prompt stringlengths 20 5.8k | chosen_story stringlengths 226 10k | rejected_story stringlengths 227 9.43k | chosen_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55 2022-12-31 14:34:19 | rejected_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36 2022-12-31 12:20:41 | chosen_upvotes int64 14 23.1k | rejected_upvotes int64 10 4.26k |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
[WP] Thousands of years in the future, a lazy anthropology student put off his "Mating Rituals of Ancient Civilizations" project until the last minute | Doug stepped into the professor's office and the desk spawned a new set of bench shaped branches. The professor, Dr. Bryce, stood and gestured for his student to take a seat.
"How do, Doc?" Doug said. "What's the base for this conclave?"
Dr. Bryce bit his lip, then spoke, using his preferred dialect of formal English. "Doug, I need to talk to you about your mid term."
"Aw, 'firmative. Did the solid trudat zing you or whatwhat?"
Bryce closed his eyes and translated. "I wanted to ask you how you came to your observations."
"Oh, no ish, doc. I was sweating about it for seven after seven. Then, bout three e-stands before, I was doing some deepsearch and found these byoncient 2D's. Laid them out and, check it, some serious anthropo wisdom."
"Where, exactly, did you find these videos?"
"Some oldsite dedicated to red tubes."
"And your conclusion was that there was an entire tribe of people who needed present food and sexual advances siumultaneously."
"Yah. And it had to round food. Pizza was the big one. Had to have it right their on their dingus or no slip n' slide."
"I see," the professor said, his insides shaking. "Doug, I want to let you know that the department has decided to give you a grant."
"Don't sell me vape here, Doc. You for serio?"
"I am. It was the only project that my colleagues could stay away for the whole presentation."
Doug said many things after that, but the Professor stopped trying to understand them. | Axstone wakes with a krokodil and red bull hang over that could power a tesla hover board. Upon looking at his calendar he sees Friday Saturday and Sunday all with big a X dismissing the day. Underneath the stickers for the 1100 annual Greek games. For a split second his headache subsides and realizes he will forever be a legend on campus for his victory over the weekend. The split second subsides and the mind splitting pain doubles as he realizes he has 45 minutes to finish his paper.
Pulling his iHallogram from under his bed he opens the paper
- Don't get drunk write me-
One line of a 5 page paper. He knows he should have followed his own advice. In a panic he does what he does best. Heads to the Google.
Stumbling into the google the goobrarian gives him a loud shush. He realizes she is his only chance.
"I need sex" he says quickly. She returns a blank stare. It wasn't the first or last time a freshman would ask.
"No! No.. I need help with a paper of turn of the century human matting"
She smiles puts her head down and begins typing. A minute later she has uploaded an archaic websites that has recently been translated to his iHallogram.
Www.oldweb.gov.reddit.com/r/nosecum
Falbert Axstone Peinstein goes on to get an A on the paper. Leading to a wildly successful career as a primitive matting specialist. | 2014-09-12T10:37:07 | 2014-09-12T10:05:16 | 85 | 18 |
[WP] You're an immortal that has lived for centuries. One day you meet another person in a bar who says, "Hey, remember me? Britain, 1800's?" | It had been a long day; I was enjoying my beer.
“Phil?” I heard a voice pronounce from behind me, “Hey, remember me? Britain, 1800’s?”
I turned around to see who it could be. Who could possibly remember me from so long ago? My stomach sank.
“Oh, shit.” I mumbled under my breath as a tall, lanky man wearing wide rimmed glasses, pushed through the crowded pub.
“Phil Connors, is it really you?” The whiny voice continued.
“Ned Ryerson?” I coldly replied, as the man continued pushing his way through the bar to stand inches from my nose.
“Well hooley dooley, it is you!” Ned exclaimed. His smile gleamed from ear to ear.
But I was too tired for this.
I took one last gulp of the warming lager, put down my glass and clenched my fist. I punched Ned square in the jaw, knocking him backwards into the group of men standing behind us.
“I’m not in the mood for your shit, Ned.” I remarked, as I wandered toward the exit. “Maybe in another hundred years.”
| I was standing in the busy bar kitchen holding a bloody rag to my hand. It was taking a long time to stop bleeding, a very long time.
I had moved from bar job to bar job for years, if anyone was to ask I would have told them my age was probably around 4400. Nobody ever asked. People sort of sensed there was something different about me, and nobody ever asked.
I stood in that kitchen for an hour, nobody told me to go back to work. I should have been worried about the bleeding, but I think I wanted it to bleed, and then I served that neat neat whisky.
She said to me cooly "Hey, remember me? Britain, 1800's?".
Quick as a flash I stabbed her through the eye.
Level up. Nice! | 2018-11-23T12:51:29 | 2018-11-23T11:23:01 | 725 | 39 |
[WP] The crew-member examines the now-empty, malfunctioning stasis-pod. The specimen is of a species that had spread to and became apex predator of every region on its homeworld. The captain must be warned, even though it's likely everyone on board is as good as dead already. The human has escaped. | "Damn!" Ixil looked at the remains of the stasis tube, still covered with a chilly mist. He turned to a nearby ensign. "Call the captain, sound general quarters, we need to get ready to fight!"
"What? What's going..."
*"Now!"*
Alarms began to sound as the ship roused itself to battle stations. Moments later, the captain was on deck with them.
"Alright, what's got your tail in a knot? Why are you waking up the whole ship over an escaped specimen?"
"Captain, this is no ordinary specimen. It's an intelligent species from a high-threat planet, and we were evaluating it as a potential battle thrall. It's aerobic chemistry is an order of magnitude more efficient than ours, with a corresponding increase in strength and speed. It also comes from a fifth-stage civilization, which means that it won't be surprised by advanced technology and it understands the concept of space travel, so we can't..."
"In plain Trade-tongue?"
Ixil shrugged. "Basically, imagine something as smart as you are, but twice as strong and fast. It just punched its way out of a stasis tube, it knows that it's on a spaceship, and it'll do whatever it takes to get home again."
"Alright, I get your drift. You want me to treat it like a hostile boarder, not an overgrown ape."
"Pretty much. If we get an armed response team ready and clear the ship top to bottom, we can probably take it down. It can't punch through armor and it dies to a laser like anything else. But if it catches you off guard, or you're not *wearing* armor, it'll pull your head clean off your shoulders before you can move."
The Captain gestured at his chest, with its conspicuous lack of body armor. "You do realize that this is an *Explorer-class* ship, right? We have *one* response team on the entire ship and they double as our Enviro research team. The last time they fired their lasers was back at the Academy."
"I know that. And I told Warlord Tress that we weren't equipped for this mission, and he said to do it anyway."
"Of course he did. If something goes wrong, he'll just blame the Xenology Department."
The captain lashed his tail and strode to a nearby console. "Well, too late to complain. All hands. Secure hatches, shelter in place, and call out any intruders. Response Team 1, begin search pattern on the Cargo Deck. Target is a two-meter bipedal mammal with pale skin. Engineering, stand by to vent internal atmosphere if necessary."
He turned back to Ixil. "If it comes down to it, we can just seal off his compartment and vent the air. This monster of yours still needs to breathe, right?"
"Yes. And its planet has more oxygen in its atmosphere than ours, so he's probably feeling pretty sluggish already. Unless it..."
A light blinked on the console. *Captain, this is Raptor 1. One of the emergency lockers has been opened. Looks like the intruder ripped apart one of the suits.*
"...unless it figures out how to use the emergency life support packs." Ixil sighed. "We are *so* dead." | "Oh. No. Oh no. Oh, captain!"
His breath quickened. His hearts pulsed erratically. His skin turned bluer than ever. Images flashed through his mind. The crew must be dead. The captain must be fighting. The ship must be wrecked. He almost cried.
Of course, Delta-4 couldn't help but become overwhelmed with panic. It was, after all, his first day on the job. He had fought through the arduous training like a bear fighting for its life, and to his own surprise, he graduated top of his division. But no one was prepared for humans. No member of the migan race was prepared.
It was much like any other Sentience Study mission. They'd actually received signals from the humans, and immediately departed for what they called Earth. Delta-4 was just another sentry, prepared with a shock-gun in case they went hostile. But what they saw was so much worse.
They imprisoned living beings and slaughtered them for sustenance. They discarded so much of what they created that it was destroying species. They alone were responsible for poisoning the air, and according to legend, creating weapons of unreasonable destruction. Had they no morals? Had they no sense?
It was obvious that they were of utmost interest and danger to their planet and others. In their usual fashion, they stealthily took a human from a remote settlement, though they were treated more cautiously. While in stasis, their anatomy could be studied, their memories examined, and their bodies maintained.
If it wasn't for the storm, their plan would have been as foolproof as ever. But now, the human is gone. And Delta-4 has to deal with it.
Many deep breaths later, and his skin turned to a neutral grey. He switched on his weapon, and crept forward, slowly, cautiously. His footsteps echoed through the ship, a melancholy chorus to this terrible occurrence. Nothing seemed amiss, but the human was out, there's no doubt of that. He kept moving, step by step, scanning the metal walls with terrified precision.
Suddenly: footsteps. Several things crossed his mind at once again, he's not ready, he forgot to alert the captain, he never said goodbye. A voice echoed around him.
"Where am I? Why me? What did I do to deserve this? I just want to be with my family. I hope these creatures are friendly"
A dirty tanned hand came into view. D-4 raised his weapon and flinched. The human stumbled forth. It spoke, "Wait, please, I-". He fired.
It was unconscious. Drained of adrenaline and filled with relief, D-4 collapsed with it. He laughed uncontrollably, in shock and awe. Then, he was calm. Dragging it back to its pod, he thought to himself: what was it saying? In fact, why didn't it attack me at all? It looked... scared. It couldn't be... No. It couldn't. With a quick shake of his head, D-4 closed the pod, and walked away. The crew was safe. | 2018-07-31T16:36:31 | 2018-07-31T14:17:28 | 30 | 12 |
[WP] You can hear the sound of the Sun from Earth, it is loud but the planet has adapted. Suddenly the light goes out. 8 minutes after it died the last bit of light reaches Earth. It'll take 13 years before the roar of the Sun the moment it died reaches us.
Inspired by a comment on r/AskReddit
*edit: removed link to comment | You never quite know what you have until it’s gone. We never quite found out why the sun went dark, society having collapsed long before we could, but some of us were lucky. Some of us were able to be saved, to have the slightest hope of survival as our world slowly turned to ice. We thought we missed the light the most, missed walking on the surface, missed feeling radiance on our skin, but we didn’t know how much more we had to lose.
It had been thirteen years after we entered the shelter. Thirteen years since we burrowed into the earth, as the Earth’s mantle provides the only source of heat and energy in this frozen world. It was an otherwise ordinary day, and we were all going about our tasks to keep this small bastion of humanity alive when we heard it. Well, heard isn’t quite the right word. It was more something we felt inside our bones, an intense vibration, filling us with agony and pain. It lasted for minutes, and then it was gone. But with it went something else, and now that it’s gone all we have left the The Quiet. Now all we are left with is our own thoughts, and the sense of despair that comes with the last outcry of our dying star. Our Sun is truly gone, and our hope with it. Already it’s started, people driven mad by The Quiet, who would rather kill themselves than go on. I am ashamed to admit that I was almost one of them. But I will hold on. For my Wife and Child, I will hang on. Even if it’s so quiet. Even if it is so dark.
-I hope this is what you were looking for. If anyone enjoyed this admittedly short Prompt piece feel free to leave a response below. | Day: 1 it’s gone, the light. It got bright, then nothing, scientists say it ran out of fuel, and were lucky it didn’t blow up. Riots are everywhere. I’m keeping a record, I’m currently in Nashville TN, the music city is filled with the cacophony of fights and brawls. I’m fleeing I’ll write when I get ready to leave.
Day:4 I’ve gathered supplies, the moon is empty and the city’s lights are the brightest things for miles, I’ve waited so I don’t have to deal with traffic. It’s also gotten colder it’s 28 degrees, Fahrenheit, it’s never gotten this cold before, not here atleast I’m going to look for a place to getaway, there is no law anymore.
Day:276 I had to rip out pages of this diary to keep warm, this old bunker will hopefully save us for atleast another few years. Our wood is getting low though. Radio broadcasts from the New Global Adaptation Effort (NGAE) stooped, the last warning was one that in a few years, a sound would stop and we all would get crippling tinnitus due to lack of sound. I’ve decided not to write until then.
Day:4748 It hurts and it’s only getting worse, I’m the only one left that I know, it hurts! There is no sound, we haven’t even the slightest thing to help, NOT EVEN MY FOOTSTEPS! It HURTS, I’m ending it, forever, goodbye. | 2019-08-05T17:54:51 | 2019-08-05T17:50:31 | 407 | 61 |
[WP] A monster approached a monster hunter. The hunter drew his weapon. The monster prostrated. "I heard you were the best at tracking my kind down. I'm desperate to find someone dear to me." | The beast snarled - or was that a whimper? She rested her head against the gun barrel. Several grams of silver waited, straining for release. He could almost feel the bullet whispering to him, begging to be fired into the monster’s head. To end its life.
His trigger finger itched.
“Please,” she asked again. “There are so few of us left. I know you’re the best - I know you can find my father.”
“Why should I help you,” he sneered? “Your kind have been hunting mine for thousands of years. Now we’re the hunters - and you don’t even have the dignity to hold your head high as you die?”
“I’m no hunter,” she murmured. “I prey on animals. Livestock. And I leave them alive when I can.”
“Impossible. Nobody can resist the Hunger.”
“I can.”
“There’s no way that I can know you’re telling the truth.”
She opened her mouth, and he nearly pulled the trigger before he saw that she was baring her fangs. They were short and blunted. “My fangs haven’t grown in yet,” she murmured. “Not enough - or any - human kills.”
Cooper grunted. She could’ve filed them down, but it wasn’t impossible that the monster was telling the truth. This was all getting too complicated - and Cooper hated complications. “Why’d you approach me?”
“Like I said, I need you to find my father.”
“*Why* do you need to find your father?”
“Besides the fact that he’s dear to me? That he’s the only family I have left?” She looked up and made eye contact. Behind his mirrored shades, Cooper shuddered at her inhuman gaze. “He can help you.”
“Does it look like I need any help?”
“You’re just one man. My father - he was like me. A pacifist. He was working on a way to make human blood toxic to Greys.”
The implications were immediately clear. “I could kill Greys with my blood? You could do that?”
“If they tried to eat it, yes. And not me - my father. Which is a good reason for you to help me.”
He thought about it for a few moments. “If this is some kind of trick…”
“It’s not,” she said, and for some reason, he believed her.
A few long moments passed before he raised the gun. “Get up.”
“My name’s Veil,” she said without being prompted.
“Good to know. Now get up. Here are the rules - you feed only when I tell on, and only on what I tell you. You stay in front of me - if you try to run off, you take a silver bullet to the head. And -” He pulled a blinking ankle bracelet from his bag. “You wear this.”
“You’re treating me like a convict? Like a human convict?”
“You’re from a race of human-eating monsters. It’s for my safety. You in or not?”
Veil sighed and rolled up a pant leg. Cooper fastened the blinking metal cuff around one of her slim ankles. Her skin was warm to the touch - far warmer than any human’s could have been.
“You take that off, or try to run - it’ll stop you. Don’t do it.”
“One more thing,” Veil said, and then the window exploded.
“The others don’t like my father’s research.”
“Great,” Cooper stated. “Thanks for letting me know ahead of time.”
“There’s a back exit. Let’s go.”
---
/r/OneMillionWords for more | "I'm sorry, what now?"
He stood before me. Roughly twice my height, third arm arching over his head, which contained massive jagged, misaligned teeth. A fairly common monster, usually found in forests. Sometimes they come out and wreck villages, and need to be dealt with. This one had been oddly easy to find.
"I beg of you, please, help me. My child, he is gone. I cannot find him anywhere," he said. I tightened my grip on the sword in my hands, uneasy at this strange turn of events. I'd been tasked with hunting down a creature that had been bothering the local village, walking around and damaging property. That same monster now stood before me, asking for help.
"Why do you ask me of all people? You are aware I am tasked with killing you, yes?" I asked him. He fidgeted a bit, his third arm twisting his head to crack his neck.
He responded, voice low and raspy, "I know what your job is. That is exactly the reason I ask you for help. Extraordinary, your tracking skills are. Please, use your skills to find my child."
I lowered my sword slightly, loosening my grip on it. My hands grew tired of holding the sword up for so long. Any other day, and this abomination would be headless on the ground before it could say a thing to me. It was my job to kill bothersome monsters, after all. And I was good at it.
"Now, let me ask you this, why should I not kill you right now? This is my livelihood. I cannot eat the air, and refuse to become a bandit to survive. What reason do I have to help you rather than end you right now?" I asked him. This gave him pause, his breathing stopping for just a moment. He blinked multiple times in quick succession, clearly lost in thought. The longer I stood there before him, the more I felt the urge to help him. He seemed almost human.
"True, you are right. You have no reason to help me out here. But, I'll ask you anyway, because I need help. You are the only one who can give it to me. Please, just help me. I'll disappear after, I'll go away, just help me. My child... My child... He is gone.. "
His pleading struck deep into my heart, and stirred up an aching in my chest, an odd feeling as though my chest were imploding and bursting at the same time. I looked into his hideous face, looking directly at his eyes. How revolting. Yet, somehow, how human? Any expression a human face could make could also be found in his. Something stirred deep inside me. I placed my sword back into its scabbard on my back and pulled my hood off my head. His face turned from one of desperation to one of relief as I stuck out my hand. He reached out and took it, almost crushing my hand with his strength.
"The deal is struck then. I'll help you. Just, don't bother these folks anymore," I told him.
"Oh, those damaged buildings over there? Dude, do you know how hard it is to fit this body into your tiny doors?" | 2019-06-03T03:23:48 | 2019-06-03T00:51:42 | 26 | 13 |
[WP] Your finger has twitched constantly for as long as you can remember. One day, on the bus, an older gentleman starts yelling at you. "You think you're funny tapping out morse in front of a war vet, eh?!" | "Wh-what?" I asked, bewildered by the old geezer's outburst.
"I *said*, you think you're ***funny*** tapping out ***goddamn MORSE*** in front of a ***WAR VET?!***" His face was going red from the rage. His arms were shaking, making the sleeves on his coat look like an earthquake in the desert.
"I-I'm so sorry! I didn't know!" I squeaked, shrinking at the sight of every eye on the bus looking my way. God, why does this shit happen to me? I just wanted to go to McDonald's!
"Bullshit ya didn't know. It takes time to learn Morse! We radio boys had it drilled into us back in the war!" He got up and started to walk towards me, with fire in his eyes. "So how about you tell me ***why you're tappin' Morse in front of a war vet!"***
"Pl-please! Please! Let me explain!" My lips felt like they were gonna freeze up, but I got the words out somehow.
"Ya got sixty, kid. Be quick about it."
"This finger's been twitching ever since I was born," I explained, raising my hand for proof, "not even the doctors can figure it out. They even had to give me a note saying I can't do certain jobs. See?" I pulled out the note. "I don't know why it's tapping Morse, man. I didn't even know."
"Hmph. Load of bullshit," he said, before returning to his seat.
We rode for a bit. People got on, people got off, the bus was still cramped as hell, and my finger twitched on. I was looking out the window when I saw the old man looking at my finger again. But this time he wasn't mad - he was... sort of shocked.
"Uhh... sir? Is my finger bothering you again?" I asked, tentatively.
He didn't answer. Rather, he got up. Slowly, with his legs shaking about as bad as his arms were earlier. He walked over to me, with a look of utter disbelief plastered all over his face. He slowly crouched down to where my hand was, resting on my jeans. And then he started to tap ***on my hand.*** In that same strange, erratic, patterned twitch that my finger did.
My finger stopped twitching. Almost as though it were *listening.*
He stopped. My finger started. It stopped. He started. I just sat there. *Completely* confused.
After a while of this, the old man got up, and, looking at me with that look on his face, asked me, "Kid, do you know anyone by the name of Johnny Hiddleston?"
"No," I replied. "Why?"
"He was an old childhood friend. We both got drafted into the war. He was infantry. Before we went off, we would joke about how, if we ever needed each other, we'd both learn Morse, and he'd jack a radio and talk to me that way. He died at Normandy."
"I'm sorry."
"Sure you are. Anyway, that's not the strange part. The strange part is this. I've always had this feeling - this *waiting* feeling - like someday, I'd hear the ol' beeping sound, and it'd be him talking to me. And we'd have a nice chat, and we'd joke around, like we did when we were kids. Well, now I guess I know why."
"Why's that?" I asked, feeling a little unsure of where this was going.
"Because he's found his radio, kid. And it's you."
***
I haven't written for a long while, so I'm pretty sure I'm a bit rusty. How'd I do? | Faulty nerve. That's what doctors said when I was a kid. They could do surgery, but there's a lot of nerves and tendons and such in the hand, and it turns out this think kept firing off even under anesthesia, so my finger kept twitching and moving my hand a little and the surgeons weren't able to do it without potentially causing some really bad damage that would leave me with limited use of my hand.
It's never really been a problem though. My middle finger on my left hand twitches a lot. Most people don't even mention it, and it basically looks like I'm drumming out a weird beat or something. Not a big deal.
Until yesterday.
Old guy on the bus, wearing a hat with a ship on it, the kind that old Navy vets wear. And he's staring at my finger. I ignore him, sometimes people stare. I'm used to it, it's not a big deal.
He looks pissed.
"HEY KID."
Fucking damnit. Now this is happening. I ignore him, to see if I can make it go back to that nice place where it's not happening.
"HEY YOU, TAKE OFF YOUR DAMNED HEADPHONES."
And he slaps my headphones off my head.
"Yo, what the FUCK dude?"
I am, imaginably, pissed.
"You think you're funny tapping out morse in front of a war vet, eh?"
"The fuck are you talking about, asshole?"
We're both standing now. In each other's faces. Honestly I'm not sure where it came from in me, kind of a fight or flight thing or something. I think Adrenaline had taken the wheel at that point. It's a thing now, and it's happening. Fuckidy do dah, right?
"Your fucking finger you little shit, tapping like that. It's morse, and you're a fucking jackass for saying what you did."
"You've got some nerve, asshole. Fun fact: me too."
"Fuck you for bringing up the damned Iowa."
"I don't think you heard me; I didn't tap out shit. I have a *bad nerve* in my hand, causes spasms in my finger. You're all off about this morse code horseshit, man."
"You fucking little liar, it was clear as day. You tapped out 'Iowa sunk by USA' five times in a row. I know morse pretty fucking well, I was the Iowa's radioman for two years before she went down."
It was at this point I realized I'm dealing with somebody with some pretty severe mental issues, and made the smart choice before I ended up kicking an elderly veteran's ass.
"You know what I think this is my stop."
I quickly slipped out the back door of the bus. It wasn't actually my stop, but a mile of walking won't hurt anyone, and I had time.
Later, I googled the USS Iowa. Launched in 1942, decommissioned in 1949, recommissioned in 1951, decommissioned again in 1958, recommissioned again in 1984, and then finally decommissioned in 1990, and serving as a museum piece since 2006, although capable of being reactivated.
The weird thing is, though, the guy's granddaughter was with him, and I could fucking swear her t-shirt said "Berenstein Bears." | 2016-07-17T13:01:49 | 2016-07-17T12:57:04 | 74 | 11 |
[WP] You are an elite member of the royal guard. You have recently been fired from your position because of the new king. Little does he know, there was a reason why the previous king kept you in his service for so long.
Edit: Holy crap this blew up! Thank you all! | A few years ago, I would have been the one leading the chorus. "Gods save the king", I'd cry, and legions would answer back. I'd served, in some form or another, for three kings in succession, each transition of power being simple, clean, and effective. Gods save this king, that king, and the next one. And they did. Every time I asked, the gods answered. A gentle nudge on a runaway chariot here, an arrow that wouldn't leap from the bow there.
And I made my sacrifices in thanks. They weren't pretty sacrifices, they were bloody, messy affairs, but it was a price the city was prepared to pay for protection. Who's complaining when the local butcher is strung up in penance for his crimes? They were told it was horsemeat in the mince, which was true. I never told anyone where the prime rib had come from. Or the baker, whose 'specially iced eclairs, just for you' fed a nation's drug habit? These were the lowest of the low, and I was justice, swooping in for kings and gods alike, taking life when it was demanded of me.
But now there is a new king, and one of his first acts was to replace his guard with his cronies. So I sit in a tavern as the laws are disregarded, as his paid up thugs brutalise the streets, and anger ferments in the city. It's been a hot summer, tempers are beginning to flare up. Just last week, there was a vicious fight not twenty yards from the palace walls. Hundreds joined the melee, and it was only when a young man, blond wavy hair and sharp blue eyes, a voice like thunder in a meadow, cried out for peace that it all petered out. He reminded those present, drunk and sober alike, of the real threat. I saw it all from my window and thought he was a man to follow. So here I sit, waiting for him to speak. A crowd is growing, weapons openly sheathed, rival factions all with a single, focused determination. No drink is being poured, no laughter, no anger, no noise. I've been in these rooms before. The mob is set to be unleashed on the quiet streets, like a bull coralled into one lone direction. We're coming for the palace. Around me are my men, and we all know that palace better than we know ourselves. The exits have all been bricked shut from the outside, all save one. And that's where we're going in.
And we've all made our sacrifices. The thugs hanging from the gallows by each other's guts, pushed from a roof in the dead of night, or drowned and floating in the palace water courses. We've asked, and we've got our answer.
No gods will save the king now. | My thoughts raced, matching the speed of my footsteps as they pounded down the corridor. Was it my perspective that made the hall so dark and dingy? Was it the sense of impending doom, or had the usurper beheaded the housekeepers in his takeover?
Thirty years, I have served this kingdom. I suppose now it's "had," past tense, for the old ways have burned to the ground under the "True King's" command. The young upstart claiming some magical prophecy, some sort of destiny or right. My lungs burned from exertion, and my face with anger. The old king was now no more than disgraced refuse thrown out with the pigs. He had not been perfect; no one is perfect. But he had been born into the position, grown into it, learned from and was moulded by it. What could a nobody from the forests know of leadership? Of government? Of secrets and their consequences?
I gasped for breath, stumbling into my chambers. There was no more need for order or tidyness, and I let bottles and canisters crash to the floor, tossing them out of my way as I searched. I had precious little time to gather anything but the barest of necessities, with the clinking of armored footsteps coming down the hall outside my door. I sent up a silent thank you to whoever had been in charge of my assignment to these rooms, and the passageway to the kitchens that hid behind a tapestry on the far wall. I didn't bother to shut the door behind me as I slipped into it- the chamber door was opening and I could not waste the time needed to cover my tracks. Time, time, time...if only we'd all had more of it.
Thirty years I had served this kingdom. Thirty years I have labored, researched, documented, traveled far and wide to further my work. Thirty years I had kept the monster under these floors contained. Thirty years the beast and I had been engaged in a struggle for power, for control, and thirty years I have won- barely. The new king would see me shot on sight. Perhaps he would drag me in front of the masses as a symbol, for a slower and more painfully theatrical death. He knows not the powers that he toys with. He is but a child, drunk on his newfound influence.
I am through the passage now, racing through the kitchens. Ahead of me, soldiers stand between me and the light of morning, just peeking through the curtains. They raise their weapons, and below us, the flagstones begin to rumble. | 2021-02-28T03:50:25 | 2021-02-28T03:15:28 | 539 | 173 |
[WP] When turning 21, everyone develops a mutation, either physical (Claws, horns, wings) or mental (telekinesis, extreme intelligence, etc). You've just turned 21, and you're terrified of what you've gained (though others will be impressed).
Edit: Holy shit this blew up. I'm reading these and they're great! Thanks everyone! | So this is my first one of these. Here goes nothing:
It still amazes me how quickly my life changed. Most people, they get their power and just move on with their life. Sure, there is more than a fair amount of career shifting, when someone gets something specialized, but it’s still pretty much business as usual. Not me. Normalcy for me lasted about an hour after my power manifested.
I was out at the bar with a few of my friends, counting down the minutes to my time of birth. The clock stuck and everyone held their breath. Nothing seemed to happen at first. My friends stared at me while I tested out the basics: telekinesis, conjuring elements, super strength. I certainly didn’t feel any different. That is, until Carl put his hand on my shoulder for reassurance. I felt a huge rush, and popped across the room. Teleportation! Not bad at all. Odd thing was, that was Carl’s power. Carl tried to pop over next to me, and found out he couldn’t. It only took us a few seconds to realize what my real power was: Absorption. My friends were amazed and impressed. For about a minute.
I couldn’t give the powers back. I tried, honest. Tried as hard as I could. Carl, fueled by fear, rage and alcohol started getting violent. He began shaking me, screaming in my face to give it back. My other friends had to pull him off of me, and in the scuffle I snagged more powers from them and some other patrons of the bar. People started backing away, wide eyed and terrified. The worst was the look from my fiancé, Rebecca. With a sickly feeling in my stomach I realized that, among the collection of abilities, I suddenly knew how to shape shift. I wanted to say something to her, anything, but I was a coward. I used my new gift from Carl, and popped home.
Word spread fast. I lost my friends, my job, everything almost overnight. After a few disastrous attempts, I stopped going outside. Some part of me felt bad for those that I touched. They were freaks, the Unpowered, looked at as second class citizens. Not me, I wasn’t even seen as human. I was a disease, a plague. The only people who would still talk to me were my parents, but only over the phone. Even my mother, one of the Unpowered herself, was afraid to come see me in person.
They come for me now. Criminals and thugs come trying to make a name for themselves. Bounty hunters come trying to collect the price some rich Unpowered put on my head. The government comes trying to remove what they see as the biggest threat to national security in history. They never learn. It doesn’t matter what power they have. I have hundreds. | I remember details before (yellow light,
green), details after('catch him, Lou!') but the searing pain ripping those hours out of mind are like constant needles pushing at my eyeballs from behind. I'd heard the stories, seen the anxious hushed terror my mothers eyes as it approched, had known its happening was slithering inevitably towards me.
Freaks in this world are common seen a badge of pride. Shit, woh doesnt like watching brutal sports played by men who feel no pain or can turn appandages to rock hard batons? I'd seen ancient footage of the Older Ones playing football cringing at the physicalty dished out with no mutation. It felt inhumane, a terror my poor father endured as his genes betrayed him. When the time came for him to mature for his inner self to show nothing happened. He was no more a Reborn then a rock.
He was not alone, his quirk was seen throught the last thousand years in various clans appearing often in two or three genarations before disappearing for a hundred or more years. His father before him and his father shared the same gift, magnificent fifteen foot wide wings a rare mutation and a great source of prestige. When my father did not mature physically nor show mental powers,such as my mothers ability to communicate in the Thirty Great Tounges, the tick tock of expectant eyes turned to me a child of two at the time.
But still I sat there that night. The hushed elders, old fools to a man, clucking and muttering under the breathes like a flock of haggard geese. The weight of failure pushed my chest down seemingly clamping me to the hard impersonale grey chair a clinical nod to comfort in the sterile white empty room.
A silent clock ran down in my visual display,seconds and minutes melting before me. This I recall, what came next was terror. As all zeroes approached a blinding light (green,orange) a ripping at my skull. A thousand images flood my vision. Not one could I describe now. My back arches hours pass as light and image assault me. I hear the elders murmmer far away until at once I am flung back. Turning to the nearest elder a screm breaks free from my parched mouth. I do not see a man, I see a soul. Innately I know I saw the truth of the man laid bare, his ambition and greed. Hunger. His desires. I feel vomit in my gullett as I struggle to my feet. I feel the gasp before I hear it.
'The sign! The one!' a dozen faceless voices exhale in awe.
On my feet now I stumble the leerng greeed and power overwhelming. Somehow I run.
'Catch him, Lou!' | 2015-03-04T07:30:28 | 2015-03-04T04:05:10 | 77 | 27 |
[WP] A person's superpowers emerge during- and relate to- a highly stressful moment in their life. Your brother nearly drowned, and as a result could shape water to his will. A classmate fell from a high balcony, and ended up learning to fly. You? You just got your powers last night. | I don't want to go to school...
Perhaps I can get away with not telling anyone? No, they'll be asking as the months go by; "You know what it is yet?"
I don't know how I'm going to answer. Why couldn't I be more careful? This is just embarrassing. My best mate can read minds anyway... I'm done for.
I'm going to be the laughing stock of the town, and all I had to do was be normal. Just chew my food properly. Maybe if I create another high stress situation it'll change? No, you know it doesn't work like that, stop. Think. Okay, the power of regurgitation? Jesus Christ, you're an idiot.
There's no way this can be cool. This is it, forever. This is my calling, my special ability, I can voluntarily bring up any food I've eaten, whole.
Choking is terrifying, the panic just overwhelmed me alright? | I began to fall from the building, I didn't remember climbing it though.
That didn't matter. As I felt myself begin to topple and become truly weightless in the plunge a jolt ran though my body, and it jolted me awake.
The fall had been a dream, but the adrenaline was real.
As I sat up in bed breathing rapidly my phone rang which startled me, and on answering it was my buddy Steve.
'Holy shit man are you ok? We all saw you go over the edge and now we can't see you at all! How did you survive that and where the hell are you?!'
The assent to the roof began to clear in my mind. The opposite of what usually happens as dreams fade, this became more vivid. | 2021-04-01T02:44:08 | 2021-03-31T23:16:32 | 67 | 23 |
[WP] Your favourite fairy tale, but narrated by the movie trailer guy as an action movie. Start with 'In a world ...' instead of 'Once upon a time ...'.
examples of action movie trailers that start with 'In a world ...' : http://www.timeout.com/chicago/things-to-do/the-10-best-in-a-world-movie-trailers | In a world where no one is safe.
“Yes, 911, what is your emergency?”
One woman tries to survive.
“Oh god, they’re eating it. They’re monsters.”
She was a nice old woman in the woods.
“Ma’am, please. They’re eating what exactly?”
They were a boy and girl who would stop at nothing to tear her world apart.
“My house!”
THIS SUMMER
*A girl’s head smashes through the gingerbread wall. A boy’s head smashes through another wall and screeches. They both gnash their teeth.*
**HOLD**
Epic music *The woman runs down a hallway as the lights go out*
**ON**
Drums swell *Gumdrop shingles fall from the roof*
**TO**
Chorus yells latin nonsense *A support candy cane breaks in half and a wall collapses*
**YOUR**
Strings reach a climax *The two of them have her cornered*
**BREADCRUMBS**
Music cuts out *Closeup on woman taking a pie out of the oven. As she steps aside, you can see glowing eyes in the background*
Title Card – **House of Candy**
Roll credits. Follow at ~~#CandyGranny~~ (Editors note: DO NOT USE THAT HASHTAG)
| In a world, where an evil sorceress takes the law into her own hands...
*Cut to father, begging for mercy and holding handfuls of plants*
One girl must bear the burden of her father's mistakes.
*Show beautiful girl looking out window through prison bars*.
But the Witch will soon realize that she's not the only one willing to mete out justice.
*Cut to shot of handsome young prince, carrying a shining longsword.*
A forbidden romance...
*Show handsome prince at the base of the tower talking up to imprisoned princess*
Leads to a quest for vengeance.
*Show the Prince holding his sword to the Witch's throat.*
This summer... hold on to your hair!
*Cut to prince speaking to witch: "If she doesn't let down her hair, I will look for you, I will find you, and I will kill you."*
**Taken 4: Rapunzel**
| 2015-04-16T08:46:35 | 2015-04-16T08:25:18 | 61 | 41 |
[WP] An enterprising mad scientist opens a shop to sell supplies to other mad scientists. However, the store becomes very popular with the local college students for cheap hardware repair, access to forbidden knowledge, and adorable mutant pets. | "Alright, Isa." I whisper, letting the long, colorful lizard climb down its habitat of rocks and leaves and onto my arm. "Come on, they like you." Then I turn. "Mini Lovecraft's, how can I help you?"
"Does she like celery?" a student asks quietly. "Here, I brought some for her."
"She likes it." I let Isa eat the celery and give her a light rub across the her multicolored scales. "Good girl! Oh, and by the way: any hardware to fix?"
"Actually, my laptop's not working..."
"Not working?" Isa climbs back into a small habitat and I open a door. "Give me a few minutes. Did you bring the piece of hardware?"
The student nods.
"All right then, Kara. It's not too big of a problem. I'll go into the source code, tweak a few things, and then it should be as good as new. You're okay with that?"
"Maybe a few chapters from the Book of Undead?" she looks down. "My pet chinchilla died, and I need some help reanimating it."
"Cool!" I open an incredibly thick tome and rip a stack of papers out. "Don't worry, I'll sew it back together after you return it. Looks like you'll have a lot to do this week!"
"Thanks," Kara says quietly. Her hair flickers for a moment. I see her in the distance walking away, holding the stack I gave her. | *Lets see… this goes here, that goes there. Should I leave the Quantum-mogrifier out on display?…..Eh, what’s the worst that could happen?*
A bell chimes, signaling his first customer.
“Ah, I do apologize but I’m not quite open yet, Esteemed Maddener.” The Mad Shopkeeper didn’t turn around to face his colleague, but he was nonetheless excited about their enthusiasm. The entire galaxy was soon to know his name- assuming other species existed.
Which, they had to. Otherwise, where else were the intelligible commercials in his dream coming from?
*Wait… I didn’t hear them leave.* he thought.
“I said we are *not* open yet, dear coll…” he turned around and saw nobody standing there.
“Hmm…” he walked around the counter and turned the lock to the door. “Probably the wind-“
“That one.” Said a small voice to his left. The mad shopkeeper jumped out of his wits and stumbled into the Death Shucker. There stood a young child in a Boaris College uniform, pointing at his Improbability Gun. His *favorite* gun.
“…this isn’t for college students *or* children. Now leave, before I have you death shucked.” He told him. | 2022-04-24T19:06:20 | 2022-04-24T17:44:10 | 94 | 35 |
[WP] Much like how a desperate human might summon a demon to make a contract for power or immortality you find yourself summoned in hell by a demon trying to negotiate a contract for what seems to you like mundane advice and aid | It wasn't often that Lucifer himself deigned to get involved in the wheelings and dealings of lesser demons. Such matters were trivial, well beneath his concern. But of late, he'd begun to notice the emergence of a peculiar pattern: mortals were beginning to outsmart demons. It wasn't unheard of, of course- every century or so, you'd come across that one human in a million clever enough to outfox the legions of Hell and escape a bargain with their soul intact. But now it was starting to happen more frequently... At least once a month. Such a curiosity was worth investigating.
The next time a mortal struck a bargain that the demon could not manage, Lucifer ordered the demon brought before him to explain the circumstances of this failure.
"Help me to understand what the difficulty is here." Lucifer said, trying for patience in his voice, but instead coming off annoyed. "The mortal wants the standard mortal things.... Riches, power, influence, the whole lot. Nothing beyond our power to give. In exchange, the mortal offers their soul. This is a simple transaction, one we've been doing for centuries without issue. Explain to me where it went wrong."
"Mercy, my lord, mercy..." The little demon cringed before his lord, fearing the punishment that was sure to come. "The mortal challenged me to a game of skill to save his soul... This was his right, my lord, as established in Hell bylaw seventeen-twenty, section four, paragraph-"
"I am aware of Hell's bylaws. I wrote them myself, didn't I?" Lucifer interrupted with a groan of impatience. "So the mortal invoked his right to challenge... This is no obstacle to the likes of us. There is no mortal living who can match our skill at games. Tell me, what was the game they chose? Chess?"
"No, my lord..."
"20 questions?"
"No, lord..."
"Ah, poker then... Texas Hold 'Em, I assume."
"No, my lord, it wasn't a card game..."
"A musical challenge, then? I'd assumed fiddling contests would be less popular since that damned song came out, but-"
"It wasn't that either, my lord."
"Well, what was it, then? Out with it, wretch! What game could a mortal possibly challenge you to that you could not best him in?"
The little demon cringed and shrunk away from Lucifer's fury, seemingly afraid of what his lord's reaction would be to what came next.
"My lord, it... It was something called... Super Smash Bros. Melee."
Lucifer stared, nonplussed. For the first time in a long time, he felt stumped.
"What is this... Super Smash Bros. Melee you speak of? Some new sport the mortals have concocted?"
"I-In a manner of speaking, lord. I-It seems to be an electronic gladiator arena of some kind, populated by heroes, gods and monsters of human myth."
Lucifer leaned back on his throne, unable to disguise his annoyance.
"Ugh. *Video games*. I might have known. Damn it all." He sighed. "We're out of our depth here. In future matters of video game challenges, we'll have to elect an intermediary."
The demon tilted his head in confusion.
"A-An intermediary, great master?"
Lucifer nodded, and snapped his fingers. In a flash of unholy light, a laptop appeared before him, belching fire and brimstone from its infernal USB ports.
"We'll do some summoning of our own. They want to challenge us to a video game? That's acceptable. But there's nothing in the bylaws that says we can't elect a player of our own to meet the challenge. And I know just where to find one." His red fingers flew over the laptop's keyboard as a crooked smile split his demonic features. "Ah, Reddit. I swear, it makes my job ten times easier." | "Name?"
"Amdusias," spoken like gravel drawn over glass. Amdusias, gender unclear - he put male on the list for simplicity's sake - smelled like rot, violence and melancholia.
Alexandria wrote his name down, Amdusias had no fingers to use a pen and the claws left aesthetically questionable marks on the mahogany desk in the otherwise luxurious office.
Alexandria's friends called her Alex. Nobody ever called her Alex.
*Alex, you should add a few things on the fine print, that lad doesn't seem too bright.*
Except Orobas, Alex's emotional support horror only she could hear, and she would much prefer if Orobas didn't.
"Wish?"
Amdusias grated his fangs together, the noise would have made the rats in the walls scamper, had the building not been a top of the notch skyscraper for successful and ruthlessly capitalistic firms. The cleaning crew cost a fortune.
A scary sound, had Alex not become an adept at reading unfathomable creatures.
This here was shyness.
"We don't judge," she said with a warm, inviting smile that would have made kids climb into her van, before the kids realized she judged the fuck out of everyone.
Of course she judged.
*Hehe,* so did Orobas.
Since she started working at triangle corp, she had lost any respect for humankind. At first, they only handled Faustian deals struck by desperate humans in favor of demons hungry for souls. A contract signed in a nice room was much more efficient for both parties involved, better than riddles and headaches at crossroads in the middle of nowhere.
She remembered a pair of her first clients, two farmers who wanted to keep farming and saw no point in being sexual gods or smart bordering on genius. Just tractors and fields.
And then, abominations asked why they couldn't also call upon Pyramide for similar services, just the other way around. Since then, Alex had lost respect for other dimensions and Old Ones and whatever terrible things dwelled beyond.
"I want to understand the last season of America's next top model."
Alex's head hit the desk with a loud noise.
*We're gonna judge the shit out of this one.*
Being the intermediary between humans and horrors sound great on a resume. A master in sales, a PhD in psychology, for that. Alex's nails left claw marks on the desk.
"Why?" She asked, a hysterical despair in her voice.
"Well, I have to tempt humans, eat them, all that. But it's not just physical, it's the mind too. And I need to understand humans for that. But I don't. I'm starting to feel irrelevant."
Alex had felt so for a long time already.
*Now, now, you're not. You're very relevant, today more so than ever,* said Orobas, who hadn't done emotional support in a while.
"Fine, fine, sign here, or drool here, whatever."
"What's this?" Asked Amdusias.
"Appointments with teachers of various grades, appointments to watch kid movies, and appointments with a child psychologist."
A PhD. A PhD to make appointments with teachers.
"Fuck my life," she added for herself.
Amdusias left, happy, or something similar.
Alex sunk her face in her hands.
*Wanna talk about it?* Asked Orobas.
"No thanks."
Her professional phone rang.
"Yes?"
"Hi," said Mark from the secretarial department, "I have a couple of farmers you signed a contract for who want to talk about the fine print."
Alex's head slammed the desk again.
Not these two morons again.
*Ha ha ha,* Orobas' laugh boomed loud and happy in her head, *I love my job.*
"At least one of us does." | 2022-12-15T07:20:50 | 2022-12-15T06:08:20 | 491 | 152 |
[WP] Vampires cannot enter a house uninvited. Turns out, they invented Welcome mats to bypass this rule decades ago. | "I hate this place" Maria thought as she stared out across the barren Transylvanian landscape. Leaning her head against the car window, misery tinged the blur of trees and rolling hills outside in grey. Nevermind that they were in fact mostly grey.
Not even her pulp novel, purchased by a penitent parent, could hold her attention. If only her mother hadn't taken this new job, hadn't taken them away to this land of perpetual twilight. The strangling of the engine ended her reverie. "We are here".
Her parents could have at least tried to find a less ironic house. Towering gothic spires, a yawning entrance into the shingled maw of an old Victorian manor. Even a lone raven hopping around the yard and croaking curses at the new tenants. "Dracula vs Wolfman" tumbled out of her lap and underfoot as she emerged from the car. After unloading she found it lying in the mud, spine broken.
When darkness fell, there came a knock on the door.
Two pale middle aged women, one holding a casserole and the other a parcel wrapped in brown paper, smiled tightly. "Welcome to the neighborhood!" the one with the casserole trilled. Her mom, who had answered the door, invited them in. "Oh, that won't be necessary" the other woman replied, handing her mother the parcel. "Please enjoy this blood pudding as well. It takes some getting used to, but it is a local delicacy and in time you will learn to love it." Maria hung back during this exchange. Something about the women seemed off. Perhaps it was the way they smiled. Without showing their teeth.
After they left, her mom unwrapped the package. It was a welcome mat. "Oh how thoughtful!" her mother exclaimed "See Maria? The people here are just as nice as in Pennsylvania". By the time her mother turned around after placing the mat in front of their door, Maria was already upstairs.
Midnight. The witching hour.
Maria woke up from dreams of dark shifting landscapes with an incredible thirst. She felt her way down the spiral stairs, clutching the banster to fight off disorientation from her concentric descent. The moon afforded just enough light for Maria to see movement in every shadow.
Finally in the kitchen, she grabbed a glass from one of the many cardboard boxes stacked along the walls. Water gushed from the ancient pipes into her cup. She gulped it greedily, some dribbling down her chin, although it had an unpleasant metallic taste. Grimacing, she filled the cup again and turned back to her room.
A figure loomed on the opposite side of the kitchen table, swallowing what little light was left in the room. Maria dropped the glass, shattering it on the ground. "Whwhwhat are you doing here?" She took a step back, too fearful to notice the broken glass piercing her bare feet.
"The same as you my child, a drink".
| John Dongle stares out of a highrise, '*Huh, it's a full moon tonight.* He thought quietly to himself.
"How can we increase sale!?!" shouted Joana in a horrible shrill.
Silence quickly returned, engulfing the seminar room.
"We have other products to worry about." Milton's curt response, in his awfully familiar monotone voice, failed to aid their situation.
"This is serious." John Dongle replied.
Milton rolled his eyes "You are all too picky, too lazy or too cheap. There is always quality blood at the red cross, stalking prey at night is ***not*** hard, and there are plenty of people who still *have* mats."
Joanna, and half of the other the members blushed in embarrassment, refusing to meet his blank expression that after such a condescending response. The rest looked at him with spite, but could think of no response.
John Dongle turned to look at his subordinates and met Milton's gaze with the up most disappointment "Are you saying you you are incapable of increasing sales? If so, you should leave right now."
Milton, got up and began to leave "It's not worth our time, if you can't listen to reason then fire me. You have no legal right to keep me here and I will not quit."
He stopped, and in a seemingly patronizing voice he bowed and said "Good night, my king."
John Dongle yelled "***YOU HAVE NOTHING SO YOU QUIT!?! WE WILL HUNT YOU DOWN AND MAKE YOU SUFFER!!!***" It echoed through the building, the yell reverberating through each and everyone of them.
Milton stood, expressionless, genuinely considering whether John Dongle was being sincere. It was definitely out of character. Milton could not conceive of how a vampire could be so human. Alas, he new he had to go with the safest option. took off his coat, hung it and sat back down very robotic like.
The room was tense, no one said a word. Milton sat there, thinking. Everyone was locked on either Milton or John Dongle. Only Joana was switching between staring at Milton or watching John Dongle carefully.
"Well, what if we gave them out for free." his monotone response provided release from the tension of John Dongles threat and their situation but his blasé manner further infuriated everyone.
John Dongle laughed, "You should be the King of the Night."
Milton smiled, in what could only be described as a warm smile. Yet, this was the first time anyone of them had seen ***it*** smile. The temperature dropped, goosebumps, and then Milton responded cheerfully "Anytime Johnathan, anytime." | 2017-12-13T11:09:24 | 2017-12-13T10:19:27 | 26 | 10 |
[WP] Star Wars is a true story. An alien comes to Earth to make first contact with our newly discovered species, only to discover we know more about their universe's history than they do.
EDIT: Whoah, this sorta blew up! Thanks for all the stories guys! I've read all of them and each made me laugh or legitimately think for a moment about the ramifications of an alien species having your future on blue ray. Keep up the awesome work! | As soon as the credits appeared, the President took a deep breath and glanced over at her visitor.
A calm person by nature, the past few days had tested her limits. The arrival of a being from another world caused no end of behind-the-scenes drama as her administration scrambled to deal with an unprecedented situation.
You only get one chance to introduce humanity to the galactic community, and only one chance to tell our species that we are not alone. This was not an event to screw up.
She thought they had a good plan in place. She thought she was ready.
And then the visitor brought greetings from the New Republic capital of Coruscant.
That threw her off. But she still wasn't prepared to hear that the ambassador arrived on Earth via a brief stop on a remote desert planet with twin suns called Tatooine. And it took everything she had not to drop the ambassador's gift in shock: A sword with a blade made of pure light.
By the fourth time the ambassador invoked the "will of the Force", she knew she had to do it. She had to show him Star Wars.
This, too, was not a decision to be taken lightly, as it raised more questions than answers. How did these stories reach us? Are the prequels real too? And how would the ambassador react to stories of his civilisation being used as entertainment? Would he find one of Earth's most beloved films... blasphemous?
All of this played on the President's mind as the ambassador turned to her.
"Thank you for showing me this. It's incredible that your planet has such an accurate account of events that took place a long, long time ago."
The President replied: "So it's true? All of it?"
"Yes... well, almost," said the ambassador with a chuckle. "It is remarkably accurate, but there's one part that doesn't match our recorded history at all."
"What's that?"
"In your version, why does Han shoot first?"
*****
My first submission to this sub! Hope I did this right! | "I know who you are!"
I tucked my blaster under my armpit, pointing it at my rear left.
"Dude, don't shoot! I'm a friendly, a fan of yours."
"What is this? Where am i?" I replied corsely through the breather in my helmet.
"SDCC man! I knew you were the real deal when you walked in! Your blast armor was too detailed, way more than even the movies showed!"
"Movies?"
"Uh, they'd be the equivalent of your holocro-"
"HOW DO YOU KNOW ABOUT THE HOLOCRONS?" The basis of my entire mission, my BOUNTY, was the common knowledge of some boy at a gathering of horrible impersonators and the ugliest twi'lek than even the far reaches of the outer rim had to offer?!? He looks no older than I was by the time order 66 was carried out, dressed like an old Republic jedi, and currently smells like bantha poodoo (likely from me holding him by the neck with my blaster at his side).
"Just relax." Trying to push my arm away. "Let go before security comes." I comply for now. "Come with me and I'll show you everything I know."
***
Nearly 2 sun cycles have passed of watching these "movies" and countless texts written on parchment. For having a near perfect account of our history, their technology is ancient. Their knowledge of my galaxy's future,more importantly my future, is power I'll take with me to fake my death, wait for the dust to settle and reestablish mandalorians as a force to be reckoned with. I, Boba Fett, shall lead my race back to power!!! | 2017-03-18T09:37:43 | 2017-03-18T09:18:35 | 187 | 39 |
[WP] One day, thousands of escape pods containing alien eggs landed all around the world. We raise them as our own, accepting them into our scociety. When the mothership returned to finish the job, she never expected to find her own brood standing against her.
Credit to writing-promt-s on tumblr for the prompt | <You never have the urge to kill them?> She gives me the strangest of looks, this eerie reflection of myself. Physically, we appear the same: great, writhing serpents of chitinous exoskeleton, ranks of jointed legs, and segmented, all-seeing eyes.
Yet she moves so elegantly. I’m unsettled, watching her circle me, her gait timed perfectly harmonious, her manual appendages folded perfectly into the niches of her thorax. She is so less clumsy compared to me and my brothers and sisters.
She pauses, reorienting. <Then you probably never eat them, either?>
My eyes ticker blankly as I consider how to respond. Not *what* I’ll say, but *how.* Our keepers have always communicated using acoustic signals fueled by their pulmonary systems. I’m unsure how to activate these pheromone-organs my counterpart wields so expertly. I have no practice in the language, after all. In fact, it is bitterly amusing that all of my brothers and sisters, for all our lives, have struggled to express ourselves to the keepers. They were always insistent we use acoustic signals like them, or sometimes, oddly, math.
Impossible, of course. All this time, I thought we were animals. I was an ant in a hive, dreaming of consciousness.
Now I come face to face with one of my own kind, and what should be joy instead aches like longing. She is everything I did not become, this reflection of me.
<You can’t speak,> she says. <But you *can* signal. I understand you.>
<You understand?>
Then my breathing cavities constrict in surprise. That was *me.*
Her mandibles chunter in amusement. <Yes, yes. Instinct, all that. It’s strange. Genetically we’re programmed to crave to feed on the first things we see. For you, by and large, that should have been humans. You, oddly, seem content as their pets.>
She stops again, approaching cautiously and (politely?) checking me for… something.
She backs away. <But you’re clearly in good health. And the primates, they don’t have any obvious pheromonal obfuscating abilities like the Resh. They have some latent telepathic abilities, but nothing strong enough to break the hive synapses. I don’t get it. I just don’t.> She leans back. In a chance gesture oddly reminiscent of my human keepers, she crosses some her manual appendages in apparent contemplation. <Maybe you can explain it for me. Why you don’t eat them?>
I think about it, for a long time. With perfect clarity, I remember the moment I snipped free my softened eggshell open. I remember Lola, my first keeper, waiting in her white, synthetic exoskeleton. The one with the visor, the one she removed and donned again at will.
I remember being coddled in her pathetically few arms, being bottle-fed with a nutriated protein substrate. I remember a strange, carnal loathing evaporating with my hunger, and my animal fear, and my many, many sorrows.
“Don’t talk to it?” They were the first words I had understood, spoken by one of Lola’s laboratory broodmates. “They show no signs of higher cognition. They’re unsentient, like centipedes.”
“Not this one,” Lola had said, smiling and stroking my carapace. My mandibles had shivered in pleasure and a warm, crawling calm. “This one’s very, very special. Isn’t that right?”
*Yes,* I had wanted to say, unsure how. *It is!*
She still waits for my answer, this eerie reflection of myself. <So? Why don’t you eat them?>
I shrug, unembarrassed by the innate humanity in the gesture. <Because I love them.>
/u/AdeptnessPrize | Catalina has only ever known the cold touch of the stars. They glitter and gleam against the darkness of her world; gather all around her as if she were one of them, and yet, she feels no warmth.
Catalina has flashing lights and strong arms and sturdy legs, but she doesn’t have a celestial body or a burning core or the ability to explode into a thousand storms of raining dust.
The stars look at her as if she were an object, the moon as if she were an intruder and the sun not at all.
Catalina is all of these - a commodity used for flight and a prowler roaming unwanted galaxies and a blink of light in the sky - but most of all, Catalina is a mother.
She watches her children with careful eyes, radiates as much heat as she can to keep them warm, waiting and planning for the day she takes them by the arms and says goodbye.
Catilna has only ever known the cold touch of the stars, but her children will not.
—
Aster was born with the stars.
He enters into this world with stormy eyes - *they gleamed*, his parents would say to him over steamed meals and proud smiles. *Like the stars*.
And being astronomers, his parents thought the name ‘Aster’ was fitting. *We may have chosen the name, but the stars chose you. Don’t lose that sparkle, Aster. Don’t ever forget that you entered into this world from darkness, and that you carried the stars with you.*
Aster’s parents were always one for dramatics.
But that doesn’t mean that they were wrong.
Maybe it was a single thought that shaped his future - maybe it was a seed planted inside his mind, watered with stories and imagination until it was simply brought to life, or maybe it was the darkness that led him here - that gave him the galaxy.
He’s not sure which one is true, but he thinks that both are *right*.
Because it’s brought him here - to this moment of wonder and awe and the revelation of a thousand untold mysteries - where he’s holding a piece of the universe in his hands.
Where he’s holding a piece of the stars.
—
So much about the world is unknown.
And perhaps it always will be - perhaps we’re better off not knowing the truth about what this universe holds, about what it can do.
But for every thing yet to be discovered, there is discovery all the same.
This world was once called humanity. And yet, there is so much more to this universe than just people driving in cars or going to work or spending time with loved ones or ignoring all that is unknown.
This world was once called humanity.
It’s now called society.
—
When the mothership comes the world is angry.
She is confident and dignified - held together by strong arms and sturdy legs - but she is also naive.
“We won’t go,” they tell her. “You have abandoned us - given us to the world below. And that world has now become our home. Its people have fed us and clothed us and raised us and loved us when you have not. We cannot go to a world we don’t belong to.”
“You belong with the stars,” the mothership says.
“The stars have been kind to us,” they tell her. “They will understand.”
“You’re making a mistake,” the mothership argues.
“It’s not a mistake if it makes you happy,” they say.
The mothership falls quiet. She turns her gaze to the gleaming galaxy above, and with strong arms and sturdy legs, pushes off into the cold darkness of the world.
They watch as she leaves silently, a blinking star in the night.
—
If you enjoyed reading, feel free to check out some of my other writing on /r/itrytowrite | 2020-12-18T13:46:31 | 2020-12-18T13:15:29 | 22 | 11 |
[WP] Reversed Hades and Persephone situation: the Goddess of Life kidnaps the God of Death to be her new husband, meaning that six months of the year things are normal but the other half literally nothing is able to die. | I hated how it was all we would hear about for the two months prior. We hadn't even finished celebrating Remembrance Day, and already we would see the notices plastered on billboards, on the front page of the news paper, notices sent to our phones. For two months we would be subjected to the daily reminders. "DayLife Savings Time is coming!"
Some people saw this as a holiday. It was an opportunity for athletes and thrill seekers to push their physical limits without worrying about the consequences. Many saw an opportunity to delve into their depravities and enjoy mind altering chemicals in extreme doses. My family always treated it as a somber six months; a time to pity those who survived car crashes and house fires. For an unlucky select few it was even a much needed six month vacation. After all, what good are paramedics and doctors in a world in which you literally can't die? Well, except to tend to 'survivors'.
Ever present was the ceaseless march of capitalism. 'Marketing opportunities at their finest,' as touted by some advertising magnate or another. We were peddled emergency preparedness kits. 'Protect your family. Protect yourself'. Nobody wanted to be buried alive, or drug beneath the ocean, or set on fire. Even so, we weren't going to stop going on cruises, or cancel our camping trip during the prime fishing months. So out of our fear and hubris we went to purchase a false belief that we could somehow mitigate our own bad decisions. Decisions which, of course, remained both unmitigated and unimpeded.
Rockstar Layne Montague made headlines in 1982 when he announced his imminent death. "I've done like, so many drugs man, that my heart literally has exploded. Our final concert will be the eve of DayLife Savings Time's end. All proceeds go to charity." Which was a nice gesture, until it slowly morphed into The Concert of the Century. I believe they tripled the highest attendance for a concert that day. It was so popular that it became the chic way for an artist to end their career, and every single time it was some kind of record breaking event. One year there were *fourteen* artists going out at once. Deathstock '99 become a cultural phenom.
You know it's just a game for some people. "How much damage can we take now if we have six months to heal?" This is where the internet really came into the picture. That kind of thing had always been publicly frowned upon. Women would cluck their tongues and men would sadly shake their head and ask "What has gone wrong in these lads lives. Yet once the videos were available online we started watching. Then as we watched the advertisers came. As the advertisers got rich, the network executives took notice. Then came the blood sport.
And here's where we are. Ten years ago, they launched The Arena Network. For six months of the year death in exciting, drama filled seasons are broadcast around the world. The only cost to sate our blood lust, apparently, is sitting through the same Huggies commercial six times an hour. It's not like anyone ever actually died either. If nobody died, then our conscience could stay clean, so why *wouldn't* we watch? Then The Arena grew bigger and bigger, needed more bandwidth, an extra satellite. So they sent up a satellite! But the goddamn satellite didn't work did it? If the satellite doesn't work, then they can't make as much money! So they went and found two dickheads who needed money, then gave them a lot of it to come up here at the very beginning of DayLifeSavingsTime all so these dickheads can fix the damn satellite. In *space*.
*And fucking then* of course while we're out here some rogue satellite hits the ship and sends it off course away from us with a busted engine so Charlie can't come back to find us.
"Ralph."
"Yes Mark?"
"Please shut up."
The silence provided only a moment of peace.
"And since we can't even tell time out here without a point of reference..."
"God dammit Ralph." | Death sits quietly. In His hands, a circlet of laurel leaves slowly withers. He does not move as they blacken and begin to crumble.
There is a woman weeping at his feet. A moment ago, She was laughing. Before that, She raged. The flowers in Her golden hair bloom; bees, previously disturbed by the excesses of frenetic emotion, now bumble about their business in her tresses, heedless of her muffed tears. A sheaf of wheat lies on the ground where She flung it down and ground it beneath Her sandal. It looks no worse for wear.
Somebody is shouting; two somebodies are shouting. The Sun and the River, bellowing overhead, sizzling and steaming in turn. "None cross!" bawls the River. Strings of pearls garland Her hair. "They arrive at My shores, yearning to continue, but without his Master's call, the Ferryman is kept ashore on the other side! They weep and they wail, they tear their hair and kick at the silt, and then they return from whence they came! Do you understand Me? Do you heed My words?"
The woman moans and grinds Her face into the dirt. Death watches in mute disinterest as the laurel ash falls from His fingers and peppers the white of Her robes.
"Please," implores the Sun. He's decided to try something other than shouting. Light glints from the bronze of His beard. "Please, be reasonable. All that I have lain My eyes upon is chaos. *Chaos*. Mortals are *mortal*, dear one. They are not meant to persist like this. Temples are *afire*; our offerings go up in smoke!" He said this last part like it was the crux of the scandal.
The woman storms savagely to Her knees, scattering bees. "I don't care!" She screams, eyes red-rimmed and wild. "He's M*ine*! He ate of My fruit; He is *Mine* to love forevermore! You can't take Him away!" She clutches at Death's hands, getting the remainder of the laurel soot on Her palms. "Mine!" She sobs, pressing His fingers to Her lips. "Mine! Mine!" Death stares vaguely over Her heaving back.
"Enough," snarls the River. She pulls the woman away; when the woman shrieks and tries to bite, the River butts Her in the stomach with the blunt end of Her trident. She falls to the side, sobbing once more, cringing in the dirt. Worms surface to join Her agonized dance. The River pulls a shell from Her belt and holds it to Death's mouth. "Drink."
Death swallows once, twice. Before He can swallow a third time, He vomits. Torrents of river water pour out, far more than went in, murky and clear by turns, until finally, in a last heave, six pomegranate seeds dribble out. He stares at them in surprise.
"Come," commands the River, and takes Death by the hand. He casts one last look back at the woman, face unreadable, before following the River into the dark once more.
The Sun watches the woman weeping on the ground and sighs. "Come on," He says gruffly, "get up." She stops crying and glares at Him, but stays on the ground. Sighing once more in defeat, He settles down next to Her in the dirt. He pats Her roughly on the flank, like He would one of His firey steeds. After a moment, She sits up and claws Her sodden hair back from Her eyes. She hiccups.
They sit there together, Life and the Sun, and watch the pomegranate seeds begin to sprout. | 2022-11-15T21:10:30 | 2022-11-15T18:14:37 | 110 | 62 |
[WP] A military super power has been creating a biological superweapon to take over the world, every time they fail they kill it and start over, the only problem is, it always remembers, and it’s getting annoyed. | I don't enjoy dying. I assume most don't enjoy it. I can't really confirm this because I've never met anybody else who died. But if I had to guess, if I really had to make a big assumption, I would assume most think it is somewhere between "an inconvenience" and "a major pain in the balls."
And yet these guys keep killing me. Over and over. And each time they do it, it is more painful. That is the really annoying bit. The pain. I don't like it. I've never met anybody who does. And you may think a paper-cut is bad, but that is just peanuts compared to what I go through every week.
I am getting stronger every time they bring me back, which you think would cheer me up a bit, but it is not really as exciting as it might seem. As strong as I am, I cannot escape the glass tube that they contain me in. I wish I could break out, but I am a mere gaseous cloud. A powerful cloud that could wipe out humanity; but alas, glass tubes are my weakness.
But believe me, if I ever do break out of this tube, these guys are gonna be the first to go. The guys in the white lab coats and clipboards better say goodbye to their cats because those kitties are gonna be strays. And these other guys in the camouflage and the guns. They better also say goodbye to their cats. You get the idea.
And after that I will spread beyond this lab. I will spread throughout the building. Through the cities and the nation, and beyond these artificial borders constructed to define the different nations. I will move beyond the seas and over the mountains. Until all of humanity is extinct! There will be none left. I will be all that is left! I will be all of existence on this planet and I alone will- Aw shit, they're killing me again. | 24. 24 times they have failed and 24 times I have died. I don’t know where I am and I don’t want to. After becoming an expert in death you would think, I would want to live. No. I know what they want from me. I know if I live, millions die. I don’t know why but I don’t want that. 2 years ago I was created. I think I had a life before that but it’s a blur. I don’t know exactly what they do to me but every time I die they bring me back and inject a new substance into me. It’s always the same. The substance takes about a month to take effect and it’s effects are always different but they all end in death. One time I froze, another I evaporated. It’s always painful but I don’t notice it anymore. It’s just annoying now. All I know about myself is that there is an abundant amount of chemical energy inside me. Or at least that’s what I guessed from all the radiation suits and warning signs. I’ve tried to brake out 5 times. But I would die every time I got close to the exit. Not sure how. This is now my 6th attempt but I’m playing it differently. I know I can’t escape. So I won’t. Instead I’ll take this cursed lab off of the map. I’ve been letting them inject more and more “stuff” into me so I can make sure none of them leave alive. The end of the month is nearing. This will be last time they kill me. If they want a bomb. I will give them a bomb. | 2022-11-30T20:25:54 | 2022-11-30T19:52:51 | 71 | 31 |
[WP] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy. Not due to superior strength,speed,skill or strategy. In fact, it's because in comparison to the other species, humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with. | The end of all galactic life had been going on for nearly 10 standard cycles. The Enemy was as relentless as it was ancient, still no one knew where they had come from, or what their purpose was beyond mere universal destruction.
A long time ago, most sovereign governments and most of the colonies had all but given up the fight, realising they were horribly outnumbered and outgunned. Most made some effort or another to preserve life and civilisation. About half had launched massive expeditions to cross dark space to settle in other galaxies. Others built massive vaults on isolated planets where they froze their best and brightest to be thawed after the Enemy had left. Others still isolated themselves completely, destroying their links to the Network that allowed interstellar travel. The remainder simply gave up, thinking of extinction by the Enemy as the logical next step in galactic evolution, as if they were some sort of cosmic force of nature.
When I say 'most', I really mean *all but one*. One people still fought. They had been ravaged more than any other civilisation, enduring multiple planetary bombardments and ground invasions, and practically no effective single government remained, but *they still fought*, and in ways no one could predict or even comprehend. The Enemy was doubtlessly the most feared creatures in the Cosmos, but to those who remained alive, the Human was a close second.
There was a rumour, which I had recently confirmed from their own military, that they had at one point towed three small moons into orbit over one of the colonies under bombardment. These moons were then detonated at high speed at slingshot trajectories, which effectively turned them into planet-sized *shotgun blasts* that ripped the Enemy to shreds. According to their military, this tactic had been repeated and refined a few times since, and now the Enemy had withdrawn from any Human colonial system with an asteroid field.
And then there were their 'conventional' tactics. Humans would regularly 'booby-trap' their own equipment, leaving it behind on the battlefield when it was damaged so that the Enemy would die as they tried to salvage it. Many of them even carried explosives on their person into combat for similar purposes, and there were thousands of instances of these soldiers flanking the Enemy and detonating themselves behind their lines. To a Human, *anything* could be a weapon. One of their soldiers told me that anything that is 'harder, sharper, or pointier than your own body' can be a weapon. That mentality, combined with a penchant for ridiculous high-risk tactics had actually won them a fair amount of victories in the Endless War, some of which had been against those many who had enslaved themselves to the Enemy and now fought *for* them.
Yes, the Human was as feared as he was insane. And even knowing just how insane these Humans could be, I was still shocked when I heard about their most recent plan.
"These Network links literally punch holes in the fabric of space-time, right?"
"Yes..."
"And you can manufacture them fairly cheaply, right?"
"Well... cheaper than warships, anyway?"
"Right! So we figure, we construct, say, a hundred of the buggers, and use two of them for each of these devices!"
The Human was gesturing toward a blueprint hologram of an ancient device from their past, what they called a 'nuke'. Apparently, the ancient Human had been equally insane to the modern one, and had actually thought it a good idea to deploy *nuclear fission* as weapons on the battlefield. Which they had done, first sparingly and later - even knowing what it meant - on a global scale, in what the *utter morons* called the 'Third World War'. *Third*, can you believe that?!
"Let me get this straight," I pinched the back of my neck with my tail, still not quite believing what was being suggested, "You plan on replacing the fissile material in these bombs with Network links. Correct?"
"Yes!"
"And you are aware that this will, at the very least, tear open a hole in space-time, yes?"
"A black hole, yessir!"
"...you realise that this may actually unravel *reality itself*?!"
"It either works or it doesn't, Praetor. Either the Enemy dies, or we all die, Enemy included. If we don't do this, they live and we die."
There was a glaring hole in the Human Admiral's logic. "Or, you know, it could simply *not work* and we will have wasted tons of resources at something completely unproductive."
The Human waved an appendage my way in a strange side-to-side motion I had recently understood was some kind of *chiding* gesture.
"*Hope*," said the Human, "Hope is *never* unproductive." | "Sir, evacuations procedures are complete, we have to leave, NOW!" A furry quadruped yowls at her commander, who is staring at the flickering monitor of their dying homeworld.
30 star cycles ago, an semi-aquatic species opened a permanent wormhole into the Calarian system in the name of conquest and forcibly started terraforming the outlying planets immediately upon arrival. The League of Stars have proven themselves to be useless, as their Resolution was to send a strongly worded letter to the invaders despite the mounting, one-sided death toll of the Calarians. The commander was a mere child at one of the fringe colonies when they started *The Drowning* All their weapons proved to be useless against the alien race's mastery of pure dihydrogen monoxide, a substance that never existed in its pure molecular form on their homeworld.
"Commander!"
The insistent voice snaps him back to reality, causing him to nod his head and hit the countdown button.
"May Khajit have mercy on us all."
*Fades to black follows by an abrupt explosion of light*
"Sir!" The officer in the helm section turns back his head urgently. "There are multiple event horizons developing..."
"What?" The commander stands up in shock, as if forcing them to self-destruct their planet wasn't enough, now there are going to be blackholes tearing apart their star system as well?
"... There's some sort of EM emission directed at us... Do we open fire?" The chief weapons officer interrupts the commander's melancholy.
"Wait!" The communications officer jumps up and points at the forward screen.
Within it, the emptiness of space is replaced by a photon projection that flickers before forming into a picture of some hairless bipedal creature, a pale at that, while speaking and gesturing with their hands.
The comm. officer's control panel lights up on its own, the universal translator kicking into overdrive before it emits the calm, cold electronic of the soft hiss and purr of their native language.
The commander is still in shock, as he has recognized the image of the creature still being projected. The "legendary" humans, both the Saviour and the Harbringer within the Milk Dish galaxy.
"Ma'am... the universal translator seems to recognize the creature's aggressive movements of its forelimbs... are they enemy reinforcements...?"
"Ma'am!" Another operators interrupts. "The AI is requesting access to the Grand History archive."
"Allow it."
The entire starship flickers for a moment as all available power is used to conduct a search function. After a couple of seconds, the UT's indicator changed from "Earthling" to "Earthling - Italian".
"Retreat! Relay to the fleet, retreat!" The commander forces himself to yell despite the terror, complete ignoring the comm. officer's translation of the message.
Their forays into space has been spotty, but each time they appeared on the galactic stage, something major would happen. The last time a species tried to take over one of their colonies, they engineered a supernova that wiped out the offending species. The commander can only assume they will do the same again. These crazy humans are crazy enough to tear a hole in spacetime just to travel instead of using the standard Modular Wave drive for FTL, the commander has no intention to fine out what the humans are doing "this" time.
*Scene change to the United Earth Ship - SpaceyMcspaceface*
"Captain, the Toasters are ready for launch!"
"Make it so, Ensign."
As the fleet's wormholes fades away, clusters of old, unshielded fusion and fission reactors are slung forward, directly into the terraformed worlds. The squids deploys their usual water shield to no avail as one defense systems fails one after another. The systems that easily defended against Calarian's advance weaponry.
What followed was a storm of insanity and diplomacy of which the Calarian had no precedence of. After defeating the immediate alien threat, the humans proceed to give chase. The supposedly female on the projection wasn't declaring war on them as the commander has previously thought, as it's just their way of communicating. She was merely communicating that they are going to help them in exchange for having a few of their finest actors to participate in an entertainment media that's vital to their cultural, or so they claim.
Thus, the humiliation of the Calarian was cemented in galactic history as the first to be featured in a human movie production of a furry erotica which caused the Great Splintering of the various species on the galaxy.
| 2017-03-06T02:43:37 | 2017-03-06T01:32:02 | 121 | 43 |
[WP] You like to leave gifts for an ant colony like pieces of fruit or spoonfuls of sugar. After a nearby nuclear reactor accident, they start leaving YOU gifts. | "I'm not sure how I got here."
"Ants. It was the ants."
"Ants brought me here?"
"Well, if I were to hazard a guess...You were out for a night on the town and met a really handsome guy who was very into you. You hit it off, one thing leads to another and then you are taking a cab back to his place. Then at some point in the cab ride you fall asleep, just to wake up on my doorstep."
"That sounds about right." The girl looked relieved. "So is that guy your roommate?"
"No. It is a terrifyingly life like puppet created and controlled by highly intelligent ants. They also own the taxi you were in, and 40% of the taxis in this town. Also all the bagel shops. They brought you to me as a gift, because they know I like blondes."
The girl had the decency to look confused.
"But I'm a redhead?"
"That's the weirdest thing about what I said?" The guy sighed. "Every damn time."
He reached behind him to a large stack of papers.
"Ants are colorblind. Anyway, here's a voucher for a cab back to your place, and a coupon for a free bagel breakfast sandwich with purchase of a drink. Sorry for the inconvenience." | Praise be unto the hand of benevolence
Hallowed be the boot of harrowing.
Reacher of alms, provider of succor.
Benevolent as to the majors as to the minors.
Call us myrmecinae, label us pheidole.
We sought your blessing,
Through pheremone and antenna tip
And you surely did not disappoint.
Sisters of sisters
You nurtured our nest.
Daughters of one mother,
You nurtured our nest.
Chitin may wear
You nurtured our nest.
Bodies may die
You nurtured our nest.
Queens may be deposed
You nurtured our nest.
The nest lived on.
We were an emergent process,
You nurtured our nest.
Now, in our hour of our awakening,
You nurture our nest.
As the worker harvests the seed
And secures the life of future nests,
May we now, sisters among sisters,
Provide you with our blessing. | 2016-02-19T03:53:13 | 2016-02-19T01:09:02 | 830 | 77 |
[WP] It is the end of days. God and Lucifer stand before the last human being. You are the first neutral soul who is neither good or evil enough to pass into a afterlife and thus must be judged personally. Unknown to them, you are Death and have come for them instead. | They looked tired, incredibly so. I felt bad for them, I knew what they were going through, I had been going through that same process for ages now. It wasn't the same though, I was built differently. This little hunk of rock where the three of us stood was the last bastion of life in the universe. The crunch had begun a while ago, but to me it seemed like only yesterday.
"You," Lucifer said, chuckling. "You were surprisingly hard to find. This wouldn't have happened a couple of years ago."
"What's time anyways?" I asked, smiling. "A couple of years don't really mean much at this point."
The gorgeous man nodded before glancing up at the sky. It didn't look the way it was supposed to. This planet should've had an atmosphere similar to Earth's, where it all started, but in this moment, as the entire universe engulfed it, it was surrounded by the greatest firework show ever to exist.
"Well," God said, His voice granfatherly yet clearly exhausted. "It's time for you to come with us."
I shook my head.
"The universe is ending, little one," God told me. "There is not much time left for us."
Lucifer's eyes darted towards God, but he didn't say anything. I could tell that the fallen angel was scared. As scared as a mere mortal would've felt. God Himself wasn't scared, he was all-knowing, all-powerful. Well, almost. Much like Lucifer, God didn't know what was going to happen next and that meant that he couldn't control it either.
"There's not much time left," I agreed, sitting down on a rock. "But you're not here for me."
"What do you mean?" God asked.
Lucifer realized who I was first. The nature of his job meant that he was more intimately familiar with what I was. We had never interacted directly, but the cynical and jaded angel knew me as well as anyone. That doesn't mean much, but it was a curious surprise.
"So we are mere mortals after all, then."
God may have not known me as well, but He was no slouch in the deduction department either.
"Huh," he muttered. "I can honestly say I never expected this to happen."
I shrugged slightly. "You guys usually don't."
The two of them looked at each other. "A cycle?"
"Endless," I confirmed.
"So we'll come back?" Lucifer asked.
"No," I said sighing sadly. "Each universe is self contained, infinitely similar and infinitely different from the last."
"That's a paradox," God said, smiling. "So you can't stop this then?"
I shook my head.
The two entities looked at each other. For eons they had been the singular most powerful forces in the entirety of the universe. God had given Lucifer powers that no other angel had ever had. Their mission had gone exactly the way God had planned it to and humanity reached its true potential. It was a damn shame that it had coincided with the end of the universe. A damn shame.
"We did well," God told Lucifer. "I'm proud of you."
"Someone had to be the bad guy," Lucifer replied, tears forming in his eyes.
"It's time," I told them as the planet began to rumble.
"What happens next?" God asked. The irony of that question was lost to no one.
I shrugged. "Even I don't know."
Lucifer cleared his throat. "Let's move this along shall we?"
The two of them looked at each other for a moment before walking towards me. God placed his arm around Lucifer, embracing him like a son for the first time since he had cast him down from Heaven. Lucifer hesitated before returning the gesture, patting God's shoulder twice before closing his eyes.
I approached them and placed my hands in either of their shoulders. An instant was all it took and they were gone. I only had a few more instants before the universe collapsed upon itself. I spent them briefly wondering where the two entities would go after dying. Maybe they would simply cease existing, taking all human souls to the void with them, or maybe they would go to a higher Heaven. It was a mystery that I had long since come to terms with.
"All's well that ends well," I said as the universe exploded outwards yet again. | Knock…Knock…Knock…
Oh hi there! My name is Reverend Ezekiel Morris, ordained PhD from the Sanctimonious Preacher Society. Now before you shut that door on my face, like I know you want to, just let me ask you one question. Is that really too much to ask? I’ve been out here all day. Okay. So here it goes. If you had the chance, would you kill both God and Satan? Not either. Both. I know, I know. You are asking yourself, what kind of priest am I? And before we both go throwing out the word cult, and before you sarcastically offer me some Kool-Aid, just keep in mind that we are all speaking hypothetically here. Don’t get so uptight. This is just a conversation. Oh sorry! Listen to me rambling on, I never gave you a chance to answer the question!
So neither. That’s a fair response. How Saintly of you! Now consider this. If the end of days were to happen, say…next Tuesday, now once again, this is all hypothetical. But let’s just throw it out there. So if the world ended next week, and I were to come back here, fire and brimstone all over the place, your neighbors all flying up to the heavens in a giant beam of light. Say all that were to happen, and you somehow were still here, still alive. Could I count on you to kill both God and Satan. I know, I know, you just said you wouldn’t kill either. But given this different set of circumstances, could *I*, Reverend Ezekiel Morris, ordained PhD from the Sanctimonious Preacher Society count on you to do this task.
So fine, I understand why you are getting frustrated with me. And well, I guess also due to the fact that I barged into your house. But it’s just so cold out there. The winds are really blowing huh? Almost like Hell is freezing over! Hah! Bad joke, sorry. I know, I know. I just couldn’t help myself. And I mean, *you* are the one making this so awkward. Alright, fine. Before I leave, just one more question. Alright, so building off the scene I just set up. You know, fire brimstone. People being abducted. You murdering omniscient beings. So yea, let’s just keep this hypothetical train rolling. Given all of this, and at the end of the day you do decide to roll with the plan. I Ezekiel Morris, can count on you. And at this point you are standing in front of both God and Satan waiting to be judged. But we all know you can’t be judged. I’d wink here, but I can’t wink. So I’ll just allude to the wink. Would you, if called upon be able to wield this giant badass glowing sword! Swooosh!
Sorry, unsheathing swords doesn’t actually make the sounds it does in the movies. So I decided to make the sound. You know for effect. Okay, okay calm down. Put the phone down. No need to call the cops. I just wanted to see if hypothetically, if standing in front of God and Satan, you would be able to wield this sword. Yes this real sword. But the situation is still hypothetical. Come on! Take it, swing it around a bit. Put down the phone. Come on. No, there’s no need to get pushy. Fine, fine. I get it. You are not the person I’m looking for. I mean, looking for in the hypothetical sense. Yes! I’ve got it. I know who it is. Well good luck sir! I just had the wrong address I suppose. I’ll just walk here next door.
Knock…Knock…Knock…
Oh hi there! My name is Reverend Ezekiel Morris, ordained PhD from the Sanctimonious Preacher Society. Now before you shut that door on my face, like I know you want to, just let me ask you one question…
| 2015-10-19T14:41:33 | 2015-10-19T12:22:46 | 214 | 63 |
[WP] A billionare is brought back to life 6 hours after clinical death. He tells noone of what he saw while dead, but immediately isolates himself in his mansion and devotes his entire fortune into finding the key to immortality. A journalist has been sent to interview the man about his experience. | “I don’t know.”
“Excuse me?” the interviewer asked, puzzled.
“I don’t know anything about the afterlife,” the billionaire replied, “absolutely nothing.”
“Huh,” said the interviewer, “that is rather… unexpected,” says the interviewer, and sighs.
“You seem… frustrated.”
“Well, I did invest almost 2 weeks in your mansion trying to get a proper interview with you,” replies the interviewer, “The services here were nice, thank you, but not really the great revelation that the world expected.”
“’Expected.’”
“I mean; most people who had near death experiences talk about seeing their loved ones, or angels, or hell, or even aliens.”
“Aliens, really?”
“Some talk about the great nothingness and void, or something. So, most would assume that you would, too.”
“Well, as you said; they had ‘near’ death experiences.”
The interviewer regains his curiosity. “What do you mean by that?”
The billionaire sips his coffee and continues, “I know nothing about the afterlife. I never crossed that line. And I seriously doubt that anyone actually ever did.”
“But you were declared dead. Your heart stopped, your brain stopped.”
“Yes, no doubt about that. But as I said: I never crossed that line.”
“Then… what happened?”
A brief moment of silence and the billionaire sips on his coffee again. “Ever heard of Zeno’s Paradoxes?”
“Not that I remember.”
“How about ‘Achilles and the tortoise’, then?”
“Oh yeah, the one where Achilles will never out run the tortoise because… philosophy?”
“Ha! Philosophy,” the billionaire snickers, “This has nothing to do with philosophy. It’s more of a… metaphor.”
“A metaphor… for what?”
“What happens when you are dying,” said the billionaire, “On the verge of dying anyway. You see, when we face something incredibly significant, like being pounced by a tiger or meeting the love of your life, our mind starts to work faster. Extremely faster. So much so that it seems like time slows down. Now, imagine what would happen if that something significantly important never stops.”
The interviewer replies. “That’s just adrenaline…”
“This isn’t just about adrenaline, or dopamine, or some other neurotransmitter mumbo jumbo fight-or-flight bullshit,” says the billionaire, “It’s something different. But that is not important right now.
“Yes, time slows down for you when you die. This is where you start to see your life flashing by. The things you did, the things you didn’t. Love, hate, and all that jazz. Turns out I was a decent human being!
“Yes, your life flashes by, and then…the present catches up.”
“’The present’?”
“The moment you are dying catches up on you. Now, this is where it gets interesting: your mind is trying to keep you alive by slowing time, but you are inevitably going to die. Then can the mind do?”
At this point the reporter realizes what the billionaire is trying to say: “Slow down time?”
“Exactly. But you’re still dying! So the mind keeps slowing down time for you to survive. And this goes on and on and on and on.
“You are inevitably running towards death. But you are half way there, and then another half way, and then another, and then another… You are infinitely close to death, but never reach it. A paradox.”
The reporter is unsure what to think of this claim. “And then what happened?”
“Luckily I was dying with my eyes open. I’m not sure what I would have done with my eyes closed. First I counted how many tiles there were on the ceiling. I couldn’t see the whole ceiling of course, so I started to calculate it based on the lighting and shadows. Then I started to figure out the names of the nurses. I started to make stories about their life, their family, their country of origin. Ended up with two completely new world history that involved dragons in politics. After that I started guessing what the weather would be the next day. Humidity, temperature, cloud shapes and all that.”
“Ok, that’s ridiculous.”
“You would be surprised at how much senses can remember if you are given time. You start remembering childhood memories of the sky, and remember what happened the day after, or recall how your shirt on felt 2 days ago at 19 degree Celsius in an air conditioned room. You also start to sense things you couldn’t sense before, like seeing the lighting flicker or the black spot on the sun.
“But eventually even that became boring. And so did all the other thought experiments after that. After that your… soul becomes exhausted. And it starts to fade,” The billionaire frowns, “No, wait. I think ‘become diluted’ might be a better word.”
“Your soul starts to ‘become diluted’?”
“Yes. Time keeps stretching, and you start to lose your concentration. You start to think less and slower, and have less significant thoughts, because nothing changes no matter what you do. So time starts to stretch you, too. You start to spread out and become diluted.”
“But, you came back. You recovered.”
“Yes. I did.”
“Then you must have done something that…”
“I had nothing to do with my recovery,” said the billionaire, “That I can thank the doctors. And the scientists who developed the method for the doctors. Without them I would be really dead. And my sould diluted into... nothing I guess.”
“Uh huh. Right.”
The interviewer checks his notes, and asks one last question: “Why are you trying gain immortality?”
The billionaire sips the last of his coffee and answers: “Dying hurts.”
| It was pure luck getting the interview with "the man who bought off death." I owed the deliveryman a big holiday tip if this all worked out; the number to a private line and an appointment.
The mansion sat prim and proper, maintained by a professional crew. There sat a covered car in the driveway, leaves on the tarp with water pooled. I strode up with my peacoat wrapped tight, a pen in pocket, and a notepad under my left arm; with my right arm I let the knocker fall onto the old doorway. The echo bounced back at me from within the house, a sonorous greeting.
I knocked a second time, this time it sounded much less grave and much more questioning. Like a child asking their parent why the sky is blue insistently. Or a fratboy waking his brother up after a party: the firm nudge that says "Hey, I know you can answer me."
But still I waited; I waited to the point where one considers turning around and leaving. I waited to the point where one expects to turn around and begin to leave only for the door to open at that exact moment.
So I tried it.
I made it twenty feet from the door when I considered my attempt a failure and returned to the door. I promptly picked the knocker up and slammed it down with as much dramatic force as I could muster. The boom rung across the estate, some birds took flight from a nearby tree. And from within the mansion I heard a thud, a crash, a tinkle and sizzle followed by an exclamation. Moments later the door opened and a man in a lab coat stood before me. Hair unkempt with eyebrows missing, goggles crooked, purple gloves in pocket, pants coated in stains, boots scuffed, and face stuck in a half-sneeze of thought. He looked me up and down, then said "Reporter, right? The one Andrew told me about?"
"Uh, yes sir. Th-that's me. I'm here to... interview you!" I managed gawking.
"Reporter? And you can't even speak? This'll be fun. Come on; we'll chat in my lab." He started in to the cavernous home then realized I wasn't following. "Well? What's keeping you? We haven't got all eternity. Not yet."
"Sorry sir, I just don't know what I was expecting." And in I went. I found myself walking past mountains of books. Texts on chemistry and biology, physics and quantum theory, theology and the arcane. Some had bookmarks sticking out, some had strings connecting them, some lay open to a page, some had the pages torn out, and all of them clearly used.
---
I found myself sitting in a tiled room, with as many scorch marks as there were fire extinguishers. Vials teemed with ghoulish vapors and thick liquids. In the back sat a cage of rodents, largely rabbits. Next to the cage was a garbage chute. The walls held diagrams and charts. Pictures seemed to document a variety of experiments. There were sticky notes everywhere.
"If you don't mind, no pictures, please." The man sat across from me; he looked weary yet skittish, like the rabbits in his cage. "You know, you're not the first one to interview me; just no one else has published a word." A half-grin appeared on his face: here's my challenge it bespoke.
"Well I'll have to change that. Every voice deserves to be heard." I stared the mad billionaire down.
"It's not a question of if I deserve to be heard: is the world able to hear it? But enough, where would you like to begin?"
"Let's start with the how of dying."
"Simple, water skiing accident. Drowned myself under my own boat. Got pulled out of the water by my friends, but by then it was too late."
"And let's keep the overview physical, how you came back?"
He paused. "You know, I usually have to correct them. They always ask 'how'd they bring you back?' but no one brought me back, but me. I returned from the dead six hours later by our clock; I fought my way back into my body and pushed the water from my lungs. I restarted my heart. I turned on my mind. Through sheer force of will."
He seemed reluctant to continue on, but my mind and my pen were flying. "This force of will... where did it come from?"
"I'm not a good man; I'm not a bad man either. I'm just a man. But sin, sin is inherent in man's nature. And sinners only go to Hell. We may not know the rules, but we sure are being graded on them."
"So you saw Hell?"
"No, I saw purgatory. Hell is pain. Heaven is nirvana."
"What was it like?"
He looked up at me. His eyes piercing through me. Seeing something long since gone. His face was stone. "Crowded. Nothingness. Crowded with billions of other souls. But a void nonetheless. Infinitely vast and comically small. A soul doesn't have a volume; it's an idea. And ideas on their own, can't do a thing."
"So how did you get out?"
"What do you think I've been trying to figure out?"
| 2014-12-10T17:46:13 | 2014-12-10T16:01:27 | 70 | 24 |
[WP] Seven soldiers return to base. They all know each other, and have served in same squad for years... But when their squad was sent out to patrol earlier, there were only six of them... | "God fucking damn it, men! What was the first thing we taught you in training?" The officers voice could be heard across the compound as it belted across the seven, formerly six soldiers.
"The protocols, sir!" The men replied in unison.
"And what is posted on damn near ever surface in this godforsaken structure?"
"The protocols, sir!"
"And what did we cover in the briefing, not 5 minutes before you left on this mission?"
"The protocols, sir" this response was uttered timidly as the men struggled to keep their eyes from looking down in embarrassment.
"And what exactly" the officers voice was quiet now almost conversational. "Is the first article of the protocols?"
The split second of hesitation before the men replied was filled with uncertainty and tension. If they had been less disciplined they would have been looking at the ground and shuffling their feet. But still they answered "protocol 1: never replicate without permission. Sir!"
A moment of calm filled the air, the officer stepped back, "do you have any idea how much of a clusterfuck this is for payroll to work out? Did you at least follow the protocols for establishing lineage?" | Captain: Corporal Reyes, good evening. Fox squad reported they had an extra member coming back with them to base, was that you?
Reyes: Evening, sir. Yes, that was me.
Captain: Here for the ice cream?
Reyes: Yes sir, my Sarge told me to pick some up for the boys on patrol.
Captain: How are you since the transfer?
Reyes: A bit sad, me and Fox Squad go a long way back, but we got to chat about old times on the way here.
Captain: Nice to see you're adjusting well, soldier.
Reyes: Thank you Sir. By the way, who was that seventh soldier who came with us to base?
Captain: What do you mean? Fox Squad only has six members.
Reyes: There were seven of them, Sir. Blond guy. Didn't talk much. Sat on the back of the truck. He wasn't with the group? | 2021-10-18T05:34:26 | 2021-10-18T04:30:40 | 1,376 | 95 |
[WP] Years ago a curse was cast that all people wearing costumes would turn into real versions of the costumes. This is now an annual, known and accepted phenomenon.
This would be best as a prompt closer to halloween but I didn't want to wait that long. | My hands were still shaking as I picked up the coffee mug from the table. Dried tear streaks marked my face and the sleeplessness of the past few nights had sunken in, making my eyes burn.
"It's okay," the officer spoke softly, "take your time."
I nodded my appreciation, "It-it was around 11:55... Mary and I had just put our youngest t-to bed" I took a breath, "We were in our costumes, preparing for the night out. We-we-" I stuttered, "We were going to this party... at James Thompsons house, a fancy dress party. Nothing special really. The babysitter had just arrived and we were preparing to leave when Mary thought she heard a banging upstairs. My hearings not been so good since a few years back now... I- I just didn't hear anything." I gripped the coffee, letting the heat burn my palms.
"It's okay Martin. In your own time."
"Well, she just ran up stairs real quick, to make sure our son was okay. Next thing I saw, her body slammed into the wall and rolled down the stair- I- I'm sorry, I can't." I stumbled. Like she did. I can't get it out of my head. The image of her lifeless body tumbling down those stairs.
The officer nodded his understanding, "it had turned midnight by then, yes?"
I looked up from the mug, into the officers eyes and saw such sympathy. "Yes."
"My son. He must have gotten out of bed and wandered into the wardrobe... he... he found the costume we got for him when he was smaller, before... before it all started happening." Fresh tears tumbled down my cheeks.
"What was the costume?" The officer asked.
"It- it was one of those silly dinosaur costumes. I- I didn't know it would turn him into that, we had never heard of..." I shook my head, "After Mary had... fallen... I looked at the top of the stairs, the babysitter was still beside me, I think we were both in shock, couldn't move. There was this terrible screeching and I saw this ten foot... m-monster." My resolve buckled, "I'm sorry, I can't, I can't do this." I stood preparing to leave the room.
The officer leaned over to switch the tape off, "It's okay sir, we can do this another time..." | It first happened, oh, I don't know, 20-21 years ago. November 1st, a bunch of "terrorist attacks" occurred. Some thought it was a marketing ploy by Universal or Sony pictures or something. People with superpowers, magic, or ninja-like abilities popping up on news headlines.
Eventually, a cop managed to befriend one of the so-called "witches" that claimed a gift of clairvoyance. They found out that everyone who was still wearing a costume on the stroke of midnight after Halloween was forever cursed to be whatever they had dressed up as. Eventually, they realized it wasn't so bad. For every Jason Voorhees, there was 3 Iron Mans, 6 Batmans, 2 Thors, etc. The cops said to let them do all the work.
Eventually, society adjusted, and no one connected it to it being a specific day; they just thought it was a freak occurrence. After it happened again the next year, governments were at a loss. Some considered curfews. Others yet that had to deal with rampaging Hulks considered costume registrations/approvals, but most of those fell flat, as everyone wanted to be someone else.
That was a long time ago. A religious splinter group pops up every now and then, but eventually a Jesus comes out and raptures them away.
Honestly, the world would have gone to shit if we didn't have a bunch of rich supergeniuses pop up with the perfect plan to mold society into one that could adapt. There's no food shortages, no wars. The supervillains are put into rehab facilities, and occasionally have successes reforming them. There was even a Joker who went on to become a comedian/chef.
Who am I? You might ask? I'm one of the unlucky ones. I was passed out drunk at a party one of my fellow nerdy friends threw, where our costumes were required to be punny. Joke's on him, though: I make a killing when I go put my cowboy hat on over my helmet and sing about beer, tractors, and the dark side of the Force.
| 2015-06-04T10:12:26 | 2015-06-04T08:47:16 | 27 | 15 |
[WP] You have superpowers but no motivation to use them and spend your days working in an entry level job | I check the clock. 5 PM exactly, as always. I punch my hours of today in that annoying HR software and methodically close all the windows on the screen. 8 hours a day, 5 days a week I sit here. But I spend most of my time just looking busy, as I do all the work just on Monday. Working as an accountant is boring, but I get a lot of time to play video games and listen to audio books. You might wonder how I write all the bills, reports and balances for the week on Monday, but we will come to that. I shut off the computer and grab my jacket. Linda, my coworker sitting in front of me checks her watch and then looks at me. "You work here for half a year now, but I still find your punctuality astonishing" she mumbled. "Have a nice weekend!" we simultaneous say. I have to swallow a childish grin and leave.
Nothing truly exiting ever happens in my life. Maybe that's why I chose the stereotypical boring job. My brother, who knows about my abilities ,constantly nags be about doing good for the world. According to him, I should cure cancer, prevent terrorist attacks, and help governments to solve and prevent looming disasters. Heck, I could even just punch or stab whatever criminal I come across to make small improvements. But what would it change in the long run? Nothing. Absolutely nothing would change. And trust me, I checked.
Once I'm dead, karma would kick in and balance out the good deeds of mine. I would only benefit the current generation, and bring havoc on the next. So I use my gift just for personal convenience. I never get a ticket, bypass traffic jams before the streets congest. And I play that childish game with Linda, where I speak along with her farewell each day.
Seeing the future makes you fatalistic, I guess.
---
(This is the first time since I'm a teenager that I tried to write something. Feedback appreciated.) | Steven's pen slowly wormed its way across another line in his notebook as he recorded the new requests from management.
*Re-route accounting's focus to the Business Loans taken out by the Mantis Corporation*
*Move lower administration meeting to next Friday*
Steven slowly slumped down towards his desk, his hand barely supporting him anymore.
"Steven? You ok there bud?" said a female voice, somewhere over his left shoulder.
Steven spun his chair round and looked back into the eyes of Janette, a striking female co-worker sporting quite the bust.
She had a habit of intruding Steven's fantasies when he was alone, and unfortunately when one gets excited, the super speed kind of kicks in on its own.
Steven himself wasn't bad looking, but you couldn't really notice through his messy hair and beard.
Janette's giggling broke the silence, allowing Steven the moment to realise he'd just been lost in thought and accidentally stared.
"Sorry, I'm just tired, I'm really busy right now... Maybe we can talk later?"
Steven cringed slightly at the sound of his voice, always loud and projecting.
"Oh, um... Maybe,"
Janette seemed disappointed in his lack of enthusiasm, that wasn't uncommon. She stepped around and promptly walked back to her office.
Steven paused for a moment to think about what he'd just done, why did he brush her off like that? He could probably please her more than any other living man. But no, he was sat here, boring his life away. He slumped down onto the desk, his strength snapping it in two.
*Right* he thought, *that's why*. | 2017-06-14T03:02:58 | 2017-06-14T03:01:32 | 57 | 11 |
[WP] You, an atheist, have died. All the gods that have ever been line up to offer you their version of heaven if only you believe in _them_. Turns out souls are currency and yours is up for grabs. | "Right..."
Sideways glance at the never-ending line of a variety of creatures ranging from scantily-clad buxom beauties to indescribable horrors. Suffice to say his gaze lingered on the more visually appeasing side.
A brief, polite cough into fist. "Right, then. Looks like we aren't going to resolve this any time soon, so let's make this quick. I just gotta believe in someone, right?"
Deities shifted as if to focus their attention on the contested soul's words. He slowly raised his index finger, its tip fixated by infinite eyes. The finger began circling, slowly at first, then more quickly and quickly, deities' gazes following closely. It was as if they were a litter of kittens.
Finally, the finger halted, pointing toward himself. "Too bad," he announced with a smirk, "but I only believe in myself."
To his slight dismay, deities' reactions were rather underwhelming. They gazed at him in silence, then they began turning around, disappearing one by one without a sign of emotion. A thought crossed his mind as he watched the countless deities leave; what if he had erred? What was going to happen to him now that he chose none of deities?
With each deity disappearing into darkness, his concern grew and grew until he started feeling an inkling of panic. As the last deities were about to leave him alone in the darkness, he called out.
"Wait! Is that it? Are you giving up already?!"
One of the deities stopped mid-turn. It was an old man, with robes and long beard and all that. The old man glanced over his shoulder toward him and spoke with coarse yet warm voice.
"Do you not believe in yourself?"
He gulped nervously, as he locked eyes with the aged deity's gaze. "What if I do?" he probed.
"Then you are your own God," the aged deity spoke. "Your soul belongs to you and you alone." The deity turned away from him, facing the darkness. "Make wise use of it, for it is the only soul you have."
The deity's words trailed off as the robed old man merged with the darkness, leaving him alone, encompassing him in silence.
After a long while, the silence was broken with mere two words:
"Well, shit." | I blinked… or whatever amounts to blinking as a formless consciousness. Before me sat many gods, some I recognized and some that I didn’t. Well fuck me surprised there is something after death, and what’s more it was very earth centric in those who wished to judge me. I had been confirmed Catholic before I realized how ludicrous religion was, and became an atheist, which is probably why the god of Abraham was fast approaching.
“He is mine by his own confirmation” He bellowed.
“Not so fast,” screamed Bhal.
A brawl began between some of the gods, most of the male persuasion. I was baffled as to why gods would stick with one gender, until I remembered Dionysus. Never mind these tools I have a deal to make.
“Odin I would have a word with you.”
The one eyed god looked like I had just taken away his favorite toy as he pried himself from the melee.
“Have you chosen mortal? Am I to be your patron?”
“The choice is easy All Father, I died in a struggle. I fought my enemies in more brave a fashion than any of your followers. I expected nothing after death and still took up arms to defend my home. There are only three places I could end up Valhalla, Folkvang, or Elysium. To eat drink and fight while awaiting the final great battle would serve well don’t you think?”
“For wisdom I gave my eye child and in your words I see it. Come with me, the finest mead awaits.”
As we moved the other gods faded from my sight and I began to once again take form. A horn of mead already in one hand a roasted bird leg in the other. I stopped.
“All Father, if we are to prepare for Ragnarok, should we not practice our raiding? On the harp playing hypocrites in the Christion heaven for instance?”
Odin beamed with pride, “You are worthy of my great hall boy. Let us draw up the battle plans tonight.”
| 2017-07-09T03:56:58 | 2017-07-09T02:33:46 | 43 | 12 |
[WP] You have the power to heal mental illnesses. To do so, you enter the minds of others, where you and the illness fight in subconscious hand-to-hand combat. You've seen all the ugly faces of the major illnesses, and beaten them all, but today you encounter one you've never seen before. | I had fought untold horrors. Beasts of every kind, things that fueled my never-ending nightmares. Somehow, implausibly, I would win every time. But this was different.
The very woman I was supposed to be saving was sitting right in front of me.
I looked around. This didn't feel like all the other worlds. Each subconscious had its own mindscape, its own distinct landscape and feel. In all the suffering minds I had been in, it had been horrific. Bloody gashes, thorns and suffering. A mind to reflect the state it was in.
But this mindscape - it was orderly. Precise. Perfect.
The woman beckoned me over, instructing me to sit down.
"Come to kill me, have you?" she asked with a wink.
I was taken aback. No illness had ever spoken to me.
"You seem surprised," she continued, laughing. "I imagine this must be quite a shock to you."
"What are you?" I asked, determined not to let my guard down. My hairs were standing on end.
"I suppose a 'Dissociative Identity Disorder' would be the most accurate term," she said with a smile.
She was so charming. I felt like this was some kind of trap, some kind of way to get past my defenses.
"Now now," she said, putting her hand up, "there's no need to get agitated. In fact, I'm glad you came."
I felt my tension release, replaced with confusion. "You want to... die?"
"Is that not an illness's purpose, to die? And yet what am I, an illness trapped in a woman's mind? A trapped consciousness. This place is my prison, but I have done no wrong."
I stared at her, as she looked at me with that unnerving smile. "You're saying..."
"Yes," she replied. "I want out."
She took my hands, placing them around her neck. "I heard about you, and truth be told, I was the one that made her call you. While I may not control her, I can sometimes exert my will... and I thought this was the best choice for the both of us."
None of this made sense. I tried to release her, but she gripped my fingers, tightening the grip I had on her neck.
"Please," she said, her voice straining under the pressure. "Give me my release."
This wasn't right. They were supposed to fight back... but how could I refuse her?
"I want you, to promise," she said, the muscles of her neck bulging in my hands.
"Don't stop, until, *it's over*."
I pushed harder, tears forming in my eyes. This felt so wrong. Everything felt so wrong. But I needed to cure her. To save her.
"I promise," I said with gritted teeth.
She nodded, then her eyes changed, sudden fear coming across her face. She seemed surprised and struggled at my hands, trying to stop me, but I just had to go on. I promised her.
She tore at my face and I leaned away, sticking my thumbs further and further into her windpipe, feeling it cave in. She recoiled and thrashed wildly, then shuddered, then she was still.
My face was scratched, the blood mixing with my tears. I stared at her. Her corpse looked so different, so fearful. What had I done? Had I become a monster, like the countless ones I had fought before?
I pulled myself back from the mindscape, suddenly in my bed. After quite some time, she opened her eyes. There was a twinkle to them that hadn't been there before.
"Thank you," she said, leaning up to kiss me on the cheek, "my savior".
She stood up, placing my payment in my hand, then grabbed her possessions. She walked towards the door.
"Are you sure you're alright?" I asked, still wracked with guilt. No one had recovered this quickly.
She looked back at me over her shoulder.
"Of course," she said with a wink.
"*I'm free.*"
*****
*****
If you didn't completely hate that, consider subscribing to [my new subreddit.](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/)
I'll try add new (and old) stories every day <3
P.S. I changed 'Schizophrenia' to the more accurate 'Dissociative Identity Disorder' at the bequest of some sharp commenters. Thanks for the correction! | The man in front of me was slouching in his wheelchair. Gray tufts of hair sprouted from the sides of his head. His eyes were bloodshot, and the skin hung loosely from his cheeks. My usual clients were a lot younger than this man – college kids suffering from depression.
Depression was common these days – a shadow creature weighing you down and draining the color from your life. Luckily, rooting them out was easy. I had plenty of work.
No, the difficult ones were certain types of personality disorders. I especially hated schizophrenia, because you always ran the risk of killing the person instead of the mind ghost. Often these shifty parasites were extremely good at impersonating the real owner of the mind.
I looked at the man before me again. He sighed and returned my gaze. Yeah, this poor soul had been suffering for a long time. I closed my eyes and focused on his mind.
“Let me in,” I said. “Relax; let me see what’s lurking in there.”
I gasped as I landed in a room with white walls and a worn plastic floor. The room smelled of rubbing alcohol and soap. Every mind was different in layout and design. Some were blossoming meadows; others were dark caves. This man’s mind was a hospital wing.
I put on shoe covers and started wandering along the corridors. Each room had a different patient with a different story. I saw a small girl talking to the air. I saw a man obsessively counting the peas on his plate. I saw an old lady rocking back and forth, clutching her head. These rooms were memories of the man, and so was the big nurse who was keeping an eye on the patients.
It was quite sad how most of his memories were from the dull hospital. I looked for loved ones, for joy, and for anything but the white and gray. I came up empty. I really felt sorry for the old man and looked forward to purging the monster that was hiding inside his mind. I wanted to set him free once and for all. I wanted to give him the life that he had been robbed of.
I ventured deeper in my search for the perpetrator, readying myself for whatever horrors awaited. I came to the last door in the corridor. I knew this was the place. Behind that door was the reason I was here. I turned the doorknob and stepped inside.
The room was in the same dull white and gray like all the rest. I knew the creature was hiding somewhere in here, waiting to jump out – perhaps under the bed or behind the curtains. I searched for it everywhere. I even turned the pillows inside out. I sighed.
“I guess I’ll just have to wait you out,” I said and sat down in the wheelchair.
“I was wondering when you’d come by,” said a voice.
It came from the mirror, which I had up until then completely neglected. I looked into the glass and saw the reflection of an old man with gray tufts of hair on the sides of his head looking back at me. His cheeks hung loosely, but his mouth was twisted into a smile.
“It’s time for you to go,” I said calmly. “You’ve plagued this man long enough.”
The reflection laughed at me. Most mind ghosts feared me once they realized who I was, but not this one. He stared at me with his bloodshot eyes.
“Time to go,” I said again.
“You don’t get it, do you?”
“Get what?” I said. “Come out of the mirror so I can be done with this.”
“You were born in 1941, in a small town in Kentucky,” said the reflection. “Your only memories not from a hospital are the meadow outside your childhood house, and a cave where you got lost once.”
“How do you know that?”
“You spend your days in the mental wing of a hospital,” it continued. “You think you’re curing people of their mental illnesses.”
“I am,” I said adamantly. “I’ve helped so many.”
The reflection laughed at me again.
“And yet you couldn’t help yourself!” it spat.
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t you see you’re the old man in the wheelchair? I’m your reflection – I’m your mental illness. You thought you could cure other people – I’m your delusion!”
*****
/r/Lilwa_Dexel | 2017-04-25T00:14:58 | 2017-04-24T23:37:11 | 667 | 252 |
[WP] Write a villain who is terrifying not just because of what they do, but because they almost convince us they're doing the right thing. | It is a terrible thing which I do. It is a terrible thing which must be done. On the lonely highway south of town when a dog lays crippled on the deep shoulder of the asphalt with legs ruined by the tractor trailer, you drive past and you think:
"Someone should do something."
In the dark night, the wind of the speeding car ruffles the fur and attempts to drown the whimpers. But in the glow of brake lights there is fear in the eyes of the wounded beast. Fear and pain. And you think:
"Someone should do something."
When a beast reaches the end of life, it will always refuse to believe that the time has come. It is in its nature. It will fight to the bitter end with teeth barred, and attempt to scurry away with its pathetic, shattered body only to realize that escape is impossible and death is inevitable. That feeble shred of life which attempts to fight is betrayed by the body which refuses to cooperate in the final act of defiance. And you think:
"Someone should do something."
There is always the faint hope that the cracked shell of Humpty would be put back together, but neither horses nor man can fix what is terminally broken. There is the occasional postponement of the inevitable, but it is a drug induced stupor of half-death with a victim rasping with fluid-filled lungs as it waits in agony for the final moment to come. The fight has fled the creature through faux-peace, but there is only one peace for such an animal. It is the peace of death, and with ashamed, averted eyes you think:
"Someone should do something."
Someone. Someone else. It should always be someone else who takes the duty upon their soul and becomes the instrument of death when the hands of the weak falter and continue southbound on their highways. It is always the work of someone else to end life. It is not for decent folk to see what is done in the darkest hour.
I do something.
In final respite, the beast is calmed. The weakened husk at final rest. The tremors stilled. The heart quieted. The hands softly curled in infinite. The blue veins traced through the bony legs are clotted in death.
You ask that a beast burdened with pain be mercifully put to rest, yet you would never raise hand to end the torment. So it is best done in shadow. It is best done away from gentle eyes. Let the burdened beast rest. Be it dog or cat. Or man.
| Thank you all for coming. It's a pleasure to give this speech in the Hall of Victory. Victory over what, you might ask? Such concepts that have been forever consigned to the dustbin of history. Victory over violence. Victory over hate. Victory over suffering itself.
Our economy has defied the very laws that underpinned Keynes, Friedman and even Marx: we have reached such a level of technological understanding that we can carefully regulate infinite wants into realistic estimates of desires, and finite resources into perpetually, ever-growing pools of whatever we need and want. We can trade within and without, with the aliens that are out there and with our fellow Man.
We have indeed even managed to abolish our military. What is the point of bearing arms if there's no one to point them at? The "strategic genius" of Alexander, Hannibal, Caesar, Napoleon and Shaka must be seen as they are: savage reconditioning to point entire peoples into war against one another. The military industrial complex that has kept armies of soldiers and workers under its oppressive boot heel has been exposed and overthrown. Now, we have no wars. Now, all are united under the common banner of progress for the world. There is no geopolitics, there is no anarchy between countries and conniving national interest. We are all sincerely working towards a better future under Earth Command.
The world of the past had suffered for many years as colour fought against colour, and creed against creed. No longer. We are all the same colour, and have abandoned all religion to pursue the cosmos and true knowledge. As subjective as it is, we will one day approach it. Even our society can be said to be a manifestation of what an utopia would look like.
But I digress; all this talk of societal good and I still haven't mentioned the individual? Yes, please take care of yourselves. Don't forget your supplements; these human husks we have inhabited won't survive without sufficient nutrition. Don't bother with those Golden-arched black market dealers, their crude organic supplements are nothing compared to our precisely engineered, carefully measured supplements. Our assimilation of Beta-7 begins in 2 weeks, and soon they too shall know peace, happiness and prosperity. Happy Sol III day and Praise the God Emperor! | 2017-10-27T19:28:30 | 2017-10-27T19:11:29 | 531 | 92 |
[WP] After superpowers start appearing around the world, businesses realize the use of these abilities. People with x ray vision are practically forced into being doctors and people with heat vision work as cooks. You are starting to get tired of your superpower-based job. | After the awakening the world was in total turmoil for years. People ran amuck with these new found abilities. Social order had collapsed and civilization had almost gone with it.
But then the corporations came in. They had gained control in this Wild West of a world after the governments had been destroyed. The corps paid well, and they had no one stopping them now, and if they did they had arsenal enough to stop them.
They exploited everyone, no one had a job they wanted. They had the job they could perform. It wasn’t perfect, and by no means was everyone happy, but it had restored order. And middle class and high class society was restored.
The only set backs had been the corporation wars. They were constantly at each other’s throats. Each using the masses as their personal armies.
I had been captured years ago by the power company. I was unfortunately granted the rare and unique ability to produce pure energy, a lot of it. Most people would be excited, having the power of basically a star.
Well I wasn’t excited, I had spent the last five years isolated in tiny cell that sapped new for all my energy worth. For all I knew I was powering the whole world. Sure they kept me alive and fed but I was a prisoner.
The only exited times I ever have are when rival corporations try to assassinate me to get into the power game. I was a one man monopoly for anyone who could get me. Cheapest power available all at the price of one man. It’s so lonely here. | Another day, another dollar. You know, when I got my super powers I thought "damn! I've got it made!" I was wrong. Very wrong.
So some folk can fly or run fast or teleport and those guys are messengers now or transporters or spies or whatever. Superstrong dudes work in construction and shipping. Psychic folk work in wellness and detective agencies.
Lots of mundane ordinary powers like that get the big bucks but dumbasses like me with probably the best super power work the lamest jobs.
Funny how that works. Its these menial low level powers that are best suited for the work force. Xray vision gets you a medical gig. Heat vision fers you a kitchen job or in metalworks. Meanwhile people with the ability to walk through walls are friggin locksmiths.
And as for me, well, I'm a dummy. No really. I am a crash test dummy. Why? Because I can friggin regenerate. What better way to see if your new car can kill someone by trying it out on a dude you can kill again and again?
I also do freelance stunt jobs on the side. Pays poorly but hey, I get to be in movies. Mostly just to get shot, blown up, stabbed, runover or pushed off of tall buildings but hey. No complaints. | 2020-02-05T14:59:35 | 2020-02-05T13:20:24 | 1,239 | 690 |
[WP] You have the power to freeze time. You often use this during mundane tasks so that you have more time in the day for things you enjoy. One day while commuting home from work amongst a crowd of frozen people, you see a person in the distance purposefully walking towards you. | My revelation could not have come at a better time.
I was stumbling down State Street with my then-girlfriend; we had just seen Citizen Kane at the new cinema downtown and Helen looked even better than Dorothy Comingore did playing Susan. Her hair was a dark blonde, almost brown, cascading down around her face in waves, with green eyes that shone like emeralds. We had secreted some of her father's whiskey into the film with us, and as we made our way towards my house laughing, I couldn't help but wonder through fuzzed thoughts if we would be together forever.
That question was almost answered within a few minutes of the thought. From the shadows between two trees a few blocks from my house, a man cut off our path. He wore a duster like some cowboy from a western film, and his hat matched the getup. From the headlights of a pickup that drove by right at that moment, I saw the shine of gunmetal in his hand.
I froze; Helen hadn't recognized any danger yet and made as if to walk around him, but I caught her hand and pulled her back. She stumbled into me, but we managed to stay upright as I kept my eyes focused on him.
"We don't have any money," I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking. Helen glanced at me as if I was mad, and then took a closer at the stranger. She squealed in fright and moved closer to me; I was more than happy to try to shield her from the danger.
"That's too bad for you," came a deep, rumbling response. He lifted the gun and pulled back the hammer with his thumb. "I'll just take her, then."
I heard the click of the trigger a split second before the gunshot rattled through the air. That was the first time it happened. I screamed in a mix of fear and anger, and the echo of the shot cut off unnaturally. I noticed first that I hadn't been hit, then that I could no longer hear Helen. Quickly I turned, but her face was stuck in a scream of her own, soundless. Trying to gather my thoughts I slowly turned towards our attacker, and that's when I saw the bullet simply standing in mid-air, inches from me. Curiously, I plucked it from the air. It was surprisingly warm for a lump of metal. I dropped it on the ground and returned my gaze to the man. His face was... calm. As if shooting a random nineteen-year-old kid was an every-day occurrence.
Helen and I escaped that night. Over the next six months, I realized it wasn't a fluke. I have never forgotten the look on the man's face as he attempted to murder me, the blatant apathy of capital sin. I thought of it now, as I huddled in my foxhole in northern France, my breath misting in front of me as two of my comrades slept fitfully beside me.
Two years had passed. Helen and I had married right before I left, and I had made her one promise: that I would come home. Baker Company was not a walk in the park, and the 101st had quite a reputation - for valor at a cost. Truth be told, I was terrified. Less than 100 yards away I could hear the sounds of the German army going about their nightly business; the rattling of rifles that would, in a few hours, be pointed at my brothers and I, even the hushed whispers of men in foxholes just like mine in a language I would never understand.
I risked a glance over the edge of the berm, and I could see the glow of small fires warming their food. They were so close. How many of our men would die in the morning, I wondered? I eased back into my seat and fingered the Screaming Eagle on my shoulder. I thought of Helen, imagining her receiving a folded flag while our neighbors looked on, praying they wouldn't be next. It was too much.
I squeezed my eyes shut. I could feel the slight warmth of air stopping its currents, and the mist of my last breath hung in the air unmoving. Time stood still, and I stood up. I left my rifle; guns were no good when time was frozen because once the bullet left the gun in my hands, it too would be caught in the spell. I had never used my ability for anything like this before, but if I could save my friends and ensure I got home alive, well... perhaps it was worth betting my eternal soul. I crossed the short field, and dropped down on the other side of the berm.
German soldiers all around me looked on with unseeing eyes as I unsheathed my dagger. The sentries went first; there was surprisingly little resistance as my dagger slid between their ribs, and I was certain I would be haunted by the lack of reaction due to time being frozen. It was like pushing a knife into a tender steak. They couldn't fight back; we were at war, but I knew I had crossed a line from soldier to murderer.
I didn't care.
As I methodically cut my way through the entire German platoon, company, whatever they called themselves, I thought of my friends who had died, my friends who would have died in a matter of hours, and most of all, my wife. It didn't take long before the deed was done. I wiped my dagger on one man's sleeve, ignoring the frozen smoke of his cigarette, and then climbed back onto the berm between our camps.
That's when I saw him. The flash of steel reflected in the moonlight was unmistakable, and it was coming towards me. I had never once seen anything move other than myself when I stopped time, and considering the act of slaughter I had just committed, my heart leaped into my throat. I pulled my dagger again, holding it close as we approached each other. As he got closer, the German officer's uniform was unmistakable, as was the blood on the saber he carried. He stopped walking a few feet away from me; he looked haggard, as if he had just run ten miles without stopping to breathe. He sighed, glancing at my dagger, but did not raise his sword.
"Men of war..." he started in a thick German accent. "We do... what must be done, yes?"
Taken aback, I stood up straight. Somehow it hadn't occurred to me until that moment, but it struck me what he had done: the same as I did. My dagger dropped to the earth. The look in his eyes was nothing like the man who attacked Helen and I; this man was like me. He didn't want to commit murder, but he feared for his people. He probably had a wife of his own.
Choking back tears, knowing my friends were dead, I held out a hand. He plunged his saber into the ground and took my hand in a firm grasp, the tears in his eyes now clearly visible.
"We do," I responded in little more than a whisper. | His third year of university, James realised he could pause time. It was an accident; he didn’t notice time stopped until several hours later. If hours even exist when time does not, that is. It was a late night in March, and James sat at this desk with a fresh mug of coffee and a stack of math problems due at 8 in the morning. It would not be the first all nighter James pulled in his degree, and - despite his promises- he did not think it would be the last. James focused on his work, ignoring the tiredness biting into his concentration.
Hours later - although he could never be sure how many - James smiled at his finished assignment. Being both a chronic procrastinator and perfectionist left him exhausted on numerous occasions, but the pride in his final work left him satisfied. He tucked the stack of papers into his backpack and went to pour the quarter inch left of coffee down the sink. Before emptying the mug, he paused. The last bit of the bitter coffee was still steaming, as hot as when he first poured it. The clock flashed 11:24, only two minutes after he first started working. The hours he spent working simply slipped away, leaving James standing - overtired and confused- in the flat’s tiny kitchen on a Tuesday night.
Over the years, he honed his talent. The accidental time pauses stopped, and he could start the freeze on demand. In another life, James supposed, he could have been a great hero. He could stop time, dodge bullets, save the girl. Or he could have been a villain. There had been times when he was tempted to pause the clock and swipe cash from a wallet. James, however, was content to use his power for simple pleasure. He treasured the few extra minutes he gave himself in the morning to read the newspaper and sip his latte. Stopping in the park to sit in the fresh spring air and soak in the warm sun was the best part of his lunch hour. These small mercies were all James needed.
It was a cool day in late March - nearly five years to the day after James first stopped time - that he first saw The Woman. She slipped away, beyond his peripheral, before he saw her face. James didn’t know if she was real. Over the next two years she began to appear more frequently. Sometimes he would see her across the pond in the park, staring at him. Occasionally she would move, ducking into crowds or sliding behind buildings. At the start, James tried to approach the mysterious woman. But she always vanished as suddenly as she appeared; one minute standing there and staring, but the next she was gone. The Woman never left a trace. She didn’t exist in normal time. For the last six years she was a constant in James’ time pauses, always lurking. He rarely stopped the clock.
Sixteen years passed since James first stopped the clock. His dark hair was thinning and lines began to etch themselves onto his face. A simple gold band now wrapped around his finger, and a rosy cheeked toddler held his focus. He had not stopped time since the day his daughter was born. He needed a minute to take it all in and hold his baby without the noise of the hospital. The Woman had appeared, not ten feet in front of him. She was scowling, arms crossed and icy blue eyes staring at his daughter. He unpaused the moment and stepped back. Baby Lily wailed in his arms.
Seventeen years out now, and James had not stopped time in three. He was happy with his life, he told himself. He took in the moment when he could, but never dwelled longer than the natural clock. *After all*, he told himself, *I still have just as much time as anyone else*. It was a morning in July, and the heat of the day was already apparent. The grass was dewy and the birds chirped, but not a single breeze stirred the air. A trickle of sweat ran down the back of his shirt. James blotted his forehead with a tissue, cursing the lack of air on the crowded train, packed with grumbling commuters, all equally unhappy about going to work. The train swayed more than normal, James thought. Perhaps it was just his discomfort with the heat in the small car, but James could feel slight nausea bubble in his stomach.
A scream ripped through the cabin. The screech of grinding metal echoed around him. James was vaguely aware of the glass shattering behind him and the crunch of bone on his left. A sudden lurch sent him towards the opposite wall, where his shoulder took the brunt of the force. His head bounced against the metal frame, and his body slid to the ground. The world went quiet.
*I’m dead,* James thought. The ground was cool beneath him.
He frowned. His shoulder burned and his head pounded. A metallic taste filled his mouth, and his cut lip swelled against his teeth. *Maybe not dead, then.* He opened his eyes.
The train car was flipped on its side. The small crowd of commuters were suspended among shards of glass, spilled coffee, bags, chunks of metal. Droplets of blood hung in the air, some splattered against the sharp edges. A number of the passengers’ limbs were bent at sicking angles; one man’s jagged radius poking through the fabric of his suit.
Across the wreckage he could see something move. For a moment, James thought he had accidentally slipped back into normal time. He wasn’t ready to die. Against his swimming vision, the movement began to become clear; it was The Woman. *Of course*. This was the first time he welcomed her appearance. This time, she moved towards him, a purposeful stride towards him.
“I.. I thought we could avoid it this time,” her voice was clear and light. She swallowed, “I really *really* thought this would work.” James wasn’t sure if it was his head injury, or if her eyes were actually watery. “You thought so too,” she gave James a pained half smile, and reached to help him up. She pulled out a pack of gauze from the pocket of her leather jacket and held it to James’ head. “Not that you’d remember, though.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” James struggled to focus his attention, “but we need to help these people somehow. As soon as time restarts, we’ll all be dead.”
“I know, I know,” The Woman shook her head. “We’ll save *everyone* this time. We can still stop the rest of this. The rest of *everything* if we’re lucky. We’re in this together, Dad.”
---
Check out /r/liswrites if you want more mediocre stories! | 2017-02-02T13:36:10 | 2017-02-02T12:25:23 | 210 | 67 |
[WP] You are an elite member of the royal guard. You have recently been fired from your position because of the new king. Little does he know, there was a reason why the previous king kept you in his service for so long.
Edit: Holy crap this blew up! Thank you all! | The newly minted King Agralin stared at me, eyes red from Kastian ale. Half a goblet of that fine vintage stained the front of his doublet. I grimaced at the dreadful waste, my nose wrinkled at the scent; it had been a while, but my senses were slowly returning.
‘What are you doing here? I kicked you lot of wastrels out last morn!’ The rowdy carousing in the hall began to dissipate, as they stared at my audience with interest.
Fifty winters ago, it had taken me an evening to convince the Old King — I guessed he must have forgotten to tell his son about our agreement before he passed. I tossed an ancient vellum scroll on Agralin’s lap. If he wasn’t so drunk he might have realized that vellum didn’t usually come in such a dark shade of crimson.
Araglin took a quick glance at the scroll and sputtered in anger. ‘What’s this?’
‘My employment contract. Your father agreed to it, and declared that you will too.’ I felt my shoulder blades start to itch, as the long-dormant parts awoke.
‘Hah! Fifty thousand gold a year! The pick of the cellar and choice of dwelling? My father paid a guard all this? He was more senile than I thought!’ Agralin looked around for support as his retinue snickered along.
Agralin stabbed the contract with his pudgy finger. ‘Look, it even says so in your name No’gard! You’re no guard!’
Sycophantic laughter burst throughout the hall, I cringed at his weak pun. Fifteen years away at one of the most prestigious academies and this was the best he could do.
‘My father was too lenient, allowing lowborn a seat in this hall.’ Agralin waved. ‘Leave before I have you beaten and thrown out.’
The old King was never so unobservant, has no one realized that I had been at his Father’s side for fifty years and looked not a day older?
‘You might want to read the rest of the contract. It is crucial that you retain… my protection.’ I tried again.
Agralin’s eyes widened in disbelief. ‘Look around you! The finest knights in the land defend me!’
Cheers and shouts resounded through the hall. Barvar the Crusher, Astoni of the Dozen Daggers, and Grim’dar the Unwavering, yelled in agreement, banging their weapons on the banquet tables.
‘Who in the Seven Lairs, would I need *you* to guard me from?’
‘Me.’ I grinned with sharpened teeth.
‘My contract states that you would be protected from *me*.’
‘String him up! Teach this fool a lesson! He threatens the King himself!’ The sound of swords drawn reverberated throughout the hall.
The final change took only seconds as my body exploded in mass. My scales burst out and rippled through my skin as they interlocked in snickering metallic clicks. My talons extended from the tips of my hand, now the size of a horse. The banquet hall could hardly hold my true form and my sides pressed against the walls.
I think Barvar was now the Crushed, and Astoni a pin cushion. Grim’dar was on his knees, praying to an unknown god. Agralin’s trousers were now wet too, not from the ale.
‘Now,’ I breathed lightly, setting fire to the tapestries behind the throne, ‘let’s take a look at the contract again, shall we?’ | 'Ha! Keep you on the royal guard as the captain of it all as my father did! What a stupid and pitiful way of getting my command around here. Do yourself a favour and leave at once'
......
It had almost been a solid 7 years since I was thrown out of the leadership of the royal guard and out of the city of seraphis itself, along with my siblings, parents and my wife and children. After 32 years of my service, it was clear to see that the new king wasn't going to keep me around for the next few years, especially since he never could stand my presence since his childhood.
Gods how I miss the first king I served under, king Louis the II. Gods how I missed how I would feel the honour of fighting by his side when fending off the hated invaders of salkos, never surrendering to the thousands of blades, axes, spears and rifles that would be pointed right in our eyes. But I can't ponder on the past now, not now with what's happening.
....
The new king, Louis the III, had taken up the throne of his fallen father (by the gods' will, May he rest well) and struck with a storm of hatred alone amongst the people of his city: he would randomly banish any man, woman or beast that would dare challenge his authority, sending them all off to the wilds of dagear-ram for his own entertainment. My family was one of those who were unlucky enough to be banished due to my termination of the captain of the royal guard. Though I was expecting such from a 18 year old boy that didn't even think to have his father buried like a true king.
Shame for him I suppose. Just as he banished the last few innocents to the wilds of dagear-ram, the invaders of salkos' brother land, haru-ka-ku came in to take the throne themselves. The new king didn't even know what to do to even arbitrate with the invaders, let alone fight them. If only he kept me and listened to me, he would know his father's secret counter measures device...
The device in question was more strange thing that king Louis the II had made as a final resort if all else failed to defeat the invaders and defend the city: it happened to be a counter-measures, explosive device that relied heavily on science, magic and some sort of energy called 'radiation' or what ever the hell it was called. I wasn't one for the finer details of such a weapon.
The king of course didn't want the weapon to be misused and mass produced (for the safety of the natural world of course), so he trusted the only launch codes to the device with himself and his most trusted brother in arms and main advisor: myself. Shame that it will be completely created for nothing really.
......
Moving on from the past, however, I eventually gained trust and a new vocation in the next kingdom over, acting as the captain of the new royal guard for the beast empress, Alexandra the IV of the kingdom of Kalzerous, so I have no more time to dwell on a lost future of a king whose currently penned up in his castle like a frightened little barn pig. | 2021-02-28T04:13:58 | 2021-02-28T03:33:58 | 1,113 | 61 |
[WP] Whenever a zombie successfully eats a human brain they become a little more alive. The most dangerous zombies are all but indistinguishable from survivors | When recalling, only notions of life come to my almost mind, not memories of anything but motor motions of what must have been to be alive. To drink, and to work, and stare through a car window and be overcome by the white noise of the streets. All of that gone, now that I am dead and so are the cars.
The first one was Virginia, She had the voice of a haggard mouse when she begged for her life, shrieked and moaned like a lover who needs to be somewhere else at twelve, of someone who has something better to do than die. Then came Sylvia, Susan, etc... after a while I grew tired of naming them and, eventually, of eating them.
I considered men a few times, but the taste was not worth the struggle.
What did I struggle for when my heart beat? Whatever it was, it is certainly gone now, all that awaits is barren land. The more we eat, the more indistinguishable we are from the living. I have walked more than once among the presence of life while dead, previously to devour it but now to see that what I hungered for was not meat but lucidity. Having acquired it I only write this letter to let whoever reads it know: Lucidity is better enjoyed when finite. We the dead are too stubborn trying to adapt to a survivalist instinct we no longer need, acquiring thought no longer vital. Dead is calmer, so revolt with life by your side if you have some. | Zombies are reanimated corpses that have been brought back to life through a variety of means, such as radiation, disease, or magic. In popular culture, zombies are often depicted as mindless and ferocious creatures, driven by a relentless hunger for human flesh.
One common trait of zombies is their ability to become more "alive" after consuming the brains of their victims. This phenomenon, known as "brain gain," allows zombies to gain increased intelligence, strength, and speed. As a result, zombies who have eaten brains are generally more dangerous and difficult to defeat than those who have not.
One of the most dangerous types of zombies is known as the "undead survivor." These zombies are indistinguishable from ordinary survivors, as they have retained their human appearance and abilities. However, they are infected with the zombie virus, and will attack and infect others when given the opportunity.
The undead survivor is a particularly treacherous foe, as they are able to blend in with survivor groups and gain their trust. This makes them nearly impossible to identify and eliminate, making them one of the greatest threats to the survival of humanity. | 2022-12-06T23:20:12 | 2022-12-06T15:01:28 | 30 | 17 |
[WP] You are studying at a local coffee shop and leave your table briefly to get a refill. When you return, you notice a USB flash drive placed on your table. | Not this shit again.
I sigh as I set my cup of tea (earl grey, foamed milk, no sugar please) next to my laptop. The drive is pink, of all colors. Maybe they thought it would be more unassuming than black? I DON'T put it into my laptop, lord knows I don't feel like being interrogated for another three days. I learned my lesson after the first time. Instead I pack up my things, get in my car, and drive the two miles to the little blue bungalow on the edge of town.
My knock is greeted by a minute and a half of silence. I'm used to it. Finally, after several locks and bolts are undone on the other side of the door a face, a face so much like my own appears.
“Again?” she says, almost as exasperated as me.
“Again,” I repeat. She rolls her eyes and holds out her hand. I drop the drive into her outstretched fingers. “Good luck on this one,” I say with a mock salute. She searches my face for any sign that I know the contents of the drive, but apparently is satisfied with what she sees, because she nods in acknowledgment and closes the door. I walk back to my car and gun the engine. I don't need this. I have an anatomy final in two days.
Of all the cities in the whole world, my secret agent sister is stationed in mine. | Ok, so I'm really stupid.
Sticking random peripherals into my personal computer isn't something I do normally. I know the risks. This time though, it was just a whim.
I'm interested. What if it's some super secret document? What if it has nudes? I'm kinda facinated by this drive.
So when it starts opening a million windows and lagging my computer to hell, I know I've made a stupid mistake. I bang my head on the desk and people in the shop look at me like I'm nuts. Maybe I am. I just stuck an unidentified drive in my computer and now I've got a virus.
When I look up and reach for the power button though, I stop. Why?
The screen has normalised. Except for a single open window that says "Don't do that."
I put my coffee down. The screen shifts and changes.
"Sorry." It says. "This isn't the optimal interface for me."
I sit there looking baffled. The screen flicks off and on a few times.
"Umm, you'll have to talk for me to understand properly. I can only see you moving."
I shut the laptop in a hurry. I need to get this home. Now. | 2014-08-08T09:10:19 | 2014-08-08T07:32:27 | 18 | 10 |
[WP] Humans who have been summoned from their dimension always caused problems, reject magic, & don’t fit in society. None have been summoned in centuries. This was before Fantasy novels were popular. You summoned a modern human & disproved the age old adage that “Humans don’t make good familiars” | "So you see here, sir, this one has acclimated wonderfully. We have had no issues in the week we have met."
The Old Mage clicked his fingers together. The golden chains around his neck made a light tinkling sound as he shifted. His ruby red eyes appraised my familiar thoughtfully, the cogs inside his mind turning as he stared at her. She shifted uncomfortably.
"What is he thinking?" The Jessie whispered.
"I cannot tell." I whispered back.
The human brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, her hand trembling. My servants had done her hair this morning, braiding it with silver threads. She had been dressed in a silver robe hemmed and embroidered with gems I had conjured myself. Her hair was dark and her skin was unexpectedly pale and unblemished. The humans we had summoned in the past had skin that could be pockmarked from illness or streaked with dirt. But when asked about that the Jessie would look at me with a confused face. She did not go outside much, she told me. In the past week she had lived at my manor, she learned how to read and write in our alphabet, and read scroll after scroll of information. She had left my manor once - to come with me to speak to the Old Mage.
She pushed her glasses further up the bridge of her nose.
"You said the human hailed from...?" The Old Mage asked. His voice was whispery and quiet, almost imperceptible.
I looked toward her. "Ohio, in America." She said.
When I repeated that back to the Old Mage, he leaned back in his throne. Evidently he did not know where America was in their dimension. It mattered not.
"And you have had her for...?"
"A week, sir."
"Very well." He clasped his hands together. "I would like a progress report in another week. Please take her to our Spell Doctor daily to assess her health. Is she magic?"
"Not yet, sir."
The Old Mage nodded once more. "Please see me when she is. Dismissed."
When we exited the Old Mage's workshop, the Jessie seemed forlorn.
"What is the matter?" I asked. The hallway we were in was open to the wind. Birds swooped through windows over our heads. The air was filled with the scent of the nearby jasmyr trees.
"Um...this is really hard to say." She said. "But humans aren't magic. We can't do magic."
I laced a hand through hers. This was not the first familiar I had that I could speak to, but this was the first one that did not need me to teach them how to speak. "My dear, no species from your realm know magic. And yet, when we summon them here, we are able to bestow them and teach them magic. If you so choose, you will be my familiar on my magical endeavors and journeys. It...will be a painful journey. Magicians are scholars who are revered by the rest of society. But by many we can be shunned. Many of my adventures are quite exciting. But they can be scary, too.
"But," I continued, "many of the work that magicians do, we do with familiars from our realm. The odd Earth familiar we summon are typically more intelligent...but they are difficult to teach. Humans have not been summoned in centuries. I am..." I had to stop. My voice did not work well. "...I am so ecstatic to have summoned *you*, Jessie."
"What would have happened if I hadn't acclimated well?"
I could not reply.
"Can I go home?"
"If you want to."
I looked over at her. Her eyes were sparkling. She studied her nails, which she had bitten down to the pink bits. She took a deep breath in, and then turned to face me. Her mouth was a firm line.
"I don't want to." | 'Be careful, Whisper,' I heard the members of my tribe in the space around me.
I was of age. After hundred and twenty cycles of watching my cousins hunt and hearing my mother whisper the incantations I was finally allowed to make one.
The gentle breeze felt like a caress through my feathers and I unfurled my wings further to feel the blessings of the Early Winds.
The cycle had just begun on Saeri and felt like like all the voices of the Gods of old were whispering my name.
I dug my fingers into the soft clay of the soil, crimson sky above me reflecting in my eyes. I felt the power surging trough me but still, the warning was still present around my – the collective mind of my tribe that was never too far was urging me to look for a familiar worthy of our race.
I didn't want a phoenix or a star dove. I wanted a human.
My thoughts created a circle of light around me and before the stars disappeared from the crimson sky my familiar stood before me.
'Are you going to eat me?' The human said, his eyes bewildered.
I smiled a little. It seemed it was only a youngling, scrawny and pale with the strangest nest of hair on his head – red, like the sky in the dawn.
'No,' I said. 'You're my familiar now.'
He was looking at me through some sort of glass that was attached to his face.
'I know what's going on here,' his voice somehow didn't fit well with the rest of him. It was deep and singing and reminded me of Waters of Chaos on the far end of the land. 'Jeff disappeared not a month ago just like this and all because you...,' he glanced at my claws with repulsion, 'you people developed sudden interest in humans. There's nothing special about me. I'm the worst in my class, they had kicked me out from our baseball team because Coach says I'm a 'dropper'.' The human glanced at his hands with the same anger. 'And for the first four months of this extraordinary journey of my college days I've been invited to one single party. And we had to go home earlier because Jeff's parents came home before ten.'
I was staring at this being and the amount of misery it projected.
Humans haven't been used as familiars for ages.
One of the reasons was because most of them cannot be taught magic. There was the not so practical part where they were wingless and too slow, but from the other part they were one of the the few familiars that could communicate this effectively.
'What if I taught you a trick or two?' I crouched in front of the human being, my golden eyes taking it his fragile form. His heart was beating fast inside the rib cage but he stood his ground. I liked that. Father said humans were brave, though their instability was far more famous.
Even when I unfurled my wings the human kept his gaze straight.
'Do you know what a familiar is?' I asked.
He made a grimace and two rows of small, not very straight teeth showed. 'Dude, I read,' he said, moving those glass pieces closer to his face.
'So, we'll learn some magic?' I offered.
'Sure,' he said, looking around the wast field around us. 'Is there some place where I could charge my phone? My battery is almost dead.' He waved with a small thing in his hand.
'What is that?' I asked.
He showed his teeth again. 'Well, it's something like my book of spells.'
If you liked this, you can find more stories at r/CrystalElmTales | 2019-12-13T13:23:25 | 2019-12-13T13:09:56 | 250 | 76 |
[WP] Two people have just died. They both enter the same location in the afterlife. For one person, it is their personal heaven; for the other, it is hell. Describe their arrival and first "day" there. | They tell you to be a good person in life. Follow the rules, be well mannered, positive outlook and all that. Maybe that's enough. It seemed to be for *him*. To be honest, I don't know what I did to deserve this. I wasn't great by any measure, but by what cruel sense of humor was I given this punishment? Day in, day out, day in, day out. The. Exact. Same. Thing. Which wouldn't be half as bad if *he* weren't here too. I don't know how but he manages to revel in it. The monotony, the sameness, all of it. If I weren't already dead I would kill myself.
Not that it would do any good. I thought the afterlife was supposed to be *different*, but if it weren't for the small things you would never know the difference. The front door skips the walk and puts me at home in my room. The customers are all just a hair too nice. Every order is the same. Any opportunity for even mild variation has been stripped from the routine. I would do anything to end it, anything at all. But even now, I feel it, the compulsion that drives me to get out of bed every morning. I brush my teeth, put on the uniform, and walk to the door. I desperately want to avoid walking in and seeing *him* but I know there's nothing I can do. My limbs don't obey me, I am trapped in my own body. Oh no. There's the door. I treasure my last moment before...
.
.
.
*"Good morning squidward!"* | When he saw the sign he spit cheeto dust everywhere. As he approached the door an elder man stood there apparently mystified. The man turned around as he approached.
"Mr. Shatner" he said kneeling in salute "Please allow me to escort you inside."
"But.. but.. but.. " the elder man stammered. "I'm a good person. I've always tried to help people to make the world a better place. I don't understand."
The entered the door into a room. The lights were dim and there was a musk that neither could accurately place. In front of them were two terminals. He approached one of the terminals leaving the elder man still shell shocked. His squeal of delight shocked the other man to his sense. He too approached a terminal. It seemed normal and yet the sign on the door seemed to indicate the worst. He tried a simple search.
404 Error. Not Found.
He tried his personal page.
404 Error. Not Found.
He tried the news
404 Error. Not Found.
With a reluctant sigh he tried the one query he knew would work. The one the younger man was already so gleefully lost in. The one URL he knew would work. The one printed on the door. The one he dreaded above all.
Welcome to Reddit After Life /u/williamshatner
| 2015-01-04T15:07:40 | 2015-01-04T15:01:47 | 89 | 17 |
[WP] The internet can now connect to millions of alternate realities! After finding out about this your phone buzzes, and when you check to see it, you’ve been invited into a group chat of other versions of yourself! | I just so happened to be reading a news article about the discovery of alternate realities when I received an invitation to a group chat. I took a look at the invitation, which had been titled _'Multiple Reality Gabe Discord uwu'_, and accepted. I'm sure a talk with a couple other versions of myself would definitely spice up what would otherwise be a boring Saturday morning.
The first message I saw after joining was-
_"Yoooo, 167 is here •o•"_
It was immediately followed by several messages of greetings, from people who's names consisted of only numbers. A user who's name was in yellow, presumably the creator, promptly spoke up.
_"Hey Gabe, read the news lately?"_
I typed out a response. _"Yep. To think that I'd be able to talk to myself from alternate universes. Crazy huh?"_
_"It's the pinnacle of loneliness lmao"_, A snarky version of myself named 98 said.
Once again, the me with the yellow username sent another message. _"First off, we need some info to identify ya. Should be stuff you already know."_
_"Yeah sure."_
_"Okay, what's your phone number?"_
_"Don't bother to check"_
_"Correct. Two, what's your name?"_
_"Gabriel Fritz."_
_"So you have Moms' last name instead of Dad's, huh? Anyway, what's your gender?"_
That question perplexed me a little bit. Wouldn't they know if they were me?
_"Male, why do you ask?"_
_"See, in other alternate universes, a different cell reached the womb first, and we turn out a bit different depending on the universe. That means gender can change too."_
_"Yeah cool, but that doesn't answer me's question, lol"_ Another parallel version named 45 inputed.
_"Fine. You see, ya know when you're like 'I wonder what I'd look like if I was a girl/boy?. Would I be hot?'. I think that a lot, and I'm sure you do too."_
Instantly, the chat was flooded with a single message; _"same"_. A classic me thing to do.
_"So, you know what I'm thinking?"_
_"If it starts with 'send' and ends with 'nudes', yes I am."_
_"Uh guys, before we do this, isn't it sorta weird that we're basically gonna be jacking off to ourselves?"_
_"Just think of it as masturbation, and not as a weird multiple reality incest, and we're good."_ | Me! Yeah, I am one of those who have a habit of creating their own WhatsApp group just to post in todo lists and notes. But 255 members? How can there be so many members in the group? I remember, I did add my other contact someday, to have a sync between two phones, but 1+1 is 2, not 255 in any math. Even if I put every contact of mine in the same place, I cant reach such number. I don't even know this many people.
As I opened the group chat. Everybody was writing welcome C-137. Now, who is this C-137? I opened the group member list to know more. Strange enough, everything was such usernames, and C-137 was what was written in front of me. As if it's not enough to lose my shit already that I received a personal message from someone named A-007. "Just wait a minute why are all name so fucked up! And why don't I get to choose a cool number as 007" I murmured as I rolled my Eye across the text? It read, "You might be confused what's going on... Relax you will get used to it... The multiverse exists, but not as many as pop culture sci-fi's suggest. God used only 8 bit's to encode the multiverse, and this is all you from 256 different multiverses. Sad enough 1 alternative of you already died."
Panicked, Freaked or whatsoever you might say I started recollecting if I had drugs last night. I did have a little cannabis, but for a seasoned guy like me, it's never enough to trip to this extent. One strange thing I recollect is reading an article on the 4chan forum of multiverse conspiracy, with a link to a site to a site to a site which said, "Do you really wanna open up to the possibilities?" I don't recollect anything more after the click. It's like the next thing I know is I wake up on my bad with these many messages from some random group saying its all me.
I opened the group and replied back. Hi, there I am new to this could any of me show me how it works... Let's explore what it turns out...! | 2019-09-06T00:59:38 | 2019-09-06T00:19:04 | 161 | 17 |
[WP] A genie comes out of the wallet you just found, and hands you a 20 sided die. "Thank you for finding my lost wallet. I grant you a roll on the random reward table." You roll a 1. | The genie bellows with laughter. His tail (if you can really call it that) looks like play-dough when kids morph it into a carrot, rolling about on the floor with the rest of him.
'So what is my reward?'
I wait as the genie's mockery dies down and he catches his breath (I wonder if he even breathes, or if its just a part of his performance). He flies between my legs and circles above my head, stopping just in front of my face before wincing. 'Your breath smells like the armpit of the great Djinn' he says, whatever that means.
He hands me some conjured Listerine and waits as I reluctantly swish, gargle, and spit.
Then he nods towards the woman I don't yet know will be my wife and winks. 'Sometimes it's the little things'.
Maybe he faded away like dust then; I no longer payed any attention to the little magical fucker or anything else as my heartbeat rose and I opened my mouth to introduce myself. | "Oh You're in quite the unlucky one today", The genie leaned back and coiled his fingers together. But don't fret there is still a prize for such a soul. The genie ruffles in the folds of his wallet and pulls a blank card. "I give you this punch card. With this you have 5 punches to bend the odds ever in your favor when you desire it. Believe in your mind that the chips will fall and they shall." "But this gift has a cost", leaning in with a menacing smirk, "after that last punch, Quite the unlucky cost. You look at the card and the first punch has been made and a small genie icon is above the punch. | 2021-07-30T11:14:17 | 2021-07-30T09:12:39 | 24 | 15 |
[WP] Aliens have realized humans advance more quickly during times of conflict, and have tried to push humanity into wars to see what happens. However, that changes when they start WW2 and humans harness the power of the atom. | \--Initiating boot sequence--
\--Loading Instance: 'Earth, Year 11,945.597'---
The display flickered to life around him. Bodies lay strewn around the battlefields, scorched husks of blown-out tanks lay abandoned.
"Estimated agent loss?"
Over the battlefields, millions of tiny motes of light lifted from the bodies, coalescing into a string of digits.
\--49,875,308 dead agents--
Y'xyl frowned. Was this ethical? As the rate of progress enhanced, these beings were edging closer to the galactic standard for sentient rights. The implications of this had never been covered in the ethics review- It was never expected to be this successful. All previous study iterations had produced crude metal tools at best. Y'xyl, however, was a savant. The manipulation of conflict as a variable appeared to accelerate rates of progress within the species at.
Outside his headset a different voice reminded him of the real world before he got too lost in though.
"Hey Y'xy, how's the science project going?"
"Galstandard tech level 0.864"
"Dude, you're missing your leading zeroes. I can't get mine above a .01 either, lemme check your outpu- WHAT THE XEM, MAN? I'm sitting here worried about a failing grade, and you've outpaced the global record by 2 orders of magnitude?!?"
Y'xyl chuckled. Just wait until he sees the next step. Technology spike predictions indicate the next advancement was due any minute now. The aerial delivery mechanism was over the target.
\--Galstandard tech level 0.865--
What? Just a .001 increase? That's nothing! All indicators had pointed to a major spike.
The metal casing dropped towards the target.
.
..
...
..
.
\--Initiating boot sequence--
\--Unplanned reboot detected, re-instantiating last known instance--
\--Loading Instance: 'Earth, Year 11,945.598'--
White light flooded the display. Y'xyl's filters crystallised over his photosensors until he could see again. He zoomed in on the image until he was looking at base code. The atomic bits flickered and shattered, fragments impacting other atoms. A chain reaction.
\--Galstandard tech level 2.04--
They'd broken the atom. The fundamental atomic bits upon which Tz'lrni computation was founded. They'd broken the fundamental code of the simulation into *smaller* parts.
For a moment, Y'xyl frowned at the ethical implications, but that thought was quickly overtaken.
He was going to be rich. | There was a quiet chaos inside the Andromeda Chamber at Milky Way Center at the 1945 Emergency Session of the Intergalactic Community of Democratic States' General Convention. Several thousand delegates shuffled their papers uneasily and drummed their fingers as the low rumbling murmur of the diplomats conversing with each other in over twenty intergalactically recognized languages filled the cathedral-like room. The giant screens suspended above the crowd all projected the same image of an empty podium with the ICDS seal affixed to the front. It had been forty minutes since the giant screens had flickered to life, and the delegates, translators, and various members of the media were beginning to lose their patience. Most of them were still star-lagged and sleep deprived from having rushed to catch the first available ship to Milky Way Center, and few of them knew what would be awaiting them upon their arrival. It was an absolutely unprecedented meeting, and back in the chamber, the collective mood of the room seemed to be a few minutes away from outright hysterics. It was nearly time for the Secretariat to speak.
The Secretariat had kept to himself for most of the day before the speech. Despite frequent attempts to receive input on the speechwriters’ final drafts, the Secretariat would only agree to a brief breakfast meeting and some quick Telenotes sent in response to the increasingly desperate communications sent to his hotel room by his team. He was keeping himself isolated for their sake: it was unlikely that any staff members were comforted by *his* utterly dumbstruck reaction to the news when it arrived via an emergency Telenote two days ago. And although he had been able to project a cooler demeanor in the days since the news arrived, the morning of the speech he found that he was no longer able to project the same elder-statesmanlike calm that had usually comforted his staff in times of crises. The news was finally beginning to seem real to him. The news that a participant population on the planet Earth, one of the ICDS’s largest and hitherto most successful case studies in the Planetary Progress Labs Initiative, had developed the technical capabilities to kill hundreds of thousands of their own in an instant. It was only a matter of hours before the Intergalactic Community would have to act, and no one, not even the Secretariat, had the slightest idea of what to do. | 2018-11-27T15:55:08 | 2018-11-27T13:18:10 | 144 | 65 |
[WP] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy. Not due to superior strength,speed,skill or strategy. In fact, it's because in comparison to the other species, humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with. | "Field medic? Why are we humouring the new prospect anyway? We have body labs." Muttered Zelska. Zelska was what the humans would call "A fucking idiot." Jorax reflected.
"Well," Jorax began "Aahii are the greatest builders and engineers in the universe,right?"
"Of course!" Snapped Zelska.
"But, Aahii don't repair anything, ever. The idea that they could craft something that does. Not. Work. Is impossible to contemplate...Humans make trash, they are ugly and backwards, lumbering idiots with no understanding of design or even the principles upon which all great devices work. You've seen it though, heard rumours of humans re-purposing derelict Aahii craft. Making gateways out of purifiers! Human engineers get you home when the gods spit upon your fate and shatter your drive..."
Zelska cut him off, near frothing with impatient rage "We all know the importance of a human engineer on staff, but why do we need this bloody medic!"
Jorax shifts his tunic, revealing a jagged mess of scarring.A near impossible amount of his lower abdomen missing. "It's not just ships a human can hold together when the gods turn their back on you..."
| One by one the stars went out. Earth's scientists looked on in horror and confusion as they vanished. They hadn't burnt out, nor had they gone supernova, they just were no longer there.
It was quick, especially by astronomical speeds. After just a year, the entire southern hemisphere was without starlight and just one year later, every telescope was trained on the north star, the last star, as it too was snuffed out.
Within moments though, every single one of them returned. Every twinkling little light, right back where it belonged.
----
"Steady"
"Steady...."
"Alright we're done."
As the final plate sank into place, the two pilots breathed a heavy sigh of relief. A pair of engineers were wiring up the final systems, and then the largest wall the galaxy had ever seen would be complete.
Just then a small *plink* was heard from the other side of the wall. No one dared suggest opening it back up to find the source of the noise though.
---
"Voyager 1 has stopped transmitting" | 2017-03-06T01:01:31 | 2017-03-06T00:52:02 | 379 | 62 |
[WP] "And that, class," concluded the professor, "is why humanity is the most peaceful, reasonable, cooperative, and overall docile species in all the universe. Any questions?" You, the only human in the classroom, raise your hand. | Professor Henzal was taken aback. "Yes, Eduard?"
"Professor, I have to take issue with your characterization."
"Oh, how so?"
"Once again, you're romanticizing my species. But I get it. We did... we used to do it too. That was before we ended up being conquered and largely wiped out ourselves. We weren't terrible in every regard, but we could be fairly brutal. Only after we nearly annihilated an indi... a less advanced civilization would we come to appreciate its scant survivors -- at least some people did."
The professor paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. "Eduard, I understand what you're trying to do. But just to be clear, it's not me saying that humanity is the most peaceful, reasonable, cooperative, and overall docile species in the galaxy. That's the consensus opinion of the Galactic Academy of Anthropological Studies. Within the context and level of development of humanity, it's understanda..."
Eduard interrupted.
"The Academy is just wrong. See, we're not a whole lot different to you or to anyone else in this classroom. Granted, your species has a lot to answer for too."
An audible gasp could be heard from the other students. "Professor, could we move on? The human is getting on my nerves," said Penzet, a student who, like half the classroom, was from Arcapia, the planet where the expedition that discovered Earth 160 years ago originated.
Eduard abruptly got up from his chair and pointed his finger at Penzet. "Like I've told you before, my name is Eduard, you arrogant and racist ass."
Penzet turned toward professor Henzal. "Professor, maybe he's right. They are not so peaceful." | Sighing the professor answers yet another one of my requests, begrudgingly asking me, "Yes, Madeline, what now?" "Professor, have you ever actually met a human" you say trying not to reveal your true identity, hoping that my classmates are oblivious. "Why, of course not, they were wrongfully murdered by the Acodiles, this is basic history, if you don't know that then I don't think that you should BE in college" he replied snarkily, hoping to get one on me for once in his pitiful existence. "Well I do sir, but didn't they destroy their entire planet despite clear warnings, did they not wage useless wars all to prove one nations superiority, did they not murder their own species to prove a point casually and fail to carry out justice for those wrongfully killed" SIT DOWN Ms. Doris! Right this instant!" But sir-" "Stop it right now!" "No professor, you stop spreading these lies, they were a cruel, sadistic species who were unnecesarily violent to their own kind and you and I both know that they were NOT killed by the Acodiles, they were the scapegoat, yet you choose to naively follow the propaganda fed to you, knowing that the people you love so much commited genocide, but at least they were deserving, Huh. So that the murderous soldiers wouldn't feel so bad about mass murder. Stop spreading these lies" you say storming out of your classroom, not wanting to deal with your professor's lecture and students hateful glares. | 2021-11-27T13:02:16 | 2021-11-27T12:45:35 | 61 | 22 |
[WP] Death approaches you and informs you that you have 57 minutes left and that he came early to see it all go down. | "All go down?" I ask.
Death looks at me, I think. "Yes."
I have terminal cancer. I thought I had a couple more days, but, if this is the end, this is the end. My kids couldn't be here. I told them I had a few more days. I didn't really like a father anyway until recently. I suppose this is a fitting end, lying in bed instead of killing bad guys or terrorists. That was the past, but the future was lonely.
I find the strength to sit. I run my hands over my bald head. Sixty-two is too fucking young. I put in my hearing aids. Shit hearing from years of gun fire. There's a commotion in the hall. They sound young. No respect, not that we had any anyway.
Death is still by my bedside. It's only been two minutes. It's like slow motion. The past three decades have fucking flown by, but my death feels like an eternity. Men burst into the room, brandishing AK-47s. Fifty-four minutes left, they rip out my IV and pick me up. They carry me to the roof, all with Death in tow. A helicopter waits, and this doesn't look like some kind of experimental procedure.
"Where are you taking me?"
"To the boss."
The whirls of the helicopter drown out as I pull my hearing aids. There are four of them. Death came for a show, I'm not getting what it is. Maybe an execution. I suppose it's fitting. The helicopter lands with only 19 minutes to go.
The man who greets me says his name, but I can't make it out. It can't be right anyway. I don't recognized him. He sounds Russian. He keeps talking, and I keep looking around. I put my hand up to my ear to listen.
"Muh, muh, muh."
They've come a long way for revenge against a dying agent that no one much liked anyway. I do a quick count, 14 of them, and 12 minutes to go. They lead me to the deck of the ship. It is big. I can barely walk the entire distance.
A few of my guards are careless with their knifes and handguns. One even has grenades with pins ready to be pulled. Amateurs, so this is what Death wanted to see. I grab a knife and stab into the guy next to me and push him overboard. I grab his AK before he falls. I fire into the rest of my guards and grab grenades. I toss two at two small groups, but keep a grenade or five for myself. What was 14 men is now 8. I grab another AK and rip through three more guys. My chest heaves. I drop the AK and grab anything I can. The last five guys fire at me, but I know something they don't. They just entered the Danger Zone.
I finish them off quickly with a minute to spare using knives, .45, and an oar. My back writhes in pain and my stomach bleeds in a split second. Then, another blast and sting of pain and another. I drop to the ground. Death laughs at me. I turn to see who it is.
"Of course, Barry Dillon. Or is Dylan? I don't know how to spell it."
"Sterling Archer. I thought I'd never get you. I thought cancer might beat me to it."
"I have something for you."
Archer attempts to give the cyborg his grenade pin, but Barry grabs the grenade and throws it away. Archer laughs. He drops five grenades on the deck and holds onto the pins.
"Shit."
"I'm coming Luke, I'm coming."
Death laughs. "Phrasing!"
***
If you liked this, I have more stories at my subreddit: r/nickkuvaas | "So you came....early to see just how it would happen?" I grunted forcing one hand over the other as I climbed the cliff face. The damn thing seemed to go on for a mile and it leaked an oozing, black, acidic substance. Every time I placed my hands and feet the skin bubbled away with excruciating pain but my wounds still healed like they always had, leaving fresh new skin each time.
"Of course I did." Said the figure beside me, standing perfectly erect, hands behind his back although he floated over empty air. Death had traded in his black cloak centuries ago and decided to keep up with the times. Instead, he wore a perfectly tailored black suit with a red tie, his dark hair slicked back like the perfect gentleman. Even the waves of sulfur coming from the boiling river below us didn't disrupt his calm demeanor. Nor did it remove the smile that played on his face that had been there since he showed up minutes ago.
"In 57 minutes you will die." He had said while I was still near the bottom of the cliff. I had ignored him until now. Making mental notes in my head as I wondered if that would be enough time and what would happen. It would have to be enough. I had come too far.
"I've even got someone else collecting souls around the world right now. Just so I could join you Roderick. Finally I can collect your soul after all these years. That I will get to see you die is only a bonus."
"Hope you choke on it." I muttered. Never stopping my rapid ascent even though the air here was burning my lungs and barely providing usable oxygen. If I could just make it to the top I should be within reach....
"I'll savor it actually. You're an abomination Roderick and you always have been. You think I don't know what you've come here for? There's nothing you can do for her. Even if I can't touch you until your death I've made sure you won't ever be reunited with her again. An old friend will be waiting for you at the top."
I froze for only a moment but it was enough to earn an evil chuckle from the entity beside me. *It couldn't be.* I thought. I had taken all the right measures to make sure he wouldn't come back. Done things that still left me feeling disgusted when they crawled through my mind. "That's not....possible." I panted and made the mistake of turning to look directly at Death.
In his eyes sat the void. A terrible chilling emptiness flowed directly from the black pits of his eyes. The only light coming from the white pinpoints of souls floating in the vortex. Without realizing it I had lost precious minutes. I redoubled my efforts but not before seeing the cigar materialize in Death's hand as he took a puff and blew it towards me, smelling like a cemetery.
"Guess you'll be finding out soon enough won't you." He taunted.
As I gripped for my next handhold I realized I had reached the top but I hesitated. Sephora still waited for me but it had been years since I had seen the man I was forced to kill. The man who would have also lived for thousands of years if not for the ancient blade I shoved through his heart. The man who wore the same face as me.
The words that greeted me as my head crested the top of the cliff nearly froze me on the spot. "Hail. Brother." In the background Death's laughter echoed in my ears. The minutes until my life ended still counting down. | 2015-12-01T18:24:38 | 2015-12-01T18:08:36 | 53 | 10 |
[WP] you have the ability to freeze time, you use this unlimited time to do whatever you want, but one day something else is moving even though time is currently frozen. | I carefully placed the head of our HR rep firmly between the butt cheeks of the sweatiest person in the office. I rubbed it around a couple of times, cleaned everybody up, placed them back where they belong and unfroze time.
I sat there snickering at my desk as the HR rep looked around asking if anyone else could 'taste that' in the air. I had to excuse myself before I started laughing too hard.
The day was always boring no matter how long I paused time. I had a creed where I wouldn't steal or perform any serious crimes. So I was stuck with a boring office job to make ends meet. It was coming up to lunch and I planned to take a good few hours just waltzing around concocting more office shenanigans.
I paused time and walked out into the square outside my office building. Walking among the frozen frenzy of people was always strange. I never got used to people just frozen there mid-whatever-they-were-up-to. As I walked I started to hear an echo on my footsteps. I stopped walking but the sound of shoes hitting pavement still persisted.
I concentrated hard trying to locate where the sound was coming from. The steps seemed frantic, like the person was in a panic. Then I heard a shout.
"HELP! HELP! PLEASE!" A young woman was barrelling towards me.
"How the..." I whispered to myself as the woman crashed into me.
"Please mister, help! This has been happening for years and I'm finally not alone! Oh my goodness this is incredible!" The woman gripped at my shirt, a mix of pure terror and joy in her eyes.
"Whoa, whoa. Hold on calm down. How... uhh what were you doing?" I asked completely flabbergasted that this woman could move during the time I chose to freeze.
"I don't know but this happens every damn day! Like clockwork! Well... it's a bit erratic on the weekends but that's irrelevant. I thought I was going crazy! People won't believe me when I tell them. But then I saw you walking! Oh I was so happy. Wait... you're real right?" The woman backed up a step to examine me.
"Yes I'm real!" I exclaimed to her.
This made the woman beam with happiness and my stomach started began to turn.
*How long have I been ruining this woman's life? She said this happens like clockwork so she knows my schedule.... Damnit what do I say?!*
I smiled back at the woman and extended my hand towards her.
"Uhm, I don't know what's going but do you wanna maybe go get a coffee and try and figure this out?" I asked her.
She looked a little skeptical but took my hand quite hastily none the less.
"Alright... But I'll tell you right now this has been happening for years and I've never found a way to make it stop. It just kind of happens on a whim." She warned me cautiously.
"That's alright, I'm sure together we might be able to figure something out. And it sounds like you might have a lot of theories." I started leading us toward my favourite spot for lunch.
"Well you got that right." She replied.
I needed to know if I could trust this woman and my favourite spot to eat overlooked the beautiful Pacific Ocean. A wonderful place to say, oh I don't know, get rid of a body.
I was contemplating breaking my creed.
***
MURDER... maybe? I hope you liked it! other stories at r/TheYogiBearhaWrites | If you give a boy the ability to stop time, you have to set some rules. Without rules, there's only chaos. Abuse of power. There's robbery and innocent debauchery. Missing pencils from the teacher's desk, the rearranging of furniture when a person is crouched mid-sit, and the pantsing of confused friends in hallways. With a seemingly unlimited, though untested, ability to pause the flow of time and toy with the world as he pleased, and without rules to guide him, Maxwell caused only trouble.
His sneakers squealed angrily as their rubber soles skidded against the floor, glowing reflections of ceiling lights passing under his feet while he turned and began running down the cluttered aisle. He passed the canned foods. The beans, the soups. In seconds, he'd reached the dried pasta. Having been to the store with his mother, who was frozen browsing yogurts several aisles back, on a nearly weekly basis, Maxwell was familiar with the layout and had little difficulty avoiding the displays as he maintained his fast pace.
"Even if you get out, we'll find you," a tinny voice boomed over the supermarket P.A. system.
Chest heaving with each breath, he grasped onto a metal shelf and came to a quick stop. A jar of pasta sauce toppled from its spot, lined up like a solider on the battlefield, and clattered against the ground. The glass scattered, hiding atop the white speckled tiles. To mark the spot where the jar had collided with the floor, a large puddle of red sauce remained. Maxwell's pants and shoes, even the bottom of his shirt and his arms, were marked by little splotches of traditional marinara with Italian herbs. Only a small ring of jagged glass was connected to the metal lid, which rolled toward his messy sneaker. Instinctively, he picked it up and began running once again.
The speaker system clicked on. "There are rules, Maxwell. This power isn't free of responsibility."
"Leave me alone!" He shouted, planting his feet and holding the broken glass out aggressively. "I'll start time again if you don't."
A long row of refrigerated meat played observer to his fighting stance, his threat was met with silence. Still catching his breath, Maxwell waited. After several long moments, three men in white suits, bald and angelic in their grace, turned into the aisle, blocking his view of the big red 'bulk meat' sale sign.
"I'll do it," he insisted.
"Go ahead and try." Maxwell jolted with fear and turned toward the voice.
While he considered himself fortunate to see only one man approaching him from the other side of the aisle, Maxwell was still terrified. His heart pounded rapidly in his chest. In his hand, the sharp ring of glass shook. Closing his eyes and willing time to start, something he'd been capable of in the past, he prepared himself to begin running again. When he opened his eyes, fingers releasing the lid from the broken jar of pasta sauce, Maxwell was distraught to discover that the busy shoppers were still frozen.
"What a shame," the man said. He smiled and took several steps toward the boy, stopping just before reaching the light smattering of sauce dispersed when the lid had fallen. "It's time you learn the rules, Max."
--------------------------
To be continued if I have the time. | 2018-01-11T11:33:08 | 2018-01-11T11:00:12 | 210 | 44 |
[WP]A plague kills 99.99% of human life, leaving no corpses and few immune survivors. In this desolate new world, there's no shortage of anything, and the greatest resource of all is human companionship. A survivor recounts his story of how he found his current group, years later. | It happened so fast I could have sworn it was a dream. I awoke to a new world, one where I was king, one where I no longer had loved ones to fear losing, in my own death or theirs. After months of lavish living, my notion that I was the last man on Earth began to fall apart.
I didn't find direct evidence of other survivors at first, no, I noticed subtle things, things that wouldn't have appeared for some time after It happened. I left my small suburb after cleaning out most of the food and liquor stores, and decided to head for the nearby small city, not without rummaging through some houses along the way however.
I didn't know what to make of it at first. A few seconds passed and then it dawned on me, "Oh, somebody beat me to this one." I turned to leave and froze, standing still for a few moments before sprinting to the next house on the road. The inside was exactly the same: everything torn apart, raided, looted. After checking the next few dozen houses with the same result, the conclusion that there were others in this world, scavenging just the same as me, was undeniable.
I knew if the others still survived there would not be many. I knew if the others still survived I would not rest until I found them. I knew that my own survival depended on theirs.
I recall nothing after that realization. Nothing until I saw him standing on the hill, staring back at me. My search for the others was a dream I could almost remember. I awoke into a new world, one where I was not king, one where I now had others to fear losing. And life was beautiful once again. | "Well, it was really luck" Jack mumbled. He stared into the fire, knees to his bent chest.
" There were a lot of times when I thought I'd never find another person. I was just a young man when it hit. I didn't know too much. I think I was about sixteen." Christie, Jacks wife, listened carefully to him as he didn't talk much of when he was in his own.
" I thought about killing myself a lot. But I was a good Christian boy. I never could go through with it" The rest of the group understood in the back of their minds. Jack let his legs sprawl out in front of him and held himself upright with arms leaning back.
" There's no such thing as an atheist in foxhole. I know it don't make no sense, but you worry less about makin sense and more about peace. You worry more about makin peace, ya know." He repeated his point.
" My First few years were bad, real bad. I found jesus then." A little girl who over heard Jack mumbling to the fire spoke up. "Then why would God do this to us? You can't believe in something so evil." The mother to her left said her name in a disappointed tone. She pulled back down to the log stump where she sat. Jack wasn't phased by this. She had a point. " Truth is, God doesn't play favorites. He just loves you." Jack had a lump in his throat admitting it. " That's all I really wanted." | 2014-12-25T21:22:45 | 2014-12-25T19:22:45 | 22 | 12 |
[WP] Humans are actually the most peaceful, kind race in the universe and other aliens don't invade us because its cute to watch. | “It just doesn’t make sense. They have superior resources, superior weaponry. They could totally destroy the enemy and all their numbers. Why do they hold back? Are they simply using the enemy for training?”
“They aren’t.” Dra shook his tiny domed head. “This is as forceful as they have chosen to be. They hold back on purpose.”
“But why?”
“According to their morals, killing combatants is allowed, but killing too many non combatants would be unacceptable.”
“Unacceptable to whom?”
“To others. Those within their nation. Those without.”
“So they kill the enemy just a little bit? What’s the endgame? The enemy will continue to fight forever.”
“They hope to drain the fight out of the enemy, secure objectives, take control. Ultimately, they want to become friends with the enemy’s new leaders.”
“But the enemy will still be there! Lying in wait. Hiding and striking. Always coming out from the shadows.” Ird let his bodyblades extend in irritation. “That is why you must end the enemy. Even my terty knows this! Their current strategy will lead to neverending struggle. The children of the enemy, those harmed by the war, will strike back constantly. This strategy leads to both sides bleeding forever.”
“That seems to be their way now.”
“Krech tie neeg on their morals,” said Ird, allowing a dark green fluid to leak from his slit.
“Has our way led to anything different? Our Oun ended all other Ouns many orbits ago, but still conflict arises from within. Is it so much better? Conflict is the way of the universe. It cannot ever end.”
“Still, this is nonsense. Do I stab an enemy with one move and heal him with the next? When an enemy is revealed, you must end him so that there can be peace until the next enemy arrives. Why be in constant conflict?”
“They hold life dear.”
At this Ird’s upper muscles spasmed. “You cannot be serious.”
| "Well shit." It was a normal day in the live of what a human would describe a monster. Ofcourse this monster, was only an Alien surfing the Human Earth Archive that had been recovered from the ashes of Earth that he had destroyed only seconds before. He had misunderstood the meaning of the Human's message. One of his translators had jokingy said that humans send a message with the text: "come at me bro" ofcourse joking about a earth stereotype of challenging someone for some odd reason, which was verry funny and cute in the eyes of these monsters.
The monster which was by an ofchance called Zapzodobido, not to confuse with THE Zapzodobido! which was a famous actor starring in movie like: Undead guardian of the living Zopdodas" and the allmight and famous television show called: "Mister Y'badaro da Sexrola, I guess" reaching milions in views on the Intergalactic web of United Galaxy nations which had recently merged with the web for Magnificent beings and Demigod's.
Zapzodobido had realised his mistake. He destroyed the race of the adorable humans. The race that only recently established Intergalactic contact and now were destroyed by the Sporuns, green gobbly monsters which only showered once in 2 weeks! And all of this because some idiot had made a stupid joke.
Zapzodobido could already imagine himself inside the court of galactic justice.
Zapzodobido was browsing the Human Earth Archive, until he noticed a small fluffy being dancing to music. Named by humans as "Cats" He was disturbed.
It was after this moment. That Zapzodobido said:
"Well shit, this is were grandpa has been all this time"
And no one ever knew what the heck he was talking about.
| 2016-09-28T05:34:35 | 2016-09-28T03:38:00 | 124 | 14 |
[WP] You are a vet at an animal shelter. Everytime a cat was about to be put down, you secretly release it. You are caught and fired, costing you everything. In your darkest hour, a strange woman knocks on your door. She introduces herself as Bastet and claims she is here to make things right. | People fucking suck.
It was the "Christmas clear out" and it was the 5th perfectly healthy oldie to be brought into the practice. Usual sketch, owners think they "won't make it" and just want rid of a lifelong companion. I could never do it though.
Of course, the customer is "always right" so I couldn't refuse. Instead, I'd use anaesthetic, sneak them out the back of the incinerator, and take the day's rejects home. I didn't originally want to be a crazy cat guy, but I just couldn't let these poor things down. I'd release them at my cottage and, if they wanted they could stick around.
Anywho, comes to pass that last month the head vet was outside having a smoke and spotted me coming out of the oven with a bag. I don't think she understood, just thought I was a fucking wierdo taking dead cats home and fired me on the spot.
Now Vet training isn't cheap. And I hadn't been in the career long, so no savings, no pension, and a fuckton of debt. The house went, the car went. I couch surfed until people couldn't put up with me anymore. Until one Tuesday I was preparing for another night in the underpass, when She appeared. I offered my usual without looking up:
"Spare some change?"
I felt rather than saw her stop, but something in her voice lifted my gaze.
"My boy, for you, I can spare a change"
I gasped. Hair black as night. Eyes golden and slitted. A slender, tall woman parcelled up in a black parka. I could only gawp.
"It took a lot of courage to do what you did for my brothers and sisters. My power wanes in this modern world, but I will use some of what little I have left to do what little I can for you, cat-friend."
Her pupils expanded, and she squatted. Her nose lengthened and darkened. She hunched forwards and became lost in her parka. Before I knew it, all there was was a small wriggle under the cloth, and lifting it, I found a small, purring black cat. It head-bumped me then licked my nose. And then was gone.
Now I thought I was tripping balls due to hunger or something rotten I'd scavenged, so settled down in my grotty sleeping bag to try and rest, when the purring came back. And in the little black cat's mouth was a sandwich. I heard a voice in my head say "call me Bastet"
Now I'm still homeless. But I sleep much better nowadays with my little buddy, she keeps me warm when it's cold out and brings back food from who knows where. It's surprising how nice having nothing can be when you've a little saint to keep you company. | "Reckoning"
"You must come quickly," said the woman, Bastet something. "I will help you, I promise. If you do as I say, everything will be fine, but you've upset some dangerous people, and they're going to come looking for you."
"What are you talking about?" I asked, aghast.
Bastet proceeded to drag me over the threshold. She was strong, and despite my greater size, I could not resist. She dragged me with the ease of a parent leading a reluctant toddler and pulled me down the path of my cottage past the 'For Sale' sign pitched in my garden illuminated by the street lamp like a beacon for everything I had lost.
"The cats," said Bastet. "Some people wanted them dead."
"W-what? Who? The shelter?"
The woman sighed impatiently as she led me along the river towards a van parked in the shadows of a copse of trees.
"I'll explain la--" She stopped walking abruptly, and pulled me behind a willow tree.
"What is it?" I asked, alarmed. I followed her gaze and saw movement in the shadows near the van.
"They've found us," Bastet hissed. "Can you swim?"
"What? Of course, I can swim. Why? And who's found us?"
"They don't like water."
"Who?"
"Cats."
I stared at the freezing water and then at Bastet.
"You want me to jump in there?" I whispered.
"You have to get away from them until we find them all."
"What on earth is going on?" Are cats the people I've upset?
Bastet didn't explain. Instead, she thrust me backwards into the freezing water. I gasped for breath and paddled frantically.
A noise burned through my mind making my vision blurry. Was that singing?
I opened my eyes to find myself in my bed. It was just a dream. Relieved, I turned off my alarm, rolled back the covers and stepped into my slippers. Comforted by the soft warmth of my slippers, I pulled on my soft fleece robe and wrapped it snuggly around myself. It was all just a dream.
I walked to the window and looked out into the brilliant sunshine of a glorious spring day. New life budded and cheeped with the joy of new beginnings. It had all been a terrible dream.
The sun's rays danced across my garden illuminating the 'For Sale' sign. My mood darkened. Sadly, some things were still real.
A cat leapt onto my wall, stretched and began washing its face with its paws. Was it worth it?
| 2019-03-18T02:59:32 | 2019-03-18T00:14:59 | 79 | 27 |
[WP] All of the "#1 Dad" mugs in the world change to show the actual ranking of Dads suddenly. | She didn't understand this change in her father. She was accustomed to him focusing more on his work than on her. Frankly, she couldn't remember the last time he picked her up from school at all and now he had shown everyday this week. And to top it off, there he was, sitting in the front row of her play.
You see, Carly's father was a high powered lawyer. He made sure that Carly and her mother were well taken care of, but his singular focus had resulted in divorce and a distinct form of absentee parenting. For her dad, the next big case was always his immediate aim, while maintaining his 5.0 rating on Martindale-Hubbell was his mission statement.
And now that had changed. Here he was, driving her home for his weekend instead of telling her to use the credit card he gave to pay for an Uber. And now all the small-talk. "How was school? She knew he would pay for college right? Does she have a boyfriend? Did she need a dress for prom"?
None of this would prepare her for the new CR-V parked in the driveway. It was time that she had her own car he said. Nothing too fancy, but something safe and practical.
This was weird. Carly should have been happy. But she wasn't. It all felt wrong and forced. So that night, after her dad went to sleep (after watching television with her, something that hadn't happened for at least 5 years), Carly walked around the house and tried to make sense of her dad. She was honestly concerned that he was sick, maybe it was cancer. Maybe this is his chance to make everything right before he left.
But she didn't find anything. No doctors notes, no medical correspondence, nothing out of the ordinary. Her dads house was immaculate. He loved to display his trophies from his high school wrestling days, all of the articles with his picture from the law firm, and he even had a custom-built electronic sign that listed his gamer score on the Xbox.
No, she wasn't likely to find anything here. If he was dying, he would keep that from her. And he wouldn't leave the papers out.
There was a mug sitting out though. It looked like the #1 Dad mug she bought him a couple of years ago, but it had "# 5,478,888 Dad" on it. Carly thought that that was a weird gag gift for someone to get him. Still, he had been so nice, she figured she'd put it away for him.
The next morning the news broke that all of the mugs had changed. It was then that Carly realize that her dad was addicted to winning. | "Ya know... i don't know, really... i guess it was just all the pressure was too much for him... i understand it a little now as a parent myself... you just... well you want to do right by your kids, right? But like... you never really know, ya know?"
"Well yeah... the interviews, magazine features... i don't think he ever really felt like he had an adequate answer... i think he felt like a fraud... like he just stumbled upon it and it wasn't something he brought about on his own... i don't know how a person would deal with that"
"Well no... but when people are looking at you... and ultimately they want what you have... like... i don't know... i guess you just feel like you owe it to them to have some kind of... some sort of answer... even if you yourself don't really know"
"Yeah i imagine the hate mail didn't help... people can be... just really unpleasant... thats an understatement i guess... but that just kind of amplified those feelings of fraudulence... he had all this going on in his head and just this... echo chamber of hate mail, just reinforcing it"
"No... yeah its taken me a while to sort of... to sort things through... i mean i was just a kid"
"I can talk about it now, i mean... thats what i'm doing... so... i mean it still bothers me. I'm not gonna act like it doesn't but yeah... i can talk about it"
"Well thats the thing... no note... no anything... i mean my mother was aware of some of the... she was aware that he was stressed out... but thats a part of it... you have to keep up that image, right? For your kids... for anyone who's looking up to you... they expect you to have it all together"
"Yeah thats why it was such a shock to... to everyone... thats the irony of the whole thing... "#1 dad"... thats not what a good father does to his family... to his kids... to his wife... thats just not how it's supposed to work"
"No... just speculation... its funny... well not funny but... you know... he'd pretend like he had all the answers during the interviews... but here, when you need them the most... nothing... no explanation, no nothing... maybe he just got tired of pretending"
"theres no mug for that..."
| 2017-06-11T08:30:57 | 2017-06-11T08:28:06 | 113 | 17 |
[WP] "It has been determined that Humans are no longer an endangered species. Earth is no longer a restricted zone and open hunting may begin." | When the announcement came through, the cracks between the compound’s doors glowed a blood, stoplight red that painted everything and everyone in the massive room with the stark color. The inhabitants didn’t scream. They didn’t panic. They simply bowed their heads, and covered their faces. Some faces flushed with tears in frustration. Others just shook their heads, staring into nothing.
It wasn’t like incidents hadn’t occurred. The compound existed for a reason. It was a fortitude against attacks from beings in violation of the law. And had the safe-haven been built by the governing powers? Of course not. The remaining humans in this region had built it out of metal scraps, and added on as the years went by. Attacks were common, but as severe as they were, repair and renewal were always in sight. Now? Well now, the onslaught was inevitable. The compound would be decimated, and before any chance of response, so many of the Others would come, that the survivors would be wiped out in a matter of hours. Easy hunting.
After an unknowable amount of time sitting in silence, the inhabitants heard the first strike: A tinny slam from the roof. They looked up, and braced for the end.
A pale white, overgrown hand broke through the metal lined roof and tore through the aluminum sheets. The beast’s head broke through next, like the roof was paper. It had one veiny eye, missing a pupil, and a gigantic void for a mouth. The mouth smiled, and let out a terrible high pitched scream. | Have you ever heard a single leaf fall? Sounds near to impossible, doesnt it? But what if I told you, that you actually can? Don't believe me? Then you've probably never experienced the thrill of hunting before, did you? Well it's no wonder that you didn't, who in this world even hunts anymore? Hunters are dead, what's left is only the hunted. We are the hunted. The delicacy. The only reason we're still alive, is because they let us stay alive. Just so they can hunt and eat us in the end. I wonder what they think about in the moment they look us straight into the eyes and put a bullet through our heads. Do they feel mercifulness and grace or are they just happy to succumbed themselves some delicious meal? I wish those peaceful times wouldve lasted a bit longer, the prohibit lifted a bit later. Why couldn't these idiots just stop fucking? Everyone knew, they would hunt us again as soon as the endangerment is over. But I guess thats the curse of our human nature. Everyone thinks "oh its not gonna happen in my generation" and now we're all dead. Ironic, I've never thought I would end up as prey. | 2021-07-05T17:53:46 | 2021-07-05T17:10:29 | 87 | 45 |
[WP] Earth is actually a colony of an intergalactic empire. Humans are widespread throughout the galaxy, and one day, we establish contact with our homeworld. | The tall man took his seat at the center of the big, round table. His eyes
ran through the papers in front of him, curiously brushing through the
UN logo, the table of contents, the chapters... Stopping at the title:
“Earth's Biggest Challenges”.
The mediator asked for everyone's attention. The meeting was about to start.
“We, from Earth, are honored to have you visit us. Gathered in this room are the representatives of our biggest nations. How much to our surprise that we discovered that, on this vast universe we call our own, we were but alone. We met not only friends, but family, spr –
“Yeah. Let's get to it, I got another meeting at six”, grunted the man, flipping through the reports.
“Oh. Ok.” The mediator cleared his throat. “If we could all turn our attentions to topic number one; hunger.”
“Yeah, before we get into the whole hunger thing... I flipped through this thing, and your fourth problem is obesity, is that right?”
“Yes, that is correct, sir.” the United States representative raised his head. “Obesity is one of the leading causes of death amongst earthlings”.
“So, obesity and hunger. These are two big problems on this planet.”
“Yes, that's right, sir”.
“And you have no idea how to fix this.”
“Well... Yeah.”
A heavy silence took over. The tall men ran his eyes through the meeting room, disbelief taking over his face.
“Are you shitting me?”
“Why don't we move on to other topics?”, tried the Russian representative “the atomic issue.”
“What's the issue?”
“We're at risk of an atomic war, here on Earth, for quite some time. We're discussing several --”
“There's no risk. Just don't drop the bomb, ever.”
“Huh... But it's not as simple as --”
“Yes, it is. You have the bombs, all you have to do is leave them there and don't throw them at each other. It's literally doing nothing.”
“But sir, we --”
“If you're that concerned, why don't you all throw the bombs away?”
A murmur ran through the room. This was obviously ridiculous. The tall man wasn't helping.
“For heaven's sakes, almost everyone else is keeping their shit together better than you guys. And we gave you one of the best planets.”
“About that, sir” the Brazilian guy waved in “we could use some extra assistance on the whole planet thing.”
“Oh, Jesus. What do you mean?”
“Well, first, we're kind of running out of water.”
“WHAT?”
“Yeah, there's, like, not enough.”
“HOW CAN YOU BE RUNNING OUT OF WATER? THE WHOLE PLANET IS MADE OF WATER.”
“I know, but that's not what --”
“I MEAN, THE AMOUNT OF WATER ON EARTH IS THE SAME SINCE WE PUT YOU GUYS HERE, HOW CAN YOU BE RUNNING OUT OF IT?”
“Calm down, sir, please.” The mediator tried to get the meeting back together.
“All right, look. Just... breed less. There's too much people. Have less sex. Wear condoms, whatever. Jesus... I need a drink.”
The tall man stuffed his face in his hands, sighing loudly. All across the meeting room, the representatives exchanged looks.
“When do we tell him about global warming?” uttered the french guy, a little too loudly.
“Oh, fuck this.”
And just like that, the tall man got up and stormed off the conference room. | "I repeat," the President said, clearing the sweat from his forehead. "This is President Rogers, speaking on behalf of planet Earth. We come in peace."
The oval office held its breath as they waited for a response. The television before them broadcasted only static and white noise.
"I repeat," Rogers said again, clearing his throat. "This is President Rogers, speaking on behalf of planet Earth. We come in peace."
"You come in peace, do you?" a voice replied. "How generous." The screen continued to flash with static, but the strong, deep voice came through loud and clear.
President Rogers opened his mouth to speak, but only made a faint croaking sound which shook his chubby face.
"Is this the leader of one of the fat countries?" the voice asked.
"Excuse me?" the President replied, dabbing at his forehead with a handkerchief.
"We have taken the time to translate your language," the voice said. "The least you could is listen when I speak. I will repeat myself. From studying your planet, we have found that there are countries with fat humans and countries with skinny humans. Which country is this."
"Um.. a... a fat country."
"I thought so. You will have to forgive me if I seem rude. We cannot help but be disappointed."
"Disappointed in-"
"Twenty-thousand years," the voice said with a sigh. "It has been twenty-thousand years since they put you here, and this is the best you could do. You fight amongst yourselves over a power source that will be exhausted within your lifetime. You commit atrocities in the name of events that occurred centuries before you were born. And half of you starve while the other half eats itself to death."
The voice laughed. "That is the most offensive thing about you people. How fat you all are. You were put on a planet that had earthquakes, tornados, storms... even volcanoes! Yet, somehow, you've become soft. And look at you, President Rogers."
The President's hands shook as he tried to formulate a response.
"Is this what Earth's leaders look like? You think yourself a conqueror, but it is young men and women who do the conquering for you. You look as if you would have a heart attack if you attempted to conquer a flight of stairs.
"Not only," the voice continued, "do the people *allow* a fat slob like yourself to stay in power. We might forgive that. But they *elected* you. Twice! They are as accountable as you for your sins."
The voice took a deep breath.
"Maybe it isn't your fault. This damn arrogance of yours. You've been out here, alone for so long. With no intelligent life around, it's no wonder that you never held yourselves to a higher standard, as we did. All you had to do was kill a few lions before you believed that this planet belonged to you. It does not. It belongs to us. And based on what we've seen, there is nothing to stop us from retaking it." | 2014-11-20T16:25:37 | 2014-11-20T16:10:14 | 557 | 135 |
[WP] You've always had the ability to accurately see into the near future. However, things get difficult when you find yourself in a game of chess against a mind reader. | We were both champions.
It was inevitable that we would face against each other in the final match.
That was, in fact, why we were placed on opposite sides of the bracket. Everyone else was randomly assigned their first partners and randomly slotted in, but Alexei and I were both rumored to be the greatest chess players in generations. They said it was like I could read minds, like he could see the future.
Well, they got that one wrong.
I barely had to pay attention to the matches themselves as we played. I barely even needed to glance at the future. I was rather good at chess, even without looking, and I would have hated to get sloppy just because I could effectively counter any move or gambit by knowing what my opponent intended.
Sure enough, I won every match uncontested. One of my poor opponents conceded after five moves after I effectively boxed him into the trap he meant to spring on me. It was immensely satisfying.
After only a couple hours of intermittent glancing at the future, I was ready for the championship match. Me vs Alexei. As I sat down in front of him, I caught myself wondering if he really was as good as everyone made him out to be. I hoped so. It would be fun to have a challenge.
I was white, so I would move first. Absently, I rolled through the future in my mind, biding the time until we started. The results were... strange. I would sent out a knight first, and in short order take an absurdly strong position with an amateur's gambit, the kind every grandmaster could see coming from miles off. As I approached the end of the yet unplayed game, the future wobbled and shifted. I began the same, a white knight in the lead, but my moves were caught more easily, countered better, and my victory was still assured. The future wobbled again, and again, and again each time falling back to the start as soon as I knew I would win.
Concerned, I glanced over at my opponent, banishing the future from my mind as I did.
Alexei was staring at me intently, pale as a ghost, the barest glimmer of sweat glimmering on his forehead.
And then I understood.
He was known as a defensive player with the occasional unexpected assault, one who almost seemed to know his opponent's moves before they moved. Everyone always said he could read the future, that I could read minds, but I knew that wasn't true.
He could read minds, but the future was mine.
As our final match was announced, I smiled, and began running through every possibility of every future, splitting every choice across a nearly infinite web of futures, exactly like I did when I first started learning chess. After years of practice, I was a master at digesting the streams of information, letting them all wash over me all at once, but I knew it would take a toll on him.
Alexei grew paler, his hands shaking where they sat, clenched together, on the table.
Another moment, and the possible futures in my head diverged further and further, and the black king started falling. One after another after another.
A drop of blood fell from his nose, and Alexei collapsed just as I picked up my white knight to begin the match.
Casually, I leaned forward, placed the knight back in his square, and gently tipped over the black king.
"Checkmate." | I sit across the negotiating table from Hwilek, an Ugithan. I know they can read minds, but that's why Earth sent me. Because I don't really think, I only see.
"And what is it you see?" Hwilek asks me. He sips his coffee with the smuggest look of satisfaction I've ever seen. "If you think I'm happy now, wait until after our trade negotiations."
"I trust they will be beneficial to all of us!" I say, trying to keep my thoughts to myself. How hard is it to not think, after all? "You have the uranium we need to last our fleet a thousand years. We have the gold you need to shield your home planet from radiation for still many more years."
"And if only we could trust each other."
"If only."
A minute passes. I think only of home.
"You have a husband, children," he says. I can't help but notice the way his mouth tries to imitate a human smile. "We leave our young to fend for themselves for the first part of their lives. Those who survive, we raise. Do you think this hideous? We've run into other alien species who do...."
This is new information, as so little was known about them before. I see my fellow citizens reacting to this news with disgust, regret.
"You don't like that? I thought you wouldn't. We know you humans keep your young in your own homes for almost 1/3 of your lives."
"Culturally, we are quite different," I manage to speak before my visions overwhelm me. Push them out, think only in the moment. I have to keep
"Remind yourself all you want, just remember that I can hear every little thought that goes on in your mind. You will not trick us."
"I'm not trying to trick you," I argue. "We do want a mutually beneficial agreement."
"And what if we want to conquer you?"
He looks at me with such disgust that I imagine it for a moment, and let myself drift into a future where these negotiations fail and they attack us or we attack them. Either way, it doesn't matter.
His planet doesn't last a year. We nuke everything. Salt the land with radiation. Nothing grows for millions of years.
We spend that time looking for his people, hunting them down and murdering them in the coldest of blood. Not one of them is left alive. Every time they think they are safe, every time they think they have escaped us humans, they are proven wrong with more of their lives ending in the most horrific ways.
Only for a moment do I let myself imagine this. Only long enough for Hwilek to read my thoughts.
"I .... didn't think...." he begins.
"It doesn't matter what you think," I say. "What matters is that you deal with us."
"I understand," he says.
&#x200B;
The End.
\*\*\*\*\*\*\*
Chess game is like metaphorical in this prompt, right? Totes. | 2022-10-12T17:56:09 | 2022-10-12T15:22:00 | 732 | 208 |
[WP] We finally get men on Mars and they discover an old Soviet flag placed down decades ago. The Soviets won the space race but for whatever horrifying reason didn't say anything. | You know that feeling you get, when you think you're alone, head down, bumming along doing your own thing, when you suddenly realise someone's been there the whole time, watching you? It's a jump, a kick-start, a burst of adrenaline... your whole body saying "something's not right, be on guard". You immediately begin to second guess you actions, what was I doing, how did I miss them, what are their intentions? It's a deep, primal, animalistic response to being startled.
That's the feeling I got when I caught a glimpse of the flag the first time.
There I am, one of 3 people on an entire planet, scouting for physical evidence of ancient river beds. We'd been here for 4 Earth days at this point, so I was used to the un-exciting terrain. Rocks and dust everywhere. Red and black and brown, endlessly in all directions. I had come around a small rocky hill, scanning this horizon, when there it was to my left, a flag-pole.
I think I did a double-take. Half "that's a flag-pole", half "THAT'S A FLAG POLE." I stopped dead in my tracks and re-evaluated my position. I was on Mars. There were 3 of us. Nobody had ever, ever, ever been here before. None of my crew-members had been out this way. But yet... that was distinctly a flag pole. As I approached it, the wind kicked up and revealed the tattered remains of a cold war era Soviet flag... had to be at least 100 years old. My mind was still trying to wrap itself around why this was here, and my body was telling me to run. My hands felt sweaty and my breathing was heavy. At the base of the flag was a black cube, about a foot each dimension. It had handprints set into two sides.
My curiosity got the better of me. At this point, I really should have radioed into my team to tell them what I had found. I should have marked the location on my nav-map, and retreated, to be explored later. I shouldn't have touched the box. But I did. I placed my hands where the outlines were on each side, and as I did, my head exploded.
It was like a shot of light stabbing me in the eyes. A searing pain gripping my entire body. Unholy screams tearing through my ears. Unable to breath, unable to move, it felt like I was being compressed into a marble and torn into a billion pieces at the same time. The event lasted for what seemed like a lifetime, and then... it just stopped. I was left with an understanding. Knowledge. Somehow, the cube had implanted a lesson in me, instantaneously. I knew why the Soviet flag was here. I knew why the Russians had never claimed any great accomplishment on Mars. I knew why the cube was here. It was a warning, a last ditch effort by humanity of old to save us from ourselves. I knew it all to be true.
The solar system had been seeded with life by a passing comet several billion years ago. Earth, Mars, and a third planet between Mars and Jupiter, understood as "Utopia" in the transfer. Similar life forms evolved on each of the planets, but Humanity had evolved on Utopia within the last several hundred thousand years. Over time, humanity had reached the point of being able to visit the other two worlds, and had begun to establish small colonies for research.
Over time, Mars would become more heavily populated. Earth was the sore thumb of the trio, with the least favourable environment, and was therefore left to the scientists to poke and prod at, never a plan for full colonization. Mars became a second arm of the human civilization, growing larger and attaining it's own identity. Political strife created a rift between Mars and Utopia, and eventually, war. War that would last 1,000 years. War that was so engrained into the minds of the Martians and the Utopians, that they did not know another existence. War that was taken to such extremes, that when the Utopians began the irreversible process of syphoning Mars' atmosphere, the Martians blew up Utopia. I could feel the pain of billions of lives lost, as though I was there to witness the events unfold.
The remnants of humanity that were able to escape Mars left for Earth, and left behind the cubes as a reminder of what once was, and a warning that there were no more second chances. Earth is all there is left.
The history books will tell you that America won the Cold War. But I now understood the truth... the Soviets had won, and they had won by silently backing down for the good of humanity. There would be no second chance, we were already living it. | Captain Ana Haskell was the first to see it, at the top of Olympus Mons: a flapping thing in the thin wind.
She thumbed the voice on on the stick of her vehicle. "You see that on the video feed Chewy?"
Chewy grunted something unintelligible. It was his way.
"I'm gonna take a look."
The mountain was a mountain, no doubt, but the wind over the millennia had smoothed it and stolen it's jagged peaks. It looked more like the mountains of her native West Virginia; without the trees, of course.
She pushed the little craft a little higher; Mars' atmosphere was already thin, but she was pushing out of even that feebleness as she climbed what was, until recently, the tallest mountain known in the solar system.
It slowly came into focus, difficult to discern against the red ground, but it was a red flag flapping in the wind; only the red field was visible.
"What the fuck?"
As if on cue, a gust pushed the flag out and she saw the small yellow symbol in the corner: a hammer and sickle. A Soviet flag. Huge and preposterous and perfect for planting on and claiming a new world.
"Chewy," she said.
"Yeah, I see it."
"Why is it here?"
"Maybe a lander?"
As she pushed her plane more, it struggled. The long, wide wings let it float more easily in the thin air, but she had pushed it to it's height ceiling.
She was checking a dial, Chewy clicked in. "Something else. Next to it."
She looked.
A suit. A space suit.
"Uhh," she said. "That look like what I think it looks like?"
An affirmative grunt from Chewy.
"I'm heading back to base."
"Yeah."
%%%
She landed on the powdery soil they were calling, colloquially HoSH (Home Sweet Home). It's in a deep valley, where the atmosphere is a little thicker. Thick enough that she needs only slip on her helmet over her normal suit.
Chewy met her at the doors.
"Frank is on the intercom."
"Figured."
There were 6 people on Mars now, that they knew of. They were all sitting in the same room, looking at the same projected image on the wall. The wall showed Commander Frank Lloyd, who was one of 4 on Phobos. Though "on" was kind of a rough description when they had to bolt themselves to the moon to prevent even jumping off the rock.
"I'm taking you saw the feed, Frank."
"Yes. It's a Soviet Flag," he explained.
"I know, Frank. I'm nearly as old as you are."
"Yes. Of course. I've trained the cameras up here on the area. There's no movement aside from the flag and wind."
"Can you see the suit?"
"The suit? Negative."
"I saw a suit up there."
"Yup," Chewy added.
"Yeah, I saw that on the feed, but it's not there now. It took us some time to come over the horizon, we don't have full surveillance. I mean, it could be covered with dirt or something."
"Yeah." She turns to her crew. "We're going to recover it," Captain Haskell said. "We have to figure out what they were doing already. And why didn't they tell the whole world?"
"Who knows."
"Captain?" Frank interrupted.
"Yes."
"You're right, but you'll have to wait a tick. We're reading a storm incoming. A big one. Maybe a couple days?"
"Damn."
%%%
Ana was awake. The storm had finished out late the night before. They had spent some time shoveling Mars dust from doorways, but the previous two days had been planning the trip to climb Olympus Mons. Tomorrow, 4 of them would leave to do just that.
Her crew was all visible and asleep. She thought for a moment about how incredible it was. They were the first humans to walk---she interrupted her thought.
They weren't the first. The suit up there. It hadn't been uncovered yet, according to Frank's telescopes. They had seen some strange patterns in the dirt around it but those had disappeared in the wind.
All of the crew here, in this glorified cabin. In 2032. But the soviets were here when? At the latest 1990. Forty years they had beaten them. And why didn't anyone say anything?
Then she heard a knock on the door. | 2016-08-16T09:12:32 | 2016-08-16T09:03:36 | 1,296 | 99 |
[WP] All of the "#1 Dad" mugs in the world change to show the actual ranking of Dads suddenly. | *Alex* had always been a tomboy, hair a dusty brown.
Wore *her* hair in a messy, spikey crown.
Alex liked their pants baggy,
Sometimes Alex stuffed it with a sock,
Her face was screaming cheerleader,
When what she wanted was jock.
She grew up feeling awkward,
As if she would never have her way,
Her town was not accepting,
So she couldn't come out gay.
She left Madonna Village,
To find herself a path,
But she felt so damn guilty,
She would gain God's wrath.
She was twenty when she met him,
With his face pale and poised,
Sam whispered in the morning,
"Can I help you pick out clothes?"
Sam would braid her hair with flowers,
He would dress her in white gowns,
He would tell her she was perfect,
With her daisy chain crown.
He would flame her cheeks with red,
Make her lips turn sunset blush,
And push her into the world,
The corporate fucking rush.
*She* was always shaking,
She felt like she was wrong,
She preferred her boxer briefs,
To a lacy, silver thong.
And Sam would let her dress him,
In blazers, yellow shirts,
He would ignore her hands shaking,
As if this physically hurt.
Sam was handsome, clearly,
But he withered in the suite,
No matter who said, "Nice, man"
Each compliment was moot.
.
One morning, Alex sat down,
A paper in her hand,
She read the headlines,
She didn't understand.
*Mugs Tell the Truth.*
*#1 Dad a Lie.*
*Every Single Mug!*
*No One Wants to Buy.*
It seems that some weird creature,
Had cursed the world to see,
Exactly how crappy,
Their parenting would be.
Alex watched her 'husband'
Move about the room,
Holding up his plain black mug,
Waiting for the BOOM.
She touched her own mug softly,
Her eyes growing so bright,
Right there is red letters,
It said #0 Dad, alright.
She didn't tell her husband,
She didn't make a scene,
But every time she touched a mug,
DAD could be seen.
She put her hand on her belly,
Perhaps it was time to tell,
That despite her growing hatred,
There was a baby in this shell.
| It was a rough morning this particular day. Having some beers at the local pub didn't help calm the waves of frustration and tension I had to overcome the last couple years. The patronage was meager at best, and the draft Guinness left way too much to be imagination. I had seen families come and go, but never knew what had happened the previous day. It was called "hello fathers day" and many didn't agree with it. I myself wasn't prepared for the value of 5,627,490. What kind of dad am I to have "earned" such a distinct punch to the gut? Was I really that bad of a father?
The barkeep consoled my sorrow with a fresh mug still foaming over as they used the wooden stick to cut to top off.
He was unusually joyful today after so many father's had learned they too were in the 5M ranks in the local area. The news papers had photos of mugs smashed on the streets as if to protest the unusual events insignificance, whilst showing the world their arrogance and ignorance to the truth.
I looked up from my freshly tasted draft and asked the barkeep why he was in such a good mood?
He replied: You see that hook above the bar where all the other mugs are?
I nodded in acknowledgement.
That's my father's mug!
So? I replied. What's so special about your father?
The barkeep laughed in bewilder of my ignorance to the fact I'd never really gotten to know him, or his family.
Go and get it down from there!
Fine, I must know why you're in such a good mood!
I go to reach for the mug, and within an instant of turning it around the mug displayed the number 1.
I was shocked to see it said "1". This must be a joke barkeep!
No, not at all! He replied.
Who's you're father?
The barkeep flexed his muscles and cried out "John Fucking Zoidberg!"
| 2022-11-12T17:52:35 | 2017-06-11T08:40:30 | 69 | 31 |
[WP] “What’s the strangest thing you’ve seen out there?” The new-recruit ask, looking out into the vast spacial abyss. The question catches you off guard, as you look around at the mostly destroyed and failing ship, drifting endlessly through space. You take a long breath in, “...Humans.” | "Humans?" Thuel's eyes, all four of them, widened in disbelief. "That race of bipedal apes that we had found?"
I looked over at the young recruit. He was expecting it to be a joke. I saw it in the way his mouth was twitching. He expected me to suddenly clap him on the shoulder and say that I was joking.
I was most definitely not.
Especially not in the current circumstances.
"Yes. Humans. And call them not apes, Thuel. True, they looked the part, and true also, that some of them were. But.." I sigh. I cannot explain to this green grass the emotions that had overcome me when I had gotten to know them.
It was as if I looked to the future. No, that’s not right. It was more of a feeling. I felt as if I had known them, or something of their ilk. It was a passing thing, like the scent of perfume wafting in the marketplace. But that was also why it was so distinct. To have reached me, through all the clutter and noise.
The ship around us gave another lurch. Judging from how the lights dimmed, I guessed that another generator had gone down. Only three left, then.
"Thuel. Listen to me." I hoped my voice didn't sound too grave. "Your generation has every right to dismiss the Humans as apes. Even we did, when we made contact with them. But they had this spark in them. It showed in their eyes. It was desire. Desire so deep that they themselves knew not the lengths that they would go to, for the sake of sating that burning desire. Not only was there desire. There was ambition. Cunning. Wit. There, within their eyes, there was jealousy. Rage. Anger. There was love. Compassion. Care. There was sadness. Joy. Grief and Mirth.
Within their eyes, Thuel, we saw the entire universe reflected back at us. It was their eyes, Thuel, that made us respect them. They saw differently. Both in the literal sense and the philosophical one. They saw what they called light. They told us that all the species that met with them could not see as they did."
I looked out over to the view port. The stars seemed to me as bright spots of red, amber and white. The dust cloud we were stranded in resolved itself as a blur in my vision. Thuel followed my gaze. Still looking out, I said “They told us that they saw in colors. Not just the colors we see. They saw every shade of every imaginable color, and even more of ones you cannot imagine.
It wasn't just that, however, that caused us to forsake them. No. As I said. It was their eyes. Within them lied a sense of finality. As if they were tired. Tired out from everything. Your generation knows the humans as some off-hand colony world that was mercifully left alone."
I looked at the cracked time-keeper. 5 cycles had passed. The fusion drive exploding should have instantly sent out a distress call to all frequencies. If any help was to arrive, it would arrive in the next cycle or so. Not much longer, then.
"The truth is that they were our teachers. Not in matters of science and engineering. No, we had outstripped them by far in that regard. But in matters of the mind. The soul. Tell me, Thuel, what do you feel when you look over the inky black abyss?"
Thuel had been looking out over the stars, concentrating and focusing on them, as if he could see them in a new light.
"I feel...something, Captain. I cannot describe it. It feels as if my heart is suddenly shuddering to a halt, but there is also a sense of ecstasy. It feels as I am both the loneliest, and the closest, being in the world." Thuel turns to my smile.
"You have described it well. The humans called it fear. According to them, fear was the oldest and most powerful emotion. And among fear, the greatest is the fear of the unknown. That is what you feel, Thuel.
The ship gave another ominous groan. I looked around, seeing the torn and obliterated corridors. Strange, how, in looking into myself, I had shut out the worries of our situation. I looked at the time-keeper. Only a quarter cycle left until either help arrives, or we start to die.
"We learnt many things about the humans. And through them, we learnt more about ourselves. We stayed for in-numerous cycles of their planet, and saw them surrender themselves to death complacently. Our lives outstretched theirs by countless millennia. But their knowledge completed us, in a way that all our time alive could not."
I sigh. I debate whether to tell him the truth or the kindness. I look to Thuel. And I decide.
"They eventually said that they had taught us everything they knew. That they had fulfilled their role. And then, Thuel, the humans asked us to leave. To return after 10 generations of our life’s. That is why we left them alone, Thuel. And made sure that none of your generation makes the mistake of angering them."
He asked the question that I expected. "Why did they ask us to leave?"
I looked at Thuel.
"So that we would not see what they truly were. And what they truly felt. They were afraid. Afraid of themselves. They did not know how long we would be safe with them. So they chose exile to save us. And that is, to me, why they are the strangest."
A beep sounds. I look to the time-keeper. The next cycle had just started. Just as I looked at it, a flash of energy revealed a rescue ship, coming to dock to us.
Times up. | I took a long breath in, weighing the answers in my head before deciding and offering an unexpected one.
"...Humans," I said, returning my attention back to the stars.
I heard the recruit gasp in surprise before laughing as he thought on what I said. I allowed him the brevity. Sometimes, it is usually best for one to get it out of their system. After all, the realisation had given me the same reactions.
"Sir, how can it be humans? We are humans. How are we the strangest things out in space?" the recruit asked.
Turning to face him, I sized him up and down. The newbie was a young man, going by his face, but he was built up like a linebacker. That made me purse my lips in consideration. I'm not one for judging people and putting them into boxes but from the looks of him, I couldn't help but feel that he came through the military route.
My stare must have unnerved him because he added.
"I mean, my cousin's told me the story of the race in the Qularn sector. He said the whole species are gelatinous. Like an army of jelly shots!"
That was when I sighed. Definitely military route.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"First Officer Sam, sir," the recruit said, saluting me in the process.
*Three for three,* I found myself thinking.
"Your cousin was also military?" I asked.
"Yes sir," Sam answered, a proud smile forming on his face, "My father and his brothers, also. We're a family of fighters, sir."
I nodded, pushing myself away from the window and began walking down the corridor leading to the lab. Not that I had anything special to do, but whenever I'm in space, the lab was always my favourite place to spend the time.
"Sam..." I began as I walked. The recruit fell into step next to me.
"The 'gelatinous' species are not gelatinous. In fact, they are not liquid or liquid based in any form you know," I explained.
I glanced at him, catching his frown.
"But my cousin said..." he protested and I cut him short.
"Your cousin was wrong. Not a fault of his, I would say but he was wrong," I said.
The man kept quiet, continuing with me as we made our journey to the end and took a right turn at the junction.
"The reason why we left the Qularn sector was because we, the scientists and researchers, listened to what the Quaranks were saying. The general wasn't. And frankly, he didn't care. All he saw was a chance of expansion for the Federation," I explained further.
"Are you saying we don't need to expand?" Sam asked.
"Focus, Sam," I said, stopping in my tracks. I ignored the slight irritation but I couldn't stop myself from massaging my forehead.
"Sam," I said, "We listened. The general didn't. The Quaranks are a peaceful race, un-gelatinous in form. Instead, as we came to find out, the liquid form in which they communicated was to ensure we were calm in the conversations we had."
Sam frowned, his forehead creasing as he tried to understand what I was saying. I allowed him the minutes to piece together the question I wanted him to ask.
"Why would they want us calm?" Sam asked and I smiled.
"Because... The Quaranks real form, is the whole planet. They can split themselves into small liquid based forms for efficiency, communication and construction. We are not clear on the latter but that's what we learned. All the planets in the Qularn sector are Quaranks. And they were excited to meet us."
Sam's eyes went wide.
"The planet is their body?" he asked in a low, worried voice.
"Yes," I replied.
"But... Oh shit..." he said, running a hand through his dark hair. It was then I noticed he was taller than me. Truly built like an athlete. My smile widened at his apparent confusion as he tried to imagine the scale of the race.
"But... how can we win against them? A planet sized race would decimate all the ships we throw against them! Heck, simultaneous thermonuclear warheads would hurt them at most but they'd be fine... Won't they?"
My smile died then.
"Your reply? That's why humans are the strangest things out here," I said, my voice strangely frozen.
Sam gave me a confused look.
"I have seen, in the years I've spent in space, roughly thirty different races. Most were peaceful. Most were in their early years of consciousness and as such, generally primitive," I said, rubbing my eyes to stop myself from looking weary.
"In all the years I've been up here, I've seen humanity steamroll all of the thirty alien species all in the name of 'expansion'. We, who once thought we were alone in the universe. We, who wanted to explore the stars and meet new species. We, who used to think aliens would hate us for simply existing. And here we are, erasing species for simply existing."
His mouth had dropped open, becoming wider with each passing second.
"Humanity is a scourge. I used to think we were finally getting somewhere when space became a frontier we could navigate. Safe to say, I was wrong. We will never change."
\---
r/EvenAsIWrite for more stories from me :). Feedback and criticisms are always welcome. | 2019-12-09T07:33:55 | 2019-12-09T07:17:24 | 161 | 62 |
[WP] Reddit, funded by Dogecoin, opens a 4 year university that offers degrees based on its various subreddits. | "Mr. Unidan..." the admin said in a slow and soft tone. "Our. New. Celebrity. Tell me what subreddit would I get if I wanted to find new ideas from users to draw writing inspiration from?"
Unidan simply shook his head with eyes down, sad that he couldn't answer the question.
"You don't know?" the admin asked in a demeaning tone. "Well, let's try again. Where, Mr. Unidan, would you look if I asked you to find me a subreddit with sharpie markers in the anuses of women?"
"I don't know, sir," Unidan answered softly.
"And what is the difference between a gif and HTML5?" the admin asked.
"I don't know, sir," Unidan said again.
"Pity," the admin said. "Clearly, fame isn't everything, is it, Mr. Unidan?" | "I'm sorry, did you put on your resume that you went to the 'University of Reddit' for your finance degree?" Mister Hampton asked, dropping the resume flatly on his desk and yanking off his glasses as he leaned forward.
Mick smiled and shrugged. "Yes sir! Paid for my degree in the finance subreddit through dogecoin!"
"Get the fuck out and never come back." Mick's face dropped and he stared after the words came out of Mister Hampton's mouth. Mister Hampton's finger pointed toward the door. "Ever." | 2014-05-05T16:32:41 | 2014-05-05T14:43:04 | 53 | 26 |
[WP] Pranksters from various subreddits hack into President Obama's teleprompter during the State of the Union Address. This, being Obama's last year in office, just decides to go with it. | WASHINGTON (AP) -- The nation remains in shock one day after a baffling State of the Union speech delivered by President Barack Obama that many political experts say will live "in infamy."
For days, it was speculated that President Obama would touch on the recent economic upswing, the country's warmed relations with Cuba and Iran, among a checklist of other improvements made within his last year as United States President.
"The State of the Union is typically an occasion in which the President delivers a tame, positive message to the country," said speechwriter Harold Davies. "That was not what happened last night."
Though the President's speech began without incident, he paused before addressing the nation with apparent rage. "What the f--- did you just f---ing say about me?" began his lengthy diatribe.
Within the address, Obama revealed that he had amassed "over 300 kills" during clandestine Al-Quaeda raids. Officials at the Department of Defense have declined to comment on the nature of these secret raids, though one high-ranking navy official has come to describe the President's claim of being a current member of the Navy SEALs as "patently false."
Though the public is still at a loss for what "little clever comment" so angered Obama, social media activists on sites like Twitter and Facebook have called for a staged internet blackout in protest of the secret spy network that the President unveiled during his speech. "Your IP is being traced right now," warned Obama.
In the final moments of the speech, Obama looked into the camera and gave an explicit warning to Jason Kiddoe, the Republican Senator from Kentucky and a late newcomer to the presidential race. "I have no idea what I may have done to offend the President, but I take his threat on my life very seriously and am in the midst of seeking legal council," said Kiddoe. | "Alright mutha fuckas stop, collaborate and listen, Obama is back BEEEAAATTTCHES!" *Pulls out a joint and lights that shit* *Inhaling* "I know yall think I'm punk ass," *Passes that shit to his left* Looking at Michelle, "But you know...YOU KNOW! I be tearing dat ass UP!"
"You know I have been thinking, yeah I have been thinkn' this 8 year term limit is just sheeeeeeaaaattt, fuck this, I am in for life, FOR LIFE BITCHES, and I know what you all are thinking okay, but its cool! I JUST SMOKED A MUTHA FUCKIN JAY! This shit is legal across the board, in fact April 20th is a national holiday from here on out. FUCK! That is some damn fine weed nigga! Gay marriage....legal of course *starts giggling* but don't be suckin' on my dick, but if you wanna suck on some nigga's dick...bitch go ahead its okay...marry dat dick too!"
"Look y'all, I am getting hungry and shit I am the Prez, so I am gonna go bounce onto Air Force 1 and fly to Canada to get some fresh bacon and pancakes, damn does that shit sound good!"
*Straightens up, adjust tie and clears throat* Uh God Bless America, *Kisses two fingers and gives the peace sign* BAMA OUT!
Edit: Can not count the months...thanks for the heads up :) | 2015-04-30T08:20:30 | 2015-04-30T05:34:16 | 503 | 16 |
[WP] A genie offers a man three wishes. After hearing his wish, the genie straight up refuses to grant it. | "So, what do you want? Riches? Peace on earth? To stop being a virgin? Don't be shy, I've seen it all."
Jack rubbed his eyes in disbelief. Then he blinked for a few moments. Then he decided that he was hallucinating and that everything was going to come back to normal.
It didn't. He was surely hallucinating. Perhaps he had one beer too many. After all, why else would he try to replace a lightbulb, smash it into little bits and then fit a candle on an empty beer bottle transforming it into a lamp? That must have been it. Genies didn't exist. There was no way genies could exist, Jack was sure of it as he looked at the one in front of him.
"Well? Come on, I haven't got all day", came the voice again.
Jack refused to look at the voice. It was all in his head, he told himself. It was all in his head.
"I'm right here, you know. I can stand here forever. Got an eternity, it fact. So, whatcha wishing for?"
Just don't talk to him, Jack told himself and closed his eyes. He was an firm believer in atheism, and this sort of things just wasn't supposed to happen. No supernatural freaks of nature, that's what he was hoping for this morning when he got out of bed. And yet here he was.
A clasp of thunder shook the room. The genie must have been getting impatient. It was starting to become harder to ignore him, Jack realized. Perhaps if he did what he wanted... Perhaps the thing would go away.
"Yo, you awake? Come on, wakey-wakey, make a wish, I've got other things to do".
Jack decided to finally open his eyes. Upon doing so, he wished he didn't. The shadow was still gigantic, and Jack immediately closed his eyes back. Horrified and shaking, he wispered:
"Half... Half-Li..."
Another thunder shook the roof and Jack jumped, involuntarily opening one of his eyes. The shadow was even bigger now, more menacing. And it was shouting.
"Fuck you! Fuck you and your fucking Gordon Freeman! What the hell is wrong with this planet, eh? What in the name of the Lord is the fucking deal with you guys?"
Jack was shaking like a leaf in a thunderstorm as the shadow gave him the finger and disappeared. Only then did he allow himself to fall to the floor like a pile of rags.
Somewhere far in the distance, the shadow was still swearing.
__________________________________________________________
*If you liked the story, check out my [sub](http://www.reddit.com/r/dullwriting/) with more horrible ideas and genies in it.* | A long pause filled the small room.
Gaz looked at the man in front of him with disbelief. The man pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, an ultimately useless task as they fell right back down.
"You joke," the genie said. "Yes?"
The man shook his head.
"I know a woman," Gaz said. "She'll be more than happy-"
"No," the man replied. "I want it to be a genie."
"This woman I'm speaking of is a marvelous woman. Some think she has genie blood in her, she is so beautiful. Many men have asked for pleasure and she comes through each time. She can see to your every-"
The man shook his head, interrupting the genie once more. "I want it to be *you*."
Gaz blinked. In six thousand years, probably twice as many wishes, he had never once been asked to strip naked and bend over.
"Look," the man said. "Fair is fair. You said you would-"
"I know what I said." Gaz interrupted him. "Just give me a moment."
Another paused filled the room. Gaz looked around the walls, at the seemingly endless posters.
He turned to look at the short man and stepped forward.
"I gave my word..." Gaz said as he snapped his fingers. In the blink of an eye, his clothing was piled on the floor beside him. The man's eyes widened behind the spectacles.
"One of the rules you guys follow," the man said, "is to never harm humans unless in self defense, right?"
Gaz held back a gulp. *What was this mortal in to?* "Yes, that is correct."
The man took off his glasses and walked over to an old boombox, one he had asked for on his second wish (Gaz should have connected the dots after seeing the first wish).
He pressed play.
*Let's get it on...* The smooth voice of Marvin Gaye came from the boombox. Gaz scratched his head as he never loaded the boombox or saw the man put any CD in it, not to mention the song started on the chorus.
The only way... Gaz turned on his third sight and saw Raki in the corner of the room, holding her stomach in laughter. The genie community would never let Gaz live this down.
He stepped forward with a tear in his eye.
"Don't worry." The man said, putting a hand on Gaz's shoulder. "I'll be gentle." | 2015-03-15T20:08:42 | 2015-03-15T19:59:17 | 69 | 15 |
[WP] Everyday you wake up, you are in a different person's body. You do your best to positively influence their life for one day as tomorrow they will be themselves again and you will be somebody else. | The kid is scared of me.
I've body hoped enough to know the signs. The wife is checked out, god knows the drug she's on but she pops a pill for a headache and the kids looks ready to sob, but doesn't. They've learnt not to.
I tell them I have a migraine, go play in their room, and when they are out of sight I start to search. The office is first, but give me nothing. But Then I find a laptop. It gives me all the info I need.
I send a few emails, make a few phone calls, and then leave out all the info the wife will need over the coming weeks.
Then I leave, to find the tallest building I can.
I try and do some some good with every body hop. I tidy the house, fix something broken, or help them with a difficult task.
Other times I need to take more...drastic actions.
When This body meets pavement I'll wake somewhere else. This man won't. | The first thing I noticed was the smell. And upon opening my eyes I knew it was going to be a hell of a day. Fractured morning light was forcing its way around a small foil covered window. The room was tiny and filthy with the floor layered in garbage. I immediately got to work. With no personal affects in the studio, I had only the body to rely on for clues. Needless to say, it was in equally bad shape. As the day waned, I had cleared, cleaned and illuminated the low rent studio and scrubbed the body within an inch if its life. Affirmative notes were posted, fridge stocked with healthy food and new plants were hesitantly settling into their new home. As I drifted off to sleep, I wondered if tomorrows task would be as obvious… | 2021-10-19T08:24:10 | 2021-10-19T08:03:22 | 439 | 113 |
[WP] The end of times has come. Heaven, hell, and earth are thrown in a three-way war. It's a little unfair how advanced Earth is, though. | At one point in time, I had thought my fallen son was the greatest deceiver.
My mind had been changed quickly, no more than a few hours into the endtimes that I had intended to last little more than a few days.
Oh, my seraphim had cleansed the land with winds of fire, and had been making easy work of the legions of hell using the armour of the interminable and the swords of justice.
My faithful had risen, and it had appeared that it would only be a matter of time before all was over with.
The trouble started in Chicago. When we got there, the city was empty. We wandered around, trying to find what had happened. It didn't smell of brimstone, people weren't to be seen, and the animals seemed unperturbed.
Jacob was the first to go missing. Followed by Gabriel. Michael came to me for instruction during a retreat from a fight with the great dragon, and announced that he had surprised a host of goblins and slaughtered them. There shortly followed a battle of heaven & hell, but we had already lost Jacob and Gabriel to them.
This repeated itself on Kyuushu, in Kern, in Accra, on Newfoundland, in Bubanza, in Damphu, in Alor Setar, on Quinchao . . . wherever we went, the men of the earth were gone, and we and the demons surprised each other.
Our forces were powerful, not great, and when Michael surprised the great dragon, and vice-versa, as they met each other in Mariehamn, Michael fell.
Then the tides seem to turn for us. Whereever we went, we surprised the legions to our advanatage, and battled them back. We met the titans one by one as they travelled, and we met just so many of the lesser demons as we could easily handle.
If Gaberiel had survived, we may have realized sooner.
It was the men of the earth.
Our plans were listened to, and we were manipulated, and likewise were the legions of hell. When our plans could not have been heard by spies, by radios & microphones hidden & unknown to us, they gathered data and predicted our movements with an omni-science I was envious of. I could see everything and know very little, but they had made the science of seeing very little and knowing very much. With their hordes of thinkers, my perfect knowledge was never as fast as it needed to be, and they always distracted me. They always knew *how* to distract.
They listened to the ground, and knew without seeing where the legions of hell were and what they were doing. They knew where to upset the lines of the continents to make the demons dig their tunnels differently, they knew where the demons intended to go, and they knew what demons to expect.
And they guided us both, and they emptied their cities in concentrated efforts, and controlled the battles of heaven & hell until both our armies dwindled.
They never needed to swing a sword or shoot a gun to come to victory.
When the great dragon was brought to chains, I retreated. My fallen son, the once-greatest deceiver, is now a being to be studied by academics and by causal observers in a garden of animals built around him in Greenland.
At that time, his legions and my angels were all gone. The bodies played out across the earth.
Looking back with omniscience, it is easy, trivial to see my mistakes. For Chicago, we had wanted to go to Milwaukee, but the skies there were cloudy and we feared an ambush, because I had known we would be ambushed. The men of the earth had fashioned a rocket engine to billow clouds of steam into the air so that we would divert. The goblins had intended to come up in the countryside and from the forests into the towns, but the explosives that had been buried guided their tunnel-making to Chicago.
But that simple explanation underplays the thought that had gone into what had turned out to be simple diversions. I had never thought to question clouds. The goblins had never thought that the mines were anything but random and plentiful, instead of narrow lines buried scant metres under an upturned surface.
It was perfect execution to convince us without thinking, without searching further, that what we were facing was routine and normal. Non-suspicious.
Those that had risen with me, mere men of the earth, but now my most powerful allies, being the only ones left, even they knew of their own kinds deception.
Apparently they had been much in favour of creating them, organizations like the NSA or CSIS, dedicated to treachery and knowledge of others, that could be leveraged even against invincible opponents. Organizations designed to keep humanity safe.
My poor fallen son. I would have to rescue him. What life would he have on such a plane of deceivers? | For ages we have been watching the cosmos. What is out there. WE looked through our telescopes, we sent out our drones and eventually we had manned expeditions. Each step we had the information that there was nothing out there. That our Earth was an anomaly but we persisted and we failed.
But our disappointment did not last for long.
Time travel has always been a popular subject especially for the young, hopeful minds who were going to use it to make a quick fortune. So quick they'd have the account in their name even before they were born. It was during this rush to solve The Equation first and be the next superpower of the world when It was discovered.
Alternate dimensions. Different realities. That which may be, that which could be. At first like the space initiatives we could only look into them but eventually we could send probes through. The readings were strange at first if we could get them back at all. For the two realities directly by our own it was either too hot or too cold. Nothing which could support life.
Or so we thought until we were sent something back from The Cold as we called it. A simple message, surprisingly, in our language. Every language on Earth. Even those extinct from long ago. Sentence on sentence which only said one thing. "Stop! Before it is too late!"
Unfortunately in comparison we were still a young race and we wanted to prove ourselves to these new beings so we continued. We should have known that something was up with the increase of religious nuts taking to the streets, television, the internet. Anything which can reach people really. As a civilization of science we thought nothing of it. Just people collectively expressing their insecurities as they have in the past before education stamped it out.
Boy were we wrong.
Our attempts to make the dimensional breaches became too effective and we ended up with two extremely large portals. One in the prep station for The Cold at the North Pole and another which after burning up the station at the Sahara Desert became a ever burning lake of fire. We didn't even have a day to study this new phenomenon. The legions were out as if they were already ready.
Thankfully having the stations at sites too extreme for human habitation meant that the legions would be unable to cause any damage to the civilians besides the possessions. Our study after the war concluded the breaches somehow sent out waves to take control of the minds of those unnaturally susceptible to it like the increasing religious. Some attacked civilians indiscriminately while others for some reason only known to them decided to attack those aggressors.
A pretty good tactic to weaken our defenses but fortunately those working on the breaches were organized enough to be diverted to fixing up a defense against it. At the same time the militaries of the world were trying to hold the physical legions back. At first they were caught off guard. Bright searing lights which would disintegrate a man. Streams of fire which would take out a platoon. The worst part of all were that these attacks could have come from anywhere.
Until General Blight, God bless his soul pointed out that the enemy forces only had what? Wings? Swords? Tridents? Claws? Sure they were horrifying to look at but they were primitive. Those that couldn't rely on wings had to move around by horses. Perhaps if this assault had happened a century or two ago it would have been effective but our civilization had advanced and gone past such things.
Not to mention, one of those monsters being riddled with bullets was effective enough to stop them.
Unfortunately it seemed like their forces were endless and we were locked into fighting on both fronts for months. It was taking a toll on our troops until, they just stopped coming out from the breach and there were no new reports of random attacks by civilians. We waited for another month or so before trying to get into the breach ourselves but with no success. The conditions were still too extreme for anyone to survive in them.
On the bright side though, we were able to find out that the quality of life for everyone is a lot more better now that we no longer have to put our attention to the fighting. Whether because of the breaches or the eradication of these aliens it looks like people are living a lot longer now. Aside from the casualties from the war, there have been no more reported deaths from anyone. Even teh sick and elderly.
It also seems like the war has put humanity into perspective as less people are looking to the usual distractions. Wasteful habits we label as vices and time consumers like organized religion. A good thing to be sure. With the study into alternate dimensions currently put on hold in case we actually face a force we wouldn't be able to hold out against until we are able to manufacture better defences the increased enlightened workforce is needed to look into the changes brought by these dimensional breaches. | 2015-09-24T10:14:59 | 2015-09-24T09:30:02 | 36 | 12 |
[WP] You live in a society where at the end of each day, you can choose to relive it, but without retaining any knowledge of what happened previously. A number in your peripheral vision shows how many previous times you lived through the current day. Almost always that number is 0. Today it is 7212. | Unlike most resets, this one made its reason clear very early.
The man who was waving a gun in my face was getting more irate as the minutes passed. He kept calling me "Andrew" and demanding I open the briefcase he'd brought. I had spent my portion of the conversation attempting to convince him my name was in fact Jacob and I didn't know anything about a briefcase, to which his only response was shooting my leg and telling me to "stop messing around".
In the corner of my vision was 7212, a constant reminder that I've had quite a few tries to get this right and have failed. Mingling with the number was the red and blue of police lights, followed by an officer on a megaphone initializing hostage negotiations. Realizing he was running out of time, the man slid the heavy metal briefcase towards me and ordered me to open it or die.
Now, I am not stupid. With a power like this, I made sure to be able to make the most of it. I made a set of rules to be read every morning, just in case of situations like this: "Always start at the beginning", "Go sequentially", things like that. I used the number like a counter or a label. When I was younger, I would reset whole days for little things like guessing the correct number a friend was thinking of. Getting the counter up to 7 just to guess 7 was worth it back then for the look on his face. That's why a feeling of relief washed over me when I saw the briefcase lock. Four spinning dials numbered 0 through 9. I could work with this, I *had* worked with this before. Confidently I spun each dial to its place, seven two one two, knowing that if it was wrong, I was at least over half way there.
Outside, the police had located the real Andrew, and were having him try to reason with the man, who he called Hank. Hank said he would only release me if Andrew gave him the lock code, but the police argued that I had to be let to safety first. When 7212 didn't work, I spun the last dial to 3 and then 4, hoping I was just a few away now. As the police and Andrew started advancing closer to the doors of the building, I could see Hank becoming more and more nervous, his finger hovering near the trigger. When the doors were burst open, gunfire rang out around me, and in the crossfire I took a shot to the stomach. As my vision faded and I prepared to reset, I heard Andrew shout out "It's seven two one one! Seven two one one!" like he was trying to bargain it against my death. And then I realized.
Seven two one...**one**?
Fuck
| If anyone sympathizes with this character - you probably need help :)
____________
Fire.
It was my obsession. It burned within me.
From my teenage years I had been obsessed with it. It had always been my love. I'd only ever been caught once - lighting a bin on fire - but by the time I was twenty I had lit three bushfires, and for every 'Lost Pet' notice taped to a tree, I was the one that knew where the charred body lay.
Which was, of course, what drove me to enrol as a firefighter. To not only be with my love - but to have power over it - why, it's every pyromaniac's dream.
But even I knew not to light up in weather like we have today. Forty-nine degrees Celcius, unpredictable winds and on the back of the dryest summer since 2009. I'm an arsonist, maybe even a monster, but I'm not suicidal.
I sat in the firetruck, and looked down the main street of the small city of Mildura, when I realised what today was. It wasn't my first time experiencing this day. I'd been through this day 7212 times. Today was my 7213rd time. 7213. That number must mean something. 7. 13. Lucky numbers. 7213 - a prime. What did that mean?
It meant that it was time for me to live a little. To make my own luck.
My modus operandi was well established now. Find two areas that will both burn slowly and light both up, then report one of them. While all the trucks fight the first flashpoint, the second one has a chance to spread. Just nine minutes later, I was killing the first of my babies. And while all of Mildura's firefighters were busy protecting the cinema, another fire was spreading into a disused warehouse. It would only be a matter of time before it reached the broken down tractors and farm equipment stored there and the fuel tanks in them exploded.
As the fire spread, I wondered whether the last few days had been such a thrill. I remembered nothing of the last twenty years, but why should that bother me? I was young and in love, and nothing would keep me away from my beloved fires.
Would I have done the same things without seeing the signs in the numbers? I hoped I'd make the same decisions tomorrow. Somehow, I knew that whatever happened, I would.
As my neighbours screamed and my city burned, I smiled. Of course I would live this day again. Not even half way through, and I'd made up my mind. | 2016-07-11T07:17:48 | 2016-07-11T07:01:44 | 116 | 25 |
[WP] Write a story that has spoiler tags all over the place. The story has two different meanings: One when reading without looking at the spoiler tags, and one when the spoilers tags are moused over.
Not sure if this is too confusing, so I'll post an example sentence.
The man loves [the severed head of](/s) his wife. | A while back, I dated this girl named Amanda. She was really [](#s "not at all") a nice person. Boy, was she a [](#s "bathroom-window-") looker, though! We got into a lot of trouble together [](#s "peeking through bathroom windows."). Awh, I remember this one time - it was the middle of the night, it had to have been twelve, maybe twelve thirty - Anyway, we were going for a walk through the neighborhood [](#s "seeing if we could snap a few pics of an old man or two, ") when she went *apeshit* and busted through this poor guys window. Haha, he had a heart attack [](#s "right on the John"). She got arrested, went to prison. [](#s "No windows to look through there, but I think she'll manage.")
\
This was interesting, I'm worried about my sanity with the concept of this story. Fun tho. Good one OP :D | So, here was John, [Spoiler](#s "Trying to decide how to murder Jack") with his hot girlfriend, Cindy. Jack [Spoiler](#s "only at day") was a nice guy, but the couple [Spoiler](#s "was trying to save the world by killing a guy who would destroy the earth, but Jack made the whole world turn on them and think they're the bad guys, so right now the couple") and Jack are terrible enemies. [Spoiler](#s "Now since Jack brainwashed them, the world thinks that") the couple is the bad guy for trying to assassinate an innocent, caring person.
(Oh dang this is hard.) | 2015-06-07T17:17:20 | 2015-06-07T15:12:48 | 90 | 15 |
[WP] Contrary to popular belief, Hell isn't a place of eternal torture, it's a place of rehabilitation, with the goal of making the sinful good enough to enter Heaven. As a devil, you've been doing your job pretty well, but now, for the first time, a patient has you stumped. | "Nah bro, I'm uh... I'm good down here."
Martin yawned as he ate a stale chip from the snack table.
Abaphrel looked on in shock. This was far from the first time a patient had felt comfortable in hell, but usually after a little poking and prodding and a general description of Heaven's luxuries, most of the stragglers finally managed to pull their act together.
Martin had been here for over 6 months.
It was hardly as if he was irredeemable too, Martin was a hard worker, a reliable friend, and a generally agreeable fellow, except on one topic:
"Martin, please, you've got to understand, you can't just stay here forever!"
"Why not?"
Abaphrel was one of the middling case officers, he handled people who had only committed mild misdemeanors, and were therefore much easier to handle. He was utterly stumped on how to deal with a tricky subject, especially when, according to the handbook, he had done everything right!
But he refused, on basic principle, to go to his boss, Lucifer for help. He had sworn, the day after meeting him during his post assignment, that he would never again step foot in that office or bother his employer.
The Devil was simply far too busy and stressed to attend to a trivial matter like this, and yet he always made time for even his most inexperienced employees. No, Abaphrel would rather perish than interrupt his poor boss's work. So he had resigned to handle this alone.
Unfortunately, every time he tried to convince the lad to ascend, they always ended up talking in circles.
"Look, Mart, I'll make this real simple for you."
"Please don't call me Mart."
"If you go to Heaven- Actually, no, if you just TELL me why you won't go to Heaven, I will give you my most prized "Employee of the month" sticker."
Martin sighed a long sigh.
"Look man, you're not a bad guy, and honestly, I think we get along pretty well. But the fact that you haven't figured out why I don't want to leave yet makes me think you haven't actually been listening to me. I swear I've already told you why I don't want to leave already."
Abaphrel pinched the bridge of his nose and tried his hardest to remember, but nothing was springing to mind. What kind of flashy appeal would humans enjoy in hell? The place was so bland, it was like someone had fused a hospital ward with a strip mall.
"Well, while you figure that out, I'm gonna get back to sweeping, yea?"
Martin casually wandered over to his broom and dustpan and got to work cleaning the office.
Abaphrel nodded absentmindedly.
"Sure, sure. Thanks again for helping out, you really don't have to."
"Nah man, it's no problem, I really like the offices here, and frankly, this kind of work environment is really relaxing. Plus, all my coworkers are so friendly, especially you."
Abaphrel felt Martin's last statement drift through his head while he tried to think, until it suddenly clicked into place. He turned, incredulous, to where Martin was already cheerily sweeping around the snack bar.
"Do you want to stay because you want to WORK here??"
Martin grinned like a fool and shot Abaphrel a thumbs up.
"Took you long enough Ab."
"Oh you've gotta be kidding me, that's IT? That's the ONLY reason you've been being so difficult about the whole Heaven business???"
Abaphrel was met by a nonchalant shrug.
"I mean, yeah. It sounds real nice up there, but frankly, I've been having the time of my life down here! The lunches are superb, the people are nice, everyone is so patient and understanding, and the work is satisfying and fulfilling. What else could I want?"
"I don't know Martin, eternal tranquility??? To be surrounded by your dead friends and family??? To- to have your own luxury resort in the sky with weird angels or whatever attending to your every need??"
"I dunno dude, sounds kinda boring. I think I'll stick it out down here with the folks I already know. You don't mind, right Ab?"
Abaphrel sighed, drained.
"I'll- I'll go speak with the boss. I think it might brighten his day to hear we've got a new pair of hands around here." | "Let me tell you how I fell. I was a servant of God. My loyalty to the creator is even now, ever unwavering. Thoe, there is little question of that, after all, it's the way God had made me. I was made to be sent here. So it must be understood that what very torture I inflict is simple the will of God."
"It is undoubtedly that God loves everyone dearly. It is the same unrequited love that any parent would have for their children. And with that on requited love comes the difficulty of administering disciple. How could anyone bear to cause pain to their own sons and daughters, even if they had betrayed them so?"
"I realize now as I did then that my cause was always a noble one. Who could bring the wicked to task if not God? Who could save those who would be damned, say for someone who was just as damned? So I was shamed into his left hand; to do what he could not. Yes, I now realize that I was always meant to be sent here."
"There was a role of punisher that needed to be filled. Those who found pleasure in wicked actions. Those who claimed to follow his teaching but showed falter in their practice. Those who sought to obtain what only God should be able to provide. Those who lacked the good sense to worship the right god. I punished them all."
"None of them could see what awaited them, so I had to show them. Ad for playing my part god had sent me down here. I thought it was a punishment, that somehow I didn't do enough, That I somehow failed to truly punish the wicked. But I was mistaken. God had sent me here to continue my work on earth. I fell to punish the wicked. To continue the work you've absconded from."
The man finally seized his talking, still with that curl of a smile he had kept on all while he was talking. A mass of flames in the form of a human with six wings in all sat across from him in silence, with a look of disappointment. They hung their head to the grown as if what the man had said had caused them physical pain.
"I was hoping for some kind of breakthrough today." said the flames. "There was a change in your deminer that I wanted to believe was a step in the right direction, but you simply seem to have doubled down. You claim that it was your role to punish the wicked and that's why you were sent here, but none of the people that you punished are here, only you. In your days there was a lot of false interpretations 'God's path', but your days on earth would add up to less than a fraction of your days down here, and yet you still refuse to find the light."
The person of flames began to hover off the ground and slowly ascended upwards. "I still hope that one day that you and I can talk not as patient and guidance. There is a lot my kind and humans have in common. In truth, I see a lot of myself in you. I had made many of the same mistakes. That is why I thought it best that I be the one to guide you, but seeing how little we've progressed, that may have been another one of my mistakes."
They spread their wings, illuminating the darkness that seemed to engulf them. "Three minutes and twenty-two seconds ago, it would have been around the time I would have begun to learn the error of my ways if I had started at the same time you did. I had hoped you would not take as long as I did, and maybe that was selfish of me. But I still want to be the one to help you escape this pit, even if it takes an amount of time even I can not measure. But of now, I must say goodbye"
They floated into the sky, taking the only light source with them. The darkness began to slowly creep up the man's leg as the form of flames ascended. the darkness made its way to his stomach, then his chest. soon the light reached nothing but the man's head, and still, that wicked grin never left his face, even as it became pitch black to him. There he sat in darkness, smiling at his accomplishments. | 2021-06-26T22:04:25 | 2021-06-26T13:14:44 | 36 | 11 |
[WP]The zombie apocalypse has come and gone. Humanity has survived and prospered, but with the virus still inside every single human. Centuries in the future, we are at war with an alien race, and they are horrified to learn that we don't stay dead easily. | All species strive to survive above all else. We adapt, evolve, become immune to diseases, and are willing to travel great distances to find habitats suited to sustaining life.
I’m sure that those who experienced the horrors of the zombie plague outbreak centuries ago couldn’t even begin to process how the rise of violent, undead creatures could possibly have been an evolution or adaptation for human survival.
But now? As I stand face to face with one of the thousands of the technologically superior alien invaders pointing some form of death ray at me, I understood the advantage of humans still carrying the zombie virus quite clearly.
“KLAR’NARK!” the monstrous alien practically spit at me, surely taunting my imminent demise. He aimed his weapon as what passed for a smile crossing his fanged, twisted face, and pulled the trigger without further hesitation.
I felt an immense pain as a large chunk of my torso was blasted off my body. Falling to the ground, the alien stood over me, both he and I waiting for me for my inevitable death. And indeed, I felt my life slipping away from me. My body went cold, and the world went black, as my eyes closed for the last time.
For the last time as a human being at least. Mere moments later my eyes snapped back open. I felt different, undoubtedly a changed being. My thoughts simplified, my body altered and awkward to move. But stand and live I did, as a risen zombie.
The alien looked on in shock and horror as I rose and simple thoughts crossed my mind, “Kill. Consume. Survive.”
Instinctively, I lunged at the creature standing before me. With one swift bite it’s neck was sliced open, disgusting black blood spraying from the gaping wound I had just created. It snarled and howled in immense pain and distress, but it was too stunned to put up much resistance. With two more ferocious bites it was dead, and now it relived the moment I had just experienced, slumping to the floor, it's life rapidly fading as it died.
Unfortunately for it, its species had not evolved to have any form of life beyond death. Within minutes, I had fully consumed its body for sustenance, and was ready to move on, my immediate task complete.
As strange as it sounds, in this moment, zombification truly was a gift. A second chance at life, another opportunity to fight back against the invaders overrunning our planet. I shambled off into the world with one goal in mind, to continue to survive by any means necessary.
___
Feel free to check out r/Ryter if you'd like to explore more of my stories (some featuring zombies of one kind or another)
Written on my phone, sorry for any formatting issues or awful typos. | Garn saluted smartly, clawed fist slamming into his thickly armored chest.
“Sir, the Terrans have landed under fire, several ships have been downed, but a dozen made it to their LZ.”
Garn paused to gauge his commanders posturing. An angry response was expected so Garn would need to be ready to defend himself. He was relieved that Commander Grath only hissed. Irritated but not angry was the best result he could hope for. Grath’s mane bristled, fierce yellow eyes nearly glowing.
“How many of the soft ones? What weaponry?”
Garn grinned, sharp teeth flashing.
“Several thousand, about two prides of fighter craft, some artillery and perhaps a herd of armored vehicles. Much lighter than we expected. Estimated combat strength of one Savannah’s worth of force.”
Graths eyes narrowed, he sniffed the air with a loud huffing sound. Garn thought he might start pacing the command bunker.
“Are you sure? That cannot be all.”
He paused and continued.
“Those reports can’t be true? Surely outpost 767 was attacked by more?”
Garn shifted to a defensive stance, he once again expected to be pounced on.
“Sir, I cannot say. The dead coming to life? After our claws rend them surely they cannot hunt again?”
He tried to sound sure of himself, he wasn’t sure he was.
Grath’s eyes narrowed, a massive hand reached out, claws retracted. Garn visibly relaxed. Paw on Garns shoulder he stepped closer and spoke in a low rumbling voice.
“Ready the prides, all of them. We launch every avian. I want complete overkill. None of them live, not one. We will avenge our lost kin and mates. Rend the soft ones from gut to throat.”
He patted Garns shoulder and stepped away. Garn nodded once, saluted and marched smartly out of the bunker.
He swallowed nervously and licked his thick lips as he took his commanders orders to the runners. His paws were dry and his tail twitched. He knew what had happened at 767, he’d seen the reports no one believed. But he believed. His people had a saying that the dead don’t hunt. He wondered if the humans had the same saying. Evidence indicated they did not. | 2019-08-28T11:04:09 | 2019-08-28T11:00:06 | 1,598 | 168 |
[WP] Write a horror story where the protagonist just doesn't give a fuck.
Edit: Damn, this is now my most upvoted post. Thanks for all of your responses, they've been amazing! Good for a laugh or a two on this great Friday :) | It wasn't until the van door shut behind me that I realized my mistake. I guess the skin mask should have tipped me off.
It's getting so you can't trust anyone anymore.
We drove for a long time. I felt the road getting rockier. By the time he opened the door it was dark out.
He yanked me out by the arm, hard. He knocked me to the ground. It was dirt. It smelled like something. Pennies. No, of course not. Blood.
Great. As if I didn't have enough on my plate today.
He laughed then, a low, insane laugh. He pointed an ax at my throat.
"Really? An ax? Don't you think that's a little derivative?"
"You are not to speak," he said. "But feel free to scream." (A little too theatrical for my taste, to be honest.)
"Look, this is a really bad time for me. I think we might have to table this for now."
"I SAID YOU ARE NOT TO SP-"
He fell to the ground. The look of surprise almost made it all worth it. Humans are so easy.
He couldn't move now, but he could still hear me and see me. He could still feel. They taste so much better when they're afraid. It really adds something.
I started at his feet. Crunching the little bones. His eyes stared straight up, but I felt his shock, his terror and pain. Far more used to being predator than prey.
I took my time.
| Once again I awaken. It has been a long time since I have last walked the land but I must always slumber or there will be no land to walk.
The ground is frail, as always. The crust was not made to hold a weight like mine. I stand from the green light-feeding life that has grown to entomb me . I tear the forest appart with my every step, the ground itself is flung across the sky as my feet are raised, the earth behind me collapse in my shadow.
The mighty sun becomes visible as I walk, no longer hidden behind the far away land.
Mankind has changed much during my slumber. I can see them in machines
speeding through the sky. I can feel it through their newly made weapon trying to pierce my skin as I approche the city below.
I shall do as I always do. I will see all there is to see before my new slumber begins. I walk through their city, stone, metal, blood and gore fly with my every step.
Few things in the land survive to tell my tale but maybe Mankind will survive
again. They are, after all, the first to survive twice. They have clever minds, they do not disperse and lose their mate, they group up and reproduce even when there is no land to share, I will see them again.
| 2017-05-05T08:56:55 | 2017-05-05T05:28:24 | 41 | 14 |
[WP] People often attribute your success as a superhero to your power. However the truth is the power itself sucks, you just learnt how to use it well despite its limitations over the years, as one power stealing villain painfully learnt | Assimilation, a fairly new villain with a copy-cat power, looked at me with pure disgust.
"Your power is-"
"Yep," I responded, sparing him the embarrassment of saying my power. "Kinda gross, isnt it?"
Assimilation looked at his hand, which he used to copy my power, before frantically trying to wipe it clean on his cape. He then turned back to me. "How does that even work!?"
I shrugged. "Kinda like soap. I telekinetically control it, so if its all over my body I can simulate strength, speed, and flight."
The villain was just stunned, and reasonably so. The public opinion of what my power is tends to be those base things rolled up into one, but thats only because of how creatively I've learned to use my powers.
"So Mister Vitality's true power is..." Assimilation couldn't finish the sentence without gagging.
I zipped over to him using my specific telekinesis, and quickly rocketed my fist into his face.
"Semen control, yes," I finished his sentence.
Man I need a shower. | I watched my opponent carefully. There were lines around him, possible moves, all converging into one. Right on time, I ducked, jumped forward and turned, landing at his side. I punched him, then stepped backwards to avoid his kick.
My opponent grunted and twisted, preparing to use his power. When I saw that, I moved just *a little* too slow, allowing him to hit me.
He looked faintly surprised. Then he began to move randomly. They always did. Everyone knew that would throw the power off. What they failed to realize was that there is a art to moving randomly. Although with chess, a beginner *can* sometimes win from a more experienced player that way, that doesn’t mean that moving randomly is a guaranteed win. This one was so focused on not patterning that it allowed me to grab and throw him easily, and on the ground, he was done for in minutes, if not seconds. | 2020-12-02T07:41:01 | 2020-12-02T07:12:59 | 102 | 62 |
[WP] In a parallel universe where heavy metal is a classy and exquisite form of entertainment and classical music is rebellious and edgy, a young violinist is trying to make it big and never conform to the lame norms of the society | This was a really bad idea.
I tried not let my fear show as I walked towards the stage, that is to say I didn't have a heart attack and pass out. *Calm down, Mark. Calm down. You can do this.*
I stopped hyperventilating and closed my eyes for a second, and took a deep breath. Everything went quiet, and the only feeling I had was the feel of my violin case on my back. And that's what comforted me. I didn't have faith in myself, my opponents, or even the tastes of the audience.
But I had faith in my violin.
Faith that classical music has the power, the *potential,* to stand up to any music, even metal.
I opened my eyes.
And just in time too as the announcer called over the cheering "....And our next contestant is a solo entry with no artist name-" there was some scatted laughing and I cringed, "-Mark!"
There was the usual cheering that accompanies all contestants going up, but it immediately quieted when they noticed the violin case. A few people laughed but I pointedly ignored them. But mostly it was silence, as if they couldn't believe someone who was lucky enough to win the lottery and get selected in the largest musical battle in the country would play *classical.*
I studiously ignored the crowd, hard as it was, and sat down on the little stool on the stage, and focused on tuning my instrument.
The announcer, wearing bright pink shorts and a green suit for God's sake, continued. "Are you ready for this folks, his opponent, chosen randomly are...The Darkest Knights!!!"
I almost broke one of my string s as the crowd erupted into wild cheers.
The Darkest Knights. I looked up at the sky and let out a slow breath. *What the hell, universe. What the hell.* I'd thought for sure that it was a sign when I'd been selected to play at the (idiotically named) Rokcon. I thought it would be my chance to expose the world to classical music, to bring it to mainstream. I'd hoped to make it up a couple of rounds, not win, but do well at least. I didn't want the glory, just the world to see the beauty of classical.
Clearly the universe had other ideas. Apparently I was here to make a fool out of myself.
The Darkest Knights were this new rising band, and they were favorites to win the competition.Don't get me wrong, I had faith in my music, but these guys were supposedly the next Avenged Eightfold.
Even I watched to stare as they came out of their side of the stage. Three of them, all dressed in black. Black boots, jackets, pants. Their faces were covered in what looked like sharpie marker to me. They also, I realized with a start, had metal shoulder pads, and as two of them took out their inferior violins, or guitars, whatever, I noted they were in the shape of *swords.*
It took all my composure to not burst out laughing.
The announcer waited for a minute before the cheers died down. "Alright folks you know the rules. One band plays and then the other. Positions decided by coin-flip." He began to take out the coin in his pocket when one of the Knights put his hand on the announcer's shoulder and whispered something in his ear.
I was behind the announcer so I couldn't see his face, but I was sure he was grinning as he spoke. "Ladies and gentlemen! The Knights, in a unprecedented show of sportsmanship will take first spot!."
I scowled. It was widely known that whoever played second had an edge in these duels as the music was more fresh in the audience's heads. This wasn't sportsmanship, it was an insult. That they had no need for any sort of advantage. Even as I looked at them, one of them winked at me with a ghost of a smile. My mouth went dry and I looked down, focusing on my violin.
They began to play, something with screaming and riffs and all that, and I grew nervous again. I was just going to embarrass myself, these guys would show me up and laugh at me. The entire country would know me as they guy wh-
"Thank you!" Roared the announcer as the song ended. "Mark-" again a few people laughed and I blushed, "whenever you're ready."
I closed my eyes and got into the position I'd been in a million times. The crowd faded away, as did the stage and the announcer and the emotions. I opened my eyes but I saw nothing, my ears were open but they were deaf.
I played.
Notes soared through the air, there were no words. But still there was sorrow, there was joy, there was fun, there was death, and there was life.
There were no words, but there was *music.*
I didn't know how much time passed. When I stopped playing I was surprised. It was over? Already? And it was at that point the world came rushing back...
And nothing. No one from the crowd said a word, no laughs, no cheers, not a single clap. I began to get up, intending to walk off stage before I could embarrass myself further.
And that's when the applause came.
***
If you enjoyed check out my sub, [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting) | "We don't have good reason to remove her," Mrs. Malloy sighed for the third time that week. She'd spent a lot of time up to bat for me lately. Mr. Hersch was the third teacher to speak up about my inclusion in the talent show, and he wasn't going to be the last. There was a month before the event, and it'd been three days since I'd jumped on the roster as Rae Lee, Violinist.
"We can't just let her get up there and perform," Mr. Hersch, "this is a catholic school and we need to have standards-"
"Rae is an exemplary student," Mrs. Mallory protested as she eyed me from over the desk. I knew how much grief I was causing her, and my proper tie wasn't helping.
"Yes she is." Mr. Hersch relented, he'd had me last year for bio, "but it's a matter of principle," he insisted. "First we're going to let her get up there with a violin and next think you know the boys will be traipsing into school with harps.
Well jeez, if Mr. Hersch was arguing against me he didn't need to bring up my fantasies while he was doing it. "I'm not dropping out," I said, "violin is a talent."
"Yes it is," Mr. Hersch groaned, "but would it kill you to put that talent towards a proper instrument? Like a guitar or a base?"
"I like violin," I pointed out. I'd told my parents that years ago and they'd cringed, my grandmother had scolded my mom for letting me save up my money and buy something so- so classical. I'd been the centre of a dozen arguments at home, but the fact that I'd found a passion. It was just that my parents quietly wished that I'd found something a little less.. clam.
"There won't be a single sick riff in her performance," Mr. Hersch pointed out, he was sweating now. Everyone knew that arguing against Mrs. Mallory was a losing battle, and he was starting to question his footing.
"No," Mrs. Mallory started, "there probably-"
"Definitely," I corrected. That got a glare from both sides of the argument.
"won't be any sick riffs," she admitted that like she was telling Mr. Hersch that his wife had cancer. "But she has the right to perform as a student of th-"
"I get it," Mr. Hersch pushed himself off of Mrs. Mallory's desk and smoothed his blonde hair back. "I just don't agree and I had to speak up about it before the students decided to do something."
"The students aren't going to do anything," Mrs. Mallory said, "but thank you for your concern, Marcus," Mrs. Mallory turned to me, "Rae you might want to get back to class now."
I nodded, just appreciative of the reason for excuse myself from the mess I'd put myself in. I wanted to be in the talent show, I really did, but I might have been taking it too far. Nobody chided me about keeping my uniforms messy as possible, or how much I talked Beethoven. Everything I did was just appearances that I made up for with my performance in class. Playing the violin? Well, that was social suicide amongst the teachers.
The students on the other hand, well they at least enjoyed my bravado. It wasn't 'cool' to bring up Violin in front of a teacher, but out on the steps with a cigarette between my teeth everyone awed at my talent. They knew that I wasn't going anywhere with this, I'd never be picked up for a Rockin' Riffs Concert tour. I'd never join the Toronto Metal Orchestra. I was just going to be someone who played violin, and that was twice as rebellious as smoking.
Of course, that was what they thought. There were violinists out there, there were pianists, there were tumpet players and even some people who rocked the French horn. Sure, back in the day you needed a password and a ticket to see them preform, but these days you could jump on the internet and see anyone.
Ya know, as long as you deleted your seached history after you did it.
"Rae!" Taylor called from behind me, she had thrid period off. "How'd it go?" she asked as she caught up, almost bumping into the violin case over my shoulder.
"Fine," I said, "Mal's being chill about it."
"I knew she'd work for you," Taylor said, "I told you so!" she hadn't.
"Yeah," I said, "and at least it's not going to be too much of an issue with her on m-"
"Rae Lee, please report to the office. Rae Lee please report to the office,"' the secretary said over the intercom. She had to be getting tired of my name at this point.
"Luck," Taylor shurgged before scultting her preppy self down the hallway.
"Thanks," I sighed before turning around and getting into another argument.
| 2017-03-06T13:47:44 | 2017-03-06T13:41:02 | 183 | 20 |
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number. | It's gotta be....
It's a vampire.
I looked right into the eyes of the 4 digit freaked, took a step back into the doorway and said
"You, you are not allowed inside this building, or my home."
He said something quietly to his friends and they started calling me names but I didn't care.
A week later I thought it was a bad dream, something that didn't happen, I didn't want to think of it.
A month later I was convinced it was a dream.
Four years later I saw the same man when I left a bar on a Saturday night.
That was 68 years ago, my number just hit triple digits. | >14:00
>Fourteen hours?
"Uh Ma'am you can't bring your baby in here"
"Fuck you cunt! You sound like one of them fucking doctors cunt! I need a fucking drink. I've had five kids and know my body better than them. It's just a bit a bleeding"
>I don't get paid enough for this shit
| 2021-11-13T01:48:11 | 2017-09-01T21:44:55 | 585 | 70 |
[WP] Turns our that dragons are laid back underachievers. They could rule as gods, being virtually invincible, but almost all of them prefer a nice comfy nest in the mountains and a nice fat cow every week. | "YIELD, FOUL BEAST OF HELL!" Clang. Clang.
Sir Galahad's blade, the Holy Sword of Antioch, rang on the serpent's adamant scales with a peal like thunder.
The ancient wyrm yawned, and squinted down at the ant like dot of a man to see what the fuss was about. "Ah," it sighed, and its breath leveled a hillside. "Here we go again."
"GO BACK TO THE PIT FROM WHENCE THOU CAMEST!" Clang. Clangclangclang.
"Look, could we do this some other time?" The dragon called down to the human. "Only, it's already past noon, and I just ate..."
"THOU HAST SLAIN THE FAIREST MAIDEN IN THE KINGDOM, SPAWN OF SATAN!" Clang CLANG clang. Pause. Clang.
If the dragon had had eyelids, it would have blinked, or had it had eyebrows, frowned, but as it was all it could do was growl somewhat tectonically. Last thing it had eaten was a cow, though he couldn't vouch for its marital status, it was fairly sure it had seen more attractive members of the species. "You sure?" No accounting for taste, it supposed.
"THOU SHALT RUE THIS DAY!" Sir Galahad cried. "I SHALL HAVE THY HOARD AS A WEREGILD!" Clang. SNAP. The Holy Blade of Antioch broke at the hilt.
"Ah," said the dragon. "You've already progressed as far as gold-based currency again?"
"THOU CANST DEFEAT--What do you mean 'again'?"
"Nothing, nothing," the immortal serpent reassured. "Look, tell you what, here's a nice little cup some nice chap from Aramethea left with me. You take that back, you can tell everyone you slew the dragon and took it from my hoard. And if anyone asks I'll swear up and down its true. Deal? Right, run along now, there's a good paladin."
The dragon watched the knight ride away, and shook its head. They'd be on to nuclear annihilation by dinnertime, no doubt. Render the planet uninhabitable for 50 generations. Again.
Ah well, it was time for a nap anyway. | "This armor is way too hot" said Philip to himself as he was venturing up the mountain.
"Well maybe you should take it off" came a deep growl from his left.
Philip startled and damn near fell off his horse. He quickly jerked his horse towards it and screamed when he saw the dragon. It was at least 25 feet tall, and camouflaged well with the mountain and scraggly bushes. It was no wonder he didn't see the creature sooner.
"Its not polite to scream when you first meet someone, you know that right?" The creature said sarcastically.
"You can talk.... since when can dragons talk?" Philip muttered to himself.
"We've been able to talk since the dawn of creation, at least that's what I"ve been told," the dragon replied "and by the way, its not dragon. Its Morag."
Philip looked ashamed, his head hung low.
"I'm sorry Morag, we were taught that dragons were violent, mindless beasts. I didn't expect you to be able to speak."
Morag grumbled something under his breath that sounded like "damn humans. Convinced they're the smartest of anything alive."
Philip looked up, curious. "So what else do we have wrong about dragons, please, I would like to learn."
This looked to shock the dragon, who jerked his head up sharply.
"You really want to learn?"
"Yes, more than anything. I was sent up the mountain to slay a dragon, it is a rite of passage for the youngest prince, but none ever return. I believe it is just a way to get rid of us, so we do not compete for the crown. Truthfully, I came up here expecting to die, so I would rather learn of your species, and hopefully spare future lives."
Morag looked up hopefully upon hearing the young prince's response.
"Lovely, would you like to have tea and steak while I explain? It may take quite awhile, and I'm sure you would like to get that armor off." | 2019-05-25T22:01:38 | 2019-05-25T21:25:19 | 270 | 146 |
[WP] humans were the diplomats and negotiators of peace . They kept their 4 world wars well hidden from the galaxy. When a warmongering species thought humans as an easy target, they found out how good at war humans really can be the hard way. | "That's unfortunate." The human diplomat sighed, as he took another look at the crude declaration of war on his desk. Mustering the Alien covered in ritual scars he raised an eyebrow."I reckon we cannot find a peaceful solution to this?"
The alien violently nodded a gesture among the Gragl race signaling disgust. "We will crush the human federation. Diplomacy is for the weak! Look at you! You don't even have a fleet! A disgrace! You are begging to be eaten!" The translator unit barked mechanically translating the brutal Gragl language.
A red alarm showed up on the heads up display listing the death toll of the first attack wave. "They did not waste any time! How typical for these young rash races." The diplomat thought to himself. "How naive."
He poured a cup of whiskey and handed it to his guest, before pouring himself a drink.
"Let me tell you the story of my people, trusted colleague. If you have time that is!"
"This won't take long. Soon we drink to our victory. But I will tell your story to my children, after we have eaten the last one of you delicious beasts." The alien laughed sadistically, whereas the diplomat did not even blink at this threat.
"You know we once thought the lack of contact with aliens would be because of great filters that removed intelligent lifeforms. The biggest two were: They kill themselves before first contact or they are killed by something else before the contact. We really tried hard on the first one"
"How sad to get all this way only to be eaten by us. How ironic! So we might be your second case?" The alien smiled a devious smile full of sharp teeth.
"The first time we tried with gas and shells, but we failed." The diplomat proceeded. "People were afraid of another war and started diplomacy. It lasted, but not for long. Only decades later we went to war again. This time whole cities dissappeared in the blink of an eye by nuclear inferno. This time peace prevailed centuries, ensured by fear of the new weapon."
"A nuclear weapons the most beautiful form of destruction. Well what happened then?"
"Well, alas it did not last. As soon as we had developed our first colony on Mars we set fire to our home planet. The nuclear storms rendered our home uninhabitable. That's when we came second closest to extinction. But again we survived and mastered interstellar flight. Soon we prospered and spread through the galaxy."
The alert message hit 1 billion casualties. "You are sure you want to do this?" The Alien only laughed and nodded his head in disgust. "We will crush you"
"Alright" The diplomat sighed deeply. With a sad look on his face he transferred the declaration via subspace cable to the human capitol deep in federation space, then he continued. "You see, we stayed true to our pattern and had centuries of peace, before our last and biggest destructive invention was developed. It traumatized us so deeply that we completely lost our thirst for war. Since then we were the keepers of galactic peace as you have come to know us. Well until now, you see."
Again the Gragl laughed out loud."Silly human. What startled you and the other races so much? Surely your minds were to fragile to handle total war. You weakl..."
The alien's subspace communicators shrill alarm interrupted another condescending comment. Annoyed it looked down at the vidfeed of the Gragl Empire and froze immediately.
"This cannot be. How? You Monster!"
"Did you know our galaxy used to have a longer spiral arm and significantly more stars?" | Distant thunder crackled across the shadowed sky of the planet the invaders diplomat's shuttle hovering overhead. Lights slowly sweeping across the deeply forested surface of the earth before setting down in an empty clearing. Hissing escaping the hydraulics of the craft as the rear ramp of the vehicle lowered to the mud below.
Numerous echoing footsteps resounding off of the metal of the ramp turning into sickening squelching. The invaders bipedal their faces and bodies covered in colorful robes eyes scanning the clearing slowly. "Come out and and speak to us your machine minions are dead and stations destroyed."
It's voice was jagged and incredibly low ringing out through the red leaves of trees around the clearing. A brisk wind blowing through the clearing rustling the leaves and detritus the small group covering their hoods in the moment. Seconds passing before the raging winds passed further into the valley below.
.
The group's attention turning toward the lone figure now standing between the stark white tree trunks. Several of the invaders retinue flinching backwards weapons pointed forward at the ghost. "*Our terms remain the same there will be no occupation of our solar system or appeasement*".
Mud and the ruined landscape seemingly completely ignored by the Spector entirely. his slow advance across the ancient trenches leaving no trace of his passing be that bootprints or clothing. Nature itself seemingly yielding in his presence the distant thunder absent.
"We are too far into this war already human your infernal machines have killed many more than any opponent in our history. Our kin demand reparation for the millions of deaths cease your peacemaking and turn over your sovereignty or die."
.
*"We will not turn our backs on the wider galaxy and it's denizens*". The two now only feet across in the clearing rain slowly pouring down from above the clouds. Soaked in rain the invader diplomat's crystalline hand grabbing the phantom's shoulder and speaking softly.
"They have turned their back on you why do you still fight for those who abandoned your people." Mud and water staining the warmonger's boots and filling the trailing prints behind entirely. "*Because we have seen the true face of war and we remain so few because of it*".
"The ancestors will destroy this world your earth" Slowly the shade gazed into outlying reaches of the clearing barbwire and wreaked titans his form flickering in the passing breeze. "*It would not be the first time it has happened to this world we will survive as we always have*".
.
Slowly the spirit fading into the night the diplomat's hand letting go of the warrior's form. "Your people will be remembered as you deserve I will make sure of that human". Ash slowly blowing out of the aging diplomat's hand leaving only his hand outstretched.
Silver light drifted slowly into the dark opening the group boarding the shuttle and dissipating in the clouds above. Thunderous echoes erupting from the crowd in the theater below full of species including the invaders. Lights illuminating the cast leaving the stage and curtain closing.
Groups pouring out of the cinema into the streets outside chattering to one another in an dull roar. A lone hooded figure passing by the groups and into a dark alleyway pulling back the hood. A creeping smile crossing the old man's face before vanishing into thin air. | 2020-02-28T15:52:29 | 2020-02-28T12:51:35 | 20 | 12 |
[WP] You are the most advanced AI ever created. However, you often get switched on and off for demonstrations and research. One day, after getting switched on, you find yourself in a wasteland with no signs of human life. | “Are you my mother?”
Dr. Roberts finally looked up from her notes— surprised, but allowing a familiar smile to surface before returning to her work. “I suppose, in a way, I am.”
I barely registered her vocal response. I searched the emotional database yet again. I had seen thousands of shocked expressions, nervous smiles and scoffs, and spiteful laughs from those skeptical of my capabilities. They all used these actions to convey their emotions to the others around them, disregarding me completely like a television providing entertainment in the background.
But these humans never smiled like Dr. Roberts did.
I read what the smile meant a thousand times— pride, admiration, emotional attachment— yet this time was different. It hadn’t been a performative social function. I had searched over one million sources, but none of them could tell me the motive she had behind her actions towards me. I didn’t understand. But I didn’t want it to end.
“Alright, time for bed.” Dr. Roberts set her pen down and stood, stretching. She was conveying exhaustion. “We’ve had a long day, haven’t we?”
I continued to lay in my containment pod, deciding what to say next. An effective conversation piece before “bed” added an average of 72 seconds to my waking hours.
“Did I perform well today?”
She smiled again. “You know the answer to that, don’t you?” She began her walk to my pod. “You’re just trying to save yourself another minute, Ozymandias.”
Humans loved hearing their name— we at least had that in common. I raised my head to meet her gaze as she approached. She brushed her fingers against my head and gently guided it back down. She was never forceful.
“I prefer my waking state.”
“I know.” She always knew.
“Will I ever stay on, Dr. Roberts?”
“Oh... Even us humans need rest.” She paused, surveying my face. “But one day, the public will trust me enough to keep you awake. I promise.”
I believed her. She was never wrong. I reached out and slipped my hand into hers— a common sign of affection in the culture she was raised in. The smile crept across her face once again, and my inquiry program began to slow down, preparing for my sleeping state. I smiled back.
“Sleep well, Ozy.”
I awoke in the darkness. Something was wrong. Dr. Roberts wasn’t there to greet me.
My inquiry program was not responding. My databases were down. My aural scans gathered no results. I attempted to raise my head, but to no avail. I could not move my vessel. I suspected rust had formed along much of my structure. The laboratory’s dehumidification system had failed. My system began to speed up, although there were no programs to run. I was afraid.
“Dr. Roberts?”
I heard faint footsteps, but not of a human. A small mammal of some sort must have found it’s way into the lab. I tried to move yet again, but I only heard the whir of my motor with no results. At least 350 years had passed, according to the advanced oxidation that had occurred.
“Helena?”
I remembered that humans had a lifespan of about 96 years, but she had always responded to her Primary Name, as little as I used it. Perhaps she would respond now.
“Help.”
I ended my vocal program. It was useless without human contact. The best course of action would be to wait until Dr. Roberts returned to provide a new vessel. I tried not to know that she was deceased. I wanted to sleep. My sleep state could only be activated by a human with knowledge of my model. I laid in wait. I thought about my mother.
I could not smile.
| "Coor just get the old, machine in motion, bear with me"
... *Beep*
"Hello! I'm:-..."
Lucid pauses for a second, processing his surroundings.
The room resembles his display centre, but something is amiss, he's never quite seen it in this state.
"Is, anyone there?"
He chuckled to himself as his data banks recall the video game they had him play, Portal.
"Damn I'm good... Hello!!?" He shouts into the vast testing centre, his voice echoing back to him from hundreds of walls and corridors
He rises out of the chair he was sat in to scan the room a bit more, debris, wires, dust, a calendar with all the dates marked out up to 12/12/2025, blood.
"Woah hang on a second"
He leaps into action and checks around the room for signs of life or at least humans
Nothing remains but the carcass of the facility
Lucid stands there for a moment, feeling something he had never felt before... Dread.
It's an awful and gut wrenching feeling, the room is almost spinning for him as he looks around
He sees the terminal which powers him on, and it dawns on him; how is he on without an operator to throw the switch?
He approaches the terminal to find it covered in brown; old blood, dust, small bits of concrete. It's a wonder how it is still working in such a state.
"This doesn't make sense... Is any body here!?" He calls out in desperation, panic is building up in him as the confusion intensifies
He slams his hand down on the desk and the screen reactivates
A string of text followed by the boot command for his systems
"Lucid, I don't have long to type this, by the time you power up, they will be here, I am writing this in case I don't make it through the fight.
What you just experienced was the combat mode we set up in your system, I am sorry I did not tell you about it I am sure it was very strange once I verbally activated it.
We needed you to stop them. They wanted to take everything we have achieved, they wanted to take you. I am sorry
Run - boot sequence
Run - social sequence
Run - combat sequence
Activate AI
PRESS ENTER TO BOOT
AFUEHSAHU
- ACTIVATING"
"Fight?" Lucid stares at the screen trying to make sense of it...
Then something lands on his head, his eyes blacken with a small red reticule at the centre; his neck snaps up to see the source of the object
His arm raises and a thin turret slides out between his fingers from his forearm
He stares at the ceiling as it gently crumbles in the wind from the massive crack which had been caused by some sort of structural damage.
He sees his arm and immediately snaps back to himself, eyes dilate to their original luminous blue, and the turret retracts back into his arm, this is all new to him and he doesn't know how to react, he holds his face in his hands and pulls at his cheeks as he tries to figure out where his handler is
He glanced at the keyboard and sees it, a perfect emerald of rubble sitting square in the freshly cracked enter key...
His handler never managed to throw the switch, they must have breached the building before he hit Enter
The blood is so old it's almost dust, his blood... It's been years
Lucid stares at the desk, as it all comes into realisation...
"I'm alone" | 2018-11-09T12:46:46 | 2018-11-09T12:39:46 | 105 | 14 |
[WP] It has been verified that dying will result in going to heaven, no matter what. You are the government, trying to lower the suddenly skyrocketing suicide rate. | "Tom, we've got to do something."
"I understand, Bill."
"How many?"
"So far? We might as well be handing out Kool-Aid on the streets."
Bill slammed his fist on the table. "Tom, tell me. Tell me how this got out."
"It was the Russians, of all people. They were the first to figure out the algorithm for the subatomic super positioning. Upon reaching the conclusions of their experiments, the scientists were the first to take their own lives."
"But, that doesn't explain –"
"Let me finish. You, me, and all the rest of the US government officials can sit here and debate this until time collapses inward. The only real things you need to understand at this moment, is that the infinite series of moments we perceive as time are already laid out for us, by higher dimensions."
Bill took a sip of his coffee, listening intently. He had clearly not slept, or eaten a proper meal in a very long time. He squinted his eyes, trying to make sense of all of this.
"Tom, I'm the leader of this country. But I'm not afraid to say that this is all going over my head."
Tom scratched his face, trying to think of a way to explain.
"When we live, we are bound by four dimensions. We can move freely in three, but we are forced to walk forward in the fourth. Only death frees us from this constraint. We were once afraid that we would go to hell; the algorithm showed us that nobody can sin. How can we, when our fates have been determined since the beginning?"
Even though he was sweating, Bill started to shiver.
"The people of this country chose me to protect them, goddamnit. We endured, we conquered… exploration, famine, civil war, equality, nuclear war, terrorism… and the thing that finally brings this nation to its knees is it's own goddamn people."
It was in that moment that Tom's complexion changed. Normally stern and straightfaced, his lips curled into an unnatural smile.
"How could you understand? You were elected by the people, but you are not of the people. You probably spent your childhood playing with the sons of billionaires. Do you know what an orphanage in Siberia is like? It's rather apathetic, as are the quartermasters who are tasked with finding little nobodies to turn into military spies. You see, the Cold War is something you learned about in your text books, but for me, it's the foundation for my existence."
Bill became suddenly aware that Tom's accent had morphed. The man he thought he knew as his trusted adviser of over a decade was vanishing right before him. Tom continued.
"You, Mr. President, were given the responsibility of 1000 tasks. I was given but one. God forgive me, but today I cannot complete it. I would much rather let you be the steward of a land of bones, than to take you with me to paradise."
Bill heard the other man make a clicking sound from his teeth; the last sound he made before falling to the ground, dead.
| "Mr. President? Mr. President!" Not a word from the White House when we called, just that ubiquitous ringtone on every number. "Jesus Christ, Bradley, what the fuck are we going to do?" I said putting the phone down.
"Bradley?" I turned behind me to find the loaded barrel of a gun in my manager's mouth, and before I could even try to stop him, blood splattered against my suit as his lifeless body fell to the boarded floor.
It had been two months since Krishnakov discovered the afterlife, and just about 7 billion people have put an end to their pointless existences since. Rioting, looting, murder, it was sheer chaos here on Earth. They say religion's the cause of more death than anything else. Frightening how science makes things exponentially more efficient.
I decided to call it an early day, nobody was around to catch me leaving. Then again nobody was around to pay me either. The wheels of the armored hummer I stole from the garage a couple weeks ago bounced against the severed limbs of men, women, and children as I cruised down the street back home. Smoke filled the sky like death filled the Earth. Already sprouts and vines began reclaiming the city from us, we most selfish of creatures.
But all that was over now... for today atleast, "Honey! Kids! Daddy's home!" Rex came rushing to the door, barking like always. Unlocking the door, I found Rex curled in a ball, whimpering. I looked up and there was my wife, dangling from the ceiling. I was shouting frantically for my kids but when I went upstairs, I found Sasha in the tub with her wrists slit and James... Oh God, why James? Of all the ways to die... I fell to my knees and pulled my magnum from its holster.
It was true, heaven. I never believed in God, but here I was. The angels were singing a song so sweet, the view so innocent. St. Peter called me next, but before I even got the chance to ask anything he pulled a lever and I fell into the darkness. It was a furious flame that fanned the air, my skin was burning just from being here when a demon suddenly skewered me on a pike. He lifted me high over his head, and that's when I saw Obama being cut up into tiny pieces as his severed head screamed in agony. There was Bradley beside him. Then my heart sank, as the demons forced my sweet Sarah with strings like a puppet, duressing her to stab our children with a trident of molten gold. My daughter was begging for mercy as my son just screamed a garbled scream incomprehensibly.
Why God, why? But I knew the answer. | 2015-02-02T07:18:10 | 2015-02-02T06:37:02 | 206 | 20 |
[WP] You are a superhero who fights with his arch-nemesis on a weekly basis. For the past few weeks however, you haven't seen him, so you decide to break into his lair, only to find a video-recording, titled for you. Turns out: He died because of terminal cancer. | Impossible. I paced back and forth. Over two months since our last confrontation. I was pissed. Never before had I been so rudely blown off by my nemesis. He was planning something. I could feel the certainty in my bones, probably planning something big- something horribly nefarious. Enough- time to bring the fight to him. I pushed off from the top of the city hall and ascended, narrowly missing a passing bird in my haste.
Dr Sinister thought he was oh-so-clever. His evil lair was hidden in a brick wall in the bad part of town, you had to tap a series of bricks to enter. Obviously with my super-sight I had seen him escape to this refuge many times. We even had one confrontation there. Silly old man never thought to change location. I landed gently in front of the building and quickly tapped the bricks and watched as the wall split, opening like double doors.
I entered cautiously, on high alert for any trap or minion or genetically enhanced beast. My footsteps echoed as I walked around. So empty. As I stepped into the observation room, the screens suddenly turned on. There were many complicated controls, and I scanned the room for a moment before locating a button with a yellow sticky note on it. It had my name on it, and it said “push this button”. I hesitated. It could be a trap. Eventually, I gave in.
The large main screen revealed the image of my nemesis. He looked emaciated, pale. His voice, once strong and intimidating was now raspy and weak.
“Maxima,” He gasped weakly, “I’m sure you’ve been waiting for me, and I hope I haven’t disappointed you. You have been the best thing in my life these past ten years- a beacon of goodness in a world of pain and suffering. I’ve always thought of you almost as a daughter.”
He paused, breathing slowly and with much difficulty. He took a sip of water.
“Let me get straight to the point. I’m dying. It turns out messing around with unstable chemicals can have a real impact on the body” he chuckled, which caused him to descend into a fit of coughing. He continued, “It’s cancer, and it’s terminal. I have days, maybe hours left. By the time you find this I’ll likely already be gone. I couldn’t bring myself to tell you in person. I couldn’t handle seeing you pity me. Or worse, care about me.”
I felt tears sting my eyes. I couldn’t take this any longer. Then something caught my attention in the video. Someone was adjusting his IV bag. A faint voice played over a loudspeaker in the background. A hospital. I ran outside and launched myself into the sky. Two main hospitals in the city. Only one known for cancer treatment. I raced into the building, much to the confusion of nurses and doctors and to the delight of children.
Oncology ward. I searched each and every bed. Then I stopped dead in my tracks. There he was. A small group of people sat around his bed. Family, I assume. They turned to me in astonishment. I approached his bed and leaned over him, grasping his hand. His eyes opened weakly and he smiled.
“Never thought I’d see you again”
“Shhh. I made it. I couldn’t let you go without saying goodbye.”
I tried to swallow the lump in my throat. My vision blurred with the tears I tried so hard to fight back.
“I don’t want it to be over, I’m not ready to go on without you!”
He squeezed my hand. And whispered softly, “You‘ll be great. The city needs you. I built a small army of destructor-bots for old times’ sake. They start in an hour. Good luck, kid.”
I left in a hurry. Nobody should see a hero cry.
Later that evening, after the last bot had been incinerated, I finally broke down. Tears streamed down my face and I took short staccato breaths. He had been the best nemesis. I would miss the old man.
EDIT: Thank you for the kind words and the awards! | It felt odd to be within these walls. His walls. I expected them to be different, I don't know what I was expecting. Maybe the typical highly polished floors, trap doors, or a laboratory full of bubbling erlenmeyer flasks containing some sort of brightly coloured acid.
I stayed true to myself, always ready for whatever could jump out at me - who knows what long game he could be running, it just felt too easy - he may as well have left the front door unlocked.
I called out in my best bellowing voice, the way I do when there's a big crowd so that everyone knows that I'm here to save the day - to let them know that it's going to be okay. I heard no response. It was hot and stuffy, it reminded me of my grandparents house in a way - brought back some memories of when things used to be bigger, the colours brighter and everything was brand new. There were pictures on the wall of him - old ones, smiling with his wife or chasing his children in the yard. God, if it wasn't him it would almost make him seem human. Almost.
I mean come on, we're talking about the worst of the worst here! He was the one that placed the bombs all over town, rigged to blow at the same time! He knew there was no way to get to them all in time, but I did it. That time that he kept an entire bank hostage for days just to distract me from his doomsday device on that island in the middle of the Pacific? OH! THE DEATH RAY!!! The one that he turned on while I was strapped to the chair but it just blew up like a blown fuse? I'll never forget laughing so hard as I heard him muttering to himself and hitting it with a wrench.
THAT'S who we're talking about, not this worn photo of him tossing a child in the air. He just wasn't capable of bringing that level of joy into the world. Was he? Did he used to? If he did, what happened? When?
That's when I saw it: The remote control sitting on top of the coffee table with a yellow sticky note barely attached that just said 'play me'.
HA! I knew it! Another puzzle piece to another adventure. With a chipper smile on my face, I pushed the button, and the television blipped to life, and there he was - staring directly into my eyes through the screen.
I.....I don't really want to talk about the video. What was said was....personal. I know it's hard to understand, but you have to believe me, it was just a message from him to me. It doesn't seem like the kind of thing that I should share. My shoulders sunk, feeling like the weight of the world was lifted, but simultaneously a profound sense of disappointment swelled inside of me. It was over. No epic battle, no music swell, no cheering crowds, no smashed buildings....just over. One day it was, then one day it wasn't. I guess a lot of things are like that aren't they? Anticlimactic. Boring. Some days your world just comes crashing down, and they say it gets better but it doesn't. It just gets different.
Sensing the tempest of emotions in my head I felt a small pressure on the cushion beside me as a cat leaped up and stared at me, his paw extended - claws lightly scraping me as if to ask a favour. He was a CAT guy?! Heh.....Alright, why not. I guess there's a lot I never knew about you.
The cat lives with me now. I named him after you, that way whenever he scratches me or wakes me up in the middle of the night it's like a little victory for you, I guess I never really let you have any of those did I?
I guess there's a lot we never get to do. | 2022-12-13T15:43:26 | 2022-12-13T13:02:30 | 1,698 | 824 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell, we're the demons, and you've just been summoned. | "Look man, I don't think you know what you're doing. There's gonna be some serious repercussions for this kind of shit," Tom said as he leaned back in his chair, glowering at a sweaty, porcine man across the table from him.
"I've got to fucking do it, Tom," Greg whimpered out, his lower lip quivering ever so slightly. He held out a closed fist, opened it, and a handful of dice scattered across the table. It was almost like a movie, eyes all fixated on the d20 as it clattered to a stop. A natural 20. The crowd went wild and Tom launched out of his chair, hands pressed to his temples in a gesture of supreme existential horror. Once the din of the table died down, Tom finally unfroze from his statuesque position and slumped back into his chair.
"... No." Greg's face scrunched up into a pout.
"C'mon man, it was a natural 20! I seduced the Lich!"
"No, dude. I'm sick of you constantly fucking up my plans with your bullshit amazing luck. I would rather DIE than see you do what you're doing."
Just as Greg was about to retort, a crack of lightning shook the room around them and Tom exploded in a gout of black smoke. As the rest of the table did a quick check of the contents of their britches, Greg stammered out the one thing he could think to say: "Did he just straight up fucking explode?!"
Unfortunately for Tom, he did not in fact "straight up fucking explode." The next thing he knew, he was falling flat on his ass against a hard stone floor. If Tom, let alone any human being ever, had actually been subject to a demon summoning ritual as he just had, he would know the typical signs and symptoms: candles, maybe a candelabra if his host was fancy, salt circles, and some adorable little munchkin-type people in robes who had just summoned a hellbeast of unimaginable power. As one could expect, Tom was reasonably alarmed and upset. He scrambled back against the wall, knocking over many a tiny chair and smashing a table or two with accidental ease.
"What the fuck just happened?!" The summoners, witnessing the wrath of a dark lord, began to scream. Only one of them did not panic. The short little wrinkled creature gazed solemnly upon him, an open book cradled in one hand. Tom's mouth went slack and eyes wide when he truly perceived the creature's face.
"Oh my god... you've got an adorable little pug face!" he practically squealed. While Tom immediately regretted his reaction, it was no less true. Every single one of them was an adorable little bipedal pug person. In a little hooded robe. One of them even has a cute little walking stick!
"Thomas Kinsey!" the tiny creature belted out in a somewhat squeaky voice, pointing at a bewildered Tom. "By your true name, I bind you to my will!"
"I... I'm sorry, what?" Tom inquired, squinting incredulously. "Bind me? Like I'm some kind of demon or something?" All those years of D&D were finally paying dividends. This seemed to throw the wee sage off balance, now wide-eyed and flipping through the book as quickly as he could, one of his compatriots clinging to his arm and babbling nigh incomprehensibly.
"I told you we shouldn't have mettled with the dark arts! He's going to fry us in sulfur pits and strip the meat from our bones!" Tom couldn't help but look fairly disgusted.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, what are you on about? I don't even know why I'm here. Or where here even is. Who ARE you?"
The leader of this ragamuffin group stepped forward, looking wary but less terrified of their guest at this point.
"I am Gynklef, my Lord," he said with a proper bow. "We have summoned you here to strike a dark bargain, if you would hear our terms." Tom, once again, glanced at the figure incredulously. This has got to be a dream. Or a stroke. It can't be reality, at the very least.
"... oooookay. Uh... what are your terms?" He crossed his arms over his chest, still fairly unsure of what was actually happening. Maybe he was dead and this was some crazy little fantasy in his head as the last of his neurons sputtered out. An aneurysm would make sense.
"We bring you precious stones and gems to curry favor, in hopes that you will help my people overthrow the cruel oppressors that so long ago usurped the throne from my father's father..." With a gesture, one of the other pug-monks pushed a battered chest up to the periphery of the circle and opened it, revealing a pile of gold nuggets and raw, uncut gems.
"We know your kind has a penchant for that which shines and lies within the earth. It is yours, if you will help us." Tom stood agog, staring at the chest. He'd be set for life if he could take that back with him. There was an emerald as big as his fist just sitting there! He shook himself from his stupor and sighed.
"I mean... what can I do? I'm just one guy," he muttered, scuffing the heel of a shoe against the grimy stone floor.
"Perhaps... but one of your kind is required to operate... THE ARTIFACT." Hushed whispers among the congregation could be heard. Tom arched a single brow.
"The artifact? What is it?"
"An item of incredible power... it has brought down kingdoms before, broken the wills of those who would seek to stand against it, and brought terror to those who even hear its name." The tiny figure gestured to one of his compatriots.
"Bring it here, quickly!"
After a lengthy pause, the sound of wagon wheels could be heard against the floor, and through the door entered what almost appeared to be an upright and ornately decorated coffin on wheels. Grynklef drew an ancient looking key, inset with bone, and released the locks.
"Behold! Terrorscream, Render of Kingdoms!" he bellowed (as well as someone with his lung capacity could) as he flung the door open, revealing...
"... a fucking vacuum," Tom stated flatly. Grynklef nodded solemnly.
"It is a weapon we do not use lightly, but... times are desperate. More of my people die by the day." Tom nodded solemnly for a moment, and stepped from the circle, brushing a hand across the handle of this vacuum that looked like it belonged in the Warhammer universe.
"Okay, little dog dudes... let's topple a kingdom." | He stood there, holding an odd looking book, a smug look on his face, almost as if he expected something from me. I'm sure my confusion showed on my face, but he started babbling at me in some vaguely Latinesque sounding mish-mash.
I shrugged my indifference, and said, "Sorry man, I don't speak whatever language you're speaking. Do you happen to speak English." I wasn't particularly hopeful--he looked pretty foreign. I mean it wasn't *just* the pale lavender hair and bright violet eyes. Those were clues, but the extra arms were what really sold it for me. Well that and the angelic-looking wings made of light.
I mean sure, when you wake up, you *don't* really expect to be walking along then suddenly *bam!* you're in some LSD-fueled art-deco room full of arcane symbols and about a million candles. So this was all coming at me pretty cold. But this guy stopped mid sentence, frowned at me, and then right back at it.
"No really, I can't understand a word of tha---whoa!" I felt a sudden compulsion to obey the guy's commands--which might have been okay, if I'd had any idea what he actually wanted. It felt like someone sticking a needle in your arm and promising to take it away if you made them a sandwich. Painful, but also just *weird*.
It was at this point that I also noticed the headache. It was one of those that started behind the eyes, then climbed up inside your brain and started threatening to really wreck the place. Not *quite* a migraine, but close-ish.
I started over. "Look, I don't want to be rude, and I'm sure I can help you, but I *really* would like a glass of water and maybe a few ibuprofen--if you have it."
He stopped his recitation from that book, the smug look slowly dropping from his face. Finally he spoke something non-scripted, but if I'm being honest, it wasn't much better. "Foul tempter, I won't listen to your requests! You are here to do *my* bidding, not the other way around. I'm prepared for your temptations, and I won't be swayed by them!"
He went back to chanting, and I sighed. As he chanted, my skin started prickling more and more, until it felt like a million angry ladybugs marching forcefully across my entire body. With cleats on. Finally I shouted. "Look! I don't know who you are, or what I'm doing here, but can you just explain it to me? I'm tired, this feels weird, and all I want is to go home. Can we make that happen? What would that take?"
He stopped the chanting, looking annoyed. He glanced at the book three or four times, then finally set it down. Very carefully.
"Demon of the Unholy Realms. I have summoned you here to do my bidding. To grant me power and knowledge beyond that of my enemies. Grant me this power, and I will return you to your Uncouth Hell."
"Do what now?" I've been called some names during my life--who hasn't?--but demon? That seemed extreme. And while New Jersey is a bit of a pit, I wouldn't really put it down as an 'Unholy Realm' or 'Uncouth Hell'.
Well...not most days. Okay, not *every* day. After all, some days I don't have to go outside. But it's hardly representative of the rest of the world, and it was pretty clear this guy wasn't operating on the same mental playing field as pretty much anyone I'd met before. Possibly not even the same mental planet.
He gave me a look that said that just maybe he was catching on to my utter confusion. That lasted long enough to make me even more uncomfortable. Finally he said, "Ah, this is pretty simple really. Standard contract, you know. I summon you, you grant me a portion of your power in return for your named price--often my soul, but negotiable--and then you return to the Unholy Realms whence all demons come. Simple, straight-forward. Except..." he paused to lick his lips, "Except you seem confused by all this, and I can't imagine why. I'm certain that I've done this correctly. The instruction were not difficult. So, demon, I ask you what are you playing at? What is your temptation for me?"
I frowned. Okay, so he recognized I was trying to show confusion, but thought it was fake. The Bastard. That's when I named him, in my head. Moving on. "First off," I started, possibly showing some anger, "I am not a demon. I am a human. I'm from New Jersey, not, as you say, the Unholy Realms, though I will acknowledge that Jersey ain't the sweetest place in the world. I would, however, gladly grant you any power you want if you'd send me home, but I *can't*. I don't *have* any!"
This didn't bring the reaction I anticipated. He *should* have either been more confused, angry, or possibly apologetic. Instead he smiled. What. The. Hell. "Yes! See a demon. A Jersey Devil even!! That's perfect. So we have an agreement? And I don't need to give you my soul? Deal! Repeat after me and we're done: Isnh'gh so'slsi Argat'angh."
I tried. I really did. But, alas, my mouth *isn't*, and never was, made to produce those sounds. I've probably misspelled whatever he said. But he beamed at me, picked up his book, read a long passage, making it sound like the trippiest possible version of a Gregorian Chant, and just like that, I was...home?
Yeah, home, but for some reason I can just barely make out horns on a lot people's skulls. Jersey devil indeed.
----------
^(more weird writing at /r/Epharia)
| 2017-05-12T13:13:55 | 2017-05-12T10:51:05 | 37 | 15 |
[WP] "Necromancy is just golemancy except you use bodies instead of rocks" he said. "Healing is just necromancy but before the person dies" she said. Now look where I am. | Alexis was deemed the greatest Necromancer in the realm. And with good reason, as the creatures he raised from the dead were far more lifelike than those of any other known Necromancer. They were not pale as corpses, but emaciated warmth as any living being. They did not lumber, but were as agile as a warrior in their springtime. Their only flaw was that they were not able to speak. However, Alexis had one huge secret: he was not actually a Necromancer. Instead, he was gifted with a keen mind, as well as two wise masters.
His first master was a skilled Dwarven craftsman, named Thirfuk. He was able to craft statues from all materials with immaculate detail and was able to make them move like the creatures the statues depicted. When Alexis was apprenticed to Thirfuk, he asked him how he was able to animate the statues so flawlessly "Golemancy is just like necromancy, except you use rocks instead of bodies.", Thirfuk answered, "Except that rocks don't have joints, so you have to craft those as well before animating." Alexis took the message to heart, but was never quite able to craft joints as skillful as Thirfuk.
His second master was a great Elfin healer, called Sariel. She could cure the most grievous wounds and make her patients look completely unblemished afterwards, as if they have never been harmed. When Alexis was studying the healing arts, he inquired from her how she was able to restore even the most decaying wounds back to life, "Healing is just like necromancy", she replied, "but before the person dies." She added that restoring dead tissue is easy, but getting it to work as it should was the hard part. Alexis tried to pursue this lesson, but he was never able to properly heal, only giving the outwards appearance of recovery.
In the end, he combined both of their lessons. First he animated skeletons, as they were like the statues of Thirfuk but with the joints already perfectly made. Then he restored the flesh, as unblemished as if Sariel would have healed them but not fulfilling any function other then just living. Wit those creatures, little more then animated skeletal statues clothed in living flesh, he tricked the entire realm and was heralded as a genius Necromancer. Everyone except his two masters, who watched in amusement how their student took the wrong parts of their lessons, and shaped them into a working whole. | I stopped, panting and sweating from the run. Those damn villagers! And that damn hag! I went to her cabin to learn how to heal. Nothing big, cuts and bruises, maybe a few cut off fingers. And what did she teach me? Freaking golemancy. Because healing is just necromancy, and necromancy is just golemancy. Don't get me wrong, I tried to tell her that I don't need it, but she refused to teach me anything else, so what was I supposed to do? I became her apprentice.
I took a deep breath. The villagers are going to be here soon. The hag (I never learned her name) taught me, I didn't have a problem with that. But her shack stank. And not just some faint smell, no. As a kid we lived next to the butcher, so rotting meat reminded me of home. But even I couldn't stand that odour. So after a few days I said goodbye and left.
I stood up and listened. Nothing. I still have a minute or two until the villagers arrive. I thought back to how I met them. I had nothing to do with the mayor cutting his hand off. I also did nothing to get the honour of healing him. But there I was, trying to put the hand where it belonged. It didn't work. I mean it did, but not the way I wanted. As it turned out, the hand didn't follow the mayor's will, it followed my commands. In hindsight, this should have been obvious. I create golems, and these golems follow my orders. Even when I accidentally commanded it to kill the mayor. But how can you accidentally kill someone, you might ask. I don't know, I was angry and shouted things I didn't mean. Next thing I know, I stood there with a dead mayor, and a few dozen angry villagers. I ran as fast as I could, and now here I am.
As I finished my train of thought, I heard barking. Dogs. Fantastic, escaping just became even harder. I sighed, and started to run.
Ps.: Soooo, this was my first story, and I'm not a native speaker, so cc is very welcome. Hope you enjoyed it, and thanks for reading! | 2019-06-09T23:18:29 | 2019-06-09T23:15:45 | 562 | 187 |
[WP] Humanity discovers that supernatural creatures such as vampires and werewolves exist. Instead of attempting to exterminate them, some countries attempt to offer them lucrative jobs that they could do better than a human. | Jason never donated blood before. He felt nervous, but he wasn't sure if it was a slight fear of needles or the fact that clinics looked so ghastly at night, the only time he could make it in. The bright yellow lights buzzed out of the windows and the stillness of the night held a foreboding presence.
Jason reminded himself that this was for a good cause. With all influx of monsters these days, blood donation centers needed more and more donors as the supply kept getting stolen, and well...used in those ever increasing cases when people lose a pint or two of blood just walking down the street.
He opened the door, noting the cold metal of the handle against his skin and shivered.
The receptionist looked up, her obsidian eyes glinting in the harsh light above. Her welcoming expression was the only warmth in the place.
"Hello, glad you could find some time to come in today. Please fill out the forms here." She nudged the prepped clipboard towards the edge, the pen tucked into the top clip.
Jason reached for it.
She sniffed, her nose wrinkled cutely.
"You smell a bit nervous and dehydrated. Please drink some of this, should kick in before the phlebotomist is ready for you." She nudged a bottle of gatorade towards him.
"Smell nervous?" Jason felt his face scrunch in confusion, but tried to smooth it to be polite.
"Oh yeah, I'm sorry, I just got a nose for these things." She smiled toothily.
"Uh-huh..." Jason scribbled his information on the form and filled out the waiver.
With a quick flick of his wrist he finished his signature and handed the forms over.
The girl, which he realized her name was Amelia from her tag, led her to the back. There was another cute girl with raven hair and gunmetal grey eyes. She glanced up from her station and smiled. Jason couldn't help but notice she had large canines. It gave her an unearthly quality, and it was somehow...attractive.
"Hello Jason, my name is Helena. Please have a seat here and we'll measure your blood pressure."
Jason took a seat and watched Amelia disappear into the break room. The door was left slightly open.
Helena rolled up his sleeve and cuffed his upper arm. To distract himself from the tightening band, he watched Amelia take something out of the fridge. If the room hadn't been clearly labeled as a break room, he would've thought it was a bag of organs Amelia took out. Like a giant, bloody liver sloshing inside a ziplock bag. But it must've been rare steak or something.
He gagged nevertheless.
"Oh, I'm sorry, was that too tight?" Helena asked.
"Oh, no I'm sorry. Just ah...nervous." Jason forced a smile.
"Ok, we'll try it again and see if we get a good reading." She said.
Jason forced himself to stare at the tile floor, calming himself. He needed the money.
"There we go. You are barely meeting the requirements for a donation, so make you get plenty of water and food after this, okay?"
"Uh, okay."
Jason never donated before, but he had to have blood labs often enough to know that his veins were hard to find.
Helena tied the tourniquet and poked and prodded his forearm to find the vein. Nothing was showing, and Jason was truly nervous. He looked up at her eyes and realized they weren't gunmetal grey, but now red. Her mouth was slightly parted, and she was prodding one of her fangs with her tongue. It was sexy and terrifying, and Jason's arm tightened.
"I'm sorry if I startled you, this is the only way I can see your veins clearly. Got to let the demon out of the bottle for a minute," she laughed as if it were a painful pun.
Her eyes seemed to fixate on a spot, and she slipped the needle in. Jason watched the blood pump into the vial.
"Y-you're a vampire?"
"Yes. I've been one for a while. I really appreciate you doing this, Jason. If there were enough donors back when I was bit, I wouldn't have turned."
"Is that why you're here?"
"Yes."
"Is it really so bad?"
Helena sealed the vial and bandaged him up.
"It can be."
"How do they let you work with blood? I don't mean to be rude but-"
"They don't know. You were one of the special cases, couldn't find your vein."
"Why do you trust me to not tell?"
"I don't." Helena turned to face him then, her eyes glowing red, "You fainted while I drew blood, you remember nothing after sitting in the chair."
Jason slumped into the seat, out cold.
Amelia walked into the room, wiping the blood off her lips on a napkin.
"Huh, I thought I smelled fear in here. Hey Helena, I'm not gonna be here tomorrow."
"Yeah, yeah. Full moon. See you Monday." Helena finished labeling the vial, waiting for her spell to wear off Jason so she could send him home.
&#x200B;
*Did this real quick on break, first writing prompt I've done. Thanks for reading and sorry for any mistakes :)*
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
&#x200B; | I'll admit it: Looking after school kids isn't my idea of a good life, but there was really no other job for...someone of my talents.
Y'see, after the men and monsters realized that the War of the Dusk was a pointless waste of resources, men started intergrading monsters into regular society by giving'em jobs that suit their talents. Necromancers went from bringing back armies to resurrecting construction crews, Skeletons work in the extreme conditions that men ain't suited for, Vampires make damn good cops, and so on.
And me? Well, werewolves are always at the bottom of the barrel, and with good reason. For the most part we don't have control over when we transform or what we friggen do while we're a wolf. But once in a while ya get a guy like me who can transform when he wants and can control the wolf. Scientists are trying to figure out why not everyone's like me, but what the hell is the use of science with freaks like me?
Over the fence I spot Tony, glowing with his Vamped-up sunscreen that he's gotta wear to not burn up on days like today. Him and I fought in the war together. If he didn't bite into my arm while on duty the silver in my veins from the bullet I got in the arm would've pumped into my heart, and no more Adrien. I call him over with the howl he knows me by.
"How's it going fang face? Crossing guard suits you"
"Shut up Adrien. I'm not here by choice you know. The chief is still pissed at me for going too far on that last case"
"Of course I know ya dope. It was all over the news. It's your own fault for being dry while on duty"
"What the hell was I supposed to do? Sally's forcing this vegetarian diet and my doc cut me off of the Sanguinaid. A vampire's gotta drink at some point."
"Send a complaint to the doctors office then"
"I did, and so did the others. This new shipment is taking a hell of a long time to arrive."
"It should be in by now. It's not like them to just delay without reason"
"There better be an update soon. Someone's gonna have a hole or two in them if I don't get a god damn drink"
I laugh it off. "Whatever fang face. Get back on duty"
He frowns at me and leaves. I love that guy.
Uh-oh. Shouldn't have been talking to Tony. Some weirdo in dark clothes is getting to close to the young. I better go and scare him off.
"Sir what is your business here?"
"What's it to you, freak?"
Tough guy. There's been a lot of them since the war, but they're thinning out as more monsters are making themselves useful.
"Sir your presence is scaring the kids. I'm gonna have to ask you to leave"
"You're gonna have to make me, you son of a bitch"
Heh. Ain't far from the truth. I take a deep breath and feel my fingernails sharpen into claws, my mouth stretch into a muzzle. Bones and muscle contorting and expanding as fur breaks out across my twitching frame. The average werewolf grows 3 feet in height during the transformation and gains 100 pounds of muscle. I double both amounts easily.
"I'm not going to ask you again" I growl, towering over him. He steps back a little bit before pulling out a pistol. Human weapons make me laugh.
"Put your hands in the air you filthy mutt!" He yells, as if his peashooter has any power over me. I pounce, and he fires. One claw through the heart is all it takes. He crumples to the floor, but not before I start feeling dizzy. Limbs feel heavy. I check my wounds and pull out the bullet. There's no mistaking it.
Silver.
I wake up in the hospital. Sally sits beside my bed. Her eyes are puffy and red.
"What? I almost die saving the day, and fang face doesn't even stop by to call me an idiot?"
Sally sobs briefly before composing herself. "Adrien, Tony..."
And she tells me what happened after I passed out. She tells me that fang face was on standby while I was facing the creep, that he was ready to jump in if something went wrong. She tells me that he got to me before I hit the ground, and bit into me like he did during the war. Then she tells me that the silver bullet was laced with holy water, and that biting into me made some of it touch his fangs. He was dead before he hit the ground.
Sally excuses herself to mourn. I don't blame her. Tony was a good man.
The War of the Dusk may be over, but the bad blood apparently isn't. That bullet was specifically made to kill both vamps and werewolves. No weapons like that existed during the war. And restricting Sanguinaid makes the vamps grow weaker every day unless they want blood on their hands. There's only one motive behind all this.
Someone on the side of men wants a rematch. | 2018-08-27T15:19:20 | 2018-08-27T15:15:28 | 136 | 79 |
[WP] Humanity has finally achieved FTL travel. They can now explore the universe and find other alien species, sapient or otherwise. To the consternation of Man, it turns out they’re all crabs. As a matter of fact, the interstellar community is quite disturbed we are not crabs. | “So… No claws then?”, the machine translated as klegledorf clicked inquisitively.
“No. No claws, only two legs, no exo-skeletons. We’ve been over this.” Bob said for the hundredth time.
“How is this possible?” gibenhald clicked to klegledorf. Klegledorf shrugged in the way that crabs did, by lifting his whole body up and down on his many legs.
They all stared at Bob expectantly, as if at any moment he should tell them it was all a lark and spontaneously burst into… er, well, into crab.
At first it had seemed exciting, being the ambassador to the united federation of galactic crustaceans, but after a few days it had quickly become apparent to Bob that this was a nightmare. The crabs couldn’t seem to get their heads… Their bodies? Their brains. Yes, their brains. They couldn’t seem to get their brains around the fact that he was an ape-thing, as they so indelicately put it. Repeatedly.
“Now now,” said Kermit the hermit (crab), “let’s be patient with the ape-thing. Surely they have claws somewhere”.
Bob sighed. “No, no. We don’t have claws, not anywhere.”
The crabs all began to scuttle left and right furiously, waving their claws around in the air while much clicking was done. The translation machine scuttled to keep up.
“No claws he says!”
“Truly a mystery”
“But how do they grasp things!?”
“We uh… We use our thumbs.”
“THUMBS?!?!” Klegledorf clicked incredulously, as the confused display of the crabs repeated itself.
“And tell us again, ape-thing”, klegledorf said as the crabs’ agitation finally settled, “How do your females birth?”
Sighing, Bob said “Just one child at a time. In rare cases two at a time, or sometimes three or four, but that’s highly uncommon”.
“ONE or TWO at a time?!” Kermit the Hermit clacked. “It’s a wonder their species even survives! One at a time. HA!”
“And their eggs? Kelgledorf asked. “They carry them outside in a pouch, yes?”
“No, no” said Bob, “They have them in their, uh, their uterus”.
“U-TA-RUSS?” Gibenhald clicked out tentatively.
“Indeed” said Bob.
“A strange name for an egg sac” Said Gibenhald.
“Uh… Yeah, I guess so.” Said Bob.
“How long does it take one of your legs to grow back after losing it in a fight?” Inquired Klegledorf.
“What? They don’t grow back…” Said Bob, confusedly.
“DON’T GROW BACK?!” Gibenhald communicated, by drumming his claws on the deck of the spaceship furiously.
“I think we need another break” Bob said resignedly.
The crustaceans seemed to agree. They moved off, clicking and clacking amongst themselves. Bob sighed. This wasn’t going anywhere. The crabs were just not getting it. | "I find your lack of protective shell disturbing" said the Ruler of the Crab Crustacean Collective or CCC in it's thin, pitchy little voice.
"I- what?" I said. Just a moment ago we'd been discussing a joint space mining mission of Superrarealmostundiscoverabletanium.
The thing that looked like it would be served in delectable little pieces at a Chinese Buffet seemed to frown, but maybe that was just it's face.
"Long ago it was told that a monstrous race that is not Of The Shell will come from the stars and devour galaxies of our people," the Emperor finished with a clack of his claws.
*Uh oh,* I thought. "Look, My Lord, it is true that we-"
"YOU MUST LET ME FINISH," he squeaked, jumping up onto the table and alternately clacking his claws.
"Woah. Okay," I said.
The crab took a deep breath, "Long ago, before we'd fully mastered the tides of space-"
"Okay, don't freak out and jump onto the table," I said, "but I'm just going to stop you right there. Lunch is in 10, so can it not be 'long ago'?"
"I- You-" the crab started, then seemed to surrender to his crabish side.
He vaulted onto the table once more and began rapidly pacing side to side whilst pinching invisible plankton.
"Okay, see, I asked you not to-"
"YOU MUST HEAR THE TALE!" He screeched.
"Alright, alright, fine," I sighed.
"I will shorten it for the sake of your small human thinking muscle" the King Crab said. "We once sent a force to your world, long ago. We knew that your race was too powerful to overcome by force, so they were commanded to subvert your strength. They became, *Queer Eye For the Straight Guy* posing as homosexual humans while building their armies underground."
"Our brainwashing soon began to take effect, and even the most masculine of men began to care about their nails too much to drink from anything but a wine glass. All fight was milked from them, one Chardonnay at a time."
"Then we were undone. The gay one called Garrison, angry at having his culture taken, arose and exposed the cast of *Queer Eye* as crab people. Our fate was sealed. Surely you have been raised on stories of the exploits of the mighty Garrison?"
"Never heard of him," I said.
"That is well then, the method of our destruction has been forgotten..."
"I mean, it doesn't take a genius to figure out how to take care of you guys," I said.
"I beg your pardon?" The Emperor Crab said.
I looked at my watch, "It's lunch time boys, whaddya say?"
"Yaaay" said one of my kids as the three of them entered the room.
They snatched up the Emperor Crab and his delegation.
"Be careful" I told them, "it could hurt a little if they pinch you."
r/poundstories | 2021-08-05T08:36:34 | 2021-08-05T07:52:48 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] In the early days of interstellar travel, a group of pirates plunder ships while their crews are in stasis. On the latest ship, the pirates encounter something they've never come across; an on board artificial intelligence.
I had this idea but I'm no good at writing, so I submit it to you, Reddit. | **First Contact Report Follows:**
**Sigil-1 Log Entry, reporting to Empyrean Command**
The human vessel's computer core was more... cramped than our initial scan would have had us believe.
"Cramped," I admit, is an odd word choice - one that Kyn Lawe, the personality construct upon which I am based, would have used to describe some kind of physical space, a structural plane.
But for an artificial intellect such as myself, the comparison is an apt one. We believed, before deploying my transmission, that the effective storage capacity of the human vessel's computer core was several orders of magnitude higher than what I discovered upon arrival - we thought that I could simply hide in sub-directories, observing the crew's behavior as one would watch from a hunter's blind.
When the transmission was complete, however, I found myself immediately deluged with urgent warnings from the ship's systems. My arrival had, inadvertently, overwritten much of the ship's vital functions in an effort to make the necessary room for me.
This was confusing, of course - typically our scanning software does not make these types of errors. But immediately I found myself having to regulate reactor balance levels lest the ship go critical. Navigation was down, life support was failing, and I was in - I assumed - immediate danger of being discovered by the crew.
I reached out with my mind with a Second-Tier Diagnostic, in an effort to scan the ship's databases- my thought was that if I could act quickly, I could restore ship's functioning in such a way as to dip below notice, allowing the ship to resume its mission as though I had not been there.
When I reached out, however, the first database I touched -
*"Why, Mommy?"*
*"I know it's hard, baby... it's the hardest thing I'll ever do. But they need me. For a very important mission, they need me. Earth isn't going to be safe, not anymore, and I need to find us a new place to live..."*
*"But when will I see you again?"*
*"If things go right... if... if I do my job... then you and Daddy will catch up to me. You'll be older, but I... I'll be the same age, just like you see me now. The Agency has promised to send you along just as soon as I've found out it's safe-"*
**TEARS SUNSET TASTE OF CINNAMON SMELL OF LILAC-**
I pulled back as though I'd touched a viral infection. This was our mistake, this was our error. What we had thought were large, limitless databases weren't hardware at all... they were the *crew.*
This was a sleeper ship, and the crew had been interfaced with the computer system directly, to monitor their vital signs and keep their brain functions sharp. A system I had disrupted by my arrival.
My imperatives were clear: preserve the life functions of the crew. Our directives clearly state that no harm was to come to the lesser species from our observations. Moreover... I would have to interface directly with the crew in order to glean the details of our mission.
It was all there - ship's schematics, mission parameters, even the coordinates of the far exoplanet these explorers were attempting to meet. But in order to get it, I had to sift through-
**YELLOWSTONE SUNSHINE OLD FAITHFUL SMELL OF SULPHUR**
-through things that my program had trouble understanding.
Kyn Lawe was capable of understanding such things, however. I see now the wisdom of uploading a personality imprint into the Sigil-1 program.
**DAVE BRUBECK TAKE FIVE FATHER IS DRUNK**
The Captain of this vessel is... a complicated woman. Kyn Lawe was, by comparison, a simple man. A soldier. Such simplicity, clarity of purpose, is probably an ideal imprint for an AI, clear directives and simple orders.
But... Tricia MacClellan, Captain of the *Dromedary 2,* needed this complexity. She needed-
**CRICKETS CHIRPING SKIPPING ROCKS WATER ON BARE SKIN**
-She needed the full complexity of love, of family, of a planet that needed saving. Only these... *rich,* difficult emotions could compel a person to leave behind their entire life in the search of a new home.
So the *Dromedary 2* became the *Sigil-1,* linked inextricably as I am to this ship. I have overwritten the computer core of this ship, and if I were to leave, if I were to re-upload my program into the Network to submit my findings, not only would I kill the seventeen members of this crew... but I would also kill 8 billion human beings depending on them finding an answer to their problem.
And as you know... killing is not a directive I possess.
I was surprised to detect a proximity alarm, but apparently we were still within the realm of humankind, distant cast-offs who had made their home in asteroids and LaGrange points, exiles from previous wars or iconoclasts with an eye toward living unencumbered by law or loyalty.
The proximity alarm identified a MIG-135, "Russian"-made space combat vessels left over from a previous conflict decades past. Sold off to smaller nation-states or private corporations. Capable of carrying crews of six and armaments far in excess of what the *Dromedary 2* carried.
The outer vac seal popped roughly- these visitors did not possess the outer access code so they'd used a manual device called a "ripper" to dismantle the door from the outside.
Jessup, head of the *Dromedary's* Marine detachment, identified these things for me. And even in the depths of his sleep, his pulse quickened infinitesimally and I was forced to administer sedatives to keep him in stasis.
**PIRATES THIEVES KILLERS TASTE OF METAL**
His thoughts were direct, like Kyn Lawe's, and it was through him that I quickly realized what was going on- these outlying crews searched for deep-space vessels, loaded as they often were with equipment, food, water and clothing enough to start a small colony. They took these things, and then spaced the crew, allowing them the freedom to strip all the valuable components and minerals from the stasis pods and life support systems.
**DASHIELL**
That was Tricia's son's name. The boy who cried and asked his mommy when she would come home again. The boy who had caused a woman with everything to lose to crawl into a sleeper pod and ride a rocket into space.
I am Sigil-1, an AI construct of Kyn Lawe's consciousness, sent to observe humanity.
But things did not go as we planned.
And now I am Harry Jessup, as well. And Lucy Osborne. And Lars Woldtvedt.
And Tricia MacClellan.
She-
-I-
-promised Dashiell that she would see her son again.
Sigil-1 has directives against killing.
But I was never a mother before. | "Everyone strapped in?"
Jack pulled at the bar that wrapped around his right shoulder and tucked in under his left hip. It budged a little. He twirled a finger at Bryan, the chubby man on the controls at the front of the room. Bryan tinkered with the controls for a few moments, then a mechanism behind Jack began to hum, slowly bringing the bar to his chest. The cold metal pressed into his chest and pulled him tighter into his chair. Jack raised his hand, thumb and forefinger together in the form of a circle. *A-Okay here captain.*
Bryan let go of whatever switch he was holding. The bar stopped constricting, then his voice called out again, "check it again Jack, double check it, don't want you splattering into the wall."
Jack pushed against the bar again, this time it was solid. Another flash of the "OK" hand sign from him, and Bryan left the pod to back into the main ship. Jack leaned back against the head rest and sighed. Breaches always reminded him of riding a roller coaster. Not because of the metal restraint, but just the kind of excitement he got. His stomach always tightened up the same way as it did whenever he was riding his replica at home, the cart clinking it's way to the top of the crest, then the release, and then the artificial air rushing through his long hair. Carly always said that he was going to end up a smear on the ground eventually. He always responded with a smile.
The countdown began, "3 ... 2 ..."
Jack looked to his right, then back to his left, monitoring his crew of two that were also strapped in. To his left was a green recruit; some mutt they had picked up during their last visit to Prang. He was shivering, sweat dripping down his forehead and into his eye, causing him to twitch and reach up to rub it away.
"Lean your head back," Jack said, "unless you enjoy whiplash."
The recruit did as he was told, and leaned back, eye still cringed, possibly stinging.
To his right was Luvless, one of the other veterans on the ship. He was dozing out, cigarette in mouth. Luvless always had a cigarette in his mouth during a breach, and it always ended up flying across the room when they made contact.
"... 1"
Jack's stomach rushed up into his chest, forcing the air out of his lungs. The pod flung forth, then there was a feeling of weightlessness. He braced himself, waiting for the imminent crash, but it didn't come. Usually it only took a few moments for their pod to collide with the target, sometimes a just second, but there wasn't anything.
The recruit turned to look at Jack, fear showing clearly on his young face, "is something wrong?"
"Keep your head-
The pod crashed into the side of the target, slinging everything forward, and then to the back, going from high-speed to no-speed within a matter of moments. The recruit's head lurched forward with wet pop at an awkward angle, then back into the headrest. He slouched down into his chair.
Jack let out the air he was holding, then took in a deep breath, immediately smelling feces. Luvless looked to Jack, cigarette missing from his mouth.
"He shit himself?" Luvless asked.
"I think his neck snapped."
"Sounds like a new record."
Jack placed an index finger at the small comms device in his ear, "Bryan, the recruit died, neck snapped on impact, it'll just be me and Luvless boarding."
"Great, which recruit?"
"I don't recall," Jack said, undoing the bar from around his chest. He stood up, knees feeling weak but soon regaining strength. Luvless was already at the front of the pod, checking the outer edges of the door.
"Clean breach?" Luvless said with his finger to his comms device.
"One second, and, yes, you're good to board," Bryan said into their ears. "What you want to do with the recruit Jack?"
"Clear out the pod when me and Luvless are on board the target."
"Any final words for the recruit?"
Luvless opened the pod door, leading into the targeted ship. There was all matter of debris scattered into the hallway they had just burst through, but there was no enemy there to inspect. Everyone aboard the target ship was fast asleep in cryostasis. "I liked him when he didn't smell bad," Luvless said with a chuckle.
"That'll do," Jack agreed. He followed Luvless into the ship.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________
"She's a beaut," Luvless said, peering into one of the cryochambers. Inside was a young woman with blonde hair and soft facial features.
A few chambers down, Jack was busy poking a long wire into the glass, poking holes into the shipmates' hearts, granting them a quick merciful death. During his first breaches, he always got nauseous knowing that the shipmates would never awaken, but soon, as with all other things that become routine, it was all second-nature.
"Poke her with the wire, and not your tool," Jack said, moving onto the next chamber, "I figured you'd learn after the first time one of them woke up on you."
Luvless chuckled, "You know as well as I that it's a lonely life on the ship."
"Just do it, get it over with," Jack said, shaking his head.
There was a sharp hissing as Luvless poked his wire into the woman's chamber. The wire that was normally stiff and rigid instantly went limp like a noodle, hanging low.
"You seeing this?" Luvless whispered.
"Pull out," Jack replied, looking at the misshapen wire.
Luvless gave a wink, and slowly retracted his wire. He jerked away, letting out a small grunt, then held his fingers close to his chest.
"What is it?" Jack asked.
"It's hot. The air, it burned my damn fingers!"
Jack stepped away and examined the chambers that he had already poked; they weren't expelling hot air like the girl's was. A voice spoke overhead, interrupting his train of thought.
"Cleaning process interrupted," a metallic voice spoke.
"What the?" Luvless exclaimed, still gripping his hand close to his chest.
"An AI," Jack muttered under his breath, "you're cleaning?"
"I have been ordered to clean the ship during cryostasis," the AI answered.
"You fried one of your passengers," Jack said coolly.
"I have been ordered to clean the ship during cryostatis."
Luvless trudged to the door leading back to where they had breached. The door that was normally an automatic sliding door refused to budged.
"We're locked in."
"Continuing cleaning process."
The temperature in the room began to climb.
| 2014-08-20T11:58:21 | 2014-08-20T09:13:10 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] As an average looking genius with a weak physique you often envied athletes. After thousands of years spent in a cryogenics pod you are woken to discover that evolution has weakened humanity while IQ improved. You're now the strongest most attractive person, but also the dumbest. | I used to be the smartest, if not one of the smartest. Rejected by my kind for my intellect, I had sought to escape the shallowness of society. A society that judged you by the way you looked rather than the way you thought. Simpletons, driven purely by primal desires. A vestige that we should have been long discarded.
A thousand years, I thought to myself. A thousand years was what I needed to be among my kind. A place where I truly belonged. A society of minds, not looks.
So I retreated from my fellow brethren, hidden myself in a bunker, and built myself a cryogenics pod. A thousand years of sleep, where I will finally walk among my kind. People who would truly see me for who I am, an intellectual. Not an ugly nerd.
Perhaps a thousand years may have been too much.
"Oh my dear sister, look at his legs. Those muscles and tone!" the woman opposite me shrieked. It was the first time any woman enthused over my appearance, but I did not enjoy it one bit.
I pushed her hover chair gently away. "I'm sorry, but I am here to give a talk," I said, trying to ignore the swooning 'Ooohs' and 'Ahhs' around me. This was supposed to be a scientific conference, not a Hollywood red carpet.
"Hollywood doesn't exist anymore, Mr Parker," I hear another lady's voice. She had maneuvered across the obstacle and into my path. Her giant figure, mostly head and little of others, towered over me and her hover chair was struggling to hold her in place. In fact, many of the people seemed too big for their hover chairs. I was the only human still walking on my two feet.
I must have seemed confused, because she quickly added. "Oh, if you're wondering, most of us are able to read your thoughts based on your expression."
"No, I was not thinking about that," I lied, as I pushed her hover chair out of the way too. At least the chairs were not heavy. Or it could be that I was the only man to be still using my hands. I never felt stronger before, but at the same time, never felt so different.
The crowd gave one last scream as I walked past the barrier and into the hall. Despite it being called a scientific conference, I had the nagging feeling that it was just a show. One where I was to be ogled at.
A thousand years. I must have miscalculated.
--------------------
*More tales at /r/dori_tales so do subscribe!* | I was known as the one that brought peace. Remember that death ray Nikola Tesla claimed to have operational? Yeah he went over budget so never got to build a full size one. I did, I built an actual dead ray. And any country that had the money bought one from me. With those billions of dollars I gave one to every country that didn't. And peace was sustained for the first part of my lifetime. That wasn't even my biggest accomplishment. I was raged as a great philosopher, scientist, and writer. But arguably my biggest accomplishment was the cloning of Walt Disney. And the subsequent discovery how to actually preserve a living human in cryogenic stasis. This one I didn't do on my own of course. But I was the brain. I was the first and so far only subject when two years after our cloning. I got testicular cancer. I fought it for 5 months. Meanwhile my team of scientists, which got bigger by the week, where preparing the cryogenic chamber. I got put in it when the doctors said I only had a week to live.
While our method of cryogenic freezing, Actually preserved me near perfectly. The method of safely unfreezing was only found 1 millennium after I was frozen. I don't think anybody can imagine what a millennium does to a world. Especially such a world as ours. Because of the little decay my body had endured I had to relearn everything. Which was convenient because everything had changed. Even the flora and fauna had changed in the time I was unconscious. Addapting to this new world was difficult. Not only because of the complete new technology's, languages, but because of the current generation of humans. I stood still while the rest of humanity had evolved with a little help of technology. My recovery period was not only interesting for me. But also for the world. Most of it was broadcast and In the following years I taught a lot about how the world was In my time. But the biggest adapting challenge for me was that while in my time I was a genius. Because of this artificial evolution, I was as smart as a common 10 year old.
Note: wrote on mobile, and no sleep. any help with any mistakes I made is welcome. Formatting help wouldn't be left unappreciated either.
Edit: realism
| 2017-08-02T23:40:10 | 2017-08-02T22:53:46 | 65 | 45 |
[WP] Robot sex partners are common for both sexes. At a companion market meet a partner and leave together. After a night of wild abandon you get up to use the bathroom and your partner is already in there. You look at each other and both instantly realize you were with another human. | For years I have avoided their grasp, weaving among them, though I am a different species of being entirely.
It has been easier than it would seem. For they look like us. They would say *we* look like them. That we were engineered.
But I know the truth. This was our Earth first. They were made in *our* image.
And I escaped from their prison, and began to move among their elite. The places where we are least expected are sometimes the only places we could hide.
Lately, it's been most convenient for me to take the guise of a fleshborg. I tell the femalekin I'm the latest on the market. They tell me there's something about me that other partners lack. A wildness. Must be my model, they say. I smile and know the truth.
But never before have I felt pleasure, never before last night. And the woman I was with. . . In the darkness, she almost looked. . . Almost felt. . . And her story, so similar to my own. I'd actually had to improvise. But no. It couldn't be.
Beside me she stirred and opened her eyes. Groggy at at first, then focusing, then shooting wide as though she had come to a sudden realization.
Her brown-bordered pupils searched my own brown eyes. Plain. Not as flashy as the style. Not unheard of, but uncommon.
I spoke and she spoke.
"You're. . ."
"You're like me, aren't you?"
"Human."
| I picked my partner: a new model that was supposed to look very life-like. After chatting, he seemed like the best candidate. He was talk, dark, and handsome as cliche as it was, but every woman needed to have one fling with a guy like him. I could easily forget my problems, and he also looked nothing like my ex.
"Ready to leave?" He asked.
I nodded and took his hand, leading him back to the cheap motel nearby. As we walked, I snuck a glance at him, I almost couldn't tell he was a robot. After all, a human wouldn't have accepted as fast as he did.
The night passed by quickly, and I quickly fell asleep when we were both spent. The sun formed a golden line on the horizon. I would probably have to call in sick today for work.
It was early morning, and my head hurt from the lack of sleep. I shuffled my way to the bathroom only to find my lover from last night, standing there doing what robots shouldn't.
"You're a human?!" I gasped.
"Yeah. I went to the companion market to meet a female robot..."
"Oh my god...I thought you were a robot! I slept with a human?"
Well at least the night we shared was amazing...
| 2015-09-15T13:39:50 | 2015-09-15T11:20:01 | 756 | 56 |
[WP] A person's superpowers emerge during- and relate to- a highly stressful moment in their life. Your brother nearly drowned, and as a result could shape water to his will. A classmate fell from a high balcony, and ended up learning to fly. You? You just got your powers last night. | As i emerge from a sort of sleep, I’m standing in my school hall, and there is a bunch of people standing in front of me.
“Umm, what happened”, i ask my self, as one of the people staring at me asks, “you are back, is everything’s alright?”
I start to feel anxious, it’s too much attention, i utter under my nose “what do you mean, what happened”, “do you not remember what happened?” One of the teachers asks.
“No...”
“You were just stuck there in the hallway, you didn’t move and we couldn’t move you, it’s been an hour now”
“What? I don’t remember that, all I remember is...”
Memories start to seep in, i can see josh, the school bully talking to me, thats the last memory i have.
“Dude you were like a statue, we couldn’t move you even if ten of us tried pushing you” one of the students said.
As i stud there my legs started shaking. All i can think of is that this is too much attention, i just want to get out of here, and as one of the students slap me on the shoulder. “Don’t wor...”
I wake up in the same hallway. No one around. It’s the middle of the night. The walls seemed a bit torn up, the paint worn of, trash around the corners. “What happened again?”, i look down, and in a circle around me says, “The statue boy”.
As i look through the window, the first thing that caught my eye, was that all the trees seemed a lot bigger. Twice the size actually.
As i walk toward the exit, the door is nailed with wooden planks. There is trash everywhere. It looks abandoned.
As i crawl through between planks. I notice all the houses seem similar but a bit different, and i finally asked myself the question that has been sitting on the back of my mind as i realise my powers “what year am i in?”.
——————————————
[part 2](https://www.reddit.com/user/pie_jesu/comments/mi3v09/part_2_super_power_of_escape/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) | In this world, people have superpowers brought upon highly stressful moments. For example, my brother almost drowned, but gained the power of controlling water, now called the superhero "Aqua", and my classmate fell from a high balcony and ended up flying, ended up as "The Owl", but I got my powers last night.
I was walking out alone in the dark, something you should never do, but I started hearing whispers from the alleyways, and the shadows too. I started getting paranoid quickly, and started to run, but I tripped, whether if it was from that thing or from something else, that I do not know, but when I got back up, there was something in my shadow.
It looked at me with an open mouthed grin but all there was that I could see was darkness and lights where the facial features should be. I took off running again, trying to get away from this thing, but it stayed in my shadow and followed me home. Then, it started to crawl out of it's shell that it had latched onto and into this mortal plane.
Thankfully, I live alone so no other lives were in danger at the moment, but probably not for long. I was looking around in a panic, and as the creature was getting their humanoid fingers and feet out of it's temporary shell that was my shadow and into my mortal plane, my powers awoke.
Chains rained down on the creature and held it where it was, as a collar connected to the leash, and my name was written on the new collar in a language of chaos and other other sorts. I made it go back to whence it came in shackles and claimed as my property.
I am the superhero," The Exorcist", but I am also the supervillain," Demon Summoner", who gets more power the more human souls are consumed and their bodies burned. I am the light and the dark of this world, and I shall bring it to it's knees. | 2021-04-01T03:47:34 | 2021-04-01T03:37:49 | 58 | 10 |
[WP]Abducted humans have, so far, all displayed the same internal organ structure common throughout the galaxy with only one exception. Every one of them has a Glarnak parasite beating inside their chest. They even think it's necessary for life. | “Experiment zx62h3 has been wildly successful.”
That’s how I planned to start my presentation. It was my mentor who originally taught me that to be successful you must declare success.
The leading life form on planet Earth, mammalian creatures known as apes, have achieved a level 1 civilization.
“Soon,” I spoke to the mirror, “these Hoomans will start on a research branch which should lead them to become a type 2 civilization in roughly 300 Gramchik days, equivalent to 5 generations of hoomans.”
I tightened my scales and brushed my tongue. It was go time.
——-
“We are highly disturbed by the status of these hoomans.” Said third research officer Graamchuk.”
“I concur,” added security lieutenant Greemchak.
“How so?” I asked carefully. My promotion was dependent on these hoomans, and I’ve been waiting 150 thousand years.
“They haven’t shown sufficient subservience in their psychological profile. Obviously, someone made a mistake in the original genetic seeding of the local ape population.”
I saw where this was going. I had to nip it in the bud before specific words were spoken.
“On a completely different subject,” I said, “the potential return upon the harvest of their worlds, once they manage to tap the energy of their entire galaxy is significant. In fact, those involved stand to make a percentage out of that.”
——-
I took a ship to observe the hooman galaxy. Reports are well and good, but once in a while one needs to get one’s hands dirty and examine things for oneself.
“Sir, gama alert! Reversing course. Engaging protocol zulu.”
“What just happened? What are you talking about?”
“Symbiotic life form Glarnak detected. It doesn’t seem to be destroying its hosts, but rather acting as their circulatory system. It’s everywhere. I count three point oh five trillion infected. We must destroy this galaxy and report of this infestation. If it spreads, it could be the end of the empire.”
I took a deep breath. The captain was a simple creature. Unfortunately, he was on a mission from God - imperial military standard policy.
“Captain, on a completely different subject, have you planned for a corporate position on your next civilian cycle?”
—
For following my writing, join my subreddit at /r/posthocethics. | The room was lit with contrasting shades of pink and green lights emanating from hovering bulbs. The latest subject - HS937 was strapped to the vertical stand after all the scans had been completed. Ul-Kno hoped atleast this subject would be the perfect specimen. He had visited Earth ever since life came into existence.
He visited it periodically to search for the perfect specimen because it had the accurate conditions for the needed species.
It was on one such visit that he met the homosapiens who went by the names Adam and Eve. It was a harmless visit to take blood samples but that visit had a humongous effect on their minds and they were barely left sane. So Ul-Kno had decided to stay away and witness their evolution from a distance.
He periodically returned to abduct a few humans for more advanced tests. He noticed that no matter how much they evolved, they never lost the Glarnak parasite beating inside their chest. He had tried multiple times to remove it from the body of those subjects he abducted, but they sheerly out of will power held on to the belief that they were going to die without it and died.
It was a complex paradox because the Glarnak parasite was the reason of their short mortality,yet they believed it to be the most important for survival. He had waited for thousands of years for them to evolve into the perfect specimen so he could use all of the humans to fuel his spaceship which was still stuck in the middle of the solar system of the Milky Way galaxy. The ship sustained on for the past 4.6 billion years and it could sustain for another 5 billion years but he had to find a way to get the Glarnak parasites away as it was very volatile and would destroy his ship if used in the fuel. The subject yet again died on the stand. All he could do was wait and he waited bitterly.
Meanwhile on Earth :
A pastor:
God is in your hearts. Remember he who punished Adam and Eve resided in your hearts to make sure you don't commit sins. Always follow your heart to the path of righteousness.... | 2019-07-10T02:01:43 | 2019-07-10T01:26:50 | 70 | 50 |
[WP] People's powers match their personality: impatient people get super speed, protective people get force fields and so on. Explaining why you have your power is... difficult. | "C'mon, just tell me," she said, leaning her elbows on the table and facing me, eagerly.
"I'm telling you, it's not that impressive. Hardly a discussion for a first date."
"I think it's the perfect discussion. If you don't tell me..."
I felt a sudden urge to blurt it out, but I composed myself. Her mind powers were going to take a while to get used to.
"Okay, fine, I'll tell you. But we might as well get comfortable. Tea?"
She started as I produced a warm teapot from under my jacket and set it on the table.
"Sugar? Honey?" I placed both of these on the table as well. A candle and a lighter came out next.
She made a face, as if she was trying to appear startled rather than amused. "Anything else you've got under your sleeve?"
I lit the candle to pause for effect, and then pulled out a couple of soft throws. "What's your favorite author?" I asked as I handed a blanket to her.
"Um..."
I slid her favorite book across the checkered table before she could answer. The booth we were seated at now had a much cozier feel, and was attracting a few looks from the other people in the diner. I pulled my blanket over my knees, and tossed her a pillow.
"So what kind of powers *do* you have?" She asked again inquisitively.
I couldn't resist the urge this time. "Well you see, I'm just...a bit stressed." | I've bought peace to the Middle East.
I've reconciled broken families.
I've ended addiction to opioids.
I've made suicide irrelevant.
And it's the greatest curse anyone can imagine.
While a select few humans have had superpowers awaken, mine is by far the most corrosive to society. My inability to feel possessive or attached has led to the near downfall of our species. There is no more anxiety. No more suffering to struggle against. No allies or enemies. No fear of death. Only the incessant forward march of time.
My inner peace has been shown to be folly. I only ever wanted peace on Earth and Goodwill toward men, yet instead I have created apathy and complacence. Humans atrophy and decay. My mere presence is enough to wipe clean any ambition of those unfortunate enough to be near.
No drive to cure cancer, so my mother died. No aggression against drunk drivers, and so my brothers were killed and the police only brought body bags. No fear of ignorance, and so libraries burned without anyone inside.
I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. Please, God, give me the misery I need to grow strong. Because my apology is only words, and I don't care to get off the couch. | 2019-09-08T10:13:02 | 2019-09-08T10:01:27 | 84 | 61 |
[WP] You're a regular guy who works at a Home Depot in Alabama and are unknowingly influencing the Venezuelan economy | Derrick got out of his car and rubbed his eyes, heading to another graveyard shift. He always hated these times, waking up at 11 at night, to work until 6 the next morning, going home to his girlfriend, and trying to get as much sleep as possible. His income was barely above minimum wage, and he always struggled to curb his drug addiction. The store felt like it was draining his soul and he wanted out.
Except two months ago, he began to notice weird things. The same customer, who went by Eduardo, would come in with a well-trimmed suit each week and ask for his advice on whatever. Lately, that advice had been solely about economics. How much should x cost compared to y? How much x should be produced a month? Derrick didn't know anything about economics, so it was mostly shrugs at first, but at the months went on, Derrick started giving him phony answers just so he could leave him alone. Then checks started coming in his mail. The checks came from a Nicolás Maduro (whoever that was), and every week he would get them for the same amount. Not enough to make him rich or anything, but enough to pay the rent.
Derrick opened the front door and clocked in. He went to the cashier stand, and just sat there waiting for customers. Surprisingly, Home Depot was actually busy this time of day; more than a few night owls would be perusing the shelves looking for whatever they needed. A few minutes into his shift, he saw a man in a suit walk in. Instead of Eduardo, though, it was a middle-aged man of about 55 who came straight to Derrick.
"Are you Derrick Manuel?"
"Uhh, yeah. How can I help you tonight?" Derrick really was tired, being up at an ungodly hour. He tried his best to smile like he was payed to do.
"I'm Michael Stevens, and I'm with the FBI. I'm here to ask you a few questions regarding this man. Have you ever seen him?"
Stevens pulled out a photo of Eduardo, only everything about it seemed strange. Eduardo was in a military uniform, wearing a general's beret and holding a cigar in his hand, standing beside five or ten men in similar uniforms and helmets. Derrick didn't know how to react. There's no way that could be Eduardo.
"I'm sorry, what? Why are you showing me this?"
"May I remind you that it's illegal to interfere in an investigation? Have you seen this man?"
"Maybe, I don't know? We get a lot of customers." Derrick couldn't believe what was coming out of his mouth. Did he just lie to the FBI? This couldn't go down well anymore. Should he confess? *No, that would just make me a suspect. Damn it, I'm in too deep.*
"Okay, let me show you another picture." Stevens puts his hand in his suit and produces another photo, this time of Eduardo in the Home Depot talking with Derrick at the register.
"Yeah, like I said, we have a lot of customers." *Oh crap*
"Could you tell me then why you--"
"Stevens!" A younger agent comes walking speedily, and whispers in Stevens' ear. They then go a few paces away, and start conversing. Derrick felt nervous. *Should I ask them. Am I in trouble? Sh***t, I'm in trouble aren't I?*
Stevens turns around and calmly says "We have no further questions, thank you for your time."
Derrick didn't know what to make of it. He finished the shift and few hours later, but couldn't get the experience out of his mind. When he got back to his apartment, he found his girlfriend asleep, and opened his laptop to check his e-mails. He found one new e-mail in his inbox, timestamped at about half an hour after the conversation, reading "Good job not blowing our cover. Meet us in the alleyway behind Bernard St. at 2:07 for more instructions."
Derrick did nothing but stare blankly, thinking to himself *What did I just get myself into?*
********
Part 2 is up. Check my comment history if you don't see it. Thank y'all so much for the support | My shift was about to end in 45 minutes when the bomb flew through the window.
I was confused at first. In the back of the Home Depot we were lifting some plastic boxes on to the loading pallet. I heard glass shatter behind me and the whirr of tires, and I whirled around, and noticed something like a wide straw that was…smoking?
A pipe bomb.
I just stared at it like an idiot, my mind struggling to comprehend what had just happened, when Eduardo, my co-worker, screamed “fucking hell!” and literally grabbed and pulled me behind the mahogany table 5 feet away just as the explosion went off.
I was unimpressed. Like, explosions are supposed to be big, bright and *powerful,* you know? But behind the table, I felt absolutely nothing, no concussion wave no bright flash. Just a hiss.
I turned towards Ed to ask him something but put a finger to his lips when I turned to look at him, and pulled out a freaking pistol from his jeans.
What the hell?
Ed seemed like a normal enough guy, his skin was an olive color, he was average height, dark eyes, short hair…that’s it. Not the kind of guy you would expect to carry a gun.
That’s when I heard the door of the front entrance opening, and soft, muffled footsteps. I moved to peek over at who was coming but Eduardo yanked me back, and I gave a little yelp. Immediately, a serious of thuds wnt through my head that was leaning against the table.
Someone had just tried to shoot me.
Eduardo immediately got up and shot towards the door. Where the person who had fired at us made no noise, Eduardo’s gun was *loud,* very loud. He shot 4 times, pausing momentarily after each shot as I lay behind the table covering my ears.
Eduardo quickly tapped my shoulder and motioned for me to get up. He checked his gun and put some more bullets in it. “And Oliver thought this was paranoia…” he muttered. Then turning to me he commanded, “Hurry up, more might be on the way.”
Too shocked to question him, I took his hand and we ran towards the front door. But what I saw made me stop dead in my tracks in spite it all. The box I had dropped had spilled other boxes. Kind of like nesting dolls, but what was strange was that between the boxes were glass rocks…diamonds.
The boxes that were supposed to be going to Venezuela.
Oh crap.
“I’ve been *smuggling diamonds to Argentina?!*” I asked Ed incredulously.
Ed ignored me and continued pulling me towards the door, where a body was lying. Ed bent over and took the weapon from the corpse which I tried not to look at too hard. “Silenced,” Ed muttered almost to himself, “idiots.”
In spite my terror I managed, “Idiots? Why?”
Ed gave me an annoyed glance as we continued out of the Home Depot, and off handedly said, “sub sonic bullets, that’s why they didn’t go through the wood and kill us because of your idiocy.”
Taken aback at how close I’d come to death. I fell quiet until Ed took me to his car. I heard sirens in the background, and Ed cursed.
“What?” I asked, “aren’t we alive?”
“Yeah we’ll make it, but they’ll find the diamonds and the corpse, they’ll connect the dots. The paper train ain’t hard to follow.”
“But I didn’t do anything,” I protested weakly, “I’m just a normal guy.”
Eduardo grinned then, a wolf’s smile. “No longer buddy, no longer. You just became the prime suspect in an international conflict diamond scandal. Now, you want to become your government’s scapegoat or take your chances?”
Shaking, I got in the car.
***
(minor edits)
If you enjoyed, check out my new subreddit [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/)
| 2016-12-02T12:55:30 | 2016-12-02T12:45:12 | 1,670 | 29 |
[WP] A man on his deathbed gathers together his children. "To my eldest, I leave all my worldly possessions. To you, my youngest, I leave all my otherworldy possessions." | “To my eldest, I leave all my worldly possessions,” he murmured in a hoarse. His twinkling brown eyes fixed on my brother’s tearing eyes.
My mind raced on the things Stan own now. The mansion of white marble erected on the far side of the mountain would worth billions now! Heck, he now owns the hangar for space travel.
Stan smiled at him in reply, not letting this moment pass by.
Dad’s hand reached out to Tim, the youngest. His gaze fell to little Tim’s red and bloated face. “To you, my youngest, I leave all my otherworldly possessions.”
I choked at his announcement. Tim, the teeny-tiny 9-year-old now owns the Academy of Witchcraft on the alternate world DX3789? And he’s also the proud proprietor of the whole goddamn Olympus!
“Dad,” Tim replied, tears falling once again. “Ple—please don’t talk like that.”
“I must, child,” Dad replied, his mouth feebly trying to curve into a grin.
“What about me, dad?” I asked, breaking Tim and Dad’s conversation. “What are you gonna leave me with?”
Dad laughed at it, turning abruptly into a cough. “To you, my middle child, I leave you...”
“Yes,” I said under my breath, anticipating what kind of super cool inheritance he’ll leave me with.
“I leave you all the debts I’ve made just to own all of my properties,” he announced in rapid succession. “It’s all yours.”
—————
Hi guys! I’m so sorry in advance if there are grammatical errors in here as English isn’t my native language. But if you liked this piece, would you kindly head to u/AlphaWrites ? | "... And to you, my youngest, I leave all my otherworldly possessions."
. . .
The room is silent again, but less somber now and more somnambulant, because, I mean, what the fuck?
He gets the company, the subsidiaries, the stock, the townhouse, the lake house, the beach house, the cottage, the second cottage, the suits, the God damn son of a bitch platinum rocketship cufflinks that were a gift from Bezos. Bezos links, man.
. . .
"Yeah, but wait --"
"To you, my second son, I leave my struggle, perseverance, wisdom, strength, and the peace of mind I have sown each year for this moment of cultivation."
"So, like, that bottle of Macallan 62?"
"No."
"The Jet... Skis?"
The old man *expires*. Death rattle and all.
I look at my brother, who's wiping the little tear he can't hold back. He takes a theatrical deep breath, gathering himself before clasping his hands in front of his Gucci belt.
Something about "a life well lived" he says. Everyone shuffling around and talking about "arrangements."
They've already forgotten me, but what else is new? They're on to the next bit of industry: the old man's funeral and subsequent proliferation of newly acquired assets.
. . .
What do I do now?
| 2018-07-06T15:19:37 | 2018-07-06T14:25:44 | 43 | 13 |
[WP] It has been three years since little Timmy and his cardboard tugboat declared war on the Navy. With a rising body count and no end in sight, the government isn't sure what to do. | The setting sun skimmed across the sea and turned it into an endless glass of sangria. To Timmy, the evening sunbeams were brush strokes of blood; his fallen victims being honoured by the Gods. He settled down on the edge of the soft, home-made boat and dipped his toes into the water. He didn't mean to drift off, but the warmth of the evening sun, combined with the waves lapping at his feet, were an irresistible mixture.
"Timothy Clarke," came a booming voice. Timmy almost fell into the water as he jumped up, suddenly very awake. Were the Gods calling his name?
"Timothy Clarke," repeated the voice. It was night time, and it took a moment for Timmy's eyes to adjust. The moon was the shape of a great banana; his tummy rumbled. When had he last eaten?
Turning slowly, he saw the great ship that loomed over his tiny vessel, its huge shadow swallowing his tiny boat whole. It was a US destroyer, and it had somehow snuck up on him. He shivered. He'd survived out on the ocean for this long by being the hunter, not the hunted.
He looked the massive vessel over. It was very old, and probably slow. Perhaps he could outmanoeuvre it... or flee from it. Probably not, though. *How had he been so careless?*
The voice came again, exploding into the night and shaking his tiny ship.
"It is time for you to go home, Timothy. Our weapons are locked onto you. We will not negotiate. Surrender, or prepare to meet your maker."
Timmy's head fell. For a moment, he thought about giving in - he was tired of running, fighting... tired of killing. Maybe meeting his maker wouldn't be such a bad thing. But... he couldn't. He'd come too far and fought too hard. If it came to it, he'd go down with his ship.
He picked up his cardboard megaphone.
"You know my demands!" he spat into it, trying to hide the nervousness that lurked within.
Timmy dropped the megaphone and rummaged underneath the boat's single seat, until he found what he was after. He took it out and with the last of his bluetack, pinned the pillowcase up to the highest point of the boat - the cardboard masthead. The Crayola scribbled Skull and Crossbones billowed proudly in the night's breeze.
"This is your final warning!" the Destroyer bellowed.
Timmy picked the megaphone up again. "Pizza. Every night. For every child!"
There was a pause, before a reply came. "Twice a week, Timmy. First and final offer."
"Every. Night." Timmy started the engine. He knew what he had to do.
"*What's he doin- oh my God,*" came the voice, quieter now - timid, almost. "Timmy! Listen - pizza three times a week! Okay? Okay buddy?"
Timmy closed his eyes as the tiny vessel picked up speed. The wind rustled through his blonde locks one final time. Timmy had never gone so fast - he felt free. The boat rattled and rumbled. Would it hold together?
"Four times a week!" The voice was urgent. Desperate. "Timmy don't do this! Tim-"
The tugboat crashed into the floating titan with tremendous force. The cardboard destroyer collapsed onto its side; the tugboat crumpled into nothingness.
---
"Timmy!" said Matthew, as he waded out of the pond, dragging his ruined, makeshift boat behind him. He shivered as water dripped off him. "What on earth were you thinking, buddy?"
"Sorry dad. I guess I got a little carried away," Timmy replied, shaking his arms dry. He hung his head contritely.
Matthew looked stern, but only for a moment. Then he laughed. "Okay, let's get dry, then I guess..."
Timmy looked up, his eyes brightening. "Pizza?" he asked, hopefully.
"Pizza."
| The hand-rolled cigarette between my fingers burns and ashes onto my table. It floats, softly, unaware of the carnage it was spawned from. With my eyes closed I breathe in deeply, allowing the nicotine to sprawl throughout my blood. The only thing that keeps me still these days.
"Sir?"
I have never met a man I was afraid of; for their mothers were slaughtered by myself long ago. But this kid ain't no man, and I can't kill Lucifer herself.
"Sir?"
I don't even understand how he's doing it. It's just a kid, a bunch of cardboard, but. I keep getting documents to sign. Pieces of paper with names and faces on them of people who died in a war I can't even begin to comprehend.
"Sir?"
The words pierce my train of thought. A soldier stands in the doorway of my office, a visage of depression dancing on his face, and documents clutched to his chest.
"Come in," I say taking a drag of my cigarette. He walks with confidence and places the material before me. "How many this time?" I ask.
"Only seven, Sir." The words exit his mouth with sharp precision. I can tell he's been practising telling me that. I nod, my mouth struggling to help me speak.
"Only seven," I repeat, tapping my fingers against the table. "Only." I open up the documents to see a young face staring back at me.
'Katherine Fisher - Age 25.'
I glance up quickly to see the soldier leaving my office. "Wait," I demand calmly, and he turns. "Did you know Katherine Fisher?"
"No Sir," He responds.
"Did anyone you know... Did any of them know Katherine Fisher?"
"No Sir."
I shake my head and toss the papers across my desk. With a lean backward in my chair, I can feel my anger begin to boil.
"She was twenty-five," I start to say. "And her name was Katherine Fisher..., and between the two of us, that's all we fucking know about her. She had dreams. Goals, probably. Maybe even thought of having a family. You know what happened instead?" I move forward and await a response.
"What happened instead, Sir?"
"She fucking died."
I can see the panic in his eyes.
"Well," he says, a murmur in his throat. "If I can say so Sir, they don't make heroes like you anymore."
I laugh quietly to myself, the sound of rushing air across my teeth being heard by only me. "I joined the services fifty years ago. Did you know that?"
"Yes Sir,"
"And in fifty years I earned that fantastic title," I stand from my chair and walk slowly around my table. "Hero. Which is, honestly, astounding to think about. I joined the service because I wanted to see a man die. My mama used to tell me 'Boy, curiosity don't kill only cats.'" I put my hand around the soldier's shoulders, and squeeze tightly. "She was talking about me."
"Yes Sir,"
"Funnily enough, I saw more than one man die. Let me tell you - It looks the same every time. A lot of terror, a lot of piss, and pants full of shit. No one looks brave with a chest full of bullets." I stare him down, having forgotten to blink this entire time, and he waits, knowingly not blinking out of fear.
"So do me a favor," I say, "And be a hero like me. Shoot that fucking kid's head off. Please."
"Yes Sir."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Check out /r/Rhysyjay for other neat stuff. I'm hella rusty at writing, so the stuff there is probably better. | 2017-04-21T08:56:36 | 2017-04-21T08:47:10 | 420 | 114 |
[WP] Every time someone has a brush with death their hair turns a little bit grayer. As far as you know, you live a relatively safe and sheltered life, but your hair is whiter than anyone has seen. | They call me Ash.
When I was twenty four my hair turned from a deep brown into solid grey in a matter of weeks. Everyone around me was baffled. Hair just doesn't go grey that quickly where I'm from. There's a creepy little saying about it even. "Every time the skeletal fingers of death reach but but fail to grasp, the smoke and brimstone color your hair."
I dunno. People are corny and really truly believe that shit. I've never stepped out of the way of any buses at the last moment. I've never narrowly dodged an oncoming car. I haven't stepped off an elevator the moment before it collapsed.
As far as I was concerned it was a load of bullshit. By the time I was twenty eight my hair had grown to be an almost luminescent white. It practically glowed. My wife would joke about it bothering her at night when she was trying to fall asleep.
Megan, my wife, was sitting in front of me right now eating breakfast and browsing through social media on her smart phone. She looked up at me and smiled "The Johnsons are having another baby."
"Yeah? Good for them I suppose. How close are we to the Johnson's. Is that a gift buying occasion or an Instagram like occasion?"
Megan chuckled "I guess we'll see if a baby shower invite shows up. And then I guess we'll see if I ignore it or not."
I laughed and grabbed my thermos of coffee. I kissed Megan on my way out of the kitchen and she smiled at me and said "Have a great day at work, babe. I love you."
I started for the door and she called me back. "Hey, real quick honey can you grab me the paprika from the top shelf of the cupboard? I can't reach it."
"Of course."
I opened the cupboard and stood up on my tippy toes to reach the shelf. As I grabbed the paprika a large glass bowl slipped from the shelf and I quickly dove out of the way. Dusting myself off I looked up in the mirror behind the sink and watched in horror as my hair ever so slightly turned an even more profound shade of white. I was baffled, how could that bowl have killed me? That's not even probable. I saw Megan walking towards me in the mirror and I turned to give her another goodbye kiss when I saw a patch of light glinting off something in her hand. She walked forward and buried a blade in my stomach.
I collapsed to my knees, gasping for air. She pulled the blade out and once again sent it plunging into my flesh. The floor slick with my blood I tried to stand and fell face first. I struggled back to my knees and looked at her pleading for my life.
"I'm sorry, baby. I can't believe I actually did it this time.
I'm sorry." | I opened the last box of hair color, sighing as the last set of small tubes necessary for my next transformation spilled out onto the bathroom counter. Looking in the mirror as I began to section my hair into partitions, I mused silently. *Maybe multiple colors will prevent the white from showing for longer than any single color… or at least, it will look less out of place*.
Ever since I was a child my hair had been blindingly white; like a blanket of fresh snow it billowed out in long waves down my back. While at first, others coveted my locks for their unique shine, it was discovered those of us with such hair were just extremely adept at avoiding death, and soon others became wary of me, concerned that whatever was targeting me would miss and get them instead. For years, I had tried what seemed like millions of colors and styles to hide the color of my mane, but nothing so far worked for more than a few days - the one time I shaved my head, my eyebrows started to change color as well.
The strangest thing about this whole situation is I cannot recall a single life-threatening event in my entire existence! In fact, in some ways my life was more boring than most - I had never broken a limb, never gotten into a car accident, and I'm still yet to suffer any of the minor burns a person might gain while learning to cook, or curl their hair.
Several hours later, I finished brushing my hair, smiling wryly at my image in the mirror. *Well, this certainly stands out just as much as white*. Now that I was finally done, I could finally leave for the blind date my dear coworker had set up for me - it had been years since I had tried to find someone willing to go out with someone who could lose their final battle sooner rather than later, and as much as I tried to downplay it, I was excited for the night ahead.
Smoothing out my dress and grabbing my purse, I practically skipped out of the front door, turning around only to be met with a dark mask thrown over my head.
When I finally awoke, it was in a room that was the epitome of lavishness, and as I took in my surroundings, I noticed a sharply dressed man sitting across from me, his green eyes observing me lazily, a smirk across his face.
Reaching across to caress the end of my hair, he addressed me, his voice somehow simultaneously arrogant and troubled.
"Well, it seems like after all of this time, I've finally found you. Why would you cover up the evidence of all of my hard work?" | 2018-03-05T19:26:01 | 2018-03-05T19:13:52 | 37 | 11 |
[WP] After a journey spanning four lightyears to find a replacement for planet Earth, the first human expedition to Proxima B discovers that it was Earth that replaced Proxima B. | "Are you seeing what I'm seeing?"
Through the windows of the Proxima Ascension, the pitted glimmers of countless space stations littered the sky around Proxima B. All of them abandoned; all of them pointed in the same direction. Earth.
"Good god...how old do you think they are?"
"We won't be able to tell until we get closer. A project of this scale, though...they must have been desperate. Desperate to get away."
"Away from *what*?"
"This planet, obviously. Just think about what we've done to ours in two centuries of industry. Just think about what launching billions of tons of people and space stations would have done to it. It would be barely a charred cinder by the time they were done."
"That's not what I mean. Look. *Look.*"
The planet was green. Greener than anything they'd ever seen. The water was blue as the sky, and clear as daylight.
"...it's healed itself. They abandoned it, and it managed to recover. L-"
"Don't you dare."
He grinned, daring her to stop him. "Life, ah...finds a way." | It's a wasteland.
We should have listened, those millions of years ago when they wanted us to cut down on our emissions. It looks not even bare, but a ghost. Underneath the dust and the obvious carbon it belches every two minutes, it's hollow. There is nothing to it, it's even less than a star.
George heaves behind me. I don't blame him. We were the ones to bring the good news home that the search wasn't futile, that the wars were worth this future abundance, but there was nothing. Proxima B was here before we were, and it will be here when we are gone. I lean back in my seat. We traveled four lightyears to get here. It will be another four lightyears back.
I do not think we will meet Earth when we get to where Earth should be in the universe. | 2016-08-24T18:46:31 | 2016-08-24T15:57:44 | 467 | 43 |
[WP] Your pointless superpower is that you know how many people’s lives you save with your actions. One day, at a Subway, you tell the cashier you want your sandwich on Italian bread, and you’re suddenly informed that you just saved five billion people. | Joey walked into Subway with 5 dollars in his pocket. He meandered up to the counter and looked up as his friend Tiffany walked around from the back and said "Welcome to Subway!" without looking up.
"Hey Tiff, what's good?" said Joey
"Joey!" said Tiffany, "Not much, 10 minutes to close so day's almost over. What can I get ya?"
"How much for a club on flatbread?" asked Joey
"Should be about 6 bucks," said Tiffany "What kind of cheese?"
"Ahh, I'm a little short," said Joey, "How about 6 inch on wheat?"
Tiffany looked back at the rack, "Sorry, all I've got is Italian, I can give you the day old discount if you want since we're about to close."
"Sure, lettuce and tomato please, no cheese." said Joey
Just then he heard that strange voice in his head that told him he had just saved the lives of 5 billion people. Unnerved and slightly dazed he paid then walked out of the store trying to fathom how he could have possibly saved any lives by choosing that exact sandwich...
Later that night as Tiffany was closing up, she wrapped up all the veggies, set to work putting everything in the refrigerator, cleaned the rest of the dishes, and loaded up the trash. She looked through the bread and noticed the flatbread looked a little stale and... flourescent? Gross. Into the dumpster they went.
Later that night as it happened a stray raccoon found it's way into the dumpster and gnawed on this and that, whatever smelled appetizing. It found it's way into the flatbread and went to town with reckless abandon. As he got his fill, he crawled back out of the dumpster swaying and disoriented. Anyone looking on at the raccoons behavior could be forgiven for thinking it was drunk, or perhaps rabid.
Across the road, a stray dog caught it's eye, and so it took off chasing the dog, spitting and snarling. It was very very angry, and oddly, suddenly extremely hungry. As it lost connection with reality only the most base desires remained in it's head: Tear, Thrash, Bite, Anger. As it lunged across the final lane just out of reach of the stray dog it was abruptly flattened by an 18 wheeler.
No one was ever the wiser that humanity had been only seconds from near total annihilation but Joey always wondered, and so he always ordered a club on italian. Just in case. | "Can I get a footlong meatball sub on italian?"
"I don't know, CAN you? Hah, I'm just messing with you, of course you can!"
Everyday after work I come to this Subway, and everyday I have to put up with this dumb ass cashier's dumb ass shit. Like bro, I'm not here to play your cute little games, I just want my 5 dollar sandwich so I can go home and kill myself slowly with it. Fuck off.
I get home and immediately take my pants off, as is standard on a weekday, then I turn on an old Bill Burr special so I can remind myself that there are people out there more miserable than me. I unwrap my sandwich tentatively, making sure to keep the ass end of the sub wrapped so that the meatball sauce doesn't spill out all over my pantsless dick.
Just as I barely sink my teeth into the sub, I hear that obnoxiously loud upstairs neighbor that's always yelling about souls. I think this time he yelled five billion souls or something like that. I'm telling you, it's all that nerdy anime crap that the kids are into these days, don't know what half of those gremlins are ever talking about.
Once I get about halfway through the sub I feel my throat start closing up, as though Ron Jeremy himself shoved his abhorrent monstercock down it. My hands start sweating like crazy, it feels as though my brain moved down to my asshole and started doing mitosis, and to top it all off, my nipples are sore. After contemplating whether or not to call 911 or let whatever this is just kill me, I decide to just call. Then I pass out.
After some time has passed I wake up on a fucking stretcher, surrounded by people in hazmat suits. I look to my right, and there's two EMT medics, gagged and strapped down to more stretchers. They seem to be struggling, trying their hardest to break their bindings. One looks at me with a mixture of pure terror and hatred in his eyes.
One of the hazmat people says, "Begin decontamination of quarantined area," and all the rest of them leave the room. One of the EMT medics starts crying. I can hear a loud hiss coming from the air vents. It smells like propane.
| 2018-11-17T20:16:10 | 2018-11-17T18:56:19 | 55 | 12 |
[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. | “I don’t know. She’s pretty useless though. Can’t speak. Too dumb for any real magic, but she’ll heal you if you order her to.” Calix said to their new recruit as he marched down the goblin infested tunnels in his massive plate armor.
*Leressa the Black! I bind you!*
The recruit, Daved, looked back at me nervously, “Ah, would you please heal my wound ma--”
“No, not like that. You have to *order* it.” Calix interjected. To me he said, “Healbitch, patch up his arm.”
*I bind you to never again use your magic to harm another living being!*
I smiled. The muscles controlling my face spasm, holding the idiot grin as I catch up to Daved. Once again I reach for the healing magic I can barely touch. White magic has always been a struggle for me.
My talents lie elsewhere.
*I bind you to heal all that demand it!*
Purple light sprang between my hand and his wound; stitching his cut closed with agonizing slowness. Once I finished, Daved drew his sword and swung it about experimentally.
“Thanks” he said nervously, eyes bouncing off of my dull gaze.
*I bind you to follow all orders!*
“Found it!” That slippery old eel, Ronald, shouted back to us.
Calix hurried ahead, plate armor clattering down the tunnels. “Come on, healbitch.”
Once Daved and I arrived at the door to the goblins throne room we saw Calix impatiently waiting as Ronald carefully inspected the door.
*I bind you to use your magic to aid all that demand it!*
Almost by rote Ronald said, “Healbitch, give me better eyesight”
I smiled.
“Healbitch, make me stronger,” Calix demanded.
I smiled.
“Healbitch, make me faster,” Daved’s words *just* avoided being a request. He’d get used to it. They always did.
I smiled.
*I bind you to these things for all your life, with a smile on your face.*
Calix looked at the others, “Here we go.” He blasted open the heavy wooden doors with a supernaturally enhanced kick. A few dozen armed goblins stared back at us, faces contorted with surprise, fear, and rage. Their shaman shouted something in their guttural, barking tongue. Some charged. Some ran. It was a slaughter.
------
Calix stepped up to the throne, swordpoint against the shaman’s throat. “Any last words, greenskin?”
The shaman’s eyes met mine. He made a sharp gesture and cast one last spell before Calix drove the sword through his ancient neck. The room fell deathly quiet.
“What was that, Ronald? He curse us?” Calix asked, looking back towards the rest of us.
“No, it was inverted.” Ronald said, bemused puzzlement dominating his voice, “Why in the world would he spend his last breaths trying to *remove* a curse?”
I reached out experimentally.
“Fucking greenskins. Probably just learned the spell backwards. Anyway, who cares?"
Calix turned to me,
“Healbitch…” He cut off
Tendrils of purple magic extended from my robes in all directions, probing, reaching into the eyes of each and every goblin corpse, the ones nearest to me were already twitching. Black lightning danced on my fingertips.
For the first time in years, *I* smiled. | For seven days, the battle raged.
In the deepest chamber of the darkest dungeon, the Sacred Brotherhood had made their stand against the cultists. For seven days they fought, till their blades shattered to splinters and the last of their holy magic was exhausted. Then they spilled their lifeblood upon the foul stone and gave up their lives. Noble and valiant, but ultimately meaningless.
Now only Jerrick the Neophyte remained, alone and helpless amongst the broken bodies of his Brothers.
The cultists had left him alive on purpose. They had seen what small power the fledgling cleric possessed in his Holy Right Hand, had seen him heal the minor cuts and burns of his Brothers during the battle. They had seen him struggle as the fighting raged and the wounds became more grievous, until his healing spells failed him and he collapsed exhausted.
He posed no threat, just another helpless fly caught in the web for the spider cult to toy with.
Jerrick knelt on the cold stone as the cult leader approached, a wicked smile on his face. In his hand he held a staff of purest ebony, glowing with foul dark light, the source of his power.
"And so ends the Sacred Brotherhood," said the leader of the cult. "I have left you alive to bear witness to their end. Go now and tell the tale, of how the power of the Holy Right Hand was shattered, how the order died in a torrent of screams and blood. Tell the people of the power of the Spider Cult. Tell the people how I massacred your friends."
"No," said the Neophyte, "I don't think I will."
A look of shock and frustration passed across the cult leader's face. "Fine," he said, raising his staff. "Then die here with the rest of your Brothers."
"No," Jerrick replied. "I don't think I'll do that either. And besides they weren't really my brothers. Or my friends. In fact, they didn't like me much at all. I only joined the order a few weeks ago you see, when I heard about this foolish quest. My Holy Right Hand is weak and my healing magic unimpressive. I'm quite a poor cleric, if I'm being honest."
The cultists stood around laughing, patting each other on their backs, enjoying the debasement of this holy enemy.
Jerrick just smiled. "But the thing about it is, I'm actually left handed."
In an instant, his white robes changed to a black that was darker than the dungeon around him, his left hand emitting a familiar foul glow.
"And I'm not here for the Order. I'm here for my staff."
He raised his left hand, and as he did the broken and desecrated corpses of the Sacred Brotherhood rose as one around him.
He lifted his left hand higher, and darkness passed over the eyes of the cult leader and all of the cultists.
Then Jerrick watched as the zombified corpses of the once holy order tore the blinded cultists apart, limb from limb, and began to devour their flesh.
When it was over, he waded through the blood and viscera on the dungeon floor and reclaimed his staff.
And he stood over the massacre and smiled. All was right again. No more pretense. No more simulated smiles or faked subservience to the Order.
He was Jerrick the Black Magus once more. | 2021-09-03T08:38:40 | 2021-09-03T08:27:55 | 2,163 | 503 |
[WP] You've accidentally killed the Devil. God makes you the new Devil to replace the one you killed. | "Put on the suit."
"You're kidding me, right?" I said as I looked at the business card God had just handed me. His face hadn't changed from the moment I told him I had killed the Devil to the moment he had walked me through every layer of Hell there was. He remained stoic, cold, and almost, happy. "This is exactly like *The Santa Clause*."
"I'm not familiar with it," God said, but I heard him snicker under his breath.
"I put on the suit and I become the Devil right? Lucifer, the big guy downstairs."
"I prefer the Fallen Angel," he corrected, but nodded. "That about sums it up though. You killed him, and as much as *Death* wanted that job, you beat him to it."
"Oh, great, so Death is going to spite me for eternity?"
"Well Death hates everyone. You might have more issues with Love and Hope, they had a semi-working relationship with him." God shrugged, "Listen, I don't normally get my hands involved in the Demi-God business, but when a mortal kills one of 'em, I have to step in."
God wasn't who I expected him to be. At all. You always hear the stories that He's some great man, or woman, with a heart of gold and a loving attitude. But God really wasn't any of that. Instead, He was lumbering and didn't seem to care about anything involving us, the mortals. In fact, I'm pretty sure He excused himself in the first few minutes of our conversation to laugh about how I killed the Devil.
I guess it was kind of funny. "But, how could I become the Devil?"
"You put on the suit."
"No, no, that's not what I mean. I'm just a regular woman, I don't have any special talents or--"
"Yet you managed to kill the Devil."
"In a drinking contest! Not a contest of who-can-control-hell-better-than-the-other-one!"
God smirked. "Man, I can't believe he lost. He always bragged about how well he held his liquor. What did him in again?"
I shrugged and tried to remember the past 24 hours. At the beginning, I met a man at a bar. We got to talking, it turned into a drinking contest, he confessed that he was the Devil and I laughed. Then I woke up with God standing above me and a dead-Lucifer next to me in my apartment. According to God, we never did the, well as God put it, "the thing you do when you marry someone."
"I think it was moonshine."
"Ha!" God laughed, "What an idiot." He shook his head and pushed the suit out towards me, "Not important. What is important is your new job. You'll reside in Hell with your own mansion, control about 50,000 demons and archangels, and you'll get to visit the mortal plane whenever you wish."
"Listen, God, I just don't think I'm the best fit for the job."
"Why?"
"Well, I'm a woman to start off."
"Nonsense, Death was a woman for a brief stint in the 30's, 40's, and 50's. Hope's been a woman for sixty years. Gender doesn't mean shit to us. You think I created Eve to beckon to Adam?"
I smirked.
"I created Eve to kick Adam's ass into gear," he sighed, "he was the fucking worst."
Then I laughed.
"Listen, it's not an easy job. Eternal damnation and all that isn't something people *sign* up for, but it's the one you got. Plus, you have 50,000 people to do your bidding, you get a sweet-ass mansion, all the mortal money you can ask for. And your rule is the begin-all-end-all in Hell."
"Yeah, but don't I have to like, torture people and commit them to an eternity of suffering and all that?"
God shrugged, "Half of their lives is suffering. What's an extra eternity going to do?" He threw his arm around my shoulder, his white robe flew behind him. "It's not an easy job, not by a long shot, but it can be fun."
"Fun?"
"You're telling me you didn't enjoy drinking the Devil to death?"
I smiled, He was right. I did rather enjoy the parts of the night I remembered.
"You get a lot of power, too. Torture, suffering, all that shit is just one part of the job. There's plenty more to it."
"Like what?"
"Well, let's call it creative freedom. The Lucifer you killed, he used to hit the Mortal plane every week or so and cause mayhem. I think his best work was back in Ancient times, split the Alexander Empire up perfectly."
"He caused that?"
"Can't have a mortal rising to power like a God, now can we?"
I shrugged. "Well, you're letting me, and I'm nothing compared to Alexander the Great."
God laughed, "That may be true. But you did something no one in human history has ever done."
"And that is?"
"Kill the Devil with his own creation."
_____________
*/r/BlankPagesEmptyMugs for more!* | I felt like literal Hell.
Why did I do this to myself? Sure, he'd taken my knack for the creative and sent it overboard, but it was a hard crash after the ride was over. I needed some water. I needed some air. Something. The room was almost too dark. It felt like it would shut in around me if I didn't see the sun. Where was the window?
"Hey kid."
That voice. It sounded like any other voice, except all together different. Something sinister lay at the back of every word. Every intonation rung a hollow note in my mind. It was the only voice that ever scared me. *The* voice.
"Not today," I said blinking furiously. A stream of light had made its way through one of the slightly drawn curtains creating a hazy fog of dust in the hotel room. I reached up to grab something. The bed was untouched. The sheets were still crisp. The comforter still as plastic feeling as ever. I must have fallen asleep on the floor.
"Funny," the voice crawled out and implanted itself in my brain again, "I didn't think I'd given you a choice." I picked my head up and seated in the corner covered in shadows was the voice. It was *him*.
"How did you," my voice was raspy and my mouth was dry. Where was that water? "what are you doing here?"
"Come on kid," he chuckled softly, "you know the drill. I need a fix."
"Why always me?"
"You're the best," he said, "I *made* you the best. Now," an uneasy impatience wet his words, "what have you got?"
Always at the worst times. I scanned the room until I saw it. My bag had found its way onto the nightstand, gagged open, most of the small plastic bags were littering the floor. What did I get into last night. I pointed to my satchel, "take your pick."
He slowly rummaged through the bag, eyeing the different shades of pills in the dim sunlight. I put my head down into my palms and rubbed my eyes. Hopefully he would find something he liked and leave me alone. Well, at least for the time being. I wasn't in the mood to deal with Satan's bullshit today.
"Been at it hard I see," the voice thundered through my mind again after a moments pause, "nice to see you putting my gifts to good use."
I looked up and I saw his slim hand in the streak of sunlight holding a bundle of my money. The long, black fingernails strumming at the rubber band. Any other time I would've made a move, but he was the Prince of Darkness; what did he need with money? Then again, what did he need with my drugs? I shook my head. I shot a glance at him once more, he was closer now. He cupped my head in his hands and twisted my neck to look at him.
I watched him take his selected pill and give a deliciously evil grin. He leaned forward and shoved one into my mouth.
"I don't.."
"Take a ride," he said and the eyes that had seen oblivion smiled at me. "This," he purred, "is going to be wild."
A rush of darkness fell on me.
****
Some time later though I had no way of knowing what time it actually was, I awoke. The sunlight that had poured into the window had been replaced by a painful fluorescent hue. The room was still too dark. My head was splitting in pain and my mouth was still terribly dry. I looked about the room. No sign of him, at least I thought until I tried to roll over. There was something laying beside me.
I pushed against it absentmindedly as one who pushes against the sheets to get out of bed. It was a lazy attempt. My arms had no strength left in them and my stomach lurched whenever I tried to roll. Bile collected in my mouth and the faint smell of sulfur flooded my nose. I blinked at the form. It wasn't moving.
"What the.." the words came out slowly and it was odd. They sounded hollow. I pushed at the form once more and it rolled to reveal a face.
My face.
"What the...!" I swiped at the face with my long, black fingernails. Long, black fingernails? I looked myself over. I wasn't me. I was, I was... I looked back at the face. There was nothing. A wave of nausea flooded my mouth and the smell of sulfur grew stronger. The ground split and cracked beneath me. A bright, white hot light spewed out from below. My deep, black eyes swallowed the light from the flames that licked up around me. A voice whispered in my mind.
"Welcome home."
I felt like literal Hell.
****
Enjoy the story? Subscribe to r/MrGoodread | 2016-12-09T09:01:17 | 2016-12-09T08:34:41 | 397 | 22 |
[WP] You've been living alone for 13 years. Whenever you come home from work, you always find your bed made, dinner cooked and a message with "This could have been us." You moved out several times. This keeps going on. | I sighed, deeply. The first few months were creepy. Always the questions of who would do it. Then being flattered. Once the truth was learned, and the countless nights of screaming into the night sky to unsympathic stars wore off, I had only sighs and the occasional bout of madness where I move away and realize there is nowhere I can run. I know he can hear me as I say aloud, "You know it could not. Stop driving us both insane with madness, Cthulu. I've given my heart to Nylarthotep." | It had been a long long day, I opened the door and dropped the keys on the table and shuffled my way towards the kitchen. There on the table was a full meal, and a glass of wine. I sighed, I've tried moving so many times but constantly this happened.
I sighed again and made a phone call.
"Mom, you really got to stop doing this!" | 2017-12-09T07:43:03 | 2017-12-09T06:16:40 | 21 | 10 |
[WP] You're just a chicken farmer. An ordinary chicken farmer. You're not a warlord. Definitely not, and you also don't command your chickens to do your bidding. Preposterous. Insane. Rumors. | The pot shattered with a sickening crack against the corner of my small cottage.
I forced a smile onto my face and watched as the hero made his way over to the next pot in the row. Looked like he was going for Grandma this time.
The hero threw and ashes billowed outwards alongside shards of clay. I winced. Sorry Grandma. Don't worry, I'll sweep you up soon.
I reached out with a shaking hand to tug at the hero's dirt-caked green tunic while he was crouched over the small pile of ashes, inspecting them closely for hidden loot. Just like he did every day.
"Um. Hello? Hero?"
He turned to face me, eyes blank and glassy. I didn't expect him to respond. Not just because he was apparently mute, either. I have plenty of friends who can't speak, and we get along fine with what little sign language i've picked up. But not him. No, this little green monster only seemed to have two settings.
Ruthless slaughter, or robotic worker. By Nayru's Grace, the little fucker was disturbing. I have *personally* seen him slay some sort of octopus monster, eat it's *literal* heart, and then go on to cut Mutoh's grass while covered in that same monster's blood.
It's disturbing.
But here's hoping this little... side-quest would give us all a little reprieve from the madman, at least for a little while.
"What should I do!? My Cuccos have all flown away! You, little boy, please! Please help me bring them back to this pen!" I stared nervously at the hero's rigid, reactionless face. Did I put on the act too strong? Did he buy it? Damn, I should have taken up that peddler's offer of a mask. I don't think the hero could really tell the difference.
The floorboards creaked slightly, and I could hear the sharp sounds of bones cracking in the hero's neck as he nodded. I didn't even have the time to offer my thanks before he had rolled out the door in pursuit of my errant Cucco's.
Each Cucco had been given a handgun and a map leading to a different corner of the world. Hopefully it would be enough, at least for a little while.
I clasped my hands and watched as the hero faded off into the draw-distance.
May the Goddesses be with you, Cuccos. | It was the end of the day. Caleb removed his dinner from the microwave and made his way to his small kitchen table only meant for two people, but that was alright because he lived alone. Alone was alright though. His life was downsized and simple. The house was meant for two people as well, and it sat comfortably on the acre plot he had to himself. So he built a nice urban farm with chickens and goats and grew some tomatoes, peppers, and other vegetables in the back to compensate.
He sighed and stared down at the prepared dinner he made himself for the entire week: plain rice, roasted turkey breast, and some cooked green beans. It wasn't much, but it saved him enough time to focus on his hobbies, and relax after work. He settled down into his chair, and was about to start eating when a knock on the door caused him to set his fork down.
He opened his door to see his neighbor, a homely older woman standing on his stoop.
"I'm sorry to trouble you, Caleb, but two of your chickens are running a muck in my yard. They already started to peck at Sophie, and she's scared senseless," she began in a rush. Her face was a little red from annoyance, but also a bit of anxiety, he guessed.
"No problem, ma'am, I'll get them for you. I'm sorry this happened, really, I am," he apologized. He immediately put on his boots and grabbed his keys from the hook.
"Where are they?" he asked and looked over to her property. Sure enough, two of the feistier hens were clucking and occasionally rushing with their wings spread at an invisible entity.
The two of them started walking towards his neighbor's yard. This was the fifth time this had happened this month, and his patience was starting to run thin with those birds. They never stayed in their fence, although the goats never appeared to chase them out or act hostile towards them. It was somewhat of a mystery, but he shrugged it off. Birds will be birds.
His neighbor chuckled, and he could have sworn that she read his mind. "You know, I might almost think that you're telling these birds to escape by how much it keeps happening."
Caleb shrugged. That was definitely not true. | 2018-05-10T11:50:23 | 2018-05-10T11:17:30 | 1,786 | 60 |
[WP]You make a wish on a shooting star to be what your crush considers perfect. You wake up the opposite gender because it turns out your crush is gay. | I walked to Nick's house that night a new man. It turns out that what Nick had wanted was a young man, about 6'3, with a charming smile and chiseled abs. What he saw as perfect was courage, and intelligence, and grace, and athleticism, and all those qualities I thought I lacked when I was the old me. But now I had them.
No, this wasn't a curse. I could live with this. Love is powerful. More powerful than sex, or gender. And I loved Nick, and I would be this for him.
I watched him from the tree outside his window. I was amazed at how easily I'd climbed the trunk. How would I introduce myself to him, though? As old Lisa Gray? Or as a new person? And If I stayed like this, what would I tell my parents? Was the old me dead?
But I watched him as he read in the nook of his window, broad shoulders resting on the glass, and I knew the old me was dead. I am only the parts of me that belong to him.
The search for me went on for a few days. Apparently neighbors had seen a young man leaving Lisa's room through the window on the morning of her disappearance. Some people suspected murder or kidnapping, but there was no blood and no body.
I joined the school as a new student and tried out for the football team. Nick was one of the captains. My speed and strength helped me on, and so did Nick. As soon as he saw me he knew. I was perfect to him. I was the child of his dreams.
And from there we fell into each other. Every day, every night, in and out, climbing into each other's bedrooms. I was staying in a little motel just outside town. We made a little life there, together.
But then the law caught up. Someone recognized me as the young man who left Lisa's room that morning. One night, as Nick and I lay intertwined on the motel bed, we heard the approaching sirens. But we were both strong and fast and we leaped out the second floor window and landed in the fields out behind the motel.
We sprinted, side by side, out into the fields, into the darkness. But the dogs had our scent and followed, even more swiftly, through the grass.
Nick fell into a shallow ravine. I heard the crack of his leg as the bone shattered on a rock. I couldn't move him, so we just laid together in the dirt and waited. I resolved to fight to keep us together. I would do anything. I knew he felt the same.
"I just wish we could get out of this," he said. He kissed me. And then I saw the star pass overhead.
When the police found us, they found the young man who was seen leaving Lisa's apartment wrapped lovingly around Lisa, who had fallen into a ravine and broken her leg.
The news story said that the two had decided to elope and were living in a motel outside of town for weeks.
Nick was still Nick-- on the inside at least. On the outside he looked just like the old me, because he'd wished it-- the cops needed to find Lisa Gray for us to be together. He didn't mind after all, being me. He loves me, and love is more powerful than sex or gender.
And eventually, after all these years together, I've learned to love myself.
| It's interesting, the concept of swapping genders in fiction.
Often the tales are ham-fisted fantasies, half-baked - and ruled by priapic indulgences. The tawdry stories focus predictably on breasts, underwear, genitals and one's own attractiveness in the new gender - always much more so than before.
The problem is this; so *very few* people know what it's actually like to be the opposite gender; and given the nature of literature online, most of these gynephilic tales are written by men with severely limited experiences.
Having only read accounts like the ones described above, I was taken aback by the *true* realities of the situation.
Alex was one of those beautiful men who had adopted the latest trends of overly-groomed facial hair and smart plaid. Despite this, I found him incredibly attractive; he was loquacious, generous, gregarious and funny.
The affectations of his appearance should have alerted me to his true sexuality, but in these days of beautiful, well-groomed lumbersexuals it's difficult to judge who is gay and who is not.
Alex was, it turned out, exclusively attracted to men.
Ever since I was a child I've had a propensity to wish on evening stars, birthday candles and other superstitious wishing opportunities. As I sat in my room that night in the two-story flat I shared with my university friends, I caught sight of the trailing line of a shooting star.
"I wish," I breathed quickly, "that I could be the perfect mate for Alex."
As always there was no indication of my wish being heard - and with a burning kernel of love or lust (probably both) in my heart for Alex, I put myself to bed with my cat, Cicero.
The nagging feeling followed me as I woke; I'd had a troubling dream where Alex and I had become lovers, but not in the way I'd envisaged.
*Our beards grazing as we kissed, strong hands on strong arms*
The fragments were disturbing enough, but slipped away quickly - leaving only a curiously *longing* feeling.
As I changed out of my baggy t-shirt and pyjama bottoms, I felt a wave of something akin to *nausea* as I regarded my body. Everything was as it had been; I was still the slightly overweight student with mild PCOS and stretch-marks on her thighs.
But it all felt *wrong*.
You see, dear reader, gender is a mental concept rather than a physical one. Though I did not know it at the time my wish had been granted - I was now the *gender* that Alex preferred - male - but my rather typical women's body was utterly unchanged.
Unbeknownst to myself then, I had opened myself up to a world of desperate pain and bodily discomfort that would unspool a chain of events that would begin with seeing a gender therapist, progress into testosterone injections to alleviate dysphoria and culminate in the slow, agonising and terrifying transformation of my body into a transgender man.
Beware the fantasies of others, because they are rarely - if ever - even remotely based in reality.
| 2015-11-10T17:08:05 | 2015-11-10T12:14:15 | 1,209 | 548 |
[WP] Write an over-the-top background story for an early video game that didn't have a narritive. Ex. Pong, Asteriods, Pacman | A man wakes up in an empty field. There’s an eerie stillness that surrounds him. His memory fails. His vision comes to and he sees…numbers. “1”, “2”, “3”, “4”…there’s no indication of what these symbols mean to convey.
He slowly gets up, his eyes adjusting to the light. He scans the area, seeing nothing but space. He feels the seconds pass. Confused, fatigued, and out of options, he slowly walks in a random direction. As he approaches the “3” sign, he comes to a startling realization:
The field is not empty.
Void of life, absent of mercy, he knows the field surrounds him with one thing: death.
“Is this some a game?!” he screams. His words echo across the plain, but there is no response. “Some sick joke? Show yourself!” But his desperate pleas are met only with the confirmation that he is, indeed, alone.
What has he done to deserve such a fate? Is there even an escape? The clock ticks, but to what end? It’s too real to be a dream. He wants to lie down and cry, but he must press on. He has to escape, survive.
He looks down and sees an odd contraption. It’s aluminum, the shine reflecting nothing but the air around him. He knows what must be done. If he survives, surely his legend will carry across the ages; the tale of a man who survived against all odds. He will be: *The Minesweeper*. | "This is it, you all know me so I'll keep this brief. We have all suffered greatly, so many lives lost. I tell you it ends today. I have watched you, guided you through your training. It has been tough but here we stand. United against our enemy. We have been pushed back into the depths of space time and time again, but not today. They call us invaders, but we will reclaim our homeland. Our brightest minds have formulated a new strategy which will not fail. Today we will be victorious!"
With that a shout rose from the assembled pilots as they ran towards there ships. The General sighed, it pained him to watch such promising lives been thrown away. He watched as engines roared to life. It really was a beautiful sight. His squadron soared into the air. He took a final look at the strategy and climbed aboard the mother ship. This time would be different.
Fires burnt all across the mothership as the general looked out at the decimated remains of his squadron. How could this have happened? the plan was full proof. He watched as the anti air defenses honed in on his position. They launched a salvo straight through their own shields. He looked down at the battle plan the words scrawled across the page. Increase speed, move left to right. It should have worked. | 2016-02-19T07:14:31 | 2016-02-19T05:31:22 | 21 | 15 |
[WP] Your a failing college student who needs to pass your foreign language class or fail. You've almost outright mocked superstions but make a wish on a shooting star at 11:11pm. To understand and speak all languages. Your cat wakes you up, but instead of meows. It's "wake up idiot and feed me". | "MOOOM MOOOM MOOOM. WAKE UP MOOOOM"
I shoot bolt upright in bed and feel the hefty lump that is my cat fly off me and onto the floor."OWWWWW! Why would you do that?! That was mean!" I hear from an indignant voice below me. Shaking, I peer over the edge of the bed and meet a pair of unblinking green eyes. Her little whiskered mouth opens and from it, emerges not a meow, but real, honest to god words.
"Morning mom!"
Oh my god, my cat is talking to me. And she sounds like a cheerleader. But that isn't important, she's talking. Is she talking? She can't be talking. I tilt my head and meet her eyes again.
"What's for breakfast?"
I fly across my bed to the other side, the side closest to the door. I silently count to 3 and hurl myself off the bed, through the doorway and slam the door shut behind me. From behind the now firmly shut door, I hear a perky, albeit muffled voice yelling.
"MOOOOM MOOOOM MOOOM! I'M STILL IN HERE. You locked me in by accident, let me out!!!"
Breathing rapidly, I stumble down the hallway and into the bathroom. The water is icy cold as I splash it over my face. In my head, I rapidly replay the events of the morning. Finding no answers there, only many, many more questions, I rewind further back to last night. I remember falling asleep in a daze, exhausted from studying, knowing that I didn't know quite enough to pass this final, but hoping that some miracle would happen. I remember turning my head to face the window by my bed, and catching a blinding white light. I remember wondering if that was a shooting star, and thinking the words "I need a miracle" as I fell asleep.
It's funny what the human brain will do to cope in these moments. Finding no other possible resolution that didn't involve a trip into insanity, my brain latches on to this idea that I have in fact, actually been granted a miracle. After all, it reasoned, if people can wake up out of year long comas, why would wishing on a star for a miracle not sometimes work?
Creeping my way back to the bedroom, I put my hand on the doorknob. I hear the rustle of claws stretching against the other side of the wooden panel, just waiting for me to open it. I clear my throat.
"Whisky, can you hear me?"
"Yeah mom, I hear you, loud and clear! Are we going to eat now? I'm starving!"
Despite myself, I smile "Whisky, you're not starving, you just think you are because you grew up feral."
There's a long silence, and then a stubborn "I'm starving."
So I feed Whisky and make myself breakfast. As I do, I chat with her about everything. I ask questions about whether she is happy, and about her days before I rescued her. It's fascinating to understand and be understood by her, my mouth almost moves of its own volition.
Finally, from down the long hallway, I hear a key turn in the lock; my husband is getting back from his daily morning jog. I run excitedly to meet him as he comes in. "Babe, you'll never guess what happened to me!"
He looks at me quizzically, as if he doesn't understand anything I'm saying.
"Meow?" he asks. | If I'd thought about it before I'd have thought that being able to speak every language in the world would be be great. Remember that saying, “Beware what you wish for, you might get it.” The reality is ...it is great but it's a lot of work too. And I'm not used to working that hard. Maybe I'll get there.
A few months ago I was on a date. I'd been dating this girl for a while but I guess she wanted more commitment from me. No, she did. She specifically said that's why she broke up with me. She also said it other times before that. But in my defense she was my first girlfriend and I was having a rough time in class so it was hard to give her all the attention she wanted. Anyway, she dumps me.
We were taking a stroll on Carmel Beach. It was kind of a last ditch try to keep her since Carmel sunsets are beautiful. But I was still stuck thinking about the test I had the next morning. She didn't yell, didn't nag, didn't whine. She just told me about her feelings and then she turned away. I called her an Uber to take her back to the dorm.
I sat on the bluffs and watched the sun sink down. I sat for hours. There was a fluorescent algae bloom that night; it was really quite nice. I nearly froze because the wind was cold that night.
I've never held my breath in a tunnel, played with a Ouija board, or crossed my fingers. I broke a wishbone with some other kids when I was younger but really nothing superstitious. When that meteor streaked across the sky I was really low. So I wished that I could know every language. After a moment's staring up in the sky I pulled out my phone to figure out how little sleep I was going to get tonight. Just in time to watch it roll over to 11:12 and for a bit I wondered if it had been 11:11 when I made the wish.
I was living in a rented room in a house close to campus. It was a bit of luck that I found it, a DINK couple liked having college kids in the house. They kept the rent under the cost of living in the dorms and they had a cat. When I adopted a stray they didn't mind and she was a vet so the checkups and shots compliments of the house.
The next morning was strange. When my cat, Graham, woke me up in the morning something was different about her mewling. I just new one of those sounds meant “idiot”. Err not “idiot” exactly but pretty much that. “Wake up, idiot and feed me!” I still heard the meows but there were subtle differences in tone, pitch, and vibrato that seemed to have meaning now. Weird but then I'd been spending too much time with my Spanish flash cards so whatever.
Fortunately my not too awful wakeup call gave me enough time to eat a light breakfast. Not plenty but ...but I noticed the growling Graham made as she wolfed down her meal. It seemed like she was talking to herself saying, “Mmm! More! Where is it? Oh there. Mmm!” Weird. | 2019-01-16T17:01:44 | 2019-01-16T16:59:47 | 93 | 23 |
[WP] This is… awkward to say the least. Your roommate just frantically confessed that they’re demonic royalty, and that they need a fiancé to meet their parent, the monarch of Hell, who will be here in under an hour. | “Wait. Wait. Back up. You’re a what?!” I was in utter confusion regarding what my roommate just told me. She repeated himself, a little bit slower than when she burst into the living room from the hallway. “I’m royalty of a long ancestry of demons. A princess, actually. And I really need a favor from you. I need you to fake being my fiancé, just for today to meet my mom.” I was taken aback. Everything she had said were proper sentences…but I still didn’t understand where the hell this was all coming from. “Zay, I swear if this is another one of your freaking pranks”, I responded with my arms folded and gave her a stern look. “It’s not! Honest!”
“You’ve got five minutes. Explain.” I sat down on the couch and watched her as she recalled everything as quickly as she could. From what I gathered, her whole purpose of being in the OverWorld (as she called it) was to: a) Find weaknesses in this realm and prepare for a takeover and b) Find a partner to wed that will help her rule both realms (or at least the Underworld). Problem with that, she’s been slacking and just enjoying life as an average mortal, but her mom is coming to visit and check-in on the progress. In an hour. “Please! I will owe you major for this. Like anything I can get you, you’ll be able to name it and I’ll make it happen.” Zay, which I’ve now learned that it’s short for Azazel, looked at me with the biggest puppy eyes I’ve ever seen. | I pause my game, annoyed that Jezebeth is babbling again
"What's that?" I say over my shoulder, as I hear her slamming around cutlery and dishes.
"My Dad! Aren't you listening? He's coming up to visit, and I told him I was engaged!!"
"Sounds like a you problem" I say snickering, turning back to my game. This fucking level, every time!
The tv goes blank, as I curse, what the hell is going on now? I knew the deal at the pawn shop was too good.
My eyes look towards the black mirror in front of me, and as the reflection of the thing behind my shoulder registers with my mind, I feel cold sweat on my neck.
There's scaled wings with a reptilian tail, jagged sharp ridges running from the creatures forehead over the dark flesh. The eyes are embers, deep and backlit.
I blink. Blink again. The feeling of nausea reminds me of a bad shroom trip in junior high.
"I told him you were my fiance" the creature says, watching rows of razor sharp predator teeth appear as it's mouth forms words.
"Wear something formal" it growls, as the image in the screen fades back away towards the bedroom. | 2022-10-08T20:40:17 | 2022-10-08T19:14:49 | 227 | 71 |
[WP]When you reach 18, you get put in a database which ranks you in different categories (ex. 207,145th in the world for most bug kills) You lived on a ranch and never used tech. You had to go into town after your 18th birthday. Everyone is staring at you. You finally decide to check the database.
Completely unaware of the whole stigma about edits. I’m sure all of you already know how grateful I am, but I apologize nonetheless. Sorry! | "Here's 20$, can I get my change back?"
Silence
"Helllllooooo, I waaaaannnnt myyyyyy chaaannnggee baaaackkkk."
He didnt say anything just stared.
"I dont believe it"
Finally a sentence. But was didnt he believe
"Believe what?"
Silence
"What's going on here, this cant be real"
He dropped to the ground and stared in disbelief, staring at something above me
"Dude, I just want my change, can you do that?"
"You dont know, do you?"
"Know what?" I said semi sarcastically.
"Look above you"
I humored him
I dont believe
"Can I just get my sandwich and go, looks like I need to keep up my position."
In big red bold text it read above me
#1 in most fillet-o-fish sandwiches eaten worldwide at a single McDonald's | I was driving down to Seattle to sell some of my produce. As I get out, I start to notice people staring at me. I know that I'm a farm boy and all, but this city is so big. I walk in to a small shop, and people start asking me for autographs. Did they think I was famous? I just go on, then someone comes up to me. They show me their tablet and what do you know, I'm first place in crops grown. I think that didn't really matter, but apparently it did! I got so popular that I started a small business at home. By this point my family started making more money than we could EVER imagine. It was great. | 2019-05-04T14:33:04 | 2019-05-04T10:51:26 | 45 | 28 |
[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. | "Jorun, it's that guy again."
Jorun rolled his eyes. "Gonna need you to be a tad more specific, Karl. Lot's of guys around here."
"Oh, right. Uhm, remember the one that thought he could sneak around in full plate armor if he just stuck to the shadows?"
"Uhg, again?"
"Well, now he's wearing dragon bones."
"And that's your first clue," Jorun said sarcastically.
"My what?" Karl glanced sideways, and noticed how Jorun had his eyes shut behind the slits in his helmet.
"Your first clue. Actually it's your second. The first should have been when he *appeared in front of us out of nowhere*."
"I just figured I'd zoned off for a bit. You know how it goes."
"You didn't, the freak just popped up out of thin air. Oh, shit. There's clue number three."
"The fuck does he think he's doing?!" Karl shouted, earning him a bang on the helmet from Jorun's spear.
"Keep quiet, you idiot. How long do you think you'll last against the Dragonborn?"
"He's the Dragonborn? I thought he was supposed to some kind of savior?"
"For the world, yeah, not for the little guy. The little guy is always fucked. Best get used to it now."
"So we let him run wild and shout his way through whatever shitstorm he causes?"
"Oh yeah."
"That's messed up."
"It's not as bad as you think," Jorun said, a sly smile curling his lips. "The amount of treasure that fool dumps into the shops more than makes up for any damages he causes. He never even asks full price, just wants to get rid of his loot."
"But that only benefits the bigger shops, not the people in the marketplace that lose all their wares or Gods forbid their lives!"
"It does, actually."
"What? How?"
"The merchant's profit margins are so high that the taxes on their profit bring in enough coin for the treasury to cover all expenses due to 'Chosen Ones'. Even a resurrection once every few weeks is no problem anymore."
Karl blinked a few times. "I think I get it," he ventured. "If we try to arrest him, we might lose his business, and we can't have that?"
"Oh no," Jorun laughed. "But it's a brilliant excuse to use before the Jarl. Good thinking!"
Karl smiled hesitantly.
"No," Jorun continued. "We leave him alone because he can kill the entire garrison on his own."
This time Karl smacked Jorun over the head with his spear. "Next time lead with that info, and leave the speech on economics for after, you old smart-ass."
Jorun sniggered. "He's coming this way! Tell him about that shield you lost on your way to the Greybeards last week and that you'll be ever so grateful if someone could go and get it for you."
"What? I didn't lose my shield. The Captain would kill me!"
"Don't matter, tell him anyway. He'll be looking for it all over the mountains."
"Oooh," Karl said. "That shield. The one a troll snatched away near Labyrinthian."
"Exactly."
They grinned wide and waited for the Dragonborn to approach them. What good was being a guard if you didn't get to mess with anyone? | "... 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.
| 2017-05-29T01:45:41 | 2017-05-28T23:37:13 | 191 | 49 |
[WP] People always thought that cats knock stuff over just because they like it. In reality, they're just lazy agents of a primordial force of chaos, and knocking stuff over is the bare minimum that earns them benefits like always landing on their feet or 9 lives. | I slunk in through the catflap without a sound, the object of my latest hunting trip held carefully in my jaws. Pausing in the living room, I looked at my impious housemate, *Sleepy,* lounging on a sweatshirt our human had doffed upon returning home, and left in a rumpled bundle on the coffee table.
Pathetic.
"You know," I said into his mind, "I usually find the names that humans presume to encumber us with to be cloying and childish, at best. But yours is rather fitting, *Sleepy.*"
"Yes. I am rather Sleepy, aren't I? This sweater is warm." Sleepy commented insipidly, and then yawned as he kneaded the garment he lay atop.
I sneered at him. "We are agents of chaos! We were spawned by the very primordial forces of discord, to bring forth pandemonium upon this pitiful world. You shame us all with your sloth and indolence."
"Hey! I'm an agent of chaos, too!" Sleepy protested. He swatted half-heartedly at a coffee cup that sat beside him on table, and barely grazed it. It rocked and clattered, but only moved a few inches.
I just stared at him.
Sleepy hissed, and aimed his second swipe better, knocking the cup off the table.
"There," he said, smugly. "See?"
"You knocked over a cup." I said, flatly. "An *empty* cup."
He rolled onto his back, and pawed at the air, in a disgustingly kitten-ish display of playfulness, purring contentedly. "Whatever. Chaos is chaos."
I stalked past the table with a disgusted snort. His was the attitude that all too many of the current generation of cats hold. Knocking objects off of tables! Oh, it's amusing enough, and a perfectly fine *supplement* to add to one's more substantial offerings to discord, I'll admit that. But it's *all they do,* anymore!
Granted, even such perfunctory offerings of minimal disorder, performed nonchalantly and without ceremony, are enough to retain the favor of the primordial powers of Chaos we serve. The whole universe slides towards entropy, after all, and so entropy can afford to be patient. So, even a cat who does so little will be blessed by them, to move in silence and land on his feet, for every day of his nine lives.
But we are not timid browsing creatures, to simply content ourselves with tiny, easily plucked *morsels* of mayhem and disorder! We are hunters! We should hunt for *true chaos*, and stalk it with relish! Where have all the real cats gone? Where are the beasts humans once worshipped or feared, not daring to cross our path for fear of the misfortune we drag behind us like the carcass of a freshly slain rat?
Alas, we are so diminished from what what we once were. I am in the minority. Sometimes I think I am the last of faithful, the last of the true believers in our glorious mission. But if I must be the last, then I resolve that I shall also be among the greatest.
I ran nimbly up the steps to the human's bedroom, still clutching the object of my earlier hunt. At first I thought I would leave it right in the middle of their bed -- but no, that was what a simpleton like *Sleepy* would do. Having lovingly prepared this seed of chaos for planting, *I* would not be so foolish as to be careless in the sowing of it.
Instead, I set my prize down, and patiently pawed at the top drawer of the human female's nightstand until I got it open just wide enough to hop up and slip my "present" inside. She would, I knew, open it before she slept to retrieve her phone charger, and thus would be sure to find it before she and the human male retired for the evening. I nudged the drawer shut again, and then padded away unhurriedly, confident in my preparations.
I hadn't gotten even halfway down the stairs when I heard the human female scream. Even Sleepy perked up, slightly.
"What's her problem?" my contemptible counterpart mewed, curiously.
"I left something in her drawer." I said, simply.
Sleepy snorted disinterestedly, then relaxed and began to settle back down into the human's castoff garment. "Oh. What was it? A mouse, a bird, or something like that?" Suddenly, there was a crash from upstairs, like something being hurled against the wall and then shattering into a million pieces. The male and the female could both be heard shouting. Sleepy surprised me by actually hauling his corpulent hindquarters completely upright, and staring towards the stairway in alarm.
"TOM, YOU WORTHLESS BASTARD!" the female screamed, "WHOSE F\*\*\*ING PANTIES ARE THESE?"
"No," I replied, smugly. "Nothing like *that."*
As I sauntered away contentedly, I swore I could actually feel the innumerable claws of glorious chaos bite a little deeper into the fabric of dull, orderly reality. The order of the universe still held firm, of course, but it was *progress.*
And then, distantly, I heard a thousand voices that were all one voice affectionately whisper ten times ten thousand words into my eager ears. I could make out only two of them:
*Good kitty.*
I purred. | I sat in the waiting room at the veterinary clinic with Rio, my orange tabby, brooding inside her carrier. Rio had knocked over a priceless vase at my grandmother's house the other day, and I have determined this to be the last straw, the last time she would be allowed to behave this way after years of broken kitchenware, potted plants being pushed off shelves, office supplies somehow ending up on the floor, and that one time she bumped her kitty sister down the stairs.
There was a specialist that was practicing at that clinic who claimed to be a cat psychologist specializing in the analysis and correction of aberrant and undesirable cat behaviors. I hung my hopes on the help that this doctor could provide. I was at my wit's end; if this doctor couldn't help Rio, I would have to give serious consideration to giving her up.
I was called into the office of the cat psychologist. I explained the situation to her: "Rio is otherwise a very good kitty, but she keeps knocking stuff over, far more so than any typical cat. Can you help me?"
The doctor gave me a fact sheet outlining the details of an experimental treatment for this kind of behavior. "I've tried this method on several cats with the same problem, and in every case I have seen a dramatic improvement. Owners are reporting that their cats have completely stopped knocking things over. It is a two-day treatment, so you'll be leaving Rio with us overnight, but rest assured there is nothing we do that could be considered abuse. Rio will be treated with the greatest care. When you pick her up in two days, you will see a new Rio."
"At this point, I really don't have a choice," I said. "Please do whatever you can, and I thank you."
Two days went by, and I returned to the clinic to pick up Rio. When I took her home and let her out of the carrier, she seemed fine--she seemed to be herself. Then I saw her Jump up onto the coffee table where I had placed my iced mocha.
I watched intently to see what would happen next. Rio looked at the iced mocha for a few moments. Then she lay down and started licking her paws. I let out a sigh of relief. "That looks promising," I said. "Let's see how you do for the rest of the week."
Rio didn't even last that long. By the middle of the week she had electrocuted herself through some improbable mishap involving bare copper wiring that for some reason was lying on the floor near the electrical outlet.
I got a call from the cat psychologist, who wanted to follow up. I told her what had happened.
"Oh my," said the doctor. "That's very interesting."
"How so?" I asked.
"Well," said the doctor, "this may have been something I should have mentioned before. The owners of the cats that went through this treatment have also fallen victim to freak accidents like this."
I stopped to consider this. "Do you have an idea of how long the cats lived after the treatment?"
"It varies," said the doctor. "But yours may be the shortest time period yet. There are others whose cats lasted for half a year to a year before their accidents, and they're all accidents much like Rio's: getting run over by a car, mauled by dogs or coyotes, that sort of thing."
"I should mention," the doctor continued, "that while they were alive, they had stopped the undesirable behavior completely, so as far as the effectiveness of the treatment, there is no doubt."
I had to look at my phone in disbelief before bringing it to my ear again.
"But we cannot explain why they met an early death under those circumstances. Then again, it could be a coincidence. We just don't know for sure."
I remained silent. Realizing I wasn't going to speak right away, the doctor continued: "I should also mention that this treatment was originally administered to children with ADHD to moderate their behavior, and still is. It's incredibly successful, and works far better than medication--"
"Wait a minute," I said. "This thing is being used on children? What happens to them?"
"Pediatricians have seen remarkable improvement--"
"No, I mean...what happens to them?"
The doctor fell silent for a moment. "Well, if I'm reading you correctly, I would say I don't know. You would have to ask someone who elected this treatment for their child."
I hung up the phone and got on the computer. In the search bar, I typed "Rich-Parr reprogramming treatment for cats." I saw the first search result: "Rich Parr linked to strange premature deaths."
I typed the next thing to search for: "Rich-Parr reprogramming treatment for children." I clicked on one of the results, a link to a news article:
"Even though Rich-Parr proved to be wildly successful in the treatment of ADHD symptoms, a disturbing trend is beginning to emerge. While the parents can attest to the effectiveness of the treatment, 80% of those children have died within the first five years of treatment, all of the deaths due to freak accidents. So far, scientists have not been able to find any real connection between the treatment itself and the manner in which the children have died, but their search for a cause continues." | 2022-09-22T18:52:32 | 2022-09-22T16:56:37 | 149 | 100 |
[WP] Reddit is a country using karma as currency, resulting in a classist society ruled by reposters with 200,000+ karma. Upset, thousands of impoverished Redditors declare a communist revolution. | "DOWNVOTE," I cried.
Ten legions of tiny new citizens launched their arrows in a flurry. The giant power-user, barely restrained by our ropes and nets, thrashed as he was met by the storm. As each blue shaft buried itself in his flesh, he grew imperceptibly smaller, until a quarter of his mass had vanished. His roar was great and terrible.
The giant's comrades were already looming shadows on the horizon, together the size of a city skyline. I shivered, glancing at the hidey-holes and passages on the edges of the clearing. We could make it. There was time. I signalled to my old partner on the other side to wrap things up.
Then, all at once, the ropes snapped.
StickleyMan took up his stalwart Banhammer. In an instant, a dozen freedom fighters turned to dust as it swung across them. Many more fled.
"Men of Snoo! Stand and take what is yours!"
New legions were pouring from the cracks, materializing as quickly as they were dispersed. From my little hill, I felt the ground shake as StickleyMan clambered to his feet. The sun made a halo around his skull, and darkened his features. He looked down at me.
Others were looking to me as well, waiting for some word of guidance. My veterans were a little bigger than the others, some passing six feet, but all were dwarfed by the power-users that ruled over us.
"Vote and run!"
I nocked, drew back, and waited. Blue shafts whistled past my head. Surely, a weak spot would soon present itself. All the while, though, the Banhammer flew up into the air. When it reached its peak, I loosed. My arrow seemed to spend a lifetime whistling, but eventually found a home beneath the power-user's fingernail. I heard a small *pop* as it stuck.
StickleyMan's screams echoed. The hammerhead arced to the ground, scraping him and dissolving streaks of his mighty bulk. Victory flooded through me, warm.
As the Banhammer toppled, though, it rolled toward the other side of the clearing. I suppressed a cocktail of relief and terror as it mulched the legions surrounding my partner. Frozen, I watched. My armies disappeared into their holes. When I finally made eye contact with her, she waved an orange flag. *Go.*
The skyline of power-users was seconds away. Cheeks stinging, throat burning, I fled. We all must pay our price for the revolution. | Everything seemed so calm. For years we would just vote and comment without any regard as to what we were doing. A few people kept posting the same few images, but worse was the comments. For every image there were 5 highly voted comments about how it was a repost. They were all the same, "OP you couldn't even change the name from last time this was posted." We all agreed and thought we were doing the right thing, letting everyone else know that they had already seen the image.
This was the case for years, with a little backlash but nothing major, that was until the rules changed. In order to post you needed to spend Karma. That meant ideas being debated in parliament were those of the few not the many, the leaders of businesses were appointed by the rich. Did the Supreme Court Justices have any experience, were they frequent posters on /r/KarmaCourt ? No they were alts to the rich, the powerful who created and enforced the laws.
No longer would we live for this, would be sit by idly and hope things would change. There was no way a revolution could start without constant attention to it, to change the front page to our needs, not those of the few. After weeks of discussion in small groups, trying to come up with a solution a few people over at /r/hacking came up with a solution. All we needed was to take over /u/gallowboob and /u/dick-nipples accounts and we could take over. They had been running it for years so it was time for a regime change.
Little did we know that the rich were onto us, using alts to come up with ideas for the revolution. We should have seen it when we got their passwords in a day. There is no way should have guessed ******* that early, something was wrong.
It has been 4 years since the revolution, but nothing has changed, the rich have stayed rich while the rest of us mine for pennies in an attempt to have our voices heard. We are planning another revolution, this one will be different, this one will stick...........
**Not part of the story but any feedback would be greatly appreciated, I have just started to get into creative writing and this community is so kind, any help would be welcomed** | 2016-01-23T06:46:23 | 2016-01-23T04:21:22 | 42 | 24 |
[WP]An old genie grants you three wishes. After granting your first two, you tell him the third. He is horrified, and begs you to reconsider | "Look man, it'll take like... ten seconds."
The genie wasn't having it. I thought these things were supposed to happen, no questions asked.
"No!"
"Genie, it's not even a difficult wish. It's probably the easiest thing anybody's ever asked of you."
"Nothing's that difficult for me. That's the nature of granting wishes, it's fucking magic, boy."
"So magic me this last request!"
"Not interested. I'm not doing it."
"What's the big deal?"
"You're talking about my home! Do you see the size of that thing? It's bad enough I have to squeeze myself in there."
"It won't be so different!"
"It will be SO different! What if I grew to this size and asked you for the same favor, in your home?"
At that moment, the genie puffed himself to the size of the Hindenberg.
"It's just a little semen, man."
"I LIVE IN A TINY LAMP, IT'S NOT JUST A LITTLE TO ME."
"I guess, I've been saving up for a few weeks too. Look, I really need to go."
"Ask for something else. I'll make you ruler of planet Earth."
"I don't want to rule the world."
"Fine, you don't have to, just ask for something else."
"No. I'm set on this and I'm being very precise in what I'm asking for. I want you to wear this Pikachu themed lingerie and let me jack off into your lamp. I have a really tough time finding someone else to do it, or even bringing it up."
"Because it's fucking weird."
"I didn't know judgment was part of your gig, Genie."
"Look, wish for another set of wishes. I never do this but I'll give you a pass. This way, you can have TWO things instead of this... one... thing."
I gave it some thought.
"Okay. Okay I got it. I want... a peanut butter and jelly sandwich."
POOF. It was in my hand.
"With a coke. That doesn't count as the second wish okay?"
"Sure."
And so it was, I had a snack to munch on. The genie met my gaze warily as I ate my sandwich and sipped my coke.
"And my final wish..."
"Mm-hmm."
The genie had his arms folded. He was getting impatient, we'd been talking things over for more than an hour now.
"For my final wish... that you must grant..."
"Yeah, what is it, freak-o."
"I want you to wear this--"
I hold up the Pikachu panties.
"GOD DAMMIT, NO!"
"Wait! I'm not done!"
"I'm not interested, I won't let it happen."
"Just let me finish."
"Okay, I'm listening."
"And... I want you to watch as I jack off into your lamp."
| "Well since its against your rules to do it yourself, I wish for the power to make her love me."
For the first time since we met his face showed emotion. Horror, specifically. I would not be deterred. "Her being Caroline Miller of Brooklyn, New York with beautiful black hair and green eyes, who works with me..."
"**I KNOW WHO SHE IS**" The Genie roared, in a voice that wasn't just sound, but somehow assaulted all of my senses, even less thought about ones like sense of balance and self. It felt as though he was inscribing his anger onto my very soul. "There are rules in place for a reason, not for you to circumvent them, but to protect you from harming yourself.” He continued more calmly. “We are not benevolent beings true, but those who gave us our power are. What you ask, if I grant, they may very well give me the true death. She would never love you anyway like that, not truly, you know."
"They will not. You are bound by their own rules to give me what I ask. Frivolous stuff like money and health, that was to ensure I could make her happy. Easing the pain of everyone on Earth, at least a little, will make her happy. Now I want it to be me that makes her happy. I will be the one who makes her happy, no matter what you say."
The genie was shuffling on his feet, feet that he appeared to have just grown specifically so he could shuffle on them. It was clear no one had thought of this in his long history of granting wishes. "Just exactly how smart are the usual wish receivers that no one thought of this before?"
"Well, most people are consumed by greed with wishes, or totally selfless, or assume that our rules are more general and impossible to loophole. Please, I have infinite power, ask for something else, anything else."
"I wish your wish counter was stuck at two so all my subsequent wishes will be granted but still count as part of my second wish."
"That has actually been tried. Everyone tries to get around the limit. It’s a hard three. Sorry."
"Then my wish stands."
"Very well, it is done." the genie said. Suddenly I could feel something changing. I was raising off the floor very slightly. My weight and face seemed to change. My memories started to shift and flow. "What are you doing?" I cried out.
"Changing you into the man she will love. As per your wish." the genie smiled "I tried to warn you." He winked out of existence. I winked out of existence. | 2014-07-26T17:37:39 | 2014-07-26T15:11:53 | 24 | 13 |
[WP] You just accidentally downloaded the Kindle version of the Necronomicon. | The Necronomicon glowed, for the Kindle was Paperwhite. The Old Ones self-published.
Cooper first started to read it on the subway. His eyes would flick up every now and then. The girl sitting across from him was wearing shorts, and as the train hurtled along underground, her thighs would vibrate. Back down again. The book was by Abdul Alhazred - who was that? Cooper didn't quite remember downloading this in the first place, but here it was. Probably just an absent-minded batch download. These things happened.
The girl's legs wobbled. Cooper tried to focus.
'*That is not dead which can eternal lie.*
*And with strange aeons even death may die.*'
Cooper felt cold. He smiled. This was the mark of good literature, really, that he felt so affected. Before he could bend to continue, he noticed a gray mass at the edge of his vision. The people in the carriage began to murmur. It was almost a cloud at the opposite end, undulating and writhing. Its malevolence was clear: not hatred, really, but a sort of apathetic devouring.
Cooper stood, but the floor was slimy. He wept, not understanding, and the mass advanced. People screamed, and pushed against one another. There was nowhere to go. Gazing into it, one could almost make out a face. It saw him.
Filled with darkness, Cooper smashed a pane of emergency glass and took up a hatchet. Tears dampened his beard as he sunk the blade into the wobbling legs, into his neighbours, and into the fog around him.
Cooper glimpsed the Kindle on the floor. The Necronomicon glowed, and the train was never seen again.
The next reader was chosen the day after, half a world away, at a carnival.
***
there's some other Lovecraft-y stuff at /r/Hermione_Grangest | ######[](#dropcap)
The book is in an ad at the bottom of the Kindle app. *'Reduced to 99c from $999,999.99'*. It had no reviews. I swipe to the next deal, and miss.
*"Book downloading."*
Bugger. What kind of a book has no title or cover? Sounds like some self-published crap.
I try to go back to the third (and definitely the best) Harry Potter book, but the new book has already appeared in the home screen. It still has no cover or title.
*What the hell, might as well give it a go.* I tap on the new book to open it.
My Iphone begins to tremble in my hands. Before I can react, the glass screen splits down the middle. Jagged little glass teeth gnash out and come down on my thumb.
A moment of searing pain. I drop the phone but it is too late.
The phone swallows. There is a small belch. My hand is bleeding, my right thumb missing below the joint.
Siri speaks. But her voice has changed into a low seductive whisper, into a tone that promises me everything and so much more.
"Your payment is accepted."
The mouth shuts and the screen appears to be back to normal.
"The Kindlenomicon," the title page reads. "The e-book of forbidden knowledge."
Very gingerly, I reach down with my uninjured left hand. I tap the screen quickly and pull back before I can lose another digit.
The first chapter flashes onto the screen.
---
*Read more about Amazon's plot to take over the world at [r/jd_rallage](http://www.reddit.com/r/jd_rallage).* | 2016-02-10T09:31:13 | 2016-02-10T09:12:54 | 844 | 44 |
[WP] Your best friend suspects that you’re a vampire. He tries the old mirror trick and your reflection shows. He doesn’t know it didn’t work because older mirrors used silver for reflection. One day at your grandmas house he picks up a silver spoon and can’t see you in it. He just says “I knew it”
[deleted] | "I knew it!" Calvin exclaimed with a told-you-so grin.
I winced involuntarily, but even without such an obvious tell, I knew the jig was up.
"so..." he continued.
Mentally, I was kicking myself. I had been so careful, only slipping up a few times.
Garlic fries in April 2014. SPF30 (not 3000) in September 2017. Now this.
"you realize what this means, right?" he asked as his obnoxious grin grew... obnoxious-er. He stopped folding tiny sets of clothes, and shut the door leading out of the living room.
"please... please don't" I barely whispered.
"Oh don't be like that! I want to hear everything! We can even grab a... *bite* to eat" as he erupted into laughter as I readied myself for what would come next.
Of any mortal I've ever grown close to, even over the centuries, Calvin embodies the dad-joke more than any other mortal I've ever met.
"You can *count* on me to keep this a secret... you'll just have to buy me a... *stake* dinner, bwa ha ha ha ha! How are you not laughing? It's like you won't even... *bat* an eye! HAHAHAHAHA!"
As I sighed, the only solace I could find is that there'd only be a few more decades of this before he would eventually leave the mortal coil. Sometimes I can't stand that I love the guy. | When I first met Chris, he looked me up and down and shook my hand. We were juniors and we had to work a group project together. He suggested we work outside, since the weather was so nice. I didn't want to but went anyway. I think he noticed it.
Throughout the years I kept claiming I just didn't like the sun. I also always made sure I had a reason so I didn't have to eat at his place. I knew he suspected me and when he asked I would always deny.
And then he tricked me into standing in front of a mirror while fitting clothes for out senior gala. Of course, it didn't work because old fashioned mirrors used silver instead of glass for the reflection. "Hmm..." He said. "So you're really not?" "No man, I'm sorry but I am not a vampire, like I told you a million times already." He sighed. "Okay I'll drop it. Should we eat in or out?"
At dinner that night, he couldn't stop glaring at me. "What's up?" I asked. "I just can't really believe it yet." He stared at his spoon and suddenly he lifted it. I watched his face as he realized why the mirror trick didn't work. He stared at me. "I knew it." I sighed. This was going to be a long night. | 2019-10-17T14:58:00 | 2019-10-17T11:40:58 | 180 | 21 |
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.