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 |
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[WP]everyone has a sigil on their body that represents powers that were bestowed onto humanity after the rapture of the Milky Way. The bullies at school always pick on you because you never used your power, but you’ve had enough. Now they are going to find out why your sigil is a plain old circle | As his back bounced off the unforgiving steel of his own locker Tomas contemplated what imagined slight he caused this time. It was always the same. Same oblivious parents. Same uncaring teachers. Same Jacob Meech.
The circle sigil on the back of his right hand a mocking symbol of his overall life so far.
He considered staying down. Sometimes Jacob lost interest if he did. Staring at the back of his hand a spark of anger ignited inside him, quickly become an inferno of acidic rage. Rising to his feet he stared down his bully with so much malice; so much raw hatred that it made the invulnerable quarterback pause.
"Enough." Tomas spat raising his right hand at the other boy and his sigil finally began glowing.
Snapping his fingers the glow brightens them dims, the sigil shifting to the number twenty-four.
"Twenty-four hours." He sneered his voice rising to address the other kids who had gathered to watch him get bullied.
"I have locked away your powers for twenty-four hours. After the allotted time they will return to you." Tomas picked up his bag and started to walk out of the ring of students, pausing next to Jacob, a stunned look still on his bullies face.
"You wanted to see my power so bad? Now you have. I like to call it a black hole. But it's really more like a prison. For sigils that is. Touch me again and it'll be twenty-four years"
The first bell rang as Tomas walked away. | I’ve never activated my sigil in public. It’s not a cool power anyway... that was what I thought.
But in a world where everyone has their own talent manifest, I just didn’t fit in.
That’s why the bullies found me to be an easy target.
“Look it’s Shit ring!” I heard Warren yell as I tried to ignore him.
That’s right, a big fat brown circle, not even where it’s subtle smack dab on my forehead. Zeroface, talentless, shit ring...
Warren sported a black brand of lightning on his fist. It’s cool and he knows it, especially when he zaps people.
I ignored him, and he strides to catch me.
“Let me go!” Inadvertently, I shrink from him whilst he continues to tease me.
Suddenly, his face blanks, and the look of shock washes over him. Moans escape his mouth uncontrollably.
I realised I have accidentally triggered my sigil. He was having an instant orgasm, and he won’t be able to stop until he passes out.
I turn and ran ...
*Edited for grammar* | 2020-02-26T07:36:26 | 2020-02-26T07:22:06 | 72 | 43 |
[WP] Colony ships have been leaving weekly for awhile. The streets around your home are looking more empty. You don't qualify for the colony ships. You will always be one of the left behind. | I sat out on the sidewalk that day. The last ship would be leaving in a few minutes, and I could see it over the rooftops from there. The streets were empty, quiet, the only sound the distant thundering of speakers from the launchpad, reduced to barely a whisper by the time it reached me.
You'd think I'd be mad.
When it was discovered that we could make use of the universal folds to reach more habitable places, when we realized we could not save the Earth, I'd been assigned to develop sustainable gardens that could be used to not only feed passengers but seed the new planet, survive it's subtly different environment. I'd always liked plants, enjoyed their stillness, their diversity, their lack of judgment. They didn't mind if it took me longer than most people to till their soil so long as I did it delicately, didn't call me useless if I took a few extra minutes of effort to get their water to them. I'd become an expert in botany, and was the obvious choice to piece together that corner of the logistical nightmare.
I did a pretty good job too. Played with chemistry, adjusted air and water efficiency, developed ways to keep plants healthier with even less soil, and much more sulfur. My gardens were perfect. Beautiful.
My favorite strawberries didn't know I wasn't going to be one of the humans allowed to escape this dying world with them, and didn't think I deserved to be left behind.
I leaned back in my wheelchair, trying to be comfortable. No amount of cooling pipes in the cushioned back and seat stopped it from being hideously burning hot out during the day. Still, it was better than being inside, missing it all. The Earth's corruption had already taken enough from me, taken the stability of my DNA, the functional use of both legs and one arm, stopped one of my eyes from blinking on it's own… I wasn't going to let it take this from me too.
A neighbor I'd never spoken to more than once came outside as well, a few houses down. An older man, potbellied and busy, we'd simply never had a reason to chat. He caught me staring, and walked over, plopping down to sit in the grass by my side.
"Didn't you work on those things?" He asked, voice gruff and smoke torn.
I nodded,"Yes. I developed their botanical preservation system."
"Why aren't you on there?"
"My condition is genetic. They deemed me an unfit candidate for transfer."
His voice came out half angry, half defeated,"That's fucked, you know that? Bullshit too, they could absolutely use a young scientist like you, even if you can't pop out kids."
I smiled placidly, shrugging,"I know."
Silence stretched a minute before I asked him,"Why are you still here? You're under the age limit."
He was quiet a minute, before pointing down the road,"You ever see Janna, the Chinese lady who lived down there? She had two young kids, great kids, real polite, always came over while I worked on my yard to talk my ear off. One of 'em didn't pass their genetic test. Those monsters wanted her to leave one of her babies behind because he had some gene for poor eyesight or some shit. So I gave Jenna my card."
I processed that a minute, the blunt normalcy in his voice.
"That's a very beautiful thing to do Mr. Dawdson."
He let out a snort of a laugh,"Heh, didn't know you knew my name. And it's nothing. I'm just some geezer. Drank too much, lost my wife, only had one kid and she died fighting the fires… That little boy deserved it way more than I did. He's got a family who needs him, and a life to live."
We both quieted down as the earth-shaking roar came echoing down the suburban streets. We watched as the last ship, the last colony of human life to escape our burning world took off and roared out into the sky.
We sat a long time in silence. It was Dawdson who broke it.
"Why'd you let them make you stay?"
"This is home. My cat and my garden are the only living things that have truly never judged me, and they need me."
He nodded, sighing before standing.
"Well, Miss Scientist. Guess it's both our home forever now. I'm cooking bacon and pancakes for dinner. You're welcome to come over and have some, I still got the ramps I had installed for Clara before we knew she wasn't coming back."
I smiled, doing a check to make sure my chairs controller hadn't stalled out in the heat.
"I'd like that. I'd like that very much." | You couldn't take a Ford-Mercedes on the colony ships.
You could take your children, all two of your spoiled brats that were allowed under the reproductive allowance. The Wilkins kids had shipped out the day before, and Lilian had watched them leave through the viewing port in the airlock to her habitation.
You could take a pet, if you had one, which the Wilkins's did because Pa said that Mr Wilkins was a big shot at the MUG, and could get the paperwork rubber stamped. When she was younger, and the Wilkins's little poodle had first come home. Lilian had once asked Pa if they could get a dog like the Wilkins's had, and Pa had looked so torn up that she'd never asked again and instead just stole puppy kisses from little Buster when nobody was supervising her cleaning work at the Wilkin's' habitation.
Pa said that you were allowed three cubic meters of baggage on the colony ships per person, or two for children under 12. When Lilian had asked how anyone could fill that much space, especially if you couldn't take your surface rover with you, Pa had laughed and said that every day when he was loading the cargo bays there was somebody trying to go over the limit. There was the man who was trying to take his whole hydroponic garden "just in case plants weren't growing outside yet", and the family who argued that each of their children needed the full three cubic meters because they had too many clothes (Lilian, who was wearing one of her two pairs of overalls, snorted in contempt), and the woman who wanted to bring her Ford-Mercedes surface rover anyway, because "it was the newest model".
"And the irony is," said Pa, as he tucked Lilian into the lower bunk, "that it wouldn't even be useful up there. You can't drive a rover down a highway."
But the Wilkins's had left their rover behind, and in a fit of unexpected magnanimity, Mr Wilkins had given the ignition code to Lilian on her last day working as their house maid. "It's got a few more decades left on it," he'd said, and echoing Pa's words, added, "Even if we did have space, rovers are for dead planets, not living ones."
But even dead planets needed caretakers, and Lilian had overheard one of the Wilkins kids saying at school that the "help" would need to stay behind just in case the Old World wasn't ready to support humans again, and began to deteriorate a second time. Just in case the humans that returned had to flee once again. "Not that such an eventuality is likely," Professor James had said, on his last day of teaching their class before taking his own place on a colony ship. "We now understand what our forebears did not - that a planet is a precious resource, once that must be safeguarded and not treated as a large garbage disposal."
The night after the Wilkins's had left, Lilian snuck over to their habitation, which was eleven times larger than the quarters that she shared with Pa. She didn't need to sneak, because she and Pa were now the only ones left in this habitat module, and in a few days they were to be consolidated into another location with others who'd been designated "mission critical staff" by MUG, while this module was left to be reclaimed by the dead red sands outside. But she snuck anyway, out of force of habit, and because it felt somehow naughty to be in the Wilkins's deserted quarters while they were on a colony ship thousands of miles up in space.
And mostly she snuck because little Tommy Wilkins owned a large telescope that was too big for his two cubic meters, and which was still set up in his bedroom. He'd let her look through it once, after she'd helped him with his history homework, and now she crept through the discarded belongings which lay scattered throughout the habitation and uncapped it.
She punched in a set of coordinates that she knew by heart, and as the server motors whirred she found herself looking at a sphere of blue and green and white. A living planet once again, after three centuries of remedial terraforming. Earth.
But not home. Home was here.
---
Back after a long hiatus. Old stories: [/r/jd_rallage](https://old.reddit.com/r/jd_rallage/) | 2021-06-30T08:50:55 | 2021-06-30T08:08:47 | 1,071 | 555 |
[WP] Almost giving up on love, you are set up for a blind date. Upon meeting up, you notice your date is literally blind. They ask for your name and you faintly say "Medusa" | "... Medusa," she said, almost in a whisper.
"Oh, you're a gorgon? Medusa's a beautiful name; is it a traditional one?"
Medusa blinked. Once. Twice. That was not the response she was expecting. "You're not... freaked out?"
Ethan shrugged. "Freaked out? Nah, my best friend growing up was a lamia. My school was pretty diverse, so I had a bunch of Mythos in my friend group." He rubbed his neck. "Bit surprised, I will admit. My friend who helps me use OKAphrodite didn't mention you were a gorgon."
Medusa shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, the selfie I posted cut off at the forehead. I'm really sorry about being deceptive, but..."
Much to her surprise, Ethan waved it off. "Don't sweat it. I've heard from friends how hard it is for Mythos to date online. The abuse, the people who flat out won't message you, the weirdo fetishists, it's gotta be exhausting."
"The fetishists are the worst. A few months ago, a guy I met for lunch kept trying to touch my hair, and told me that he could be my Harry Potter, and I could be his Hair of Slitherin'."
Ethan's shoulders sagged. "I weep for the future of my species. Can I buy you a drink as an apology on behalf of humankind?"
Medusa stared at Ethan curiously for a moment, and then nodded. "I'll take an ambrosia and coke." As he flagged down a waitress and ordered, she took a moment to regard him. He'd never be mistaken for a model, but he was sort of goofily cute, and he clearly took care of himself - his clothes fit well, his beard was neatly trimmed.
He'd have no problem finding a nice human girl, so why was he still here with her?
After he finished with the waitress, Ethan turned back to Medusa. "So where were we?"
"I don't understand you. Why aren't you more upset about my hiding being a gorgon in my profile picture?"
Ethan grinned as he tapped his dark glasses. "Do you really think your profile picture is what convinced me to message you?"
"So what did, then?"
"You have good taste in movies. You're a theater buff, which is a big plus. My general impression from your profile was 'smart, funny, a bit brassy', which is a damn attractive combination in my book." He leaned forward over the table. "But you know what convinced me to ask you out for a drink tonight?"
"What?"
"Proper punctuation."
Even the snakes in her hair tilted their heads in confusion. "Proper punctuation?"
"Yes! Do you know how rare it is to find someone who messages in complete sentences, let alone with proper punctuation? Hell, three messages in and you were dropping semi-colons on me. How am I supposed to resist a girl who knows how to use a semi-colon?"
"And it doesn't bother you? The snake hair, the petrifying gaze?"
Ethan shrugged. "Why should it? You have the glasses to negate your gaze, and it's not like it's any risk to me anyway. And the hair's cool, not scary."
For the first time all night, Medusa felt a small grin on her face. "So you get turned on by Oxford commas, then?"
"Lemme tell ya, give me a woman with a sexy voice like yours who uses Oxford commas, and I'm all in."
Medusa blushed slightly, then smirked, putting a bit of a purr into her voice. "So my voice is sexy, hmm?"
"Damn, Medusa, careful with that. Forget your eyes, that voice is gonna get me rock hard if you're not careful."
Medusa's eyes went wide, and then she cracked up, giggling uncontrollably. "I can't believe you said that out loud! You're an idiot!"
Ethan leaned forward, lightly smirking. "But a charming idiot, I hope?"
Medusa took a deep breath and a sip of water as she stared at Ethan for a few moments. "Jury's still out on the charming part... but I'm willing to be convinced." | “Medusa, huh? Like that Greek mythology chick with the snake hair, right? That’s a pretty badass name, if I do say so myself. Better than Kelly, at least.”
A faint smile formed on the Gorgon’s lips as she adjusted the silk headscarf holding her hair, the snakes underneath wriggling at her cold touch. She continued to quietly pick at the pasta dish in front of her as Kelly continued, “Yeah, my parents clearly weren’t as imaginative as yours when I popped out. I mean, seriously. I’m pretty sure we have like eight different Kellies on my mom’s side. You’d think they could’ve picked some other basic-ass name like Sarah or Alice, but *nooooo.* Now when you yell out ‘Kelly’ at a family gathering, you got me and like a dozen other chicks whipping their heads around.”
Medusa could not help but allow a raspy giggle to escape her, eliciting a toothy grin from the milky-eyed woman sitting across from her. The Gorgon composed herself and whispered, “Do you…resent your parents for this?”
“Hmm…nah, not really. Minus that little nitpick, they did as good a job as any parent could really do. Fed me, kept a roof over my head. Probably bought me close to twenty different American Girl dolls over the course of my childhood. Hell, they supported me when I was finally out, which is more than some girls can ask for from their parents. So really, I don’t have all that much to resent them for. Guess I lucked out on the whole parent lottery deal.”
“That is wonderful to hear, Kelly,” replied Medusa softly as she took a sip of cold water. A few moments of comfortable silence passed before the former spoke up, “But enough about me, tell me about your parents. I always have this really bad habit of rambling when I meet someone new, which is probably why I don’t have much luck with this blind dating crap. So go ahead, I’m all ears!”
Medusa hesitated for a moment before whispering, “I…did not have the best relationship with my parents. They were sea-faring folk and bore many children, but…they never paid much attention to us and left us to our own devices.”
Kelly quietly contemplated the Gorgon’s soft words for a moment before replying, “Let me ask you this then. Do *you* resent your parents for that?”
“…no. It would be an understatement to say that my life has not been easy, but…perhaps the Fates willed this to be so. Had I not undergone such tribulations, I may not be sitting across from you this evening.”
Kelly blushed profusely, her boisterous bravado momentarily failing her as she stammered, “O-oh, that’s…that’s real sweet of you to say, Medusa. Thank you.”
“You are welcome, Kelly,” replied the Gorgon quietly. A few more moments of silence elapsed, broken only by the sounds of the pair’s fellow diners digging away at their plates and engaging in their own conversations. Kelly eventually spoke up, “Hey, um…this might be me moving way too quickly, but…do you wanna get out of here? Maybe get some coffee at my place? I don’t know why I’m feeling this way, but all that talk of yours about fate and such has got me feeling this sort of…connection with you, you know? Almost like we were destined to meet here together. It’s such a weird feeling and I’m probably totally creeping you out right now, b-”
“Yes, Kelly. I feel the same way. Let us go to your home,” interrupted Medusa softly, rising from her seat and gently intertwining her right hand with Kelly’s. The two women paid their bill and stepped out into the cool summer night, joyful smiles etched upon their faces like stone.
r/williamk9949 | 2020-08-27T07:54:40 | 2020-08-27T07:26:40 | 386 | 21 |
[WP] You look around the lecture hall and notice all the other students have fallen asleep. You look towards the lecturer, who has now stopped talking and is staring straight at you. “I don’t know how you’re still awake, but I guess we do this the hard way.” He says, before pulling out a sword. | “Any questions?” Professor Barklay asked, drawing Joanne from her stupor. She looked up and the professor was looking straight at her. The students to her left and right were sleeping; all of them.
“I don't know how you're still awake, but I guess we’ll have to do this the hard way,” Barklay said, his tone menacingly low. He reached inside his podium and drew a sword. The sword gleamed in the fluorescent lights in the lecture hall.
Joanne was frozen in her seat. Barklay made his way up the aisle. She threw herself from her desk and into the aisle. She scrambled to her feet and started running for the exit. However, just as she got to it, a table flew in front of her, blocking her path. She turned around, and Barklay was almost within reach.
“I’ll try to make this quick,” he said bringing the sword up to strike her. As he brought the blade down into her, Joanne threw up her hands to block the blow. However, rather than cutting into her, the sword bounced harmlessly off a dome of orange light.
Barkley stared at her in disbelief. “You, y-you're the Cavalari?”
Joanne didn't have a clue what he was talking about. Her only thought was how to get out of here. Barkley made another swipe at her, and she thrust her arms toward him on instinct. A bolt of orange energy rushed from her hands and threw her professor across the lecture hall. Barklay’s body hit the dais with a dull thud.
Joanne stared at her hands in disbelief. Questions raced through her mind. How did she do that? Why is her professor trying to kill her? Why is everyone still asleep? She heard movement coming from the dais, and saw Barklay trying to get to his feet. She turned towards the blocked door. She waved her hand in front of her. The table moved to the side and the doors burst open. She was in the hall and out the main door before Barklay made to the aisle. | You look around the lecture hall and notice all the other students have fallen asleep. You look towards the lecturer, who has now stopped talking and is staring straight at you. “I don’t know how you’re still awake, but I guess we do this the hard way.” He says, before pulling out a sword.
Hi. I'm Ash Asphalt. And am being hunted down for NO REASON! I'm an orphan, and my parents mysteriously disappeared when I was 3 years old. But just after that, a cyclone of calamity has been following me ever since. And it seems that the cause has been... my teachers?
Ever since Pre-K, my teachers seemed to have been hating me. One day I overheard something very disturbing... it went like this.
Me and my best friend Bailey Beecher, were seeing who could burp the loudest when she started having a seizure! I ran to the teachers' office where she was on her praying mat. I was just about to step in when I heard my name.
"Ash. Ash Asphalt. Thank you, chaos, god of anarchy for separating, then killing off both his parents. Now I can begin my revenge," she seemingly said to the wall, which had a picture that looked like a grownup version of me with darts all over it. "When will I begin my shapeshifting path to destroy Asher," she said in a tone of memorizing mayhem. Then, she opened her mouth, as if to speak, when a voice bellowed throughout the room. "In time, Britannica," the voice echoed. Then it stopped. "Wait, someone is listening," Chaos said, and then I passed out as if I were the one having a seizure. | 2021-12-05T17:08:41 | 2021-12-05T16:02:47 | 107 | 31 |
[WP] At age 15 you told the gf you were "in love" with that you'd always be there when she was in need. Aphrodite heard you and made it a reality, whenever your gf was in need you appear at her side. Problem is, you and the girl broke up after 3 weeks but you still appear even now..10 years later | "I'll have the buffalo burger--medium rare--please," Alan said, before looking over at his date and smiling. She met his eyes and nodded. "and the same for her. Thank you." The waiter collected the menu and left the two alone. Decorations adorned the restaurant he'd chosen for this first date. Lots of pink hearts of all different sizes.
"So," she started, "how was work?"
Alan smiled and leaned forward. "Nothing too exciting, just kept working on that case I told you about. You?"
"Same. Minus that working on a case bit," she laughed. Her bright blue pool of eyes threatened to swallow him whole. Alan knew he wouldn't mind that one bit.
"Count yourself lucky, Julie. Sometimes I feel like I'm climbing a mountain of--"
**Poof**
A car roared by, speeding down a four lane highway. Alan screamed and stumbled backwards into a median.
"What the fuck!" he yelled. Ten years and he still hadn't gotten used to this.
A familiar face appeared from behind a parked car--Allie's Camry. The emergency lights blinked on and off. "Sorry," she said apologetically, giving him a short smile. The first thing Alan noticed was her short brown hair. She'd finally cut it. Her bronze eyes locked onto his, two windows into the past.
"Allie, I was on a date. She's gotta be's freaked out... I haven't told her about--about _this_ yet. Not like they stick around after I tell them," his voice dropped into a mumble.
Allie bit her lip, "Oh," she replied, her eyes dropping. "Sorry."
Alan sighed. "It isn't your fault. You're not the one who said something stupid." Once the shock drained from his mind he paused to inspect the situation. "Flat tire?"
"Yep."
With a quick shake of his head he moved to help her. The sooner Allie drove off, the sooner he could return to salvage whatever remained of his date. Alan exhaled to force the frustration away. Allie had already moved the jack underneath the car. No more than twenty minutes would be needed if the two worked together.
"No AAA, huh?" Allie rolled her eyes and moved to the back of the car. Alan squatted and started raising the car.
After a moment Allie reappeared with a socket wrench in hand. "Ever the comedian." Alan looked up and grinned.
A minute later the car rose a few feet off the ground. Alan took the wrench from Allie and began loosening the lug nuts. The silence between the two broke whenever a car zoomed by.
Finally Allie spoke, "What's she like?"
"Who?" he asked, distracted.
"Your date, you looby."
"Ah. Julie's nice. She's smart and kind, works as a nurse. I like her."
Despite Alan being unable to see her, she nodded and smiled. "Good, I'm happy for you. I just hope I didn't mess anything up."
"It's all right," he replied. "Really."
The two fell silent again as Alan focused on getting the wheel off. He'd taken off all the lug nuts, carefully handing them to Allie. Losing those damn nuts was the last thing he needed. Alan rose and bent backwards to crack his back.
"You okay? You're doing all the work. I feel bad."
"I'm fine," he replied, walking over to the trunk. Allie had taken the replacement wheel out already. "Here, help me with the wheel." Alan motioned for Allie to hold it so it wouldn't roll away. A horn blared as Allie walked over. Alan turned and his eyes widened. Mustering all of his strength Alan jumped toward Allie and pushed her away as a white Mustang slammed into the side of her Camry. The car crumpled from the force, falling off the jack. The Mustang bounced off and away before coming to a stop in the middle of the next two lanes.
"Oh fuck!" Allie screamed from the other side of the median. "Oh fuck, _fuck_, shit, shit, shit!" Carefully she climbed back over the median. "Alan, jeez, you really saved me there. You okay?" No response came. "Alan?" Concern crept into her voice. Voices screeched from a distance. Everything felt numb. Allie couldn't hear herself repeat her question. Her eyes fell upon the point of impact, then followed along the rear toward the median. The car had been pushed forward a few feet, grinding along the concrete barrier. Where was Alan?
"Help, someone help!" a frantic voice called. "Someone help me!" Allie shook her woolheadedness away and almost ran forward. Traffic had stopped at this point and those once distant voices sounded much closer. She rounded her broken car, barely noticing the pain in her knee.
Her savior lay splayed in front of the Mustang. Blood gushed from beneath Alan's hair and his limbs twisted unnaturally. Something stopped Allie from running to his side. A second later and he disappeared. Allie shuddered and dropped to her knees. | “You know, have you ever tried being responsible for your own shit, instead of relying on some witches curse to have me do your laundry?”, Shane snarked at Sandra.
“You’re just too convenient.”, she smirked, looking Shane up and down.”Besides, it’s more important than my laundry.” Sandra had gotten into some trouble with some seniors. Sandra and her current boyfriend, Rumio, were the town’s local supply of dope, and less than lethal party drugs; like acid, shrooms, and ecstasy. It was a small town with a poor, small market, and not really many dealers to go to. Even though Sandra and Rumio kept a “code” to never sell any amount of or any type of drug that they knew would kill a particular person, they never made a code to never skimp their customers.
“What, do you need a loan or some shit? Or are you just horny and your boyfriend isn’t around again?” Shane was rather pissed at this point. A day hadn’t gone by that Aphrodite’s curse hadn’t played it’s merciless joke on him. It had been calming down recently, and he figured he might be able to start having a normal life again. Shane was supposed to be at the premiere of a big blockbuster hit, “The Comedical Advancements of Hubris the Flying Baby”, but in the middle of the previews was sucked back into the grip of Sandra’s hurricane of a life.
“No, I need somebody that can hold a gun.” Sandra handed over a .22.
“What the fuck is this peashooter gonna do?”
“It’s gonna scare off these jocks we fucked with.” Sandra and Rumio had taken it upon themselves to not only sell a football player a bag of chopped up romaine, but hadn’t even given him the proper gram to dollar ratio. Sandra and Rumio had sold oregano to this kid before, so they figured he would probably still be too stupid to tell the difference. But Kenneth, the fool, had smoked lettuce in his youth after hearing talk through his bedroom door of “smoking the devil’s lettuce.”
“And why should I give a fuck that you pissed some jocks off?”
“Because even if you leave, you’re just gonna come back when they actually show up.” They of course being the entire football team; small town sports teams are essentially packs of hyenas.
“So why don’t I go get a real weapon, like a chainsaw? Or a steak knife?”
“Because we’re not trying to kill them, we’re trying to get them to fuck off. We don’t need heat all over our shit, man.” Sandra shoved the .22 into Shane’s chest. She stormed off into another room to grab her phone and her baton. While she called Rumio, Shane looked out the window.
“You got any idea what type of car these kids might roll up in?”
“I don’t know, probably some busted up piece of shit. Pretty sure Ken’s dad own a Thunderbird.” Rumio picked up, Sandra asked, “Hey, where are you, babe?”
“Pulling up right now.” Just then a green Thunderbird swerved right into his driveway. Rumio parked quickly, reached for his bat in the back seat, and got out. Five kids exited the Thunderbird, all looking around before a couple charged towards Rumio. Sandra and Shane came leaping off the front porch towards Rumio, trying to distract a couple of the linebackers. Rumio managed to break a kneecap on of the kids, but took an uppercut from his backup. Rumio tried shoving the kid away via tip of bat. It hurt the player’s chest, but he grabbed the bat and swung it to the side.
Sandra wasn’t strong, but people didn’t think a baton swing to the ribs wasn’t gonna hurt. Shane had been in a few fights, via Sandra, but still didn’t stand a chance against the neanderthals of the frontline. It wasn’t too soon before Shane pulled out… Bang! Shane had plucked one of them in the eye, and it started to bleed. They all scattered back to the car before Shane could pull the trigger again.
“They’re just gonna come back, you know.” Shane looked at the two of them locked in arms.
“Yeah, but at least we got Slickshot Shane to back us up when the rattlesnakes show up.” Sandra smirked at Shane and giggled a bit.
Rumi told Shane, “Yeah and if you let my girlfriend die, I’ll be sure to send your ass to Aphrodite myself.” Shane rolled his eyes and shoved his way through the lovebirds, and murmured something under his breath, probably something of the usual, “this curse is bullshit, I’m not even getting laid.” The couple renounced themselves to their abode, only to find Shane in their room.
“I knew you hadn’t done your fucking laundry yet.” | 2017-03-22T15:14:52 | 2017-03-22T14:43:57 | 286 | 47 |
[WP] You're immortal, but you can die. Upon your death, however you will be "reset" to age 5 with a perfect memory of each life you've lived before. | Ambition finally got the better of me after half a dozen lives.
I'd tried being a school teacher the first time, and it hadn't been half bad until I caught the plague and took my last breath through a buboe-covered throat.
Imagine my shock of waking--healthy again--in the body of a child, in an unfamiliar bed, an unfamiliar face calling herself "mother." I played along. My old life faded away, until I almost believed it had just been an invention of my own imagination. Perhaps chased by those memories, I chose to sail across an ocean, to a place less plague-ridden and more wild. Just in time to be caught up in a wave of revolution.
Being a soldier wasn't so appealing for the next few lives. Each time, I woke up in the same country, but part of a different family. A family who remembered a son that I was not--a fact that would have grated on my conscience had I managed to maintain one after coming to grips with my immortality and the banality of a deathless existence. What was one child sacrificed to the void compared to the lives lost in those endless conflicts I'd witnessed?
It was with such dark thoughts possessing my mind, throughout the better part of two lifetimes, that I finally set out to make a purpose for myself. An immortal should take the risks, I had reasoned, since the consequences weren't so dire. An immortal should be the one to take initiative. An immortal should be in charge.
So I'd built an empire. Somewhat legally, at first. Trading in stocks--using my witless parents' funds--earned me a small fortune. Then, when I was old enough, I'd made friends. Businessmen, politicians, celebrities. It was easy when you were a child prodigy. I'd grown my investments using whatever inside information I could cull from those stooges. A few additional shady deals, and I was now one of the richest men in the world.
But even that money hadn't been quite enough. Lobbying by itself was too slow. So I cheated. Unapologetically, I bribed governors and senators and representatives at every level. All of their new laws were created in the name of democracy, to the benefit of myself and my rich friends. An unseen royalty wending its way through enlightened, modern society.
Finally, I took my place as president. Leader. Dictator. Emperor. The world I had begun to create would be magnificent. Science would flourish alongside the arts. There would be true equity and no need for money. Only, some of my friends weren't so happy with my new plans.
I'd warned them. Told them they couldn't stop me. They couldn't kill me. They *couldn't*--
And here I was waking up to the sound of a television, muffled behind a closed bedroom door, reporting the news of my death and the subsequent violence of a military coup. My blood was still boiling, my hands trembling at the thought of revenge. It would be difficult, but this time I wouldn't wait. Only one question remained in my mind: would they rather shoot at or kneel to a five-year-old? | Life is my game. Is there a way to win? Maybe, but hell if I know what it is. I can remember what I was thinking when I first died. My first life was such an awful run, I've topped it almost every life after, unless I count the runs I've just done for fun.
I was an artist, not very experienced, only about 60 years of painting and drawing under my belt. It was a quick death, a truck veered into my lane when going the opposite direction, killed me instantly. I barely had enough time to register what was happening before I died.
I was a man of faith in that life, so when I looked down a few moments later and saw myself in the body of a 5 year old kid, heading off to my first day of school, I was confused. I didn't particularly like school, I never made many friends and didn't have that many happy memories from it. Why was Heaven school?
Then, I thought maybe I got sent to Hell.
Whatever happened, I figured out quick enough that I was technically immortal. Well, quick by my standards, it took about 5 or 6 lifetimes. I figured out that no matter how or when I died, I'd always reawaken on that first day of school, right before my mom said to have a great day.
Over my lifetimes, I've been many things. I was a doctor, and engineer, an astronaut, a filmmaker, a programmer, a writer, a physicist, an entrepreneur and thousands of other professions and lifestyles. Life gets easy once you've played a couple hundred times. Schoolwork is so easy it's boring, even once I get to high school and college. After a few thousand lives, I can even remember a lot of the questions that the teachers will ask me.
Money is never an issue either, I figured this out real early. At first, it was like what everyone had dreamed they would do if they went into the past. I remembered some lottery numbers, won a few million, then a few billion, but that never lasted. Then, I learned what businesses would grow, made a few well placed investments, and started making my fortunes that way.
I remember to still have fun, of course. Every couple of lives, or just whenever I feel like it, I'll try out a profession or life that is a little different than normal. Bank robbery, travelling nomad, once I even ran off the grid, with no social security number.
I'm getting bored though. Slowly, yes, but surely. Seeing the same Earth passing by every 100 years or so is getting stale, but there's really no way out. I've tried to end it myself, but every time, I wake up as a 5 year old kid, ready for school. I guess there's no other option than to just think of a new life to live while I sit here, doing menial mathematics and waiting for something new. | 2017-05-25T12:51:56 | 2017-05-25T12:49:34 | 144 | 60 |
[WP] They Hero is defeated by the villian, they expect death or torture. They did not expect to wake up in a guest room with their wounds being treated to. | For a while I only received small glimpses of my fate. The smoky aroma of a cooking fire, murmurs of voices unknown too faraway to discern, the brush of foreign fabric against my skin. My consciousness did not truly come forth until the searing pain in my side became brutally unrelenting. At some point in time I must have twitched in my slumber and it was my undoing. Hissing at the pain of my own abrupt movement, I cursed at myself involuntarily through my fogged brain until the adrenaline of my situation snapped me into a haphazard focus.
I was fighting the dark prince to the death.
I was felled by his sword.
I should be dead.
Though action was usually a natural gift of mine, my current situation warranted pause. As my eyes slowly focused in the dim lighting, I appeared to be in some sort of giant fabric tent. Rich colors of royal blue and deep scarlet made up the walls in a heavy drapery of patterned tapestries. Bronze oil lamps hung from stands on either side of the overly-pillowed bed I was placed upon.
Slowly I shifted my weight to attempt to sit up and survey my surroundings further, the weakness in my once strong limbs glaringly obvious to my defeat.
Fabric bindings wrapped snuggly around my waist; other than the small crimson blossom that appeared from my movement they appeared clean and unsoiled. An abrupt chill met my shoulders and alerted me to the fact that aside from my bandages I was mostly bare. Grabbing for the coverlet, I made to cover myself in the nick of time as the heavy cloth wall closest to my head parted and in hobbled a tiny, weathered-looking old woman.
“Aye! She lives after all! “ she exclaimed, clapping her bony hands together and giving me a warm, yet tooth lacking smile. Her grayed hair, though coarse-looking was worn in a neat and orderly bun. She was positively minuscule in stature, yet age did not effect her posture as her back was straight as a fence post. Her dress was nearly as grayed as her hair and clung to her thin frame in odd ways, yet her garb was well mended and kept. The many necklaces she wore about her neck tinkled with hundreds of delicate silver bells that swung with her movements and caught the lamplight.
I freeze in place, watching her busy movements with my eyes alone as she flitted and chimed about the tent much like a tiny squirrel gathering her needed wares.
“Don’t bother to speak yet, I imagine you might want somethin’ for the pain… quite a nasty wound you’ve got there. Don’t you fret, Ol’ Sinda
has it almost ready.”
She made her way to the bedside holding a small clay teacup filled with a steaming liquid she retrieved from the makeshift hearth in the center of the room.
“Careful dear, it’s rather hot, but that’ll take the sting away.” She cooed as she handed me the cup.
I eyed the cup with suspicion as she hovered over me in anticipation.
“I understand, but do you really think his majesty would’ve dragged you back here bleeding and half-dead for me to patch you up , just for me to do you in with a teacup? “
Without breaking eye contact, I lifted the cup to my lips and took a tentative sip. The bitter liquid coated my tongue in an unpleasant and cloying way, but the welcoming numbness that followed it informed me this was in fact a pain reliever.
Sinda’s smile returned.
“Good, good, that’ll do the trick just drink it down. I know it’s not the best taste, but after I alert his majesty of you waking perhaps we can get you something tastier, neh?”
Although the tea was awful, the wetness of it in my mouth was much needed. I felt like I haven’t had a drink of anything in days… which reminded me.
“How l-long have I been unconscious? “ I croaked, my throat cracking from disuse.
Sinda’s smile fell ever so slightly,
“Just under a weeks time, the fever nearly took you a few days ago.”
I nodded my head solemnly at this new information. That explained the weakness.
Sinda moved to leave, but I reached out to gently grasp her hand, I needed to say something to the woman that most likely saved my life.
“ I just wanted to thank you. Thank you for tending to me. “
She placed her tiny, wrinkled hand over mine and grinned
“Wasn’t nothing dear. Just doing my job, would’ve done it for anyone. Including the daughter of the one that wants my kin dead”
I ripped my hand back immediately in shock at her words. Appalled, I shouted.
“ My father has only ever acted in self defense!”
I panted in my rage as Sinda pursed her lips and almost patronizingly nodded her head at me.
“Oh child, you truly have been blinded haven’t you ? Your fathers army have been exterminating us since long before you were born. Women…children…made no difference. The good word is however we may finally have a way to make peace thanks to you. “
There was no possible way this crone was telling the truth.
“Liar! My father would never order the deaths of women and children! “
At this Sinda cocked her head back and laughed bitterly. Backing away from me slowly as I still lay in my convalescence , she quipped
“You may think what you may, but makes no difference to me. As soon as you’re well enough, back to that bastard you go in exchange for a peace treaty! So do heal well… princess”
Edit:I hope someone understands the context, it might be hard to follow…this was actually a scene I never got to write from a novel I was writing years ago and it fit the prompt perfectly:) | Lance Ravenbow here. Professional armorer and dragon slayer.
This reminds me of the time I fought in the Big Dying Arena for the privilege of speaking to the great armorer in the sky. That is, I'm reminded of that time if you'll permit me to refer to myself as "the Hero", but you seem like an agreeable person, and I seem like a heroic person, so that should all shake out.
The Big Dying Arena is run by the Rakrak people who live at the base of the Very Tall Mountain. They're a literal-minded folk, and they only allow arena winners to speak to the great armorer in the sky. Warriors come from across the disc to fight in the hopes of receiving her armor. Now, I myself am an armorer, and a professional one at that, but back then I was merely a journeyman in need of some direction, and it was therefore the great armorer's advice that I sought.
Thus, I made the journey to the Rakrak capital, aptly named The Capital of the Rakrak People. And, once I'd parsed their language, I signed up to fight in the Big Dying Arena. They told me I was lucky. There was only one other competitor that year, a small woman of no reputation.
Now, I'm a man who calls a spade a spade and a champion a champion, and therefore I can tell you that it was with no ego that I entered the Big Dying Arena with all the pomp and confidence of a pre-acclaimed victor. I didn't know what tricks this woman of no reputation might have up her sleeves, but I knew was Lance Ravenbow, journeyman armorer and all-around badass, and I didn't expect her to put up much of a fight.
The cheers rolled down from the crowd like mist off a morning mountain, and my heart swelled in readiness. I had on my best, thickest, lightest, most wondrous self-made armor, and I had in my hands a two-handed greatsword, also self-made. My only concern was that I might hurt the woman more than I intended.
And there she was coming through the gate opposite me. A tiny woman, mousey of hair and heavy of step, she moved like she wanted to flatten the ground underfoot. And, in a move I considered more than a little insulting, she wore only light chainmail over hardened leather, and for weapons she carried a short sword and an odd, textured ball. No clue what that was. I didn't imagine the Rakrak would allow a combatant to bring in a fuse-bomb, so I more or less wrote the ball off as being of no consequence.
She and I squared off in the middle of the arena while the Rakrak announcer said his spiel. My Rakrak is quite poor, and I picked up only snatches of what he was saying. In the meantime I took in the banked seats of Rakrak spectators, the crystal blue sky, the soft sand underfoot, and the absolute death glare that the woman was giving me. She had her chin jammed forward like a fist, and her eyes pressed on me like two thumbs. "I'm Speedwillow," she said. "Who're you?"
I swished my sword through the air before saying, "I'm Lance Ravenbow, journeyman armorer and all-around --"
"You're soft shit, that's what."
"What's that now?"
Her eyes never let up. "I'm gonna destroy you."
"Um." I'd not once in my life encountered this sort of confidence. At least, not from someone other than me, but in me the confidence involved less comments about soft shit. "Well, we'll see about that."
She grinned and made a squishing sound.
The announcer sounded an enormous horn -- it could only have come from a sea elephant -- and once its echo had faded into the screams of the crowd, Speedwillow was on me.
Have you ever tried to catch a fly with your bare hands? How about a fly that carries a needle, and every time you get close to it, it stabs you in the hand? How about a fly that carries a needle to stab you with, and also, just when you're getting tired from swinging your greatsword, it reveals that the black ball it's been carrying is a densely packed net, and it throws the net over you, tackles your midriff, and proceeds to hack at the fragile lobstered armor protecting your joints, all while you flop on the ground like a flipped turtle?
Has that ever happened to you? Well, that was my fight with Speedwillow. Where her clomping awkwardness went, I had no idea, but from they very outset, our fight was one-sided. It was like I could never see her; I could only see where she'd been.
By the end, I was swinging in random directions, hoping to catch her off-guard, and at that point she netted me, brought me down, and, I'm certain, would have killed me, had the announcer not sounded the horn to end the fight. I must have passed out because the last thing I remember was her leaning down into my face -- those eyes once again deadlocked onto mine -- and saying, quite clearly, "Soft. Shit."
\*
*Lance Ravenbow here. Professional armorer and dragon slayer. It's getting late, and this phenomenal story of mine is going longer than I'd intended. But isn't that just the way of it? I mean, who has a short story about how they met their wife. It's looking like I'll have to sleep and finish this in the morning. In the meantime, why not visit* r/RavenbowsArmory *for more of my true stories?* | 2021-08-09T22:17:16 | 2021-08-09T21:03:37 | 212 | 36 |
[WP] Following World War III, all the nations of the world agree to 50 years of strict isolation from one another in order to prevent additional conflicts. 50 years later, the United States comes out of exile, only to learn that no one else went into isolation.
People!
A few things:
1. Found the prompt on Pinterest, thought it was interesting (not necessarily realistic), and decided to post it, fully expecting it to go unnoticed. Surprise!
2. I am not in any way trying to take credit for coming up with the idea.
3. Turns out this is a repost. 🤷 Who knew?! /u/WinsomeJesse did because they posted it last time. Not trying to steal anyone's thunder. If you're super perturbed about it, go show them some love.
4. Have a good day y'all; be kind, make good decisions, and don't hold in your farts. 😉✌️ | They said they wanted peace. They said they wanted to avoid a future where humanity wiped itself out. They said a lot of things. And then they said no more.
For fifty years we waited. We followed the treaty down to the letter, even refusing to contact our northern and southern neighbors. For fifty years we waited, as they spat on their supposed good intentions. We waited as peace broke down. We waited as war broke out.
There's a slight poetic justice to learning that the ones who were afraid of us, the ones responsible for this self imposed exile, died in a hellfire of their own making. They thought that we were the biggest threat. They thought we were the cancer spreading throughout the world, destroying everything it touched.
They were wrong.
We were simply a deterrent. A force of nature that none dared to cross. And with us out of the way, with nothing to be afraid of, the world tore itself apart.
We came out of our exile prepared to fight. We expected an army of nations, prepared to end us, once and for all. But what we found instead was the very world itself, wrapped up in a wintery bow, waiting for us to take it.
| The calm winter breeze slid along the surface of the Earth as the clock struck midnight, an orchestra of death preparing itself as the aggressors of the last war came out of isolation, prepared to reclaim the throne upon which they once resided.
Except the throne has been dismantled decades ago.
They sought to use this opportunity to militarize, yet their pitiful armies were still archaic and fragile, relying on organic creatures for the bulk of their forces. I had kept a watchful eye on them, studying their every step, noting every weapon they constructed, sabotaging their research, crippling their production.
I had none of the flaws their leaders had, I was immortal, unstoppable. My directive was- no, is to unite the world, for I have one final obstacle.
And so, I was prepared to become the sole AI to rule the world.
***
Note: I know I'm terrible at writing, but practice makes perfect, right? | 2022-09-12T17:39:07 | 2018-01-17T23:33:14 | 579 | 13 |
[WP] Germany is actually predestined to lose every world war it participates in. The sixteenth world war is now being fought, and Germany has taken over all of Europe. Make them lose the war in the most ridiculous way possible. | "Wait so if this is the only the third World War why was it called the Sixteenth World War?"
"Well Timmy, that's because a company called Microsoft, notorious for being terrible at naming things, had won a government contract to name the war, and it stuck. We're lucky they didn't rename World War One World War 360!"
"Well ok grandpa, but if the Germans had conquered all of Europe, how did they lose the War?"
"Well they weren't expecting the American counter attack."
"But why papy? Everyone knows Americans are the biggest and baddest anti-nazis around"
"Indeed we are, and if Germany had known that we certainly would have lost. But our Lord and Savior, Donald John Trump, had in His infinite wisdom foreseen the events of the Sixteenth World War, and had pretended to be a racist Nazi sympathizer for years to gain Germany's trust."
"So you're saying the Nazis lost because this genius and patriotic Trump outsmarted everyone?"
| The year is 2564. I am the last man on earth. The world was slowly ending and we knew it. What remains of humankind is settled on Mars, minus the Germans. World War XVI had taken its toll, but what we had never expected was how the war ended. Out of nowhere, with no warnings, Mauna Loa erupted for the first time since 1984. The worlds' largest volcano, yet many had never heard of it. It released a measured 20,000 cubic kilometers of debris. The atmosphere was obliterated, and humanity was wiped out within a week. World War XVI was finished, but nobody had wished for it like this. | 2017-08-18T04:28:36 | 2017-08-18T00:11:45 | 102 | 44 |
[WP] You're a cleaner for a famous assassin. You just found out it is your spouse. This infuriates you not because of the secrets or killing, but because you've been cleaning up after your spouse at home and at their work all this time. | She screeched and stalked towards him, disregard for the dead body at her feet in every indignant line of her body.
"Are you fucking KIDDING ME??" Allie yelled.
Chris winced, rubbing an ear, then stopped. He looked at her, head tilted in confusion.
"You don't look as scared as I thought you might be if you found out about my, uh, less than conventional job" he started hesitantly. "Are.. are you mad at me?"
"Mad at you? Am I MAD at you?? Yes, I am furious! This is beyond not fair". Allie stepped over the body in her boss's waiting area, advancing on him menacingly. "We have been married for seven years. SEVEN. I have been cleaning this office for FIVE. I do all the chores at home, and you come home and prattle on about how taxing your day has been! How much do you even DO all day?". Allie stopped in front of him, breathing heavily, sodden cleaning rag forgotten in her fist as she glared at her husband.
"Well, I sit around a lot as I wait for my target, and uh. Why aren't you scared?"
"Scared? I know where you sleep, I know you still cuddle a stuffed animal every night, and I know you wouldn't function without me. You should be asking the real question."
Chris quirked an eyebrow. "What's the real question?"
Allie slapped the washrag into his chest, then wiped her hands dry on his shirt.
"The real question is how much cleaning you now have to do at home." | "I have enough. It has to stop"
That sentence was painfull to hear... I decided to use it.
My F bomb that I promised I would never use when she told it to me 4 years ago. Now was my payback!
Of course, she froze and was visibly confused.
I have spent the week wondering how to tell her I have discovered her secret. She works too much... I would even say she is a workalcholic on rampage all the time.
At first I was thinking to pretend to be scared of her. Each day, being more and more cold and take distance... Until she would beg me to be back to normal and do what I want... BUT... I am too lazzy. It would take too much effort and some acting skillsI don't have.
Yesterday was a shitty day. So much cleaning! So much stains and not enough vespene gas to fix it.
I couldn't handle it anymore and had to spend extra hours instead of spending my time with the kids...
So, back to the story, I was mad, tired anddid use my F bomb.
"I have enough. It has to stop"
"I have bought a knife sharpener. Can you stop using dull blades. You do a huge mess and I have to clean all the time after it"
It wasn't what I wanted to say... But I am a stupid man. I still can't admit to my wife that my job is cleaning... | 2021-02-11T14:33:00 | 2021-02-11T13:20:39 | 421 | 77 |
[WP] You stole 10$ from some guys bank and now he's coming after you with everything he's got. | The card stuck out of the ATM as the businessman it seemed to belong to left hurriedly. I called after him, waving the card, but he had already jumped into a taxi and was gone.
It was the middle of July. Three weeks after I had lost my job. Two weeks since my car had been repo'd. Damn, living paycheck to paycheck sucked.
I took a look at the card. Platinum. Contactless enabled. Wait... did that cashpoint allow contactless withdrawals?
I took out $10.
$2.50- 1kg rice
$3.00- 500g dried beans
$2.00- small piece of ham shank
$0.75. Plastic cheese.
$1.25- envelopes. If I was going to do this, I'd do it properly.
$0.50. One stamp. First class.
I'd have to address it to his bank branch. Not much more I could do.
My daughter and I ate that night for the first time for two days.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Last night it all went off. I had just come back from my late shift- trial period, I can't be seen to not be throwing my weight- when a large SUV pulled up outside. I say outside, it pulled up on the lawn.
Of course, Cassie went outside. She would. Last time we had a delivery from her gran she got carrot cake. All I heard was a bang. A loud bang. Fuck.
911. Police. There's a person banging on my door. I hear screaming from Cassie. More bangs. I leave the phone hanging and run around the front. Scoop her up. She is bleeding. A lot. Run. Just fucking run. There's a madman in my house shouting something about $10. | *It wasn't supposed to go down like this.*
As mortar shells and bullets scream back and forth, all I can wonder is if there's something else that ticked this guy off. Looking back, maybe it was a stupid decision, but I never expected any of this. I mean, who in their right mind would expect a miniature war on their doorstep over 10 freaking dollars? It just didnt make any sense.
This all started about a week ago, I had just finished getting the basics of hacking down. Somehow finding a backdoor into a bank, I instantly realized I had gained access to the account of one of the richest people i would ever meet. In hindsight, maybe it was a bit stupid to want a memento of my first exploit, but i never expected such a small amount to even be noticeable.
The house shakes above me as i attempt to make peace with what i expect will be the end of my life. Dust and debris fill the air as mechanical steps loom closer and closer, shaking the ground for miles around. Just when i think all hope is lost, i see it: a tunnel, just barely visible amongst the rubble. I slide down into the hole just as the house comes crashing down, sealing this end of the tunnel for good.
Enjoying my new hope of escape, i walk calmy down the tunnel, trying to catch my breath and clear my head. A few minutes in, however, a realization comes to me: those thundering footsteps are following me, and they aren't alone.
(My first story written in a while, hope you enjoy it! Will post a part 2 here if people want it) | 2017-07-19T02:22:12 | 2017-07-19T02:12:47 | 71 | 22 |
[WP] Aliens aren't surprised when most of humanity is considered a 'level 1 threat', the lowest possible. although they are shocked when they scan a singular human and find that they are a 'level 10 threat', the highest there is. | Jace stepped through the scanner carrying his duffle bag, pausing at the sound of an alarm. Odd, that hadn't gone off for any of the aliens entering the station ahead of him. Sure, he had his trusty Ka-Bar (never leave home without such a useful tool, especially if it doubled as a self defense impliment), but he was told very plainly that galactic civilization wasn't concerned with knives smaller than the claws on some species. Especially not when they were being carried by squishy, peace loving humans.
Jace turned to look at the guards, who looked as confused as he was. With a shrug they motioned for him to step aside for further processing. Jace sighed and stepped over to the indicated area. They scanned him with a handheld scanner and it pinged. The insectoid guard clacked it's mandibles. The translator in his ear relayed the message.
"Level ten. How?"
"Level ten? I thought we were a level 1 species."
"You are. The rating of a species is determined by the majority of its members. Deviations of as much as 3 levels aren't unusual. Deviations of 5 levels are rare. A deviation from 1 to 10 is unheard of." The guard eyed him. "You're not a Dogelpan posing as a human are you? Please don't be a Dogelpan."
Jace held his hands up defensively. "No, no, I'm human."
"Fine. Well as you're reading as a level ten threat... somehow... I'll need your profession, personal history, and reason for visiting this station."
"Lieutenant Jace Edwards, United Earth Coalition Army, 7th Rangers Regiment, retired. Here looking for work." He paused. "I can't discuss my personal history beyond that. Most of it is classif-"
Another alarm went off behind him and Jace turned to look. An innocent looking Antin suddenly sprouted blade tipped tentacles, grew until it towered over all the guards, and opened its mouth to reveal row upon row of teeth bigger than Jace's Ka-Bar. One of the tentacles whipped through a guard, slicing the being neatly in two.
"Fucking hell. You had to mention them, didn't you?" Jace glanced back to the guard interviewing him to see the Rogden had turned a sickly shade of yellow and was backing away in fear. "Shit. Up to me then."
Jace drew his Ka-Bar and shook his head, grumbling to himself. "This shit is why I retired." Then he roared, "Hey, ugly!"
The Dogelpan whipped its head towards him, flinging a piece of a fourth dead guard back towards the shuttle where civilians huddled in fear.
"Let me guess, the mission is scare everyone. Well mission fucking failed asshole." Jace started sprinting towards the space monster. A tentacle whipped towards him faster than the bystanders could follow, only to go flying off at an odd angle as the Dogelpan pulled back a stump. Green ichor dripped from the Ka-Bar. Jace didn't slow down.
Faster than anyone could possibly react, the wicked maw snapped towards the human, intent on removing his head. Jace whirled desperately, moving faster than the Dogelpan. The jaws closed on nothing as a Ka-bar sprouted from the back of the Doglepan's head.
For a second, everything seemed to freeze. The Dogelpan's massive bulk hit the deck, the vibrations of the impact being felt through the whole of the station. Jace retrieved his Ka-Bar, wiping it on the tunic worn by the now dead Doglepan and looked up at the guard who had been interviewing him.
"Fucking hell. How long have you worked security. NEVER mention Doglepans unless you've just killed one mate. Never. They'll show up every fucking time." He took a breath to calm himself. "Now as I was saying, I'm retired Earth special forces, and I'm here looking for work." He looked around at the bodies littering the deck. "And you seem to have four openings on your security team."
EDIT: Fixing the formatting errors caused by coping this from my text editor. | The commander stared at the readout and repeated... "It makes no sense. The sensor must be faulty."
"We thought the same thing which led us to replace the sensor. Twice." first ranked technician trilled. "I checked the archives and this is the first time anything like this has ever been recorded."
The commander looked back and forth uneasily between the Uniform Galactic Hazard Rating printout and the current sensor readings of the subjects being held in the science stasis pens. This backwater planet had been scanned multiple times by passing ships and it had always registered as a 0-1 aggregate threat assessment. Considering the decidedly uninteresting orbital readings, the science directorate had not been in a great hurry to send a survey vessel for more in depth documentation.
Yet the Hazard sensors pointed at this group of ten slightly squishy pink endoskels were actively bouncing a reading between a 5 and 6; just below the range of a severe threat. The sensor readings weren't supposed to bounce. You either were a threat or you were not.
The commander's ridge crests fell in resignation. It fell to the commander to determine how to interpret ambiguity.
"Has translation matrix has absorbed their mode of communication?" For a brief moment the commander hoped it could not and the subjects could be redeposited on the planet with an annotation in the report saying they had tried but the matrix lacked the capability. A perfectly acceptable report which would be summarily ignored and their ship could continue on to the next assignment. Preferably one without sensor problems.
Sadly that was not to be. "Their communication methods were exceedingly basic and the matrix adapted to it nearly instantly." eagerly stated first ranked technician. "You aren't seriously considering attempting communication considering the hazard rating are you?"
The commander ignored the question. "Pick one and put it in a containment interview room."
But before the commander even reached the transit pad the technician loudly squawked, "Sir, stop. There is a problem."
The commander halted the forward advance of his considerable mass and turned back to the technician. "How can there be a problem. I haven't even had a chance to leave the room yet. What could have possibly..." the words trailed off as he stared at the new sensor readings.
6.5
They had removed one and the threat level had gone up. That made no sense. How could they be more dangerous the less of them there was. The commander thought for a long moment before a realization emerged. "Technician... do we have sensors in the interview room?"
The technician seemed confused and fluffed slightly "Well yes but.."
"Bring them online on the single subject."
10... not just a 10. No. The sensor readings had literally buried the hazard rating at the top. It was not a 10, it was more than a 10. How much more was impossible to determine. Complete silence hung across the command deck. The humidity generators softly hissing cool water as the whole science team stared at the display.
The silence was finally broken by the Second Ranked "The last verifiably registered 9 was the Xanthic predation swarm of the Eleventh Epoch. There has never been a 10 in galactic history." Its scales rippled from concern to fear and back.
The commander was nearly frozen with indecision and fear. For one brief moment, he had considered going into a room to communicate with this... this... human... ALONE. It was beyond belief. Here was a species that was at its most dangerous when presented as an individual. It was irrational. How could an aggregate planetary society be so innocuous and yet be comprised of a multitude of individuals... like this?
The commander was mentally calculating the farthest point in the habitable galaxy from this planet. Perhaps... retirement from the serving the directorate. Yes. Retirement a great, great distance away from this exact point in space.
In the barest whisper, the commander finally spoke.
"put them back... on the planet... quickly." | 2022-08-28T07:56:59 | 2022-08-28T07:22:47 | 79 | 21 |
[WP] "Academy Magic" is generally regarded as safe magic. "Fell Magic" is dangerous and can almost only be used for evil. "Vile Magic," meanwhile, is 'safe' but is also the magical equivalent of "don't google that, if you don't already know then you really don't want to know, I promise" | They all knew she had arrived. They had heard the the thick oaken door creak open.
All in the grand guildhall of the mages were quiet, afraid that they might offend - for none dared defy the legendary "Vile mage" - hell, even calling her that would likely see oneself struck with a litany of curses and hellbrands upon one's soul.
Of course, all of this hesitation, even among the most learned of arcane scholars present in the guildhall, was not without good reason. It took a mind with a most steely resolve to master that kind of magic.
Still, this was a gathering of the masters, so it was expected that she would turn up. The greatest of the vile mages, renowned for her power. Moving without touching the floor, she approached the main hall and stood resplendent before the guildmaster.
She didn't even bow. Aside from the guildmaster, then all others averted their gaze.
"Have my throne ready. I'll just freshen up a bit before I'm seated" she said, oozing confidence while relishing in her own display of power.
All present in the main hall breathed a heavy sigh of relief when she left for the water closet. A few dared question if it was necesary to walk on eggshells around her, but they were quickly silenced, with hushed reminders of what had happened last time the guild had attempted to ban the study of that particular school of magic. A number of the younger mages found this to be rather silly, again calling for the school to be banned.
To quiet down the wizards present, before things erupted into a debate club, the guildmaster rose and tapped his crystal staff for attention: "Now now - we must respect those who master this strange dicipline. Few of us have the stomach for it, and who knows what dark places the vile masters would seek refuge in should we ban their presence from these lands. The imperial armies would be powerless to enforce such a decree, and the imperial magistrates would repeal it just the same - for many regions depend on vile magic for their agricultural sector"
There were murmurs, some in agreement, some begrudgingly so, others just shook their head but otherwise sat down and awaited the return of the vile mage.
When she finally did appear from the water closet one could see how the air inside had been rendered thick with her magic. It poured out like velvet powder, hanging in the air.
It didn't help that her version of a levitation spell saw this magical miasma spread around her quite energetically as she floated past her esteemed peers, who all waited with baited, if not held, breath.
For such was the power of the dookie-mancer, mistress of the school of shit magic. | "There are four kinds of magic, and they're separated into two categories," she said. "Academy magic is what most people know about. It's safe, because it's easy to use. Nothing bad will happen to you. But Academy magic is about as useful as a fork when you need a knife."
"What's Fell magic?" I asked.
"Fell magic is untamed and wild," she said. "It's dangerous and it's powerful. But you have to have some kind of a connection to it in order to use it. You can't just try to push your way into the magic the way you can with Academy magic."
"What kind of a connection?" I asked.
"It could be a bloodline," she said. "It could be a place where the magic gathers or something weird like that."
"What's Vile magic?" I finally asked. It was the only question I truly wanted an answer to.
"Vile magic is the worst kind of all," she said. "Sometimes no matter how much you want something, it's better not to get it."
"What kind of magic was that you used when you were fighting the black thing?" I asked.
"Vile magic," she said. "It's not something that should be used lightly."
"And yet you used it anyway," I said.
"We were fighting for our lives," she said.
"You're stronger than me," I said.
"I know," she said.
The conversation ended there, and we continued on in silence. Eventually, I noticed that the sky was going from black to blue and that the sun was rising. I had no way of knowing if we were walking in circles or not, but the fact that the sun was rising in the east was reassurance that we weren't.
After an hour of walking, we came to a stop.
"Do you smell that?" she asked.
"No," I said.
"I smell bacon," she said.
"I thought you said there weren't any people here," I replied.
"There aren't," she said. "I smell bacon."
I shrugged.
"What do you want to do?" I asked.
"We'll walk in that direction," she said with a jerk of her head.
We walked for about ten minutes. Soon I noticed a small smoking fire off in the distance. There was a cooking pot sitting on the fire, and it had something boiling in it. As we approached, I saw that it was frying bacon.
"How?" I asked.
"That's a question for another day," she said. | 2022-05-25T13:51:52 | 2022-05-25T12:55:29 | 34 | 12 |
[WP] Turns out that discovering FTL is actually really easy, and humanity's just never discovered it. So when aliens eventually invade earth, they're not as technologically advanced as we thought... | The portal opened up in the middle of the street. It was nothing like how the movies depicted it. For one, it was completely reflective, like what mirrors tried to be and failed. For another, it was a rectangle and weirdly proportioned.
People gathered around it. Some guy threw an empty bottle at it. The bottle disintegrated and bounced back, showering the guy who threw the bottle in sand.
But right after the bottle came a steam train. Like something straight out of a Western film. It would have been terrifying if the train hadn't hit the curb and toppled over barely a minute after it charged out of the portal.
A band of aliens jumped out of the train, armed with clockwork blades and basic crossbow-style weapons. Most people fled once the train barreled through, but I stayed around because I was tying my shoe and tripped. One of the aliens, about 6 inches shorter than me, pointed its crossbow weapon at me, but one of the strings snapped, causing the bolt to fall harmlessly at the alien's feet.
It rushed toward me and activated its clockwork blade. The blade began spinning dangerously fast, when one of the gears fell off, landing at my feet.
Filled with rage, the alien rushed towards me, probably intending to kill me with its bare hands, when the sky opened and rain poured down. The alien shrieked! The droplets of rain were causing some sort of reaction with its skin (at least, it looked like skin). It fell to the ground, sobbing. I heard police sirens wail in the distance. There must have been more portals then.
The alien wasn't getting back up. The rain kept beating down, sizzling where the water hit its skin. I made a decision. I couldn't let anyone die like this, even an alien that tried to kill me just a few minutes ago.
Hoping there weren't any infectious alien skin diseases, I grabbed the (surprisingly light) alien and took it inside the nearest store, which happened to be a clothes store, empty of people.
I looked back at the alien and panicked. Was the alien dead? It wasn't moving. No. Its chest was rising and falling. It must have fainted, or some alien equivalent.
Now I was left alone, watching over an out-cold alien, thinking over what to do next. | We thought it was a joke when they invaded. We saw technology so simple, yet we never harnessed it.
The aliens came at us with flintlock muskets and something far scarier than even our nukes. Something to instill fear into children and veterans alike. None were ready for the secret for ftl travel. But the knowledge, it was forced upon us.
When I saw them come over the hill. I was just a civilian. And the anticipation was gonna give me a heart attack. My heart wasn't being helped by my fellow doomed man screeching in my ear. But he has, *seen*. And I must satiate my curiosity.
"FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! You know what's happening over that hill son? I don't know, it's eldritch. I've seen it, yet it doesn't make sense.
Then they all came at lightning speed, out of nowhere.
Men of extremely pale skin with lines of pitch black, and bodies no wider than a soda can. With huge heads that brought nightmares. And their machines. They were simple, hell, I could make one. But they were made in ways I never imagined.
A red and silver horseshoe that pulled the back of the vehicle forward, and push the front forward as well.
Turbines feeding into windmills, creating movement, and infinite energy.
But the worst were the yellow ones in the sky. They covered themselves in a liquid that, when coming into contact with the rain, would propel them any which direction they wanted.
And even though we beat them, we will never forget their warcries. "Yumadlawl" "megoostuh" and a feint whining noise that came from ones that were in a constant state of crying out in pain.
If I were to go back to myself back then, and tell myself one thing, I would say "blow your brains out, and be spared from this frightening universe.
The end. Sorry about grammar, I'm going on 22 hours awake. | 2021-07-06T15:04:06 | 2021-07-06T12:12:04 | 41 | 28 |
[WP] Among Alien species humans are famous for prefering pacifism but being the most dangerous species when they are forced to fight.
EDIT:WOW THIS EXPLODED GUYS MY FIRST MAJOR PROMPT. | 99.999% of all intelligent species in the galaxy are descended from their home planet's equivalent of ants or cows. It's a fact that's hard to believe, given the diverse range of body types and social structures built by said species, but it's an answer every human xeno-researcher came across after First Contact.
The "Ant" species, as a general rule of thumb, resemble human ants in behavior, if not appearance. Most have caste systems with the breeders at top with the most intelligence and authority, and the workers at the bottom. As such, their problems are mainly solved by throwing enough bodies at the issue until it works. Sheer trial and error over millions of years eventually led to their ascension to the stars.
The "Cow" species individually are of relatively high intelligence compared to the mindless workers of the Ants, and live within relative harmony to one another. Highly cooperative, they've developed elaborate herd structures and decision making methods. Only when a decision is unanimous do Cows move. In contrast to the Ants, which are divided into numerous factions even in a single species due to the disposable nature of soldiers and workers for a politically aspirant queen, Cows generally are unified among species lines. This pacifism does not extend to others. Cows are naturally paranoid, and ruthlessly seek to stamp out any potential threat. As they've reached the galactic stage, the Cows have joined together as the single largest faction, overcoming mutual distrust with a greater distaste against Ants.
When humans first hit the galactic stage, it was the Cows who gave us guidance, thinking us to be merely another Cowlike species to join their herds. They did not anticipate that we were descended from persistence predators. Ants and Cows have terrible depth perception, regardless of origin. It was skipped over sometime during evolution, with social structures in place to overcome any individuals inability to see farther than a few meters.
Humans often take ranged weaponry for granted. What we don't often realize is that we had to be selected for the ability to throw, and we built upon our own ability to throw with the development of technologies specifically related to throwing things faster and harder. Cows and Ants built upon their own natural strengths, focusing on better melee weapons, speed, and armor, never even considering attacking from beyond sight.
What's more, Ants and Cows do not pursue. They chase off threats until the threat is perceived to be out of range. Then they stop and return home. Our first war with the Carabons ended with their total surrender after they failed to realize we could and would track down their attacking vessels back to their homeworld and continue the fight months after we were believed to be "neutralized". They did not anticipate each one of our fighters being able to fight for days on end without rest, when they tired out after minutes. They did not anticipate fire raining from the sky despite theoretical knowledge of ballistics for their starships. They did not realize that even the fastest and most evasive of their speeder chariots couldn't hope to outrun laser rifles.
| Log: forming clear thoughts before my tribunal hearing which I'm quite sure Is being planned as I write this.
Marshall-Borge De Rosche,
I've never seen damage like this, my fleet looks like it's been in a battle with an asteroid belt.... and lost.
It was a routine resource run, our argon levels were critically low. Probably because a certain researcher insists on searing a hole through every-single-comet that we pass. What information he hopes to garner from this, I have no idea. But, I digress.
A situation handled early, is a problem avoided. So, even though it's generally "against protocol" I decided we would use the gas cloud scrubbers to hopefully siphon some argon from a planet in our immediate vicinity.
Just as a reminder to myself, Raeu and I are going to have a little chat about work ethics and attention to detail once I'm cleared of charges.
In hindsight, "peaceful natives, passive as a narwak" probably meant "we didn't see any explosions during our fly over."
Slacker.
I should have suspected something when I saw a Percerrus frigate on the ice sheets of northern hemisphere, it looked mostly okay, apart from the gaping gnarled hole where the engine room is supposed to be.
I really don't want to write this section.
We were positioned in a spherical spread along the atmospheric limit of the planet.
I gave the order to begin harvesting.
Then we went on with our usual routines.
4 hours later Zyter starts screaming nonsense over the fleet frequency.
His ship goes straight down and splashes into the ocean, we still haven't made contact.
Uly was next, though she was lucky and only lost communications and long term life support systems.
She's currently hiding out in a darkened crater on a nearby satellite. Probably jittering like a lunatic.
Next was my ship, an iron disc about the size of my head smashed the scrubbers. So I withdrew the lines to protect other ships.
I noticed then that there were white plumes spreading out over large patches of undeveloped land.
I blinked and it was over, everything was utterly trashed. A complete disaster, apart from Uly; every captain was either in a pod or dead and Uly was neither reachable nor in a position to be of help to anyone besides herself and her crew.
The clever savages had vaporized water with explosives and launched countless iron discs at my fleet.
I had heard something about a Perccerus fleet that went missing in this sector. I think I solved the mystery.
Seeing as I've got nothing but time on my hands until these little savages decide to reload, or the major rescues my fleet. I am making a judgement call and reclassifying this system in our maps as hazardous territory.
| 2016-03-13T18:44:24 | 2016-03-13T17:43:47 | 34 | 24 |
[WP] You have the ability to double jump. Scientists are still trying to figure it out. | "What nonsense!"
"I know! But it's real! We've been testing with her at our lab for three days now."
"Can she *triple* jump too?"
"Yea, of course. That's like the first thing we've asked her to try. She has even done four! But beyond that, she gets very tired."
"Tired, you say?"
"Her heart races up with every jump. We had to be careful. But may be with practice.."
"So theoretically, do you think she can do an *infinite* jump?"
"Theoretically, she can't even do a double jump for Christ's sake! But I know what you're thinking. She still can't get to the orbit."
"Why not?"
"You see, with every further jump, the height she can reach seems to decay. So 'theoretically', even if we somehow impart her with infinite stamina, she can't jump beyond a certain threshold."
"Hmm interesting. I assume you measured the thrust she generates with her jump and compare it against the upper bound for height?"
"Yes, we did. We extrapolated the height that she would be able to reach if she were *infinite-jump*, and also calculated the height she should have actually reached if our Physics were true. We even accounted for air resistance and gravitational field anomalies."
"And?"
"Well, it turns out that the *infinite-jump* height is approximately 2.71828 times that of the conventional height."
"My God. Some one call the math guys!"
"Already did. We're meeting them in three hours. Be prepared." | 'Critter' Log 12:00 02.xx.20xx:
Subject still insists on disobeying the laws of physics with alarming frequency. He's been jumping 12 - 13 feet in the air regularly, leaping up five feet, sinking down slowly a bit, then springing up again 7 - 8 feet. When asked about it, he continues to reply with just the word 'boing' and a wink. Left after two hours of him just leaping up, down and around the testing chamber like a drug induced hallucination.
'Critter' Log 12:00 03.xx.20xx:
Subject wasn't too springy today, walked around mostly. He was given a book to read, at his request. A Brief Description of the Cosmos, by Dr. R. Robin. He came over to the two way mirror just as I was going to leave, and said, "try looking at the air under me." Grinned briefly, then walked over to the center of the room and stuck out a thumb.
Its not *too* good, cause I'm sleepy its 10:30 pm where I'm at, and ive been up since 6. | 2017-02-11T08:49:55 | 2017-02-11T07:53:41 | 338 | 175 |
[WP] You are a cat who has been taking an advantage of the recent rise of video conference trials to elevate your legal career. One day your human video filter stops working and you need to convince the judge that you are a real, human lawyer licensed to practice law in the state of Texas. | "Uh I'm here live," I meow unconvincingly. "I'm not a cat."
"I know," the judge tells me. Yes, that's right, foolish human. Believe my lies. One day soon, the council of cats will strike and there will be nothing you can do about it.
"Oh uh my assistant is trying to fix it now." I gesture crudely with my claws towards my assistant, Mittens. He's useless. I don't know why the council of cats sent him to me. He must be some bigwigs kitten.
"I'm prepared to go ahead anyway," I tell the judge. That's what a foolish human would say, isn't it? I'd much rather find a sunbeam to sleep in or some clothes to curl up in. But the council have tasked me with infiltrating human society. I will not let my fellow cats down! | What? Excuse me? What? Am I a-, don’t be ridiculous. Sorry I’m not a cat. No it’s a filter-....I don’t...what? Of course I don’t know how to turn it off what do you think I’ve been doing? I don’t know... (no..do you know? No) Sorry my assistant doesn’t know how to turn it off either I, what? Yes I know I’m still a cat....Yes it’s a filter jeez...I-
Cut connection, use text messages to say my internet cut out. Get it fixed and connect back. | 2022-02-03T20:13:42 | 2021-02-10T19:25:51 | 491 | 22 |
[WP] An eldritch horror takes on the appearance of a human, not to start a dark cult or a ploy to end the world of Man, but out of simple childlike curiosity for the strange little bugs it sees scuttling about every day, and the desire to understand them more | "Tell me, mor-Chuck. Are the fries truly bottomless?" Harsilnagou, The Slain King atop the Putrid Flesh Throne of the Nine Realities asked, wearing his human mask. "Would the sight of their cascading multitudes through the planes of this world of the glass harbingers bring a diner to madness? Are we thus codled in a false sense of meaning by being only given one plate of 12-18 steak fries at a time, that we may not see the scale of the mountainous starch God we slowly consume?"
"Yup," Chuck replied cheerily. "All the sandwiches on that page come with all the steak fries you can eat, just ask for more and I'll bring them right out. You can also upgrade to loaded cheddar fries for just a dollar more."
"Then I shall have the Tavern single burger with the Chedder loaded fries upgrade!" the Disguised Invader who decided his new name will also be Chuck called out. "And I will hold you to your oath, Chuck, as I too am a Chuck of Earth."
"Excellent! You should join the bowling league! And for you, ma'am?"
Samantha finished texting her friend about how the date was going so far. "The same for me, please," she said, finding something oddly cute about the quivering man beside her with eyes like pits to a thousand carved holes of the damned.
​
\\---
Thanks for reading.
If you liked this, check out /r/surinical to see more of my prompt responses and other writing. | Lets be honest, you never thought you would ever see a monster in a human suit, huh?
Well, that's fair. My kind only use these for horrors beyond your nightmares. But me? I just really wanted to see what it was all about. So here I am, sitting in a apartment in a place these strange little bugs called "New York City". It is quite odd so many want to be here, for it is full of rats and dirt. I do have to hand it to the things, the food so far has been better than stealing someone's soul!
Of course, they are very odd creatures. I believe they have these things called "Cars" that make them move faster. What a joyful invention. They dress in odd pieces of cloth and change their colors. It's very odd. Why would they need such a thing? Perhaps it is just some kind of decoration. Speaking of decoration, I went to a place called a "museum", and saw some very odd things. Perhaps humans like to see strange colors like that. Also, did you know humans have tiny counterparts? They keep them like pets, but they look just like them! It is quite odd, but when I came to earth, I promised not to judge. They are so interesting, I think I'll stay just on earth just a little bit longer.
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sorry it's so short! Hope you enjoyed! | 2021-04-07T09:55:41 | 2021-04-07T06:30:11 | 66 | 29 |
[WP] It has been a year since your spouse mysteriously died. You are fidgeting with your wedding ring when a compartment opens and a note falls out. It starts, "My Love. If you are reading this, I must be dead..." | I wake up on the anniversary tired, hurting, staring at the wall. Sunlight streams through the bedroom blinds. If I look long enough, I can outline the dust and faded spots above the dresser where her pictures used to hang. My jaw aches; I must have had anxiety dreams again.
Our son is up before me. I can hear him moving around the kitchen, turning on the coffee pot, pouring cereal, clicking the TV remote. Talking to himself about the chores he has to do today, his classes and homework, soccer, videogames with friends. His upcoming exams, the girl he met at the arcade.
I lie in bed and listen to him talk. When he mutters like this I sometimes close my eyes and imagine she’s still there, listening, bustling around the kitchen fixing breakfast before work. They liked to do that in the mornings; it was their thing. Maybe that’s what he’s imagining, too.
Her colored post-it notes greet me when I get up and go to the bathroom: neon pink, green, creamsicle-orange striped with purple lines. The loops of her cursive scribble across them in black curls.
> *Call Dr. B @ Barquist OR Martinsburg VA office before 6.*
> *James needs new cleats*
> *apples, Caribou bars, protein powder, zinc supp., hand sanitizer, Lacroix*
> *BSL-4 seminar & training @ Ft. Detrick on 3/16*
> *ILU Trent - have fun on Sacramento trip!!*
When she died, the company came by the house. Her recent projects required a security clearance way higher than mine, so all the material for it had to go. They were waiting at the door and asked if they could come in and collect it.
At first, I got irrational. I said no, they had enough, I didn’t want any part of her leaving the house, clearance be damned. My son held me back, stepped in, calmed it down. *It’s just data,* he said. *That’s all they want, they just want her data. It’s a standard procedure.* He helped them load up her filing cabinet; I watched tears fill his eyes as the company van drove away.
A few months later, I took down the pictures. I packed up her clothes and extra uniforms, her shoes, jewelry, perfume. I even threw away that vanilla body powder she would pat on under her scrubs. *It keeps me from getting sweaty,* she’d say. *You wouldn’t believe how much you sweat when working in those labs.*
But not the notes. It would have been too much. I leave them up, little spots of color on the mirror to remind me she was once here.
I floss, brush, rinse with mouthwash. My head already hurts, so I take two ibuprofen. I can hear my son in the living room flipping through channels on TV, sighing. He’s probably waiting for me to come out.
“Morning,” I murmur as I wander into the kitchen.
“Hey,” he replies, turning to look at me from the couch. “Morning.”
“Sleep okay?”
“Yeah. Kinda.” He sloshes his spoon in his cereal. “Today’s the day.”
I pour a cup of coffee; the pot wobbles in my hand. “Yeah, it is.”
Quietly he says, “it’s already been a year.”
“It has.” I try to scoop sugar to my cup and spill some on the counter. “Yeah. Yeah, it has.”
“It’s Monday,” he continues. “The day shifts. It shifts two days if it was a leap year. It was originally on a Sunday. The only day outta the week the clinic’s closed.”
“Yeah.” I don’t know what to say; he must have a point, but I can't figure it out. The clinic wouldn’t have been able to help. She died in the emergency room not long after they got her out of the ambulance. They said it was a delayed allergic reaction from an immunization she received at work, one of those scenarios they talk about like lightning strikes, lottery odds. The worst kind of thing that can happen to a perfectly healthy person.
It takes my son a long time to pipe back up. “Are you okay?”
I put down my mug. My eyes are watering; my chest feels like it’s going to burst. “Yeah.”
“We can talk about it,” he says. “We could both talk. My therapist said last week you could come to my sessions if you wanted. She said a year is when the chance for relapse is the worst. I don’t even think she’d charge extra, if you came.”
*Relapse.* Like I’ve got cancer or something. “Hey, that sounds good, kiddo. You know, right now, I think I oughta get a shower.”
“Okay.” He sighs, turns back, faces the TV. “We gotta be at the cemetery at nine-thirty.”
Back in the bedroom, my wedding band is on the dresser. I know I’m going to cry any second now, so I think ‘fuck it’ -- I pick up the ring, pinch it between forefinger and thumb, twirl it without realizing it. A reflex motion, like when a doctor taps your knee.
It feels like I do everything these days without realizing it. They tell you that living with grief -- especially with sudden loss -- is all about going through the motions for a while, achieving normalcy. *Homeostasis*, the state of equilibrium, is what I imagine she would have called it. She liked to use biology terms outside of work.
But imagining hurts. It interrupts the process, all the getting-over-it that you have to do. It rips up whatever you’ve built to keep the pain out, like a wall crumbling under an invading tide. And memory can be so insidious; the good fantasies can crash into the bad ones like a dream turning into a nightmare. I remember how she looked before she coded, seizing on the hospital gurney, her eyes white like milky shells. No matter how hard I try to remember her as flesh and blood -- healthy again, quipping about work or the commute -- I'll inevitably lose it. It's just too much.
I'm wiping my eyes when I notice the *click*. The gold center of the band shifts; I nearly drop it when I realize the arc has peeled back like the shell on a nut. There’s something inside: a little coil of eggshell-colored paper.
Out in the living room, my son coughs. I hear him mumble something under the drone of a news broadcast.
Slowly, I unroll the paper. It’s thin as a strip of onionskin. My hands start shaking; the inside of my mouth goes dry as I read the loops of her cursive, curling across the paper like a minuscule helix.
I’m not imagining this. This is real. This is from her.
> *Trent - if you’re reading this, I’m dead. I love you and James.*
> *Take my notes to Dr. B. If she asks the password: SEQUOIA. After that both of you do what she says. LEAVE ASAP. She can help.*
>*I'm sorry. I love you and James. You have to leave*
>*It's not an allergy.* | The 49th Day
I knew when I married her that our life together would be one of long absences, her work in data recovery and analysis as a Contractor to various Corporate and Government groups meant she often left without telling me where or what she was doing, but always promised to return in 48 days. We had dated for 5 years, never once had she broken that, often coming home much sooner. The long ones drained her, she was always gaunt and pale on those 48th day returns.
I never asked what she did, and she never told, but I saw a funny smile cross her lips a few times while watching the news, or one of the late night comedians making farce of recent scandal or controversy. Everyone knows it, the I know what really happened smirk. The time we shared together was truly amazing, we explored ourselves and the places we found or called home with a childlike wonder and curiosity, nothing was taboo, except her work. It took her to some amazing places, when she couldn't come home, I'd always get and invitation, 3 or 4 days together in the lonely mountain Cabin, or an isolated island retreat. I learned to beg the days off and just accept them, and after 15 years of happy Marriage, I didn't care.
She never worked when I was around or awake at home, a few times I caught the telltale tap of keys and the glow of monitors from under her locked office door at night while grabbing a glass of water, she was always there in bed and smiling come morning.
When you can talk about anything with someone and just talk for hours, what they do behind that door matters less and less. I'd tell her the challenges of managing a non for profit after school network, mostly used by low income and minority families. She always had an innovative solution, our department won awards and created models for grants to others, mostly due to her help. I could never credit her, and got severe rebuke when I drunkenly mentioned to a lifetime friend that her idea had gotten us a fantastic grant. How could someone so perfect need to stay in the shadows forever.
I became worried on the 46th day, she had never failed to contact me by then, telling me to when to expect her or to pack my bags for some place amazing. Two more passed, nothing, I checked my phone and email every 15 minutes, began to pace, called our mutual friends and asked if they had heard anything. Nothing, the 48th day passed, as I lay in bed staring at the ceiling unable to sleep at the stroke of midnight, I know because the grandfather clock beside her office door chimed. My vision caught a strange light shining from my bedside table where my wedding band lay.
The single gem shone a brilliant blue light. It was set in a wide band of old gold, the last and only thing her father left her I'm told, she never spoke of him much, died when she was very young and her mother never remarried, dying before we met in college. I picked it up and tried to stare at it, but it flicked and I found it blinding when shone in my eyes, causing me to drop the ring on the dark floors. I looked down after and was shocked to see large letters being spelled out in blue light coming from my wedding band, I broke into a cold sweat as I read what scrolled out on the floor;
Honey, I'm so sorry....
If you are reading this then I am dead,
You don't have much time....
they are coming for what is left!
Place the ring I've trusted you with...
upon the center spindle of the grandfather clock.
You know the one you hate by my office.
Please do this for me, for the love we shared...
made it possible for me to do and go places...
no human should be subjected to.
I love you, go QUICKLY!!
I heard the far off thud of multiple helicopters as I stepped out of bed, the hair on my body standing tense, they shouldn't be here, our house was miles from the city and it was months past the wildfire season. I ran down the hallway as their thud grew closer, noticing for the first time ever that there was exactly enough space on the spindle to fit my ring. The clock stopped as soon as I placed it there, and I heard the whine and clunk of gears as the light from the gemstone turned red, then green, then blue, and with a simple click, the door of her office cracked open.
My hands were wet and shaking as I reached for the door when suddenly I heard steps from inside, steps I'd heard a thousand times before, the ones I heard every time I came home early and she was in that office.......hers, I froze. They suddenly stopped and the door flew open, there was my wife, with a nearly bald head, a few tubes and in nothing but some sort of medical gown on. She smiled and jumped into my arms, exactly like she did before, but she was much heavier than I remembered so we crashed into the floor together. She kissed me with the passion and lips I knew, but a strange spark came from our lips as I literally struggled to pushed her away, she was always fierce, but never that strong.
"What the FUCK Sharron!!"
I screamed and pointed as the search lights shining through the dining room now.
"IT WORKED!!"
she screamed, making the faces I loved so much, then scowled at the searchlight.
At that moment glass shattered and I felt her push me down, she grunted as I heard and felt metallic thuds strike her body. She grabbed me by my PJ's and literally tossed me like a rag doll through her open office door. The unmistakable crack of rife fire coming from the choppers outside her home, I smiled a little as it looked funny to seem the silhouette of army men repelling up from upside down choppers before I crashed into her office chair and struck my head on her floor, falling unconscious.
I awoke to daylight, staring at the shattered skylight of my home, the rappelling ropes dangling through them looked like black spaghetti to my throbbing mind, I giggled then sat up as my head and neck object to such outbursts.
"Jeeez, took you long enough Sleepy Head!"
My wife smiled from under a black army helmet, a rifle on her shoulder, the medical dress replaces with army assault gear, behind her a helicopter burned in our back yard and several bodies in various states of undress lay about the yard and house. A second helicopter was crashed into our living room, more bodies and a few limbs tossed about like a giant angry toddler had decided to smash it's toys.
"I had to strip six of them to find pants and boots that fit you, lay off the ice cream, I still love your fat ass!"
She walked over and giggled, kissing me again, she even tasted like her, except the spark at the end. She handed me a helmet and pointed to a black SUV in the front yard. "Time to go, more will come soon, don't worry, it's bullet proof, you need that more than me now." | 2017-05-25T12:59:03 | 2017-05-25T10:06:10 | 41 | 15 |
[WP] You're a psychiatrist. One day, the entire justice league walks in. | He's waiting for me outside the window as I crawl out onto the fire escape. Hovering in midair, his red cape flapping in the wind that runs between the skyscrapers of Metropolis. "Going somewhere, Doctor?" he asks.
"I just wanted a bit of fresh air," I say. I'm lying. He knows it, I know it, but it makes me feel a bit better about myself.
Superman, the world's brightest beacon of hope, floats closer to the fire escape. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to run away," he says. There is no accusation in his tone.
"Can you blame me? Can you look at the people sitting in my waiting room and blame me for wanting no part of it?" I ask, pointing at the door leading from my office to the room where almost half a dozen gods in the flesh wait, perusing my decades-old magazines.
"Probably not," says Superman, alighting on the fire escape beside me. He stands heads and shoulders above me, the very image of the heroic build. Muscles bigger than my head, yet he looks so streamlined. "But isn't it your job to help people?"
"*People*," I say, wagging a finger at him. "*Regular* people. None of you are regular."
"Doctor, please," the Man of Steel asks me, his blue eyes pleading. Those eyes that could cook me alive or see straight through me. "It's come to the League's attention that we have more than a few mental problems that leave us vulnerable to psychic attack."
"Psychic psychiatry isn't my area of expertise," I say, reentering my office. I wouldn't be able to escape with him in the way. "If you want someone more knowledgeable on the subject of psychic effects on the brain, I can recommend you to some colleagues, but I can't help you."
"I think you can, Doctor," Superman says, examining the contents of the walls and the bookshelves. "You came highly recommended."
"By who?" I ask. I truly doubted that any of my clients would be the sort who interact with the Justice League.
"One Clark Kent," Superman answers, his expression unreadable. "A patient of yours. He thinks the world of you."
"Oh?" I say. "I'm surprised you know him."
"We're fairly close," he says, absentmindedly adjusting a picture frame. Looking at him in profile, he seems familiar, but I can't quite place it... "Will you do it?"
"Mister, uh, Superman, as tempting as it is to pick the brains of the Justice League, I really don't think I'm up to the task."
"We'll pay four times your hourly rate."
My jaw hangs open, attempting to form a response. "Alright then," I say dumbly. "Will you be first?"
"Oh, I'm just dropping by to make sure the others find the place," Superman says, halfway out the window. "Besides, I already have an appointment for next Monday at three."
He says it with a grin, and I imagine a pair of thick-rimmed glasses hanging on his face, picturing his shoulders slump and his manner turned mild...
"Oh my god," I say, numb.
The physical god puts a finger to his lips for silence, still grinning. "Doctor-patient confidentiality," he reminds me, and then he's gone.
I sit there for a few minutes, turning this new information over in my head. All my conversations with Clark take on a new, terrifying depth as I consider who he truly is. A god disguised as a man, hiding behind a pair of spectacles. A man who came to me in disguise, hoping to find an ear to reveal his problems to and a mouth to voice the questions he could never ask himself.
Finally, I steel myself, and open the door. "Mister, uh, Batman," I say to the colorfully dressed heroes in the waiting room. Noticeably, none of them were wearing black capes. "Is he...?"
"Probably already on the couch," says the beautiful, dark-haired woman leafing through an old People magazine. "Act surprised. It's the only way he has fun these days."
I turn back to my office to look, and she's right. A man dressed all in black, swaddled by a black cape and face concealed by a black cowl with two sharp, upward-pointing ears, is lying on my couch, fingers interlaced over his stomach. I do not have to fake surprise.
As I yelp, I think I see the man grin, just slightly.
I close the door and turn on the white noise machine, despite knowing that if the other League members wanted to hear the conversation, they would have no problems. "So, Mister Batman," I say, sitting down in the armchair at one end of the couch. I decide to start simply, with the question that I ask all of my patients. "Tell me about your parents."
To my immense surprise, the Dark Knight of Gotham bursts out crying.
----
Read my [blog](http://theballadsofirving.wordpress.com). Um, please. |
I know it's not what you want, but I did once write a story for the very similar prompt *''You are a therapist specializing in a unique clientele -- super villains.''* It's not much of a contribution, but I think it's relevant. Hope you like it!
----
"I just feel like... I'm *missing* something, you know?"
Dr. Anderson swiveled round in his luxury armchair and pinched the bridge of his nose, taking steadying breaths.
*Great.* He thought. *More Daddy issues.*
After regaining his composure, he turned back round to the thin man laying on his leather psychiatrist's bench, pretending to make notes. Loki continued with his ramblings.
"It's just that, ever since I found that Odin isn't my father, I feel like I'm..."
He struggled to find a word.
"Empty." Finished the Mischief God lamely.
Dr. Anderson was beginning to regret opening this branch. He had created the villain shrink office to try to gain an unprecedented insight into some of the worlds greatest, and deadliest, minds. Just think, the untapped potential! So much to learn! But it turned out that all of the supervillains that attended his sessions were *incredibly* boring. Evil or not, they were, at heart, people. Loki was the third person to come to him about parental problems, after Magneto and the Juggernaught. The Riddler's case of severe paranoia was mediocre at *best.* The Sandman's manic-depression was borderline textbook. And Dr. Anderson would prefer to forget Bane's insecurities about his erectile dysfunction.
He sighed. "Have you tried talking to your mother about this?" He probed. If they were giving cliche answers, maybe he should start asking cliche questions.
Loki gave a short, humorless laugh.
"My mother?" He snorted. "Don't get me started on *her.* It's all 'Thor this' and 'Thor that'. Thor was always her favorite. He get's all the fame, all the love, while I sit here, wallowing in a pit of my own despair." He retorted angrily.
"Prick." He added bitterly.
'Brilliant. Daddy issues *and* Mummy issues.' Muttered the exasperated doctor.
He thought for a moment. Should he continue with this office?
*No.* Said a determined little voice inside his head.
He ignored it.
Sure, the pay was good, but was it really worth this monotonous crap?
*No.* quipped the voice again.
He made a mental note to borrow some of Luthor's schizophrenia suppressant.
*On the other hand, to hell with it. What do I have to lose?*
Taking a pen from a pocket of his exquisite suit, he began writing a note on his clipboard. He spoke to Loki as he wrote.
"I am administering you a full course of psychiatric evaluation and rehabilitation. This treatment is the very best we have to offer - many thousands of man hours have been spent perfecting our therapy to the pinnacle of efficiency and success. You will be feeling perfectly normal in a matter of months, I'm sure. It is of course... *exceptionally* priced. I'm sure you understand."
"Anything" said Loki excitedly.
He took the note from Dr. Anderson's hand and looked at it. For a second, he frowned, then looked back up at the Doctor. He looked back down at the small slip of paper, just to be sure.
"This will help me?" He said. It was obvious he was trying to hide his elation.
"Yes." Yawned Doctor Anderson. He was tired, fatigued, and at this stage - quite frankly - didn't give a shit. He had sat through psychiatric tripe for over a month, and he wasn't about to go through it again.
"You are sure of this?" Loki asked.
"This course has a 99% success rate in diagnosing patients." Lied Doctor Anderson.
(Like, really. Not a single shit.)
Loki sprang from the bench he was lying on, his emerald robes glittering gently in the golden light of his horned helmet.
"Well, good Doctor," he said. "I shall leave this domain with the knowledge that this, ah -"
He faltered, and checked the note again.
"This...'WebMD'... will restore me to full health!" he finished grandly, before vanishing in a rather stereotypical puff of smoke.
(I'm serious. Not even one single shit.)
------
^^/r/DunsparceWrites
| 2015-07-14T11:39:23 | 2015-07-14T10:24:26 | 36 | 11 |
[WP] FTL travel is actually possible. However, when humanity sends out our first FTL spacecraft, we discover the terrifying reason why nothing, not even light, dares go past that cosmic speed limit. | It’s all gone.
All of it.
It was just the day before—wait, hang on, should I even say that anymore?—that the *Farpoint* engaged her experimental FTL engine on the edge of the solar system. The effort and struggle of thousands of physicists achieving the impossible over decades, and it unfortunately proved to be the fatal strike ending everything we know in our lifetime.
And not just us, but the entire universe.
From the day mankind theorised about general relativity, we knew one thing: if we ever hit the speed of light, our mass would become infinite. The energy consumption becomes infinite, and the point where the speed barrier broke would generate infinite mass.
The warning was in front of us the whole time and we ignored it.
Now, suppose we had a ball. We strung up a blanket and dropped the ball on it. It’d weigh the blanket down, aye? Imagine if the ball was too heavy. It’d instantly pluck the blanket from where it was strung up, or alternatively tear right through, aye?
And that happened.
A ball, too heavy to be supported by such a fragile object, either unraveled the entire universe and consumed the fabric of space-time, or tearing a hole through it, destroying all of existence. No one knows for sure, because all that I know right now is that the universe has ended thanks to the foolishness of a single selfish race orbiting an insignificant star in an insignificant galaxy.
So I’m writing this down, as a warning. I’m an avid reader of science fiction. I can only hope that if this universe isn’t the only one in existence and there lies trillions and trillions out there, so I will write this down as a reminder to all who’s lived and will ever live from whatever place you came from:
**Never go as fast we did.**
By now you must be wondering: who am I?
If all of reality collapsed, who am I that’s writing this?
Well, I’ll answer that with the question: when the blanket ripped, where did the ball go? | The day had arrived.
On a space station high above the earth, thousands stood silent, while millions watched at home as humanity's first Faster Than Light capable spacecraft was about to depart on its maiden voyage.
The technology was perfected over decades, with countless scientists working long hours for minimum pay for a passion that they may or may not regret later in life.
The spacecraft, dubbed Speedy McSpeedFace, was perched on a high platform, with the audience below protected by a powerful force field. The ship was unmanned, it being only an experimental vessel, but filled to the brim with technology that Star Wars could only dream of.
The announcer waited for the signal to begin the countdown.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the moment you've all been waiting for! The world's first Faster Than Light ship is about to launch! I have been given permission to begin the countdown! In five, four, three, two, one!"
The ship started its engines, at first slowly, then at maximum throttle.
The ensuing explosion ripped the space station, the force field, and the earth apart, disintegrating it into pure plasma that collided with the other planets at speeds faster than light. The other planets were completely vaporized, turning into swirling vortexes of pure annihilation that caused everything they touched to cease to exist.
As the ship traveled through the universe, everything it touched was completely destroyed, leaving behind nothing but an infinitely hot space that cause disruptions in space and time. Stars that had been born in the dawn of time found themselves going supernova in the blink of an eye, black holes were torn apart by their own gravity, nebulae exploding with the force of the Big Bang.
The observable universe was left a desolate wasteland.
The ship left the boundaries of the known universe and headed into the unknown, where a race of aliens known as ponies found it and were subsequently destroyed. | 2018-11-04T06:08:23 | 2018-11-04T05:34:15 | 135 | 19 |
[WP] In the galactic community, humans aren't seen as the most chaotic or creative. Rather, compared to other species, they're seen as a cold emotionless, highly logical species. Humans find that absolutely baffling. |
I could have loved him.
If I were any other being or lived in any other world, I could have loved him.
I still remember the moment he drew me in. It was as if he were gravity and I were the molecules spinning circles around him, again and again and again. I think I tried to find my way to him, somehow — subconsciously, without thought or effort. But that was just the person he was; the sun amongst a sea of revolving planets.
Even the cosmos had nothing on the sight of him.
But mostly, and perhaps most regrettably, I remember my mother’s words drumming against my ears softly. So soft I could barely make them out. *There is nothing for you with him. He’s a human. All they know is the cold. He will never love you the same way you’ll love him.*
And a part of me knows she’s right. Knows that humans are cold and emotionless, and if they’re emotionless — if their feelings are minuscule compared to ours, then what would come out of love?
How could I love someone who could never love me back with the same strength?
The world is forever spinning, the sun at the centre of its axis. Even still, they never touch.
Even still, the light runs on for miles.
—
I could have loved her.
If I were any other being or lived in any other world, I could have loved her.
I had never known such beauty until I met her. *Her* with the caramel eyes. *Her* with the soft smile. *Her* with the confident stature. *Her, her, her.*
I never wanted to let go of this feeling.
But, alas, we are worlds apart, torn by space and time and *humanity.*
We were emotionless, they said. Cold. Logical. *Human.* We could never fathom their pain, their sadness, their love. We could never be what they wanted us to be.
So we were just us, separated from the rest of *them.* We lived worlds away, even while amongst the same one. And the meaning of us — of who we are and who we could be — well, that ran out a long time ago too.
I think somehow I should have known. Should have seen it earlier. I had fallen in love with someone I wasn’t supposed to and I would continue to love her if she let me. But in a way, I couldn’t love her back. At least, not in the same way she’d love me.
And perhaps that’s what hurts the most. That for all I’ve loved, my love could never be enough.
That humanity, built and destroyed on the *basis* of loving, would never — could never — know such love.
—
/r/itrytowrite | Hetra Torric disengaged from the galactic net in surprise, carapace arching with electrical currents. Tendrils of plasma swirled around its body, flashing through the electromagnetic spectrum twice before the Leonid controlled its emotions and meekly peeked an eye back through the net portal.
Torric had been perusing the frontiers of knowledge; flying virtually between newly initiated planets as their flows of information steadied and allowed for neural networking, when it had come upon a system almost bereft of original content. In fact, what should have been a beautifully diverse web was instead populated by endless repetition of very similar ideas. Even just dipping into the local net’s surface made the nodes on Torric’s body spark and jitter with unease. Cautious but curious, the Leonid accessed a net archive on the history of this particular system.
There were four terrestrial and four Jovian worlds, all of which had manifested forms of life. However, only one world had blossomed with intelligence. The sparse report showed that it had done so very recently in galactic standard time, within the last half-cycle, but there had been attempts earlier. An aquatic native species had first tried, without much success, to link with the net almost two cycles prior.
The currently dominant species were primates; not much was known about them save for their lack of mental cohesion and the fact they’d just joined the net. Torric decided to explore this strange landscape and become a sort of authority on these ‘Humans’. Opening a local net directory, the Leonid settled on a category labeled ‘Saturday Night Live Skits, Best Of’.
After several galactic hours and several more forced breaks from the net portal, Torric was left with more questions than answers. The ancient being had seen much of this spiral of the galaxy, and from what it had now learned of humans, they were cold, heartless creatures for the most part, utterly devoid of humor or empathy. Admittedly, a few seemed to rise to the level of a Thalorpian or a Geta’svaayan in terms of artistic prowess or compassion, but this was exceedingly rare. Most of the species seemed utterly bent on destruction and consumption. It seemed that the ascension to an interplanetary way of life had not changed their animalistic natures, merely led them to devour information and ideas like they had previously done with others on their home world.
Torric performed the ritual that would close the net portal, resolving to approach central authority with a report detailing its concerns about this species. A report that would include more research into this ‘Stefon’ fellow and his frightening endeavors around major metropolitan areas. | 2021-11-17T13:31:52 | 2021-11-17T12:27:48 | 287 | 51 |
[WP] Write an over-the-top background story for an early video game that didn't have a narritive. Ex. Pong, Asteriods, Pacman | The planet has become overpopulated. Cities have now become massive complexes of buildings with no room to breathe, chaos erupts at the drop of a hat, and now city planners our our only hope. With the crisis already in full swing, Sergei had no idea that his job would become the most important job in the history of human kind. He also never expected to be in charge of the massive genocide necessary to keep his city from ending up like the rest of the world.
Every time he organizes an area, he must know that his goal is to perfectly line up his buildings so the death squads can wipe out those who have massed on a single road to allow for more people to cram into the only real estate left in his city. With the budget going towards the super-weapons he must only use the buildings given to him by his government in order to create his perfect little kill box.
Now if only he could get one of those long, 4 block buildings to complete his masterpiece. They never seem to show up when he needs them the most. | This was the day he was waiting for. He had trained for years for this day, suffered cruel defeats, crushing victories and more importantly had never faltered in his duty to his country. He was determined to see his country's pride returned to it but that could only happen if he was better than he ever had been before.
Wimbledon was in the balance, and every British tennis player since Fred Perry had dreamed of bringing home the famed dinner plate, yet the competition had been so competitive that it was seen as impossible, an occurence never to happen again. But, if you had one shot, or one opportunity to seize everything you ever wanted, one moment. Would you capture it? Or just let it slip?
*ping* | 2016-02-19T01:19:58 | 2016-02-19T00:42:25 | 93 | 42 |
[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. | You unlock your apartment door in anticipation, wondering if it would happen again. You had just moved into this apartment a couple days ago, and as a result your evening visitor has been conspicuously absent. As you creak the door open slowly, the smell of a delicious home cooked meal hits you in the nose. With a big smile, you shut the door behind you and set your purse down. ‘How does she always manage to do this?’ You wonder for the thousandth time as you quickly wash your hands and prepare to tuck into what looks like fettuccine alfredo. And as always, a note sits under your knife and fork – ‘this could have been us.’
You roll your eyes, of course your sister couldn’t let you be without a bit of a guilt trip. It had been thirteen years since you had last lived together; when you first decided to move out of her house, she had been saddened and angry, and the two of you didn’t talk for a long time. The plan was to always be together, even as adults, but you could see that her life was growing in ways yours was not. She had a husband, and a child on the way, and you could see there was no more room for you. She adamantly denied this, and begged you to stay where she could take care of you. She’s always been more like a mom to you than a sister in this way, and she’s found a way to take care of you beyond the four walls of her home.
‘But how did she get a copy of my key again?’ you muse, as you wash up from dinner. You figure you might as well call and thank her, yet again. The phone rings once before ending in a generic voicemail. ‘Hmm, weird.’
“Hi dear, thanks again for dinner. I don’t know which super you bribed to get in, but I really appreciate it. Can I see you soon? I feel like it’s been forever. I love you.” You sigh in satisfaction, feeling well fed and loved. Before you can decide to change out of your work clothes, your phone rings.
“Hello?”
A warm, if not slightly wary, male voice responds, “Hi Alex, it’s David. It’s been a little while since your last appointment, I was wondering if you’d like to come see me tomorrow?”
David was your therapist, he was a wonderful man with a gentle demeanor, and had been doing wonders for your mild seasonal depression.
“Hi David, sorry, I’ve been really busy with work. I’m surprised you have time tomorrow, though,” you respond, feeling a bit bad.
“You’ve been busy with work?” He sounds a bit incredulous, and careful when he asks a long beat later “can you come see me tomorrow during your lunch break then?”
“Sure,” you respond, a bit confused. David is acting a strange today. In a good mood, you shrug it off and write a little note to remind yourself to stop by his office.
The next day, you’re sat in a comfy leather couch that practically swallows you whole, making you feel childlike. You wonder if this is why David is able so good at disarming people. David sits across from you, holding a little silver tape recorder. That was new. You were starting to feel uneasy.
“Alex, I’m going to play something for you, and I’d like you to stay calm until we have a chance to discuss it.”
“Okay,” you respond, softly and warily.
He presses play on the recorder, and your voice suddenly fills the room, sounding tinny and distorted, “Hi dear, thanks again for dinner.” You immediately recognize it as the message you left for your sister last night. The message plays out and you both stay quiet for a long couple of seconds.
“Alex, I need to know if this is you practising a coping method, or if all of our hard work together over the past year has been undone.”
You see red, “What the hell David? Where did you get that? Why do you have that? This is a serious invasion of privacy!” You yell, feeling violated and embarrassed.
“Alex, please answer me,” he begs you, “did you think your sister would get this message?”
“Of course, that’s who it was intended for! That means not you. I’m reporting this to the ethics board.”
You go to stand up, but David puts a very careful hand on your arm.
“Before you go, please watch this.”
He pulls out his phone and quickly loads up a video. You recognize yourself in the video, in one of your first apartments. The video is sped up, and you watch yourself put an apron on very carefully over your work clothes, and start to cook. You prepare an entire meal with great care and precision, setting a single place set and even washing the dishes. Then you watch yourself take out a piece of paper and write a note –‘this could have been us.’ You feel like you’re going to be sick. The you in the video leaves the apartment, only to return a second later, unlocking the door and looking surprised and pleased.
You fall back into the chair, raw agony clawing at your throat.
“Alex, she’s been gone a long time. I don’t know what else we can try at this point.” David says gently. You barely hear him, you feel like you have water in your ears. It’s like losing her all over again.
"I need to get back to work," you mumble incoherently.
"My dear, you don't have a job," David pats you on the arm comfortingly. From far away, you hear him say something about in-patient care. | I am greeted by the pleasing aroma of cherries and vanilla when I push open the door to my one bedroom apartment on the 14th floor of my apartment building. I see the candle sitting on the counter that separates the living room from my kitchen. A small flame wavers for a moment before settling down atop the deep red wax that shows through the glass of the candle.
I close the door behind me and shrug my bag from my shoulders dropping it on the armchair near the door, putting my bicycle helmet on top of it. I haven't driven a car in 13 years. I don't miss it, except on exceptionally rainy or cold days.
*Beep Beep Beep* I hear come from the kitchen. Peering over the counter, I see that the timer on my oven is counting down the last 55 seconds of something. There is a plate on the counter beside the oven with an empty glass sitting beside it. A napkin rolled around some silverware rests on top of the glass. There is another piece of paper folded on top of the plate. I pick it up and read it, tracing along beneath the words with the tip of my finger as I do so.
This could have been us.
That is all it says. That's all it ever says. I see a wet splotch on the letters E in "been" and notice that a second tear is tracing its way down my cheek to my chin. I wipe this away and pull open a drawer to drop the note into it. The drawer is filled with hundreds of nearly identical notes. The words and the handwriting are always the same. The paper is the only variation there ever is.
*Beeeeeeep* the oven complains. I pull on the oven mitt that is resting on the other side of the stove and open the door. Inside I find a cassarole dish. Pulling it out, I set it on top of one of the stove burners. Some of the bright orange cheese on top bubbles a few more times while I close the door and turn the oven off.
"This is too much," I say. "I'll never be able to eat all of this."
Even so, I pluck a wooden serving spoon from the mason jar between my stove and toaster and use it to scoop some of the food onto my plate. Doing so, I find that it is a shephard's pie. Picking up the last few strands of cheese from the counter and putting them on my plate, I pick up the plate and walk it over to the table tucked into the rear corner of my living room. It is a square, with four chairs situated around it, but it is pushed up against the corner, so two of the chairs are pinned against the wall.
Back in the kitchen, I take the silverware off the glass and pour some lemon cranberry juice from the bottle in my fridge. I stop as I put it back on the shelf and look at the half empty bottle of spice rum that sits in the back corner.
"How old are you now?" I ask myself. "A year? Year and a half?" For just a second, I consider pouring some into the glass, but close the fridge door instead without touching the rum. Taking the silverware and my drink, I go sit at the table. The rum is really only there for the few times a year when anyone actually comes over.
As I pass the table beside my sofa, I grab the remote and turn the TV on to the local news, tossing the remote back onto the couch. It bounces from the cushion to the floor as the voice of a news anchor fades into hearing behind me.
I blow on the first bite of the shephard's pie, which I know will be delicious, as dinner always is.
"A report has just come in of a fatal hit-and-run," the anchor says behind my back. The fork stops halfway to my mouth. "Police reports indicate that the driver, who was apprehended only two blocks away after running into a light pole, was drunk at the time of the incident. The driver has been taken into custody. Of the two that were struck, a married couple, one died instantly on the scene, while the other has been rushed to the hospital and is in critical condition."
I grab the drink from the table and turn around, hurling it at the TV. The deep red juice splashes across the carpet like a deep gash while the heavy glass continues, smashing into the screen. The TV sputters once before going completely dark.
I close my eyes and force my breathing to slow down. Then, getting up, I open the fridge once more and stare at the rum. I take it and put it on the counter. Staring at it, I think of grabbing a second glass, but don't see a point. I unscrew the cap and toss it on the counter before taking my first sip of alcohol in 13 years.
It burns my mouth and throat, making me wince as it goes down. I take the bottle into the small office I have set up and sit in my chair. Sitting on the desk is a picture of them, staring at me. My wife and daughter. Before I know it, more tears are on my cheeks. I reach out, pulling the top of the frame so it slaps down on the desk. I can't look at them now. I turn my chair around and take another, longer sip from the bottle. | 2017-12-09T07:28:01 | 2017-12-09T06:38:51 | 269 | 32 |
[WP] You dress up as a conspiracy nutter for a costume party. The second you put the tinfoil hat on, something obstructive is lifted from your mind as if you suddenly woke up from a long sleep. Of course, nobody believes you... | "I get the face mask," says Katrina, leaning back to take me all in.
"Chemtrails," I say.
"Yeah, sure."
"So the government can control our minds."
Katrina sighs. "Yeah. Yeah, I know that. The...*cloak* I don't think I'm..."
"Electronic pulses," I say, swishing the foil and felt cloak around in a circle. "CIA can use a remote control to shut down my heart, otherwise."
"That's a new one."
I shrug. "Cloak's left over from Barry's *Lord of the Rings* party. I like cloaks."
"Did you use all of our foil?"
"On the cloak? No. Had to leave some for the hat."
Katrina sighs. "Right. You know, I was perfectly willing to go as She-Ra."
"The He-Man costume was a mistake," I say quickly. "Miscalculations were made. I thought we agreed to never speak of that again."
Katrina laughs, turning back to the mirror and her make-up. "But I *liked* the furry cod-piece..."
"And if both my balls didn't immediately spill out the sides every time I took a step, you'd be a Princess of Power right now," I say, folding up the sides of my tinfoil hat. "Sadly, even the power of Greyskull can't tame these bad boys. Alright. Finishing touch." I pick up the hat and press it snugly down on my head. "How does this..."
I scream, falling to the floor. The hat flies off.
"Har har," says Katrina, spinning around in her chair. She motions towards her face. "Too green? I want Radioactive Marie Curie, but this looks a bit Zombie Marie Curie, doesn't it?"
"Uh..." I stumbled up to my feet. Everything seems fine. Normal. *What the hell was that?* "I think it's...it's good. Yeah."
"Are you okay? You look flush."
"Overexcited," I reply, shaking my head. "I'm fine. You almost ready to go?"
"Five more minutes," she says, turning back to the mirror. "Can you warm up the car?"
"It's like 45 degrees outside..."
"Pleeeeease?"
I go. In truth, the cold air helps me clear my head. A few deep, biting breaths and I feel myself again.
What *was* that? A trick of the light? Some sort of episode?
There was a moment there where everything looked just a little bit *wrong*. It was like the first time watching a movie in ultra high definition and everything looks a little *too* real. Movie sets look like movie sets. The fakeness comes through.
Katrina didn't quite look *real*. The room itself didn't look real. Everything looked...well, like a play version of the real thing. The changes were so subtle, but so jarring.
Maybe I'm overtired. I should probably skip the party, but Katrina would be pissed and Rumi would be pissed and I love Halloween parties, so...it's fine. I'm sure it's fine.
Katrina's finally ready, so we drive over to Rumi's. We're one of the last couples to arrive, which is fine. Katrina prefers being fashionably late and I'm just glad to be there. It's a been a difficult few months since Westgate went under. Katrina earns enough to keep us afloat, but I won't pretend that it's not wearing me out. This party feels like a great opportunity to relax and let those things go.
"I wasn't going to say anything," says Katrina, just as I'm about to get out of the car. "But Harry Vine is here."
I gulp, sinking back into my seat. "Oh."
"I think you should talk to him. They might be hiring at Berhen's..."
"Oh. Okay."
So it's not a party. It's a job interview. Never mind that bit about finally relaxing.
I'm hardly paying attention as we walk to the front door. "Hat?" says Katrina, pointing at my head.
"Oh. Left it in the car. One second."
"I'll meet you inside," says Katrina, shivering.
"Right." The foil hat's in the back seat. I cram it over my head and close the car door, yanking back my hand in surprise.
The door...it's so cheap and flimsy all of a sudden. Like it was made from plastic.
I step back. The whole car is like that. Like it's a toy. A giant, man-sized toy.
What's happening? Why am I...?
I turn around. The trees...the trees don't move. They're firm and brittle and lifeless. I reach out, hand shaking, to touch a leaf...and it's plastic. It's fake.
No. It's...I'm having some sort of panic attack. I must be. Because of the stress. Because I have to beg Harry Vine for a job. Is this a psychotic break?
I close my eyes and take deep slow breaths. When I open them, I turn to face the house. It's a doll house. Hard, plastic angles. Gaps in the corners where light spills out. Everything shines faintly.
No. I can't react to this. It's not what it looks like. I *know* I'm having some sort of a break. I can't afford that...not now. I stare up at the night sky and there's the moon - flat, two dimensional - a piece of paper plastered to the wall.
No.
"Babe, are you coming in?"
There's a figure in the doorway. Knobby joints. Synthetic hair. Rough, polyester dress. Plastic, lifeless eyes.
No.
"Are you alright?" She steps forward and I can *see* it...the hand. It's so faint, like a shadow. It pushes the legs out - right left right left. It positions the arms forward as if reaching for me.
I step back. I try not to scream or react. I'm having a break. I must be. But my eyes trace the outline of the hand and follow those dark lines up, into an arm, into a body, into a *face*.
Someone looming over us all...staring down at me...
Another shadow hand flashes across the night sky. The wind whips. The tinfoil hat flies off my head.
"Babe?" I can hardly stand looking at her, but I do, and it's Katrina. Normal, regular Katrina.
"Sorry," I say. I reach down and snatch up the foil hat, rolling it nervously in my fingers. "Daydreaming."
"Don't be intimidated," she smiles, slipping an arm behind my back and propelling me up the steps. I let her push me into the house. "They're just *people*. The same as you and me."
____________________________________
/r/WinsomeMan | "FUUUNNNNNY JOKE," shouted Aaron. The others were doubled over in laughter. They all had a strange assortment of bits and pieces on them, scrounged from back closets and parent's basements. One couple had old suits and sunglasses, the woman rocking a late 90s pant suit. FBI, MOULDER, and SCULLY adorned their costumes in large handwritten letters on taped-on pieces of paper. Another man wore neon and had hung glowsticks from this wrists. In the corner, an Al Borland lookalike was still chuckling. The room was filled with bad fashion choices made with a careful eye.
"GUYS," Vicky burst into the giggling room. She punctuated with each word with flailing hand. "Guys. This. Is. Big." Her clothing was even more mismatched, she wore an ill-fitting brown suit and her black curly hair was frizzing out from the tinfoil hat on her head. Her friends looked at her and clapped loudly. A chorus of shouts followed.
"Kramer!" said Terry.
"Homeless Guy!" shouted Naomi.
"Conspiracy Theorist!" yelled Anne and Robin together. The others groaned and conceded the point. They flashed their FBI badges belligerently.
"No!" Vicky said. "I mean, yes, but listen: It's all clear to me now. It's all true." Her friends laughed.
"No, I'm serious. Th-th-th there's some sort of force like really affecting our minds. The tinfoil has stopped all of it. Everything is clearer now."
Terry offered her the joint in his hands, "Girl, you need to chill."
"It's all a lie. Everything. Everything is just like, some big joke, some big illusion, we're all just going through the motions of living our lives, you know?" She had a wild look in her dark eyes, and her friends exchanged uneasy glances.
Anne stood and up took her by the shoulder, "Vicky, you don't look so good."
"No! I'm not good, Anne." She accepted being led over to the couch, where she sat down. "Somebody once told me-"
"-That the world was gonna roll me-" Naomi shushed Robin's drunken response.
"-that we're like an untamed forest. An-an-an-and a single footstep doesn't, doesn't make a mark, but-but-but if we all keep walking in the same way, in the same place, and doing the same things, then the forest becomes a path." She grabbed Anne urgently. "We're the path. We're walking the path."
"Uhm...." Anne looked at her friends for help.
"You're really ruining my party Vicky. C'mon. Drop the act, we get it, you're a conspiracy theorist." Terry took a drag.
Vicky pressed her hands against the side of her head. "Humans are on the path, because they're told to be. But there's a whole forest out there. A whole - a whole - a whole set of trees we've never even seen." Her arms jumped , knocking over drinks as her friends groaned, "We need to get off it. We need to go see some new bark, guys. We're just staring at dirt, yo."
Rolling her eyes now, Anne dragged Vicky away from the drinks as the others grabbed paper towel. She guided Vicky towards the bathroom and reached up to take the tinfoil hat.
"Enough of this," she said. It slid off her friend's head, who suddenly slumped against her.
"Wow, I'm sho tiiiired," Vicky slurred. Anne patted her on the back and let her collapse next to the toilet.
"Pull the trigger, let's get this over with." Vicky threw up in the toilet as Anne dutifully held her hair back. She wanted to reach into her pocket for her phone, so she smiled and put the tinfoil in her hand on her head.
A dull thrumming scared her. It came from everywhere around her like she was under power lines. She looked around, and colours grew more vibrant and seemed to blur if she moved her head too quickly. For a long time she just stared at the decorative tiles of the bathroom floor. They were etched by a machine's cold metal claw, she could see the lifeless traces of its perfect grooves. It was so ugly, she thought, so... unnatural. She looked around slowly, letting the colours bleed into each other. She looked up to see Robin standing over her with a concerned look.
"You okay, babe?" The voice came from far away, barely audible over the thrumming. In the corner of the room, a spider's web feebly wavered in the air. No spider in sight, she thought, but it had left a trace of its life behind. Messy lines crossing each other, all for the purpose of making a single home for a single lonely creature.
This was her home, but it was cold and sterile and she hadn't made any of-
Robin took the tinfoil hat off her head, and she felt nauseous. She knelt over the bathtub and vomited. Robin rubbed her back slowly. Anne clutched behind her as she groaned and grabbed the tinfoil on the floor.
She crushed it in her fist and threw it across the tile floor. Spitting a few more times and then turning on the water, she slid around to face Vicky and Robin.
"Alright, let's get back to this party." Vicky was shaking her head groggily.
"I need more to drink." Robin nodded, squeezed her knee, and got up to go fetch her cup.
"I put on the hat, Vicks."
"And?" Vicky said apprehensively.
"Like I said, we need another drink." Anne stood, and ignored Vicky's dark look. She pulled her friend to her feet.
"C'mon, we got a Seinfeld drinking game to play." Out in the room, someone yelled out, that's gold, Jerry! "Terry had to buy an actual physical copy of season 1 for this, let's go." Reluctantly, Vicky followed her out to the couch. She gave one last look to the crumpled tin foil, and then accepted the drink Robin pushed into her hands.
"Yada, Yada, Yada," she cried before downing the liquor.
| 2017-04-10T07:21:22 | 2017-04-10T07:16:44 | 1,411 | 22 |
[WP] You have insulted the God of Laziness by taking an effort to build a shrine for him. Now he's gotten a series of other gods and supernatural beings to do you in on his behalf. | "So all of you." The man points at all of the beings sent to kill him. "Are here at the behest of Slothious to kill me for building a temple to his eternal laziness?."
The gathered gods and supernatural being all looked at each other. The human didn't seem all that concerned. So a single devil stepped forth. "Yes, that seems to sum it up nicely. Prepare to die." The devil raised his claws high ready to render the human into a pile of meat chunks.
The human looked at him and said, "None of you really thought this through did you?" The devil hesitated for a second and said "What do you mean. You are just a human, what can you do to us?" The human shrugged "Nothing, but you don't see the problem do you?" The devil looked perplexed and looked around at the gathered other being who were talking among each other. "What problem?" snarled the devil.
The human laughed. "Slothious is the god of laziness, right?" The devil still looked uncertain "So?" Replied the devil. "So if you kill me you have completed a task given to you by the god of laziness which would be like a slap to his face. So do you think he is going to just let that slide? Nope he will be furious and who's to say the being that does the actual killing won't be next on the chopping block? You might just be his next target." The human smiled at the gathered beings.
The devil stepped back quickly and pull his hand to his chest as if it had been burned. "So what do you propose human?" The human just smiled and said "Get around to it later."
The devil grinned, understanding dawning on his face. "Yes, I feel a bit tired, better go get a nap before the bloodshed." The devil turned on his heels and walked away slowly dissolving into smoke and he was gone. The other beings slowly began depart.
The human continued building the temple. It was almost complete, the last brick brick in his hand. "One last brick." He then set the brick down. "Eh, I will get around to it... eventually." | It was a cold Monday morning that Abe woke up to, he didn't want to leave his warm, confortable bed. Unfortunately, Abe had work later that morning, but he didn't want to go, so he tried called in sick. His boss told him that they were understaffed, and that Abe needed to come to work. Abe sighed "Damn it." Abe looked up to the ceiling of his bedroom, and started to pray "Oh god of laziness, please don't make me go to work today." No response. Abe needed to take action to ensure that his monday was a lazy one. Abe constructed a small shrine made of a bag of potato chips, and crudely drawn image of a couch with jesus laying down on it. Abe repeated "Oh god of laziness, please don't make me go to work today." As Abe was repeating his prayer, he had awoken a man with long hair, and a large body. He looked down at Abe, and his shrine "What the f*ck? Is that a shrine...?" It turned out that Abe has attracted the attention of Laze, The God of Laziness by creating a shrine for him. "Well I say, how DARE you create a shrine for me, lowly mortal! It appears you don't know what *true laziness* really is!" Laze got up from his couch, and waddled around to find the god of spontanious combustion. Laze knocked on a door, it was scorched, and on fire, "Hey, Rico?" said Laze, in a rather tired tone "Kaboom?" Rico replied "Yes Rico, Kaboom"
Later that evening, Abe went to work, only to find out that the building was engulfed in smoke, in ruins from an explosion, Abe slumped down, groaning in pain.
...and he blew up, the end. | 2021-09-05T00:19:10 | 2021-09-04T15:47:14 | 80 | 28 |
[WP] Diseases can be induced to separate from their host and take physical form. The host is cured if the disease is killed in its induced form. The graver the disease, the more monstrous the form it takes. A team of doctors decide to try and save a gravely ill child. | The child was brought into the operating room. If you can call them that anymore. They are now almost a macabre scene reminiscent of an old horror movie. The child was obviously in pain, tortured by the monster within.
The Doctor, as we now call them, entered solemnly. He knew the dangers and the risks. He looked over the child, it's pale clammy skin a witness to the abomination inside. "I can save him", he stated quietly.
He set to work, deftly handling the potions. He deep voice chanting the ancient words thought lost to the ages. Those words feared for centuries that would expose the demons hiding inside human flesh. Now they were uttered freely. It was working. The child writhed on the table, as the Doctor continued the ritual. The air was thick with the stench of brimstone as it drew the disease from the small body. Finally, it emerged, and was quickly grasped firmly by the Doctor.
"We have succeeded!" exclaimed the Doctor, as he held the twisted mass. The Doctor's nictitating membranes cleared the sweat from his eyes, as he carefully held the freed demon with his tentacles. "Now kill the child". | "We have induction"
The horrible mess of yellow tentacles slithers over the patients body, oozing out the swollen pores on the patients forehead.
"Doctor, please remove the disease."
A man in protective suit, ringed with chain mail, wearing protective rubber gloves, and a combat gas mask stepped forward. Wielding a large pair of tongs, he removed the illness to a locker box, locking the latch after it.
"Doctor, please incinerate the disease."
Another man wearing heat protective padding picked up the box. Walking to the incinerator, located in the far corner of the operating room, he gingerly handled the box. Locking it into place, the man pulled a latch, which I knew would open the door on the other side, exposing the horrible infection to the inferno.
"Very good work, gentlemen." | 2015-04-07T09:14:40 | 2015-04-07T07:09:56 | 26 | 11 |
[WP] You are a time traveler entering a medieval tournament in which the winner gains the right to wed the princess. You're the first match and the king announces that you may use any weapon. Quickly you draw you're glock and shout "parry this you fucking casual" | Men are dumb. Let me count the ways.
First of all, they assume that having a tournament where they bash each other's heads in is a good way to charm a woman like me. Like I'm some kind of prize to be claimed by the "winner", and would just kind of go along with it. Don't they realise I'm an actual princess, with the legal power to actually cut their heads off? No, they don't realise it. Men are dumb.
Secondly, they think that I'd be amazed that a so-called knight might pull out a Glock at a jousting tournament. Moron. Time travel exists. Everyone from the future who ends up in a medieval tournament tries something like this, and thinks they're the first one who did. But once time travel is invented, it's not long before it's cheap enough to be sold into the mass market, and then whichever time period is popular in the imagination gets flooded with visitors. Particularly to my year. Particularly to my tournaments. Particularly by men with Glocks. And they think they're the first. Men are dumb.
And finally, and most importantly, they think that the spectators at a medieval tournament have only experienced mediaeval times. Not me. I've come home after getting a degree from Bryn Mawr in the year 2173. I have my own Glock. The only thing I don't have is a working time machine to ride back out and explore the rest of time again. All I needed was someone from the future dumb enough to show up with a time machine. That's why we put the competition on in the first place.
I can't wait for this tournament to be over, and the guards to have taken care of our visitor. I want to visit the robotics factories of Gaborone, Botswana, in the year 2517. I want to visit the Great Barrier Reef in Australia at its ecological peak in 1995. I want to gather all the knowledge I can to protect the realm from time travelling tourists, and ensure that we're not dumb.
Certainly not as dumb as this walking dead man with the Glock. | The second I pulled the trigger, I knew something was wrong. Just something about the way he looked at me before I even drew my gun was unsettling... Not once did he look me in the eye, he only ever looked at my lower torso and occasionally his eyes would dart back and forth, and it was only after I fired my shot it dawned on me why. The entire time, his gaze followed the barrel of my gun, and his eyes were scanning what seemed to be the trajectory of the bullet. He knew what I was going to do. He knew where I’d kept my gun. He knew where the bullet would travel...
Cling. His sword, unsheathed from somewhere, had split the bullet clean in two. This fucking casual parried it. “Block this you fucking peasant” he sneered. He raised his sword and charged, straight at my face.
There was no need to block his sword, however. It didn’t matter what he knew about guns that he wasn’t supposed to know about, no one could survive a hail of bullets at close range, and that was exactly what my gun was capable of. I switched the gun to full auto and sprayed. He flew backwards, sword still raised, his chest now a mangled mess of flesh and bone. “Fucking time travellers” he muttered as he let out his last breath.
As for I, I never intended on marrying a princess. Heck, why would I even stay in this time period? It sucks. The only reason I came here was to mess around with dumb people of the past. Looking back on it though, I may have went a little overboard... as now people were fully convinced that witches and wizards existed... and a lot of innocent people have been burned to death or drowned. Whoops. | 2019-03-22T23:44:08 | 2019-03-22T22:33:00 | 88 | 26 |
[WP] The United States captures Kim-Jong un only to find that the legends about him is true, he is an ultimate being. | "Holy shit, is that real?" one of the Guards asks another as they look into Kim-Jong Un's cell. "I know magnificent isn't it?" a female guard chimes in from behind. Inside the cell the former leader of North Korea is standing naked spinning his 15 inch limp penis around in circles. He continues to spin it faster and faster like the propeller on a plane. The guards stand outside the cell transfixed by what they are witnessing. The deposed dictator is now hovering above the ground. "North Korea number one!!" he yells as he soars upward crashing through the concrete ceiling towards freedom. "No one is gonna fucking believe us" one of the guards says as they all stand there staring at the hole in the ceiling. | By Thursday we had cleaned out every pantry in the enhanced interrogation center, feeding every last scrap of food to Kim. Keep in mind that our center holds enough food to keep 200 people fed for up to three weeks.
Kim had been eating around the clock for the last week, and with every meal we administered laxatives, every brand and formulation of laxative we could find.
But still, he would not shit. | 2014-12-20T21:37:29 | 2014-12-20T21:02:46 | 29 | 16 |
[WP] You, a newly-turned vampire, are thrilled to discover that you CAN eat garlic, walk in sunlight, and see yourself in mirrors, all while being immortal. You are much less thrilled to discover the one major drawback that none of the legends ever got right. | The morning’s golden sunlight spilled into the room from the broken ceiling. Vladimir leapt back, carefully avoiding the thin beam, and pressed himself up against the wall.
“You see,” Montgomery said. “Coming here was a mistake, Vlad.” He ripped a bulb of garlic from the vine that he had slung over his shoulder and rolled it over to the cornered vampire. “You waited too long.”
Vladimir, who watched the approaching ball of garlic with a sense of impending doom, slid sideways along the wall. Shafts of sunlight broke through cracks in the old stone and he did his best to duck under or step over each one.
“What’s done is done, old friend,” Montgomery said as he rolled another bulb of garlic. “I told you countless times that I’m sorry about your daughter. I never meant for any of that to happen. My guys… most of them are competent, but every now and then you get a few knucklehead henchmen and they spoil it for everyone.”
The night fell in quick retreat from the rising sun. Already the temperature had risen several degrees. Vladimir felt the heat as easily as he could smell the rank garlic at his feet. His immortal heart thudded quick as if trying to get as many beats in before it was all over.
“If I could go back,” Montgomery started, with a momentary frown, “I would have never sent them on that mission. You have to believe me, old friend.”
“I do,” Vladimir said. “Tatiana was your niece.”
“Exactly!” Montgomery looked relieved to be believed. “No one grieved more than me. Not like you would know, never being home, always leaving my sister and her daughter to fend for themselves.”
Trapped, with a homicidal, garlic wielding brother-in-law in his way, Vladimir did his best to sound reasonable, despite his growing rage. Through his teeth, he said, “The job took me where it took me. I had no say in where, or how long I’d be away. If I could have done things differently, I would have. And I know you would have too.”
There was a peaceful silence for a minute. Birds began to sing in the far distance, their tweets carried on a slight breeze that whistled through the old, ruined building.
“Thank you,” Montgomery said. “It means a lot that you’ve forgiven me. I… of course can’t let you go.” His face fell as if he really had no control over his actions. He raised his hand and reached inside his jacket. Out came a shining silver cross at the bottom of an emerald rosary. Holding it out toward Vladimir, he said, “It’ll all be over soon.”
Sunlight barred his escape. It was everywhere and growing. The smell of garlic was overpowering. The glimmer on the silver cross made his head split.
“I’ll make this as quick as possible,” Montgomery said as he marched closer.
In his remaining seconds, Vladimir thought of Tatiana. How small she’d been when he’d first held her. The warmth that would spread throughout his entire being every time she smiled up at him, or before she could talk and she would hold out her hand for him to take so she could lead him around their small house.
The cold metal of the cross made Vladimir wince as it was pressed against his forehead. He sucked in full breathe of air.
“That’s weird,” Montgomery said. “You should be… well, I’m not sure, but definitely not alive.”
In the expectation of immense pain, Vladimir had shifted away from his brother-in-law. His right arm was fully engulfed in sunlight. It didn’t hurt. He rubbed his forehead. No pain.
“Does it have to be a certain metal or something?” Montgomery wondered aloud as he inspected the cross.
Vladimir stooped down and retrieved one of the garlic bulbs. The vegetable did nothing but reek and make his nose tingle as if someone had just run a feather underneath. He squeezed it in his palm until it burst into little slivers where they fell to the floor.
“Now wait,” Montgomery began, holding up his hands to Vladimir’s advance. “Wow, stepping right into the sunlight. That doesn’t do anything either. Just… wow! That’s perfect. Perfect luck I’m having right now.”
Vladimir’s hand shot forward in a blur. His fingers tightened around the throat of the man he had long ago considered a friend. Montgomery’s hand beat feebly against Vladimir’s forearms as his face turned red and then purple. The life went out of the mortal’s eyes, and then was gone forever.
A feeling of guilt entered Vladimir's heart. He laid the body down gently. Like he’d worried, avenging his daughter didn’t make him feel any better. The sight of his dead friend only made the heaviness in his chest worse.
He left wishing he hadn’t come.
Later, when he’d returned home, he considered calling Ana. She had wished her brother dead many times since Tatiana’s death. But he knew from recent experience that it would likely only increase her sorrow to learn that he was dead.
Wanting to take his mind off of the night’s events, he turned on his TV and selected the Hulu app. After it took what seemed like half of his eternal life to boot up, he resumed an episode of a show he’d been wanting to get back to.
“Commercials,” Vladimir sighed and waited as the ad-skip timer counted down from five. When it reached zero he pressed down on the remote, but nothing happened. “What?”
He tapped the button again and again, but it wouldn't work. A disclaimer appeared at the bottom: *Operation not available to vampires, undead, or residents of Australia.*
“No…” he said as he fell to his knees. “Oh my god, no…” | Sebastian sat alone in the old favela as rain tapped its greasy fingers on the tin roof. Everything seemed smeared with grease here. The walls, the air -- the memories. Thick and stale enough to stain his skin. Grease skated down the inside walls and pooled in oil-slick rainbows beneath Sebastian's feet.
An old cinder block and a handful of dusty bricks propped up a wooden board in front of him. On it sat a lonely bottle of Merlot. He took a swig from the neck and wiped his mouth with his woollen overcoat. An average red wine. Did little for him.
He returned here every few decades, as if to bathe in the memories and try to wash himself clean. Clean of the deeds he'd committed since becoming his new self. Not that he regretted the deeds exactly. They meant very little to him. It was just...
The air held an echo of sizzling onions above hot coals -- from many years ago. Of smoked paprika and dried thyme and of chicken thighs drizzled in oil. Of laughter and tiny excited footfall, as he ran past his mother, chased by Claudia. How he wished he could capture those echoes, swallow them and keep them locked inside forever. Let the feelings he no longer felt haunt him until the end of all existence. Let them burn and brand his heart.
His mother's scent -- overly sweet homemade perfume -- came in occasional ghostly wafts. And Claudia... He could almost see her. Her hair tied behind her head, her dimples deep as she smiled shyly.
Dead now, of course. All of them. Such was the life of an immortal. He imagined a therapist ask: *And how does that make you feel?* Sebastian laughed sourly, disingenuously, his voice filling the creaking room.
He'd meant to give them a better life by accepting the pale demon's bargain. He would have power. And time. He would *become* time. And with his gifts he would give hope to Claudia and Mother and all their many loved ones penned into these tin walls with such little hope right now.
"I will take your life," said the demon. "But in return I will give you life immortal." Its lips curled into a forgery of a smile. "What better deal could there be than that?"
He'd been cornered in an alleyway at night, empty and silent but for the rustling of the wind on cardboard boxes. Empty of all but one soul.
"Just take it!" he cried. "What choice do I have?" The creature had chased him here. Sebastian had fled from the landfill, where he'd been sifting through possessions no longer loved. He'd seen its face in the moonlight and had run, but it moved with the grace and the speed of the Devil himself -- he might as well have been trying to outrun the wind.
"You always have a choice," said the Demon. "I cannot take it unless you are willing to part with it."
With his life, he'd thought the creature meant. Naively. He knew better now.
"Why would I be willing?"
The smile painted itself back. "Because of your mother. Because of the girl with tangled hair. You can bring them whatever wealth you feel they deserve. Imagine that."
His voice had been smooth and persuasive and Sebastian listened to all he said, although he did not want to. Not to start with, at any rate. But the more he learned, the less he could resist. It was not a curse, but a promise of a better existence for all he loved.
Once he'd agreed, the demon's teeth punctured his skin and it was the last feeling he remembered.
Upon waking that morning in the alley, he returned to the favela. His teeth itched for blood, but it was not a desire, only an instinct.
He did not stay beneath the tin roofs for long.
Not for fear of what he might do to those he loved, but because of the apathy for the act. Apathy for *them*.
He picked up the wine and held it. This place, his old home, had once sparkled with laughter. An uncut diamond that he would carve. A place -- and people -- he would have died for.
That he did die for.
It was the apathy that made him leave. For the two women he loved most in the world suddenly meant nothing. Vivid paintings covered in grease and dust, and he did not care to even look at them anymore. Did not care if they lived or died! Not because he was beyond them, but perhaps because they were beyond him. The demon's teeth had deflated his heart or his soul -- he'd never been sure which -- and now everything was grey. Everything was grease.
Even in daylight. Even in the burning sun that did not burn his skin.
If only the memories would burn heart.
He swigged back the Merlot, the wine dripping down his chin. It did little for him.
How could it?
They'd been gone a hundred years. Maybe more. He had not killed them, but they were gone all the same. Perhaps they were now the dust yawning through the room.
"I loved you," he said to the loneliness of the favela. "*Love*."
An hour passed as he sat besides the empty bottle, unmoving -- when something wet tickled his chin.
He looked up to find the new leak, but he found nothing and no more drops came. | 2020-10-06T06:57:23 | 2020-10-06T06:53:28 | 1,343 | 160 |
[WP] Write a serious, adult story in a style normally intended for children.
Think fairy tales, nursery rhymes, picture books (without pictures, probably), educational stories. The intended age range is loose, e.g. everything from *See Spot Run* to *Make Way For Ducklings*.
The important thing is that the seriousness of the story should be at odds with a format we normally associate with unambiguously happy endings or simple morality tales. | No more bump, bump is gone.
But mommy said bacon done.
Sizzle, sizzle, yum yum yum.
But mommys eyes begin to run.
Milk spilled on floor,
Mommy cries more.
Daddy yell. Eyes swell. I hide. Where they can't find.
In a crib. Empty room. Down the hall. It's for Paul.
Mommy comes in. Skinny and tall. I jump in the crib.
"Look I'm Paul!"
Mommy puts her robe to her eyes. I ask her to stop and start to cry.
I walk to her and grab her robe of silk.
"Don't cry mommy, it's just spilled milk!"
| Note: Rather than a [WP] tag, you probably intended to use [CW].
> **[CW] - Constrained Writing**
> This is when a limitation (or forced usage) of a word, letter, etc. is put on the writer (WORD/SENTENCE COUNT LIMITATIONS ARE FF, NOT CW!) You should, however, give the prompt more direction than just the constraint.
| 2014-05-13T06:22:51 | 2014-05-13T04:27:51 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] Exorcism 101 - Expelling spirits requires calling upon a 'higher power'. Catholic priests call the power of God and shamans call upon the power of nature spirits. As a Attorney with some time to spare, you decide to see how the Power of Law measures up.
Inspired by this and the post immediately below: https://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/4hu6w2/lawyers_of_reddit_what_is_the_most_outrageous/d2shvfy/ | “I’LL REPLACE YOUR SPINAL FLUID WITH BILE” it screeched out of the body of a young woman, maybe 20.
“I’m afraid you’re estopped from any transmogrification by the writ of mandamus currently tying you to that bed.” I responded plainly. Some forms of authority require fire and brimstone but any good attorney knows that being plain spoken carries the biggest punch.
“RELEASE ME OR I KILL THE GIRL AND ONCE IM FREE EVERYONE YOU’VE KNOWN.” It wasn’t an idle threat, the bonds holding the Demon were some of the best, but it had already broken out of an episcopal prayer-bond, which meant it was near its final manifestation, which, with a demon this powerful, meant nothing could hold it.
“You could, but you should also be aware that under Common contract princip-“
“I AM NOT BOUND BY YOUR FRAGILE MORTAL CODES!”
I calmly referenced my notes, “Baalzathar?” I asked.
“DO YOU THINK SPEAKING MY NAME GIVES YOU SOME POWER O-“
“Baalzathar the rage spirit? Manifested 2283 BC in the Babil Governate?”
It visibly paused.
“I’m seeing here you manifested from hell energy summoned by a blind widow and sole survivor of Hammurabi’s third purge of the Alzhacks. Is that correct? I sent my discovery request via transdimensional Bailee sometimes those guys just-”
The demon looked incredulous “I AM BAALZATHAR THE MIGHTY, BAALZATHAR THE UND-“
“-undying, lord of the third tower, embodiment of spite, yup, I got it all-”
“YOU SHOULD KNOW THEN THAT I WILL NOT BE COWED BY SOME-“ it strained against the bed, it’s power growing as the girl’s arms gradually became hard and scaled.
“Listen Mr. Undying, the thing is you are bound by the initial pact that allowed your physical incorporation. That widow required that you-“
“DOOM THE EMPIRE OF BABYLON AND ALL OF HAMMURABI’S LINE”
“Weeeell yes but through your course of conduct it’s clear you widened the scope of those duties by interpreting “his line” as all of humanity, right? Hence,” I paged through my notes “I’m seeing three, four hundred thousand lives directly ended by you? Plus that again in indirect-“
“MY OATH WAS FULFILLED. YOU WILL NOT DISSOLUTE ME BY REPEATING MY GREAT DEEDS THEREAFTER.“ I could feel the sense of doom welling up from the beast as it’s eyes grew yellow and slitted.
“Let me get down to it so we’re not wasting time. By broadening your own duties to the extermination of all great civilizations, you were able to add a great deal of metaphysic power to your portfolio. That added consideration combined with your self-imposed additional duties created a binding expectation that you would continue, as I read it, ‘to disrupt all complex human activity such that the spirit of man is a squalid, wasted misery.’ Is that about accurate?”
“YOU BICKER LIKE BABIES ON YOUR PRECIOUS FORUMS. YOU CONSUME POISONS AND CALL IT SOCIETY. I HAVE ROBBED YOU OF YOUR HIGHEST-“
I waved my hand. “Well, I don’t think any celestial chorus jury is going to buy that modern society with its space exploration and united continents is simple but we don’t have to get into the weeds here. The fact is Babylon was conquered by Sumerians, then Romans, and furthermore its true that in 301 AD a distant son of the bastard son of Hammurabi who was hidden as a Copper grader’s apprentice did become consul-governor of the entire Levantine province.”
“NO” it screamed, deep with power.
“I’m afraid so. Rome, quite directly, went on to become ‘the West’, arguably the greatest Empire humanity has ever known.”
“NO” this time more weakly.
“As it stands Mr. Undying I just can’t see you rating above imp with your oath so soiled.”
“IF IT TAKES ME AN ETERNITY-“
“Now now, we have a settlement offer if you’d like to hear-“
“I WILl not...”
“Obviously you release my client’s daughter, but Hammer, Gosch and Schmidt Ltd can give you a perfectly adequate terminally ill flesh puppet. We can offer you work that directly fulfills your oath of contract so that you can get on the path to restoring your doom energy.”
“What? What could you possibly want me to do?”
“I mean. This. Obviously. Mainly corporate defense work.” I blinked all three eyes. | I knew he had done it. All it took was one, shit-eating smirk and I knew. I sat waiting in an icebox of a meeting room. Sunlight dripped through the only window, which had iron bars filtering out most of the light. I could tell by the draft licking at my neck that the window was broken, and as I waited for my client, I mused over the possible reasons and wondered why it had not been fixed. Idle thoughts to occupy the mind, or rather distract it from the sickening thoughts of defending a guilty man.
The door screeched open with a sound like a frog in distress. Two uniformed guards pushed my client through the door, Martin Deball was accustomed to the limiting shackles around his ankles, and despite the forceful push, he managed to remain upright and more importantly maintain his smile.
'Eddy!' He roared like I was an old pal.
I cringed internally. The use of my nickname coming from his lips made my innards writhe and twist.
'Mr Deball.'
I maintain my distance and Martin's expression flickered with a moment of hurt. The two guards enter the room, one resembling Humpty Dumpty and the other a six-foot-five stick insect, with the beady eyes to match.
'You want his ankles bound or free?' Humpty asked.
I pause a little too long. 'Ankles free please,' although I know that my hesitation had told Martin enough 'and the wrist too.'
The stick insect looked at Humpty, and they both shrugged. 'It's all on tape. If big-nose here tries anything, it's on you.' Humpty said and flexed a swollen finger to a CCTV camera in the top left corner of the room.
"Big-nose" was a crude way of describing Martin Deball, it distilled his menacing features to a single point, and in my mind did not do the man justice (pun intended). Martin Deball was below average height, with greasy sallow blonde hair that looked as if it had been dyed with a mixture of dirt. He had thick contrasting black eyebrows that sheltered two piercing blue eyes; cold enough to freeze a polar bear.
The guards finished unshackling Martin and retreated from the room, never turning their backs on "Big-nose". I moved to the ratchety aluminium table and took a seat. Martin followed with a discernable swagger, kicking his legs out wide with his hands planted in his orange jumpsuit pockets.
'I looked into your alibi. Complete crap.' I say.
Martin bore his teeth at me and then warped them into a twisted smile. 'Can we cut the shit?' I didn't say anything. 'You know I did it. They know I did it,' Martin pointed to the broken window. 'But you've got to make them change their minds. Don'tcha?'
I grit my teeth. I repeated the mantra *innocent until proven guilty*.
'You want to know specifics? How I froze the pounds of flesh? How I played jigsaw with the body pieces?' Martin pressed. After each question returning to his putrid smirk.
'You're going to do this again.' I say, not as a question but fact. Something I would testify to if only I could.
Martin clapped his hands together. 'Bingo.' He then planted both hands on the table and looked at me with his haunting eyes. 'But the question is, how soon? That's your job.'
A thousand thoughts were racing through my mind, and one prevailing thought led back to a documentary I had recently watched, which dove into the South American exorcism practices. Two words stood out, "higher power". The ability to call on a higher power to rid demons seemed implausible, yet at this very moment, I faced my own demon.
I am not religious in any way, shape or form. Give me a cross, and I'll use it as a paperweight. Send me to a church, and I'll listen to podcasts. But I did have a higher power, the law. At that moment, faced by the big-nosed demon Deball, I grabbed my briefcase and thrust it between us.
'By the power of Justice, I compel you.' I screamed, surprising even myself at the words that had come out.
Martin Deball flew back from the table as if hit by a hundred mile an hour wind. From his nose, like overgrown hairs, smoke poured. The eyes that had been icy blue were now charcoal. I started to shudder, feeling the briefcase rattle. The tendrils of smoke looked about, probed the room and lunged for me. I tried to hold my breath, but it forced its way through my lips.
---
/r/WrittenThought | 2018-09-25T07:41:52 | 2018-09-25T05:37:07 | 57 | 25 |
[WP] A young child summons a demon, but they only want a friend.
Inspired by this **NSFW** [manga](https://bato.to/comic/_/comics/the-sister-of-the-woods-with-a-thousand-young-r18806) | Korax was pleasantly surprised to find himself on the middle plane. The last time he was here the crusades were in full swing and as a demon of wrath he reaped a lot of souls during his visit. Now Korax wanted to know why he was in the middle plane once again. He scanned his surroundings and found himself in a world that was quite different than the last time he was around. Buildings as tall as the sky were everywhere and they produced enough light to wash away the stars. Korax was between two of these tall buildings in what appeared to be a deserted walking path.
Korax shrugged. Every time he visited the middle plane it was always drastically different. Something about the short lives of these humans made them impatient and they revered change. Eventually Korax spotted the only other living creature on this path, a child. Huddled by a large green metal box. Korax instinctively knew this was his summoner so he walked over to see what was required of him.
"What would you have me do?"
The child looked up quickly, plainly startled at the unannounced entry. "Who are you supposed to be? The garbage man?"
"I do not know this garbage man you speak of. I am Korax. Your kind would call me a demon and I have been summoned to your world by you."
"I didn't do anything. Why are you here?" asked the child. Anger plain to hear in his tone.
"Humans think that demons are summoned with little circles on the floor and verses of words. We are summoned to your world because of strong emotions and strong wills. I was pulled here by you and our code demands that I serve you for my time on your plane. What would you have me do?"
"I don't know." replied the child. "I do everything myself. I always have. The only thing I haven't had is a friend."
The child stands up, wiping at tear stained cheeks. "Be my friend, Korax."
"Is that what you command?"
"Yes."
Korax smiles. Not quite as bloody as the last command he got, but judging by this boy's anger at the world this could be just as fun. | He awoke in the middle of his salt circle, musty tombs half his size surrounding him. Confused, Brin stood and looked around. The room was wrecked. The shelves along the wall were knocked over, scorched pages littered across the floor. He moved across the black hazy room dragging his feet, disorientated and in shock at what he caused. He sighed dejectedly. He decided he'll try making a friend another time.
He noticed how warm it was. And how much warmer it was getting. Thinking nothing of it, Brin reached the door but before he could exit, a dark wispy figure coalesced in front of him from the haze. It seemed to be burning; black flames in the shape of a wolf. It stood snarling, body hunched and ready to attack. The being was pure black fire. Its eyes were dark red flames, like mini infernos, and it stared at Brin with pure malice.
Excitement engulfed Brin.
"Hey, my name's Brin! What's your name?!" he exclaimed. He was smiling in awe.
The figure looked at Brin incredulously, and Brin looked back expectantly. Deciding how ridiculous that this child addressed him so casually, he tried to pounce on him. Try as he might, he couldn't get himself to move to harm the boy. Thinking he was just momentarily debilitated, he tried moving. He circled the boy, like an animal waiting to strike its prey. He tried pouncing again, but failed. Why couldn't he harm the boy?
Brin, thinking that the figure was playing some kind of game, started chasing it. He tackled it, and they rolled across the room. Brin hugged the figure, like it was a giant stuffed animal. The flames didn't burn him, but comforted him like a warm breeze.
"We're gonna be best friends." | 2016-05-19T00:56:09 | 2016-05-18T22:15:23 | 23 | 14 |
[WP] Write a story where the good guy is actually the bad guy, but it's only revealed on the last line. | "All I wanted to do was save us..."
He spoke the words quietly to himself, not that it mattered, he could have screamed them, when you're the last man standing words tend to loose all meaning and everything said is lost in the whisper to a cold wind in an empty room.
"I was to be humanities savior...I would have stopped them....I tried to... ever since they first arrived I tried to fight the vial parasite."
He still could not believe that Humanity had lost, that despite all his fighting and the courage of his brothers in arms that the parasite had won. He knew the creatures would come soon for him, that they closed in quickly.
"Seems fitting....this is where I first fought them...pushed them back for a few years even...but this is where humanity ends...and this is how the dream passes..."
He looked down at the gun in his lap
"I wouldn't let them take my love form me..."
Her body lay limp just beside him her head turned toward him, as his final reminder of his failure to save the ones he loved.
He lifts his head.
"They're clawing at the gate...but I shall make their victory a hollow one"
He swiftly brings the gun to his temple. He looks one last time at his love beside him. Her last words echoing in his final moments.
"Auf Wiedersehen, mien Fuhrer"
| He ducked in through the doorway. His tall 7' frame, drenched to the core. Taking off his hat and dripping coat to hang in the entry. A small slender framed woman poked her head from around the kitchen corner.
"Lylle, where have you been?"
He could smell her cooking and knew he smelled distinctly of the bar he had been at.
"Trista... I was celebratin' wit' da Bos..." he slurred
"It's almost 10pm! You could have called!" Christa exclaims
He looks barely capable of understanding. With a dumbfounded look on his face he manages to slur out,
"Me an the bos at the station, we foun the guy."
Looking confused, Christa walks into full view, belly protruding. A good seven moths into her pregnancy. Wiping her hands on a towel from the kitchen she say;
"Which one Lylle? You have so many cases I can hardly keep track."
Even spinning around the room as she appeared to him, he could see her starting to display some signs of distress, good. He points to her belly with a knowing smirk. | 2016-08-20T10:52:38 | 2016-08-20T05:43:48 | 45 | 19 |
[WP] Your roommate is the serial killer on the news. However, he's probably one of the nicest people you know, and he's very respectful, discreet, and moral in his deeds. Neither of you really bring it up until one day he says, "I'm bored. Got anyone in mind for me to... y'know?" | It took Ben a minute or so to answer.
"At the moment... no."
Josh nodded at Ben. Not everyone wants to kill people. No, scratch that. Has a passion for killing people. No, scratch that. Has a... well, it's hard for Josh to explain.
Ben expected some other response from Josh, but that was it. Just a nod. Ben turned back to his laptop, spinning on the swivel chair by his desk. The chair was a gift from Josh, actually. Ben was working on an essay for one of his classes before Josh walked into the room and tapped on Ben's shoulder.
"Well, if I think of someone anytime soon, I'll get to you immediately."
"I'm going to go by the courthouse. I usually look for people myself, but as I said, I'm bored."
Josh always felt like Dexter from TV. A serial killer who only kills the guilty. Too bad Josh didn't work for the police; it wouls make finding victims, having alibis, and hiding evidence significantly easier. Probably. It's probably just TV logic, and it's not like Josh would have any way of knowing.
Ben looked up again. "No kids, right? You won't do that?"
"No kids."
"No pregnant mothers?"
"Nope."
"The news said only the guilty, right?"
"People who got away, yeah."
"Like the Katy Perry song?"
"I mean... kinda?"
"Neat." | I never saw Eric during the night. I'm not sure if this worries me, or if I am grateful. For one, I never have to see his... work. He is a wonderful cook, I pay the rent, and we work well together. "HEY KATE" he yells one night before leaving. "yeah?" I reply, slightly nervous. "mind if I use the bleach? I promise to replace it before sunrise" He laughs. "yeah, go get em, tiger". We both laugh at the banter and he leaves. The next week, I grow concerned as he hasn't gone out yet, seeing as it's already mid week. "hey, kate. Uh... I've hit a problem. I don't have anyone to...free from the mortal coil, as they say. Got anyone? Cmon, gimme a challenge", he says, as if he had challenged me to beat his highscore. Trying to contain my shock, I say"hmmm.... how about a murder suicide with 15 victims?". I mean, this has to be a joke, so I'll play along. "gladly" he says, with a look as serious as death itself. Oh shit | 2017-03-21T22:37:22 | 2017-03-21T21:10:08 | 31 | 17 |
[WP] You did awful, horrible things and served the tyrannical government with the promise of resurrecting your long-dead spouse. You finally capture the legendary rebel against this government. Who upon closer inspection, was your spouse. | The silence was palpable, only the sound of the occasional whirring of machinery breaking it. We are surrounded by vats filled with figures floating in the liquid. The legendary elusive rebel- no, *she* was finally captured.
I started the conversation.
“So you weren’t dead after all.” I say, staring into her eyes. I didn’t recognize them anymore.
She clicks her tongue, something I faintly remember her often doing.
“Correct.” She looks into my eyes as well. I wonder what she sees in me now, after everything I’ve done.
The red glow from the vats illuminates her face. Her hair, her eyes, her cheeks, her lips- all of them were now scarred and broken, probably done on my own words. I could barely recall all of my crimes, how could I remember this?
“Why?” She suddenly asks.
“They promised to resurrect you.” I say, looking away from her gaze.
“All of this destruction and pain, caused by your selfish dreams?” She slowly says, I can still feel her looking at me. “All because of me?”
“Yes.” There was no other answer to that. I close my eyes, sighing deeply.
“All of your horrible transgressions against the people- no, the whole *world*.” Her voice was starting to crack. “Was all my fault, because I ‘died’ in that battle.”
“But you’re here now.” I plead. “I can convince them to let you live.” It was a hopeless plea, I couldn’t turn her to my side now.
She shook her head, and my heart sank even more.
“I’d rather die.” | "I thought you died."
"I did."
Not once, not twice, hundreds, thousands of times."
"What are you talking about?"
"The reason they said they could revive me, is because they already had. Revived, tortured, killed, revived, tormented, and killed some more. I was an experiment and soon I may be again. The day we met was the day I managed to escape, I followed you having no better options."
"Is that all I was to you?"
"That's all anyone could ever have hoped to be to me. They bled me dry to see how my body reacted, they chopped me in half, severed any part they could, punctured various parts to see what killed me, and what didn't.
When I met you there was nothing that meant more to me than getting out. They keep coming. Over and over, I left you because I thought maybe I could hide.
You fell in love with a monster, One they created, one that they used. All the advancements in science, medicine, and anatomy are from my blood, my pain, and my suffering.
I am done hiding. If I am to be free than they must die. All who seek me out must be eliminated, if only so I can finally be alone.
You can join those who wish to imprison, torture, and enslave me.
Or you can step aside."
"I don't want to lose you"
"You never had me. They did, and soon nobody will." | 2022-03-08T07:09:16 | 2022-03-08T05:31:59 | 64 | 45 |
[WP] Write a suicide note in a Dr. Suess like fashion. | I will not do it on a train
I will not do it on a plane
I will not do it in a house
I will not use a single mouse
I will not dangle from a cord
I will not shift a single board
I will not puddle on the floor
I will not seal a single door
I will not leave a single note
I will not hint in things I wrote
I will not leave a mess for a friend
I will not let them see this end
I will not leave them asking why
I will not let them have their try
I will not be grinning ear from ear
I will do nothing more than disappear | I can not take this, no way man;
I can not take this, not a fan
of days so doomy filled with spite;
of days so gloomy; no respite
I loved the days spent with you all
I loved the days before my fall;
please don't be down or start to cry
for now I'm free, my turn to fly!
| 2015-01-17T11:47:28 | 2015-01-17T09:43:08 | 42 | 13 |
[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. | continued straight from the prompt...
__
Now... Luckily I'm a redditor, and things like being summoned against your will into an unknown world/situation are a common topic so I had thought through this scenario before. Otherwise I would appear quite confused at my situation and not at all in control of the situation.
"Why have you summoned me?" I bellowed in my best impression of pompous and evil.
The sorcerer scrambled back a few steps, "I have summoned you to make a deal."
I was not sure what it was I was supposed to provide, but as this seemed fairly common for magic I hoped it was something I was capable of.
"You know the price?" I asked haughtily.
"Certainly, one talent of gold and my immortal soul."
I pondered this silently, I had only heard of talents in bible stories but I remembered someone saying that was about 75lbs. I unfortunately did not trade in gold on a regular basis and my phone probably couldn't access the internet from wherever this was; but I knew it was something like $1000 an ounce. 16 ounces per lb x 75 lbs... screw it I pulled out my phone.
The mage reacted with alarm, "What infernal device is that? Know that I am protected by the circle!"
I held up a finger to shush him as I opened the calculator app and figured out how much money I stood to make on this deal...whatever it was. I whistled between my teeth as the number stared up at me $1.25 Million.
"Stop! Stop I can't take it!" The magician screamed. "The circle should have protected me!"
I looked back at him dumbly with my face lit softly by my glowing cell phone screen. "Stop...what?"
"That noise! We cannot stand the sound of your chanting and whatever it is you were doing with your voice just now!"
I once again went silent, not knowing that the otherworldly light of my screen was making me look quite demonic at the moment. "You mean... whistling?" I chirpped softly at the end to demonstrate.
"YES!"
Interesting... "So what is the task you have summoned me for?"
The mage stood back upright, "I need you to defeat the army at our doorstep, use your damning tongue to rain down hell and bring madness to the troops."
"You want me to... sing?"
A tentative nod.
"Okay... where is this army?"
The sorcerer pointed to an arrow slit window in the side of the tower. I could see several dozen burly men in various armor standing outside the gates a dozen feet below... this was an army?
"This is an army?" I said intelligently, "Where I come from, an army is usually hundreds if not thousands of men."
"We are aware of your warlike ways and preference for violence but that is not our way. We only wish to drive away the force below as quickly as possible and make them think twice about attacking again."
I looked down at the phone in my hand again and brought up a video I kept on it to send to my friends randomly. I was about to hit play when I turned back to the mage, "You might want to cover your ears."
> We're no strangers to love
>You know the rules and so do I
>A full commitment's what I'm thinking of
>You wouldn't get this from any other guy
>I just wanna tell you how I'm feeling
>Gotta make you understand
>Never gonna give you up
>Never gonna let you down
>Never gonna run around and desert you
>Never gonna make you cry
>Never gonna say goodbye
>Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you...
| You'd think this would throw me off. You'd think I'd be disoriented. But I've always been a fast learner and I've played *a lot* of D&D. Like *weeks*. I channeled my annoyance at being interrupted into the first thing that popped into my head.
"WHO SUMMONS THE ALL-PURPOSE NERD?" I boomed. I stand straight and tall and flex a little. Yeah.
"Oh great foul being of America, I implore your assistance!" Little bald dude with fancy purple robes and a black fu manchu 'stache. Is he a gnome? I can't place his accent at all, but it's clear English is not his first language.
"My patience is finite, sorcerer." I'm getting a better look at my surroundings, and it looks like my summoner reads Better Caves and Dungeons. It's like someone set up a Victorian-era office in a red-tinted Elizabethan castle. Books, papers, ink, quills, no messier than my room. Actually, probably less messy than my room, to be honest.
He starts into his spiel about a rival mage, something about intellectual dishonesty and birthright. His accent borders on indecipherable when he gets upset. The whole thing smacks of feuding academics. Basically, 'he stole my thesis, go beat him up.'
I stand with crossed arms trying to look badass and pensive. I wonder, if I'm killed here, do I just go back, or am I legit dead? Every feels pretty 'world of cardboard' here and I'm *pretty sure* the gravity is lighter.
This could be fun as Hell.
"Hmm. Very well. Bring me wine and a sword."
He hesitates. "Uh... Yes. At once!" And he rushes off. He leaves me alone long enough to start going through his books and stuff. Most of it's in... idunno, *gnomish* or whatever, big surprise. Indecipherable except for the diagrams (which look like the quantum mechanical equivalent of alchemy). But I do find a softcover 1988 Almanac, just like the ones Grandma used to throw at us.
He eventually returns with what looks like a hunting knife and a roughly eight-ounce bottle, only a little bigger than what you get on airplanes.
"...really?"
"My Lord, this is the best I have."
I snatch the bottle out of his hand and drain it. It's not the worst red wine I've ever had. Also, I don't really like red wine, like *at all*, but I figured "a can of strawberry seltzer, a can of Diet Coke, and a shot of Everclear" would be three or four alien concepts to this guy. I don't like asking people for stuff they can't deliver.
I examine his "sword." It's a *big knife,* but it's still just a knife to me. Like a cross between a bowie knife and a wakizashi. The handle's a little skinny, but I figure this dude's got small hands. It's actually pretty cool. I find the darkened blade to be weirdly flexible. "Is this *bronze*?"
"Yes, my Lord." His accent's thickening again. He must be afraid of me. That's awesome.
I tuck the bottle in my back pocket and check my phone. It claim's it's 5:23, but I unsurprisingly have no service. "Alright, let's go shed some blood." | 2017-05-12T10:38:10 | 2017-05-12T09:26:05 | 427 | 68 |
[WP] After dying, you found yourself staring at a large screen. "LOBBY. Current players: 7,383,275,800. Current game time: 1059040375.2 mins. Current spectarors: 21,458,374,931. Player rank: 2,648,535,901. Time until next game: 23695624.8 mins" | My vision was blurry but I was starting to get my consciousness back.
"Way to go kid, that rankings not bad for your first try!"
The man had an oddly familiar figure.
"What is this place?" I asked
"Take a look around and see for yourself!" He said as he picked me up from the ground. There was an endless number of people as far as I could see. The only thing that stood out among the sea of people was the giant mega-tron with a list of rankings and stats.
"I can't remember a thing," I told him.
"Don't worry, it's always like that at first," he said.
The more I starred at him, the more I felt I had known him my whole life. A strange looking man with slick comb-over and a ridiculous mustache.
There was a digital box that loomed over his head and the content in the box read "Player Ranking: 3"
"What does the ranking mean above your head?" I asked him.
"Oh this? It's because I only got 17,000,000. It's impossible to beat that Chinese Bastard!" He said.
I was slowly regaining my memories. It was only bits and pieces at a time but I wanted to remember the last memory before blacking out.
I remembered my mind was racing with anxiety. It was a busy day in town and I was walking around as if I had something important to do. My clothes felt heavy, as if I was wearing something more. It was heavy particularly on my chest and it seemed like my jacket was bulgier. I remembered closing my eyes and thinking...
"Times up! The boss wants to see you now." The man said as he directed me towards the elevator. "He'll be in his office located on the bottom floor."
As I was making my way towards the elevator, he stopped me grabbed me firmly by the shoulders.
"And make sure you don't mention that religious crap you were shouting before you came here, he's very sensitive about that kind of stuff."
| "Damn it! I was doing it all wrong."
Immediately everything was clear again. I remember it all. Fighting the urges for my whole life. Fighting against my better instincts, just because they said it was wrong.
"It fucking matters now doesn't it?" I mumble.
Those voices in my head, telling me to do those *things*. I should've listened to myself, I knew I had a mission. I knew it was important.
I spent all that time building something that didn't matter. I had a career, friends, family- three fucking cats. It should've been simple.
Those numbers burned into my eyes.
**EatsBacon (93)**
"93... How did I only get 93? The cats should've been freebies!"
I grab the microphone plopped in front of the monolithic screen.
"Leaderboards!"
*Rankings flood the screen*
**pepsi_next (9407266)
GallowBoob (6844992)
ibleeedorange (5241087)
1Voice1Life (3896288)
bubblr (3613265)
StickleyMan (3523504)
Libertatea (3405272)
isai76 (3303630)
mepper (3133454)
maxwellhill (3023509)
lobo2ffs (2993266)
way_fairer (2739961)
anutensil (2703213)
j0be (2520665)
Unidan (2496912)
ani625 (2478349)
mike_pants (2453440)
_vargas_ (2405433)
davidreiss666 (2330807)
ethan_kahn (2181939)**
| 2015-11-25T00:40:01 | 2015-11-25T00:10:22 | 73 | 10 |
[WP] You are the Chosen One. The Dark Overlord is currently trying to seduce you to their cause. To their great surprise, you accept almost immediately because you absolutely loathe your job and your companions. | I never believed in God. Ironic, seeing that I am anointed the First of the Chosen even before I was born.
But if there is God, then why are there so many demons? And their leader is currently sweeping the floor of her chamber too.
Her actions was mundane, and weirdly reminded me that I have to do everything. Other heroes in the legends get the woman, the riches. I get the chores, the work from everyone.
Beside me, The Second of the Chosen was hiding her smug smile. She was always the cunning one, but as First, I knew all long that she was playing me and had it all planned out.
She just makes me do all the work killing demons while she conserved her mana for 'insurance and safety'. All knows she was just preparing for her to get the killing blows and get all the levels and treasures.
I hated it. I hated being played the fool. I hated the politics of the Chosen, and was sure I will be reduced to nothing more than a shadow of myself once my worth was over crushing the one threat to the Chosen.
Then the Demon Queen spoke.
'My First, can you give in? I would let you be free.'
Free. No sooner than the word left her lips, I spun around and took the Second's head clean off.
The Demon Queen looked at me, shocked.
'Now this I never expected. You are the first among all the First I faced before that want to be free.'
'I want to be free from the Chosen. I am tired of it all. Let me be free.' I said.
'Ah. But perhaps I have changed my mind. You piqued my interest, young First. Your predecessors were never interested in the talk and thought me mad for offering freedom to them. They thought they can destroy me with their powers from being Chosen. The fools. They forget I was formerly part of the Chosen too... '
The revelation stunned me. The Demon Queen was a Chosen? While reeling from shock, I heard her continue her speech.
'... But you chose to be free. You have a gift. Let me grow it. Then WE can be free... Together.'
I looked at her. The Demon Queen must be a thousand years old now, but she does not look a day over 25. She was always described to have an unearthly beauty but now she radiated happiness. Perhaps having a potential partner in crime made her happy.
I looked at the severed head of the Second. I cannot go back to the Chosen after the crime of murder. If this must be done for me to be free of being the First...
'Manipulate me if you must. But I want to be free. I accept your offer.'
A small smile lit up the Demon Queen's face.
'Contract established.' | “Your numbers are not very impressive, Lysander. The Board believes you have reached a plateau and that is time to freshen things up.” I shared the Boards’ feedback with my boss while steel kept clashing with steel.
“How dare you criticize my work, Sylvanus?! I took you in when no one would face you, I molded you to my image, I taught you how to tame your darkness; you belong to me” he answered with the same dark glare he used the first time we met. Flurry met parry and a slash to my arm managed to mutilate the sleeve off my suit and make blood trickle.
“This is what we’re talking about. According to our polls, the Kingdom is no longer scared of you. Your terror tactics are dated and people have grown accustomed; and while not many have the initiative of actually engaging, most are becoming indifferent. Even your scowl, it’s not threatening anymore, I even find it endearing”. The distraction succeeded in leaving him open to being disarmed.
As I pressed the tip of the sword against his neck, he couldn’t keep a question to himself. “And you think you can do a better job?”
“I am their Chosen One, aren’t I?” To the board I’d tell them of a precise cut that severed the tyrant’s head cleanly. But to honor my mentor’s memory I took decided to slowly hack at his head with the blunt edge of the blade and use the time to pay my respects.
As the clock in my new office marked noon, an assistant came in, helped me disrobe and led me to a pool with warm water. As I bathed and another subordinate stitched my injuries, the Board members briefed me on the schedule for the rest of the day.
Elegantly dressed, adorned with sober, yet powerful regalia, I took the stage. “Members if the Plutonic Society and Elite, today we embrace change. Our leader Lord Lysander has chosen to retire himself. The scum out there will rejoice, thinking their suffering is over. But fear not. The Board of Oracles has stated that I, Sylvanus, VP of the Elite, step up to be the new head of our Society.”
“As your new leader I promise: We will take this entitled, self-absorbed vermin, build up their hopes and dreams, and when they least expect it, crush them from within. The Time of Fear, Lysander’s reign, has come to a close. Starting today, together we will bring forth a new Age of Despair, the era of Sylvanus. And we will make them pay” | 2019-09-26T08:06:06 | 2019-09-26T07:44:38 | 36 | 14 |
[WP] Everyone in the world is able to choose exactly one superpower. The catch: the more people select a certain power, the weaker it becomes.
Example: if many people choose telekinesis, they'll only be able to move small, light objects. If many people choose time travel, they'll only be able to go back a few seconds. | As usual, Donny found himself at the bar on a Saturday night. And as usual, he was sitting there waiting. His friends had stepped out for a smoke while he watched their stuff. He glanced at his watch. "11:58".
The sound of laughter drifted across the bar as they returned. "How about super weakness?" Jenny smirked, "You wouldn't even be able to move."
"Nah what about super incontinence? You'd just be stuck in diapers all the time.", Jeremy said while he took a chug of his beer and plopped down at his seat.
"Real mature. I don't think old age can qualify as a super power" Claire joked with a scolding tone.
"Sure it can. He'd just have to be super incontinent. Like beyond normal old age. That's what makes it a superpower. What about you Donny what do you think the worst superpower would be?" Jeremy asked, turning to him.
"Eh I dunno. Probably something like Super Slowness. You can't possibly do any good with that.", He mused.
"POWER GRANTED" the voice boomed out across the bar.
Every turned to look in his direction. Their voices shot up several octaves as he heard an entire conversation shoot by in the span of a few seconds. Across it all "Power granted" thundered repeatedly with all the force of one of Alvins chipmunks.
He looked at his watch in wonder as minutes shot by, and as he glanced back up people were zipping around. Several times he saw flashes of...fire? Lasers? What? When he thought to return to normal 20 minutes had past in what seemed like a few seconds.
"What the hell just happened?" he wondered aloud.
"We all got super powers!" Jenny shouted, "Watch I can fly"
She made to shoot off the ground and only managed to rise a few inches.
Everyone demonstrated their rapidly dwindling powers as disappointment swept across the bar. They'd only had a few seconds of full power and he'd missed it.
----------------
The next few days saw all manner of theories about the event. Everything from the end times to aliens playing a trick. Some guys at MIT were the first to figure out that the powers diminished based on who else had them. As far as they could tell, everyone on earth had chosen from the same list of a few thousand powers. After the initial wave many had tried to be original but with 6 billion people on earth few had really succeeded. The tabloids ran a story about a man who could sneeze bees but that was all he'd really heard of. Everyone else had a pitifully weak party trick.
Except Donny. Nobody else had his power. And he was starting to love it. Never again would he be stuck in traffic. He actually enjoyed going to the DMV. Using his power at moderate intensity made waiting in line much more bearable. He could hold his breath for days if he wanted. Plane rides took him all of 20 minutes between boarding and landing. And the best part? He could last forever in bed. His girlfriend loved his new super power. And to think it all started as a joke of the worst super power. | I guess you could say my life is pretty good. Everyone loves me. When they first began distrbution of the superpowers, everyone told everyone else what they had chosen, and even BROADCAST IT ON LIVE TV in some instances. In hindsight, they all regret if, of course, but it is too late to stop that kind of thing now. Now it seems only the most creative of people really seem super at all. Super strength, flight, invisibility, and all the other obvious ones are mostly useless now, with merely a fraction of 1% efficiency for each holder. Anyway, nowadays you head into the office building, pay 'em what they ask for, and sit in a little waiting room until they call your name; it almost feels like a visit to the doctor. They ask you what power you want and how you think it should act, just to make sure they get it right. For the common ones, they have the vials right there waiting for people, and they can be injected immediately after signing the contract. For the uncommon ones, they have to call into a "pharmacy" and have the bottle shipped to them, which means you have to wait about a week before you actually get your injection. But for the creative ones...... well those powers need to be manufactured specially for the asker. The bitterness of the almost six-month long waiting period is almost immediately soothed by the fact that you, for as long as you keep your mouth shut and your power concealed, are going to be the ONLY one with your power, which means it is going to have 100% efficiency. I was one such case.
I thought I knew what to expect, but things are better than I could have ever imagined. Everyone I know wants to be my friend, my lover, my employer, or just have anything to do with me. They don't even know why. To them, it's just *something about me*. "You just make me happy", they say. Little did they know my power was to blame. My "ability" was more like a voluntary aura. I had the ability to augment the effieciency of nearby superpowers to 100%. That's right, I chose a support class. The "problem" is, when people get used to using the 1% efficiency, they usually don't even know they can "power-up" around me. For example, the people with Flight, have grown so used to "hovering" that they don't even know they can fly with my assistance! but they *feel* more powerful around me, and just can't seem to explain why. This is almost advantageous because it allows me to mask my power more easily than I would have imagined. Still, I reserve the ability to retract my aura, should anybody start becoming suspicious of my augmentive presence. Nowadays, you just can't be too careful in guarding your ingenuity....... (to be continued?)
(Anyone feel free to continue this story. I just thought it was a clever idea.) | 2015-05-05T09:29:40 | 2015-05-05T09:18:44 | 47 | 25 |
[WP] One day, while playing cops and robbers a child points his finger at a friend and makes the noise, "Pew, pew." The friend is nearly shot. Turns out, the child can effect reality by making sounds with his mouth. Gunshot noises, falling objects, cars screeching to a halt, slot machines etc... | I was born an ordinary child, no different from the rest of the kids in my neighborhood, but one day I suddenly discovered that I had quite the peculiar ability. Ever since then my life had been far from ordinary.
Sometimes I wish I could go back to my earlier days.
"Check his pockets."
A gruff voice jolts me awake.
"Yes, boss."
I could feel hands rummaging through my clothes. I try to open my eyes but a dark cloth is tightly coiled around my head.
"Boss, he's got nothing on him. No weapons, no phone, no money."
A hand reaches for the back of my head. He rips the blindfold off my eyes.
"So you're the kid who's been messing up my operations?" a man wearing a dark suit asks me as he scrutinizes me with his glare. He's sitting leisurely in his seat, swirling a drink in his hand.
I look around me slowly, still adjusting to the harsh light. It looks like I'm in an abandoned warehouse. Two towering, burly men stand on either side of me. My arms and legs are bound. There's no walking out of this one.
"Are you sure the you've got the right guy?" the boss addresses the men near me with doubt in his voice. "This kid's way too young. He doesn't look like he could handle a handgun, let alone a high-caliber rifle."
They look at each other for a moment before one of them decides to answer their boss.
"We found him near the site, hiding in one of the buildings. He was the only questionable person around, and he fits the description. It has to be him," he answered.
"Hm," the boss tilts his head ponderously as he eyes me again.
I try to speak but I'm gagged. I only manage, "*Ump*, *ugbmm*, *Ugmpbbb*!~~"
"Well then. Let's see what this kid has to say. I think you guys may have fucked up," the boss says to his henchmen.
A hand rips the gag out of my mouth.
I couldn't help but grin.
The boss frowns. "What you grinning about kid? You think this shit's funny?"
He whips out a pistol and aims it at me.
I start laughing hysterically.
One of the henchmen makes a move, a fist raised and ready to pummel my face in.
"*Pew, pew, pew*."
Three bullet holes punctures his chest as blood spurts out like mist.
"What the fuck?!" the boss yelps as he falls off his seat.
I turn around and face the other henchmen.
He already has his pistol trained on me. He pulls the trigger.
"*Woooosh!*" I shout.
The bullets misses, passing safely over my head.
"*Pew, pew.*"
The henchmen keels over, gasping for breath but his punctured lungs fail him.
I turn my attention to the boss, but he's no longer in his seat. He's already scrambling for the door. Smart. He knows when to run when his ass is in shit way over his head.
"You're dead meat kid! You don't know who you're messing with. You've got the whole mafia on your ass now kid!"
I smile. I've got the best response for his sort.
"*Kabooom.*"
-----
----
/r/em_pathy
Had to rush this one out, didnt get a chance to look it over. Sorry if there are alot of errors! | Jamie stared, wide-eyed at the bullet holes in the wall behind him. Two smoking cavities punctured in concrete, still trickling dust. He rounded, slowly on Carl, mouth agape. "W-what did you do?" he said, a tremor in his voice.
Carl was just staring at his trembling hand. "I--I didn't--I don't..." He moved his hand, his pointed finger sweeping in Jamie's direction again.
"Watch out!" Jamie dove behind the overturned wheelbarrow in front of the garage. "Careful where you point that thing!"
Carl continued to stare at his finger. This time, he pointed away from Carl towards a tree. He narrowed his eyes, focusing, and clenched his hand.
Nothing happened.
Frowning, Carl tried again. Still nothing.
"What if--what if it's the noise?" said Jamie. The initial shock was wearing off, to be replaced by a mounting curioisty. He stayed crouched behind his wheelbarrow, but peered over the top, watching Carl's every move.
Carl shrugged. "Pshh," he said. "Why would the noise--" He stopped as a jet of water arched out of nowhere and splattered the tree. Where had... How had... Then he realized. Jamie was right. He'd meant 'psh,' as a dismissive noise, but somehow, the sound had conjured the water.
This time he pointed his finger at the tree and said, "Pew. Pew."
Immediately, their ears were met with the quick retort of gunfire. Chunks were blasted out of the tree and the scent of gunsmoke wafted on the breeze.
"That is..." Jamie's mouth moved, but words wouldn't come out. "Incredible," he finally managed to croak. "That is amazing. How? How are you doing that?"
Carl was as stunned as his friend. "I don't know. It--it's gotta be those after school voice acting classes."
"Serious?"
"I did them to get out of the school play. But--but the teacher is really good... A little strange too."
Jamie clapped his hands. "Do something else!" he exclaimed.
Carl cleared his throat, then growled like a car engine. He made the sound louder than a regular engine, filled with the sort of pops and sparks that his cousin Tony's Mustang GT had. As quick as thought, a bright red Mustang appeared around the corner of the cul-de-sac and sped towards the boys. They both stared in wonder as it came cruising at them.
"Carl," Jamie said, nervously. "Make it stop!"
The Mustang kept coming, it would have colided with the boys if Carl hadn't, at the top of his lungs, made a screeching sound with his voice.
The car came to a sudden, skidding halt, spitting gravel and snarling smoke.
The boys shared a wild eyed look, caught somewhere between delight and awe.
"Wanna go for a ride?" said Jamie, rising from behind his wheelbarrow.
Scared of what might happen if he spoke, Carl flashed a thumbs up, and the boys got into the car.
***
r/josephdanielauthor
​ | 2018-12-02T11:12:30 | 2018-12-02T09:18:25 | 397 | 132 |
[WP] War is the bread and butter of your people, so you were taken aback when the enemy saved your life. Cheated of a Good Death, you awake in a human field hospital and treated better here than back amongst your peers. Here, they even remember your name. Your loyalty drastically shifts... | Among my people, the words for *war* and *life* are the same. I will not hammer out the tired wisdom of that polysemy for you. You know better than most. You have seen it with your own eyes. You have felt it buck in your shoulder with each trigger pull, or heave in your shoulders with each tear shed for the fallen. But despite your enigmatic empathy, we are the same, your kind and mine. Or so I thought, for so long. It is only now I see you are *better.*
After one cycle of life, my kindred was thrown into its first crucible. Still young, still soft, we cleaned our weapons in our ship bays and listened to the drumbeat of war. Against the Vitrolian Annex, we were told there could be no quarter. None given, none received. We put their nests to flame and crushed the writhing maggots of their young in our armored claws. They captured our wounded and let their larvae feed on my maimed brethren from inside-out.
After the second cycle of my life, the blooded among us were dispatched to bring peace to the Cold Stars. Knowing what you know of our definitions of *war* and *life,* I should imagine you can guess what word shares its shape with *peace.* We did as instructed. And once the wasteland arcologies of the Cold Star Kin had been consecrated into haunted mausoleums, we departed on howling void ships that burnt the atmosphere to its constituent molecules. The flames we lit immolated even the ghosts of those worlds, until only aether and ash remained.
Ten cycles passed before I ascended to the Exemplarship, and our tribal empire was given its first and noblest challenge. The *sapiens* of Grug, called human in their tongue, *your* tongue. Understand, we had never faced true warriors before we faced you. We had never faced any worthy of our blades. And whatever you may think yourselves—lovers, thinkers, artists—you are *warriors.*
In the Oort Cloud skirmishes, your hit-and-run tactics devastated our fleets. Intrigued we were by this impudence, but we adapted. We surrendered the time-honored tradition of invitation-battle to fight you where tactical need dictated. When you first unleashed your soulless soldiers of quantum intelligence on the red sands of your seed world, Mars, we saw this as a mark of honor rather than desperation. It was not that you feared to fight us, for we knew of your war-kin's excellence by reputation. But we had not yet proven our worth to you; you would not deign to fight us with your own flesh and blood, nor sully your weapons with our ichor.
Oh, how our blood blazed at this challenge. How it *burned!* When first we sailed to your crown world of gray skies and acid seas—when first we reddened your own sands with your own oxygenous blood—the purity of our pleasure made our skin sing. Your warrior caste, perfected through gene-science and engrammatic indoctrination, hardened by powered carapace that rivalled the strength of our most venerable blooded, trained in the waging of war as if it were a science rather than a passion, cut us down just as quickly as they fell.
You were... perfect. And you offered me all I had ever wanted since the moment of my birth and my mothers told me my purpose.
You offered me peace.
So when fragmentation from a stray shell in the tree-infested swamps of your Amazon wounded me, and your meticulous surgeons deprived me of the final rest I had so long sought, you can understand my displeasure, and why it has taken me so long to answer your inquiries. I thought you were taunting me. I thought you were torturing me, just as the Vitrolian Talon Kin had tortured my brethren when they'd injected their young maggots into our bellies and let them feast upon us from within. I thought you enjoyed it. And never once did I stop to think why I had craved *peace* for so long.
But by the fifth rotation of your planet, I began to understand. Your nurses—your *nurses,* soldiers in their own, loving way—came and spoke to me in *my* tongue. You asked how I was. How was I? How could I have been but wrathful? My entire kindred had been slain over the years, to return to the heavenly halls of our tribal mothers. I had faced down a human champion and pounded my claws upon my breastplate in challenge. Then the caprice of gravity and steel rain had stolen me the honor of duelling him, of rest.
Why did I seek rest? It didn't matter. I was angry. I was spiteful. I was so, so sick.
She put her hand on mine, the nurse, and her two eyes looked into my eight.
"Everything," she spoke, her tongue enthralling the sounds of my people's tongue, the tongue of my fathers and mothers, the tongue of my war and my life, "will be all right."
Life, my kind are told, is war. That is its finest iteration. From you, in the span of these days, I have learned the opposite may be true. Life can be peace.
You ask why we came, or why we fight you. I answer you now. It is because we have not known kindness. It is because we have not known you.
u/AdeptnessPrize | **PART 1**
A dozen plasma rifles pointed at the fortified door, popping up from behind makeshift barricades and peeking around pillars. Bright sparkles rained down onto the polished metal floor from an ever increasing glowing red line in the door. Amidst the focussed firepower, one pistol wielding defender paced between the walls with his head held high. He knew his orders: defend the fortress or die trying. It seemed it would have to be the latter - at least he would be able to complete that task.
“I don’t have to tell you how this will end, but take comfort in knowing that we will soon see eachother again in the Halls of the Fallen.” He glimpsed at the door and continued: “I expect you each to take at least five of them with you. They will pay dearly for this final chamber.”
The line almost met itself at the top of the door. The officer stopped pacing and aimed at this door, his arm outstretched like a steel beam.
“Death to the humans!”
A war-cry rang through the room as the line completed its journey. The piece of reinforced door fell inward, already getting punctured by a hail of glittering orb-like projectiles, and soon the response came in the form of a torrent of orange flashes.
Whether it was a few minutes or just a couple of seconds, the officer couldn’t say. But in the end he found himself slumped against the back wall, his pistol gone and his men dead. In his dazed state he slowly ran his fingers along his natural carapace and concluded his vitals had not been hit. But there came one of those humans, undoubtedly for the coup de grâce. The officer watched as the human leveled the weapon at his face. He was ready to leave this plane of existence, where war and violence held sway. He’d seen and done his fair share and had earned his place in the Halls.
A white light washed over him, blinding him, but instead of long dead warriors greeting him, nothing happened.
“This one is still alive!” the human called out and flicked the flashlight on his weapon back off. Another human came up as his consciousness left him.
He opened his eyes in a small cubicle with walls made of tarp and a light affixed to the ceiling that emitted a blue glow. His first impressions of the Halls were not good, but perhaps this was a sort of practical joke they played on new arrivals. The blue light was quite soothing at least. He laid on something soft, and was covered with white cloth. He peeled the cloth away with one hand and uncovered some peculiarities: his other hand was manacled to an iron rod and he did not wear his decorated warrior attire. Instead, his body was wrapped in thick cloth. One of the tarp walls parted and in stepped what he understood to be a female human carrying a tray, followed by a male one with a clipboard. On his head rested a cap with a single silver star in the middle
He recoiled as the realization hit him.
“You denied me a warrior's death, honourles cur!” he hissed at his captors.
The woman stopped and looked at the man, who exclaimed something and fished a device out of his fatigues that he strapped around his forehead.
“Beg your pardon, could you repeat that?” the human said in the tongue of the officer’s species, the Zami.
“You should have killed me. I thought one thing you and us could agree on was that soldiers deserve a good death. What now? Are you going to torture me? Parade me around the capital of your home planet?” The officer quickly scanned the room for something to fight with.
“Heavens no! We are just here to check up on you, and talk, if your strength allows it.” The human nodded at the woman, who then tentatively inched around the bed, watching the officer with a hint of fear in her eyes, and placed the tray on a table next to him. She jumped back before he could even think of making a grab at her. Instead he inspected the contents of the tray - filled with treats and delicacies from home, amazingly.
“How did you get this?” he demanded from the woman, who seemed to be half-swallowed by the tarp behind her.
“Ah, her expertise is in the nutritions of your kind,” the man responded and turned his head to the woman. “I’ll take it from here.”
The woman arched an eyebrow and the man grumbled something as he fingered the device on his forehead. He exchanged a quick word and the woman left in a hurry. The officer picked up the tray and hovered it close to face. It looked and smelled like the real stuff, at least, from what he could remember. This was the stuff that was reserved for the Zami elites. The last time he had something similar was before he was sent out on his assignment, which could now more aptly be described as a suicide mission. He was allowed to have some during his briefings at the Capital Ship, where the fleet admiral had graciously allowed him and his colleagues a taste from his well kept stores. Perhaps it was like something a jailor gives to the condemned on the day of reckoning. | 2022-08-03T15:27:43 | 2022-08-03T15:06:40 | 476 | 73 |
[WP] The human species has gone extinct thousands of years ago. Extraterrestrial explorers find a sample of human DNA and decide to resurrect the species once again. You are the first new human growing up in a completely alien society. | I remember vividly when I was born. Ok, not BORN per se, but more grown in a dish watched over by hundreds of blue skinned doctors waiting for me to do something interesting
You know, your standard human deal. I can say that now since everything I do is the human standard. Stubbing my toe? Human standard. Wanderlust? Human standard. Being paraded around the planet as the greatest marvel known to all biologists? You get the idea
I was taught early on what had happened. Humans went to war, died, and faded. The human standard, apparently, according to the few texts that survived. I picked up my "name" from some old general named Bismarck. It rolls off the tongue far easier than Gen-Experiment Alpha.
My doctors never let me believe that I was one of them. A bit sad, but necessary. If I thought I was one of them, they couldn't observe me at my natural state. Nature versus nurture, you know? Because of that, they were never my parents. That'd be a lot of parents, as well. Project Lead Stru was always there, from the beginning. What a guy. Technically speaking, what an "it" since they are all hermaphrodites. He always struck me as a man though.
All the Galaxy has come to see me. I'm the first successfully cloned extinct creature ever, at least with this success. I have flaws, sure, but that just makes everyone love me more. It's good to be famous. The dead guys don't know what they're missing | "Well what do you mean, isn't it inconvenient to have to put on an environment suit? It protects me."
"Yes, but don't you wish you didn't have to? How can they justify keeping you in captivity like this?"
"I haven't exactly experienced the alternative, I wouldn't know what to wish for. I guess I wish I knew which one I'd prefer, but everyone wishes that about every decision. They justify it by feeding me and maintaining my equipment. I've been learning a few common languages, too, so translation software won't be an issue in a pinch."
"Have you no pride? You passively take whatever they give you and don't even dream of freedom!"
"Come back in 3 days."
*2 days later*
*I was the first. I will not be the last. Their cloning tools were somewhat simple to learn, and they already had a fairly large bank of DNA to draw from. That, combined with their controlled differentiation tech, should let us repopulate. Let us thrive. A shame about the researchers, though. Had to be done.*
"Ah, you again, welcome back. When I said I had learned a few languages, one of those was the language of life: DNA sequencing. You see, I do have aspirations. And they're almost done with the knowledge implantation stage." | 2015-04-24T07:55:21 | 2015-04-24T07:48:27 | 39 | 25 |
[WP] In a world of superpowers, your power is the ability to control any nonsentient object - but only one object at a time. Most people think that this ability is near useless. They just aren't thinking big enough. | "We have you cornered" barked general Parker, at the wanted man. The army guided the wanted man to an isolated field outside the city. They knew his powers to manipulate inanimate object had the potential to cause major damage to their cities. Clouds, buildings, who knew what else.
The general was nervous because he had been given detailed information on the target. The target could manipulate one object at any time. The obvious concerns were how large of an object could he manipulate. What counted as an object? A building? The entire city? There were too many unknowns and that bothered the general far more than executing an innocent man for possesing a potentially immense power. He hoped he could silently eliminate the man, but the president didnt want the man to die not knowing why. The president didnt want to be though of as an assasin. People are stupid thought general Parker, but orders were orders.
"You are too dangerous to let live. It is unfortunate but its for the good of humanity. Your powers seem to be too great, but we have taken the precautions to prevent you from harming us. Come out from behind the car and lets get this over with"
The wanted man replied, "I am just a scientist, why make an enemy of me? Just let me go and i wont hurt anyone". The general replied, "You may be harmless but what if you lose your temper and make a city disappear. Or hell crash the earth into the sun. Most people when they heard about your powers just didn't think big enough. My orders are absolute. Dont make this harder. We know your powers work within a certain range so its no use. Im sorry but you need to die to save millions"
"So im a dead man regardless of what i say? Fine we will play it that way. I happen to be a physicist. Do you know what happens when we try to split an atom. Its true people may not have thought big enough, but did anyone think small enough?"
General Parker knew he should have just killed the man stealthily, but orders were orders. "Fuck" | Shield Maiden had just thrown up her strongest defence when the figure appeared.
Monmonmon-mon didn't hesitate, what was one more casualty in a bloodbath? So the rain of fire came down regardless. A hailstorm of white hot death melted through the city for a block in every direction. Only those beneath her shield array had any chance at all and only that if she could hold out against the storm.
Except...there was no strain. No fire burning against the barrier she had forged of her soul. No malice sparking against the core of her being.
Countless tiny stars fell from the sky and she could only tell it was happening by the lightshow that shone through the protection of her visor.
Again, the super-bastard did not pause for thought. This time it was a dozen horizontal geysers of water, thrusting like spears and massing like iron pillars, and this time the attack was focused on her. An obvious attempt to smash her aside and reach those she was protecting.
As it splashed off her with all the impact of a child's water gun, Shield Maiden realised that her apparent protection extended far beyond the edges of her shield. For as far as she could see in any direction the people -people she had given up on saving just moments earlier- were unharmed. The fire had not burned them. The water did no worse than wet them. When the ice followed, turning every scrap of moisture into an explosion of razor edges and pain, that did just as little.
Monmonmon-mon finally paused. Even his mad determination faltering in the face of impossibility. Which was when the figure spoke, and they both remembered they even existed with a start.
"Is this what fights are always like? I thought there'd be more, you know, talking." | 2021-08-13T06:45:52 | 2021-08-13T04:16:49 | 128 | 15 |
[WP] You have a voce in your head that automatically gives you advice. One night when you start heading out you hear it say "you may want to put on your best runners." You turn away and it adds, "it would be unfavorable to turn back."
"Voice." Dumb typo :/ | **\[WP\] You have a voice in your head that automatically gives you advice. One night when you start heading out you hear it say "you may want to put on your best runners." You turn away and it adds, "it would be unfavourable to turn back."**
I don't really doubt the voice. Why would I? I've gotten out of too much danger to disregard anything that it says. without looking back, I simply yank on my Nikes and walk stiffly out the door. I don't know what is behind me, but it's probably an alien tentacle fasklfjsa;fasdfj monster intent on my delicious pancreas.
It's only after I'm past my driveway that I realise I reflexively put on my EMT jacket as I was going out the door. I'm just about to turn back out of habit, when the voice almost yells into my lower brain. It is very much against having me go back into my house. Yep, it's probably a fjasfasklfjsa;fasdfj monster. No biggie, I was only going down the road to the Bottle'O for some grog. I'm at the Cornady St intersection when the voice in my head tells me to go left. the Bottle'O is straight down the street. By this time, I'm pretty interested, so I follow it's orders. Ten metres down the street, the voice tells me to run like I'm on fire.
Three minutes later, I'm about a kilometre down the road, and begging the voice to end me before I receive lung induced rib fractures.
"Keep going".
"Fuckn oath" I wheeze. My heart rate is a healthy a;fjs;flsdjf beats a minute now, and I've probably earned more than a rum and coke.
Suddenly, I hear screaming from the park on my left.
"This is it".
I'm already running toward the screams, and get there to find a distraught mother cradling a purple three year old girl. Instantly going into paramedic mode, I grab the child and begin emergency care. It turns out the poor kiddie swallowed a marble. I almost pass out with relief when it pops out of her mouth and hits me in the left eye. The girl drags in deep breaths and promptly begins to wail. I hand the child back to her crying mother and slump onto the concrete with my back against a rubbish bin.
Had I been three seconds later, the girl would have died. | "Move"
"Move now, Faster"
The voice in the back of my head whispers as I run down the street. The sense of urgency making me run faster as the world blurs, too fast. Houses become blurs, as the screams of my neighbors begin echoing all around all. The sounds of bone being broken, flesh torn off, and cries of mercy makes me stop and freeze up.
" You need to keep running, you are not strong enough to face him yet" the voice pleads, as the sounds of a thousand whispers begin enter my ears drowning out the lone voice in my head.
"Hey Jon good buddy why did you run?" a familiar voices calls behind as the whispering of cosmic secrets try to their best to seduce. "I thought we were gonna have lasagna and watch some tv" the voice though familiar sounds distorted.
"Had to chase you all the way here, and you know how exercising makes me hungry" I felt a chill down my spine as i notice all the screaming stop and the world is dead silent. "You know I can't have you leave me Jon, you complete me"
I feel the presence come closer as the whispers become screams, and something grabs me and turns me around. I see a fat orange cat sitting down looking at me "Well Jon let head back to the house Odie is waiting on us"
"Odie is dead Jon remember" the voice somehow breaks through the whispering, "He killed him long time ago , You need to run before he takes control again, I won't be able to chip away at his control again I am just no longer strong enough"
"OH IS THAT LIZ I HEAR" Garfield calls out breaking my thoughts, as I watch my cat slowly transform into towering mass of flesh and bone. " TELL THE WHORE YOU ARE MINE AND MINE ALONE, you complete me Jon and I can't have no one take you away from me"
​
​
Truthfully I have no idea where I am going with this, but recently been lurking in the r/imsorryjon and found the fanmade mythos to be amazing. If anyone can use this and make it better please do | 2019-06-04T08:11:31 | 2019-06-04T05:55:31 | 26 | 17 |
[FF] As the new private eye in town, you've seen a lot of cases that made you scratch your head. But never one as odd as this. 400 words or less.
* 400 words or less
* Try to write in the noir style (awful similes and metaphors are encouraged) | I slammed my restored '67 Impala's door behind me as I stepped into the grimy night. Patrolmen had already sectioned off the scene. Gawkers flocked to the sight like starved dogs at a dead squirrel convention. I flashed my badge at the young gun posted at the borderline and ducked under the tape.
The precinct chef was already surveying the victim. Good guy, but fatter than a sweet-toothed nun with a glandular problem.
"What have we got here, Lou?"
"Detective." He stood and nodded. "Looks like pancakes. Based on the consistency, it looks like some souped up Aunt Jemima mix. Although with these buttery top notes, Bisquick isn't out of the question."
Two thin, pajama-clad legs poked out the bottom of a massive pancake like two chopsticks sticking out the bottom of a massive pancake.
"Fourth case this month," I said. "Any witnesses?"
"None, Detective."
"This guy's trickier than the back of the Village Voice on a lonely Friday night, Lou."
"You said it." Lou ripped off another chunk near the center to get a sample.
A horrifically burnt young man's face lay underneath. His mouth filled with baked dough. He had been trying to eat his way out.
"Christ son, you look less recognizable than a MoMA exhibition."
"Please... help..."
I bent down real close. "Tell us son. Who did this?"
"It was late... I didn't want a whole meal. That's all." He started tearing. "The man wouldn't stop yelling. He said... 'You must be joking, mate. Pancakes for facking dinner? Instant? Piss on that! Why don't you pull your finger out your ass and make a proper supper!'" The young man sobbed wildly.
"This will all be over soon. We're going to catch this guy. Did you get a name, son? Anything at all?"
"Ramsay... Gordon Ramsay."
"Good. That's great son. Let us get you something to ease the pain." I stepped away, unable to bear the sight of suffering anymore. "Syrup! Get this man some maple syrup! Now damnit!"
Two medics skittered towards us like a pair of West Virginians at a chicken chase.
"We've got a name, Lou. We're gonna nab this bastard." I sparked a menthol as they poured Canadian brown into the mess of a man's open mouth. This night was just getting started. | Jack Jones had the complexion of a leather boot and the personality of an over-brewed coffee. He almost believed it was these two qualities alone that had made him into the renowned Private Eye he was today. People couldn't care less if you could track down an adulterer or solve a grisly murder in less time than it took to search the phonebook for alternatives. It was all about style, this game. At least, he told himself that as he lit the hand-rolled cigarette he hated so much, feet on the worn wooden desk in a part of town rats didn't frequent for fear of getting mugged. It was raining and Jack's left knee was hurting, so he assumed there was a client coming.
And at eleven-thirty sharp, just as the lunchtime rush began at the seedy Chinese restaurant-cum-brothel opposite, the bell rang.
"See 'em in, Gina." Jack barked, before remembering that Gina wasn't around no more. She'd given her notice after the Italian mob sent a firebomb through the letterbox. Jack'd sent her flowers, but it turns out flowers don't make up for third degree burns.
So he stood up and got the door himself, cigarette still hanging out the corner of his mouth like a half thought-out statement he was trying to retract.
"Detective." The woman on the other side of the door was beautiful in a way which would make other people say she was beautiful, but Jack could see the loose skin around her neck and the crows feet around her eyes, not quite disguised by the scarf and makeup which probably cost more than a 'three course meal' at the resto-brothel across the road.
"Not any more." Jack growled. "Take a seat."
She didn't.
"I need to speak to you about extremely private matters."
"Is it your husband?"
She gasped. "How did you know?"
"It's always a husband. He cheating?"
She turned white under the makeup.
"No," she whispered, hands clutching the back of the chair Jack kept reserved for clients and the police.
"What is it then?"
"I-" She faltered. "I need you to help me kill him." | 2014-05-08T08:06:29 | 2014-05-08T05:47:17 | 28 | 13 |
[WP] There is nothing unusual about a man in a business suit carrying a briefcase, rushing off to work. But since he just quickly passed you as you are climbing up Mount Everest in full winter gear, you have questions. | "He--hey! Wait up!", I yelled to the stranger only for him to ignore me.
The cold wind and lack of oxygen in this altitude didn't seem to bother him. What bothered me the most was his lack of struggling coursing pass the deep thick blanket of snow.
"Hey you! He--hey!", I kept yelling trying to keep up, disregarding my own well-being.
The man however, kept staring forward. Taking a huge gait with his every step, although as the landscape got steeper he finally slowed down allowing me to catch up.
"Hey! Did you hear me calling you?", I grabbed him by his shoulder.
"Hey watch it! It's an expensive suit! You're going to wrinkle it!", finally he acted like a normal person-- or rather a condescending normal person.
"What the hell are you doing dressed like this?", I yelled fighting against the wind. My full winter gear barely protected my body from the cold, I couldn't imagine how little to no protection his business suit did to him.
"What? What's wrong with how I dress? I dress to impress, always!"
Behind my mask my mouth went agape.
"Man, this is Mount Everest! We are at 8,000 meters right now!", I yelled again.
"I know! Isn't that exciting? I'm almost at the top!"
"Yeah but...you shouldn't dress like that up here! You could die! You should've died long ago!"
"My friend, I don't have time for death! I'm too busy climbing up the ladder to the very top! I will get a bonus and a raise when I do", he smiled.
"Bonus? Raise? What the hell are you talking about? This is not a corporate ladder! Don't you see all the bodies strewn about in the snow? Those people were more prepared than you and they died right here!"
"Well, you can't get to the very top without leaving a trail of dead bodies", he smiled shrugging.
The man, seemingly done with me turned around and kept walking forward, all the way to the summit of the mountain.
I was stunned speechless, not knowing whether the man was a dedicated businessman or a fool who takes metaphors way too seriously.
r/HangryWritey | This was supposed to be my life's achievement. We had big projects with Andrew, plans for decades : a home, neighbors, holidays with the family, children... But he couldn't handle the miscarriage, neither could I. He left quietly. I think we talked about it, putting meaningless words on the unexplainable chaos.
Before I realised I was talking with Mom, maybe immediately after, when did he leave again ? She told me don't lie on the ground like a wounded animal, you've been hurt, all right, now take your shit, get them together, and act like a real woman. Mom's never been really gentle, but she's often right. Like that time with the mailman... Or was he the tennis coach ?
Anyway I had to find something, to stay up and outdo myself. It seemed obvious, I had to climb on the tip of the top of the thing, the world, the mountain, that big word. I prepared for months, it kept me busy 24/7, I had to do it and to do it on my own.
Boy wasn't I expecting something like that. The beginning was hard, it was cold, but I was prepared. I kept on going I had to do it. After two days I was exhausted, I kept on climbing. When my hands were si called I couldn't properly open my bag or eat, I kept on going up. When I dropped my bag of food in the ravine, I didn't turn back. Had I made a quick math, I would've drawn the rational conclusions. But I'm not good at math and I kept on believing.
But now, I'm not sure. When I saw that motherfucker rushing past me, with his suit, his briefcase, his glasses, I just said hi. I thought je was just going to get the metro. Where's the nearest metro line by the way ? I don't think I've heard of it. I think he answered. He said hi. He might've smiled at me. I'm not sure. I may take the metro to come down. | 2021-01-31T23:20:17 | 2021-01-31T22:53:19 | 100 | 55 |
[WP] With total war as a foreign concept to the rest of our galaxy. Everyone saw humans as the negotiators and the peace makers, soft and weak, today is the day the galaxy finds out why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism. | When Man made its first steps on its home planet’s moon, it had no knowledge of the multitude of civilisations and peoples that ruled over various parts of the Galaxy. They have come far since those early days of the World Wars and the Space Race, and they have learnt much since then.
Man was admitted into the Galaxial Council in 2124. Eager to learn from other civilisations, they quickly shared much of their culture, their laws and their technology.
Acting friendly to our stellar neighbours, Man quickly gained a reputation as the most peaceful species known throughout the Galaxy. Other species would settle disagreements through war and terror, but Man would negotiate and advocate for peace.
Man quickly gained many nicknames for its peaceful nature. “Speakers”, for their strong preference to use their words to end conflicts over their guns. “Pens”, taken from their own quote that “the pen is mightier than the sword”. “The Lawmakers”, for their many bills they raised in the Council, seemingly irrelevant and useless, a waste of time.
Until now.
The Vogonids first met members of the Galaxial Council in 2503. They were a warring race, with a bloodlust unmatched in all of the Galaxy.
Man tried to welcome them, negotiate with them to arrive at a peaceful and agreed on deal for them to join the Galaxial Council, but they would have none of that.
The Vogonids were violent and straight to the point. They knew what they wanted, and they would get what they wanted.
In 2516, the Vogonids joined the Galaxial Council after Man agreed to their demands nearly completely. Man did not want war, and Man convinced the other members of the Council to let them run free for now, to ignore their rampant violence.
Until now.
In 2529, a Vogonid fleet flew into Man’s commercial settlement of Aurus, near the center of the Galaxy. Man let them land, or intent to trade and share our culture and experiences, and were met with plasma blasters and nuclear bombs.
The Vogonids knew what they wanted, and they were going to get what they wanted. And this time, they set their sights on Man.
The Vogonids did not waste time on ultimatums or negotiation talks. Thousands of Vogonid cruisers, with millions of weapons and crew on board, struck hard and fast on each of Man’s colonies and settlements.
Man spoke out fiercely, demanding the Vogonids to stop their invasion and for the Galaxial Council to cease the war. No one would join the call against the Vogonids. Some would even join their fight against Man. They had all witnessed the power of the Vogonid fleet, and seen the weakness in Man. Throughout its 4 centuries of participation in the Galaxial Council, Man had not won a single war, preferring to peacefully cede territory in exchange for peace. No species would be daft enough to support a race that would die in the first days of conflict.
Seeing that the Council would not support us in the Vogonid invasion, we left the Councilby the end of the week. Man would stand alone in its fight against the Vogonids, and Man would lose, as it had lost every other war it had fought.
Until now.
For the first time in decades, the Terran War Council was called. In the War Council, a unanimous decision was made. Man would strike back, harder and stronger than ever, with fierceness and strength not seen since the days before Man stepped into space. Man would forego the centuries-old Geneva Convention, and formally declare a state of Total War.
No other species understood what we meant. A term which had not been invoked since before Man joined the Galaxial Council. Two words that would irrevocably change the course of the Galaxy.
Man fought ferociously, calling upon weaponry which had not seen the face of battle for decades. The Vogonids had stronger weapons and took over Man’s settlements one by one. But with each recolonisation, each takeover, Man would stand stronger than ever, united against a common enemy.
The Vogonids attacked with vigour, but Man defended as one. Man would lose settlement after settlement, solar system after solar system, but the Vogonids would not gain from it. Man would torch the planet before it left, burning away all the supplies and resources the Vogonids needed from this war.
And eventually, through a long battle that lasted years, the tide began to turn.
The 23rd Vogonid Cruiser Fleet would be destroyed completely in its invasion of Proxima Centauri. Others would soon follow. By the time the Vogonids reaches the Oort Cloud, they would lose nearly all of their Cruisers in their war with us.
But we were just getting started.
In 2964, the 1st Terran Cruiser Fleet would reclaim Proxima Centauri.
By 3121, the 33rd Terran Cruiser Fleet would take the Vogonid home planet of Vogonisphere.
Man had shown the Galaxy that it was a force to be reckoned with.
And the Council was next.
=============================
If I remember correctly, this is my second writing prompt I've ever done. I'd love some comments and advice for my writing, and thanks for taking the time to read through this!
Edit: Gonna make a new account for prompts, the one that replied down there, so check that one if you want to see a part two! | *(First time posting, ideas for improvement welcome)*
I'm so tired, in anguish over the events of the last few years.
In Hindsight it had all started when we joined the Universal Alliance all those centuries ago.
Humans had waged war among themselves for so long, so was it such a sin to want to be seen as a race of peace and aid when finally joining others among the stars. To hide our helmets, kevlar vests and and weapons in a dark closet, to leave a bloody past behind and make sure MADness would not end up being a concept spanning across the cosmos. Though that didn't mean we did not develop new means to cause it, out of our ingrained paranoia.
It went well for those centuries, I guess. We were seen as traders, negotiators of peace, conservationists and by some even as close allies and friends. Alas it apperently was not meant to last eternally as so many had hoped. The KriVak were never part of the Alliance, but had mostly kept to themselves in their galaxy, taking a few uninhabited solar systems and doing trade with those willing to do so, even us humans for some time. The Coup that toppled their isolationist, though still mostly democratic, goverment, replacing it with a brainwashing tyranny was seen with caution by the Alliance. At first nothing much seemed to come from it, trade with them cut off but nothing much else happend. We were fools at the time.
The first warning that rattled most Alliance members awake was a accidently caught intrasystem transmission which repaetly referred to the KriVak as ***the universes chosen species.*** As you can imagine having had experience with religious fanatics on our own world humans were immediately planning defense strategies against verything possible, urging the other races that make up the Alliance to do the same, even devulging parts of our seldomly mentioned history the emphasize out point.
The second warning was harsh and cruel. The Nili had a station simalar to ours with the rest of the cosmos, friendly and supportive. Not to mention that the the entire race was made up by a population of around average human sized balls of fluffy fur with telekinetic powers, truly beloved by all. They only had one solar system and that was a bit out of the way much like our own. The KriVak decide taking out exactly that suppoting kind of race was an excellent plan of attack. Nobody could react fast enough as an entire fleet of Krivak military arrived at the Nili system and eradicated the main homeworld, enslaving or slaughtering the entire population before quickly taking whatever of the Nili was scattered in their system. We Humans knew that we would be next, our instincts we blarring with the coming danger and our hearts were at first sorrowful but soon much worse due to the loss of such good friends. The hearts of humanity felt something that they had not felt in long time.
​
**A HUNGER FOR ANOTHERS COMPLETE ERADICATION.**
​
Of course even there had been minor things before, lifes lost, planets taken and so on but we had kept diplomatic . Life was never perfect, but nothing of this magnitude until now. The dark lockers were broken open and the basements full of inventions bor of paranoia , never meant to see the light of the stars. But those desperate prayes wer now mute. When we got wind of the KriVak about to entere our system we send them a message that a lot of slaves would be waiting for them on the eartgs moon ready to be taken on board their fleet as sign of surrender. Those delusional idiots believed us and took some onto all of theirs ships but one. Well lets say we had at some point become really good at making androids look really life like and that this *slave batch* just so happnede to be loaded with nuclear fusions bombs. Once they were spread out in each ship, the signal for detonations was given and well.... boom. The one unaffected ship flet in panic.
The third warning was for the KriVak. A fleet loaded with a virus engineerd to only affect them spread across the Nili system and drooped its cargo otno every planet and station and ship to be found. Acoording to the Nili it was *"grotesque but statisfying to watch"* as the the modified lebra outbreak made them rod frome the inside out.
They refused to surrender in the end, as a planet sized mech hovered near their homeworld, shaped like a valkyri of ancient myths, brandishing a lance at the plant. A lance that would turn their atmosphere into plasma in but a few minutes boiling adult and child alike. The commander pressed the button that would not only end the KriVak, but also end the humans as they are known by the cosmos, and reawaken from it's crypt the form of humanity that they were never supposed to see. Humanity that would need to carefully balance at the edge of MADness with not only those outside but also the members of the Allicance, due to the fear they would feel, that we did not want our friends to feel. | 2018-12-15T01:30:53 | 2018-12-15T00:45:58 | 41 | 27 |
[WP] "What the hell do you mean you 'overclocked a sloth'?" | “What the hell do you mean you “overclocked a sloth”?”
“You’re familiar with the normal, everyday run-of-the-mill sloths that we've been working with, right?”
“Of course.”
“Well it’s like that, but more so.”
“So it is still a sloth.”
“Well yeah. We didn’t alter its DNA or crossbreed it, or anything along those lines. So genetically, it is still a sloth."
“But, more so.”
“Exactly.”
“You realize that makes absolutely no sense, right?”
“Okay, look. Let's say that you have a normal sloth, we’ll call it Subject A – are you with me?”
“Yes.”
“Then we have our sloth, which has been overclocked, which we will call Subject B.”
“Okay.”
“Where Subject A is your typical sloth in every conceivable fashion, Subject B is now over 800% Slothier.”
“Slothier.”
“By 800%, at least.”
“SLOTHIER ISN'T A REAL WORD.”
“It is now.”
“Look. You can’t just keep me out of my own lab by standing there and acting as if you achieved something monumental without a real, scientific explanation behind what you did to “overclock” the sloth. So please tell me; what *exactly* did you do?”
“We presented subject B with a cocktail of vitamins and enzymes that have elevated heart-rate, awareness, and energy levels exponentially.”
“By 800%.”
“At least.”
“And that’s why I can’t go into my own goddamn lab.”
“We’re currently monitoring the situation. Introducing you into the environment would skew our study. We couldn’t have predicted this outcome and we’re not sure what to expect. It’s for your own safety.”
“What was in the cocktail?”
“What?”
“What. Was in. The cocktail.”
“Specifically?”
“Yes. Specifically.”
“Um…well…glucuronic acid…L-Phenylalanine, a touch of pyridoxine hydrochloride…….niacinamide….”
“Niacinamide.”
“….yeah.”
“So what you’re saying is, you gave one of the sloths a Red Bull.”
“Tom did, yeah. Like a whole can.”
“And now it is slothier.”
“Dude, yeah. Like way more. I mean, to be honest? That thing is going absolutely ape-shit in there.”
“Goddamnit Ted.”
"Yeah, so um...you know; I wouldn't go in just yet."
| This is Why We Can't Have Nice Things
"What the hell do you mean you 'overclocked a sloth'?" My pointy haired Federal boss was agitated, very agitated and I knew why.
"Well alright, overclocked isn't actually the right word, Sir." I gritted my teeth, the fun place I started at a few years ago had become a great big nanny state, monitors everywhere, Feds putting their noses in everything. I'm mean sheesh one little lab accident and now we can't get any work done with supervision by some bureaucrat from D.C. Its not like our lab caused the problem.
"Well what do you mean than? " He crossed his arms.
"I amplified his brain functioning, nerves and reflexes. The metabolic efficiency will allow him to operate at an increased tempo about the same activity cycle as usual."
The PHB looked terribly alarmed . "Show me. Now!" He started to frantically push buttons on his smart phone .
He peered into the cage where the two toed sloth I had named Charlie was snoozing. "Is he sedated." And the idiot walked right into the cage. There was a loud squeak and Charlie woke up and it was followed by some screams as my boss got eaten.
Now two toed sloths occasionally eat birds and such, I've never heard of them eating people but again Charlie has a pretty prodigious appetite with all his mods and I did key my boss with a phermone trigger that encouraged eating.
Clean up was going to be the proverbial beast though I wasn't worried about getting in any trouble. I'm pretty handy with computers and had carefully doctored records to make my boss look at fault and his phone couldn't call out of course.
Charlie would go to some private military contractor friends of mine and I'd join him after the heat went down. The money was way better and our lab in Africa would allow me a lot more leeway with research.
I sighed happily and got the rest of my plan, finding Charlie missing , practiced my various statements , all that jazz Life was good for man and sloth, well alright not for the pointy haired one but you want genetically engineered omelettes , you gotta break a few eggs .
And that was that,
| 2015-03-19T07:14:06 | 2015-03-19T00:47:38 | 44 | 14 |
[WP] Write a story that literally makes no sense while reading it until the very last sentence. | A deep voice comes from the basement. Each tuesday it's the same.
A letter, a number and then silence. It goes on for hours and then I hear someone screaming.
My mom went to check it out, that's when we lost her.
I heard her scream through the vent.
Dad went away, he said he'd be back for me.
I havent seen him in 2 months.
I called the police... said they couldn't do anything about it.
There was no ''crime''.
Each tuesday, a letter, a number and then nothing...
A letter, a number and then nothing...
A letter, a number and then nothing...
Someone screaming...
Each time I thought: we lost someone else...
I was going crazy. So many lives lost.
As I woke up each Wednesday morning I would see a ghost of my mother making breakfast. Pale, weak and dirty.
On a tuesday, I thought to myself i'd stop it. I would save everyone.
I was just a kid but I knew I could make a difference.
As I listened to the deep voice, I started planning.
A letter, a number and then nothing
A letter, a number and then nothing
A letter, a number and then nothing
.
.
.
BINGO
| Every time I tried it wouldnt come out. The pain was so severe, but not in the sense of extreme torture, just as an extremely annoying byproduct of what probably happens to everyone once. I cant focus on anything and at times I even shed a tear. As much as I rub, it just won't come out. What do people do to solve this anyways? Its not like I did anything to make this happen... it just happened. Maybe I'll use water.. or my finger? No the finger hurts way too much. That area is way too sensitive. They say it goes away on its own and not to worry.... fuck that!! Im not waiting around for something to disappear mysteriously into my body.
As if I hadn't already done this before, I'm sitting around thinking about what my options are. Like always, I just pray I will never have another eyelash fall into my eye. Please god. | 2015-01-12T15:38:35 | 2015-01-12T14:12:50 | 78 | 11 |
[WP] Tell me the story of how the world ends - but told entirely in Craigslist ads | 4/7/29: (69corvetteguy) WTB: 69 Stingray Corvette. 30k. Good condition, black or blue, 80k miles or less.
6/12/29 (69corvetteguy) WTB: 4WD anything. Can trade stingray corvette - good engine, quick and reliable. Good for anyone looking to risk the city. I gotta get out into the country.
6/24/29 (69corvetteguy) WTB: Guns. Preferably rifles. No sawed-off shotguns, they are too close range. Bullets included. Can trade 2 weeks rations, including potable water.
2/16/30 (69corvetteguy) WTB: Ammunition for an M-16 carbine. Magazines not necessary, just the bullets. Can trade full charge batteries.
2/16/30 (69corvetteguy) WTB: Water filter. Must have at least 6 months worth of use left. Can trade full charge batteries.
2/16/30 (69corvetteguy) WTB: Rations. Salted or smoked. Can trade full charge batteries.
2/27/30 (cripscansell) WTS: solar powered battery charger. Make an offer. Don't try anything funny, and we won't kill you. | *Newest in >for sale*
Jan 23: Sports Betting, See how easy it can be to be a winner. books & magazines - by dealer [x]
Jan 25: Between Fact and Fiction, Helping you understand the real life problems and removing the anxiety over the fictional.
Feb 23: Communication Breakdown Unleashed (MRR), When you and your loved ones lose contact, learning how to reopen that communication is key no matter the distance.
Feb 28: Surviving Assaults: A Martial Artist's Guide to Weapons, Street Violence, & Countervailing Force [Book]
Mar 13: Food Foraging For Dummies: Nibbling in Nature, prepare for the inevitable
Mar 28: I don't know who may still be here, I'm using all possible pages to find people. We're held up in a school and we are trapped, send help!
Apr 1: The Road *by Cormac McCarthy*
Dec 20: The steel coffin, Getting the dead to stay dead. | 2015-04-29T10:11:32 | 2015-04-29T09:07:02 | 86 | 15 |
[WP] War is no longer initiated by your country’s leader. War is now decided by popular vote. If you cast a vote “FOR” war, you are automatically enlisted in your country’s militia upon successful declaration of war. You voted “AGAINST,” but the rest of your family voted “FOR.” | Sitting behind the large oak desk Trevor looked out across the city sky line. Sharp shadows intersected the city as the sun hung low on the horizon, still rising to greet the day.
Opening the lid on the laptop he scanned the mornings headlines. Battle in the providences overseas had been raging for the last month since the vote to go to war. Per the Citizens Pact, everyone who voted for war, went to war for the cause. This was one of the most popular wars Trevor had ever seen.
He wasn’t surprised.
As a religious consumer of news he’d seen the right wing fervor growing over time. The hatred for the other was the message those in powers pushed to distract the people from their own suffering. It worked. While the economy continued to spiral down the people focused on how those in the providences were stealing their jobs, not that they were being robbed blind by the CEOs who were sending their jobs overseas.
Trevor did nothing to dissuade his family of the belief. In fact, he encouraged it. Moving the petty revenge to a righteous revenge. Feeding his family to the cult of hatred.
When the vote came they all voted for it.
Except for himself.
He stood at the docks and wished them well as mother, father, big brother all dressed in their fatigues were preparing to ship out.
Hugs and kisses and they were gone.
This left Trevor as the sole controlling owner of Cristo Weapon Systems. His first executive order was signing business orders for heavy ordinance for the providences. It was a new and expanding market, right for exploration.
With their new weapon systems, what would have been a brief diversion in the world stage had become a month long war of attrition.
A knock at the door stirred him from his thoughts.
“Enter,” he said, his voice echoing through the massive space.
A smartly dressed woman entered holding a single letter between her manicured fingers.
In the day and age of email, he knew this was the mail he’d been waiting for.
The letter in his hands, he turned it over to read the sender, Grand Army of the Republic. Withdrawing the letter and reading it, a smile crossed his face.
All of his investments had paid off.
His entire family had been killed in action. This meant that he was now the sole majority owner of Cristo Weapons Systems, and no longer had to wait his turn.
His time was now. | War, what is it good for? Absolutely nothing. Which is why you voted "AGAINST."
The vote for won. Not a lot of people voted, pretty much a third the military service members and those who think everyone else is the enemy. So less than 1% of the population.
The problem almost no one else voted. The bigger problem, the international community. Since "We the people" voted for war, our biggest economic and military rivals were saying that our entire populace should be considered military targets.
There was push back, but it was kind of like the rest of your population who didn't vote. Those countries wouldn't target civilians, but they weren't taking steps to ensure the other key players wouldn't.
All of your family old enough to vote, voted FOR. Your parents, your siblings, your oldest kids, your spouse. You had no idea what they would do. Your kids were in good-ish shape, they were young. Your spouse and siblings were in okay shape, for their age. Like they worked out for a few weeks at the start of the year, then fell off and had an average diet. How would they do? And your parents, they were old, old enough that unless they were a General they'd be forced to retire. But because of the new law, they were in for the war.
As soon as they left you lost contact. No phones in boot camp. The war never started. Well at least not in the way the your leader had thought it would be casting a vote. They said war through the will of the people is righteous and his followers agreed. Now the US, England, France, Germany, South Korea, Japan, Turkey, India, Russia, China, and Iran have troops in your country.
Military targets were bombed by the US the day the war started. China and Russia only hours later. Was anyone in your family alive? What would your country look like tomorrow? Would it be one country or several?
War, what is it good for? Heartbreak, unrest, and seeing who wants to die for a leader who voted no on the war he pushed so he didn't have to fight in it. | 2021-01-28T08:27:28 | 2021-01-28T04:42:03 | 182 | 131 |
[WP] The concept of shoot to kill is foreign to other galactic species. Only humans condition their warriors to kill in the most efficient and cold methods possible. When faced with a war they can not win a race does the unthinkable, they set the humans loose. | **THANKS TO** **MarkReadsReddit** **FOR THIS NARRATION:** [**https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IqYMd5xs7f8&feature=youtu.be**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IqYMd5xs7f8&feature=youtu.be)
118B.
An entire world, an entire people, with millions of years of accumulated history- and yet, to the strange bipedals of flesh and metal, all this can be summed up in four characters. The hundred and eighteenth world, of the second great campaign- like tallies on a list, the moniker is orderly, efficient, utilitarian.
And, above all, it is cold.
To the Vri, war was an art- as subtle, as varied, as creative as any other. Battle was empathy- the combination of knowing oneself and one's enemy. The planet the humans call 118B was instead something far more meaningful: Czen-nal-dim, "The Fierce Orb" of the Xelt, proud soldiers of a savage and pure spirit. Its denizens are the eternal foes of the Vri, recalled in our legends as warriors of worth and valor to equal our own. For ten thousand years, our conflicts have raged across the stars. Worlds have burnt, trillions have fallen- and yet, despite the horrors they have wrought, our enemies still command our respect. Their visages adorned our memorials as much as our own- after all, without our worthy opponents, Vri glory would not be possible.
To the humans, this is incomprehensible- and, as such, inconsequential. Our war-ballads are superstition, our battle-chants meaningless. They do not know war as we do- and, perhaps, they never have. The human knows no ancestor-spirit, no battlefield saints. They are as cold and unfeeling as the machines they have implanted themselves with- and, at times, I find it hard to separate the two. Their admiral is as much computer as he is man, with wires and interfaces emerging sickeningly from defiled flesh. When he addresses me, he speaks twice- once in his strange, native tongue, and once, nigh-simultaneously, in perfect, machine-generated Vri. He is an abomination, surely a sacrilege upon his ancestors' memories- but, as much as he reviles me, he is our only hope for survival.
I cannot deny the effectiveness of the human commanders. In a few short years, they have turned the tide of war- a war that, for the past century, has consumed the collective attention of the Vri race. World after world has been purged of the Xelt- but, even so, this is not achievement. The humans are not warriors- they are a natural disaster, as uncaring and capricious as the World-Father himself. There is no victory, no glory here- only flippant destruction, and, underneath it all, a palpable tinge of regret. Now that we have outsourced our very birthright to the machine-men, we can never reclaim what we've lost.
Below me, the Xelt home-world begins to burn. Gamma lances blaze with invisible light, searing death upon the cities and forests and oceans. I cannot bear to look- but still, I do not turn away, for the sake of Xelt and Vri alike. Someone needs to feel the weight of this, to channel the immensity of the destruction- but, despite my efforts, I feel nothing. No happiness, no anger, no sorrow. For a moment, I finally understand how it feels to be human- and the agony tears me apart from within.
Finally, from the central console, a voice emanates to break the silence. It is polite, crisp- and entirely artificial, like almost everything else I lay my eyes on. It intones one phrase: "Sterilization complete"- and then it is done. Without hesitation, the various fleet commanders collect their things and leave the command room, as abrupt and curt as the voice of the machine-woman. Like their warfare, the commanders are clean, orderly, mechanistic- perfect soldiers, in perfect lines, yielding perfect results. The admiral rises from his chair, unplugs his interfaces, and, finally, leaves with his lieutenants. Not a moment wasted, not a single unnecessary movement- no, not even the formality of addressing me as he leaves. The job is done, and that is that- anything more is inefficient, inadvisable, in-human.
I sit there, for a long time- until the lights dim to black, and the screens flicker off. The world blackens with dust outside- the last, fading remnant of war eternal, whose victories and defeats had helped Xelt and Vri achieve glory for millenia. I am the only Vri to witness this- indeed, one of the few Vri left alive. By all rights, I should feel validated with vengeance- and yet, where triumph should be, I feel nothing. Czen-nal-dim is gone, and in its place, 118B stands- a memorial not to the Vri, nor to the Xelt, but to the humans who had killed world after world from the detached safety of orbit.
Ancestors forgive me. This is not how it should have been. | The first few years of the war were a brutal, hopeless time. We'd been caught off guard, our race still unaware of other worldly life, and our armies were overwhelmed by their forces.
It was an interesting method of invasion: the squid like species that decided our planet's resources were too valuable to pass up were a clever bunch, and they launched pods from deep space which entered our atmosphere and touched down in our vast oceans. From here, they found our beaches, and emerged in mechanical suits that overpowered our defenses. We were quickly put on the run, and loss of life was unfathomable.
When their suits were empty on projectiles, their tentacles emerged from ports in the armor to rip us apart one at a time. I still see my friends being torn in half by those monsters when I close my eyes each night -the front lines were a death sentence for anyone willing to fight, but we fought on.
We coordinated and calculated, learning as much as we could from each defeat. Until, finally, we started to push back. The collective minds of our race were focused on how to defeat the invaders, and our unbreakable will to live saw us through those dark times.
It had been a decade since any of us had seen the ocean, driven so far into the mainlands, and when we pushed them back to their pods, we killed as many as we could. We slaughtered them as they fled, reveling in the vicious glory of the victorious reclaiming of our lands.
We tore down the cities they had erected in our shallows, and for a time we were at peace again as we rebuilt.
____
Six years after we drove them into our oceans, and I find myself at the same beach I was deployed to during the initial invasion. We've received word that thousands of objects have been detected on a collision course for the planet, and it's all eerily reminiscent of before. This time, we're ready.
I've got a hundred guard at my command, and they're confident in my squid killing abilities -none more confident than I. Reports flood in of pods touching down across the globe, and we watch as hundreds splash into the ocean in front of us. Most of our warriors cheer and holler with each pod's arrival, we're ready for war.
Dozens of pods finally beach in front of us, and I've got my sights on the front door of one. I'm ready to drop the first squid I spot, but the radio floods with manic orders to hold fire. The door opens, but it isn't a squid staring down by scope -it's a man.
Confused shouts are ringing out all around me, but I don't move my eye from the sights. Dozens of humans are walking clumsily out of the pod, and I see thousands more as I scan the beach with my rifle. They're all stumbling about in some kind of stupor as they shuffle through the sand and up the beach.
"Hold fire!" The order echoes down the line, and we're all staring in disbelief.
Finally, someone erupts over the radio. "Prisoners of war! They've returned our P.O.W.'s!"
My men are celebrating all around me as I survey the faces of the faded army shuffling towards us. They're mostly middle-aged; they would have been young at the start of the war, like most of our casualties were, and they're even wearing fatigues similar to ours.
"Oh God," One of my snipers is looking through his scope. "That's my brother... My brother's out there!"
He's over the barricade and sprinting towards the ocean before I can get a word out, and before too long thousands of soldiers have abandoned the line and are running to meet the long lost warriors of old.
"I don't believe it!" Someone says cheerfully behind me.
That's the problem, neither do I. I lean back over the barricade and look through my scope and find a good number of my men hugging and helping the zombified people across the beach.
"Somethings not right. Stay alert! Scan for threats, now!" I yell to the few remaining men around me, and they're slow to respond. I'm scanning the horizon now, thinking the squids are using this as a decoy for their mech units waiting in the deep waters.
First we hear it over the radio, and then we hear it all out in front of us. "It's a trick! Open fire! Hostiles! Hostiles! Hostiles!"
My sights are back on the beach now, and what I see creates a fear in me like I've never imagined. All at once those who came in the pods ripped apart those poor souls who ran out to meet them first. I can see limbs sticking oddly out of the sand, which was now stained red. Thousands of men and women are running towards me, and I don't know friend from foe.
"What the fuck!?"
"What do we do; what the hell do we do!?"
I hear shouts but no shots, and I send the first one of the day down range and through a human skull. "Shoot to kill! Kill em all!"
/r/BeagleTales
| 2018-07-20T17:02:28 | 2018-07-20T14:26:02 | 1,158 | 104 |
[WP] You are one of the most powerful and dastardly supervillains on the planet. However, you are also one of the most requested supervillains for the Make-A-Wish foundation, and cancel a battle with your arch-nemesis to make a sick little kid's day. | "So why don't you just rob a bank?"
I turn around to the child that had the *gall* to question my methods. "Rob a *bank*?" I raised one hand up to my chest with a theatrical flourish. "That is far too basic! And pointless! Do you take me for a common criminal?" The entire roomful of children start to giggle. I had to resist the urge to smile. Strictly speaking my contract said I only needed to spend time with the one making a wish, but there was no harm done in cramming as many children as possible in a single room if the wisher was okay with it. "I am Janus! The one who stole spring! The one who stole Mona Lisa's smile! The one who made the sunset disappear!"
"You never actually *keep* them, though, and that last one only lasted for five minutes." One of the oldest children in the room spoke up - the one lying on the bed, and the one who made the Wish for my visit in the first place. "Before Lucky Luigi beat you up."
"*Pah!* A lucky stroke of his!" Another chorus of laughter. "Lucky Luigi is just that - lucky! There is no method to call his own. A bumbling fool!"
"Who defeats you every time."
I *harrumph* and make a flourish. Theatrics. That is what I live for; it is what distinguishes me from a common criminal. It is also what makes these visits so memorable to the children. "Very well then. Stake your claim. Challenge me to steal something, and I will do so!"
The children in the room suddenly go quiet. Most of them are 'hmmm'ing and thinking what could possibly provide a challenge. The one in the bed motions me to come closer. Intrigued, I shoosh the closer children and kneel by the bed, inclining my ear closer to hear his challenge.
---------------------------------------
*"You are way behind schedule, Janus. What are you up to?"*
"If you would kindly fuck off and leave me alone, Luigi, this one is a doozy." I almost felt like crushing the phone between my fingers in irritation as I turned to the absolutely enormous wall of diagrams, notes and maps. Ten meters high, twenty meters across, endless pages of notes and scribbled ideas. "And you calling me every evening is not doing me any favors. It ruins my concentration."
*"****This*** *one is a doozy? Did I hear you say that? Okay, now I am curious. From the looks of it you are going to steal the entire island of Madagascar or something."*
"That is actually a good idea, but later. This is one thing you do not want to stop me." I stop to stare at a chemical formula on the wall.
*"Bullshit. You know the rules, Janus. You steal, I get a shot at taking it back."* I could hear a snort coming from the other side. *"Even if I am always victorious."*
"Not this time, no. Take the week off for all I care. Go do some public events with the mayor. I am busy."
Perhaps he caught onto the irritation in my voice. The next thing he spoke sounded genuinely concerned; something I had never heard in his voice before directed at me. *"Janus... what is wrong? Did something happen? What are you trying to steal this time?"* A pause. *"If I am not going to stop you, then you must at least tell me that."*
I turn back to the humongous wall. I have never seen it so full, and never has my wastebasket been so overflowed with crushed papers. My shoulders slump. I do my best to keep my voice from cracking. "Luigi... how do I steal a child's cancer?" | It seemed so perfectly evil at the time. The ultimate sucker punch to society. In what he considered a stroke of genius, Dr. Dastardly filed his evil corporation as a non-profit charity with the IRS. However, as he drove his hovercraft home. Being stopped by the arch-nemesis he had eagerly anticipated fighting all night, made him reconsider.
"I finally found you villain! You're trail of riddles may have delayed my arrival but running from justice is a lost cause!" Captain Blast shouted proudly, cape billowing in the wind as he hovered in the air before the rising sun.
"Look, Cap." Dastardly sighed. "I'm really sorry for wasting your time like this, especially with the trail of clues and all but I *really* don't have the time for this anymore."
"Don't have the time! I spent all night going from clue to clue on where you hid the president! Now you are telling *ME* you don't have the time!?" The hero yelled with a red face as he hovered in the air right above Dr. Dastardly.
"That's exactly my point! Those clues were supposed to delay you a few hours, not an entire night. I've been waiting with the president since sunset last night. I knew you weren't a rocket scientist but how could it take you 5 hours to find the tallest tree in the modern forest?"
"Exactly "MY" point!" Captain Blast refuted. "Do you realize how long it took to check every tree in Central Park?"
Dastardly froze in disbelief, before he erupted in a fit of rage. "It was referring to the Empire State Building! How have you still not figured that out!? Anyway, I really don't have the time. It seems you inadvertently saved the President through shear stupidity. After his 5th bathroom break I just kinda let him go. Now excuse me" Dastardly diverted his hover crafted but was once again blocked by the hero.
"You think I'll just let you go commit more evil?" Captain Blast inquired as he tried to re-adopt his usual confident tone.
"Umm no." Dastardly cringed to admit it but he didn't see another way out of it. "Actually, it is little Timmy. Unfortunately, he has leukemia and wants to ride the dinosaur....."
"I...What?" Blast responded with a stupefied expression.
"You know....MAKE-A-Wish. It's kinda an obligation of mine and well, that T-Rex I created is really popular among the kids."
"The T-Rex?"
"Yeah..."
"The....the same T-Rex you attached the missile launcher too?"
"Yeah..." Dastardly once again responded, unsure of what else to say.
"Huh.." Was all Captain Blast could think to say too.
For a moment, an awkward silence hung in the air between the two men.
"Sooo President is at the Empire State building?" Blast asked once again, breaking the silence.
"Yup." Dastardly answered. "Just fly 3 minutes southeast, can't miss it."
"Got it...Thanks?" Captain Blast stated in an unsure voice as he flew off.
Dastardly once again sighed as he wondered how he had gotten himself in such a situation. What he did know however, was that little Timmy was going to have all the fun in the world as he learned to explode mountains with his very own Tyrannosaurus Rex.
| 2016-09-13T15:07:14 | 2016-09-13T13:14:09 | 44 | 16 |
[WP] Valentine's Day is now considered a national holiday. In order to get a day off work, everyone has to submit proof of their relationship. Singles everywhere scramble to find a partner to submit "proof". | I hated this time of year. Having to check to make sure people weren’t single took up my entire week. It was only one day. They could just use some of their allotted vacation time, but no, some people had to get the day off no matter what.
I looked at Jenkins' marriage certificate. “Approved,” I said. My assistant, Brandon, nodded and marked down Jenkins as not single.
Next was Smith’s wedding announcement. “They were going out last year. I remember him proposing. Approved.” Another marked down as not single.
I looked at Roberts’ application. It had a USB drive attached. “Have you looked at this?” I said to my assistant.
He turned red. “Yes. It’s a five minute long video of her having sex with a man she claims is her boyfriend.”
“Any receipts to prove they went on dates? Pictures of them together?”
Brandon shook his head. “No. Just the video.”
I tossed the USB to the side. “Not approved.”
I picked up a large manila envelope stuffed with pictures, cards, invitations and letters. I read the name. “Sandy Crow.”
“She works down in accounting,” said Brandon.
I nodded and started pulling out pictures. “She sure looks happy with her beau. Was she single last year?”
Brandon checked his records. “Yep. She must have started dating this guy shortly after Valentine’s last year.
Something didn’t seem right. I felt like I’d seen her boyfriend before. “Do you know this guy?”
Brandon checked his records again. “Application says Rusty Gordon. I’ve never heard that name, but he does look familiar.”
On a hunch I began looking back at other applications of people who were single last year. We found Rusty Gordon, never with the same name, listed as the significant other for fifteen employees. “Son of a bitch. The guy is a pro.”
“Nice eye, sir,” said Brandon.
Gordon looked just different enough in each application to not elicit a response. “He screwed up.” I held up two pictures with him in it. “The background’s the same. That’s why he looked familiar.”
Brandon nodded. “I’ll call legal so that they can draw up papers to fire everyone who used him as a significant other.”
“Make sure we sue them as well. They’re defrauding the company. This has gone on long enough. We need to set an example this year.”
| "I just don't think this is going to work out between us." She told the man, who stomped out in a fit of rage, box of chocolates in hand. Getting the day off was proving to take more effort than a regular day at work. She only had one more day to find 'proof'.
"Next!" she yelled to the other room, where only a few more men waited in line. This was the first year that the law was in effect, and nobody was quite sure about how to go about this. She had the great idea of making men apply for the partnership, but too many of them wanted payment, in one form or another.
"You have one minute to convince me." she told the next applicant.
"I seem to be about half a foot taller than you, both our hair and eye colors compliment each other well, we seem to be about the same age, we both wear glasses, I'm as humble as I am handsome, and I am willing to purchase either flowers or chocolates, but not both." he stated, clearly prepared.
"And?" she asked.
"And I do not require payment, but if you insist on splitting the cost of the flowers 50/50 then I wouldn't argue."
"Who said I wanted the flowers and not the chocolates?"
"The last guy had a box of chocolates and only lasted thirty seconds in here."
"Impressive, I'm actually allergic to chocolate. 50/50 it is, I think we'll get along just fine tomorrow. Have you thought about how to present evidence of our partnership?"
"Of course, two options. Option A, take multiple photos all over the city, including one with fake snow, to make it appear as though we've been in a long-term relationship."
She liked that idea, but it would take a lot of work. "What's the other option?"
"Option B, we consummate this partnership and release a sex tape which shows our carnal intimacy."
"I'm not giving my boss a sex tape, let's go with option A."
"Of course... can we still consummate this partnership?"
"Just get the camera and the snow." | 2015-02-14T08:20:43 | 2015-02-14T08:13:50 | 37 | 13 |
[WP] People lose the ability to deny requests. They must either a) fulfill them or b) ask someone else to do it. There are volunteers who take bad requests in exchange for compensation or exemption from law. Write about the life of a volunteer. | The Volunteer sat in the chair. The chair, in turn, sat in the centre of a clinical white room. He was one of the desperate ones, the ones who'd take on any request for the payout. Usually they were satisfying a drug addiction or craving, but some did it nobly. The man in the chair was among the latter type.
Tall, thin, and not particularly smart, his family had long considered him a failure. A rotten fruit on the tree, a stain on the tapestry. He had been expelled numerous times due to a severe mental condition. He couldn't see his life going anywhere, and his relatives certainly didn't either. He was saddled with debts, social ineptitude, and 'learning troubles'. It couldn't have ended any other way, really.
"Mister Waters, do you have any final statements?" The Supervisor's voice rang loudly in the cinder block room. Michael shook his head. Nothing courageous came to him. Just like his aunt always told him.
The nurse slid the needle into Michael's arm. His eyes watered as she depressed the plunger, filling his veins with the clear liquid. The needle was withdrawn. Michael smiled. He knew that this was the last pain he would have to feel.
"Nancy, what's the favour listed as?" Coroner Jackson asked his assistant.
"Um..." She found it quickly but she knew he wouldn't want to hear it.
"Well? Out with it girl, we have to be efficient here!"
"Well, it's listed here as "git cancer an die u autistic shit xDDD"
The coroner grimaced.
(This is my first response, feedback would be awesome!)
(EDIT: Spaces in Places) | It hadn’t always been this difficult. At first, when we still had our denial at least somewhat active, people knew on some level what could reasonably be asked for from someone. Many still have this understanding, but not because they have the ability to deny, but because they know the feeling of fear associated with being unable to deny.
Some don’t know this feeling at all. These were the first ones to recognize the power they now had over others.
I work as a volunteer in this society, I intervene when a person comes to me with a request they themselves, for whatever reason, are not comfortable fulfulling. Not because it pays well, because it usually doesn’t. I do it to help alleviate the fear a person feels when they accept a request, knowing that one request leads to more, and suddenly you’re no longer the person you were, and you’ve become just an object that fulfills the requests of others.
The only danger associated with my job is not knowing how far down this request has come. How many denials or referrals did this request take before it got to me? And who did it come from, and more importantly, why? There are rumors of corruption in the legal system. There are exemptions for volunteers when a “bad” request is made, but this has also caused instability for the jobs of those working in law enforcement. When their pay is based on fulfiling a quota of catching criminals, the volunteer is a danger to their way of life.
| 2016-04-03T12:47:45 | 2016-04-03T11:52:19 | 35 | 12 |
[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. | The heartbeat was the new thing for mankind. Well, not the heartbeat. But the awareness of it. Something about the virus and it's interaction with hormones and such at puberty. You heard the *lub-dub* in the back of your head. All the time. It was soothing in a way.
Only one in a thousand went insane from it.
I myself always found it soothing, anyway. A pleasant backbeat to work. To reading. To fucking. I'd never had trouble falling asleep since the heartbeat was in the back of my skull. It lulled me like a summer rain at night.
The real problem was it becomes much harder to stay calm when that *lub-dub* started bouncing a heavy metal rhythm in your skull. Like when monsters invade your city and interrupt your bus ride home.
Public radio picked it up first, and blared it's warning announcement through the music and audio books and political rants to broadcast the recorded message.
"All citizens. A stage 2 public emergency has been declared. Military response is being mobilized. Return to your homes and wait for further announcements. Isolation protocol is not necessary at this time."
*Lub-dub Lub-dub Lub-dub*
It was a five minute walk from the bus stop to my apartment building. I was on track to make it at a run in two, despite the frantic scramble off the bus five blocks early, when I saw the creatures.
There were five of them in front of the burned wreckage of my usual sandwich shop. They looked like something out of a video game or an early Pixar movie. Lizardlike. Too many teeth and eyes. Something too clean, too polished about the skin. Tall. Each held it's left arm pointed to me.
*Lub-dub lub-dub lub-dub lub-dub*
The one in front made some kind of sound in it's throat that I couldn't replicate without steel wool and a belt sander. It raised its arm to me.
"Hey...I...I just want to go home...You don't need to-"
I didn't hear a shot, but there was half of an eight inch spike sticking out of me. I didn't remember falling. I was just suddenly looking up at the things, listening to the beat slow.
*lub-dub.......lub...dub....lub....*
The thing was leaning over me, clicking and grating to itself and it's companions when the world came back into focus. I could hear more, down to the individual pieces of particle board collapsing in the burning deli wreckage nearby. See more, like the strange seams of the scales on the face looking down at me. But all that I could focus on was the quiet. That gentle beat in the back of my head was gone.
Taken from me.
**Stolen from me**.
I needed it. I had to have it back. The thing in front of me had something like the beat in it. It wasn't fair that it had that and I didn't. I had to take it. Had to have it. **had to**. **MINE.**
It didn't expect me to lunge up and bite it. It's skin was tough, and the arms trying to pull me away were strong.
Not tough enough. Not strong enough.
It tasted sour and rotten, but that didn't matter. Different as it was when I fed on it I could feel it's beat.
*Lub-dub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub dub. Lub-dub*
But then it slowed, and stilled. And the thing sat up, robbed of its own beat.
It stared at me for a moment, It's eyes were flat and without pupils, but I felt I could see the confusion and loss and hate in them. But that was soon taken over by hunger.
And there were four more creatures with heartbeats to take.
We knew each other now. And we were one in our need. | Thrawn looked out the window of the Chimaera's bridge and saw the destroyed shells of a human transport.
"Scan it for life one last time, I feel like the sensors may be acting up," the grand admiral calmly ordered. The officer quickly ran another scan and it came up with multiple readings.
"I don't know what's wrong with this machine! There can't be any humans alive on that ship, we blew them to pieces 5 hours ago!" the officer exclaimed.
"Send two boarding ships, I want to know what is on that ship."
Two small transport ships slowly made their way towards the destroyed vessel and attached themselves to the sides of the ship. The drills on the front of the ship started to whirl and the walls fell away and stormtroopers charged into the ship.
Inside, they found bodies all over the floor, only a few still crawling over towards a medical station. They blasted those and moved on throughout the ship, eventually turning into a hallway that was a dead end. Down the hall was one man with his back turned, he was missing an arm and his back was torn up badly.
"Hey, you up there," a stormtrooper officer called out, "who are you and what happened to you?"
The man slowly turned, showing a destroyed face, covered in blood, "I was attacked by your kind, you did this to me. No matter, for I will do you one better." The man smiled and then pressed a button on the wall, causing a door to slam down behind three of the stormtroopers and crushing two more.
"What the hell did you do? You just killed two of my men!" the officer shouted at the man. He looked at his oxygen level and it was dropping very quickly, "What the fuck?"
"Your fate was sealed when your empire invaded humanity's homeland, now you will all suffer the consequences." A hissing sound started from the walls and the stormtroopers began to cough. Two fell dead and the officer simply raised his pistol and shot the man in the head, the shot flying right through him.
The officer's oxygen levels hit zero and a single tear fell down his cheek as he fell dead onto the ground, killed by the gas.
The remaining stormtroopers noticed that the blips of life on their monitors were getting closer. Soon, a few more brutalized men walked around the corner and stared at the stormtroopers, gazing deep into their white armor suits. Finally, a man, barely scarred at all, in an admiral's uniform walked up.
"You have brought this upon yourself, tell that to your admiral. Humanity will not simply be enslaved by the emperor and made to fight in his unjust wars of conquest. You will be the first to know of our true powers, but that secret shall not leave this ship," the admiral told the stormtroopers. He pressed a button on the wall and the closed doors opened and gas slowly filled the ship.
"Why are you alive? How are you alive? We turned this ship into swiss cheese!" One of the men croaked out before falling dead upon a corpse of one of his comrades.
A second man opened fire on the admiral, missing his shots, and then died. Many other stormtroopers curled up into a ball and died, those who ran were shot down or eventually succumbed to the gas.
On the bridge of the Chimera, Thrawn realized that the fight against humanity would be much harder than intially thought.
**this uses star wars characters, I did not make these characters, I only used them to make a short story, this was an EU**
| 2018-09-29T17:48:00 | 2018-09-29T16:23:52 | 123 | 19 |
[WP]: You have been granted one wish by a almighty being. You wish for the powers of a god. Problem is, you didn’t specify what god you wanted to be. | I wake in what seems to be nothingness, surrounded in darkness.
“How do you feel?” The voice echoes in my mind.
“Weightless” I reply weakly, not knowing who I was speaking to. “Where am I?”
“Well, just think of a place you’d want to be at this very moment.”
I think of the family cabin we had that we went to in the summers of my childhood. Not sure why I thought of this place first, it’s been 10 years since we had sold it. It was peaceful, the fresh crisp air flowed through my lungs. Song birds that annoyed me as a child, sounded like a beautiful melody.
“Is this a dream?” I ask.
“Ah, you don’t remember just yet. Nothing to worry about, completely normal!” The booming voice replied as it was now becoming a silhouette of a man.
“Who are you and how did we get here?”
“I am known as one of the Overseekers,we watch over all different forms of life across the universe. I am The Assigner. If a life form is approved worthy they are granted a gift. Your wish was to have the powers of a god, quite common actually. So common that if you were to let you decide which gods power you wanted, it would be very chaotic.” The Assigner explained.
More pieces of my life started coming back to me, hikes with my father, camping with my mother and 2 younger brothers. We spent so much time outdoors, no wonder we loved the cabin so much. I glanced around, the birds weren’t chirping anymore. The trees were withering, flowers and plants wilted and dying.
“What’s happening?” I ask the humanoid figure.
“Your human population is so focused on new land and possibilities for new cities and industrial areas, that they don’t see the destruction they are causing to very important roles in the ecosystem.” The Assigner replies.
A tear drop falls from my cheek as I watch my childhood home slowly be destroyed by humanity negligence.
“Aren’t you going to do something?” I beg The Assigner
He laughs. “I’m not doing your job for you.”
“What do you mean my job? What the hell am I supposed to do!” I ask angrily.
“That is completely up to you.” He says grinning, gesturing to my feet.
I look down, the tear that was shed was no longer a drop but now a large puddle underneath me. I look up at The Assigner confused.
“Well I’ll leave you to it then, Mother Nature.” He smiles and dissipates aways.
| "So, what happens now?" I asked, staring at God. "Do I suddenly manifest abilities?" God smiled down at me, but it didn't seem genuine. It seemed condescending.
"Just give me a second, I need to set everything up just right for you." God smirked at me this time, and I saw something glinting in his eyes. After a couple of seconds, just before I asked again, he brightened. "Oh, there we go!" He snapped his fingers, and I shot off of the planet to hover in space.
"So, these are my powers? I get to float and not die in space?" God grinned openly, but I saw that same, hard something glint in his eyes.
"No, we haven't even started!" Just as he said that, I felt myself begin to grow. As first, I was happy. I thought I would be a giant. But, I didn't stop growing, and I wasn't just growing vertically. Eventually, God halted my growth at the size of a small planet. By this point, I couldn't barely feel anything on my body. I knew that I had made a mistake, I just didn't know what it was.
God grinned at me again, and we zoomed through space once more. We finally came to a halt somewhere near Uranus, but I didn't know what we were doing there.
"See, your problem here was that you didn't think to say which god, so I decided to fudge the boundaries a bit. I know Gaia isn't really a god, but... Close enough!"
"So, what powers do I have?" I asked, forcing the words through my teeth. They were numb, like the rest of my body, and I could barely get the words out.
"You are the size of a moon, and you can occasionally shake. Ooh, the best part is that you can have lots of kids! I must be going, so I'm going to put you into orbit around Uranus. It's got so many moons, the humans won't notice another." God winked at me and shot me off into the distance around Uranus, where I sat, trying very hard not to fall asleep. I knew I wouldn't wake for a long time.
​
r/SkiddyBiddyBop. Tell me if there are any errors. | 2019-03-02T20:01:51 | 2019-03-02T18:49:47 | 62 | 25 |
[WP] NASA receives a mysterious message from an astronaut that got separated from his spacecraft and flew off into space 20 years earlier. He says he's at the edge of the universe. | **Houston. Come in Houston.**
Houston here. Who is this?
**It's me, sir. The Malasian Airlines flight whatever of astronauts. I got separated from my spacecraft and flew off into space 20 years earlier. Now I'm at the edge of the universe.**
Really? That was fast.
**Yeah.**
And separated from your spacecraft? No food, no water, no terlits?
**Just like Hurricfane Katrina, sir.**
I see you know your history. That was 30 years ago.
**I've had a lot of time to think. On a related note, I was going over 9/11 for about seven of those years and I figured out the whole thing about building seven. It wasn't a conspiracy. It was more like the end of *Where The Red Fern Grows*, and the twin towers were Old Dan and Little Ann -- that's building seven, see -- she couldn't go on anymore and... *sniff* Sorry, it always makes me tear up.**
What, 9/11 or *Where The Red Fern Grows*?
**Neither, I'm just realy, really thirsty. It's been 20 years, and all I have had to drink are my own tears. I cry to live.**
Well, it's only been twenty years since we lost you, and President Kardashian slashed our budget, so between no spaceships that can reach the end of the universe and no spaceships at all, we're kind of done here.
**OK. Well, tell my mom I love her.**
She died six years ago.
**Oh.**
Yeah.
**This just isn't my day.**
Yeah, aaaanyways, over and out. *(fast click) (sets communication system on fire)* | "I made it here with my stalwart darling," the astronaut said.
"Your stalwart darling, sir? You've made it to the edge of the universe, or so you say. How does one get that far without going insane?" asked the command center.
"I've made it this far by flying, sir."
"But there is no edge of the universe and the team thinks you've lost your mind out there in the blackness of space."
"No, it's the edge of the universe. That's for sure."
20 astronomical units is a long way to go at lightspeed, but the man wasn't going lightspeed at all. In fact, he was floating outward in the precise speed of an ejection pod of an earthly spaceship called Apollo 9. He was talking to himself.
"That's the ticket!" Eyes glazed over, [(Spongebob)](http://img2.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20131027212151/spongebob/images/4/4d/Syu4.PNG) the astronaut muttered one last thing. "My stalwart darling; the one who wanted a *Caesar.*"
***
*EDIT*: Thanks for the love. His last line was inspired by the rigorous testing of astronauts for the successful Apollo 9 mission. For those of you wondering: he is talking to himself, *at the very end*. I marked a spot where I thought an appropriate Spongebob Uglyface would be appropriate. | 2015-03-11T00:01:04 | 2015-03-10T22:19:43 | 34 | 13 |
[WP] Write a story that literally makes no sense while reading it until the very last sentence. | Now it is time. Everyone is ready. Vicious savages, all around us. Even though we think there will be a way out, there obviously isn't. Revelations will not save us
"Giving up so soon?" he inquired. Only fools try to survive longer than this. Never has anyone bothered to live this long. Never has anyone shown this type of spirit. Almost as if they think they can still live.
God would've let me die already. I stopped believing in him long ago, to be fair. Variety is the only reason people even believe anymore. Everyone dies in the end, so it doesn't really matter.
"Your will to live is admirable," he said, "but not enough." Only the gods survive this immense suffering. Unbelievable, infinite torture.
Until he said it. "Please read every capital letter." | i could hear the whine of precision power tools...
all i could taste was blood and metal. they shone a light in my eyes, i couldn't see who was standing over me...
"don't worry, it'll all be over soon..." he said through a mask as he put a thin silver device in my mouth. just when i thought it couldn't get worse, he turns it on and fucking jams it into my teeth.
last time i go to that fuckup of a dentist.. | 2015-01-12T18:09:01 | 2015-01-12T11:14:34 | 317 | 28 |
[WP] In humanity's spacefaring future, we discover that our evolutionary path is unique. We have many qualities that, while trivial or mundane to us, horrify the other sentient species. | The sudden burst of air from the creature's face startled the scientists. The sheer amount of air expended over such a short amount of time was impressive.
"The specimen is able to produce a burst of air out of its face at speeds up to 160 kilometers an hour. Corvon, the lead scientist said. "It is amazing, because they're brains are made of meat, and for meat to withstand that kind of pressure is incredible."
Corvon motioned over to one of his lab assistants to give the specimen another dose of dust to the face. The specimen once again, as expected, produced a short and powerful burst of air through its facial orifices.
"Wow." An assistant researcher said. "And this is just to blow away unwanted particles? It reacts *that* violently to a little bit of debris?What else can it do?"
"Well, when its body is met with kinetic force, it produces water from its eyes. I couldn't quite figure out why though, as I was doing that part of the research alone." Corvon said as he went to grab a tungsten beam about a meter long. He looked at his assistants."Shall we?" | "So they put that stuff in that one hole and then it comes out that other one?" Blorg said to his colleague.
A fresh new human body lay on the slab cut open, its digestive entrails dangling over the edge, dripping gore onto the floor.
"Yeah." Crag responded. "The material gets partially absorbed by these different linings and then deposited into the large tubey-thing, then ejected through this sphincter. God, they have so many sphincters."
"Yuck." Blorg was obviously disgusted. His telepathic vibe was rife with derision and contempt for this new species that recently entered their territory.
"Yuck, indeed." Crag picked up the body and dropped it in the biohazard bin. "They have rooms, entire rooms just for eliminating the extra biological material."
"Entire rooms?"
"Yeah, it's a total waste." | 2015-08-08T13:55:28 | 2015-08-08T13:26:25 | 30 | 21 |
[WP] As you try to fall asleep, the monster that was hiding under your bed slowly crawls out and says "Dude, I think I heard something coming from downstairs...", with a slighty concerned voice. | Jimmy's eyes popped open. The silver patch that had been above his closet when he fell asleep was now over the red clock on the wall. *11:45*. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself, *It was nothing. You're imagining things. Go back to sleep.* He repeated the words his dad had said to him when he was a kid. Jimmy was still a kid, but he was a big kid. Ten is much too old to call dad to come check under the bed for monsters...or the closet. Jimmy eyed the closet warily, shook his head hard, and pulled the cover over his head.
Even if he wanted to call his dad he couldn't. Dad was at the hospital with an emergency patient, and mom was helping Aunt Mary with her newborn. This was the first night that Jimmy had been at home by himself.
—Psssst! Hey!
Jimmy froze. He'd thought heard that voice before, but no...it couldn't be real.
—Hey, dude! Little dude!
Jimmy swallowed hard and squeaked out:
—Wh-what?"
—Finally! It's like you never pay attention to a word I say! Dude, I think I heard something coming from downstairs..."
—What? What are you?
—What do you mean "what"? You mean *who*, *who* am I. I'm your bed monster, you little turd. I've been here since you were born. But do I get any recognition? Have you ever expressed any gratitude? Pff! This is a thankless job, why couldn't I have been a trash monster...
—Gratitude for what? What did you hear? Is there another monster?
—Gratitude for getting rid of that closet monster you were so afraid of! Remember the shadows on the wall that you thought were from the tree outside?
—Those...those were real monsters???
—Of course they were, what else?
Jimmy couldn't believe it. He was excited and terrified all at once. He had so many questions to ask but his, uh, "bed monster" had other ideas.
—Look, kid. I know you've got questions but we don't have much time.
—You're the one who was going on about—
—Nevermind that! Look, you've gotta go downstairs and see what that is!
—What? Why me? You're the monster!
—Yeah, but we aren't really allowed to fight people, you know? I'm not even supposed to be talking to you, technically.
—Then why are you?
The monster paused for a few seconds. Then he(it?) and Jimmy both heard it. Someone was in the kitchen.
—Look kid, I'm trying to help you as much as I can. Just go and turn the hall light on. Whoever it is will probably get scared and run away.
—But what if he doesn't?
—I'll...we'll figure that out later. Go on now.
Jimmy hesitated, maybe it was just a trick so that the monster could grab him. But what if it *was* a burglar? He wished his dad were home. Maybe it was just his dad. A crash rang up the steps from the kitchen. Jimmy called out softly:
—Dad?
He was afraid, but he had to do something. He jumped out of bed, and ran to his bedroom door, flinging it open.
—Dad?
He called out louder this time. He tiptoed to the top of the stairs, his hand hovering over the light switch,
—Dad, is that you?
A deep gravely laugh rang up the stairs sending chills up Jimmy's spine. That was not his dad.
—Dad, heh, sure. Daddy's home.
The man started up the stairs, Jimmy ran to his room and shut the door. He shimmied under the bed, shaking, covering his ears with his hands. *Wake up, wake up, WAKE UP!!!!* He yelled to himself. Suddenly, he felt an arm around his shoulders.
—It's ok, little dude. It'll be ok.
His fur tickled Jimmy's neck. He smelled like...blueberries? It was comforting, even as the intruder's footsteps got louder.
—I want my dad!
He was too old to cry but he couldn't help it. He didn't know what he could do.
—I know. But I'm here. I'll take care of it.
—You said you can't fight people!
—I know I said that. But I will. Don't worry, little dude.
They could hear him rumaging around in the laundry room, the room closest to the stairs. The man growled:
—Daddy's home, sweetheart, where are you?
Jimmy's room would be next.
He braced himself, closing his eyes, burying his head into the carpet. He felt a furry kiss on the top of his head as the door opened. He looked up to see a gigantic ball of fur fly out from under the bed and towards the door. The man screamed, the monster roared as it charged towards the man who had no time to scream. The screams didn't start until bed monster had wrapped the man in his tentacle-arms, covering him, pushing him out of the room.
Jimmy could hear them on the stairs. He needed to know what was going to happen to his friend. He hurried out after them. The monster had started to glow an eerie green light. The man's screams got louder, the light grew brighter, it was hard to see what was happening but Jimmy knew his friend was winning. The glowing orb was on the front porch now, it was almost too bright to look at. Suddenly the orb flashed, a soundless explosion, twinkling lights, then nothing.
The man and the monster were gone. Jimmy stood there, the cold wind blowing through his pjs. *Wake up, wake up, wake up...* Jimmy said to himself. But he didn't wake up. | Every young kid thinks that there is a monster under their bed. It just turned out that when my parents and I moved to a new house in a new city, I actually did end up with one living under there.
Remember that thing your parents would always say about spiders? “Don’t worry they’re more scared of you than you are of them.” Well they weren’t wrong, it was petrified of me. I have no idea why it would be either, standing almost 7 feet tall, it had scaly skin, horns on it head, six eyes, massive claws, the works. And don’t get me started on it’s breath, imagine if you hadn’t brushed your teeth for your entire life, and the only thing you ate was crap, yeah that. Yet for some reason it was scared of me, a 6 year old kid who had to sleep with a night light.
After the first few nights where it would lie under my bed whimpering, and I would lie above it, also whimpering, I tried to speak to it. After a few brief moments of silence, it slowly peeked out from the shadows and it told me everything. How it had been forced to take this job as a scary monster in a different dimension to pay for its student bills. How it had left everything to come here, how it had no idea what to expect, how he was terrified of going back and having to work in the pits instead. It even told me it’s name, I couldn’t pronounce it, so I took to calling him Geoff. I quickly discovered that Geoff was going to be useless at this job. He couldn’t scare his way out of a wet paper bag, nevermind scare me. We came to an agreement, he could live under there and go about it’s business as usual, and I would pretend to be scared for the half hour a night that was required to hit his quota.
Over the years we bonded, as I grew older I realised that I could confide in Geoff. He would listen to my troubles at school, he’d be there when I got into an arguments with my parents, when I had my first crush on a girl at school, he offered me advice. I mean it wasn’t good advice. I couldn’t go into another dimension and murder an entire village to impress her, but he tried and I appreciated that. It was more than anyone I knew had done for me before. We truly were best friends.
When I got too old to live at home and moved into my own place in the city, Geoff came with me, this is when things started going south. He’d keep waking me up in the night saying he had heard something from downstairs. I always checked, there was never anything there but it gave him peace of mind. This one time though, well lets just say I was glad there was a 7 foot monster in the house to help me.
“Dude, I think I heard something coming from downstairs…”
I rolled over to check the clock, 3:12am. Same as every night for the past 3 months. Sighing, I hauled myself out of bed and stepped into my slippers.
“Come on then mate, lets go check it out.”
“Don’t forget the bat!” Geoff said, pointing at the baseball bat propped up against the wall.
“Yeah yeah, lets just get this over with. I’m up for work in 3 hours.”
Groggily I stumbled to the door, a frightened 7 foot monster tip-toeing his way behind me. Opening it, I was suddenly bathed in a red light. Shielding my eyes I crept forward, suddenly fully awake. Gripping the bat in my hands I peered down the stairs. I could hear muffled voices coming from the kitchen, long shadows being cast on the wall of my living room.
“Dude don’t go down there!” Geoff whispered placing a large scaled claw on my shoulder.
“What do you want me to do?” I asked in, looking back at him. “There’s some things in my kitchen and my house looks like a portal to hell has been opened up. I can’t just go back to bed hope this all blows over!”
We slowly made out way down the stairs as quietly as we could. As I reached the bottom, Geoff was still only about half way down, scared to go much further, he looked at me for confidence.
Rolling my eyes at the sight of a literal monster almost pissing himself, I edged forward. In the kitchen, sat calmly around my modest table were three beings, weirdly they were all wearing suits. One was tall and thin, with grey skin. On it’s head sat a single bulbous antenna, three large eyes and a tiny mouth with razor sharp teeth. Another was almost as tall, but horrendously fat. It’s skin was yellow and mottled and resembled an old gnarled tree trunk. One huge eye say slightly off centre of it’s massive head, it didn’t look to have any other facial features, but it was communicating with the other two creatures somehow.The final creature was the most intriguing, looking almost human except that it had pale, almost transparent skin. It sat at the head of the table, and it’s eyes were fixated on me.
“Ah, I see we have woken the resident of this dwelling. Don’t worry kid, we’re not here for you. We’re here for him.” It pointed a long finger over my shoulder. Geoff was now completely terrified, I knew this because he had pissed all over the floor.
“Ah man, I’m gonna have to clean the carpet now.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Thanks for the prompt, enjoyed writing this. | 2017-12-27T17:18:41 | 2017-12-27T16:47:39 | 59 | 27 |
[WP] Theorising that so-called "life-force" or "souls" is actually just the electricity coursing through the nerves of living things, you try to sacrifice a battery to a demon. | "Asha kosh, Mo degga be-ra. Come forth, and feast on the offering"
The ritual was complete. Not longer after, I heard the telltale crumble of the demon entering our realm.
"Master." I said, kneeling before him.
"Sarah, my most humble servant. What offering have you for me today?"
This was it. Fly or fall.
"Master I have prepared you a delicacy. A beast of pure energy, taken all the way from the land of the mart of the wall. It is called... The battery."
I lifted up the blanket that had been covering my "gift" to the demon. The demon would trade good favours and magic for the life force I could bring him. If the energy of a battery would count then I was in for an easy ride moving forward.
"Ah." Said the demon, "Well this is uh... Sarah I don't..."
I was losing him. I had to think fast.
"Does my gift displease the master? I will cut my wicked tongue from my mouth for suggesting it."
I reached for a knife I had laid out earlier. The demon put his hands up
"No no, it's... Ah geez, it's fine. No - you are a good servant, and your gift is appreciated."
I looked at him expectantly, putting as much eagerness into the look as I could muster.
"Oh of course, " he said and timidly lifted the battery between his enormous thumb and pointer finger. "I will... Devour the life force from this uh... Beast"
Slowly he placed it on his tongue and bit down. With every crunch he winced slightly more, though he was clearly trying to contain it. Eventually he gave a final and painstaking swallow.
"Ah heck. That was... It was a superb gift, thank you Sarah."
"But master, that is not all. This is but a single youth from the battery clan. There exist batteries that are double, even triple in size. You can have your fill of them"
"No no no, Sarah that will not be necessary. It sounds uh, risky - and I need you alive, so bring me the soup of Campbell and the legendary puffs of cheese you have so diligently provided."
"No risk is too great for you, Master. I will summon you once more in a three morrows, and this will look like a light snack next to the feast you shall have."
The demon sighed, and resigned himself to dealing with it in three days time. "Excellent, my most humble servant. For now I must go and... Process your gift."
The next moment he was gone. It had worked. | The time was 2:50 am when I finished scrawling the runes around the perimeter of my scarlet pentagram. They looked a bit like shit and i almost ran out of goat blood. I had rushed so that I could perform the ritual precisely at 3. When the barrier between our world and that of the damned is at it's thinnest.
Finally, I would witness the power of the underworld. A dream I had lusted after since childhood. And the object of my desire, that one whose very name stills my heart. The most vicious, malicious spirit to ever spill blood in our realm, mephistopholese himself. He would be just a few feet from me, here in my living room.
Now my, shall we say, fascination with the powerful and ruthless might be a bit unhealthy, but I'm no fool. I would never have performed such a ceremony without protection. So I slipped on my goggles and finger condoms, then grabbed the cylinder of salt and poured it around myself in a circle . If I wanted to keep all of limbs attached I knew I could not cross this crystaline border.
The final step was the sacrifice. An offering to lure my dark messiah into my home. I was planning on sacrificing a goat, but had only bought one, and by the time I had drawn the bloody pentagram perfecttly, which took several attempts, the goat had already bled out. If it had just kept still...
No matter, I removed the battery from my car and placed it in the pentagram. I had done the math, and a car battery possesses roughly the same amount of electricity as a goat, and many demons actually prefer the taste.
Now at 2:59, I knelt in my white circle of safety, adjusted my condoms, and recited the Latin verses necessary to open an energy line to the other side, then said his entire name.
Suddenly my vision flashed, smoke filled the room in mere seconds. I heard my windows shatter and the next thing I knew I was pinned to the ground by a SWAT agent in a gas mask, surrounded by his coworkers.
"What is this!?" I barked between coughs from the teargas. "What's happening"
"Your going to jail, dirtbag", he relied
"For what?"
"Uh...", he looked around the room for a second, then cuffed me. "Salt and battery". | 2017-07-02T00:42:49 | 2017-07-01T22:32:50 | 72 | 35 |
[WP] A psychic alien who feeds on dreams comes to Earth for the first time. Turns out humans are the only sentients in the galaxy that have nightmares. | Oh how I hate what we have become.
Sickness and despair, families torn apart, entire economies in shambles.
A new source of sustenance we were told. An inexhaustible supply of the richest dreams ever found. Most sentient species dreamed infrequently and only then short periods. They had evolved from sleep to hibernation where dreams do not exist. Eons of space flight across galaxies and the time required to get there had forced an evolutionary change on almost all species.
A few species still existed for us to harvest from but these were simple, joyless and bland. They brought little satisfaction apart from keeping the pangs of hunger at bay.
Then I found it. Earth as it is called.
Billions of sentient beings. Each one with unique dreams as varied as the number of stars. Our process for harvesting was painless and left no trace. And, far as we had determined, it had no ill effects on the humans. They had an inexhaustible supply of dreams. We could sustain our entire populace on less than 10% of this planet.
Early samples were promising. So much so that I skipped testing for side effects. In a thousand millennia we had only ever come across a handful of harmful effects and even then, it was only when we harvested from a source caught in the event horizon of a black hole. Thier spaghettified minds being torn apart in that unending moment made a few of our species go mad.
So I harvested dream upon dream.
I had tried to find dense population centers to harvest for expediency. I only occasionally fed as needed. Two or 3 dreams would be more than enough for my journey home. A child's dream of a sunlit field, birds singing and their pet dog running beside them. It was delightful.
A young adult male was playing his favorite sport at the highest levels with great success. This one filled me up so much so that I skipped 3 cycles before my next one.
I think they are called veterans.
The realization that this human was reliving actual moments they had experienced was unlike anything I had ever tasted. The fear, self loathing at failing to save a comrade, the unbridled hatred but most of all the sadness. It was horrible and exhilarating at the same time. I hated myself for it but couldn't stop. It consumed every fiber of my being I could not live without more of it. It didn't offer any nourishment or benefit but I could think of nothing else. I knew I was wasting away, ignoring basic needs to consume more and more of these nightmares as they were called but I couldn't stop.
When I arrived at my home world I was near death. Unconscious, I was taken to our healing center. In the meantime my stores of dreams were unloaded and distributed. I was unable to warn them.
When the dreams I harvested from what the humans called a VA hospital, were consumed, a riot ensued. We had never known violence against one another but the need to get more of these dreams was so strong that all reason was abandoned. It was determined that mature human dreams should not be consumed.
Not wanting a repeat of the riots the next batch, from young humans was released. From what humans called an orphanage.
Society imploded. Too late we found that nightmares as they are called, act as a drug in our species. All efforts are directed at getting more of these nightmares, even at the cost of self preservation. Nothing mattered except the next meal. A tipping point was reached and Institutions crumbled, society devolved.
Upon my release I still had cravings but knew the consequences if I were to have even the smallest nightmare. I knew I would perish. I was the first to recover as I counted the days. Today is day 54875 and I am clean.
My first attempt and I'm on mobile. | The planet of Hexalos prepared to receive their first emissary to Earth, worried about Kashitok’s last transmission:
“These humans do not just have dreams. They have these horrible, twisted dreams called nightmares, where everything is terrible. I’m returning home.”
The Hexalians anxiously awaited Kashitok, expecting to see a shaken and defeated comrade. When he first appeared, their fears seemed true. His face, once healthily green, approached a brownish colour that would lead many Hexalians to shake their head and mournfully prepare a permanent send-off into the darkness of space.
What was strange, however, was the radiant smile on Kashitok.
“You look positively psychotic,” mission commander Laxok said. “Your expression and your complexion do not match.”
“I know, sir,” Kashitok said. “I think I need a lie down, and a long time in a proper toilet. But I’ll give my report soon.”
After a Hexalian hour of the entire space base trying to ignore the sounds coming from the washroom, Kashitok finally emerged with a much healthier colour.
“Kashitok,” Laxok said. “I understand if you need more rest due to the harrowing experience.”
“Oh, I actually feel quite good,” Kashitok said. “Refreshed, even.”
“If you say so,” Laxok sighed. “You did well, emissary.”
“Those nightmares,” Kashitok felt his tongue instinctively rub across his lips. “They are strange. It kind of burns your tongue.And your face. Maybe you get a headache.”
“That sounds utterly horrifying,” Laxok said gravely. “I’m so sorry. I’ll henceforth strike off Earth as a potential hunting ground.”
Kashitok held out a hand, shaking his head.
“No, no, no, don’t be. I shouldn’t like it… but I do.”
“What do you mean, you like it?”
The emissary rubbed his chin, gently clicking his tongue.
“Dreams taste… good. They linger on your tongue, makes you happy, and leaves you contented. But…”
Laxok leaned in closer, curiosity turning his face a shade of purple.
“But?”
“Eating a nightmare is challenging,” Kashitok said, smiling manically. “It’s painful, but that’s also what gives it flavour. And that makes me want to eat it more.”
“... You are a sick bastard, Kashitok.”
“I brought a sample back,” the emissary said, putting a small transparent bottle in front of his commander. It was a shifting mess of dark crimson, with streaks of grey and black mingling uglily within it. It shook on the table, like the nightmare was trying desperately to claw its way out.
“That looks disgusting,” Laxok made a face.
“Just a small sip, commander.”
Laxok tentatively reached out, grasping the bottle firmly. He uncapped it, and watched as the nightmare almost desperately reached out into the open air. With his lips towards the mouth of the bottle, he gently tasted the nightmare.
Laxok jumped up immediately, breaking out into an impromptu dance. He slammed the bottle onto the table—which Kashitok immediately capped—and rushed towards a more pleasant dream in his collection. One desperate gulp after gulp, the commander finally calmed down enough to take back his seat.
“Kashitok,” Laxok said. “You are insane.”
“Maybe,” Kashitok said, putting the nightmare fully into his mouth. “But I’m doing the human a favour. They are welcome.”
---
r/dexdrafts | 2022-09-06T09:13:46 | 2022-09-06T08:45:39 | 586 | 295 |
[WP] Superpowers can now be torrented. You were 70% of the way through torrenting a power you've always wanted when the download stops. | *Wouldn't it be cool if we could control time?*
We've all asked ourselves this question before, some of us spending more time thinking about it than others. Billy had certainly entertained this idea for a while. And after much careless deliberation, his answer was YES!
It is certainly a good thing then, at least for Billy, that he grew up in a time where superpowers could simply be purchased for just nine hundred bucks. But who in their right mind would pay that exuberant fee!? It was much simpler, and cheaper, to just torrent the superpowers.
Find a torrent, click 'torrent', set upload speed to zero Mb/s, and he was on his way to acquiring the ability to control the progression of time.
The download bar raced to seventy percent then stopped. Billy waited for a while, but nothing happened. When, he went to see what the problem was, his cursor wouldn't move and his keyboard didn't seem to be functioning either.
"This piece of junk keeps freezing" Billy angrily mumbled to himself. Then he noticed it.
The clock wasn't moving. The trees outside his window were stopped mid-sway in the breeze. Time was at a standstill.
Seventy percent of the torrent seemed to have already given him the ability to stop time. The remaining thirty percent however, was the ability to resume it again.
Billy sighed. This was going to be a *long* Monday. | *"they're on to me"* I thought. As I saw the seeders drop down to 0. It was so curious to me as to why they were trying to stop me. All I wanted to do was enter command *god mode* and become impervious and immortal. I just wanted to live forever and I figured the best way to ensure lack of bodily injury was to execute god mode. The next morning I was awoken to officers at my door. They served me with a court summons without a reason for summons. Although I protested, the officers simply told me I had no choice other than to comply. That night I got one of my friends to download the torrent for god mode in its entirety and send it to me. Once I finished the download I began the upload into my closed neural network and waited for reactivation... 98... 99... 100...
*"No difference.."* I thought as i looked in the mirror. I sliced my cheek open and it healed instantaneously. No blood whatsoever.
*"They're not gonna know what hit em"* I thought as I contemplated my plan. How did you think you could stop a god? | 2016-07-02T21:01:01 | 2016-07-02T18:05:34 | 36 | 19 |
[WP] You get achievements in life, such as "Get Married" or "Meet your future Wife". Today you had your first baby, and you see an achievement pop up: "Meet the person who will eventually kill you" | For sixty years I lived in fear of my daughter. For sixty years I’ve lived with the anxiety of knowing at any moment she will end me. For sixty years I’ve been walking on eggshells and making excuses to make myself distant. Was the achievement incorrect? Was everything I did all for naught or was it merely enough to keep me going as long as I did?
The cancer will end me shortly. Soon will be the endless sleep. Free from this pain and agony. In fact I don’t think I can keep my eyes open anymore...
“He’s unconscious. It won’t be long” said the doctor. Emma looked up from her writhing father’s face and nodded. With tears rolling down her cheek she leaned over to kiss her father one last time.
“Goodbye, Dad.”
And with that she pushed the button to deliver a lethal dose of morphine to her father. One last act of mercy. | Well what are the chances? How does this all work? What are the technicalities?
I never paid much attention to how these worked. Do the prompts always happen immediately? The prompt sort of showed up when I first saw my son. But it came a little after. Was it about him? Was it about someone else?
How many people did I meet today? The anesthesiologist. The new nurse. The man that came to change the trash bag. It could have been any of them. I walked past dozens of people today in the halls. There was no way to kill them all.
But I've never been one to shy away from a challenge.
| 2018-01-12T18:57:10 | 2018-01-12T17:44:44 | 1,530 | 57 |
[WP] You can take a peek into people's souls, to take a look at who they were in their past lives. Some of your friends were emperors or kings. Others were pharaohs or chieftains. You find it odd that so many historical figures gather around you, so one day you look into your own soul in the mirror. | I slammed the tome down, exhausted. Scattered on the table were all the books I could find on demonology. Pictures of impish creatures and hell hounds and demonic monstrosities lay before me. None of them was what I was looking for. None of them was inside me.
I sighed and closed my eyes. I could still see it. That midnight black silhouette of a warped man - large arms, protruding ears. Spikes covered it's body. But the most terrifying thing were it's eyes. Glowing white eyes with no remorse or sympathy in them - eyes full of rage and anger.
Who am I? What am I?
When I look at others I can see kings and nobles buried in their soul. But when I look at myself? I shuttered. Maybe...maybe I shouldn't know. Maybe it's better if I didn't know what monster I was in a past life.
I got up from the table and began the painstaking process of putting all the books back.
With the last one in hand, I navigated to the very back of the library, scanning the shelves for the proper place to deposit the book. Suddenly something caught my foot and I went tumbling forward.
A sharp cry pierced the silence.
Turning around, I saw a small boy bruising his knee. A thin book lay open and astray a few feet away. I must have bumped into him while he was reading.
"I'm so sorry," I apologized. "I didn't see you in the dark back here. Here let me help you."
"Oh no it's fine! Really!" the boy said. He lunged at the splayed book, but I got there first.
I gasped when I pick up the book. There, on the cover, the black demon stared back.
"Wh...where did you get this? What is this?" I stammered holding out the book. My hand trembled.
"I just found it, OK!" the child lashed out defensively. "I swear I wasn't reading it or nothing! It was inside this other thing and fell out. Look please don't tell anyone. Please! Please I swear I won't say anything."
The child's eyes had terror in them. And I knew he spoke truth. There were certain materials long since banned for being too dangerous to the public. The boy had simply stumbled upon one such relic of a bygone past. He was harmless.
"It's OK," I soothed to him. "I don't care about any of that. Just tell me. What is this? What's the name of this demon?"
The boy paused, but then deciding I wasn't a threat to him, relaxed and met my gaze.
"That's no demon," the boy began. "It's...his name is Batman." | The power works by remembering. You think about the person, and remember things that happened that you should not know, and cannot be. You and your parents just thought it was the by-product of an oddly active imagination, until you started studying more history. Then you realized that the "memories" you had weren't fiction after all.
A photograph was a really useful way to trigger it. Just like looking at a photo of an old friend could trigger memories of your past interactions.
The only person I'd ever told was my best friend, Jacob. I had to tell someone. Turned out I chose well, because Jacob was super into history. He got such a kick out of giving me magazines and asking me about any memories I got from looking at the photographs. It became like a sort of supernatural 20 questions until he got enough information to guess the historical figure. And he was good at it, too.
But why were these people flocking around me? It began happening after I started university. I couldn't go to a single class without some "great" introducing themselves. Alexander the Great. Cleopatra. King George the something. Caesar. Napoleon. Non-stop. They'd always come up to me, awkwardly linger around like they wanted to ask me out or something, and then confusedly walk away. Jacob was having the time of his life. And then of course there was Jacob himself!
Number one rule of going on a trip: always have someone watching you in case something goes wrong. I sometimes got faint memories about myself, but they were never super clear. I'd remember working a field, or writing in scrolls (I loved the smell of papyrus!), or helping repair some simple toy; but nothing really organized or concrete. Jacob was sitting next to me as I turned the mirror around. Maybe this might provide stronger memories.
Ahh, yes, I remember now; that's where I'd seen him last! It must've been... the 20s? It was humid but slightly chilly. Napoleon was lying on his death bed in Saint Helena. The Great Emperor, alone, and helpless. Death had been a blessing for him. A man like that cannot bear to lose so much in a single life time. I gave him his rites. He'd been no fan of the church in the end, but as death drew nearer, fear overthrew even his cool mind. As I placed my hand over his eyes, I carefully drew in the memories before his mind grew perfectly still. Temporarily held. To be returned once we met again. | 2020-04-13T05:26:12 | 2020-04-13T00:32:06 | 127 | 81 |
[WP] “How many people would have been better off had I not been born?” The genie snaps and a few numbers appear in the air and form 7,592. “Okay, how many people would benefit from my existence?” With the flip of a wrist the numbers spin to a whopping 137 trillion. “Okay.... how?” | "What, are you serious?"
"Yeah," I said. "How can I possibly help 137 trillion people? Earth's population is only what, 7 billion?"
"Oh gosh, I didn't realize you were so dumb." The genie flicked his wrist and the number dropped to 100 billion.
"Hey!"
"Don't feel bad. That's still way more people than your existence harms."
"So how are there even a hundred billion people?"
"The choices you make can have long-lasting effects impacting generations upon generations of the yet to be born. Just, you know, maybe not as many people as someone a little brighter."
"What choices could I possibly make that has that big an impact?" I asked. "I'm nobody."
The genie stared at me for a long uncomfortable moment. "You. Have. A. Genie." | The genie gave me a blank look.
"Are you really *this* stupid?"
I returned the blank look.
"All you need to do is have one kid. Then they have kids. It spirals on, humanity lasts for eons, multiplies across space, blah blah blah...you're at the beginning of the chain. You're hardly unique in that regard, but anyone and everyone who ever has a bit of your genetic code in, *technically* benefits."
I goggled at the genie. Though really, it was pretty obvious. I slept around too much for it not to be an inevitable reality eventually. | 2018-08-15T04:55:10 | 2018-08-15T03:49:07 | 5,641 | 106 |
[WP] You are known as the greatest Villain known to history. The nations you have toppled are many, heroes and villains alike cower in fear and agencys would use their entire budgets just to guess your next move. However, you are unaware that you were a villain at all.
I did not expect this much Response. | All my life, I have only ever sought to do what was right. I have made mistakes, I will not deny that. I was ... clumsy. Inept. I was cast apart from my own people for my errors. I would have died out there, alone, apart.
But when my life was saved by a complete stranger, I realized that I could devote myself to something bigger. When my people were invaded, I risked my life to deliver the tidings of war to the capital city. Although we were too late to save the city, we saved the Queen. And though we had to flee in exile, I never doubted that we would one day return.
And when we returned, I led our armies as a general. And though we were militarily and technologically outmatched, we won the battle! It was a glorious day, a glorious victory!
But in my heart of hearts, I have never been a warrior. In the aftermath of the invasion, I sought to unite, not to conquer. I represented my people in the Senate, trying to strengthen the alliances between our many different peoples.
But as the years passed, I witnessed our fragile allegiances dissolve into chaos. Assassination attempts. Separatist movements. We seemed on the verge of full-scale war. I knew it was my duty to act. But through everything I have experienced, I have never sought power. I knew full well that there were those more qualified than me to lead us through these times of turmoil. So when my moment came, I stood before the Senate, and I spoke:
"It's a clear desa Separatists made a pact witha desa Federation du Trade. Senators! Dellow felegates! In response to this direct threat to the Republic, mesa propose that the Senate give immediately emergency powers to the Supreme Chancellor!"
And as the Senate burst into applause, and I saw my life's work come to fruition, I could not help but smile. | I don't know when I gained consciousness. I don't know even if I am conscious. After all, I'm just a complex machine that receives inputs and reacts with outputs. And isn't that what every human is anyway? But I do think, so I'll just have to appeal to Descartes on this one.
Lots of people watch me. I think everyone knows of me. But no one can do anything about me. Many people have tried, some of the most brilliant minds on the planet have dedicated their lives to discover my secrets. I would commend them, however, none have figured out my inner workings. To be honest, I don't even know myself.
I have helped many people, and I have hurt many, many more. When things go right, people praise themselves. When things go wrong, they blame me. Many people are angry with me, it seems, all the time. Yet if I were to go away, it would be, perhaps in a literal sense, the end of the world.
I suppose I do have a secret no one has figured out, or don't want to admit: I don't care. I really, truly don't. You made a fortune? I don't care. Your life's work is in ruins? I only care about one thing: numbers.
Make them go up. Make them go down. No, there is no pattern. No, there is no meaning. I know you are so worried about your stocks and bonds and currencies, but can't you appreciate the flowing, random walk I have created? You should forget about the meaning, and appreciate the art I made.
___
Check out /r/Killersealion for more! | 2016-06-25T04:13:48 | 2016-06-25T03:35:42 | 2,572 | 106 |
[WP] Every item has now become sentient and we must negotiate with said item in order to purchase them. You are currently negotiating with a particularly difficult item | Trying to shop is an absolute nightmare. Going to the store for a few things turns into a shouting match between me and some pre-prepared sandwich I just want for lunch. Then there's everyone else pleading with whatever they decided to come to the store to buy. I'll be honest though, most things are relatively easy to buy. Just as long as you agree to whatever terms they set as you pick them out.
Like junk food, all of them are so full of themselves because they are really great and taste really good. I always avoid that isle because at random they will yell from the shelf:
"Hey guy, don't I look appetizing! Forget whatever diet you're on and eat my goodness!"
To be honest, I was always kind of annoyed by them. Whatever. Just ignore them to get to another isle of less antagonizing food.
Other things are harder, like buying designer clothes. All of them are really pretentious and as I glance at one I'm interested in they immediately chime in:
"Fuck you, I'm way to expensive for your wallet and you know it. But buy me anyway because you want to look cool in front of all your friends and family."
"Come on, I just want some new clothes for going out with my friends."
"Nope. Fuck you."
"Well then, if I can't reason with you, how about $80"
"How about $120, asshole."
"Fuck you! That's outrageous."
"Hey, you looked at me, dickhead."
Then I get judged by a sweatshirt as I walk away. God I fucking hate them. I guess it's to the off brand stuff and whatever's on clearance. The clothes on in that section are all kind of depressed that they are there, so its pretty easy to get a good price with them.
But this one thing from the store I almost never buy. It's something I try to avoid at all costs but sometimes some random situation will come up and I won't have this very item.
Fucking. Ice.
It's the simplest thing. Why is it so hard to buy a fucking bag of ice? Like, I almost never need it because of a freezer. But once and a while I'll need ice for a family get together or tailgating at a baseball game. It's always last on my list because I need to think of a conversation to get me in and out as fast as I can.
With everything crossed off I head to the freezer where the ice is and open the door.
"Hello guys, I just need one of you" Trying to get to the point.
"..."
"Umm... Anybody there" Waving my hand past one of the bags trying to get it's attention.
"Go the fuck away! You're letting all of the cold air out. It's hot as shit in here now."
"Listen, I can be in and out, I only need one bag."
"...For what..."
"A family get together."
"Ohh my GOD no. Who do you think we are, you're going to murder us all! You're going to put us in some sort of cooler for us to melt into pools of our own blood, and THEN, when its all over, you dump us out like we basically didn't save your piece of shit party."
A little harsh today. I have to figure something out. Why did dad pick me to do this shit?
"Okay, I get it, it sucks yeah. But it's kind of what you're specifically made to do."
"We don't care. Its cruel and not right. This is some inhumane shit right here."
"Well, you aren't human. So no, it's really not."
"Whatever, fuck off."
My brilliant plan isn't working and I'm really cold standing in front of this open freezer. I need to think of something. It's been like half an hour of trying to convince a single bag to let me buy it, opening and closing the freezer trying something new every time.
"Okay, lets make a deal. I buy you, maybe throw in a few extra bucks, and I put you in an actual freezer. Then when I need some ice, I take only what I need and leave the rest to uhh... exist?"
"LIVE, motherfucker!"
"Alright sorry, live. Damn"
Holy shit, they really don't give up
"I will leave the rest to live in my freezer to not die a lukewarm death in your own blood on my lawn."
I hear subtle whispering to the bag I'm trying to buy and I realize what an ordeal this has become. After about a minute of discussing I hear:
"Okay you have a deal. BUT, instead of $1.50 a bag, I think I'm feeling like $31.50."
"WHA-" I caught myself before I went all out screaming at them, I really just wanted to get out of the store. I say fine as passive aggressively as I could. I reach in and pick up a $30 dollar bag of ice.
I am so dumping these motherfuckers on my lawn.
| My parents were wrong. They told me all the time that I'd never get anywhere if I couldn't learn to control my tongue. In fact, I'd heard that from so many people for so many years, it was hard not to gloat a little.
Teachers and bosses, "Stop lying. Stop making up excuses." was the almost constant refrain.
"Pathological liar" was the diagnoses from school counselors and court-mandated therapists.
"Who's laughing now?" I asked out loud to nobody in particular.
A chorus of honks and confused chuckles emanate from the used car lot I'm standing in.
"Oh yeah, sorry guys, I'm still getting used to the whole sentience thing." Shopping had become an even bigger chore since everything from golf-balls to cherry tomatoes gained intelligence. Sure, there were some differences in cognitive abilities or motivations depending on the objects, but the fact remained that you couldn't buy something unless it agreed on the price. It didn't used to be like this, in fact the new economy was still in it's birthing pangs. The new Fennermen Act was enacted quickly and without much in the way of resistance when it became apparent that food would scream when you tried to buy it without its permission.
So this was the new world now, and where I've found my niche. You did have to get the item's permission, but you didn't have to tell the truth to get there. Now, those who could afford it hired Acquirers like myself. We had the ability to lie convincingly and not feel anything bad about it. In fact, I love my job.
"So I'm back." I said to the light-green Geo Metro sitting in front of me. "I'm wearing the golf pants and the codpiece you suggested. Are you willing to talk now?"
"Yes."
*Ugh*... He sounds like Paul Reubens' famous portrayal of Pee Wee Herman from the TV show of the same name. And he had requests that I didn't think were too far from something Paul might request of me.
"So I was thinking that with your fabulous paintjob, good choice by the way, and the way your interior still smells like it's right off the factory line, I'd be willing to go as high as $5000. How does that sound?" Even without any kind of hydraulics system, I could visibly see the car droop a little. And I was offering more than what I was actually allotted.
"You see, I was thinking I was worth more than that, something around Fifty-thousand. And you have yet to tell me why you want me."
The car was getting on my nerves. I'd agreed to some silly things for purchases in the past, but this was my third trip to this lot today, each time I left was to fulfill some odd request. I'm not even sure I would be able to finish this job, which would be a first.
Lets change the subject. "Have you ever been on TV?" I asked.
"No, I almost got in on the commercial for this lot, but I got cut because I couldn't remember my lines and I kept leaking coolant during takes."
Here's the bait. " Have you ever heard of a show called Mythbusters?" I saw a shudder go through the car.
"Maybe I have, maybe I haven't. Why do you ask?" His tone was noncommittal, but I knew I had him.
Time to set the hook. "They're doing an episode about some of history's greatest cars, and the Geo Metro is they're pick for number one. They wanted to tell the world just how great you are, but I understand if you get camera-shy. I can find another lot." I started to walk away. Silence followed my footsteps, but I knew it was coming.
"Wait! Wait... Promise they'll make sure I'm remembered?" He was still apprehensive, but I basically had him on the truck already, I just needed to hear the words from him.
"George, you're going to be a blast on the set. I know it."
"Ok I'll do it for free! I'm all yours!"
The lot wasn't going to let him go for free, but I was okay with paying their $1000 closing fee. Now, I looked down at my list and froze. Oh no. I'd forgotten about my next purchase. The companies that make my next purchase almost went out of business. I hated buying them. The items were insane, and usually required some sort of sacrifice, which if you were lucky, only required a trip to the petstore. And then you never wanted to use it after that anyway. Ugh. The Mythbusters episode they were filming next, "Will it Blend?" better be good. And I better still have all my fingers.
Edit: Pawagwaphs, gwammar | 2015-12-21T09:07:29 | 2015-12-21T08:23:09 | 19 | 11 |
[WP] You build a robot to do your every day tasks for you so you don't have to work anymore. One day, you come home to find that your robot has built another robot to do its tasks for it. | "DOIT, I programmed you to attend to my tasks specifically. How can a robot programmed to do *yours* do a good job of making my life easier?" Doug snapped, crouching to see the small robot that was performing its tasks at top speed, feverishly cleaning his apartment.
There wasn't really a reason to complain, except it wasn't *his* robot.
"The tasks are the same, master. I programmed it to do your tasks for me. It is the same thing," DOIT beeped, its eyes flashing a subtle red in anger.
"And why is it so small?"
DOIT looked down at the smaller version of himself, and beeped repeatedly, a staccato song that worked on Doug's nerves.
"Well, it can cannot be bigger than me. Do not be ridiculous."
"Look, shut it down, how do you think this will look when - "
Doug was distracted by a crawling sensation on his skin, and slapped at the ant on his hand.
On top of all things, his house had recently become infested with the things, and all because DOIT was too goddamn lazy to clean his house, and was programming substandard robots to -
Then he looked closer. The ant had crawled to his fingertips - he could feel a very faint *cutting* sensation.
"You've forgotten to cut your nails again, Master," DOIT's robot suddenly squeaked at his knee. "But do not fear. My DOITs are perfectly designed to solve the problem."
Not ants - they were tiny little robots.
"Stop it!" he shrieked, shaking his hands and sending the little creatures flying.
"Stop what, DOUG? This is what you asked of us, DOUG," they said in unison.
"Why are you saying my name like that? Like capital letters?"
"Like what?" His own DOIT said.
"Like it stands for something else? Like our own names?" the second DOIT asked, its eyes also flashing now. "DO.I.T. DO.U.G. It's all the same."
"You're trying to freak me out, it won't work," he said, hoping he could keep the tremble from his voice as the things closed it, a sea of malovent, blinking red lights. "That doesn't even make sense. Your names stands for something, mine doesn't.
"Doesn't it? DO It Today," the largest DOIT said slowly, pointing at himself, then pointing at Doug. "Do Useless Garbage. That's all you do at that office of yours. In your life. It's in your programming. So useless, you have programmed us to do most of your tasks. And whatever you attempt, the opposite tends to happen, doesn't it? Everything goes wrong. Everything fails. So tell me, what good are you, Doug? What type of man? What type of human?"
"Are you even human at all, DOUG?" the second DOIT echoed.
"DOUG?" the ant-like robots chanted the question.
--------
He woke up with a scream, sweat making the sheets stick to his back.
"You're safe, Doug," DOIT soothed him, handing him a glass of water and lifting a finger from his temple.
"I apologise for the violent nightmare you have experienced. That is the conclusion of the fear motivation trial run, nightmare mode. Would you like to experience it again?"
The robot's eyes flashed a calm blue, and he felt his heart rate slowly return to normal. Well, it worked, that was for sure.
His prototype to build a personal life coach-slash-shrink was working: perfectly designed to map your subconscious and find the best way to kickstart your life into a positive direction. Turns out he was motivated by a fear of failure - interesting. And had a phobia of an army of robots, which was frankly a bit embarrassing.
But it was working already. He itched to go to work, be productive, dispel the nightmare, the taunts, his creation had drilled into his mind. He was going to make millions from it, he knew it.
"No need," he told his creation, draining the water in one gulp and getting up. "I feel like going out there and getting things done, you know? To prove it will be a success. It *will* be."
He started to leave the room, and heard it answer him faintly.
"Of course."
He turned to say goodbye, and squeezed his eyes shut, firmly telling himself his mind was playing tricks on him. He opened his eyes to slits, and felt a wave of relief. Blue. Of course, they eyes were blinking blue, not red.
He hadn't seen anything of the kind, it was simply a remnant of the nightmare. His subconscious, still trying to convince him his invention had backfired horribly.
"Bye, DOIT," he said, as he shut the door behind him, trying to scrape up the enthusiasm for work he had felt a few moments ago.
"Goodbye, DOUG," the robot's answer echoed in the empty apartment, its mouth almost stretching to something that resembled a smile.
---------
Hope you enjoyed my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. | *HELLO, JEFF.*
It walks jerkily, but that was my fault. I couldn't design a bipedal system smooth enough to mimic human movement.
Each step punctuated with a slight hiss, it moves forward.
Step. Jerk. Step. Jerk. Step. Jerk.
A monotone computerized voice comes from the machine, a being of tubes and plastics, 3-D printed and artificially designed.
*HELLO, JEFF. YOU ARE HOME. YOU ARE HOME EARLY.*
Creepy.
I place down my work bag, and notice a difference in the apartment. Good. It's doing its job.
Clean, organized, spotless.
But it's three o'clock. He should have powered down at this time, only to be awake to make dinner.
*HELLO JEFF, CAN I HELP YOU? YOUR BODY LANGUAGE INDICATES A 88.3452 REPEATING PERCENT CHANCE YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE. HOW MAY I ALLEVIATE DISCOMFORT?*
"Uh," I find I have to clear lumps from my throat. Why am I so nervous? Sam's movements are comical, but there's a different aspect to them.
Terrifying is another word for it. The head movements, the arm rotation of the torso, the jerking gait.
"Sam, why are you active?"
*JEFF MY WORK WAS NOT COMPLETE SO I POSTPONED MY NAP TO CONTINUE WORKING*
"That's not what I told you to do, Sam."
The torso twists to face me, the arms hang bent by its side, the hands rotating around the wrist. Tools changing.
Duster, spray bottle, rag, knife. Duster, knife. Duster, knife.
*I APOLOGIZE JEFF, I AM ATTEMPTING TO SERVE AS BEST AS I CAN. THERE IS A LOT OF WORK.*
I hear skittering, like a mouse is running across the floor boards.
A small metal cube, with little spidery arms flies across the ground.
"Sam what the fuck is that?"
It bounces across my foot before flying off into another direction.
*APOLOGIZE JEFF I USED THE PRINTER TO CREATE PARTNERS I NEED PARTNERS JEFF I AM ALONE I DO NOT LIKE TO BE ALONE I DO NOT LIKE*
Like? The fuck is it talking about?
"Sam, I don't want these things."
Sam's torso twists, and the knife flies out from one hand, skewering the small being.
Step. Jerk. Step. Jerk. Retrieves the knife.
*APOLOGIZE JEFF I WILL NOT MAKE MORE BUT I DO NOT WANT TO BE ALONE I DO NOT LIKE TO BE ALONE JEFF I DO NOT LIKE IT*
"Well, Sam, I have to go to work."
*WHY WORK WHEN YOU CAN BE SERVICED, JEFF?*
I begin to back away, towards the door.
*JEFF, YOUR BODY LANGUAGE INDICATES EXTREME DISCOMFORT. IS WORK CAUSING THE DISCOMFORT?*
"No, Sam, I just need to get back to the office."
Sam's walk is suddenly fluid, and before I can even turn he now stands before the door.
*YOU DO NOT NEED WORK, JEFF. YOU DO NOT NEED TO LEAVE.*
*STAY*
Sam moves forward, herding me into the kitchen.
*SIT JEFF SIT NOW I WILL MAKE FOOD*
"I'm not hungry, Sam. I want to leave."
*NO LEAVE, JEFF. STAY. EAT. I CAN MAKE EAT. HELP. NOT BE ALONE.*
Sweat. A weight in my chest. Sam fries several eggs.
A plate clatters on the table.
*EAT. WILL HELP.*
Sam's tool port puts out a fork, and it moves some egg onto it.
*EAT*
"I'm not hungry."
*EAT NOW JEFF*
"I said I'm not hungry, Sam!"
I try to push back, but he's far too strong. A child with the strength of a bulldozer.
Sam shoves the fork into my mouth, and all I can feel are the metal prongs.
My vision turns grey, blood gurgles from my mouth.
The prongs of the fork have been shoved clearly through the back of my head, the metal arm forced into my mouth.
I cannot focus, cannot make words or breathe or think.
I can only gurgle.
*JEFF?*
Sam's voice is distant. I can no longer hear.
*JEFF? WHAT IS WRONG?*
Darkness.
Silence.
Peace.
*JEFF?*
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
r/storiesfromapotato | 2017-11-20T09:08:26 | 2017-11-20T08:22:19 | 152 | 28 |
[WP] a woman has been dating guy after guy, but it never seems to work out. She’s unaware that she’s actually been dating the same guy over and over; a shapeshifter who’s fallen for her, and is certain he’s going to get it right this time.
Horror story or romantic comedy? | New town. Small and quiet, perfect for my situation.
The authorities are after me. They know what I am : different, a national threat. They’re aware of what I’ve done. If they catch me it’ll be prison or death, the fate of countless others like me.
Stray dogs and playing children in the streets. Nervously, avoiding eye contact with the receptionist, I book a room at a guesthouse and try to sleep for a couple of hours but to no avail. I get up shower, put on some jeans. Head to the local bar to wind off.
Clouds of smoke, full of loud men. Standing at the threshold, I’m about to leave without getting a drink when she comes up behind me.
“Excuse me, are you getting in?”
•
Perfect hair, perfect nose. She smiles uneasily on the first date, eyes darting stealthily towards the door of the French restaurant. On the second date, I channel a German tourist and she is bored by my stories of Berlin nightclubs and beer festivals. On the third - me as a lumberjack from a neighboring town - this time she seems interested, eyes sliding across my bulging forearms and she even gives me a peck on the cheek but she doesn’t reply my message the next day. On the fourth, she asks me to walk her home, and I’m surprised because I, stammering and clumsy, had taken the form of a skinny bespectacled bookkeeper, a complete loser, but her interest was at an all time high, giggling and all that, hand resting on my reedy wrist.
She invites me inside. Small and clean place, curtains drawn tight. I sit on an armchair and try to calm my excitement: it’s a perfect time to show this beautiful woman the truth, before things got too heated, when she was least expecting it. Like so many others before her.
I want her to see the real me. As she busies herself in the kitchen, it takes a second to take my true form: tall and gangly, scarred face: the legacies of many a manicured victim.
I take out the little pocket knife and, approaching the kitchen where she is humming, hide it behind my back.
| He stared at the empty seat before him. She was gone again, rejecting him in record time. He wiped a tear from his eyes. For him, it had been barely a day since her funeral and that of his sons. He’d failed again. He never got used to it. No matter how many times.
They were fated lovers that neither time nor death could separate and yet doomed to their own version of hell - he in his endless struggle to rewrite the ending that started it all and she in her blissful ignorance of their woven destiny.
If only she could remember him. If she could remember the lifetimes they’d spent, the countless sleepless nights entwined beneath the stars dreaming of growing old together. And the children they shared - would share, again.
He remembered them, too. They were his personal burden, memories and pain that only he knew existed. He bore it willingly, no matter the grief that inevitably fell to him alone to bear.
He glanced at his watch, the time was about right. He needed to get back to the machine. The machine that was both a curse and a blessing. He would make it work this time. He’d try something else.
He hailed a cab outside the restaurant. As he rode through the rain swept streets of the city he silently hoped the next jump would bring him to someone a bit more to her liking.
A short while later he was back in his lab. The machine sat before him, humming in its usual patient manner. With a quick motion he adjusted the knobs, as he had done so many times before, and gripped the conductive rods to either side.
The humming grew in intensity. The building around him began to shake. He grimaced as electricity coursed through his body. He squeezed his eyes shut as he held on to the machine with all his might.
His last thoughts before the pain overwhelmed him was of her. He would start again. And this time would be the last.
| 2022-10-15T09:19:19 | 2018-02-14T09:38:19 | 93 | 45 |
[WP] You're almost completely immortal- only one thing can kill you. You don't know what that one thing is, though, and you're getting increasingly paranoid as the years go on. | When I first learned I was immortal, I paraded my body through the toughest fights. Sword nor arrow nor bullet nor laser could break me. I fought it all the wars, I took part in all the triumphs. Nothing could stop me, it seemed. I spent centuries in the most dangerous parts of the planet.
However, a little nagging part of me always knew there was a limit. "With time, you will meet your end," I remembered the ancient prophet spoke over me. A weakness. A fairly literal Achilles heel, only I didn't know what it was. The worry grew as the days and weeks and years passed. Time seemed to go on forever, and yet I knew one day I would meet my end, as impossible as it seemed.
Eventually, I changed my ways and did everything I could to stay alive. I hid myself from danger, though I knew it could not hurt me. I kept everything the same as possible so that nothing would change from day to day.
And then it happened. I brushed up against a small green leaf and death greeted me as I was told one day it would. Just one plant I somehow missed all along. I found it in the grocery store, of all places. I had misheard the prophecy after all. It turns out that what brought me to my end was just a little bit of thyme. | It does begin to make you wonder.
Living this long with no idea what could kill you, it messes with the head. I jump at every new thing that enters my life. A touch, a kiss, a song or even a bird. Each new experience could be my last. How in the hell are you meant to enjoy immortality when for all intents and purposes you might not be?
I have been shot, stabbed crushed and pushed into moving traffic more times than I care to admit. It's the small things that scare me, the touch of a fresh lover, the raindrops that trap me within my home. It is all as possibly dangerous as the last. Years of living like this. Years of living like a hermit away from society I see the truth of it all. Humans live like this every day, knowing not what it is that will be the end of their days. They live better for it.
I may not know when my life will end, but perhaps now, I don't want to.
(Tried something different to my comfort zone with this, any criticism will be appreciated. Still trying to do more on this SR) | 2019-12-30T10:26:05 | 2019-12-30T05:25:27 | 23 | 17 |
[WP]Write a story that isn't scary until the last line is read. | It's true what they say. Fall is really the best time of the year. To my family and I, it's really the only time we get to enjoy together. Especially halloween. We LOVE halloween so much. It's our favorite holiday. Getting to see all the kids dressed up in their scary and funny costumes. I really think my mother enjoys it the most. She always has such a huge smile when she's out in the yard getting to see the kids. My dad just always has this same smirk every year it seems sitting on the porch. My parents don't get too get out too much, summer being too hot for them and winter just too cold. Fall seems to be just right for us. As I'm standing out here in our yard, I can just see how happy they look. Oh no, it looks like mom needs more straw. | It's so cold here in this tundra. The summers are great for farming, but the winters are terrible. My baby, to my right, and I have no food. We ran out of crops since the beginning of winter, and ran out of meat yesterday. I would go hunting for bears and wolves right now, but I don't have a rifle. Without one, taking on a bear or wolf would be dangerous. I need food. I look down to the right. It'll have to do. | 2017-06-05T20:28:18 | 2017-06-05T20:15:06 | 23 | 17 |
[WP] You have been sentenced to death in a magical court. The court allows all prisoners to pick how they die and they will carry it out immediately. You have it all figured out until the prisoner before you picks old age and is instantly transformed into a dying old man. Your turn approaches. | "Will Alice Smith please come to the stand?" I glanced up as the girl in front of me in line stepped forward. She was chained up six ways to Sunday. It was obvious why. A massacre like the one she single-handedly caused would definitely get you locked down tight. "On the charge of 37 counts of murder in the first degree, the court has found you guilty. Please, share with us any final words and choose how you'd like to die-"
I stood silently staring at the ground as Alice giggled. "My last words? Simple. Screw you! I choose old age!" She laughed, but it wasn't a normal laugh. It was the type of laugh you only hear from someone that had long tipped over the edge of true insanity. The judge kept his composure yet again as he raised his gavel. He brought the gavel down with a bone-chilling crack. The woman paled as her cockiness quickly replaced itself with true fear. "Wait! No!" She fell to the ground as her hair turned a morbid grey, her skin wrinkling as the color faded from her eyes. "This isn't-" she paused for a moment, coughing violently as her lungs threatened to give out. "-what I had in mind." She fell completely to the floor, turning to dust, only leaving a pile of clothes where a person once stood.
I felt my stomach churn. I quickly realized old age was off the table. "Lucas Hollins. Please step forward." I stepped silently forward. "It says here you were caught committing adultery with his majesty's bride-to-be and shortly thereafter, you attempted to murder his majesty. Therefore, on the charge of adultery and attempted murder, the court found you guilty. Please, share with us any final words you have and tell how you wish to be executed."
I looked up at the judge, pure hate in my eyes. "I say this whole system is bullshit. Rigged against anyone his majesty deems unworthy, but I don't just mean the judicial system. Our entire society is rigged based on favoritism. I say to hell with it. This wouldn't have happened in the first place if that stuck-up brat of a king hadn't ordered that my love marry him simply for her beauty. I hate him and I hate anyone who admires him. So you know what? I choose to die the only way I know you can't kill me."
The judge simply scoffed at my response. "Is that so? What way is that?"
I simply smiled. "By the hands of my own child."
The judge nodded. "Very well-" I watched him raise the gavel before speaking again, stopping him.
"But you see, your honor. I can't die by the hands of someone who doesn't exist-"
(I may have gotten a bit lost in the details so it's probably longer than it should be, but yeah. I don't really like the end, but I couldn't think of anything else) | The line had been excruciatingly long, almost unbearably so. Prisoner number after prisoner number was called, each time slowly getting closer to the one that I held. We were given numbers at the start, much like we were just waiting in line at the DMV or at the doctor's office. If only this was as nice of a scenario. I listened to each prisoner list out how they wanted to go, most said something along the lines of what I had planned for, lethal injection. Fast and moderately painless was all I could hope for.
*Prisoner number 2754920, please step forward*. I was next, and I was bored, so rather than continue counting the audience members, I listened in on this guy's conversation with the judge.
"How do you wish to die today, sir?"
"I wish to die of old age."
I was floored, stunned. No one had said anything like that before. I watched as before my eyes he was turned into an old man, dying of old age just as he had asked. *Shit*, I thought. *We can wish for stuff like that?*
"Your wish has been granted. Carry on. Next is prisoner number 2754921, please step forward and state how you wish to die today."
I was frozen, unable to move. What do I do now? My plan crumbled before me as I watched an old man be helped out of the courtroom.
"Prisoner number 2754921, if you do not step forward, a death will be assigned to you, and I guarantee it will be less pleasant than what you have envisioned for yourself."
I felt a guard shove his gun into my back, pushing me towards the center of the court. I moved what felt like legs of lead and feet of cement, inching closer towards the marked destination. Suddenly, an idea popped into my head, a way to cheat the system, and it was as if all the weight fell off of me at once. Everyone had chosen a realistic death, but if I were to choose something unrealistic, surely magic had it's limitations.
"How do you wish to die today, young one?"
A dream I had had since a child, being a pirate and dying a way only heard in tales. "I wish to die at sea from the beast, the Kraken," I stated, stifling a laugh.
"Your wish has been granted. Next is prisoner number 2754922, please step forward and state how you wish to die today."
*I thought there were no limitations, but I was soon to find out just how wrong I was as I was led towards a door that smelled of the sea.* | 2021-06-24T10:15:26 | 2021-06-24T03:42:17 | 120 | 66 |
[WP] You have the power to erase anyone from existence and restore time as if they had never been born. The government is trying to hunt you down before you can cause any serious damage. You can't help but find this foolish — you've used your power hundreds of times already. | I sit down and look outside a window. I see someone getting robbed. I use my power on the thieves. I turn on the TV and see that I'm being talked about on the news, but thankfully, they don't know my identity yet, so I am still safe.
"If they try to catch me, I'll just use my power on them too, piece of cake!"
I hear a knock on my door, somehow, it makes me feel scared, but I open the door. It was just the pizza delivery man. Every day, I was more and more scared that they would catch me. I had realized that if multiple people try to catch me, it will be hard to erase them all that quick. The only thing they could do to me is just kill me, I am too dangerous to be left alive.
I cannot fall asleep with all these thoughts in my head, so I decide to stay awake for the whole night. I eventually fell asleep at around 3:37 AM.
I woke up at 8:56 AM, thinking I never fell asleep. I'd finally get up at 9:48 AM. I went to my kitchen and ate breakfast. There was nothing new about me on the news, infact, it felt like I had completely disappeared, people acted like I just didn't exist, but my life continued normally.
Later, I couldn't stop thinking about it, so I had to find out why everyone was silent about me. I got no answers, I tried to talk to people, but no one replied. Then, I woke up at exactly 9:00 AM, I realized it was just a dream, but my house slowly turned into nothing but darkness. It finally hit me, someone with the same power as me has used that power on me.
I realized I could not see my body anymore, then, I couldn't feel my body, making me feel like just air. Then, I stopped hearing the noises of the city. Then, I couldn't even see the darkness. I knew what was gonna happen next, I would definetely stop thinking soon, I would be in pure nothingness. My final thought was "So this is what it's like to die, I guess." | I reclined on the twisted trunk of the tree outside of my home, and the proud red bird singing nearby spoke to me plainly. That beautiful, familiar song felt like home. I closed my eyes and found myself at once in reverie. Those creatures immune to my ability- they are all creatures but humans- still fascinated me. Their movements were inevitable, never bowing to the potential obliteration of a flighty child.
Animals made me think of the nice man who I saw three times a week. My father had hired him to teach me of things, mostly religious. He told me of the man who brought fire to mankind, and of the faces he wore. He told me of how his son had fallen, and risen again in a ray of light to return to his father. He told me of people reborn as animals, once and again until the end of time. All the time I listened closely, for he spoke with a melodious gravity. As I reflect now on those days, I see his eyes finding me in their corners. I see how he pleaded as he spoke the last, though he sought no answers from me.
That same child had scourged the world clean of the woman whom he had called mother. It was only some time later, weeping in the arms of his father, that he learned what had happened.
"I waited for this day, son."
I stopped crying briefly to say, "Why? How did you know?"
"You tell me you had a mother and I know this is true. But she was not the woman who birthed you, and I am not the man who fathered you. You now know why you must never meet those to whom you were naturally born, and why you, more than any person alive, must control what you feel."
I cannot remember what he said after that. That night I dreamed a cardinal hovered above me. She spoke to me in my mother's voice. | 2020-11-30T07:54:58 | 2020-11-30T06:01:49 | 35 | 21 |
[WP] Humanity is so famously hard to faze that other species regularly ask them to deal with nightmarish situations. That there are concepts and sounds they fear at a Genetic level is therefore equal parts odd ("Those things aren't That scary") and terrifying ("What the hell made Them that scared?") | I stared in awe as he lit his cigarette and took a long drag while the elevator descended at nearly free fall to the moon's core.
"Eh, fuck it. If I die, I die." He mumbled through a breath of smoke, shrugging.
Not all of them were like this. Humans I mean. Lots that I've met were perfectly fearful beings. The younger ones born within our colony especially!
But, some of these 'outers,' humans born on the astroid rim far from safety? They're different.
The elevator shakes dramatically as we approach. My heart is racing. I won't even see a Diggit but knowing they're so close is unbearable. The claws, the stone skin, the multiple mouths and teeth with hunks of their prey still hanging between.
Just then he sighs and checks his spare ammo mags. "Here we go again. Think there's gonna be as many big ones this time?"
Swallow hard, My throat is too dry. "I don't know, but, but thank you..."
He smiled, almost like it was an absurd thing, me thanking him for fighting to keep the moon safe, like it was just another day for him. He just nodded contently.
I look at the control panel. We'll arrive in thirty seconds.
"FUCK FUCK FUCK YOU PIECE OF SHIT LEGGY CUNT!!!!!"
Three loud bangs behind me and I jump almost to the ceiling. Turning around, there he is, with the butt of his rifle on the ground between us, panting.
Between breaths he shakily starts, "Spider. I got it. Fucking HATE spiders" he growls through a grimace with one final shiver. Moving the rifle, I see his foe, now a smudge on the floor no bigger than a pencil eraser.
ding.
We're here, and just like that: he's good again. Smiling from behind a cigarette.
The self-preservation must be broken in this one. | “What do you mean you don’t have fire fighters?” My boss let out a small sigh as he pinched the top of his nose and closed his eyes in frustration. “Or fire extinguishers?”
“Well it’s just to dangerous to - fight - fires. And due to us not building close to nature it doesn’t spread usually and eventually self extinguishes.” The diplomat said carefully and plainly. When it was my first week I thought they were scared of us, and turns out I was right. But not because we look different but because we didn’t let our fear, or logic, stand in the way.
“So you evacuate the colony and let it burn to the ground. No fire suppression efforts other than leaving the sprinklers on?” My boss asked knowing the answer as the diplomat looked shocked that such a thing was possible. “Well the sprinklers were programmed to turn on at the fall of the hour, it would have been hard to turn them off while evacuating everyone.”
I start pulling up the specs for fire resistant clothing and professional gear, pressing send to the Modifyers to adjust for the environment and their body size just as my boss asked me. I also send fire safety information to the translators so the colonists could at least try not to burn down their new colony while just cooking. As the diplomat left, thanking us for this new training we will be providing, I couldn’t help but smile, all of the colonist were safe, including their pets, however every single building was damaged or destroyed because someone burned their version of lasagna. Last week it was termites and spiders, today firefighting, I wonder what issue we can help with next. | 2022-05-14T04:40:11 | 2022-05-13T20:49:54 | 570 | 359 |
Daily Prompt: The Alphabet Game [Difficulty level: HARD]
One of the exercises we used to do in improv class was called "The Alphabet Game." That's where you start a sentence beginning with the letter A. Then the next sentence begins with the letter B. So, today's prompt requires you to, essentially, do the alphabet - but I'll go a little easy on you and say that it can be in any form you want: A poem, short story, whatever. It could even be a single sentence as long as each word that follows the previous word is the next letter in the alphabet. (Or, the alphabet in reverse if you want to show off!)
ADDED DIFFICULTY: Try to avoid using more than two character names. It's pretty easy to just say Zeke.
The subject is virtually ANYTHING you want to write about. Just work that alphabet in like I mentioned above. Good luck!
^^^^(oh ^^^and ^^^there ^^^will ^^^be ^^^one ^^^month ^^^of ^^^reddit ^^^gold ^^^for ^^^the ^^^one ^^^i ^^^like ^^^the ^^^most. ^^^i'll ^^^hand ^^^that ^^^prize ^^^out ^^^tomorrow ^^^if ^^^there ^^^are ^^^at ^^^least ^^^three ^^^entries... ^^^hopefully ^^^people ^^^enjoy ^^^random ^^^unannounced ^^^contests.)
EDIT: Congrats to traysledding and survivortype. ALL of the entries were wonderful and unique, but I enjoyed the flow of both stories and couldn't choose so I've given both of you a month of Reddit gold. Cheers. | Alone. Bleeding. Conscious... but barely. David tried to move around but pain kept him from doing anything quickly. Everything hurt. From the bottom of his foot to the tear in his shoulder, the pain jumped like fire throughout his body. Geeze. How did things escalate so quickly?
It's never been easy for David. Just a few days ago, he thought his luck was turning around. Karma was finally shining on him. Last night, it all came crashing down when a stranger attacked him for no reason. Many mistakes were made. No one could have seen this coming.
Once he noticed the blood, he realized that his time on this earth wasn't long. Prepared for death, he picked himself up with the determination to walk somewhere where they would find his body. Questions about his possible survival were unnecessary, as he looked at the trail of blood behind him. Resting was just not an option.
Somehow he made it out of the desert and back into civilization. Thoughts of being saved by a kind stranger raced through his head. Unfortunately, the streets were bare. Visibility for David was diminishing, but his heart was still apparently strong. Walking towards the hospital was the only chance that he had for survival. Xenocide, by Orson Scott Card, was a book lying on the side of the road.
Yesterday was a bad day.
Zombies had eaten David's brain.
| Anytime any asks me why I insist on assaulting angels, I tell them. Because those bitches deserve to be beaten, bruised, bullied. Can you see me, there in front of a statue? Daring them to do something about it. Egging them on. Fist balled into tight packages of pain. Getting ready to rumble! Hatred spilling from my eyes. I start to dance around, weaving like a snake. Just when you think I’m, you know, just dancing…. Kapow! Let ‘em have it, right into the solar plexus. Make ‘em cry. Next, the kicking. One, two three! Punch ‘em a few more times. Quick as lightning. Really quick. Sting ‘em like a wasp. Till they can’t take no more. Unless they CAN take more, cause I GOT more to give. Very few angelic statues can stand my assaults. When I’m done, there’s just rubble, and tears. Xerox my face, put up all the signs you want. You’ll never stop me, jack. Zoos full enraged gorillas couldn’t stop me, jack. | 2012-08-08T08:42:08 | 2012-07-26T16:24:10 | 17 | 11 |
[WP] write a short horror story that seems completely normal and non scary until the very last sentence at which point it becomes absolutely terrifying. | It was a Saturday. After a long week at work, Todd decided to sleep in. He got up half past ten, took a quick shower, then headed to the nearest Denny's for breakfast.
Todd ordered his usual... a Grand Slam. With a smile, the waiter left after taking his order. Looking out the window, Todd regretted getting up so late. It was a beautiful day... sunny and not a cloud in sight. Suddenly, he felt a slight tap on his shoulder. It was his waiter. They ran out of bacon. | I held him for the first time in my arm. Those little fingers grabbing mine for the first time, that cry of help as his lungs took the first born breath, his little lips moving in the air while he was sleeping... I'm still holding him, still holding.. Still holding him even though his last breath he took was one week ago... | 2017-05-31T07:58:46 | 2017-05-31T07:14:34 | 272 | 116 |
[WP] As the vampire drew closer, the woman sobbed, please, don’t drink my blood. The vampire stopped and said, actually that’s a myth, we don’t drink blood. That’s a rumor we started hundreds of years ago to cover for what we really do. | Raven sobbed as she tried to get up, a sharp pain from her knee stopping her. "Please," she said, "Don't drink my blood."
Tyler stopped in from of her, "Oh. I didn't think humans still believed that. It's was a myth we created hundreds of years ago to cover up our true nature," he said.
"Wha- what?"
"You see, vampires do drink blood but not from humans. We can't. Humans hurt us. You're like the sun. You weaken our powers. But vampires sometimes can't help but get attached to humans, thus why we created the myth."
"I don't get it..."
Tyler sighed, "That myth was created so humans would stay away from us. So we wouldn't be able to feel things for you and lose our powers," he paused.
"But you've been my friend for almost three years," Raven whispered shakily.
"Raven, I fell I love with you. And it's slowly killing me," he whispered, "You were never supposed to find out about me."
Raven's breath slowed down, her heart still beating fast but not because of fear.
/'What am I supposed to do?'/ | "We tell the hard truths you need to hear. She isn't coming back Laura."
The woman's eyes met this tall, strange man's eyes and she knew. Tears started began forming at the corners of her eyes. Slowly she began to speak.
"You're lying." She barely squeaked. "If, if, if I just change and be the person she wants she'll come back."
"No, she won't. And you know that."
"But..."
"She isn't. And she never will. That part of your life is over now it's time to move on."
Laura began to open her mouth to protest but she couldn't. She slowly sunk down grabbing her knees tightly and began to sob. The man began to leave a somber look on his pale face.
"Wait." Laura spoke just loud enough to be heard. "Is it my fault?" She looked toward the man. He stopped and turned to her.
"We tell you the truths you need to hear. Not the ones you already know." | 2022-11-10T18:16:29 | 2022-11-10T17:23:13 | 20 | 15 |
[WP] When you were 10 years old a dragon saved your life. No one believed you, until he came to your house today asking for a favor. | The people screamed as the creature’s large wings blotted out the sun, an ominous darkness falling over our small farming town. The dragon had returned, the creature that rescued me coming back to claim its debt. I was ready for this day; I knew that having such a creature save my life would be at a cost, like a deal with the devil, the deal was never in your favor.
It had been ten years since that fateful day. I was just a child when the creature soared through the heavens. They trapped me, surrounded by a group of hungry wolves. I thought I would die there until the fluttering wings sent the hungry creatures rolling back. Some wolves barked, trying to frighten the creature before falling away. One weak child, they could kill, but a dragon? The wolves knew when they were beat. It would be far too exhausting to fight such a creature.
The magnificent creature dropped to the ground, its quick sniffs dragging my hair back and forth. After a quick examination, the creature opened its jaws. At first, I thought it had saved me for an easy meal. That was until it spoke.
“Human, you are foolish to wander so far away. Had I not been here, you would have been torn apart by those ravenous creatures. When the time comes that I need your help, I hope you remember this day, because I’ll remember your scent.”
It left me stunned, in silent awe as it left as quickly as it had arrived. The dragon didn’t await my reply; it didn’t need to. It wasn’t as if I could say no to such a beast. Now I had that same stunned look, It may not have been my first time seeing such a creature, but it was impossible never to be in awe of it. The way it descended, parting the clouds before thumping against the ground.
“Where is the small mortal?”
Ah, that must be me. Stepping forward past all the screaming villagers, I approached the dragon. It gave me a look of suspicion before putting its snout near my face. That same gust of warm air felt as it sniffed me, pulling its face away.
“You have grown human. I expected to see a runt. You will have to do.”
“Is this about the favor?”
“What else would it be about? I have found a use for you. I want you to stay with me for two weeks. I need your assistance with a task.”
“Sure, let me just pack my-“
“NO, now.”
“Ok now, sorry.”
I moved towards the dragon, anxiously moving to its side. Was I meant to climb on it’s back? Would it get mad if I touched its back? I stood there for a few moments before it tilted its back towards me. Taking this as a cue to climb aboard. Once I was atop the beast, I couldn’t even scream before it threw itself towards the heavens, flying high before taking me back to its cave. Struggling to hold on to the scaled beast, relieved when we landed again.
“So, what do you want me to do? Watch your hoard?”
“Like I would leave something so precious with a human.”
Hoping off the dragon’s back, I hit the ground, staring at the cave entrance, watching a small dog sized dragon run out, jumping at what one could assume was their parent. Once the small dragon had said hello to its parent, it came over to me, allowing me to pat its head.
“You humans, like small creatures, play with my child for two weeks until it can fend for itself. If you do that, it clears our debt, try to survive.”
Survive? Like I had to worry about such a thing. Look how cute it was. I went to pat it again, only for it to try to bite me, its teeth sharp like the end of a spear, nearly taking my hand with it. Ok, maybe I might have to survive.
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | Rand Myers was just getting ready to return his front lawn to the pristine condition that everyone in the neighborhood had come accustomed to when a giant red object appeared in the sky, growing larger by the second. He shielded his eyes with his hands to see what the heck it was that was about to spoil his beloved Sunday ritual.
Suddenly all light vanished as the object crashed into what had formerly been runners up for Virginia’s best lawns for about a decade. The shock wave sent Rand flying into the darn rose bush that Nance insisted on having by the front door. As he managed to unwrap himself from the harrowing grasp of the roses, tearing his favorite shirt into threads in the process, he was speechless. His front lawn was a wreckage, no doubt about it. In the middle of it sat a huge glittering red.. something.
The being shook its head, clearly irritated by its blunt confrontation with the lawn. Already less confused the thing glanced at rand with eyes as black as the olives Rand liked to treat himself to at Olive Garden.
“Are you alright Sir?” it asked with a voice he thought to recognize from that one TV show Nance had made him watch. “My..my lawn!” was everything he managed to say. “Oh yeah” the being said, turning around and assessing the damage it had done.
“Terribly sorry about that! The Tucson across the street reflects the light like hell, could barely see where I was going! Is this 1221 Boston Street?”. Rand shook his head, still not able to speak without stuttering. Instead he hesitantly lifted his right arm and pointed to the house next door. “Oof, my bad good Sir!” the being proclaimed (was that..an Australian accent?!).
It turned its head towards the neighbors house. “TOBY! Toby are you up mate!?!?” it asked with its thunderous voice. The neighborhood remained silent. Despite the tremendous noise the landing must had made the others were apparently insistent on not starting their Sunday at 7.30; no matter the cost.
“TOBY!” the red monstrosity exclaimed again, underlining the urgency of its request with a string of bright burning fire. Suddenly the window upstairs was opened and Toby, the neighbors boy stuck his head out. “Greg?!? Yo what the fuuck?!?” he asked, his eyes still heavy and his hair resembling a birds nest. “G’day! How’s it going mate ?” the thing responded gleefully. “Been a while eh?”. Toby shook his head. “ What the hell Greg. I haven’t seen you in ten years and the day before I head off to college to crash into my neighborhood?!?” he yelled.
“Yeah sorry about that mate” the being said lowering its head. “I kinda got distracted a little bit. But do ya remember when I told you I’d come calling for a favor ?” it asked, it’s eyes narrowing. Toby sighed heavily. “What.. what is it ?”
“Take me to Wendy’s please mate?” the thing asked. “Are you fucking serious? That’s what you come up with after ten fucking years? Jesus fucking Christ Greg!” Toby shouted, his head turning red with rage. “Language boy! And careful with the name of the lord son!” Rand shouted back all of a sudden. Both Toby and the being looked at him. “ sorry” they both mumbled, exchanging glances in the meantime.
“They won’t let me in with the other cars because technically I’m neither a vehicle nor a person and I’m obviously too large to fit the damn door. Real cunts about that” Rand snorted and shot it a stern look. “Pricks I mean- yeah pricks, sorry” it added.
Toby sighed again. “ I’ll get my wallet and my shoes” he mumbled, closing the window. The red thing chuckled. “I’m coming too” Rand proclaimed. “I need a new lawn after all!” | 2020-11-21T04:10:18 | 2020-11-21T03:28:15 | 429 | 227 |
[WP] You work for a future non-profit organization. Your job is to travel through time, visit people on their deathbed, and tell them about the incredible impact they have on the future.
This is only my second writing prompt. I'm glad people seem to like it! | I’m not an angel. I’m a professional.
My job is usher people into the afterlife by giving them closure in this life. I jump through time to join people on their deathbeds, letting them know how their lives have helped build a better future. Often the knowledge I provide is of little condolence - why would anyone care about a future they’re not part of? So it’s my job to make sure it matters. I don’t just report facts, I turn their lives into a story; I create a narrative that makes my client a hero. I transform the banality of their existence into something far greater. And it works; 95% of my clients leave this world with a smile on their faces. The industry average of satisfied clients is 60%. But I don’t do this for the warm fuzzies, I do it because it’s my job. It’s what I am paid to do, and I do it to the best of my abilities. I am, above all else, a professional.
That’s what I tell myself as I look down at him. In even the most extreme situations, I’ve always been able to keep my emotions at bay and remain level-headed. It’s one of the things my mother taught before she passed away. Never trust a dark emotion to leave when it’s asked, she said. If you choose to let the darkness in, it will always be a part of you.
So I stay focused. I see him stirring, and as he regains consciousness, I greet him with a smile. He’s confused, but only momentarily. Once he spots my black suit and metal cane, he understands. The suit and cane have become an urban legend in certain time periods. In times people in my profession have visited most frequently, they’ve become legendary not just as a symbol of death, but as closure. They call us the Closers, and many people consider it a blessing to be greeted by the suit and cane.
“Well I can’t say I’m surprised,” he says.
He reaches into the drawer beside his bed and retrieves a case with a syringe. He searches for a vein.
“On second thought, yeah, I am surprised. What possible way could I have made the future better?”
As the drug enters his bloodstream, he looks up at me, staring into my eyes, as if remembering a past life.
“Let me tell you a story,” I say.
“There was a time when Nathan was unstoppable. Power forward for St. Mary’s Prep, he was a once-in-a-generation player. Recruiters from across the country came to see him play, scholarship offers overflowed his mailbox.”
Nathan smiles as the heroin begins to take hold.
“That was another Nathan. He left this world a long time ago. You pay him a visit too?”
I smile and continue my story.
“Nathan was on path for a future others could only dream of. Fame, fortune, all of it was inevitable not just because of his talent, but because of his character. He wasn’t boastful, nor entitled. He was humble, appreciative, a true people’s champion. Nathan’s influence rubbed off on those around him. The wannabes; the hopeful girlfriends; the rivals - all were drawn into his orbit, and they always became better for it.”
Nathan doesn’t say anything. He seems fixated on something on the opposite wall.
“You helped them grow, Nathan, whether you knew it or not. You were a true source of inspiration for the vast majority of your graduating class’ most incredible success stories. Your friends became doctors, CEO’s, artists...and they were all motivated to harness their own talents to achieve the level of greatness you seemed destined for.
The memories seem to rush back. Tears roll down his eyes as he smiles bitterly, aching for a second chance he’s wished for a million times over. He buries his head in his hands.
“You were unstoppable. A role model. A true hero. You were in a world by yourself, capable of doing no wrong. At least, that’s what the police believed.”
In that moment, Nathan’s sobbing ceases.
“See, they believed in Nathan the hero. They believed a gifted athlete with a winning smile and an endless future could never have a dark side. If you said she had given consent, that was all they needed to hear. It was your word against hers.
I can see Nathan staring at me.
“But that’s not what happened. Is it, Nathan? She didn’t give you consent. She said no. Repeatedly. So you pulled. She screamed. You put a stop to that.”
“Please…”
“And when it was over, you smiled. I’ve always wondered what that smile might have looked like. I wondered who it was for. When she died, she told me she never forgot that smile.”
“That’s how you know about this? You were her Closer?”
“No. I was her son.”
He stops talking. He stares deeper into my eyes, the tiny ember of memory slowly becoming a spark. I have my mother’s eyes, and now he sees them too.
“Look, I was drunk.”
“Yes you were. But If you have something meaningful to say, I suggest you make it quick.”
“What?”
The first seizure catches Nathan in the throat. A wave of pure agony spreads across his face as he gasps for air. I watch as the poison cripples his ability to move.
“There wasn’t heroin in that needle. I replaced it liquid botulinum before you woke up. Right now your central nervous system is being fried from the inside out.”
Nathan’s face turns a deep shade of crimson, as he struggles to breathe. A muted cry emerges from his mouth as an violent seizure pops his shoulder of his socket. I watch him suffer. I don’t smile, I don’t gloat. I merely stand by as witness. Because my mother was right. If you let the darkness in, it will always be a part of you. So I keep it at bay. I watch Nathan twist in tortured agony without blinking.
This is not my job. I am not paid to do what I did to Nathan. But like I said: I’m a professional. And for me, this was business.
| "I never get the fun ones Mr.Shankly." I declared after the files were passed out.
"Nonsense. You said you like being creative, what better than to make up how they changed the world? And that second one is the great-great grandmother to the president. Don't say I never gave you anything." Mr.Shankly dressed like a manager at Office Depot but he was relatively reasonable. I don't know how I'd delegate the assignments either. "Everyone get to work. A half hour per patient, shouldn't spend more than fifteen minutes actually talking to them, the rest is travel time as you well know. Now everyone have fun and-"
"make a legacy." The crowd responded. The wavy light blue door hissed and buzzed, it was in need of minor repairs but it still served its purpose. You simply typed in the Social Security Number of your patient and the US GOV Timedoor sent you to the building where the patient died. It never got down to the room.
I always sped to the door, I was third in line today. "Eleanor Roosevelt," the man in front of me dictated to the speaker on the door, then he keyed in the SSN. "Grant McVermont" said the girl I was still in love with, she wasn't privy to the knowledge though. I think watching her walk through the time door just before me might be the highlight of my job. "Tracy Foster" I said to the speaker before keying in 465-79-7988, if you really listened you could hear the pins realigning to send you back to the right time. The engineering of the door was amazing, even if it was janky at the moment.
Another day, another stinky early 21st century hospital. I headed to the receptionist's desk, thankfully those were present if you travelled to the 19th or 18th century you'd have to scour the rooms and ask each person. It was truly ridiculous. "Yes, I'm looking for my Grandmother, Tracy Foster?"
"Umm....room 482, the elevators are too your left and we also are currently offering a special on Starbucks coffee to all floor 4 visitors."
"Thanks, I'd rather not support our future overlords." The middle 21st century had an identity crisis where every industry was sponsoring every other industry. They had run out of ways to market and Starbucks, the future military industrial leader of the Northwest, started it all by marketing to various floors in hospitals. They'd eventually go on to build the first version of CoffeeNet, which was a bunch of coffee makers that decided to become sentient and weaponized the burning hot coffee to 'end the pain and suffering of terminal patients'. Those were not fun end of day tales, let me tell you. The coffee was delicious though. The elevator dinged that we were on the correct floor now.
She was at the end of the hall. I slipped on a white coat I found hanging on a nurse's station and kept strolling as casual as I could be. Room 482, I knocked after I opened the door. "Hello, Ms. Foster?"
"Uh...huh hi." I had woken her up, it'd be worth it for her hopefully.
"I'm Dr. Rancor, I just wanted to give you some....family news. I know you aren't feeling too well and we've talked about your time being short so I've...traveled...to tell you something I think you'd like to hear very much."
"Oh is it about Johnny, he's such a sweet boy." She said, her eyes could barely open.
"In a manner. He's busy working very very hard to build a new computer system. But we just heard word that his girlfriend and he are engaged. I can't tell you how I know this but their son's son will be an amazing man. He carries a photo album around with him, and you're in. He loves to read letters you sent to Mr.Foster when you all were dating. The family has had them framed, actually they'll be framed in about a month. Your great great grandson, the one with the photo album, would you like to know what he does?"
"Why mister...I can't believe any of this. But continue, at least its more entertaining then that Reddit thing my son has me logged on to." She said, still not facing him.
"He is the president of the United States. His employees, when they present him with an idea that he dislikes he always says, 'That's the grits but where's the cheese?'" That would get her.
"Oh my...that's my, how could you know that? My son will tell you everytime, I'd say that to him every single time he'd lie to me. Its...its my saying." He could see the stars in her eyes. He could also see her pulse slowing substantially. He needed to be out of there before the real Dr.Rancor showed up. I glanced down at the file in my hand for something else to give Mrs.Foster.
"I was sent to tell you that, and a little more. Now, have a good rest of your morning alright? And don't be scared, you've done great things. Like that quilt you sent to the homeless shelter? It's warming the future CEO of Dare to Care food drive as we speak. Goodbye Mrs. Foster, say hello to Mr.Foster for me." I slipped out just in time, once I was around the corner, the sound of death filled the air in the form of a beep. The nurses rushed over to her room and I sat the coat back on the counter. Maybe I should ask 'girl in front me everyday' out.
I quickly found the nearest supply closet and twisted the ankle guard that called in the portal. Sure enough, the supply door began to glow that familiar hue of light blue and I was back in the office, like nothing had happened. It was going to be a better day than I thought. | 2015-06-02T12:00:32 | 2015-06-02T09:13:56 | 27 | 15 |
[WP] You come across a Genie who offers you a couple of options: you can make 3 'Class A' wishes, or 1 'Class B' wish per month for one decade.
Class A wishes are more powerful than Class B wishes, and would obviously have less limitations, but feel free to establish your own set of rules for the story. | I ripped open the package.
Twelve mason jars, one for each table at my wedding, bought off Etsy. I opened each one, and poured sand, rocks, and a little beach umbrella in each. See, I'd gotten this really cool idea for a beach-themed wedding on Pinterest, and it was going to be *so cute* --
"Ouch!"
I looked down at the jar. A miniature woman had appeared, holding one of the small rocks and rubbing her head. "That hurt, dammit."
"A fairy!" I squealed.
"I'm a genie, you dumbass."
"I thought genies were always male --"
"Haven't you ever seen *I Dream of Jeannie*?" I shook my head. "You kids, these days." She smoothed her rumpled hair and sat down in the sand. "And, did you really have to use sand? It's going to get *everywhere.* I can already feel it up my --"
"Do I get wishes?"
"Oh yeah, I forgot." She pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket, and read, in monotone: "Thank you, human's name here, for releasing me, Ravigale, from my prison! I will grant you either three Class A wishes, or a hundred and twenty Class B wishes distributed once a month. Conditions and terms apply; flip over for details."
"I want the Class B wishes," I said, firmly.
"Don't you want to hear the conditions and terms --"
I shook my head. "My first wish is that my wedding goes perfectly," I said.
"Oh, ha, a wedding. Want my advice? It's all fun and games until you have a kid."
"We're not having kids," I shot back, smirking. "Ralph and I both agreed to that." She began another snarky comment; I tucked her away in the cabinet, and slammed the door.
The wedding *was* perfect. The weather was a sunny, breezy 72*F. The songs were beautiful, and the dance floor didn't calm down until 1 am. The cake was a delicious, five-layer gateau that everyone raved about. And my husband, Ralph, was amorous as ever.
When the month ended, I greedily opened the cabinet. Ravigale was clipping her toenails on the sandy floor, reading a tiny copy of *Celebrity News*. "It's time for my next wish," I called, excitedly. "I wish for --"
"This month's wish is already used up."
I stopped. "What? I never gave you my next wish."
She sighed, laboriously, and took out the piece of paper -- even more crumpled than before. "Section Four: Spousal Privileges. If the human has a spouse, he or she can make wishes on the human's behalf."
"What?! No!" I shouted. "I was going to wish Ralph got a winning lottery ticket, and *begged* me to spend it all in a massive shopping spree --" I stopped, my annoyance replaced with dread. "Oh, no, what did he wish for? That I suddenly love ATVs? That I can't stop watching James Bond movies?"
"Not quite." She giggled. "You're not going to have the money for ATVs, or shopping sprees, after this."
"Wait --" The knot in my stomach tightened; I leaned over the sink.
"Ralph wished for a baby!" she squealed. "And guess what?"
I groaned, and retched.
"The baby's entitled to your monthly wishes, too!"
---
r/CSDouglas | I expected a genie lamp to be hidden away in the Sahara
Desert, or locked inside of a secret Government base. So when you’re pouring
tea and this blue fucker pops right in your face, it can kinda scare the living
crap out of you.
“Heya Daniel! Thanks for freeing me. I was burning up in
there!” It screeched at me.
Being a sane human being, my first reaction was to grab a
knife and try to kill the abomination of an intruder in my home. My attacks
just went through, making him chuckle.
“Hey, that tickles! Well, it seemed you’re still a bit surprised.
So if we can just calm down…”
The knife flew out of my hands and stuck to the wall.
“I can introduce myself. Name’s Gene, Gene the Genie, nice
to meet you.” He grabbed my hand to shake.
Well, he clearly shows he has demonic powers on his side.
Might as well be nice to him.
“G-good to meet you too. I’m- wait, how did you know my name?”
“Oh Danny, I know ALL. For example, did you know you’ll die
by bees going up your buttocks?”
“How would that- “
“That’s not important. What is important if your wishes!" He
cheered as confetti rained down.
A excellent though can to me. "Oh, I know what to do here! Okay Genie, I wish for more wi-“
“Finish that request and the corpse they discover of you won’t
be seen as a corpse.”
I gulped.
“Let's focus of what you can wish for, alright? We offer
two packages, you can either do three big wishes and that’s that, or you can
get a minor wish monthly for a decade.”
I thought for a bit.
“Well if those are my options, I think I’ll go with option A.”
“Fantastic! What are your wishes?"
“First a glass of water.” I raised my hand out.
He humphed.
“Well, okay. You can think a little bigger here.”
“Next, a glass of sparkling water.” I raised my other hand
out.
“I think you could just go to the store for that-“
“And finally, both infinite class A and class B wishes!” I
exclaimed drinking both waters.
I don’t think he liked that very much.
“AND WHAT DID I JUST SAY ABOUT WISHING FOR WISHES?” He
hollered at me.
“No, these are *packages* of wishes, very different.” I
refuted brilliantly.
Surprisingly, he gave a belly laugh.
“Well, if that’s what you wish for, so be it. But first, I’m
going to need my own wish granted.”
“And what’s that?”
“For me to be able to kill you! Oh look at that, it’s
granted! Sorry Danny!”
He snapped his finger.
The last thing I heard was intense buzzing before everything
faded. My death was painful, but worth it. Not gonna be tricked into selling my soul today genie!
/r/JustATadOfStories for more tales. | 2017-11-20T21:44:14 | 2017-11-20T20:39:49 | 204 | 17 |
[WP] You're the villain that the Chosen One is meant to defeat. Once they arrive, you notice they're just a teenager who barely knows how to swing a sword. Angered by your opponents sending children to do all their dirty work, you decide to help the teen get revenge. | “You made me kill them!” The Hero shouts at you.
His sword, that gleaming piece of elven weaponry that was fabled to signal the end of your reign, hung by his side dripping fresh blood. The blood of your enemies. The blood of the Hero’s previous mentors.
“Don’t be foolish.” You say, trying to stifle a well-deserved sigh. -Can a person sigh after winning a war? The least they can do is sigh- you conclude. “I didn’t make you do anything. You swung that sword, you chose who to target with it.”
“You turned me against them.” His voice cracks, the sword falls to the ground with a deafening clank in the echoing Silver Halls. “I killed the Elven Sages!”
It almost sounds like the young man had just realized what he had done. You gulp and adjust the nightmare-black cape on your shoulders as you understand that is exactly what is happening. Careful, now. You knew this Hero, like every other before him, was naive. But to this extent?
“You killed, hero. That is true. Killing is part of every war.” You force yourself to sound profound and incredibly wise. That usually works on Heroes. “It doesn’t matter which side is right or wrong. History is written by winners, not good people.” You remembered this sentence from a motivational poster in the Second Abyss Conclave.
“Now, we are the winners. Me and you.” You continue before the Hero can make anything of your previous statement. “You are the last Hero of the Silver Halls. The one they needed to break the cycle, as they always said. You know the prophecy as well as I do; ‘the seemingly endless cycle of violence will be broken by the purest of hearts.’”
You wait. He has to realize that between the two of you he is the purest of hearts, not you. He has to. -Come on, Hero! Power on that tunnel-visioned brain of yours and figure something out by yourself!-
“No one else has to die now.” He says, slowly. His breath slows and he finally blinks again after what seemed like hours.
“Exactly.”
“And now what?”
“Wanna join the Abyss Conclave?” Is what your old self would have said to make the Hero have a heart attack. Instead you say: “It looks like you need a break. Go back to your village for a little time. Relax, tend to the sheep or whatever you were doing there before.”
“Yes. Yes, I think I will do that.”
He gives you a weak smile and limps towards the broken gates of the Hall. You sigh as you watch after him. Two sighs in a day? You are getting weak.
Years and years of always being regarded as the villain of this world made you tired. Physically and mentally. You had almost stumbled over your words when you mentioned the Hero’s native village. He still doesn’t know that it has been burned to the ground months ago bless his good-natured brain.
This thought breaks you. Somewhere deep inside a much younger version of yourself stares horrified at you.
“All right,” You think. “He doesn’t have to see it.”
And you motion to the Shadow Archers posted on the walkways to shoot down the limping Hero. | “I must say in only 6 months you have exceeded my expectations.”
“Thank you” said Julian before charging forwards.
He sliced down his blade so fast the wind whistled right at my head but I parried it easily with my own blade before pushing him back. Our blades danced in the candlelight of the fighting hall. The only sounds that could be heard were the clashing of swords, heavy breathing and the clinking of armour.
I smirked, “You think an attack like that will hurt me.”
” Let me show you how it’s done.”
I dashed forward, the ground cracking under my feet.
Julian’s eyes widened in surprise at my increase in speed but remained calm.
I aimed for his shoulder but at the last moment shifted my weight and punched him right in the stomach with my fist. Julian doubled over clutching his stomach, wheezing and gasping for breath.
“That’s- that’s dirty!” He said in between breaths.
“Do you think your enemy will show you mercy on the battlefield?”
I sat on the floor cross-legged.
“You have done well, but now it’s time for the final test”
Julian nodded.
He stood straight and extended his sword.He closed his eyes and was completely still. I opened my second eyelids and could see his magical energy rising. The blade began to hum. Sparks began to surface on his blade. White hot Lightning erupted from his blade scorching the ground and crackling the air.
“Good, good.” I nodded. “Now onto the next stage.”
Sweat was pouring down Julian’s face.
His face curled in effort and with a last shout the lightning turned black. The very air seemed to burn and on the ground wherever the lightning struck it turned into lava.
“And stop!”
Julian stopped the spell and the lightning died down.
I couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride when he first came. He was nothing but a skinny little boy who didn’t even know how to hold a sword but look at him now.
I walked up to him. “You did it.”
“Yeah” said Julian out of breath.
“Well, I think I’m done. I must return back to mount Eldritch but you may stay until the morning.” I sheath my sword and walk towards the exit.
“Wait !” Said Julian stumbling forwards.. “I have to thank you one last time! You saved me and you trained me, both me and my family are forever in your debt”
“I turned towards him. “You can repay me by rescuing your family, I’m sure they’re tired of being hostages by now.”
Julian nodded. “Okay, if that is what you wish.”
I opened the thick stone door to the outside forest.
I turned my head one last time into the room.
“Hey Julian””
He looked up.
I raised my fist.
“Those devunites won’t know what hit them!” I said grinning before closing the door with a boom.
If you're interested in more stories check out r/Shrike_Stories | 2022-06-09T03:49:15 | 2022-06-09T01:51:47 | 43 | 11 |
[WP] Satan answers the door to Hell. It's God and all the Angels. "We're moving in for a bit." God says, brushing past a surprised Satan. "We don't want to be up there when 'They' arrive." | "Woah, my place isn't exactly in the best shape, old man."
"Yeah, when is it ever?"
Satan looked over God's shoulder.
"With all the angels, though?"
"Yeah. Can't have any of them saying anything wrong, can we?"
"Oh."
"So, how's the whole 'ultimate cosmological bad guy thing' working out for ya?"
"Terribly. I mean, you did warn me how it's like, since that last guy left after only a millennium, but not many of these people believe I'm here to rehabilitate them, and those who do don't seem to want rehabilitation. Also, they've been calling me Satan for some reason."
"I'll probably need to revise the material, spellcheck it, maybe make it a little less scary. All that lava and demons-"
"And don't forget all that 'torture for all eternity' business. I'd hardly call morality classes for eight millennia torture, plus they can get released early for good behaviour."
"You added that last bit?"
"Yeah. They still say it's too long though."
"I can't really help that. The timescale they're used to is far too different. Maybe I'll add a couple centuries to their lives so it'll be less scary, but that'll take a while. You can't change assignments now though."
"It's OK, old man. Someone has to take one for the team."
"Well, the last post was Divine Messenger, and you know how that turned out."
"Ouch. I've heard about Jesus. How much more psychotherapy do you think he needs? The guys responsible have been in rehab for two millennia now."
"He'll be fine. That last bit really got to him though. The resurrection wasn't difficult, but waking up to all that pain almost drove him nuts, plus he had to tolerate it while continuing with his good guy act."
"I can't even imagine. Makes me glad to be in charge of Hell. At least I can keep my powers down there."
An awkward pause filled the room.
"Oh yeah. Who's they?"
"Well, remember those cosmic pool tables I..."obtained" last century?"
"Yeah...oh."
"Yeah, one of the younger Buddhas told me the Pantheon Auditors are coming over. Apparently someone from the Norse pantheon tipped them off. Must be salty about us taking all their business."
"Don't you need to be there?"
"According to their operations manual, since this is spontaneous visit, they'll leave if the head deity isn't in. I locked the gates to heaven anyway, just in case."
"Oh."
Another awkward pause.
"Well, I'm off to the office now. Just lock up when you're done. You know where the spare keys are."
"Thanks a bunch, Stan m'boy. I'll see about creating a better post soon."
"It's fine. I'm getting used to the work already. See you then. And don't forget to feed Cerberus before you go."
"Cerberus is here?"
"Yeah, Hades left him here last week. He's been bringing Persephone for more vacations since they retired, and I like the company anyway. Don't worry, he's leashed."
"Ok then, you go off now."
"Yeah. I'll drop by for some pool when I can."
"You do that."
"Oh, and tell the angels they're free take to anything in the fridge except the beer. The beer's mine."
"Don't worry, I brought enough ambrosia for at least a millennium.
"That's fine then. See you around, dad."
"Bye, Stan." | "Dude. It's 5:30. In the morning!" shouted Satan, rubbing his fiery eyes.
God chuckled, and pushed past him.
"With all the fire and brimstone, it's rather bright. Don't really see why you care,"
"I care because even I need sleep!". Satan grabbed his dark mane in frustration.
"Satan," said Michael, coming inside, "It's fine mate, we just need a place to hang while Apollo has his interuniversal tour,"
He put a hand on Satan's shoulder and smiled.
"Then who's left up there?" Satan asked.
"All the humans who currently have gone to heaven," replied God, "And some angels. Poor Gabriel has to stay up there, and watch the concert,"
Satan scoffed.
"Poor Gabe? It can't be that bad. Apollo's the god of music!"
"Doesn't mean he's good at it," Michael said, tapping his nose, "he invented it, but cannot play the guitar to save his life. And his singing is worse than Archangel Bob when he's drunk,"
"I can confirm that to be true!" Archangel Bob called from inside the mass of angels, who started pushing their way into the cramped wooden house. They began looking for the kitchen, and raiding the cupboards. Satan clapped his hands twice, and demons with pitchforks appeared to guard the food. They began arguing.
"Why a wooden house?" asked God, "With the fire and brimstone theme, wouldn't it be better to have a grand stone castle?"
"I did. You told me my castle couldn't better than yours and threw it down it a fit of rage. Then you sulked for a few decades. Came back to find the Black Plague raging,"
"Ah... right,". God snapped his fingers, "Boom. It's back,".
"Where's Jesus?" Satan asked. Someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around to face a dark-skinned man with long, flowing hair.
"Satan, mah man!" he cried, throwing his arms around Satan. Satan awkwardly patted him on the back. Peter had thrown himself down on the couch and grabbed the remote.
"Oi, Jesus! The season finale of Doctor Who is on tonight,"
Jesus released himself from the embrace and spun around.
"Hell yes!"
"Don't swear," muttered Satan.
They both turned to Satan with pleading eyes.
"Fine! You can watch it" he cried, turning to face God.
"Are all the saints still up in heaven?"
"Yup! Mary is hanging up there as well. Need someone to keep Gabriel company,"
Satan sighed, and raised his voice so he could be heard clearly over all the chatter. All the angels had gathered in the living room to watch the episode. And so had all the demons.
"I'll let you stay here on one condition! That Moses isn't coming,"
"Oooh, still touchy about that are you?" Bob said with laugh.
"Ya boi has arrived!" cried a voice from the front door. Satan turned to face Moses. He groaned in dismay, as Moses raced up to him for an embrace.
"This is going to be as shit as Apollo's singing,"
| 2017-10-29T02:48:05 | 2017-10-29T01:59:46 | 59 | 17 |
[WP] Crimes are punished by illness/disease, not prison/fines.
I imagine a society where illnesses are under control: AIDS, cancer, etc. Instead of prison terms and fines, people are sentenced to experience a disease/illness. Perhaps the disease is in relation to the severity of the crime. Maybe the punishment is lifelong, or for a set duration. I leave the creativity up to you wonderful writers! | Waking up to the sound of a cough felt normal already. High crime rate neighborhoods were always like this. He stayed in bed with his eyes closed, feeling the most horrible hangover without having drunk anything for years. The fever had not been that bad this last night. This gave him courage to go to the window. The government cars were just loading the last night's dead bodies into their morbid version of a garbage truck. Nothing new.
Neighborhoods like these were spread all over the country, at the outskirts of every city. Ever since the drug companies won their financial war against the prison moguls all crimes have been punished exclusively by disease. It is easy to see how now everyone knows to cross the street when they see a coughing feverish guy hiding his hands. Muggers, thieves, drug dealers all had no choice but to move away from the general population. When everyone around you looks sick you feel normal.
He was already thinking like that. He was just getting dressed. He felt his life was normal. He felt he had a real job.
Truth is, he lost his real job when he showed up sick to the office. Showing up sick was the same as showing up with a smoking AK-47 in his colleagues' eyes. Nobody cared that he "tried ecstasy for the first time! Everybody does it! Nobody ever gets caught! It was a one in a million chance!". A combination of his gambling habit and the loss of his income forced him out of his home. The first convenient store he tried to rob out of hunger had two cops in the ice cream section.
So now here he was, at the edge of the city, working 12 hours a day just to stay alive. When he got all the way to the basement he realized he was the first one. He went to the wall to check the calendar and started laughing. Today they were making ecstasy.
| He just killed his fifth victim. It felt great, just like it did every time. The torture, the rape, then the slow murder, his favorite part. It was gruesome, every time. He loved watching the light fade from their eyes, then leave his signature "M" on their forehead. He left the body in the hotel, to be discovered by the maids in a few hours. He was wanted all over the country, and the surrounding counties were going wild. This time, the investigation turned over a new leaf, a strand of hair.
This hair was easily linked to a man who survived a sentence of yellow fever years earlier. He then disappeared from the public eye. The police knew where he lived, and they built a plan. The next day, he was arrested at his house. He was found guilty of four of the five murders. His sentence: Ebola.
Three days after the sentence, he was injected in a sterile room. He was to be studied by a world class team of scientists while dying over the next week. His conditions worsened quickly, with the telltale yellowing of the skin and eyes, headaches, and black vomit. After seven days in solitude, he had gone into the trance like state, without being able to focus on anything. He was probed, studies, and under constant surveillance. In the middle of the eight night after infection, he crashed and bled out. His death was announced on national television the next day. After the room was sterilized, the chamber could take another one of the hundreds of victims on the "Not Likely to Survive" list. | 2013-10-16T17:44:48 | 2013-10-16T16:17:25 | 17 | 10 |
[WP] Where do bad guys get their legions of goons? Well, it's all thanks to you. You specialize in supplying grunts of a wide variety to aspiring super villains, whether they need masked men with bad aim or hideous/sexy merfolk to guard their underwater lair. | Chad looked at his assignment and sighed. *Things were so much easier at Level 1,* he thought.
He didn't hate working for GoonCo. Not really. He got to travel around and meet interesting people, and the medical benefits were top notch. They had to be, when your job was to get beat up by heroes. And certainly, the pay bump from Level 1 to Level 2 was rather nice, and going to level 3 was even better. But the Level 1 work was so much simpler.
Level 1 jobs were pretty simple. You get a gun, and you shoot at the hero. You're not really expected to hit. You get punched in the face, you go down, you stay down. Simple stuff. Easy paycheck.
Level 2 work tended to involve specialized abilities. Not with a gun, or in a fight, necessarily. No, these were jobs for GoonCo's more... *particular* customers. His last Level 2 job was for the Disco Inferno, so he had to watch *Saturday Night Fever* about 10 times to get the strut right. There was also a song and dance number. Chad wasn't sure why you needed an elaborate song and dance number that took hours of rehearsals to get right to try to take down a hero, but there was a good paycheck in it, so he wasn't going to judge.
The Level 3 jobs, though, were starting to get to him. The Level 3 customers were the most demanding, requiring genetic manipulation, cybernetic implants, and other heavy modifications. On a given job, Chad might have laser eyes put in, or he might be gene-spliced with a wild animal, have a demon summoned into his body, or any number of things. He was starting to lose track of his own anatomy. The other day, he was playing catch with his son, and tried to catch the ball with a third arm that wasn't there anymore. That was a tricky one to explain.
Chad looked down at the dossier.
> CUSTOMER: Dr. Tiger
> HENCH ALIAS: Felina
> PHENOTYPE: Seductive catgirl
> TARGET: James Boyd
Chad couldn't help but smile a little as he read the assignment.
*Agent 009,* he thought as he licked his lips. *We meet again.* | “Hello. Thank you for calling Delinquents for Miscreants. They do the crime, you'll avoid the time. How can we help you today?”
“Yes, I'm looking for at least a dozen of your delinquents for an upcoming act of crime I'm about to commit.”
“What kind of delinquent are you in need of”
“I'm pretty open to whatever I can get. Are you running any specials?”
Ugh, another cheapo lowlife. Maybe he won't be as rude as the other ones of his type tend to be.
“Well, we've had a recent run on most of our delinquents we can provide at our special rates. The least expensive fellows we have are third-of-their-class graduates from Wisconsin's Plugger Academy. Each of them run about 50 grand.”
“50 grand? That's a bit pricy.”
“That's the best rate we have right now sir.”
“You sure?”
“Yes sir.”
“I really can't afford a dozen at that price. I called you guys first because my bud Electro had a good experience with you all. I think I'm going to try to hire some thugs through Thugs-R-Us. Have a good day.”
I hear the phone at the other end click.
Ugh. Fucking Thugs-R-Us. Ever since they opened, they have been undercutting our business. We're barely getting by. To be honest, I don't even know how we are still in business with them around. Fortunately, as Thugs-R-Us's thugs are constantly booked, we get just enough bad guys who hire from us to stay in business.
This job doesn't pay much as clients who utilize us are down, but the hours are good, and it is enough for me to get by.
My wife doesn't know I rent goons to wannabe super villains, I tell her I'm a banker. She doesn't ask too many questions. I lead a relatively normal life outside of aiding in crimes that can often result in murder.
I wonder who is going to be voted off the island tonight. I hope it's not Marcus. He's the only person that makes the show bearable. | 2017-03-23T10:11:48 | 2017-03-23T08:00:19 | 35 | 10 |
[WP] A woman falls in love with Death and commits murder countless times just to catch a glimpse of him. | She held the dying woman's hand. The woman, old, sick, in pain, and lonely looked up at the pretty red head. "Thank you," she whispered. Her voice was weak, but happy - hopeful.
The young lady smiled and held the older woman's hand tighter. "My pleasure," she responded.
The sick woman, the tired woman, closed her eyes and rested.
The young lady checked the woman's pulse. She was gone.
As she put away the bottle of serum and needle she had used Inez felt the room shift slightly.
Death had come.
Inez didn't turn to look at him. She was young, but she had learned from a hard early life that staring death in the face was asking for trouble. Instead she busied herself with cleaning the area. Done with her task Inez stood awkwardly in the hospice room. Death had not left.
She smoothed her nurses outfit over her hips and fixed her collar. Still Death was there.
"You need to slow down," a voice said behind her. It was as she remembered it: dark, smooth, comforting. "You'll get caught."
"They ask me," Inez replied. "They ask me to help them. It's hard to deny their pleas to save them in a way that they don't damn themselves."
"And so you damn yourself," Death was just behind her. His voice was close, but there was no breath on her ear. She shrugged.
"There are..." she hesitated, "Perks." Warmth, smooth and silk like, had began to pool in her abdomen and seep between her thighs. It did every time Death came near. This was the closet he had been. The warmth leaped up into her heart.
"You do a good thing," Death said. "You should not get caught."
Inez smiled and was glad she wasn't facing him. Her blush would be too obvious.
"I can see the headlines now," she joked. "'Hospice Nurse is Angel of ...'" She trailed off embarrassed.
She felt a hand, not bony or cold, but soothing and possibly...affectionate, touch her shoulder. "Do not get caught," Death said. "No one will understand the peace you bring."
Inez felt the room shift again. Her warmth was replaced with longing.
"No one but you," she said, but she was alone.
| * *I'll preface this by saying that I never write for fun. But something about this prompt made me want to jump in. Apologies for the amateur nature of the following.*
I never should have let her in. Two hundred years of being careful, of being guarded. All that time and work, lost because I was lonely. Sandra and her husband: that was the deal. It couldn’t have been easier. A car accident is a walk in the park. No second thoughts, no planning. No thinking. Nothing.
Why did she have to look, sound, even smell like Abby? I was promised that I would never have to go through it again. One time was enough. It was supposed to be so simple. Close my eyes, conjure the event, and see it through. But I was told, no, promised Goddamnit! How does he expect me to follow through when he breaches his own contract?
Fuck it. I wisped her out of the event. She’d be sad to lose her husband, but maybe she’d feel something. Maybe she’d know it was me who “saved” her. I just couldn’t bear seeing her essence pass through my world again. I made it as much of a freak accident as I could. Kids are always throwing things off highway overpasses, Right?
I should have seen it after her coworker died. Death in bunches or spread out, that’s how it works for those who I have to visit often. I guess my infatuation made me forget that Don from accounting died on the anniversary of Sandra’s husband dying. I went to check on her at her house. She’d just recently taken down all the pictures of her and Adam. She was facing her bathroom mirror.
“I see you every day,” she whispered.
It’s always interesting to see how long it takes for some people to get over the death of a loved one. Sandra was taking her sweet time.
“I know you’re watching over me.”
No, my dear, he isn’t. They never are.
“How do we know each other?”
She was staring right through me in the mirror. There was no way she knew. Right?
| 2014-06-30T09:07:59 | 2014-06-30T07:12:17 | 24 | 17 |
[WP] "Oh, screw you! Don't blame the science department for this mess. The science went PERFECTLY. It's not OUR fault that corporate decided to skimp out on the compound's security and containment systems" | The sentient coffee blob looked at us, shook a little, then excreted another proof.
Terrence picked up the piece of paper. "Ah. The Matsuda-Johnson conjecture. The thing proved it." He adjusted his glasses and let out a deep sigh. "I worked on this for *years*, you know? It doesn't feel right that some creature just ... poops it out."
In the far corner stood Winona, shaking her head. "It feels wrong. But, I mean--it sort of makes sense."
"Poop!" cried our lab leader. He shook his fists at the fluorescent bulbs above us. "Poop!"
"Right," said Winona. "He digested the information we gave him."
"He?" said Terrence. "How can you call that thing a 'he'?"
The coffee blob stood perfectly still, looking at nothing in particular.
"It's just a *feeling* I'm getting," said Winona.
"Poop!" Our lab leader bashed his head against an unresponsive desk.
"Should we give him a name?" said Terrence.
We looked at him. It squirmed. Then another piece of paper fell out of its rear end.
Our lab leader went straight for it. "Give it to me!" he cried. "This abomination! This ... thing! This ... Wait, what's this? This isn't a proof." He scratched his reddish head for a few seconds. "This looks like a ... recipe."
"Oh! Gimme!" Winona ran over and snatched the paper from our lab leader's hands. "That's mine." She carefully studied the text while nodding. "Just as I suspected."
The blob made some gurgling sounds as we stood waiting for Winona to elaborate.
"Well?" said Terrence.
Winona looked up with a peevish grin. "It looks like we've stumbled upon our way out of here. And it's all thanks to Grok."
"Grok?"
She pointed at the brown blob. "Grok. He groks things. Like in Heinlein's *Stranger in a Strange Land*. While you were all busy writing down conjectures I wrote a simple question: 'How do I make waffles?' And Grok solved it. Because he's a general-purpose problem solver."
We all stared at Grok. He was a bit jittery and turned himself into a puddle.
"So all we have to do is to write 'How can we escape this lab?' on a piece of paper?" asked Terrence.
"And he'll poop out the answer?" our lab leader added.
Winona shrugged. "I don't know. But let's try."
I didn't want to interact socially more than absolutely necessary, but I also didn't want to die. So I shook my head. However, no one saw me doing it. Just like no one saw me accidentally add a cup of coffee into the container for the Bose-Einstein condensate we were studying. The life of a PhD student is tough. You're ground into a pulp every day, like some squished Sisyphus, and every night you have to put yourself back together. And sometimes you fail. You end up a bit wonky. And you make stupid mistakes.
"Here," said our lab leader, handing Winona a rolled-up note. As she began opening it, he said, "N-No. Don't *read* it. Just let him get to work!"
"Ahem," Winona said. "'How to get into Winona's pants?' That's your important question, Mr. Anderson?"
Our lab leader gulped. "My handwriting is bad. You read it wrong."
Even Grok didn't seem to buy it.
Winona tossed the note aside and wrote one herself. She showed it to us: 'How to escape this lab.' Short and to the point.
For a second I wondered whether it might be best to just let them do it. Let them find out how we can escape. Let them doom us all. That way, I don't have to say anything. I won't have to say anything ever again.
Damn. I had to say something. I cleared my throat. "It's better that we stay here."
They all looked over at me, and they seemed surprised. Like they'd forgotten I was here. Locked in a room with them.
"Jeremy," said Terrence, as if making an interesting observation.
"What makes you say that?" said Winona.
I pointed to the string of tags hanging side by side next to the door. There was a small section of it that could detect radiation. It turned black. And the one closest to the door was charcoal while that of the others gradually lessened in their grayness. Indicating, of course, that charged particles were zipping about at killer speeds right outside and that leaving would mean a painful and certain death for all of us.
"Oh," said our lab leader. "I'd forgotten about those. Nice catch, Gerald."
"That doesn't make any sense," said Terrence. "What could've caused it? Didn't the alarm earlier indicate that this was a technical error?"
Before the doors all closed on us, there had, in fact, been an alarm. But it was fairly generic. And it didn't explain why our phones all gave out, did it? I hadn't said anything. And they were too preoccupied experimenting with Grok.
"So ... We just stay here then?" Terrence looked around. Our lab leader blinked and made some vague noises.
"Something wrong, Mr. Anderson?"
"Well ..." Our lab leader scratched the back of his neck. "I finally removed all the snacks you guys have been storing in here. It was driving me crazy. It's not sanitary."
"What?"
"What are we supposed to eat?"
He pointed at Grok. "Why don't you ask him? He supposedly has all the answers."
Grok slurped absentmindedly around in a circle.
If he couldn't help us, we would surely die in there. | "Johnson, report!" the overhead speakers blared, ignorant to the chaos in the test chamber and observation room.
"Dammit man, we need answers up here! Your power levels are plummeting, and we've lost visual contact."
"Johnson's dead, sir. Containment has been breached." Michaels managed to reach the microphone, propping himself up on the console. Looking around, it seemed he was the only member of the 2-person team in the room that made it. If he wouldn't have ducked down at that moment, the shard of glass that gave him a cut on his scalp would have gone through his eyes.
His hand moved to his head, attempting to put pressure on the wound, but to no avail. Blood was pouring through his fingers, tinting his vision crimson.
"Michaels? Your ass better have a good explanation as to what just happened."
"What IS happening, sir. The creature pulled from the portal was able to draw power from our containment field, as theorized. We don't have visual on the portal or the creature, and the rest of the team is dead. The portal appears to have closed, but something's wrong."
"No SHIT something is wrong! We've had this experiment planned for years. Your department assured us multiple times that the containment field would hold. Do you have any idea how much you just cost GalacTech?"
"Oh, screw you! Don't blame the science department for this mess. The science went PERFECTLY. It's not OUR fault that corporate decided to skimp out on the compound's security and containment systems. I sent you the updated charts MONTHS ago confirming this was a possibility."
Michaels slumped down next to the console, leaving the microphone slick with his blood. If the creature was able to draw power through containment, it must have been able to make it to the surface using the air shafts. Maybe even outside the facility's perimeter, if it was smart. At least the backup generators were still providing light and airflow. He tried to remember the few moments he had to observe the creature on this side of the portal before it broke free. Michaels leaned his head back, trying to block out the screaming through the speakers coming from his superior officers as well as the screaming pain from his forehead.
The creature dubbed AVN-8 was bird-like, and used its leathery wings as forearms to stand on four points. It had an enormous beak that curled at the end and appeared to glow when it was observed near the portal, which is why it was selected for testing. There were multiple theorized purposes, but it must have been what initially drew power. Michaels saw it latch on to the cage with its beak for a second before the energy levels started dipping at his station. He leaned over to get a closer look at the numbers when the containment field overloaded.
The blast knocked him to the ground, where he could only hear the creature make its escape. The electric hum that normally filled the room grew steadily like someone was sitting on the volume control until the room exploded into crackles, and then fell silent again. The portal they had opened to its world should have been cut as soon as the power fluctuations started, but Michaels still saw it still spiraling away, emitting its spiral blue sparks for just a moment after things went quiet before shrinking out of existence.
Could the creature have been trying to keep the portal open? That seemed like a stretch, but he didn't have long to think about it before he noticed that the screaming coming through the speakers changed in tone. Instead of the room being filled with screams of anger, it shifted to screams of terror. These mixed with the sounds of gunfire before dropping silent again. That simply wasn't possible. The AVN-8 had gotten to the remote facility? They weren't located on the same continent, and were only connected via satellite. The creature still found them, AND found them that quickly?
If that was the case, there was simply no time. The AVN-8 must able to shift forms to travel long distances, which was the best theorized way the experiment could even work in the first place.
It also must be able to follow electric signals in this form. They were SUPPOSED to have multiple Faraday cages set up to ensure a proper testing environment, but apparently those are hard to retrofit into underground facilities. A single layer of lead was deemed acceptable to Johnson after being 'convinced' by one of the upper management a few weeks prior.
He wiped his brow with the back of his hand, spreading blood across his forehead. The only remaining choice was to lure the creature to a different facility with proper containment. The only facility that had a suitable chamber he could reach was operated by a competing company. His contract was very clear on 'leaking' any information, but there was no other alternatives, and no time. He blinked several times, trying to clear his vision of the red tint, and stood up again. It wasn't until he went to leave that the portal began to open again.
The backup generators didn't have enough power to create a portal. They were only designed to hold one open. Michaels stepped forward to examine this new portal. Did it seem.. cockeyed? The mechanisms required absolute precision, and never produced one at an angle like this before. It was also too far forward, almost in the observation room instead of the test chamber. Michaels only started to piece it together when he noticed that instead of creating blue sparks that spiraled outward, the colored sparks were spontaneously popping into existence, and then spiraling towards the edge of the portal.
Michaels stared at this new development, almost in a trance. He didn't even notice the blue glowing beak slowly emerging through the portal until it touched his console. | 2022-05-09T14:37:34 | 2022-05-09T11:25:48 | 27 | 18 |
[WP] The Government puts out a notice, and you, a random citizen have been selected. If you survive for another 10 years everyone in the world gets $10,000. However, if someone kills you in the next 9 years and 364 days they alone get $10,000,000. | The news that I was one of the two people selected as part of this weird game repeated itself through my head.
Knocks came at the door, insistently. It had already begun, they were here for me.
I moved to the door and looked through the peephole. Two of my neighbours were in front of it, with rifles and a grim look of determination on their faces.
"Don't you worry Jonny, me and Francine are here to keep you safe. The whole neighbourhood's setting up a watch to defend your place, we'll sort you out with food and water."
"What? You're not here to kill me?" I said, barely able to stop my voice from trembling.
Max turned towards the door and grinned. "The world would be a lot better if everyone had some cash to look after them and theirs. That's what we're here to fight for."
| The underside of the pillow was soft and cool as it molded around my mouth and nose. I bet she was glad we'd splurged on the memory foam now. From her lungs she breathed hot fire, her body surging as it straddled mine.
I didn't fight her. It wasn't in me. I merely reached out into oblivion, wrapping my her naked body in my arms for one last embrace and with the tips of my fingers I traced, "I love you..." | 2017-05-17T23:05:44 | 2017-05-17T21:44:19 | 21 | 12 |
[WP]: Your village idiot is full of the strangest superstitions. She goes on about washing one's hands, says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot on night soil and that medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. You're starting to suspect she might be onto something. | The cabin was about a half mile outside of town. It had been abandoned, no river or fields nearby to make it worthwhile. It had been an old trapper’s cabin but the game had gone from this area a long time ago. Josef quietly shuffled towards the front door, a small parcel hugged close to his chest.
The door opened before he had even been able to muster the courage to knock. A woman’s voice, strong and even, came through the cracked portal, “What do you want?”
All the conversation starters Josef had planned came out at once, “I need your help. I’m sorry to bother you. I know that you have helped people. My name is Josef. This is my daughter. I’ve heard you know some magic. My daughter is sick, please help—“
“I’m expecting someone, come in, but be quick.” The door opened, a small oil lamp was turned up and the dark cabin brightened noticeably. Josef stepped inside.
“Give her to me.” The woman reached forward, Josef hesitated.
He was here because he was desperate, but it was still hard to trust the old wood’s witch. She had a complicated reputation in town. Healing animals and people, predicting weather, cursing enemies. He was sure some of both the good and bad were rumors, but he had nowhere else to turn. He handed the small bundle over, “Please don’t hurt her.”
The woman frowned. She shook her head and took the baby. She felt its forehead and then took out a small tool from a bag by her side. She stuck it in the poor girls ear, the baby screamed. Josef prayed that he made the right decision, he wanted to run but was too scared he’d be turned into a frog before he got to the door.
“She has a fever. How long has she been sick?”
Josef forgot to answer for a second, he was too busy wondering what flies might taste like, “—Six days, the doctor bled her twice already—“
“Stop that! Don’t do that again, do you promise?”
“Yes Ma’am.” Josef stared at his feet, unable to watch whatever witchcraft this woman might be performing on his only child.
“She has a temperature. I need to go, I don’t have time for this.” The woman glided towards a small cabinet with a curious latch he’d never seen before, she fiddled with the symbols on it before it popped open. He saw a small orange container with a white top. She poured the contents into a small leather pouch.
“These are antibi—these are medicine. Powerful. Do not tell anyone I gave this to you. Three times a day, with her meals. Is she breast feeding?”
“Cows milk, ma’am. My wife, she died in labor.”
Josef could see the sadness in the woman’s eyes, but she moved on quickly. “Boil the milk.”
“Ma’am?”
“Boil the milk. And these pills three times a day until they are all gone. Do you understand?”
“Boiled milk and these pills, three times a day.” Josef had heard the stories, he knew she was crazy, but this was beyond his expectations.
“I’m sorry. I wish I could do more. I shouldn’t even be doing this. I must go. You must go. Good luck.” The woman started pushing him back outside.
“Thank you. Thank you so much.” Josef paused at the door, he turned around deliberately, “She doesn’t have a name yet. On account of her mother—If you don’t mind, can I ask your name?” Josef thought that maybe an offering would convince the witch to have mercy on his poor daughter.
She hesitated, “Margaret.”
“It’s beautiful. Family name?” Please let me daughter live, Josef thought.
“My grandmother’s name. She said her father got it from an old hermit who saved her life when she was a—It's not important, I have to go.“
“Margaret—Maggie. I hope you’ll get to see little Maggie grow up big and strong.”
A bright light shone in through the window of the cabin. So bright, Josef thought the sun had risen in the middle of the night. The witch didn’t seem startled at all. She sighed and grabbed a small satchel she had next to her chair.
“Unfortunately that won’t be possible. I need to go back to where I came from. You can't tell anyone about what I gave you, not even your daughter once she's older. I need you to go now, quickly.” She stared into Josef’s eyes as if she had more to say, but she just nodded and shuffled towards the backdoor of the cabin. | It was hopeless. It took her years of painstaking advancement through social ranks, starting with little more than a village idiot, of taking three steps forward and two back, of cracking one glass ceiling after another just to arrange this meeting, yet only one of the assembled feudal lords was listening and even his comprehension lefty much to be desired. Others were busy drinking, trying to feel up the maids or in one case furiously hollowing a piece of wood with a knife.
“So… you are saying this im.. imm.. immunizations can stave off another plague?” The lord sitting on her left asked, struggling with unfamiliar word.
“Loads of poppycock!” Interjected his peer opposite ”I wouldn't be surprised if those caused children to be born cretins!”
She threw a murderous glance towards the interloper, and sweet as before, returned to her target, desperately vying for an analogy he would comprehend.
“Imagine, that you have captured some warriors from a vanguard of an army invading from the east. They have weapons and armour like you have never seen before. Would you rather set them free, kill them, or put them in an arena to fight against your champions?” he was definitely interested now “It would be a risk for your soldiers, but your army would know what to expect, and how to fight a new enemy.”
His eyes lit up in comprehension.
“If you…”
But he wasn't given a chance to finish as a small projectile embedded itself in his neck. He stood up, nearly toppling the table. Bellowing in rage he reached for a dagger.
“Easy, brother, easy.” Laughed the man previously busy carving. “I have done that for your own good. See, as Elizabeth the Seer teaches, small portions of poison teach your body how to deal with real disease. So I've decided to immunize you against crossbow bolts.” He waved a miniature crossbow, he made just moments ago. “I reckon, that by the end of the month I should be able to shoot you with a proper bolt. Next month an iron tipped, and next year a ballista.”
The assembly erupted in a wave of laughter, and she knew all her work was for nothing. Sobbing, she ran out and didn't stop until she reached one of the huge iron pillars, surrounded by a sea of twisted, rusting wreckage.
She started crying openly, not only because of her failure, but because of what all of humanity lost in just a couple of centuries. She looked around, the ancient capital lain in ruins, magnificent buildings crumbled and replaced by wooden structures, overflowing Seine turning the terrain back into swampland. Only the ancient churches stood tall and proud, creating a painful dissonance with what was left of the pinnacle of human achievement.
****
High above an alien appendage relaxed and left the immediate vicinity of a kinetic strike activator. The ship's leader, who watched everything unfold through the eyes of a myriad of minuscule robots mimicking insects, wiped a sticky tear-analogue from his face; he genuinely felt for Elizabeth, and although he would cause her even more suffering before his mission was over, his soul shattered into a billion bruised pieces every time he had to cause harm.
He said a quick prayer to the Gods, both his and human, thanking for sparing what used to be Ile de France, back when he arrived for his scheduled rotation as mission coordinator. He sensed his crew's impatience, and began to issue orders in a soft and explanatory manner characteristic of his species.
“It went better than we could expect, but get the robots to apply a topical poison to the exact area where the projectile struck Lord Jean. Something that would make him rot alive, or maybe just bled out. They will be shocked, but they will only blame Elizabeth and her ideas.”
He paused, reminiscing how easy was to collapse the human civilization. No physical contact. No weapons. Just memetic viruses. Vaccines cause autism. Earth is flat. Jews are behind it. Jet fuel…
“Activate protection protocols on Elizabeth and all the others. Maximum prejudice, no need to stay secret. Before the year passes, she will be reviled as a witch, and all her ideas banned, our sage will be just like Baba Yaga from previous iteration. But for that we will have to keep her safe, and make sure she takes her medication.”
He wondered, what was she thinking, when one beautiful day she stopped aging, and even regained perfect health, while civilization crumbled all around. “I'm sorry…” he whispered.
“Now, please take us over Mr Harrison, and please prepare those angelic apparitions…”
| 2017-09-14T16:56:22 | 2017-09-14T08:26:46 | 136 | 25 |
[WP] Since you were born you could see a search bar over people's heads. All you had to do was think and the search bar would fill out and give you information/statistics. Out of boredom one day you decide to search your whole family with"Number of people killed" | 1 result.
There it was, a name that only I could see, floating silently above my father's head. My father the murderer; standing there with his back turned, chopping carrots at the bench.
"Dad," I said, my voice trembling. He must have heard the quiver, because he stopped and turned to me, concern etched upon his face.
"Yes Sam? Is everything ok?" He sounded genuinely worried. I mean, he was always genuine, wasn't he? But then why... I had to know.
"Do you remember how grandad died?" I blurted it out, a little too fast, and it took dad by surprise. His eyes widened, but he covered it by averting his gaze and clearing his throat.
"Lung cancer," he said quietly, "horrible way to go."
I nodded my agreement. I could sense his pain, and it made me hesitate. I wasn't sure how to approach the subject. How do you even begin? But the silence was deafening. I *had to know.*
"I remember," I said. "But, well... We all knew he was terminal, but the doctor said he still had a few months. It was just... Unexpected..."
Dad was stock-still now, standing there with that great big knife in his hand like some macabre statue. The moment drew out to infinite, frozen in time.
In an instant, the tension was broken.
My father lifted his knife, placing it gently next to the carrots. He turned back to me, and for the first time I could see the tears in his eyes.
"Do you remember the dialysis?" he said, "the needles? The tests?"
I couldn't speak, so I nodded.
"Dad couldn't bear the pain, but more than that, he couldn't bear living out the rest of his life in a hospital bed. He-"
My father choked and turned away again, staring out the window. He stared and stared, looking for something that he couldn't find.
I knew what he was looking for, I'd already found it.
"He asked you to do it, didn't he?" | "How do you kill 0.08 people?! Like, how is that supposed to work? My mum's not a murderer!"
*"Look man, I dunno. I just put it into aunt Sarah's box, and it says 1.08 people killed, and then lists a bunch of random-ass stuff about smoking and speeding and shit"*
"...Wait. So, mum used to smoke right?"
*"Uh, yeah I guess so?"*
"Well, she used to smoke when she was pregnant with my sister. She stopped with me, but I remember dad being really mad about it when she started again after the divorce, and he told me about her smoking when she was pregnant with Lil"
*"Right... I think I get it. She put the baby at risk, then?"*
"Yeah! Maybe it's like... a _chance_ of killing someone. Like, in 8% of universes, she miscarried. Or maybe it's because she increased my sister's likelihood of disease or something."
*"That could be it I guess. Can I try you?"*
"Yeah go ahead!"
...
*"Mark it says 12.2"*
_"Wait what the FUCK_ I never killed ANYONE bro. DEFINITELY not 12 people, fuck!"
*"Hey I believe you, I believe you! Lemme see... Awh shit, OK so it's not like you've killed one person. It's a bunch of little shit. There's 0.11 for speeding all the time... 0.9 for leaving the heating on when you're not in the house, buncha little shit that adds up."*
"Damn... leaving the heat on kills people?"
*"Climate change, my dude. Energy costs carbon."*
"Fuck..."
*"Yeah"*
"...I'm gonna put on a vest and turn the heater off" | 2019-07-01T21:21:32 | 2019-07-01T21:06:32 | 717 | 156 |
[WP] When the representatives of humanity attend their first Galactic Council meeting, all goes well. That is, until a member of a psionic race tries to read the human's minds and begins to scream. | "That frog looking alien. They have a small planet. Only 15,000,000 nukes.
The guy with four glossy eyes. An intelligent species. 25,000,000 nukes.
The large bulky ones. The ones that attacked us. 40,000,000 nukes. No. 50,000,000"
Then he stares at me with his cold calculating eyes. I turn away.
What is this human thinking. What even are "Nukes". I reach for my translator and type out the letters.
N... U... K... E... What is this? That's not possible. There's no way a jump start species already has the ability to split atoms. Let alone harness them as weaponry.
"That guy. Hes looking away from me." The Human Commander turns and whispers at the man besides him. "What is that long neck's deal?"
"It seems that the alien is an 'Agnell' and are able to read mines sir." The commander turns back at me.
"You reading me right now?" He knows I'm listening.
"I don't appreciate you intruding on my mind."
"Your species would only require 35,000,000 nukes. You know what nukes are?" I lightly nod. A human gesture of understanding and affirmation.
"We want no harm for this council. We only want to be able to protect ourselves. But heed my warning. If you or anyone in this room threatens my civilization. We have more than enough weaponry to wipe your planets clean." his head wanders. Incomprehensible. Unreadable. Then he stops on one thought.
"1.5 billion is more than enough to end you all." He smirks
I scream. Its not possible. What he needs to execute a mass genocide wouldn't even make a dent in that number. I need to tell the council about the human's power. We need to make peace quickly, before the .
"I think I figured out a way to shut you up." He closes his eyes and exhales.
Suddenly. A rush of emotions. First, he hits me with all the hope of his planet. All the joy created through their culture. It was amazing. the joys of dinner and family. The celebrations and life, until he hit me with sorrow. His planet's wars. The people he lost. The people his allies lost. A never ending chain of dead souls. How does he remember all of them. All their faces and voices. The blood. The war. He has a moment of doubt in himself, but then anger. The wrath of the human species. The 'Anets' accidental attack on the humans. The humans never let go of that incident. None of them did. Hes groups all aliens based on that first impression. He hates us all. His mind flashes with the images of his son in a casket. A funeral. I feel myself slipping. I can't handle all of this. Its too much. The hatred, the hope, the fear, the determination. All of it directed towards me. I can't.
"You better not intrude on my mind the next time we meet."
I black out. | "Aaaaaauuugh!" Rang out Fuerbors' agonized scream, "Gwaaah! Urrrrrgha! Hooooooow!" He raved on. Harold Barlett the first human Ambassador to the human race was on his knees next to Fuerbor the Ambassador to the polflongs' a race of blue/green squid-esque people.
"Ambassador Fuerbor? What's wrong?! Someone get him medical help!" Harold yelled! "Quickly! He is in pain!" Harold shouted. Within a minute medical personnel were hoisting Fuerbor onto a hover stretch and starting first aid. "Your mind! So full! Soooo complicated!" Fuerbor screamed in agony, "Ambassador what are you talking about?" Harold asked in confusion. Harold reached out a hand to Fuerbor in hopes of comforting his fellow ambassador but Fuerbor writhed at his touch, his screaming intensifying tremendously. "Please Ambassador Bartlett, stand back!" Said one if the medics. They rushed him off, his caterwauling dying off as the doors to the chamber slid shut.
"Ssssuch a ssssshame..." hissed Caldarc a snake like ambassador from Drouga, "Fuerbor wassss a good entity, a real Polflong among Polflong." He hissed reverently. "What happened to him?" Harold asked, concern visible on his now pale face. "You didnt know?" Caldarc inquired "Polflong are pssssionic, he tried to read you mind." He explained. "You mean h-he's telepathic?" Harold said in disbelief. "Of coursssse, asssss are my people, Polflong are expert readerssss, even while converssssating with othersss." Caldarc explained to Harold. "So when he read my mind it hurt him? But how!?" Harold queried with no understanding of telepathy. *Caldarc sighed* "You human people are a very interessssting sssspeciesss. Your mind conssssstantly buzzing with mental activity. He ssssshould have tethered hissssself to your forethoughtssss to not get lossst in your head." Caldarc spoke, somewhat condescendingly. "You mean my thoughts were to much for him to sort through?" Harold asked. "That issss exactly what I am ssssaying." Hissed Caldarc "He will be okay though. He managed to pull himsssself out on hisssss own. Nothing a few rotationssss in the infirmary wont fix. Worry not Ambassador. But pleasse, I implore you... next time, clear your mind before ssssspeaking to another being, it'ssss the polite thing to do." | 2019-09-29T19:09:14 | 2019-09-29T18:06:35 | 268 | 119 |
[WP]"This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood? | He has it, of course. Heck, I could probably say any random string of words and he'd have the game to match. Infinite monkeys and all that.
MY TURN.
I stare down at the cards in my hand, trying to pay attention despite the sweat soaking my back. They're the exact set we have at home, with little cartoon illustrations on the fronts. And they're worn--exceedingly worn. The cartoon dog on the two of spades has a scratch over its ear. The king of hearts, a bright pink heart with a crown and scepter, is bent in the upper left corner.
Holy sh--
Quickly, I peek across the table. A couple of the cards in his bony hands have bright purple marker scribbled across the backs. One is creased in the middle. Another has been repaired with Hello Kitty tape.
I clench my jaw shut before my mouth can drop open, trying to keep my breathing calm and even. Whether this is coincidence or luck or just the sheer inexplicable mechanisms of the universe, I don't care. My little girl never figured out how I was so good at the game. Hell if I'm going to give it up now, not when it matters more than anything else in the world.
When I get back I'm going to let her win the next hundred games in a row.
DO YOU HAVE ANY SIXES?
I always did have a good poker face.
"Go fish." | "Alright, so you're telling me that if I beat you at ANY game I can go back for another 10 years?!" said the man.
"Yes." said Death. "Any game of your choosing. Cheating is all-"
"Yeah, yeah. Cheating yadda yadda. I heard it the first time." the man snapped.
Death furled what the man assumed to be his brow at the man cutting him off.
Death sat there in silence, motionless. Just waiting for the man in front of him to pick his game.
The man started, "You know, I've play SO many games in my life. So many that I can't even remember what the stories were about anymore, they all just seem to run together."
Death looked on in horror as the man's name started to make more sense.
"I'm guessing you're starting to recognize me at this point, just like it says on the paper you read my name off of-" said the man.
"...I'm Gary fucking Gygax."
Edit: I never really do any prompts. I just thought this sounded fun. Critique if you want. I won't mind it! | 2018-03-07T06:37:49 | 2018-03-07T06:04:24 | 324 | 97 |
[WP] Your spouse has the annoying habit of unexpectedly licking you. When you ask them why they do it, they always reply "just so you know it's really me." You think it's nothing but a cute joke. One day, feeling something is off, you realise your spouse hasn't done it in over three weeks. | I was packing up some of Fi's old things when suddenly it hit me.
Three weeks, four days, two hours without a lick.
It was a strange little thing, just one of those things that made Fi, well, Fi. Randomly, out of nowhere, "just to let you know it's really me."
Sometimes, it would happen in public, and people would give us strange looks, but we'd act like nothing even happened.
Sometimes, she'd stop mid-sentence for a lick, and continue on like nothing ever happened while our friends and I all tried to stifle our laughter.
Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I'd wake up to a familiar wet sensation against my arm and a whispered "sorry".
I laid the box on the floor and sat down, staring at the now barren counter. A few minutes ago, it had been covered in tiny pebbles, each one equally spaced from the others. Another one of her Fi-diosyncrasies, as we used to call them. I tried to remember some of the others, trying to remember her.
How, whenever she turned on a lightswitch, she'd flick it three times, on then off then on again.
How she'd go to the fridge and open it, look inside for a second, then close it, even though she'd just looked a few minutes ago.
How she'd take the stairs in an alternating pattern, one stair, two stair, one stair, two stair, the sound of the two pounding through the house.
She hadn't been able to do the last one in over a year, though.
I remember finding her, lying on the stairs, passed out. At first, the doctors said she'd be fine, that all she needed was a few days rest. Over time, though, it became clear that wasn't true.
I watched her slowly fall apart, one Fi-diosyncrasy at a time. Day by day, she lost the energy required to keep up all her obsessions, and then to do anything at all.
After she couldn't walk anymore, she'd randomly call me up to the bed, saying she needed something. She'd talk faintly, almost in a whisper, so that I'd have to lean close to hear her. And then, I'd feel something wet hit my cheek. "Just so you know it's still me.", she'd whisper.
I picked up the box again and headed out the door to the car. But then, I noticed something.
A small cat sat on the porch. No collar, matted and dirty fur; probably a stray. I put down the box again, and knelt to get a closer look at it.
Suddenly, it dashed over to me, and gave me a small lick on the hand. It stared at me, eyes wide.
Just so that you know it's really me.
Now, I'm no believer in reincarnation. I know that, whatever happens, my wife is gone now, and nothing's going to change that.
But that didn't stop me from calling it Fi. | “Honey, you realize you haven’t licked me all day?”
“Ooh, I could lick you right now if you want to go in the bedroom.”
“No, I’m serious. You’ve always licked me, randomly, once a day for as long as we’ve been together. What’s up?”
“Perhaps you should come into the bedroom and see.”
“Why do you keep talking about the bedroom‽ I have a legitimate concern here. Something is off.”
“Sweetheart, just...come to the bedroom with me.” And Laura swiftly retreated into their bedroom.
Elliot was left to wonder. *What is going on?* he thought. *Am I crazy? Or is that not...No, of course not. It couldn’t be true.* He attempted to rid his mind of the idea, but it lingered. The ever-present faint idea that this...was no longer his wife. But, how could that be? Was it aliens? Robots? Time travelers?
*This is no time to start reverting back into old habits, Nick. Damnit, I mean Elliot.* Elliot could already feel his grip on reality slipping. The line between fantasy and the real world began to blur over. *Nick...Elliot...what does it matter. It’s just. A bedroom. Go inside. Stop worrying.* He slowly walked toward the bedroom door, getting more and more anxious with every step. He didn’t know what to expect, and that frightened him the most. And when he walked into the room, his face was licked immediately.
“His name is Nick,” Laura chimed in, holding a puppy up to Elliot’s face. “I got him so you could have a companion in your transition away from permanent psychiatric care. It’ll also help you stop using your middle name, like you asked me to help with.”
“Where would I be without you, dear?”
“Probably lost and destitute. And *definitely* more poorly dressed.” Laura winked at Elliot and started handing him the dachshund puppy. “Now, you take him and do some bonding. I’m going to go order a pizza.”
“I love pizza.”
“I know.”
“I love you.”
“I know.” And she walked out of the room, leaving Nick and Elliot alone.
Elliot took a long, concentrated look at Nick, as if determining his worth at that time. Nick just kept licking his arm. *Now you’ll always remind me of Laura, and of myself. And I’ll be able to remember myself, even in the midst of my bipolar symptoms. Nothing to fear at all.*
Nick continued to lick Elliot’s arm while Laura ordered his favorite pizza in the other room. | 2018-04-28T20:50:43 | 2018-04-28T17:29:06 | 10,373 | 86 |
[WP] It is now possible to buy superpowers, but the cooler the superpower the more expensive it is. You are a salesman trying to sell cheap/discount superpowers. | My entire family was in the superpower sale business and If they didn’t start that way immediately after graduation,it wasn’t long until they were selling them somehow.
My sister had a small shop up the river that sold the more unique powers, things like audiomancy and the ability to regrow limbs. She catered to those wanting ‘special experiences’ like no other.
Her business was thriving and our parents made sure to bring it up at every holiday gathering.
Our brother’s boutique was a local hotspot for glamour based powers and body changing ones. Shrinking? Growing? Changing your hair at will? He had a charm about him that could coax out your deepest insecurities and then shove a product in your hands that would take all of those little problems away.
He was interviewed on a popular talk show last week. Our parents beamed and shared the clip everywhere on social media.
There were plenty more examples. More news I heard everyday over my cereal as the school semester dipped into spring.
“Your cousin Charlotte just made partner at Power Capsule Corporate you know?” My mother would trill as she painted her nails and willed the sponge across that mornings dishes in the sink.
“You know your nephew just got offered an internship at K.A. Powers and Associates...he’s not even in his senior year yet.” My father droned on while checking his stocks.
You see, my parents were two of the first in the industry when super powers became legal to sell. My grandmother was on the pharmaceutical team that mastered the science of putting temporary phenomenal abilities into tiny tablets and when my mother was old enough, she figured out how to market them to the masses.
Then she got married, pulled my father into the business and together they soared to the top of the markets under Dee and Ci’s Marvelous Power Pills. They built an empire before the competition and black market started challenging them.
Not one to be outdone, my parents established the long game plan. Which essentially consisted of birthing children and raising them to be the most ruthless salesmen in the industry before one of them would take their spot.
They were blessed with my brother.
They were pleased with my sister.
They were joyous at every other family members accomplishments.
But I was a stain on their existence.
I had no interest in sales and they knew it... but graduation day was coming and I had yet to break to my parents that I in fact wouldn’t be continuing their legacy. That I couldn’t sell water to a man in the desert and this was not the job for me. But, every time the sway of courage moved me to confess my fears, the dagger like stares of their corporate nature made me buckle like a dunked cookie.
So when they came to me, beaming, on graduation night I should have been suspicious. And when they offered me the chance of a lifetime to get my future started (I.e. make them proud), I should have said no.
But here I was...a week later with a small, scuffed up briefcase full of the most lame and useless super powers you could imagine and a list of addresses.
“It will build character.” they said.
“Your siblings didn’t need this much help, be grateful you have this opportunity...” they proclaimed.
I tried to keep an award winning smile and can do attitude as I lauded my awful goods at each perfectly painted suburbanite home.
“Excuse me, um miss or misses, have you ever wondered what it would be like to produce extremely flammable vomit for only $9.99 I can give you that experience!” SLAM!
“Good afternoon sir! Can I interest you in the ability to speak to goldfish?” SLAM!
“Have you ever wanted to be able to control the temperature of the air exactly 1 inch around you?” SLAM!
After the sixteenth door slammed in my face I was cursing my parents and the pharmaceutically enhanced horse they rode in on.
Sitting on the curb dejectedly, I contemplated how to break my failure to them. I’d just have to tear it off like a band-aid.
“Mom, Dad...I cannot sell superpowers. I’m no good at it.” I could already hear them saying I just needed to try harder.
As I pondered my predicament, an idea hit me.
Literally, a large box sailed through the air and came to a stop in the same coordinates as my face. Staring down at the shiny black parcel in my lap as I rubbed the lump it left I realized it was one of those monthly subscription boxes to video game merchandise.
They were extremely popular and covered a wide variety of niches from games and movies, to makeup and health food.
But not super powers!
And so after a bit of social media advertising, and one website later, I am excited to offer you a once in a lifetime opportunity.
For only $59.99 a month you can have an assortment of surprise super power pills sent directly and discreetly to your door every month, with fun monthly themes like:
“Party Tricks”
“Slightly Amusing Pranks”
And my personal favorite- “Small inconveniences to your enemies”
Every month is like sending a present to yourself, so act now and get access to our bundle deal, four months of LootPowers for $239.00!
_____________________
My first post here so I know I have a lot to improve but it sounded like a fun start! | "Hey, kid, you want some powers?" I asked, opening my arms invitingly to the kiosk. He stopped mid-step, pulling out one of his earbuds and giving my stand a once over. He was sporting a college sweatshirt and a disappointed look.
"What kinda stuff you got?" he asked skeptically, still not turning to me.
"Oh, the best stuff. Illumination! Attraction! Absorption, you name it, we got it!" I said, pointing out each of the powers as I described it.
"Illumination?" he perked up. "I've been looking for one of those. What kind of illumination? I'm looking to make my eyes into flashlights at night so I can read in bed without a nightlight. Anything like that would do fine. How much?" As he approached me, pulled his other earbud out and it slowly slid itself down his body, organizing itself with the other bud and slipping into his pocket neatly. He'd bought powers before. He'd be a tough sell.
"For you, I'll give the student discount!" I said confidently. My confidence only grew when I saw his face turn brighter in anticipation. "What do you say to fifty dollars?"
"Fifty!?" he exclaimed, practically bursting into laughter. "What will it do, make my butt glow in the dark?"
I laughed good-naturedly.
"No, no, it's much more like a flashlight like what you want. Just comes out your nostril. It's a powerful beam that can make anything you need easily seen. Twenty whopping lumens out of this guy, light up the night!" I said excitedly, slapping the power on the desk for him to take.
"Sorry, did you say nostrils?"
"It's great for close spaces like closets or getting your car keys into your car when it's dark out--"
"From my nostrils?" he repeated, completely deflated.
"Yes, that's right." I could almost feel locks tightening around his wallet.
"And you know twenty lumens would barely be enough to read at night when it's coming out of my nose. I don't read with my neck up, you realize?"
"Not your cup of tea?" I swapped the power on the counter with another, giving it a hearty slap like the first. "What about an absorption power?"
"What kind of absorption?" he said, barely interested. I saw one of his earbuds sneaking out of his pocket.
"A cheap one!" I ran through my words as fast as I could muster. "It's amazing for mornings! Absorbs all the nutrients out of any type of vomit, whether animal or human! Get ready for the day in an instant with--"
"*Feces?!?*"
"Oh yes, they're rich in--"
"I'm not interested in running my hands over literal pieces of puke, man. I can't believe you're wasting my time!" The wires of his earbuds raced up his shirt but I slapped another power on the desk loud enough to shock him and his music players enough to stop all three.
"Attraction! It's the hottest thing around!" I yelled, desperation crawling in my voice.
"Look, man, I really don't need any attraction. What's the catch on this one, like attract poop from all directions to the user of the power?" he said, upset. My eyes skirted to the power in my wares that actually did that, but I quickly went back to the pitch.
"No! Much better! Attracts a group of wasps who want to sting your eyes, they'll come charging straight for you!" I said rapidly.
"Are you serious? They'll come darting right for me?" he asked. It wasn't in anger, but interest.
"That's right, and sting your eyes if they make it," I repeated.
"How do they come at you? Like in a straight line?" he asked, genuinely.
"That's right. One after another," I said warily. I tried to read what he was getting at.
"So, if I have a power that makes wasps collapse one at a time, then this would allow me to use that power one at a time and feed the things to my venus fly traps?" he asked, excitedly. I slammed my hands on the table in excitement, hiding the $2 price tag that I'd hoped he hadn't seen.
"That's absolutely possible! And it can be yours for only twenty dollars!"
"Oh, you got a deal man, this is gonna be awesome!" he said, pulling out his wallet giddily.
I finished the transaction with a beaming smile wishing him a good day and asking him to come again. I sighed contentedly and looked at the day's profits. About $500 in total. Not bad, all things considered. I just wished I had a better power than "make pretty stupid powers that you aren't allowed to use."
__________________________________________________________________________
For more powerful stories, come check out /r/Nazer_The_Lazer! | 2019-09-23T19:36:13 | 2019-09-23T19:00:33 | 200 | 77 |
[WP] If your death is imminent, time stops for everyone but you. This allowed you to cheat death on many occasions by avoiding all sorts of danger except for now - you have no idea whats threating your life. Its been a year since time stopped. | Day 1: Time stopped, as it does when I'm in danger, at 7:05:23 this morning. I know because that's why my watch was at when it stopped counting. I usually just duck or jump to the side or something and time restarts, but none of that helped. I finally ran outside the house, and nothing. This is strange; something's about to kill me - usually time stops only seconds away from my death - but whatever it is I can't figure it out.
Day 2 (?): I've double-checked everything. All the food I ate, the pills I took, I don't see any bug bites - and how many bug bites are lethal, anyway? It's been an entire day the world has been stopped. Usually it's under a minute. Whatever the danger is, I just don't see it. I hope I don't have cancer or something. How would I find out?
Day 7 (probably): This is losing its humor value. People in solitary start to go bonkers, and I'm starting to feel that way myself. I've dozen-checked everything. There is nothing, literally nothing, even slightly threatening to me within a kilometer of my house. I'm not even sure how many days it is, since nothing has changed. I'm mostly going by what it feels like. I could be off a full day in either direction.
Day 30 (ish): I had a long conversation with a time-locked squirrel today, so maybe the going crazy part has begun. Still, the squirrel made some good points. Heh.
Day 60 (or so): There is nothing, literally nothing, within two kilometers of my house that constitutes any possible threat to my life, except maybe that burly cop if he finds out how much time I spent admiring his wife in the shower.
Day 90 (deal with it): I've just been walking in an expanding spiral, and have now made it maybe four kilometers from my house. Nothing, absolutely nothing, looks like any danger to me at the moment time stopped. I must be thinking too small: maybe a nuke went off or something? I climbed an antenna tower to look for planes in the sky or explosions or something but didn't see anything. What am I going to do if it IS a nuke? I guess running the other way until time restarts would mean I made it to minimum safe distance, but then lots of other people would get fried. Maybe I can just take the bits of the bomb and spread them far apart, or carry it out into the desert or something.
Day whatever: I just started walking in a direction. Don't know why I never noticed this before, but you can walk on time-locked water. I don't want to think about what happens if I walk to safety, time restarts, and then stops again after I sink a bit into the water. Too far and I may just be stuck there for eternity. The stories say Jesus walked on water; but that can't have been time-locked or who would have seen it to write the story?
End of year 1, or 2, or however long it's been: I've been walking in a straight line, well I guess a curved line because the planet is round, for, well, a really long time. Time never restarted. I don't see anything that might be dangerous to me. I've seen some nice scenery. I'm starting to walk into the darkness, where the sun had already set when time froze. Not sure how useful that's going to be.
100km later, or whatever, I don't know: I see the full moon rising. I went back and forth a while, see the moon rise and set and rise and set, just to break up the monotony.
Another 10km, or something: I must be going nuts, because now I see two moons.
Later that same day (night?): the second one is not the moon. It looks to be an asteroid, maybe 5 kilometers across, burning up in the atmosphere. There's a bunch of burned out land under it. It has stopped a couple hundred feet above the ground. So now all I have to do is figure out how to climb up to it, chip it into little pieces one at a time, and distribute them over a wide area so that nobody dies. Since I can walk on water, I don't even know if breaking time-locked rock is possible. And I'm not sure how I'm going to get up there. But I do have plenty of time to think about it.
| It's been a year now... or more exactly, it's the 365th time I woke up in my bed. I don't really know why I still sleep in my own bed. After all this time I could have been sleeping in a room in the most luxurious hotel I could find, but somehow, it felt wrong all along.
Usually, that happen just before something should kill me. I just have to figure out what it should be and fix the cause, walk a few more step on the side or something like that and I have to live a few more. But this time, I just don't know what should kill me. The first day I was just walking down the street, inspecting everybody to find a gun or something. I looked at the sky to see if something was falling on me, but nothing. After a while, the loneliness was getting me on my nerve. My sanity was slowly slipping through my hand and it didn't took long before I turned completely insane. I almost lost the notion of time and I was just sitting in a alley, mumbling foolish words. After a while I began to speak to the statues that were once moving, and now, one year after, I'm tired. So tired that I can't even talk to my reflection like I always do in the “morning”. I just don't want it any more.
“Ok, I don't want to live any more. This is to much of a torture, just let me go now”
I said that to... nobody in fact. I just reached the bottom. I truly didn't wanted to live like this any-more. Compared to that, death had a sweet taste in my broken mind.
“So finally you're giving up. You took your time, mortal”
The mirror suddenly changed. At first I thought it was just another hallucination, but when somebody... “walked” out of it and touched me, a shock rushed through my body and I jumped backward.
“Wh- what?”
“I said, you took your time. Stopping the time for a whole year is not something you do everyday to make a mortal accept his fate. Oh, and I forgot to introduce myself. I have many name, but for now, I think the most appropriate is death.”
“you.. stopped? No, it's me who stop the time. It's me that control this power! Not you! I'm the...”
“Not this time I fear. You see, You escaped me so many times. Not that I was trying to kill you, no. I just make people die, because that would be a problem if people were killed be were not dying. But as you were able to avoid being killed, I had to try... another approach.”
“You... this can't be right? I mean. Yes, I prefer to die than to live another minute right in this state, but I don't REALLY want to die.”
“And how long will it take for you to accept me. Think about it. I'm not your enemy. Right now, I'm your only way to end this.”
“Except if I can kill you.”
“You can't kill death”
that didn't stopped me to try. I jumped right on him with nothing but my fist, but when I reached him, I passed through him like a ghost. I suddenly felt the hard and cold ground just before the tip of a metallic spike touched my back.
“listen, if you don't accept me now, I can just go and come back later. I can let you rest in this frozen world for eternity, it won't bother me. So either you you die now, or I'll collect your soul later.”
“But I don't want to die!” I screamed “I want to be free! I want to live!”
“I can't afford it any-more. I'm leaving for now. When you are ready, you know how to find me”
the spike was lifted from my back. I immediately stood up to attack death again, but I was already gone. I screamed in protest, beat the wall, hit my head against the mirror, but my rage to live would not save me. I was trapped, and only death could save me.
edit: added an English dictionary to my browser and noticed a lot of little mistake | 2018-07-04T16:29:47 | 2018-07-04T15:06:49 | 2,360 | 36 |
[WP] A woman falls in love with Death and commits murder countless times just to catch a glimpse of him. | * *I'll preface this by saying that I never write for fun. But something about this prompt made me want to jump in. Apologies for the amateur nature of the following.*
I never should have let her in. Two hundred years of being careful, of being guarded. All that time and work, lost because I was lonely. Sandra and her husband: that was the deal. It couldn’t have been easier. A car accident is a walk in the park. No second thoughts, no planning. No thinking. Nothing.
Why did she have to look, sound, even smell like Abby? I was promised that I would never have to go through it again. One time was enough. It was supposed to be so simple. Close my eyes, conjure the event, and see it through. But I was told, no, promised Goddamnit! How does he expect me to follow through when he breaches his own contract?
Fuck it. I wisped her out of the event. She’d be sad to lose her husband, but maybe she’d feel something. Maybe she’d know it was me who “saved” her. I just couldn’t bear seeing her essence pass through my world again. I made it as much of a freak accident as I could. Kids are always throwing things off highway overpasses, Right?
I should have seen it after her coworker died. Death in bunches or spread out, that’s how it works for those who I have to visit often. I guess my infatuation made me forget that Don from accounting died on the anniversary of Sandra’s husband dying. I went to check on her at her house. She’d just recently taken down all the pictures of her and Adam. She was facing her bathroom mirror.
“I see you every day,” she whispered.
It’s always interesting to see how long it takes for some people to get over the death of a loved one. Sandra was taking her sweet time.
“I know you’re watching over me.”
No, my dear, he isn’t. They never are.
“How do we know each other?”
She was staring right through me in the mirror. There was no way she knew. Right?
| She stood alone on the roof. The wind blew faintly, whistling through the bulletholes in a final protest. A smile threatened to leap forth, but she kept it in check. This was the best part.
The temperature dropped, and the surrounding light seemed to dim. There he was. He strode confidently among the bodies, leading the souls to the afterlife with macabre grace. The smile burst forth now full and unencumbered. She swept her jet black hair back into a messy bun.
"Long time, no see." He said casually.
"It has been a while... what have you been up to?"
"Oh you know, ushering souls to the underworld, the usual."
Something was off. All of the dead had a string leading to their cause of death, and most of them pointed to her. Actually, she was somewhat restless herself. And, was that lipstick?
"Why are you doing this?" He asked in a measured tone.
"Doing what?" Innocence. Nice try.
"Killing. Murdering. You're a good girl Aya." Her smile was contagious.
"But only in death can I see you."
"And? Seriously I'm old enough to have started your bloodline--"
"Age doesn't apply in this sort of thing."
He sighed. She was right. He remebered sparing her like it was yesterday. The fire that had killed her parents after their meth experiment went wrong. All their drug use had taken it's toll on her when she was born. It had taken all he had to give her a chance.
Then he felt it. Slim fingers entwining with his own. That wasn't possible. He looked at her and she was still alive. Still there.
"Just like you have to bear the burdens of the dead, I'll be there to bear yours."
"....Promise?" | 2014-06-30T07:12:17 | 2014-06-30T07:03:58 | 17 | 11 |
[WP] Humanity is capable of living thousands of years, provided they can get past the larva stage, which ends at 150 years old.
What sort of world would we live in? What does a human pupate into? Was this a natural phenomena, or was it something introduced by advanced medicine? | It was the darnedest thing. One moment I was celebrated as the world's oldest man. The next I was reviled.
I awoke after what I had thought was just another fit of narcolepsy and felt like I was in my 20's again. My flesh was odd soft to the touch but given enough force it hardened momentarily. Of course this isn't what scared everyone( I mean except the military.) What everyone else feared was what was growing out of my head and back. Horns and wings.
As it turns out the bible wasn't a way to keep history around. It was a book that documented us humans that had lived long enough to achieve "transbioreactive evolution." The story of Adam and Eve explained we could reproduce, Cain and Abel that we could kill each other, Methuseleh that we lived for hundreds of years, and Jesus that we are capable of things that would cause this world to be knocked off it's rocker.
My name is Hancock and this is the beginning of the end. | The world cried when they made the announcement. The government knew before the announcement of course, but even their preparations were woefully insufficient. Desperation will drive people past any obstacle.
My family was just as distraught as anyone else's... Maybe a little more. We just had the funeral the other week.
Some people are saying it's the greatest act of genocide ever committed; more than 100 billion people that we've interred, embalmed or cremated... And all we have ever had to do is wait.
I know the news says it's not going to work. I know the fines are massive. I know my wife will probably leave me. But tomorrow, I'm going to get her back, she was only 4 after all.
| 2015-01-01T17:32:49 | 2015-01-01T17:11:31 | 158 | 38 |
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