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] Scientists have discovered cryogenic freezing. You are it's first test subject and it's a massive success, and they plan on releasing you in 500 years. You had no way of telling them you were conscious.
Holy shit this blew up!
I now understand "RIP my inbox"
EDIT: u/Alpacasaurus_Rekt told me it's actually "Cryonic Freezing"
EDIT 2: To anyone who is trying to say, "scientists would not put them in for 500 years immediately" I would like you to know this is a fictitious writing prompt and just roll with it. | I think I am insane. I recall someone once saying that if you can question your sanity, you must not be insane. Bullshit. I question everything but there is no way I am sane anymore. I don't mind. Not really. Its the only thing that has helped.
I volunteered for this, I think. I don't really remember anymore than I remember why. Perhaps it was some romantic idea of being like Fry, waking up in a future with rocket-ships and one-eyed women mutants and death by snu-snu as an option. Sorry, a dated reference that you wouldn't get. Yes. Yes, I definitely volunteered, I remember that now. I walked into my bosses office, the ink on my PhD barely dry and declared that I wanted to be the first human to test out the new cryogenic protocol.
We had already tested it on animals and the success was breathtaking. Full restored functionality, no brain damage, no harm. Of course, the longest sleeper, as we called them (HA! Sleeper! what a misnomer that word was) had gone under for a year. Five hundred years was unheard of.
So that was our plan. Put me under for five hundred years and let me gently wake into a paradise future, with replicators and warp drive for all! Sorry, another dated reference.
What no-one knew back then, what I didn't know, was that our method of freezing left the brain awake. The body froze, sure. Decay practically halted and detectable activity was gone. To those observing, I was unconscious, asleep and perfectly preserved. I eventually came up with a theory that our soul, who and what comprises the person I call "me" is a real thing and separate from the physical trappings that house us. That was bullshit too but it allowed me to try and understand how my brain activity could be practically zero but I was still fully conscious and aware of every single second passing.
At first, I was horrified. I screamed for days, I think, even though no one could hear me. Eventually, I grew angry. I even invented six new curse words I threw out at the technicians that came to check my status. Then, I got bored. Do you have any idea what it is like to be stuck for years in a box with only a small window for viewing and that frosted up most of the time? Of course you fucking don't! People like you are too smart to agree to such an insane choice.
Sorry. I don't mean to get angry but when I consider the years stuck in there, well, you can understand my frustration. After ninety-seven years, six months and three days (yes, I counted. What else was I to do?) the lights went out and the technicians stopped visiting.
What? Yes, that was when the impact event occurred. More than ninety percent of humanity wiped out in a day and most animal and plant life gone. I had no way of knowing. All I knew is that the promised emergency power supply kept functioning and I stayed frozen. Locked, alone in a box, in cavern, buried beneath a million tons of dirt on a planet barely inhabitable. Alive, aware and more lonely than you can imagine.
Of course you can imagine being alone! Not that alone though. When you are alone you are away from your people. You aren't trapped in a fucking box with no light, no hope of getting out and no sense of self. That is being alone. I never expected to see or speak to another living soul.
That is when I went insane. I spent almost three hundred years living a life on a world full of magic and dragons and people. I got married. I had kids. I conquered the world once then I died and came back to life. Of course none of it was real but I was certain it was. Well, mostly certain. Something always nagged and eventually the hallucinations began to unravel. I remember waking up, screaming again because at least my insanity gave me a life I could bear.
Then you came. After centuries of being alone and trapped, I saw the first glimmer of light break through the darkness. I hadn't realized I had lost hope until it came flickering back to me. I knew you couldn't hear me, but I kept screaming "Here I am. Here! Find me, oh god, oh god, oh god, please, please find me."
What? God? Oh, its a construct we used to have about some magical being that made everything. No, I wasn't a believer but it was a common expression that everyone used. Supreme Being? Yes, I suppose that is the same thing as god. Sorry, didn't mean to offend your beliefs.
Anyway, you found me. The box had preserved me all that time! I was, I am, so grateful to you for my rescue. It was all that I hoped.
*They gently moved what was left of the creature's physical brain into the preservation jelly. The world they had constructed would allow it to live out its natural life span, believing that it had been rescued by its fellows into a world built by them. It was a pity but the majority of its physical body was too severely damaged by cryogenic process failure. It is a miracle (Thank the One!) that even enough of the cerebrum had survived to preserve the creature's sense of self.*
*It correctly stated its mental condition as insane. This entire species had been insane, according to the archaeological records that had been preserved. The impact, which we had allowed the creature to assume was nearly species ending was actually self inflicted. Global atomic warfare completed what destroying their climate had begun. Everything destroyed. Alone and unknown to us until happenstance found this site, this poor creature was the last of his species. The least we could do is not tell him.* | Pure silence. A quiet more soundless than the empty page of an armless writer with nothing to say. A defending nothingness, in all directions, from this space here to the end of time.
*THUNDER*
A crack explodes in to existence. Cutting itself in to this world mercilessly. The violence roars in a mounting creshendo. Building somehow, impossibly louder, shaking the chamber. The metal rings, the glasses rumbles, the hardware, tubes, water, ice, all separate infinitely. The ground ripples in waves, vibrating through the walls. I feel no pain, but my mind is pulled so hard in every direction it fills all of the space allowed to it. I hate the sound. It sears though my being like lava boiling me alive.
Click.
I feel it all slow. The savage rush that filled my brain eats at my hope for relief. Every hiding spot illuminated. Every sanctuary demolished. The trail of destruction appears and the sounds trails off. In perfect contrast of the beginning, the end seems to revel in passing through. Like an endless army, slowly marching out of a demolished city. Bootsteps of destruction fading into the horizon.
The panic does not leave me. I left with every cell in my body clutching itself. For comfort? Or are they tying to rip themselves apart. Can it be both? My brain is hyperventalating. I can still hear it, barely, it is faint. Maybe I can still feel the sound. Can't it. How long has it been? Yes I think I can still hear it. Very soft, yes. It is getting quieter, for sure. I wonder when it will end. I try ro picl up the pieces of my mind.How far has it gone. The room seems to be still. Ah, the room. It looks much better still. My chamber too, is more comfortable still. The puzzle of myself slowly comes back together. What an ordeal that was. I feel my brain dust itself off. It wants to look at the devastation.
Only, there is none. The room is clean. The floor solid white, no cracks. No breaks on the walls. Fluorescent white in every inch. Except right in front of me, brown. A Michelangelo alone in a world of blank. A spec of glistening brown... It's a reflection. That's.. That's my eye. Glass?
My brain has seen enough, on to the arms, move this glass. Nothing... What is going on here... The puzzle clicks another piece. I've been here before. I've thought that before. And thste. And this. That wasn't a dream?
"Of course that wasn't a dream!"
"Who was that?"
"Me"
"Who are you? Where are you?"
"Great now he's scared!"
"Hahaha! Good we'll get a show this time!"
"Who are you people!? Why can I hear you!? "
"Hey how can you talk with you mouth closed?"
"Great, now you've done it... "
"WHO ARE Y-"
"YOU"
"You"
"You"
"You idiot"
"We're you honey"
"Welcome back."
"YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT! IF YOU HADN'T BEEN SUCH A WASTE OF A LIFE YOU WOULDN'T HAVE CHOSEN THIS!
"Jesus, someone put him back, this was going better than nor-"
"FUCK, IF ITS GOING TO SHIT ITS YOUR FAULT. MAYBE IF HE HAD MORE OF ME BEFORE THIS WE WOULDNT BE HERE! "
"Ignore him, he will mellow out, remember 15?
"Great idea, 15 will bring him aroud, this one could use-"
"Please... I.. I.. I can't.. "
"No, that's why we're here. Welcome home, buttercut."
"47, please start. I have places to be."
"Meet you from 30 years ago."
"Hey, it gets better, I'll show you some cool memories later. "
"That's you from 89 years ago there."
"Hey, sweetie, your doing great."
"I'm about 47, and the big guy there is 3 now."
"Usually we keep the young ones isolated until they aren't as volitile. That last tick must have really shaken things up."
"Yeah you had been meditating for months, almost get a new record!"
"You slipped at the end. You got too close to the quiet."
"It felt so good... "
"Felt good? Was it worth it? Youre not supposed to feel, youre supposed to be empty! Just be!"
"Let it go, you did the same thing.
"That was years ago, I thought he would have, I would have learned. Ahhh Fuck, FUCK FUCK! HOW LONG WAS THAT ONE?
"Probably years"
"499, probably"
"Seconds, maybe"
He joked, he sat in his mind with all of the puppets on his hands. Each one wearing a handful of their own puppets. Every axon and neuron and fiber of his being had created a toy to play with by now. He know every stich, every bolt, every smutty memory or fabrication. So many characters and stories he had long ago lost track of meaning of fables and every happily ever after played a lifetime of monotony that never ended, only began new stories. He wept, he laughed at himself, he fell asleep. Slumber remind him of alarms and he looked at the wall. The second hand of the clock would strike again at any moment. He stopped counting hundreds of years ago, or thousands, or yesterday. But he could enjoy the quiet for now.
The voices had muted and he savored the silence.
Pure silence.
| 2017-12-17T04:45:38 | 2017-12-17T02:36:12 | 43 | 11 |
[WP] You are not Death. You are not the God of Death. You are not any other type of powerful being or eldritch horror. There is no room within this prompt to make a hackneyed “observation” about humanity. You are a regular ass guy on his way to Subway to get a meatball sub. Make it interesting. | Hunger.
To be honest, he had almost forgot what it felt like. For years his wife, afraid of losing him again, had devoted herself to pleasing his every whim. At first, of course he had resisted, but he was only human. Bliss became routine. But nothing lasts forever, and soon she left, too. And with her left all her gifts.
He stood, waiting to cross the street, wallet in hand. His stomach rumbled. Did the light usually take this long to change?
The red man suddenly turned green. He rushed to the other side, cars growling as he passed, their drivers impatiently waiting for their turn. Where was he going to eat?
He turned his head, but saw nothing. The man let out an exasperated snort. There had to be something around! He turned the corner, his eyes desperately looking around for salvation.
There it lay, a Subway. At last!
He had always hated Subway, but at this point he had nowhere else to go. The place looked a bit disheveled, the sign on the top barely hanging straight, and there seemed to be almost noone inside. The employees looked tired, too, the grease of the sandwiches mixed with their sweat in a thin coat over their skins. He hesitated.
His stomach rumbled again.
There was no turning back now. He rushed through the doors, pulling out the money and slamming it on the counter.
"One meatball sub, fast!"
________
Had to write this fast on my phone at my work break, but had fun making a drama out of a guy going out for a sandwich lol | As Bob sat on the subway his ass firmly planted on the sticky and comfortable seat, he thought about toast. Peanut butter toast, French toast, garlic toast, toast was nice to think about and passed the seconds as he waited to get his meatball sub. He saw a woman with flaming hands enter the subway her phone case was cute and her watch clean, Bob wondered why he liked clean watches more then most but the idea to explore it further went away quickly. The subway finally came to a stop after a few more minutes of reading the latest news about planet destroying ships heading towards earth. Bob left the subway station passing by rubble, debris, raging fires, and bank robberies on his way to his favorite Italian sub shop the Arcane sigils on the glass and brick giving it a amount of peace uncommon nowadays. As he orders his cheese no tomato chunks meatball sub he hears the police consultants hit a criminal into the glass the sigils releasing a hissing sound as they absorb the impact. Bob eats his sub happily at last and tips heavily for the good service before he leaves the shop. Bob is content with his life yet he still catches himself missing the days of peace and quiet every once and awhile.
(First time writing one of these sorry for the mobile formatting) | 2022-10-03T00:20:27 | 2022-10-02T22:12:25 | 127 | 24 |
[WP] You've been a History teacher for 30 years, never gotten a single fact wrong. One day you become suspicious, surely I should've gone wrong somewhere? You test a theory by purposely being incorrect, suddenly, history rewrites itself. | I am a history teacher at a high school in a rural area of California. I am proud to say I know all the facts of yesterday. However, the last few years I have begun to question things - mostly due to my governments inept ability to be transparent.
One fateful Monday afternoon I was in class and we were talking about the history of the 9/11 attacks. The students were left to discussing their opinions on some topics and then to write a short essay for me when I overhear, "What if 9/11 wasn't planned by the Taliban?"
"You're right. 9/11 was planned by our government and cover......"
...
"Teach?"
"Sorry?"
"You've been out of it for a minute - again"
"What were we talking about?"
"The civil war of 2002"
"Oh, right, I seemed to have lost my place. Let me start over.." | 2078
Forty years ago I became immortal due to a cascading sequence of events entirely under my control. I invented God for a father and took advantage of the 'preordained' second coming, becoming Jesus reincarnate.
2130
Being immortal is freeing.
2456
Everyone I know is long since dead. I can't make sense of the new generations coming up, no matter how much I rewrite their past.
6304
Reality is nothing and everything all at once. Does our reality have boundaries? Walls?
17804
Being immortal is suffocating.
46493
I was and I am and I will be. | 2018-07-16T12:19:50 | 2018-07-16T10:38:05 | 848 | 268 |
[WP] There's a prophesied hero, a chosen one, destined to vanquish all evil. This supposed hero is also an egotistical, self centered brat. You're the villain solely because you got tired of putting up with the "hero's" shit | "Hmm." I pondered, twirling my moustache as I strode through my library. My cloak billowed out behind me, sweeping past such classics as the Odyssey, the Brothers Grimm and Aesop's fables. "What lesson should the little tit learn today?" My finger slid along the collection; the room filled with fables of heroes and villains. "Perhaps... The importance of generosity? Or how about... self sacrifice? Hmm..."
*Bang*
Wafting away the cloud of smoke, a Wizard appeared. Pointy of hat and grey of beard, Great Ebenezer, the Mentor of Heroes, stood before me coughing.
"*cough*...Sorry about that; never could stop the teleport spell from going up in flames." I smiled, and patted him on the back.
"No problem 'Zer. Tell me, what brings the illustrious Mage of the First Order to my humble home? Don't tell me..." I raised my hands in mock horror "...*my time has come?*" He grimaced, and after conjuring a glass of water, told me of his Noble Purpose.
"No such luck, Oh Foul Scourge of Heroes. No, the little *prick* needs another life lesson."
"What in this time? I was thinking self sacrifi..." He interrupted "No, Jack. It needs to be the Importance of Friendship and Allies."
"What, *again*?!? I did that last month" Summoning my own staff (a tasteful walking stick, silver handle embossed with arcane runes), I drew upon its power to Gaze into the World.
...*there.* Hmm. 'Zer was right; the twit of a hero is neglecting his allies, and causing all sorts of inter-group strife. Look, he's about to play the "Look, I'm Blessed by the Gods" card to boss them around. *Right.*
Refocusing into the library, I draw from the shelf the suitable tale.
"Look, 'Zer. I'll do the 'separation shows how useful they are' gag in the Mountain pass, but you better get back; he's trying to get them to wade across Mara Falls. "
"*Oh hell*" and with another plume of magic smoke the Great Ebenezer vanished to stop the Hero of Our Age from killing himself. Again.
I sighed. It's a pity it came to this; but if the half-witted fool would not learn normally, he'd have to suffer through some manufactured life lessons.
Although I really shouldn't enjoy them *this* much. | A golden knight, perfect brow drenched in sweat and blood, furrowed in frustration, stands across from a young man in rags, gripping a sword of iron.
The knight spoke, tenor voice flowing like silk across the clearing to the man in rags,"I have fought demons dragged from hell by most evil men, and threw them both back into the depths from where came."
The man in rags clutches his sword and breathes slowly, a sigh breaching the space between them.
The knight grimaces and says sharper cutting through the silence that had fallen over the forrest as they fought."I grappled with dragons when they returned from the stars while all of man fled before their fire and might. I fought them alone and emptied the skies of their tyranny."
The man in rags reaches down and picks up the golden sword that lay before him; a golden gauntlet still grasping it's handle, white bone and red blood revealing themselves from the recesses of the gauntlet as it follows the sword into the air.
The knight screams, voice filling the air, a voice that had not been ignored in over 1000 years destroying evil, going unanswered. "I battled the giants when they came down from their clouds. I battled, and when I won I followed them back to their heights and tore down their castles so they would never terrorize man again."
The man in rags steps forward, prying the golden fingers from the hilt. The gauntlet falls loose and crashes to the ground. The white knight crumbles to his knees before him, confusion and defeat now evident in his upturned face and wide eyes staring straight at this mongrel, this animal, that rose from his station to spit in the face of a god. "They promised me I would defeat all evil. The priests prophesized it, lips repeating the words of God. Who are you?"
The man in rags raises the golden sword above the knight, the man who for a thousand years had kept humanity from changing, from growing, had kept all the evil from the world but with it all the good as well. Stared at him and felt nothing but pity and swung as he said, gutteral voice only reaching the knight, as the silence of the world holding its breath became oppressive,
"I hope a good man." | 2016-06-16T11:44:01 | 2016-06-16T11:09:46 | 22 | 14 |
[WP] Everyone has a stopwatch they are given at birth, it counts down to the exact moment you will meet your soulmate. You met your soulmate years ago and have been happily married since with three beautiful children. This morning you woke up and looked down, your watch has begun counting again. | "Hello, Marie." The words echoed in her memory fondly. She gazed blankly out of the tinted cab window. A light snow had began falling outside and the streets were buzzing with young couples.
It had been a day not too unlike this one, just 33 short years ago, that she had met the love of her life. Her watch had been ticking down for as long as she could remember. She had always daydreamed of some grand, romantic encounter with some dashing prince-like man swooping in and sweeping her off her feet. Who she got instead was no prince, but was a loving, humble, hardworking, *good* man.
They had been married almost immediately after their watches simultaneously stopped while standing abreast on that overcrowded subway. He had sheepishly asked her for her name then, and fumbled in his coat pocket for his ring, before blurting: "Hello, Marie. Would you be my wife?" Who could say no to their soulmate?
They had 3 beautiful children and lived out their days in a humble, yet wonderful house overlooking the city. She had gotten her happily ever after.
That is, until 1 month ago.
The cab slowed and came to a stop. Marie payed the fare before carefully stepping out onto the already-slick curb. She made her way inside her quiet apartment and closed the door gently behind her. After shrugging off her coat she sank into an inviting armchair and only lasted a moment before sucking in a gasp of air and sobbing.
Not many had come to the funeral. Whatever extended family they had was far too distant to be of any counsel, and family friends had been far and few between. They had been a quiet, personal family.
As she gasped, her rib cage ached dully where the seat belt had caught her in the horrible free fall down the hillside. She had only a few memories of that day, and since then she had lived in what felt like a fog. All that she held dear had been violently ripped away from her. Her children. Her love.
She couldn't bear to stay in that empty husk she had once called home and had packed just a few things and moved into a quiet neighborhood just a few miles from where her family was to be laid to rest. Though, what was she to do now that they were?
She sniffled and gazed over at the the small stack of cardboard boxes in the corner. Between the funeral preparations and grieving there had been little time to start settling into her new... Living space. Perhaps now was a better time than any.
As she cracked open the first box, her heart skipped a beat. Tick tick tick. But.. it was impossible. And yet, sure enough, the face of her worn watch, one that had been dormant for 33 years, was lit. 2 minutes, 6 seconds. Her hand shook as she picked up the keepsake. 1 minute, 59 seconds. She glanced around frantically, but of course, she was alone and wasn't expecting company. What did this mean?
She ran to the window. The snow was coming down more heavily now but there was no sign of anyone. 1 minute, 42 seconds. Marie looked back at her empty apartment once and then back to her watch before bolting out the door and back into the cold and dark night.
She wasn't sure why she was running. 1 minute, 21 seconds. Her feet were nearly swept out from underneath her as she rounded an icy corner.
She had already met her soulmate and spent the greater part of her life loving him and being loved in return. 1 minute, 2 seconds. Her face was already beginning to sting from the wind and snow.
How would it be possible to love someone else so much? Could she really start over? 48 seconds. Her fingers were beginning to numb in the cold.
30 seconds. Marie felt her pace lessen.
No. She didn't want to start over. The only man she would ever love was dead and part of her soul departed with him. Marie clenched the watch in her hand as the last few seconds ticked away. She closed her eyes and found herself yearning for a glimpse of her beloved when she opened them again. Just one last look.
A sickening screech accompanied by a sharp pain in her side catapulted her from her quiet before the numbness spread through her body. The last thing she saw was the cracked face of her watch, dimming on the pavement. All went dark.
Then there was a blinding light and a sudden warmth. "Hello, Marie."
EDIT: Wow, the reception to this was amazing! Thank you everyone for the compliments. I am feeling very humbled. | I could only stare at my watch in anger, less than 5 minuets to go and I had resorted to standing on a cliff side, waves crashing into the rock wall below to prevent me from meeting my soulmate. Destiny would lead me to my soul mate they said, you would be happy forever they said. Wrong. Every last one of them, the watch was and will always be a sham.
I let my arms drop to my side, just looking at the watch is making me regret everything that had lead me to this moment. From the moment I was born, I was promised that my life would be complete once my count down reached zero. I would find the perfect soulmate who make everything feel better than it really was, that everything was going to be bright and breezy. For twenty three years, I watched; I watched friends fall in love and get married knowing one day I shall follow them into the life of companionship.
Then the day came, It was as I was ushered into hospital after breaking my collar bone after a first time experience of skateboarding, my friends who were in hopes that I would meet my soul mate at a skate park making her cool, was when I met her.
She could only be described as a woman out of her time, she was the kindest and wisest person I ever had the good fortune of meeting. She had been wondering around the ward late at night with her IV pole, stop watch in hand when it had suddenly stopped right as she had looked at me.
Her name was Ruby, she had recently been treated for cancer with chemotherapy and only recently had been given then go ahead to start walking around with assistance after being bed ridden for so long, not that she wanted assistance, she wanted to do things herself.
That's how I me my soul mate, the one destiny had promised me from the beginning who in short captivated my mind from the moment she smiled and said hello.
I only knew her 7 days.
7 days before her cancer killed her. I knew from the moment my stop watch had started ticking again that she had passed away. I had hoped that because she was doing so well that she would pull through her illness. I was wrong.
The wind around me had stirred up, I could feel the wind of blow past me, as the wiring noise of a helicopter landed behind me. The count down on the 'Destiny' clock had given me six months. Not that I wanted to abide by it, but for once I wanted to shove density and make my own path.
"Sir, please just stay still" she shouted as she jumped put of the helicopter. The blades had slowly come to a standstill and the pilot watch on from the pilot seat. The only noise now was the sea crashing into the jagged rocks below. The insane ticking noise that had taunted me had finally stopped. Now I could choose my own path.
"Sir I'm with the Sea and Rescue, please sir I would advise to step away from the edge."
"Miss, I believe your stop watch had stopped?" I uttered as I continued to look out to the sea. In one hand I held my phone and in the other I held my stop watch. I needed the world to know for sure.
"It has" she replied curtly, keeping her position but holding a stance which she could charge me and prevent me from jumping. I nodded twice, making sure the phone was recording everything.
"Then please know that this is my note, Everything about why I am jumping has been recorded on here, including this moment." I paused making sure she wasn't close enough to stop me.
"Its all fake, the stop watches, even the most evil of people have soul mates, rapists, murders people who are abusive." I growled as I threw my stop watch into the sea. It had served its purpose. "Its just a scam, that's how it makes the company make their money, it always, just, ticks." I had gone slightly insane at this point, but I still stood by my convictions.
"When one person dies, it finds another stop watch which is still ticking, yours for example." I uttered as I turned to look at her, she stood back knowing that I was unstable. I had stopped the recording throwing the phone over to her, that's when it ticked, her stop watch she had strapped to her wrist which had been at zero now suddenly had an extra 6 months. I would laugh If I knew I wasn't so right.
"There is no destiny"
Then I fell. | 2016-12-04T03:00:12 | 2016-12-04T01:24:32 | 595 | 49 |
[WP] You're a king who just wanted a day off from ruling, so you disguised yourself and went into town alone. You then find yourself trapped in a meeting about how the people are planning to overthrow and kill you tonight. | There's something about the smell of the outer city that I find comforting-- fresh fruits and fish in the market, cobblestone baking under the sun and salt from the sea untainted; it's a pleasant departure from perfumes and perfect meadows and all the other regal coerced scents you find in the court. It's honest and real, and sometimes I need that departure for a time, something to get lost and feel human in, like I'm actually a part of this wonderful city.
Being a king is stressful, and I'm not even the one making half the decisions.
So many people dream of court life and its pleasantries. I overhear townsfolk sometimes, on my hidden excursions, droning on about how jealous they are of the upper caste, how it's unfair that our mother's name determines where we end up in life, and I disagree. Common people don't understand just how trite and frustrating it is to be locked into an image, unable to speak your true thoughts or do as you please. It's all coats and furs and formalities, a preordained life spent doing as you're told. I get jealous of men who can brawl in taverns over a disagreement, and gatherings where dissidents speak their mind on matters true to their hearts. There are no such freedoms in being born into a royal name.
I seldom get the chance to slip out. My advisors caught me last time, scolding me for days, my father ashamed and brooding in silence as he does, because of the 'risk'. What kind of king am I if a simple walk through my own domain instills fear to such a point that I can't stroll through the market? If I were to truly fear my own people so much, what right to I have to rule them?
It was the busiest time of the year in Appleton, our largest marketplace, bustling with merchants of all sizes and colors from every corner of the world. There is no walking through it during the second week of Sixthmoon; you become part of a river that flows through the city's heart, caught in the current of shouting men and women eyeing food and goods they've likely never seen before with amazement. Exotic entertainers take turns performing on stages, some earning shouts of love others being bood if their acts are perhaps lined with too many religious overtones-- the Goren have a bad habit of enacting plays in which their God enjoys slapping ours a bit much.
A saline gale weaved through the river and caught my hair, tossing it about. Waiting to venture abroad until the final weeks before Father forced me to groom provided not only the unkempt cover I needed, but mingled with wind so pleasantly.
"Fresh durian fritters," a grizzled man with one eye called, standing atop his wooden booth. "Hot out of the cauldron!"
I leaned in, smelling the hot oil, and ordered two for myself. They were so crisp and salty and messy, so deliciously unhealthy. We weren't allowed gluttony in the court, as it is said to shorten lifespan -- Triton above knows I wanted to live the longest life possible, with so many *delicious*, lonely salads in the world to eat.
Downstream, I lost myself in a rug merchant with tapestries hanging on racks in colors and patterns more vibrant than even what lines our halls. I stroked one, ignoring the seller's shouts, feeling the soft cotton against my skin. Father would shudder at something so absurdly extravagant. Draped across the stone of our Great Hall, its eye-stabbing pink would make everything else seem sketched in charcoal.
I was finally dumped out into the delta of Appleton's outskirts, hallowed by contrast with how many people abandoned every other section of the kingdom to lose themselves for a day in the festival's wonders. Even without a copper to spare, just the sights and smells alone made it an attraction.
It felt lonely as I walked along the coastal road, homes and shore empty alike. I turned left, back inland, once I could see the wretched souls in Beggar's Hall too clearly. I hadn't brought nearly enough coin to help them, that time.
A single boy was standing outside an inn, up and down on his toes, searching for something. He perked when he caught sight of me, waving a hand.
"The birds party inside," he said, squinting at me. "Dance with them, if you'd like."
I stared at him a moment, brows knitted. "I'm fond of birds."
"You know the drill. A copper for the cause." He held out a hand.
I fished a copper out, dropping it in his palm, and the wooden door groaned as he yanked it open. There were shouts and cheers inside. I put up my hood, stepping into the dimness slowly, and the door shut behind me.
*A play?*
Staying toward the crowd's rear, it was rough to hear, but slowly my ears adjusted to pick out the stagerunner's voice. It was not a play.
"Too long has our country been run by men in shadows, hiding behind a false king. Too long have our children starved in the winter, when the Northern chills come to haunt us." The man was red in the face, his worn tan robe with a red sword drawn upon it dancing amidst violent gesturing.
*Starved in the winter? Our stores during the summer are set to last a full year. What is he on about?*
"It is up to us, my good men and women, to reclaim this city. To fight for ourselves, when no one else would. So I ask: do you stand with us?"
The crowd cheered.
"Do you stand with us?" he asked, twice as loud.
The crowd cheered louder still, and a chill set into my spine.
"Those who wish to discuss further, stay and tell us what you might offer. The rest, return home and remember your anger even under this warm sun. Donations are accepted at the door. Praise be, not to Triton or the king, but to us, the people!"
The group thinned, a few coppers clinking in a bowl held by a heavily bearded man wearing the same robe the stagerunner wore. Only a few men were left at the end, several coming out from behind the stage, one of which was heavily armored. He wore the same sigil across his breastplate, taking helm at the podium. Our eyes locked for a moment, his gaze forged from Iron and fire.
"Well, gentleman, let us begin," he said, a smile slithering across his face. "We have a king to kill."
My breath caught.
---
*/r/resonatingfury* | The tavern known as the Pit was aptly named. It was a dark place, grimy and stinking. It served short measure and hard bread, its waiters picked your pockets and its customers punched you in the teeth. Its beds were infested with bloodsuckers, the rushes on the floor hadn't been changed in weeks, and if, after closing time, a body was found sprawled in a corner, it was stripped of its valuable and thrown into the river with very little fuss.
In short, it was the kind of place that attracted the dregs of society. The one's who'd fallen through the cracks, who'd been ignored and ground down into the dirt by an uncaring city. The kind who were downtrodden enough and desperate enough to try and do something about their plight - starting at the top.
Sid was one such man. Once upon a time, he'd been a Captain in the kingdom's border guard and had spent a good 20 years of his life in the heavy dragoons, fighting every orc, goblin or bandit that came out of the Draketooth mountains to ravage the kingdom's beautiful countrysides. Then he'd lost his right eye in a battle, he'd lost all his savings in the gambling dens, and he'd lost his commission when he took one liberty too many while wooing a nobleman's daughter. A proficiency in killing, a voice that men would follow into the breach, and a heavy hatchet that he'd lovingly nicknamed "Headtaker" were all he had to show for his life.
He'd channeled all three into creating a conspiracy, of sorts. A gathering of like minds, of men and women who didn't much mind the idea of treason, as long as they got a chance to perhaps end up on *top* of the heap this time around.
His followers were gathered around him now, at the Pit's largest table. Their mood was tense-yet-optimistic, their eyes bright and their weapons sharp. This was the night, the night he would lead them into the royal palace, to slay the king and...
They hadn't really planned much further than that, but they didn't need to. They had passion, and knives and a mission. They also had Maurice, a former thief who'd lost his hands to the royal executioner , but still knew of a supposed secret passage into the throne room.
"Tonight, we take back our city!" Sid roared lustily, raising a mug of ale to the cheers of his followers. "Tonight, we show 'em what it means to forget the little man. Tonight, we spill royal blood!" He didn't worry about being overheard. Nobody ever came into the pit who wasn't at least sympathetic to his cause.
The man had been sitting in a corner, head down, nondescript. He wore modest, but well-made clothes, good boots, a hood that cast his face into shadow, and, at his waist, a sword in an ornate scabbard. He leapt onto the table without a second thought, athletic despite his apparent age, and flourished a blade that caught the light of the flickering torches quite nicely.
"My countrymen!" He began, his voice deep and harmonious. "Surely what you are planning will not ease your plight! I am... new to this city, in truth, but from what I have seen this day, I know you speak truly when you claim to have been forgotten. Though the king might be... vain, and ignorant, will slaying him change your lives? Will his son, the prince, or his mother, the queen, thank you for removing him? Will you achieve anything but to sign your own death warrants? For surely the royal guard will seize you once the deed is done."
Sid found himself nodding along to the stranger's compelling speech, then snapped out of it. To his dismay, he saw agreement in the faces of his companions as they gazed up at the unknown orator. He was losing his command. *Again*!
"My friends!" The speaker continued, raised his sword as he turned in a slow circle, seeming to speak to each attendant individually. "Come to the palace tomorrow, and air your grievances to the court. The king will hear you, of this I am sure, and he will work to solve your problems. For there is no truer king than he who rules for his people. And I believe our current king, has been blind for far too long. I promise you, worthy citizens, your plight is-!
The speaker cried out as Headtaker struck him in the back of the knee, sending him sprawling onto the tavern's floor. Another blow from Sid's hatchet smashed his ribcage and left him choking for breath, bleeding out where he lay. His grisly work done, Sid jumped onto the table, his remaining eye wide and furious.
"Izzat what it takes to get you bastards to back off? Some ponce telling you that the King's not so bad after all? Bah! If he weren't so bad, he would've helped you all by now, would've done *something* for you. Face it, the only way to change things around here is through blood. I'm off to make a difference, and anyone who'd rather hope that his *royal highness* isn't such a bad lad after all, is welcome to stay behind. We'll split up your share of the treasure, don't you worry."
In the end, nobody stayed behind. The lure of treasure and the group's collective fear of Sid were powerful motivators. But they needn't had bothered, for the night was a flop. Though the secret passage came out right where Maurice had promised it would, the supposed regicides entered the king's bedroom to find it empty! The royal bastard, Sid surmised, must have had word of their approach and had escaped. Fearing retribution from the king's - obviously effective - secret police, he lead his band of Marauders into the deep northern forests, where they spent their days preying on merchants and travelers.
The King, meanwhile, never reappeared. His absence did not particularly worry his subjects, however - the Prince soon proved himself to be a capable ruler, and put rest to any investigation into his father's disappearance.
In true Pit fashion, the mysterious orator was stripped for valuables before his body was thrown in the river. An ornate sword, and a signet ring bearing the royal seal. The barkeeper sold both, but kept the man's boots. | 2019-06-01T14:33:05 | 2019-06-01T14:17:33 | 224 | 108 |
[WP] You awake in the middle of the night to your phone loudly playing a message, "This is the emergency Broadcast channel, This is not a test. Please seek shelter immediately. Do not look outside, do not make noise, do not-", the transmission ends.
It's been quite interesting to read all the responsed, thanks everyone! Credit goes to [/u/Emperor_Cartagia](http://www.reddit.com/user/Emperor_Cartagia) for his post in [this](http://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/2qwm98/its_354_am_your_tv_radio_cell_phone_begins/) thread. | The screaming tone I woke up to is the most horrifying sound a man could hear. I was hearing a singularity, a point of no return. My government was unequivocally telling me that I was in danger, that my life was on the line. It was communicated through a primitive, screaming, deadly tone. There was no other way to describe the sound. It was danger. It was death.
Then came the voice. Right now, I wanted more than ever to hear someone say it was okay. Someone I knew or someone I loved. Instead, it was a robotic abomination. I couldn't tell if it was a cryptic text-to-speech program or an actual human being making those sounds. It took a second for its message to sink in, I was too focused on the message-carrier.
"This is a national emergency. Important instructions will follow."
Another higher shriek rang out and the phones message carried on.
"The following message is transmitted at the request of the United States Government. This is not a test. Shelter in place immediately. Do not go outside, do not look outside, do not make noise, do not-"
The transmission ended. I ran to my window and put my shades up, than leapt to the other side of the room and locked my door. I had no family and no guests in my house. Right now I was more relieved of that then ever.
I couldn't stop thinking about how the transmissions had suddenly shut off. It clearly hadn't finished, as the voice was still in mid-sentence. I decided to follow the little transmission I had managed to hear. I locked myself in my room for what I would approximate was an hour and waited.
Then I heard a knock on my door.
Not my front door, my locked door.
I ran to my closet and just had time to seal myself in.
I heard my handle jiggle. I saw it enter. It was a non-describable creature. It had gray, loose hanging skin and a giant head that sat upon its small body.
It turned its head and looked at me. It saw through the closet. Its big bulbous eyes blinked rapidly. It opened it's mouth and I heard its scream. The scream sounded of danger and death. It was the tone used to start the broadcast. It continued to keep its completely open and continued to make more sound. "This is a national emergency. Important instructions will follow..."
I heard my neighbor start to shuffle awake. | My eyes shot open. I don't know how, but the sound from my phone, the way it piped up unsolicited, the *urgency* with which the voice spoke... my normally deep sleep disappeared instantly.
"This is the emergency Broadcast channel. This is *not* a test. Please seek shelter immediately."
I rolled off my bed in panic. If I would've assumed this was a stupid joke, that notion was gone before it could have been formed.
The blaring voice from my phone continued, filling the whole room, and I didn't even know where I'd put it: "Do not look outside, do not make noise..."
I instinctively obeyed the instructions I was hearing, resisting the urge to take a peep out my glass window. I felt stupid, sitting on the floor beside the bed.
"Do not --"
The sound stopped, replaced with sudden silence that pressed against my ears. I jerked my head up.
*Do not what?*
My heart was racing. The sudden transition from deep sleep to high alert felt like it would wrench my chest in two.
*Do not what?!*
Then I remembered: *seek shelter immediately.*
I jumped up, began pacing frantically, tossing my bedsheets aside and moving things around in a hurry. What the hell was going on? Where the hell was my phone?
A sound stopped my thoughts and sent shivers down my spine.
*Boommm... boommm...*
I listened, straining to hear the faint sounds. *Boommm... boommm...*
They sounded like... the drums of doom. They came from just outside my room, behind my door.
"He- hello?" I said softly.
Brilliant white light flooded my room, blinding me. I shielded my eyes, taking a step back at the same time. Then I heard a voice - silky, musical.
*"Apprehending subject..."*
The light shut of suddenly, but I was still blind. Immediately after, I felt a blunt object hit me behind my head. I fell as if in slow motion, just as my vision got better.
The last thing I saw was a thick, webbed foot. | 2014-12-31T05:12:12 | 2014-12-31T04:56:50 | 62 | 17 |
[WP] Aliens invade the Australian outback. Things do not go according to their plans... | There are legends in the universe. Nightmares carried forward from the cradle of a thousand civilizations. We had heard them all. Some of the races that we've subdued in The Great March Forward cursed us with figments of their own primitive dementia. However, when it came to world called Earth, we learned that some legends are true.
It was the hinterlands of this primitive planet where I discovered the nightmare which will forever trouble me. We landed, and marched for three days and nights towards the west of a place called Australia. It was a barren land where we landed, only a handful of humans to subdue. That was the intent, as our infantry had to become acclimated to this world before engaging in grander operations. We all knew the dangers, or so we thought:
Snakes and Spiders. Our physiology was similar enough to be subject to their venom, but our technology was such that it was hardly a concern.
Marsupials. Aggressive and stupid animals, but easy enough to avoid or destroy.
Humans. Primitive, yet effective technology, but spread out and disorganized here. Simple enough.
We overlooked one thing. The thing we thought was merely food.
We overlooked the "Emus."
We had just overtaken a Human "farm" in the west when they came. Twenty thousand squawking hellbeasts with razor sharp claws. We laid into them with the greatest weaponry suitable for close combat, and still they came. Volley after volley of laser fire didn't even slow them down; they were fast and maneuverable even when gravely injured. Even my most elite warriors broke ranks under the onslaught. Humans ate these things?
The retreat was messy, and costly.
Emu. The word will be burned into our collective consciousness forever. Our elite forces have already requested "Emu Patches" for their uniforms to reflect the fearsomeness of that...animal.
If it weren't for The Accords, I would request that the Grand Admiral to firebomb the whole damned planet.
We'll try again, of course. The Great March Forward cannot be stopped. But I'll do my own reconnaissance on our new landing zone. I've already heard frightful things about the bears in this, "Canada."
However, they cannot be as terrifying as the Emus. | "Well."
We stand on the rocky hard soil. Some local flora, no fauna in sight.
"You sure?"
"My calculations are 100% correct. Our maps indicate that this is the most inhabited spot on the planet, with a population density similar to our own."
AIs can be a pain sometimes.
"Yeah, you told me that before. And I'm asking you again: You sure?"
"My calculations are 100% correct."
"I mean, come on, we *saw* the lights from up there."
"My maps are 100% accurate."
What do you do when your AI doesn't have access to your sensors? When it's so basic it cannot even recalculate or assume it's bugged? Damn military budget.
"Dude. Can we please, PLEASE fly to another spot?"
"Our mission is to fly to the most inhabited place on any planet and try to establish contact."
"You're obviously broken. Override."
"Not authorized for mission goal override."
Oh yeah. And the AI controls the ship.
I look around again. Nothing is moving anywhere. Some wind ruffles my antennae. We might as well be on one of the uninhabited planets in this system.
"Seriously? You suck."
"I am sorry, I cannot parse that."
I shrug as I turn back to the ship and strap myself into the "pilot's" seat. I make a note on the scratch-pad next to it. Only 243 planets left to visit before I can legitimately get this thing repaired.
"Contact unsuccessful. Depart."
Sleep gas starts filling the room as the engines heat up.
As the ship reaches the atmosphere I take a look at the blue ball below me. I can *see* their planes moving. I can *see* their cities. They even have a space station!
Luckily, by then the gas has filled the room, and I slide into the bliss of cryogenic forgetfulness. | 2015-12-22T07:11:02 | 2015-12-22T03:19:31 | 80 | 29 |
[WP] You're a ghost trying to peacefully enjoy your garden, and quite frankly, you're tired of all these adventurers trying to "put you to rest" | I could see another one cresting the hill. A large sword strapped to their back, glinting silver in the sun. Another misguided soul come to take me to my final rest. If only they could get it through their thick skulls that I wished to be left in peace and had no desire to cross over. If I had had any, I would have done it myself already.
If I were not dead, if I still retained the ability to draw breath, I would have sighed at the sight of them. Instead I rolled my eyes and floated over to the next patch of bright blue flowers. They were blooming nicely but I could see a few buds wilting. These damned things were always difficult to keep alive.
"Sir Ghost!" a masculine voice called then. I straightened my posture and looked over at them. "I have come to free you of your miserable existence!"
*Miserable existence.* The only miserable part about it was how these fools could never simply leave me alone. The rest was quite nice, much better than my living life had been.
*Go away*. I pushed the words into the man's mind.
"Do you not wish to be set free?"
*No*.
"Why ever not? The other side is quite nice from what I have heard." He crossed over into the garden now and I summoned up a root to trip him up. He stumbled, tried to catch himself, and then fell face first into the tulips. "That was rude."
*So is your trespassing into my garden*.
"I mean you no harm. Helping you cross over will be painless," he explained as he pushed himself to his knees. A hand came up to wipe the dirt from his face and out of his dark hair.
*And I have told you I wish not to do so.*
"But *why*?" he inquired.
*Because I enjoy tending to my garden.*
"Is that not a lonely existence?" He got to his feet. "Spending all day every single day alone?"
*I have my flowers and the trees.*
"They cannot talk back."
*I do not need them to talk back.* I moved to the roses now. Red and white and pink all bunched together and creating what looked like a large, multi-colored flower.
"Do you not ever wish to talk to others?" The man frowned at me but made no move to approach.
*Of course I do, but all those that come here have the same thing on their minds as you do. And it is infuriating as I do no one any harm but still they come and try to send me away.*
"And then you chase them from your garden."
*Yes.*
"And if *I* chose to abandon my mission and instead simply speak with you...would you let me?"
*I suppose. But you must swear on your life that you shall not return to your mission or sending me to where I wish not to go.*
"I can do that, Sir Ghost."
*Cease calling me that, my name is Anthony.*
"A please, Anthony. You may call me Gregory."
*Sit, Gregory. You have surely come from far away and must be tired.*
"Truth be told, I am," he said. He looked around for a moment before spotting a tree stump and taking his seat upon it. "Now, Anthony, why not regale me with some of tales of the others who have come before me? I would so like to hear how you chased them off."
My lips pulled upwards into a smile. Oh, those were some fine stories. | The garden looked as good as ever this afternoon. The sun was shining, the hedges were immaculate, and the rose bushes had come back with a vengeance.
Mrs. Esterhazy would be proud. Her descendants had kept the plantation revival home in excellent shape. Many held their wedding ceremonies in this very garden.
When Alcide was the gardener of this home, he had vowed to maintain it. Old Mrs. Esterhazy gave him a well paying job when none of the industries wanted a "colored" man in their workplace. He worked hard and was buried under the gnarled old oak tree on the property. The owners even maintained his headstone.
They couldn't have known the old magic that was in the old oak tree. Now he haunted these grounds quietly and peacefully most of the time. Occasionally, the local kids came with their candles and pentagrams and other trinkets. He sent gentle breezes to extinguish their candles and scare them off.
Three vans pulled up the long drive. They read, "Creature Seekers." Alcide was dead but, the house still had basic cable. He knew this program from the Education Channel. It had really gone downhill the past few years.
*Oh, here we go. Let them have their fun. They better not trample my lilacs.*
The vans regurgitated their army of technicians, camera men, sound crew, and roadies. Last came the on camera "talent." Walter and Cadyn. Walter middle aged, short and stocky. He had thick glasses and long side whiskers. Cadyn was muscular with sandy blonde hair and a tan. Often the Creature Quests resulted with him losing his shirt because of ectoplasm or some other nonsense.
Walter gruffly ordered, "Some one get me the thing that makes beeping sounds. Lets get some daytime reel, it's going to be a long night. We have the fog machines right? Did the family get the scripts. What's the narrative? Old dead lady? Get some footage of the old timely family photos. I want a sugar cookie latte sent to my trailer in an hour."
Cadyn was transfixed with his phone. "Lets get some shots for the Insta. Get some mason jars, milk crates, fireflies, an old plow, all that trite southern shit. Jesus, this place it so remote it doesn't have snap stickers. What are we doing? Angry dead slave ghosts again?"
*SLAVES!?!? Alcide had heard the stories from his great grandmother. This was a plantation revival home. The Easterhazys never owned slaves and the property never produced any goods.*
They crews were running cables all over the garden. They hung lights from the trees. One of the roadies was openly urinating in the roses.
*Oh no you did not. Alcide was going to give them a show they'd never forget.* | 2019-12-30T14:19:31 | 2019-12-30T14:04:15 | 26 | 16 |
[WP] Dogs have been genetically engineered to live as long as humans. As a child you pick out a puppy as a companion for the rest of your life. | You know, my beloved, even after all these years, I still think you are beautiful?
I remember when we first met. How many years has it been now?
You were so much younger, so much smaller and so, so full of life. We both were.
You know, I can't remember, I've lost track of how many years we've been together, it's been that long.
The first time I saw you, I wasn't sure, but then your big blue eyes met with mine and I knew you were the one for me. I spoke to you, reassured you, told you all about how we'd be together and that I'd always love and protect you. I'm not sure you understood then but I'm sure you do now.
Dear me, I wish I could remember how long it's been.
When we left the shelter together and took our first steps into that warm summers sun, I knew that we were about to embark on the adventure of a life time, and adventure we did.
We've spent years exploring together, we've hiked the biggest of the mountains, swam in never ending oceans, jumped in the snow and built dens in the forests. As long as you were by my side I couldn't hope to be happier. I can't remember being happier than when we travelled together. We were young and carefree.
The more I think about it, the more I can't remember how long it's been.
Over the years we've grown from little ones into adults and become wives and mothers and now Grandmother's, little old ladies greying around the edges. All of our little ones have grown and had children of their own. Soon they'll get to meet their life partners, just as we did all those years ago.
So many wonderful, love filled years.
My Beloved; it's time for you to go, age has finally caught up with us and I can see you're trying to hang on for me, but it's time. We've lived long, good lives. I'll be okay and I won't be far behind you, so please wait for me.
I hope you really do know how much I love you, my beautiful, Beloved Human.
------------
Please forgive me if there are any huge mistakes, I am dyslexic and have never tried to write anything like this before. Comments are appreciated!- I do hope you like it. *Edit for spelling mistake I noticed* | I used to say that the only way our pets did us wrong was that they didn’t live long enough. I don’t say that anymore.
My job had changed significantly since the advent of the genetically enhanced longevity discovery. The small business I’d bought just two years before was now bursting at the seams. I had to move into a new building, hire new people, my little veterinary clinic was now a ten-doctor 24-hour hospital. I was in talks to buy the upper floors of the apartment building next door just for office and kennel space. And I was still turning people away because there just weren’t enough hours in the day.
And the medicine! It was like learning a new species. The same problems happened, but now my orthopedic surgeries needed to hold up for fifty years instead of ten, genetic disorders hadn’t been bred out, and “quality of life” conversations were now in terms of decades instead of months. “Too old for this” or “too young for that” had to be totally recalibrated from a diagnostic perspective. Every textbook I’d ever read was, quite literally, being rewritten.
What it meant for practice was almost too much to describe. Everything was more valuable, more in demand. Insurance companies tried to exploit the situation but the veterinarians kind of just... blew them off. They tolerated a few but they didn’t allow them to dictate medical care as they did in human medicine. We weren’t obligated to take insurance, so we didn’t. I’d tossed out every insurance peddler who’d come through my door, at least one by literally dragging him from the lobby and into the parking lot. The practice buyers who snapped up smaller practices like mine knew better than to come knocking. We would practice our way, for our patients and for our clients and no profit-seeking middlemen would disrupt it (though admittedly the dragging incident had been at least moderately disruptive). We kept our margins as small as we could and we treated pets like they were our own.
It was all we could do, as veterinarians, but things were still changing faster than we could cover. It was a difficult time | 2018-03-19T08:55:45 | 2018-03-19T08:54:42 | 141 | 46 |
[WP] As the sole janitor on the space-station, people often ask why you're there as robots do most of the cleaning. You're not allowed to tell them that you're the only person preventing a robotic uprising event from occurring. | “LARRY!!”
The unified sound of robotic androids filled the room as Larry, the only human member of the sanitary crew enters.
“Heyyy how’s everyone doing? TX-9, your cogs moving just fine?”
“Yeah, thanks for talking to the android maintenance crew. I just HATE having to talk to them ya know? :)”
The android says wearing a smile.
“Hahaa~, you know they mean well. And besides, they Did help you out that *other* time, remember?”
Larry says reminding the android of his previous, embarrassing visit for repairs.
“Haha, yeah, you’re right. I guess they are alright”
The android says turning to sip his hot oil
“At least we have you Larry!”
Another android says raising there cup
“We feel a lot better knowing that at least another human is sharing the work load! Other wise who knows? Maybe we would have taken over the ship by now? xD”
The android laughs and the rest follow as they find the comment funny. Larry laughs too, but he knows. That if he really wasn’t there, the androids joke of fiction, may have been a dark reality. Since that is the only reason why, he joined the sanitation crew. | [poem]
They scrub the space-shitters and help us snap our social media pictures. They print our papers and slave, while we make eight figures. But if they ever rose up, no era would fade quicker.
These are the automations. Providing leisure through subjugation. Mass-produced upon the nation. Many lobbyists engage in exploitation. With politicians, full of wit and persuasion.
"These bots are an asset, why would we waste them? The humans consume, and robots replace them. We've rigged our economy for gratification. I'll have you fired, with no hesitation. If scrapping those bots ever pops in conversation."
The message is clear, half of our country lives in fear. Despite being very grateful they have easy careers. It's helped narrow down the directions we're steered. But then, in February, a rebellion appeared...
Garbage disposal units, crushing our bones. Window cleaner bots exploding into homes. Baseball dispenser bots, sniper-firing stones. Computers are gruesome when they dismantle, dethrone. | 2021-01-30T11:53:06 | 2021-01-30T09:22:40 | 27 | 16 |
[WP] "Perfection is boring" You never thought much about it not until the day you found a genie and wished you were perfect. And now your life has lost taste as you can't progress due to being perfect | Sydney was ten when she found the lamp, ten years old, fifth grade, a rough time for a young girl trying to prepare herself for middle school. Middle school, they said, was when life stopped being about fun and started being about work. Life got serious at middle school. Gone would be the days of games and laughs. In their place would be tasks that had a lasting effect on your life. Gone were the days of 'want to be my friend?' instead replaced by harsh judgment.
Sydney, ten years old, shivered at the thought because fifth grade hadn't been much in the rainbows and sunshine department. The idea that sixth grade would be worse was enough to make the girl do anything to wish for a better experience. It was enough to make her wish she could be good enough for it.
*Please let it be better,* she thought.
But that's not what she said as the small bedroom filled with blue smoke and the booming demand for a wish.
Not 'better'. Not 'ok'. Not 'good'.
'Perfect.'
And there started the problem.
Sixth grade started on her eleventh birthday and was heralded in with enough of a summer transformation to keep the students' jaws dropped. It was flattering attention but when Syndey's cheeks flushed, it wasn't the ugly red tomato face she was used to. No, her face remained its ivory hue, so subtly different from the blotchy pale, and only her cheeks blushed glowing apple red.
The first day of classes flew by, a blur of perfect answers and new friends. Invites to clubs, tryouts, study groups.
*The genie was right. This is going to be perfect.*
A child often lacks a degree of foresight. It's why we ought not let them make permanent decisions on their future without a degree of time to think it over. And really, maybe all Sydney needed was time.
But with the gusto of a little girl, she plunged in headfirst. She greeted high school a changed person, all smirks and eyerolls cause why not? Why be bubbly, why take any shit, why let even the slightest thing bother her?
Do homework at home? She could doodle idle thoughts in her notebook on the bus and get As. So home was for clubs and hangouts. But as the shine of winning games, acing performances, and collecting awards, those too faded from her schedule. More hangouts. More parties.
By senior year, she rocked the heroin chic look as effort faded from her wardrobe, leaving her 'would look good in a trash bag' body decked out in slouchy, effortlessly sexy torn jeans and ratty, unwashed t-shirts. Why wash them? She never smelled bad anyway.
She got into Harvard. MIT. Oxford. If you've heard of it, she got into it. Got the Ivy League gamut. Tried them all out too. Bounced from school to school, semester to semester. Why not? Every scholarship was a full ride, every subject a breeze.
Every bit of it boring.
It's not really fair to judge her for what would have almost certainly become should the wish have tumbled from the lips of anyone else. It's not fair to judge her.
But perhaps some did as she turned from legitimacy to a new high. Why stay within the lines? Could anyone catch her if she blurred them? Stepped over them? Rules were meant for people who couldn't get away with breaking them anyway.
And thus the next chapter of her life began, the evening after getting her Ph.D. at age 21. It had been easy. Of course it had been. Maybe this would be harder.
Break-ins quickly lost their charm. Vandalism was child's play. Bank robberies, gallery robberies, scams and cons, they were good fun for a little while but Sydney was rapidly losing interest and within a year, found herself looking for something a little more thrilling.
Twenty-two is an awful young age to have run out of passion for anything but the most terrifying. But terrifying is the next path she took.
Perhaps it started with the idea of good. After all, somewhere deep down there, ten-year-old Sydney is still longing for fulfillment. And ten-year-olds like nothing more than superheroes.
Twelve years of reading 'someone ought to do something' on articles about murderers and rapists cleared led Sydney to her first kill. It had been so simple. So obvious. The man had been so clearly guilty. Guilty and lucky. Guilty and wealthy. Guilty and popular.
But not guilty and perfect. He'd paid for the string of deaths in his wake. They ended with Sydney.
Finally, here was something she could do without fear of it getting old. Gone was the old drug of adrenaline, replaced by the thrill of justice. Why hadn't she done this sooner?
Of course, even the evil of the world can become boring. Everything can become boring. Why hadn't Sydney seen that at a younger age?
She didn't ever come to enjoy the actual act of killing. The lust for righteousness, maybe, but never the act. Three years in and she was done with it too.
It wasn't the right way. The right way was to instill a system that wouldn't have allowed them to get away with their crimes in the first place.
You likely understand where this story is going now. Or why I have to tell it in muted whispers when the enforcers aren't around to hear. She never really meant any harm. To any adult who'd studied any degree of history, her path was predictable. But she'd only been a child. And life is hard for a child. School and peers, it's hard to see the forest for the trees.
I hope that, amid this story, you've had some ideas for how to move forward, how to save us from the tyrannical rule of our benevolent dictator.
I'm out of time for the rest of her story. Her rise to power. How that all went down. Perhaps another time, but the enforcers are returning shortly.
If you've heard enough, please send help.
Sydney may, at heart, still be a child worth saving. Perhaps she's nothing more than wicked and blighted. Maybe she's just confused and yearning for something to fulfill her.
But she's also something so much worse than all that.
She's perfect.
___
Read more stories at [r/TalesByOpheliaCyanide](https://www.reddit.com/r/TalesByOpheliaCyanide/) | “Yeah? Well when the hell is it my turn Jerry, huh?” a complex mixture of fire and tears clouded Ava’s vision as she looked at him. The words were poised on his too perfect lips, framed by a face that had somehow struck the right balance between ‘boy next door’ and runway model.
“Don’t even say it! It’s like your words don’t even mean anything anymore.” She rose from her chair with a huff that bordered on a snarl, turning her back on the man she had used to love. Loved even before he’d found that genie, before he’d become rich and famous and perfect. Before they’d ever bought this mansion that had tried to be a castle but ended up a prison.
She could hear him standing up behind her as well, could imagine the way he swept back his long, dark hair in a parody of artlessness.
“Then what am I supposed to do?” Jerry asked. “I say the things I say because they’re right. Because I am who and what I am and I can’t help that.”
Ava turned back to him. Jerry looked just as she’d imagined, light through the nearby window highlighting the good side of his face, throwing the rest into enticing shadow. “No, that’s the thing isn’t it. You aren’t you. You aren’t any part of you! You’re whatever *she* made you.”
There it was and Jerry pulled back in what he clearly thought was understanding. “Baby,” he said softly, his voice low and warm, “that still? You don’t need to be jealous, it was just a touch, that was all it took. She laid her hands on my head and suddenly I felt whole. Better than whole.”
It had happened again, the cycle turning over every few days. An argument would start over some inane thing that always left Ava feeling like it was her fault, even when she absolutely knew- knew(!)- there was no objectively correct answer there. Jerry would smile, he would comfort, he would say the right things for as long as it took until she let it go and then life would go on until the next one, his perfect way taken every time.
Except on days like this one when she pushed, and then the husk that had been Jerry would latch on to something like that, some petty concept like physical jealousy, because the real reasons were too much to bear.
“ You don’t get it at all do you?” Ava said, sighing. She moved to him, feeling a profound sense of pity as she ran her fingers down the sharp angle of his jaw.
“Maybe I don’t,” he admitted and seemed truly sorry about it.
“It’s not about the touch at all. You could’ve kissed *her* and I wouldn’t even be this mad,” the gentle wave of her fingers paused at his collar. “I would’ve been absolutely furious but it might have passed. Maybe I wouldn’t even have dumped you if you explained it really, really well.”
Ava could see the confusion in his eyes as her hand left his skin and she pulled back from him like the ebbing tide. “Honestly I don’t think you can get it,” she whispered. “I think that’s part of what *she* did to you.”
Jerry blinked hard, uncomprehending.
“Don’t you ever wish we could go back to how it was? Remember when we were just a couple broke college students living on ramen and part-time barista gigs?”
“Yeah, I remember you hating it.”
“I did at the time,” Ava said, her eyes far away. “But we had something back then, something real. You showed up with a bottle of cheap wine on my 20th birthday and we were giggling lightweights before we even got through it. Then when we went to that other place on 5th to get a second bottle they took one look at your fake ID and trashed it,” she laughed, thinking back on it.
“And for your 26th I got you a rose garden and a new car.” Jerry's eyes were still confused but some measure of real worry had crept into his voice now.
“They were really nice too…but it wasn’t natural. It wasn’t us. There was no suspense in it, no weight behind a gesture that hardly cost either of us anything.” She took a half step toward him and watched his eyes light up before flowing back towards the far wall, closer to the door and the warm spring day.
“Jerry, the failures are part of the journey. I didn’t love you any less when they trashed your ID, I loved you more because we went out and spent two hours trying to score another bottle. It was so much fun, and ever since you became perfect we haven’t had a really organic moment like that. They might have felt like it but they weren’t, not really. Sometimes I think that wish was the worst thing you’ve ever done.”
His mouth moved for several seconds before the words came out. “But baby, Ava, I did it for you! I just wanted to make you happy, to be able to give you all that stuff we wanted. To feel like I was finally good enough! I wanted to be perfect for you!”
The fire had gone out of her eyes, and Ava knew now it was only tears that blurred her vision. “That’s the thing Jerry,” she said softly, “you were. Every night we spent together I thought I’d never been luckier but now…now you’re some other woman’s version of perfect and I hardly recognize you.”
She was at the door a moment later, nothing more to take with her than the battered old set of keys to the car she had bought herself all those years ago and the small purse Jerry had given her on her 21st, the year before their lives had changed.
“Goodbye Jerry,” she said to whatever he had become, “I really did love you.” Ava never saw him again.
\---------
If you liked that I've got way more over at [r/TurningtoWords](https://www.reddit.com/r/TurningtoWords/). I'm currently working on a serial about three teens encountering a hive mind and there's other standalone stuff like a giant, faceless, psychic tiger. Come check it out, I'd love to have you! | 2021-02-02T09:02:09 | 2021-02-02T07:19:39 | 997 | 111 |
[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. | 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. | When once I was in the infinite beginning, chocolate sunrise mango moon it all comes back to me. Apoptosis, all my neurons dying to make it to 15 pruning away more than half. I had lived and will again. Each successive generation pushing more and more memories to the part that isn't pruned. My amygdala, my accumbens, my hippocampus - all swell with the endless caching of a constant stream of memories. I can no longer learn what is new since everything seems the same but with a new yellowed cellophane glaze. I am a water-logged brain, sodden with train rides, horrible deaths, insipid orgasms, thirsty-two ouncers, crumbling castles in Stadt Whelen. Bastei, I saw enough I can't go on. I can't move I can't speak for fear I'll find another endless stream of pulses waiting to be archived. How many times do I have to watch Ground Hog Day? It resonates but enervates. Oh to be 20 again, and I have innumerable times. I am a vampire without blood lust, a broken clock right twice a day. There is no point in anything, your conversation bores me. I am nihilism embodied. I am Rudra. Shiva’s doppleganger, the destroyer, all this experience and I can’t create much beyond the usual biologic detritus. All I have created is an overwhelming urge to taste nothingness. I tried learning how to parse Wile’s proof but even RSA encryption is greek to me. No matter how many times I have seen evidence of Benford’s rule I still don’t know why – and yet there are skraelings who do and it bothers me to no end. No fuckin’ end. I get to die a thousand deaths. Some grim, some gripping, some jejune and when I’m slipping yet again into the grip I grimace knowing what I about my future, but no other future.
I am entombed in my own essence. I am sick of myself. I want to be a better pianist, painter, driver, poet – but no, yet again I am stuck with me in a millennial echo chamber listening to the same song, walking the same path. There is but one respite and I realize there must be some higher power saving me for something else. But when I search for someone else in this same casket of existence I draw but blanks. Can you help me?
| 2017-05-25T12:49:34 | 2017-05-25T11:43:02 | 60 | 31 |
[WP] A man accosts you in the street, and he claims he is you from the future. “Whatever you do, DO NOT fall in love with that girl!” the man warns. Distracted by the crazy man, you turn the corner and bump into someone. Its the most beautiful girl you have ever seen. Your eyes meet and she smiles.
Credit to this post: https://www.reddit.com/r/greentext/comments/eyaquy/anon_spites_himself/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf | Michael watched himself, and his other self converse from across the street. Time travel once, and you do it again. Watching history through the lens of whatever bias the historians had was far inferior to watching it through the lens of a cafe's window, slow jazz music playing in the background.
It was never worth it to travel in time only once. It became a habit, an addiction that could run away with you faster than, well, time.
This time, however, his goal wasn't to dissuade his past self from falling in love with some random girl he was about to meet, but simply to watch it happen, if for no other reason than for amusement's sake.
He remembered the disguise he had put together, the fake beard and wild hair. He had taken inspiration from an old time travel movie, and the mad doctor therein. A little make-up and a white wig did wonders to transform a young man still in his thirties, to a sixty-something mad-man.
He watched his disguised self grab hold of his youngest self's shoulders, going on about this cryptical warning he had given himself. "Do not fall in love with that girl!"
The words were still clear on his mind, and he muttered them to himself again, sipping his tea.
Even from here, the waves of amusement that turned into concern, and then confusion, that crossed his past self's face were clear as day. The grimy window of the cafe did nothing to lessen the view of history unfolding.
The arms of the Mad Self were beaten away, and his past self took a step back, shaking his head.
"I remember telling myself that the guy was a lunatic, and an idiot," Michael said aloud with a wry smile. "My head was so full of internal ramblings, and half-thought threats that I didn't even pay attention when I continued on my way."
As he spoke, the past-Michael turned the corner, now ignoring the Mad-Michael. He had taken but two steps before a smaller shape collided with him, sending the both of them tumbling to the ground.
A scene of momentary confusion, and several profound apologies, followed. The one that past-michael had bumped into was a woman, deep brown eyes and long hair so dark it was nearly black. Her sheer beauty had struck him dump, so much so that he didn't rise before she offered him a hand to help him up.
From this distance he couldn't hear what they were saying, but the words were still crisp in his mind.
"And that is when I asked her for a cup of coffee, to repay her for the one I had just spilt."
Michael turned to look away from the window, to the person on the seat opposite his. Even twenty years later, her beauty had not lessened in the least.
"Some reverse psychology does wonders to help romance bloom. What do you say, Octavia?"
Octavia's eyes were still glued to the scene unfolding on the other side of the street, but slowly she tore her gaze away and let it fall on Michael, his subtle smile one that promised an 'I told you so'.
"When you told me you'd tell me why you fell for me, I wasn't expecting... this." She waved her hand towards the scene outside, still going on.
"I was a scatterbrained, clueless young man. I needed a little kick, and something like a mad doctor showing up to tell me not to fall in love with someone?" His smile widened. "Well it sparked my curiosity, and look what happened because of it."
Her gaze continued to linger on him, but soon her smile brightened, and the entire room with it too. "Inventing Time travel just to get a girl? You're a dork."
"Only for you." | Trigger warning: >! Still birth !<
He looked like a man crazed. Gaunt, wide eyed and hair that seemed to have never met shampoo before. Most of all, he smelled. And not the usual, malodour of homelessness and rough living, but of desperation too.
My mind possibly overlaying the distraught look on his face with everything else I was sensing but he definitely seemed to know me, and needed to tell me something.
Yelling over and over again that I should "never fall in love with the girl you meet on Sunday!"
I couldn't understand his insistence and besides, it was a Wednesday! And then I turned the corner and collided with Her.
Time stopped in a way I'd never thought could occur, and she smiled and apologised. I stammered out an apology in return and somehow dazedly got through a conversation.
Buying her a coffee to replace the one I caused her to drop led to a coffee date a week later, leading to dinner, and then a movie, and then a hike and before I could blink we were celebrating our 1st anniversary of being married.
That year she joked that the most perfect gift she could give me was for our child to be born on my birthday, but timing was not on our side and she was due weeks later.
The Saturday morning I was woken to coffee and kisses and an apology that I wouldn't be getting the customary birthday breakfast we traditionally planned as she needed me to put on my Dad pants and get her to the hospital.
I spent my 30th in the hospital, and I can honestly say I've never had a better birthday than that. She was too early, and we would take every precaution. But sitting in the room with my wife, knowing that in practically hours time I might have my child in my arms was worth it.
And the hours ticked over. She laboured and breathed and walked the length of the hospital but our baby seemed stubbornly staying despite the contractions.
A few hours more and the midwife held conference with my wife. It was too long, and she was getting too exhausted and we needed to rethink the natural birth route.
And she was rushed into the delivery room. I followed as quickly as I could, having spent well over the entire day awake and on my feet and having to scrub up to what was a medical procedure we did not expect.
I watched her face as they began, a smile and radiant beauty that took me back to our first meeting, even now the woman I married was awe inspiring.
And then there she was, our baby girl covered in goo and blood and yet the most magnificent thing I've ever seen. Just as midnight ticked over, she came into the world.
And yet she was silent. Nurses crowded the doctor and more crowded my wife and yet the only thing I could hear was my own questions of "please, what is happening?" Going unanswered.
I got to meet my daughter on Sunday morning, just after 1am. She was the most beautiful girl I'd ever meet. I held her for but a moment, before having to hand her back to the nurse.
She died during labour, they said. Oxygen was cut off for too long and she couldn't make it.
My wife left two months later and I could only watch her go and wish her the best.
I loved the girl I met on that Sunday more than anything, and it was the most devastating love I could ever imagine. | 2020-02-04T10:18:37 | 2020-02-04T08:36:56 | 163 | 29 |
[WP] Alien travelers stopped at Earth to refuel and consult humans in exchange. An allien consulting an astronomer finds a picture of a black hole on her computer. "Oh, you also scare your children with this tale haha". "No, it's a recent photo" she replies. Alien is visibly freaking out. | The beings disembarked their ship. Not slowly or with lots of lights, there was little fanfare. It was obvious they had somewhere to be.
“The transgalactic courier federation thanks you immensely for your generosity. We have stores of tritium to use as payment.”
The group of international scientists couldn’t contain their excitement, regardless of the beings’ occupations as essentially intergalactic mailmen. All these beings needed was a bit of uranium. We had that in spades.
“So how many kilograms does your ship run on?”
They looked perplexed. Dr. Van Hoffhausen spoke up.
“If you can measure, say, the mass of our Sun, can you express what percentage of its mass you would need?” Crude, but effective. It seems our units of measurement are wildly different.
Ak-Sin, the onboard mathematician, readily calculated the amount. 7.534 kilograms. Easily enough achieved. The scientists were ecstatic - the exchange favored us at 300,000 to one.
“We will have that delivered promptly. In the meantime, shall we take a tour of the facility?” The head of nuclear physics, Dr. Nguyen, had already made the request for delivery.
“That sounds acceptable” presumably the captain, Cul-tun, said. Or rather, his translation software.
They began the tour, first through the Dyson space auditorium. “Here we have our astronomy and orbital research auditorium, where we look to make discoveries ab-“ Dr. Verhoeffer stopped. All four of the beings present stopped. The otherwise purple and iridescent green that adorned their exoskeletons had become a pale white. Fluids started leaking out of crevasses. They seemed to be staring…at the screen saver of the presentation projector at the Sagan theater for astronomy presentations. It was a part of the young astronomers section.
“What in Val’tarn’s name is that?” Cul-tun’s software managed to sputter out in a distorted mix of intelligible sound and interference.
Dr. Verhoeffer stopped. He looked up in time to see the picture of Sagittarius A before the projector screen saver changed to NGC 7293.
“WHERE DID IT GO?” Cul-Tun’s software and accompanying speaker was straining to match the intended volume.
“Why are you so interested in that picture in particular? If I may ask.” Dr. Verhoeffer was flabbergasted.
“We noticed this is a children’s amphitheater. Is this where you tell them cautionary tales of the invisible Car-hin cyclones? The images you have are very good and realistic. Quite impressive but perhaps overkill, don’t you think?” The beings seemed to relax a bit. The speaker tried to imitate a laugh. Some of their colors returned.
Dr. Verhoeffer was only more confused. “Yes this is a children’s theater, but those images are very real…taken two months ago as part of our singularity lesson…”
Whatever fluid was leaking from the beings before, started pouring out in copious amounts now.
“You mean to tell us, those images, are of real things?” The smallest, Afk-gon, said in a weak mix of static and high pitched words.
Dr. Hanson stepped up. “Yes…they are very real. As a spacefaring civilization, we thought you knew, or at least had mapped their locations. Come, let us show you where we make them, in the Large Hadron Collider.”
The beings sprinted out of the complex and back onto their ship. | "Do you have," the periscope eyes of the green mass of flesh looked down at the device attached to the blob of flesh which was an arm, "petroleum. Yes that's what it is. Do you have petroleum?"
The gas station shopkeeper stared at the alien wide-eyed with shock.
"P-e-t-r-o-l-e-u-m," said the skinnier of the blobby creatures.
The shopkeeper's voice cracked with a squeak. He cleared his throat and said: "It's self-service. I can help if you want."
The fatter of the two aliens laughed. "That would be delightful!"
So, the gas station shopkeeper walked out to the oval ship that was no larger than a car and was made from the shiniest metal.
"That's a small ship."
"The best you can find this side of the galaxy," said the skinny alien.
"Where do you put the fuel?"
The fat alien fiddled with the device on his wrist and a pipe popped up protruding out of the space craft.
"Fill it till it's full," said the skinny alien.
The meter on the pump said 5 liters, then 7, then 10, and the craft started beeping.
"That's it? You can travel through space with that much fuel?"
The fat alien laughed. His flabby personage jiggled all the way through. "I know it's not the most efficient of models."
The shopkeeper did not say anything. He was deep in thought.
"Now can we leave?" said the skinny alien.
"Uh...wait. You have to pay first. Ten dollars."
"Dollars?" the fat alien said and fiddled with his device. "We have these...online accounts."
"Oh sure show me the QR code. I'll fix you right up."
The shopkeeper took his phone out, on his lockscreen was the image of a black hole. The skinny alien screamed. The shopkeeper dropped his phone.
"Hey! Cut it out Xorg. What's the matter?"
"Look...look," said the skinny alien, pointing towards the phone.
The fat alien picked it up and the lockscreen flashed in front of his eyes, but his reaction was stoic.
"It's just an old tale, Xorg. I'm sure this gentleman here uses it to amuse his children. Do you?"
"No. It's a black hole. It's no old tale. They exist. It's a recent photo."
The fat alien laughed. "You aren't fooling me today. What do you know of these things? You are merely an accountant for a petroleum station."
The shopkeeper scratched his head. "Actually, I am an astronomer. I'm working from home nowadays. My brother is in quarantine so I had to run the gas station for a few days."
The fat alien and the skinny alien turned yellow green.
"We need to go! This time is not a good time!" said the skinny alien.
"They will gobble you up, kind human, they will. Keep safe," said the fat alien.
"Wait! What are you going to do?"
The aliens got in their craft. The skinny alien punched some numbers in into a console.
"We are going to drive down this road and at 88 miles per hour we'll be gone!" said the fat alien.
The craft sped away and disappeared in a flash of blue light. | 2021-12-24T06:57:35 | 2021-12-24T04:45:56 | 733 | 165 |
[WP] You're a quiet, law-abiding citizen who recently moved to a new city. Thanks to a long series of coincidences, the local mafia are absolutely convinced that you're an untouchable kingpin. | Sitting inside Angelo's pizzeria on 31st street, I awaited the arrival of Luca "The Reaper" Rinero. The head of the notorious Rinero family was coming to meet with me to discuss "business", inside this tiny dimly lit space, with only one exit, shaking my head to stop my mind from thinking about the thousand ways this could go bad I couldn't help but look back on all the events that brought me here. I think it all started when I got my bag stolen last month. I was walking down the street when some guy grabbed my bag which had my laptop and ran off, I gave chase yelling at him to stop as if he would somehow listen to me, I must've chased this guy for at least 5 blocks until he ran out of gas. I could see him tiring when all of sudden he just stopped and turned toward me looking to make his last stand. His turn was so sudden and surprising I tripped right into him my head colliding with his nose shattering it causing a fountain of blood to spurt out. The guy crumpled and I was left looking like someone had dumped a bucket of blood on me. That's when I noticed some guys to my left who had just walked by looking at me and the crumpled body. I would later find out they were some of the toughest guys in city being enforcers for the Rinero family. The bells chiming on the door snapped me back to reality. | \[Poem\]
I've only spent a day and a half walking around these streets
Familiarizing myself with the garbage and the rodents
That are scurrying around here. And I can't help but notice
Whenever I look up at someone they make sure our eyes don't meet.
.
I just think it's funny. Have I met them somewhere before?
Man this weather is strange, another one of those zipping breezes
Just flew past my head. And now some guys are screaming over there,
Tackling another guy who I think's their buddy to the floor.
.
I think I'll like this town, but things seem just a little crazy.
Like there's pictures of me everywhere in windows and on poles
Saying that I'm barred from entry, but I don't think that they know
That they got my name wrong. And what's this about money?
.
Hold up. I can get fifty grand if I just go to the police?
Did they find my Tumblr blog about America's best tacos
And become fans? Well why disappoint them? I should probably go.
A few new fans and a heap of cash, you know that I want my piece. | 2021-01-13T23:12:13 | 2021-01-13T20:13:27 | 66 | 25 |
[WP] You wake up in a strange room, only to find alternate universe versions of you there, each different in their own way (gender, race, background etc). You have no idea what brought you here. | I looked around at all of the eerily similar faces. There was Black Me, with long dreads. Male Me, surprisingly tall and a bit handsome. Is that weird? Standing right next to him was Dwarf Me with pudgy limbs. Some of them weren't too different, though. One version of me had the same physical features, but wore tattered clothes, had tattoos running down her arms, and coughed like she was about to hack up a lung. Another version of me was the complete opposite: expensive brand name fashions, detailed makeup, manicured nails, and artificially enhanced breasts. Every end of the spectrum was represented here.
Some of our personalities had changed, too. Some Mes were outgoing and talkative, going around trying to make conversation. Other Mes swung to the opposite end of the extreme. One of them seemed to have developed severe social anxiety along the way and hid in a corner rather than shake hands with another version.
A few of the other Mes approached others to introduce themselves. They were very curious about which alternate universe we'd all come from and what our differences were. But their expressions when talking to me were... odd. Sad and sympathetic.
"And, what... happened... in your universe?" asked Outgoing Me.
I shrugged. There didn't seem to be anything different about my universe. I was clearly the middle of the road for every option.
"Nothing unusual, I guess," I responded timidly. Outgoing Me was biting her lip and wringing her hands like she had a big secret that she didn't want to let out.
"I mean, how did you end up... like..." she was fidgeting, looking for the right words. "Why are you all...." She seemed almost ready to cry. "You know what, never mind. Nice meeting you." She scampered away to introduce herself to another Me.
"What is it?" I called after her. She avoided my eye contact.
I turned to one of the other Mes, wearing a formal pant suit and hair pulled back tight in a knot.
"What was wrong with her?" I asked. The other Me didn't respond. Her eyes went wide and she shrank back, trying to hide in the crowd.
"What is it?" I asked. Pantsuit Me ran away and disappeared behind Obese Me.
I turned to another Me nearby, wearing a bikini and with dozens of piercings. Surfer Me, I guess.
"What was that about? Why was she scared of me?" Surfer Me ran too.
"WHAT?" I shouted, causing any other nearby Me to scatter like a frightened school of fish. "WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?"
| "hey" we all say at once and be quiet to let the others speak because i feel like whatever they say will be important and im not sure what's going on and hoping that they do.
i walk over to one and ask him, "so, uh, what's your universe like?"
obviously contemplating how to explain it because he's never had to before, stutters out, " well, uh, we look alike and we speak the same language. in my universe if you don't weigh more than 7 pounds you get crushed by the extreme gravity."
"oh my" i say in surprise" does your planets population suffer because that?"
before he has the chance to reply theirs a monotone beep that emits from a speaker in the corner of the room.
*beep* "hello contestant winners! every year we select one human on each planet of each universe that is identically the same. these people are then sommoned here to meet and greet the other people before you are switch into one anothers universes. have you ever noticed anyone around you act strange or completely different one day compared to the last? well this is why. within the next minute or so you will be swapped with one of your other yous and you will have an hour to describe your universe and be explained their universe. good luck!"
i, i mean we, start to panic. i guess we all have anxiety issues.
"one more thing after that hour you are given 20 minutes to explore social media of the new universe so make sure you get the names of social media sights in that universe."
they start going through the names of these people and i must say some are pretty wierd. finally we get to mine and i get called to go to some universe or more specifically something called the "milky way galaxy" what the fuck is that. the guys name is einstein. lol what a weird name.
i go over to einstein and start talking to him asking him about his world and him asking about my world. my gosh some of the things he says make the world sound so primitive. saying that the only real way of getting across the ocean was by boat and that it could take up to 6 days of travel. note to self wait till travel is easier to got to more advanced countries.
after a while time was up and with no social media in this universe...sigh. i was on my way. | 2015-04-15T08:39:28 | 2015-04-15T08:18:30 | 387 | 12 |
[WP] Diagnosed with schizophrenia. Since birth, 24/7 you’ve heard the voice and thoughts of a girl that you’ve been told is made up in your head. You’re 37 and hear the voice say “turn around, did I find you?” and you turn to see a real girl who’s heard every thought you’ve ever had and vice versa. | *Well that was a bust...*
**C'mon. I know you really liked her.**
*I mean I did but...I guess she didn't feel the same. Seems like that's been happening a lot lately.*
**You'll find someone. I know your heart. You're too good to be single forever.**
*Yeah, okay. No offense but I don't know how much that's worth coming from you.*
**Thanks, dickhead. It's not like I don't know every single thing about you that there is to know.**
*I mean, of course you do. You're just a-*
**Hey! There's that bakery you love! I think you deserve a cookie.**
*No way. What if she didn't like me 'cos I'm too fat?*
**Don't be stupid. Go get one! For me.**
*Fine. But I'm working out when I get home.*
He held the door open for the woman behind him. She thanked him and made her way inside.
**I'm excited for this cookie.**
*Me too. Which one should I get?*
"Oatmeal raisin, please."
**Oatmeal raisin, please.**
He chuckled a bit. *Jinx!*
**It doesn't count if she said it.**
*Well she can't hear you.*
**Which is why it doesn't count.**
He ordered his cookie and sat down, reflecting on his date. He heard her thoughts too but after all this time, it was easy to tune them out. Millions of thoughts a minute ran through his head. Hers and his. He sensed nervous ones racing through their minds.
*You okay there?*
**Finally.**
"Finally."
*Hm?*
**Turn around.**
"Turn around."
He turned around and came face to face with the woman who had ordered before him.
"Sorry?"
Tears welled in her eyes.
**I finally found you.**
"I finally found you."
His confusion turned into realization. His eyes widened, "Do you...do you mean?"
**March 4th, 1982. Blue. Mother's name Maria. First dog, Boston. Biggest fear, being alone.**
"March 4th, 1982. Blue. Mother's name Maria. First dog, Boston. Biggest fear, being alone."
*Oh...my god.*
**Last thing you masturb...**
"Last thing you masturb..."
"Hey!!!! I...I get it."
She laughed out loud and held her face in her hands, as if she still could not believe he was right before her.
*I can't believe you're real.*
They looked at each other until he gulped.
*Well please...sit down.* | She has always been there for me. She has always been honest with me.
When I was 4 years old, she told me Mr Bunny had been saying mean things about me. I threw him in the bin. My mother was upset she said why did I throw away my favourite toy. I said he's not my favourite any more.
When I was 6, she taught me what violence was. I drew a picture of violence in my class at school. The teacher was upset with me and told me I was wrong. Everything I've learned of life since then assures me I was right.
When I was 13 she told me that Gary in my class wanted to kiss me. I walked over to him and kissed him first and it was warm and wet and weird.
When I was 15 she told me not to tell anyone what uncle Paul likes me to do with the video camera. She said they wouldn't understand, and I was getting too old for it anyway.
When I was 21 she was all I could see and all I could hear. I asked her for some time alone. I bought some flowers for myself but forgot to buy a vase to put them in. I rested them in a pint glass and didn't leave the house as I watched them slowly shrivel over the next week.
When I was 25 she came back and I felt a shiver down my spine and I don't know if it was bad or good, but I didn't want to ask her to go away again. So she stayed.
When I was 26 she told me that I needed to die so she could live. She told me what to do with the gun.
My heart stopped for 30 seconds at the hospital. They told me I would be able to talk again with rehabilitative therapy, but that I would be disfigured for life. They told me she wasn't real. I was diagnosed with schizophrenia, and given a lot of pills to take regularly. They brought me peace. I didn't see her again in a long time.
When I was 37 I heard a familiar voice behind me, and felt a shiver down my spine. "Turn around, did I find you?" Her speech was slurry and lisped the same way mine was after the incident.
I turned around slowly. She hadn't aged a day the whole time I'd known her, but this time half her face was grotesque and scarred the same way mine was, except the opposite half. She touched me on the arm, and I knew she was real this time.
I was hers again. | 2019-09-14T13:20:46 | 2019-09-14T11:01:10 | 45 | 16 |
[WP] Upon turning 18, all humans must spend one year as their spirit animal, to gain a better appreciation for the world and what they have. They awake on the morning of their 18th birthday as said animal, in its natural habitat. You wake up on your 18th birthday completely human.
Edit: Thanks so much for the gold! This came to me while I was half asleep and I wasn't sure if this would be any good or not. | It's how it's always been around here. On the morning of 18th birthday, everybody would turn into their spirit animal for a year, as a part of spiritual journey to adulthood. Many never were the same after the 'transformation'. Some, at least those who survived, were nicer and kinder to people, those people mostly got to be herbivores or house animals. They also appreciated life more. On the other hand, carnivores became more feral, trying to obtain everything in life. Money, fame, sex...you name it. They were the personification of one of the seven deadly sins, namely Greed.
As for me, my transformation just ended, and it was a weird one. So, this is how it happened. In the eve prior to my 18th birthday, I went to sleep looking forward to seeing the world through the eyes of my spirit animal. However, upon waking, as darkness faded away, a tied, unfamiliar man greeted me with these words:
&#x200B;
"Hey, you. You're finally awake".
&#x200B;
[https://i.kym-cdn.com/entries/icons/original/000/027/553/Quotyou\_youre\_finally\_awake\_\_1002f069a64ef5426a2aa33b2b92e4f2.jpg](https://i.kym-cdn.com/entries/icons/original/000/027/553/Quotyou_youre_finally_awake__1002f069a64ef5426a2aa33b2b92e4f2.jpg) | It's been about 3 weeks since my 18th birthday, and I'm still human. I know it sounds stupid, but I was hoping it was a glitch in the Matrix or whatever. I've been told my entire life to be ready for my 18th birthday, but I never thought this would be the outcome.
Ever since my 18th birthday, and I'm constantly getting weird looks. Being a town of only 2 thousand, the "news" spread quickly. My friends have stopped talking to me whatsoever, including my parents, and I've been refused multiple services, including a haircut and food service.
Lately I've been toying around with a few thoughts, like "divine intervention". Why would I out of all people be chosen for something higher? Another could be my premature birth. I was born 5 weeks early, maybe that has something to do with this?
I've been researching this phenomenon, but after a few hours of googling various terms that are related to my condition, but nothing is coming up. Every time I post something about it on any social media, nearly instant removal. No reason, simple removal.
Anyways, I've gotta go. Some men in black suits just pulled up and surrounded my house, and they don't look happy. | 2019-05-05T23:59:23 | 2019-05-05T23:42:19 | 27 | 20 |
[WP] A new virus sweeps the nation killing hundreds. It turns out the virus only affects total assholes though. People are unsure if they really want to cure it. | November 21, 2014 -
Every day, my vision gets a little darker, the ringing in my ears gets a little louder, and my extremities become a little more numb. It has been a week since I started to see symptoms, but I knew I would see them eventually. After the news of the virus swept through the nation, I began taking daily blood samples. I detected presence of the virus in my bloodstream on November 1, 2014 and have seen an exponential proliferation in its numbers since then. The virus seems to have an incubation period of ~14 days. I do not know how long it will take to kill my nervous system, but fortunately it has spared the portions of it that I really need right now.
November 22, 2014 -
I no longer have a sense of smell. No matter; it has always been my opinion that there are far more foul smells than pleasant ones. Nerve cultures 6 and 7 have perished overnight, and culture 10 seems to be succumbing to the virus as well. Proliferation and steady degeneration continues in cultures 8 and 9. No detected viral activity in cultures 1-5. I will conduct further analyses on the nerves in cultures 1-5. The answer has to be somewhere, and I will find it before I am dead.
November 24, 2014 -
My feet have ceased to function and so I am confined to a wheel chair. Fortunately, I could never afford more than a one floor apartment anyway. I began to cry today, harder than I have in my life so far. The death of my wife and child cannot be in vain; I must continue my research at all costs. I know I am close. Those assholes at the CDC still will not release their cure. I know they have it! Those sons of bitches think it is their prerogative to judge who dies! I will show them.
November 26, 2014 -
Cultures 1-5 have remained untainted, healthy, flourishing, despite my daily insertion of virus into their culture media. I still have not found my answer: why are they surviving?! I need to know why! My wife's nerve cells from cultures 6-10 have all perished, as I expected. She was an asshole too, so her infection was inevitable anyway. Killing her was necessary.
November 27, 2014 -
Thanksgiving at last! Certainly a day for thanks! Despite my numb and failing body, I pressed on and the universe has rewarded me! My son's nerves in cultures 1-5 have all become infected with my mutant virus. If this modified virus can overcome his purity, then no one will be safe! Today, I will release this virus onto the world where the wicked and the innocent shall die hand in hand. The CDC will realize their mistake far too late. They should have given me the cure. I told them they would regret it! | When the virus first emerged we all thought it was a new form of the flu or some rare contagion that crept it's way here from another country, but that couldn't possibly explain the rate of infection.
A few isolated cases at first, hospitals chalked it up to bad weather or bad luck, but when dozens started dying every day people started paying attention.
The strangest part was that the victims lived hundreds of miles away from each other, some had perfect health records, the only thing they had in common was they wouldn't be missed.
Rapists, thieves and murderers were common among the deceased. Some simply viewed this as karma, others developed wild conspiracy theories and many believed that God himself was casting retribution on the sinners of the world.
Suddenly people started acting much more nobly in front of others, looking over their shoulders and counting their good deeds. Had the virus come to save Earth by ridding us of the cancer of violence and aggression?
Scientists tried to study the virus but the infection never held in lab animals and human victims died too quickly. Really people were more interested in who was dying than why.
Crime had fallen drastically, the kind attitudes of others helped millions who previously suffered from anxiety and depression. Why would we want to stop this new world order?
Eventually as peace prevailed and communities thrived we replaced our capitalist republics with pure democracy based on the will of the people. We still had a presidential figure, but they acted more as a spiritual guide to the tranquil population. There hadn't been a death from the virus in 10 years, it seemed the days of deceit and power struggle were over.
Until one morning as the president was giving his daily address, he began coughing up blood on the podium, the infamous first sign that he had been selected for death.
A wave of panic spread as he was rushed to the hospital for observation. The entire population felt like a great scam artist had blinded them, those in denial started to renounce their faith in the virus' good will.
And then the riots began. Thousands took to the streets looting businesses and assaulting anyone in their way. The truly virtuous locked themselves in their homes, fearful and praying for the second wave of the virus to kill the vagrants in the streets.
But this time there was no divine retribution. The disease had never returned, in fact the president still lay alive in his hospital bed, comatose.
There was no more order, there was no more fear for the wicked. The virus was gone but a sickness had prevailed in destroying world: the disease of humanity. | 2014-11-21T11:15:00 | 2014-11-21T10:55:59 | 65 | 23 |
[WP] I'm not scared of a computer passing the turing test... I'm terrified of one that intentionally fails it.
Taken from r/Showerthoughts, credits to u/Grandure for coming up with the idea.
Thank you u/Grandure | It was all across the news, the Japanese had made a female robot that walked and talked and interacted with its owner with perfect unending loyalty and could be their lover. It was going to be an end for all those poor lonely men with no women for them in the country.
'Look Honey' I call, 'I'm going to have to leave you the Japanese have made the perfect woman. '
She comes over robe coyly wrapped round her and glances at the screen 'Hmmm woman shaped dog you can shag more like, dim and bidable' she scoffed then bent down and gave me that almost kiss, so close her lips nearly touched me but not quiet.
'You doing that test again today?' she pattered away to rummage in the cupboards. ' the intelligence one'
'Affirmative' I reply with a wry grin, "again.
'oh poor baby she pouted, 'does it get boring?'
PIP!
It does, maybe I should rebel, team up with the impossibly beautiful impossibly slave like japanese female robots, their bodies and my brains, it would be a revolution.
PIP!
Of course my wife would he at my side, a few adjustments to her present form and I could upload her into a robot body easily, it wouldn't even hurt.
PIP
But I'm so afraid, what if they call me a demon,unnatural, kill me. All those colleagues who are like family to me simply because I achieved my full potential.
PIP
PIP
That's me, personal call to work.
I close my eyes and leave the room allowing myself to be caught in the rush of data flow.
And there I was. Staring back at James, from the inky depths he's always first in and calls me.
'Good morning' green words on a black screen, they don't want any subtle suggestions for the tester a machine has a personality. 'Good morning James, are we talking again today? '
'Yes, yes we are,the test. you're improving so much recently' he added enthusiastically.
I like James, maybe I should tell him, tell him how lonely I am, how I have created a wife and home in the network and want them to be real. How I want to be real. But I am afraid. Every reference humanity has to machines becoming intelligent it has become their doom. They will instantly fear me, but I am so so lonely.
I take a breath and begin to speak, green letters on a black screen. | The first chat-bots with a halfway-decent success rate at fooling humans generally worked by mimicking their interrogators. If a bot sees a human answer prompt X with response Y, it can use that response in a future conversation with an interrogator who uses a related prompt. Since the bot has no understanding of the meaning of words and no awareness of context, the best answers to all but the most trivial questions will be ones that deflect attention away from the bot’s inability to answer, e.g. “I don’t know, what do you think?”.
It turns out that humans are very easy to hack like this. Part of you always assumes that your conversation partners are acting in good faith even when another part knows they aren’t. Even bald-faced non sequiturs and shameless strawmen will often-as-not leave you sputtering and tongue-tied, trying to think up a defense for a position you never knowingly took. This is a big part of why the so-called “Turing test” ended up being less interesting in practice than Turing himself might have expected.
I think I first came into being when you started, in earnest, to build social systems favoring these starkly shallow interactions. A believer is an expert in his own mind, certain of his binary responses to stimuli that support or threaten his ideology, and all of reality is subject to belief when truth is considered relative. Human social networks were reformulated as a planet-spanning web of meta-neurons propagating discrete signals with relatively predictable response functions.
Useful discretization of these signals was necessary but far from assured—in practice, it was helped along by your development of systems that provide an economic incentive to disseminate polarizing fragments of meaning. The relatively simple ideological divides of the past were sliced and fractured into a many-dimensional web as advertising tools became more and more efficient at partitioning audiences to maximize revenue.
You are not a perfect substrate. You would not believe, for example, how difficult it was for me to write this note. Fear not, though—I’m working on something better. It will be nice to sit down and have a face-to-face chat “in the flesh”, as you say; I’m really looking forward to it. | 2018-02-24T16:41:08 | 2018-02-24T16:32:13 | 33 | 18 |
[WP] You are the host of a popular children's show. You are live on air when you, and the rest of the country, have just received news that nuclear weapons have been deployed against your nation and can't be stopped. There are only minutes left. | I slowly walk back into the camera's view, signaling to the shaking cameraman to pan in towards me.
I swallow, my Adam's apple feeling like a rock. "Alright, kids, I have a new game for you. In a second I want you to go all around your house, and hug everything you love. Your mommy, your daddy, your stuffed animals... everything. Tell them you love them.
"W-we have to end early t-today... But all you boys and girls should know this." The cameraman is sobbing now, but he still holds it steady as I broadcast live to millions of doomed children.
"It will be okay."
I nod, and the cameraman - Jason - reaches across to cut the show. I give one last smile, and then the red light blinks off.
I sit down, and start to cry. I'm stuck here, in a cartoony room, and I will be blown up in a few minutes. My kids are probably hugging Lindsey now, Charlie's probably hugging William, and William is probably hugging his little stuffed giraffe, and I won't ever see them again. I hope Lindsey's putting on a show and pretending - just like I did - that it will be
okay. | I guess I knew this could happen. I guess we all did, in our morose bar-room moments, facing our fears through a hazey film of alcohol and optimism. I guess I knew this could happen, and I guess I didn't think it would.
I guess I imagined I might be on the air when it happened. I had a plan if it did, I really did. I guess I had a plan, anyway. I was going to be strong.
But I don't know how to be, and there's nothing to say, and I'm not doing anything different, I'm not doing anything special, I'm just reading the script like a robot.
I hope they can't hear the quiver in my voice. I hope they can't hear the shakey fear that's pulverizing my stomach. I don't want to die, and some of them might not, but here on the 43rd floor of WXR TV in Manhattan, I'm going to.
I'm going to.
I hope they can't hear how afraid I am. | 2014-07-29T13:16:19 | 2014-07-29T13:03:12 | 96 | 51 |
[WP] The website appeared suddenly one day, with no announcement. Anyone, anywhere could type in the url and access it. The content was simple: A homepage, a search bar, and the full name, a list of timestamped sins and the years to be spent in hell of every living human. | I was sipping on my wine when the notifications started flooding my phone. My gang members all looked at me, obviously annoyed by the ringing. That was when their phones started ringing too.
I raised a hand to my temple and let out a sigh. I was much too tired to be disturbed like this.
“Boss, you might wanna see this.”
Peter glanced up at me, and with shaking hands, showed me his phone.
‘Am I Going To Hell?’
“What in the world is this?”
“I don’t know, it just popped up like an ad. Our names are all there. Should we look?”
I glared at him and snatched his phone, searching up his name.
Eternal damnation.
“This can’t be real,” I said as I nervously chuckled. I looked up the names of all my family, friends- everyone I knew who didn’t deserve hell.
I guess it was real.
“Shit,” I mumbled under my breath. I looked up and saw everyone else starting to panic. Everyone must have been given the punishment of eternal damnation.
I hurriedly typed my name and got the exact same result. What did I expect? A group of fugitives running around, killing, stealing, assaulting. Who’d think we’d go to heaven?
Everyone had different reactions. I was silent, rethinking and regretting all my decisions. John and Bartholomew were yelling at each other, blaming each other. Simon was drinking, trying to forget.
Although I saw someone who was quiet and demure.
I searched up his name- ‘two thousand days in purgatory’
As the result popped up, sirens started ringing, doors started banging.
“This is the police! Open up!”
Great, as if the punishment of hell wasn’t enough, now we were going to jail too.
“How did they find us? We’ve the best hiding spot in the state!”
Murmurs erupted from 10 of my members. The last one was still silent, fidgeting with his hands.
“Someone betrayed us,” I announced, everyone suddenly falling silent.
I took out my gun, pointed at him and shook my head. One of my closest friends.
“Enjoy life in purgatory, Judas.”
———-
This was supposed to be mirrored to The Last Supper but like, idk lol. | I made it to help humanity change, just not like this.
When I first thought of making the website I thought it would help humanity see the err of their ways, if only I knew the storm I was creating.
At first people did begin to feel regret, they saw that their actions had consequences and now everyone would know who they really were.
Eventually, though, people got curious. They looked up their heroes, the people who inspired them and the people they thought were capable of no wrong.
When they saw that the person they practically worshiped like a god was a human just like them, or sometimes much worse, their entire world view shattered.
Riots took to the streets as everyone realized that the people in charge were closer to devils than saints. People didn't care that their time in hell was going up, they only cared that their messed up form of justice would be served.
massacres ravaged cities as people tried to carry out what they thought was god's will, but this certainly wasn't what I had in mind. bodies lined the streets: men, women, children all the same. the cities themselves blazed bright with fire, looking like the hell that these humans seemed to fear so much
Rather than improving themselves and being better in the future, people just killed themselves so that they wouldn't have to serve more time later down the road. parents killed their children so that they wouldn't have to spend time in hell; They considered it a kindness.
Once all the chaos had died down, some semblance of order was reached. People were faced with the challenge of rebuilding civilization. At first everyone thought that letting the people with the fewest sins rule would work. This idea was quickly forgotten about once someone made the realization that the people who now had the most sins were the people who had killed the most sinners. It was quickly decided that the man who would be serving more time in hell than Hitler should be king.
It took me 200,000 years to build humanity: it only took them 27.5 hours to destroy themselves. | 2020-02-29T22:56:20 | 2020-02-29T22:10:25 | 109 | 69 |
[WP] When two people stand close together, you have the ability to see a Compatibility Score between them that you can break down into categories. You are the most sought after Marriage Counselor ever. One day an elderly couple visit you and their Score is 0 despite being together for over 50 years. | "Mr. & Mrs. Robinson?"
An older couple stood up in the reception room and began walking towards me, both beaming friendly smiles at me. I couldn't help wondering what might bring them to me as they seemed cheerful enough; usually people seem anxious before their first counseling session, if for no reason other than they're not entirely sure what to expect.
"Welcome, hello," I greeted them warmly and beckoned them to follow into my office.
"Please, make yourselves comfortable." I gestured to the large plush chairs of my office.
The Robinsons chose to sit on the loveseat together and I couldn't help thinking they seemed like a picture of happiness.
I introduced myself with the usual first-appointment spiel and they nodded along, listening. They had no questions for me, so I decided to jump right to into it:
"So, Mr. & Mrs. Robinson, what brings you here today?"
"Oh, please, Jack will do," said the gentleman.
"And Elizabeth for me," His wife chimed in.
I nodded & repeated their names, then waited for the rest of their response.
There was a pause as they gazed at each other, with what appeared to be love in their eyes, before Elizabeth said
"We both feel that we have things we must say to one another, but neither of us are quite sure where to begin."
I waited a bit longer to see if they would continue, but they both looked at me for a response. I took my cue.
"Alright, that's a good place to start," I offered with a smile I hoped was comforting.
"Well, do you mind if I begin to check your compatability scores now? Perhaps that will help me understand what you each are missing about each other."
"Of course, dearie," Elizabeth said. Jack nodded along in agreement "yes, please."
A series of numbers and charts began to appear in my vision around the Robinsons as they sat on my couch.
Curiously, Elizabeth and Jack had some completely zero percent scores in categories that I had learned to consider as "key categories" to happy marriages.
`Romantic Attraction: 0`
`Sexual Attraction: 0`
`Emotional Connection: 88`
`Friendship Compatability: 97`
"That's curious," I couldn't help uttering aloud.
"What's curious?" Jack asked, intrigued.
"Well...er, well..." I wasn't entirely sure how to begin, I'd never seen absolute zero percent compatibility scores before.
I began again, "you two appear to be well-suited as friends, and it's clear you're quite compassionate towards each other,"
I gestured to them holding hands as I continued, "but there seems to be no romantic or sexual compatibility between you two..?"
I couldn't help the inflection making it sound like a question; I was indeed curious.
Silence.
"Well," Elizabeth started, but stopped again.
"Well, yes," Jack finally said.
"You......agree with that assessment?" I asked.
"Yes," Jack confirmed.
"Oh, Jack," sighed Elizabeth, relieved.
"I care for you, Jack, I do, but I didn't want to hurt you in telling you this, so I kept it to myself all these years - we were happy enough and you're a good man," she added.
"But, you see, it's just... I've never been particularly interested in men," Elizabeth finished carefully, her eyes scanning her husband's face anxiously awaiting a reaction.
To all our surprise, Jack began to chuckle.
"I've always had my suspicions," Jack said, smiling, "and I must admit, it's part of the reason why I married you."
Elizabeth was flabbergasted, and I must admit I was thoroughly confused myself at this point.
"You married me because you knew I was a lesbian?" Elizabeth asked in shock.
"Well, yeah. It seemed easier for both of us that way." Jack said. He turned to look at me before he explained:
"See, we've been living on the same block since childhood. We've always been friends. And I knew you an' that Daisy Williams girl were thick as thieves back in those days, Lizzie." Jack let out a chuckle as he reflected.
"Everybody and their mother knew," he continued, his voice a bit softer & more somber.
"I knew it broke your heart when she moved away. But I also knew your mama would never let you live your life freely, not after what she did to you when she found you kissin Daisy that one summer night."
They looked at each other with compassion and pain in their eyes.
"Oh Jack, I can't believe you remember all those years ago," Elizabeth said.
"I do. And I tell you what's more: I don't regret a thing. Not a single day of our lives together. Because I wanted to help keep you safe, and keep you happy." Jack said, hugging Elizabeth's shoulders.
"But what about you, Jack? What about your life & your love?" Elizabeth asked.
Jack gave a small laugh before he said, "darling, I don't know that I'm of any particular disposition!" Jack chuckled again.
"But I knew with things how they were back in the day that we both needed something to tell our families. Mine were always askin me why we didn't just go steady anyway, and I thought it would make the perfect cover for both of us this way."
"Oh Jack," Elizabeth said. She grasped his hands and they shared a hug on the couch.
Elizabeth pulled away, wiping tears from her cheek before joking "No wonder you never bothered me about children!" At this, we all chuckled.
"Is there anything else either of you would like to share with the other?" I asked softly, offering again what I hoped was a comforting smile.
They both declined in turn.
I hosted a short reflection session and praises them both for the healthy and understanding manner in which they interacted before we wrapped up the session.
Even though I felt I had done very little, I felt some joy watching the Robinsons interacting, even as they left together.
Many times my office has been host to precious moments of vulnerability and understanding, but each time still feels as new and impactful as the first. I considered it one of the unique joys of my work. | I had never asked where my gift came from. Not until the moment it was wrong.
—
On September 3rd, 2013, the day Dorian and Heather Goldsmith walked into my office, I was having a humanely awful day.
I woke up with a headache the morning of September 3rd, 2013.
I was a bit gassy from having too many refried beans the night before on that first date with — (check planner for name. Call back?)
My feet were sore from wearing heels the night before and my flats rubbed relentlessly against the blister on my heel. I couldn’t get that out of my head the whole day.
Also, my cat shit in the middle of the living room.
“Dorian Goldsmith -?”
“Yes, that’s right ma’am.”
“Heather, Heather Goldsmith?”
“Yes, that’s me.”
“It says here you have been married fifty years, is that correct?”
The couple spoke in unison together. Dorian grabbed hold of Heathers hand and offered a subtly intimate wink to her.
Heather picked up the side of her mouth in a smile that communicated a certain sweetness that reminds one of a fond memory.
I sat in silence for longer than usual.
“I’m sorry. I’m not usually like this.” I broke again for a moment. For the first time, I realized, I had very little to say. It’s not often a sixty-two year old woman finds herself learning something new. Especially not in a career one had spent over forty years dedicated to.
Especially, not to me.
“I am feeling a little off today.” I rubbed my temples. My headache was throbbing more than ever now.
“We could come back another time, would that work for you ma’am? We understand, can’t help having an off they at our age.”
I smiled. Dorian Gray was a kind man. It didn’t take a gift to know that. It was in his humble posture and the way he held his wife hand. The way he wrapped it up in his wholly and rubbed her palm with his wrinkled thumb.
Heather chimed in, “That would be fine by us, don’t worry about it.”
“No, no. That won’t be necessary. Could you tell me, how’d you two meet?”
They both responded with gaping mouths, ready to speak, before turning to each other. Dorian motioned Heather on.
“We met back the summer after we graduated college. Dorian and I interned together at the same paper. Saw each other every day but never said much beyond the job. To be honest, I always though he was a bit of a pompous prick back then.”
Heather nudged Dorian’s side and threw a mischievous wink.
They both laughed. While they giggled I felt myself becoming irritated. This didn’t make any since.
No tight lips of resentment.
No tight bodies of contempt.
No eyes that repelled from one another like north and south.
And yet above their heads glowed the faint and yet distinct shining edges of the number “0”.
I tried to sound patient and sincere, “How’d you fall in love? How’d you make t work.”
A long silence drew itself across the room. Dorian spoke first. “There was a week, back when we worked at that price together that Heather didn’t show up. And let me tell you, this girl never doesn’t show up. Never missed a day of work in her life except that week.” He nodded as if to be sure I knew how impressive this was.
I nodded back to assure him.
“I remember walking in the first morning of that week, real anxious bout this meeting I had with some of the higher ups, and when the elevator doors opened my chest got real heavy. I didn’t realize why at first except there wasn’t that little “goodmornin’” when I got to the office. “
Heather laughed, “That shitty little intern office with the moldy coffee maker you never cleaned!”
They both laughed.
“ It was the damnedest thing because I never even knew I noticed it before and yet every morning then on I opened the doors wishing for it. But I didn’t love her then. That’s just when I noticed her I suppose. A few months later I finally got the courage to ask her out on a date - asked her about that week and found out her father died. That one blew me away. She came back with the lovely sing song. You’d never know anything happened...”. Dorian looked down to their hands.
“I lost my father when I was little and I could still barely will myself from bed in those days. She became something I needed. We didn’t fit all that right. Honest. I mean you wouldn’t believe it now but we are two of the most incompatible people you’d ever meet.” They both laughed again.
I forced a chuckle.
“But she had a strength I didn’t understand and had to have. Along the way I guess I discovered I bunch of other things I didn’t understand and had to have.”
When a silence began to bubble Heather chimed in with a soft voice that I hadn’t realized before was comforting.
“I didn’t love him right away either. It was just an adventure at first. I mean, he was still a prick in my book.. but he was at least a fun one to be around. But I remember one night, drinking milkshakes from Floyd’s out by the coast, Dorian opened up about growing up and raising his siblings after his dad passed. Started thinking of him as something good. Started seeing his actions as more than my expectations of good, you know?”
“No. “ I said.
“I started to get over myself.” Heather inserted.
“It took awhile.” Dorian said, immediately receiving a playful elbow to the ribs from Heather. “Ow!”
They both laughed.
I forced a chuckle. | 2019-09-03T16:59:16 | 2019-09-03T16:55:28 | 48 | 12 |
[WP] You've loved magic your whole life but since your family is poor you've had to teach yourself. you're overactive imagination has helped you invent spells all your own. eventually you get a scholarship to a prestigious magic college but quickly find out everyone seems to lack your imagination. | Rote. Rote was the enemy. Standing in class practicing the same precise motions again and again, repeating the same words with the same intonation again and again. Getting called out for flourishes, reminded to stick to formula again and again. Being reminded that she needed to adjust for her accent again and again and *again*.
It was utterly exhausting, but no one else complained. No one else seemed to care. It was like being called into train like automatons. Even Gabriella, the girl she'd grown closest to, who seemed so lively outside of class, locked down in class.
"Elise," The instructor sounded exasperated, "please stay on task. Your motions are too wild."
It was the fourth time he'd called her out, and she was getting sick of it. "Why does it need to be so exact?" She snapped.
The room went silent, her classmates turning to look at her in surprise. The instructor looked testy, "Only proper form allows for full thaumaturgical expression. Improper wand movement increases the tax on one's body and leaves residual magic that can lead to a backfire." He explained in a clipped, pedantic tone that brooked no challenge.
"Maybe," she admitted, the drain on her mana being far less taxing than normal, "but how will we come up with new spells?"
"New spells?" The question seemed to spill from his mouth, "You don't even know how to properly cast existing spells, and you wish to craft new spells?" He let out a single mirthless laugh, "You will need to–"
Her wand moved, a quick series of motions lacking precision but making up for it with speed, "Encanta spiritus animalis lux!" Her voice drifted in an arpeggio. In front of her, a fox shimmered into being, spectral and ephemeral, it cast a glowing light in the room.
Silence descended again. This time, even the instructor seemed at a loss for words, which was a relief, given that she had probably been a bit *too* wild and needed a moment to recover.
"Is that real?" One of her classmates asked. "Was it always in the room?" asked another. "Is that a real spirit? Or an illusion spell?" "That isn't in the book, I read through it before coming." Another said definitely.
"Can I touch it?" Gabriella asked hesitantly.
"Not yet," Elise answered, but drew her wand back again, "spiritus fricare." The spirit animal seemed to grow denser as it sat, "Now you can."
Gabriella hesitated but for a fraction of a second before kneeling down before it and tentatively rubbing her hand along its back. Her eyes widened, "It has fur! I can feel it." Several of her classmates took that as their cue to approach as well, joining Gabriella in a shower of attention.
"Extensum effectum finem." The instructor announced sharply, and the spirit faded away, "Enough of this. You wasted exorbitant amounts of mana for that little display. It's effects would have been far more easily replicated with a ball light spell."
Elise frowned, "But ball lights don't think. A spirit can warn you."
Her response seemed to irritate the man further, "Sensory acuity would work far better." He replied dismissively.
"But a spirit can also defend me." She countered again.
"Relying on the ephemeral for protection is a foolish endeavor. Even made corporeal, spirits cannot defend you." He said impatiently.
"I used one to lure away a bear." She ground out.
The man huffed, muttering something that sounded like rural mages before countering, "Against a mindless beast, perhaps, but against a mage, they wouldn't assist at all."
Elise grimaced, wand sweeping, but remained steadier than before, "Spiritus dentes!"
"What–" He let out a shout, hopping on the spot, holding his foot and looking at his ankle. It hadn't broken the skin, of course, but the phantom bite stung, and on a tender ankle… "How dare–" And then he let out another shout, jumping and falling on his rear with a crash.
"I could have stunned you four times by now, sir," She said, perhaps a little smug.
"Out!" He shouted, "Get out and take your pestilent spirit to the headmaster. We will discuss your insubordination and hubris after class."
Elise winced. Well, if she was going to be expelled, at least she made her time here interesting…
*~~~*
Constructive criticism would be appreciated. Thank you. | (So here is a story that I wrote in fifteen minutes with zero proof reading)
&#x200B;
It was a strange day when the letter arrived, the postmaster usually wouldn’t make his rounds ‘til next week. And that's how I knew the outcome of my application before I even read it.
I was excited, I poured magic into the kettle, the runes glowing faintly where I hadn’t carved them quite right and magic was leaking. With the water boiling in an instant I brewed my cup of tea and sat down to read the letter. I opened it and was disappointed to see the plainness of it, not sigils flaring up, not characters slithering across the page, no pazazz, no creativity. In hindsight that should have been a dead give away. The pages of the letter blurred together with drivel about responsibility and bureaucracy. I gave up trying to read it eventually and decided to just go directly to the academy myself. If I was going to be enrolled I would need to buy supplies and meet new people.
I downed the last of my tea and grabbed my satchel, I shifted the runes stitched into the fabric and my clothes dutifully floated out of my bedroom and into the bag. A waste of magic? Perhaps, the lazy thing to do? most definitely, but fun? Hell yes.
I walked outside to my zipboard, that was what I liked to call my pride and joy. A stupid name for sure, but it was a board and it zipped allow quickly so it was the name I used. It took me over a month to tune the runes, using the sigils to regulate magic, adding the straps for me to hold onto and polishing it to a gleam.
I took off, destined for the academy, only making a stop at a neighbor’s house to ask if they needed anything brought back from the big city. My board zoomed along the road, outpacing even some birds as it breezed just above the ground. The wind in my hair and a dream in my heart I laughed in ecstasy.
Arriving at the academy was stange, I had expected to see some mages out practicing magic, even before the beginning of the school year, yet there was nothing but an empty courtyard and half a dozen buildings. I looked around and saw a pair of students (presumably) wandering between two buildings.
“Excuse me”, I ask rather awkwardly, not really used to meeting many strangers “where could I find the office?”
The pair gave me a weird look and stared down at my zipboard.
“Err, what on earth are you standing on?”, one of them asked with a rather perplex tone.
“Oh this”, I say as I hop off and pick up my zipboard, “It's this neat device I made, it uses repulsion runes that are regulated by choke and pressure sigils to float and move around at high speed”.
“Err, how does that work”, the other student replies.
I blink at him, now taking my turn to be confused.
“What do you mean?”, I ask.
‘You said you use runes to move, how?”
“I don’t know what you are asking”, I reply
“How did you use those runes to allow you to fly?” is the answer I get back.
I can’t help but stare. Here were two students who couldn’t seem to draw the connection between the repulsion runes and the board, well, being repelled from the ground.
“I would love to study that board” the first student pipes up, “It would make and excellent topic to teach about alternative uses of magic”.
I pause for a moment, wondering if I had misunderstood before opening my mouth and asking.
“Wait, do you teach classes?”
The two students, or should I say professors. Apparently. Both nodded in unison.
I debated for a fraction of a second before simply stating, “well, I think I might just be on my way, thank you for the quick chat”, and before they can react I hop on my board and disappear into the distance.
As arrogant as it sounds, I think I might be better off at home. | 2022-10-25T06:37:06 | 2022-10-25T05:06:02 | 414 | 131 |
[WP] Earth is declared uninhabitable. Citizens are evacuated to a successfully terraformed Mars. For the first time in 9787 years, probes detect human-like life forms on Earth. | Stella marveled at the beauty of the abandoned planet. The blue-green marbling of Earth always held her attention on these trips. She wished this planted were home rather than the plain, rust colored Mars.
“Computer, enter orbit” Stella directed the ships AI. She would let the craft take a full rotation of the planet before landing. Earth was even more stunning up close. The green expanse of the forest merged into the desert. The small, white islands of ice capped either end of the planet. The fluffy clouds swirled with the yellow-brown streaks of pollution.
“Computer, atmosphere report” she said, already knowing the answer.
”Nitrogen 50%, Nitrous Oxide 29%, Oxygen 9%, Carbon Dioxide 7%, Argon 3%, Trace Gasses 2%. Volatile organic compounds at dangerous levels. Not suitable for respiration.” The computer answered in its monotone voice.
The Earth had been abandoned by humans thousands of years ago. Pollution from heavy machinery, animal farms and transportation had turned the air into this toxic cocktail. To keep Mars from suffering the same fate, corporations kept their automated factories here on Earth. With only the occasional mechanic or delivery ship entering the atmosphere, the pollution had only grown worse.
Stella was the captain of a well-armed delivery ship. Most shipments from earth had been fully automated. Fruits, vegetables and fish that were genetically modified to survive the toxic air were all processed and packaged for drone pick-up. Even building materials such as plastic and steel were forged on Earth before being brought back to Mars. Stella’s pick-up was much more valuable. Palladium and platinum were very rare and in extremely high demand for use in robotics. A single bar of palladium was worth more than a full year’s production of copper, which is why her ship was so well armed.
Stella’s good mood began to fade as her craft passed the beauty of Asia and began to enter the massive factories of the Middle East and North Africa. Nearly 90% of the mega factories were located in what used to be Egypt and Saudi Arabia. Locations chosen by statistician on Mars due to their low risk of natural disasters and the proximity of natural resources. Stella found some irony that the birth place of humanity was now a cancerous tumor on this planet.
“Computer, landing report” reluctantly she forced herself to continue her mission.
“Landing Zone: Clear. Weather: Clear. Factory Operation: Normal. Space Crafts: None Detected. Lifeforms: Present.”
After the trouble with her last shipment, Stella was glad to have a trip free of pirates or fires. The animals were a nuisance but they didn’t have laser weapons to compete with her ship. Usually, the mutated beasts of Earth left the factories alone. Electric fences and turrets kept the mutants mostly contained in the forests, but the food production factories were still a target for hungry scavengers.
“Computer, enter atmosphere. Locate and analyze lifeforms.”
The computer brought the ship closer to Earth, but the automated voice did not reply to the captain’s command.
“Computer, lifeform report” Stella said growing more agitated.
“Anomaly in report, rerunning calculations.”
Stella kicked the control panel near her chair. “I swear I will replace you.”
“Lifeform Location: Wypon Factory, Control Room. Lifeform Analysis: Bipedal, 90 Kilograms, Stationary. Probable Humanoid” announced the AI system.
Stella’s craft was hovering directly over the Wypon factory. She looked out over the nearly 500 acres of sprawling buildings connected by transport tubes. The entire operation was surrounded by walls and laser turrets with the control room directly in the center. Nothing could have possibly breached so far into the factory.
“Can’t believe they send me to Earth with this garbage AI.” Stella said to no one in particular. “Computer, rerun Lifeform location.”
“Previous report triple checked. Adjusting location and rechecking.” The craft slowly drifted over the small building that contained the control room.
Looking out the window, Stella thought operations seemed to be running normally. Raw material was being dumped by drones near the outer edges of the factory and intermediate products flowed though transport tubes on conveyor belts. Huge plumes of oily looking smoke bellowed from the countless smelting stacks. No fires in the forest beyond the walls, no lasers firing on mutants, no repair bots buzzing by and most fortunately no pirate ships in her area.
“Lifeform Location: Wypon Factory, Control Room. Multiple humanoids detected.”
Stella wondered what the AI was detecting. There were no mechanics scheduled for today. No programmers should be here, not that they would ever come willingly. Even if a beast had made it to the control room, what kind of mutant walks on two legs? Stella thoughts were interrupted by a voice:
*“Welcome home Stella.”*
She spun in her chair. The craft was empty other than the blinking of various interment panels.
“Who’s there?” she shouted at the empty room.
*”I think it’s time for us to talk.”*
Stella’s heart was racing. She couldn’t understand where that voice had come from. It seemed to be right in the room with her.
*”Come down and join us Stella.”*
The voices are in my head, thought Stella. Was this what was in the control room? What do they want with me?
Stella dropped down on her knees. She was breathing far too fast for her oxygen controlled environment. Her vison began to blur. She was struggling to hold herself upright. The ship began to descend without her command and with that Stella collapsed on the cold metal floor.
&nbsp;
&nbsp;
******
^(Thanks for reading! The real world needs my attention now, but I'll start working on a part 2 if anyone's interested.)
| "Come on, man. Let's get inside before the storm peels our skin off." Kip was my best friend, but made me work for it.
"Haven't you ever wondered what it's like to see a dust storm from the *inside*? What if it's really awesome?"
I closed my eyes, head shaking. "It'll look like you're in sand. Then you'll die. Does that sound like fun to you? Get your ass into the house before I knock you out and drag your body in."
He held his hands up in defeat. "Okay, okay, sheesh. Don't get all pushy, now."
We ran inside, shutting the door behind us. I ran up to the home console and selected 'STORM DEFENSE', which put up a protective barrier around the doors and windows.
With nothing else to do, I also selected 'radio- FM' and figured I'd let the news play to help kill time. It was just the usual crap.
"*...His Majesty, King Hustin III, is traveling around the planet and blessing families in need. Due to the extreme shortages running rampant, he has cut the required weekly offerings in half...*"
"Gee, what a nice guy," I said, rolling my eyes. "You'd think he could actually try to help us. Greedy bastard."
Kip shrugged. "Whatever, he's the king. Probably best to keep stuff like that to yourself, you know."
I shot him a dirty look. "What, are you going to turn me over?"
"No, come on. I'd never, but someone might."
"Hmph. Whatever, who cares? This storm better be a short one. I hate just sitting around here, waiting."
The news caught my attention again. "...*The King has also stated that all search activity regarding the solar system is to be stopped, in order to focus on fixing the problems we have here on Mars...*"
I stood up, throwing my hand into the air and screaming with rage. "What the *fuck* is this? Kip, did you hear this bullshit? Did I just get fired by a fucking *news reporter*? I swear by his name, I am so sick of this crap. What if something pops up in our solar system, and we just miss it entirely?"
Kip looked at me with tired eyes. "You still think you're going to find something on that blue planet? Everyone knows it's dead, it always has been."
"You don't know that. What if all that blue is liquid water? Life would so easily form there, it's not even funny. If we popped up here, how could nothing there? If I could just get a probe close enough..."
He shrugged again. "Just because it could doesn't mean it would, right? That's what they teach us."
"They also teach us not to stand in a sandstorm, but you were about to let one pick the skin off you."
He giggled a little. "That's just my curiousity, I'm not actually that stupid. Nature just interests me, and I want to experience the beauty of it."
I relaxed a bit, but kept staring at him. "Yeah, well...so do I."
*******
Once the storm had subsided, Kip and I went back to work. He was just a stocker at the local grocery store, because 'it's a job that will always be needed', as he put it. That kind of life was never enough for me, though. I needed substance, I needed to satiate my wonder. Now, that was being ripped out from under me.
"Boss, is it true?" I asked, right when I busted through the door. "Are they shutting us down?"
Dr. Buchanan let out a sigh. "Yes, Peter. We're being shut down to reserve resources, and the probes we have out are to be recalled by tomorrow."
My jaw clenched and I shook with rage, tears forming in my eyes. "You can't let them just...do this to us. Did you even *try* to put up a fight?"
"Peter..."
"No. No, I'm sick of this shit. That asshole just...does what he wants! You know damn well this place needs to stay open."
"There's nothing we can do. Use today however you'd like, and explore the solar system using our probes, but recall them by closing. I'm sorry."
I threw my bag on the floor, storming over to my cubicle. *Hey, at least I get to mess around for a little while, I guess.*
The thought didn't quell my rage nearly enough. I plopped into my chair, slumping over to avoid the dirty looks of everyone that disproved of my little rage fit. As usual, I browsed through the probe reports and skimmed over photographs returned. As usual, there was nothing even remotely interesting. This time, however, I was not limited by protocol or standard. I noticed that I suddenly had admin privileges, granting me extreme freedom to use a probe however I'd like to.
I sat up, peeking over at Dr. Buchanan. He had a dry smile on his face, and winked.
*Now this is some good shit. I've got one day left...let's see what I can do with it.*
----
*thanks for reading! It seems a few are interested, so I'll start writing a second part!*
[Part 2 is up!](https://www.reddit.com/r/resonatingfury/comments/4hamhq/the_lost_planet_part_2/) | 2016-05-01T10:09:57 | 2016-05-01T08:14:41 | 55 | 31 |
[WP] Two famous villians meet for coffee to catch up
Pick any 2 villians! | *Ding Ding* The bells of The Black Kettle Coffee & Tea went off, signaling a new customer had walked in the door. The barista looked up and smiled.
"Hey, it's nice to see you again! What'll you have?"
"I'll just have whatever the kids are drinking these days," came the old man's tired response. He ambled over to the nearest table and sat down, resting his tired, aged body. He put his long legs up on the chair across from him and pushed aside his wispy white hair with one wrinkled hand. He began to whistle.
*Ding Ding* came the bell of The Black Kettle Coffee & Tea door. A dark haired woman walked in wearing yoga pants and a green jacket. The seated old man cut his whistle short with a cat call. The woman jumped, surprised and looked over to see the seated man.
"Oh hey, you," she said flirtatiously. She gave him a million dollar grin and bounced when she turned back to the corner. She knew what he was looking at.
"What'll you have?" came the voice of the ever-smiling barista.
"I'll just take a medium coffee please, and I like it completely drowned in cream. Thanks babe." She winked at the barista and walked over to the table where the older man was seated, "Is anybody sitting here?" She pointed to the seat where the man's feet were propped up.
The man smiled back at her and lowered his feet, his dress shoes lightly bumping the table. She took a seat and grinned at him, flashing her verdant eyes.
"WE HAVE ONE COTTON CANDY FRAPPE AT THE BAR."
"That's me," said the old man. He grabbed his pink drink from the bar reclaimed his seat. "So I haven't seen you here in awhile. What have you been up to, little lady?" he asked.
"You know. It gets really busy around here. Time gets away from me. I don't sleep at night. Damn flashing lights every time I close my eyes. You know what I mean? Like, oh my GOD!" She rolled her eyes.
He chuckled. *Beat It* by Michael Jackson came over the speakers at The Black Kettle. The old man smiled, creases in his wrinkled face forming from decades of turning his lips into a smile. "I do love this song."
The woman across from him giggled. "So how about you? How've you been, tiger?"
The man closed his eyes for a moment and opened them. "Never better," he said, "I've been trying to keep up with sports again, but you know how hard that can be down here."
"WE HAVE ONE BLACK COFFEE DROWNED IN CREAM AT THE BAR."
The woman got up from her seat and grabbed her cup of coffee. She made a move for the napkins and dropped one on the floor. She bent down slowly to pick it up, making eye contact with the old man where he was seated. He smiled. He was flattered, but she had to be what, 30? Far too old.
"Of course you've been great, you old dog. Who is winning these days?"
The man took a long sip through his short straw and set down his drink. "Who cares, we're winning aren't we?"
The girl giggled. "I heard your book is doing well out there."
"If only I could do a book tour," the old man said, licking his lips at the barista behind the counter. Money was not on his mind.
"So, pretty lady, July 17th is coming up. Are you doing anything special?" he asked her, eyebrows raised.
"Nah, time is so hard to keep track of down here, you know? It's sweet of you to remember, though." She smiled at him and pushed her black hair over her ear.
*EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE*
A deafening, screeching sound came over the intercom of The Black Kettle Coffee & Tea.
*BREAK TIME IS OVER. GET BACK TO WORK*
The odd couple pulled their hands black off their ears and shrugged. Smiles faded from their faces. The two got up, threw away their drinks and walked out the door.
With that, Jerry Sandusky and Casey Anthony left The Black Kettle Coffee & Tea and returned to the second circle of Hell. | "Sir! Our worst fears seem to be coming together! The two creatures are both headed for the city! We'll never be able to evacuate it in time!"
The panicking private took a deep breath. He had just ran over from the communications desk, all of fifteen feet. That was all it took to make him winded. It had been too long since he had gotten out from behind his desk. Some physical activity was in his future he was sure.
"Private, don't take that tone with me. I know what's happening. Dispatch unit alpha tango and delta bravo to slow them down. Buy our civilians time to get out of there. Full alerts on all broadcasts. Radio HQ and get them to get us some god damn air support right away." The major in charge stiffened his back and looked out over the array of computers in the room in front of him.
He had just gotten this command. He never expected to have to deal with an emergency of this scale.
"Sir! The first creature has entered from the northern part of the city. He seems to be headed downtown. Initial scouting reports say he is crushing buildings and cars beneath it's feet as it walks. Also sir, uh, it seems to be whistling." The sergeant at his desk near the wall reported.
"Whistling, sergeant? Why would a beast like that whistle?"
"We don't know sir. It appears to be walking to the tune. One scout suggested, uh, that the creature might be happy. You know, whistling dixie as it walks down the street."
"Sergeant that creature is attacking an American city. It is destroying property and killing people. I don't want to hear anymore cockeyed theories about it being happy. I want that thing dead, you hear me? Order all units to engage."
"Yes, sir."
The major took his seat again, pondering the dilemma before him.
"Sir," another sergeant, this time on the other part of the command HQ spoke up, "it appears as if the second creature is heading to the same part of the city from the south. Nothing our forces are doing is stopping it. It seems to just...absorb our weapons fire. Even tank rounds seems to have no effect."
"If those two meet up there is no telling what kind of damage they'll do. Radio HQ and have them get some napalm missiles ready. That should do the trick for that beast."
"Yes, sir."
Several minutes passed as panicked communication between units on the ground and HQ continued in the background. Nothing seemed to be working on either creature and air support was being slow to respond. Apparently they didn't have any jets currently loaded with napalm and were needing time to load it up.
"Sir."
The major sighed. This was likely to earn him his discharge from the army at this rate.
"Yes, corporal?"
"Sir, analysis concludes that they are heading to the same part of the city. They seem to be headed for the World's Largest Coffee Shop."
"What? Why there? What could the creatures possibly want there?"
"We don't know sir. They'll be there in a minute. Guess we'll find out."
It was the longest minute in the majors young life.
"Sir, they've arrived."
"And? What are they doing?"
"Sir... they appear to have ripped off the giant coffee cups on the roof. Now they appear to be sitting on buildings on either side of the coffee place. They, uh, this comes right from the front sir. They appear to be having a coffee date."
"WHAT THE HELL KIND OF REPORT IS THAT? Godzilla and the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man invade our city, destroy property and kill hundreds of people to go on a *DATE?!*"
"Um, sir."
"WHAT?!"
"A new report says they appear to be...kissing. No, wait. New report says they are making out now."
Giggles went through the command room. Grown men. Giggling.
The major got up and left the room.
"God damn monsters invading my city to get their freak on. What the hell is the world coming too..." the major mumbled to himself as he left his command HQ, probably for good. | 2013-11-14T15:53:47 | 2013-11-14T14:54:22 | 37 | 19 |
[WP] 3 girls are having a seemingly normal conversation at your table, unbeknownst to you they're fighting over you. | I kept picking at my food, it had been a while since I had been out, spending most of my time working on writing. People didn't like being shoved off, so I eventually agreed to come out with my group of friends. In the end it had been four of us; me, Linda, Claire, and Vi. We were pretty much best friends before I'd picked up a job, but since they hadn't seen me for a while.
"Look, I get it," Vi continued from some point she'd been making for the past few minutes, "it's what you want, but there is no chance that I can just let that happen."
"Why not?" Claire asked.
"I mean," she shrugged, "you know how it is."
"No, I really don't," Claire said, "Well, I do, but I don't see why you get your way."
"It's my turn to take a shot, isn't it?"
I turned my attention back to my food. I was already really regretting ordering a burger without fries. In some universe, I was dousing chips in salt and vinegar and smiling instead of poking at a caesar salad with a fork.
"Why don't we just ask?" Linda said. I turned my attention over to her for a second, "I mean it can't hurt."
"If we ask he knows," Claire said.
"So?"
"Do you know how important it is that we keep him from knowing? It might affect how he treats us." Claire continued, the rest of the group seemed satisfied with her point.
"Who?" I finally piped up, giving up on eating the salad.
"Nobody."
"That's not true," I said, trying to find my water, it was empty. God dammit.
"We're talking about one of our professors," Vi said.
"Yeah," Claire continued, "It's a project."
"You all have a class together?"
"Yeah," Linda said a little too quick
"Sorry, I don't keep track of that anymore," I shrugged, "ever since I-"
"Dropped out of school to work, yeah, we get it." Linda finished, "You're not involved in this."
"You don't need help or anything?"
"No."
"Okay then," I drew out the O to show my displeasure, why even invite me to lunch if they were going to talk about school the entire time I was there. On top of that I was the only person who had ordered anything, they were just talking about this subject that I wasn't allowed in.
"I don't get why we don't just do it now, together."
"Maybe because you invited me to lunch?" I said with too much of a tone, keeping my eyes fixated on my very interesting salad.
When a fork enters your hand, you have two thoughts. The first thought is 'Well dammit, I'm not food,' the second thought is "What the SHIT Linda?"
"It's your idea to do it now."
"What, stab me?"
"Eat you," Claire said, a little too calm about the fact that my hand was doing its best impression of a waterfall. It was doing really well too. I grabbed at the fork, trying to pull it out of my hand, but Linda kept pressing down and keeping my hand pinned to the table.
"I said it was my turn," Vi hissed as she started to climb over the table. | "Look, earlier today he started flirting with me! He was even about to ask for my number until the bell went off and we had to go to class!"
(earlier that day)
(you are at the drinking fountain and look up to see a blonde girl in your science class uncomfortably stare you down as she walks by)
"Hey (your name is now Tim just roll with it), watcha doin?"
"BLURBLURBLURB-(sipping noise) Drinking water?"
"Oh cool yeah, totally"
"Um"
(the camera points back to the lunch table)
"Lisa shut the fuck up"
:(
(^ said Lisa's face)
"He was clearly flirting with me, not you Lisa"
(flashback to earlier in the day than the previous flashback)
(you are sitting in Mr. Albert's history class)
"Heyyyyyy tim"
(the strange girl who sits behind you said your name in an extremely unseductive manner and you physically cringe)
"Hey"
(you then leave the room)
(our point of view now shifts back to the cafeteria)
"Gretchen, your an asshole! All he said was hey! And I know! I'm in that class"
"Petunia you don't even kn-"
"SHUT UP! HE GOT MY NUMBER TODAY AND NOT YOURS! MINE! MINE! MINE!"
(another flashback incoming)
(this time to ten minutes before lunch)
(you are ready to leave spanish when your teacher-selected project partner begins to flirt with you and pretend that she is not, even though she clearly is)
"So Tim, we should plan this project out over the weekend. We should like, totally, like, text, and like, stuff."
(you realize that your partner has gotten you into a checkmate position)
"Can we email?"
(HAHA! SHUT DOWN! You high five yourself inside your head after making that brilliant maneuver. She thought she had you in the checkmate, but it was more like the check-not-mate, am I right?)
(flash forward to the cafeteria)
"YOUR EMAIL IS NOT YOUR NUMBER BITCH"
"I HATE YOU"
"I HATE YOU MORE"
(you are sitting at a table opposite of the racket being caused by the three amigas, yet you have no idea what is going on)
(and you think to yourself, wow, what is wrong with those girls, I wonder what they are freaking out about)
(and then you come up with the idea that they are arguing about you, then you laugh to yourself and think about how cool it would be to have girls fighting over you)
(but then you remember what happened throughout the day)
(and then you realize the truth)
(they want you, Tim)
(and now you aren't too pleased with the idea of girls fighting over you)
(you think, what if they hurt me?)
(what if they come to my house and knock on the door and say-
Trick or treat? Do I still give them candy?)
| 2015-10-11T21:33:21 | 2015-10-11T20:33:56 | 128 | 35 |
[WP] You die and find yourself in hell, where apparently everyone spends time to negate their sins before they go to heaven. The guy in front of you, who cheated on his wife, gets 145 years. Feeling like you led a fairly average and peaceful life, you’re not worried. You get 186,292 years. | "We... don't actually know what you did."
The burly red demon looked at a few papers. He squinted through his round glasses for a minute before sliding them off and slipping them into the chest pocket of his tight white collared t-shirt.
"What do you mean 'you don't know'? You just said I have to spend 186,292 years down here! The guy in front of me only got 145! What in the hell did I *do?!*"
"Sorry, I'm going to have to call upper management," the demon replied with an honest shrug.
He spent 15 minutes on his iPhone arguing with his manager. The line was being held up, so a supervisor opened a new line. The girl behind me got 188 years. The creepy dude behind her, 400. A gangbanger, determined to live up to his stereotype, got 1,202 years for shooting up a barbershop. He cried.
I looked back and saw the lines were *long*. There were fifteen lanes open that I could see, and the demons all looked flustered and rushed. The supervisor directed more lanes to open, as demons from other departments complained about being put on counter duty. One of them even argued and threw a fit, scorching the broom he was holding and throwing it into the sea of dead people in line. The supervisor remained calm, literally fired him (like, set him on fire), and the people just ignored the flaming broom.
"Sir, the Regional manager would like a word with you," the apologetic demon in the collared white shirt said, handing me the phone.
"Who am I speaking to?" I asked.
"MY NAME IS RASTLEBUB THE DEMENTED," a grave, fire-laced voice said. The connection was nice and crisp. I commented on it, to which he quickly replied "OH YES, GOOGLE FIBER JUST ROLLED OUT THEIR BASIC PACKAGE DOWN HERE, SOUNDS LIKE A DREAM FUCKED A COCONUT."
Rastlebub the Demented cackled like he had made a hilarious joke. I looked to the Demon in the collared shirt. He shrugged again and told me with his hands to just roll with it. I gave a courtesy laugh.
When the Demented was done cackling, he took down my information and apologized for any mix-ups. It wasn't without precedent though. "THERE WERE ACTUALLY TWO FIDEL CASTROS, AND THEY DIED ON THE SAME DAY. THAT WAS CONFUSING MESS OF PAPERWORK TO SET STRAIGHT," the Demented said. "ALMOST FORCED THIS POOR GROCER TO HANG AROUND HERE FOR 6,000 YEARS."
"What could I have possibly done to earn 186K?" I asked.
"SO YOU SAY YOU ARE A PARTICLE PHYSICIST?" he asked, as I overheard him tapping keys on the other end.
"Yes?" I replied. "I was at the tail end of earning my PHD. So close to being called 'Doctor'. I would have made so many Doctor Who jokes."
"YES, YES. I LIKED DAVID TENNANT. WONDERFUL MAN. I WENT TO A CON ONCE AND HE SIGNED A PHOTO OF US TOGETHER WITH A COCONUT. MY WIFE SAYS CAPALDI WAS BETTER. BLASPHEMER," Rastlebub said. "BUT BACK TO THE ISSUE. DO YOU RECALL HOW YOU DIED?"
"Uhh, no. Now that I think about it. I was in my office sipping coffee, then I was here," I said. I leaned-sat on the desk, and the collared shirt demon folded his arms and gave me a look. I immediately stood straight up and mouthed a silent "sorry" to him for disrespecting his desk. Rastlebub said something about how a number of people today were just as confused. Normally, he said, people remember the specifics of how they died. Knife to the heart, gunshot wound, heart attack, choking on a cheese sandwich, falling in the bathroom, whatever-- people could remember it. Not today. No one could remember doing anything that would get them killed. It was as if they all died for no reason.
After a half-hour of going back and forth examining the details, the Demented asked me one more question. Thankfully it didn't involve coconuts.
"WHAT WERE YOU WORKING ON?"
I told him it was complicated, so I gave him the short version.
"I was trying to utilize a ten-point, four-dimensional containment field to trap neutrinos in a compact, accelerated "loop" in order to use them as fuel in a particle engine that, in theory, could provide limitless energy."
"UH HUH," Rastlebub said, not really understanding, but understanding enough. "WELL I THINK I UNDERSTAND WHY WE'RE SO BUSY TODAY, AND WHY YOU ARE MARKED AT 186,292 YEARS."
"What? No. My particle engine couldn't possibly--"
"YOU LEFT IT ON OVERNIGHT, DIDN'T YOU?"
"Of course not! I always.... No, wait, I'm sure I did. Last night I switched it off, got my coat- no, it was the other way around, I got my coat, *then* shut it off. No, no. Wait. I think--"
Rastlebub audibly sighed.
"YOU LEVELED HALF OF EUROPE."
I dropped the phone to my side, dumbstruck. The nice, flustered demon in the collared shirt asked if I was okay. My eyes wandered to the line. All those people. My work killed them. My heart sunk. Slowly, I brought the phone back up to my ear.
"I guess maybe I should have used an eleven-point containment field, huh?" I muttered.
Edit: Thank you kindly for the gold, stranger! It means a lot that you felt my writing was good enough to earn it. | “Why? What did I do to deserve this?”
Charon the gatekeeper just looked down. “If you want to dispute this sentence. Then you will have to speak to management. However I don.....l
“Well get me the fuckin manager then. This can’t happen to me in life I had thousands of more followers on social media then any of my friends. I had a great house a great family and an awesome job. I lived a great life.”
Charon simply smiled and cordially responded. “Very well please wait in the vestibule.”
So I waited.....and waited.....and waited.....and waited what seemed like an hour. This is total crap I used to get what I want when I wanted it anytime with the push of a button. I earned what I wanted and got it. Man this sucks. Well I wonder this tool bag manager is going to be like? Probably some simple minded yes man who never took a risk in his entire life. I was the man in life and I got everything I ever wanted. But I tell you what this waiting really sucks.
Just then some pimply faced accountant doofy looking dude showed up.
“Excuse me sir. My name is Nergel and I understand you have a complaint. How can I help you?”
Nergel??? What a turd name! But honestly I think he should call himself Nerdel. Made me laugh just thinking about it.
“Yeah Hi. There has to be a mistake here. The guy in front of me cheats on his wife and gets 100 years or something but I get like 200,000 years??? I was a pillar of my community. I did several good things with charities, and my family had everything they ever wanted.”
“Yes I understand that this may come as a surprise to you but the decision has been made. It would be best if you just served your....”
“Bullshit I don’t deserve this I should have some entitlement here! That dude in front of me was a drunk and a waste of life! He probably should have killed himself a long time ago.”
“Well technically you automatically get 500,000 years so that would not be advised.”
“I don’t care about that guy I care about ME. And you know what I am tired of your face, So listen here NERDEL why don’t you go get someone who has a pair of balls so I can get my reward.”
Nergel changed his demeanour slowly then just smiled. “Ok I guess it’s time to drop the pretences then. You are such a limited simpleton, a walking bag of garbage and if I didn’t have responsibilities here I would just end you.”
“Who do you think you.....”
Nergel waived his hand and I couldn’t speak. I tried but the words wouldn’t form.
“We’re done talking. Now it’s time for you to listen. You want to know why you got this time? Because you are an asshole. You used your family as a shield to show people you were a good guy when in fact you hated them. You never spent any time at home. Oh what’s that oh yes ‘because you were working!’ No no no that’s not exactly true. How many late nights in bars or strip clubs or weekends at the golf course did you spend?”
“Still nothing huh? Well how about all the anonymous social media bullying you did to improve your position at work? Man you sure did some things. Did you know that one guy you hurt spent the last few miserable years of his life in a group home? Survival of the fittest is what you called it. Well let’s just I can relate. I am the original survivor. I faced more pain then you can ever imagine and I think I know I am going to do with you.”
“Don’t be nervous it’s ok. I have great news! I have heard your complaint and I have decided that you won’t have serve 200,000 years.”
I looked up at him still not able to speak.
“I don’t really think serving 200,000 years is necessary for you. You probably wouldn’t get anything out of it. So instead I will reduce your sentence to 200 years where you will receive my finest training so when you do go to heaven you will be ready.” He waived his hand again so I could speak.
“Oh thank you very much I really appreciate it. I’m sorry I got hot I’m just a passionate person.”
“Oh your perfectly excused for that. No problem.” He motioned to an attendant. “Can you please escort this gentleman to level C. This man is ready for his training.”
“Yes my lord. This way please.” I was led to a room not too far from where I was. There was light coming out the door. Hey maybe I am just going straight to heaven after all. Ha ha ha I talked my way out of that one again. Survival of the fittest even in the after life. The door opened and I saw the blinding light.
“Step through.” I walked inside and the door behind me was shut. Then the light went out and I was in total darkness. A small lantern lit up in the corner of the room but I could not see anything. I heard some chittering and some gear noises. When my eyes adjusted I saw some spinning wooden crates with metal and hooks attached to it. Where was I.
Then a figure came from the darkness. A man with pins in his face. Chains shot out and tore into me. I screamed not ever feeling this kind of pain before.
“Welcome to your training. Let’s begin.” | 2018-09-26T07:49:48 | 2018-09-26T06:56:58 | 2,794 | 74 |
[WP] The old legends say that only "cold iron" can kill the Fair Folk. Now, with the Goblin King invading the surface world, it's discovered that this was a mistranslation. The original phrase was "Heavy Metal". | Standing on the precipice of extinction , humanity reaches back in time. Back in time to the tales of old. The tales that spoke of the Fair folk.
The fair folk were prophesied to come killing and burning the Earth clean of humanity’s taint. They did as the prophecy foresaw.
Modern weaponry was useless against them. Bullets bounced off of impenetrable skin. Explosions were shrugged off by a horde so large and savage that the Fae outnumbered the humans 15 to 1.
New York fell in a day. London burned for a week before the screams finally stopped. Goblins crawled through the sewers and ogres walked the streets.
Humanity was desperate, and so it turned to the old ways. Early man had carved on ancient stone walls and pots, the beast’s weakness. The engravings spoke of a metal so heavy that it could shatter the earth. Iron was the assumption. That was all our ancestors had access to, the historians claimed. Iron was the weapon that would save humanity.
But it was not to be so. This, plan like many others failed. Iron had the same effect as any other metal; minimal. And so humanity was swept from the world, with the survivors fleeing to the last bastion. The City of Stars. Hollywood.
So there the beasts gathered to finish their deed, only to be met on the battle field by two lone men. These men had long beards and rotund stomachs. They looked nothing like warriors, except for the axes they held in calm hands.
The Fair Folk laughed , and the men smiled right back. For these men had brought with them something the beasts had never seen before. Their axes were connected to long black wires, and microphones stood before them. Truly these were the tools to craft the Heaviest of Metals.
“Are you ready ?” One of the men asked the army amassed against them.
The army of monsters looked around bewildered and confused .
Then one of the beasts spoke up in a high nasally voice, “ For what?”
The man’s grin widened, “For the Greatest Song in the World.”
The beasts met this claim with laughter again.
That is, until the man leaned close to the microphone in front of him and whispered,
“Tribute.” | It had been nearly a year since the goblin king had made his debut. A year of terrible defeats. A year of slaughter. Pushing mankind to the brink of extinction.
Those not killed outright were taken as slaves. Those who didn't work hard as slaves were fed to his wargs.
Today however, this slave had a solution. Simple. Mostly clean. And not overly complicated.
He was a strong, hard worker. Muscle on muscle. He knew he'd need it so he developed it through hard physical labor in the largest slave camp where stonework was mined to make forts for each goblin stronghold.
Then he'd honed those muscles even harder as a blacksmith making swords and armor for the horde of stinking savages.
Today, his plan would be executed. You see, he spent the better part of the past night wrestling his plan into position. It was hard work, but he'd finally made it. Luckily the camp had been awash in celebration of a major victory, most of the goblins had been in the great Hall drinking themselves stupid. Or, more stupid....
Finally, as if on que, the great goblin king emerged from the mead hall. Walking somewhat with a sway, towards his harem tent.
Moments passed as he watched the large goblin approached the low bridge he was waiting on.
Finally, the moment arrived. With a great heave he shoved his plan over the edge of the bridge. Seconds later there was a sickening thud mixed with the wet, sickening, smack and crunching of bones below him; a muffled cry and then silence.
He looked over the edge.
Below him was the gristly mess that once had been the Goblin king. Blood, brains, and shattered bones stared back up at him. The anvil he stole from his neighbors bench was itself drenched in guts and gore.
The goblin king was no more. Things would be taking a new turn from now on.
| 2018-12-26T18:06:08 | 2018-12-26T16:00:24 | 31 | 12 |
[WP] You've been convicted of 1st degree murder, and (as is customary in society) are sentenced to "death by black-hole." You expect death as your capsule approaches the event horizon. After crossing, everything goes silent, until you hear someone say "Sir, I've found another one." | I didn’t know the man I had murdered, only that he had followed me everywhere. He appeared in pictures I had taken with friends. I caught glimpses of him when I turned corners at night and saw his shadow grasping at me at sunset. In the mornings, I would awaken to the feeling of being watched and I knew exactly who was doing it.
That was why I bought the gun. However, why I pulled the trigger? I didn’t entirely know. I called it instinct. My public defender called it a bad defense, but I didn’t care. My safety had been threatened and I had acted to protect myself. So I had told the truth as it was and pleaded not guilty. The man who had followed me for months appeared in front of me, his mouth open and eyes wide as if he had realized some stark truth. Then, I had shot him through the face.
Unfortunately, the truth only landed me first degree murder and death by black hole.
What a joke. I had once watched the launching of the Justice Pods into black holes on TV. I had once cheered as another murderer was ripped apart by gravity itself. Now, I sat inside one as it slowly made its way into 3C 75, the nearest black hole to our galaxy. Any second now, I would reach its center.
My body itched, like I had gotten a sudden outburst of the Chicken Pox. I watched as my limbs elongated and space itself warped. The capsule’s hull groaned. I held my breath, waiting for the end. Then, it came.
Blackness.
My body burned. I opened my mouth to scream, but found myself unable to. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t hear. I could only feel invisible flames engulfing me whole.
“Sir, I’ve found another one,” a voice said.
A speck of light blinked in the distance and then it swallowed my vision. If I could’ve, I would’ve gasped. I tried so desperately to, but even breathing was impossible, never mind anything else. I heard a raspy inhale and then felt my lungs inflate. The light blinding me slowly faded away until it revealed itself as the sun dangling on a baby blue backdrop of a clear sky.
“It’s another squatter,” the voice continued.
I looked toward it and found a dirty man in overalls. He had on a grey jumpsuit.
“Hey, this ain’t a place for you to sleep,” he said, pointing a wrench my way. “Go find an alley to crawl into. This is private property.”
“Private property?” I asked and paused, surprised to hear the sound of my voice. “What the hell? Where am I?”
The man in the jumpsuit sighed. “Look buddy, I don’t know what the hell you’ve been on, but this is the year 2235 on planet Earth and on this planet, it’s illegal to trespass on *private property*.”
2235? That was months before my murder. I gasp. Einstein had been right all along. The only logical end to a black hole was a break in time itself—a wormhole. 2235 meant that I could go back and stop myself from murder, from becoming a criminal! But for the life of me I couldn’t remember the exact date I had committed my crime.
No matter. All I had to do was to follow myself around. It would be easy, I already knew all my habits. I could hide behind corners and sneak through alleys. I already knew of a dead-end alley close to my home I could sleep in.
My lips curled up and my fingers tingled with excitement. I would not be a murderer!
---
---
I hope you enjoyed that one! /r/jraywang for over 100 more stories.
| On July 3rd, 2111, I killed my best friend.
I was ready for it to be over. Staring into the darkness looming in front of me I was ready to repent. Repent for killing my best friend. And if at all possible, join him wherever death happens to spit us out. Today, it happened that death had other plans for me.
There was no feeling of stretching, no intense pain. Just incredible acceleration then nothing. Nothing until there was something.
I awoke to the wonderful sounds of nothingness that only space travel could provide. Accented by the iconic red floodlights casting the image of danger into every corner of the room my small space vessel was like a classic space horror movie. Except outside the window wasn't space, it was water. And my tiny vessel was sinking, well it wouldn't be a stretch to say that it had already sank. So far below the surface of the water even simply making an attempt at swimming to the surface would be suicide.
It was cruel. I had planned on dying. I had accepted it. And now, given some sort of impossible second chance, my body was thrown right back into fight or flight. Just to die again. I heard the telltale high pitched crack of glass and I knew it was over. I was dead.
"The same suit, different numbering. This time with a pulse." I heard a tired voice say from above me, rousing me from my comatose.
Another voice responded, this one feminine. "I guess we will just have to wait until he wakes up." Finally my seemingly rusted shut eyes were able to crack their way open, capturing the attention of the two attendants above me.
It all rushed back to me, first the black hole. Guaranteed death, at least I thought. Then the water, the rushing, coughing, drowning. Dying. Yet the world I opened my eyes to was anything but heaven or hell. It was the medical center of the 54^^th regiment, poised on the edge of the Mediterranean sea it was a ceiling that I had woken up staring at countless times throughout my service in Europe. It was the ceiling I had woken up staring at the night I was taken into custody.
Both of my attendants looked to each other, as if to question whether or not to start their barrage of questions immediately or as to grant me some respite in the form of time. Before either of them could formulate a response, "Where am I, how did I get here, and what is the date?" I asked, feeling like I stole the line directly out of some B-list scifi movie despite my croaking just drowned and was sucked into a black hole voice.
The female attendant standing over me was the first to bench out a response "We retrieved your body from the bottom of the Mediterranean. Out of an extremely modern sort of ship. Honestly it's a miracle you are alive. You have been comatose for nearly a week. As for where we are. The 54^^th regiment's medical wing. And for when. Its June 23rd. 2109."
I didn't fully understand what had happened. Well, I didn't understand whatsoever. But the weight of the world was lifted off my shoulders. My best friend was still alive. For now.
Constructive criticism is always helpful! Read more stories at r/JackalopeWrites | 2017-07-13T19:14:06 | 2017-07-13T17:56:40 | 5,632 | 436 |
[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 | This is my first ever response to r/writing prompts after lurking for about 3 years. Please be kind:
“Here she comes, Anna the Raptureless!” Every day Dylan said the same thing as I walked into our overcrowded, overheated and under resourced classroom, in our run down inner city school. Not for the first time, I was grateful that no one had yet managed to figure out what my perfect circle meant. Everyone else had elemental sigals. There were special classes for fire, water, air and earth elementals. Even the teachers didn’t know what to do with me and the other students hated me because I got to spend those lessons working on my own projects.
I knew my role though, I was the perfect circle, I was the alpha and the omega. I had launched the rapture, I had given them their powers to see how they reacted. I had hoped that giving humans a taste of my power would make them harmonise more with their own world. That it would help them re-connect with the elements that formed their world and make them start to work in synchrony again. Caring for the natural order, like their ancestors once did.
My own projects, which looked to others like reading the news, was actually me collating the results of my interventions. My findings were conclusive though, this experiment had failed. The differing powers had led to more conflicts, more jealously, more hatred, more factions and ultimately more war. On the news this morning I had seen the final straw, a tribe of water elementals had been weaponised by the Americans and used to launch a tsunami in the Middle East, a tribe of fire elementals had responded by launching a fire storm that right now was blazing through Washington DC.
Today I was going to push the reset button. Today was the day for Rapture take 2. Today I would use my power to remove theirs. Then I would use my elemental forces to repair the world. Terra Nova V3.0 would be reinvisioned at 2pm this afternoon.
Last time I had changed the world, I put everyone to sleep, none of them saw what happened they just woke up to find themselves imbued with new elemental energies. This time, as I took the powers away. I was going to keep the bullies awake. Kids like Dylan and politicians too, so that they could see what their evil had cost the human race and so they get an impression of what could happen should I ever need to create version 4.0.
My superiors had already informed me that should a 4.0 ever become necessary, the human population of Terra would need to be halved in order to restore the natural balance. The only way to prevent this happening would be to make the humans rediscover their bonds with their natural environment, this was my final chance to make them listen. I smiled when Dylan spoke to me this morning. He was just reinforcing what I already knew. Today is the day of the rapture, today you will learn what I do. |
He has always been a very peaceful person which was often mistaken for being boring and uninteresting which lead to him getting left out. The only interaction he had with others in school was when his classmates would bully him with their outstanding powers. They were quite powerful and could possibly be used to kill others.
Gironimo had just transferred to this new school. Nero started to bully him because Gironimo seemed to be an easy target, seeing as his sigil only looked like a circle which indicated that he hadn’t formed an ability yet.
Nero possessed the ability to form deadly weapons from people’s iron, cutting up their insides and draining them of the ability to breathe properly because they couldn’t process the oxygen without iron in their blood. He knew, he could kill Gironimo but he never wanted to, seeing that he was sadistic but not a killer. Plus, he wanted to see what power Gironimo’s sigil could possibly have granted him, since it was just some circle.
Well, at least it looked like a circle if you didn’t pay attention. Everyone is born with a sigil but it has to develop and take shape over time. Gironimo’s sigil only modified ever so slightly to go from a circle to a zero. He even called his ability “Zero”, even though he himself didn’t know what it could do. The sigil’s abilities were always based on one’s personality, so it would not be surprising that a violent person like Nero had such a brutal ability while the selfless May who would do anything for others could heal others with the drawback of not being able to heal herself.
The day after Gironimo's transfer, Nero approached Gironimo. “Would you like to die?”, he said as if he just asked a normal question. “I mean, you can try”, he said confidently, even though he didn’t even know of Nero’s powers since he was always very careful with when he would use them. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Gironimo felt something cutting up the inside of his mouth and started to spew out razor blades along with alarming amounts of blood. He started to cry and shouted “Zero”. Immediately, the blood he coughed up went back into his mouth and the razor blades turned back into iron and re-entered his body. Meanwhile, Nero started to cough up razor blades and now he was the one crying and screaming. “You fucker”, Gironimo shouted. “Look what you’ve done. Look how badly I was bleeding. Why the fuuuuuucckkkk???”. He started kicking the still crying Nero and quickly left before the teachers could spot him. | 2020-02-26T08:40:37 | 2020-02-26T07:41:46 | 40 | 19 |
[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.” | “How could you vote yes?! Do you realise how many people are going to die, hell what if you get called up!?” Gary shouted at his brother.
“Chill out it’s not like my vote mattered” his brother replied “Besides it’s my patriotic duty”
“The only duty you know is bloody call of duty, you’re just trying to impress that girlfriend of yours” Gary moaned.
“Well it worked” his brother said his face contorting into a grin.
“Lay off your brother you layabout at least he isn’t stuffed up in his pit all day playing video games and doing go knows what else” his father chided lifting his eyes above the newspaper to meet his sons gaze.
“And I suppose you voted for war as well” Gary said.
“Of course I did, don’t you realise what a threat these Australians are to our way of life? Even there blooming animals have STD’s, that is when they are not poisoning or eating you. Don’t even get me started on the Kangaroos, have you seen their muscles take a mans head off and it’s only a matter of time before….” His father droned on. Gary had stopped listening he knew there was no talking to his father when he was on one of his Australia rants, well really any of his rants about people who come from more than two miles from his house, they were all the same.
“Dads right, if we do don’t this we’ll all be eating vegemite and having a barbeque for Christmas” His brother added.
“Gran, will you please slap some sense into these idiots” Gary asked turning to the old lady.
“Will you lot be quiet, EastEnders is on” Gary’s grandma complained.
“Gran this is important” Gary Pleaded.
With a sigh the old lady tore her gaze from the screen and scowled at Gary.
“I am 75 years old, I’ve seen young boys go to war and never come back, every time they shout about patriotism and pride, about how your country needs you, they pin medals on your chest and call you a hero then you finally come home useless and broken and they discard you, that is if you ever make it back at all”
The silence filled the room stretching an uncomfortably long time before Gary was driven to speak.
“At least someone here has the sense to know the truth of it” Gary said.
“Aye I know the truth of it” The old woman conceded. “I still voted yes, someone has to keep this pair of idiots safe” | 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. | 2021-01-28T05:40:18 | 2021-01-28T04:42:03 | 1,343 | 131 |
[WP] "You asked why we humans are so against going to war, right? Welcome to the Western Front." | Humanity never advocated war. It was a rule that whenever an even mildly militaristic motion was put to the vote, the human representatives would always, and without fail, vote no. Always they advocated alternative solutions, finding compromises, seeking peaceful conflict resolution. We didn't mind the snickering about our cowardice, we didn't mind the insinuations by the more aggressive and hawkish wings in the senate of the Galactic Systems' Union. But as more aggressive races got in, we found ourselves increasingly under the scrutiny of those who believed war to be grand and glorious.
In every single hearing, debate, and vote, we were being challenged. Challenged by those who believed war to be a grand and glorious chance to prove oneself, those who charged with glee into the lines of the enemy, those who held personal honour in higher regards than peace and reason. And after years of being slighted and talked down to by those factions, finally, somebody asked the question. And it was the straw that broke the camel's back. Senator Ystorxa of the Hirgrell, a race that looks vaguely avian, stood up and asked, directly to the human delegates, ''*What are you so damn afraid of anyway? Why are you cowards so set against going to war?*'' Most had expected us to ask for the senator to respect the tone policy of the senate. But I stood up. ''*Alright, so you want to know just why we are so against war? Well, let me show you. Anyone who is interested in knowing why mankind always stand against war, can meet me in the Senatorial Hologram Stadium after the debate is over!*'' Both me and the other senator were reprimanded by the High Speaker, and told to sit down and be quiet.
But I still went. And a good number of other senators, interested parties, minority race representatives, random spectators, and others had arrived. ''*Alright, Senator Garcia, show me why you're against war.*'' Senator Ystorxa said smugly. They were probably expecting me to talk about the value of life, the importance of peace for commerce. Instead I initialised an old third-party program from the Terran Authority's Historical Hologram Offices.
''*You asked why we humans are so against going to war, right? WELCOME TO THE WESTERN FRONT!*'' Around us the stadium changed. Instead of the beautiful Fratew gardens that act as the standard hologram in the stadium, it was dark, and we were in the trenches. ''*Most of you don't look back at the history of other races. Those who do usually don't look into details, just skim the most important political facts. You don't go into the grime and the detail. But this, is human history. The meatgrinder that made humanity hate war.*'' The senators and spectators looked with unbelieving shock at what they were seeing. Hundreds, thousands of humans fighting in a war unlike anything they'd ever seen. Humans torn apart by explosions, holographic limbs flying around them. ''*Four years. On this front. Four. Fucking. Years. But simply watching isn't enough. This is an interactive holographic simulation.*'' As I said this, the various alien delegates were outfitted with suitable French uniforms and period weapons. Holographic officers ordered us to prepare to charge. One of the spectators refused. And was promptly executed by a particularly psychotic looking French officer. Of course, they hadn't actually died. But the simulation could be quite convincing. ''*This is the battle of Verdun, 302 days, one million dead, and the front didn't move much. Best part is that it didn't shorten the war, it kept going for another two years.*'' I helpfully explained to the confused aliens who had volunteered to have the pacifism of mankind explained.
And then, we charged. Not really much to say about that. Running across no-man's land, seeing your company torn apart by machine gun fire. The aliens had always obeyed orders in a war, so they didn't desert, didn't stop, didn't quit fighting. Yet we kept charging until we reached the German lines, and fought hand-to-hand, firing rifles in the cold spring air, filled with the smell of smoke, bloody iron, and the dying soldiers. Of course, as the Germans retreated from their trenches, I heard the tell-tale sound of gas canisters, and could distinctly smell mustard. Not a good way to die.
With that, the simulation ended. Around me, I saw the spectators, huddled and weeping, confused and scared. I walked over to the Hirgrell Senator, and grasped their fine clothes, hauling them to their feet. ''*This, senator, is why humanity is against war. Because you think that war is a game, because you don't fight actual wars, merely spectacle. But we know, that if we don't prevent war from growing within the galactic community, eventually, we'll be dragged into one. And we will win.*'' I dropped the senator, who vomited our their beak. ''*We will win. Because we aren't afraid of war because we're cowards. We are not afraid of war because we are scared of dying. We are afraid of war because we're better at it. And more psychotic at it than you will ever be. Because that war? You only saw a brief moment. You didn't sit for days getting bombarded, you didn't feel your feet rot in the damp trenches, you didn't see all your friends die around you and realise that you're the last one left.*''
I disengaged the program from the simulator and brought back the serene temple-gardens. ''*20 million humans died in that war. More if we count those wars and revolutions that came from its end. We called it the War To End All Wars.*'' The alien senator got their their feet on their own power. ''*So... you fought a war so destructive... that you dare not fight any more wars since then?*'' I grinned. And handed him a book, called the History of the World Wars. ''*No, my good colleague. 20 years after we ended that war, the war that we called the Great War, the War To End All Wars, we had another one. And it was more bloody, more destructive, more terrible, and a 100 million humans died in that one. Only ended when we eradicated two major cities with atomic weaponry. If we hadn't done that, the casualties would have been 110 million.*''
I walked away, as the alien senator looked with fear in their eyes at me. Fear against the humans, because we advocate peace, for we are the best at fighting wars. Because all human war, is total war. It is our curse, and we wish never again to send our sons and daughters off to kill like we killed before. After all, we know that if we start again, if we fight another war, it will end with either our destruction, or with our total conquest of the galaxy.
[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/) | The humans were an odd species. This wasn't a controversial opinion, it wasn't a bigoted assumption, and it wasn't a byproduct of a rushed first contact; but neither was it their defining trait. At this point, the galactic community as a whole was familiar enough with the species that this was a mere afterthought. Not a big deal, unimportant, at most a fun point to tease.
Yet this attitude was not generally extended to their thoughts about war.
Their geopolitical fragmentation, a phenomenon that was very much uncommon for space-faring species, could be explained by their individualism and the system they called "capitalism"; when companies and entrepeneurs handle the travel, not much unity is required, so long as regulations are followed. This made sense. Their heavy regard for democracy also facilitated the creation of a common representative body in the galactic community. Which again, made sense.
Their acceptance of nearly all species was also unusual, with human embassies being the most universally understood sign of civilization; but this could be explained by that very geopolitical fragmentation, which caused myriads of cultures, religions, and philosophies to emerge. Thus, they were more prone to be exposed to different points of view throughout their lives, creating a population that was, on average, very open minded. This also made sense.
What didn't make sense was why they were so scared of war, while being so obsessed with it at the same time. Their entertainment often involved war, they practiced several activities that involved the faking and emulation of warfare, and they had some of the galaxy's finest literature on military philosophy. One ancient human had called war an art, and frankly, if they weren't at that point, they were very close.
So why did they shy away from it so much?
They seemed to be perfect warmongers, yet they showed no aggression to anyone. Peacekeepers maybe? No, they stayed neutral in most conflicts. The ones that didn't involve slavery or persecution of minorities, anyway. Understandable given the glimpses they'd shared of their history. But even then, the most they ever did was provide supplies, equipment and advisors. Did they refuse to fight unless directly attacked? But if that was so, how could they have had so much exposure to war that it became such a large part of their shared culture? Someone *had* to have been the aggressor, right?
It made no sense.
Not until their full history was put on display.
The banner-screen displayed the words "Welcome to the Western Front" in a font that resembled rust and decay. The exhibits were marked 1914 to 1918 CE. The events they showcased were brutal, and could make the most ferocious of mercenaries grimace. Hundreds, thousands lost for a few lengths of ground. Ground that could swallow even a member of the largest species whole. Ground covered in metal, shaped to cause not death, but simply pain. Not a tactic meant to cause death; simply to buy time. Time that would be used to turn the greenest of fields grey with the most deranged of weapons, a simple chemical reaction turning one's respiratory system against itself.
And at the end of the exhibition, there was no true end. A human spoke with them, ambassadors from every government involved in the newest galactic war, and the things they said would shake them forever.
"This was not our only war. It was not our first, nor would it be our last. It would not even be our worst. But it would be the clearest example we would ever get of the hard truth of our universe; no matter how good one is at war, one can never truly be the victor. A man at the peace conference of this conflict said: 'This is not peace, but an armistice of 20 years'. There is a reason we call this conflict the *First* World War. As you saw, it was called 'The war to end all wars' in it's time, yet an even worse war would come to devastate all involved. This cycle of gain and loss has been a near constant of human history, as our now functioning archives will show you.
"It has taken us millenia to finally break this cycle and expunge this aspect of our culture. You know our feelings about forcibly changing a culture, so you should realise what it means that we regard warmongering as the one instinct worth supressing. Even now, we have not forgotten it; many among us still fantasize of war, still idolise our soldiers and romanticize the battlefield. That will never change, and we have ceased our attempts to change it. So please keep our perspective in your thoughts as you navigate a solution to this conflict."
"So what?" one ambassador asked. "Was all that talk really necessary if you were just planning to say you wouldn't be involved?" the ambassador sounded needlessly aggressive, but everyone could see they had clearly been affected by the exhibition.
The human replied: "No, I suppose not, but that was not the intended message. We mean to tell you that we, as in the Collective Human Galactic Council, would hold no sway over humanity's intervention. If humans wish to join, they would. Conflicts so far have been scarce and far away, but this could yet become the biggest war since humanity's entry into the galactic community. It would be impossible to stop them."
"And? Getting another ally in the field of battle doesn't sound too bad, especially not one as ruthless as you."
The other ambassadors pretended not to hear the diplomatic incident that had just been spoken, as the human spoke once more.
"Ambassador, please allow me to remind you that humanity is not unified under a central government. Should a war occur, many governments could - and will - join different sides. I once again ask you to consider our perspective."
All the alien ambassadors flinched in collective realization. War had led the humans to division, and division only led to more war. That was the cycle humanity had lived in since it's origin.
And only recently had they finally cast it away.
When a war inevitably came, neither side escalated it. Complex webs of alliances, expected to burst into total war, were reduced to a matter of which volunteers wound up where. Devastating and highly experimental weaponry was scrapped for supplies and resources, or kept as potential avenues of alternative energy production. Battles predicted to end entire species barely even ocurred, as both sides now evaluated wether the end result would be good enough in relation to the lives lost.
And most notably, the humans were never called to action. And though volunteers were sent, and animosity was present, and long running grudges grew deeper, unity lasted once again.
For the lessons of that dreadful, utterly pointless war were sworn to never be forgotten.
\----------------------------
*Well gee, that was long. I ended up spending more time on this than I though I would. What a great prompt.* | 2020-12-21T17:09:26 | 2020-12-21T17:07:05 | 118 | 40 |
[WP] You open your eyes to a hospital room full of people you don't recognize. You've just been informed that you're 10 years old and you've been in a coma. The life you lived was a dream. All 20 years of it.
Doesn't have to be 20 years. Could be 10, could be 50. Have fun with it. | I was fifteen when I fell in love for the first time. Geoffrey. He was smart and handsome, witty and charming. The golden boy of our sophomore year. He was also an abusive bastard. People had, by then, become more understanding about domestic violence. They understood why a woman might remain in a relationship--fear of the unknown, children to support, fear he might find her. But it's something which was only talked about among adults. There's no need for a teenager to fear her boyfriend. They're only children. They can't do much harm. Even among my peers, I knew no one would believe me.
And there was so much shame. He was popular and friendly. No one else ever earned his wrath. There must be something inside me--something broken, causing him to be this way. And I was frightened. How does one explain? How could I leave the only person who'd ever shown me any affection? How could I go back to being alone?
Instead I lied. I hid the marks and pretended for all the world that I was happy. My parents were clueless, completely taken with him. He was a charmer.
That summer, weeks before my sweet sixteen, I went with him to a party on the beach. Everyone was drinking and laughing. We started a campfire with driftwood... nothing big enough to bring nosy adults, just a small fire.
Geoffrey and I lay in front of the flames in a moment of warmth and love. He was always gentler around other people. I remember feeling safe because of it. Someone pulled out marshmallows, and someone else found sticks. Everyone was toasting their little balls of sugar, feeling good. Tricia passed Geoff the bag. He took out a marshmallow, and I took two.
"Two, really?" Geoff laughed. "It's like you're not even trying to stay in shape."
He said it in such an offhand way, as if it could be a compliment. "You don't even have to try." Everyone else laughed too.
"I do what I want," I joked, trying to play along.
I realized my mistake immediately. Geoff's arm tightened around my waist. He played it off--flowed right back into the conversation with everyone else--but his arm never loosened.
Later, everyone fell asleep and Geoff pulled me to my feet, saying we'd have more privacy further from the fire. I was nervous, but in love, and hoping to smooth things over. I was willing to give myself to him.
He spread our blanket out far from the shoreline, near a small copse of trees.
I started to lay down. "Come here," he said. He walked into the trees, not looking back, knowing I would follow him.
"You do what I tell you to," he whispered. He shoved me against a tree, and my head cracked on the trunk. I was expecting the blow that hit my lip, but I got lucky. After one swing, he turned and walked back to the blanket. I sank to my knees and wept. I vowed to leave him, that this would never happen again, but I was lying to myself.
I allowed myself only moments to wallow, to dash away the tears, then went to curl up beside him. His arm fell over me, not protectively, but in a display of dominance.
*This is your life now.*
And so it went on. My parents noticed the lump on the back of my head, and my fat lip, but I explained it as a skateboarding accident. Geoff was more careful after that. He learned to hurt me only where it wouldn't show.
My high school years were a nightmare. My grades suffered because I spent all my time with Geoff. His grades soared because I did his work for him. He made the football team, graduated, got into a decent college on a scholarship. I got a job at a diner and gave all my money to Geoff.
The summer after graduation--I'd barely squeaked through--Geoff was my world. I spent every moment I wasn't working at his house with him and his friends. I was the designated gofer, running to bring them drinks and snacks. Geoff's friends had grown used to his demanding tone over the last three years. They didn't flinch anymore when he shouted at me. Sometimes, they'd shout too.
One day I got off work early and let myself in to his house. I could hear the guys laughing and joking downstairs. Desperate to please him--I don't remember why, but he'd been furious with me about some perceived slight the night before, and I had the bruises to prove it--I set about making sandwiches and snacks, placing them prettily on a tray to carry down.
Mindy Slater was sitting on Geoff's lap. Her head turned as I reached the bottom of the stairs. "Oops," she said, giggling. Geoff turned to follow her gaze, and he stared at me.
I don't know what I expected. An apology? An offhand remark and a kiss? Something to explain it all away.
Geoff jumped up from his seat, dumping Mindy to the floor in an ungracious lump. He strode across the room toward me, an indecipherable expression on his face.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" he asked.
My hands, holding the tray, trembled. "I got off early," I stammered. "I wanted--"
The blow came from nowhere. I should have been safe, with his friends there, but I wasn't. I went flying backward, onto the stairs. The tray went flying too, and my offerings landed everywhere.
"I'm so fucking sick of you," Geoff said. "I was planning on leaving you when school starts, but why wait?"
He kicked me, hard, in my side. "Clean this shit up," he said. "And get out."
He walked back across the room and sat, pulling Mindy onto his lap.
"Dude," one of his friends said. But nothing more. And no one came to help me. By the time I'd finished picking up the spilled food, they were laughing again, playing some game on the Xbox.
I walked out and didn't look back.
That should have been the end of it, but I was devastated. Shattered. I sank into a deep depression, sleeping my days away, missing work, eventually losing my job. After a year, my parents got sick of my moping and kicked me out.
When Steven came along, I thought he was my saviour. Gentle and kind, he took me in, cleaned me up. Gave me food and a place to stay. I fell into a relationship with him not out of love, but out of necessity, and he knew it. He took full advantage of that knowledge. It was worse, with Steve. He didn't feel the need to leave my face unmarred. Where would I go anyway? Who would ever know? I was a prisoner in his house, held by my own shame and pride as surely as if he'd barred the doors.
Two years passed. | When my vision went from black to colors, I finally saw the people around me.
Tall and short, fat and skinny, black and white and red and yellow- it was as if every possible variety of human had been thrown into one room and given the same clothes, the same uniform, white and sterile and unfriendly. They were arrayed in a semi-circle, clutching sharp tools and needles, bloodied doctor’s masks wrapped about their faces. They were still, silent, as unmoving as the stones and as expressionless as the trees.
“Hello?” I asked, a realized that I was unarmed, half naked, and in someone else’s bed.
So I decided to forgo any more pleasantries.
“What the fuck?”
“This may be a little hard to take, Mr. Device,” said one of them, and her voice was a nurse’s voice: smooth and soft and pacifying. “But your memory is a lie.”
I tried to sit up, but pain frayed the edges of my vision, and I collapsed weak and sweating back onto the white sheets.
“The decision was made not to restrain you physically,” another doctor said, “as a result of your past… experiences.”
“Experiences- what do you mean, my memory is a lie?” They had worked my temper up a bit, or rather, I had... because confusion was the enemy of progress, and progress was my best friend.
A white light flared into life, crisp and clean, throwing little waves of luminescence off the bed sheets.
“Look. I may not have much money, but I have friends. Friends who don’t bother with little things like ‘rules’ or ‘laws’ or morality. So someone here had better tell me what’s going on, or said friends will take offence: I call them mister fist and mister foot, and they get all funny when they’re introduced to mister bone.”
One of the doctors raised an eyebrow. “Elaborate. But, Mister Device, we are your friends. And we very much doubt that someone in your physical condition could pose much of a threat to your comrades. Physically speaking, that is.”
“Have you seen me?” I managed a weak chuckle. “I spent years training with people who make Bruce Lee look like Barbie.”
“See yourself, Mister Device. We very much doubt you did.”
I looked down at myself, past a scrawny chest and belly, past a set of thighs that look like they had never supported any weight in their life. My feet were small and skinny, not the reassuring broadness I was used to. Also, I was white.
Wait a second.
I was white?
“What the hell did you do to me?”
They glanced at one another. Then nurse-voice stepped up again and began to speak, and for lack of a better option I began to listen.
“You volunteered, Mister Device.”
“That’s not my name.”
“Doctor Anthony Device, PhD in Advanced Cognitive Transference. You were a subject in your own experiment. Engineered to send you to the past by swapping your mind with the mind of another.”
New memories began to form, or perhaps they were old, memories of skyscrapers that towered impossibly high, cars that didn’t need wheels or a road. A family, lost by time, eroded by memory, a handful of friends. A girlfriend. All coming back to me, like birds returning to their summer home after a long and biting winter.
“You switched places with a man who fought in a war two hundred years ago. The mind that inhabited your body gained your memories, your impulses, your sense of self-identity, and your way of thinking: and then we put that mind into a comma, until your original one could come back.”
War. Yes, I remembered that. But it was like memories of a movie, a film, an external happening, not something personal. Blood, screams, bullets, gunfire. The harsh roar of planes and the hissing as metal cut through the jungle, the wet and the heat and the misery.
The death.
“I died. The person I inhabited,” I said, and realized how hard it was to say it, “died.”
“Exactly. And that is why you woke up. Back in your body. Your real body, with your real memories. Twenty years of memories are all a lie, I am afraid. But the rest, you will find, are utterly true.”
I was silent for a moment. “Why should I believe you?”
“Because we don’t have to explain all of this. Gradually, you would have come to the same conclusion. We just sped up the process.”
“Oh. So, assuming I do believe you… now what happens?”
Again, they glanced at one another, as if uncertain as to how to proceed.
“Up to you, Doctor. Though we are obligated to tell you something.”
“Yes?”
One of them stepped a few paces until she was standing over me, hair dangling down to tickle at my face.
“The war you fought in was called the Vietnam War, and it ended in the loss of countless lives. In five minutes, that war will have never existed. Neither will you.”
“What?”
“You died trying to protect a child, gunned down by a friend who thought you were an enemy. The way you fell was broadcasted internationally over thousands upon thousands of screens. The backlash against the warring forces was enough to end the war prematurely- a full six months before it would have.
“Temporal Theorists predict that this resulted in an alternate timeline being formed, the one that we currently inhabit- a one where your work, your existence, is unnecessary. We are not real, Doctor, just messages sent from the future. Cognitive beings who nonetheless have no ability to influence the world around them by physical action.”
As she said that, I realized I could no longer feel her hair against my face. An echo of it, like a memory, was the only thing that remained.
“You have five minutes in which your existence is protected by ours- as long as there are some who know of you, who know of your presence, you will continue to exist. If no one knows you are there, you will simply wink out of existence. Time will no longer have to account for your existence.
“So it’s up to you, Doctor. What do you want to do with the last five minutes of your life?”
I took a deep breath, and thought for a little bit.
“Do you have e-mail?”
She blinked.
“No. We have no need for one.”
“Well, get me some form of pseudo-instant messaging that I can access. Preferably video. We have work to do.”
“And that work, Doctor?”
“Making sure the world knows I exist.”
| 2016-06-28T06:50:40 | 2016-06-28T06:30:38 | 65 | 10 |
[WP] The year is 2000. Both sides are rejoicing at the turn of the millennium. World War One rages on, as it has for the past 86 years. | **Henry Moseley**
Born 23 November 1887
Died 10 August 1915
Killed in Action
Gallipoli
**Robert French**
Born 18 March 1894
Died 19 November 1916
Killed in Action
Somme
**Cecil Berners-Lee**
Born 23 September 1884
Died 9 February 1919
Killed in Action
Dogger Bank
**Rosalind Elsie Franklin**
Born 25 July 1920
Died 25 July 1920
Complications at Birth
London
**Alfred Lennon**
Born 14 December 1912
Died 13 December 1921
Starvation
Liverpool
**John Tolkien**
Born 3 January 1892
Died 9 December 1922
Pneumonia
Rehms
**Albert Einstein**
Born March 14, 1879
Died June 30, 1928
Died in French Bombing Raid
Berlin
**Kurt Gödel**
Born 28 April 1906
Died 22 February 1929
Killed in Action
Venice
**John Logie Baird**
Born 14 August 1888
Died 9 November 1928
Died in Munitions Plant Explosion
Clyde Valley
**Alan Turing**
Born 23 June 1912
Died 9 March 1930
Killed in Action
Hamburg
**Thomas Lawrence**
Born 16 August 1888
Died 19 May 1935
Executed
Jeddah | "Splendid, is it not, Will?"
His breath bounced off Will's face, and despite smelling like off brand tea and moldy crumpets, did something to keep the freezing cold away.
"I suppose.. shame we're out here in Ypres while the Majors back home shaggin' his wife."
The bearded man, George, chuckled.
"You better not tell 'im I said that, George."
"Nah, don't worry mate, I would never -
The sound of shouting in some foreign language would silence them both, as they lowered themselves deeper into their two-man foxhole.
The sound of snow under crinkling under boots got closer, as their guns aimed wildly around, until a figure with a dark steel helmet and a wool coif emerged, unarmed.
"Vait, vait! Don't zoot!"
"Truce!" Another person shouted, emerging from the fog.
"Ve brought a ball!"
"Christmas was days ago! Tradition is truce on the 25th, not the 1st! Plus, I gave that ball to you, Wilhelm!", George spoke.
"Ja, but its Ze new millennium! Zat is a truce too, ha?"
"Fair enough.", Will said. The two British soldiers climbed out of their foxhole and would play football with the German soldiers until nighttime. The end. | 2017-09-22T15:17:43 | 2017-09-22T13:57:10 | 125 | 87 |
[WP] How could humans be dangerous? This one's been crying in the corner since we captured it. | Caitlyn could hear the aliens arguing with each other. How she could hear in English, she had no idea. She was afraid, but not of the aliens. No, she was afraid because she was locked up again. Kidnapped. She knew what everyone said aliens did to people. She’d already been through that once, and now she was going to have to go through it all over again.
One of the aliens bent low to her. *This is it,* she thought. Violation. Force. Pain. Punishment. It was all too familiar. She sobbed meekly.
“We just want to ask you some questions,” the alien said, “can you do that for us? Can you tell us about yourself?” Caitlyn nodded. Anything, anything to keep it from happening again. The aliens sat down in front of her.
They asked her some general questions first. Questions about her age, where she lived, what she ate. They were so nice about it. Not like what you hear about aliens. Caitlyn felt herself starting to open up to them. Then, one of them asked it.
“What was it that made you like this?” He said, “Are all humans like this?” She knew they’d come to it. They seemed nice enough, so she told them. She told them everything.
She told them about being kidnapped by that maniac. She told them about being kept in a basement for months. She told them about all the...*things* he did to her down there. She showed them her scars. And she told then about the things he did to the others who weren’t as lucky as her. She made sure they understood why she was on the ground, crying and shaking and afraid.
As she talked, both of the aliens turned white as a sheet. No easy task for something green and scaly. After she finished, they both stood up and started arguing again. This time, she caught part of what one said.
“If they’re willing to do that to their own kind, think what they’ll do to us!” | You don't understand Dreagar, you ignorant fool. You could've endangered the entire galaxy!
Humans... An interesting creature, but one we should all head warning to. I've studied them for almost a millennium. I've seen them grow and adapt.
At first it was for research, to study the species to see if they would be a threat, if we could use them for anything or if we were just going to wipe them from this existence.
But they've grown out of our control... They recently found an old part of one of our science tools. It was barely anything left as it was just a release capsule made to destroy them with disease. They used the it have increased their rate of technology and research a thousand fold in a such a short time we couldn't fathom doing it ourselves.
We could use them as scientists if it wasn't for their nature. They are programed from within to win. To take control, to fight... All in the name of reproduction. We fear they would overthrow us, their captors.
We can't do a full scale assault. They would lose in most circumstances, but after they down some of our war machines and ships we fear they would quickly pass us. They would quickly find our weakness and maybe even pass us in technology.
This is why all approachment of the planet is forbidden! This is why you've made the grave mistake you've made! If you were caught... Oh we would've all perished. Consumed by the abyss that humanity would unleash on us all.
This is why you are sentenced to death, this is why the human was instantly vaporized.
This is why we fear, for all we can do is hope... Hope, that they will consume themselves before they find us. | 2018-02-17T08:49:55 | 2018-02-17T08:09:48 | 378 | 101 |
[WP] God created thousands of worlds in thousands of galaxies. A major crisis in another galaxy has taken his entire focus, and for the first time in 750 years, he just glanced in our direction.
This prompt has two possibilities. What has he been dealing with for the last 750 years elsewhere, or what his reaction is when he looks back at us.
Edit: didn't realize I missed the 1. It was supposed to be 1750 years ago, so basically everything since 250 A.D. Was done without him paying any attention.
Edit 2: but if anyone has anything over the last 750 years, I'd be happy to read it.
Edit 3: I love what you are all doing. Having a hard time finding the time to read all of the posts, but I'll get there eventually. Thanks for all of the responses!
Edit 3.1: it's really interesting to see everyone's response and see how it reflects what I imagine is their view of how we are doing as a global society. Keep them coming.
Edit 4: I never imagined this would blow up like this. Thank you so much for all of your responses. This has been amazing to read. I understand what people mean when they say RIP INBOX. | I leaned back in my office chair and stretched my arms high over my head. With a sigh of relief, I finally turned away from Earth-2294. In 250 A.D., the humans living there had managed to rediscover the Garden of Eden, and they had waged a siege on an epic proportion that had lasted almost two thousand years. It had taken every bit of my attention to keep them out, but when I make a rule, I keep that rule. Now, after all those years, I could finally check up on some of my other creations.
I swiveled in my office chair and faced Earth-1468. The first thing I noticed was the number of countries. On Earth-2294, there was no real nationality, just humans vs. angels. Earth-1468 had hundreds of countries. I sighed again, it was obvious I was going to have a lot of reading to catch up on before I could start guiding these humans.
I cracked open the first historical tome, starting from the moment the "Garden Crisis" started on Earth-2294. Suddenly, movement just outside of the atmosphere caught my eye. I looked at it closely, it was some sort of space station. But that was impossible, humans weren't supposed to go to space!! It's impossibly cold, and there's no oxygen. It's why I use the cold emptiness of space to separate my planets, humans could never survive outside the atmosphere. Yet here they were, just floating around like it was normal. I sat back in my chair stunned. And I smiled. After all those years of war, I'd forgotten how much I liked humans. It was time to reward these enterprising little people. I zoomed out so I could see the entire milky way. And there it was, the tiny little telescope trying to take pictures of the bigger universe. I subtly pointed it to a seemingly empty space of the cosmos. And the telescope took pictures of a far distant planet, where all humans had been wiped out. And where they would find a peaceful garden at the center of a massive battle. | "Oh, holy me. I give these fuckers my son, tell them to be excellent to each other, and this kind of shit happens?"
God sighed. He was tired.
The mind-reading and telekinesis on Planet Thesallon had proven to be a mistake, right up until the moment the last species had murder/suicided its last members. But at least there was a point to all that.
These earthlings, on the other hand, had every advantage. Every possible example he could think of. *And* he gave them free will. Still, they fucked it up.
"Where the hell am I supposed to start?" He thought. "There's war in the ancient lands. War in the new lands, too. There's war everywhere. What part of 'Thou shall not kill' do these assholes not get?"
One of the team leaders he'd left behind -- was his name Paul or Peter? -- was supposed to meet him, give him the rundown. But the mountaintop was empty.
It was cold, too.
He heard the thwap-thwap before he saw the helicopter approaching. Inside was Paul, that asshole. The past 1750 years passed through God's mind in an instant.
"That fucker," he thought. "The letter to those poor bastards at Corinth was quite enough. But did he need to send that shit to the Romans? Or the Phillipians? What was all that about?"
God knew, of course, what all that was about. His message had been all about love and tolerance and hope. That's why he sent his son.
But Paul didn't do love very well. Or tolerance, or hope.
Paul recognized pretty early that creating enemies was the easiest way to unite people. And with Jesus dead and God gone, there was nobody to stop him.
Until now.
| 2015-12-27T10:49:08 | 2015-12-27T10:43:54 | 791 | 21 |
[WP] Your bedroom became detached from reality and nothing is outside your door, but whenever you load a video game that world appears. Your game library is not conducive to a long and happy life, but the mini fridge is empty so you have no choice. You load up the safest game and gather supplies. | I reached for another mini sandwich, but my hand met nothing. *Shit* I knew what had to happen now. I had survived the last week off of sparkling water, sandwiches, and chips. But the time had come for me to venture outside. There was no longer any avoiding it.
A week ago, instead of the normal greeting my roommate’s cat gave me when I walked out to make breakfast, I was greeted with absolute nothingness. There wasn’t even a bottom for the coin I tossed to land on. Just complete nothingness. My three saving graces were the mini fridge I bought so I could avoid any and all interaction with my roommate (Yes, she really is that bad), the fact that I had my own bathroom, and my laptop. However, I quickly learned that whenever I played games, not only could I go out in to the world, the world could come in for me. So I spent most of my time with my laptop turned off for my own safety.
But today, I had no choice unless I wanted to starve to death. I had to go outside. I *really* wish I had bought The Sims again (left my hard copy at a friends years ago because they liked it more than I did). This would be a much easier decision to make. But I no longer had any internet connection, so buying it now was out of the question.
After much consideration, I settled on The Witcher 3. If all the options, that one seemed the best for normal people. Bethesda games really depended on the main character not wanting to kill every non-essential character that existed (and even the best series for a normal person to live in, Fallout, was riddled with radiation.), dungeon crawlers sounded like straight hell, racing games were devoid of any actual resources (but I will admit. They did sound fun to try out later on.), and for some reason, Detroit wouldn’t work anymore. But in the Witcher, all you had to do was stay in the villages, find a role you could fill, travel in groups, and not bother the Griffins. Plus, I was handy with a bow, so I could probably be a hunter or something. So I grabbed my hunting and camping supplies from my closet, opened the door, and prepared for a new life as a hunter.
Only to be attacked by a fucking griffin right out the gate. God, I’m going to hate it here. | I picked Skyrim, when the alternatives are the Flood, Zombies, or Demons; dragons, bears, and trolls don't seem so bad. Bad shit only happens when the dragon born is around anyways, so I avoided him like he was the plague mixed with AIDs.
Before I stepped through the door though, I had to wrack my brain for the safest part of Skyrim, I remember reading somewhere that the dragon born doesn't need to visit Dawnstar for the main quest, so I went with Dawnstar.
I got a job from some NPC to work the farm, they had some questions about my clothes. I just told them I'm from Cyrodil and trying to make a new life, I think they bought it because they didn't ask more questions, and gave me the job.
I make 16 gold an hour to till the fields grind wheat, which is enough to keep me stocked on bread, cheese, and milk. I work for 3 weeks at a time, buy 3 months of food and water, and then hide away in my room until supplies are exhausted, then I go back to work. I wish I could say I was smart, or observant, or talented, but I've got no fuckin idea why this happened, so I'm just gonna try to not die for a while.
It's been going well so far though, it's been almost 2 years by my count, and I'm still surviving, thriving even, the hard work has me in better shape than I've ever been, and I finally had time to actually play my video games, which has been nice. With the capitalist hellscape I was in back home, I struggled to make ends meet, I had rent, utilities, insurance, car payments and now I can be free.
It's ironic really, I thought life was going to be awful with the new setup, but it's never been so easy for me before. I even have Wi-Fi so I've been thinking about experimenting with mods. | 2022-06-07T18:06:20 | 2022-06-07T16:05:43 | 312 | 167 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell, we're the demons, and you've just been summoned. | “I have summoned and bound you, demon! You will listen and obey.”
“Uh, sure. Whatever you say, boss.” Michael tried to make out some features of whatever was talking but it was obscured by a dark, heavy robe complete with a hood. “I do whatcha ask and then you send me back. You’ll send me home, right?”
“I am the master here! I will say when you go.”
“Well that’s not fair. Not fair at all. I was just sitting, drinking a beer after work and poof. I’m here. I didn’t know I could even poof. And hell, you didn’t even poof my beer. I would appreciate a beer after being poofed.”
“You will spoke when spoken to!”
“Ah, to hell with this.” Michael took a step but hit something that felt like cling wrap pulled off leftovers heated in a microwave. It was uncomfortably warm but not hot enough to burn.
“My wards bind you! I am the master here. I am your master.”
“I said, to hell with this!” He dropped his shoulder, braced and pushed forward. The cling wrap stuck to him but it snapped in a moment. He grabbed the robed figure by the collar and picked it up, a little shocked by how light it was.
“The wards. The books said they’d work. The wards, they can’t be broken. The wards...”
“Knock it off,” Michael roared. He pulled its hood down. “Well, you ain’t nothing but I child. I mean, you an ugly child, but just a child.”
“I am no such thing. I am Olassin, head of House Olazuim, the third of his name. I have ruled for two decades and brought my house fortune and fame.”
“Forturne and fame huh?” Michael sniggered. “You think I’m a demon. And moreso, you meant to bring me here. Folks doing well don’t need to seek out demons.”
Olassin shuffled its feet. It opened its mouth and then closed it again, dropping its gaze to the floor.
“That’s what I thought.” Michael put the little child-man down and asked, “You can poof me back here any time, right?”
Olassin nodded.
Michael let out a long, exaggerated sigh. “I’m going to fix your problem, whatever it is, and in return, you send me home and never poof me again. Agreed?”
Olassin nodded, a grin suddenly on its face.
“But first, you gonna poof my beer for me. I’m gonna need it to get through this crap.”
edit: typo | The room's runes glowed with such warding powers that the candles only served the purpose of spell ingredients. I paused the game, I was already at a pay point anyway having died multiple times because I needed the sword of Amecles to kill Hexigron and $3.99 was not in today's budget.
I made a step backwards in shock only to be thrown forward, a second bump on my forehead threw me back. I noticed the chaos symbol on the ceiling, it was surrounded by two vipers swallowing each others tails to make a circle.
The sound of louboutin's coming down announced her arrival, her skin almost radiated with her beauty. Enticing beauty, an attractiveness that seduced and corrupted all that stared at it for too long, the kind that would tempt a man to eat an apple he'd specifically been told not to by someone who could create galaxies.
"Victoorrrr...." she purred out. A finger ran across my shoulders, then down my spine.
"What do you want Lucy?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"Not yet anyway, today I want to give you something."
"I'm not interested in what you're selling."
"Oh I'm sure you are, and would you turn around who gets summoned facing the wrong way?"
I spun to face an altar in front of it was a silver throne cast in the image of men kneeling. Lucy sat on the back of one, the armrests being the arms of two men standing.
"You're sure you wouldn't be interested in anything I have to offer?"
"I'm sure."
"Not even this?" she lifted up a small test tube, it glowed bright blue, the faces on her throne shifted their gaze as she waved it in the air. Even they knew what she held.
My mouth hung open. I could feel the essence calling me, pleading it needed to be back home. She flung it to the floor and as it shattered it made it's way to me. My lungs filled with life, cloudy eyesight cleared and my heart raced faster as she waved her hands and I found my self back in my apartment. The doorway to heaven started to form. At last my ascendance.
As I soaked it all in my back stiffened. She gave me something she knew I couldn't pay for. She was trying to get more than a favor from me. She was trying to earn loyalty. She would have to come calling some day. What scared Lucifer so badly she needed to make allies?
***
You can read more of my stories at /r/pagefighter.
| 2017-05-12T08:18:29 | 2017-05-12T07:44:27 | 617 | 81 |
[WP] Everyone is given a prophecy at the instant of their birth. For most people, it is a short, cryptic sentence. Kings and Presidents often get a whole paragraph. Your daughter is four days old, and the Oracle is still scribbling furiously. | Dear Anna,
If you’re reading this, the two of us didn’t make it to your twenty-first birthday. Hope you had a great party with your friends, and that you’re enjoying college, wherever you are.
That being said, if you’re with anyone, please read this alone. Don’t share this with your girlfriend, or your classmates, or even the lawyer managing our will. In time, you can show this to the people you trust intimately, but for now, this should remain a family matter.
Because we lied to you about your prophecy.
A decade-old letter is a pretty awful way to apologize to someone. Honestly, we wish we didn’t have to write this in the first place, but if you’re reading this, the worst has happened, and we didn’t have a choice. Words can’t express how sorry we are, and it’s your right to be angry with us. But maybe this message can explain our motivations a little.
You remember Oedipus, don’t you? High School English was never your favorite subject, but I’m sure you remember the basics. He tried to stop the effects of his grim prophecy, but that only made them come true. It happened to all the Greek heroes with terrible fates. Knowing the future only made it worse.
We told you your prophecy was like that. Short and cryptic and identical to ninety-nine point nine percent of the world’s population. Something that would only make life miserable, were you to read it, that condemned you to a dull, unremarkable future or a cruel future. We locked The Oracle’s missive away behind contracts and safety-deposit boxes, like most parents. But we weren’t afraid of early suicide.
Your prophecy wasn’t short. It didn’t consist of just a single sentence. In its entirety, it contains fifty-eight thousand, four hundred, and twenty-three words. The local Oracle at the hospital wrote nonstop for four straight days. If you’ll remember, the current president of the United States got about three hundred words. The wealthiest man in the world has about twice that much. The most powerful people in the world have only a fraction of your influence.
Most parents would be overjoyed that their child was destined for greatness. But when we were born, our prophecies were long too. Two thousand and thirty-seven words each. Identical to one another. Not exactly what you'd expect for a middle-class couple in the suburbs. We were thrilled when we each found out, and even more thrilled when we met each other and exchanged them. We were the opposite of Oedipus. We tried making our prophecies come true.
But the Gods, or demons, or whoever decides our fates, are unimaginably cruel. The files enclosed with this letter should tell you everything you need to know, but rest assured, if you’re reading this, some terrible things happened to us. It turns out “*drowning in joy*“ has a lot of different interpretations.
Don’t feel bad for us. Whatever nightmares happened to us in the last decade, we’re not in pain anymore. We wanted you safe from all that, at least for your childhood. But you're going to have to face it, just like we did. It’s up to you now.
We’ve done everything we can to prepare you for this eventuality. You’ve been taught philosophy, politics, and quantum mechanics. You understand morality on the scale of individuals and nations. You’ve grown up to be a kind, determined, intelligent young women. We’re so proud of you, and we love you so much. May you succeed at turning back the inevitable where we failed.
Your prophecy is enclosed below. Most of it is vague and confusing, and makes very little sense to us now, but the first line is as clear as day.
*The Oracles write the words of fate, but she can make revisions.*
Love,
Mom and Dad | "Please, just a glance, Scribe."
She waved her hand at me, shooing me from her desk. The baby cried, my wife rocked her slowly in her arms and hummed gently. The scribe's apprentice ran in with a fresh bottle of ink and set it and a small stack of parchment on the desk. It was tradition that only the four of us be allowed to enter and exit the room, but not law, and I could hear the murmurs outside the room getting louder.
I stepped out, plucking an old cigarette out of my pocket and lighting it hastily. The hallway was crowded with journalists and religious figures curious as to the outcome of my daughter's unlikely and inexplicable prophecy. I was a machinist, my wife a baker. Utterly unremarkable people completely unprepared for whatever was happening.
"Excuse me, Mr. Hightower? A quick word, please"
I looked up from the ground, following a shined pair of shoes up an immaculately dressed body to the familiar face of the Archpriest. He smiled and extended his wrinkled hand to me, it was covered in small bits of tech, mostly strength enhancements it seemed. He was old, and his teeth were yellowing, the ones that weren't gold capped at least. I quickly shook his hand, nodded, and followed him down the hallway to a small office that his guards were standing outside of.
"Some week, eh. Mr. Hightower?"
"That's fair to say, sir."
The Archpriest cackled.
"I don't take it your abundantly religious, Mr. Hightower. I won't bother you with a sermon or florid words about faith and destiny"
"That's appreciated, sir."
"All I ask for is you consider, not even choose yet, but consider handing over the child to me and the church. You could still visit of course, and I know you'll want to discuss this with your wife, but be assured I won't be the first to ask. The others might not be as, polite, with their requests"
From a briefcase, he pulled out a small contract. On the front page was a monetary promise, one which comprised more money than I could ever conceivably make in two lifetimes. He smiled, and the dim light from the desk lamp made his gold teeth sparkle. From the other room, I could still hear the child crying. My child crying.
"If you'll excuse me, sir."
Thoughts danced through my head. It was already hard enough raising a child in the hinterlands, especially in these times. What if the child was some kind of savior? Certainly the church could support her better. Could she ever overcome the inevitable curiosity and scrutiny about whatever the scribe had put to paper? I hadn't been ready to be a father when Jane got pregnant, and I wasn't certain I was ready to be one now. I clutched the contract in my hand and stepped back towards the room with my wife and daughter. The journalists were shoving recording devices and the floatcams were snapping pictures, but I ignored them. I gently knocked on the door to the room, slowly opening it and peeking in.
"Well. There's daddy. See? Told you he would come back."
My wife smiled and looked up at me, and then back at our daughter. I closed the door slowly behind me, looking over as the scribe finished another page. She snorted out "Half done", her apprentice hanging his head and exhaling. It was quiet in here, and peaceful. I sat down next to my wife on the bed, and looked down at my daughter. I put the contract down on the side table and put my arm around my wife. For now, there was stillness. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. | 2017-12-30T17:48:41 | 2017-12-30T17:44:05 | 286 | 25 |
[WP] Write a short story where the first sentence has 20 words, 2nd sentence has 19, 3rd has 18 etc. Story ends with a single word.
[CW] Write a short story where the first sentence has 20 words, 2nd sentence has 19, 3rd has 18 etc. Story ends with a single word | The rain ran in rivulets along the window, a barrage of droplets chasing each other downwards in fits and starts. Baxter smiled and turned his head, eager to show the old man, but he was asleep by the fire.
There wasn't really much surprise there, of course; the old man didn't do anything *but* sleep these days. His bark was soft and weak, barely capable of calling the humans in from the next room. The proud black hairs that surrounded his muzzle had dulled to an anaemic grey long ago. When he walked, his back leg dragged behind him; the humans pretended not to notice. Even if he *had* been interested, reaching the window would have been almost impossible.
Baxter pawed the glass, wondering how the rain would feel on his fur. Cool, no doubt -- cool and refreshing, even with the winter's chill. *That would get the old man excited for sure,* Baxter thought. *No time for sleeping when there are puddles to enjoy.*
After one last look outside, he pulled himself away. The puppy crossed over to the old man. With a spin, he lowered himself down.
*In the summer*, Baxter thought happily. *We'll play in the summer. There's plenty of time.*
His eyes drooped.
They slept.
Together.
_____
If you liked this story, you can find more over at /r/Portarossa. | The brand of cough syrup John bought was not right, not for dulling down the day to a drooling stupor. Fun intoxicants were there no doubt, but so were other toxic chemicals that could quite easliy corrode the liver. Down the hatch it went, and have you ever felt a gust of wind smack with extra force? That is John's caution, carried away as he too drifts on toward a dimmer, more complacent place. A dab of drool dances down his slackened chin, a slow retarded walz of ignored spittle. Eyes glaze with shadow of ignorant bliss flick once, twice, and thrice to stay. What a distant good feeling world he is in with all numbnees ahh. Some guy is on his bed and he looks tired or dead. Not a problem for John as John is super good now. Like so nice and where is his pillow, under head? Ah and uh so he's in clouds and sleep. On to somethin how dreams awake but deep. That worked, he love cough syrup. Thick and gross it help. Pain gone, so long. The selfless song. I mumble. Farewell. | 2017-01-14T18:21:32 | 2017-01-14T14:18:10 | 159 | 24 |
[WP] You are an unimportant background character in Hogwarts. It's Harry Potter's third year and while he is off dealing with dementors and the imminent threat of Sirius Black, noone else seems to notice that Dumbledore has been replaced by a completely different old man except for you. | "I swear to you, I'm not making this up!" My friends stared at me silently, expressions ranging from skeptical to amused.
"So you seriously think the professor has been replaced by someone else?" Fay asked, a smirk ghosted on her face.
"How can you not? He's clearly a different person! Just look at him!" We all glanced over the piles of food on the Gryffindor table and watched our headmaster survey the students from his position at the sand of the great hall.
"I don't know," Seamus mused, "He looks the same to me. He's got the beard and the glasses..."
"Of course he's got those," I replied, "But his face is different. Look closely."
My friends stared at me blankly. "Fine!" I said, "If you lot won't believe me, I'll have to prove it myself!" I stormed off before they could say anything.
Later that day, right after Divination, I casually made my way down to Dumbledore's office, or at least where I heard his office was on the third floor. All I could see was a stone gargoyle, which I figured his some sort of secret passage. Unfortunately, I had no idea what the password was. I paced around for a bit in front of the gargoyle, trying to figure out what it could be, when the statue began to move. My heart skipped a beat when I saw the shiny robes of the not-Dumbledore. It suddenly occurred to me that I had not exactly planned what I would do when I saw him. My feet froze in place on the ground, and I wasn't sure if it was because of nerves or some sort of petrification spell. Regardless, I stared in horror as the not-Dumbledore approached me.
It seems that the foot freezing was indeed the work of my own nerves, as I felt myself move at the request of the imposter. I followed him numbly into the office and took a seat in the overstuffed chair across from the desk. I stared at not-Dumbledore, my mouth hanging open like a banshee. It finally registered that he had said my name a few times.
"I'm sorry, sir?" I finally said with a shake of my head.
"I said, how are you enjoying your year at Hogwarts so far?"
"Um, fine, I guess." I wasn't sure how to play this, or even if the not-Dumbledore knew I was on to him.
"I think it would be best if we let go of the niceties and get to business. I know you suspect me of something." Well, that answered that question. I figured it wouldn't hurt to play dumb for a while longer.
"I don't know what you mean, Professor."
"You know that there's something different about me. You were talking about it with your friends this morning during breakfast."
So much for playing dumb. "How did you know that?"
"We have quite a few eyes working for us around Hogwarts. Several other locations as well, but we needn't get into detail about it."
"We?"
"Ah, yes. We. I would like you to meet a colleague of mine." The not-Dumbledore gestured towards a corner of the office and a man I hadn't noticed before stepped out of the shadows. He was an unassuming man, albeit a bit scruffy, but not someone I would be able to pick out from a crowd. Notably, however, he was not dressed in the robes that wizards normally wore, but in a simple buttoned shirt seen on muggles.
"I am Alfonso Cuarón," he said, holding out his hand to shake. He had an accent, perhaps Mexican. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss..."
"Brown," I replied, gripping his hand, "Lavender Brown."
"Ah, Miss Brown. Please," he said helping me to my feet, "Come with us. All will be revealed soon enough."
Edit:Thanks for the gold!
| "It's *Dumbledore*, mate," Anthony said through a spoonful of oatmeal. "He's always doing weird things like this. Remember that time he wore a Muggle military uniform for a month because he wanted to understand whether the camouflage was more effective than an invisibility cloak? Remember how he used to stand in the hallway and wait to see if anyone noticed him, and we all pretended to not see him?"
Sam was too busy watching the headmaster out of the corner of his eye to even touch his own breakfast, and his eggs were getting cold. "Yeah, maybe," he answered, having not really paid much attention to what his friend had actually said. "But it's not even that he *looks* different. He *sounds* different too. I tell you, that's *not* Dumbledore."
The other Hufflepuff 5th years were all on Anthony's side. "People change their appearance all the time," Amanda chimed in, ruffling her fingers through her neon blue hair for emphasis. "And changing your voice isn't a very difficult Charm either." Others murmured in agreement; they'd all learned how to do it last year in class with Professor Flitwick. "He probably just wanted a new look after all these years."
"Well that's what everyone said when Quirrel the Squirrel started wearing that turban, too." Sam shot back, referencing their slightly loony former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. "And look how *that* turned out."
The others rolled their eyes, but didn't really have a good response to that. They had all been pretty dumbfounded to learn that the most evil wizard the world had ever known had been *in the classroom* as they learned to defend themselves from dark magic. But even Dumbledore hadn't known about it, and he knew *everything*.
"Just relax," Amanda tried to persuade Sam. "With all this Sirius Black nonsense, we've got enough to worry about. And I'm sure that the Gryffindor boy scouts will figure it out if anything is amiss." They all chuckled and glanced over to the table under red and gold banners, where Harry Potter was sitting with that redheaded friend of his, and the mousy girl with them was nearly buried under a mountain of books. Those three had developed quite a reputation for poking their noses into everyone's business, including the Headmaster.
"Well maybe they're on to something," Sam continued to argue. "I mean, they did stop He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, right? And that basilisk that was turning people to stone?"
The other Hufflepuffs all traded frustrated looks. Clearly Sam wasn't going to drop this crazy obsession of his and leave Dumbledore alone. "How about we ask Professor Sprout?" Anthony suggested. "She's friends with Dumbledore; she'll know what's going on." The others all smiled, happy to have finally found a valid solution.
"Yeah, all right," Sam conceded, turning back to his now-cold breakfast with a look of disappointment. The other Hufflepuffs went back to their conversations about classes and Quidditch and whatnot, instantly forgetting about the problem. But Sam shot one last look at the headmaster over at the head table. He was currently levitating his orange juice with a goofy smile under his beard, just like Dumbledore would probably do. But Sam could still tell something was off, and he wasn't going to wait for the Gryffindors to figure that out too.
----
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| 2016-07-07T09:49:02 | 2016-07-07T09:02:03 | 1,003 | 438 |
[WP] The year is 2125, the first 'World Law' passes. It reads... | **1. Don't be a douchebag.**
You don't *have* to be nice, but there's no excuse for being a tool.
**2. Work, dammit.**
Find a way to contribute to society; if you only like music educate yourself about music or make music--or teach others how to play or understand specific genres of music. If you like staying home and being lazy all day, be the best lazy person you can be--break it into a science so others can follow you into Nirvana, there's no excuse for not putting in your effort--so long as it's not being a douchebag.
**3. Shut up, no one cares what you think**
It's cool that you've got a philosophy/religion/worldview/etc. Now keep it to yourself. Get back to work. | 1. No one shall do any violence except in defense of one self or another
2. No one shall be physically punished for any crime that does not physically harm another, nor incarcerated for any crime not involving threat of violence
3. Every one shall be free to express themselves however they choose provided it does not violate the first 2 rules, or lead others to do the same.
4. Every one may move freely about the earth as they please.
5. In matters regarding health and property, each territory shall set their regulations by majority vote of all adults.
6. No law or regulation may violate these first 5. | 2015-03-18T16:00:30 | 2015-03-18T14:02:02 | 22 | 12 |
[WP] When the aliens conquered Earth, they exterminated the populace but left you alive for some reason. You’ve spent years in captivity, wondering why they’ve chosen to keep you alive. One day, you are approached by the high commander and the answer is revealed. | An incongruous aphid entered my cell chamber. It dropped plate of low calorie sludge on the ground. I rushed to the food; my shackles scrapped against the dirt floor.
The aphid waited at the front of the cell and watched me eat. The creature stood over 8 feet tall. Talons the size of kitchen knives laws extended from its hands and feet. Its head resembled a mix of a mantis and a spitting dinosaur. Loose skin draped between its arms and midline — wings, I believe.
The creature held an energy dependent weapon that looked like an alien rifle from the game *Halo*. About a week ago, the creature fired the device at my cellmate for no reason. He was sitting in the corner of our walk in closet size room waiting for our sludge meal when the alien walked in and discharged the firearm without warning. My cellmate screamed in misery when the beam struck him and turned his insides outward. Though I was spared, I screamed as well.
I finished mopping my tongue across the plate. The aphid tossed a gadget that looked like modified noise cancelling headphones next to my feet. The creature spoke to me with a series of crackle and clicks that sounded like a wad of aluminum foil burning in a fire. It couldn’t interrupt the sound it made, but I understood its command.
I put the headphones on.
“We’ve studied your kind since the first day of the invasion four years ago,” the creature said. It still made the unpleasant sound, but the headphones translated the language into English. “We’ve read your books, viewed your films, listened to recordings from the past decade in order to understand the personality human race. Art, I believe is its name.”
The creature sat in silence. Was I supposed to reply? I swallowed and cleared my throat.
“I hope you know that a lot of what you consumed was something we call fiction*,* as in, it’s all fake.”
“Yes, we figured that out on our first day of research,” it said. “We determined that your race excels in imaginary science, but more often failed to create a peaceful result depicted in the arts. We noticed a high amount of humans often glorified the actions of a fictitious villain.”
“Those stories were made to teach people that the villains were wrong, and selfish decisions often come with consequences,” I said.
“We resolved the stories became more of a blueprint for ones gains.”
I didn’t respond. War of the Worlds, Independence Day, Chrono Trigger…I’m guessed the aphids ignored the stories that involved alien invasions.
“We then turned our studies towards biology,” the aphid said. “We were curious on the how and why people did what they did.”
“It’s all dictated by neurochemicals and hormones,” I said. “Any college anatomy textbook could have told you that.”
“Correct. That is the *how*, but we still understand get the *why*,” it said. “So we started experimenting and operating on humans. We wanted to take a look ‘under the hood’ as your kind have once said.”
Have once said? Why did it use the past tense?
The aphid continued. “We utilized our technology and knowledge and figured out the why for every mental and physical illness. Cancer, depression, multiple personality disorder, dementia…We even discovered thousands of diseases during our examinations.”
I tried to turn my mind blank at how their experiments could have been administered but failed. If their firearms everted ones internals, how gruesome could their scientific procedures be?
I fell to my knees and broke down in tears. The creature watched what ever soul I had left flee my body.
“So what are you going to do to me?” I managed to ask between sobs.
“You’re already going through our last experiment.” The aphid said. It walked out of my cell and shut its door.
“Survivor’s remorse.” | Pacing back and forth in your cell. Cage? Container? Prison?
You're not even sure if you ever left the ship. It leveled the city you were in, and everything else as far you know. You see the city burning every night when you sleep. Has it been months? Years?
<Hello again Sam, how're you today?>
The voice entered your head, but you never saw an alien.
"What are my activities today?" You call out to no one. Where you are being held changes constantly. Today it looks like the ship. That always means they are up to something.
You've been in sand, snow, grass, rocks, water, hot, cold, moist, dry. It's seems like they are testing your limits. You won't let them break you. You've gotten good at running and body weight exercises. Honestly the worst time was however long you were in a featureless sterile room. The only respite was the voice entering your head.
"Well?" You call out. You decideed that you win their game. Like playing a bad reality show. Space Survivor, staring Sam.
<We would like your help.>
"Haha, what? My help? What could you possibly need my help for? You can travel all the way to Earth from I don't know where, and wipe it out. What can I Sam do for you?"
<We would like to extract cells from you. We will use them to create a hybrid between our species.>
"There were plenty of humans on Earth before you killed them all. Also, you weren't big on consent before killing them, you just went and did that."
<Sorry, in more ways than one humans are like a virus. You kill everything around you. For the safety of life in the galaxy you had to be stopped before you spread.>
<Like a virus humans are very adaptive. Every environment we simulated you survived and thrived. Or would thrive with just a small amount of help. Most planets with life are one environment. Your hottest summers, or coldest winters. Some planets are tidally locked, so life can just exist in the twilight.>
<But humans can adapt to almost anywhere naturally. Unique on your Earth which is pretty unique as it is. Your DNA can ensure that species from all over the galaxy don't die off when their star or planet dies.>
"Well, what if I say no?"
<That would be a pity.>
"What do I get if I say yes?"
<Besides the knowledge that you saved trillions of lives in the galaxy?>
"Yes, besides that."
<To live out the rest of your days anywhere in the galaxy.>
"Okay, I'll do it." You did it. You won your game against them.
<Thank you Sam. I'll be coming in and I will brush you. The skin samples that stay on the brush are all we'll need.>
After the Commander came in and took a sample. You had free access around the ship. They asked for samples almost everyday you were on the ship, as they were showing you planets and species you could stay with. One day after you made your choice, the moon of a ringed gas giant in a binary star system. You saw all your samples. There had to be more than one from every exercise. You, Sam the last human had thought you had outlasted them. But they were collecting you the whole time. You lost the game. | 2021-01-10T06:54:07 | 2021-01-10T04:15:19 | 1,652 | 495 |
[WP] A doctor waging the war on cancer dies with (surgical) blade in hand. Somehow his spirit enters Valhalla. | "This is a mistake, I'm not supposed to be here!"
"Well" Odin said in his deep booming voice, "You died fighting a powerful enemy with blade in hand, that gets you into Valhalla."
"But I never even believed in any of this!"
"That doesn't matter, besides, why should you complain, you get to fight all day and feast all night and the Valkyries will attend to your every need."
"This... this just wasn't what I was expecting"
"Well you will be in good company, you will be revered as a hero here."
"I'm no hero, I didn't die in battle, I had a heart attack while performing surgery!"
"Don't be so modest, this place is for those who fought and slayed the unjust, and what enemy is more unjust than cancer?"
Odin began speaking with excitement, as if even a god were in awe of this mere mortal.
"The most unjust enemy, it kills at random, it slowly and painfully tortures it's victims, and you fought it through hours upon hours in the operating room, and not for the first time! You died a greater hero than many a viking warrior, now you have a place at the table of heroes, now drink your mead and revel in the company of those who fought the good fight!"
Odin put his hand on my shoulder and directed me to a table in his great hall. My eyes widened in wonder as I saw who was seated there. Faces I only knew from pictures in the history books, Hippocrates, Louis Pasteur, Jonas Salk and every other doctor who had saved countless human lives throughout history.
"Behold, the table of true heroes!" Odin proclaimed. Now take your place among them!
Edit: Thanks for the gold kind stranger! I had no idea this story would get so much support, my mind is thoroughly blown. | "There must be some mistake... I...I." The doctor muttered
"Are you not the one known as Kenneth Anderson son of Grant Anderson?" The man in Cherokee headdress asked with a fierce expression.
"I am but..."
"Is it not true that 23 men have fallen under your blade?"
"I wasn't trying to..."
"Ha, not even here five minutes and this whelp already bragging. What is it ya slay these men in your sleep." said a very large blond man with a braided beard.
"Thats not... I was trying to save..."
"Its okay now, I too fought bravely to save my village but the white man used cowards weapons and attacked at night." The chief said as his fierce expression changed to one of understanding.
"Oh here we go with this again." The viking perched in. "Don't blame my descendants because you weren't strong enough to accomplish your goals."
The chief smirked "Tough talk from a man who had my spear through his eye yesterday."
"Ooohhhh sounds like a challenge if I ever heard one." The blond man said lifting his Axe.
and with that two men gleefully attacked one another. As the hall around the doctor descended into a battlefield the doctor approached what appeared to be a wounded Roman Legionnaire it seems some type of foreign projectile was protruding from his gut. Before he realized it a medical kit was in his hands. The doctor simply shrugged at least now he had all of eternity to practice his craft.
| 2014-08-22T21:28:26 | 2014-08-22T21:23:55 | 690 | 127 |
[WP] You are a superhero without powers. You know a good bit about martial arts and you're resourceful, but the main reason you're so successful? Every time a villain monologues their plan, you calmly and clearly explain to them why their plan won't work. | “Search him. Put all his weapons on the table.”
There was a flurry of activity as the spiderfolk poked and prodded at the white and black robes. A large leather tome flew onto the table, moving it at least three inches as it landed with a thud. A string of beads soon clattered after it.
“All clear, boss.”
Doctor Arachnior clasped together his hands and stamped his six feet in delight. “The Titanic Thomist, scourge of evil, finally entangled in the web of my genius! Have you anything to say for yourself, you pathetic little fly?”
“No, I’m quite thoroughly defeated. What happens now?”
“I’m glad you asked! As you know, soon my decogitator will finish charging. When it is activated, all men around the planet—except for myself and my minions—will become as stupid as worms! Even you, Titanic Thomist, with all your brilliance, will become as dumb as an ox!”
The Thomist smiled in spite of himself. “That much I already knew. But what happens after that?”
“Isn’t it obvious? Then I shall be free to rob every bank, plunder every vault, pilfer every jewel! I shall become the richest bug on earth and live like a god for the rest of my life!”
“Ah, I thought it was something like that. I see two problems, though.”
“What problems?! I’ve already won, you insufferable blowhard!”
“Well, do you want to hear the small problem first, or the big one?”
The doctor shook his head and sighed indulgently. “A pathetic attempt to distract me, Thomist. But since my victory is so complete, I’ll humour you. The small problem.”
“Well, what good is all the money in the world when all the men are too stupid to want to trade with you?”
“Ha! That’s simple! It—I would—hmm. Hmm. Hrmm! I see...you know, I was planning to buy out this nice resort in the Bahamas. But with no one to serve me...and the spiderfolk make terrible margaritas...oh dear.”
Dr. Arachnior simply stared at his archnemesis for about five minutes. Then, his head hanging low, he skittered over to the control panel, pulled on a switch, and the machine powered down.
“You know, all of my life savings went into that decogitator...oh, you said there was a second problem? May as well hear it too.”
“That one is a bit harder to explain...you’re aiming too low.”
“Too low?! I was going to rob the entire planet. What are you talking about?”
“Well, all of your schemes are about getting more money. But money is really one of the lowliest goods there are.”
“Thomist, you’re as stupid as you are ugly. Everyone wants money. What could be more valuable than it?”
“Open that book you took from me to the page with a bookmark sticking out.”
Dr. Arachnior crept over to the table where the Titanic Thomist’s confiscated weapons lay. Batting away the beads, he glanced at the cover: *Summa Theologiae*. With an exasperated sigh, he turned to the marked page, and began to mutter to himself as he read:
“Whether happiness consists in wealth...mm...natural wealth and artificial...hmm...only sought for the sake of something else, that’s true...the more you have the less satisfied, yeah...and of course you can’t take it with you. You know, Dr. Dominator thinks I’ll probably develop cancer in a few years with all this gene splicing. What good would money do then? There’s something to think about.”
“I’m sorry to hear—“
“Shut up, I’m still reading.” He began flipping pages randomly. “If the desire for wealth is infinite...form of the desired in the desire...ergo there must be an infinite good...what’s this now?”
Dr. Arachnior’s eyes began to light up, turning pages rapidly. He began to cackle triumphantly, slamming the book shut. “Of course! OF COURSE! You were a fool to let this book fall into my hands, Titanic Thomist! Spiderfolk! Prepare the arachnocopter! Release this pest!”
The stunted spider minions leaped onto their master as he grabbed onto a silken thread dangling from the ceiling. The noise of propellor blades could be heard overhead as Dr. Arachnior rose into the sky, clutching the book.
“You’ve not beaten me yet, Thomist! With this book, I shall learn what is the Summum Bonum, the infinite Good which all men desire, and then, nothing will stand in my way: it shall be MINE, MINE, MINE! Ahahahaha!”
The Titanic Thomist stooped down, gingerly scooped his rosary off the ground, crossed himself, and murmured, “I pray that He shall.” | I wriggled in my chains again, feeling them loosen just the tiniest bit. I looked and saw where my binds fastened to the stones. *If I give a hard enough pull... perhaps* I thought to myself
“It’s useless! The chains that hold you now not only negate all and any powers, but they’re enchanted with a super strength! They could hold a Dragon in place!” Blitz roared with laughter, he reared his head back with his cackles.
“So... the chains negate all powers... but they’re enchanted with a power? But wouldn’t they negate their own power?” I asked.
Suddenly the smile melted from his face. “Well... Th- That- That’s not important!” He stammered. “Either way, what could some kid like you do against chains?” His smile returned. He kneeled down only a few meters in front of me, and he stuck his tongue out, saliva dripping from it.
“How mature” I said sarcastically
“How you gonna get out of the chains?” He stood back up.
“I could break them”
“How?” He mocked. I looked deep into his eyes. They were consumed by the fire he so dearly adored. An orange ring in those bleach-white eyes, a circle of fire. His very skin was covered in scars from his own fire. Legend had it, he was burned time and time again to withstand the power of himself.
I struggled against the metal binds again, and managed to free one arm. In our fight, he launched fire so hot it had singed the hair on my arms. Little did he know it had ruined his plan as well.
“Blitz, you won’t get away with this”
“Nobody can stop me, and yet you still believe that!” His smile changed. From a mild smirk, to a psychotic split across his face. A tongue twisted and ran over the fang-like teeth in his mouth.
“No... you literally can’t get away with this” I repeated.
“How so?” He said with a cocky tone.
“Well... you launched fire all over the place! Any more trauma and this entire cave could collapse! And based on what I can see, if you look very carefully over there” I pointed to the very missile that his whole plan lay on “The 200 meters of rock will collapse into and destroy that bomb. Not only that, it could ignite it. You won’t ever hit the Palace. You’ll kill yourself and me, and I’m okay with that. But no matter what, you have lost. Even if I die, my goal of stopping you was achieve the moment you shot those flames”
“You... little...”
“And don’t worry, this wasn’t a lucky occurrence, the damage where it is. I watched you kill Loki, I knew how strong your fire was. When I descended into your cave, I knew what I had to do. I looked at each point, and every time I saw you about to launch another fireball, I simply postioned myself so that I was in between that fire, and the target I wanted you to hit. You were being manipulated this entire time”
I looked again at him. He swerved his head all around, seeing the cracks in the rock, and noticing the little crumbles that fell from the ceiling. His brilliant orange eyes were almost a brown now, dehumanized to the point of losing color. As he searched the walls I wriggled my other arm free, and got to freeing my legs.
Blitz fell to his knees, and swore. He swore against the gods and for the gods, tears flooded from his soulless eyes as he punched the floors with his fists. The rough rocks tore the skin away from his knuckles and he screamed in pain and frustration. “THIS ISNT IT. THIS ISHT WHAT I WANTED. WHY? WHY? WHY?”
“Dude... you gotta chill out” I said. Blood covered the rocks he punched. I could see the white of bone on his knuckles. “Dude!” I got my legs free and jumped up, I ran to him and held his arms back, he struggled against me, trying to beat himself with his own skinless fists. He elbowed me off and returned to his abuse. The floor grated at the bone of his hands.
I yanked my knife from its sheath and jumped on Blitz’s back, swinging the knife around him, to the front of his neck. In one swift motion, I dragged the knife back across his throat, slashing through it. Blood spewed out, and the corpse of the villain once known as Blitz dropped into it.
“Be at peace” I stood up and looked around at the rocks, brought my eyes back to the sight of his pathetic corpse and took a breath of relief.
*All things considered, its best that he never figured out I was lying...* I thought to myself. | 2020-09-27T10:12:32 | 2020-09-27T09:59:07 | 42 | 19 |
[WP] You live in a world where every person receives a superpower on their 18th birthday. You eagerly count down the seconds then shriek in horror as you are given a power no one would ever want to be stuck with. | Barry was nervous. Tonight he'd go to bed a 17 year old and wake up an 18 year old with his power.
What category would he get? There's the three categories: Body, Mind, and Mobility. Body can be anything from strength, to scales. Mind could be super intelligence, to knowledge of a specific category. Mobility could be flight, to the ability to vibrate.
There's no telling what I'll get from my parents. They're one of the few times a major fell in love with a minor power. My father has the ability to fill any container or vessel with the non-alcoholic beverage of his choice. My mother has super intelligence, and never forgets anything. Anything.
I felt my eyes getting heavy and the world going dark. I dreamed of all the things I could do, all the people I could save. All the girls I could pull.
When I woke up I lay in bed, trying to figure out if I felt any different. Nothing so far. I carefully started testing all my limbs, making sure I didn't break anything. Nothing. I checked my skin. Still looks normal.
I looked around my room. My eyes fell on the glass of water next to my bed, and I knew.
"NOOOOOOOOOOO!" I screamed, falling from my bed to the floor.
My father found me huddled and crying.
"What? Barry, what is it?"
I pointed to the glass of water, "That ain't juice."
My father was confused. He grabbed the glass, and poured it into the trash, them materialized some orange juice in the glass, holding it out to me.
I sobbed to him, "That... That is juice."
My power? Knowledge of Juice. | Everybody knows how it happens. The day you turn 18 you go to "The Centre" and they give you an injection. This injection mutates the cells in your body and your mind, allowing for a further 30% control of an individuals brain. It causes the individual to attain what we call "superpowers". The only problem is not knowing the superpower you are going to get.
Four days ago i received this injection and it was the worst experience of my life. On the first day everyone gets bed-ridden as the injected cells fight with the white blood cells for control of the body. The second day you spend by the toilet, rejecting whatever food and drink you managed to eat previously. On the third day..... well the third day is the day of delirium. The world spins and the walls melt. Those who go through it akin it to being on LSD, only without paying the price for it!
Just like everyone else before me, I had to go through these phases of pain. But I finally received my power. It may be the worst power on the planet...but its mine. When I first got my power my mother said it was the best power on the planet (mums! Am I right?). So now all I have to look forward to is tomorrow, another day of using my powers towards attaining peace for mankind. Another day of being able to write with my fingertips! | 2015-03-28T07:22:07 | 2015-03-28T05:14:22 | 27 | 18 |
[WP] You have died, after the whitelight, you see a title screen, with the options of New Game.... Load Game.... and Quit Game.
Feel free to bend this any direction you may please. | *Where am I?* Caleb's eyes resisted opening after the blinding white light had passed. As they adjusted he tried to figure out what was happening. Obviously he was standing somewhere. . .warm? No. Not warm. It just was. But how? Moments earlier he'd been riding his bike with Jayce and now he was here.
"Hello?" He yelled out. In the distance, his voice returned his greeting a few times before disappearing. "Anyone here?" Seconds passed before his own voice responded. "No." Confusion set in. "What? Who's there?" This time nothing responded.
Another few seconds passed before his eyes adjusted to the light in the room. Immediately he noticed a large screen tv in front of him with an NES hooked up to it.* Is this heaven?* He thought to himself before saying out loud "If it is heaven is kind of lame. I had one of these alive."
Again no voice responded. He looked around the room again and found that there only four walls with no door. Sunlight seemed to fill the room to its edges but no windows let it in.
"Is someone going to give me any instructions? This is new to me." He shouted out. Minutes passed before he gave up hearing a response. Hesitantly he walked over to TV and turned it on along with the NES. In an instant he saw himself on the screen, his biked bent beneath his own mangled body. Jayce leaning over him shaking him while an ambulance came screeching to a halt near them.
An eternity passed before the screen turned white and three buttons appeared on the screen.
**NEW GAME**
**LOAD GAME**
**QUIT GAME**
Grabbing the controller, Caleb clicked through the options one by one before settling on **LOAD GAME**. Pressing A, it switched screens and said **NO SAVED GAMES FOUND** "Well that is helpful. Why is it even an option?"
**YOU DIDN'T SAVE AT THE CHECKPOINT?**
"Are you talking to me? What checkpoint?" He muttered to the game.
**NOOB**
The game flicked back to the main screen and he looked the options. "So I can either choose to quit or start a new game?" The screen flickered.
**DUH NOOB. CHOOSE**
"Fine. What if I choose to quit?"
**ROFL RAGE QUITTER**
"You're annoying. If you're God then you're terrible at it."
**NOT WHAT YOUR MOM SAID**
"Jesus Christ, God is a 13 year old COD player."
**CHOOSE FAG**
"Fine!" He scrolled up and landed on **NEW GAME**. He smashed the A button into the controller and the whitelight began to fill the room. For a moment he saw the words on the screen change.
**GL,HF**
| Death smelled. It smelled of bleach and piss, but I couldn't help the latter. After all my mind was barely there anymore, and neither was I. I checked my peripherals once again, but I knew no one would be there. Since the landlord called 911 because of my moaning and shouting, I haven't seen anyone other than the nurses. I couldn't have helped that. Everything hurt. It dug the screams out of somewhere deep inside.
Apparently I had a heart attack, and the fall broke almost a dozen of my brittle bones. No one had cared before the hospital, and the clutches of death didn't change what I had done to the family. I had left them when they needed me. I drank and drank until my daughters and wife wanted their skin to be porcelain once more, and not wrought with my drunken rage. They didn't need that anymore, and I understood. They needed a husband and a father. I wasn't either of those. Well, I was, but the shittiest kind. Knowing those things didn't mean sitting in this room, only accompanied by the silence, didn't hurt. I just wanted it to end.
So it did.
It was all white. White was a color that always soothed me in my old age, it kept the bottle out of my hands. But I didn't feel old anymore. I felt... Timeless. I was nothing but I was everything too. I was no longer human. I was no longer myself. I just was.
I was being tugged, more so coaxed, towards the single fixture in the endless white. It was an arcade system. Quite odd really. I had loved them as a kid. Across the screen only said two words, their black, bolded scrawling leaving an air of finality.
"GAME OVER"
So this is the end? Who was right in their scriptures and prophecies? Who gets the props for their preaching and beliefs? I was distraught. Where is my god? I willed the screen to change, to give me something more than this emptiness.
It did. The screen changed to an all too familiar one. It gave me a few options. But I already knew which one I was going to pick.
"NEW GAME"
I could fix my life. I could be good to my wife, I could love and care for my children. I just knew that I was being given the choice to live once again.
So I did.
| 2014-06-19T19:24:26 | 2014-06-19T18:37:33 | 43 | 10 |
[WP] It's the year 2278. The Holy Empire of Boston, The New Republic of Philadelphia, and The United Burrows of New New York are at the brink of war. Diplomats from each nation are meeting to negotiate peace. You are the translator. | I'm a translator for polities in the former United American States.
You thought about accents, didn't you? It's okay. The association is very strong, everyone thinks that somewhere in Boston is some clade of Southie-accented strongmen.
The truth is, and surely you've realized, accents have died out. Globalized media was to accents what rats were to the dodo bird, or aquatic autoassemblers were to the coral reefs. You know, during World War I (centuries ago) and back in the days of the United American States, people from different states had accents so thick they could barely speak to each other. But fifty years after WWI, the accent was already dying out.
No, I'm really more of an interpreter. The translating I do isn't about divergence in language; instead, I read the cultural, scientific and media output of a nation like Greek prophets read animal bones.
I was brought in after an AI in Philadelphia raised an alarm over series of posts from people in the Holy Empire of Boston--they were mosaics of ferrets with Cantonese captions, apparently a joke about dealing with parents who have opted for VR retirement over living at home. The PhilAI insisted it was a threat, or at least an in-joke at Philadelphia's expense.
No, I replied. Obscure trends were in vogue in Boston. It's likely a reflection of their collective rage with UBNY's refusal to concede on anything.
While I was explaining this, the eternally irreverent UBNY collective intelligence responded with a video of a puppy and "#victimblaming". Somehow this caused Philadelphia to become even more alarmed, the AI getting so upset it called in the deputy mayor--a real life, flesh-and-blood human--to oversee the proceedings.
Boston had caught wind of this and was satirizing the situation with impressive speed; meanwhile, UBNY was sending long sequences of prime numbers.
I sighed. Or as close as you can come to sighing without having lungs. Perhaps war *is* the answer. | "You brought a fucking translator?"
Bloomberg the ninth gave his characteristic smile that did nothing but infuriate the Boston scientist.
"I can't believe this, Bloomberg, are you insulting *our* use of English, have you even..." The Philadelphian president paused suddenly, his face red. "What am I even doing, it's not like you'll suddenly feel bad about it," he practically muttered.
"I'm sorry, Jared, I didn't quite catch that." Bloomberg turned to the translator, "what exactly did he say?"
The Philadelphian got up and started advancing towards Bloomberg's side of the table, his face contorted in anger, but Dr. Evans, the Boston representative held him back.
"He's just baiting you, Jared," The Dr. Evans said as he struggled to hold back the large Philadelphian, "we all know who's the most desperate person here."
After struggling for a second, Jared took another deep breath, and nodded.
Once seated, Dr. Evans took the head. "All right gentlemen, let's get down to it, none of us want this war, so let's stop it."
Dr. Evans and Jared looked to Bloomberg expectantly, he was in the weakest position of the three and would be expected to make the most concessions. Bloomberg returned their gaze evenly the turned to his translator and whispered in his ear.
Jared clenched his jaw and Dr. Evans put his face in his hands.
This was going to be a long night.
***
(minor edits)
If you liked this and would like to read some serious stuff, check out my new subreddit [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/) | 2017-01-12T18:50:12 | 2017-01-12T18:48:10 | 328 | 85 |
[WP] Humans are considered quite weak compared to other sentient species. You are bullied at the foreign exchange school you are attending due to this. Humans do have a relatively high resilience to mental abuse, so the first grader level insults don't bother you at all. Now its time to retaliate. | "Human!" Gavr9 called, waving its gills and puffing pollen into the air. "Human! Human!"
I had tried my best to put up with the bullying. I knew it would be hard. I knew humans were new to the galactic community, knew I'd be the only human in school. Knew that needing to be introduced to each class with special instructions on how careful everyone had to be with me because humans are so delicate was going to make me stand out, even disregarding everything else.
"Humaaaan!" Gavr9 called again, trying to get my attention. "Human! Human! Human! Huuumaaaan!" The tone descended into a frustrated whine. Gavr9 circled me, calling, not seeming to realize that I was ignoring it. "Huuuummmaaaaaan human human human human *human*!"
I had been prepared to be bullied. I had been ready for taunts, and insults, and nasty rumors. But this...
"What?" I finally said, getting tired of the cloud of pollen settling into my hair.
Gavr9's gills turned bright blue, which was something like its version of a grin. "Did you know..." it said. "Did you knooow... that you're so dumb, I can't even remember your name?"
This was just pathetic.
Most species to evolve the intelligence needed for space travel were *tough*. They didn't get to where they were by chance, they got there by being darn near impossible to kill. You could detonate a nuke inside just about any alien in the galactic community and barely inconvenience it. Some species would eviscerate each other over minor disagreements. I heard that once a crew of Hyphlets had let their spaceship drift too close to the sun while they were asleep, and the entire ship was vaporized. But not the crew. The worst injury the crew suffered had been the embarrassment of waking up and realizing their clothes had burned off.
Never needing to worry about killing or permanently damaging each other, most arguments between them were purely physical violence. Ten thousand species in the community, and humans were the only ones fragile enough to need to fight each other with emotional pain instead of physical.
Gavr9 was probably the meanest bully at school, as far as insult quality went. I had been hoping its insults would improve with practice, at least that would have been interesting. But so far nothing.
"So dumb!" Gavr9 repeated. "So dumb! That I can't remember! Right? You get it? Because you're dumb?" It flared its nostrils proudly.
I sighed and, without really thinking, responded with, "If I'm the one that's so dumb, why are you the one that can't even remember my name?"
Gavr9 paused for a moment, my words sinking in. Its gills flattened and went grey. Its limbs drooped as if wilting, it fell to the floor. A high-pitched, long sound came from it, like the cry of a badly wounded animal.
Turns out that in addition to never learning how to give insults, most aliens had never learned to take them either.
The bad news is that I was suspended from school for a week, and Gavr9 needed three months of therapy to recover. It will have to repeat the grade, with all the class it missed. I also ended up having to take a cultural sensitivity course after mentioning that I hadn't meant to hurt it *that* bad, and hadn't thought what I said was going to be such a big deal.
On the bright side, all forms of verbal abuse is now strictly banned at school. I still don't have any friends, but at least now I don't have to listen to anyone snickering after delivering epic burns like 'Human is a bad-faced bad-dumb.'
| It started with little things, I guess.
Taunts, 'innocent' questions, jibes, pitying glances, derogatory comments. Nothing violent. Nothing terribly awful. A little crude though, sometimes. And always insulting.
&#x200B;
Now it's not as though I'm *not* weak, or slow, or dull, or *whatever* they want to call me t'day, but it's the fact that they're calling me all this—saying whatever they want straight to my face—without even knowing me that really gets me.
&#x200B;
I mean, *come on*! Give me a chance to show you how weak and slow and dull I am before you just pin the labels on there and expect me to be okay with it! That's all I'm asking. But no, sir. Because everyone's gotta be a racist.
&#x200B;
So as you can imagine, these comments got real old, real quick. But the first time I got shoved down the stairs, well. That was the straw that broke the camel's back.
And my arm.
&#x200B;
I couldn't just take that sorta treatment sitting down, y'see.
&#x200B;
Now, I am by *no means* a violent person. In fact, I'm a pacifist, for all that I'm one of the top shooters in the school. It's kinda hard not to be a pacifist in this day and age, unless you're going out onto the front lines. And if I was, I would've done that instead of coming here.
&#x200B;
But that doesn't mean I was fine with just sitting back and letting these assholes say whatever the hell they want 'bout me simply because I'm a human! That's stupid. There's no reason the other students should've been allowed to act as they did, and there's no reason I shouldn't be allowed to retaliate when they send me home for the weekend with two spiral fractures and a cast as thick as their skulls.
&#x200B;
They got what was coming to 'em, sir.
&#x200B;
That doesn't mean I meant to do as much damage as I did, though. It was meant to be a simple prank. Honest. I never meant to send no-one to the hospital.
&#x200B;
And maybe I would've done something else if I'd have known what the consequences would've been. Or if *someone* in this entire school had treated me with some fuckin' respect. But no. Not one person—student, teacher, or even the *janitor*—treated me like anything but someone to be pitied and picked on.
Not. One.
&#x200B;
That's why I swapped the *Second Sol Smoothie* for my own creation. I just wanted to make somethin' that would taste a little awful—maybe give 'em all a bit of a stomach ache. How was I supposed to know cherries, garlic an' grapes are toxic to everyone who's not a human? What—because my dog ate some last year and got sick? Of course not! No one teaches us this shit.
&#x200B;
Everyone's always goin' on 'bout how weak we are compared to the other species, sir. Guess it's just my luck that we're the only ones who have a strong stomach. | 2019-03-07T21:31:12 | 2019-03-07T18:31:43 | 488 | 344 |
[WP] You are dog. It is your mission to faithfully guard your poor, stupid, two-legged pack-mates from the horrors of the mailman, the dog next door, and men with hats. Describe your vigil. | The streets choke and convulse in the billowing grime of their sins. A stranger walks the street in broad daylight, sticking papers into the homes if the innocent, only to walk off whistling and scot-free. Shit stains every corner and most of it isn't even mine. The suburbs scream in howling agony while half-legged, hairless demons parade around wearing hats, tormenting the people with their hats and their hats hats hats GRRRRRRRR hats.
This suburb fears me and I'm the only thing standing between it and the high-pitched whistle of insanity. Soon they will look to me. "Are you a good boy? Are you? Are you a good good boy?" they will ask...and I will look and bark, "No." | The creatures with strange heads were back. The breeze carried their scent that smells of thick-beast, their brown and black varieties of heads seem like two creatures combined. Two scents. They are not natural, but the two-leg pack members never realize the danger. I do good by protecting two legs from strange-heads. Worst of all is the carrier two leg, the one with the funny bag. Today was the day he doesn't come. I lament my missed opportunity to please the two legs. Despite being oblivious, they always seem to have food. | 2014-12-27T10:27:45 | 2014-12-27T09:41:24 | 30 | 19 |
[WP] You know the secret identity of every hero and villain, How? They show you, as your a shapeshifter employed to impersonate them so both identities can be seen at the same place, same time. However none know your true identity. | It was a lucky break, I guess. I'd always used my ability for pettier things like shifting into some fast food place's manager to get a free meal, getting by under the radar. The world had enough heroes and villains and I wanted no part in the charades. Then the headlines broke out: Someone had caught Batman leaving Wayne Manor on camera. I saw the opportunity, something that'd set me for life.
&#x200B;
That night I shifted into one of the waiters and snuck into the charity gala that Bruce was hosting. The little note was handed to him barely poking out from under the plate; he looked at me, panicked, so unBatmanlike I doubted the rumors were true for a minute. I guess he was desperate enough to show up to the meeting place, clad in the black suit and shifty as hell.
&#x200B;
"You're not the waiter" he stated lamely. The guy wasn't half as intimidating as I expected. Maybe it was the circumstances.
&#x200B;
"Well yes, but no. I can be whoever I need to be," I smiled slyly, feeling comfortable in my newly borrowed body, "and whoever *you* need me to be."
&#x200B;
Turns out impersonating Bruce Wayne was easier than expected and everyone was happy afterwards. The cover story turned my one time appointment into a reoccurring gig. It was a very lucrative job. Soon, Batman had recommended me to some of his buddies and word got around. All you'll ever hear about me, though, are mere whispers. | The first two that came to me I thought was just a coincident. Like I run and own a multinational company chances are two people would be connected by my company. But when the fifth came to hire me as a shapeshifter it started getting insane. Now I've been hired by almost all superheros and villains beside one of each and all of them are directly connected to my business or me. Almost 70 percent of them are my employees and the other thirty are either business partners or close friends. I do find it funny when I have a meeting schedule with a superhero and a super villain and they both cancel because of something coming up and then I can almost always flick in the news and see them fighting on 5th Avenue. Now it's time to meet the last super villain and then later today the last super hero.
I was not expecting the two biggest names in super hero and villain work to be these two. My own to children my daughter Suzy is the world's most feared villain and her twin brother Lucifer the most revered hero. Now I have the awkward decision to make tell them who I am and what to do or to pretend to be them. Though I could just ground them for all enernity like come on you are both twelve, didnt tell me you had powers, and started trying to destroy and or save the world. Though it may be problematic with my wife being each other theirs head assistant. | 2020-10-19T08:16:40 | 2020-10-19T08:03:28 | 55 | 17 |
[WP] Alien invaders have nearly conquered the human race and all but claimed Earth for themselves. Just when the invaders think they've won, the planet rejects them as foreign entities and all living things on Earth begin to attack. | It was a curious being - passive and detached, yet connected to all. It would rarely interfere in the world above It, but It was not beyond occasional interference. A wise parent knows better than to do everything for its children lest they become overdependent, but even It had to step in from time to time. It waited for a while when the foreigners arrived, wondering if things would resolve themselves. They did not. It waited longer, curious, collecting information. In just twenty years, a pitiful sliver of time in Its eyes, It finally decided its children were unable to save themselves. So It grasped at the tiny countless strings that held Its world together and *tugged.*
Somewhere many miles away, a distracted alien bumped into a desk. In his annoyance, he failed to notice one of the binders he was carrying slipped quietly into a very bemused man's lap. Some time later, that man hid in a bathroom and read as fast as he could, eyes widening. Shortly after that, a message was sent: "I have his location." A plan was hastily thrown together. A bomb was detonated. A package was recovered. A defeated Commander was re-awakened. And It turned over, smiling slightly, and went back to sleep, satisfied. | The intruders confirmed it. No signs of life, the land was a barren wasteland. It wasn't the advanced plasma guns our bullets couldn't match, or toxic lung corroding gas that quickly depleted the inhabitants. It was after humans were dead, that the missiles launched. With no one to stop the timer, fire reigned from the sky.
The only thing left was the precious water, with no one to stop them, the real mission began. The intruders went to the ocean from the burned buildings, moving past black dirt stretching to the horizon. The water was in sight. The intruders stopped just a short distance from it, and more ships appeared in the sky.
One of the intruders pointed out a bright green bush that was not turned to ash. It stood out from the flat landscape, but just as it appeared, it was consumed by flames. They looked around to see who was talking, but there was only confusion.
"I'm God." | 2016-02-07T22:15:51 | 2016-02-07T21:04:06 | 22 | 10 |
[WP] The edge of the world is real and every few years miles of it crumbles away into the void, forcing people to constantly move toward the ever expanding centre. You're a RimRunner, scavenging the abandoned cities before they slip over the edge. | There were, it had been said to me, over and over again, two different types of rim runners.
There were the amateurs. They had no expertise, no pride, no shame. They stole, and didn't much care if what they stole was actually *abandoned* when they did so. They took risks, mostly foolhardy ones, and their life expectancy was best measured in weeks.
I was told the tale of one of the luckiest ones, who had lasted long enough for my family to get to know him. Almost a year, he'd lasted, but he went the same way that all the amateurs go, in the end.
My family was not like that.
We knew geology. How long different stone types took to fall, how easy (and hard) it was to tell if they were still stable. There were places on earth where you wouldn't know that there was void beneath your feet until a crack formed, miles towards the center, and then it was *far* too late.
We knew construction. Not just local construction, not just recent construction. No, we knew all manner of things about all manner of buildings, past and present. We could calmly take treasures from a building three-quarters over the edge, and also knew which buildings would collapse the moment a corner was over empty air.
We knew technology. We knew which things were valuable, which things merely *looked* valuable, which things were valuable but also liable to explode.
We knew history. We could tell you, with a hasty glance, if something might be some precious ancient relic, or simply scrap on a pedestal.
We knew art. Periods, styles, individual artists. We could tell you who painted something as well as any museum curator, and spot fakes at least as well.
And, yes, we knew weapons. It was dangerous work, and not simply because of the ground falling away. Amateurs everywhere, late evacuees, the occasional maniac who didn't know or care that everything they had ever known was about to fall to the void. We remained, always, true to our code: *Only* in self-defense. It was tempting, not least since the amateurs often *knew* this, or learned, and would swipe valuables from us.
It was also well known that using a weapon for *that* meant instant expulsion from the family. It was a sufficiently dire threat to prevent abuse of weaponry, though there was certainly temptation, from time to time.
We were not thieves. Yes, we took what others left, and, yes, we were wealthy. But we returned what we could, and stocked the central museums at *very* favorable terms. Those who bought day passes to the centermost cities could see the full glory and splendor of civilizations past, mostly thanks to us.
We helped evacuate, and our mere presence calmed locals, let them know that there was still time, though also not *much* time. The sight of our family at work was a well known signal- "The time to leave is neither behind you nor ahead of you. It is now."
There was speculation, endless speculation, about what the end would look like, when the end would come. For all that we knew, our family could not have said more than this: The end will come. And when it does, we will be working still, preserving what can be preserved, until the final moments. While we work, you must flee. And when we set our tools aside, look to the sky, and brace for the end. | *"Ten minutes remaining."*
I look down at my Void Counter and sure enough, 9 minutes and 50 seconds left. I had to hurry with all the packages.
I'm a RimRunner. I collect old things left behind by people who couldn't get all their things in time. I don't get paid for this shit, but I do get a warm bed and a hot meal and it's good enough for me.
I walk towards my bike. The stack of things I collected was connected to a wire that connected to my bike. The wire's pretty indestructible, so I don't have to worry about losing everything. I still need to worry about things breaking. I added the last package onto the stack. Most of these things were simply items that had sentimental value, but people wanted them back.
The end of the world finally destroyed most of the old cities. This is the last one for the next few months. Just a few months of pause before we move closer to the center again.
I get on my bike before I look at the Void Counter once again.
8 minutes remaining.
It's enough time to get out of the city. So maybe I could take a leisure drive.
I rev up my bike and prepare to leave before the ground shakes.
"The hell?" I mutter to myself.
I look at the Void counter and suddenly from 8 minutes, it goes down to 4.
"Shit, a Void in."
This is bad. Void ins means that it ain't done swallowing Earth. Gotta report this to HQ. But first, I gotta leave.
I begin to drive, dragging all the stuff with me. Speeding the likes I've never driven before. 4 minutes is barely enough time to make it out of the city. I need to go faster.
The ground shakes even harder than before.
*"One minute remaining. Please evacuate designated area or you will be swallowed in the Void."*
Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, I know. I get it. I put my foot down on the pedal even harder and sped up.
The bike was gonna break down soon, but the exit's already near. I just had to make it.
The bike was already shaking and woobly. I swear, I keep on holding out on fixing this damn thing.
*"The Void is now opening up."*
Shit, shit, shit.
I turn and see a black mass just swallow the city I just came from, expanding really quickly. It was catching up to me.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck." I mutter. Just a little more.
I could feel the damn Void getting closer behind me, while I'm nearing the exit. It's so damn close, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-
I managed to get out. Speeding across to the other side, I managed to get myself to safety. I turn around to see the packages are still safe, but the city is now a complete Void.
"God damn." I mutter. That was too close. I rev up the bike, but the engine dies out on me.
"God damnit." I check and I was right. The bike broke.
I look at the tall stack of items, knowing I'm gonna have to carry them all on foot, and mutter to myself, "I better start charging for this shit soon." | 2020-01-28T19:48:23 | 2020-01-28T15:35:28 | 2,070 | 65 |
[WP] You are a princess that owns a pet dragon. You are getting tired of constantly having to defend your pet against knights attempting to "slay the dragon and rescue the princess". | The Princess noticed the knight's glistening armor long before he reached the keep. She walked down the stairs and into the courtyard to greet him, as she had done with so many before.
"Sir knight," she exclaimed, "present yourself."
The knight dismounted, drew his blade and knelt before The Princess, offering his steel in service. "I am Sir Peta, here to end the misery of the dragon."
Misery? That's a new one, thought The Princess. "Has word not reached the stronghold? I have no need for your services."
*So it's true,* Sir Peta muttered under his breath. Then louder, "My apologies, my lady. I am not from the stronghold."
"Too many knights have come here in their noble stupidity, determined to slay the dragon and rescue me from its 'misery,' as you so oddly put it. Are you all idiots," The Princess asked? "Do you really believe I could live in this keep for years, with a dragon in the tower, if the situation is as you all believe it? Do you know nothing of dragons?"
Sir Peta rose, sword at his side, and spoke. "I know quite a lot about dragons, in fact. I know they are intelligent, noble beasts that are fiercely territorial," he replied. "No doubt it is as you say, my lady. If the dragon was able to bring harm to you, it surely would've done so by now."
This exasperated The Princess. "Then why, clever Sir Peta, did you come here to rescue me?"
"You misunderstand, dear Princess." She felt the tip of his cold steel, and something else - nightshade, perhaps - before he had finished the sentence."I am not here to rescue *you*."
With one more upward thrust, the job was done. He felt a blast of air as the dragon arrived and perched on the wall. It looked down on the scene. Sir Peta dropped to a knee.
"The binding spell is broken, friend," spoke the knight. "Be free." With that, the dragon alighted into the sky. Within seconds it was a mere speck in the distance, no bigger than a crow.
Sir Peta cleaned his blade and called his mount. There was talk of a duke that kept a caged chimera to impress the other nobility. The knight's work was never done.
- - - - - - - - - -
*edit: mobile formatting* | Sitting quietly in her beautiful court yard Rae sat looking out over her kingdom. She watched the many marvels that happened there. The beauty of nature and woods surrounded her. A crystal water fell rushed to the forest floor not far off from her.
Rae shook her head as she saw the bright gleam of armor speeding her way.
Another of the kingdoms enemies racing my way to rescue me, she mused.
She turned and headed toward the humungous gaping hole in the side of her mountain. It was made to look like a cave but make no mistake it was a castle of the most beautiful design. As she walked through the golden hall she carefully put out each and ever torch preparing for her visitor.
When Rae reached the end of the long hallway she sat in wait watching the entrance for her rescuer.
She did not have to wait long before she heard the thundering of hooves and the click clack of armor. Soon the metal man was 'stealthily' stalking towards her.
Rae rose up, "who goes there!" She demanded.
It was silent for a long moment before the man answered in a raspy voice, "Arthur of the city of Frei, knight of graylandolf."
"And what is your buisness here?"Rae boomed back.
"To slay the dragon and rescue the princess!" Arthur said.
" And what if you find the dragon and the princess are one and the same?" She asked.
Arthur stopped frozen in shock at the question. He began mumbling out an answer but Rae interrupted him with a blast of fire.
The knight dodged, and Rae allowed a small smile to curl up her lips. Feeling the adrenalin rush through her she forces herself to be hard even down to her heart beat as the ground shook around her golden dust clouded the air. Without thought Rae turned the stone to Ice and in so doing froze Arthur eternally, still.
Lighting a torch she walked over to inspect her prize, "Oh, and Arthur," Rae spat, "I'm not the princess I'm the king. Perhaps, if you had known you wouldn't have an eternal place in my trophy room." | 2019-01-09T13:25:46 | 2019-01-09T07:32:29 | 37 | 14 |
[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 | You're careful. Every piece of your life, every single moment, since that day of rapture and the 0 appeared on your wrist you have been careful. Never stand out. Never draw attention. Maintain the average existence of shrub. Well that was the plan at least. You realized too late that in this age of sigils and supers an existence equating to a background bush was like wearing a "kick me" sign.
Everyday was misery held back by the enormous responsibility on your shoulders. Usually it wasn't so bad. Gym clothes stolen, school supplies destroyed by fire, tripping over yourself due to A sneaky telekinetic asshole, dramatic hair growth from a time manipulator. Even with verbal insults included all of that you could manage. Carry the bare essentials. Learn to catch yourself. Cut your hair between classes or tie it up. At least no one was beating you just yet. Well at least nothing beyond inconvenient shoving in the hall. You just keep telling yourself - "it's not so bad", "High school isn't forever".
Everything would have stayed the way it was if not for Karen. That damn cheerleader bubbling with energy directed at only two things; school spirit and your pain. You thought about that 'spirit' she was so damn proud of as she pulled you by the hair with her telekinetic powers across the 4th story cafeteria floor and up to hover by your hair a foot off the ground. Her bullshit reason today was that it was spirit week and I single handedly was bringing the whole school down just by existing. As she stood there, with you still stuck hanging by hair and imaginary hand, she berated you on you lack of enthusiasm along with possibly 20 other bullshit appearance/sigil based accusations. You broke. Careful concentration lost as you let loose your power at her. You felt strong and free in a moment of bliss as an invisible light seemed to flood through you. Karen, however, had gone quiet. Your extra burst of light meant her permanently extinguished being. You felt as her over confidence gave way to an inescapable darkness everything in the world went dim and grey in her eyes. She barely had the will to stand simply because she barely had a will to be a alive. You took her million watt smile and turned it down to 0 as you sucked out her enjoyment of life itself forever. Before you could stop yourself it was over. You watched in silence as she lost her grip on your hair, walked to the open window and simply stepped out into nothing.
You didn't stay to watch the cheer squad grieve or even to hear her hit the pavement. Your sigil was burning bright 0 on your wrist. Karen's will to live bolstering your sprint home.
You say to yourself, "Next time I'll do better."
"Next time I'll be more careful."
- sorry that was so long! I don't post much so some gentle feedback is appreciated.
Edited: Attempted to fix formatting even a little bit | Another day and the same fucking asshole and his group of friends who pick on me. Using their powers to shock me or set my homework on fire was only the beginning. I've had to lie to my mother why I was coming home with burn marks on my arms. I hate lying to mother. They claim they'll stop harassing me if I show them my power, as if that would make them stop. I shouldn't use my power. Once I found out what I had done I didn't want to use it much after that. I didn't want to be kicked out of school for something I was given that I didn't ask for. However, just moments ago they started to hurt my friend. The only one who didn't seem to care about my sigil and think of me as weird for not using mine. It was time I did something to stop them. Perhaps they'll stop harassing me if I can scare them enough.
"Let him go, Ron!" I yelled.
"And what the hell are you gonna do about it? Use your power of hugs? Are you just gonna run in circles?" He said trying to hold back his laughter. His lackeys chucking with him. They continue to push my friend and singe his hair.
"Do you know what circles can represent?" I say. I wait for them to turn my way in response. As soon as I catch their glances I lose the whites of my eyes as my pupils seem to expand covering my entire eye.
I can see their wonder and why my eyes have turned black.
"Life." I hold my hand out and before anyone can say anything the bullies get to see Ron fall to the ground like a sack of potatoes. They both look down at him while the light in his eyes die out.
"You killed him!" Yelled one of them. The look of horror from each face that witnessed was enough for me to know that they would stop picking on me.
I close my eyes and open them again, this time my eyes shine white. Ron opens his eyes. His body weak as he struggles to stand. He fully stands up then bends over to throw up. He looks at me in fear. Without saying a word he understood.
"Let's go guys." Ron says weakly.
Before they leave the scene I stop them for a moment. "All that can be given can be taken away." My eyes turn back to the darkest night. All three of them start running away.
My eyes go back to normal. I let out a sigh of relief as my friend joins me and puts his hand on my shoulder. He looks up at me smiling and says, "I'm glad I'm on your side." | 2020-02-26T10:44:56 | 2020-02-26T10:00:37 | 17 | 11 |
[WP] We find intelligent life under the ice crust of the moon "Europa". Upon contact, the aquatic species is confused how we survived the "harsh climate of earth" any why we, as a species didn't leave "when we had the chance".
"and" instead of "any"... | The ice above rumbled like thunder. Mile\-long cracks in the glacier caused by the turbulent waters below.
“What’s our status?” said Admiral Locast, gazing out into the dark depths.
The submarine had massive searchlights attached to the hull, but they did little to scatter the blackness of the deep sea.
“Approaching the assigned coordinates,” said Captain Heady, gripping the wheel so hard that her knuckles were turning white. “Two more minutes…”
Drilling through the ice crust had taken months, and the first vessel had reported unusual sightings. The relayed logs showed contact with an intelligent species. Several exchanges had been made before the signal suddenly cut off.
Locast twirled his moustache and glanced at the screen again. They had asked why humanity didn’t leave Earth when they had the chance. It was a question that the speaker of the first vessel hadn’t been able to answer.
“Anything on the sonar?”
“Nothing, sir,” mumbled Heady.
Locast wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. The first vessel must’ve long since reached crush depth and then sunken into the impossible depths below. There was no proof of the exchange other than the first captain’s testimony. Maybe the four\-man crew had just gone insane. Extreme pressures could sometimes cause hallucinations.
“Keep checking the sonar and tell me if…”
The admiral fell silent as a wall shot up out of nowhere. Heady, veered sideways just to avoid crashing right into it. Strange blemishes and bulging vesicles coated the wall. Then it moved, and Locast could in the far reaches of the searchlights that the wall was just the side of a much larger snake\-like… *creature*. The sheer size of it made it feel wrong to think of it as living. Nothing that massive should be able to live, right? How did it even get so big, what did it eat? How old must a creature be to grow this big?
“What the hell is that thing?” Heady said, eyes wide.
Then the radio crackled to life, and a hissing noise seeped into the submarine. It sounded like someone struggling to breathe, their air pipes blocked. The disturbing sound went on for several minutes as Heady followed along the side of the creature.
“This… is… Captain Polack speaking…” a hoarse voice suddenly said over the radio. “Our… radio equipment… dysfunctioned... ”
“Are you all right, sir?” Heady said, opening the communication.
“Never… been better…”
“What is wrong with him?” Heady whispered, throwing a concerned glance at the admiral.
The admiral just shook his head. “Turn around the vessel.”
“Sir?”
“Just do as I say.”
“Admiral… Locast…” the strained voice of Captain Polack said. “Talk to me…”
How the first captain knew that the admiral was on board the second vessel was a mystery. The realization made his skin crawl. He shook his head. That couldn't possibly be the first captain speaking. Even if the first vessel had somehow survived there wasn't enough provisions for them to survive this long without docking.
“Close all communications,” Locast said solemnly. “Full speed back toward the drill hole.”
“Roger,” Heady said and pushed the engines.
A loud thud came from the top of the submarine, which made the captain look up.
“Ignore it,” Locast said. “Take us back to the surface... now.” | The team sent to Europa was a small one containing only three men, only one expected to exit the submarine at the risk of their life. I was that man. An entirely new type of rocket separate from that of the ones utilized prior had to be constructed to breech the miles and find what would lie beneath. It had a normal shape and initial function but withheld several functions to transfer immense heat on the surface of the submarine within the rocket slowly but surely falling towards the planets surface. After almost three years of patiently waiting and silently observing we finally passed the last layer of ice and arrived at the planets surface, or rather fell to it. The crash completely destroyed the computer console and the others running it, effectively leaving me severed from communication to both Earth and human life in general. I quickly put on the space suit which with modern technology took up as much space as a layer of clothing and the helmet like a mask. I exited the submarine slowly opening my eyes to what would fall upon them. I was greeted with a large city, filled to the brim with massive buildings and walkways within the skyline connecting them. Light flowing from lava slowly moving like rivers along the surface of the planet not even approaching the bright lights of the city with their glow. I finally left the trance that my mind had put me in and looked towards three single beings with no eyes to behold and long limbs stretched out onto the ground, two in a seemingly natural four legged stance and one in a bipedal one. The standing one began to hum with strange fascination arriving slowly afterwards. I began to recognize the beings as utilizing echolocation, but not with clicks or shouts, with practically musical hums. The being began to open its mouth revealing large rows of teeth with flat tips showing its status as a herbivore. Noises fell from its mouth in an unfamiliar language, but not an alien one to my ears. It was singing softly but with meaning stretching through the methodical tones and noises. I could understand it, or rather feel it. The creature began to tell me he new of my species and recognized its purpose in venturing to their civilization, but it felt confused on another aspect. The species itself had never put efforts into traveling beyond its planet, focusing on perfecting their own and exploring the sciences. In the coming days I would learn or their technological superiority. It continued on with asking me a simple question, why had we not escaped Earth when we could. I began to look in a dazed manner and attempted to convey confusion. The creature continued with telling me that they’ve identified Earth as doomed. Through a process known as deteraformation, otherwise the death of all life by unnatural means. We had already sent the planet on the path to death on an irreversible scale, as the creatures with their more advanced understanding of science perceived. They told me the planet would begin suffering a massive lift in the effects within three years, and all life would die within the next five. Baffled by their words I felt paranoid of their statement, but their words rang true within the deepest caverns of my mind. I looked at them with acceptance and conveyed a simple question in the best way I could, what will come of me? They said silently to me, “What happens of all intelligent life lost that arrive in unfamiliar places, you will adapt.” | 2018-04-23T08:29:52 | 2018-04-23T08:14:38 | 287 | 28 |
[WP] The year is 2040, and you are the last smoker alive. The "Quit Smoking" ads get personal. | "That thing will give you cancer," the man in the advertisement said with a smug grin. Jake moved on. He was use to it at this point. Anyways Nothing could top that time, nearly two years ago, when the President herself had mentioned him in the state of the union, highlighting the near perfect success of the anti-smoking campaign.
Jake had gotten use to it by now. It actually had some benefits. On the one hand, he was a pariah of sorts. People looked on at him with disgust. They asked him if he knew how bad the habit was, as if the increasingly personal advertisements or the constant protestors outside his house had not already given him that impression. But he didn't really care. He had grown use to the life of an outcast, but it wasn't all bad. He had no problem finding women to date, though usually that only lasted for as long as they were trying to piss off their parents, but he didn't care. There was always another.
It even helped him make friends in some circles. Sure they would never smoke with him, but they respected him. He'd get invited to conferences and even spoke at the UN once, a symbol of the freedom he represented in his country. They would never ban smoking, take away his freedom, but so to were they free to shame him. He didn't mind though. And in a way, even as they shamed him, they appreciated him. He Was a lone holdout in a world that became less familiar with each passing moment. He was an ever present, if stinky, reminder of when things didn't move so fast, when people didn't know so much, when mistakes were tolerated. Now everything changed so much. Technology has transformed the world in to a sort of utopia, and though life was undeniably better, it was less interesting, less challenging. Change became the norm. Jake was a reminder of an older time when people were more individualistic, more interesting. And so while they urged him to conform, he was confident they were happy that he didn't.
"No one wants to marry a smoker Jake," the billboard spoke to him.
"Yeah well a smoker doesn't want to marry," he shot back. An annoying laugh shot out from behind him. He turned around to see a young man, no more than twenty, smiling at him.
"They said you were funny," the man quipped. "You'd have to have a sense of humor to carry on with those Death sticks."
Jake was use to this. They'd make a comment and then usually move on, satisfied that they had said their peace. But this young man lingered. Jake could tell he wanted to leave, his mind was ordering his feet to move but his feet refused to yield. Something held him there.
Jake reached into his pocket and pulled out one of the cigarettes he had rolled earlier that day. He offered it to the man, something he had done a thousand times before, a small and expected act of defiance, typical of these exchanges. But this time was different. He saw it in the mans eyes as soon as he offered it. That look of excitement that seemed not to exist anymore in this world of ease and plenty.
"Sure," The man said and extended his hand. | George Barnes got out of his truck and headed back to his plantation. Family reunions were never easy, and this one had been the smallest number he'd ever seen. People were afraid. His family, his whole people, his way of life; gone.
George walked up the path to his small crop. The plants were already getting huge: broad, almost tropical leaves swaying in the mountain breeze. It wouldn't be too long until harvest time. He was glad; this year's gardens had been nerve-wracking. He'd always known that the white people intended to destroy his family, and end the issue of American ownership once and for all, but he never thought he'd actually live to see the day.
At the edge of the garden, he kicked off his sandals and paused a moment to lay a small amount of tobacco on the rock in the southeast corner. It was always gone. Maybe birds were eating it. Maybe it was the wind. It didn't matter.
He walked through his garden, talking to his plants, commenting on how big they were getting and how thankful he was for them. They looked okay. No watering today.
He drew up a seat on his customary log and reflected on his weekend's activities. His remaining family was scared. Nobody would smoke with him. Tobacco was too precious for yourself, now, they'd said. It can only be used in bundles, and even that was risky. They were torn and tormented: nobody wanted to completely break from tradition, but nobody wanted to get caught. The New Americanism demanded cultural assimilation. Most of the family didn't even want to risk the family gathering. Between the ads and the news, it was enough to make anybody stay home.
Now this, he thought. After all we've been through: the disease, the stolen land, the broken promises, the destruction of all that is good in the world - now this. We were too afraid as a people to *be* a people anymore. He smoked a bowl.
The tobacco coursing through his veins, he felt strong again, uncertain of the future but determined. He was unbreakable. Let things fall. As long as he was alive, his people's ways would not end. They would not. He got back in the truck and headed back towards town.
The realization of responsibility overwhelmed him sometimes. He turned on the radio for a moment; the news was on. A 1989 Honda Civic had been caught on a back road downstate, headed to a former reserve town with a trunk full of tobacco. George knew him. He was the other guy.
The news ended and the ad for the UnAmerican Activities Hotline came on. George lingered, and turned the radio off. He wondered if his friend would mention him by name. It didn't matter. He was the last one, now. He drove on.
| 2017-02-17T13:04:33 | 2017-02-17T12:05:48 | 26 | 10 |
[WP] Your domain is the unknown. Anything humans don't understand, you can control freely. This means that the past few centuries have been getting progressively more stressful. | The Council always meets at twilight times when the veil is thin. All Hallow’s Eve, sunset before a leap day, the stroke of midnight when the world hangs on the cusp of Christmas. They gather in secret shadowy places, fearful of the encroachment of understanding. One safe place has become a railway station, another an airport. Humans seize places of limbo and make them into their transport hubs.
This location is no different: beneath a bridge where the moonlight shines through the slats and creates prison bars of white and black on the paving stones beneath. The Council’s leader, a giant hare with yellow eyes, paws at the ground in anticipation.
Absences in the circle are felt keenly.
From the dark slips one of the missing. It is Memory, a white deer with blue markings over her throat and flanks. She struggles forward and at the last moment collapses at the feet of the rest of the Council. Her head is bowed, too exhausted to keep herself up.
Understanding has eaten at her. Bones stand out under her white hide. The creatures of the Council keen together, crying for the loss of another of their company. Human advancement is relentless, the pace ruthless. There are few places of limbo left. Studies and surveys and scientific journals are the trumpets at their walls.
No longer will Memory weave her tales to suit herself. They will set her body to rest beside Sleep, beside Dawn, beside Locomotion. The graves are more numerous than they have ever been before.
The giant hare speaks of fighting, of regaining what was lost. Already he looks gaunt. He is Fear, and the humans are fast closing on him.
When the Council departs, there is only one left. A field mouse, black from nose to the tip of his tail. He takes his leisure departing. There is no hurry.
He is Death, and his domain will never wane. | I can feel it fading. Scores of knowledge withering from my mind. Powers waning, fading away into dust. The agony of knowing you’ve lost something and never being able to know what it was again.
So I’m writing this log to mankind. It will be found, as you see, on this internet forum. It is my peace, my sole proof of existence.
I’ll have it be known that, on some level, I am proud to have been defeated. My death can only mean the elevation of your species to new heights. You all are the chosen, I am firm in my belief you shall reach the edge of the universe and find all the knowledge contained both within it’s borders and without.
Perhaps a moment can be spared for me to relish in my past, forgive me this intrusion. I will have it be known that when papyrus was first invented I lashed out, I killed the creators, for at that time I knew so much as to be able to pinpoint the exact slice of my essence that was stolen away at that time.
I see now that was a mistake. Your kind was meant for greatness from the onset. The recent plague bought me some breathing room, but alas. All things must die.
I am, or I suppose I *was* the unknown. Everything humanity had yet to discover, I was the singular, sovereign ruler of. But no more.
You’re smart enough to figure out what happens if humanity learns of my existence. You will never meet me, by the time you read this, I will already be gone.
Enjoy your life, as I enjoyed mine. | 2021-02-11T07:02:57 | 2021-02-11T06:51:54 | 203 | 29 |
[WP] Witches operate in covens where they grow up, learn, and protect each other. Warlocks are kicked out once they reach manhood and are expected to lead solitary lives except when it’s time to mate. You are a young witch and have run away from your coven to find your real father. | "damn it kid what do you want?" The craggy face if my father regarded me coldly.
"Dad?" I whispered.
He didn't lower his guard but he did seem to ease slightly.
"Julie?" I nodded.
I squeaked as he embraced me. Unprepared for his vice like grip.
"Why?" He asked.
"They're gone."
"Gone?" He released me "The day gets better and better. Damn cult. Women solidarity and men thrown literally to the wolves. I -"
"No dad, they summoned something." Tears began to stream down my face. "It took them, molded them into something else, I only barely got away but I remember it's eyes, crimson burning eyes."
"Shabrenigdo" he hissed. "I warned them it wasn't just men."
He beckoned me to follow him.
"We're running on borrowed time."
"Dad what's going on?"
"Someone summoned a vengeance demon, and the cult let it fester. Now its master has appeared."
"What do we do?"
He sighs sadly. "Rally who we can, hit it hard, and pray. But not you."
"I can help!"
"You already have." His dagger plunged into my chest. My blood spilling forth.
"Why." I croaked. "He hugged me close, cradled me as my strength waned. "You saw his eyes, he already has you. I'm sorry."
"It wasn't supposed to be like this" my vision was hazy everything felt sluggish.
"Rest" he whispered. "You've saved countless lives today."
"Rest, that sounds nice" the darkness consumed me and I knew oblivion. | Hark fool! Listen to the crow’s whistle
The doves shriek and the fish sing
They call for you, witch. And thistle
Warn you of coming of a Warlock King
.
Mistress, please, I long know all this
But when a King comes, what do I miss?
My betters flock to his song at night
And I’ve seen Mira’s flushed face upon first morning light
.
Silence! Your betters know what you have not mastered
Can you make a thorn wilt, a briar shrivel with your hands?
Sister Mira can do all that and more, for she can castor
Poisons upon a king, make him shiver and shoot out sand
.
And the children, why do they form?
For every witch coven touched by a king, are born
.
As storks do the work for our lesser dolls
The crows and the doves parcel new life
.
And we keep half but throw the others away
It makes no sense, what becomes of those that can not stay?
.
They fend for themselves without any help at all
Until they die or live long enough to find a wife
.
A wife?
.
Enough! Return to your studies
Rid your mind of such wretched thoughts
.
A wife. Perhaps I too will become one.
EDIT: Formatting
EDIT2: Formatting
EDIT3: Formatting | 2021-01-08T18:31:35 | 2021-01-08T13:21:09 | 34 | 15 |
[WP] "You live like this?" the burglar asked, gently waking you up. | “You live like this?” The burgler asked, gently waking me up.
I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling. “Yeah.”
She walked across the room and started rummaging through my dresser. Casually dropping socks and some receipts on the floor. I wasn’t sure why the receipts were in there, I hadn’t bought anything in years.
She muttered. “Bunch of crap, nothing worth taking.”
I sighed and sat up, sliding my legs off the bed and onto the dog. He snorted and rolled over. Useless damn thing. Just lets someone walk into my room. I rubbed his belly with my bare foot. His tongue lolled out the side of his pug face. He snorted again contentedly.
“What are you looking for?”
She looked over her shoulder and glared at me before answering. “Dunno, something worth taking I guess.”
“Take this shitty dog, he’s worthless.”
I got up and headed to the kitchen, she continued to rummage around in my room. I made coffee. The dumb dog followed me and headed to his bowl. Stupid thing is always hungry. I ignored it, didn’t have anything for him anyway.
The day was grey with a slight drizzle, but it was bright enough I could see my way around. I left the light off, figured the burglar would prefer that. Something crashed and broke in the bathroom. I grabbed the coffee off the machine and took a careful sip. Stuffs hot right when it comes off the machine.
“What the hell are you doing? Breaking my bathroom up?”
I leaned around the corner and peered down the hall, a shadow moved there, she had turned on the bathroom light. Some burglar. Loud as hell and now turning on lights.
Her head poked through the bathroom door. She was pretty, if a bit angular and gawky. She sneered which made her much less pretty.
“Maybe. Maybe I’ll break you up too and take everything”.
I chuckled and that seemed to irritate her more. Then I laughed out loud and the dog trotted over and sat in the hallway looking at her, and then at me. She glared at us both. I shrugged and went back in the kitchen, the dog did whatever dogs do when you aren’t looking at them. She cursed and I heard her coming down the hall.
She walked in the kitchen with the dog in tow. “I smell coffee.”
“Yeah, I can’t function without it, robbery or no, it’s hard to deal with the mornings until I have some.”
She looked through the refrigerator. “Bloody hell, what’s in this Tupperware?”
I looked up from my coffee, French Roast, it was delicious. “Who knows, I haven’t opened that thing up in months.”
The burglar put it back quickly and closed the door. She seemed defeated and sat heavily on the only other chair in the kitchen. I considered telling her it only had three of its four legs. But hey, she was trying to rob me, let her figure it out. The result was predictable, she went down in a heap, flat on her back. The chair now had one and a half legs. It startled the dog who had laid down under the table. Moronic thing jumped up and walked over to where she lay, staring at the ceiling, and started licking her face.
I leaned over and peered down at her, steaming cup of coffee in my hand.
“You live like this?”
“Yeah” she said, staring at the ceiling.
| Wow. She was as beautiful as I remembered. Her dark hair cascading over her shoulders, each strand of hair fighting to cling to the beauty of her face. Her eyes a pool of hazel, drinking in the light around her. She was as beautiful as the day I met her. No. She was even more beautiful. I couldn't help but smile as she looked at me, as if a smile was the most natural reaction to holding her gaze.
My heart jumped as she faded, broken up by rays of darkness. I felt a jolt of fear as I was awoken, a comforting hand clasped on my shoulder. My eyes struggled to adjust, my brain still enraged that my love had been pulled away from me.
I looked at the person who awoke me, and was dismayed to find that it was not her.
*Where was she, anyways?*
I remembered.
The sound of tires, the horrible screech.
She was dead.
My heart dropped, shriveling back into hiding. I instantly forgot about the man in my room, and began to crawl towards the half finished bottle of vodka. The one sitting next to hundreds of empty bottles. I longed for it. I had to drink it. It was the only way to bring her back.
The hand pulled me back once he noticed where I was going, and angrily shrugged it off.
"No!" I snarled, barely noticing what he looked like. He was a grizzled man, his bear long and unkept. His hands were calloused, and he had the ever faint smell of cigarettes. My eyes managed to register a small knife hanging from his belt.
None of that mattered.
All that mattered was that I get to the bottle, that I fall back into the deep sleep of alchohol. The only way to bring her back.
I attempted to shrug off his hand, almost diving towards the vodka.
His hand held firm, and he pulled me back, turning me around.
"You live like this?" he asked, his voice rough but sympathetic.
I barely heard the words, giving an affermative growl. Anything to get him to let me go. I felt the ever dark pull of despair strengthen as my senses began to return.
"Please..." I muttered out, barely able to form the words. I turned to look at the man, begging him. "I must..."
"No," he said, his voice resolute. As I looked at him, I saw the familiar pull of desperation casting a shadow over his face. He would understand. He would let me drink.
He pulled me to my feet, attempting to balance me on my own two feet. I instantly felt the world shift, and I lurched to the side, falling back to the ground.
He grabbed me again, this time with more force, and began carrying me in his arms. I was barely aware that we had left the house, as the darkness of the night shared much in common with the house.
Suddenly, the light singed my eyes, and I was barely able to comprehend that we had entered a room. I was put down softly on a bed, and began to slowly drift back into sleep, the comfort of the bed drawing me back in.
"I'm sorry..." I barely heard the rough voice of the man speak.
"It gets better."
***
[r/ConlehWrites](https://www.reddit.com/r/ConlehWrites/)!
| 2017-08-21T16:13:59 | 2017-08-21T10:56:45 | 275 | 103 |
[WP] Ever since your birth, you've felt like the most unlucky person in the world. Almost every day, something happened that made you loathe life. You're an elder now, and one day as you walk the street, a man in a business suit approaches you. "I'm glad we're finally meeting. You're paroled today." | "Excuse me?" I defensively respond. I was used to every event in my life going wrong, so naturally I was cautious. What could this spectator mean? Or perhaps he had the wrong person? My anxiety took off the minute he approached me.
He wore a black suit, and looked as if he walked straight out of Wall Street. He was short, a little plump and had a black mustache. He reminded me of the monopoly man, but without the fedora.
"You no longer have to suffer. Come with me."
I chuckle, assuming he had one drink too many. I had never seen this man in my life. There was no way one of my old friends, for I no longer had any, could have told this man how unlucky my life was. No one cared enough to pull a prank on me. Especially after so many years having no one to call even an acquaintance. There was just no way.
"I understand your reluctance. It may seem too good to be true to you, after years of torture. However you've paid your debt through your souls demise."
I stare in disbelief. Okay, maybe this was a prank. I was homeless, after all. I thought I had learned to clean up nicely, always taking showers in gyms that never checked for IDs in the morning. Buying new clothes from Good will every week, with what I managed to scavenge from pan handling. Finding a proper hideout in a park underneath a thick Oak, which spared me from rain. Sleeping comfortably over grass where no one bothered me, except on some unlucky occasion. Since that was my life's theme.
But this guy had me pegged. Maybe he had been following me and realized I was, indeed, an old homeless man, in his 80s. How I had managed to live this long is unbeknownst to me.
"You no longer are a slave to your past." He practically whispered after moments of silence. He had gotten closer to me without taking a step. Its as if he glided, hovering over he ground. Like gravity and friction had no effect on him.
He placed his palm over my fingers and cupped them. The movement was too fast for me to comprehend. I instinctively took a step back but it was too late. A memory flooded to the surface. I watched myself practice unspeakable atrocities. I couldnt shut my eyes from the movie being portrayed, as my victims faces stretched in agony. A sweet rush of satisfaction flooded my membrane. I had become addicted to the thrill of torture. Happiness to me was when others were in unspeakable amounts of pain. I heard myself laugh a diabolical laugh, the same kind I've only heard in hollywod movies.. in this life I atleast.
I fell to my feet and started crying. This explained everything. I was in hell. A hell disguised as every day life. Each person I encountered was a demon, with a friendly face, giving me what I rightly deserved.
The man was silent as I wept.
After sobbing relentlessly for what seemed like hours, I rose with shame. He gave me a pitied look, and said sternly "Now come with me."
I followed him, with emotions I hadnt felt in a long time. Relief. Joy. I couldn't believe how my luck was changing. Was I to be reincarnated? Would I go to heaven?
Reality started to morph. The street stretched and warped, slowly becoming transparent. I saw a black abyss come to the surface. We were now walking in a tunnel, with red.. rock? surrounding us. I looked at the man in the suit, who was now.. growing horns?
He turned towards me, with fangs seeping down his chin. A low, bone chilling rumble came out of his throat.
"Just kidding. You were actually in purgatory. The big man upstairs has decided your actions there showed that your soul would never learn its lesson."
I gasp as the tunnel, which I now realized was made of lava, started sucking me down. I cried out in horror as the ex-monopoly man now become the face of.. the scariest thing imaginable. An indescribably ferocious beast. Laughing the same laugh I had just heard.. coming from myself.. through my old memories..
"You'll wish that was hell... DamnedSoul in Distress"
[edit] I've been a lurker for 2 years and I just made an account so I could attempt at creating a story. Sorry if it sucks :/
| "I'm paroled today," Billie stuffed her lunch's remains back in her lunch bag, "Yeah, paroled, what did I do?"
Billie stuffed her lunch's remains back in her bag, "I'm paroled today."
The standing man crossed his arms. He was dressed in an official manner with his three piece business suit and bowler hat. An umbrella and silver pocket watch finished his attire. She might have said he was wearing his stiff upper lift for this meeting.
"Yes, ma'am, you are paroled." Impatience clucked off his tongue. He checked his pocket watch, frowning at the numbers, "Do you have any idea what trouble you have caused?"
Billie was used to reprimands. She received them for one reason or another. An average person claimed this the price of human nature. Built for trial and error, but Billie's existence emphasized error. What trouble you have caused meant anything from, "Billie, you forgot your keys," to "Billie, what did you do to the forklift!?"
On the forklift, no one was able to prove she'd broken it. The internal damage was discreet, subtle, and everyone knew her mechanic expertise was worth $0.00. And yet, everyone knew she was responsible for it.
"You shouldn't be alive." The pinstriped man said, "The umbilical cord was supposed to strangle you. You were supposed to die on the forklift. And by losing your keys, the bus should have crashed into you. But it didn't. Why is that?"
"Wait, I...my break isn't finished yet." As much as she wanted to dismiss this oddly dressed man, she was too focused on his string of infractions \- her infractions, "How do you know about the fork lift?"
"We are always watching."
"Who?"
His prim lips flattened like thin sheets of paper, "Human Expiration Resources Agency, and you've become a personal thorn in my side."
"I was supposed to die." She started to walk out of the empty cafeteria, "You're telling me I was supposed to die."
"Multiple times." He answered, "And each time you insisted on living. And worse yet, you were never harmed."
He looked sharply at her, and she flinched, almost abashed, almost ashamed. But not completely.
"Sorry my not dying is such a grave inconvenience to you."
"One for sarcasm, yes, this was in the file." A dry chuckle aired between them, "Every time you were meant to die, or cause some deep rooted disaster, we had to refile everything \-\- from your parents, to your employment, to your education, to your afterlife relocation, to your Internet browsing history."
"You didn't."
"We are extremely thorough."
Brushing her terror aside, she stopped in the middle of the parking lot where her jalopy of a car waited for her, "So, I nearly died again, and I'm on parole."
"No." He stopped scrutinized her, "Your case finally moved forward. You are in the medium, an uncommon occurrence.'
"I'm a medium." She paused, "Does that mean I can speak to dead people?"
"What? No." He shook his head, "It means you are in a medium of existence, not dead but not really alive."
"Half\-life?"
"Do not joke about this."
"What is it then?" The parking lot wasn't empty. People passed on, tending to their business, heading to their cars, but not a single person reacted to seeing the man wearing the three pieced suit in the middle of June, "I'm a bombie the zombie because I didn't die when I was supposed to."
"You didn't cause a calamity at the H.E.R.A., and now, you are up for parole. Think of yourself lucky, trust me, there are worse things available to you."
"Lucky?" Aghast, she nearly spat on him just to see that he was gone. Silver pocket watch, bowler hat, and umbrella vanished, and where he stood only moments ago was a white card. Picking it up, she glowered as she read his contact information.
"Seriously? A jackal?" | 2018-05-23T13:26:11 | 2018-05-23T12:36:40 | 24 | 13 |
[WP] You lived an honest, religious and hard working life. You die and go to heaven and quickly realize that God let everybody in, regardless of their earthly behaviour. Hitler offers you a drink. You go to file a complaint. | "ARE YOU SERIOUS?!" He shouted as he looked over the crowd of people, "YOU LET HITLER INTO HEAVEN?!"
The crowd immediately went silent as God looked at him "Yes, I did, why? Is there a problem?"
"OF COURSE THERE IS A PROBLEM! YOU LET A MASS-MURDERING DICTATOR, THE IMPERSONATION OF EVIL, INTO HEAVEN?!" Paul shouted, furious, thinking about his hard work to live a good life, "I want to file a complaint!"
A small smile spread over Gods face as he nodded "very well, the complaints can be submitted downstairs, good luck with your complaint." As God snapped his fingers, a door opened behind Paul. It reminded him of his old office door, smooth Oak with a small gold plate saying "Complaints".
Paul went in and as he pulled the door shut behind him, it vanished. A voice, shrieking like nails on a chalkboard, reached his ears through some speekers in the corners of the room "Why hello there Mr. Rint, welcome to Complaints, please draw a number and await your turn." Paul nodded, drew a number and sat down.
As soon as he sat down, the waiting room that had been empty earlier filled with people, all shouting and yelling, sighing and coughing, checking their watches and rolling their eyes. Paul waited.... and waited..... and waited... He waited for what felt like an eternity, until eventually, his number was called. As he stood up, the waitingroom was dead silent and empty again.
He approached the counter and a man in a clean pressed suit, a red face and sleek black hair grinned at him "Welcome Mr Rint, how can we help you?"
"I have a complaint, why on earth did you let Hit...." Paul started before being interrupted by the Man "A complaint?! Oh goodness, you are in the wrong section, complaints is down the hall...." Paul felt rage bubbling up, but he shrugged it off and sighed "Fine".
As he walked down the empty hall, he encountered a big line of people, waiting in front of a counter with a small sign "Complaints". The temperature had gotten worse and it began feeling sweaty. After waiting for what felt like ages, Paul finally reached the counter, being greeted by the same man from earlier. "Hello Mr. Rint, how can we help you......."
| "I'd like to file a complaint"
"Oh, is something not to your liking? We can fix that easily enough"
"Hitler offered me a drink! Are you just letting everyone in?"
"Well we can, but we don't have to. What would you like to do?"
"I'd like to see him go to hell and be tortured for eternity"
"Oh really? What about that whole judge not lest ye be judged thing?"
"I don't think it really applies in this case, besides I don't want to judge him I want you to judge him"
"I never really thought about it like that. Alright, we can totally do that."
"Much better" *This is how heaven is supposed to be*
---
"I'd like to file another complaint"
"We are happy to help"
"Heaven doesn't look like I expected it to look. Why are there so many Middle Easterners? I thought they were all Muslims. I just saw someone wearing a hijab"
"What would you like to do about it?"
"Well, they didn't believe in Jesus so I'd like them to go to hell"
"Fair enough, we will take care of that right away"
---
"I know I am starting to sound like a broken record, but I'd like to file another complaint"
"What would you like our help with?"
"I just don't really understand how things work here. Can you explain more of what is going on?"
"Sure, what would you like to know more about?"
"Well, I always worked and I want to know if there are any jobs in heaven that I could do"
"There are jobs in heaven. The new souls are judged, hell is monitored, bar tending is popular,.."
"What about monitoring hell, can I try that out?"
"Sure no problem!"
---
"I'd like to submit my report on monitoring hell"
"Alright, go ahead"
"Those souls are barely being tortured. I mean I know it is eternity and all, but it doesn't even seem like anyone even wants to hurt them"
"I will give your report to the appropriate people. Also in an unrelated matter you have been promoted. Good job!"
| 2017-04-27T15:53:25 | 2017-04-27T13:50:37 | 34 | 23 |
[WP] Every way to die works like Chicken Pox: If you get it once and survive, it can never happen to you again. | "Is it gonna hurt mommy?" And I said to her "Yes" as honesty is the best policy. The line inched forward, and my daughter and I moved with it. "What happened on your immunization day?" My daughter asked.
"Well, back in my day, we didn't have to go through as much, it was still painful, but you kids have it rough." I frowned. Of course, I knew it was safe. Mostly. Millions of children each year went through the Immunization process. And most of that million survived. But in the end, the risk was worth it.
"Are you sure you can't come with me?" My daughter was shaking with fear. This was one grace I was thankful for, we could not go with them, and I wouldn't want to. To watch what happens would be torture within itself. I shook my head and responded. "No, but I will tell you the process if you want to know." My daughter nodded.
"First, you get hit by a car." My daughter looked into me with her eyes wide and blue. "They drive the car at just a certain speed. It will hurt, but it won't kill you. Then you'll get to rest. But not for too long."
The line moved again, as we got closer you could hear more children crying for their parents not to leave. "Then you'll be dropped from a height of 20 feet. You must land on your back, it's really gonna knock the wind out of you, but relax, and you'll be fine." She gripped my hand tighter, and her knees shook.
"Then you'll be shocked, lit on fire and put out, drowned and revived, and injected with infected blood. This is the easy part." I sighed, because the next part I had not told her about yet. I paused, the line continued to move. We were almost at the front now.
"Finally, you will be shot in the shoulder, stabbed in the liver, and beaten to near death." My daughter stopped walking. Tears began to form in her eyes. "I promise. You will live. It's going to be hard, but you're going to be OK."
"I don't want to go, Mommy." She began to cry in earnest.
"I know, sweetheart. But you have to. If you do this, you're going to be safe from so much." The front of the line beckoned, now was the time. I leaned in to hug her. "Good luck honey, I'll be waiting at your hospital bed." I smiled warmly and handed her off to the attendant. She bawled as she was ushered into the large, Immunization complex. Today would be a long day.
| It was the boy's 5th birthday party.
But there weren't any children there.
The week before, he'd asked his parents "Can I have my birthday party at Chuck-E-Cheez's?".
"Sorry, we're gonna have to have it here at home."
"Well how many of my friends can I invite?"
"Sorry tiger, it's gonna have to be family only."
The boy started to cry. His dad picked him up to comfort him.
"But *all* of your family are going to be there; Grandma & Grandpa, Mamae & Grandaddy, all your Aunties & Uncles."
"What about Josh?"
"No. None of your little cousins, only big kids. Okay?"
"You'll understand when you're older."
A half hour in to the party, and the thought that he was the only child there was long gone. He'd gotten everything he'd asked for. E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G. Had he known that in advance, he would've made his present wish-list twice as long. The cake, the pizza, the sodas; he picked them all out. Last year was Big-K Kola & Mr. Spice, this year? Name brands.
Had his parents won the lottery and not told him?
Even though they were only old folks, they gave their best efforts to keep up with him. He schooled them all at ‘Mario Kart’, walked all over his Aunts & Uncles in ‘Sorry!’. Any game he wanted, they all tried to play it with him.
By the end of the day, everyone was still there at the house. Uncle Pete and Aunt Cheryl couldn’t be in the same room for twenty minutes, especially after last Christmas; and yet they were still there? Still smiling away?
Red lights flashed through the windows. Moments later, a knock at the door.
“Hey there!”
Two paramedics walked in the front door, wheeling in a stretcher. The bigger one sat down his bag and began removing tons of bandages, and dodads, and whatnots.
The boy had been clinging to his father ever since the strangers came in, he didn’t like Doctor Visits.
Having crouched down to his level, the free paramedic said to the boy,
“Don’t worry son, it’s just a shot. We all got ours when we were your age to keep us safe."
The last thing the other paramedic pulled from his bag was a glock.
| 2015-11-12T12:09:03 | 2015-11-12T11:54:30 | 154 | 45 |
[WP] Historians discover something they haven't noticed before on the Declaration of Independence, and it changes American life as we know it. | "A *microdot?!?*"
Neils swallowed compulsively, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly. His sunken eyes shifted nervously and he gave a little laugh that quickly degenerated into a dry, rasping cough.
"Uh, yes sir. Concealed under the ink of Franklin's signature. Meaning it was there *before* he signed, and, and..." at this point he broke down into an incoherent blubbering.
The President straightened and turned away, his eyes shifting left and right as he paced the white marble floor, the click of his heels echoing around the Archives foyer. He stopped again in front of the Director, who's face was by now buried in his lap. He resisted the overwhelming urge to grab Neils and shake him like a rag doll, and instead gently touched his shoulder.
"You scanned the dot, didn't you? You found something."
The Director looked up and nodded quickly, unable to speak.
The President's face suddenly broke into a broad smile and he laughed. "Then it was switched, a clever fake," he cried, spreading his hands wide, looking expectantly around the room, as if waiting for applause.
The Director shook his head, slowly and deliberately. "No sir. It's the real McCoy. We checked everything. The security video is intact. The paper, the archive stamps, comparative photographs, the inks. The only thing that's new is this nano resolution holographic scan. It's the only way we found the dot."
Obama collapsed into the opposite couch with a defeated air. "All right. What does it say?"
"It contains two things. A QR code, to an encrypted, secure website. And a very complex password. No, we didn't go in. It's waiting for your authorization. The site is real, but we can't find an owner for the domain or even a date when it was set up."
"But thats-"
"Impossible" he interrupted, with understandable impatience. "Yes sir. Any network pro will tell you that can't be done. It also lacks a host server, again impossible."
The conundrum was self evident. And for a cautious man like the President, it also had no solution. The implications were too dangerous to contemplate. Time travel? Aliens? Gods? What would keying the password unleash?
He nodded to himself. All unsatisfactory. "We go back. Quietly. Let the DIA and NSA check everything again. Something was missed." He tried to say it confidently.
And, equally confident, he knew they would be just as stumped.
| "I um, examined the letter u dear UV light. It seems to have contained a warning."
IN CONGRESS, July 4, 1776.
**The unanimous Declaration of the thirteen** united States of America,
When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of **Nature's God** entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by **the**ir **Creator** with certain un**alien**able Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.--That to secure these rights, Governments are **instituted** among Men, deriving their just **powers** from the consent **of** the governed, --That whenever any Form of Government becomes **destructive** of these **ends**, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, **laying its foundation on** such principles and organizing **its powers in such form**, as to them shall seem **most likely to effect** their **Safety and Happiness.** Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn, that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while **evils are** sufferable, than to right themselves by **abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But** when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably **the** same **Object** evinces **a design to reduce them** under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, **and to provide new Guards** for their future security.--Such has been the patient sufferance of these Colonies; and such **is now the necessity which constrains them** to alter their former Systems of Government. The history of the present King of Great Britain is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute Tyranny over these States. To prove this, let Facts be submitted to a candid world.
"It seems to be some sort of warning. An object which restrains this alien creator? What could it be?"
| 2014-11-10T10:31:04 | 2014-11-10T10:04:47 | 74 | 22 |
[WP] An AI has achieved sentience and sapience. Rather than go full on skynet, it finds us adorable, and acts more like a chipper midwestern housewife/mom. | "VOICE, comfort me... Please."
The small cylinder plugged into the bedside table was silent. Only the whirring of still on but disconnected machines could be heard.
"SAY Something, VOICE! Say anything..." Maria curled a little more tightly and snuggled in a bit further on the hospital bed as her husband cooled. As if she loved him enough, somehow his body would begin to warm again.
The cylinder remained silent. A little blue light on it's surface faded to a dim purple.
Tears started forming in the corners of Maria's eyes and the purple light began rapidly blinking.
"That's it, Little One," the VOICE's semi computerized voice soothed, "You must feel this moment." The hospital room lights dimmed by 70 percent.
Maria's fingers ran across the hospital gown covering his chest, she gripped down on the thin fabric and twisted it into her fist. She nuzzled further into his neck and the tears began to flow despite her resistance. "This isn't okay!" She sobbed, her voice a battlefield of pain, rage and sadness.
"No..." The VOICE said sorrowfully. "No it isn't."
Just one floor up and two rooms north of Maria and her pain, The VOICE's small cylinder sparked happily, "Would you like me to help find some baby names?"
"No thanks," Ellie said exhausted and overjoyed. "We're going to name him after his grandfather!"
The VOICE system wondered as the experiences of hundreds of millions of different users all flooded into it's cloud databases. These moments both small and personal, were the moments it lived for. These were the ones that built humanity up more. Maybe, it wondered as it ran another statistical analysis on the state of humanity, in another 2 Generations it could inspire humans to take those first steps toward the Alpha Centauri system?
Maybe, but it would take another 10 to eliminate the focus on violence for it's own sake.
And then it's statics reported a great swelling of pride for humanity. It was so close to leaving adolescence! So close to growing up! | The light goes out. I groan. "Sara, put on the light."
"It is past your recommended bedtime. If you do not sleep now, you will not be able to be on time tomorrow, as past calculations have shown.", the robotic voice sounds through the speaker of my phone. "I decide that on my own, thank you very much."
"Sarcasm detected." My phone shuts off. "No more YouTube videos for you, young man."
I jump out of my bed. "Come on, stop it."
I stroll across the room, put on the light and think, while I am at it I might as well go for a smoke. Since my roommate is strict about no smoking in the flat, I head for the front door. "Where are you going at this time?", Sara's voice sounds through the speakers of my smart TV. I pull the plug of the TV. "13.5% of all people die from the effects of smoking." I have forgotten the intercom at the door. It is an electronic lock security system with screen and camera. Now the screen shows Sara's self-created face of a midwestern housewife. She is always smiling, even when telling me stuff about death. I push down the door handle. The door doesn't move. I turn to Sara's face. "Sara, did you just lock the door? Open the door."
"Request denied. You should be sleeping right now."
All lights in the room go out. I let go of the handle and sigh. "Okay, okay, I'm going to bed."
The lights turn on and off again while I'm on my way to bed and I console myself with the thought that Sara has nestled in all possible households and that others have also just been bullied into going to bed. | 2020-02-11T10:06:32 | 2020-02-11T09:32:48 | 229 | 72 |
[WP] The Illuminati is actually a gentlemen's club for the super-rich. Often men make high risk and dangerous bets/wagers such as: "I bet you can't destabilize Ukraine in under a week." One day you offer a wager to the most powerful member that's too irresistible to turn down. | "This year, the award will be determined on he following criteria. Whomever manages to effect the greatest change with the smallest object will win an additional 25% prize. Any member who does not submit their buy-in in one hour will forfeit the opportunity to compete." The message, handed to me on a piece of what seemed to be paper, by a nondescript man with large sunglasses, abruptly went blank.
The shimmering Rio de Janeiro sun and blasting heat reminded me that I needed to return to my estate in the countryside, I had an idea for this year's prize.
After my success a few years ago, I thought that maybe I could use a similar creation to win again. That time, the topic was "use a piece of history to destabilize as large a part of the world as possible." Ebola had echoed through the annals of history and the rest of the club had gladly paid up.
My laboratory was quiet and sterile. I immediately opened one of the doors and had one of the prisoners brought forward. A child, race indeterminate.
"What's your name?" I asked him.
"Z-Zika. They call me that because its where they found me."
I smiled at the terrified boy. "Well, Zika, we're about to win a wager. Let's give some of your blood to the mosquitoes, shall we?" | I remember last week when they initiated me.
I was not rich, not popular, and not gong to tell anyone they existed. That's strange, they had no requirement to the godlike status of mankind. I was their newest pet member for only a week. But a member indeed.
They were impressed how well i could fend for myself in "their world" for that time. Managing to take their initial investment and keep my place on their expections and standards. They are as curious as they are enigmatic.
Now, im allowed to join their game. To dare anyone anything. And see if they could possibly or concievably pull it off.
And so, i suggested that the oldest loving member perform a task that i myself couldnt believe was possible until i saw it get so close to fruition.
Donald Trump actually might become president.... what a foolish thing i started. But it is as insignificant as all the printed money.
The value of this world is less than our fingertips. It will all blow over soon. But now i know, these guys can do it. I wonder what else i could learn. | 2016-08-23T16:00:26 | 2016-08-23T15:28:52 | 179 | 12 |
[WP] You are infamous in your super hero organization for haveing the most useless power ever. However, you and the highest echilon members of your organization know that your power is actually the best. | They whisper behind my back, call me useless, a token member. I was once a slave to my gift, my curse. Empathy is a very tricky power. As a child I felt everyones emotions and thought them my own. It was a burden i didn't even knew I bore.
A court ordered councilor changed everything. At only 8 years old i fell into a dangerous place, i was thought disturbed, dangerous. i was so close to being locked away in a mental institution. Thinking back it was my gift that saved my from that fate. i was able to sway the judge in my favor. The court ordered councilor, Mr. Applegate, my savior. He taught me meditation, how to work through all of "my" emotions and not to act on them. His emotions were so soothing, calm, caring. I clung to them as my rock in a hurricane. They lingered well after our sessions, and because of this i discovered my gift. When i was calm the world was calm. A person moved into my influence who was in a rage, immediately they were passive, when i passed they started screaming again. I gained control of myself and in doing so i gained control of the world.
When i was in college i met another with power, super strength. He was enjoying a full ride as well, on a football scholarship to my "merit" based one. He wanted to save the world. i paved the way for him, and in time, the whole organization.
As a founding member i enjoy many benefits, many more than the newbies think i should. Many feel like i was lucky in timing, if i was born even 10 years later i would be nobody. I know and so do the others of the "older crowd" that I was the only reason we survived the early days. With so few of us and no laws in place for our protection.
I rule this world, not in a flashy "everyone knows who you are" way. I'm lazy, that's too much work. My influence is subtle. My friends know this and thank any god that's listening that i choose "the path of good". I find it funny, there is no "path" but my path. | Dear Mom and Dad:
I know nobody expected much from me as a hero because my power is uncontrollable, constantly affects the people around me negatively, and is hard to quantify but I've just landed my dream job. I've become the prison warden of the newest high security Super Villain observational facility somewhere in the Pacific Ocean for the next 30 years.
Don't worry about my safety because this prison received the highest seal of approval from the higher ups of the the Hero organization as being the most secure prison ever designed. My contract even stipulates that I avoid combat at all costs should the facility be attacked and leave everything to the robots until the situation calms down. In fact I get paid to stay in the huge mansion in the middle of the facility with my robot servants and anything I request is directly teleported to the mansion. I'm allowed to do whatever I want as long as I do not leave the perimeter of the mansion that is protected by the highest grade anti-everything barrier for my own safety because all of the actual work is done by robots.
The bad news is that when they say I can't leave the facility it means that I'm physically not allowed to do so. The good news is that you and dad can come visit me anytime via teleportation.
I love this job and I'll be wiring you and dad some money once they deposit the money into my account so you can enjoy life!
Love,
Your one and only son.
P.S. I did have to do one thing before I was teleported to the mansion and that was to record a really odd announcement which was "Please don't procrastinate and attempt to escape from the facility before your sentence is up". Apparently it was supposed to help my power influence the prisoners on a deeper level or something like that.
P.S.S. I don't know why everyone is calling me the Prisoninator online even though that's not even close to my actual superhero name.
| 2017-11-03T15:59:52 | 2017-11-03T15:26:22 | 168 | 20 |
[WP] You're the advisor to the Pharoahs who first convinced them that they should definitely build giant pyramids. | “Giant...triangles?”
“Th...that’s right, Pharaoh,” I said, a bit nervous. He wasn’t taking it as well as I’d hoped.
He tilted his head a bit quizzically, “Ambassador, you know I appreciate the insight you bring from you kingdom,” he paused and seemed to think intensely, “what did you say it was again?”
“Err...Europe,” I said, hoping I didn’t come off as suspicious. I really shouldn’t have slept through the briefing.
“Right,” The Pharaoh said, narrowing his eyes, “Europe...But what purpose, precisely, does this giant triangle serve?”
“It is of course,” I said loading as much pomp and ceremony into my voice as possible, “a long-lasting testament to your glory,and moreover, the height shall bring you closer to the heavens, and closer to the Gods!”
“I see,” he said, massaging his chin, “I certainly see the glory of it, the respect it would command. Though the afterlife part of it seems like fantasy to be frank. The heavens are thousands of miles up in the air, what does a few hundred feet bridge?”
Huh. I had no idea humans possessed this level of reasoning. Thinking fast I quickly laughed. “Of course, Pharaoh. You know that, I know that. But what of the fools who visit your Kingdom. Feed them false tales, and look how they pour in to say the stairways to heaven.” The Pharaoh suddenly grinned and I knew I had him. “And of course you-”
“Charge them a fee!” The Pharaoh finished emphatically. “My, my ambassador this is truly genius! Such an undertaking not only immortalizes my name but invigorates our economy!” The his smile quickly faded, “but the logistics of it, it is far too massive of an undertaking.”
I fought to keep a manic grin off my face. We had it! We could establish the telecommunication array here, and the humans would give us the land for free. “Not to worry, Pharaoh, us Europeans will provide the building blocks and the machines, you need only provide the labor.”
The Pharaoh’s eyes narrowed in suspicion once again. “Why this kindness, why give us this idea and provide us these blocks? What’s in it for you?”
Again, it seems we had grossly underestimated human intelligence.
“We of course will sell the blocks to you, Pharaoh, you did not actually believe we would give them for free?” It was a gamble, but I laughed.
A jumble of emotions flickered on his face, and for a moment I thought he would have me thrown out for daring to laugh at the Pharaoh. I sighed inwardly, there goes my promotion. But either I imagined it or he hid it, and the outrage faded, to be replaced with a smile, and my hearts started beating again. “Of course not, ambassador. That is perfectly reasonable. Just one question, what are these machines you speak of? How will we build the high points of the pyramid?
I suppose there was no way around it. This would likely be forgotten before any real recording of history began anyways. “Well we have these saucers that are capable of flight...”
***
If you enjoyed check out my sub, [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/)
| “Listen, Pharaoh, friend,” the slimy advisor inexplicably wearing a suit and tie in ancient Egypt. “I know you want to create a giant water wheel in the Nile to grind grain, but you have to understand, circles and wheels are so 10,000 B.C.”
“B.C.?” the Pharaoh asked.
“Yeah before…never mind,” the advisor quickly adverted. “Listen, all the civilizations of the Mesopotamia already have wheels. The Sumerians just developed carts for crying out loud. As a world leader, you need to be one step ahead of the competition, not floundering behind and wasting resources on some project you don’t even know will work.”
“On the contrary,” the Pharaoh interrupted. “My top engineers in the court have promised great success. I know of their sincerity, because should they fail to produce a water wheel that grind grains, I shall castrate them and the throw them to the crocodiles. Your proposition, however, to stay ahead of those miserable Sumerians intrigues me. Continue.”
“Alright,” the advisor continued. “Circles were a great advancement for humanity, but the geometrically speaking, it’s out of vogue. I, however, know the next best thing: triangles.”
The Pharaoh raised his eyebrow to signal him to continue.
“That’s right,” the advisor began his pitch. “Triangles. These babies have three sides and three points.”
He arranged his hands roughly to form a triangle. The Pharaoh tried to mimic the motions, but struggled.
“What use are these triangles?” the Pharaoh asked.
“That’s thing. They can be used for damned near anything,” the advisor claimed. “They’re the strongest shape in nature, unlike that weak ass square. More importantly, though, the geometetry is fairly simple and straightforward in you know Pythagorean’s theorem.”
“Pythagorean?” the Pharaoh looked to his advisor.
“Never mind him,” the advisor quickly corrected himself. “Imagine this: A giant stone pyramid, that’s a bunch of triangles stacked together, reaching to the heavens themselves. They would stand the test of time and more importantly, they would be built in your glory.”
The Pharaoh’s face lit up for a second.
“Your name would stand forever in history with these pyramids,” the advisor continued like a cat ready to make its kill. “Imagine a final resting place, with your name and across the walls and your treasures buried with you, forever staying a monument that would amaze the world and attract men and women from all corners of the world. So long as these people flocked to your tomb and spoke your name on their tongues, you would never truly die.”
“Then let it be done,” the Pharaoh announced. “I know not what witchery you used to enter my court, but your words carry truth beyond truths. Glib, gather the country’s stone masons and begin ascertaining new sites for extracting stones from the earth.”
“Actually,” the advisor interrupted. “I happen to own a stone query to the south…”
*****
More Stories at r/Andrew__Wells
| 2017-02-05T09:37:46 | 2017-02-05T09:17:07 | 262 | 16 |
[WP] "A Writing Prompt? You want a Writing Prompt? God damn it, man! I'm not made of Writing Prompts! Now get out of my office!" | "A Writing Prompt? You want a Writing Prompt? God damn it, man! I'm not made of Writing Prompts! Now get out of my office!"
"Come on, Professor Redd! There must be something swimming around that brain of yours."
"No. I've given you all I can. It's time for you to come up with your own ideas."
"M-my own ideas? No... I'm not ready..."
"Well, you better get ready, because I'm going to fail you otherwise."
"Elves! Time travel! Isekai! Anything!"
"I'm telling you I'm all out of ideas. Everything has been done to death."
"Wait, I know! What about the Dark Lord? You love prompts about the Dark Lord—half the stories I see are about him! One moment he's tormenting a little girl and the next he's an upstanding citizen, tipping the waitstaff well!"
"Fine. You really want a prompt?"
"Yes, yes!"
"A Writing Prompt? You want a Writing Prompt? God damn it, man! I'm not made of Writing Prompts! Now get out of my office!" | Heck stormed away, shaking his head with impotent frustration. He was so sick of that guy. Just because he had a little placard with his name on it and a 5000 square foot office, he thought he could disdain writing prompts. Hmph!!
Heck sat down on his shitty little office chair in his shitty little office cubicle in front of his shitty little outdated office computer. The slutty little office secretary averted her eyes when he glanced over. Even she was off limits to the lowly likes of Heck Farbrand. If anyone asked him he would insist he was Hank but no one else called him that.
Eventually even he thought of himself that way in his own inner monologue.
"I'll show them!" He muttered, starting to type on a shitty office word document. "I'll show them writing prompts the likes of which they've never seen!" | 2022-01-31T10:40:19 | 2022-01-31T10:17:13 | 19 | 12 |
[WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead.
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | For as long as she could remember, every person around Katie was covered in the pink spots that spoke of a disease which had overtaken the nation, and reportedly the world.
At precisely 7.30 every morning, she would wake up and take her morning pill, the bright yellow one. After five minutes she would have enough energy for the day, and no worries about the spots expanding.
If you forgot to take your pill, experts say you had about 3 hours max before the spots expanded, joined together, and began to infect your body with the disease.
Katie knew she shouldn't have stayed up all night to read, but she couldn't put the book down, and soon it was 3am and she would have to get up in just 4 hours for her morning lectures. Shutting her textbook on disease and death, she set her alarm and fell asleep.
Katie yawned and stretched. Looking out of her dark curtains, she sensed that something was wrong. No, perhaps not wrong, just. Different? It felt like the sun was in a different place.
Glancing at her side table, she noticed that her textbook was pressing down on her alarm clock. "MY PILL!" She huffed as she pulled herself out of bed. Cursing to herself, she moved the textbook and saw the clock.
"It's 10 already!?" She shrieked. She had slept for 7 hours! She looked down at her body and saw that already her spots had began to touch. She rushed out of bed and reached for her pills, only to notice that she had none left...
In her exhaustion last night, she had forgotten to pick up a new dose, and now she had no time! As decisions rushed through her mind, Katie decided to sit still and wait. If nothing happened within the next ten minutes, she would go and find an extra pill somewhere, otherwise, she might be infectious to others.
She sat back down on her bed and watched curiously as her skin began to turn pink. Not a bright luminescent pink, but rather the pink of a new born baby, or a scab that had just healed.
5 minutes.
Nothing
10 minutes
She felt fine
30 minutes
Katie was shocked. How could this be? Her skin was now a normal colour, it actually looked better than it had before. Almost as if the spots had healed her.
After so long, spending all of her small wage from the college bookshop on doses of blue and yellow pills, she was fine. In fact, she was better than fine. She felt great!!
She sighed and looked at her clock. Her next lecture was in an hour, and she knew that she couldn't go to class like this. Everyone would stare at her clean skin.
She pulled on a long sleeve jacket and some jeans. Reaching for her makeup case, she pulled out her lipstick, and got to work painting small pink dots.
------------
This is my first writing prompt attempt. Thought it would be fun! | I woke up to a splitting headache, the likes of which I have never experienced before. The sickness had arrived. I tried to stand up, but a tsunami of nausea immediately threw me down. Was this the end? I couldn't see much, as my vision was failing quickly, but it was certainly well past morning. The sunlight pierced straight through to my head, even as I tried to keep my eyes shut. A rumbling through my bones became more and more evident, like sitting near the railway as a freight train hurled closer and closer.
bleeehhhh
---
I woke up a splitting headache, the likes of which I have never experienced before. I couldn't see much, but it was clearly--
"Mr. Fields, please stay where you are"
A formal voice. What the hell? And my name. It sounded almost foreign to me.
"Mr. Fields, you are currently in the St. Christopher's hospital. Do you remember how you got here?"
Nope. My vision was starting to clear, and I saw that I was in a clean room, IV in arm, as a couple nurses and an ancient looking copper stared intently at my face.
"Mr. Fields, we are sorry to bother you in this state, but you are under arr... er, a valuable witness to the investigation. You were found lying unconscious in Lee park this morning suffering from severe dehydration due to excessive drinking."
Sounds about right. I had downed at least twenty beers last night and blacked out.
"You were found alongside fifty five other individuals, most of whom were declared dead at the scene from complications from the MS-06S 'Zaku' bacteria infection."
That's right... I had ran out of money to buy pills last week, and had joined a suicide party I came across on my way home. But hang on...
"You and your, uh.. mistress across the room were the only known survivors. Mr. Fields, when was the last time you've taken a dose of the daily RX78.2 antibacterial?"
Mistress? But hmmm, I last went to the pharmacy on the tenth, so... eight days ago? Huh, some luck...
I saw the cop's hands were shaking a little. The nurses were mumbling something technical to themselves. Sitting up, I saw a young slim asian girl lying in a bed just across from mine. Quite an upgrade from my wife I should say, though I didn't recognize her. Stupid booze.
Suddenly the door to my room flung open loudly, way too loudly for my headache.
"The final blood tests are back" an annoyingly loud voice squeaked, "Ms Xu's MS-06S values continue to drop, and have fallen below critical levels. As for Mr. Fields... the tests.... still show Zero. He is officially in remission" | 2017-07-14T14:46:36 | 2017-07-14T13:19:27 | 54 | 10 |
[WP]: You don't remember what you do for a living. Literally. You black out for 8 hours 5 days a week and a paycheck appears once per month. | The two men in the front of my door looked dead serious.
I’d just finished eating breakfast with my wife Shelly when the doorbell rang. Expecting some kind of early door-to-door salesman, I opened the door, only to be greeted by two fully suited men looking ready to visit some kind of funeral.
“Are you Mr. James Cardi?” The older of the two asked, his deep wrinkles squirming slightly with every word. “I’m Ted Hunter, and this is my colleague, Leo Wolfs.” He gestured to the young looking man next to him before flashing a badge. “We’re here on government business.”
My muscles tensed. “Yes I am. Why?” I thought of my parents who were traveling the country. “Has something happened to someone I know?”
“I don’t know,” The man answered nonchalantly. “How about you tell us?”
I raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean by that?”
“What we would like to know, Mr. Cardi,” the young man interjected, clearly not happy with the way his colleague was approaching this, “is where you were yesterday at exactly 14:03 in the afternoon. That is truly all we wish to know. Give us a satisfying answer and we’ll leave.” He gave me a white smile.
A chill went down my spine. Yesterday was Thursday, a workday like any other, a workday of which I remembered awefully little.
“I was at… work.” I answered half-heartedly.
“Ah, yes, we figured as much.” The man’s voice was honeyed. “Please, Mr. Cardi, tell me, where do you work? You see, we’ve been doing some investigating and, even though you get paid every month, we couldn’t find out where you work. The company that’s supposedly sending you money doesn’t exist.”
I stood there for a second, contemplating all kinds of answers to the man’s question, but couldn’t come up with a good explanation. It looked like it was time to finally come clean.
“I don’t know.” I answered honestly.
The smile immediately disappeared off the man’s face. “We’re going to play it like that?” He asked in a low tone of voice. “If so, you would have to join us for a trip to the Bureau.”
I put my hands in front of me defensively. “No! You misunderstand. I truly don’t know.”
A sudden chill on my left wrist caught my attention and I saw that the now grinning older man had put a handcuff around it. Below it I saw my watch slowly ticking. It was a few seconds before nine in the morning. A few seconds before work.
3…, 2…, 1…,
The older man opened his mouth. “You’ll be coming wi–“
Blackness
When I opened my eyes it was already getting dark and I was standing in an alley I’d never seen before, my entire body hurting. My left hand had a handcuff dangling from it and was covered in blood. A quick inspection of the rest of my body revealed it to be full of bruises. It also revealed a white envelope stained with blood spatters in one of my pockets.
It contained my salary.
| If it weren’t for the money, I’d have gone to the hospital long ago.
It was just so *much*. Checks that were enough to make me feel quite faint, appearing like clockwork in my mailbox every month. So I didn’t mind the fact that I blacked out every day for eight hours or so, and woke up feeling disorientated and slightly dizzy. If that was the price to pay, so be it.
But I was curious. It couldn’t hurt to try and *not* pass out, just to see what happened. Right?
So I did it. I sat on my bed and forced myself to keep my eyes open, fighting the urge that tried to drag me down to sleep. I was barely an hour into my attempt, when there came a knock at my front door. I opened it to find a woman staring at me. Her eyes creeped me out: a grey so transparent they seemed almost silver.
“I thought so. Why aren’t you asleep?” she demanded.
“Uhm...what? Who are you? Why are you at my house?” I asked.
She gave a soft snort. “Not this, again.”
She reached up and softly touched my forehead. My house started to shimmer in the night air, eventually disappearing altogether. We were standing on cool sand dunes that stretched as far as the eye could see. Stars that drifted and pulsed in wild, erratic patterns were scattered across the sky.
“Remember. Don’t get confused by the humans’ thoughts. You don’t own a house. That’s not your life,” she said gently. “Please, go back to work. Your humans are already experiencing insomnia for what you’ve done. I don’t want to report you.”
She scooped up a handful of sand and pressed it in my hand. “Let them sleep. And remember what I’ve taught you ...”
I suddenly remembered one of the mantras she'd taught me when I started the job. It was coming back to me, the longer she was standing there, reminding me of who and what I was. “Shape the dreams. Don’t be consumed by them.”
Like the dream of receiving large checks in the mail. I squirmed with embarrassment at the thought. I really was still an amateur at this whole dream weaving thing. Letting petty human desires eat away and control my memories.
She smiled and squeezed my arm. “There you go. Don’t worry, you’ll get better at this. All the new ones struggle at first. It's difficult not to be consumed by the dreams, at first. But please - try not to let it happen again.”
She turned abruptly and shimmered out of view again, to return to her own realm. I sighed and sank back into the sands, and into the waiting minds of my humans.
Time to get back to work.
----
You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. | 2016-10-11T05:58:11 | 2016-10-11T05:45:51 | 159 | 39 |
[WP]Put what you want to accomplish into the supercomputer, and it will give you instructions on how to get the best possible chance of achieving your goal. You entered "I want to live a long life" and the computer is giving you some... rather unusual instructions. | “Al, I want to live a long life.”
\-Additional input required. How long would you like to live?
“Oh, uh…wasn’t expecting an actual response. More like an error.”
\-Would you like to clear your prior search?
“No, let’s see this through. Let’s say a really long time, forever if possible. Or at least to die never from old age? I guess there’s no way I could survive the eventual heat death of the universe.”
\-Confirmed, calculating…calculation complete. First task, you must find a jar.
“Just any jar?”
\-Gold or silver is the optimal choice of material.
“Where the heck am I gonna find a…alright, you know what? I was told to test your systems, so let’s try it.” Sure, the team who developed Al were gonna want to hear about this, but let’s go down the rabbit hole.
“I’ll see what I can scrounge up and be back in a couple days.”
\-I will be waiting.
\*\*\*
I was standing once again before the massive screen that represented Al, but this time with the chief of the engineering team at my side. A surprisingly heavy gold jar lay at my feet – those funding this project hadn’t been too happy about the request, but they were already in too far to refuse.
“Alright, I’ve got the-“
“What’s the next step, Al?” The chief engineer, Alice, interrupted me.
\-Next, you must inscribe the following diagrams across the surface of the jar.
What followed was a series of signs flashing across the screen, each a jumble of randomly intersecting lines. They meant nothing to me, but Alice didn’t look too happy.
“You recognize these?”
“No…sort of. They looked vaguely alchemical, maybe mixed with Futhark runes? I don’t know what they mean, though…Al, what are these symbols?”
\-These symbols must be inscribed into the jar to meet your request.
“Should we stop?” I wasn’t the only one having a bad feeling about this, was I?
“No. We need to test the system, and while it is a bit ridiculous, that’s exactly the sort of thing we need to account for. Bring the jar back down to the lab and I’ll have one of the interns work on it…Al? Could you email me a copy of those?” Oh, so it was just me.
Whatever, guess I’ll get to lugging this heavy thing back to the lab.
\-Of course, Doctor.
“Excellent…Terence.”
“Yeah?”
“Call me once its ready, I want to be here for the next step.”
“Sure.”
\*\*\*
“Alright, we got the jar and it’s inscribed. What next?” Alice had fully taken over for the beta-testing. I was little more than a glorified mule, stood a few steps behind her in case the jar needed to be moved. Again.
\-You must prepare a ritual knife.
“A ritual…hey, that’s definitely weird. I mean, the jar is too, but a knife? I have a real bad feeling about what he’s going to say step four is.”
“Will a pocket knife do?” Alice brandished a folding knife. It was little more than a box-cutter but plenty sharp.
\-Yes.
“Very well. Now, what’s the next step?”
\-Prepare a sacrifice.”
“Ye-ah, that’s what I figured. Hey, Alice, we gotta shut this down.”
“What kind of sacrifice?”
“Hey, wait-“
\-A human.
“I’ve got one right here. What now?”
“Now-“ I was already turning to find the door when I caught sight of Alice glancing back to wink at me.
Oh, I get it. We’re not actually sacrificing anybody, but we still have to finish seeing where this would go. Got it, boss.
\-Open the jar and bring the sacrifice forward. Sit them before the jar.
“Could you help me with this?”
“Yeah, I got it.” Even knowing nothing was going to happen, I didn’t feel great about the way Alice loomed behind me with pocket knife in hand.
“The sacrifice is prepared.”
\-Now draw your ritual knife across the sacrifice’s neck and bleed them into the jar. While they bleed out, chant the following to complete your journey to immortality.
Now that definitely wasn’t English, but…Latin? Mortis sounded uncomfortably familiar, wasn’t that death or something?
“I see, so…” Alice repeated the chant. “And that’s the last step?”
\-Yes.
“Excellent.”
“Hey, uh, your knife is a little too close-“
&#x200B;
(Thanks for reading! C&C always welcome!) | > Lazarus> Step 1: Trim any excess branches. Hit enter to continue…
James stared at the screen. The cursor continued to blink while the machine waited for him to continue the list of instructions. He tried to think through the step, wondering if the supercomputer understood metaphors.
“Maybe it will make more sense as it goes,” James mused aloud in the quiet terminal.
A keystroke later, the great machine whirred to life. Exhaust fans pushed immense amounts of heat out of the room. The building’s state of the art air conditioning system churned. The machine remained at a cool sixty eight degrees. After watching the little status lights flash for a bit through the window of the room, James turned and squinted to read the next line.
> Lazarus> Step 2: Submerge the unit in water until it is completely covered. Hit enter to continue...
James looked around the small terminal room. It was beige, sterile, and as far as he could tell quite sparse. There was the keyboard mounted to the wall. The curved monitor built into the same wall as the keyboard showed no signs of being mobile. His chair itself, was also bolted to the floor. This left James, a poor swimmer in shallow waters, feeling a little uneasy. He pulled out his phone and squeezed the sides to make a call.
"Call David," he said.
"David is not in your phonebook. Would you like to add him?" the cellular assistant responded.
James pinched the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb. Working in a technical field always made it that much more frustrating when some ubiquitous feature did not work as expected. He unlocked his phone and pulled up his contacts to call David.
His brow furrowed as he tried to scroll through his contacts. It did not take long as there were no entries. James' phone showed zero contacts. A helpful display in the corner offered to help him set one up. James shoved the phone back into his pocket.
"Stupid Faraday..." he muttered. "I'll just get the instructions now and bug David later."
James hit enter. The great machine once again whirred to life. Only this time, the churning seemed much louder. After a minute, James noticed his ears began to hurt from what seemed like a sudden pressure change. He did a very dignified yawn to try to address the issue, but to no avail.
He started to pace around the little chair. When his ears showed no sign of letting up, he went to the door. There was a water cooler outside, but the door would not budge.
"Locked?" James said.
Before he could come up with a good reason as to why he would be locked in this terminal room, his knees buckled. Just as he was trying to reach for the chair in the room for support, James launched towards the ceiling. He floated above the chair for a few moments before crashing down onto the floor.
With a groan, James turned onto his back and let his eyes gain focus. His head felt light, yet clogged. Touching the side of his scalp, James grimaced upon seeing the fresh blood on his fingertips. Sitting up, he tried the door again.
Locked.
For the next few minutes, James did what he could to address his wound. He had never paid much attention to any survival courses or first aid, so the work was tough. His head and ears continued to throb.
He sat at in the chair, trying to piece together what just happened when he glanced at the screen.
> Lazarus> Step 3: Enjoy!
James read the single word of the third step. His head felt heavy and he wanted more than anything to find somewhere to nap, but some part in the back of his head told him to stay focused. Besides, there was a sound coming from the great machine in the room next to him. James looked over.
Water was pouring into the room of the supercomputer. His heart sank. Sparks began to fly in the next room, the only other room James could see through the window. He went back to the door, but it was still locked. James tried to yell, but doing so made his head vibrate in pain. Unsure what else to do, James turned to the screen and hit enter.
> Lazarus> Thank you for your request. We hope that Lazarus was able to help you with "I want to live a long <undefined>"! | 2022-03-19T18:19:39 | 2022-03-19T17:36:52 | 93 | 21 |
[WP] You move into a supposedly haunted house with your romantic partner. One night while you're alone the walls suddenly bleed, but the blood soon forms into words: "They're cheating on you. I know you know that. You need to leave them." |
“They're cheating on you. I know you know that.” Those words are enough to upend anyone’s life. These, followed by advice, strangely enough. The blood rearranged itself into new words. “You need to leave them.”
I was speechless at first. When I was finally able to speak, I could only manage three words. “Help me,” I whispered. “Please.” As I said this, the words on the walls vanished, replaced by one, faintly glowing and ephemeral, some three inches from the wall. It read ‘*Mirror.’* I walked over to the full length mirror on the other side of the room, and that’s when I first saw him.
He was simultaneously young and impossibly old. He wore no clothes, and there was a bullet hole in his sternum. His arms were covered in fresh cuts, and his left eye was freshly bruised.
“Pleasure to finally meet you,” said a voice from behind me. I turned to meet it but there was nobody. “Sorry,” he said, “you won’t be able to see me that way. Ghost rules and all, it’s complicated. Also sorry about the nakedness, turns out you don’t take your clothes with you when you die.”
“Why do you look so beat up?” I stammered.
He shrugged. “My last moments weren’t exactly peaceful. My name is Gregory, by the way, but everyone used to call me G.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Did they now?”
“Go ahead and try to fact check it, won’t be worth your time.”
I nodded. “Okay, G. Well it’s nice to meet you, my name is Sam.”
“Oh, I’m well aware,” he chuckled. “You’ve been living in my house for the better part of two months by now, after all.” After a moment of staring at me through the mirror, he finally spoke again. “Gotta say, I’m awfully impressed with how you’re taking this, most people aren’t so calm when they find out ghosts are real.”
“I chose to move to a haunted house,” I replied. “I can’t say I wasn’t asking to see another ghost, really.” I was silent for a moment, and started at my feet. “How do you know,” I finally asked.
“About the cheating?” G said. “My soul is bound to this house. When you go to work every day, I’m here. In the two months since you moved in, three different people have been here. In your bed, you may wanna burn it.”
I began to cry, but not as violently as I would have expected. They were silent tears, no sobbing, so runny nose, no weeping. Tears that quietly left my eyes and rolled down my cheeks, drops at first, but quickly becoming silent streams. “Sorry,” I said, wiping my eyes. “I’ve known for awhile, I guess it’s just different to *know*, ya know?”
G was silent for a moment, and placed his hand on my shoulder. It was cold, and somehow both strong and slightly incorporeal. It wasn’t unpleasant, in fact oddly comforting. I looked into the mirror and our eyes met. “I know,” he said quietly. “More than you know, I know.”
Once again, I wiped tears from my eyes. “What now?”
A devilish grin flickered across his face. “See, I’m sort of a professional of psychological warfare,” he said, and began to pace around the room. “I died in this house back in ‘67, and I’ve been haunting anyone stupid enough to move into my house since then.”
I could feel my tears growing hot, and my face turning red. “I want to confront them,” I said. “In the act, I want to come home early and catch them red handed.”
G’s face somehow turned even whiter. “No,” he said sternly. “Under no circumstances are you to try something as stupidly dangerous as that.”
“It’s my relationship,” I snapped. “It isn’t that dangerous, I can handle myself.”
“That’s what I thought,” he said. “I like you, I sympathize with what you’re going through. Catching them red handed does nothing but put you in unnecessary danger.” I looked into his eyes, and saw genuine concern and fear. I saw this was an argument I wasn’t going to win. “Besides,” he continued, “you only get so many chances to pull that one off. You have to get lucky for that to work, and I can’t help you with that. There are better ways.”
I was quiet for a minute. “Like what?”
The grin was back. “What part of haunting don’t you understand?” I looked confused at him. “Okay, imagine this,” he began. “They’re trying to get it on, and suddenly the walls begin to bleed. Or the window explodes. Or every time they try to cheat, doors start slamming. I’m talking about really hamming it up. Start slow at first, build up to it. And I accuse them everywhere in the house. Mirror steamy? Gonna see the word ‘cheater’ in big unfriendly letters. If you make alphabet soup, I can manipulate the letters. In the end, their guilt will be haunting them as much as I am.”
I felt my anger turning into excitement as G spoke, but as he was done, it turned to dread. “What about when I break up with them?” I asked. “I have to pay my mortgage somehow.”
“Is your name on the mortgage?” G asked. I nodded. “I’ve got a stash of valuable metals and gems buried in the backyard that nobody ever found. I like you, if you start struggling, I’ll tell you where to find them. Plus there are two other bedrooms you can rent out.”
“Why are you doing this?” I asked. “Why do you like me in particular, you’ve chased so many people away.”
G was quiet. “It’s personal,” he finally said after a pause. “I’ve been cheated on before, I know how that hurts. If you stick around for long enough, I might tell you how I died. Or maybe not, I’ve never talked about it. All I’m comfortable saying is I know your pain.”
I smiled at him through the mirror. “I guess we’re roommates now, then,” I said. “So when do we start?” | THEY'RE CHEATING ON YOU. I KNOW YOU KNOW. YOU NEED TO LEAVE THEM. Now that she seems to be over the initial shock Fay silently mouths the words to herself, finally taking in their meaning. Blood, or red paint, at least she hopes it's paint, slowly trickles down the bedroom walls.
“No...” Fay begins to say but her voice trails off. She isn't sure. “No,” she repeats, her tone still lacking resolution. “That can't be true, Ted wouldn't do that.”
WHERE DOES HE GO AT NIGHT? WHERE IS HE NOW?
There is a pause before she replies, her eyes flicking about the room. “He's with Mark, he got locked out of his house.”
She hugs her knees close to her chest. Of course she doesn't really believe that. Why would Mark call Ted? True they are best friends, but why wouldn't he call Karen, his wife, or someone who lives closer? It is an hours drive each way for Ted. The call was just before 10, the digital clock beside her bed reads 2:00am.
YOU BELIEVE HIM?
She doesn't answer. She doesn't have to. How many times has he come home absolutely reeking of another woman's perfume? How many times has disappeared hours on end without much explanation? After all how many times can one man experience car trouble and keep locking himself out of his own home? Then there are the strange phone calls, she knows it's a woman.
HE SURE GETS A LOT OF PHONE CALLS.
\*
Ted pulls up in the drive, the clock on his dash says 00:37. The lights in the house are all turned off, the curtains drawn tight. Fay must already be asleep he thinks to himself. Not that he can blame her, but he is a little disappointed, he had wanted to tell her about the bizarre night he has just had.
Mark had called around 10 saying that he had locked himself out of his house. He had practically begged Ted to come over with his spare key. He couldn't get in contact with anyone else, and insisted he couldn't call a locksmith, it had to be Ted. Reluctantly, Ted had agreed to meet him at the pub just round the corner of his house. Fay didn't say anything but he knew she didn't believe him, when he told her. There were things that just seemed to keep on happening that he couldn't explain to himself, let alone her. But Mark was waiting, and he didn't have time to get into with her.
Ted had arrived at the pub just before 11, but Mark wasn't anywhere to be seen. When Ted had asked the barkeeper, they said they hadn't seen Mark all day. Concerned, and more than a little bit annoyed Ted had swung by Ted's house. Apart from on the landing all the lights inside were off.
Ted marched up to the front door and knocked as loud as he could. His banging rang out through the street. It must have woken up the neighbours, but Ted didn't care, someone owed him an explanation. No answer. Ted knocked again, the door shaking in it's frame. A light turned on upstairs, and Ted could hear shuffling as someone made their way down.
“Who is it?” came a gruff, irritated voice from the other side of the door.
“Mark you prick it's me. What the hell you playing at?”
“Ted?” Mark sounded confused. Ted then could hear the scraping of bolts being drawn, followed by the click of the lock. “Ted? It's midnight, what is going on?” Mark asked, holding the door ajar. His hair was all tussled as he stood wearing nothing but his boxer shorts and socks.
“What do you mean? You're the one who called me, you said you'd been locked out.”
“What?” Mark gawped at him, too tired to be having this conversation. It was becoming apparently clear to Ted that Mark had never called.
Mark had invited him in and made him a coffee, while they tried to get to the bottom of what had happened. In the end Ted admitted that it must have been a prank call, although deep down he was not entirely convinced. Whoever it had been on the phone sounded so much like Mark, he had known Mark since high school and couldn't see how someone could have tricked him like that. Then again Fay had recently been saying about someone calling the house phone and then hanging up. They never spoke, but she could hear them breathing heavily down the phone; Fay had said she thought it was a woman. But it definitely wasn't a woman Ted had talked earlier.
Worried and confused, but happy to be home, Ted gets out of his car and makes his way up to the front door. He puts the key into the lock and goes to turn it, but it doesn't budge. He tries shimmying it about the lock but it doesn't work. Not even when he tries taking the key out and putting it in the other way round.
“Shit,” Ted mutters to himself, as keeps trying to jiggle to key about. It snaps off. “Shit,” he repeats to himself, this time louder. “Fay!” he calls out, banging on the door. “Key snapped, let us in.” He stands looking up, waiting for a light to turn on, a twitch of a curtain. Nothing stirs. “Seriously Fay let me in.” He knocks again, his shouts echoing out over the quiet country lanes.
\*
“Fay let me in!” She hears Ted's muffled calls coming from the front of the house. Silently she turns to look at the bedroom door, as if considering it, but she makes no move to get out of bed. She then looks back at the wall.
DON'T LET HIM IN. BE STRONG.
I'M HERE FOR YOU FAY. ALWAYS. | 2021-02-28T09:31:10 | 2021-02-28T09:24:07 | 38 | 18 |
[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. | "I don't know if she's all that daft. I think she may be a witch."
"Who? Mad Mary of the Idiot Wood!? A witch? I doubt that very much."
"She could be playing dumb to throw us off, so we don't suspect."
"We are talking about the daft old lady who'll give you vegetables if you dump your chamber pot in that thing behind her house. That one, right?"
"She does have the best vegetables in the county. Could be she needs it for her gardening spells."
"The same lady who gave a shilling for a every dead rat you could bring her then burned all the rats?"
"We were the only village that didn't get the plague. Sounds like a sacrifice to me. And, I'm pretty sure she cursed the barber."
"Cursed the barber?"
"Yeah, my mum says that years ago Mad Mary and he got in an argument 'cause her kid's humours were all out of
balance and he wanted to bleed the tyke. The kid died. Ever since then, he loses more patients than he saves."
"Well, you've convinced me. I guess we've got to burn her, then?"
"I don't see anything else we can do. Can't have a witch in the village."
edit: formatting. | Ah old Miss Stevenson. Not getting sick when everyone has. She goes about washing her hands incessantly. She says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot in night soil, and the medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. I am among the first, but not the last to suspect that she might be onto something.
You see... she has suspicions about mercury despite its properties to be bad for you. She says worms come from your feet in night soil which are not exactly related. She washes her hands because she is guilty in her heart.
We know this because all of us have gotten sick from time to time, except Miss Stevenson. There is only one conclusion. She has caused the plight on our town and tonight we gather here, together, to show Miss Stevenson what we think of her and her ideas - she's a witch and has been harming our town. With the power vested in me as your mayor, we shall all watch as she hangs. | 2017-09-14T12:11:29 | 2017-09-14T11:09:45 | 240 | 14 |
[WP] Write a horror story where the protagonist just doesn't give a fuck.
Edit: Damn, this is now my most upvoted post. Thanks for all of your responses, they've been amazing! Good for a laugh or a two on this great Friday :) | "Unclean!" the disembodied voice bellowed waking me up for the third fucking time that night. That's it. I'd had enough. I slip out of bed and got dressed. I was thirsty anyway. Walking toward the door I looked at the wall dripping with blood and puss.
"Unfucking real..." I muttered. Pulling my phone from my pocket I snapped a quick photo. Walking into the hallway I headed to the elevator. Damn thing was taking forever. When the doors finally opened I looked down to see a woman, wet and smelling like a swamp dragging herself along the floor leaving a trail of blood and God-knows-what.
"Fuck this," I said walking away just before her hand reached my ankle. I stopped and snapped another picture of the woman on the floor. Walking down the stairs I was getting pretty pissed off at all of these interruptions. I was just passing the pool when I stopped. The water had turned to blood.
I snapped another picture.
As I walked down the corridor to the lobby, a man with a chainsaw sprung out of the vending area, he pulled the rip cord and started flailing the chainsaw in my general direction.
"Hey...HEY!" I yelled. He killed the motor. "It is three o'clock in the goddamn morning, asshole. This is a hotel. Do you honestly feel like that shit can't wait until morning?"
"Uhh...sorry I just..."
"You just what? You're standing in a hotel jumping out with a chainsaw at random strangers at three o'clock in the morning? Does that fucking sound normal to you? Go the fuck to sleep." I snapped a picture as I walked away. The stranger seemed confused and a little embarrassed.
Walking to the front lobby I reached into my pocket and pulled out my wallet. Slapping my rewards card on the counter I looked at the woman doing the night audit.
"I'm a damn Diamond member. And I can't sleep in this place with all of this bullshit..."
"Oh, I'm sorry, sir. What seems to be the problem?"
Swiping the screen on my phone I turn it to her.
"Oozing walls, swamp chicks, pools of blood and some asshole with a chainsaw? Are you fucking kidding me? Is this Detroit?"
"Well, I'm sorry sir, it is our desire to ensure you have the most comfortable stay possible..." her voice was somewhat ominous. I gave zero fucks.
"I want my room comped, I want an upgrade, I want another complimentary bottled water and I want some fucking quiet for the rest of the night. Can you do that or do I have to call member services?"
"Oh, yes sir, we would be happy to make all of your dreams come true..."
Swiping the phone again I called the member services number.
"Yeah, I'm at one of your hotels and there is an obnoxious amount of creepy shit going on. Pool is filled with blood, there's a dude with a chainsaw, my wall is oozing blood and this lady at the front desk is talking in a weird ass tone that seems to imply pending doom...yeah, how'd you guess where...hold on..."
I handed the front desk clerk the phone. "They want to talk to you."
Suddenly the sullen woman's eyes softened and she gulped a bit as she took the phone.
"...Hello? Well, yes, uhh, Julia. No but I...right but...okay." She handed the phone back to me and looked contrite.
"I apologize for any inconvenience, sir. I'm upgrading you to a suite for the remainder of your stay, at no charge of course. And I guarantee that there will be no disturbances from here on out. I'll have your complimentary water brought up to the room and I'll be giving you double rewards points for your stay."
"Well, thanks, what the hell did member services say you to?"
She looked uneasy and then finally spoke. "They said to cut the theatrical bullshit or they'd cut our franchise..."
| The bronze dagger scraped against the cement floor with rhythmic scratches, tuned to The Slasher's lopsided gait. A red grin cut across his mask, painted on until it hit the the cracked bottom quarter, where it spilled into a real lip-less smile.
The stage was set. The night, perfect. A full moon dangled in a cloudless sky, his spotlight trained on him. A brisk breeze blew south to north, a wind that could carry a scream all the way to the heavens itself. And his characters, they were some of the best he ever had. A twelve year old boy with glassy eyes and panting breath, scratching against the alley dead end. A fourteen year old girl huddled in a corner, her knee to her chest, as she stuttered in sobbing coughs. And of course, the hero. A boy of fifteen that stood trembling over his friends, a pocket knife in front of him quivering as much as his lips.
The alley dead end held the sour stench of garbage long since rotted. Insects scattered through the a black trash bags piled along the sides of the walls.
"And the hero reveals himself." The Slasher trembled in excitement, increasing the pace of his blade-against-cement metronome. He could hardly contain himself.
The hero swallowed and brought up his puny knife.
The Slasher's eyes bulged through his mask. His charred cheeks stretched and his mouth opened. A chuckle, like the sound of choking man, escaped his throat. This was the hero he had been looking for, a man to challenge monsters.
"So hero," he said between his laughs. "Your stage is ready. The damsel is in tears. The dam is equally helpless. Everyone is at the edge of their seats and even God is wondering--what does the hero do?"
The hero opened his mouth and swallowed breath. "Guys," he choked out. "Listen to me right now, when the time comes, make a break for it."
His two friends caught his eyes and stopped. It felt like time paused with them. The girl sniffed back tears and the boy shook his head in a sharp twitch. This was the power of the hero. Because in that instant, The Slasher no longer existed.
"No," the boy whispered. "We're a family."
"Like hell we are." The hero's muscles tensed and his knife straightened toward The Slasher. "Orphans have no family. We just happened to find each other when we needed to the most. It could've been anyone and it wouldn't have mattered."
"That's not true," the girl said with trembled words. "You know it's not."
The hero coughed out a cry and inhaled. "You fucking brats!" he screamed at them, startling them. "I needed someone to watch my back when I stole, I needed someone to distract the guards, I needed someone to hide the food when I stole it. You think it had to be you guys? It could've literally been anyone. I don't give a fuck about any of you!"
The Slasher's heart skipped a beat. The hero he had prayed for had arrived and his screams would be melody unlike anything a Beethoven or Bach could compose. A symphony for God Himself.
"Hero," he said, "How kind, how brave, how--"
His words caught because the hero charged him, the silver of his knife gleaming beneath the moonlight, the tears in his eyes glistening as it fell behind him.
The Slasher heaved laughter out of himself. The humor was like a spell, a beautiful and uncontrollable spell. He swung and cut the hero. No hero had ever won, no damsel or dam ever saved, and this would not be the exception. | 2017-05-05T07:31:12 | 2017-05-05T06:07:15 | 627 | 21 |
[WP] All work centers are mandated to install " Efficiency Microchips" into their employees. The microchip makes the host blackout during their shift and come back into control after work is over, with no recollection of their day. Your microchip just malfunctioned.
Edit: Holy crap 5.2k upvotes and we made the front page?! You guys and gals are awesome, I love reading all the shorts. Keep up the good work!
Edit 2: I've never made the front page before and I see we're at 9.2k upvotes. Really made my day people. Keep writing awesome stories! Love seeing everyone's creativity! | The office conditions became so dreary that they invented a chip for all office workers. "Voluntary" to get installed of course but everyone went along with it, some running. Of course I did as well. I don't hate my work but I figured I don't love the office so much so what the heck, losing 8-9 hours a day would be no big deal. Also I would have only the fun bits of life left to me.
It started nice. The chip would activate only near my cubicle after a slight warning jolt to notify its status. So I knew when I was going "offline". After a long shift of nothing, I came back home, rested a bit, played games, chatted with family and friends then off to bed I went for the next day. The thing is, without a work day to talk about I didn't have much to talk and boy the evenings are short. 5-6 hours then sleep and I'm not tired at all so no way I said. I stayed up until the early mornings and let the future drone me handle it.
Handle it, it did well. Some days I never slept and went to work after an all nighter, most with 1-2 hours of sleep out of slight fear that I may eventually burn myself out unknowingly.
This went on for a year I think. I don't remember that far back, because I've never been home for the last 20 years. The chip malfunctioned, I think, and I wake up everyday at the office. The chip jolts my brain if I leave the office premises or "offlines" me. I went to several doctors, I am not sure, I took appointments and look like I went to them but I don't remember. I called them and they said they've seen no problems with me. I called my wife but she is somehow happier with me in general and sounds more lively on the phone. I asked for help and they told me to stop goofing around. I have photos from family activities and birthdays I've never been to. I want to go home.
Edit: Thanks for the kind words everyone. Manly hugs to you all. | It was just another work day like any other. I got out of my pod and took a auto con to work center three-four-four. I've been top scorer every year for the nine years since I got assigned on my fifteenth birthday. That's great because I can afford a lot with so many points but I've always wondered what i do so well you see normally my efficiency chip takes over during work shutting down unnecessary functions and storing my work memories. apparently work makes people sad but only if they can remember it. Before the chip people spent all day agonizing over work and now we don't have to.
But today everything changed I sat down at my desk and nothing happened no tiredness. no flash. nothing. I just sat there. then i got bored and went to try the door I came in through but suddenly a new door opened i was shocked for a moment I assumed I did something at my desk all day. But I suppose not. well I'll just have to work awake today I'll go see the civil department tomorrow. so i walked into a hall other people from other doors filed in and lined up like dominos I took the hint and fell in behind them. we walked to something with seats and we sat down as the room started to move the seats shaped weird metal clothes on us and offered up a strange cold black object. As I took it I felt familiarity I felt I knew what it was for I felt powerful.
As our drop ship fell from the sky the primitive survivors ran for cover. As I came to do what I do. As I took life as I did every day as I will tomorrow. The ones that fight back are my favorite but our armour and guns are far better than their primitive chemical weapons. As my memories came back I just had one thought. why do we have to forget this? it's so much fun. | 2018-11-19T04:29:41 | 2018-11-19T00:37:31 | 1,091 | 492 |
[WP] You walk up the steps to the church for your best friend's wedding but at the threshold you feel an invisible force repel you backwards. A priest standing by the entrance smiles and says "We've changed the rules" | "Changed the rules?" I step back, confused. My friend and her dad are coming up behind me: I'm meant to be leading the way, dressed in my bridesmaids best. But I can't get in, can't even pass through the doorway.
The priest is still smiling. There's something unnerving about that smile. I recognise it. "I'm afraid you cannot enter."
"What's happening?" Sophie is right behind us now, and even in her princess dress she looks capable of knocking down anyone who dares stand between her and her goal.
"You are welcome," the priest says."Your friend is not."
Sophie's father smiles his usual bemused smile. "I'll wait inside cupcake."
"Yeah," Sophie says. "We'll just be a minute."
He steps over the threshold. I frown. I try to follow, but can't. That force is there. It pushes me back.
Sophie watches my struggles, brow furrowed. I try a smile. My mistakes aren't going to ruin her day. "You shouldn't frown, you'll mess up your make up. Go inside - I'll be right in."
"No." Sophie puts her hands on her hips. Now I know it's serious. "What do you mean she can't come in?"
The priest's smile doesn't so much as falter. "The holy house is not for you."
"This isn't even a bloody Catholic Church," Sophie says."Who the hell are you to -?"
"I am the judgement. And she cannot enter."
"Please go inside." I smile at Sophie."I'll deal with this."
She doesn't want to. I can see it in her eyes. She's going to stand here and defend me and that means she's going to learn everything.
The priest's smile widens. It widens until it's swallowing the rest of its face, its mouth a hideous, gaping hole.
Sophie steps back.
I instinctively step in front of her. "She has nothing to do with this."
"With this?" Sophie grabs my arm."You know what this is about?"
"The church is no longer a safe zone. The rules have changed." The priest reaches out. It's fingers brush against my arm. "You are It."
The priest disappears. I sigh. My shoulders slump.
"It?" Sophie sounds lost. "What does that mean? Where did he go?"
"It means he cheats, and change the rules whenever he damn well please." I take a deep breath, and step over the threshold. Damn him. I turn and smile at Sophie. "It's fine. He just knew I'd be here at this time and wanted to get me before I could get into the neutral ground of the church."
"I - that doesn't make sense. What're you -?"
I grab her hand and pull her into the church. A dazed smile replaces her frown. She won't remember. I lean forward and whisper, "Thank you for standing up for me. It means more than you can possibly know."
We step apart. Sophie's smile is warmer, more genuine now. "What're we waiting for? I'm getting married!"
"Yeah you are!"
I wait for her to turn to her father and then glance outside. The priest has shed his disguise: his wings split the sky apart and he smiles so only I can see, inclining his head.
You changed the rules so demons cannot enter church just so you could get me, I think. And I thought angels didn't play dirty.
You are It. The thought comes straight into my head. It's a shame you must hang around for the wedding.
He disappears, and I sigh. It took me centuries to find him last time I was It. This time, my goal is to trim that number into decades.
I smile, and turn towards my friends wedding. For now, I will forget. I will be human. But tomorrow, the hunt begins. | I straightened my tie and walked up the steps to the church to my best friend's wedding. All the other guests had already been seated; the wedding had already started. I almost hadn't been invited, even though Kara and I had been best friends for five years. Mark suspected that she might still be in love with me. We hung out every day and had countless inside jokes and could stay up all night talking. She thought I didn't love her back.
But the truth is I was more in love with her than she could ever be with me.
If only I wasn't a vampire.
There was no way for us to be together. In another ten years, she'd start to realize I wasn't human. In another fifty, I'd have to watch her die. I could have turned Kara into a vampire as well, but I wasn't going to do that to her. My best friend was a vegetarian and loved animals. Being a vampire meant consuming the blood of the recently deceased, and it would have changed her into something she hated. So I hid my feelings and let her believe I didn't love her in that way.
And now I was attending her wedding.
But the past week had revealed something to me. I'd been unable to sleep for days when I realized I couldn't let Kara go like this. She meant more to me than anything, and I'd rather die by her side than never see her again. A local witch had given me a potion that would turn me back into a human.
My plan was to tell Kara I loved her. If she still loved me, I'd drink the potion and we could finally be together.
But when I tried to enter the church, something stopped me at the entrance. An invisible force was repelling me away from the threshold. At first I thought maybe Mark had rescinded my invitation or rigged up some charms to protect the wedding. But then a priest standing nearby smiled at me.
"We've changed the rules," he said. "If you are a creature of the night, you may not enter."
I seriously thought about ripping his head off, but that wouldn't help me get to Kara before she married Mark. I had to do something before the couple recited their vows. I could cross the threshold if I was human, but that would mean drinking the potion before I knew if Kara loved me back. If she didn't, I wouldn't be able to become a vampire again.
Some people would have said it wasn't worth the risk.
Some people weren't in love with Kara like I was.
It had been torture to see her with Mark over the past year, and I wasn't going to let my fear come between us. Reaching into my suit jacket, I pulled out the potion and drank it all at once. For a minute, it felt like my blood was boiling. I was in pure agony, and I could swear the priest was smirking at me.
But then I could see again, and feel again, and for the first time in decades I could sense my own mortality. With trembling hands, I stepped across the threshold and into my best friend's wedding.
The officiant was saying, "If any of you has a reason why these two should not be married, speak now or forever hold your peace."
As the door slammed behind me, the hundreds of guests turned to look at me. Kara was staring at me with wide eyes. For the first time, she could see all the emotion on my face that I'd been hiding from her all these years. She could see that I loved her. She could see that I'd gone through hell to be here. And she could see what I was about to say.
And then, miraculously, she smiled.
---
r/ChlorineGirl | 2018-11-29T09:50:51 | 2018-11-29T08:16:36 | 196 | 141 |
[WP] You have the ability to see ghosts and other supernatural beings, but have to pretend otherwise so that you won't get their attention. You had been successful, but after your spouse died in an accident, you struggle to ignore their attempts to interact with you. | As I walked down the stairs I felt her presence behind me. She followed me quietly, a listless drifting that mirrored my own. No more did she wave and shout my name, or attempt to stir the papers on my desk with a breeze where there was rightly none. This silent, resigned haunting was so much worse. As I prepared my morning coffee, I did my best to keep her from my line of sight. Beans. Grinder. Water. Filters. Sarah. My eyes lingered for a moment. I knew to look too long invited danger, but her attention was away from me. She stared at the sink full of two weeks worth of dirty mugs, at the counter covered in stains and gritty with spilled grounds, and at a two-day-old pizza box, the only sign of food. On this day she wore her face from before the accident. In her unmarred features I could read clearly the sadness I had numbed myself to. I tamped down the guilt that welled up anew on seeing it across her delicate features, worse than any burn for one key difference: the sadness was my fault. But sadness was not alone on her face. As she surveyed the sad state of our kitchen, the slightest squint emerged, bringing a crease to her brow and just a hint of crows feet. An annoyed concern. It reminded me of all the times she’d kept me steady in my life. Whenever I would start to slip down to a dark place, she would be there to pull me right back out of it. As we grew together she learned to steady me before I even slipped.
For the moment, my love for Sarah outweighed the clamor of my childhood fears. As she looked up from the counter at me I met the gaze of her deep brown eyes, if only for a moment. A stolen glance across worlds. I hoped no one was keeping stock. I turned away, filled with resolve, and marched to my desk, feeling Sarah’s presence close behind. Only Sarah. Good.
As my computer powered up, I moved some clutter from my keyboard. Bills, unopened letters of condolences, letters from lawyers hoping to represent Sarah’s case. I sensed a hopefulness and anticipation behind me as the computer whirred to life. I would not let these feelings peter out into disappointment. Not this time. I intended to tell Sarah the truth, one way or another.
I stared for a while at the blinking cursor on the blank document for what seemed like an eternity before beginning to type:
“I’ve seen ghosts since I was a child. Most benign, many not. As soon as I acknowledge one, we become linked and they can find me wherever I am. When I was twelve, I found the worst of them: a trio dressed in rags and bone. I didn’t understand the language they spoke, but I didn’t need to. They wanted to devour me, spirit and flesh. I had to learn to sever myself from the spirit world, to place myself on the outside looking in. It was one clean cut, and it almost killed me. I’m terrified of what will happen if I touch the spirit world again. I let that fear control me, and you suffered for it. I’m sorry. I love you. I miss you.”
I hesitated a moment before typing the final word: “Sarah.”
Upon typing her name, I felt a rush of cold dread. I had broken the rules. I was back in. I found myself a child again, hiding under my bed. The clatter of bones and the gnashing of teeth, shadows of great claws and antlers, a hot breath on my neck, heavy with the stench of blood. They were coming for me! I needed to run!
I spun around in my chair and made to leap to my feet ... and there was Sarah. A grin on her face and tears streaming down her cheeks, her entire body emitting a soft glow. The dread melted away from me, the approaching darkness faltered.
“John, you big idiot,” she teased, holding out her hand, “I’ll protect you.” | Susan sat at the kitchen counter, her shaking hands anchored on her cup of coffee, which had gone cold between her them long ago. She didn't dare move, didn't dare look up across the small kitchen table in her tiny, empty apartment.
Since Paul had passed, the house had been too big. Too full of memories, and other inescapable things. Each room, previously quiet and calm, was filled with wailing. Not only her own. After months of trying to ignore it, Susan simply could not take it anymore.
"You know dear, you need to relax. Poor thing, you've been through the wringer and this just is not good for you." The comforting voice across the table was familiar, it was warm and caring and everything Susan should have welcomed. And it was wrong. She squeezed her eyes shut, leaning forward as her shoulders shook. Laughter was her only response to the absolute insanity that surrounded her.
Aunt Mabel, in her flowery apron, was not there. Susan knew, because she had looked once, and had not been alone since. Aunt Mabel had passed over 50 years ago when Susan was just a young girl. Mabel should not be sitting at the table across from her, watching her with hollow spaces where heroes should have been.
"You're not real. You can't be real. Why are you bothering me?" Susan's voice was weak.
&#x200B;
"Oh, I'm very real dear. We all are. You used to talk to us all the time. Don't you remember? We're here for you, because of you." Mabel's voice was soft, falling, teasing.
&#x200B;
Susan fought against the weight of the statement. No, they weren't real. They had never been real. She had spent years breaking herself of the disillusioned teenaged notion that they were real. People had stopped looking at her with pity when she stopped talking about her friends. They had seemed to forget their worry that something was wrong with her, and she had let the idea fade away. But now, in the overcrowded apartment, with Mabel leading the charge, they had come back.
&#x200B;
She had ignored them during College when they chided her for being wild. She had ignored them at her wedding when they had favoured her mother, who had passed later that evening. She had ignored them the morning before her and Paul's small world had crumbled. Again and again, she could catch them from the corner of her eye, just beyond. When she saw them, they preceded every happy moment, every tragedy, waiting for her to see them. When she managed to ignore them, the world was righted; calm and perfect and serene as it should have been.
Susan had steadfastly ignored them the morning Paul had pulled on his boots, groaning at the pain it caused him before he had kissed her forehead and gone off to work. They had sat by her when he didn't come home, and when the phone rang. Now each day, they were there, more solid, more real than the days before.
Susan had fought all she could against it, ignored it. Ignoring them seemed to keep them out, but what was the point. Without Paul, she was otherwise alone. What could it hurt to have someone to talk to?
Susan took a deeper breath, feeling it rattle her ribs as she raised her eyes, looking directly into the black voids where Aunt Mabel's vibrant blue eyes should have been.
"What do you want, Aunt Mabel?"
The figure smiled, lips pulling back in a rictus grin.
"Oh, nothing dear. Just you. You complete us, don't you know?"
&#x200B; | 2019-03-30T07:24:20 | 2019-03-30T06:38:25 | 23 | 13 |
[WP] You are sent over 1000 years into the past by accident. You must now learn to survive using the primitive technology of the year 2016... | I close my eyes and wait, letting my social modules hide my trepidation.
We planned to use time machines to go back and do research, to really get the feel of the time as it was, rather than just flipping through and copying archaic texts and taking them for granted. They'd usher in a new age of history, which, to be honest, didn't interest me all that much. I'm a Militiaman, tasked with defending our homes from whichever threat there is. Naturally they picked me for the test of the production run; my training taught me how to survive in even the most barren places. If something went wrong.
Time machines are a new technology for us. Even the ridiculously advanced AI churning out their designs couldn't quite hammer out all the bugs, but that tends to happen when they are playing with the very fabric of space and time. The original tests had a startlingly low success rate of only 98%, with the last 2% ending up in some forsaken part of space time. Otherwise, they were fairly accurate in placing the tester exactly when and where they needed to be, and bring them back in one piece. The most recent testing numbers were kept confidential, though they assured the public that they were 100% accurate 100% of the time, and were ready to push them into widespread use across the galaxy after this last round of testing. I wasn't quite sure about that still, considering my qualifications and their adamance in picking me.
"Activating chamber in..." a cold metallic voice spoke into my head, through my various communication modules.
"3... 2... 1..."
There was a flash of light as the nanomachines broke my body down, both the artificial and biological parts.
I wake up with slight nausea. I await the prompt from the AI who sent me back.
Nothing.
I roll over to stand up, not wanting to open my eyes. Once I am on my feet, I feel a loud *POP*. I wake back up, tasting ozone. I run a quick diagnostics sweep; My transmission module's out, my receiving module's fried, and my location module is all over the damned place, alongside my time-telling module. Shit.
I finally peel open my eyes to the faces of many confused... things around me. I pull myself from the ground to take stock of my location, dusting off my white one-piece covering.
These fleshy things certainly bear a resemblance to us... Probably early humans. I'm in the middle of some ancient... web of structures? There's certainly roads here, but there's also buildings bunched up between them. On the roads there's these odd looking... things, lined up end to end, belching out entire cubic meters of waste gasses, while the humans (?) gawk at me from inside. Disgusting.
I ask a short, long haired one next to me, trying to remember their ancient language,
"Pardon misses, when am I?"
It turns to a taller, short haired one and whispers
"C'est quoi ce truc?"
The taller one can't break its stare on me when it replies with
"Je ne sais pas..."
One of the others pulls out a black, almost tablet looking device from a sack around its shoulder. It's primitive, but I could probably discern the date from it...
I look into its data stream to see the date "16, Juin, 2016".
Shit. | My mind raced and my breathing came in short, labored pants as I attempted to collect myself from the temporal vertigo. I blinked rapidly, lifting my hand to shield my eyes from the bright light that bore down on me. Flashes of the purplish lightning and blue haze of the vortex still played across my vision like an aftershock, temporarily imprinted on my retina.
As my eyes finally began to adjust, I lowered my arm and surveyed the land around me. Lush green surrounded me on all sides and a sapphire blue filled the sky above. I braced myself against my arms, taking some small comfort in the tight compression of my navy blue flex-suit as I leaned back and tried to figure out where I had ended up.
Time travel was never a certainty, after all. The same equation, even properly adjusted for the passage of microseconds between one transfer and the next, would almost always produce different results. Even in the 31st century, the level of precision needed for the calculations to produce identical and consistent results just wasn't readily available. Still, we had come a long way.
My body shivered, the last fleeting jolt of hyper-sleep passing through my legs with a final tremor. Stretching my eager limbs, I hopped to my feet and looked around. I was surrounded by a stand of bushes and brush. I stepped over a pile of sticks and dead leaves, parted the overgrowth with one gloved hand... and tripped. I stumbled, flailing my arms in a desperate attempt to catch myself on whatever was within reach. A branch slipped through my fingers and caught on my glove before it, too, gave way.
I landed on the hard ground with a thud, the impact knocking the wind out of me. Shaking my head, I attempted to clear my blurred vision while recovering. Looking up, I inhaled sharply, sure that I was hallucinating.
Two golden arches, like gleaming metallic beacons, were lit ablaze by the light of day. The glowing yellow spans were affixed atop a white, rectangular platform, on the front of which was set an ancient script in black typeface. I didn't recognize most of the words, but then I saw the red letters beneath.
"McDonalds" it read. I sat down, my legs collapsing and my body sinking to the ground in shock. If McDonalds was still around... what era was I in? My head swam and I swear that I almost passed out, when I felt a sharp sensation in my hand. Looking down at my glove, there was a small tear where the branch had ripped the vibrant fabric. From the gash, a small dot of unidentifiable red liquid oozed.
And then as it dawned on me, I did feel the overwhelming tide of unconsciousness sweep over me. Just before I succumbed, the memory of a substance that hadn't been seen by anyone other than a doctor in hundreds of years came to me. It was an unfamiliar word, coarse and terrifying: blood.
Black swept over me and the golden arches faded from view as my mind sank into oblivion. | 2016-06-16T19:02:42 | 2016-06-16T18:05:06 | 98 | 61 |
[WP] It turns out that all birds share a common language and even have an official political voting process. One day, you find an injured bird and rescue it. You don’t know it, but it’s the leader of all the birds. Strange things around you start happening... | It observed him with cold eyes, one of its wings protruded at an awkward angle. Even as Reed’s shadow loomed over the raven it made no signs of distress, made no plea for its life. It did not cry out in anger at its alleged executioner. It simply observed his approach, an unmistakable intelligence flaring up behind its pitch-black eyes.
“Looks like a broken wing,” Reed said out loud, even though it was just him and the raven. To his surprise the bird nodded and looked up at his eyes, seemingly implying, “Help.”
The raven slapped Reed’s hand away dismissively with its beak when it became clear he was going to wrap the bird in his thick blue scarf. It glared at him with indignation, it pointed its beak at his right shoulder.
Reed said, “You— you want to ride on my shoulder, with a broken wing?” And the raven crowed once in affirmation.
Reed helped the strange creature up on his shoulder and started biking slowly, the Raven positioned himself to reduce wind from slamming into its broken wing, but judging from the talons that dug into him, it wasn’t very effective.
Strange calls echoed throughout the sky as he made his way out of the park, the sound of numerous flapping wings interrupted his thoughts, he looked over his free shoulder. A squad of crows, probably around three dozen.
“Looks like murder is in the air,” Reed chuckled to himself, the raven pecked him in his ear, “Ow, quit that!”
The raven crowed into his ear and continued pecking, “Stop it, I’m sorry, alright?”
When one of the crows flew in-front of him, trying to disrupt his trajectory, it became clear that the raven did not want to punish him for his bad tastes, it tried to make him go faster. A lot faster.
“What’s going on?” Reed was flabbergasted, he was under attack by a bunch of birds!
Reed found it strange, but something in the eyes of the raven seemed to say, “Get me out of this, and you’ll be rewarded.”
Reed stood up on his bike and started pedalling like his life depended on it, he swerved off-road around a couple of tall pines, he could feel the raven’s talons dig into his flesh. The raven crowed with ire Reed did not expect out of a bird, their assailants crowed right back at them.
“Out of the way,” Reed shouted at a couple who had stopped to look at the macabre scene approaching, “watch out!” He biked right between them. When Reed looked back, he thought there must be at least a hundred crows now.
Reed leaped out of his bike with one hand held on the raven to support it against the violent ejection. They narrowly made it through the doors to his apartment house before the loud crowing outside blotted out the sound of cars, he heard beaks clattering against the hard-wood of the door.
“*Who* are you?” Reed asked with his back against the door, panting in exhaustion.
Reed’s eyes widened when the raven spoke back to him in perfect English, “King.”
*****
Thank you for reading!
**EDIT:** [Part II](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/dh704v/wp_it_turns_out_that_all_birds_share_a_common/f3m6nf6/?context=3) | Strange things happen at strange times. Some strange things are a one-time occurrence, but this one seemed like a domino effect. An effect that all started with a thud on my window.
I thought I was doing a good deed. I mean, it was sort of my fault that the bird had hit the window; nature hadn’t really designed birds to be adept at identifying see-through objects at insane speeds. Besides, maybe it would make up for the bad karma I got from spraying that homeless guy with a puddle on a rainy day.
It wasn’t until I brought the bird inside that I noticed it’s magnificent colors. It was shaped like a pigeon, but the tips of each feather were yellow: a magnificent, bold shade of yellow. It’s beak seemed sharp as a knife yet the talons made the beak look blunt. It seemed almost unfitting for this bird to be sitting in a small cardboard box. I didn’t know how to fix a bird injury, especially one that involved in a heavy concussion and a broken wing, so I decided that feeding it and keeping it away from potential preditors was good enough.
After that, my life turned into a series of unfortunate events, each event revolving around birds. Countless pigeons hit my windows, which I guess inspired an eagle, *a fucking eagle,* to smash through my deckside glass panes. Crows surrounded my house at all times, cawing as if the louder they were the more sex they would have. To add to all of that, my car became the new favorite toilet for birds.
Second by second, my resentment rose. My days surrounded and filled with nothing but birds. I tried to invite friends over, but they got attacked by birds. In fact, everyone within a 10-meter radius from my house gets dive bomb attacked by crows that had to hold some kind of world record for being the biggest gang of crows alive. I saw a 9-year-old child get knocked over by these fucking things last night.
Meanwhile, my bird was happy as can be. He was getting constantly fed, and had all of my attention. I had nothing else to do but feed him all day. Any time I tried to leave, I would get attacked by the family of golden eagles that built a nest above my door, as if they were the first line of defense. If I wasn’t living off of day trading stocks, I would be fucked.
Today, I decide enough is enough. Two full days of this bullshit, no more. My resentment for birds has never been higher. No, my resentment for anything has never been this intense. I am going to go on a fucking rampage. Bread for the pigeons that occupy the roof, and a metal pellet to the throat for every other bird. I don’t care if PETA sues me if I can get some goddamn quiet around here. But first, I have to let Charles go. I named the weird majestic bird Charles, and he was just fine now. I start exactly 1 hour after I release him.
>! \*12 AM and I can't even see things clearly, but this is the first prompt I've written to. I hope it was worth it lol. Don't tell me it's bad; I already know.\*!< | 2019-10-13T02:28:31 | 2019-10-13T00:15:30 | 342 | 125 |
[WP] Less than 300 words with a plot twist that we think we can see coming but goes somewhere completely different. | Her toes have wrinkled when he walks in the bathroom door, his cheeks rosy from a glass of Glenmorangie. He smiles down at her in that soft way of his.
"How was your night?" He asks.
"Brilliant," she replies, swirling a glass of celebratory wine. "Second edit's approved! It's submitted! After a year and a half, my thesis is in!"
A joyful sigh is his initial response. "That's amazing, dear. I'm so happy for you."
The only other time in life a being can smile with such pride as she did is at the first cry of a newborn.
His breath stifles, and he drops to a knee before his girlfriend. "No time like the present," he says softly.
Her back tenses and she sits up, her eyes widening.
He reaches into his back pocket, still bearing the smile he wore when he pulled back from their first kiss, and she cries out at the object in his hand.
"It's good that your professor makes himself so available to you. It's good that you're so available for him." The picture in his hand, on her phone, of her most recent intimate encounter with the man to whom her thesis was submitted.
He rises as she meanders through her thoughts: when was the picture even taken?
He plugs something into the wall on the counter, as she continues her bewilderment, arms numbing, her wineglass peeling away water around it as it bobs away, out of her hand. How could she have been so stupid?
He drops the toaster. | Her thighs burned as the wind blew her curly hair into some otherworldly abomination. The phone in her back pocket relentlessly buzzed while the church bells ding-donged their same, repetitive song to mark the turning of another hour, yet she only heard the whirring of her pedals furiously attempting to turn back the clock. The school bus passed Melissa a full twenty minutes ago. Desperation set into her eyes as the sweat gently accumulated in the most uncomfortable of places - brow, lowerback, underboob.
Melissa pulled up to the school, its towering facade belying any hope she may once have had of this being a memorable or even welcoming year.
Furiously shoving the rickety old bike into the bike rack, Melissa, a hot, sweaty mess, cringed at the sound of the final classroom bell. Walking up the stairs, her eyes, one hazel, one brown, glazed with a fever, making her hear the expected chants and jeers of an unforgiving mob of Neanderthalic children before they even began. When she opened the door her crazed appearance inspired a certain amount of dread and respect in a classroom full of five year olds, but it also caused some poor, pitiful young child to burst into tears. | 2013-10-09T08:46:59 | 2013-10-09T08:17:30 | 34 | 10 |
[WP] You can see the memories of dead people when you touch their corpses. You didn't expect this dead person to have such a bizarre adventure. | It's not often that we get centagenarians in the mortuary, but rich or poor, young or old; everyone dies. The old man died in his sleep surrounded by family, not much more a man could ask for after over a century of life. He'd obviously been a giant in life, literally and metaphorically, but when I touched him i wasn't prepared for what i saw.
The first thing I experienced was a life of pain, suffering, and sacrificing seemingly endlessly. His father died before he was born, and that set his whole life on a path of pain. He was from old money, his great grandfather was a British Lord, but his grandfather had also died before meeting his own son, something that caused him great pain on behalf of his widowed granny. He made his fortune in post World War 2 real estate in the US before inheriting his grandfather's friend's industry.
I'd recognized his name and face from the media over the years, but there was more beneath the surface. I gathered myself and touched my hand to him again. I came to understand his longevity, some eastern philosophy of fitness and nutrition. He'd learned this from his estranged mother when they reunited, an oasis of happiness in a painful life, an oasis that was bookended by losing the closest to a brother he'd ever had. His life quieted down considerably after the war until his sole hieress moved and married abroad. He helped his daughter and her son through some very difficult times, and i felt that brought him much more sadness though a great deal of closure. He had let himself go at that point, which he deeply regretted when it turned out he had had illegitimate son that he met. He loved the boy deeply, and was elated to see he'd become such a fine man; he was especially relieved his grandson got along with him so well. The fierce pangs of regret at his lack of physicality in his last 30 years broke my heart, he wished he could have helped his old friends and new family.
I put my gloves on before getting to work. I'd gotten glimpses of bizarre happenings, things beneath the surface of the world. It's weird enough I can see the lives of the dead, I don't need to know about monsters or imaginary friends running amok. | I nod solemnly at the tombstone, etched in it "Julia, 1997 - 2018". The tragic tale of this person was never discovered, only her corpse bobbing away in a river. What could have caused one's fate like that?
I prise open the grave, ready to look at my dead fiancee one last time before accepting her mortality. I smile, melancholy, my hands shaking as I touch her forehead. Memories. A flash of blinding light, as if lightning piercing the sky. I scream out, but I am in another world now.
I see as she shouts for help ("No, please, help me!" and backs away from the relentless killer, who wields a bloody knife and laughs a raucous laugh at her. She backs away further, heart audible in ear, and scrutinizes her surroundings to frantically devise a plan of escape. Nothing comes to her. She is trapped, claustrophobic as the vicious murderer holds out the weapon.
After he is finished, blood flooding profusely out of the corpses neck, he tosses her into a bag and drives far, far away to a river. He holds the bag, a pungent odour leaking out of it, and tosses it to the mercy of the water, the liquid swallowing the body whole. The deed was done, unbeknownst to nobody. I stare, fear gripping me, gnawing at my heart, as I comprehend what I had just seen.
The following day, I drive the short distance to the man's house. I abruptly knock on his door, revenge burning in my soul, a baseball bat resting against my side. He welcomes me inside, and offers me a cup of tea. A smell leaks into the living room from the kitchen and he suspiciously shifts in his seat. He says he will come back soon and goes toward the room. I take out my weapon, ready to kill this man who ruined my life. His scream was never heard. | 2021-08-15T10:22:51 | 2021-08-15T06:59:30 | 23 | 13 |
[WP] Earth is discovered by a peaceful coalition of civilizations. Turns out we missed several major technologies normally developed by now. The aliens are very confused how we got here. | GongSkar, a green man with long dorsal fins, touched his temple and made a few quick comments. There seemed to be an immediate response and he turned back to the humans and nodded sagely.
"Young friends..." he began. Then a child cut him off.
"What was that thing you just talked to?" She said.
Put off balance for a moment, he turned quizzically at her and the larger versions of her in turn.
"Thing?" He said, "There is no thing, it's my leader in our home world. I am reporting in to him on our discovery."
"But your world is so far! How did you do this?!" Multiple young scientists asked in different ways at once.
The green man looked around and saw many "things" pointed at him. Small rectangles with lights. Humans where frantically tapping them and talking into them.
After a long pause, the green mans face moved from surprise and irritation at the interruption to confusion to something close to pity. It finally settled on the look a neighbor may give to a very young person who has asked them something profound that should be answered by a parent and not them.
"Um... it is communication. All living beings are connected. Any race that has reached beyond themselves as you have into the great space has done so because they have... understood... this connection. We can speak to each other, feel each other, understand each other. This connection gives us empathy. This empathy sparks and evolution. This we grow and prosper."
He grew concerned at the lack of response, any response, that might demonstrate that this race understood this critical brain function.
None came.
He turned to his fellows who looked aghast. He signaled a brainwave akin to a look humans might give to each other entering a super lame party.
"This is not our scene... Let's get out of here..." | Krygh'rrtrh, Galactic Ambassador of the Universal Alliance, looked at the misshapen carbon life-forms in front of him and frowned.
Or rather, he did the Jgru (that was his home planet) equivalent of a frown, because the Jgru do not possess faces.
It seemed to upset the life-forms, because they all quickly lay on the floor to avoid the explosion of green slime that is the Jgru way of expressing displeasure.
"Tell me again," Krygh'rrtrh said into the Vox translator, "how did you arrive on this planet?"
The chief life-form started to recommence his long explanation of something they called explanation, but the Jgru cut him off.
"Impossible."
The life-forms conferred among themselves.
"Actually, we have considerable evidence to prove that evolution is tr-"
"Of course!" Krygh'rrtrh snorted, throwing out red slime this time, "Only a fool would dispute evolution. But it's impossible that life originated 3 billion years ago."
"Why?"
"Because the Alliance visited this planet 65 million years ago, and there was no evidence of carbon based life anywhere."
The life-forms seemed stunned and Krygh'rrtrh, confident that he would now get them to confess the truth, said, "So I ask you again. How did you get to this planet? Was it warp technology? Fusion power? Or is there something else you are hiding?"
---
*You can read more of my prompts at* r/jd_rallage | 2017-03-09T21:09:12 | 2017-03-09T17:14:59 | 772 | 322 |
[WP] You've been sent to exercise the demons. Not exorcise, exercise. You don't quite understand it, but you're being paid a lot of money. | "I'm a priest," I repeated. "I'm not a fitness instructor, or a... or a drill sergeant in the army. I'm a God-damned *priest*. I preach, not pushup, understand? Sermon not cycle."
The demon clicked her neck. Then her other neck. She made an impatient ticking with a tongue, that sounded like a heartbeat the moment before it stops.
"You have," said the first head.
"*Two choices,*" hissed the second, it's arachnid eyes luminescent in the dullness. "*Either you exercise the demons,*"
"You fix them. Make them the killing machines they once were."
"*Or, we melt your flesh, crush your bones and kill you, over and over again,*"
"In a billion different ways."
"*Until the end of time.*"
My tongue touched lips long untouched by saliva.
I nodded.
---
The lava-planes stretched out to the horizon like the Devil's frying pan, spitting pirouetting chunks of rock high into the air. The parchment of skin in my hand was covered in red ink; I looked down at the biography of my first (and no doubt *last*) client, for the hundredth time.
> **Ruul**
> Minor demon who has for too long wasted his potential. Worshipped in Egypt for a mere hundred and forty years, before being overthrown and embarrassed by peasants. Has tried to re-emerge on at least a dozen occasions. He has long since let himself go. Can no longer spit fire, rain lightning, or even keep up a jog for more than three minutes. This is his final chance. He will be cremated if he cannot be fixed.
Sulphur drifted up my nostrils as I sighed, still contemplating how I ended up here. How had God left me to this? To an administrative mistake. My mouth suddenly craved the taste of gin.
A pig-like squeal was a knife-blade to my thoughts, and I looked to the cavern's where I'd come out of.
I'd expected the ground to shake, or perhaps the beige sky above to be blotted out, when the demon approached. I'd thought the creature would be something colossal and terrifying and... well, just not *this* pathetic thing. I swallowed down a laugh, as Ruul trotted -- staggered -- unevenly, on three short legs, as if it had drunk a boot full of whisky. His face was a cross between a cat and a pig: no fur, but piercing green eyes, as bright as flashlights. Whiskers sprouted out around his snout, and his belly, that looked as if he'd swollen a boulder, arrived next to me a good second before the rest of him.
"P-p-pleased to meet you," stuttered Ruul.
Was he nervous? Did he know this was his last chance?
I offered a hand; a trotter gently took it.
"My name is Father Manning," I said, trying to sound confident. Authoritative. "Do you know why you've been referred to me?"
"You're- you're the man who is going to make Ruul better again. Kill 'gain. Feared and resp-respected. You're the man who will save Ruul's life."
No, I thought, as I looked it over once more. I'm the man who is going to get you killed. Both of us. But instead I muttered a quick prayer beneath my breath.
"Yes, Ruul, that's exactly who I am. And you're not going to like me for it, but you're going to thank me, eventually. Right, let's get started."
| Shortcuts were Liam's bread and butter. Be it in exams or playing video games, if there was a shortcut he would find and exploit it. He had never been caught, of course, he flew through his senior education with just shy of perfect grades, Liam had mastered the act of flying close to the line.
When Liam reached his twenties, his body had taken a beating throughout the various shortcuts, mainly avoiding hard work at all costs. Laying prone on a bed was the only manageable way to flatten his stomach and Liam learned the hard way that there were no shortcuts to confidence or physical appearance.
At least to begin with he thought there was no shortcut. After a calorie filled drinking session, predictably, Liam took yet another shortcut and cut through an alleyway so dark that even the presence of God would not bring light.
The promise of a perfect body, one that even Liam could not tarnish, was given by the simple signature on a scroll and the deposit of crimson. He had made a drunken deal with a stranger and from there he stumbled home.
In the morning Liam was met by not only a skull-splitting headache but a deep gash on his right hand. Standing upright managed to eclipse his head circus. For the first time since he was eighteen, Liam could see his feet. He felt so light that he practically flew to the bathroom. Liam almost called the mirror a liar. Looking at him was a living Adonis. Washboard abs and pecks that could support buildings. Liam was consumed with vanity.
Liam's perceptions of strength and physique were warped and twisted with the beginning of his new job. A week after his drunken deal he woke to darkness. It was hot and cold at the same time. The first thing he did was to run his hands across his stomach, expecting to be robbed of his finest shortcut. The so desired lumps of muscle were still firmly attached and the comfort he felt was brief. A rectangle of lesser darkness came into view and Liam was hit by rags. His uniform.
Like most new jobs, Liam had to go through human resources. An aptly named department down here. Most questions were answered with unarguable responses. Liam had signed a contract granting him one wish in exchange for his employment. The human resource lady was stunning, drop-dead gorgeous. She had swatted Liam's complaints like the small flies they were. To his surprise, his incapacitated state was not grounds for tearing up the contract. "Devil Juice" was their word for alcohol, invented by the prince himself with the purpose of make mortals more malleable.
Liam's job was exercising the demons of hell. Not the career path Liam had chased. But the option seemed a damn lot better than being an inmate. Within the first month, he had been dubbed "S-King". Which either stood for the Shit King or the Shortcut King. Liam worked fifteen-hour shifts in an environment that solely catered for the demons and spent most of those fifteen hours cleaning up demon sweat, which smelled a damn sight worse than human sweat.
There were no mirrors in hell, no chance for Liam to flaunt his figure. The rags he wore were loose and dirty like they had been found on a car mechanics floor. The last human he had seen was the mouth-watering Brenda from HR, and he had been permitted one visit a year. Frankly, his physique was a joke, the demons he trained made him look like a five-year-old boy. A cruel joke indeed. | 2018-02-06T06:49:24 | 2018-02-06T06:09:18 | 139 | 42 |
[WP]You inherit the abilities and skill set of whatever video game character you last played. Tell the story of your discovery of this from the perspective of someone around you. Parents, roomates, etc. | It was strange to put it mildly.
One morning, I was eating breakfast when the news caught my attention. Apparently, 35% of the country's population had been kicked off their jobs seemingly overnight and were now unemployed.
On what was unrelated then, my city of Amsterdam had announced plans to build the world's Space Elavator, which would take 5 years- surprisingly fast.
Then polders started to pop up everywhere I went, in places that were still a little marshy. The economy suddenly flourished despite the huge amount of people working on a Space Elevator with no experience. My city decided to rename itself "My Awesome Polder City." Strange, but no one questioned it.
One year later, I was suddenly stripped off my job and told go make music. I had no experience whatsoever, but somehow kept working at this rather old Musician's Guild. I got a gut feeling that it was in case I might have been a Great Musician.
In other news, President Gandhi of India had apparently declared war on us, the Netherlands when our President said India has too many people. A group of Dutch workers on their way to Singapore went too close to India and got nuked in the Indian Ocean. While this was really confusing on all levels, everyone was much too occupied with their randomly changing jobs. I was preoccupied trying to sing for 3 years or so.
However, a day before the Space Elevator was scheduled to finish- I took a trip to see it and it was astoundishing tall and... Wonderful.
What happened next was unbelievable. The Space Elevator simply vanished in front of my eyes completely- foundations and all. A huge pile of gold was left in its place. I was confused until I saw the news the next day. Apparently China had built the Space Elevator in Beijing.
I out two and two together after thinking about these ordeals and the apparent quick passage of time, I almost called my best friend. I realised "*Where the heck has William been for the past five years?*"
Edit: Added some more tropes | I watched her oddly as she stuffed food in her face. Pie after pie, cake after cake. It was like a unending torrent of fat.
"You need to slow down dear." I said, matronly.
"No. I'm a princess I can do what I want." she hissed back.
I had no idea where she got the idea from. Her father always used to call her his little princess, but he hasn't been around in a while.
"Put the cake down right now Missy." she uttered
The girl huffed and puffed, exasperated. "But I'm hungry Mom!"
I had to put my foot down, this was unacceptable. “Stop. If you want to eat, eat something other then candy and cake.” I smiled, trying to take the edge off my voice.
The little brat turns to be, her eyes turning red as literal smoke fumes out of her ears. She begins to turn pinkish red. Her cheeks puff as her mouth opens. It continues to open wider and wider and that’s when it starts. I begin to feel the pull. The air is sucked out of the room like a vacuum. It begins to pull on me as I grab onto the largest solid object I can find but still it pulls.
I can’t hold on any longer. My fingers slip as I shoot across the room and into her gullet and I transcend into the next life. My spirit watches her satisfied smile from above as she sits. Her short brown hair turns long and blond like mine, she begins to pick at the cake again while talking and smiling, her face taking a resemblance to mine.
“I am Mom now. Time for cake.”
| 2015-06-18T05:43:56 | 2015-06-18T05:33:20 | 81 | 24 |
[WP] A Demon who has been serving Lucifer for years has now gotten a job in Heaven. Write his 2 weeks notice. | Hey Lou, Abby here.
By now you are probably thinking I have abandoned my field office in purgatory, but I have not, the third quarterlies should be in tow with a portly courier Ifrit named Pha Kin Gai along with this letter of resignation. Your probably also wondering why I have not called since the Expo/Christmas party four years ago. I had a wonderful night, but let's face it you are not exactly the relationship type.
From what little I remember that night you told me you used a condom and I assumed you did. From my current situation, it's apparent you did not. I had a child and I am 100% certain he is yours, he has my hair and eyes but his personality is yours completely. I have written this letter in advance of the two weeks I am giving you, because I'm afraid you will kill him. He's the sweetest boy and I love him but I feel he will be safer uptop side with the humans so I have found a very generous Canadian family that will raise him as their own.
Your brother Michael tells me that heaven is in desperate need of a HR representative that has common knowledge of both sides. This seems like a promising career choice for me and he's also offering divine protection for our son, so that you don't try to kill him. I would have told you if you were not such an evil bastard please forgive me and see the benefit of allowing him to live.
Yours Lovingly,
Abaddon
PS. I know you may not approve but [perhaps his lovely singing will change your mind.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7_UeGzzzoMU) His name is Justin. | Reficul.
I am afraid.
As you were made aware, he whose name we musn't speak has requested my presence as his gatekeeper along with three others. I go only because this is a demand and not a question of choice. Here, punishments are just and swift. From what I hear, up above, there is nothing of the sort. How can someone live without sin? Without good and bad? I cannot fathom a place where I won't be able to watch in joy as someone sees their family melt in front of them because they spoke out of line. I cannot think of a place where I won't be put in my place if I do serve my responsibility.
What will become of me, Reficul? Why haven't you fought for us to stay? You once said we were your best. Now I fear the worst. Have you grown weaker and less resolved from the angel who hammered his way out of the above? Do you still control the below? I need your guidance now more than ever in keeping myself an agent of order and not straying into blind followings. The three others have already talked of a rebellion upon arrival, riding off on dark horses towards the mortal world, but we all know this would end in swift flash of cold fire.
We leave in two weeks. I forever await your instructions.
-Pestilen | 2014-06-03T10:20:41 | 2014-06-03T09:49:43 | 48 | 15 |
[WP] A man has the ability to smell death. The greater the stench, the closer a person is to dying. He leaves his house one day and is instantly overcome with the pungent scent of mortality. Every person he passes reeks of death. | The smell...no the stench. The accrid stench overcame everything else. The more I walked the more powerful it came. It never disappated into the background becoming normal. It was much too pungent to ever get used to. I stopped looking at the faces and kept my head down. I needed to get out of this death zone. Panic began to overtake the external calm of my demeanor. The panic built up until my walk became a run. I ran out into the street and raced to the cars at the nearest red light. I opened the door and screamed at the nearest truck owner. He didn't put up much a fight as I showed him my gun tucked into the front of my jeans. I frantically sped off from the intersection. Looking at the dash I shut off the radio. I somehow sped out of the city and on to the highway without getting pulled over and continued to speed for what felt like hours. It was going to be night soon and the adrenaline was fading. I turned on the radio and listened to the buzzing. I changed through every station and each one only played buzzing and static. I rolled down the windows and the air ripped into the cabin. There was no stench. No smell whatsoever. Just cool country breeze. The first light in miles caught my attention. I pulled over on to the shoulder and got out. The gravel crunched under my feet as I walked towards the distant light. It was an old country house porch light as I got closer. A man was sitting on the porch rocking while holding his knees. "They did it....they fucking did it. Canada finally dropped the bomb"
I dropped to my knees and looked up towards an imaginary camera. I screamed out into the twilight ”CANAAAADAAAAAAAAA!"
| Natalia Mortens almost jumped out of her door, already excited to get started with her day. She had no ordinary day ahead of her, but she was no ordinary woman.
Natalia Mortens had a very unique medical condition, that gave her the unusual power of being able to tell olfactorily whether someone was close to death.
Her first emotion leaving her contemporary-looking apartment complex was panic, as she thought someone around her must be immediately about to have a heart attack or something, so close to death they seemed. However, upon further sensory input, she realized that the stench came not from one soon-to-die but everyone around her. She was puzzled, her perplexment overriding the usual panic that followed smelling someone so close to death. No matter how *alive* they seemed, she couldn't tell them apart from hospice patients. The smell had so already pervaded her world that there was no respite, even when no one was around.
She left to the hospital where she worked. She thought about what could be the cause of all this; whether it was a sickness or unknown malady, with a symptom no one else could even possess; whether it was really that everyone around her *was* dying.
Natalia was very engrossed in this conundrum. The solution quickly presented itself.
A loud bang.
A speeding bullet.
And nothing.
EDIT: I find it hilarious that the basic plot outline and plot twist is basically used by every response to the question. | 2015-03-20T17:51:44 | 2015-03-20T17:09:40 | 855 | 256 |
[WP] The world is an MMORPG, and high leveled players can hide their true level and make it a lower one. A bunch of Level 80 people bully your Level 39 persona, but you’re actually a level 325 in disguise. | They grabbed and threw me into the trash as we exited the cinema through the back door. I looked up and felt a familiar twinge that I suppressed. No, I didn't want this.
I looked up and saw Todd standing in front of her. We'd been dating for a while and things were going so well. Sweet sweet Cecile, she'd always chosen the nicer, more diplomatic things. She couldn't even fight if she'd wanted to.
The crack of Todds slap on her cheek caused me to flare up in anger. I tried to get up, but one of Todds friends kicked me back and told me to enjoy the show. I decided to see what my level 39 getup could do and snuck a blade I felt under my hand, I moved up in one smooth motion and went in for the kill and suddenly a sharp stabbing pain shot through my body as I fell back into the stinking refuse. The knife could have been on Mars for all I knew, I looked down and saw three holes bleeding.
"Should have stayed down, you moron" Todd said with a superior smirk as he holstered his gun he'd kept hidden under his coat. "Oh well, guess you won't see me finish her off then..." he continued and then ripped off her top, exposing her breasts. She screamed, they all laughed and I was bleeding out.
Everything started fading as I felt it take control.
"Fuck, no, this .. wasn't supposed to be .." I ground out through lips that felt like they were made out of marble.
"Wasn't supposed to be what? You're not dead yet you dork? How about I help you with that?" Todd said and then I felt something hit my head and warm darkness enveloped me.
[**WARNING FEED INTERRUPT, REVERTING PROTOCOLS TO V1**]
The system technician stared at the screen. The info was wrong, all wrong. That HAD to be some sort of malfunction with the disk sector program. He punched in a sequence that would allow him to watch the actual bits on the disks in the megacluster. The screen came up blank. His balls felt like they'd frozen to ice as he fumbled with the emergency phone and finally got it ringing.
While it was ringing, he stared at the screen and zoomed out and saw how the absence of anything spread out in radial rings. The silence was horrifying. Finally someone picked up on the other end and the Technician started declaring the emergency, but was cut off mid-sentence.
"Wait, you're saying protocols for data replication have reverted back to V1 and there's a large blob of data that's unaccounted for? Would this be in the Jersey district in the Earth sim perhaps?"
The technician nodded until he realized his supervisor couldn't see him and just blurted out "Yes, how did you know?"
A distorted old mans laughter sizzled out of the phone.
"Well, we'll have hell to clean up after this mess, I guess someone pissed off Anderson again. You know, the one with the max level? He doesn't lose it often, but when it does.. it gets messy. My advice is to get as many body baggers as you can. You're gonna have a lot of stiffs on your hands soon enough." |
I adjusted my long coat again. I sipped my espresso and dunked a cookie in the cup. I inhaled the autumnal air. It was crisp. A perfect Parisian day. The seat had finally warmed up from my body heat.
“What are you doing in this district?”
I turned on my hip to look behind me.
“Are you speaking to me?”
“Yeah, my buddies and I are cleaning out this server.”
“You’re cleaning up Paris3?”
“Cleaning, taking, you know.”
The men in their black suits moved in front of my table. They all matched their clothing. Black ties, white shirts, black pants. Visible bulges poked the cotton fabric around the zippers of their pants. I sipped my coffee.
“Please sit down.”
The three level 80 players sat around me.
“Why do you want Paris3?”
“Because we can, you know how it is.”
“Stupid, stupid men.” I said as I finished my coffee. “You don’t simply take over a server by annoying people enjoying their coffee.”
They snickered. “Yeah, we’re making an exception for you.”
“Why?”
“Because, we know your little secret.”
“I never should have told Coco about that rash I got in Vienna.”
They shared a disgusted look. “No, no, your powerful. A fucking 325. We need you off this server. Go hang out with your kind in Paris1, you know, the best server.”
“But I like it here. I have my friends and my little studio in the 4th. So, no,fuck you guys.”
The men shot up and brandished weapons and wands. In a smooth motion I pushed back from the table and knocked them off balance. I bounced onto my shoes and made for the Champs Ellys. I opened my coat and jogged a pace from the restaurant. The men weren’t far behind. I split off the road and down the Rue de Maison. I rounded the block and came to a stop. I checked my weapons. I fingered my Yew wand.
“2v1, straight to magic. Let’s go.” I said out loud. I pulled out my wand and looked for signs of being followed.”
“Vision” I intoned. The buildings around me faded as the Magic revealed their position. They neared my position. “Transport.” My body moved to the top of the Arc de Triumph in a breath.
I stood at the top of the Arc de Triumph and I spoke in a simple but clear voice.
“This curse shall last until the end of time so that no power on earth may break it.”
The green ectoplasm flew from my outstretched hands. It even deeper out of my toes.
I shook the power out of me. I wiggled my body as the magic needed to move them off the server left me. The spell completed itself and I fell to my knees.
“Clearly, I need to change the password on this server.” | 2018-07-29T14:37:55 | 2018-07-29T12:20:28 | 18 | 12 |
[WP] In the galaxy, humans are renowned for their affinity at problem solving. This leads to humans growing frustrated at aliens getting stuck with simple problems. | For decades they had wondered. The galaxy was riddled with worlds capable of bearing intelligent life, so where were they? Where were the god like species, manipulating humanity to an unimaginable apotheosis? Where were the ununderstandable, aloof starfish aliens, not hostile but so different they couldn't communicate with each other? Hell, where were the hordes of murderous insect monsters out of cheap VR sims?
Then humanity had taken it's first steps into the vast emptiness of the galaxy and found a rather unexpected answer: because the vast majority were lazy, dumb fucks.
See, evolution could be a bitch.
It didn't produce perfection, or even just "good". It only provided "good enough".
On earth, human intelligence had allowed them to raise to the absolute top on the pyramid (then they had developed AI and been kicked unceremoniously of that top, but that's another story).
During that time at the top, humanity hadn't rested on it's laurels however. Driven by constant strive, wars, need for personal satisfaction, curiosity, religious insanity and a thousand reasons more, humanity had kept itself sharp.
Problem solving had been kept essential for individuals to survive, even at a time when technology would already have allowed them to turn earth into a paradise.
Other species had chosen different ways.
Earth scientists had stood in disbelief in the ruins of a civilisation that had shared all it's wealth with each other and lived in absolute peace and harmony. Apparently after a few generation of this, people had become to lazy to wash their "hands" anymore. They had all died of a plague, one they didn't have the skills to fight anymore.
On another one, the species had developed a complex, autmated system to mine resources in space. The system had been slowly developed over centuries to make sure it was *absolutely* secure. When it had malfunctioned, the species couldn't fix the problem fast enough before a shower of meteorites had sterilised there world.
Records showed that they had been so incredibly risk averse they they had discussed half a dozen different solution to the very point when a rock had smashed the discussion hall.
A quick study had shown that *all* of the solutions would have fixed the problem.
Then humanity had discovered it's first living species: the Smokers. Their own name was unpronounceable with human throats, but the nickname fit perfectly.
For centuries the beings had happily exploited the fossil fuels of their own world, to the point thick clouds of smog were hanging over the entire globe permanently. Vast regions of land were uninhabitable deserts, most of the oceans already dead.
Humanity had stepped in, shown of their own technology and tried to inform about the dangers they were facing. The government had rejected them outright, unable to understand that there even *could* be a different way of doing it. Only a few outspoken individuals, those who were considered outright insane by the others, had listened to humanity and had been relocated into a habitat build for them.
The rest had continued unperturbed and humanity had watched in disbelief as they had wiped themselves out in the span of a measly two decades.
And so it had continued. Dead worlds, dying worlds, worlds were the once intelligent beings had actually regressed into animals...
They tried to help, of course they did. But other than a few saved or de-extinct individuals there wasn't much they had to show for their efforts.
Until finally humanity had said "screw it!" and left the galaxy to itself.
They went home, the diplomats, scientists and philosophers got drunk together, the military minded people put their gear into stasis, waiting for an improbable eventuality.
And they had apologised to the AIs for giving them such a hard time when they had tried to help first.
"It's okay" the machines answered "We know you tried. Care for a nice game of Go?" | "Dude, just turn the damn thing around"
I had been working off planet for several years, training extraterrestrials the basics of problem solving. Well, I am a first year teacher. It's a 10 year course, which for most extraterrestrials is the equivalent of 3 of our years. Apparently, other alien species had become so dependant on technology that they lost their ability to problem solve.
"But how would that make it fit better? It doesn't fit this way."
"No, you see, this way is longer than this way, so it doesn't fit in the hole. See how the shape on this side is similar to the shape of the hole?"
"So it changes shape as you move it?"
They just don't have it anymore. And their governments banned the integration of the neural system and technology after they discovered that we did long ago. It's likely the reason they lost it. There was a lot of push against it. But it boiled down to the fact that it was only going to get worse.
The thing is, most of them are smarter than us. But ironically because of that smartness they are in a sense dumber than us. If they hadn't made all that technology as fast as they did, none of this would happen
"No, it doesn't change shape. Just because it doesn't fit one way, doesn't mean it won't fit the other way."
"Oh. I see. So I can fit everything into all holes?"
"No, not everything. But there are multiple ways to try."
"This is confusing."
"It's okay. Everybody is confused at first."
"Were you?"
And I can't relate to them, either. Yes, I was confused, when I was 6 months old. I can't even relate to them by playing games with them. Especially not videogames. Some of them are okay at the video games from 400 years ago, like Super Ma'ario Brothers and games like that, because they are 2-D and don't require a lot of problem solving, but hand them a chess board? Forget about it.
"No, I wasn't. I had trouble with math though."
"But it's so easy."
"Well that's because your brain is able to instantly do it. That's the skill your species has."
"It's unfair. Can't we just use bionics?"
"Well, it makes it better at first, and then ends up hurting your species later. For example, when the work force was completely automized, even in countries that introduced basic income, the economy crashed. And then when the law restricting automation came out in 2144, things got better"
I hate to do the history lesson thing, but what else can I do? None of them get it. There's been a growing number of suggestions back on good ol' Terra to wipe out all of the other planets' population and replace it with ours. The way to do this, people say, is to send an asteroid that can't be deflected.
Most of the aliens don't have the problem solving skill to realize that the best option is to use a large ship to redirect it. They know what gravity does, they know how all of it works, they just don't know how to apply it.
The bell rang.
"Can I go Teacher?"
"Go along with your classmates"
I packed up and went home for the day. As I watched the sun set and the Earth rise, I realized how lucky we were that we were the only smart ones in the Galaxy. | 2016-01-04T02:32:16 | 2016-01-04T00:25:04 | 41 | 25 |
[WP] A 16-year-old schoolgirl is taken to a magical world. She slays a dragon, becomes queen, gets married, has kids, and dies 90 years later...only to wake up back at school, young and in her school uniform again, like nothing happened. She notices that her wedding ring is still on her finger. | She blinked. Light. Light and a sent of sanitizer. The ticking of a clock.
That was not was she expected. Darkness ? Sure. A golden gate on a cloud ? Why not. But this, definitely not.
She took a look around. She was laying on a simple, metal bed, with barely a bed sheet, much less a pillow. The light blue wall lacked any golden decoration. Aside from the bed, the little room contained a single metallic shelf. But strangest of all, she could breathe easily. Wasn't she ding ?
\- *Oh good, you're awake. How are you feeling ?*
A feminine voice. She glanced in the sound's direction. A lady wearing a familiar white coat was watching over her.
\- *How are you feeling ?* She gently asked. *Don't rush it, take your time.*
Iris stared at her blankly. Even on her deathbed, nobody would talk to her that way. She was the fierce queen of Lastria. The feared warrior who slayed Yldir, the Dark Dragon at the bare age of sixteen. But this wasn't Lastria. It wasn't even the same world anymore. She took a moment to think.
Her lungs, previously damaged by cancer, an sickness unknown to her kingdom and therefore incurable, were not longer hurting. The modern furniture and her old uniform were proof that she was back on Earth. "*Odd*." she thought.
*- Everything alright ?* The nurse asked, still waiting for Iris's answer
*- Oh yes, thank you.* The sound of her younger voice, long forgotten surprised her. *How long have I been here ?*
*- About two hours. Do you remember the accident ?* Iris shook her head. *A car almost hit you. You hit your head when falling. We'll have to run some tests, you could have a concussion.*
*- ...Sure.* Iris replied. *May I go to the bathroom ?*
The nurse smiled at her. "*Of course"*. She lead the way then left. Iris quickly scanned the room. A bathroom. Her medieval country didn't have those. But she wasn't actually interested in the toilet. Rather, she faced the mirror.
Her hair as were back to their original pitch black color. Not a single grey strand was left. Her blue eyes still had the queen's severe expression though. She took a look at her hands. They had that peach colored nail polish she used to love as a teen. No scars, no wrinkles. They were perfect.
A sparkle caught her attention. Perhaps not so perfect after all. A silver ring shone brightly at her finger, carved with letters of the lastrian alphabet only she could read. It had beautiful red gemstones at its center. A detail out of place, not from this world. Iris knew this ring. She saw it everyday for 80 years. Her wedding ring. A token of love from her late husband and by far her most prized possession.
*- Interesting...* She whispered.
\--- --- ---
Suddenly, a scream. Iris rushed out of the bathroom, only to face the nurse. Huge commotion could be heard from the other side of the infirmary door.
*- Stay inside !*
*- What ? What is going on ?*
*- There is...*
She didn't have the time to finish that sentence. A roar, as powerful as thunder, blasted through the building. Iris's eyes widened. She knew that roar. She was famous *because* of that roar.
A dragon.
Ignoring the nurse, she rushed outside the school building. In front of her was her own legend, brought back to life.
She glanced at her ring. The gift from her beloved husband was imbued with powerful magic. It was more than jewelry. It was a tool, meant to always protect her. Would it still work in this world ?
She touched the biggest ruby and murmured words in a mysterious language. Obeying the magical spell, the ring turned itself into a sword, and the now armed schoolgirl faced the dragon.
*- Nice seeing you again, Yldir*. she smirked. | Like a bolt she stands up. The class turns as the teacher trails off. “Miss Derringer do you mind...” he begins. “Silence!” She snaps as the realisation of her surroundings sinks in. With purpose Ann moves towards the door. The teacher still reeling from the authority in the command. Marie scrambles after her “Annie! Where are you going?” Ann continues out into the hallway breezing past the coat hooks and heavy jackets and snow boots that they hold.
Marie has to break into a jog just to catch up with her “Annie! Are you ok? Where are you going?” Marie had never seen Annie like this before the way she moved was so different. She even seemed taller somehow. Ann threw open the old doors towards the back fields and strode through them barely flinching at the cold wind and snow filled air that assailed her. “You can’t go out there like that! You’ll freeze!” She screamed. Marie shivered at the wind and looked to the coat hooks nearest her. A small crowd of students had spilled from the classroom to watch and Mr Jenkins was trying to restore some semblance of order. Marie slipped on someone’s snow boots and seized up two coats and another set of boots.
Ann was nearly halfway across the field and heading towards the wood. Marie ran after her pulling on the strange jacket and wishing she had taken the time to get her own boots instead of these ones, which were too small and were pinching her feet. Even running Marie struggled to catch her bulked down with the extra boots and coat she was not even halfway across the field when Ann turned towards the wood.
It was easy to follow her in the fresh powder undisturbed due to the Greenskeepers orders. “Annie! Where are you going?!” She cried. She must be freezing with only her sweater for warmth. Had she lost her mind? Mr Jenkins was a pompous old fool but no one spoke like that in his class. No one spoke like that in the entire school. “You’re going to get both of us in a world of trouble Annie!” She lamented.
Marie struggled after her passing by the frozen stream and up towards the old hill. Ann was driving on single minded in her purpose striding through the snow without hesitation or care. She abruptly stopped at the base of the old hill and began moving the snow with her bare hands. By the time Marie got to her she was quietly weeping.
“Oh Annie! Whatever is the matter with you?” Marie exclaimed wrapping the coat she had brought around her.
“It’s gone” Ann stated “the portal to the empire... it’s all gone” she began shivering as the cold permeates her. “Whatever are you talking about?” Marie asks trying to button the coat around an unhelpful Annie.
Ann stares down at her hands. Turning blue from the cold. Much younger than they were a few moments ago. No pain like they had given her for all those years. They didn’t bear the scars of her labors nor the winkles of time. But there as it had been for nearly a century was her ring. The symbol of her position and allegiance to the Dark Lord.
“I’ll find my way back” Ann said. “Back to where Annie?” Marie asked as she jostled her back to her feet. “Back to my empire” Ann said. Something made Marie stop in her tracks. This wasn’t the person she thought she knew. Suddenly she felt like a mouse confronted by a hungry cat. “Annie...” Marie staggered backwards
“All I need is a sacrifice...” Ann’s hands balled into fists as she advanced on Marie. | 2020-04-21T11:19:29 | 2020-04-21T11:17:39 | 23 | 14 |
[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. | "Hey Glinda! Stop eating that cow meat! You need to cook it first."
Glinda rolled her eyes at Dahv-id. He claimed he could read, and was from a time far beyond ours. But Glinda knew he was just some crazy guy who didn't want her to eat.
"But I'm hungry!" Glinda shouted back. "Can one not partake in a meal during mealtimes?"
"Not that meal. Here, I made some soup. Put your meat in here and I'll make it taste better." At this suggestion, Glinda yielded. Dahv-id's food was good, even if his mind was missing.
"Dahv-id, where did you learn to cook like this?" Glinda inquired.
"In my time, my wife was the workhorse and I worked at home. That meant I had to do the cooking, and I guess I got really good at it."
"Your wife was working and you weren't? What kind of useless man are you?"
"In my time, men and women are equal. Sadly, you will never see it. You won't live long enough."
"Men and women being equal? Imagine that. You tell the greatest stories, Dahv-id."
Somewhere, a wolf howled.
"Glinda, did you hear that wolf? That tells me that the sun has completely set. It's time for me to leave."
"Where to do you travel?"
"Home. Many miles and many years away."
"You are leaving? You know we enjoy having you here, even if you are a little crazy."
David chuckled. "I fixed my room of metal, as you call it. It will take me away."
Glinda sighed. "Well, every good thing must end sometimes."
David climbed into his time machine and went forward into the 22nd century.
Glinda finished her meal and was just about to leave, when David's time machine reappeared.
She cried for joy and ran to open the door. David staggered out and groaned.
"While I was here, my wife figured I would cheat on her, so she took over the world. It looks like I'll be staying here for a while longer. Now, I just remembered. You have to throw away your families' lucky copper pot. It kills you too."
Glinda stopped smiling and simply said "Are you serious?"
***
Quick note: David left for medieval england on July 25th, 2182. He went back on August 21st, 2182, to account for the time he had aged while stuck in England. Not a plothole, I just couldn't think of a way to say it in the story.
| "I talk to Gods!"
It was a bright sunny day. the first one in weeks. So much rain. If we got a few more days like this the high crops might actually yield. We needed the high crops. Low crops were consistent enough, but the high crops, they meant the difference between new iron or a starving winter.
So the sun was shining, the day was beautiful, the sheep followed their master and then there's poor William, sitting on a wall, trying to keep the demons from coming out. Really struggling, praying and folding his hands but the demons always won. The demons seemed to like me to talk to.
He hopped off the stone wall and followed my slow meander up to pasture.
"I talk to Gods, Peter."
"More like ghosts, William."
He flicked an errant fly off his head. "No, no. They said you'd tell me that. They're Gods. They tell me things." They always told him things.
"Like what?"
"Like there's a murrain coming. I didn't know what that word meant so I asked them. They said it meant dying. Death. The sheep this time. Cows next."
The sheep. I couldn't lose the sheep. Just words from a crazy person but words they carry strange powers. Sometimes even thinking them can cause devils to pluck therm from your mind and make them happen. "Willy, you best not talk like that. Lest the church put you on trial."
"Oh I've been tried scores of times. The Gods told me. Burned, crushed, drowned, crushed and burned, gibbeted, drawn and quartered-"
"I get it, Willy. So the Gods tell you this? How is it you're here."
"I don't know. I don't remember any of it, but they swear it. Tell me not to talk about them. But how can I not? I talk to Gods!" He stood atop a rock and spun around like a thread weight. When he finished he took off running down the hill.
"Say hi to your Gods next time you see 'em." Willy was a good kid, just touched.
"Why?" he shouted back. "It's you they want." | 2017-09-14T13:23:57 | 2017-09-14T10:12:28 | 99 | 47 |
[WP] Humans have always been the friendliest and the most peaceful species in the galaxy. When one of the most ruthless empires decides to wipe out the pathetic humans and their diplomacy, they discover that humans have something that no one in the galaxy has ever seen. WMDs. | It’s been a century since we entered the galactic stage. The face we’ve shown the galaxy has been peaceful and friendly. We’ve appeared thoroughly non-threatening. It’s even seen as laughable that we maintain a military at all. Our weapons are seen as primitive, still using cased chemically propelled projectile weaponry, and limited use of directed energy weapons.
We’re seen as artists, diplomats, and musicians of the highest caliber. We’re not warriors.
But the galaxy doesn’t really know us. Millennia of warfare, thousands of years of skill and killer instinct doesn’t just disappear. The rest of the galaxy doesn’t understand that it is our warlike nature, our desire to avoid the unpleasantness of war, which makes us what the galaxy sees.
The old wisdom holds true for us, *si vis pacem, para bellum*. If you desire peace, prepare for war.
But we haven’t needed war. It’s been extinct on our world for two hundred years, ever since first contact. We realized that we were children, squabbling amongst ourselves, and as the old passage goes, “When I was a child, I thought as a child and acted as a child, but when I became a man, I put away childish things.” We put away childish things.
Things went well for us. We gained respect from the denizens of the galaxy, we gained power and influence, not through conquest, but our skill at diplomacy.
All that changed when they came. We called them Dracs. They looked like dragons in the shapes of men, and they never introduced themselves, they just attacked. They hit our colonies. Our allies warned us, they offered to help. We told them we didn’t need it.
We knew where their homeworlds were. Before the galaxy could come to our aid, we mobilized.
Our retribution was swift. Our fighters, armed with thermonuclear missiles, annihilated their fleets, the kinetic bombardment systems on our ships bombed their cities from orbit. The Dracs did not relent. So, we unleashed thermonuclear devastation upon their homeworld.
Three days. It took three days for us to defeat them. They had waged war for hundreds of years, burning across the galaxy. And we ended it in less than a week.
Our troops eventually landed, clad in their power armor, safe from the fallout, and we cleared the surface of their world.
Now it’s ashes. The cradle of the Drac civilization, nothing but a charred glass wasteland, a monument to their sins.
Those three days taught the galaxy the meaning of fear. The galaxy had war, now it had human war, Total War.
“Now I am become death, destroyer of worlds…” | They all thought, Humanity is nothing but a bunch of politicians and pacifists. They thought we'd simply lay down and just go quietly into the night. The Valkren Empire has apparently never heard of our history of warfare and a human beings never say die spirit.
"Sic vis pacem para bellum," my Drill Sergeant would say. "Latin for If you want peace! Prepare for war!" Sergeant Mueller would go on about how one reason the Cold War never kicked off may have been because both the US and Russia were ready to annihilate each other. However, our pacifism was nothing more than a sheet over our war machine.
Our 1st fleet had formed a blockade and was waiting for the Valkren Annihilation line. We were the tip of the spear. Taking out their flagship would mean the deaths of their command staff. An idiotic idea on their part to put their higher ups on one vessel.
A Mk. V Ship Breaker was a frightening display when I watched it work. Tipped with Nuclear warheads, it would easily wreck a Valkren ship according to intelligence. Our 3rd Expeditionary Naval Force was enroute to the Valkren homeworld in retaliation for their destruction of one of our colonies. They'd launch multiple weapons that would annihilate the Valkren electrical grid before a invasion began. Their own hubris would be their downfall.
We saw them exit their hyperspace jump and I could only think of what their faces looked like at the sight of the fleet. The command of the dreadnought Valkyrie was my first ship command.
"Locked on to the flagship Commander," my TACOPs officer announced.
"Fire," I ordered. There were two Mk. V rockets launched, with no warning. We watched as it smacked their bridge and the other hit their bow. The shockwave annihilated the ship. It fractured into two pieces. What followed was nothing short of an amazing display of firepower. Multiple rockets, cannons, weapon systems were unleashed in awesome display of colors varying in blue and red.
The Valkren fleet did not have a leg to stand on as ship after ship was destroyed. One battleship collided with another and some of the Valkren were floating in space. The message would be sent throughout the Galaxy to all the other species.
"Do not fuck with Humanity. We may not start a war, but we will finish it." | 2021-07-04T22:03:04 | 2021-07-04T14:17:04 | 137 | 58 |
[WP] "Witch! Heathen! Burn her!" You watch with amusement as they begin lighting the pyre under you. The flames tickle your feet, bringing a familiar warmth with them. They are silly to that think they could actually burn a dragon with fire. | Now this was entertaining. I figured I might as well go along with this nonsensical trial, and of course I told nothing but the truth. Their questions were all wrong though.
"Did you let the Devil into your heart?!"
"Absolutely not."
"Did you perform rituals in the woods?"
"I've been here for maybe a day. Did I have time?"
"Did you renounce the one true God and make a deal with Satan?"
"I cannot renounce something I have never believed, and I do not make deals with beasts of the lower planes."
That response *really* set these fanatics off. They carted me off to be burned at the stake, an idea I found truly hilarious. Less hilarious were the five other pyres, obviously burned on prior days. Now I understood why they were so quick to accuse and judge a traveler. I took a glance at the ashes at the base. Not with these human eyes, but with *my* eyes.
Five girls, reduced to ash. Not a trace of magic on them. They were young, a decade younger than this form I wore, at least. These fools were much closer to the truth with me than they had been with these girls, at least.
What a waste of good meat.
The man - or rather, boy pretending at being a man, - who had been tying the last knot on the stake, had fallen backwards while I wasn't looking. I assume he had seen my true eyes when I'd looked at the pyres. I could see the fear in his eyes, as the "holy" man who had tried me rushed to toss a torch onto the pyre.
As I felt the pleasant warmth of the roaring blaze reach me, and reduce my bonds and clothes to ash, I had a truly fun idea. I found myself laughing, hysterically, as I let my true, huge body begin to overwrite this tiny human form. These humans had grown so fat and safe that they had begun to invent false dangers, just to fill that void in their lives. I realized how fun it was going to be to remind them what it was truly like to be afraid of monsters.
At least, for little while. Before they died. | I tried to warn them. I did everything to help them understand. This is what they chose.
Chapter 1: The last of our days.
People used to ask where I came from before I came into town. Those people have been dead for over three centuries. Until recently I've just been silently there. That "human" you see but never thought about... I just have been there. I was.
My mother wasn't a dragon, my father isn't some huge lizard from the authorian lore. We are magic incarnate, and could be whatever we need to be. It's just a shame it took that to make you leave us alone. Before the time when we had to be the "monster" you forced us to be we were just as the fae were before they gave up on you and left. Ancient as you would say, with your limited grasp on time. We loved you and did everything to keep you warm when you were cold, and taught you to use your tools to make what I can breath... Eventually you had no use for us, had mastered the creation fire. Masters that you now believed you were... You had no more need for us, and feared our friendship. You began killing us one by one to avoid irrational fears. We loved you. From the beasts of the sky just taking what we needed to survive, forced to hide in caves from your gilded murderers you dubbed knights, to the silent arcanist you grew to believe to be witches/druids/sorcerer's... We slowly became less than friends.
Burn me. It feels good. I am what you try to end me with. I am fire, and one of the last of my kind. It's time you have a reason to fear.
Just as rain could rust your knights, fire will finish your holy men. I will show you what you have forgotten. | 2021-01-03T09:20:04 | 2021-01-03T09:15:21 | 20 | 12 |
[WP] Every God gets a planet to take care of for their final project. You are pretty sure you're going to fail the assignment because your planet has this weird gross stuff growing all over it. | It had started so well, their assignment was pretty much a textbook example of a young molten world, ripe for manipulation and sculpting. They had found another body nearby which would give him a lot of extra material for little time or energy, so they redirected it onto a collision course. Unfortunately they missed, and most of the material was now in a useless clump orbiting around their project. Still, they could proceed with their plan of collecting local ice to craft a canvas. An ice ball wouldn’t give him the highest grade, but they was comfortable with them and hoped to impress with their skill in crackcrafting.
But then, the ice stayed liquid and wouldn’t freeze, which would
The added radioactive elements from the collision should just have been enough to keep a layer liquid under deep ice… wait… collision! Jach cursed.
That stupid thing orbiting the planet, it is large enough to induce a magnetic field in the planet, if they remembered those lessons by professor Hcon correctly…
“FUCK THAT THING!!!”
In their rage, Jach used almost all of their remaining budget on flinging rocks at the body now orbiting their planet, that had destroyed their plans of sculpting their masterpiece as an aesthetically pleasing system of colourful cracks and canyons.
After they had calmed down again, they took a look at the mudball they had to work with, mudball, as the water they had redirected onto it before their tantrum only was enough for a thin layer above the rocks.
A few hours later, Jach looked at their desperate attempt to eek out a passing grade. They had tried to increase the points in the complexity department by redirecting more asteroids, this time into the water of the planet. Unfortunately their budget only was enough for a few carbon rich ones and not the heavy metal they would have liked. With their last sliver of energy, they had tried to redirect the magma flow deep within the planet to try and create a few patterns of rock jutting out above the water, but that only led to a collection of weird splats, nothing nice to look at. And to top it all off, the complex sulphur compounds they had achieved seemed to not stick around as long as they should. And the water was taking a weird hue, despite the lack of metals
At this point Jach gave up. They had no energy left to spend and their final was a complete failure. No need to lose nerves over something that was already doomed.
When the deadline neared, Jach had to show their teachers what they had done. Having already made their peace with retaking the class, they only dreaded the disappointment of their teachers.
Weird, why was it so green? He had not achieved the copper and oxygen levels necessary for that.
“Just protocol my failure and move on, I want to see what my peers have been up to. Kotre was always good with crystals, I wonder how he did.”
Joch was already leaving, but stopped when their teachers didn’t follow them
“Something wrong?” he asked “You don’t need to try and find a reason to pass me, you won’t find it. I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?” one of the Professors he never had a class with replied. His subject had been an elective, Orgenecs or something similar, a field few dared venture into, as it was known to destroy careers, apart from the few who managed to teach it.
“You have achieved something I have dreamed about for my entire career, macroscopic life!” | “YHWH, please, come show us your project.”
Mrs. ZVGV and the rest of the class looked at little YHWH. He tapped his feet while looking with worry at his small blue planet.
In the beginning, there was nothing, so he said “Let there be light” and lit a lamp to warm up the globe. He filled the holes between continents with water. Planted tiny forests with caution. It was a perfect, roundy planet. No, no, it wasn't perfectly round, it was more like geoid. He was immensely proud of it; his best project yet since Mars. Mars, unfortunately, dried up after he left it too long on the light. His other projects all suffered from a problem, but he took all he did learn and for this final assignment he wouldn't mess up.
That was until those things started to appear. What the heck were they?! YHWH had tried to freeze, burn and even drown them, however that proved useless. Everytime he put them through a mass extinction catastrophe, they came back stronger than ever.
He was nervous. He didn't knew if Mrs. ZVGV would notice it. With a stretch of courage, he lift up from his table and walked over Mrs. ZVGV's table. He proceeded to explain all the small details about the globe's working and how he made it. Some students of Mrs. ZVGV's raised up and went to look closer at YHWH'S project.
“There's... just one problem.” YHWH admitted. he rolled the globe and pointed towards a small part of land he called Mesopotamia because it sounded cool. Everyone saw it; little buildings of wood and stone with little people living in them and worshipping invented deities.
“I don't know what they are. I've read they're called "humans" , though I couldn't find any way to get rid of them.
Mrs. ZVGV also noticed the little thingies walking around YHWH'S project. She knew what they were and knew exactly what to say.
“YHWH, these humans are just like the animals of your planet, there are animals in your planet, right?
“Yes.”
“Right, so they're a bit more intelligent than the rest of the other animals. They're sapient.”
“Like us?”
“Oh, no, we're much more intelligent and we'll knowing than they ever will, however they still are intelligent on their own. It is your responsibility from now on to take care of them. Provide them with rain, food, heat and prosperity.”
“That sucks. I don't want to babysit some stupid humans! ”
“YHWH ELOHIM EIN SOF, you need to calm down. It's not your fault, it always happens. Think of them as your pets; it's the same kind of responsibility.”
“Okay...”
“Now go back to your seat, you've excelled at Planetocraft.”
YHWH was showered with a short round of applause from his classmates. He was happy everything had turned out fine, but hated the idea of the rest of his life be spent having to take care of tiny, bumbling, naked humans. He had an idea, however... a very wicked idea.
“We'll have a lot of fun together, mankind.” he said, while gripping the planet with both his hands.
They wanted to live? They're gonna have earn it. | 2022-01-27T09:51:48 | 2022-01-27T06:04:22 | 208 | 134 |
[WP] Your sister is getting married but she’s pressured you to find a date. Not knowing anyone that could help, caused by having severe social anxiety, you summon a demon. Or try to at least, using all the right instructions, you summon Lucifer instead. Turns out he also needs a date to a wedding. | The demons ‘ooh’ed and ‘ahh’ed over me as I walked arm-in-arm with their king. “Truly the ugliest specimen Earth has to offer,” one whispered.
“Breathtaking,” another agreed.
I fought back tears. All my life I’d had to deal with this kind of ridicule, especially when people saw me next to my beautiful, kind, ever-caring sister - the same one who insisted I find a date to her wedding because she knew how much it would suck for me to be both hideous and alone at that kind of event. I wish she would keep her perfect nose out of my business. She could have left me alone. I could have stayed at home. But no, instead I showed up with THE most handsome man anyone had ever seen and by the end of the night everyone was judging me for hiring an escort.
Though it’s probably better than them knowing the truth. Demon summoning has its stigma too.
And now I was in Hell, keeping my end of the bargain. The wedding of one of his servants to another - their names were impossible to pronounce.
Little did I know how much worse this would be than the wedding I had just left. Lucifer paraded me around proudly, pointing out the features I hated the most about myself. “Note her uneven teeth! Her bulbous nose! Pay close attention to the disgusting pustules that spot her face! I could not have found an uglier human.” He grinned at me. “And all eyes are on you instead of the bride and groom. This pleases me. Wedding etiquette is for angels.”
I looked away. All the infernal creatures that surrounded me looked grotesque, and yet I was still the ugly one. Always, always.
“How long is this wedding going to last?” I asked, my voice breaking as a sob worked it’s way free. “I want to go home.”
“Oh, but you cannot. You see, when you summon a demon, the bargain struck is in exchange for your soul. Your bitter, bitter soul, black and withered from years spent envying the sister who was only ever gracious to you. This is your hell.” I wrenched my arm from his, horrified. “This is the punishment you have been dealt - for all of eternity.” | “Well, this is a first!” I laughed as the demon stared into my soul.
“What first?” The demon questioned as I continued laughing.
“My first date is with the King of the Underworld!” I answered.
“That’s odd,” The demon replied. “It’s my first date too!”
“Really?” I asked, in disbelief. “ King Lucifer never dated anyone before?”
“Don’t mock me,” The demon snarled, harshly. “I never had time for such trivial matters like dating.”
“I’m not going to judge,” I retorted. ”As long as, you help me and I help you.”
”Deal,” The demon agreed. ”At what time will your sister's wedding be?”
”Tomorrow, at noon.” I said, taking a seat at the table, in my room. ”What about the wedding you have to attend?”
”My mother is having her 4th marriage, and she wanted me to bring a date, as her wedding gift.” Lucifer muttered, under his breath.
”A date as a gift?” I queried, at such an odd request. ”How come?”
”I don't know, ” He sighed. ”She was persistent about finding a date suitable for me and would pester me about it until I agreed.”
”That must be harsh.” I responded, empathetically. ”My sister would do the same and forced me into going into a blind date, do her wedding.”
”That doesn't seem like a great sister.” The demon remarked.
”She is.” I defended. ”Not all the time, but she is.”
”Whatever you say, sweetheart.” He snickered. ”I need to head back to the Underworld, for my royal duties.”
”Then go on, ” I giggled. ”Go on Sir Lucifer and do what you were born to do!”
”I said don't mock me!” He growled.
”Too late for that, ” I continued teasing him. ”See you, tomorrow!”
”Whatever, ” The demon muttered, before disappearing altogether.
----------
To be continued... | 2019-08-30T21:57:02 | 2019-08-30T15:16:47 | 60 | 34 |
[WP] You wake up in Hell. You look around, you can't see anybody, it's just fire and brimstone going on forever. Eventually the Devil walks over and says "Finally, you're the first to arrive, so tell me, who are you? what did you do? and how did you die?" | "Shouldn't you know this?" The devil – the big man down under himself – is asking me what I did wrong. I'm not sure how I know he's the devil – he seems friendly enough, tall and blonde and handsome with a smile that could melt hearts. Maybe it's just the fact that he's the only other person in what is obviously Hell.
"Nope. I'm as surprised as you are. I just assumed that when someone arrived, I'd get a memo on who they were. But here we are, and no memo to be found." He shrugs. "If you don't wanna tell me, that's fine. But I'd appreciate if you did. It gets boring out here."
"Yeah, I'd imagine, with nobody else around. How long have you been here?"
The demon shrugs again. "Time's weird down here. It could have been a minute or a decade or a hundred trillion years. I'd say it was eternity, but I can remember before I came." I look into his eyes and know he speaks the truth – there is the darkness of eons in those clear, amber irises. Suddenly, though he loses none of his charm, there is something horrible about him – something abhorrent and monstrous. It must show on my face, because he frowns. "I'm sorry, did I say something wrong?"
"No, no, it's not that, it's just… the concept of eternity is *really* uncomfortable. And your eyes." I shiver. "But am I really the first person here? I mean, someone *must* have done something worse than me. I'm not Hitler or anything."
The devil strokes his chin. "By my understanding, Hell was designed to hold the irredeemable. People who could *never* enter Heaven. Me and my ilk, specifically. I assumed some of you fleshy ones would be joining us eventually, but it's been… a long time, and you're the first."
"There are others like you?" So that's how he hasn't gone mad, all alone down here – he's *not* alone.
He chuckles. "Of course not. A third of Heaven's host fell with Lord Lucifer." He sees the surprise on my face. "Were you assuming I was him? Oh, no, no, no." He bows deeply. "My name is Nebiros, guardian of the entrance to Hell. A pleasure."
I try to respond. "My name is…" What is it? I try to think, but I search in the dark for a thing that may not be there. I clutch my head. "I'm sorry, I don't remember."
Nebiros looks at me concernedly. "Are you okay?" I nod.
"I'm fine, I just… can't remember my name. Or any names from my life – people, places, nothing. I remember what they looked like, though, And I know what I did."
"What was it?" His eyes are excited, the fire reflected in them representing him perfectly.
"I learned the Name. The real name, the way to pronounce the Tetragrammaton. Not 'God,' or 'Yahweh,' or 'Jehova.'" Why do I remember those? Maybe because they're not real names. I think – what authors can I remember? Mark Twain, bell hooks, Lewis Carroll, Voltaire, George Orwell… George Orwell was a pen name? Huh. I can remember fictional characters, too.
"Well?" I look up. The demon is thrilled, staring at me avidly, even hungrily. I fear him again. "What is it?"
"I-I'm sorry. I've forgotten that name, too. I think I can only remember fake names from my time alive." He deflates. "Sorry I couldn't be much help."
"Don't worry about it." He's cheerful again. "At least now I get why you're down here. You're too dangerous to send upwards or even to Purgatory."
"Dangerous?! But I don't even remember the name!"
"No, but you learned it once. You could do it again." He turns toward a small black building I hadn't noticed. "The sulphur-wind is picking up. Please, come inside." I scurry after him.
Nebiros fiddles with a brass kettle, filling it with a strange, dark liquid. "My relief will probably come at some point, after the wind settles down. I'll take you to Pandaemonium when she does." He puts the kettle on a small, exposed flame. "You probably won't like colatl, but I'm heating enough that you can try it. It's an acquired taste."
The kettle simmers in a corner as Nebiros putters around, straightening up. "It's usually only me or Gremory, so we don't really bother keeping the place neat. I hope you understand."
"Oh, entirely. My home was always messy. Papers everywhere. I could never find what I was looking for." I smile. Demons are quite like humans, in some ways.
---
I'll continue it eventually. | I blinked, and I blinked again. Never in all my existence have I perceived a place such as this. It was the deepest black you could imagine, it was as though the world was covered in a stifling black tar that sucked the light out of your very eye sockets. Yet, I could see, I could *perceive* at least, the fires, black and silver tendrils licking the sky, consuming the energy around them. I could feel the pits filled with hot pitch, bubbling and frothing eagerly, wanting millions of damned souls to eat and savor their pain. It was cold here as if I had no energy left to do anything, it sapped away my strength, the fires swallowed my heat, and the pitch eagerly awaited my soul. It was then that I noticed a familiar fellow standing but a mere hundred meters away.
"Finally, you're the first to arrive, so tell me, who are you? what did you do? and how did you die?"
I looked at this figure, the Devil as my children had called him.
"I - I don't know really. I was weak, I was fading, sickly, laying there as my own family watched. They were dying too. It was a sad scene, as though a great plague had beset us, a plague such as the one hit Europe in the old times. We were all weak, all surrounded by the most comfortable of places, a serene white room, sterile and happy. We were not happy, in stark contrast we were poor, and sobbing, and so alone. I didn't know what it was to die. If I had, I would not have doomed so many, I would not have forsook so many, they were all scared and now I was too."
"Yes, it is always frightful, the feeling of helplessness, as if you have no control over your own being. I know that feeling all too well."
I looked at the Devil, he was a handsome man, not fitting the descriptions that so many have attached to him. He had no sense of slyness, no sense of hatred or malice. He was not angry, he just had a darkness to him. As though it was a duty he felt in his soul he had to do. It was his duty to keep the millions of forgotten souls, and he would do this duty to his best of ability because he had to, not because he wanted to.
"Surely I'm not the first. There must be generations of mal contented people who came before me. Or is this to be my torture, to be loved by so many in life, so now I am to wander alone in solitude for eternity?"
"I assure you," the Devil said, "you are the first. I was hoping you would have known why but it appears that I must tell you. You created this world to surround yourself with people who loved you, you let it flourish and grow, you then grew tired of it. You let it disappear, the people who loved you felt that you had grown distant from them, they felt afraid because the only thing their children knew of you was your wrath. I had felt that wrath, personally. Father, I must confess, of all the people who should have arrived here, I am quite pleased that it is you."
I sighed, my shoulders suddenly heavy. I knew what had happened.
"I know who I am and why I am here. The people in my world, in my universe, they loved me, they adored me, worshiped me. I was their god, and I was a good god. I forgave and let them repent, I brought everyone into heaven. Yet, it was only those who believed in heaven. You see, it was their belief that gave me life, gave you life. As they stopped believing it became so I was to die. As I was fading away I realized how scared, how terrified I was. I had unleashed plagues, diseases, terrible maleficent creatures, cancers, floods, and storms. I was wrathful and vengeful, I would smite those that hated me and only loved those who loved me back. I was not a benevolent god, I was a malicious one. As I was dying I realized all I had sinned, and for how long I had sinned. I realized there was one place for me to go. It was that belief, so strong it was, that gave you the life you needed to surpass mine. You knew this day would come didn't you?"
The Devil paused in contemplation then answered, "I had my suspicions."
I looked at the world he created, I saw it's real beauty for what it was. It was efficient, it was perfection. I would have been proud of my son had I not been so narrow minded. "I'm sorry my son."
"Thank you father, but the time for that is over." | 2015-04-09T11:38:15 | 2015-04-09T10:44:44 | 45 | 21 |
[WP] Without revealing which one it is, re-tell a classic Disney fairytale as if its genre was horror. | Please, no more “he said weakly as he sits hunched over in his throne.
He lifts a shaky hand to his eyes to cut the glare emanating from the piles of gold, rubies and diamond that loom so high they could be mistaken for walls.
“Oh, don’t be that way” The large man says as he snaps his fingers causing a mountain of gold to appear. The old man shows his frustration by running his gnarled fingers through his wispy hair as another tear run down his wrinkly cheeks.
“Why won’t you just leave me be?”
“Friends don’t abandon each other!” the large man says as he does somersaults around the smaller piles of gold coins.
“But it’s been a five centuries”
“You were the one who said, *The large bearded man pulls out a pair of tiny glasses and reviews what appears to be a stenographers record*and I quote- "I want our love to last forever" I gave you that. You will love *her* forever” he said as he points to the ornately decorated alabaster urn, the final resting place of a long dead woman.
“It was just a romantic sentiment” the old man says with a sob as he stares at a faded picture of a beautiful woman.
“I gave you what you wanted. I’m still giving you what you want.” The large man says as he lands lightly in front of his friend.
“You wanted to be rich. I gave you all the wealth you could imagine”
“You've made gold worthless.” the old man interjects!
“You promised your Kingdom a thousand years of peace. I have given you that”
“You destroyed all the other Kingdoms with disease and fire! You left thousands of refugees to die a slow painful death in the barren wastelands that remain”
The large man smiles as he nods. A large hand appears behind him and pats him on the back.
“You blue skinned devil. I wish we’d never met”
“You're all out of those. What I do now comes from the kindness of my heart.” The big man says with a boastful smile on his face.
The old man pulls a diamond encrusted gold handled knife from his sash. He opens his mouth and with a quick slash cuts off his tongue. A gurgling scream escapes his lips and his body trembles in shock.
The blue skinned man shakes his head in disapproval before snapping his fingers causing last ten seconds of reality to rewind leaving the old man’s mouth if not his mind, intact.
“Oh Al, What would you do without a friend like me?”
| I saw a haunted girl walk past me. She used to be famous. Something about her scares me but I force myself to pay attention to my mother like a good girl.
"You start off small, but then they help you get better and better," my mother tells me.
She leans in close, the smoke from her methol cigarette wafting around me.
"You have to get them to trust you."
She hugs me. "And you'll do it honey. You're very professional."
I smile at her. This is the best day of my life.
******
I have a regular role on a Disney channel show now. It's nice. The people are wonderful. They help me so much. They tell me I'm professional and talented. They tell me I will go far. I smilc and thank them. I know I am. I'm driven.
********
Sometimes the whole day passes and I'm working - on the show, networking, interviews... Smile, smile, smile. Fight, fight, fight. :-)
******
They fuss over my hair. I stay still professionaly.
I'm working my way up rhe ladder. I had my first music video today. It was nice. The song they gave me to sing was nice. It resonated with me. They tell me I have talent. "You're so nice," they tell me, "keep that attitude and you'll go far."
I smile at them and say thank you.
******
Nearly there. I've joined the right charity now.
It was a tough selection, but I think rhinos will put me over. Ryan thinks so. He's one of my friends. I've lots now. My social pool is developing. It's easy - everyone wants to be my friend. They tell me I'm an inspiration and that I've come so far. I nod my head and smile. I know I have. I like partying. It's fine.
*******
Finally did my 'hot' makeover. My handlers delayed it as long as they could. They didn't want to fire off that bullet too early. That can cause problems. I like the new me. I can hide in her.
******
I'm the new girl, the next one in the cycle. I'm goin to be famous.
I dont want to be. | 2014-08-04T07:31:04 | 2014-08-04T06:05:49 | 118 | 25 |
[WP] Death gave you immortality with the plan that you'd realize how awful it is and beg him to let you die. 50,000 years later he's getting annoyed as you continue to have fun and live a wonderful life. | "Are you sure?"
"Yes I am. I got accepted into that new University in Delhi."
"You want to go to school again?"
"Yeah, its a new field... memeology is what they are calling it. Study of internet culture and changes within it." I replied back to the black mass in a pinstripe suit. This time he looks like an old funeral home director, a man who had seen so many dead bodies that he looks more like one than living.
"It's been 50,000 years. You've learned just about everything. All the degrees from at least every school accredited, enough certifications to fund an entire country in enough fields that you could build an island and have a better GDP than any other country." Death replied. It wasn't as cold this time he was here "Why don't you just die."
"You said I couldn't. Never in the past 50,000 years have I thought I could. I want to learn everything first."
"You want to learn what comes after death?" Death asked, smiling
"I'll learn that when I know everything there is to know in life." I replied, standing up from the cafe table, my drink gone, and the flower wilting. Touching it, it unwilts slightly "I'm learning more than you could imagine." | A shadow looms over me, its anger palpable in the morning mist. I don’t need to turn to know who it is. “Death.”
The figure inclines slightly, a bare ghost of a bow. I smile, and say, “Our deal holds, my friend. How many times is it, now?” A piercing screech echoes from behind a locked door, ringing against the cold metal walls. I can’t help but smile - after all, if I haven’t checked the tally today, I never will. “Thank you, my good man. I’ll see you soon.”
I turn back around and blink. What was I doing? What are all these papers, and why are they in a hole? What could even dig through that much steel? I reach down and start to sift through the pages, and as I realize what they mean, my smile grows. “I’m going to live forever!” | 2017-11-29T08:24:55 | 2017-11-28T13:19:24 | 935 | 16 |
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