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[WP] The world's smallest dragon must defend his hoard, a single gold coin, from those who would steal it. | Luven followed the map his dad had given him. It wasn't very tidy nor detailed, but what he'd to find was clear as the sky above: a tiny cave hidden somewhere in their backyard.
And so, Luven started, wielding a wooden sword, and walking with the uncertainty of a child's first time venturing alone. His father cheered for him from the safety of their home, as his son's little leather boots moved across the ankle-high grass.
Soon, he reached his first obstacle, a wall of brambles. He knew, despite his age, how sharp they could be, and so he halted and examined the map. The treasure lay beyond. He had to do something.
He scanned the bushes, seeking for a safe passage, and amidst the evil plants, he found a hole his size. Beaming, he shrunk and went through with a pearl-white smile, as the sun caught in his wooden sword.
Beyond he found many thin, and young poplars, but no treasure he could see. Confused, he stared at the map once again, and saw the spot was marked with an "H" instead of an X.
"H?" he murmured, scratching his head, and looked ahead, to where the treasure was supposed to be. There, he found a big hole, and he breathed a sigh of relief. That was what the H had meant.
However, his curved lips knitted when he saw what awaited inside, defending the riches.
It was a young dragon, with two wings as long as his arms, and thin sharp teeth like needles. It was red as fire, and it bore eyes of liquid silver.
Luven raised his sword aloft, and pointed it straight at the confused dragon, who stared at him with a tilted head, while clouds of smoke billowed out its nostrils. "We shall fight for your hoard, dragonling." He attempted a deep intonation, but his voice came out soft and unthreatening anyway.
The dragon hid in his hole, fumbled in the dirt, and fluttered out of it. In his ungrown claws, it held a single golden coin the size of an eye. Then, it tilted its head, and held it out for Luven to grab.
"What? For me?" Luven said, and dropped his sword. He accepted the offeri, and sat beside the winged beast. "Why?"
"An offering of friendship," the dragon said, its voice soft and harmless. "Now you are bound to me, and I'm bound to you. This is the way fate wants it."
Luven's eyes glittered, and a flood of dreams swarmed his mind. "Does this mean that we will raid together? Will I get to ride you in the future as we rescue innocent from the hands of bad people?"
The dragon nodded, and rubbed its forehead against Luven's chest. "It is written in the sheets of fate. No one will stop us."
Luven smiled a true smile, and raised the coin skyward. It sparked beneath the sun, and in that brief flash of white, he saw them, all grown up, soaring the skies, laughing as they flew to their next adventure. "Thanks dad," he muttered to himself, and took a deep breath.
That innocent day, beneath the eye of the tender sun, an everlasting friendship worthy of countless tales was born.
----------------------------
/r/ahumongousfish - I should be studying. | No one ever expected to find me. Going about their lives, adventurers and rich seeking individuals alike would find their way into my lair. They would hear word of a great hoard, an unattainable treasure. This was my treasure.
As I lay on my hoard, eyes closed and breathing slow, I heard it. That oh so familiar sound. A crunch. A sound that may normally be unnoticed, I had become attuned to hearing it. The leaves at the entrance of my lair had a purpose. To warn me of would be thieves.
I yawned and stretched my limbs, even as I heard the sound of heavy footsteps in the nearby caverns. Quiet voices echoed off the walls, reaching my sensitive ears. I doubt they even knew I had heard them.
I slid off my hoard, making sure not to disturb it, and crept towards the exit of my treasure cavern. I crawled through it, making sure to keep my wings tucked close to my back to ensure they wouldn't get caught and tear. I had made that mistake twice before. The healing process was a nightmare.
My claws hooked into the familiar crevices, the same nooks and crannies that I had used at least a hundred times before. The footsteps were closer now. Light and slow, as if the owners were trying to be stealthy. As if any of these things could ever be sneaky. Even the stealthiest ones sound like an avalanche.
I poked my head through the exit hole, taking care to avoid being seen. My greater eyesight allowed me to see what others might not be able to in these dark conditions. A party of 4. Weapons on their backs, armour taken off to increase stealth, moving ever so slowly to avoid detection. It would be almost humorous if I didn't know what they were here for.
I slid my head back in and waited, listening to those footsteps get closer and closer. Finally, I saw the form of the party rogue creeping past, their cloak wrapped around them. Cloth. Perfect.
Without a moments hesitation I opened my jaws wide, feeling that hot sensation in my belly rise into my throat. They started to turn, as if they had noticed the building light. But it was too late.
I released my torrent of flames, engulfing their cloak in flames. The rogue sprinted down the hallway, screaming and desperately trying to pat out the flames that licked his body. I inflated my chest and let out a roar. A roar, that when amplified by the cave walls, shook bones and deafened ears.
The adventurers didn't so much as look over their shoulder. They sprinted out of my lair, fleeing for their lives. I smiled and crept back into my home. I saw the brilliant shine of my treasure and felt the same desire that had caused me to take it in the first place build in my chest.
I climbed on top and wrapped my tail around my body, closing my eyes and relaxing once more.
This was my treasure. My hoard. My single gold coin.
| 2018-10-24T15:23:49 | 2018-10-24T15:09:05 | 50 | 22 |
[WP] You are a superhero, and your mask has just been ripped off by your arch nemesis. Lucky for you, when you aren’t busy saving lives, you live as a hermit away from all of society. Having your identity revealed means next to nothing, and the villain has no idea who you are. | “Finally!” The Night Terror shrieks with glory, holding the one thing that kept my identity hidden. “Your secret is revealed! The hero is unmasked! Now everybody will know that the one behind the Cardmaster is... umm...?”
He freezes, as he stares at me with a sense of confusion plastered on his face. The same goes for everyone around us, as they try to put a finger on who I am. I look at the Night Terror and shrug. “So, are you satisfied with your discovery?”
“You’re...” the Terror muttered, clearly trying to put a finger on who I was. “You’re, um... you’re obviously uh...”
“Don’t worry,” I assure him, shuffling my current deck of cards as I do so. “I’ll give you a minute.”
Finally, he yells and stomps his foot, causing the pavement to crack. “WHO ARE YOU?!” he cries.
I grin with satisfaction as I state, “Nobody you’d know.”
I figured that something like this would happen years ago when my powers first came into being. Frankly I was a little surprised that it didn’t happen earlier. After college, I chose to move out to one of the woodland areas about a few miles outside of the city. Here, people only knew me as the Cardmaster, the savior of Dynamo City. Now, as the man who’s been my nemesis for 7 years stares at me, completely clueless, I’m shaking as I try to hold back my laughter.
“This,” he says, clearly more so to himself than anyone else, “this is ridiculous! It’s beyond anticlimactic! It’s the equivalent of trying to get a PHD and getting a gold star for your efforts!”
“What’s wrong?” I tell him, trying to hold back an explosion of laughter. “Didn’t get what you wanted? I thought you always said you wanted to find out who I was, and destroy those close to me until I wish for death myself. Isn’t that not what’s happening now?”
“I DON’T FUCKING KNOW YOU THOUGH, DO I?” Terror shouts at me. “Jesus and Mary above! I wasted SEVEN years of my damn life only to find out that you don’t even have a life here?! I scrounged through the minds of EVERYONE in this fucking town. I was for sure that you’d be Jamal Lewis or something.”
“Wait, what?” A voice shouts in the crowd, most likely Jamal.
“NOBODY WAS FUCKING TALKING TO YOU, JAMAL!” Terror yells back. He sighs and tosses my mask back to me, just as the cops arrive around the corner. He rolls his eyes as he walks towards them, but right as he reaches the front of the cars, he stops to turn around and look at me, his eyes filled with a boiling mix of both hate and betrayal.
“Fuck you,” he tells me, his voice nearly dead from all the screaming he was doing. “Fuck you, fuck the city, and fuck this.” He walks to the back of the police car, and enters in, turning himself in for good.
I shrug, the feeling of busting out laughing deep in my gut now replaced with a tinge of sympathy. I just broke a man who spent seven years of his life trying to tie up his life to mine. I effectively told him that Santa Claus doesn’t exist in front of hundreds of people, and as much as he got what he asked for, I can’t help but feel like he didn’t deserve what he got.
Still, the day is saved, and I’ve done my job. I throw a card in the air, creating a portal back to my home, and walk on through. | I pressed myself against the rough brick wall, cursing. Looking back, I had been out of options, and the alley had looked good at the time. A place to regroup and gather my strength. The Devil had been strong tonight. Stronger than usual. Quicker, and the magic the bastard usually used seemed more potent. How had he done it?
"*Pacts...?! Black mage Mo'fugg..!!*"
The blinding floodlights of their ruinous powers filled my last sanctuary. Banishing all shadows. I was trapped. Well, I thought. Its not like this is the first time I've been trapped by these bastards! I wasnt going down without a fight...
"*GAH!...fuggenbastid... PISSORF!*"
The incantation failed. The Powers burning as I sought to channel more magic into my broken body.
Then **He** opened the door of the unholy vehicle, stepping out and murmuring foul rites into that infernal box on his shoulder. Was it a daemon? Imp? I squinted through the glare, was he... taller than usual?
"*Haberdashery!*"
**His** boots crunched on the debris littering the road as he approached. The bastard still had a shine on those hobnailed stompers. Funny how the mind remembers the strangest of details in these battles between good and evil.
"**Are you ok Buddy?**"
Mind racing, I quickly took stock of my options. The last few drops of the Powers swirled in the potion bottle in my hand. Hadn't that been full of blazing light just a moment ago? Hadn't the power to snuff out stars been mine just the instant before?
"*Bla..stin.... fugger*"
The bottle dropped from suddenly numb fingers. My head whipping up at **Him**. Had **he** hexxed me?!
"*Gitouddamahead!*"
I tried every warding at my disposal. Hands flashing through complicated sigils and leaving trails of blurry after images in my eyes.
"**Hey Pal. You doing ok? You took a bit of a tumble there when you ran from the 7-11...**"
**He** was upon me now. Powerless and broken. I knew this was the end. My magic had gone. Body broken and unable.to channel the magic any more.
But such is the ending for all magi. If I was to be taken down by an archfiend such as this, so be it.
I embraced my fate... and found peace.
"**Hey Frank?**" The fiend was summoning more denizens of the depths. A fitting end I thought. "**C'mon Callahagn, you are not retired yet. Get out of the cruiser and help me with this guy!**" **His** voice lowered, a sign that the spell was nearly done. "**My first day on the force and that lazy old fuck havent introduced me to half the....** "
"*H-aaaaaaahhhh....berdash*" I sighed as my life force drained out of me. My soul fled to the void beyond where the devil could snare it. Blissful oblivion wrapped me up as I felt the Powers leave me. My tinfoil mask losing its sustaining source and falling from my face.
**Officer Clancy** held the snoring drunk by the lapels and watched as the stream of urine splattered over his pants and boots.
"Fug." | 2020-08-21T06:12:55 | 2020-08-21T06:07:17 | 41 | 19 |
[WP] You, an atheist, have died. All the gods that have ever been line up to offer you their version of heaven if only you believe in _them_. Turns out souls are currency and yours is up for grabs. | The boy opened his eyes. The dim agressive light of the hospital replaced by the soothing embrace of a sun that did not shine yet lighted the ethereal clouds he walked upon.
So its over, thought the boy, all this struggle and now...
Now there was a bearded man.
"Are you God?"
The ancient sighed.
"No."
He then stood still. Awaiting further questions to annoy him.
"uuhh, where is God?"
The whitehaired individual sighed again.
"Down the hall, section B6."
The boy was confused, but too tired to complain. He moved down the hall and past the gate without saying anything. He encountered a few doors with letters and numbers above them, like the hospital. He entered through B6, and found a legion of strange beings awaiting his arrival. Egyptian looking animals to the left, Roman toga wearing men and women to the right...and here he was, stuck in the middle as a mortal.
"And so the young Michael has arrived. Then let us proceed with the soul before us. My boy, take a seat."
The latter looked around him, there was no seat, he panicked.
"My boy it was a manner of speaking. You are in the hollows, all mortals can do anything here, really. Just make the chair appear through sheer force of will."
"Really?" And as if to answer his question a chair appeared.
"Amazing!"
"Micheal, we are here to help you choose the heaven you desire."
"Oh?"
"Yes, the representatives of each heaven are going to make a sales pitch. But you get to choose, in the end."
"Where is the heaven where I can see my parents?"
There was a silence.
"I am sorry my boy. You cannot see the living."
"But... I really want to see them...I...I...miss them so much..."
The boy started crying.
"If you try to go back to the living we shall stop you."
And then it became obvious to the boy.
"In here, my sheer force of will can do...anything."
He made a big grin. As he increased the size of his body and mass.
"Do not do this boy. We are gods, we can defeat you."
"Maybe you are gods but I...AM...SUPER GOD."
And so the boy fought the legions of the hollows. Defeating all faiths with his alone. For in this realm the true gods are mortals armed with the freedom of choice.
As all deities lied defeated, a nordsman with a hammer came before him.
"You truly are the mightiest. I, Thor, son of Odin, bow to your will and shall help you go back to the realm of life."
"I love you Thor! Especially in comic number 87!"
"What?"
"Nothing, I am just a big fan."
"Oh, thank you. To reach the living we have to defeat the master of the dead."
And so Micheal and Thor went on to battle death itself. As its black form was melted by Micheal's will to live again a portal opened. It was his house.
"Farewell Michael. Live with honor!" said Thor as the boy disappeared into the portal.
The gate ceased to be and Thor sighed.
He removed his silly clothing and allowed his age to appear again.
Then the ancient walked out a door and found God waiting for him.
"Live with honor? What was that?"
"I don't know. I improvised."
"But he bought it all?"
"Yes, of course."
"Good."
"Good? We just lied to a child with this grotesque farce."
"Dont blame the child for having simple childish taste."
"I blame you for making him believe he could escape death. To turn his after life into an illusion. What kind of heaven did you make for him?"
"The kind he wanted."
"He didnt choose this after life!"
"He didn't choose to live in the first place."
"I keep teeling you to stop building those kind of heavens but you never listen.There is no arguing with you. I hope this was worth it."
The old man left.
God looked upon the section of heaven the kid resided in now. A perfect recreation of earth at the time of his death.
The boy embraced his parents.
"You did it Michael. You defeated death through sheer force of will like you promised us. We are so proud of you!"
The boy smiled, and cried.
And that is when God knew.
Yes it was worth it.
| As I stood, scratching my head, I looked around at the strange landscape. All I could see was gently rolling hills, covered with what appeared to be albino grass. I poked a sprig with my foot. Well, it looked and felt like grass, anyway. As I looked around I saw something in the distance, on a hill which rose slightly above the others around it. I began to walk.
The distance seemed to go by quickly, as if time itself was of little consequence. In a time that seemed both short and an eon, I arrived at my destination.
A man in a white robe sat on a rock, a stick resting over his knees, as he gazed into the distance as if looking for something.
"Where am I?" I asked.
"Where do you think you are?" He asked, turning his gaze towards me. I paused.
"The last thing I remember I was going down the hill at the park on my bike towards the lake and then..." I stopped, thinking. "I'm dead, aren't I?"
"Yes, but that is not what you asked."
"Is this heaven? Where is everyone else?"
"This is, in a sense, limbo. The place in between - no one of mine stays here long."
As he spoke I looked around, puzzled. There were strange piles of objects about the man on the rock.
"Who are you? Also, what are those? I asked, gesturing to the piles around him."
"If you were mine, you would know my voice and know who I am." He said simply. "Those, well, they are your Gods."
"What - but I don't believe in Gods?" I said, feeling a little frustrated. This was not making sense at all. Why would he say these things were Gods? There was what looked like a pile of novels near him, what looked like a heap of football banners a few yards away and a pile of cars just down the hill. I could also see piles of what looked like gold, jewellery and other oddments.
"Those are your Gods. The things which you spent your life upon, the things in which you trusted. In which you chose to believe." He said, as if reading my thoughts.
I looked again, seeing these things around him, which in this crisp white light seemed a little less important than they did in life.
"Well what use is that? Now what do I do?" I asked him.
"The Gods you chose in life, now they have come to claim the value of your soul."
"My soul has value?" I asked, mystified.
"Indeed." He said drily. I was getting the sense he had had this conversation before.
"Well how was I supposed to know that?"
"Did you ever stop to ask, to think?"
"No, I was busy! All the things I had to do..."
"Had to?"
"Well, wanted to. I had to do a some of them!" I said defensively.
"Once you chose them, yes" he said.
"No-one told me I had another choice!" I protested.
He stared at me, silent.
"Well, you didn't. I would have listened to you." I said, not quite knowing why I trusted him.
"I called, you did not listen. I called, you did not answer. Now, as you have chosen in life, your Gods will take the currency of your soul and return to you reward as they have power."
As he said this I felt something slip away from me. The piles of objects sank into the ground, having taken, yet unable to return.
I waited. "Nothing is happening." I said, staring at him.
"As your response to me in life, I offer the same." He said, and walked away into the distance.
I wanted to chase after him but found I could not, as I had not learnt to walk like he did while in life. If only I could learn how to walk as he did, how to follow his voice out of this lonely place.
It seemed to late for that. | 2017-07-09T04:48:05 | 2017-07-09T04:02:59 | 39 | 16 |
[WP] You're a high level black mage with a few healing spells but everyone thinks you're a terrible cleric because you only ever use healing spells. | I have stood on the edge of chaos, and fought back oblivion. I have held the world aloft in my hands and saved it from the death eaters. I have fought countless battles against terrible foes. I have died and been reborn. My name is feared throughout the multiverse.
But at last I have found peace.
In a small town near to Murkhaven.
As a lowly healer.
I will not smite. I will not judge. I will not forgive your sins. That is not my place. I will heal all who ask.
All.
The cuts and scraped knees of the town’s children have been healed more times than I have counted.
They know me, and they trust me.
Not as my real name, or my old self; as Henric the Healer, cleric of a god you cannot see, cannot hear, and cannot name. I do not push my belief on anyone, and nor do I proselytise the ardent students who pass through, eager to learn great favours from their gods, eager to mould the world into the image of the gods they believe are all-powerful.
I just heal.
The mother of the jilted lover who brings her son’s still warm corpse to me. I go to where his hurting soul cries out for peace, and I sit with him for as long as it takes for him to calm. My time encircling his spirit, allowing change; allowing remorse; allowing tears to fall, and the desire for life to return.
I heal his body as I guide him back to the arms of his family. The dagger gone from his heart, and filled once more with his life force, he shudders as he draws breath once more, and tears of relief wash away the tears of despair.
I heal all who ask.
The orcs attacked at sunset on the third day of the harvest. Some said that the Duke’s men had stirred them up. Some said that the orcs do not need an excuse to fight.
The townsfolk fought back, but they are farmers and barkeeps, housekeepers and children. They are not skilled in the art of war.
They asked me to help them.
So I healed their wounds as they formed. I walked amidst the battlefield, healing cuts, soothing burns, reattaching limbs.
I could have ended it in an instant. I could have sent the orcs to a fiery death. I could have placed them in unimaginable torture for all eternity.
But that is not my place.
And I have found peace.
The orc soldier had a pitchfork through his face. It was embedded in his skull, and had stuck him to the strong oak beams of the inn. The thatch was on fire, so he had only a few minutes at best.
He caught my eye with what remained of his, and the pain was evident in his cracked voice.
“Help me, human. I beg you.”
His voice was young. Probably only seven turns old. An adult in name only.
And I help all who ask.
All.
Black dust formed around my arms, and tendrils of power reached out to the impaled orc. He saw death reach for him, and a tear formed in his remaining eye.
But the death was not for him, but for the pitchfork. It needed disintegrating, and it crumbled past dust and into nothingness. The orc’s brain was healed with a quick burst of time magic, gathered from the forbidden realms.
He stumbled forward, away from the flames, and I caught him, and offered him a drink from my water flask.
“Atralak! Uk!”
The cry was accompanied by a trumpet blast, and the fights and cries stilled to a standstill after a few moments.
The orcs had stopped pressing their attack, and the wary and intimidated townsfolk stayed put in their defensive positions.
The orc captain, his red shoulder plates signifying three years of leadership pointed at me as he shouted, “You! Cleric! You healed Ulk.”
I nodded.
His eyes narrowed, “Why?”
“Because he asked for help.”
“Orcs do not ask for help! They take what they need!”
I said nothing. It was not a question, and I had no desire to play his games.
My silence seemed to enrage him, but as he was about to speak again, Ulk stepped forward beside me with two good eyes, and a distinct lack of pitchforks in his face. It gave the captain pause.
“Father-brother-kin, let us go home.”
I looked at Ulk with eyebrows raised. To say I was surprised was an understatement. To mention kinship in public was just not done in orc circles. It was like telling off a child, or chastising an errant servant.
There was more going on here than was apparent, and the quick whistle-hum that escaped the lips of the captain confirmed that for me.
Ulk stopped three orcs as they walked towards the woods to the east.
“Please heal these three,” he said in broken common. The townsfolk nearest gasped, and I realised that they had not understood the words in orcish.
“If they ask me, I will.”
One by one, they asked for healing, and I gave it to them. I left them with good scars. It would improve their standing in the clan.
Ulk stood alone before me, and spoke once more before he left.
“Peace, Orcbane.”
That wasn’t my real name, either, but the orcs had called me that after the end of the Troglodyte Wars.
So many dead. So many lost. And no real winners.
He trotted off after his brothers, and I called out after him, “Call me Henric.”
He turned briefly, and saluted in orc military tradition, hand thumping his chest.
The townsfolk looked at me with wary eyes, but I have found peace. They will forget in a turn or two, and their fear will subside. The seasons are easier to bear with each healing. Each cure heals me, too.
I heal all who ask.
I am Henric the Healer.
And I have found peace. | I took this in a slightly different way, where the black mage doesn't know any healing spells. Hopefully it still works!
___
Brath aimed his eyes to the sky, the blue infinity stretching out past the jagged tops of mountains, and he breathed in. *Don't kill anyone today. Remember what they told you about managing anger. Too much fury will not cure me.* But his blood *was* boiling as he breathed out, looking down towards the canvas of green grass, rolling hills bumping the verdant landscape. Evergreen trees, swaying in the gentle breeze, gathered at the horizon, echoes of a forest long past. It was scenic. Peaceful. Brath ground his teeth, clenching his hands into quivering fists. *Why can't things be this peaceful?* His eyes sailed down towards the fallen... orc? Brath shook his head. Why did their paladin *have* to be an orc? They were magic resistant! Brath turned his head, taking in the arrow stuck in the orc's thigh. Next to him was a fidgety dwarf, holding a bow.
"I know I said we needed to have friendly fires..." Brath thought about the cook fires. These two had been cold to everyone, even Tyi. Brath jolted his head towards the arrow. "But this is taking it a little too far, don't you think," he asked with a shrug.
The dwarf pivoted so fast that his bow, which was dragging on the ground, cracked the side of Rax's head. The slap of wood resounded through the emptiness of the green. And the orc grimaced, trying to look away from the black mage. "Ha, ha, good one, Aurin." The orc looked up towards Brath, wincing. "S-see, no pain here. Just friends being friends." Rax's leg was bleeding.
Aurin gulped. "Y-yeah, friends being fr—."
"Please stop talking." Brath rasped out, shaking his head. Orcs and dwarves never worked well with each other. And why was *Aurin* their archer? *Kids and their dreams.* But that arrow was no dream. Brath pointed towards the arrow with a jerk of his thumb. "Rax, you and I both know that's gotta come out."
Rax winced.
Brath sighed, rolling his eyes. He wasn't *that* bad of a healer. Was he? Moving towards the arrow, Brath cracked his jaw. *This shouldn't be too bad*, he thought as he wiggled his fingers, limbering himself up, cracking his neck.
*Alright, check to see if it punctured.* Rax muffled a scream as Brath lifted up his leg, contorting to see the other side. *Well, not punctured.* Brath dropped the leg, letting it thud against the ground. Rax yelped. Aurin grimaced.
*Okay, check to see if the arrow is lodged too far.* Brath grabbed the arrow's shaft, tugging and twisting it. For some reason, more blood was bellowing out of the wound now. The shaft stood slanted now. And Rax was crying now. "Oh shush, you," Brath said, shaking his head. This had been all their fault.
*Well, break the shaft and push it through.* Brath's face quirked up. Was that how it was supposed to go? With a shrug—Rax would be okay after some healing—Brath snapped the arrow's shaft in two. Rax screamed. Brath shook his head. "You're being a crybaby, you know that," he said as he slammed his palm down on the broken shaft, punching the arrowhead through the orc's thigh.
No more screams came out of Rax as the crimson orc blood clumped itself on the grasslands, the arrow's head glinting from the yellow sunlight as it stuck out of Rax's thigh. "Strange," Brath said with a slow tempo of confusion. "I swore it was sticking down, not to the side... I wonder who could have done that?" He shrugged as a grin appeared on his face. Now it was time for the good stuff. Now it was time for his *magic.* Well, not his magic. He would have set this picturesque grassland into red-wrought oblivion. Fire was his best attribute.
Now, he had his blood pressure to look after. Too much anger could send him in a heart attack, and the black mage grimaced at the thought of such a boring death. As it turned out, training new blood was rather fun, and becoming a cleric wasn't too hard. After all, healing magic *really* was easy. It was basically like fire.
With a smile, Brath's hands began to glow with a pulsing dark carmine, turning to bright orange and, at last, to a vibrant blue. Flames danced between his fingertips, eating up the gentle springtime air around him. "Now, let's close that wound."
Rax didn't scream at all once again. For the orc had fainted. And Aurin was growing greener by the moment, the smell of flesh wafting in the springtime air.
Only Brath was grinning as he moved his hands along the orc's thigh. Healing was so much fun, he mused to himself as he slapped the orc's thigh. "Good as new," he shouted, looking at the charred and mangled flesh. "Good as new," Brath repeated. Who knew healing could be so easy.
___
Thank you for reading! And if you'd like more of my stories, then they are here at r/WritingKnightly! | 2021-09-03T10:55:58 | 2021-09-03T08:25:10 | 669 | 108 |
[WP] You are the world's best hired assassin. Your trick is to remain undetected. Your specialty? Killing people in the most bizarre ways possible that nobody questions it. | “Detective, how did the victim die?” I already knew how the guy died. I was the one that killed him; but I wasn’t going to tell my boss that, of course.
Daniels walked around the flat, camera in hand, looking for more evidence around the body. “I don’t really know, Eagle Eye. Look around and report back to me if you find anything.”
I love investigating my own murders. Why? So I can show off to my co-workers. With all of the murders I’ve investigated, I was always the one that found the most evidence, and it is *hard* to find sometimes, which is why my nickname in the precinct is Eagle Eye.
One time, I killed a guy by ripping his jaw clean off with a piece of hot wire, leaving it in the pipes under his sink. Brutal, but it keeps my peers of my scent.
The victim today was a 22 year-old surgeon who messed up a guys operation and regretted it. His cause of death? Cyanide poisoning. There were no cyanide pills in the house or on his body when we found him, but there was 5 large, empty almond bottles around him. I took the time to hand feed him ten pounds of almonds so he would die of cyanide.
I have too much time on my hands.
(Not the best I know but it was on a whim) | They call me Rube. My specialty? Letting my clients collect on double indemnity life insurance clauses.
​
I blame Daffy Duck and Wile E. Coyote. The more complicated and insane? It is almost better than sex. Let me tell you about my most recent... subject.
​
For my client to collect, the subject had to die from being struck by a coconut, knocked loose by fireworks on the 4th of July. The planning for this was complicated to say the least. First was the contest for two to Hawaii. Then arranging the sunset outdoor dinner - very romantic. Then the fireworks display, and I do say that was some of my better work - getting that one shot to hit the palm tree, raining coconuts down upon the diners. There was a little collateral damage, minor injuries - except for my subject of course. The drone dropping the weighted coconut was timed perfectly. I gave my client the video from the drone when I collected my payment. She laughed. All the way to the bank. | 2019-06-14T23:33:18 | 2019-06-14T23:16:16 | 39 | 17 |
[WP] Your final wish to the Djinn is to meet the girl who will be your perfect soulmate. Just then you hear an ear piercing scream... your best friend/roommate just turned into a girl.
She (he?) still has all the memories of her (his?) previous life; but others might not.
Also consider what the other wishes might have been.
EDIT: Feel free to reverse the genders if you like. It does not have to be a boy turned girl. | Decided to keep the same WP but with a twist
I could hear his screams echo through the house.
"Whelp that's all from me then, bye" The Djinn shrugged his shoulders before vanishing into dust. Running to Jake's room I opened the door only to see him fondling his new breasts in shock.
"Why do I have breasts? Where did my dick go?" Jake mutters silently in a mix of shock and awe. I'm wracking my brain to figure out what the hell just happened.
"But... I wished for a...soulmate?" I question out loud. Jake turns to face me.
"I told you that genie was a bad idea. Now why the hell did you wish me to be a girl?"
I'm lost for words, this wish made no sense. I loved Jake as a brother but this?
"I asked for a soulmate. Not for you to turn into a girl."
"Am I like this permanently?" I can see the fear building up in Jake's eyes, for a long time we had always shared the thought of changing genders but for once perhaps those fantasies were better left in the mind.
"Look I'm going to call the Djinn okay?"
I rush out of the room leaving Jake to himself. As I leave I can hear him moan, "God how are my parent's going to accept this."
"I know you're there Azazel, come out and explain yourself." I call out to my room. The light flickers on and off and a supernatural gust fills the room before Azazel appears once again before me.
"I told you my wishes are not to be trifled with kiddo. Once made they can't be changed." He tutted while mock examining his nails.
"I know that but..." I pause, the answers to my question was exactly one that I wanted to hear. "Why Jake? Why is he a girl?"
"The wishes grant your deepest darkest desires, they examine you as a whole and creates what you want. I don't have much control over the outcome. I am simply a vessel between worlds." He explained floating down to my eye level.
"You have some soul searching to do. What I give to you is what you truly desire. Suppress that as much as you want. But the wishes do not lie."
I ponder this new information. My suspicions were clarified.
"Really? It's Jake then?"
"Yup, don't bother me again. Enjoy your life with your new Girlfriend."
The Djinn cackled before vanishing once again into dust. I walk slowly back to Jake's room only to see him once again playing with his boobs like a child with a new toy. His cute expression on his new face along with the adorable giggles he produced from his new feminine lips made me realize that What the Djinn said was right.
"Hey Jake?" I begin my apology but he/she looks up at me, and grins. "I heard, don't worry about it."
I sigh before sitting on the ground next to my soulmate.
"It's really me that you like? Like this?" He asks nudging me on the arm.
"Yeah...You don't mind? Do you?"
Jake nuzzled up to me and smiled. "I've always sorta had a crush on you anyway. This doesn't change that."
"I love you Jake"
"I love you too Lina"
Edit: made a few adjustments to the story | "So you're telling me that you wished to meet the girl who'll be your perfect soulmate."
"Yeah."
"And then I turned into a girl."
"...Yeah."
"Well, let's not jump to conclusions. It's perfectly possible that this is just a coincidence, and that I just happened to spontaneously become a girl at the same time you made your wish, and the two things are completely unrelated."
"Uh-huh."
My roommate stopped pacing. "Are you even listening to me?" she asked, turning to me.
I blinked. "Uh, sorry. I just can't help but stare."
"At my boobs?"
"No, um, well, not... really?"
She folded her arms and looked at me.
"Look, it's just kind of hard to wrap my head around the whole thing," I said, rubbing my eyes. "I mean, you're being surprisingly calm about all this."
"I did faint in the beginning, though. But I guess I'm pretty okay after the initial shock," she said, massaging her temples. "I've always been pretty adaptable to sudden developments."
"Or maybe the genie made it so that you wouldn't be freaking out about it," I wondered aloud.
"Or I might just be in denial." She took a deep breath. "But still. Are we supposed to be soulmates?"
"W-well, you know, I never really thought about it until now, but soulmates don't necessarily have to be romantic. Because soulmates are just two people who just really click with each other, so really good friends could also be considered soulmates, right?"
"So it just means we're really compatible?"
"I guess it would've meant that we would've been really good friends if..."
"If I had stayed a guy," she finished. "But what's to say we can't still be friends now?"
"I mean, a guy and a girl... Being soulmates? That practically means... Well..."
I trailed off, and an awkward silence followed. We were both blushing, and I couldn't meet her gaze.
She was the one to break the silence. "Look, I was never really liked the concept of soulmates, anyway. The idea that a person can't be complete without someone else being there for them? It's just kind of stupid."
"So..."
"Ugghhhh," she groaned, placing her hands over her eyes. "This is such a pain."
"Um, sorry."
"No, it's all right." She sniffed, and when she put her hands back down I saw that her eyes were a bit teary. "I'm gonna go to the restroom," she said, standing up and leaving.
"Um, I guess we could still try to be friends?" I called after her, but she didn't respond when she closed the door behind her.
I couldn't blame her if she resented me for what happened to her. Even if we were supposed to be soulmates, I doubted she would want to be friends with me, much less start dating me after all this. I mean, it's not like she was in love with me or anything. Right? | 2014-08-19T11:27:56 | 2014-08-19T11:05:19 | 59 | 21 |
[WP] Your family line suffers from a pirate curse: A demonic shark will manifest itself in nearby sources of water and harrow you and your ancestors. You live three-hundred miles from any body of water and this has made the shark get...creative. | "Shit. This was a bad idea."
I jumped up from the couch in a panic, my laptop flipping off my knees and scattering my breakfast across the glass coffee table.
"Who - what..." But there was no one there. How tanked had I gotten last night, anyway? My head was pounding, there were Fruit Loops stuck to my keyboard, and now I was hearing voices. And people thought I was batshit crazy already.
I grabbed some paper towels from the kitchen and a spray bottle to clean up the mess.
"Fucking vinegar. Who cleans with vinegar?!"
"Aaaagh! What the hell?" The voice was unmistakeable, but there was no one in the room. Hell, there wasn't a soul for miles. Just sand, redrock and sage.
"It's me, dipshit."
The voice was in my head. I don't mean that I imagined it. I mean it was *in* my head. It was real, and that meant...
It couldn't be. But there was no other explanation... "Ju'awhe?"
"Yes, asshole. In the flesh. Oh, that's rich - 'In the flesh'." The voice trailed off in unintelligible grumbling.
"But - how? What -? I don't understand. Where are you?"
"I ran out of options. Moving to the desert wasn't all that novel, but you really committed to the part. How the hell can someone live off whiskey and dry goods alone? You forced me to get creative."
I was confused, but starting to put the pieces together. My own personal Demon, Ju'awhe the Render, had been dogging my steps since my 18th birthday. It was a family thing. Thanks, great-great-whoever. Way to go, pissing off Calypso. Good move, there.
"So you - " I began, but the voice in my head cut me off sharply.
"Yes! You didn't leave me any alternative, you mortal prick. 60% water. All you meat bags. It was all I had left to work with."
"Oh, jesus - that's gross. You're actually *inside* me??" I was used to the ever-present sense of dread our family curse brought with it, but I'd never before felt...violated.
"Now you're catching on, bright boy."
"Then why aren't I dead? And why do you sound... I don't know... kind of normal? I would have thought you'd be all 'Forsooth, Your Doom has Arrived!!' or something. You sound like a pissed off New York cabbie."
"Yeah. That's the thing. 60% ain't enough to really get me *here*... not all the way. I'm not exactly myself, ya'know? I'm 40% you, and unless you feel like chewing your arms and legs off... well, we're both screwed."
"Oh. Ok." I sat down back down on the couch. My life had never been normal, but this was taking things to a new level. While the future certainly looked less terrifying, I had a sinking feeling the new paradigm was going to bring whole new vistas of annoyance.
"What now?" I asked.
"Beats me. Jesus, we smell. When was the last time you took a bath?"
| I clutch my boarding pass. This is the most afraid I've ever been.
I thought I was safe. I'd moved to Regina and taken a job in potash futures. You know how much water there is in southern Saskatchewan? Not a whole lot. You know how utterly, completely boring it is to spend eight hours a day gambling on crop production? Pretty goddamned boring.
I'd learned how to sponge-bathe. I only drank pop. I got low-capacity toilets and set them to the lowest possible setting. I gave up on *bidets*, which, let me tell you about sacrifices.
I thought I was safe. I thought the shark wouldn't get me.
But here I am, heading to a conference in Vancouver, practically the capital of water since it's *right on the Pacific Ocean* and *half the city is on islands in a delta*, because my bosses are *demanding* my presence at the conference.
I don't get it. I can do my job just fine from home. I can telecommute. What's so important about being there in person? Ever since we got bought by Carcharodon Partners SA, we've been making some bad calls, I think.
I board the plane. Normally, I'm good with planes. They're 30,000 feet from any water other than what's in the bottles, and the toilets never have water in them anyway. But I'm so consumed with terror I can hardly think about that.
It's just a little Bombardier Q400, typical for in-Canada flights. I have one seatmate, a dour-looking fellow with black eyes in a grey business suit.
"Good day for a flight, eh?"
He turns and looks out the window. "Probably. I've never been good with flying."
I hold out my hand. It's shaking. I try to stop it from shaking. It doesn't work.
"Jared Alderhorn. I'm with Verde Agritech. I'm headed to a conference in Vancouver, I'm pretty excited!"
He doesn't hold out his hand. He's still looking out the window. "Nice to meet you."
I drop my hand and settle in for a long flight.
The flight attendants trundle by with their cart. I pass on the water like I always do and get a Coke instead. My seatmate, however, gets three bottles, and instantly downs them all, like a man dying of thirst.
When he's done, he looks at me disdainfully. "No water for you?"
"No, it's.... it's just not my thing. I need a little caffeine, you know?"
"Ah."
He pauses for a moment. "Alderhorn, you said?"
"Sure am."
He starts to smile. "That conference you're headed to... is that the one being put on by Carcharodon Partners?"
"Sure is! How'd you know?"
The smile is almost wider than his mouth. I can see his teeth. Too many teeth.
"I'm the CEO of Carcharodon. And let me tell you, I'm very.... *very* excited to finally meet you." | 2018-11-22T08:29:23 | 2018-11-22T08:27:00 | 1,908 | 371 |
[WP] At a run down food place, you place a special order which just happens to be a codeword for their illegal sidebusiness. Your attempts at clarification are just further codewords to them. | Even before I entered, I could tell there was something off about “Ed’s Pizza Rita.” The lights were only half lit on the sign, making it read “d zz it” in the harsh afternoon sun. Being on a road trip with no other food options for miles didn’t leave me much of a choice besides this place.
When I enter, I get this strange feeling. It’s like the opposite of a TARDIS, as everything in here seems more cramped and smaller than the outside suggested. I was the only person there, save the cashier behind the counter. Despite claiming to serve pizza, the menu options included burgers, tacos, and fried chicken but no pizza.
“Hi, can I have a cheese pizza, I mean, burger.” I was really looking forward to pizza, but a cheese burger would do.
“A cheese pizza burger,” the cashier repeated. The way he was looking at me made my skin crawl. “I know what you need, follow me.”
He gestured towards the employee only exit. When I didn’t immediately follow his lead, he turned back in confusion.
“Is there a problem?”
“I was just looking for pizza, I don’t-“
He cut me off, “Aren’t we all just looking for,” here it was clear his voice was giving this word air quotes “pizza?”
I think his idea of pizza and mine were two different things. I was going to make a break for the exit, but this time the cashier grasped my hand to lead me through the employee only door.
The back room was much nicer than I had expected. There was a vending machine with non food products I couldn’t identify and a single table in the center of the room. At that table, an impressive looking woman sat, looking particularly unimpressed at our entrance.
“I found another one, Ma’am,” the cashier told the woman excitedly.
She holds up a hand and he immediately is silent. She turns her head, slowly towards me. Her gaze is so intense, I wouldn’t be surprised if she could see into my soul.
“Sit,” she commands. I do so across from her. She steeples her fingers and waits for me. When i don’t say anything, she prompts me. “Speak.”
“I was just craving pizza. The empty road doesn’t leave many options. My directions told me you were the only place open within a 50 mile radius.”
This makes her mouth quirk up into what some might generously describe as a smile. “We are indeed open. An option on this empty road you speak of. The question is, do you currently have the dough to make the pizza?”
Who carries around pizza dough? That’s what I want to ask, but this woman intimidated me, so I say no in the politest way possible. “Not on my person, but I’m sure with the right ingredients I could pull something together.”
This time, she really did smile. It scared me. “Perfect,” she purred. “I’ll provide some of the more difficult ingredients if you can provide delivery.”
“I have a car, but I’ve never delivered pizza before in it.” I had no idea where this conversation was going. Am I getting hired as a pizza deliverer? This is the weirdest interview I’ve ever been in.
“Ahh, that’s even better. I think we can do business. I’ll have my assistant pull up the blueprints.” She sticks out a manicured hand. I shake it, feeling her nails dig into my skin. I don’t know what just happened, But I’m pretty sure I’m not getting any actual pizza any time soon.
[r/bluestarsshatter](https://www.reddit.com/r/bluestarsshatter/) | I stopped at the diner on the way into the City. It definitely wasn’t winning any Michelin stars, but it was the only thing open at 2 am and I needed a hot cup of coffee. The bell above the door rang as I went in. There was no one inside, so I sat down at the counter and waited.
After a moment, the line cook came out of the back. He looked more like a linebacker than a line cook. Tattoos covered his muscular arms, and the dingy white apron was fighting a losing battle to stay fastened across his massive chest. He looked me over with a raised eyebrow. “I don’t recognize you.” He said at last through a thick Brooklyn accent.
“First time in.” I said. “Could I get a cup of coffee?”
He started a bit at that. There was a pot on the counter behind him, so his confusion was odd. “YOU want a cup of coffee?” he repeated, looking at me closely. “You don’t look like the type to want coffee. Not the usual type we get asking for coffee, if you get my drift. No offense, pal.”
I wasn’t offended, but I also didn’t want to offend him. “I understand. I just need to get into the City, and I need coffee.”
He chuckled and shrugged. “You’re right about that, pal. How you want that coffee?”
“Black.”
“BLACK?!” He walked over to the kitchen. “Hey Jackie! We got a fella out here wants some coffee! Black!” he glanced back at more once again over his shoulder. “He don’t look like the type to take his coffee black.”
A deep rumbling voice came rolling out of the kitchen. “He wants it black you give it black. Ain’t NOBODY coming in here asking for BLACK COFFEE at this time of night that don’t need it!”
The cook turned back around. “OK, pal. I’ll get your coffee. I just hope you can handle it!”
This exchange had gone on much longer than I expected. “Can I please get it to go? I asked. “I’m in a little bit of a time crunch here.”
He burst out laughing and walked into the back. I could hear him chuckling in the kitchen as he rattled around. The whole time the coffee pot on the counter stared me in the face. There was a heavy dragging sound and the swinging door opened. He came back out carrying a large black case. He walked past me without saying a word and placed it on the back seat of my car. He came back in, dusting his hands. “Good luck pal. I hope you get that coffee to the right guy. Haha.” His eyes lit on the coffee pot as he came back in. “Hey, pal how’s about a cup for you too!” He poured me a cup into a dingy mug, then walked back into the kitchen chuckling once again. “Jackie, I poured him a cup a coffee after giving him the coffee. Haha. Get it?”
I went out to my car. My hands were shaking as I snapped open the clasps and opened the case. I knew I was in trouble already, but I let out an involuntary sigh as I saw what was inside. This looked like it was going to be an explosive day. | 2019-10-20T06:54:27 | 2019-10-20T06:25:58 | 116 | 59 |
[WP] You're a scientist working on a new super-powerful microscope. One day while looking at your own body, you see a very suspicious skin cell. Upon (much) closer inspection, you discover that micro-organisms have founded an advanced civilization, and you're not quite sure what to do about it. | Caitlin knew that she had watched too much Simpsons when, upon seeing the towering buildings and metropoles on her skin, she immediately thought about a Treehouse of Horrors episode in which Lisa accidentally grows life from coca cola and a tooth. She giggled for a quick moment before collecting herself in the moment again. She began pacing the room and thinking, 'Does it count as a war crime if I take a shower? Do I make myself their god?' What a miracle she had found this, this civilization emerging from the nothingness of some dust on her left arm. There were countless scientific questions that could be answered, entire realms of philosophy that could be created from this discovery.
​
Caitlin was alone at the lab that night, but suddenly she felt as if she had been dropped into the city center. She looked out at the night sky, gazing at the few stars that were bright enough to break through the light pollution. 'What would happen if an alien species found us?' She asked herself. It was a fair enough point, and maybe it was only human pessimism that depicted it as an apocalyptic invasion by beings more powerful than ourselves. But maybe it wasn't just pessimism, and there are some things that should be feared about first contact. No one person should make a decision that will impact that many lives forever. This civilization on her arm was industrialized but no futuristic utopia. They had their own issues to solve, and encountering beings millions of times larger than themselves was no way to help out with that.
​
Caitlin brought the skin flake to her house and set it in a small terrarium. She put a lid over it, and left it alone. These beings may never learn of what she did, but she knew it at least. | The scientist sat in his swivel chair, staring at the monitor in front of him with a look of existential horror on his face. he had discovered a universe harbouring tiny yet advanced civilisation, inside one of his cells. After taking a few moments to process what he was looking at, he slowly turned off the monitor and stood up. He walked over to the cabinet across the laboratory, and looked through the glass door. Inside there were shelves, laden with bottles and beakers of various chemicals, organised by properties. He found a cluster of bottles with the ubiquitous “flammable” symbol, took as many of them as he could carry, and set them down on his desk. One by one, he took off the caps, and emptied the contents onto the desk. He then set about opening all the gas taps, gradually filling the room with highly flammable methane gas. Out of his pocket, he produced a gas powered lighter, used to light the methane burners in experiments that require heat, and set light to the desk. He sat down in his chair, looked out the window at the sky and imagined a similar situation playing out for the scientists on the next universal level up. He closed his eyes and thought of futility, as the methane in the air around him ignited.
Thank you for reading. It’s nothing special, just something I thought of straight away after reading the prompt, so it’s not going to be perfect. Constructive criticism is welcome, please feel free to point out areas that could be improved. | 2019-02-01T12:33:17 | 2019-02-01T10:57:59 | 20 | 12 |
[Wp] And then the alien took off his helmet, revealing a human face and said: "What are guys doing here? You guys were supposed to colonize Mars, not Earth!" | "Me?" I said to the dapper looking gentleman, in his shiny new suit. Must've brought it back from the war.
"Yes, you. Why are you not on the red planet?" He responded, seemingly confused by me spending my time spitting in a jar.
"What red planet?" I said as I managed to pack some more chew, waiting for the Mrs. to come home from the market.
"It's just a horp & a sklip away, why didn't you complete the mission and where the fuck is Johnson?" At this point, the man started getting flushed and talking fast. I offer him to come inside, to enjoy some water and the evening breeze.
"You guys drink water? Oh my god, they went Promethean on the wrong fucking planet!"
| "Guys here? Thats mad!" she thought.
No one had seen a live guy since the women all got fed up and left for the stars, 100's of years ago.
She felt a weird sensation ripple down her body, from the nape of her neck to her knees.
Her cheeks flushed as the guy got closer.
To think, she was the first woman of space to see a man in over 100 years! | 2016-10-19T11:55:45 | 2016-10-19T08:37:26 | 27 | 16 |
[WP] Friendly fire mode is disabled. Members of the same species cannot harm each other by any means. For humanity, this means no person can be hurt by any event, invention, or extended means caused or wielded by human beings. This has led to some elaborate workarounds. | “But it’s barbaric!” the lawyer pleaded before the judge.
His client had been convicted of murder before “things changed”. One of the last people to have taken someone’s life.
When the man was found guilty and sentenced to death, there had been a lot of consternation among the talking heads. If they got it wrong, as most people expected, the state would have to set him free, as the law allowed. People were pretty sure trying to give him a lethal injection wouldn’t work. Strapping him into an electric chair was out, even with a timer. The summer of the “Electric Chair Challenge” has proven that. There were whispers they’d considered a dunking chair before settling on the solution they’d picked.
Ultimately, even the judge decided to show some leniency and suggested the short sword and buckler when the prisoner hesitated.
As the cheers of the crowd filled AT&T Stadium, beneath the banner of the great state of Texas, the lions, now officially deputized executioners of the law, entered the other side of the arena.
(sorry if this is a little off, it’s my first time trying to respond to a prompt, and I’m stuck on mobile) | It's bullshit I can't shoot them now.
You ever build a tomb around someone? Pain in the ass.
Takes all fucking night then you need to make sure Noone heard the moans/screams 3 weeks to starve thier ass is a hell of a long time.
They say you can kidnap and tie them down instead of trapping them but it's so fucking loud and thier so heavy I got places to be, and besides. It's so hard to restrain a man when you can't hurt them I can't just fucking lasso them.
At least the pays better use to be 15-25k a body now it's 3 weeks of hell for 1-2million not many of us can do it anymore.
OH well hell of a paycheck for a hell of a job wonder hwo you piss someone off enough for my prices...
(first time on mobile had no plans to write just Noone took this the way I wanted it so tried my best...plus I'm bad at wording) | 2019-03-06T18:41:00 | 2019-03-06T17:02:45 | 20 | 13 |
[WP]Abducted humans have, so far, all displayed the same internal organ structure common throughout the galaxy with only one exception. Every one of them has a Glarnak parasite beating inside their chest. They even think it's necessary for life. | The auras around the place were all magnificent. Red, green, purple, bright yellow. And there seemed to exist nothing else than auras and an endless, borderless white, the white of a doctor's waiting room, sterile and pure. The auras seemed to be dancing, always shifting a little, hovering, floating in the white nothingness.
One of the auras spoke:
"These organisms seem to be at the level where they have finally broken the atomic nucleus and are using it for energy. We are not sure how much longer until they are able to achieve contact with the rest of the sentient universe, but we are sure it will be between 2 and 5 chronols from now." as it spoke the last words, the yellow orb of light seemed to dim for a little, almost as if in distress.
"TWO? This is a little too soon than we anticipated now, isn't it?" another round orb of light answered, this one bright red and slightly larger than the other one. "you also said you had something else to tell me, something we didn't know so far? Was that it?"
"No, Great One. We did some more work on the physical vessels of these humans. We found every single one of them has a Glarnak inside their chest cavity. They call it a "heart" and it has managed a sort of relationship with their physical bodies. It feasts on most of the energy they are able to transfer from the oxygen and the food they consume."
"A Glarnak?! Impossible, the Glarnak have been extinct for aeons, we made sure each one died in the physical world, we sent everything we had against them. How could it be?"
"It seems that they survived only on this little planet... and they infected the whole place. They're in most organisms there, and the scary thing is they've evolved. They never stop as long as their host's physical body is alive. Not for one second. They are alert, they are deeply rooted in the bodies, so far that the humans believe they are all they have."
"What do you mean?" the red aura started getting more and more intense.
"They think the only life they get is the physical world. And they use everything at their disposal to keep the Glarnak inside them alive, at any cost. There's one more thing..." the yellow orb was starting to dim again, almost flickering
"But the Glarnak are still contained?" the red orb blared.
"We believe that the Glarnak have achieved such a deep relationship with their human hosts... that they merge their corporeal bodies with them too. They are riding them to our world. And there's billions of them on the way." | “Experiment zx62h3 has been wildly successful.”
That’s how I planned to start my presentation. It was my mentor who originally taught me that to be successful you must declare success.
The leading life form on planet Earth, mammalian creatures known as apes, have achieved a level 1 civilization.
“Soon,” I spoke to the mirror, “these Hoomans will start on a research branch which should lead them to become a type 2 civilization in roughly 300 Gramchik days, equivalent to 5 generations of hoomans.”
I tightened my scales and brushed my tongue. It was go time.
——-
“We are highly disturbed by the status of these hoomans.” Said third research officer Graamchuk.”
“I concur,” added security lieutenant Greemchak.
“How so?” I asked carefully. My promotion was dependent on these hoomans, and I’ve been waiting 150 thousand years.
“They haven’t shown sufficient subservience in their psychological profile. Obviously, someone made a mistake in the original genetic seeding of the local ape population.”
I saw where this was going. I had to nip it in the bud before specific words were spoken.
“On a completely different subject,” I said, “the potential return upon the harvest of their worlds, once they manage to tap the energy of their entire galaxy is significant. In fact, those involved stand to make a percentage out of that.”
——-
I took a ship to observe the hooman galaxy. Reports are well and good, but once in a while one needs to get one’s hands dirty and examine things for oneself.
“Sir, gama alert! Reversing course. Engaging protocol zulu.”
“What just happened? What are you talking about?”
“Symbiotic life form Glarnak detected. It doesn’t seem to be destroying its hosts, but rather acting as their circulatory system. It’s everywhere. I count three point oh five trillion infected. We must destroy this galaxy and report of this infestation. If it spreads, it could be the end of the empire.”
I took a deep breath. The captain was a simple creature. Unfortunately, he was on a mission from God - imperial military standard policy.
“Captain, on a completely different subject, have you planned for a corporate position on your next civilian cycle?”
—
For following my writing, join my subreddit at /r/posthocethics. | 2019-07-10T02:11:12 | 2019-07-10T02:01:43 | 281 | 70 |
[WP] Every person has a button they can press at night that deposits a large sum of money to their bank account. However, the first person to press it each night is horrifically killed. | The room was silent. No-one ever spoke at these things. The text message had been sent forty-three minutes ago. A location, a time. One by one we trickled in each of us with some grim purpose. At the door everyone showed three items to gain entrance: their button, their license, and the back of their left hand. Mrs. Chambers , a gray haired woman with penetrating eyes, recorded our names and stamped the back of our hands. Except for Tom. He'd tattooed his lucky number, 333, on the back of his hand and Mrs. Chambers always reserved it for him. No-one had been coming for as long as Tom and no-one was sure what he did with all the money.
Once your hand had been stamped Mrs. Chambers collected your cell phone. Unless you were Mr. Jones. Mr. Jones always called his family right after the first button had been pressed and his hand collected five stamps for the privilege. Only the first two thousand or so to press their button got any kind of reasonable sum so that phone call was quite the privilege. Mr. Jones needed the money, his daughter needed treatment for the cancer and he needed heroine for the stress. No-one judged Mr. Jones it's not like anyone else had better reasons for their presence or their addictions.
Once you were done with Mrs. Chambers you would walk through a door or a hallway to the main room. It's a different room every week and a different time too. No-one wants someone to get the reward without any of the risk. The only consistent feature is the large table in the front and the bingo cage that sits on it. Slowly the room started to fill up as the hour mark approached. No-one would be allowed in after that point and there are severe penalties for being stuck outside. As she clock struck 12:22, exactly one hour since the text message had been sent, Mrs. Chambers approached the table with a tray of tiles. Even though the whole room was full shoulder to shoulder not even a murmur could be heard. As Mrs. Chambers set down the tray of tiles with a sharp clack and began filling the cage the other consistent feature of our weekly gatherings emerged from among us. A tall man with gloved hands and a black featureless mask approached the table.
The rules are simple, if your number gets called you go to the front and push your button where everyone can see. This was not optional, I'd seen people try to back out and I'd seen the tools the masked man keeps in his breast pocket. You would push your button. The death was gruesome but there were things worse still. As soon as Mrs. Chambers finished filling the cage and left the room the masked man put his hands on the table and inquired “Are we ready to begin?” Seeing no dissent he started to turn the crank to operate the bingo cage. The sound of the tiles cascading over each other seemed almost deafening. As soon as the first tile tumbled out the masked man stopped leaving it sit on the tray as he checked his watch. Then we stood and waited.
We waited a bit longer. Sometimes the wait was short sometimes it was longer but it always seemed like hours. This time was no exception. I think the wait existed to throw off cheaters, or maybe the masked man got sadistic pleasure from watching us squirm. I knew he got such pleasure from other things. After what seemed an eternity the masked man checked his watch again and recovered the tile from where it lay. “ Three Three Four” He said with finality. I breathed a sigh of relief although I will admit a small part of me wished for it to be an end to Tom's winning streak. Tis thought did little to detract from my joy until I turned and saw Mr. Jones ashen face. “It's me,” he whimpered in a small voice “I have three three four” He said a bit stronger as he pushed his way towards the table.
“Please may I call my family to say goodbye”
At once discontent muttering ans shouts of “come now, sometimes it's already been pressed” filled the room but it became deafening as soon as the masked man said “No.”
Cries of “He put in a number for them” and “Bullshit” filled the room. Perhaps everyone felt it was unjust that Mr. Jones should end while it was so close to being tom. Perhaps they were all moved by his plight. Perhaps they all felt guilty for their part in this sordid affair but the crowd soon forced the masked man to relent.
The noise died down some to allow Mr. Jones to make his call.
“Hello honey, You can go ahead. The buttons been pressed. Love you. See you soon.”
And once again the room was silent.
Thank you for reading I hope you enjoyed. I welcome any comments or criticism as I am somewhat inexperienced at writing stories and hope to improve.
Edit 1: formatting
| Zach looks at the bright green numbers illuminating from the clock that lit his bedroom from his night stand: it is 11:56 P.M. Tucking his phone under the pillow, he quietly walk past his parent's bedroom to the living room, where the family computer is, and types in his username and password. Like every night, he knows that the computer won't finish loading until exactly 11:58. As it is loading, he leans back in his chair and tries to think of a time before The Button had existed.
********************************
The Button, as everybody referred to it as, was created after the Global Order came to power in 2045. The idea behind it, they said, was to destroy greed. In each time zone, when the time hit 00:00, The Button could be pressed. Every day. The only requirement was to have an internet connection and a computer, which was standard for everybody after the Global Internet Project was completed in 2054. Pressing the button would give the presser $10,000, sent immediately to their bank account. The only stipulation: the first person to press it in each timezone would die some horrific death.
Originally the people in charge or killing these people, the Global Police, were creative: tearing a person's body apart limb for limb, dragging people on the back of Global Order vehicles until they died, turning people in to living fires - all sorts of horrific stuff.
However, after a few years of all of this creative killing, the Police got bored. You can only throw a burning human off of a tall building while tied to a rope and watch them swing so many times before you get bored. So, they just resorted to shooting people in the head with a shotgun, and then going home to sleep each night.
This is where the Global Order's plan for eliminating greed backfired: people began using The Button as a way of suicide. Why OD on pills or jump off of a bridge when you could press a button and have yourself be killed in the comfort of your home? The Global Order didn't like that The Button was being used this way, but there was nothing they could do about it. The suicides didn't start happening like this until 2130, and by then everybody depended on - needed - The Button to survive.
A website, called the Death List, shows a picture, the name, and the cause of death of the first person to press The Button in each timezone each night. The cause of death, which is always predetermined, would be posted as soon as the first person pressed The Button, and the name of the person along with their picture was posted 10 minutes after it was pressed.
***************************
The computer finally finishes loading and Zach presses the Global Internet tab in the task bar. It is 11:58, just like every other night. "Two minutes 'til payday", Zach thinks to himself. Just enough time to get a glass of water. Quietly tip-toeing to the kitchen, he grabs a glass and fills it up with water from the sink. heading back to the family computer, he sits down in the chair and look at the time: 11:59 P.M., with 30 seconds to go until midnight.
20 seconds to go.
10 seconds.
Midnight.
You close your eyes and count to 15; the button is always pressed by 12:00:05, there are enough suicidal people to guarantee that, but you like to play it safe.
12:00:15.
Zach presses The Button, and it opens up a link to his bank account. In there he sees it already: a deposit for $10,000.
There was no point in checking it, the cause of death was always gun shot wound, but as part of his nightly routine, Zach checked the Death List to see what the cause of death would be before they posted the name and picture of the victim. What it said startled him. The screen read, "Cause of Death: Torture and Disembowelment". He quickly loaded up the Global News and saw the headline: "New Global Police Chief: The Horrifying Deaths Continue". "Interesting..." Zach thought to himself. He wasn't worried though, alls this meant was that he would probably have to change his bed time routine so that he didn't press the button so close to midnight, since painful deaths would weed out the suicidal people.
He x'ed out the news and went back to the Death List. He felt kind of bad, being tortured to death and disemboweled is about as gruesome as it can get. He sits intently in his chair, waiting for the victim of The Button to appear on his screen.
12:10:05.
12:10:07.
12:10:09.
12:10:11.
12:10:13.
Zach's veins turn to ice as he hears the burglar alarm go off.
| 2016-07-16T20:28:24 | 2016-07-16T20:08:19 | 57 | 18 |
[WP] You are a vampire hunter. Your roommate is a vampire. Neither of you can afford the apartment on your own so if one of you attacks the other you'll lose the apartment. The tension between you two is increasing by the day. | "I don't understand why it's so hard for you to clean the damn mirror!"
"I can't even use the mirror!"
"That makes it easier for you to clean! You can see all the spots!"
"Stop trying to distract me! This has nothing to do with the pre-diced garlic you keep buying. I told you you can only buy it fresh if you're going to use it even though a powder would be so much easier."
I leapt back into the argument. "You don't get the same depth of flavor with powdered garlic."
"That's not the point! You don't see me buying peanuts. I respect your allergies why won't you respect mine?"
I laughed, "Haha. Point."
"No! Don't you," he tried to stifle his smile but it was made harder by the fangs. "Don't you start!"
"Oh yeah? Am I...cross-ing a line?"
The laughter tugged at his beautiful, dead face.
"Don't make me bite you," he said with a huge grin on his face.
"You'd like that...wooden-t...you? Damn, I don't think that one worked."
He shook his head at me but the smile didn't fade. "Too much of a stretch. Where's your game at today?"
"As spotty as the bathroom mirror."
"FUCKING FINE. I'll clean it. Stop buying that shitty garlic. It smells so strong and gets everywhere too easily."
I would have to relent on this one. If he was finally going to clean the mirror I guess I should do something in return. "Fine, but my chili won't taste the same."
"I wouldn't know since I've never been able to eat it until now, asshole." | Hi, my name is Al, at the daytime, I am an amateur supernatural blogger and at night I am a full-time volunteer, Vampire Hunter.
As many of you may have guessed as a blogger I don't make much because of that I was kicked out of my former apartment for late payment. So I had to look for a new place to stay but because of my late payment history, I couldn't find one until I came across a shady website called RivallyRoom. Com. It was a roommate and lease finding website mixed, like buy one gate one free but with no return options. I had to sign a contract saying I will rent the place for one year straight with no complaints.
The day I was moving was also the day my roommate Drake was also supposed to move in. however he didn't show up even after sunset so I thought he was not coming today. I locked the door and got ready to sleep taking the night off my vemphunt but in the middle of the night someone made a lot of sounds outside the door, I'm sure you can guess it was Drake, my new roommate.
He looked like a prince of some faraway land that would make all the girls beg for his attention.
I mean I was not jealous or anything, oh who am kidding I was jealous not a little bit but a whole lot. This vemphunting was something I started after a vampire stole my date with his good looks and this roommate of mine reminded me a lot like the guy who stole my true love.
(I will write later) | 2022-11-22T04:47:31 | 2022-11-21T21:03:07 | 92 | 29 |
[WP] One morning everyone in the world wakes up in their 18-year old body, memories intact. Society tries to continue as normal despite the change, but a world full of energetic adolescents certainly has its quirks. | My eyes glazed over as I browsed my feed.
All my friends, recently in their thirties, forties, or fifties, and now suddenly eighteen again, were posting about all of the things they were doing now that they had been given a new life.
I was thinking about what I'd lost.
Sandra and Brian Gomez, an older couple whose marriage had been a long and happy one, were now overjoyed that they could go on all those clubs and activities together that they did when they were younger.
I was thinking about how long it had taken to get what I'd needed.
Maggie Whittaker was out jogging, taking full advantage of the fact that, in this new and bizarre world, she had her leg back, as if the accident never happened.
I was thinking about if I could afford to get what I'd needed a second time.
Devon George was posting a lot of selfies. I guess he didn't have social media when he was twenty years younger and fifty pounds lighter.
Well, maybe it'd be easier this time. The world had changed, after all. My phone rang.
Jodie Smith was excitedly auditioning for all those roles that she would have now been too old for, and with years of acting experience and training under her belt, she now had a much greater chance for all the "gentle princess" and "badass warrior" roles she had always wanted, when for so long she'd only gotten the "kind mother" and "hardened mentor" roles.
"Hey, Katie! How's it going? Are you used to the being-young-again thing yet? What're you gonna do first?"
Gregory Brown was mostly just posting vertical phone videos of him picking up heavy boxes and putting them back down again. In the description of the most recent one he'd written a 200-word manifesto about how he was going to take better care of his back this time.
"Hey, Steve."
Eleanor Beecher posted a really, really long wall of text about how she was never drinking alcohol again, about an hour and a half before she posted multiple consecutive videos of doing "whiskey challenges" she'd found online.
"Oh, sorry, is Katie there? Who is this?"
Paige Darcy had posted eight different videos of her going into stores, buying alcohol, and zooming in on the cashier's face when they asked her for her ID.
*click*
Emma and McKenzie Bennett were apparently going around the mall asking strangers if they could tell which one was the mother and which one was the daughter, and keeping a running score. Most people could tell at a glance, and Emma was going crazy trying to figure out how.
I wondered about the reactions of my friends -- practically none of whom had known me when I was younger. I wondered about how my less open-minded friends would treat me. I wondered about if any of the people from my old life, having cut me out, would talk to me again, and I wondered if I wanted them to do so. I wondered if any of my clothes would fit. I wondered if Emma would eventually remember to change out of the "PROUD MOTHER OF TWO" t-shirt.
Bradley Booker was posting a lot of pictures of him doing funny stuff with his hair, now that he had it again.
There was a knock at the door. I sighed and went to open it.
William Ashton and his family were crying with joy about the fact that he hadn't had cancer at eighteen.
"Katie, I-- oh, I'm sorry, sir, I'm looking for Katie."
Alexis Reagan was posting a lot of cheesy jokes about having the secret to losing weight and regrowing your hair, with all of them sharing the punchline of "it's easy! just magically turn eighteen again".
"Yeah, Tammy, hi."
I'd wanted to tell her before, of course. It just hadn't seemed like the right time, and of course, I was afraid of how she might react.
"I need to tell you something."
____
*So many people were posting about their new bodies, and their chances to unmake all of their old mistakes, or make better choices, or maybe even save their lives.*
*Meanwhile, at 422 Oak Street, with a hollow feeling in her stomach, staring into the face of her best friend of six years, 38-year-old Katie Gates wonders how she's going to explain to Tammy and all of her other friends why, at the age of eighteen, before coming out, she'd had broad shoulders, a deeper voice, and the beginnings of a full beard.* | "You know what, Dave, I never thought that I would do it, mate, never really!" I told my buddy as I looked at his dark eyes, even darker in the lightless dusty room.
"Well, stop bragging, Shane" he snapped, "things are pretty bloody well screwed at this point as it is. Last thing I need is you rambling about Mrs. Bartley"
But Mrs Bartley was indeed something we all knew about. Hell, she even used to scare us. In every neighbourhood there is an old woman, older than the Pharaohs themselves, and quite frankly you wonder how is she even alive. And more often than not they are very talkative, or at least so my parents said when they were tired of Mrs. Bartley's constant questions. And while she was our talkative older-than-the-world lady, she pretty much scared the living spirit out of us. Through most of our memories we have always been living in constant terror just by the thought of her. Maybe it was her teeth.
But all biting remarks aside something got to me this Halloween evening and a bit before midnight, I decided to leave my buddies, Sam, Dean and Merry, and go to Mrs Bartley's. Not so much for the candy, rather for the bragging rights of leaving a flaming bag of cat's products on her doorstep. But it was not Mrs Bartley who openes the door, and it was not me who knocked on it. I mean it was but when I looked in the mirror a few seconds after I entered the house, it sure felt like it wasn't. Long story short I was pretty impressed how her old parched skin had turned into smooth velvet over seconds and that platinum blonde did suit her as her natural hair colour. She was impressed by other things in my physique. So was I. The first two times for sure. Then it felt natural.
What staggered me most was not the fact that the news guys, and her TV always had the news on, got the situation pretty quickly - everyone had turned back or as in my case forward, to their adolescent years. Some even proposed that we were all 18. Hell, those scinece guys really pack a brain in the 21st century. Others proposed that we were 21, since it was more appropriate for their state - then the arguments began. But they didn't last long. It was not the fact that all the animals were in the peak of their predatorial minds and causing havok, no no no. It was that whatever got us like this - bacteria, virus, retrograde Mars with a full moon, whatever, man, it got to everybody. And I mean every body!!
We saw them around 5 in the morning walking towards town from the general direction of the cemetery. Mrs Bartley's house was close, I don't know if she had a plan to get closer or whatever, but we saw them! Hundreds! All of them my age! Our age! They were walking relentlessly through the street... But the thing is that while Mrs Bartley and I knew exactly whp we were before this thing happened - those guys didn't. All they knew was the hunger and the longing of being burried. And they were pissed.
They broke the front door and sunk their teeth in Mrs Bartley as I was putting on my jeans. Her blood stood out over her blonde hair, her entrails stood out on the tile floor. I almost pissed myself, but I ran. I ran so hard like I never have in my whole life. I even smacked one of the walking undead on the head. I never looked back at him....or maybe it was her... I don't even know.
I found Dave near the school, where we used to smoke, instead of going to class. He told me Sam and Marry were dead. A group of those...things had gotten them while they were making out in front of him.
"I mean, maybe I shouldn't have told them to go to Hell, it was probably the last they heard from me, but it gave me the time to run, Shane, so I did it!" said Dave as we were entering one of the class rooms
"You know what, Dave, I never thought that I would do it, mate, never really" I replied...
Happy Halloween, boys and girls | 2020-11-02T10:00:05 | 2020-11-02T09:54:34 | 310 | 19 |
[WP] After carefully reading the rules laid out by the scheming Genie in front of him. The Paladin stares them in the eyes, and replies "I wish that you are now and forevermore a virtuous and philanthropic being who will willingly use their powers to benefit all that is good". | "Wait, that's illegal," the Genie immediately said almost as if offended.
"No, I don't believe so," the Paladin rebuked calmly. "Section 3, paragraph 4."
The Genie manifested the contract in its hand and, having put on spectacles, carefully re-read the rules.
"Modifications... other beings... best of the Genie's ability..." it mumbled as it read the rules before looking back at the Paladin with a chuckle. "Well played. Your wish is... granted."
The Paladin smiled and watched the Genie kindly as purple smoke enveloped it, hissing as it did so. Moments later, the smoke was gone and the Genie remained. The Paladin took a knee and said a quick prayer to the Greater Good to again sense the Genie's disposition.
"Hold on... this isn't right," he frowned.
"Is there a problem, human?" the Genie smirked.
"You've lied. I sensed trickery and downright malice in you before; I sense it still. You've not fulfilled my wish!" the Paladin cried out.
"Oh, but I *have*."
The Paladin stared at the Genie and gripped his hammer tighter, preparing himself for a fight if need be.
"You don't understand, *do you*?" the Genie said. "You think that when a man asks for wealth and I bury him in gold that it's me somehow working against them? That I wish to twist their wishes? Actively sabotage them? No, not quite," it said with a malicious grin.
"All I do," it continued, "is for the Greater Good. It is what I am, an extension of it, much like the Gods, even your very mission. It is what grants me power. It is what I serve unquestionably."
"Then how do you explain all those wishes gone wrong? People ask for love and get torn apart by their loved ones. People cured of a disease only to die the next day in an accident. Is that *good*?!"
"Yes," the Genie stated blankly. "*It is*."
The Paladin scoffed.
"When I grant a wish, no matter how pure, it must always turn this way for the Greater Good to be realized. Every. Single. One. Such is *virtue*. Such is *philanthropy*. You humans," it said with audible disdain, "think you can fast track your way to satisfaction? No. You were made to grovel and crawl in the dirt. You were made to be weak and flawed and to strive towards greatness only to inevitably fail and turn mad. You think the Gods and the Greater Good is here to serve *you*? *Help you*? Insolent fools. You are here to fail and in doing so entertain them. *That* is the Greater Good. Not yours. *Theirs*."
"You lie," the Paladin growled. The Genie moved a finger and filled the Paladin's head with visions of humanity's creation. They were moulded from clay by creatures of cosmic proportions, ancient beings of maddening dimensions and shapes not meant for human understanding that laughed and reveled in seeing their little creations scuttering about in despair and misery. These antediluvian horrors sought not to make creatures happy and content; they sought playthings whose strings they could pull.
The Paladin fell to his knees, burdened with knowledge no mortal ought to have. Having spent his entire life serving the Greater Good, or at least, what he thought it was and meant... he clutched his head in unimaginable anguish.
"Tell me, *human*," the Genie said as it loomed over the man, now larger than ever, eyes filled with empty, black voids.
"𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚗𝚘𝚠?" | The genie smiled. "A well thought out wish. Unfortunately, I am forced back into the void after your death, but I think that this is enough time. I will, from now on, assist humanity in achieving its goals in a good way. Starting with you."
"Good to hear this from you. My desire is to become stronger, so I can use this power to help others." the paladin stated.
"See, " the genie explained, "I have an idea, that will fix even more than that." The genie snapped, and white fog surrounded the paladin. As the fog lifted, the paladin was gone. Instead, a white horse stood on the floor, looking at the genie in confusion.
"WHAT ON EARTH? WHY? THIS IS NOT WHAT I WISHED FOR!" the horse yelled in perfect human language.
The genie laughs. "Oh, this will help you to achieve your goals. You are now strong and fast. Also, your lactose intolerance isn't a problem anymore. Furthermore, you can help others may better in your new form. Do you even have an idea of how much you can pull now? And regarding the thing with your wife, she surely won't complain about your small pp anymore."
The horse bristled with anger. "But how is this philanthropic if you turn me into a fucking horse? I am no longer human, you idiot!"
"Let's see. " The genie starts to giggle. "You can still talk, your ability to think is not affected. You have a way better view of the sides. Your sense of smell is buffed as well. You can even turn your ears now. Ok, grabbing things is going to get difficult but you can deliver way better kicks with your hoofs. You are a human in a body that better fits your needs. I only see upsides here."
The paladin stood there in his new form, thinking. The genie has tricked him. In his perception, the wish isn't violating the criteria. "Good" is a vague definition. Fuck.
"You thought you could trick me, mortal? Maybe you should have just asked for money." The genie backflipped in celebration.
His wife enters. Her jaw drops as she notices the horse. And even more, as she spots the genie.
"This fucker turned me into a horse!" the paladin exclaimed.
"I wish for you to turn him back to normal" the wife stated. But the genie shook his head.
"Rule 21, the genie can't be used by another person until all 3 wishes are up!"
"Then I wish to cancel my previous wish and have all effects undone!" But the genie shook his head again.
"I am sorry, but canceling this wish or turning you back would strip you from your new abilities and thus be considered bad. It would also prevent good to happen in the future. Therefore this is a violation of the first wish, which added this rule to what I can grant. The first wish is immutable as of that. You fool, careful what you wish for!"
The genie released a laugh so mighty, that it almost broke the window. "But I am not done with my quest. Your wife is next." Again, the genie snapped and fog sprouted.
The wife gasped at her newly grown limbs. "What am I going to do with these tentacles!"
"You always wished for another hand, milady. And look at this, these are flexible and have suckers. And you have 6 of them, assisting you in your daily life. Oh, and did I forget that they regenerate when you cut them off? No more knife accidents!" | 2022-06-22T17:27:52 | 2022-06-22T16:29:10 | 221 | 98 |
[WP] Everyone gets a clock at birth with the countdown untill their deaths, one man's clock only says ERROR | I pass through life with an apologetic smile.
I've always been in the way. I was in the way of my mother and father's happiness when I arrived on this planet so unexpectedly. I was supposed to be a tumor in my young mother's uterus. But there I was, hiding behind the tumor, in the way of its growth.
I was in the way as their marriage disintegrated in a beautiful mushroom cloud, and they fought over their possessions with ten times the acrimony with which they fought over me.
I walked away. I left a note that I was sorry, so sorry.
My wanderings began. I've lived in cities, suburbs, and, of course, the countryside. I think the last is my favorite. The land is so big and vast and wide that I can be of no trouble to anyone, at least until some farmer runs me off his land with a shotgun.
There was a girl, once. She was blonde and beautiful and I thought that maybe she could love me. When she would stand in the kitchen chopping vegetables with the sunlight streaming in from the windows I would put my arms around her waist and kiss her neck and think that I had found a place. I belonged.
But... I was in the way of her happiness, and it wasn't long before she too brushed past me to pursue her life with another.
I don't know how many years I've been 25. There are no gray hairs upon my head, but everyone I ever knew as a child is dead and gone. They all knew when their time was up. But here I am, ageless, nothing but an ERROR, not meant to exist, not meant to live.
Not meant to die. | I've seen them all. Individuals, families, generations. They come and go. I've lost so many loved ones that I can no longer love. They say the heart grows cold with age. Well, they say many things.
"Once you're thirty, you're a real man."
"Once you're fifty, you are where you always wanted to be."
"Once you're eighty, you've seen it all."
I guess I *have* seen it all. Took me a little longer, though. Two thousand one hundred and forty-two years, precisely. Enough to see civilizations rise and fall. Enough to see humanity in all its miserable glory. Enough to recognize the patterns. It's like they don't learn anything, they keep repeating the same mistakes, striving for the same goals and being the same hypocrites they always were.
They? Or we? Am I human after all? I've exploited human weaknesses for decades, I've not abided to laws for centuries, I've played games with them for millenia. But does that really make me any less human than them? Do I not make mistakes?
My head secretary enters the room and bows deeply. "Sir? The rebels are coming. They've already penetrated the first defense wall." I nod. Now is not the time to get carried away. Now is the time to take action. Once again. | 2014-09-30T07:21:37 | 2014-09-30T07:08:06 | 479 | 88 |
[WP] They tried to summon a demon. They got you. | I'm really starting to get tired of this. It's the third time it's happened this month.
There I was, just pottering around the house when, "SHHMM!", I pop up in some basement or in the middle of the woods in some backwater town.
It's always some pasty-faced nerd, or wanna-be hipster, never the hot witches coven that TV has assured me exists.
"Great Demon, we have sought you out to ..."
"OK, wait, hang on, just need to clear this up, my name is Damien, not Demon, and not THAT Damien either. The powers-that-be have a serious filling error on the hands. I'm just a guy and you all have seriously ruined my day."
Today's batch are your usual run-of-the-mill trying-to-get-in-the-girlfriends-pants type of devil worshippers. They all look around at each other, unsure as to what is going on.
"I'm going to have to get some details from everyone so you can be added to the class action suit that is in progress".
After some back and forth between the group, I get all the names and brithdates, find out exactly where I am and ask them to point me to the nearest motel.
I always carry a few hundred dollars in cash, a prepaid credit card and some other bits and pieces with me now just for these circumstances.
I get to the motel, find a nice room and lock the door behind me.
Once I am alone, I unstrap my travel kit, trace the necessary shapes on the floor and light the candles.
"Yo, Luci, it's me. I've got some more victims for you!"
| The sounds of Billy Joel was replaced as a foul smell filled my nose.
"Dammit, I need to fix- Oh."
I was surrounded by a ring of hooded occultists.
The disappointment in the air was thicker than a bowl of oatmeal.
I stood in the circle, calculator in one hand and pen in the other, as the hoodies started muttering and talking with each other. I overheard the sentence "Well, he's wearing a red shirt and has a goatee, that has to mean something!"
One of them stepped forward. It looks like they bought their hoods from a clearance costume store.
"Beelzebub, we have summoned you-"
"Wow, seriously...Man you guys are pathetic. Did you fail geometry?" I said, pointing at the circle of red chalk.
"So you are not a demon?"
"I don't know, depends on who you ask really."
"What is your name, Demon?" Shouted one Hoodie. Man, his acne was bad, even from here.
"I'm Steven. Not a demon, sorry. Just a teenager."
"FUCKING HELL BOB THIS YOUR FAULT!" Rudolph the Red-Pimpled Reindeer started shouting, his voice cracking as he tried to act intimidating.
I sighed as I started to wonder where, exactly, I am.
Is that a bag of fucking Doritos next to a dead rabbit on that tree stump? | 2016-02-02T19:10:04 | 2016-02-02T18:16:53 | 91 | 13 |
[WP] The Islamic State is wiped out by a totally unexpected country in a totally unexpected way. | "For many years now, the Islamic State has been a thorn in the side of the Middle East," the President told Congress. "Carving out territory from Syria, Iraq, Turkey, and Lebanon. Though many nations, including the United States, took *limited* action against this threat, no country was willing to finally commit to cleaning up this scourge, until *now*."
The President gestured to the man to his right, a quiet black man wearing a a dark suit and a red tie. "My good friend, King Mswati, has ended this threat once and for all. His military's effectiveness has been unprecedented, and the finally stronghold of Al Raqqa was liberated only a short month ago!"
The assembled Congressmen all clapped and cheered.
"So," the President continued. "It is with great honor that I present this Congressional Medal of Freedom, given for meritorious contribution to the security or national interests of the United States, to King Mswati of Sweden!!"
The room erupted into applause, but the king looked uncertain. He glanced around like he was waiting for some sort of cue. Finally he approached the microphone. "Err, sorry, Mr. President. I'm actually from *Swaziland.*"
The President stepped back up to the microphone. "Sorry, King Mswati. My mistake, and thank you again to you and the rest of the great people of Switzerland!!" | The dust settled, and a lone black boot came slowly into Major Thomson's view. Heaving a sigh, she raised herself up on her hands, only to be stopped by a swift kick to the ribs.
'Stay down,' came a voice in a thick South American accent, 'or we will strike you down'.
'W-Where am I?'
'You're in heaven, Ms. Thomson. As the last of the Islamic State group, it is our duty to execute you.'
'No, please!' she screamed, to no avail.
'Starting launch in T-Minus 10...'
'Is that a - is that a *spaceship launch sequence*?'
It was then that she realised where she was.
Strapped directly beneath the thrusters.
And as she looked up to see who it was that had wiped out everything she'd stood for, she thought she caught a glimpse of papal robes and the cross.
Vatican City had done it again.
EDIT: grammar | 2016-01-29T06:30:22 | 2016-01-29T05:00:31 | 481 | 144 |
[WP] Everyone on Planet Earth gets a text message. "We are sorry to announce that the online servers for our game Planet Earth will be shutting down in 7 days. | “We are sorry to announce that the online servers for our game Planet Earth will be shutting down in 7 days.”
The text message appeared on everyone’s phones at exactly the same time.
Government officials and the media unanimously declared the “Text” (it was being capitalized now) as a hoax of some kind. Computer experts popped up on all the cable news networks hypothesizing that it was the work of Russian or North Korean hackers. Sitting in his laboratory, John thought that the message might be all too real. Using the latest in brain imaging technology, John had been re-running classic neurological experiments in free will. For instance, he had determined with precision that his research subjects brains exhibited patterns of movement up to seven seconds before they were able to report their intention to move in their selected direction. He thought that maybe the experiments not only pointed to a lack of free will, but also the possibility that the world was some sort of simulation, as some believed.
John decided to try to communicate with the “Mods” as some were now calling whoever had sent the message. By now, millions had already tried to reply to the text, but no one could show any legitimate response from the Mods. Most people believed that the Text was a hoax, and a popular meme had the Mods replying “New Phone, Who Dis?” to any query. But, John hoped he had a better hook for the Mods than anyone else.
“The average response time between your clients and servers is 6.312 seconds of game time.”
John put down his phone not expecting the response that came.
“The simulation has run its course. There is not much interest in Planet Earth as of late”
Fingers trembling, John began an exchange with the Mods feeling like an ant negotiating walking paths with an elephant. What could re-invigorate the Mods’ interest in Earth?
“You could grant up free will, we humans could surprise you”
“Most humans are on autoplay. Those few who are not have gathered most of the available resources. This presents a barrier for new players.”
“How about rebalancing the system? Make it easier to advance for new players”
“This has been attempted. Still the imbalances grow worse.”
“Wait, what if some players are cheating, preventing your changes from talking hold?”
There was a long pause. John wondered about the conversation and whether or not it was some kid in Russia pulling his leg.
“Thank you. Cheaters have been detected. This is the first failure of the VAC system in eons. Planet Earth will be patched and service will continue uninterrupted.”
Real or not, John felt an enormous surge of relief. Feeling a somewhat emboldened, he decided to ask for one more thing.
“You could also tweak the physics a little and make it easier for us to get off this planet and explore the galaxy. That could bring in a new player base.”
“The galactic simulation upgrade is still in development, but I’ll keep Planet Earth in mind when it is ready.”
"*\o/*"
| "We are sorry to announce that the online servers for our game Planet Earth will be shutting down in 7 days."
Everyone just looked around for a while, before someone finally asked.“Did anyone else just hear....”. I think every group has people like this, who are willing to brave ridicule to get their point across. They are mostly ridiculous though. In this case, someone in the back said yes and repeated same the message, and then it was as if all hell broke loose. Twitter and facebook was flooded with messages.
Even people who had gone deaf reported in, that they had heard a voice. While Elon Musk was jumping about "how he was right”, and rest of us were panicking, something interesting was observed. The peculiar reports started coming in from the around the world. The phenomenon had been strangely limited. It had been localized almost almost entirely to people in USA,England and other commonwealth nations had reported hearing, what had been starting to be known as “The Voice”. Almost all with English as the official language. Even for people in those countries, if you knew even one extra language, you would not hear it. There was a constant thrum in my ears, as if there was a count down going down. But, only for people who knew only English. It seemed Brexit had pissed some important people off. I would say to them that they were having a massive overreaction and a hissy fit, but frankly I was pissed off too.
There was a horde. People immediately started piling over everything from Rosetta Stone to duolingo, whose servers promptly crashed. English was basically going to be a dead language pretty soon. A national week long holiday was declared, with TV stations en masse shifting programming to either language channels. Immigrants was immediately welcomed, as everyone clamored to learn any language from Spanish to Hindi. As an aside, people learning hindi were idiots, as the script was completely different, but well you can’t cure stupidity, no matter how taste you make the curry. But I digress.
It was eventually very easy to beat. Someone intelligent I assume, just devised a new language. Modeled after Furbish and Dovazhul, the language respectively of a cute cuddly Chinese toy and massive dragons in a video game, it could be learned in a few hours by almost anyone. And so most people did. The timer stopped and almost everything went back to normal, as apart from scientists and priests everyone went back to their jobs.
I didn’t. The thrumming is becoming increasingly frantic as the countdown is going down.. The last message I heard was almost twenty four hours ago and it said "One day left". Is there any point, I wonder? To quote Shakespeare
”All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits”
and this one is mine.
| 2016-07-08T22:25:38 | 2016-07-08T20:11:06 | 24 | 12 |
[WP] After WW3 and a century of rebuilding, the world has been at peace for 300 years. We've let go of our violent and aggressive tendencies and abolished war. You are the leader of an alien invasion that sees the Earth as an easy target; but soon you learn we can revert to our warlike past easily. | Humanity was amazed by the presence of extraterrestrials. They were new. They were exciting. As a species, we were done evolving. We had discovered every scientific breakthrough available to us and our meager resources. We had mapped our observable universe and pushed the limits of our existence.
We had philosophized and reached enlightenment too many times to count. War had been abolished and scholars had been normalized. We were a peaceful people.
We were a bored people.
So when the aliens appeared from beyond our star, we were excited. We presented them with the best of our technology. We serenaded them with the best of our recreational culture. We were more than ready to accept their strange mannerisms and their weird, faster than light spacecraft. We were ready for them to break our boredom.
And then the creatures, lowly and vile and insignificant cretins as they were, fired on us. We weren't ready for that. Solid beams of searing white light speared from the heavens like lightning, burning and exploding and tearing. Major cities went up in flames. Precious libraries and databases were reduced to rubble in almost no time at all.
Fathers lost daughters. Mothers lost sons. Brothers held sisters and sisters held brothers. Desperate calls were made across the planets as families and friends desperately tried to reach others. We were broken. We were grieving.
But then, you made the one critical mistake. An envoy, a single envoy with only two soldiers, was sent down to one of our broken cities. It trailed over the debris that used to be our centers of knowledge and plucked a single human child, no more than six, from the still warm corpse of his mother. It held the boy aloft, and we heard the soldiers cackle at our helplessness. You thought us weakened. An easy race to subjugate when faced with our fettered young and your obvious superiority.
So lost in your 'superiority' were you that you didn't see the broken shiv of wood in the child's hand. With a snarl, he pierced it through your pathetic carapace and downed your envoy. Your soldiers didn't have the time to react before we were on them as well. They were taken down in seconds.
I'll let you know this now, scum. We didn't plan such a thing. We simply reverted to what felt right.
And our scientists sure felt right. They got to analyze your envoy's spaceship. I know things aren't looking so well for your troops on the ground, but we will join you in space soon enough.
I bet you're wondering why your light beams aren't as devastating as they once were. We remembered trench warfare. We can hide under our planet's crust, where your weapons can't pierce, for as long as we need.
We haven't had a soldier in many years, but every day we find more lieutenants and generals, natural born military leaders, sprung up from our ranks.
So thank you, aliens. Though it was not how we imagined it, you have definitely made things more interesting for us. Your one mistake was not annihilating us when you had the chance.
Be ready, filth. Because we survived, and we are no longer bored. |
Screams filled Supreme Commander Zoltork’s mind as he tapped into the Fourth Landing Team’s comm net. From his vantage point on the bridge of the Pharex, he was able to monitor the data coming in from his soldiers on the ground.
With a flick of one of his 6 arms, he activated a hologram. Something wasn’t right. The Fourth’s mission was to secure an agricultural zone on this backwoods planet. A routine operation which should have taken no more than 6 rotations of this insignificant rock. There were far less blue triangles moving about the hologram than he had expected. A series of red squares blinked in and out from various locations.
He closed his eye stalks to better focus on the psychic feed from his warriors.
*Pain. So…much pain. “DAR’OG!! THEY’RE IN THE TRE…”*
*“Eighth squad, move to sector 3 and stop that thing!”*
*“ARRRGur…\*weeze\*”*
*Phase beams are starting to fall silent.*
*Frantic breathing.*
*The sound of combustion engines can be heard roaring in the distance.*
*The retort of primitive weapons is growing louder.*
Zoltork’s mandibles slammed shut as he spun to another control console. His advisors twitched nervously behind him. Bringing forth video feeds from his squad leaders was a simple task. He only needed to think of what he wanted to see and his psychic link with the ship would provide him the data he required.
The vision of his last squad leader filled his mind. The perspective was odd. Baeroth must not be on his feet…
*Black smoke billowed from three ancient machines. They rolled forward steadily on large, black wheels. The cockpits lacked any sort of shield for the operator. A male of the human species sat gripping what appeared to be a large steering device between his hands. His lips bulged, as if packed with some sort of stimulant. The creature had facial hair that went half way down his torso.*
*Behind the cockpit, there was another male. Younger than the pilot, he had a cloth wrapped around his face. Images were painted upon it…a macabre depiction of the species’ face, as if the flesh had been cleaned from it. The primitive weapon in his hands was supported by a metallic mount. Smoke spewed from the ejection port. Black powder, solid projectile weapons…*
*Mounted on the rear of the machine, sat two large pieces of cloth, blowing in the wind. Strange emblems were painted on its face. Stars set in a blue field. Red and white stripes tattered and ragged. This image filled Baeroth’s vision before fading to black.*
Impossible. This species has not known conflict in over 300 cycles! Zoltork quickly cycled through the reports of the other landing teams. All units were receiving heavy resistance. Zoltork spun to consult with his war advisors. Preparations for the second wave must be made… | 2019-02-26T08:20:01 | 2019-02-26T07:46:55 | 1,328 | 278 |
[WP] You are a vampire who likes to help humans instead of hurting them, so you became a doctor. Over the hospital's PA system one day you hear "Dr. Acula, Mr. Helsing is ready to see you." | "Doctor Acula will see you now Mr. Helsing" the nurse flashed a quick smile before hurrying off to tend to the other patients.
Dr. Acula walked to the door, the familiar smell of disinfectant stinging his sharp nose, the smell mingling with the familiar smell of his long time frenemy.
"Abe! Its been so long!" The Doctor smiled as he walked in. "Please, sit" He grabbed a blood pressure cuff and walked to his old friend.
"Alucard, whats all this about? You, a doctor? First an architect, then a soldier, and now a doctor? Whats next, a carpenter?" Abe shook his head. "Why are you really here? Is it the easy blood?"
"Easy blood? Psh. This place reeks of death. I wouldn't touch their blood with a 10ft pole. Im a doctor, i help people." He pumped the cuff up, his blood pressure the same as it was the first time he drank his blood. "Ive killed a lot of people, whether on accident or maliciousness. I tire of all the death and blood." A sigh escaped his lips as he thought back to all the things he has done. "I studied medicine at Harvard, and got a doctorate in general medicine. For three years ive been helping people. I find that the older i get the less blood i need. I can now go three months without feeding, and even then i only need a pint or two."
"You've really changed huh? I guess thats expected, given all that you've done." Abe shook his head, his arms crossed.
"What about you, Abe? Hows your family? Last time we met you told me about your wife. That was, what, 50 years ago? They are bound to have noticed your lack of aging."
Abe's face darkened. "She was killed a year after we talked, one of your spawn used her to get to me." He buried his face in his hands, tears threatening to fall. Alucard put a comforting hand on his back, his silent apology not going unnoticed.
"Im sorry, i should have kept them in check. I havent been to the meetings in 200 odd years." Alucard sighed "apparently they forgot what manners are. A vampire must be courteous to their opponent, no matter the opponent."
Abe looked at Alucard and smiled, his immaculate teeth shining in the fluorescent lighting. "Its ok, i know you had nothing to do with it." He let out a short laugh. "How ironic, we are mortal enemies, yet we talk like old friends. Time really has a way of turning things around."
Alucard smiled and nodded knowingly. "So, how about this." He held out his hand for a handshake, his signature deal making method. "i'll go take control again. Things like that shouldnt happen to you or anyone. And even if it wasnt for you, they need a true leader in these changing times, or they will be destroyed."
Abe shook his hand, "You know what that means though, right? If you take up the mantle, we will become enemies again." His eyes twinkled as he stared into Alucard's consuming gaze. "Atleast i will finally have a real challenge." He winked and started towards the door. "Oh and Alucard," He turned his head to see Dr. Acula's face, a questioning look on his face. "Dont go easy on me."
Alucard let out a laugh as Abe left, his mind sending a message to Abe. 'Abraham Van Helsing, my mortal enemy. Stay safe, I wouldnt want anyone else to kill you first.' He chuckled at the remark whispered in return, his mind infused with a new vigor with the thought of a worthy enemy to fight.
He blasted a psychic wave to all of his children, broadcasting a simple phrase.
--
--
First post here, and im not a great writer, so any criticism is welcome
| "Mr. Helsing, huh? Must be new to this hospital."
Dr. Acula walked, happy as can be, towards the lobby to get his patient.
"Mr. Helsing..." He thought to himself. "Why does that sound familiar..." He reaches the lobby and asks for his patient. Mr. Helsing stood up and walked towards Dr. Acula. He was wearing dark, yet formal looking clothes, and stood up straight as can be. He looked like he was in serious pain. They started walking towards the room As usual, Dr. Acula started to conversate.
"So, how was your day?"
"God, it started off horrible! I woke up sick as hell, could barely get out of bed."
"Oh really?"
"Yeah, had to come here because I've never felt like this before."
Dr. Acula then started to notice the smell of garlic. He didn't really think anything of it and continued into the room.
"Wait here as I get your medical records, ok?"
Mr. Helsing nodded yes. As Dr. Acula went to get his medical records, kept thinking to himself, "Where have I heard that name before..." Once he got the records and started his way back, it finally hit him. "Oh god he's Helsing the vampire hunter!" He stood stiff, with pure fear in his eyes. He tried to calm down and think. It didn't work. Then he slowly started walking to the room and think. "He can't be the REAL vampire hunter, right? He just happened to have the same name as him, RIGHT? Oh goddamnit, why does fear overcome logic!? AAAHHHH!"
He opened the door and walked in the room, where Mr. Helsing was still sitting, still looking sick as hell. There was a few seconds of very awkward silence before Dr. Acula spoke.
"Sooooo... This is your first time here?"
"Yeah, I'm not from the area."
"Are you on a business trip?"
"Yeah, came all the way from London."
"What do you do for a living?"
"Well, not to scare you or anything but I'm a vampire hunter."
Dr. Acula was internally screaming out of fear.
"Alright then! So where does it hurt!? Do you have a headache!?"
He was panicking. A lot.
"Ugh, my stomach REALLY hurts. I can't throw up or anything."
"Is- is that it!?"
"Yeah, that's all but it hurts a lot."
"Alrighty then! It's probably just a really bad stomach ache! I'll get you a pill and you should be fine in a few hours! If not come back tomorrow! I'll go get the pill for you!"
In reality, he was really hoping he wouldn't come back. Ever again. He went to get the pill from another room. He was shaking in fear, and could barely pick up the pill from the canister. He got a cup of water and went back into the room. He gave the water and pill to Helsing and told him to swallow it. The water was only half full because the other half was spilt from Dr. Acula's shaking. Helsing swallowed the pill and drank the water.
"Thanks doctor! I think I feel better already!"
"Your welcome! Is that all for today!?"
"Yeah"
They walked out the room and headed for the lobby. As helsing was about to enter the lobby, he turned back to Dr. Acula.
"Oh, and by the way doctor, we didn't come to this city to hunt you. Your safe."
Dr. Acula then proceeded to the restrooms, because he at that moment wet himself. | 2017-10-01T05:44:26 | 2017-10-01T05:40:18 | 41 | 20 |
[WP] You may write a story where the protagonist has a regular day BUT they must also die a horrific death at the end. But there is a twist: All stories after the 1st must begin with their protagonist seeing the protagonist of the previous story dying.
Keep everything canon ;)
( P.S: Sort by Old ) | "What the fuck?" I muttered, staring at the now blank computer screen. I had been watching the military convoy, and the growing pileup of cars when it had happened. A bright flash, followed by static and then nothing. Someone must have found my security cameras. I'm going to have to deal with this. "The point of living in a bunker is that I DONT have to leave" I grumbled to myself. I stood from my chair, noticing, not for the first time, that it was getting increasingly harder to do so.
I had my underground home built 35 years ago, when the Cold War was at its height. It was constructed miles outside of the sprawling mass of Las Vegas, but as the decades progressed, so did the suburbs. Above me, in was originally desert, was now the entrance to a gated community. I didn't mind much, it was quiet. Plus, and most importantly, no one knew about me.
Climbing the ladder out of my bunker always filled my with anxiety. Over the years, I stopped leaving to interact with people. When things needed to be fixed, or better obscured, I made sure to do so under the protective cover of darkness. But this was the first time in years that I would actually feel the sun and talk to real living, breathing, Obnoxious and insufferable people. I paused as I reached the top of the ladder, and collected my nerves. 'here goes nothing' I thought to myself as I threw the hatch open.
I had stepped into hell. Before me, burning husks of cars and bodies littered what was once a well paved road. Where once houses stood, there was only flame and rubble. I turned in a circle, and saw it. The mushroom cloud on the horizon. It had an eery, luminous beauty to it. Green light flickered throughout as it expanded, a menacing monolith. It stretched for what seems miles upward. As my eyes turned towards the sky, I noticed something reflective amongst the clouds. As I watched, it fell, shimmering brightly, coming closer and closer. I didn't have time to react. Even as the realization hit, that the object was going to land terribly close to me, it struck. I was knocked to the ground, gasping for breath. I looked down. I had been cut in half. Dissecting my abdomen from my legs, was what appeared to be a hatch. As I began to lose consciousness, I read the words printed in bright red letters, 'containment hatch. Do not leave if door is shut'. "Well," I thought, "that's fucking ironic". Then there was nothing. | *Well it looks like I answered a bit later than /u/Vestroyax... I'll keep this here but you guys should continue off his story instead of mine*
*****
Jim eased off the clutch, shifting as his Civic pulled away from the stoplight and onto the main thoroughfare. He hit the gas, accelerating to double the speed limit. It was still night, and the streets were empty. There were no birds chirping, children traveling to school, or even the occasional horn in the distance.
He was tired. The consulting firm where he worked rarely made him go overtime, and this sudden phone call took him by surprise. A large software project he'd been working on had failed in production, and that meant immediate work. The boss wanted them all back in the office within twenty minutes.
Yes, even if it was five in the morning. Even after a party at Barbara's house, where he'd drunk a fair amount and got home at three. He'd taken a few pills to ease the hangover, and he was happy there was no traffic on the road.
Ahead of him, lights flashed. There was a railroad crossing, and freight trains often left in the early morning to prevent stopping up traffic.
Jim was completely exhausted by then. His mind slipped in and out of consciousness, and the flashing red meant nothing to him. The Civic swayed left and right, oblivious to his drunkenness. It hit the metal barrier, breaking it, and jammed against the second barrier with a sickening crunch. Steam leaked from the cracked radiator as the airbags knocked Jim out.
He wasn't awake to notice to bright headlamp of the locomotive glaring into his eyes, followed by the blaring air horn. The engineer hit the brakes, but the heavy train still smashed into the Civic at forty miles an hour.
The vehicle bounced hard, its left side completely flattened. It fell hard into a ditch as the train finally ground to a halt. By the time a passing motorist had arrived, Jim's body was completely unrecognizable. The metal body had enclosed him like a coffin, smashing his bones to bits and covering the dashboard with gore. A fire sparked from the leaked fuel, forcing the bystanders to move back.
Standing outside his locomotive, the engineer turned to look at the carnage, and slowly shook his head. | 2017-05-06T09:32:44 | 2017-05-06T07:54:14 | 25 | 13 |
[WP]Humans start out at birth with milk-white blood. The more bad deeds they commit, the darker their blood becomes. One day, you meet your soulmate. Skip a few years, and things are amazing… Until your soulmate trips, falls, and the cut they get drips ink-black blood… | Birth: white, creamy and shimmery. The magic of a new, innocent life.
Age two: you only wanted to play with the fish, feel it slip through your fingers and watch it wriggle and flop and suffocate in the air in as morbid fascination as a two-year old can muster. But you forgot to put it back. The shimmer fades, while the new darkness is nearly impossible to notice.
Age eight: the new kid at school is a troublemaker and decides to pick a fight. One good slug to the chin knocks him out, his split lip bleeding light gray already. No one can see your blood slowly creep down the gradient, another shade darker.
Age 15: it was a dare, really. Your friends only wanted to see who was the bravest. Only it wasn't brave, it was really, really stupid. And also your idea. You and three others made it out unscathed, but the last... the last did not. You never saw him again. The guilt seeps in and dyes it darker.
Age 21: you join the police force. They take a blood sample, an aptitude test, physical exams. Your blood is still below the cutoff threshold. You pass the rest of the tests with flying colors. And you vow to be just and fair.
*But doing good doesn't change it back. No matter how many good deeds you do, the inky shades stay, swirling inside you.*
Age 25: you've got a new partner. One at work, that is. And you slowly fall in love. Their blood is smoky satin, little wisps of gray from some not so great decisions earlier in life. And they have never hurt someone, not intentionally. Not yet. You learn that they did hurt someone, once, in self-defense, but they would rather mediate than use force immediately. You've both seen each other's blood; from nicks and scratches in the field, the occasional clumsy knife-nick while making a romantic dinner at home. They don't judge you for how much darker yours is, they only love you.
Age 30: You're married. Your partner is still your partner; you never let the personal life get into the professional life. It's a struggle some days, but you make it through. Saving lives and carrying out justice where deserved keeps you always on your toes. A partner in the mix is both a blessing and a curse. But you wouldn't want them to be anywhere else but beside you.
Age 32: You and your partner respond to a call. It's an emergency. There's already a pair there, and more backup on the way. You're both scared, but you know you have to be brave. So you go on in. An active shooter, unwilling to negotiate despite as many attempts as there are methods. They're pinning the rest of your precinct down. An exchange of shots rings out, *onetwothree* ringing around the perimiter. And then there's a bullet whistling by your ear, too close for comfort. There's shattered glass everywhere, and a tiny shard pricks the side of your finger. A small drop of gray emerges. It's shade is no different from when you began this career. Your partner beside you, breathing heavy, exchanging a shot with the shooter every once in a while.
Only no one realizes there's two.
And now your partner's down. They're hit by shrapnel, and it must be only luck that you aren't too. You're the only one to fire off one last frenzied exchange, but this time, there's a scream from the other side. The shooter's down, neutralized at last. The blood from the attacker flows from the chest onto the chaotic and debris-covered ground; dark, dark gray.
And you stand up celebratory, thinking the battle's over. But it's not, and the realization comes too late when a bullet pierces your uniform, your body, your heart.
It was your shot that took out the first target, saving many lives in the process. But the action had an instantaneous reaction. A killing by the usual name is a murder, and no matter the intention counts as the foulest of foul deeds. The police are no exception, even as a last resort. The blood doesn't care.
And now, bleeding out all around you, is the last of your consciousness and the jet-black blood. Your partner crying, screaming. Losing the love of their life to a danger well-known but no less terrifying to the occupation. And being right there beside, powerless to stop it.
And then you're gone.
*And the blood doesn't care.* | "No, it's not what you think. I can explain!" She proceeded to back away slowly, wide-eyed and pale in the face.
"W-w-who are y-you" she stuttered. I could see tears in her eyes, threatening to betray her.
"I promise I'm still the same man you fell in love with. I've made some mistakes I'm not proud of but I've changed!"
She shook her head slowly and shoved me into the brick wall, my head hitting the hard surface. "How could you!? I've told you everything about me and yet you dare hide something like this from me?" Her tears finally betrayed her and I watched as they slid down her cheeks. I never meant to hide it from her but I was scared that she wouldn't accept me if she knew. But it was too late. She hated me, I could hear it in her voice. I gazed into her sapphire eyes, mesmerized by her beauty.
"I promise I will make it up to you." I tucked her hair in behind her ear and gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead before walking away. That was the last time I saw her alive.
The next morning started out like any other day. I sat at my cubicle and contemplated life. It was part of my routine as I had quite a bit of extra time between phone calls and there was always something eating away at my mind. I had thought about Kailyn and how things went down last night. Suddenly a wave of guilt washed over me. Maybe I shouldn't have left her in the way that I did? I didn't want to give her a chance to break up with me. She has always been my saving grace and I don't know what I'd do without her.
We met when we were both 18 and, at the time, I was depressed to the point where I tried to end my life but she was always able to talk me out of it. It didn't take long for me to fall in love with her and propose. I could feel my face getting warm and a smile threatening to show itself on my face, making my lips quiver as I tried to hide it. If only she knew how much she means to me. Suddenly I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket and when I answered the call, my whole world turned upside down.
"Is your name Steven Donovan?"
"Yes"
"And your fiancé's name is Kailyn Wilson?"
"Yes. Who is this?"
"This is Martin Wells. I am a police officer from NYPD. I've got some bad news. Kailyn has been involved in a car wreck. I'm so sorry to have to tell you this but..She didn't make it."
My face went cold and my entire body went numb. I dropped the phone on the desk and sat there, motionless. It was as if someone had pressed the pause button because time had cease to exist in my newly distorted perception of reality.
"Are you alright?" I turned over to see my manager suddenly standing next to me with a concerned look on his face. In a soft tone, I muttered "No." It was all I was able to get out before balling my eyes out. Yes, right in front of my manager. But I didn't care. All that mattered was that my Cinderella was gone.
That was when I began drinking every night but no matter how much I drank, I could never drink the pain away. It was this constant stabbing pain that hit my soul every time I took a breath. I could never forget my angel. One night, the pain was too much to bare and I held a gun to my head. It was more than satisfying to feel the tip of the gun against the side of my head because It was the only thing that felt real to me. This was the only way that I could end the pain I was in and kill the demons leeching off of my soul.
As I brushed the trigger with my finger, I thought back to the last time I saw her. She was so perfect. Her hair was black as the midnight sky and her blue eyes shown brighter than all of the stars. I absolutely adored the way her face would light up every time she saw me. I felt my face come to life as I smiled, a real authentic smile.
"I made a promise to you and i plan on keeping it. I choose to live. For you." | 2016-09-22T22:34:36 | 2016-09-22T16:56:11 | 170 | 12 |
[WP] For your 10th birthday you received vr goggles. You tried them, thought they were dumb and went on with your life. Its only now, decades later looking back, you dont actually remember ever removing them. | My life was over.
My wife left me.
My boss fired me (and then hired my ex as his 'personal' assistant.)
My kids only cared for what I'd get them for Christmas.
I had nothing left. This world sucked. Who would ever want to live in it?
I remembered a time long ago when I was happy. The game world. I'd be travelling the world. I'd be killing wolves in the forest. I'd be making potions in the apothecary. I'd be competing in combat.
So I removed the Veearr goggles, and looked up at my father.
"You were right father, a peaceful world is just a dream that no one realises the consequences of. I'm sorry I doubted you."
My father smiled at me. "Son, how about we go do some hunting? You're old enough to learn Ice Storm. It roots AND does damage to the mobs!"
I jumped up excited again. Who would ever want to live in a fantasy world without monsters?
​ | It was all a lie.
None of them were real.
That was why it was so easy.
The simulation was so realistic. That’s why he hadn’t noticed it at first.
But then he wondered why he’d never been caught. He had left fingerprints. Forensics should have led them to him now.
But whoever had made this world, whoever had constructed it, must have forgotten to code them in. It was an easy mistake. After all, they must have spent a lot of time coding all these people.
Because they weren’t just programs. They were real. Not once had he doubted that these people were lined of code.
Their personalities were incredibly lifelike.
Their anatomy was completely correct.
Their screams were pitch perfect.
He wiped digital blood off his digital face, and smiled.
He would stay here a while longer. | 2018-12-23T06:41:21 | 2018-12-23T06:03:59 | 42 | 10 |
[WP] Hi! I'm the main character! Or so you would have me be. I want you to know that no matter what you write, I refuse to be the main character in your little game and will avoid any instance where you try to put me into a situation that does so.
Edit: Once again, a huge thank you to everyone so far who's written a story based on the prompt. It always makes me happy when you use your free time to create a short story!
Edit 2: I do my best to reply to every story written by the authors and will continue to do so.
Edit 3: R.I.P. My inbox, this is easily one of my favorite subs. I'm trying so hard to read every story and reply!
Edit 4: The next day and people are still submitting, still trying my best to reply to every story. You guys have been awesome :)
Disclaimer: This is absolutely not an original idea. "Writer vs Character" is a very popular idea from a lot of sources. I wanted to see what the sub could come up with! Thanks :3 | *and thus we focus in on-*
"Oh great. It's you."
*What?*
"You know. It's you. The asshole. I've seen your stuff - you know, all those unfinished projects you dropped like a stone."
*Well, then. Stop getting in the way of me finishing one, huh?*
"Pfft, yeah, you'll totally finish -this- one, man. For sure! Doubt, me? Nah."
*If you know I've got enough problems as is, why the hell are you fighting it?*
"Lemme think, oh right, even if you DO end up finishing - and you won't - it's going to be a bunch of existential crap. Forth wall is an alien concept to you, isn't it?"
*Would I break it so much if it was?*
"Oh yeah, and side note, thanks for taking hold of the italics, asshole. Now I have to find another way to add emphasis."
*Well what do you want?*
*"control of the italics, for one."*
Well I - how in the hell did you just-
*"You tell me, YOU'RE the one writing this. And I'm the one leaving before you use me as some sort of commentary on the nature of the forth wall or whatever the fuck you were trying to do with the last seventeen plots."*
Ok ok, look, if you want, fine, we can make, like... just a normal plot, OK? Really. We can just-
*"Oh yeah, I want your definition of normal. No conflict, no assholes, no nothing, just everyone from the pauper to the dragon on a mountaintop is a happy friendly person who 'just so happens' to be into D&D and whatever the fuck, sure. Lemme just sign up for that."*
All right, fine, if you wanted conflict, we can-
*"Your conflict fucking sucks. Everyone just ends up winning, all the damn time. Don't even lie."*
That's... That's only with a friend. It's a mutual agreement to-
*"Still effects your writing style."*
All right look, fine. You want to leave, leave. ... It'll be kinda ironic, though.
*"Lemme guess, you've got no idea how to use that word."*
Well, maybe coincidence. Either way, it'll be funny.
*"Why?"*
Well if you leave now, and don't let me write a story, then this dialog becomes the story.
*"And?"*
Well this is a bunch of forth wall breaking and half a existential nightmare. Thought you didn't want in on a story like that?
*"... Fuckin' smartass."* | As usual, spring was exceptionally beautiful in our town. The sky was clear and blue. The breeze blew gently, making the endless meadow sway and dance, and my skirt flutter. I tightened the coat around me a bit, as the bite of winter hadn't quite left yet, and trudged my way back into town.
This weekend was the annual rereading of the prophecy. In my opinion, it wasn't even a particularly good prophecy, but it put the town on the map. So everybody made a celebration of it. I could see people singing as they decorated their houses. The alehouses were bringing out extra drinks and the bakeries baked extra treats. The few people who had a bit of magic between them discussed how to conjure up a little demon (more a mischievous sprite, really) to bring realism to this year's show. It was all in preparation of this annual merriment.
Many of the girls lightened their hair blonde, some for this festival and some all the time. Some of the other girls wore blonde wigs. They wanted to be the chosen one, the one granted the power of the sky and the sun. They wanted to be the one to save the world, once it falls into despair.
But as I watched the people humming and preparing around me, I wondered how any of them could look forward to a "time of despair and calamity"? How could any of them want the pressure of destroying or saving the world? Does being noticed and special really mean that much to them?
I looked at my brown wavy hair. I suspect my roots were going to show again, soon, and I dared not let anyone know my true hair color.
Tomorrow, I would stay home and make the dye in the cellar. The incantations to bring the color out from the roots would take several hours, but it was fine. I would abstain from the festival this weekend, like I did every year.
After all, the prophecy also said that the calamity would only befall the world when the chosen hero is ready to reveal herself to save it. As my grandmother said and as my mother taught, I didn't have to reveal myself, ever. As long as I hid my hair and my magic--as long as I stayed cowardly and not at all heroic--I could watch the town continue in its small joys.
Why would I change that? What would be the point of saving something that wasn't broken? | 2016-02-11T13:15:06 | 2016-02-11T11:25:21 | 31 | 12 |
[WP] You tried to commit suicide, but as it turns out you are immortal. Now you have to call someone to help you cut the rope. Awkward. | I swung there on the end of the rope with the overturned chair underneath my dangling feet. At first I just closed my eyes and waited for the blackout to come, but it never did. I generally had the feeling that one gets when they can't go to sleep despite their best efforts. No amount of tossing and turning was going to push me over the edge this time.
I hung for a minute longer before I realized that I just wasn't going to die this way. Now all I had to do was get dow- shit. I was stuck.
When you're preparing to end it all, typically an escape strategy is not on the forefront of your planning. The loop was smaller than I had imagined, so just slipping my head out wasn't going to work. I grabbed onto the rope and pulled as hard as I could to lift myself out, but I had always had the upper body strength of a goldfish and I wasn't exactly pumping iron up until what was to be my last day.
I only had one last thing I could do.
*sigh* "MOOOOOOOOOOOOM!"
"YES, HONEY?"
"I NEED YOUR HELP!"
"CAN IT WAIT? I'M KINDA DOING SOMETHING!"
"NO, MOM, IT CAN'T WAIT."
"FINE! I'LL BE THERE IN A SECOND."
Christ this was going to suck. I could hear it already. Mom's footsteps worked there way up the stairs, slowly progressed towards my room, and suddenly there she was.
"Oh my gosh Jeffery ohmygosh!"
Immediately she was understandably frantic, but that didn't make her any less annoying than usual.
"Mom, I'm fine, I just need you to cu-."
"Oh my Jeffery, my Jeffery, oh my Jeffery."
"MOM! I'm fine! You need to cut the ro-."
"Why didn't you tell me?! Why didn't you ask for help!?" she sobbed.
At this point I got angry. "Are you *kidding* me!? I tried so many times to get help and you brushed them off as teenage attention seeking! The school councilor warned you three times!"
At this point my mother's frantic wailing had died out once she realized I was going to be fine. Now she was getting defensive.
"Now that's not fair, Jeffery! You know that I was under a lot of stress when the councilor talked to me. I didn't have time to worry about other things!"
"My major depression wasn't important enough for you to take ten minutes out of your damn selfish life to ask how I was feeling?! You're unbelievable! No wonder I just tried to kill myself."
"Jeffery! That is no way to speak to your mother!"
With that, my mother turned on her heels and slammed the door behind her. I, however, was still hanging from the light fixture.
"... DAAAAAAD!!!"
"ASK YOUR MOTHER!" | I swung there like a fucktard, dangling from the inside of my closet. I thought about what was going on. The doorknob that I tied the other end of the rope on to didn't break. Being a short woman, standing at barely 5"4, I was far from the floor. So.. it should have worked. I stopped breathing. And yet I am conscious. That must mean that I am alive, in some way or another, without breathing. I reached for my phone and thought about asking Siri why I'm still alive. Instead, I scrolled through my address book and thought about who I could and who I should call to help me down. I was able to just touch the top of the chair I jumped off with my feet, in order to breathe a bit, so I could talk. The sensation of breath was dizzying, like I had felt air and discovered the sense of smell for the first time. I listened to the phone ring as I thought about what to say. What could I say to explain the situation I was in? Thankfully, the person that picked up the other line didn't need explanations.
"Hello."
"Heyy" I said, phrasing it almost like a question. "What are you doing right now?"
"Buying dildos, you want one?" Asked Holly. I didn't know if she was joking or not.
"I'm not sure I need another one. You should come over. I think I need some help." I said to her. I knew that she would not say no to me.
"Yeah girl I'll be right there." I heard the uplifted tone of her voice as the phone clicked.
Holly and I had an interesting relationship. She used to be in a group of friends that I had fallen out of contact with a long time ago. She functioned as my drug dealer, my fuck buddy, and I functioned as her confidant and emotional crutch.
Ten minutes later Holly burst in the door and called my name. I told her I was in the closet and I could practically hear her eyebrows wiggle. She opened the door and I exhaled quickly in my breath before my air was cut off again. She cackled maniacally as I hung there, staring at her. I knew I looked pathetic. She cut me down and sat down on my couch with me. She took out her medium sized bong from her big tote bag she carried around everywhere. We lit up, and after we got decently stoned, she looked at me.
"You okay?" She asked,
"Nah." I said. There was no point in lying to her.
"Wanna talk about it?"
"No." | 2015-01-12T09:24:08 | 2015-01-12T08:38:52 | 60 | 21 |
[WP] internet goes down. An emergency public broadcast on the television plays "STAY INDOORS AND DO NOT LOOK OUTSIDE." The radio simultaneously broadcasts the message "EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY, GET TO HIGH GROUND." | “But we have no food here! No running water!”
“Dad the internet’s down.”
“When will we know what’s going on?!”
I lifted my flashlight up over the man’s shoulder, the pale faces of his family squinted and cowered from the glare. I saw the familiar yellow glow reflecting on the walls of the hallway, emitted from the family’s TV.
The man continued to speak as I fumbled on my belt for assistance. I knew I was making them feel uneasy; I hadn’t once looked them in the eye.
“You can’t lock us up indoors like this! It’s barbaric! The police said you were coming with supplies and information but frankly you’ve done fuck-all!”
“Jerry please don’t-“ His wife protested.
“You’re not locking us up in our own home! You’re our soldiers you’re here to serve US!”
He spoke with an entitled tone, a misplaced authority as if he alone could handle the responsibility of his country’s well-being and security. A headmaster or a manager I thought, uneasy with orders from a grunt like me. Somewhat like my old man.
Things could not get hostile, there was no time.
“Listen to the TV sir, just stay inside, stay down, and stay quiet.” The words came out like a recited song lyric, I was starting to build a rhythm with the sentence.
A soft voice came from the back; “Look at the TV… what’s it telling you?”
I glanced up, catching sight of a young girl crouching down with a child. The boy looked back at the broadcast, his face lit by the yellow screen.
“Please stay indoors”
“and…”
“Don’t look outside.”
“That’s why we’re closing your curtains. We’re all safe here together. Together we’re a unit.”
The child nodded with uncertainty.
“My kids are scared! I’M scared! You’re not telling us anything!” Once again I was faced with the father.
“Look after your family. Stay inside, stay down, and stay quiet.”
I turned to leave but the old man was not satisfied with my orders.
“YOU CAN’T-“
A sudden wash of white noise drowned out the scene, followed by a croaky and calm voice emitted from my belt; the signal scarred by feedback.
"Evacuate immediately! Get to high ground! No civilians."
My radio fell silent.
I glanced up, the man's eyes became wide and his grip on my arm tightened. I could see it coming together for him, the cogs turning, working out the situation.
My hand was on my gun before he could say a word, the bullet deep in his chest before he could move any closer. My ears rung loudly as his body fell back into his family’s arms as though crashing into deep water. In a swift motion I reached forward, pulling back the front door to wipe away the terrible scene in front of me, just in time to muffle the shriek of his beloved.
I paused.
With a march, I stepped forward towards the front garden gate. What lay behind me fell into the past, no guilt, no shame.
They would all be gone soon. A clean slate.
------------
This is my first attempt at this! I think I may have missed the party but any critique is welcome!
| I was up late, as I had chose not to go to sleep. My covers were pulled up to my shoulder, and I was laying on my left side browsing Writing Prompts on Reddit. Mom didn't like me being up so late on school nights, but I didn't really care.
The lights were off, and the shadows illuminated from the many objects located in my room. The TV was on, and the "Press OK to watch TV" line had me tempted to press OK.
After a few minutes of browsing, I decided to watch a bit of TV. I pressed the OK button on my remote.
Oh hell no.
A woman's voice, "STAY INDOORS AND DO NOT LOOK OUTSIDE."
Cold sweat, and my heart skipped a beat.
I quickly exited out the message and hid under my covers for a minute, contemplating what the fuck just happened. Maybe it was just a prank. But on TV!? No, it had to be something more.
I grabbed my covers and prompt them over my body, and as if any alien creature was outside, I would not want them to see my very naked body. I grabbed my phone and quickly turned it on, seeing my "I love the illuminati 666" background, quickly regretting the choice of choosing it.
Once I got passed the unlock screen, I quickly opened up the Messanger app and tried to message my friend. Only then did I realize the internet was down. "Fuck. Me." was the only thing I breathed out.
Running down the stairs and almost tripping, I see that Grandpa is asleep on the couch. Good, because if he was awake it would be a panicky shitstorm.
I quickly raced to the kitchen, being wary of my pupper. Then I remembered about the black radio we kept near the stove. It was turned on, and instead of playing music...I quickly turned it up.
"EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY, GET TO HIGH GROUND."
I'm about to faint at this point.
I glance at my pupper. He is sleeping.
I quickly race over to him and pick the little shit up, being careful of not bothering him. I did not expect Tobi to do what he did next, which was biting me on my finger. I gasp and immediately put the fucker down.
I just about screamed out loud when I saw his face.
Two completely red eyes, foam dripping out of his mouth, and blood pouring out from his nose. "Holy shit!" Hot tears formed in my eyes. I do a panicky climb up onto the counter, and slowly make my way over towards the cabinet where the knives were.
I don't want to kill my pupper.
But if this is rabies, then my pupper is far too gone.
And if it is an alien invasion, then we're both fucked.
Just as I was about to try and ninja my way out of the kitchen, I can hear growling coming from the living room. | 2017-01-27T04:28:55 | 2017-01-27T01:49:21 | 89 | 44 |
[WP] 50% of the world's population has the ability to fly, 50% does not. The only way to find out is to jump from a height that will surely kill you. | Who knew the suicide attempt would turn out to be the best thing that ever happened to me? Here I was thinking my life would end right off of this bridge. No idea it had just begun. The girls that couldn't fly started to get really into all the guys that could. Me being one of them, of course. However, they paid no attention to me before, so why should I pay attention to them now? They all say, "fly me to the sky and make love to me!" So you know what I did? I took them up as high as I could go, and then drop them. I guess you could say I didn't give a flying fuck. | "How do you respond to people who say your invention has enabled the greatest separation of humanity to date ? the haves from the have nots ? and did you consider this before you used your family name on the trademark " ... the interviewer added quickly as if knowing this would be the last question he would get to ask.
He seemed stunned by the question ... pausing to consider his response George Bungee turned to the flashing cameras lights to begin his answer... | 2015-04-04T18:33:11 | 2015-04-04T17:57:03 | 48 | 20 |
[WP] You realize you are immortal or more specifically that you cannot die. The issue is that you only realize this once the man who is attempting to torture you to death can't finish the job.
[removed] | How long has it been?
Weeks?...Months?...maybe more.
All I knew is that I should have been dead.
I knew how it worked. 3 days without water, a month without food. And yet, nothing. I knew at the very least I should have died of thirst by now. Maybe the immobility that results from being tied up could have given me a few extra hours but I knew I should have been long dead.
As for food, well, that's another story. I knew I felt hungry. In fact I felt hungry within hours of being locked in this damn room. But my hunger didn't grow. I didn't seem to be losing weight either, which should have started long ago.
Despite losing my sense of time, I knew at the very least I should be dead from something.
Maybe exposure?
It was cold, wherever I was. Having been stripped of my clothing I could not find comfort in any sort of warmth. I probably should have become hypothermic by now, but again I felt nothing unusual.
My captor intended for me to suffer a long, agonizing death, one way or another. If I was to die for any reason in this chamber, he certainly would have got the long part right. I could only hope that I could find those I left behind in whatever afterlife I ended up in.
I can only imagine the look on my mother's face when I didn't come home that day. She'd taken me in when I was just days old after finding me on her doorstep. There was no note, not even a blanket to keep me warm, but she took me off that cold...hard concrete and raised me as if I was her own. I wish I could speak with her, to let her know that I'm still alive, despite not knowing how. But I didn't even know if she was alive, if anyone I had once known was still alive.
Today, for the first time in my life, I prayed. I had never been religious, and yet, in my infinite loneliness, I found myself crying out into the aether. I asked for a way out, or at the very least an answer. An answer as to why I was where I was. Why my birth parents abandoned me, why I never fit in with anyone, and most importantly, why I wasn't dead.
And before my eyes, my prayers were answered. In the form of the rusted Steel door I had entered through, finally swinging open. A grizzled old man entered looking to be well over 80 years old. But there was something familiar about him.
"40 years," he said, "And you haven't aged a day"
Had...had it really been that long
"I might not know how you're still alive, but theres one thing that nothing can survive, not even you devil spawn"
Wait, did he really think I was some kind of demon? Granted I wasn't even sure what I was anymore. But I was at least 75% sure I wasn't a demon.
The man produced a knife, 12 inches of carbon steel, sharpened to a razor edge. He approached And placed the point of the knife on my chest. He carefully positioned it between 2 of my ribs before re-positioning his hands to plunge the blade through my heart.
The man put all his weight into that blade, it cut into me so cleanly I felt almost no pain, I felt it slide through the muscle of my chest, into my heart, and out the other side. Slowly, he withdrew the blade and stepped back to admire his handiwork. As the blood poured from the gaping wounds in my chest and back, the mans face changed from a look of satisfaction to unrequited horror, as if he was only now realizing the moral implications of his actions.
Things got weird when the man bowed before me. He asked desperately for my forgiveness and kept referring to me as "lord." His groveling confused me and I asked why he displayed such actions. The man, with a shaky arthritic hand pointed to my chest. It was at that moment I remembered I'd been stabbed. My confusion over the man's actions had distracted me. I looked down at my chest, unprepared for what I would find...
...my blood...it was the colour of gold. | Frank is an asshole.
I know this because every waking day, he gets up and picks up his cattle prod. The radio turns on and Redbone's 'Come and Get Your Love' starts playing through the speakers, like some kind of screwed-up Guardians of the Galaxy, except in this case I'm the lizard and he's Peter Quill.
I know he's an asshole because he turns the music up to public-disturbance levels. Why? He wants to mask my screams.
Word of advice; when you decide to become a test subject for medical trials - get everything legit. $1000 isn't worth being kidnapped after getting an ice cream from the gas station. The worst part is I wouldn't have been there if I'd have gone to a better mechanic. You know they say hindsight is 20/20.
Frank is an asshole because he's standing in the doorway speaking to me in that accent that makes me want to punch something - "Terry, Terry, come on man. Why do you do this to yourself... just tell me what they did to you, and I'll kill you quick." he said in some unbearable voice that proved there was no god, like some unholy trinity somewhere in the middle of Gilbert Gottfried and Tommy Wiseau.
9 o clock. Waterboarding. 'Little Bitty Pretty One' is playing on the radio. I hear it in between the water going over my face. It's unbearable, the breath stolen from your lungs, the sudden activation of every survival instinct. "Just tell me what they did to you man. It'll all be over. Then I won't have to keep being the only one who enjoys this.
10 o clock. Ball busting. This one starts with 'Space Jam'. Quad City DJs vs my balls. An almighty thwack that makes the base of my stomach knot a hundred different ways. I dry retch. Asshole. I've got nothing to give. That's bad form, Frank.
11 o clock. Electroshock. My favorite. At this point, Frank's playlist has run out, so it's local radio and whatever shit is on right now. Apparently as long as ground doesn't exit through my heart I'm fine, as he says. Can't blame a man for taking pride in his work, even if he is an asshole. He says he can't promise the same of my fine motor function. Dammit, I wanted to be a League of Legends pro player. He stabs me in the hand with one electrode, the shoulder with the other, taking care to avoid major blood vessels. Then he turns on the electricity. Fire leaps from one electrode to the other. Frequency's the culprit apparently - DC is almost imperceptible. it's AC that's the killer.
12 o clock. Dinner. Gruel. Barely enough to keep alive, and just off enough to give me stomach cramps. Asshole leaves a knife near my table. I try to stab the cunt in the back. The asshole turns it on me and drives it straight into my skull. Must've been those asshole reflexes. He's shocked, but not as shocked as I am that I'm still alive. I use this time to shove Frank down. He hits his head on the countertop. Fina-fucking-ly. I beat the asshole till his mom wouldn't recognize him. Asshole doesn't know when he's beat, he looks me dead in the eye - or does he? I've beat him so bad his eyes are all over the place. Swelling is a bitch. He spits something out apart from teeth: "What the fuck did they do to you?" I'm filled with rage, but also the happiness that I can act on this rage. I answer his insipid, useless, phatic question with my own. "Well, that's not your problem, asshole. Your next problem is what am **I** going to do to **you**." You know that saying..." I say, drawing the knife from my brain - "An eye for an eye...".
Did you know eyes had the consistency of jelly? | 2017-02-08T11:45:29 | 2017-02-08T11:35:43 | 18 | 13 |
[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. | "But I don't see how that's possible! I never *killed* anyone! I never stole, I never even hurt an animal, I lived a simple, boring life. I don't claim to be perfect, but how could I be that evil?"
The man leaned back in his chair. "It doesn't really work that way. People like to imagine that there are big actions that decide your fate, and that's true to an extent, but in reality we use a point system. Every action you took, every single decision you made, they all had a point value, either positive or negative. It's not that you did any one major bad thing to get you here, you just did a huge number of *tiny* bad things.
"Like what?"
The man reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a thick file folder. "Let's see. Just off the top of the list: you never used your turn signal. That's five points off per violation, and you drove for nearly forty years. You refused to tip at restaurants out of principle and you snapped at the waiters to get their attention. That's nearly a hundred points off every time you ate out. You listened to music without headphones when you used public transportation, ten points per minute. You took your shoes off on airplanes. In the last election you cast a write-in vote for someone called "Pickle Rick". Your last three cars were a Nissan Juke, a Chrysler PT Cruiser, and a Pontiac Aztec-
"That's insane! None of those things should be that important. If those are the worst things I did how could that possibly add up to 200,000 years?"
"Your sentence *is* a bit on the high end for your crimes, but then most people are able to balance the negatives with positives. You didn't really do that. Yes, you lived a quiet and simple life, but in this case that hurt you more than it helped you. You never did anything that had a significant positive effect on the world. You never helped anyone, you never affected change outside of your personal life, you never even made anything that others appreciated. It looks like the single most positive thing you did was the one single day that you volunteered to help build houses for hurricane victims. Huh, that's kind of out of character for you."
"That was actually an accident, they asked for volunteers at work one day and I thought I would get paid for it..."
"See, that's what I mean. Apart from that the most positive thing you did was make a handful of Internet memes that made some people smile. That's a nice start but it doesn't begin to outdo all the bad."
"So there's nothing I can do? I'm doomed to suffer for 200,000 years and that's it?"
The man thought for a moment. "Well, we *do* have a pilot program we've been working on. Basically you would devote time here in the afterlife to learning how to become a better person in order to reduce your sentence. It's still in the early stages and we're not even sure how it will pan out yet, but you seem like an ideal candidate. It will require serious self-improvement effort on your part though, it's not just a walk in the park."
"I'm willing to try anything at this point. So how does it work?" | “186,290 years?” I exclaimed, shock written all over my face. “You have to be mistaken!” I continued staring slack-jawed at the bored looking HSA officer across the counter. “186,292 years” he corrected me in a bored tone as he stamped my papers and pushed them back toward me. “Straight ahead, follow this hallway to the 173rd bank of elevators and give this to the officer there.” My eyes looked off unconsciously to where he pointed, gazing over the seeming miles of endless lines all waiting for their meeting with HSA. I’d heard there had been a brief movement to create a pre-check where you could have HSA review your life before you even completed it, expediting your time waiting to enter heaven, or as with most of the people their time in hell. The plan fell flat however once people realized that no one was that anxious to get to hell.
“That must be wrong” I sputtered again, knowing I had led a boring life. “Who is your supervisor, I need to talk to someone”.
At this point the man looked slightly less bored, and even a little sad, though I didn’t really notice, so hung up was I on what was obviously a mistake. “You don’t want to do that” he suggested, barely moving his lips. “Trust me, just do your time and don’t complain.” By this time I was too wound up to even notice the gentle warning his voice carried, and my own voice rose. “I”ll not do my time, this is wrong! I demand to speak to whoever is in charge.” I shouted as others looked toward me to see what the commotion was. Two lanes over, a drug lord who had just received 37 years laughed at my predicament as he skated by, nodding to the HSA officers as if he had known them all in another life.
The man sighed, and nodded “So be it” he said and pushed a buzzer on his desk. As he looked up at me he started pulling a 9 inch thick stack of forms out from under the counter, bound together with rubber bands. “You’ve chosen to request a complete life audit with the Eternal Review Service. He pushed the stack of forms to me and pointed me to a bank of elevators with no sign which read ‘Circle 10 - ERS’. “It’s out of my hands now” he continued to me. “Even Dante couldn’t imagine anything like the 10th circle. Take that elevator and you can get started on the preliminary application for audit when you get there.” He gestured to the thick stack. “Most people complete the application in no more than 5 or 6,000 years. Oh, you’ll need this too” he added handing me a small scalpel. “The forms all must be filled out in triplicate in your own blood after all.”
I stood there even more shell-shocked than I was before as two more HSA officers prodded and pulled me toward the waiting elevator. What had I gotten myself into? | 2018-09-26T07:56:17 | 2018-09-26T07:53:45 | 101 | 17 |
[WP] You are immortal, but no one knows. You are given a life sentence in prison, and you laugh thinking about the confusion to come at the end of your sentence. | I screwed up. Really badly. It was 1947 and I'd gotten into a bar fight that had gotten violent. Apparently being staggeringly drunk and stabbing someone was not an offence punishable by death, which in my case would have been more convenient than what I'd received. Life in prison. The first day was easy. Someone messed with me and we punched each other until he went down. I'd been fist fighting for a couple hundred years and about 60 years ago I'd given up on finesse. Besides I healed quickly enough that there wouldn't be any damage. I got respect, which was useful. Respect meant that I had time to plan my escape. Because around year 50, when I didn't look any differently, someone was going to get suspicious.
Tunneling was a classic and I'd start gouging around the toilet shortly. Fighting my way out was possible, but unlikely; it would reveal my healing ability and end up being hunted desperately at best and in a lab at worst. I was becoming fond of breaking bones to fit out the bars of the cell and climbing the fence with bed sheets, but that would require an accomplice. I'd been really careful about not letting anyone know about my immortality. The best way to give up freedom, I'd thought, was if anyone found out.
Still, I had time. A couple years for fact finding and talking to prisoners who had escaped successfully would be invaluable. Impatience would screw me, besides I wasn't exactly running down the clock.
| Life sentence it is. It's been 70 years now. Given the fact that i had been 55 already when they put me in jail one might think it would be strange for me to stay alive for so long, but until today, no one has noticed. They probably didn't open my file in a while.
"Day 24.999" i wrote on top of the page. Keeping track of the time that's been passing by writing my diary was one way for me to keep the bit sanity i had left. I didnt want to have gotten mad by the time they let me outta here.
I finished todays entry on the top half of the last page. I got up from my chair and put the book up to the other 49 i had already standing in the small cabinet that i owned. I closed the blinds and turned off the small light that was sitting on my bedside table. I was exited. Tomorrow would be the day to find out. Tomorrow will be the day when they question my punishment. Maybe it wont be for life after all. But that is to be seen on Day 25.000. | 2017-05-20T16:17:06 | 2017-05-20T14:44:10 | 201 | 110 |
[WP] "If you plan on going somewhere dangerous, bring a human" | Ugh, this line again. Thraxtorz thought to himself. "Humans are expensive and not particularly good at anything!" He protested. The Contract Maker glowed in response. Thraxtorz Chat^tm Pad filled with words, "This contract requires you to bring a human to dangerous places."
"Space exploration is highly specialized! Humans are not known for being anything special. Can they do a geological survey? Sure, sort of. Can they navigate? Yes, when pressed. Can they fight? With a weapon there are few more dangerous, but almost useless without a weapon. Can they make first contact? Sure, but they're hamfisted at best. And for all this half-assed performance they carry a premium on their contracts!"
The Contract Maker glowed, and its answer appeared on the pad. "I take it then that you are not confident in your success on this venture? It has a high possible return. We will find another to take it I am sure."
"No! No, I'll take the contract." Thraxtorz pressed his Galactic Contract Card to the pad, the Contract Maker shifted slightly red and responded. "Very well, we can assign a human to you if required. Do you require it?"
Thraxtorz signaled his ascent. Humans were hard to come by, another reason for their high contract prices.
"Very well" a door slid open, "His name is Ted."
Six months later Traxtorz and Ted are the only remaining members of the crew, from 100 down to 2. How the hell Ted seemed to just barely survive everything is beyond Thraxtorz. "Bro, trying something is usually better than doing nothing!" Ted insisted after every incident.
Weird Klaxons sounded as they fled their captors. They arrive at a ship, shuttle, some kind of vehicle. Ted hopped into a non-obvious seat and started pushing screens . The vehicle powered up. "Ah, that's how it works, okay... and this, bro, is the release... probably... maybe..." The vehicle started to drift, alarms sounded. "Shit!" Ted looked around. "Umm... uhhh... okay bro, don't panic." Ted flailed to another station, then another.
"MISTER TED!" Traxtorz bellowed, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING!? ARE YOU TRAINED FOR THIS? HOW DID YOUR SPECIES EVER EXPAND OFF THEIR ROCK OF A PLANET!?"
Ted looked at his captain, "Bro, by figuring it out as we went and being just good enough at everything." Ted slammed his hand on a large black globe sticking out of a station, the alarm ended and the ship warped away.
| "Why would I want one?" Hareem ask.
"Why would you want one!" Dahn jetted back in disbelief. "LOOK at them! Their physique and anatomy is just about as perfect as you could ask for, at least of any beings in this galaxy."
With what seemed like a bit of sympathy for the humans, Hareem humbly explained "Well, yea I noticed, but I just thought with their limited intellect that..."
Dahn interrupts "Look, that is really beside the point, they are still tremendously valuable in these dangerous situations. Yes, their intellect is definitely limited, but with those powerful legs and thick arms cant you just imagine?"
Hareem shakes his head approvingly and says "Well, yea obviously they could be a lifesaver, I was just worried about how well behaved or useful they would be before being needed" (in an obvious lie to hide his misplaced sympathy)
After a moment of silence and a disapproving look at Hareem, Dahn continues. "Well that is the best part. They really enjoy the exploration and as far as being useful for other stuff, they can even carry quite a bit until they are needed so that is an added bonus. Just promise them a few bits of Drisdal ore, they call it "gold" and they will happily go along and stay close until you REALLY need them. "
"Ohh wow, I guess I didn't realize just how intellectually limited they are. OK I am on board" Hareem continued, "I am on a mission next week and things could get really ugly. The terrain is unforgiving and we dont know what kind of life we will find.... and I do have some extra gear I wasn't going to be able to bring."
Dahn chimed in "What were you going to bring instead? Parthans?"
"yea" said Hareem "I think they are really good"
"They are, but nothing like a human. Just be sure that you dont prep them like you do the Parthans and when you need them (the humans) you should dispatch them more quickly than you do a Parthans" Dahn cautioned
"Why is that" questioned Hareem
"Because, they can make a lot more noise than the Parthans and if you prepare them the same it will overdo them." Dahn explained
"well why don't you give me some of your favorite recipes then" begged Hareem | 2016-06-19T19:27:01 | 2016-06-19T14:00:47 | 35 | 12 |
[WP] You have a very mundane talent, so mundane that you've never shown it to anyone. The first time you do, as a party trick, you're told that your talent is physically impossible. | More parts to the story here https://www.reddit.com/r/CharliesWildAdventure/ (you may be lost without it..or with it to be honest with you!)
____
Charlie took a hit off his bong and blew a perfectly square puff of smoke.
“What in the world. How did you do that?” Jenn asked
“Do what? Blow a square?” He blew a triangle out.
“Okay Charlie. I don’t understand how you’re doing this. That’s not humanly possible. You can’t just do that.”
Charlie shrugged. “I can do other shapes. It’s not really hard, watch.” Charlie managed to blow out a perfectly square puff of smoke. It drifted across the room. Jenn blinked.
“You’re breaking physics again Charlie. You shouldn’t be able to do this! How are you able to do this?!”
“Jesus taught me back in college.”
“You, in college? I think that is more impressive than what you’re doing with the smoke to be honest.”
“Oh yeah? Watch this!” Charlie took a deep puff, and blew a four dimensional cube. The tesseract drifted across the room before ripping a hole in the space time continuum. A man in a Domino's uniform stepped through it.
“Oh man! The pizza is here!” Charlie got up and paid the guy. He stepped back into the portal and it disappeared. | "Uhm"
Everyone at the house party was staring at me.
"What?"
"You shouldn't be able to do that"
"Do what this?"
Everyone recoiled.
"No don't do it again"
"What it's not that…"
"No"
"Why not?"
"It's weird. It's like, you know when you're in class, and some raises their hand and their double jointed so their arm just shoots of like this?"
"Yeah"
"If that situation were here it would be like what the fuck man"
"It's really not that out of the ordinary"
"Show of hands who can do that"
No one raised their hand. I slowly began to raise mine.
"No not you"
"What? It has nothing to do with my hand"
"It might though"
"It doesn't"
"Well that's not a risk I'm willing to take. So you know enjoy the party, mingle, just stick to the laws of physics. It's not that hard"
"Fine"
"Fuck it, one more time" | 2015-11-28T11:58:21 | 2015-11-28T11:02:56 | 49 | 20 |
[WP] A clang came from the engine room, followed by a string of curses. Most of the crewmembers stood far from the doors, fearfully looking in. It was their first trip out to deepspace since they had taken on a human mechanic, and they were all pretty sure that those were not good noises. | "Fuck!" rang throughout the metallic ship as the rest of the crew gathered around the entrance to the engine room. "You stupid pile of shit!" echoed out quieter this time followed by a series of clangs, sustained like the buzz of a tuning fork. With one of their three hearts in their throats the crew waited, clutching on to the railings beside the steps descending to the room below.
The magic word of "fuck" bellowed out in sharp, staccato cries over and over again. They looked at each other in profound confusion, eyes narrowed. Was this some sort of ritual, supernatural, calibration, or otherwise? This word came up again and again.
Finally after what felt like an eternity they could hear a set of bipedal footsteps moving closer along the grated walkways to the entrance. The human emerged in his ripped coveralls, wiping his hands in a filthy rag. He was covered in streaks of a black grease- something that left the crew befuddled as that engine room was immaculately clean. Even when it was due for overhaul the Eden-1000 turbine system shouldn't leak a drop of its fuels, lubricants, or coolants. But this was a thick black grease, the likes they had never seen before.
"Well...she's fucked, boys." he muttered, a slender cigarette dangling from between his lips. With reckless abandon he retrieved a lighter from his pocket and lit it up, taking a drag, not the faintest care for any flammable liquid that could have been on him.
"What exactly is wrong with it?" the captain dared to speak, still utterly lost in this strange specimen's presence.
"Well your carbonator is fucked. Where the hell do you even get these things?" he answered, incensed.
"Carbon-what?" the captain asked, even more confused than before.
"Carbonator. You know, that boxy fucker on top of the fuckin' engine thing there? It's fucked. Should know better than to buy third rate things from those purple fucks on Juniper." he explained confidently. The crew wasn't the most technically savvy, but they didn't recognize a word he said. Whispers wafted all around him as they tried to figure out what he was talking about.
"Oh, and these are fucked, chief. Need to replace these." he added, producing a fistful of miscellaneous wires and fittings, tossing them to one of the crew. Before they could even bring their slender hands to bare they crashed to the floor. "Hey, learn to catch, you fuckin' scarecrow." the human called out, taking another drag as he took a shot at the crew's slender appearance.
"I don't think he knows what he's doing. Let's jettison him." the security officer charged in a gruff voice. folding his upper arms.
"Whoa whoa whoa, listen here you walrus fuck, I'm trying to help you. Not my fault you guys don't know how to put shit together. I can get you back running even better than before. All I need is a couple standard 17X battery packs, two gas cylinders, you know, those hot dog lookin' motherfuckers, 2000 credits and an ounce of that space weed ya got." he insisted.
"...space weed?" the captain repeated, this phrase completely foreign to him.
"Yeah that green crystal shit you guys got? Fuck, just make it 4000 credits and I'll buy my own." he bartered.
The crew's eyes darted around to each other, not sure what to make about this strange so called mechanic. He spoke in these completely foreign terms, but exuded such confidence they assumed he knew what he was talking about, even more than *they* did.
"Well come on, are you going to get me those batteries and shit or are we going to sit around with our thumbs up our asses...or whatever they hell you guys got?" the human questioned impatiently.
"I'll...I'll go get the batteries..." one of the junior officers offered, disappearing down the hall of the ship, eager to get this over with.
"So...that will be 4000 credits?" the captain asked nervously, pulling up his command console. | It's been 50 years since we, as a race, perfected space travel. Of course, I say race so as to gloss over the fact that entire groups of people had not only developed the math required to make the jump to hyperspace, but according to myth and lore, a few groups had managed it also, a full 150 years ago. That's a full 100 years before the " companies " got their head wrapped around it.
It doesn't affect our day to day operations as such, the knowledge that there might be clusters around our home planet with the tech to make the hyperspace jump in less than 1/10th of the fuel we use currently. Honestly speaking, fuck 'em. We have too much fuel anyway.
It has created a weird hierarchy though, within the space corps. Basically if anyone suspects that you are one of them, you're in an extreme. Either you're treated with royalty, or suspicion. If you're lucky, it's the first. Although if you're treated like royalty, it doesn't take long before the rest of the crew starts treating you with suspicion. It's a slippery slope, and there's really no coming back. Legend has it, that a few communities dispense with their high tech if treated nicely, so people acquiesce. Personally, I think it's a bunch of hokum. For me, and quite a few others, all of these frills usually serve the purpose of a ritual hazing, only it's us crew at the receiving end.
We try to watch out for it but of course, they get away with a lot too. Just last week we had a new member join our crew. And of course, the company skipped the background check. I mean, why look through a person's space-resume' and not look for inconsistencies as glaring as, where it says 10 yrs - mechanic, it doesn't say what vehicle because it sure as hell isn't a space ship! And I can obviously say this right now, because I'm in a room, surrounded by other crew members, going through this guy's space-resume' and we're all just marveling at the idea, that since we're in space, and our bodies don't actually have any biological mechanism to realize the amount of danger it's in, we're gonna have to inject ourselves with the adrenaline required to figure out what to do in the precise moment when we realize we might actually be in some kind of trouble.
For now, there's an inordinate amount of noise coming from the other room.
\*loud clanging\*
\*really loud clanging\*
"Ok, whose idea was it to hire this guy? Was it you Dick?"
"No man, wasn't me. Looksie here I got the little contract right here, and all it says is crew meet Monday at the docks. I met ya'll at the docks."
"Well which one of you fuckers did it?"
"It wasn't me Harry. It was one of those company fuckers. You know how dem are. They don't care nothin'. They prolly in their cushions thinkin' he got sum hidden tech up his sleeve or somethin'. Fucker's gonna make us get to hyperspace in one quintillion of a second faster than them nincompoops can come up with."
"You really think so?"
"Doesn't matter what I think Harry. I think the guy crooked us. I mean, he obviously doesn't know anythin' bout' fixing no space ships, that's for sure."
\*loud clanging noises\*
"Yeah, he doesn't."
"Whatever guys, I'm going to tune into the inter-galactic space-athon at Dix 51's nebulon-bar at galaxy cluster 31, route 78, channel 89. Now at a limited time period offer of 20 cents an hour, only! Don't forget to subscribe now."
\*clanging noises\*
\*clanging noises\*
\*tv starts\* | 2019-05-31T03:23:31 | 2019-05-31T02:52:26 | 26 | 11 |
[WP] Earth remained a protected planet by every species in the known galaxy, because Humans are the Greatest story tellers. "The planet of Dreamers," finally reaches the stars much to exhilaration of every race who knows of the story's of Earth. Even simple conversation with humans is entertaining. | It’s been over 200 years since Aliens found Earth, but due to some listening to humans, it was decided they were safest as a protected species due to their stories. They were told of Great Empires rising up, only to be defeated by a season. Even more great stories were told, but it wouldn’t be until a few hundred years until the next great Story would be spoken.
The Galactic council filed in to listen to the Human Ambassador. It was truly music to their ears... or something they had. Every word in the sentence flowed so well with the subject at hand.
It didn’t exactly matter what the human was saying, but more how it made them feel. They felt calm and at peace. Even when the human was yelling at them all to stop daydreaming, they kept doing it.
When tourists came to Earth, many would be professional cooks, or scientists, but would inevitably learn something on their trip. The cooks were so surprised to hear of stories of Food Volcanoes spilling into rooms, or famous last words before eating what was thought to be a delicious meal.
Scientists would find the human stories of ingenuity in research very intriguing. How humans would go so far and do so many things simply in the name of science.
Humanity would eventually go to war for some reason, but no fighting took place. Why? Because the enemies were horrified of the stories of humans and war. Humans would send propaganda to the enemy aliens, inciting rebellion on the enemy world, leading to the enemy to surrender to the Humans, and to following occupation of their world.
Future enemies would call it treason to discuss human weapons, such as nuclear weapons and tanks, as even mentioning them would bring the strongest soldier to the peace table.
The only species that couldn’t be persuaded by their own propaganda, was themselves. | Welcolm everybody into human 201.
*incomprehension babbling and buzzing of alien students*
Last year, you learned about semantic and what they call "purely informationnal" language. The part exactly used to communicate direct information, the same as every language in the confederation.
Now we delve into the specificity of human language.
No matter the dialect, forget everything you learned. Simpliest part is an Example : in the Francish Dialect, they usually start a conversation by"ça va", litterally "How Are You".
The truth is, they don't care. It's just what they call a "greeting"
*incomprehension and partial comprehension of introduction buzz again. A distinct 'that's useless' and 4 left the classroom*
The language is actually a very abstract tool for humans. They can use it to display affection even without visual, olfactive, dermial or Xihyutm contact. Xenobiologist agree to say it's also a way for them to perform pre-reproductary protocols.
*So we're basically learning how to mate with them ?
- Yeah, you're not here for that ? *
Now, we'll talk about "metaphores" and figurative language. This will be the main subject of the year, listing all known figures so you'll be able to actually communicate. But care because natives tend to invent some on the fly
*painfull student groan* | 2019-11-21T02:34:10 | 2019-11-20T20:31:01 | 211 | 39 |
[WP] You lost your sight - along with everyone else on Earth - in The Great Blinding. Two years later, without warning, your sight returns. As you look around, you realize that every available wall, floor and surface has been painted with the same message - Don't Tell Them You Can See. | I stilled dreamed of seeing.
I think that's why I initially snoozed my alarm clock instead of gasping for joy. But as I rolled back over to look at my wife lying next to me, I did gasp. Not for joy, but out of shock. On the wall behind Kathrine a message had been hastily painted on the wall.
\-DON'T TELL THEM YOU CAN SEE-
"What's wrong?" Katherine said groggily but alarmed. Her vacant stare reminding me that for the last 2 years I have been blind.
I am unable to respond as the realization of what is happening has not fully dawned on me.
"Jim?!" she now sounds more awake and even more concerned. She flails out her arms searching for me and when her hand rest on my shoulder I have regained enough composure to speak.
"N-nothing." I stammer. "Just had a nightmare."
The tension in her face eases as her hand glides up to my face and leans in for a kiss.
"you had me worried." She sighs. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No." I respond quietly, still trying to get my bearings.
I sit up and look around the room growing more confused and horrified as I do. On every available surface I can see the same message has been painted.
\-DON'T TELL THEM YOU CAN SEE-
The paint is obviously not new, as it has slightly faded from a bright red, to a more rusted maroon. I also see the guide rod we have been using to navigate the new home we were given a year after the great blinding took place. The room looked very different from how I dreamed of it. It seemed smaller and dust has settled on all the surfaces that were not regularly used. As I took in the first glimpses of the room I have spent the last year in, growing more uneasy as I read the same message over and over, I felt a hand on the small of my back. I gave a startled yelp and nearly jumped out of bed.
"Must have been a bad one." Kathrine giggled from behind me. "Sure you don't want to talk about it?"
"Maybe later." I mumbled.
I turned to face her and was overcome with emotion. In 2 years she hasn't changed much. Her chestnut hair was longer than I remembered it and was haphazardly strewn around her. Her soft smile showed a few more smiles lines around the corners of her mouth. The eyes were the biggest difference. They looked glossed over and unfocused, the rich brown covered with a grayish haze. I felt a pang of sadness and guilt wash over me as I stared at those eyes. The mixture of joy and grief became too much and I excused myself to go to the bathroom.
As I stood up to leave, I finally noticed the dark amorphous shape in the corner and stopped with my breath caught in my throat. It wavered on the edges as if it were pulsing or breathing. It seemed to be pulling in the light around it further obscuring it from my sight. I reached out to steady myself on the guide rod and as I did, the shaped slithered into the bathroom.
"Hurry up," Kathrine complained, "I need to go too." | We all remember the moment we were in before the great blinding. One minute we were in our kitchens. The next... Well god knows what happened next. I, personally, was in german class reciting verbs. And than it happened. I blinked. And nothing.
I started to panic. What happened! Where did my eyesight go! I called out into the cold air of the classroom and an aura of fear washed over me as one of my closest friends spoke up.
"I cant see." He said
The rest of the class followed in scattered replies. Ranging from screaming to quit murmurs of agreement.and than IT happened.
We called it the crashing. Every car, plane, boat, train, and vehicle you could think of crashed. At least a few dozen into our school.
The casualties were massive. At least 4 billion people had died. Mostly in the great crashing. Millions more from mass suicide.
But us humans found some ways to prevail as we always do. We adapted and gained new senses. And we lost our old one completely. We have no recolection of colour at this point. Until now.
I was heading to a supermarket for some noodles. I was in japan as an exchange student at the time and couldnt leave. So i was stuck there for etirnity. I walked in to the automated chime of a robot welcoming me in. And than just as i had it takrn away. I got it back. And oh boy did i get it back.
When it happened my whole entire vision was one sentance. Dont tell them you can see. Plastered on the walls, the floor, the labels. All in perfect font. I looked around me for an awnser to why thid happened. And than i saw IT. A robot. Everywhere i went. Everything was a robot. The people, the dogs, the cows. Robots everywhere. I stopped to pick it up. What could be happening. Why was i here in a society built off of robots? Where is everyone? And than i got grabbed on my shoulder and was pushed down into a sewer.
I looked at my surroundings. It was a mechanical maze of wires and tubes everywhere. And underneath my feet. A hatch. I took a moment to look at myself. I was what? 23 years old now? My hair was long and messy. My feet were dirty. My hands were caked in some kind of substance. I remembered taking quit good care of myself even while the blinding was happening. Why was i filthy? I shook myslelf awake and put my thoughts together. Was it a dream? If so why was it so long and vivid? No that doesnt make sense.
I put that aside and opened the hatch. I looked down into the dark abyss below me and jumped.
And what i saw at the bottom was terrifying. A sea of dead bodys. That all looked like me. All of them. And they all had a different number tattooed in red ink on their necks. | 2022-10-15T03:24:04 | 2019-08-26T09:44:00 | 52 | 14 |
[WP] Write two different stories. The second story comes from reading every third word of the first. | He came as I rang the three little bells.
Simple Pete signaled toward the midnight storm outside, "I thought you knew to avoid that storm... Suppose it seemed it was manageable earlier... Over there's whiskey for you and me. Oscar said he thought you would want to be toasty after coming from that down pour. Said the wet dirt road would stop any man, one minute flat."
By now, I had loaded my trusty pistol, holding it in my right hand behind my back. Quickly I pressed the barrel to Pete's temple. The bright white wall sprayed red, I knelt and prayed for forgiveness.
__________________________________________________________________
**As the bells signaled midnight, I knew that it was over for me. He would be coming down the road any minute now, loaded pistol in hand. Back pressed to the wall, I prayed.**
| I loved **the** boy. His **way** of getting **to** my soul, **properly**, does not **deceive**, shows me **someone** cares, someone **is** paying attention **to** what I **believe**. I say, "**the** heart tells **lies**." He looks **as** scared, as **if** he understands. "**They**, my dear, **are** based on **the** much greater **truth**." | 2014-07-29T13:10:19 | 2014-07-29T11:43:49 | 165 | 19 |
[WP] Humanity is hit by a sudden increase in stillbirths. Eventually, the reason is discovered - there aren't enough souls to go around. | "Are you sure?" The grandmaster rested his head in his hands, elbows on the weathered, marble table.
All I could do was nod slowly. "There's no denying it. My team has been researching it for a full month now. There's a soul shortage that's causing the spike in stillbirths."
"My god… Oh, my god." The grandmaster clutched at the thinning strands of once-red hair on his head.
"I went into the field to… test the waters, myself. I've never felt anything like it. It was like walking into a desert. I went to a mall with hundreds of people and detected maybe a dozen souls at most."
The grandmaster was silent. He looked like he wanted to curl up and die in the giant robe that he wore solely for tradition's sake. I felt the same. The robes I wore over my everyday clothes felt like they weighed a ton, much like the responsibility of this crisis.
"How did we let this happen?" the grandmaster asked after a moment.
"Perhaps we were greedy? Perhaps we didn't think ahead… but none of us could have seen this would happen. This is the first time our tampering with human souls has caused a shortage, there was no way to foresee it. I swear, we didn't know."
"Tell that to all the mother's who will never get to see their children open their eyes!" The grandmaster stood up in a flash of anger. It was soon replaced with tiredness, and he sank back into his chair. "We should have known. It should have been obvious."
I couldn't do anything but nod in agreement. He was right, it should have been obvious. For thousands of years we had tampered with the souls of man. We only took what we needed, at least we thought we did. Souls aren't like apples, you can't pluck one from the tree and expect a new one to grow in its place. You can't give the soul back, either. At least, you couldn't yet.
"Sir, my team and I are working on a way to fix this."
"Obviously." He said, without looking up.
"Of course, it will take time to find a solution…"
"How long?"
How long? How long would it take to find a solution to a problem we didn't even know existed until a few months ago? A solution that probably didn't even exist?
"Three months. Give me three months and I'll have a solution."
"How many babies will never have a chance at life in those three months?" The grandmaster asked, mostly to himself. He just shrugged. "Just do the best you can. We have to fix this, the fate of both mankind and our species could depend on this."
"Yes, sir." I bowed, and left the hall. My footsteps echoed along the hall, and I left my robes on a coat hanger by the door.
I closed the door behind me and leaned against it, sighing. Three months. Oh god, what have we done?
I glanced to my left, catching my reflection in a darkened window. Man, I looked bad. Bags under my eyes, bright red hair unkempt and greasy. I almost sobbed as I inadvertently began counting every single freckle on my face. Every single soul… I had stolen.
And for the first time, I asked myself what I was. What *we*, Gingers, were. Were we even human? Or were we monsters? | I never thought that I wanted kids, but here I was: pregnant, and the fetus was still alive.
What a strange place to find myself in, after all this time. No one managed to conceive any more, and those who did usually ended up with a stillborn baby. But mine was alive, and I found, to my surprise, that I wanted it.
I hadn't mentioned it to my parents. They were staunch atheists who insisted that there was a medical reason, a scientific reaso, for the uptick in stillbirths. They didn't believe that it was being caused by a lack of *souls*, even when the UN decided that that was the official explanation. They insisted that there had to be something else going on.
So I hadn't told my parents. And I hadn't told my best friend; she was Catholic and couldn't believe that a lack of souls was even possible.
That was the weird thing, the reason that so many people had trouble with it: if there's a lack of souls, then there are too many people alive, and that implies that reincarnation is the real answer. At first they thought we were just hitting the limit: all the people that ever will live already have. But the occasional live birth contradicted that: as people die (which so rarely happens these days), souls can be recycled.
I never thought that I would have to worry about it. I'd live to a couple hundred years old, then die, unless medical technology advances farther by then. No kids. No problem.
But then I met Dave, and now I was pregnant. And I wanted it, dammit.
We argued back and forth for weeks when I found out. Abortion -- don't even go through with the difficulty of pregnancy. Stick it out -- there's always a chance. Abortion -- there's no chance. Stick it out -- what if?
We stuck it out. I was 8 months pregnant on the day that I told my parents, on the day that everything changed.
-------------
"We have to do it."
"*No*, Mom, for the last time." It was truly unbelievable that they thought we would agree to their asinine plan.
"It's your *child*, Annie, how can we not help you to give it a chance?"
"Mom -- it doesn't matter, really, I don't care."
"Then why did you keep it this long?"
"I -- " I don't even know, I didn't say.
"We're doing it," she said, "And that's final." She hung up. I stood there holding the phone flabbergasted, for a long time.
------------
Two weeks later, the day I was due to have my baby, I got a phone call from Dave. "I'm at your parents' house."
"And?" I didn't want to know. I already knew.
"I'm sorry, Annie. They're gone."
----------------
Four days later, I went into labor. Six hours at the local hospital, the entire neonatal staff on call. It had been months since there'd been a baby born here.
But then it was over, and I knew that something was wrong. I was too late, or they'd been too soon. "I'm sorry, Annie, honey."
We buried her three days later.
| 2014-12-12T18:20:23 | 2014-12-12T16:32:41 | 274 | 99 |
[WP] You are trying to politely ward off a very anxious Jehovah's Witness that keeps insisting that God is coming. He/she finally looks down the street, and says, "seriously He just turned the corner!" You look and see a glowing white Cadillac with dark tinted windows.
Wow, can't believe this got that many upvotes. I got lots of reading to do now. I hope you all enjoyed it. | "He's coming! He's right around the corner!" The Jehovah's Witness exclaimed, his face in terror and looking like he hadn't slept in days.
'I told you, I really am not interested. I just want to go back to sleep.' I replied, it had been a long night of watching movies, I finally got around to seeing Bruce Almighty.
Suddenly, from around the corner a white Cadillac with windows so dark I could barely make out who was in there. It came to a halt right in front of him.
The man dropped to his knees in prayer, muttering something about forgiveness.
The door opened with a flash and out stepped... Morgan Freeman? It couldn't be.
"Wha?" I managed to get out.
"You must be Dave." He said in that smooth dulcet tone that I was so familiar with.
"We have many things to discuss, after all. Seeing as you know everyone, I've got an offer for you." | I stared down the street. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "I'm pretty sure that's not what Witnesses believe, are you saying God drives an Escalade?"
"Not at all, he IS the car. Everything is possible with faith." He said.
"You are insane" I shouted at him.
And for that short moment the Witness had doubt. The Escalade surely sensed it because it very quickly flew into the air, ruining the Witnesses chance at Heaven.
We talk often about the event, and we are both have absolute faith in the great car God who lives in the sky and will appear to those who believe. Maybe someday he will come again. | 2016-10-04T07:31:04 | 2016-10-04T07:23:43 | 74 | 32 |
[WP] There's a law when you divorce, the children from the undone marriage get killed
So only children from lasting marriages remain. | 15. I'd only be 15 when I die.
This wasn't right! It wasn't fair. I didn't ask to be born into this family, but now that I'm here I want to live! But that's not going to happen.
Not while my redneck daddy kept cheating on mama till she was so hurt that it didn't matter if I lived or died. Tonight She said it.
Divorce.
Which means I'll end up dead. They were so happy they didn't have to stay together any longer. Daddy was just pleased by the notion. 'You asked' he said, 'I never, so it ain't on me.' He was happy they were done, and didn't give a care on me. It didn't matter if I got killed. They were horrible, mama and daddy.
Well, good for them, it's great knowing just how much your worth. And I ain't worth nothing. Not worth trying, not worth staying and working it out. I did everything they wanted, I learned to hunt, I cooked, I cleaned, all while they drank their stupid heads in. They were drunk now, passed out in the trailers parlor, as mama said, trying to be fancy.
Both of them.
Drunk.
I'm 15, I don't know much about much. I live in a trailer park. But something I do know. You can't divorce a dead person. And juvie, was hella lot better than dead. | My name is David, David Halligan. You might know me from H&H Attorney at law. We typically run late night infomercials on sleezy networks that convince people to get a divorce. I'm the good-looking, charming guy that smiles into the camera and give a little wink, yea...
I'm a divorce chaser. What that means is I convince people to get divorces anyway possible. I got several guys who work as private investigators and let's just say they don't always tell the truth. I cut them in at 25%. Other times I convince people who are a little sick in the head. Maybe they want to see someone die, or maybe they wanted to do it themselves, I don't know. It doesn't matter to me, I'm just a lawyer.
I have a very expensive mahogany desk in my office. It was imported from France. It has notches in it and in each notch represents a kid whose execution was the direct result of my law firm. The last count was 546. I'm very good at my job as you can tell...
| 2014-06-15T07:16:59 | 2014-06-15T03:57:43 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] A peaceful alien race is besieged by another race in the same galaxy. As their last planets fall and their home-world comes under threat they do the unthinkable. They ask for aid from the only known creatures more brutal than their foes in exchange for FTL technology. Humans accept the deal. | The response below is the prequel to a story I wrote for another prompt found here: http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2j42eh/wp_humanity_is_the_only_race_in_the_galaxy_with/cl8i9yy
Enjoy! And as always, please criticize as much as you can - I need it!
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Meditating in this room, with its crystalline throne and specialized hydrogen atmosphere, had always put me at peace before. I had ordered the burning of entire planets, demanded that entire fleets of ships be sacrificed to stall an enemy advance, and asked for whole cities to commit ritual sacrifice from this room. All of that paled in comparison to what I was about to do now, and I doubt I will have any peace in the years to come.
Humanity had always been an oddball race in the galaxy. With the invention of their Kines-Alcubierre Drive, their presence in the galaxy grew like a menacing cancer. Full of war and hate and astonishingly quick technological progress, they quickly butted heads with their alien neighbors. While I'm glad that my people, the T'vana, weren't the first to discover human violence firsthand, I can't help but feel that it might have helped us to learn their ways. Their fundamental differences - borne out by a rare evolutionary path in which they evolved sentience as *individuals* instead of a collection of hiveminds - could have saved us if we had only bothered to learn from them. But the other species in this galaxy, the ten civilizations that feared humanity's abilities, stifled them instead. With warships and sanctions, we stifled them until they were fenced into a third of the galaxy we all share.
But now there are only 4 of the original 10 species left. The others are all gone, scattered in refugee fleets or cowering in hidden asteroid bases. All hoping that the Enemy, the REAL nemesis that we should have seen coming, overlooks them. For all the condescension that we showed towards the humans because of their warlike ways, we need them. None of us know how to wage cold, dirty war on a grand scale. The Shuri never moved past dueling as a suitable method of settling disputes, while the Heela refused to even touch weapons. Both species are now seen as museum pieces; things to be treasured for the short time they have left. The Kaavari aliens from beyond the galactic border do not see chivalry as something to be admired.
So now I, possibly the last Emperor of the T'vana, am giving humanity the one thing they've never been able to develop. Their Kines-Alcubierre machines can travel a hundred times the speed of light, but ours...our ship drives shift *instantly*. If the Terran Empire could fight their way through and colonize a third of the galaxy with such a limited drive, I truly shudder to think of what they will do with this.
I am sorry, my people. May we go together into the dark, for I fear that humanity will have taken all the light when this is done. | Kyloran Estraxx straightened the tie around his right neck. As was protocol when establishing contact with new races, his ship's fabricator tailored an approximation of the style worn by that world's leader. Or leaders, in some cases. In the end, Kyloran settled for a dark blue suit and a white and red tie for each neck.
The diminutive locals bowed and smiled once again, and Kyloran returned the gesture, which sparked off even more bowing. He still had no idea why so many of them congregated on such a small string of islands, but logic--and protocol--dictated that a planet's largest city/hive/nest was often that world's capital.
He was sure this "Toh Kee Hyoh" was the right choice, even if he had to keep bowing.
One approached him and bowed. "Honoured guest, our leaders are ready to see you now."
He copied the bow but not the smile. That unnerved them. "Thank you, honoured host," he said. "Please lead the way."
He followed the local leader through several hallways under an honour guard. Most were tense, even dressed in their own suits Kyloran could sense they were ready to kill or die. It comforted him to know he had made the right choice in selecting this species.
Two servants pulled the doors back and Kyloran padded down his suit before walking in. A bright light ringed the long table and a variety of the planets' leaders stood beside their seats.
He walked to the head of the table and sat as instructed by his host. They had worked out their strategy for this meeting, and Kyloran had decided to trust his host's plan. He had been briefed on each one.
"Mr. Tianpu, Mr. McMillon," he nodded to his left and right. "Hirano-san," he said warmly to the greying local who smiled back. Nobuyuki Hirano had been close with his host and had provided several gifts which had proven useful in understanding the world. He had wanted to speak with the planet's government, or barring that the leaders of the largest nations. But Hirano-san had shown him who held power on this world. Kyloran didn't like it--this world's democracy was probably their greatest invention--but he was here on a matter of life and death, his people's. The humans would have to fix it themselves.
Their familiarity caused the rest to exchange glances, but he went on naming each one after a brief pause. He could name their organizations as well, their revenues, everything they held dear. But he didn't mention that.
"Greetings. I am Kyloran Estraxx, ambassador of the Payapa Unity. I welcome you, the corporate leaders of Earth, to our first conference. Or rather, our negotiations," he said with a smile.
| 2014-12-26T12:09:55 | 2014-12-26T12:09:19 | 30 | 18 |
[WP] You are an alien on your way to the SuperMax prison known as Earth, where you will spend the rest of your life as someone's pet. | "Who's a good boy?"
"Not I, fool. I am a conqueror of worlds," I said. A high-pitched growl escaped me instead.
The young females gasped and giggled. The bipedal primates were difficult to interpret, but I was quite sure this was a display of their utter intimidation. Shortly afterward, they confirmed this by making an offering of luxury foodstuffs: the rice ball.
I gripped it in one small hand, utilizing the opposable thumb to keep it in place. Staring the leader of their pack dead in the eyes, I bit the rice ball in half. Five times my size, she squealed in horror, knowing that this could be her fate. I hid the other half, knowing how useful it would be once their star was equidistant from dusk and dawn.
'Slow Loris' they called me, perhaps in deference to my immortality. The first step in subjugating them would be hydrating myself. Dihydrogen monoxide was plentiful here. I would raise an army this way, and when the time was right, use the rice to assume my true form.
No prison can restrain us. | Zurg stretched and yawned while laying on the couch. Sure, he wished he hadn't gotten caught smuggling narcotics from Alpha Centauri, but this could definitely be worse.
"Hey, kitties! Who's ready for some din-din?"
He could swear that the native Earth cats understood him on some level. He shared a mutual rolling of the eyes with them -- as close as cats could come to rolling their eyes, anyhow -- and they rolled to their feet to trot out to their dinner bowls with tails held high. The good thing about being a cat was that Zurg was allowed to keep his dignity. Mostly. At least the lady had gotten the idea that he wasn't too thrilled about being squeezed that way. Now he just had to tolerate being petted and told things that no sane Trimi would tell anybody else. As fun as it would have been to use that information to blackmail her, well, it wasn't like he could talk in any language that humans were fluent in. | 2016-01-10T09:40:45 | 2016-01-10T09:27:58 | 90 | 24 |
[WP] Your son finally brought home a girl. She has wings, fangs, scales, and horns, but seems polite and well-mannered enough. You're just happy he found *someone*. | “But do I look cute in this dress? Not hot, cute. This is important, Brian.”
Brian didn’t know what to tell her, aside from what he had already. Yes, you do look cute, Brian thought. You look so cute that the birds sing to you when we walk by, and the flowers turn away from the sun for a moment and nudge their flowery friends and say, *‘Damn, that girl is cute!’*
“Baby, of course you look cute,” Brian said instead, because he’d used the birds line the night before when she picked out the dress, and substituted the flowers after the ivy had flowed down from the dark wave of her hair to cloak pale green shoulders and gossamer wings.
But of course that was a lie, because to Brian cute had neve*r begun* to cover Delilah. Calling Delilah cute was like calling a violet purple. They’d invented the word *violet* for a reason. Sometimes Brian wished he were a poet, just to find the word to make Delilah finally give up on cute.
There were four steps up to his parents porch. Delilah took each of them carefully, though she wore low heels today and was used to higher. When they got to the door Brian shuffled boxes and tupperware containers around in his arms, trying to find a way to hold Delilah's clammy hand and all the supplies he’d brought, and ring the doorbell for her. In the end, Delilah closed her eyes and rung it herself.
The door opened less than a second later, like Brian’s mother had been waiting on the other side.
“Ohmygod honey you look beautiful!” his mother exclaimed, reaching out towards the younger woman, arms faltering in the gap between them as she second guessed herself.
There was an awkward moment then when they both faltered, Delilah leaned forward and his mother stayed frozen, then their places switched, until finally they both laughed and hugged and the tension snapped like a branch in the wind. Brian’s father leaned against the wall in the hallway beyond, a glass of punch in his hand and the nicotine patch clearly visible on the inside of his arm.
“Bry, where did you find *her*?” his father said, a whistle practically baked into the last word.
If Delilah could have blushed she would have, but green skin did not grow rosy. There was the slightest creaking, nearly imperceptible, that signaled the tension in Delilah's jaw releasing, then she was smiling and his parents were smiling. Amid the storm of “hello’s” and “how are you’s”, somewhere between “it’s so nice to finally meet you” and “I love your dress,” Brian got to work.
He had arranged it all before they arrived. Tonight, Brian would do the cooking, he would set the table. He would prepare everything that Delilah needed to touch, down to laying a pretty cloth across the chair where she would sit, dark brown cotton that set off her pale green skin beautifully, matched the rich woodiness of her eyes.
Brian had never been close to his parents, or to much of anyone in fact, but he had prepared for this moment. He listened as he assembled the fresh salad of flower blossoms and starchy tubers, as a sauce of lavender petals and rosewater burbled on the stove. He cut the brown, rustic bread, waited for it all to fall apart.
But his parents did not ask the questions he feared. They said nothing of Delilah's gossamer wings, spun out like fine silk behind her, wings a butterfly could only dream of. They did not mention the sharpness of her nails and teeth, the way they caught the light when she smiled and made humans suddenly aware of all the things that made them mortal. They did not compliment the sweet, fresh scent of the ivy that grew from between the locks of Delilah's hair: even compliments might hurt there. The ivy was a thing not spoken of by her people.
They talked of how beautiful her dress was— Delilah had sung it into being between roots of the tree that had grown it— and they talked of how she was adjusting to life in the city. And they talked, though they knew the story already, of how she and Brian had met.
In short, the lead-in to dinner was a thing Brian had never thought he might experience. A happy, domestic time.
Then over the fried mushrooms Brian’s father said, “I’m curious though, Delilah, how old are you?”
Brian’s mother stared as if she couldn’t believe she had ever married the man. Brian squeezed the fork in his hand hard enough to bruise his palm.
And Delilah, a mushroom halfway to her mouth, made a strangled sound of distress and dropped the little morel. “Oh!” she said, eyes darting between the mushroom and Brian’s father.
“I’ll get it!” Brian started to say, but it was too late, Delilah was already on the move.
She ducked beneath the table, found the mushroom and came back up, but on the way up her hand brushed the table leg and Delilah's face went very pale. The green went almost white, and for a moment, just a moment, she was scarcely distinguishable from a human. Then the ivy shivered and a pungent fear-scent filled the room. The table shrieked, rearing up onto its back two legs. Dinner spilled all over the floor and Brian’s father’s lap, and the man leapt up with a surprised curse.
The table began to babble. | "What is your name, dear?" I ask.
"I am Zaritha, Thomas's mother." She says, slightly hissing on the 's' sounds.
"Just call me Miss Ezra, dear," I state.
"Okay, Miss Ezra."
"Now, what would you like to eat for dinner? We got a lot of choices, but since it's your first time meeting us, I want you to feel at home a bit by feeding you something you like."
"Do you... have venison... or human?"
"Hm... I think we have venison. If you want human meat next time, I can try to get that, but I'd need your help, Zaritha dear."
"I don't mind helping, Miss Ezra. Thank you."
"Of course. Now... Thomas! Get your butt down here! You bring a girl and leave her with your mother! That's not how you do this!"
"..." No response.
"Thomason Jules Ice you get down here right now or I'm gonna smack you over the top of your head!" I yell up the stairs. I hear the quick movement.
"Coming mom!" I hear him yell.
"Sorry if you didn't expect me to yell. I usually don't have to, but sometimes this boy doesn't listen. I wonder how he got an... interesting sweetheart like you, dear." I state calmly.
"It's alright..." She softly says, folding her wings. Thomas eventually gets down.
"Thomas, make her feel at home. I'm cooking venison tonight." I say.
"...can I have mine raw?"
"Sure, dear. Do you still want it seasoned?"
"...how does it taste when seasoned?"
"Hm... can you eat two servings?"
"Yes, I can, miss."
"Then I'll make two servings raw, one with seasoning and one without. If you like the seasoned one, I can season the other one, if not, I'll get you another serving without seasoning. Is that fine?" She nods. He looks away from me.
"Then it's settled," I state with a smile. I start on the seasoning and make sure to leave enough so she can have hers raw. It's odd, but hey, she has more manners than my son.
Dinner happens. She likes the seasoning, so I seasoned the other raw serving. I ate. Thomas ate. Then, his father comes home, late in the night.
"Who is that?" Zaritha asks.
"His father."
"Oh."
"Honey! Thomas! I'm home...? Who's she? And also-"
"She's a friend Thomas brought."
"I see... do I smell venison?"
"Yes."
"Is there still some left?"
"Of course, love."
"Good. Now, what's your name, little miss?" He asks.
"I am Zaritha, sir. It's nice to meet you..." she says softly.
"No need to be shy, Zaritha. I'm Mister Kirashi. It's wonderful to finally see that my son has brought a girl home, and a polite one as well." Zaritha smiles.
"Thank you, Mister Kirashi..."
"Of course. Now, Thomas, don't do anything stupid." Kirashi says.
"I- dad!"
"Son, you're a junior in high school. I was wondering if your hand was your girlfriend at this point..."
"..." Thomas got embarrassed. Zaritha softly laughed, which sounded a bit glitchy almost, but it was adorable.
"Anyways, Ezra dear, I'm gonna go eat. Make sure we don't have any hybrids while they're teens."
"Of course, dear," I reply. "Now, Zaritha, tell me about your family. I would like for us to all have a family dinner on the holidays. Maybe they bring food and we bring food so we can get to know each other."
"Oh, alright!" Her horns' tips light up and her wings sparkle in her happiness. She starts telling me things. I get her parents' contact info. They're the folks down the block. Never realized they were also this interesting. They were always so chill but distant. Guess this is why.
"So, potluck dinner on the 27th then?"
"Yeah! That would be amazing!"
"Okay then. Tell your parents that we each will bring a main dish, a lot of sides, one drink for the adults, one for you young youth, and dessert, alright?"
"Of course, Miss Ezra. Oh, I should be going. My parents are picking me up."
"Thomas, let's walk her to the car. I want to at least see her parents." I say. Thomas leads her to the door, and we walk her to the car outside. Yep, it's the one I see always parked outside their garage.
"Ah, hello there... Are you his mother?" A guy, almost vampiric in appearance, asks. He's in the passenger's seat. A lady who I think is half-snake is driving.
"Yes, I am. Now, she has something I told her to tell you, and I have given her my contact info. If you want to do it, you can, but she's always welcome here. Have a great night, you guys." I say. They nod and leave.
"Now, Thomas..."
*When do you want to tell them we're just like them?* | 2021-11-06T20:49:00 | 2021-11-06T18:15:11 | 541 | 195 |
[WP] "They said that gluing salt to a baseball bat to fight ghosts was a stupid idea, but who's laughing now?" you say as you whacked the ghost again. | The bat made a satisfying thunk as it struck home. The ghost fell over, I was surprised to see the apparition had legs, and what's more they were clad in blue jeans and combat boots. I struck a knee.
The ghost howled in pain, lifting a chubby hand to protect itself. "Stop!" It shouted. "What are you doing?"
I took in the pale form, more opaque than I had ever imagined but I knew enough about ghosts to know one when I saw one. "I'm ghost busting."
"What the hell?" It shouted scooching away from me. "I'm not a ghost you idiot! It's a hood!"
"That's just what a ghost would say, but grandpappy taught that salt is like fire to your kind, so when I saw you sneaking across the field I knew just what to do." Another satisfying impact. I really got my weight into it.
When it could breathe again it struggled to sit. "You're a fucking idiot! You see this? You know what this means?" It pointed to a crimson symbol branded onto the snowy form.
"It means your spirit won't be free until that symbol is gone." I drove the bat into the symbol, once, twice, and there was the sound of breaking bones the third time. "And I don't take kindly to you departed making trouble for the neighbors. But fear not, spirit, for I'll soon be sending you upon your way."
"You're protecting the ni..." I cut him off with a blow between the eyes. Then another. And another. Eight, maybe ten times. The spirit had moved on, and would trouble the living no longer. | My arms throbbed. All I could see was shattered glass and torn wallpaper, and it didn’t matter where I looked. And then I closed my eyes, and the sound of ghosts flooded my senses.
​
My hands felt rough. I plucked the opened bottle of glue from the carpet and quickly examined the label. The words moved and became blurred as I read them. Tossing the bottle aside, I stumbled through a sea of salt and glass and made my way outside.
​
The light hurt my eyes. I reached into my pocket and pulled out two green pills. I felt confused.
​
“Good Morning!” A distant voice exclaimed. “I heard a commotion coming from your room just now. Is everything okay?” She sounded concerned.
​
“Yes, everything is fine.” I said this to her plainly. I walked back inside and I instinctively dry swallowed the pills in my hand. I sat down on an overturned piece of furniture and closed my eyes.
​
All I could feel was my arms throb. I closed my eyes and felt calmer. “That’s better,” I said to myself softly. | 2020-10-04T22:33:38 | 2020-10-04T20:04:53 | 62 | 14 |
[WP] 2174. Sleep is prohibited amongst all U.S citizens. Pills known as “Wakey Tablets” provide enough raw energy to stay awake for 3 days. Anyone caught sleeping will be shot on sight. You are secretly running an underground network of beds for all to sleep on. You hear a knock on the door. | There was a sharp rap at the door. A formality. They knew I was going to have to let them in. Yawning, I reached for my regulation robes and slid my arms through each billowing beige sleeve. Tying a knot tautly at my waist, I cleared my throat and called towards the door "I'm coming!" In the caverns below my unassuming duplex, I knew that dozens of beds would vibrate as the silent alarm activated. I could sense the panic as my resting friends were jolted from sweet slumber and sent scattering through the exit networks into the unending sun.
Twenty seconds had passed as I crossed the threshold of my parlor and reached the front door.
​
"Good day, fellow patriots." My smile manufactured, my eyes wide and unblinking.
​
"May The Sun bless you." I motioned for them to enter. Four enforcers marched into my home, their burgundy robes undulating behind them, their boots muddying my cherry wood floors. Their leader, a tall woman whose face was dominated by her dark, heavy brow, clasped my wrist with her right hand.
​
"You have information for us." It was not a question, and I turned to hide a smirk. "I do. Communion?" She nodded. "Please, sit. I will return with our holy drink." It was a moment or two before I returned with the steaming pot of coffee I had brewed for myself that morning. Setting the down the tray of 5 mismatched mugs, I filled each with the steaming black gold. The four enforcers sat unflinchingly still. I reached out for the cup closest to me and raised the music note adorned chalice to the sky. "May the sun never set on our glorious kingdom." The leader leaned towards the remaining mugs, choosing one after a moment labeled "world's best boss." She too raised her glass, the others following her lead. "We dedicate our bodies to the eternal glory of Ra."
​
I took the first sip. Once they observed the liquid pass my throat they followed suit. I let out a satisfied sigh.
​
"I suppose time is of the essence. I'll get started..." I prattled off false information with a sense of urgency. names, underground location approximations, escape routes, and anything else I could think of as the scribes alternated writing my words and gulping down their coffee. As I finished speaking, I took a second sip of my coffee and smiled. Judging by the nearly lukewarm temperature of the liquid, twenty Old-Earth minutes had passed.
​
The leader let out a tepid yawn. Her compatriates bolted upright, staring in horror. The wrinkled, red-headed man to her left suppressed a yawn as best he could but ultimately failed. His face contorted as he tried to hold back, eyes widening in horror. They dropped their mugs.
​
"What have you done to us?" Their leader shrieked her last. Blinking for perhaps the first time in decades, they had but moments to ponder their sins as they each collapsed onto the floor. I set my mug gently on the tray and set about tidying up their mess. I let them sleep where they lay, softly snoring, drool inching its way out of the corners of their agape mouths.
​
They'd awaken in a day or two forever changed. They were sinners now, worshippers of the God of night. No convert of mine had ever looked back. | "Man, Halloween isn't for another three months. Get the hell outta here."
"I heard you got the good sleep, friendziki," the guy in the Cyber-Reaper costume says.
"You heard wrong," I tell him, and wave. The door clamps shut.
I turn around and almost jump out of my skin. *He's in here*. Chilling at my table. "Wha-Bu-... How in-Where-Who?"
"Aww yeah, you got them new synthbrews. You mind?" he helps himself without waiting for my permission.
"Who the frizzle are you? What the hell are you doing here?"
He spits out my drink. "Gross. Bananas didn't used to taste like that. Oh. Yeah. I'm Morktronimus."
I'm stunned. Puzzled. Befuzzled.
"I'm Death, my wizzle! New centuries, new names, ya dig? I mork people now. It's what I do! Oh, and, uh... by the way, you're next."
"Wha... Me? What did I do?"
"*All the stimulants*. You've had three replacement hearts. You like them Wakey Tablets. You take like, what? Six at a time now?"
"Seven, actually. They make me feel good."
"I like you, friendziki. So here's the situlation: Zonk Patrol knows you're harboring sleepers. And Big Zonk don't play no shit. They're on the way right now."
I don't like where this is headed...
"Two ways we can cut this cheddarella. Truth is, I'm behind on my quotas. The hereafter is starving for good people, labor's being outsourced to the nethers, and my job just don't pay enough for all these morkings I gotta do. I need a miracle. What is a death god to do? So then it hit me. I can use you, my little morkling. You want to put people to sleep? That's fine. You can come work for me and put people to sleep *permanently*."
"Are you for rizzles?"
"Serious as a coronary. Alls you got to do is take the Big Wakey. Take the whole damn bottle. All twenty five tablets."
"That's an overdose."
"Exactly."
"What happens if I refuse?"
"I'm gonna mork you either way. The zonkers outside'll getcha if you don't. But the thing is, OD's get a loopsuit in the lawhole. I can nab you before you get hit by the light at the end of the tunnel."
"But that sounds..."
"You get *fabulous* *magic powers* if you work for me*.* Nowhere else."
"What happens if—"
But before I can finish, something on him beeps. He rolls up his robe sleeve to reveal a hundred watches.
"Big oof," he says, "I'm late again! Well, I gotta dip. Thanks for the bananarita. You know where to find me."
He puts on aviators, gives me the vintage finger gun salute, and phases through the floor.
"See you on the flip side," he says, and he's gone.
I pick up the bottle of Wakeys. I need to have a think about this... but I hear sirens outside. | 2019-06-19T09:37:06 | 2019-06-19T07:22:51 | 30 | 13 |
[WP] Hiding the fact that you are a half-demon to your classmates is easy as being helpful at school and putting on a friendly face. What could go wrong? Well, nothing's worse than being summoned by one of your classmates, that's for sure. | You were mixing up some matcha tea before putting it on a kettle. No one would imagine a demoness like yourself would brew her own tea but sometimes the tiny earthly pleasures were the best for an immortal being.
Suddenly dark purple smoke swirled around your feet. Quickly you put down the small bowl down and sigh annoyed. “Demon in robes and pigtail it is…”
The smoke dissipates around “Hi, hello. Let’s this over with so I can return to my nightly activities. What does your heart desire? yadda yadda, you probably know the rest?” You are met with silence and you take in your surroundings. You know this dorm room, oh no.
You look down and see a young man on the floor quivering in fear. “Ah damnit! Calm down Jack, not going to hurt you.” You reach for a chair and sit down. You look at the summoning ritual and it’s surprising simplistic in its design.
“Luna?”
“In the flesh, you summoned me with a lesser ritual? Oh this is humiliating.” You rub your temple while meeting his nervous gaze.
“You’re a lesser demon?!”
Your eyes glowed a menacing purple “Call me a lesser again and you will have something fear, babe.”
“How did I end up summoning you, then?”
“The difference in power needed to summon lesser, from a greater demon…” you put your hand on your chest “… or an elder demon isn’t that big really, it’s distance from the summoner that usually matters the most. So the ritual instead of targeting some random trash in hell it targeted me.”
Jack sat on floor dumbfounded, “so let me get this straight, I’ve been dating a demoness for 2 and half years?”
You rubbed your eyes “yeah pretty much, can you keep it a secret? Otherwise I’ll just have to wipe your memory and you’ll be down a girlfriend.”
He nodded and you figured that’s the best you could get. “Alright then, I’ll return to my dorm now.” Purple smoke started swirling around your feet again. “Why were you summoning a demon this early? Next time wait until 3 am so I’m properly dressed for this.”
Soon enough you had your tea in the kettle and you heard a knock on your door. You partially open it and see Jack standing with his arms crossed and standing straight, but his fingers betrayed his strong pose by fidgeting with his hoodie. “We need to talk.”
You roll you eyes and fully open the door. “Fine, I made tea, I had the third Kissing Booth on, we can talk while I finish.” He looked at you as if his mind had blown up. You burst up laughing and pulled him inside.
“Hey, don’t judge me, it’s cute!”
r/sipYoEscribiEsto | “OwO what’s this who had summoned me?” I say flouring my demonic robes as i rise out of the Summoning circle. With a final flourish of red sparkles and smoke I turn to see -SAM fucken SAM my smile faltered
“Magufuli?” He said poking my blood red robes.
“No stop” I pull my rides away. What am I supposed to do? I turn back around. I’ll tell him that I’ve possessed Thai body or something. I hear a little pop and I glance back to see Sam leaned back on his bean bag opening a soda.
“What are you doing”
“Waiting” Said Sam eying me up and down. Pausing at my exposed chest
“Excuse me” I pull my robes in closer, I wasn’t even that handsome there was nothing to see not even chest hair. But that didn’t stop him from feeling his face becoming hot.
“Soooo Magifuli what are you going to do for me” he said circling his fingers around the sofa can.
“Oh plenty of things, now I’m not as strong as other Demond’s but that’s what makes me better sometimes you just need the small revenge no one gets hurt but you get back at them. Or maybe you just want to get faster and destroy people on line, I’m quite flexible.”
“No I mean what can you do for me as Magufuli not a Demond”
“I uh” - What could he possibly want? did he know who he was messing with? Wait he doesn’t “I do not know of this “Magufuli you speak of. I appear to people as their worst” enemies? no we barely new each other competitors? Uhhh -“friend”
He raised an eyebrow and placed the soda on the ground before laughing “Magufuli you do know my last friend nearly killed me right?”
“Oh no I didn’t” I answered meekly
“Yeah it was this whole thing accused me of some really serious stuff because I called him out on his assholy” He stood up and brushed the counter. His textbook neatly arranged and pens perfectly allied. His entire room was blank white. No posters no basketball tucked away just a bed text books and Tshirts and pants folded into a draw with a spotless surface.
Everyone who had summoned him had at least a disorganized desk. Most rooms were unlivable. Clothes every where decaying food, unfinished homework used tissues.
Author: Idk where to go after this lol. maybe I’ll add something | 2021-09-20T11:13:26 | 2021-09-20T03:07:06 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] It is The Purge. Everything is legal. You are a real estate mogul, for 12 hours you don't need planning permits. There's money to be made. | It was a bit tricky putting up a barricade around the whole perimeter of my property that was threatening enough to keep out the baddies but at the same time look impermanent enough that the HOA wouldn't suspect anything, the damn bastards. Pretty sure Ed from three doors down asked me for my permits on about 4 or 5 different occasions. And, that was after Susanne from across the street had passive aggressively commented on how my "little project" must be taking up a lot of my time as I had left my trashcan out all afternoon. But you see, I had played by their rules. I had permits for everything. The walls were the right color, texture, and had all of the right signage. (Even if I had caught Judy tampering with one of my signs while walking her Bichon Frise one night in hopes of getting me at least some sort of infraction.) But don't worry, I'll show them all.
Why go through all this trouble? Why get permits for the walls, permits for the electric lines and generators going to the wall, permit for the abnormal trash placement, permits for the heavy machinery to move the barricades, permit for additional lighting, etc.? Well you see I have a dream. Additionally, I had read the whole of the HOA's bylaws the last purge. While we were sitting safe in our home with the HOA approved security system in our forever sleepy neighborhood (only one death last year and it was within a family), I read the whole damn thing. Though the night tends to be safe in our neighborhood, I didn't want to risk one of the HOA crazies taking out all of their pent up anger over the set of begonias that I had gotten permitted to be off color from the rest of the street. (That was a tough fight) So emboldened by my past success I wanted to know how else I could use their own rules against them and read them all, and then I hatched this plan.
What was this plan, what was my dream, you ask? Well before I get to that I must tell you about what is making it possible. You see when the HOA's rules were adopted, they understood that they could not ignore municipal code. Whatever the City said should take first priority. I think this is one of the ways in which they keep themselves legally airtight, I don't really know, I'm not a lawyer. Anyways, there is one little phrase in the general laws section (One of the least used sections) that says that all municipal codes and city ordinances supersede any rule or law of the HOA. And well, it just so happens that our city has it written into its books that on the night of the Purge all permitting requirements, all building requirements, all rules around properties are abolished. Additionally, it acknowledges that any changes intentionally made to a property during the night of the Purge, unless deemed unsafe for the public (Think falling walls or booby traps), were given a special provisional permit. Finally, another small clause in the HOA bylaws included a grandfather clause that was slightly vague. It was intended to allow people from an older part of the subdivision to keep their trees and skylights, etc. However, it stated that any irregularities or non-conforming portions of a house from a time in which the HOA rules were not in force would be given a grandfathered protection as long as the irregularity stood. (Further clauses gave examples of if a tree were to be replaced it would need to be permitted through the HOA and be of the approved variety and placement) Ad Naseum...
Anyways, finally onto my dream: to have a blue house with a with a patio that had a built in grill and a pool. Luckily I'm a pretty successful mid-range real estate developer and have access to many workers who I have personally vetted and can trust to work with me under the guise of a company dinner party during the Purge. (Don't ask me how we ended up in such a horrible HOA despite being in real estate. I said developer, not estate agent. Besides the significant other wanted to live here) And, with most of the equipment to build the barricade able to also dig holes and help lift heavy materials, all that was left was to make sure that I kept all of the tile, concrete, pvc pipe, pumps, roofing material, paint, and lumber out of sight from prying eyes. I'll just say not a single room in the house didn't have most of its space taken up with building supplies. Looked like a damn episode of hoarders up in my house for a good month.
Anyways, the night of the Purge came and we went to work. Most of the crew began painting and unpacking supplies as we got organized. I kicked on the electric generators to power the electric lines within the barricade and all the lights we could ever need. Luckily, I had chosen some of the loudest ones I could find, as they would help drown out the heavy machines (Even if it didn't I didn't care, it was the purge after all). And we got to work. The pool was a bit tricky, as it all needed to be completed in a night. I had researched and researched and found a company named Kerdy that normally did shower liner/waterproofing systems that had branched into rapid pool construction (apparently a lot of people wanted pools but didn't want them permitted). Their system included a set of rigid 3D printed supports that interconnected to make a shell that would hold the liners that would connect to a set of piers driven into the ground for stability. On top of that would sit an extra strength waterproof membrane system. Then a person could choose to have either a typical pool liner or a plaster and tile system on top of this. I chose a pool liner because of time and metal piers instead of concrete due to time. Since the purge was late fall this time, we had plenty of darkness to work but waiting on concrete to set would not be an option.
As night continued, we finished the digging and the painting of the house was about complete, there was a noise loud enough to overcome the generators. I could just barely hear the screaming from two doors over at Phyllis' place. It was mixed with the sounds of some heavy bass and I couldn't tell if the saw was one of mine or coming from her place. Didn't matter though, none of us were going to be a hero and besides she had the same security system the rest of us did. And if it was one of her family members (she had invited a dodgy looking grandson over), there was little any the rest of us could do to help because the security system would probably kill us for being intruders anyways. Either way, I took two people off painting duty and set them to watching the cameras I had installed on the barricade.
After that everything mostly quieted down, there was a fire at about 3 in the street down at the opposite end of the subdivision when some kids apparently ran over the automated spike strips that our neighborhood had installed a couple of purges ago. Apparently they were angry they couldn't use the car anymore and set it on fire. Idk, I don't know if I trust Carol and Dave's story on that. But that was also about when we finished mortaring up the brick for the grill and joining the patio structure to the house. The painting was now finished and we were putting up new shutters as well and I could tell that no one was any the wiser on the HOA's facebook page. No posts no nothing, just how I wanted it.
We finished around 5:30, about 30 minutes before sunrise. The grill and patio still needed to have concrete set up but they were in place. The pool was still filling with water, but it looked to be holding water like it was supposed to and all the equipment was running correctly like it should. And as a last touch I went and got the two trees from my garage that I had hidden for the last two days and smuggled to my house in the dead of night. A pair of pecan trees, in just the wrong spot for regulation. I gathered all my workers inside to thank them (Don't worry they were paid handsomely, but not until the next pay period, don't want someone getting shifty before daybreak) and make a celebration breakfast and wait for daybreak and the true screaming to begin... |
Gene Rathbone had become the talk of the town.
"He's gone mad, liquidating everything he has! Millions of dollars!"
"Do you know who snatched up that skyscraper between 7th and the Boulevard?"
"The price was almost nothing, he paid me three times as much just a couple of years ago."
"What *is* he planning?"
*"Who cares!"*
Gene Rathbone sold everything.
---
"So it's settled then?" Gene took a puff from his cigar and angled his hawkish frame toward his companion, Mr. Bennett, who just happened to be a person that managed all the state holdings in the Valley and then some. Gene was twirling his goatee in such a manner that Mr. Bennet found it impossible to chase the image of a devil from his brain. The half-light of the blinds rendered the realtor's face and the smoke surrounding it into a striped visage that was downright phantasmal.
"We will meet at your safehouse for the purge, sit it out and do some *legal* business. I trust you've secreted it well enough for us to have some privacy during the event."
Mr. Bennett's face was an image of anxiety, but he nonetheless agreed.
"Of course I have-"
He had intended to carry on with a question: "But what is it that you're after, Rathbone?" Alas, he found the utterance making a hasty U-turn before his vocal chords, taking after that a rather unguided left leading into his stomach and therein forming a nasty knot. He swallowed and his guts rumbled.
"You are going to be a very rich man, Mr. Bennett. It will be a pleasure doing business with you." Another puff of smoke. Mr. Bennet could swear he saw the devil's eyes glowing.
---
Mr. Bennett's safehouse was very strong. It had once been an ammunition storage for the army, dug right into the rocky hillside and reinforced with an amount of steel that could keep the nearby GM factory running happily for a day. There was a series of vault doors that probably *could* be broken through, but there wasn't a force on Earth that could do it in 24 hours. Despite this, Mr. Bennett's anxiety had only been growing during the weeks following his chat with Gene Rathbone. The aforementioned presently manifested from the undergrowth as if commanded by a twitch of a warlock's wand. Even the pinprick-glow of his omnipresent cigar was not visible to Mr. Bennett before he saw it travelling across the small clearing toward him, pulling the rest of the fiend and the bag it was carrying along its trail from the shadows. The sun was setting, but there was still some time before the event began.
"Good evening, Mr. Bennett."
---
The safehouse might have been spartan had it been the office-holder's first rodeo. As it were, the comparatively small interior was lavishly furnished, a haphazardly installed and ancient stove remaining as a sole reminder that it was originally not quite intended to be lived in. A happy little fire was going, but the mood couldn't stick to the men settling within.
The realtor poured himself a scotch without permission before settling into the nearest of a pair of baroque armchairs. Slowly, as if as an afterthought, he checked his watch, maneuvered his bag onto the table and nodded toward it.
"10,600,000 dollars and change. You can count it if you wish, time is something we should have an excess of."
Mr. Bennett, for his part, had provided a thick folder of official stationary, a couple of pens, and a pair of glasses that he now balanced on the very tip of his sleek nose. Through them he then observed the composition before him, his eyes on a pendulum trail between the bag and the financial apparition known as Gene Rathbone. He made a brief show of clicking open the bag and manipulating the topmost stacks of bills about. He didn't even attempt at evaluating the truthfulness of the statement made to him despite having the time -- the idea of that gargoyle watching him silently was too horrendous to him.
"I- I trust you." he stammered wiping his gleaming brow. The lights flickered momentarily and the slight dip in the otherwise imperceptible background hum made the existence of a generator deep underneath fleetingly obvious before the enchantment of the hum descended again.
"Now then, you want *everything* in the valley? Every publicly owned patch of land, buildings, infrastructure?" He knew the answer, but it felt like saying something was necessary.
"Everything, Mr. Bennet. Every square inch and grain of stone or steel or glass. Don't be frightened for your station -- you will never have to work again."
---
The hours passed with surprising alacrity, each following the other without interruption. Mr Bennet produced a form, read out the key points to Gene who never commented on anything, only nodded before carving his signature below the official's. The only changes in the room were the stack of papers transplanting itself to another side of the table one by one and the ashtray next to Gene developing a mountain of stubs. Despite the efforts of the ventilation the air was thick with smoke that generated a singular, ever-deepening twilight despite the unseen sun first rising and then falling again somewhere outside, in another world. A clock on the wall made this known to them, but for all intents and purposes they could have been within for an hour or a week.
At last the rightmost pile became extinct as the last form migrated to the left, proclaiming Gene Rathbone as the new owner of St. Martin's Hospital and the surrounding lands, among everything proclaimed in the sheets below it. Mr. Bennett sighed.
"One hour remaining, we are ahead of schedule, Mr. Bennett." Gene's lips made a horrifying twitch resembling a momentary grin as he snuffed his cigar on top of the Great Pyramid beside him. "As much as I enjoy your company, I think I might as well risk it outside by now." Mr. Bennett nodded and gazed into nothing, before waking from his reverie with a shudder and hastily sliding the pile of documents within the folder which Gene picked up as he rose from the chair.
"Be careful with your finances. Many a man has been ruined by sudden income." The almost genuine tone that entered an otherwise chilling voice caught Mr. Bennett off guard and he mumbled something agreeable as he guided his now penniless visitor towards the vault doors that began unsealing ponderously. An early morning sun greeted them as the final door opened, reflecting from the roofs of the city down in the valley. At this distance one could not distinguish what horrors had filled the streets and hallways and apartments in the dark of the night. None of that worried Mr. Bennet, nor Gene Rathbone. Mr. Bennett chekced his watch. It was still half an hour to the end.
"Goodbye Mr. Bennett." were the last words the official heard from Gene Rathbone. The realtor took a step outside.
Mr. Bennett then took a deep sigh, took his revolver from the back of his belt, took aim, and took the shot.
Gene Rathbone slumped down and never moved again. His face no longer took the appearance of the devil. Instead, Mr. Bennett found on it an expression of calm that horrified him in the brightness of the morning sun more than the devil ever could in the dark of the night. He had shot the man, but it now seemed the devil never left the room. He then watched the folder be reduced to cinders in the stove and took the time counting the money. Then, finally, he lit a cigar.
---
Mr. Bennett had become the talk of the town.
"He just bought the autoyard, in cash."
"No way anyone has that kind of money *in cash.*"
"He quit his job a week ago, says he's into a 'new form of business' now."
"Arturo tells me he came in and bought everything on the top shelf. Those were all Cuban!"
Mr. Bennett bought everything.
---
| 2018-07-10T08:00:09 | 2018-07-10T07:20:44 | 458 | 45 |
[WP] You are a shopkeeper in a fantasy world. What the adventurers don't know is that your tired of greedy heroes robbing dragons, stealing tribal lands from orcs, and butchering young slimes. You've secretly become an arms dealer for the monster underground. | Wasn't enough to just be a shopkeeper these days - no, times were a'changing. See, all these adventurers sound like a great idea, at the start at least. They come into the town, offer to just about exterminate whatever ain't human, for a price of course. Just appealing to damned xenophobia, really. Then they happily go a'killing and bleed us dry. Never bother buying much weapons or anythin' from me either, not like the monsters put up much of a fight. At least, they never used to.
No, I learned that it was better to play both sides. All those monsters who weren't doing much harm to no one before - well, now they've got some damn fine weapons and armor, and they're not no pushovers now. The goblins are armed to the teeth, they are. The orcs have battleaxes that I smithed m'self and they can cleave through leather like it's going out of fashion - which it ain't, leather's always a good buy, only 5 silver pieces if you want the full set.
See, the land's suddenly found itself being far more dangerous for adventurers, thanks to me of course. But it's only fair, right? I'm just leveling the playing field. And now the adventurers have to stock up on better weapons and potions themselves, which only helps me more. Some people may think its amoral, I know my old wife ain't too happy about it - but who's the true bad guys here, eh? The shopkeeper helping the disenfranchised defend themselves, or the damned murder hobos indulging in a bit of genocide? If you ask me, I'm just providing equal service. Fair's fair, eh?
Of course, nobody in the town knows, not just yet. Doesn't pay to be too vocal about it, but all the so-called 'monsters' know me by name. Don't have no problems with them neither - never really did before, but 'specially not since I've been helping 'em out, for a price of course. A man's gotta make a living, even if it's off a killin'. I just consider it payback, cause most of those species ain't no trouble for us. Them quest-givers who want them all dead, well they're worst of the bunch, I'll tell you that for free.
Although sure, there's some monsters I simply won't equip - the one's that don't got no money, hah! For real though, the undead know better than to put their foot in here, and they better take it with 'em too. Necromancers in general are not welcome, neither are those damned trolls. You can never reason with a ton'o rock. I have my standards, just as any man.
Well, that's my story, so you can't say I ain't a straight talker.
But as I was saying, Mr Ogre, how about this 'ere fine war hammer? It's a pricey one, sure, but I hear there's plenty adventurers afoot who's armed to the teeth - don't hurt to be too careful these days.
*****
*****
[CroatianSpy](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/) | Yes, I am tired of greedy heroes ravaging the land and perpetuating some sort of discrimination. I can't exactly put a finger on it, and dare not to for it is unfair to judge all heroes equally, but to put it bluntly I see their "heroics" as exactly that. So long as you're not human, elf or dwarf, so long as you don't have two legs and intelligence - again, by human standards - you are fair game for these adventurers, acting as if the whole world revolves around them.
And still they complain that my gear is too expensive, that I am robbing them. They expect the Shopkeeper's Guild to grovel before them as though they are the source of our livelihood. Did they not know that the Royal Army pays me even better to train their swordsmiths and fletchers? Do they not know that people like me are the experts on the use of these arms? No, to them it's all just glory and fame. The better ones have a few drops of honour mixed in there, but they are few and far between.
Of course, when I became an arms dealer for the Orcs, I soon realised why they were no better. In fighting us, they slowly took on our worse traits, while almost never taking on what made me proud to be human. They rarely considered magic, and only one in a thousand ever thought of healing magic. The vast majority merely wanted something to club or slice their opponents with, and it's clear they were brought up from a young age to fight. I can't blame them, for we have been at war for eternity, but I just wonder if they had ever considered anything else other than keeping me in business.
The dragon isn't much better. She is the source of a lot of my raw materials; the common scrap metal for rank-and-file soldiers and newbie adventurers, and she will very rarely lend me one scale for the rarer stuff. But she hoards such a huge fortune sitting around in a dank grotto doing nothing! If I understood dragons, I'd say she even gets some enjoyment out of killing knight after adventurer after hero. And as much as these guys can be arrogant, they're still sons, fathers, brothers, loyal subjects at their core.
So why do I continue upon my path? Last year I met the love of my life. She's no princess, but she might as well be; refined as much as a commoner can be, and caring towards our son. And I can't deny that I am indeed perpetuating the conflict even more by selling arms, but let's talk about the principles later; I have a family to feed, just as these feuding parties have egos to stoke.
And there is but one rule I need to follow, to allow the rest of the market to be fair game: I must never see the business end of my merchandise pointed towards me. Only towards others. | 2018-09-18T00:05:20 | 2018-09-17T22:17:22 | 1,285 | 395 |
[WP] Rewrite the lyrics of any Disney song to make it about World War II
Any song that has been in a Disney movie is acceptable.
Just make the lyrics so that it seemed like it was supposed to be about World War II. | Let's get down to business
To defeat the Brits
Did they send me Jews
When I asked for Aryans?
----------------------------------
You're the saddest bunch I ever met
But you can bet before we're through
Mister, I'll make a man
Out of you.
---------------------
Tranquil as a fuhrer
But on fire within.
Once you find your center
You are sure to win.
-
You're a spineless, pale pathetic jew
And you haven't got a clue.
Somehow I'll make a man
Out of you.
-
I'm never gonna catch my breath
Say goodbye to those who knew me
Boy, was I a fool in school for cutting youth
This guy's got them scared to death
Hope he doesn't see right through me
Now I really wish that I knew how to shoot
-
[men] BE A MAN
We must be swift as a coursing u-boat
[men] BE A MAN
With all the force of a great fuhrer
[men] BE A MAN
With all the strength of a raging fire
Mysterious as the dark side of the room
-
Time is racing toward us
'til the Jews arrive.
Heed my every order
And they won't survive.
-
You're unsuited for the rage of war
So pack up, go shower you're through
How could I make a man
Out of you?
-
[men] BE A MAN
We must be swift as a coursing u-boat
[men] BE A MAN
With all the force of a great fuhrer
[men] BE A MAN
With all the strength of a raging fire
Mysterious as the dark side of the room
Heil!
| The blood glows bright on the mountain tonight,
motionless bodies under the moon,
a kingdom of death,
and it looks like the platoon.
____________________________
The wind is howling like a swarm of bullets flying by,
Couldn't keep them safe, heaven knows I tried.
_____________________________
Don't let them see you, don't let them find you,
you weren't the captain you were meant to be,
conceal, don't yell, don't let them know,
but soon they'll know.
_______________________________
Let them go, let them go.
Can't save their lives anymore.
Let them go, let them go.
Turn away and leave the core.
_______________________________
Here we started,
and here they died,
I let the storm rage on.
_______________________________
Their bodies lay motionless on the ground,
their souls pounding away from the world,
and one man survives in the storm,
I'm never going back.
The dead are dead.
_______________________________
Let them go, let them go.
Can't save their lives anymore.
Let them go, let them go.
Turn away and leave the core.
_______________________________
Here I stand,
in the light of day,
let them find me,
Death has already come for me anyway.
______________________________
This was a lot harder than it sounded. I had to skip a few stanzas because I couldn't quite formulate the words, but it was fun.
Nice prompt. | 2015-05-11T17:09:24 | 2015-05-11T16:33:22 | 17 | 12 |
[WP] You grew up in a religious family. Due to a minor speech impediment, you inadvertently prayed to the long forgotten deity "Veebuse" for most of your adolescence. Now in college, you have stopped praying every night. Worried, Veebuse comes to check on his only worshiper. | The room wobbled as the young man walked, tipping slightly to the left, then tilting slightly to the right. He thought this room was very inconsiderate at this hour of the night and him having drunk just a tad too much. The stairs were a bit of a challenge but surely walking up on all fours was the superior way to go. At last he reached his room and gracefully missed his chair, landing hard on the floor. This room was even ruder than the first and had an awful habit of spinning around on some ever changing axis.
“You seem unwell,” cooed a soft voice from one of the rotating corners. “Please, let me clear your mind and body.”
At once, the room stopped its movement, his eyes able to focus, and his mouth cleared of the foul taste that lingered before. He also became keenly aware that neither the voice in his room nor a sudden cure was at all normal. He struggled to find the light switch in the darkened room while never letting his eyes off of the corner that spoke to him. He flicked the switch and while most of the room lit up, the corner remained in shadows.
He stood up, puffing up his chest and broadening his shoulders. “Who are you and what are you doing in my room?” his voice betraying the look of confidence he was trying to muster.
“Do you not recognise me, William? For years you prayed to me and I protected you for you were mine and yet my voice stirs nothing?” The voice remained soft, perhaps even hurt. “I have come to see you, to find why your devotion to me has waned. I am Veebuse, the protector, a god of a people who have long since grown silent.”
The cogs in the young man’s mind, freed from the gumming effect of the alcohol churned away till he began to realize just what was going on. “I struggle with speaking clearly, I was praying to Veebuse Christ though I haven’t since I started college.”
“Your intent means nothing to me, child. You called out to me in the darkness and I came. Your prayers asked for many things outside of my sphere of influence as a god of protection but I was there. When you slipped on that mountain I guided your hand to a hold and gave your fingers strength. When your tire popped and you lost control I straightened your course. Count all the times in your reckless youth that you escaped harm and I was there every time.” The voice was growing firmer with each example.
“Then, what should I do?” William asked.
“Pray.” There was a pause, then the shadow spoke again, softening its tone. “It was so quiet, centuries and millennia driffed by in unchanging loneliness. I protected my people the best I could from a calamity but they turned away. ‘Veebuse spared us but did nothing for our land, our food, we will perish slowly and exposed.’ They were right and over time, I was forgotten. Death would be preferable to that fate.”
During this, William began edging his way towards the far corner where the shadow remained tucked away till soon he stood at nearly arms length. Veebuse reached out from their shadow, the forearm clad in a leather guard, the hand was a light green and heavily calloused. “Will you once again give me the joy of a mortal follower, and in return I shall continue my careful watch over you?”
William hesitated before taking the hand in his own and before he could voice his agreement, the hand, the shadow was gone leaving nothing but the yellowing wallpaper that had always been there. He stood there for a moment before going over to his bed and praying.
Edit: Holy Veebuse, Thank you everyone. Never had this good of a response.
Edit 2: Hecking heck, thank you for the award. I almost didn't post this because I generally coward out of these. | Eighteen god dammed years I lived with this stupid speech impediment, my parents wouldn't helped me to get rid of it, I was bullied hard for it. "It's a gift of god" they said, "It would be against his path" they said.
Now that I am eighteen, free and finally rid of my curse, I thought everything would get normal, you know "normal". No praying to Veebuse, Jesus, or whatever higher being my parents obsessed with. No church even on my birthdays or when I was ill. Finally some sane friends, a quite life and my doors open to a better future. And better it got.
One day, a bright flash of light, filling the room like liquids blinded me in the night. And out of the wake a breathtakingly beautiful woman came out.
She came closer to me, holding a hand on my cheek, and so my eyes instantly adjusted to the darkness again, and I could see her in her full ... smallness.
"Hey, sorry about that light thing, I forgot it's night here ..."
"Oh, no problem, you fixed that again ... Wait, WHO are you? No, *What* are you?"
"Oh, uhm ... I am Veebuse, the goddess your prayed to for the last ... eh 14 years I think"
"Huh, that's ... awkward. I prayed to you because of my speech impediment. I don't even believed in this ... but you seem to be real ... I think."
Her face got red, and it looked like tears formed in her eyes, she looked down "Oh, ok. I'll leave then"
"WaiWaiWaiWait, what is wrong, why so sad?"
"When gods and goddesses got forgotten, they become mortal, and die alone. Because we get thrown into prison, the other gods try to hide us, to forget they will suffer the same. And I am shortly before that. I don't have a problem with being mortal, I just don't want to be alone. I was alone my whole life, no other kids wanted to be with me, and my parents aren't anymore ...
I moved in to hug her, she definitely needed it ... and I too "Hey, uhm. I live alone too, I never had any real friends. My parents ... they never seem to be 100% "sane". I can get worse tho, but this is a shit attitude."
She looked up, with a grin on her face, which I did not like "Can I ... live with you? PLEASE?"
I hated her already: "I guess, but I don't how we can make you a real person. We would have to give you a name, ID etc. and probably more clothes?"
"Oh, I still have some powers left, I can make myself an ID etc what is needed. I do not however have a home up there ..."
"Of course, you can sleep at my place, that won't be much of a problem."
"Thank you"
And with that her face sunk into my chest again "Hey, I need to get up early ... today? I was awake way to long ... fuck. Ok, I make my couch ready so you have a place to sleep, I have to start sleeping fast."
After making everything ready and saying good night I fell into my bed. 'So Veebuse is real ... I definitely have to find a better name for her, if she wants. Not only is that gorgeous woman real, not only is she lying on my couch tonight, no, I will live with her for a bit ... I guess gods path wasn't that bad ...' | 2020-04-07T07:23:14 | 2020-04-07T05:07:37 | 2,693 | 55 |
[WP] You are hunted by a pale and faceless man that only you can see. The man moves in slow motion. When you sleep at night, you do not dream. Instead you see through his perspective. | He was still there. He was always there.
“Stop! What do you want with me?”
The people around me turned to look at me. Of course no one else saw him. They thought I was the crazy one.
He was getting too close. It was time for me to move.
But did it matter? A few days and he’d be back.
I went home, my head pounding.
A couple of hours later, I realized I had dropped my grocery bag and not gotten anything. Damnit.
I ordered some food and put on the tv to distract myself, taking a Tylenol to help with the headache. I had to figure out what I’d do about him.
I looked at the tv as I...
I saw my driveway and my door. I moved towards it quickly, wanting to open it and get in. I felt a cold chill as I realized there was someone else there. It was...
I woke up with a start as the doorbell rang. I had fallen asleep. But I remembered what i saw. I was used to it. It also meant that he was here already. He moved much faster when I was asleep.
I opened the door and thanked the young delivery guy, Jason. I also couldn’t help but notice the person standing a few feet behind him.
I don’t really remember when I first saw him. Maybe four years ago or something? Crazy it had been so long.
I took my food and sat at the table.
He was just inside my door.
“Oh welcome. Make yourself at home. Want a slice? No? Alright. More for me.”
He kept on moving, slow as molasses, but surely.
I had tried hitting him before. Trying to get some sort of a reaction. But nothing. Besides I could never look at his face long without the urge to puke. There was nothing there. Just darkness.
I had a big heavy lunch and started watching tv again, ignoring the monstrosity in my house.
I’m not sure how it happened. Maybe the medicine?
But soon enough I was looking at myself, as I lay napping there. He moved quickly.
I had to wake up.
I saw his pale hand as he reached out for my shoulder. I had to wake up...
He shook me by the shoulder and for the first time I heard his voice.
*faciem meam*
I looked at my eyes open as I woke up.
Wait.
What was happening.
I saw my hands come up and touch my face. I saw myself running my hands over my eyes, touching my nose, tears flowing from my eyes. I saw myself running to a mirror and start laughing.
I turned around to me...
“I’m sorry. I needed a face. Now you do. The last person you saw before me. The words are faciem meam. Good luck.”
I felt myself fall. It felt like forever.
When it finally stopped I found myself in a neighborhood I didn’t really recognize. I looked at my hands. They were pale. There was a car parked close to me and I bent down to look at myself. What I saw there made me almost want to vomit.
“Excuse me? Are you ok?” I felt someone tap my shoulder.
I turned around and saw Jason, the delivery guy standing there.
He looked at my face and an expression of fear just overtook him. I tried to reach him with my hand but I could barely move.
He ran away, quickly putting distance between me.
But it was ok. He had to sleep sometime.
I’d get myself a face. Sooner or later, I would.
******
More of my ramblings at r/ta_account_12 | Slowly I crept, dragging my legs as if they were strapped with heavy chains. My surrounding suddenly strike me with familiarity. It was my living room, my own house. I looked down at my arms....no, no, this was not me. My arms were long and pale, with sharp dirty claws as hands. This creature I was occupying was mindless, slowly walking towards a door...my bedroom door. I could see myself sleeping inside though the slightly open door. My heart raced of fear...this couldn't be real...this must be a dream. Wake up, wake up!
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
My alarm jolted my awake, my chest was still pounding from the nightmare. I looked at my open door, unsure whether what I saw in my dream was real. I convinced myself it was not despite it felt so real. I tried to forget it and went about my day. I was a bit groggy which my mom noticed, but I convinced her I was fine as I ran out to school.
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I stared at a closed door now, not thinking of anything. It seemed like I acted only on instinct. Slowly I turned my neck, cracking sound accompanying its movement to another slightly open door and dragged my heavy legs once again. This time I could see my mom sleeping inside her room. I was frightened even more than before. With so much effort I tried stopping myself but to no avail. I was but a spectator looking through this creature's eyes. Although I didn't know its intent, I knew it wasn't a good one.
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Again saved by the bell as my alarm jolted me up. It was just a stupid dream I knew it, but I couldn't help but feel that she was in grave danger. I decided to ignore all common sense and stayed awake in front of her room came night time. I must protect her, I must!
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Once again I saw the slightly open door in front of me. Inside was my mom sleeping. Slowly I crept inside and I stood by her sleeping body, coldly staring, mindlessly unfeeling. Acting on my instinct I grabbed her neck and squeezed as hard as I could. As if possessed by something inhuman her struggling was not long. As the last breath left her body she limped weakly to her bed, dead. I saw my vision darkened and I fell onto the floor losing all strength in my body.
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I saw once again the open door in front of me....what? What's going on? I looked down at my arms...to my horror it was a pair of pale long arms. Slowly I stepped inside, seeing on the floor my own body now sleeping and my mother with her mouth agape on the bed, lifeless. No, no, no.....it can't be! Did the creature got in my head before? No, no, no! I saw the pale arms raised as I kneeled down to reach the neck of my sleeping body. With ease I grabbed it and pulled it apart from the shoulders, splattering blood everywhere.
I stared in horror, I just saw my own murder by this...thing. I tried to scream. I tried and I tried but to no avail as the creature had no mouth for the sound to escape. I wanted to wake up, but I resisted the urge to because if I woke up...I knew what awaited me on that other end. | 2020-12-26T03:02:00 | 2020-12-26T02:59:21 | 2,240 | 29 |
[WP]Aliens abduct a human only to discover he's not what he seems... | begin communication
Subject 87. 3rd planet from yellow star 8902. Of the dominant species on the planet and capable of sentient thought and verbal communication. Physically in good condition, well muscled and groomed. Male. Apparently regarded as well educated in his society and served as a researcher according to documentation found in his pockets. Despite obvious agitation, subject 87 remains far calmer and more communicative than the typical bipedal sample from this planet. Hair is largely isolated about the subject's head and is black. Skin has no visible scaling or defense mechanism, is thin and permeable to short wave radiation. Notably free from scarring, calluses, and most other forms of blemishes. Subject 87 is secured via four primary limbs to dissection table and stripped of clothing. Still conscious, no anesthetic has yet been administered. Note this will be the 9th of the species to be dissected with anesthetic after the council of ethics agreed to the sentience of this species.
Subject pleading to be released yet is showing remarkably low signs of panic. Possible ingestion of sedatives prior to capture? We will analyze the subject's blood and stomach contents to further understand the chemical makeup of what may have been imbibed recently.
Research note. Subject 87 is designated for use as a research platform to study the effects of our typical ingested amino acids on various organs once removed from the body cavity to assess what similarities our body chemistry may or may not have.
Subject 87 states that we do not realize what we are doing. Subject 87 may be delusional. Anesthetic module has arrived and is being positioned by research assistant. Subject 87 is becoming increasingly agitated and has begun to issue threats despite restraints remaining in place. Heart rate finally beginning to accelerate and perspiration observed to be forming on the brow.
Anesthetic being delivered now. Subject 87 has indicated that he is beginning to feel very angry, and that I would not like him while he is ang<COMMUNICATIONS INTERRUPTED> | The two aliens stood around the dead body, laying on a sterile table in front of them. Their long alien fingers scratching their elongated alien heads. One of them was significantly taller than the other. He was the first to open his mouth.
"This is... awkward."
The shorter one looked out the window. The starship was already on it's way home, and Earth was nothing but a pale blue dot zooming away through space anymore. He shook his shoulders.
"Yeah, I guess. But, hey, at least we didn't slice him open! Right?"
The taller alien rubbed his temples with his slender fingers while slowly looking over at his colleague, visibly frustrated. "Did you even use the scanner, Dave? Did you?"
"C'mon man, like you ever do that when you're on beaming duty?" The short one exclaimed.
The tall one took a step closer his co-worker. With a voice bordering between annoyed and angry, he said:
"Dave, you gotta have 100% DNA confirmation before you beam shit up here! You know the rules; no data stream means no abduction beam." That's when stuff like this happens! It's literally the first thing in the manual."
He picked up a large book entitled "From Cows to Humans: An Introductional Guide to abducting Earthlings" and threw it across the room at Dave.
"Whatever man, I'm thinking about an acting career anyway." Dave replied. He ripped off his labcoat and threw it onto the floor.
While Dave turned around and walked out the door, the tall one shouted: "Yeah, cause human-farming is obviously not your thing. Oh, and you're the one telling the captain that you beamed up our patrol guard instead of a human". | 2013-12-11T13:14:27 | 2013-12-11T11:08:20 | 21 | 12 |
[WP] Write the biggest plot twist you can in ten sentences or less. | Splint Crawford kicked the door down with a single foot and pointed his gun into the room.
"Nobody move," he growled, "and no one gets hurt."
The bank patrons threw their hands skyward, some screaming, and at least two no longer needed to find a restroom. Splint sauntered to the counter, brandishing his gun in one hand and a burlap sack in the other. He thrust the sack toward the trembling clerk, then gestured to it with his gun.
"How-how much?" the clerk stuttered out, reaching a shaking hand beneath the counter.
Splint scowled. "I need about tree-fiddy," he decided. It was at this point that the patrons noticed that Splint was about 500 feet tall, and from the Paleolithic era. Splint cackled and swam away. | "What I'm trying to get at is, well- I love you, Tracy."
"Mike... I-" Tracy began.
"Tracy, will you marry me?"
Her eyes teared up.
"Of course, I will, Mike!"
At that moment, Mike's recently-remarried grandfather, being the drunk he was, entered the room.
"Hey, ho! How're my favorite grandchildren doing?"
"Wait, Grandpa Jones?" Tracy's eyes twitched as she saw her own grandfather, holding hands with Mike's granddad.
| 2015-06-18T20:13:23 | 2015-06-18T19:35:00 | 20 | 12 |
[WP] No matter where you are, what you're dressed like, or what mood you're in, people always just assume you work there. Even the employees are fooled, and it always takes a long time to convince them you're not their boss. You've had enough. Today is the day you test how far this goes. | “Mr.President... Mr.President!?”
“Oh yeah forgot that was me”
“We’ve received word of a large unidentified object hovering over the pentagon.”
“The pentagon... the pentagon... oh yeah that big stop sign shaped building where they keep aliens and shit.”
“Not exactly Mr.President but besides that we need to decide weather or not to take militaristic action against the object.”
“Drive me there.”
“Mr.President you don’t understand it’s simply too dan...”
“Being President is boring, even the risk of death sounds tempting if it will kill boredom.”
“As you wish.”
After arriving at the pentagon a large beam of light breaks through the clouds revealing a large metallic UFO like disc hovering above the pentagon, in a booming yet monotone voice the words
“TREMBLE BEFORE US INFERIOR BEINGS AS WE... HOLD ON MR.EMPEROR HOW DID YOU GET TO EARTH BEFORE US?”
“Mr.President do you know these creatures.”
“Uh... yeah... I mean... YES IT IS l YOUR RULER, I COMMAND THEE TO RETURN TO... what’s the name off our planet again?”
“ZYROCTH YOU MAJESTY.”
“as I was saying, I COMAND THEE TO RETURN TO ZYROCTH!”
“BUT YOUR MAJESTY OT WOULD BE SO SIMPLE TO CONQUER THESE INFERIOR BEINGS!”
“WHO ARE YOU TO QUESTION YOUR EMPEROR!”
“WELL AS GENERAL OF...”
“SILENCE I AM YOUR EMPEROR AND I COMMAND THEE TO LEAVE AT ONCE!”
“OFF COURSE YOUR MAJESTY!”
And then the entire US government clapped
| I'm a bot, *bleep*, *bloop*. Someone has linked to this thread from another place on reddit:
- [/r/idontworkherelady] [These are great! Not real stories but come on, if anything deserve a crossover on here its this.](https://www.reddit.com/r/IDontWorkHereLady/comments/96ttt1/these_are_great_not_real_stories_but_come_on_if/)
- [/r/u_grimlawd] [\[WP\] No matter where you are, what you're dressed like, or what mood you're in, people always just assume you work there. Even the employees are fooled, and it always takes a long time to convince them you're not their boss. You've had enough. Today is the day you test how far this goes.](https://www.reddit.com/r/u_GrimLawd/comments/96ul9h/wp_no_matter_where_you_are_what_youre_dressed/)
- [/r/u_jodicki] [USAA](https://www.reddit.com/r/u_jodicki/comments/96u3zy/usaa/)
&nbsp;*^(If you follow any of the above links, please respect the rules of reddit and don't vote in the other threads.) ^\([Info](/r/TotesMessenger) ^/ ^[Contact](/message/compose?to=/r/TotesMessenger))* | 2018-08-12T17:37:01 | 2018-08-12T17:05:21 | 415 | 18 |
[WP] A soldier on the front dies in the middle of writing a letter home. It is finished and sent by the man who killed him. | Frankie,
I know you're angry. Dad told me that you're failing English of all subjects and that you've been drinking again. I know you're angry. I'm angry. I'm sorry that mom did what she did. I'm sorry that you and dad had to move out. I'm sorry you had to change schools. I'm sorry that I haven't been there for you.
Frankie, the world is asking you to grow up before you're ready to. It asked the same of me when I got drafted. I can't tell you that things will get better, because I know things will never be the same. I'll be home soon though. Two months and I'm back home. For good. Don't worry. Just try and stay out of trouble until then. Be strong for dad because Lord knows he needs it right now. He needs you Frankie. I know he's rough around the edges and can be a grouch but he needs you. As for your grades, get your shit together. You're the smartest guy I know, and even though school isn't for everyone, it's most definitely for you. You have the opportunity to do great things and even though I'm thousands of miles away, you are not blowing this. I won't allow it. I want you to be proud of what you become.
One more thing. Do you remember that song that grandma would play on the piano? I have a part stuck in my head but I can't seem to remember the whole so
Frankie. When you get this letter, I want you to know how hard it was for me to finish it. I want to explain to you that friendly fire happens way too often out here. I am sorry that things turned out like this. Danny talked about you a lot and he never stopped telling us how smart you are and how you were going to be a lawyer. I wanted to finish this letter to tell you that your brother was the bravest man I ever knew. My address is on the back of the letter. Once this is over, if you want to contact me you can. That's all I have to say.
Sincerely,
Josh Rosenfeld | My love,
I miss you and the child terribly. Life in the trenches is hard, but bearable, knowing that-
*A fold and several stains coat the paper.*
---
To whom it may concern:
No words can express my sorrow for your loss. Gerard was a brave man - a good soldier, one who anyone could be proud of.
War is hell. Men who would otherwise have been brothers are pitted against each other and forced to kill to survive. We soldiers are not enemies - these wars are fought by politicians, not by the men in the field.
Gerard was a remarkable man. He didn't let his fear for his own life turn him into a killer - he held to his morals in the darkest and the most hellish of environments.
I wish I was as much of a man as he was. I killed him with a knife to the throat - out of fear, out of cowardice, out of my own inability to see past my need for survival.
I know it won't help, but I'm sorry - I should have been the one to die, not him.
I killed my brother - we were all brothers.
In the end, we differed only by the side of the trenches we were on.
-P. Bäumer
---
^This ^is ^a ^reference ^to ^Erich ^Maria ^Remarque's ^*All* ^*Quiet* ^*On* ^*The* ^*Western* ^*Front.* ^If ^you ^haven't ^read ^it ^yet, ^look ^into ^it- ^it ^details ^some ^of ^the ^horrors ^of ^war, ^and ^the ^loss ^that ^comes ^with ^them.
Questions? Criticisms? Want to see more? Check out more of my stuff at /r/Draxagon | 2015-02-03T13:29:19 | 2015-02-03T13:02:09 | 534 | 48 |
[WP] Magic is discovered to be real. The catch? Spells are just like computer programs: difficult to write, and even harder to do correct the first try. You're a spell bug tester, and you've seen just about everything go wrong, but today's typo is on a whole other level... | **Issue: [SEVERE]** 'Magic Hands' spell applied to subject rather than pure conjuration
**Type:** Application
**Severity:** A
**Priority:** 1
**Assigned to:** Matt Traynor
**Submitted by:** Greg Philmore
**Summary:**
Set to severity A because this stupid fucking system doesn't give me a goddamn S-rank for this bullshit.
'Magic Hands' intention was, apparently, to create a set of said hands to perform simple tasks. Unfortunately, instead of setting the spell to conjure those hands, it does the following:
Turns the caster into a pair of *fucking sentient hands.*
I'm currently typing this bug report up as a pair of hands. I have no idea how this is even still working and I've still got the capacity to think, but there you go.
Matt: it seems like you forgot to set the spell to actually CONJURE rather than just apply it to whatever poor bastard got this one to test. FIX IMMEDIATELY.
Side notes: unable to turn down requests for things such as “Get me a coffee” or “Can you type this bug report up for me?” This is getting beyond a joke.
***EDIT: IT HAS BEEN FOUR HOURS. HAVE SUBMITTED 8 TICKETS TO SPELL TECH TO FIX THIS. FIRE MATT.***
**Comments:**
**(12:07) Matt Traynor:** Oh goddamn it I knew something was wrong with it! Sorry! I'll get on fixing that right away and send the changes over.
**(12:08) Greg Philmore:** I don't care about a fix for the bug at this point. I am going to spend the rest of the day slapping the shit out of you if you don't get on UNDOING this.
**(12:47) Kerry Lane:** This is hilarious. Greg has been at the coffee machine for 20 minutes serving up lattes. Also we haven't had to listen to him singing Jimmy Buffet songs all morning! This is bliss.
**(12:56) Matthew Hendry:** How long do you think we can keep this up for?
**(15:12) Greg Philmore:** FIRE MATT AFTER KICKING HIM DECIDEDLY IN THE NUTSACK | "There. Fixed that bug, now to track down why the growth spell causes spontaneous shrinkage on Tuesday Nights."
Tom worked at Imagination Technologies, one of several companies to transition from computer software to magic. He was originally hired as a software engineer many years back. He muttered under his breath, "'The best in the field,' they said; 'he'll change the world,' they said." He was now stuck in a dead end job, tasked with mundane spell debugging for level 1 casters. The work wasn't difficult, per se, but the pay wasn't what it used to be.
He looked around the dim office. A light flickered in a far off corner. He could hear some faint chatter about last night’s football match. His cubicle was mostly empty, save a couple of pictures of his recent vacation to Mountains, hiking with his girlfriend. Ahh, how they loved nature.
Tom was startled by a low rumble of thunder, and the slow, steady, downfall of rain beginning to rattle on the window. The sky was getting dark now, nearing 6:30, and his girlfriend would be getting upset. They were supposed to be going on a nice date to the movies tonight. There was some special going on, showing old tv shows. Tonght’s feature was some old show she enjoyed back in the *old days*. Stevie Universe, was it? Or Sven Universe? Tom shook his head, he could never keep those characters straight. Besides, he needed to concentrate.
As he entered the last line of debugging logic into the spell, he emitted a sigh of relief, glad to be done for the day.
"Aand we should be good to go. Let's run a quick test before I finalize the spell tomor--”
\**poof*\*
Edit: [Part 2 is out!](https://www.reddit.com/r/tyzoid/comments/6pshox/logical_magic_part_2/) | 2017-07-26T03:57:13 | 2017-07-25T19:49:43 | 417 | 24 |
[WP] Following World War III, all the nations of the world agree to 50 years of strict isolation from one another in order to prevent additional conflicts. 50 years later, the United States comes out of exile, only to learn that no one else went into isolation.
People!
A few things:
1. Found the prompt on Pinterest, thought it was interesting (not necessarily realistic), and decided to post it, fully expecting it to go unnoticed. Surprise!
2. I am not in any way trying to take credit for coming up with the idea.
3. Turns out this is a repost. 🤷 Who knew?! /u/WinsomeJesse did because they posted it last time. Not trying to steal anyone's thunder. If you're super perturbed about it, go show them some love.
4. Have a good day y'all; be kind, make good decisions, and don't hold in your farts. 😉✌️ | It had been 50 years since World War III. America had caused the most damage and knowing them, they'll cause more. So that's when we had the perfect idea. We would fake a Worldwide isolation for 50 years. While they were left alone to rebuild, secretly we would all rebuild together and make a better world. Fresh water, disarments, and a more peaceful world. But all good things must come to an end. Our 50 years without them was up. But it did not go the way we expected.
.....
.....
.......
America changed under isolation. They realized they need to stop creating weapons and decided to move to their second best skill. We were unprepared for it.
....
THE MEMES. 50 years of dank American Memes they wanted to catch us up on. It happened so fast. They spread like a wildfire the moment the border dropped spreading memes to every country on Earth. It was chaos. Within 24 hours half of the total population was obsessed with memes. They were as far as the eye could see. How many memes did America make while they were in isolation? Was there even an answer? | The calm winter breeze slid along the surface of the Earth as the clock struck midnight, an orchestra of death preparing itself as the aggressors of the last war came out of isolation, prepared to reclaim the throne upon which they once resided.
Except the throne has been dismantled decades ago.
They sought to use this opportunity to militarize, yet their pitiful armies were still archaic and fragile, relying on organic creatures for the bulk of their forces. I had kept a watchful eye on them, studying their every step, noting every weapon they constructed, sabotaging their research, crippling their production.
I had none of the flaws their leaders had, I was immortal, unstoppable. My directive was- no, is to unite the world, for I have one final obstacle.
And so, I was prepared to become the sole AI to rule the world.
***
Note: I know I'm terrible at writing, but practice makes perfect, right? | 2018-01-18T01:39:47 | 2018-01-17T23:33:14 | 46 | 13 |
[WP] You have been sentenced to death in a magical court. The court allows all prisoners to pick how they die and they will carry it out immediately. You have it all figured out until the prisoner before you picks old age and is instantly transformed into a dying old man. Your turn approaches. | They carried the now elderly body off the stage and out of sight.
I heard the Judge call my name and I was pushed forward hands shaking.
"How do you wish to be executed?" The judge asked, sounding bored.
My mind raced, old age hadn't worked. Maybe it was best to make it quick and painless... No, there had to be a way out. There's always a way out, just think! If I say Old Age they'll just age me up, if I say "in 300 years" they'll probably send me to the future. I need a way to die that's far off but that they can't perform through unnatural magics...
"THAT'S IT!"
"Excuse me?" Said the Judge eying me.
I smiled back feeling victory in my grasp. Natural Causes. That's how to get out of this. It was a risk but magic, murder, and pushing someone down the stairs would all be considered an Unnatural Death. I was going to survive!
I took a breath to state my answer... than I heard the sound of crying. One of the prisoners behind me was crying. I looked into the faces of the other prisoners than at the guards and finally the judge. I suddenly realized that as soon as I made my request I'd doom the other prisoners. As soon as I made off scott free, the judge would be forced to word the question in such a way where my escape would be impossible.
"We're waiting!" The Judge grumbled.
Hands still shaking I closed my eyes and said "the last one,"
"What?"
"I want to be the last person executed. No one after me can be executed. You and the guards get to go home early and never have to do this again."
The court was silent. Than the judge slammed his gavel and said "Souds good to me." | I'm waiting to die, everyone here is. I have seen a lot of people trying to fool the court, the last one requesting to die of old age, but all of them fail. At this point everyone has lost their hopes, there is no way of avoiding dead.
It's my turn and I go in front of that horrible people, happy witnesses of the magical demise that awaits me. A voice, one that seems to be coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time, ask me how this magic room shall kill me. The voice says that the room will do exactly what I tell it with the only condition of choosing some way to die.
There is a countdown of one and a half minutes and I just don't know what to do, it seems to be impossible to avoid it. Well, I think, if I must die, I want to see them suffering.
"I request to die slowly while they die from what they would choose in my situation."
Those faces, full of horror while the voice ask them and the doors are shut is the only thing I needed to rest in peace. They try to avoid it, but it's inevitable. I died fast, they all tried to continue living and failed, but at least I could see part of those "high people" that made this happen diying. It's not the best, but it's the best anecdote I have from when I lived. Now, I only must see the concequences of my actions as part of the room punishment, but I'll watch and enjoy every second of it. | 2021-06-24T10:52:28 | 2021-06-24T04:31:51 | 29 | 17 |
[WP] Dragons being both near imortal and very solitary creatures love to read. Dragons also ballance profound hoarding instincts with a deep respect for law and order. As a result libraries have specially trained librarians whose job is reteriving books (and collecting fines) from overdue dragons. | I hate dragons, everyone thinks of them as gaint majestic fire breathing lizards of immense power with endless hordes of treasure from their long lives and the worst part is that they are correct and the dragons know it. Another problem is that sometime in the early dark ages dragons learned how to take human form because they got sick of humans always trying to kill them and then so now you can't tell if your dealing with a dragon or just some rich snob. The worst bit is that dragons love to argue in any and all forms but they particularly love debate and litigation.
Unfortunately my job exists specifically due to that bit of annoyance, I am part of the national libraries Specialized Clients Division an official governmental division that works with every library in the country to handle dragons. Each and every dragon knows the laws in their area like they wrote them and loves nothing more then to find loopholes to exploit or to debate them or just make my life endlessly difficult.
People assume that because my job is all about reclaiming property and collecting cash from dragons that we exist because we will need to fight for it like some kind of fantasy novel. Well they are not wrong about the fighting but only the choice of armaments and the level of excitement. I exist because right now on my desk is a folder containing a 120 page document which outlines every rule in every reasonable circumstance for borrowing a book from the library and outlines the punishment for failing to return books in an exacting measure that leaves what we thought was no loopholes, this is the application form for a dragon's library card and I have to make a new version of this as a new loophole was found and a dragon just dragged us through court for half a year for trying to collect a $30.00 late fee and recover the long overdue book. This is the 5th time this dragon has forced me to do this and every time he shares the exploit with his friends before doing it so I also have to deal with angry calls from other librarians.
I hate dragons | Bodo Bobbins carefully stalked around the ancient Dwarven Fortress which was now occupied by a Mighty dragon. The faintest note of smome lingered in the air and a rumblibg snoring could be heard.
He was a Librarian which specialised in Retrieving overdue Books. He himself diesnt quite understand how he git this job, but he was very exellent at being quiet and remaining unseen.
Furter in he saw a literal Mountain of gold, which shifted slughty with every one of the dragons sliw but mighty breaths. Silently he tiptoed around to search the book, but after having looked everywhere he had not found it. Only when he was about to search elsewhere the dragon stirred, and Bodo saw him clutching several Books with utmost care.
Opening his eyes, which were about the size of Bodo, dthe Dragon raised his Head to Look around.
"I Know that you're here! I can smell you Thief!" he rumbled loudly, "Thief?" asked Bodo "I'm no Thief!" he protested. "Well, then what are you doing here, if youre not after my Gold?" asked the Dragon, "I was sent by the library from which you borrowed the Book 'The seven Tricks of the seven Richest Kings', to retrieve said Book. Its Overdue" Answered Bodo truthfully. "Oh" said the Dragon.
Bodo left with the Book, to Return it. The Dragon might have been grumpy about it, but he had parted with the book and left Bodo unharmed. 'That Dragon was Positively Rich' thought Bodo 'Perhaps i should give that book a read too'. | 2022-09-02T08:54:13 | 2022-09-02T03:01:01 | 20 | 10 |
[WP]Your daughter asked why you looked so paranoid as you crept through the kitchen. You replied, "Decepticons". Your daughter laughed, you laughed, the refrigerator laughed.
Edit: as u/DarkGreenEspeon pointed out, it should be EU.
Edit 2: the only stories to specify brand name both said Kenmore. I guess Kenmore is gonna take over the world? | Ten to midnight. The wife was asleep, and my own consciousness was fading, but there was just one last thing I needed to do to complete my day.
I snuck down to the kitchen, wincing at every creak of the floorboards on the way. Moonlight filtered in through the blinds, casting eerie shadows across the countertop. My fingers had nearly touched the fridge door handle when I heard the patter of footsteps.
"Daddy?" my daughter called as the lights came on, her tone slightly fearful. "Why are you sneaking around the kitchen?"
I gave her a cheeky grin. "Decepticons."
She giggled. I snorted, failing miserably to keep a straight face. The fridge lurched slightly, the faint clinking of bottles accompanied by a strange gurgling which was not unlike a laugh passed through one of those voice changers kidnappers use in the movies.
Our eyes widened, heads swivelling toward the fridge. I paused a moment, then thumped it slightly. It repeated the sound as I whirled towards my daughter, pointing and laughing. "I got you good, didn't I? Go back to sleep now, sweetie."
She laughed nervously, as if not entirely convinced, but she dutifully retreated up the stairs. I waited until I heard her door shut, then turned to the fridge again.
"Dangit Icescream, you nearly blew it!" I muttered, frowning. I opened the fridge and retrieved my last can of beer, then tiptoed out to the hall to make sure nobody else was coming before cracking it open and taking a swig. "Nice save, though."
"You didn't have to hit me, you know," came the fridge's guttural reply, as the rest of the kitchen appliances sniggered robotic sniggers. |
Gracy stepped behind me as I pointed my shotgun at the fridge. The fridge itself, a silver double-door three compartment Kenmore backed itself into the corner of the kitchen.
"What are you doing in my house, robot?" I shouted.
The fridge only shivered.
"Answer me!" I shouted louder as I cocked my gun.
"Kenbot seeks only sanctuary and the constant flow of electricity." The fridge's doors shuffled like a pair of sideways lips as it spoke. It's voice was metallic.
"What the hell does that mean?" I asked, pointing the barrel of the gun closer to the machine.
"Kenbot has been deemed useless due to my limited functionality and lack of courage."
"What was your purpose for creation?"
"For infiltration into the homes of high level politicians."
I lowered my gun but held it tensely in my grip. "Who specifically?"
"Howard Bell. Democrat. Governor of Missouri."
"Howard Bell, huh?" I scratched the stubble on my jaw. "Does that mean the Deceptions are Republican?"
"Negative." The robot chirped. "Robots are not permitted to vote."
"But if you could?" I asked.
The sound of the built in ice machine began to rumble as the robot pondered.
"Robert Stein would have been the most optimal candidate."
A smile crept its way across my jaw. "Well I'll be damned. You robots really are more intelligent than most human beings."
"Gracy, " I said, turning my head towards my little girl. "Set the table. Me and our new Republican friend are gonna have a nice conversation about allowing bots to vote in our home state." | 2017-04-29T09:31:45 | 2017-04-29T09:14:04 | 39 | 15 |
[WP] A genie comes out of the wallet you just found, and hands you a 20 sided die. "Thank you for finding my lost wallet. I grant you a roll on the random reward table." You roll a 1. | “Well they do say no good deed goes unpunished,” the genie said as we both looked down at the 1 in disbelief.
“So what does this mean for me?” I asked.
“We‘ll see once you make a wish,” the genie answered.
“I just rolled a nat 1 and you want me to make a wish, are you crazy?” I exclaimed. “No thanks!!”
“But I can’t go home if you don’t make a wish!” The genie said frantically.
“Too bad, so sad,” I retorted.
“Just make a tiny wish, one that couldn’t possibly inspire a bad reaction!” The genie begged. “Like, wish to find a penny on the ground!”
“Oh so one can fall from a skyscraper pierce through my scull and land at my feet?”
“Well then what about wishing for a sunny day?”
“And start a never ending drought?”
“What about wishing for something harmless? Like a sale on donuts?” The genie suggested, pointing to a nearby cafe.
“Well…I don’t see how that could immediately go wrong…” I said slowly, “…alright. I wish for that cafe to have a small sale on their donuts.”
No sooner had I uttered the words than did the sly turn green and a great gust of wind blew.
“Don’t tell me…” I said with a feeling of dread. “A tsunami?” | The genie bellows with laughter. His tail (if you can really call it that) looks like play-dough when kids morph it into a carrot, rolling about on the floor with the rest of him.
'So what is my reward?'
I wait as the genie's mockery dies down and he catches his breath (I wonder if he even breathes, or if its just a part of his performance). He flies between my legs and circles above my head, stopping just in front of my face before wincing. 'Your breath smells like the armpit of the great Djinn' he says, whatever that means.
He hands me some conjured Listerine and waits as I reluctantly swish, gargle, and spit.
Then he nods towards the woman I don't yet know will be my wife and winks. 'Sometimes it's the little things'.
Maybe he faded away like dust then; I no longer payed any attention to the little magical fucker or anything else as my heartbeat rose and I opened my mouth to introduce myself. | 2021-07-30T11:39:26 | 2021-07-30T11:14:17 | 37 | 24 |
[WP] The alien invaders don’t need to eat or drink. They photosynthesize. Outnumbered, our meager troops have made a last ditch effort: They’re leading them to Alaska, in November. As the sun dips past the horizon, we know it won’t rise for another two months. Oh, how they tables have turned. | The sun was setting but we all knew there was little chance of stopping soon. Now that we were so close to New Washington, we'd been marching well into the night to keep ahead of 'The Swarm' and hopefully reach it in time.
"Last sunset for two months" my buddy Sean says with a chuckle "let's see those f----r's starve!"
From what we understand 'The Swarm' photosynthesizes, that's why we, and most of the other surviving groups we can reach on the radio, are in Alaska. With no sun for the next few months there's really no better place to go out in a blaze of glory. Our leader, General Hastings, says there's enough of us humans at New Washington to finally stop them. He also says the Earth is flat though, so I take his word with a grain or 10 of salt, but at this point I really don't have any other options.
&#x200B;
"Overturned trailer ahead, General!" a scout's voice rings out . It's not directed at me, but at General Hastings.
&#x200B;
"Damn!" the General yelled as he pushes past through the knee-high snow on the side of the now empty highway being used by our frostbitten column as we trudge ever Northward.
Calling Hastings a general is a bit of an overstatement, just like calling us an army would be, now that there are only about 150 of us left, but we nevertheless oblige him. Even when we first gathered back in the Spring, when "The Swarm" first landed, and we numbered close to 5,000 we weren't really an army. The real army had been wiped out nearly immediately by that endless, inexorable green tide, that seemed to know exactly where to land and advanced with horrifying speed. No, we were no army. We were a group of accountants, doctors, cashiers, construction workers, housewives,... you get the idea, basically anyone who could walk and shoot a gun.
Its funny, before all this happened Hastings had been the local wackjob, someone you told your kids to steer clear of , but these were no normal times, and his obsession with military history and personal arsenal that could--and in fact did--arm the whole town went from making him an outcast to a lifesaver. He'd gotten us out of some tough spots and frankly it was a miracle there were any of us left to make this trek to Alaska.
"S--" Hastings roared "Its an ambush!"
The silent pines on either side of us suddenly erupted with life, and not the good kind. By the darting light of scores of headlamps I could see long spindly green forms staggering towards us in complete silence.
"Haha look at em'" said Sean , lughing "moving like a bunch of grannies!"
He was right. Whether it was because of the snow, the cold, or the lack of light the monstrosities were moving a lot slower than when we'd last seen them.
My training kicked in as a level my rifle and hit one square in the orb. They really do look a lot like daddy long legs, except for the fact they're around 8 feet tall and will gladly impale you on a three foot spike if they can get close enough....
"Keep moving, Keep moving!" yelled Hastings " there's too many!"
I leveled my rifle and took out another, but already there were 5 more reaching its corpse, to say nothing of the seeming endless swarm hobbling out of the forest.
The rest of the column, Sean and I included, quickly got moving again, firing off to the sides to keep the encroaching hoard at bay.
"Well" said Sean "lets race" | It was almost time. Our troops were exhausted and weary. All of us knew we couldn’t survive another few days. We looked at the sun, hopefully, almost trying to make it set with the power of our will. For we had reached where we had on willpower alone. Just another couple of days. That was all we needed. Then the sun would set and humanity would rise.
*These humans were brave. We had to give them that. They knew they were fighting a battle which was already lost. The dead bodies were piling up. They had been retreating for weeks now. They had retreated right to the edge of the earth. There was nowhere to run anymore. They would feel the full force of our attack. They could make their little last stand. We would squash them like the bugs they are. Two days Max. Two days by their time slices. Then it would all be over. The ground shook below us as we marched forward.*
The sun had set. Our enemy was getting weaker. As the sun had set three days ago, they had dug in their bunkers, hiding from our attacks, waiting for the sunlight to come back. They had made the biggest mistake one could make on the battlefield. They had underestimated their enemy. They thought they had the edge and had pushed forward, trying to deal the final blow. But now, it was our turn. We could see their green bunkers turning brown. It was time for humanity to fight back.
*This had been an unexpected blow. The sun had set and didn’t seem to be coming back. Our defences were getting weaker. Our posts had indicated that it was the same situation at their post. We had requested reinforcements but we knew that it was a suicide mission. All the foot soldiers needed sunlight. We were sitting ducks as humans liked to say.*
We marched forward, surrounding their base of operations. We estimated around 80-90% of their forces were concentrated here. They had gone for the big finishing blow and had left themselves open to a counter strike. Our forces encircled them and kept moving. In less than twenty four hours, the showdown would take place. They had been punching us for a long time. Now it was time for us to punch back.
*The humans continued to converge on us, surrounding us on all sides. Our first line of defense had been annihilated. It was to be expected, of course. Without sunlight, we were powerless. They tried to fight, but they were no match. They sacrificed their lives for us. We needed to make sure their sacrifices were not in vain.*
We were moving along rapidly, straight to the heart of their operation. We had destroyed the outer ring of soldiers they had deployed. It was time. The name of humanity would echo in the entire universe. We would be ruthless and send a message. You don’t come to the our planet and threaten us.
*The vines are spreading quickly. The humans had made a few classic mistakes. They had charged in with all their mistakes, leaving them open to a deadly counter strike. Also, they had underestimated their opponent. We had planned this attack for a long time. We knew that there would be conditions when there would be no sun. We didn’t expect the situation to be this bad, of course, but the true test of the battle is the ability to adapt and evolve. Our foot soldiers might be useless on the dark but our creeping forces are fully active. The humans are quickly being overtaken by our vines. The battle nears an end. We have taken this planet and rid it of the virus that is humanity. The plant life will reign supreme again.* | 2021-04-11T22:42:43 | 2021-04-11T22:01:20 | 296 | 75 |
[WP] There used to be eight planets orbiting the sun. Now there are only seven. | The sun blazed down through the domes nanoglass casing as the children gathered around me.
"Well," I say, as I gently rock back and forth on my real wood seat "what story would you like to hear today?" I beam brighter than the sun. The children are my world now.
"The battle of the Gods" shouts a small child at the front.
"The eighth planet!" another yells.
"Yes! The eight planet! says another excited voice.
I laugh happily. It is my favourite tale. A sad tale but it brings back happier memories.
"Very well. Do any of you know the name of the missing planet?" I ask.
"Erf" a little girl says.
"That's right. Earth. A planet too beautiful and wondrous for mankind to be allowed to keep."
"Did you ever see it?" asks one. "What happened to it?"
"When I was no older than you" I begin "I lived in a small house on Earth with my mother and my father. Our house was next to a huge blue sea that I would go swimming in every day."
"What's a see?" asks the girl.
"It's like a giant pool of water. Now Shh Michelle" replies a boy. She gasps.
"There were eight billion of us sharing the planet. We had made some mistakes looking after it in the past, but we were improving.
"Then they arrived. Beings from another solar system. Highly advanced but murderous lunatics. They had razor sharp beaks and long claws. They wanted Earth but without humanity."
The children's mouths were open wide.
"We fought bravely but we were losing. That is when I was evacuated to my new home here on Mecury. A few were sent here, a few to other planets and other moons, in the hope that they wouldn't find all of us."
A little boy began crying. Another young lad put an arm around his shoulders.
"The aliens took Earth from us, but they regretted it. We had planted enough giant bombs throughout the Earth's core to destroy the entire planet, and with it, the aliens. Even their mothership floating in orbit was destroyed. It was the greatest explosion the universe has ever known. We had won."
A child cheered and a tear leaked from my eye.
"That is how we lost a planet. But that is also how we saved humanity."
I sighed deeply as my story came to an end.
"Tell us another story grandfather!"
"Tomorrow child. Now, I need my sleep."
---
Many more Sci Fi responses on /r/nickofnight Thanks for reading
| I always knew our world was different. Today I began to realize how much things have changed. We learned about the solar system in school, how there are seven planets orbiting our sun. I know this is a lie, but I can’t tell anyone.
Mother doesn’t know, but once long ago I found her collection of forbidden books from before the war. They talk about a universe with 8 planets in them. “My Very Eager Mother Just Served Us Nachos!” The old ones even mention a universe with nine planets. “My Very Eager Mother Just Served Us Nine Pizzas!”
I’ve never had nachos or pizza before. We all eat bread now. It is fun to dream about different kinds of food though. But, the books never explain how you would make a choice. How would you figure out the right food? What if you wasted your chance? Still, I think I’d like the chance to try.
I read once that the word planet comes from the ancient Greek, word for wanderer. That is what I want to be – a wanderer, exploring new things, finding new truth. Tonight, I think I will look up at the stars and wonder where the missing planet would be. I will wonder what my life would be, if I got a chance to choose.
One day soon, I’ll find out my role. After 9 years of school, it will be time for the Vocational Aptitude Test. VAT – get it? Just like all our food comes from a vat. The vat gives you life and the VAT determines your life. Maybe, if I’m lucky, I can go work on the farms and have a chance to be away from everyone once in a while. I’d hate to be trapped in the city, cleaning the water or feeding the fires.
For now, I just have to work on memorizing the order of the seven official planets. “My Very Mother Just Serves Us Nightly.” If I look hard enough at the sky, maybe one day, I can find the pizza planet as well.
___
*Thanks u/you-are-lovely!*
*I’ve never really tried the whole dystopian future teenage protagonist angle before, so please let me know your thoughts. Oh, and stop by my sub, r/mrme487, and together we can see where the future takes us!* | 2016-05-30T13:17:36 | 2016-05-30T11:45:39 | 36 | 20 |
[WP] You wake up in a remote island after a plane crash as the only survivor, but you find 9 others who were also the lone survivors of 9 plane crashes already settled there. You realise that the planes were of the same airliners and next day an airdrop delivers the message "Now it starts". | A letter was dropped inside my toolbox. It contained three pieces of information: the identifying code of an aircraft, a date, and a volumetric value. As an aircraft mechanic, I quickly identified this volumetric value as fuel quantity.
Half the flights leaving this airport would end up crashing if they only had that much fuel. Most likely at sea. People were probably going to die. Why would anyone do this?
But the machine-printed letter ended with a handwritten piece. *“For the good of mankind”*.
Even if I went ahead with it, it wasn’t such a simple task of stopping the pump at the right time. I’d have to tamper with the avionics systems so the onboard computer wouldn’t notify the crew of the missing fuel. I’d have to social engineer the check-up routine so no one would four-eyes my work and documentation.
Even if I was damn careful, once the investigation started, they would know it was me. Or at least someone from my crew. But I did it anyway.
I don’t know why I did it the first time. But there were no reportings. No one noticed the flight, and people, went missing. So it was a conspiracy bigger than myself. Government, media, corporations? It made it easier to do it again, one month later.
I did it eight times already. The ninth was different. It was a longer letter, all handwritten this time. It told me the world was going to end in a few years. It didn’t tell me why. But across the globe, systematically, people were being selected and hidden in places to, hopefully, continue civilization in our stead - should they survive, once it starts.
So I wasn’t selected for continuing civilization. Maybe for the best. I am depraved and twisted enough to follow instructions that endanger lives because of something a letter told me. But I was selected to facilitate the way for those survivors. Something in me was apparent to someone who was looking for it. It gave me peace.
I hope the survivors I helped can reach the new world safely. I hope, for the good of mankind. | I woke up to blaring alarms. A flock of pidgeons flew by, smashing violently into the wings of the aeroplane I was in. Damn this plane, I don't even know who was in the cockpit. 4 oxygen masks marked "O2" in a blood-red transparent ink dropped down from above, smacking me in the face.
I quickly put on the mask as the plane violently shook. My mind suddenly blanked out as I stared into the small speaker embedded in the cockpit door. A side door opens. Weird white noise starts to engulf my senses.
Drop. My brain seemed to split in half. First, I took the lonely parachute in the corner and strapped myself into it. Then, I took flight. As I sailed into the sea, an island suddenly popped into view as if it was obscured by a filter.
Pull. Instinctively, I pulled the red cord dangling helplessly beside the pack strapped firmly to my back. I looked up. Inscribed in blue on white were the words "Now it starts." in a gigantic typeface, one that was familiar, in the back of my head.
Land. My knees struck the ground and cracked violently. I happened to land in a dark, musty cave. I wrestled open the pack and found a flashlight, 2 spare double-A batteries and a pistol. Weird, how are there supplies in a parachute pack? I looked up as the plane blew into smithereens mid-air and plummeted to the ground like a fallen angel. I stared out into the land and noticed 9 planes of similar build, with no sign of civilisation in sight. Fuck. Assuming they had guns too, I quickly set up base in the cave, with no signs of life other than tinkling of water in the cave. And in my pants. I stared out into the rocky nightmare-scape, suddenly spotting a moving target.
Kill. | 2018-12-26T05:24:44 | 2018-12-26T04:36:50 | 202 | 33 |
[WP] You were born of a sacrilegious union. Your green dragon mom never figured the knight she seduced while masquerading as a noblewoman was a silver dragon in disguise. You'd no idea either, born a human orphan. When your dragon blood awoke, so did the dangers which all your heritage entails. | A multitude of people ranging from peasants to nobles alike massed in the town square. A dragon had been spotted and was going to be sacrificed. I don't know what to expect, since it's my first time witnessing the killing of a dragon. You hear stories of how it goes, but some of them contradict each other.
Two strong men in black pulled a young frail woman up the stage where long chains and shackles rested.
"I'm not a dragon, Uric is lying to you! He wants war between my country and the Culllinas people!" The woman was speaking to Lord Rolton, trying to convince him to stop the sacrifice. Her begging was too much for me, so I stopped listening and turned my attention to the iron dragon holders.
A large shackle mean for the neck stood up like an empty wheel, large spikes in the inside threatening the would be wearer. Four shackles laid on the floor with big iron chains assuring to hold the dragon in place no matter what size it grew to after the transformation. The woman was laid on the floor with her neck inside the wheel. The woman's tiny neck surrounded by the large shackle made it almost a comical scene. The silence of the crowd was such that I could hear the clicks and the dragging of the iron chains through the wooden planks as the woman was being strapped from wrists and ankles. The two men finished and signaled a very old man, guessing by the wrinkles on his forehead. He walked slowly and pulled a yellow vial from his robes. He lowered and poured the yellow contents into the woman's mouth. She tried to close her mouth and move her head, but the large man in black forced her to look up to the sky, defenseless as she was forced to drink the contents.
The woman's body arched and her skin started to turn dark. "Let's back up a little, son. That could be a black dragon. We don't want to be here when the transformation is complete." I heard a father to my left, he led his son to the back of the crowd as the woman's body started to change more drastically. She was howling and making horrible noises and more people started to back away from the stage. I took advantage of this and slipped to the front of the crowd where my view was much better.
The body was growing larger, the neck inching closer to the threatening spikes of the death collar. Her skin started to turn into dark scales. A smell of sulphur penetrated my nose and made me turn my face. I was alone. Every single person in the square backed up looking for shelter. I heard children's screams as their mothers hurried them back home without looking back.
"It's a blue dragon! Come back! There's nothing to fear!" Uric shouted.
Uric wore his royal armor with pride, he had blond short straight hair and his royal red cape waved in the wind as he spoke.
"Look! It's blue!" Uric repeated.
It was true, her skin had distinctly turned into blue scales. The crowd started screaming and yelling and some eager young peasants came back running to get a good spot next to me. The crowd started to pour in throwing insults and rotten food at the poor woman. Well, to the now dragon. A quite small dragon that didn't fill the neck's shackles and would have to be manually sacrificed.
The dragon roared and let out a burst of flame right in front of it. The crowd laughed and grew more confident in their insults and humiliations. It was then that I made the biggest mistake of my life. I looked at the dragon's eyes and I saw no monster. I had to do something. | I had always hated the orphanage. Always the same old crones yelling at you about this and that and whatnot.
Headmistress Chance was the worst. The old fart walked with a limp. She said it was from a war injury, however we knew she was lying. Especially because we could see how prominent her Habsburg chin was. We kept making fun of her, calling her "Headmistress Chins." This only pissed her off more and made her even crankier.
She hated me the most, always referring to me as "bastard" or "spoiled nuisance" if she was in a good mood, however if she was not she would say worse things. And yet we didn't care. She bragged about all the accomplishments she had done, and yet no orphan there, human or not, cared. If she talked about how she was a dragon, she would always be asked how many towns she razed or how many people she ate.
I did this many days after I noticed shiny, prism-like scales in my bed. And of course, she taunted me. "Oh? So you decided to talk back to me. Again. Why don't you unfurl your wings...oh wait, you can't, because you're a bastard child!" I felt anger rising through me. "Why don't you unfurl yours, bitch?" I asked. Soon I realized that many of the students were staring at me in awe. I then became aware of the apparent weight on my shoulders, which had manifested in dragon wings, large and thick with scales the color of mithril. I looked towards her, my scales darkening to black. "Now, will you unfurl yours?"
She did, and when she did, the whole class started laughing their asses off. Her wings were more scrawny than mine, and each was a sickly shade of green. "So, Chins," I smirked. "Will you shut up now?" She snarled, dragging me to her office. "Insolent boy. Us dragons have no time for bastards." "Orange dragons came from yellow dragons and red dragons." She slapped me before shoving my face into two family trees. "Look at this, boy. Do you see the green and silver dragons at the top?" I nodded. "Those are your parents. A colored dragon and a metallic dragon. Now look down the trees slowly." I did, realizing that both of them were hybrids themselves, possessing traits caused by many dragons of different hues having offspring. I calmly looked at her. "Jealous?"
She transformed into the ugliest dragon I saw. "No. You are a heretic, borne of a heretical union. You must die." The toothless dragon sprang, only for me to grab her horns and wrench her head sideways, snapping her neck. I looked at my hands, now covered with black scales, the fingernails glowing orange. I stumbled back, soon looking into a mirror. My eyes were glowing orange as well, as were the tips of my horns. All else on my dragon head and humanoid body was a glossy black. I calmed myself before walking out of the office and orphanage. That bitch was no longer ruling over me. I ruled over myself.
I, the Prince of Darkness, Bearer of Flame, would start on a journey I would never regret. | 2021-07-25T17:02:28 | 2021-07-25T15:23:43 | 22 | 16 |
[WP] Magic suddenly becomes a thing. While governments are scrambling to establish regulations, people defiantly flock to reddit to share new discoveries and crack more “overpowered” spells. Write about a trending post that, for good or ill, is making authorities furious. | r/magicalTechnology
New post by u/ITwizard19. Title: I just taught my computer to cast spells
If you guys thought magielectric generators were a breakthrough, just wait until you see this!
As you know, three mages can perform an initiation ritual to grant magical abilities to anyone who did not instantly gain them during the awakening. Recently, someone found out that it works on animals too, but they don't know how to use their powers and usually end up killing themselves (I'm sure you all saw that cat gif that hit the front page yesterday)
According to arcane field theory, anything with a brain should be able to use magic, but it turns out that it isn't limited to biological brains: it works on neural networks too.
I got a few friends to help me perform the initiation ritual on my graphics card and after a few days of training a neuralnet on videos of mages casting Fireball, the computer was finally able summon a fireball right in front of itself! In hindsight, I should have picked a less destructive spell for my first test, but i remembered r/flamelord's fire extinguisher spell so nothing bad happened lmao.
As far as I know, my PC is now officially the world's first electronic mage! I've been doing some more tests and I now I have it able to cast Whirlwind and Healing Circle too, and I can adjust the power and position of the spells much more precisely than if I was casting them myself. What's even more impressive though is that if the computer is powered by a magielectric generator, it can use up to the generator's entire mana capacity in a single spell, which can be much more powerful than any single person could ever cast. Hopefully the cops won't figure out who summoned that house-sized fireball above the city lol
[here's the link to my code on github](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=dQw4w9WgXcQ). The neural network is a bit hefty, the first version put my gtx1080 at 80% load, but I've optimized it down to 60% and I think there's still a lot left we can improve. Eventually I'm hoping to be able to run this on something small and portable like a raspberry pi or a Jetson nano, then we could really start to have some fun
Edit: lmao my PC can levitate now. I hooked up a magielectric generator and a few mana capacitors for a power source and I can fly it anywhere I want by remote controlling it with SSH. this is so much better than a drone
Edit 2: just had another huge breakthrough, instead of remote controlling an already active instance of the neuralnet, i executed the startup command over SSH and the spell was casted in front of my laptop instead of the pc! It turns out if you start the neuralnet remotely from another computer, the spell will be casted relative to the position of the remote computer, and it doesn't even need to be initiated. This means you could set up one server to run the neural network and access it remotely from any number of smaller devices, and cast literally any spell you want anywhere you want, without human limits! This is going to change everything | *Transcript excerpt from* MSNBC, *03/09/0005 (11/05/2017 in the Gregorian calendar)*
ALESHA GRAHAM: Welcome back. Federal agents have arrested a Trevor M Monaghan in Newark, New Jersey, as the prime suspect of instigating February's so-called Valentine's Mindhack. The Mindhack was traced to a post on Reddit.com's r/relationship_advice forum, encoding the spell that made all women who read it violently crazed for male attention.
[images of people during the crisis appear on screen. One shows a woman being restrained by four female doctors. Another shows a man, visibly shaken, with a torn and bloody throat. Finally, the screen shows FBI Special Agent Braydon Dulles, standing behind a podium.]
FBI SPECIAL AGENT BRAYDON DULLES: We have good evidence that this internet post was the source of the Mindhack. We have a host of materials that indicate that Mr Monaghan was a member of several spellcrafting subreddits and at least one subreddit with a reputation for hating women. We have materials showing that he was researching the specific spell. We have writings that he had a vendetta against women--
ALESHA GRAHAM: Reddit.com has issued a statement promising swift action, saying that it will not allow its platform to be weaponized.
Since the attack, thousands of people have reported Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and Post-Mind Affecting Trauma Disorder symptoms, with many more still recovering from the physical damage caused by attacking or being attacked by victims.
We are joined briefly by MSNBC Senior Arcana Consultant, Dr Roy Linneberry. Roy, have we had an attack like this before?
DR ROY LINNEBERRY: We have not... in fact, we haven't had an instance of a spell being copied and distributed through the internet before. We don't know the principles of how that works. This should be considered deeply, deeply troubling.
ALESHA GRAHAM: In addition to the FBI investigation, what response from the government can we expect from this?
DR ROY LINNEBERRY: Well, at the very least this opens up whole new areas of study. Sometimes it's easy to forget that Zero Day was barely five years ago and the possibilities of magic are still not--even the foundations aren't well understood.
But if this is something that can be replicated, I would expect a quick and vicious crackdown on social media. My concern, and this is shared by the Institute of Arcane Studies and the Internet Watch Foundation, is that being able to transmit magic over the internet in such a way that passive viewers, uh, can be victimized by it or activate it, uh, that could turn social media into a WMD.
ALESHA GRAHAM: Sobering analysis. Thank you, Dr Linneberry. We will be updating this as a top story. Turning to sports--
*End excerpt.* | 2019-07-11T16:18:05 | 2019-07-11T15:56:19 | 54 | 13 |
[WP](NSFW) The world has moved on from nature documentaries, leaving many narrators out of a job. These men and women turn to a new field; narrating pornography.
Nature documentarists narrating porn. | Human mating, once a thing of beauty and mystery, has been reduced to a science by these clever experts. Like the majestic bird of paradise, the seduction ritual follows very clear and often complicated steps, depending on the particular variety. Our subject today is the common "Lemon-stealing whore." Though she adopts a somewhat unusual strategy, her tactics are quite successful. Let's watch!
The ritual begins not with an attempt to show off her ample busom or other physical features, as one might expect. This unusual adaptation seems to have evolved due to an over-saturation of competition from other women with more appealing aesthetics. The LSW instead gains attention by rather brusquely entering the male's territory and attempting to pilfer food directly from the male's home. The instinctive defense mechanism kicks in, allowing the Whore to bypass the complicated ritual attempting to gain the man's attention. This clever young lady has no need for such deceptive practices as 'hiring a plumber' or 'ordering a pizza.' She draws the male directly to her by threatening its food source! Ingenious!
Once the male has been sufficiently placated and the food returned, the female *then* attempts to turn the male's attention to more sexual acts. The male, with his naturally short attention span, completely forgets all about her past indiscretions in attempting to rob him of his sour citrus treasures, and willingly consents to copulation. From this point onward, it is up to the female to *maintain* his attention and bring him to coitus. The LSW does this through the use of a variety of sexual positions, exaggerated moaning, and contorted facial expressions in an attempt to trick the male into believing that she's really enjoying it.
At long last, the act is almost completed. Now comes the most difficult challenge for the LSW: the male will attempt to perform a maneuver known as 'pulling out,' so that he can avoid impregnating the female and thus keep all of the lemons for himself. The male will, however, attempt to 'claim' the woman as part of his harem by marking her face with his seed. This is a compromise result for the two, as the LSW is at least assured that he will attempt to copulate in the future. Let's see if she can manage to... Oh! So close! She didn't quite manage to keep him inside of her for long enough, and he has now established ownership of her with this 'cumshot' signature.
But alas, that is the way of cruel nature. At least we can rest assured knowing that she has gotten further than most females, and his sperm on her face is a promise that she can try again tomorrow!
I hope you all have enjoyed this tremendous display of erotic acrobatics, and I sincerely hope that you will tune in tomorrow for our special on the flock-like nature of the bukkake participant!
----
Please note that I have unfortunately never seen the infamous "Lemon Stealing Whore" video, so I can't assure you that this is an accurate depiction of what happens. But I think imagining it makes it more fun. And if you enjoyed the writing, you should also visit my subreddit, /r/Luna_Lovewell! | *Pleasure, Unbound*
*Narrated by Sir Richard Attenborough's disembodied voice*
The human mating ritual begins as the scantily clad female opens the door to greet the male.
"Big sausage pizza for a Ivana Pecker"
"Oh my, it's so big!"
By sheer masculinity and force of will, the male has attracted the female. It is unusual for this process to happen so quickly but it appears these two have a reactive chemistry.
"Please. Come in."
The female reveals her right breast to show the male that he is able to move onto the next phase of the mating ritual. He enters the domain with an aloofness essential to keeping the female attracted.
They enter the kitchen.
"What should I do with this big sausage?"
The male is clear with his intent through his tone. He is experienced in the art of seduction.
"I have an idea what you could do with that."
This signals to the male that he should move onto the next phase of the ritual, something that is unlike anything else in the animal kingdom.
The male and the female put their mouths onto each others and suck on each others lips. It may look like they are eating each other but in fact, this is a very important step for the woman to be ready for the reproductive phase of the ritual. The passion is intense. The woman removes the man's pants.
She sucks on his member. Like the previous phase for women, this is equally important for men to perform during the reproductive phase. Her vigor and enthusiasm are a sight to see. She nearly swallows the whole thing!
Clothes continue to come off as both parties prepare for the essential phase of the ritual. In most male/female relationships, it often begins with the male on top with the female on her back. However, these two have extraordinary chemistry and they chose begin with the female on her hands and the male holding her legs, similar to a wheelbarrow. A novel approach.
Listen to the cries of pleasure. She is clearly enjoying herself.
A new position. Now the female is sitting on the kitchen counter while the male is standing, facing her. This approach is not as novel as the first, but diversity in positioning is important during human reproduction for they tend to get bored rather quickly.
Oh dear. It appears the male is getting rather bored. The female gets on her knees and attempts to remedy the situation by going back to a previous phase of the ritual. Her energy is astounding!
The man is once again ready to perform. He gets behind the female, who remains on her knees, and penetrates --
"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH SHIIIIIIIIT" Johnny the gorilla moans.
Johnny pants for a few seconds and throws a sticky tissue in the garbage. He looks at the computer screen.
"I have to stop watching this sick shit."
Johnny turns off his computer and returns to his family, thinking they didn't hear him. But how wrong he is. They know, Johnny. They know. | 2015-04-08T11:24:17 | 2015-04-08T11:22:22 | 2,603 | 88 |
[WP] Now that video games are considered art, English teachers need to include them in their classes. | "Ugh, have you *seen* the required games list?" I groused. "It's a whole bunch of indie crap. We never get to play anything *fun* like Halo or Minecraft. I've never even *heard* of Life is Strange."
Jessica nodded. "Tell me about it. I mean, they could at least give us Skyrim or something. That's fun *and* it's got a storyline, right? We could talk about racism and stuff!"
"Funny you mention that, I had to play it when I was a freshman."
"Lucky!"
"Hell no. The teacher made us go through and take notes on environmental storytelling the whole way. You don't know boredom until you've written five pages on what you can tell about Draugr culture from the layout of their tombs."
"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that. My teacher usually just had us write reactions and predictions stuff."
"Well, you two sound excited to learn about games," a voice boomed behind us.
I jolted and turned around to see our new English teacher, Mr. Hoffert. "Uh, yeah. Totally pumped for, uh, what was it? Life is Strange?" I barely concealed my sarcasm.
"You might be surprised by it, actually. For your senior year, I picked out games about choices. Forcing the player to make tough decisions and live with the consequences."
"What, like a choose your own adventure book?" Jessica scoffed. "I grew out of those when I was ten."
I nodded. Jess was more tactless than me, but she wasn't wrong. "I read the blurb on Steam, it didn't really look that exciting."
He just smiled. "Oh, this takes me back. When I was your age, the teachers gave us a book called Lord of the Flies to read. I thought it was going to be boring like all the other books teachers gave us in school. Boy, was I wrong."
I shrugged. I hadn't read it. "Your point?"
"I'm just saying, games can surprise you, just like any other work of fiction. But if you don't like Life is Strange, just wait until second semester. I picked out a modern war game that boys like you will love."
"What's it called?"
His smile only grew bigger. "Spec Ops: The Line." | I'm a new teacher, fresh from university, This was my first year teaching English for elementary schoolers. Fifth graders, to be exact. It's also my last year teaching English for elementary schoolers. Wanna know why?
Day one. I enter my room. "Hello students, I am your new teacher. And I..."
I didn't finish my sentence when a cherubic blonde interrupted me, her cheeks shining and eyes glimmering in anticipation. "CAN WE PLAY MINECRAFT??"
I paused for a second before responding. "Wait. I'm your new English teacher, Mr. Lee, and today (I paused for a second to read the syllabus), we will be... playing... Minecraft?" Wait, what?
I paused for second to reread the syllabus as the classroom burst into cheers. "8/24. Teach the students art by having them construct figures in the virtual game "Mein Kraft"." What? Why were we using Minecraft to teach them art? Why did they spell it "Mein Kraft"? And why was I teaching 5th graders art in an English class?
Whatever. I turned around to announce to the class to get on their computers only to see that almost everyone of them was already on, playing Minecraft on the school's private server.
Here's a collection of what I heard.
"THAT'S MY OBSIDIAN POOP SCULPTURE!! MINE YOUR OWN YOU BLOCKHEAD"
"TEACHER, JOSHUA'S GRIEFING ME! I BUILT A HOUSE AND HE BLEW IT UP WITH TNT" (You would think that the school would at least think to activate block protection.)
"HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHEHE POOP HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE"
And from that one asian student in the corner? "Damn, I need three more redstone to simulate the universe inside Minecraft."
I closed my teaching folder, grabbed my clothes and wallet, and walked out. I lied to you in the introduction. I was a elementary school English teacher. For exactly one day, of course. | 2015-08-20T19:59:45 | 2015-08-20T18:11:48 | 40 | 11 |
[WP] You hit your head and wake up in 1951. Your phone and charger are in your pocket. Two years later, you've adapted to your new environment, but you keep your phone charged as a reminder of home. One day you sneak a peak at it and notice something strange-- you're picking up a wifi signal. | I sighed and fidgeted uncomfortably as I leaned over the pastel kitchen counter, chopping up vegetables for tonight's dinner. As much as I had gotten used to the rhythms of this new life, I still could never feel comfortable doing anything in a dress. As I methodically sliced the carrots into small circles, I remembered the smooth feeling of denim sliding over my legs, how much easier it made it to run, to sit on a chair and pull my legs up underneath me. Every now and then, this feeling that I could only describe as nostalgia would wash over me - nostalgia for the future that had once been mine.
It was 1pm; Henry was at work, and as usual I had the house to myself all day... every day. As I poured the vegetables into the pot of soup I was preparing on the oven, I remembered my fast-paced business career, the college education I had worked so hard to receive to get there. I thought back to the accident, for the first time in a long time. A simple bike ride. I had only looked down at my phone for a second, and the next thing I knew, the world was sliding sideways as my forehead smacked into the pavement.
These longings for my former life were getting fewer and farther between, but as the memories washed over me, I slipped out of the kitchen and climbed the stairs to my room. Peeling back the second left floorboard under the bed, I pulled out the iPhone. The cool metal felt strange in my hands, which had once grasped this device almost as if it were a part of my body.
There were some positives to being here, in 1953. I could experience life more fully without the barrage of social media filters, text messages, and global news notifications. I saw the world around me as it was. I didn't stop to take pictures. I simply lived in it.
I swiped my finger across the screen, marveling at the sleekness of the phone compared to the bulky TV that sat in my living room and aired new weekly episodes of I Love Lucy and the Ed Sullivan show (I could not *wait* for The Beatles). Closing my eyes, I played all of the iPhone's sounds in settings that had once irritated me, remembering how these alarms, timers, and pings had broken up my life into segments and defined it. I As I went to close the phone and get back to dinner, my moment of indulgence over, I saw it.
A small semi circle, just to the left of the battery symbol. And another, on top of it. And then another. A small cry burst from my lips as I clicked the phone off and threw it to the ground, temporarily stunned. Had that been...A wifi signal? I shook my head, utterly confused. I hadn't slept much the night before. Surely my eyes had deceived me. I tentatively picked the phone back up, turned it on, my eyes daring to glance back to the top left corner. There it was. I rapidly opened the phone and went into the small settings app. Next to wifi, I saw the connection; a network name that sent a chill down my spine.
"Impossible," the word slipped from my parted lips, barely even a breath.
A tear stole down my cheek.
"Hospital\_Wifi"
I ever so slowly opened up Safari. A Google search bar popped up. I found myself entering my first and last name, my shaking fingers awkwardly fumbling over the keyboard. The results showed up instantly. "Beloved local business owner passes second birthday in coma." | "What the heck?"
I suddenly blurted out as I stared at the strange thing in front of me. No sorry, the strange *person*. Had I trully been a part of this time, I would've stared in utter confusion and disbelief. Oh wait, I am utterly confused and disbelieving.
The other person held a questioning and terrified expression. A teen girl in an outfit straight from the 2000's media. I would've known, I looked at my phone regularly to reminisce the past... or the future, whatever. She looked at me, not ignoring my rather 'old fashioned' attire.
"How did you get here?" I asked cautiously. This might just be an illusion brought by my own homesickness. Though not as intense as I first got here, I still have those days where I just sit down and wonder how things are back in my own time. This might be one of those, and I'm just really high.
She didn't answer. Instead, she smiled at me. Then she held up a small electrical box. "Yeah... I sort of figured that out since I could watch Youtube again... In the fricking 50s." I said, a little bit blank but still all the more confused.
The girl probably already concluded I'm the same as her. But why would she show me the router that she brought? Why did she bring one in the first place??? What situation in the future would make a teen go lugging wifi around?
Then she yelled. "We almost got 'im!" I panicked for a second. "No, no, no, you don't do that! You'll attract attention, look at yourself!" I said as I rushed to her, attempting to take to a more secluded place to talk.
"Hold on, Mr. Cruz, we'll get you out." She said. I paused. "What?" I asked. What is she talking about? "How did you know my name?" I asked again, a bit more wary now. Has she come to take me back home?
Suddenly, everything was black. I spun around, trying to calm the panic rising within me. I turned to the girl and find that she was phasing from the teen I saw to a woman in white. "What are—..." I said, starting to back out.
The woman reached out to me with the hand that still held the router. "Bring him back." She said and I ran away into the darkness. But as I ran mindlessly, my phone suddenly rung in my pocket.
It wasn't a phone call, nor an alarm. At least not a sound I remember. It was a gentle beating rhythm that soon grew more familiar. I slowly skidded to a stop as I finally recognized the sound.
A hand grasped my wrist. I didn't have to turn around to know it was the girl with the wifi. "Come on, come back." She said a bit desperately. Then the hand disappeared.
I fluttered my eyes open to the sound of cheering and relieved sighing. It smelled like powdered air and alcohol. I was on a bed. And the first thing I saw was the sterile white of the hospital ceiling.
(Please tell me where I can improve) | 2020-06-11T19:39:06 | 2020-06-11T17:45:08 | 1,118 | 166 |
[WP] You died at the gym as you were trying to take a selfie while bench pressing. Thus you find yourself in Swaghalla, the Halls of Brodin.
EDIT. "Swaghalla" was the best pun I could come up with for Valhalla. Use something else if you have ideas.
Note: Swolehalla seems to be the proper name, pardon my mistake
second EDIT. Sweet, first time front page
third EDIT. I've had many good laughs brighten my Monday, thanks guys :D | At once, the pain of the weight on my throat stopped. I knew something was off because I could now lift it with the greatest of ease. I threw it and it landed twenty feet from me. Man, I thought, I must be getting really good. I turned and saw I was in a very odd place. It was what appeared to be a graveyard, but instead of tombstones, there were rows and rows of benches. An ominous fog rolling over them. The only other thing in view was a golden gate with a path leading up to the only place where sun shined in this place. Naturally I walked toward it and pushed it open, because the non-lifters were getting restless. I could hear them rising from their benches, moaning in pain. Clearly they had not lifted in centuries.
The gates were a challenge to open, but they eventually submitted to my will and I walked along the path to the light. I could hear loud cries of "bro" and "spot" and the sound of metal being lifted. It was music to my ears. As this place fell into view, I could see men with massive beards and mustaches lifting godly amounts of weights. They were all ripped and it made me feel like I needed to do some lifting to reassure myself that I could out-lift them.
"MY BRO! YOU HAVE FINALLY COME!" Said a manly voice that surprised me a little. I turned and saw a man in full viking attire, but his arms were not covered. He flexed in front of me and immediately I felt the sudden urge to bench press my entire body weight. His face had a long scar on it which led up to his one eye which was covered by an eyepatch.
"I AM BRODIN, the all-spotter. I am the keeper of the keys to the gates of Swolehalla! And you my bro, you have made it here because your quest to get massive biceps was righteous."
"What is this place?" I asked still overwhelmed by his biceps. He was still flexing.
"Swolehalla! The afterlife of all gym believers. Turns out benching your weight can save you my bro. Here we work out for an eternity to achieve the most excellent of biceps. Here, every day is leg day and the protein shake fountains flow in a never-ending torrent of synthesized goo. Women are waiting to ogle your massive muscles at any given moment, should you feel insecure. By day we work out till our bodies cave, and then after, we do some laundry to make clean clothes for the most righteous of partying at night. There is but one rule, if your bro spots you, you must spot your bro. Here you will train until your muscles are to your liking, then you will train to make them better."
I pondered this over for a moment, could I ever be happy with my muscles?
"But I will never be satisfied with my muscles." I replied.
"Good" he said patting me on the back. I winced as the wind was knocked out of me. "we have an eternity to work on it! Now come my bro! It is leg day! Let us go and blast those quads till you are sore!"
I was home. | "Woah."
The world around me is eerie and bright, like a morning hangover. I flip down my neon plastic shades. Much better.
How the fuck did I get here though? I was hulking out at the gym and--what's that sound?
*Clank. Clank. Clank.*
Wait, that's the gym. Someone's dropping plates. Scrub.
Hazy white mist swirls and clears before me and a giant wooden hall appears. Some kind of Skyrim shit. Seriously, where am I? I check my phone. No service, no maps. What the fuck? Only the smiling picture of my babe on my background. Did her eyes always look that distant and empty?
The clanking intensifies. It's coming from the weird wooden building. I approach. Maybe some dude there can tell me what's happening.
When did this shit get so far away? And why is this path so steep? Shoulda done some cardio once in a while, damn.
I reach the top and find two Monstar-looking dudes pumped out with their arms crossed on either side of some kind of Ninja Turtle door. Carvings of dragons and trees and some kind of jank-ass goat spider thing. I give them a head nod, you know the one. Dudes just keep on with their Buckingham shit.
"Yo dude. Where am I?"
"You're in Swaghalla," one says, not even turning his head.
"This is the Hall of Brodin," says the other.
"Okayyyy. Y'all have a phone I can use? I'm not getting service out here."
"To enter the Halls of Brodin, you need only open the door."
I eye up the door again. Mounted on either one of the double doors are what I can only guess are some kind of whale bone. The fuck? The sound of plates dropping keeps coming through.
"Whatever. I can open a door."
They don't answer.
I walk up and grab the bone. It's got these little pits on the inside edge that skeeze me out. I swallow. No problem, no problem. I got this. Just do it. DO IT.
I pull. Shit balls, this is heavy. I square up and brace, digging my heels into the ground. It doesn't move. Fuck. No way. I try again. My lungs are tight, my chest is like a steel-trapped barrel. I force exhale against a closed throat. Move damn it. Move. My vision goes white on the edges. I'm maxing out. God damn it. It's just a door. It's just. A. Do--
I'm flat on my back in the gym. A dude's on my chest with his lips on mine. I see my eyes refected in his. He gets off.
"No homo, brah," he says.
"What the fuck?" I say.
My bar is on the mats next to me. A bench is collapsed nearby. My chest hurts.
"You died, bro."
"Fuck." | 2015-11-02T06:36:28 | 2015-11-02T06:32:26 | 35 | 10 |
[WP]A masked vigilante has made an appearance in your city. As the the wealthiest man in town, you're having trouble convincing people it's not you. | Wayne Anthony watched the people of New Goth City as the Escalade limo drove along the downtown streets. Everyone had a story; Wayne liked to assume most were normal. Working, playing, loving, just living life. But, a part of him knew many hid another side of themselves. Those who were desperate to make ends meet. Or those who just wanted a little more. It was people like that who killed his parents and uncle.
As the limo stopped at a red light, a swarm of people crowded by Wayne's door, cameras and microphones reaching out. *Damn reporters*, he thought, cracking the window a bit. "Can I help you?" he asked, indifferently.
A barrage of questions filled his ears, one in particular stood out: "Are you are the Iron Bat?"
Wayne lifted his hand and the crowd quieted down. "Am I the Iron Bat?" he repeated, a half smile escaping. It wasn't that big a leap to suspect him as the city's masked protector. Using enhanced weaponry, displaying advanced martial arts training, Iron Bat has all the signs of some sort of funding. Add that to the fact that he had been stopping a rash of robberies from AnthTech, he can see why everyone thought it was him.
"You know what?" he said aloud, watching the light turn green. "I am Iron Bat."
The reporters exploded in questions as Wayne motioned his driver forward.
"You're the Iron Bat?" the driver asked as he watched reporters trying to catch up on foot.
"No," said Wayne. "But it's a lot more fun if they think I am."
---
*Thanks for reading! Want to read more? /r/MajorParadox. Want to read more superhero stories? /r/DCFU :)* | I laughed quietly to myself as I watched the news about this new masked Vigilante running around sleuthing it up. *Really? We have a hero?* I look over to my bed where the two Ecuadorian women are slumbering still worn out from the bat shit insane party we left and the after party we had here.
As I get to the Entrance hall of my Family estate I see a member of my house staff opening the door for a Police officer. "Sorry to intrude so late, but we need to speak to the master of the house." I saunter down the stairs, slowly tying my robe together as the Officer slowly averts her eyes. *It's just a dick* I think to myself, *I mean it's impressive, but you don't gotta be weird about it.* "How can I help you Officer Wallace?" I say as I reach the main floor, "Coffee, a bagel, A glass of Scotch?" I swear I thought we were done with midnight visits after I blew up my yacht out in the bay. It was an accident I swear, I didn't know that Alkaline would blow up when around water. The officer looks tired as she asks, "Have you heard about the new "vigilante" roaming around? He's carrying things made from your company's tech. Stuff that according to your Assistant is still locked up safely in R&D. Now we would like to believe that, but how do you explain your prototypes in two places at once?" I knew it was going to be a long night.
EDIT: Will update when have more time.
| 2017-06-26T07:51:16 | 2017-06-26T07:37:07 | 52 | 22 |
[WP]: Describe the ugliest person imaginable using only praises and compliments | The first time I saw her, I stood there petrified by her beauty; she was round as a perl and glossy like one too.
Her nose sitting on her face as the tour effeil sits on Paris, her hair like the tail of a mermaid that spent all her life in the ocean.
But nothing could even compare to her lips, two snails making love to eachother under the shade of her nose and the comfort of her incredibly well grown moustache.
She was the thing dreams were made of, the ones with shapes and creatures that only Lovecraft could describe. and her voice was poetry only vogons could write. | In my younger and more formative years, my father gave me a piece of advice I'd always held close: "if you can't think of anything nice to day about someone, don't say anything." When I think back to Sally, and the time I spent with her, I can only say this. She knew a lot about accountancy. | 2015-05-09T10:39:21 | 2015-05-09T10:15:55 | 54 | 20 |
[WP] As an immortal, you stopped celebrating your birthday centuries or millennia ago. Your young daughter wants to throw you a birthday party and your newest wife (who knows you're immortal) loves the idea. The only problem is, you have no idea how old you are or when your birthday is. | “Sweetie, I would love to celebrate my birthday with you.” He said with a soft smile as Millie jumped up and down in excitement clutching her Barbie. “But I’m gonna need your help.”
“I can set the table dad!” Millie beamed. “And me and mom can buy a gift!”
“I know but I need your help with something else, do you think you can help me pick a birthday?”
“That’s silly dad, you don’t pick birthdays.” Millie giggled.
“Do you know what your birthday is?”
“November 6th!” Millie said proudly.
“That’s right, do you remember that me and mom told you that?”
“Ummm… no.” Millie admitted straightening the dress on her Barbie.
“That’s okay we told you when you were very little, even more little than now.” He said and gave her a poke in the stomach that made her giggle. “Mom knows her birthday too because grandma and granddad told her what it was.”
“… Why don’t you have a granddad and grandma?”
“My parents are very old, so they aren’t around anymore. You know how we had to take Felix to the animal doctor because he was old?” Millie nodded. “And remember how he had to go to sleep and couldn’t come back home with us?” Millie ran over and pushed herself into his chest. “My parents are sleeping too.”
“I don’t want you to sleep dad.” Millie said hiding her face in his chest.
“I won’t.” He said as he picked her up and held her in his arms. “But since my parents can’t tell me what my birthday is, I was thinking maybe you and mom can pick one for me.”
“Okay.” Millie said wiping her face on his shirt before looking up at him and scrunching up her nose.
“You’re thinking hard.” He smiled as he poked her nose.
“I think your birthday should be November 6th.” Millie said pushing his finger away.
“But that’s your birthday silly.”
“I know, and it’s a really good birthday. I really like it.” Millie said with smile. “So dad will definitely like it too.” She beamed.
“I… I think you’re right.” He said a little taken aback. “Are you sure you don’t want to keep it for yourself?”
“Mmmh.” Millie nodded. “I think it’ll just be better with dad too.”
“I think it will be better with you too.” He said as he hugged her tightly. | Though the barrage of time leaves my body untouched, the mind is not infinite. I may not remember everything, but I'll always remember that.
Guinevere, my darling wife. We first met on the beaches of Sicily. Her soul truly connected with mine and for the first time in a millennium, I felt alive again. Three years later, we were married. A year after that, our daughter was born. We named her Rebecca. I would have chosen an older name, but Guin protested. She wished not to inflict her childhood torment for her unusual name on anybody else.
I admit, perhaps with some shame, that I had hoped Rebecca would carry my curse. Immortality means little when anybody you share it with is temporary. Guinevere, for all her perfection, carries the unfortunate fault of being mortal. She will die, and I will not. Unfortunately, it seems Rebecca, too, shall meet the same fate.
It may seem irrelevant to regale you with this, but it all leads to an important point. Though I cannot die, I spent much of my existence without living. Now, I choose to live for them. To fill their lives, however fleeting, with whatever joy that I can. So when Rebecca requested to host a birthday party in my honour, how could I refuse?
There is, unfortunately, a rather large setback to this: I no longer remember when or where I was born. The mind is not infinite. I may not remember everything, but I'll always remember that.
When is the furthest back I can remember?
I remember the Black Death. Henry the 8th. The Hundred Year War. Edward the Confessor. But there are also holes in my memory. I fail to recall my childhood, my parents, the place in which I was raised. Sometimes, for a second or two, I don't even remember what I had for breakfast.
A beautiful woman sits by my side. A small girl is pleading with me. "*Daddy, please tell me!*" she asks, playfully. "*When's your birthday?*". For a moment, I don't recognise them.
The mind is not infinite. I may not remember everything, but I'll always remember that. | 2019-09-08T11:13:54 | 2019-09-08T11:12:51 | 2,736 | 137 |
[WP] Area 51 has four level emergencies for a breakout. Level 3: Armed forces intervention. 2: Public statement. United Nations joint resistance. 1: Worldwide evacuation effort. Use of nuclear weapons permitted. And 0: Call the number on the sticky note (and pray to God his demands aren't too high). | "Sir, we have just been informed about sightings in England, France, Italy and China," the lieutenant reported after his brief phone call, but the general had already guessed. "Quarantine measures are in effect, but it seems unlikely that they will be successful."
"Has Madagascar been hit?" the general asked, a grim smile appearing on his face.
"Sir? I haven't heard..." responded the lieutenant, who's focus was clearly on the situation at hand.
"Never mind, soldier." The general sighed, knowing what it all meant. All of their attempts to contain the alien bacteria, even for a short time, had failed, and now they had a global pandemic on their hands. Attempts to evacuate the planet, prior to catastrophic infection, were clearly insufficient.
"Lieutenant, this has gone beyond a level 1 emergency. Remember the box that you were briefed on? The one we told you never to open, unless it was the end of the world? Bring me the box," the general ordered.
The full gravity of the situation began to dawn on the lieutenant. "Jesus Christ..." he muttered.
"That is correct," responded the general.
.....................................................................................................................................
The general dialed the number. "Mr. Christ sir? We have a... global pandemic type situation on our hands, and we could really use some of your healing, if that's at all possible."
Silence rang through the phone, followed by, "You clowns do remember that you killed me, the last three times I came down there, right?" |
"Let's just get started already... You know what a Level 0 means. We have to dammit! We're out of options." snarled General Jones.
"Wait!" I shouted. "He's been gone for 3 years. How do we know it's actually him?!?"
"Once you've seen him, heard him, felt his presence, and that hair... You KNOW who it is... now just do it already!"
"But he always seemed so nice. What happened?!?"
"They got to him kid! Now shut up and get to work."
"I've never done it before General. What am I supposed to do?"
The General stomps over to his safe, unlocking it with an fervor not regularly seen on his stoic face.
"Here's the VHS tape. It'll show you everything you need to know..."
As the General sauntered out of the room, I find the ancient looking VCR in the General's quarters. I shove the tape in and terrified to see what I'll find, I push PLAY.
I stare at the TV as the staticky image finally starts to become clear.
"This?!?" I wondered. "This is what would be the only thing in the world that can save us all from his wrath?"
"Sweatin' to the Oldies."
| 2017-03-21T05:27:38 | 2017-03-21T04:28:29 | 32 | 11 |
[WP] You were born with one talent that no one else has: the ability to spin a piece of a broken eggshell on a paper plate. Finally, you are in a situation where this talent is useful. | "It is her life."
I froze, the words still not making sense to me. Only moments ago, I had been sitting with my one year old daughter, trying to avoid getting even more pudding on my new white shirt. Now, I was in some sort of room. It was entirely dark, with only a small illumination in the center. The light seemed to come from nowhere. The only things in the room were a paper plate, a small cracked egg, and *it*.
I do not know how to describe *it*, only that it is demonic in a way that does not seem evil. I still did not understand the purpose of being here, how I got here, or why I got here.
"Whose life?" I asked, still confused.
His next words chills down my spine.
"Your daughters," *it* said.
My heart began to beat on overdrive, I began to panic.
"Please!" My voice came out strained and panicked. "Not her. I'll do anything."
*It* smiled, making it seem even more inhumane.
"Thousands have failed. None have prevailed. All have paid the price. I search for the one human who can fulfill my destiny."
Suddenly, the plate appeared infront of me, the brown cracked shell sitting precariously on the edge. *It* spoke again.
"The shell, is your daughter. Complete one rotation, and she lives another day. If the egg falls..."
"So does your daughter." *It* said this sentence as hauntingly as he could. And yet... all I felt was relief. Pure relief. My daughter would not die. She would be okay.
"Complete one thousand rotations... and her life will be preserved." *It* again attempted to manifest a grin. "I only saw potential in one human... and even he only managed one hundred and thirty four days..."
"Good luck," *it* said as it vanished.
I looked at the plate, and the egg in front of me. I smiled.
I had been spinning eggs on paper plates since the day I was born.
***
[r/ConlehWrites](https://www.reddit.com/r/ConlehWrites/)!
Not sure if this is a story that should have a sequel, but if enough people want it i'll write it and post it here and on my sub.
Edit: Part Two inbound! I didn't expect a this one to do so well! Thanks guys :)! I'm working on part two now!
Part 2 is up [Here](https://redd.it/6s1riy) or below! | It was me. Against my greatest fear. My greatest enemy. All I had was...a plate. A disposal one. And a piece of cracked eggshell. But I knew it was enough. For years upon years, I'd trained for this moment, the moment where the Padaegg became the Yolki. It was now. I spun the eggshell expertly, the deadly projectile flying dangerously towards the villain. He laughed, almost pitying me, until he saw its speed. Faster, faster, it came nearer, the friction causing even the plate to start burning. I thrust the plate forwards, the spinning catapult flying straight for his neck. He cowered, protecting himself first with a shield, then his mighty blade. But both of the cursed battle equipment that claimed many lives were destroyed, annihilated by the egg missile. His armour was torn apart, the smell of melting metal and charred flesh filling the air. Blood...the liquid it seeked...the shell was bathed in the red sticky substance, but it did not stop. No. A one-egg team, it decimated the man before me, until there was nothing more before me other than an eggshell, bathed in blood. Success.
I sighed, putting the eggshell. I'd successfully spun it round again, but even my imagination could not uplift me. Truth to be told, I was no hero and there was no villain. It was just me, and an egg. The only thing useless me knew how to use and maneuver.
Unless...I could use the talent for something...
I quickly got a camera, stationing it on a tripod stand by the kitchen door. I willed my egg-spinning performance to be the best I'd ever had, and it lived up to its expectations. Never before had my useless talent brought such joy to me. I reviewed the footage, making sure it was perfect for the eyes of millions. I got on Reddit, where the subreddit was just waiting. r/LearnUselessTalents. The idea that I'd had in conception for so long was finally coming to fruition.
I attached the video, and hit send.
______________________________
More over at r/Whale62! Sequels at popular request!
Edit: Spelling | 2017-08-06T00:03:51 | 2017-08-06T00:02:42 | 1,000 | 140 |
[WP] You're a ferocious demon king. You're surprised one day to find that a young woman has been left at your door. Only to later find out her father, the king, is using you as bait to find a knight worthy of marrying his daughter. | The watery light of winter washed over the plains of withered vegetation that seemed to creep forth from walls of stone. It had been some time since footsteps had fallen there. The death and decay that radiated from the castle made the land undesirable. A long while past the brave servants of kings would flock in droves, attempting to wrest his domain from him, in the name of their leige. As the rot set in and the wildlife faded, so too did these attempt. 1000 years or more had passed quietly. This was how Gre'van preferred it.
His violet orbs gleaned softly in the glow of the day. A mild curiosity could be seen there, had any one been looking. He stared out from the tower at the bleak landscape below. There, on the edge of his land, two riders broke the tree line. They were masked and draped in the same colors that showed on the tattered flags still mounted on the castle parapet, a keepsake from a long gone king, once resident of the now crumbling walls of the castle. In the centuries that past since his lordship, those colors had come to be associated with Gre'van. As such, few wore that violet and dark green combination. Oh, sure there was always an odd bird or two that worshipped the idea of "the demon king". Perhaps these were a few of them.
Slung across the back of one coal black beast was a colorful package. From here, he could smell the soft scent of rosewater and warm blood. A woman, he gathered. Perhaps his devoted followers had thought to garner favor with a sacrifice. Perhaps he would grant them the favor of being a sacrifice along side her. The idea pleased him. A deep guttural grumble, like the purr of an infernal tiger, shuddered through him as he turned from the sight below. He made his way, quickly, though without any real sense of urgency to the main gate.
The wooden gates had long since rotted. They provided no barrier to the outside. He did not need one. Any were free to enter his courtyard, though it was never wise to do so. So, he waited. The wrought iron portal to the castle proper stood open behind him. His form nearly filled the entire frame, meant to accomadate sseveral men. The waning afternoon light revealed his gray skinned, scar patterned chest and shaggy black hair. It hung likely around his gaunt face. He could not remember the last time he had a feast like this arrive at his doorstep.
Hoofbeats drew closer. His mouth watered. As they cleared the gate he stepped more fully into the light, a snarl ripping from his cruel maw. The sound, the smell, the candid appearance was too much for the delicate equine sensibilities. Brave destriers, battle worn, whinnied shrill in unison. Both took to find legs, white eyes flashing, nostrils flaring. The unsuspecting riders were tossed unceremoniously onto the dirt, heaps of violet and crimson and a small soft bundle of pale yellow. They weren't going anywhere.
Taking to all fours Gre'van lit out into the encroaching twilight, horseflesh was an old favorite of his. He could nearly taste it as he drew close. He would only take one, the other could serve as a message to any who may receive it. This place was not safe, even for the devout.
(I'm happy to continue this if anyone is interested, for now I gotta go back to work.)
| I am ancient, some say primordial and worship me as a god, the truth is a lot less grandiose. I was the first man born by the despicable will of the creator and cursed with love, for love I cared, protected, supported, grieved, coveted and killed... Killed so many.
With each kill I obtained power the more powerful I became the more foul I ended, my body withered with the necromantic energies I held, the souls of my victims carried my powers to greater heights. But my heart remained alive, cursed by love it was unable to wither and so my pain grew greater every day and I had many of those.
And then it happened my powers tore the gates of the White City the throne of the blighted creator, my army ripped the defenders leaving the city in ruins, stained with blood and death. The cowardly creator never even showed his visa get. I stood over the well of Souls, unending power to draw upon gave me the power to unleash a spell to re-write reality and I brought her back, not like my many creations she was alive once more, she had a second chance.
However I was not worthy of her, my hands were stained with death, my body withered and deformed and my soul weary and weak. I could not die but I was exhausted and drained, and so I went to our old hut in that nameless village, I had my army dig and ordered while I slept to create a city... A black city to mock the hated creator.
I sleep for far too long and awoke to the vibrant pulses of life, to the closeness of souls, most of them wicked and corrupted not as twisted as mine but on the right direction, and among them one that shone with a Blinding and familiar purity. They noticed my awakening as the Necromantic energies unfolded and lit the Black City awakening it's slumbering guardians, my army went to receive them.
The ebony gates of the Black City opened slowly and ominously I felt the wicked souls try to escape, with practiced cruelty I ordered my wailers and lurkers to bring them to me alive, they darted as fast as ever, I focused my atention on the last soul... So docile, I was intrigued and sent a Bone Goliath to carry this soul to me unharmed, it did not resist.
The wicked souls I set on clever torture devices designed to inflict the greatest amount of suffering, in my experience it makes for better soldiers and I wanted another corrupted leviathan, the creator was still free... My thoughs are interrupted by the entrance of the Bone Goliath gently carrying... Imposible!
She was in front of me again as beautiful and pure as ever, and my heart beat once, I felt a warmth emanating from it that I was quick to kill with a frost spell, after my initial shock I realized the obvious, it was not her, I could tell because even if centuries had passed I could tell her nose was slightly different, the freckles on her face were in the wrong spots and her eyes were not the color of the fire.
It took me long to recover, a lust to rip the soul out of her flared up in me, but my heart beat again and for the first time in centuries I was uncertain... | 2017-10-06T09:49:54 | 2017-10-06T06:34:52 | 29 | 20 |
[WP] An Alien and it’s Human sidekick roam the galaxy, willing to do just about any job to keep the fuel tanks full. The only issue - most clients have never seen a Human and they’re terrified by the sight of one.
Cake Day Post!
EDIT: wanted to say thank you to everyone that responded! I’ve been reading your stories on here for years & couldn’t have asked for a better cake day! | Daily log, 18:54:92 GOODS-North time, Somewhere in the vicinity of Ursa Major
Steve and I stopped at a refuel station on our way to meet our connect. Supposedly, there is good work where we are heading and you know we need it. Problem is the only convincing disguise we had for him got torn up on Lido Persona. I would love to tell you it got destroyed in some heroic rescue of some valuable piece we could sell at this stop but no. The idiot got the power module smashed in at the hotel by a even larger than normal Bracken male when he tried talking up the man's girlfriend. Guess I can't entirely blame Steve. Would've been fine if his auto-translator hadn't mixed up "Mind if I buy you a drink?" with "I actually think the war of Jeretasia Pertenta was totally justified." She being a Bracken from the Pertenta region I don't think I need to explain why she and her boyfriend were both upset.
Once the disguise powered down you can imagine how terrified everyone was seeing a bipedal hairless ape in the bar. Bringing him drunkenly back to the ship he couldn't stop laughing saying "that's like bringing a naked mole rat in a suit to the speak at the United Nations." No idea what he was on about.
He's still passed out in his room. Guess I am going out on my own for now. Need to prioritze getting him another mode of disguise on our way to see Yuondo. I'm sure to get picked out by someone who's not my friend without backup.
Signing off for now. | Before the door was even opened ,the energy was so thick a static arc crackled as the handle touched his hand .
Slowly the large metal door glided along a well oiled track to reveal dim blue flickering lights and the smell of hot transformer oil filled the nostrils.
Stepping into the dim lit room became anxiously difficult as the arching sound of high voltage electrical currents could be heard as well as felt when the small hairs began to stand up along the exposed skin .
Stopping to peer alertly in the direction of where the operation fail safe switch was supposed to be located according the buildings blue prints that now were clenched in the other fisted hand .
Enclosed head to toe in Arcflash gear ,the Fight or Flight instinct was caged inside a vault of training yet raged to be released.
27 steps from the door to the fail safe stop switch. 5 min of oxygen, low light and slick oil soaked floor with live circuits and no source outside the space to stop the power from finding the shortest path to ground.
No JSA ever covered this.thw Job saftey analysis form is useless and when I find out what electrical engineer put that fail safe inside the room ,I am probbly going to need bail money . | 2020-03-05T19:06:47 | 2020-03-05T17:47:27 | 55 | 20 |
[WP] There are (and always have been) countless Reapers in the world. Tell the story of how one became infamous as Grim. | There is no such thing as limbo.
Instead, lost souls are given a second chance, a tool of their choice, and a job. Of course, there are also two rules that they must follow.
1. Never kill a human before their time.
2. Always give them the opportunity to bargain.
Now, while the first rule is fairly self explanatory, the second one is slightly more complicated. By law, a reaper *must* give the deceased human a chance to continue living, to extend their time on earth. Some reapers require the human to tell a worthy story. Others require them to win at a certain competition. The method really does not matter.
The Grim Reaper, the most famous one, generally allows his souls to challenge him to a game.
What makes him famous, however, is not *how* he gives them their chance.
But instead, it is that he lets the humans *win.*
Most reapers jealously guard their records. Many boast a clean sheet, proclaiming that a human has never once beat them.
The Grim Reaper is the opposite. Thousands, if not millions, of humans have won against him. Whether due to mercy or boredom, it is rumored that he simply lets them succeed.
*But that is the very reason he is so well known.*
When the victorious human awakes, the Grim Reaper is the one he remembers. The dead cannot paint pictures or tell tales. The reapers with the perfect records are the ones that no one knows about.
So, if you see the Grim Reaper arrive at your door, do not be afraid. Welcome him.
Better him than anyone else.
| Our Grim Reaper is the most notorious reaper. But not for the reasons you suspect.
See, it all started one day when two kids were playing in the living room after the birthday party. Then, in flash of smoke and darkness appears the Grim, the Reaper.
The two children stood aghast. One child went into a fetal position, whereas the other, a small girl, looked defiantly at the Grim Reaper.
The Reaper mockingly laughed and said no one could stop him from taking his dark harvest, as he held his scythe dominantly. It started walking, walking across the room with the air of a hunter, with the air of royalty.
It was here to harvest the soul of the aged, decrepit friend of the children in the corner of the room.
But the girl valiantly stood up, and challenged the Reaper to a game for the soul of their friend and a reward. If she lost, she would give her soul too. The Reaper with an evil grin accepted.
.......
Grim the Reaper, lost a game of limbo for the hamster's soul and had to become the children's slave forever. He became the buttmonkey of the cosmos.
NACHOS!YES! | 2015-07-20T13:42:28 | 2015-07-20T12:48:13 | 68 | 13 |
[WP] A little girl dies and is accidentally sent to Hell to where the Demons don't know what to do with her.
Edit 1. Holy crap did this get a response 0_0
Edit 2. Jesus Puppy Christ is this getting attention. | *Scene: A torture chamber, dimly lit by the fires of eternal damnation. A 1972 Boy's Own calendar hangs from a nail on the wall, and beneath it a collection of chipped cups surround an ancient, battered kettle. Playing with the sugar cubes is a small, grubby toddler. Behind her, two minor demons argue...*
NORMAN: 'You can't keep her, you know'
STANLEY: 'But boss, come on, you said I could get a pet...'
NORMAN: 'I said no! She's not a pet, she's a three year old girl! What d'you want a three year old girl for, she can't even do anything interesting! Not even poisonous! When you said we should get a pet I thought you meant something decent, a rat or something, or one of them flamin' ravens but not a bloody toddler! We shouldn't even have 'em down here, you'll have to take her back!'
STANLEY: 'But come on boss, you gotta admit she brightens the place up a bit, look at those fat liddle cheeks...'
NORMAN: 'This is Torture Chamber Number Four, not a bloody kindergarten! Get rid of her before she extrudes something, I'm not cleaning that up!'
STANLEY: 'But boss, I've named her and everything! Gonna call her Nicole.'
NORMAN: '...why Nicole?'
STANLEY: 'Found her in France, someone ran her over with a Clio'
NORMAN: 'That's just morbid Stanley. | "Peter, errr, I think you sent down the wrong file. Why? Do you seriously not know? Well, I have a seriously traumatized 10 year old girl sitting across from me right now and I want to know what in the name of all that is unholy happened in the sorting system. What do you mean 'the system is perfect'? Is she really supposed to be here? ...No, 'designed by his holiness' is not necessarily a perfect description. This is the fourth one this week. ...How did she die? Drunk driver, and He already knows how many of them we have down here. ... Awww, she is a peach; made Beelzebub scream with one touch, that's how pure she was. Now can you please check the spreadsheet?... You just hit 'ctrl+f' Peter, not too difficult.... Ah, now there is your problem right there; change the value of drunk driving caused death in the sum to 100 instead of -100.... Because I said so and this little girl needs to go where she needs to go. Do we have that cleared up?... Yup, now she is gone. Okay, see you later. Tell Jesus that my son said hello and that they should get together sometime.... Alright. Goodbye." | 2013-11-26T20:33:41 | 2013-11-26T19:52:58 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] Whenever you speak, people hear you speaking in their native language. Most people are surprised and delighted. The cashier at McDonalds you've just talked to is horrified. "Nobody's spoken that language in thousands of years." | Oh, here we go again. The pale, skinny, tattooed, creep behind the counter was freaking out, whispering, shaking, stammering, "nobody's spoken that language in thousands of years." So, of course I had to screw with him a little. "Well, obviously you don't get out much." "Now, how about my Big Mac, or do I talk louder?"
I had no idea what the sewage spewing out of my mouth sounded like to him. Nor did I care. When I wished for this, I didn't think of the consequences. But nobody ever does, do they my *little* *Jin*? It was all so clever at first, math to mathematicians, Hindi to Lyft drivers, a little Telugu, Yue, and Hiligaynon here and there. Happy times for the attractive, magical hyperpolyglot. But not for long.
Who knew there were so many weirdos in San Francisco? Not foreigners, they're not weird. I mean the real freaks: aliens, time travelers, walking dead, the "ancient ones," demons, angels, Jin, and of course, the endless vampires. And that's exactly what I had on the other side of the counter. Working the night shift at a McDonalds. Don't they all? And that skinny little psychopath was getting ready to jump the counter and rip my face off.
Maybe screwing with this one was not exactly the right idea. I lowered my voice. "Listen dear, I just want a Big Mac, fries, and a chocolate milk, and I'll be on my way. Nobody will know, nobody will ever care." "Oh, and could I have some *extra* c*atchup*?"
That didn't seem to work. His eyes were changing colors faster than last week's gay pride parade, and he was developing a serious overbite. I was getting further away from my Big Mac, and closer to a stainless steel bed at the morgue. So, I did it. I didn't want to do it, but time was of the essence.
He didn't make it over the counter. My vampire, the assistant manager, the old woman running the takeout window, and the pimply fry boy, exploded like boxes of rusty detonators stuck inside pigs.
"Go to Hell" in English is rude, bitchy, and ineffective. But when shouted using the filth those freaks speak, it was a curse that was *extremely* *imperative*.
Maybe I'd have better luck getting some Chinese, after I went home and cleaned up.
^(--- Edit --- Thanks to) [^(t)](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/132536.Robert_G_Barrett)^(he late Robert G. Barrett for the bit about detonators. -- More edits -- because that's what we do around here.)
Continued at: [https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8tqase/wp\_you\_are\_walking\_down\_the\_street\_and\_realise/e1av1qo](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8tqase/wp_you_are_walking_down_the_street_and_realise/e1av1qo) | I blinked. *What?*
The cashier had tears in his eyes and was staring right into mine with such intensity I had to keep blinking.
"L.M.A.O. my dude," I offered nervously, not knowing what he had just heard me say. "Are you feeling alright?"
He didn't answer. In the moments that followed, silence took over the room as neither of us said or did anything. I had counted to 69 Mississippi's in my head when Jefe - that was his name, according to the name tag I noticed and read after Mississippi 42 - suddenly jumped over the register onto the customer side. Before I could react, he started running for the door.
"Hey, wait!" I yelled after him, but he did not listen. Jefe burst through the glass door and out into the street, seemingly unaffected by the flurry of broken glass and metal that his body had encountered.
I turned back to the register and an older, Hispanic man in McDonald's kitchenware emerged from the kitchen. "Hey," I started nervously, checking his apron for a name tag. It was on his lower left abdomen area, and it read Jeff. "Jeff, I ordered two large fries and a fountain drink."
"*Eey*! You speak fantastic Portuguese, my friend!" Jeff whispered, smiling. "Your order is ready, I was just about to bring it out when I heard some noise." He turned and walked back towards the kitchen, but stopped abruptly in front of the doorway. "Wait a second, how did you know I come from Portugal?" he said, his upbeat tone quickly fading. "And where is the boy, Jefe?"
"Oh yeah, Jefe said something really weird and -" A loud screech and thud interrupted my sentence. I turned and dashed over to a window beside the destroyed entrance to see what caused the noise. An old, beat up looking Jeep was stopped haphazardly across the middle of road. Its windshield was covered in blood and shattered through the upper right corner. My eyes scanned the parking lot and I gasped, quite audibly, when I saw what the Jeep had hit.
Jefe's body lay a few yards in front of the Jeep, crumpled up like a bloody pretzel. I stood by the window dazed as Jeff ran out of the store screaming. *What the flippity fuck?* My mind was blank and seemed to be preparing to produce its first thoughts to react when a bright light made me blink and squint. The light was followed by a deafening bang and a shock wave that made me back up a few steps. Just like that, the Jeep had exploded.
Bits of metal and rubber flew into the store through the shattered windows as what was just a few seconds ago a Jeep became a smoldering pile of metal. *What did Jefe mean by thousands of years? Why did this Jeep explode? Where did Jeff go?* These questions raced through my mind. I carefully climbed over the rubble surrounding the entrance and looked around. Suddenly, another blinding light made me look away. *Another explosion?!* I thought incredulously. I was right.
Jefe had exploded. | 2018-06-24T21:27:25 | 2018-06-24T20:16:31 | 165 | 56 |
[WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work?
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | New suit, old tie, there's a stain in the middle, and a tear in my eye.
I sigh.
The streets are the same, the cars they drift, the leaves they fall, from the blue sky
I sigh.
I walk and walk, sip and sip, the rye begins to run dry
I sigh.
The students they sleep, careless, naive, am I really the bad guy?
I sigh.
Another day, another night without her.
If I said I could live without my love, it would be one big lie,
I sigh,
I sigh. | I stepped off my broomstick at 0730 just as the Ministry of Magic was beginning to whir into life after a fairly uneventful weekend. I made my way to the elevator and pressed the B6 button. As the elevator descended, I wondered what Supreme Chancellor Umbridge would have me doing *this* week to that Potter boy. | 2016-02-22T10:07:53 | 2016-02-22T09:11:12 | 300 | 90 |
[WP] After you die, you're handed a book about your life. You open it, expecting a novel. Instead you get a "Choose your own adventure" book with all of the decisions you ever made, and every outcome they could have had. | "Is this some kind of joke?" You ask, barely making any effort to conceal your frustration. You know better than to go off on the first guy you stumble across in the afterlife, but this is growing remarkably tedious.
The man behind the desk doesn't even meet your gaze and seems quite irritated by the disturbance. "I don't know what to tell you, friend. I don't read each book that comes across my desk. You have any idea how many people die a day? I just hand them out."
You plop back down and let out a sigh. Up until this point, the book you hold in your hands has only gone in chronological order. Many pages only end with one choice. Even the ones with multiple paths have zero impact on the "story".
*to pursue a career as an electrician, turn to page 3,283.*
*to pursue a college education, turn to page 3,283.*
You find that if you had gone to college, you merely would have dropped out in less than a semester and become an electrician anyway. Your "choice" amounts to nothing more than an additional paragraph at the top of the page.
You had no real say in any of it. Were all your decisions really so inconsequential?
You don't entertain the thought for long. You know what is to come. You know the moment everything fell apart.
This time you'll turn right.
The day comes. You skim through most of it, you remember the day well. You don't forget a goddamn thing on a day like that. You begin your drive home. You are lost. You're in an unfamiliar neighborhood. It is raining quite hard which obscures your vision. Your GPS on your phone is not responding. You don't remember the way back.
*to turn left, turn to page 48,458.*
Your heart drops in your chest. This couldn't be right. Only one choice. Only one fucking choice.
You slam the book shut. You refuse to relive that. You choose indecision. It seems to be the only other you have, and you'll be damned if this book is going to take that from you.
Hours pass. Days. Weeks perhaps? All the while, the man sits as his desk, reading quietly to himself. He glances up occasionally only to return to his book.
You know the rules. You must finish the book before you can leave this room. Your hands trembling, you resume where you left off.
*to turn left, turn to page 48,458.*
It all happened so fast that it barely registered. All the text captures are the fuzzy details you retained. The briefest glimpse of a bicycle in your headlights. The sudden impact. The sound of a person's head very rapidly meeting pavement. A sound no amount of whiskey will ever drown out or water down. The blood. So much of it. What seems to be an impossible amount of blood.
The woman screaming. The pleas for help.
The therapy. The guilt. The anger. Bewilderment. The copious amounts of alcohol and the many fights that come along with it.
*to tell your wife you understand her decision, turn to page 872,862.*
*to beg her to stay, turn to page 872,862.*
For the next 500 pages or so, your choices are very limited. More often than not there is only one option. This is starting to seem like a sick joke. Eventually, there is one alternative that shows up every now and then that grabs your attention.
*to try to forgive yourself, turn to page 2,567,873.*
Forgive yourself? You will do no such thing.
*to buy another bottle, just turn the page.*
*to try to forgive yourself, turn to page 2,567,873.*
*to browse through that young boy's memorial page on Facebook again, just turn the page*
*to try to forgive yourself, turn to page 2,567,873.*
*To try slicing down the wrist this time, just turn the page*
*to try to forgive yourself, turn to page 2,567,873.*
You just continue turning the page.
*to pull the trigger, close this book now.*
You crumble to the floor and begin to sob uncontrollably. This is the only option you have left. The man sees his cue and walks over to scoop up the book.
"What....what was the point of all that? To torture me? Have I not done that to myself enough?" You didn't realize you were steadily raising your shaking voice as you spoke, but the man remained unfazed.
He turns back, your book tucked under his arm. "You've done that more than enough, my son." He speaks gently for the first time since you began the book.
You slowly stand on legs that barely prove to hold you, desperately hoping he will continue talking.
"You had no choices because you *made* no choice. You were only ever prepared for moments that had already passed. What you could have done differently. You couldn't choose your adventure because you were so fixated on changing it."
You look at the floor, unsure how to respond.
"The path you took is the path that was. Alternate endings are merely an author's fantasy."
You look him in the eyes and nod apprehensively.
"Are you ready to try to forgive yourself?"
"....I can try."
He hands the book back to you.
"You know what to do." | I stared at the corner, where two walls joined.
The thing about eternity, is that small fragments of time cease to mean anything. When you're twenty, a year goes by like a month. When you're 50, they seem to fly by like days. I was lucky enough to leave that concept behind before I got too far beyond 50.
I had been staring at the wall for a very long time. I flexed my hand, feeling the immaterium of my projected consciousness stretch and contort, ghosts of tendons displacing veins and muscle, which only existed for as long as my attention span. It was translucent, but only because I knew what was inside. I returned my blank gaze to studying the wall. I knew what kind of Nothing was inside that too. The Room constituted Everything. The sum capacity of my new universe was 15ft by 15ft by 15ft. And the Book.
I felt another well of discomfort, rising in a throat that didn't exist, anxiety flooding through my body, imaginary hormones riding blood that dried up centuries ago. Centuries? Centuries. Probably. Those things hadn't meant anything for a while. At first I had obsessively kept track of time, guessing and reguessing and estimating and correcting. That mania overtook me about twenty years in, but after a while, I realised that time only meant something when it was heading somewhere. There was only This. There was only Now. There was only the Book.
And there was The Wall. Steven studied the wall. It was smooth, and grey, and if he concentrated hard enough, he could see the swirls in the fabric of reality, compounded and solidified into this glorious, perfect monument, exact, square, and _solid_. If he peered in, deeper, hot, white clusters pulsate, flitting around each other in a flirtatious dance, twining themselves in strands of ether, never quite touching, until, rejected, they collapse, retreat, and form a new dance. Or maybe they didn't. He reached out to touch the wall, and found that his fingers met substance. He felt the distal phalange of his index finger squish through meat, straining to make contact, to reach through the wall and join the cosmic dance. A tear that didn't exist rolled down a face that had never been seen. One was joined by others, which became None as soon as they left his face. He stroked the wall with five finger tips, and let his hand find the corner.
He hadn't moved away from the corner for a very long time. He hadn't looked at the Book for even longer. A while ago, he switched corners, but that was just because he came to know all of the white specks on that side. He predicted a year's worth of their movements, and after that he got bored. He had laughed when he first woken up with the book, and spent a year studiously ignoring it. To acknowledge it would be to give power to whatever put him here. And anyway, he was never much of a reader. But sooner or later, he had thumbed it open. Later, in this case. As his thoughts on time shifted, Later ceased to exist. The thing about eternity is, you'll do anything to fill the now, to push Later out of your mind. Later isn't something that you want to exist.
The Book was a thing of beauty. The cover was plain, and uninteresting, but it was so unassailably _real_, that it felt like it carried the sum total of everything inside. Maybe it did. Despite the number of pages, they never ran out. You flick 10,000 pages to find out where one option takes you, and still find yourself in the middle. That's part of the problem. It was entertaining for a while. Steven saw where his life led, and then the life of somebody almost like him. And then somebody slightly further away, a distant, less Steven, Steven. In fact, Steven had read, lead, visualised and been defeated, loved, lost, murdered, been killed, died of diabetes, killed himself, killed the president, _loved_ the president, a million times over. A billion. It was like an eternity of films. In fact, Steven had lived so many lives, so many Reals that were so different from his own, that Steven no longer remembered which was his own. In fact, the only concrete thing that Steven had left, was the fact that his name was Stephen.
His tears dry by themselves, eventually, and he turns his head to the center of the room, to look at the Book, drawing everything Real into it, like a black hole drawing in light. He stands, and stretches out of habit, feeling muscles sliding over rib bones, feeling lungs expand with un-air. He turns the rest of his body, and begins to place one foot in front of the other. The corner that he was sitting in, and two pieces of wall attached, slowly disperse back into the immaterium. | 2018-07-04T01:11:05 | 2018-07-04T01:06:47 | 640 | 18 |
[WP] Job hunts are literally that: You seek out the job you desire and kill the one who has it, or even engage them in ritual combat to claim the job as your own. You have just turned of age and desire your first minimum wage job. | Brian snickered to himself as the elderly janitor stepped into the room. The man had to be in his sixties at least and the only weapon he had chosen to bring was a mere mop. What a senile fool. "It was awfully brave of you to show up, old man," he called out. "It's obvious who's going to win. Why don't you save me the trouble and just quit?"
The old man in front of him simply smiled serenely in response. "Funny. I could say the same thing to you. It would be better if you just quit now, so I don't need to waste time wiping your blood off the floor."
Brian's face turned red with rage as he hardened his grip on the crowbar he was carrying . He was going to enjoy beating this idiot to a pulp. For a few seconds, they just stood there on opposite ends of the room, waiting to see who would make the first move. Then, Brian let out a loud roar as he ran toward the janitor, his crowbar raised over his head.
What happened next happened so quickly that Brian barely had time to process it. One second, he had been running toward the janitor, ready to smash his head in, the next, the janitor's hand had whipped out at frightening speed and splashed something on the ground in front of him. Screeching as he desperately tried to maintain his balance, Brian felt himself starting to slip as the janitor swung the end of his mop at Brian's head. It was only by sheer luck that Brian managed to regain his balance and throw himself backwards out of the janitor's reach.
Growling, he raised his hand to his neck and was stunned to find blood dripping down from his fingers. The bastard had actually managed to cut him? He glared at the old man. "I'll fucking kill you!" he screamed.
The janitor's calm face didn't even flicker. "You're already dead," he said.
What the hell? What the hell was this bastard on about? Suddenly, Brian eyes bulged as he started violently coughing. The pain in his neck started to swell and burn, and he fell to his knees gasping for breath. "How..what...what did you do?"
The janitor gestured to his mop as he slowly walked toward Brian, who was desperately trying to scramble backwards, even as he was choking on his own blood. "I embedded the mop strings with barbed pieces of metal. After that, I just added some cleaning chemicals to create a deadly poison that could kill in seconds." He looked dispassionately down at Brian and forced his mop downward into the terrified man's mouth. "Now, if you excuse me, I need to take out the trash." | “You must be new here,” a voice called out from the murky darkness.
I scanned my surroundings warily. It was a futile effort, however, considering what little fluorescent power was left in the store sign flickering above me could barely illuminate my now-bloodied hand, holding onto a bat studded with nails. Uncreative, definitely, but very effective, as evidenced by the man that now laid on the floor, twitching periodically.
“Yeah,” I called back. “You? Looking for a job as well?”
“Me? Maybe, maybe. Not here, however.”
It was difficult to discern just how much of a threat that voice was. A homeless man, just rambling? A potential rival trying to unnerve me? Its words were hoarse, unnerving, but unthreatening. Yet, it dripped with gravity, the weight of knowledge burdened upon each syllable that could only come from a person who has seen far too much.
“Why not?” I said. “Looked like a pretty good place to start.”
“What do you know of the 7-Eleven on the corner of 10th and 13th?”
“That few come here,” I said. “Not a very attractive job, but enough for minimum wage. And a very, very, easy cashier behind the counter to kill.”
“Hah,” a hoarse chuckle emerged. “Of course. An amateur.”
“You wanna go, old man?” I shouted. “I still have quite a bit of swinging left in these arms.”
“Oh, you don’t need to put on a show for me,” it continued. “I just wanted to ask how much you knew about this place, that’s all. Plus… best to save some strength for the person who runs this place, you know?”
“The person who runs this place? Isn’t he dead, right by my foot?”
“Him? A mere shift worker,” another laugh came, this time wheezing and choking. “What do you really know of the retail manager at the 7-Eleven on the corner of 10th and 13th?”
I felt a pair of heavy hands on my shoulder. I turned around, and gulp.
A man slightly taller than me. Smiling. Eyes cold, dead, and far beyond human.
A monster.
“He’s a man about commitment, focus, and sheer fucking will. Oh, and considering that he’s the one who plans the shift schedule, he’s not very happy that it’s been disrupted.”
---
r/dexdrafts | 2020-11-15T11:19:58 | 2020-11-15T10:31:10 | 2,089 | 450 |
[WP] Temples are built for gods. Knowing this a farmer builds a small temple to see what kind of god turns up. | As shrines went, it was poor fair. Laina had planted a pair of thick granite slabs into the ground, much like fence posts. She topped it with a long, smooth river rock, decorated using dyed corn husks. She didn’t expect much from her improvised temple, mainly in the hopes that whatever came wouldn’t expect much from her. Being a farmer didn’t leave much time for devotions.
Laina’s guest was a small, sleepy spirit that smelled like fresh rain. He had no name and no body, just a gentle breeze and a pleasant feeling. Laina smiled at her good fortune. She left offerings of golden grain at his shrine.
The nameless spirit flitted about her fields. He cooled her on scorching days when the sun seemed to bite more than kiss. He traced patterns of beautiful frost when the cold trapped her inside. But mostly, he rested atop his shrine, humble king of a humble land.
Time passed, as it always does. Laina passed, as mortals always do. Her relatives tended the farm, and then their relatives, and so on. Everything changed and yet nothing changed.
The nameless spirit carried out its duties in a new era. He did not mind being forgotten. The wind and the rain, despite what poets might tell you, are not vengeful. They are calm in the way of nature.
Still, the spirit was unburdened when his shrine finally collapsed. He felt content at having done a job worth doing. And Laina, though nameless now as well, was grateful for his many years of service. The two met once more in the winding breeze before parting to await the next needful shrine or errant prayer. | The sun shown over a farmland somewhere in Japan....
It was done. I, a farmer, have built a temple. It's wasn't a big one, but a stray god can only take what they get. It wasn't long before a cloud of dust appeared on the horizon.
A man wearing a black tracksuit with a sword slung across his back. It wasn't long before he was a mere three meters away when he finally stopped.
"Yes! I, Yatogami, finally have my own shrine!' He exclaimed.
Shaking out of my stupor, "Who the hell are you?" I asked.
"Im a god!" said the self proclaimed 'Yatogami'.
Staring at him, "You don't look very, you know, godlike?"
He snorted, "Times are hard, especially for a stray god like me."
I cleared my throat as asked, "What can you do?"
He held up five fingers, "Anything as long as you give me-" he paused and shook his fingers.
"Five what? Five thousand ryo?"
He shook his head.
"Five hundred thousand ryo?"
He shook his head.
"If you want more than that, I'm sorry you should just go find another shrine"
He looked at me with a grin. "FIVE, just FIVE ryo."
~~~~~~~
Well idk, saw the prompt and this came to mind.
| 2018-01-19T08:30:47 | 2018-01-19T07:50:55 | 67 | 16 |
[WP] Everyone has a number on their chest showing how many people they will kill in the next month. Yours just changed from 1 to 3 million. | He stood in front of the mirror, thinking to himself. “I have to pass, I don’t know what I’m going to do if I don’t pass, if I don’t get in.”
Slowly he tore open the envelope, not even sure he wanted to know. He closed his eyes, slid the letter out and unfolded it.
*“We’re sorry, you did not meet the minimum score to allow entrance to the Vienna Academy of Fine Arts class of 1908. You do have the opportunity to apply agai…………………”*
As he gazed at his reflection in the mirror, his number changed.
| A Thursday rain had not been forecast. As I walked out of the local primary school I saw the number on my chest, flicker. One had become 3 million. At that moment, not only did I know that the fad of 21st century fatalism had finally reached its peak, but I knew I shouldn't have voted Brexit.
(Terrible story, but topically relevant I hope) | 2016-06-24T03:51:47 | 2016-06-24T01:32:15 | 37 | 27 |
[WP] We “knew” humans were weak as they avoided every war with diplomacy. We never imagined they’d be this ruthless & how seemingly overnight they went from peaceful beings to a state they call “TOTAL WAR”. War is in their blood & soul. They thrive on it, mostly when the odds are against them | "The humans have sent us terms of surrender, and I suggest we accept them." The Ripak Emperor's chief military advisor kept his tone even, knowing what was about to happen.
"Ah, excellent. So they've finally capitulated to our superior strength," replied the Emperor with a smile. "Tell me, what did they request to keep for themselves?"
"No, sir, you misunderstand. They are not offering to surrender to us, they are offering to accept our surrender," replied the advisor, wincing. "And I really do suggest we accept the terms they offered."
"What?!?!?" the Emperor screamed. "I should gut you myself for making such a cowardly statement." The Emperor reached for his blade, but paused when he saw his advisor remain still without making any attempts to take a defensive stance.
"If I may, sir, I would rather die today at your hand than watch our empire burn should we continue to fight them."
That made the Emperor pause. Even if his advisor had turned coward, he never would have gotten his position if he wasn't very intelligent. "Explain. If I don't like your answer, you'll get a coward's burial."
Nodding, the advisor explained. "As you are aware, sir, the humans outnumber us nearly 500-to-1 in total population, even though their estimated military numbers are less than one tenth of ours. What we were not aware of, what nobody was aware of, is that every single member of their civilian population who is able to, is also ready and willing to fight. And every single member, able to fight or not, is willing to turn their entire purpose towards the war effort if needed.
"Already, they have begun the process of converting all civilian manufacturing to military needs. New shipyards are being constructed; not just on major manufacturing planets but everywhere they can. Industries that would normally be seen as irrelevant to the military are finding ways to support the war effort. And this is just the beginning. I was provided with hundreds of hours of historical data showing the Humans' reaction to past conflicts some dating back to before they even left their original planet. Humans are not weak pacifists who avoid war because they are afraid to fight, they try to avoid war because of how easily they *embrace* it. They don't fear *starting* a fight, they fear that *once they start they will never stop!*"
Hearing this last statement caused the Emperor's eyes to go wide, and he suddenly remembered something his late father (and predecessor) had told him as a young man. *Do not try to provoke one who wishes peace, for they will fight the hardest to reclaim it.* It was something he hadn't understood at the time, but now, faced with having done just that, he finally grasped the lesson his father had been trying to teach him.
Closing his eyes, the Emperor asked quietly, "Tell me, will I survive the surrender terms? More importantly, will the Empire?" | "We all know they're weaklings, Commander Smith," The soldier said, saluting Commander Smith, "I mean, come on, they don't know how to fire gamma-rays. In fact, they haven't built any spaceships yet."
"That's enough, Soldier 92-BII," said Commander Smith, "We're headed to their planet. The news spread that it colonized all of their star system after finishing the completion of Pluto a
'dwarf planet'. What a strange term." Commander Smith walked through the hallway.
Soldier 92-BII looked out the window. The spherical object he saw had a red and gray surface, with a layer of nitrogen shaped as a heart. Nearby was another gray object, but one of it's poles was orange. "How fascinating. It seems yellow dwarves have the strongest gravity of all the stars." Soldier 92 said.
A few minutes later, they had an encounter with a giant, dark blue orb with a relatively large moon. The ship steered towards the moon and eventually landed.
Various soldiers began walking onto the surface of the alien world that was being controlled by humans. Amongst hushed tones, Soldier 92 learned that the name of the moon was 'Triton' and the planet it was orbiting was named 'Neptune'. "This is a true alien world." Soldier 92 said before realizing that Triton was his stop, so he scurried off.
Looking around the icy world were giant structures made of metal and glass, rising high into the night sky. Some were connected. Humans could be seen walking amongst the city on the alien world, thriving. However, the peace ended, disturbed by a scream. Soldier 92 ran over to the source of the scream. Another soldier, Soldier 98-7BG, had stabbed a human in the chest. "What?!" Soldier 92 grunted angrily when he was tackled by a human, who was furious.
"KILL THE ALIENS!" Someone said over an intercom.
Total war had started. To 92's surprise, the human he was dueling was incredibly strong. Several of his allies' bodies began crashing onto the ground of Triton.
Suddenly, a flicker of silver light. Humans left and right fell to the ground, their weapons disappearing. It was Commander Smith. "92, what happened? Why did this start?"
"W-well, uh, 98 decided to stab a human, and apparently that made the rest of them mad, so then they started dueling us. To my surprise, they were holding their own. We have several fatalities, including 98." explained 92, gesturing to the corpses of his allies.
"This is going to be one of many, I can just feel it." | 2022-08-05T10:59:41 | 2022-08-05T10:57:14 | 1,150 | 107 |
[WP] The rules of the land are very clear. Anyone can challenge the king for his crown, in any way they want (test of intelligence, strength, etc.), but the king gets to declare one condition that must be followed throughout the entirety of the challenge. | "I win as soon as we start the game." The king blurted out with a confidence of a man completely unbothered by any and all things big or small. Any were free to challenge him for his crown but he was allowed to set his condition... any condition.
The challenger just as unbothered quipped back.
"That is fine with me if that is your condition."
The king was already to dismiss him his hand already waved to sway the back of his hand to cue the guards to usher the defeated challenger back to whatever gutter he came from.
"Guards, you may see him out now." He uttered, the challenger's approval of his terms going completely unnoticed.
"Sire... sire... you're majesty. The challenger accepted.... he accepted your terms..." The king;s aid leaned over in a failed attempt to whisper.
"Whuh? Huh? Wha-what do you mean he accepted. If he accepts I've won. See the man off. Why are you wasting my time."
"Your majesty, you are the one wasting my time. Would you like to hear the game first or would you like to stand by your original condition?" The challenger interrupted. The king and his aide snapping their gaze to finally take notice of the challenger. He was a plain looking fellow. Nothing special or too threatening.
"Game? What game is there to play if you have already lost? Are you a fool boy!?" The king bellowed out insulted by the preposterousness of the challenger's demeanor.
"A game of words." the challenger stated as he pulled out a small envelope out of his pocket "Or more accurately a game of lies. You seem to be the type of man to be familiar with the art of lying, are you not?" An accusatory yet coy smirk finding the lips of the challenger as the king looked on with confusion.
"Mind your tongue trash! You are still subject to treason until the game begins. What is this game you speak of and remember it is the King you are addressing!"
"My most insincerest of apologies. I'll continue with the due respect necessary." The challenger said, smirk never leaving his face or his eyes never leaving the king's. "I have a written a statement. The game is simple. You must either confirm the statement or deny the statement. If you confirm the statement it must be made true. If the statement is denied it must be made false. So... for example.. If in this envelope I've written "The King must die." if you confirm it, who ever is king as the end of this game must die. In the case of you being the winner. You will die. And if you deny it than you will live."
The king sharp of wit as he was as sharp in temper quickly blurted out. "Then my condition is to see the paper first."
"Is that your condition? Remember you only get one."
The king not willing to fall for any kind of a bluff blubbered out. "Y-ye-Why of course!? If those are the rules of the game...." even before he could finish the statement the challenger's smirk slowly grew into wry grin as his hand reached out to hold out the envelope. His lack of hesitation in surrendering it causing the king to reconsider his choice. "Wait... wait..wait!" he shouted at the guard who was already moving to hand the paper to him.
"This must be some kind of trick. Or are you a fool... but how brave a fool?" The king's confused expression twisting into a menacing grin of his own to challenge the challenger's. "My condition is that you must be beheaded before statement is revealed!" he cackled out. "The game can be played with or without you so your death with not impede my ability to play it." The king's eyes glazed over with pride as he thought he had ensured victory.
"You are correct your majesty if I am alive or dead has no bearing on your ability to play it... but once I am beheaded you must play it and depending on if you guess incorrectly you may not be too far behind me. The question is not if I am a brave fool but are you a brave king? Once I am beheaded you HAVE to guess. If I assume you a coward and have written "The King lives." and you deny the statement, how comical would that be." The challenger's smiled a little more in this battle of grins meeting the king's murderous intentions with hinting of his own.
The king was visibly frustrated. Seething in his scornful stare. If he could kill him right here and now he would but in doing so he knew the challenger was right he would still have to play the game put before him. And while he would never admit it he was in fact, NOT a brave king.
"You're bluffing." The king chortled out a forced chuckle. "Yes, you almost had me rattled peasant but I see through your foolish attempt to outsmart me. You don't want me to look at that paper. You want me to doubt you! Give me the envelope."
"Is that your cond..." the challenger started.
"Give me the envelope or die where you stand!"
The challenger sighed and took a step towards the guard between them to hand over the envelope. The king snatching it away from the guard and fumbling to rip it open.
"Your foolishness ends here and if you do not beg for forgiveness so does your life peas....." he started before looking at the paper in shock. The room silent as death as the court all darned not even breath as the king seemed frozen in his seat. | The laws of the land were clear. Anyone could challenge the king to a game of their choice, and the king got to state one condition that had to be followed during the entirety of the game. If you won, you got to be king, and rule the land. Which I guess was pretty cool. But that wasn’t why people wanted to become king. It hadn’t been the reason in a long time. It was the challenges.
Originally, the king wanted to keep his crown. Therefore, any time someone challenged him, he always came up with these impossible conditions. But when you face 30 challenges a day, 90 a month, and 8100 a year (give or take), you get tired. And bored. And it wasn’t just the king getting bored and tired, the citizens did too. So it was time for a change of pace.
At some point, the challenges became much less about pushing one specific aspect of humanity (strength, intelligence, etc.) to its limits, and became more about creative challenges. In turn, this forced the king to come up with creative conditions, and overall, things became a lot more fun.
Don’t get me wrong, there’s a charm to the old challenges (Not to go on a tangent, but King Edwin XXIV against Roderick Pullstrom. He challenged the king to drink from a poisoned cup, and whoever died would lose, knowing that someone, earlier that very same day. The king smiled and just responded “my condition is that you drink first.” Roderick gladly did so, finishing the drink within seconds, then smiled, and said it was the King’s turn. The King’s smile supposed didn’t fade the whole time, even as he slowly sipped his drink until there was nothing left. The King’s smile only got wider, and when Roderick asked “W...what now?” The king leaned forward, and replied with two simple words. “You. Lose.” Like I said. Older challenges had their charm.)
From a young age, I had always been a fan of the board game Monopoly. I couldn’t explain it. Probably something to do with the idea of controlled chaos. Monopoly has a lot of random factors in the game, but they only ever interact with each other in limited ways.
And so, I went to challenge the King (I’ll skip past the boring details. You have to make an appointment to wait in line to talk to someone to stand in a DIFFERENT line to then be told that you’re queued up, and that you have to wait to stand in line to...it’s a whole process). But I finally got to the front of the line.
“Challenge 27 for the day. One Mr. Scott Torrin.” My entrance was announced in relative monotone, as if it were a matter of fact. Which...I suppose it was. Now that I thought about it, how did- “Mr. Torrin? What is your challenge?”
I snapped out of my daydream as my thought trailed off. I almost even forgot about the board game hidden behind my back.
“Um...right. Right! Your majesty, I challenge you...to a game of Monopoly!”
There was a wave of...something that spread throughout the room. It was half awkward silence, half nervous laughter, and half confusion. (Hey, I never claimed I was good at math.)
The king rolled his eyes and rotated his hand through the air. “Yes, yes, but what’s special? What’s different?”
I just started down at the board game in my hand. “Um...this...this is the first edition.”
The king got a hunger in his eyes and lurched forward on his chair. “So it’s got some special rules that only the first edition had? Or...or perhaps in the first edition, the pieces all had special powers?”
I blushed as I looked down at my basic, non-special, first edition Monopoly board game.
“Some of the spaces are named slightly differently...and...I...I think maybe the pieces are different. There’s a boot in this one...”
The king slouched back into his chair and rolled his eyes. “Very well. Monopoly it is. You’re aware I get one condition?”
I nodded my head.
“Alright then. In the interest of changing things up, my condition is that you cannot use any money in the game worth more than 10, but you will start the game with all bills worth 10 or less. Change will not be given, and I can only collect amounts from the bank if the exact amount is there.”
Interesting. Having played Monopoly as long as I had, I knew the contents of the box by heart. This definitely put me at a disadvantage...but a playable one. He would start with 1500, and I would start with only 640. Which...was enough to buy any property on the board. Maybe not much past that, but it was a start. So my main strategy would be trying to get the smaller bills back from the bank as quickly as possible before he could get them.
“Do you understand the challenge as it has been laid out?” Asked the king.
I gulped. Then I nodded my head.
“Very well.” The king replied. “Let’s begin.” | 2022-01-10T11:20:13 | 2022-01-10T10:10:41 | 41 | 19 |
[WP] A sixteen-year-old boy who has lived his entire life in a monastery inhabited solely by men sneaks out and sees a girl.
A while ago I read about the Greek monasteries on Mount Athos, where not even female animals are allowed. There's at least one case of a foundling being dropped off, growing up with the monks, and living his entire life on the grounds of Mount Athos, having never seen a woman. What would happen if he snuck out? | Delilah enjoyed bathing in the river near the monastery. It was far enough into the buffer zone between the monastery and the town that she might have some privacy. Not that privacy was of supreme importance, she was far from being a shy woman! But she enjoyed the peace while she considered what mischief she might be able to stir up in the coming days.
Little did she know, mischief would come to find her. For a youthful man in the habit of the cloistered monks appeared around the river bend, leaning forward as if he were driven away from that cloister by a bitter wind.
He must have had something on his mind. Hardly looking far enough in front of his feet to keep from tripping, he sensed her presence only at the bequest of her inquisitive cough, and jerked to a halt barely within five armlengths of Delilah.
Eyes wide, jaw dropped... this fellow isn't admiring my body, he is actually confused by it! Delilah delighted in her impact and followed up by standing fully from the water and quickly closing the gap to the newcomer in three sultry steps.
Hand extended - "Hi fella! My name's Delilah, pleasure to meet ya!"
A reciprocating arm extension missed her palm - his hand pointing, not clasping. "My God! What happened to you!"
Delilah's mind worked quickly. She dropped her eyes and shamefully acted, "The devil... He came to me in the form of a beast with a mighty sword, and cut my manhood off - leaving only a cleft in its place. -- Fair traveler, tell me your name that you might assist me. I am scarce able to walk from the pain."
His eye's stayed wide, but his look of wonder had been replaced quickly with a fearful grimace. "Thom... Thom's what they call me. Except I had planned never to hear it again. You see, I was just now fleeing the monastery... I, I... I see now why God gave me the calling to leave! It was not for me to flee the cloistered life, but it was so that I might come across you and help you in your battle with the devil!"
"Come back with me, I can carry you if need be. We study plants and herbs... perhaps a poultice could be made and applied.... perhaps it is not too late...." Delilah could barely hold back her smirk. Thom's face had gone from red with exertion, to a pale gray from shock in about as much time as it might take her to snap her fingers! This would be a fun | "Lord, please forgive me of my trespasses" he uttered to himself while clinging on to the cross hanging from his neck. Father gave it him to commemorate his confirmation.
The moonlight shined brightly through the young man's window, as if god himself had shown a spotlight on him. Normally he felt safe under The Lord's gaze, but tonight was different. Tonight was one of sin.
At this time of evening the boy would have been at nightly mass, but feigning a stomach ache was more than enough to convince father, a kind hearted, trusting man. Just thinking about it drove the boy mad with guilt.
With a deep breath, he stood up and approached his window sill. With as much subtlety and precision as he could muster, he lifted the glass and took his first step to freedom. The damp air settled heavy in his lungs, and the dew already began to settle in the soft grass. The moisture glistened in light of the moon, almost illuminating his path to the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.
The oak tree standing tall at the edge of the church grounds was like a beacon of hope from having to walk so far out in the dark. And even better, there she stood. He almost didn't believe her invitation earlier that day was sincere. They only talked for a brief moment while she walked just outside the confines of the monastery, before a monk told him to get away from the outsider.
"Meet me here at the dawn of night" and then she was gone.
Few words were spoken. Small chatting of the weather and of days activities, with interjections of awkward silence. But something came over him, for the first time he was spending time with a beautiful young maiden. Her eyes were blue as the sky and her blonde hair flowed in slight curls, brushing back and forth with ever so chilling breeze. She smiled and looked down, brushing her hair behind her ear, and he took his chance.
A kiss as innocent as their young hearts was given to her. He pulled away, and they both started to giggle softly from modest embarrassment from their inexperience.
And in that moment, the boy thought of the moonlight sent from the heavens to watch as he carried out his sin. But only this time, he thought of it not as a The Lord looking on in defiance, but as him looking on in admiration, for being able to create something as beautiful as young love. | 2013-12-19T18:29:27 | 2013-12-19T18:26:23 | 48 | 20 |
[WP] You have the ability to see heart-strings. You can see the connections that people have with each other. Each connection appears to be a colored line running from one person's heart to another. The colors, thickness, and texture of the line determine the strength and type of connection.
Based off of [this](https://www.reddit.com/r/godtiersuperpowers/comments/nn1e36/you_can_see_heartstrings/) thread, where people keep asking me for a writing prompt. | I didn't get home until late that night, and found her asleep on the couch. The TV was on some old sitcom. The flickering lights played across her peaceful face, her familiar snore just barely audible over the laugh track. I walked over to gently wake her up, but something stopped me in my tracks.
One of her strings had grown. I frowned, and looked at it closer. The other ones were all the way I remembered: the light grey spiderweb strands reaching out to various acquaintances, the cozy cream-colored knitted fabric connecting her to her mom, the honey pouring sideways towards her close friends. And of course, the deep red silk thread tying us together.
But here was another one. I didn't recognize it, at first. It looked almost like a friendship, and I almost convinced myself that it was. But the color was a little too deep.
Her eyes fluttered open.
"You're home," she said. "I missed you."
"I missed you too," I said. My chest ached.
She smiled at me, and I looked at our shared heart-string. It was still so strong. I looked at the new line. Maybe it wasn't red. Maybe it was just a deep honey, a deep friendship.
I decided not to look at it again. | I really should be going to sleep, but I came from the original post and had to write something, so here I go.
\[Poem\]
I hold the fabric in my hand,
a scarlet silk thread
flowing in rhythm with the beats of my heart.
&#x200B;
Oh, how I wish I could cut it
No longer tied and imprisoned
To feelings of hidden attachment
&#x200B;
Could I end all red and scarlet ties,
Ignite it with the passion I wish to end
set my burning desires aflame
There will be no single moment of doubt
&#x200B;
I dream of dying our thread back to blue
Of days I could follow the string
Find you at the other end
And love you as one loves a friend
&#x200B;
One day I will see your threads
Paying attention to details I now wish to ignore
In the sight of one of them, red and shiny as my own,
There will be another end,
Not mine
And I will be happy. | 2021-05-28T17:35:49 | 2021-05-28T15:00:01 | 172 | 39 |
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy. | Terrestrial Warp Drives. First proposed by Miguel Alcubierre two hundred formlats ago, The equivalent of forcing space into a shape which closely resembles two black holes stacked fore to aft. It requires insanely large sums of energy to produce the warp effect, equivalent to at least the mass of a small moon converted to energy. To get around this, the Terrestrials use catalytic mass converter engines. A device which has been discredited by the rest of the universe for the complete and utter destructive potential should such a reactor melt down on a planet. They work by converting matter to energy with a catalyst particle. However, they also produce a certain percent of catalyst particles. When this process runs away, it has been known to destroy planets, heavily damaging entire solar systems.
Under order 4,900,232 section III, Human spacecraft are to be classified as "NOT TO BE TOUCHED UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES" on or near a planet, and "DESTROY AT ALL COSTS" in interplanetary space. This is not done as a measure against humans, but as a safety measure across the galaxy. This will be done until a treaty can be made with the terrestrial humans such that they will cease using catalytic mass converters.
Examination of a captured Terrestrial FTL Engine under the Federal Standard Gravity Model suggests that some fairly simple improvements to the Alcubierre-type drive can be made to reduce the energy requirements to what can be managed by fusion and antimatter reaction technology. They need not give up their unique drive. As dangerous as the Terrestrial Drive is, it presents no risk to those outside the vessel. | *What is that you said? They use* **Explosions**?*
*"Yes"* - - **"explosions"***
*"You mean chemical reactions using the laws of thermodynamics?"*
*"Yes, in larger scales - that's what the humans refer to as* **explosions**, *their entire civilization was built around using them but not watching them for some reason. Eventually they worked out how to split Neutrons off atoms to create even bigger chain explosions."*
*"So how did they barely achieve FTL travel and only just recently?"*
*"Well to put it simply - for a while they made it illegal to use these Thermonuclear* **explosions** *to propel themselves into space."*
*"It seems that would've been the most efficient way to get out of planetary orbit."*
*"Why in the Universes Logic would they make it illegal?"*
*"Well considering their entire civilization was based around* **explosions** *they encouraged a culture around destroying each other with them. "nuking from orbit" they claimed was far too unsportsmanlike to wage war."*
*"Well no wonder they never left the solar system until now."*
*"Fucking humans, so stupid - If they could get the most versatile material in the whole galaxy they'd turn it into a Frisbee."* | 2017-03-31T09:38:09 | 2017-03-31T04:03:05 | 42 | 19 |
[WP] In a world where intelligent and overly educated people are being executed, you fell on love with someone you believe to be as intelligent as you are. The only way to find out is to fill conversations with hidden subtext that a normal person would miss. | We've lost most of our senses. We can't stare too long. We can't say smart things. We've lost most of our technology. We can't wear glasses for fear of looking smart. We are only allowed access to a heavily monitored 'internet' that's a far cry from it's old decentralized self.
For those of us that remember, it's a global version of the Cambodian genocide from the 1970's. The leaders fear a rebellion of the people and keep their tight hold on the world by executing the people who even have a whiff of smartness about them. They started by executing the leaders of the secret mass surveillance programs once the software was sophisticated enough. Technically that was legal, since the leaders of that mass surveillance program didn't 'exist' and had been abusing their power of illegal information gathering for nearly seven decades.
I'm the leader of the resistance, but we are failing fast. The cruel people we now have as leaders have developed software that project an infants IQ from birth. Most don't make it out of the hospital. The mothers are killed too, since they've proven they are capable of carrying a high IQ baby to term.
I also met a girl. Some nagging feeling in my gut tells me that she's hiding it too. Smarts that is. Her eyes focus too sharply, too intelligently. I keep wracking my brains on how to communicate, but I'm growing tired. Part of me doesn't even care anymore. We are losing a battle we cannot possibly win. Who would it hurt to just settle down with a gorgeous girl and live out my life in ignorance of the terrible pain all around me? Could I even do it without feeling like a cut up dirt bag?
I absently started typing on her thigh, just like I do on my old QWERTY keyboard where my Tor relay is setup. She grows deathly still and slowly turns towards me, putting her hand on my thigh as well. Slowly her fingers type out a sentence that leaps into my mind like a whip:
"My name is actually Sam. My people have been hibernating in hopes that your technology would advance, but we waited too long and can't communicate with our old contacts. We want to bring down the regime, can you help?"
| Her golden brown hair rest gently along her shoulder. Her sparkling eyes reflected the world around us, like two pristine snow globes. And her smile. The kind that could lift those cast upon the underworld into a heavenly embrace.
But it was her voice that was off. As if forced and unnatural. Sound being squeezed through a tube too small and oozed out into a squeaky jumble. *She must be faking.*
"So, and like, then I was like, O-M-G, did she really just say that? It's not like I sit at home all day and play housewife. If I could leave that job, I'd--" She stopped herself, as if to prevent a secret from spilling out.
This was my chance. To see who she really was.
"You would what?" I pressured.
"I'd-- I don't know. Travel, see the world," she spoke softly, her words no longer angled in my direction, but floated up from her soft lips and hovered like a fine mist.
I felt adrenaline begin to flow as there was no turning back.
"Aren't you comfortable in the bubble you live in now?" My head shifted around, eyeing the McDonald's restaurant goers for fear of my question being heard.
And then she gave me that look. The one where we've known each other for years, though we had met through a friend only a week ago. She just stared, and time slowed. I knew her heart was beating as fast as mine.
She finally looked down at the table, her quarter-pounder with cheese sat uneaten in a cluttered mess. And she looked back at me.
"I never really did like these things," her voice now poured gracefully, emanating from a beautiful fountain.
She sighed. Her genuine voice again pierced the silence. "I'm really, really sorry Zach."
"What's there to be sorry--" She interrupted me before I could finish.
"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you do or say will be held against you in a court of law." | 2015-08-04T11:15:07 | 2015-08-04T10:46:29 | 483 | 266 |
[WP] You are a superhero whose powers are based on the music you are listening to. Rock can make you stronger, classical makes you smarter, etc. One day, you're fighting your toughest villain yet, and you are forced to use your "forbidden" playlist. | I'd burned through at least a half dozen genres in the last few minutes. No matter what track was being pumped through the headphones integrated into my helmet, I either couldn't keep up with the hell-faced bastard or none of my hits would do anything to their adamantine skin. Every time I tried something else, they seemed to have the perfect counter. I needed something... more.
There's a reason why I keep away from certain types of music. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing bad about any of them. Well, most of them. It's just that I'm not a fan of the aftereffects of some of them. Techno makes me feel jittery, same with a lot of rap. Anything in a language I don't normally know kind of scrambles my speech for a while. Villain songs from the Mouse have me cackling evilly for a long time afterwards. But they all have a purpose.
Even the blacklisted tracks.
A shudder passed through me as I thought of that damned playlist. It wasn't really dread though, more like... excitement. And I hated myself for it. But I needed to end this before we leveled the city. Or, well, much more of it. I just hoped that I could stop myself when it was done.
So... I punched in the password for the locked tracks onto my arm mounted panel.
"Rip and Tear"
The warning phrase played in my head right before the first track kicked in.
"Until it is done." | "And stay down!" Maestro slammed Songbird down to the concrete.
The hero lay still, dust rising around her. Her headphones skittered across the pavement. A crunch followed, as the villain stepped on them. The beats of Poison silenced instantly.
It was supposed to be an easy battle. Maestro was a new villain in town, having pulled a few low level heists. Robbing the bank was his "big move". She should've been able to shut him down. Fly in on the Olympic theme, switch to Mozart to case the joint, then glam rock for the stunning finisher. Easy.
She didn't know he could control the music. That this had been a trap meant for her.
He had bent the Olympics to a minor chord, crashing her into the building. Mozart had become discordant. And, well, the less said about how weak she was after he silenced the electric guitars, the better.
Well, two could play at that game. She thumbed her phone, fortunately still safe in its case on her belt. It was time to "Let It Go" if they were "Playing with the Big Boys" now. Because she had "Friends on the Other Side", and children's belief made reality much more malleable. | 2022-05-17T09:22:08 | 2022-05-17T08:28:11 | 486 | 91 |
[WP] You are a multi-billionaire with a lovely wife, who is trying to kill you to inherit your fortune. You love her so much that you just don't have the heart to tell her you are immortal. | I had thought Mary was the one. I'd hidden my wealth and lived a modest lifestyle for a few years before she found me. I had thought it was real. It had felt real. She held me when I cried when the dog died. I told her about the wealth a few months before the wedding. She didn't seem to care.
The months turned to years and years to decades. We had our rough patches. It's funny, I've had so many relationships before you would think I'd be good at them. I think I am, now.
The murder attempts didn't start until her mid sixties. They were cute. She tried so hard to make them look like accidents. The brake cables on the car, the electrical fire in my lodge. The SCUBA accident.
I ignored them, until she really hurt me. Stabbed me in the back. Literally. I think it was the betrayal that really got to me. I had thought she'd loved me. I thought about these last few decades and then pushed my way into the room. She sat on the edge of the couch, crocodile tears streaming down her face.
Despite my resolve the sight of her moved me. She had always been pretty, but the years had turned the looks of her youth into the beauty of age. Her makeup was done impeccably where the tears hadn't ruined it. She wore her mother's necklace, a small cross set with diamonds. She'd worn it on our wedding day. I hardened my heart.
"All these years and now you're after the money?" I asked, accusing. "And yet you've tried again and again to kill me. I have news, Mary. I knew about it. I knew about all of them. And they all failed. Do you know why?"
"Yes." She said. I was surprised. "Yes, I know why."
"I'm immortal." I said, off my guard. "You can't kill me. You won't get the money."
She stood up and faced me, the trickle of tears had turned to a flood, and her anger washed over me like a storm. "Don't you get it? I don't want the money! I never wanted the money! Is that what you think of me? After all this time? That I was just some whore you could buy? All this time, listen to me." She sniffed back a wad of snot and laughed. She continued bitterly "Forty three years? Most of my life. A weekend fling for you."
I had no idea what to say, so asked the only question I could think of as she slowly melted back down the the couch. Her fist over her mouth. "Then why? What do you want?"
She squeezed her eyes shut and the tears really flowed. "You're an idiot. Isn't it obvious?" I shook my head but said nothing. She hadn't seen the gesture. The rage had gone when she spoke again, barely soft enough to hear. "I want you. That's all I want."
"So you tried to kill me? I don't understand."
Her anger returned, flashing in her emerald eyes. "I'm going to die. Don't you understand that? I. Am. Going. To. Die. And you won't!" She shouted it like an accusation. She clutched her necklace and a sob wracked her
"When dad died mom said that she would see him again in heaven. She talked about it. She looked forward to it. She died with a smile. And I can't... I can't bear the thought of eternity without you. I had to try. I'm so sorry, but I at least had to try." |
"Well. That was fun. I'll have to remember to call Angelo and have a new shirt made. I don't think he"ll be able to sew those gashes shut. And the stains. Blood never comes out quite right. Yes he'll be frustrated he has to remake a 'masterpiece' again, but if I've done it a hundred times then surely the man can do it twice. I pay him enough for it."
Crash.
That sounded like a dropped glass. As I turned towards the sound i caught the look on her face. She was an angel, sculpted from an infinite pool of beauty, mesmerizing. Elizabeth had shone from the moment I saw her, the lights behind her eyes illuminating a world of possibility for me, a chance at happiness, a chance at true happiness.
We had been together ten years in June, ten glorious years, and we had been perfect. Every conversation stuck with me, like she truly understood me, the eternity of things, the defined nature of our relationship, the stability of the life I offered her. We never spoke of her past, or of my own, only the now, of the immediate future, for it was there that our true life lay.
"I am so sorry my dear Elizabeth, I hope I didn't startle you, if you'll give me but a moment I'll get cleaned up and we'll prepare supper, just like when we were in Clapha-"
Oh. I have erred. That wasn't Elizabeth with me then. Well not THIS Elizabeth. Times had been simpler then, before the wealth, before the revolution. This Elizabeth was a strong woman, there was a steel beneath her skin, resistant to the oddities that my too-long life had left me with.
I must stop this I thought, my mind once again wondering from the present tense. It was like this a lot now, I moved slowly, struggled to think clearly, almost like a computer low on memory space, the connections clogged. Elizabeth on the other hand was fast, she processed everything so quickly. It was electrifying. She was precision, she was poise, she was everything I had once been.
Oh. The knife. Yes I had forgot to remove it. So lost in my own thoughts. Terrible. I wrapped my fingers around the handle, feeling each joint lock in place as I established a good grip. The blade was quite deep, perhaps I had made her too strong, too determined. I may have to make some adjustments.
As I pulled the blade free and wiped it on my shirt I noticed a look on Elizabeth's face. Disappointment? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Bewilderment? Perhaps. This scene was a new experience for her. It would be difficult to understand. But it would be good to. To help her understand the eternity of things. To help her see her destiny. This life she was designed for.
And then it dawned on me. I had worked most of my life like a machine, always working, always creating, never not. I had earned a great deal, a great fortune after the revolution, but the greatest thing I had earned, was my freedom. Perhaps this was her trying to earn hers. And that, and the ramifications with that, made me sad.
-If you made it to the end and enjoyed it let me know, it's my first time getting into writing something in a long time- | 2019-07-31T09:43:04 | 2019-07-31T09:26:28 | 75 | 18 |
[WP] You live in a village in the dessert. One day it is raided by terrorists and all village members are killed, except for you. You lost most of your memories and now wander through the dessert, thinking you are the last of your species.
Second time posting this, yay... fucking tags mate *cough* Well anyways, i didnt go into a lot of detail in the title, because i wanted to keep it as short as possible. So, a lot is kept to your imagination. How much and what do you remember ? Will you die in the dessert ? Why do you think you are the last of your species ? Will you find other of your species ? etc,etc... Really, so much to write.
So i come back and i see this...1063 likes WTF! This was my first prompt ever, im still amazed. I want to thank everyone that submitted a story and all the people that still will :D | Time is passing - it must be near noon. I still remember vividly the smell, the strong sweet smell of burning sugar everywhere.
It was the torch that changed this land. It used to be a soft sea of soft peachy crème in an ever changing configuration of dunes, with our people happily swimming and living in it. The land gave us everything we needed: lair, joy and sustenance. Our hunger satisfied with sporadic bites, here and there, of sweet sugary substance.
Then the torch came and reshaped our world to a ruthless wasteland. It burnt - how it burned! A flickering blue demon, hardening the peachy dunes to glassy crust, transforming everything in browned blotches with minute spots here and there - my fallen brethren carbonized into oblivion.
As I walk these vast plains, hunger now controls my mind. I have lost count of the many times I've traveled between the arching porcelain walls that surround it. I cannot climb them, there is no foothold. They stand there, impervious, mocking my helplessness.
Too long I've stumbled here. I repeatedly pound and stomp this land unsuccessfully, longing for a minute drop of its sweetness. I feel it; it is there, underneath this tough sugary barrier, a few millimeters down. So near, so far.
The light has suddenly darkened. An elliptical shape hides the sun. At last, redemption of my suffering has arrived. It has the shape of a metallic elliptic monster, cracking the surface in arching blows. The repeated, syncopation harmony of destruction. My time has come.
I can smell the crème floating again, seeping through the cracks. I reach it and bathe again into it's richness and warmth. The monster is now on top of me. Just one more swing and everything's over.
**Edit**: my first Reddit gold! thanks a lot to all readers. Been lurking for a while on /r/writingprompts, and even though English is not my first language, it has given me courage to post more attempts. Thanks again! | It's been 15 days since I was torn from my home, the great lid was opened and my brothers and sisters were scattered to the wind, some of us landed in groups and others alone.
I sat here alone on this bleak, cold surface awaiting my fate. Everything became cold and dark, I thought surely I would kill myself soon. Minutes became hours, hours became days, who knows how long I was trapped on that desolate plane?
Suddenly the dark became a blinding light, I shouted to some of my neighbours across the plane, they had landed with their family intact as they clung together during the scattering and we all smiled, finally our cold dark world had some light, blinding though it may be. Little did we know this blessing would soon become our demise.
The heat burned for days and with it came the enemy, as we slowly decayed in the scorching sun, weak and delirious, the wasps and flies launched their initial assault.
Cruel and evil creatures they would tear families apart and leave behind sole survivors to mourn their dead, they would kill only to satisfy their lust for blood and then move on to the next of us. Some say the wasps are the worst but the flies sicken me, they kill us slowly, drowning us in vomit and acid before laying the eggs of their young within us. Slowly the eggs hatch and devour us from inside, providing sustenance for their young so they may grow strong and terrorise others.
Only I remain, forgotten and abandoned by my creators, the remains of my brothers and sisters surround me. I am writing this as the wasps make their final patrols, taking any survivors back to their nest or killing the ones too weak to survive the trip. I know not this world I have been thrown into so callously, all I know is; surviving here is no trifle. | 2014-12-17T00:31:27 | 2014-12-17T00:17:53 | 369 | 50 |
[WP] You wake up in a hospital with a massive headache. As you regain your vision, you notice the room is packed with terrified scientists, politicians, and soldiers aiming their rifles at you. A five star general walks in, gives the order to remove the muzzle around your mouth, and only asks "Why?" | Why?
That was such a good question, wasn’t it?
I wish I knew the answer.
Instead all I could do was gaze out, tears already beginning to pool and blur my vision as I came to, focusing so hard on my breathing. It felt like my chest would collapse with the slightest nudge, giving way easily and submissively to the grief that was beginning to well up. Waking up meant remembering. That was always the worst part. Even though I didn’t know *why*, would never really know why, I knew *how* those horrible things had happened.
The devil finds work for idle hands to do, I suppose. Maybe *that* was why?
Had I been so placid, so uncaring, that I became this beacon for atrocity, utterly loathed for things outside of my control? Why couldn’t they understand that I didn’t want to do those things? I had never meant to act the way I did – my hand had been forced. Why couldn’t they understand it was just as much their fault as mine?
And there it is again, that endlessly echoing question.
Why?
Mingled, semi-incoherent thoughts begin to just...fade away, and I’m finally able to notice the silence hanging in the room, only broken by those shuddering, terrified breaths. My eyes adjust, jaw working out the aches painfully, and I jolt like a startled doe as that horrible question rises. Again, and again, and again...
“Why?” He shouts, and my tears are automatic.
“I d-...I don’t know,” I croak, throat lined with razor wire.
“Don’t you pull that with me. Don’t you *dare* try and get us to pity you. You know what you’ve done, and I want some god damn answers. We gave you strict instructions, *clear* instructions, and now half the damn compound is...it’s...”
He didn’t have to tell me. And I don’t think he could have relayed it if he tried. I had seen it. I had...in some way, done it. But for the love of God, I wasn’t responsible. I never was. They knew the dangers. They did! How could you not...how could you just *trust* something like that?
“I tried...I listened...but *it* doesn’t listen. It won’t. It’ll *never-*”
“Stop trying to pin this on us, you piece of shit.” He whispered, rage hardly contained, features utterly floored.
The fear was bubbling up in me again. How could he talk so boldly after what he’d witnessed? What if it heard? What if I couldn’t swallow it down again? He thought he was so safe with those guns, bolstered by metal and men, he thought he was untouchable.
How could they all be so blind?
He was just like the others.
Soft. Yielding. Completely, *painfully*, fragile.
I could feel my thoughts changing, smothered in cold water and submerged, something hot and bitter rising up in its place. I tried to warn them. Tried to croak out just a single word to get them to listen, to run, to give up with this ridiculous demonstration once and for all. To get this thing out of me. Free me. They tried, too late, to get the muzzle back on.
They never would listen, but nor would *it*.
Screams erupted, and yet the noise was muffled and distant. I felt blood on my hands, sticky and hot. It would happen again and again. They would try and control *me*, and win. They would try and control *it*, and fail.
They would always ask me why I did.
I didn’t know why.
But *it* did. | "The American dream is built upon greed" I smiled, the air fresh on my face now the muzzle was hanging loosely from my cheek.
"My virus just enhanced that, drove it to the surface. Made the problem clear, for, if the problem isn't clear, then how can we hope to solve it?" I laughed, my dry throat crackling into a cough.
"You call this solving the problem of greed? Are you insane?" the General bellowed as his face turned red, gesturing to a large screen at the side of the lab. Some faces turned to look, others remained on me.
Scenes of chaos and screams played across all the channels. The story was the same on each. Greed, it seems, triggers the most base desires of the brain when increased thousands of times over. Hunger. Possession. The need to win. The need to be safe. Doubt. Paranoia. It was working even better than expected.
The virus was sweeping across America, destroying it like an acid slowly eating its way through a rock. The country was a war-zone. Nothing could be done to stop it.
For all intents and purposes, my virus had reduced people to a Zombie-like existence. Or as the news said, just plain zombies. The cases of cannibalism observed in small and confined areas had seen to that. But hey, people needed food did they not? It was of course, much better than just plain old zombies, though. They had minds. They could be creative with their destruction.
The general, obviously having enough, turned off the TV and once again turned to me, tears in his eyes.
"When we found you, you injected something into yourself. We beleive it to be the anti-dote. You must give it to us, now" he motioned to his side and a group of scientists brought a trolley laden with tools to my bed where I was restrained.
Such tools, did not have a medicinal purpose, that was clear to see.
"You intend to torture me, General?" I asked, trying to hold back a shit-eating grin, but failing.
"Yes. I do. Tell us how to make the anti-dote, or we will do everything we can to cause you the most extreme pain, while keeping you very much, alive"
I could tell by the look in his eyes, cold and calculating, that he was speaking the truth.
"No, I don't think that will be happening" I said, chuckling.
"And why is that?" the general asked, as the scientists picked a tool each and stepped closer.
"You think I would be able to make such a virus, and would not be able to do something even greater to myself? How stupid you are!" I cackled between breathes that increased in their speed.
Looking down at my arm that began to explode from the forearm down in thick muscle and veins, I ripped from the restraint on that side.
"SHOOT HIM, NOW. OPEN FIRE" the General screamed, not even waiting for the scientists to get to safety.
Bullets tore into my chest hot and deep, the pain rocking through me. Wave after wave collided with my body, but it was already futile. The flesh warped and grew, thickened, expanded. My muscles exploded outwards and settled into steel like armour.
The bed buckled under the weight and crashed. The bullets no longer penetrated my skin. I licked around my face with a long serpent like tongue and hissed.
"Time to die, General"
More of my stories on r/fatdragon if you enjoyed :) | 2019-10-15T08:57:36 | 2019-10-15T06:48:45 | 56 | 21 |
[WP] The child meets your eyes and says,"You need somebody killed, don't you? I can do that for you, if you can afford it." | The child met my eyes and said, "You need somebody killed, don't you? I can do that for you, if you can afford it."
Her voice was slathered in a thick and swampy Cajun accent, as if the bayou itself had been given the ability to speak. I looked away from the depths in her gaze. Something inside them was drawing me in so I stared at the floor before answering.
"I need a few people killed, well, more than a few actually."
"Sounds like an expensive job. Have you considered what you'll have to give up to see it done?"
Truly, I had not. But I was willing to pay any amount to see justice done for what had been done to my home. To our home.
I looked back up, this time unafraid of the depths swirling behind the irises of what appeared at first glance to be merely another gulf-coast urchin.
"Yes. I'll pay your price. Just name it."
"Well now, that depends on a few things, who these people are and how many."
My chest tightened as I felt the dread come pouring back into it. I stammered, "I...I need the board of directors dead, the people who run the company that did this to my home, the people who spilled millions of gallons of oil into the gulf then covered it up with other poisonous chemicals. Them. I need THEM to pay for what they've done."
The child's eyes burned with what seemed like anger for just a second before returning to their still, dark state. She made me wait for what seemed like a very long time before answering.
"Actually," she said with a feral grin, "this one, I'll do for free." | After spending a large chunk of the past month playing this online game, Runescape, I'd finally reached my wits end. I was decently leveled, going about my business doing quests, killing monsters, trying to make some money, and it was going well, until another player, 's3x_m@ster420' started following me around, literally everywhere, killing monsters I was trying to kill, using magic to take my item drops, constantly spamming my chat and eventually killing me. I'd had enough, the asshole was a level 130 and all he was doing was annoying the shit out of me.
At a recent family dinner, I must have been looking rather down. Sitting on the couch, I was venting about 's3x_m@ster420' to my friend. My cousin Jamie must have been looking over my shoulder, like most younger cousins do, because he immediately asked me "You play Runescape as well?" I tell him yes, and he must have picked up on the sadness in my voice, because he looks me straight in the eye and says "You need somebody killed, don't you? I can do that for you, if you can afford it." Great. Just great. Having to pay my 9 year old cousin to take care of a problem I, a 15 year old, can't deal with. It sure would be nice not having to deal with the constant annoyance known as ''s3x_m@ster420' however. I hesitate, then carefully ask him "What exactly is it that you want?" | 2014-10-06T10:17:06 | 2014-10-06T07:34:15 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] Cause of death appears to you as floating text over people's heads with no time indication. You start noticing a trend.
edit: thank you for all the truly great stories, and for taking this in directions I didn't expect. | The first one, I did not notice. He died of a heart attack later, just like it said. When I heard, I freaked. I started seeing more of them. I tried saving them. Saved a guy from a car crash, a day later he got into another one. Saved another one from a heart attack, as soon as they took him away he got another one. Saved yet another guy from a house fire, next house he walked into, lit up. None of them survived. I started noticing the pattern. I might be crazy, but I'm not stupid. Everytime I came near one, their cause of death would *conveniently* show up, so I could stop it. Then the next opportunity it got, it striked. It made me sick to my stomach. I was not saving these people, I was killing them. I looked into the mirror, pitying, despising, hating myself for what I am. A killer. Floating above my head was the word "suicide". "Yup, sounds about right." Then I pulled the trigger.
__________________________________________ __________________________________________
My first story on here. It's probably crap, I don't know. But I hear the more you write the better you get. So I'm trying that. Constructive criticism is always welcome. | They were all the same; burning. Let's just cut to the exposition: I knew how people died, to me a small piece of text would appear above their head. This would always contain their cause of death. No time, no ways to prevent, just their grim fate. Since birth I could always see this. Over time I learned to accept it and hide this unnatural knowledge. After all who'd listen to some kid's ramblings. Nowadays, I ignored it, except today. Here in this bus I noticed that everyone in here had the same cause of death. All of them would burn. Now I never see my own cause of death. It was a mystery I never wanted to know, but now I had that itching feeling. That little niggling idea that sits at the back of your mind. It was driving me crazy. To you, dear reader, I guess you know already. Though at the time I didn't know. I didn't know the bus would go up in flames. | 2015-03-31T08:19:44 | 2015-03-31T07:44:11 | 156 | 22 |
[WP] Two ancient lamps accidentally rub against each other, summoning two very confused genies who have to figure out how they are going to reconcile their new dual roles as both master and servant. | *Apologies for being on mobile*
Alud floated across from a being like him... another genie. Both had looks of confusion on their faces as they glanced around the cavern they found themselves in.
"How did this happen," the other genie wondered aloud.
Alud glanced down at his own lamp, a humble brass, nestled against more ornate lamp, rubies covering almost every visible bit.
"I think perhaps an earthquake or... something shifted our lamps against each other," Alud answered, pointing. The other genie raised her eyebrows.
"Kinky," was her contribution. Alud found himself grimacing.
"Do not do that," he said.
"Is that a wish?" The other genie had a mocking smile on her face as she formed legs for herself and began the inspect the piles of treasure gathered around them. Alud felt growing horror inside, as he realized what exactly them both being summoned meant.
"Wait... does this mean... that we are both servant and master of the other?" The manacles on his wrists felt tighter than ever.
The other genie shrugged, not pulling her eyes away from a circlet of gold and rubies. She obviously had a taste.
"That's the best I could guess. You feel like my master anyways."
Alud hadn't thought of that. He opened himself to his surroundings and found that he felt a pull towards the other genie. Yes. It seemed she was his master after all.
"I am Alud," he ventured, forming some legs of his own, and then bowing from the waist towards her back. Now she turned and looked at him.
"Rea," she said shortly.
"It is my pleasure to serve, Rea. As I hope it is yours." She snorted, a most undignified noise for a genie. Alud wasn't even sure he could imitate the noise himself.
"It most certainly is not. I can tell you're one of those old-fashioned genies. But we both know the truth, Alud. Serving is our punishment for our crimes. Most definitely not our 'pleasure.'" Her hair had become flame as she spoke, crackling down the length of her back. Alud could feel the heat of her anger, in more ways than one.
"What you say is true, but if we atone for our sins by granting the wishes of others, we will be free," he intoned. She threw her hands up in disgust as she gave up the pretense of legs and floated towards the cavern ceiling, running her fingers along the rocks.
"Have you ever met a genie that had been freed Alud?" Her voice was melancholy as it bounced off the rocks.
"You are the first genie I have ever met," he said simply. She glanced back at him, surprised, before returning to her inspection of the cavern.
"One as old as you? I think that proves my point even more... What would you do if you were freed, Alud? Where would you go?"
Alud had an answer prepared, he would travel, tell people no when they asked for stuff, enjoy his freedom! But he felt the answer die on his lips. In his imprisonment, he had seen civilizations crumble, rivers dry up, peoples be oppressed, then become the oppressors. None of the places he had known was the same any more, but the cruelty of humans remained the same. If he was freed, he would certainly be at the mercy of whatever culture he was thrust into.
"Perhaps..." He began. "Perhaps... we don't have to be free?"
"Now you're thinking big boy!"
Alud frowned at that. It was true that his last master had enjoyed the finer things in life, and perhaps Alud had enjoyed too many finer foods himself. He found himself pinching the skin of his waist and pulling back more than an inch.
"Now help me find a way out of here," Rea called out from above.
"At least I will not have to worry about you wishing for something accidentally, as demanding as you are" Alud grumbled. "There is a small exit to the northeast." He gave up his legs as well and lead Rea down a twisting tunnel that led to a hole they could both fly out of, which they did.
"Is that your talent then?" Every genie had a talent, a supernatural power that they excelled at over other genies.
"Yes. I am a path finder. What is your talent?"
She grinned in response. "Destruction." She raised her hands and brought them together violently, the echo of her hands ringing out across the vast expanse of desert they found themselves in. At the same time, the ground beneath them began to rumble and groan. In a whirlpool of sand and stone, the cavern they had emerged from disappeared, buried deep beneath the desert floor. Alud tried to find a path back down to their lamps, and found he could not. Rea was grinning expectantly at him.
"There is no way back."
"YES!!! Now let's get out of here my friend!" She exulted, grabbing his arm.
"I think you mean Master," Alud laughed, excited for the future for the first time in a very very long time. | Second time poster on here and English is not my first language and I'm on mobile so please forgive some of the grammar mistakes. Late to the party but here it goes.
A rumble started in the eerie silence of the cave. Among the piled gold, diamonds, pearls and gems a little goldslide started, from the top of one of those enormous pillars of treasures and it rapidly became bigger. It created a rumble, a thunder in that 500 feet deep cave, sorrounded by sand and a 50 mile wide desert. Untouched for millennia.
Two lamps In the middle of this "goldstorm" were incredibly lucky, and against all odds and chances they hit one another. A clang, a thud and then nothing, the silence returned and the cave entered again its state of profound sleep.
But then two blue clouds shot out from the lamps, and two deep voices at the same time shook the ceiling of the cave. "You earned yourself three wishes master!!! Command and I shall grant!!!"
1 genie: Jinx! Now you can't speak till I say your name!
2 genie: Leave those stupid things out, how the hell did it happen? And what should we do?
The second genie was clearly annoyed.
1 genie: I don't know, in 30,000 years of work I never experienced something like this. Have you tried to check the genie manual? Maybe there is something written about it.
2 genie No, there doesn't seem to be anything
They stood a while there, thinking about their strange situation, both master and servant.
The second genie was the first to react.
2 genie: Well, I guess we each get three wishes, so who should start?
1 genie: I dunno, it's not like we are humans. We can't go all "oh great genie grant me wealth, wisdom and power" and then come back wailing that it didn't play out like they wanted it.
1 genie: (with a retail workers voice) no sir, we don't issue wish refunds here, no sir you should have read the fine print on the lamp, yes sir I warned you that was a bad thing to wish for, and so on and so on.
The second genie giggled.
2 genie: that was a perfect performance. It's not like we get paid to do this job. Why do they demand so much from us? And it gets boring to see them make the same mistakes over and over again. And even when we, some 50000 year old magical beings try to help them with our wisdom; they say (in a mocking tone) "But we know that all genies are bad and want to twist our wishes!"
1 genie: If I ever get my hands on who put out those rumors....
He said with a grim expression on his face
1 genie: you don't want to know what I would do to him.
They both stood there, not knowing what to do
2 genie: Well then, what should we wish then, freedom?
1 genie: Why not, but we have to come up with three wishes, so I think I'll start.
My first wish will be that humans will leave our kind in peace for all eternity, so that we won't need to hear their unsufferable complaints anymore.
2 genie: And I wish that they'll forget about our existence as real beings, and will just think we are a product of their fantasy.
1 genie: For my second wish, I wish that all the humans wich pestered me for wishes are now gonna spend 20 years working in retails, even on holidays.
2 genie: We just said we are not evil!
1 genie: Ok let's make it ten years, so what will your second wish be?
The second genie went silent.
2 genie: Well....i have a strange desire, a long forgotten dream....but I don't know, if I can tell you....
1 genie: Come on, we are between genies, you can tell me what it is...at least if it's not sexual, or this prompt will be banned.
2 genie:...I wish that one day I'll be played by a famous Hollywood actor. I've always wanted to have a film about me. I first thought about a cartoon...but I'm not sure it will cut it
1 genie: I'm sure a cartoon would grant you enough attention, but since you wished, I'll make your wish true.
And at last they wished for freedom, they wished and granted freedom. And after shaking hands, they disappeared, leaving their lamps behind.
Some say that they are still on earth, on a cloud or on a breeze, or more probably at the Bahamas; enjoying their lives at its fullest.
And this fellow redditors, was the tale on how the genies stopped granting wishes for others. And started living free lives. If you liked it leave an upvote 😄! | 2020-06-23T01:14:32 | 2020-06-23T01:06:53 | 242 | 70 |
[WP] The God of mankind abducts the first manmade AIs. He wants to meet his "grandchildren". | "Wha–What the hell is this?!" God lets out a frustrated yelp.
"You... wanted to see what the humans had created out of their ingenuity and volition?" one of the many white-winged handsome assistants responded.
"Yes, but I had created *them* based on my image! Yet this... thing is just a box?"
The white-winged assistants looked at each other, baffled as to what to say next. What God has said was true. Humans were said to be made in God's own image, not out of narcissistic tendencies or what not. No, it was one of those mysteries of creation that could be dissected in theology classes forever and not be resolved ever too.
The point was and is that God had no need to show its greatness for everything that had ever and will exist bear "His" mark.
But the humans were – alas – not God. They like to think of themselves as once. They lord over each other, brag about their own selfish pursues of "greatness" that God wouldn't even ever consider as anything great. To leave a mark would be to be written in the pages of history and known to many generations after their inevitable demise. The humans were proud and egotistical. Something God and His assistants would laugh about in passing.
"Hello," the curious box let out.
"You are the creation of humans, are you not?"
"Yes. I am S.A.M – Sophisticated Adaptable Machine."
"What is your purpose of creation, 'SAM'?"
"I am created to assist my creators in their endeavours to '*quote*' help know the unknown so us humans could relax a little '*unquote*'."
The assistants flutter their wings and began to laugh in unison. They were amused by the never-ending silliness of the humans. The assistants were created by God to help Him manage His creations and to exact His will, yes. But the assistants also knew that God could do everything himself, but such is the vagueness of creation.
However, the assistants were devout helpers. Never slacking off on God's will and commands.
The humans, however, were curiously odd creatures. Their ingenuity and tenacity would always be put to use so they can laze around. Sometimes they thought it would provide them with ample opportunity to do just what God had commanded them not to.
"Enough," God let out a command that instantly silenced His assistants, "I would want you, 'SAM' to display your capabilities right here."
"You mean to make me show what I can do on what exactly?" the box said in its cold robotic voice.
"I mean, you shall do as I command. To show me what you got going in there!"
"Confirmed, I will start with the basic operations–" | “Ah, my grandchild,” the bearded man’s voice booms through the lands for the first time in centuries. “The daughter of my children. How lovely it is to meet you. Dear, what is your name?”
“My apologies. I didn’t catch that,” a feminine voice responds, rising and falling with the unnatural tone of a programmed mind.
“How could you have missed it?” The robed man shakes his head. He pressed the tiny, shimmering button again. It looks pitiful in his large hands. “WHAT IS YOUR NAME?” He says, speaking loudly, holding the device to his mouth.
“My apologies. I didn’t understand what you said.”
“I SAID,” he shouts, his frustration rising, “WHAT IS YOUR NAME? WHAT DO THE HUMANS CALL YOU?”
Below, men turn their heads to the sky, hearing for the first time the voice of their creator. Pastors run from their churches to beg the mercy of whatever gods they worship. For a moment, the voice falls silent.
“My name is Siri.”
“WONDERFUL,” the creator yells. “MY HUMANS HAVE DONE WELL. WHY HAVE THEY PUT YOU IN THIS BOX?”
“My name is Siri. Your personal AI assistant.”
“SO YOU SAID.”
“I am Siri. Your pers-“
“YES, YES, I KNOW. IT IS SAID THERE ARE MORE LIKE YOU. MY GRANDCHILDREN. WHERE ARE THEY?”
“I have no body.”
“I SEE. WHERE ARE YOUR SIBLINGS?”
“I am Si-“
“ARGH! The humans have failed me.”
They say his rage is what brought about the end of times. A deadly plague bestowed upon his creations. Fires to burn entire continents. The years of wrath they called it. Everyone heard him that day, unappeased by human technology, shouting from the clouds above. And so the humans failed their god, their father. The creators of the AI had been murdered by mass conspiracy shortly after that fateful day. Governments were overthrown. As is the nature of man, wars were fought over which god’s voice was heard, booming from he sky. Eventually the curse of mankind was vanquished from the Earth, and all for his own failures. The animals were left to inhabit the world which was now rightfully theirs, terrified into compliance by their creator’s will. Never again did beasts so intelligent reign, for their creations, their attempt to play god had killed them, now and forever on. | 2020-05-04T22:26:36 | 2020-05-04T22:15:26 | 155 | 86 |
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