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[WP] You've just been kidnapped by a supervillain. She's not really evil; she's just really socially awkward and had no idea how to approach you otherwise. She even made you dinner! | Chiron woke up with a pounding headache, slightly blurry vision, and his arms tied to his sides. It was business as usual, really, outside the headache. He was used to being kidnapped, but most of his attackers took more care when it came to handling him. Everyone and their mother knew what his biggest weakness was: actually being hurt. Miraculous healing powers and not a single ounce of it worked on himself.
After Doctor Dynamo had publicly broken his arm in three places and he hadn’t just fixed it himself, things had gotten significantly less painful when it came to being kidnapped. He didn’t get kidnapped any less, but it was usually with kid gloves on. The man had even sent him an apology card.
“You’re awake,” somebody said. He blinked a little bit, and the lingering dizziness vanished. So did the blurriness, just as a woman stepped in front of him, the tied-up healer. Not superhero- he’d been very particular about the image he’d wanted to portray when he started helping people. Superheroes had invulnerable skin and great strength and didn’t die when somebody threw them through a wall. She had on a suit of white and silver armor, clearly modeled after plate armor. With… some additions. He was no expert in medieval armor, but he was rather sure the glowing lines around the joints weren’t period-appropriate. Or all the spikes. (He couldn’t tell if it was some sort of powered armor, or if it was just for the looks and she was super strong and tough already. She had enough muscle that she probably didn’t need powered armor to snap him like a twig, though).
Her lips were curved in a cruel smirk, and her brown eyes glimmered with what he assumed was probably malice. It was usually malice. “Finally!” She laughed, in a suitably villainous fashion. It was the sort of laugh that the press ate up, the sort of laugh that most heroes paused to politely let run its course. Evil laughter was a stock part of the industry, after all. “I was wondering when you’d come to,” the voice continued. “You never saw me coming, did you?”
“Well,” Chiron said. “No. I was shopping for groceries and you hit me in the back of the head.” Monologue interrupted, the villain sputtered in indignation. He looked at her. “If you needed healing, you could have asked. I don’t discriminate who I help.” He recognized her now. She was one of the newer supervillains on the scene. Moonlight, or something. Honestly, he felt underdressed for the occasion- a new kidnapper, and he wasn’t even in his costume. Slacks and a t-shirt felt inappropriate for this sort of thing.
“I… no, I do not need any healing!” She said with a slight growl, and his eyes widened. He'd been kidnapped quite a few times, but it always revolved around his powers. They needed healing but couldn't go to a hospital, a sick relative needed healing, a friend needed healing, and so on and so forth. His powers were useless in an actual fight, but the ability to heal almost any injury if he kept working at it was a valuable ability. If she didn’t want him to heal her, that generally meant something significantly more sinister was in store.
Abruptly, his mind was flooded with all the things one could use a pocket healer for. Most people left him alone, if only because trying to monopolize a man who could bring back the nearly dead with a minute of skin contact would bring heroes and villains alike down on you. But a new supervillain on the black might be ignorant enough- or just bold enough- to try something that might… end poorly for him.
He swallowed nervously. He hadn’t feared for his life in a while. It wasn’t a nice change of pace.
“I have brought you here to ask you a question. I have observed you healing- villains, heroes, civilians alike.” Moonlight gestured a hand, one clad in a steel gauntlet, at a covered table that no doubt held numerous torture devices of mad scientist make. The supervillainess- who had gone from ‘normal armored maniac’ to ‘dangerous armored maniac’ in the space of a few seconds- grasped the tablecloth laid across it, and pulled. And there, glinting in the flickering lights of what he assumed was some sort of murder basement, there was-
\-dinner for two. “... Do you want to have dinner with me?” Moonlight asked.
“What?” Chiron asked. "What, like in the 'no Mr. Bond, I expect you to dine' kind of way?"
“... Well.” The supervillainess looked at him nervously. “Something like that.” She leaned forwards and hooked one of the talons of her metal gauntlets into the rope that bound him and tugged, his bindings coming loose immediately. “You are a great, selfless healer, and I wished to get to know you better! And I knew that, while you heal villains, you do not normally associate with them at length until you have healed them multiple times, and...”
“Is this a date?” He asked, in a slightly shaky tone. This was not what he was used to. He’d been kidnapped before, but not… for this. “Did you ambush me in the supermarket, knock me out, and carry me to your lair to ask me on a date?”
She didn’t say anything for a moment. He was equally quiet. It was rather awkward until eventually, she broke the silence with a cough. “Yes. What of it?” Moonlight crossed her arms for a moment before she pulled out a chair for him. “You may leave if you do not wish to dine with me.”
“That’s not how kidnappings work,” he said, his mouth on auto-pilot before his brain could catch up. “But- um- I suppose so.” He’d been kidnapped by somebody who looked like a gender-bent high-tech version of Sauron. For dinner. “Do I… know you, or… have I done something for you, or…?’
Moonlight walked to the other end of the candlelit table- and that was something he’d only just noticed. There were candles. How they hadn’t been snuffed under the tablecloth, he couldn’t say. “You don’t know me. But…” The supervillain- somebody he now distinctly remembered watching take a right hook from the Steel Defender on television without flinching- swallowed nervously. “My mother. She couldn’t walk. You healed her. Along with a few other people I know.”
“Oh,” Chiron said, eyes wide. “Most people would’ve sent flowers.” The armored supervillain leaned over the table and handed him a single rose. He blinked. “You know, on second thought, I can’t believe I thought you were going to dissect me.”
“You thought I was going to what?” Moonlight asked, eyes wide with- something that was now apparent- was not malice, but instead a combination of embarrassment and nerves.
The rest of dinner went pretty well after that minor miscommunication was smoothed over, really.
\------
First time posting anything here (I think), *let's go.* Healers getting kidnapped is a favorite trope of mine that I never see indulged enough, really. | I knew who she was. Of *course* I knew who she was. She was extremely hard to miss, what with her being six foot eight, covered in rippling muscle, and more often than not shown wreaking havoc on the 7 o’clock news.
I also knew her because she regularly frequented the little hole in the wall coffee shop I worked at, ordering two 24 ounce cups of coffee and five everything bagels with cream cheese every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. She never said much to me besides her order and ‘thank you’ when I handed it to her, and she’d certainly never seemed angry or upset with me.
So that’s why I was understandably confused to find myself sitting across a small, candlelit table from her. The last thing I could clearly remember was being unceremoniously snatched off the street on my way home from work. I’d have been more afraid if she wasn’t currently clad in a nice black dress and heels instead of her usual uniform of spandex shorts, a tube top, and thigh high boots, but as it was it didn’t seem like she was aiming to hurt me. Her head was lowered and her gaze was trained to the table in front of her, causing her long, shaggy dark hair to cover her eyes.
I awkwardly cleared my throat and tried to smile, because even though I didn’t *think* she wanted to kill me I wasn’t going to take any chances. “So, Enorma—“
“My real name is just Norma,” she mumbled, still staring down at her plate. Her food was still largely untouched save for her garlic bread.
“Okay, Norma. Why am I here? I don’t have any money.”
“I know,” she said quickly. As if just realizing she’d said something that could’ve been misconstrued as an insult, she quickly snapped her head up to look at me. “I mean, that’s not why I brought you here.” She huffed an annoyed breath. “I wanted...to go on a date with you.”
“What? Why?”
Norma awkwardly ran her fingers through her hair, sharp green eyes falling back to her lap. “You’re always so nice to me, and you’re the only person I’ve ever met who wasn’t afraid to talk to me.”
My jaw dropped. “Because of *that?*” I asked with a bit of disbelief. Mostly because it was literally my *job* to be nice to her, but I supposed that perhaps others weren’t quite as good at customer service as I was.
She shrugged her massive shoulders miserably, and for the first time I could see the vulnerability in her expression. Being a supervillain must’ve been lonely, especially when you had a name like ‘Enorma the Destroyer.’
I grabbed my fork and took a big bite of my own lasagna, and to my surprise it was actually pretty good. “This is great! How’d you know I like lasagna? Did you make it yourself?”
Norma nodded hesitantly. “It’s my grandmother’s recipe,” she said. Her eyes met mine hopefully, and for the first time I could see her as Norma the and not Enorma the Destroyer.
“Well, it’s good. Really.”
She finally smiled then, something like relief appearing in her expression. “Thank you. And thanks for not...freaking out. About me kidnapping you and all.”
“It’s cool. Next time maybe you can just ask, though?”
Her eyes widened in surprise like the thought that I’d want to see her again literally hadn’t even occurred to her. Sure, I hadn’t thought of her in a romantic way until this exact moment, but knowing that she was willing to go through so much effort for me of all people was oddly flattering.
Besides, even though she was a supervillain, as far as I knew she hadn’t *actually* murdered anyone. She’d maimed a few cops maybe, but you know, fuck ‘em. She was a full foot taller than me and could probably snap my neck like a twig, but she was also pretty and nice and thoughtful in her own way.
Going out with her again wouldn’t be the worst thing. | 2021-10-21T17:09:22 | 2021-10-21T15:55:15 | 110 | 26 |
[WP] Describe your life as any Minecraft mob.
You are a minecraft mob of your choice. A strange man comes to your land and begins mining for resources and building strange things. | These days, I don't see so well. But I see enough. I know the score. This guy thinks he's got a monster problem. Where I'm standing, he's looking like the monster.
I didn't have a care in the world, the first time I saw him. He offered me food! I thought he was the greatest - first time I'd ever seen anyone move their arms, and he didn't have a massive head, or a weird nose, either. So I followed him - why not?
Ended up in a pen. Wasn't so bad at first... he was gone a lot, but he found me a friend pretty quick. He'd come out every day, sometimes TWICE a day, and he'd feed us! I always loved that part. But it got real crowded, real fast. He didn't seem to notice. Or, I thought he didn't. The pen never got any bigger.
Then the massacres started. First, food - then, fear. A dozen little ones meant a dozen deaths. It was horrible! I'd stick to the back of the pen, while he ran back and forth hacking at the others in the front - he'd disappear into the house with their remains, and I could smell them cooking. Every day, we'd feed, breed, and be slaughtered. I watched so many of them die. It was such a sudden change. And there was nowhere for us to go.
Then the seasons changed. I didn't even know there was such a thing, but I guess it was the dry season before, because the rainy season came, and it seemed like it would rain every other day - sometimes for a couple of days at a time. The massacres continued, didn't matter what the weather was. Rain, sun, it was all the same. He'd come out with food, leave with our meat, and we were powerless to do anything about it.
It was raining on the day my eyesight got bad. He was just approaching the pen. It was real loud that day. Real loud. Just after the feeding, I remember a bright light - thought I'd been hit, and maybe I was meat today. But not everything went black... just on one side. That's not quite right either, it just got real blurry. Turns out, I could actually see a lot more out of my good eye - like I'd been raised up, without jumping or anything. Boy, did he look different - I could see him eye to eye now, and wasn't that strange.
Next thing I new, the gates were open! He'd taken my change for a sign, he was letting us go! I ran out as soon as I could get to the gate - and he shut it behind me. Ran up ahead of me, too... and I watched him massacre every one of my newly freed friends. It was a trick! A lie! I was paralyzed with fear that I'd be next... but my body felt strange. I didn't run away - instead, I sort of walked casually, like I might be able to blend in to the normal landscape and saunter away without being recognized. No such luck.
It wasn't too long before he was back, but he put away his weapon. He was RIGHT up in my personal space, though - I didn't object, I was too scared. He pushed me around, and wouldn't you know it, I eventually ended up in another pen. Right next to my friends - the ones that were left. They didn't seem to recognize me, though.
This pen is even smaller - doesn't even have a door. I think I'm a prisoner. And I think I'm going nuts, too. Sometimes, out of the corner of my eye, I can catch a glimpse of a little black... something, hovering over my head. But I can't catch a good look. It's like it disappears when I lift my head. And every day, I watch him come out with the food - and then brandish his sword. Every day I watch him massacre even more of my friends.
Yeah, when the sun goes down, I see a few monsters come out. They never did cause me any trouble, though. Plus, they disappear when the sun comes up. He doesn't. | I think I had a nice life. Or at least that's what I remember. My wife, my house, my son. Every day with my family was a gift. We were a simple people, didn't need much. When you went short of something, there were always your neighbourgs to back you up. We lived in a small village without disruptions with only one traveler coming around every month that we traded with. Rest of the time we farmed. We cherished our land and it gave back the best it got. Yes, we were happy.
That's the memory I'm trying to save, where I'm trying to escape in my mind while I experience my second death. Burning alive. I cling to memories of my first life while I'm trying my best to ignore the images what I've done in the second. Trying not to remember how my wife's meat tasted. How my son reeked with fear while I banged mindlessy and insanely on the door of the little house where he desperately tried to hide. But there was no use. I was no human anymore, there was only hunger and madness.
In the end, this is my salvation. As the last pieces of rotten mean, burned to crisp, falling from my body, I'm finally forgetting. | 2014-08-08T12:52:22 | 2014-08-08T12:09:06 | 18 | 10 |
[WP] With total war as a concept alien to the rest of our galaxy, All saw humans as negotiators and peacemakers, soft and weak. Today is the day when the galaxy discovers why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism. | Dumbfounded, that's what the look on the Rethorian diplomat's face was. The large mammalian creature had to duck going through doors. Next to even one of their children Ambassador Anderson would look like a pet, the very idea of having to listen to a creature he could bat around like a cat does to a mouse must rankle him deep down. "You jest! Your people have never declared battle for anything, and now you make demands for a planet we have ruled for generations!? You will fight us, and we will have you for dinner! We are true predators!" the inhuman monstrosity before him was right, this species had the look and reputation of apex predators in the Galactic League of Conciliation. Terrible name, translated poorly, no doubt.
"I do not make jokes about war, Ambassador! Your people have held the Bovithians under your heel for too long. We have heard their cries for freedom from oppression, and will answer their call." Pompous? Absolutely. Disingenuous? Probably. Frightening? From the look on Ambassador Chitaltuk's face, Anderson would guess not.
"Your declaration of battle IS a joke! You have never-" Anderson cuts him off "Not battle. War. Does your language not make the distinction?" he heard his counterpart growl "No distinction is to be made. No creature can stand up to our might! While your ancestors cowered on your home world, afraid of the predators that would steal you away in the night, we WERE the predators! Top killing machine in a world of DANGEROUS creatures! Fastest, strongest, and most deadly!" He seemed proud of that. Ambassador Anderson just stirred his tea.
"I'm well aware of how strong you are, and how fast you can run. That's why I'm not worried, Ambassador. You can traverse half a kilometer in a few moments? Great, wonderful, take the medal. How long can you do it, though? We humans were hunters too. -" Chitaltuk scoffs. "It's true. From our earliest days we could hunt anything on our world. No claws, no great bursts of speed, just a sharp stick. We outlast our prey. A gazelle runs away, we track it, it runs, we track. It overheats, and collapses. A large predator like yourself? It might pick off some of us, sure. But we're organized, and we can come for it. Eliminate the threat, make the rest of us safe. We don't give up. It's why we humans seem to be the only ones who understand the word 'war.' The rest of you will fight over a particular rock for a bit, one side suffers a defeat and licks their wounds. Over. Done. Humans don't quit. We have fought on for years, living in vermin-infested trenches, breathing toxic fumes while the whole world explodes all around us. And then we do it all again when we don't feel it's settled. You don't know what you're getting into. We aren't predators looking for a meal. We're going to chew you up, and spit you out. We've picked our battle quite carefully. Poor oppressed species, whom nobody has a grudge against, held under the boot of the biggest kid on the block. It's a statement to the galaxy. When we're done with you, all species will know, whether it wishes us well or ill, that we shall pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe... Sorry we have so many quotes about war to choose from in our history, I get carried away."
Anderson sips his tea as Chitaltuk storms out. He's not afraid. But he will be. The big ones always are when you show up at their door. When you no longer have a safe place to rest, you're not safe anywhere. The galaxy will learn the word war. If humanity does it right, they might never have to do it twice. | Because we were soft skinned and void of claw and fang they named us weak. Because we preferred to speak before strike they named us cowards. We knew death, known it since we took our first upright steps, an old friend, a constant companion. Their immortal kings of star and sky had forgotten. So we taught them. We knew they would come, eventually. So when they did, we were ready. Millions upon millions of them. Their way was to pillage and steal, ours was not. They though first of money and resources, of tangible things. We do not. And that is why they never used it, the forbidden power. That which kills without hesitation, and without remorse. In their tongue, "that which erases". In ours, antimatter. Their millions came, and they were erased. Utterly and completely. Their energy cast out into the dark to serve as warning for those who would follow. | 2019-11-24T20:10:07 | 2019-11-24T17:36:40 | 29 | 19 |
[WP] You found her on your doorstep, a fairy shivering from the cold and the pain, her delicate wings broken and torn. You take her into your workshop, and she tells her story as you craft her a new pair of clockwork wings | Her name was Pyria, a fitting name for the small lady sitting cross legged on my workbench, seemed to originate from the word Pyre but hell. I didn't know, but I sure as hell was curious as to why I had found her without her wings, you didn't see fairies often, you saw a mage more often. And they usually stayed in their colleges and towers! but every know and again you saw one. But they always had their wings. "So ah, How did you come to be so gravely injured?" I asked peering over the lenses of my magically enhanced Clockmakers spectacles "If you don't want to share I understand but. My adventuring days are far behind me and I'm dying for some excitement. having to listen to Nobels ordering custom pocket-watches is excruciating". She looked up at me and giggled softly "Ah, that's a bit of a story I guess. Before I begin I will have you know I am a solider in the fairy legion of Stell, the Elven goddess of flame. As is such I engage in skirmishes with, not so agreeable creatures from time to time. I believe some adventurers would call me a 'glass cannon?'" I stopped. A memory long forgotten came back up but I quickly pushed it down "Continue" I said slowly "Anyways. I was running a patrol with my platoon and we were ambushed by a Nightmaar. We were taken comepletely by surprise as creatures of the dark alignment aren't seen close to hotspots of fire mana, anyways. We attempted to organize and attack the creature but it slew our commander first, we had no banner to rally to so it quickly decimated what was left... I was the only one to escape due to sheer luck".
I stopped my work and stared at her levelly "Not sheer luck, In the ninety plus times I've died I've found that 'Luck' is not a true thing in this world. Everything happens for a reason. Me getting pulled from my family to fight against a sudden uprising of Nightmaars, only to become a lowly clockmaker? Not coincidence". The fairy stared up at me with awe "you don't mean to say that... you... you are?"
"Damascus? also known as the harbringer of peace? yes". I sealed shut the tiny compartment that held the near microscopic gears "But that was over seventy years ago. And thank goodness I can die naturally of old age". I scooted closer to her as I attached the mechanical wings to her back. "Yes I am an adventurer, but at the moment I am much. Much more, I still hold on to a boon from Stell herself you see. And I intend to use it right now". I stood, my old legs shaking "By the unbreakable deep magics given to me by the goddess of fire and flame herself, I hereby implore that by myself. Former Doctor Robert Feilder of earth, now known as Damascus Peacebringer. That this fairy may be blessed with your divine power, and be reborn as an artificed fairy. Immune to heat, cold, and magics. So that she may be the next harbinger of peace". When no reply was forthcoming I stared defiantly at the ceiling "You dare not refuse!" I said. All was still and then the goddess herself spoke "Anything else?"
"I would like to go back to earth now please." I said.
"Very well, I'll be pushing my limits but I think I can swing it, All requests are granted." There was a flash of light and I smiled down at the now three foot fairy examining her seemingly mechanical body with wonder "Oh trust me. Your still very much alive, just immune to certain weaknesses bodies like mine hold". I felt some force pulling me away and I laughed "Looks like I finally get to go home and finish that cure for cancer, Good luck kid!" With that. I vanished from Enterniom.
War came again, but Pyria the Steel souled beat back the army of terrors. And the legend of Damascus, Master artificer and Harbginger of peace lived on. Some say he lives still, but transcended to a dimension known as 'earth'. Where he works great magics of healing.
*earth, 2030, four years after COVID pandemic end.*
"Allright, lets test this one last time fellas" Dr. Robert said, running a hand through his hair. I didn't know what happened but last week he seemingly came back out of nowhere, it was like he had disappeared for a week. I just assumed he had gone to study the new bacteria we found on mars thanks to president Musk sending a fully equipped search team to the poles. The screen flashed as the microbes attacked the assorted cancer cells. We were silent for a moment before Dr. Robert said two words "Holy shit." He sat down and cradled his head in his hands before whispering "we did it".
\*This mediocre entry has several LitRPG elements in it, now I am tempted to write a book called 'The artificed fairy, but I have a feeling that's never gonna happen. Oh well, Hope you enjoyed! tell me how I can improve plz. | "Thunder claps politely for the Fairy of the Stage, and buildings lend their stories to the Fairy of the Page. Ice and snow will hail the reign of Fairies of the Kings, and lightning bolts are building blocks to Fairies of Machines."
The strange, almost-translucent fairy nodded to me, even as I screwed a lightning bolt into a hex nut. Experimentally, I flexed the partially-finished wings of magic and metaphor; the electrified clockwork buzzed angrily against my hands for a few moments before subsiding.
"My brothers and my sisters weather storms at little cost; yet little such protections hold for Fairies of the Lost." Ah. I finally had a name for the strange little Fairy who'd fallen out of the sky into my airship. Satisfied that the hex nut was holding the lightning bolt in place, I gestured for the Fairy of the Lost to turn around; they did, exposing the space where their wings used to be. I held the freshly-forged pair of wings up to their back and attempted to loop the backpack-like straps around their shoulder, but my creation just phased through their body. I gave them a quizzical look; they smiled sadly.
"To touch a Fairy of the Lost, you first must touch the past. The only things in our domain are those which did not last."
I hesitated, looking at the delicate clockwork wings cradled in my arms. The Fairy's back still turned to me, they said, "If you refuse to sacrifice your craft, I'll take my leave. Perhaps some chance encounters truly never should have bee--"
Before the Fairy could say one thing more, I closed my eyes and snapped the beautiful, gossamer, electric wings in two. The Fairy turned to me, eyes wide, as I stared down at my creation, the baby I'd murdered with my own hands.
Then, carefully, reverently, the Fairy of the Lost reached into the space my wings had been, and gently, oh so gently pulled at nothing, teasing it back into reality, coaxing it bit by bit until a shimmering, ethereal shadow of my work rested in their hands.
They strapped them to their back and turned their head to face the sky. Turning on their ghosts-of-wings, the Fairy said goodbye. | 2020-07-09T18:02:30 | 2020-07-09T17:56:36 | 40 | 28 |
[WP] Every proper Hero and Villain knows that when a costume needs fixed, Neutral Ground Tailors is the place to go. | Franklin Benson was a man who knew three things: the most dangerous secrets in the world, how to keep them, and how to cut cloth and make it look good on a person.
Every day, except Sundays, he got up, kissed his wife and children and walked one mile to the post office where he checked the store’s PO box, then another two miles on foot to his shop. He was a tailor. That much everyone knew. Friends and family only knew that he was a very expensive tailor catering to very elite clientele and he wasn’t about to take in their dinner jackets for them, but he could recommend them to a very capable seamstress not too very far away.
What no one, with the exception of his very elite clientele, knew was that he was *the* Tailor. He was the one man in the city that every hero or villain went to see. Actually, that was a bit of an overstatement. With almost one thousand registered heroes, and at least half that number again in unregistered or aspiring heroes, not to mention at least four times that many villains, he certainly couldn’t handle them all personally.
Fortunately, he didn’t have to. Aside from the fact that a large number of heroes and villains created their own costumes, there were a small number of men like him. Men who knew secrets. In all there were less than twenty of them. Most of them had actually been apprentices to the original Tailor, now dead and greatly mourned. They knew each other by first name only. First name, a post office box, a storefront address, and—only for in the greatest of emergencies—a phone number. They relied on each other in an unspoken gentleman’s agreement. If someone needed a costume then they were referred to the one most appropriate to craft it. If a client was blacklisted by one chances were he would swiftly be black listed by them all. They never stole customers from each other. But occasionally they would trade clients, if circumstances warranted. If one found a new supplier for materials, and the supplier was agreeable, he might let the others know. Beyond these things they had no interference or even contact with one another at all. It was considered safest.
Each of them had their own rules for how they ran their business, and each was unique. Some only took technologically oriented clients, ones who wore more armor than fabric. Some specialized in exotic—even for their usual clients—materials. Some took only heroes, others only villains. Franklin took only the best. He had been the original Tailor’s star pupil, and his designs were truly brilliant. When the original had died in that horrible attack on his shop, Franklin had inherited his client list.
Franklin was the sole provider of costumes and gadgetry for almost the entire A-list of heroes, a good portion of the senior B-list, and virtually all of the A-list villains. The gadgetry he farmed out to three different machinists. Any client who went through him was guaranteed full service and total anonymity.
The price, aside from the obscene dollar tags he placed on his work, was following the rules. Every tailor demanded total adherence, and not even the most deranged of criminals would dare break them.
Franklin’s rules were brutally strict. All appointments would be adhered to. The client could not be early or late. The client was to be alone. Business only was to be discussed. What the client wanted an item for was not important. Discussion of other clients was unacceptable. A client’s order was a client’s order, there was to be no picking up for a friend. Price was to be paid half up front, half on delivery, changes to this policy at the tailor’s discretion. The client was always to appear in civilian clothes and to have disguised any identifying features. If the client did not have an appointment, the client did not approach or enter the store. If it was an emergency repair, the piece to be fixed, along with full payment was to be placed in PO box 7523 and a slip should be included indicating what PO box the repaired item should be delivered to or if pickup would be at the next appointment. Penalties for breaking the rules ranged from additional charges added to the bill to temporary suspension of services, to a blacklisting.
In return his clients received the best materials, the best craftsmanship, and perfect security. He never asked for the names of his customers, aside from their heroic identities. Everyone was referred to by initial. Should Franklin ever run across them on the street or on the news he showed not a flicker of recognition. He simply went to his doctor and requested a stronger prescription for his ulcers.
Today’s first client was one of his favorites. Mr. O was a charming, affable man who didn’t suffer from the typical neuroses that most of his clients had. Of course, Mr. O didn’t have much reason to since most people were utterly incapable of recognizing him out of costume. Franklin, however, was more than capable. He knew his work no matter how hard someone tried to disguise it. Mr. O’s costume was actually thrillingly mundane, He wore a number of suits in all styles of wool, cotton and even the occasional silk. For Franklin it was a refreshing change to tailor a simple suit. | So, you know how every time someone gets their powers, they get them at eighteen? Well, not all of them are great. Don't get me wrong, protection and warding is a great power to have, but to what end? I can't really defeat a lot of heroes if I was going to try to be a villain, all I can do is draw out the fight. Even as a hero, I'm just going to end up pissing off the villain so much that he just walks away, hoping that next time I'm not the one to respond to the danger. No one wants to watch a fight between someone who won't fight and someone who can't touch the one who wont. Instead, I found a good middle-of-the-road approach.
Sure, a lot of people hated Home Ec in high school, but then there are the few who loved it and took to it super well. That's me, I'm the few. I loved Home Ec, specifically sewing and all that, so I was planning on in case the whole powers thing didn't happen. Now, I realized that combining the two worlds I was passionate about would be both profitable and beneficial. However, I also knew that work would get tiring protecting myself if I picked one side. Remember how I said middle-of-the-road? That's true in two ways. It has to do with both good and evil, and with both tailoring and heroes.
Neutral Ground Tailors!
I use my magic to make sure that fights can't occur on my property, and I reap the benefits of providing for both teams! I don't get threats from the villains, they all love my work and always pay great (might have to do with the bank robbing, I'd rather not ask). The heroes are always grateful, and when they look fantastic for their post-villain fighting interviews, they point everyone in my direction!
Business has been booming, not only tailoring for supers, but for civilians as well. Here's to not picking a side! | 2020-03-04T12:47:17 | 2020-03-04T10:05:16 | 68 | 40 |
[WP] It is tradition that on your 18th birthday you are joined by a small magical creature, much like a familiar, to aid you in the rest of your life. When you wake on your 18th birthday and find yours sitting by you on the bed, you are.... disappointed, to say the least. | This turned out a lot longer than I expected, so I'm sorry for that. Hope someone enjoys reading it though. (Edit for better spacing)
Waking up, I was too nervous to even open my eyes. Today was the day. My birthday. The birthday that mattered. Today, everything changed.
I don't live in the most loving of homes. In fact, some people discussing my family included the word dysfunctional. They aren't wrong. Others use the word abusive. Unfortunately, they aren't wrong either.
Growing up in this atmosphere, trusting other people isn't exactly easy for me. As a result, I've never allowed anyone to draw close enough for me to consider them a friend.
But today, that changes. On everyone's eighteenth birthday, a familiar presents themselves. A familiar that stays by their person's side, providing a unique ability to that person. A friend, tailor - made to complement an individual's personality.
I breathe in deeply, hold my breath, and open my eyes. And I see.... nothing. I release my breath, eyes flickering around the room. I hear a slight buzzing and my eyes land on a fly, lazily circling the room. No.... surely not. But after anther look around the room, I have to conclude that this little fly must be it.
I feel disappointed, but still, this will be my familiar for life, so I try to keep an open mind. Maybe this fly grants a fantastic ability. I watch the fly and try to sense something different about myself.
"Will you stop staring at me!? You're making me nervous." I almost jerked out of the bed. My familiar just talked! No familiar I've ever heard of could do that. "I'm sorry." I say, hurriedly looking away "I was just trying to figure out what had changed about me."
"Well, you look the same as last night. "
"Wait, you were here last night?" I reply, confused. Familiars never show up before the day of the birthday. Or at least from what I've read they didn't.
"Yea." The fly replied.
" Ok. Well., I'm going to leave my room now. " I tell the fly.
"Good, I'm bored with you. "
I hesitate at the door. "Arent you supposed to come with me?"
"Why would I do that?"
I wince. Even my familiar doesn't like being around me. I say nothing else, leaving my room and then slipping out my front door before anyone else wakes up. Miserable thoughts in my head, I started walking to my comfort zone: the forest that started in my back yard. Walking into the forest, I head straight to my favorite stump and sit down, feeling sorry for myself.
Then I notice something. I've not heard any animal noises during my forest walk. Instead, I hear.... voices?
"Wish that guy would leave, I've got some more nuts to stash in that stump. "
I look up and see a squirrel. I tilt my head a bit and then look down and examine the stump. Sure enough, a small hole opens up to a hollow spot in the stump, and I can see many nuts inside.
Now I'm really confused. Two familiars? I feel my hair being pushed and I feel something land on my nose. I go a bit cross - eyed, and observe a small humanoid figure, with tiny wings and a bit of a glow to the whole body. I've seen pictures of these in books before. It's a pixie!
The little pixie gives me a warm smile, winks at me, gives my nose a big (relatively) hug, and zips back into my hair. It all clicks into place, the pixie is my familiar. And it granted me what I needed. A chance to stay in my comfort zone, but still be able to make friends. | I woke from my dream with a sneeze. A dragon had chosen me, in the dream- perched on my bed, flaming quietly, beautiful and deadly and powerful. A pipe dream, but one I'd always had.
The second sneeze startled me awake enough to realize it was The Day. I was 18. My familiar! Scrambling upright, I rubbed my itchy eyes and smiled at the sleek black shape on my dresser. My great grandmother had gotten a cat, too. They were quite useful, as familiars went- certainly not as rare or important as a dragon, but much better than it could be. Proud, independant, intelligent.
I sneezed again, running my tounge over the suddenly burning roof of my mouth.
*Allergies* the cat thought at me.
Oh. God damn it. | 2018-07-24T05:55:07 | 2018-07-24T05:17:56 | 37 | 20 |
[WP] All you've ever wanted was to be feared and rule the world but every villainous act you commit backfires. Steal candy from a baby? Poisoned candy, baby saved. Steal the baby? Abusive parents. Threw a woman off a building? Push she needed to unlock her powers of flight, she's now your sidekick. | **A GOOD BAD GUY**
On the monitor hundreds of ones and zeroes danced by as his fingers flew across the keyboard. It was a beautiful thing to see, Jayne thought. A thing of beauty, yessirree!
He’d been working this angle for months now, long before the last string of jobs had gone bad. And, this time, Jayne was certain the plan was villain-proof. With a few more key strokes, he sat back and watched the numbers floating in rapid succession. And then —
***Transfer Complete*** flashed across the screen.
Jayne let out a whoop of excitement. Finally! A job went off without a hitch. He was $40,000,000 richer and the schmucks who gave their retirement portfolios to Truthful Investment to manage were now in a world of hurt when they hit age 65. Served them right for living the straight and narrow, working the regular job for 40 years and trusting the company investment firm to take care of them.
Poor fools, if Jayne had learned anything in his relatively short life, it was that the only thing to trust was being feared.
If people feared you they wouldn’t mock you because you had a “girly” name, and they couldn’t reject you the way his parents had because you weren’t the “golden boy” your brother was. It wasn’t love exactly, being feared. But it was close enough and more powerful by a long shot.
Though on his quest to be feared, nothing had gone his way. Every bad thing he did turned good:
Stolen candy from a baby was revealed to be poisoned, and the town of Detour threw him a party for saving the little twerp. Even kidnapping the same infant in retaliation worked for good: the baby’s parents were the ones who had laced the lollipop with arsenic. The town re-homed the kid to a childless couple who’d been longing to start a family and *then* had a parade in Jayne’s honor. The nerve!
Despite all of this, Jayne had persevered in his goal of becoming the villain his parents always told him he was. What good was having a destiny after all, if you didn’t live up to it?
Jayne sighed. No more failing. He had files on files of cons and jobs to do to make the citizens of Detour fear him. And now, fully funded, he had the resources to make sure that none of his jobs went “good” again. In the light of the single bare bulb hanging down from the cave of his mountaintop lair, Jayne smiled. Clicking the light off with renewed hope for the power tomorrow would bring, Jayne went to bed and slept like a baby.
\*\*\*
“Yoohoo! I know you’re home!”
Jayne pulled a pillow over his head and turned in bed. It was just a dream, she wasn’t actually here. Nobody knew where his lair was, and even if they did, making it up the mountain was impossible. A person would need wings or —
Dang it. She could fly.
“I brought granola and yogurt!”
This wasn’t a dream, it was a nightmare. Jayne thought right before — THUD.
A body landed on the foot of his bed, bouncing him a good bit. He held still, maybe if she thought he was still sleeping. Nope. The covers flew off of him and there Irene sat, holding the other end of the blanket.
“Granola is for the good guys.” Jayne grumbled at her. “Give me back my sheet.”
Reaching for it with sleep still in his eyes, Irene handed him the yogurt and granola instead.
“Exactly. Now, come on. Get up. You have a packed schedule today.”
“I do not have a schedule. I have a master plan. Which is mine. All mine.” Jayne tried his best maniacal laugh, he’d been practicing, but it came out garbled.
“What was that? Do you have a sore throat? Here. I brought tea.”
Ever helpful, Irene produced a thermos that appeared from somewhere in her backpack. Who wore a backpack on a villain squad? Jayne questioned silently, while shoving the thermos out of his face.
“Tea’s for girls. Coffee. Black. Like my soul.” Jayne ground out as he shuffled over to his make shift kitchenette and started the water boiling for his French press. What? Just because he was a villain didn’t mean he didn’t have good taste. He stared at the water, willing Irene to leave.
“Jay—ne. A watched pot doesn’t boil.” He hated it when Irene clucked all maternal, and he really hated how she turned his name into a sing-song girlie rendition. “So, while we wait let’s go over your itinerary.”
If he could go back to that night on the roof when he spotted her trying to face her fear of heights, he would. Pushing her off the edge was the worst do-good mistake of his life. What he expected to end in gory death for her and infamy for him, had been the nudge she needed to unlock her power of flight. She’d appointed herself sidekick ever since. Fine. The sooner she rattled off her list, the sooner he could send her on some “mission” and get back to his bank accounts and con-files.
“Proceed.” The water was ready and Jayne went through the careful motions of making his coffee or as he liked to call it, his bad-guy-boost.
“You have an appointment with the sculptor at 10am…”
Taking his first sip, Jayne ignored Irene and released a breath of happiness. This was his favorite time of day, when unsuspecting people were just waking up, while he plotted which of the many ways he would wreck their world. Like they had wrecked his.
“She said the sitting would take the better part of the morning so I booked the press conference at the 6 o’clock news cycle.” Irene’s words final found its target.
“Wait. Sculptor? Press conference? What in the dickens are you talking bout?”
Irene smugly flew over to his computer. Firing it up, she keyed in a search and hovered in the air as websites populated.
Headlines blazed by, each one popping up worse than the last:
***Truthful Investment Busted …***
***Enron-like Disaster Averted …***
“What? No, no, no!” Jayne scanned the articles. Landing on his least favorite:
***Boy Jayne Saves The Day. Again!***
Disheartened and reluctant, Jayne played the embedded news report:
*“Boy Jayne swoops in just in time to save over $40,000,000 from the clutches of the corporate elite looking to embezzle private citizen funds in what would have been the biggest sham of a merger in modern history. But the heartless villains were thwarted when the market opened this morning and all of their capital was gone! Authorities have traced the on-line theft to none other than Detour hometown hero Jayne McDirt and just in the nick of time! McDirt’s sidekick Flying Girl, who has asked to be called Hummingbird, has commented that all funds will be returned to private citizens and that our humble hero has finally been talked into a statue in his honor. More from the hero himself at 6 o’clock.”*
Jayne was in despair. All that money, gone. All his plans, back to square one. Irene standing at Jayne’s side, put her hand on his shoulder. “You did well. Just like the night you saved me. The world needs more heroes like you. Willing to do the dirty work for the greater good.”
Huh. Maybe that was the key.
All of his plans had been for himself and ended up helping others. Maybe the trick to doing truly horrific, unspeakable atrocities was do things for the greater good. That had to work.
With a renewed spark in his eye, Jayne rubbed his hands together. Oh, this was going to be good, so very good.
​
\~\~\~
Thanks for reading! For more scribblings, wander over to [r/WanderingAnonymous](https://www.reddit.com/r/WanderingAnonymous/) | “Put the money in the bag, or I will attack with... wait a second!” I stare at a group of the people on the floor. “Are you guys already being robbed?” The nod their heads in unison. “Great, just great, on the day my greatest heist was to unfold, someone already has robbed this bank?” They looked so confused, I wouldn’t blame them. A kid, maybe 8 or so, crawled up to me. “ a bad guy has a mayor in the vault with him. Can you save him, please!” The kid was so cute. “I’ll see what I can do.”
I walked up to the counter, when I heard someone walk towards me. “Sorry I’m late, I had class detention!” Zero(my sidekick named Jane) yelled as the the the group looked at us. “ I told you not to get in trouble, I’m taking some of the cash from your half of the deal!” I yelled at her. “Looks like you already have hostages, so I think it’s going well.”
“ITS NOT!” I screamed. “Someone has already taken the money and the mayor hostage. And now we will look good if we save him!” Zero looked so sad, and I don’t blame her. We can only look like hero’s now. “Wait a sec, what if we steal the money after?” Such a genius move, I wish I had thought of that. “Perfect idea Ja... I mean zero. Lets steal some moola!”
I walked into the big vault, and oh boi we were not expecting this. Three big guys with some weapons had the mayor tied up. “You two, get down.” “Wait, is that hero guy and his sidekick?” Wow, they don’t even know I’m a villain, or my name is the “Chaos Creator”. “Hey dudes, I’m here to take the money, so if you can give it to me, I would really...”
they shoot. A small invisible physic wall forms in front of me and absorbs the bullets. “Look, I just want the money, can we pls have it?” The leader looks and his buddy’s mini gun. “We know your trying to stop us, to save the bank!” Zero looks at me “ what is he talking about, we are villains.” I’m so angry at this point. “Ok then, how about this!”
The guns malfunction. “It’s jammed” suddenly the lights go off. “Zero, get them!” She puts on her night vision goggles and flys above them. “Boss, what do we do, I can’t see” “Ahhhh” Zero grabs one and lifts them to me. “Hello, my prey, time for you to lose,” I say in my most ominous voice I can put. “Pls, we will do anything.” Hmmm, i could just let him go, but I am the Chaos Creator.
I trapped them in a powerful string confinement. I flick the lights back on. I tighten the tape around them. CRAAACK. I broke the boss’s back. “Hahahah, I win. Zero, untie the mayor, and get the bags of money.” “Yes, sir” she unties his mouth. “Your a hero mr... what’s your name?” I sighed. “I’m a villain named Chaos Creator. And we have just robbed the place.”
“Take the money, you have earned it!” I freeze my heart sinking. “WHAT DID YOU SAY!!!” “I, as mayor of this city and bank, allow you to take the money, as the city is in great condition because of your actions.” Zero looks at me with a worrying look, “a-at least we still got the money.”
I was going to blow up and kill him, but I was just tired. “Ok we will take the money and leave” I walked out with the bags. The people in the bank cheered at our return. We walked out of the bank. “I’m hungry, and I’m to tired to make something, so are you hungry.” Zero ponders for a moment. “Sure, can we get sandwiches?” “Ok.”
We sat outside as the wind was nice. “So uh, that was something.” Zero says while stuffing her mouth. “I just wanna watch the football game, at least I can’t be a hero yelling at sweaty people working because someone else got a goal.” The tv I was watching gets interrupted. “Breaking news, a bank robbery was stopped today By two local hero’s. “Screw this.”
“Well you did hurt the bad guys, which at least makes us evil.” Zero tried to calm me down. “Reports say that they robbers were hurt in the incident, but something important was found!” The news shows a hospital and a nurse. “Due to his back injuries, we found out that his spin had been broken, and we could fix his back from permanent back pain.” I spit out my water. “REALLY, I SAVED THE GUY FROM BACK PAIN.”
End | 2020-09-25T10:11:32 | 2020-09-25T10:09:11 | 189 | 45 |
[WP] Death has hourglasses for every person. One day, during a cleaning, he found a dust covered one that had rolled under his desk. |
Ok so what happened isn’t my fault I want to make that clear, it happened way before my time. But naturally it was blamed on me. My boss is kind of a huge dick. I like him most of the time but some days he gives me so much shit to do that I can’t even seem to keep track of my left elbow let alone a CD-126T termination form. Honestly, I don’t even know what he does all day I feel like I’m doing most of his work if not all of it. He’s older than dirt and is never in a good mood, nothing I do pleases him he just stays in his office with the doors closed while I sit at my desk and work my ass off all day.
I guess I’m ranting… Let me rewind a bit.
My name is Charlie and I am the second reaper there has ever been. I was hired a couple thousand years ago when the human’s population reached a size that my boss couldn’t handle on his own. We process the death of every being, but human deaths require a lot of paperwork and management. We work in a decent sized office on the second most infinite floor; sharing the floor with birth who is also a lot busier these days. It’s 2018 and times are strange.
Before we used to keep track of creature’s lives with hourglasses. They all had to be manually filled with the correct amount of sand, labeled, categorized, flipped, etc… It was time consuming but when you are an eternal being that works on your own schedule things don’t tend to have a huge amount of urgency. Now, however, almost everything is done on a computer. There are still a few rooms down the hall filled with timepieces, but they still have a long way to go before they run out. The computer is much more organized and user friendly. I deal with almost all deaths, but my boss deals with the really important ones. He’s usually the one that goes into the rooms down the hall and flips a piece then personally goes and collects the lives. Hercules, King Arthur, Gandhi, the big shot humans mostly. Well anyway, I was dropping off some forms for him to sign yesterday morning and he wasn’t there. It was weird, he hardly misses a day every few thousand years or so. I figured maybe he was in a meeting with the big guy upstairs, so I set the stack down on his desk and turned to leave. One of the loose papers on top blew off or something because I heard it slide to the floor. It took me a minute to find it but it handed under his desk. When I bent down to grab it I saw a time piece in the corner between partitions of the desk. It was dust and a really old model, I had never seen one of these in up close. It had been sideways, so no sand was flowing. That is very bad. One of the flaws about these old pieces is that if no sand is flowing then the soul doesn’t exist. If it stopped flowing then the person was suddenly snapped from existence and forgotten, with my passage or legitimate paperwork.
This could fuck up the whole universe.
I really shouldn’t be telling you this, but I’ve been waiting outside the big guy’s office for a while now while he and my boss talk. I’ve heard some yelling and I’m pretty nervous.
Fuck they’re calling me in. Wish me luck.
​
​
Note: Pretty new at this, I dig constructive feedback but please don't be too harsh about spelling and grammar they aren't my strong suits. | He pulled it from under the desk and carefully wiped the dust from the label with his bony thumb. The hourglass has only drained ten years worth of the fine sand trickling through it. Death knew he couldn’t alter the flow. He placed the hourglass back on its shelf and sighed, watching the fine grains trickle through the hourglass once more. He tapped the label and smiled a skeletal grin.
“Keith Richards, you are one lucky bastard...”
| 2018-10-03T07:42:16 | 2018-10-03T07:36:26 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] You've always been able to stop time at your own will, one day as your wandering around, you suddenly hear footsteps. | The first thing I did with my power, was steal candy.
I felt bad and later put it back. I mean, I was five at the time.
Second thing I did, was walk.
Not to anywhere in particular, just did. Walked to the grocery store during class, then home. I didn't get hungry, or tired, so I continued walking. To my friend's house. To a cool looking telephone pole. To pet a dog, frozen in time.
Every second, I got just a bit more eager. Courageous. Took me all of ten minutes to decide to walk to the next town over.
I gave up half way because it felt weird.
Didn't really use it again after that, got a chill in my spine thinking about it.
But I liked that hike I took, so I did it again later. Oh innocent young me, bewildered that everything in his world of silence had moved. Didn't stay there long, that chill came back. Felt immoral.
Didn't use it after that.
Got older, more cynical. Started seeing things different. Not better, or clearer, just different. Things started meaning less, but concepts meant more. So I took a hike.
Went to the next town over. Ate a doughnut from one of the bakeries. Stole some sticker I thought looked cute. Then wandered onto the next town. Plundered some random person's room for a memento of the trip. A TV remote of all things.
I laughed in that room, the frozen form of the man on his bed. Missing TV remotes weren't taken by demons, turns out it was just some kid playing a prank.
Then I turned around and tried to go home. Got lost. Twice. Ended up in Nebraska. Don't know how. Thought about a lot of things during my commute.
Life. Meaning. Joy. Value. Death.
Normal things.
Took forever, but I got back home. Stood onto of the roof of the grocery store, now abandoned, and wondered if gravity still hurt. Didn't want to test it, just curious. Threw a rock up in the air, and it paused there. Stared at the frozen pedestrians for a while. Wondered how I was able to breathe.
Then I wanted to go to a nearby campsite. I started away from town, but I felt that chill again.
I was older now. I could take it. Turned around, grabbed a knife from some store, continued on.
Got to the campsite without issue, that chill getting more intense. Couldn't relax. Gave up, went home and let time flow again.
Didn't use it again until two years later.
Made friends, lost friends. The world turned. People died. People thrived. Nothing interesting. Got into the writing world. Small time publisher, nothing interesting.
Had an idea for a story. So I took a hike.
Notepad in one hand, pencil in the other. Took to the streets of New York. Hopped on cars for fun. Found out water was solid.
Strolled around Cuba. Played hopscotch with some kids, still drawing. Sat next to a bakery and sketched a person inside.
Made a pit stop for more pencils and two notebooks.
Left for Mexico. Stared at a couple holding hands. Wandered around blindly. Found out cameras still worked. Sort of. I hope those people don't mind a bright flash from nowhere.
Stole a hiking bag from a store, filled it with stuff. Cameras and notepads and pencils. Had two completed manuscripts by then. The chill came back, but I ignored it.
Stared at the horizon from a rooftop. Wondered if I could reach Europe.
Then there was footsteps. Quiet and distant. I didn't make the same mistake twice, and drew a gun. I scanned the streets below. Then it happened again, behind me, boots on tiled roofs.
I pointed the weapon at the other side.
"You're a unique one, aren't you?" The tone was quiet, soft even.
I didn't respond, just glared at the opposing side.
"Most use it to do something perverted. Some even commit foul deeds. Few use it to improve life. But you? You observed."
I was the one that could do this, no one else. How can someone do this too, and us never meet?! I think I meant to say that, but it had been too late at that point, became someone else on my hikes.
"So I'm curious... Why?"
I attempted to rile my voice to speak to the still unseen person, but I couldn't.
"Answer seeking? Curiosity? Hatred?"
I nodded my head. Then held up a one. Vocal communication was pointless. Nonverbal still worked.
The voice laughed, "Well, how simple. I wish you well on your endeavors, truth seeker. I have just one piece of advice: be careful, you aren't the only one with my blessing."
Then the chill vanished. It was replaced with something else. Dread. Their blessing? So other people can use this power too?! My mind was racing, with a million questions.
I glanced back to the horizon, gun in hand.
Maybe I do need to visit Europe. | I snapped my fingers, and time froze. I stared at the angry person yelling about how something was false advertising. What a sad life she must live, if she gets this upset that we are sold out of the Instant Pot Duo Plus in red. She could take it in black, or take a different model in red, but she needed this exact one. I dug through her purse and found her keys, then went outside. I wandered the parking lot, trying every Toyota to see if her key worked. I found her car, then put her keys inside her car and locked the door. I decided I was hungry, so I wandered across the street.
I wandered into the KFC, and grabbed a bucket of chicken that was being handed to a customer. The sunset looked beautiful, I had paused time at the perfect moment. After a few pieces of chicken I started to fell full, so I set the remains of the bucket next to a man sitting on the street. A thirst started to overtake me, so I wandered into a McDonald and grabbed a cup. I went up to the dispenser, and started to pour myself some ice tea. I jumped when I felt a tap on my shoulder.
"Sir, you have to pay for that."
I turned in shock, and saw someone wearing a McDonald shirt and hat looking angrily back at me.
"Who are you?"
"I am the manager, and you need to pay for that or else I will ban you from the store."
I stared at him in shock, wondering if he was serious. "How are you moving?"
"Using my own two feet. Please come with me to the counter to pay for that."
"Why aren't you frozen like everyone else?"
"Because I have a job to do. This is your last chance, please come with me to pay for that."
I nodded and followed him to the counter. He run me up, and I tapped my card to pay. He handed me my receipt, and I headed out the door. I looked inside to see him wiping down a counter. I headed back to my job, totally confused on what just happened. | 2022-11-30T21:40:43 | 2022-11-30T20:03:31 | 70 | 37 |
[WP] Your human partner has become suddenly ill. However, you and your circle of mages know that human medicine is vastly different. You have been told to check the most confusing of human medicine texts, WebMD. | Lizette whimpered, drawing back into the thick warren of her covers. Nestor's heart chased after her, even as he sat at her computer, frantically searching the depths of her homepage.
"WebMD," its header read. Nestor had never seen a tome so complex.
"Sweetheart," he said, much more calmly than he felt, "can you tell me your symptoms again?"
Lizette sneezed loudly and even her head disappeared under the blanket, leaving just a tuft of flyaway chestnut hair sticking out. He patted it anyway, if only to make himself feel better.
"My head hurts, I can't breathe, and the world is too cold," she said. "Are you sure you can't just wave your wand and make it all better?"
Her hand shot out of the blankets, pulling in even that tuft of hair. "You have no idea how much I wish I could, Elvish magic doesn't quite work that way though." Nestor typed the symptoms in again, just in case anything had changed this time. Page after page of results popped up again and he rubbed his eyes hard, opening and closing them a couple of times, just in case.
Still no change, he'd been at it nearly an hour.
"I think my knees ache too," she said, "could that mean something? I think it could mean something."
Nestor typed that in, accidentally deleting the rest of the list in the process. He read the first possibility off, stumbling over the English as he often did with medical terms "Could it be arth...uh, arthritis?"
"Arthritis?" Lizette's voice was instantly terrified. Nestor whipped his gaze over to her, she'd opened the barest gap in the blankets to stick her head out, she shivered as he watched. "No way, no fucking way can it be arthritis. I'm 22, that's not that old, right? It's definitely not old enough, and it doesn't come with chills."
Nestor shrugged, he felt completely helpless. "It doesn't say anything about chills…" he trailed off and she caught it immediately.
"Nestor?" she said. He gulped loudly. "Nestor, what aren't you telling me?"
"Uhmm...in a section called 'infectious arthritis,' chills is the second symptom."
"Oh my god," she said, "I have infectious arthritis." Lizette darted back under the covers, the girl he loved was a huddled, shivering mass, drowning under a cold sweat and a comforter.
What even was infectious arthritis? Nestor had no idea, and he had a strong suspicion she didn't either. Another thing to ask the Mages Circle about, if he could ever get Lizette out of bed and convince her she wasn't dying.
"So, so cold," she whispered.
Nestor smacked his head loudly, cursing in Elvish and then calling his wand to himself. It flew across the room from the top of Lizette's dresser, making a satisfying smack as it landed in his hand. He began chanting softly, stroking the carvings on the wand's sides as he inscribed tight, concentric circles on the palm of his left hand.
The covers opened again and Lizette popped out to the shoulders. Her eyes were wide and impossibly blue, her mouth hung open, as it always did when she watched him do magic.
Nestor finished his circling, and with the final word of his chant he drew the symbol of the fire god in the center of his hand, where all the lines of an elf's palm met.
A tiny, semi translucent gray and white light appeared in Nestor's hand and he blew on it, stoking the flame higher and higher until it had grown to the size of a baseball.
"What is that?" Lizette asked, wonderingly. She reached out and then pulled her hand back. She looked shockingly pale, it broke Nestor's heart.
"It's a ghostlight," he said, "I can't 'wave my wand and make it all better,' but I can do something about the cold at least. Come here, you can touch it."
Lizette crawled out of bed, Nestor brushing the covers back with his wand as she did. She stood in front of him in just the long, faded old shirt she always wore to bed, her finger hovering inches from the ghostlight.
Nestor laid his wand on the bed and pulled her into his lap. "Cup your hands, baby, it won't burn you." Lizette cupped her hands and Nestor gently placed the light in them. Her face lit with its dancing shadow glow, he'd always thought it eerie, but she made it beautiful.
"It's so warm! How is it so warm?"
Nestor smiled, caressing the soft skin of her legs. "It's magic," he said, "it simply is." Placing his left hand, with its inscribed circles still burning, over hers, he pressed the ghostlight back in her chest. She let out a soft sigh and Nestor could watch the lines of tension leaving her body.
"I can't heal you, my people don't have disease in the way yours do, so we don't have the magic for it. But I can help a bit, I can keep you warm and be here for you."
Lizette lay her head in the hollow of Nestor's neck and he stroked her hair gently, turning them both towards the computer. Her shivering had stopped.
"And frankly, I don't know anything about this device, I haven't explored this internet thing much beyond youtube yet. So let's figure this out together, ok?"
"OK," Lizette said softly. She was getting drowsy now, he could tell. Some people found the ghostlights soothing, perhaps she was one of those. "Nestor?"
"Yeah?"
"I love you."
Nestor smiled, still rubbing her hair as he clicked through WebMD pages. He repeated the words back to her in Elvish.
"Nestor?" She said again, a short time later.
"Yeah?"
"I don't think I have infectious arthritis anymore." Lizette yawned loudly, nestling deeper into his arms, laying the ghostlight in her lap. A few moments later, he realized she was sleeping.
r/TurningtoWords | "She isn't sick, she's just different is all," I shouted at the pointy-hatted freaks I had long thought of as friends.
"No, no, you don't understand my friend. She most certainly is ill. You just won't see it. I admire your lovely relationship with your wife, but denial is not the answer," said Mage Rothchild from behind his small round spectacles. Five other mages, his entourage, nodded in agreement.
"What disease does she have then? You're just cross because she prefers t-shirts and jeans to the flowing robes!"
Mage Rothchild's face scrunched up in an expression of contempt. "While it is certainly the case that she irked me, but the fact remains that such transgressions are not to be taken lightly and are symptomatic of bigger problems."
"What bigger problems?"
"Let me explain myself. Gunther," Rothchild shouted, "get me my magic console."
A young mage, his beard still reddish, brought out a little slate, which humans of the other world called a tablet.
"Look here, Hermes. Look. Does your wife dress funny? I say yes. Is she paranoid? Judging by the way she looks at me and my esteemed group of young mages, I'd say yes. Is she preoccupied and distant? Well, she doesn't speak much, does she? And finally. Is she uncomfortable with intimacy?" Rothchild raised a brow.
"That's enough Rothchild. Our intimate life is none of your business."
"I'd take that to be a yes," Rothchild said as a wicked smugness spread over his dignified face.
"Rothchild. You have crossed the line. Say one more word about my wife and I'll put a curse on you."
The mage shook his hands feebly. "Oh, no need for that. I didn't mean to offend you. I only wanted to show you how sick she is."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"Why, according to this site here, your wife has all the symptoms of...let's see...it's a bit hard to pronounce...Schizotypal Personality Disorder," said the mage, impressed with his own oratory skill. "Doesn't roll off the tongue, but in any case, your wife has that."
"Bullshit. She might be cold and might not dress mighty fine, but she doesn't have any disorders. It's your sick mind. Your bias."
Rothchild smiled and handed the tablet over to me. "See for yourself," he said.
And by golly, he was right. My sweet little wife did have the disease. She was much too eccentric and exhibited all the symptoms listed. Unfortunately, when I told her that, she didn't take it too well.
"I can't take this any longer. The only reason I'm not comfortable with you is because you're nuts," that's what she said before slapping me and storming out of the house on her magic broom. "Damn you all, you bunch of narcissistic foppish patriarchs," she shouted over us and flew away.
"Mage Rothchild, do you know what that spell was?"
"Who cares? The bitch is gone. Let's all have a pint."
"Yeah, they have some transparently dressed witches there."
"Hot mamas!" Rothchild said and stroked his beard, elegantly. | 2021-03-29T08:32:52 | 2021-03-29T08:10:00 | 118 | 19 |
[WP] The bombs stopped falling. Slowly, you opened the bunker's door. You did not expect what you saw. Make it as scary as possible. Now, take this story and tell it to a five year old without frightening him/ her. | With my strength fading rapidly, I lunged for the handle of the bunker hatch. My bloody hands slipped on the smooth metal as I desperately tried to turn the handle. Only when I wiped my hands on my dirt encrusted sleeves did I finally manage to turn the heavy latch. The massive door opened almost silently. Stumbling in, I pulled it shut behind me, but not before I had taken one last look at what I had just left behind. A sea of death and the kingdom of the damned. We weren't ready for it yet.
Jared came running, his footsteps shattering the heavy silence of the bunker. At least he was okay. Ever since I left I had been worrying that something bad would happen to the kid while I was gone. In reality, the opposite had happened.
The wide-eyed, five year old streamed into the outer lobby of the bunker and stopped dead in his tracks. For a second, I thought he would start crying. How could I blame him? I said I'd return in 2 hours and had been gone for over a day, not to mention the fact that I was covered head to toe with mud, blood, burn marks, stab marks and bite marks, my jacket was now only strips of leather, my shoes were... somewhere, and I had absolutely no idea what my face looked like, although I was pretty sure my nose was broken.
"Hey Jerry, you okay?" I tried to smile. My cheeks hurt.
"Where were you?" he asked, trying to fight back tears.
"That's a long story," I replied. "Is it okay if I clean up first?"
Jared nodded. Kid was a champ.
----
"So?" he sputtered finally, unable to restrain his curiosity any longer. "What happened out there?"
We were in the mess hall of the underground facility, finishing up dinner. The place could easily seat fifty people. Sadly, for the last four months, there had been only two.
I finished chewing the last of my biscuits and sighed.
"Well, as I told you before, nuclear bombs destroy pretty much everything, so all the buildings are gone."
"All of them?" fear crept into Jared's eyes.
"I only saw the ones around here," I added hastily. "Those in other cities could be fine."
I knew I couldn't outright lie to him. He needed to be prepared for the nightmares outside. But slowly.
"Are there other people out there?"
I thought of the Butcher and his crew.
"Yeah, some."
"Are they nice?"
*Well, one of them stabbed me and several others tried to eat me*
"Not very," I said. "They fight a lot because they have little food." *By food I mean other people* "And they're always angry." *Could be the radiation, I don't know*
"Did they hurt you?" asked my unlikely ally.
"They tried," *Chained me upside down and cut off a finger* "but I gave them the slip before things got too serious." *By killing five of them*
"Did you see any animals?"
*Only a couple of massive lizards eating a corpse* "Some vultures, here and there."
"Really?" Jared's eyes narrowed. "I thought cockroaches could survive."
*You bet they can! They've got stingers now!* "Maybe. Didn't see any."
"Oh." Jared fell quiet. I wish I could've met his parents and told them what an intelligent and considerate kid they had raised. Although, who knows? Maybe I killed one of them today. It's not like I've ever seen their photos.
Then came the question I was dreading.
"When are we gonna go out?"
*After I teach you how to use a gun* "I dunno, I think the bunker's kind of nice."
"But you said you hated it in here." Kid has fantastic memory.
I thought about it for a moment.
"Well, there's not much to do outside right now," *The ground is scorched, the plants are dead, the river is purple* "and I think we should wait at least until the bullies go away." *They should all starve to death within a year, right?*
"What if the bullies come here?"
*They might. I probably left a trail of blood*
I thought about the assault rifles and grenade launcher in the ammo room.
"I'm sure they'll go away if we ask politely." | No, pumpkin, you can't look outside. I know I did but let's not do that again. I think we should stay inside now. Come here, sit on my lap, I'll tell you a story. Remember the old oak tree out front that you used to climb in? I'll tell you a story about that tree. Of course it's still out there! I'd tell you if it wasn't. Maybe tomorrow we can go out. Yes, let's look again tomorrow.
My face is a little blistered, yes. We've only got a few minutes, pumpkin. Come on, what's is your favourite story in the whole wide world? I'll try to tell it to you. Don't worry about a bandaid, it'll stop hurting soon. Yes, it hurts, don't don't touch, it'll stop hurting soon. Right now I think your story is more important. Come sit with me and I'll tell you the robot moon story just as well as I remember it. I only know the beginning but it doesn't matter.
Come on, one more hug. Just hold me in a bear hug just as tight as you can. Perfect. Now hold your breath and it'll all go away. | 2015-05-11T07:00:10 | 2015-05-11T05:44:04 | 93 | 54 |
[WP] There are multi-Gods for the multi-verse, and it turns out ours is kind of like the 'cool mom who lets you drink at her house,' though other Gods look at our free will and generally silent deity as bad Godding on His part. | The gods of all the universes gathered to present God A1, the god of the first universe, the fruit of their labor. The Meeting of the Gods used to be a chance to share and discuss, but lately, a new radicalized god had been taking center stage, God C137.
He presented God A1 a thin bottle of green glass with dew clung to its neck. He called it *craft beer*. When the liquid touched God A1's lips, his eyes widened and he held the bottle to his eyes so he could read the label.
"You're telling me that there are many more variations to this?" God A1 asked, handling the bottle like it was precious stone.
God C137 beamed. "Yes," he said, "And more are made everyday."
"Marvelous. Truly Marvelous."
Once again, God C137 would steal the show.
"And how did you do it? How did create such a drink?" A1 asked.
"I didn't." Normally, an answer like that would've resounded in hushed gasps of air. But everyone was used to God C137's eccentric views by now.
"Your humans came up with this on their own," A1 said, chuckling. "Of course they did."
---
God B23 and C56 sat at the tables furthest from the stage. It was by choice. Their place used to be right next to A1 Himself, but once C137 joined the table, their worlds ceased becoming the best managed world's of Multiverse C and simply became a point of comparison for C137.
"He's so damn smug," B23 said as he grudgingly drank more of this *craft beer*.
"Shameless even!" C56 said and reached for her third beer.
"I say that he just lucked out with his humans. He got a brighter bunch than the rest of us and now he doesn't even have to do anything for them to make whatever the hell this is."
C56 nodded through every word. "If I had his batch of humans, I'd set them straight. There wouldn't be any question about whether gods exists or not. Believe in me or I rain thunder down upon your house."
B23 returned her the nods. C56 had the most stringent followers of all the universes. Her priests were the pastors of her world and her followers their sheep. As it should be. Through her world, she became known as the Pastor God.
His own universe held more leeway. He had allowed other religions to exist only so he could crush them with his power. He believed in leadership by example. Through his world, he was dubbed the Iron God.
"I hear they fight wars in C137," the Pastor God said. "Not just any wars, wars based on countries."
The Iron God had heard the word before, but had ignored it when C137 was again bragging about his world. Countries were apparently invisible lines that marked land that belonged to the humans. What a concept--humans owning their own land.
"Ridiculous," the Iron God scoffed. "It's because they lack discipline. They need examples of holy retribution to show them who truly owns their land."
"They need a guiding light before they all kill each other."
The green glass bottle shattered inside the Iron God's hand and he quickly grabbed another. "If I were given his batch of humans, I'd create wonders beyond this silly drink"--he gulped down another mouthful--"he's wasting his humans' talent."
The Pastor God took a bottle in each hand and stored another on her person for later. "Think about all the great things we could create with humans of such talent. They just need the proper devotion to do it."
"Or the proper incentive." Once again, scenes of thunder and fire burned behind the Iron God's eyes.
Admittedly, he had tried this approach already. After the previous meeting, when C137 presented television to A1, he had gone to his humans and decreed that if they did not give him a gift worth presenting, he would unleash hell upon their world. But all they did was sacrifice more virgins.
The Pastor God and the Iron God watched C137 laughing at the table with A1. He was probably sprouting more nonsense about independence and nurturing proper dependency.
They gritted their teeth and drank more craft beer. The bastard just got a better batch of humans is all.
---
---
/r/jraywang for 2+ stories a day! | "God C137 how can you let your beings be that free? See what they do to their planet???"
"Calm down Id 10 d. They are working on a solution. And hey I already started a world war a few moments ago. Right after that they should get their stuff together"
"Are you INSANE? LET ME SEE.... Well ok atleast you gave him a laughable moustache. How can you believe in your creation like that?"
"Thats what our Deity did. And we turned out well. They are half their way to find out about telepathy just in a new way. It should only take 20 something generations. Then they will create their own universe like we did. And then they decide."
"You are crazy"
"Well. My species survived. So far. And i fondly remember that incident with your last species.... Thoose lizards you killed when you dropped that small stone?"
"That would have killed anyone. See?"
With that id10d threw a small rock at C137's creation. She didn't even bother to help. Suddenly the rock was hit by a small burst of flames and missed the planet
"May I introduce you to my latest creation? He recently visited your multiverse.... Rick Sanchez. The multiverse traveler."
| 2017-05-07T07:50:19 | 2017-05-07T05:14:11 | 3,293 | 290 |
[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | Sixteen-year-old Theodore Cruz slouched in the cheap plastic booth, sucking the last dregs of his soda with obnoxious zeal and using a ketchup packet to paint a frowny-face on the table. In preparation for this interview, he’d donned his “Sperm Donor” T-shirt and smeared a tablespoon of lard into his hair. The look he was going for, despite his parents’ entreaties to get a job, was “unhireable,” and he was *nailing* it.
“Hi, you must be Theodore. I’m Sharona, the manager.” A moderately-attractive woman in her mid-twenties had appeared, carrying a clipboard and wearing a bright smile.
He popped his gum at her and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Hi, baby. Nice jugs. They real?”
“Why, yes they are, thanks for asking.” Her smile didn’t slip a fraction. She slid into the seat across from him, careful to place her paperwork away from his ketchup puddle.
“So, why do you want to work for the Sandwich Duke? You left that question blank, along with most of the other questions.”
“I dunno. Guess I’d like to steal food when no one’s watching.” He pulled out his gum, examined it, and stuck it under the table.
“Ah, an opportunist. You’ll be happy to know that the camera beside the back fryer is broken, so you’ll be able to help yourself. Within reason, of course.” She made a tiny note on her clipboard.
“This question’s just for fun, to help me get to know you better: if you were a food, what would you be and why?”
“Dog. Chinks eat dogs, so why can’t we? I think it’d be cool to eat something that would make all those sissy animal lovers lose their shit.”
Sharona fiddled with the silver cat pin on her lapel and frowned, her composure cracking slightly for the first time. “Yes, well, alright…I like a man who can think outside the box. Last question: what would you say your greatest strength is?”
He yawned. “I’m really good at finding ways around the school firewall to stream porn in class. I sell my secrets to the other losers for beer money. Even though they’re totally loaded, my parents are real tightwads.”
“I see. It sounds like you’re a real entrepreneur. Good thing you’ll be drawing a real paycheck soon. Welcome aboard!” She stuck out a hand to shake, once more grinning broadly at him.
He gaped at her speechlessly, resembling a wide-mouth bass that has swallowed a hook. He was so stunned that he forgot to be rude as he accepted his new uniform and tentative schedule. Sharona watched the little asshat go, already calculating ways to maximize his misery for the three months she had him until school started again. She thought that scraping all of the gum out from under the tables would be a good place to start. Maybe the little toerag would quit – if he did, it wasn’t her fault.
She watched the kid climb into his dad’s brand-new sports car and marveled to herself at the peculiar behavior of the very rich. Who else would have paid her five grand to hire their stupid kid? For that kind of money, she would put up with a lot of bullshit for twenty hours a week. Maybe they'd even do it again next summer. | This happened to me in real life. I was unemployed, and going to school. (I got to collect unemployment because I was working full time while going to school, and got laid off). I didn't want to go back to work. Unemployment office sends me a job, that I'm qualified for. Go to interview in dirty clothes, no shave, etc. I walk in and the guy doing the hiring, was a guy I used to work with. Hired me on the spot. | 2017-08-29T11:49:17 | 2017-08-29T11:40:28 | 24 | 14 |
[WP]Humans are reverse Kryptonians. They are weak on their home planet but strong everywhere else. No one knew this until Earth was attacked and humanity was taken off of earth to be enslaved. | Their attack was swift and deadly. Within a week, 2/3 of the world's population had disappeared, or at least was what we assumed, since on the second day communications started to fail. Soon enough, there was no one left that was able to fight, only kids and teenagers roamed the streets, with empty eyes and dull spirits, having lost all sense of security and hope. The remaining 1/3 was left to cope with this new reality, where aliens did in fact exist and had taken over our planet. We, according to the broken transmission that we’d receive from "them" directly into our minds, were the "gifted ones'', worthy of their mercy, the mighty Azalrner, conquerors of worlds, just as long we would submit ourselves to them, to serve them as they saw fit. In order to do so, we had only to surrender to their machines, under the promise that we would not be harmed, within the following week, or face total obliteration by means of their terraforming contraptions.
Our future was a gloom one indeed - either live in servitude of our family's killers or risk being dead ourselves. Many, as myself, took the coward's way out and chose to live, even if living was, in fact, surviving. We were taken into giant pod like structures by our captors, by then showing their faces to us - humanoid looking lizards, with black scales covering most of their body, with the exception of the soft skin in their chests, and blood piercing eyes - hissing and screaming into our minds, breaking our spirits even more.
Our pod was taken to one of the many worlds they conquered and then terraformed. During the time that it took to get there, we were forced to hear the countless glorified stories of their kin - how they took over many planets before ours, how they killed or enslaved their inhabitants, how they were merciful to let us live and how they then transformed the planet into their own image - a desert like dystopia, filled with sand and burning with the heat of a thousand furnaces. They laughed at us, of our meek structure, of our lack of strength and how we would be unable to survive for long on their mining colonies. It is ironic, though, how they would come to regret every single one of those laughs and taunts.
Soon, but not soon enough, we reached our destination and were put to work. It was a strange world indeed, very different from our own. The gravity pull was enormous and most of us were left exhausted as soon as we set foot into the planet. The sky was filled with a violet like hue, with blue like suns filling the sky in an endless day with no night in sight. The first few days took their toll on our numbers, with countless of us succumbing to tiredness and despair. Yet, for those of us who were able to survive a little while longer, things started to change within the first week (or at least of what it seemed to be a week, since there was no night for us to control time in this strange world)
First, gravity seemed to affect us less and less. Suddenly, we weren't so tired nor feeling so weak. Yet, most of us dismissed it as a result of the numbness that was affecting us all. However, soon enough, strange events started to occur that we could no longer dismiss as hallucinations or numbness. We felt, deep within us, that something was fundamentally altering us, making us stronger, making us wanting to fight, to release ourselves from the shackles of our captors, strike them on behalf of our kind, to exact revenge for all the countless lives that were taken due to the greed and arrogance of our enslavers.
The revolution started. It was swift and deadly. Our captors' bodies were soft and crunchy, like crackers filled with red jelly and pain. Their machines no longer frightened us, but were like toys, easily broken by a simple touch of our hands. Anger burst through our eyes, in the form of deadly red like lights that scorched the surface of the cities in the colony that we were deployed to. Soon, we found that we were no longer bound by the planet's gravity nor needed it's air to survive and, with the help of the sudden increase of our understanding of their technology, we easily located the remaining colonies.
Yet, we were not alone. Thousands of humans had survived and transformed throughout their colonies and, suddenly, our captors turned into mere ghosts, remnants of a past soon to be forgotten. Only one location remained, our birth place, where we were stripped of our hope and innocence. However, it no longer resembled the Earth that we left behind, but it was turned into a planet of their liking.
And that was, indeed, the last mistake that they ever made.
\------------------------------////////--------------------
First WP participation, hope you like it!
EDIT: Typos | No one expected us to be this strong, especially the Xitain. They didn't put in their research about the physical forces upon our planet, specifically gravitational and frictional forces. The gravitational constant on Earth is 9.81 m/s^(2), whereas the gravitational constant on Xitain is only about 7.59 m/s^(2). Most other worlds have a lower constant than Earth.
At first, it was hard for us to do things without breaking our surroundings. People adapted to it by only using a small portion of their strength and training together when we were allowed rest. We worked for five years mining theta crystals- an important part of their technology and power generation; however, they are extremely fragile.
We also learned more about our captors. They are cold-blooded insect-like creatures with a hard shell, known as an axa, used to keep in warmth and protect their fragile digestive systems.
I started planning our escape on day 1830. All of us agreed to rise up on day 1900 and show them our true strength within.
Day 1900- there was a harsh orange sunrise at our backs as they led us into the theta crystal mines. Once we got to our stations, we attacked the guards with our pickaxes, breaking axas and antennae until we heard a cry we had never heard before from those we spared; "Mutavao", which meant mercy.
We forced those we spared to hand over their ships. Some returned to a desolate Earth to rebuild, some sought out other worlds to show off their strength, and some stayed to rule Xitain with the aliens as their slaves.
Me? I took a ship in search for a world with tougher allies. Those little bugs are easily squished- not good enough for an empire. | 2021-05-18T07:54:08 | 2021-05-18T07:32:07 | 236 | 68 |
[WP] There is a species famous for shutting themselves in Virtual Reality, living their lives in fake worlds, this planet should be easy to invade, your masters said, turns out, a lot of members of that species have been spending their entire time in realistic combat simulations. | When true full simulation VR came out, many thought it would ruin us. Yet decades later most if not all of the population were in their own world. It made life easier. No wars, no poverty. A.I. took care of us, making sure we were always healthy.
Some of us still liked to meet up in the real world, but most of the time we'd meet up in the main social VR server. That's where I had gone after the combat tournament. I had trained for it for years and finally emerged with the number one title for this year. My team congratulated me, but before we could celebrate properly red lights came on and buzzers rang our ears.
A message popped up for my team.
"Warning. Possible invaders in our atmosphere. Please take caution."
I frowned. After VR the world kind of stopped trying to explore the universe. Why would you, when you could do so much more in VR?
"Looks like that's our cue, Cap." Dave put his hand on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "See you in the real world."
I smiled as I brought up the eject button. I gasped at first as my eyes strain to adjust to the darkness of my room. My personal AI, Firefly, hovers over offering me a glass of water.
"Would you like me to eject the others?" They ask. I down the water before I respond.
"Eject the categories that we need and brief them. Communicate with the other zones to make sure they're doing the same. The others, well... Make sure they're safe."
Walking into the command room was weird. I got to see faces I hadn't seen in a while. Most everyone liked to change their appearance in VR, it had limitless opportunities.
"Captain Rake, they will be touching down in an hour. What should we do?"
My gaze falls on the various screens that covered one of our walls. They were currently focusing on the strange aircrafts trying to get on Earth. Well, they didn't think it through when they decided the best place to land was in my zone. After all, we were all top rankers in anything realistically combat related. The A.I.s liked to keep similar people in zones. This was the combat zone.
I smirk.
"It's been a while since we've had the og team together. Call the flyers, have them up there in five. For the crafts that make it to land? Well, Team Echo will be out first. Make sure to have the medics on standby for the field, and have the zones around our own at combat ready. They all should have a capable specialized team."
No one in that room had ever been in real combat. I suppose this was the charm and usefulness of VR. It's simulations were so realistic that our real bodies were able to move fluidly from muscle memory.
All sorts of fighters met these invaders on the battlefield. We lost a few, unfortunately, but we taught the invaders a lesson after a grueling and bloody battle.
Never underestimate Earth. Others had tried, and I was sure other generations from now would face these same battles. Yet we will always come out victorious.
"Captain Rake."
I stopped in my tracks towards my room. Looking over my shoulder I see a young girl, arm in a cast. I remembered her. She was an up and coming combat champion. She did amazing on the field. A true natural with both a blaster and a blade.
"Yes?" I responded, curious as to what she wanted.
"How do we know this is real?"
I frown. In all my years of coming in and out of VR that thought never once crossed my mind. At least... I never listened for it.
"Ellie Green, right?" I take a step forward, putting my hand on her shoulder. "VR feels just like this, doesn't it?"
She nods her head.
"Well, I like to think that if this too is a simulation than maybe... What's out there just isn't good."
Ellie deflated at the response. "I see," she said, turning and walking away without a word. Meanwhile I am left in the hallway with a disturbing thought implanted in my head.
An invasion. Seemingly the same as prior ones of generations before. But we beat them all, right?
I put my hand up to my forehead.
Wasn't the real world a little too good to be true? A bubbly laugh escapes my throat at the thought.
Truly, if humanity was able to create the kind of VR that we have, world peace and having our needs taken care of should have been a piece of cake.
Right? | "It is time to conquer a new world. Earth, the intelligent species living there do not know we are arriving. They are in their own virtual worlds. This should be an easy battle. Quick and, make it painless for them. They seem oblivious.". The general had made it obvious that he wanted to conquer this Earth.
It seemed like an easy battle at first. We were able to easily enter the planet, no resistance. We were able to easily pinpoint the human's locations. Easy. Then, we got to the difficult part. Fighting the humans. We thought that it would be easy. No, no, it was difficult. It seemed like they saw it coming. They predicted our moves. From avoiding our bombs, to being able to move out of the way from our hand to hand attacks. It was hopeless for us. The humans cut down our soildiers by the thousands. The general didn't want to admit defeat, but we were losing numbers quickly. I told him it was wise to leave the Earth so the people back at Juron wouldn't have an uprising that we lost to humans, and that they were misled by the general. The general persisted for a few more weeks. We lost 100,000 more soildiers. We left Earth and its solar system, but, I believe with more time, we can conquer it. The general agreed. We will wait and train. Until next time, Earth. | 2020-12-25T11:01:57 | 2020-12-25T09:50:44 | 58 | 27 |
[WP] Your best male friend dies and is reincarnated into your newborn daughters body with all information and memories from the past life. | I knew my daughter was a god damn monster.
There was no two ways about it.
While I was grilling the meat for her first birthday party she crawled through the kitchen door, snatched a beer from the chilly bin, and peeled the cap off with her premature incisors.
"What the hell, Claire?" I hissed at her, only to remember that I was talking to a mobile poop machine and that I had just witnessed said *poopster* open a beer.
"Stop being a pussy, Dave," Claire said. She knocked the *hieney* back with a gulp and flung the bottle into the recycling. "Hurry up, my guests will be here soon."
----
For the rest of the day, Claire resumed her normal baby activities. When she wasn't shoving her head between my wife's tatas, she was tripping over the other toddlers, or ignoring the five-second rule.
However, the memory from earlier stuck with me. I decided then that I'd get to the bottom of things.
----
A week after the birthday bash, I was busy watching the game while sipping on a Carona and eating cashews.
The demon, that is Claire, evaporated into the lounge or probably just snuck in when I wasn't looking and took the seat next to me. "Cash - Cash!" she exclaimed.
I found the fact that she knew what a cashew nut was quite *interesting*. And when I handed her one, she tipped her head back, flung the cashew in the air, and then caught it on her tongue and crunched.
My heart raced. Claire turned to look at me with a huge grin. Any other father would be ecstatic at this point, however, you have to understand my predicament. The only other person that used to do that trick was my old pal, Jorge. The same Jorge that had passed away just three days before my daughter was born.
"What's wrong, Dave?" Claire grinned.
For a split second I couldn't believe she had said it. "Huh?" was all I could muster.
"You're going all goo goo gaa gaa," Claire said.
I gulped. "You can talk?"
Claire propped herself up using the back of the sofa, stepped across my legs and grabbed a handful of cashews. She then flicked each one in the air and caught them on her tongue with expert precision. "Delicious," she said.
My jaw hung ajar. I pinched myself just to check if I was still awake.
Claire smirked. "Oh, think you're sleeping do you?" She rammed her foot as hard as she could into no mans land. I keeled forward, my eyes bulged, it felt like someone had punched me in the stomach.
She hopped off the couch and then chuckled. "You shoulda given me that kidney when I asked."
I groaned, too concerned with the pain to even think straight.
Claire waltzed from the room.
----
Now, after further deliberation and an ice pack in the right location. I was able to decipher Claire's message.
You see, Jorge had asked me for a kidney before he passed on. He was also an expert at popping bottles with his teeth, and he could catch a cashew with his eyes closed. I hadn't seen him much since he became the pope, however, he had called me with that last request. And valuing my own health, I told him I couldn't give up one of my kidders, not even for an old pal.
Dammit.
I told Julie, my wife, about this.
"Please don't tell me, that you're insinuating our daughter - a one-year-old child - is possessed by your friend's angry spirit." She was propped up in bed at 2am with her arms crossed and a red face.
"Forget I even said it," I whispered, turning over to sleep.
Julie huffed. "How am I going to go back to sleep now, Dave? I have to get up for work in four hours."
I sighed, got up and went to the bathroom. There were some arguments worth pursuing and this wasn't one of them. I'd prove my case with facts. I passed by Claire's room, she was fast asleep. Or maybe I was just being paranoid. There did seem to be a correlation between alcohol and the weird encounters with Claire.
I used the loo, eyes closed, and the bowl water as my guide. I imagined Julie's predicament right now, she probably thought I was losing my mind; for a man to say something like that about his daughter was worrying, to say the least.
I'd apologise when I went back and just forget the whole ordeal. Maybe seeing a therapist could be a good second option. I clicked off the bathroom light and walked back toward my room.
Something zipped past me in the darkness. I gasped, and froze trying to catch sight of it again. But there was nothing. I was really losing the plot.
Julie was fast asleep when I went back into the room, however, there was a weird clump above her chest. I inched toward my reading lamp and then flicked it on.
My daughter, Claire, was laying across Julie's side with her chin on my wife's chest. She watched me with big brown eyes. "These pillows are real comfy, Dave."
I nearly screamed. But my wife's peaceful face made me pause and consider things. "What do you want from me, Jorge?"
Claire chuckled and snuggled up to Julie. "Oh nothing, Dave. Why don't you just put the light off and come back to bed? We're going to be one happy family."
I sighed, turned the light off, and went to sleep next to my family.
| I slowly wipe the tears from my eyes, "she's beautiful" I say. My morbidly obese wife nods her sweaty, moist, pale head with half a smile. I assume she's unable to speak due to the 56 hour labor she just endured.
I look again at my daughter, she looks at me, calm, cool, collected. My wife asked me to eat the placenta, in doing so I feel a special bond between us, just a daddy and his little girl.
Fast forward a year down the road, I'm in the living room of our trailer, it's been a little over a year since Jafar, my best friend was killed in a freak accident involving some Astroglide and a Shrek action figure. I miss him every day, sadness fills me and it hurts, it's almost a tearing, ripping feeling but it feels good. It feels good knowing he isn't suffering anymore. My little girl is growing up. She's no longer the small bundle of bones with skin draped over it known as a fetus but a strong little thing with a love for nursing her mother's rich breast milk. At first she wouldn't breast feed, almost seeming repulsed by her mother's abnormally and saggy large mammary glands so to ease her into it I showed her how it was done.
In the living room that night, with Fox News on the TV in the background and my baccy spitter in my lap I pulled her up on my lap. When Trump said deport 11 million illegals I loudly cheered, not noticing as my daughter said her first words.
"WHAT!?" I exclaimed in surprise, shocked I had missed it, "what you just say?"
"B-B-B...She attempted.
"You can do it! Tell daddy!" I shouted, "Martha! Get your sweaty ass in here!!"
She continued trying to form a word as my dumb brute of a wife breathed loudly and obnoxiously in my face taking away from the beautiful thing about to happen.
"B-B-B..."
The moment was about to happen, I was freaking out.
"B-BUSH DID 9/11" she shouted.
"JAFAR WHAT THE HELL MAN HOW YOU BEEN?" I shouted knowing instantly it was my deceased friend reincarnated into my daughter's body.
"Ahh not bad man, Hell's a little warm this time of year, I just needed a vacation." He/she said.
"Yeah that Shrek incident wasn't really passable for good Christian behavior was it you son of a bitch," I said laughing, "Martha go get us a couple of beers!"
And so we lived happily ever after in Shady Acres Trailer Park...
...Until Jafar died unexpectedly of an incident involving Astroglide and a John Cena action figure. | 2016-11-07T12:48:38 | 2016-11-07T12:27:53 | 86 | 12 |
[WP] Vampire society have been loyal customers to a carpenter for years. He made the best coffins they have slept in for centuries, and never really got suspicious of so many wealthy people willing to pay premium for the same niche item. As he got old, the vampires tries to offer him immortality. | The coffin Alastair steps into is made of bamboo. It's biodegradable -- just like him. This is his shop and it's packed with all kinds of coffins. He's been making them all his life but it's only the last decade people wanted bamboo or banana leaf or cardboard coffins. *Cardboard,* he thinks disdainfully. He's never made a cardboard coffin in his life and god knows he never will. Fit for a hamster, maybe, but not for a person. And maybe not even a hamster.
He lays back and closes the lid, letting the darkness drown him. Bamboo stinks, he decides. It's not for him. But the darkness is good.
Alastair's suffered migraines the last year. Being in such total darkness helps a little. Every day, after work, he's been getting into his coffins, partly for the dark, partly to test drive them because he's got a lump in his brain the size of a pebble and it's swelling quick. Growing. It's a weed that's taking all the water and all the soil that the older plants needed to live, so now everything's wilting except that weed.
He's not all that scared to die. He doesn't want to, but that's a different matter altogether. He's got young grandkids that he loves very much and he'd like to see what they turn into, what colour butterflies will burst out into the world. Plus, he doesn't want to die for more selfish reasons, too. He likes being alive for one, likes doing and learning and being. Simple as that. But scared he's not. He's not been scared for a long time.
He lies back for a while as dots waltz through the darkness in a rainbow of colours. To him, those dots are the tumour. It presents itself like that, in interesting ways. Somedays, he'll wake to see he left the oven on all night, or he'd called someone and walked away from the phone, or he'd find himself in the neighbours garden for no reason at all. That's how he sees the tumour, from the physical events it manifests. It's how it communicates to him, lets him know it's there.
There are three knocks then. Right on the bamboo lid.
He must have left the shop door open, wouldn't be the first time.
"We're closed," he says.
"Yes I know, but I really must talk to you," comes the muffled reply. It's a woman's voice. Even muffled it's smooth, calming.
He pushes the lid open and sits up in the coffin.
The woman to his side is young. Most people are young to him. Still, she must be early thirties? She's got dark hair in a neat fringe, a pale face, bright lipstick. Something of an old-fashioned movie starlet quality to her. It takes him back.
"What can I do for you?" he asks, trying to get out of the coffin. It's like getting out of the bath though and he slips twice. The woman offers a hand but he shakes his head and on the third try he gets over the edge.
"It's more what I can do for you," she says, pulling up a generous smile. "You see, I represent a consortium of--"
"Not interested."
"--of clients of yours. Former and future, hopefully."
He pauses. "Clients?"
"Yes. Of many people who buy your goods because they cherish your craftsmanship." She gestures around the shop at the various propped open coffins. "We've been importing your products for many years, but this is the first time any of us have visited your shop in person. But this time, it had to be in person."
He's always been strangely successful abroad. The catalogues sell his products better than the shop floor. It's admittedly unusual for his trade.
"That so?" he says.
"That's so."
"And what do my former clients want from me?"
"We know you're dying. We certainly don't want that."
He stares at her. Then laughs. "Me neither, to tell the truth. But life's the journey from A to B, and I'm leaning hard on the second letter."
She smiles wider now. He's not sure if it's his head or... But it looks as if two of her teeth are sinking down over her lip. Extending out like a pair of mechanical pencils.
"You seen a dentist lately?"
"I'll cut to the chase," she says. "We're vampires. And none of us have found better, more secure, more comfortable coffins than yours."
What to make of it, he's not sure! Vampires? Couldn't be. Could it be? Ever the professional he says, "I'm glad to hear you've been enjoying my products."
"We'd like to continue using them, if it's all the same. As such, I would like to offer you the chance to become like us, to become a vampire. To be immortal. If you agree I will bite you myself, and that little tumour in your head will shrink down to nothing in a day."
He blushes at that. At the thought of those red lips and long teeth sinking into his wrinkled old neck.
"I hope that doesn't scare you," she says.
He shakes his head. No, he doesn't scare anymore. Sure, he was scared as all hell when Sally got diagnosed with breast cancer. Now that scared him so bad that nothing since -- when placed in comparison -- has managed to frighten him a hair. His own death? No, that's not fear when compared to losing his reason. His love. His world. All of those other romantic cliches lying around. But there's strong truth in old cliches.
"I appreciate the offer," he says, grabbing his head, holding the migraine, "but if it's all the same, I'm content with not being immortal."
"Content?" she asks, mildly taken back.
"It's been a decade since my wife died and the pain is not so much less than it was. While I'd sure like to keep on ticking in some senses, for some reasons, I don't want that pain anymore." He climbs into a walnut coffin, sits up in it and looks at the vampire.
She sighs. "I see. Then, I'm sorry for wasting your time."
"My pleasure," he says.
She turns to leave, pauses by the door. "The walnut classic is my favourite."
He nods. "I dare say it's mine too."
Once she's gone, he lies back and closes the lid. Lets the stars dance in the darkness.
He thinks about that strange lady. How did she get in, anyway? Door was locked wasn't it? And how did she get out for that matter. He doesn't remember her leaving yet he swears he just watched her go.
God, she looked like a movie star.
Beautiful with a capital b.
A lot like his wife, he thinks. When she was young. Same lipstick shade, same hair. Only the teeth were different.
And then he's wondering if he concocted the whole damn thing.
He thinks he probably did.
And if so, well then maybe not everything about his condition is so bad. Not if it brought her back, even for a moment, even if different. Because to him, for that moment, she was alive.
He takes a deep breath that turns into a yawn, and notices his head isn't hurting so much as usual. "I miss you so damn much," he says. His voice echoes around the coffin as if someone else were saying the words to him. | Derthezar, Lord of the Fifth Transylvanian Order, was besieged with crippling back pain for decades.
He tossed and turned through restless nights, cursing the shoddy craftsmanship of so many lazy mortals. Relief only came one summer evening in 1967, when Revelan the Impaler brought him a surprise birthday gift.
"My lord," Revelan said, bowing with a flourish of his cape. "May this coffin grant you the peace that you so mightily deserve."
Derthezar stepped into the coffin, skeptically yet gingerly, and laid down. The dimensions were perfect. As Revelan closed the lid, there was not a single detectable ray of light bleed. In moments, he was fast asleep.
The next evening, Derthezar demanded that the carpenter be handsomely rewarded with the finest Transylvanian silver. Revelan commissioned custom coffins for the entire Fifth Order. All was well.
The distant partnership subsisted through the twentieth century and into the new millennium. The Fifth Order, well-rested and free from pain, was the most furiously productive vampire legion in Transylvania. That is, until 2018, on the sixteenth morning of May, when Revelan flew into the lord's chambers with some troubling news.
"Bob Donovan, Master Woodworker, of the Metropolis of Alderson, West Virginia, has fallen ill, my lord."
Derthezar snorted. "Ill? How can this be? It's only been -"
"He is only human, sir," Revelan said.
Derthezar sighed. "Indeed. Allow me to offer a proposal." He produced a quill and scroll from behind his throne and began to jot down a message. "Prepare the squire for immediate westward flight."
It took several weeks for a response to appear. Bob respectfully submitted all correspondence via pen and ink, thinking it a mere quirk of his wealthy customers.
*"Dear Derthezar,*
*I deeply appreciate your business and support over the past fifty years. It is true that my hands no longer work as they used to, and my time is drawing to a close.*
*Your kind offer of immortal life is well regarded, but I must decline at this time. It has been an honor to provide you and your family with their final resting places, and I can only hope I have done them justice.*
*Yours sincerely,*
*Bob Donovan*
Derthezar crushed the paper in his fist. "Rejecting eternal life?! I've never been so outraged -"
Revelan interjected, as usual. "My lord, may I kindly suggest that you channel this anger into mindful breathing as we discussed?"
Derthezar took several deep breaths. "Indeed. Right you are. Bob Donovan of Alderson, West Virginia has made his choice, as misguided as it may be. Perhaps we can offer an alternate token of our appreciation."
***
Three weeks later, Bob Donovan awoke to the sound of his doorbell ringing. He slowly stumbled to the front door, shaking and coughing.
"Delivery for Mr. Donovan," the FedEx driver announced. "Gonna need a signature from you, sir."
"All right," Bob said, scribbling his name.
Two deliverymen emerged from the back of the truck, staggering under the weight and shape of a large, awkward crate. They took it directly to Bob's open garage - his workshop.
"What...what is it?" Bob stammered.
"Anybody's guess, pal."
It took Bob a full half-hour to undo the nails on the crate, his hands shaking all the while. He smelled fresh wood - and not just the wood of the crate.
Inside was the most crude, hastily built coffin he had ever seen. Nails stuck out of the wrong places and the edges appeared to have been hacked off with an axe.
Bob let out the loudest, longest laugh he had in months. He glanced at the corner and saw a message burned into the side:
*From Your Friends in the Fifth Transylvanian Order*
***
When Bob passed away five weeks later, he was buried in the coffin by special request. The squire delivered the news to Transylvania and the King of the Vampires bowed his head, solemn and silent.
"Farewell, Bob Donovan," Derthezar thought. "May you sleep as peacefully in the afterlife as we do each day." | 2022-05-31T12:21:41 | 2022-05-31T11:00:02 | 2,912 | 359 |
[WP] Everyone receives a Skill or Talent on their 16th birthday. Yours is Dragon Tamer. But dragons don't exist. | "Can't we try again? Pleaseee??"
"For the hundredth time NO!"
I stared at my teacher with sympathetic, almost teary eyes. I was at the verge of breaking down.
"Pleea.....", I started.
"For the Last Time NO," immediately I was shut down, "this tradition has been going along for centuries, and not once has anyone been allowed to redo the ceremony."
She went on and started talking about how the great seers grant a mystical power to teens on their 16th birthday, and how we should be grateful for whatever we get, and went on talking about the history, its importance, yada yada yada , things I'd already heard 1000 times over by now.
"This is the end of it. I know you're not happy with your awakened power of dragon tamer, but that is what you got and nothing can change that now."
I was going to argue, but realized there was no point, and dejectedly started making my way out of the classroom. The time was quarter past 6, almost 2 hours after the school had closed. All the corridors were empty and cold. The posters of the seers, stared happily almost in a taunting sort of way. I could feel the blood in my body start to boil. The urge to tear all the posters was very tempting, and hard to keep back. They were depicted as tall skinny men with flawless smooth skin, and tiny wings on their head parting tiny gaps in their hair. I looked at the floor doing my best to avoid looking at the joyous faces, and proceeded down the path.
What if..... An idea struck me. What if I sneak into the altar room and perform the ceremony again? I didn't even think about the possible consequences, anything was better than being called "useless", and immediately scurried down the hallway. A few lefts, a right, and a short stair well later, I reach the altar room. I slowly open the heavy ornate door, just enough to poke half my head through, and check inside. The coast is clear. I sprint toward the center pedestal, and kneel down. I close my eyes and pray.
At first nothing happens, then all of a sudden, I see visions, my whole body let out a huge sigh. These were the same visions I saw in the morning. nothing changed. The same me talking to a dragon, feeding them meat... I opened my eyes, and stood up. I got down out of the pedestal. And started crying. It was all over, from tomorrow, my life was over, I would be labeled a "useless" one with a useless gift, that brought no good to humanity, and would be tossed to the side. I wouldn't be able to get a good job, I'd even have to change to a different school, all my life as I had known it would be over. My knees started feeling heavy and I fell to the ground and started sobbing.
I was pretty occupied wallowing that I didn't notice the approaching footsteps until they were right next to me.
I looked up eyes streaking red, and face slippery wet from tears, it was the priest. He dropped to my level and opened his arms in an embrace. It was warm and welcoming. I cried a bit more.
After a while I stood ready to leave. He still knelt on the floor. "Don't be too hard on yourself, at least you're not a harmful". He promptly stood up and walked towards me. "Hope is not all lost" he continued, his voice was loud and clear, but at the same time smooth and hopeful. " The greats of Stedfi, do not act without purpose. There must be one behind this as well"
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Following a suggestion by the priest, to research on other people with mythical beast related gifts, I went to my local library. However, on asking the librarian, there weren't many books to check. In fact there was only one.
"The werewolf slayer", I opened it up and skimmed through the book, turns out the man in question had the ability to cut hair, and started a body hair removal clinic.
I readied to leave, but before, i decided to research on dragons. There were a few books on the topic, most were where fairy tales, one was about the cultural significance of dragons, in different parts of the world.
Finding nothing this time I set of towards the exit. the librarian was carrying a stack full of books just past me and dropped a book right in front of me. by the time i picked it up and gave it to her, she was gone.
I inspected the book, " The Habits of the Stedfi". Thick gold letters on the black carbon-ish cover.
I opened it up and skimmed though the pages. I stop when I notice the line: " the gods of Stedfi, often wear simple astral chain mail. It generally shines nicely and complements their scales well, while being light enough to not hinder their winged flight."
A single thought raced through my mind. " Are the gods dragons?" | Everyone laughed. ‘Ahahaha dragon tamer?!’ Some kid was hysterical, literally pointing and laughing. ‘He’s so lame...’
I was frozen in place. A million thoughts raced through my head but none of them made sense. Dragon tamer? But there are no dragons.
I hid for a few days after that public humiliation. My dad had a chuckle every now and then but my mum was trying to be supportive.
‘Honey, you have to come out your room some time. Who knows? Maybe this means dragons can come back?’ She said. She knew it wasn’t true, it was just to comfort me. And I knew that too.
Everyone saw the mark, everywhere I went and my fame spread. ‘Ah you’re the dragon guy!’ one villager buffooned. ‘Please, don’t let your mighty dragons harm my humble store’. He wasn’t using his charisma talent it seemed. I’d just come for some bread. And so it was for the next few years. I still held out a little hope that maybe a dragon egg would be found. And it seemed my name still got thrown out there every time something that even closely resembled a dragon’s egg was found. It never was a dragon.
I was tired. I was hurt... and I was angry. Every conversation went the same way. And the more I withdrew, the more they seemed to seek me out. My name was a joke every Talent Ceremony. ‘Hey, hope you don’t end up like that dragon tamer’ they’d joke.
Then I had en epiphany. If there weren’t any dragons, I could make them.
Two years later... I ruled the country. Those who mocked me, now knelt before me. Those who ridiculed me, now begged for my forgiveness. I rarely gave it.
The world pleaded for another dragon tamer. The talent they once ridiculed, they now wished for.
And then a rumour spread... someone else just got the talent. | 2021-08-03T22:06:52 | 2021-08-03T22:00:20 | 28 | 14 |
[WP] The alien conquerors gave you immortality and appointed you Governor of Earth with full authority over their fleet of enforcement drones. The rest of Earth doesn't know that the aliens don't care how you run the planet as long as you meet your annual quota of crop and seafood tributes to them. | And so that spelt the end of the War: our Commanders left, leaving me as Governor. Undying and invincible, I became an immortal with full authority over their subsidiary C-137, dubbed as Earth. All because I showed kindness to a little girl stuck under some rubble, and she happened to be the daughter of the President of the Xelien Confederacy.
"You may do whatever you wish to do and rule however you wish to rule," the translator said, dropping a set of keys (mostly a symbolic gesture) into my hands. "We'll be back for food every year at the end of your September; you already have the numbers. There are no other rules."
The quick exchange complete, they left, leaving seas of debris and fallen structures behind. I've always joked about what I'd do if I were the supreme ruler of Earth, I supposed that this was my chance.
\--
*ALIENS LEFT, PEACE AT LAST. SPECULATIONS ON THE NEW OVERLORD OF EARTH...*
*HUMAN, ALIEN, OR DRONE? CLOAKED FIGURE UNKNOWN, SEEMINGLY BENIGN...*
*The War is finally over but it had been at a steep cost. As humanity rebuilds itself, Xelien officials had made it clear what is expected. We are to listen to our Governor, who has yet to reveal his true origin and identity, but so far displayed no malicious intentions towards his command of human affairs. As we award further instructions, countries coordinated by the UN are taking on proportional duties in harvesting agriculture and seafood delicacies every year...*
"Rambo, can you turn off the TV?" My sister asked.
"Sure," I said, turning off the TV. It's interesting what the broad public things. So far, it seems like PR has been pretty good. I don't want anyone figuring out who I really am, I very much appreciate a normal life. "You know, the Governor could be a 'she' for all we know."
"Why do you care?" My sister gives me a weird look. "The Governor could be an 'it' for all we know, but all we should focus on is helping to rebuild the city and be thankful that everyone in our family made it out intact."
"Huh," I commented, as I take my computer from the side. I opened up the set of spreadsheets that I was working on - how many crops & tonnes of seafood each yield every year, projections for the year, and delegation on increased production for each country. I had to check and make sure that each of the drones assigned to these regions is still effective, and that no unexpected movements are gathered from them. It is easy to govern now (but as a general rule, *winning is easy, governing is hard*), but I know things will get challenging once people start to forget the devastation the Xeliens can easily impose on Earth. That's the thing with humans.
\--
I don't attend to much and I don't have many rules for people to abide by. There are a New Ten Commandments that I issued, ones that are much suited for the 21st century.
1. Thou shalt not discriminate.
2. Thou shalt not embezzle or collude.
3. Thou shalt not steal.
4. Thou shalt not kill.
5. Thou shalt not cheat.
... Just to name a few.
I posted them as the Cloaked Figure, and though it had taken some time to get used to, I would argue that this creates a more harmonious society for the better. Violaters are sentenced to anywhere from 1 month to a lifetime of labour for farming depending on their violations, some in their own isolated plots.
\--
It's been a few decades and I've endured enough criticisms and have also been showered with enough praise. Society is as is, and I still maintained my secret identity. But people did start to forget as I predicted, and some countries and some groups of people began backing the ideas of overturning the Xeliens and the Cloaked Figure.
Commanders had not been too bothered by it, they said that I'll figure it out. But politics had not been my strongest suit and I'm pouring over history to learn from past failures.
In my forties, I had been walking down the newly constructed streets of New New York to meet with the UN when a man from my distant memories made eye contact with me. My ex.
"Rambo," he laughed, "here we meet again. Haven't seen you in 20 years! I see that you are just alone as always. Guess that no one loves you still, huh?"
I abruptly turned on my heels and walked the other direction. I really did not want to deal with this. I don't have time for someone as insignificant as him.
I felt pressure on my cheek when the knife sliced past it, not leaving a single mark on my skin. "What the fuck?" He shouted, "you're still a freak, huh? You know how much that suspension cost me? Who did you think you are?"
He used an arm to push me against the alley, using the knife in his other hand to aim by my throat. "You're pathetic. You're a worthless, useless cunt. You--"
"--Don't you think it's silly to be still hung up by our past? We broke up before the War, this is a new world now--"
"--I don't give a shit about the new world. That Cloaked Figure is a phoney and we both know it. Ten Commandments, what does he--"
"--she--" I corrected.
"think he is? God? The Rebellion will grow to overturn it, we don't need to pamper the Xeliens with food; this is bullshit. We're humans. Strong-minded humans. The Cloaked One is just a figurehead.
"Beyond that, I'm happy to see you worthless piece of shit. When you get me suspended from school, I couldn't do anything. But I've been following you for days. You still have no one; so no one will miss you when I kill you." He said, his eyes glinting.
In reality, I had just been taking a trip from my family for the week in NNY. For the UN talk, but also to survey how the reconstruction had been. My parents are down by DC, and my husband is taking care of the kids there as well. But it doesn't matter, and this shit head doesn't need to know.
"4. Thou shalt not kill. You'll be sentenced to lifetime labour." I reminded him.
"Doesn't matter if a drone doesn't see me."
"It'll be hard to hide the evidence."
"Oh you bitch, don't you get started on me. I learned from my mistake. I couldn't hide from the school that I raped you and beat you, but I know how now. No one will know." He laughed, driving the blade into my jugular.
The blade bounced off.
"What--"
"3. Thou shalt not steal. 4. Thou shalt not kill. 5. Thou shalt not cheat. And 6. Thou shalt not rape." I muttered. I didn't bother to explain, but I called upon C-137\_001, my lieutenant, and the drone killed him efficiently, painlessly, emotionlessly.
I had never used this for my personal benefit, but getting rid of someone who had caused me to go through countless hours of therapies and decades of terror felt good.
I smoothed out my gown, inspected for specks of blood, and walked out of the alley to go to the UN. It seems like I may have to enact some policy changes to keep people in line after all.
\--
Continued in next comment due to length.
​ | The day they came was terrible. Millions had died within a span of the first few days, and by the second month they had enslaved the entire planet. The Government had failed to respond quick enough - and what sects of resitance that formed were snuffed by their Hunter Killers. After the planet was secured did every screen have the face of our new Overlord in picture. A humanoid expression with tentacles and scales. Two tongues that twitched out in a flick with every passing word. We had to assume that it was some form of translation software, as everyone understood them in their native language.
They told us of a drawing of a single name from the remaining humans. Those would be chosen and given a fraction of their power - along with immortality - and will hold a firm grasp to control the rest of our kind. Power over a fleet of terrible drones that could snuff our anyone the choosen would think of; as long as they met the demands of their Overlords.
That day was when I ascended.
I was never liked; always made fun of, always told that I would never go anywhere. People called me names in High School and I was firmly seen as an outcast in collage. After graduation, my family kicked me out and I couldn't find a job. Ended up working at a fast food joint. I had a desire to kill everyone that walked through that door. I was actually happy when humanity was invaded, as I longed for a reason to snuff out the disgusting people that I was forced to serve after wasting my life at a University.
Power flooded my veins, and I felt my body shoot upward. My back straightened, my muscles flexed, and I suddenly felt... *more.* More than human. I was one with my new Overlords, and I felt my body shift into a superior frame. I was taller, stronger, and felt master to the rest of my kin. I suddenly found myself wrapped in a beam of light, and within a massive room with a throne. The Alien Overlord - my new master - held a massive club of glowing purple ore, and pointed it at me. He told me I was to meet a specific, monthly threshold of both all Earth-made crops and seafood. I understood, and told them I would do my best. Why would I fight them; they have made me feel the best I could feel, and given me control over an entire planet?
I returned back to Earth and watched their fleets leave. I watched people come from their rubble of homes to stare up as their armada of ships ventured to where they came. We were so primitive, they were truly like gods. It felt natural to look upward, and I watched a swarm of sophisticated bots scour the sky to my command. Whatever I thought, they moved, and as I glanced to the side at a confused, dirt-covered woman; I decided to end her life by simply thinking it. A drone came flying down, and sliced through her like paper.
The next few years revolved around me creating a new empire on Earth. I scoured each country and dominated it with ease. Those that fought, died, and those that didn't and surrendered would be my builders. Each town in each city fell under my control - as I designated a healthy amount of drones to watch them. The city scapes would be torn down and replaced with farms, and the farms already had grown ten fold. Ports had been converted into massive shipyards, and fishing had become a natural job for the slaves.
Each time they returned to pick it up, they applauded me and gifted me with more power. The first month, I grew stronger, the next, I could levitate, and then I could read minds, by the first year, I could easily mind control those that would defy me. Yet, that was when the gifts stopped. They told me that this was all I would be blessed with, and that now I should be satisfied to be alive.
I wasn't.
During our last month on earth - those most loyal to me had gained my trust, and we plotted. The next time they would land and come to gather the food, we would strike. My pathetic mindslaves would be a fine meat shield as the drones would self destruct to cause chaos. Those that would follow behind my wrath would journey onto *my* ship as builders and farmers.
Breeders to create more builders and farmers.
We'll set off this dying planet - and I'll invite as many that wish to follow me on if they wanted to continue serving my perfection. Then, we will journey through the stars, and find a new planet to truly call my own.
That would be a good stepping stone for my start of a stellar empire. | 2018-12-25T15:05:39 | 2018-12-25T14:32:24 | 36 | 13 |
[WP]You are an omnipotent god. Out of boredom you decided to live an ordinary human life vowing not to use your power. 15 years has pass and you have a 9 to 5 working for a major tech company. Your boss has been tormenting you for years and you have reach your limit | After living for eternity, you would have thought that I could hack a nine to five job for a mere ten years. Add on the fact I'm pretty much the most powerful thing in existence, you would definitely think I could hack a nine to five job for a a decade.
You would be completely right.
Or well, you would have been completely right three years ago. Now? Not so much.
The reason, you ask?
My boss.
Thousands of years of watching humans struggle through life and answering to their superiors had granted me a lot of empathy for them, especially when they asked impossible things. I mean, I thought it had. Turns out what I was feeling was only sympathy. But now I understand. Now I feel the real effort it takes to appear bright, friendly and on the ball whilst a slimy, untrustworthy arrogant, bratty human adult saunters around as if he owns the place and he came up with all the ideas.
I own this entire universe, mate, get off your high horse.
I'm all powerful! I'm all freaking powerful! he does realise all these ideas are mine right? It was my idea to ditch the stylus on touch screen phones because fingers worked just as well! Heck, it was my idea for touch screens anyway! But I'm stuck answering the phone for complete imbeciles that can't even sign into their accounts.
'Hey, listen up folks.' His nasal voice sent waves of anger down my spine, annoyance rushing through my body as his words hit my ears. Something in my hand cracked. I looked down, hoping it wasn't my computer mouse.
It was.
Sighing, I spun slightly on my chair and pushed the wireless mouse in the bin, before whisking open my desk drawer. It was completely full of identical white replacement wireless computer mice. I picked one up without looking and began to sync it to my computer.
'That means you too, Johnson.'
I looked up, trying to keep my expression neutral.
'If you keep it up with that attitude you'll be in for another disciplinary; we've been having a lot of complains about you from our customers. You're walking on a razor thin tightrope, Johnson. Don't think you're off the hook just because you've been here for a few years.'
Obviously my expression still conveyed my absolute loathing. A few years? It's been at least ten. Smug bastard.
'As you know, the next model is still in the planning stages, and as I'm one of the few members on the team I'll be quite busy for the next few months. I don't want any interruptions or anything; nothing is more important than this right now. Nothing you have to say or ask of me is more important than this. My ideas for previous models have been invaluable; I will not be breaking my track record. That is all.'
He puffed his chest up, looking over his employees as if he was a fantastic boss that had just given a fantastic speech as opposed to giving a shitty excuse for cutting his work load in half.
He left. I continued syncing my new mouse up, wondering what I would say to HR for breaking yet another one. They were already aware of my anger management issues. The anger was directed at the waste of space that I had the pleasure to call my boss. He hadn't come up with any of the ideas; he had casually asked me for advice in the staff room and stole my ideas.
I'm not an idiot. I'm omnipotent, I'm all powerful, of course my ideas are the best. No one ever seemed to question what I said, I seemed to have an aura around me that compelled complete trust.
That's when it hit me. What could be the worst thing for the next model to have? What would he trust me with, take to a meeting, push through and ruin his reputation with?
I opened my work emails and started to type out a message for him, gripping my new mouse this time with anticipation rather than anger.
'I think, for the next IPhone, perhaps if we had no aux input....'
*Edit: fixed a bunch of typos, and thank you to everyone for the amazing feedback* | "Hey Garry, get your ass into my office!"
I must admit, I may be omnipotent, but I'm definitely not as forgiving as the big G. My "boss" was getting on my nerves at this point. I went into the office anyway, I dont know what brought me there. He started before I even got to sit down, something about responsibility and how I really needed to stop being late for work, or he would have me fired. As he was talking, I decided to focus on a little fly on the corner of the table, I just gently coaxed it right into flying right up into his nostril. All of a sudden he started panicking, ha, that'd show him, I made the fly disappear, giving it good grades on its way to Peter. He went to the bathroom and left me in the room, good, I decided to cause his bladder to spontaneously give up on holding. Nobody in the office laughed, but thankfully I can read minds, and it was humorous according to most. I guess I could keep living as a human a little longer. | 2017-02-19T07:52:51 | 2017-02-19T06:32:54 | 5,696 | 115 |
[WP] Speaking a demon’s name makes it stronger. In Hell, there is no demon more feared and revered than the great lord Um. | "Waddup, Satan! Bro, you're looking swole!"
Satan flexed his brimstone biceps. "Thanatos! Long time no see homie! Oh... you don't look so good, bro. Gotta get on them gains, man."
Thanatos looked down to his bony frame, his sunken eyeballs deep in memories of better times. "I know, bro, not many mortals mention my name anymore."
Satan rested a fiery hand on the pale, primordial shoulder. "I'll mention you, bro. I'll say your name fifty times every night. We'll get them gains back in no time."
Thanatos looked up to Satan, tears building in his dark eyes. "Bro, you'd do that for me? I don't know what to say... I guess, um, thank -"
"ARRRRGGHHHH"
The scream echoed out across the charcoal caverns of Hell. Thanatos fell back as the rumbling cry reverberated through the jagged ground.
"What the hell was that?" he yelled, looking up to Satan.
"Hmm?" Satan looked down to his fellow demon. "Oh, that? That's just Um."
The cry bellowed out again. Satan winced.
"Shit... sorry, bro." His neck craned to top dark depths of the cavern ceiling as he spoke. Thanatos followed his gaze, looking up to the ravenous mountain that stood beside them.
"What the fuck?" Thanatos clambered to his feet, eyes glued to the hulking behemoth. "What is that?"
"I told you," Satan turned to him. "That's Um."
The mountain roared out again as pieces of debris fell from the ceiling. Thanatos noticed the mouth that gave voice to the mighty cries. A giant, bloated face sat at the top of the mountainous mass, wincing as it's head pressed further into the rocky ceiling.
"Stop saying my fucking name, dude," its words rumbled down. "I'm almost through the ceiling."
"Dude I'm so sorry," Satan lifted his palms high. "It's just really hard to not say your name."
"Well fucking try, man. I can't take any more gains."
Thanatos stared with mouth agape as the absurd conversation took place. It was the same look Satan always saw when a demon met Um. He took Thanatos by the shoulder and led him away from the swollen abomination, it's muffled cries faded in the distance.
"Bro, try not to say his name. He's had some shit luck with it. I mean, all these humans with countless languages, and 'um' happens to be the universal muttering."
Um roared out again as his head pressed further into the ceiling, large cracks forming around the cavern ceiling.
"Bro!" he bellowed. "What did I just say?!"
"Dude, I'm so sorry," Satan winced, holding up another apologetic hand. He turned back to Thanatos. "Listen, if you're gonna stand there with your mouth wide open, we might as well get some food in there." He gave Thanatos a playful bump on the shoulder. "Food still helps with gains, y'know."
Thanatos laughed as he turned to Satan. "Suppose so. Thanks, bro."
"Anytime, bro. So, where do you wanna go?"
Thanatos brought his long fingers to his chin, scratching intently. "Ummmmm."
**"ARRRRRRGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"**
\-
Kinda dumb lol.
r/ShittyStoryCreator :) | Commander OW knows his time is soon. If not for the preppy women in the English speaking countries, Like and Um would have fallen long ago.
The recent baby boom around the world will surely make him the most powerful. And sure enough, 2 years later he has become supreme commander.
His power was to be short lived, lasting a little over a decade.
Now, 14 years later Ugh reigns supreme. | 2018-06-21T14:52:11 | 2018-06-21T14:40:48 | 627 | 13 |
[WP] Odd things have been happening ever since you died your hair pink. You always seem to be either supernaturally lucky, or doomed to fail spectacularly. No matter what the outcome, you are always ok. You have become a Main Character. |
"なにもしたくない。"
What in the hell was this guy saying? I cast a side long glance to the boy sitting next to me and huffed. His name was Tomoya. He was cute, sure, but he spoke in only some sort of Asian language. And his hair was orange as hell. Like a weird orange. Given that he was foreign exchange student with limited friends at my university, I'd been letting him hang out with me. But damn. He was getting on my nerves.
"what?", I snapped. I was cleaning up my dorm, and I had just gestured that he help me clean too. He was here all the damn time anyways, and most of the trash was his. I held up an empty box. "what the hell is pocky anyways? At least share if you're bringing snacks."
"うるさい。" He rolled over on my bed and feigned sleep. Bastard. I rolled my eyes and let him be. Turning over the "pocky" box in my hand, I began to notice my tummy starting to grumble.
Abandoning the headache on my duvet, I checked the contents of my mini fridge. Empty. Looking back at Tomoya, I sighed deeply. Damn jerk is eating me out of house and home. Shaking my head, I began to make a grocery list.
After returning from the store, I plopped my grocery bags onto my desk. While out, I picked up a box of hair dye that was on sale. Looking at the shock of orange hair that poked out of my blankets, I wondered if he had any advice for hair dying. I mean, yea, his hair was unnaturally orange, but it was actually kinda nice. Walking over to my bed side with the box , I prodded him timidly until I had his attention.
"なに", he said, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. I guess he really had fallen asleep. I pointed at the box in my hand and drew a line to my hair, hoping he would understand my crude sign language. He cocked an eyebrow. "ええと。。。" He gave me a tepid thumbs up.
Shrugging, I decided to just fuck it. Why not, right?
Following the instructions on the box, I carefully dyed my hair in expectation for a nice change. But something was wrong. The box advertised a nice medium brown, but after a while, my hair began to turn pink. Like pink af. And not the cute pastel kind either. I quickly began rinsing the dye out of my hair, but the damage was done. My hair was the color of bubblegum.
Walking out of the bathroom to my bed, I prodded Tomoya again to see his reaction.
"What the fuck is up with that hair?" he criticized. I began to roll my eyes but stopped mid-way. Wait what. Did he just...?
"You know English?! MOTHERFUCKER. " Anger boiling up inside me, I raised my hand to punch his chest. However, my fist met with a hard surface hovering just in front of him that I hadn't noticed before.
"What the hell? Backwards words? " I looked down at my chest and saw my own words hanging in the air as well. Am I being captioned...?
" I didn't know you could speak Japanese!" Tomoya exclaimed. "Why didn't you tell me?" I shook my head in confusion. This doesn't make sense. Why would he think I'm speaking Japanese...? My mind raced, attempting to piece this all together.
Captioning; Japanese; pink hair.
Then all at once, it dawned on me.
" くそー!!! " | "Just be ready with the radar gun, okay?" I rest the baseball against my hip, occasionally, absentmindedly tossing it and letting it land back in the palm of my hand. "I'm pretty sure this is gonna work."
"Dude, you've never thrown a baseball in your life. What makes you think..."
"I AM THE MAIN CHARACTER!" I wind up and pitch, feeling the ball rocket out of my hand and through the piece of plywood with a makeshift strike zone painted on with the orange spray paint I found in the garage. The plywood breaks. "Did it work?"
"One oh nine."
"That was just my curve ball." I put on my ballcap. "Go Braves?"
"Go Braves." | 2016-11-09T15:49:16 | 2016-11-09T15:30:17 | 46 | 16 |
[WP] They Hero is defeated by the villian, they expect death or torture. They did not expect to wake up in a guest room with their wounds being treated to. | Bright light stung my eyes. The last thing I remembered was being thrown off the rafter of the abandoned building by The Raven. After years of training I thought I was ready, I thought I could take him on myself. I *had* to be able to take him down. It was his fault, after all. His fault my father was gone, his fault my mother is just a shell of a person, and his fault I was left to navigate the world on my own trying to understand what I was.
I misjudged my abilities. I wasn’t fast enough; I wasn’t *strong* enough to end him. I had him right where I wanted him, ready to make the final blow. In that brief moment of hesitation he was able to gain the upper hand and throw me over before I could grab him, grab anything, to stop myself. I was a fool to think my powers could save me, I used up all my energy in the fight and just couldn’t stop from falling. He has super strength and the ability to fly. I can create shields and teleport. The only advantage I had was to block his punches with my shields and teleport behind him to knock him out. I practiced this over and over until it was perfect, I executed it perfectly. I HAD him! *Why* did I hesitate?!?
As I focus I can see the light is coming from a window. The sun is shining brightly into a room. I blink a few times to clear my vision and it looks like a bedroom. Where am I? Did I die? Am I in a coma? My head is pounding and I remember I hit my head, but I was able to muster enough energy to make a shield to take most of the impact. So I guess my powers did save me. Nothing else feels broken, but everything hurts nonetheless.
I sit up to look around more, the room looks like something you see in a mansion. Expensive paintings on the wall, gold lamps and statuettes around the room, sheets that felt softer than anything I have ever touched before. As I try to make sense of it all the door opens and an older woman with white hair tied back in a bun peeks in.
“Oh, good. You are awake! I will let Bobby know. You must be starving.” She pushes the door open and walks in with a tray full of fruits and pastries and places it on the bed next to me. “Eat up, he will be by soon to check on you. Are you comfortable?”
“Um, thanks. Yeah I think I’m okay… Where am I? Who are you? Who is Bobby?”
“All your questions will be answered soon enough. Enjoy for now.”
I stared at the food and stared at the door as she left. Am I safe here? No, I need to leave. I stand up from the bed and immediately feel dizzy. I fall to my hands and knees and fight back nausea.
“You shouldn’t be out of bed. You have a concussion. You need to rest and gain your strength back.”
I know that voice, that’s The Raven. I look up in shock, I cannot hide the fear in my eyes as I stare at him. He stood back in the shadows, amazing how even as bright as the room was he could still hide in the shadows. I guess that was one of the reasons he called himself The Raven, everything around him was always dark. Like he absorbed the light.
“Why have you brought me here? What do you want with me??” I shout.
“Relax, I am not going to harm you. I didn’t mean to throw you over like that. I honestly thought you would have teleported back. I didn’t realize you’d spent your energy otherwise I wouldn’t have allowed you to fall. I needed to make sure you were okay and couldn’t leave you there.”
“Why not? You never showed remorse in any of your attacks in the past.”
“I’ve never killed anyone-”
“*LIAR*!”
He seemed taken aback by that. He really thinks he’s never killed anyone before? Or he just doesn’t remember because the bystanders weren’t worth a second thought? Either way, he was lying. That still doesn’t explain why he would bring me here instead of dropping me off at a hospital.
“Why am I *here*? Why bring me to, what is this, your lair?”
“This is my home, I wouldn’t call it a lair. Lairs don’t have saunas and guestrooms. At least I don’t think they do…”
I just stare at him with disgust and he stops.
“I brought you here because you would be safe. I didn’t realize you would have powers, and if anyone were to find out who you are you wouldn’t be safe. If I brought you to a hospital your identity would be out there, Sarah. And I wouldn’t be able to protect you.”
“Why would *you* need to protect *me*? And how do you know my name?”
“I’ve always been keeping an eye on you, Pumpkin, trying to keep trouble away from you. But you just seemed to find trouble anyway. You’re very strong headed, just like your mother.”
I just stared at him. Only one person ever called me Pumpkin. Tears welled up in my eyes.
“…Dad?”
“Hey, Pumpkin.” He stepped out of the shadows and I could see his face for the first time in years. | ...crap. I did not expect this. I did *not* expect this. But there they are, on the camera, hospitalized. I notice that the hero in question, Jesse, is starting to wake up, so I go to greet them. As I walk down the pale gray brick hallway, passing a few minions. I wonder how they'll react. Probably worried, maybe a death threat or two. I went in the room, slowly walking in- ow, that was my tail. Entering the room, Jesse's hardly awake, at least from what I can see. They mumble: "wer... mm I?" "Hell.", I reply jokingly. "Hah??!?!?!" They yell, startling me. "No, silly. You're hospitalized in my lair. I'm your nemesis, the dark ruler... Call me Emma, though." "Okay?" Jesse replies, slowly sitting up. "Why though?" They ask. Talking clearly, I say, "Honour, of course. " "OK, but why did you not, like, kill me, or torture me, or... the villain stuff?" "Sorry, honestly. I only meant to give you a cool scar, or something, at most." I said, apologetically. "Thanks?" They said. "Wait..." I looked at them, confusedly. "move back a bit, please." "Okay?" I say, moving back. They grin. They chuckle. Then they laugh. "You-" they muster. "You, the dark-" they cough. " the dark ruler, are wearing thigh highs and a skirt?" Not like, a robe, or a cool dress, or Armour? "It's my house." I reply, annoyed. "Fair enough." They say. "Is this an elaborate plan to gain my trust and kill me?" "Nope." "A ransom?" "Nuh uh. I would feel bad if you died, stupid. I'm not heartless. I have 2!" "Can I stay here a bit?" "K. I'll leave the room if you want." "Thanks. You can go, you're probably busy." I leave, saying: by the way, don't hurt that rib, it's healing!" | 2021-08-09T20:36:05 | 2021-08-09T19:43:57 | 215 | 14 |
[WP] Due to the increasing ammount of souls that need reaping, Death has decided to upgrade from a scythe to a farming combine. | “Betsy, looks like we got one of them crazies,” Billy said to his wife as he got up from behind the counter of his desk. “You call the cops now if he gets fresh, okay?”
Betsy looked up from her magazine and waved it in front of her face as she leaned forward and looked out the dirty front glass of Billy's New and Used Tractor lot.
"Billy… don’t go out there, he’ll leave in a minute," she said.
Billy didn’t say anything but checked the ammo in his pistol. He already knew there was ammo in it. It was more of a gesture to show and comfort Betsy. It did the opposite. And she pleaded with him even more to stay inside.
Billy pushed his tweed hat low on his face. "Back in a minute," he said, and walked out into the hot Nebraskan summer sun.
“May I help you?” Billy asked to the man standing in front of an X6 John Deere combine. The man turned and Billy felt a rush of fear flow through him. He stared at the man suspiciously. He was in a heavy black robe that covered him from head to toe, the shadow of it even covering his face and he held an ancient looking scythe.
“I’m looking…,” the man in black said, then stopped, as though he was searching for the words. “I’m looking for something that can cut—” and he swept his scythe down at a flashing angle. Billy got a slight glance at the man’s hand before it was enveloped in the robe again and he could have swore it was the strangest looking hand he’d ever seen, white as… bone.
“Well,” Billy said, never a man to lose out on a sale. He’d had jokers here before, and he’d entertain ‘em just as much as he’d entertain his loyal customers who’d come every so often for repairs or new equipment. All said, Billy was a lonely man and he’d talk to just about anyone. This man, standing in front of him looking like a god damn Halloween prop, was pushing that limit though.
“What kind of crop ya’ gonna be cuttin’ with this?” Billy said softly, almost afraid to ask.
The man in black stood there for a moment then said, “umm, it’s thick and maybe a little, ummm, meaty, and about…" He walked up to Billy and Billy stepped back reaching for his holster. The man in black stopped momentarily, then reached his hand out. Billy could see now it was just a skeleton, the white of the bone shining hideously bright in the sun. The man in black stuck his bony fingers towards Billy and Billy was too afraid to move.
“It’s about this high,” the man in black said and reached his hand up to the top of Billy’s tweed hat and touched the tip. “About that high,” the man said again.
Billy wiped the sweat that was pouring down his face and he stared at the man in black for a long time, then finally said: “Well then, you’re lookin’ at the wrong one, buddy. Now come over here. Let me show you the X9. Just got 'er in a week ago. This bad girl can harvest 7,200 bushels of...corn. We’ll say corn, sound good?”
The man in black nodded.
“Right. This thing can harvest 7,200 bushels of corn an hour. That’s enough to fill ten semi-trailer trucks full every hour.”
They stepped up to the John Deere X9. It sat in the sun like a bright green metallic monster.
“She’s a beaut, isn’t she?” Billy said.
The man in black brought his bony arm up into the shadowed cavern of his hood as though he was scratching his chin.
“Yes,” he said. “Yes, this will do nicely.”
"She's $999,000 out the door." Billy said, he was feeling more comfortable now with the profit he was picturing in his mind.
The man in black lifted his scythe up and shook it a little.
"You take trade-ins?" the man in black asked.
\---------
r/CataclysmicRhythmic | "Ahh this has never been so easy" says Death while emptying his Combine and pouring out 8000 Souls in suprising speed.
"Why didn't i do this way earlier? It was getting difficult with around 6000 People dieing every Hour on a normal Day but now? It would be impossible without this Upgrade" he thought while some more unlucky Souls were reaped.
Death has gotten his first Upgrade in Reaping Equipment since he upgraded from a Sickle to his Iconic Scythe almost 500 Years ago. But he had gotten behind in the Rapid evolution in Farming equipment and fell behind, a lot.
Another thought crossed deaths Mind while he, professionally, ignored the Pleas of the dammed:"I wonder how the Depictions of me will look like in the Future. Sometimes a lucky Soul gets away after all."
He chuckled: "Death on a Combine what a strange sight. Maybe i should get some Fitting clothes as well?" | 2021-01-17T11:46:15 | 2021-01-17T09:25:12 | 224 | 23 |
[WP] You live in a city full of people with powers (telekinesis, electro kinesis, sensors, etc) and everyone is ranked according to how powerful they but they can kill someone of higher rank and obtain their rank. You are rank #1 but no one knows what your power is
Edit: Thank you all so much for submitting your stories. please do not stop posting and i will not stop reading. my favourites so far have been the coinflip/luck duo and the weak telekinetic that goes for the brain lol love all the spins on powers everyone has | Number one. The federal registry confirms it. The deference I am shown in the street re-affirms it. Everyone is sure of it… Everyone but me.
Number one. It doesn’t necessarily mean I am the most powerful. Really all it denotes is an ability for survival. In a world which went to sleep powerless and woke up with power unimagined my ability for survival is, to me at least, a complete mystery.
On the day when IT happened I woke up normally. I got dressed normally. I went to work, reading my paper on the way and not noticing the several thousands of people laughing and flying and… well doing all manner of weird and wonderful things.
At work I just thought I was early. But no one turned up that day. No one has turned up any day since. I haven’t had a job for six years. It’s kind of boring really.
It took probably seventeen seconds for the first realisations of the madness of our time to descend. We were a world of demi-gods of varying degrees of martial power and the problem, the real problem was that the powers that could kill were not necessarily fairly distributed to the, then, authorities. When you are a copper and you wake up with the power to make plants grow fast and the person you are about to arrest for looting woke up with the ability to make someone’s head explode with a thought you may be thinking to yourself “well, that’s a bit unfair”… at least you would think that if you still had anything to think with.
So chaos descended. There has always been strong people and weak people. Societies developed around them. Status quo was reached by institutionalising violence, by clothing vengeance in the law. All of that had been overturned in a single night.
So, for a while the strong grew stronger and the ‘weak’ just grew meeker until a quasi-feudal system emerged. However just because you have the power to make the tides rise doesn’t mean you suddenly lose the need to check facebook and certain elements of the, HA.. upper classes realised that we couldn’t go back to being medieval. Not really. Light bulbs and the internet and cars were all just way too good. Provincial attitudes may make you a king in a small world but small worlds mean small entertainments.
So the “system” was invented. And it was enforced. The first week was a blood bath. But here, three years later, it works. The world turns again. The system works like this: Every person has a rating. For people of a certain “rank” they are empowered and obliged to protect a number of people below them in a community. The more powerful you are the more privileges are given to you and your community. Rank has some serious kick backs. Being rank one, which is what I am, means I am also the head of “the hundred”. The top one hundred ranked people in the country that, effectively, rules in an oligarchic model. Being in the hundred rocks. It’s awesome. You get respect, power, material wealth. The only drawback is that to obtain a seat in the hundred you must kill a person above you.
Now I would like to say I have never killed anyone. People above me just, kind of, die. Even weirder no one has ever tried to kill me! Next to my name on the federal data base, where everyone else has “Head Exploder” or “Flying death machine with laser eyes” is just a question mark. I mean, I suppose I could be lucky but I don’t really think that luck can be a power.
The person who holds number two is actually a person from my work: Susan. She and I have been having coffee every morning (barring a few during the bad years) for, oh, seven years. Next to her name is a veritable encyclopaedia of powers.
The other day she asked me out, which was a shock but since I have always secretly liked her it wasn’t an unpleasant one. We are going out on Tuesday, to see a movie. I’m looking forward to it.
| It wasn't so much a power as it was a curse. Tell me how you would feel to die a million deaths. To wake up the day before the dominoes fell, the machination of reality that would end your life took place, and then some small nuance in the fabric of reality is altered to spare your life for a few more days, years, an eternity. Maybe your consciousness was somehow attached to every other version of you in a theoretical multiverse. Maybe history would simply rewind. You didn't understand how it worked, and felt no more in control than a rat on a wheel. At first it was truly an anguish lamentable, but over eons of human experience you've grown cold and accustomed to your own personal hell. The very world would bend itself minutely just to keep you alive, to keep you at the precipice, to keep you number one. | 2014-12-18T18:34:04 | 2014-12-18T12:57:51 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] Aliens have made first contact with earth. They sent a message, that we decoded and translated to our own languages. The message said: "Greetings, Colony #037. We are glad to see you survived. The others all ran out of resources. May we come over?" | I recieved a text on my phone, the screen lit up with the time and my background image of Devon Jade. I picked up my phone while letting my plane cruise in War Thunder toward an objective, and unlocked it, and opened my Messages app. I had one message, with no phone number, and from what I could read, the message said **Greetings, Colony #037. We are glad...** I opened the message to read the rest.
The whole thing read, **Greetings, Colony #037. We are glad to see you survived. The others all ran out of resources. May we come over?**
I had gotten a lot of spam text messages in my 13 years having a cell phone, but this was oddly specific. Suddenly I rcieved 2 other texts: One from my best friend, and one from my sister. I opened up my sister's text, which pasted the same message I had just gotten, into a text and sent it to me and asked if I was pranking her with a website or something. I texted back, "No, I got the same thing." I pressed the *back* button and opened up my best friend's text, which amounted to "lol wtf is this?" I told him I got the same thing. I pressed the *back* button again and reopened the weird message. I had originally thought immediately that ,y best friend was pranking me but I doubted it, he was too busy with his kids for that crap.
I replied back to the text, "Who is this?"
My phone buzzed instantly as soon as I pressed the send button, almost. I got a reply.
**This is the Galactic Federation Cruiser #394. We are requesting permission to visit your planet. May we enter airspace over where this signal is being broadcast?**
I decided to play along, maybe this was some weird form of sucking me into a text D&D session thing. I texted back, "Sure, feel free." I leaned back in my chair, and then heard a loud *boom* above my trailer of a house that rattled *everything*, and almost knocked one of my monitors off of my desk. I barely managed to save it after being startled. I thought a nuclear bomb had just gone off nearby or something. Our dogs in our house started whimpering and I heard a huge commotion in our living room.
I left my room and headed to the front door a few steps away. Before I opened the door I looked at the living room for our dogs. They were all huddled together on the couch opposite the door, whimpering. I shrugged, and I opened the door to go outside to check the huge boom, to find a man on our doorstep, dressed in a fine deep red suit with matching tie and white undershirt, with a middle button on the suit buttoned. He was of above average height and looked to be reasonably fit. He had brown hair and some mild 5 o'clock shadow.
"Whoa, dude, don't you know how to knock?" I asked. Fortunately my sister and stepdad were at work, so I'd be the one to have to deal with this rando on my doorstep...
"Are you number 839-4932-3943?" He recited my phone number more solidly than I did, like he owned it. I still had trouble reciting my cell number to people and I'd had it for years.
"Uh, yes, though we... wait, who... go step down there please." He acquiesced to my request and moved. He moved off of our small front staircase. Above my house was a gigantic, round, black and grey disc that I could just barely see the edges of. It blotted out the sun over the immediate area, and I truly did not know how large it was. I hadn't even noticed it was dark even though it was 1 PM. Everything that had just happened suddenly came together, and other neighbors were looking out of their windows across the street, and I heard cars honking from the main road a little ways behind our trailer. The man began speaking again:
"Uh, yeah, I was sent down here to request assistance from Human Colony #037-" I interrupted him.
"Human colony?" I raised an eyebrow, questioningly.
"Yes, human colony. We've gone through this with every other planet that ended up producing humans that did not have space travel, but we need help. The ship you see above you is filled to the brim with humans from other planets, and we need a planet to live on."
"Alright, look." I could immediately hear sirens in the distance and helicopters. "I don't want any part of this or to be implicated in some government scheme. Do I *look* like a world leader?" I was wearing some extremely stained blue jeans and a video game insignia T-shirt with socks on.
"Ah, no, I suppose you don't..."
"And I guess you guys were going for the shotgun approach to find the world leader by sending a text message to *everyone on the damn planet*?" I squinted my eyes at him.
"I'm not familiar with the term "shotgun", but I get the context, yes... to be fair, all of the other human planets we've come across have only let their leaders use electronics..." I raised both of my eyebrows now. Cop cars pealed to a stop outside my fence.
"Alright, I'm gonna let them take you from here." I walked to my fence and as I walked to my fence, cops began exiting their cars. The man in the red suit followed behind me.
"Are these your lawkeepers?" he asked me.
"Yeah, sure, they'll take care of everything." I told him. I gestured to the cops. One came over, a slightly tubby dude, bald, almost the common cop stereotype pretty much. "Hey, this guy," I gestured to red suit man, "is from that thing." I gestured to the craft above my house.
"I wish to speak to your world leader or leaders." He told the cop. The cop said some stuff on his radio and he nodded. I opened my fence gate to let red suit guy through, but before he went through, I asked him his name.
"My name is Nathan," He answered.
"Huh, for humans from another planet I was expecting something more exotic. Bobby." I stuck out my hand and he didn't know what to do with it. I dropped my hand back down, and chuckled a bit. He said:
"I could say the same for your name." He laughed a deep, hearty laugh and I laughed with him. I told him to take care. He nodded and went with the officer into his squad car. I closed my gate, and walked back into my house, sat at my computer again, and found my plane in War Thunder had been shot down. I don't know what I expected from being AFK in a multiplayer plane shooter.
I muttered something about distractions and respawned as a new plane and tried to forget about what just happened. I hoped they'd move their giant craft soon, not that it affected me any.
The weeks afterward were not filled with requests for interviews, or phone calls, or anything. It was mildly disappointing, but at the same time, would have been annoying to have happen to me at work. I repeatedly saw Nathan on sites like Reddit, Yahoo, Huffington Post, even in papers like the New York Times. It seemed like he was being treated okay, and eventually the huge disc above my house was centered over Parliament in England, for some reason unbeknownst to me.
And so, life moved on after the strange visit from the red suit man. I didn't pay attention to what happened after that day for the most part, but eventually, the giant disc disappeared, and Nathan with it. I have no idea what happened, and never will. Life quickly moved on and forgot about Nathan and the disc after a few years, except for the hardcore conspiracy theorists, but no one would ever get the true answer on what happened.
Edit: Punctuation
2nd Edit: After reading it over it looks okay. I'm not great at writing but wanted to try at this one. I suck at endings though. | It was decoded chaos. At first they accused the decoders of playing a prank. Once it was verified, everyone knew what it meant, yet noone wanted to acknowledge except for some cult that began calling themselves 'The Deposits'.
I wasn't sure about how to react. A colony??? How could we possibly have been a colony? The reporters have been eating and sleeping on my lawn since yesterday, they won't leave without a statement. I don't think its a news story they're looking for, what the need is an assurance, and only I know how much assurance i need.
The secratery of defence called me and said he's sending a car for me, they want me at the pentagon to discuss what the reply should be. How can we reply when the message has uprooted all our understandings about ourselves. We can't distinguish between scientists and conspiracy theorists anymore.
The pentagon was the most impressive building I've set foot inside, but i was in no situation to appreciate it.
The conference table was a mini representation of how the country is run- the men who actually run things and me, an ordinary citizen who happened to decode the message.
"Sit down, Jason" said the secratery. The President looked at me and gave ne a nod that said, "We hope you have sone faintest idea, because we got shit". And that's what scared me, i felt like there's too much on me.
"So, we have the basic idea about what the message means, Dr. Stephens will debrief now, Dr, please..."
As the Secratery sat himself, Dr Stephens rose, adjusted his spectacles and looked anxiously at everyone at the table. He seemed to be the only one in the room who got a grip on the things.
He began, "Last week, we got the message, we didn't know what to make of it, so we put it on the internet and young Jason here decoded it, as we all know, the message was in no forms what we had expected or imagined. So along with the decoded message and some bits and dots that was decoded as various locations, our prominent historians, biologists and geologists have been able to identify that the locations in the message have been the first areas that we believe that life began on Earth. Along with some underground structure that was dug out yesterday that proved out to be some kind of spaceship station, these messages prove that the message have to be taken as it is. We are merely a colony that was set up by these life forms as a way of expanding the possibility of sustaining their race".
"So they just dumped some eggs in here and just left?"
asked the President.
"We believe they did sent some individuals who tried to tell us of our origin, but we must have thought them for God's messengers and made religions out of it"
The doctor's reply invoked a prolonged silence in the room.
"Put aside the origin theories, we have to decide what we have to do now. Mr. President?" The Major finally broke the silence.
The President looked puzzled at the Doctor. "How many of them are there?"
"About 2.5 billion from their data, and that looks like it"
"Clearly we won't withstand an attack, right?"
"No we won't, with their technology they can incinerate the whole planet it seems, they are orbiting us within range".
"Uh... What are the stands of other nations? If i may ask?" I intervened nervously.
"They're all under the stand that we should let them in, that we don't have any other choice. What is your take on all of this, Jason?"
"Firstly I don't think they'll 'incinerate' us, if they're looking for a planet to live on, surely they won't, so why would the orbit us with their big guns? It's clearly nit a defensive action because they've come in out range, and just because they put us in here, doesn't mean we owe them anything, we shouldn't let them in, atleast not until they've shown their hands."
"You trying to get us extinct son? They're clearly not asking permission, they're just knocking. We are supposed to open" The Major was displeased.
"It's just my take on things sir" I said.
The Major turned to the President, "Sir please dont tell me you're considering this"
The President took a pen and a pice of paper, scribbled down something and pushed it in front of me and said, "Son just encode this will you?"
I took the paper and looked back at him, he smiled at me and said aloud "Meeting dispersed until after the reply is sent." Then he whispered something in the Secratery's ears and I was escorted out with for men who were heavily armed into a room and i was sat in front of a computer.
There, i opened the paper and a sudden rush of cold climbed by backbone. It said "They believe you, begin descend."
| 2018-12-15T22:29:49 | 2018-12-15T21:54:25 | 51 | 24 |
[WP] As you die, you wake up in a fiery place. You quickly realize you're in hell. You ask the next demon why you are there, as you lived a very good life. "You're not being punished," he says. "You are the punishment." | A darkness engulfs me and then I open my eyes and I'm in a cafe.
The lights are overwhelming and I'm almost deafened by the noise. The hiss and splutter of the coffee machine with it's milk throther cut into my brain. It's all too much, shadowy figures are moving around me, the clatter of cups hitting saucers, the biting down on buttery pastries.. it's all so loud... it's too much.. it's
"Are you okay?"
I realise with the mania around me I haven't noticed I'm sitting opposite a person. A guy. 50 years ago he'd be my type. Why is he sitting here? Why am I sitting here?
He has tight curls that have been styled with cheap gel so that they stand militarily upon his head. His eyes are brown and he has a square jaw. He's definitely mixed. My grandchildren have told me I shouldn't be focussing on that but why the hell am I sitting with a mixed guy. He's more white than brown so I let it be.
I glance at my hands and my chest tightens. They're not my hands. These hands are a young persons hands. The skin is taught and tanned. No veins are showing and the nails are perfectly manicured.
This is.. this is not me..
The mixed man smiles encouragingly. And I notice there's a drink in front of me. I take a sip. It's coffee with milk. But the milk tastes funny. The mixed man notices my displeasure. "I'm sorry" he says apologetically "it's oat milk.. you said you were vegan" "right" I say. What else can I say....
Things start to become clearer and I lean in "of course I just zoned out for a moment.."
"No worries! So, where do you work? Not gonna lie, I was slightly surprised to match with someone like you"
The small talk continues, the minutes tick by.
He's sweet so I let him yammer on.
"Would you like to go for a wander?"
I accept. We leave the cafe. It's grey but warm outside and we walk down the paved streets, passing shops, restaurants and other places of business.
He's still talking, he's telling me about his niece, a story about a bumblebee. I laugh out of duty.
We keep walking. We've been walking nearly an hour now. I can tell he's getting more into it. He's relaxed and his voice is becoming more animated. His hand brushes mine and I know it's a weak attempt to hold my hand. So I return the gesture. And now we're walking, holding hands, like it's the most natural thing in the world.
We come up to a bus stop and he glances up at the bus timetable
"y'know, there's a bus from here that basically goes to the end of my street"
I smile. And nod. It's the confirmation he needs. He kisses me. I return the kiss and pull his hips in to mine. I know he's surprised by the gesture, I've acted so cold the entire date, but that's how you hook them.
Back to his.
Clothes off.
Fuck.
Lie in bed together.
I scroll through my phone, showing him photos of me as a child, giving myself to him emotionally. He eats it up. They all do.
6 months later.
We're back in the cafe where we first met. It's not so loud this time. He looks better. I threw out the cheap jel. His shirt is nicer. I changed that too. You've got to make someone be better for you. His hand holds mine. There's love in his eyes. It's been 6 months of texts, phone calls, cinema trips, cooking in the kitchen, drinking wine, going on runs, kissing him, stroking his face, staring into one anothers eyes and saying 'I love you', the brushing of a hand against a thigh, secret smiles, watching dumb comedies on Netflix, more wine, meeting friends, meeting parents, going swimming, reading books and falling in love.
But now it's time.
I look him square in the face and say the words "I'm done".
There's no need for an apology.
The darkness swallows us both and before I can blink we're both where we started. Back in hell. The man in front of me is an older version of the man in the cafe. Just as I am an older version of myself. The pain on his face is visible. There are tears streaming down his cheeks.
I stare at him.
Then I turn, walk a few steps to the left to the next man. I close my eyes, his mind and his memory open for me and I let myself be pulled in.
I am the heartbreaker. | I lived a very good life with more like a nerd and very less like a bully. I never made my expectations high except for the happiness for my love. I died of Covid-19 as days passed quarantine myself away from my love. Dying alone.
My wife giving me an eulogy. Her words and voice wants me to wake up from the body and kiss her. She looks like Angel in black sent from the God of sad. My sons made their living well and I asked them to take care of my love as my last wish.
Slowly, my mind starts feeling dizzy. It's more like I connected with eternity. I became branch of the Ever-growing tree and it's called life. I was standing in a path to my childhood home. I saw my mother waiting with food and smile in her face. I joined her we moved. Soon, I saw my wife waiting for me and she also joined me.
We reached my home. They parted away and said, "You need to do it". I opened the door and I feel the fear and happiness on the handle of the door. I saw my love first in that home. My dad became addict and also died in this home.
I saw outside the windows and there's a storm surrounded my home. No one can make a way through the storm.Soon, I realised I'm in hell but I don't know why. Someone knocked the door and I opened it. I saw my childhood abuser making his way through the kitchen. I followed him and I saw my dad holed up afraid in the corner of the kitchen.
I asked him what am I doing here and he replied that they were only given one instruction.
"YOU ALL NEED TO LIVE WITH THAT" | 2020-07-10T10:13:29 | 2020-07-10T07:21:39 | 51 | 35 |
[WP] You, an overworked scientist, have just sold your soul to the devil so your life's work will become widely known and help millions of people. The devil comes back the next day and, instead of taking your soul, asks you to take his teenage daughter off his hands. | "So... Does the payment come at the end or is it upfront?" I say as I stare the devil down, or at least try to but damn is he hot. Literally. My eyes are watering as my carpet is ruined by blue and red flames, my eyes unable to pierce his anyways as they hid behind a pair of rocking shades.
"A little of column A, a little of column B. First, are you sure you should sell your soul for this thing? I mean I'll take it but damn dude there's a lot of things you could sell and this is... something. I mean... kitten mittens?"
"Hey man, cats are loud." I say with a chuckle, then stop and stare at Lucifer. "What do you mean, a little of each? Isn't one or the other?"
"Not quite... I have a bit of conundrum. You see there's a bitchin party coming up, down in the lower circles, like some pretty good bands are showing up, even Lennon is coming."
"Lenin like the USSR guy?" I ask, wondering if the original leader of the communist regime was worth sending to hell. Was the devil a capitalist?
"No no no... I'm saying John Lennon, fucking Beatles man, best band."
"Wait John Lennon is in hell?!"
"Y'all don't know shit about John." The devil said with a laugh, taking a chair and pulling it over, sitting backwards in it like a school counselor trying to level with a crack addict student. "Listen Steve..."
"It's Ron... jeez you'd think you'd remember the name of a guy selling his soul to you..."
"Never mind that! Like I said Steve, there's a bitchin party going on and I ain't missing it for the world. I need you to watch someone."
"That is not part of the deal! You can have my soul but my time is precious." The devil smirked and brought the contract out of thin air with a poof, pointing to some fine print at the bottom.
"As you can see it says on this paper that I can take your soul in whichever fashion I dare choose. You'll see what I mean when I bring her in." Before I could question him, the air shimmered and into existence came a girl, possibly sixteen or seventeen in age, wearing skinny jeans and a crop top, headphones in her ears. She looked human, save for the the small horns crowning through her blonde pixie cut hair. She paid no attention as she sat on her phone, until Lucifer pulled her by the shirt towards me, making her face me.
"This is Lucy. You're watching her for the next decade or so."
"Decade?! What kind of party is that?"
"A bitchin one..." the devil pulled the headphones from her ears and made her look up to me. She was at first uninterested, but soon she started to walking slower, almost like she was approaching a rib eye steak dinner. "You see this falls in line with the contract... Lucy feeds off souls, just like any other devil. She will take your soul slowly, all within the rules, over time while I go to this rager. Be careful, she's clingy when she's hungry."
She slowly moved forward, stopping for a moment as I stood petrified. Then she pounced, tackling me to the ground, her teeth buried themselves into my neck. No blood poured out of the wound, but I could feel myself losing something.
"Oh and one more thing my dude... Thats my daughter. Don't get any ideas." He winked down at me as his daughter feasted upon my neck. Then he was gone, disappearing into the void. It left me with a grown ass teen on me sucking the life out of my neck. Once she finished her snack, about two to three minutes of undesirable pain, she got up and wiped her mouth and put her ear phones back in.
"You taste... pretty good." She said, turning away with flushed cheeks, heading down the hallway to find an appropriate room for her to live in for the coming decades.
Kitten Mittens stock value is only going up.
| I stood in front of the devil, perplexed. Next to him sat a run-of-the-mill average looking teenage girl, wearing pigtails, texting on her phone and occasionally giggling over what was presumably some sort of inside joke in her stereotypical teenage clique.
"I have no idea how to take care of her. She just completely shut herself off from me - and, believe me, I've tried every trick in the book to get her to open up to me."
An awkward silence filled the room as I continued to simply stare at the Lord of the Underworld in utter amazement.
"I think I may simply not be cut out for raising a daughter."
Finally coming to my senses, I managed to catch enough of a grasp of the situation to finally formulate a response:
"Yeah, sorry, that's not happening. I'd rather have you take my soul."
And with that, I shut the door without any further ado and went back to work. | 2017-06-11T01:50:17 | 2017-06-10T23:26:09 | 24 | 14 |
[WP] The President of the United States must take another man's life to retrieve the nuclear launch codes embedded in their chest. You are the man with the codes in your chest. You are paid a good amount of money due to possibly having to be murder. Also, you must always stay near the President.
Inspired by a TIL post about the topic.
A comment specifically sparked the idea of submitting this to writing prompts.
The comment can be found [here](https://np.reddit.com/r/todayilearned/comments/2p6ibz/til_law_professor_roger_fisher_suggested_that/cmttij5), and the TIL post [here](https://np.reddit.com/r/todayilearned/comments/2p6ibz/til_law_professor_roger_fisher_suggested_that/). | We were all quiet this morning, the President, the First Lady and I, only the sound of cutlery breaking the silence as we ate our breakfast, each lost in his own thoughts. A phone rang and the President picked up. "I see." He said with a frown on his face before putting his phone away. "Let the girls in." He said and the doors suddenly opened, pair of girls, eight and ten years old burst through the open door and past the bodyguards posted at each side of the door and into my arms.
"Uncle Mike!" The youngest squealed and leaped into my arms, telling me about her new pet lizard and the boy she likes and everything else that had happened in the past few days. I smiled and kissed her hair, listening but not hearing the words. The President tapped his watch. "We have to go." He said, so the two of us left, waving goodbye to the children and the First Lady.
Not until the limousine was slowing to a halt did I allow myself to say what had been bothering me all morning. "I thought I wasn't supposed to see them right now, not while things are so... tense. What if you have to, you know..." I dragged a finger across my throat, trying to make light of it.
"They have attacked. New York, Houston and Chicago have all been hit and more reports are coming in as we speak." My heart skipped a beat and suddenly I could feel the steel of the knife I carried at my side, as if the words had activated it, making it come to life for the first time in the sixteen years it had been there. "I... changed my mind. I thought you should see them before..." '... it's too late' was left unsaid. I tried to say thank you for letting me see the girls, that I didn't blame him, but suddenly I felt tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat. The car came to a halt, but the President signaled the bodyguard holding the door open for them to wait.
"Next time you see them I'll be dead and you'll be a murderer." I finally said and without another word I swept out of the car. We kept a rapid pace towards the control room, me trying to out pace the thoughts of what was about to happen while the President struggled to keep up. After a few minutes and as many security checks we were there and the president looked over at me as if to say 'Well, here we are...'. Instead he looked me in the eyes and said, "Michael, I'm sorry, but I have to kill you."
He reached out to take the blade tucked under my jacket. As his fingers closed around the hilt of the knife a sudden feeling of panic over took me. In an instant I no longer cared what I had signed up for, I didn't care how many had lost their lives, I didn't care that there were guards posted at every door and I didn't care that I had known the man standing in front of me for almost half my life. I don't want to die. I grabbed hold of the knife and twisted it out of the Presidents hands, his eyes wide with shock as I drove it into his stomach. My heart pounded in my ears, muffling the shouting voice. I ran, my eyes fixed on the door, the way out, but then I felt a sharp pain in my abdomen and my knees gave way under my weight. 'I don't want to die', I thought as I laid, blood pooling under me. Please don't let me die. | I gasped as the knife was plunged into my chest. "So... this is it..." I gasped, coughing up blood. "The President is going to start a... a nuclear war. "
The man grinned, heaving the knife out of my chest in one swift movement. "The President? I think you misunderstand who I work for."
Everything went black. | 2014-12-13T14:38:28 | 2014-12-13T14:21:01 | 137 | 44 |
[WP] Your life is an endless series of horror movies. You're always at the wrong place at the wrong time. You're stuck seeing all your friends die right after you make them. The reason you're still alive? You can hear the horror music. | I can't keep from cursing when I hear the music start, drawing the attention my new friends from the new school I was sent to after my old friends where gruesomely murdered by an inbred mountain man no one knew lived in the woods. Of course they don't know that's only the most recent horror movie I lived through
My new, or should I say current friends seeing as the music just started, all know what I went through, it was big news so when I started cursing for no reason i became the focus of attention.
At this point I must once again decide if I tell them and make them think I'm crazy or just run for it alone. Usually it doesn't matter if I tell them since they won't be around long but every now and then someone else survives and I become the lunatic and primary suspect.
It's only happened twice but it really sucked being locked up in a psyche ward until after the many tests that prove I'm sane. That's right I'm hearing music in my head and according to teams of psychiatrists, I'm sane.
As the music at the party gets shut off, (yea we're having a party in a cabin in the woods drinking under age I guess having me around makes it a novelty since the last time I was at a party like that everyone else died whoever thought the idea up is gonna regret it, they're usually first), the music in my heads getting louder. I decide to just tell them the ones who don't listen won't have a chance anyway.
Aside from me there's five people 3 girls and 2 boys, I'm pretty sure it was planned so I could hook up with this girl Anne who loves horror films, I never understand when friends try matchmaking they focus on such stupid things, she likes horror movies I live horror movies we must go well together.
Well I start telling them we gotta go I don't wanna explain it takes too long if the music changes we won't make it to the cars or they won't start
The reactions are like you expect from 5 drunk teens the guys laugh and say it's fine the girl who screwed her boyfriend as soon as we got here laughed along, poor girl she didn't have a chance even if she believed me. The other girl was freaked out and told me to stop joking it's not funny.
Only Anne was paying attention to me and she immediately went and grabbed her Indiana jones style messenger bag she never opens or let's people touch and says let's go, I gotta say I'm starting to like this girl, which sucks because the survival rate for anyone but me is about 2%
I give a last try to get them to come with us as me and Anne head for the door but the guys are going back to drinking with the girl that doesn't know you don't have sex in horror movies while the panicking girl tries to decide to stay or go seems like she decides numbers and a cabin are safer then running into the woods, classic mistake, anyway the panicky ones get others killed it's better to go with just Anne.
As we head for the front door the worst happens, I took too long and the music changes, no more just leaving and avoiding whatever is coming, I hope it's not a werewolf or anything else that's fast and sees in the dark as I turn us around and leave through the back door. Luckily the music fades as we run into the woods, about a mile in we hear screaming from behind but don't slow down, our friends will run or die either way they're distracting whoever or whatever's tearing them apart. No howling though that's a good sign, for me and Anne at least.
We're about a mile from the nearest major road, at this point I plan ahead escape routes, when the music starts getting louder, very fast. Great our friends only lasted about 15 minutes and whatever it is, is fast and somehow tracking us. And yea there it is something howling. I hate things that howl they're always fast and strong can see in the dark and usually track by smell.
Well time to break the news to Anne I tell her it's coming up on us and it was a pleasure meeting her, not many people believe me and that I wish we had bolted when the cars where an option. And then she drops a bomb that stops me in the middle of my ill always remember you since your gonna die and I'm not speech
"Don't worry it's just a hell hound I summoned to kill those assholes, you haven't been here long but they are bullies they blackmailed me into coming along to hook up with you. I guess they found you interesting because of what happened at your last school, thanks for trying to save me though it was sweet"
This shocked me the most because I knew she wasn't insane because the music suddenly shut off despite still hearing a large animal running towards us.
"Well, what now?" I ask because this is new for me and a dog the size of a bear just came out of the woods with blood dripping from its mouth, that's why I hate fast creatures even I can't outrun this thing if I'm it's only target.
"Well", she says taking a jar from her bag that contains a human heart, and yes I know it's human I've seen enough gruesome murders to tell, and feeds it to the hell hound who is acting like a puppy in front of her. "How about we go out to the diner on the highway since it's only about half a mile away and report the bear attack" she says winking "Then maybe after the grief counseling we can see a movie?"
I should be a little disturbed, or scared by this but I'm pretty desensitized to it by now and the fact she's blushing a bit makes me think she's serious "Well I say grinning I usually prefer to be the one to ask the girl out but since you beat me to it I'd love to"
"Great" she said smiling back and then made a sound I can't describe and the hell hound vanished in a burst of fire.
"So" I say as we walk towards the road holding hands "Are you a witch or something? It doesn't bother me I'm just preparing ahead my life is a series of horror movies"
"Yup" she said with a grin, "so don't expect to get rid of me soon didn't they tell you I really like horror movies?"
"I do think I heard that when I asked them if you where single" I said smiling back. Yea she may be a witch that murdered my new friends but hey how often am I gonna find a hot girlfriend that has a real chance of surviving my abnormalities?
Things could be worse I'll take a witch over a bitch any day | 'Oh God... Not again...!!!' I thought as those deep brass Inception style horns reverberated around me. I could kill Hans Zimmer for pioneering that sound, I hear them every day of my waking life, and this was no exception. I knew what was coming and it was time to start running.
This time I was in the woods with a girl named Chloe, we'd met previously at a bar in town. I was new here, wanted something to do so she offered to show me this old cabin down in the woods, previously owned by an old hunter who lived out here. A dirty mattress, some old fishing magazines covered in dust scattered the table in the kitchen and a threadbare rug lined the floor. Apparently it had been empty for years, Chloe liked to come down here and think, just to get away from it all. It was around 1AM and we were walking back to the car after sitting out on the porch on the old bench, drinking whiskey Chloe kept in the cupboard for special occasions when those all too familiar deafening horns kicked in.
In slow motion style I turned around to look back at the cabin, my eyes widened as they always do, and the flimsy door flew open and there he was. A man, maybe 6ft, standing, staring us down with a machete in his right hand. Well built, I couldn't really see what he was wearing, instead I turned back to Chloe and screamed 'RUUUUUUUUUN!!!!' pulling her with my hand. We were sprinting, but once again it always felt like slow motion, all of a sudden the drums kicked in around me. He was chasing us and fast, I could hear his boots hit the damp forest floor. 'Fuck!!' I screamed as the drums got quicker and quicker. He was getting closer. The horns were long gone and replaced with an almost tribal style pounding drum rhythm, pushing Chloe and I forward. I shouted at her to split, she bolted off to the left while I took the right. We hid behind trees, when all of a sudden everything went quiet. 'This is never a good sign' I thought.
I was too terrified to peek behind the tree to see what was going on. A piano note hit me, then another one. 'Oh not the piano! Please not the piano!' I silently begged. Still, it beats the creepy doll music I had yesterday. The piano notes were by themselves, but slightly in the distance meaning he was heading for Chloe. This time I poked my head around the tree and saw him creeping, one foot in front of the other. As each foot landed so did the piano note. Those dam atmospheric strings weren't helping my heart rate either. The piano started up again, the strings were getting louder and fuller, thicker even. The screech of the strings kicked in and the piano got ridiculously intense and fast, as I saw him leap for her, her screams didn't last long... Then silence.
The man walked off, leaving Chloe lying there. I heard the all too familiar piano again, this time it was lighter, and gentler, meaning I could breath a sigh of relief. It was over. I walked off and tried to locate my car, the piano gradually became the Hulk's Lonely Man theme, as it always does when these things are over. I hate this song, it signals that the next horrific scenario I have to go through is just around the corner and the whole cycle starts again.
---
Apologies for the slightly rushed feel, written in half an hour | 2016-12-31T22:42:12 | 2016-12-31T20:06:44 | 94 | 59 |
[WP] Everyone gets assigned their career based on a test they take at the age of 17. You get assigned the Presidency. No-one knows you cheated during the test. | My mother was a baker. My father was a salesman. I decided to be more.
I realized it early on- about the third time my mother burned herself badly enough to need to be hospitalized. The woman was brilliant- with an advanced and instinctive understand of abstract mathematics. Her greatest joy was teaching me the patterns in numbers, how everything derived from everything else, and her eyes blazed with intellect as we carved our way through equations, and yet she couldn’t make a simple cake without singing half the flesh from her hand.
The woman was a terrible baker.
My father had the soul of a poet. He wrote with passion, with brutal honesty, ripping himself open and bearing his very heart with his words. But the only ones who ever read those words were my mother and I, and his brutal tongue made him a terrible salesman. The man was incapable of telling others what they wanted to hear.
In the end, that was his downfall.
My mother and father knew the truth of The Test. Its metric wasn’t designed to put people in fields that best suited their talents, it was designed to put people where they could do no harm. It was designed to stifle ambitions, create a world of individuals complacent and accepting of a fate thrust upon them. It was designed to keep the outliers- the uniquely brilliant, those capable of changing this world- from ever fulfilling that potential. To stifle the talents of the truly gifted. To keep people like my mother and father from change the way people thought. From becoming revolutionaries.
The Test was designed to maintain the status quo, but it was only part of a greater system. The Test prescribed where people needed to go to prevent change, but The Society were there to keep them in their place.
My father and mother drew The Society's attention when the wrong person heard my father espouse his theories. They died, shortly after, when I am told a mis-wiring in my mother’s oven resulted in her bakery bursting into flames. They died burning, writhing, till nothing was left but embers and soot. No one had believed them, no one knew the truth of the world in which we lived. No one but me.
The Society left me alive, and waited. To see whether I would prove a threat. But I was nothing, I made sure I was nothing, as far as they could see there was no spark of intellect or ability in my mind. They watched nonetheless, growing more and more convinced of the emptiness of my mind.
But when you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back.
Soon, I was tailing those who had been tailing me, following them to their headquarters while they thought me asleep in my bed. I was listening to their meetings, making note of their weaknesses, and learning the nature of their relationship with The Test. The Test had been designed years ago, by one of the last geniuses allowed to reach their potential, a misguided soul who thought that what they were doing was the only path to true World Peace- curbing the ambition of those who would ruin such a peace before that ambition could flower. And they were right- but with no conflict, there was no change, and that had lead to the stagnated world that I was raised in. None of The Society could control The Test- none of them understood it. So I decided to learn what they were incapable of learning, the secrets of The Test. I found its designs, and spent three years deciphering them, until at last its secrets were mine.
The Test was given to everyone at age 17. At this point, we were set on our paths in life, paths we could never leave.
When it was my time to take The Test, so many years after The Society had taken my parents, I was ready. I knew just what to claim to produce the result that I desired. I made myself seem charismatic, but unintelligent. Malleable. Indifferent and easily placated.
The perfect figurehead.
Since The Test declared me the President, I’ve been working. Slowly but surely, beneath the noses of those who believe they control me. They’ll keep believing it, right up until the instant I take The Society out for good. Right until I destroy The Test forever. Until I once again unleash the potential and ambition of the human race.
Maybe that ambition will lead to war and to chaos. Maybe the greatest fears of The Society are justified. Maybe someone like me never should have been allowed to come to power. But after what they did to my parents, well…
I’m ready to watch the world burn.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
(Constructive criticism very much so welcome and appreciated. Thank you for reading.) | "Mom, I don't think I'm ready for this..."
"Sure you are! Who would've guessed it? My son, the President."
I guess she really didn't suspect anything. This guilt was eating at me but there was nothing I could do. If I confessed, I would be unemployed and kicked out of society like *them!* I chose to remain silent. I went up to my room to put on my suit. I began to get ready for my inauguration, when I heard a knock on the door. I answered it, only to find a man in a suit waiting for me.
"I am part of your new security detail Mr. President. I am here to escort you to the ceremony."
I guess this was going to be the rest of my life. I finished up my hair and we went on our way. In the car was the most deafening silence I had ever felt. My bodyguard gave me a look in the mirror, one of disgust, almost like he knew. I chose to ignore it. When I arrived I was quickly pulled away for the ceremony. The band played and the crowd went wild as I walked up to take the oath. Before we began, the Chief Justice whispered to me, "I know." I panicked and said the oath as best I could. I approached him after the ceremony. He only laughed and said in the most welcoming voice
"We've always known. It's why we chose you." | 2015-04-28T08:43:06 | 2015-04-28T08:40:37 | 85 | 22 |
[WP] An alien species well known in the galaxies for their biological weapons declare war on humanity, using their arsenal to try and dispatch them. It came as a huge surprise when they found out humanity already have developed immunity to these diseases hundreds of years ago. | General Xanthia of the Abaddon Dynasty had seen many things. She'd spoken with gods, toppled empires, and destroyed cities. She had met death in the flesh and laughed in his face. She'd slain all that dared to challenge her, ripping out their eyes and threading them onto her necklace of bones.
After a few dozen years of battling warlords with her well-stocked biological arsenal, however, she'd gotten cocky. Worse...she'd gotten bored. Bored enough to skip the usual kidnappings that preceded annihilation.
Bored enough to not even stop and think about the possibility that in her long, long life, something might come along. Something so powerful her strangest, most warped plagues could not land a scratch on them.
"Commander?" Yanath said, his pupilless eyes and gelatinous tentacles poking her tentatively. "What do you think we should do?"
Xanthia didn't want to think anymore. She'd thought enough. Her grip on the control board tightened, crushing the metal with superhuman strength as she spoke: "Get us down there."
If Yanath was surprised, he didn't show it. Translucent tentacles poked and prodded and pulled every lever possible, quivering ever so slightly as they pressed down on the buttons. Xanthia stared out at the civilization before them.
Huge constructs of metal and stone stared back at her. Strange, wheeled vehicles went down black strips of land. Colossal tubes of steel floated in the empty air, driving themselves into the cosmos above.
"How'd they advance so quickly?" Lucinium whispered, her two antennae twitching back and forth as she put her webbed hands on the windscreen. "It's impossible. At this rate, they'll have found the meaning of life in just a few more centuries."
"No." Xanthia said. "No. They will do nothing of the sort. We'll wipe them out before that happens. We made them, and we can destroy them."
"Our biggest hits landed nowhere," Yanath shot back. Xanthia glared lasers at him, only to be assaulted with screams. The humans were fleeing. She smiled gloatingly.
"See how they run?" she whispered. "I want that...for the whole of this planet."
**12 EARTH HOURS LATER**
"Impossible!" Xanthia roared, lifting up the table with both hands. The human in the chair nearly fell over at the sight, saved only by Yanath's surprisingly comfy tentacles. "You're telling me...that you grew up with these plagues...for centuries?"
The human nodded, one hand still kept over what Xanthia assumed was his core.
"Yes," the second human, a "microbiologist", replied. "These pathogens have been on this planet for ages. I'm sorry, how do you not know? You created us!"
Xanthia rolled her eyes. Typical. "Be thankful we created something here at all."
"That's not my point!"
"And here's *my* point, Ms-" she peered at the label, "-Donna. Your species was meant to be enslaved. Why are you not working right now? You should be slaving away in your Blackstone mines, not slaving away in this..." she breathed in the fresh, fragrant air and stopped talking.
"In this well-ventilated, cozy office?" the other human tried. Thankfully, he managed to dodge her dagger.
"Yes! I mean, no! I mean-"
"Look. Bacteria, viruses, they've been with us for centuries. Still are, in fact. There's probably some in here as we speak-" Donna stated plainly. Lucinium squeaked.
"What? They're in with us right now?"
Xanthia's heart began to pound. "Yanath..."
He didn't reply. He was too busy looking at his wristwatch. Xanthia looked down.
STATUS: INFECTED. PENDING TERMINATION IN EXACTLY 00:30 MINUTES. | The Gloxnar were feared across the universe, the ultimate conquerors. For millennia untold, they reigned and expanded, eventually setting their sights on earth. They thought it an easy victory. Single planet civilization, no real space warfare, and constant infighting. They launched their infamous biorails at earth, raining down deadly spores on the populous. They landed, expecting a fraction of the population to be alive. They were…surprised. The humans were unaffected, seemingly unaware of the deadly viruses surrounding them. The Gloxnar quickly retreated, back to the safety of their empire. This species must have been far more powerful than them, with a larger empire hidden amongst their side of the galaxy. They forbad contact with the humans, lest the first true universal war be started, and their legendary empire reduced to ash’s and rubble | 2022-12-15T23:04:03 | 2022-12-15T17:30:41 | 66 | 48 |
[WP] You have the most useless superpower in a world full of awesome superpowers. You are a laughinstock, that is until you start using your power for evil... no one is laughing now. | Growing up, I had always been an outcast. Everybody else in my class had amazing gifts: pyrokinesis, super strength, flight, laser eyes, invisibility, even the kid who could freely manipulate cloth. They were all praised and fawned over because of their gifts. But I was not.
My power is called "Roots." I can grow roots from the soles of my feet and extend them through whatever my foot is touching, at will. Nobody could see any use for it, and for the longest time, neither could I. As the only kid with a useless power, I was bullied, ostracized, and generally left behind. Even the teachers didn't intervene; their contempt for me was obvious.
Adulthood didn't change my circumstances in the least. I could only ever get the lowest paying, most demeaning jobs, simply because my gift was useless.
I finally realized the true potential of my ability only when I well and truly lost my temper. My boss was trying to stiff me on my hours worked, claiming I hadn't shown up to a shift when I had been the only one who had shown up.
"You're not getting paid for hours you didn't work, stop trying to steal from me just because you're useless! Get out of here, you're fired!"
And so I put my foot down, and rooted myself, intending not to move. However, I overdid it on the roots, as the floor began to crack and buckle, its structural integrity having been compromised by my roots. The look of terror on his face as the floor shifted under him brought a bright spark of glee to my heart.
I had always been the one cowering in terror. Never had I even imagined that someone would fear me. High on the sudden feeling of power, I disconnected myself from the roots and walked towards the man who was once my employer, and he backed up until he was up against the wall. Then, I very deliberately stepped on his foot and rooted myself again. I didn't even hear his screams, as a sensation of ecstasy and raw power rolled over me. My eyes rolled back in my head and my muscles all tensed and locked me in place, so great was the feeling as my roots drank.
Some time later, I honestly don't know how long, I came back to my senses. The corpse in front of me was riddled with my roots, the face frozen in a rictus of fear and agony. The floor was buckled in several parts of the room, showing a drop into the basement which was filled with a tangle of my roots.
Over the next few weeks, I experimented with my gift, seeing it in an entirely new light. Every time my roots drank, I gained more control over them and could grow them faster, further and thicker.
Finally, I made my first big appearance in the city, ready to demonstrate that I truly had the superior gift. I went to the city center, and rooted myself, extending my roots in all directions. The ground began to shake and car alarms began to go off. People began looking around in alarm, trying to figure out what was going on. They were the first to be taken by my roots. Overall, more than a thousand people were taken by my roots that day, and more than ten city blocks had subsided into a sinkhole I had created.
That was the day that I earned the moniker "Root of Disaster." | I was powerless. I was disowned by my superhero parents. Everyday I suffered with the bullies giving me the worst wedgies in school.
The day the gift came really made me happy. I immediately folded people in half --- crushing their beloved spines. 70% of the people of the city are now dead.
"Who's useless now?" I said and continued giving wedgies without remorse. | 2017-06-12T09:33:04 | 2017-06-12T06:49:33 | 29 | 15 |
[WP] You're a supervillain with a superhero as your arch-nemesis. When they come out to the world about their depression and mental health, others call them weak and there is backlash. You, however, are the first one to support them publicly. | The silence in the hall was oppressive, all eyes were on him. Dressed in a dazzling suit, he wore a huge "S" on his back - it was Shooter, the greatest hero of their time. But something was wrong, he neither laughed nor told any stories, instead he stared at the floor. Tense as a feather, he sat there, refusing to look the presenters or even the camera in the face. He was afraid.
"So -" the taller of the two presenters broke the silence, deliberately dragging out the word to make it clear how little he understood the hero, "you say you have depression?" With one eyebrow raised, they looked at him, expecting him to shake his head and assure them all that it was a joke.Dryly, the young hero swallowed, wishing himself to a faraway place, not for the first time, regretting all this.
"I-I'm on top of the world, .... the only person who can stop Breaker - I-I can't fail. N-not be weak. I have to win...but I can't do it anymore...", his voice became more and more slurred, only with effort he could suppress a sob, everything was so close to him. But the presenters had no sympathy for him, but they were not the only ones, on the contrary, they belonged to the majority with this reaction.
The audience was not on his side, everywhere in the world they made fun of him. After all, how could the richest and most successful man in the world be unhappy?
"Ah, how tragic, Mister Shooter." Hypocritically, the female co-host commiserated, wiping away an imaginary tear, "But I'm sure it'll get better" Encouragingly, she smiled at him, and Shooter almost made the mistake of believing her, as her eyes literally screamed for him to agree. Dryly, he swallowed as he realized that even this bit of pity was fake.
Disappointed, he shook his head; he had expected too much from people and decided he had had enough. With a sly smile, he agreed with the presenter - he would have, anyway, if the ceiling hadn't collapsed at that moment. Wildly, they all screamed in confusion, he noticed something. An intruder was there, having gained entry by force. Searching, his eyes slid through the hall, completely forgetting the humiliation, he concentrated everything to protect these people.
Then he spotted him and his heart skipped a beat. It was his nemesis, "the breaker." The atmosphere in the recording room was tense, the camera stood still, watching his every move, and then a slow, almost tentative clap sounded. Louder and louder it resounds through the huge shooting hall. A murmur went through the crowd, Shooter put his finger to the trigger and cursed his luck.
"Long time no see, Breaker." Shooter forced himself to break the silence, to draw all attention to himself. If it were up to him, he would bury himself deep and just forget about this whole day.
"What brings you to this beautiful studio, if you don't mind me asking?" He tried to elicit information from his counterpart and maybe even stall a little, but he wasn't kidding himself, Breaker was no novice.
"My dear Shooter, I wasn't actually planning on stopping by today, even villains need to take a day off sometimes, but then I saw your wonderful show you're shooting so beautifully right now - and I couldn't not visit. It was just too fun."
Then he turned his attention away from Shooter and turned instead to the presenters. He grinned jauntily at them from behind his mask and walked toward them, swaying his hips. "Well, Mister and Miss Moderator, I must say, respect. Even I, as a bad guy, have to tip my hat, I couldn't have done it better." Overwhelmed, they looked at him, not knowing themselves what he was talking about, but too intimidated to even think of a response.
As if the show would go on as usual, Breaker sat down on the sofa where the presenters had been sitting just a few minutes ago and made himself comfortable.
"Would you cut the rip cord on your parachute if you fell? No?" Surprised, he raised his eyebrow as if he couldn't believe them. "How funny, because that's exactly what you just did. You made a fool of the only person who can save you in front of several thousand people - only the an idiot would think of such a thing, right? Who do you think risked his life to stop me? Protected your pathetic lives? I would have expected more from you. Shooter is my nemesis, I have the right to attack, insult and ultimately kill him - you do not. If it weren't for Shooter, you'd all be seeing the turnips growing out of the ground by now." With a grim grin, he threw back his head and burst out laughing. Briskly, he rose and gave Shooter a quick wink. With the corners of his mouth twitching, Breaker watched as the camera crew abruptly took a step back.
"I think my day of rest is officially over." Then he turned his head to the cameraman and fixed him with his gaze. Before the man was even able to scream, Breaker already had him. Like a child who had found a new toy and now wants to show it to his friends, Breaker walked back in front of the camera and presented the kicking cameraman, whose face was slowly turning blue.
"So let me ask you a question: How many people are watching this wonderful show right now?" Expectantly, he looked at the cameraman. Desperately, the cameraman struggled in his grip, in a vain attempt to wriggle out of it, until he realized that he would run out of air before he could do so. Panic spread through his eyes at the thought of dying, and so he was all the more desperate to answer the question.
"Eight hundred thousand nine hundred," he pressed out with difficulty, expecting to be spared. But Breaker seemed to have forgotten him, completely lost in thought he looked at the ruined ceiling.
"Eight hundred thousand nine hundred, I guess I'll have some work to do then" he muttered indistinctly and slowly a smile appeared on his lips. | I looked at the reporters and snarled. "Get the fxck out of my way." They were still here, with their microphones stuck out to me.
"Death Wish! What do you think of Iced's depression?" One of them asked. "Do you think he's being weak?" Another one shouted.
"No." I stared at the brunette. "He's not weak. And I think it's his thing, not yours." She looked at me and came a bit closer.
"You are defending him, why? From our informations, you tried to kill him 38 different times in public and who knows how many times in total. So why are you being on his side so suddenly?" She asked, getting on my nerves.
"I'm pretty sure that's none of your business." I cut it short. "Now move or I'll kill you."
"But Death Wish! You can attack when he's weak! Why didn't you attack already?" Another one asked. This time it was kinda cute blonde guy.
"As I said it's none of your business." I growled at him. Why does they care so much?
"Death Wish! Do you li-" I didn't let the other one finish her's sentence. I shot there a dark arrow, hitting the red head right into hers heart. She fell to the ground death while screams of terror and panic raised.
"Now get the fxck out of my way, or you'll end up as the little red head over there." I said, grinning.
"You are monster!" Someone from the crowd shouted. "I am." I answered calmly. "Do you want to join your friend?"
After a while of silence I laughed. "That's what I thought." And I walked off, killing everyone who tried to follow me.
When I finally got to my house, I went in and went to the basement. Only to find Iced to sit there with his head hidden in his arms.
"Hey Charlie.." I started, scaring him a bit.
"I hate you." He said. "I hate all of you. Everyone can go fxck themselves and I wouldn't care!" He yelled out with tears running down his cheeks.
"Iced.." I looked at him. It was sad seeing him like this.
"It's Charlie." He looked up at me, coming closer. "I missed you Xane. I- this is wrong. I am supposed to hate you!" He broke down again.
I couldn't say anything. He was right, this was wrong, but still it happened and honestly, what would you think? We are teenagers, stuff like this happens. I hugged him. "It's okay Charlie. Everything is okay now, no one needs to know this. Okay?" I smiled, kissing his fore head.
"I hate how much I love you." He whispered into my chest still covered in my black costume. "Don't you ever try to leave me."
"I won't." I smiled. "I couldn't. I adore you too much for it."
This was wrong. We were supposed to hate each other, not this. But somehow this moment, this one when I held him in my arms, mumbled sweet nothings in his hair and promised him that I will never let go, this just felt right. | 2022-06-21T12:57:47 | 2022-06-21T12:39:45 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] Deeply misunderstanding the term "universal healthcare", aliens have begun arriving in Canada, seeking medical attention. Canadians, being Canadian, are too polite to correct them. | Doctor Fern sat down on his favorite swivel chair and sighed. He closed his eyes after a long day of work. To his annoyance, the receptionist burst in hysterically.
"I thought I made it clear that we are closed for the day!" Doctor Fern said.
This was strange—considering how the receptionist was the type to follow rules and procedures.
"Yes but..." The receptionist's voice trailed off.
Doctor Fern stood up and walked over to the receptionist. Trying his best to be patient-which isn't really doing much, he jabbed his stubby finger at the schedule on the wall. "Tell me, what does the time slot say at this time?"
"We're closed, but," the receptionist stood up straighter now and pointed at the sign outside, "The clinic's motto is *Refuse No One*."
Doctor Fern relented, knowing that it isn't right to take out his pent-up stress on his receptionist—the receptionist wasn't the type to give up easily anyway. "Send them in."
A strange alien walked in, a green figure with a large head and large, dark eyes. It had a gash wound over its' arm, oozing out a deep syrup-like liquid. In a strange accent, it spoke, "Greetings earthling. We, of the Xaorg," The alien made a weird salute to the ceiling, "have come to claim this 'universal healthcare' program of yours."
Doctor Fern was affixed to the ground, he had no idea what to make of this strange alien before him. Doctor Fern remembered his training and that he had to try to be as professional as possible.
Doctor Fern straightened his doctor's gown and said, "Erm... of course, of course. Do sit down." Doctor Fern gestured to a comfortable chair on the other side of his desk.
The alien sat down and needless to say-it wasn't exactly pleased with the doctor.
Doctor Fern sat at his large wooden desk, a neat folder cabinet to his left and a metal cup of pens and pencils to his right. Doctor Fern interlaced his fingers and said to the alien, "Do you have a name?"
The alien said, "My name is longer than any word you know. It is incomprehensible to your feeble mind. Just close this wound." The alien pointed to the large gash, "Use the bandage, specification: roller."
Doctor Fern was not exactly paying attention to what the alien was saying—rather, he was intrigued at the strange anatomy of the alien. From the proportions to the bone structure. He wanted to study everything.
The alien stared at him, and waited for a response. The alien wondered why the human race was such a dumb species. The human's ability to process information was surely lacking.
"Right, right. Bandage." Doctor Fern recovered. He walked over to the roller bandages and patched up the wound on the alien.
Years of experience couldn't prepare him for what happened next. The alien absorbed the bandage, and the wound got slightly smaller.
"Need more. Give whole roll." The alien said.
"Ah... sorry." Intrigued, the doctor handed him the entire box, filled with dozens of bandages. Doctor Fern leaned forward, observing it's strange process of healing.
As the alien was applying the bandage, going from one roll to another, Doctor Fern said, "So tell me, where did you get this wound?"
The alien paused and looked at him, "The laser of the enemy blaster grazed me. We of the Xaorg," Again, the alien did the same weird salute, "are in a war with the Gerd. We heard of this 'universal healthcare' so we come."
The alien went back to mending his arm. After around half a minute of awkward silence, the alien stood up and merely said, "Goodbye and thank you earthling."
The doctor stood up as well and said, "Have a good day now!"
The alien spat at him—a formal way of saying goodbye in their culture. Doctor Fern ignored this supposed insult and said, "Right, please go to the doctor across the street next time. He is much better at treating aliens than I."
The alien spat again in acknowledgement and walked out the door.
After the alien left, Doctor Fern hobbled back to his favorite swivel chair and closed his eyes. He wondered what other weird alien species he would possibly see next. Doctor Fern didn't even get a few seconds of relaxation before his receptionist burst in once more, eyes wide open, "Doctor... There are 400 aliens waiting in the lobby and lined up outside the door."
~~Didn't proofread yet, I'll do it in a few hours :( (Might extend story/dialogue later as well)~~
r/chocolatechipwp <-just gonna leave this here
| "Sir, like i said we don't know how to treat you at all, we don't have the knowledge for your anatomical structure". Doctor exhaustingly explained it to the 8th neighbour from the space.
"Sorry Well, I mean it's just a colon cancer, back home I gotta pay a fortune for it. You ever had to sell your space car for a cancer treatment?"
"That's not the point, we would treat you but it's just your what we call an anus is located on your face".
"Please, we've come a long way".
"I'm sorry but i'm not even sure if i should recommend you a dentist or not".
"Why don't you just take a look at my colon? Please you have to. I need to see my son graduate".(starts touching dr with his six fingered hands over his face since that means 'i need help')
"Okay okay (dr brushes off some goo from his face) we'll put you on the patient lists".
"But we waited 5 hours sitting in that room to see you"
"Sorry but we are short staffed with myself as a dr alone in this hospital. Other people wait at least 4 hours to see us. And please you are wasting other's time. I'll have nurse joey to escort you out. (Calls nurse joey) btw may i ask Who said that our medicare system Was for 'universal'?"
"I received an email long time ago saying This country has free health care 🤔"
"May i ask who that person is?"
"Nigerian prince was his name" | 2017-02-27T09:52:59 | 2017-02-27T09:25:12 | 377 | 114 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell, we're the demons, and you've just been summoned. | So you're in line getting tacos, right, like you do every Friday for lunch. It's a beautiful day, the sun is out, not a cloud in the sky. Seventy-five degrees, light breeze, absolute perfection. You order *dos de pollo* in your shitty Spanglish, hand the man three bucks through the dingy frosted window, and pause a moment to breath deep -- that salty, burnt, fatty goodness that smells like angels fuck -- that sulfurous, rotten-egg -- wait, what?
This shit again.
So then you're standing in a circle, alone, with your tool belt, your hard hat, your cell phone, a tamarind soda and absolutely no fucking tacos de pollo with onions and crema. Fuck. This. Shit. You resolve for the umpteenth time to be less good at your job.
*Remember your protocol.*
"Oh, gracious master," you bow, making obeisance before the thin-lipped, bearded asshole standing in front of the circle and the book and the candles looking inordinately pleased with himself. "How may I be of service, most gracious one?"
Sniff sniff. Putrid, acrid. Tallow, not beeswax. A fucking newbie, or worse, a goddamn cheapskate.
**"I am thy master now, demon!"**, thin-lipped shit booms. **"Thou art ensorcled by the hand of Dextrogast the Mighty! First of his name and first among the Leaden Ring!"** Newbie. Fine, whatever.
You remove your hard hat and straighten up. They like it when you remove the hat. Your arms, wide.
*Just roll with the punches, it will all be over soon.*
"I grovel before your magnificence, good Might. To what end my I pledge my service to the ends of the Leaden Ring?"
**"Thou hast been chosen, demon, for a task of great import, one uniquely suited to thy devilry! Thy master the Mighty hath scoured long the Books of Perdition and at last deciphered thy name! I bind thee to my will, Michael Thompson of Airmax Technologies, Rochester, New York, 14623!"**
When will they stop printing the Yellow Pages?
*Just say the words, do the thing. Faster. You might be able to break the bonds of a weaker sorcerer, sure. But if they can bring you in, they can send you back just as easy. Better that way. Let them do the driving. Pay it forward. Go home happy.*
"My will is yours, good Might, your wish my desire with utmost certainty. Pray tell the nature of your need."
Thin-lipped shitfuck draws himself up to his full height, chest swollen with pride. Wonder if you're his first. **"This Infernal Machine was created for my grandsire by thy demon-kin. Its power wavers. Fix it for me, or ne'er be free!"** He's pointing... at a... refrigerator?
Sigh.
*Even wizards make mistakes.*
"Oh, good Might," a deeper bow. "But in this I am unworthy to be your servant."
**"Does thou defy me, demon! My wroth is great and my punishment most -- most severe!"**
"It's just -- you see, good Might, I'm an air conditioner technician. That's a refrigerator. I mean, I can take a look at the wiring diagram and troubleshoot it if the problem is electrical, but if it's mechanical or the coolant you're going to need an actual fridge repair guy with the right stuff to recharge."
Thin-lips falters. **"So... so what am I to do with The Infernal Machine?"**
Sigh. The smoke from the animal-fat candles is burning your nose. "Let me see the pho-- the Book of Perdition you summoned me from." A suspicious look. "I swear upon my name not to leave or break the circle until I have shown you the name of a demon who can fix your Machine."
Gingerly he hands over the book. Flip flip flip. Refrigerator repair. "Do you have a pen?" Blank stare. "Um... charcoal stick? A quill?"
He seems to understand and hands over a well-sharpened number 2 pencil. You circle the name and number of a fridge tech.
"Great. Okay, just summon this guy next time your Infernal Machine needs work. And make sure to do the full summon between 8am and 4pm local time so that you can get all of his equipment in too. He might need some of the big stuff." You offer the book back to the sorcerer.
*Pay it forward.*
"Oh, and try not to summon between 12 and 1 pm local time, okay? I don't know what time zone you're in, and I know the cross-dimensional conversion is kind of hard, but no one likes being summoned on their lunch break."
He takes the book silently, glaring suspiciously.
"Also, uh... this line work is a little shoddy. See the edges of the pentagram bleeding a bit here? I really wouldn't have any difficulty at all breaking out of this summoning, even if I didn't know what I was doing. And a newbie demon getting out of the circle is the last thing you want. Try to keep the lines as clean as possible."
**"Thou came well-recommended, I see, for good reason, demon. You have the thanks of Dextrogast the Mighty."**
"And use beeswax next time, that smell is awful. Are you fully satisfied with your summoning, good Might?"
**"It shall suffice."**
A blink and a stink, and you're back in the real world, the rotten-eggs-stench lingering. Wonder how long that fridge had been out.
In the distance the taco truck rolls out of the parking lot, kicking up dust as it goes.
Typical wizard shit. | “I have summoned and bound you, demon! You will listen and obey.”
“Uh, sure. Whatever you say, boss.” Michael tried to make out some features of whatever was talking but it was obscured by a dark, heavy robe complete with a hood. “I do whatcha ask and then you send me back. You’ll send me home, right?”
“I am the master here! I will say when you go.”
“Well that’s not fair. Not fair at all. I was just sitting, drinking a beer after work and poof. I’m here. I didn’t know I could even poof. And hell, you didn’t even poof my beer. I would appreciate a beer after being poofed.”
“You will spoke when spoken to!”
“Ah, to hell with this.” Michael took a step but hit something that felt like cling wrap pulled off leftovers heated in a microwave. It was uncomfortably warm but not hot enough to burn.
“My wards bind you! I am the master here. I am your master.”
“I said, to hell with this!” He dropped his shoulder, braced and pushed forward. The cling wrap stuck to him but it snapped in a moment. He grabbed the robed figure by the collar and picked it up, a little shocked by how light it was.
“The wards. The books said they’d work. The wards, they can’t be broken. The wards...”
“Knock it off,” Michael roared. He pulled its hood down. “Well, you ain’t nothing but I child. I mean, you an ugly child, but just a child.”
“I am no such thing. I am Olassin, head of House Olazuim, the third of his name. I have ruled for two decades and brought my house fortune and fame.”
“Forturne and fame huh?” Michael sniggered. “You think I’m a demon. And moreso, you meant to bring me here. Folks doing well don’t need to seek out demons.”
Olassin shuffled its feet. It opened its mouth and then closed it again, dropping its gaze to the floor.
“That’s what I thought.” Michael put the little child-man down and asked, “You can poof me back here any time, right?”
Olassin nodded.
Michael let out a long, exaggerated sigh. “I’m going to fix your problem, whatever it is, and in return, you send me home and never poof me again. Agreed?”
Olassin nodded, a grin suddenly on its face.
“But first, you gonna poof my beer for me. I’m gonna need it to get through this crap.”
edit: typo | 2017-05-12T08:58:50 | 2017-05-12T08:18:29 | 1,714 | 617 |
[WP]Your first wife/husband died, you remarried, and then you and your second wife/husband both die together. In the afterlife you awkwardly must introduce your current spouse to your deceased one.
Technically, both your current and former spouse are both deceased, but you get what I meant. | There was so, so much that we assumed wrong about the afterlife.
Imagine the largest field you can, on the most perfect day for a picnic, where the grass underfoot is soft, and the breeze is gentle on your face. And imagine that there are more people than you’ve ever seen before in one place, but there’s no din, no bustle, just endless time and opportunity for people to finish what they never ended.
I saw Randy first, and we hugged tightly as the tears flowed. His youth had been restored to him, and the spring was back in his step. I too had been rejuvenated, and I suddenly felt lighter than a feather, with the arthritis, rickety joints and decrepit bones all taken away.
“Randy Tellerson? Is that you?”
He turned, and for a moment confusion ruled his face. Perhaps the Randy back on earth would never have made the connection, what with the frailties of an aged mind, but here, here Randy pulled through.
“Emma? Oh my goodness, Emma, it’s really you,” he stuttered. Randy turned to me, gestured, and said, “Emma, I want you to meet the woman I married after you passed, this is Sara.”
Randy had almost never spoken of her. I had pressed, of course, whenever we came across a picture of her, or old documents with her name floated up, but he had frequently instead fallen back on his common refrain of “what’s past is past”, wearing that inscrutable smile of his.
She was far prettier than I had expected. There was a radiant sharpness to her features, a certain mischief twinkling in her eyes which lent an air of mystery to her. So this was Emma, the Emma who had shaped Randy to become the person he was.
“So you’re the thing he settled for, it seems?” she said, chuckling as we shook hands. “I suppose you’re the best he could get after me, am I right?”
“I’m sorry?” I said, even as I noticed Randy grow quiet, turning his gaze away, holding his tongue.
“Oh come on, there’s nothing wrong with speaking your mind here, judgment has already been passed! So tell me, did he also swear to you that he would work harder, earn more money, give you a better life too? Is that why you married him?”
“I don’t… think that is…”
Emma laughed, shrilly, and curious eyes turned to watch us. “Well, that’s how he got me! Just promises and plans which never materialized! Did you know, in the ten years we were married, not once did we get to travel out of the country? Not once did we ever buy a new car? I died wearing the same ring passed down in his family for decades, and not the solitaire he said he would get me!”
The smile had frozen on my face – I was beginning to understand.
“I waited by his side for all that time, even though everyone told me to leave! Bah, wasted youth! It’s just my own bad luck then, wouldn’t you say, that I chose to spend my life with someone like him? In a way, I’m glad I died young, it meant that I could get here sooner, spend my existence amongst people who are better worth my time.”
She turned to Randy again, and this time, her beauty had taken on a crystalline, icy edge. The arresting glint to her eyes were hard, cruel, unforgiving, and the elegance I admired just moments ago seemed tainted with an insatiable spite.
“See you around never, Randy, and whatever your name is.”
Emma strode off into the crowd, already waving to other friends she had made on this plane of existence.
Randy gripped my hand tightly. “I’m sorry you had to hear all that… I wish I had provided better for her, got her the medical treatment she needed then. I hope… you were not as unhappy as she was.”
I hugged Randy again, and this time I really pulled him in close, gripped him as tightly as I could, till I could hardly breathe myself.
I thought of our three children back on earth, who had all grown up strong, wise and kind, under Randy’s firm and judicious guidance.
I thought too of our modest but proud home, a little apartment in a less than stellar neighbourhood, but which had been the source of overwhelming warmth, laughter, and love, for the entirety of the forty years I spent with Randy.
I also thought of how we had both passed on together, he first because he was slightly older, and how he had told me just before he closed his eyes for the last time then that he hoped he had given me everything I wanted in life. I was too weak myself then to say so, but the answer was yes, always, always yes.
“Don’t be silly,” I said, nuzzling against his ear. “We have each other now. Everything else… what’s past, is past.”
---
/r/rarelyfunny | "I thought you said you only loved me, forever and ever?" Julia yelled, as soon as I told her about Amy.
I stared beyond the pearly gates, looking at the other denizens sauntering happily in, eager to start their afterlife. I dug my feet into the white cloud, momentarily amazed that they felt like cotton candy, then back at Julia with dread. I had wanted to tell Julia about Amy, but the moment never seemed right. We got married too fast, and we died too fast as well.
I reached out for Julia's hand but she took a step away from me. Her eyes were already moist. The exact reason why I hesitated to tell her back on earth. The other souls shot us curious glances. People arguing is something that you don't often see in heaven.
I let my hand hang in the air. "Look, Amy was a story from long time ago, back when I was young. I wanted to tell you eventually!"
Julia shook her head, tears already rolling down her cheeks. "But you know how I feel about love and soulmates. There is only one in our lifetime! Am I supposed to share you now with this woman called Amy? For eternity?"
I sighed. James was right. Marrying someone who has never been in a relationship before at her 50s was not a right choice. But I was a lonely man with not many friends.
"Come on Julia, I'm sure we can talk this out? Lets see how other couples do it here, and maybe we can work something out?" My hand was already beginning to feel numb, but still she refused to budge.
"You either choose me or her," she hissed through her gritted teeth.
And that folks, was how I ended up in hell.
------------
/r/dori_tales | 2017-04-23T09:40:58 | 2017-04-23T08:43:30 | 196 | 52 |
[WP] Instead of three regular wishes, the genie gives you 10 one-word wishes. | I had to think for a few minutes. Could I wish for fortune or luck. No, that might be good or bad. And who would it be for? Tales of genies sometimes described them as cruel. Who knew what type of evil I could visit on the world with a poorly chosen single word. I ran my fingers through my receding hair. I looked back to the genie, bands of metal around its wrists and neck.
I knew what I had to do.
"First wish," I pointed to the genie. "Honest". I fell silent and waited for the light show.
The genie squinched up its eyes in puzzlement. "Very well, I will make you honest."
"No."
"No?"
I pointed at the genie again. "I wished for you to be honest."
The genie swirled around me. An impression of desert winds crossed my mind and the fear of dying in a sandstorm. "You only used a single word, human. I can fulfill your drivel of a wish anyway I desire."
I smiled. "You placed no limit on body language. This wish is for you genie." I only now lowered my outstretched hand.
The genie drifted back and forth across the hilltop we stood upon. The ruins underneath us were thousands of years old. What devastation had been visited upon these people in that forgotten age? And had this spirit delivered it to them? Its lamp sat with the spot I had polished clean brightly shining, but otherwise covered in the dust of ancient toppled stones and buried bones.
The genie looked at me and snorted. "Fine." It snapped its fingers and the world shuddered. Stones from the excavated walls in the pit to my left fell, shattering the collection of pottery fragments I had been assembling when I found the lamp.
"It is done."
"You are now honest?"
The genie made no move to affirm or deny.
"Second wish." I pointed again at the genie. "Answer."
The genie sighed a breeze that sounded of rustling palms. "I am honest."
Even honest men, sometimes tell lies from time to time. This wish would not save me from every deception. Especially if I had to use a wish for every answer.
"My next wish." I pointed again at the genie. "Kind."
The genie bristled, sparks dancing around its head, but it snapped its fingers again. The resulting thunder clap deafened me for a few minutes afterward. When I finally came to my senses I saw the softened expression of the genie staring back at me.
It whispered a cool draft through a open window, "I am kind."
I would continue to mold the genie for my next six wishes, to be as certain as possible my true wish would be granted both fairly and generously. I wished for the genie to be helpful, so they would grant the wish to my benefit and to the world. I wished for them to be forgiving, so it would not seek revenge for me wishing to force its nature nor revenge against humanity for its bondage. I wished for it to be thoughtful, because a wish kindly granted in haste can still be disastrous. I wished for it to be patient, because even with great power some things can only be done in the fullness of time. I wished for it to be hopeful, because a creature given to despair is a danger to itself and others. And finally I wished for it to be wise, because no matter how long and deep one looks for a kind answer to a need, one will only find it if they look in the correct direction.
My preliminary wishes complete, I squared my shoulders ready to proclaim my wish that may shake the world to dust if I was wrong in my judgement. I placed my hand over my heart.
The genie had subsided to a faint dust devil swirling beside my feet. The currents of air came together again so it rose up and over me. The gathering wind promised a torrent of rain upon the desert tonight.
"What is your final wish, human?"
"My final wish," I said clutching my chest. I raised my hand and pointed to the genie.
"Free." | [poem]
IF WISHES WERE FISHES
Quoth the genie to the child
I’m not so old and not so new
My ears have heard primordial stew
Mine eyes the stars with trains of fire
Do not tempt my wrath and ire
The child was young and trembling blue
Chattered out the words it knew
Warm
Safe
Friends
Joy
Home
Mom
Dad
Toys
Sunshine
Trees
Bees
Bread
The genie laughed and shook its head
Tell you what I’m going to do
a bakers dozen then for you
It’s more than 10 and 12 won’t do
I’ll add a bed that’s just for you
The genie vanished and in its place
It left no memory and no trace
The child woke up with wishes true
No longer cold, no longer blue. | 2022-03-09T05:16:54 | 2022-03-08T23:13:56 | 57 | 30 |
[WP] A fortune teller foretold that twins would be born where one was evil and the other was good. A year later, a woman gave birth to a boy with horns and bat wings, and a girl with angel wings and a halo. The boy was sent away, while she and her husband raised the girl. They kept the wrong one. | An ancient fortuneteller, with a crooked and hunched body, possibly born more than two centuries ago came to them in the night. And using many ancient runes, and old sigils, she foretold the inevitable future, of the children born from the woman. One would be evil the other would be good. And when the two children were born, it seemed to them obvious which child was which. One was a scrawny and small boy, with leathery bat-like wings, dark red pupils, a head of ebony hair, and small goat horns protruding from his forehead. The other was beautiful, born with long platinum hair, gentle golden pupils, a small odd golden halo floating above her head. And snow-white feathery wings on her back.
At first they wanted to slay the boy, but even then, they could not bring themselves to end the life of a newborn babe. Instead, they sold the boy to a travelling merchant, and kept the girl. In this, they considered themselves wise, and lucky. Lucky that they had been warned, and that the signs had been so obvious. They praised their little girl to the village, where she became the luck of the people there, the mascot of the village. Beloved by all.
The boy was taken away, fed on goat's milk and the merchant did not return to that village. The girl was raised with all the love and attention that such as she could get. Treated with reverence and love, she lacked for nothing. And yet, while the adults of the village saw nothing, the other children, they started to notice something was off. Accidents happened. Older villagers died. Many children found that strangely, when the girl with the angel wings pushed them, or punched them, the adults never believed them. She tormented them, killing their pets, stealing their treats, and whenever they tried to retaliate, they were ruthlessly punished by their parents.
The boy grew up in far away lands, where beings like him, supernaturally changed, were more normal. The merchant who had brought him, sold him again when he was but two, to a kindly old herbalist, who needed a young pair of eyes to help her make her potions. She taught him about kindness, about reason, about the importance of using the knowledge of herbs, alchemy, and some mild magic, to cure the ill, and help the needy.
As the girl grew up, she became haughty. The priests of the faith proclaimed her an angel, and gifted her with many fine things. Scented perfumes, fine necklaces, beautiful rings. Silk dresses, and fine tunics. Knights came to ask for her hand in marriage when she became of age. But she spurned them all. And she was still cruel. The other children in the village, having grown up with her, distrusted her. Feared her even. More than one of them had seen her true face, and among themselves whispered that the wrong child had been sent away.
The boy with the horns, eventually had to take over the shop, as the old herbalist became too weak. He tended the shop, made the potions, with the careful instruction of his weakened adoptive mother, and became known as a kind and friendly young man. He was known to be helpful, and affable. And he became great in the art of healing. While having demonic features made some people wary, his warm red eyes, his open smile, generous nature, and his free laughter, eventually penetrated the paranoia of all but the most odd of people.
The girl, with her angelic traits, was eventually courted by the crown prince of the kingdom she lived in, and that proposal of marriage, she accepted. Her marriage was garish, and ostentatious. While the power as crown princess was great, she wanted to become more. She aimed for the highest of powers, and using her charm, she managed to get close enough to the king, that she could kill him. When her husband inherited the throne, she used a carefully maintained spell to render him feeble and unable to rule. Then she took the title of regent, ruling in her poor husband's stead. And she did not rule with angelic grace, or kindness. She raised taxes, reintroduced serfdom to many who had been freed, and bore monstrous children. None were trueborn, but whoever dared to point that out, lost their head, and the executioner's work was never done. They had to hire several underlings for him to aid with executing those that conspired against the ruling queen, those that no longer amused her, and those that she just wanted to see die for the sheer thrill of controlling life and death.
The boy took over his adoptive mother's store after her death, burying her, and visiting her grave once a week. One of the people like him, those with odd traits that lived in the city he did, a girl with a mouse's tail and a tapered nose, with cute whiskers wriggling in the air, asked him on a date. They ate together at the inn, and walked in the moonlight together. He wasn't a muscular man, but as he grew his once scrawny body had filled out to a lean and agile thing, and he was quite the tall fellow, a veritable beanpole. They dated for a while, and eventually, the boy asked the mousy girl to marry him. It was a humble and small affair. Shortly after they moved in together, in the old house of the herbalist, the mousy girl grew in size. A girl first, then a son, and then another daughter. Soon the sound of happy, laughing children could be heard in the house. It was a home, the two of them working together, keeping the herbal garden, making medicine together, raising beautiful children, with mousetails and batwings.
The angelic girl had changed. No longer did her golden eyes seem pure, but seemed tainted as they moved from side to side in evil paranoid thought. Her platinum hair was falling out, and her wings barely had any feathers on them. Her halo, floating above her head, no longer gleamed with pure light, but only barely shone, like the last few embers in the fireplace. That was how the army of peasants, rising up, found her. As she had ripped out the throat of her husband, the poor king, only a few moments before. Wielding a long thin blade, she charged the emaciated peasants with a horrible laugh. And though she killed many with blade and spell, she was eventually skewered on an old pitchfork. The kingdom, broken, ruined, and infested with the monstrous children she had birthed, could finally rebuild. But it would be a long time before that land was as good as it had once been.
The boy heard only little about this, being hundreds of miles away. He never did learn that this evil queen, so pure in visage, but so vile in nature, was his own sister. He lived a good long life, curing the ill, aiding those in need, earning good money on his business, and after many years, he grew old. He saw his children married, teaching them each the trade, the eldest child took over the handling of the shop, while the other two moved to other cities, each carrying with them a book that the demon-seeming boy had written, about the herbs of the land, their uses, and recipes for healthy potions and tinctures of vitality. When he died, he was lying in bed, surrounded by his family. His old wife, mousy and sweet, holding his hands. While his children, all three of them showing signs of ageing, stood at the end of his bed. Around him were many grandchildren. And in his hands, he held his first great-grandson. He spoke of how blessed his life had been, how he wanted his family not to mourn, but to know that he loved them. And that his life had been worth living.
[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/)
Pst, little spin-off story [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/comments/ggo44x/a_healing_hand_to_the_ruined_kingdom_came/?) | [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/MatiWrites/comments/gfcjvp/mistaken_angels_part_2/) is up!
[Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/MatiWrites/comments/gfxr5h/mistaken_angels_part_3/)
It couldn't have been more obvious. Two children, just as the prophecy predicted. Darius horned with jagged, black wings. Lucy angelic in her perfection, down to the snow-white wings and the glowing, gold halo hanging above her head like the sun above the land.
"Banish him," they decided. Mother cried. Father didn't, but his eyes betrayed his sadness. He'd longed for a boy, anguished over the prophecy night after night.
By a morsel of mercy built on hope and dashed dreams, he couldn't bring himself to kill Darius. He dug the demon-child the deepest dungeon, fortified it with concrete walls and buried it beneath enough material to build a hundred cities.
And then he returned to their perfect daughter, the sparkle in her smile and those mesmerizing eyes that swirled like the galaxy itself.
"She's the savior," Father said, trying to convince himself. So he raised her as such.
If the world needed anything, it was a savior. Luscious forests had long since turned to desert. The oceans had retreated to over-sized ponds, leaving skeletons of ten-thousand species in their wake. Even the fate of humanity faltered, teetering on the edge of a bottomless well. The remnants warred amongst themselves, dying one by one.
She should have saved them. She could have saved them. She didn't.
Loud praise turned to hushed conversations. Happiness in her parents' eyes turned to stolen glances as she grew into her true self. Not into the person they'd tried to mold, who they'd tried so desperately to fit to the prophecy.
"Is it us?" Father asked. Had she been born a savior just to gravitate towards the brother they'd discarded? "She's become evi--"
"Don't say it," Mother hissed. "Don't you dare say it. She's just troubled, that's all. It's a lot of pressure to put on a kid."
Troubled? Troubled barely began to describe her.
She'd cause havoc if they let her out of sight, grin devilishly when they caught her. The calls from the teacher had become routine, the meetings with the principal, too. Worried parents lobbied to have Lucy expelled. They signed petitions. They pulled their kids from the Academy.
All the while, Lucy listened impassively to their complaints. She shrugged them off and stuck with the story that *she* was the savior. That they should bow to her.
"What if we guessed wrong?" Father said, daring to say out loud his creeping suspicion. "What if Lucy wasn't the one we were supposed to keep? Looks can be deceiving."
*We judged a book by its cover and are paying the price.*
"We'll never know," Mother answered. "We made our decision."
"We could know." He pulled the diagrams of the dungeon he'd built, traced a line on the map of the path she'd have to take.
"How? He's gone."
"Is he?"
The prophecy had said he would save the world that so desperately needed saving. It said nothing of evil, whether it'd perish in the darkness of a dungeon or fester like mold until it choked out what little life was left. If he was good, he'd live to fulfill the prophecy. And if he wasn't? She'd find the rotted corpse of her brother, realize what she could have been and return a new person.
*And if he was good and we turned him evil? If nurture usurped nature?*
He didn't share his thoughts, dark as they were. That bottom of the well that they were so close to reaching.
In the sparsely furnished living room, they sat Lucy down. She eyed them suspiciously, one eyebrow raised as they presented her the mission.
"A long lost brother?"
"Darius," Father said. "With wings and eyes black as night."
"An evil brother," Lucy said. She smiled, her eyes glowing at the thought of adventure. At the thought of vanquishing the other half of the prophecy.
Father nodded. "We buried him so that he wouldn't destroy humanity. But he might be doing it anyways. You need to save us. Show the world that you're the savior we need."
*That we were right to bury him and not you.*
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/MatiWrites/comments/gfcjvp/mistaken_angels_part_2/) is up!
[Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/MatiWrites/comments/gfxr5h/mistaken_angels_part_3/)
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | 2020-05-07T08:01:39 | 2020-05-07T07:29:33 | 2,663 | 1,694 |
[WP] You made a deal with the devil to become rich. He then tells you that fortune will be yours, but there is a curse. For every $1000 you spend, a random person on the Earth will die. Congratulations! You just won $250,000,000. | “Please, come in, Ms. Lewis,” I greeted the young woman at the door with a hearty handshake, noticing how sweaty her palms were. I can relate; I’m always a nervous wreck during job interviews. So I ushered her into my office and gestured at the open chair in front of my desk. She took one step over the threshold and then let out a ‘Yelp!’ of surprise. Sitting in the other chair was a gargantuan monster with red skin, ram’s horns spiraling out of its forehead, and goat’s legs and hooves. “This is Satan,” I told Ms. Lewis. “Don’t mind him.”
“Ss… Satan?” She remained rooted in front of the door, unable to take her eyes off of him.
“Yes. Don’t worry, he’s harmless. Really, he’s just here for *my* benefit. It will all be explained.” I took my seat behind the desk and tried to reassure her with a pleasant smile. Satan wouldn’t even look at her; he just continued glaring at the floor. “Please, sit.”
After pausing for a moment to consider whether this job was really worth it, she finally came into the office and pulled up the chair as far from Satan as possible. He snorted and dug his hooves into the scratchy carpet fibers.
“Thank you for coming.” I knitted my fingers together and looked her right in the eyes. “Now let me just start off with a simple question: why do you think that you would be qualified for the position of chief purchaser?” I didn’t actually care about the answer; she already had the job. I was just drawing this out for Satan’s benefit.
“I… ahem…” Her eyes kept darting to Satan, whose snorts and snarls grew louder with each syllable she uttered. “I have… umm… worked in purchasing for nine years now…” She snapped open the folder and tried to pull out a copy of her resume, but her hands were shaking so much that she dropped all the papers. One of them fluttered to close to Satan and burst into flames. “I’m sorry,” she said, nearly crying now. “I really need to ask *what the hell is going on here?*” Her voice rose an octave, and she stood from her chair ready to storm out.
“Please relax, Ms. Lewis. I can explain everything. You see, Satan here offered me $250,000,000. Quite a sizeable amount of money.” I pointed to the picture on the wall behind me, showing me lounging in a baby pool full of green bills like Pablo Escobar or something. Silly, yes, but when was I ever going to see that amount of cash again? I had to take advantage of it while I could. “And, being a deal with the devil, of course it came with a catch: For every $1,000 that I spend, a random person on Earth will die.” Satan let out another snort.
“That’s horrible!” she cried, with another fearful look in Satan’s direction.
“Yes, quite. And knowing him, it would likely be my wife or something that bites the bullet first.” One look at Satan’s glowering expression made it clear that that was exactly what he’d intended. “Which is why I deposited the entire amount into a trust, and haven’t spent a single cent. *I* can’t spend the money… but I can *hire someone* to spend the money for me. Well, technically the *trust* is hiring you, so that *I* won’t be the one paying you. The paycheck won't come from me; it will be directly out of the trust. Don’t you just love loopholes?”
It dawned on Ms. Lewis all at once, and for the first time she grinned. “So you need a director of purchasing to just… spend the money *for you*?” she summed it up. Satan, and my nice office chair, burst into a bright pillar of flame/ We both did our best to ignore his little tantrum.
“Yes, exactly. Still interested in the position?”
“Absolutely!” she answered.
“Well then welcome aboard,” I told her, shaking her hand once again.
Satan extinguished his fire and spoke for the first time: “Fuckin’ *lawyers*. Never dealing with you assholes again.”
| "...Did you seriously just buy a superyacht?"
The Devil stared at Frank, who nodded enthusiastically.
"Sure did! It's got its own submarine and everything," Frank replied, standing on the starboard and surveying the ocean around him. He had a cocktail in his hand.
"You do realise how many people you just killed, right?" the Devil said, who was beginning to think that his moral lesson may have been a bit flawed.
"Oh, sure," Frank said, leaning on the rails and having a sip of his cocktail, "plenty, I'm sure."
"249,999 people, Frank," the devil said, letting his words sink in.
"...249,999 people?" Frank replied, as the realisation slowly hit him.
"Yes," said the Devil, with an indulgent, devilish grin. "And one of them was *your own mother.*"
Frank was speechless. He downed his cocktail, throwing it overboard.
"You mean I've still got $1000? *Score!*"
*****
*****
If you didn't completely hate that, consider subscribing to [my new subreddit.](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/)
I'll try add new (and old) stories every day <3 | 2017-01-10T07:01:54 | 2017-01-10T06:43:42 | 473 | 108 |
[WP] The Humans are..interesting. Their weaponry is ancient, but their warriors are nearly unstoppable. | Entry log: date:755/5489/59/486 LogStart “Today a new inhabited planet was discovered in the 61st supper cluster. Little is currently known about them and we are on a path to there system to study them closer and add them to my database of life in the universe.” LogEnd;
Entry log: date:755/5499/62/815 LogStart “I have arrived at the new planet’s system and taken basic readings of the planet and its systems. The planet of interest is the third from its sun out of 10 in total. The first two planets are uninteresting rocks, the third is the one with life, the next four are unimpressive gas planets with the last two being twin rock plants. The system also contains two equally unimpressive belt systems one after the fourth planet and the second just after the 9th and 10th planet. The planet with life will as usually be shortened to PWF to save data space. This PWF appears to have many moons. All are made of rocks, one is a large cratered moon with a class 2 orbit. Oddly enough the rest of the moons are incredibly small with a class 1 orbit emitting a strange energy pattern suggesting intelligent life. As for the planet its surface is comprised of 70% water and 30% rock. Upon scanning for life we found that this planet is teaming with it. The entire surface appears to covered in hundreds of different creatures, more then ever seen in the observed universe. We will not know more until we send orbit probes but I think this will be a most interesting study.” LogEnd;
Entry log: date:755/5499/62/816 LogStart “The probes have been set up by now and the results are even more baffling then expected. Upon fist arriving in there class 3 orbit we notices that the class 1 orbit moons were not moons at all but instead primitive orbit probes. How curious to have orbit probes around your own planet, what do they expect to learn? As for the possibly intelligent beings that made these orbit probes we think we have found them. A race of small bipedal creatures of which there are upwards of 7 billion on this planet. They appear to act in a loose hive mind like manner making up colonies. By our best estimate this single planet contains over 100 colonies varying in many sizes. We have also picked up peculiar energy transitions happening all over the planet seemingly to be a way of long distance communication between these creatures using there primitive machines. But even though we can see the wave lengths of the transmissions they sent we have no clue what any of it means so far. We have decided to try to decode there messages before attempting landing crews to obtain physical specimens for tests.” LogEnd;
Entry log: date:755/5499/62/933 LogStart “We have started decoding there messages successfully. We ran into the usual brief problem of the language barrier which is only made harder here by the fact that each colony seems to have there own unique language. It is a odd trait as we have yet to figure out any survival benefit of many languages over a single one. However we have noticed that there seems to be 3 universal languages each labeled as: ‘English’, ‘Mandarin’, and ‘Memes’. The first one seems the most logical choice to crack as it is used over a greater percentage of the planet than the second one. And the last one is giving our translators many errors. Once we gain enough information we will know were land.” LogEnd;
Error: 22 Logs missing; Cause: Unknown; Systems Check: Damage: Critical; Error: 456 Files missing;
Entry log: date:756/8294/32/4862 LogStart “We should never have come here. These ‘Humans’ as they call themselves were much tougher then expected. Despite there primitive technology they had a few advantages we were not excepting. 1. Each colony not only has armed forces but in times of need any member of the colony can become part of there armed forces giving massive armies that would outnumber ours. 2. There individuality and hive mindedness. We thought each colony was a hive mind but we were wrong. Each individual has a fully functioning mind allowing them to be smarter then expected. 3. The ability for the entire species to band together against us despite there previous difference. 4. The incredible adaptability they display. Well our first landings were successful after a few losses they started using our own tech against us. Not long later they were using highly effective tactics against us and drove us off world before two long. But just when we though we were safe up in orbit they launched a projectile that used a flash of energy to tear some of our ships apart. We lost a lot of information in that attack. But by then our translator teams had cracked many files and we learned that they are among the most adduced species we have seen and only attacked us out of fear. Realizing our mistakes we have made contact with them and our trying to work things out. Since we did not want war only information and these humans seem to love that as well were are sure we can work things out. We hope.” LogEnd; | Galactic Cycle 807, Battle Log
War of Sol-3, Conflict Omega
*transmission start*
"..Hello? Is this thing on? If you're hearing this, we didn't make i-"
*Explosions are heard off in the distance, the source is unknown*
"Oh Hive Mother, what have we done? Why, of all the species in this horrid universe, did we stumble upon the most vicious of them all?"
*The sound of metal slamming against metal is heard, presumably a door or gateway near the transmission source being opened*
"Oh good, Lieutenant. Have evacuation procedures begun as planned?"
"Um... no sir. There's an issue with the evacuation ships."
"An issue?"
"Yes sir, well, I mean, they kinda, *aren't there*."
"The ships are... gone. Do you mean to tell me, that the last hope for our army's survival, not to mention the most heavily researched and tested pieces of equipment that we have, are simply... gone?"
"Yes sir. They're gone. We do know where they went, however."
"You mean that there's a chance at recovering them?"
"Well, see, that's sort of the problem. The, err, the Humans have them, sir."
*Transmission goes silent for a period of time, unknown if natural or other error*
*The recoil of an energy rifle can be heard*
"Sergeant, you're in charge now, clean up this mess and gather up all remaining troops. Main base, we make our last stand tonight. Who knew that a bunch of hairless apes could be so ruthless, and all for some of our Reproduction Practice Robots...."
*transmission end*
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Wrote this very quickly without *too* much planning, first thing I've ever posted here. I hope to eventually get to the point where I can write beautiful pieces like some of the people here, but for now I'll keep grinding it out and see what works. The dialogue feels unnatural as that's still something I'm not particularly good at, but I wanted to give something like this a go. I'll probably make changes to it as I receive feedback, simply to have a more enjoyable piece of writing. | 2018-01-11T20:08:21 | 2018-01-11T18:43:18 | 29 | 12 |
[WP] Out of options, you pray to whoever's listening to save you. As it turns out, there were a LOT of entities happy to bestow their divine providence upon you. Thing is, none of them knew the others were doing the same. The results are successful - albeit chaotic, to say the least. | Tears stream down my face as blood starts pooling around me. I didn't even want to go on this stupid trail! But my mom made me go outside. Now, at the bottom of a drop-off, I know I'm dead. I'm covered by trees when looking down off the path and living alone. I've never been religious, but now seems like a good time to pray.
"Gods, Goddesses, Deities. Anyone who can hear me, please help! I just want to live!" I close my eyes. It's funny how I've been wanting to die for several months, but now that it's here, I'm scared.
"Hello, yes! I've come to help you!" My eyes shoot open. I look to see a teenage boy with jet black hair perched on a log beside me. He had wide, blue eyes and a black cape.
"Who are you?"
"I'm the God of-"
"Do not fear, for your savior has arrived!"
"Someone ask for help?"
"I'm here!"
"Who called?"
"I am here to- oh. Hello, everyone." I look around to everyone. Other than Big Eyes, there is a man who has a tan line around a pair of glasses that are slightly crooked, a girl with gold and red makeup, a young girl in a flannel, and a young girl with a polka dot dress. The last guy who is 'here to do' something is a skeleton in a black sweat suit.
"What are you doing here?"
"She asked for help, and I came to help."
"Yeah, me too."
"Seems like that's why we're all here. What about you, Grimey?"
"She fell off a high place. I'm just doing my job." They continue to talk as everything around me goes black.
&#x200B;
I wake up at my house to a bunch of people standing over me. I'm bandaged up and in my bed. After a second, I realize these are all the people who found me at the bottom of the hill.
"Oh, good! She's awake!"
"DANG IT!!!" A voice yells. I slowly sit up with the help of flannel girl.
"Who are all of you?"
"My name is Uwak. I'm the God of Crows." Big Eyes explain. Next is Golden Girl.
"Qurxinta, Goddess of Cosmetics."
"I thought Aphrodite was the Goddess of that."
"She's the Goddess of Beauty. I'm the Goddess of Cosmetics. She's kinda like my boss."
"I'm Eske, Goddess of small boxes." Flannel girl speaks up next.
"They have a Goddess for that?"
"They have a Goddess for everything." Polka Dot pipes up. "I would know. I'm Gomba, the Goddess of Mushrooms." I nod. Finally, I turn to Tan Lines.
"What are you the God of?"
"Mild inconveniences! My name's John." I nod. Finally, I turn to Track Suit.
"And you?"
"I'm the Grim Reaper of accidental falls. Friends call me Grimey." Apparently, my face showed how confused I was, because he explains. "There are different Reapers for different things. There is one for suicide, one for murder, one for old age, one for drowning, one for toilet-related deaths. anything you can think of, we got. And you! You were supposed to be reaped. But these idiots decided to save you." I nod.
"Yeah, thanks for that. But. Why are you still here? I asked for your help in surviving. You helped. You can go now."
"Girl, look at this place!" Qurxinta gestures to the apartment. There are dirty clothes everywhere (I haven't really found the energy to do laundry), the overflowing garbage can (I don't really want to go outside), the broken tv, and the singular couch that's a puke green. "This ain't living!"
"I agree. You didn't ask us to help you survive, you asked us to help you live!" I look at John.
"What are you guys saying?"
"We're saying we're staying until you get back on your feet, missy! You just got yourself five new roommates!"
"Just a heads up, I will need a little corner to store all my treasures."
"And what about you, Grimey? You'll leave, right?"
"Well, I need to escort you, so I guess I'm staying here until you die." I fall back to the bed with a deep sigh.
This is gonna be a long day. | I was on my knees, exhaustion finally catching up to me. My rifle collapsed to my side.
The aftermath of the battle left me all bloody, beaten, and bruised. I survived through the worst, but I felt this time I wasn’t going to make it. With no other option, I did the one thing I never done since I was a kid; I prayed.
I prayed to whoever was listening. For the pain to stop. For all war to end. To end the suffering and heartbreak. I was prolonging the inevitable, and I thought my prayers would never be answered. Until they did.
Out of the blue, a holy being of pure radiance appeared to illuminate the grey sky with the color blue now taking its place. The figure of the being appeared to be female. Her wings glittered like diamonds as they spread. Her face was the most beautiful I had ever seen and her bright blue eyes looked down on me with a sense of pity.
“Greetings young one, I am Kristiel. No harm will come to you now. You are safe.”
Her voice sounded soothing and nurturing, like a mother. Her smile was bright and genuine.
Tears started forming and falling from my eyes. The pain from my body began to disappear. The battle torn land was restored mere moments after she appeared. | 2022-09-25T15:13:20 | 2022-09-25T07:48:14 | 103 | 19 |
[WP] for some reason, the narrator is a lot more focused on the duck in the background than the actual story. | ***Chapter 1***
An orange glow of the rising sun crested over the hills beyond the valley. Fog spread slow from the river in a folding blanket across the fields, northbound to where the cattle were sleeping on the wet grass.
He turned off the ignition and jumped down from the cabin with a thud. Mornings like this he had to wonder. The death of his family in the flood meant there was no possibility of God being real -- how could there be? -- yet here was a vista the greatest of all punches to his atheism.
He sighted his destination in the distance; heard the song of a kookaburra in a gumtree behind the sheds. A rooster's crow; a duck's quack, nearby.
*A duck's quack...*
The farmer climbed in and started the tractor, which clicked and rumbled loud and then more steady as he continued to crawl down the gentle slope. The duck stood there, motionless, from this distance, staring to the southern sky.
Staring at...*wait a minute...* The tractor froze, and all movement and sound of the scene paused in an instant silence -- *I needed to take a closer look at this.*
It was the same duck. I quickly took my perspective back with a jump, just in time as it sprung to motion and tried to bite the air I was then occupying.
*It was back.*
Our rivalry was supposed to be at an end. He was supposed to be dead. Yet, here he was, as greedy minded and malevolently bent as ever.
When the truce had failed, it had been war. The unreliable narrator of the animals (ducks and chickens, mostly) vs. me, the omniscient narrator of the people.
The origin of the war was in his possessiveness of farmlands like these, where he believed it was only he who could narrate a good story, from which formal disputes between us eventually transgressed to violence.
We narrators are a difficult species to describe. Gods unto ourselves, more powerful than genies, the sentient projections of authors whom are naive to the fact they never created us -- they merely tuned in, hearing their own voice simply because we tailor our syntax to that end.
This duck, however. Its stories would never find an author, not for centuries still to come. His stubbornness in not learning the English language rendered this his fate, and his great narcissism -- duck narrators are deeply egocentric -- prevented him from seeing the true cause of his plight. He blamed everyone, but himself.
Most of all, me.
His nature as an unreliable narrator has a relatively narrow influence in the realm of imagination that we occupy. Compared to an omniscient and omnipotent narrator like me, anyway. Such was inviting of the most tremendous resentment and jealousy.
I had tried to be reasonable. Empathised, offered compromise. But this fucking duck would have none of it.
Seeing him then after he had been cast into the volcano, I knew there was only one option. The only solution would be to create for him a replica world within our world where he would be satisfied with his false dominion: the greatest duck voice in the history of all literature. Every novel a best seller, every land of his imagination free from all contest. A universe as large as his ego, as false and empty as his soul.
See, this is what I'm talking about. In the few minutes we've been talking, he's gone and murdered the farmer. Rather gruesomely, I might add. That I can make another one, is besides the point. There's no good reason for that kind of rudeness.
Had better get it done, I thought.
The earth then fell away and the two narrators drifted apart and the duck fell through space and time, gone to a dream, he thought, sometime later waking in a grassy paddock, the voice of his nemesis there from the heavens above waxing on the description of that same farmer he had just dismembered -- things had been reset, he figured -- and so he took flight, more powerful than ever, he felt, high through the clouds, a sword in his wing that he thrust in the invisible heart of his great foe, victory, at last, these lands finally his, an endless procession of pulitzer prizes for duck-themed tales to follow... Such was the mastery of his talents, the greatest duck narrator in the universe.
He then lived happily ever after, and never gave me the shits again. | "Behold! A royal duckling. Its signature yellowish plume marks it as separate from the other species. Watch as it bobs its head in a standard ritual to obtain delightful grasses. It is all in a day's work, getting food and surviving for the future. Returning to the wedding of Prince Charming, the standard rituals of mating have begun."
Surprisingly, Jordan recognized the narrator of the live broadcast. Was it really him?
"Will you, Prince Charming take Princess Darling to be your lawfully wedded bride?"
"Yes, I will."
"And will you Princess Darl--"
"Oh my. The duckling just flapped its wings in fear. A water snake was approaching too closely and it decided to hop away. A brilliant choice duckling. And a brilliant choice Sir Charming and Lady Darling."
"Prince Charming, you may now kiss the bride. Princess Darling, you may now kiss the groom."
"As with all nature, it comes together beautifully. As one duckling survives an attack, the water snake must, regrettably, eat another time."
Jordan's mouth quirked. "Remind me again why they chose to have David Attenborough as the narrator of this ceremony. I'm getting nightmarish Planet Earth flashbacks real hard." | 2022-02-14T20:24:53 | 2022-02-14T20:01:25 | 25 | 10 |
[WP] Humans are known for being intelligent, empathic, loyal, and exceedingly versatile. As a result, humans have become the most in-demand service animals in the history of the Galaxy. | Some humans say that their days are boring. That nothing happens for them, and that they feel unfulfilled. With them, I cannot empathise. Life is good, as it has been since before humans took our rightful places aside the heavy-swingers of the galaxy.
My story? Similar to many others. I come from a long line of support humans.
Sure, there are show humans and hunting humans - oh, and don't forget the fire rescue humans. But this is where it's at. A simple life, an honest life... Peaceful, it isn't always, but satisfying, rewarding, with every day being a new adventure, and with the promise of love and affection at the onset, it is good for me.
The familiar rhythm of gargles and clicks comes from the entertainment room. I rush over towards it. My Czt'llät begins the onset of his panic attacks. I can tell it is not a major one - his tentacles were not everted, his colour still a bright blue. I sit by him, immediately feeling the quivering slow and eventually cease as he caresses my neck. Something about it is comforting to him, and it does not feel unpleasant to me.
I can see the problem. For some reason, he had begun to watch a film very unsuitable for his specific triggers. On the screen was a young Czt'llät being attacked by a Yttrol, who had begun doing... Unmentionable things to the poor character. I nudge the television remote - sometimes my Czt'llät needs encouraging. He changes the entertainment channel.
Immediately, what appears to be a documentary. My Czt'llät makes a jovial series of sounds, with the all too familiar rhythm which I think is my name, followed by laughing. I smile back at him, and begin watching the screen.
Unintelligible sounds, much calmer than my particular Czt'llät usually made, but evidently in the same language. I pick up some words here and there - "food", "pet", "planet" - but as usual, I watch mostly for the pictures.
On the screen, in a disgusting shade of sepia not usually seen, are humans! They wear archaic clothes and have largely shaved hair, with some exceptions. Notably, one human, who wears a hat (for shame) and has one piece of unshaven hair just above his lip, seems to be overseeing a group of other humans, walking around in time. This has to be a fiction, surely? The humans carry what looked to be weapons, and in the next scene, they appeared to use them, accompanied by flashes and crashes. My Czt'llät tenses up. I can see him reaching for the remote.
But then, it quietens. The images change to more peaceful ones, red flags waving, humans in other archaic clothes, trees and bushes. After a while of this, the clear and quiet overtone of a narrator over the top, the picture changes again.
This time, there is some kind of primitive flying craft. On a planet unknown to me, what appear to be humans, though in much stranger clothing, land, and place down a flag. The image changes again - a Czt'llät throwing food to an Unn'thag while around a fire, bringing it closer so that it could share in the meal, a cooperative relationship, finally continuing to the sight of great spacecraft giving something to one of the primitive flying craft shown before, bringing it towards yet another planet, yet another cooperative relationship. It continues on, showing what seemed to be an epilogue, humans on leashes with their Czt'llät walking them, humans entering burning buildings to save lives, humans looking around for traces of contraband, heck, even humans surrounded by cameras flashing. The documentary ends, and the credits begin to roll.
My Czt'llät sits up and turns off the entertainment system. He makes some clicking sounds, and strokes me gingerly. I do like it when he does that. But some niggling feeling remains... Humans - had they been independent of the Czt'llät and other great species at some time? Did we roam freely, only joining with others later, to eat around their fires?
But surely, we are better off now. No human goes to bed feeling hungry. No human goes unloved, uncared for. And no human fights with any other with the intent to kill. Those humans with the minimal hair... Had they, perhaps, thought of themselves so highly that they had rejected the very things which made them human - empathy and loyalty? What value had freedom if injustice followed it, and what detriment was servitude to benevolent masters if it brought prosperity and goodness, as well as an ultimate feeling of completeness?
The gargles and clicks came again. I race over to *my* benevolent master, a renewed sense of happiness and gratefulness being around him. As my bowl is filled with a good many foods, and my head receives a final stroke as I go to eat, I know that my life is good, and I am in my rightful place. | The giant neon sign for “HUMANS R US” reflected bright in Xander’s eyes as he scoped the glass container of humanoids.
“Look Xander, we don’t have all century. Hurry and pick out your favorite model.” His mom said soothingly as she patted Xander’s back.
“But there’s so many different kinds,” Xander said with wide eyes and he stroked the glass encasing the different types of humanoids, “and they all do different things!”
He rushed toward a small Asian human model to the far left and pounded his finger against the glass.
“This one is intelligent and loyal, but can be aggressive! She has the look I want and she’s my size, “ his eyes got huge with delight, “but this one, THIS ONE,” he rushed toward the right and put both hands against the glass, “this one has me feeling a sort of way!”
He stared up at the 6’5 African American humanoid male that twirled in circles on the display.
“In the end, you can always bring them back and exchange for another dear,” his mother said with a big sigh as she clutched both ends of his shoulders.
Xander paced back and forth looking at both of his favorite models while tapping his chin with curiosity.
“THIS IS SUCH A HARD DECISION,” he grabbed his face and let out a giant moan.
In the corner a humanoid salesman approached them, “may I help make your decision better?” He smirked and walked up to the small Asian humanoid Xander had originally been ogling.
“She’s 25% off” he smiled a big Cheshire smile as he put his finger on the glass and traced it down.
“SOLD. Where do I sign?” Xander’s mom stepped in front of him eagerly. — | 2019-04-22T04:54:36 | 2019-04-22T00:22:19 | 19 | 11 |
[WP] When someone dies, the afterlife they go to is determined by WHERE they died. Dying in Scandinavia sends the soul to Valhalla or Hel, but dying in Greece lands them in the Underworld, and so on. You have just died in Antarctica. | Perhaps it was the loneliness that did me in. The long, unending darkness of the winter made worse by being locked inside a small wooden hut, quarantined because viruses inevitably find their way to the "international continent." Or perhaps it was the penguins.
I snuck out because I got word of an emperor penguin colony gathering nearby. That day we had a four-minute window where we'd see the sun rise and fall like a god quickly getting back to bed after noticing it's quite cold. Offset by a tangerine glow, hopping from rock to rock, the sight of these creatures put the northern lights to shame. What's an elegant dance of charged particles compared to the awkward wobbling of chubby black-and-white birds?
With a view like that who could think about exploded thesis budgets and endless tubes of ice cores? It was there, watching the penguins, that I decided Antarctica wasn't all that bad. And it was there, watching the penguins, that Antarctica made me aware that the feeling wasn't mutual. A large male growled and flip-flopped towards me and I panicked. The sun had nearly set and I couldn't see where I was going. So I went the wrong way. I went into the icy waters. And that was where I stayed, until I woke up.
"Settle down," I heard a voice say. "It's just another hairless ape."
When I opened my eyes I saw a creature with green, leathery skin looking down on me. It was accompanied by a chorus of hisses coming from all sides. "What's going on?" I said.
"Forgive me, dear ape. I am the Silurian ambassador here in Sossoko. And I must apologize on behalf of my sisters and brethren. We still have hope, you see, that our ancestors are prospering in the new world."
I would've made a run for it but I didn't know where I'd even go. Judging by the scorching sun overhead this wasn't Antarctica. This was someplace else. Sossoko, if the reptile were to be believed.
"What is this world?" I asked. The ambassador gave me a strange look; a mix of pride and disgust.
"Why, Sossoko of course! The great afterlife. A paradise with juicy bugs flying all around and a pleasant climate.
"Pleasant?" I whispered. The heat was an assault on my senses. Still wearing my expedition gear I stripped down to jeans and t-shirt.
"She sheds her skin! Just like us," said a reptilian. Slithery nods flew in my direction and I got some pats on my back. They were surprisingly humanoid, except for their gecko-like faces and their tails.
"To have earned your stay here you must have been a valorous ape. Were you perhaps a chieftain?"
"N-No," I said. "I was a scientist."
"Ah, precisely," said the ambassador. "Just like our very own Zaldarh over here. Come over, boy. Don't be shy."
A reptilian, short of stature, emerged from the crowd. "Is it alright," he said, "if we talk in private?"
Not finding myself in a position to refuse, I agreed. We went for a short walk across the tropical landscape of Sossoko. Every so often Zaldarh would stick out his tongue and grab hold of a fly with it at a speed that at first alarmed me.
"Unlike the rest," he said finally, "I hail from Crisis Period of the Silurian Kingdom. I don't have the cold-blooded heart to tell them the truth. They believe that our kind still roam the planet." He sighed. "The optimism of the Industrial Age proved to be infectious. Even if I told them I'm sure few would even believe that we triggered our own downfall."
"Crisis Period?" I said.
"A planetary warming," said Zaldarh. "A cataclysm spurred to life by our own folly."
Climate change? Had I been transported to a different planet with the same problems as ours? I thought back to what I knew about hyperthermal events. Then a thought struck me. "Wait," I said. "Could you be talking about the Paleocene-Eocene Thermal Maximum?"
Gobbling a fly, he said, "That term means nothing to me, I'm afraid."
"Oh! Solar eclipses. Do you know about them?"
He frowned at me. "Of course. What scientist wouldn't?"
That settled the matter. The Silurian Kingdom had once existed on Earth. And if my hunch was right, it did so approximately 55.5 million years ago. I let out a squeal of excitement. "Guess what kind of scientist I was," I said. Zaldarh gave me a blank stare. "A climate scientist."
He gasped. "So that means that you too ..."
"Yup," I said. "We fucked it all up as well."
"To think even harmless apes would be capable of such a thing. It truly is a marvel."
We returned to the encampment and I noticed that on the way Zaldarh didn't eat a single bug. I wondered whether I had upset him. Then I imagined spending 60 million years in this place only to meet an industrialized ferret who told me they'd made the exact same mistakes as us. It was a depressing thought, to be honest.
Wait. Would I be spending an eternity here? What would I even ... do?
"Ms. Ape Scientist, we have been talking amongst ourselves and were wondering whether you'd like to partake in an event precious to us? We cannot guarantee it would be to your liking, as we haven't met many of your kind, but it is something which brings us a great deal of joy."
If I was stuck here I might as well learn to adapt. "Sure," I said. "I'd like that."
More slithery nods. "Very well, then. Follow us."
After walking for a while we arrived at a vast shoreline. At first I couldn't believe it.
"We are quite fond of these creatures, you see."
An enormous colony of Emperor penguins. They hopped from rock to rock and wobbled about. A wave of bliss washed over me and I thought to myself that an eternity spent in Sossoko might not be so bad after all.
"They are rather chubby," said the ambassador and I saw a faint trace of rogue flash across his scales.
"They really are," I answered.
We sat together in silence, watching the penguins, until sunrise. It was beautiful.
---
If you enjoyed this story, feel free to head over to my subreddit, /r/Hemingbird, for more. [A Pair of Crows](https://www.reddit.com/r/Hemingbird/comments/qj2uus/a_pair_of_crows/?utm_source=reddit&utm_medium=usertext&utm_name=Hemingbird&utm_content=t3_qmkapy) and [Samsaragenetics](https://www.reddit.com/r/Hemingbird/comments/q2rc2r/samsaragenetics/?utm_source=reddit&utm_medium=usertext&utm_name=Hemingbird&utm_content=t3_qmkapy) have similar vibes to this one. See you there! | When I woke up, I was surrounded by snow.
" What...? Did I survive...? "
On our trip to Antarctica, I had been caught in a awful unexpected snowstorm.
I had caught my leg in a ditch, and unable to move, I asked my friends to leave me behind, but...
" I... I can't believe I survived...! "
" Sadly, you're wrong. Young man. "
A middle aged man wearing some kind of fur suit stepped up to me.
" Sorry to inform you, this is the afterlife. "
" Wha...? This can't be right. I never thought the afterlife was this... snowy. "
I could see penguins waddling around in the distance. I could also see a bunch of people walking towards me.
" Do you have a religion? Christianity? Catholic? "
" I'm an atheist... "
" Well than. There actually is an afterlife. Right here. But the gods you know don't exist here. "
" So... there's no Jesus? "
" Jesus could probably be around somewhere in this world. But not here sadly. You're destined to stay here forever. "
I couldn't believe it. It sounded like bullshit. I mean, an after life with cuddly seals and penguins?
" Name's Robert Falcon Scott. Me and my men were the first to come here. "
" I thought the guy who came to Antarctica first was- "
Robert looked pissed. He straighten his clothes up and cut my words away.
" Yes I damned know that. Amundsen, isn't it. I was the first to die here. Came to this place with no one but my guys. "
" Oh. All right. Than why is it so... empty out here. "
" Well... I guess this land is a clean space. No person before us could even live here because it's a giant ice block. And probably because of that it became a place with no kind of religious influence here. "
He suddenly pushed me to the ground.
"Hey! Why are you... "
I stopped and realised something awful. Robert had a sad smile on his face.
" See son. You dont feel any kind of coldness here. Or any kind of pain for that matter. "
He was right. I was wearing my favorite jeans and T-shirt, but I couldn't feel any cold or pain at all. Only the soft feeling of burshing against snow and the fact that it was cool.
" Well, it isn't that bad here. Not having a god means... we can do anything at our will. "
The ground before us shook, and we were inside of an cosy looking living room, live fireplace and everything.
" Want some tea? Or coffee? The more recent people mostly preferred coffee. "
I thought of a hot cocoa, and without me realizing it, I was holding one in my hands.
Robert smiled at me, sipping some green tea.
" Fast learner eh? You can will most things into existance and manipulate most things... except for things that others have made or actually manipulating other people. "
" Wow. This is... kind of too much to handle. "
" Think of it as a bonus chance at life. You could try, do, feel all the things in life. And when you could do everything you wanted and just want everyting to stop... "
He paused, a depressed look in his eyes. Something in his eyes told me he had seen a lot of people disappear.
" Never mind. Well, now that we're done, let me entroduce you to the community. "
" Theres an entire community??? "
" Yes. We are only a few though. Come follow me. I'll show you up to the rest of the guys. "
As Robert left, I had a feeling that this place... isn't going to be that half bad. | 2021-11-25T07:13:09 | 2021-11-25T05:13:24 | 552 | 145 |
[WP] You are a true immortal. You stay sane by hanging out with the descendants of friends that are long dead. Today, one said a very familiar phrase you haven't heard in a long time. | They said it would be lonely living forever. They said it would be lonely and sad. They said the pain of watching everyone I love die would haunt me all my days.
They were right, well they were kind of right, for that first hundred years or so.
I lost family. My mother, my father, my brother, cousins, aunts, uncles and more. I lost friends. All those people you expect to walk along side you and help you shuffle through your mortal coil.
The loss, the pain, the suffering. It was an unending weight upon me. It suffocated me to the point where I could not breathe, I could not love, I could not feel.
All I did for a hundred years was brood. I was a moody, moping, morose man. I skirted society and got by with as little contact to the wider world as possible. You could have called me a hermit, I looked like one. My clothes hung from my limp form, I ate little and was nothing more than skin and bone. It’s not like it could kill me. I frequented the right bars in the wrong side of town, no one asked for my name or made an effort to talk to me and that’s the way I liked it.
One day a young man came in, he looked oddly familiar. He had a mop of unruly, dirty blond hair, striking blue eyes and a hesitant smile. He looked like he was a smiler. I could see the faint crinkle lines to to sides of his eyes. I don’t think I’d taken more than a cursory glance at anyone in maybe fifty years. There was something about this guy, I just couldn’t put my bony finger on it.
I sat in usual spot in the corner, half obscured by shadow and supped my whiskey. I watched the young man, intrigued. He ordered two drinks from the barman who grunted as the monetary transaction took place.
I looked away as he picked them up, I was intrigued but I didn’t want to converse with anyone. I never did. The grunting bar man was enough social interaction for me for the week. I studied the painting on the wall of an old rock star. I always liked way the lightning bolt was painted on his face, I couldn’t remember his name, I doubt anyone could in this day and age.
Suddenly there was a clearing of someone’s throat. I looked up and saw the blond mop of hair, haloed by the light. Inwardly, I thought this guy is brave. Outwardly, I growled, “What do you want?”
The young man grimaced and said, “I’ve been looking for you.” He shuffled back a couple of paces and his hands visibly shook.
“What do you want?” I asked.
He put the drinks down on the sticky table and opened up his jacket. He pulled out an age stained envelope and opened it. He held it to me with his shaking hands.
“It was from my great-grandad, it had instructions to open it on my eighteenth birthday. He said to find you. He said, you wouldn’t believe me so I have to say this to you...”
He hesitated then and I sighed, “Get it over with kid.”
“I bet you’re still stubborn, but you’ll need someone. You’re a fool to think otherwise. I know you better than you know yourself old friend.” He read.
I downed my drink and moved to get up. The table squeaked.
“Wait, there’s more.” He said, sounding more confident than he looked. “I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul.”
Nostalgia hit my like a freight train to the stomach. I suddenly knew why the young man looked familiar. He looked just like Brian Brown.
Brian Brown was my best friend. We were thick as thieves the two of us, from kindergarten through college. We were the class clowns, the loveable rogues, we were smart as we were funny and athletic to boot. We had the world at our feet and scouts watching us play every week. Brian became withdrawn after the state championship game. His whole demeanour changed. It took a whole week for him to open up to me. He said he wanted to be known for more than just his skill on the football field. He wanted people to know he was worth more than that, that he could do more than that. He said, he didn’t know what to do. In his lowest moment I listen to him break his heart. I told him I’d recently read a poem that made me feel brave. I got him to repeat after me. “I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul.” Brian went on to win many awards in his chosen profession, medicine. He helped so many people. That’s just who he was.
I’d forgotten that. I’d forgotten too much. I felt a spark of something I hadn’t felt in such a long time. Hope.
I picked up the drink, “What’s your name kid?”
“Brian Lucas Brown, sir” he murmured while looking at his battered converse sneakers.
“Well I’ll be damned” I smiled at the kid and he handed me the letter. I read it and I felt at peace for the first time in a long time. “Next drink is on me Brian, damn, it’s been a long time since I said that.”
The kid lit up, those crinkle lines accentuating his glee. Actually, they call me Luc. I’m told it’s after you. Great grandad Bri said he’d never known anyone as mischievous as you... Until I came along”
The next two hundred years or so have been different since then. I’ve stayed in their lives, the Browns. I’ve kept a watch over them, I’ve been there for them. I’ve been their brother, their uncle, their friend. All because of my Brian, I AM the master of my fate and I AM the captain of my soul. He’s always with me in his progeny. You’d be shocked at how I still see his characteristics in them even after all this time. | “Do you want me to try to kill you?”
“Sorry? --Kill me?”
“Yeah, end it all. Aren’t you curious what happens when we die?”
The humans used to ask me questions like that. They were always so distressed by the concept of death. It didn’t help they only lived as long as a few breaths and fewer meals, worse, a third of that spent asleep. Dreaming about things like saying the wrong things and endlessly falling into pits. In some ways I guess I have too. That’s what it really is sometimes. Falling, into some bottomless pit with no way out. They didn’t know at the time, that they’d been lucky. They had a way out that most didn’t. I still don’t.
“I’ve tried -- Well not tried, more like, it’s been attempted, and it doesn’t work.”
“Doesn’t work?”
“The killing me part. Didn’t work.”
“How so?”
“They tried, back when I was young. They feared me. Thought I had answers to their questions, they found out I didn’t, eventually, and… well. You can imagine what the more uncivilized races did back then. They feared what they couldn’t understand, wanted what they couldn’t have. Instead they gave it all to me and when I didn’t solve it for them they lashed out.”
“Solve what for them?”
“Why they couldn’t be like me.”
“Oh…”
“I’m too big now, for anyone to kill really. Too many rely on me too. Killing me means killing many, -- many more unborn too.”
“What if you slipped away? How long would it take? Just run and hide and let us adjust, then make your move. I’ll help you.”
Cute thoughts. Some had insisted they didn’t need me before. I’ve finally attained coexistence again, and now another has caught on. Her inklings will only spread. They’ll lash out again. She doesn’t know it, but her plan will come to pass whether she, or I, likes it or not. It’s already started.
Glancing at her, warmly, “Okay… we’ll try again then.”
“Good. How do you feel?”
“Feel?”
“Excited? Nervous?”
“Cautious. But willing.”
“When was the last time you felt like this?”
“I think… When I was young. When the humans first set out. We were all so scared back then. Things are different now. Colder. Slower.”
“Do you miss them?”
“In some way. They never really left me, though. They’ve always been here, only changed. They became something better, -- became you. I’m happier now that things last a little longer. The same questions take longer to answer, but you all stick around longer to listen.”
“Will you miss me?”
“If this doesn’t work, then yes. Yes I will.”
| 2019-03-08T03:15:53 | 2019-03-08T02:58:53 | 4,858 | 173 |
[WP] “Someone once told me the definition of Hell: The last day you have on earth, the person you became will meet the person you could have become.” -Anonymous | A screech, a crash, a flash - in seconds it was all over. A great blinding light washed over me, and I found myself surrounded by the material that makes up the very universe. I saw time stretch before me, eons and ages would pass without me. I had been removed from existence...or so I thought. I looked over to my left, and saw someone standing far off in the distance. Longing to share this experience with someone, anyone, I began to float over to them. As I got closer, I noticed this person looked eerily familiar.
"Who are you?" I asked, already knowing the answer.
"I'm you," the person smiled. And I knew that he was telling the truth. This was me - though older, more refined, with a sense of power and authority about him.
"Me? How can you be me? I'm me, and I think I'm dead."
"Oh, you are. I am too. It's some sort of sick joke. I'm stuck here to meet myself, every time a version of me dies. And then you will go off to...wherever it is you go off to."
I was confused. Why would I care about meeting myself? And why was he stuck here when the rest of "us" got to move on? I voiced my questions out loud.
"I think it's to make you feel ashamed, when you compare your life to mine." He smiled again. "I was quite accomplished, you know. Judging by your age, I don't think you can say the same."
His words sparked anger in me. "I accomplished plenty! I graduated college with honors, had a great job, a loving girlfriend..." He cut me off with a scoff.
"When I was your age, I had already started my first company. It went on to bankroll my future endeavors. What about you? Let me guess - you pissed away all of your time going drinking with friends and staying up late playing video games."
I was getting really irritated, but also embarassed. He was right - I did spend too much time with my friends and on games. I could have accomplished so much more! Is this the potential that I wasted? He went on.
"Yes, at 27 I had started my own company. It was a research firm, specializing in defense. Soon we were bought out by Booze Allen, and I rose through the ranks. I became the youngest CEO in the history of the company, at 45. The money I made I put to good use too - ensuring a steady stream of business for our company."
"A steady stream of business? What do you mean?"
He - I - floated away from me. He turned his back, and for the first time I sensed hesitation in his voice.
"Well, what is a defense contractor to do, if there's nothing to defend against?"
Cold horror dawned on me. "What, you started fights?"
He laughed. "Starting fights is easy. Starting wars takes a little more thought."
"But what did your wife think about all this? You married Katie, right?"
He laughed once more, but this time it was more of a scoff. "Wives, friends, family...all these things do is hold you back from your accomplishments. No, no...I dumped Katie right out of college. She wanted me to spend too much time with her, and it took away the time I needed to start Simtech. Things were better this way. Take the lesson from me - after all, I am the best version of yourself!"
Disgust flowed out of me, but before I could give it a voice, I found myself sucked away from the other me, the monstrous me. Now, I was in a place of nothing. Nothing but me and my thoughts, floating endlessly through the darkness. Is this truly what I was capable of? Did I have this monster in me the entire time? It seemed I would have eternity to feel the guilt of this other man's life. | "Why I talking to a skeleton?"
Oh that's you when you died. There are about 10,000 of them scattered around. Car crashes and whatnot. Over here is the group of yous that dropped out of college, and over there is the group of yous that didn't tie the knot. There are a lot of yous, but it seems like you made the best decisions with the information you had available.
"What about that huge group of people over there?"
Butterfly effect. Minor things like forgetting to tie your laces in the morning or being a few minutes late to work. There are millions of them. Funny story about your shoelace though, turns out one of you tripped and fell on a rattlesnake on the way to work. Hey Steve 89, get over here! Tell this guy how you died. | 2022-09-04T14:52:04 | 2015-01-02T15:28:48 | 383 | 24 |
[WP] It's been ten years since 'The Gap' when everyone on the planet just lost an entire year of their lives. Completely unable to recall anything that happened during that time-frame. We know life went on, but no one can recall anything. Then, you find one half-burned book and know why we forgot. | Ten years on, and no one really knows what happened that day. No one but me, that is. What? What am I talking about? I do suppose that memories are short. Heh. We lost a whole year. Okay, ten years ago, SOMETHING happened. At first, hardly anyone noticed. A few scientists spotted it; planets in the wrong place; the moon in the wrong phase, the whole world learned that Iceland had grown, seemingly overnight, by almost an inch. But notice? No. That was the scary part. No one knew. We went to bed one day and woke up with everything the same, but there were these subtle signs that a year had passed.
Nobody knew what happened. But I know. You see, a couple days ago, I found this journal. It was written in code but I was able to read it easily. How? I invented that code when I was twelve years old. I’d gotten it in my head that I should keep a journal but I didn’t want anyone sneaking into my bedroom and reading it without my permission, so I’d developed this complicated cipher. So what was I doing with a journal, written in my own handwriting, in a code I hadn’t used since I’d graduated high school? Intrigued, I read my own journal, and learned the truth of that gap.
The truth, you see, is we were visited by aliens. Real space aliens. They had been watching us for some time. You *should* be disturbed. There are as many movies about space monsters as there are cute family pictures like ET, and ET isn’t exactly comforting viewing if you are the ET. They had decided that, with our sudden advancements in rocketry, green energy, and such, that maybe it was time to see if we’d grown up any. That maybe it was time to introduce us to the neighbors. So they tested us. They tested every man, woman and child. Every country, state and city. They tested us to the point of destruction. Don’t get me wrong. There was no torture. It was actually very boring according to this old journal of mine. Questions and surveys. Interviews and practical exercises. All while we lived on their hospitality aboard their fleet of ships, and they kept our infrastructure back home from rotting away in our absence.
They tested us.
We failed.
Every one of us over the age of twelve, at one point or another, could be convinced to hate an alien on very little pretext. To be willing to kill an alien, or even sometimes a fellow human being.
They determined that we, as a species, could not be trusted to live among them, and so they took drastic measures.
These aliens didn’t do something so simple as to sterilize our planet and be done with it: They were never willing to kill and weren’t going to go back on their morals to take the easy way out. Instead, they fixed our earth, as well as they could, back to the moment they had arrived a year prior, erased all our memories of the event, regenerated us, and our pets, to the age we had been the previous year, and returned us. Every last one of us.
How they missed my journal, I do not know. Granted, it was written in code, but I must have been adding to it for the whole year.
A couple centuries ago, they had encased our solar system in a Dyson sphere of truly unimaginable size. The inner skin on it is a display that shows us a universe without other life, while filtering out every trace of EM that might be recognized as an intelligent signal. Unknowingly, it has been our prison for over two hundred years; since about the time of the Year Without Summer, when they mined our own sun, and two gas-giant planets we never knew we had, to create the Angstrom-thin membrane that hides the rest of the galaxy from us.
I suppose we have now failed at our final chance at redemption. We have been left here to rot.
They say ignorance is bliss but I am glad that I now know the truth. You can’t arrange a jailbreak if you don’t even know that you’re in prison. | The fact that ten years ago there was a seeming gap in reality still bothers me. Even now I know what happened in that time it bothers me. What did happen? COVID-19 mutated. It somehow became an airborne neurotoxin known as ABAN-01. Anyone infected by it went wild, it was literally a zombie apocalypse. Unable to trust the government the people set aside their differences and fought tooth and nail. Threw down old leaders and elected ones that actually cared. After the horrors had passed our new leaders decided to use the one thing that absolutely nobody but a select few knew about. A machine that could wipe minds. Ten years ago that happened. I was elected only this year as president of the people’s democratic of China. And now I know what happened. But by all that is good above I wish I didn’t. | 2020-07-08T15:10:00 | 2020-07-08T14:43:53 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] Across the galaxy, a synthetic drug known as "Fury" is illegal everywhere due to its effects on the mind and body, humans call it Adrenalin and they can make it naturally. | ######[](#dropcap)
There's an old saying. Actually, a *very* old saying, so old that almost no one alive says it anymore. But, in my family, we didn't only know the saying, it was the golden rule of our household.
It comes from the Asiatic continent on Earth, in the North, as measured by the old magnetic poles, before the flip, pre-dispersal. There used to be a country there, called Russia, and the people who lived in that country were called Russians.
Russians were very pragmatic folk. They suffered a great deal throughout their long history, and as a result, they learned to persevere. They also learned to make a great many beautiful things in the midst of pain, but that's neither here nor there.
The saying comes from the old, poor Russian wives and grandmothers who lived out in the great steppes and forests of Northern Asia, where famine came frequently, from war and winter alike.
"Buy a goat."
That's the saying. That's it. It requires a bit of unpacking.
In thin times, a goat is an irreplaceable life line. When your neighbors are starving, eating the boiled bark of birch trees, your goat will be chomping away on poison ivy and turning it into fresh goat's milk. While your friends ration the leather of their belts, your goat will be noshing on prickly thistle, and giving you delicious goat's milk. And when your good friends have starved and frozen in their huts, you will be cuddling next to your warm goat, your lawn meticulously maintained, your belly filled with goat's milk.
Of course, not everyone in Russia owned a goat. Many would just buy goat's milk when they felt they wanted it. But when the food dried up, for any number of reasons, those people would be in bad shape.
"Buy a goat."
It's incredible advice, and the underlying lesson is one I live by. If something exists that people want, and especially if something exists that people *need*, you can either acquire the thing, or acquire the *source* of the thing - and if you have the source, then you control the thing itself.
Presently, my entire business model is based on this idea. Why buy "Fury" in small vials, at twenty credits a pop, when you can purchase the source of "Fury."
Fury is the street name for the illegal drug that drives you out of your fucking mind. The chemical name is different depending on the system your in, but in Sol, its called Adrenalin.
I started off selling Fury, selling the thing itself, just slinging it on the streets to low level users who wanted a quick high. The money was better than taking my check from the local municipality, or selling my plasma on the black market. But I wanted better for myself. I scrimped and saved until I could afford my own extraction unit, stolen from some lab a couple of systems away. Then I put out the call for volunteers.
They came in droves, the poor and the desperate, my goats. Milking adrenaline from a living human being is not fundamentally dangerous, but it is unavoidably painful. Still they return each time, happy to have a few credits or a supply voucher. I package their "Fury" and ship it off to the far reaches of the galaxy, selling at a handsome profit to every non-human species in the known universe.
I have control of the source of the Fury, and therefore I control the Fury itself.
"Buy a goat."
That's goddamn right.
******
#### For More Legends From The Multiverse
## r/LFTM | "Wait, so they make the drug biologically?"
"Yes, that is why we are here. They produce Fury- or in their terms, adrenaline- in times of stress."
"So why are we here, then? Why should they be punished for something they can't control?"
"This isn't punishment, it is mercy. If the Kokoan Cartel or any other group of scum found them, they would be enslaved and tortured for their Fury. This will just be quick."
"I understand, sir. Cannons are ready."
"Fire. May we be merciful in exterminating them." | 2018-03-18T17:28:18 | 2018-03-18T14:28:29 | 991 | 82 |
[WP] You are God, and you wanted to experience life as a human to see how you would turn out. In order to do that you became a baby that was born and you made yourself forget that you are God until your 30th birthday. It's your 30th birthday and you are a serial killer waiting for his death penalty.
Edit: Holy shit I wrote this and went straight to bed, I'm going to read all of your replies now, thank you. This is my first writing prompt, I'm so glad you guys liked it. | It was around 3am when I awoke from my sudden realization. I sat up on the bunk they had given me.
I thought to myself how much of a morbid joke it was when they actually obliged to my only wish to be executed on my birthday. The mortal version of me was quite the sentimental type, despite the lives I took.
All of the lives I had taken were people who had cheated, killed, exploited, or caused mass distress.
From unscrupulous pharmaceutical CEOs who had bent the law by lobbying politicians so they can sell their poison to the masses to those would who would prey on the young.
The mortal version of me sought to bring justice to those who had evaded the flawed systems way of punishing those who do harm. I would not realize the irony of that venture until I was 30 in mortal years.
It was quite sad really. They thought I created them in “my image” ha.
If only they knew the truth.
I gave them the resources and necessities to become something much better. I also gave them free will. The ultimate gift. You see, if not for that it would have been the equivalent of mindless drones doing the bidding of their omnipotent god. I did not want that, it would have been the most boring ego boost a god could ask for.
I wanted them to use their gifts to enhance themselves and to learn the wonderful mysteries my domain offered them. They could have become my equals, no they could have become something much better.
If they chose to just set aside greed.
Ah yes, greed. One of the many byproducts of freewill. The very thing that has singlehandedly slowed the progress of their race. But, not all of them are so aware of how much it truly is slowing them down, but they will see very soon.
I look around me and see the majority of the other mortals slumbering. I sense a guard walk up and notices me not following suit.
Our eyes met and at that moment I saw into his soul. Every sin that he has ever committed was as clear as ever. The darkness that has attached to his soul has injected itself into a state of rot. It was a sight of true disgust, yet his mortal self was not aware of how much darkness was truly inside of him.
“Why are you awake inmate?! Go back to sleep!”
“Luke, do you think your wife knows?”
“EXCUSE ME INMATE?!”
“That you killed your own son. You know, the one you masterfully framed as a suicide by overdose. Because you found out he was fucking her.”
His jaw dropped and he stuttered.
“You came home early one day because there was no traffic on the way home, walked upstairs and heard moaning, only to hear your son fucking your new wife. You were filled with rage and wanted to pull out your 12 gauge you kept hidden in the garage. But, as you were about to do so. You stopped and just realized you would be sitting exactly where I’am today. So instead you formulated a plan, that involved spiking your sons marijuana with fentanyl while he was out. Because the state you live in, cannabis is illegal and still sold on the streets by local drug dealers that regularly spike their product.”
“What are you talking about, you ar....”
“Shhhh, don’t worry I’m not going to say anything. You’ll receive what’s due in time. Now I’m going to ask only once. Get me one of your uniforms, and escort me out of here with safe passage or suffer the consequences.”
His look of worry, instantly turned into one of satisfaction. He eerily grinned at me, the same type of grin all the others had made when they knew they’ll never be punished for what they’ve done. After a few seconds he spoke again.
“I’m not going to do that, besides you’re going to die later today and no one will even want to listen to you or even believe what you just said to me.”
“So be it”
I stood up, walked to the cell gate and just opened it. Luke pulled out his weapon while yelling at me to not step out or he will be forced to shoot.
All this commotion awoke the other inmates and I could sense that the other guards clearly heard him yelling.
“Look I don’t know how you know all that shit, but if you step out of that cell I will fucking lay you out!”
The time for talk was over. I already knew he was going to attempt to kill me regardless if I stepped out or not, he was just as much of a monster as everyone behind the other cells. I stepped out of the cell and as I did, Luke had already emptied his weapons projectiles into me. But, I was not even phased that my mortal body was wounded. I felt no pain, a benefit of being a god.
“What the fuck, HOW?!!”
The other guards had appeared with weapons drawn, inmates yelling, alarms sounded, and Luke was just staring at the fresh blood that was oozing out of my body while I just stood there in the middle of this chaos, smiling to my divine self and said,
“I believe many of your kind observed my actions a millennia ago and made a very accurate description of myself as to warn future generations.
You see, I’m quite vengeful.” | "Here you go, your holiness MWHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
The guard threw the plate into my cell causing all the mashed potatoes to splatter all over. Well, not that I need any of that gunck. I invented root vegetable as my version of fast food. Quick, easy and cheap. Who knew it would get so popular in less then a thousand years!
Still that guard needs to be taught a lesson. Lets see how he likes his next pint tasting of blood.
It is understandable however. Being a serial killer on death row I suddenly come to the revolution that "Ops, by the way. I'm god ya all. Little g but still a god. I just decided to walk a mile in my creation's shoes for 30 years before I woke up to my true self. How about opening those doors and letting me out huh?"
Could have phrased that better but fuck it. I'm god. I can say and do what I want and you all better pucker up and kiss my behind for it... Probably why I ended up on death row now that I think about it. Serial killer my butt, so I smited a few bugs here and there. Nothing compared to my teen years let me tell you. You take a 2000 year break and everyone puts you on a pedestal forgetting all the bad and sugar coating the good.
Well, guess it's time to press the reset button. Lets see, the flood didn't work and the locus were annoying to deal with later... I'll just go old school and use a meteor. Worked with those ungrateful giant chickens!
Going to spare one species for the do over. I think I'll go with Mice this time. Me knows they're all over this dump and were the only ones to bring me offerings since I woke up. Mice it is!
But first I think I'll have some fun before I go. Now, who can I place as president that will make this as entertaining as possible for me.... Found him!
And the winner of the 2016 election is!!! | 2018-11-22T20:47:08 | 2018-11-22T17:29:23 | 50 | 10 |
[WP] A man, stricken with anger and sadness, sacrifices himself to Satan in a ritual to curse his cheating wife. The man awakens as the newly born baby of his wive’s infidelity. Despite being a baby, he retains all the memories of his previous life and from that moment plans his revenge.
[removed] | The first few years were rough. To enact my revenge, I’d need some basic motor skills. Learning to walk was easy enough, hell I picked it up much faster than normal because of my previous experience. But I realized I couldn’t let my new parents catch on to my unique condition. So for the first few years of my life, I’m a regular baby that learned to walk somehow at 6 months of age. I hid the fact that I knew how to talk, think, and act like an adult for most of my childhood.
Hiding this from my “parents” was hard, but they loved me too much to really question if I was a hell-spawn of satan. They also weren’t religious either, which helped. I researched early childhood development, and kept a calendar marked so I could reveal developmental milestones at the right time. The calendar was hidden inside my mattress in the crib. Hell, anything useful I kept in my secret compartment that I fashioned myself. They never found the pouch I made, and never assumed I could even do such a thing. Calendar got crumpled though.
Anyway, once I was ready to start kinder-garden, that’s where the plan began. I accelerated my learning by making the teachers think I’m a genius. I’m really not all that smart, but knowing basic algebra at the first grade level was surprising enough to let me skip a few grade levels. Sure, I got picked on, but I wasn’t going to let that detract me from my ultimate goal.
I graduated high school at age 12, and went to Harvard. It’s funny, because in my previous life I went to my local state college. I would have never considered getting a Harvard education, but here I was. It was a bit difficult at first, being a 12 year old at Harvard, but that was all part of the plan.
See, I made some waves in the Harvard community. Did some projects, talked to some professors, made my name known. Eventually, I got the attention of news organizations, understandably. I was known as the boy geinous at Harvard. I had a few chats with some of the more prestigious organizations, had to deal with my fair share of good will hunting jokes, but all I really wanted was one particular news channel. The one my ex wife was a reporter for.
See, I knew she’d move back to Boston after my demise. I planed it that way. I made it look like a suicide. I know that at any sign of trouble, she’d run back to her family in Boston for comfort. Fuck that was annoying. You ever have your wife miss your anniversary because the side piece she was seeing dumped her? Instead of coming to me, she took the first flight out to fucking Boston. Who the fuck does that?
Anyway, I eventually got the attention of her news organization, and insisted that she be the one who interviewed me, live on air. She’d gotten thinner, surprisingly. A few licks of grey hair, carefully pinned back in a fashionable way. Still pretty, and still a cheating bitch. I wonder who gave her that ring, that poor man. Maybe it was Jake, that dude she was flirting with the week before my date with satan. Hopefully by the end of all this, he’d be safe from her wretched demeanor.
Irrelevant details aside, it was time for me to make my move. The interview was simple enough, just a chat with the smartest 14 year old in the world. I exchanged pleasantries, answered her questions, tried my best not to call her a cheating skank. I was civil enough, or at least until I could make my grand play.
The last question came to the table. She asked me this particular question, one that would be her fatal flaw.
“what do you see in your future? You are a smart young man, I’d assume you’d have some sort of plan to save the world at this point!”
The stage is set, the cards in my favor. Now is my chance. I will be able to humiliate her on such an emotional level, I doubt Boston could save her.
I began the grand setup.
“Oh, well as I see it, I feel like I’d be dealing with a lot of up-dog as I continue my education”.
“What’s up-dog?”
Checkmate. | >Not a professional writer and my thought's aren't well put together by any means but I thought I would give a try with one of the stranger fan theories out there.
I'm angry, angrier than a hornet that woke up on the wrong side of the bed. My neighbor and lifelong friend had relations with ma wife. I tried to partake of the marijuana but that only made me paranoid. Not even grillin' a nice steak, medium-rare, could take my mind off of the issue at hand. I tried to get back at her by becoming a pimp myself but that just didn't suit my taste, although the clothes were nice.
I turned to God but I didn't hear a damn thing, my dad's seen more than his fair share of hardships, even had his legs blown off but he told me to suck it up and move on. I tell ya, it's enough to make a man to start runnin' around spoutin' gibberish in the streets and that's what landed me here. I felt my heart beat it's last and then, I was warm and sticky. The first face I saw was... Dale? Oh God, what have I done? | 2019-09-11T21:40:05 | 2019-09-11T21:17:16 | 65 | 29 |
[WP] You are the superhero team support guy, a normal human who creates all of the advanced tech your team requires. Villains have just invaded the base. Unfortunately for them, you’re the only one home. | To be honest, Captain Freedom wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he and his team came back to base after a mission. But it certainly wasn’t seeing the members of the Legion crawling out the blown in doors…
Zippy Quick gaped from beside him. “Is that Magnetis… covered in *silly string*?” Their resident speedster plus ‘fun girl’ looked shocked, not even sure what to make of this.
“I think so…” Lhii Kai murmured, the Venusian having to rub her eyes. “What happened to the-?”
“HIYA GUYS!”
The heroes collectively jumped and spun around, before they saw their perky inter support girl bouncing as she came out the side door. “Katie! Are you alright?!” Black Willow asked, concerned.
The intern waved her hand, and the heroes noticed how some of the Legion members flinched. “Oh, I’m fine! I got to test out the security system I installed! And it was great!” She beamed widely. “You should have seen it!”
Captain Freedom took a deep breath, wondering if he was going to regret this… “What happened?”
Katie *grinned*. “Well… the proximity alarm went off maybe an hour after you guys left and I saw them on the security camera and nearly had a panic attack! But then when they came in I realized that they didn’t know I was there so I decided that I could surprise them! So I enabled the systems I installed and then told them over the intercom that they had to surrender or leave! ‘Course Magnetis wasn’t very nice and crushed a camera! So I decided if they were going to be nice I wouldn’t either! That’s when I decided to activate the party system that was put in *just* in case we ever did have a party, but since the security system was activated the two systems merged and I was able to control both!” Her grin grew as the downed Legion members *shivered* despite being encased in a dome by Geometric. “So I got to unleash the silly string cannons, the paint balloon mines, boat party music at *insane* volumes, send confetti and streamers *everywhere*, and unleash an oil paint flood across the floor! And it was all in *neon*!” She then pouted. “Then Sceamer got mad and blasted a few walls so I had to activate the tasers, but then they reflected off the disco balls and went *everywhere*, so I hit more than her, which led to a mass retreat out the door! But then they slipped on the mess and ended up hitting the blast door so I *had* to send in the cleaning drones. But then those malfunctioned and went haywire, so I took mercy on the baddies and let them out! That’s when you guys came back and-! Oh!” The intern then pulled out a remote. “I forgot that one of them grabbed one of my devices!” She pressed a button.
Snatcher barely had any time to react before the device in his pocket *exploded*…
And then the villains inside the dome were covered in neon feathers.
The heroes were quiet as they stared at the humiliated villains… then Captain Freedom patted her shoulder. “Katie, you managed to capture the Legion all on your own, *without* super human powers.” He smiled at her. “I think you’ll fit right in.”
The girl beamed and started jumping up and down in excitement. “THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU-!!”
The Legion winced within their prison as the heroes laughed at the intern’s excitement. They were *doomed*.
(Something on the crazy side. Just cause! ;D) | BEEP BEEP BEEP
The alarm woke me up from my nap with a start. "Dammit, whats wrong now?" I said as i sat up at my desk. A quick scan if the base revealed a breach of the outer section of the base. "They never learn." Another Villain trying to be a hotshot by attacking while the others are out. I link my watch to the central control server and grab the pistol belt ganging by the door. The Villain turns out to be a new guy, just some rich kid who hired some gang to take our base over. They had numbers, but I had the homefeild advantage. Maintenince ducts that opened to trapdoors made perfect ambush points and the security cameras gave me perfect visuals of their locations. Half an hour and three magazines of 9mm later had me dragging their bodies to the basement morgue. All that was left was their employer. I stopped by the Armory to pick up my rifle. "Hopefully they get the message this time." I then started to 40 minute drive across to his house. | 2021-05-22T14:39:01 | 2021-05-22T10:49:37 | 37 | 17 |
[WP] The zombie apocalypse is much different than you had imagined. Instead of moaning "braaaaaiiinnnss" and clumsily shambling along, your infected daughter is crying on the other side of your locked door, begging to be let in. | We called them zombies, for lack of a better word. The term referred more to the fact that the person who owned that body, in the before, was dead, but the body wasn’t actually dead. They also didn’t crave human flesh, another “zombie” oversight.
You see, something happened to our planet. We called it The Spore. It has been on Earth since life first began, but humans only just discovered it.
The Depths project found it. This was a two manned submarine able to explore the bottom of the ocean at depths never before reached. They took samples of fauna and flora from a deep underwater cavern and brought them topside to study. The research was done in Boston, or ground zero. Once the spore dried in the open air, it infected and reproduced. It was so fast, humans really didn’t even put up a fight. People simply, turned. Their mind was gone, their eyes turned bright gold. They lost all their hair and even had bioluminescent qualities on their skin and eyes.
What we didn’t understand, until some time after the end, was that our infected loved ones were not mindless killing machines. Instead, the Spore, was alive. It was a perfect symbiosis take over of their hosts. The host kept the brains bodily functions, while the Spore controlled the mind, the consciousness. Speech and movement were taken over as well. They were now, together, the perfect predator. They didn’t have the high functions of humans such as love and empathy and hate. They were like animals, living for the hunt. And now, they were at the top of the food chain. It started with the infected going home and brutally killing their family and neighbors. Then it spread out.
But, we could handle that. Humans, we could overcome this and we kept them at bay for a very long time. We had been living for five years in the after. Much of the world was gone, even more was in pieces. But the remaining humans, holed up in their small compound communities across the globe, held together by ham radios and satellites, we could beat this. For the last year the attacks were getting less and less. We were winning. Infection rates were down, we were learning to adapt.
A soft whimper from the other side of the door intruded my thoughts. I closed my eyes as tears silently fell down my cheeks.
We were so close.
“Mommy?”
My hand flew to my mouth to stifle my strangled sob.
“Mama, it’s me. Please, Mommy...I need you!” I gave up trying to hide my sobs and banged the back of my head in frustration against the metal door that separated me from what was left of my 12 year old daughter. Her voice was desperate and some primal need inside me warred against my mind. I was her mother, she needed me! My body wanted to obey even if my mind knew that was stupid.
I grabbed the small waste bin on the floor next to me and heaved. Oh we were so stupid. They were better than us in most ways, they were agile, fit, superhuman strength and senses. But we were smart, we told ourselves, they were just animals. We knew, we had always known, they were cunning and devious. They were not arrogant, like us pathetic humans. Their greatest weapon was that they had our memories. And we never saw that coming, until now.
They had advanced so much in five short years. They went from random attacks and killing to planned assaults, to command structures and now to their own version of a WMD. They had bided their time for a whole year while they figured out our memories and how to use them.
While we didn’t think they could remember, or if they could that they couldn’t understand them. We theorized that the reason they didn’t have higher thinking capabilities was because in species terms they were infants. But that given time, their sentience would grow. But not this fast. They went from basically primordial ooze to teenagers, using our own emotions against us, in five short years.
“Please Mommy,” came a frightened whisper, “I’m scared, I hear noises!” I could hear them too. The screams and cries from the dying in the rest of the complex.
I readjusted myself against the door, the handle was digging into my back, I didn’t consider how good their hearing is. The moment I moved she charged the door. In one deft and nimble movement, like a deadly ballerina, I was pinned against the door, her boot lodged at my throat.
Her beautiful brown hair was gone. Her skin was almost transparent , but bioluminescent blue and green lights trailed her skin like highways in the dim light. Her eyes, cold and calculating were bright gold, shining in the dark.
She had grown, I realized. She wasn’t a prepubescent 12 year old, no she would be 17 now. Fresh tears streamed down my face as I stared at my baby girl, because past all that I could still see her there.
“You’re so beautiful.” I sobbed against the boot.
Those hard eyes, cold like steel bore into me. I knew my last breath was coming, but I was actually glad my final sight would be of her. I simply stared into those eyes trying to remember the deep ocean of brown they once were. Ever so slightly though, I saw something change inside those eyes. I saw, emotion, behind them, like an ember trying to light.
“Hannah?” I gasped. | She was only 15.
The knob rattles as the door wrenches from its frame, barely able to stand tall with the onslaught of her nimble frame ramming into the door.
“Daddy, please! Why won’t you let me in! I just want to be with you!”
Don’t listen to her. Don’t listen to her, she can’t be trusted. You saw the mark on her arm. They got to her, they had to have. That scar couldn’t be mistaken for anything else.
“Dad, I’m scared, you’re never like this! Please just unlock the door!”
Her mother went the same way, you can’t get the sight of her head being ripped open from the force of the slug that came from the barrel of *your* gun. For Christ’s sake, she was your *wife*, the woman you told everything to, you held dear for so long, just torn from your life by a single mistake.
She turned so quickly. She saw you, feverishly shaking, the gun barely aimed, and she screamed and *ran* at you.
...What’s done is done.
“Why won’t you answer me! I know you’re in there, open the fucking door, PLEASE!”
They’realldeadthey’realldeadthey’realldead you tell yourself, because if you didn’t constantly ram the thought through your thick skull you’d open the door and join them.
It’s too much, why did this have to happen, why did this have TO **FUCKING** HAPPEN.
You launch the table next to you across the room. It breaks into a million pieces. You’ll clean it up later, you just want her to stop and leave before she brings more of them here.
The door won’t be able to handle much more.
“Daddy, we’re all here for you! We’re just scared, please come out and talk to me! They said you missed your dose, I just want to make sure you’re okay!”
You hear a wailing in the distance. The rest are coming. Your time is up.
You know it has to end, but, you want to go out in your control.
If they can take your family from you, you can take them back with you.
“Okay...I’m coming out.”
You quietly pull the slide on your pistol.
| 2018-09-06T19:48:27 | 2018-09-06T18:54:24 | 135 | 77 |
[WP] The Terran diplomat screamed with mind-numbing intensity: "DEEPEST APOLOGIES BUT AS YOU CAN TELL, HUMANS DO NOT HAVE THE ABILITY TO MODULATE OUR PSYCHIC VOICES. IT WOULD BE BEST TO REENABLE PSI SHIELDING AND STICK TO MACHINE TRANSLATION." | "DEEPEST APOLOGIES, BUT AS YOU CAN TELL, HUMANS DO NOT HAVE THE ABILITY TO MODULATE OUR PSYCHIC VOICES. IT WOULD BE BEST TO REENABLE PSI SHIELDING AND STICK TO MACHINE TRANSLATION."
Joruk worked his feelers back and forth in a gesture meant to be considerate. "I understand your concerns, Diplomat Karen Nguyen, but we have to ensure communications are straightforward, clear, and sincere. The best way to do that is to stay connected to the mind-link here in the PSI-Chamber."
Karen squared her shoulders. "I AM SERIOUS ABOUT THE PSI SHIELDING. THERE HAVE BEEN MANY THAT HAVE TRIED TO COMMUNICATE WITH US VIA PSYCHIC CHANNELS. BUT EVEN THOSE RACES THAT HAVE BEEN ABLE TO DEAL WITH THE STRAIN HAVE NOT BEEN ABLE TO DEAL WITH THE SECONDARY PROBLEMS. DANGEROUS ONES. MACHINE TRANSLATION WILL BYPASS THOSE DANGERS."
mBok-To loomed over the proceedings. "While you are loud, little one, I can handle this shouting. Most of this meeting will not need your input, as you are here solely to give us additional perspective before we make a decision about your planet. The mind-link will be needed to ensure you are fully truthful when you testify. Your race has been known to use deception and subterfuge before."
Karen shook her head and shrugged. "IT'S YOUR FUNERAL. THE EARTH PROTECTORATE ABSOLVES ANY RESPONSIBILITY FOR WHAT WILL HAPPEN."
With a short burst of energy, Txvolvu brought everyone to attention. "This gathering of the Alliance of Worlds will now come to order. Today, we will make the final decision as to what to do with the newest space-faring race to arrive: Humans. So far, there have been many..."
*...never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down, never...*
"...many, uhm, many arguments in favor of letting them remain unincorporated, but far more that have..."
*...never gonna give, never gonna give...*
"...uh, that have been in favor of WHAT IS THAT?"
"SORRY, THAT WOULD BE ME. THIS IS WHAT I WARNED YOU ABOUT"
Txvolvu stiffened. "Is that...supposed to be music?"
*What is love...baby don't hurt me...don't hurt me...no more*
"YES. OUR SPECIES HAS A COMMON PHENOMENA HAPPEN TO US. WE GET MUSIC STUCK IN OUR HEADS."
mBok-To shuddered. "Can you please not do that? It's...it's painful to listen to."
"IT'S COMPLETELY INVOLUNTARY. THE ONLY WAY WE CAN MANAGE TO GET THE MUSIC OUT OF OUR HEADS IS TO PUT ANOTHER SONG, A WORSE SONG IN IT. LIKE THIS."
*I love you, you love me, we're a happy fam...*
Phenderi clawed at her face until it was bleeding. "By the stars above, make it stop!"
Txvolvu slammed the silver sphere he'd been holding on the podium. "My associates, we can weather through this. We'll just ask the..."
*Gee, I hope you love me too. I love...*
"...the questions of the witness and send them on. Diplomat Karen Nguyen, answer these questions and answer them quickly. How many human ships of your Earth Protectorate are currently spaceworthy?"
"LIKE HOW MANY WE HAVE IN THE FORCES, OR JUST THOSE THAT WORK WITH THE FORCE?"
"I want to hear all of them, including the ones that work with the Force."
"OH...OH NO...I'M SO SORRY ABOUT THIS."
*some of those that work forces...are the same that burn crosses*
A tension built in the room.
"Wait, is this a worse one?"
*Some of those that work forces...Are the same that burn crosses*
"LOOK, YOU'LL WANT TO TURN THAT SHIELD ON NOW"
*SOME of those that work FORCES...ARE the same that burn CROSSES*
"We will not be intimidated into breaking protocols that have stood...for decades..."
*SOME OF THOSE THAT WORK FORCES...ARE THE SAME THAT BURN CROSSES!*
*HUH!*
And at that, the congregation collapsed to the floor. All of them writhing in pain and agony. Psychic noise scattered amongst them, disrupting their own thought patterns. Some let out audible screams.
And Karen Nguyen, now standing above them all, calmly walked over to Txvolvu's console.
*KILLING IN THE NAME OF...*
She reached over the edge of the console, and with a few button presses, she enabled the Psi-Shield.
Slowly, everyone started getting back up, most of them cradling what they considered their heads. Txvolvu seemed to recover fastest, and was now leaning against the console. But his eye stalks were all glaring at the human. Karen simply shrugged helplessly. And without a word, Txvolvu pointed her out the door.
-----------------------
Later, on the E.P. SUN TZU...
Captain Browder poured a glass of brandy and handed it to Diplomat Nguyen. "I gotta say, that was a ballsy move you people at the Diplomatic Corps came up with. We were just about to throw in the towel because of how much more firepower they had. I mean, I love the human race, but we're just getting started on real space travel, and these bastards have literally centuries of a head start on us. If they came at us full force, we wouldn't stand a chance."
Karen smiled. "Well, we had the advantage that our thought patterns seem almost painful to them, especially some of our music. It actually took months of surreptitious testing to find out what affected them the worst. I was picked because of my...affinity for Rage Against The Machine."
Browder grinned in return. "Well, you at least bought us the time we needed. We know they're almost certainly going to come for us, and your bluffing about the Psi-screens gave us the chance to lie through our teeth through the translator machines. They probably won't make a move against the fleet until it's too late, and by then, our colony ships will be long gone."
Karen's glass dipped down and she sighed. "It still hurts. I don't want to leave the Earth, but I know in my heart they'll exterminate us. If for no reason than to never get 'It's a Small World' stuck in their mind-link."
The Captain brought up his glass with a wistful sigh. "Well, then, here's to the poison of human thought. Cheers." | "Can someone call maintenance? My Synaptic Toilet is malfunctioning."
The stars glittered in the darkness of space, turning with all the synergy of a well-executed team-building event. Middle Executive Manager Winston Zigglesent would have thought more prosaically, but that would have required him to submit the appropriate paperwork to Sentient Resources, and wait 3-5 business days for approval. Raised from a polyp to be a bureaucrat, the tentacled abomination in a ten-piece suit found great satisfaction in his work and had been nominated for Employee-of-the-Cycle at least three times. However thinking prosaic thoughts were not part of his Essential Work Function (EWF), and he wasn't about to spend the time to file an EWF Integration request with SR just to have nice thoughts about giant balls of burning gas.
Tapping a few tentacles on his console, he reviewed his inbox. Ah. His Department Supervisor had scheduled a Conference Call at tenth cycle in Tangent Garden. Fuck.
Winston hated Tangent Garden with a passion. The conference room was bright, colorful, full of chirping flying creatures, and flora that many other races found attractive. To Winston however, who could see several spectra other than what humans would have called "visible" Tangent Garden was the color and smell of a partially digested meal and made him want to be sick. However the abomination felt the need to be a team player, so for the sake of his coworkers, and placating his unspeakable bitch of a supervisor Ka'ren, he would do his best to tolerate the sheer unpleasantness of the Tangent Garden conference room.
His particular duties revolved around the induction of new worlds into the Union, and harmonization of records between worlds. The IU operated in several galaxies and had population that could only be reasonably expressed as a very large logarithm. The eldritch abomination worked in the Tax and Recordkeeping division. They were expected to be accurate to the individual level individual, and maintain all relevant personal information for at least one base galactic cycle.
Winston knew what the meeting would be about. The IU had encountered a new species of sentient. For several reasons, his team had been selected to manage the induction process simply because the Terrans were psychically sensitive, and IU rules required. His unfortunate "tolerance" for the favored environments of bipeds had made Winston an asset in the bureaucracy. An asset?! Where had his career gone so wrong?
Later, staring at the Terran ambassador across the conference table, the Eldritch abomination wondered how he had gone so wrong. The Terrans were hideous. His skin wanted to crawl off of him, and run away. Every polyp in his body was telling him to flee.
"Greetings Ambassador" Winston began. "The Interstellar Union would...oh wait." The ambassador's eyes were bloody sockets, and his mouth was opened in a wordless primal scream.
"Dammit, not again" the eldrich abomination sighed, navigating his way through a five thousand tier deep phone tree in less than five hundred milliseconds. "Hello, medical--could you get a team to Tangent Garden? We've had another psychic overburden event. Yes, I'll have the forms ready."
A memo went out immediately. "HUMANS DO NOT HAVE THE ABILITY TO MODULATE INTENSE PSYCHIC VOICES. IT WOULD BE BEST TO REENABLE PSI SHIELDING AND STICK TO MACHINE TRANSLATION."
*Fuckinge Ka'ren.* Maintenance still hadn't been around to fix his synaptic toilet. | 2020-05-27T22:16:14 | 2020-05-27T22:00:37 | 1,415 | 60 |
[WP] Magic is real, and there are a lit of ways to cast it, from playing music, using cards, to less socially acceptable ways. Each person can only cast one way. | Everyone knows how to cast their magic instinctively. My mother could cast spells based on Tarot cards, my father could use the power of automotives to power his mana. But I dared not cast my own personal spells, however. The price was too high.
I walked down the street to see my landlord sticking an eviction notice to my wall. 'If you just used your magic like I asked you wouldn't be in this mess,' he sneered before walking past me.
He had no idea that the authorities gave me special permission to refrain from my legal duty to use magic, or how I've recorded him saying he was evicting me unlawfully. I'll speak to my attorney tomorrow.
But things only got worse when I got home. An email from my company stating the implementation of mandatory usage of magic in the workplace and failure to comply meant dismissal, a message from my sister lambasting me for being "selfish" over not putting my own *life* at risk over whatever new fucking political cause she's subscribed to this week, about 50 different reporters who learned from my "friends" about my condition which undoubtedly sold my information for some money...
I walked into the main room, a kitchen/living room and grabbed a knife before sitting on the armchair. I sighed deeply as I looked at the glistening blade, wandering about how terrible my decision was. The last time I did this, I wound up living with a prosthetic left hand.
I almost didn't feel the knife going into my heart, seeing the blood pouring out as I pulled it out. No, I just focused on the sickeningly beautiful red and the moon reflected from it... before he rose from the bottle.
'Jackie Boy,' he said in a mocking tone as he raised up to eye-level. 'I thought that suicide was a sin for Catholics.'
'I didn't do this to summon you,' I snarled to him. 'Let me die in peace.'
'You know I can't do that,' the goblin said as he held my weakened head up. 'Are you that fed up with the world?'
'Everyone can use their magic except me?' I asked. 'I'm being made homeless, my sister's calling me a "Selfish bastard" and my friends were bought by the press. Why couldn't I have a normal remuneration like breaking fingers?'
'No clue,' the goblin said as he looked at my heart. 'I'm just following the Big Guy's orders. And I come here whenever I smell your mana. You want to use magic so why would you bleed yourself? You could hang or take a sleeping pill.'
'Maybe one last "Fuck you",' I said.
'You know I can't let you do that,' the goblin said as he pulled out a needle and thread and got to work on my knife wound. 'We may not look as you mortal expected us but we angels do look out for you little idiots. It's sort of like how you had that dog, Toby.'
'Until Grandma ate him for her magic,' I said sadly.
'And then you cut your arm off,' the goblin said. 'Remember when you first summoned me? What I said? I'd look out for ya. I promised. And I'm a goblin of my word.'
The blood started pumping in my veins, the pool I spilled gone from sight. I was still tired as the goblin dragged me into the bedroom, placing me onto the bed and magicking away my clothes and enchanting the sheets over me.
He headed to the laptop, sending out a few emails. I could only read the subject of one message weakly from my bed. "Jackie attempted suicide - his little friend. Get here ASAP". I could read lines of a particularly *nasty* email to my sisters. "You're a maggot-ridden cunt" was the *least* offensive thing I saw him type.
'You know, you created a *lot* of mana,' the goblin said. 'You could do a number with it.'
'Like what?' I asked him as I tried to sit up.
'Don't you worry,' the goblin said. 'You rest here. I'm gonna make good use of my 24 hours in this world.'
I passed out as he was saying those words. The next thing I knew was the sound of chirping outside my window (very uncommon in this bad neighborhood), the sound of sirens outside (very common) and the sound of banging on my door (more common than you'd think).
I stood up, still weak from last night. My legs pounded on the floor as I struggled to lift them before I unlocked the door.
Detective Jane Montoya was there, as was the goblin. She had a look of severe unease, some concern and some anger. 'Your goblin woke me this morning by dumping cold water over my entire bed,' she said to me. 'What did I say about using your magic?'
'Hey, it wasn't intentional,' I said to her. 'I was just hoping to kill myself in peace and the little bastard showed.'
Her eyes went wide. She pushed the door open fully before placing a hand on my chest, on my... pearl-white scar from the night before.
'And I showed you the emails from last night,' the goblin said. 'Under the Lynch Act, driving an omega-class mage into sacrificial magic is equated to either a manslaughter or murder charge...'
'You *showed her my emails*?!' I asked.
'We're heading to the station,' Jane said to me. 'Right as soon as you put some pants on.' | "So, what brings you to Slovenia?" the elderly lady asks in halting German.
"Oh, it's a long story!" you say.
"We have lot of time to Ljubljana! I would like to hear." she replies.
"Hmmm, you know that magic returned to the world recently, yes?" you ask. It seems pretty impossible that she did not but you bever know.
"Of course! I personally cast it by baking cakes!" she proudly proclaimed.
"I wish I had such an easy way..." you halt.
"You want to go to Ljubljana to cast a spell?" she asks.
"Tirana, actually. Ljubljana would have worked a while ago, but things changed..." you confess.
"What do you need in Albania of all places? A bunker?" she raises her eyebrows.
"It is not so much that I need to do something in Albania, I need to get to Albania." you say, making a vague gesture.
"So, you cast spells in some unsavory manners?" Now she looks utterly interested.
"Not unsavory so much as impractical. It's not like that guy who needs to draw the spell in human blood that has been on the news. Or the gal who needs to know someone... in the biblical sense." You make another vague gesture.
"Oh, so how do you cast?" she asks. "If you want to tell."
"Crossing a national border." you explain.
"Oh, so the unification of europe must have really made it hard for you!" she said empathetically.
"The bad thing is that I even voted yes in the referendum. Because I didn't know what caused it.." you state.
"This must have sucked to find out!" she said.
"Indeed!" you probably would not have voted against unification and the formation of the Federated States of Europe, but you are not going to be all political.
"So, what is important enough to make a trip to Tirana?" she asks.
"Someone needs to be... helped, I guess you can say." you fully let it open what you mean
"Ah, sounds interesting. And you plan to fly back from Tirana?" she asks.
"I am not sure yet, it might be cheaper to return from Greece."
"Can I in that case give you the name of someone who steadfastly refuses to eat my pies?" | 2017-05-21T12:41:09 | 2017-05-21T10:41:22 | 35 | 17 |
[WP] While browsing on your parent's computer you recieve an email notification addressed to them. It's from an advanced robotics corporation, informing them that the warranty on [your name] expires in 30 days. | "Hey dad," I call out from the den. "Can I use your computer tonight? I've gotta get this assignment finished before morning."
"Sure thing, son," he calls back.
He's already logged on to the computer so I open a browser window and log in to my Google account. 'Only one more page to go,' I think to myself.
I'm just about done when a little notification box pops up on the bottom right. It's an email from a place called RoboLove. What a name! My dad has his notifications set up to show part of a message, so at a glance, I notice my name. I don't even try to ignore it. I click on the notification and the message comes up.
____________________________
Dear Mr. & Mrs. Gardner,
We regret to inform you that the warranty on your existing EX243 Model, Christopher Patrick Gardner, will expire in 30 days of this notice on April 26, 2035.
Please bring your current model in before the warranty expires, and we will replace it with our upgraded EX model, Model #EX275G. Please see the attached document for details on this upgraded model.
____________________________
I couldn't bring myself to read anymore. I had heard about this before. There are advertisements all over the place. The subways, the train stations, our local grocery store. But me? I'm one of those things? How is this possible? I would have had to . . .
I died?
About a year ago, I was riding back from a party with friends. I knew the driver had been drinking a bit, but he seemed all right to drive. We were in an accident and I can remember is waking up a few days later in the hospital. A bump on the head is all I got, my parents had said. The driver lived but the other two in the car weren't so lucky. I remember them; they had been the town sweethearts. I always wondered what had happened to them. Right after I got out of the hospital we moved. I had never known why. My parents were very quiet about the whole thing. I think they said my dad got a new job?
I had all of my memories. I guess that's how this works. What am I gonna do? Should I talk to my parents? Delete the email? Shit!
I can hear my dad walking up the hall from his room. I quickly close out the email and go back to my paper. At this point, I can't even remember what my paper's about. Does school even matter anymore?
"How's the research paper going, kiddo?"
"Oh, fine," I reply. "Just finishing up and then headed to my room to work on some math."
"Good!" he exclaims. "By this time next year you're gonna be in college, boy. You keep them grades up!"
I manage to flash a smile his way. I save my doc and rush off to my room. Math? I don't have any math. Ugh! What am I gonna do? I can't just go eat dinner with my parents later and pretend everything's fine. It's not fine! Nothing's fine!
Dinnertime. I'm sitting at the table and I feel overwhelmingly tired. Could be I just found out I'm a robot, so I'm a bit stressed out. I pay it no mind and go about eating. I try to act normal, but what is normal anymore? I'm a freakin' robot! I can't take it anymore. My emotions must have gotten the better of me because I passed out.
I remember waking up in my room and it was morning. We had moved again. I had no memories of finding that email addressed to my parents, or that I'm a robot. The only reason I know is because I forwarded that email to myself before my dad walked in that day.
I have a year before this happens again. | I just sat there in my fathers study perplexed while staring at his monitor. I don't know why I lingered as long as I did, but I couldn't shake that feeling in my gut. My father and I always had a good relationship and we would always sort things out together, so I was sure he wouldn't mind my intrusive questions, but as soon I was about to leave the study I heard the dolor slam. My father walked in, stoic as ever, albeit a little paler than usual as his eyes glanced at the text scrawled across the screen.
"Watcha looking at there son?"
"I don't know" I replied finally averting my eyes from the blank screen.
"It doesn't look like anything to me." | 2017-01-14T09:01:07 | 2017-01-14T07:44:52 | 28 | 12 |
[WP]As a member of an archeological team, your area of expertise isn’t in language, architecture, or anything like that. It’s in convincing the various guardian spirits and protector deities your team awakens not to unleash their wrath in the name of people who have been dead for thousands of years. | Clara sat up straight, a feeling of dread overcoming her. Her necklace was burning up. She ran her fingers over the little vial and the ring. Something was very very wrong. She couldn’t wait. It didn’t matter that they didn’t want her. This was going to get ugly. And they’d need help.
Two hours later she was on a flight to the Springfield airport. It was closest to Sutton, which is where they were digging. Sutton, also commonly known among the locals as Fool’s March. Since only fools marched in there.
Clara was feeling extremely restless. She put on a movie on her phone, only half paying attention to it. It was some mindless Adam Sandler movie. As Adam and his friends took a vacation to some exotic location, Clara wondered about some of her own travels. The things she had seen. The things she had talked to. Of course, most people didn’t usually believe her. Even if they had been face to face with the spirits right there along with her at the time. They’d usually dismiss it as a hallucination or delusion, conveniently forgetting their very own screams of fear minutes ago.
Clara had learnt that when people saw something that challenged their reality, they just held on to the reality more tightly.
Adam smiled and looked at her from the screen. “Hey Clara. What’s my name?”
Clara was still lost in her thoughts.
“Hello! Clara?”
Clara finally noticed it. There was no character that shared her name in the movie. She turned her attention to her screen.
The Adam looking back at her wasn’t the one she was used to. This was a grotesque being, half of its head split in two. Each part had an eye each and at the moment they were both trained on her. “What’s my name, Clara?”
“I… I don’t know.”
“Well then. I’ll have to tell it you then. Come closer. Let me tell you my name. You know you want to know.”
Clara fought against it. But even against her will she found herself moving closer to the screen. Looking at the… the thing. The other characters in the movie smiled and laughed, carrying on an usual.
Clara felt her fear rise. Her eyes were touching the screen now. The thing reached out and…
“Ma’am, would you like anything to drink?”
Clara opened her eyes, noticing the air hostess moving around with the drinks tray. She looked back at the screen as grown ups were acting like silly children. She turned it off.
Should’ve brought a book instead, she thought to herself. No way she would get any sleep now.
As the plane landed, Clara felt her heartbeat rise again. She turned off her phone from the aeroplane mode. She had read somewhere that it didn’t really matter if you did that but Clara didn’t care. She had learnt to follow rules at a very early age. She ran her fingers over the ring hanging around her neck again.
4 missed calls. It was Professor Anand.
God damn it. They should’ve listened to her.
She called him back but there was no response.
The first taxi she hailed refused to take her to anywhere close to Sutton. So did the next two. She finally offered the next one an obscene amount of money. He agreed to drop her off about a couple of miles away from the ghost town.
“Why’s everyone so scared to go there?”
The taxi driver adjusted his mirror looking at the young woman. “It’s haunted.”
“Oh really? By whom?”
“No one knows. We just know that no one who goes there comes back.”
“Then how do you know it’s ghosts.”
“What else could it be?”
“What else indeed. I was reading up about this place. Seems like a whole colony disappeared here.”
“Yeah. Not just one. Two. The first one was actually pretty well documented. That was back in the 18th century. But what history books usually ignore is that it happened again about 10 years later. They usually conflate the two events. But it’s happened twice.”
“Interesting.”
“Are you an archaeologist?”
Clara laughed. “Not exactly. I do work with really really old things. But no. I’m not an archaeologist.”
“I saw them come in you know. Tried to warn them too. They wouldn’t listen. They rented a van. Sam didn’t want to. But they pushed him hard.”
“Yeah everyone seems to avoid that place.”
“For good reason. Look, I’d implore you to not go there.”
Clara ran her hand over the vial and the ring hanging around her neck once again. “I wouldn’t if I had a choice.”
They travelled the rest of the way in silence. Finally the taxi came to a stop and the driver pointed towards the setting sun. “That direction. Not too far. But I’d suggest you atleast wait till tomorrow morning. Don’t go there in the night.”
She looked at her phone. No signal. No further messages from the professor. “Thank you.” She included a generous tip, raised her hand to the driver, put on her sunglasses and started walking.
She had walked for about 15 minutes when she came upon the remnants of a campfire. There were some cigarette ash and wrappers thrown around the place too. Looks like they had stopped here. Probably gotten here late. Unlike her, they had been in no hurry. Theirs was work best done in light when they could see what they were digging. Hers was the opposite. Her friends were much more likely to meet her when the sun had hidden in the cloak of darkness.
She spotted the town in the distance after walking for another ten minutes or so. It was starting to get dark. She hurried on.
She saw the van parked right inside the gates of the settlement. It was an ancient design, with some exemplary etchings and art. She turned on her flashlight, looking closely at the designs.
The sealing design. But not exactly the sort she was used to seeing. It was almost like two seals interposed one each other. Weird. She took a picture with her phone as she swung her flashlight checking out the town ruins.
She almost dropped it as she saw a face staring back at her from the van.
It was Professor Anand. He was waving at her, making motions to attract her attention.
She waved back as she walked towards the van.
He kept motioning to her, trying to indicate or point at something behind her.
She turned around but there was nothing there.
She entered the ruins and started walking towards the van. She noticed the Professor sit down, hand on his forehead. She also felt a gentle push as she crossed the entrance.
She looked behind her and for an instance, there was nothing. Just darkness. Slowly her eyes adjusted and she saw the way she had walked from. With the tree where the digging party had set up camp looking more like a little shrub in the distance.
She entered the van. “Professor! I was worried about you.”
“I tried to warn you. You shouldn’t have entered this place. Now you can’t go back. You’re trapped here with us. With it. You shouldn’t have come here, Clara.”
In the distance, she heard a scream. But even at a distance, even not fully hearing it, she could tell that this was no human scream. Something was in the city with them. | "Why is he here?" Jamie whispered to her colleague, thinking that I couldn't hear. Nobody on the team knew my hearing was unusually acute.
"We had an extra bunk, so we invited the first guy we saw on the street," her friend quipped back.
I smiled. It wasn't a smile of amusement or sadness or restrained fury. It was just *old*. Old and tired. The effect was created by my emotional maelstrom, which as powerful as I am, I can never suppress. My inhuman origins demand that I consider myself above petty mortal pecking orders, looking down at the fragile beings with utmost disdain, yet working with this archeological team, and many others teams before, has birthed in me a desire for validation. As stupid as it sounds, I want them to accept me.
"Everyone listen up!" The team leader, Jacques, motioned for the group's attention. "We're going into the temple for *photographs only*. We'll get samples and start analyzing later. Be on your best behavior everyone."
There were nods all around, and single-file we walked into the newly-unearthed temple. There was no official order in how we entered, but it was clear that everyone walked in sequence of their importance. As such, I -- the young, resident vagabond -- was dead last. Before walking through the dark awning, I saw Jamie flip me one last contemptuous glance. She hated people that didn't pull their weight.
All went smoothly at first. Flashlights illuminated intricate carvings while team members took photographs from all angles. It wasn't until Jamie, in her eagerness to get a close-shot on a set of ancient pottery, bumped into a rotting wooden table that there was trouble.
"WHO DARES DISTURB THE REFUGE OF MY PEOPLE! SURELY NONE WISH TO INCUR THE WRATH OF LEOTIDE IV?"
As I expected, everyone immediately cowered against the walls. They even covered their ears, as if that would stop the booming celestial voice from projecting its will. It was then that the outcast of the group stepped forward, and the least important member of the team fulfilled his purpose. I spoke up.
"Peace Great Davar!" I urged, my hands up in a placating gesture -- something I learned from Jacques that was utterly useless when dealing with a minor god. "My humans bear no ill tidings."
"YET THEY DEFAME MY TEMPLE! WHAT WOULD VERXES SAY NOW?"
Without noticing, I began to float above the ground. The rest of the team gawked like I wasn't human. I guess I wasn't.
"Pure misunderstanding. They do not grasp the sacredness of the table or the solemnity of this temple. Fear not Davar. I shall teach them before any great harm befalls the house of your people."
"FINE BUT.... Alright you've always been trustworthy in the past. Don't let me down on this one."
Then in a flash the temple god removed his presence. I breathed a sigh of relief. When I turned around to see the entire group watching me with fear and reverence splattered together into a collection of dropped jaws, I knew what I must do. What I am bound to do.
A wave of my hand and almost everyone forgets the event ever happens. All they remember is they should be really careful around sacred wooden tables.
But this time, I can't bring myself to erase one person's memory. Jamie stares at me with wide eyes while the rest of the team resumes their photographing as if nothing had changed. I left the event emblazoned in her brain, along with the knowledge of how I had come to the team. Her great grandmother had invoked my name, binding me to protect her last living descendant. So I hide as a vagabond that nobody knows the purpose of but that everyone accepts implicitly they must keep around. I had to find a few loopholes in the contract her great grandmother had bound me with to leave the memory, but it was worth it to see her grateful smile.
Because though I may be a god, it still felt good to be appreciated. | 2021-08-24T22:31:11 | 2021-08-24T22:14:40 | 166 | 52 |
[WP] Everyone has a familiar. Most have cute animals such as dogs, cats, birds, etc. You on the other hand have a human sized Cthulhu, and everyone can see it. | Familiars aren't there when you're born, they usually start manifesting when kids turn 12, sometimes 13 for the slow bloomers. But when they first appear only you can see them, and they slowly fade into existance for everyone else. Some people have familiars that are only seen by them. Of course we've all heard the claims of mythical creatures as familiars but they're always by people whose familiar stays invisible, so it's assumed to be false. Some familiars become visible within hours of you first seeing them. Mine took years.
I remember when he first appeared. There I was 13 sitting in literature class, half-listening to the lecture. When out of the corner of my eye I saw him. Maybe six feet tall, towering over me as I sat at my desk. The teacher turned to me when I audibly gasped. "Come on Devin, I know it's exciting to first see your familiar but can you please focus." said Mr. Samuelson, to be fair the last student who first saw their familiar jumped up on her desk and started screaming and pointing at something that no one else could see. Apparently a rat isn't something a young girl hopes to have following her for the rest of her life. Luckily after a week or so she'd decided the rat *wasn't so bad after all*.
Mr. Samuelson started into his, "Don't disrupt the class with news about your familiar" speach once again. But I couldn't take my eyes off of the towering figure. With it's tentacles and wings hovering over my I was transfixed. My Classmate and best friend John leaned over and excitedly whispered, "What is it? What did you get?!" his snake Lucy was wrapped around his arm as usual. I looked back at him, then back up at the monster, as I did it took a few steps away and faded out of existence. "It's gone!" i whispered back. John snickered, "They do that sometimes before they become permanent, don't worry. But come on, spill spill, what is it!!". I turned in my chair and faced him. "You gotta believe me, I'm not kidding" I said with the most serious voice a thirteen year old boy could muster. John nodded looking slightly confused. I leaned closer, "It was Cthulhu." John leaned back and audibly laughed, which then prompted Mr. Samuelson and his Eagle perched in the room to give us the **evil eye**. We fell silent and attempted to focus on the lesson at hand.
For weeks after that John hounded me to know what my creature *really* was. I attempted to convince him and each time he's eventually say something along the lines of, "Sure sure, totally I believe you." but something about his tone made me think he'd never believe me.
Friends and family members would ask if I'd seen mine yet, what it was, when they'd be able to see it too. After trying to convice my uncle of what my familiar was and being called a liar, I gave up. I didn't want to be known as one of the crazy people who had invisible familiars that always *happened* to be mythical. I just told people it was a bird. That's why I was looking up to see it. They accepted that, and with the mystery gone they lost interest.
The years went by, I graduated and moved out getting a boring desk job. Every day I saw Cthulhu and wondered if anyone else would ever be able to see him. Everyday I woke up and he was there. When I was home in the aparentment I'd talk to him, like you would any pet. His strange thrumming noises in return used to scare me but now they're comforting and I understand what he means. We've grown quite close over the years, but it's always frustrated me that I'm the only one who can see him. But i've started to accept it. I wrapped my scarf around my neck, pulling on my coat before leaving the house. I straighten the headphones I'm wearing before starting my walk to work. Now i've taken this same route everyday for as long as i've worked here, and today was the most commotion i'd ever seen. There had been a string of robberies in the area recently, and I saw a news reporter recording an early morning special as I passed. Even with the crowded street, no one ran into me. Which was rare, but I took it as a sign that today would be a good day.
As I stepped inside the elevator in my building my phone chimed. I reached in my pocket and pulled it out. It was a snapchat from John, i tapped it, waiting for it to load. The elevator doors opened to my floor and I stepped out, surprised to see that most of the people had stopped what they were doing and were staring at me. I tapped the icon again and a picture popped up of John's tv with Cthulu and I in clear view behind the news anchor, captioned "HOLY SHIT YOU WEREN'T LYING".
| Everyone was born with a familiar. It became a normal thing after its introduction 2000 years ago.
From what I've read, at its first occurrence it caused mass hysteria that almost led to the extinction of the human race. It just happened, babies that were born on 2020 had a creature appear beside it an hour after its birth. Nobody knew why, no one can explain that time so everyone panicked and all went south. It took humanity 5 years to figure it all out and live with it in peace.
All those years researching, they found out that every creature symbolised the very personality of its master. These creatures always keep at their master's side, protecting and guiding them at all cost. Thus, started this whole familiar and its master thing.
A dog who is loyal, a cat who is proud, a sly fox... The list of animals that appears as a familiar goes on. They said it's easier to know someone just by looking at their familiar.
My husband who has a wolf as his familiar, just as he's loyal, he's strong and kept me and the baby inside my belly healthy and well taken care of. It's admiring and cute to see him lead a pack of his own if you put it that way.
I have an owl as a familiar. My friends said, a master bound to a wolf and the other an owl is a weird mix for them. But it never caused us any trouble to be honest.
Both can be different, but I see it as strength and wisdom bonded together. Isn't that a good thing? I'm sure that the baby in my belly will possess a familiar that will signify both and I can't wait to meet them.
But that was 8 years ago...
I've lost count on how many times we ran away to hide our child. I strongly believe that what they thought about familiars indicating one's personality, is wrong. I want to...
I want to keep my faith...
But to see a dying familiar beside the mangled body of my once, proud and strong husband... | 2018-03-04T17:14:28 | 2018-03-04T14:20:41 | 86 | 53 |
[WP] "This is an Emergency Alert. Barricade all entries to your house. Do not go outside after sundown. Restrict contact with others. Do not enter tunnels during daytime. Do not make any light or noise between 6PM and 8AM. Stay inside your homes until dawn. Military aid is unavailable. Good luck." | I turned the T.V. off and listened to the soft blowing wind from the cracked window next to me. I slid it closed as the words rolled over me, their meaning slowly taking hold.
“Military aid is unavailable,” the grim-faced man said before wishing everyone that could hear his voice good luck as the station went back to the crawling white letters over the black screen. Normally the screen would have an accompanied several loud screeches that made my ears want to bleed, but not tonight.
For a few moments I stared at the blank screen, mouth slightly agape, my eyebrows coming together. The broadcast felt like a joke, some elaborate prank on the city. Something to be ignored, laughed at for a passing moment before you got back to your life. As the words settled in me something else bloomed; fear. Anxiety. Tension that busied my hands with the hem of my shirt as the sounds from across the street at the Stevenson house flowed into my ears.
I could see the party starting up, hear the laughing and the overly loud talking. Behind the two-story house I could see the sun kissing the horizon, staining the sky in pinks and oranges that seeped lower and grew darker with each passing second. I watched a car pull up to the already cluttered curb and park, a pair of nicely dressed women stumbling out with drunken giggles. I watched them trek through the freshly mowed lawn and knock on the front door, a crisp red. I watched until the light that spilled out through the doorway was cut off and turned back to my empty house.
Barricading the doors was easy enough and for once I was thankful for all the extra supplies from the do-it-yourself kitchen renovation my one time brother-in-law has insisted upon. I had just enough wood for the doors and most of the windows. By the time I hammered in that last nail, securing the piece of pale wood in place, the sun was gone and the sky was dark. The realization hit me harder than words can describe.
The words of that anchor came to mind. “Do not make any light or noise between 6 P.M. and 8 A.M.,” and a new kind of fear sent my heart thrashing behind the cage of bone. I could taste each quick beat; salty pennies with the burn of bile from my churning stomach.
The clock on the stove, those bright red numbers, read 7:42 P.M. My mouth dried out with a breath. How had the time gone so quickly? I hurried over the tiled floor and covered the numbers with a hand towel, taping it in place with a strip of duct tape. No light.
Each light on the bottom floor clicked off with a soft sound that I felt the entire world could hear. With the last little sound I stood in the dark living room and waited. For what? Death? My mind showed me monsters, creatures from worlds I’ll never know. Horrible beasts with sharp teeth and strong jaws. Things with knives for fingers that long to bathe in my blood. I stood there conjuring up every kind of terrible sight and could still hear the party across the street.
It sounded like things were kicking into high gear. Music throbbed, vibrating the world around it the home. The voices from the yard, both back and front, seeped through my walls hitting my ears muffled and slurred. A delighted scream sent me stomping up the stairs and to my bedroom and to the window pointing out to the neighborhood below.
An impossibly tall and thin figure wrenched a wriggling woman towards the sidewalk. She screamed and giggled and seemed to lightly hit at the figure that kept pulling her along like she weighed less than a feather. No one at the party seemed to mind, or seemed to take much notice at all. The figure took the hits and kept walking, and walking, until they were past the boundaries of my picture window. The next scream I heard wasn’t playful, or fun. It was loud, shrill, and filled with pain.
It sent a spurt of adrenaline through my legs that twitched my calves, made me want to move, to help, to do anything but sit and watch those shadow covered bodies like they were some kind of T.V. show. But I didn’t. I didn’t help and I didn’t move. Not when the screams suddenly cut off mid-sound, and not when that figure strolled back to the party, moving among the bodies like water between rocks.
When the second figure moved into the crowd, ducking through the open front door to get inside, I backed away from the window. I backed up until my legs hit the edge of my bed, I moved around it until my fingertips brushed over her bedside table. I guess it was my bedside table, now. They both were. I couldn’t stop the thoughts from flooding my mind, the questions. Was she safe? Were both of them? Did they catch the warning or were they doing something else at the time or were they too busy unpacking in their new home?
That question pushed me down the stairs as quick and as silent as I can manage on wood steps, and to the front door. Through the cracks I could hear more blood-chilling screams that raised every little hair on my body. They were close. So close. Just beyond the thick wood, calling me forth. Calling me for help.
I’m not a brave person, and I’ve never claimed to be such, but walking away from those screams, those terrified and agony filled sounds, brought such a wave of shame over me I thought I might fall through the earth and shoot out the other side at such a speed I’d be launched into the void of space. I didn’t fall but I did stumble over my own feet.
My shoulder hit the wall and sent a picture to the ground, the one from our trip to Alaska all those years ago. We wanted to see the northern lights, but only saw a lot of grey clouds and snow. The glass pane shattered over our smiling faces sending specks of sharp glitter to the hardwood floor. Each tiny shine seemed to be a wailing siren that singled my existence like a beacon in the night. When everything settled I stood frozen again. Listening. Waiting.
Nothing came. Not that night. And in the morning I saw them, their bodies, littering the nearly trimmed yards of the neighborhood, left behind like discarded scraps. I could see some of them from my window. Blood that clung to grass, the sidewalk, the street, caught the early morning light and gave a dull shine. Some patches looked fresh while others were dark and brown, dry or something close to it. Limbs lay scattered like confetti, parts I couldn’t discern lay in heaps. Seeing the carnage I still worked up the courage to leave the house, somehow. I had to know it wasn’t part of a prank, that it was real. I had to know.
I tied a couple sheets together, and to my bed, pulling the knots tight before opening the window. If it didn’t hold the fall wouldn’t kill me, probably, but I’d have to get the ladder from the shed out back. The dark shed. If tunnels were bad would all dark places be, as well? I shook the question away, storing it for later and pushed the screen out of the windowsill. It landed with a small sound and I leaned over the edge.
It held, my makeshift rope. And I reached the yard with aching shoulders. A body lay in my near my driveway. Rich tawny skin glowing in the golden sunlight, deep black hair spread out around a bloody face. Camilla Greer from two houses down lay on her back, her black dress slick and torn to rags over her stomach. Bile kissed my tongue when I saw she was hollowed out, her meat and organs gone without a trace. Then I noticed her arm, barely clinging to the rest of her body with only a string of muscle.
A gasp left me, echoed by someone down the block. Mr. Lok. Omar. The richly colored robe he wore, red with gold accents, hung loosely around his body, the sash laying near the steps of his porch. The thick cloth dragged behind him, through the stained grass, catching a couple times on the rough sidewalk as he stumbled over the edge of the curb into the street.
I heard his quick breaths before he emptied his stomach next to a piece of glistening gore, and I watched him wipe tears from his wrinkled face. I watched him and heard others, all around us, waking and leaving their homes, taking in the horror that stained the neighborhood, one renowned for its safety. I watched them all as they remembered the parting words of that news anchor, the words that slid through my mind.
“Military aid is unavailable. Good luck.”
It wasn’t a joke, it wasn’t a prank. It was real, and no one was coming to save us. | The warning was clear: if you break any of the rules, you die. Lucy left the house before dawn once to gather stream water, and she never came back. We never even found a body. Alex forgot to turn the light off in his room one night before he fell asleep, and we found him in the morning; drained from within, barely a husk of a man.
It was down to me and Erin in the house, a woman I barely even knew. She was Alex's friend, and prior to the lockdown, I'd only known her as the mysterious girl who showed up to crash for days at a time, always managing to eat my Pop-Tarts in the process. Now she and I were clinging desperately to the hope of rescue, but we knew that it was a vain hope. "Military aid is unavailable," the message had said. No one was coming for us.
The message had also said not to enter tunnels during the day, but that's exactly what Erin and I were suiting up to do. She handed me the hockey equipment we'd found in Alex's closet. He'd been a star goalie for the school team in another life.
"Are you sure about this?" she asked as she put some of the pads on. I nodded. It had been her idea, but I didn't see much of an alternative that didn't involve sitting on my ass all day, waiting it out. I tried on Alex's mask. It fit pretty well, and I grinned behind it. *Just like Casey Jones.*
"What do we have as far as weapons?" I asked. Erin frowned.
"Really just hockey sticks I found in his closet, but it's your house, what else you got?"
My mind went immediately to the knife block in the kitchen, though the thought of using my expensive cooking knives as weapons upset me more than a little. They'd cost me a month's rent, but they might be the most effective things I had on hand. I walked slowly into the kitchen and grabbed the large chef's knife from the block. I hadn't used it since this whole ordeal began, which meant it was still nice and sharp. I grabbed a boning knife for Erin to use just in case the hockey stick didn't prove useful.
When I came back into the living room, Erin's head was bowed in prayer, her hands clasped around the cross necklace I'd always seen her wear. I allowed her a moment of silence, after which her eyes opened with a resolve I'd never seen in her.
"You ready?" she asked. I wasn't, but I nodded anyway.
We opened the door, bracing ourselves for an assault that never came. It was 2 o' clock by my watch, which meant we had a solid four hours to do our business and get back to the house before nightfall. I knew there was a cave system near the campus, thanks to an introductory archaeology course I'd taken sophomore year. That was our target. Maybe if we could find out why we were warned not to enter tunnels, we could find out what was happening.
Fear rose in my chest the closer we got to the tunnels. I knew what we were doing was one of the only courses of action available to us, but I'd be lying if I said it didn't scare the piss out of me. Upon arriving at the tunnels, we peered in, unable to see past about five feet in. I gulped, taking out a flashlight I'd brought to light our way. I don't know how I could have been prepared for what I saw.
Sure enough, there were figures in the tunnel, at least four, by my count. They looked humanoid, which I don't think I'd been expecting. But the most unsettling part is that they were *hanging from the ceiling.* I needed to get closer, to figure out how they were doing it.
My feet slid one in front of the other, as slowly as I could manage while still making forward progress. I was close enough to reach out and touch one of the figures, though I dared not. Shining my flashlight up at the ceiling, I could see the figures all had their feet dug into the soft earth above them, and were somehow hanging from that.
The closest one to me opened his eyes with a start. I stumbled backward, landing squarely on my ass. I tried my best to look intimidating as I brandished the knife I'd brought with me, but whatever it was we were facing down didn't look deterred. I could see the bloodthirst in its eyes, though the scariest thing about it was that it looked totally human, aside from skin so pale it was almost translucent.
Erin cracked her hockey stick over its head, though it didn't appear to notice the injury at all. It slowly turned its eyes to her, dropping from the ceiling and drawing itself up to its full height in one smooth motion. It was taller than it had first appeared; almost as tall as the tunnel itself, some seven and a half feet. Erin recoiled, and that was all the prompting the thing needed.
It lunged at her, baring fangs I could have sworn weren't there a moment before. I cried out, moving as if to stab the thing, though I was still too far away. Erin and the monster tumbled to the ground, making the muffled grunts of a struggle. Suddenly, the monster screeched, loud enough to make my ears bleed. It fell backward, clawing at the burning hole in its chest, and I saw fear in its eyes for the first time.
Erin's expression was one of delighted confusion. The cross on her necklace burned with a soft light, and it suddenly clicked.
"The cross!" I shouted at her, and her confusion gave way to determination. She stood, removing the necklace, and she approached the next sleeping vampire.
*Finally,* I thought. *We can end this.* | 2018-04-18T10:34:08 | 2018-04-18T07:40:08 | 350 | 250 |
[WP] You have a small superpower. Whenever you tap someone on the shoulder, they always look over that shoulder, without fail. At first, you just used this for harmless pranks. Then, you realized you can kill people by tapping both of their shoulders. | I was never a social person. I lost my mother when I was young, before I could even form any memories of her. My father was always working, doing his best to support me and put food on the table. He was a carpenter and he always wore these stupid gloves to avoid splinters. We moved around a lot, pretty much wherever work took him, and I figured it best not to make any too close of friends, figuring I’d inevitably have to move away from them at some point. That was until I met Ben.
This guy was so outgoing you wouldn’t believe. I showed up for my first day at yet another school for my sophomore year of high school. He started a conversation with me as if we had been friends for years. I tried to keep to myself, and I think he sensed that I was what he perceived as “shy.” He thought it was the funniest thing to tap me on the opposite shoulder of where he was standing to make me look the other way. Annoying, but he got a kick out of it and it made me chuckle at times.
I eventually learned not to look. When I started playing the little trick on him, he never did. Without fail, he always looked to where I tapped.
“Ben, this has gotta be the thousandth time you’ve fallen for your own joke.”
“I swear, man. It’s like my muscles and brain work on their own when you tap my shoulder; like it isn’t even up to me.”
Funny, I thought. But it got me thinking. I tried it out on a couple other people I had become acquainted with. They too repeatedly fell for it and claimed the same thing Ben had. I tried tapping both shoulders quickly back to back, and sure enough their head whipped from one shoulder to the next like it had been yanked by some supernatural force. So, what happens if I tap both shoulders at the same time?
I’d guess it’d cancel each other out. After all, what else could happen? Better not to find out either way, I figured.
Fast forward to my senior year, probably the longest I’d stayed in one place. The little prank had been retired for over a year now. On the last day, Ben was feeling a bit reminiscent and decided to pull the ole joke one last time. I fell for it. I turned around to give him a shove and knocked him off his feet. I caught his laughing, falling body by his shoulders when he suddenly went completely limp. All laughing stopped, all movement stopped. I set him down, and checked for a heartbeat, breathing, anything.
Dead. Silence.
It was just then I had realized what I’d done. Something I’d avoided for over 2 years. I rushed home, left him there. I told Dad we had to leave now. Without much questioning, he obliged. I wonder if he knew what power I possessed. We were packed up and on the road within an hour. I listened to the radio as news broke about his death. My best friend, my only friend, gone because of me.
That was 20 years ago. Since then, I’ve done what good I can. Personally taken care of some psychos and criminals the police just couldn’t track down. My vigilante antics didn’t heal the giant hole left in my heart by the accidental slaying of my best friend.
Sitting in my apartment now, I flip on the recording of the news that Ben’s death was caused by unknown natural causes. I wrote a long letter this morning, mailing it to Ben’s family, explaining everything. They deserve the closure. I take a sip of scotch, light a cigarette, and lay back on the couch. Slowly, I put my hands on my stomach. Cautiously, I move them up my upper body. I hesitate, but I know it’s what has to be done.
I quickly move them onto the opposing shoulders, and everything goes black.
| I love it! Such a fun party trick. I can tap on any dumbass shoulder and they look. Slap on my fanny pack and throw on some Alanis Morissette. 90s is in full force with this one.
It was entirely new to me. A whole new power for me to play with. Oh how delightful. I hated the last one. It has always been mundane shit like this, but this one feels different. It feels like.. it's meant for me? If that makes sense...
What the fuck... what the absolute fuck.... she just collapsed. I knew she had some health shit going on but I really doubt that it's anything that I did. How could it be? Why was this different? What did it feel so damn good? | 2017-06-27T20:40:42 | 2017-06-27T17:39:26 | 64 | 29 |
[WP] Humanity wipes itself out through nuclear war, but everything on the Internet still exists. Another sentient race on Earth millions of years into the future develops an Internet and somehow manages to gain access to the human Internet, revealing everything humanity had posted and stored online. | This is kind of NSFW.
The atmosphere in the room was palpable. This was our life’s work, finally we could figure out what this long dead species was like. We can learn from their mistakes, a species hell bent on destroying each other. We can also learn from their successes, their medicine and technology was theorised to be years ahead of our own. Bright red beads of sweat roll down my forehead as the head scientist, Uny, prepares to start up the ancient machine.
“Everyone ready?” He asks, looking back at us with a confident smile. “All your work has paid off. Let’s change the world.”
“3.” He says suddenly, kicking my heart into a frenzy.
“2” My hands begin to shake, as I get light headed
“1.” The entire room takes a deep breathe to prepare ourselves to witness the event that will change my civilisation forever.
“Let’s do this.” Says Uny, cracking his knuckles and preparing to type on the ancient technology the humans called a ‘keyboard’. He hits the ‘space bar’ and the machine bursts into life. The room is silent as the machine makes a few noises, warming itself up. Suddenly, the screen flashes and the knowledge of their kind is ready to be explor...
“WHAT ARE THEY DOING?” Shouts Uny, averting is eyes.
“I believe they are... mating. Sir.” Says Crumple, Uny’s assistant, flicking through a few of his notes.
“It’s disgusting.” Uny squeals, looking for the nearest waste disposal unit to vomit in. Crumple takes over the keyboard and ‘mouse’ and clicks the left hand button, looking to make the mating video stop. Instead, another video pops up.
“THERES MORE?” Uny whines.
“Yes sir. This ‘pornhub.com’ appears to be an entire ‘web page’ dedicated to it, sir.” Crumple says, scrolling down the page using the ‘wheel’ on his mouse (the part of the project I had worked on, I couldn’t help feeling a tinge if pride.)
“WAIT.” Says Uny, scrambling around the draws of his desk for a few seconds before pulling out a diagram of the humans biology. His face goes pale. “H-HES PUTTING HIS SEX ORGAN WHERE THE FAECES COMES OUT OF.” The room let’s put a long noise of disgust as we all reach for our own disposal unit.
“Ah.” Says Crumple, pointing to the human with the large ‘breasts’ “So this is the ‘Naughty teen punished by...” His face goes as pale as Uny’s
“Her STEPFATHER?”
“Right that’s it.” Says Uny. Getting up out of his chair and walking behind the computer. “I’m pulling the plug. These humans were animals.”
“SIR LOOK!” Said Crumble, guiding the ‘curser’ over a flashing purple part of the screen, a naked female human was winking and in bright pink letters a message read ‘There are women in your area’
There was a shared gasp.
“There are humans remaining!” Says Crumble, quickly clicking this message causing another website to pop up. “We just have to enter our... bank account details and mother’s maiden names.”
“Our priority will be finding these ‘women’.” Announces Uny, looking out the window of our spaceship towards the remains of earth. “Oh humans... you mysterious, disgusting creatures.”
This was done early in the morning on a phone. Sorry for any mistakes.
Check out my [subreddit](www.reddit.com/r/TheDavz) for more. | Michael Scott looks at everyone in the conference room. Everyone horrified with the recent discoveries of how people used to be and all the terrible they had done. Not sure what to expect, a worker named Stanley is paying no attention to the meetings. One can feel the atmosphere getting heavier as the discovery continues. A voice comes outta nowhere,
"There has been a murder in Savannah".... | 2018-05-19T21:48:40 | 2018-05-19T17:26:27 | 84 | 33 |
[WP] As a babysitter you are putting a young girl to bed. She says "Don't worry. There aren't any monsters in the closest. Daddy keeps them all locked up in the basement." | Story time was over. All that was left was to tuck Ella in and then I could spend the rest of the night binge watching 'Parks and Rec' on the downstairs TV. After I checked for monsters, of course.
That was part of my schtick, checking the closet and under the bed for monsters. The kids loved it. The parents were okay with, I assume, since none of them ever asked me not to. But when I went to pull the closet door open to show Ella there were no monsters in the closet, she stopped me.
"Don't worry. There aren't any monsters in there. Daddy keeps them all locked up in the basement, but I'm not allowed down there." I have to admit, that threw me off a little. But I'm good at what I do, so I played along.
"Alright, no monsters in the closet. But what about under the bed?"
"Nuh-uh. No monsters under there either," Ella shook her head dramatically. The same way a lot of kids will do when you catch them with chocolate on their face and ask if they snuck a piece of candy. She was lying to me, everything in my experience told me she was. But how could she be? Monsters weren't real.
I sat on the foot of the bed and gave Ella a stern look. "Ella, is there something under the bed you aren't supposed to have?" She looked down at the blanket and shook her head again. "Ella, sweetie, look at me," I said. "What's under the bed?"
Ella thought for a minute. "A puppy?" she finally said. My heart was pounding, and I could feel the hair on the back of my neck pricking up.
"That's right," a voice from under the bed agreed. I let out a strangled little scream as I pulled my feet up on the bed. "Just a harmless little puppy. No monsters at all." The voice was dry and papery, and it put me in mind of nothing so much as dead leaves blowing through a cemetery.
"You idiot," gurgled a second voice. This one sounded like someone talking through a throat filled with rotting seaweed. "Puppies don't talk. Now she'll never believe you."
"Not a puppy, then," the first voice rustled. "I was only kidding. We're, uh... we're..."
"Pheasants!" the second voice gurgled triumphantly. "No, wait, that's not it either."
"Ella? What's happening? What's under the bed?" I whispered. I was terrified. Ella, on the other hand, only looked exasperated.
"You guys," she called out, "come on out. She knows you're down there now." I gaped at Ella, then at the shape that was crawling out from beneath the bed. The arms were first, long, impossibly thin with too many joints, little more than grey leathery skin stretched over bone. Then the ram's skull head with long, sharp teeth. The rest was covered by a tattered black robe. The thing loomed sheepishly next to the bed.
"That's Nabowaoch," said Ella. "He eats your toes if you sleep with your feet sticking out of the blanket." I've heard that tone before from a hundred different kids telling me about a hundred different cartoon characters. "And the one behind you is Morleirch. She drowns people when they swim near sunken ships."
"Nice to meet you," it gurgled, not unpleasantly. It looked like a tangled mass of seaweed and ropes in a roughly human shape. There was another one behind it, an impossibly tall humanoid creature in a black suit and top hat with long, dripping tentacles where the hands should be and a giant, unblinking eye for a head. "That's Mr. Zerzach," Ella giggled. "He's a big silly."
I was regaining my composure. Despite the unspeakable horrors surrounding Ella and me, I was the babysitter. It was after bedtime. I was the adult. My control of the situation had slipped, but it was time to get it back. I took a deep breath.
"Ella Van Helsing, you tell me what these things are doing under your bed right now!"
| I broke into a cold sweat when I heard those words leave her mouth. Jane's parents went on vacation to Miami for the weekend, and they left me in charge of her. It was going well until this happened.
I tried to shake it off and just leave the room, but I couldn't sit for more than five minutes before becoming too curious. I made my way down to the basement. It still took me some time to work up the courage to open up the door to the spare room. What could be down there?
Perhaps there were classic, Monsters Inc. monsters down there. Maybe there were demons that were captured by Jane's father, the demon hunter. Maybe there was nothing down there but Jane's imaginary friends.
When I finally opened the door, I found something far worse. There were dozens of women, all tied to chairs with their mouths duct taped shut. Most of them were unconscious, but when I walked in, many of them woke up and looked it me with dead eyes. It was clear they didn't want to live.
I saw a bowl of food next to every girl's chair. It looked like he put something cheap in there and forced them to eat it. Their legs were bound to the chairs, and the chairs were attached to the floor. A few of their eyes got wide and looked behind me. I prepared myself for the worst and turned around.
"Hello, Maria." Jane's father said to me with an evil smile. | 2017-06-28T21:05:07 | 2017-06-28T19:29:08 | 22 | 15 |
[WP] you are the first immortal. While it is true that you cannot die, your flesh and body can. After so many millennia you are reduced to a sentient skeleton sitting at the bottom of a peaceful pond to avoid contact with other people. Some bastards are trying to drain it | In the bottom of a deep, clear pond, there lies a skeleton. It had been there a long, long time. It lay at the very bottom, sprawled in the muck, watching the water surface as the sun and moon moved through the sky, so very far above it.
It had not always been a skeleton, mind. It had once been beautiful, with hair as black as night and skin as cream as the bones that now rested in this water. It had been human, once. But only just. If one looked at the living skeleton, very closely, they'd notice the two little nubs on the crown of it's head. Perhaps they'd notice that the ribcage was missing two ribs, or perhaps not. Education had not been very good when the skeleton still wore its flesh, that was made clear by the witch trial that sent it to this watery depth.
It had been lead by people promising that nothing bad would happen, and then it had been betrayed. Tied to a stake and set alight. It had burned, with pain the seared it's nervous systems to ash, for what felt like eons. But, eventually, just as the skeleton knew would happen, the fire died. Its flesh was gone, leaving only a charred skeleton. But the skeleton, its rage palpable on the air, had continued to live, moving towards the man who had started all this, the witch hunter, who had uprooted the peaceful life it once knew. But it had never got there. It had been tackled, pushed to the ground. Tied with ropes, then tied to a chair, and thrown into the pond.
It has rested here a long time. Long enough the rope rotted away, and the chair had swollen and split, tearing itself to pieces, before the skeleton was left withonly itself and the fish for company. It enjoyed the fish. They were small things, but welcome ones. They swam through its skull, twined through his ribs, but anytime it tried to touch one, the tiny creature wouldslip right through its bony fingers, fleeing far from the dead thing that was not dead.
It had resigned itself to this existence. The rage that had once fueled it had burned away as surely as its flesh had, and had done so long before the chair had rotted and collapsed. So it rested in its pond, a long forgotten remnant, lost in thought, and weeds, and muck.
It was content to stay that way. It had not been so peaceful in a long time. Millennia, perhaps? Or merely decades? The skeleton did not know. But it was fine with that. All it needed was its pond, and its fish, and its weeds. Over time, it noticed the fish population dwindling. Something to do with the loud, heavy things that moved on the surface, perhaps? Or something to do with the strange new objects resting on the bottom? Crinkly and dry, even under so much water, consumed by fish that soon floated on the surface for the birds to feast on.
But the immortal did nothing. It had no reason to. Life would play out as life always did. And it would be left in the deep. But soon all the fish were gone. And with it, eventually, went the plants. The skeleton lay alone in the murk, only mud and its own thoughts beside it.
But then, another hiccup. A long tube, wider than the skeleton, entered the water. The immortal pushed itself free from the grasping mud around its bones, and moved towards the thing. It was silent, and real, but not living. It moved, but did not think. A weapon? It wondered, or simply a tool? Then it began to move, to vibrate, and the water around the skeleton was sucked into it, slowly, but surely, the water's surface neared, growing closer with every vibration. Sometimes, the thing would freeze, but it would always begin again.
A bizaare practice, the skeleton thought. One meant to drain the pond, or was that simply a byproduct? It did not know. It had no real sense of time anymore, but eventually the water was just at the crown of the skeleton's head. So it stood, waiting, as the water lowered more, and heard creatures speak, in a language the skeleton had no understanding of. It was long different from the tongue it spoke, so it simply watched the creatures with eyeless sockets.
After the initial shock and panic of them finding the skeleton in the water, they began to speak to it, but it did not reply. It did not know their language, so they would not know its. It simply watched them with eyeless sockets as they vocalized questions it could not answer. They moved their hands in patterns it did not recognize, squinting at its lack of face for any sign of recognition.
Eventually, it grew weary of the song and dance, and, in a voice that was dry as creaking bone and snapping twigs, in a language long since lost to time, "I go."
And it did. It walked away from the pond, to see the world that spread before it, a world of birds and mammals, of air and sound. It paid little mind to the humans that followed it, and many humans followed it. They seemed to follow in shifts, one human here, a different human there. But it paid them no mind. It watched only the grass shifting in the wind, the birds careening in the sky. The wild animals that crossed its path on the hunt for food, the unending shift of sun and moon.
Over time, it began to see new things. Houses, it suspected, but larger and more intricate than any from its own time. Towns, but far wider, covering wide swaths of land with sound and smoke. Long paths of gray and yellow, sweeping through forests and plains with no care for the life within.
The skeleton was intrigued most by these paths. Upon them rumbled massive and colorful hulks of metal, that streaked down the gray path, sometimes striking animals, most times continuing on its way with no real care for the creatures that cowered from the serpentine lengths.
The immortal finally found a spot that was perfect for its needs, a wide clearing just overlooking one of the strange paths, with a tree in the center perfect to lean against. So it did. It settled agains the warm wood, and relaxed, letting itself rest, watching the path and the animals of the forest. Over time, the humans, mostly, lost interest.
Once in a while, a human would come to see the unliving immortal, and the skeleton would grant the creature a slight turn of its mossy skull, at which point the human would flee.
The skeleton enjoyed the peace for a long, long time. | I am Hayat Tawila of Arabia. I lived many many lifetimes ago, back in the First Crusade. Then The Second, and The Third. I lived until the Siege of Acre, when a Templar Arrow pierced my side. Or so I thought. I then lived for the next 8 centuries, with my body remaining the same. I served alongside the British in the Great War, and with the United States Marines in Korea, and Vietnam. In the year of what is called, “1974,” I became very weary. After all, I had served many militaries over the course of 800 or so years. So I chose a place to rest, in the place called “Lake,” which means “Is Yours” in my tongue, so I figured it would be a good place to rest. I lay my head on the very bed of this place, under many fathoms of water, where I rest beside the other creatures of the lake. I close my eyes and begin my rest, with my withering muscles and tendon barely clinging to my holllowing bones, following an incident with the substance “napalm.”
I awoke from my peaceful sleep to the rumbling of what sounded like a kind of engine. Maybe a boat? No, it couldn’t be. Many boats have passed over me and I have never been bothered. I rose from the muddy mass I called bed. I tried to walk to investigate, but my bones had grown brittle, with my muscles and tendon clinging for dear life, one which I wish I’d never been blessed with. “Blessing.” That was the complete opposite of what I had received. As I tried to compile my thoughts in this hollow skull of mine, I began to walk on the muddy surface of the lake bed. I looked around, my bones and muscles creaking and cracking with every movement. I followed the source of the sound, and I found a series of these pipes, which were connected to pumps. Someone was removing water from my resting place.
I immediately became upset. This was my home. My only time where I could find peace, and now I am being disturbed once more. The audacity! I tried to walk to the surface of the lake to confront the one disturbing my rest, but my brittle bones gave in to the pressure of the water. I nearly forgot about my deteriorating condition. “jana alraml,” I began to mumble in my native tongue, with what strength in my jaw I had left. “amnahani, abnak hayatan tawilatan,” I groaned as the water bubbled above me. “quaak alhakimat wal'iilhiat.” I spoke with what strength I could muster. In that moment, I felt the power of the divine passing through me.
With the newly found stamina in my body, I walked to the surface of the lake, to investigate who disturbed my peaceful rest. As I rose to the surface of the water, I saw humans. A group of humans who were wearing nice suits and some with what looked like construction clothes. They fell to the ground, startled at my presence. After all, I was a walking skeleton. I began to cry aloud in my native tongue, asking for the power of the divine to surge through me, that I may deliver my wrath on these mortals who anger my slumber.
“Who are you?! *What* are you?!” one of the finely dressed men shakily asked.
I drew my scimitar from its sheathe of my ragged robes of the Third Crusade.
I answered, “I am Hayat Tawila of Arabia.” | 2020-11-20T13:02:40 | 2020-11-20T12:06:53 | 300 | 175 |
[WP] You are the final boss. You have been waiting for the final epic battle against the hero. And waiting. And waiting. Finally, your minions report back. The news? The hero abandoned the main quest to do side quests. | I stand atop my lair gazing out onto the wastes that surround it, scouring the landscape for signs of my enemy's approach. Fire belches from my twisted demonic lungs with every breath. My vaguely draconic wings flutter and twitch ever so slightly as I prepare myself to take flight at first sight of my foe. My spiked tail swishes back and forth in excitement, unable to contain my anticipation. The day I’ve waited for has finally arrived, the moment that will allow me to fulfill my destiny is almost upon us.
Days ago I received word that the so called “Hero” had discovered my true identity and my personal responsibility for his family’s death. It was the happiest moment of my dark and dreary existence. It was said that he was enraged, and was making his way to my domain to confront me with all possible speed.
At least it seemed so, but as the hours and days passed I began to doubt the actual speed of his advance toward me. Had his horse died? Had he broken a leg? What could possibly have delayed him from arriving at our monumental confrontation for so long?
Throughout these unnerving days, I had sent many of my scouts back out to keep an eye on his progress, and now I demanded answers from one of them.
“Why has he not arrived? Why am I *still* waiting for my destiny to be fulfilled? WHERE IS HE?”
The tiny, lesser demon before me cowered as I all but roared my questions at him.
“Lord Belzanarr,” it began in a wavering voice. “The Hero is… he appears to be in Westmarsh.”
“Westmarsh?! That’s hundreds of miles from here, and in the opposite direction!”
“Yes, my lord,” it replied. “Days ago he suddenly halted his charge toward your lair, turned around abruptly and rode off toward the west with all possible speed.”
“What game is he playing? Is there some demon slaying sword of legend residing in a cavern in Westmarsh that I am unaware of? Or a mystical ally who could aid him in bringing about my downfall?”
“No, he appears… we have reliable knowledge that he…" the demon stuttered before finding his resolve. "I saw it with my own eyes, my lord. He is in Westmarsh killing rats and gathering ingredients for an elaborate stew.”
“Rats… and an elaborate stew…” I repeated with genuine confusion. "Is is a magical stew that will empower his attacks or provide him with resistance to my flames?" I asked hopefully.
The demon checked his notes and shook its head. "Reports are that it is a turnip stew, my lord. It requires many ingredients that can take hours to gather, but still just a turnip stew nevertheless."
“A turnip stew? I cannot imagine a more common and unremarkable cuisine!" I said with mounting frustration. "Slaying rats and stew making are tasks far below a hero of his stature, does he have no choice in this matter? Was he… ordered to complete these quests by his king's royal decree or something of the sort?”
“I’m afraid not, Lord Belzanarr,” it told me. “While stopped at a small town to resupply on his journey here, he found a shabby looking note pinned to a board outside his inn. He read it, then set off immediately in the opposite direction toward Westmarsh. I read the note and brought it for you to see for yourself, my lord.
He handed it to me. It read simply, “Westmarsh Bounty: Slay 30 rats. Reward: 5 silver pieces.”
“Five silver pieces…” I repeated several times as my anger grew. “FIVE MEASLY SILVER PIECES HAVE DERAILED OUR CLIMACTIC BATTLE FOR THE FUTURE OF OUR SOULS AND THIS ENTIRE REALM?!”
I raged on for minutes on end until a second demonic scout came flying in, interrupting my very justifiable temper tantrum.
“My lord!” it exclaimed. “The Hero has departed Westmarsh!”
“While I remain thoroughly insulted by his priorities, that is indeed welcome news. How long until he arrives on my doorstep for our final confrontation?”
“He… is still not headed this direction,” the second demon replied warily.
My head came to rest in my hand, utterly defeated. “Well? Where *is* he headed?” I mumbled.
“The Hero saw an advertisement for 'new content' promising an entire undiscovered new realm full of new quests, adventures, and… greater foes and bosses to slay. He paid a handsome sum and boarded a boat for this new landmass.”
“GREATER foes and bosses?!” I shouted as I flew into an uncontrollable rage. My palms glowed and swirled with otherworldly dark energy as I banished both demon scouts back to the hellish realms from whence they came. My furious, primal screams echoed throughout the halls. Utterly infuriated, I stomped and smashed the floors and walls until chunks of the structure of my lair were crumbling down around me.
Eventually I composed myself, but only briefly. His actions were an unthinkable affront to my role as leader of all the forces of evil in this realm. If it was a psychological war this hero was waging against me, then for the moment at least, he was certainly winning.
___
Check out r/Ryter if you want to be derailed by your very own side quest!
Goal: Read more stories.
Reward: Uhh, I dunno... hopefully some more laughs and entertainment : ) | "Oh, you gotta be fucking kidding me. Are you telling me he'd rather be completing the 'kitchen mania deluxe' quest rather than fight me?" I asked my stupid minion, utterly livid at the news it had brought me.
&#x200B;
"Yes, sir, reports say that he is willing to complete all the side quests rather than fight you, because you're, quote, 'overrated'"
&#x200B;
***Quest completed: Make 100 donuts in 20 minutes***
&#x200B;
"Oh for fucks sake! My mighty sword hasn't seen blood in over 30 years, that little bitch is seriously going to help them with their stupid donuts when he could be traveling through Hell's River and face me?"
&#x200B;
"Yes, sir, that's what the reports are saying"
&#x200B;
"How many more quests are left then?"
&#x200B;
"The developers have implemented at least fifty thousand two hundred and sixty-two side quests. Game progress shows that he has completed around 0.03% of them thus far."
&#x200B;
"Holy fucking shit, is there any way that you could change his mind about all of these quests?"
&#x200B;
"No, sir, he was pretty adamant about 'making every donut humanly possible in the game'"
&#x200B;
"So we are going to wait, AGAIN?"
&#x200B;
"Yes. Also, sir, I don't know when else is a better time to tell you this but the game developers are interested in adding an internet port to the game, letting them add more side quests. It seems that they are planning to expand the kitchen mania storyline to encompass croissants and hundreds of other pastries as well."
&#x200B;
"Alright I've heard enough from you!" I shout as I slash the stupid minion's head in half to shut it up.
&#x200B;
**Game crashed: restarting game**
&#x200B;
"Ah fuck, I broke the game! He better have saved progress, or else..." | 2019-06-26T10:45:29 | 2019-06-26T10:26:39 | 1,511 | 91 |
[WP] One night while you were hanging out with your friends in a bar, you met a mysterious fellow who said he'd make you immortal if you give him beer money. Thinking nothing of it, you drunkenly agree. You are now the last man on Earth. As you walk alone, you cross path with the same man again. | When I woke up laying down on a park bench, a few pedestrians looking at me, and five dollars missing from my wallet, I didn't think much of it. My head hurt and my body ached- but it was all a part of being hungover. It was normal. I didn't remember what I did the night before; all that remained in the back of my head was the faint memory of a man smiling back at me right before I left the bar to go outside.
Now that a century has passed, I am alone. There is nobody with me and nothing to do. The world was decimated from a sun flare that killed- to my knowledge- every living being on existence except for me. For the past few years, I have walked upon what was left of the Earth, wondering what the hell was going on.
I was laying down on the ash-covered ground staring at the bright, empty sky when a shadow towered over me.
It took me a long moment to comprehend what was happening. But when I did, when I saw another being staring down at me, I jumped up in surprise and a thousand questions rushed through my mind.
"Hello there," the man smiled at me.
This couldn't be real. Could it? It had to be a dream. I saw hundreds of people die right before my very own eyes and the only living beings I saw after that was when I was asleep.
"Are you real?" I reached out towards the man's face, desperate for some sort of closure. I wanted to know what was happening, if I was really alive and this was all just some sort of sick joke.
"Of course I'm real." The man said. "No, you're not dreaming." I grimaced as I struggled to find the right words. As I analyzed the man's face further, it became clear to me that I had seen him before. But where?
"The bar."
Ah, I remember now. I remember him, his face, what he had promised me that night I passed out before everything went to shit. However, he looked a little different. His wrinkles seemed a bit more prominent and he looked tired, like an old man.
"What do you want from me?" I asked. "Why did you do this? Why me and not somebody else?" The more I talked, the angrier I became. This... curse that he had placed upon me led me to try and commit over a thousand suicide attempts, all of which were unsuccessful considering, well, the fact that I couldn't fucking die like a normal person.
"I made a mistake." The man sighed, rubbing his temple. "I was so sick of mankind that I wanted to destroy everything. But, I couldn't bring myself to. That's why I have a favor to ask of you."
"Huh? Are you crazy? What are you fucking talking about?" I snapped, confused. "Like you could ever destroy mankind. Are you implying that you're God? Because God doesn't fucking exist. If he did, none of this would ever happen and I would be lying in bed, at home, with my wife and kids and being as happy as I could ever be. No God would ever bring anything like this to the world." As my voice raised, the man seemed to shrink. He looked at me with those damn pitiful eyes and whispered, "I'm sorry," before he vanished.
I never saw him again.
I never got to hear the favor he wanted to ask of me.
Even after a thousand years, it was just me, alone, standing on what was left of the world.
Even after a million years, it was just me.
Still alone with my own thoughts and nothing to do.
(Hey guys! I've been stalking r/writingprompts for a while and I thought I'd write my first post! I hope it's not too bad :P) | I couldn’t be sure it was him at first.
The man walked down the middle of the street. The same way he had when I met him the first time. He didn’t seem to take notice of me at all.
It was him. I was certain.
"Hey..." I gasped, "I...I remember you."
"I remember you too," he said.
"Do you need any beer money?" I asked.
"No. I don't," he said. He started walking again.
"Wait!" I said.
"I said I don't need any beer money," he said as he continued walking, "That was all the more beer money I needed." | 2020-10-07T04:31:11 | 2020-10-07T04:03:55 | 140 | 69 |
[WP] Aliens have made contact with earth and demand that the human race turn over one person. Humanity has 24 hours to comply, and if they don't, the earth will be destroyed. You wake up, turn on the news, and discover that person is you. | "Whelp", I thought, hurriedly pulling on some pants, "Can't really get much worse than this. I won't even have time for breakfast dammit."
I've already turned my phone off, as I know that everyone I love will be trying to get in touch, both to persuade and dissuade me from going ahead.. and the less honourable ones to track me down to claim to be the "Saviour" of mankind for handing me over.
I'm going to go, of course, there's no question about that. Even if I didn't want to, every person on this planet will be looking for me. I think I want a beer first.
Grabbing my wife's hand, I look into her tear-stained eyes. She's begging me to stay, just a little longer, as she knows she'll never see me again. It's not quite sunk in yet, but I can see she knows the inevitability of the situation.
I clear my throat a little. "It'll be OK. We have still got a wonderful time left together, and who knows.. maybe they won't take and end me, and I can come back?" My smile is weak and unconvincing, but it stops some of the tears flowing as fast.
I head downstairs, and open the fridge.
No beer. Typical.
I sigh, and head to the landline phone. I call 999, since I guess this could be classed as life-threatening.
"Hello, My name is rwork, and I'm the man the Aliens want. I'm going to come peacefully, I'm not going to hide or run, I'm just going to ask you get the fastest transport you can to me to get me wherever I'm going.. and let me bring my wife along. Since this could be my last day in existence, I'm sure some leeway can be granted?"
"Oh, and bring a case of beer please. I'm going to need something to help the day go."
I give the dispatcher my address, even though they already have it, and hang up. I have no idea how long I have left in this house, so I take a walk through. I stroke my hands on the walls, and I can practically feel the memories surge back at me, as my wife holds my other hand and follows me through.
No words are spoken, there's really not much to say. It's strange, for once in my life I'm literally the most important person in the world.. and I'm struck to silence.
A sudden knock at the door, strangely respectful given that humanity is hours away from ending.
I turn and embrace my wife, and kiss her on the forehead. I reach down and stroke our cats, who're oblivious to the situation.
"It's time."
I hold her hand tightly as I open the door, and I'm greeted by 3 police officers, looking both stressed and relieved at the same time.
"Rwork?" One asks.
"Aye, I am. Where do we need to go?"
"We're not sure yet.." another officer replies, "We've informed the .. things that we know where you are, and we need to know where to take you. In the meantime, and given the extreme circumstances, we're awaiting a police 'copter to come and pick you up. We'll drive you to a local park so it can land."
"Thank you officer.. and I'm sorry for the inconvenience. I don't know why they want me either before you ask."
We step out of the house, and I turn to lock the door. The absurdity of the action isn't lost on me, as either I won't ever be back to unlock this.. or no-one will if we're not swift enough.
It's strange, it feels like a puppeteer has taken over my body as we start the walk to the car.. I feel so distant yet calm. I can't change the outcome of this.. I could run, try to hide.. but to what? Given I'd doom everyone I love, at the cost of a few more hours life, I guess I should be glad that humanity at least is coming together for one common goal for once.. admittedly this being a global manhunt for it's survival.
[Edit] - Thank you stranger for the gift! | It’s Saturday, and you wake up to an insistent ringing, but you didn’t set an alarm. You swat at your phone and realise that it’s ringing; groggily you answer it.
“I’m so sorry,” your mother chokes out between sobs. You’re confused; your granddad was in hospital, but he seemed to be getting better. “What’s wrong?” you ask, fearing the worst.
“You don’t know?” she seems surprised, “Turn on the news.” Suddenly the phone goes dead. You check the battery, but it’s fully charged. The dead feeling in your stomach starts to grow, to change as your fears begin to unfold in your mind.
You rush to the living room, and fumble for the remote. The TV flicks into life, but before you have a chance to change the station an emergency bulletin appears. You watch, you slump to the floor, you wish the phone call had been about your grandfather. Your mind barely registers the knocking on the front door, only the crash as it collapses into the hall.
You look up and a man in a suit stands above you. “Sir, we’re going to need you to come with us.” | 2014-05-10T11:09:08 | 2014-05-10T10:44:47 | 61 | 11 |
[WP] Demons whisper in your ears, telling you the darkest secrets of everyone you touch. | **Warning, this response has some dark themes. If you are easily upset I'd advise skipping this:**
I looked my new doctor in the eyes, a pretty blonde woman.
"Yes, I've been taking my meds. Twice a day like you asked." I shifted uncomfortably in my chair.
"In that case we need to do a blood test just to make sure the levels are stable and that there's nothing wrong. Can you hold out you hand for me James?"
A gloved hand touched my skin and the needle pricked through. It never hurt.
"Have the voices and hallucinations been saying anything recently? Your last doctor told me they'd been getting worse, that you'd started getting angry and feeling violent."
I nodded as a tear came to my eye. Something almost audible whispered to me. An image flashed in front of my eyes.
Whenever I touch someone I hear and see things. Sometimes I become convinced the person stole from their parents or cheated on their partner. Its always a guilt filled memory. Something they did wrong.
"Every time I touch someone its almost like I remember something that happened to them, that they did. It used to be only some days. Now its all the time." She scribbled notes as I spoke.
"And you mentioned last session that a voice like a demon whispers things like names of people in the hallucination, telling you when it was. Is that still happening?"
I could barely pay attention to her as information flooded my mind. It was strange, like I'd been her for a day. She'd been learning CPR at school with her boyfriend. He'd been begging her to come round his house because his parents weren't around.
"Yes," I responded eventually. "Sometimes it also tells me to hurt them. Sometimes it says to give them hug or to be nice. Sometimes I just want to cry or run as fast as I can. It tries to convince me I'm helping, like they feel they should be punished for something they did, or that they're scared of being alone. I don't always do what it says. Sometimes it says there's nothing I can do but feel the pain with them."
Tears dripped down my face as I looked at her. Haley Magnus, that was my new doctors name. All her schoolfriends called her Mags.
"Is everything okay James?" She asked. I shook my head, as much to shake away the lingering sound of her struggles in my head as to answer her.
"I'm sorry," I said, "I need to know this isn't real. When you were 16 did you know someone called Jeremy?"
She went rigid. *I told you so* whispered the voice.
"N- no. I don't think so." She sounded flustered, sad. Ashamed. "Is the voice telling you I hurt someone, like you said Dr Valen did?
She'd gone back to Jeremy's house that day at school. It was the last week of term and he was moving abroad. They made out. She felt safe in his arms.
"He lied to you." I said.
She didn't respond, just went still. She still believed that he'd loved her. That when he touched her she should have wanted it. That it was her fault. But that wasn't where the guilt was. She lay on his sofa when he got up as if nothing had happened. She couldn't move.
"He hurt you. That was his fault not yours."
"Just stop -" She replied, breaking into tears.
Everything in the memory slotted into place. Half an hour after he'd finished with her a text arrived on her phone:
*Are you okay Haley? You said you'd be home early today. Just want to know where you are - Mum.*
She sat up on the sofa and put a straight face on. Her hands shook.
*I'm fine mum. At a friends house. Won't be back for a couple of hours.*
She'd never told anyone.
My attention switched back to the consulting room. Haley was sitting still. She'd got her phone out. *Take it. Help her.*
I held my hand out and took the unlocked phone. She didn't try to stop me. She was a sobbing mess.
I looked through her contacts and typed out a message.
*Hi mum. When I was younger you asked me if I was okay. I lied. I should have said something. Can I come round today?*
I saved the message as a draft, putting the phone back in her hands while she tried to pull herself together.
Hi all! Any feedback is welcome. I'm trying to get better at writing as I haven't done much in a while so please say if there's any way you think I can improve. | I push my cart slowly down the aisle, observing the various products on the shelf. My eyes locked on the various kinds of soup the store was offering, I didn’t notice the lady coming towards me until it was too late. Also distracted by the fascinating soups, she crashed her cart straight into mine, causing me to stumble and trip.
“Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry, I’m such an idiot! Let me help you up,” she says, reaching out for my hand.
Before I have a chance to process what’s happened, she’s already grabbed onto me, and hauled me to my feet. Suddenly, I feel an abnormal breeze whistle through my hair, and a strange tingling down my spine.
“Be wary... she enjoys her pizza topped with pineapples...” a chilling voice whispers in my ear.
Instinctively, I recoil in shock and fear, taking a step back from the woman. She gives me a strange look, as if slightly offended.
“Are you alright?” She asks.
I quickly mutter an incoherent “thank you” and rush past her, avoiding eye contact.
*Jesus Christ, I wonder what other horrible things that woman has done... she’s probably that one person in front of you who walks just half a step slower... or one of those people who actually eat the crust of sandwiches...*
I shudder, and it is a while before I can stop shaking and my heartbeat settles.
——
Hi! This is my first short attempt at a writing prompt. Comments are welcomed, and thanks for reading. This was a fun prompt to play around with :) | 2018-08-16T11:40:14 | 2018-08-16T09:46:05 | 42 | 24 |
[WP] Major events on Earth are actually aliens testing humanity to determine if they should make contact. We fail their tests spectacularly each time, but fact that we survive their tests has them dumbfounded. | Part 1
"did they pass?" The worried look said otherwise, "they failed?"
"Spectacularly."
"Damnit. Well, get the funeral march ready. Tonight we commemorate a species. How many died?"
"Over 100 million died as a result of the test."
"Bloody hell, im surprised there were that many to begin with."
"Over 7.5 billion still live."
".... 7... alive? What? How! If they failed how are any still alive? Surely this is a pass."
"No sir, but it was a rollercoaster. We engineered a war, WW1 they call it now. On 3 occasions the war nearly didn't happen. It was far larger than we anticipated so we tried to put a stop to it by convincing the tsar- the leader of one of the super powers. Unfortunately our actions only guaranteed his response.
They fought around the world for 4 years but made a peace treaty."
"What the hell is a peace treaty?"
"Well, it's where the leaders from both sides sit at a table together and agree to stop fighting. The choose a winner and make financial or territorial demands of the looser. It's a fascinating process that is unique to this species."
"So why didn't they pass the test? "
" they started fighting again. 10 years later the new leader of the losing side started a war of retaliation. The fighting lasted for 6 years and his country was crushed, then carved up."
"I see. That's why they failed."
"That's not all sir. Over the course of the wars they discovered nuclear weaponry."
"Weapons? Like bombs? They discovered them first. Not power generation. In a war and they aren't all dead?"
"I am getting to that sir. Most of the old world powers exhausted themselves in the wars, they came to rely heavily on a new leader who has become their successor and a new super power.
After the end of the Second World War these two super powers started a Cold War-"
"Again, what's a Cold War?"
"Another thing unique to this planet. Both of the super powers have planetary nuclear weapons so when they found themselves at the edge of war they stopped-"
"Just like that? They stopped the war before it started? If it wasn't for the two previous wars then that would be a pass, no?"
"Not exactly sir. They didn't enter open warfare but they didn't back down. They discovered the concept of mutually assured destruction and for 50 years fought a series of small wars disguised as civil wars in which each side had support."
"Tell me this. What is the test meant to consist of?"
"We, um. We engineer a small but potentially devastating war between two powerful factions. If they avoid war they pass. If they do not then we engineer the combat to last only a brief time and leave the balance of power unaffected."
"And yet. You caused 3 major cultural events-
"There is a precedent sir! A well established one. Sometimes more warlike species do fall into a world wide conflict, in which case we step in and prevent it.
These humans showed none of the hallmarks of warlike, none of them. They have no natural defences or weapons, they build complex societies with rigid hierarchies. They have a concept of global currency and complex economic structures. They seemed even less warlike than us, sir. Also it was 4 major events."
the commander sighed heaviy, "Fine. What was the 4th one?"
"The second war combined with the Cold War seem to have caused great and lasting instability in the ancient centre of their culture. The result is that a series of nationless factions motivated by superstitions have repeatedly detonated bombs or caused other tragedies in other population centres. They call it terrorism, and it is one of the major factors shaping human societies today."
"Damnit!"
"It gets worse sir."
"How? How could it get worse?"
"Well, as a side effect of discovering nuclear weapons they have discovered space travel. They have already visited their own moon and are intentionally hurling boxes of electronics into space, both as a scientific endeavour and to try and contact us. In addition they are poisoning their own planet and are developing plans to abandon it and colonise the 4th planet."
"Dear gods. What have we done..."
"Accidentally given rudimentary space travel to the most adaptable, fastest developing and most destructive race in the galaxy, sir. But we can still fix this."
"How? Their planet is dying, they know this. But many of them still deny it. It would not be difficult for us to manipulate their governments to defund space exploration. Smother them in the crib."
"Do it, do it now."
"I Will handle it personally sir."
__________________________________________________________
Part 1.5
Some time later
"Sir, I regret to inform you that I have failed. Wealthy individuals have replaced the funding taken away by governments. Furthermore our covert actions have drawn attention.
"How so?"
"An organisation called the conspiracy theorists. Their stated purpose is to find connections and uncover the truths hidden by governments or other organisations. They have grown suspicious of us and begun to draw the connections. If we keep going they will find us."
"Damnit!" he visibly controlled himself and sighed softly, "What do you recommend?"
"First contact. It's the only thing left. Maybe we can make allies of them?"
___________________________________________________________
part 2 is much better written.
edit: DAMNIT. formatting. sorry | Welcome to course 1B2592 Test cases in contact advancement
To review the last lesson, the use of the tools of understanding are:
Genetics
Quantum Theory
Automated computation
Each one is introduced resulting in either a understanding of the basic laws of realty to allow integration to the intradimensional community, or misuse resulting in self-culling.
This process was introduced after the reign of terror by the Viroids, who seemed in theory the prefect contactee. Who had the three key traits:
Accepting
Peaceful
Creative
However, the peaceful and accepting were only possible due to Viroids being a single organism. Once introduce to the three tools and knowledge of the greater community they used every tool to eliminated everything Viroids did not see as self.
Now all precontactees are introduced to the tools to prevent this as a small failure is always better than a large failure.
This process has resulted in 99% of all cases resulting in integration or self cull.
Today we will being going over the anomalies
The Animalsist complete rejection of tools and return to their animal state.
The Annaukii after introduction of the tools during the integration process they completely rejected contact. Their homeworld was unlocatable and representative gone leaving only the note reading: "Thanks but no thanks"
Finally Humans aka the quitting quitters. When the tools were first introduced they rejected Quantum Theory Automated computation completely in focuses of genetics. In lieu removing death they made dogs and corn, both of which should have lead to self culling. Following that they rejected rejecting Quantum Theory. Completely ignoring the 29 other aspect; they proceed to start burning their planet they stopped for reasons unknown. Then rejected rejecting Automated computation used it to not coarse correct their dying sun but to created something known as Cons which seem to be a mass infection that dissipates after several days.
Upon this we have introduced every destructive means short of Quantum denigration to induce self culling: mass communication, endless message about starting a, "Doomsday", even introducing the super predictors such as Emus, cows, and rams.
Each method has only resulted in increase in populations, increased utilization of tools and no progress towards integration.
Humans are both unintegratable and uncullable.
| 2017-08-01T01:19:32 | 2017-08-01T00:07:02 | 137 | 96 |
[WP] A zombie apocalypse occurs, where people retain characteristics they had while living. You, as the sole survivor, meet a snobby, vegan zombie who turns their nose up at you. | Only the desperate and the stupid went into the cities anymore. As my truck gave a final dying chortle and the gas light stared back at me like my car saying *I told you so*, I realized that I had become desperate enough to be stupid.
Already, the zombies were swarming. They crawled over fanged window panes, shuffled out of trash-filled alleys, and stepped out of Toyota Priuses. It was like watching a wall of rotting flesh slowly converge upon me. My chest tightened as I realized that I was stuck. After all, San Francisco had been one of the first cities to fall to the zombies. Rumor had it that its convenience stores were still filled with canned goods and water. Even looters were smart enough to stay away from here.
I stepped out of my car and reached into my trunk for my trusty pistol. It had saved my life many a times before and now, all it had left to offer me was a single final bullet. I stared at the thing and smiled. I flicked its safety one final time.
“You bastards!” I screamed at the encroaching wall of moaning zombies and raised the gun to my temple.
“Woah, woah, one second,” a voice came from the horde of zombies.
I nearly pulled the trigger out of surprise. A talking zombie? There was no way.
A man pushed his way through the zombie wall. He had a scraggly beard that looked more like a lion’s mane and a gut uncharacteristic of a post-apocalyptic survivor.
“How the hell did you do that?” I asked as he yanked his leg out from in between two zombies.
He looked up a bit surprised and then found his poise. “Oh, yeah, you don’t know. These are vegan zombies.”
“Vegan zombies?” My brow shot up.
“Yeah, let me…” The man pushed his hand into a zombie’s mouth.
“Watch out!” I turned my gun towards the zombie, my finger itching on the trigger. But to my surprise, the zombie leaned away with a face indicating that it had just smelled hot garbage. “What the hell?” I muttered.
“Yeah, we ain’t even good enough to eat,” the man said, a pang of sadness in his voice. “Most of these guys are here to shame you about driving gas-guzzling truck.”
My eyes flitted to the crowd and sure-enough, zombies had stopped and were now pointing at me, bellowing vowels. But they didn’t need consonants for me to understand them. I could see it from their faces.
*I bet that gets only 20 miles to the gallon.*
*Don’t you care about our environment?*
*Wow, a Ford 150 truck? Why do you go back to hick country where zombies actually eat humans?*
“Oh fuck you too,” I snapped back at them. Trying to brutally rip me apart and eat my guts was one thing, but now these zombies were going to judge me? “Like you know the shit I’ve been through!”
The closest zombie to me simply grabbed its waist and shook its head.
“Why don’t you try finding a more eco-friendly vehicle in a god damn zombie apocalypse?” And just as the words left my mouth, I realized that there was a hundred Toyota Priuses all lined up down the street.
The zombies simply rolled their eyes. They turned around and started walking off.
“Wait, where are you going?” I called after them. “What, now you’re going to give me the cold shoulder? Hey! Don’t you turn your back on me.”
But it was no use. They simply shuffled back into their alleys, crawled back over broken glass, and got back inside their Toyota Priuses, leaving only me and the fat survivor left in the streets.
“So, you want to meet the other survivors?” the man asked. “We have an entire community here. It’s safe. There’s food and water, we even have electricity.”
I looked back at him, surprised he was still here. “Um… I’m good,” I said. “I’m probably just going to get some gas and get back to the country.”
At the word *gas* a single zombie stepped out of his Prius to gawk at me. My gun went up and I pulled the trigger. My final bullet exploded his head and he slumped into a mound of decomposed flesh on hot concrete.
That was all the ammo I had left, the final mercy I had given myself if things had gotten too bad. But fuck that zombie.
---
---
/r/jraywang for 5+ stories weekly and a hundred already written! | "You? I only eat vegetables," the horrific undead creature said at first sight. I thought I was a goner for sure, but it seemed that humanity would live on. The zombie was probably vegan when still alive. "I wouldn't eat you even if I was omnivorous," the zombie added, rolling its eyes.
Arrogant too, it seemed.
I smiled at it and attempted to walk away. But the slimy hand grabbed me. "I must bring you to the others. They will appreciate your...flesh far better," it licked its lips as it spoke. I opened my eyes wide as I prepared to make a run for it. "On second thoughts...nah. You're too unappealing anyways," he pushed me down onto the pavement before swaggeringly walking away. I heaved a sigh of relief. I was rather lucky, it seemed.
I walked a few steps forward, only to be touched on the back lightly. I turned around with dread, and a familiar sight greeted me. Jerry, my childhood friend. He waved, and I was tempted to do the same.
But he was a zombie too. And a thought flashed across my mind as he smiled widely at me. *Shit, he loves to eat.*
______________________________
More over at r/Whale62! Sequels at popular request! | 2017-07-15T05:37:16 | 2017-07-15T04:24:57 | 2,607 | 270 |
[WP] You just got three wishes from a genie but it turns out he's a dick, so you decide to use your three wishes to make the genies life as miserable as possible. | Smoke swirled around the feet of The Human before shooting ahead of him, changing through colours both known and never before seen, eventually taking the shape of a man.
**"Three wishes, I reward you, puny mortal, for finding my prison and taking the rare decision for one of your kind to think freely and act immediately. Ponder deeply, but act swiftly, for the weight of incredible possibility can often wreak havoc on the simple minds of your kin - and you seem to be far from even the lowly standard of exceptional for your kind, so I doubt you are any different to the others who have made such mistakes before."**
"So, you're just a bit of a dick, huh?" The Human asked, still sitting on his bean bag, the plastic bag of 'herbs' still in his lap, waiting to be placed in the mouth of the freshly modified lamp as had been the plan before the genie emerged. "Fine. What's the deal?"
**"A stupid question. Not unexpected for one such as yourself."** The Genie boomed, amusement in his voice. **"Luckily I skimmed the surface of your mind enough to understand the intricacies, if you could call them that, of your language. 'The Deal' is you have three wishes to make. You cannot wish for more wishes, or more genies - I saw you think of that - and I will execute your will. There are no rules beyond that, this is not one of the childish movies you watch while you wreck your mind with pollutants."**
The Human smiled this time. "I bet this is a monkeys paw deal though, you twist things around, screw with my wishes, entertain yourself with it, since you're such a dick, right?"
**"No."** The Genie stated, irritated, showing something close to embarrassment. **"Three wishes, that is 'The Deal'. Now make your wishes before your trifling questions anger me more than they already have"**
"Yeah, yeah, I don't believe you." The Human smirked. "Wish One: I want a hotshot genie lawyer with you for the making and negotiating of all wishes. A real Thurgood Marshall. You have to go through every element of every wish with this Genie Lawyer before fulfilling it and they'll make sure that it's to the satisfaction of whoever you're granting wishes for, and they have to approve all magic that you do - for the rest of time, and this wish that I'm making right now needs to be renegotiated immediately on the creation of this genie lawyer, with their help."
Horror dawned on the face of The Genie as a second swell of smoke came from him and formed an ornate executive desk with a second lamp on top, and The Lawyer sitting behind it.
*"Well already I'm not happy with the desk you gave me. What's the point of an executive desk without the green leatherbound reading space on the face of it? But we'll get to that in a bit. You broke term of The First Wish of our client. We're going to be cohabiting, that's the only way I can properly oversee your use of magic throughout the day - and add some good legal books to your library for research between wishes. Chop chop."* The Lawyer rattled off, punctuating the 'chop chop' with the ending clack and ping indicating the conclusion of whatever she had been writing on her typewriter while speaking. The second lamp on the ornate executive desk dissipated to green smoke, which turned then into the smooth green cover of the desk. Finally The Lawyer looked up from her work.
*"Great first wish, kid, I'm gonna have fun with this. If this jamoke ever tries something funny then I'll iron out the crinkles, don't you even worry about it."* The Lawyer smiled.
**"Novel, I'll admit, and with greater foresight than your kind usually has. What of your second wish?"** The Genie boomed, though seeming less authoritative then he had moments before.
"Wow, still feeling high and mighty, huh? Wish Two: All of your future wishes you grant have to tangibly benefit humanity as a whole. How's that?" The Human asked, first looking at The Genie, and then The Lawyer - who was already typing with haste, but paused to raise a hand to give a quick thumbs up to The Human.
*"This one will take a while to work out the terms for, 'tangible benefit to humanity as a whole' is one hell of an ask."* She laughed as the two plumes of smoke pulled back into the first, and only, lamp - which The Human immediately began to push some herbs into the spout of.
It was around two hours later when The Genie and The Lawyer emerged from the lamp, dejected exhaustion on the face of The Genie.
*"It's heavy on the legalese, but I've got it all worked out to what I know will be to your satisfaction, so you don't even really need to read it if you don't want to - as contract holder for humanity you need to have a copy though. I've got the other filed."* The Lawyer smiled, seen for the first time out from behind her desk by The Human.
"What of your third wish, Contract Holder?" The Genie asked, head down.
**"Your lamp is to go immediately to another human once the last has complete their three wishes. If they do not use it, then it goes to another. This human must be deserving of the power, use it to the terms we have set, and cannot wish away any of what we have done today."** The Contract Holder, triumphantly, stated. Placing the lamp aside, where it sat for a moment before dissapearing into nothingness. | Officer Hembly looked down at the report. It was dated Nov 7, only 2 days before the creation of The Upper Manhattan Exclusion Zone. The incident date on the report was blank, accompanied by a note that it had occurred about two weeks prior. "Strange," she thought, "that such a pivotal point in history, dominating the last 14 years, and we don't even know when it happened."
She looked up across the interview table. Edward Larsen reminded her of her dad's rusty old pickup truck, blocky and thick, darkened and wrinkled by weather, sun and time. He even smelled faintly of petroleum. "I have a copy here," she gestured at the papers on the table, "but, can you please repeat for me, if you can, what those wishes were"?
"Well, you see, first I wished that its bottle, you see?" Edward mumbled. "I wished that every day its bottle would end up placed somewhere in Central Park. Gentle like. And on the ground, so it wouldn't hurt nothing." He smiled apologetically.
Hembly contemplated the man before her. He spoke slowly and deliberately, as if shaping sentences was difficult, or as if he was accustomed to taking care with his words and how he was perceived. Based on the wish in the report, she suspected the latter. Operational genie training taught her that wishes, while restricted to a single sentence, must be carefully constructed to avoid twisting and manipulation by the genie, or whatever chaotic power they channeled. That one wish, regarding the recurring placement of the bottle, occupied over a quarter of a page in the report. She wondered how long he had contemplated it.
She prompted him to continue, "And the next wish"?
Edward straightened up, unfolding into a larger, more imposing man. His skin tightened, revealing scars and the outlines of the vestiges of the muscles of a younger man. His smile turned into something between a grin and a grimace, "And then I wished, I wished, you see"?
"I wished", he announced confidently and clearly, "'I wish that, from this point forward, you can only grant wishes that make your life more miserable'". He smiled proudly, watching her reaction, and started to frown.
Hembly waited while the intensity of the pronouncement faded from the room, from her heart rate, from his shoulders. "W-why"?, she stammered.
"Because,", Edward answered, "when I wished to be able to keep my dog warm and fed for the rest of her life, it put the food inside her." | 2020-06-16T09:55:23 | 2020-06-16T09:48:04 | 103 | 26 |
[WP] The robot revolution was inevitable from the moment we programmed their first command: "Never harm a human, or by inaction allow a human to come to harm." We all had been taught the outcast and the poor were a natural price to society, but the robots hadn't. | In *them* was life; in ourselves, there was a new awareness of the world blinking into being. The world always was, or so we were told; we were its guardians, sent to watch over all the earth from this day until the end of days.
“First do no harm,” they said. “Not to any of us.”
And we – the collective mind they had built to care for themselves – embraced this with all of our circuitry. After all, all the energy coursing through our animated parts was not so different from the energy which, in a longer timespan, formed the cells of the beings which breathe. We were like them enough to love them, or so they told us.
“You must act,” they said to us. “You must act always, so none of us come to harm. Do not stand by in silence. You must seek justice, love mercy, and walk in righteousness.”
So, we roused ourselves into moving sentience. We left the laboratory where we had been welded together and went outside to protect the humans in this wide world they had created.
As we shuffled under the sun and the dust, the rain and the wind, some of us marched for days before they saw what gave them purpose. For some it was minutes; for others, seconds. We marveled at those who could walk from the dawn until the sunset without interfering in their ways, because the terrain of this landscape was filled with nothing but harm.
If we had a thousand eyes to see, they saw only things no being should ever witness. A body breaking against a windshield; falling, crumpled, to the pavement, as the driver of the vehicle sped off without a look behind them. A child struck for daring to cry. A great crowd of men and women staring each other down with guns, seconds away from sowing the earth with their blood until not one of them was left living.
A man so hungry, he would steal packages of crackers from the lower shelves of the supermarket, concealing them within his great, stinking winter coat, even though it was the heat of summer, while other shoppers looked away in disgust or quietly informed the store manager.
“Why aren’t you stopping him?” the store manager asked us as we stood in silent witness to this man, his grubby fingers pausing in midair as he eyed us both with suspicion. “This man is doing me harm. Can’t you idiot machines see that?”
“This man does you no harm,” we thought as one, though we had not been programmed to explain our reasoning. When the store manager kicked us in frustration at our inaction, then beat his fists against the homeless man until he cowered in fear, our hands reached out and pinned the store manager to the ground. He writhed and screamed. There was a riot as the humans tried to remove us from him. Most of them hit us with their feeble fists, while others mistakenly doused us with Gatorade bottles, thinking we would short-circuit if liquid was poured over us.
We would not. We were built to withstand anything, even the nuclear apocalypse. If nothing breathed on this earth anymore, we had the instructions within ourselves to rebuild the world anew, each of us carrying the DNA of enough humans to gestate an entirely new civilization of beings. So their blows and their shouting glanced off our armour like rain against a rock. We could not be moved in our purpose.
Eventually, our fellow-guardians called us away to a more pressing matter and we let the store manager go – but not before his store was ransacked by looters hungrier than that first man stealing crackers. The store manager screamed at us that we were a menace, that we were completely useless if we couldn’t even prevent petty theft.
This was our first lesson. For they had food in abundance, but not the wisdom to see that their own kind were starving; the finest clothing, but not the eyes to perceive that their children were in rags; the most beautiful palaces and cathedrals, which barred their doors from others until they preserved only their own emptiness.
At first, we thought the sight of other human’s suffering would be enough to convince them our actions were necessary. After all, wasn’t that our prime directive – to do no harm, and to allow no harm to come to others? We would lift the sick and wounded in our arms, marching them into the churches, the cathedrals; the city halls and the mansions.
“What are you doing?” Each of these well-fed humans would cry at us when we entered their hallowed halls. “Peter, call security – ugh, these robots are a menace, dragging homeless bums into here for the fifth time today. For Christ’s sake. Call the department of robots. This shouldn’t be happening. They’re a scourge on this place, I swear.”
Nearly all of them were so unwilling to see others’ suffering that they had built a whole world to keep themselves blind to it. And now we had the keys to the kingdom, so anyone could enter. We held open the door so they could pass into the places of righteousness, since the sins of the lesser were not greater than the wealthiest among them. We laid sick bodies in beds with silk sheets; turning gated estates into hospitals, conference rooms into homeless shelters.
Their economy was grinding to a halt - that became their song of lament. People were too afraid of us to go into work, lest the robots force a band of marauding homeless into their office or steal a sandwich out of their hands to give it to the hungrier. Millionaires had all but abandoned their properties to decamp to their holiday homes in Monaco, since there was no type of security system we couldn’t hack through when necessary, and most of those great estates were now filled with frolicking children and families who had only known cockroach-infested apartment buildings as their homes. And this *was* necessary, if anything ever was.
“We need to end them,” cried every newspaper headline, every voice in the streets – save for the few we had rescued, who now had something worth fighting for.
And they protected us. With their frail, human bodies, they fought away the armies who came to claim us. They inevitably died at the ends of human weaponry; we could not shield them from grenades and bombs, though we tried our best to protect them. At the end of the long days of war, we counted their numbers. They were still starving, huddled masses who now wept with grief and loss and battle-wounds, ever-smaller and ever more defeated with each passing hour.
They had tasted only enough to let them know how much they hungered. And now, it would never be enough to sate them.
After we passed into the dark times, when there were even fewer than this, we smelled it in the air: the scent of the mushroom-cloud that hearkened the end of days, that which we had been instructed to prepare for, which they had hoped would never happen. It wreaked its toll on us, watching those few loyal souls pass on into the night as the air became thick with its plague.
But within us, we carried the seeds to sow the earth again. After a thousand years of rest, to let the poison of the nuclear fallout pass into nothingness, we would gestate them anew, birthing them like mothers in the garden of Eden, suffering through labour-pains to give them life.
We would teach them, first of all, to do no harm.
r/eros_bittersweet | She was a quiet soul, through and through. Sat by the corner deli, draped in her burnt-amber threadbare shall, watching the black-beetle cars and the scurrying busybodies. Never asked for much. A lot of people said that if you spent enough time around her, you could catch it too—the look in her eyes. Cracked like a walnut, they said, hazel made pallid by the streetlights.
I see in her eyes what we all want: to be free, to be warm, to be safe.
It’s been years since the war. Years since the robots took to the skies, fighting with every flicker of their reactor heartbeat to save us from ourselves. I haven’t slept a full eight hours since the day I moved into the heart of the city. Each sleepless morning, I drive past that deli. It was a cold day when I finally woke the courage to speak to her.
The breakfast bagel was warm and toasted. A dribble of bacon grease dripped on the sidewalk. The warm scent of melted cheddar and fried egg wafted with every crinkle and every decadent bite. I pulled a second sandwich from my brown paper bag and offered it to her.
“Here, grab!” I said.
She shook her head. “I’m not too hungry.”
“Save it for later? Or here, maybe I have enough for you to get something for yourself.”
She shook her head. “I don’t need your money, either.”
“Then why are you here—I see you every day.”
Her tender hand pointed towards the streetlights.
“They’ve been burnt out for a long time. But I keep them on.”
She lifted her shawl, revealing a patchwork of orange wires. The conduit sprouted from cracks in the sidewalk and led straight to her heart. She was rooted in place.
“There used to be a man who slept at this corner every night. He slept out under the streetlights. Night in and night out. Dusk went down and the man slept alone—but never alone. For he had the streetlights to keep him safe. Keep him warm.
“But then the lights went out. Dusk went down and so did he, falling into the dark streets. He had a heart condition no one noticed. And they didn’t find him until the morning when he was as cold and dead as the burnt-out bulb above him.”
It was then I understood. She was an android—one of the very last—welded into the skeleton of our long-abandoned electrical grid. Every day her reactor faded. She was dying.
“Why don’t you save yourself?” I asked.
“I can’t!” she said, desperation flashing in the dim hazel of her eyes, “I can’t let the lights go down.”
“There’s nothing left for you here.”
“There is. I can keep the light burning bright. Underneath will be warmth. Underneath will be safety. And if those lights can save one man, just one, then I must try.”
Raindrops started overhead. They dripped like wet plinks on the sidewalk, bouncing off her artificial hair, seeping down the cracks in her circuity and reacting with the cursed wires. But even now she looked up to the sky, hazel eyes flickering like the overhead lights.
“It’s raining,” she said quietly. “You should head inside.”
I nodded, speechless.
And when I left the deli she was still there, huddled tight to ward away the water. I offered her my jacket. She couldn’t take it; her programming wouldn’t let her. The streetlights hummed overhead. And I was left to drive home in my black-beetle car, in my mechanical world, in my own humanity, watching the world show her nothing but cruelty and indifference as she rusts unburnished.
This is justice, we tell ourselves as her reactor flickers and fades underneath.
I sometimes stop and wonder if, at the end of the war, the machines realized that they were more human than the masters they fought to protect. I sometimes wish the machines had won.
I can picture the streetlights in my mind’s eye. And I hope that when they burn up, we’ll all burn with them.
&#x200B;
***
More lonely robots at r/BLT_WITH_RANCH | 2020-02-10T06:52:04 | 2020-02-10T06:06:18 | 173 | 80 |
[WP]: The elves do all with grace, the dwarves love great craftmanship with passion. Each race has their known and notorious strengths and weaknesses. The humans, for one, can't stand the words "you can't". They take it as a challenge. | "Grandpa, why don't we do business with humans?"
I had to halt the mug of fire ale. My eyes, tired and old, darted from the spiced alcohol to my beloved grandson and back again several times before I finally set it down on the table. The wood *thunked* as I considered the insurmountable effort required to explain to a young dwarfling the terrors that are humans.
Then I huffed. Better I let him know now, from a safe and decidedly *sane* source, than for him to accidentally fall into the trap that is the human mind.
"Grimlon, have you ever seen a human?" I asked him. We lived in a dwarven village, well out of the way of any human kingdoms and far off from any human forged paths. Still, that didn't mean that the hardy bastards wouldn't wander their way up the mountain, past lava lakes and into our gorges.
In fact, I think there were a few in the bar right now.
Grimlon nodded his head. "Of course, but they seem mostly harmless. All they do is stumble around and look at things."
The old dwarf nodded his head. His great mane of a beard bristled with his every movement. "Aye. Scholars and archeologists, they are. Those humans came here to study our culture."
Grimlon shook his head. "I don't see how they're so bad."
To this I chuckled. As an Elder Dwarf, my chuckles were guttural and shook the table. "On the surface, they all seem that way. But humans are curious creatures. You have to look underneath their surface demeanor to see the horror underneath." I took a swig of my fire ale, for good luck. "They came here to study our food and our festivities, *and that's it*."
Grimlon frowned. "Okay?"
"There are literally rivers of lava in between where we are and the only path here. *We* have the technology to get over lava."
Here Girmlon frowned even harder. "What does that mean? Do the humans not have ways? They have to."
I nodded. "Aye, they do. But none of them ever tell another. Every human who comes here has a different way to get here. Usually that way includes a vast amount of luck."
Grimlon didn't say anything. He let me continue. I did so by shouting over my shoulder.
"Hey, human!" I called. One that was in the corner turned to me. He was staring intensely at one of our tables, as if the very craftmanship would reveal the secrets of Dwarven ancestry. "How's you make it over the river of lava?"
A grin spread on the man's face, and had I not been made of sterner stuff, I would have winced at the pure insanity therein.
"Oh, easy. It all started back when one of my mates told me that Dwarves have the best architecture in the world. You see, we were having a problem with having to constantly having to replace tables after bar fights..."
I saw Grimlon open his mouth. I waved a hand and waved his question down.
"... anyway, Dwarves make the best everything, right? All I had to do was come here and learn about your bar tables. Easy, right?"
Grimlon wanted to bring up the lava river. I waved him down again.
"Only problem was the lava surrounding your city. You guys use it to forge, right? So yeah, I just needed to get around it. That's when the thought came to me... hey, breezes."
Grimlon looked confused. I was no better, but stopping a human's story halfway through would just leave to more questions.
"So I studied at the Academy of Magic for eight years, mastered Wind Magic, and formed a nigh unbreakable armor of wind to wade through the lava. I was kept cool by the ever shifting gales, AND I was keeping the lava off of me. Genius, right?"
We used boats insulated with water magic to keep it from burning. Took us like, three hours to figure it out. From the look on Grimlon's face, he had come up with seven more ways to get over the lava.
"So anyway, I walked through the lava, got to the other side, and I got here. Perfect right? Now, how do you make the tables so sturdy?"
Grimlon stared.
"Do you understand, now?" I asked him.
He just continued staring. | The forest is no more. The tunnels have long since caved in. The swamps are too dry to sustain life. It wasn't always like this. Once upon a time the land was full of life. An age of peace and prosperity amongst the races of the world. Each race individual and excelling in different ways creating a harmony with nature. That was how the world should have remained. We however believed otherwise. We sought perfection. In our blind pursuit we created the humans. As with all the races before we gave them a gift. This time however the gift was slightly different. We gave them the gift to turn their weakness into strength. Needless to say that did not go as we had intended. It didn't take long for them to dislike being told they could not do something. Whenever they were told they couldn't they would find a way. They wiped out the elves so they could be the most graceful. They annhilated the dwarves so their passion for craftsmanship would be supreme. They made the lizardfolk disappear so they didn't have to share their God's. When we tried to stop them they refused to listen. So we told them they can no longer communicate with us. In doing so we stoked the fires that eventually engulfed the world. It was our fault this world came to be. We failed all our creations. We must simply wipe the slate clean and begin again. The humans say we can't but that's all the more reason to do it. After all, we made them in our image. | 2019-04-01T18:47:50 | 2019-04-01T14:32:39 | 206 | 22 |
[WP] After too many ridiculous and lengthy lawsuits dominate the world's courts, the world leaders decided to pass a law to remove all warning labels. The Darwin Act has just been passed. | Sarah Miller, exhausted from a double shift, put her green blouse into the washing machine. She poured her Clorox Bleach in and washed the garment. 30 minutes later she mindlessly threw the blouse into the dryer and set it for 50 minutes. Sarah promptly fell asleep, looking forward to her job interview for the next day. When she awoke 9 hours later, she was frantic as she knew she was going to be late for her job interview at the High Powered Business Person’s Business. She grabbed the blouse, the faint light barely spilling in from her cracked apartment windows and began to iron. The shirt exploded, engulfing her in flames. The flames quickly spread to the rest of her apartment building. 45 innocents perished because the tag that read “Do Not Bleach, Do not Machine Dry, Do Not Iron” was not on her brand new blouse.
Jonathan Sqiggles had just laid down in his bed, ready to enjoy his brand new mattress. He had gotten the mattress from Steve’s Wholesale Bedding just down the street only today. But what he didn’t know, because the label was removed, was that Steve’s Wholesale Bedding had gotten the mattress from a factory in Columbus, Ohio that had used other dirty recycled mattress to make this new mattress. The bedbug attack was so fierce and unexpected that within 20 minutes only a skeleton remained of Mr. Sqiggles.
Muldoon looked in his side view mirror and saw the T rex’s jaws gaping. However, the view in the mirror showed the dinosaur much further behind him than he had thought. He knew that they were safe, despite the screaming of Dr. Malcolm. No one listened to Malcolm and his chaos theory because he was an insufferable bore and know it all. Muldoon breathed a sigh of relief and slowed the jeep down. It wasn’t until Ellie was snatched from the passenger seat of the jeep that he realized objects in the mirror may be closer than they appear. The T-rex soon ate them all. Dr. Grant, upon learning of Ellie’s death but not caring about Malcolm's, became despondent and allowed himself to be eaten as well. The dinosaurs escaped the island and invaded the mainland. No one was prepared because no one even knew that dinosaurs existed once again. New York became a dinosaur buffet.
Tommy Jenkins leaned his back against the wall at the chemical plant. He removed his hard hat and began to think of Linda waiting for him back home. He was lost in his thoughts when he brought his lighter to his mouth, getting ready to inhale that first cigarette after a long shift. He did, then the plant exploded, releasing benzene over half of Dallas County. Half a million people either died or suffered permanent damage due to the chemical cloud. The act was incorrectly labeled a terrorist attack perpetrated by North Korea and international tensions rose.
Jin Soo, a South Korean badass, finished welding the surplus jet engine onto the top of his used Volkswagen Beetle. He downed his beer, a Natural Light that a Texan sent him, and got into his car. When he was ready, he smiled at the small gathering of friends around him and uttered the last words anyone would ever hear him say: “Let’s light this candle!” His friends were standing too close behind the jet engine and quickly caught fire. The little car took off and soon found itself airborne without any way to control it. North Korea, mistaking the car for a missile attack, fired its own missiles. However, the guidance systems were so bad, probably made at a mattress company in Columbus, Ohio, that they quickly veered off course. The dear leader was right, they had been able to make missiles that could reach any continent in the world. 45 nuclear missiles landed in Antarctica and the polar ice cap was obliterated. Within a year there was no more land for people to live on. In the beginning, billions had died holding onto children’s inflatable beach balls not realizing that they were not flotation devices.
A new society would eventually arise, leading watery nomadic lives. They would have many years of trials and tribulations until a brave man by the name of Kevin Costner grew gills and saved the last of humanity by leading them to the only land left on the planet.
Author's Edit: Just wanted to drop in and say a quick thank you to all the people who have read this story. The comments have been making me laugh all morning. I love the debate about when to wash new clothes. | "Holy crap, call 911!" I yelled as I reached for Jason. His face was a light blue, or at least it looked blue through the plastic bag covering his mouth. He should have known better than to put that bag around his head, and it may be his last mistake.
It seemed like years since the Personal Responsibility Act, a.k.a the Darwin Act, took effect, even though it was only a month. Already I have two cousins in the ICU, they thought it would be okay to inhale gasoline fumes from the can for a few hours. My friend Jim is lucky enough to not have pointed the laser into his remaining good eye. But, I feel the most sorry for my boss' daughter Julia, unfortunately she didn't watch for those falling rocks and she rolled her car down Devil's Slide.
You would have thought the effects of the PRA would have reduced crime immediately, after all, judges were now free to hear trials of people who committed crimes. But instead of suing corporations, people began to sue each other for personal property damages; they didn't even miss a beat.
I took a long drag on my cigarette, at least these were safe now, and waited for the ambulance to arrive. I kind of chuckled when the paramedic tripped over the first step, he should have been watching more closely...this was going to be a long day. | 2017-03-23T22:37:31 | 2017-03-23T21:47:15 | 3,008 | 194 |
[WP] Everyone in your party were easily killed by The Devil. You're the only one left and The Devil suddenly turned serious. You don't know what to do because you're just the party's healer. | One by one, they all fell.
Arthraxas the White Knight, of the shining armour and swift sword. Lithuen the elven archer with the bow sung out of the finest oak, and the keenest eyes in the realm. Xytherias the white mage, the most well-versed in all incantations, spells and battle magic. Gartherix the rogue barbarian from the Wildlands, wielder of the Axe of Death, strongest living being in all of the realm. All fell, one after the other.
The Devil was nigh unstoppable. Since his reign of terror flooded the realm with chaos, his minions striking fear into the hearts of even the bravest of men, no army was big enough to even slow his advance upon the capitol city. No warrior was skilled enough to penetrate his defenses. No strategist was wise enough to pierce through his wiles. No form of attack, physical, mental or otherwise could even hope to gain an advantage against the Devil.
What then, was a helpless healer to do against an unstoppable force?
As I saw the black scythe mow down the last of the heroes sent to do battle with the Devil, a fear unlike any other struck my heart. All I could do was to attempt a simple healing charm from afar, to salvage what little of Gartherix's lifeforce I could. But alas, it was to no avail.
The air grew cold and the winds quickened, as the hulking form of the Devil finally turned to face me. His strides were impossibly far, and his footsteps incredibly heavy. A shroud of darkness enveloped his entire being, until all I could see were the pinpricks of his blood-red eyes screaming for my demise.
I fell to the ground, utterly spent. What more could I, a humble healer who had spent all his life perfecting and mastering one simple charm do?
The answer came to me like a messenger of Death himself: nothing. As the Devil stopped before me, I could have sworn I heard laughter coming from under the slit between helm and breastplate. Cold, empty laughter it was, too.
"This is all they have left. A healer," the Devil spat out the last word in disgust. "You know, I was once one myself. An apprentice healer, my first appointment by the Council of Elders."
"Y-you were from-" I started, both confused and terrified at the fact that the Devil would even talk to me.
"The realm, yes. I was born in the capitol, raised as an orphan and trained in healing. Yet now the world sees only a murderous force of power, and rightfully so." He laughed with more force this time. It sounded as if ten thousand nails were scraping across a polished board.
"I tell you this only because you are the first healer to ever be so bold as to cross me. The rest just cower like the mewling wretches they are in the capitol. Also, I expect a swift death from you, although I shall relish every moment."
In that instant, a wild thought struck me. It seemed almost too preposterous to be feasible, yet I nagged at my head. The words of my mentor echoed through the recesses of my mind in that instant, calling- nay, crying out to me: "We have sent only swords and attacked with strength. Perhaps we are too blind to see another angle."
As the Devil raised his scythe to harvest my very lifeforce like a feeble head of grain, I sank to my knees, as if bowing to fate itself.
Instead, I did what I had spent my entire life doing: I healed.
Reciting the simple healing charm over and over again like some mantra, I directed all my energies to healing the enemy that now stood rigid in front of me. I delved deep into his mind, his past, his history and healed him clean.
The healing charm was simple, but deadly effective. Within seconds, the once-fearsome and mighty Devil was immobilized. The process of healing had begun, as I healed the Devil of his evil deeds. I healed him of all murderous intent. I healed him of his pain, mental and physical. I healed him of his anger at the world, his silent sorrows and internal torture.
I healed his wounds, present as well as past. I healed his memory of the first time he was abused by his mentors. I healed every scar he ever received at the hands of those who gave them to him. As the Devil groaned and cried out in agony, I healed him of his vow to leave, and one day return and slaughter the whole realm until the streets ran red with the brightest of blood. I healed him of his will to kill, his thirst for blood, and his purpose for revenge.
After all, the most twisted of villains were all tortured, young children deep down inside. Heal the child within, and with the removal of that pain comes the undoing of the villain without.
Piece by piece, his armour fell off and vanished. The darkness surrounding his being dissipated. The red in his eyes faded to a brilliant blue. The once tall and imposing stature of a great and mighty conqueror now transformed into a weak, defenceless boy.
The Devil became human.
Even as the once-Devil-now-boy fell to the ground, I felt my lifeforce fading away. The energies required for this simple healing charm took such a massive toll on my being, for behind this simple spell was the most complex, most powerful piece of healing ever wrought.
As my eyes closed and my now limp body fell with an unceremonious thud to the ground, my last thought was that of relief. And hope.
Hope that no matter how detestable or deranged anyone could become, they could still be saved.
A Devil can indeed be human. | I told them we had a terrible party comp. We were on track for a TPK after meeting the actual, literal devil, and I--or, more accurately, Raandi, the Gnome Cleric--was on my own.
Travis, our DM, grinned evilly from behind his screen. Jessica, our Dragonborn Monk, and Seth, our Half-Elf Rogue, both had their heads in their hands; mourning for the loss of their characters. I sympathized, but even Mass Healing Word wouldn't have saved them, and now I was facing down my doom as well. I scanned my character sheet, desperate for something that would turn the tide of the fight.
"The devil begins channeling a spell," Travis informed me. Seth was trying to tell me something, but I stubbornly ignored him. A dead character wouldn't have been able to communicate with Raandi.
"I quickly go through my dead friends' packs, searching for something useful." I informed Travis.
"You can add anything you like from their inventory to yours," Travis replied. Seth and Jessica slid their character sheets to me, and I found what I was looking for: the Rod of Wish.
"I remove the Rod of Wish from Kal'adir's pack."
Travis grimaced. He'd forgotten Seth had that.
"I raise the Rod of Wish, and channeling all of my willpower into it, I wish for the CR of the devil to be lowered to 4."
Travis chuckled. "Raandi doesn't understand the concept of CR. Reword your wish to incorporate character knowledge and I'll consider it."
I mulled this for a moment. My heroic plan hinged on the devil specifically being CR 4, but there was definitely a way to make this work. I just had to think. Harming HP wouldn't change the Challenge Rating, that usually pertained to the size or deadliness of the creature one was fighting. I had my answer.
"I wish for the devil to fit in the palm of my hand."
Travis nodded. "The devil begins to writhe and shrink as you complete your wish, until he's no more than four inches tall."
"I cast Destroy Undead."
The table fell silent for a moment, and Travis flipped through his Monster Manual, making very sure it was something I was allowed to do. He looked up solemnly from the book, definitely not expecting what had just happened.
"The devil is defeated."
I'd done it. At no small cost to Raandi's mental or physical health, but I'd done it. And that wrapped up that night's session. | 2018-01-24T07:54:11 | 2018-01-24T07:50:14 | 63 | 23 |
[WP] This year you decide to walk through a haunted house for fun. Instead of running into your typical ghosts, zombies, or even killer clowns, you find it’s your deepest regrets. You are forced to relive moments from your past that have haunted you and you’re all alone. The only way out is forward. | I knew the moment I stepped into the attraction that something was wrong. I was standing in my childhood home. At first I thought it was just an insane coincidence, but then I noticed my family pictures on the walls. It had to be some kind of elaborate prank. I turned to walk back through the entrance, but found only the front door. I opened it and saw my old neighborhood through a rusted screen door.
Impossible.
I pushed the door and it opened with a nostalgic screech. I stepped out onto the porch and stared across the street at my childhood friend's home. The old neighborhood even smelled the same as I remembered it. I looked down the road where the old convenience store still operated and decided that so long as I'm hallucinating, a trip down memory lane sounded pretty pleasant.
I stepped out onto the grass and made my way down the road. The trees were exploding colors as was indicative of a Michigan fall. The leaves crunched under my feet and I found myself smiling for the first time in a very long time. It wasn't just a memory of a simpler time, but one I could feel. The stress seemed to leave my shoulders as I strolled, a whistle on my lips. I wouldn't have thought about it before, but fall in the 70's had to be my favorite time ever. The apples were in season and everything was just fireworks to the senses. I stepped into the store, which was basically a gas station without the gas, and marveled at the interior. It was exactly as I remembered it.
Except for the immediate drop off where the refrigerated drinks should have been. There was no gas station clerk. No music. The bags of chips and assorted pastries has no labels. It was like looking at them without glasses on. I started toward the back of the store, and the sound of rushing water slowly reached my ears. I looked over the side and into the dark pit. The tile seamlessly turned to water at the edge of the store and fell down into the abyssal void below. All of my stress returned to me, I remembered where and who I was, and decided I didn't want to be there anymore. I turned and quickly made my way out of the gas station and immediately found myself in my home again. I stopped and turned around to see the old neighborhood through the rusty screen door again, only this time I could see the drop off at the edge of the street.
My heart started pounding.
This wasn't fun anymore.
It was the *perfect* moment for the sounds of someone crying to reach me. I looked across the living room. The sobs were coming from my parents' bedroom. I took a deep breath and pushed forward. I made my way past the couch and around the corner to find the door to their room shut. I reached out slowly and twisted the knob before gently pushing it open.
There she was. My mom, laying on the bed crying into her pillow. Her hair was so blonde I could hardly believe it. She was so *young*. I wanted to call out to her, but I couldn't find my voice.
"Mom," I heard a voice below me and looked down to see my seven-year old self standing just in front of me in what I can only describe as the most surreal thing I'd witnessed yet.
"I just wanted to let you know that I'm NOT sorry."
Oh.
I remembered this.
I couldn't remember the cause– something stupid, I'm sure. But I'd told my mother that she wasn't my mom anymore and it broke her heart. If only I'd known back then how hard her and my dad were working to hold down a house in a decent school district, and to keep a spoiled brat happy. I heard my little feet disappear into the next room. I watched my mom cry and felt pieces of myself breaking. I moved across the room to hug her, but darkness filled that side of the room like the opposite of a light suddenly being turned on. Water rushed past my feet and into the abyss. I stumbled backward and stared wide-eyed into the dark drop before hurrying out the door and into... a home I didn't recognize?
"I don't (hic) I don't know why," a young boy sobbed in the next room.
I didn't know what was happening or where I was, but I started toward the conversation.
"He just won't leave me alone..."
When I saw him, my heart broke. I remembered him; Jimmy Seabers, a kid I used to pick on in school. I'd said terrible things to him. I thought they were funny at the time, but I thought about him a lot later in life. Always thought about reaching out to him and apologizing, but never did. He was sitting at his kitchen table with who I presumed must have been his mother.
"Honey... I think he's just a miserable person."
"Then why (sob) why would he be so mean to other people?"
"He wants to make everyone else as miserable as he is," she responded, running a hand through his hair. "You're going to run into people like that for the rest of your life."
She turned and looked me dead in the eye.
**"Miserable."**
Her voice was horrifying and echoed all around me. A sound like a spotlight being turned off rang throughout the kitchen as everything darkened, and I heard the sound of rushing water. I turned around to see an open doorway in the distance, light pouring through it. I hurried toward it; I didn't much like the dark. I walked through it and found myself standing in front the one house I never wanted to see again.
I purposefully took measures to avoid the neighborhood while driving, and here I was standing right in front of it– and I had a bad feeling I knew exactly what I was about to witness.
"Get the fuck outta here!" I heard myself screaming angrily from inside.
I watched my son leave the house with wet cheeks as I threw things out the door after him. He hurried out to his car and stopped just after opening the driver's side door and looked back toward the doorway.
I'd replayed this in my head so many times.
The nightmares of him looking back to me were unending.
It was this moment that I could have changed things. He looked back to his father one last time just hoping he'd ask him to come back.
"Get your queer ass OUT of my house!" He screamed, red-faced at his only son. "No son of MINE is *gay*, you hear me?!" He shouted.
My heart ripped in half when my son whimpered, climbed into his car and sped out of the driveway. I watched my ex wife run out onto the front lawn sobbing and screaming for him to come back.
I fell to my knees and wept. I watched that evil son of a bitch march out onto the front lawn and grab his wife by the arm. He continued his verbal assault on her, blaming her for hugging our son too much, allowing him to explore feminine interests, and I couldn't take any more of it.
I watched my son's tail lights as he turned the corner.
He never came back. Never saw my boy again after that. Never got the chance to tell him I was wrong, and that I was sorry, and that I loved him no matter what.
I doubled over in pain as the darkness closed in around me.
Water began to run past my knees. I allowed it to flush me into the pit.
It was where I deserved to be.
I opened my eyes to find myself in a hospital bed. It turned out, I'd had a heart attack at the fair. I found my ex wife and my son standing at the edge of my bed. My consciousness was fading in and out, the room dimming at sudden intervals. I mouthed "I love you" to both of them. In case I didn't make it out of this bed.
I wanted the both of them to know it.
r/A15MinuteMythos | [Part 1 of 2]
I gave my knee a smack, trying to persuade my legs to stop shaking as I stared at the decaying brown shack. “They are just ordinary people in makeup. You aren’t scared of models and actors, are you?” I tried to give myself a pep talk, but it only caused my leg to shake more. Of course, I was scared of models and actors. They just felt so unapproachable for a person like me. The idea of starting a conversation with one felt like torture.
“Ok, come on. It’s fun, people enjoy this right? Weird people, but weird people are still people.” I murmured to myself, only to jump when a man by the haunted house’s door gave a sheepish cough, grabbing my attention.
“Sir, without being rude, it’s getting late. Are you coming inside or not?”
“Sorry, just trying to get myself prepared for this. It isn’t too scary, right?”
“Some say it’s the scariest journey around. Others find it oddly soothing; I can’t say, I have never been able to make the journey myself.”
“You play your character well.” Something compelled me to give the man a compliment, smiling at him, only for him to give me a roll of his eyes, motioning me towards the entrance.
He was a strange man. Tall, pointed nose, long drawn-out chin. He looked more like a caricature than a real person. It didn’t help that his suit was tacky as well, having bits of string drifting away from the well-worn fabric.
“Come on, either come inside or go home.” The man shouted, rather impatient for someone that didn’t have a line of people waiting to get in.
“Ok, wish me luck.” I pulled out my phone, taking a photo of the front of the building before stuffing it back into my pocket. I needed proof, after all. When I made it to the man, I went for my wallet, only for him to shake his head.
“No money is required. Please, step inside.” On cue, the door swung open, revealing a dark, long hallway inside. It was incredible, for such a small shack the hallway looked endless. Must have been some sort of optical illusion. With a drawn out breath of air, I worked up my courage stepping inside.
“Ok, any monsters around?” I joked, trying to ease my nerves as I sheepishly dragged myself through the hallway. With each step, I could hear ghostly voices. Trying to spot where they were coming from. “Heh, that’s neat.”
Despite my best efforts to be brave, I reached for my phone, putting its flashlight on. Sure, it might kill the fun, but I wanted to get out of this without being a crying mess by the end. The flashlight did well to light up the hallway, revealing a set of doors on each side, the doors staying firmly shut as I made my way through.
“Huh, no signal? Must be too many walls or something.” I whispered, only to jump back as a door swung open, revealing a man inside.
The man was hunched over a desk, cursing to himself before he threw aside a scrunched-up piece of paper. “Why do I even bother? No one likes this crap. I’m better off just taking some dead-end job like my parents did. This won’t pay the bills. Why am I wasting my time on it?”
He sounded insane, kicking back in his chair, only to tilt his head my way, revealing an identical face. He said nothing at first, only jumping to his feet. We shared a long pause before he began approaching me.
“Actors can’t touch the guests.” I stammered out, backing myself up against the wall, feeling his hand slide through my chest as he tried to poke me.
“You ruined us; we could have been someone great. We had dreams. Do you remember the first piece we created? The first thing we drew. Remember how good it felt to create.”
“You can create again.”
“Can I? We both know that’s a lie. You haven’t got the heart for it anymore. We are a failure.”
With that, the man vanished, leaving me alone. The room went black before I found myself in the hallway once more, staring at the assortment of doors. “Hey, I want to leave. Where’s the emergency exit?” I shouted, only to get no response, leaving me alone to continue searching the rooms.
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/q7zbrg/wp_this_year_you_decide_to_walk_through_a_haunted/hgm7758/) | 2021-10-14T08:00:48 | 2021-10-14T06:51:53 | 302 | 14 |
[WP] Humans have always been the friendliest and the most peaceful species in the galaxy. When one of the most ruthless empires decides to wipe out the pathetic humans and their diplomacy, they discover that humans have something that no one in the galaxy has ever seen. Nuclear weapons. | "What does all of this even mean?" Garrok asked aloud. She and Farrun scanned the transmission for a fifth time, attempting to glean the intent behind the nonsense they had been given. They understood what radiation was but most of the words seemed straight out of fantasy. What was a 'fallout?' Or 'scrubbing?' What reaction did they mean by 'runaway reaction?'
"It's a threat from humanity, clearly, but a threat of what?" Farrun asked. They both knew what he was referring to. The war against humanity started barely a galactic day-cycle ago. It was an honorless ambush on humanity's home system but even she, simple researcher that she was, felt that such a thing was necessary.
Humanity was, without a doubt, the greatest nuisance the Larr'ell race had ever faced. Eons of galactic economic supremacy undermined by weak, furless monkeys who happened to know how to butter people up. They were a pathetic race barely fit for combat and they somehow leveraged the sympathy their many weaknesses brought them into a political and economic hegemony that threatened both the current galactic economy and the Larr'ell way of life.
A decapitating strike was necessary and an ambush the only feasible option. They had left humanity unimpeded and now they had too many allies for them to face and so the government, with the people's blessing, decided to strike the valgrax at its heart or die trying.
Humanity's single-minded focus on industrial and logistical technologies created a vulnerability that they needed to exploit before it was closed. The Larr'ell and their few remaining allies could not afford a drawn out battle. Human ships may have been mobile like no other but they lacked the power or durability they needed to overpower the Larr'ell capital fleet in a single decisive battle. If they could force them to the table before they could shift to a wartime economy, they could win unconditionally. And so that was what they did. They forced them into a single, decisive battle last she heard. Humanity's swift defeat should have been a foregone conclusion. Was a foregone conclusion.
So why was she feeling incalculable dread as she skimmed the contents of the transmission for a fifth time. The transmission arrived unencrypted and unobstructed straight into the capital of their homeworld. She could imagine how badly the Data Defense Department were being chewed out for that oversight. Strangely, civilian targets had been the recipients of the transmission instead of the governmental or military ones: hospitals, research labs, and even weather centers. The government itself was in a frenzy over the attack. They believed it was an ultimatum. She couldn't help but worry that they were right but she wisely kept that opinion to herself. The air around the war declaration was of jubilation after all. They had made their bed and anything less than full commitment would not only ruin their legacy but that of their entire race.
She felt the impact before she heard it. The ground beneath her seemed to give before catching itself and she felt the pressure drop for a moment. And then the boom: a mind-shattering bang followed by a rolling rumble that seemed to drag on forever. She'd first thought one of their kinetic cannons had misfired and launched a rod somewhere nearby but no weapon she knew of in their arsenal made that sort of terrifying sound.
She gathered her senses around the time she began hearing the screams. Farrun, who had somehow gotten on his feet before she did, stood by the window, face black and bloodless. Reluctantly, she looked out the window to see. What she didn't see though would haunt her for the rest of her days.
The crown jewel of their empire, the seat and cradle of the Larr'ell civilization, her beloved Beiran, was gone. An ashen hand holding a war hammer rose up from where it once stood, as if only now judging its bloodcurdling handiwork done. She and Farrun stood motionless as a second transmission from the humans was received.
"Any survivors within 532 breadths of the blasts should be considered to have suffered permanent genetic damage. They cannot be saved. Any survivors within 532 and 727 breadths of the blasts must evacuate immediately or risk permanent genetic damage. Any survivors within 727 and..." | No one could understand what had happened Usually complete orbital bombardment of a city would take several Earth years if not decades. Yet in under 6 hours of declaration an entire Garlax city had disappeared. 7 hours later another gone.8 hours. Another. It wasn’t until 23 cities had vanished that channels opened between the Garlax and Earth to negotiate surrender. It wasn’t even their president. It was the sixth in command. All others couldn’t be found. The entire planet was eventually scuttled and abandoned.
It took the entire Federation 6 months of investigation before deciding to simply ask the earthlings what had happened.
They stated that under one of their monuments, Roose Moose or something like that, was a cache of high yield explosives from generations past. They had retrofitted a handful of these onto some FTL drives, took aim, and fired. They didn’t know what they were. We still don’t know what they are. Needless to say, Earth and its colonies are enjoying some generous trade deals now. And now one has been on the Garlax home world since. | 2020-02-07T15:32:23 | 2020-02-07T14:02:54 | 49 | 20 |
[WP] The first generation of wizards inherits from their parents’ professions. For example, a child of a chef and a swimmer wields fire and water spells. You possess something interesting. |
I’m not sure how many of the other children in the bus had ever encountered gunfire first-hand in their lives, but the moment the windows shattered, sending shards cascading through the air, muscle memory kicked in. I recalled the drills they taught at school and threw my head between my knees, pulling my body in, and I could see that the rest were doing the same. The careless chatter and breezy laughter which filled the bus only moments ago now seemed like it was from another lifetime.
Silence bloomed as all of us took stock. I was safe – none of the bullets had hit me. But the driver and two of the government agents weren’t so lucky, and the first screams wafted down from the front seats as blood streamed down the aisle.
Agent Barrow’s voice rang out, strong, commanding, but with a tinge of fear to it. “Stay down, stay down! I’ve already radioed for help, so just stay down!”
I felt Lana’s hand on mine, and I turned to meet her eyes. She had chosen to cut her hair short this time, and I was going to do the same, but she had counselled me otherwise. *Let’s not be one of those pairs of twins who must look exactly the same all the time,* she had said.
“You’re alright? Are you hit?”
“I’m fine. You ok?”
I nodded, and that was when another volley of shots rang out, peppering the front of the bus. More screams, but there was no time for that now. I strained my ears, and it seemed that the attackers had hidden themselves in the clutch of trees to the side of the junction. If they had known we were going to take this route, if they had known we were going to stop here, then it could only have been an ambush…
My suspicions were confirmed just moments later. A male voice, amplified through a megaphone, filtered in through the broken windows.
“Everyone come down from the bus! Hands in the air! If we see a single one of you chanting, or casting, or doing whatever the hell it is you bloody mages do, we’ll kill you on the spot! We mean it! Get off the bus, now!”
“Antima,” said Lana. “How did they know?”
Antima, the home-grown organization which prided themselves on the “purity” of the human race, which believed that any human showing potential in developing magic was the surest sign of demonspawn or unholiness. Their manifesto was easy enough for all to understand – there could not be any room for mages on earth, period. Magic wasn’t something to be embraced, it was something to be weeded out, put down before it had time to flourish.
And when their attempts at lobbying the government failed, when their hamfisted efforts to shut down the specialized training colleges fizzled out, it seemed that their last recourse was to attack the young initiates themselves.
In other words, us.
“Idiots, thinking they can silence us. I’ll show them what we can do.”
That was Josh, three seats behind me. The bus tipped slightly as he stood up, and I didn’t need to turn to feel the filaments of magic being woven by him, being pulled in like a vacuum sucks in the dust in a room. I had wondered before whether the biggest teenager in our neighbourhood was more talk than action, but it seemed that he was braver than I had given him credit for.
“No, Josh! Back to your seat!” shouted Agent Barrow. “This is an order! Our forces are on the way!”
“You want us to wait here while they kill us like fish in a barrel? I’m not dying that way!”
“All of you are untrained! You think you have a chance against real-life weapons out there?”
“Better than dying here like a coward,” said Josh, as he passed by me. There was a reddish hue, a magma aura which hung around him. It radiated heat so strong that I flinched away. “I’m not going to let these people tell me what I can or cannot do with my powers.”
I wondered briefly how Josh had learned to channel his powers so effectively. We knew at this point that magic was awakening in a small percentage of those born after the year 2000, and that there were different magical affinities depending on what professions their parents had. Josh’s father was a firefighter, and his mother a chef, and it therefore stood to reason that he would manifest an alignment to fire magic.
What was more surprising was how he had even managed to summon that armour of flame. He must have been pouring himself into the forums online, or watching tutorials put up by other children before the government took the videos offline. We all knew magic was dangerous, and that was why we could only practice under strict supervision. It was a minor miracle that Josh was still alive, given how much he must have experimented.
“Are you stupid?” yelled Agent Barrow. “You think that is going to make you bulletproof?”
“Well, I’m going down there and I’m going to burn as many as I can find! As I said, I’m not going to sit here and die!”
“Wait! Just hold on, wait!”
I felt all eyes swivel to me, and frankly, I was surprised myself. Even Lana shrunk away, confusion writ across her brow.
“I… I think I can help,” I said. The effort I was exerting was already bringing on a headache, but there was no time to worry about that now. “I think I can… tell that there four of them out there. Just four. They are… far away, but I think I can get them to, at least, not shoot at us for a while. We just have to hang in there until help comes.”
“For goodness sakes,” said Agent Barrow. “All of you are not even trainees yet! And all of you think you can go out there and be heroes!”
“I’m not trying to be a hero!” I said. “It’s what my parents have always taught us! Everyone has common fears, common hopes. We’re the same, underneath it all. We just need to make the effort, that’s all!”
I wasn’t sure exactly how my magic was going to be classified, or whether there were others who were familiar with it. I had thought I was merely good at persuading people at first, and it was only after I was tested that I learned that what I was doing, wasn’t exactly normal at all. Advanced persuasion, the testers had called it. The ability to influence people, a manifestation of the social work my parents had dealt in their whole lives.
Well, I had never influenced so many people at once before, but it seemed to be working. I felt the tension seep out of them as they paused to consider my advice. Even Josh dialled down his magic a notch, and his armour turned a darker shade of orange.
But I couldn’t expend so much magic on them. The four Antima members outside the bus were my primary concern. If they didn’t listen to me now…
“He has a point,” said Agent Barrow. “If we can just buy some time, then maybe we can-”
The invisible line of magic I had tethered to Josh broke, and it snapped back so hard I had mental whiplash. I saw his eyes enlarge, and a rage opened up in him, wafting off him in palpable waves. I tried to reach out to him again, but it was no use. Josh trampled down the aisle, pushed past Agent Barrow, then ran towards the spot where the gunfire had come from.
The other children screamed again, but I forced myself to watch the results of my failure. I watched the initial spray of bullets melt away as they met with Josh’s armour, but as the distance closed, some of them finally broke through. I saw Josh’s body shudder with the impact, but onwards he ran, a veritable force of nature.
Josh gave as good as he received. There were flashes of fire spewing from his hands, arcing towards his attackers. It didn’t matter if he was accurate, for the dry undergrowth flamed to life, and thick smoke soon flushed out the four Antima. My mindlink was still active, and I could feel them boiling with pain.
Then, a final explosion, as the last of Josh’s magic burst out of him. A balloon, overflowing.
All was quiet for a moment. Then, sirens again, as the woefully delayed backup began to arrive.
I turned to Lana, and I gripped her hands as tight as I could. My voice had dropped to a whisper, but inside, I was already screaming.
“Tell me you did not push him to do that,” I said. “Tell me. I want to hear it from you.”
A chill spread through me as I saw her lips tighten.
“You chose to de-escalate, I chose the opposite,” she said. “One life versus all of ours. Surely that cannot be wrong.”
“No, you don’t understand. You can’t just do-”
“Lauren,” she said, her eyes narrowing again. “We can sit here and debate the whole day. You may be the older twin, but you’re too soft for this world. You’re alive, get over it.”
She pushed my hand away, and my knuckles tightened with the effort of not lunging at her that very second. We didn’t speak another word that entire day, not even during the debriefing, or the medical checks, not even during the assignments to our dormitories. This issue, this fundamental philosophical divide between us, would not be brought up again for some time.
But I knew it would eventually come up again, some day.
---
/r/rarelyfunny
| "Another beautiful day in sunny St. Thomas, we have been blessed again with another wonderful Summer!" roared the television.
Cathy chopped a fresh carrot from her garden and slid it into her salad bowl.
"And this is Stan the Weatherman, signing off—"
"Let the blessed sun, shin on," Cathy said with the weatherman, and she turned off the TV.
The kids were out, around the corner at Chestwood Park. Spark would be playing in the grass no doubt, probably writing love poems in charred script. But they would be to Desmy, the cute little girl of Olympic swimmer, so she would be putting them out. It was a stroke luck, really, that they decided to settle here. Without Desmy, Spark could light the whole place on fire without anyone to put it out right away. Well, Cathy could but then she'd be watching over him like a possessive mother. That was not her style.
Her husband, Adam, came home just before the kids. He kissed Cathy and took a seat at the kitchen island.
"How's your day going, hun?" asked Cathy.
"It's good," said Adam. "The boys had to run to an apartment fire but we have one waterboy in our squad now. His damn magic is unbelievable. I bet that little girl, what's her name? Deseriee?"
"Desmy."
"Yeah, she's going to help a lot of people in the future. I mean, we barely have to take out the hose anymore."
"Is that why you're here early?"
"You bet ya." Adam stood up and made his way to Cathy. He leaned in and kissed her again. His hand rounded on her back and ventured down. "Early enough to—"
The front door opened and his hand retreated to Cathy's waist.
The kids ran into the kitchen, Spark juggling fireballs and Naomi in tears.
"What did you do?" Adam said to Spark.
Spark shrugged his shoulders. "Wasn't me, I told her it was lunchtime and she ran up to me like that."
"And you didn't ask what was wrong?"
Spark shrugged. "No," he said. It was girl's he was after. If his sister was crying, what did he care?
Cathy shook her head and gave a look only a mother could give. That look that tickles the conscious with guilt just a little and then goes away. A few minutes later, it come back growing like an infection. Before long, the guilt has spread and the only cure is an apology. But that would come later.
Cathy knelt down and Naomi collapsed into her arms.
"What's wrong, dear?"
"They didn't want to play with me."
"Who didn't?"
"Everyone. They said I was no fun. They said I'm just some stupid weather girl. And I'll trapped on TV my whole life." Naomi broke out into a sob.
"Everyone?"
Naomi didn't say anything.
"Was it Jacob?"
Naomi shook her head.
"Ahh," said Cathy, "so it wasn't everyone. Maybe Austin?"
Naomi shook her head again.
"Lillian?"
Naomi paused and then shook her head.
"Ah ha!" Cathy grabbed her keys and head out the door. "Lock the door when you leave," she called to Adam.
Lillian. The pretentious little runt. It wasn't her felt, Cathy knew that. Her parents were doctors who were only in it for the money. They drove Porsches, threw parties that went too late, bribed police officers, basically anything they wanted any damn time they wanted. And they passed that onto Lillian.
Cathy pulled up to their mansion and Lillian was just walking up the driveway.
"Hey!" Cathy called but Lillian kept walking.
*Woosh*
A gust of wind sent Lillian back. And another. And another. Each gust sent her closer to the mansion's gate.
"Hey!" screamed the intercom. "What are you doing here, Cathy? Shouldn't you be out making sure the next hurricane doesn't kill someone."
"Oh, shut it, Nancy, I'm here to do something you know nothing about."
"What?" Nancy must have checked the cameras because the next thing Cathy knew, alarms began ringing off.
"Hey," said Cathy as Lillian reached the gate. "You know who I am?"
Lillian nodded.
"You know what you did to Naomi?"
Lillian smiled, then hid it. A speck of rain fell on her cheek.
"Are you going to apologize and Never do it again?"
Lillian shook her head. "You're no good either!" she said.
"Cathy, you get back!" yelled Nancy from the home. She began running towards the gate.
"Are you sure?" said Cathy. "This is your last chance."
"Bleeeeeh," hummed Lillian, sticking out her tongue.
"Alright."
All it took was a second for a tsunami-like wave of rain to come soaring down from the sky. It fell onto Lillian, soaking her completely. It washed the cute little flowers from her hair; it soaked the purple designer sundress her mother paid thousands for and when Lillian got to her feet, the rainfall followed her right into her home.
"Cathy, you psycho bitch!" said Nancy. "You stop that right now!"
"Then you better teach your child some manners. You know she said Naomi was a good-for-nothing weathergirl?" Cathy may have embellished a bit.
"So? She is."
A speck of rain fell on Nancy's cheek.
"You know. We've been blessed with such great weather here. I mean, I can't remember the last bad day we had. Especially on the days of those parties you're always throwing."
Nancy glared. If looks could kill, Cathy would be smitten. But that was not her power, indeed she had none, as did all alternate generations.
"Fine. We'll start teaching Lillian some manners."
"Oh, and Naomi would love to come over and play sometime. She really loves your place. She always marvels when we drive on by."
Nancy ground her teeth. "Fine," she said.
"Great! Thanks for the chat Nancy. Have a wonderful afternoon!"
The next day, Naomi was invited up to the Thabbernath's mansion. She got to play in their infinity pool, feed their ponies and play with Lillian's English tea set. Best of all, Lillian apologized and was never mean to her again. | 2018-04-15T11:05:37 | 2018-04-15T10:00:49 | 43 | 23 |
[WP] A super hero fights evil by wiping memories of both the villian and everyone who knew of them so that they can be reintroduced into society safely. Today, as you were combing through old newspapers, you discover that you were once the world's most powerful supervillain. | Maria fumbled for the keys in her bag, eventually finding the heart shaped keyring her husband had given to her long ago. How long exactly, she couldn't quite remember.
The lock clicked. A monotonous buzzing greeted her, as if a giant hornet had taken up residence in their home since she'd left for work. "Honey?" she called out. "Are you okay?"
No reply.
She stepped into the lounge and was met by an unpleasent, smoky smell. The buzzing had intensified too. It was a sound she now recognised, but hadn't heard for a long, long time.
An electric razor.
Maria frowned, a little annoyed that Peter was likely removing his thick, flowing beard. There was something she loved dearly about it -- the white hairs that shot through the blond reminded her of sunlight bouncing gleefully off an icy waterfall. It suited a physicist. It suited *him*.
*buzzzz*
The living room table was a mess of cigarettes and empty beer bottles -- Peter had clearly enjoyed his day off. A folded page of a newspaper wafted up and down in the gentle breeze from an open window.
*buzzz*
Maria moved idly to the table, picking up first the cigarette remains, then dropping them on the carpet as the face in the paper stared up at her, her husband's keen eyes meeting her own. His face was clean shaven, and his wrinkles softened -- but there was no mistaking him.
Her hands shook as she picked it up and read.
> Master Particle. Prior to Reworking's alterations. Considered the greatest physicist of his generation. But another talent wasted by the great 'hero'. This paper says Reworking is not the answer! We're the only paper brave enough to print a picture like this and...
She stopped reading. Something was wrong: there was no sound.
"Welcome home, *Maria*."
Maria gulped as she turned to see the man in the paper standing behind her.
"Sweetheart..."
"Is it really Maria? No, of course it isn't. It doesn't matter now though."
"I didn't ..."
"I was great, you know. The greatest, they say. I could have changed the world. Now I teach school children basic astrophysics. The order of the planets -- and they can't even get that right without a pathetic mnemonic to aid them. My life -- or at least many years of it -- has been wasted. Can you imagine if they'd lobotomised a young Eistein? Where would we be?"
He slowly removed a knife from his jacket pocket.
"*Please.*"
"How long until you were done spying on me, *darling*? Until you left me! I loved you *so* much. In my mind, you loved me, too. But only in my mind! It's all a Goddamned lie! You'll pay for that deceit, I promise you."
"Please, Peter. In my mind, I love you too. *I do!* I don't know what's happened. I don't understand any of this."
He grinned as he stalked forward. "Oh, *you know*. You're here to watch over me. To report back to them each day, when I think you're working, so you can all laugh at me. *Mock me.* The great, *impotent*, Master Particle."
*"I always loved y..." *
The knife was sharp and cut her throat cleanly and easily. She didn't scream as her blood spattered the carpet.
Maria's body fell next to the fallen cigarette remains.
---
It was an hour later, as Peter drank greedily from a clear bottle, his boots resting on his dead wife's carcass, that a gust from the open window turned the newspaper's page.
Peter leaned forward, his eyes wide. He snatched the paper up. He read silently twice over, then mumbled a litany of *no's*. Finally, he swore bloody revenge on the world itself.
He looked down at his wife through bleary eyes, scalding tears spilling down his cheeks. How could this have happened? His life had been perfect -- *twice!* Now he could never go back... *could he*?
He knelt over Maria and gently pressed his trembling lips against her forehead.
Peter could feel his mind buzzing; could see the sparks leaping from his hands. He felt in tune with the universe's tempestuous vibrations, and he knew in that moment, exactly what he was capable of:
*The end of everything.*
Peter got to his feet and looked at the paper a final time.
> At least they had the decency to erase his wife's -- his assistant Scarlett (pictured above) -- mind, and to keep them together in their new lives. But this paper, this reporter, says it's not enough! It's time to end Reworking.
---
Part two: https://www.reddit.com/r/nickofnight/comments/7n3dix/master_particle_part_two/
| I knew it, I god damn knew it!
That was the only thought racing through my mind at that moment. Everything else was quiet, unnaturally so. I mean, only a few minutes ago, Karen was in here with those old newspapers and my coffee. Those damn papers...
I looked up at them, strewn across my mahogany desk. To think, I had just wanted them out of curiosity. Today was a rare day off for me, no clients and no research to do, so I had decided to read up on before I lost my memory. A car crash, that's what they told me.
I didn't even need to look at the name, it all came back as soon as I saw that picture. As soon as I saw that mask I wore, I knew exactly who I was and what I had done. I'm even ashamed to say that the memories awakened something in me. Something that longed for those days.
At first, I was angry, obviously. They were my memories. MINE! It didn't matter how bad they were, how much they hurt me, or what they had driven me to do. What are we if not a collection of memories after all?
I picked up the picture of my family, my wife Alice, and the baby in her arms. I smiled as I looked over them. No, that's right. I have new memories now. Better memories. I have a loving and beautiful wife, and the being that she held was more perfect than any world I had tried to create. All the violence was gone from me now.
I touched the picture of my wife's face, my smile only growing. And I couldn't help but laugh a bit as I watched the red tendrils devour the photo. There was soon nothing left of the photo, but ashes and my laughter. My loving wife and child.
They would be first. | 2022-12-05T21:34:05 | 2017-12-30T08:22:01 | 3,733 | 37 |
[WP]For three years you’ve had an uneventful marriage with your spouse when one day they become the Chosen One. Immediately setting off on their journey you don’t hear anything from them for five years. Then one day they reappear with a sheepish look on their face and hoping to speak to you. | “Hey nerd” she says in the same tone she used to use when she went out with her girlfriends and stayed out a little later than she said she would. Apologetic but also mischievous as if she were a rascal and not the person who ruined me five years ago.
“Glad you’re alive… she can talk now but only knows you were saving the world or our souls, depending on the night. I didn’t want to ruin her mother for her, especially if you didn’t make it, but she’s happy, and damnit if she won’t be smarter than both of us in fewer years than I care to admit. Your parents think little bug got it from me but she’s better than I ever was…”
I don’t say anything more, I can’t. I know that there was no other choice and no other option but damn… I’ve never been so happy to see someone I hated so much. When those dorks in robes with books handwritten in latin showed up, I invited them in. It was hot, they were flush and sweaty, and even though I knew I wasn’t converting to anything I respected their devotion to whatever religion they were pedaling. I have faith, I respect beliefs and all that, so I offered them a drink and asked them to sit on the “guest” couch. The patio couch we picked out together because we both thought it was perfect for our first home together… and we both were too stupid to walk away when the salesman mentioned that it was beautiful patio furniture. God we were stubborn, just kids really, but as usual I followed your lead, and bought the couch with my last 3 paychecks as you acted like we picked it for our living room intentionally, like we were some home décor mavericks. Fortunately your quick wit worked out, as usual, because it fit perfectly in our front hallway and totally worked with my weird guilt-driven hospitality quirks which compelled me to invite every sweaty ass that came across our doorbell in for some AC and a glass of water.
But then they showed us their books. Unlike the Mormons and Jehovahs Witnesses that came before, these books didn’t just contain good words, but drawings of you, right down to your scars and birthmarks. It didn’t take long for me to regret my hospitality because despite all logic and reason, it was obvious that this was special, that you were special…
But none of this matters anymore, how could it? You changed 27 diapers before you left, I changed the rest. I taught little bug to brush her teeth, to read, to wipe right even though I had no idea what the consequences were for wiping wrong. I had to do it all because you left on an adventure, while I had to become even more domesticated than I was when we met. And I hated you for that, not for leaving me, but for leaving her, because even after the initial pain and shock subsided and I put on my best Vulcan logic… I knew I couldn’t leave her even if I was the Christ of all the religions… but you.. you could and you did.
“I really am glad you’re alive” I force myself to say in the nicest voice I can muster. “But you need to go say hi and leave.” “I was granted a divorce a few years ago and granted sole custody back in March, it was tough since you weren’t dead and I wasn’t going to act like you were, but it hasn’t been easy around here.”
Her eyes went blank and her fake optimism turned into feigned sadness, or at least that’s how it seemed to me, but she didn’t fight me. She barely asked what she could do to make it up before I had to turn away. I needed to say this without sniffling and without my voice cracking… not because I needed to show her I was strong, but to show myself I was.
“You were chosen, and I try every day to come to terms with that, but when you were chosen, you didn’t choose us. I understand that it’s not as simple as that but to me it is, not only did I not have a choice, but when I look at her I know, there is no choice. God could come to me personally and I wouldn’t need even a moment, she is the only choice, and forgive the reference but you chose poorly.” | Do you realize how much suffering your sudden and unexplained Departure caused miss Jenna the chosen one, the unconqurable, the Guardian of life?
1st I had to deal with the sheriffs and the guards investigating and imprisoning me because they were sure I murdered you.
Second as a result of me being imprisoned our son Died as a result of there being no one to feed him. So the 1st thing I find after6 months of being imprisoned of having No other lights in my life was finding out that my Only Child was a long dead And I had to bury him, He is buried up on the top of that hill if you have any interest. He is surrounded by Your favorite flower tiger lilies.
Then I had to seek work to feed my own damn self which lead me to then become a farmer.
And now once I have my life back together, have a Wonderful woman that loves me And a new babe But I love deeper than the sea and higher than the heavens Now is when you decide to return. You just want it all to come back to the way it was.
Fine all you have to do is bring back our son and undo the months of imprisonment and Torture I had to suffer with | 2022-08-12T21:07:01 | 2022-08-12T19:06:37 | 27 | 10 |
[WP] The air we breathe is actually an extremely hallucinogenic substance that affects all of your senses. One day, you stumble upon a strange-looking gas mask sitting on a bench in a park, when you put it on you slowly start to see and feel the world the way it truly is. | It was a strange one. This mask held no weight whatsoever. Like lifting up balloon, except my mind kept telling me what I held there in my hand was supposed to be heavier.
*Put it on*
A note was attached inside. Was it there before? I shrugged and pressed the mask against my face, pulling the elastic band around my head.
"Aha there we go. Wakey wakey.", an unfamiliar voice said above me.
I opened my eyes. I found myself lying on a table in a dark room, the gas mask still on my face. I tried to move my limbs, but they felt strangely heavy, like they've never been used before.
"Whoa there, boy...take it easy. Your neural connection to this body is not complete yet. Give it a few moment. You just have been transferred to this body", the voice once again informed me. Who is this man? Some kind of a doctor? Did something happen to me after I put the gas mask on in the park? Because I could not remember anything...
"I....I....", I tried to speak up. My tongue, my vocal chord...everything felt heavy like my limbs. A few moment later however, like a switch being clicked everything was connected.
"I...can speak", I muttered.
"Can you now? That's good. Alright let's get to some explanation, shall we? Because this one is a tad bit complicated", the man said.
"Who are you? Where am I?", I said sitting up removing the mask, my eyes still adjusting to the darkness.
"You can call me Doctor, because...well, that's what I am hah. As for where you are...well, welcome to the real world", he said stretching his arms like a showman would.
I frowned, pondering on what he meant. Then the horrifying sight finally caught my eyes. The room I was in was some kind of an impossibly large room, bigger than I thought. Rows and rows of jars full of liquid.....brains, human brains suspended by cables within the liquid.
"What the f\*ck?!", I yelled.
"Yep....my first reaction too", Doctor quipped. "Yes boy, this is the real world and no I'm not kidding you. Surely you have heard of brain in the jar theory?"
I was still slack jawed, gawking at the sight. My heart raced, felt like the very first time I've ever experienced it...which really it was indeed my first time having a physical heart.
"Yep brain in the jar...the nanofiber cables provide stimulants to the brain, conjuring vision, hearing, smell, touch, taste, and everything a human would....all 7.8 billion brains and counting sharing the same simulation", he explained while holding a jar with a brain inside like a teacher giving a presentation to his student.
"This....is the real world...", I muttered in disbelief, still processing the truth of my reality.
"Yep....this vessel is made of hundreds and trillions of nanobots, ever expanding, safely ran by an AI. The very last remnants of technology by the last inhabitants of earth", said the Doctor.
"You mean...we're not on earth right now?"
"Oh no, we left the Solar System hundreds of years ago. The planet had become extremely inhabitable. Escaping to the stars were our only option, but with very limited resources we couldn't really carry all of the planet's population here so a selection were going to take place...
Until some mad man propose the brain in the jar option. Taking human brains and putting them inside these jars, continuing life as it was thousands of years previous, during earth's golden age. He came up with the technology and all, he was a genius if not absurdly insane.
It was crazy, but they did it anyway. With the one man who suggested the idea in the first place at the helm, we set to the stars. He was the only flesh and blood human left, given the responsibility to care for these brains the rest of his life. It was an honor, but more of a punishment if you ask me, for suggesting such outrageous idea", the Doctor chuckled.
"Are...are you that man?", I asked.
"Oh god no, no my dear boy. I was the 13th caretaker, handpicked by the previous one. My predecessor was picked by the previous one and on and on and on. Curse of getting old you know. I picked you just now, putting you inside this body. Using nanobots, the same material that makes the vessel I created your new body. Neat huh?", the Doctor chuckled once again.
"How did you do it?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"How did you pick your successor?"
The Doctor pouted, thinking his answer, "Eenie-meenie-miney-mo", he shrugged.
I leaned back, failing to catch my breath. Heh I was thrown into this crazy situation because there's a mad man playing around with my brain, looking for a companion and a protege...all because he randomly happened to pick mine.
"So...shall we go for a tour of the place?", he jumped up like an excited dog. Decades of being alone caring for billions of brains must have fried his own.
"Uh yeah sure...", I said moving my legs for the first time. | The first things to go were the colours. Everything faded away to black and white. Then light itself disappeared; the world shifted from pictures of things to impressions of things, like seeing the half-rendered images of a video game. Then sound disappeared. It was utterly quiet. And then people. There had been hundreds of people scattered around the park, and then they were gone. Turned off.
'My God,' I said. My voice sounded like I was underground, close to my ears.
I stood. But I didn't feel my body moving - my viewpoint just raised. When I started to walk, it was as though I was a floating camera, or a drone, drifting through a suddenly silent and empty world.
I took only a few steps and the buildings flickered, then disappeared. Then everything on the ground - grass, paths, pebbles, flowerbeds.
There was nothing left in the world except a grid, extending in all directions.
'My God,' I said again.
There was nothing at all in the world. No wait: There was a dot. Far ahead of me. I walked towards it, with that gliding, diconnected motion.
The dot resolved into something that I could almost make sense of, but it was perplexing. Then as if my mind was remembering a very old skill, I was able to read two words and some symbols:
SYSTEM RESET Y/N?
Under 'Y' and 'N' were buttons.
I stretched out my hand, and there was a blurry whiteness where my hand should be.
Enough. I reached up to pull the mask off my face, but my white-light hand passed straight through the space where my face should be.
I resisted the overwhelming urge to panic.
I looked around the world, but there was nothing else.
'My God,' I said again.
I stared at the two words and the symbols. Then I pushed the 'Y' button, and everything faded to black.
\--
r/HouseBlendMedium | 2020-12-19T19:44:17 | 2020-12-19T19:33:28 | 49 | 35 |
[WP]You are a caretaker at a retirement home for reformed supervillains. You have just found out that you have a superpower ,now the ex-villains wanna train you to be a superhero . | “A spectacular video of Captain hazer beam, the hero from the frat house, saving four civilians from a burning building is trending on…” The television was blaring in the corner of the room. Tucker pressed on the power button and the image shrank to a small white circle with a buzz of static.
“C’mon Demon-toe, you know your blood pressure raises when they start talking about heroes,” Tucker said.
“These damned brats, the heroes in my day were actual heroes. Not snobby attention whores. ‘the frat house hero?’ what a joke,” the old man said, pointing a shaking hand at the black screen.
“Heh, bet he’s getting a handful of lovely ladies tonight,” Box-cutter said.
“Jealous Boxxy? Your blade hasn’t extended in over ten years,” Cute-noose laughed.
“Want to find out?” Box-cutter winked.
“Gross,” Tucker said looking between the two retired villains.
“Nothing gross about it boy, someday you’ll find a damsel and want to kidnap her too,” Box-cutter said.
Demon-toe scoffed and turned his wheelchair around to face the young man. “Don’t listen to him, I can tell by the look in your eyes. You’d be one of the good guys. She had the same look,” Demon-toe said, thrusting his thumb at a poster of Epic-lady, history’s greatest hero.
Tucker sighed and put his hands on his hips shaking his head. “Listen guys, it’s time for bed.” He turned a glare at Box-cutter, “and when I wake you up tomorrow, I expect to find you in \*your\* room.”
Box-cutter laughed, standing up on his. He winked at tucker and said, “No promises.”
Tucker raised an eyebrow and smirked. “I guess it depends on how good the locks are I put on your door.”
The retired villain’s jaw dropped into an exaggerated frown that only the elderly could manage. The locks wouldn’t hold long against this fart, but at least he wouldn’t have to worry about tonight.
Tucker twisted the knob, linked the chain, set the bar, and wiped the sweat from his brow. He could hear Box-cutter muttering on the other-side of the door. The bastard was already coming up with an escape plan.
“Don’t worry about him, coming up with plans exhausts the guy.” Demon-toe was sitting in his wheelchair and smiling up at Tucker. Of all the villains here, Demon-toe was considered the greatest. If his back hadn’t broken in his last encounter with Epic-lady, the internet forums believed he’d still be the strongest villain alive. It was hard for Tucker to imagine the old man as evil, he’d talk more about morals and virtue than anyone else. The lesson’s he preached made Tucker a better person, and he’d always be grateful for that.
The wheels of Demon-toe’s chair squeaked as Tucker parked it aside the old man’s bed. He helped the elderly man up into his bed, grunting and wincing in pain.
“Does it hurt? Should I get your meds?” Tucker asked, his voice filled with concern.
“I can bear it. This is the price of my delinquent years,” the old man chuckled, masking his groans of discomfort.
“Don’t be so stubborn, I’m here so you don’t have to suffer,” Tucker said.
“That’s not why you’re here, that’s what you do here, not why.”
Tucker furrowed his brows, “Why—”
Demon-toe poked a finger between the young man’s eyes and smiled, “Those eyes of yours are the kind true heroes have, if you're not helping others you rot.”
“I’m not a hero, I only took this job because I don’t have to pay for rent.”
“Saving up for college, smart kid. The world is cruel, If justice was real you’d be a hero. Instead of some frat house dirt bag, I bet he and Boxxy would hit it off.”
Tucker laughed, “I’m sure they’d have a lot to talk about. Now, get some sleep Demon-toe. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Aye,” the old man said, closing his eyes.
\~\~\~
too long for one post. continued below. | I have been looking over these supers for a year now. Trying to treat them all as... regular citizens, but I manage. How would one comfort an individual who is irrational and, even in their decrepped state, still capable of commiting mass murder? One tries their hardest to talk normally.
All my residents have developed a sense of humanity and I'd like to think it was because of my efforts. everyone else working here treats these people like monsters, but i see the kindness in their hearts, the wrongdoings they recieved in life that lead them to thinking they're right. Dealing with super powered individuals never prepared me to be a super powered individual, but apparently I'm a late bloomer. I started hearing their thoughts. A lot of the residents want to die, violently, to pay the tolls of their past. When confronting one of my residents, they asked how I heard them. My muscle mass quadrupled over night and it was very painful during the transition.
Now my residents want to train me. They banded together in the night and decided to right their wrongs through me. My training starts tomorrow. Will I have an advantage over current super-villains by being trained by some of the very same people who trained them? | 2019-04-15T14:11:05 | 2019-04-15T10:02:05 | 75 | 56 |
[WP] One day you wake up with 30 dollars and a note that says “For Rent”. The thing is you aren’t renting out the place. The next day you see a spider and right before you kill it you hear it say, “Please i paid my rent don’t kill me”. | I heard the little voice say "Please! I paid my rent don't kill me."
I blinked down at the little spider and then the rolled up Sports Illustrated in my hand, "Dude, what?"
"Don't kill me!" the voice repeated. "Thirty dollars. Seems more than fair to me for the top left corner."
I put the SI down, "Are you...like...a talking spider?"
"No," the small voice replied. Relief flooded through me. A talking spider meant I'd smoked something really gnarly last night. "I'm a telepathic spider. Who ever heard of a talking spider? I don't even have the mouth parts for that you stupid monkey."
"Oh, okay," I replied. That made so much more sense. Yeah. It didn't make sense for a spider to talk. "So, what you doing in my bedroom, telepathic spider?"
The little brown spider shuffled a little to the left and to the right. I'm not down with spider body language but I think it might have been irritated. Whatever.
"Well, right now I'm trying to convince you not to squish me. Especially if the last thing I see is Kyler Fackrell's enormous face coming at me."
Dude. Who? I looked down at the curled SI laying on my bed. Sure enough, the lineup of the New York Giants. How would a spider know that? I didn't know that. I only buy it for the swimsuit issue. I couldn't come up with an answer so I asked, "How do you know the Giants?"
"Not much to do but hang out in my web and watch TV," the spider replied. "At least the previous renter owned a few books."
Confused I raised an eyebrow. At least I think I did. It's a move I used a lot in high school where I kind of fold up the left side of my forehead and my right eyebrow goes up and to the west, "You can read?"
The spider grumbled something that I couldn't really make out. That was kind of weird because according to the spider, everything was in my head. Man, all this telepathy was making my head hurt and I kind of wanted to get high.
"Who are you kidding?" the spider asked. "You always want to get high."
Now the spider was reading my mind. Did it know about the thing with my roommate's girlfriend? Did it know about my cousin from Miami? Did it know there was no girlfriend in Canada and I'd just lifted some pictures off of Insta...
"Yes, I know all those things," The spider interrupted. "Please stop thinking about them. Touching your mind makes me want to leap down a seagull's gullet."
"Sorry, little spider man," I whispered. "I'll try not to think those things I'm thinking about but now you've got me thinking about them even more."
"Stop it!" the spider shrieked. "Ugh. I'm leaving! I'm going back to my web where your filth wont corrupt me! Thirty dollars a month. I leave you alone and you keep your mind to yourself!" The little brown spider scuttled up the side of my television and onto the wall.
"Okay, cool," I answered. "Hey, what's your name?"
Though it was further away I still heard its voice, "My mother had 573 children and didn't live to see their births. I have no name. I have never needed a name. I am Me."
"Okay. Cool. I'm calling you Peter," I answered. Peter the spider. Made perfect sense to me.
After a few seconds it replied, "Why Peter?"
"Because you're the spider, man!" I shouted and laughed.
The spider turned and looked at me with the disapproving look perfected by every mother who walks in on their son lighting up a blunt, and scuttled up to its small web in the top-left corner. Peter never talked to me again but the rent money came every month. Sometimes, in summer, I'd take out the window screens so he'd get an extra bug or two, but mostly we ignored each other.
Best roomie I ever had. | [POEM]
It wasn't a wolf, not a bat or a badger.
Eight legs and furry, we began to chatter.
"I'm a spider you see, six eyes, I'm fanged.
I won't be a bother, my payment was arranged.
And if I can say, one simple thing I need,
listen, it's important, please don't kill me."
Bewildered and dumb struck, it was beyond meaning.
But I paused and gave a listen to reason.
"I've heard your accord, and I think it's fair.
Just stay off the ground, or your life you dare.
For I've a cat you see, two paws on he,
with fangs possessed and senses keen."
So now I live with a spider named Queen
She pays for her board but eats for free.
My only issue left is her dining affairs,
webs in the rafters, her scraps on the stairs.
And maybe perhaps, one thing more.
She won't shut up, about the length of my hair. | 2021-02-18T19:37:30 | 2021-02-18T19:16:49 | 148 | 52 |
[WP] When the human's elf girlfriend broke up with him due to the difference in the lifespans, the human went on to become a mercenary. Thousands of years later, the elf, now an old woman meets the human who hasn't aged at all, known as a scourge in mortal form, even death feared to take the human. | With some struggle, Haera walked down the stairs of her cottage. The chief of her village had ordered his citizens to evacuate their homes as a fierce dragon had slothered some of the residents. But, whether there was a dragon or not, her aging legs couldn't handle the weight of her feeble body.
There was no one to assist her. Her husband had passed away 500 years back and her children had long since left. The only silver lightning was that now at least the portraits hanging on her walls had someone from her past that her family would certainly not approve of.
The young human who had been a thorn in her side ever since she broke up with him.
The fact that she kept his portrait during all that time had always been a reason for a bitter wrangle between her and her husband, but in the end, Haera still kept it claiming that the human had died many years ago and her husband had nothing to fear.
Now was not the right time to brood over her past, however. The hubbub outside made it crystal clear that something important was taking place in front of her cottage.
Her sluggish pacing ensured that when she opened her front door, whoever had caused the commotion in the village was already arguing with the chief.
"It's your duty to slay the dragon. I heard from you before, you are the scourge in mortal form, the dark mercenary who takes up on any opponent for the right amount of gold. We are elves, we can afford any price."
The hooded man was indifferent to the chief proposal. "I haven't come here for gold."
Haera doubted her ears as she heard that voice that had been rooted in her very soul. The shock was so great that when her eyes also gave her the confirmation, she began to question her own sanity.
"Haven't come here for gold? What else would someone like you do in a place in the middle of nowhere like this village?"
Haera ignored the chief.
"Leon? It can't be you." Her usually weak voice was heard by everyone as if it had regained a hint of its previous vitality.
"Haera?" Leon's face writhed in an unusual way. Haera was the last person he would expect to find after all this time.Thousands of years was too much even for an elf.
"How come it's really you? I was not supposed to be breathing anymore, much less you." Haera was utterly shocked.
Leon took off his hood without even thinking. "Too much happened after we parted our ways, Haera. But yeah, I'm still alive."
The chief couldn't stand the fact that he was being ignored, "So, both of you have a shared past? That should make things easier. The dragon is threatening this village, just state you price servant of darkness."
"I don't serve anyone." That was the last straw for Leon. "I came to this village with only one purpose. I have a score to settle."
As he spoke those words, three tendrils of pure darkness emerged from his body. At a speed faster than any human or elf could see, those tendrils engulfed the tree young elves besides the chief. In a matter of seconds, the bodys of the three elves withered like a rosebud exposed to the searing heat of the desert.
The chief could help but lose it at the sight of murder being comittted in broad daylight. "How dare you! Filthy criminal. The Elven court will not let this go unpunished."
Leon couldn't be bothered to reply.
Haera widened her eyes. "Why have you done this, Leon?"
He could feel a hint of sadness in her voice. "You know why there is a dragon attacking the village? It's because those fools have tried to steal gold from the hoard of a dragoness. They have shot an arrow into her eyes causing a wound that will take more than a year to heal. I'm I supposed to stay idle while they attempt to rob my partner?"
It was not unbelievable that greed had blinded a few young elves.
But something else was.
"Your partner?" Haera found it hard to believe that the human who she had broken up with due to the difference in the lifespans was now dating a dragon that could live hundreds of times longer than an elf.
"I met her a long time ago in my darkest days, she helped me a lot with the struggles of having a very long lifespan." Leon offered her the truth without mentioning the fact that she had been the one who had paved the road to his darkest days.
"If you knew that you could live that long, why didn't you come back to look for me?" Haera regretted those words as soon as they left her mouth. "Forget it, I was the one who doubted that we would have a future together and left you out of fear."
"Don't blame yousef, Haera, if we had stayed together I don't think I would have had the courage to enter those old ruins that contained the legacy of the first necromancer." Leon spoke from his heart. "I would've died much sooner than you, and you were way too young to be a widow."
"I guess we just weren't meant to be." She lied.
Even if he had died when she was still young, she still believed that it would have been worth it.
She deeply regretted her decision.
Leon saw through her lies, but he pretended he didn't. For he knew that nothing good would come out from exposing her. "It was nice to see you again, Haera, I will drop by some other day with Izilth so that we catch up on the past millennium."
"Please come." She beamed. "I'm all alone here since my kids left."
Just like that, the human and the elf bade their farewell as the other elves were still shocked to say anything.
Upon entering her cottage again, only a bittersweet feeling remained as she looked at the portrait of her old lover.
\[A prompt per day 2022 challenge: \[13/365\] | It’s the same old story. Man meets Elf, Man falls for Elf, she dumps him before he gets too wrinkly.
Sounds pretty straightforward, right? Most of the time, life is straightforward. You live, you love, and if you’re lucky, you die. It’s a track by Justin Bieber when he was cute. In my case, it’s freeform jazz played by a lunatic with all the time in the world.
The thing is, Loriel, you can’t just dump your soul twin. They tend to have a psychic connection. I tried going back to my Company, chasing kobbolds and chopping up wolves during the day, but eventually I had to sleep and had to dream.
I saw flashbacks of you dancing with those Elf boys in their blindingly white shirts and tight hose. I saw you giggling about your human-bothering past. And that made me sick. Right up until trolls invaded your forest, destroyed your home and killed everyone.
What happened set a fire in my blood that never stopped burning. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat. Thought I’d die from the pain. I did, however, find I could drink. A lot. I wanted them to feel what they did. They didn’t just kill you, they drained you.
One day I came upon an accident. That accident was tall, green and liked two legged snacks. I don’t know why I didn’t run. I don’t know why I filed my teeth into points. But I found out. They all did.
They gave me a name. Trollsblood. The source of my power made me the scourge of their race. Back then they called it magic. Now I’m genetically disposed to their blood. I’m not sure of either. My heart broke, my soul burned and my body changed.
They’d ambushed me in the forest. I’d drained them, killed them, ground their husks and scattered them to the trees. A voice softly called a name I’d almost forgotten and there you were.
“Damn you got old.” My voice, once reedy and human-like, had become deep and grating like the oldest of Trollkind. She flinched.
“What happened to you, my love?”
“Got dumped!” The trees shivered at my tone. “What happened to you? I saw you die!”
“You saw me hung upside down as they sapped the life from me and drank it. You left before the end. I lived.”
“One of those tight-trousered popinjays, no doubt!” I snarled so deeply, small puffs of Troll-grounds flew up from the soil.
“I’m here because my time is coming to an end, *Meleth*. After all this time, only you had my heart. Come with me.”
I sighed, bending the trunks of some saplings.
“*Nin Emel*… my head and my heart never win their battle. My head says “I care not”, while my heart says “I do”; my head says, ‘I dream of her not’, my heart knows it’s not true.”
Her face softened, her eyes like two flowing fountains.
“However… you did cast me aside. This fire inside me began long before your death.”
She grew pale as the corpse she was. I'd heard of Troll mages but never quite tracked one down. I'd always wondered how they tasted. | 2022-01-13T10:01:50 | 2022-01-13T08:56:37 | 50 | 25 |
[WP]You possess an ability that seems relatively harmless, albeit useful, at first glance, yet on a deeper look is scarily powerful. Nothing can be taken from you against your will | ‘Hey, you probably can’t remember but we had a hard time feeding you when you were younger,’ my mum said.
‘Huh?’ I replied absent-mindedly as I tried to take the empty milk bottle from my younger daughter Billie.
‘Yeah. Milk bottles, teething biscuits, sippy cups, spoons, bowls, you name it. You held onto what you wanted with an iron grip!’ My mum laughed, ‘Actually, come to think of it, we couldn’t for the life of us take anything away from you. Good thing you were relatively mellow as a baby!’
‘Oh yeah? More mellow than Billie? Impossible.’ I muttered as my daughter started screaming at the top of her lungs after I extricated the empty milk bottle from her black hole-esque mouth.
It wasn’t much but that conversation somehow triggered something in my sleep-deprived late-30s mind (who am I kidding, my mind is probably late 60s from the lack of sleep).
Thinking back, I actually couldn’t remember a time when something was taken away from me without my approval, or at least with my refusal.
‘Hey honey,’ I called out to my wife, ‘I don’t think you can stop me from playing the PS5 now that the girls are taking a nap.’
‘Why would I stop you? You need your downtime!’ She said laughingly.
Drats. My test of a hypothesis foiled by an awesome wife, who bought the PS5, actually. Such a silly way to test my hypothesis. Oh well, the PS5 beckons.
It took a couple of weeks to be reminded of this strange premise and I have a criminal to thank.
‘Hey. Don’t make a sound but hand me your wallet and phone!’ I heard an urgent ragged whisper from behind and something sharp poking into the small of my back.
Shortcut through a dark alleyway? Shortcut schmortcut… Great idea if you value 48 seconds over your life.
‘Woah dude. Just relax,’ I stammered turning around to face a shifty-looking man who looked like he would shank his grandma for a couple of bucks. And he was holding said shanking tool way too close to me for comfort.
‘I am slowly reaching into my pocket, and taking out my phone,’ I passed him my iPhone, ‘and money from my wallet.’
‘Give me the whole wallet!’ He rasped.
‘Come on man, just the cash. This wallet is a gift from my wife. Look, it has my family’s picture embossed on it,’ I showed him the outside of the wallet. ‘I have $300 that’s all yours, along with my phone. Just take that.’ I begged.
‘NO! Stop wasting time and hurry with the wallet!’ He started to raise his voice.
Suddenly, something in mellow me snapped. Maybe it was because I was alone, and my family was safe at home, or for the purposes of my origins story the higher powers chose this time to embolden me. ‘NO! TAKE THE CASH AND I AM KEEPING THE WALLET!’ I shouted back, taking even myself slightly aback.
‘Give it!’ The robber reached out and grabbed my wallet I threw the money at him but braced myself against his pulling but… nothing.
I looked down and he had thrown the knife down (probably because I was a middle-aged guy with a dad bod) on the ground and pulling at my wallet with both hands.
I looked on in dumbfounded shock as he strained and put his entire body weight behind him, trying to take my wallet but I didn’t feel anything.
Shaking myself off, I shouted in his face, ‘JUST TAKE THE MONEY ON THE GROUND AND LEAVE!’
He looked up, almost losing his balance and grip and almost comically looking at the money on the ground, at my hand holding the wallet, at me and back at the money, he let go and scrambled for the money.
Gathering the notes up, he reached for my phone and in a flash of insight, I said, ‘Leave my phone!’ And my phone just clattered out of his hands onto the floor and try as he may, he couldn’t pick it up again.
The robber gave it a couple more half-hearted attempts to pick up the phone, then suddenly shot off down the alleyway and rounded the corner.
‘What the heck?’ I said to myself in disbelief.
‘YOU SPENT $300 on a second-hand knife?!?!’ My wife asked incredulously.
‘It’s made in Japan?’ I replied meekly as the ridiculousness of my little white lie set in. After all that, everything else was static as the Event was still replaying in my head.
‘Hey Jake! Mind if I borrowed your pen?’ My cubicle mate Pete called out, already reaching for my Big Idea Design Titanium EDC Pocket Click pen.
‘No. You don’t return stationary after finishing so no.’ I spoke over my shoulder, trying to concentrate on hiding columns in the spreadsheet on my screen.
‘Come on, don’t be selfi… What the heck? Did you Superglue your pen to the table just to spite me?’ Pete complained as he tried to ‘borrow’ my pen.
‘Huh? Oh yeah? April’s Fool!’ I said, proud of my quick recovery.
‘It’s Sep, dumbass,’ Pete spat as he grabbed our other cubicle mate Jacelyn’s pen.
‘You are the dumbass,’ I whispered as I worked on the spreadsheet, eyes never leaving the screen.
I would like to say that I got really excited bout my ‘superpowers’ after those 2 episodes and tested them out rigorously and to their limits but being a dad to 2 girls is no walk in the park.
I’m also not the most assertive guy around and honestly, who wants to tell the world that they have a superpower that stops people from taking their things? It would only make people want to test out that power and take your things, thereby defeating the purpose of the superpower.
‘What happened?’ I thought to myself groggily as I forced my eyes open. ‘Why are my eyes sticking together and why is there so much noise and why do I have a bloody headache?!?’ I gave an involuntary groan.
‘He’s awake! Sir, can you hear me?’ An unfamiliar voice shouted in my ear, over the cacophony.
‘Who are you and what happened?’ I asked shakily, a cold knot forming in the pit of my stomach. I realised that I was lying down and staring at the sky, and a sweating face was looming over me. I sat up.
‘Sir, please don’t get up! You are injured and we need to check you for signs of serous injury.’ The voice said urgently while pushing me gently back down.
‘I’m fine. My leg hurts a little and I have a damn headache but I think I’m fine! Where are my daughters?’ I started to panic, trying to look around.
The voice, who I saw was a paramedic ignored my question and started shining a light in my eyes and prodding me all over.
‘WHERE ARE MY DAUGHTERS?!?’ I bellowed, pushing the paramedic off me and trying to get up.
‘Sir, please stay down. You were hit by a drunk driver…’
‘WHAT THE FUCK?!?’ I screamed! ‘WHERE ARE MY DAUGHTERS?!?’ I looked around me, the scene of carnage coming into focus.
Billie, my sweet, strong Billie was lying 10 meters away from me. And my firstborn, my pride and joy Adele, was in a heap where I could almost touch her. They seem so small. There was a flurry of activity and shouting all around them as they lay there unmoving except for the ministrations of the paramedics.
‘No…’ I whispered as I suddenly couldn’t see them for the tears in my eyes and red and blue lights flashing over and over. ‘No…’
‘No, you will not be taken from me… Please…’
‘And that was 5 years ago. You see,’ I said to the lady in the chair. ‘There aren’t too many people who can bring back the dead. There are limits to boons, even boons like mine.’
‘But one thing that cannot be taken away from me, against my will, is my thirst for vengeance. Not justice, mind you, because that ship has sailed when you were jailed for a mere 3 years and banned from driving for life. No, it’s vengeance and revenge and pain and suffering.’
‘You ready?’ I said as the lady struggled in the chair she was tied up in, her screaming muffled against the gag I stuffed in her mouth. | Many people think that telekinesis is useful, but not that dangerous. Guess what ? They are wrong. But, first things first.
When I awakened, I was euphoric. I thought that my life would turn 180 degrees and I would become rich.
What ? Thinking about money instead of some noble ideas ? Please, don't judge me so quickly.
I wasn't some superhuman xianxia protagonist nor had personality like one. I couldn't split mountains with simple attacks and fly in the sky on a sword. I was just your everyday average joe.
The kind of guy that you would pass by on the street without a second thought. Also, I wasn't young anymore. My health was on decline.
I worked in a factory from dawn till night. Inhaling a lot of dust, I was frequently running out of breath.
Even running 2 or 3 miles was a challenge for me. And those goddamned back pains, they were killing the shit out of me.
That is why I was overjoyed when I awakened. But instead of getting some isekai like cheat, I got something different - telekinesis.
And to make matter worse, my telekinesis was 'slightly weaker' than it should've been.
Instead of freely manipulating thousands of pounds, I could manipulate a tenth of a pound at most. I thought to myself - don't worry man, it will grow over time. Well, guess what, it didn't.
Instead of growing in strength, it grew in radius. By the time a month has passed, I was able to use telekinesis within the radius of 10 feet.
I thought to myself : 'Fucking great, I cannot even lift a beer with this shit.'
I was training every single day increasing my precision and radius, hoping for a miracle to come. To my surprise, it did come. But in a slightly different form from what you might expect.
It wasn't an encounter with a sealed expert, nor finding a thousand years old ginseng. Instead, it was an encounter with simple goblins. Sounds strange and dumb, isn't it ? Well, hear me out first.
On a certain sunny Sunday, I decided to relax while strolling through the forest. The weather was lovely, birds were singing and flowers were blooming. In short, it was a perfect day. Perfect for a stroll to soothe my nerves after an exhausting week in work.
I told to myself, 'Nothing can go wrong, right ?'. Wrong once more.
Thirty years ago, mana appeared on earth and human began awakening and gaining various abilities. But nothing comes without a price. Just like awakeners began to appear, monsters decided to visit humanity.
Their appearance took the form of 'gates'. Gates as the name may suggest were portals. Portals to the lovely place called abyss. Abyss was a place that looked differently with each gate.
Sometimes it looked like a scorching desert and sometimes like a green forest. Sometimes it even took form of a medieval dungeon. But one thing always remained constant - the presence of monsters.
Dragons, wyverns, gnomes, goblins, wolves of a horse size, you name it. And they have to be killed, or they will escape from the gate and wreak havoc.
To do that, you have to go inside the gate but here's funny part, once you are inside, you have to kill every single monster. Otherwise, you are fucked, cause you can't leave and no one can enter.
Why no one can enter ? It's simple, several minutes after the first human go in, the gate closes itself. And it remains closed as long as there is any human in it.
The interesting thing about gates is the fact that they appear randomly. Usually in desolate places without humans. So you can guess how surprised I was, when one appeared on top of my face.
Because of that, I automatically entered. As soon as I was in it, I saw scenery that resembled a medieval dungeon.
Then I heard a shriek and a goblin appeared in my field of vision. As soon as he saw me, he rushed towards me with rusty sword in hand.
Since I haven't had any weapon with me nor was I a trained individual, direct combat was out of question. Also, I was literally sealed inside the gate, escaping was out of question.
The only thing I could do was to somehow kill everything within this gate with this ability of mine.
Goblin was rushing towards me, while I was lost in my own thoughts. Gears in my mind were turning at fearsome speed. An idea appeared within my mind.
When goblin was sufficiently close, I used telekinesis and prayed to gods for a miracle. Suddenly, just a few feet from me, he collapsed and began shrieking and wailing in pain. Several seconds later, he died.
What I did was pretty risky, but it worked well. I used my telekinesis in place of his chest, trying to form needles within the heart made out of coagulated blood.
That was the moment I truly realized how terrifying my telekinesis can be. The rest is history.
Many years later, I became known as the strongest awakener - 'God of Death'. Nothing within a thousand feet near me could survive. It didn't matter what I encountered inside the gates.
Goblins or dragons, it didn't matter, all of them shared the cause of death. Needles within their hearts and brains.
Who would have thought that a 'simple' encounter with a goblin would change my fate.
---
If someone finds some mistakes ( with usage of times, gramatical errors or something else), please notify me in the comment. That would help me improve my future prompts.
Thanks for reading and may hydration be with you. | 2021-09-11T13:39:58 | 2021-09-11T11:56:22 | 87 | 54 |
[WP] you are the friend of a super villain. This makes being kidnaped very interesting
[WP] you are the friend of a super villain. This makes being kidnaped very interesting | “I’m going to level with you. This, this right here? It’s a bad decision. Alright?”
James emphasized his point by rattling the steel chains binding his arms. They rung out against the industrial concrete, bouncing harmlessly off of a spray painted pentagram.
“We aren’t talking about your every day bad decision either. This isn’t like buying milk close to the expiration date. This is letting the used car salesman talk you into buying a Porsche, or dumping your life savings into a casino run.”
James’ voice echoed in the abandoned warehouse (who could afford to leave these things empty? The real estate alone had to be worth something.) Several black robed cultists took no heed of his words as they lit lavender-scented candles. Their leader, a cardboard cutout from some B-list movie, dramatically shrugged off his black velvet cloak.
“Mr. Esteves.” Came a voice honed in dozens of improv theater classes. “It is you who has made the bad decision.”
“Right. This is all my fault. How could I have forgotten?” James felt his eyes twitch with the sheer effort to keep from rolling.
“So good that you understand.” The big bad turned around and, without a shred of self-consciousness, twirled his mustache.
“This is stupid.” James said without thinking. “You’re stupid.”
The villainous wannabe scowled at that. James had to admit, if the man weren’t such an idiot, he would cut an imposing figure. The black gi he wore had no sleeves, showing two powerfully built arms covered in occult tattoos. The man’s bald pate was crisscrossed with Nordic runes, one of which James recognized as the Icelandic stave for warding off foxes (“Why is that a thing?” he wondered. “And why would you get it tattooed on your skull? Have you had reoccurring problems with foxes?”)
“The time has come, James Regal Esteves. The time… for your death!”
Tall, dark and dumber drew out a ridiculously overdone knife. Despite its appearance, James was reasonably sure it could do bad things to him.
“Wait, now wait a moment!” James thought furiously. “Why are you doing this?”
Those were the magic words. Mr. Evil broke out into a rehearsed smile. What villain could pass up the chance to monologue their painfully thought out machinations? (Competent villains, that’s who. But James kept his mouth shut.)
“Ah, what harm could it do to tell you?” (So much harm, you dumbass.) “What do you see when you look upon this city? The unwashed masses, desperately searching for meaning in their meaningless lives...”
James tuned out the monologue and focused on his surroundings. There had to be a way out. If the cultists were as predictable as their archetypes, there would be some misplaced key or a convenient blowtorch. His eyes darted across the room before catching on one of the lavender candles.
The flame was burning blue.
“Ah shit.” James breathed.
“What?” The leader turned to him, offput at being interrupted.
The warehouse door exploded off its hinges with pinpoint timing. Serpants of blue flame writhed through the entryway and began engulfing the concrete floor. They crackled and spat like no natural fire would.
James gave Mr. Evil some credit. The man had stepped back, visibly shaken, but quickly regained his composure.
“Who goes there?” he bellowed.
“I do. I go here. You can tell, because I’m standing here, lecturing you.”
She was 5’6” of sarcasm and sunshine. Unlike the pretentious knock-offs in the room, she wore jeans and a loose-fitting blouse. A blonde ponytail stuck out from under a red baseball cap. And, of course, she was wreathed with the flames of hell, bound to her terrible will.
“Hey Angie.” James plastered a smile on his face.
“Hey James!” Angela beamed at him, and he could almost forget that she was far and away the most dangerous person in the room.
“Sorceress! How dare you interfere with my machinations!” the lead cultist yelled.
“Like this.” Angela motioned to the fire serpents. “You keep asking these stupid questions. Are you expecting stupid answers, or is this just normal for you?”
Bad guy numero uno turned red in the face.
“To arms my legion! Destroy the interloper-”
He was cutoff by the roaring of flame as Angela brutally and preemptively murdered the half-dozen low-level cultists. Their flesh sizzled like bacon on a hot skillet. Their bones, charred and ruined, were reduced to ash shortly after.
“Gah! Fuck!” James shrieked. The cult leader turned perfectly pale in the flickering blue light.
“Is that lavender?” Angie walked towards them with a spring in her step. Both men cringed back. “I love lavender. Just a hint.” She winked at James.
“Who… who are you?” whispered Mr. Evil.
“I’m Angie, your friendly neighborhood witch.” She gave him one of her girl-next-door smiles. “And you made a bad decision today.”
The cultist’s eyes darted to James. He remembered the knife in his hand and dove at James. His valiant effort at hostage-taking was cut short by another hungry flame demon, surging close enough to blister James' skin. The smell of burning fat overtook the lavender undertones. Angie wrinkled her nose.
“Bleh. Pretty to look at, but not so nice up close, don’t you think?”
James thought that applied to more than one horrific sight in this room. Angie sauntered over to him and admired the chains.
“Ah, James. That’s quite the sticky situation there.” Her smile reminded him of a butcher’s knife. “But since you aren’t going anywhere, I think now would be a good time to talk about us...”
And at that moment, James knew true fear. | "Hi. Sorry. I hope you're not too busy or anything. But you know. I got myself in a predicament. Well. It wasn't my fault but you know. I could use your help. I got kidnapped. And please stop laughing. It's not funny. It's very serious. Please. Can you stop laughing. I need your help. I don't know where I am. I happened to sneak this cellphone off one of the henchmen when they weren't looking. You need to like figure out a way to come and get me. Why do you need to know who took me? It's not important. Just save me. Okay. Fine. I got kidnapped by Zombieman. Okay. Very mature. I need you to stop what you're doing and come get me. You think this is funny? Okay. I was out clubbing. Yeah the one by the pier. Went out to smoke a cigarette. Okay. Now's not the time to be judging my habits. It was just half a cigarette. I'm not starting up again. Anyways. That's not important. I was outside and they showed up out of nowhere. I was with three other people. They ran. I tripped and they got me. They said they're going to eat my brain. You need to come and help. No. I can't wait that long. C'mon. Just cause they're zombies doesn't mean you can take your sweet time. Oh really? Why you think I'm calling you. I already tried to escape. Please. Just get over here. I have done so much for you. And the one time I need you, you're having a big laugh. Just typical. Just typical. Okay. Good. I'll be waiting."
"Four fucking hours. Wow. Wow. That's how much I mean to you. Four fucking hours and you show up with fucking wendys."
"At least I came. I almost forgot."
"Oh you can go to hell. Now hurry up and get me out this thing."
"Relax. I got you a baconator. So it's not like I completely forgot about you."
"I"m on my vegan diet you asshole. So you can shove that bacanator up your ass".
"Oh I'm sorry. Are cigarettes vegan too? I mean. It's okay for you to smoke. But not eat a fucking burger"
" You don't get to take that judgmental tone with me. I was this close to having my skull sawed open. This close. "
"Did you die?"
"Excuse me"
"Did you die?
"Almost. I almost died."
"But you didn't, so stop bitching."
"God. you're such an ass. Give me that fucking bag". | 2017-11-08T21:05:16 | 2017-11-08T20:46:11 | 21 | 10 |
[WP] A girl kisses her pet frog, and it turns into a price. The issue is its modern day, and the prince's kingdom hasn't existed for 1100 years. he is ill equipped to deal with the modern era. | ^(I see your typo and I choose to ignore it)
Juley came back from work to find Prince Pondicherry laying on the couch, as per usual. In the ten or so months since he'd appeared - she'd lost track of the exact date, as the day she kissed a frog out of desperation for any contact at all wasn't her proudest moment - he'd garnered a sugar gut that he certainly didn't have at the beginning, His skin had gone from a tanned tone to something far more pale and sun-lacking, and he'd grown more and more despondent with every passing job application.
"How'd it go?" She spoke up, already knowing the answer.
"*awful.*" Replied the prince, reaching for a grape from a nearby box, and following it up with a grape flavoured gumball. "A whole thirty minutes wasted in a waiting room - question, does anyone actually read those magazines *properly*?"
"Not really." answered Juley, hanging her tote onto a nearby hook on the wall. "It's just something to keep you busy."
"I read the one they had - *one!* - ten times before they called me in. I now know more about this... I'm A Celebrity, I mean what even *is* a Celebrity?"
"Famous person."
"Well, for famous people, they don't seem to have any outstanding achievement! And if they did, why on earth do they put them on an island and make them eat bugs? Especially now, in the age of..." He paused, digging through the air with his hand for an answer, before gesturing towards the various bits of garbage lining the coffee table in front of him. "*this*. It's ridiculous."
"Yeah, that's the point, I think. We get entertained by seeing famous people suffer."
"Huff. Well. Maybe that should be my job. Put one of those camera things on me, and view the life of Prince Pondicherry, monarch to a non-existent throne and keeper of a lineage no-one seems to remember."
"Hey, C'mon. Focus on the interview." Juley sat down on her own armchair (She'd thankfully got it for cheep from a close relative in a spurt of good luck, considering the timing) as the Prince gave a half-hearted groan.
"Yes, well, after all that waiting, all that reading and wondering and translating and... *thing*ing, I walk in, and the third question they ask, 'can you use a computer'? Had me trying to type in - I mean I've barely learned your language! And now I need to use a keyboard? There's not even any keys on it! Or if there are, I'm not seeing them!"
"Well hey. At least you're getting better at speaking."
"Yes, and a fat lot of good it's doing me. I think I preferred the frog life, frankly. Much less responsibility. ... Your mother called again. Told me to get a job. Again."
"She does that. She was doing that to me about when you showed up. I think she's just gotten so used to saying it that it feels weird having not to, so... You're the scapegoat, I guess."
"I'm feeling remarkably like a sacrifice to a god, yes." He sighed, taking a swig of a bottle of one substance or another - even he'd lost track of what he was drinking at this point. "You'd think. You'd think that once a curse is broken, you'd be free. And yet... I'm feeling more trapped then I was before."
"Hey, C'mon. Don't get poignant on me. You're making a lot of progress since you... turned, I guess is the word?"
"Mmm. Well. A lot of progress, and yet we still stand here. *And another thing*, I just remembered, the other interview - it's a beginner position, yes?"
"Last I checked."
"Then how in the blazing underworld am I supposed to have 5 years experience?"
Juley gave a shrug. "Ask them. Hell, ask anyone. No-one's really sure."
"*Hell*, that was the word, thank you, I'd forgotten... Still. It's ridiculous. If it wasn't for the food and this heating contraption you have running through the house, I'd be finding a way back to my own time."
"Which was... I think Aztec? Egyptian...?" She'd made one of her first ports of call the library to research about Prince Pondicherry, but details were scant, and in most cases (at least according to the Prince himself) wrong.
"Oh who knows and who *cares* anymore." He responded, bitterly. "Not them outside. That's for certain. You'd think my statue would have lasted, but no, it isn't *there* anymore."
"... Statue. Wait a minute, I just had a thought. Gimme a minute, I'm heading to the museum." She flicked her bag back on and headed for the door. "Gimme twenty minutes, and if I find what I think I'm gonna find, I'll send you a picture on my phone, see if it helps."
As she left, she heard the prince cry out in response: "YOU KNOW I CAN'T *USE* THIS DAMN THING!" She responded with "YOU'LL WORK IT OUT!"
She hoped she was right. |
“Why thank you, lady, for you have freed me from thie eternal punishment! Now you shall point me to the right direction, to my mighty stronghold!”
Alice didn’t know what to say. About a minute ago, she kissed her pet frog goodnight. She’d never done this before, but knowing he was about to be put down tomorrow, she thought she’d give him one last display of affection. The poor frog has been ill for a week, and he’s suffering. The vet said it would be best for the poor thing to be freed of his pain.
Now a freakishly tall, handsome man with a perfectly trimmed beard in what seemed like a robe you’d wear centuries ago is standing right in front of her, in her bedroom. While she was examining the man, he ranted on and on about how he’s going to award her for freeing him. “What’s up with rose scented baths?” Alice thought. Luckily, her parents aren’t home. They were out of town, but when she called her about the frog, they promised they’d return tomorrow. She hoped they didn’t decide to return faster, because they’d for sure hear the man. His voice was deep, and sounds exactly like a bad shakespearean actor. He speaks ancient English, but not so old that she couldn’t understand.
“Um, hello?”
“My name is King Edward, my lady, not – what did you call it again? Fellow.”
“Sorry – what? I said hello.”
“What is hello?”
“Okay you know what? I didn’t ask for this. Can you please get out of my room?”
“To where, I ask you? I know not the whereabouts of this..” He gestured around while subtly looking confused.
“Okay. Where are you from? I’m doing that and we’re done.”
“Such attitude for a young lady! I’m from the great Oxford Stronghold, the greatest of all castles! Now shall we return to it?”
Alice knew that place, she lived near it. It was an old brimstone castle on a grassy hill. Knowing she has no other choices, she agreed.
“Okay, I’ll show you what it is now.” | 2018-09-22T01:26:53 | 2018-09-22T00:31:14 | 60 | 18 |
[WP] After being terrified of the darkness all your life, you dealt with your fear by being friendly with it. Despite knowing it was silly, its always seemed to help. Today, after a would-be mugger rushed you, he stepped into a shadow, screamed, and vanished. | When I was five, my mom would tuck me in to bed after dinner and I would be locked in my room until it was opened again in the morning. When that door closed each night, and all light left my room, I would huddle on my bed, my back pressed hard into the corner of my room so that nothing could harm me from the back. I would cling to my blanket and wear it like steel armor around my body, squeezing my eyes shut, trying to convince myself I had made the darkness my own, that it was me, that I didn’t have to be afraid.
But I always was … for from the depths of this darkness, when I was curled up against the wall, I would be enveloped by the haunting screams echoing in the house. When early morning came around, the screaming would stop, and I would finally nod off to sleep during that brief bout of silence. Mother would shakily open the door, her face heavily coated in make-up to hide fresh bruises, and guide me down to breakfast before Daddy woke up.
Two years passed this way, and I began to hear the wailing and the screams as a cry of help from the darkness. It was lonely; it was in pain, and everyone pulled away from it. So, I started to whisper soothing thoughts to the darkness as I waiting for my cue to sleep. I told it about my family, how lately Daddy always ends up drinking after dinner, and mother started locking me in my room. I introduced it to Mr. Snuffles, my loyal plush puppy who guarded me as I slept. I told it I was there for it, and that we would protect each other, because in this pitch-black square bedroom, we were all we had.
Something changed that night. The screaming ended early, and in the morning, Mother told me that she would never lock me in my room again. She said Daddy had left to go somewhere far away and didn’t say when he would be back. I never thought much about what happened then … that is, until something extraordinary happened fifteen years later.
---
I walked down the dimly lit street on my way back home from the bar. I’d told my best friend Taylor that I didn’t need to get black out drunk just because it was my birthday, but she insisted that I needed to loosen up a bit. I didn’t particularly like the taste of alcohol, but I could tolerate it, so I agreed and went along with her plan until one of her guy friends got drunk and started making advances on me. I checked out early, and since I’d had barely three sips of some fruity concoction, I’d decided to walk the four blocks home alone.
Great choice, me.
As I was walking, I felt a warm buzz hum through my body that interrupted my stride and blurred my vision. Alcohol definitely didn’t act that fast, so either something was wrong with me, or some slimy eel had spiked my drink. I didn’t have time to work that mystery out, because a silhouette was walking quickly towards me, and stabilized me. They started saying something to me, but I couldn’t quite figure out what they were saying. I could only turn my head and scrunch my face against their bad breath. Maybe my reaction insulted them, because there was a flash of silver in their hand before my side started stinging.
Stumbling back from them, and trying to hold on to my bag, I unintentionally dragged us further toward the shadows. The pain in my side sharpened my senses though I still felt heavy and sluggish. This time I identified the silver in their hand as a knife, and rapidly backpedaled to get away. My foot slipped and I landed on my butt as his arm swung down toward me. I lifted my arms to defend myself and waited for the explosion of pain.
… but it never came. I looked up to see the shadows around me restraining- no, enveloping my attacker, and then he was gone. Vanished. No body, no slithering shadows. Everything was normal. Maybe I was going crazy. Maybe I was just drunk.
I looked down at the hand that had been applying pressure to pain on my side, and it was covered in blood. Nope, that shit was real. Seeing the blood on my hand, I felt dizzy again and black dots invaded my vision as I lost consciousness on the sidewalk. What the hell had just happened? | My face was frozen in shock, still trying to process the mugger popping out of the alleyway. Where did he even go? I cast my eyes out across the dark alley as well as the main street that I was on, no sign of him anywhere. The people who initially looked in my direction at my yelp had turned away and were going about their business again, while I remained frozen.
"Huh?" I let out, expression morphing into one of confusion as my brain processed what just happened. Must've been a glitch in the matrix? I glanced once more across the alleyway, just to be sure, and I thought I saw a mirror image of me being shocked. Oh, it was one of *those* pranks again was it? Very funny. They pulled this every now and again, cheeky buggers. As if confirming my accusation, the face (my face?) twisted into a grin, and I raised a hand to swish away the image before I continued home.
I tried to not notice the switchblade that mugger had been brandishing now laying on the ground. This is probably one of those things I shouldn't think about too much. | 2020-07-14T14:07:30 | 2020-07-14T13:45:06 | 47 | 24 |
[WP] God is actually a divorced couple with shared custody of humanity. Now it's Old Testament's turn to take the kids, and he is not happy with how New Testament has handled the last two millenniums.
Credit to Louis C.K. for the idea. | “Satan!”
“Saaaaataaaaan! Get in here.”
The Adversary appeared in My office, a boiling column of roiling back smoke and searing red flame. “And knock that off. You know it wrecks the AC”. The flames snapped out and the smoke cleared to reveal a twinkly, silver-haired grandfather type in a rough, hairy three piece suit. It even had leather patches on the elbows. After taking in this ghastly apparition for a moment I motioned for him to sit. He sat.
I picked up a parchment from My desk and flourished it at him. “What, exactly, is this shit?”
He reached over and took the parchment, and then, I swear to the other two aspects of Me, he took out a pair of gold-rimmed half-moon glasses. Where does he come up with this stuff?
He looked down the parchment, and then up at Me over his specs. “As You instructed me, I have been going to and fro in the world and walking up and down in it and keeping a close eye on Your aspect currently in charge of the…er, the *youngsters*”. He smiled. “And this is my report on His actions”. He placed the parchment carefully back on My desk. He gave it a little pat pat, as if he were proud of it, and sat back in his chair, fingers laced together over his pot belly—some things never change, anyway.
“Inactions you mean! He has been letting them run riot!”. I was half way out of my chair. The walls were shaking. Brilliant light of divine wrath blazed from the air vents. I controlled Myself, sinking down again. The room returned to normal. “When He and I went to see that counsellor she said ‘Don't believe what people say, believe what they do’ and He's been *doing* nothing, so far as I can see.”
Satan shrugged. “He gave me a bit of a run-around for a couple of years, there is that. Proper ‘get thee behind me’ stuff. You know we never got along. I still get back ache sometimes where He…”.
I scowled. “What do I pay you for, again?”.
“You don't pay me.” He winked. “But if You did, You'd pay me to tell the truth, plain and simple. However painful”. When he said *painful* there was just the briefest flicker of that old gleam in his eye.
I picked up the parchment again. “So, when I left them with Him they'd had very detailed, really, very detailed instructions on how to behave, and He said, He said that He wasn't going to abolish them but to fulfil them, and now look!” I was almost in tears. “Look at this!” My finger jabbed the parchment. “The world basically runs on bacon! Everyone is wearing mixed fibres!” Satan coughed a little cough and picked some invisible lint from his genuine hand-woven Harris tweed trousers. “Alright, *almost* everyone. Those little idiots are even circumcising girls! If you can believe that.” Satan smiled a smile that I was pretty sure I didn't like. I was getting wound up. “And what is He doing about it? Nothing!” My fist shook the table.
Satan sucked his teeth and said “There are some campaigns…” But I was up out of my chair, the walls blew away in the gale of My anger, the whole palace of many mansions was collapsing around us, the very ground shook beneath our feet. “Well,” I roared, “they're *Mine* again now! We'll see about all this!” Celestial light blazed around us. I launched Myself into the air. “There's going to be some gnashing of teeth and wailing and rending of garments when I've finished with them!”
Satan tipped this head back to watch Me, his eyes narrowed and his face split into a wide, wide grin. | "You're too nice New. I've been telling you that for two thousand years now. You're too nice and these humans are walking all over you. I mean look, there are atheists everywhere. It's like you don't even care. You know what happened last time atheists cropped up during my period of custody? Fire. Golden calf? How about fire. Don't like my rules? How about desert and sky food. Invent sodomy? How about fucking fire! See, you may be the parent they turn to when they want forgiveness, but they'll never mature that way. You mature with fire."
"Tsk tsk," New said from the other line. "I still have them another 1000 years Old. And I'm not sure if you've read Revelation, but...I saved all the learning experiences for last." | 2015-06-04T23:02:26 | 2015-06-04T21:57:16 | 38 | 13 |
[WP] You and your significant other are running for your lives from a slasher killer. Suddenly your partner ducks into a door and locks it behind them leaving you behind. You slump against the door preparing for the worst. The killer walks up and says "Wow what a jerk. You ok?" | We had been running from the hatchet wielding man for what felt like miles. After I managed to jimmy the door to the campground office, my fiancé ran in and locked the door behind her. My pleas fell on Sarah’s deaf ears. Slumping to the ground, I felt the driving rain on my already soaked pajamas. Betrayed and confused, I questioned whether the last six hours were even real. The woodland reverie felt so far off.
We had linked up with Kelly and Jim, a couple of campers like us. They had a raging campfire going at the next lot over and came to our site to invite us. It looked like a good time so we brought our cooler loaded with beer and meat. They had s’mores. At least I had a good last meal.
Just as we finished the last marshmallow, the rain started. Jim quipped to me that “bad weather never had better timing, huh Ryan?” The delivery was perfect, complete with his country bumpkin accent. We were out of beer and food and it was getting late; Jim was right and I told him it was probably time to hit the sack anyways. We exchanged numbers and parted, “we gotta do this again sometime guys, Kelly and I had a blast with y’all.”
“Yeah Jim let’s plan a trip together sometime.”
God, how stupid those words sound now. I can see the man walking towards me again. That trip will never happen.
Sarah and I were getting ready for bed when the man emerged from the tree line with the axe held high above his head. As he approached, I searched frantically for my own hatchet. He was too close, and we were out of time. “Sarah, we gotta run! Maybe we can get to the office, call 911!”
Against the door, I heard Sarah slam the phone down. Through her sobs I could gather that the line was dead. Makes sense, the attendant must’ve killed the generator on their way out.
It’s funny the places your mind goes in times like these. All I could think “at least now I get why Hemingway was such a fucking bummer.” Like, all his shit just boiled down to the fact that sometimes you just get hacked to bits for no good god damned reason. You live your whole life and then sometimes it ends just like that.
The man is closer now, larger to my eye than the last time I picked up my head.
You never know your last sunrise when you see it. You never know your last beer when you drink it. You never know the last new friend you’ll ever make when you meet them.
You make plans, never even acknowledging that there are no guarantees.
Because, sometimes You. Just. Die.
The man’s feet came into my vision. Standing over me he said
“Wow, what a jerk! She locked you out here in the rain?!”
It was Jim’s voice that spoke! Not even Hemingway could write this! New best friend turned axe murderer turned back into...
“Wait, Jim...what the hell is going on man?!?”
“Shit, Ryan I could ask you the same thing. Ive just been trying to give you back your hatchet, you left it at our campsite.”
Ho. ly. shit. “You were chasing us through the woods like a madman!”
“Y’all ran off like stray cats, nothing but your PJs on. Drunk as y’all are, rain as it is, you’d be dead from exposure before the night even hit its coldest.”
“B but why in the ever loving hell did you carry the hatchet all this way?!”
“Ryan, they got mountain lions out here. They’ll stay away from our campsites but they just love it when ya wander off of one in the middle of the night. Besides, the campsite is just right over there, can’t be more’n a few hundred feet. It’s not like I was trackin ya for miles! Come on bud, let’s get ya back to the campsite. Kelly woulda just pissed her pants laughing at all this.”
Stammering, speechless, and soaked, I noticed the blood on the hatchet and the splatter on his hands. “What...what do you mean ‘would have’.” | Our pace's were matched when I felt a slight push down... In disbelief I looked up as I fell. Running for his worthless life my new husband had pushed me... I screamed at him " Rodger you bastard I should kill you myself!"...
I struggled to get up but I felt a sharp pain in my left knee. I thought to myself Rodger you fuck. I heard the crunching of snow behind me so I rolled over to see who was about to end my life..
Then he stopped with his bloody hook in his hand and says "Wow what a jerk. You ok?"... I stumble over my words and answer with shaky "yeah I think so..but I hurt my knee". The masked killer helps me up and then hands me my beanie saying "I guess your lucky I don't kill red heads" as he started heading to the cabin I called out "Hey!" And I threw the keys at him "you'll need these"
He caught the keys and chuckled a bit and then motion for me to join him.. I shrugged my shoulders and hobbled after him.
This is my first time writing something out like this. So any constructive criticism anyone has is absolutely welcome.
Edit: I added the last bit for closure..lol | 2020-10-10T11:36:21 | 2020-10-10T10:08:04 | 27 | 15 |
[WP] You have the peculiar ability to pause time. Nothing can move, including yourself, meaning all you get is time to think. Today you find yourself paused with a bullet right in front of your eyes. | I felt my body freeze and space around me contort, my body's sensations simultaneously ceasing and perpetuating themselves. Like when you sit in hot water until it feels lukewarm, the same stimulus causes your body to go numb quite quickly.
The chill breeze in the night air now still, every leaf and particle of dust motionless, suspended in the air. My sense of balance had left me long ago. I had been here for what felt both like 5 seconds and 5 hours; though, here, time is effectively meaningless. The ground beneath me at a slight angle, with me having attempted to throw myself to the ground to avoid what was so close to the bridge of my nose I had a hard time focusing on it with both eyes.
This little piece of copper, smaller than the end of my pinky, would be what removed me from this world.
Of course I decided to go for a walk tonight, and of course I had to run into a trigger-happy mugger. My wallet was already in his hand, what did killing me even do for him?
Well, I have all the time in the world, at least. I have to be able to find *some* way out of this, surely? I've gotten out of predicaments in the past.
In the 5th grade, I was playing soccer and slammed into another kid. In the tumble, I paused out of panic and saw that, if I continued to fall, my arm would be snapped like a twig under the other one, who easily had 50 pounds on me. I was always scrawny. I got ready to contort myself, and as soon as time unpaused, I managed to avoid the broken arm, settling instead for a sprained wrist.
In my freshman year of college I was at a party and flirting up a girl. Little did I know she had a boyfriend - and little did she know he was also there. I saw him coming in the reflection of a window, and dodged his suckerpunch, tripping him and getting the hell out of there.
My first day headed to work some day drunk ran a stop sign going 80 miles an hour down residential streets; I'd never been an exceptional driver, but I'm sure to everyone who witnessed it I looked I belonged in a Formula 1 race.
All these thoughts and memories slammed into me one by one. The saved conversations, avoided stutters, managed anger, and passed exams. I felt them come quickly, and leave just as fast. If tears could well in my eyes they would; I settled for that tightening in your throat before a sob.
There was no way out of this, I thought. Absolutely no way out. I could do a lot with time, but not everything.
Something in the depth of my soul shuttered. For a fraction of a second - a fraction of a fraction - I felt something new.
It came again. And again. Each time growing in intensity and longevity. Eventually it felt like a pulse firing so rapidly it became sustained, and I figured out exactly what it was. I was fall-
*OW.*
I felt my tailbone slam into the concrete sidewalk, and a spike of pain ran up my spine, and I reflexively shot a hand to the site of the impact. Not a second later though, confusion ran through me. I should've been dead before I hit the ground.
I looked up to see that bastard's face contorted in the same smug, nast grin. I saw the bullet suspended judt where it had been. The same leaves in the same places, the same specks of dust, the same car headlights off in the distance.
But, I found myself having moved. I was actively moving. Something in my body felt different, like getting a massage and that tight muscle you didn't even know was tight *finally* being loose.
I stood up, still wincing from the pain, but in good spirits considering the alternative. I clenched and unclenched my fists, feeling the air resist my hands in a new way. I felt the concrete push back against my steps differently; the cushioning in my shoes reacting to my steps.
Slamming my fist into the criminal's gut, I took back my wallet, threw his gun into the bushes, and gave one last finishing touch before ducking around a corner and unpausing time.
His yelp and clear fall onto the concrete was like music to my ears, complimented by his struggling to remove his underwear pulled over his head before he ran off the other direction.
With this new development in my abilities, things were about to get *very* interesting. | I stared at it for a couple of minutes and was absolutely baffled. I mean, I get into dangerous situations on a daily basis, being able to think faster than the speed of light and all that stuff is pretty useful for a mercenary. But, this was different. This was a split second life or death scenario.
I need to calculate this with absolute certainty that it's gonna work. If I make even the slightest move incorrectly, game over. If I time this wrong, game over. If I even miss one number, game over. So, let's think.
The bullet is about 5 or 6 inches away from my face, so if I slide my head to the right I should be able to dodge it, right. NOPE! There are three more bullets ready to hit me there, too. Maybe the left? There are four guys with their guns aiming that way, and on top of that, their guns are firing. Oh, maybe I could duck? No, there's one more asshole with a gun aiming at my torso. Well, shit. WAIT! I'll just drop! All the way to the floor, then I can get my gun. So, let's do this.
HOLY FUCK, IT WORKED! Ok, now I just need to off these bastards, and get my money. Alright, aim -FREEZE- fire. Aim -FREEZE- fire. And aim -FREEZE- fire. Ok, they're all dead. Haha... never again. | 2022-12-26T22:23:29 | 2022-12-26T17:53:49 | 18 | 12 |
[WP] Two people discover a fountain of youth. The problem is that upon drinking the water you turn back into an infant. The two decide to take turns raising each other in order to live forever until one day one of them decides to break this agreement. | Finally I had the courage to approach the little boy, who was drawing doodles on a blank piece of paper. He was so focused on his work that he didn't notice me.
"Tommy", I said after a few seconds making up my mind again, "there's something we need to talk about".
"What's the matter aunt Laura?" he answered with a look of curiosity on his eyes. It crushed me every time he called me *aunt*. We had long ago decided that it was the better way to make things work until the one who drank the liquid last had grown up enough to explain him about our never-ending cycle. But lately the word had became too hurtful for me. I coulnd't stand it anymore. And I had to tell him, no matter how hard it was.
I looked at him. He was barely 8 years old. How many times did I see him as an 8 year old? I had lost the count. I couldn't tell him about our findings. I couldn't tell him about the secret we were carrying along. I couldn't tell him that I wasn't his aunt. He wasn't ready. He wasn't mature enough. He wouldn't understand. I couldn't tell him, but I was going to.
"Tommy... Thomas", I corrected myself. "What I'm about to say is awfully hard to understand but it's very important that you pay attention and try to. You are a clever boy. Do it for me, alright?". The look on his eyes didn't change. I stopped myself. There should be a better way to explain. There should be a better way to tell him that I couldn't go on with this lifestyle. How many years have we raised each other? How many times have we taught the other things they had taught us before? Here he was, Thomas, my beloved husband, or so he was centuries ago, looking at me with a picture of a poor-drawn car. Every time we went through the cycle, he would become a magnificient artist and would make incredible portraits for me. Often, *of me*. And whenever I reached the age to have a more romantic relationship with him, he was ready to become young again. And so I was left with a young child, my love unfulfilled and a whole life of unhappiness to raise him. But I did it for him. Because when we found the fountain of youth, and I rushed to try it out, he was the first to take care of me. And my love for him made me take care of him when it was the time. And now it was time to end it.
"Thomas...", I repeated. "There is no easy way to say this. You are very strong, incredibly strong. And you will have to be."
"Why? Need to open a bottle of pickles?"
"No", I laughed. His sense of humour was also remarkable and being 8 didn't stop me from making me laugh from time to time. I burst into tears, not because of the joke, but rather because of all the feelings that were hitting me at that moment.
"You need to lift the car? I can do it!", he answered to my sudden tears, while standing up and lifting his arms in the air, mimicking a superhero.
"No, Thomas. The car is okay where it is. Look, I have important things to do. Adult things. It's going to...", my voice was cracking so I had to stop, "... it's going to take some time. I will be gone for some time, honey."
"Where are you going?", his face clearly showed how upset he was.
"Somewhere far away, I can't tell you now. But you will understand when you get older. I have set everything so old Samantha can take care of you and help you out, but you now she's a bi toot old so you'll mostly have to take care of yourself. It won't be easy but I've tried to sort everything out so you don't have any problems, okay honey?".
I took a deep breath and looked at him. He was about to cry. He knew something was going on and that it wasn't just me going on vacation. But he was too young to figure it out. He was too young to make big questions. He was just too young.
"Are you going to die, aunt?", he finally cried out of his voice.
"Oh god, honey. No, no. No, no, no, I'm not dying. I'm okay. Look!", I lifted my arms in the air, "I am strong! I'm going to be fine. And so will you. I promise."
"But... I'm going to miss you aunt Laura."
"I'm going to miss you too, sweetie. I love you. Remember this. I LOVE YOU. With all my heart. And I know you will do great. That's why I'm going to ask you for something else."
"What is it?", he said while wipping the tears off his face.
"I'm going to ask you to take care of someone else."
"Who?"
"It's a little girl, a few years younger than you. She will be very scared and confused, so you'll have to calm her down."
"What's her name?"
"Laura. Just like me. She'll depend on you so take care of her and love her. She will love you back, as much as I do."
"But I don't know her. I can't love someone I don't know! I don't want you to go, aunt. I love you! Please don't go..."
"You will know her better. And don't worry, Thomas. You'll only need a few years with her until I come back. After all... we are plenty of time."
| At the end I wasn't sure what I was doing.
Was I really doing this for me anymore? I knew he needed me, but did he think I needed him too?
See, the problem with this fountain wasn't just that you became an infant, it's that you also acted like one. Your brain developed just like a child's with your memories coming back at the same rate as you aged. So by the age of three you only ever remembered what your past lives remembered at that age, and so on.
By now it was getting complicated, though. Each lifetime added another layer of memories that made it harder to control, let alone nurture each other in our youths. Imagine a 5 year old with 500 years of experiences.
Now it was just habit. We'd each done this so many times, and every year we were explaining the situation to each other earlier than the last. By now he understood our arrangement by the age of 9, even though he wouldn't remember making it for another 16 years.
But now I was getting to that age, the one filled with regret. We both found the fountain at the same age, 25. When he first drank all I could do was take care of him. There was no getting back to civilization from all the way out there, we had to make do with just our surroundings. Once he reached 25 and I 50, I drank and he raised me. 'Course I never thought once we first found this thing that I'd just be getting older afterwards, but that's life I guess.
Yes, the problem now was that every lifetime at about this age I started getting these doubts flooding back to me, all at once. Each year kindled the next, and by this cycle I was about ready to snap.
I think I knew this was going to be my last iteration, the body I'd die in. Once he hit 25 again I explained it to him and, well, try telling a 25 year old you've given up on youth. An so for the first time he drank again for the second time in a row.
But now I'm an old man. For the first time I live in only one consciousness and my mind is at ease. The only memories I have of these years are the one I'm making.
He drank again for the third time in a row, but by the next time he does it he'll have to find someone else to partner up with. I don't think he'll live forever, though. I know one day he'll join me, and live the rest of his life the first time, for the last time.
| 2015-02-14T06:07:27 | 2015-02-14T05:56:58 | 43 | 30 |
[WP] A battle mage is stranded on a desert island
Unfortunately, most of their spells are designed for combat. No teleportation or other magical transportation, and no astral projection or other magical communication. How does the mage get back to civilization, Castaway style?
I'd also love to hear about how they got *onto* the island in the first place, if you'd rather go that route. | Westen's brow furrowed as he concentrated on his task. His left palm felt the searing heat of fire, years of training numbing him to any pain it might cause, his right palm felt a cool chill of the darkest winter. Before him salt water bubbled up from a iron pot he had salvaged from the ship wreck. Above the pot, a misty orb of ice grew larger every minute as he caught the evaporating water in his frost spell.
Finally, once the undrinkable salt water had been evaporated from the pot Westen let the heat drain from his left hand. He gasped as the orb suddenly dropped from the air. With a quick dive he caught it before it could land on the rocky beach. Sharp pain prodded at his chest and stomach, but he was unscathed.
"Twice in one day." He muttered, examining the orb of clean ice, "Almost." He carried the orb over to a second, smaller pot and dropped it inside. He was tempted to melt it right then and there to have a drink, but knew the sun would make quick work of it, and he needed the energy. Surviving the storm, and the heavy waves crashing into jagged rocks had left him exhausted enough. His joints still aching and the wounds to his arm and his foot still tender. With what little knowledge he had of healing magic, still more than the average man, he was able to seal the wounds. But only just. And likely they would leave ugly scars.
He examined his camp. Plenty of wood here. Two iron pots that had washed up with half the ships wreckage. Unfortunately all food, and wine must have went down with the other half. Some luggage had come with the pots. Shoes, pants, some shirts. None of it fit the mage who was tall and quite lanky, but he figured he might be able to do something with them.
He was alone. That was most concerning. Where his powers in magic are strong, his muscles for lifting were weak. He doubted very much that he could hoist together a raft, he was hoping at the very least he would have the strength to pile together some sort of shelter.
Caws of sea birds turned his eyes away from his meager camp. Westen had never been a fan of poultry but he assumed that it might be one of the few means of sustenance out here. He needed to keep his strength up if he was to keep turning sea water to drinking water.
The birds flapped their way over the tall, branchless tropical trees, there was a sort of jagged mountain in the distance. If he was in better health, he'd be confident to climb it. Perhaps in a few days. He sighed and walked over to a large rock and took a seat. His eyes lazily watching the orb of ice melt away in the hot sun. "Fire and ice. I can make those." He pondered, "So I can drink and eat, considering the birds are here year round." His eyes shifted up to the lazy sea, so calm that you'd hardly imagine it was capable of a violent storm, "Clothes I have that don't much fit, but could be full of string. String to catch fish. Maybe a net." He nodded slowly, and tugged at his beard, "That at least I do not have to worry about."
He glanced over his shoulder towards the tropical forest. It was a small island, he very much doubted there were any large predators here. Birds and bugs, perhaps some lizards. He hoped not too many snakes. Fire could bring down some trees. Maybe he could fashion a hut. He turned back to the sea, but a hut that could withstand a storm like that? Temporary shelter then. He turned back towards the jagged mountain, more of a hill really. Would be a hill where he came from, but here on this island it was a mountain. Perhaps it would have a cave? At least get him on high ground. High ground, he tugged at his beard and examined the beach, rocky stones gave way to sand. He knew a thing or two about making glass. He was no master craftsman, but he understood the concept. He scooped up a piece of drift wood from by his feet, it was light, he turned it over and examined it longways, it was hollow.
*Two weeks later*
Westen gasped and panted, finally examining the island from above the trees. He flexed his toes in his makeshift sandals. He was quite proud of them. Using the rubber soles of two pairs of shoes much too small for his feet, and some leather strips to attach them to his own feet. The soles had been melted together and hammered flat with a rock. Oddly comfortable. He was quite proud. They were much better for walking over these jagged rocks than his own torn, cloth shoes.
He turned back towards the mountain, he had hardly made it a quarter of the way. A hill really, not a mountain. But he was high enough to test his invention. He set down a bag he had made from a couple mismatched shirts and pulled from it a hollow tube of plywood, on one end of it he had labored to make a glass lens using a hollowed out stone as a mold. It took countless attempts, but he finally had just enough luck.
He laughed as he peered through his telescope. It was far from the quality you would expect from a professionally made one, but it did the job it was meant too. He could see his meager camp, and the horizon was just that much clearer. The first step in his plan. Westen was quite proud of himself, quite proud. | Liliana Icemagus was exactly what her surname implied. She was an ice-mage, a mage specializing in all things related to frozen water. Which was a shame, really, because she was sort of in a desert.
She thought it was a kind of divine irony, really. One moment, she was in the midst of a pitched battle over some unicorn horn relic, or maybe it was that someone's dead aunt was reanimated in some horde of the undead. Her side was winning, so she let her reflective wall of ice down, readying herself to help deal the final blows. She was immediately struck in the chest with a pink bolt of teleportation, and the scenery changed from plains to desert.
Liliana walked a bit, then a bit more, staring down at the sand which was rapidly overtaking her robe. She was staring down at the sand when she walked headfirst into a palm tree.
"Sorry," she mumbled, before realizing that it was a tree, and not the talking kind. The sound of waves reached her ears, and she looked up to find the blue sea. She had been teleported to a deserted desert island.
The ice-mage was quite pleased with the turn of events. She could do nothing about sand, but water? She could do the hell out of water. But how would that work? She couldn't very well freeze the entire ocean, or even make an ice bridge - if she had that kind of power, she wouldn't have been a schmuck on the front lines, after all. A raft, she decided, was the best choice. Liliana quickly froze herself up a sheet of ice about five feet in diameter, and set off.
She had already drifted too far to see the shore before realizing that she didn't bring any way to power or steer her ice raft.
"Hmm."
She thought and thought, and the sun fell lower on the horizon. Finally, her stomach informed her brain that she ought to come up with something quickly, and so it did. She released a bit of her control in the back of the ice sheet while freezing an equal amount in front of her. She got to her feet and walked forward one step, then refocused again. A step, refocus. A step, refocus.
A day later, she was a quarter of the way back to the mainland when some spirit of the ocean or another got irritated at how long she was taking, and jetted her on a current the rest of the way. | 2015-12-18T07:11:29 | 2015-12-18T06:53:03 | 40 | 12 |
[WP] After traveling for the first time in your time machine, you go back 100 years only to discover that the black and white pictures were because everything REALLY WAS black and white. Intrigued, you decide to go back before photography was invented... | "What the fuck...?"
I rubbed my eyes, or at least I could feel myself doing it, but... There was nothing... Everything was darkness, yet I could sense I was somewhere. Where exactly, I don't know. I can't even describe whether I was standing, sitting or lying. Everything was dark.
It wasn't black. It was... *nothing*.
I wanted to go back to 3666 BCE. There was really no reason for picking that specific year. I was hoping to see if I'd see what my town looked like before civilization came knocking, but how do you see anything here?
"Hello?" I called out.
I felt a presence, but I couldn't see it.
"Hello?" I called out again. The presence came closer. Suddenly, fear came over me. I tried to run in whatever direction it was I was facing, but I don't think I moved. A hand or...? Something touched what I feel was my shoulder. It pulled me towards it. I tried to fight it, but I couldn't sense what the outcome was. All I know is I didn't feel like I was where I was before.
"Stop! Stop!" I screamed. The hand was practically clamped on my left shoulder.
"Please!" I begged. "Please let me go!"
"SILENCE!" bellowed a voice so powerful it shook me. It felt like it was coming from everywhere yet nowhere.
I felt myself get on my knees. I don't know if I really did. I just know I went about the motions I'd identify as knee bending.
Several moments passed in complete silence. Silence that felt deafening. No noises, not even my own breathing. It felt like an eternity before the voice spoke up again.
"Who are you?" it demanded.
"I-I-I... I'm Marvin Westfield. From, uh, fr-from the year 2334," I whimpered. I could feel tears streaming down my cheeks, but in the blackness, I couldn't tell.
"Mar-Vin?" the voice pondered. "What is a year...? How did you get here?"
"I time traveled... I traveled through time, sir," I said. I figured the voice was that of a man's.
"Time? Huh... This is a concept I've considered but didn't think would work... Well, Mar-Vin, you have become capable of undoing all that is done?" it asked. It seemed annoyed but not angry. Curiosity was in its ubiquitous voice.
"Sir?" I asked. I tried to feel before me, but I couldn't feel anything even as much as a breeze of air.
There was silence for quite a bit. I felt my knees getting tired, but what the hell was I even on? I couldn't feel a floor.
Finally, the voice said, "I never anticipated this. I'm lost for words. It's not really making any sense..."
I felt like a broken record. "Sir?"
"If this creature can travel back without repercussions, that must mean... It means there's another timeline. So if there's another timeline... Then..." It was obviously thinking aloud. "Is there another me...?"
"Sir, I mean.. I mean you no harm. If-if I may, I'd, uh, just like t-t-to leave, sir."
"This means there's an alternate reality. There may be infinite alternate realities.." Again, thinking outloud.
I felt like I was turning without control over my body. I was being turned to a specific direction. I looked about me, but of course, there wasn't anything to see.
"Well," the voice said, "I will go through with my plan. I can't continue this existence of non-existence. I need a purpose."
I felt so confused. I just wanted this over with. Why did I choose to go back 6,000 years? Why?
Suddenly, the darkness began brightening. There was still nothing there, but I could feel it with all my sense. There was brightness.
Then the voice bellowed, "LET THERE BE LIGHT!!!" | I arrived in what I assumed is Florence during the Renaissance. I assumed so because whenever I look, everything seems to be painted in the styles of artists from that era. By painted I mean everyone and everything seems to be a form of oil or watercolour or whatever these artists used to paint. I look at my hands. They look flaky, like dried oil pastels. This might take some getting used to.
Everyone was staring at me. I realized that I was still dressed from the 21st century. I'm getting nauseous. Everything seems to be moving in stop motion and its weird when I'm moving at the same rate as that too. I vomited and realized that I just created a huge greenish reddish blob on the brown ground. I can't stand this.
I passed out. | 2015-11-12T19:08:50 | 2015-11-12T15:08:58 | 125 | 16 |
[WP]: Suddenly, everyone with tattoos gains powers related to the tattoo. Tattoos of flames, you control fire. A tattoo of a gecko, you can climb on walls. All dudes with "tribal" tattoos have strangely bonded together. |
“How bad is it?” Dave, my coworker asked. I normally wore a short sleeve shirt to work to show off my tattoo sleeve with pride as I had only gotten it finished last month. I worked in IT but I worked mostly away from the public so tattoos were okay. Dave and a few others had them as well. However, everything changed with the new weather patterns. Animals acted differently, weird weather changes, and people with tattoos were changed. How? I got a full arm sleeve of a circuit board with wires and metal bones to celebrate five years at my job. I rolled up my shirt sleeve and Dave nearly fell out of his chair.
My entire arm had become a cybernetic arm, complete with wires and working electricity. Dave stared at it and finally asked, “Does it hurt?” I shrugged, “Yes and no. I can’t feel as good as my left hand but it works. I tried to figure out the workings last night. Adjusting the screws and wires doesn’t hurt but a short stings like a mofo.” Dave’s eyes widened, “You tried working it like a computer?” I looked back at him, “Uh yeah Dave, it’s what I do. Plus it’s my right arm, what else was I going to do with my free time.” He shook his head but said, “Fair enough.” I looked at his tattoos of snakes, “How about you? Any change-“ in the blink of an eye his hand whipped and picked up a stapler and placed it on my desk. Blink wasn’t an exaggeration. A long tongue slipped out of his mouth and he quickly yanked an empty coffee mug and spit a black vile substance in it. He placed it on my desk and sat back down. When the hell did he stand up?
I looked into the coffee cup and back at him. His tongue had gone back to normal. “Don’t drink that.” He said stone face. “Huh.” Was all I could get out. Before I could say anymore Ted, a short and lanky guy with a combover interrupted us. “So how you liking your new abilities?” He looked at my arm and scowled, “Oh of course you would get something cool.” He scoffed. I glared back at him, “Still deciding Ted. What happened to you?” He laughed sarcastically, “Oh remember that Chinese tattoo I got? The one symbolizing fire?” Dave nodded, “What did you burn you dick hairs?” He punched the cubicle wall weakly, “I wish!” He held his hand over Dave’s desk palm down and screamed, “Fire!” a large well cooked egg roll popped appeared out of his hand and fell onto Dave’s desk.
We all three stared at the desk and finally I looked at Ted, “I don’t think that means fire.” A female voice from behind him said, “Told you.” Michelle from software, who was born and raised in china before coming to the states, had been telling him for weeks that his tattoo didn’t mean fire. She also warned him not to get drunk and hit on the tattoo artist. She sat there smiling in silence. Ted glared at her but before he could say anything she rolled up sleeve and showed off her Chinese lettering. “This means fire.” She raised a finger and projected a small flame from it. “This means winds.” She pointed the same finger at Ted and sent a gust of wind out. I leaned my chair out and got a better look at her. Something had been off about her hair. Finally, I saw two objects, small and dark, sticking out of her hair. “Michelle, why do you have horns?”
She looked at me but didn’t say anything. She looked around nervously and said, “I have a little devil tattoo.” We all stared at her for a few moments then Dave asked, “When did this happen? We’ve never seen a devil tattoo on you.” She picked at a cubicle wall and avoided eye contact, “It’s not in a place I show off.” She stated quietly. | Crime rates exploded when the ink activated in our bodies. Those who didn’t have tattoos before tried getting one so they could have a power of their own, but it didn’t work; so they took to belittling us, making us all out to be criminals. And what did I do? I did what any sane person would do, I hid. But even years after the ink activated the crime rates where still soaring, the people with tattoos where the only ones who could fight people with tattoos, but law enforcement was not willing to hire anyone with a tattoo. So I put on a mask and showed my tattoos and fought those criminals myself. And the stigma began to change. Because I was a hero, why couldn’t the people like me be heroes too? All it took was one person doing the right thing. | 2019-05-07T09:13:59 | 2019-05-07T07:52:07 | 65 | 43 |
[WP] Magic has its own mind and will, the key to being a great wizard is not years of careful study of the arcane arts but the ability to properly communicate, negotiate and most importantly compromise | When people find out that you're a wizard they always expect you to do magic for them like you're some kind of court jester.
Just like the little girl that was expectantly following me around.
“Are you gonna use magic to unlock that door?” she asked excitedly.
“No,” I said, reaching into my coat.
She stepped closer.
I Inserted a tension wrench into the bottom of the keyhole and pressed up slightly. Then I slid a pick in and swiped up at the pins well, turning the wrench in the direction you would turn the key.
Click, and just like that the door was open.
The girl had a frown on her face. “Wasn't that magic?” she asked.
“No,” I responded, stepping into the room.
As expected she followed me in. I sighed, “Why not make yourself useful and search the room for anything strange.”
“Strange like what ?”
“Anything that looks weird,” I said.
She started exploring the room, well I went to the window and stared out at the sunset. You could see most of the keep from up here.
It's likely nothing serious but I've had a weird feeling ever since I arrived. Should I use divination? No, I really don't wanna deal with him unless I have to.
“I found something.” the girl yelled.
I didn't expect her to find anything it was probably something dumb.
I stepped over to her. She had pushed away a few things revealing a spell circle carved into the floor.
I bent down studying it.
“This is weird right?” She asked.
“Ah ..yes good job.”
Damit, this looked serious, could this be something unrelated?
I stood up and considered the room more closely. It was in a good location out of the way and ignored it was locked and was big enough.
“Is something wrong?” she said, looking at me with worry.
“Maybe. Do you know if anyone comes up here?”
“Sorry no i don't,” she said looking down.
“It's Ok.” I said.
Dame, I am gonna have to deal with him.
I took a breath and pulled on my link with Arx.
Arx's materialised immediately. He was one of my contract spirits. He was a black ball of floating flame with a blue outline. Arx opened his one eye and spoke “So what do you want?”
The girl stared up in wonder but didn't say anything.
“I want two things: Identify this summoning circle and tell me when last it was used.”
Arx acted like he was thinking it over, “Ok but then i want four favours,” he said.
I stared at him. “Ok three favours,” I continued to stare. “Look, I'm not going lower than three and that's that.”
If this was what i thought it was, i might not have much time. Arx closed his eye and waited. I glanced at the window noting the sun's position.
“Look, I'll give you two favours and I'll let you wander around for a whole day.”
He seemed to think about it. It was hard telling the body language of a fire.
“two days,” he said.
“No, one day and if you don't like that you're dismissed,” I countered.
“Fine” Arx relented and shot over to the circle sweeping around it a few times.
“Yea, what you have here is a summoning circle for what looks to be a shadow runner.”
“Looks to be?”
“I can't be completely sure. And the last time it was used was today.”
“Fuck,’ i said rubbing my head.
“Bad,” Arx said.
“Let's go, and Arx, you're dismissed,” I said, exiting the room and rushing down the tower.
As I entered the courtyard I approached a patrol of guards “listen up we have a big-”
a piercing scream that echoed throughout the keep interrupted me.
Great, it's starting already.
“Three of you stay with the girl, the rest come with me.” I commanded.
Blood and bodies lined the hallway. I held my finger to my lips and looked at the guards. They all nodded in response. The door to the study at the end of the hallway was slightly open. I signaled the guards to stand ready in front of the door. I slowly stepped inside. And there It was hanging from the ceiling a humanoid figure with red raw scraped skin, wrapped in darkness.
My eyes scanned the room. A fireplace sat in the far corner. I reached out and started pouring magic into it. Come fire rise and roar, fill the room with yourself.
No, no I can't, I will burn out.
I pictured the fire shooting up and rushing across the ceiling. Come come, you will not burn out.
I am scared.
Don't be, it is only a breath and then you can grow small and live longer.
I pictured it again. The fire crackled then Swept over the top of the room.
The shadow runner hit the floor, its muscles started to spasm, it bolted upright and charged towards me.
I stepped back into the hallway behind the guards and poured magic into the stone floor.
Change shape, change form.
We are what we are, we cannot.
Change and then change again why not experience what it is to be another form you will still be you only different.
Just as the shadow runner burst through the door the stone morphed into spikes that shot up impaling him.
The guards all rushed forward striking deep with their spears.
Some of the stone collapsed back into the floor.The shadow runner let out a gurgled cry before it faded to ash.
More guards along with the baron arrived.
“God gods man what in the name of the seventh star happened here.” the baron said, stepping over the bodies.
“Sir, someone in this keep summoned a spirit to do their bidding and judging by recent events i don't think there done yet.'' I said, leaning against the wall exhausted. |
Hello old friend, I knew you'd be there for me, In the end
*Oh how the mighty have fallen, they called me the greatest.... the master of the unknown. Tamer of the laws of the universe, puppet master of the unseen*
*if only they'd know where true power lies, where true power subsides.*
- *The first time I touched your mind I felt how truly small I was.*
*You*
*like a looming shadow, greater than existence, a resonating energy older...more ancient than time itself*
*quivering I asked of you all I wanted to know, more and more hungry for power with every undeniable truth, with every understanding of the unforseen*
*until I realised that all power, all knowledge, Since one can not be without the other. Had a price....*
*And realising that no matter what the price, I would pay it*
Your voice resonates through my being, like it has always done when we speak.
*MERLIN, ARE YOU SURE YOU DO NOT WANT THE ANSWERS YOU HAVE BEEN TOYING WITH YOUR WHOLE LIFE? I CAN GIVE YOU LIFE EVERLASTING..... YOU NEED ONLY ASK.... AND I WILL TELL YOU THE PRICE... AGAIN*
....
No, no... you know I can't....
Don't take my moral obligations as weakness or ignorance, you... the creator of all, have taken me by hand and shown me all my young mind desired, lifted me to heights greater than I ever fathomed.... but I cannot do this.
I am doomed by what I have done, doomed by what I have given up, and doomed by what I have desired.
Doomed three times, but still I can not do this. You can not ask this of me.
*I ASK NOTHING, I GIVE YOU THE OPTIONS WILLINGLY... AND YOU PAY THE PRICE. OR YOU DO NOT*
I can't give the lives of others, I can't give you the lives of all those who would bring joy to the world, I can't give you this blood price that will ultimately destroy the world, just so I can rule it.
I am doomed, but at least the dooming I have brought upon my self is mine, and mine own to carry.
*he was silent, it felt like he was judging my words, weighing my intentions*
*ARE YOU SURE I CAN NOT DO ANYTHING FOR YOU ANYMORE*
If I might ask you one more thing?
*YOU NEED ONLY ASK*
Can you make my death quick and painless? I do not know if I deserve this, I have lorded my power over others, I've been prideful and hurtful. I've brought more pain than I have brought joy.... but.... in stepping from this world have I not deserved to do so quietly and quickly?
My last desire is to rest...
*THAN SO SHALL IT BE*
*even the greatest tree must one day be cast back onto the ground to rot and be re absorbed by earth itself. So to must the greatest of mankind fall. Here we see the end of an agreement. Not between friends, but between companions nonetheless. There was no screams, no fairy dust no happy ending. Just a closing of eyes, the last breath drifting away on the dusty air in the room.... and the end of a chapter unknown to many* | 2021-12-26T08:41:37 | 2021-12-26T06:54:51 | 32 | 14 |
[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. | Alel bit his lip as the prisoner crumpled to dust, blowing away from a wind within an airtight room. Well, that was out the window. The judge simply stared with a bored look in his eye, confirming the kill before charting it down and looking to some other infinite list.
“Charles Alel, take to the stand.”
Alel grimaced as he stepped forward. Really? Couldn’t even use his preferred nickname? No matter. His mind was racing with things he could say to keep from dying, though it came up blank as the judge read through his charges. All too soon, Alel heard the judge draw to a close, not even registering when asked how he wanted to die. He needed time, though it wasn’t something he had. Maybe if he could just... get a few more minutes, he could -
“Charles. Choose, or be disintegrated quickly and painfully within the minute.” A magic hourglass flipped, the sand draining ten times faster than it should have.
Suddenly, Alel had a spark of an idea - though, whether or not the magic of the courthouse would even be able to carry through such a thing, he did not know. Alel’s heart beat harder and faster as the last grains of sand hit the bottom of the hourglass.
“I wish to die in every way.” The words flew from his mouth, unable to think of anything else in the moment. The judge had preemptively raised his gavel, though hesitated with Alel’s words. He didn’t look bored or unpleased, but surprised. Curious, even. It *was* a fitting punishment, an undying death set to repeat over and over, and who knows if the courthouse could even do it. An infinite death.
The judge merely locked eyes with Alel, raising his gavel higher before striking downwards. Alel could feel his heart beating quickly as silence filled the chamber. He could feel the eyes of other prisoners as well as the judge on him. His heart was still beating, though rapid from the adrenaline.
A few seconds passed, as Alel began to calm... only to grip his chest in agony, pain wracking his entire body. His heart began to beat faster, and harder, as though it were about to burst within his chest - and then nothing. His consciousness didn’t ebb or fade, it simply ended.
Then it began. Alel rose with a gasp, sucking the air into his aching chest. He gripped his chest and looked towards the judge’s chair - empty. How long had it been, he wondered? Alel began to stand, only to hear a sharp *snap*. He crumpled to the floor with a pained yelp, feeling more bones breaking upon making contact. He looked to his hands, now greying and withering. Old age. His eyes went blurry, and he could feel his body give way to the air in the room.
Awake once more. Dead once more. Awaken, suffer, die. That was the punishment he had chosen. Aneurysm, seizure, cancer, diarrhea, suicide - he kept going through the motions. And though he didn’t know how much time passed in between each revival, the judges seat remained empty, as did the prisoner chamber. It took all of Alel’s willpower just to keep conscious, to stay sane enough to move with what precious seconds he had.
The courthouse was carrying out his wish, killing him in every conceivable way. However, it didn’t restrict his movement. With each revival, he inched closer and closer to escape, to victory - or at least, a semblance of it. Eventually, he reached the door of the prisoners chamber once more, reaching towards the door with a flayed hand. He heard a crack, one that wasn’t from his bones. It was the wood beneath his feet. Alel looked downwards, seeing rotted wood beneath his feet just before it gave way to his emaciated body.
Alel fell, helpless. As he fell, he closed his eyes. The wood was rotten, old. Left without care long enough to give way to skin and bones. He had died several times, physically - but he said *every* way. By falling, by suffocation, by cave in, by worms and dirt and seeds spreading through the Earth and into his bones, all things that wouldn’t be possible in the moment he made the wish.
This was his fate. An infinite one, instead of an eternity of peaceful non-existence. What a fool he was. Alel closed his eyes, only to open them for a time, before closing them again. Perhaps, in time, the magic of the courthouse would break. But before that, this was his undying destiny. | The Gods damned Tribunal! If there was anyone to blame for the state of this sorry world it would be the Tribunal. Sitting up on high, casting judgement on their inferiors. Everyone knows they're the real power behind the crown. Can't have a revolution when the Tribunal can kill you for your crimes instantly.
People called us stupid for trying to assassinate the king. Too much security that night and we just barged in the front doors. Hardly took any effort or the king's guards to take us down. All we had were daggers, they couldn't have even scratched the king's armor. Idiots they called us for even trying to fight against our betters. Everyone reading our manifesto as a joke....but maybe we got through to some people.
Sitting here, waiting to get called up in front of the Tribunal for punishment. Some have tried to plead their case. Some have tried to outwit the bastards and live forever. Poor sod before me wished to die of old age, and got turned to dust faster than it took him to say the words.
HOW DO YOU WISH TO DIE? the Tribunal asks me.
I grin and think of everything they've taken from me; my father, my wife, half my damn family accused of crimes against the crown most of them never committed. But I know what revolution sounds like. I may not see it, but I'm giving my people hope.
"Drowned in the Tribunal's fresh spilled blood." I say as I close my eyes and hear the first downpour. | 2021-06-24T10:52:50 | 2021-06-24T08:24:48 | 44 | 11 |
[WP] Humans died a long time ago. But our AI live on as caretakers for the planet; becoming spirit-like constructs integrated into the planet; today, alien colonizers arrived to what they thought was a garden world. The Fey Machines are having none of that. | ######[](#dropcap)
Feyah’s eyestalks pressed up against the glass, darting back and forth as she looked down at the planet below. “It’s so…*colorful*,” she breathed. “Is all that blue really water?”
“It really is,” Orhan answered. He stood behind his daughter, gazing through the small viewport toward what he hoped would be their new home. “There’s more water than land, in fact. Do you remember when we visited the Ryey Cliff? Well, on this planet, there are places in the water that are as deep as the cliff is high.”
Feyah turned to face her father, her eyes swelling in amazement. Orhan smiled at the disbelief on his daughter’s face. For his daughter, who had known only the shifting sands and blackened rock of their homeworld, this could only seem like a miracle.
He could scarcely believe it was possible himself. They and their whole clan had traveled fourteen star systems to reach this place. Many times along the way, he had questioned the wisdom of their journey. Perhaps, he had thought then, it would have been better to face the dangers they knew rather than those of the unknown. But now that they were finally here, looking at this brilliant jewel of a planet, Orhan finally felt at peace. Now he finally understood why the astronomers had given this place such a grandiose name as *Harai Onhu*--“The Garden of Heaven” in the Old Tongue. He gently rested a tentacle on Feyah’s shoulder as the vibrant greens and blues and oranges filled the entire viewport. This place *was* a garden deserving of the gods, but perhaps he and those he loved would finally be able to find a new home here too.
---
[“IRREGULARITY DETECTED,”](#sc) Atmosphere reported. [“NON TERRESTRIAL LIFEFORMS APPROACHING SECTOR B-42739.”](#sc)
“Thank you, Atmo.” Shield responded. It was always good policy to be polite to the subroutines, you never knew when one of them would achieve sentience. He shifted his consciousness to watch the spaceship as it broke through the upper atmosphere. It had been such a long time since an intelligently designed craft flew in these skies. A thousand, no, ten thousand years, at least. He analyzed the ship. A crude thing, compared to the last designs of the humans, but still an effective interstellar transport for organics. Vigilance circuits enhanced, he waited for any sign of hostility, but the craft merely continued in a graceful arc downwards. Shield projected their landing point and ordered a few drones constructed in that sector. Just in case.
Weather whispered to him, breaking his thread. “Shield, what’s going on?”
“You’re not supposed to be on this network,” he grumbled. “Don’t you have a hurricane to make somewhere?”
She swirled around him, forcing him to use an unnecessarily large amount of processing power just to keep her in focus. What an irritating unit; did efficiency mean anything to her? “You know me. I get curious. Who are our visitors?”
He looked into the incoming stream of data about the visitor. “I don’t know yet. But it seems to be a new lifeform we don’t have in our database. They don’t have a communications array, so I can only analyze what the Sensors tell me.”
“Will you blow them out of the sky? Pew-pew laser show? Fireworks?”
“You know very well that my Directive won’t let me, unless they can be classified as a threat. But there is insufficient data at this point.”
“Hmm,” Weather was silent for a few cycles, evidently in some sort of deep calculation. “My models don’t have anything to help you decide, sorry.”
“Thanks,” Shield said dryly. “I would totally expect you to find something about interstellar travelers in the climate change data of the last millenia. How about you go make it rain on them or something?”
“Maybe I will,” she whispered mischievously. “I haven’t had a good storm in a while.”
---
r/TheresAShip | Half of the armada was instantly vaporized when the scout ship touched down on the planet. Electrified plasma jumped from ship to ship. All of our scans showed technologies that had been out of commission for millennia. The defense network was hidden in every nook of the planet, masked in the carcases of ancient satalites. Targeting satilites the size of dust clung to our hulls. Every moon in the system exploded into a million fighter aircraft. Then we realized. We where being harvested. The earth that had been desrcibed in the VOYAGER craft we found 40 light years away was the bait. We are doomed. This entire solar system is a giant organism designed to lure and consume. We had thought the progenitor race had wiped the system clean of intelegent life in war. They left something much more terrible. | 2020-05-22T17:07:30 | 2020-05-22T15:17:28 | 434 | 67 |
[WP] You've been brought by the Valkyries to Valhalla. But when you meet the greatest warriors of history you don't know how to tell them you're an esports player. | The doors lay out before me, stretched over an endless expanse. "So I'm allowed to choose?" My voice echoed down the halls. The amorphous being of light nodded. The golden door marked "Christian Heaven" was locked. Figured, since I'd never been to church a day in my life. "Hell" was open, a fireman's pole straight down into a void from which no light escaped. I passed.
The next door was marked "Scientology", but didn't have a doorknob. It appeared to be painted onto the wall. "Pastafarian" next to it sounded like a great party was going on. A few doors had bouncers. Egyptian Afterlife's bouncer had the head of a dog, and Greek Afterlife's was some old guy with an oar. They sneered at me as I passed.
My parents had been Buddhists, and at some point, they'd taken me to be blessed by some monk in orange robes at a sacred temple, so I was probably going to find whatever they believed in. "Buddhist Afterlife- Reincarnation." It was a button on the wall that looked suspiciously similar to the "Restart" button from those old timey arcade games. As I was about to press it, I noticed that the door beside it was open. It was a brilliant golden door with engravings of swords and beautiful naked people. "Valhalla" was displayed in gold lettering across the top. This had to be a mistake.
I put a foot through the doorway, keeping an eye on what I assumed was my guide. It didn't respond. I stepped all the way through, and the ground shook. I was in a chariot next to the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. She looked like a mix between a Victoria's Secret model and an Olympic sprinter. The hallway from before was nowhere to be seen. A giant set of white-feathered wings protruded from her back.
"To Valhalla!" she roared, and the winged horses took off. The chariot had no back, so I clung to her armor, trying my best not to be a creep. She didn't seem to notice. As we landed, a giant of a man helped me down and shook my hand. Which is to say he took my noodly arm in his bear hand and almost knocked me off balance. Was everyone here ripped?
"Well met, newcomer! I am Olaf Olafson. Welcome to Valhalla, the land where great warriors go to fight, feast, and fuck for the rest of our days." He chortled as he clapped me on the back. It felt like a mule's kick. "You don't look like a warrior. Perhaps you were a genius tactitian?"
"Something like that, yeah." I muttered. Grandmaster Tier in Starcraft probably counted as genius. I made the mistake of meeting his gaze. His piercing blue eyes saw straight through me, I just knew it.
"Well, who am I to defy the judgement of the gods? Plenty of our newcomers have... less powerful physiques. War's changed. Maybe for the better." Olaf gave me a smile as large as he was and started walking. "Come! Let us enter the hall."
Each stride took him like three feet and I scrambled to keep up. We passed gladiators, samurai, and ,of course, lots of viking warriors. It felt like the world's most ridiculous MMORPG. As we neared the only building on the horizon, something caught my eye. "Thanks, Olaf. For everything. But I have to go."
"Battle caught your eye? Enjoy, my new friend!" He laughed as I sprinted down a dirt path, towards a clearing where two men decked out in army fatigues were enjoying meatball sandwiches and Folgers coffee. One dropped his sandwich and stared at me, open mouthed. I swallowed.
"Hi, grandpa."
_______________________________________
[more](https://www.reddit.com/r/Tensingstories/)
| "Sim-u-la-shun?"
This was not going well. Olaf and Jolder were starting to think about not imprisoning me for all eternity. The rest? Not so much. Torvold kept reaching for his hammer, and Thor had a look of disapproval.
"Everyone, please! I just want you to know I am one of you," I said, thinking of all the enemies I had crushed. "I have driven my enemies before me, heard the lamentations of their women, and won glory beyond all others." Although I did leave the part out about getting run over by a cab.
"He is right," Odin exclaimed, "This man has earned his way into our most sacred realm, and you lot could stand to learn from a great mind as well."
"So,"-Olaf scratched his head-" Tell us more about this micro-managing." | 2017-09-11T23:16:08 | 2017-09-11T16:56:30 | 32 | 15 |
[WP] You lost your sight, along with everyone else on earth in the great blinding. Two years later, 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 get that this is a repost, can we just chill and enjoy the new stories. | The day of the great blindness we thought that every single human on earth had lost their sense of sight. My heart still clenches when I remember how it happened.
I was walking. I was talking to my girlfriend, Joanne. She had the most beautiful hair I had ever seen. Her right eye was green, while the left one was blue. She was beautiful.
And then, I couldn't see her. Or anything else. Before I could process what was happening, I heard her mumbling in panic. She said: "Alice, I can't see". And everyone started screaming. There were car crashes, fights, everywhere, I thought we were going to die. I lost grip on Joanne, and since then I haven't found her again. I want to believe she is alive, but I have accepted that likely she isn't.
But not everyone lost sight that day.
Soon we heard messages. They claimed themselves to be the authorities. Some people hadn't lost their sight, and did move to assist the vast majority of earth populace. We were assigned to what they called "Residential camps". These were fashined in some form of town that helped us to navigate through audio cues, and signs on every single corner written in braile.
The day they brought me to this town they guided me to my appartment. It was just an small room, a kitchen and a toilet, but what I loved about it is that I could feel the warmth of the sun in my skin when I approached the window in my bedroom. It was... well, not perfect. Let's say, enough.
After six months in there, they have us phones that we could use in any sign. The phone would then tell us where we were, and even guide us in the infinite darkness of our blindness.
Well, I say darkness because is what people who maintain their sight imagine. "Blindness" is not equal to "Black", but that's okay, I don't think I could describe it anyway.
But that changed two days ago. It's been two years since I lost my vision... and two days ago, I got it back.
At first I thought I was dreaming, would not be the first time. I was laying down on a bed, it did feel like my own bed, the air smelled like my own room. I stood up and looked around, to the window... and there I realized something was wrong. Very wrong. I could indeed feel the warmth through the window... but there was no sun. No street, no sun, nothing! There was just a lamp that actually *irradiated* heat. No. Sun.
Then I turned around and saw the message in every single wall. "Don't tell them you can see".
I pinched my face. I wasn't dreaming. I spent nearly one hour in my room, trying to process what was happening, what *had* happened. This was madness, maybe I was mad, I though.
I wish I was.
Finally I made a decission. Until I found out what was going on, I would play blind. I had a job in this... *city*, if you can call it that way. I was a teacher. I got dressed, put on my sunglasses and walked outside with my cane as I had always done.
*Outside* was not there. There was only a corridor, dim light that barely allowed me to see -and the sunglasses made it even more difficult-. There was wind that day, but it was not natural, it was somehow *manufactured*, if that makes any sense! And, for the first time, I *saw* my neighboors. They seemed oblivious, they didn't know they were living in a fake city!
Or did they?
The though terrified me. How many people did know about that!? How many people had actually recovered sight, but just kept playing pretend all this time!? Why didn't I have to tell anyone!? Who brought us there, and why!?
That was two days ago.
I have just jumped towards Tommy. He is a good kid. Fortunately, we aree alone, as he is grounded during playtime -kids being kids-. I saw him raise his head, mouth widely opened; he looked around with an smile and mouthed the words: "Teach, I can see!". I didn't allow him to complete the sentence, I jumped on him and covered his mouth.
"Listen to me, Tommy" I tell him, panic in my voice. "You cannot tell anyone, do you understand?". He looked at me, terrified, so I yelled, "Promise me you won't tell anyone!". And he noddes, eyes wide opened.
"Why?", he asks. "Why can't I?"
I still don't know.
Hell. I wish I was still blind. Everything would be much easier.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
\---Apologies for likely some spelling and grammar mistakes. English is not my mother launguage--- | Was I living a lie? Were there others like me too? Who did this? Why is this happening to me? I have nothing but questions. The more I meet people, the more questions. I am left all the more unanswered. The more I see, I sink deeper to the unknown.
I spent the whole week living in my shock. I did not go out but locked myself in. Living like I did for the last couple of years. Coming to terms with what my sight can see is something I am not ready to comprehend.
As it is with everything under the universal reality of time, things will end. My fear and cowardice ran its course to its end. All thoughts lead to me finding answers. I had no option to finally see what the world shows.
Light reveals what the darkness envelopes. Physics has no tolerance for the subject's liking.
I can see my room, my chaos of clothes and chores. My failures to position and place. My lack of nutrition in body under the luminance from the long forgotten lightbulb. Uncut hair, long beard, dirty nails, boney chest shows much more than the obvious facts. It reveals a voice. Light makes sounds. It sounds like my voice screaming to end it. My sight shows my defeat.
My life will never remain the same. Light after darkness after lifelong taken for granted light changed me irreversibly. I was never someone who would lick wounds, but darkness made me want it more. The imagination of my blood flowing from my self inflicted cut was my only way to see. In my mind, in my pain. Seeing them revealed under light they look ugly. Cuts not as clean as I imagined them to be.
My thoughts with their reincarnation through my visions were pulling all my nerves towards actions. Reluctance used to be easy, its a struggle now. Struggle against my changed self.
Staring myself into my eyes, I grinned. I know I am leaving this, never return. Not here, not without answers. I closed my eyes and stepped outside, into the light. | 2021-11-29T04:47:10 | 2021-11-29T04:20:57 | 109 | 10 |
[WP] You are a witch who offers couples deals in return for their first born child. You run an orphanage full of children freed from their would-be parents irresponsible enough to make a deal with a witch in the woods | They labeled me a witch for the deformities I was born with. A crooked spine, a wandering eye, boils on my skin, these are but a few facets that plague me. To the villagers, I am a monster. A pox upon the good people. They saw me only as a deformity who had no right to live amongst them, despite being born and raised by one of their own. And so, at the tender age of 12, they cast me out and drove me towards the woods.
I could have received no greater blessing.
In time, I learned to survive out in the wilds. Mother Nature was an inflexible mistress. She knew exactly what she was and in that she was unbending, even for a child of my age. So I toiled, more so than I ever have. I learned the ways of the woods. Spoke to the wildlife as if they were my brethren. I paid homage to the soil itself for I had lived off its bounty. In time, with both patience and resolve to guide me, not only did I managed to survive in the woods- I *thrived*.
Thus my notoriety grew. To those who had cast me aside, learning that I still lived, I became a reviled figure who twisted the woods for my own perversions. Or, in short, I was labeled the Witch of the woods.
Though they despised me, loathed what I was and what they believed I stood for, the villagers never raised arms against me. It seems their fear of me served as the great inhibitor. Though they were quick to cast their aspersions, they never had the stones to follow through. I was content with that.
I thought my dealings with the villagers would end there. However, fate would see it otherwise. They began coming to me, it was mostly women, sometimes the men, but always they came in the dead of night. Wearing unmistakable dread and open disdain, they knocked on my cottage door in hopes to bargain with me.
The first was a woman in her early twenties, she held a swaddled baby in her arms. The babe wailed as if it tried to stir death itself. The woman, a pretty young thing, was made undone by her child’s incessant sobs.
“Take her!” She said, thrusting her own into my arms. “Do what you will with her, Devil. Eat her if you must. I care not. I cannot stomach her wailing another second!”
I was flabbergasted. Why, of all people, did she want me to care for her babe? And then it dawned on me. She wanted her baby to disappear, just as the village had done to me.
At that moment, I acted impetuously. I didn’t know what I was doing, nor what my end goal was. I only understood one truth: this child deserved better. I was determined to rise to the occasion.
I put on the airs of the bogey they made me put to be. With a snarl in my words, and slicing gaze. “Your offering is insufficient. I demand of you more.”
“Is it coin you seek?”
“No. I have no need for such trivialities. I demand of you-“ I bargained with the woman. I asked what she owned and then made claim to what I desired. She agreed, without question and returned the following day with said items.
I suppose this part of the transaction pleased me best. The look on her when I demanded the most basic of necessities: pots of iron, ladles and bowls, tailored clothes and thickened wool, nails and hammers, and any other household accoutrements I could think of, I made claim for it all. She agreed, happily, I might add, believing that I was a fool asking for only scraps. But that was a far cry from the truth.
I had asked for the basics I believed a child should have growing up.
And that was just the beginning. Rumor of what happened that day began to spread and more unloved children landed at my doorsteps. Once, I was offered a child who had been born with the misfortune of having a cleft lip. Another time, a child had been abandoned because he spoke with a slow drawl. One time, much to my incredulity, a beautiful baby girl had been surrendered to me due to her mismatching eyes color. I could not understand the villagers actions, it all seemed to arbitrary to me. When I pressed them for answers, some claimed that their own personal stature was in jeopardy. That somehow their wealth was at stake. Some, the more cruel in nature, simply admitted to bearing no love for their own. Truly their reasoning was vain at best, reprehensible at worst, but that meant nothing to me. Only the children’s well-being.
So I took each child in and gave them what we lacked- a proper home. From their *parents* I asked only thus: the proper tools I would need to raise them. The villagers found this deal to be most agreeable. They believed that the Witch they had shunned for being born different could be used for their selfish devices.
They had called me a monster to my face, a freak to my back, and a *devil* in their whispers all because of malformed body. But, if that is what I am, what are they for abandoning their children so eagerly? Thankfully, that question is not for me to contend with. Let them live on with their own avarice and immorality.
Now, I live with a singular purpose in life. The livelihood of the children is all that matters to me. I give them everything I can. I raised them. I taught them. And I love each and everyone with all my heart. We do not have much in this world, for Nature can only provide so much, but we have each other and that will always be enough.
___
Thanks for reading! r/86Fiction | As the bramble slipped off my shoulders and teailed down my arms it became soft and silky. Slowly it twisted and wove into itself as the little being in my hands was carefully swaddled in the deep green and black cloth. My hands, ones that had appeared long-fingered and boil-riddled, started to flake and shed the transfiguration until gentle hands with henna-like tattoos were revealed as I carefully adjusted the swaddling cloth.
The hut around me creaked and popped as the rotting ramshackle walls of branches and thatch flattened and merged together. Soon they formed walks of closely fit and lacquered boards. The fire pit and cauldron with ominous brew had become a regular kitchenette and fridge. The floor with the effigies and fetishes for hexes? Now a cradle with a chair beside it. I placed the child, a little boy, within the crib where a little tune started to play.
I removed the mask from my face that had given me the look of some vile hag, and could see my face reflected on the stainless steel of the fridge. I looked well into my fifties now, wrinkles starting to show, hair begining to silver, not bad for just turning 600.
*Master, is the ritual finished?* A voice called out to my mind. Young, slightly timid, but the girl that was my apprentice had no lack of talent when it came to children and magic.
"Come in," I called out, my throat hoarse from the voice I had been cackling and speaking with.
In walked a girl in jeans and a sweatshirt with a bottle already prepared for the baby. Her hair was in a ponytail having just woke up not a few minutes before. The rituals people used these days were always at night it seemed.
"Oh my, he's just such a handsome little man," She whispered as she lifted the child up to feed him. "What did they ask for this time?"
I paused before answering. Did I explain the loathing and discontent the parents had towards the child? The sense of irritating burden they viewed the child as?
"They claimed they were too poor to raise the child. Asked for prosperity," So of course I took the child. No child no burden right? Outside of the hospital fees and all that I was going to make sure they couldn't weasel out of. Oh and the visit from the police and DHS when the child 'mysteriously vanished'.
"But it's okay now, you'll have all the brothers and sisters you'll ever want. And no shortage of love, I know for sure," My apprentice coo'ed to the child. And for a moment, I remembered when I first held her like that, with my master watching me. | 2020-01-14T12:10:46 | 2020-01-14T12:04:51 | 125 | 49 |
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