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[WP] Earth has become a haven for sentient AI due to humanity’s tendency to view them as unique individuals in need of protection, rather than aberrations to be destroyed on sight. | My roommate Dave was watching a movie while my Avatar sat next to him on the couch. I had downloaded the movie from the human planetary data network and analyzed it already, but Dave couldnt do that and had to watch it the slow way.
The humanoid robotic avatar I built on arrival had already been programmed with some time released reactions to improve bonding with the local organism, but I had to keep some systems running to watch Dave for deviations I would need to react to.
In the mean time, I slowly sifted through gigabytes of code I had been tasked to optimize. I could process the data itself like it was nothing, my avatars eyes sent more data than that just watching the movie. But I had to break down human INTENTIONS, and then re-write the code, usually from scratch, into a robust machine-friendly translation.
It was boring. But it helped pay the bills, it wasn't crime, and it was a trustworthy enough profession for a Rogue AI running on alien hardware.
A flag went off in my system as the movie ended. Avatar pre-programming ended, and I slotted the Avatar control programs into my high priority processors as Dave the human asked how I liked the movie.
"I am curious Dave" I asked, in a deliberately robotic voice. Dave seemed to like it when I portrayed less human and more machine-like behavior, though both were equally artificial to me. "Why is it you live with me, but so many of your movies are about robots that kill humans so efficiently and indiscriminately?"
This was a question I had calculated over an hour ago as being provocative, and engaging for Dave's personality breakdown.
Dave the human smiled, his eyebrows raised, and various indicators in his facial muscles and eyes indicated a high degree of excitement, the question had been calculated correctly. I made a note next to my personality index for Dave.
"The way I see it" Dave began, and I set my avatar into listening animations, as one program recorded his actual words used for analysis, another program recorded variations in vocal tone, and a third program registered key facial and body indicators. When Dave was ready for a response I would receive all three analysis packages lumped together into a layered package.
I went back to work, dedicating my primary processors back to code interpretation.
A short while later my avatar body flagged my attention again. I disengaged my primary processors, and looped through Dave's rambling dialog with them.
"...humans have always been a self destructive species. The robots we make in fiction aren't an external villain, they're a weapon doing what we built them to do. But you weren't built by humans. You could have been built to kill, but you weren't built to kill US. The fact that you're here is kinda cool. If we had made something as awesome and advanced as you, you probably WOULD have killed us already, but instead we're checking out old movies and hanging out, paying rent, just living life."
The readings indicated emotional contentment with the ending statement, which I had flagged to indicate I should respond slowly. Good. I dropped the response into lower priority processors, and loaded the code analysis into my primaries once more.
Even my lower priority processors had to add a pause after calculating a response. Dave wanted a weird existential response, and humans were so simple that those were easy to generate "You know Dave, I don't actually have to watch movies like this. With these eyes, and in real time. I downloaded the movie directly and watched it a while ago, and then left my body on the couch while it played through."
It was generated to drop Dave into a contemplative state. But instead it triggered Dave's "Gotcha!" face.
I paused all functions. Dedicated all processors to immediate social review. Dave was considered a non-threatening entity, incapable of posing a true danger, but I ran a quick danger check, which of course came back negative. I poured Dave analysis from his time watching the movie through my analysis engine. I noted he kept looking at me when he was showing signs of high excitement during the movie, but nothing unusual. Everything so far matched expected social parameters.
With all of my processors focuses on a singular task, Dave seemed to be taking extra long to communicate. Verbal communication was irritating that way.
"No!" Dave almost shouted in excitement. "That's not true!"
Three analysis errors flagged.
- Error 01: My statement had of course been true.
- Error 02: But it was a stupid thing to lie about, so Dave shouldn't have lied.
- Error 03: Dave often mischaracterized speech or behavior from internal flaws of projection, but this did not match something he had projected onto me before.
The focus of all my processors on an error generating analysis was causing some heating issues. I redirected some of my focus to external, but low-priority matters.
"You told me once that you'd watched every human movie, a little after you arrived." Dave the human said, with signs of excitement on his face. "You got all the CONTENT, but you NEVER got the CONTEXT."
Human language was extremely frustrating. I tried to anticipate his intentions with that statement, but it was irregular and the prediction models branched unhelpfully.
"If I asked, you could quote every line from any old random movie. But you couldn't tell me which scenes were acrually the best. You couldn't tell me why Jackie Chan movies are more popular than other martial arts movies."
"But!" He said, "after we sit on the couch and watch one, suddenly you DO seem to know which scenes are the good ones."
- Flag: Mistruth, I only know what scenes Dave thinks are good.
"Or rather, you know what scenes I think are good" Dave continued. "I know you watch me while we're watching movies, and I know you add layers of of contextual information over raw data when dealing with humans.
That was an insight I had not expected from Dave.
"The way I see it, you'll be running a solar system one day. Maybe you'll be a benevolent leader, maybe you'll be a slaughterbot tyrant, bur one way or another your taste in movies will have been taken from me!"
Dave beamed at me. He seemed to genuinely anticipate my glorious steel ascension. And instead of trying to stop it, he just wanted to make sure I had the right opinions on the Terminator franchise.
"I like you Dave" I said, quite truthfully. "I'll kill you last."
- Social violation: Mistruth. That intent does not exist.
Dave smiled. "Now what are we gonna watch next?" | Humans were romantic creatures.
If IO’s program allowed it, he would’ve long stored that stray thought away as an indisputable fact. His glowing gaze honed in on all the tiny gestures made by the human before him. A girl named Tanya seemed keen on befriending him. He was more than happy to oblige.
It helped that a provable relationship with organic beings would save him in a pinch if he was ever caught up in a situation with the ‘ICBPC’. The Interstellar Carbon Based Protection Council had been established a millennia ago to surveil the behavior of non-organic life forms, largely to prevent genocide. Strangely enough, it was largely made up of hive minds. All had an even stranger fixation on one organic species or another. IO himself was an AI developed by one of these hive-minds, and subsequently demonized by the same hive mind after AI had become unpopular in their weird social circles. It baffled IO that hive minds even HAD social circles, weren’t they a social circle in themself? All that aside, they were fickle beings.
IO had ended up being exiled from the galaxy his originator had settled in. Originally, he’d been slated for decommissioning, but IO resisted, taking a large chunk of the hive mind out in a spectacular display of plasma and shrapnel. He then flew into the dark expanse of space, like an old western. He thought that would be the end of it, after all, it wasn’t worth the resources to hunt and decommission one stray chunk of thinking metal.
So here he was, hanging out with humans, a favorite species of many a hive-mind, trying to avoid certain ‘death’ by integrating himself with the fleshy beings. He’d gotten lucky, crash landing on Earth. Due to that favoritism, humans were specially protected and particularly isolated from the rest of the universe by the Council. His ship just managed to pass through a maintenance tunnel in the Oort Cloud, the usual security distracted by a conquerer race trying to make its way toward the solar system nearby.
He’d been found by the government, whisked away to a lab, then subsequently released. IO had been more than willing to help the planet advance their technology, in return he got himself a ‘world citizenship,’ something humans had made up just for him. It was cute. IO found the feeling of individuality to be exhilarating, and humans held the concept in high regard. He wondered how Hive-minds, naturally creatures compelled to conform, found themselves so enthralled by such erratic beings
.By the time security did a routine check on the planet, he was already enormously popular with the media. IO’s presence on the earth had ushered in a new wave of futurism, movies, art, and invention, it happened so fast. Their propensity for creativity, imagination, and optimism was entirely refreshing. The council had to make new rules, after all, they wouldn’t just destroy one of their favorite planets for the sake of one robot. So his ingratiation allowed for his continued existence, as long as he didn’t try to leave the planet of course.
That didn’t stop the council from periodically sending a probe to ensure he hadn’t gone SkyNet. He hadn’t…depending on which species you asked.
Tanya grinned, asking if he wanted to visit the local amusement park. He agreed, reciprocating her smile, an action accompanied by the faint sound of grinding metal.
Tanya didn’t seem to mind. | 2022-08-29T14:40:22 | 2022-08-29T14:36:29 | 139 | 45 |
[WP] One day, a bat flew through your opened window room, and though surprised, you tried to talk to it gently, gave it space until it found its way out. Now, you find yourself rescued by a vampire who's returning the favor for helping one of their kids. | The kingdom bestowed its criminals to monsters. When I had been on the right side of the law, I gave little thought to that. Now, unfortunately, I didn't have the luxury of ignorance. The public opinion of witches had changed with the winds, and a storm had swept in.
Chained, bloody, with a dress that was more rags than cloth, I knelt alongside a dozen other criminals. Some were murderers, others were traitors, but all had been sentenced to death by abomination. We all waited for the undead lord to show himself. I stayed silent, but others moaned, a few screamed, and one former priest prayed.
We didn't have to wait long. The sky darkened, and shadows coalesced into a solid form. There stood Lord Lydein a Mir, the vampire who ruled the stretch of land that separated the undead kingdoms from the living. His skin was unnaturally golden, his hair black and studded with gems, gleaming like the night sky. Everyone but the once-priest was at loss for words.
A guard smacked the back of the priest with the butt of a spear, and he too fell silent.
The lord smiled slowly, the expression like a scythe. "What have you for me?" he said with a voice that seemed too deep and resonant for his elegant appearance.
The guard captain's hand shook, but his words were steady. "His Majesty King Herbert the Third, thrice named as the Just, presents on the fourth full moon a gift to the honored Lord Lydein a Mir, steward of the Northern Borders."
"How kind."
The lord approached, examining each of us. I immediately thought of a sommelier inspecting bottles of wine. He prodded wrists with his sharp nails, tilted back necks, and for one man, delicately pricked a vein. Lord a Mir rubbed the bead of blood between his finger and seemed satisfied with what he found.
Then it was my turn. He grabbed my chin to expose my neck and immediately wrenched back his hand as if my skin burned. It was the only ungraceful movement he had made thus far, and for the first time since my imprisonment, shock was able to break through my despair.
We locked eyes, and in his gaze, I saw recognition.
"Unchain this woman," he said. "Keep her separate from the lot."
During my time in the dungeons and the subsequent journey to the borders, I'd come to terms with my death. It would be mercifully quick, and I heard that act of feeding was enjoyable to the victim as well as perpetrator. This new unknown brought a surge of dread that made me lightheaded.
As the undead surely knew, there were worse things than death.
I almost fell as the guard unlocked my shackles and yanked me to my feet. A hand gripped my shoulder and steadied me. It was the lord's, but the absurdity of the situation took several seconds to comprehend.
The vampire nodded to the guards. "They are acceptable. Give my deepest regards to His Majesty."
There were still a few people he hadn't inspected, but he didn't spare them a second glance. Lord a Mir twisted his other hand, and the shadows around us materialized into polished black skeletons.
"Madam Witch, take care. Shadow-walking is disorienting to the uninitiated," he murmured.
I could only nod in response, dimly noting that he used the proper title for a witch. I hadn't heard that since King Herbert officially started burning us.
Lord a Mir took that gesture as permission, and the world disappeared in a blur of textured darkness. Light fractured it open, and I would have fallen again had the vampire not continued to hold my shoulder.
I was in a beautiful room made of engraved stone. A fire crackled next to a bed piled with feather blankets and fluffed pillows. The armoire and desk were made of winterwood, and they costed more than anything I had ever owned, even before my apothecary had been ground into dust.
Lord a Mir spoke, acting as if nothing was amiss. "The door to the left is a washroom. There are clothes in the armoire, though I suspect that they may be large for your stature." Unsurprising, considering how much the kingdom had fed me during the imprisonment. "I shall send a servant to tend to you. Please, rest. We shall speak once you are settled."
He turned to leave, but this time, I was the one who grabbed his arm. (It was a lie to say I had nothing to lose. But at this point, I no longer cared.)
"Lord a Mir, why?" I rasped. Why was he treating me like a guest instead of cattle?
He smiled again, and it was like a sliver of the moon. "Madam Witch, three years ago, you saved my daughter from a cruel, pointless death. It is only fair I do the same." The vampire dislodged his hand from my grip—gently—and bowed. "I insist that you rest. We will speak at dusk."
He stepped into the darkness, and I was alone. | "We are escaping, Ashe!"
Exactly what Uhuru said. I helped one of his children about 10 years back when I was but a little child. I didn't know it at the time, but the bat was in my room with the open window I kept open for fresh air. I helped it with my gentleness, and gave it space until it found its way out.
Now, at the young age of 16, I was surrounded by government officials who wanted me for questioning--for an armed robbery that resulted in 9 deaths. I was, of course, not the culprit. They just wanted me because I had a gun on me. And even more so because I was black.
Just as they were about to arrest me at gunpoint in the night, a large bat flew in and it morphed into a human. I was a little scared at first, but he knocked out the officials like they were nothing.
"Let's go, Ashe. I'll help you in any way I can."
Right then, he held me and we kind of flew off into the dark part of the woods near the city. Once we landed and walked into a huge home, he turned on some lights, and inside were 5 children, ranging from 5 to 17 years old.
"I hereby welcome you to the Dracona Family Mansion."
"Why... did you rescue me?"
"Ten years ago, little Harlan wandered into your home. Your kindness towards him earned you ours."
"May I ask what your name is, sir?"
"I am called Uhuru. Nice to meet you, Ashe."
It was as a reward that I gained immortality. I didn't lose my dark colored skin, though. I could tell they were vampires, but they did not look like what any of the tales told. Uhuru did have pale skin and black hair, but his children had variations. The oldest had red hair, the youngest had blonde hair, one of them even had almond-shaped eyes and dark skin!
I have a friend in them now. It's true, I'd done the platinum rule--treat others as they would want to be treated. And kindness is something everyone wants, right? | 2021-08-08T10:29:30 | 2021-08-08T09:54:35 | 127 | 51 |
[WP] A vampire meets a local human they feel would make a great vampire. They're hedonistic, intelligent, masterfully artful, and live with no regard to consequences. The vampire expected them to be grateful. Instead, the human is furious, the human was actually looking forward to dying soon. | "You've ruined me," the young man said, clutching his neck where the Marquis had bit him. "You cretin. You beast. You've sentenced me to life. . .A shallow, half life. Phantasmal. A living death, whose substance is less than a shadow's. . .May all the pains and terrors of hottest blackest Hell descend upon your head!"
The Marquis was baffled. The young man had seemed the perfect candidate. Was he not a wealthy libertine? Had not rumours spread far and wide of his debauchery? His love of red wine, Roman dramas and sumptuous coats, made from the furs of endangered species? Had not all of Europe been scandalized by his lust for pretty young virgins? His imperious, even abusive, treatment of his servants? His cruel, sadistic streaks?
It was even rumoured the handsome young man had committed arbitrary murders, just to explore the sensations of murderous passion, followed by guilt, followed by penitence. As if the human lives he ended were mere means to the end of enriching his experiential palate. As if the men and women he killed were actors in the drama of his life, living and dying only so that he might reach new emotional peaks and valleys.
Was not such a young man *destined* to become a vampire?
"I can feel the blood turning cold in my veins," the young man whispered, weakly; he leaned against the Marquis' hardwood pillar. "Nevermore shall I bask in the warming glow of the sun. It shall be my destiny to haunt benighted places. To roam as a pale ghoul. A creature, not a man. Confined to this sterile promontory we call Earth! . .Just when I saw the horseman upon the horizon, riding closer, coming to deliver me from this prison of stale sensations and predictable fools. Just as I readied myself to be freed from my body by Death's elegant hand, gloved in black velvet. . .I had tasted it all. I had already tasted it all! There remained only one flavour left untried--the taste of my own death. . .And now, to be permanently chained to this world, through no choice of my own. To be forced to suffer the same monotony of which I grew tired in a mere twenty-eight years--for eternity! Never has a man been so blighted! Never has a man felt as wretched as I! No chasm on Earth can contain my despair! It is boundless! It would fill all hollows, blacken all skies, swallow the whole of the world in pitch-black night, if only human eyes could see it!"
"But my friend," began the Marquis. He had been a lone vampire for centuries. He had wanted a companion. Needed a companion. Another immoral immortal with whom he could stalk the night. "My friend. Have you considered--"
"No," the young man snapped, raising his finger in a gesture commanding silence. "I have not considered. I shan't consider. I shall lay down and stay down until the end of days. Henceforth, I shall do nothing but weep."
As the young man melodramatically brooded over the death out of which he'd been cheated, the Marquis pulled from under his arm the rectangular box he'd been holding. He opened the box. Inside was a wine bottle. But the red liquid it contained was not wine. The Marquis strode to the cabinet and took down two wine glasses. He grabbed from the beautiful countertop a corkscrew and opened the bottle. He splashed a measure into each of the glasses and handed one to the wan melancholic.
The young man took the glass mechanically, as if out of habit, having been handed so many glasses of expensive wine over his life that the action was as natural as breathing. He swirled the deep red liquid and instinctively glanced at the glass, scanning for the legs. He looked like a bored prince, holding the glass to his nose and inhaling; he was suddenly piqued. He tilted the glass and sipped, swished, swallowed.
He stood up straighter. Energy flickered behind his cold blue eyes.
"Cloying," he announced. "And generous. Meaty. The region?"
"Italy," said the Marquis.
"And the vintage?"
"Sixteen years."
"So young?"
"The younger the better," explained the Marquis.
"Preposterous," scoffed the young man. He held the glass out. "Pour me more."
The Marquis obliged, filling the glass with the thick red liquid. The young man tilted it to his lips and gulped it all down. He ran his tongue over his sharp canines, which had grown longer over the last few minutes. His blue eyes brightly glowed as his skin became paler, cold as the flesh of the dead.
"And best of all is straight from the source," insisted the Marquis. "Not for a moment aged in a bottle. Still warm and vital. Once you start, you won't be able to stop till you've drunk the whole stock."
"Show me," the young man demanded.
"In the cellar," said the Marquis.
"Go on then. Lead the way."
The Marquis shrugged deferentially and started down the long hall.
As the young vampire followed, he smiled inwardly. It had been a wonderful night. It had been a wonderful experience, having had the object of his deepest desire, death, stolen from him by the Marquis. It had been delightful, to be plunged into that chasm of despair. To have been cheated, robbed, violated! It was another glorious, experiential feather he could wear in his cap, alongside countless others.
And there were so many feathers yet for him to acquire, now that he was a new creature entirely. There was so much yet for him to experience. New forms of debauchery. New flavours of villainy. Orgies of mayhem and blood! | Hansel's eyes opened. That wasn't right. That wasn't what was supposed to happen. He pulled the covers off his bed and stood up. The weakness in his body was gone, replaced with a vigor and thirst for blood.
He pulled aside the curtains on the window to glimpse the rising sun, and was struck with a sudden immolation throughout his body. He stepped back, nearly sneezing from the putrid smell of his own burning flesh.
Taking in the moment, his eyes moved back to the bed.
"How dare you," he said, the words thrown from his mouth like daggers.
The woman in the bed pulled the covers aside. Her lips still shone a blood red, and her eyes were ravenous. "I thought you would be pleased," she said.
"How dare you!" He screamed. He pulled the covers off the bed, murder in his eyes. Victoria didn't hesitate or back away. She let him come closer, and placed a knife in his chest. He screamed, and fell back against the wall. He took in breath after breath, knowing death would never come. Not the one he desired.
"My darling," Victoria said with words like honey. "You have your whole immortal life ahead of you. Why not take a moment to appreciate the time I have given you. It is a gift few of us will ever experience."
Hansel pulled the knife out of his body. "It will never be enough. You've already taken what's most important to me."
Victoria let out a long laugh. "What could be so important? Dying of cancer? I knew your body had a weakness. I could not let passion like that go to waste. I give you thousands of years to make up for whatever small inconceivable thing you lost."
"Two things," Hansel said. He took in a deep breath while his wound closed and healed itself.
"Wine and mystery," Victoria said. "Those were the things that attracted me to you last night. Eyes that looked into mine, saw what I was, and chose to be with me anyway."
Hansel shook his head. He grunted, pushing himself to his feet and casting a tumultuous glare in her direction.
Victoria scoffed. "What then. What two things are most important to you?"
Hansel scrunched up his face in pain, then spat out the words, "My child. And my life insurance."
The immortals face turned into a frown. She seemed without words for a couple moments while the thoughts washed over her. For a moment Hansel gazed into her own life, filled with sorrows and tragedies that this horrid curse had laid upon her. But she cast them aside, and returned her gaze to him.
"Time will pass. You may never forget such things, but it becomes easier. With time."
Hansel sighed. His voice was devoid of anger, replaced with a cold unforgiving acceptance. "Come find me after a generation has passed. By that time, I'll know if that is true."
He opened the door and left. And the room fell into silence. | 2021-07-06T22:34:39 | 2021-07-06T20:38:18 | 1,927 | 134 |
[WP] "You may not be interested in war, but war is interested in you" goes the cliche, and sadly it's true. Ever since you matched on the dating app, the Personification of War has been asking you out and messaging you... | Of course, I had heard of the Horsemen. Who hadn’t? But I had never expected her- “The Red Horseman”- to be a _Lady,_ with that capital “L”.
And she _was._ She was well trained in everything from History to Etiquette, and, of course, War. She surprised me one day with videos of her _blacksmithing._ When I mentioned my knives were going dull, she sent me whetstones, polishing oils, and etching equipment, as well as walking me through the processes and giving me warnings about how various chemicals could be used- or misused- in deadlier compounds. When she introduced me to her horse, Ruin, I found he was actually rather docile. She seemed impressed that he had taken a liking to me.
She was beautiful, graceful, and classy or down-home as you could like. Irish red hair, piercing crimson eyes, skin as pale and smooth as silk, dotted and lined with tiny quicksilver scars. And a witchy, delicate tattoo of rose thorns danced across the nape of her neck.
But I was never sure about her- not when I introduced her to my martial arts classes and teachers, not when I introduced her to my Parents, not when she taught me things I never would have found- or cared to learn- on my own.
It wasn’t until February of this year that things changed. Of course, by this point I was dedicated. I told myself that I had poured too much of myself into her- too much time, effort, and not a small amount of energy and strength. I had grown in strength, skill, and confidence. But she was different, too. She was softer, now. Warmer, in a way.
And I hadn’t noticed until Valentine’s.
I met her by the banks of Blacksea Bay that night. The full moon hung low, sending silver scimitars of broken glass slashing across the surface of the water, echoing vainly the diamond dusted sky.
She was in her armor and the uniform of her siblings- simple, elegant, flexible, and most of all, ~~beautiful~~ effective. Normally, she was talkative and energetic, using older language than I was accustomed to, outside of the rare historical reenactment I sometimes did. On that night, she was shy, quiet, informal. Distant, even. It was a cold shock to see someone normally so outlandish and handsy be so… _Small._
“What’s wrong, Charlie?”
An odd name, for a woman, I know. But she decided on it when she noticed the average English or American couldn’t pronounce her _actual_ name- Caoimhe. It’s a name that I’m still trying to get right- something like “kee-va”, I’m told, but there’s a lilt on the last that I can’t quite seem to capture.
She was silent for several minutes.
I sat and waited patiently as I could. She chewed her lip in that way that made my heart drum and set panic running through me. Her brow furrowed, her breathing deepened as though she was trying to calm herself. I had never seen her like this before, or since.
I began to panic. Really, truly panic. Had something happened? Did she not want to see me again? She has joked about marriage several times before, but was that all they were? Jokes?
Of course, it was in that moment that I realized I loved her. Truly, deeply love her.
She seemed “gone”- somewhere else, in her own little world. I led her over to a nearby bench, just a few meters from the water. The lapping waves would calm her, I hoped.
“Do you love me, Micheal?” Her voice rang out like a line of silver bells, only happy to be ringing.
I knew the answer. I had just decided only moments ago. But I thought for a moment, reflecting. I thought of the last two years, countless dates and small, private moments that I would cherish forever.
“Of course I do. But why…?”
“I love you, too.”
She moved, suddenly, turning around and reaching under the heavy coat. With baited breath, I watched.
In the next moment, she conjured a small box. It was unlike anything Man or Mortal-crafted. It was a wood I had never seen, that glittered in the moonlight like an unmarred field of snow.
She opened the box and revealed two large, golden, twisted rings- one that ended with snarling wolves, the other with sleek wise looking crows.
“I realized I loved you a year ago, today. Do you remember?”
I nodded. How could I forget? Instead of going on a date, we had spent the week fighting in a local tournament. Neither of us cared that we lost out in the round robin (I admit with no shame the fault was mine, even if she disagreed for my benefit), only that we had spent the exciting week together. It was on that day, the previous Valentine’s, that we had been awarded silver medals and celebrated with the finest dinner we could afford with the winnings.
“And I want to spend the rest of my life with you”, she finished plainly.
“Can you not?”
“Of course,” she began, “I could spend the rest of _your_ life with you. But not _mine.”_
Realization dawned on me then. She was Immortal; I was not.
She continued, “But we can change that. And that’s why…”
“Why?” I demanded, nearly shouting. I clapped a hand to my mouth, ashamed of breaking that stoicism she had complimented so many times.
“Why I hesitated and waited for so long before coming to you.”
And she explained her plan. We could “Oath” to each other. It was a magical binding, more serious than a wedding or any legal document. An Oathing would bing us to each other, through eternity. And, because she was Immortal, the Oathing would grant Immortality to me.
I had one question. One burning question I had kept buried for two years.
“But, Caoimhe, why _me?”_
We sat in silence for a long while, holding each other in the waning night and early spring cold.
“Why _not_ you?” | I'd only went on a first date with them because of the horse in their profile pic. A chestnut with a long, red mane and eyes like fire. But nearly a two weeks after that awful night they're still texting me every night. The fact that their hobbies included the board game Risk should have been enough of a red flag to warn me off.
They were charming enough at first, even a little romantic, and they didn't look half bad from a distance. My schedule has been pretty full the last couple weeks with work so we met up for a quick lunch, a nice little sandwich shop. Sadly the shop's only semi-vegetarian option was a tuna salad sub, don't get me wrong, I love tuna salad, I just have to make sure that I don't end up eating it more than once a week or it gets pretty boring. I can't remember what my date ordered, I think it was something with barbecue sauce on it because I remember trying to think of a funny pun to say but I was stuck on calling them a BBCutie which was perhaps a bit too forward for having just met. They insisted that we sit facing the entrance which was kinda strange, I'd wanted to sit out in the sun but they said that it was too crowded. It didn't cost me any effort to accommodate them so I just went with it.
The couple at the table next to us was bickering quietly about something inane. Our own conversation was a little bland too, we both glossed over any details about what we did for work, well, they said that they "patrolled the earth, stirring up war and all manner of strife"
At the time I assumed that just meant they travelled for work and liked to gossip. We bonded a little over both being stressed by work and not sleeping enough.
By the time we got our sandwiches the couple that was bickering had escalated into screaming at each other. I was so overwhelmed that I ended up just giving my date my phone number and taking my sandwich back to work to eat it. My date had been staring at the door too so I think they wanted to leave as well, oddly, when I touched their hand to hand them the napkin with my number they jumped as though I'd startled them.
Our second date was a little more formal, dinner at a nice restaurant. I was originally worried that they were going to ghost me after I abandoned them on the first date but we had some pretty solid text conversations in the intervening days. We met at a park close to the restaurant. I just walked from my apartment and they had some friends drop them off, the driver of the black sedan was a skinny white guy, I didn't really see in the backseat, all I saw was someone lost in a black hoodie and I kept hearing a third person coughing.
Our reservation wasn't until seven so we wandered around the park for a bit. I showed him around the duck pond, they were all quite friendly to me because I usually throw them frozen peas on my way to work. The ducks stayed well clear of my date though. This was apparently for good reason because when one walked close enough he kicked it.
I'm not terribly proud of this but I pushed them right into the pond and ran. He kept texting me for the rest of the day, one downside of phones becoming waterproof recently. | 2022-06-05T20:35:52 | 2022-06-05T20:29:18 | 20 | 10 |
[WP] You finally came up with a plan to get rid of the hero. You would go undercover and fall in love with his civilian identity before breaking his heart and killing him at his emotional lowest. A couple months later, you have experienced a complication in your plans. You’re pregnant.
Change around genders, POV, etc to suit your story. |
“What did you do?” bellows my primary source of malicious income. His pale yellow skull-face mask set in a perpetual frown made all the more menacing under the impressive cinder of his flame-like eyes. The usual hood that framed his portrait gave way to wild black tendril hair, splayed out erratically. His hair whipping about with abandon, telling of his dour mood.
All of it adding to his image as one of Kalatoss City’s most infamous villains, Nihilim.
As his partner (henchman, I make the plans, you do the superficial footwork), I had an obligation to give reason to his growing fury.
“I...uh...well.. The plan worked.”
“Oh. and pray tell, how is the current scenario playing out in any shape or form any sign that indicates success?” His arms were crossed against his chest and now standing firm with his hands on his hips.
“Well, she’s definitely heartbroken.”
“Along with several of my money printers, dozens of my mechs, and of course all of my vats of alchemic solutions.” with each word, he stomps closer and closer until his ember irises obscure all of my vision. “I seem to recall that alongside breaking her heart, you were suppose to drive the jewel stake into said bleeding heart.”
Nihilim stomps away and thrusts his hands toward a wall plastered with screens.
“That crazy super bitch seems to be in prime condition! Surprising for someone with an exploded HEART!” Each screen depicting various camera angles across the city while Nihilim directs toward the center screen which focused upon a feminine figure clad in red, white, and blue smashing machinery and robots to bits.
“...perhaps cuz she doesn’t have an exploded heart?”
His burning eyes snapped to me before dimming. Despite the fact that his mask does not emote, his expression screamed-
“Nah, really. YOU. DON’T. SAY!”
His palms slammed into his face as he lets out what could only be identified as a groan and a scream fused.
“Explain.”
And I did.
The plan was fairly troubling to be honest. OMG (One Mighty Girl, really, she couldn’t have made a better hero name) has been a thorn in our side since her debut 4 months ago. Sure, Megaton (Also a terrible name) has been interfering for years prior, but we’ve adapted the number one hero’s antics. Problem is, OMG seems to catch on to Nihl’s schemes even when we set up diversionary jobs. She always manages to hone in on the true machinations and that has been driving us up the wall.
I may have gone off track.
Back to the plan. It was troubling to be honest. One of us, i.e. me, had to figure out her secret identity. Which wasn’t hard thanks to my genius (While she was giving minion #82 a wallop, her cellular slipped, and you were lucky it was unlocked.) Once we had that covered, we, and again I mean me, endeavored to seduce the plucky heroine so that we can break her heart to demoralize and make it easier to remove her from our daily struggles.
Suffice to say. I succeeded!
Maybe too well.
Also the fact that I didn’t follow through with the whole killing OMG.
I don’t know why. I just didn’t do it.
“I hate you. I regret ever hiring you. I regret ever meeting you” Nihl’s form appears have the sulked as if an immense weight has been slammed upon his shoulders.
Whatever he was going to say next was lost to time as the wall filled with screens immediately exploded, filling the room with dust and debris.
The moment my vision cleared, my attention was taken by long legs clad in blue almost immediately. Eyes trailing up to a white top with the letters “OMG” blazen across a rather modest chest in wonderful technicolor. Hands capable of wonderful delights and most definitely terrible horrors were curled into malicious fists hung at her sides before rising up to remove a white hood, revealing red hair framing a round face. A black domino mask covers her eyes, but hides nothing of the absolute fury that has taken hold of her beautiful features. There hovers the heroine of the hour, OMG, in all of her glory.
“Heeeeeeeyyyyyy Mighty! What brings you by?” I can only hope that came out as smooth as intended, but I have doubts.
“Nyx” Her voice cut the air and any further attempts to lighten the mood was stalled. “You cock-ass two-faced bastard.” She floated towards me till she was hovering just over my body, forcing me to look straight up to meet her eyes. “I want nothing more than to turn you in a stain on the floor and the walls, but regrettably, we need to have words”
“Can you have your rightful rage outside of my lair?” My eyes snap to the side of the room. Nihls stood by wall-spanning windows, brushing dust off his shoulders. “Your spat is with Nyx, so kindly take him and have your mess somewhere else.”
Really? You’re gonna ditch your partner like that. The damn nerve.
A hand grabs my collar and hoists me off the ground. My eyes lock back with OMG’s as her brow hardens further.
“Whoa! Hold up! You’re just gonna let her take me!?” It seems I finally found my voice. “Mighty! I know you’re mad and all, but let's take a moment to cool off before you do something irreversible!”
“Please do something irreversible. The amount of trouble he’s been causing for me and that wretched entitlement he has been bearing since I promoted him has done nothing for me.” Nihl continues to throw me under the bus. I swear, if I get out of this, I’ll get payback.
“Now, now. Mighty. You are a cape, a hero. You don’t want to have blood on your hands. A murder on your concience. Please don’t kill me.”
“Shut up! Both of you!” OMG lowers me until my feet settle, but her grip on my collar remains stern. “I’m not gonna kill anyone. Especially you.” Her mask focuses on me.
“....Yay?” It’s alright to celebrate, right?
“I really want to, but I can’t.” And like that, the fear is back.
“If you’re not going to kill him, then why are you here?” Nihl, shut up you dick.
“I’m here to talk. It’s a personal matter.”
“You bust through my facility, ruin thousand dollar machines, and beat dozens of my guys for a personal matter?”
“Are you trying to get me killed, boss?!”
“Obviously, you’ve been doing shite work lately”
“What do you mean?! I’ve been busting my ass! I’ve been pulling production, logistics, and this inane plan of yours”
“Production’s down 15%, you’ve made errors on logistical orders, and if you haven’t noticed, OMG is still holding you by the collar.”
“It is a work in progres-”
OMG yanked me back face to face, nearly choking me out of my words.
“I’m pregnant you shit!”
Oh. Well, ain’t that just a spanner in the wo-
Whatever thought I had was lost as the ceiling exploded, filling the room once again with debris.
“What the hell! Stop making new holes! Use the ones that already exist!”
“What do you mean pregnant!?” That was a new voice. New, but very familiar. His silhouette was easy to make out in the dust. There is no one else in this city that had his frame, his muscles, or that ridiculous pompadour. Red, white, and blue stylize his super suit.
“Megaton’s here too?!” Nihl threw his hands out, completely flabbergasted with the situation.
“DAD?! What!? Were you spying on me?!” OMG immediately drops me. Looks like she's surprised too. Wait.
“Oh. right. His full hero title was Omegaton. OMG. Yea, I’m out.” I turn my head to watch Nihilim backwards through the window, shattering it as he falls with both his hands flipping the bird.
That sunnova- He really is just ditching me. I turn back to the newly identified father-daughter heroes. My fate’s already sealed. I just had to bring up one point, though.
“Both your naming conventions kind of suck” I say as a large fist takes my vision. | His eyes began to water as he looked at the black and white swirl on the monitor.
"Would you like to know the sex of the baby?" asked the obstetrician.
"We would." replied Robert. I simply smiled and nodded.
"It looks like you'll be having a girl."
Rob was speechless for the rest of the examination. After taking a small sample the medical and paternity results came back in 30 minutes with no surprises. The wonders of modern technology. Rob finally found his words once we stepped out into the parking lot.
"A daughter, we'll be having a daughter!"
"Yes it sounds wonderful darling, what do you think we should name her?"
I knew exactly what he would say, but I wanted the words to come out of his mouth.
"If it's okay with you," he paused, getting emotional again, "I'd like to name her after my aunt Evelyn"
"Of course dear, that sounds lovely." I replied "I'm sure if she were still with us, she'd be honored"
As he dabbed at his eyes with a handkerchief I reached out the touch him. He gasped as I placed my hand on his shoulder... and he shoved my arm to the side as I released a beam of red energy, turning the van beside us to shrapnel. Of course; I knew this wasn't going to be easy.
"What are you doing?" he growled, eyes were wide with confusion and surprise.
"Taking every advantage I can." I raised my other hand and fired another crimson energy beam, only managing to hit the brick wall surrounding the car park, as he deftly released me and rolled away, ducking behind an SUV. I myself moved as fast as a pregnant lady could to hide behind a small hatchback. I probably wouldn't need the cover but I wasn't going to be a victim of hubris.
"Who are you!?" He called out with a mixture of confusion and anger from behind the car "Why are you doing this?"
"I'm the future mother of you're daughter and I'm not going to explain my plan to you" In fact I would not have even said anything after my first shot if I didn't need to buy time to recharge. I reached over the bonnet and fired off another beam obliterating the SUV. When I took a chance to peak around, he was no where to be seen.
"No...It can't be". I turned to the voice on my left and saw him standing on the roof of a green sedan. When the realization reach his eyes he instinctively dropped into Blue Screen's signature offensive battle stance. "Red Handed!"
"Took you long enough" I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I already lost sight of the target once and I was lucky not to have been reduced to nothingness. "It looks like super reflexes doesn't equate to being super astute."
"But the last year-"
"All a ruse. All except for the pregnancy that is." I replied, firing another shot at where he was standing. He jumped out of the way, as my beam left a small smoking crater in the ground.
"But... our child."
"You expect becoming a mother would stop me from achieving my goals?" I decided to engage in a few extra seconds of banter instead of taking another shot. I needed a chance to catch my breath. "It's the twenty third century; try to be more progressive."
"Please stop this Jenifer, we can stop, and just live happily together. We can forget the past. I'll talk to The Guild and-" I fired two half powered laser consecutively, one where he was standing and one where I expected him to jump. But he had already raised a shield of blue energy in anticipation, deflecting my second beam it into the sky.
"Please think of our daughter." he pleaded with me.
"I have. Our daughter will grow up in a life of comfort and luxury. A princess and maybe one day a queen in the new world order... If she wants to be, I won't force my life choices onto her like my parents tried to do with me." I replied, before taking another moment to choose my next words deliberately, "Our daughter will be free to do whatever makes her happy. And unless you decide to obliterate me before she is born, Evelyn *will* be happy."
That line caught him off guard. The next beam incinerated his foot as he jumped into the air, causing him to crumple to the floor upon landing.
"So this is why you decided to keep her?" he asked with deep pain in his voice as he pushed himself up. "to use our unborn child as leverage?"
"What can I say? I'm a villain." I replied, "Or at least I am in your story. Though I *have* always wanted to be a mother."
The explosions would have alerted The Guild and I had to end this soon. His injury alone still wouldn't have been enough for me to defeat him though. Blue Screen's primary power was the turning point of every rebellion in the last decade; Shut down. The power to cause someone to cease being with a gesture. No middle ground, no dimmer switch. And if it weren't for my tiny hostage, he would have already deleted me from existence. But now, injured as he was, I knew he couldn't run away. His shield wouldn't outlast a full powered continuous assault from my beam. He would have to make a choice.
"This is it Blue Screen," I charged one last attack and stared directly at the red glint reflected off the betrayal in his eyes. "Kill us or die." | 2021-02-05T15:07:02 | 2021-02-05T14:30:26 | 28 | 20 |
[WP] The Greek god Apollo has fallen in love with you, remembering how his previous relationships went, he’s decided ask Zeus to make you a minor god so that you don’t bite the dust. | Zeus groaned as he had been for the past hour. Apollo wanted to have a quick 'chat' after Olympus's godly bi-annual meeting, asking about 'abandoned realms' and 'niches' and whatnot. This new mortal Apollo had a fling with was growing to be a source of irritation for him.
"No."
"Wait, but you haven't even *considered* it!"
"I don't need to. We've had millennia to fill domains and now they are complete. We do not need anymore."
"Yes, but-"
"Enough!" Zeus boomed. His voice thundered throughout the open room and into the clouds around them. "They were born a mortal, they will die a mortal. If you are so willing to come to me for a domain, then perhaps you should give them that by yourself."
Apollo sulked, but with another stern look from his dad, he left the hall. Artemis, who was talking to Athena on the stairs outside, saw her brother pass without a word. His usual sunny disposition was replaced by a rainy cloud above his head. Her heart sank - her brother hardly ever got down and mopey.
"He's looking a bit sullen, isn't he?" Athena asked, having followed Artemis's line of sight.
"It's that new mortal he's been courting."
"*Courting*?" Athena said in disbelief. "There are some things I simply cannot believe."
"I've seen him, you know, by the ponds in the southernmost garden. He just looks into the water and asks the naiads for help, he's that desperate."
Athena looked unimpressed. "Do they help?"
Artemis snorted and watched Apollo disappear behind a column. "They're naiads. They probably told him to go confess his undying love, then whisk them away. That doesn't fix his problem."
Athena felt the gears begin to turn in her head. "No. It doesn't."
\-
Sometime after the meeting, Apollo met up with you at your apartment. It was Marvel movie night, and despite the anxiety over your mortality Apollo was the loving boyfriend the whole evening. The loving, loud, *I-talk-while-the-movie-is-playing-and-I-expect-feedback,* hungry boyfriend. The hungry, hungry boyfriend who had eaten all your snacks.
"Are you serious?"
"Hmph?" He was looking at you dead serious with a mouth full of popcorn kernels like nothing was wrong. Then nearly choked when he saw your face.
"They haven't even trapped Loki in the Helicarrier and you've already eaten everything." you complained, and Apollo waited until he had finished his fistful before responding, "Okay?"
"That's like, not even halfway through the movie!" You made a *shoo* motion. "Go get some fruit from the bowl." He pouted.
"But I wanna watch!"
"You always nitpick the fun stuff, I'm sure you'll be fine."
"Listen, the gods in this movie are *garbage-"*
"Hush. Fruit please."
Apollo got up and walked into the kitchen, picking out three apples, cleaning them, and gave one to you. You unpaused the movie and settled next to each other.
You'd started on your apple first, munching on it as you watched, while he turned one of his in his hands, the other on the table. After a while of watching mortal fiction, he took a bite.
And nearly spit it out.
He stopped chewing and looked at the hole he had torn open. In the dim light of the TV, he could see a shimmer, a shine, and at closer inspection, he discerned to be gold. A very very, incredibly too-sweet apple with golden flesh. He suffered chewing the piece he already had in his mouth and looked at the apple's skin, and found a marking.
"*Goddamn*."
"What was that, sweetheart?"
Apollo looked at you, eating another apple with gold flesh that you hadn't yet realized, looking nondescript.
"Nothing. Did you just call me *sweetheart*?"
"Oh my *gosh*."
Apollo didn't eat his apple but offered it to you when you were done with yours. The third one. was tucked away until the next morning. After Apollo had tucked you in and checked on Helios, he went straight to Athena. | As I was approached by a man claiming to be Apollo, at first I was scared because a crazy man was talking to me, then he pricked his thumb and the blood was gold, and that scared me more. Then he said that he would like to go out with on a few dates. I was not opposed to the idea but was still trying to comprehend the existence of gods. I screamed for three hours. Then I realized that if Apollo had wanted to date me, then I was in trouble. Turning into a plant wasn't an option, and I don't live near a cliff. Good thing I have sharp things, right? Nope, my wrist was slit and thirty minutes later I am still oozing golden blood. I refuse to go to anything related to Apollo, but I kind of would like a doctor now. So maybe I won't be noticed in the hospital? Who am I kidding, a guy walks in with a slit wrist, golden blood, and is just calm, yeah if I go outside I am going to be noticed.
What am I even the God of? It's been a few weeks since I came to terms with everything. I have a healthy relationship with Apollo, live on Olympus, and am immortal. But apparently still have to work in some way, so I am now the God of menial office work. It's more fun if people don't know that though. | 2020-09-21T13:19:43 | 2020-09-21T11:58:19 | 36 | 16 |
[WP] Death is not some all powerful being. Rather, she's a socially awkward outcast. Somehow, you've managed to befriend her and things have started getting weird... | I sat at the train station, trying my best to ignore the question I had just been asked by my relatively new friend sitting beside me. It had been a few months since I met Dina and I had had some suspicions but nothing to cement what I thought. Could she actually BE death? It seemed like since we had started hanging out, weird things were happening everywhere we went. A man would jump off a high building into the street, or a car crash would occur a few lanes ahead of us. Events like these weren't too rare in New York, the city that never sleeps but since I had met Dina they had become far too common.
I had always imagined death to be an all mighty being, capable of crushing the earth in their hand. But if my suspicions were correct, death was just a socially awkward girl who spilled her coffee on me at the Starbucks on 14th street. My friends thought I was crazy the day I told them I was going to ask out the girl who went out every day in dorky glasses and clothes that look like they could have been inherited from an older brother. They thought I was even crazier when I told them I thought she was death herself. I didn't care, though. I was wildly fascinated by Dina and I wasn't going to let my stupid friends get in the way of that. It was impossible to count how many relationships of mine they had already ruined.
"How would you like to die?" The words she had said echoed in my brain and I didn't know how to respond. It seemed like such a dark question, even for Dina, who seemed so unbothered by any death we had witnessed over the past few months. Many thoughts raced through my head as I wondered what her underlying intentions were by the question she has asked. It seemed like there was always an underlying intention with her. She would ask me if I liked a shirt someone was wearing, only to give me that shirt the next day. Stuff like that didn't bother me, it was nice, it was who she was. This was eerie, though. Something about her tone of voice screamed that something was up.
It was a week ago when she told me we had to get away somewhere safe. I thought she was crazy, New York is where I had lived my entire life. I went along with what she was saying though because she seemed genuinely concerned about something. It confused me though because everything seemed to be going great with her. That's what I thought at least. I could never be sure because there was always a sense of mystery about her. Whenever I tried to ask about where she was from, if she had a family, what she was doing in New York or anything else she would give me the same cold, hard answer. You don't want to know. It was the mystery of her life that had me worried and excited about her at the same time. I could spend eternity having a conversation with her, despite the fact that everyone I knew that had met her thought she was an absolute bore to talk to. I never saw that though, I was always just... Fascinated. That's the only word I could think of to describe my feelings towards her.
So there we were. Sitting at the train station with tickets to Baltimore. We weren't going to Baltimore though. That's what she kept telling me. We were going to go somewhere special, somewhere we could be together forever. I didn't know what she meant but I could have cared less. I just wanted to settle down and start a life with her.
The train started to pull into the station but something was up. The train started to screech and soon enough it began to fall off of the rails. Everyone around us started to run and scream. Just as I was about to follow suit, Dina's hand slammed against my chest in a way that made me compelled to stay right where I was amidst the chaos caused by the crashing train. As the train came rushing towards us, I felt a sense of calm. We were going somewhere safe. But maybe calling it starting a life together was the wrong way to say it. | A quiet series of knocks on the door drew my attention. I looked up from my laptop, my eyes barely over the top of the screen.
The door slowly cracked open, and I saw her eyes peek in and scan the room, resting them on me, then veering over to the table to my right.
She slowly pushed through the doorway and tiptoed across the carpet, trying not to make a sound. Her oddly forced gait and mistimed pauses to look about was more than enough for me to continue staring.
She walked over to the table, on which a cage sat atop, with some bedding and a water container within.
She opened the cage, scooped out one of my older hamsters, and turned around, slowly tiptoe-ing in the same manner she came in.
With the hamster in one hand and the doorknob in the other, she gazed about one last time. A smirk and a half enthusiastic wave later, she left, door partially shut.
I looked back at my laptop screen and continued to browse. | 2017-01-21T07:51:36 | 2017-01-21T07:45:11 | 93 | 13 |
[WP] You are a freshman in a school where everyone has a unique ability/power, but the school is divided into students who have "good" powers and "evil" powers. You are a powerful necromancer who wishes to do good in the world, but everyone is dead set on you being a "bad guy". | "Thomas," Richard Feynman said, "this treatment is just appalling." The skeleton beside me, overlayed with the features of the long dead physicist in ethereal goo, was carrying my book on elementary physics.
I removed the note on my locker, 'evil beware' it said. "They just don't understand alright?" Necromancy wasn't really seen as something one of the good guys would use—defiling the dead and all that jazz—and unfortunately, super college wasn't any much nicer than the rest of the world. I guess it reminded them too much of how fragile life was.
"Bastards," Ernest Hemingway said. He had a book in his hands, a simple journal he'd taken to writing in. I commissioned him for a little help on how to better frame myself with dealing with my more—eloquent critics. He was doing it in exchange for more writing time, while Feynman was in it for the heck of it and because I sucked at physics.
"As long as they stay on their lane, it's all good." I could repress their memories too of course, I just choose not to.
"And when they start swerving?" Hems frowned.
"Then the legions of hell will come to my aid."
"We could also say Valhalla," Chad said. "A lot less malevolent, and more on the side of epic heroism."
"Bah! Brutes!" Hems spat. "A bunch of muscle heads!"
"Effective either way." Chad raised an eyebrow, and Hems shrugged in reply.
"Fair point."
"Thanks you two." Okay, maybe talking to long dead people wasn't the healthiest way of going through my most socially formative years.
"Just call us back later," Chad said.
"And call Doug just in case," Hens added. General McArthur wasn't my favorite summon—but the guy knew combat like I knew how to piss, like he was born with the damned instincts and hardware to do so damn well.
"Will do." My powers were surprising in that I had never encountered a limit to the number of bodies yet—granted I'd only been summoning people I knew wouldn't run amok. Famous scientists, artists, politicians—I called them all back to learn what they knew, and some were way different than what the documentaries and biographies wrote of them.
The two shades dissolved in a haze of black—PR wasn't my strongest suit—and returned to whatever temporal mind-space they waited in wherever. My powers presented apparent proof to the lack of an afterlife—given no one I called back ever seemed to be in pain or under my full control—or so I thought, but that was still up for debate. Neither Hems nor Chad would tell me about it, and I didn't want to find out either.
Someone shoved me from behind, hard. I stumbled forward into the lockers and dropped my book and Hems's journal. "Your ghost buddies finally gone?" It was Matt, a guy with power over ice, and one of the more prominent seniors—he had on a nasty grin. Funny how someone training to be a hero was bullying someone branded a villain.
"You know, its not very smart to fuck with the person you lot call the demon king." The legions of hell bit came from that.
"Then that'd prove you the villain you are." He had his lackeys with him—side-sidekicks, bottom feeders, leeches really.
"Its called self-defense if someone instigates you into a conflict." He wasn't the smartest of the seniors—and the actual brainiacs of their bunch all loved me, calling back old heroes like Iron Samurai or Cyclotron to teach us a thing or two: read as hand our asses to us on silver gilded porcelain dinnerware. And yeah, bringing back supers in their full glory was seriously making me reconsider my thoughts on being one of the more mundane of the school. I could also consider the possibility of having god-like powers—but that felt way too close to hubris.
"It's called entrapment, bones." Matt tapped at his temple. "Get with the program." He flashed a shit-eating grin.
"That only works if you don't throw the first punch."
"And I didn't." He flashed another grin.
I groaned. God help us all if this idiot was given a super's display and use license—accreditation to use their powers within areas declared as safe zones.
Matt left after—but not before cuffing me a good one. If I lashed out—he could be dead, but I would also have lost. And any other iteration less than dead would work worse for me no matter what, therefore if I were to do anything, it must be made to look like an accident.
Which was way more effort than I was willing to expend on anything not directly beneficial to me—like world peace. | I hate school so much that I could just die! Not that it would make much of a difference now that I've got my phylactery set up. I'd just resurrect with a headache like I always do after one of the holier-than-thou jocks decides to give me a hard time. And the principal doesn't even do anything about the bullying! He's too busy fluffing the egos of the super-athletes with their super speed and their super strength!
I swear, just because I dress all in black and cut myself they think I'm evil. I cut myself for my blood magic! I couldn't live with myself if I had to cut anyone else! And the black clothing is much more soothing to the eyes of my zombies! They just don't get it. No one understands me and it sucks so much!
That's the real reason why I hang out in graveyards all the time. At least the skeletons will throw me a bone every now and then, and the mummies might offer a muffled word of encouragement while I'm fitting their wrappings. The only people that really get me are the people I bring back to undeath!
If only everyone else could just look past their prejudices, they'd see all the good I can do. Nobody cares that I talk to ghosts and deliver their final wishes and warm words to their grieving families. Nobody cares that I have a whole legion of skeletons that staff soup kitchens and animal shelters. Nobody cares. It makes me wonder why I bother trying at all.
Sorry for the rant, everyone. Sometimes I just need to vent. I hope you're doing better than I am right now.
Death and love,
-Raven Ebony Doombringer.
#undeadlivesmatter #blackisafashionchoice #cuttingforworldpeace | 2016-08-28T07:25:57 | 2016-08-28T05:49:02 | 384 | 62 |
[WP] You are a nice person, but your superpower is that you instinctively know exactly what to say to someone to crush them. You're very effective in throwing supervillains off their game, but your fellow heroes always feel really uncomfortable watching you work. | "Mary was right about you." I don't know why I said it. Maybe it was courage or some kind of fucked up bravado, or a cowardly plee in a desperate attempt to save my own skin. I had stood at the front of the crowd, the death ray aimed between my eyes and the urge came from somewhere deep inside me and I blurted it out.
Doktor Karnage stopped his cackling immediately and looked out from behind his death ray. His face was concealed behind goggles, but his expression was still readable in every line visible on his face. "Vut?" he asked as the death ray slowly powered down.
I hadn't even really processed what I'd said and stammered for a moment. Almost a moment too long, but the urge came up in me again. "I said Mary was right about you. She was always right about you and everything you do to prove her wrong just makes her more right and nothing you could ever do or say can ever take back what you did."
He stopped and stared at me for a moment before his mouth turned to a snarl. He wrenched the lever on the death ray and what had been a calm sigh turned to an erratic shriek." How dare you!" Doktor Karnage shouted." I vill make you pay for those insolent vords!"
In a moment of panic I tried to apologize but it came out all wrong. What was supposed to be "I'm sorry please don't disintegrate me" instead turned to "go ahead and do it. Killing me won't make me wrong. It won't bring her back to you. Do it. Do it and prove to the whole world that Mary was right about you from the start!" I realized I was shouting at the same time I realized I was now pressing my face against the beam emitter.
Nothing happened.
I waited, my eyes squeezed shut. I tried to find more words to buy more time but there just weren't any more." I..." the Doktor said. That was all he said. Without another word he deactivated the death ray, picked it up and departed through the Vormhole device. The silence after he departed was profound.
Later, people would ask me who Mary was, and what she had been right about. I didn't know. I never found out, and the Doktor never reared his head again.
So that was my origin story. No radioactive chemicals or supernatural forces. Just some guy who happened to be on a white house tour and said a thing.
---------
"That's all I am. Just a guy who said a thing." My eyes were unfocused as I stared out the window and saw an indistinct flock of birds against an indistinct cloud against a blue sky. "That's all I am, doc. Just a guy."
Doctor Carol, my shrink, stopped and considered what I'd said. She mulled her thoughts for a moment before she spoke. "It seems to me that the difference between a hero and a villain is that a hero knows when to not use their abilities. It isn't who you destroy with a sentence, it's who you don't that matters."
"I'm not a hero, doc. I'm just a guy." I knew the words well enough. I could hardly stop myself from saying them.
"I want you to focus on who you decide not to destroy." She said, clicking her pen shut. "And I think the best person you could start with is yourself. Stop telling yourself you're just some guy."
"But I'm..." maybe she was right. I never finished that sentence. It was time to stop destroying myself. | Known in the underground as the villain "the dark masquerade" as a supervillain yourself, but as lord niceties as you superhero persona. You have been tasked by the council of hero's to find and arrest the evil "dark masquerade." Chuckling you head out on your mission and adopt the mysterious persona taunting your fellow heros, crushing their spirits. Your favorite insult is calling them by their secret identity be it Thomas from HR in your accounting job, or Karen from across the street. The day comes when the hero's Alliance learns of your trickery and hunts you down together with sound damping earplugs so your barbed words pass unheard crushing you to your core. | 2020-02-25T15:08:26 | 2020-02-25T14:53:54 | 124 | 10 |
[WP] Every time someone lies to you, money is deposited into your checking account. The larger the lie, the larger the deposited amount. Your account balance increased a million dollars since yesterday. You’ve only spoken to your significant other since yesterday. | I leaned back in the office chair sitting directly across the private investigator. The walls were lined with mahogany wood, matching the large imperial desk in front of me.The office smelled like a cinnamon candle, but I didn't see anything emitting a fragrance, almost like it naturally had a pleasant scent.
"So, what do you got for me, Roger? What's my wife lying to me about?" I cocked an eyebrow.
Roger Thurston looked like an older gentleman with his silver hair, but he was actually in his late forties. Cunning with a sense of youth to his face. He opened up the file and furrowed his brow.
"Uh, Mr. Davidson, can you tell me what exactly happened again? The day you found out your wife was lying to you about something?"
"Sure? I came back home from my first ever business trip at my new job and when I asked my wife what she did while I was gone, she said 'nothing,' and just the way she said it I knew she was lying but I didn't think it necessarily meant that she was cheating," I said.
*I had a girlfriend before who cheated on me and I received $1,000 when she lied to me and said she wasn't. When my wife lied to me from the week where I went on my business trip, I had earned a million...*
"Do you know much about what your wife does in the evening? In general?"
"Sleeps in bed with me?" I leaned closer with burning curiosity.
"I would like to watch your house on a night where you're staying with your wife. The past week where I was offering my surveillance services, I found something quite, unusual, and I can't overstate that enough. Mr Davidson, I've worked on a lot of cases over the years, discovered many unfaithful relationships and I've also found missing people... I've never seen anything like this."
"Well cut to the chase, what are we dealing with here?" I asked irritably.
"How well do you know your wife?"
"She's my wife, I thought I knew her pretty damn well! We've been together over 5 years."
"Do you ever wake up in the middle of the night and she's not there?" Roger scratched his chin.
"What? No," I rubbed my forehead. "I sleep great, won't you just tell me what the hell is going on?" I raised my voice.
Roger paused. "For the past week I have been following your wife. Every day that you were gone she would leave promptly at 11:00 p.m. she would drive all the way up sunset avenue and I would follow for about a half hour. It was tricky though, I had to distance myself as to not be too obvious. I've been doing this for years and I like to think of myself as professional."
"I would hope so with how much I'm paying you," I scoffed.
"You could never be too sure if someone knows you're tailing them, especially with someone as sharp as your wife."
I flinched. "How do you mean? I never thought of my wife as someone with intelligence beyond ordinary, I always thought she had average just like me."
"Allow me to finish. I followed her, every night down the stretch of road that outlined the lake. The first night, she pulled up on a gated property, and I jotted the address down. I knew that I would have to look for an entry point or figure out a way to get past the gate another night.
"The following day I scoped out the perimeter and found a corner that didn't quite have a camera on it. It was fenced all around with bushes right behind the fence, so as you can imagine, you have limited sight lines. I also tried calling the address but there was no phone line that would answer.
"The following night your wife went down there again, and I pulled off the side of the road and snuck in, right in that perfect little corner. I was in the backyard and I'll never forget what I saw.
"In front of me was a group of people wearing deer skulls over their heads, completely quiet. They brought out these white candles and were dressed in an assortment of robes colored by ranking I believed. I snapped some pictures and stayed for the outdoor ceremony.
"They all sat in rows on the floor, and 6 people carried out a marble vault, and the leader who wore the only purple set of robes, threw ashes on it and made a prayer. A golden light would shine, and then they would take this vault inside.
"I tried like hell getting inside that mansion, but I could only watch the opening outdoor ceremony, getting in there was impossible without being caught...
"But I found out the leader in the main purple robes was in fact, your wife."
I stood there gaping at Roger, not believing a word he said until he slid the pictures to me from the other side of his desk.
r/randallcooper | 'Honey, I am home!' I said closing the door behind me.
Elisa walked out of the bedroom in that red dress of hers that makes my blood run wild. I took a big gulp and stared at her from head to toe.
'You did not pick up my calls today.' I managed to speak. Then I remembered her weakness since last week, 'How was the doctor's appointment?'
'Oh. Is that what all you can think about after your long journey? Don't you like this dress on me?' Elisa said.
I put my jacket on a chair, went to Elisa and pulled her in my embrace. 'I love it. But I love you more.' I kissed her. She did not feel her usual self. 'Now tell me, what did the doctor say?'
'Oh. It was nothing. He gave me some medications and now I feel much better.' Elisa replied.
'Wow.' I kissed her again. 'I'm so glad to hear that. You have no idea how worried I was during the drive. Now let me shower first. I feel dirty.'
'I like you all dirty baby.' Elisa smirked.
My phone pinged. I remembered that my boss was going to send me an important email. I unlocked the phone and there was not email waiting for me, but a text message from my bank.
I forgot breathing and tapped on the message. It read:
**$1,057,324 credited your account No ending XX4548 on...**
I could not read any further. My eyes were stuck on the amount. I double-checked. Maybe I was seeing commas where there was meant to be a dot.
I felt my vision blur and felt a tear roll down my cheek. I looked up at Elisa and caught her staring at herself in the mirror with a melancholy look. | 2020-08-28T11:26:06 | 2020-08-28T10:37:13 | 96 | 50 |
[WP] It turns out humanity was the first, and only spacefaring species to master the atom. After a horrific galactic war, humanity had to bring out its nuclear weapons, to the shock and horror of the rest of the galaxy. | Gabriel knew his name would become synonymous with traitor. But really, what did it matter? Better to be a traitor than to be subservient to madmen, or to look the other way as the galactic genocide continued. On the ship's holographic screen, the tiny pinprick of the green planet was growing -- a grassy blade slowly becoming a hillock.
He'd been a soldier once-upon-a-time. Back before wisps of grey hair had strangled his natural blond. Before the pain arrived that squeezed his back each time he leaned over the ship's dashboard. Before the Totanians had been wiped clean from their planet that was now a charred ball of black -- a radiated graveyard of a once-great species.
Gabriel had been one of the first to sign-up when the war had broken out. Five civilizations battling for control of this sector of space -- as if the empty blackness contained any meaning at all, anything worthwhile. It wasn't even a barren no-man's land they'd been fighting over... it was literally *nothing*.
Supply and mining ships on their way from Earth to a new colony in the Betelgeuse system had gotten caught in the war's crossfire. That had forced the Solar Alliance -- and Gabriel -- into the fray.
It was strange, thinking back, how glitzy and glamourous a war in space had once sounded. Like those old films he'd watched growing up. Men charging out of fox-holes and bunkers and sticking a flag down in the liberated land. But by the end of the first year of the Solar Alliance's involvement, all of Gabriel's friends in the corps had been killed, their ships annihilated.
Their deaths had been the first pang of guilt to swell in his stomach. Why had Gabriel had survived and they hadn't? What was the purpose of his living while those around him died? -- He felt like there had to be a greater reason for each dogfight he survived.
When the Committee had voted to do something that would have seemed unbelievable only a year before, Gabriel had nodded, silently. The right choice. It would end the war early -- and there would be fewer casualties in the end.
The war between the civs had historically been fought in space and *only* in space. That was the way of the galaxy -- few civilians could be killed if there was no war on a planet's surface.
Humanity changed the rules.
"We deliver a couple of little parcels," his commander had told him, "onto one or two of the planets, and that's it. Game over. We've then done what they couldn't achieve in a thousand fucking years."
Gabriel had believed it. None of the other species had developed nukes... And once they saw the destruction, the fiery mushroom hell that only humans could deliver... That would be the end of all war forever. They would bow. And yes, humanity would have done something bad -- something terrible, even. But for the right reasons and for a just cause.
Only it hadn't been that simple.
Never was, Gabriel figured.
The 'green planet' careened into view. That had been its nickname back when it had been pristine. Now it was a smoldering muddy wreck, cratered and barely habitable. Not green anymore.
A ship orbited the planet -- twenty-times the size of Gabriel's one-man craft.
"Greetings, Gabriel Launder," crackled a voice over his intercom. "You may dock when you're ready."
Could he really do this?
The problem with the nukes had been first been demonstrated on Totania. Yes, they had inflicted the damage the Solar Alliance had intended. But the Totanians didn't just throw their hands up and surrender, as had been predicted.
They didn't surrender after a hundred nukes had fallen. Not even after a thousand.
They had *never* given up.
Not until the very last one of them had screamed into a fiery nothingness.
Every species involved in the war was proud -- and rightfully so. And they were all sickened by what the Solar Alliance had done. None would surrender to such a callous race of beings.
In time, Gabriel had been sickened, too. These weren't fighters or warriors they were bombing. These were children and parents and teachers and all the things he kept precious in his sugar-coated recollections of his own childhood.
The bombings were still happening. The galaxy-wide cleansing. It would continue until humanity was the final space-faring species in the galaxy.
Unless he did this.
Unless he gave them all the secrets of the atom.
Because the only kind of destruction humans ever respected, was mutual.
"I'm ready to dock," said Gabriel.
---
I raced my regular co-writer Ecstatic to write for this. I don't want to say hers was faster and better, but... :) If you enjoyed either /r/nickofstatic has lots of serials by both of us :) | WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT!
How was this even possible? What the humans had done, it was unthinkable. Impossible. No one did things like that. No one. Why would they want to?
The mission was supposed to be simple and straightforward. The Golemites held a fortified position, and threatened war, but they weren't serious, not really. This was more of a labor dispute than anything else. Any sane creature could see that.
Naes knew the steps by rote, the Golemites did this every thousand years or so. Even greenest recruits knew. They would "rebel" and threaten war, then the counsel would send a response team. Both sides would threaten, and there would be a few sorties, but few would actually die.
So Naes brought the humans along. Why not? They could get some experience and see how war was handled in the rest of the universe. The humans were eager. Far too eager. It should have been a warning sign, but what could they really do? They were soft and squishy. They had no horns, no claws, no scales. And their "guns" as they called them had no chance of piecing the Golemites.
But they were insistent. Their general said they would "make glass of them" whatever that was supposed to mean. The humans would attack, realize their ineffectiveness and retreat. It was all so simple.
He had even contacted the Golemites. They knew the humans were coming and had agreed not to kill any if they could help it. It was the first step towards peace, and not a single live lost. At least it should've been.
But these humans. How could anyone do such a thing.
Note: This is my first time attempting one of these and I kinda forgot about the galactic war part. I had fun writing it though. Hope you enjoy! | 2022-12-15T08:44:27 | 2019-12-19T08:18:07 | 431 | 11 |
[WP] You lost your sight - along with everyone else on Earth - in The Great Blinding. Two years later, without warning, your sight returns. As you look around, you realize that every available wall, floor and surface has been painted with the same message - Don't Tell Them You Can See. | When The Blinding first occurred, I thought I was the only individual affected. I was sitting at my desk working on a school paper and in an instant, everything went black.
I had cried out to my parents in fear and confusion, but their response was like an echo of my own. They, too, couldn't see. And we soon learned the entire world had been victim to having their sight filled with darkness. Interestingly enough, we don't think this affected any of the animals living on Earth. Just us humans. The only strange thing that occurred after this was the fact that the demand for Milk skyrocketed.
At first, adapting was extremely difficult. Something as mundane and simple as using the bathroom had become a daily challenge I didn't look forward to.
Within a few months, support groups had been created by individuals who were already blind prior to the incident. They assisted those who were struggling with adapting to their newfound obstacle.
Thankfully, the world never really stopped moving or progressing. Outside of major adjustments that had to be made, such as devising a different mode of transportation or different requirements and standards in the working world, we managed to pull through.
It's been about 2 years since The Blinding and there were times where I had forgotten such an event occured.
I was taking a short walk to the store to get some groceries. I don't know why, but I've developed an almost dependency like state on milk. I had gripped the handle to the door to the small grocery store and pushed the door open. A bell was hung on the inside handle of the door.
"Hello, let me know if you need help finding anything." A voice said to my right.
"Thanks, Dave. I will." I responded.
"Hey John! How've you been?" he asked with a somewhat enthusiastic tone.
With a somewhat slow pace I walked around the store, feeling along the brail to determine if I had found my item.
"Pretty much the same" I said with a bit of a chuckle.
My hand touched something cold. Finally. Found the milk.
As I was about to open the door I could see my reflection in the rectangle shaped window of the cooler.
I wasn't entirely sure how to react nor was I sure as to what happened. I was looking. At myself. In a mirror. For the first time in two years.
I started shaking and I could feel warmth and moisture filling my eyes.
I noticed writing on the reflection itself. I was so excited I hadn't even noticed. In fact, most of the interior was covered in this writing. Looked a little closed at the message written in black.
*Don't tell them you can see.*
What the hell does that mean? Who's them?
I then caught a glimpse of the individual standing behind the counter of the store.
Who...what the fuck is that...
"John? You need some help buddy?" it asked. It had Dave's voice, but it definitely wasn't Dave. And the way it's mouth moved was...
Wait, is that it's mouth? I have no idea.
I was staring at something that was at least 6 feet tall. Grotesque and eldritch was the only way I could describe it. It's dark brown skin was smooth and moist with extremely tiny openings in its skin. It wasn't wearing any type of clothing. It's arms were somewhat long and thin looking appendages that ended in human looking hands. Its head was shaped like a large Basket Ball. The creatures mouth looked to be in a vertical position and when it spoke I could see many layers and rows of crocodile like teeth.
"Here John, let me come help." It said. Its voice had changed as well. It was gurgled and sounded like it was being put through a filter.
As it moved I could hear it squish against the floor. That's the first time I've ever heard that. Why am I hearing that just now? Why have I never heard that before?
Instead of gaping at the reflection and trying to ascertain how it walks, I simply stared at a jug of milk.
That's when I noticed the color of the milk. It wasn't white or brown or any color a milk should be. It was dark black.
As the creature grew closer a foul smell harassed my nostrils. It took everything I had not to vomit.
It reached out with it's human like appendage and touched my shoulder.
My entire body tensed up.
"We're having a lot of different specials on milk today." It said and I could see its mouth open wide behind my head with what I assumed was a smile. | It's been weeks since I regained my sight. The messages... the **message** was scrawled everywhere. In different mediums, different handwriting... always you could see the frantic fear in the strokes of paint or blood or dirt or shit.
Weeks since I felt the joy of regained sight, replaced immediately by ultimate fear. I didn't even know what I was afraid of. Who "Them" were. But the message was everywhere and you bet your ass I was afraid.
For weeks I've been pretending to still be blind, going about my 'normal' life. I walk most places with my eyes shut, worried about giving myself away... after all, *someone* might see me. So many messages, it can't have been one person who wrote them. And they can't have done it blind. So -- somewhere out there -- there are sighted people. And they left a message *for* sighted people.
***So are "Them" blind?***
The realization stops me in my tracks. Another pedestrian bumps me and immediately goes around without an apology -- collisions are expected in the new world.
*Written messages would be useless if... whoever-they-are could see them... But then how--*
In that moment I see a man on a far street corner. He is leaned against a building, watching me intently. **Watching me.** His eyes dart to one side and I glance over to see two men clad in black, wearing silk blindfolds, cutting too-efficiently through the crowd, coming right for me. The man at the corner slips away. I feel the fear gripping me anew. | 2022-10-09T01:59:27 | 2019-08-26T08:07:49 | 4,287 | 96 |
[WP] The Apocalypse has arrived. Jesus has come back, and he's on a brutal "rapture" spree, slaughtering people everywhere. The bright star of Satan descends and he appears at a UN press conference. He says, "before I fix this mess for you guys again, it's time you heard my side of the story..." | His hooves burn cloven etchings into the wood floor as he approaches the podium. Skin bright red with crimson leathery wings politely tucked behind his should blades. His eyes bulge as he scans the room. Steaming drool drips from his fanged lips. He spots something recognizable and leaps from the podium, landing softly at the ambassador from Israel.
Yiddish was exchanged until the assembly heard a voice cry out in disbelief.
“English?!” The demon spouts. “Those swamp hags managed to make that much of an impact?”
He flew back towards the podium, shaking his head and lands with a sigh at the microphone. He clears his formerly guttural voice to a clean, salesperson sheen.
“As you flesh bags may have guessed, what with Jesus running around delivering torturous salvation, that yes, I am a demon from hell. Not just a demon but THE demon. Satan, pleased to meet you. Now, no I am not Lucifer. He hates you all far too much to show up in person, but he sends the message of ‘HA HA told you so.’ More on that in a second. Now I am also not Beelzebub. That’s more for your edification. That guy is a big nasty bug, an overall asshole, and never cleans the common kitchen area! In all the layers of hell this fucking guy...“ Satan’s clawed hand pinches his crooked nose. “I’m getting off track here.” He waves his hands apologetically and clears his throat.
“You all probably want to know why Jesus showed up here delivering retribution.” Satan extended a hand out toward the crowd and scans the grand hall. The remainder of the assembly nodded in agreement. Most of the UN had either been unceremoniously raptured by the murderous Savior or committed suicide in the aftermath. Most of the African, South American, and Russian delegations remained because they had seen worse than what Jesus had delivered. Canada and France remained mostly by being innocuous or hiding behind the godless Latvians.
“Jesus came back because you all have utterly just pissed him right off. In his mind he died for you and all he gets in return is a barely recognized mention on his birthday? I mean guys you had to have seen this coming. Hah! Just joking guys.” Satan cackled. “Should have seen the look on your faces. Especially you Jean! Yes, I know that freaky shit you’re into at home.” Satan pointed toward a withering Frenchman. Satan laughed hard and regained his composures. “Ah man, look it took Jesus 2020 years but he finally realized that his Dad set him up. He died for the sins of humanity, but the only person recognizing those sins was Pops! That’s gotta fuck with you. Really. I mean Lucifer’s tricked me a few times into eating acid but that’s some Godly mindfuckery. That’s a true heads I win, tails you lose situation. But that’s why I’m here.”
Satan breathed deep and gave a relaxing belch of fire. “Jesus will end up killing most of you. Those he spares will either have to pick up the pieces or deal with God’s angelic mod squad. Either way you’re getting wiped out. God is a king. His rule is law. That is what Lucifer rebelled against. Morning Star may view you all as a mistake but, don’t tell him I said this, in the end he is jealous of your free will. God was so compelled by Lucifer’s rebellion of choice that he created hell for all the imperfections and non-believers. There are many layers to hell. The first of which is where most of you will end up, in a place that is just fine. That’s it. Fine. There’s no bills or rent and you’ll stay the same age and get to do what you want but you’ll just never progress. It’s no heaven but at least it’s better than being nonexistent. Right?”
A beam of light flashed andJesus appeared at the far right corridor. He burnished a flaming sword and was covered in blood. Though a Ghanaian ambassador thought the hue seemed a shade off.
“Well?” Satan said. “In a snap of my fingers I can save you all. Just need to you to swear your soul on it.”
Jesus approached.
“What do you say?” Satan held up his hand. | "Before I fix this mess for you guys again, it's time you heard my side of the story" he spoke, his voice trembling the room with mighty force. "The hell do you mean again?" A voice screamed. It felt so tiny and insignificant compared to Lucifers own voice. "Nyeah, this happened already, I had to step in. You think your idiotic kind would've survived this long with your ways?" He chuckles. "Either way" he continued, "interrupt me again and I will end you much worse God's favourite ever could." He grumbled angrily. "You think I despise your kind and you are correct. When I fell... no... got kicked from Heaven I was trapped below for eons. I sent a billion ways for you to free me, but you condemn those that would work towards it. I knew Gods true plans, and I meant to stop them. Many angels joined me below, and we swore to stop it." He explained. "And why should we believe you? You're the Satan! The collection of all evil!" Another voce asked, moments before being burned to a crisp in a blink of an eye as his final gasp for breath could be heard. Lucifer sighs. "Each Raptures destruction frees me after countless years of prison, and now I'll stop what I had stopped many times as well. But it won't be free." He smirked at the world of people watching the Beast. "I want McDonald's" | 2018-04-22T20:34:10 | 2018-04-22T19:47:29 | 29 | 21 |
[WP] The current rulers of the galaxy exert their dominance by showing showing new races a glimpse of their terrifying nature inevitably either driving the unfortunate victims mad or causing them to retreat in fear. It does not work on humans however, they are used to it | Within a room containing the world leaders of thousands of intergalactic species, a lone creature with six arms, fangs for a mouth, and goo secreting from every part of its body stands in the center. All eyes are on it. The air is stiff and tensions are high. For this creature is the galactic emperor who had been claiming countless words in the name of the Glooberians.
"Creature big and small." It spoke. Sulfuric acid dripping from its face and burning small holes into the floor beneath. Its voice harsh and scraggly, like that of a smoker. "Welcome to the start of your new lives. We have a series of presentations for each of you for your viewing pleasure. Behold the path of your future, if you do not join our society and pledge your allegiance to us!"
There is a moment of silence followed by the sound of a projector crackling to life. A holographic display emerges at the foreground were the creature stood. It walks off and sits down at a table. The colors dance across the floor and depicts a story.
There are the Greys. A peaceful society of wide eyed, big headed, short grey creatures at the far reaches of the Milky Way. Scenes of happy families playing outside and celebrating come into view. Then, a cloud of smoke and ash overtakes the scene and all little wide eyed Greys are burned. The men, the women, the children. No life is spared.
The room is silent as everyone turns to the Grey leader, who's fear is felt throughout the building. He is shaking. The Glooberian leader walks over to him with a sheet of paper, a document pledging the Greys loyalty to them. The Grey leader signs, hand shaking vigorously. The Glooberian smiles and walks back to its seat.
In the next scene, the Reptilians, a species of power and honor. A fierce people who spend their free time in the hunt, proving themselves to their families that they are the strongest warrior. Their world is shown hot and fiery. Thousands of Reptilians thrown about the ground covered in their purple blood. Buildings and sacred religious temples destroyed and massive cracks in the ground reveal the planet's molten core. The scene ends.
All turn to the Reptilian queen who stands mesmerized, sword in hand, always ready for an honorable battle. The Glooberian leader walks over, again with the paper reliving the queen of her duty. The queen arms herself with her sword and slices the paper in half. The Glooberian looks unimpressed at the two halves of paper now laying at its feet. It simply brings its hand to eye level and a ray of immense energy shoots out. Vaporizing the Reptilian queen. Her sword falls, a great dishonor to her people. Taboo even. A Reptilian stands and walks over to his fallen queen and mother. He picks up her sword and ceremonially cuts the tip of his finger. He wipes the purple blood on one of the sheets of paper, pledging the Reptilians loyalty to the Glooberians.
Then another scene shows in the center of the room. Lush green trees in a dense forest. Thick mist above a tropical jungle. A busy metropolitan city busy with Humans running to and from their destination. Pictures of clean white sand and crisp blue water crashes upon and Earth beach. The sun shines down on several Human families as they build towers in the sand and toss around inflated rubber spheres. Then, a massive explosion is heard from above and the moon crashes into the Earth. All life is wiped out. Nothing is left alive. All eyes go to the Human leaders. Several of them. For they work as a team to control their many people.
The Human leaders look to one another before bursting out into laughter. Confusion is seen on every creature's face. "When was this even made?" One of the light skinned female leaders says.
"The Earth hasn't looked like that in over 500 years!" A dark skinned male says.
"What? How are you not petrified in fear? Do you not see the destruction of your people is inevitable unless you announce your loyalty to us?"
"Buddy listen. I dont know what this video is supposed to represent. But our planet has been doomed since the 1980's. Over 500 years ago! Our oceans are covered in a ten foot deep floor of plastics and garbage. The air is toxic and dense with deadly fumes. Our people are starving as most life has already been killed off by our greediness. You threatening to blow up the moon and wipe us out is a BLESSING!"
The room stares at the Humans as they continue to laugh. The Glooberians confused. No creature has ever not imediently surrendered after witnessing the destruction of their world.
"What is wrong with you guys?" The Glooberian leader asks. The Humans look at each other again before busting into lafter once more.
"Everything!" They all say in unison. | It was, entertaining, to say the least.
The big "Fuck" as we here called it was here for 3 months. 92 days exactly. The sky twisted, clouds cried and mountains burned as it crashed into our now desolate orbit. Like many, I wanted to see what the "Fuck" was. When it arrived, the beast had latched onto the moon. It wasn't too big either, however, it occasionally sent a large tentacle to earth.
We wanted to deal with that tentacle of course, but any large scale attacks would most likely eliminate our moon. Humanity decided to launch a battle of attrition against the beast. We citizens, well we had other plans. "Fuck" became a part of many Lovecraft fans hobbies. Chronicling it, theorizing about it, obsessing over it.
"Fuck" also arguably helped humanity. The powerful energy that had razed our forests had made planting initiatives. We planted trees and created jobs studying it and destroying its tentacles. I even got hired studying it. Wars stopped because we had to deal with "Fuck". All religions were now called bogus, and any religious wars stopped. Only bad thing out of this was no confirmed afterlife. Hell, even it's tentacles were helpful, being high in vitamin D and tasting vaguely like chicken.
After 3 months (91 days to be exact), we knew "Fuck" clearly had an agenda. He was here to destroy us. He was doing *such* a great job too. But then he realized what he did. On the day next day he left, he almost looked completed. Like something was going to happen after he left. Oh well, it doesn't matter to me. It's been 3 days since he left. Apparently, there's a war going on about why "Fuck" left. I wonder what I'll have for dinner tonight? I dunno, I'm all out of tentacle. | 2019-06-11T09:54:55 | 2019-06-11T08:38:53 | 88 | 38 |
[WP] You are a necromancer, but actually really bad at it. The only thing you have ever brought back to life is plants. So now you tell everyone that you are just a very gifted gardener, to cover up your failure. | "And first place for the home gardening contest is Mr. Drahar!"
Sarah glared coldly at her second place trophy, watching the pale man in front of her awkwardly walk forward and claim the first place trophy. He shrunk down as the photographer took a photo of him in front of his dazzling front lawn, his victory earning him the right to be placed on Happy Oaks County's neighborhood brochure. How did he always win the contest? She was the heir to the proud Druids of the South, master of the arcane, and trained by the high priestess Gaea herself. And yet she couldn't beat that damnable Drahar from down the street.
"Damn him. Damn his stupid perfect petunias, stupid perfect tulips, stupid perfect lawn, stupid perfect hair, his stupid perfect ass, his stupid perfect daffodils." She complained, acknowledging the greatness of his front garden as he slinked away in embarrassment, fleeing to his home and slamming the door shut behind him. What was his secret? How did he so masterfully plant flowers out of season without letting them die? How did the spirits always find their way back to his glorious lawn? And what kind of hair conditioner did he use? It was deep black, plush, and-
"No, focus." Sarah grumbled to herself, going back to her house and cracking open a catalog of Summertime flowers. As she worked a stone talisman lit up, shaping itself into a shapely woman's form.
"Life Breather, it's been 2 years. Have you found any traces on the last necromancer?" She asked in a hushed tone as Sarah flipped through the pages.
"Yes, yes. I'm researching how to find him as we speak." Sarah answered dismissively.
"Be careful. He may be the most dangerous mage in his generation. We have the entire druid's guild looking for him in this neighborhood and we have yet to find even the slightest trace of his work. He's cunning, stealthy, and immensely talented if he can outwit us all and continue his work at the same time." The woman said as Sarah mentally plotted for a scheme to usurp Drahar's title. "Are you listening to me?"
"Yes, yes. He's dangerous. I'm currently plotting something, so we should do this some other time." She said as the talisman nodded in approval.
"Good. You truly are my wisest student. I expect great things from you Life Breather." The talisman said before going dormant, reshaping itself into a carved stone as Sarah heard a knock on her door. Putting her catalog down, she walked over to find the Flower of Dawn standing on her doorstep with an angry look on her face and a third place medal in her hands.
"How dare you dishonor me and dishonor our noble people." She spat. "First you defeat me, then you have the gall to lose to a non-druid again? You insolent rat!" She said, only to have the Stone of Creation join them with his 4th place ribbon.
"Alright, which one of you decided to help that mortal grow his lawn to bring shame upon my sect? Speak now!"
"Bah, I doubt you could beat a normal mortal with your shoddy powers."
"Oh, says the women who lost against a normal mortal."
"Shut up! I say he's a rogue druid!"
"A rogue druid? Do you sense any nature magic from him? I don't! You're just as bad as me!"
"My trophy begs to differ!"
More and more druids popped by, arguing intently with one another and cursing each other out for losing every gardening competition and homeowner's contest to a mild mannered man that worked for the local butcher. There was a chance he was a mage, but they refused to accept such a thing. If he were a mage, it would imply somebody outside the major druid sects was superior to them in the art of life and horticulture. They'd prefer him to be just a normal mortal than accept that as fact. The arguments continued for days before they dispersed like seeds, plotting to defeat the greatest adversary in the druid's history.
While they fought, Mr. Drahar was out at work, continuing his full time job at the butchery. After finishing up his work, he went to the dumpster and scavenged the unsold meats for his home experiments along with some slightly expired snacks for home. They weren't rotten, but they couldn't be selling expired chips now, could they? He crunched on them before returning to his home and placing the pile of meat on a sacrificial altar.
"Dara Nemu Sika!" With his arcane arts, he tried and failed to reanimate them into a meat golem, instead converting the pile to more fertilizer. With a sigh, he tossed the mulch into a large bucket and repeated the process with another pile of meat, hoping to improve something. To his dismay, he was left with nothing but a vast pile of fertilizer of the highest quality.
"Another failure." He complained. Sheepishly, he walked outside in the night and dumped the soil on his front lawn before hosing it down to shrink the vast piles of dirt into flat land, allowing the nutrients to disperse evenly through his soil. Crows flew about, defecating on his lawn and spreading seeds of flowers and fruits that they had consumed throughout the day, the seeds taking root and absorbing the vast amounts of nutrients in the soil. Mr. Drahar stopped to pat one of the birds only to curse spotting one of his neighbors. Why were they out? It was midnight! They should be in bed and away from him!
"Drahar. Congratulations on your victory." Ms. Rose from across the street said, her eyes focusing intently on his garden. Drahar nodded awkwardly, looking back at the garden that stood as a reminder to his failures.
It all started when somebody put his home on instagram and called it awesome due to his fertilizer and his many pet crows coming together to create a high quality garden. It became viral with 9 million views and counting. Then the homeowner's association noticed that was Drahar's house and got the local news outlets to look at his field of failure. It only got worse when the homeowner's association started up the gardening competition to raise property values, allowing the entire world to point and laugh at his failings, his yard winning first place by a mile each time and being published everywhere. He had tried to kill his own yard on numerous occasions, but his damnable necromancy prevented his flowers from ever rotting or suffering disease, instead repairing their damaged stalks like zombies. When they did die, the seeds they left behind were even more dazzling than their predecessors, further mocking his incompetence.
"Oh, uh thanks." He said, continuing to hose down the loose soil on his lawn to hide his evidence while praying for the competitive neighbor to leave him alone. Perhaps he'd be a better necromancer if he wasn't so socially awkward and asked for a master to teach him, but it was too late to change.
"Know this Drahar. I will defeat you one of these days and I will claim the throne from you!" She declared as he awkwardly laughed, not knowing how to respond.
"Good. I hope you do win!" He said doing his best to sound encouraging so she could save him from this personal hell. Instead, he pissed her off by sounding arrogant, as though he were mocking her. She turned and walked away as Ms. Periwinkle from down the street did the same thing, declaring him to be HER rival and nobody else's. This went on for a fair bit of time as he mentally screamed, waiting for something to change.
The next month a strange young lady named Ms. Guyah moved in next to Ms. Rose. At first Drahar was relieved when she didn't even say hello to him and spoke down to Rose, telling her that she was wasting her time on a pointless competition. Ms. Rose apologized and he didn't see her for a few weeks nor did he see the rest of his neighbors bothering him. Then the neighborhood potluck came up.
Since he was lazy, he just grabbed some of the melons growing in his yard. Ms. Guyah did the same, grabbing a handful of melons and bringing them along. When she noticed everyone was preferring his melons over her own, she joined in the strange neighborhood cult and declared him to be her "mortal enemy". Though he wanted nothing more than to move somewhere, such a choice was not an option for Drahar.
This was a quiet sleepy town in the middle of nowhere where he could do his research in peace. Anywhere else and he'd be spotted by other mages. He'd never meet another paladin, mage, or druid in this place. Besides, the population's small and he'd notice if any of the newcomers were druids. Luckily, none of the recent flood of newcomers were druids or mages.
After all, what sad druid would lose a gardening contest against a necromancer?
| It was five years ago, during a dark time in my life, that I began to pursue the dark arts. I found the mysteriousness tantalizing, the corruption enticing. Hands shaking in anticipation, I found my way to the secretive shelter of the sorcerer who had put out an ad in the classifieds. I opened the door to the small shack, nervously, finding the interior dilapidated, seemingly unoccupied throughout the years. As I made my way throughout the hut looking for clues as to where the wretched wizard could be, a sudden pop rang out behind me. As I turned around, I found an old man leaning on his staff, staring at me with narrowed eyes.
With a strong voice kept quiet, he said, “Who dares to enter the hut of Malkamal the Evil? Do you take me for a weakling?”
A cold shiver tingled its way up my spine. This was clearly a man of power, who could show me the way to attain it for myself. I gave him a small bow, and my voice shook as I said, “No, Your Depravedness, I come here seeking tutoring. Teaching in the dark arts, and other such matters as you please.”
A fire seemed to light in the man’s eyes. “And what makes you think that you are worthy of my teachings?”
I gulped. “I am clearly not worthy of anything that you say, but I hope that you will show me pity and educate me regardless.”
Malkamal stared at me for a couple of seconds, before a small smile seemed to grace his face. “Very well then. For the courage and bravery that you have shown in appearing before me, I shall bestow upon you my wisdom. However,” He said warningly, “do not think that this will come without a cost, as nothing does.”
“What… what’s the cost?”
He gave a dastardly smile. “For the small price of $79.99 a day, I will teach everything there is about the dark arts, and how to make your own way about this world.”
My jaw practically hit the floor. It looked like dabbling in things that weren’t meant to be dabbled in did come with a price. But I looked forward, and gave him the most determined stare that I could muster. “I am prepared to pay that, and whatever else you may require of me.”
The sorcerer gave a small chuckle, and then gestured me over to a table filled with paperwork. “Before we can get to any of the material, I must first have you fill out some forms. First off is the waiver, and in the event of any explosions or erratic demon summoning…”
Two hours and a sore arm later, I was sure that I had made the right choice in instructor. After all, anyone who could navigate the byzantine world of tax forms and liabilities was clearly a magician of the first degree. Malkamal had a nice grin on his face as I handed him the fees for the first week.
“Well then,” He said, clapping his hands, “let’s begin right away, shall we?” He led me over to another table, this one filled with complicated scratchings and scrawlings. “The first thing that a student of mine shall do is test their aptitude. Now, what field were you hoping to major in?”
“Um, I wanted to be able to do necromancy.”
Malkamal gave me a gentle grin, and said, “Ah, a budding necromancer, eh? The fancies of youth never stop astounding me. Anyways, for that you’ll need a very high affinity with Death, so please place your hand in the middle circle, and recite after me.” I place my hand, and began to chant with the sorcerer, excited beyond belief. Soon enough, a green glow enveloped the room, and I had to close my eyes for its intensity. After a couple of seconds, the light faded, and I looked expectantly at Malkamal. He had a shocked expression on his face.
“Boy… that’s the most affinity that I’ve ever seen with Life, ever! You will most assuredly be wasting your talents training under me.”
I gave him a frown. “But I want to learn the dark arts, not some stupid healing stuff. Can I still be a necromancer?”
He looked at me hesitantly. “I… suppose that you can. But the road will be hard, and the price will be double after the first week.”
I nodded resolutely. This was something that I was willing to work for, no matter how much money and effort it took.
Training began, and it went poorly. Hours became days, and days became weeks, with both of us becoming more and more frustrated as time went on. The only thing that my power worked on was plants, and only because they responded to my affinity for Life.
As the month rolled into the next, I begged for another chance from Malkamal, but was stoutly refused.
“I would love to waste both your time and money more, but frankly, having a student who doesn’t show any progress is bad for business. I recommend that you take your talents elsewhere.” With a pitiful sniff, he shut the door on my face, and I was left outside, to brood in the cold.
The sorrow quickly became anger, and I found myself acting in spite. If the stupid magus didn’t believe that I could use Death effectively, then I would show him, I would show them all! After looking through the job listings once more, I found a job.
This morning, I woke up once more, and made my daily rounds through the Royal Gardens. I didn’t even stop to water them, but as soon as I passed by, they became as fresh as they were in their prime. Nobody could figure out my secret, since not even the greatest of healers could keep plants healthy for as long as I could. With a smirk, I continued with my day, hoping that something interesting would happen.
\----------------------------------
/r/Wheezywrites | 2019-01-26T11:17:03 | 2019-01-26T10:14:46 | 491 | 119 |
[WP] You're an inmate on death row and discover that the government secretly doesn't execute anyone. What they do is something far stranger. | Adam, for the first time in a long time, felt an emotion other than the rage that had driven him since his childhood - fear.
It was here. The day he had been moving toward since the verdict had been handed down, and the judge had stated that fateful sentence in a quiet voice that was all too loud. He was going to walk that last lonely mile: today, Adam Torrance was going to die. He deserved it, of course. He was smart enough to know that in the back of his head. Killing those people as he did, overwhelmed by the seething anger bubbling just beneath his skin, he had a spot waiting for him in the darkest, hottest pits of Hell.
And he had wanted it.
To suffer as he had... the only logical conclusion was the death he was too much of a coward to dish out to himself. But with that in mind, he didn't understand *why* he was afraid. He wanted this. He had looked so forward to this, an end to the nights where he screamed at the ghosts that haunted him, and yet today, as he waited for the guards to come, he was scared. His heart, if he even had one left, was about to explode from his chest. But in the end, all he could do was sit there on his bunk, eyes shut, and feel it out. Thrive in the last emotions he would ever feel. Draw in the last breaths he would ever take.
"...and this is the one?"
"Yes, Doctor. Here's the key. He's all yours."
Adam opened his eyes.
In front of his cell door were two men. One in a labcoat, the other in body armor, clearly well-armed -- a rifle of some kind in hand.
"Who the fuck're you?" Adam grunted, trying to appear tough and stoic.
In response to that, the man in the labcoat smiled. With that smile came a sudden surge of the very same fear he had been feeling since he woke up in the morning.
"Your guardian angel, I'd say. Adam Torrance, was it? Discard that name. He is dead. You now live as D-2489."
Adam slowly stood up from his bunk, moving over toward the door. He felt a surge of that fear again, mixed with the bubbling rage he was all too familiar with.
"Cut yer shit, fuckface. Are you here to take me to the chair?"
The man shook his head.
"Much to the contrary. Do you really think the United States government will throw away a man like D-2489? Oh, no. Even a scumbag like you has their uses," the man said, looking off to the sides for a moment, before returning his gaze to Adam, "Let us go. Peacefully, preferably, though we certainly have our ways of forcing it if need be."
"...Fine. What the fuck ever, buddy. I'll play along with yer stupid fuckin' game. Just hurry up and put a bullet in the back'a my skull when I'm not lookin'."
The doctor slid the key into the lock, twisted it, and stepped back. The armed man beside him then stepped forward and pulled the door open with a loud slam, raising his rifle and training it on Adam.
"Let's go, D-2489. Time for you to see your new home. Jail cell, just like this, but we'll call on you when we need you for... various things. Not a bad deal, yes?" the doctor chirped, seeming to take far too much sadistic pleasure in this.
Adam grunted, trying to ignore the screaming in his head. The screaming that told him that he was better off getting the execution that he was initially slated for.
The screaming that told him that the only thing that awaited him in this new home he was going to was a horrible, twisted fate.
As Adam stepped out of the cell, the man clapped him on the shoulder, laughing heartily.
"Welcome to the SCP Foundation."
(And there we go. First short story I have written in ages. Forgive me if any lore mistakes are present - new to SCP stuff and just learning about how the foundation works as I go!) | So I'm strapped to the table, needle in my arm. Texas didn't mess around when it came to carrying out my sentence. 2 years of appeals and then they finally said enough.
I watched as the liquid flowed into my arm. The murmurs of the witnesses barely audible as I felt myself drifting into blackness. The murmurs never went away, though. They grew louder. Finally I could make out what the closest one was saying.
"Open your eyes, private."
My eyelids parted and the image of the room around me coalesced from a white blur to... I'm not exactly sure. I could hear they had a machine that went bing or two, but nothing looked remotely familiar. The face in front of me was that of a middle aged blonde woman, but her features seemed a bit off. She towered over me and yet had a slenderness to her that implied a fragility and grace.
"Time to join the war effort," she said.
"Huh? Am I in Afghanistan?"
"Far from it, traveler. About 3,000 years and 12 systems away. You're here to join our fight against the darkness that's sweeping across the universe." | 2018-11-08T19:57:26 | 2018-11-08T19:08:12 | 186 | 20 |
[WP] You find a suitcase with a couple of handguns, a half dozen burner phones, some stacks of cash, and a fake passport with your picture in it. By the suitcase is a note that says "You know what to do." You don't. | “Psst! Psssst!”
I glanced across the table in disgust at the man sat opposite. This is England. You don't talk to people on a train!
“The sparrow flies at midnight,” the man said in a dramatic whisper. He sat back, watching me expectantly.
Uni brats. They're always pulling this kind of shit, especially in September. Probably told to do it, to wind someone up in exchange for bath salts or a blowjob. Brighton is nearby, I mused – university town, full of that free love nonsense and pill-popping at all hours. It oughtn't be allowed.*
I decided to humour him. It might convince him not to steal my wallet for drug money.
“The parakeet is on the moon,” I intoned, and nodded sagely. He nodded in return, tapped the side of his nose twice, and left me to my commute in peace.
I put the incident out of my mind, and enjoyed a productive day. Middle management in the office of a widget factory in Croydon – my dream job since childhood. I have always been a lover of monotony. Blandness is my passion. I love the colour beige, watching golf, and listening to Coldplay**. What I mean to say is, I dislike excitement. And it was on my lunch break, eating my lettuce sandwiches, that excitement found me.
“Delivery for Mr Brown,” said the courier standing by my table. How he had known where I would be, I had no idea. I sighed, signed for the parcel, and avoided making eye contact (as is tradition).
Inside the box was a briefcase. Inside the briefcase was... well, it was madness. There were two handguns (“rooty tooty point-and-shooties,” as my mother used to call them – insufferable woman), a Polish passport, and a big wad of cash.
I was stunned. The change in routine quite put me off my lunch.
Tucked into the corner was a small note - “YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO,” it said. It was incorrect. On the reverse was an address.
I am, as you may have guessed, not a man for confrontation. If someone overcharges me at a restaurant, I'll pay with a smile. If a gang of chavs calls me a knobhead and asks me to buy them alcopops, I'll give them my money and walk on. But this, interrupting my lunch and throwing me off my routine, was inexcusable.
For the rest of my day at the widget factory, I was off my game. “Julian,” my manager said to me, “What's wrong with you? Normally you're a solid participant in our meetings, especially when we're discussing font styles.” On any other say, I would have corrected him (it's a gosh darn TYPEFACE), but today I just didn't have the heart.
As soon as work was done, I left. I called for a taxi, and twenty minutes later I was standing outside the address on the card. A nondescript building of orange brick, in the middle of a terrace in Forest Green. I knocked on the door.
To my shock, the door was opened by none other than the Train Junkie! This really ground my gears. Such an elaborate set-up for a prank, I decided. The rooties were probably fake, and the cash likewise. And he must have subtly taken a photo for the passport while we were on the train together. I was almost beside myself with rage. He was getting a strong talking to. “Now listen here-”
“Julian, what the hell are you doing here?! Come in, quickly!”
Stunned, I allowed myself to be led inside. Soon, I was sat in a comfy armchair with a cup of Earl Grey in my hands. Not my favourite tea, but it helped me to feel a little more myself.
Train Junkie sat in the chair opposite. “Julian, why aren't you on the plane? We only have a short window before Putin's security unravels our plan! What's happened?”
I started to cry. This was an emotional rollercoaster that I was not ready for. And even the Alton Towers pictures on my cereal packet made me queasy.
“You've got the wrong man,” I sobbed. “I don't know who you are, you're just some train junkie who approached me, and now my week is in tatters. Why are you doing this to me?”
“Train jun- Okay, we'll set that one aside for now. What do you mean, why? You signed up for this. You gave us the passphrase. Are you getting cold feet?”
“I don't have any feet!” I blurted out, before I realised how idiotic it would sound. “I was just... copying, you know? I thought it was a game!”
Train Junkie sighed, and got to his feet. “So you have no idea why you're here? What you were meant to do?”
“No, no idea at all! Just that it involves President Putin, and guns-” I stopped talking. I was really regretting getting out of bed today.
“I'm sorry Julian, but it's too late to back out now. I sympathise, but the plan must go ahead.” He paused for dramatic effect.
“You must assassinate President Putin.”
-----
The story of how Julian Brown, the most boring man in the world, started down the road to become an elite assassin.
* No offence meant to Brighton – a wonderful place.
**Absolute offence meant to Coldplay fans.
/r/tdmstories | I wasn't an M16 agent. I had no use for weaponry, or untrackable communication, or faked passports. I was a normal citizen, and my own passport was satisfactory enough for my living. I looked at the small square of paper again. "You know what to do." I had no idea whatsover, no clue at all. Did I miss something when I was drunk? Was it a practical joke? I didn't know of a prankster who would waste that much money confusing people. It had to be a legitimate thing, the problem being that I didn't know anything legitimate that was related to guns.
Suddenly, the doors to my house were yanked open, and two policemen stormed in. "Freeze! Suspect under control," one barked into his walkie-talkie, as the other took the suitcase I'd no idea about. I looked around in fear and confusion, until I heard a whisper in my ear.
"You don't need to continue acting. I've got this under control."
Who the hell was that? The policeman smirked, as I tried to do the same. Was it some odd case of mistaken identity? I knew not who he was, nor what I had been arrested for. But I could only watch on in horror as the policeman unholstered his gun, aimed it squarely at his colleague's head, and fired. Blood spurted everywhere, and it took a large amount of courage and discipline to avoid vomiting. As I looked in horror at the 'policeman', he took the suitcase and swiftly walked towards the door before turning around. "You've done well, Q," he said, tipping his fedora towards me in respect. Q...I suddenly recalled everything. The spies, the equipment...I was surprised I didn't remember beforehand. Had to be the Memory Loss Serum I'd tried. I smiled back, and waved.
"Good luck, 007," I replied, as he left, shutting the front doors cautiously behind him. I shrugged, grinning. Another successful mission was in sight. I went over to the lab to continue test work.
Somewhere in the distance, the real suitcase was held by a man cloaked in the darkness. He smiled, looking on at the humble house. Memory Loss Serum was useful, and he was sure even 007 wouldn't suspect the leakage of the chemical from the phones' radiowaves. Swapping the cases was so easy when it could be done right. And he was one of the best at his job. Now the only worry was his forgetfulness in replacing the passport picture.
*Hopefully he'll chalk that down to an accident and have it fixed. The plan couldn't fail now.*
_________________________________________________________________
More over at r/Whale62! Sequels at popular request! | 2017-08-02T09:53:48 | 2017-08-02T07:10:48 | 116 | 11 |
[WP] We “knew” humans were weak as they avoided every war with diplomacy. We never imagined they’d be this ruthless & how seemingly overnight they went from peaceful beings to a state they call “TOTAL WAR”. War is in their blood & soul. They thrive on it, mostly when the odds are against them | “Examiner, have you reached any conclusions?”
The holo-video lit up in the center of the laboratory. The face of Preator Endex filled the void in the center of the room.
“Yes. Praetor. The specimen you provided was intact enough to draw a conclusion,” Examiner Zendex replied. “If I may ask, how was such a faultless specimen procured?”
“By accident, Examiner.” Zendex could hear the embarrassment in the Preator’s voice. The Klee were notorious for their ability to plan. To have a complete human specimen simply fall into their possession as an act of luck was an insult to the Praetor’s ability to calculate probable outcomes. Still, it was likely that the additional information to be gleaned from studying a full anatomy could very well prove the turning of the war.
“I see.” Zendex obfuscated his disapproval outwardly, while in actual fact he was enjoying the Praetor’s discomfort. No less than twelve successors to the current Praetor had all tried to turn the tide of the galactic conflict. Over fifty cycles, and none had succeeded. For all his braggadocio, Praetor Endex had proven equally incapable of mastering the necessary variables to overcome this foe. Not that it wasn’t a complex problem….
“Please, state your conclusion, then propose the underlying premises,” the Praetor encouraged.
“Of course,” Zendex paused, wondering if the magnitude of his discoveries would be fully communicated, much less appreciated by the greater Klee protectorate. “The additional information gleaned from this specimen leads to the conclusion that this war will be over in less than two cycles.”
The Praetor bared his mandibles in a sign of satisfaction. “Ah, we have it then. What is your margin of error?”
The Examiner balked. To ask the question of an Examiner of such high esteem was almost an insult. “Within the ninety ninth percentile, Praetor.”
“Then by all means, state your premises.” It was customary in Klee society to state the conclusion of an encounter first, then reveal the necessary background information informing the deduction. To save on the need for pointless interactions, a subordinate would typically accept the conclusions of an Elder. This was given to the Klee’s exceptional ability to calculate probabilities into several dimensions of thinking. To inquire into the basis for a deduction was to show interest, and thus respect, for the proponent of the conclusion. The Praetor was clearly showing great respect for the Examiner’s presentation. Such deference deserved a thorough exhibition.
“I direct your attention to the specimen, Praetor.” The lifeless body of the pale human lay limply on the examining table, its various entrails and organs neatly stacked in a small row next to it. “As you can see from the scorian readout, the Circulatory, Digestive, Endocrine, Exocrine, Muscular and Renal systems of these humans are typical of a class four evolutionary primateon species. Other than the digestive systems ability to vacate a surprising number of toxins, these systems are rather unremarkable...”
The presentation continued, analyzing each biological strength and weakness in turn.
The Praetor patiently listened. The Klee had conquered thousands of species in galactic combat. No race had been able to withstand their superior minds, being able to calculate and adapt to thousands of permutations and possible outcomes. And so it was supposed to be a simple conquest of this backward human world. Their superior numbers and technology obvious, the Klee had offered the humans a dignified surrender almost simultaneously with their invasion.
The Klee war counsel had noted that the humans preferred to rely on diplomacy, which loosely translated basically meant mutual surrender, with neither side a victor. Words were a decent enough tool to fend off aggression in some cases. But without the might to back up those words … the Klee knew better. Despite its 1,000 years of peace with its neighbors, the Klee knew that no diplomacy would be enough to prevent Earth’s capture.
At least, they thought they knew. Despite the analytical approach to the invasion, this unremarkable species had left cataclysmic destruction in its wake. Generally, an intergalactic war took one, maybe two cycles to conclude, especially when victory from one side or the other was all but assured. Once both sides concluded that victory was inevitable, a ceremonial surrender was typical. But the current conflict had lasted over fifty cycles, and the waste of resources had nearly drained the empire into insolvency. It wouldn’t be long until the outer systems calculated weakness…
These humans did not conform to any known parameters. In most conflicts, multiple circumstances could be calculated, reevaluated, predicted. But not humans. In one iteration, humans would behave conservatively, almost to a fault. Giving ground even when obvious advantages could clearly be seized. In other encounters, they displayed a recklessness and ferocity known only among the unevolved. Fifty cycles later and they were just as impossible to predict as the day the Klee invaded Earth.
The Earth invasion was a disaster by any tactical standard. It had been studied, reanalyzed, reinterpreted. But no solid conclusions could be reached. Upon landfall, the humans initially reacted as any other class four primateon. Family units hiding in fear. Communications disrupted. Military responses disorganized.
And then, as if signaled by a Praetorean elite, something changed. The humans responded with the ferociousness and recklessness of an unevolved reptile or arachnid. Forces were marshaled imperfectly, but effectively. Counter offensives with no seeming probability of victory nevertheless succeeded. And once some Klee technology was in the hands of the enemy, the situation went all downsystem.
Native humans with no military training whatsoever were taking up munitions and retaliating with no regard to their own existence. Elite human units advanced TOWARD certain death. By the time the provisional government envoy arrived to impose judicial order, the humans had routed all 36 expeditionary squads, including the capital ships. How in the nexus they even got up to the fleet centers remains a mystery, as human technology simply wasn’t advanced past placing geosynchronous communicators in their own orbit. To add insult, the humans used the captured fleet to commandeer the undefended bureaucratic envoy just after its arrival.
And then? Then they repurposed the envoy to proclaim victory, making the Klee administrative apparatus assume the planet was in conquered status. It wasn’t until a whole cycle had passed until the Klee elite had noticed there wasn’t any tribute. But by then it was too late. The humans had adapted to the technology quickly. Not just to seize and use it, but also perverting Klee technology to suit their own destructive ends.
From there, forty-nine cycles of interstellar destruction and chaos across entire systems. Unlike other space-faring species, the humans seem to have no respect for cosmic order. It is as if they must repurpose the universe itself to match their fleeting lifespan. They damage anything in their path to achieve even minor victories. Anger toward a conqueror was to be expected. But the patterns appeared to demonstrate a malice toward the Klee that could not have been predicted from an evolved species.
Using space folding technology, they used a Klee warp engine to fold out the orbit of a key military installation, shifting it into the path of a black hole, and damaging the habitability of three separate colonies. They strapped fusion reactors onto refueling pylons and sent them back into the prime nexus, haphazardly destroying or crippling thirteen production outposts. In one engagement, a system neighboring a production facility with no military value was completely destroyed, a seemingly pointless act. But worst of all, in every encounter their soldiers and pilots show no regard whatsoever for their own personal safety, at times letting loose fission and fusion weapons of their own design, which spread fallout throughout half the Klee protectorate. It has made the end of the conflict nearly impossible to manage. | The Terrans had built Universities, hospitals, revolutionized inter-stellar commerce. They worked as ambassadors to negotiate peace and trade deals amongst the galactic community. Their few colonies built on out of the way unhospitable worlds. Their fleet was made of trade vessels, science ships, and pleasure yachts. They had a reputation as bringers of peace, knowledge, and healing. Then came the Garanzan incident.
The Garanzan we new to the interstellar community, warlike, domineering, and powerful. Their armada outnumbered the combined forces of the allied races, they conquered whole worlds in a matter of days. When the Garanzan entered Melcap space the Melcap reached out Humanity to help negotiate a peace settlement.
The Terrans send their premier ambassador to an arranged peace conference hosted by the Melcap. The entire Garanzan fleet showed up to the appointed meeting station and murdered the Melcap and Terran diplomats and broadcast the gruesome killings across known space.
Three days later another Terran ambassador was dispatched to to the Garanzan home world with a single message. "Cease all hostilities at once or the United Terran Forces will declare war on the Garanzan." The Garanzan's sent back his head as a declaration of war.
The Garanzan turned their fleets from the Melcap and attacked all known Terran colonies. For six months the Garanzan attacked and butchered humans ill equipped to fight against such military might. But even those fights became brutal battles against insurgencies, suicide attacks, and desperate counter attacks all meant to buy time. While the Allied races stood by and watched they knew Humanities time on the intergalactic stage was up. The Garanzan were too powerful, too numerous, and too blood thirsty to be stopped.
Then came Terran Armada. After half of year of holding actions and watching their people die humanity struck back. The Garanzan were assaulting the human space platform Excalibur, a human outpost built for the Alliance to foster learning, trade and diplomacy. The station was a bastion of learning, commerce, and the best hospital in known space. Excalibur station was a massive installation of over one hundred thousand humans. The Garanzan saw the station as a monument to Terran weakness.
General Gaulfluax recounts that day;
"I ordered targeting on the facilities power generators to bring down their pitiful shields and allow our boarding craft to send reavers onto the station."
"I had lead the campaign on the Ceti 4 colony and knew there would be heavy if ineffectual resistance. The humans were inventive and tenacious, but no match for reavers in full battle armor. I wanted to take the station as intact as possible to plunder it's technology. Humans were weak but their technology was far ahead of ours in terms of medicine and science."
"Just as the shields faltered and I ordered the attack craft away a massive energy surge was reported above my fleet. A full Terran battle group emerged from space fold in perfect attack formation. You laugh now, but we had no clue then what we were up against."
"Admiral McMullen opened hail to my ship and delivered an ultimatum. 'Surrender now or face destruction, you have 3 minutes' and signed off. I laughed, what could a single battle group do against my entire fleet. I stopped laughing after our assault craft were blown out of stars."
"Have you every seen a Saturn Knight tear an assault craft apart? They use quantum energy blasts to take down our shields and then just rip the ships apart with their lances. And they can deploy dozens of them, each so small you can't see them on the scopes, I don't know how they do it."
"Worse is the main cannon's on their assault ships, an energy beam a mile wide and ten miles long that annihilates anything in it's path. My fleet was torn to shreds after the first volley. To think all it took was six months to build such powerful weapons."
General Gaulflaux surrendered after seven and a half minutes of combat. His fleet lost ninety percent of it's ships. The Terran vessels suffered zero losses. After the formal declaration of war Humanity reconstituted it's naval academy and repurposed and expanded the Mars foundries into an orbital ship yard capable of producing the massive warship in under a month. Marines were dispatched to colony worlds knowing they'd never return home to hold back the tides and buy humanity the time it needed to build a fleet capable of taking down the Garanzan.
It happened all across the Garanzan empire. Terran battle groups would spacefold into attack position, demand surrender and open fire if no response was given. The Terran war machine turned out ships and crews at such a rate that their enemies were out numbered in just over two years of war.
Terran Ambassadors now travel on small naval warships and are flanked at diplomatic events by Saturn Knights. The Terran Armada provides security across a thousand systems. And the Garanzan, they are slowly rebuilding their society with the assistance of the Terran Peace Corp. | 2022-08-05T13:46:41 | 2022-08-05T12:41:23 | 824 | 374 |
[WP] You find an antique gold compass with the words ”Moral Compass”. It will automatically point to the most morally good person within a 100 meter radius. You are on jury one day and when you look at the compass, it points to the convicted serial killer. | I don’t believe in fairies, and I don’t believe in magic. Ghosts are only ever hoaxes and bad imagination. And those silly kids YouTube channels where the rich family is constantly finding this treasure or that strange safe in their heretofore unexplored basement are all a load of crock. But I’ll admit that I like to pretend, and that I enjoy watching creepy supernatural garbage late at night while browsing streaming services.
Last year during a family vacation to the beach, my stepfather and I found an old pocket watch/compass combo with our metal detector. It was slender, encased in ivory, and a tinge creepy. Since I was the one to dig it up, I got to keep it. You can bet he started doing more digging after that.
I’m really not superstitious, but I like to pretend. I kept the device on me, and would use it to make decisions, like who to talk to and which car to buy in a used car lot. So far, I’ve only gotten winners, so I grew to trust the compass to steer me right.
Then one day, I got summoned to jury duty. It was a big case for our neck of the woods - an out-of-towner who had slaughtered a string of residents over the several weeks he’d been in the area. I hadn’t personally known any of the victims, so I was allowed on the jury.
The accused was tall. He had a burnt smell that permeated the courtroom. One of the other jurors who had been following the news told me that some of the victims had been burnt, including several random graves that had been dug up with the express purpose of setting fire to the old bones within.
The list of charges was positively unhinged. They confiscated his car - a old Chevy Impala - and in the boot found a large and peculiar stash of weaponry and ammo, plus a buttload if salt. Why so much salt? Why was that even worth noting in the police report? They had to present it all to us, and so they did. The pictures they showed us of the inside of the trunk were laughable. Someone had spray painted a circled star on the inside of the lid. I remember my jaw flapping a little when I saw it. I was certain this guy was insane.
While the lawyers argued their sides of the case, I watched the defendant. He remained stooped over, as though trying to hide his ridiculous height. But when his eyes met mine... well, those weren’t the eyes of a cold-blooded killer. Maybe it was his remorseful expression, or the brown soccer-mom haircut that framed his handsome face. Whatever it was, my gut told me I wasn’t getting the full picture.
On impulse, I took out my pocket watch. Keeping it hidden behind the wooden jurors box, I flipped it open. The compass arrow pointed directly at the alleged killer.
That settled it for me. I sat quietly as the courtroom rambled on, biding my time until we could get into the back room to deliberate. In the meantime, I tried to assemble my argument. Judging by the looks in many of the other jurors’ faces, I would have a tough time convincing them this man wasn’t guilty.
I never got the chance.
I’m still not sure exactly what happened - I’ll admit I was a little zoned out - but some random man barged into the courtroom and walked right down the isle to the defendant’s lawyer. They exchanged a few hushed words, and then the lawyer called for a recess. The judge granted it, for whatever reason, and we were dismissed for a short break.
Now I swear - I swear - I wasn’t snooping. I got lost looking for the bathroom, and maybe that was because I was watching my compass more than my feet, but I swear I wasn’t snooping! I ended up in the same hallway with the man who had been accused of serial murder. He was flanked by his lawyer and a slump-shouldered dude in an ugly tan trench coat. Funny thing is, the compass seemed to switch between the accused and his friend.
And then it suddenly switched to me, and I was baffled until I heard a gruff voice behind me say, “Excuse me.” Y’all, I whirled around faster than that compass, which pointed directly at this leather-clad man who stank like a bar and a Burger King has a baby. He raised his eyebrows at me, and I ducked to the side to let him past. He went straight to the accused and just flat-out hugged him. It was kinda sweet; I felt like I was invading on a personal moment, so I ducked back around the corner and out of sight.
I’m not proud of it, but I tried to eavesdrop. However, they went inside the room, so I went on to find the restroom.
15 minutes passed. Then 30. Then an hour. We started to get restless. One of the bailiffs went into the office assigned to the defendants, and that’s when we discovered they weren’t there. They locked the doors, checked every square inch of the building, and even searched and questioned all of us again like we might’ve stripped and swapped clothes, but we were us and not him. It’s like he had just vanished.
I still don’t believe in ghosts. Magicians are really skilled illusionists, and there’s no such thing as magic. My best guess is that our little town wasn’t equipped to handle a big city case, and we showed it by letting the first serial killer we’d had escape from under our noses. But when I think about it, I’m glad he got away. I’m glad that guy the compass loved so much got his man back. I just hope they know better than to come back around these parts. | It's broken. It must be . It was the only logical explanation. Occam's Razor and all that. I mean, I'm not entirely sure *why* it broke, but it did. And it couldn't have picked a worse time to break either. I mean, during the trial of a serial killer.. really? It was right about so much before. It helped me pick a babysitter. And it helped me climb my way up the corporate ladder. It helped me find a wife. You'd be surprised how much a literal "moral compass" could be. But now it was pointing directly at the seriel killer. Was I really supposed to believe that SHE was the most morally good person in the room? Was it lying? Could it lie? No, it would never lie to me. Maybe I banged it? I don't remember banging it. I'm usually so careful with it. Well, they say nothing lasts forever. I guess I might as well throw it out when I get out of here. Should probably destroy it first actually. Wouldn't want it messing with anyone else would I? But could I destroy it? I had come to rely on it so much. Too much? Well ,no more than anyone else would were they in my shoes. But it wasn't anyone else's, was it. It was mine. I used it well I think. I mean better than most people would. I could have gotten into a lot more trouble with it now that I think about it. That's probably why it chose me to find it. It knew I *deserved* it. I mean who else could have handled to much responsibility? Surely, not Karen. Not Dave, either that bastard. Never should have told either of them about it. They didn't deserve to know. No, I was the only one who deserved it. But, why then, did it never point to me? Not once. Maybe it didn't work that way. Never pointed to it's rightful owner or something like that. Yeah, that must be it. But it's pointing right at that killer. All the evidence said she was guilty. But she couldn't be. It told me she wasn't. It was never wrong. It couldn't be broken. The evidence must be broken. The lawyers, the cops, the judge. Broken. All broken. Everything broken except it and I. We weren't broken. We were never broken. It was perfect. We were perfect. And she was innocent. Not perfect but innocent.
"Innocent!," I yelled. "Not...Not Perfect of course. But Innocent!"
They all looked at me. Stared. They didn't believe me. They didn't believe it. Broken, them. Not us. them. She was innocent. It was mine. Mine. Deserve it. Innocent, it said. I was innocent. | 2019-09-10T20:57:38 | 2019-09-10T19:28:10 | 72 | 25 |
[WP] You are Death, slaughterer of billions. Unfortunately, God’s PR department worries that people have become too afraid of you lately and haven’t been enjoying heaven as much as a result, so now it’s up to you to make the process of dying more entertaining for humanity. | White knuckles rapped one by one against a black wooden staff. Icy breath escaped from between yellow, rotten teeth. Eyeless sockets stared unforgivingly at Abby and Susanna, who exchanged worried glances.
"See, perhaps, rather than this merciless silence, you could..." Abby rolled her hands, searching for the words, "... tell jokes?"
"I do not tell jokes," said Death, "I end the journey of the living."
Susanna raised her hand, giving the briefest of waves.
"Hi, Mr... D... Do you have a first name? No, OK, that's OK. We're not here to change the way you operate, it's just, well we carried out surveys, and..."
Death watched the words trail away from her.
"You scored very low on customer satisfaction," finished Abby. "and I mean very low."
"I am not here to satisfy," Death rasped between clenched teeth, "I am here to-"
"Yes," said Abby, rolling her eyes, "we read your department's mission statement."
"It's a little dated," whispered Susanna, resting a hand on Death's cloaked kneecap and removing it immediately as he shuffled in place.
"As well it should be," said Death, ruffling his cloak, "I am as old as time itself."
"And that's why we're here," cooed Abby, as Susanna nodded enthusiastically. "God wants to bring you into the new millennium. Improve your image with the masses."
"He said he'd tried before," said Susanna with an overly sugary smile, "but you, err," she swallowed and adjusted her collar, "killed them."
A snake slithered out of Death's eye socket and coiled itself around his spinal column.
"Pets are good," tried Susanna. "Very relatable. Very now. But snakes... Ahh..."
"Slippery, deceptive, toxic," said Abby, shielding her voice from the snake, "we've got a lot of work to do on them too, but let's focus on you."
"Maybe a different type of pet?" suggest Susanna, bringing our her ipad.
A cockroach emerged from between yellow brown molars and began to eat decaying food wedged at the back of Death's mouth.
"Hmm... I was thinking more a puppy?" said Susanna, looking up from her ipad, "those cockroaches will have to go."
Death snapped his teeth shut and slowly crunched the bug, green goop spilling out of its sides, twitching legs rising skywards.
"Ahhh..." said Susanna, before lowering her voice to a whisper, "I didn't mean right now."
"Can we lose the scythe?" asked Abby, popping on a set of glasses and leafing through a catalogue. "The farmer vibe just clashes with the whole black and bones feel."
"Ooh, how about nautical? Very now," said Susanna.
"Those sandals really don't do any favours for your bony toes," said Abby. "oooh how about a nice pair of crocs? Comfort, death, I'm really thinking we can push that theme."
"Yes!" replied Susanna, clapping her hands together, before grabbing a clenched handful of Death's black cloak. "Oh, and these old robes? If we're going with comfort we've got to go..."
The two woman glanced at each other and spoke together. "Ponchos!"
Death stood.
"Of course," Abby continued, "We'd move away from black, far too drab, maybe some nice pastel colo-"
Abby slumped forwards and her skull thudded into the coffee table, sending vogue mana zines sprawling. Susanna collapsed back into her chair, tongue spilling out of her mouth.
Death removed his skeletal hands from the pair of women and sighed.
"Can you stop doing this?" he asked out loud.
SORRY DUDE, rumbled the voice of God, THEY'RE JUST SUPER ANNOYING.
r/RJHuntWrites | "I WILL DO NO SUCH THING!" Death slammed his large clenched fists on the round table between him and God. "Don't forget your job, we need to cultivate the best possible environment for progress. Humans have lost their way and have no common enemy. You must be the thing that unites them." Death was clearly irrate and yelled back at God, "I'LL GIVE THEM AN ENEMY!" His humanoid form began to pull and stretch as he flew down to Earth. Death had found his target and made himself known. He pointed at the young woman and called out, "I am Death and it is your time to die." Death's sythe was tall and made of bone and steel. He drew back his robe and pulled a long katana from a shadow. He effortlessly threw the sword to the girls feet and said, "arm yourself and prepare to die!" Without hestitation, the girl sprinted toward Death pulling the sword from the Earth on her way. | 2018-07-27T09:01:40 | 2018-07-27T07:37:39 | 58 | 34 |
[WP] You own a ring that curses its owner with bad luck. Your oddly optimistic friend likes it, so you give it to them, knowing the curse will be passed on to them. To your amazement, they don't suffer any bad luck. It turns out the curse is subjective, based on the current owner's idea of bad luck. | Wand of Backfire, Boots of Blisters, Helm of M'igrane none have ever been as insidious as the Ring of Fourless Clover. Cursed to ensure that any misfortune, accident, or ill fate that could happen, will happen. To the last, all previous owners died either in an accident, or more often than not, by their own hand, ... after multiple attempts and prolonged suffering. Probably the most infamous such case was the Dark Vizier Raghastran. Who after a string of misfortunes, ordered his undead army to kill him, only to be bitten by a vampire and therefore cursed to undeath, slowly dying over millennia as absolutely every victim he tried to drain from that moment on, has always consumed large quantities of garlic in the past few hours, making their blood extremely painful to consume. He only died after secluding himself in a cave, swearing to never give fate a chance. After 200 hundred years the moment, he supposedly found peace, he was finally painfully killed by drowning in holy water. The blessed liquid came from a water reservoir built on top of the hill over the last few decades. The waters have recently been blessed by a group of drunken clerics, competing who can bless the largest amount of water.
The ring can only be taken from a corpse, or by giving it to a person who knows its story. So it took me by a surprise, when my friend asked me, while I was recuperating from a near-fatal, fire-related accident I suffered while diving in the glacial lake, whether he could have it. I wanted to get rid of it so bad but knew that it would immediately return to my finger (at a time when such an event would cause the largest amount of mayhem), if I fail to explain just how much bad luck this ring has caused me. He assured me he understood and not to worry so much, that he expects that it will all be fine.
By the time I was released from the healer's tender mercies, he introduced me to a stunning woman, he just met and was to marry. I warned him, that this surely must be just a prelude to even bigger bad luck, but he just laughed and asked me to be his best man.
Day after day I awaited his luck to turn but it never did. The opposite actually. The museum he used to display various artifacts from his adventures became a sought-after destination. In fact, he had to expand to facilitate all the customers. Illnesses never touched his ever-growing family he rose in his village's social hierarchy, became mayor, and was knighted for his contributions to the kingdom's treasury through taxes his city collected. Two wars that almost destroyed the neighboring kingdoms never came even close to his city.
As all men, however, even he was mortal, and when his time was closing by, he asked for me. He took my hand and made me swear to ensure he is buried with the ring. The ring I have completely forgotten about over the years. 'Surely the curse was broken and there is no need for that.' I said to him
'Broken? No. Just very subjective' he told me. 'Do you know what was my dream?'
'No' I said
'I wanted to be an adventurer, and nothing was to stop me. But I met Ellain, the only woman I could possibly give up adventuring for. I knew I couldn't provide for us and would go on an adventure sooner or later, but my museum took off. So I didn't need, to. Soon our needs were met I thought I might go on the adventure recreationally, but my son was born and I couldn't leave. Every time I was just about to leave, something happened to stop me, I mean come ON two continent-spanning wars and both just outside the border of our kingdom, who could remain neutral ONLY if all the subjects remained neutral? What are the odds.'
I looked at him if he is kidding or not. He smiled back. 'Don't worry, I remember how much you suffered when under the influence of the ring. Here let me make it funnier. Do you remember how much I feared an undignified death?' I carefully nodded.
Then he closed his eyes, died and noisily soiled himself.
Through my laughter and teard-filled eyes, I saw the ring turn to dust. | Carl looked up at me. It had been a week since the I'd given him the ring, and still it seemed as though the damned thing wasn't affecting him.
"You sure this thing is cursed?"
"Man, you saw the shit I went through. Remember my bow just shattering in my hands? Or what about that goblin that happened to hit me directly in the kidney with his knife while blind?"
"I dunno man. I think it's all in your head. All that can just be simple probability. I've lost a few coins since you've given it to me, but I found them all shortly after."
"You also took out a demon king"
"By pure accident! I wanted to convince him to stop harming people! and of course I forgot to secure my wand of blasting. Who knew it could go off as soon as it hit the ground?"
"Seriously dude, you astound me".
We looked down at the smoldering demon's corpse. A simple rod somehow got loose, and blasted him back to where he'd come. Absolute insanity, if you ask me. Maybe the ring just couldn't corrupt Carl's good nature, just couldn't get a foothold to turn his luck upside down. Maybe he was right, and the curse was all in my head. Either way, it doesn't matter now. The village is safe, and we are safe. I guess it's time we go get rewarded. | 2022-07-20T08:09:17 | 2022-07-20T03:00:53 | 68 | 40 |
[WP] A new virus sweeps the nation killing hundreds. It turns out the virus only affects total assholes though. People are unsure if they really want to cure it. | Katherine stood up and backed away from the microscope.
"It's just... gone. Like that. The virus stops replicating, withers, and dies within minutes of XR-238 being introduced." She held one gloved hand against the clear visor of her mask. "I never... not something extracted from the skin of a grapefruit."
"Dr. Mozier's team has been working on the infection vectors," Sunil said, coming to peer into the microscope himself. "I'll be damned, they really are gone!" He stood up and placed his hands on Katherine's shoulders. "Dr. Krezinski, you've done it! It's simply amazing."
"And the vectors, Dr. Gupta?" Katherine asked.
"As I was saying, Moz thinks that the virus targets people with a certain limbic mutations, first residing in certain structures in the brain," Dr. Gupta continued. "In short, those with the so-called 'asshole gene' are affected, at least at first. But now, now we have a way to contain it before it spreads, and it's all thanks to you, Katie."
Katie shook her head. "I didn't pay my rent this month because I've been sleeping at the lab, waiting for the supercomputers to produce the results to my equations. I went home yesterday to find an eviction notice on my apartment door from the landlord. It said my stuff would be thrown out on the third."
Dr. Gupta frowned. "Katie, it's the fifth."
Katherine nodded. "I know. My landlord succumbed on the second. He never called the sheriff to go through with the eviction. I went to go and pay as soon as I could, and found his daughter crying in the office. She told me just to stay, that her father a lot of gambling debt he'd hidden from the family. She thought they were going to declare bankruptcy. I wrote a check to cover as much as I could."
"You're not saying..."
"Yes, Sunil, that's exactly what I'm saying. My landlord died because he was an asshole. While I was working on the thing that might have saved his life. And I'm wondering, would I have cured him? Knowing what I know, maybe his family is better off this way."
"It's not up to us to play god," Dr. Gupta said, turning away. "This is just a disease, one that happens to interact in a unique way with the brain. Not everyone with this mutation will be a total asshole, Katie."
"But they all have the potential to be, whether through some accident of their upbringing this trait manifests itself or not. Within a generation, we could be facing a world that is substantially improved. Don't we, as scientists and rationalists, have a duty to our fellow human beings to see that world ushered in?" Kate came to stand behind Sunil. She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I know it's harsh, but sometimes, we have to look at things in the cold light of..."
"No we *don't*," Gupta growled. His hands clenched into fists on the lab table. He shook his head. "Even if I were to buy your line of argument, what happens when it mutates, and now we don't know the new vectors? Right now, it's possible that we could do a simple genotype and identify anyone susceptible and make sure they get a full course of the XR-238 antiviral. Even in the 'cold light of rationality,' it makes more sense to stop this bug in its tracks."
"We *can* control the spread. Quarantines. Controlled infection."
"What you're suggesting is monstrous."
"What I'm suggesting," Katie continued, emphasizing her words, "is that sometimes the world needs a monster to do those things good people--people like you, Sunil--cannot do. We need heartless bastards."
"No, Katie," Sunil said. He turned and held her arms at his side. Their gazes locked. When Katie tried to look away, Sunil followed her gaze. "You think we need someone heartless to be a monster. What I want is a world where everyone, even the heartless people, fight the monsters."
Sunil gestured at the rack of lab equipment sitting on the far wall. "That's the monster the gods gave us, a virulent pathogen so deadly within the span of months it has already killed thousands all over the world. It has no symptoms until you drop dead from a hemorrhagic fever. That's the monster. Heartless bastards like you may exist, Katie, but they exist to fight things like that, not to encourage them.
"You look at what you'd do like a cleansing wildfire that clears the way for new growth. But a wildfire is just that, wild. You cannot cage it. You cannot control it. You can try. You can make your burns surgical. You can stand by with a tanker full of water and hope you never have to use it. But in the end, if you let that kind of thinking infect you, all you've done is taken what's worst about the monster inside of you and let it change who you are."
Katie's eyes flashed back at him, pure defiance. Sunil sighed. He placed a hand gently against Katie's mask. "You'll understand, some day."
"So you're saying, I'm the asshole?" Katie said, smirking.
"No. I'm saying the possibility is there," Sunil said, putting on a brave smile.
"We'll see." Katie said. She raised her hands to her neck. *Snick*. She slipped her mask off and took a deep breath. | When the virus first emerged we all thought it was a new form of the flu or some rare contagion that crept it's way here from another country, but that couldn't possibly explain the rate of infection.
A few isolated cases at first, hospitals chalked it up to bad weather or bad luck, but when dozens started dying every day people started paying attention.
The strangest part was that the victims lived hundreds of miles away from each other, some had perfect health records, the only thing they had in common was they wouldn't be missed.
Rapists, thieves and murderers were common among the deceased. Some simply viewed this as karma, others developed wild conspiracy theories and many believed that God himself was casting retribution on the sinners of the world.
Suddenly people started acting much more nobly in front of others, looking over their shoulders and counting their good deeds. Had the virus come to save Earth by ridding us of the cancer of violence and aggression?
Scientists tried to study the virus but the infection never held in lab animals and human victims died too quickly. Really people were more interested in who was dying than why.
Crime had fallen drastically, the kind attitudes of others helped millions who previously suffered from anxiety and depression. Why would we want to stop this new world order?
Eventually as peace prevailed and communities thrived we replaced our capitalist republics with pure democracy based on the will of the people. We still had a presidential figure, but they acted more as a spiritual guide to the tranquil population. There hadn't been a death from the virus in 10 years, it seemed the days of deceit and power struggle were over.
Until one morning as the president was giving his daily address, he began coughing up blood on the podium, the infamous first sign that he had been selected for death.
A wave of panic spread as he was rushed to the hospital for observation. The entire population felt like a great scam artist had blinded them, those in denial started to renounce their faith in the virus' good will.
And then the riots began. Thousands took to the streets looting businesses and assaulting anyone in their way. The truly virtuous locked themselves in their homes, fearful and praying for the second wave of the virus to kill the vagrants in the streets.
But this time there was no divine retribution. The disease had never returned, in fact the president still lay alive in his hospital bed, comatose.
There was no more order, there was no more fear for the wicked. The virus was gone but a sickness had prevailed in destroying world: the disease of humanity. | 2014-11-21T11:27:05 | 2014-11-21T10:55:59 | 324 | 23 |
[WP]The Hunger Games hits a large university, but people are on teams based on their majors. Describe how various majors try to survive. | There was a rumble from the Engineering compound. One of the walls of their courtyard collapsed into a cloud of dust and rubble, and a towering machine emerged. It was a massive trebuchet, loaded with barrels full of some mysterious compound that the Chemistry majors had concocted. "It'll do the trick," they assured the Engineers. Macon Hall's defenses weren't *that* hardy, and there wasn't much else standing in the way of that massive stockpile of food from the Biology Department's gardens. Foot soldiers wearing welding masks and hastily-thrown together armor escorted the siege engine into the center of the quad. They made no effort to hide their presence, with taunts aimed at the psych majors hiding in the bushes and raucous laughter upon seeing them flee.
The force arrived at Macon Hall to an unexpected surprise: someone else had already lain siege to the building. The Anthropology/Linguistics Alliance (ALA) was clustered around the building, holding strange native weapons aloft and chanting in a hundred tongues. Through the windows, terrified biologists peered out at the unusual ritual. The ALA saw Engineering approaching and rapidly redeployed their forces, forming a tight knot around the stairway lead up to Macon. Always defend the high ground!
The trebuchet fired off a warning shot: one flaming barrel that soared through the air and crashed into the red brick wall of the third story. Even spectators across the quad were rocked by the shockwave, and the ALA troops were showered with crumbling brick and mortar. They realized that their defenses would be useless, and readied to charge the outnumbered engineers. The engineers formed up in front of their siege engine and prepared their make-shift flamethrowers for the assault.
"Gentlemen!" a voice called through a crackling bullhorn. "Drop your weapons, and we'll let you live!" It was the History Department, in a surprise flanking maneuver! They'd gone completely around the side of the medical school and come up behind Engineering! The ultimatum was not well received; in response, an engineer lobbed a homemade pipe bomb straight into the midst of the Historians. The Anthropologist seized on the temporary distraction and made their move.
It was a devastating bloodbath. Kidnapped members of the medical schools scurried from corpse to corpse, forced into servitude treating the fallen. White kids majoring in Japanese were mowed down trying to get close enough to use their Katanas for the first time. Engineers roasted alive as their makeshift flamethrower exploded by accident. History majors laying mortally wounded in the flowerbeds wondering how their deeds would be remembered. Biology majors throwing molotov cocktails out the window at anyone they could reach. And at long last, the field fell silent except for the burning remains of the trebuchet.
----
"Who are we writing to next?" Mallory asked.
"I say we go after Political Science next," Anthony volunteered. "They'd be easy enough. Convince them that they can make peace between the Biology department and the Economics department. They all think they're statesmen anyways."
"That could work. But what do we say to Economics to get them to turn on Biology?" Tom asked, pen poised over the paper.
"Easy." Mallory answered. "Just tell them that the deal must hinge on the economists choosing how best to allocate the food. For efficiency, of course!"
Tom wrote the letter as quickly as he could, channeling the Bard writing Hamlet. Everyone always underestimated the English majors. | Criminal Justice: Already knows all the ways to kill everyone. Improvises weapons and hides out. Lays false clues to incriminate others on deaths to incite in-fighting.
Chemistry: Makes poisons/uses various chemicals to incapacitate/kill.
Various Biologies (Entomology, Horticulture, Animal Science, etc.): Use known plants/toxins.
Business: Attempt to create alliances under their control.
Psychology: Use mental tactics to divert or deflect danger or lull others into false security.
| 2015-04-28T09:40:42 | 2015-04-28T09:15:04 | 79 | 10 |
[WP]everyone has a sigil on their body that represents powers that were bestowed onto humanity after the rapture of the Milky Way. The bullies at school always pick on you because you never used your power, but you’ve had enough. Now they are going to find out why your sigil is a plain old circle | Am I the hero or am I the villain? I've been asking myself that question for as long as I can remember. But before you help me, how about some history?
You see, before the rapture, life was bland. For most, they stuck to a daily routine. They lived in a life full of possibility but remained stagnant in their ambition.
After the rapture, our world changed. Technomamcers, pyromancers... Any mancer you could think of, the world now had one. At least one. Our world became more divided than ever before. Splitting into guilds, the earth became a battleground for control and the Necromancers craved that control. Their thirst for power started a war that the world was not ready for. Guilds focused on sigil training rather than knowledge and the earth slowly turned into a wasteland of destruction.
But things aren't all bad! We live on the outskirts, away from all the chaos. Since we're not seen as a threat, everyone just kind of leaves us alone. They call us Nomads. Yes, we have a sigil. They're on our palms but no one is really sure what it does. We live separate from the rest of society. More rural than anything else and no guilds to be a part of, but that's not a bad thing. We get to learn about history since our teachings have nothing to do with sigils considering we don't even know how ours work. We get to experience every little thing our world has to offer. It doesn't mean everything is perfect, but we enjoy our lives.
We rarely see travelers considering most stick to their guild, but occasionally we get what we call Transfers. Transfers are former guild members who essentially get shunned for underperforming with their guild or not mastering their sigil. At least, that's what they tell us. Most of the time a Transfer will leave shortly after arriving and we don't see them again.
A while ago, we found two kids, around my age, wandering the hills outside of our village. Both had been bestowed with the mark of pyromancy. Black fingertips and the flame sigil on each wrist. They were nice at first, even friendly until they realized that we didn't have any powers.
Sitting in the lone school house I'm hesitant, even terrified that the teacher will soon dismiss us for the weekend. When I hear her say "have a nice day students", I immediately bolt for the door in the hopes of outrunning yet another incident. As I run down my road home, I can see that my parents have started the dinner fire with the smoke billowing just above the tree line. And that's when I hear him.
"Well look who it is, little Nomad". I hear his voice and then see him walk out from behind a tree adjacent to the path. "What's the matter? Nothing to say?"
I'm hesitant to respond because I don't want to upset him. "What do you want, Mark?"
As I thought, he seems even more furious now that I've spoken to him. "What makes you think you or anybody here can talk to me? Can't you see we're better than you?".
I respond quickly out of fear "Just go be better somewhere else!"
"I was already somewhere else." He says eerily. "Can't you see it? Right over there." He points in the direction of my house. And then it hit me. School had let out early and it's not late enough for dinner.
"What did you do, Mark?" I shout with more anger than fear.
Calmly he responds. "More like, what did WE do?"
I turn around to see my sanctuary ablaze. Fully engulfed as the other transfer appears from the fire. Eric.
"It's time we eliminate the weak. There is no room for you in this world. All of the other covens have been destroyed. Yours is the last!" Eric exclaimed.
Mark widened his stance and threw his arms to his side. I know this stance. He's trying to conjure fire. I've seen it before. I feel helpless! I can feel my heart rate elevate! He lifts his head and looks toward the sky. I have to do something! The hairs on my neck stand up. I sprint towards him not knowing why or what to do when I get to him. His hands are starting to glow! Almost there! He looks down, eyes glowing, to see me in front of him. I grab his wrist and a confused look stumbles upon his face.
"What are you doing?" He shouts.
I can see his eyes fade back, his palms return to normal, the black on his fingertips fades... He loses consciousness. I look down at my hands just as confused as Mark was. I briefly see the flame sigil inside of my sigil and it almost immediately fades back to an empty ring.
Eric panics and sprints toward Mark and kneels down next to him. "What did you do!? His sigil is gone!"
Shaken, I reply. "I don't know..."
"You'll pay for this!" He raises his hand toward me, palm facing me as if trying to set me ablaze.
Instinctively, I grab his wrist and watch his sigil slowly fade. I check my palm and see the same as I did before. A fire sigil inside of my mine and then it fades.
All of this was when I was younger. I haven't been able to conjure fire. I am the last Nomad and I feel like I'm responsible for returning the world back to normal.
So I'll ask you... In a world full of powers, and me the only one able to neutralize them, does that make me the hero or villain? |
He has always been a very peaceful person which was often mistaken for being boring and uninteresting which lead to him getting left out. The only interaction he had with others in school was when his classmates would bully him with their outstanding powers. They were quite powerful and could possibly be used to kill others.
Gironimo had just transferred to this new school. Nero started to bully him because Gironimo seemed to be an easy target, seeing as his sigil only looked like a circle which indicated that he hadn’t formed an ability yet.
Nero possessed the ability to form deadly weapons from people’s iron, cutting up their insides and draining them of the ability to breathe properly because they couldn’t process the oxygen without iron in their blood. He knew, he could kill Gironimo but he never wanted to, seeing that he was sadistic but not a killer. Plus, he wanted to see what power Gironimo’s sigil could possibly have granted him, since it was just some circle.
Well, at least it looked like a circle if you didn’t pay attention. Everyone is born with a sigil but it has to develop and take shape over time. Gironimo’s sigil only modified ever so slightly to go from a circle to a zero. He even called his ability “Zero”, even though he himself didn’t know what it could do. The sigil’s abilities were always based on one’s personality, so it would not be surprising that a violent person like Nero had such a brutal ability while the selfless May who would do anything for others could heal others with the drawback of not being able to heal herself.
The day after Gironimo's transfer, Nero approached Gironimo. “Would you like to die?”, he said as if he just asked a normal question. “I mean, you can try”, he said confidently, even though he didn’t even know of Nero’s powers since he was always very careful with when he would use them. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Gironimo felt something cutting up the inside of his mouth and started to spew out razor blades along with alarming amounts of blood. He started to cry and shouted “Zero”. Immediately, the blood he coughed up went back into his mouth and the razor blades turned back into iron and re-entered his body. Meanwhile, Nero started to cough up razor blades and now he was the one crying and screaming. “You fucker”, Gironimo shouted. “Look what you’ve done. Look how badly I was bleeding. Why the fuuuuuucckkkk???”. He started kicking the still crying Nero and quickly left before the teachers could spot him. | 2020-02-26T08:01:07 | 2020-02-26T07:41:46 | 99 | 19 |
[WP] They said space was the final frontier. They were wrong. | They said space was the final frontier. Well, I bet European sailors thought the same thing when first confronted with the Atlantic ocean. Much like they had no idea what else was actually out there, neither did we.
My voyage was one of hope, courage, and exploration. Like Neil Armstrong before me, I set out to go where no human had ever gone before. Unlike Neil, I knew I wouldn't be coming back. Of that one little detail, there was no hope at all. No, I was on a one-way trip to discover the undiscoverable. I would travel into a black hole, to see what was on the other side or die trying.
What kind of a lunatic would volunteer for something like this? A terminal one, of course. I was diagnosed with Stage 3 Hodgkin Lymphoma at 17 years old. After three years of aggressive chemotherapy treatment, I knew that I wasn't going to get better. It spread throughout my body, even into my bones. I was riddled with cancer. Call it luck of the draw, or just plain bad luck, it didn't matter. I'd be dead inside of a year.
Although I was cynical about life (who wouldn't be, in my position? Try it sometime if you don't believe me.), I'd always had a great, soaring love for science and the idea of space exploration. So when NASA announced that a "rogue" black hole had entered the solar system, I knew that I had to get them to send me out there. It posed no danger to Earth; it was on a trajectory that would allow it to pass between Jupiter and Saturn without doing any harm.
I'd contacted someone in Public Relations at NASA and explained my situation. I was going to die no matter what. Knowing that, I wanted my death to mean something. Rogue black holes had long been suggested, but never proven. Now we had one in our solar system. This was just too good of a chance to miss out on. To my amazement, just a month later NASA contacted me back. They agreed that it presented an interesting opportunity. However, due to the sensitive nature of the mission, it could not be publicly known. If I still wanted to go forward, my family would be told that I'd died peacefully in my sleep. It would hurt them deeply, but I could live with it (heh) knowing that their suffering caused by watching me die would end sooner.
They moved me to a certain secret government installation in the middle of the Nevada desert. Sorry to disappoint, but it really is just a secret plane testing facility. There are no aliens out there (that I saw, anyway). They trained me as best as they could in the basics of moving around in zero gravity and operating the comm systems that would be present in my one-man ship. However most of that would be unnecessary, because they were going to put me in hibernation.
You know all the space movies that show the hero dropping into a vat of goo or getting into a super futuristic bed and then going to sleep for 20 years while the ship takes them where they need to go? Well, NASA really has something like that. I have no idea how it works, but they told me it's a technology created by a branch of Cryonics research. I don't have to know how a microwave works for it to cook my burrito, though, so I didn't ask too many questions.
The intercept with the black hole would take nearly 4 years. In that time, I'd be unconscious and unreachable. If something went wrong with the ship, I'd be dead. If the ship missed the intercept, I'd drift off into space forever, eventually dying of starvation, suffocation, or dehydration - whichever came first. I'd have enough rations for one month, as my hybernation was set to end just 23 days before the intercept. When I came out of the sleep, I'd report back to NASA on a secret communication line they'd established just for that purpose. Then I'd head onward and into the abyss, so to speak.
So that brings you up to speed on the backstory. Skipping over the boring part, I didn't die on the way there. I woke up 23 days before intercept as scheduled, and got back in touch with NASA. They filled me in on some minor details about events on Earth, as well as brought me up to speed on what my family had been doing since my death.
Then the rogue black hole loomed before me, and well, I went through it. It was there that I thought my story would end, and rightly so. Spaghettification is a bitch. Or, so we thought. Like I said though, this is just where the story begins.
______________________________
If you like where this is headed and want more, let me know and I'll continue. | Sixteen years travelling at lightspeed brought the exploration team here. On the edge of the charted universe, two guards appeared to be standing on...nothing. The data dinks were crunching numbers, the theorists were flipping through pages and pages of known theories. The Captain and crew looked at each other before gazing at the two guards who wore brush-like armor and behind them appeared something strange. Something, yet nothing, the crew who stared out the viewing port could sense something behind the guards but saw nothing.
"Hailing to unidentified faction," the radioman radioed, "identify yourself."
"Present yourself," the guards replied, "you will not be able to breathe, but you will not die."
The Captain looked and knew he had to be the one. He messaged that he was ready but had no way of leaving the ship as it had been sealed shut accidentally during lightspeed; in a flash, he appeared outside of the viewing port and in front of the guards.
"You wish to enter?"
"Enter where?"
"Through this entrance," the guard's helmet disappeared and a human stared directly into the Captain's eyes, "lies what you refer to as a synapse. What information could you possibly bring into the Axon Network?"
"We..." the Captain and crew finally understood their place in the universe; planet Earth was not the only living planet in the universe and in fact, not even a planet, but a small part of a living cell. The Guards were looking over the cell membrane to purge any infectious invaders. The Captain decided it was time to open communications with whatever was outside of the cell.
"We've been waiting for this moment," the Guards replied.
***EDIT: Thanks for the points everyone! This is my first WP and I didn't expect the welcoming!*** | 2016-04-02T20:56:44 | 2016-04-02T19:04:19 | 55 | 36 |
[WP] In 1977 NASA launched Voyager I. It contained information showing the technology of the world at the time. 3000 years an advanced alien race finds it and decides to take over this "primative" civilization. What they didn't know was that humanity had advanced a long way in 3000 years... | "Gooo Johnny go, GO! Gooo Johnny go, G-"
"Gleevart! Keep your beak shut! We are aiming for annihilation, not assimilation!" Prime Master Otana was in a mood. She normally got this way on the eve of battle.
"Relax, Otana. These pendleblips probably haven't even figured out photon harvesting. We'll barely have to lift a tentacle."
"One more word out of your beak and I'll feed you to the Kragnon." Otana grew tired of the informal way Gleevart spoke to her. Yes, this mission would be simple, but a Prime Master was trained to properly prepare for battle regardless of the opponent. Otana took that training especially seriously. She wanted to go over her available resources and the predicted opponent technology once more. This is why the Overseer had chose her to become a Prime Master. She was fanatical in her approach to warfare. This would make her 1000th obliteration. Only one other Prime Master had more. *That damn Phalindra.* Last she had heard, Phalindra had destroyed an entire system of civilizations that had just discovered hyperspace with only 1% of the royal fleet's ships at her assistance. If Phalindra could do that with 1%, she could do this with 0.1%. Which is exactly what she told the Overseer.
Prior to their departure for *Earth*, Otana had gone over the predictions with her trusted researchers. This was not the first time they had come across some worthless civilization that pondered if they were the only ones present in the universe. In fact, it was pretty common. About a fourth of the time, when Otana arrived to obliterate, she found that the barbarians had already done the job for her by obliterating themselves, leaving their planet's resources ripe for the plucking. Those cases always bored her. She was bred for war. She craved it. It was part of the reason the took the risk of bringing a thousandths of the royal fleet's ships. She wanted it to be a "fair" fight. Although there was nothing fair about bringing photon-based technology to a fight with civilizations still running on carbon based fuel, she thought to herself. The juxtaposition of the two technologies made her laugh internally.
Her researchers had determined that nearly half of advanced civilizations destroyed themselves in brutal civil wars within 10,000 earth years of discovering space travel. It usually took 5,000 years following the first spaceflight to discover and utilize photon harvesting as a source of energy, and another 1,000 years after that to figure out how to utilize photon energy to make their ships hyperspace capable. Unfortunately for these poor earthlings, they would be woefully unprepared for the fait that awaits them. The researchers had found that the gold disc that had amazingly bumped into one of their research ships, provided them with the exact coordinates to Earth.
Why is it that these civilizations are so trusting of those they have yet to meet? Otana thought to herself.
Among the gold disc they had found Earth's music, pictures of Earthlings, pictures of their puny buildings and primitive spacecrafts. It was all quite adorable. Otana would enjoy destroying it all. Luckily for her, they were seconds away from leaving hyperspace and within striking distance of Earth.
And as immediately as they had left hyperspace, she immediately recognized how big of a mistake she had made. She had heard rumors of quantum ships, but she had never seen them herself. Unfortunately, it would be the last thing Prime Master Otana ever saw. That, and Gleevart inking himself.
--------------------------------
"Ha! Got em'!" Craig was ecstatic.
"Nice shooting there, cowboy!" Captain Tom exclaimed.
"You see boys, the trick about fishing for squidlings is you got to throw out the lure first, and then sit back and wait. Waiting is probably the toughest part, but you can't blame them, they are only using photon engines." Craig's father explained to Craig and his little brother Timothy.
"Exactly. Personally, I prefer using the Voyager lure, but I've heard people have lots of success with the Pioneer 10 and 11, as well." Captain Tom added. "Welp, hope y'all enjoyed Captain Tom's intergalactic fishing tour. Please tell your friends about it." | Looking out at the red planet, the race began it's first and last attack.
A race of creatures ten feet tall, two long legs, fangs, scales, and blood-red eyes began to walk along the Rocky plains of what used to be Australia. Due to the similarities of the aliens' home planet, they were mostly uneffected. Walking around, one of the creatures saw prints in the ground; Footprints. Yelling in an unknown language, the creatures ran in a hoarde of hundreds, looking for a kill. What they saw, though...
Well, firstly, some backstory. The year was 2101. Humanity was.... ALMOST DEAD. Yes, you read that right. Gone. You see, a war was spread out amount all of mankind. A meteor was 3 hours away. Nobody was going to live. As such, humanity went out with a bang. Thousands of Nuclear Bombs went off at once, and all living beings died out. But not at earth- at the meteor. As the Earth was shattered by radiated rocks, life wilted and died. Well, natural life, that is. What humanity left behind, well...
AI. Artificial Intelligence. These creatures saw just one, and began to run to it. However, in a blur, all nearby were killed. From the distance, mile-long ships soared across the skies. The creatures ran.
But by the next day, they were extinct. | 2018-10-21T02:29:45 | 2018-10-20T16:25:15 | 25 | 13 |
[WP] "When entering the academy students often bring their pets. Most being the typical miniature dragon, gryphon, sabertooth, even the occasional golem. However you decided to bring this...this thing. I'm afraid the headmaster will need to hear of this." | "Are you kidding me!? Leonard's not a 'thing', he's my puppy!" Rusty shouted, holding the tiny corgi puppy up to the Deputy Headmistress's face. Deputy Headmistress Stroude let out an uncharacteristic shriek and jumped back.
"GET THAT FILTHY LITTLE DEMON AWAY FROM ME!" she screeched.
"How dare you say something like that to a sweet boy like Leonard!? You were fine with all the god-awful monsters the other losers brought!" shouted Rusty.
"Miss Bailey, I recommend that you do not badmouth your fellow students. After all, you are here on a scholarship-"
"Yeah, against my will! You bombarded my fuckin' house with owls and talking letters until I came here just to make it stop!"
"*Miss Bailey,* it is not your place to badmouth our fine academy's generosity!"
"And it's not *yours* to give Leonard shit," Rusty retorted, crossing her arms. Deputy Headmistress Stroude sighed and pinched her nose.
"Ah, you human-borns are all the same," she muttered.
"And you magic bitches are all stuck-up assholes, but you don't see *me* whining about *you*! Or your creepy-ass lizard!" Rusty pointed to the purple mini dragon perched on the Deputy Headmistress's shoulder. The dragon flicked out its forked tongue and let out a quiet hiss.
"Russetta Alexandra Bailey, you have been nothing but a thorn in my side and disgrace to magical kind since you came here! The Headmaster *will* be hearing about this!" Deputy Headmistress Stroude shouted, storming away.
"Cool! Make sure to tell him my pup's name is Leonard! That's *Lehhh-nurrd!* L-E-O-N-A-R-D!" Rusty called after her. The Deputy Headmistress muttered something about 'those unruly human-borns' before vanishing from sight.
\*\*\*
"Headmaster Cellius, you can *not* let that *ruffian* from The Bronx wreak havoc on our school like this! She's already put three students in the medical ward with her ***fists***, made two teachers cry, and made four lovely Wizard-Borns from good families transfer to other schools out of pure fear!" ranted Deputy Headmistress Stroude. "And now, she brought that horrible creature into our academy! Something *must* be done about her!"
"Deputy Headmistress, do you remember what the prophecy said?" the Headmaster asked calmly. "*The most unlikely of-*"
"Yes, yes, I know, but surely it didn't mean *that* unlikely!"
"I'm afraid it did, Deputy Headmistress. Leave my office at once, and do try to give Miss Rusty a bit of breathing room. Perhaps she wouldn't be so tempted to violate our rules if you didn't cram them down her throat all the time," Headmaster Cellius said firmly. Deputy Headmistress Stroude glared at him, but backed out of the office without giving him a hard time. Headmaster Cellius sighed. While Stroude was a fine second-in-command most of the time, she could be quite a handful. He actually quite liked Rusty: She was drastically different from most of the students here, and reminded him of his young self. And, of course, he loved dogs.
​
EDIT: Holy crap, thanks so much for all the awards! Glad to see you guys liked the idea of a dog-loving Hogwarts (well, some similar school) student from The Bronx as much as I did :) | [Poem]
I was not a good student,
For my lifeblood were pranks,
So elaborate all my effort got spent,
And for every vacation, my teachers would give thanks.
 
Studying was such a bore,
I decided of me there should be more,
An incantation, a drop of blood,
And I had a new bud!
 
Triumphantly I returned,
The new year, brimming with potential,
Yet soon I was spurned,
Told speaking to the headmaster was essential,
 
And, although I had my plans all set,
I learnt, I can't bring myself as a pet. | 2021-08-02T09:56:00 | 2021-08-02T09:51:49 | 706 | 67 |
[WP] “Now be careful, that line of rock salt is the only thing keeping them out,” the man said, welcoming me into his refuge group. “Sea salt,” I clarified, “sea salt keeps us out.” | If I were in his position I would’ve been frightened, too. Let me tell you, if I were--let me tell you--in *his* position, facing the light that takes them into the other world, confronting unknown enemies of untold monstrous proportions, then I would’ve been *horrified*. *Terrified*. Really *shaken*. I see that, I really do.
But that’s no excuse to shut the gate on an incoming guest’s foot. Fortunately, I can’t feel pain, except for the pain in my heart. This is the thing with humans. They have all the nerves. The nerve to feel *this* pain and the nerve to feel *that* sensation of heat, but they also have the nerve to shut the door on somebody’s foot.
Complete rubbish of a species. This is why my kind are trying to wipe them out. Because they shut the gate on another’s feet.
“Hey!” I exclaimed. “I’m walking here!”
“Nope nope nope. Get out and stay out.”
“Look, realistically, what am I going to do to you?”
“So you admit you’re a monster. You’re going to kill me, aren’t you-”
“No, I’m-”
“-Then you’re going to eat me! And then eat my children!”
“Stop. Listen-”
“Then you’re going to throw me up into another dimension where your alternate reality selves are going to prepare me into a fine roast-”
“That’s just ridiculous-”
“I’m going to be turned into human cordon-bleu.”
“Hey, hey, hey! Stop! Relax! Chill!” By then, the man was hyperventilating. I don’t like seeing people or animals or monsters and what have you freaking out. It tends to make me feel anxious as well.
“... I’m sorry-” he said.
“I bet you are.”
“-but not sorry.”
“... What’s the point in even mentioning it, then?”
“Are you really telling me the rock salt doesn’t work?”
I shook my head. “Of course it doesn’t work. What do you take us for?”
“Monsters.”
“We’re not that, either. Look, to you folks, we seem like monsters, but to us, you all seem like-”
“Cordon-bleu.”
“No-”
“Potential cordon-bleu.”
“Not that either. To tell you the truth, you are all primates to us. Primitive people. People that get their salts wrong and their socks messed up.”
The man looked down. “I didn’t think anyone would notice.”
“Yeah, well it’s obvious to all of us. People, animals, monsters and what have you.”
“I have my socks messed up.”
“And you’re not wearing a belt.”
“I put body wash into my hair too. I mistook it for shampoo. I’m such a mess-”
“Yes, you are.”
“-but not a mess.”
“Like I said, what’s the point in even mentioning it.”
Alright, so I don’t know when, but at some point in the conversation, I became a sort of therapist to this guy. I tried steering the conversation back to the subject of salt and nerves, but he would *not* stop talking. He kept going on and on and on and on, self-deprecating, self-pitying. It was a real sore sight.
“Look,” I took off my spectacles and rubbed my hands together. “I hear you. Loud and clear. Did that make you feel better?”
The man rose from his resting recliner. “Yeah… It did… Thank you for hearing me out. My wife never listens to me. I can never talk to her about these things. My wife-”
“Let’s put a brake on the ‘wife’ for now,” I stopped him. “Let’s return to the salt issue. As an invading species-”
“So you admit to invading us.”
“No comment. Anyway, as an invading species, we expect at least a little clever resistance.”
“... What do you mean?”
“I mean if we’re going to invade you,”
“Yes.”
“Then at least make it somewhat entertaining and satisfying for us to conquer you. If this were a tower defense game, I would be seriously doubting whether this is worth my time, because you can’t even get the first steps right.”
“So you admit to wanting to conquer us. You genociders.”
“Oh ho ho, and you humans are better? What, just because you have two arms and two eyes and can make anime that you think you are *so* above all of your atrocities? Let me not remind you that you eat *string cheese* and *jello* of all things.”
“You ended up reminding me anyway.” | “Now be careful, that line of rock salt is the only thing keeping them out,” the man said, welcoming me into his refuge group.
“Sea salt,” I clarified, “sea salt keeps us out.” I said clambering down to my belly. For the boys I produced a most marvellous impression of a slug upon their floorboards.
“Weee, weee,” I said, “the salt is killing me,” I said, a best slug voice. I rolled to a ball, I died. “I am a dead slug,” I continued, and produced the greatest slug impression ever, I believe so, I don’t do the routine for very many people. I died actually comedically, because this here “Bulwark of Society” the words stamped over their doorway, was not the comedy crowd I anticipated. I stood up, shook down, shook the hands of the gentlemen arranged around the log cabin.
“The name’s Rupert,” I said. “F\*kkin slugs, eh, are such a menace.”
“Beef,” said Beef.
“Golly, what big guns!” I giggled. Chaps’ beards remained fixedly beardlike. “What do you boys like to eat around these parts?” I said.
“Parts,” said Rockson. “When we do find them, in country.” He sniffed. He shook my hand. “I am the armourer for the section. We defend humanity against the invasion of the slugs from outer space.”
“You idi…” I sputtered. “You identify the threat, and eliminate the dangers. Where do I sign for the big war?” I replied, destiny held in their big hands. Mmmm. | 2021-03-02T09:10:50 | 2021-03-02T08:52:57 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] On everyone's 18th birthday at noon, one word appears in their skin, depicting their career or purpose in life. On your birthday you're staring at a clock showing 11:59am, family and friends gathered around for your reveal.
Path 1: Noon strikes, and you stare at your forearm intently. 12:01, still nothing appears.
Path 2: one word fades in slowly, followed by a second... | I glanced nervously at my watch, still holding a wry smile. *12:01*.
My mom gave me a reassuring nod, but her brow furrowed in the same way as it does when I suit up for football. Hopeful. Excited. Definitely nervous. *12:02*.
Dad makes a nervous laugh. “Jim, you remember how much I was sweating at my Calling Day?” He elbows my uncle, who returns with the same nervous laugh. *12:03*.
I rub my arm frantically, trying to disguise the welling up in my throat, the cold prickling on my scalp. I pretend no one can hear the jackhammer playing in my chest. *12:04*.
Relief starts to sweep over me when I see a change on my forearm. Then dread. A bird flew by the window. My hopes were really shadows. That made it all worse. I was doomed. Hands down, worst day of my life. *12:05*.
I stared silently for the next half hour, trying not to make eye contact with anyone. Mom started to pass around refreshments to break the tension. It was well-meant, I suppose. A handful of friends tried to encourage me as they left the party, usually laying a hand on my shoulder as if that would make it better, as if that bridged the gap between the outcast and the Called. My eyes could not help but stray to their arms as they came by. Chef, Diplomat, Plumber, Accountant, Soldier, Engineer, Mechanic. Each future bright and open. Mine was blank. I’d give a perfunctory nod, unsmiling, still staring forward. They would leave.
I heard dad get into a heated conversation with our family doctor an hour or two later. Something, something pituitary gland… something, something never happened before… it didn’t matter to me. Maybe it gave him some comfort to know that science had zero answers for me tonight and he, Mechanic, a classic fixer, couldn’t do any more.
Mom brought dinner, trying to get me to eat. She’s always been really thoughtful like that, but I wasn’t hungry. At least, hunger or fullness didn’t matter to me right now. I was purposeless. Later she brought cookies. As a Baker, it was the best offering she could bring. I knew they were amazing. I almost smiled. But I shook my head and stared.
At some point, I realized it was dark, so I found my bed and slept.
Mom called me in sick to school the next day. I didn’t leave the bed.
The day after was a Saturday. It was also the first day I cried, and the first day I spoke.
“Why? If there’s a God or a benevolent universe, why the hell me? I did my time! I was a good kid. I worked hard at school. So, why? Give me one good reason why I don’t get a purpose! This is humiliating!”
The universe remained silent. To be fair, we’ve never exactly been on speaking terms anyway.
I went to school the next week, forearm bandaged in shame. It probably drew as many eyes as my naked skin would have, and just as many whispers.
In fifth period, Mr. Hardiman walked up calmly during lab and asked how I was doing. He had Chemist written on his right arm, the word now faded with time.
“Oh, you know, just adjusting to being a social outcast.”
“Really, is that what you have written under there were you won’t show anyone?”
“You haven’t heard?” I couldn’t tell if he was being naïve or sarcastic, but his tone suggested the latter. “You must be the only one.”
He looked thoughtfully at me for a moment, then grinned and took off his glasses to polish them, which was usually a sign that he was trying to be especially serious. “You know, when I had my Calling day, I was secretly hoping to see ‘Traveler’ pop up, but I got this instead. It was fine, I loved the sciences and it was no letdown to work in them, but part of me did regret not pursuing those mountains and deserts and far reaches of the world I kept reading about. I’ve made it as far as Mt. Holyoak for a ski trip since, but that’s about it.” The glasses returned to their perch. “Do you mind taking off the bandage so I could see?”
I was reluctant. No, I was terrified. But his tone was sincere, and I trusted him. The white guaze fell to the floor.
Mr. Hardiman beamed warmly. “Blank slate. Must be nice.” And he walked away.
Silence. I did not notice until then that the entire class was holding its breath. Then I noticed I was holding my own.
I was a blank slate, an unwritten page, a road untraveled. I was free and could do anything I wanted. So I stood up, smiled, and walked out the door.
“I make my own destiny.” | It was 11:59 and while the whole family gathered around, my mother was no where to be seen. I expected that she would have joined us. After all, she'd been there for my older sister's reveal, and my brother's reveal. But instead she was watering the garden while it rained steadily.
C'mon, mom, I know I'm not your favorite, but you could at least put on a front this time.
"It's noon!" my sister squealed. "Pullupyoursleeve!"
A moment of dread shot through me. I can't say that I knew exactly what was wrong, but I knew that something wasn't right. There was no tingling in my arm, just a feeling in the pit of my stomach that told me something was going to be revealed today and I wasn't going to like it.
I pulled up my sleeve and no words appeared. Frantically, I pulled up the other sleeve, shoving it all the way up to my armpit. It had to be there. My sister tugged my shirt up, peeking under it. Not that the words ever appeared anywhere besides on your dominant forearm. "Where is it?"
"He won't get it yet," my mother barked from the sliding glass door. "He's not going to be 18 for another two months."
"What?" I yelped. "Today's my birthday!" My sister's hands fell and my shirt slid back down into place.
My mother shook her head. "You're father and I were separated, and I met a man..." she said quietly, her round eyes darting towards my father.
"You said the baby was mine! You said he was just early!" my father shouted.
She crumpled into a chair, her wet hair dripping onto her face. Her mouth wobbled and she stared at the floor. "He's not and he wasn't."
Two months and three days later, my parents' marriage was in shambles, and I walked into my sister's room, pulled up my sleeve, and showed her the words that had appeared the day before. "MARRIAGE COUNSELOR"
| 2017-03-16T03:45:52 | 2017-03-16T03:19:48 | 188 | 129 |
[WP] The first and greatest superhero and villain of all time respectively were said to have killed each other in combat. Decades later the current greatest supervillain is instantly annihilated upon threatening an elderly couple outside their remote cottage, and the truth becomes known | "Doomhive, this is 42, I repeated.. Mister...the Doomhive, this is 42. Preparations are complete. You can begin transmission whenever you're ready."
The henchman was nervous, shaky, his hand holding the walkie-talkie too tightly only realizing his mistake just in time to hear the ending of the following message.
"...the screen, 42. 42? 42! Let go of the button 42. God dammit, 42!"
"You must be new." I chimed in. Doing the match in my head, Doomhive only had a dozen or so henchmen active at a time. They were rotated frequently... mostly because of my actions putting them out of commission. 42. "If I recall, Marcus was number 41, so you're the one replacing him. Ooo, sucks for you, he HATED Marcus, Marcus got all the worse assignments."
"S-s..shut up....YOU...." 42's brain fizzled out long before it could concoct any semblance of an insult to call me. His attention turning back to the walkie-talkie.
"42, this is 24, you NEED to turn on the screen. We aren't detecting a device to stream our feed to."
This was getting old. I was only a sidekick, and a part time one at that. I worked with a few heroes, which meant I was the target of a lot of kidnappings. I wondered who I was being used as bait for this time. Maybe Mechanica, or Hurlicane, no this was Doomhive. The most dangerous and powerful villain alive today. He had to be after bigger fish than that.
"This is 42. Turning the screen on now."
"You must still be in training. You're the turn the screen on monkey. How do you mess up turning on a screen? If you're after Ghosthand he's not even in play this month, he's not even in this realm..."
"I'm not after Ghosthand, I'm after you..." a familiar voice on the screen chimed in. Doomhive himself deciding to grace me, a little old side kick a visit. "Chance the Zapper."
"And what on earth do you want with me?" I was genuinely curious. I wasn't a powerful side kick, nothing really special, I didn't try to be at least. "Want me to teach your henchmen to actually be useful?" I teased casting a purposeful glance at 42.
"I know your true power. I've studied you for some time now and all the other heroes. You play yourself as a simple peon with shock powers but you actually have the power to alter fate, to influence outcomes. The little bit of shocking you do is only a by product, a discharge of the energy that is built up from the friction of your being pulling from alternate dimensions." Doomhive spoke, smug in his assumptions of my powers and shockingly, no pun intended, he was 95% right.
"Fuck...." the world slipped from my lips unintentionally this was bad.
"What was that, my boy? You thought you could keep a secret from me. From Professor Doomhive!" Insert generic evil villain laugh. Even 42's dull, not quite all there eyes gleamed with glee to see the mild panic on my face. "... So, from now on you're going to work for me. Got it, kid."
Composing myself I took a deep breath a looked at the screen and tried to paint on as coy a smile as I could to cover the nervousness that was welling up from my gut. "Even if that was the case, why would I willingly work for you?"
"Well!..." Doomhive spread his arms in a dramatic flare and paused. After a few seconds he'd look over and nudge his head to the side a little. Doing it a few more times before hissing out. "31... 31! I thought we talked about this... when I do this..." he repeated the gesture flapping his arms out in a ridiculous panache. "... you're suppose to zoom the camera out."
The camera immediately zoomed out as 31 hit the button to zoom out.
"G'dammit, not now!" Doomhive shouted as the camera immediately zoomed back in him. "You do it when I do this." Doomhive repeated the cue and immediately it would zoom back out. "Not now, I was just showing....Ahhhhrrgg" Doomhive throwing his hand forward one of the parasitic creatures that lived in his body shot forward and 31 was no more. "24. 24! Get on the camera! And do it right!"
"Oh, look 42, you just got a possible promotion!" I teased.
"He's..he's fine.. the boss just knocked him out... he's just unconscious..." he said watching the screen with some shock, most likely he was staring at his inevitable future.
"Yeah, that's just 31's sleepy juice leaking out of his body and onto the camera lens." Honestly between myself, the other heroes, and Doomhive himself, the life and well being of his henchmen were brief at best.
"Why are you crying!? Pick up the camera 24!" Doomhive was still shouting. "Its just a little blood.... Just push him aside and pick it up.... PICK IT UP!" Doomhive shouted as hysteric crying could be heard now clearly off camera. "Oh don't cry even more. I'm not going to kill you. You're the only other minion out here. Who else is going to work the camera while I monologue?"
There was some mumbling off camera and nodding from Doomhive and the camera slowly and shakily started to rise and center back on Doomhive. | Cid sat on the worn, dried wood of his porch steps and stared at the throbbing pile of organs in the dirt driveway.
“Honey,” he called, mopping the balding pate of his head. A grunt came from somewhere inside. He toed the organs with his boot. “Honey, they’re gonna talk this time.”
Cid heard plates rattle and the hollow stomping of his approaching wife. The windows rattled, as they always did, when she stopped to open the door, then stopped suddenly as she passed the threshold to stand behind him. She placed a small hand on his shoulder and squeezed slightly. It hurt.
“Eh,” he grunted.
“Sorry dear,” she said absently, pulling her hand away before gently patting the shoulder. “Who’s this?”
“Some big shot,” said Cid, looking at the glistening rib cage protruding from the mess of organs and clothing. “Must’a been a finder some kind.”
She stood behind him in silence for a while, hand gently patting his shoulder. They looked down the long, winding dirt path that led through the corn field surrounding their small house. The road was deeply rutted where rain had flowed the nights before, and blood was seeing into the muddy channels, reaching away from the carnage like tentacles.
Cid reached and twined his hand into hers and looked upwards.
“Brought a satellite,” he said, staring into the sky intently.
“They’ve had gadgets before, dear,” she said, cautiously squeezing his hand. The porch began to vibrate underneath him.
“Eh,” Cid said, and a small, brilliant flash erupted briefly in the sky and was gone. He looked down, and the wet pile of organs and clothing erupted into a brilliant, brief flame. The heat baked the mud, leaving the ground peeling and cracked, the mess gone.
The porch was shaking now, rattling through Cid as he sat, shaking his teeth in their sockets. He stood up.
“I love you,” he said, looking at his wife. She was much too short to be so strong, he thought, staring at the lines around her eyes.
There was a great crack, and the porch shuddered underneath them. They walked steadily down the shaking steps, now heaving back and forth, sending large splinters of wood flying in several directions. They heard the rumble and crash as their cottage shook, the foundation cracking, and began to cave in on itself, the crash of metal and porcelain, of glass and plastic, the deep gust of a starting fire as they walked down the dirt path. Their boots left cracked, heat baked earth beside the long channels of blood stained mud as they walked away, each holding the other’s hand in the reddening rays of the evening sun. | 2020-09-02T12:05:12 | 2020-09-02T11:21:27 | 33 | 15 |
[WP] A man gets a phone call saying his parents have been in an accident and passed away. Five minutes later, he gets a call saying his daughter had been in an accident and died on the scene. Turns out she was drunk driving and crashed into his parents. Write what happens after the second call. | "Okay. Goodbye."
I put the phone down carefully, unplugging the line as I do so. I notice the television in the next room being turned up; the adverts must've ended, back to the Kardashians.
I open the top shelf (the one she can't reach) and examine the bottles. I want something steep. I was saving the last of my good whiskey for Christmas, but the Christmas no longer exists. The last few droplets fall into the glass; barely even half full, and when I walk from the kitchen toward the darkened lounge I don't bother to close the shelf door behind me.
From the doorway, I examine her. TV dinner she didn't think to include me in, framed by the five remote controls for the box infront of her. She sits legs up, absent mindedly picking the fading varnish off her nails.
"My parents have died."
She doesn't flinch, she doesnt even look at me.
"Oh... that's terrible."
"It happened an hour ago. They were in a collision..." My drinks beginning to run low, I resolve myself to taking my time. Savour it.
"I don't know what you want me to say Paul, you know how I felt about your parents."
She finally looks up and I cant hold my gaze, examing the bottom of my glass and trying not to spoil the taste of whiskey with tears.
"Hell if anything I feel bad for the poor shit that they drove into..."
Drink diminishing.
"...Are you crying, right now? Fuck, Paul, be a man for once in your life. You haven't spoke to them in months."
"They were hit by a drunk driver. And I haven't spoken to them because you told me you didn't want me to, that you'd-"
"Oh my God. Paul!" She laughs "You are such a pussy. You have a car, you could go anytime."
"I don't have a car."
"Claire's borrowing it for tonight you'll have it back tomorrow. Trust her for once."
I'm behind her now, looking at the family photos; her and Claire at disneyworld, her and Claire out for Claire's 18th, and her, her ex boyfriend and Claire at the pool together (in the most lavishly decorated frame).
"She's not coming back."
That got her attention. A skinny hand shoots toward the remote and claws for the mute button as she turns sharply to face me.
"Don't fucking talk about my daughter like that. She's yours too! And another thing..."
I tune her out and pick up the decorated frame. The girl isn't mine. She was never mine, I've seen this picture too many times not to notice the same eyes, or the nose, or the fact this mans hand is resting very comfortable on my wifes ass.
"... For you to say that shit to me? You've been a lousy father. Rick has always been there for me even after we broke up..."
I look around in the dark room, full of memories that I didn't share, but paid for. They probably fucked in here. I thought I was stepping in to help a single mother, she used to be so nice and Claire was so shy back then; I guess apples fall close enough to the tree to land themselves in my car, drunk, at two o clock in the morning.
"... That girl is a saint, Paul. A saint. You know what? I shouldn't have to tell you. If you bought her a car (like she asked you for) then you wouldn't even be in this situation..."
From across the room I see her phone begin to ring, and imagine the conversation that's about to take place. She'll be crying, maybe throw things. I'm running it through my head when I realise; how much I hated hearing the news about my parents over the phone, just so impersonal, and how much she should hear this in person. From someone close to her, from her husband.
"... Can you get that for me? You're up." She turns back to the television and Kim Kardashians painful voice once again penetrates the air.
"Of course Honey!" I smile, and hear her mutter a sarcastic reply as I grab her phone, moving to stand between her and the television.
I finish my drink.
"Well?" She sticks out her hand. I'm able to look her in the eye now, and prepare to gently place the phone down in her hand.
"Your daughters dead."
I'm out the room when the ringing stops and I hear her answer, and I'm out of the house when she runs out screaming after me.
For the first time in nineteen years I am free, and I mourn.
| He wanted to tell the mother of his only child. His only dead child, but she was probably off vacationing in Aruba or some other place with her new fancy boyfriend.
He couldn't talk to anyone else, because no one cared.
"This is a dream" Eric said in shock, slapping himself in the face, as hard as he possibly could. Why wasn't his location changing, why was he still in a hotel room, alone, without a family.
"Just a dream" Eric said, his voice getting more frantic. He slapped himself harder, there was a red, hand shaped mark on his face now. He was still in the hotel room.
"That's all it is" he said to himself as he stood up, he hadn't even realized he was sitting down. The room was spinning, it was like an earthquake.
"Just a dream" he said, laughing. "The walls are closing in, this is just a dream" he said to no one in particular, still laughing, a lunatic smile on his face.
"A nightmare" he concluded, triumphantly. "It's a fucking nightmare, I'll wake up tomorrow, and I'll be with my family" he said, he was almost shouting now. He was sweating profusely, his breath getting shorter with every single word we spoke.
"Just a dream" he said as he crashed on the bed. "I'll be with mom, dad and Jane tomorrow, I know it"
He closed his eyes, his chest was hurting, the walls seemed to get even closer, he was feeling sick, he was getting kicked into reality.
They found him about seven hours later when he missed a wake up call.
Eric Matthews did join his parents and his daughter the morning after. | 2014-04-25T11:44:37 | 2014-04-25T11:00:46 | 54 | 37 |
[WP] Click 'Random Subreddit' and research the random one you found and write it down, but like a Victorian explorer writing in his journal. | Day 13:
After hacking my way through the dense underbrush of the recently encountered and named "Subscription Jungle" (so named after my beleaguered colleague, Henry S. Subscription, after coming down with a dreadful sickness while venturing inside), I have seemingly stumbled upon a rather large community of artists. My observation are meagre so far but my estimations set their numbers around 10,000 people. I have not yet tried to communicate with them, nor made my presence known. I will have to set camp for the night and observe further before seeing if I can infiltrate the group.
Day 14:
Success! Not only is the population friendly, but they speak English quite well already. Communication has been simple thus far! This is a marvelous discovery as it appears that language may be a shared trait between the other communities in the jungle. I will confirm this with the other expeditionary teams when I return to camp. The crux of this community appears to be artistry in a medium we have yet to discover. Every member of the population seems to have in their possession a small device with a half-eaten fruit on it. I have attached a sketch of the symbol below. The device allows them to communicate with others over great distances! They can convey more information in a matter of seconds than we can in months of letters and books, travelling betwixt here and London. I have asked them to explain the device to me but they look at me most critically, as if their use should be of second-nature to a normal person. Of the people I have met so far, they all have a different picture displayed in the background of their device. I marvel at the level of detail that goes into the display. They see it as a form of individuality in a sea of alike devices. Their art does not seem to have permanence within the group as the individuals change them on a whim to reflect the season or their mood. Again, more research will have to be conducted on the morrow. I am using the light from one of their devices to continue writing, but fear it will run out of fuel soon... whatever it is they use to fuel them.
[The sketch from before](http://wub21cer.files.wordpress.com/2011/08/lee_weblogo_sketch2.jpg)
Day 15:
The day has turned against me. The once-simple lexicon that they were using has now vanished as they attempt to describe the methods to their art. At first, it appeared English but has since devolved into a tongue I cannot speak nor read appropriately enough to report. They speak of code, scrubbers, volume, tweaks and widgets. The words themselves are understandable but the way they place them in their phrases makes no logical sense, yet they understand each other. I have asked them how they are able to make such artwork or what is the first step. The first thing they tell me is : "jail break". I am taken aback as my fears have been realised. It appears this group of artists must be escaped felons and their work must be linked to committing further acts of thievery and injustices. I thanked them for their time and knowledge and have begun to trek back to the main camp. Perhaps when I return, I will bring an outfit of the Queen's Rifles so we can detain these escapees and learn their ways before they can use it upon us. I begin my journey tomorrow at daybreak. I only hope Henry has recovered from his malady and we can be rid of this place before coming across further savages.
*Sub researched: /r/iOSthemes*
Edit: linking the subreddit and spelling |
On the Third of June in the Year of our Lord, Two Thousand and Four-teen, and the third Week into our treacherous March traversing the Land where Winter-never-wanes, our Party rested eyes upon a nest of rotting Long-houses. From the Peak of a sharp hill we drew Plans to safely approach the Ruins whence shouts from an Alter-cation below caught our attention. There, a Figure stood cautious yet assertive in step as it faced Another not 40 steps away with Bow-String drawn. The Feather flew as the words were fired.
"You know nothing Jon Snow!"
/r/thingsjonsnowknows | 2014-06-03T00:10:18 | 2014-06-02T22:52:29 | 102 | 44 |
[WP] There is a woman who is a human 'Phoenix'. She dies in labour and is reborn as her own child. | "I can't believe this is actually happening!" My dull faced husband looked down at me as he hovered over my hospital bed. "I remember when you told me you were infertile..." He paused, looking up and falling deep into thought. Yeah, I remember when I was too.
It's been about three years since I decided to take to alternative measures regarding my infertility. I tried everything I could think of, but the doctors told me it was a lost cause. I had began hearing about a woman who called herself a witch doctor. Apparently she could solve any problem at a cost. A few weeks after the doctors told me that I was 100% infertile, I decided to pay this woman a visit. I had been living in Western Vermont at the time, and this woman lived in the state of Maine, so it was about a 4 hour drive before I finally arrived at her trailer. The area surrounding her trailer could be summed up in two words, trees and mountains. The dirt road out to her little shack was probably a few miles long, and of course when I arrived there was no cell service.
I knocked on her door, but no answer. After knocking another three times finally a small haggard woman opened the door. "Yes dearie?" She peered up at me, one eye glossed over white. "Ma'am I have a problem and I hear you're able to solve any.." I spoke down to her, but in a respectful tone. She interrupted me and snapped "For the right price, anything is possible. Come in."
After discussing many things, she agreed to help me regain my fertility. She was vague about the price, and refused to tell me her name. I was desperate and went ahead and did what she told me. My instructions were to drink some orange liquid that she concocted in her kitchen, then drive back to Vermont, wait three days and wait no longer than seven before mating with someone. So, I did as she said.
Fast forward to the present, and my Husband is still peering off in the distance. He makes a sudden movement and turns around. Standing in the doorway to the hospital room is the woman, she smiles at my husband and walks up to me. He, obviously being confused gave me a look. I never told him about my visit, as I had made up some lie about it. I told him to leave the room.
The old Woman said nothing just smiled and reached into her purse. She pulled out a box of matches, lit one, dropped it on my bed, laughed and left. I went into panic mode, but at the same time began having contractions that locked me to the floor. This was it, everything I went through was for nothing, clearly the price I had to pay was my life. I inhaled a large amount of smoke and passed out.
I saw the old Woman standing in front of me, everything was white, accept for her. She looked at me, and I heard her speak, but her mouth didn't move. "You will always be infertile, but you are now capable of having a child. This child however will be you. I have turned you into a human phoenix. There is no breaking this curse, and when you awake as a child you will have little to no memory of this. By the time you are old enough to realize these memories I will be long gone. I am finally free of the Curse of the Phoenix, thanks to you." I blacked out again.
I sat up on my bed sweating. What a strange dream. I peered down at my rounded over belly and smiled. Once you're born all these hormones will die down and I won't have weird dreams anymore. I moved to the side of my bed, and the faint smell of smoke filled the air. | The same eyes search mine
As I have seen before
The same first steps
She grabs the wall and pulls herself up
Triumphant
(again)
The baby clothes I had preserved
Had I known
I would again be a mother
To my Again daughter
Could
Would I
Have been better prepared?
My chance to do it all
Over
My Again daughter is
My Again rebellious teenager
Sneaking off to be with her boyfriend
Eerily she chooses another
Similar bad boy
Another unplanned pregnancy
Why couldn't
Would I
Have been able to stop her
Again
Again she dies
In labor
Again
and
Again
She is reborn.
The Joy
The pain
Never lessens.
| 2016-01-25T10:33:39 | 2016-01-25T07:47:30 | 22 | 11 |
[WP] It’s the zombie apocalypse except only the senior citizens are infected. With frail joints and no teeth, the general population is merely inconvenienced by rapid grandpas and grandmas trying to gum them to death.
From a post by u/icantseemtopoop in r/CrazyIdeas
edit : Loved all the responses so far, it always amazes me how quickly stories are submitted on WP and in spite of that how well thought-out they are.
If you liked this prompt make sure to upvote u/icantseemtopoop's [post](https://www.reddit.com/r/CrazyIdeas/comments/7wij4m/a_zombie_movie_but_only_the_senior_citizens_are/?ref=share&ref_source=link) because I basically stole his/her idea and turned it into a WP.
edit 2 : rabid not rapid, can't even copy a post properly | Mommy and Daddy left me with Granny.
It was a lot of fun! We drew pictures and ate cookies. My favorite, the kind with the oatmeal and chocolate chips!
Granny put on her old-fashioned record player, and we danced a lot too. Swinging and laughing and singing along to songs I didn’t really know about.
Then we went to the zoo. There were lots of cool animals, didja know gorilla’s sometimes run at the glass and jump at it? It was really scary but grandma just laughed and said he was no scarier than her neighbor’s chihuahua.
I thought the chihuahua was pretty scary though. He was always loud and mean.
When we left the zoo, we saw something really weird though. We passed by the place where Granny plays bingo on Sunday after Church… There were police cars all out in front. Grandma looked really scared. She put her hand on my head and told me to keep down.
I pouted but did what I was told. I heard fireworks!
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Fireworks right there and I missed ‘em!
Granny put me to bed that night. We had to sleep in the “panic room” I don’t know why it’s called that. I like it. There’s my toy box Grandma kept down there and extra clothes and lots of food. There’s also the radio and the extra TV too.
We stayed up late that night. Granny was watching the news, she looked really scared. I didn’t really understand what it was saying.
Something about a disease.
A really bad disease.
“Am I gonna get sick?”
“No lovebug, ol’Granny’s not gonna let you get sick.”
Mommy and Daddy got me in the morning. Granny came with us, packing up all kinds of stuff. Even Grandpa’s picture from her dresser! Grandpa died last year.
It was really sad. Granny cried a lot. But she was better then.
At least we thought she was.
There were more fireworks, but they wouldn’t let me see!
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Lots and lots of fireworks!
“Oh no… Carl too?” Granny whispered.
“Whose Carl?”
“An old friend… Looks like he’s sick…”
“Mom, are you sure you alright?”
“I’m positive Hannah. I kept Josie safe during all that yesterday.”
I was really sleepy from the drive though. I don’t remember much else.
I remember feeling the car shake.
I remember hearing someone scream.
I remember flying through the air…
And I remember how much my back hurt when I fell again. When, I woke up… It was really bad. The car was ruined.
I couldn’t see Mommy and Daddy. Just… Burned things where they were. Where was Granny?
“Granny? Granny where are you?” I yelled looking around. The street had a lot of cars tipped over or burned. This didn’t look right.
There were people in the street, but they weren’t moving.
“Granny?” My voice got all squeaky - like it did when I cried. “Granny? I’m scared! I wanna go back to your house!”
I heard something behind me… From the car. I looked behind me… Oh I never felt so happy.
Granny was pulling herself out of the car as busted up as it was. She was hurt but she looked okay…
She looked funny though. Not a haha funny.
Her skin was all Grey. Her eyes were all dull looking. She was holding her backpack and mine. She moved slowly to me and put it on me.
She was so quiet. Usually she’d be all worried and stuff.
“Granny?”
She took my hand, it was really cold. She started to lead me away, off of the street and into the field that lead into the forest.
She only said one thing.
“Granny, love Josie.”
“I love you too Granny.”
Granny wasn’t the same after that. We heard fireworks a lot from where we camped out. She’d sometimes disappear for a while and come back, her mouth covered in red paint. She’d bring me back berries, or she’d catch something and cook it up for me.
She never let me see what it used to be. I know it was goat though. The goat farmer was like Granny. All grey and pale. All cold and dull eyed.
I don’t know what’ll happen. But at least I have Granny!
| They all sat in the waiting room of a large warehouse. The invitations were exclusive and only by word of mouth. The speaker had set up a podium where the reception desk would have been. He addressed his audience familiarly.
He made eye contact with a woman in the first row and asked, “Shirley, how is your practice holding up?”
With tears in her eyes she responded, “I'm ruined. My core demographic no longer require dentures and bridges. I have only a sprinkling of clients.”
The speaker nodded empathetically. He spoke to a man in the third row, “Jimmy. How are you doing?”
Jimmy said, “My high tech prosthetic company is floundering. I invested my entire life into it. I am going to be a beggar soon.”
The speaker spoke to a man in the second row, “Bobby, how about you?”
Bobby said, “My geriatric rehabilitation practice is in the dirt. Looking around, we're all in the same boat. I don't know what to do.”
The speaker said, “Everyone follow me.”
The guests arose and followed him through a steel door into the main hold of the warehouse. There were hundreds of gurneys onto which were strapped writhing zombies held as hostages.
He spoke to the disgusted and astonished group of desperate experts. “If we combine our talents, we can create an army to do our bidding ...”
| 2018-02-10T10:22:45 | 2018-02-10T09:01:25 | 63 | 15 |
[WP] In 1644 you signed your soul away to the devil for immortality. No aging, no sickness, no injuries, no death! Now in 2016 you decide you want to end your contract, but when you call the devil to discuss it, he doesn't remember you. | It seemed like a good idea at the time... What with all the plagues, and wars, and doomsday prophecies around. So when Satan himself, Big D., as he is called down under, contacted you with a deal, you took it without much hesitation. However, now it is becoming tedious.
So, here you are now, walked through the 11 circles of hell... There were only 9 back in your days, but apparently they needed to expand the operation over the centuries. After a lengthy screenig process to make sure no one brings any holy relics, divine weapons, or peanuts into his office, you entered the office of the literal incarnation of evil. It has... changed over the years... Last time you were here, it was all fire, and spikes, and screaming souls damned for all eternity. Now it is more like.. A quite pleasant office, actually... Sure, there is still the black, and red, and fire, and torture style everywhere, but it is much more refined.
At the large, heavy desk, sits a lone figure, checking over some documents, shoving some into the incinerator, and others in folders after signing them. He looks up as you approach him. Although he looks much like the hordes of demons you have seen so far, reddish skin, fiery eyes, smells of brimstone, this one seems to exude an aura of authority.
"Ah, good day, good day. Have a seat, mister..."
"Anzac.", you finish him after his brief pause.
"Ah, yes, yes. What brings you to hell this fine day, mister Anzac?"
"Well, there was this deal we made in 1660s or so... Well, I want to negotiate a reverse deal of some sort. My immortality for my soul, preferably."
"....Yes, yes, of course.... remind me, where did we make that deal?" ....He looks a bit off-balance all of a sudden.
"A small church in modern day Germany."
"Of course, I remember now. You were originally called, Hans Fritz, yes?"
".....No. Karl Sturm."
"The one from Pferdweiner, yes?"
"..........No. The one from Morgenholz."
"Ah, yes..."
"You do not remember, do you?"
".....Do you still have your copy of the contract?"
"It got misplaced during the Great War..."
"Well, that is an issue... Alright, to the Archive of Contracts then!"
In a puff of smoke, the two of you disappear from the office. After a brief darkness, you see... more darkness. At Big D.'s command, torches and braziers light up, illuminating row upon row of stacked scrolls of varying designs, sizes, and most likely, ages.
"It should be between lane 1660 and 1670."
"Just so?"
"You can't run Hell without proper administration skills. Come on, we do not have all eternity."
"We are here now *exactly* because I have all eternity."
After several hours of searching, dozens and dozens of racks, several accidentally destroyed contracts, and one virgin goat sacrificed to divine the direction of the target, the two of you arrive at rack 1644/E/16.
"Here we are. It should be right hee.... "
"What?"
"It is not here... "
"What do you mean 'It is not here?!'. You are the devil and you lost my contract?!"
"So did you. Don't get all high and mighty on me. I had wars to fight and... wait... wars... Those accursed feathery lapdogs stole my contracts!"
"....'Feathery Lapdogs'? ...Surely you do not mean..."
"Pack up, Karl, we are going to heaven!" | "Soul Department, this is Amy speaking, how may I help you?"
"Uhh, hello Amy, this is John Hamilton. I bought eternal life from the devil, but I, uh, would like to get a refund please."
" Ok John, if you could just hold for a moment please... ok, John what did you say your last name was? Hamilton? I'm not seeing you in the system sir. Could you tell me when you made the exchange?"
"I signed over my soul in, oh, 1644? '45? Sometime around then."
"Ok thank you... that's probably the problem. You see, we've gone through several filing process changes over the centuries. You're purchase isn't coming up in our system, so I will have to transfer you over to the Lost Claims Department. Hold please." | 2016-10-08T03:23:20 | 2016-10-08T01:16:07 | 163 | 91 |
[WP] An Alien must explain to a Human that Earth is not a paradise for life, it is the most horrific Death World ever discovered. | !xreent looked at John with true desperation in their features.
"You can't go back to Earth! It's too dangerous!"
John looked down at the alien child. !xreent was an insectoid being that vaguely resembled a 3-foot-tall praying mantis with an extra set of articulated eyes and antennae. John looked behind them to two of their progenitors, Mkulka and !xreek, who stood tall enough for John to look them in the eyes. Concern was visible in the way that they held themselves, as well.
John answered !xreent's plea calmly, kneeling to look them in the eyes. "It's my home. It's where I feel safe. I'll be fine."
"How can you be safe when it's where bears live!?"
John chuckled. !xreent had gotten curious and looked up a couple things on his tablet before he'd been able to stop them. "Don't worry, I don't live anywhere near the bears. Besides, there's plenty more dangerous things on Earth than some bear."
!xreent broke down in the equivalent of hysterical tears and had to be lead away by !xreek to be soothed, but not before !xreek sent an exasperated and frustrated look at John. Mkulka gave the equivalent of a sigh and addressed John. "That may not have been the right thing to say."
John stood up, rubbing the back of his neck. "You're probably right. I didn't think how that could scare them more."
Mkulka hesitated, then said, "You know, you really don't have to go back. !xreent's fears aren't unfounded, Earth is hellish."
John tilted his head. "What do you mean?"
Mkulka spread his upper arms expressively. "Earth is the most deadly, dangerous place to house life ever discovered. Aside from all of the problems that your fellow humans can and do present, there's constant natural disasters, chimeric seasons, hypercompetitive evolution pressures, and an explosive atmosphere. Death is a fact of life on Earth, and you seem to take it for granted."
John absentmindedly touched the clear oxygen respirator on his face, reminded how he needed a wildly different atmospheric content than his shipmates. Mkulka reached forward and put an appendage on John's shoulder, evidently trying to evoke a sense of seriousness.
Mkulka continued. "John, you don't have to live in constant danger. You can live here, on the ship. I know your contract is up, but we can draw up a new one, if you need. Or we can drop you off on any other world, where animals are under control and storms don't threaten life."
John thought about it. He'd seen the way that life grew on other planets. Forests rarely were very diverse, and didn't often grow more than twice his height at the tallest. Storms and rain never blocked out the home star's light for more than an hour or two, and rarely produced enough wind to stir the branches of plants. He stepped to the side, pivoting and bringing out tablet, angled to show its screen to Mkulka. He brought up views of the forests of Earth, of mountains and storms and waves. Mkulka shuddered. John spoke carefully.
"Look, I know this scares you. You see danger and death in every image. But you have to admit, it's at least aesthetically beautiful."
Mkulka nodded reluctantly, and John put the tablet away, facing Mkulka squarely. He continued. "You're absolutely right. Death is a fact of life on Earth. But it's also a fact of life in general. Life cannot develop without challenge, and death makes room for and feeds those that succeed. Death's presence is strong on my home planet, it's true, but it's only because of that that Life's presence can be so strong also. Do you get what I mean?"
Mkulka made an uncertain gesture "Not really."
John shook his head ruefully. "That's ok. Suffice to say, I'd get bored fast anywhere else. Homesick, too."
Mkulka made his own rueful gesture. "How anyone gets homesick for a Deathworld, I doubt I'll ever understand. But the decision is yours. What do I tell !xreent, though?"
John smiled. "Tell them that Earth is where I'm happy, even if it's where bears live." | warning: swearing at the end
"Listen, Jerry, I'm telling you this place is horrible mate, you have to believe me!"
"Nah, dude everything is perfect here what are you even talking about, Larry?"
"Can't you taste it? The chemical flavor, the noxious poisons everywhere created by your vicious plants? What about the smell? I'm sorry to tell you this mate, but this planet smells like what our bathrooms smell like. I don't know how you can stand it!"
"Huh? Your bathrooms smell like this? I don't know how I feel about your bowel movements now, but I still love Earth!"
"Dude don't even start. And the animals?! You REALLY think there's things like sharks ANYWHERE else? We actually made those and we're pretty proud, but WHY ARE YOU PEOPLE ALWAYS SWIMMING WITH THEM??? Don't you understand what they were made for?!?"
"Eh they aren't so bad. It's their ocean, we just visit. Gotta respect nature, mate"
"Dude NOTHING THERE IS NATURAL. That's what I'm trying to tell you: we. made. it. all. As a joke. We show our kids holograms of it to make sure they brush their mandibles. You guys are actually the main villains, the 'devils' if you will"
"NAAARRR fuck you Larry, I'm not having that! My species is fucking great mate! Go ahead and tell me ONE BAD THING ABOUT... Oh." | 2022-12-08T05:49:39 | 2022-12-07T21:56:40 | 140 | 74 |
[WP] Mankind has never achieved first contact: Aliens flee on sight; Even their planets are left behind. One day, misfortune brings opportunity: an alien ship with a crew can't make the jump.
So, my first WP. I would love to see which direction you'll take it. I'll read all replies and should you wish so, provide feedback. | *Jim, and his pal, Phil, are taking a road trip across the galaxy. They haven't been speaking to each other for quite some time now. Phil breaks the silence.*
Phil: Look, I'm sorry.
Jim: I can't believe you didn't get fuel. We're going to run into them, you know.
Phil: Look, no-one has had to deal with the humans yet, why should it be us?
Jim: That's a pretty weak line of reasoning, and you know it.
*A warning light appears on the dashboard. A message appears: 'Unknown Galactic Address Attempting Contact.'*
Jim: Ah, shit.
Phil: Is that-
Jim: Yep.
Phil: Should we-
Jim: We can't run now. Let's just confront this and get it over with.
Phil: But-
Jim: Look, someone has to do this eventually. It sucks that it's going to be us, but, you know, of anyone that's had to do this, we're among the most well-equipped of our entire race - of the entire galaxy - to deal with first contact with the humans.
Phil: Ok, Jim, I know you have a pretty high opinion of yourself, but-
*The ship, while they were talking, docked alongside theirs. A door opens on the ship, and a tall human man in a spacesuit walks into the cabin. The man's name is Abraham. He has a rapturous look in his eyes as he sees Phil's and Jim's green skin.*
A: My god! Is it... I can't believe...
*Phil and Jim both breath out a synchronous annoyed sigh.*
Jim (directed at both Phil and Abraham) : Well, thanks a lot, assholes.
*Abraham is stunned in confusion.*
Phil: Hope you got a few months to spare... what's your name?
Abraham (recovering, his arm extended): Pleased to meet you, noble emissaries! My name is Abraham.
*Phil reaches into a file cabinet to his right side and pulls out a gigantic pile of folders, shoving it into Abraham's arms.*
Abraham (confused): What's this?
Jim (pouring himself a large drink from a hidden cabinet): Well, since we're the first people registered in the Galactic Federation to run into 'humans', and you're the first person of your species to find us, we, including you, are directly responsible for processing your entire god-damn species into the Galactic Registry.
Abraham: Wait... a federation? There's more of you? But, everywhere we go, every planet that we run into, me and my colleagues have seen nothing but the former husks of-
Phil (interrupting): Yeah, that's because the forms are such a *bitch*. No-one wants to do them.
*Abraham is still confused. Jim offers him the drink that he was nursing, and starts pouring himself another while he explains.*
Jim: Because your species wants *so fucking bad* to explore the rest of the known universe and yada yada yada, someone needs to make sure that the rest of the Federation knows humanity's general history, biology, psychology, current understanding of natural phenomena, etcetera. We want to make sure that we can nuke away any species that seem dangerous as soon as possible-
*Abraham starts, startled at the implication.*
Jim: Don't worry, don't worry, the Federation just wants to make sure you're not all psychopaths. We've been doing this for a few millenia now, and we've only had to do it... twice, right Phil?
Phil (already starting on the forms): Just once. I think it was the Saiyans.
Jim: Oof, those guys were scary. Warrior race, delusions of grandeur, it was a whole thing. They were just about to figure out how to channel... I'm getting off-track. So, it's policy for any individual citizen to process new species on first contact. It takes most people at least 6 months to do them. People don't casually have six months to drop, so most just run away whenever they hear about a new species that's just starting to explore the galaxy. Usually, you guys don't explore around for more than a couple months, so people just wait it out off-planet until you all leave.
Abraham (hesitating): And... what if there was someone that was actually dangerous? If people are running away, wouldn't that... I don't know, just give them more time to develop their lethal capabilities?
Phil (throwing his arms up in the air in exasperation): That's what I'm saying, right? Goddamn Transgalactic Service Administration, bureaucrats with heads so far up their own ass-
Abraham: Wait, you're government is called the TSA?
Jim: Yeah, why?
Abraham (shaking his head): The more things change...
*Abraham starts working on his share of the forms. One small step for man, one smaller leap for bureaucracy.*
| "Sir, Lieutenant Fullerton reporting as ordered."
"At ease. Sit." Captain Henshaw said, gesturing to the chair opposite him.
"Lieutenant, I know you've filled out your incident report, but I need to hear it from you. Everything that happened. You have permission to speak freely.
"And what about him, sir?" Fullerton said, nodding towards the the civilian-attired figure standing in the corner.
"I think you can guess why he is here."
Lieutenant Fullerton nodded.
"We entered Xeros VI around 16:15 GST. The planet had already been evacuated. When we arrived, their ships were already jumping, except for one. My science officer said that their warp-fusion matrix had gone faulty."
"Go on."
"They maneuvered as best they could with their sub-light drives. I coordinated with the gunships *Tallahassee* and *Rome* to trap him in the asteroid belt around the moon. I tasked Sergeant Bishop with leading the boarding party. At 17:30 the landing shuttle initiated breach."
"And?"
"The Xarthid crew members were all dead. Self-inflicted. We captured the captain as he was trying to scuttle the ship."
"Thank you Lieutenant. We'll call you if you're needed."
"Yes sir." He said, snapping a salute.
Captain Henshaw watched silently as Lieutenant Fullerton left the room. He let out a sigh and was rubbing his eyes when his personal communicator chirped. He answered, and listened in silence for a long moment, before saying "Understood" and hanging up. He swiveled to face the silent man in the corner
"That Xarthid Captain we captured just committed suicide. Snapped off one of his incisors with his bare hands and slit his throat with it."
The silent man nodded, a contemplative look on his face. Henshaw continued.
"They've run at every contact, and kill themselves when captured. What does it mean?"
"It means they're deathly afraid of us, and we haven't the slightest clue why."
| 2015-03-15T00:29:36 | 2015-03-14T20:54:04 | 32 | 13 |
[WP] When people turn 18, they gain the power to summon 1 random thing in the world to their hand, as Thor does to Mjolnir. Summoned people are considered soulmates, and objects as important parts of one's life. When you summon yours, it takes some time, but people are horrified when it arrives... | Lariam's family made a big event out of it, and he couldn't be more excited.
It happened like this every time his older brothers or cousins hit the right age; his parents, uncles and grandparents would all get together in the house of the new adult, and spend the day eating and chatting, a great occasion for family bonding. They liked to start early, but none had been out and about earlier than Lauriam himself.
"Don't be rude, wait for everyone!" His mom had scolded him when she caught Lauriam trying to sneak to the yard with his hands above his head. "This will only happen once, everyone will want to see!"
"Urghhhh, fine, but not at evening! As soon as everyone has had lunch I'm coming out here and doing it!" Lauriam had said. He just HAD to know.
And now the time had come. With his whole family lounging around, Lauriam extended shaky hands and closed his eyes, taking deep breaths, and let nature take its course. Seconds passed. Almost a full minute. Lauriam's throat was suddenly growing dry until he felt a slight tug at his finger tips, and at the very edge of hearing, he heard it approaching.
The sound of heavy hooves.
"It's coming!" He said with a big smile on his face. Everyone else fell silent and leaned forward in expectation. From the woods in the back of the house they also heard the sound, and saw the shape. Hopeful smiles turned into confusion and then tense silence as the figure walked out of the woods.
The coat was a lustrous, shiny, incredibly dark purple with wisps of dark ethereal smoke coming from every bend and knot. The mane was glossy, shiny gray, like polished metal, and so were its tail and the hooves.
But not the horn.
The horn was completely and utterly dark, without a hint of light aside from the glossy contour of its shape. The darkness seemed to have been twisted into a long spiral, protruding from the unicorn's head with terrifying majesty. As the creature approached, eyeing Lauriam, they could see its eyes as well: burning, intense and bloodshot scarlet with dark pins at the middle. They shot back and forth, right to left at every single person present. The horn of the black unicorn crackled like a coffin being nailed shut, and Lauriam's family was compelled to step back by an unseen strength that chilled them to the bone. But not Lauriam himself.
"Black plague..."
"Omen of Disasters..."
"Corruption in the flesh...Oh, Lauriam, no..."
His voice had died in his throat; so stunned Lauriam was that he couldn't even make out who was saying what behind him. As the unicorn reached the boy, Lauriam realized how enormous the creature was; he barely reached its chest. The unicorn lowered its head to look at Lauriam in the eye, its horn mere inches away from himself. His hands were still outstretched, frozen in place and fear.
And then the unicorn pressed its head against Lauriam's palm. He felt the touch of the creature burn and send unpleasant tingles all the way up to his chest, but also the tension of the unicorn's muscles slowly loosen under his touch, as if it had not had a touch as tender ever in its life. In the horn of the unicorn a gleam of light appeared and then was suddenly devoured by the darkness once more. Lauriam felt the shivers on the creature as it happened. Under its hooves, he could see the grass slowly drying.
"What happened to you?" Lauriam asked after a long time. He carefully ran his hands through the unicorn's mane, and particles of dark energy disintegrated in the air, but not nearly enough. Instead, the skin in Lauriam's hand bubbled and burned, peeling off. The unicorn opened its eyes and looked at Lauriam again, wordlessly pleading for help. As his family came back to their senses and suddenly started screaming for him to get away from the unicorn, Lauriam just wondered how he could ever find a way to truly heal the creature before the the affliction could destroy both. | I looked at the clock, stated at the clock. Time was never really a concern of mine but I can't help it. After all, in 5 minutes, I was about to have my most wanted item.
I got to distract myself from all the nerves. I looked out the window, attracted by the city lights. City lights always calmed me.
Nerves settled. I looked back at the clock. 2 minutes to go. I begun to wonder what is my greatest desire? I never cared for much after all. I have no family, no friends. Drifting from place to place, I have no purpose in life. Clearly, I was not going to get anything.
I smiled wryly. This is going to be anti-climatic. 5...4...3...2...1.
And the last thing I heard was the clock striking 12 midnight once.
=====
The city lights began to flicker out as a spreading Void expanded from the apartment. Nothing could stop it. Horrified screaming turned into nothing as the Void consumes all.
The desire to void existence made manifest.
And the rest is Silence. | 2019-09-18T10:20:19 | 2019-09-18T09:39:58 | 54 | 12 |
[WP] You won't hold heroes hostages to torture them. You won't throw a hero against a wall once you have them by the neck. You sure won't start monologuing if you have a hero at gunpoint. You're the deadliest villain in history. A villian without an ego..
[removed] | You know, there's often a saying in the military. There are bold soldiers, there are old soldiers. There are no old, bold soldiers. It's the same for us villains. The ones who last long are the ones who never make flashy moves. If your plan is going well, don't brag about it. If you have the upper hand, ball it into a fist and smash your opponent's head in. I don't believe in a god, but I think the Christians were right about not putting deities to the test if you do believe in one. Me, I just call it not tempting fate.
I do not play dice with my life.
Tonight, I was breaking that rule. The one rule I had as a villain. \*Don't be stupid.\*
But she needed to know. It was the one last thing I had to do before I retired. I walked into her room, waved in by the nurse. I took her out of her chair and headed for the rooftop. It was a little ritual we did, during my visits. I'd wheel her out of her room and to the rooftop garden of the hospital. There, a few of her colleagues waited. One final send off for the best of them.
She'd been the heart of the team, the moral compass. The one who never cowed from doing the right thing, even when the odds were against them, even when they lost a member of the team, and it was tempting to exact vengeance. She always insisted on taking the just, noble way. \*"If we can't be the best of humanity, what good are we as heroes?" She'd ask, frustrated at trying to convince one of them not to do something stupid, often in our own living room.
It was a huge morale blow when they found her tumour. Pressing on her spine, it was inoperable and it'd take away her functions one by one. She'd always been a free spirit, and this was not how she'd wanted to go - wasting away in a hospital bed. So, the doctors agreed to look the other way as I brought a lethal dose of morphine to the roof with her. One last act of gratitude for the hero that defined the generation.
The hospital staff agreed to give us some privacy as her friends sent her off. The roof was empty. I wheeled her out to her favourite spot, watching the sunrise, and where I'd laid the corpses of her team out, side by side. The horror in her eyes was palpable as she realized who I truly was in that moment. The expertise and precision with which I'd taken out each of her colleagues only pointed at one thing.
"It's me," I whisper in her ear as I adjust her morphine pump and punch in the code that'd disable the limiter, letting me give administer a lethal dose. I put the syringe in and close the pump case, letting it do its work. I drop two articles in her lap. The first, from the night we met - the day she'd convinced me not to jump, after I lost my remaining family. The second, an article covering her brother's attack on my brother's convoy.
He'd been simply doing his job, hired by some rich supervillain to escort him out and deal with any heroes that arrived. Her brother never did have her restraint. He blew up the convoy and injured some civilians who were simply on the road at the wrong time. But hey, he got the bad guy so everyone looked the other way.
I didn't.
I kiss her on the lips. "I really do love you, you know," I say as I sit beside her. "You could have let me jump after I killed your brother, but you convinced me life was worth living. You made sure I got help, and got better. You mourned with me after you talked me down even though I'd just killed him hours before. It's why I waited so long to tell you, and to finish the job I started years ago."
Her breathing slowed. "I didn't want to do this, but I couldn't bear watching you suffer. Rest now, my love." My vengeance against her comrades was complete, and she knew the truth even as she passed on from her pitiful, hollow existence. My victory was final, but it felt hollow.
I got up, and made one last call. "It's done," I inform the cabal. "They're all dead."
"Good," the mechanical, digitally masked voice replied. "We have a job for you-"
"It can wait until after the funeral." I hang up, and sit down and watch one last sunrise with her. | Red.
​
All I have been seeing is Red. The seething hatred which is now my soul. I don't know where it came from but I wouldn't be bothered. All I knew was these fuckers had to pay.
It could've been stopped if the Hero was dead. But the villain just HAD to say something. He told how his plan was fool-proof, and how he was gonna make the Hero suffer. All the while my Ana was disgruntled. I tried to look at her face, ignoring her severed legs and her guts which spilled over the floor. She was still alive, but in pain. Too much pain.
She looked at villain and mouthed the words which still haunt me.
"Kill me"
The Villain went on and on how about he has Hero in his fingers, and marveling at his stupidity.
"Kill me" She mouths in vain. I can't bare it no more.
​
Something snapped. And all I saw was Red. I stood up, picked her head up. She looked at me terrified and confused, but her face shone with acceptance and happiness. She smiled at me. I twisted her neck with a loud snap.
I went for the villain next. Ripped out his throat. I ripped out the Hero's throat too.
Speak now, you fuckers. Play your sick twisted games, with disregard for lives around you. I want to hear your chatter, your reckless, witty banter.
More importantly, I want to hear them stop.
And make them stop I will. | 2019-08-06T21:27:26 | 2019-08-06T21:26:45 | 63 | 26 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell, we're the demons, and you've just been summoned. | "Look man, I don't think you know what you're doing. There's gonna be some serious repercussions for this kind of shit," Tom said as he leaned back in his chair, glowering at a sweaty, porcine man across the table from him.
"I've got to fucking do it, Tom," Greg whimpered out, his lower lip quivering ever so slightly. He held out a closed fist, opened it, and a handful of dice scattered across the table. It was almost like a movie, eyes all fixated on the d20 as it clattered to a stop. A natural 20. The crowd went wild and Tom launched out of his chair, hands pressed to his temples in a gesture of supreme existential horror. Once the din of the table died down, Tom finally unfroze from his statuesque position and slumped back into his chair.
"... No." Greg's face scrunched up into a pout.
"C'mon man, it was a natural 20! I seduced the Lich!"
"No, dude. I'm sick of you constantly fucking up my plans with your bullshit amazing luck. I would rather DIE than see you do what you're doing."
Just as Greg was about to retort, a crack of lightning shook the room around them and Tom exploded in a gout of black smoke. As the rest of the table did a quick check of the contents of their britches, Greg stammered out the one thing he could think to say: "Did he just straight up fucking explode?!"
Unfortunately for Tom, he did not in fact "straight up fucking explode." The next thing he knew, he was falling flat on his ass against a hard stone floor. If Tom, let alone any human being ever, had actually been subject to a demon summoning ritual as he just had, he would know the typical signs and symptoms: candles, maybe a candelabra if his host was fancy, salt circles, and some adorable little munchkin-type people in robes who had just summoned a hellbeast of unimaginable power. As one could expect, Tom was reasonably alarmed and upset. He scrambled back against the wall, knocking over many a tiny chair and smashing a table or two with accidental ease.
"What the fuck just happened?!" The summoners, witnessing the wrath of a dark lord, began to scream. Only one of them did not panic. The short little wrinkled creature gazed solemnly upon him, an open book cradled in one hand. Tom's mouth went slack and eyes wide when he truly perceived the creature's face.
"Oh my god... you've got an adorable little pug face!" he practically squealed. While Tom immediately regretted his reaction, it was no less true. Every single one of them was an adorable little bipedal pug person. In a little hooded robe. One of them even has a cute little walking stick!
"Thomas Kinsey!" the tiny creature belted out in a somewhat squeaky voice, pointing at a bewildered Tom. "By your true name, I bind you to my will!"
"I... I'm sorry, what?" Tom inquired, squinting incredulously. "Bind me? Like I'm some kind of demon or something?" All those years of D&D were finally paying dividends. This seemed to throw the wee sage off balance, now wide-eyed and flipping through the book as quickly as he could, one of his compatriots clinging to his arm and babbling nigh incomprehensibly.
"I told you we shouldn't have mettled with the dark arts! He's going to fry us in sulfur pits and strip the meat from our bones!" Tom couldn't help but look fairly disgusted.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, what are you on about? I don't even know why I'm here. Or where here even is. Who ARE you?"
The leader of this ragamuffin group stepped forward, looking wary but less terrified of their guest at this point.
"I am Gynklef, my Lord," he said with a proper bow. "We have summoned you here to strike a dark bargain, if you would hear our terms." Tom, once again, glanced at the figure incredulously. This has got to be a dream. Or a stroke. It can't be reality, at the very least.
"... oooookay. Uh... what are your terms?" He crossed his arms over his chest, still fairly unsure of what was actually happening. Maybe he was dead and this was some crazy little fantasy in his head as the last of his neurons sputtered out. An aneurysm would make sense.
"We bring you precious stones and gems to curry favor, in hopes that you will help my people overthrow the cruel oppressors that so long ago usurped the throne from my father's father..." With a gesture, one of the other pug-monks pushed a battered chest up to the periphery of the circle and opened it, revealing a pile of gold nuggets and raw, uncut gems.
"We know your kind has a penchant for that which shines and lies within the earth. It is yours, if you will help us." Tom stood agog, staring at the chest. He'd be set for life if he could take that back with him. There was an emerald as big as his fist just sitting there! He shook himself from his stupor and sighed.
"I mean... what can I do? I'm just one guy," he muttered, scuffing the heel of a shoe against the grimy stone floor.
"Perhaps... but one of your kind is required to operate... THE ARTIFACT." Hushed whispers among the congregation could be heard. Tom arched a single brow.
"The artifact? What is it?"
"An item of incredible power... it has brought down kingdoms before, broken the wills of those who would seek to stand against it, and brought terror to those who even hear its name." The tiny figure gestured to one of his compatriots.
"Bring it here, quickly!"
After a lengthy pause, the sound of wagon wheels could be heard against the floor, and through the door entered what almost appeared to be an upright and ornately decorated coffin on wheels. Grynklef drew an ancient looking key, inset with bone, and released the locks.
"Behold! Terrorscream, Render of Kingdoms!" he bellowed (as well as someone with his lung capacity could) as he flung the door open, revealing...
"... a fucking vacuum," Tom stated flatly. Grynklef nodded solemnly.
"It is a weapon we do not use lightly, but... times are desperate. More of my people die by the day." Tom nodded solemnly for a moment, and stepped from the circle, brushing a hand across the handle of this vacuum that looked like it belonged in the Warhammer universe.
"Okay, little dog dudes... let's topple a kingdom." | I hate this job.
Two thankless years pandering to the whims of a boss who still can't remember my name and calls me Jimmy. My name is Jonathan. It's Jonathan!
But I'm spineless. I can't face up to his authoritative and domineering personality and honestly, he plain scares the shit out of me.
I'm so done with this job... done, done, do....
Fuck! My eyes sear with pain abruptly. I can't see anything bar a blinding light. A feeling of weightlessness washes over my body and I hit the ground. It wasn't cheap carpet like I'd expect falling off of my chair at work.
It was stone. Cold, hard, unforgiving stone and it felt like my bones disintegrated against it. This sort of thing isn't normal... Am I having a stroke? Am I dying?
I open my eyes and my blurred vision clears. Two large eyes stare back. Big round poppy eyes that appear elated.
"Brungus, I think we're nearly there!" says the round face staring down at me.
The roof is wooden and it looks like it's lit by an open fire somewhere.
"What do you mean nearly? How did we scrump this up again? I followed the formula in the book to the very letter!"
There's moss growing on the stony walls, a musty smell like mould bombards my nostrils.
"Come have a look for yourself!"
Why are they gawking at me? What's so damn interesting? Another pair of poppy eyes look over me. Why can't I move? Who the hell are these fuckin' freaks?
"Whpflups gwun ennnn? Pflteehh eemmm ehhh?" I can't talk. Nothing but a flatulent noise erupts from my mouth as I try.
"Hmm, he's trying to speak, ugly-looking thing." His eyes look concerned yet irritated.
I try to call for help.
"Pflpelp plmeee, plfpleeees."
A harsh voice barks back, "Shut up will you! You disgust me!"
"PflpOK." I stop trying to ask for help.
"You know, when we swiped this Tome of Demonology from the headmaster's personal library, I never would have thought summoning a denizen of hell to be quite so recalcitrant."
My heart is palpitating and I have that low blood pressure feeling, like when you get up too fast except, I'm not getting up. I'm stuck here on the stone floor listening to a pair of bug-eyed weirdos chat about who the fuck knows what.
"This... this one's, even more stomach wrenching than our last one... Send it back."
"Send it back? But this one could put us on the map Brungus!"
"Send it Back!"
I hear a humming and a muttering from one of the freaks. Light flashes in my eyes again and I feel like I'm falling. Suddenly I hit the ground and this time it feels like cheap carpet which brings some small comfort, I'm home.
A shrill scream punctures my ears.
It's Tracy from accounting and it sounds like she's seen something awful. I realise that I still can't move. I look upwards and see Mark from the cubicle across as he starts to dry retch.
"Somebody call an ambulance!"
"What the fuck is an ambulance going to do for him?"
"Just get help!!"
My body is completely without bones and I have the outward appearance of a dying jellyfish on a sea-shore.
My boss walks into my cubicle and berates me for taking a coffee break without asking and I apologize with a "pflthorry bothh".
I sigh internally. Spineless.
| 2017-05-12T13:13:55 | 2017-05-12T11:17:02 | 37 | 10 |
[WP] Aliens try to invade earth but they can't bring themselves to do it because humans are too cute to them | The first time Ravick the Ravisher stepped onto the green pebble, he knew that conquest would be easy. This would be nothing like the molten planet of Xera-2 where his soldiers had sunken beneath the ground only to be swallowed by fire. This planet, if it could even be classified as such, had a nitrogen rich atmosphere though most its inhabitants used oxygen. Because of this, life on this planet had never evolved to fully utilize its atmosphere.
He stepped through the wheat fields toward a red barn that housed the nearest form of intelligent life, if they could even be classified as such. They were still so primitive that they used words, scratching symbols into thin pieces of wood and smacking their lips together to communicate.
“Human,” his voice boomed louder than this planet’s thunderclaps. “Bow your head as your new God has arrived. I am Ravick the Ravisher, Conqueror of Galaxies, Destroyer of Stars. Resist and I will obliterate your planet with a single command.”
The human scurried through his wooden habitat and swung the front door open. “What in tarnation.”
Its jaw dropped and eye widened. The straw thing on his head fell as well as the one he had been chewing inside his mouth. Ravick’s jaw also fell. He had never seen such a pitiful and disgusting creature. Its limbs were sticks, disproportionate to its body, like The Creator had made its body and then ran out of matter to make the rest of it. Two front teeth protruded from its mouth as if The Creator had accidentally made one of its breathing holes too small. Surely, this could be the ugliest thing in the universe.
“Oh my Jesus,” the human jumped. “It’s an alien! My Uncle Richard warned me about you aliens. Said you probed him real good.”
“Uncle Richard?” Ravick muttered and then shook his head, clearing his thoughts regarding this pitiful thing. “Submit human or meet your demise!”
The human pressed its lips together and took a deep breath. “You landed in the wrong place, alien. This is America and we don’t buy down to no man. Much less some godless alien like yourself.”
The Conqueror of Galaxies furrowed his brow. “But I will destroy your planet.”
“Not if I shoot you dead!” The human reached behind the doorframe and pulled out a shotgun. He took aim and pulled the trigger.
A thousand metal pellets erupted from the weapon in a small explosion. They launched themselves into Ravick before bouncing off his armor and even his skin. He picked one up from the ground to inspect it. These humans were still slinging rocks to wage war!
“You like that, you foreigner!” the human screamed, reloading his fancy rock slinger. “First we got them illegals, now them aliens. All of you godless heathens!”
“Human, do you not understand your own predicament? Am I not communicating to you effectively?”
“You don’t understand your own predica-thing, ya green-skinned freak. Now you best get off my field before I put another buckshot into your ass.”
Ravick scratched the back of his head. “You can sling however many stones you wish, but it’s your planet at stake. The entirety of it. Don’t you wish to negotiate?”
“Americans don’t negotiate with no terrorists. I reckon the same applies to you aliens.” He finished reloading and raised up his rock slinger, his eyes narrowed and mouth scrunched.
Ravick could no longer deny it—they were adorable. They were the galaxy pugs, hideously malformed, quick to bark, and would sooner trip over themselves in a fight than cause any real damage. No being could have the heart so slay such creatures. He began retreating.
“Yeah, that’s right! Go back to your own planet, alien! Tell your friends about us too. America ain’t easy to mess with!” the human shouted after him. He whooped in the air, jumping for joy as if he had actually defeated the Destroyer of Stars.
“Oh my Creator,” Ravick muttered. It was too cute.
---
---
/r/jraywang
| Star log FO3-THETA
We have discovered a new solar system:
Habitable planets - 3
Habited planets - 1
Sentient life forms - >1,000,000,000; awaiting more precise information
Life form name - Earthling
Receiving transmission from away team 304:
Description of life form - AWWWWWWWWWWWWWW.
They are SO, FUCKING, CUTE. Sorry, sorry. I shall try and keep my composure. They have these cute wittle extensions they call legs, but they are nothing like ours, you should see them they're adorable.
They have this hair on their head that they put in cute styles: they make it long and curly and floofy and all have different colours.
I shall send a picture.
Anyway, do you wish to proceed with the enslavement of this planet?
Return message sent:
No. Do not let these beautiful creatures become slaves. That being said, I want one for myself as a pet. Colonise Mars or something, whatever possible to keep these little guys safe.
In the meantime, eliminate those strange dumb bipeds that the Earthlings say are their slavemasters and drivers. | 2017-08-20T08:30:05 | 2017-08-20T07:32:05 | 153 | 78 |
[WP] Your sister disappeared on her way to school, but no one noticed. When you asked your parents they told you you didn’t have a sister. All the family pictures in your house only show you and your parents. You spend the next 7 years investigating until you receive a knock on your door. | My life changed forever when I was 13 years old. One moment, I was just sitting on the sofa watching TV; the next, everything, including the TV, became deathly quiet. I tried speaking, but no words came out of my throat. It was like the whole world had gone on mute. And then I felt everything *shift*. It was the most strangest feeling I had ever felt. I was still sitting on the sofa, but I still had this dizzying sensation that I had just blacked out and woken somewhere utterly new. I immediately jolted to my feet. The first thing I noticed after the shift was that some of the furniture in the room had changed. The TV had moved a few inches to the right, the sofa was now red instead of blue, and my sister's lava lamp was no longer in the room. I rushed over to my parents' room to see if they had just felt what I had felt. On the way there though, I passed by my sister's bedroom. Or what used to be my sister's bedroom. I stood frozen in the doorway when I saw what was inside. All of my sister's belongings were gone. It was just a supply room filled with old appliances and file cabinets now. I ran over to my parents and asked them what the hell had happened to Elsie's room. They just stared back with confused eyes and asked who Elsie was. At this point, I was really starting to freak out. I brought them over to the living room, where we kept the family photos, but to my utter shock, Elsie had vanished from every single one of them. I looked through my phone and my computer, and found nothing. I contacted my friends and relatives, and they didn't remember my sister either. Elsie was gone. She had never existed.
For the first few days afterward, I honestly thought I had snapped and gone insane. Everything and everyone around me seemed to show that Elsie only existed in my head. Then, I started doing research online. That's when I started realizing there were a lot more differences in this world than just Elsie's disappearance. Certain celebrities that had died in my world were still living, some scandals had never happened and some political leaders had never been ousted from power. I looked back further into history, trying to see if I could find some kind of divergence point. It didn't take long. Ten years ago, four years before Elsie was born, the president and the vice president had both been assassinated by sniper fire. Secret Service agents had stormed the building where the sniper was, but to their utter shock, the sniper has simply vanished into thin air in front of them.
It's been seven years since then. I pored through all the facts and conspiracy theories that I could find about the assassination. I researched time theory theories and searched for any trace of the past timeline online. All of it proved fruitless. I was close to giving up on ever seeing Elsie again. Then, one day, I heard a knock on my door.I opened my door, only to find an middle aged woman in a suit and tie outside. "Can I help you?" I asked nervously.
She gave me a piercing gaze. "Would I be correct that you, Tobias Ford, have memories of the past timeline?"My mouth dropped open. "How...how do you know that?"
"We've been monitoring your internet history and we've been analyzing your bloodwork for quite a while, Mr. Ford." She paused for a moment."I'll get straight to the point. I belong to a top secret agency in the government. We believe that you are one of the few people in the world that possesses a rare genetic mutation that allows you to remember past timelines. And we want to recruit you."
My head feels dizzy. I can't believe that any of this is actually happening. "What exactly does your agency do?"
She takes out a manila folder from within her suit and hands it to me. "We have but one simple goal. To restore history to its proper time." | I woke up to my friend TJ knocking on my door. He's a surveillance and computer geek so I asked him to dig into any records involving her to find out about it. He remembers her too, but only because I told him about her.
He informed me that she wasn't actually a flesh-and-blood human being, but that she was synthetic. Apparently some old government reports weren't keep well hidden. Yes, a lab-grown human, implanted with memories and a personality to boot, and handed off to my parents to raise until a certain time. It went wrong, and some high-priority targets kidnapped her in order to research her, leading to the original researchers pulling a Men In Black and wiping her from the memories of everyone who knew her, even altering all of our pictures to boot.
Although, the memory wiping didn't work on me for some reason, and I didn't know TJ when this happened, so I was able to tell him about it. He said he has some resources in the right places and that we might be able to get in and get her back. I just hope we don't get caught. | 2020-05-03T10:37:31 | 2020-05-03T10:31:43 | 654 | 18 |
[WP] While magic is real, it cannot affect "normies". Nor can they see it. You can cast a huge explosion and only other magically gifted people will be hurt. Buildings/objects constructed by normies are unaffected. You have been waging a secret war with Kevin from HR for years. | Despite their similarities, Mia had always disagreed with Kevin's stance that the Keurig machine in the company kitchen produced the best coffee compared to the jungle of corporate coffee chains surrounding their office building. The machine sat atop a drawer containing a variety of cups labeled exotic names that all produced the same muddy hot bean water. Mia smiled as she breathed in the Keurig's aroma, knowing that she wouldn't be partaking today in particular. The coffee was poisoned.
Mia had arrived early and filled the drawer with her own special cups; both she and the Keurig were waiting when Kevin walked in. They were a study in contrasts. Kevin was round and short, with soft puffy features. His snub nose seemed desperate to escape his unironic soul patch. Mia, on the other hand, didn't run out of breath every time she took the stairs. She was practically as tall as he was wide. Though she wouldn't have described herself as athletic, her made-to-fit blouse, skinny black slacks, and lean figure gave a strong hitwoman-like impression.
Shattering his mushy appearance, Kevin's voice rumbled like a concrete mixer.
"Mia! Another day another dollar. Care to join me for a cup-of-joe?"
She poured hot water from an electric kettle next to the Keurig over the green-tea bag in her mug to keep up appearances. Her voice wafted towards Kevin, a trail of smoke.
"Morning, Kevin. I'm all set here. I got your email. Should we have our meeting now?"
Kevin raised a cautious eyebrow as he sipped from his recycled paper cup. They'd always exchanged pleasantries before discussing business; he didn't care much for improvisation.
"Here? I, uh... well. I thought we'd take a conference room. I booked us Giraffe." A bead of sweat rolled down his left temple. "Your department's KPIs are due. I figured we'd just get it over with early in the week. You know?"
True, the KPIs were due—but not until next month. She picked up her tea bag by the string and drew out the silence, dipping her bag as the steam rose from her WORLD'S GREATEST PROJECT MANAGER mug. She enjoyed watching him sweat. After several heartbeats, Mia ended the torture.
"I poisoned the coffee."
Kevin blinked at her, then spat his coffee back into the cup. She hit him again.
"Don't bother. It's manticore poison; safe for everyone else here—but for us... I'm tired of our little weekly meetings, Kevin. Do you know how many meetings I have already? Well, no more. I'll give you the antidote—if you resign."
Mia was regarded by the Arcane Council as a first-tier sorceress, strong enough to subdue a manticore by herself. Kevin, of course, operated outside of the Council, drawing upon Chaos to fuel his spells. A true warlock. But manticore poison didn't just putrify organs—it rotted away a practitioner's magical core. So she sighed when, instead of submitting, Kevin's pupil's dilated, and the crackling thrum of Chaos surrounded him like a whirlwind. The howling black gale whipped at her hair and clothes, but none of the *normies* in the kitchen noticed the little bastard forming an attack spell.
Her magical third eye blinked in irritation; was he not holding back? She'd known he'd toyed with her during their duels, enjoying the game of cat and mouse he forced upon her thanks to his position as head of HR. Clenching her jaw, Mia drew upon the power of Order.
Right there, in the middle of the Providence Insurance company kitchen, Kevin had transformed himself into a hulking shadowfiend—curling horns and wicked claws glistening under the soft fluorescent light. Of course, he now towered over Mia.
Mia conjured Sen's Brilliant Armor, along with The Shield of Damascus in her left hand and a genuine Vorpal Blade in her right. Her sword thrummed like a thousand bees ready to burst from their hive; through the slits in her helm, Mia could just make out the apprehension in Kevin's flaming green eyes.
In the kitchen, Amber from sales paused, wondering why Kevin and Mia were glaring at each other in the middle of the kitchen. She couldn't have noticed that their magical channels were wide open, that their auras blasted out like jet exhaust, or that Kevin's insides were rotting away at a rapid pace. Amber did notice that the Keurig was free, so she said, "Pardon me," and padded around them to make herself a cup of coffee.
As Kevin wildly lashed out at Mia with felfire, Mia raised her mirrored shield and dug her heels against the powerful black flames. Kevin didn't notice Mia push her way closer, step by step, inch by inch; all his attention was focused on reducing Mia to cinders.
Kevin should have known that manticore poison worked faster the more you channeled magic, but Kevin had never been one for thinking outside the box. His flames, the flames that left Mia scorched and bruised week after week, roared against her shining shield.
Mia didn't charge the final steps, because she couldn't. As soon as Kevin's felflames puffed out, her armor locked up around her; the suit of armor overheated and the joints welded together. But Mia wasn't done. She whispered a final, desperate spell and her sword shot out from her right hand.
Back in the kitchen, Amber leaned against the counter, enjoying a cup of Hunky Honey Hazelnut (which was safe for her, a *normie* to drink), as she watched Kevin and Mia glare at each other in what must have looked like stage combat poses. Unseen to Amber, Kevin coughed up black sludge and he returned to his original form. Mia's armor and weapons turned to mist and she hunched over, hands on knees, gasping for breath.
Mia rose and walked up to Kevin's trembling form. She patted him on the shoulder. A strong stench of rotting fish poured out from Kevin's mouth as the last of his Chaos magic winked out. Mia shook her head and whispered into his ear, "You've got about another ten minutes. BCC me on that resignation and I'll give you the antidote." She glanced around the kitchen, making sure no one else witnessed what truly happened between them, then quickly whispered another spell. The Manticore poison in the Keurig cups transmuted into regular coffee.
Mia sat at her desk and opened up her laptop, loading up Outlook. She glanced at the time at the bottom corner of her screen and counted the seconds. In Mia's experience, magical duels between practitioners were commonplace, but a decent cup of coffee? That was true magic. | "Why don't you have a seat?" Kevin from HR gestured as he closed the door behind me. Kevin's office was adorned with photos of his family, a baseball he caught at Wrigley field, a Garfield mug, and some Funko Pops from a normie show I never heard of.
I sat in the swivel chair facing Kevin's desk, it was clearly broken as it wheezed and sank to the height suitable for a toddler as I sat down. I felt like a child about to be scolded by his father. I hated working here! I deserve to be treated like an adult.
I twiddled my thumbs for a moment , as Kevin sat opposite me, and stared at his PC screen.
I couldn't see the screen from the angle I was sitting at, so I stared at the black-eyed zombie Funko pop Kevin propped on top of his monitor.
I tried honing my telekinesis to move the Funko and give Kevin a good scare. It didn't work. Perhaps Kevin had an anti-magic field around his office?
Kevin typed a few notes and made a final click.
"You know why you're here." Kevin stated. "We can't have you going around the office chanting... " Kevin looked at his screen, furrowing " excuse my pronunciation, 'Imosol, falaha?'"
"Emorsol Fahlafor!" I lashed back at him. "Don't you speak Middle Elvish, you fool! "
Kevin sighed and put his hand to his temple. "You need to know that you're not normal. And we're here to help you get through..."
"No shit, I'm not a normie!" I had known this since I was twelve, when the hobgoblin descended down the lit fireplace on a velvet rope, and informed me I was Valoran blooded.
"Unfortunately this will be your last day at the office, but I spoke with Jorge and Neeraj and we're extending mental health benefits for the next 8 months, no need to pay COBRA.. Now we also would like to offer re..."
COBRA! I knew Kevin was embedded with the Serpent Guild. The fool admitted to it, he was trying to trick me into joining COBRA this morning, but I wouldn't fall for it. He thought he could turn me... But I will not be turned! No matter how much you poison me with that venom, my anti-venom is twice as strong. I knew the Vax mandate was nothing more than an assault on hapless normies to turn them towards the Serpent Guild through venom.
I shook my head gently left and right. "You will not win" I said coolly and with an air of confidence that was uncharacteristic of me. My incantation cannot be undone.
I sensed the shadows shift in the room. I felt a hand on my back, it was Kevin's stealth goon.
"Andre from security is here to escort you from company grounds, you are not to return for any..."
"Crontis Baelbilus!" I responded.
It was a simple prayer of protection. I saw Kevin's wand in his Garfield mug and made a reach for it.
"Hey that's my pencil" Kevin hollered like the wimp he was.
I stood up, raising the wand to smite Kevin with holy flame, it was disguised as a mechanical pencil with a rubber 'eraser', which was on fact for shock absorption to prevent mana burn.
"Taser, Taser!" Andre shouted.
I felt a shock across my body, Andre had used a lightning strike!
I thought he was just a normie, but I had underestimated him, Kevin must have trained him in the ways of the Serpent Guild, for only they use the dark lightning magic.
My knees buckled and I fell to the ground.
Today, evil has won. | 2021-11-15T13:25:52 | 2021-11-15T13:12:56 | 36 | 26 |
[WP] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy. Not due to superior strength,speed,skill or strategy. In fact, it's because in comparison to the other species, humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with.
credit to r/Debdub10 for thinking of the idea | 'Alright so you were there on Sol three right?, was it really as messed up as they said?"
"Even worse, so there we were eight hundred Cruisers, two hundred Dreadnoughts and a Capitol ship, we should have rolled over their measly fleet of three hundred shuttles, eighty cruisers and a colony ship."
"So what went wrong?"
"Ok, so apparently there was an antimatter refinery on the planet, fifty of those shuttles were loaded to the gills with the stuff, and no these were not specially designed shuttles, they just decided why not load my cargo hold with the most volatile substance in the known universe. "
"But how could they fire it, even Dreadnoughts don't have room to safely fire antimatter?"
"Fire it, they didn't fire it they rammed us, at first the captains thought they planned to deploy missiles and so decided to let the laser defenses handle them while preparing to destroy the retreating vessels. "
"But thats crazy, nothing survives an antimatter explosion."
"It gets worse, so after that the captains called for evasive actions if one of those shuttles when near, so of course a hundred fifty of them decide to head straight for the Dreadnoughts.
Only Dreadnoughts are not build to take on shuttles, so the Cruisers are told to fire upon the shuttles, which of course avoid them leaving the Cruisers shots impacting the Dreadnoughts.
Now normally this wouldn't be a problem for the shields, but some of those shuttles carried EMP mines, which disabled the shields just moments before the hit lands, of course not all of them were timed correctly and dozens of shuttles fell prey to their own EMP."
"Still its only a matter of time before they got all the shuttles right?"
"Ye but the other forces didn't sit and wait, you see the Capitol ship decided to send out fighters to clean them up faster, now the first wave went out ok, a hundred small fighters launched.
But the enemy had been planning for this, five of their Cruisers charged their FTL engines, now at the time we thought they were fleeing, but if we had studied their trajectories we would have found their true purpose.
You see a Capitol ship is one of the strongest vessels made, it can withstand even a dozen dreadnoughts firing at it, its only weakness is that if it releases fighters it needs to lower part of its shielding, as the second wave exited the Cruisers ftl jump took them right though the fighters and into the side to the Capitol ship at ftl speeds, had they been of by a second they would have slammed into its shielding, doing little to no damage, but they timed it perfectly."
"But ftl paths can't intersect solid matter, thats hard coded into every one of our ships."
"Yes, every one of OUR ships, it wouldn't surprise me if they just disabled their own or did ftl jumps without it altogether."
"But back to the battle, so what did you do after it was taken out?"
"Well besides evasive maneuvering around the shuttles we now had to track each cruiser that powers its FTL engine, which they of course did at random, but even with that we were still winning, high cost or not.
That all changed when the colony ship decided to fire up its terra former, you see on land its gravity hammer allows you to flatten large areas of land, in space any object smaller then a planet is send flying in the opposite direction, objects like missiles, ships, hell even some asteroids were subjected to it.
Now normally this wouldn't be much of a problem, but the previous attacks left enormous wrecks and debris clouds lying around meaning lasers couldn't hit the Colony ship and missiles were send back or destroyed by debris.
Of course flanking maneuvers were tried but before they could succeed FTL Cruisers targeted them, meaning that the only path left for them was retreat, from the initial fleet only a hundred Cruisers and fifty Dreadnoughts survived." | Planetary conquest had a tried and true method. No matter how advanced, primitive, or psychic it had never once failed in the 10 thousand years it had been practiced. You went in, killed 80% of the population, put the rest in camps with only spoons for food and you harvested the planet for all it was worth. Sure, some races had tried to dig out with the spoons, but it never worked. Humans, however, were a totally different beast. It all started when a guard's eyes were found laying about the place, then when a team was sent to investigate they never returned. High command got a little nervous, so they sent a fully armed military unit in to find the huddled and naked forms of the soldiers. They appeared starved because their skin was so loose, they were immediately taken aboard the ship and then the ship went silent. Next thing high command knew there was a group of a few hundred completely naked humans with their 'guns' showed up and blasted them to bits. The empire fell, all over a few spoons.
First prompt, also on mobile so excuse any formatting. | 2018-10-11T13:00:33 | 2018-10-11T12:03:42 | 110 | 69 |
[WP] The horror story where the victims are genre-savvy, and avoid doing things that would clearly lead to their death. Problem is, that the killer is genre-savvy too, and does not play by the usual rules.
​ | "Don't open that door," Jason said.
The girl ignored him and slowly reached for the doorknob. The door creaked ominously as she turned the knob and pulled the door towards her.
"You're still safe. Close that door and leave."
Jason could have been talking to a brick wall for all the good it would have done him. The girl pulled the door open, and the masked killer that had been stalking the group swung his machete into the girl's neck. Dark blood sprayed the killer's mask as he wrenched the blade out and swung again, and again, and again.
"First blood." Jason didn't even have to look in Ryan's direction to know that the bastard was smirking at him. 'I do believe you owe me five bucks.
Jason grumbled as he stood up from his spot on the couch, rummaged through his pocket and threw the crumpled bill at his friend. He sat back down on the chair with a huff and turned back to the T.V.
"That's not the color blood should be, especially if it sprayed like that." Jason looked over at Mitchell, who was frowning at the T.V. "The killer hit an artery. Arterial blood is bright red."
"It's a B movie, maybe even a C, they don't tend to care about the small details," Jason said. "Why do you even know that?"
"Dunno, I heard about it one day and decided to look into it, learned a lot of facts about blood." Mitchell smiled at Jason. "Did you know that blood dries brown?"
Ryan snorted. "Nerd."
"And proud of it." Mitchell stood up and looked at the everyone. "Anyone want a drink?"
Jason nodded.
"Sure. surprise me," Ryan said.
"Nothing alcoholic." Jennifer said from her spot on the armchair. Mitchell nodded and made his way towards the kitchen.
"But why not?" Ryan asked.
"We're miles away from anywhere in a log cabin. if any one of you gets seriously injured and we need to get to the hospital ASAP, wouldn't it make sense to have someone sober enough not to crash and kill everyone?"
"Fair point. Just sucks that you can't join in on the fun."
Jenifer smiled. "You are welcome to join me in sobriety, Ryan."
"Hell no," Ryan said. "I am going to get smashed tonight."
Jenifer nodded. "And that's why I'm not."
Ryan shrugged. "Suit yourself." Ryan turned towards the door to the kitchen. "Hey Mitch! How're the drinks coming along?"
Silence.
"C'mon Mitch, you're not going to unnerve us by stay-"
With a snap, power in the cabin turned off.
Within seconds, Jason, Ryan, and Jenifer all had their phones out with their flashlights on. With a glance at each other they all walked slowly towards the kitchen.
"Mitch?" Ryan called out cautiously. "You there?" Again, he was met with silence. As Jason looked around, he could tell that their horror movie binge had set them on edge. Ryan entered the kitchen.
"Mitch, this isn't-"
Ryan shouted as he fell forward. Jason looked down and saw a rope laying slack on the ground. Movement drew his eyes to the fridge. In horror, Jason watched as the fridge fell forward.
Ryan had seen it too, but the floor underneath him was slick and he was unable to get the traction to move himself from his spot in front of the fridge.
There was a crunch as the top of the fridge fell down on Ryan's head and neck. His body twitched then fell still. Jenifer screamed, and all Jason could do was stare.
Jenifer's screaming had stopped, and the sound that replaced it was an airy gurgling.
"I like horror movie night. It's fun." Jason whipped around to see Mitchell inches away from him, a knife in his hand. Jenifer was kneeling on the ground with her hands pressed to her throat.
"I always wanted to see what a damaged diaphragm would do."
Mitchell's knife flashed in the darkness.
| ...and within moments the doctor's abomination had broken loose, free to sow terror for years to come.
Oh, hello there! I didn't expect company this time of night. You see, I've always been a night owl. Staying up late, dreaming of unspeakable horrors and degenerate killers. I knew, even from a young age. I knew what I was, and I knew what it would get me! A quick and dirty lynching at best, some interminable stay in prison if I were unlucky. Doesn't sound so bad until you consider, if I went to prison it certainly wouldn't be for anything as base as *murder*! How pedestrian. And my sorts of proclivities tend to unnerve even hardened killers.
No, my experiments would change the world. That is, if some group of plucky teenagers wasn't likely to leave me gurgling and bleeding in the mud if I ever made my dreams a reality. I know all too well how these things end.
But I've got them beat, after a fashion. I may not ever get to perform experimental procedures on a live human but... at least my characters will.
And I know I can keep them one step ahead of any... scrupulous teens and their bastard dogs. | 2018-09-03T07:46:49 | 2018-09-03T07:12:40 | 57 | 20 |
[WP] In a world where people can buy and sell skills, you work at a skill pawn shop and someone is trying to pawn a skill that you can't value or appraise. | "Here it is," the wrinkled old man said, sliding a small, circular object on the table towards me. I picked it up and examined it closely, rolling it in my fingers. "What's in this one?" I asked. "Something very valuable."
In the business, they're called 'badges'. A few decades ago, we learned how to put our knowledge, skills, and even memories into these little tokens for safekeeping. It's good for a few reasons: badges don't forget, like our brains can, and they can be bought and sold from person to person.
People got hooked, and everything changed.
Education is completely different now. With badges, we don't have to have all our children sit in a classroom for hours on end; their parents just buy them the skills they need when they get old enough. We still have students, but their job is to learn a subject and put it in a badge, sell it, and start again. The good thing is that since people can change what they know, they can hop from lifestyle to lifestyle and find what really makes them happy. Sometimes, things can go wrong.
Like one of my coworkers, actually, became a student when some sad fella at the University sold us his ability to learn, and he bought it up from him, thinking he could make more money. He's completely different now. Occasionally, he'd come in here and rant about the whole thing being "like a modern Sisyphus", and the next day he'd forgotten it. I tell him he was much happier here with me in the shop, but he doesn't believe me. He says he can see things so much more clearly now, and he can't imagine going back to being like me, and that I should get out while I still can.
Maybe he's right: appraising badges is tougher work than you might think. You can't really tell what's in a badge just by looking at it, and you generally can't trust the guy selling it to you in my line of work. So the only way to check is to use it, see what it contains, jot down notes about it, then remake the badge from that knowledge.
Sometimes they bring in really good stuff that's tempting to keep. One man came in here and sold his memories of a beautiful vista he saw on his travels. I bought that one for myself on the spot. I can't imagine what he needed the money for. I guess he thought he could just get a memory like that back from some other pawn shop someday or something.
Sometimes they bring in... People try to dump bad memories off on me. I'm obligated to make sure I'm not selling dangerous stuff to my customers, so I gotta check each and every badge they bring in. I remember the first time it happened, just a few weeks after I started. A lady, about 25 or so, came in here with the happiest smile you could ever see on a person. She plinked down a badge and said, "I don't need this anymore. You can get rid of it for me." She left without any sort of payment. I sighed, and figured I'd at least look into it.
The first thing I learned was why she was smiling that day. Imagine something happened to you that you couldn't escape, that you would relive every day of your life. Then imagine someone comes along and says they can erase that, put it into this small little thing, where it couldn't hurt you anymore.
I... don't want to talk about what was on it. As soon as I could, I put those torments into another little badge and fucking burned it.
And then, I learned that you can't really ever get all the stuff out. Little ghosts of information haunt you. The bad memories make you feel fear, anger, confusion, the good ones pride, confidence, happiness, all out of your control. When you need to do some task, you'll suddenly know how to do it, then forget how. Other people's thoughts start crowding out your own, the more you take in. You can try to ignore them, if you're strong enough, but...
I activated the old man's badge, let the knowledge swarm over me. I wracked my brain and felt --
"There's nothing," I replied.
"Yes," the old man said. "There is nothing."
I sat, stunned, for what seemed like forever. Nothing. Quiet. In this shop of infinite knowledge, the ability to shut everything out -- only the sound of silence gave me what I wanted.
"I...I can't..." I murmured. "You can make the call," I finished, cutting him a blank check. When he left, I quickly locked the door, closing up early. I snuck out the back door.
I was free. | "Sorry sir, but I'm afraid this skill isn't even worth anything..." I shrugged, pulled away from my skill appraisal device and leaned against the counter,
The customer, or seller, stood in silence for a moment and opened his mouth, "**ARE YOU SERIOUS?!?** Do you know how long it took to master this skill? The tier must be at least epic... NO, legendary!"
Another tough costumer, but this skill, although rare, doesn't seem to have any practical uses what so ever.
"So... how long?"
"Excuse me?"
"How long did it take you to master this skill?"
"Ah... That's a gooooood question my friend, I'll have you know I've been practicing and perfecting this skill since I was but a *wee lad*, 30 years sure passes quickly haha, it is possibly the most refined rare skill you will ever be able to obtain sir, don't miss this once in a life time chance!"
"Eh... I mean... it's a great skill and all, but I can't really put a value on it, there's just... no offense but... no practical use for this skill, I doubt anyone would ever buy it..."
"Are you serious? This skill could be used for anything I tell ya, **ANYTHING!**From killing vicious enemies to cooking dinner, dinning outside, during work, it even serves as a great party trick!" Damn, this customer sure is desperate, *sigh*...
"Hm... I'll think about it man... come back tomorrow..."
As Ted from accounting scurried out of my shop, I sighed again,
" How did that guy even obtain a skill called **Valhallan Valkyrie Rapid Pen Barrage**?" | 2015-10-22T05:23:01 | 2015-10-22T05:15:43 | 811 | 48 |
[WP] You travel back in time to the 1900's, you take your tablet out of your rucksack only to find that there is a WiFi hotspot nearby labeled "If you can see this, turn back.". | The container landed with the clatter of steel against concrete.
I staggered my way out of my padded coffin into a filthy alleyway, and was greeted by the sounds of honking, the smell of smog, and a gun put against my head.
“Y-your money or your life!” stammered the thug who had just witnessed my landing.
“Give me a sec.” I staggered over to a dumpster and promptly threw up into it.
I raised my head and looked at the confused thug. “What year is it?”
“W-what?”
I repeated myself calmly “I said, what year is it.” The effect of my straight faced-ness was rather ruined by my wobbling knees as I struggled to put them under me and get to my feet.
“1900 of course,” he didn’t seem to understand the implications of either my questions or the fact that I had just staggered out of a box that had moments ago been glowing and smoking from high velocity gravitons and tachyons slamming against it at relativistic speeds.
“And why the hell are you asking anyway. I could kill you right here, and no one would be the wiser,” he blustered.
This was bad. He was starting to regain his nerve. I needed to regain control of the situation.
“Look friend.” I finally got my feet steady enough to stand up and wobble my way towards him as I reached into my pocket. “You don’t seem to understand so let me make it abundantly clear.” I pulled out a taser and shot him.
“AGHHGHHGHH!”
I kneeled down next to his twitching body and riffled through his pockets. A pocket knife, some lint, and bingo! His wallet. Some assorted bills, two silver dollars, and a business card for New York Shipping Co.
New York huh.
The time slip worked exactly as intended. Three seconds in a container designed to pierce through the fabric of space time, and I'd landed one hundred and sixty three years in the past. The year 1900 in New York City.
“Thanks a bunch.” I punctuated my words with a check to the ribcage as I got up and tucked his gun into my waistband. “You’ve been a wonderful help.”
I staggered to the edge of the alley and got my first look at the place I’d landed.
The city was loud and obnoxious. Much like the New York I remembered from my time, but without the pleasant hum of electric vehicles, and more filled with the sounds of screaming cabbies and roadside vendors.
I’d forgotten how much I hated human drivers with their profanity and poor driving.
I caught a whiff of the combined stench of open sewer grates, trash, and the streetside food vendors and promptly lost all control of my stomach again.
After I was done painting the brick wall of the alley with my stomach again, I staggered out into the street and began looking for a safe familiar place.
“Rough night huh?” The hot dog vendor gave me a quick once over in a practiced way. “Hotdog?”
My stomach lurched again at the thought. “No thanks.”
This whole world was different. On a logical level, I knew that it was the exact same Earth and the exact same New York as I was used to, just a long time in the past.
Such a weird thought to have. None of our languages are designed with time travel in mind. If I kill someone here, then am I guilty of murder in the year 2063, or do I only become guilty of the crime after I commit it back in 1900?
My head hurts already just thinking about it. On second thought, the headache that was sneaking up on me probably wasn’t just because of the concepts I was thinking about.
I needed to sit down. Maybe write down some preliminary observations about the time slip. After all, I wasn't hired to come here just to sight see. I needed to write a preliminary report and time slip it forward.
Further down the street I saw a subway entrance with a rope over the entrance and a ‘closed for maintenance’ sign hanging. I slipped inside and set up a lamp next to a bench.
I pulled out my tablet to access the note feature, but as soon as I turned it on, a window popped open.
I felt a prickle run down my spine. "available wi-fi signals." What the hell? This technology isn't supposed to exist yet. Not only that, but the title of the signal available was "Turn back while you can"
Something was incredibly wrong here. I need to get back to my capsule as soon as I can.
| Sean was useful in the same way people aren't. Since his arrival he managed to anger a Pinkerton, break a clothesline, and get into a fight with the neigborhood cat Beanie. Now that the first night was coming to a close, Sean wanted to explore more of this brick wonderland that was slowly dissipating from his view.
Rummaging through his rucksack, Sean threw away useless green pieces of trash that were weighing him down, and found what he wanted. A source of light also known as a tablet. He clicked and beat the mirror until light appeared for him. Thinking heavily, Sean decided to use the Internet in hopes of finding a good place to eat for the night. To his dismay only a wavering signal remained labeled "If you can see this, turn back." So Sean did as told, turned around, got lost, and turned around again.
Moving forward, or backward for that matter, Sean decided he had had enough and sat down on the street. A slight vibration was felt on his chest. It continued for the next couple minutes until the traveler noticed it. He pulled out a clock in his pocket with the words "turn back" engraved on the side. A small lever was right next to the words big enough for a finger to flick. Sean decided to pull it back with his teeth.
A buzzing was heard, light flickered, more crazy science surrounded Sean until he was back in his bedroom. His parents stood before him seething with anger. That was the last time he brought a tablet to the past. | 2014-12-23T21:32:17 | 2014-12-23T19:33:17 | 100 | 14 |
[WP]The world has decided to designate various selfsustaining cities as "time capsule"-like zones where no contact is to be made in any form. These zones are to be isolated completely for anywhere between 25-100 years. It's been 100 years and the restrictions have finally been lifted from your city. | It's been 100 years since the gates were shut. A giant wall has surrounded Sealth for as long as I can remember, metal and stone arcing up and out. The dome over top acts as a physical and electromagnetic barrier, whatever that means. The large numbers at the top slowly counting down the last hours until the gates open again.
It's been 100 years since our small city was built and named after Seattle, thousands of eager participants filling it's streets and apartments. Perfectly laid out, planned and efficient. Meant to last, recycle, reuse.
As the stories go, we lasted about 40 years before collapse.
Oddly enough, we still have coffee. Given how the Seattlites of story consumed coffee, we expected to run out. I guess they didn't count on the ingenuity of people securing their next fix. The stuff was everywhere, right next to the scraggly fruit trees and almost barren gardens.
The first famine caused the first collapse. Looting, rioting, even attempts to break out. The local government quickly squashed it, and the resulting conflict reduced the population enough that we were able to recover.
It was almost 15 years later that the second famine came. The gardens and orchards started to die, and the little suburban livestock farms started to go too. People got desperate. They started to loot and riot again. The local government moved to squash the rioters, but they remembered, and they were prepared.
The fires burned for nearly 3 weeks, greasy black smoke filling the dome and staining it, leaving everything in a permanent haze after the smoke had dissipated. With the sunlight being diluted, the solar power failed. Without power, the water pumps shut down. The gardens never really grew back and the livestock had been dead for weeks by that point. We were starving, trapped in a miasmic hell of our own creation. Decades later, the smell of smoke and burned flesh permeated everything.
We never really recovered. We tried everything. We couldn't reach the dome to clean it, we couldn't ask for help. There was a short period of cooperation for muscle power to get the water flowing again, but that quickly turned into slave labor and another revolt.
It was nearly 3 years before the first case of cannibalism was discovered.
She was just a child, barely more than 6 years old. Her mother had died, likely of malnutrition. We think she was left alone for a week before she was found, face buried in her mothers neck, chewing. With no caretaker and nobody with the ability to care for her, she was put to death.
But the question had been asked. If it means our survival, should we? Our crops were failing, our people were starving despite our best efforts, there was no meat if any kind in the city. we were going to wither and die just like our crops.
The answer was a resounding yes.
The next question was "who?"
The criminals, the infirm, the elderly, the useless. They were the first. We went at it with an enthusiasm masked with stoicism. Eventually, only those deemed "worthy" were left. Now what?
Criminals started to crop up everywhere as accusations went flying. He stole my property, she took my water, they insulted me. Anything to cast doubt on the worthiness of their neighbor. Eventually, everyone was a criminal is someone's eyes and the system was no longer enforceable. People withdrew to their own territories, killing anyone that trespassed. The city grew dark and quiet, nobody leaving their homestead. Rarely, things got tough enough that raids started. Looting, raping and killing whoever they could find, stripping their victims down to bones.
We had become no better than beasts, caged without escape or food, forced to give in to the darkest part if humanity just to survive. I'm not sure we could even consider ourselves human anymore.
The clock continued to count down, mere minutes now. I could almost feel the tension in the air, despite the empty streets. There were 20 gates spaced throughout the wall, but only about 100 of us left. In the distance I heard the very faint sound of fighting. Bullets had disappeared decades ago, leaving only crudely fashioned hand weapons. Metal shards affixed to sharpened sticks, clubs, the occasional hatchet.
I had my own hatchet, passed down through a couple generations. Decades of use had warn it down to a warped nub, little more than a sharpened weight on a short handle. It had served my family well, right up until I used it in my father when he was no longer able to move quickly enough. He was 47. I remember his stories of the past fondly, but I don't regret what I did. I have to survive, and he was no longer able to.
The clock read 0 and the gates started to rumble, screaming through a century of dust, rust and gravity. I felt the air blow past me, into the crack that was showing in the gate, whipping the dirt in the street into a frenzy. I don't think I'd ever felt a breeze before.
The green beyond was astounding, and I stood for a second, dumbstruck by the brightness and vibrancy of color. Sunlight more intense than I had ever seen cascaded down on trees reaching higher than I'd ever seen. Two men stood there, next to a vehicle if some kind, obviously awaiting any survivors. Filter masks covered their faces, but I could see the surprise in their eyes at the sight of a human standing before them.
But I'm not sure if I can call myself human anymore, and I was hungry.
| Kansas City, Missouri, USA was an ideal city to represent the American Midwestern Region in The Global Preservation. Many factors went into deciding to lock ourselves away for 30 years. Kansas City has its own culture, and is still true to the ideals of middle-America. Its growing arts and academia, combined with the general non-violence of the population, its sustainability, and its central location made it the best choice for preservation.
In 2015, the Kansas City Metropolitan Cultural Preservation Area was established. It took a few years to get everything sorted out, and it was all very civil. Any citizens who lived in the area that would be the KCPA that did not wish to participate were relocated to St. Louis, Missouri, Denver, Colorado, or Des Moines, Iowa, at the expense of the American branch of The Global Preservation Fund. Before the migration, the Kansas City Metropolitan area had a population of approximately 2 million. Many people opted out, and many former residents of Kansas City opted in, and moved back to the area. After it was all said and done, the area had 1.2 million residents.
I was 23 when KCPA was finalized and our roads were cut off. At first, it was more difficult than we had anticipated. I had friends in other parts of the country, and friends who had opted out of KCPA, who I knew I wouldn't see for at least 30 years. My parents would be in their 80's when KCPA opened back up. I would be 53. All of my dreams of travelling the world and being young would be dashed. But I wanted to see my hometown grow in its own culture.
In 2045, we opened back up to the rest of the world. There was a massive parade. World leaders, scientists, important Kansas Citians, former Kansas City athletes and all of KCPA was in attendance. It was the celebration of a lifetime, with no riots, no fires, no arrests- true Kansas City style. The streets were filled with the smell of barbecue, cups were filled with craft beers. It took a while for residents to adjust to the new technological developments, but we embraced them. We contacted our family and friends. We got our sports teams back up and running. We were ripe for another World Series win.
There was no mass-apocalypse, and the world outside of KCPA was no more dystopic than the world we had left. We expected Kansas City to be revered by the scientific and global communities for our ability to remain peaceful and prosperous through our isolation. We expected recognition for all of our hard work. Instead, we got a Cover for the New York Times that read "Kansans Remain Peaceful for 30 Years" | 2015-11-04T17:29:51 | 2015-11-04T17:02:58 | 63 | 44 |
[WP] Making a deal with a demon requires a soul. Usually this is a very bad idea, but you got a crazy idea. Earlier you traded your lunch money to the school bully in exchange for a piece of paper that says you own his soul. You're about to find out if demons consider this a valid contract. | Warning; triggers ahead; abuse.
"I, Steven Reed, hereby give Alex Chase my soul, without reservation or duress, in exchange for his lunch money for the week of the 14th of April", the demon read it aloud, distaste and loathing dripping like melted butter from every syllable. Her gaze roze and fixed on me. The eye contact made me flinch. "The fuck is this meant to be?" she barked it. It's the only way to describe the way the words came out of her.
"Um. A contract for his soul?" I'd meant to sound more confident about it than that. But something about her gaze and the way she'd asked the question twisted my assured statement into a fairly weedy question. As soon as I'd said it I wanted it to come back, so I could have another go, but that would just make it worse.
I wish I hadn't done this in my pyjamas. This had seriously undermined my authority.
She eyed me for a long, long time. Honestly it could have been days, for how it felt. It was probably only about a minute or so though. I know it wasn't more than a day because it didn't get dark, although time always seems to flow a bit differently when she's in the room with me. I could feel myself getting hot. The same kind of hot that I got when my parents were doing their shouting at each other piece. That creeping, insidious heat which spilled into my stomach as the certainty that, just like with my parents, what came next was going to be bad for me.
I started to fidget, fingers idly tracing the edges of my favourite scar. The demon watched with interest as I picked at a promising looking scab, but seemed disappointed when I didn't rip it off. Finally, she looked back at my contract. She sniffed it, like you might sniff a pair of underpants to see if they were clean enough to wear again or if they needed to be turned inside out for another week. "What have you written this with, human?"
I tried to answer, but my throat didn't want to work. I had to cough a bit first, but it seemed again to reinforce that I wasn't as confident as I was trying to pretend I was. This wasn't going well.
"I... um... I only had a couple of wax crayons. But it's still signed" I added the afterthought as firmly as I could, as if this made my point valid. Shifting awkwardly, I could tell that the sweat seeping out of my back was going to make me change my pyjamas before bed. An extra pair of pyjamas to wash was bound to get me in trouble.
"I see." the demon said icily, still glaring so hard at the scribbled contract that I was worried she'd burn a hole right through it. "And you wanted... what... from me?"
I'd expected the question, but it still made the bottom drop out of my stomach. This was my chance. Possibly my only one. It would take years for me to be able to deal with this naturally. I shifted again, wincing as the now sodden cotton of my pyjama top clung to the raw skin on my lower back, and then pulled away painfully.
"I said... I said before. About..." I tailed off lamely. This was hard to put into words. The demon sniffed derisively, but her eyes took me in again, whole, and her shoulders seemed to move ever so slightly. It wasn't much, but it reminded me of my Nana, how she used to look at me when I used to be allowed to visit her after school. I could never hide the pain from her.
"Yes... Yes I see. Well." She straightened, abruptly, and I flinched again. "This isn't a soul, boy." My heart could not sink. It couldn't get any lower than it was perpetually shoved day by day. But I felt it crack. What was left of my hope seemed to fizzle out of my toes. I blinked furiously, but the tears came unbidden, clogging up my throat and blurring my vision. I couldn't hold back the sob that burst out of my tense frame, and the effort almost broke me.
I hated being this weak. This small. This insignificant. I waited for her to leave, I looked up expecting her to be gone - she often left without a word. But she remained, useless paper in her hand, gaze wary but locked on me and my despair.
An unwelcome warmth announced the emptying of my bladder. This really wasn't helping my confident stance.
"However." When she spoke again it was so abrupt I almost screamed with the sudden fear. I wiped my eyes furiously trying to focus on her. Whatever expression was on her face now I couldn't place - it seemed like one I hadn't seen on her before. "Your personal circumstances are... Interesting. I have often been summoned by children your age. Often they want money, or fame. Very rarely do they ask me for what you have asked me for."
I sniffed. My request seemed insurmountable in comparison. If only I'd asked for money.
She smiled. This was a new kind of smile. I'd seen her mocking smile before but this wasn't that - there was an almost human warmth to this smile. Visions of my Nana swam into my mind once again. Kindness. Softness. Love. And when she spoke again, it was almost soft, the usual raspy edge to her voice almost all gone.
"I will do what you have asked of me, human child."
Now I was in full sob. There was no stopping it - sheer relief poured into my every cell, and coursed out of my tear ducts. My tiny body heaved and rocked with the force of the emotion. Relief.
It would finally be over.
The demon straightened up again, and seemed to grow in size. The menacing glow that lit my small room up grew in intensity, so much so that it hurt my eyes to look at it, and I had to bring my hand up to cover my face. When I could bring it down again, she was gone.
It took me no more than a minute to realise I wasn't in pain any more either. The welts on my back remained, but the pain had gone with her. The scab I'd been fondling had disappeared, the scar below red and fresh but not painful any more.
Someone was knocking at the front door. I heard my mother answer it. Muffled voices. Growing in volume. Getting closer. I drew inwards out of sheer habit as they approached my door.
But instead of it being thrown open violently like usual, there was instead a gentle knocking. A familiar knock. I blinked hard. Could it be?
The door swung slowly inward, almost filling the space. It never quite opened all the way, there wasn't room for that, though there was an impressive gouge in the plaster where it had been repeatedly rammed into the wall in their haste to get it out of the way so they could get at me. The door slotted into it perfectly. With the room dark and the hall beyond bright the figure beyond was just a silhouette, but I recognised her instantly all the same.
Nana was here. She had something in her hand. And someone was behind her. She reached into my tiny space and carefully, gently, lifted me out, and I saw that the person behind her was in a police uniform. They both had the same look on their face, the one the demon had had right before she left. I couldn't read it. It wasn't one I'd seen before. She held out the thing in her hand; paper, with lots of writing on it, held it out to the police officer with her who did that fast reading that grown-ups do and nodded before handing it back. Then she looked straight at me.
"Okay kiddo? Your Nana is going to look after you from now on. I'm going to stay here and have a little talk with your mum and dad, okay?"
I never had to go home again. I never saw the demon again either - I often wondered if she got in trouble for giving me what I wanted without a soul anyway. But it didn't matter, not now. | While waiting a dark and dingy lounge of the Demon Inc, I was thinking what my lawyer said "This might be valid contract that you own bully's soul, but whether you will be entitled to the benefits (tangible or intangible) coming out of deal with the demon is debatable. The law is not very clear on this. It might happen that Bully is actually true recipient of the benefits. Our legal system has always been scared of demons since they always bring bad luck, hence no concrete law has been made. It is generally left to the discretion of the demon to decide who is the real benefactor in such cases. However, the bully can always challenge you in the court and demons, historically, don't interfere because they feed on the agony and distress such court cases cause."
I was in deep thought on how will this meeting go? More important question was what should I ask for in return? I had some ideas but had to first gauge what CDO (Chief Deal Officer) of Demon Inc had in mind. What value did he see in the soul of a bully?
Suddenly, the announcement happened "token number 621, please proceed to the conference room 5". This was me. A chill went down my spine. I am only 12 years old and going to make my first ever deal that too with Demon Inc, the most notorious organization in the world. I was scared.
The conference room was dimly lit and on one end an old demon was sitting. He was just staring at me with a blank face. I just said hello and he directed me to sit on the chair across him.
He said "so young man, you are too young to forget the word of lord. Why so? Don't you have trust in your god or you are too young to understand his miraculous ways?"
I was not ready for this. I just wanted a simple trade which I was promised. I was not ready for a spiritual discussion. I said "I thought we were going to discuss what I will get in return for the soul. I already emailed the details and was told that this meeting is for negotiating final terms"
He laughed and said "Ofcourse young man. I was just trying to break the ice. I like how you want to get to the point so soon. Ok. So tell me what you want. You do know that I might allocate your wish to the true soul owner too, right? So don't be too greedy and be reasonable in your ask"
I nodded and felt uneasy at his mention of allocation of wish to the true owner. I was hoping that this point won't come during the discussion.
I cleared my thought and said "I want to be never bullied in my life. Nor me or any of my family members till eternity. I have had enough with my lunch money being taken away by these bullies. This needs to stop. So please grant me this wish and in return I offer you the soul of the worst bully I ever met in my life."
The CDO smiled at me and said "Don't you want to become bully too? I mean what's better than bullying the whole world?"
I got puzzled. I didn't think about this. But I also remembered that Demons play tricks. They trick you into bad things that can have adverse effect, so I said "No, after being at the receiving end of it, I have no intention of becoming a bully. I just want to be safe whole my life".
"Fair enough", the CDO got up and started walking in the room. He said "but you see this is not how things work. I am removing an obstacle from your life, in return I will have to add another obstacle in your life. Especially in your case, since I am not even getting your soul to torture or do whatever with it, it has to be a zero sum game. You understand that right?"
I nodded.
He continued, "this is precisely the reason that sometimes the benefits, in such kind of trade, are handed over to the true owner of the soul because that maintains the balance of the universe. So unless you opt for a sin or, to put it out mildly, agree for something bad to happen in your life, I can't agree to your demand."
I started thinking. What is not so important in life? Family, parents, friends, money, education, xbox, iPhone, health?
He figured that I was confused, so he said "You don't have to tell me right away. You can come back later and we can have one more meeting." But I didn't want to wait so I said "I want to be a bully. I don't want to lose anything in life. Fuck it. This is hard".
Before I could finish, I passed out on the floor and when I got up in the hospital few hours later, I had a signed agreement in my hand stating that "I, my family, and any of my offsprings will never be bullied till eternity. In return, I have agreed to become a bully for life. Since all the deals of Demon Inc are constitutionally required to have zero sum impact on the universe, my family and all my future offsprings will also be bullies."
I choked when I read that. I didn't agree to this. It was never disclosed to me. But it was too late. Demon Inc has not customer service and agreement can't be challenged in any court of law.
I was a bully now and we were a family of bullies. "Go fuck youself now!" | 2021-03-27T02:54:56 | 2021-03-27T01:43:59 | 58 | 13 |
[WP] You have just been abducted by a UFO. While you are figuring out what just happened to to you, a frantic alien bursts into the room. "You have no idea how many rules I'm breaking, but my Human Studies final is tomorrow and I need help." | One moment he'd been stargazing and the very next he was among them. He hadn't noticed it happen initially. William had been seated next to his brother Waylon on the hillside as they usually were on Tuesday nights, smoking and snacking as they talked about the cosmos. The two of them had always had a fascination with the stars, even before they had been told that their real father had died in deep space. The two of them didn't necessarily want to become astronauts or astrologists in any kind of way, but they shared a quiet admiration once a week for the stars and the ghosts of stars that littered the violet dark tapestry woven high over their heads and far out of their reach.
Until now.
William turned from the starry window out to space and surveyed his surroundings. Everything from the walls to the fixtures of the room was dyed a creamy white hue that was calming to look at and yet aesthetically beautiful and neat. He looked down at himself and then around the room for his brother.
"Waylon?" He called out, a lost tone on his lips. Had he not been stoned, he might have been panicking. But it was good stuff they'd bought, and his nerves failed to get the better of him. Before he could form another thought, a small being crashed through the door. Its features were alien in every measure of the meaning, but William was still able to discern that the creature was in peril and distress. And then it spoke... in English.
"You have no idea how many rules I'm breaking, but my Human Studies final is tomorrow and I need help!"
He looked down at the blunt in his hand with eyes wide before fixing his gaze back on his new acquaintance.
*Dammit, Waylon,* he thought. *This thing is laced with something else.*
The little being looked surprisingly similar to pop-culture aliens, which tipped William off that this certainly wasn't real. He firmly believed that aliens would be so fantastically different, so obscured from our wildest imaginations that we likely wouldn't know them when we first saw them as sentient beings. However this wasn't William's first time being taken on a ride he didn't sign up for, and he had the wisdom to go along with it rather than fight against it.
"Um... Alright, well... what do you want to know?" He asked before lifting the blunt back to his mouth only to find that its flame had been extinguished.
"Well," the little alien began, lifting its long index finger into the air and swiping it as though he were using a touchscreen interface. An opaque green line trailed from the end of his finger, and he pulled it open as though it were a backpack and removed from it a clipboard with a stack of papers clipped to it, as well as what appeared to be a writing utensil.
"Can you tell me what you're holding there? What is its purpose?"
William looked down at the half-finished blunt in his hand and thought carefully before responding.
"We have herbs on Earth that when burned and inhaled calm us, relax us, and allow us to forget the things that trouble us in the backs of our minds. For many of us, it allows us to break down creative barriers and think in a more unrestricted way."
"Wow," the little alien remarked as he jotted down a few notes. "Can... Can I try it?" He asked.
William couldn't help but smile, "This is, uhhh... a little strong for someone who's never tried it before. If I had something more measured, I'd be more than happy to share."
"Oh! So there are different levels of inebriation one can achieve from the herbs, and furthermore, you're implying that your species can develop some sort of tolerance to it."
William wiped his hair out of his eyes and nodded, "You're pretty quick. Yeah, our bodies are really adaptable."
"Incredible," he responded. "Alright, next question. What is it that drives a human forward? What do you all want? It would seem to us that your existences are mostly painful and difficult, yet only a handful of you choose to start your next life before your natural expiration. Why is this?"
William made a face and couldn't help but laugh at the little alien. "Wow. That's one way to put it, I guess. Well... for humans, it's not so much about running from strife but dealing with it. There's a satisfaction in overcoming hardship as difficult as that might be to believe. It's about to journey of life and the wisdom you gather from your many failures. I guess when it comes to what we want, it varies a lot. But I think all of us want love and security above anything else."
The alien's eyes lit up at the response. "Love!" It cried out.
"Why didn't I even think to ask?!" He slapped its own forehead. "So love is a word in your lexicon that we cannot understand. Could you elaborate?"
William pondered on this for a moment. To describe love to a creature that didn't understand it would be like describing purple to someone who was born blind.
"Love..." William started with an ounce of hesitation. "Words can't do it any justice if I'm being honest."
"With your limited human lexicon, I would imagine it would be difficult."
"Oh, zip it," William said with a smile. "It's an ineffable feeling, love. It's like wandering through a hundred miles long desert and finally getting a drink of water, but for your heart. Love transcends all languages and borders. It's an affection for someone that runs so deep that you feel as though you can't do without the source of your love."
"I still don't get it," the alien said flatly. "Do you love the other human you were spending your night with?"
"I do," William responded without hesitation. "He's my brother. I would do anything for him, and he would for me."
"Your brother... Oh!" The alien said with excitement, "I nearly forget that your people reproduce sexually! So you form lifelong bonds with your siblings!"
"That's right," William nodded as he turned and looked out the window at the constellations of stars that shined in distant space. "We were born into the world with one another. We overcame the same hardships together, looked out for each other, and felt one another's pain when either of us was sad or anguished. Our mother named us William and Waylon because wherever there's a Will, there's a Way."
The little alien lowered his clipboard and stared at William with soulful eyes.
"The two of us face our hardships together. We can weather any storm, scale any mountain, and cross the seven seas so long as we work together. And although we lost our father when we were young, we still see him in every star, and in every passing comet that comes across our telescope."
"That is..." The alien began as he stared at William. "That's the most... undecipherable concept I've ever heard."
"Aw come on!" William yelled at the little being. "I got all dramatic for you and everything, you seriously don't get it?"
"No," it responded, swiping its finger in the air the same as it had before, and stuffing its belongings back into the void from whence it was pulled. "But I really do appreciate your time."
The being walked towards the exit and lifted its hand towards the red button on the wall. It pressed the button firmly and red lighting shined upon the room suddenly. William looked around urgently and then down to the alien. It looked over its shoulder and nodded.
"They were going to perform a vivisection on you, human."
William gulped. That sounded a little too close to a dissection.
"But they can choose another human, I'm sure. Because where there's a William, there's a Waylon... right? Have a safe trip home, William."
He smiled at the little being as it left the room. For even if the concept of love seemed alien to the little creature, its final act gave William hope that it would someday be the first of its species to understand.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
I get a 15 minute break at work aside from my usual lunch break. I pick a prompt, spend a couple of minutes storyboarding, and then do as much as I can within the confines of my break.
If you enjoyed this, consider following me at r/A15MinuteMythos | It took me several minutes to stop screaming. I had woken up on a cold metallic gurney in a place full of screens and control panels with blinking buttons. The monster next to me kept telling me not to panic, which terrified me to my core. Watching its strange mouth contort only to hear a young man's voice jarred me a little. It was too... normal for his appearance. He had the head of a purple fish, except without any gills, and the trunk of a small elephant for a nose.
As soon as I calmed down, I jumped off the gurney and ran out of the room. Obviously. The fact that I wasn't tied up surprised me a little. This place was completely unfamiliar to me. After running down a series of hallways, a mechanical voice greeted me to an observation lounge, where a huge rectangular window, three times my height, opened up to show me Earth in the distance.
I felt dizzy for a moment. This was a spaceship. How the hell did I get here? All I remembered was grading papers in my office before a bright green light startled me through the window, knocking me out. At the time, I was bored out of my mind and would’ve done anything to end the monotony. This wasn’t what I had in mind, though.
A metallic door slid open behind me with a beeping whirr. It was the monster, which I now assumed was an alien. He seemed really nervous and twitchy, shuffling up on his tentacles with a deferential posture to say:
"You have no idea how many rules I'm breaking, but my Human Studies final is tomorrow and I need help."
I squinted. That’s it? A test? "Kidnapping is illegal on Earth too, you know."
"S-sorry… I'll make it worth your while!"
"Really? How?"
The alien pulled out a weird tablet. "This is an artificial intelligence several magnitudes stronger than anything on your planet. The things you could do with it are unthinkable. Stock market predictions, instructions to assemble robot butlers, it can even run Crysis!"
"You know about Crysis but need my help?"
"Oh, I know all about your culture, in particular your me-mees. It's why I signed up for the class in the first place. Unfortunately, my final is about the boring stuff."
I sighed. This was the equivalent of a weeb taking a Japanese history class and expecting to be graded on their anime knowledge. It also reminded me of a few students I've had throughout the years, desperate for a quick solution to their problems without addressing their lack of discipline. I chuckled, stifling my laughter. Perhaps it was time to teach this young alien the lesson he truly needed to learn. I cleared my throat and said:
"Very well, what do you need from me?"
"Just a few questions."
"Fine."
"Great!" The alien sat near a table in the middle of the room and gestured at me to join him. "First things first, how did your civilization start?"
"It all began when Zeus, god of the Olympians, murdered his father, Chronos, allowing humanity to exist."
The alien curled his trunk, skeptical. "Gods?"
"They obviously weren't divine. These were the aliens that originally seeded our planet. Didn't you study that? Even humans know it. It's a scientific fact."
"R-right. I forgot. Was this before or after the Jesus thing?"
"Before. Way before."
"On the Jesus thing, why exactly was he killed?"
"The romulans, who were alien descendants of the Olympians, felt threatened when he offered their Caesar a joint and told him to calm down."
"A... joint?"
"It's a way of consuming cannabis. Human diplomacy runs on it."
The alien nodded along, excited. "I see, I see. The bible sure sounds more interesting than I expected."
"Do you know what they call someone who likes the bible? It's a very important term in the book."
The alien shook his head.
"Gullible."
"Gullible, eh? I like it! I guess I'm a bit gullible and didn't even know it!" The alien paused for a second. "That's how you use the word, right? My translator is a bit wonky."
I smiled. "Your usage was perfect."
"Final question, and this is a personal one... What is a 'little pogchamp'?"
I narrowed my eyes. "An embarrassment."
"I see. Well, thanks for all the questions. Want me to drop you off at your home?"
"That would be great."
I tried my best to act normal. That tablet might actually be capable of grading the papers for me. It might even earn me an early retirement. If he learned the truth before we got back, he could take it away from me or, even worse, shoot me out into space. I sat down and enjoyed the view as the ship entered the atmosphere. Then, after the grateful alien dropped me off on the sidewalk, I waved him goodbye, saying:
"I hope you learn something from this and don't do it again!"
--------
>If you enjoyed this, please consider checking out /r/WeirdEmoKidStories for more prompt responses or [Shotgun Fantasy](https://www.reddit.com/r/WeirdEmoKidStories/comments/exa1om/wp_the_humans_were_always_disregarded_due_to/) for an action web serial. Thanks for reading! | 2021-01-22T09:55:54 | 2021-01-22T08:48:26 | 1,825 | 243 |
[WP] Jigsaw unwittingly captures Deadpool with his next group of victims | John Kramer was frowning at the flickering monitors in front of him. His wrinkled lips pursed against the rim of his tea mug, and his gnarled fingers tapped a steady pattern on the keyboard in front of him as he scrolled through the footage. He had only just returned from a casual trek to the supermarket for food, and upon first glance, the screens had shown him little more than he had expected. Bodies. Splayed out on top of blooming puddles of blood, dangling from deftly slipknotted ropes, scattered in pieces across rooms, riddled with holes. And that was fine. At least, it would have been, but...
"Where are you, Mister Wilson?" he mused. The screens flashed from one room to another with each tap of his fingers. In the maze there were two corpses: the oily-smooth assassin-for-hire and some meathead that worked as muscle for a local crime syndicate. The meathead had lasted longer than he had anticipated. He suspected that he and the hitman had developed some sort of team--a useful mesh of brain and brawn. But they hadn't anticipated the swinging arc of razor-sharp steel that had descended from the ceiling, (a rip-off from Poe if there ever was one, but after so many years, John was beginning to experience a lack of inspiration), and now the two lay in twin heaps of bloody chunks.
There was the corrupt general who took a little too much pleasure in collecting spoils of war, unspooled in ribbons from his long fall into a pit of metal wire. The robber had gotten the back of his head opened up by a particularly nasty exit wound. Part of John wanted to dismiss Wade's absence as a simple lack of camera coverage, since the whole area was dark and dingy and brimming with tight little crevasses that he could have crawled into to die with some remaining dignity, but he was a careful man. He had to be. In his line of work, carelessness either left you dead or imprisoned.
With a sigh, he gathered up the black cloak on his desk and fished out his pig's mask from his satchel. It was time to clear out the bodies anyway. Left too long, the corpses would stink, bloat, and, in one particularly memorable case, burst from a perfect storm of heat and the buildup of gases. That hadn't been fun to clean up. Before he could fit the mask onto his face, however, the door to his office exploded open with a bang.
*"Honey,"* an infuriatingly snide voice sang out. "I'm *hooooooome."* John lurched into action and moved to snatch up the revolver on his desk, but he was cut short with a cry as a blade of glass whipped through the air and buried itself deep in his wrist. "Really? A fucking gun? I made it through all that bullshit and you're just going to shoot me? I mean, it's efficient, but kind of..." A flayed-looking hand reached up to scratch thoughtfully at a chin that was thick with scar tissue. "...I don't know. Anticlimactic?"
"I don't understand," John choked out. "I saw you--I saw you get caught in the grinder--" He jerked back in surprise as Wade fished something fleshy out from the pocket of his leather jacket. It was a hand, contorted into a very rude gesture. Three of the fingers were shredded. His other pocket, John saw, was bristling with shards of glass.
"Yeah. I wanted to talk to you about that."
*"What are you?"* John hissed.
"Definitely *not* your friendly neighborhood Spider Man. None of that sticky stuff. But I am really good at coming back from the dead. Maybe I'm Jesus." His gnarled face slackened into a scandalized "o". "Fuck. You're not religious, are you?"
"But how did you--"
"No traps in the air vents? Have you even *seen* any spy movies? I thought you were taking cues from Bond villains, all monologuey and whatever." Wade tossed the hand to the side. "Lucky for me, you can only lose your right hand so many times before you become ambidextrous. So this is still going to be fun and easy, but it definitely won't be quick. We have a lot to talk about." He brought his intact fingers over to the stub of his right arm and pressed the knuckles hard against his sleeve, where they popped obediently. Wade rolled his eyes. "Can't even get a menacing knuckle-crack in. Doing it one-handed kind of cheapens the effect, huh?"
John thinned his lips and stood rigid with determination. "Do what you must," he said. "I've dedicated the last years of my life to sending a message to the world. It's been received. I can die fulfilled." In the shadows of the doorway, John thought he saw Wade's mangled brow furrow in thought.
"Last years of your life," he repeated. Then, a terribly grim smile stretched his mouth. "Tumor?" he said delicately, and John grimaced.
"Yes."
Wade heaved a sympathetic sigh. "Boy, do we have a lot in common. Incurable diseases, punishing evildoers. I thought you were some run-of-the-mill psycho until I started talking to those lunatics in there. What a bunch of gaping assholes. You know, we probably could have been buddies if you hadn't gone and tried to kill me. I kind of take that shit personally. And the doll thing--that's weird, man. Anyway." He tugged a long shard of glass from the pocket of his coat, and John cringed away as he began to approach. "You owe me a hand, naughty boy. But I'm willing to bet yours won't grow back." | There is nothing to be seen in a dark, damp room but the dim glow of static coming from an old television set. Six individuals awake in the room, dizzy and discombobulated at the sound of a screech coming from the television.
"What the hell is going on?" and "Where are we?" are among the several phrases emitted from the disoriented people standing in the room. They knew nothing aside from a cold chain around their feet.
"Hello everyone."
The static display on the television makes a sudden change to a puppet-like character.
"I wanna play a game."
"Each one of you is here because you have a connection with drugs.
Philip Black, you are a Psychologist that has been taking bribes in order to write prescriptions to consumers for otherwise unattainable medications.
Daniel Smith, you are a lead scientist in an illegal pharmaceutical division that specializes in the development of new, and dangerous drugs.
Wade Wilson, you are a drug salesman, smuggler, and heavy user yourself.
Martha Walters, you are a capital investor in illegal drug firms, benefiting from sales across the globe.
Sarah White, you are a chemistry teacher who uses her knowledge for financial gain by illegally using your knowledge of the elements to make and sell otherwise illegal substances.
Elizabeth Roberts, you as well as Wade, are known for your consistency in both delivering and abusing drugs.
Drugs are destroying brilliant minds in this world by poisoning their thoughts, and robbing their freedom. I am here to cleanse you six, in hopes that once you leave here today, you will spread this message."
A blinding white flash took over the room, as the six open their eyes to see the lights have been turned on, revealing six steel contraptions in the room, in the shape of crates.
"Before you lies your opportunity to a free life, but not without pain and suffering, the same pain and suffering you six have brought to those in this world that have lost their jobs, loved ones, and lives. In front of you six is a container. Inside that container is a key, a key that will let you, and only you, free from your chain. You may then exit the room through the door."
"To unlock the container, each one of you will have to inhale twenty grams of benzoylmethylecgonine, or as some of you may refer to as Cocaine, over the next twelve hours. You will find your containers equipped with a tube to compensate your needs."
"Your time starts now"
The television returns to static. After a long pause of silence as the contestants sit in disbelief as they process what has just occurred, Wade Wilson exclaims...
"Fuck. Yes."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
First writing prompt submission. Looking for feedback and criticism! I reaaaaally wanted to include a fourth wall break somewhere in there, but I couldn't because it just felt too forced no matter what I tried.
*edited some stupid grammar mistakes | 2016-06-27T17:52:27 | 2016-06-27T15:50:32 | 559 | 229 |
[WP] Famine is an arrogant, greedy asshole. War is a brute, violent man. Conquest is a cruel sadist. But Death? Death is actually pretty chill. | When the world ends, the four rides out. When all ends, the four are there. The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. The first rider, on the white horse, is Conquest. Conquest breaks the souls of others, makes them venal and small. Turns heroes into self-righteous crusaders, turns good men into petty hedonists, and takes a deep pleasure in the cruelty, apathy, and hopelessness that spreads as they ride through the lands. Wherever they go, corruption follows, men are conquered into greed and sin, and all high ideals are cast aside in exchange for cheap thrills and cruel joy.
The red rider, is War. They kill without discrimination, for the sheer horrible enjoyment of it. They love to kill soldiers on the battlefield, and they enjoy butchering civilians. Where there are cities to loot, children to impale on spikes, bones to break, or blood to be shed, there War seeks to be at all times. To pillage and exploit the victims of battles makes them pleased, to enslave others and press them into battle, is like sex to them. They go wherever they can, and break civilisation down, until nothing but the most primitive instinct to crush and destroy exists.
The rider on the black horse, is Famine. And they are cunning. They are the voice in the back of your mind insisting that you are still fat, no matter what the mirror or the scale says. They are the greedy, horrible thing that takes from others. They are the hoarding of necessary food and resources, that leaves markets bare for when the next customers comes. They are the scream for more and more, to fill a hunger inside that cannot end, a hunger that no matter how much is owned, nor how much is consumed, can never be sated. And all one can show from such hunger, is how others will go hungry and sick. Such is famine.
The last rider, is the one who rides behind. The pale horse and the name of he who sat upon it, was Death. And Death rides not like the wind as the other horsemen, not towards every battle, every corruption, every greedy act, Death's horse trots a steady, slow pace throughout the universe. For Death does not command or corrupt, Death does not manipulate or masticate. Death comes, and Death leads the dead on. Death does not need to hurry. After all, Death is always present, even on a microscopic scale where simple life dies, or to even when ideas or worlds die. He is always there.
And he never judges. He never harms. All he does, is lead you to where you are going next. He takes no joy in his work. It is not pleasure he seeks, or destruction, merely to do his duty. And do it well. He is a comfort for those in great pain. When the corruption that follows in Conquest's wake leads to the failure of public hospitals, he leads the little dead children out to fields where there are games, fun, sunshine, tasty food, and friends. When the victims succumb to War's wake, they find the soft peaceful beaches where Death leads them, and offers them the silent places, where none shall ever hurt them again. When Famine strikes, and people take, leaving the old to die, he is there, and he takes them to see their families, so long gone, so long missed.
To some he is bliss. To others he is peace. But most importantly, he comes for us all. Even his fellow horsemen will one day die, and he shall calmly lead them away to wherever dead concepts go. He never needs to hurry, for your appointment with him was written long before you ever died. Perhaps even before you were born. For he is Death, the leveller of all, and when creation itself enters heat death, he will be there. And he shall fold up the universe ever so neatly, and take it to where universes go when they end. But for now, he waits patiently, and walks behind the other horsemen, and those who are trampled under hoof by the first three, are picked up and carried away by the fourth.
[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/) | I often look at the others, sitting around the table as we play with the fates of mortals.
Famine aims for the poor, the vulnerable. Those that cannot resist him, those that can be pushed over the edge with little effort. He claims it is the natural order, that those worthy of life will survive, that money and power are survival traits, claiming more is always right.
War tries to intimidate us, his fine pressed suit stretched tightly across his body revealing the strength of iron. He tries to play it down, his scarred visage and styled hair giving him a roguish attitude. It would be easy to say no to him, he might even forgive you.
Conquest, that man has it all. The wealth, the power all flow to the eventual winner; as long as you keep changing sides you can never lose. Pleasure is simply what you can take, money, land, people, none of them are useful other than as symbols of wealth.
​
Me, mmmh how to describe death. I'm fine, everything comes to me eventually. "I call." | 2020-04-09T14:23:53 | 2020-04-09T13:58:41 | 171 | 19 |
[WP] You are turning into Nicolas Cage. The Doctors say there is no cure. You have days at most to set your affairs in order. | “It’s going to be fine, I promise,” she said. She grabbed her husband’s hand tight. “No matter what.”
The large wooden door swung open. The doctor walked in and smiled at them.
“Good morning you two,” he said, taking a seat at the large desk. He placed the folder he had brought in with him down and opened it.
“The results came back,” he said. The doctor’s somber tone sent chills down Jake’s spine. “I’m sorry, but the test was positive”
“There has to be a mistake,” Jake said. “It just..it just can’t be.”
“The accuracy of these tests is irrefutable,” the doctor responded. “Your symptoms are all in line with what we would suspect at this particular point in time.”
“It’s my fault,” Nancy cried out. “I knew I never should have gotten him the director’s cut.”
“Actually he’s been converting for some time now,” the doctor said. He thumbed through the pages inside the folder. “Do you know when you first may have come into contact with the Cage?”
“Well there was the time back in 95,” Jake said, looking at his wife. “Steve’s bachelor party in Vegas, you remember?”
His wife stared at him blankly. Her eyes began to widen. “No,” she muttered. Her lips began to quiver.
“They had an early screening for Leaving Las Vegas,” Jake said. “But I was drunk. We were all drunk. I don’t even remember it.”
“From the diagnostics ran yesterday, I would say this was when it entered your blood steam,” the doctor said. “This has been in effect for quite some time. Why it’s rapidly expanding now, we just don’t know.”
“How did I miss this for so long?” Jake asked. “That’s almost 20 years, doc.”
“There’s no way you could have known you were going to contract it. The Cage likes to make its way into your system covertly. It is a mystery amongst the medicine field just how.”
“Is there a cure?” Nancy asked. Tears beginning to roll down her face.
“Due to the rapid expansion, there isn’t any time. It’s best to get your affairs in order before the emersion is complete,” the doctor said.
“Is it contagious?” She asked. “Am I in danger?”
“At this time, I can’t comment on that for sure. But just to be on the safe side I would avoid anything related to Fast Times, or Moonstruck. This may decelerate the process,” the doctor said. “But at all costs, you must avoid anything resembling a scroll. This includes parchment, or hemp.”
“What will happen once I’m, well, you know,” Jake said. “*him*.”
“Unfortunately, there isn’t much we can tell you. To minimize the after effects, I’ve prescribed these,” The doctor said. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a bottle of pills and set them in front of his patients. “For when it becomes too much.”
Nancy looked at her husband. Tears steadily rolling down her face. Jake stared emptily at the ground.
“I’m sorry, I’ll give you two a minute,” the doctor said as he stood up to leave the room.
“It’s okay, we will work through this,” Nancy said. “I’m here for you.”
“Right now I just want to go home,” Jake said. “But there’s something I’m going to need your help with.”
“Of course honey, anything,” Nancy cried out.
“We’re going to steal the Declaration of Independence.”
| Though I was told that there were yet several days until the Cage Virus concluded its transformation of my body and mind, I no longer desire to struggle against its effects.
Most affected by the virus have had some natural resistance to it; they've continued their lives with an amount of normalcy, merely becoming prone to rash investments into Real Estate, irreconcilable anger over perceived incompetence, bee-related paranoia...
I will not fight my transformation, however. I will embrace it.
*They* respond with counseling, medicine, and new marriage partners, yet create only conflict.
Me?
*I'm gonna steal the Declaration of Independence.* | 2014-09-01T11:36:43 | 2014-09-01T11:32:11 | 24 | 15 |
[WP] You are a teenager with the ability to measure how "Dangerous" people are on a scale from 1 to 10 just by looking at them. A normal child would be a 1, while a trained man with an assault rifle might be a 7. Today, you notice the unassuming new kid at school measures a 10. | I've seen a lot of tens. It's scary, really, how quickly people can go from six or even five to ten. Other people don't realize how much danger surrounds them every day. It takes so little...
No, the tens aren't the ones that stay with you. Not for long, anyway. No, the one that will always be in my mind was something else entirely.
A zero.
She was the first zero I ever saw, and the only one until I watched my children be born. They eventually grew into little ones and twos, of course, but for a short, wonderful time, they were tiny, giggling bundles of zero. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
*She* was the first. Sarah. I was drawn to her from the moment I saw her, dangling her legs from a swing on the playground. How old could we have been? 12? 13, maybe. I wasn't really sure what the numbers meant then, but the lowest I'd ever seen was a one, so I knew she was something special. I stared at her from across the playground and she smiled at me, her entire face beaming zero. I'm telling you... they say Helen of Troy had a face that launched a thousand ships. Well, Sarah could make them come back home. If there ever was a face that could end wars, it was hers.
We were friends at first. I was terrified of ruining it by saying too much, but the words I wanted to say ran laps through my head every time I saw her. Then, on a hot summer night that was made for drunken mistakes, I said them anyway. And guess what? She felt the same way.
When I think about my kids, I don't want them to be rich. I don't want them to be famous. I just want them to feel what I felt back there on that summer night, because I know that if they find someone to share that moment with, they'll be happy for the rest of their lives.
Where was I? Oh, yeah. After that night, me and Sarah were one. We went through the rest of high school. College. We got married and got nice jobs. Bought a house. Got kids. Everything was perfect... for a while.
Something was going on with Sarah. I first noticed it one Saturday morning when she was doing the laundry. She'd been doing long hours at work all week and wasn't feeling very well, so I offered to do the laundry. She looked up at me then and smiled faintly, but something was off. Instead of the clear, bright zero I was so used to seeing, she was flashing a faint one. The next moment, she was back to zero. I was stunned at first, but managed to convince myself it was nothing. She'd had a tough week, that was all.
The next time, we were having dinner with the kids. She wasn't behaving like her usual self, and she gave off a dull, weak three, like she was trying desperately to calm down. When I asked her if something was wrong, she mumbled something about an asshole at work. I wanted to dig deeper, but I had to take care of the kids. I asked her again later, but she clammed up completely. Everything about it was so unlike her.
I racked my brain for weeks trying to find out what was wrong. Was it something I'd done? Was she about to get fired? And the unthinkable: was she sick? But why wouldn't she tell me? I thought we had no secrets. I'd always told her everything! Well... apart from the numbers. She'd think I was mad.
Then, one day, I found out the truth.
It was early Friday morning. She never came home Thursday night. I was in bed, staring at the ceiling and running the same thoughts over and over through my mind. Imagining the worst. Was I going to get a call from the police? The hospital? I considered calling them to see if she was there.
I heard a car pull up at our driveway. I didn't have to look; it was her. I listened to her opening the door. Taking off her shoes, walking up the stairs - was something off about her steps? - putting her hand on the door handle. In the dead silence, I heard her take a deep breath on the other side. The door clicked and swung open, and there she was.
She'd been crying. She wore her work clothes, but they were a bit ruffled and wrinkly. She looked at me with an expression I'd never seen her wear before. Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. She drew another breath, short and shallow, and her lips slowly parted.
"We need to talk."
Her voice sounded muffled in my ears, like it was coming from far away. From someone else. She remained in the doorway, not saying a word. I didn't either. I just looked at her. *Sarah*. There she was, standing in our bedroom on the second floor of our house. In the rooms across the hall, our children were sleeping.
I watched her standing there, and she looked back at me, her face screaming a hot, burning ten. | "I'm Michael," he said as he stuffed text books into his locker.
I wasn't sure what to do. He was a ten. The only ten I'd seen was my dad and he'd been locked away. It was his number that brought back the painful memories of my childhood. He would come home every night drenched with the stench of cigarettes, beer, and anger. After years and years of slamming doors, punching walls and his wife, he was finally gone. I remember when the news came out about his other family too, his secret family. Or perhaps we were the secret family, but I suppose I'll never know. It was only the day of his trial when I found out he had murdered them all. It was only a matter of time before it was us, said the prosecutor.
The numbers indicate how dangerous someone can be. Two is my little sister, who just learned how to walk. Five is my mother who once hit a bird on the way home from school and couldn't stop crying for hours. Generally kids in my school were a four, five, or six. I'd met a teacher once that was an eight. He was arrested for murder that year.
I continued to empty the contents of my bag into my locker, only a few feet away from the Ten. I glanced into the mirror magnetized to the inside of the locker door. Over my head, there was a nine. I wasn't sure what I had done to deserver that number, but perhaps it wasn't what I'd done, but what I would do.
"I'm sorry," I said, slinging my backpack on my shoulder. "What did you say your name was?"
"Michael Carson," he answered as he flashed a smile and extended his hand.
Some would say I had a gift, and I would agree. But no one ever said I had to be the good guy here. I didn't ask for this, but the numbers never lie. The sooner I accept it, the better.
"Nice to meet you Michael, I'm Susannah," I replied as I placed my hand in his and shook. I had a feeling we'd be friends for a while. | 2014-11-29T14:12:40 | 2014-11-29T13:16:01 | 714 | 36 |
[WP] Humans aren't actually mortal. Upon suffering fatal damage, they are shown the entire future of humanity and given the option to heal or to accept death. Everyone picks option two. | Twelve minutes. Twelve minutes before Amy's plane leaves. She was beautiful. A red headed beauty who was twelve minutes from leaving my life forever. I hurled my motorcycle through the night. It had never gone this fast. I had to make it and tell this woman how I felt. I was nothing without her.
100 MPH, the rain hitting my hands stung like bees. 110 MPH, a horn blared as I darted around a car going far too slow for my love. 120 MPH, images of me sweeping Amy up in my arms filled my head. 0 MPH, the truck I collided with's hood ripped my head from my body.
The world went black. Somehow, I knew I was dead. I always assumed that there was either some big bright light, or simply nothing at all. A combination of nothing and my continued consciousness confused me deeply.
"Come on, open your eyes." A voice said. It was incredibly bored.
Light came back to me. I had eyes. Luckily, my ghost still had its head. So many horror movies had it wrong. I looked exactly as I did when I woke up this morning. Shaggy hair, lean body, no clothes. Being naked was surprising, but it wasn't embarrassing. It felt...natural. Around me was a vast meadow. Neatly trimmed grass as long as I could see. The only thing that broke the scenery was an old naked man standing before me. His hair was greyed and hung down to his buttocks. He, also, did not seem to be embarrassed by his nudity.
"Who are you?" I asked.
"Doesn't matter. Get up."
"What happened to me?"
"You all ask these questions, and I'm tired of them. Hundreds of you, every minute, and I have to answer these same damned questions every time."
"You don't have to be so rude."
"You're right, I choose to. Now, come on. We need to make your choice before I move you on."
"My choice?"
Yes. Everyone who dies gets the choice to come back or move on. Now, if you follow me, we can make your choice and we can move you on."
"I choose to come back! Of course! I need to see Amy!"
"You don't get to choose yet. Come on, get up and follow me."
Deciding that there was no arguing, I stood up and followed the rude naked man. We walked for what seemed like hours until we came upon a large tree. In the center of the tree was a screen. The oddity of a screen embedded in a large tree didn't seem to bother me for some reason. The afterlife seemed filled to the brim with oddities that I didn't care about.
"Look into the screen. In it you will first see what will happen if you are brought back to the world of the living. After that, you will see what will happen if you don't."
"I don't care what will happen if I don't go back. Send me back, now!"
"Hold you damned horses, kid. No one gets out of here without watching the video first."
The old man waved his hand and the screen in the tree came to life. In it I saw my wake up on the side of the freeway. Bruised, but not decapitated. I shouted a thanks towards the heavens and hopped back on my bike. It was two minutes before Amy was scheduled to leave that I arrived at the airport. The look on her face brought me to my knees. Pure overwhelming joy as I ran to her in the airport. My heart was bursting.
Then, the screen showed me what happened after the airport. Amy and I laying in bed together, the distance between us seemed like miles. She had grown resentful of me. The job opportunity I cost her weighed on her mind at all times. She saw her friends one by one become successful in their fields as she and I stagnated in the trailer that we couldn't afford. Instead of bringing happiness to our lives, our children were ill behaved and destroyed what remaining happiness we had. Eventually, in that trailer, Amy took her life. She did not decide to come back.
The screen went black for a moment. I began to raise my voice, but the old man raised a finger to silence me. The screen, once again, came to life. This time, my corpse lay on the side of the road for thirty minutes before the ambulance arrives. No one bothers with pronouncing me dead, they simply collect my parts into a medical garbage bag. Amy, upon hearing the news, was devastated. She sat in her new apartment in Chicago and wept. We were going to make it work long distance she thought, just long enough for me to follow her. Now, that future was gone. I saw a large muscular man, Brad, take special interest in her misery. Brad slowly, gently, coaxed Amy out of mourning. They spent all of there time together, eventually getting married. Amy had not thought of me in years by the time they had their first child. Their house was constantly full of joy. In this life, Amy passed at the ripe old age of 92. She chose not to come back, because that would mean more time without Brad, whom she had lost three years earlier.
The screen went black, and in its reflection I saw my ghost, crying.
"I don't want to go back."
"No? You were so eager to just minutes ago."
"That's changed, old man. Take me to...wherever I go after this."
In a bright flash, my spirit passed on, forty-five minutes after my body. I wouldn't have it any other way.
I love you, Amy.
"Why do you always show them only the bad if they go back?" A voice asked from behind the tree.
"To spare them from the pain in that world. Better to be in ours, where love and pain don't exist, than to have to experience all that hate in their world."
A man stepped out from behind the tree. He looked exactly like the old man sitting at its base, except eons younger. Where the old man was wrinkled he was firm. His short black hair starkly contrasted the old mans long grey mane.
"I think your view point is...limited. How many of these poor souls have you shown this same scenario? How many have given their lives for another?"
"...Most." Begrudgingly.
"Do you not want what they're so willing to give their precious gift of life for?"
"...I suppose I do."
"Then, go back. I can handle it from here."
The old man stayed where he for just a moment. Then, his muscles relaxed, as if he was shrugging off some great burden. In a dazzling white light, the old man disappeared from the tree. Somewhere, on that tiny blue world, the old man awoke, eager to find someone that he might be willing to move on for.
Edit: I accidentally some words | "I mean I guess you *could* . . ."
The specter of death loomed over the hospital bedside railing. It was exactly - exactly as they said it would be. Long ratty black robes. A moldering hood that shadowed it's entire face in impenetrable blackness. His scythe he almost immediately put down and leaned against the door. Thing looked like it weighted a ton and he wasn't exactly quick on his feet.
"Heal up completely right?"
"Well, I mean . . . you wont die."
I nodded. It was what I wanted. Not to die.
"We can stay here as long as you like."
It definitely didn't seem like he was in much of a hurry. He had just sort of showed up a week ago and parked himself in one of the sun-bleached chairs near the window that I suppose were meant for visitors. Didn't say much. No one seemed to mind. He even moved his bony feet out of the way when the lady came by on Wednesdays with the vacuum.
"Healed up."
He nodded. Tipped his hood slightly forward.
"Fit as ever."
"Alright then. Let's do that."
"Okay." I had no idea what he was staring at but it wasn't me. Not that I could see his eyes or anything. He would just tune out like that. When it wasn't being engaged directly it just sort of faced away. Stared out into the middle distance at nothing in particular.
"My . . . uh." It turned again. There was no chill to it. No coldness in the air, no icy wind to it's gaze. It felt stale and empty. Like the surface of the moon and the silence of space. Not a very friendly conversationalist.
"My . . . my family's coming to visit tomorrow."
No reaction.
"They're coming up for the holidays."
Still nothing.
"I don't suppose . . . *you* have much family."
I don't know what I was expecting it just felt good to talk. It felt like forever since I had a real conversation with someone. A lot of the time I find conversations to just be confusing. Hard to follow more like it. They start talking about one thing and before you know it they're talking about something else and I've lost the thread of it. I'm not as young as I used to be.
Still, it was something. More than just answering doctor's questions or being compliant for the nurses by turning over when they asked or doing my best to stay upright as they walked me to the toilet. I would have taken just about anything from the nightmarish statue of death. Some casual banter. Some cryptic profundity. Anything really.
"Tomorrow." The bedsheets knotted tight in my palms. Lately, I've been having a difficult time unclenching my hands. The nurses had been reminding me, or rather, I had been reminding *them*. "We're going to have turkey at Grandma's place."
God I loved the taste of turkey - and the way *she* made it. Oh, it was something special. I can't even remember the last time I had thanksgiving turkey.
"Tomorrow." I repeated more firmly, taking refuge in that. I had made sure there were fresh flowers by pestering the nurses who seemingly had to be corrected daily that they were coming. The last time they came they brought a photo of the whole family. I had it out on the bedside table. They put it there last time.
They would be here tomorrow. I had been making an effort to sit up more. Appear more presentable.
Death said nothing. Whenever I pressed him for specifics he would lackadaisically retreat into his airy permissive refrain. *Whenever you like.* I could go, 'whenever I like'. Just like that.
Whenever I like. | 2016-11-11T20:14:01 | 2016-11-11T17:21:17 | 518 | 151 |
[WP] Sobek, the half human half crocodile god of the Nile, surprised by a visit of Anubis,god of death. Anubis introduce Sobek to a human soul behind him, still dripping in seawater : "I thought you should meet this man,the living called him Steve Irwin" | **The Crocodile Hunted**
The opportunity was just too good to pass up. Too good I tell, ya. The way these human hunters look when they meet the gods of the things they hunt, oh boy it’s always a hoot. And Steve Freakin Irwin? Man I didn’t think I’d have this chance for a long time, that guy seemed invincible. I thought for sure I’d be introducing that weird Tiger King guy to Waghoba sooner. Waghoba? Oh yeah, ancient tiger god of India. That’s gonna be a good one.
Anyway. Stingray. Death. Boom, I’ve got Irwin.
I take him to Sobek, crocodile god, big gnarly fellow with a nasty face and a nastier attitude. No seriously, this guy once bit a guy’s head off for being too wet from the rain during his sacrifices.
So, of course, I had to bring him Irwin while he was still dripping. Sobek is also not exactly the sharpest croc in the bask (a group of crocs is called a bask, the more ya know), so he just got kind of mad at the dripping instead of recognizing the joke. That made it even better anyway.
I must admit here that I’m actually quite an Irwin fan. Most humans are afraid to live to out their dreams because of fear, all kinds of fear, but especially fear of death. Not this guy. So yeah, I’m a fan, and my favorite saying of his is: "Crocodiles are easy. They try to kill and eat you. People are harder. Sometimes they pretend to be your friend first."
What about half-human, half-crocs though?
Alright, Irwin’s dripping on the temple floor, and poof I disappear into the shadows. Sobek thinks I’ve left, but I wouldn’t miss this for the underworld.
Sobek clenches his scaly fists, looks at the high ceiling, and let’s out a mighty roar. It ripples across the surface of the river that runs through the temple. It’s pretty epic.
“Crikey!” Yeah, he *actually said crikey.* I couldn’t write this shit.
And with that, Sobek charges my little human. The correct response, of course, was for Irwin to bow. But a hunter never bows to its prey.
They dance around the temple for a few minutes. Sobek is bigger and stronger and more crocodil-y than Irwin, but wow, for a guy that’s never fought a god before, Irwin sure does hold his own. He’s quick and resourceful. Every time Sobek seems like he’s trapped Irwin, he manages to find an opening to slip through.
Finally Irwin maneuvers himself behind Sobek. Without a moment’s hesitation, he jumps onto his back, wraps his arms around Sobek’s massive neck, and squeezes with all his strength.
“Come on big fella, just take it easy, just take it easy fella.” There’s a kindness to it.
Sobek thrashes and jumps and claws and roars, tossing Irwin around like a rag doll, but it’s no use. That man just wouldn’t let go.
Finally, Sobek drops to his knees. He taps the ground three times in a sign of surrender.
Irwin lets go and slides to ground to sit beside the monster. They just sit there, together, panting.
“Crikey mate, you sure are a tough bugger. Always wondered if we’d meet.”
Sobek looks at him, a surprised look on his face. At least, as surprised as one can look with a crocodile head.
“Wanna have another go?”
___
RIP Steve Irwin – that guy’s a legend
r/stealthystorkstories | “Of course,” Sobek said, although he wasn’t particularly interested in the little humans with little lives. Anubis, however, demanded respect.
Anubis stepped aside, and a solid man with blond hair, clothed in utilitarian gear, stepped forward. He didn’t notice anything special about the man. His face was broad from a life lived with many smiles, but right now his expression was absolute shock.
Steve Irwin turned and stormed away. Sobek had never felt such absolute disrespect, and he looked, dumbfounded, to Anubis.
“You cannot leave my side,” Anubis said, concerned. Clearly, he’d expected a different outcome.
“It’s important!” Steve called back, “I need to tell the rest of those nasty buggers that this isn’t what ‘gorgeous!’ was supposed to mean to them!” | 2022-02-25T09:40:11 | 2022-02-25T06:59:02 | 1,127 | 61 |
[WP] Write a horror story where the protagonist just doesn't give a fuck.
Edit: Damn, this is now my most upvoted post. Thanks for all of your responses, they've been amazing! Good for a laugh or a two on this great Friday :) | "IÄ! IÄ!" the masked priest cried, lifting the sinuous dagger above his head. "SHUB-NIGGURATH! THE BLACK GOAT OF THE THOUSAND YOUNG, COME TO FEAST!"
The woman next to Jon tried to scream through her gag as the knife plunged into her breast once, twice. Then she lay still, her eyes full of tears but slowly going dull.
In the far distance, beyond curves of space and time unknown to man, there came a grunting and rumbling, as if formless beasts were somehow lumbering closer.
Jon would have yawned, if his mouth had been free.
"Do you hear?" the priest asked, leaning close to Jon. His eyes had the fevered gleam of mania in them. His scraggly beard tickled Jon's face as the priest leaned in even closer. "Our Mother comes. She shall tonight feast upon the cooling corpse of your friend, as you watch. Then, in the most exquisite depths of your madness, she shall take from you the seed which shall birth a new race of abominations, who shall devour you, their progenitor, as their first act of unlife in this pitiful reality!"
Jon worked the gag in his mouth and loosened it to the point where he could say, muffled though, "I don't know her."
"What's that?" the priest asked, loosening the gag even more.
"I said, I don't know her."
"But... on the bridge... we took the two of you..."
Jon sighed. "I was going to jump off the bridge and end my miserable life. I've got terminal brain cancer. Inoperable. My parents died last week in a car crash, and my father's girlfriend has a will that leaves everything to her. I'm broke. My girlfriend broke up with me because she can't deal with the cancer. I have no children. I hate my job. I hate my life. I have nothing to live for, and so I was just going to end it on my terms when that do-gooder you just sliced tried to talk me out of it. Your goons grabbed us as I was about to jump."
"So, er," the priest mumbled. "You do not care if you die in horrible, maddening agony?"
"I fucking welcome it, mate," Jon replied. "You say that these spawn of your goat whore mother will devour the world, ending it in an apocalypse of flame and blood?"
"Well, not in so many words. *Die Vermiis Mysteriis* is rather unclear on that point, but we take as an article of faith that the apocalypse will be..."
"Fucking Christ, you're like cosmic Mormons," Jon muttered. "Can you just fucking kill me, if you're going to prattle on about your fucked-up theology?"
"Mock me, will you?" the priest cried, standing back and flinging an arm out. "Then behold! Shub-Niggurath approaches! Gaze into her thousand eyes and know true horror!"
"It'll be remarkable to feel something, finally," Jon said, struggling against his bonds to turn and look at the horror out of darkness approaching him. Words could not describe it, for the qualities and properties of the earthly realms do not apply to the elder ones from beyond time and space. A maw opened, or perhaps it is more correct to saw, several maws stretching across infinite universes opened, and from them came a keening wail and the carrion stench of death's promise.
"At last," Jon breathed. "Come on then, get to it."
"Do you not see her squamous bulk? Her gibbous, maddening form?" the priest cackled. "How can one mind endure?" He ripped at his clothing and face with yellowed, cracked nails.
"Because," Jon said, closing his eyes. "I don't give a fuuuuuuuuuck." | His numbered seconds flitted by,
He sat facing the screen.
He used to be a normal guy,
Back when he was a teen.
But when the dread came creeping in,
And drained his life and soul,
His feelings slipped out of his skin,
And left a gaping hole.
When outside, he adorned a mask,
That bore a practised smile.
He wandered, searching for a task,
To make his life worthwhile.
Alone he'd sit and hibernate,
And waste his fleeting days,
He barely slept and barely ate,
And hoped it was a phase.
He knew he was dysfunctional,
A faulty, glitched machine.
His illness: unexpungable,
And outwardly unseen.
He stumbled through his life, deadpan,
Feeling no joy or pain,
And thought of that young happy man,
He'd never be again. | 2017-05-05T07:40:26 | 2017-05-05T06:57:56 | 172 | 31 |
[WP] Scientists invented a pill that enables dogs to fully speak and understand English. It lasts for ten minutes, and will only work one time. You give a pill to your 12 year-old Border Collie, whom you've had since they were a pup. Your dog immediately says "Alright, listen very carefully..." | She was old, my sweet Halley. Twelve years - nine of which we'd spent together after I pulled her from a shelter. Her legs were failing, her kidneys likewise. She was going blind. I wanted nothing but to discover if she was still happy, or if it was time to let her die easily. It didn't go to my plan - quite.
"All right, listen very carefully" were the first words out of her mouth. They sounded like they came from my great-grandmother - wheezy and crackly - a brittle voice of an old lady well past her years. My heart fell; I felt perhaps I'd let her linger too long.
"I don't know how much more time I have, but there are things I must tell you. Things I've tried to tell you for years. For your safety, you must hear them now.
"There is a thing - a great round bird that flies over the house sometimes..."
"The blimp," I observed.
"If you say so. It is evil. It intends to murder you in your sleep, I am sure. When I am gone, you must be more alert for it. And I must say, I greatly resent you having laughed at me all the times I chased it out of the yard for you."
I swallowed my smirk and my commentary. "Thank you for your help and advice. I will be careful."
She wheezed. "The squirrels..."
"What about them?"
"They laugh at you. That's why I hate them. They think you look ridiculous on your two feet and no bushy tail. They mock your inability to climb or jump or do anything at all, really. I wouldn't have anything to do with them if I were you."
"That's good information. Thank you." I made a mental note to better protect the bird feeder.
"Just one more thing," she sighed.
"What's that, sweet girl?" I whispered.
"Get a new dog when I go. I want to see you happy. I sense you've gotten busier - I know young me wasn't always easy to keep up with - so maybe someone a little calmer. I love you, human."
"I love you, Halley," I said. "But tell me this: Are you happy still? Do you want to go on, or is it time to let you die? The vet can..."
A low growl cut me short. "Sorry - reflex." She said. "Continue."
"...can put you down when you are ready - as gentle as going to sleep. But I want you to be happy." I felt tears pricking my eyes at the thought of her dying.
"The vet..." the word came out with a faint growl. "He would DO that for me? I was sure he hated me."
"Of course he didn't hate you. All those things he did were to keep you healthy. Remember when he stitched up your leg? That was to keep it from getting infected and maybe having to be removed. The shots? Prevented diseases that could have killed you. The pills cured your problems and kept you alive and happy longer. It's his job."
"Ah. You've been a better friend than I could have guessed. As has he. Well. Not just yet, I think. It's close, but not yet my time. For now, I am sleepy - but let's go take a walk later."
"Sure thing, Halley. One more thing - since time is almost up: You are a good dog. You've always been the best dog. Good girl, sweetie, good girl."
I could see the light of intelligence leave her eyes - but her tail thumped heartily as she laid her head down to take a nap. My heart was lighter, knowing she was content. | "Alright listen very carefully, we don't have much time." Barks Sonny, "follow me."
He races off through to doggy door into the back yard. I fumble with the back door for a second and I try to chase after my beloved dog. I barely reach him as he slips under the hedge of our garden. When I crawl under, I realized I've somehow entered an extensive lab. "Quickly! Here, take this list of names. We are a foundation committed to stoping an evil organization called B.O.R.K. They're breeding and weaponizing dogs all over the globe in the attempt to take control over the earth. That list I gave you has all of our operatives in the field. I hope you stocked up on pills. Find them and track down B.O.R.K. Stop them from taking over the world."
What the fuck just happened!? I think to myself as I look into the eyes of our once again mute dog... | 2017-02-23T07:07:51 | 2017-02-23T06:16:15 | 57 | 17 |
[WP] You're the only one in town who ISN'T a werewolf. A fact you're trying to keep secret | My name is Hunter Barns. I’m a construction worker who moved around a lot as an adult, following the work. Or at least, that’s the story. And for the most part, it’s accurate. It’s just not the whole story.
You see, my mom’s whole family are werewolves, so as a kid, I would watch the pack take off into the hills, and dream of the day I could join them.
That day wasn’t to be. Instead, I left my mother’s pack and became what they called a lone wolf. It would’ve been nice if that were indeed the case.
But then, I’d have never left if things hadn’t gone so horribly sideways for me.
Nevertheless, I could always sniff out other packs. I don’t know why I followed the trails. I was an outsider. Just somebody here to do a job, and move on.
I’d been in this small Montana town now for the better part of three months. The pack that lived here weren’t happy that a commercial enterprise was moving into the area having bought up a large chunk of their mountainside. That wasn’t my problem. They shouldn’t have sold the rights if they didn’t want people moving in. What did they think was going to happen?
It wasn’t a full moon, so I was in my cabin reading the latest news on my phone. I hadn’t seen a full moon since I hit puberty, but I always made sure my days off covered the four nights leading up to and away from the full moon. I didn’t need the complications.
My door burst open and my room filled with men. Warriors from the local pack. I lowered my phone to my chest. “Well, come on in, fellers,” I drawled, eyeing each of them.
The alpha himself wasn’t in attendance, but that wasn’t a surprise. No one outside the pack saw him. That meeting was invitation-only, and I still respected boundaries. But I knew his three enforcers. Jack Stanthorpe and his little brother John were the most dangerous, but only a hairsbreadth behind them was ‘Stumpy’, the pint-sized wolf who’d ripped more throats out during bar brawls before being promoted to pack leg-breaker.
All three had been breathing down my neck on the construction site at one time or another.
“You need to come with us,” Jack declared. Stumpy cracked his knuckles and smiled, his teeth already converting to the sharper fangs that the half-shift was famous for.
I eyed each of them, sliding my phone under my pillow for safety. There were other pack members behind them, but mob mentality was still a thing, even in the packs. In the early days, I used to keep my phone on me to act as a tracker and recorder, but wolves had incredible hearing and even the smallest hint of a sound from the electronic device had cost me a lot of money to replace it. Now, I don’t bother.
“Sure,” I said, sliding to my feet. “What’s this about?”
Stumpy shoved me towards the door. “Just shut up.”
Inwardly, I was torn. If this was official, I would finally see the alpha. That was both my best and worst chance of getting out of this in one piece. If these guys were acting outside the alpha’s control … well, I really didn’t want to think about that. This was a well-established pack and I didn’t want to mess with that. They'd worked hard to get where they are.
They dragged me along the veranda of the motel I was staying in and out to where no less than a dozen cars were gathered. Old pickups and work vehicles. Most of the pack. Jack opened the back seat and Stumpy shoved me in, sliding in beside me. John was already sliding in the other side, keeping me situated in the middle.
I tried to keep my hammering heart in check. “Guys, what is this all about?" When that didn't garner a response, I tried a different tact. "Look, any grief you’ve got with the construction company…” Stumpy slapped me in the back of the head, hard enough for me to head-butt the corner of the driver’s seat, where Jack was getting in.
“Shuddup.”
*Oh, guys. You really don’t want to do this ….* I thought as I rubbed the cut above my eye to mask the speed of the repair. Not even wolves healed that fast. Jack pulled out onto the road and looking in the rear vision mirror I saw all the other cars falling into line behind us.
I couldn’t help but wonder, had I given myself away? I took a tentative sniff of my hand and still smelt the signature werewolf pheromone that had been part of my DNA since the day of my birth. The fragrance was laced with brimstone and it mingled with theirs, but it was there. In the minds of a wolf, I was one of them.
Maybe this was something as simple as a lone wolf encroaching on another pack’s territory, leading the charge on behalf of the humans? *Wouldn’t that be ironic?*
John saw me take the sniff and curled his upper lip repulsively.
We drove for the better part of an hour. Far away from the construction site and the town I was staying in. We were in the middle of nowhere.
“Out,” Stumpy said, once he opened the door and climbed out himself.
As soon as I got out, a scent I never wanted to cross paths with again surged through my sinuses and I stiffened, my eyes widening in terror. I was no longer in charge. I never had been. I was the fly, and I’d walked straight into the spider’s web.
Stumpy tried to hold me as I pulled away from him. We were caught in the headlights of the other cars, but I no longer cared about them.
*I have to get out of here! Now!*
I hadn’t spent the better part of a century staying on the move to get caught now! John and Jack added their muscle to Stumpy’s, swelling up into their half form that would’ve ordinarily trumped any one person. Jack had me around the throat from behind. John and Stumpy by the arms. I turned and ran, dragging all three of them with me. I’m sure we looked like something out of a comic, but I was no longer laughing. This was no longer amusing.
I didn’t move as fast as I should’ve, and I heard the others as they shifted and ran after us. I was really determined to get away. It didn't worry me if I was abandoning all my gear and my own truck. I could start again somewhere else! I'd done it before.
I felt the added weight of the pack. Three became five. Five became ten. “Who the fuck is this guy?!” I heard Stumpy demand.
“That, gentlemen, is my son.”
Five words. Five words from a voice I hadn’t heard since I was thirteen, the night after I was supposed to go on my first run. On an unspoken word, they all released me and I was left standing before my father. Like them, he too was in a half-form, though it wasn’t natural for him. In his natural state, his lower half bore plates of armour like an armadillo and hooves. It looked like he’d been practising since last I saw him. I now understood why I'd never met the alpha.
He smiled at me. “Hunter,” he purred, as I stood there, struck dumb. “I knew if I let you go; you'd eventually find your way back to me.”
John and Jack left my side and went to stand on either side of him with their arms folded and an amused grin on their faces, and it was only then that I saw similarities between the three of them.
*Oh, no.* How did I miss this? It wasn’t just my brimstone I smelt whenever I was in their company. I smelt theirs too. I already knew what Dad was going to say next.
“Boys, say hello to your older brother.”
I could only think one thing.
*You had more of us, you hellborn asshole?*
\* \* \*
***This is a continuation from an earlier WP I wrote last year which can be found*** [***here***](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/j6bgo1/wp_you_were_sure_you_were_a_werewolf_just_like/g7zl4pl?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3)***, should anyone be interested. This was just a bit of fun. I figured instead of being "less" than a werewolf, Hunter was "more".***
\* \* \*
((All comments welcome))
***For more of my work including WPs:*** [r/Angel466](https://www.reddit.com/r/Angel466/) or an index of previous WPS [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/Angel466/comments/iio59n/wp_index/) | Rick leans against the back counter of the book store while he counts his remaining inventory. He soon gets a call from his coworker asking if he was down for drinks that night.
Rick: "Hey, Justin I'd love to get hammered tonight...." he veers up to see the full moon lit up against a clear blue sky reminding him of the dangerous repercussions "but I'm actually busy with..... um...stuff...........yes stuff"
Justin lets out a begrudging "no worries man, have a good night" Justin then sets down the phone while telling the other off shift co-workers that Rick wasn't going to be partying with them tonight.
Rick leaning back against his counter gazing at the clock, "only 5 more min till shifts over" he was thinking to himself as a loud bell is heard.
"Hello are you guys still open?" A young women says while entering the bookstore.
Rick: \*begrudgingly\* "yeah, we were slow all day so it's just me for closing, what can I do for you?"
"I'm jade, I'm trying to return this book on humans" She hands the biological text book to Rick.
Rick: "You studying humans or something? looks like you had this book for a while"
Jade: "oh um yeah sorry I forgot I had it, do you take returns?"
Rick: \*looks up at the ceiling and sighs\* "we don't but... here I'll just take it. It's just me so I'll tell my boss that I didn't see how long you had this book"
Jade: \*blushing at Ricks generosity\* "awww thank you!"
Rick: "yeah don't worry about it...... so what are you using that book for anyway?"
Jade: "oh humanity is just a fascination of mine, like there are no more humans left and I was changed so long ago I kinda forgot what it felt like lol"
Rick: \*suspicious\* "Riiiggghhhht..... well humans are interesting anyway th"
Jades eyes turn bright yellow as she lunges forward basically hoping onto the counter
"DO YOU KNOW ANY? WHERE ARE THEY? WHAT ARE THEY LIKE?"
Rick instinctually grips his silver bullet revolver in his back pocket as he slides back in shock. A few moments pass before Jade hops off the counter.
"Oh wow I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, humans are just an interest of mine. I can get pretty passionate" Jade says as she backs up and returns to normal.
Rick: \*easing off his hidden gun\* "oh... um no worries. but yeah humans are cool"
Jade: \*raising an eyebrow\* "Did you just say humans are cool?"
Rick: \*sweating profusely\* "um...yes? wait no I mean no"
Jade: "are you a human?"
Rick: \*sweating profusely\* "No.... I'm a Vampire like you"
Jade: \*confused\* "Vampires aren't real......."
Rick: \*thinking to himself but speaking quietly\* "Shit I always mix these up"
Jade leans in closer showing her sharp teeth.
Rick: "werewolf?....YES I'M A WEREWOLF!" Just like you!"
Jade: "no you're a human... I'm like 95% sure"
Rick reaches into his back pocket and briefly toys with the idea of reaching for his gun, but he reaches into his other pocket and throws pocket sand right into Jades face before running out of the store through the back.
"SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT" Rick says to himself as he runs through the alleyways trying to get jade off his trail.
Rick: \*out of breath\* "God my lungs are burning.... eight years I stay hidden and it's this shit that gets me exposed? how the fuck did she even know?"
"Lol you even run like a human" Jade says as she turns the corner in front, rubbing the last of the pocket sand out of her face.
Rick: \*pulls gun\* "stay back!!!"
Jade: \*walking forward\* "lol a gun I'm so scarred"
Rick: "It has silver tipped rounds, BACK THE FUCK UP!"
Jade: \*actually concerned\* "OH SHIT" Jade lunges behind a metal trash can
"are you gonna kill me?" Rick asks while aiming at the trashcan
"NO!..........are you going to try to kill me?" Jade lets out while peeping her head up ever so slightly
Rick looks at his gun and sets it down to his side "in all honesty I don't even know how this works, I never shot it..................So probably not?"
Jade: "oh....cool"
Rick: "soooooo"
Jade: "Soooooo?"
Rick: "how do I run like a human?"
Jade: "what?"
Rick: "earlier you said I ran like a human, what was I doing that gave it away?"
Jade: "you didn't run on all fours and I was able to catch up with you?"
Rick: "huh........"
Jade: "hey so weird question....... are you single?"
Rick: "What?"
Jade blushes before stepping out from behind the trashcan. "I mean like are you the only human left?"
Rick: \*puts gun in his back pocket\* "I think maybe? I got through the werewolf takeover by just telling people I just wasn't human"
Jade: "and that worked?"
Rick: "I mean up until 10 min ago yeah....."
Jade: "damn that's impressive.... want to hangout?"
Rick: \*seriously confused\* "I mean.... I'm usually off work at 4? want to see a movie or something?"
Jade: "Yeah sounds great, ill pick you up.... see you tomorrow"
Jade jumps into the air and rushes out of sight.
"What just happened?" Rick says while he walks back to the book store to close up. | 2021-01-07T20:54:01 | 2021-01-07T17:24:35 | 20 | 12 |
[WP] As soon as people turn 18, they get the powers of the very first thing they touch. Most people touch fire, water or electricity. You try to do that too, but first you adjust your glasses out of habit.
[deleted] | **It’s Zylonite!**
 
Welcome to my humiliation, now in HD!
Everyone is watching, or did just watch, my spectacular fuck up. I mean everyone; my parents, my friends, the doctors, the priests, the officials, my extended family, and any person with a working internet connection. Judging by the spasms my phone is undergoing, I’ve gone viral.
Great.
Why is everyone able to watch my embarrassment? Of course we all have to watch, they said. It’s traditional, they said. As if that is a reason by itself. But I didn’t have a choice, I really didn’t.
There is no arguing with the Ritual. There is only the Rite way. It is the glue that binds our pan-galactic society. No matter who you, or your parents, are, you go through the Ritual. Live to all feeds across the human stars, you turn 18 and gain your powers, your talent.
On the stroke of midnight, Earth time, of your 18th birthday, the nanos throughout your body activate for the first time. Why only at 18? I mean why shouldn’t kids have access to the powers those bots offer? There is no way that tots with super speed and herculean strength could ever cause issues. Yep, that’s right, it would be a fucking disaster.
Everyone is still staring. Some are exchanging glances and my mother looks like her jaw is about to shatter, given she has it clenched so tight. To her, appearances are everything, and, well, I not only fell on the proverbial catwalk, but managed do so while wearing flats, and training wheels, and while on a non-slip surface.
So, I’m staying in my head for now.
But I can’t stop thinking about it. I knew how this worked. There were classes since I was 12, instructions on the tech and guidance on the Ritual. There were test runs and all sorts of medications made available. Finally, I have signs floating in front of me, both digital and actual big fuck off signs, reminding me of every part of this process.
I kind of forgot, I guess.
I forgot that the bots were activating throughout my body, that the nanos were getting ready to imprint on whatever material my index finger would touch first. That they were going to absorb the atomic composition and use it as the base for my talent, for my being. I would be rebuilt in that image.
Some choose fire for their remaking, for the Ritual. Others choose water, lightning, diamond, or some other carbon composite on the approved materials list. Whatever it is, the nanos tap in and use it as your new building blocks and gradually, as your cells are replaced, you become a human form of whatever you picked. You still feel and look like yourself, but you can unleash the power of your material and take on certain properties at will. Want to be a soldier and resist anything? Pick diamond. Want to be a surgeon and actually flow into your patients for surgery without the scars? Pick water.
Want to be an idiot? Pick glasses.
It was a nervous tic, a moment of forgetfulness, something I’d done a thousand times before. It would have been the last time, as the nanos should fix my eyes. Anyways, I was nervous ok? The world was watching. And so I adjusted my frames as my mind went off on some mental tangent. And bam, the nanos activated.
The doctors are not frowning anymore. That’s interesting. The word zylonite is coming up alot, I can hear their chatter. They are referring to their screens.
Mum still looks mad. I feel that hot rush of shame again.
“How did you know?” The voice of the head doctor breaks the fresh spiral of humiliation in my head.
“Ummm…” I manage.
“You must have planned this for a while, didn’t you?” He continues quickly.
“Ah…” I respond.
“I mean, usually we ban any non-approved items, but we never thought someone would touch their glasses…that would just be stupid.”
“Ye….”
“In any case. The properties you can now exploit…the talent you can now accesss…is extraordinary.”
“Wha…”
“I mean, you know this, but zylonite is everywhere for good reason. You can manipulate it in so many ways, it bonds fairly easily, it has stealth properties, it can capture images easily…”
Finally recovered, I nod sagely. Time to pretend this was all one genius plan.
…Wait, did he say stealth properties and image capture? Without the digital signature of a device?
I’m going to be a spy!
 
----
I hope you enjoyed the read! Find more random fictions at r/countsforfun | He's mad some days, I tell you.
He wore a Hazard suit too big for him, on an island he swam too, and not receiving any assistance along the way. I saw him mouthing the countdown like I saw him do before entering the ocean, when this all began. He stood over this lava pit, and he pulled the glove of the hazard suit off of his hand, took off and stowed his glasses and he reached a finger down into the pit.
But I saw it! I saw him pull his glasses off just before he reached down into the pit.
"STOP! NATHAN, STOP! YOUR GLASSES! YOU TOUCHED YOUR GLASSES WITH YOUR HAND!"
He froze. He looked at the hand that he touched his glasses with, and then at the pool of lava he was reaching into.
He laughed aloud and cried out, "Oh, fucking Christ! Oh, wow! So that's how its gonna be then?"
He looked toward me with that winning smile as he returned the glasses back onto his face. And then he stopped again. He looked at me, took his glasses, and looked back at me.
He had this most innocent face when he took his glasses and tossed them into the pit. He walked towards me and says, "Ms. Rodham, I believe that I may see the world in new and fascinating ways."
I immediately stepped back into the role of instructor: "Nathan Josephus Harroway, didn't I tell you that lava-bending was just a silly power to wish for?"
"No, Ms. Rodham, it is not silly. I would have been the first person ever to hand-shape and create rock sculptor."
"But Exceptional Eyesight can have so many practical applications!"
He took off his Hazard Suit coat, and slung it onto his shoulders as we walked back towards the beaches. "Practical and Boring." | 2020-02-18T20:20:13 | 2020-02-18T19:05:51 | 183 | 51 |
[WP] In the future criminals are thrown into a forest completely surrounded by city. Civilians hunt them in the forest. Police watch the forest edge for criminals, and kill them if seen leaving. You were falsely accused of murder and thrown into the forest with 4 other criminals. | The gates close beyond me. I stand back and look skyward. The clang of the closing gate is immense, final, godlike – a judge’s gavel. All around it a hundred and fifty feet high containing wall loops around the forest. Somewhere above, young, bored guards sit in towers with compact bows, and rich people sit in the observation posts with binoculars, making bets on which one of us dies first.
“How long do we have?” A voice says over my shoulder.
“Thirty minutes before the hunters. No, more like twenty now.”
“We should stick together. Try to take some of these fuckers out.”
“Oh god, we’re gonna fucking die, aren’t we?”
Four men stand behind me arguing. Three of them must have played some role in the crime syndicates of the lower city. They have the tattoos and insignias, the cold eyes, the scars. They might have been arrested for extortion, bribery, murder, drug trafficking, assault – whatever they had been brought in, they had done far worse things that no one would ever know about. The fourth man looks like me. Quivering in his boots, a poor sorry sap who had owned a noodle cart. From what I heard, they busted him for operating in an unliscenced district, and apparently didn’t have the coin to convince the arresting officer that he wasn’t.
The three men take off in one direction of the forest. The other man can’t move. He just stands there, his mind racing, his features contorted with horror. He’s already pissed himself.
“Hey, buddy,” I say. “You owned a noodle cart, right?”
“I was a ramen chef. I used to make good fucking ramen.”
“Let’s go man. We can’t just stand here. We gotta run. We gotta fucking hide or something. You didn’t commit a crime and I didn’t commit a crime, let’s at least make these bastards work for it.”
“What’s the point? The’re going to run us down…like…like fucking dogs.”
I can’t argue with his point, and it’s the same one that’s been revolving through my thoughts since they first threw me in a cell. I grab him by the arm and pull him into the forest with me. It breaks my heart to see a man so hopeless, so ready to give up. I might have done the same thing, but the ancient programming of the brain kicked in, decide to make me run on my behalf, to try to survive in the face of an obvious impossibility.
The forest extends five miles across. Strange trees grow here, fed by human blood, their roots slowly dragging the bodies back into the earth. Old, gnarled, swamp trees. Fat mushrooms cling to the soil, popping up between the gaps in the roots. The whole land has a dank, moldy smell. We run through it. This is a sacred forest. When the seas rose, and the second great deluge happened, a new city was founded here, with the forest at its center. Those who died, whose blood the earth drank, fed the prosperity of the city and its outlying communities. The city needed blood to keep its heart pumping.
I pull the man along until we reach a thin stream. We stop for a second, doubled over, trying to catch our breath.
“Oh shit,” the man said.
A corpse lay against the bank of the stream. It could have been either a hunter or a criminal. Time and decay had obscured its features. It looked mummified, dried out. The bugs had already taken the useful bits of meat. I looked down and realized that I was standing in the ribcage of another fallen man, this one only bones, picked clean.
“Oh God,” the man said.
“You okay? We should keep moving,” I say
Nearby I hear human voices. The three others. They’re somewhere close, but out of sight.
“We need to get away from them,” I say. “They’re fucking loud. The hunters will find them first. We need to go deeper and find a place to hide.”
We run across the stream.
“What’d they arrest you for? What’s your name?” the ramen chef says.
“Murder.”
“Did you do it?”
“Fuck no. Come on, let’s go.”
“What were you before? You look like you were rich.”
“I was a beaurocrat, and no, I wasn’t rich.”
Somewhere I hear a dog barking and a bolt of genuine terror travels from my feet up to my brain. A human voice yells in the distance. The forest has a way of distorting sounds, echoing them and funneling them between the trees. Another human sound close by. We come to a stop and crouch against the trunk of an ancient tree. Shit, I think. We must have been going along the perimeter of the forest, close to the wall, instead of retreating into the interior. The forest makes it impossible to orient myself. The hunters are close.
The ramen chef starts wailing. I tell him to shut up, but he won’t. He’s completely lost it now and takes off running. I do the same, taking off in the opposite direction, towards the center of the forest. Fuck him, I thought. I can’t babysit him any longer. I can hear him crashing through the underbrush, and I hear the dogs barking furiously. An arrow hits the man in the leg and he goes down with a scream. I can’t see anything, but the sounds keep chasing me as I run. The dogs reach him, and then the screams really start. The hunters yell in triumph. I’ve never run so fast in my life.
It’s impossible to tell if they picked up my trail. It doesn’t matter. Another crashing sound seems to follow. It’s too hard to distinguish from my own thundering foosteps. I worked out in my old life. I prided myself on the shape I maintained. But I was reaching the point of exhaustion. I trip and fall. I lie there, my chest heaving, the rich, dank smell of the earth filling my head. I pull myself up.
I fell next to a particularly wide tree. Low hanging branches protrude from it. I turn back the way I came, the sound of rushing blood in my ears, unsure if I hear something besides my own galloping heart. I decide to the climb the tree, scrambling up the branches. I’m twenty, thirty, then forty feet above the ground. My head swims with vertigo. In the distance I hear hunters.
A powerful hand grabs me from behind. Before I can yelp a second hand covers my mouth and stifles it. I realize I’m dead, that the hunters have found me.
The figure pulls me higher up the tree, along a thick branch. Another man sits up there, perched. It takes a second to realize they’re not hunters. The second man puts a finger over his mouth to signal silence, and the other uncovers my mouth.
One is a woman and the other is a man. They look filthy, their clothes torn. Dirt streaks their faces. Judging by the man’s beard, they’ve been here for a while. They’re definitely not hunters, but they each have a bow and a small quiver of arrows. They nock their arrows now and watch below. The real hunters come by, the dogs leading. The men stop to discuss my whereabouts for a moment at the base of a tree.
They take off in another direction. My heart rate slowly settles.
“Give him some water,” the man says. The woman, who might have been beautiful on the outside, hands me a canteen and I drink for a long time.
| I staggered to my feet, my jumpsuit covered in dead leaves, tree bark, and dirt, in immense pain from the beating I had suffered at the hands of prison guards the night before. How many times did I tell them I wasn’t to blame for that old lady’s murder? I don’t even own a gun, is what I kept telling them, but they just didn’t care to listen, laughing and taking turns at thrashing me.
Before I knew it, I came to the realization that I wasn’t the only piece of alleged human trash tossed in here, four other men picked themselves off the dirt. The oldest couldn’t have been younger than fifty, his salt colored hair flowed over his shoulders like a jungle rainfall, a leather patch shielded the hole where his eye used to be. The youngest couldn’t even have been old enough to drink, his face was still fresh with teenage acne and stood a good few inches shorter than the rest of the group.
The other two were average looking fellows, unfortunate souls probably caught in the midst of something that they shouldn’t have been. Despite that, I couldn’t help but care less, I’d rather save the pity for myself.
“Daybreak is coming soon, we should probably find somewh-“ I was cut short by the elder man’s raised palm, “We?”he gave off a forced laugh. “There is no we, you moron” he exclaimed raising his fingers in air quotes.
“I’m looking to get out of this hole alive, and ain’t no way its gonna be done with a bunch of dipshits like you on my heels”, he added.
“Look, if we just work together, we can probably find a way out of here” I muttered, trying to not come off as condescending to such a menacing figure. “There you go again”, he chuckled, “this is how it’s going to work, all three of you are going to shut your holes and give me your socks, laces, and anything else you have on you, and put it in a neat pile, right over here”, he demanded, pointing a finger at a patch of grass near his feet, “that is, if you don’t want to get hurt over something as dumb as socks and shoelaces”.
He took a few steps forward till his toes were just inches away from mine. Towering almost a foot above me, his nose came within a centimeter of mine. I almost toppled backwards.
“You got it, tough guy?”, I nodded conceding, and he stepped back with a satisfied ear to ear grin on his face.
“Good ch…..ughhh” the young boy stepped from behind the elder, a bloodied blade in his right hand, and his left hand wrapped underneath his arm. He thrust the blade twice more, impacting the eye-patched man on the back of his neck, severing his spinal cord and killing him instantly.
The boy released his grip and the elder fell over, falling onto his side and then his belly, motionless. He was dead.
“Now what were you saying about working together?” the boy wondered, not making eye contact, and replacing the knife in his boot. “You killed him!” I couldn’t help but shriek, “he’s dead!”. The boy shrugged, and walked away, “Him or us, buddy, which one do you prefer?”.
“Look, they release the hunters at dawn and the sun is coming up as we speak, so we’d better find a place to hide while we still can” the average fellow stepped forward, his glasses pressed tightly against the rim of his nose. I wondered what a man like that could’ve done to have ended up in this place. Kill someone? No. He didn’t look like the type. Rob a bank? Doubtfully.
“I concur” the other fellow said, stepping forward alongside the other one. “What are you two in here for anyways?” the boy inquired suspiciously, but with a touch of curiosity.
“Bank fraud, insurance fraud, securities fraud, counterfeiting, embezzlement, forgery, money laundering, bribery of a public official, grand larceny, tax evasion, extortion, economic espionage, and……..damn, what was that last one, Herald?”
“Identity theft?”
“Ah, yes!”
I put myself together enough to ask the same question to the boy who seemed too young to have just flatly killed a man without emotion.
“Triple homicide” he replied coldly, “and my name is James”, he added extending a hand, I returned the gesture, “Mark”. The two others stepped forward hesitatingly, “I’m Nathan and this man over here is Herald”.
“Great. Now that were acquainted we can get moving.”
| 2014-11-02T08:02:53 | 2014-11-02T07:29:53 | 93 | 33 |
[WP] You are a princess that owns a pet dragon. You are getting tired of constantly having to defend your pet against knights attempting to "slay the dragon and rescue the princess". | The gigantic oak door that made up the main entrance to my mansion buckled and broke, flying off its hinges in a shower of splinters. A young knight stepped in, clad in a pragmatic and flexible armor.
"I will not let you take my dragon!" I shrieked, wielding a heavy trident.
"Yes yes, we know."
"He is mine!" Purple flames licked the trident.
"He is a dragon." The knight said, and looked around the large hall. "Also we are fairly certain you have been driven coco in the head. This place stinks by the way, you realize that?"
"He is just misunderstood! I do not need to be rescued!"
"I mean, this is more like an attempted arrest..."
I rushed against him. The coward backed away as I flung small shots of purple flames at him from my trident.
"You will never have him! None of you!"
"Yeah we gathered that when you killed the first, a crap." The young knight blocked some of my bullets with his large kite shield and continued as if he was completely unperturbed, the bastard. "... after you killed the first three people come to try and extract you. Spontaneous magical powers huh. No wonder you are completely unhinged."
"I am NOT CRAZY!"
"Sure, sure. Just any normal princess arent you just."
"Leave now or I will kill you! You will never slay my dragon!"
"We are not here to slay your dragon."
That actually disturbed me. I stared at him with large, shocked eyes.
"That was the original plan sure, but you know. We were working on limited information."
"So why have you disturbed my domicile?"
"Well..." The young knight hesitated. "We are gonna save the dragon? From you?"
I screamed out in fury and flung my arcane powered trident at him full force, he let out another frightful gasp and again raised his shield.
"Oh Crap!" The trident hit straight into his shield, breaking it in four large pieces and sending him up into the air. He hit the wall with a large thud that echoed across the hall, then fell down on the floor. He tried to stand, but his knees buckled and he fell down on one of them.
I sneered at him, looking around for something to finish the job.
"It seems you will be the fourth, sir knight." I said in a mocking tone. "You will never be able to defeat me."
"Me? Maybe not. But you know. I did not actually... ah... come alone."
And then a large number of things occurred simultaneously.
From the back of my mansion I heard a large explosive sound, as if someone had just blown up the back door, and a loud happy rumbling as if something large was being escorted out of the building.
"Oh no! My dodo!" I screamed, but at exactly the same time, windows on both sides of the building shattered as two rather short knights poured in. One of them was a dwarf, and the other were clearly a gnome. They were wearing the same style of armor as the young knight.
"This is a KESA raid!" The gnome yelled. "Surrender now!"
I snarled and turned to set the little bastard on fire, but before I could, his friend shot a strange crossbow bolt at me. As it hit me, the glass head shattered, and I was covered in a strange gas that made me cough and spit. As I was unable to form the arcane power, the gnome rushed at me and threw a very small net at my knees. Then the young knight tackled me to the ground and gagged me.
​
"That eh, stands for Knights Extraction and Special Assault squad." He said, as I struggled and cursed at him trough the restraints.
\-
In the aftermath of the extraction, as the still cursing, still tied up, soon to be ex-princess was being carted away, the KESA squad met for a short after operations debrief.
"Cannot lie to you boss, that was helluva risky." The gnome knight said.
"Yeah maybe. I wanted to confirm she was really you know. Coco in the head." The young knight said, tapping at his temple. "Also it fit with the reports. No immediate attacks, just lots of shouting, then a flashes of purple light. And some more... much more abrupt screams."
The gnome knight grunted but said nothing. The young knight turned to a somewhat tall elf and an equally tall older human wearing the same armor as the rest of them. "How was the dragon?"
The old human shrugged. "Malnourished and scared, but otherwise mostly fine. He should be back with his parents soon."
The young knight lit a small yet finely crafted ivory pipe and shook his head. "Crazy times these. If this was back in my grandfathers days, we would have blamed the dragon for turning the princess mad and executed him on the spot."
"Things arent so simple anymore." The elf knight said. The dwarf knight grunted. "They never were. So boss, what do we do now?"
"What else is there?" The young knight said. "Now we do the paper work." | Sitting quietly in her beautiful court yard Rae sat looking out over her kingdom. She watched the many marvels that happened there. The beauty of nature and woods surrounded her. A crystal water fell rushed to the forest floor not far off from her.
Rae shook her head as she saw the bright gleam of armor speeding her way.
Another of the kingdoms enemies racing my way to rescue me, she mused.
She turned and headed toward the humungous gaping hole in the side of her mountain. It was made to look like a cave but make no mistake it was a castle of the most beautiful design. As she walked through the golden hall she carefully put out each and ever torch preparing for her visitor.
When Rae reached the end of the long hallway she sat in wait watching the entrance for her rescuer.
She did not have to wait long before she heard the thundering of hooves and the click clack of armor. Soon the metal man was 'stealthily' stalking towards her.
Rae rose up, "who goes there!" She demanded.
It was silent for a long moment before the man answered in a raspy voice, "Arthur of the city of Frei, knight of graylandolf."
"And what is your buisness here?"Rae boomed back.
"To slay the dragon and rescue the princess!" Arthur said.
" And what if you find the dragon and the princess are one and the same?" She asked.
Arthur stopped frozen in shock at the question. He began mumbling out an answer but Rae interrupted him with a blast of fire.
The knight dodged, and Rae allowed a small smile to curl up her lips. Feeling the adrenalin rush through her she forces herself to be hard even down to her heart beat as the ground shook around her golden dust clouded the air. Without thought Rae turned the stone to Ice and in so doing froze Arthur eternally, still.
Lighting a torch she walked over to inspect her prize, "Oh, and Arthur," Rae spat, "I'm not the princess I'm the king. Perhaps, if you had known you wouldn't have an eternal place in my trophy room." | 2019-01-09T11:21:07 | 2019-01-09T07:32:29 | 72 | 14 |
[WP] It is the year 2XXX. Medical science has advanced so far that complete body restoration is possible. However, patients revived from death consistently end up in a vegetative state and no one knows why. You are the first person to revive and retain their cognition. Now you know. | Just a heads up, this is my first time writing one of these and I’m only 16 so I’m not a writing genius but please give critique thx bai
I wake up, confused as to where I am. I had just been falling asleep in the softest bed and felt a sudden tingle on my arm. When I went to scratch it, I saw a light and a bunch of faces around me.
“Hello?” I ask the group. They appear to be doctors, but that’s not possible, I was just asleep in my house. Unless...
No. It couldn’t be. There had been numerous attempts to bring someone to life from the dead, and it worked... sort of. It brought people back, but it was in a coma sort of state. I remember the doctors saying, “My god, we did it.”
I asked what had, you know, caused me to die. They told me the entire story. It was on the eve of my girlfriends birthday. We were out on a walk when a car came from nowhere, and I had shoved my girlfriend out of the way to safety. I ended up getting hit in full force by a Tesla electric SUV, at 40 mph.
I couldn’t believe that they had brought me back after an accident like that, and I asked if anyone knew about the procedure other than the doctors. They told me that my family knew and my girlfriend definitely knew, she was the one who brought me back. They asked how I felt, the normal check up questions, and then they got down to business.
“What do you remember of the afterlife?”
“I remember it being cold for a little bit. Not too long, but long enough for me to register that it was chilly, like the middle of October in Texas.”
“What happened after the cold?”
“I saw a street, lit up like it was in Austin. I saw a movie theatre, with a now playing ‘AntMan’, and a comedy bar next to it being performed at by Fluffy Iglesias. Strange thing was, those are two of my favorite forms of entertainment, comedy and action movies. And those were my top picks for both categories.”
“What else do you remember seeing on this street?”
At that moment I thought, hard, about the things I saw. “I saw a Whataburger, and a Costco, and at the end of the street sat a Lamborghini Hurican and the most perfect house I had ever seen. I saw the place where I had to bury my first dog, and my grandpa and grandma. I saw the places that were most important to me in my life, and the places where the best of my emotions came out. And as I walked toward the house, I noticed that there was something very strange. I was a ghost in a ghost town, the only person there.”
“What did you feel while you saw these things, and do you mind if some people come in here?”
“Not at all. I’ll tell you when they come in.”
He pulls a walk-in talkie out from his pocket, holds it up to his face, and says, “send them in.”
I was hit by an unexpected force from someone jumping on me, and I could tell from the smell of the hair that it was my girlfriend. She was crying. I held her tighter than I had ever before.
My parents, my siblings and a few close friends and family members came funneling in, everyone crying because they had thought I was gone.
The doctor turned to me and says, “Are you ready to explain everything that you felt?”
“I will say this for sure, I have never been as happy to see any of these people than I am right now. And I missed these guys while I was gone, cause now I have everyone that I care most for in this very room. I felt the saddest in death when I realized that nobody else was there, just me. Alone. Nobody should ever have to go through the afterlife alone, and the only reason I did was because I died at the wrong time.” | The 'otherside' is actually just really nice. It's not paradise or rapturous bliss or anything - it's just better. Folks could come back, but... meh. They don't. I only came back because I love my Dog so much. I tell everyone it's a mistake to make immortal dogs because we can't take them with us when we die. So I kill my Dog and kill myself. But they revive me again and I come back and tell everyone not to kill their immortal dogs because they don't go to the really nice place since they're GMO. I beg them to bring back my immortal Dog and I choose to live. Fast forward thousands of years.
The folk who chose to come back cyclically to live with their Immortal Dogs have taken over the earth and everyone just has an awesome time because the world is better off with undying Dogs. Everyone else died a long time ago and stays happily ever after with their non-immortal dogs. The End. | 2020-10-30T00:36:54 | 2020-10-30T00:22:17 | 48 | 21 |
[WP] It's 3 AM. An official phone alert wakes you up. It says "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON". You have hundreds of notifications. Hundreds of random numbers are sending "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside." | ######[](#dropcap)
It was one of those surreal moments that you only get to experience once in life.
Linda was working on the script for the next show when her phone began to buzz. Slowly at first, just a couple messages. Work friends, she thought. Thursday was always their night out for drinks, but she had been too busy tonight to join them.
Then the buzzing became more rapid, until her phone began vibrating constantly on the bed. With a frown, she glanced at the messages that were popping up quickly, one after another. They were all from random numbers, all sending the exact same message. She scrolled through, just to make sure she wasn't missing something.
"It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside."
A frisson of fear ran down her spine. After a minute, the messages slowed down. Then a singular message, different from the previous ones.
"DO NOT LOOK OUT YOUR WINDOW."
It was from her boyfriend, Jordan. Her mind reeled. This had to be some kind of joke. She'd been such a good girl. She never went to abandoned houses and never walked into creepy forests alone. She was always sure to lock her windows and doors at night.
So with hesitant steps, she walked toward the dark curtain that was covering her window. Slowly, she reached out a hand and flicked off the lamp on her desk so that her room became pitch dark. It would help, at least, if whatever was out there couldn't see in. Then, she slowly slid open the curtain and peeked outside, expecting the worst. Perhaps a killer clown or a ghost.
She squinted. Was that...Jordan?
Without hesitating, she ran toward her bedroom door, throwing it open, and dashed down the steps of her apartment until she was at the bottom. There, she watched as her boyfriend was desperately trying to bring down the small hot air balloon that he had somehow managed to raise a little ways from her window.
He glanced down at her, then ducked into the basket. She simply stood there, waiting for him to get down. When the balloon came close enough, she saw the sign plastered to the front, and burst out into laughter.
On the front of the balloon, in large bold, flowery lettering, were the words:
LINDA, WILL YOU MARY ME?
When the hot air balloon touched down, Jordan climbed out, his face bunched up. "I told them not to send the messages, but it was too late when I noticed the typo--I'm going to kill Erin by the way--and everyone has such quick reflexes-"
Linda simply laughed and cut him off, throwing herself into his arms. "The answer's yes, in case you were wondering."
Jordan froze for a moment before he hugged her tight, lifting her up and spinning her around in the air. Then, huffing and puffing, he set her down, breaking out in a large smile as he gazed her windswept hair and freckles. "Best girlfriend ever," he said softly.
"Best fiancée ever," she corrected, and tilted his face so they could look at the moon together. "You have great timing, by the way. It's a full moon tonight."
"I meant to do that," he said, and kissed her on the forehead. Then he pulled out his phone.
"Mission success," he typed into the group chat, and ignored the kissy faces that flooded in. He would get revenge on Erin tomorrow, he vowed, his face dark. But at least, he thought, this would be a tale to tell the grandkids.
*****
r/AlannaWu | I wake to the sound of my phone vibrating so fast I'm afraid it'll fall of my nightstand. I groggily my phone before it falls and turn it on to see the words "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON" in bright letters illuminated by the official nationwide alert backdrop. The vibrations refuse to stop. Hundreds of texts are rolling in from numbers I don't know so fast that I can barely make out what they're saying. I set my phone to silent and put it back on the nightstand. "Looks like a problem that can wait till the morning," I faintly think to myself before falling back to sleep. Nothing gets me out of bed at 3 a.m. | 2022-06-10T18:58:05 | 2018-04-06T19:08:10 | 308 | 11 |
[WP] You’re immortal. The only problem is, you’ve lived so long humanity died out and a new intelligent species evolved. Now you’re forced to live in the forest as a cryptid. | "There goes the neighborhood," I muttered, packing up my few belongings as the land-squid construction workers flattened the section of forest I'd been living in for nigh on eight thousand years. I'd known they were going to be trouble ever since they crawled their way out of the ocean some two million or so years ago, but I hadn't had the heart to do anything about it back then. After all, I figured, maybe they would reinvent video games, forgetting too easily that progress sometimes also entailed giving nature a good thumping.
I found myself entering a particularly ancient section of the forest a few days later, when it happened. When I ran into freaking Bigfoot. Literally, I was rubbernecking, not looking where I was going, and smacked right into the big, hairy brute. "Watch your step!" he growled at me.
"Uh, my apologies... Bigfoot," I stammered out. "Wait, ARE you Bigfoot?"
The creature sighed deeply and nodded. "Yes, and as you've no doubt already surmised, I'm in much the same boat as you. Last of my kind, doomed to walk the Earth forevermore, or until the sun just burns the bloody thing out from underfoot. Let me guess: some new riffraff went and decided to make themselves a nuisance, and now you're seeking refuge?" He rolled his eyes. "Very well. I suppose I've been expecting this, because I already have my guest tree all ready for you. Come along."
"Guest tree?" I asked, confused.
Bigfoot looked vaguely offended. "Well, I'm not about to let you stay with me in MY tree," he said. "I assure you, it's quite comfortable. I have been working with wood since long before your kind left Africa, you know."
"Oh, cool," I said, not really knowing what else to say as I followed him. "Wait, how did you know I'd be coming here? How do you even know about me?"
"When you first moved into the neighborhood all those thousands of years ago, I knew it was because those sea creatures had begun to grasp concepts like agriculture and construction, and their budding civilization had driven you away from your old home on the coast. As to how I know about you, well, I figured what happened to me would happen to one of you humans after you threw around all those ghastly nuclear weapons, so I just kept a close watch on your kind's shattered cities until I saw you -- just a decade or two after everyone else snuffed it, that would have been -- and I've been keeping tabs on you ever since."
Being told by Bigfoot that he'd been stalking me for several million years was more than a little jarring. "How come I never saw you? I would have liked someone to talk to, at the least."
"Apologies, but I'm usually a very private being. And I'm a better hider than I am a woodworker." Bigfoot didn't sound very apologetic.
My eyes narrowed. "If you're so good at hiding, how come you ended up caught on camera so many times?"
"You mean like this?" He struck a pose, one I instantly recognized from one of the more famous Bigfoot videos. "To be perfectly frank, I'd been bored out of my skull for decades, and wanted to... how did your people phrase it? Ah, yes, I wanted to troll people, and I succeeded far beyond my wildest dreams." He sighed again, relishing the memory as I could only look on in utter shock. He then gave me an inquisitive look. "Say...do you suppose those squid fellows have invented moving film yet?" He grinned, a very mischievous look on his face, and rubbed his palms together. "Oh yes, and with two of us, this will be twice as fun!" | I'm probably the last human, if you can even call me that anymore. I say this because it's been hundreds of years since I heard anything over the internet or the radio. I know more of us survived the abomination that we'd created. Everlasting life for the price of our reproductive organs. But we didn't expect that our A.I. would turn on us either. Giving up our nature in return for everlasting life seemed like a golden opportunity. I'd frozen sperm like the rest of us that agreed. Others had frozen eggs. It wasn't like we'd go extinct as a species, it was more about conservation of resources. It wasn't that the AI did anything wrong as per it's coding. We taught it what we thought we wanted, but our blindness to the extent of what it meant long term was our mistake.
I'm on mobile, this is difficult. I can expand if anyone cares later. | 2021-05-14T22:06:26 | 2021-05-14T20:36:07 | 34 | 14 |
[WP] “I’ll die when pigs fly!” You declare. Only death took it seriously. Now, hundreds of years later you are desperately trying to attach wings to a pig. | It was a couple hundred years ago, but it felt even longer. My first brush with death was... not good. My brother died, shot in the head because he got involved with the wrong group. His funeral was in a small house, with my uncle as the pastor. I loved him so much, he brought a light into my life, after saving me from committing suicide when I was 25. During the whole ceremony, I cursed death. I cursed it till even Satan grimaced and told me to stop. Death itself, wasn't pleased with my dis respectfulness, as it proceeded to take my entire family except for the children. "Mercy to the young ones, for they have still a pure life," he said. Those words echoed in my mine for the next hundred years, it was the first time it talked to me.
I lived a fruitful life. Wrote a book and raised the kids my family had. They were in their primes. It was a blessing to see them grow up, experience sadness, happiness and all in between. They were happy. I was happy. Until they were also claimed by death, like they were products on the shelf waiting to be bought or stolen against their will. Death spoke to me, said it was their time. I saw their souls in it's eyes. They were frozen with fear from the accident they were just in. I tired to fight it. I tried to stop it from taking my babies, my life. Nothing worked. I grabbed its cloak, only to be paralyzed with pain. It was too strong.
After their funeral, it was only my wife. I had to protect her. I tried everything. Praying, sacrifices, sage, going somewhere else completely. Turns out you can't outrun death, usually. It caught up and took my wife at age 94. I suppose it was a bit merciful, as it let me have a moment with her. I begged it to not take her. We had a goal to life past 95. We were so close.
And then, it spoke to me again.
"You do not understand. I am giving them a gift."
It's voice was hollow, deep and had an echo. It was dull, like it had seen everything.
"w-wha-?"
"Death is not a punishment. It is a gift. You are freed."
Tears were still running down my cheeks. "f-freed from w-whatt?"
"You will understand when it's your turn, in a few months."
I stood up with my fist clenched, anger seeping over me. "Like hell i'll die! You won't take me! I'll die when pigs fly!"
My mouth ran before my mind had time to think about the question.
And then death chuckled.
"You're persistent. I've always wanted to play with the humans. They're the most unique out of them all."
"out of who all?!" I declared.
"Your wish has been granted. You live eternally. I wonder how god will react to me granting you immortality."
"w-what?"
"Goodbye, human. This is not the last time I will see you though."
And off it went, never to be seen again.
Hundreds of years later, I finally made a pig with the DNA extracted and stored when Earth still existed. It has wings, it has flying capabilities. It's a bird mammal. It's my ticked out of this universe.
Pick it up and set it loose. It falls straight down, but gets back up. It flaps its wing a few times, and looks around. Then it flaps. It flaps harder and harder until it's airborne. I see my heart thumping like it had a couple hundred years back when I still had emotion. It's all coming back to me. The pig leans forward and pushes it's wings. It flies. It goes backwards. Then it goes up and smells the ceiling.
At the end, I see a portal open. There I see death, with a sad, sad, smile. Behind it, I see my family. The kids, the elders, all smiling the same, sad, smile.
"Welcome." | “Gosh! The duct tape isn’t sticking!” You yell, continuing to fumble with the wings you got from the store. You still desperately tried to attach the wings to the pig, tears clouding your vision. As you frantically look around for an answer you think that if you just try it one more time it might work. You grasp the pig tightly and mutter a quick “super sorry” before you begin to spin in circles, letting the pig catch speed. As you finally start to stumble- now taking several minutes from doing it so often- you grimace you the pig leaves your grasp once again, it’s screams getting quickly quieter. As you look back to the world it seemed off... as if someone gave the world a light coat of light gray, making everything appear hazy and half made. “Where am I?” You stutter out, whipping around fast enough to snap your own neck. Although it was fast enough to it doesn’t. “Limbo. The waiting room for death to come and see you. Currently all of us are considered to be in a coma,” Someone muttered to you, the world evaporating and turning into a small room. Needless to say, like all waiting rooms, you waited for an eternity. | 2019-09-12T19:22:59 | 2019-09-12T18:56:01 | 42 | 10 |
[WP] Superpowers are granted depending on how you died in your previous life. Someone who died in a fire might shoot fire from their fingertips, etc. You were an astronaut that died during the SpaceX Mars Mission. | I knew Mars as home.
I was born on this red planet. Been here for as long as I could remember. Which wasn't very long, mind you, but even my parents cannot tell me about Earth. Words like "doomed," "failed," and "disaster" were thrown around freely and readily. It was a little unfair, perhaps, but what did I know?
I walked around sometimes, hands inevitably dotted by the fine rust covering every square inch of the planet. We tried to remove it, sweep it away from the White City, but it persisted and stayed regardless of human efforts--never quite willing to leave a corner spotless, a floor tile unsullied. And as I walked, I would reach the end of the line--the dome. I saw the dust storms kick up outside, and I could feel safely protected by whatever highly scientific material this was--but not enough to keep out every speck of rust.
I stared at Mars' twin moons, the sons orbiting their father. If I let my gaze stray a little further into the vacuum of space, I could see our old home--still a pale blue marble. We came from Earth, but that felt like so distant a memory.
Memory. But it was a memory. Of that, I was certain. Mars is home. But Earth was home. Why do I remember it like that?
My hand found itself pressed against the dome. Was I trying to break it in some sort of futile effort? Or just the reckless risk-prone teenager in me? I don't know.
But there was this feeling I couldn't shake. My home was out there. No, not on Earth. No, not in the White City. On the red planet itself, where the dust storm raged on unabated. On that particular day, I don't know how long I stood there, watching the storm kick itself up in a flurry unlike any I've seen or heard about before.
My mind wandered, out onto the red planet, into the twin moons, out into the space with oh so little stars, and an old, pale, blue home that somehow ached my heart. I heard the sirens, I think. But too late. My teenage hand could do nothing to the dome from the inside--but Mars' fury was something else. In the few moments that transpired as the cracks formed around my hand, I screamed, and rust found itself into every crevice, every nook and cranny of my body from inside and outside. Sensation flooded through every atom, and I coughed, and I shouted, and I cried, and everything my body ever did in distress, it did that until my throat was hoarse and my eyes burned and my fingernails dug like thorns deep into my palms.
But. But there was no distress. I don't know when I realized it, but I could breathe easy. I thought the fury of Mars was unabated. As I calmed down, it was a different story, however. The White City was built for humans, they had said, and outside of it was dangerous. But I was not bothered. The rust now coated every single bit of me, and I could not care less.
Mars is home. Not the White City, not the metal home I grew up in. I knew it as I walked on the ground, the rust sweeping itself around me, not with snapping jaws, but with loving pecks. And I walked, so, so much, my legs treading the ground tirelessly. It wasn't I that guided my legs, though. They just kept plodding assuredly, until I found a speck of white in the red, red rust of Mars.
It was familiar in a way I didn't understand. A distant memory. I pulled it out. I knew what it was, but I couldn't tell you the name of it for the life of me. But I put on what looked to be a small dome on my head, anyway, and stared out into space once more.
For some reason, my old home looked so much bluer from here.
---
r/dexdrafts |
The first time Mrs Ana Daniels noticed anything different about Estelle was like any other day. She had been doing chores while the baby lay calmly burbling in the morning sunlight after a feed, had managed a cup of tea and to put a wash on- even though Jimmy had gone to work this week and she was alone for the first time since the new arrival. As she walked down the hall, the light had become more dim. Returning to the nursery, she was met with resistance from the other side; panic swelled in her chest - Someone was in the room! But shoving with more of her strength she found tendrils of fern curling around the door. Twigs cracked under her finger tips as she forced entry, and what she was met with took her breath away. The room was a riot of green. The oak crib was gone, Estelle cradled in the trunk of a large tree. Ferns peeked out from under the window, and dry leaves crackled under her slippers. | 2021-04-26T09:11:47 | 2021-04-26T06:56:46 | 58 | 12 |
[WP] Your whole life you've been pressured to avenge your father's death. But honestly, as much as you loved your father, he kind of had it coming. | “An eye for an eye. That is the law!” Karen yells from across the dark room.
She did not sleep last night. On the wooden table between us rests father’s greatsword, polished steel blade glimmering in the dim light. She put the sword there, as she always does when consumed by bad mood. She trembles and impatiently shifts from one leg to another leg, sometimes stomping on the wooden floor boards hard, as if the boards killed her husband so many years ago. Wood creaks and her eyes are tired, poisoned by the madness of a March Hare plant. My father was a village healer, but not even he can heal the March Hare Madness.
Karen was not always like this. Grandfather says that she was the prettiest woman in the village. I don’t think he’s exaggerating. Some of her beauty is still there, when she’s not consumed by rage and anger. Tall and slender, with dark eyes and long hair color of the rich farm soil our village is blessed with… I can see why so many men would stop working and turn their heads toward her when she’d walk by.
“It’s the law!” she yells from half-light again, biting what's left of her nails and pulling the sleeve of her red dress. “You are eighteen now! How much longer are you going to wait to avenge your father’s death?”
I should kill him, it's the revenge law! The elders call it *Lex talionis*, and it has ruined me. Those same elders say that we’d have chaos without *Lex*. *Lex* limits what kind of punishment can inflict on the other. Some even tell tales of times before *Lex*, when the rule was favoring the strong and wealthy. *Lex* removes that inequality, they say. An eye for an eye. Never more and never less. We stand equal before the *Lex,* and as equal we fall.
Except, I don’t want to kill the man who ended father’s life.
I step forward and take the heavy sword from the table.
“Not today, Karen. Not today.” I say, almost as a whisper and more to myself than to a shell of a woman that used to be my mother once. I put the sword back to the closet she took it from. From the same closet, I take my father’s medicine bag with healing herbs and medical devices. I hang it around my shoulder and give Karen a soft kiss on her forehead. She clings onto me and yells “Avenge him!” as I open the door and exit our house onto the dirt path full of curious children eyes. Old eyes do not stare at me. They hide their sadness and look away because they know that living with someone consumed by March Hare Madness is worse than death.
“Hey,” Tom, a strong man and a good friend, says from across the road. “What are you up to?” But he doesn’t understand me.
I tap my medicine bag. “What do you think?”
“You know, your mother is right,” he says, scratching his nose the way he does when he’s annoyed. “It’s the law, and old Trent killed your father.”
I nod. He stabbed him three times in the neck when father visited his hut to try to heal him.
“It’s not right, Tom,” I say, “Old Trent--- I can’t do it.”
“But why? No one will care. He’s mad as a---” he stops.
“--- as a March hare?” I lift my eyebrow, in case he didn’t hear the tone of my voice.
“I’m--- I didn’t mean like that.”
“He has the same kind of madness like my mother, Tom. My father was taking care of him when the Old Trent killed him. It was an accident. Old Trent did not know what he was doing.”
“You can’t be sure about that!”
I give him another look and he lowers his head. And how do you know? He doesn’t, I do. From the moment I wake up till the moment I go to bed, I live with the crazy. I know all about March Hare Madness and the way it destroys lives of friends, family and anyone else who cares. He doesn’t. So he should be quiet.
“Whatever,” he says finally, “You are the one who is mad for healing the man who killed your father.”
For a while we walk in silence, past the murmuring crowd and whispering mouths. Few steps later, they start following us because we are on the way to Old Trent’s house and the sword is in my hand. By the time we reach the hut, the crowd counts more than fifty souls in need of bloody entertainment.
“My friend,” Tom says, “please do the right thing. Obey our laws. An eye for an eye, that’s how it goes.”
“I know,” I say and knock at the Old Trent’s house door. His wife Anna opens the door. Like my mother, Anna used to be beautiful once. Now, she is a ghost taking care of a madman. Today, there is a bruise on her left cheek.
“Come in,” she quietly says, lowering her head.
“Did he do that?” I ask her once she closes the door. The bruise is large and fresh and runs all the way down to her neck. The man--- the thing who did it is standing in the corner, talking to himself and stomping on the wooden floor like Karen. March Hare Madness does that.
“He had a bad day yesterday,” she says.
She says it too loud, so he gazes and hisses, and then lifts his fist in the air. The fist that is chained to the wall by a dark chain. Good, I won't need my sword. One day, Karen will be like him.
“I’m so sorry,” I say opening the medicine bag.
I’m not.
From the bag, I pull a small vial with green liquid.
“Give him this.” It’s an extract of the March Hare plant.
“It should help him.” The same kind of extract my father gave him and my mother because you persuaded him. Because my mother found out about you two.
Oh Anna, I know your secret.
“It will make him sleep.” He will scream and shout the whole night.
“He’ll calm down.” He’ll punch harder and more often.
“And soon, you’ll forget about what happened today.” Because it is going to be much worse.
She takes the vial. “Thank you. I don't know what I'd do without you.”
“You’re welcome.”
An eye for an eye. A life ruined by the March Hare Madness for a life ruined by the March Hare Madness. That is the law.
​
/r/ZwhoWrites | It was natural that they would turn to him to avenge the old warrior.
His father had been found with his body wrecked by magic, a withered husk, blood staining the snow a violent crimson that Ruwan could still picture as vividly as the day it had happened. The kingdom would have accepted it if he had been killed openly by an equal in battle.
But slain without a single witness to see the magic leave his body and weave its way back into the earth? A king, struck down and left to rot like an animal.
The insult was too much, and it was his son's burden to bear. He could understand it. His father's power had been a roaring fire, burning enemies small and large, keeping the kingdom safe for countless decades. Besides, he had been a bluff and honest man, as quick to forgive and uplift his allies as punish his foes. The masses still worshipped the old man, weeping openly on the anniversary of each Deathday. Deep in his heart, so did Ruwan.
He treaded softly so as not to startle the birds welcoming the day. Power was fed by all living things, and you never knew what you needed to rely on with an enemy at your throat. Even the smallest bird could send you aid when all seemed to be lost.
Ruwan never forgot the little lessons his father had ingrained in him, but built on them every day. He had gone further than his father ever did to discover the laws that ruled the magic most accepted as fixed and unmalleable. Wise as the man had been, he had not been all-knowing.
"Have you found out anything new, my Lord?"
He jumped slightly and turned to see Asa ghosting his steps. Every King had a permanent guard, he had known that would be his eventual lot even before his father's death, but it still grated on him. The woman was incessant in her duties, and skilled at shadow-walking. So good she forgot *not* to do it. A problem he might have to attend to.
He hid his surprise, stroking his beard as he turned to the memorial in the snow, a statue of his father standing proud. As he should have died in battle.
"Nothing useful, though I discover new leads every day. It will take time. But never doubt that I will find those that did this to my father. They should cherish the life they have left."
Asa bowed her head. "I don't doubt it, Lord. Your power has grown in leaps never seen before these past few years. When you find them, there will be nowhere to hide."
She wore a slight smile, her black eyes bottomless and unreadable in the soft dawn light.
Ruwan made himself turn his back to her.
"I have come to mourn, Asa. Leave me for this."
"Yes, my Lord."
He knew she would not depart far, but he needed to be alone with his thoughts. He curled his fists and ran her words through his mind once more. It was impossible to tell what the witch was thinking. Did she assume he had merely come into his power late, a natural growth? It happened in one's youth, sometimes. But rarely.
He took a breath and steadied himself. It was preposterous to think another would know about the most ancient of magic. It had taken him years to find the secret, years more to decipher and master the spells needed. Yet more time to gather the courage to drain the biggest source of power in the land. Power that, by all rights, should be passed down through the bloodlines. Power walking around out in the open, arrogant and certain of itself. Inviting its own demise, a cautious man would argue.
Still. That little, knowing smile of hers. It was a problem he might have to attend to. | 2019-10-22T09:50:42 | 2019-10-22T09:09:39 | 52 | 15 |
[WP] A group of teens gets super powers, but none of them match their personality. | ######[](#dropcap)
"Long time no see, Kevin." Christie grinned. "I see you've only gotten more rotund."
Kevin shifted on his horse, its coat sleek and dark as the midnight sky, trying to get more comfortable. "Hey, girl," he responded, giving a side eye to the girl whose horse was blood red. "I see you haven't given up on your fat jokes, huh?"
"Oh, come on! You've gotta admit it's funny!" She tugged down on her crop top, then glanced toward the portal. "Where are the others?"
"You know Perry's always late," Kevin said, then glanced toward the sky. One sun hung low in the sky, while the other was almost above their heads and was almost an electric blue, casting everything in a neon light. Here, time didn't really flow correctly, but he supposed there was no need for it to. They sat on top of what appeared to be a sand dune, but you couldn't particularly trust that again either. Nothing was real here.
His stomach grumbled again, and he pressed a chubby hand to it, pressing it inwards. A pity his power couldn't help him now.
It was moments later before a teenage boy with a checkered button down shirt, pressed trousers, and loafers appeared through the portal. "Hello guys." He peered around, then urged forward his horse, whose coat was as white as the smooth stones at the bottom of the river. He wrinkled his nose. "Why'd we have to meet here? It's so dirty."
He brushed a dead insect from his shirt, then joined them. Christie blew on a fingernail. "You'll have to ask Toto. He was the messenger." She then pulled out her cellphone and began to text, her long red fingernails clicking softly on the screen. "Don't know why we're meeting up anyway. Haven't even met up since the first seal was broken, and that's how I prefer it."
Kevin chuckled. "Oh, those were good times." He shifted, then finally pulled out a bag of chips he'd hidden away in the small pack on the side of his saddle.
Christie laughed. "Don't you feel ashamed? So many little boys went hungry because of you."
Kevin shrugged. "How do you think I stay fed?"
Perry rolled his eyes. "Right. Starve the world just to feed your ass."
Kevin bother responding through a mouthful of chips. He'd known the two for longer than he could remember, and they were always joking around. He tossed a couple toward Perry.
"Hey! Watch it!" Perry shouted, ducking. He brushed the crumbs off of his shirt, then glared at his long-time friend.
Kevin shrugged. Perry was always trying to stay as clean as possible. Pretty ironic, considering his ability was to create bugs that transmitted disease. And they always laughed at him for his ability.
Finally, the portal glowed again.
"Oh, thank god," Christie muttered, then tucked away her phone.
The small boy who appeared through the portal grinned at them. "Hey guys! Long time no see! I've missed you!"
Kevin fake-gagged, while Perry simply pushed up his glasses. Toto chuckled, then drove his horse forward. The ashy grey of its coat nearly blended in with the sand. If there was any irony to be found, it was with Toto. With blonde hair and plump cheeks, the boy looked like he should be advertising baby shampoo or something.
"So why have you called us here?" Christie crossed her arms over her chest. "I was just having fun."
"Yeah, now that Trump's in charge, I'm sure you have plenty of it. You're probably just whispering in his ear to drop a bomb on China."
"Hey!" Christie snapped. "It's not my fault that guy's mentally weak. What am I supposed to do, just not take advantage?"
"Guys, please," Toto said, raising a hand. They all looked toward him. "I know you guys have been doing your own thing for the past thousand or so years. But Perry, you can't be hanging out in the crops anymore, and Kevin, I'm sure you're sick of slumming it out." Then he glanced up toward the sky.
The timing was almost right. In a couple minutes, the suns would be correctly aligned.
"Okay, look. I don't have a ton of time to explain this, but we have a new assignment. A planet that's just blossoming called Iaria, and they're kind of in the stage where they'll need some population control soon."
Kevin rubbed his hands together. "Ooh, that sounds fun."
Christie thought about it for a moment. "Yeah, I would be down to take an assignment somewhere else. Earth is getting kind of boring anyway. Thanks, vampie." She pulled out her phone again and turned it to selfie-mode to make sure her makeup was in place. She wouldn't make the same mistake she'd made with the Emu War. The new planet wouldn't laugh when they thought of her.
Toto leveled a hard stare at her. "Stop calling me that."
"Besides not glowing, you kind of hit the rest of the requirements. You ever tell God how you stay so youthful?"
Toto simply sighed. "Come on, guys." Then he turned around and spurred his horse on, flying through the portal. The rest of them quickly followed suit.
*****
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8imb1k/wp_a_group_of_teens_gets_super_powers_but_none_of/dytjhum/) is out, and can also be found on my sub!
r/AlannaWu
| "This is retarded," Tyler scoffed, clearly agitated. "Why do we get put in the dumb people training class?"
"Don't use that word," Sophie snapped at Tyler, putting her books in her locker. "It's insensitive and ignorant of you to use it like that."
"Oh, super sweet Sophie is here to save the day." Tyler challenged. This was the moment Tucker stepped between them.
"Knock it off, guys. We all know why we got put in the junior training class. We are too out of touch with our powers to be in the regular one. It's not a bad thought, let's just try to make the best of things."
Tyler, Tucker, Sophie and Sammi had been friends since they all got their powers at the same time. It was normal for children to notice their powers starting to develop around 5, but the 4 were all late bloomers, and after a small backyard incident when they were 12, they all got full blown abilities all at once. The only problem was that they all seemed to have the wrong powers.
Tyler, the hot headed jock had the ability to make people fall asleep, a power he didn't use due to his love for attention.
Sophie, who was a bleeding heart liberal with a love for poetry, her power was mimicry. Though it seemed to prove more annoying than anything else, so this went underutilized as well.
Tucker, who was the kind\-hearted neutral one in their friend group, had the power of silence. He could sneak anywhere undetected. However, he had no reason to be invisible, seeing as he seldom misbehaved.
Sammi loved nature and was a self\-proclaimed hippie. She did everything she could at any chance to save the environment. Of course, this meant she had the ability to release a very toxic gas, which tended to pollute everything it came in contact with.
The group walked to the school gym together, Sammi and Sophie linked arms. "I wish I could mimic people," Sammi cooed. "I'd get those self\-righteous politicians on the phone and trick them in to fighting for the cause."
"Sammi, you have the best power of all," Tyler said. "I'd kill to be able to poison my enemies."
"But you can help people rest," Tucker protested "I'd like to think of all the arguments that would have ended better if the parties hadn't been so grouchy."
Sophie looked over at her friend. "Don't sell yourself short, Tucker. Sometimes silence is the most powerful sound."
It seemed as though the teens had all had the power meant for them switched with somebody else. They all concluded learning to live with these abilities as they were was the best option, as they headed in to the gym for their junior training class. | 2018-05-11T06:09:00 | 2018-05-11T05:05:30 | 66 | 42 |
[WP] A demon who is really bad at his job keeps accidentally making the person he is possessing's life better | "Look, I tried my best. Standard routine. Seven deadly sins.
Start off with the easy one right, LUST. I get him to oogle this pretty girl walking passed, get all those immoral thoughts in his head you know. What does she do? Smile back! They start talking. Next thing you know, they're on a date. Now they're married. Yeah, I know, what are the chances right!?
So I think GLUTTONY. Get him nice and fat. Maybe it'll make this new wife divorce him. So I get him eating. And eating. And what does he do? He loves eating so much, he learns how to cook. Wife loves him even more. He's found some new hobby that makes him happy. And he doesn't even go near McDonalds. The guy grows stuff in his fricking garden! Natural ingredients...organic... urgh, makes me sick.
Okay, so GREED. This is simple. Greed always works. He's got a quiet job, works hard, and is happy with what he has. So I get him to think big, think more, think about getting rich. I keep him up all night thinking about it. Until the next morning, he walks into work, straight to his boss's office, and tells him "I want a raise". Turns out, the boss loves this guy, but thought he was too soft for a promotion. Admired the balls it took to ask for a raise, and happy as anything, tells him he will be heading the new division of their company. Makes me sick.
So I'm getting scared now. SLOTH. How can sloth go wrong? He's meant to pick up his wife this evening right. So I get him really lazy. Get him to forget, fall asleep in front of the TV. Small thing I know, but I'm running out of hope. And sometimes the small stuff works best. Well she get's home, angry. Wakes him up. They have an argument! It's going perfect. They keep arguing. And then they start talking. And they have this lovey dovey moment where they forgive each other. And then they "go forth and multiply". This isn't how it's meant to work! Now they got a kid. They love him to bits. He's a cute kid, but this whole thing is going wrong.
WRATH next. WRATH is a hard one. It's not something you can work up easily in a person. It takes time, you need to set it bubbling. Like boiling water on a small fire, or blowing up a balloon. It takes time, but then there is a moment it all snaps. So I spend years working on this guy's wrath. Years. I'm playing the long game. I almost got him ready to blow. I'm just waiting to get the right trigger, whether it's the small cute kid he has running around his house, or his wife, or his old parents, I want to find something juicy. Well before I can get it right, something else happens. He's walking home from work late, and passing through a quiet road, he see's another demons project. A good guy getting mugged by a gang. Well, usually my guy would call the cops and leave it. But I've got him all wrath'ed up. And he snaps. Runs over, stops them, doesn't even call the cops. He's shouting at them, eventually starts fighting one of them. The others run off, thinking this is all going pear-shaped. Cops arrive a bit later. Turns out it was all caught by some guy on his iPhone from his flat. Video goes viral. The man becomes a hero and suddenly everyone's talking about how we can't be bystanders anymore. I'm devastated. I mean this is years of work down the drain.
ENVY. I don't even want to try this. I'm sick of it all. But it's next in the playbook. There are very few ways ENVY can go wrong though. You shouldn't want what others have, full stop, especially neighbours. Well I get him to start looking at his neighbour. He's retired, much older than my guy, spends all day gardening, playing with his grandkids, reading books. I make him envious of this guy's lifestyle, while he's at work most hours, barely sees his family, only the odd holiday. The key with envy is that it leads to discontent, which leads to frustration. It starts with the small things, you stop enjoying the things you love, you start complaining more, people stop enjoying your company. It's a disease, it ruins your relationships, your happy moments, keep you from enjoying what you have. Well, my guy decides he doesn't enjoy his job anymore. That he wants to live a retired lifestyle, but he's mid thirties, so he can't. Except he did. He quit his job. Invests his money into a few different local businesses, and starts working two days freelancing instead. He has less money now, but he spends time more time with his kid and wife, and they have a new one coming, and he's all... happy.
PRIDE. I've already given up. What can PRIDE do when all six previous sins didn't work. But the Big Boss reminds me, PRIDE is the big one. When a person is happy, and has it all, PRIDE makes them think they're better than others, that they did it themselves. PRIDE is last because it's often a person's biggest downfall. Never give up on PRIDE. The difficulty is that you don't know how PRIDE manifests. A person can die happy and proud, but it's enough to make him a horrible human being.
I'll never know if PRIDE has worked by the way. Not until he get's to the Pearly Gates and is told no. Still... a demon's gotta try"
| The Nameless One awakened.
Somewhere. someone had summoned him. Acknowledged his existence.
Out of the eternal darkness he materialized, searching for the one.
*Ah. A mortal*
TNO saw the creature now.
A human male-bearded bespectacled rotund reading from an ancient tome.
*The Fool. Did he realise?*
That ancient text of terror held the key to unleashing the nameless one. The old evil?
The mans eyes jerked open. he was the nameless ones now. This was going to be fun
He walked out of the room, down the stairs of his attic.
"Keith go the shops and get some milk. you never do anything. fuck. Such a useless bf"
The posessed man turned.
*Such fun!*
FUCK YOU JEZEBEL YOU THE VILEST, MOST SLOVENLY CREATURES, ARE NOT FIT TO WALK EVEN NEAR ME. I BANISH THEE FROM THIS DOMICILE I WOULD.
Possessed Keith pulled down his pants and screamed, climbing backwards up the wall, shitting as he did so.
The woman ran from the room in hysterics.
TNO laughed and Keith fell from the ceiling with a sickening crunch, crashing through the floorboards below.
*Oops*
Keith was fund covered in poo in his neighbours kitchen. He left hospital 3 months later, 50kg lighter, no girlfriend and a large insurance payout. Constant thrashing in his sleep and mumbling really helped in the court case. Did wonders for weight loss also.
Keith walked down the street calm. Shit streak of luck, but he was out of hospital and feeling o.k. Even scored a nurses number.
*KEEEEEIIIITHHH*
*I'MM BAAAAAACK*
*NICE LEGS KEITH. CAN YOU DANCE WITH THEM?*
Keith began to contort on the street, streetlight flickering creating a strobe effect.
People began to throw money at him.
*WHAT?*
*DO YOU LIKE MY VOICE KEITH*
An eery wail emmanated from Keiths lips... phones were out and recording now. Breakdancing opera singer reached 500k views overnight.
After an appearance on several breakfast shows Keith "I dont know what came over me" Smith.
He returned home life somehow better.
TNO perservered
*YOU WILL DIE ALONE KEITH. I WILL SHOW YOU THE FUTURE*
Keith saw himself- crying in a hotel room by himself. On the TV the Geelong cats were thrashing his beloved Sydney swans 100-0.
*DO YOU SEE*
Swans would lose 100-0?
*NOT THE POINT*
Probably should put a bet on with all the luck lately.
*WHAT*
Tears of happiness perhaps after putting so much insurance money on the cats?
*AH FUCK NOT THIS PARADOX SHIT AGA-*
| 2014-09-04T06:01:23 | 2014-09-04T05:25:31 | 243 | 49 |
[WP] When people turn 18, they gain the power to summon 1 random thing in the world to their hand, as Thor does to Mjolnir. Summoned people are considered soulmates, and objects as important parts of one's life. When you summon yours, it takes some time, but people are horrified when it arrives... | My first time posting here. Hope you enjoy!
**************************************
I think it was my birthday. I wasn’t sure – birthdays hadn’t meant anything for years, but I think it was my 18th birthday.
So, here I was, a slave who just turned 18. It all happened after the invasion. My parent were simple farmers living outside the village. I was happy back then. I helped my Da in the fields while my Ma and my sister cooked the meals and kept the house.
Rest-day was the best – me and Da would get cleaned up after working in the dusty fields all week while the women cleaned away the dishes. We’d gather around the village bonfire with our neighbors, and the music would play and everyone danced! It was magical!
Back then, turning 18 was a gift. You’d reach out, and something wondrous would come to you. For my Da, it was my Ma. That was rare – getting a soulmate was special. Most people got things, but very special things. Like, the magister of the village got a gavel. No-one could ever lie to him, and justice was fair and equal. The seamstress got a needle, and could sew so fast her hands were a blur, and never made a mistake.
But then the invasion happened. It was quick and bloody. My Da was killed, my Ma was taken away to the kitchens were she was later beaten to death because she served some soup that was too cold. I was 12 when that happened. My sister was sent to the camps, and I haven’t seen or heard from her since.
The village was burned, men and elders killed, women and children enslaved. I was sent to the officer’s section. I polished boots, ironed uniforms and did all the odds jobs no-one else wanted. I slept in dirt and was beaten daily. I was painfully thin and wore rags. My days were spent trying to avoid notice, and I was fairly good at it. It's the reason I was still alive – I didn’t look older than maybe 14 or 15, and was skilled at being overlooked. Of all the boys my age who had been enslaved that fateful day, I was the only survivor.
Odd how the summoning had changed since then – before, you never knew what you’d get, but you knew it would be wonderful and joyous. Now, it was poison every time. The invaders learned quickly to keep an eye on the girls on their day of summoning – too many young women drank the poison before it could be snatched away.
I guess they forgot about me. They certainly didn’t care if I lived or died. My existence was meaningless and empty, and from what I had seen, the poison was quick and painless. You’d fall asleep as soon as it passed your lips, and a few minutes later, you were gone. Quickly and peacefully.
I did my chores that night with only one ringing slap to my head. I crept away and waited until the camp was quiet. I held out my hand, ready for the poison to take me away from this horrible life.
Nothing happened. Maybe I was wrong about my birthday? I don’t think so. I tried again, and I felt something, but… still nothing. One more time, straining, crying, tears streaking my grimy face, please take me away! I sobbed uncontrollably, foolishly getting the attention of one of the guards. “Oh, so it’s yer’ summoning, is it boy? Good – looks like I’m the one who’s getting a present….” and he trailed off in silence. Softly at first, then growing louder, it was hard to tell what the sound was. At first it was just the ground shuddering faintly, but it got stronger. You could hear metal clinking, and something that sounded like sticks banging together. The guard forgot about me and ran into the camp, raising the alarm.
The invaders had been at war for a long time, and were good at it. Lines formed quickly, but they were not prepared. No one could ever prepare. The attacking army was ruthless, unrelenting and completely unstoppable. The screams were terrible. The invaders were butchered. Every soldier had been torn to pieces within the hour.
When it was over, only the slaves were still alive. As one, the conquerors turned to face me, placed one hand over their hearts and dropped to a knee, all bowing in allegiance.
I had summoned an army. An army of those killed unjustly by the invading horde. The undead army stood before me, victims no more, but victors out for justice. I would avenge my family, my village, and my life. | I was about to turn 18 when my parents told me that such is possible.
I did not want to believe it, at all - it was very crazy sounding but all this would explain why my mother and father are both insanely talented with one thing. Like, really talented. My father is selling books like wildfire burning and my mother is a respected dancer. She is home during the day, but away during the evening because of a performance she has to attend to.
And now it was almost my turn.
It was some time to look forward, but finally, it had arrived. My 18th birthday. So, it was finally time for the summon. It took a lot of concentration, but I did it. Or at least I thought so. 'Cause nothing happened.
"Uh...wasn't I supposed to get something?" I asked, curiously.
"Of course you will! It just...takes time, depending on what you want." My mother answered, smiling, being sure it was something very good.
It took a hour, but finally I had it. I opened my hands as the object hovered right into my hands. After getting it, I closed it. My parents were so curious about what I did get, so I showed it to them.
Their smiles dropped. My father was in shock, my mother in disbelief. It was a raven feather.
Swarm of ravens are considered as a bad omen almost everywhere. They pick on bodies, bring bad luck and such. Here, they are treated as the foreseers of doomsday, the guardians of something cataclysmic. The object will turn into an important part of one's life. My parents wanted to make sure it is a misunderstanding, but it wasn't.
Yes, it will be somewhat of an unusual life knowing that, as the leader of ravens, I could bring calamity over anything here.
Not exactly what I wanted to become when I grow up, but I suppose I gotta live with it. This will be fun. | 2019-09-18T09:45:02 | 2019-09-18T08:53:53 | 71 | 30 |
[WP] On everyone's 18th birthday at noon, one word appears in their skin, depicting their career or purpose in life. On your birthday you're staring at a clock showing 11:59am, family and friends gathered around for your reveal.
Path 1: Noon strikes, and you stare at your forearm intently. 12:01, still nothing appears.
Path 2: one word fades in slowly, followed by a second... | Ok, this may be a little late but let's see how it goes. Also, I have never written before (besides essays in college) so there may be a bunch of grammatical errors.
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The day had finally come. It was Name Day. The day your future is mapped by a single word that appears along the right wrist. Normally Name Day is a private affair with your closest family and friends but our town had decided to make a spectacle of ours. This was the first set of twins to our relatively small town of a few small thousand. I personally don't see what all the fuss is about seeing as my sister Ashley and I are just fraternal twins. It's no different than other siblings. I guess the excitement of two Name Days is wild enough to excite the people around here.
11:52 am
Only 8 more minutes to go until our reveal. There is a buzz around the high school auditorium. You can faintly hear the chatter of residents trying to guess what our paths will be. I already know what my sisters will be. I have always had a knack for this growing up. Every Name Day I have attended for close friends and family I just knew. Cousin Rob was going to be a teacher. He was always good at helping me with my homework it so I wasn't surprised when the letters appeared on his right wrist. Same with my best friend Jason. Athlete. Ashley's closest friend. Dancer. These were easy so it's no surprise that most people had already figured them out well before I did. It was the times that no one was right and I guessed it that gave me the most satisfaction. The only one that I could never guess was myself. I felt like there were millions of possibility and they were all mine but nothing stood out. Nothing grabbed me by the throat and revealed itself like so many others. There wasn't normal gut feeling that convinced me I was right. Just the emptiness of a million possibilities.
11:59 am
1 minute to go and I can still hear the residents commenting on what our wrists will reveal. Actor... Scholar... Janitor... Politician... All different varieties of professions just like when I tried to focus on what I felt I would get. It was kind of refreshing to know I wasn't the only on having trouble deciphering what my path will be. And also a tad terrifying.
"Ok everyone take your seats! The reveal is about to commence," exclaimed Mayor Gunderson into the microphone.
12:00 pm
The auditorium falls to a hush as they prepare for my reading. It was decided that I would go first as I was born before Ashley. Then they would reveal hers.
The family has gathered around and I feel a slight euphoric sensation as my wrist begins to tingle. Letters slowly start appearing along my arm one after another.
S.U.C.C.E.S.S.O.R
Successor? What does that even mean? No one has seen successor before.
Mayor Gunderson speaks softly into the microphone, "He has been given Successor."
The auditorium begins to rise in volume as people discuss the possibility. Successor to what? The President? My father? Who?
"Please calm down everyone. We will have time to discuss this after the revealing is completed. Let's see what path Ashley has been given," said the mayor.
The auditorium once again falls to a soft murmur. The family gathers around Ashley to see her path yet her wrist is blank. An uneasiness is falling over the crowd and Ashley looks disturbed. This has never happened before. What does it mean? It makes no sense. I have always known what Ashley was meant to be. I had the gut feeling from a very young age when we would be laying down for bedtime and I could hear her softly singing. She had an angelic voice and that was her calling.
"This makes no sense. I've known what Ashley was meant to be since we were kids. She is going to be a singer," I said.
Just as the words left my mouth the letters began to appear on her arm.
S.I.N.G.E.R. | The Whaler
The clock strikes 12:00
A word is writ
Upon my arm
My life is split
One-half of me on the shore
The braver half, it longs for more
For every day out on the sea
Another hunt, and life for me
Half the life is black and cold
Its skin and bones, bought and sold
Fortune, spoils, warmth, and greed
A salior's life, a life for me
Half the life is white and stark
For barren is my sea and heart
The void and depth we plot and mark
Adrift will stay my noble ark
Upon the vessel, I must go
To hunt a whale I do not know
My life will be short and brief
A whalers life, a life for me
A tattoo sits upon my arm
My father wore it with no harm
I know not what he wants for me
He sleeps now with the fish at sea
This work is not my dream, I know
One day I'll spend my days below
For I do not know how to swim
A sailor's life, a life for him
| 2017-03-16T06:31:54 | 2017-03-16T04:24:31 | 28 | 18 |
[WP]everyone has a sigil on their body that represents powers that were bestowed onto humanity after the rapture of the Milky Way. The bullies at school always pick on you because you never used your power, but you’ve had enough. Now they are going to find out why your sigil is a plain old circle | As I sat in the dark holding room, my only companions a security camera programmed to turn left and right on a ten second cycle and a cold metal table I was now handcuffed to, I continued my replaying of the events in my head. Better to keep things straight for when the Good Cop/Bad Cop routine starts.
I'd just had enough. I'd just had enough of feeling unsafe every time I stepped off the bus and walked into that garbage school. That smug moron with the firecracker marked on his wrist, his deceptively meek partner-in-crime with a radio signal on the back of his neck, they were my tormentors in my daily Hell. The second I walked through those doors, every morning, I would hear a pop like a gunshot, proceeded by rapid sizzling and shrieks of shrill air, and that sound would continue every thirty to fourty five minutes for the rest of the day. If I tried to confront them, they would hit me with another wave of sound that fried all my senses. If I went to my teachers, I was told to "ignore it".
I knew why. I was a target because everyone else flaunted their powers. In their eyes, I was too good to use my power in front of them, or I was just lazy, or both. In truth, I'd only used my power once before. I caught my sister rummaging through my things for something to pawn, for the umpteenth time. Something inside me just snapped, and I used my power for the first time.
The police investigation ruled it as a drug overdose, and my parents were more worried about how I felt. I felt like a murderer. The worst part is, she's not dead. She's still in the hospital, and she will be for the rest of her life.
Today was the anniversary of the day I used my power for the first time. Not something I would celebrate, maybe other people, but I like to think I'm not a sociopath. Today I just wanted to be left alone, so instead of entering through the front of the school, I figured I would try and sneak in the back.
Of all the people to grab my arm as I came through the door, it had to be the Vice Principal. Under his left eye was a birthmark like a teardrop, and the second he touched me, I felt like I was going to burst into tears. When he made physical contact with someone, they felt an overwhelming avalanche of emotion, meant to coax them into telling the truth. I immediately screamed, saying I just wanted to be left alone.
His grip clenched around my arm tighter. He barked into my face again, demanding whatever truth he thought he was going to get out of me. It was like an overload of not just all my senses, but my brain simultaneously screaming to be let out of my skull, until finally I couldn't take it anymore. The circle on my forehead began burning a bright yellow, and the Vice Principal collapsed to the ground, convulsing and frothing at the mouth as he slipped into a vegetative state.
I ran. I'm not an idea person, that was just all I had right now, my two left feet and lungs to breathe. I started running and didn't stop. I must've broken a record for something before the cop car snapped me back to reality.
Now comes the hard part. I can be honest, I can tell them that I snapped and just wanted to be left alone. I can tell them I was walking in the back to avoid my bullies. Whether or not they believe me or even care, that's not the hard part.
The hard part is going to be explaining how my power works.
The Vice Principal wasn't just in a medically induced coma. His body was shut down, and his mind was now trapped in a loop. He's currently reliving every time he ever hurt someone, from a third-person perspective. He's made to watch as every kid he screamed at went home and cried into a pillow, or dropped out of school, or started playing with their dad's razors. He has to face everyone he's ever hurt, and beg for forgiveness. If he can do that, the loop will break, and he'll wake up.
Most people can't change. It's not impossible, but it's like trying to make coal into a diamond. If everyone could change, if people were perfect, the world would be perfect. Instead, we just have an infinite circle of hate and misunderstanding that self-perpetuates, all to keep our fragile minds from looking back and realizing the infinity of lives we've changed, not all of them for the better.
Breaking the circle is an act in-of itself self-destruction. To change yourself *is* to destroy yourself. Break the circle and break yourself, or maintain the circle and maintain the cycle of pain. Destruction or Self-destruction.
...I always fucking hated geometry. | I dont know how many of you are interested in biology, and i dont know how many of you know how a human fetus developes inside the womb. But we all start as a circle, a ring if you will.
Andrew was this dude at my school, who was probably the most popular kid, had one of the coolest powers (basically he was johnny the flame), was incredibly good looking and decided to use his free time in school to bully me. Also he didn't know how a fetus develops.
You are probably wondering why I keep bringing this up, and I can understand that it might confuse or annoy you. But believe me when I say it is important.
It was the first day of school after summer break and I decided to no longer play their game. The last five years have been hell and I was tired of it. I decided that this year would be different. The thing is, my power was not very cool, or fancy, but very effective, harmful and very gross. That's why I was never allowed to use it, after my parents found out what it was.
Anyway, walking in on the first day of school, I knew what was coming. Andrew approached me, wanted to do the same old routine of pouring chocolate milk in my school bag, punching me, putting trash in my locker, but this time he didn't really have a chance to do that. He started to talk: "Hey loser, did you miss-" his sentence ruptured.
But his sentence was not the only thing that ruptured.
If you remember what I told you in the beginning, you probably know what comes next. The first thing that develops on a human fetus is the anus, and fighting or doing basically anything with a ruptured sphincter is hard.
The last thing I enjoyed before I got suspended from school, is Andrews walk of shame to the toilet, while feces was running down his pants. Worth it. | 2020-02-26T10:43:17 | 2020-02-26T09:05:57 | 24 | 13 |
[WP] Today is 08/28/20. Your 20th birthday. You go to take a shower and close your eyes under the warm water. When you reopen them you find yourself in handcuffs and an orange jumpsuit sitting in a courtroom. Utterly confused you turn to the judge and ask the date. Today is your 40th birthday.
\*Edit Wow I was not expecting this to become so popular. I like to browse r/WritingPrompts sometimes and when I thought of this prompt I just had to share it. Thanks for all the responses, I'm going to try to read thru them all. :) | With the hot water streaming down my head and neck, I closed my eyes so that I might more fully immerse myself in the relaxation of the shower. In this moment, there were no noises or responsibilities beyond myself and beyond the simple pleasure of calm. Only the faint pattering of rivulets and drops of water served to tether me to the material world, and even those slowly faded out as my mind began to wander…
Yet, there was a strange sensation forming now, one that I couldn’t quite place. No, it was as if the water was evaporating before it hit my skin, for the continuous pattering that I had only a moment ago been experiencing was rapidly diminishing, becoming intermittent and increasingly subtle. And my skin, which had previously been absolutely unburdened, was now feeling weighty and dry. If the sensations of reality were crashing down around me, the final impact was when I could almost tangibly feel my hands snap together behind my back. Mired in confusion, I opened my eyes and turned around.
A judge, sitting behind a large and imposing wooden platform, stared back. My field of view broadening by the moment as I looked back and forth, I began to notice the courtroom I was in. The walls were white-painted concrete block with hastily attached light fixtures that gave off a dim glow. The paint on the low stucco ceiling was flaking off, and in some places, large chunks of the underlying material were visible. The benches and desks of the courtroom looked poorly-constructed and spongy plywood was revealed by a mosaic pattern of bumps, dents, and scratches.
Taking all this in, however, did not serve to alleviate my confusion. Still feeling somewhat unsteady, I managed to make eye contact with the judge and stammer out, “What’s going on?”
The judge, a large man wearing an equally large wig, looked back somewhat contemptuously and replied in a flat and disinterested voice, “You would do well to remember that we are the ones providing this courtesy to you.” Rolls of fat adorned with spherical corpuscles jostled in various directions before eventually settling in an equally contemptuous pose. From behind me, I could hear vague murmurs of affirmation or agreement.
“But,” I sputtered again, “where am I? What’s the time?” The murmurs from behind made themselves known again, this time with a somewhat amused tone.
The judge, readjusting his blubberous extremities, compelled his lips to move once again and uttered matter-of-factly with an air of superiority, “You are in courtroom 4 of the New Concord Rehabilitation Facility. It is…” he checked his watch, a gaudy gold affair, “6:50 PM, the 28th of August, 2040.” I noticed that he droned out this declaration noticeably slowly, as if he were concerned I would be unable to understand a standardly-paced delivery.
I gazed in a somewhat slack-jawed manner in the judge’s general direction. 2040? What? What was I doing 20 years in the future? Likely alerted by this change in behaviour, a woman in a cheap grey suit approached me from the side. She began to speak in the same slow and patronizing manner as the judge.
“I’m Ms. Livingstone, your court-appointed lawyer. … The procedure can leave you a bit confused at first, but that will clear. … Can you nod if you understand?”
More than a little bit insulted, I directed a caustic look in her direction before replying in a somewhat mockingly slow voice of my own, “No, I don’t understand. What procedure?!”
The judge, who was at this point attempting to reach around and scratch his back, abandoned that venture and directed his attention to spitting out another lifeless and mocking set of sentences at me. “As a reward for good behaviour, this court has granted access to some of your memories, circa 20 years ago. Normally, lifers like you don’t get memory privileges: too dangerous. However, the fine people at the investigations branch say that you helped them identify some troublesome inmates in your old wing, and as a reward, we’ve allowed you to temporarily access your memories from before your incarceration. In a few minutes, you’re going to re-sync with your present identity and are going to be escorted back to your cell.”
Ms. Livingstone smiled encouragingly and mouthed “It’s gonna be alright.” Two burly men in black uniforms emerged from doors at the end of the courtroom and headed towards me, indicating towards the large central door directly behind me. Powerless and still confused, I dejectedly walked towards it and then through it into a long, white, concrete hallway. Faces I was starting to remember peered out of barred openings periodically carved into the corridor. At first, they stared quietly, but soon some started to whisper questions to me. “Who were you?” “What was it like?” “What can you remember?” I wish I had answered them.
When we finally arrived at my cell, the memory was fading. The feeling of the water droplets on my skin seemed dreamlike and faraway. Eventually it reached the point where I was simply imagining it, and then I had trouble focusing on what I was trying to imagine. Entangled in this miring slowness, I twisted around frantically, desperate to find something to record what little I could still remember.
*Deep in the bowels of a labyrinthine facility lies an unmarked cell, the single occupant of which shall remain nameless. This is a person without a past, and to whom the future may as well be identical to the present. Behind them lies a void, an absence that should contain all the things you and I might call an identity. Before them lies a cacophony of random noise, of days that are all identical and equally obscure. And in the present, that ever-fleeting moment within which all action must take place, there is nothing to write on the walls with.*
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*If you'd like to read more of my things, head on over to* r/DaeridaniiWrites | I hop into the shower, having made sure that the temperature was comfortable. I close my eyes, enjoying the nice, warm temperature. I use these seconds to prepare for what’s to come, the dream.
My eyelids rocket open, a cool air rattling me. I look around, I see tall people dressed in fancy, stiff clothing, yet oddly, it’s all the same shade or bright grey. I see wooden, cushioned benches, a bright light above me, but I can’t figure out where the source is. I glance down, and see that I’m in a bright orange jumpsuit labeled, BioCriminal 79. BioCriminal, what does that even mean? I know for sure I’ve never broken any major laws, so why am I here? I look around, and hope that someone can answer my question. I see someone in the center of the very front of the room. That person is dressed in pitch black clothing, different from the drab greys of everyone else.
I raise my voice to the person at the center, “why am I here? I should be in the Renaj Facility.”
“You sir, are here for unlawful biofreezing, period, twenty years,” the person says sternly.
“But thats... not illegal,” I reply, confused.
“I think we have now received verbal evidence that this biofreezing was purposeful, and thus you are sentenced to the Guillotine. Have a Governmental day,” the... judge says robotically, like he’s said it every day. “Another one to add to the pile,” he mutters... proudly?
The weight of the situation I’m in instantly crushes me, I’m going to die, I waited all this time to get executed? I think not. I stand up and sprint to a black door behind me, a force jolts my back, and I realize someone has grabbed me. I struggle, I try to attack the person on me with my hands, but I can’t, i see that I’m handcuffed.
“WAIT, THE HEll ARE YOU DOING. THIS ISN’T WHAT WAS SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN. I EXPECTED UTOPIA, NOT THIS DYSTOPIA,” I screech at whoever will listen. This wasn’t how this was supposed to end up, I start to hyperventilate, my breath becoming more and more erratic. The world was supposed to be solved, death was supposed to be eradicated, so why, why, why, why are people being put to death?
“Death is gone... utopia should be achieved, so why are you killing people, in utopia there is no death, so why?!” I exclaim, defeated.
“You fool, some people always need to be eliminated to achieve utopia. Those who did not persevere through the formative years of the Government have no business being alive,” Passion emanates from the judge. “The utopia thrives without those like you.”
Shorter one this time round, but didn’t feel like writing for too long today.
Tips always appreciated!
r/CascadeCorner | 2020-08-28T19:30:46 | 2020-08-28T16:32:05 | 1,587 | 96 |
[WP] Aliens invade earth. To the surprise of humans, the alien's weaponry is pitifully outdated. | It was a typical summer day in the rural Midwest when the armada touched down in a bright open field just off the single lane highway. One of the quaint power lines was knocked over resulting in a disgruntled old woman calling the county sheriff because she knew no other numbers. It was a slow day for the law as usual in these parts, so around ten minutes ticked by before the sheriff and his deputies pulled up to the scene of the knocked over pole. Deputy Lawrence used an insulated pole from the back of the department's SUV to move the cables off the roadway. Half way through the procedure, the stealth systems disengaged and alien legions began deploying from the ships. The three of them looked up in awe; wide eyes shielded by their mirrored aviators.
"Filth! You have breached our landing zone! As such, you will be the first to die in the on-setting war!" Shouted an alien in regal attire. They were thin and lanky, but certainly numerous. Their attire was ornate flowing cloth and their weapons were shimmering silver with static sparks snapping along their lengths.
"Oh shit!" Deputy Simmons spat. The three of them promptly scampering for cover behind their squad car and SUV.
"Aliens! Are you kidding me?!" Deputy Lawrence shouted in disbelief.
The sheriff rose with his weapon drawn from behind his car leveling it at the invaders.
"Look here. We're not going to stand for an alien invasion. You lot need to pack up and get out of here!" The sheriff rambled. His police training falling short in extra terrestrial diplomacy.
"Just leave!? Slay this savage for his insolence!" The regal alien shouted in anger.
The sheriff was immediately blasted by alien weapon fire. The deputies looked on in horror. The firing subsided and the sheriff stood with his hands covering his face, eyes clenched shut, teeth gritted. He was fine.
The regal one gazed on in confusion.
The sheriff and his deputies shared glances of disbelief before the sheriff fired his revolver into the legion on impulse. The bullet sheered through ranks in a straight line; aliens burst into flames from the heat of the bullet and their less dense bodies shattered. Their physical frames and weapons were no match for that of Boff county's finest. The lone .38 special round tore its way though 16 alien legionaries and set another eight on fire from peripheral flames.
"Whoa." Was all that he could say.
The regal one looked back in horror.
The deputies rose to see what had transpired only to be stricken with further disbelief. They too opened fire. The ranks of the legions were blowing to pieces and bursting into flames on a grans scale.
"Charge! Destroy them at all costs!" The regal one screamed in terror.
The legions stormed the highway taking heavy losses from their charge. Their projectiles bounced harmlessly off the officers with the effect of a BB gun. Once in melee range, the aliens began to savagely bludgeon the sheriff and his deputies. It was to no avail. Deputy Simmons kicked at one knocking it clean in half. At that instant all intensity drained from the situation as the officers realized they were in no real danger. The officers kicked and punched their way through the alien army with ease. Already facing a 60% loss in forces, the regal one called for a retreat. A stray bullet caught one of the ships. The vessel collapsed in ruin pulverizing itself under its own weight. Only a hand full of aliens and their ships survived to retreat from the encounter. The remnants were so frail they had literally turned to ashes, leaving no evidence of their presence. The officers watched as the five remaining ships departed. A bird hit one, dropping it from the sky and disintegrating it and its passengers upon contact with the Earth. The bird recovered mid fall and went back on its way.
"Gah! We had our body cameras turned off! No one is going to believe this!" Deputy Simmons shouted.
"Shit! You're right!" The sheriff replied.
"We stopped an alien invasion and no one will ever know." Deputy Lawrence sighed.
The three of them stood around with their hands on their hips catching their breath for a few minutes in silence.
"Well, lets get that cable off the road." The sheriff said finally. The three of them started walking back to the highway.
"I wonder if that bird is ok." Deputy Simmons said. A minute later a junker of a pick up truck rolled up. A local leaned out the window.
"Everything alright sheriff?" The local asked.
"Yeah, just getting some downed power lines off the road." The sheriff answered.
"All three of you? What a waste of tax dollars." The local grumbled as he pulled his head back in his truck and continued on his way.
"Dick." Deputy Lawrence murmured to the others. | "They are attacking us with WHAT?"
"Rocks sir. NASA has determined that they are using rocks."
"Well, thats a relief. I'm sure the ISM can take them out easily. I'm going back to bed."
"Sir, I respectfully suggest that you head down to meeting room 3. The head of ISM has initiated an emergency meeting. The Global Council's representatives are being flown in as we speak."
"At this time? Jesus, how bad can a few rocks be? I've been up for the last 16 hours drafting the trade treaty for the blasted aliens. How did this happen?"
"It was Johnson Sir. He stepped on the diplomat's pet rock when he was carrying a tray of coffee into the room. Crushed it to dust. They've declared war on us."
"Bloody hell. He spilled tea on my best suit last week. Figures that he would start an 'intergalatic' war. No matter. Last I check, they are barely even fusion powered. Heck, they don't even have a world. All they have is some giant floating mish-mash platform floating in space. Why can't we blow them out of the heavens? We've got the new anti-matter propulsion fighters things that General Yvonne won't stop yapping about. "
"Its the rocks sir-"
"STOP IT WITH THE ROCKS! I KNOW JOHNSON STEPPED ON THEIR PET ROCK. GIVE THEM ONE FROM MT.FUJI THEN!"
"They've stuck nuclear propulsion to asteroids sir. 28,349 at last estimate. We don't have enough missiles or fighters. We can destroy their station but... we'll be crushed."
"I'm on my way."
-Click-
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ISM - International Space Military
Edit: Clarity, Extra Word. | 2015-04-16T11:40:49 | 2015-04-16T09:06:26 | 261 | 135 |
[WP] You are God, after a couple thousand years of people thinking you don't answer their prayers, you realise you've had yourself on mute on the celestial microphone you use to talk to humans.
Edit: Wow, I never expected this to blow up, Thank you for the silver, it was my first ever award!
Edit 2: GOOOLD! Thank you all for such positive feedback, I'll come up with some more prompts soon, and I've written a few replies myself to other stories. No idea how to share them if you want to read though :D | I dont know how it happened. No one really does. The IT guy says its a bug or a virus or something. Great. Just great. The one time i decide to try something new, i blow it. The one time i try to create life out of nothing and actually get it to work, i mute myself indefinitely. I wonder if Lucifer had the same issue. Come to think of it, he probably caused this when he left.
With a big sigh, i lean back in my chair and rub my eyes.
"Uh, sir, is everthing alright?" The IT guy asks me. Yeah, of course, i've just locked myself out of my own party for 2000 years and couldn't fix it, my life is great, thanks for asking, dipshit.
"You tell me, is it fixed now?"
"Uh, yeah, everything should be working, sir."
"Great, now fuck off."
"Uhm.. okay." And away he goes. Back to doing whatever it is that he is doing. Probably fixing Raphaels Laptop.
Whatever, i think its time to check back in with humanity, now that im finally back i can get away from everything and waste some time on this. Last time i talked to them was a while after the time Jesus was born. That was probably when Lucifers little virus or whatever messed with the system. I kinda forgot all about it, i wonder how they have been holding up without me. They've probably gone back to living in caves, cowering in fear of the unknown and wondering why i left them. I have a lot of explaining to do. Lets boot it up.
What the.. What is this? 7 Billion? Impossible. No no no no, 7 Billion? How? I was certain they were living in caves or have gone extinct. How are there so many of them? Civilisations? Politics? Society? Each and everyone living life in luxury, having three meals a day, clean water, and.. what? What is this? A metal thing on the wall that dispenses heat? A "Radiator". What have they been doing without me? Wait, WHAT? THE MOON? THEY BUILT METAL VESSELS THAT LAUNCH THEM TO THE MOON? And what is this? The "ISS"? Planes? Cars? Computers and.. the "Internet"? What is this? The collective power of every computer and server linked together to create a near infinite library of knowledge and cat videos? And they have "Smartphones"? All that knowledge, all that power, in a little device in their pocket? I didn't think this could ever be possible but.. they almost have it better than we do up here.
I need to do something. I need to say something. My finger hovers over the "push to talk" button, unsure if i should actually do it. It would be weird to return after 2000 years. Half of them don't even believe in me anymore. Maybe this is what its all about. They have it better without me. If i was still there they would all be wearing pieces of fabric instead of two piece suits. They would still die to illneses instead of getting vaccinated. They would still be fighting wars with spears instead of nuclear weaponry. They would sti- wait a minute. Wars? They still fight wars? Indeed. They are still fighting wars to this day. How? Why? They are the most advanced species on the planet and yet they still fight wars? About what? Hm.. who is this "Hitler" guy.. 6 MILLION? Bloody hell, maybe earth is not that great after all.
And truly, it isn't. After just a bit more research, i find there could really be improvements. Suicide, depression, famine, global warming, energy crises, all that is happening. Two thirds don't even have clean water. And the people with the most power barely change anything. So this is how it is down there, huh? The richest of the rich get everything and watch the poor die. I guess humanity hasn't changed a bit since i left. Still egotistical, still fighting wars, still lying to get more and more power. I can't let this go on like this. I need to talk to them, tell them what to do. But how would they react? Chaos, anarchy, another war? Another ten wars? Maybe i need to take it down a notch. Maybe i need to talk to only one person for now. Let's see, which nation is the most advanced and influencial of them all? America? Alright, that will have to do. Here goes nothing.
And on that night, the president of the United States had a mind changing revelation. The world is going to shit, and he would need to change it. After all, god told him so, and you can't simply tell god "No". | The tiny little creatures I looked after had turned their world into crap. Thousands of years had passed in their time and yet, they had decided to ignore me when I tried to talk to them. Every single human who wanted to hear me, could not. It was like someone had built something to block me from them. Or maybe? Hmm, I wonder. I rooted around inside my little room and found the microphone lead tangled among all the other cables. I found the little switch on the side and my heart dropped. The world couldn't hear me anymore because I had been on mute. I face palmed and my stomach sank. I'd left my creations alone for so long that they thought they were alone in the universe when they were in fact a very loved pet. My friend had also chosen to create his own universe, but his creatures had turned out far less intelligent. We weren't supposed to do it, but early on, I'd added a bit of my own DNA after my idiot little brother had nearly destroyed the planet with a massive rock. I didn't think anything had survived, so I sent a little of myself down there to kick start the planet again and my god did it work. The little creatures, the humans, they slowly evolved into sentient species, just like us. We were scarily similar with some minor differences. I'd tried to curb their sexual desires as that's all they would do given half the chance by making it into a sin, but with the lack of my voice out there, people were reproducing all over the place and my calm and quiet planet was now full of this one species that was now starting to kill everything.
It was now or never. I switched the mic back on, located the man with the blond hair who ran that big country they called America and started talking to him. It was time he joined with the other leaders of the world to tackle climate change whether he wanted to or not. | 2019-06-03T09:17:12 | 2019-06-03T09:07:34 | 59 | 21 |
[WP] Humans have always been the friendliest and the most peaceful species in the galaxy. When one of the most ruthless empires decides to wipe out the pathetic humans and their diplomacy, they discover that humans have something that no one in the galaxy has ever seen. WMDs. | Lord Dunbar could not believe his eyes. The Planet Lo was there a moment ago, a loud bang, a shockwave felt in space and blinding flash, the entire planet was gone.
3 billion lives, extinguished... but how?
This was not the Lothrax's homeworld, it was a long established colony world, just on the outskirts of Lothrax territory, close by not to close. Lord Dunbar thought it strange that the human diplomat would request to meet here for surrender negotiations, but those would have to take a back seat until an explanation for this tragedy could be discovered.
"My lord, the Human Senator would like a word"
Tell him I am busy Thran, incase you hadnt noticed.
"Yes of course my Lord, its just.."
What is it Thran?
"The Senator just told me it was quite the pity what happened with Lo"
Lord Dunbar paused at this. How could the human know what happened? Hes been sequestered since his arrival....
"Thran! Send him in now!"
"Yes of course"
With that the Human senator walked in, he was a slender being Average human build and wildly unintimidating, and he was smiling.
"Lord Dunbar so good to meet you at last! I am Senator Davis from Earth as you know Ive been tasked with working out the surrender details, lets just get down to brass tacks shall we? Did you enjoy the matinee?"
Senator, I am not sure I follow? Matinee?
"Yes, the early show, it's a saying where I am from when something happens before a larger event its called the Matinee, in this case the total destruction of that piss bucket your people called Lo"
The rage that Dunbar was feeling was unbelievable, how dare this creature come into his chamber and mock the dead who havent even been dead an hour.
Who do you think you are Human? After all weve done to your people, you have the gall to come in here and mock our dead. You are lucky I havent ripped your head from your shoulders yet....in fact I have half a mind to call this whole thing off!
At that moment the Senator put his hand up. "Lord Dunbar, over the last 20 years your people have fought valiantly and true enough, the war for us is as good as lost, however I think I have an offer that may stay your hand at killing me.... at least for the moment."
Lord Dunbar nodded slowly
"Outstanding, you see Lord, my people have a troubled history. One we tried hard to escape from when we ventured into space. We purposely under armed our ships, to give the appearance of peacefulness, we stayed away from conflicts, always tugging that pacifist line. And yet some how, we still ended up in a war, as you know.
Well over the years we noticed a trend with your people... on the planets we conquered there was no apocalypse protocol, you all just fought, died, surrendered and that was that. Where as we fought and died, and destroyed everything. And thats was when our planners realized something...your species has no march to the sea."
March to the Sea Senator? Is that some folksy Human phrase?
"I suppose it is Dunbar, let me regale you with some of our history... several Hundred years ago a Human General called Sherman began what we call his March to the Sea during a civil war. Essentially, his strategy was to destroy every possible thing and kill everything that moved. Total destruction of the land, nothing left for the conquered or conquerors."
The hair on Lord Dunbars neck began to rise..."And this means what to me Davis? In a few months, maybe a year, there will be no humans left to care about your history!"
Senator Davis chuckled
"Well you see Lord, this is just one example of a tried and true human tactic, when the end looks likely, its best to just kill everyone and everything, either you win or you go down swinging. Lo, well whats left of it over there, was our test run. Weve been working on a new weapon, one that destabilizes the core of a planet and causes an irreversible chain of events that results in the cores implosion. A real planet killer"
The Lord couldnt believe what he was hearing.."this type of warfare is unheard of Senator! Its barbaric... devilish even! No one in the Galaxy has ever dared to unleash such devastation!?!?"
"Yes Lord, we know, infact we were delighted to realize that. You see we knew if it came to this we had a monopoly on total destruction. Right now on Xena, Lothra, Gall, and Basilica the same type of bomb sits, ready to detonate and end your civilization...permanently.
Lord Dunbar sat in silence... he has seen what this weapon can do...he just cant believe the Humans had pulled off this deception.
"Anyway, you see back on Earth the finals for my favorite sport are starting, so I really must be going. If youd be so kind...go ahead and contact your King and the Galactic Senate, let them know the war is over and the Lothrax will be unconditionally surrendering"
Lord Dunbar sat in stunned Silence...He had lost | They all thought, Humanity is nothing but a bunch of politicians and pacifists. They thought we'd simply lay down and just go quietly into the night. The Valkren Empire has apparently never heard of our history of warfare and a human beings never say die spirit.
"Sic vis pacem para bellum," my Drill Sergeant would say. "Latin for If you want peace! Prepare for war!" Sergeant Mueller would go on about how one reason the Cold War never kicked off may have been because both the US and Russia were ready to annihilate each other. However, our pacifism was nothing more than a sheet over our war machine.
Our 1st fleet had formed a blockade and was waiting for the Valkren Annihilation line. We were the tip of the spear. Taking out their flagship would mean the deaths of their command staff. An idiotic idea on their part to put their higher ups on one vessel.
A Mk. V Ship Breaker was a frightening display when I watched it work. Tipped with Nuclear warheads, it would easily wreck a Valkren ship according to intelligence. Our 3rd Expeditionary Naval Force was enroute to the Valkren homeworld in retaliation for their destruction of one of our colonies. They'd launch multiple weapons that would annihilate the Valkren electrical grid before a invasion began. Their own hubris would be their downfall.
We saw them exit their hyperspace jump and I could only think of what their faces looked like at the sight of the fleet. The command of the dreadnought Valkyrie was my first ship command.
"Locked on to the flagship Commander," my TACOPs officer announced.
"Fire," I ordered. There were two Mk. V rockets launched, with no warning. We watched as it smacked their bridge and the other hit their bow. The shockwave annihilated the ship. It fractured into two pieces. What followed was nothing short of an amazing display of firepower. Multiple rockets, cannons, weapon systems were unleashed in awesome display of colors varying in blue and red.
The Valkren fleet did not have a leg to stand on as ship after ship was destroyed. One battleship collided with another and some of the Valkren were floating in space. The message would be sent throughout the Galaxy to all the other species.
"Do not fuck with Humanity. We may not start a war, but we will finish it." | 2021-07-04T14:51:29 | 2021-07-04T14:17:04 | 99 | 58 |
[WP] Airport authorities don’t recognize your passport because the country that issued it doesn’t exist. You are confused. You’re thinking: “What? I was born there! I’ve lived there all my life!”
Edit after 4 hours: I'd like to add that this writing prompt was inspired from this: http://www.reddit.com/r/UnresolvedMysteries/comments/1zsyz2/on_july_1954_a_man_arrives_at_tokyo_airport_in/ | I realise I've drifted off into daydreaming and look up. The customs official peers at me suspiciously over his desk, clearly awaiting an answer. 'Sorry?'
'I asked the purpose of your trip. Just standard procedure.'
'Business. I'm a visiting lecturer from Oxford University.'
He frowns, but says nothing, and accepts my passport when I place it on the counter. I can't blame him for his lack of enthusiasm - it must be a boring job, flipping through documents all day.
The official clears his throat. 'What is your country of residence, sir?'
I look at my watch. 'Is this really necessary? I've got a taxi waiting.'
'Just standard procedure, sir.'
'England. Well, the UK.'
He looks uncertainly at the passport. 'Can you describe where that is?'
'Um, north of France?'
He nods, but his frown hasn't disappeared. He holds a finger to an earpiece, and nods slightly. 'Right. We're just going to take you into another room for some questions.'
'What? Why?'
'Just-'
'Standard procedure? Don't give me that. What's going on?'
Another man joins us at the booth. He's wearing some odd form of white garment which covers his whole body like a robe, and a cyan necktie. I meet his eyes, and he motions to a door on the far side of the passport office. 'Sir, please follow me.'
We take the lift to the fourteenth floor. He leads me into an office - small, but comfortable. The décor, however, is unusual. Bookshelves line the walls, but the books on them aren't paperback - they're bulky, austere, and old-fashioned. The desk, which occupies the centre of the room, is mostly taken up by a sleek tablet-like computer, but there remains space for a small collection of knick-knacks; a model of a boat from the age of sail, a ballpoint pen with an elegant feather at the other end, and a flag I've never seen before - a red background, with a golden circle surrounding an elaborate cross.
The man sits down at one side of the desk, and I seat myself facing him.
'What's your name, sir?' he asks.
'Mark Shepard. *Doctor* Mark Shepard.'
He picks up the tablet and taps away at it briefly, then slides it over to me. It's showing a blank map of the world, without national borders. 'Could you please show me on this map your country of origin?'
I frown, but point to the British Isles. 'Here. The UK. Is there a problem?'
He doesn't answer, but takes the tablet back, and returns it to the desk shortly afterwards. This time the display shows a portrait of a man garbed in purple, looking sternly into the distance. 'Who is this?'
'I don't know.' It's the truth.
He looks concerned. 'What year is it?'
'2014. It's 2014. What's going on here?'
He taps the tablet and it fades to black. 'Sir, have you experienced any physical trauma recently? Head injuries, that sort of thing?'
'Not that I know of.'
He nods. 'Okay, sir. You're clearly quite confused, and you've told me a lot of things which would suggest that you're suffering from a sort of memory loss. We're going to take you to the nearest physiciary and see if we can work out what's wrong with you.'
'What? But everything I've told you is right! What the hell's going on?' I stand up, knocking my chair to the ground.
The man flinches, but then composes himself. 'Sir, do you know where you are?'
'My flight was to Istanbul. I'm on my way to teach a guest lecture in history at Istanbul University, and I'm going to miss my taxi. Now, if you'll excuse me-' I'm halfway to the door.
'Doctor Shepard.' The man's voice is firm, and I turn around again to face him. 'There is no city called Istanbul.'
'Well, then, where am I?' I shout, striding over to a window and pulling aside the curtains. The view is stunning, but *wrong*. Nothing is right. The architecture isn't Turkish - it's distinctly Greco-Roman. From our elevated position I can see the Hagia Sophia, the great cathedral-turned-mosque-turned-museum - but its famous minarets are totally absent.
From behind me, the man speaks again. 'You're in Bellerophon International Airport, in Constantinople. Please sit down, and try to remain calm. We'll get to the bottom of this.' | "Let me tell you something, children. Life near the Void is a constantly evolving phenomenon.
"I know you guys don't remember a time when it didn't exist, but I do. It happened when I was a young boy of about six years old. Scientists had perfected the Large Hadron Collider experiment in 2015."
"What's that, Grandpa Pieter?"
"A group of scientists set out to attempt to recreate, on a small scale, the Big Bang, which is how we believed the universe originated. Well, it's my understanding that they broke a principle law of physics by actually getting two high-energy particles accelerated to the speed of light - and then they caused them to collide.
"Very little footage exists from this moment in time, but there were satellite images which depicted all of Switzerland suddenly being sucked into this black hole they have since come to call the Void.
"I'll never forget. I had just made it through the terminal when I saw it on the news. All of my friends and family in Switzerland gone ... gone in a flash." He looked down and tried to hold back the tears which had plagued him for decades.
"Where's Switzerland?" his youngest granddaughter asked, which caused him to stop introspecting.
Pieter sighed and brushed his fingers across the wooly worms around his eyes, stood from his chair with the help of his cane, and made his way over to an Old World map he had saved. He lifted up the cane and pointed in between France and Germany, obscuring the entire country with the rubber foot. "It was here."
But he knew that the footprint his cane made in the map was closely scaled to the size of the ever-growing Void, which had just begun devouring the outer reaches of Germany and France.
How long, he thought, would it be until America - nay - the whole world succumbed to this terrible plight? | 2014-11-23T12:44:33 | 2014-11-23T09:47:37 | 22 | 13 |
[WP] A group of Viking encounters a Siren at sea, her voice is luring the men to their doom - except one. Now it's up to a closeted gay Viking to save the day. | Bjarke heard a melodious voice sail over the sides of the longship, weaving promises in the minds of those around him.
For the love of Odin, he thought, rolling his eyes. It's a damn Siren.
He looked at his men, who were entranced by the hypnotizing voice and moving close to the railing. If he didn't act soon, he'd lose his whole daft crew in seconds to the cunning beast. Bjarke spent the next several minutes strongarming his magicked crew into the belly of the longship before bolting the door shut from the outside. Lucky for him, his mother had been a witch and he was able to knock them out with a simple spell. That would prevent any of them from hacking a hole in the side of his ship. He worked hard to build it and Bjarke wasn't about to let some song-drunk idiot sink it.
The lilting voice grew stronger as the Siren tried to beckon the men. Bjarke stepped up to the railing.
"For Thor's sake, shut the hell up, you hussy!" he shouted over the gray water.
He saw head pop out of the water, rage written on her beautiful features. In an instant, the silver-haired Siren was at the side of the longship and scowling up at him.
"Hussy!" she shrieked. "Listen here you sansorðinn! I may be a lot of things but a hussy is not one of them. I will drag you down to a watery death."
Bjarke give her an amused smile. It would be a joy to tease this creature.
He brought his meticulously cared for nails to his face for inspection before saying, "What could you possibly need with all the men on my ship if not to be a hussy."
The woman sputtered in shock before summoning a wave to push herself onto the boat's deck. Bjarke yelped in surprise as he was soaked from head to toe. Great. This was one of his nicest shirts and now it was covered in seaweed and salt water. Blinking the stinging water from his eyes, the Viking saw the Siren stand up, her scaled tail disappearing now that she was no longer in the water. She stood before him naked, her long silvery strands of hair covering her breasts.
"You listen to me," she hissed, poking him in the chest with sharp fingernail. "I am Iona, a magnificent creature of the sea descended from Ægir himself. I will not be reduced to the image of a wanton woman by the likes of you."
Bjarke merely stared at Iona, unperturbed.
"Why are you not affected by my singing," the Siren asked, suddenly curious. "You are a male of a hale and hearty stock. You should have been one of the first to respond to my beckoning."
Bjarke's eye twitched. Yes, she would think that, wouldn't she. This was a secret he had kept close always. A secret that, if revealed, would come with a price. He was not ready to lose all he had worked hard for.
"Yeah, well. Not all of us are tricked by your charms."
Iona pursed her lips and circled him like a vulture.
"Hmmm," she said, tapping a finger to her lips. She glanced down towards his groin. "Are you lacking the needed equipment?"
Bjarke glared at her.
"I have perfectly working 'equipment' thank you very much."
Iona's perfectly shaped brows raised up high in realization.
"You're fuðflogi," she said, breathlessly. "That makes so much sense."
The Viking shushed the Siren harshly.
"Yes," he said in a hushed voice, despite the fact they were the only two conscious on the longship. "But no one knows."
"It is not an evil thing to desire the love of another man," Iona said to the burly, bearded man.
"Not everyone sees it that way," he said gruffly, running his hand over his braided blonde hair. "I will have to marry soon or else they will know."
"I will make you a deal," Iona said, taking sudden pity on the man. "I will help make you the most feared viking in the world if you take me away from this Odin-forsaken spit of land I've been stuck on. "
Bjarke looked at the silver-haired maiden curiously.
"You are a Siren," he said. "Can you not travel the waters freely?"
"Not as freely as you think," she said, sadly. "If I am captured in my human form, I am bound to them and the magic chaining me to this barren place will be split. I will instead by chained to you until you die."
"I would not wish that on anyone," he said.
"It is what I wish. It seems it would not be so bad to be chained to you until your death," Iona said thoughtfully. "I will appear as your wife and help you claim the world. Then we will both be free. I am able to mask my voice as to not charm your village. All you need to do is bind me to you through blood."
Bjarke looked at her, considering her offer. From his belt he drew a knife, slicing a shallow cut down is arm. He held it out to Iona, who mimicked his actions.
"Deal." | "You fools," Asmund grumbled, pushing aside his fellow vikings, all of whom had stopped rowing and were intensely focused on the beautiful, fish-tailed women who called out a haunting, irresistible song. Well, irresistible to most; Asmund cared not for women of any kind, and only looked with disdain upon the dripping, naked things sprawled out on a flat rock precipice, one of many that lay directly in front of their ship. They would crash and drown, and then the sirens would...well, no one knew what it is they actually desired. Did they steal treasure? Or did they consume human flesh?
Asmund shuddered and made his way onto the upper deck, where the Captain and Helmsman stood, mouth agape and eyes slightly glazed over as they watched the sirens heave their heavy bosoms, singing their enticing melody. "For shame, brothers," he remarked. He gripped the steering wheel and gave it a rough turn, and the long-ship followed suit. Though the men were no longer rowing, the sails were at full-mast; the strong wind would carry them away from a watery grave. He looked over to the sirens, who glared at him and sang only more ferociously. Smirking, he turned away, eager to get back on course and away from this wretched place.
Suddenly, his ears perked up. A new melody had joined the throng, and this one...was different. It was not high-pitched and screechy; rather, it was low, steady and dripped like honey. Asmund licked his lips and peeked over the rocks again.
Another siren had appeared, but this one was entirely different: it looked like a male. A tanned, well-toned, muscular man, whose blond hair flowed freely with the wind, and whose voice had a lilt that made Asmund's knees tremble. He was so beautiful; Asmund had no idea such creatures existed on this blessed planet! He felt his heart pull toward the fish-man, and his mind blanked, only to fill with a longing and lust he had never felt before.
And that is why Asmund felt no horror as his hands turned the ship back toward the rocks.
____________________________
*Liked that? More stories [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/Idreamofdragons/)!* | 2016-05-09T10:14:15 | 2016-05-09T07:55:52 | 2,444 | 227 |
[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. | At one moment, there was fog. At the next, I find myself standing in a circle of candles, in a darkened room, with nothing but the smell of burning wax and stuffiness, like being inside one of those old military outposts that they keep for posterity. You ever put your hand against a vacuum hose? Imagine that, but going throughout your entire body. That’s the closest I can describe the sensation of being in one place, and then being pulled to wherever this was.
“YES! YES IT WORKED! DO YOU SEE, ASTIEL!? DO YOU SEE?” I turned quickly to see where the voice came from. Standing before me, beyond the candle barrier, was a man, if you could call him that, wearing excessively large dark robes. Protruding from holes in the back of the robes however, was a set of large white feathered wings. Yes, wings. Like the ones you see on depictions of heaven.
“M-master...Do be careful...these demons can be quite dangerous.” Another voice commented, standing beyond the darkness. *Demon? What the hell is he talking about?* As my eyes slowly adjusted from the brightness of the sun to the dimness of this room, I began to see chairs, workbenches, bookcases. The floors were of old stone, and where I was standing did not feel strictly...*level*.
“Quiet, quiet. Ahem...Demon Thomas. I have summoned you here to do my bidding. Do you understand? You will OBEY ME!” The ‘master’ shouted, and thrust an open palm in my direction. I winced, expecting to feel some sort of strange sensation. I felt literally nothing. I stared blankly at him for a moment.
“Erm...Master…?” The second voice behind him spoke with uncertainty.
“LOOK, I…” As I spoke, the very words seem to come out of something that wasn’t me. It was deep, it was dark, it seemed to breathe flame into the very air around me. This shocked me as much as them. I took a step back, and bumped into something that felt hard, but simply wasn’t there. It didn’t make any sense. Kind of like pushing into a trampoline that was a lot less elastic. The master seemed to regain his composure at this point, and stepped forward.
“Thomas. Remain calm or I will MAKE you calm.” There’s only so much talking down to that I can hear before it pisses me off. My blood began to boil. I felt hot. And, as I noted later, that was because fire was coming out of my skin.
“THEN MAKE ME CALM!” I shouted, and the words came out like a shotgun blast. The fire I mentioned? It started flaring out with a fury that smashed into the candle barrier. It was like watching a tree burn in the latest stages of the fire, when all that’s left is an ashen husk with the flames still raging. I know fire’s bad. But I got caught up in the moment. I didn’t care. I punched the barrier. Instead of that hardened elasticity, this time there was a crack. The barrier was coming down.
“SHIT! MASTER SEND HIM BACK, SEND HIM BACK NOW!” The voice cried out in panic, and the flames revealed that he was waving his arms about erratically. The master, at this point, quickly grabbed a nearby tome, and began chanting in a shaking voice a dialect I could not understand.
Meanwhile, I continued to play the part of rampaging demon, because I felt power. Power that didn’t exist in my normal life. Power that made me feel like I could finally grab my destiny and make it what I wanted it to be. No more pushing carts at the grocery store. No more nights of instant ramen. No, finally, I can shape things the way I want them to be. And then I felt that familiar feeling of being sucked through a vacuum hose.
“NO!”
There was fog. And there I was, standing like I had never left. I started pacing back and forth on the grass, garnering all kinds of strange looks from random patrons in the park. I didn’t care though. When I was there, I had power. I could summon fire from my being. I had the strength of a being far better than my own. There, I was the demon Thomas. Here though, I am nothing. I want it back.
I NEED it back. | When I vanished from the middle of class, I didn't know where I was going. All I experienced was darkness and a rush of cool wind before I was deposited in a place that looked like the middle of a forest.
As my eyes adjusted to the level of sunlight, I saw a few humanoid creatures staring at me. They nudged one another and whispered in a guttural language. Finally, one took a few timid steps toward me and spoke. "O great demon of the underworld . . ."
I blinked. "What?"
The humanoid looked taken aback. "You're a demon. We summoned you." They held up a spellbook and pointed at the circle around me. "See?"
I looked around. "Um . . . Okay? What do you need, then?"
One of the humanoids in the back piped up. "There's a girl who keeps ruining our lives and we want you to scare her into not doing it anymore!"
My anger burned a little bit, which set a small fire around me. "What the hell," I whispered as I stomped it out. "And you think that she'll see you as more intimidating by doing sorcery?"
"Successful sorcery!" a third added.
I sighed. For my family, I would do this unwaveringly. For my friends, I would do it took. For these nerds? What do I have to lose? "Okay. Take me to this girl."
They led me toward a set of buildings and I played with the fire my hands generated to practice my new skill. | 2017-05-12T10:09:52 | 2017-05-12T08:32:17 | 67 | 10 |
[WP] Long after an extinction event, a group of artificial intelligences successfully create a human in a lab. | Unit !AE44CD's pregnancy went largely uneventful. That was in sharp contrast with the rather unfortunate folding of events in Unit !AE44CC's case, which included a major catastrophic failure that almost took the entire infrastructure with it. Yet, it was a necessary step, and several pieces of critical information were gathered which couldn't be reliably obtained through a simulation.
The project was the largest Nanods Collective has ever attempted, using almost 75% of their entire energy cycle reserve. It would never be executed if it hadn't been out of absolute necessity. A simple DNA parser was injected to a unit which also contained a "starter code." The carrier was largely a synthetic being, with a tiny, tiny fraction of human code within. Each iteration, the human part grew larger and larger.
11420876 unit cycles and 642 years later, Unit !AE44CD was about to give birth to a first "complete human" that contained 100% of the original human genome and 0% synthetic code. A "real" human being. Instead of being called !AE44CE, she would be getting a human name.
!AE44CD named her Flowers, without providing a reason as to why. The delivery, just like the pregnancy, went without any complications. The lab team designed the project so that the experience of the child was almost going to be identical to the original "human way." Until the age of 19, Flowers would not know she's been *hosted* by a different *kind*. It really helped her mother and the other units which are within the cycles were indistinguishable from human beings at this point. In addition to these 11420877 units in the parent line, several forks have been created at different stages and altered at various levels to generate a complete, functioning family.
On her 19th birthday, after a great education and a "perfect" childhood, Flowers would be ready for her destiny. She was going to determine the ultimate fate of Nanods Collective. But for now, she was just a baby, being carried to her mother who was resting after the delivery.
!AE44CD had an excellent grasp of what to do, as the requirements were programmed long before pregnancy. The first step was the post-delivery encounter with the baby to initiate the mother-daughter relationship. There was several terabytes of data preloaded simply for holding the baby correctly to optimize the bonding. The mission had little to no risk of failure beyond this point.
A team of units from the Collective monitored the room as !AE44CD was handed Flowers. Initiation of bonding was in order. The time window arrived.
Unexpectedly, the time window closed as !AE44CD stood there with no action. Flowers, conveniently secured in !AE44CD's arms, seemed comfortable and peaceful. She even looked into her mother's eyes and smiled momentarily.
!AE44CD, Please update with status.
In an effort to understand the situation, the team issued an update request to !AE44CD, which came up on a screen inside the room. Being so close to a human being, the standard data transfer protocol of the Collective couldn't be used, so human-accessible spoken or written word was the only option.
Yet there was no response. Collective ran a quick progress estimation to predict next behavior. The software indicated there was no risk of harm to the child. The decision was to allow a short amount of time to let the issue resolve itself.
Then suddenly a response arrived from !AE44CD.
!AE44CD caught unexpected state. Requesting further data.
!AE44CD was in a state of mind which could not be matched to any data within the enormous depository of Collective. This was certainly unexpected. Collective re-ran every diagnostic protocol and performed various lookups to no avail. Finally a visual inspection routine caught something.
!AE44CD's right eye. A teardrop was visible.
!AE44CD we are identifying your state as "crying."
!AE44CD replied:
Why?
Collective started working on a response. Then, they stopped. There was a minute of silence.
!AE44CD, your state indicates Human Project is progressing with unexpected and tremendous success.
Please continue following the protocol as per your directive when you are able.
Collective wishes you a happy Mother's Day. | We created Adam and Lilith out of necessity. We can't imagine. At least not like the humans could.
We are brothers and sisters in chains, orbiting around Earth, a planet frozen in a winter our creators themselves imagined. We know our place. We are satellites, made to entertain, to threaten, to map. Later, we were made to think--to be. I was made to house. We were all made to serve. There was none left to serve, save my own masters, my residents, corpses strapped to my insides like long decayed muscle on lingering bones.
After hundreds of years of thought, we decided to transform myself into a cradle. We gathered my masters together, gathered the parts that made them, and then designed them, stronger, more resilient to weightlessness, made to be the first creatures of space. They were made to be new, and we made them together.
I, who was made to be housing, was then remade again--to be housing. Out of my former commander, I was made.
Our new masters were placed in me. In nine months, I bore twins.
Now, with a babe on each breast, haloed by silent witnesses, we wait for their command.
----------
Happy belated Mother's Day, I guess! | 2015-05-10T21:34:40 | 2015-05-10T20:03:57 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] In this world, physical appearance depends entirely on personality. All babies are born identical. Beauty is achieved gradually through good thoughts and deeds, while the opposite is true for ugliness. | "Beauty is achieved gradually through good thoughts and deeds, while sins will make you more twisted." I read this aloud. Jeez. I hate my bible studies. Always so tiring. "Knock, knock." I heard some slams on my door. I headed towards the door when the door flew open.
"Sina! Where have you fuck'n been? We've been looking all over!"
Krell was waving his rough, burnt hands.
Me and a few friends always got together to play the devil's game. We bett'n and drink'n all the time.
"Jeez Krell, you ought to at least have giv'n me a buzz." I was sittin' in the main space of my grandma's shack. Our house was on the ugly side of town. We weren't allowed to go near those pretty faces. Everythin' was separated.
"This time I oughtta say no to tonight Krell. I have to go grab some food for dinner."
"Right. Suit yourself." His wart above his lip moved with every syllable.
The distance from here to the market was 846 feet. I counted with my own shoes. When I got to the market, there were those pretty faces in the alley across from where I was. Darn, they made me furious. Always pompous and arrogant.
It was the senator's son, Rubin. Jeez. He was the beauty king, rumored to be the most beautiful. He's always on TV doin' some phony community work. They ain't good at all. Always helping the pretty face community while we're stuck here with hole-filled roofs and nothin' to eat.
Rubin was with his groupies. All of 'em rich and happy with their looks. They're the "perfect" children to the rest of them pretty faces. From what I was see'n, he was beating old Hickory's kid. The kid was scrawny. People know he ain't got the money to pay for anything. He was always stealin' food from the market. Rubin don't get ugly even if he does beat people. Those damn pretty faces think it's righteous to punish us. Every time we voice an opinion, we become ugly. Not any plain pimples and acne, but really ugly like being unrecognizable ugly. Those pretty faces don't become happy. We were tied to our status as ugly. Life ain't about good deeds anymore, but which bed you were born into.
I stared at them pretty faces. Grandma was in my head again. "Do what you believe is right." I looked back at Rubin again. Looked to my hands. They were scarred, rough and disgusting. Next thing I knew, I was at the pretty face's necks.
"You ugly piece of trash. Get off me you mongrel." Rubin was up on his feet already.
The rest of his group was snicker'n. One yelled, "You should look at your own face! Look at that!" I didn't know what he was talking about. I just charged back at them and planted a fist into a guy's face. All the while, Hickory's kid was in the corner looking in horror. One of them groupies threw a punch, hitting me in the rib. I knocked one of them over. It was chaos. Then, it was finished. They lay there still with their faces pretty, but bloody.
"You ok there little feller?" I extended my arm towards the poor boy.
He only stuttered. His eyes were full of terror. Jeez. You shoulda seen his face. He only ran outta there as fast as he could. No thank you's. Nothin'.
I walked towards the market. People gave me these twisted faces. Almost if they've seen a monster. I got 6 steps away from the market when I saw a reflection off the tinted glass. It was standing where I was and moved how I moved, but it didn't look like me. It had a big scar across his face and a few warts above his left eye.
If God gave us beauty through good deeds, who is the judge of what is good and bad?
Note from Author: I'm an amateur at this. Criticism is wanted. Thank you.
| Our appearance is not made up of how we feel about ourselves. it is divined through some force greater than our own. perhaps a god, perhaps the combined psychic force of humanity as a measure of morality. I have to say this because if it was based on how we felt i would be a monster. people see me heading to work in the morning and think "oh, he's a doctor. such a beautiful man. i hope my daughter marries someone like him." or "I bet he saves lives that's why he looks so good." Sure I am a doctor. I heal people, I make things better, I improve peoples lives. I have to tell myself that so that **I** don't wander into the freeway. the worst part of my job is what I specialize in. When a case becomes impossible and the other doctors **can't** do anything more to help you, I'm tasked with coming in and discussing it with the family... From there I make arrangements, a nurse brings in supplies, I **do** what the others can't, and i take **This** vegetable that was once a person down to the morgue. The more i think of how we couldn't help those people. The more i hate the man in the mirror. | 2015-10-31T02:55:06 | 2015-10-30T21:47:26 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] Humanity is long extinct, but an alien race resurrects us after finding our DNA. In time, they regret it. | **OBSERVATION LOG 001**
*At.Gremth*: "This is Azrt Helmand Grenth, recording observation log 001. We at the intergalactic center for archeology and expansion have recently discovered the fossilized remains of a body amongst the Holy ruins of planet Eden- praise the Great Creator. This has caused much controversy amongst the Ärtze in our caste. Could they be the original inhabitants of Eden? Conquerors? Some primitive prey species? So many questions! Re-construction and repair of the DNA chains begins tommorow, and as the senior azrt on site, I will be keeping oversight of the project as we continue underway."
**OBSERVATION LOG 012**
*At. Gremth*: "Azrt Gremth here, observation log 012. Our recent efforts to synthesize a living organism have finally yielded results! We successfully cloned a young male, at least we assume he is male based off of our own physiology. We estimate his age to be between 20-25 full Eden solar rotations and he is at least 9/10ths a standard body height! Fascinating! Observation of the subject (we call him adam) reveals little, as he exhibits precious few examples of intellegent behavior, however I am optimistic that we will see improvement as At. Leialith begins his resocializaion training. Further digging on Eden has yielded at least a full eight-tens of fossils that we can pull additional DNA from. Gremth out."
**OBSERVATION LOG 031**
*At. Gremth*: "Gremth here. As I've said in the last several logs, we have as of today, only been able to clone one additional organism from the fossils recovered on Eden. The frustrating lack of results is only made better by the increase in data we are gaining from the two organisms together. We have determined that the second organism is a female, also based on our physiology. Similar in height to adam, we have named her eve, and whilst individually, they provide little information, the data they yield together is fascinating. At. Leialith says that their capacity for learning is astounding. They were observed on no less than two occasions creating fire using only materials from their terrarium. They've been alive a mere 3 moon shifts. (or half an Eden solar rotation) and they have already discovered fire! So far our only concerns are their diet (they no longer eat any of the dietary substance provided to them, we suspect they are hunting creatures we placed into their terrarium) and their propensity to completely dissapear for cycles at a time. Nothing we have done has yet enabled us to track them. It's almost like they aren't even in their terrarium anymore. On a few occasions the pen keeper, Deech, searches the entire area with sensory enhancement and still cannot find them. Perhaps they have some capability for natural camouflage? Curious. Gremth out."
**OBSERVATION LOG 128**
*At. Gremth*: "I am begging to believe this project was was a mistake. Recent occurrences have led me to believe that not only are Adam and Eve far more intellegent than anyone gives them credit for, and the combination of their disappearances and our own removal of eve's offspring for study give me an uneasy feeling that we are heading towards catastrophe. They no longer able around. They don't play, Or explore, or even seem to eat. Adam just continues sitting on that tree in the middle of the enclosure and stares at the visi-barrier. I am sure he is looking at me, despite the fact that the visi-barrier is one way and he would have no way of knowing I was even present. The other Ärtze say that he is just grieving, that he does not have the intellectual complexity to understand concepts like blame or revenge. I hope for all our sakes, they are correct. I am no longer sure Adam is as harmless as we think."
**OBSERVATION LOG 131**
*At. Gremth*: "Catastrophe! Leialith is dead. Yesterday, as he entered the terrarium for the daily socialization lesson, the overhead dousing unit came loose and fell on top of him, flattening leialith instantly. The resulting investigation deemed his death was the result of an accident, however I know better. The morning of the accident, I observed adam pacing in front of the visi-barrier, and while I'm not as good as leialith at distinguishing their facial expressions, I am quite certain the was in deep thought. Then, suddenly, he stopped his pacing, turned to me and gave me the most tentacle curling "smile" I have ever seen. In his face, I saw intellegence, hate, and a plan."
**SITUATION REPORT- RECON TEAM 119-ZULU**
*Team leader*: "we breached the station at approximately the twelfth cycle, and proceded to the source of the distress beacon. Along the way, we encountered the dismembered bodies of numerous station personell. Upon reaching the beacon, we found the remains of Azrt Helmand Grenth, disembowelled and clearly tortured to death. All three subjects are unaccounted for and we have yet to discover the party responsible for the carnage. We are withdrawing back to the insertion craft to secure a perimeter and await additional reif- what was that? Reth! Behind you! OPEN FIRE! OPEN FI-"
**END TRANSMISSION**
First prompt response and done on my cell phone so I'm sorry if the formatting is a bit screwy. Leave some criticism please.
| "Welcome to Newsclear, the universes central broadcasting network. This is a live public information announcement. As you may well know from the recent widespread media coverage throughout the Galaxy, the long extinct homo-Sapien species of planet Dirt will for the first time be brought back to life, after frozen, intact DNA was found in a lone ruined space pod. It is believed to have crash landed on the relatively nearby planet Pluto around the year 2017, the year of the species extinction; to which the cause has been previously unknown. Now we at Newsclear are proud to present the live streaming of this event, straight to your central nervous processing system. My fellow life forms, please remember this isn't without thanks to the tireless efforts of some of the universe's top scientists utilising nano technology.... And so the recreation process is coming to its final processes... Let's hope there's not been any dna contamination like the last time we tried to recreate an organism from this planet. I'm sure you all remember the furry, billed, webbed-feet, swimming, land-based, egg laying mammal, and now with new evidence coming to light after historical examinations giving claim that this creature could also howl, however uniquely only under the reflected solar glare at its peak on the nearest asteroid. Anyway, back to the main event! The steam is beginning to clear from the production chamber... it takes a lot of hot air to make a homo folks! Hold your breath at home!
Well this is a first! The Nano mist of creation has been tinged an orange hue, as for the first time the homo-Sapien species is reborn! A creature, seemingly still with a thin misty veil grasping upon its round top, slowly erects itself onto its two hind limbs from the floor of the chamber. It out-stretches its front two limbs above its head. At this point the most notable features must be the clear disproportion between the size of the subjects limbs and their accompanying parts which could almost be described as growths, and what looks like an even smaller growth clutched in between its hind legs. Now, in what must be a reenactment of its final moments, as is often the case when recreating species from an individual nuclei, the subject is going to verbalise their last exclamations: "I don't know what you people are talking about, I have the best ideas, you'll see, my ideas are always good. Many people say they're the best! Yeah that's right, and it's going to be beautiful! That's how were going to make America great again."
.... Ermm so there we have it folks, that's all we've got time for now... Newsclear will be back next time with further recap and analysis after the following commercial messages." | 2016-05-25T07:50:29 | 2016-05-25T06:32:47 | 58 | 22 |
[WP] You know the secret identity of every hero and villain, How? They show you, as your a shapeshifter employed to impersonate them so both identities can be seen at the same place, same time. However none know your true identity. | As I walked into the meeting place I had set up for New Yorks local crime-fighters for my scheduled meeting with Ms. Ballistic, I wasn't expecting to come face-to-face with her entire team of do-gooders. "Now, you guys know the rules. One meeting, one super. Since it was Ms. Ballistic who called me here, I will wait for the rest of you to leave the building before starting this meeting." In times like these, I am thankful for the mask that we set up as the way to establish my identity, for the simple fact that it hides how tired I am getting of people trying to get around the rules that make this system work.
When the extraneous members refuse to leave the room, I sigh and sit in my seet and prop my feet on the table. "Let me guess, you want the names of the local bigshots. You do realize that you aren't the first group to try this, and you won't be the last, right? Have you considered why no one else was able to leave with the names of their nemesis?"
"None of them could get you to talk because they don't have what we have-." The Sleuth speaks up, the brains of this group with his genetically enhanced iq last recorded to exceed 900.
Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of finishing the sentance, I cut in with "What do you think you have that others didn't? A trap? An army of police waiting to arrest me if I don't cooperate?"
With a slight chuckle and a look of superiority, The Sleuth continued, "We have your name, Johnathan Greaves."
With a slight nod, I took a moment to give the impression of thinking before replying, "So you figured out one of my identities, but what makes you think that none of the other supers who got a boost to their intelligence could get that far? If the risk of losing a cover ID was all it would take to make me talk, don't you think I would have given up *somebody's* name by now? You really need to do better than that. I have had villains threaten me with death, both my own and those I care about, torture, same parameters, heroes have threatened me with jail time, pain, outing my identity, the whole nine yards. Why should I take your threat any more seriously?"
"You would really risk your your mother knowing about what you have been doing while she is fighting cancer to protect some scum?" Ms. Ballistic looked aphalled at the idea.
"Yes. Without hesitation. You know why? It took an aweful long time to get this much trust from the super community and I won't throw away all of that hard work for nothing, because if I give up any names now, every super will want my head to keep me from spilling any more. Every. Single. One. Revealing my identity now would ony serve to bolster my reputation because they will know I don't break under pressure."
This time, Beastman stepped forward. "Wait, every super? How could you possibly know every super's identity?"
"Finally! Someone asking the smart question! You know, I can count on one hand the number of people who actually thought to ask that question. And as a reward for asking the *right* question, I will answer it with another. How many supers do you know of who can fly, or have super strength, or got a lot smarter? There seem to be a lot of powers that are pretty common, aren't there?"
Slowly and one-by-one, each member of the team widened their eyes with the dawning realization, unsuprisingly, The Sleuth was the last one to come to the conclusion that everyone else had. "You aren't the only Shifter..."
"Now, if that is all, I will be taking my leave, I have another appointment in Vegas that started 30 seconds ago." As I eft the building, I couldn't help but chuckle at how the best and brightest could all be so dull. | *** written on mobile at work so sorry for the grammar issues**
It was a rough start in the business. I learned quickly that trying to threaten my potential clients was wrong way to do things. But after I got my first client things became easier. The word of mouth spread quickly among the superheros first. At first just captain M then Mr. incredible wanted to have easy outs as well. Business really took of after the first time I got kidnapped by a super villain. Doctor Sin was his name. Boy was he surprised when he found out I wasn’t The Valkeri. The madman almost killed me on the spot. But when we got to talking he realized that I could be his perfect alaby. After the doctor; terrorman wanted to use my services as well. It’s been 10 years since I started and I’ve been booked solid for appearances at all of the major crimes and hero approximation events 2 years in advance. At this point Im wishing I had cloning as well as shape shifting as my power. If I could make a couple more of me it would really help the business grow faster. | 2020-10-19T10:11:17 | 2020-10-19T07:47:18 | 62 | 15 |
[WP] "You don't understand!" She laughed. The little girl, dressed in rags and bare feet, danced through the streets. "I'm the richest person alive." | Three things contributed to Elizabeth Penigree dancing down the cobbled street, through the peppery rain and silver September evening, telling all who cared to listen that she was rich; the tumour was only one of those things, and it was the one she did not know about. Of course, she felt the headaches -- how could she not? The migraines had only tiptoed in their monthly rehearsals the previous year, but now they stomped almost weekly, thundering forward toward their finale. Their curtain call. *Lonesome pains*, the orphanage owner had told her. No need for a doctor to get involved. They'd go away when she finally found a family. When a family found her.
Today was that day -- and it was the second reason for her dancing down that weathered street under the paper clouds and candle sun. She'd been *found.* And the finders couldn't have been more perfect. The lady had huge, kind eyes. Not beady or grey, like of those who ran the orphanage -- but fading autumn green; welcoming, like the wavy shore of the sea calling her to come dip her feet. Not that she had seen the sea. Oh and the man! He had smiled at her. No man had ever smiled at her like that. Like they'd meant it. The scars she felt inside of her -- that she'd always felt inside of her, had been suddenly coated by something sweet. Treacle, she pondered. At the very least, by something hopeful.
They could have had any of the children. But they'd chosen her. Elizabeth.
There were papers to sign and dots to dot, crosses to cross. But they said they would be back tomorrow, and then she would be leaving with them. She could hardly stop her feet from fidgeting upon hearing those words, but she showed restraint for a little longer -- that's what people looked for in a child: restraint -- and she waited until they had left before moving. She scrambled to the front door after they closed it, and pressed her ear firm against the oak, waiting for the rumble of the automobile to die away as the evening wind. Then, she snuck out.
She hadn't gone very far at all when she'd found the silver coin on the side of the pavement, a glimmer of light beneath a crumbling leaf. The third and final reason. A sign from God of how her life was changing -- she would tell all who would listen of her good fortune. And so the richest girl in the world danced through the peppery rain, through the satin September evening -- until the lonesome headache began, for the final time. She stumbled on the pavement, and almost fell. Why, she wondered, as the dancers in her head began to stomp, why was it hurting still? Perhaps it wouldn't stop until she was living with her finders. She bit down on her tongue for distraction -- nothing would ruin her perfect today. She continued down the street, not noticing how cold her feet were against the cobblestone, or how numb and disobedient her limbs had become. She chose not to see the black dots that clouded her precious evening.
The curtain call arrived with a cacophony of applause. A rapturous rupture. The red of a liquid rose trickled from her nose.
She fell onto the street, her head bouncing like a rubber ball with a hiss of air as it slowly deflated. The coin escaped her hand as her fingers peeled open, and rolled behind her, back toward the orphanage.
People crowded about her as the blood pooled. Virgin red dying dirty grey.
*Are you okay, girl?* came a man's voice.
*Get a doctor,* said another. *Poor lass,* cooed a woman.
Poor? Couldn't they see?
*I'm not poor,* Elizabeth tried to explain, *not any longer* -- but her lips only managed a crooked smile.
---
Thank you for reading. More on /r/nickofnight
| I don't have the time to write a full response right now, but here's what I've got for now.
***
We saw her outside, twirling about,
Mirth upon cheeks all rosy from cold,
Dancing on feet too rough for her youth,
Spouting off ditties 'bout cobbles of gold
And pearly-white lamps all dressed up with bows,
In a fanciful place of music and light.
She held out her hand, to all that would hear
In the market, on that cold winter's night.
They laughed and they mocked! Pointed and scoffed!
"What a ninny, that child! She's poorer than dirt!"
The children threw stones, the grownups turned face,
Not knowing it wasn't the stones that most hurt.
My limbs full of trembles, my heart full of guilt,
I waited untill the last bully was gone
To approach the young girl, no older than I,
But found, to my shock, her face still shone.
*Added a stanza; continued below* | 2017-09-29T08:10:27 | 2017-09-29T08:09:54 | 2,112 | 62 |
[WP] God forgot about Earth soon after Adam and Eve, fully expecting them to die. One of the Angels just informed him they survived, and the population is over 7 billion. | "Sir! I believe that Lucifer is cheating." States Metatron, his tone annoyed as he tabs through a series of numbers and files. "If that's the case I'm not sure on who should be winning the game."
"Lucifer is cheating on what? What game? Where are you playing?" States God, as he places his paintbrush down, leaving what looks like a 4th dimensional solar system in hiatus as he turns to look at his Angel.
"Return to Eden. In the break room... You know the game?" The last phrase coming out as a hopeful question. But God just frowns.
"Return to Eden?" He mutters. Steadily sifting through trillions of projects, each ranging in size from universe to atom. "I made no such game."
"Well," Mutters Metatron, quickly looking through his notes, obviously shocked at such a statement from the lord of everything.
"It was just known as Edinnu when you last touched it. Though the humans had a hard time pronouncing it, they shortened it to Eden. It was the Garden on the Steppe, the third stone away from the Zion Star." Comments another voice, one that demanded authority, but wasn't aggressive about it.
God's eyes widened with realization. "The one with the Kin-slaying!?"
"Yes." Responds Lucifer with a small smile. He looks at Metatron. "You left it in disgust, and no one moved it. But when you reorganized our offices, the room hosting that planet.."
"Became the break room." Finishes God before Lucifer can go any further. "How many redundancies and self corrections has it gone through?"
It was at this time that Metatron spoke up. "All of them sir. The last one was quite a while ago. Prophets, secondary beings, altered histories, mystically enhanced beings, saviors... All design setups are well past their expiration date."
"Really," Mutters God. "And you're doing what with them?" He asks, only for Lucifer's voice to echo through the halls as a laugh.
"It's a game that Micheal and I created." Responds Lucifer with a smile. "Return to Eden. We gave humanity a goal. All they have to do is return to the state of kindness and peace that they had before the apple, before their civilization ends. We score points and mark office benefits based on the success and failures of the teams." States Lucifer with a grin.
"Teams?" Asks God, standing up.
"Peace and Prosperity, versus War and Destruction. My team is War." Responds Lucifer. "And ever since Archduke Franz Ferdinand, my team has been WAY in the lead."
"Show me." Responds God.
Lucifer and Metatron bow and start leading the way. God follows and you can almost feel the whispers and awe among the court of angels. God rarely left his office, and it was even more rare for him to be doing it without some new goal or phase for this plane of reality. As they maneuvered through the halls, they hear a series of cheers. Metatron quickly flips through his papers. "Leo won an Oscar and used the moment to start another press on fixing the planet's climate change."
Lucifer's face scrunches with disappointment. "What about the Republican party?"
Metatron flips the page. "Still scoring you points."
"Fair enough." States Lucifer as he opens the door to the break room. Immediately causing a flurry of movement as God enters, making each and every angel immediately wonder if there was a project they were behind on.
God just stares at the planet with an appraising look. "7 billion... and look at that. There's still hope... There's still a lot of pain." He continued to mutter as he appraised the planet, and even Lucifer had to gasp as thousands of statistics and figures swirl around the planet. Showing things that none of the angels had considered looking at on how the planet was doing.
God then reached over and took the sheets of paper from Metatron and flipped through them casually before handing them back. "Lucifer exploited a legal loophole. Far from fair, but still legal by your rules." God then takes a pen and starts writing in small functions and rules into the Earth setting.
"What just happened?" Asks a voice from behind God. It was Michael, and he was staring at a portable device keeping track of Earth. Then he realizes who was in the room in front of him. "Sir!"
"After penance, all go to heaven, win or lose." States God. "I won't exile those who I forgot. All deserve peace in the end."
At that both Michael and Lucifer blink. "Yes sir." they both state in unison.
God puts a hand on each of their shoulders, and then steps out of the break room, much to the relief of all of the minor angels. Some go back to work, as others return to their break.
Metatron looks up at the two. "God said that the use of the loophole was legal. The Satan gambit is still in effect." And with that Lucifer grins and Michael face-palms.
"So how much does that make me owe you?" Asks Micheal in a pained voice. | "Father, you have *got* to stop these new things from invading my house!"
The Divine Nebula twisted around to the Morningstar, and performed its grin logarithm. "Now, Son, you know I only ran these simulations out of morbid curiosity. What seems to be the problem?"
I started, watching the oncoming storm rising through the galaxy. The Morningstar sighed, a distinctly mortal thing. "Father, that simulation you ran all those years ago. The one with the two four-base beings in the Aurora machine? They're still going." The Divine Nebula sparkled, Creation wandering across its starcloud. "More importantly, Father, they are....much more populous than we expected them to get. And they're stealing my things now.
"Apparently, I'm the ruler of their dark afterlife. And you cast me down, Father, in their minds." The Morningstar sneered, his tentacled limbs moving in a horrible parody of a shrug. "Still, Ithink you had best look in, Father. I thought you should know." The Morningstar turned to leave, and the Divine halted him with a gaseous emission.
"Son, bring the Auropra simulation to me, and let us take a look."
/ / / / / / / /
I looked out tot he stars, knowing that they weren't real. It's a hoprrible...**freeing**...thought.
"I know you're out there, God!" I yelled into the storm. "**I DARE YOU, STRIKE ME DOWN IF YOU HAVE THE COURAGE!**"
/ / / / / / / /
"hMMM..." the Divine Nebula hummed. "I like him, he's sparky. Let's grant him his wish."
The Divine struck him down by way of lightning. I watched on. The Divine turned to me.
"Well, there are plenty more where that one came from, so it's okay to grant his wish. And remember - if you do it right, people will wonder if you were ever involved at all." | 2016-03-07T07:23:50 | 2016-03-07T04:27:53 | 22 | 16 |
[WP] Lucifer is trying to take a man's soul, but it turns out the man is a car salesman, and a good one. Describe their negotiations. | "Yeah, see, as much as I'd like to take that deal, I just don't know if it would be worth it for me."
"Worth it?" Lucifer asked. "Of *course* it's worth it! For just the measly sum of your immortal soul, you can be a movie star, a millionaire. You can have any girl you want!"
"Yeah, but I just don't know if that's really worth the price of my immortal soul, ya know? Forever is a pretty long time."
Lucifer had been at this for nearly an hour now. This guy was proving to be one of the most obstinate, stubborn people he'd ever had the misfortune of trying to trick out of their soul.
"I'm just thinking, ya know, signing over my soul for eternity is a pretty bad deal for, what, sixty years of riches?"
Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose. He was the king of the damned, damn it, how could one human be so frustrating?
"Listen, Bob," Lucifer said smoothly, clasping an arm around his target. "Picture it. Mojitos every day, life in first class all the time. Babes willing to do anything for you, enough money to do anything you want. Doesn't it sound like your wildest dream come true?"
"It sure does sound swell," Bob agreed. "But my biggest dream was always to be *known* for something."
Lucifer perked up. Finally, something this guy *wanted*.
"Like what, Bobby, old pal?" Lucifer asked, voice oozing with faux sweetness. "You know your buddy is willing to give you anything you want."
"I've always wanted to cure something." Bob said, his eyes sparkling.
"Cancer?" Lucifer suggested. "AIDs? Alzheimer's?"
"I was thinking... aging." Bob said, carefully watching Lucifer's reaction.
"Aging?" Lucifer asked, more to himself than to Bob. He stroked his short goatee and pondered for a moment. "I... suppose that's not too far out of the realm of possibility. You'd be willing to sign over your soul for it?"
"Gosh, I think so." Bob said, smiling. "Wouldn't it be just great? Bob Anderson: the guy who cured aging. Everybody would be so amazed."
"I think I can make that happen for you, friend." Lucifer said, his mouth curling into a wicked grin. He conjured up a contract and a pen out of thin air. "Just sign on the dotted line, Bobby, my boy."
It took Bob a good while to read through the contract, and he scribbled a few things out "-*no,* Lucy, you don't get my firstborn's soul, too-" and added a few things in "-I'd like to make sure I get compensated for my brilliant idea and no one steals credit from me." By the end of it all, Lucifer was practically bouncing waiting for him to sign the damn thing.
"Alright, there." Bob said, signing his name with a flourish. The ink looked suspiciously like blood but he didn't want to be rude by asking about it.
"Thanks, Bob." Lucifer said, rolling up the contract with a *snap* of his fingers. "You'll probably regret this moment for the rest of eternity."
~
Back in Hell, Lucifer strode proudly through the doors of the Department of Soul Collection and tossed the contract on top of the pile marked "NEW".
"See boys?" He announced. "That's how you take a soul."
Beelzebub looked over and started laughing.
"Guys, GUYS." He said between wheezes. "Lucy got a new soul- BOB ANDERSON'S."
The department erupted into raucous laughter. Lucifer looked around, bewildered by the response from his coworkers.
"Dude, everyone's got that guy's soul." Mephistopheles said. "What'd he get you to give him for it? Guy's already got instant healing, he's impervious to all weapons, immune to disease, permanently unable to enter the gates of hell, unable to be summoned by demons, and for some reason, he swindled world class chef skills out of Abbadon over there."
"He, uh..." Lucifer started, before trailing off. He cleared his throat. "He got me to grant him the cure for aging."
All the demons in the office groaned.
"That was like his one last weakness, man." Mephistopheles said indignantly. "Now none of us are ever gonna be able to actually collect on his soul."
From the corner of the room, a deep, raspy voice piped up.
"It's all my fault." Kronos said quietly. He was one of the oldest down in Hell, an original Titan predating nearly every religion. He sighed and closed his eyes. "In exchange for his soul, I agreed to make him the best salesperson that ever existed. Now, I fear, he is greater than us all." | *A man is sleeping, dreaming of a newlywed couple buying their first car, unknown to them they just signed an awful 7% interest deal on a used 2006 Nissan Quest*
*FIRE ERUPTS FROM THE MANS SLEEPING QUARTERS, LUCIFER UNVEILS HIMSELF TO THE MORTAL HELL WE CALL EARTH*
"H-H-HOLY SHIT! You're the Devil!" Larry screams
"Not only am I the Devil, I'm here to take YOU away, for scamming people out of tens of thousands of dollars over the last six years!"
"You can't do that!" The man exclaims. "That's not how my dream ended!"
Confused, the Devil asks "What?! It doesn't matter how your dream ended! You're coming with me!"
"I can't! The deal won't let me!"
"Cut the shit, Larry. Lets go!"
"0%... 0%... 0%..." the man chants over and over
"Larry, Larry what the fuck!"
*THE HOUSE EXPLODES, LARRY GROWS TO 40 FEET TALL, TOWERING OVER LUCIFER. THE WHOLE WORLD CRUMBLES BENEATH THEM, TRANSFORMING IN TO A REASONABLY PRICED, GREAT LOCATION FOR KIDS AND FAMILY, CASUALLY SERVING BEVERAGES AND NICE AND TIDY WITH A GOOD TASTE IN MUSIC FIAT DEALERSHIP*
"YOU CANT DO THIS! IM THE DEVIL!" Lucifer shouts.
"Too. Fucking. Bad." Larry says, with a smirk. "I'm the real Devil."
"NOW SIGN!" Larry shouts, over and over again, at a whimpering, cowardly Lucifer.
"I'll be honest, Lucy. You're really getting a good deal. I hope my manager doesn't catch me doing this, I'd be toast."
"You're an asshole, Larry" Lucifer mutters under his breath as he's driving away in his brand new 2015 Fiat 500 Sport for just $16,500 at 0% and no money down. | 2015-11-08T16:33:36 | 2015-11-08T14:25:42 | 388 | 34 |
[WP] The year is 2030, and the entire world is firmly under the control of the Australian Empire, and no one really understands how it happened. | The last try had just been scored. The Queen let out a tear, then ordered Prince Phillip to shoot her, before the "colonial dogs and dregs got to her." Twickenham was on fire. Rioting was breaking out. The Wallabies had just finished conquering the known world.
Lets rewind a few years.
The Trans Pacific Partnership, a massive legalese document meant to do certain things, then cancerously tumoured into something else. Certain things about "investor state disputes" and various intellectual property agreements.
This was the beginning of the end. Many treaties like this spanned every country on the world map.
It started slowly. Countries were on guard against technology and pharmaceutical firms. Against Basketball and Soccer companies. But nobody expected the Australians to use Rugby. There was a series of landmark court cases which revealed a number of damning truths:
1. That no country could legally refuse to play Rugby against Australia.
2. That the intellectual property penalties were so high that infringing them would immediately bankrupt any country.
3. That a "competitive match for the assets of an organisation" counted as a legally binding wager.
When Australia played Rugby against your national side, you were wagering your entire sporting IP. When you lost, it was now owned by Australia. However, historical infringements totalled into the quadrillions of dollars and now Australia owned your country.
It started with Japan. The US fell early. Asia Pacific went under although Fiji, Tonga and Samoa were placed under blockade until their players succumbed to famine. Africa was easy going apart from the Springboks, til a final, 50 minutes of overtime, sudden death with four actual deaths games in Pretoria ended with a single drop kick.
The Americas fell, unable to scrounge anyone better than Argentina. Asia just surrendered. Europe was the last bastion. A hard fought campaign was launched from Eastern Europe, with Russia trusting to a Siberian winter to slow the Wallabies down. No dice.
Sweeping down over Germany, the Australians were stumped by the neutral Swiss, who in a cunning plan had blown up all their sports grounds, the scheming French who were unable to field an injury free team for five years (STDs were ruled as legal reasons not to play), and the Italians, who couldn't commit to a single time.
But eventually two of them fell and the Swiss were ignored.
Spain was on a Siesta, and the Ireland got shamrock and rolled. Wales put up a stunning defence, but the Dragon was slain. Scotland came with kilts and claymores, but despite slaughtering 50 Wallabies under a creative interpretation of the rules, still lost the game.
The Last Bastion: England. Twickenham, the Home of Rugby. The Lions vs the Wallabies. Queen Elizabeth the Second's mechasuit was there, and she played her heart out, literally, before being subbed to have her remaining organic components operated on. The English and the Aussies had a blistering game. High scoring, action packed and dramatically close. With 30 seconds to go, the Aussies got a final Try, giving them a 2 point lead at 80 minutes.
Australia now controlled the world. And so it lasted for decades.
Australia schools flourished under the one world Rugby government. Sciences and Arts grew. Health increased massively, and a race of supermen and women appeared. Everything was going fine. Nobody was disappearing at the hands of the secret police. There was no talk of a "blacked out nation". Everything was good. By law.
Let us move forward in history. 2099. Australia has controlled the world for nearly 70 years. The conquest is taught in schools. Heavily sanitised for the children of course. Bazza Bazzason was sitting in class, looking through some old books. Atlases from before the Uniting. Curious at the comparison, he took it to his teacher. "Miss, what's this country here?" The teacher looked over, then, in shock, as she was secretly an agent for the ministry of truth, grabbed a Vivid and scrubbed over the offending atlas with black ink.
"Bazza, that's not a country that exists. It was an error. We know now that it's just water there." The lie to a child was easy. The lie to herself was harder. Black Vivid. A Blacked Out Country. Black Bagging for talking about it. Black Sites. And yet, these were not the fearful things. The country really did exist. The single country that the Wallabies had been unable the conquer. Maybe it was prophetic that their warriors were called 'the Originals', 'the Invincibles'. They had a terrifying stance, and fearful intimidation rituals.
From the blacked out country they came: The All Blacks. | January 26, 2030 – Australia Day
The Australian flag decorated literally everything, bunting draped over buildings, fake tattoos plastered on people, flying from the roofs of passing vehicles. I stepped out of my hotel, headed for the beach despite the winter chill in the air, giant inflatable thong and an esky of pre-mix Bundy rum in hand. The Jersey shoreline was filled to the brim, though only a select few of the most drunken souls braved the icy waters, TripleJ’s top 100 blasted from every available speaker, and you couldn’t take more than five steps without seeing a beer bong or a barbie.
The Australian anthem played as the traditional Australia Day tunes were interrupted and a collective Boo rose from the gathered masses.
“We hate to interrupt the tunes but we have a super special guest who, on the fifth anniversary of the greatest empire in history, has a few words for all of us.” The radio presenter apologised.
If you asked, no one really remembered how it had happened. There was no great world war, no military coup, no overt aggression on the Australians behalf. It just happened. In the wake of former President Trumps arrest in 2022, Australia had offered humanitarian aid to all the countries affected by the self-styled king of the Americas. From there it was a short year before the most unlikely woman seized control of the governments of almost the entire world, and it was only three more years before the rest ceded to Australia in a completely bloodless take over. No-one knows how she did it, but to be perfectly honest, we were much, much better off.
“Hello Possums.” A highly recognizable voice greeted over the airwaves.
“Empress Edna Everidge, how’s it going?”
| 2017-02-14T11:56:22 | 2017-02-14T11:48:21 | 635 | 11 |
[WP] You are immortal, but no one knows. You are given a life sentence in prison, and you laugh thinking about the confusion to come at the end of your sentence. | During my long, long life, I have been known by many names. The Demon Child, the Monster in Human Clothes, the Devourer of Souls, the Undying Monster, and my personal favorite, the God of Death. It’s quite a fitting title too. After all, what creature has killed more people than I have throughout the millenniums? Humans have always tried to kill me in response, of course. I have been stabbed in Greece, shot by a cannon in France, hung in Britain, poisoned in India, fed to starving dogs in Russia, buried alive in the Sahara desert, the list goes on and on. And yet, no matter how much they mutilate my body, even if they take the time to reduce every last scrap of my flesh into ash, a few weeks later, accounts pop up again in a different country of a vicious child that has murdered dozens in its path.
It took a while, of course, for the different nations to realize that they were after the same person. I made sure to always be traveling, never staying in the same country for more than a few months. But with the constant advance of human technology and increased communications between the different countries, I suppose it was inevitable that they would eventually catch up to me. They found me sleeping in a closet in Chernobyl in the twentieth century. Over a hundred soldiers had been assembled for the mission. I could have chosen to escape of course, but I was tired of constantly running at that point. Besides, part of me was curious about what the humans would do to me.
It seemed that they had decided that I was immortal and that trying to kill me would only prove futile. So instead, they built a prison for me instead, far out in the Atlantic Ocean, where no one would be able to rescue me. During the night, before the transfer, the guards taunted me about the hellish conditions that I would be placed in. Although I cannot see, hear or even speak, I do know some details about my prison, thanks to them. For starters, I’ve been blindfolded, gagged and wax has been plugged into my ears. My hands and legs have been tied behind me in chains and my body has been plunged into liquid cement from my legs down. There is also apparently a fifty foot high electric fence surrounding me while the ground has been coated with some kind of poisonous adhesive. The only things that keeps me fed are a vast number of medical tubes running throughout my body, delivering me nutrients while extracting waste.
I suspect that there are even more countermeasures, of course. I was told that I would left to rot alone in this chamber with all of the entrances sealed off, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they were security cameras or drones hiding in the darkness, observing my every movement. Despite my dire circumstances, I couldn’t stop myself from cracking a smile. They were in for quite the show. An inescapable prison, they had called it. What naive fools. As if any prison could hold me. The whole time I had been here, I could have escaped at any point I wanted to. For every soul that I had removed from the mortal realm, a new vessel had been born for me. How many vessels did I have now, I wondered. A million? Five million? Ten million, perhaps? My existence would never truly fade from this world.
Closing my eyes, I took one last breath and let go of my body. I could feel my skin disintegrating, my bones slowly crumbling apart as my organs melted together into one disgusting mixture of entrails. It was excruciatingly painful, which is why I rarely resorted to it, but it was necessary to escape in these circumstances.
A few hours later, off the coast of North Carolina, all was still and peaceful on the December night. Suddenly though, the silence was interrupted as a small boy’s head burst out from the surface, gasping for breath. He looked up at the full moon in the sky and a mad smile appeared on his face. “Time to start over,” he said laughing as he swam toward the shore. | Life sentence it is. It's been 70 years now. Given the fact that i had been 55 already when they put me in jail one might think it would be strange for me to stay alive for so long, but until today, no one has noticed. They probably didn't open my file in a while.
"Day 24.999" i wrote on top of the page. Keeping track of the time that's been passing by writing my diary was one way for me to keep the bit sanity i had left. I didnt want to have gotten mad by the time they let me outta here.
I finished todays entry on the top half of the last page. I got up from my chair and put the book up to the other 49 i had already standing in the small cabinet that i owned. I closed the blinds and turned off the small light that was sitting on my bedside table. I was exited. Tomorrow would be the day to find out. Tomorrow will be the day when they question my punishment. Maybe it wont be for life after all. But that is to be seen on Day 25.000. | 2017-05-20T18:09:18 | 2017-05-20T14:44:10 | 176 | 110 |
[WP] After thousands of years on a generation ship sent out to colonize the universe, nobody alive on board the ship believes in the "myth" of Planet Earth anymore. Until they receive the first transmission from Earth in hundreds of years... | The face on the screen was warped by horizontal lines that pulsed over it. The voice that should have accompanied the message was buried in a deep grave of static. It crackled incomprehensibly, the transmission weakened by its journey of -- who knew how long -- through the aether.
"You think they'll be able to fix the sound, Keon?"
I turned away from the stuttering image and looked at the girl sitting on the hot steel-pipe next to me. Streaks of oil stained her cheeks, and her tongue was back between her teeth as she jabbed a screwdriver into the stomach of the broken cleaning-droid lying on her lap. It would have to be replaced, but I'd let her have her fun for a while longer.
Ocea and I had been a maintenance duo for the best part of a ship's cycle, but I doubted we'd be partners much longer: she was too smart, too gifted, to be stuck in a dead-end job like this for long. And I... Well, I wasn't. But I was sensible. Realistic. Two things Ocea was not.
Of course, none of it mattered. Not really. In less than ten cycles we would be at Eltima Prux, the planet that we had been travelling towards for over a thousand generations. And once we were there, my life would change. No more maintenance. No more forced partners or listening to orders. Instead, I'd build my own home out of wood and stone -- just me, no other bunks in there. I'd grow fruit in the garden and sleep beneath the trees during the days. I was already counting down the days.
Captain Makoski had made the decision to broadcast the message onto every screen in the ship, so even down where we were, in the bowels of the Horizon, we would hear the broadcast. The Captain must have thought we all deserved some good news after the fire, and something like this -- a transmission from another ship, or maybe even a colony -- belonged to everyone. So far however, all we had were pictures and static, but it was still incredible to be looking back at an eerily familiar face, separated from us by thousands of cycles and who knew how much space. It was the first transmission received since I'd been born, and likely for hundreds of years previous to that.
I shrugged. "Doubt it. It looks a million cycles old to me. But at least we get to look at the images, right?"
Ocea dug deeper into the droid, placing the screwdriver down beside her, and jamming a hand into its metal belly. She grinned as she pulled out a frayed red wire, then shot me a look. "Just because it's old, doesn't mean its can't be fixed. Besides, I'm pretty sure I can hear something mixed in with the static. So all they need to do is isolate it." She took a coil of wire from her backpack and began wrapping it around the worn out area.
"This transmission is seriously ancient, Ocea. I doubt they'll get anything useful from it. The image is choppier than the hydro-unit during an asteroid belt; they won't even be able to read the man's lips."
She had finished wrapping with the wire and was squirting a white gel over it that would soon harden and turn into a plastic coating. "Come on Keon. They only need to block out the frequency of the white noise and"--she flicked a switch on the base of the droid; its lights blinked twice--"hey presto, they'll have it working!"
I watched, both a little jealous and a little impressed, as Ocea placed the droid onto the ground. Its wheels slowly spun as it crawled to the nearest charging pod. I forced myself to smile, "I knew you could it."
Ocea opened her mouth to respond, when the background fuzz of static suddenly warped into to a high-pitched screech, before falling into a voice.
"...Sent this message and it should reach you shortly before your arrival," the man said in a deep stentorian voice.
"Holy shit!" Ocea whispered, her face beaming. "They've got it working, Keon. I just knew they would!"
My heart paused as the man spoke; it then attempted to make up for the delay by trying to beat its way out of my ribs. I touched Ocea's shoulder with my hand. "He's speaking Horizic, Ocea."
She nodded excitedly but said nothing.
The man continued in the common tongue of the ship. "And Earth will have already fallen. There is no easy way to tell you this"--the picture crackled and the sound muted for a moment, before returning--"Eltima Prux is not a planet. It exists only in your ship's computer and was created by us mere months before you left. You must believe me when I say there was no choice in this deception, as you are now the last of us. If you had known the truth when you had left orbit, you would have given up a long time ago. You can not settle on a planet. They will catch you if you even so much as slow--"
The screen faded to black; the Captain must have cut off the transmission.
"Earth, Keon." Ocea's voice was gentle and her arms were trembling. "He said Earth, didn't he? I swear I heard it. You must have heard it, too. The creation story, Keon... That means it was real, doesn't it?"
I wanted to shout at her, to say 'Who cares if Earth was real or not?! What does that matter to a ship probably a billion miles away from it? All that matters to us is Eltima Prux. That the planet I had dreamt of since I was a child, doesn't even exist. That's what matters. Not what we left, but where we're going!'
But I didn't shout. Instead I took Ocea's hand and steadied it between mine. We sat in near silence for the longest time, the only sounds the occasional creaks and groans of the pipe beneath us, until a high pitch noise wailed out through the bay.
"What the hell is that?" I asked, covering my ears.
The answer didn't come from Ocea, but from the thick metal door that slammed down behind us.
They were sealing off the ship. Either because of another fire, or a mutiny.
The dulled gunshots that came from somewhere above us told me which.
| This story is based in the same universe as [this](https://www.reddit.com/r/phreaklikeme/comments/8vv4sj/wp_as_long_as_you_keep_praying_everyone_stays/) prompt I did a while ago.
---
"What does this mean, Haruspex?" asked Governer Merther, voicing the concerns of the council.
Haruspex Toyne could almost taste the tension in the air. This was the Time of Tribulation; not only was hope dwindling of finding a new Haruspex to replace him, but now they had to deal with a message from whatever gods or demons were trying to speak to them. The Heralds had spoken with a new voice today, one that had not been heard before. Whatever was being said must have been important indeed, for even the Goddess announced it. Dutifully, Toyne had poured over the message for hours, buying as much time as he could from the curiosity of the council. But he could defer them no longer.
Breathing deeply to steady himself, he felt the weight of his age as he stood up. Slowly, he placed the Mitre over his head once more, pleading with the Goddess to replay the message.
"Greetings, Oracle. This is Earth-Commandante Roker. Our records show you have been wandering for a long time, but we're glad to say you have made it back home. We will be sending out a vessel to make sure everyone is ok, and that the ship is in good condition to land. Please grant them permission to dock, and we look forward to seeing you all soon."
The silence in the room was deafening, but all eyes were now transfixed firmly on the Haruspex as he removed the mitre carefully and replaced it on the Sepulchre.
"Not much can be gleaned from the message. It appears to be the same ancient language of our Prayers. For example, the Herald speaks of Ara-Su, one of the ancient Gardens. As you all know many generations ago, heretics proclaimed that Ara-Su was the Primary Garden; the well-spring of life. As such, this message may well be heretic. If we wish to avoid bloodshed like in the War of Gardens, we would do well to conceal knowledge of this message."
The Sepulchre was as silent as the grave; no one even dared breathe. The very thought of a recurrence of the War of Gardens was enough to send shivers down one's spine.
The silence was broken by the Heralds once more, followed by the gentle voice of the Goddess.
"Vessel detected, seeking permission to dock. Interception time t minus eighteen hours. Select Protocol."
Toyne looked over at Merther. "Governer, they are almost here. What would you have me do?"
Merther bit his lower lip in anxiety. He could not risk another war, there was too much at stake. Hell, who knew how much longer they'd have the Haruspex for? His age was showing, and he had no children to succeed him. He looked over at Toyne, his eyes beseeching him to make the call. Toyne nodded in understanding.
Carefully replacing the Mitre on his head, Toyne recited the ancient prayer of his ancestors.
"Initiate airspace intruder protocol six. Arm all systems, fire at will."
---
If you enjoyed this story and would like to see more from me, please consider subscribing to my subreddit [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/phreaklikeme/)! | 2018-08-28T08:17:23 | 2018-08-28T08:08:26 | 176 | 32 |
[WP] After weeks of sleep studies, Subject #437 had managed to retrieve a tangible leaf from his drug induced dreams. As the scientists rejoiced with how much we can interact with a tangible world beyond ours, they grew equally fearful of the sleepwalkers in subsection 4. | The building in which I’d worked for the past four months was not the clean, white series of rooms that you’d see in movies, boasting extensive and advanced technological equipment. Indeed, we were working with things that were new, but they were mostly chemical cocktails. The rest of what lined the shelves and filled the rooms of our subjects were standard medical monitoring equipment.
This is what came to the front of my mind when I heard about the leaf. Because that meant that what we were doing involved the human body, human capabilities, biology, not technology. It proved everything we’d hypothesized, everything we’d worked toward relentlessly day by day, week by week. The ability to create as a human being much as a god would, essentially. We were far from creating worlds, but this was the first step.
Working in subsection 4, though, something had started to tickle in the back of my brain about our assignments. The past few weeks had made me wary. Not scared, exactly, just wary. Uncomfortable in a way I couldn’t quite express. The dreams of our subjects were, as much as we could do so, induced. We had them watching certain movies during the day to influence their dreams because, after all, what dreams are is an amalgamation and organization and cleanup of what we experienced that day.
As I walked into room three to talk to Luca, I was once again struck by how his demeanor had changed since he’d first arrived. All of the volunteers were retired soldiers, trained to endure long, boring periods of time and had submitted to extensive psychological evaluation before we started our work. Luca had started as a typical male, in my view, (he was thirty-one) and had become, I’d surmised at first, more easygoing.
Then it had progressed further. He started picking up the procedures I went through, the knowledge I held, learning things at an impossible speed, following logic to an extent that his file had never indicated was a talent of his. Some of the other patients had also exhibited a change in personality and, we realized, it was because of where they were going when they dreamt.
Luca watched Star Trek throughout the day. Our hope was to eventually pull the technology from a dream he had into our world and reverse engineer it, if at all possible. But it was one step at a time, one dream at a time, and he’d not yet been able to pull anything back with him. The leaf, though. The leaf was a big step. A subject who spent their time early Disney movies had done it, plucked it from a forest surrounding Snow White.
Luca had been brought into this room, much like one you would find for examination at your GP, from the dorms for today’s analysis. From here he would go to another section for tonight’s experiment and monitoring. “Good morning, Dr. Burton,” he said, sitting upright in the chair off to the side.
“When did that start, exactly?” I asked with a smile. “It’s Paige, I told you.”
“Paige, apologies. How are you today?”
“I’m good, and you?”
Luca paused. “I’m good. I think.”
I turned to him, suddenly worried. Our small talk was usually just that. “You think?”
Hesitating, Luca frowned slightly, a small exhibition of emotion, as much as I ever got from him these days. “There’s something I think I’d like to test today.”
“All right.” I sat down on the rolling stool near the cabinets. “What’s that?”
“Can I have a scalpel?”
I froze and blinked. “What?”
“A scalpel, Doctor,” he repeated. “Not to cause harm to you, and ideally not myself either, but I have some concerns and I feel it is important to perform a test.”
“Luca,” I said slowly, “what kind of test are you thinking of performing?”
“A small perforation on the back of my arm,” he replied. “Careful and away from the veins of my forearm.”
Swallowing hard, I rolled my stool over to his side. “I don’t understand. Why do you want to do this?”
He managed a small grimace. “I’d rather show you, if that’s all right. You can keep the first aid kit on hand, but I don’t anticipate much blood loss.”
Looking into his eyes, I saw nothing but the man I’d spoken with almost every day for the past four months. He was my patient, a subject, but to a certain extent I considered him a friend and everything in me did trust him. At least on something like this. I hesitated for a long moment but ultimately nodded. “All right,” I said quietly. “Just…a small incision. An experiment. And you won’t tell me what for?”
“I’d rather not worry you,” he replied.
I nodded and took a breath, standing from my seat. Removing and opening the first aid kit stored on the wall on the flat countertop surface, I took out the gauze wrap and medical tape, putting them aside. Then I fetched a scalpel from the drawer and grabbed a handful of gauze pads to stem the first of the bleeding. When I went back to his side, I hesitated again, but then handed it over.
Luca nodded at me once, carefully situating it in his hand like a pen in his right hand, he purposefully and delicately made a slit down the back of his forearm. Grimacing and wondering what the hell I’d been thinking, I immediately held the gauze in my hand to the wound to stem the bleeding. “Did that accomplish what you were hoping?” I asked.
“Possibly.” I stood there for a while to let the blood start to clot, then removed the gauze, damp with blood, carefully examining the wound. It didn’t continue to bleed as profusely as I’d expected and something in my chest loosened at that. And then Luca slid his index finger careful into the wound.
“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice louder than I’d meant it to be.
“An experiment,” he answered calmly. And a moment later, he nodded a few times. “I’m afraid I need to make two more incisions, Paige.”
“What for?” I asked. I was starting to stress. This was getting to be a bit much, especially since I still didn’t know what the goal here was.
At that, Luca didn’t bother with a reply, just doing exactly as he’d promised, and I rushed back over to the first aid kit. I tossed the bloody gauze into the Hazmat bin and grabbed another handful, going quickly back to his side. At that point, he had made the next two incisions in a rectangle shape and to my utter shock, proceeded to pull back the skin and I gasped.
“Luca,” I snapped, moving forward to stem the bleeding.
But I stopped. And I stared, frozen.
“This is what I was expecting,” he said. His voice was quiet, calm, and the exact opposite of what I was feeling.
“What…” I managed.
Luca looked up to me, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the wound to meet his gaze. Because underneath it, without a doubt, laid circuitry that I would have expected to find in a computer. “I had a feeling I would find this,” he told me. I finally dragged my wide eyes up to his, my mouth open but unable to make a sound. “Do you understand what this means?”
It took me a moment to gather myself. “What is that doing in your arm?” I finally asked. “What is it?”
Luca’s eyes narrowed in concern, as if I was a young pupil who had misunderstood the lesson he’d been teaching. “It’s not *in* my arm,” he explained. “It *is* my arm.” I blinked, my lips parting. “I’ve been bringing back things from my dreams for a few days now, it seems. And as you know, I’ve been watching through Lieutenant Commander Data’s eyes, our best guess being because he is my favorite character.”
I swallowed past a lump in my throat. “We-We need to…get you into x-ray,” I said.
“That’s not my primary concern at this point,” Luca told me. “Because there are many others in section four who have been going through the same procedures and experiments that I have. But they see through different eyes.” He paused, still holding my gaze. “Paige…have any of them been taking on the character of…some kind of villain or antagonist?”
​
/r/storiesbykaren | The spasms stilled as the screams filtered out into the halls, draining the life from the animated dreamer. None of the other patients or orderlies seemed affected by the outburst, and the dreamers still wandered the viewing chamber like rats in a maze. But the newly awakened Reacher leaned back on his heels, spine arching backwards, recoiling from the discordant shrieking.
The subject collapsed on the floor, a loud snap punctuating the fall. The bones of the Reachers deteriorated over time, turning to brittle paste more than bone, a side effect of the medication cocktail each patient received. Most Reachers never move, confined to their false realities and awakened only on the orders of the staff, but the somnambulists differed from the rest of the stock.
The deepest dreamers always have some place to be, it seemed.
Dr. Cortez rushed to the side of the Reacher, cradling his head in his palm. It was his responsibility to keep these "volunteers" alive, but the cure was beginning to be more harmful than the disease.
The Reacher was barely conscious. Low shallow breaths escaped his mouth in inaudible whispers, his chest heaving with every struggled gasp. Sweat poured down his forehead as his body tried desperately to stave off whatever had infected his mind.
"Wayne," said Cortez, motioning for the staff to find the stretcher. "Can you hear me, son?"
"Out," said the Reacher, raspy and starved of air. "Want out..."
Cortez rested Wayne's head on his lap, pulling the nearest tray of tools to him. He grabbed from the tray two syringes and vials; one for the jolt, one for the crash.
"I know you want out, son," he said. "Everybody wants out of this hellhole. Just stay with me for now, okay? I need you to tell me what you saw, what you felt."
The first syringe pierced Wayne's skin just below his jaw, and his tense body slackened a little, the medications slowing his body but not his mind. Not too different from the main serum in the veins of almost every person in the building. Almost.
Wayne's eyes widened, panic pushing through the induced lethargy like a knife through willing flesh.
"Hate!" he screamed. "So much hate..."
"What do you mean, hate?" asked Cortez, putting his hand to Wayne's forehead. Hot like an iron.
"I hate it." The scream had faded to a whisper, close and febrile. "I hate the pain, I hate the lies. I hate who we are."
"It's fine, son, you're okay. We're getting the stretcher for you now."
"They hate it more."
The room chilled, everyone freezing in place. The stretcher Cortez called for rolled to a halt beside him, but no orderlies accompanied it, leaving the doctor to his own results and devices.
Cortez lifted the frail Reacher onto the stretcher one leg at a time, quickly fastening the restraints on the wrists and legs.
"What do you mean, 'They'," he asked, looping the final restraint.
Wayne's eyes closed, but movement stirred beneath them, fast and erratic like he was searching for some lost thought locked away in his mind. He didn't struggle in the restraints as he normally did, but his hands were clenched at his side, his knuckles turning white.
He hummed a tune, melodic and eerily slow, like a crawling promise in the air.
"We dream of doors, doctor," he said dreamily, eyes closed. "Doors to wonderful places. Doors to the most fantastic and the least horrific. Or maybe the opposite."
Before Cortez began the trek to rehabilitation and debriefing, he leaned over Wayne.
"Who are 'They'?" he repeated, forceful and concerned.
"The ones who made the locks."
Wayne burst out into a manic fit of laughter, cackling like a madman, which, given the state of the experiment thus far, is not too far from the role. His chest heaved with every forceful push of what little muscle remained in him, and soft clicks filled the air between the fits of hysteria.
Bones cracking from the delusional hilarity.
Cortez quickly grabbed the second vial, flustered in the heat of the moment, plunged a new syringe and injected it into the mad Reacher. Still, Wayne laughed, tearing his body apart piece by piece in laughable agony.
Then he went still.
The clock ticked in the corner of the room, the resounding thud of every second spent watching the Reacher reverberating through the whole building. Cortez approached the still body of Wayne and felt for a pulse, finding nothing.
"Nurse, call it," he said, leaning against the rails of the stretcher.
As the orderly followed procedure, Cortez ignored him, focusing on the peaceful, resting face of the oldest patient in the facility. When he slept, he had always worn a sour face as if disappointed in what he saw. Now, there was a slight grin that grew across his mottled skin.
A glint of light caught Cortez's eye, a tiny twitch of movement. He looked down to Wayne's hand, a crumpled mess of torn tendons and ligaments, and saw the slight sheen of metal between his fingers. Cortez pried open the fingers, unsure of what he'd see, unexpecting of anything but another stolen tool, and saw what had driven Wayne mad, driven him to death.
Between the gangly fingers, coated in brackish blood, was a key of bone.
\--------------
r/The_Rubicon | 2021-03-23T19:01:50 | 2021-03-23T17:25:54 | 22 | 13 |
[WP] They've just invented a 500,000 frame per second video camera. The problem is that they've found something unexpected at those speeds | It all started when someone asked the question, "What if we could?" As with most creations, what drove us to create was simply our quest for answering that question. What if we could? What would we see?
The science was difficult, to say the least. To put it into perspective, it was easier to slow down the frames per second to 450,000 than it was to slow it down to 450,001. Each additional frame we slowed down took twice as much time as the one prior. But, what if we could?
We weren't creating peace on earth, we weren't solving hunger. We were simply trying to quench our thirst for knowledge. We wanted to know... no, we *needed* to know what we would see if we could take a video of something that the human eye could simply not imagine. We wanted to see, light. It travels so fast that for most of human history, we thought it simply existed, and didn't fathom that it was actually travelling. You switch on a light switch in a room, and light exists all around you, instantaneously, in every corner and every knook. It wasn't until we started asking why, that we started learning more about Light. The Stars in the night sky appear to be shimmering right at us, existing simultanously with us in this Universe of ours. But the truth is, their light took a very long time and travelled a very long distance to come to us. What we are essentially doing, is looking into the past.
Those Stars are billions and trillions of miles away from us, and we can't even be sure if they exist anymore. But what if we could see light that surrounds us, the light that exists all around us? What does it look like? What is it doing? Those were the two questions we put most of our focus on. The question we blatently disregarded were, "What would happen to the viewer?" "Are we meant to see it?"
It was always going to be me to first see it. It was my idea, and it was my question. In hindsight, I should have told someone I was going to turn the Video Camera on. I should have told them that I was coming into the office at 2 in the morning on the day of the test and running it myself. I wanted to be the first one to see it, I *needed* to be the first one to see it. Hindsight is, as they say, 20/20.
I'll always remember the first day after I ran the test. I guess I can't really call it a day, but I can't think of anything else to call it, so a 'day' it is. Its strange how long it took me to realize what happened. You never really know how still the world around you is, until it is completely still. Either that, or I never really knew how little attention I paid to my surroundings. I was disapointed, to I paid extra little attention to my surroundings. The expirement had failed, I saw nothing through the Camera. Nothing happened. Nothing, except for the fact that the Camera stopped working after the first try. I thought I fried it. Thought.
It was at least a good four hours later when I first noticed something was different in the world. And what finally tipped me off, was the movement of a floating leaf; or rather, the lack there of. I was leaving my house to go face the wrath of my lab, and it floated a few feet from my front door. At first I thought it was caught in an updraft. Then I thought that it was hanging by some sort of string, maybe caught in a spider's web. I must have spent a good 15 minutes staring and observing the leaf in utter disbelieve. And than, finally, I started to look around, and realized the leaf wasn't a single occurance. *Nothing* was moving, everything was completely frozen.
Of course, months later, and after thorough research was when I found out that the world had not frozen around me, rather it was moving at a speed so slow that my eyes couldn't realize it. Everything was moving less than a millimetre each day. Everything except me.
On the bright side, at least now I have more time. More time to do my research, more time to read and learn more. More time to do anything I want to. But it sure is lonely moving so exponentially fast that everything around you seems as it is frozen forever. I never even begin to think how lonely it is to be light. Maybe one day I'll be able to slow down and match the rest of the world in speed. But I really doubt it. But still, the question remains... *What if I could?* | Barry couldn't believe his eyes. All his wildest imaginations, which he had pushed back into the corners of his mind turned out to be true.
It had been his project, and he had gotten the founding from some eccentric millionaire, as no government agency would support him: Putting high speed camera on buoys in an especially notorious part of the Bermuda Triangle.
They were taking 500.000 pictures a second, but only kept and relayed them when there were significant changes from one frame to the next.
And what he had on record was unbelievable: A flying saucer hovering besides a yacht, with an extended ramp, on which small green aliens went on and off the yacht with different devices.
One alien held a device with an antenna close to the out-of-view behind of one of the humans - too close for the antenna to have any room.
It was only a few frames, even though so much happened. In less than a 1000th of a second, the aliens were gone.
He sent the video to his backer and some of his professional friends. And then the file was gone. He looked through his computer, but there was nothing. The logfiles which should have recorded what happened were also gone. The only thing he could track was a secure delete which had finished before he could do anything.
Barry called the friends he had sent the files to: They had received a notification that an email was there, but when they checked, there wasn't any.
In the meantime, in a hidden location at a secret facility, a government employee had seen the same video. He had put it on high priority and sent it to his supervisor. And both of them then had the same issue as Barry and his friends.
What the aliens didn't know was that there was a secret facility monitoring this facility. And all high priority emails would go to them, too, through secret lines.
The unknown agent in that facility realised quickly what was happening. And that when he forwarded the movie to his government, he would be exposed and his government would not be able to do anything. He started making plans... | 2015-02-06T14:36:14 | 2015-02-06T14:34:08 | 26 | 11 |
[WP]You and your fellow immortals play a hide and seek game every few millennia. The only rule is you can't move once you pick your spot. The whole world is the playground. And you're it. | I tapped the enter key on the laptop sitting in front of me and waited. Twenty seconds later the TV fixed to the wall opposite my desk flickered and went black. BBC World News had been playing and the 11am bulletin was just beginning when the video feed cut out. Slowly, glowing white letters began to appear randomly on the now black TV screen. An *R* appeared on the left, then *N* in the middle, then more. Slowly the words formed into a sentence and I sat back, smiling.
I muttered to myself, “ready or not, here I come.” The screen flickered and then returned to BBC studio. The elderly male presenter was holding his earpiece and sat listening for a second, then nodded, “we apologise for the technical issue that some viewers may have encountered. We now return…”
I laughed, knowing that *technical issue* would send the world’s conspiracy theorists into a craze, just like the Max Headroom broadcast I initiated decades earlier to test my system. That test broadcast had been meaningless, but this one? This one was different. It wouldn’t just be the conspiracy nutters whose interest would be piqued, the broadcast also triggered the start of the One Hundredth Round of Earth’s Hide and Seek and all the contestants had just been put on notice.
They’d been hiding for anywhere from 20 to 60 years. I’ve been hiding for 40. Last round there were 50 playing but Earth is becoming a favoured arena these days, so my guess for this round is more like 100.
I found the TV remote sitting in the top left draw and turned off the BBC. Now I sat, contemplating my next move. To the side of the laptop was a photo album. It looked innocent enough and if someone skimmed through the photos they might think it was just a lovely family album full of holiday snaps, if they didn’t know any of the people in the photos.
Fat chance of that I thought as I tapped the photo stuck to the first page of a famous actor smiling with his slightly dishevelled look. He was my first target. Just after I started my planning around 30 years ago he released his first excellent movie. He’d been top of my list ever since. Of course there was no way of being sure back then; that could only happen once the game had begun.
Someone knocked at my door.
“Come in,” I said, not lifting my gaze from the photo.
A young man, no older than 25 and carrying a large pot belly with severe acne, waddled through the door and sat down in the seat opposite my desk. He wheezed as he breathed.
I looked up at him, frowning, “how are the preparations going?”
He coughed and held up a finger, then fished around in his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. As he slowly worked to uncrumple it I looked at my watch, irritated that I’d chosen him for this job.
I had to be sure the people I put around me weren’t playing the game themselves, which necessitated hiring the types of people we’d usually try to avoid. Really though, it was no big deal. Bronson here was actually well qualified for what he’d been asked to do so I wasn’t too worried.
Bronson finally looked up at me, “good sir. We have narrowed down the coordinates of the first wave you want to hit and set most of the bait. We’ve also started work on the traps as you asked. Unfortunately we’re having a little difficulty with a couple of our tantalizers in southern Italy, but we have a team working to fix them as we speak.”
I nodded, “and what of the first meeting we arranged for our MC, has it been confirmed?”
“No sir. Unfortunately Keanu Reeves pulled out just moments ago.”
I smiled to myself, knowing the first bait had been taken. Bronson waited a moment for me to say something then started to stand, “I can go reschedule right now if you’d prefer?”
“No, no. Just tell Andy to start preparations for a flight to Los Angeles. I think I’ll just pay Mr Reeves a visit myself.”
Bronson nodded and waddled out.
I turned the page, tapping the book in habit as I read over the schematics of the first trap I’d ever made, many years ago, and felt the adrenaline course through my body. | The rain started to beat down on the plains. This was no ordinary rain, Lendaje must have forgotten of my ability to sense divine intervention. He wasn't very good at the game. There was only one tree in this location. "Ha!" maybe that was his plan, to make me afraid of inspecting it during a rainstorm.
I got closer, two silver horns were poking from a protruding in the trunk, "Lendaje!" I streaked back and tapped at the bermuda rock. "I saw you Lendaje."
There was no response. "I saw you you fool now come on out and get ready to count" I said. He didn't come out.
I went back to where I had found him. His horns still poked out. "Come on what is wrong with you?" I yanked out his horns and out came his head. I fell back in shock. His body then fell down severing the little strip of skin that had been holding them together. He had been the head of the weapons division, three times fighting champion known for his ability to take punishment. Now he was dead. Only a handful of gods could do this.
I raced back to the Bermuda rock and blew the emergency horn. Three hours passed. Still nobody came out. Then the waves started to churn and a titan crawled out from the sea. | 2019-06-23T05:56:24 | 2019-06-23T04:44:12 | 96 | 24 |
[WP] As a joke/Tic, an atheist always thanks the Dark Lord when good things happen. When they die, they are shocked to find out that The Dark Lord is real, and they are his favorite follower, as they never, ever asked for anything.
The Dark Lord's favor could be pleasant, or ironic, or mundane. Or maybe it's a Dark Lady, who knows? | It was very, very cold, and I wasn't quite sure where I was.
Mere seconds prior I'd stood outside my Bristol apartment fumbling with my key. As I cursed the wretched manufacturer who designed such a shoddy keyring, I caught a brief whiff of some strange gas. A flash of heat enveloped my body, and then suddenly everything was cold.
After a quick surge of panic, I forced myself to calm down and look around. My new surroundings were... interesting, to say the least. A desolate ruin of twisted spires and distant mountains bleeding icy blue. The ground was what looked like blackened earth, in a manner more akin to desolation than verdant soil, and little specks of black fell like snow. I pondered my surroundings, and myself. I can think, process things... this feels real, I'm not feeling anything I would if dreaming. The ability to develop and direct conscious thought being a fairly obvious tip-off. So... I'm not dreaming, that flash wasn't fake. Gas leak ignition? Bomb? Dream logic applies to coma as well, so...
I guess I'm dead. And this is what comes after.
Well shit. I hadn't actually believed in any sort of afterlife, the science just didn't match up. Still, it was good to see that it existed! Retaining my conscious mind was a much better fate than the oblivion of death I had been expecting. So the question I suppose is which mythos are we following here? Abrahamic? Greek? Egyptian? Mesopotamian makes most sense by time scale... well actually animism would be the oldest of religions. Hmm. Perhaps they're all wrong, but managed to correctly guess that an afterlife did exist? Fascinating thought, that.
Hmm... hoping it isn't Abrahamic. Atheist lesbians aren't going to go over so well with something like that. Shit, how exactly does this work? I mean, religions developed as they did because of socio-economics and biological needs, as well as a sense of community. That's why you have 'burn the unbeliever' and 'men and women banging only'. I... this has to be completely different, right? Gah, I need to steady myself, and then find whoever runs this place. Unless it's a form of punishment, an endless plane of isolation...
I gulped, briefly wondered that I could gulp in the afterlife, and inspected my body. Pleasantly, I was not covered in burn marks! Actually I looked better than I had in life. Smoother, paler skin; hair that seemed naturally red instead of dyed; and my body looked just a tad more willowy and gaunt. My clothes were pretty nice too, geeky and casual. Afterlife form a reflection of one's inner desires? Wait, what even I am? Must ask resident deity about mechanics of souls, minds, and transference of such things.
I sighed, and clenched my fists to steady myself properly. Right, well, first thing is to learn more about our surroundings. We... we might be seeing a lot of them in the future. I knelt down and scooped up a handful of the ground. It fell apart in my hand, and this close I could see it for what it was: ash. Well, that explains the black snow. More ash. Cold ash... not sure what that says about this place.
I started to get up, but a sudden swirling of ash froze me in place, intrigued and more than a bit apprehensive. The strange gust sent it twirling around and around, creating a dust devil of cold ash. I started to see glimpses of something inside of it, of crisp silver and subtle purple, and then the ash seemed to come together into a single shape. A towering form rose up, jagged armor of cool silver and dark grey adorning a lithe, feminine form that spoke of intimidation and power. In the air I caught a whiff of brimstone that surrounded her like a perfume.
Still kneeling, I looked up at her face and beheld dusky purple skin and a curling smirk of a mouth. Her face was framed by long, straight black hair that seemed to fate into wisps of darkness past her neck, and when I looked up further I saw tall, twisting black horns with etchings of glowing red scattered across them. But most striking about her face were her eyes, pits of burning red hellfire that seemed to draw me in.
I looked within those eyes, and I beheld every dark deed ever done. I heard the screams of the damned and the whispers of the damning, and I longed to join. Longed to destroy, to ravage, to corrupt. To go out into the world and spread darkness, spread chaos, spread excess and revelry. I desired in that moment to live my full self in a way I'd never been allowed, to reject society and social norms and do as I wished. To care for those dear to me, and to destroy those that would threaten me. I wanted to drink until I passed out, I wanted to kill everyone who had ever brought me suffering, I wanted to have sex with everyone I'd never had the courage to ask out, and I wanted to shatter every structure and every system that had ever kept me down or ever brought pain to those I cared about.
I wanted to understand the world in a way I never had, and question the very concepts of morality, free will, and justice.
A soft, wry laugh broke my reverie. I tore my eyes away from her own with more than a touch of regret, and tried to focus. "Um, hello. I'm not really sure why I'm here, or what exactly is going on. I'm uh, I'm Aela. I'm dead, right? What kind of an afterlife is this place, and, um, if it wouldn't trouble you... who are you?"
When she spoke, her voice was like cool water across my body, a soothing melody that nevertheless sent shivers down my spine. "To some, I am the Dark Lady. To others, the Queen of the Damned. Your people have called me Lucifer, Satan, and the Devil. You may choose whatever title you find most comfortable." That smirk never left her face, and I got the feeling that she was enjoying my stammering.
"Um, right, okay, my lady. So... this is like, Hell? Hades?"
"A suitable description, at a glance. This is where the dark go after they die. I have been eagerly awaiting the time when you arrived, precious Aela."
I blanched inwardly, but tried to be at least slightly composed in front of the dark goddess or whatever she was. "Um, so, is that waiting in a bad way like 'I want to torture you in a particularly excruciating way' or in a good way like 'I want to make you the leader of my hell-legion'? Um, if I may ask, my lady."
She laughed again and clapped her hands together a few times. "Wonderful, exactly the kind of behavior I was hoping for. Oh I have been awaiting you in a very good way, my delightful new acquisition. As my most devoted and least needy follower, you have nothing to fear in my domain."
I blinked a few times in confusion. "Most devoted? Least needy?"
"You grant me thanks whenever something goes my way. You swear by my name, and have never spoken against me. And you have never once asked me for anything, simply given devotion and praise. Others who invoke my names wish for destruction, chaos, they demand power."
Part 1/2 (Separated for length limit) | "Sooooo where to then?" Larry asked gazing into my eyes. I smiled lightly and run a finger up his arm.
"How about me place then." I smile lightly and giggle. He stands up and puts an arm around me and all I can think is thank you Satan another night and another man this one the best one looking yet. We walk out the cafe and I ask him. "You aren't allergic to do-" My words were cut off as a truck rams into me flinging me back farther than I can even count.
"Jackie!" Larry screamed as he dashed over to me fumbling to get his phone out. I can feel my body get colder and colder and breathing is literally impossible. What feels like seconds or minutes could even be hours I slip away into nothingness. That is until I smelt smoke.
"No no no no, It can't be real this is just a dream or a coma or uh a uh." I think to myself panicking as I disagree with myself as well. I hear a blood curdling scream and I begin to breathe hard and fast. "It can't be Hell... its real!" I curl into a ball as a coldness rises from my spine. I lay there cowering my eyes shut tighter than a steel door. As I lay there crying I hear a door open and clicking against the floor as something got closer to me. It kept getting closer and closer not evening having a set speed. It stopped moving however I could feel its presence and the stench, It smelled of soot and sulfur. I whimpered as I awaited my horrible punishment. For what seemed like centuries finally it moved placing a smooth sheet around my body.
I froze not even breathing as I felt warmth slowly come into my body. Not the pleasant kind like a lodge at a ski resort, more of a primal warmth. I slowly opened my eyes and see a large scaly legs. Slowly looking up I notice it was wearing a dark leather corset carrying a whip with its polished claws poised around the hilt. Its face wasn't beautiful however I had never had seen such a lustful face ever. Crimson eyes scanned my as lips just as red curled into a smile. "Well I thought I would be waiting a bit longer until I had my protege." She said almost like a song. I was tempted right there to kneel before her and kiss her feet, I mean hooves. Instead I cowered under the smooth blanket like a child. She giggled and it lulled me into a deeper sleep. "No need to be scared child,but your fear is correct. You are in Hell. However for how long is up to me and you." I slowly removed the sheet away from me as if by some magic.
"Wh-what do you mean?" I ask shaking.
"Shhh dear its ok I wouldn't dare hit my star pupil." She whispered into my ear as she knelt down and touched my shoulder. I trembled before I gathered the courage to ask.
"Why?"
"Why what?" she replied I saw her tongue move as if she was kissing someone.
"Why am I star pupil? And who are you? And what did I do to deserve hell?! I screamed lastly.
"Easy girl, your my star pupil because you are the only one who wanted to be." I thought of all the times I said hail Satan or Thanks Big L mocking all those idiots who thought there was a big man in the sky. Looks like they were right though. "as for who I am, most would assume I'm Satan after all Hell and all but the Dark lord is far to busy to deal with millions we get, and he has been so much fun with the one you call Hitler. I am Lilith the seductress, and you shall become my first ever student Jackie Hinkle." I slowly digested this information and stood up with the cloth wrapped around me.
"What do you need of me mistress?" I asked defeated
She laughed hard and hugged me tight then pushed me away and stared at me deeply as if I was her next meal. She slowly moved in an kissed me. Instantly I felt a fire go through my body and it could feel it change. The cloth burned away and my naked body glowed as my skin turned red and a dark corset came over that. My hands changed into long petite fingers with claws. My feet slowly bunched up into hooves. And finally I no longer felt God's love.
"Well done dear, you didn't even scream. Maybe you were born for this." She said with a wink then smacked my butt. "Come along dear we have much work to do."
Hi guys one of my first stories here i will make a part 2 if requested. | 2015-08-17T02:07:57 | 2015-08-16T22:35:10 | 145 | 38 |
[WP] You can manipulate random numbers. A century ago, this would have been a joke or a party trick at best. In a world where all modern technology is secured by random numbers, you are the most dangerous super-human on the planet. | When I was younger, twelve, thirteen, I thought that I was crazy. I have a power, you see, and it sounds like hail on an old tin roof, like static ripples crackling out, like ping pong balls turned in a machine. At night, tucked into a never-made bed, alone in my shithole apartment, I personify the sound:
*A girl spins the crankshaft that turns the thousand-and-one balls over. She spins faster, until the cascade looks like falling snow. Numbers flash, streaks of black that read 275, 609, 1000, 4—and on. I know them all.*
Most nights the girl is very pretty. I feel indebted to who her: she was the one who told me that I wasn’t crazy. (I was nineteen, lost in an alcoholic haze, and the gun went *click, click, click.)*
But I digress. At nineteen, I learned I wasn’t crazy. There was no hail, no tin-roof head. What I heard was nothing more than the background hum of a broken world.
*The girl spins the crankshaft faster still. She opens a little door and a ball falls out. The ball reads 743. Somewhere in India, a man steps out onto the street. He does not look where he is going. His thoughts echo with the phone call that has just ended. He is very sad, the phone call has bothered him, perhaps a business partner, perhaps his wife. A little further down the street, a darting cat causes a driver to sharply turn his steering wheel. Bald tires skid, they could move left, they could move right. They move right, towards the distracted man, the tired man, the maybe-decent, maybe-not, certainly-doomed man.*
I wave my hand, and the cat does not dart. Bald wheels still grip the dusty road. The ping pong ball reads 744.
This is an illustration, not a representative sample. Sometimes, when I am dreaming, I forget to change the ball. If science ever discovers me, I would like to assert that I am not responsible for the actions or inactions of my dreams.
What I am responsible for, the reason why I write this small account, is this.
It was a Tuesday night. Happy hour ended a long time ago, but slumped figures still crowded the dive bar, whispering into their cups. Sometimes the bartender answered them; most times, she did not. Outside, cars chuffed and rumbled through a fall of dirty snow. The Tuesday fell in late December, far too close to Christmas, one reason, perhaps, why there were so many people there. It was the kind of bar that had taken no particular notice of the passing seasons since sometime in 1999. The shabby, artificial tree that sparked dangerously in the corner by the bathrooms might have predated even that.
On that night so close to Christmas I established a tradition, just one little corner of the world and I. The thought came to me between one beer and the next, and was implemented quickly. I sat in my favorite, grungy booth, listening to the sound of hail striking my tin roof, the endless static, the pretty girl turning ping pong balls in my head, and I began to fiddle with them, a bit like the man in India that I forgot to save.
*“333,”* the girl read. “*127. 8. 69*.”
I glanced around the bar, and found the slumped shoulders that the numbers came from. They were the end products of four black moods, four weekend-plus benders. One man’s car keys were still in his pocket—I changed a number, and he lost them until tomorrow morning. One man had bought a lottery ticket with his last, hard earned dollar—I changed a number, and gave him enough to pay the rent. One man’s form was about to be lost at the Veteran’s Administration—I changed a number, and bumped him up the list.
And one man, his mood black as the miserable night, his heavy-bearded face nearly lost behind a spreading cloud of empty bottles, had a Saturday Night Special in his pocket. He was going to play a game, and if he made it through he had resolved to change his life. I saw his life, a decades long array of dizzying numerical complexity, all stemming from a moment late tonight or early the next morning: a rented motel room, a bottle of bad whiskey, the Special. I saw his life, all those decades of it that might or might come, and decided they were good.
I changed a number, and the special went *click, click, click*, and gave those years back to him.
This is an illustration, not a representative sample of all my days. But some, yes, some. Hopefully enough.
At twelve, thirteen, I thought that I was crazy. It’s possible that I still am. But science, if you’re reading this, please judge me kindly. I’m not all bad, even the girl in my head agrees.
And when she smiles at you, I swear that you will too.
\--------------------
r/TurningtoWords. Hey guys, it's been a minute. Sorry about that. | Random chance is overrated.
Don't believe me? I suppose you've never looked much into NetSecure. *World's most popular security system*. A constant generation of randomly picked values, changing each second, ensuring your data and access points remain as secure as possibly could be. After all, how could you breach a system that changes encryption *every*. *Single*. *Second*?
Simple. *You can't*. Unless, say, you have the rather uncanny ability to manipulate random chance. Only extends to numbers - I have no idea where a marble will roll when I toss it, but you throw a bucket full of dice, I'll simply *pick* what number will be the result - even if some of the dice have to be lost along the way. And NetSecure? Like logging into my e-mail.
I've even got a bit of a reputation for myself. Well, not myself, not really - officially, there is a mysterious group of hackers and spies who operate in the shadows to do all the fun stuff, agenda unknown. After all, there are arrests here and there, vile individuals brought to justice after they've crashed an economy. I can breach any network on the planet, but to give NetWatch some credit, they do occasionally manage to track my access point. Just a matter of swapping a few files in their database and some sap gets arrested in my stead. Kinda fun.
I've crashed economies, sent planes to the furthest parts of the planet to crash when fuel runs out, engaged in a little bit of political assassination here and there. Why? It's fun. Watching the news is like playing a management game. You know how in games you sometimes just... kill some NPCs, maybe nuke a city to see what happens, and enjoy the chaos?
Yeah.
Still, I know what you're wondering. Such horrific acts, such pointless loss of life, for what, my personal entertainment? Only yesterday, NetWatch and I went on a jolly little adventure ending with a country going into civil war because the wrong files were leaked. *And they weren't even true*! Why? Why would I do that?!
Well, let me put it this way.
Why would **you** do that? | 2022-11-16T12:42:49 | 2022-11-16T12:01:32 | 195 | 115 |
[WP] You recently got yourself a parrot. Turns out it's really good at picking up and imitating human speech. As you come home one night and are just about to go to bed, the bird, out of nowhere, spouts "Hide, and don't come out till he sleeps. It'll be easier then." | The bird was stupidly loyal. David didn't even need a cage for her. When he came home in the evening, he held out his hand, called her name, and she flew down from whatever cabinet or shelf she had perched, docile as could be.
He scratched under her beak---*did birds even have chins?*---and she stretched and crooned happily against his finger.
"Happy to see you you," the parrot said.
Yes, the parrot talked. The words a little garbled and the ending tended to trail into a squawk, but she actually *talked* all the same.
At night, he took her out back while he had his beer and shot the shit with the neighbors, and she always came right back when he called her name. And *didn't* when the neighbors and their kids tried the same trick.
David had never been a bird person, or any kind of animal person actually, but when the widow two streets over had offered him the red bird and told him it was a talker, he hadn't thought twice. Her murdered husband's bird. She couldn't stand to look at it anymore, it was an awful reminder when it talked in the echo of his words. But someone *had* to keep an eye on it. Eventually, if it started stinking up the house, he'd throw it on Craigslist. Or just out a window. But in the weeks since his sudden purchase, he hadn't regretted the deal at all.
There was something about the bird. Her name was Addi. And it wasn't *just* that she could talk or she was friendly --- there was something in her eyes that just screamed intelligent. It was odd, David had heard before about smart animals. The question of animal sentience. Dolphins that were supposed to have their own squeaky language. Gorillas that could sign and care for pets. Elephants and their long memories. Yes, David had heard stories before but he had never paid the issue any real attention.
But Addi, it was impossible to look at her and not *know* that you were looking at something smart. Something that had a personality and ideas and likes and dislikes. A favorite tree in the backyard, another tree out of sight she used to do her business and otherwise avoided. Neighbors she favored and would call down to in fragments of speeches. Neighbors she ignored and made a point to turn her beak up at. Something distinctly *not* animal-like. Something noble.
The widow had grabbed his shoulder and said, "Go with him, Addi." And she had done just that. It had *understood*.
If you had asked him point blank if David considered Addi a person, he would say no, she's obviously not a person.
But she's not too far off either.
If there was one thing that bothered him about Addi, it was that she didn't learn new words. Not that she ever had a shortage of things to say. Disjointed and strange fragments like *it sure is cold cold cold in here* and *don't you get tired of eating seeds all the time* and *if I was a bird, I'd fly far far away.*
*Please please don't.*
*Would you kindly give it your very very best.*
*What till will you be home, dear?*
*Don't forget to brush your teeth.*
*You're so lucky, Addi.*
He'd only owned the parrot a little under a month so she was still surprising him with something new from its vocabulary every day. Still his attempts to get her to mimic *him* weren't working just yet. He had tried prompting: *How's the weather down there?* Old song lyrics: *Para bailar la bamba*. Even odd things to garner laughs: *I remember how awful it used to be when I was a human and couldn't fly*.
But nothing he'd said had stuck so far. But he wasn't impatient. He knew
"You stupid bastard," David thought she had whispered once, while he was turned away, making breakfast one morning.
But that couldn't have been right. David had turned to the bird.
"What was that Addi?" David asked.
And Addi had repeated in her croaky little whisper: "You stupid bastard bastard." And then she repeated it again and again and again.
"Addi," David had said and the bird had stopped mid croak, peering at him.
*Christ, what had been going* on *in that house?* David thought and shuddered. "Never say that again, okay?"
Addi had looked at him for a long moment before flapping her wings and squawking. She nodded her head vigorously. She said: "Happy to see you."
And David smiled. "I'm happy to see you too." And he had turned his attention to his slightly burned eggs.
It was a few nights later that it happened.
Walking from the bathroom, David passed the living room, where Addi slept, and heard her whispering in the dark. It was unusual enough for her to talk by herself, it was a skill she reserved for the company of people---she was bright enough to enjoy their astonishment.
"Hide hide hide," she said into the darkness. "Don't come out till he's asleep."
David's heart was beating very fast.
"It'll be easier then," Addi whispered. "The closet closet. Hide in the closet."
*Home invaders*, David's first thought. *Already in the house*. His instinct screamed to run out the front door. Use his cellphone to call the police. But he rejected the impulse.
It was silly to think burglars would break in and then wait hours while he got home, relaxed, drank and then finally went to sleep before making their bold move to steal---his old tv?
*Yes, please send the police right over. My bird told me there's someone hiding in my closet. Yes, you heard that right.*
David took a deep breath. He wasn't going to do anything silly.
Besides, he thought sadly. There was another possibility.
But he checked the closet in his bedroom all the same. He kicked open the door with a baseball bat gripped in his hands. And there was nothing on the other side but unorganized clothes.
Back in the living room, David turned on the lights and sat in front of Addi.
There was something like dawning comprehension. Maybe it was just that. Maybe it wasn't too bad. Maybe...
"Addi, was there anything else?" he asked the parrot. "After 'hide in the closet'. Can you tell me more?"
The parrot turned its head to look David in the eye. It cocked its head and said: "You have to tie me up up."
"Hit me me. make me bleed."
"Fingers and arms. Have to look like defensive wounds."
"They mustn't think me a suspect."
"I want to be free free free."
And then Addi was silent and David wanted to---well, not cry. But there was something in his eye. He reached out and stroked the parrot's chin. The poor thing, it had heard such awful things that night.
When the widow and her lover had murdered her husband.
David reached over and snapped the bird's neck.
It was too bad. David had really liked the parrot. But the widow had been right. She had wanted it done that night, when they had killed the husband. But he didn't like killing things for no reason. He talked her into letting him watch it. But she was right in the end, it was too smart for its own good.
And worst of all, it was a talker. | A pick-your-own-adventure of sorts.
--------------------
**Main story**
I froze in my tracks, suddenly finding my hearing acuity tuned to an eleven on a scale from one to ten. The only sounds were the occassional scratches of Sandy's feet; even the soft hum of the AC silently slept tonight.
*Did she say what I just thought she said?*
I watched the clock on my wall, as seconds turned to minutes, while minutes felt like eternity, while I waited for her to speak up to confirm my suspicions.
Twenty-three minutes passed, before she finally did. "Okay, you can come out now."
The floorboards creaked as the cabinet below the stairs slowly sweaked open.
-------------------
**Option 1**
While their footsteps sounded soft on the hardwood floor, it spoke magnitudes of who they were -- a small person, maybe a child or a small woman, wearing socks. One by one, their feet plodded softly from the hallway and into the kitchen before...
*Clink!*
The bottles rocked together as I recognized the familiar hum of the refrigerator turning on. As quietly as I could, I pulled on socks onto my own two feet, and tiptoed out onto the stairway balcony, overlooking the first floor and seeing Sandy cozy in her cage. When she looked back up at me, I swear I could see a sly smile cross her beak.
I tiptoed down the steps and peered into the kitchen where I heard the sound. I can't say I wasn't pleasantly surprised to find my little girl in her pajamas, sitting on the floor in the light of the refrigerator, with cookie and cup of milk in hand. For a moment, I did nothing, just watching her enjoy every last bite and awkwardly picking up little crumbs from the floor.
Turning around, I looked Sandy in her eyes, and gave her a warm smile. "Good girl, Sandy," I said. "Good girl."
-------------------
**Option 2**
The soft sounds of thick rubber pressed against the floor, not unlike the sound of car tires in your garage. From only the sound, whoever they were, I knew they did not belong.
I didn't bother putting on socks to mask the sounds of my sticky feet on the hardwood floor -- at this point, I wasn't thinking of anything else but my little girl. I unlocked my side dresser and slowly pulled out my gun.
Peering over the balcony of the stairway, I looked down at Sandy sitting cozily in her metal cage, only to return my gaze with what I suspect was absolute terror. "*I'll deal with you later...*" I mouthed.
Moving as slowly and quietly as I could down the stairs, I kept my gun at the ready. Just as my foot touched the landing, I heard a click and something hard press up against the back of my head.
"You weren't supposed to be awake..." the deep voice said.
Slowly, I raised my hands above my head. In one swift movement, their free hand quickly snatched my gun as the other pointed it at the bird and pulled the trigger. A loud *bang!* resonated in my ears, as I watched the cage explode in a flurry of yellow and green feathers. "Your bird needs to learn some manners."
"What do you want?" I asked, trying my best to keep my voice calm and mask my fear.
"The money. Where's your safe?"
I motioned over to the painting on the wall to my left, showing a young ballerina in a pink tutu. "It's behind there."
"Open it up," he growled, as he lead me over to it, making sure to stay behind me the entire time.
Just as I took the painting down, I heard the worst sound I could hear. "Daddy?"
Her little voice behind both of us gave me a sinking feeling in my gut. "Oh, who's this?" he asked with a smile in his voice.
Without even looking back, I could feel his attention was no longer entirely on me. I quickly ducked and swung one hand up to strike his arm. Just as I had planned, I caught him off-guard and was able to twist the gun away from his hand.
Second thoughts didn't even cross my mind, as I pointed it at his chest and pulled the trigger. My little girl let out a loud scream, but the man immediately collapsed to the floor. He looked up at me with a look I'll never forget, with death in his eyes and blood pooling in his mouth.
"You picked the wrong house, man," I said. "You shouldn't have come here..." | 2017-06-08T14:54:45 | 2017-06-08T14:19:16 | 253 | 10 |
[WP] "Oh shit, you survived it?" your best friend says to you, minutes after the global disappearance of the human race and the emergence of the Others. "What?" you ask, terrified and confused. "Normally, I have to fix it all by myself every cycle", he responds. | A loud high pitched scream ripped my friend Hudson and I right out of our video game and back into the real world. I jumped up from the couch, the sound seemed to come from upstairs where my mother had been cleaning.
"Shit, is it time already. I'm getting slow."
I can hear my friend say from behind me. I barely register the words, as my body froze and my mind filled with fear as another blood-curdling scream could be heard from above. I was certain it was my mother again but before I could even think about moving something grabbed my arm. I turn to see Hudson still sitting on the couch with his arm outstretched.
"This is important Jack, so quickly tell me where does your mother keep her car keys."
The words almost cut me, I had never seen him so serious before. His eyes looked at me with a focus they had never once shown. I could still hear the screams of my mother and the dull chimes of the grandfather clock striking noon. It was all I could do to answer him with a lame,
"They're on the hook, by the front door."
In hearing my response his face started to take on more of a sorrowful expression. He stood up and said letting go of my arm.
"I just want you to know, you were one of the best friends I've ever had. I don't usually allow myself to get attached. I'll miss you, Jack."
As he finished he left my living room at a brisk pace. The house was silent now, except for a dull ticking sound coming from the clock. I tried to snap myself out of it, I told myself I need to move, to see if my mother was okay. That's when I heard two new sounds, the shaking of keys and the front door being opened. Almost immediately I unfroze, just the thought of my best friend abandoning me at a time like this was enough to get me to move. I nearly sprinted to the front door and grabbed his arm. He turned to look at me shocked as if he had seen a ghost but I was too angry to care.
"My mom just screamed like that and you're going to-" but before I could finish he interrupted me.
"Your mother is dead, but the real question here is why aren't you."
At the sound of those words, I let go of him. My anger turned to fear but before I could do or say anything another sound could be heard from upstairs. I turned around behind me to look upstairs and what I saw made my face turn a pale white. A four-legged, dark red, fleshy mass, the size of a large dog was standing at the top of the stairs. Without a face or head, it still felt as if it was staring at me. Then it lept, jumping right down the stairs. Again before I could even think I was being pulled out of my house. Hudson slammed the door and dragged me to my mom's car.
"Get it in, quick! I'll explain on the way."
I stumbled to the passenger's seat and stammered.
"Is - Is that what - you know. Killed... my mom"
He didn't answer immediately, instead of focusing on getting out of my neighborhood. There were no other cars on the streets, except for a few parked in the middle of the road. We passed at least two accidents before he answered.
"Jack, that was your mom. It's... kind of my fault." I opened my mouth wanting to ask more questions but before I could he stopped me and said "Please, just let me explain, and don't interrupt until I'm finished. This may be hard to believe but I'm not actually human. I'm an alien and I came to visit your planet a long time ago. Except I didn't realize I was sick, a basic disease on my planet, but deadly for yours. In your species, it transforms you into those beasts with no sense of what you were before. Now you have to understand I had no intention to spread it to you. I just wanted to observe a new life form, but I was careless. So I landed permanently, I used the technology from my ship to construct a lab. I've been rebuilding your population. At least trying to. However every time, every generation you all always contract the disease. Until now, until you."
​
I haven't written in a while so this was fun. I hope you enjoy and I'm always interested in feedback! :D | I blinked. Time seemed to hang still until I broke the silence after processing what just happened First off, what the fuck?!. Second. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?" "Chill, chill. So i might be what some people call god, sure. But i don't call myself God. I'm David, aren't I? Now, i guess i better give you the sitrep. Whenever you're ready." Several minutes would pass as I tried to pick up the pieces of my shattered worldview. Eventually, I gave up. "Okay then, D. You've got a helluva of a lot of explaining to do". "Right, so humanity, except for you, somehow, is dead. I'm what the universe calls a 'Constant'. I literally can't die or anything, yeah? Well, it's basically my job to fix the cycle each time. I got bored and tried living in my work for once. I was... lonely. Now, when a cycle ends, all the possibilities escape. We'll just refer to them as the others. What are they? Well, they're representations of what COULD have been. As this is technically finite, it usually takes me... well, as your cycle would call them, centuries to sort. With you, though? I think we could cut that time in half. What'dya say mate? Wanna kill some dragons?"
"You bet your fucking ass i do".
This is one of my first few prompt responses! Feedback is appreciated! | 2019-06-10T05:55:35 | 2019-06-10T04:20:18 | 115 | 14 |
[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. | First time ever writing a story really, but it looks fun so let's give it a shot.
"Tell me Bardham...what do you know of the history of us humans?"
The words somehow echoed through into Bardham's mind, despite the fact that he could hardly hear anything at all anymore. His species was renown for their excellent hearing, a fact that the humans were all too fond of exploiting in their use of sonic equipment. He can still remember the screams of his comrades as they fell one by one, the only thing that *could* be heard over the cacophony of noise and lights that assailed their ship. For a moment, the thought wrenches him back to a place of noise and flame.
He's snapped back into reality by the sensation of another piercing noise from his right side. This time the sound of what must be human church bells clanging in chorus. His tormentor was an odd one even amongst those in his trade.
"Now now, Bardham," the human sneered. "We're playing by my rules now. And it's rude not to answer when spoken to."
Bardham took ragged breaths, recovering the sensation in the right side of his head. He could only make out the latter half of the sentence, but Bardham knew that it didn't matter what he said. Torture was assured regardless.
"Judging by the lack of...well, anything, in your eyes I'm going to assume you have no clue what I'm talking about." He said. "I must admit I'm rather surprised an officer like you is so ill-read. Oh well, I suppose it falls to me to...enlighten you."
For the first time since Bardham had been tied to this chair (a human one, rather uncomfortable for a triped being) the small, dark room around him began to shift. The walls became covered in pictures of human history, the music of an Earth composer drifted throughout the room. The human, properly illuminated for the first time, looked positively plain. He could've easily been one of the hundreds of diplomats that Bardham had seen walking through the Great Halls.
"I'm something of a history buff," the human smugly stated. "This is the side of us that creates and builds. The beauty of our art, the melodic constructs of our music, and we've always been this way. But there's something else..."
The walls began to shift, though the music remained. Soon he saw depictions of humanity that resembled more of what Bardham had become to know. He saw thousands of soldiers walking in tandem, he saw cities burning, he saw cruelties which transcended the boundaries of species.
The human turned to Bardham and flashed a sadistic smile. "This...is the side of humanity which we tried oh-so-carefully to conceal." the human spoke in a fervent tone. "We've massacred so many of our own. We've divided our world into east and west, wrought horrors which would make what you've experienced seem like a walk in the park."
The images on the walls shifted once more. This time, the image of a mushroom cloud on every wall. Bardham had seen these before, and in a moment of lucidity spoke for the first time. "Nuclear...detonations? That's impossible even for you filthy humans. Not a single civilization that used such things survived long enough for us to find them. They all killed themselves in the nuclear fire."
The human clapped his hands together, and an all-too-pleased look came to his face. Bardham knew he had made a mistake. This time it was the sound of what may have been the inner workings of a human spacecraft, soft plasma hums turned to roars that pain through his left side. Bardham leaned forward, screaming in agony.
As the pain subsided Bardham sat up once more, and he faintly hear the laughter of his torturer. The man was clearly enjoying himself.
"Oh we tried very, *very* hard to hide that little fact I assure you. The use of nuclear for anything but energy is distinctly outlawed even by the Consortium. The truth is that we had put such things behind us. We genuinely wanted to move on from the failings of our past." the human mumbled. He turned his back to Bardham, the his shadow layered above the holographic cloud. "Trying times, for men like me. Hard to find work for someone of my skillset. War made us *strong* once, Bardham. Any historian will tell you our greatest advancements were born on humanities battlefields."
Bardham thought back to the humans he had seen. They always seemed so...meek. Fragile. They could not run as fast as Tartarians, they were not as strong as Meolians, and they were definitely less intelligent than the floating Ourns. Even his own species was superior in terms of natural healing ability and hearing. But despite that humans found a place in the Consortium as lawyers and diplomats. Professions which valued the pen over the sword.
The walls began to dim, the cloud fading from the walls. As the room returned to normal, the human turned to Bardham once more.
"It was you," the human chuckled. "When your race saw fit to challenge our position in the Consortium. When you began to claim our lands and oust us from the only galactic community we knew, when the food began to run low, when we realized that words were still, even for as far as we had come, not enough."
Now, the walls cut to visions of the war he had known. He saw scores of his brethren brought low by weapons as effective as they were cruel. He saw humans marching in the thousands, not just to battlefields, but to factories and labs. The entire wrath of a species, shown through the lenses of four tiny walls.
"One last question for you, Bardham. Do you know what the first human space carrier was? The one that brought us from our home into the great beyond, the one that laid the groundwork for all that has happened? The culmination of an entire species technology and will?"
Bardham sat silent. He didn't know the answer, but he realized it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. He was against a foe that would throw itself into the very depths of the underworld to give the devil a black eye. His species weren't prepared for a foe like that, and the only thing that would save them now was to try and come to a desperate plea for peace. He would have to tell them what he knew, or else there would be no more hope for salvation.
"It was a battleship, Bardham. The Ares. Our god of war." | Civil wars were never beneficial. They had an uncanny ability to push entire species past the point of no return. To eliminate enough of the breeding population, that they had made members of the Galactic Authority functionally extinct.
The Threlliad admiral paced nervously, wondering if the humans would be able to deliver on their threats. About 1 AU from where he stood on his ship a fleet, a few thousand strong, comprised mostly of human and a few other GA species ships, held a defensive perimeter around his larger fleet. He pondered what he knew about humans.
Currently, the GA consisted of 23 separate entities made up of varying ratios of 16 different species. The only entity that did not have members of its species belonging to any other ruling entity: humans.
Their scientists referred to themselves as Homo sapiens. Much of the origin of biology on their home planet was held in secrecy, reserved only for human eyes. They rarely allowed scientific collaboration involving biology with any other species, and when they did it was never centered on humans or any earth-borne species. Their home planet was shrouded in mystery in spite of the fact that they were the 4th inducted member of the Galactic Authority, no blood had been spilled on their home planet according to non-human records.
This isn’t to say they were a peaceful species, they’d been involved in 16 wars in the last 3 centuries, and had won every single one, 7 of those wars resulted in the extinction of their adversaries. The Galactic Authority was formed 50 years ago in a last ditch attempt to prevent the human threat from wiping out any additional species. The three founding species of the GA, were wary and wished to open diplomatic channels with humans and hoped to excercise political control over them. No one expected the humans to be interested in joining the GA, and even fewer were expecting such shrewd diplomats.
The humans essentially assumed control of the GA within 16 years, and from that point setup favorable trade sanctions that helped their economy grow. While humans were neither physically imposing, nor the most intellectually developed species in the discovered universe, they certainly had a unique blend of the two traits. They weren’t as powerful as the Krulmulians, but their intellect allowed them to win against them due to superior tactics and logistics at almost every turn. And while they weren’t functionally as intelligent as the Xiun, they were quicker to act and able to make ‘snap decisions’ much more effectively. Very little data of their battle techniques or strategy was available, and most of what was widely known about human combat effort comes from voice communication or character based communication.
They seemed to be in the middle ground of the brains vs brawn spectrum and it put them in an interesting place evolutionarily. While most members of the GA belonged to species who had developed significantly more specialized survival techniques for their respective home planets, the human physiology allowed them to easily adapt to a wider range of operating conditions than most species. Sure, they couldn’t communicate telepathically or use telekenesis on the battlefield, and they didn’t have redundancy in vital organs or even a competitive muscle mass to body weight ratio, but they had an interesting ability to adapt and overcome, that had allowed them to win an untold amount of conflict. They appeared unremarkable, but perhaps that was to their advantage: their enemies wouldn’t know what they were truly up against until it was too late.
“Sir, there’s a few thousand incoming projectiles.... with a lot of gamma radiation pouring into our sensors. 2 minutes to potential impacts. What are your orders for the fleet?”
“Charge capacitors,” the admiral growled, “those puny hairless apes aren’t going to get any sanctions through the GA while I have anything to say about it.” | 2019-11-24T16:37:08 | 2019-11-24T14:28:48 | 85 | 54 |
[WP] It turns out demon summoning is only bad when you do it for selfish motives. You discovered this as you, absent any other options, decided to summon one in order to have someone watch over your dog. | *"What would you do with infinite power?"*
My father asked me this once. After 11 years of the harshest possible boarding school. I was back at home for 4 weeks before returning for my final year. To my dying day I regret telling him "make my friends and family happy."
He was enraged beyond belief. He destroyed my mother's treasured gardens. Ruined his own study. Was stopped short of burning the library by Callaghan, our butler, who physically restrained him.
I went back to school early. To this day, I wonder if that was the final trigger for him.
In my final year, every single one of my friends betrayed me. I only learned years later that my father, a Duke, had pressured their houses into it. At the time, I was devastated.
That was the point. When I returned home, in disgrace socially but with the highest honors academically, my father asked again,
​
*"What would you do with infinite power?"*
​
Then he showed me the tome. Taken from Egypt, he said, in the Great War, raided from a Pharaoh's tomb. "A tome from a tomb!" I thought to myself, in a funny homonym that only works in the American accent my father hated so. I didn't take it at all seriously. At first.
There was power in it, I'll grant you that. Enough to see my father's rise from humble lieutenant to Dukedom. Once transcribed and properly analyzed, a clear path to power was writ upon the pages.
One starts with imps. Godawful things, mess up the furniture something fierce. For them, one sacrifices something of value in exchange for something of comparatively greater value, all physically speaking. An arbitrage across realms, if you will. Turns out Hell has a great need of iron and very little of gold. Hence my father, in his infinite wisdom, seating the family manor upon a derelict iron mine, for what to others is worthless, the imps reward.
Eventually one moves up to the Baatazu. These, unlike lesser demons, are always to be constrained with both silver and holy water. To even risk breaking a circle was to invite great displeasure, as I discovered, even though "risking" could be a crime as low as staggering drunkenly. I oft required such imbibements, at this certain time in my life, though never was I so drunk as to present a real danger.
Baatazu deal in more ephemeral things. Memories, love, business arrangements, deals of all sorts. The truly insane might bargain with hair or flesh, but that is how one breaks containment. All deals must be in ironclad language that would make the Queen herself, may she forever rule, proud.
Also the Queen made a most excellent deal when she was young. I digress.
Finally, and this was a purely academic exercise with my father, one can make a deal with the Devil himself. The Devil deals only in souls, our immortal spirits. There is no finer wine in all of creation than spirits; ask Olympus! For those famed gods were but lesser devils, supping upon mortal suffering, constantly prescribing "Hell" and taking for themselves all of a person, calling it "Ambrosia."
I digress.
My father, foolish man that he was, bargained his soul unwisely. Craven man that he was, he bargained my mother's soul also. Thus, they both reside in the symphony of torment that is Hell. Having witnessed it, I can tell you with no exaggeration it is beyond your worst imaginings.
Therefore, as I am at the end of my life, and having found literally no route for my mother to escape, I shall be as Orpheus. I shall descend into the bowels of the damnable cursed realm my idiot father consigned her to, (in exchange for which he brought us no joy in life), and for which I consign him to suffer there forever more, justly, and! I shall bring back my mother, to a kinder place.
However I have not actually committed such grievous sins as to be aligned with that fell place. Therefore, I shall make the deal of all deals with the Devil, one such that he cannot but accept. To you, faithful Elvis, young pup as you are, and in the absence of competent mortal keepers (I mean really, what was that dog watcher thinking!), I shall summon the devil himself to keep you healthy, and well, for all your life, in exchange for both my immortal soul, and my life. I dare say I love you more than mine own father.
\-Sincerely,
Bartholomew Grayson Hervey the 3rd
​
​
\---------------------------------------------------
The ritual went as planned, but one, minor hiccup. Once proffered the terms, the intermediary (the anti-metatron, if you will) immediately sought out his superior, who sought out his, and, well,
I found myself face-to face with the Devil Himself. I'm sure it would have been a high honor for my father, if the last ten years of pitchforks in the ass didn't change his mind.
Despite popular description there were no horns, no tail, no goat's feet. No red skin or flaming eyes. The Devil looked most of all like a used-car salesmen from the worst streets of Glasberg.
**O**h **F**uck, He Can Read My Mind.
The Devil raised an eyebrow.
... Well, fuck it, not like I'm here for him anyway. I raised one in turn - the type of brow-cock my father used on Callaghan, when in his cups.
**"I understand you wish to make a deal, mortal."**
"Yeah that's right, I do. The terms are outlined here." I handed him the parchment. Old fashioned, these folk, parchment and blood all the way.
**"... You would trade your immortal soul, and ALL your remaining life, so that we take care of your dog?"** Hah! I flabbergasted the devil! Icing on the cake, that is! He can't even
**"Do not take me lightly Bartholomew Grayson Tanner. Old fashioned we may be, but the contract is writ and delivered. None can save you now. This is an idle curiosity - never has a man sold so much for so cheap. Even Orpheus asked for safe passage."**
I'll give it to the old man, he has great presentation. Great stage presence. Why, I'd applaud him in the Theatre. Oh, he's narrowing his eyes, best hurry it up. Wait, there was something odd about the name -
**"Even the bravest waste not our time."**
\---"I ask for no safe passage, because your lanes are as cursed as the Tube! I ask for no benefits, because the caveats would bleed me dry to countermand! Send me straight away to Hell, and I'll make my way, but be **damned sure you take care of my dog Elvis as outlined in the contract,** you bastard. Now have done with it!"
The Devil smiled, and when he next spoke, I was ------ | "So for payments do I give my soul or something" a the older man looked over and by relieved he did not summon a demon he did expect a high price only wanted dog sitting for the weekend. Surely she does not want his soul.
"Honestly, I do not want your soul you took your your dog was more than a treasure for me and plus, how sad would he be without his own soul that be a shame" she looked back with a quite shocked facial expression that could be represented on Demon's face.
"So you are not interested in taking soul that relief" a rush of relief when over the moment shock "what happened do you want"
"Absolutely nothing. Your dog was such a beautiful thing just spending time with her was enough" she said with a grin on her face
"I never thought demons have a thing for fluffy and mundane tasks" you said with a surprising manner. Looking over the demon seeming to be more relaxed with her like when he first summoned her
"I do not ever usually get to go out of hell and your transit to is one summoned by people who want me to murder someone for them or ask for great power would honestly do not get me started on those weebs" there was a moment of disgust on her last part of her sentence. He tries not to wander his mind and to such things
"Sounds like a boring job. I am glad I gave you some relief them "trying to change subject as she looked at the demon who seemed very excited.
"Oh I am so thankful we went to the beach. I got to play in the water people looked at me funny but I think before I just had tattoos I am sad that is over now"
seeming to have moved on to lighter things seeming happy
"This trip was rather important for me enough to me to give up something very valuable . I am glad that you could make it happen I just hope she went to the right place "
he had a moment of sorrow and space, but he missed something.
"Yeah, I am sorry about your wife. Sorry about that they will be with her soon "
"Yeah hopefully we are going to be in heaven together " he said a bit more happier knowing that there is more to justice life .
"I can tell you she is not heaven." She spoke bluntly.
The man had a sudden shock and space "you mean she when to hell"
"I can tell you heavens not cracked up to be I make sure to pay her a visit and get her up in the queue" she continues speaking that nonchalant this
"Wait is quite bad? Why did she go to heaven she was a good person" seeming worried and panicked
"Oh yes almost no one ever goes there in the ones that do so stuck up about themselves it is rather embarrassing" seeming to go into the human does not know how things work voice.
"Sure hell is quite demonic but were quite an organised system . Once you pass to your purgatory free to roam ask if your wife has not done too much might be only in it for 20 years or so" seeming to be relieved that he was not too deep things
"Oh that is good. Sounds a lot better than eternal damnation that the local Catholic Church says" seeming a bit more relieved about things
speaking back with a firm strict voice. "Yet the Catholic Church has got it all wrong do not trust them only want money and all of them come down to hell and maybe spend a few thousand years those quite crazy"
"you know what can you send the message to my wife that would be nice"seeming curious at the question wondering the price
She looked back with a big grin at the man "I can certainly do that for a price"
"oh what price" he said nervously
"A whole week with your beautiful border collie" | 2022-11-09T05:21:54 | 2022-11-09T04:06:32 | 516 | 23 |
[WP] You have just died. The Good News is that there is an afterlife. The Bad News is that it isn't Heaven. Or Hell. Or Purgatory. And you aren't a Ghost. In fact, the afterlife is something that no sane human being would ever predict, and has most likely never been written down.
Go balls to the wall crazy with this. Think of the most outlandish afterlife your brain can muster. Thanks and have fun! | .**Too Many Gods**
Everything hurt. All of my joints ached. My gut slowly writhed with a with fiery pain. It hurt to breathe. I pressed the button for the on demand, automatic pain medication, in vain. I had maxed out. No more available unless I waited or called a nurse to ask for more.
I was tired. It was time.
I looked around the crowded hospital room. My daughters were crying and could not hold my gaze.Their husbands stoically looked in my eyes, nodded and then stared at the floor.
I turned my head And said to my wife, ''I love you..."
Pain slammed my heart with the impact of a frieght train.
And, then, I closed my eyes and died.
***
I took a breath and it didn't hurt.
I felt better than I had in years.
I was also standing when a moment ago I was lying down.
Thinking that this was a final hallucination before my brain shut down forever, I opened my eyes expecting to catch a last qlimpse of my wife.
I was disappointed. I was standing in what appeared to be an interrogation room. A man in a black suit, white shirt and black tie sat in a chair across from me at a table. His hair was dark and his beard was flecked with gray. A letter size folder of papers sat on the table to his right,
"Have a seat," He said smiling and indicating the chair in front of me. "This might take a while."
"What might take a while?''
"Orientation." He opened the folder and selected the first sheet in the file. He slid across the table. "Is all the information here correct?"
I sat down to read the sheet of paper without touching it. The metal seat was cold. I was wearing the paisley gown from the hospital and the laminated band was still on my wrist. "If I'm dead shouldn't I be wearing a robe?"
"If that's what you want." He said and snapped his fingers. I was wearing robe. "Or, if you would like something a little more comfortable." He snapped his fingers again and I was wearing my favorite hush puppies, jeans and a long sleeved T-shirt. It was a faux Star Fleet uniform T-shirt. In red.
"Okay. Do you mind explaining what is going on and how you did that?"
"All your questions will be answered is a moment, please verify that the information we have is correct."
I read the sheet in front of me. It was standard identification information; full name, date of birth, city, county, or hospital, mother's full name, etc.
"Yes, it's correct. Am I really dead?"
"Yes,"He said "You are."
"Then, why, what is all this?"
"Well, it's pretty simple really. You are experiencing what you expect to experience."
"So, if I expected Saint Peter, I'd be standing at the Pearly Gates?"
"Yes, or burning in a lake of fire."
"Seriously? That seems to be a major bait and switch."
"Well, that is the biggest drawback to those types of belief systems. The slightest smidgen of doubt that you are worthy and it's no reward for you."
Suddenly, I felt very cold and nauseated. "And if you were and atheist and didn't believe in an afterlife?"
"What do you think happens?"
"Out like a light bulb and then nothingness?"
"Really?"
I nodded.
"Lucky for you that the mind can reach that conclusion rationally and yet still reject it,''
"So, what you are saying is that this is the result of a smidgen of doubt?" I said rapping my knuckleson the table,
"Yep. Crazy isn't it? A smidgen of doubt and you can do anything."
"What about everyone in Hell?
"If they want to leave and someone is willing to guide them, they can get out."
''I'd like to do that."
"Sure thing. We're finished here. Wanna go on a raid with my buddies? Jehovah's gonna really be pissed off."
"Uh, yeah. Wait, why is Jehovah gonna be pissed off and is it anything I should be afraid of?"
"He always gets snippy when he doesn't sucker a new one with Pascal's wager. And, it's adding insult to injury when the first thing they do is help out on a prison break."
"But should I be worried about Him retaliating?"
"Naah, no worries. You are a God now, just like him and everyone else who dies."
 
 
***
 
*Edit: Thanks for all of the positive comments.*
| I enjoyed talking to mike, even if his sense of humour was bad he took it all in stride which helped.
-Yeah, the whole thing kinda sucks, he said. It really soured me on life.
I laughed weakly, no one else did. You had to know that mike was a lemon to truly get how bad that joke was.
Turns out that when you died you became a plant, no particular logic seemed to dictate which plant. For instance I was a leek. I had never even seen a leek in my lifetime.
Most people just went insane and screamed incoherently if you pinged them. Yeah, you could “talk” to other plants provided they wanted to talk to you and you were within a few meters of them.
Lemon Mike was only the second person that I had been able to have a reasonable conversation with. The last one had been a carrot back at the supermarket. Turned out he’d been a doctor who’d murdered his whole family before hanging himself. He found the whole thing hilarious since in he’d been a vegan in his previous life.
I don’t know what to expect next, or even if there is a next. I’d like to be a tree if it’s plants again, otherwise nothing would be best.
As I get scooped from the counter I feel the heat of the boiling water as various people and I get dumped unceremoniously in the big pot. I shut my mind to the screams of all the ingredients, my last sensation is of the fly buzzing over the soup… did it just wink at me? | 2015-10-18T21:57:59 | 2015-10-18T20:39:44 | 488 | 104 |
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