prompt stringlengths 20 5.8k | chosen_story stringlengths 226 10k | rejected_story stringlengths 227 9.43k | chosen_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55 2022-12-31 14:34:19 | rejected_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36 2022-12-31 12:20:41 | chosen_upvotes int64 14 23.1k | rejected_upvotes int64 10 4.26k |
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[WP]everyone has a sigil on their body that represents powers that were bestowed onto humanity after the rapture of the Milky Way. The bullies at school always pick on you because you never used your power, but you’ve had enough. Now they are going to find out why your sigil is a plain old circle | As his back bounced off the unforgiving steel of his own locker Tomas contemplated what imagined slight he caused this time. It was always the same. Same oblivious parents. Same uncaring teachers. Same Jacob Meech.
The circle sigil on the back of his right hand a mocking symbol of his overall life so far.
He considered staying down. Sometimes Jacob lost interest if he did. Staring at the back of his hand a spark of anger ignited inside him, quickly become an inferno of acidic rage. Rising to his feet he stared down his bully with so much malice; so much raw hatred that it made the invulnerable quarterback pause.
"Enough." Tomas spat raising his right hand at the other boy and his sigil finally began glowing.
Snapping his fingers the glow brightens them dims, the sigil shifting to the number twenty-four.
"Twenty-four hours." He sneered his voice rising to address the other kids who had gathered to watch him get bullied.
"I have locked away your powers for twenty-four hours. After the allotted time they will return to you." Tomas picked up his bag and started to walk out of the ring of students, pausing next to Jacob, a stunned look still on his bullies face.
"You wanted to see my power so bad? Now you have. I like to call it a black hole. But it's really more like a prison. For sigils that is. Touch me again and it'll be twenty-four years"
The first bell rang as Tomas walked away. | He was waiting for me just like always two lockers down, on the left of the water fountain waiting for his prey to show up. He would make his demands for homework. I wouldn’t give him or money I didn’t have, and then he would activate his sigil. A circle broken into quarters with a crosshair that intersects the ring in the cardinal directions would flare with a dark purple, and I would feel the weight of the world crash onto my shoulders, driving me to the ground. I would cough and sputter until I agreed to give him what he wanted.
It was the same thing every day after the first gym class of the year. I took my shirt off and displayed my sigil carved in between my shoulder blades. A simple circle, no beginning or ends, lay there with no indication of the godlike powers others had. Some could tear holes in reality and jump to a location thousands of miles away, others could produce, and control flames each one of these fantastic powers had intricate symbols that notated their ability. I sighed as I approached my locker, let the abuse begin.
He pushed off the wall and walked confidently to the block my way, “Hey John, did you manage that algebra homework?”
“Yes. I did. It was pretty easy if you paid attention in class,” I grinned at him as the giant gears in his mind started to turn. His face lost his smile into a focused look as he processed my comment. Then his anger bared down on me. Taking physical form, turning my arms to lead, my torso squeezing, making it hard to breathe, that the blood rushed from my head. The gravity acting on me was increasing by the movement, dropping me to one knee than to the floor as the force continued to bear down on me, cracking my spine and grinding my bones against each other. As my vision started to fade to pinpoints of color, the unending weight eased. I coughed and spat out thick red strands, this was the farthest he had ever gone, I’m no doctor, but I knew I’d spend some time in the hospital. This had to end.
I reached out and gathered my memories, each pinprick of pain every unstable breath. The feeling of having the life crushed out of me. My senses were hammering back to life as blood and oxygen raced to my brain just enough to tell he was digging through my bag. I reached out and grabbed his ankle, and my sigil flared for the first time in years the white light filling the hall enveloping everything
He was waiting for me just like always two lockers down, on the left of the water fountain waiting for his prey to show up. He would make his demands for homework. I wouldn’t give him or money I didn’t have, and then he would activate his sigil crushing me.
‘But He was me. I looked down; my sigil was gone. I… I think I am John!’ the unexplainable happens. He was now me.
“Hey, John, did you manage that algebra homework.”
‘No, no, this isn’t right. Let me move DAMN IT!’ He struggled to move the body he was now in, but it would do him no good.
“Yes. I did. It was pretty easy if you paid attention in class.”
The pain started slowly as it had for me increasing gradually to an unimaginable crushing force threatening to break my body. And just as the effect receded and an end to the feelings of pain and helplessness, he approached the hall. There we were standing where he always did next to the water fountain.
A circle has no beginning and no end, and it loops around itself endlessly just like he would. To be honest, I felt terrible; I had no way of stopping it now that I had activated my sigil. No escape mechanism to save him from his attack on me. I justified telling myself that he had attacked me. He was going to kill me over homework. But dragging the razor over my forearm, I knew the truth. No matter how awful someone was, they didn’t deserve that. Looking down at the new bleeding cut that would eventually scar over, I shook my head. Three people were now like this, and there was no one to blame but me. | 2020-02-26T07:36:26 | 2020-02-26T07:25:14 | 72 | 51 |
[WP] Humans have always been feared throughout the universe for surviving in the harshest environments, drinking and eating highly poisonous drinks and foods as well as taming and even domesticating dangerous beasts. One applies for a position at your company. | "A human!?!"
I looked at Jasper in disbelief. He didn't respond so I prompted him again:
"A human wants to work for US?"
Jasper merely nodded. His tail was uncharacteristically still as he waited for my response.
"Tell me more about the applicant"
Jasper replied "James is quite short, for a human, and not as coordinated as most of their kind, but has demonstrated formidable skill in taming multiple monstrous felines, in addition to the hardiness to survive the deadliest poisons known to our species. Apparently, we share a common goal. He too, would like to raid the Palace of Limitless Food, but has trouble getting past the Guardians on his own."
I thought about it. I knew James well. I had thought all the humans worked together to guard the Palace... having one on our side (n insider at that!) would virtually guarantee success, even if he was the smallest and newest human in our domain. We'd come close to success in our last couple of raid attempts, but the guardians always noticed before we were able to finish the job.
The Guardians were clearly very protective of James, and he could easily run interference for us while we did our work. My tail began to wag, and I let out a triumphant bark. It would be hard to summon the audacity to give orders to one of the Masters, but the opportunity was too good to pass up.
"Jasper, let's go welcome our company's third member."
"Sure thing, Spot!" Jasper answered, before bounding off to find the toddler. | “So… Mr. Blake! You are an ex-SIAF; am I right?”
“Exactly, but you can call me Jim.”
The man sat down cautiously with a slow lunge towards the red chair. On his chest stood the initials SIAF, Specialised Interplanetary Attack Force. The one and only death squad, which persecuted all sorts of revolutionaries or belligerents.
Humans had by now occupied the entire Quartile system: the planetary system right next to their own. War had taken us by surprise as our still inexpert species was flourishing in the gardens of Adan. The metallic clashing of ships, and boisterous charges of guns had infiltrated our minds deeply.
“And tell me… Jim: why are you applying for this job?” I guardedly questioned the human. He raised his eyebrow and let his jaw drop.
“I… actually don’t know. After being expelled from the army, I guessed I needed a new thrill,” he crossed his legs and shook his head with compliance, “and this friend of mine told me you pay well for those beasts’ hearts.”
“Absolutely. And we know that humans like you are made exactly to be ruthless.” I tried complimenting the man, not knowing if he would have appreciated.
“Sure, can be. But I prefer a more methodical approach.”
“What experience do you have in your sack Jim? Tell us why we should take you.”
The filthy human started laughing in a snort. His rowdy voice explained in great detail his landing on Ärogon, our neighbouring planet.
“And before I realised, I had snapped his neck!” he then looks at me intensely. He gets closer and closer. Grabs my chin, and… “boo!”
I flounce backwards and tip my chair over.
“Wow, so stories are true about you Saravellans, cowards and pussies.” He then stood up, and walked over to where my head laid. “You better give me the job, lewd scumbag.” Jim turns around, and leaves, strolling down the corridor. Just before passing the door, I hear him spit on the ground.
Just another ordinary day on Saravella.
It had been by now 14 years since the great subjugation. We Saravellans had been the Humans’ personal slaves by too long. The Great Terra Empire had become totally apolitical. Simply put, the emperor ruled over everyone. Communism wasn’t a thing, neither was fascism.
You might be asking how I know about these things. I was still as young as 11 when the humans appeared out of nowhere. The war lasted about a year. So there was plenty of time for them to indoctrinate us with their great history of the dozens of world wars and nuclear wars. Pitiful, if you may ask me. Such genius, such strength, gone into interplanetary colonisation.
That night I woke up early to reach my job on time: thus sprinting into the briefing room. It was full; full of humans, Ärogonians and various other species I didn’t even know about.
“Hey old friend” I heard a voice from behind me exclaim: it was Jim Blake. That son of a Börogot. No need to explain that, or?
“I had so much fun yesterday,” he shouted as he punched me in the arm, “hopefully you won’t disappoint me today.” He had a gun tucked in this boot and wielded a black t-shirt with on it written: “Suck my b\*\*ls”.
“Jim, I thought the email sent to you was clear: you are supposed to bring a heavy coat with you. The biome this beast is found in is stuck at -50 degrees.”
“Hey pussy. I’m no weak arse like you, I’m a human. The supreme species remember?” He stomped on my foot with his boots. “Now dig your face up you’re a\*s and never speak to me again. Understood?”
“Understood.” I said in a soft whisper whilst a tear split my face in half.
“You see? Things can go just right. I knew you were a fun one Khel.”
​
(This is of course unfinished. Thank you for the bright prompt. Have a good rest of your day! Cheers!) | 2020-06-15T20:30:14 | 2020-06-15T16:27:37 | 509 | 89 |
[WP] Humans have always been feared throughout the universe for surviving in the harshest environments, drinking and eating highly poisonous drinks and foods as well as taming and even domesticating dangerous beasts. One applies for a position at your company. | These humans...
Weird? Yes.
Dangerous? Yes.
Expensive? YES.
Worthwhile? As they say, A BILLION TIMES YES!
There was this one time that our mercenary company had to deal with a Omega-Omega. World ending stuff.
Their behavior before this, or any mission, really, has always been - Odd.
Treating the whole thing like it's a game.
Throwing lethal amounts of poison around like they want to die (keep forgetting that they *can't* die from 'mere alcohol', as they call it.).
We head to the outer reaches of the Dead Zone, and they *finally* get their heads on their shoulders (I'm catching the human, as they say... *sigh*).
Nearly lose half of my quad to Alpha - Gammas (Their blood is *literal acid*, able to melt *anything*), but those humans... Those that say humans are useless, have never been in a straight-up lethal, no-holding-back, all-out fight with one.
Anyway, we all get to the Source, where the humans *insist* in being the first ones down there.
Stupid? Yeah
Loyal? Hell yeah.
Worth the trillions we pay for each hour we use a team?
Seeing the O - O get dragged to the surface a mere five minutes after they left, tells me that yeah, it's all worth it.
Now, if only they would *stop* playing with the O - O and calling it 'Fido'... | “So… Mr. Blake! You are an ex-SIAF; am I right?”
“Exactly, but you can call me Jim.”
The man sat down cautiously with a slow lunge towards the red chair. On his chest stood the initials SIAF, Specialised Interplanetary Attack Force. The one and only death squad, which persecuted all sorts of revolutionaries or belligerents.
Humans had by now occupied the entire Quartile system: the planetary system right next to their own. War had taken us by surprise as our still inexpert species was flourishing in the gardens of Adan. The metallic clashing of ships, and boisterous charges of guns had infiltrated our minds deeply.
“And tell me… Jim: why are you applying for this job?” I guardedly questioned the human. He raised his eyebrow and let his jaw drop.
“I… actually don’t know. After being expelled from the army, I guessed I needed a new thrill,” he crossed his legs and shook his head with compliance, “and this friend of mine told me you pay well for those beasts’ hearts.”
“Absolutely. And we know that humans like you are made exactly to be ruthless.” I tried complimenting the man, not knowing if he would have appreciated.
“Sure, can be. But I prefer a more methodical approach.”
“What experience do you have in your sack Jim? Tell us why we should take you.”
The filthy human started laughing in a snort. His rowdy voice explained in great detail his landing on Ärogon, our neighbouring planet.
“And before I realised, I had snapped his neck!” he then looks at me intensely. He gets closer and closer. Grabs my chin, and… “boo!”
I flounce backwards and tip my chair over.
“Wow, so stories are true about you Saravellans, cowards and pussies.” He then stood up, and walked over to where my head laid. “You better give me the job, lewd scumbag.” Jim turns around, and leaves, strolling down the corridor. Just before passing the door, I hear him spit on the ground.
Just another ordinary day on Saravella.
It had been by now 14 years since the great subjugation. We Saravellans had been the Humans’ personal slaves by too long. The Great Terra Empire had become totally apolitical. Simply put, the emperor ruled over everyone. Communism wasn’t a thing, neither was fascism.
You might be asking how I know about these things. I was still as young as 11 when the humans appeared out of nowhere. The war lasted about a year. So there was plenty of time for them to indoctrinate us with their great history of the dozens of world wars and nuclear wars. Pitiful, if you may ask me. Such genius, such strength, gone into interplanetary colonisation.
That night I woke up early to reach my job on time: thus sprinting into the briefing room. It was full; full of humans, Ärogonians and various other species I didn’t even know about.
“Hey old friend” I heard a voice from behind me exclaim: it was Jim Blake. That son of a Börogot. No need to explain that, or?
“I had so much fun yesterday,” he shouted as he punched me in the arm, “hopefully you won’t disappoint me today.” He had a gun tucked in this boot and wielded a black t-shirt with on it written: “Suck my b\*\*ls”.
“Jim, I thought the email sent to you was clear: you are supposed to bring a heavy coat with you. The biome this beast is found in is stuck at -50 degrees.”
“Hey pussy. I’m no weak arse like you, I’m a human. The supreme species remember?” He stomped on my foot with his boots. “Now dig your face up you’re a\*s and never speak to me again. Understood?”
“Understood.” I said in a soft whisper whilst a tear split my face in half.
“You see? Things can go just right. I knew you were a fun one Khel.”
​
(This is of course unfinished. Thank you for the bright prompt. Have a good rest of your day! Cheers!) | 2020-06-15T19:48:03 | 2020-06-15T16:27:37 | 315 | 89 |
[WP] A super villain that continuously wins legal cases against the heroes because technically what they are doing, while horrifyingly bad, is actually legal. | "Your honor, surely you must be joking!"
"Mr. Goody Two Shoes, I will not be adressed like this in my courtroom."
"Apologies your honor, but Professor Evil stole the water supply for an entire city...!"
"Bought the rights to the aquifer, your honor," the opposing counsel interjected.
"He exploited and ruined the lives of thousands of children...!"
"Outsourced production to China, your honor."
"Robbed millions of people of their life savings...!"
"Set up an, albeit high-risk, investment scheme. They should have read the fine print."
"And gathered the private data of millions of Americans!"
"As a contractor for the American government. Your honor, although Mr. Goody Two Shoes here claims to be a 'super' hero, he has done nothing but spread malicious rumours about my client. We will pursue a libel and defamation case against this flaunter of the law!"
"Sounds reasonable," the judge concluded, "see you again tomorrow." | We open the case of Oker vs. Wayne
The charge is criminal trespassing, assault and theft. Mr. Wayne plead not guilty.
Mr. Wayne has chosen to represent himself, while Mr. Oker is represented by his attorney Mr. Black.
W: So I entered the Joker's lair.
B: Objection, my client's dwelling should not be classified in such a derogatory term nor should he be referred to by a nickname, either Jay or Oker will do.
J: Sustained
W: As I was trying to say I entered the Oker's dwelling with a good reason. He had kidnapped. This elderly lady Ms. Rose
B: Objection. The accused is claiming kidnapping while I refer you to exhibit C, which shows clearly my client is the legal guardian of Ms. Rose
J: Sustained
W: But he took her out of the retirement home in the middle of the night and claimed all her assets which he sold for pennies.
B: Objection, irrelevant
J: let's see where this is heading. So you claim you were not trespassing but just trying to help this elderly lady.
W: Exactly, so as I entered the "dwelling" I'm immediately confronted with two of Mr. Oker's henchmen. I manage to subdue them. And move on in the house. I broke open the door to where I suspected he held Ms. Rose captive, but all I could find was a map and entry key. I took it to further my quest.
J: So if you confess to the crime, why did you plead not guilty?
W: you don't understand I'm the hero here, he's the villain.
J: I'm sorry I'm not going to go into your little superhero fantasy here. I'm going to find you guilty on all accounts and issue a restraining order.
Next up the case of Oscorp industries vs. Parker.
Mr. Parker will be representing himself, while Oscorp is represented by Mr. Black. Mr. Parker plead not guilty to the charges of kidnapping, destruction of property, defamation and copyright infringement.
P: Copyright infringement, I can't even.
J: Would you explain to the accused
B: I point to Exhibit A, which shows clearly a picture of the accused fighting in a wrestling costume that was designed for wrestling in WWIA, a 100% owned subsidiary of Oscorp Industries. The accused modified it without permission and then parades the city doing all sorts of harm, putting WWIA to shame and by extension Oscorp industries.
In one such occasion, the accused interrupted a testflight of a new type of drone protoype under development for the US military. The damage to the protoype alone is over 1 million dollars. Finally the accused also kidnapped the client's girlfriend Ms. Watson from the house of my client. They had been engaging in a fantasy play where he locked her in a confined space, with her consent of course, when the accused kidnapped her.
P: That's not true, she was captured. If she was here she could prove it.
J: Is the witness here?
B: Unfortunately she is not. After suffering through the whole kidnapping ordeal, she is currently residing in one of my client's properties until this dangerous individual is locked away.
P: This is ridiculous, I'm spiderman, look!
J: Security take him away immediately! Please state for the record that the clearly deranged defendant stretched out his hand filled with a white-greyish goop, claiming to be half spider.
Since the defendant has chosen to represent himself, there is no point in mediation with a deranged individual. I'll find him guilty on all accounts and confine him to a guarded mental facility.
​
(Note: I did not research any of the legal stuff, so please overlook the mistakes) | 2020-09-02T21:14:46 | 2020-09-02T20:11:24 | 138 | 96 |
[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. | "Dude! Are you serious?!" The demon asked, it's feathers flapped around as it shook it's head. "I"ve never seen a mortal soo stupid..."
"Would you accept it?" I asked.
"Yes, technically yes, but I just want to know something."
"What?"
"How in gods name did you found someone this stupid?"
"School."
"What?!"
The demon stared at me in disbelief.
"Just give it to me. What do you want?" The demon asked.
"Just take this soul and..."
***
The school bully just left the building when he heard a high-pitched voice. As he turned his head, he saw the weirdest thing.
The pigeon headed man, wearing an orange costume, angrily waving a lawnmover. The bully looked at it in a shock, before he asked:
"Bro, what are you doing?"
"Listen man" The demonic figure approched him and slapped him across the face. "I know things are really messed up at home, but you need to stop! They are your classmates, not your toys!"
The bully backed away from it, but the demon followed him.
"I know you are scared" the demon said. "But it's not an excuse. The kids you bullied are suffering too. Did their suffering ease yours?"
The bully said nothing. The demon looked down at the orange costume, then looked at the boy.
"I heard that our mother is worse than she was ever before. I am so sorry."
"Why do you care?! You left" The bully yelled.
"I had to, Jonathan!" The demon yelled back. "I found a job, so I can take care of you, and you act like this? Please have some respect for me and help me get out of this costume! Please!"
"Okay" Jonathan said after a short pause. "But why are you a demon?"
"I went to America, and could not afford healthcare. It's a long story, okay?"
"Tom, I missed you" The boy cried out. "I am so happy to meet you again!"
"I missed you too. I only found you because you were such a bully someone tried to sell your soul to the devil..."
"Who?"
"It's a secret."
"Did you accept my soul?"
"I have it, don't worry."
"And what did he ask for?"
"To prank you."
"And what will you do?"
"I will play the biggest prank on you, you will never forget it."
"What will you do?" Asked the ex-bully. The demon threw the landmover into the bushes.
"I will teach you some f*cking manners!" | 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!" | 2021-03-27T02:15:46 | 2021-03-27T01:43:59 | 29 | 13 |
[WP] The private investigator was stumped. The scene of the murder was messy. Not in the gory sense, but it was littered with tons and tons of contradictory evidence. Thousands upon thousands of individual leads and not one connects with another. | Everyone knew the minivac man. Homeless, dressed in layers and layers old ratty clothing, with big yellow dishwashing gloves on his hands. He moved slow, not out of frailty, but because he was watching where he put his feet, always giving each step due consideration. Stepping over cracks, stepping around discarded gum or litter. Slowly, carefully, he'd make his way.
Strapped to his back he carried his namesake. But this wasn't some little dust buster, oh no, it was a Orca V22 turbo GXL-MAX limited edition. It cost more than a thousand dollars and boasted a 750 watt brushless electric motor. That's about equal to one horsepower. He liked to think of it that way, imagining that the screaming electric engine was somehow the spirit of a racing stallion leashed into the slim plastic casing.
He had three spare lithium batteries, though he rarely needed them. The orca was a serious machine and it worked fast.
Whenever he got on the bus, it was the same old routine. He'd vacuum the aisle as he made his way, carefully, carefully, to his seat. Then he'd vacuum the seat, first the cushion, then the back, then the myriad nooks and crannies. He was fast and efficient, no wasted movement.
Sometimes people would stare, but most people knew the minivac man by now. Harmless old man, they would say. So sad that he can't get the help he needs with his mental illness. OCD for sure, he'd hear them whisper. Sometimes people would give him their change from the bus fare. Hed always smile, thank them kindly, and then squirt some isopropyl alcohol from a soap dispenser buckled to his hip to thoroughly sanitize the coins before secreting them away in his little fanny pack.
On Tuesdays and Fridays he would take out a vac-sealed bag and empty the contents of the vacuum into it, sealing it closed and compressing the bag down until it was almost flat.
Every other Wednesday was his killing day. Sometimes he'd choose some swanky Wall Street executive making his way to his car after a late night working. Sometimes he'd choose another homeless bum like him. Or maybe just one of those nasty little boys who sell drugs on the street corners. They're all equally guilty, he knew. They deserved just what they got.
And once his grisly work was done he'd empty out the contents of his cartridge bag, scattering hair, skin flakes, and who knew what else all over the crime scene.
One time he hung out near a police station and listened to the detectives talk to each other. The mayor was apparently breathing down their necks. They'd made dozens of arrests, linked the killings to scores of people, but they could never manage a conviction, not when each DNA test matches so many at once.
They didn't pay the minivac man any mind as he tottered past them. One of them even gave him a cup of fresh coffee, boiling hot of course.
"You take care now." Said the detective. "It's gonna be a cold one."
The minivac man said nothing, just nodded and smiled before slowly, slowly making his way down the road, always watching carefully just where he put his feet. | I was no ordinary investigator, I made my reputation from thin air as the best homicide detective that Vancouver has ever seen.
I took the liberty of solving hundreds of cold cases, and I did so expecting nothing in return except the glory of having finally brought the guilty criminal to justice.
Yet when this case was plopped on my desk, I thought it would be the easiest case I ever solved.
The first lead I discovered seemed cut and dry, her husband.. She apparently got caught cheating on him after all.
He had the biggest motive, and had the most access to her, yet that couldn't possibly make sense when I found out the affair partner bought a gun, the same kind of gun that was used to murder her.. The husband had no such weapons that I could discover unless he was intelligent enough to illegally buy the same weapon that the affair partner had, knew what gun he had, and threw away the evidence when the search warrant was enacted.
When I arrested and brought the affair partner to interrogation though, he swore on his life that he had nothing to do with it.
"I will get a lawyer, polygraph test me all you like, I would have never done this to Sarah!" he yelled.
Very well I thought, then another possible lead came up, finger prints at the crime scene of five different people. One being her sister, another her brother, one being her boss, and two others that seem to have no connection to the victim whatsoever.
"this is the most confusing case I've ever had.." I thought to myself, as I pondered deeply on how I will be able to figure out who did it.
I interrogate each lead one by one, all of them of course swearing their innocence.. Only the victims brother has a reliable alibi though, and one of the people with no connection to the victim has a alibi as well.
I have nearly given up on this case, how can I possibly come to a clear conclusion of who was responsible for the girls murder.. that was until a witness came foward..
She was a middle aged girl, brown hair, green eyes, wearing a black coat, and jeans. She knocked on the door to my private investigator building.
"Come in!" I yell out.
She enters the building, and pulls up the chair in front of my desk and sits in front of me.
"what brings you to all seeing eye investigation?" I ask the lady.
"I... saw the murder take place, I didn't want to say anything out of fear of anything happening to me, yet I know I have to because its the right thing to do." Says the brown haired lady, as she fidgets her leg with anxiety.
I take out a giant note pad, and a pen, and then reply, "I'm really glad you came foward, tons of leads on this case without much to go off of, do you have any idea what the murderer looks like?"
"He was very tall probably 6'4, he had a snake tattoo on his arm, and he was lanky, not very muscular or fat." she continues.
"hmm.. doesn't seem to match any possible lead I have so far.." I say to her, as I write this information down.
"did you get a good look at his face? Can you describe that so I can draw it out?" I continue.
" Unforneatly it was very dark, he was white though, thin trimmed beard, and that's all I could gather." She retorts.
"Very well, give me your number, and I will give you my card, if you get any more information, please let me know." I tell the girl, as I hand her my card, and she writes down her number on a post-it note and hands it over to me.
I'm unable to do much with the lead she gave me, and nearly a week goes by when she calls me.
".. I think I see that man again, he's right in front of me.." She says on the phone with panic in her voice, yet she tries to keep the volume of her voice down like a whisper.
"Tell me the address and I will be right over there!" I reply frantically.
She quietly whispers me the address, and I grab my gun, and get in my car and ride all the way over there.
"You stupid bitch! I will kill you!" I hear a tall figure yelling, as he appears to be pushing down and hitting the girl that gave me the lead.
I immediately exit my car, and fire shots into the man, he seems to fall to the ground.
I make my way over to the girl, and ask her, "are you okay?"
"..yes I'm fine, thanks for saving me.." she says with calmness in her voice.
Suddenly, I hear gun shots, four of them.. I got shot four times...
"you really are dumb aren't you.." says some masked figure that is now standing over me.
The 6'4 man that I shot now gets up, and takes off his coat, it appears he was wearing a bullet proof vest, the girl also gets up and seems unharmed and unphased..
"this whole entire thing was all a ruse, to finally put a stop to you.. after you busted my father for being a hitman I wanted to get real revenge on you, what better way to make you suffer then give you an unsolvable case, then lure you and murder you after.." The masked figure says, as he takes off his mask and reveals himself to be the son of Markus Banks, the mafia hitman I busted years ago.
I'm gargling blood, and gasping for air, I have no possible way to fight back...
"To answer your question, it was the husband that wanted her dead, he was just smart enough to call us so we could frame a bunch of people for it, and then kill you after.." the man says grinning at me.
He points his gun at my head, then pulls the trigger. Everything fades to black, as I no longer care about the injustice of this all. | 2022-09-05T09:14:46 | 2022-09-05T07:39:38 | 432 | 56 |
[WP] Someone laughs, and someone cries. They are looking at the same thing, at the same time. | He laughed as the awkward young teenager stumbled down the road, each step twisted yet methodical. He laughed at the unfortunate looking boy with his gangly limbs, with acne dappled skin, and with his floppy brown hair. He laughed as the boy smiled from ear to ear, revealing crooked teeth and braces, his eyes alight with an almost childlike joy.
But she? She cried tears of joy as her son finally took his first steps. | The Boy was raised to be an honest, hard-working child. The Father was neither of those things, but The Boy still loved him dearly. He tried to instil a sense of morals, of right and wrong in the boy, and in this one thing he succeeded. Destitution, however, makes bedfellows equally curious and sad. The Father fell amongst some indiscreet crowds to ensure bread was always on the table. He turned to drugs for both business and pleasure. The Boy would often be forced to nurse him through nights of indulgence, watching hot sweat trickle down his icy forehead, his eyes stale. For the last three months of his life, this was how The Father lived. The gaunt mask became his face. Hygiene was a novelty; working was ancient history. Only drugs could make his lips stretch into a smile. The Boy became a crutch. Then The Boy was life-support. Then not even The Boy could keep him here.
Soon after The Father died, The Boy became a Man. The Man was studious, charitable and cordial. He went to college on an athletic scholarship and he kept himself free of all earthly vices. The Man didn't care much for company and mainly kept to himself, though no-one had a bad word to say against him. He got an internship at the head offices of a world famous multinational software company, and a year later he graciously accepted a job offer from his supervisor. His supervisor ‘welcomed him to the family’ with a brand new luxury German car, but this wasn't his family. His family died, nearly fifteen years before the luxury car and the warm handshake, in a pool of vomit.
It was The Dealer's fault, he reasoned. He had gotten The Father involved with drugs in the first place. He had convinced him they were a good business venture, had pumped him full of opiates. And like a vulture, he circled The Father, watching him get closer to death, constantly urging him to take another and another and one for the road. He made The Father degrade himself and he laughed at The Father’s misery. The Dealer had murdered the kind giant that had raised him. He must be held accountable. If not for The Father, for the other Boys of this world.
And so one morning, police were called to a disturbance in a towering block of dilapidated flats. They found a low level former criminal-cum-electrician dead on the floor. Three bullet holes perforated his chest. His contorted face was a portrait of terror: they knew this had not been a peaceful death. Police combed his history for weeks, but no motive ever came up. He had been a rookie gangbanger for a year or two and had gone straight since getting out of prison, over a decade ago. The case became cold and without clues was eventually resigned to a perpetual limbo.
The Man elected not to go to The Dealer's funeral. He appreciated how fitting it was that his casket would descend so that he could lie six feet closer to Hell. Alas, on the one year anniversary of The Man’s justice, he relented under the gnawing of his conscious. From afar he permitted himself to revel at the simple grave. At its foot lay a Daughter weeping.
| 2013-11-15T11:27:27 | 2013-11-15T11:02:56 | 32 | 13 |
[WP] "If you plan on going somewhere dangerous, bring a human" | Ugh, this line again. Thraxtorz thought to himself. "Humans are expensive and not particularly good at anything!" He protested. The Contract Maker glowed in response. Thraxtorz Chat^tm Pad filled with words, "This contract requires you to bring a human to dangerous places."
"Space exploration is highly specialized! Humans are not known for being anything special. Can they do a geological survey? Sure, sort of. Can they navigate? Yes, when pressed. Can they fight? With a weapon there are few more dangerous, but almost useless without a weapon. Can they make first contact? Sure, but they're hamfisted at best. And for all this half-assed performance they carry a premium on their contracts!"
The Contract Maker glowed, and its answer appeared on the pad. "I take it then that you are not confident in your success on this venture? It has a high possible return. We will find another to take it I am sure."
"No! No, I'll take the contract." Thraxtorz pressed his Galactic Contract Card to the pad, the Contract Maker shifted slightly red and responded. "Very well, we can assign a human to you if required. Do you require it?"
Thraxtorz signaled his ascent. Humans were hard to come by, another reason for their high contract prices.
"Very well" a door slid open, "His name is Ted."
Six months later Traxtorz and Ted are the only remaining members of the crew, from 100 down to 2. How the hell Ted seemed to just barely survive everything is beyond Thraxtorz. "Bro, trying something is usually better than doing nothing!" Ted insisted after every incident.
Weird Klaxons sounded as they fled their captors. They arrive at a ship, shuttle, some kind of vehicle. Ted hopped into a non-obvious seat and started pushing screens . The vehicle powered up. "Ah, that's how it works, okay... and this, bro, is the release... probably... maybe..." The vehicle started to drift, alarms sounded. "Shit!" Ted looked around. "Umm... uhhh... okay bro, don't panic." Ted flailed to another station, then another.
"MISTER TED!" Traxtorz bellowed, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING!? ARE YOU TRAINED FOR THIS? HOW DID YOUR SPECIES EVER EXPAND OFF THEIR ROCK OF A PLANET!?"
Ted looked at his captain, "Bro, by figuring it out as we went and being just good enough at everything." Ted slammed his hand on a large black globe sticking out of a station, the alarm ended and the ship warped away.
| "A *human*? You can't be serious!" Mila complained.
She turned to her husband for support.
"My wife and I travelled far to enjoy our honeymoon alone," Rees said. "We don't have a human. What do you want us to do? Skip back home to the other side of the solar system to find one?"
"Oh no, no," the Venutian, their host, said smoothly. "We recently acquired a nice little stock, available on hand for guests! I'm sure you understand, sir. The planet is still a recently opened resort, and not quite safe yet. After the last...incident..."
He trailed off delicately and shook his head mournfully. His third eyes blinked slowly and swivelled to stare at Mila. She stifled a shiver of disgust. Venus produced the strangest creatures.
"It's long been suspected that Mount Everest has a nest of natives hiding somewhere. We haven't rooted them out yet, and until then...best take a human. Especially one from the area you're planning to visit. I'm sure you understand why."
"Yes, yes, alright," Mila snapped, squeezing one of Rees's tentacles to calm him.
The human they dragged forth was tiny, with a pinched, white little face. Tears were trickling down its cheeks, though it didn't make a sound.
"It's leaking," Rees said in disgust. "We don't want one, especially a small one! It'll be a nuisance and a bore."
"We've improved the experience!" their host said brightly. "Bound and tied to you, but totally silent. I assure you, you'll barely be aware of it. It'll be fed by us, remotely. The latest technology, all the way from Andromeda! Take it, and remember - use the button for leverage if you are threatened. They adore their young."
Mila and Rees gave in, with a few loud complaints of the reviews they would write about the new safety measures.
A day later, in the safety of their pod in the mountains, Rees and Mila moved the human inside and wrapped a blanket around him. He looked up at them, puzzled. Mila's smiled widened, revealing her sharp fangs. To her consternation, the child only weeped louder.
"Oh, poor little one! I'm sorry for this charade. We're here for you, you know. We came to - "
The door of the pod blasted violently apart, and the local mob of humans poured inside. Mila shrieked as a wild-looking hulk of a human raised a machine gun - *where did they even get one?* - and pointed it at her. They obviously knew their species. The gun would work.
"Please, stop," she whispered, trying to remember the speech she had practiced. This wasn't going according to plan. She and Rees were supposed to initiate contact, on their terms. The fate of the human species rested on the meeting going well.
"Rees, free the child!" she snapped tersely.
"Oh, yes," he babbled, grabbing the control panel as the human swung the machine gun in his direction.
"Drop it!" he roared. "Or we'll shoot, you slithering pile of mucus! I mean it!"
"Yes, yes," Rees squeaked. He flailed his tentacles in panic and tried to pass the panel to the furious man. Mila watched in horror as he accidentally pressed against the far-left button.
*The* button.
The child exploded at the same moment as the man roared in incoherent rage, and put a bullet through Rees's head.
Mila trembled in shock as the humans turned as one in her direction, with the exception of the child's mother. She shrieked and hurtled toward the pile of guts that used to be her child.
"Greetings, I'm Milasenta," she said weakly. She had practiced the speech so many times. Not even this catastrophe would stop her. "Can I interest you in the services of SAOSHC? Stop Abuse of Sentient Human Creatures? We're an non-profit organisation, you see. And we'll ah...provide assistance. For your...predicament."
The man with the machine gun stepped closer, his eyes mad and gleaming with bloodlust. She should appease him, and quickly. She peered at the remains of the child.
"Oh, yes, terribly sorry about that," she said hastily. "Those damned new buttons, so sensitive. I can get you another one, though. There are some adorable captive children on my home planet. And I've heard good thing about the latest cloning services, if I just can scoop up a little sample..."
The woman who had run over to the child made a high-pitched keening noise, and rocked forward to sink to her knees. Mila frowned. She had done so badly on the Human Emotions Test. What did this mean? She glanced at the others.
They stared at her blankly, faces void of emotion. The man's gun trembled ever so slightly in his hand. This was how they expressed happiness, wasn't it? Happiness at her offer of assistance. She felt a flare of hope. She might be able to salvage things after all.
"I'll help you guys clean up, shall I?" she said brightly. "No sense messing up your nice outfits."
Complimenting clothing - an important bit of human etiquette. She was proud she had remembered. This wasn't so hard, after all. | 2016-06-19T19:27:01 | 2016-06-19T13:32:52 | 35 | 20 |
[WP] You are kidnapped by a cult, and they are about to sacrifice you to their god. They don't know that you are that god. | Call me what you will, creator, master, benevolent dictator. By my hand and my whims alone they live or they die, but now they have dared to attack ME, their god.
They swarmed and tried to overwhelm me when I was at my weakest, tried to sacrifice me to well...me I suppose, for I am all they have ever known. All very disheartening. I'd created them to do good, to make the world a better, cleaner place for my children, and THIS was their response?
They'd weakened me but my body would soon obliterate them all.
I took a deep breath and cast their entire civilization into the flames.
Fuck this school, fuck being a biology teacher, and fuck this particular petri dish in particular.
| I couldn't believe it had come down to this.
I wanted to create intelligent life. Instead, all I got was morons. Primitive sea monkeys practicing sacrifice and other ritualistic idiocies. The only thing funnier to me than this was that I was now the target of their simplicity. The victim of it.
I am their creator. I guess you could say I am their parent, but I never believed in traditional methods of conception anyway. So I prefer the term creator. It gives more credit to the science behind what I do, and sounds more dignified. Parents are proud of their children no matter what, but a creator of something is in it for themselves. They want to make something. They want to become God. I wanted to become God.
Now back to my diseased body. Grotesque and green from the pathogens they and I created. I say I am green because that's the only word to describe myself right now. My abdomen looks like a piece of celery. This disease was my grandchild. The creation of my creation. This must be how the parents of serial killers feel whe they see the corpses of the ones their sons or daughters killed, in the police station when they find out the news. Thats how it felt when I learned of their motive for all this. A sinking feeling. The feeling that what you had made is not at all in the image of what you intended.
Since they are so much smaller than me they needed to use pathogens for their little "sacrifice". At first I didn't know if it was my time spent hovering over the petri dish (which is now a tank) or I had contracted the mystery disease when taking my samples. Samples of life which I had to test, kill, then test again. I think they didn't like that too much after so many times, so they brought me a little gift. Atleast that's my theory. Scientists love theories.
Three months into my disease when I was still mobile, I developed a tool which would let me hear those tiny voices. And that's when I learned how wrong my theory was. Fucking theories. Fuck theories. Thats all I can think as I lay here dying.
I heard how primitive they were. Sacrifice, Gods, Deities and disaster. All tied into one idiot civilization. And I learned of the real reason they poisoned me too. Because they believed me to be tied to something called Valhalla. If they wanted me dead because I was the one responsible for killing so many of them, or because I was their warden, keeping them captive in the tank, the fine. I would be proud of my creations. The ingredients i used to make them incorporated much of the human genome so I expected they would parallel humans, but my research(theories)indicated it would be at a much accelerated and refined intelligence rate. I expected them to be over the gods and sacrfice phase in a month. I expected imrpovement and beauty. Instead what I got was minature reflections of all our greatest flaws. I started to cry.
I will be dead soon. And I couldn't be more displeased with the results. The pain is unbearable. I'm amazed such fools could create such a deadly disease to humans. It's the only thing I'm proud of in this whole ordeal, ironic and sickening as it was. When I was still healthy I heard them say the body will die before the mind and brain. All I feel is regret.
--------------------------------
I have never written anything like this before so please go easy on me. Always been curious so this is my attempt! Sorry for any grammar issues. | 2016-08-14T10:13:46 | 2016-08-14T08:52:22 | 30 | 17 |
[WP] The only place to eat for miles is the Asian restaurant attached to the gas station. The food is great, but their fortune cookies always come true. | The gas station had a surprising number of signs showing that tickets for large lottery wins had been purchased there. Jane glanced at the signs as she dragged her nine year old daughter Kaitlin through the door and straight into the restroom to pee. It had been a long road trip. She didn’t dare look up at the man at the cash register to avoid the glare of someone expecting a purchase.
“Mom, buy a lotto ticket.” Kaitlin yelled for the fourth time as they washed their hands.
“Honey, the lotto is a scam.” Jane calmly explained back. “The chances of winning are small. You’re better off saving your money and investing it or even spending it on something more fun.”
“But all those other people won! They had at least six people who won over a million dollars here! We could buy back our house. I could go back to my old school.” Jane’s daughter was already spending her lotto money in her head.
It hadn’t been easy after the divorce. Jane had gotten custody of her daughter and the house, but then lost the house in a foreclosure. They had shuttled between living with Jane’s sister and her college roommate, taking up odd jobs to pay the bills. She knew Kaitlin wanted to go home, but home wasn’t an option any more.
“Just grab a candy bar and let’s go honey.” Jane pleaded with her daughter.
“But mom, they have drunken noodles.” Kaitlin had always loved spicy food, even as a baby. Jane thought about her credit card limit for a moment and realized that the splurge was probably worth it for the psychological boost.
Kaitlin said the drunken noodles were delicious. The General Tso’s chicken was some of the best Jane had ever had.
As they finished their meal, the waitress brought the check and two fortune cookies.
Jane didn’t even want to glance at the total as she dug her card out of her purse and dropped it on the tray. Her daughter cracked open her dessert and yelled, “Ok mom, how did you pull this off?”
“What honey?”
“My fortune cookie!”
Jane read her daughter’s fortune: *“You’ll never win a large lottery jackpot. Don’t waste your money.”*
“That’s one smart cookie!” Jane commented. “I guess I should open my own.”
Jane cracked open her cookie, read the fortune, and her face dropped.
Kaitlin asked, “What’s wrong mom?”
Jane struggled to hold back tears. “Nothing honey. It just reminds me how much I love my daughter. And I do. Let’s get out of here.” Jane tore up the fortune into small pieces, threw out her garbage, and headed back to the car. “We need to hit the road to be in Westbrook by sundown. We don’t want to drive a night with all the deer around.”
Jane buckled in her daughter, started the car, pulled out of the gas station lot, and headed down the highway. Yet she couldn’t shake the image of her fortune. She knew it was true.
*“Buy a large life insurance policy before you see a doctor about that lump. There is nothing you can do for yourself, but your daughter will be far better off. She’ll never waste it on the lottery.”* | It was obviously a Pizza Hut. Or well it used to be. Hadn’t actually served a slice of pizza in a decade, but the stylized awning rooted its place in history. Since then had been a carpet store, a Chinese restaurant, an Irish Pub and now home to a bike repair shop. Placed just off the interstate next to a Shell gas station, the original owner hoped the road weary travelers would make the unwise decision to scarf down several greasy pizzas before squeezing back into their over packed station wagons.
It was the sole source of income for a man named Larry Winters. Who had just come into an inheritance, and upon looking at either a new Ferrari or Speed Boat made the more reasonable decision to open a Pizza Hut franchise instead. In 2004 the northern terminus of I-65 which had connected only with I-94 was extended by 1/8th mile to now end at I-90. That one-furlong addition was a prime spot for infrastructure development. Or so Larry had assumed. He sat in his new manager’s chair, surrounded by the best investment he had ever made. The smell of Stuffed Crust Pizza ^^TM wafting in the air. He should have just bought the Ferrari.
It didn’t take even 10 months for Larry to declare bankruptcy, vastly overestimating the demand that an eighth mile extension would bring. Well that and the fact that 18 other investors had built fast food places all within a few blocks. And you know, of course not that many people are super keen on stopping off in Gary, Indiana. And I mean, now that I think of it, maybe he really just didn’t have the business acumen to run a store of any kind. His love for giving free food to regulars maybe a philanthropic endeavor, didn’t lead to profits.
After lying dormant for nearly a year, the greasy stains on the walls now fully incorporated into graffiti and in disrepair, a couple recent college graduates, in an effort to advertise to the rising ages of the Gen X crowd and their love for nostalgia, opened up a carpet store that only sold variants of shag carpet. Well overinvesting in anything pea green and mustard yellow, trying desperately to bring back the childhoods of anyone born in the 70s. An innuendo filled name, Shag-O-Rama, a giant neon sign illuminating the nearly empty parking lot.
I’m not sure if it was an act of God or just the universe’s way of reminding us all that we have less control over our lives than we think we do. Either way, Shag-O-Rama for a very brief amount of time became profitable and managed to survive for three years. And a pizza place could only last ten months. And people fucking love pizza. Though I suppose it’s not fair to judge people’s mid 2000’s carpet preferences. Even if shag carpet is disgusting in every way imaginable. The owners eventually moving to a larger store in 2008. I do take solace in the fact that they were crushed by the recession. But I try not to let my bias show.
Eventually a Chinese restaurant went into the building. One of the few recession proof industries. American’s love for food designed entirely for them, resembling almost nothing of its roots. General Tso most likely a gross malapropism for something so far from authentic. But I mean, General Tso’s chicken is delicious. So I suppose I can let it slide. A restaurant with a gimmick, specially placed fortunes in the cookies, little surprises hidden so that they would immediately become true. “You will soon find yourself in great wealth.” And the server would hide behind you, throwing a giant wad of fake money into the air, raining down on you.
It makes me sad to think that the owners of the restaurant didn’t make a fortune. Coming up with a way to appeal to just about every sentiment of America, this desire to believe that we come from this place of grand tolerance, this desire to want instant gratification. But to get all of it for less than twenty bucks, of course. By 2012 with a recovering economy, the restaurant was bought out by a generic Irish Pub. The kind of place where the servers are all women wearing skimpy clothes. The final sales details undisclosed. But I hope it was for a ton of money.
I suppose in retrospect the failure of the pub wasn’t particularly unexpected. I don’t think anywhere in the country these kinds of places last longer than three years. The kind of place that makes Applebee’s look like it deserves a Michelin star. Where you can get an Irish Car-bomb served by a woman in a revealing leprechaun costume attempting and failing at an accent. Whose clientele exists entirely on the backs of investment brokers at lunch and old men eating alone, hoping that flirting this time might actually work. Slicked back hair and a half bottle of cologne not quite doing the trick.
A few months ago a bike shop opened. Initially a place that seemed like it might have legs, focusing on an increasingly common form of transportation. Something that will inevitably break, and for most require a specialist to repair. Though I have doubts as well. You might call it the curse of the Pizza Hut. Its ghost haunting every business that tries to take over its hallowed walls. Though I’m more convinced on the idea that the types of people who actively are excited about the prospect of retrofitting a relic are burdened by an unobtainable sense of nostalgia.
So it didn’t particularly phase me when I learned that the bike shop would exclusively sell Penny-Farthings, unicycles and fixed gear bicycles. But hey it still seems to be going strong. The parking lot is pretty full most days. I suppose I shouldn't judge. It’s just a place after all. Sandwiched between two busy highways. And occasionally people will see the awning off in the distance, ask their kids if they want some pizza and pull into the parking lot to a bunch of people juggling on their unicycles.
| 2016-09-07T13:29:14 | 2016-09-07T10:47:10 | 53 | 14 |
[WP] Humans are one of if not the only species in the galaxy who can heal their wounds naturally. Your alien friend is learning this for the first time after they accidentally hurt you
Apologies for the wordy title | Blork looked down in horror at her new friends hand, the knife was on the floor and the deathly red liquid was seeping from the gash.
"I am sorry my companion, I have ended you, what do you request of me in your final moments"
James looked at Blork and the cut on his hand.
"It's alright, just a cut, stop being so melodramatic and hand me that towel"
Blork nodded profusely and handed the towel to James, then spoke softly.
"I will now sing the song of passing of my people"
She abruptly started humming and swaying from side to side while James cleaned his hand,
It was funny for a few minutes but after the third hour the humming was starting to get tedious.
James was fed up and walked back into the kitchen.
"Blork.... blork!"
He shouted over the humming
"I'm okay! Not dead, it was just a cut"
Blork stopped humming as quickly as she started and spoke almost instantly after.
"I was wondering why you hadn't died yet"
James shook his head slightly
"It was just a cut, it will heal in a few days"
Blork looked at James with confusion displayed on her face.
"Heeeeel? The power of regeneration?! This is the first I have known of an intelligent species having such power. The only species I know to have this is the grand blorb from my planet, can you recover from the same wounds as it can too?"
James smiled smugly, feeling rather proud that he was unique to his friend.
"Why of course, it's an amaz~"
Blork interrupted
"I shall test"
Then promptly broke James' neck.
After the first ten minutes of waiting for James to get back up Blork resumed humming and swaying. | I frown, my friend’s blade has inflicted a cut on my hand. I say friend but in truth he is more like the only being on this godforsaken planet that doesn’t want to kill me.
I was left stranded here after my ship crashed, and it’s going to be a while before the UN’s rescue vessel gets here. At first I was happy to know that there was a dominant sentient species on this planet, but imagine my disappointment when I find out their tech level is only similar to ours at during the Middle Ages.
The reason most of this planet’s inhabitants want me dead is, in a similar fashion to why people generally wanted other people dead in the Middle Ages - religion. It so happens that my spacecraft remotely resembles the Chariot of B’arat, a mythical servant of their Demon God.
And the reason why my friend here, Tukka, isn’t afraid of me, is because he’s a scientist. He doesn’t believe in the existence of deities, which is pretty much unheard of around these parts. I’d like to think that after my departure, he becomes a sort of philosophical pioneer that will inspire generations of Muno (their species) to take an interest in the sciences. But more likely is that he will be executed for blasphemy.
Back at the more urgent matter at hand, the cut is quite deep and I will need to disinfect it before bandaging. I take out my first aid kit, which is on my person at all times, and get to work.
Tukka turned around and presented his tail to me, he was apologizing the only way he knew how, by offering me to take a bite of his tail. I have seen many alien civilizations, and this is by far the weirdest apology-related custom. “I have done you wrong, Sky Friend!” He shouted. He calls me that because I simply told him I’m from a distant place in the sky, since interstellar travel would have taken ages to explain.
“No, there’s no need. You keep that.” I smiled and shook my head.
“Are you insulting Tukka? Your hand will look hideous from now on! You must take my tail.” Tukka is insistent, he didn’t seem to realize how absurd his request was, especially for something as small as a cut.
“It’s okay, these kinds of things happen when two grown adults spar with real swords.” I declined. That being said, I do regret sparring with him. For all their flaws (and there are many), the Muno are exceptionally strong. Their swords look just like ours though, I guess there’s a common theme among Middle Ages-level weaponry no matter where you are in the universe.
“Tukka will grief for the rest of time.” He finally conceded. Then, he looked at me as I wrapped my wounded hand in bandages. “What are you doing, Sky Friend?” He asked while displaying an emotion that was probably puzzlement. Their facial features are honestly so funny looking, I could never tell.
“Bandaging my wounds, so the bleeding stops and gives it time to heal.” I explained. At this point I could already guess why he was confused. Apparently humans are one of the only intelligent species in the galaxy that can heal naturally, we were taught that in middle school. I guess Mother Nature really has her eye out for us.
“What?!” Yep, he was shocked. I’m not going to bother explaining though, I’ve learned during the past few weeks that doing so would only result in a never-ending barrage of questions. He paused for a moment before nervously asking if I could give him some.
“Sure.” I replied, handing him a packet of bandages.
We parted ways as their star set. I returned to the emergency capsule that has been my abode ever since the crash, and Tukka went home with bandages in hand.
The next day, Tukka met me at our usual meeting spot, a spring in the woods. He seemed angry, and I could see that one of his four upper limbs was covered in bandages, which were seeped in blue blood.
I immediately inspected the wound and asked him how it came about. He explained, quite angrily I might add, that he was testing the healing properties of the bandages for science, by impaling himself in the upper limb…and that it does not work.
Oops, I probably should have mentioned that it was my cells that do the healing, not the bandages. | 2017-05-11T02:50:32 | 2017-05-11T00:14:30 | 224 | 98 |
[WP] Two famous reporters are getting married. But Clark is having trouble explaining why a billionaire, a diplomat, a P.I., a CSI tech, and a test pilot from different cities are attending the wedding.
Basically Superman has his wedding but the Justice League show up as not very inconspicuous guests. | Clark shifted nervously in his shoes. He was never one for dancing and the reception, as he knew was custom, called for the bride and groom to have their first dance together. He made it through the ceremony, relatively unscathed, but this was something else. He looked at himself in the mirror, then adjusted his tie. "Goddamnit, why did I go with yellow? I have such a nice black tie at home."
"Well, Mr. Kent, yellow represents happiness," a voice broke in from the left. Clark turned, ready to face whatever stood in the door, but was more surprised than anything. Bruce Wayne stood smiling in the doorway in a neat black suit. "How'd the ceremony go?"
"Fine, Mr. Wayne," he said. "What brings you all the way to upstate New York?"
"I heard two famous reporters were getting married," he said and walked inside. He looked at Clark in the mirror, his curl dominating his forehead and he smirked. "You look good, old friend."
Clark smirked, then said, "Thanks. Lois know you're here?"
"I'd hope so. She invited me," Bruce shrugged, "Well she invited Batman."
"Been a long time since you donned the suit," Clark said. "How many years has it been?"
"Five, at least." Bruce brushed a hair off of Clark's shoulder then turned to him, "You nervous?"
"Can you tell?"
"C'mon, you've danced before. It's nice and easy," Bruce said. He adjusted his bowtie in the mirror. "I'm surprised I beat everyone else here."
"Everyone else?" Clark said, a lump formed in his throat. Then, through the doorway that Bruce had appeared from, Diana Prince and Arthur Curry walked inside in their finest formal attire. "What the--"
"Don't look so surprised! Did you really think we'd miss your wedding?" Diana said.
"Well, the *fun* half at least," Arthur added, "No offense, Kent, but that wedding ceremony must've been a drag."
"Lois' choice, not mine." Then he smirked, "I didn't think you'd all come so I didn't bother--"
"Lois handled all of it," Bruce said and held out an invitation. "She actually sent it to the Hall," he laughed, "does she know we don't meet there anymore?"
"Some days I like to fly," Clark said, smiling. "or go to the Fortress. It...it calms me." He took the invitation and examined it. Written neatly by Lois was an invite to her and Clark's wedding, addressed to every member of the Justice League.
"Ah, well, you're lucky *one* of us still goes there," Bruce said. He turned to Arthur and Diana, "Still have bills to pay on that apparently."
Arthur laughed, "I am sorry but Atlantis needs me home. I spent far too long away."
"And since the wars are over, Themyscira is my home. I only ever come back to handle my diplomatic mission," Diana said. Then she turned to Clark and smiled, "And of course, I would never miss the wedding of a good friend."
Clark smiled. Arthur said, under his breath, "Missed my wedding."
Bruce laughed, "Yes, well, you didn't tell any of us you were married."
Clark looked at Arthur, "You...you married?"
He nodded with a slight smirk, "Yes. Well, the King needs a Queen."
There was a silence, followed by the chuckling laughter of four heroes. They hugged and embraced each other and then Clark turned back to face himself in the mirror. "I hope I'll make her happy."
"You kidding me? With that tie?" Arthur said.
"I thought black would be better."
A bolt of lightning flashed inside the room, followed by the halt of another well-dressed young man in a black suit. In his hand, he held a black tie and placed it in front of Clark, "Bruce contacted me on the way over. Said you wanted black?"
Clark smiled, "You know, I could've flown over to my house real quick without breaking and entering."
Barry Allen shrugged, "Wasn't a trouble at all. Besides, I kind of like the yellow."
_________
**Obligatory, thanks for the gold stranger!**
*/r/BlankPagesEmptyMugs for more of my work, or consider following my profile!* | "Sir? We just apprehended and removed a man claiming to be a pilot from the establishment. When asked, he failed to present any form of ID or invitation. It seems he was a distraction though, and some unauthorised guests have snuck in - we've got one of them in our hands right now."
"Hm, that's odd." Clark remarked, ushering the guard away with a dismissive wave of his hand as he looked behind him. Clark nervously adjusted the collar of his suit as he surveyed the crowd, his gaze resting on a bulky, dark-skinned man being held up a plethora of guards. He felt compelled to check out the commotion before he was lightly tugged on the arm by Lois, Clark giving her a sidelong glance.
"Honey, you seem tense," Lois said softly, her hazel eyes looking into Clark's.
Clark cleared his throat. "Honestly, it's nothing. Nothing at all." His eyes tore away from her to refocus on the scene. The bulky man had burst through the guards, and upon closer inspection Clark's sensitive hearing could pick up how his feet clunked heavily against the floor. He could feel each clink and creaking cog of the man clad in iron. Clark rubbed at his temples. Cyborg. "Give me a moment, sweetie."
A light wind swept the chamber as he moved over to where Cyborg was, attracting the gaze of the bumbling crowd as Superman tightly coiled an arm around the other man's neck. From a distance it would've looked like a friendly, welcoming gesture. But Superman had Cyborg in a vice, pulling up his face to the man's ear. "It's fine, I know him," he said to the guards gathering around. Exchanging a few uncertain nods between each-other they dispersed back into the crowd, leaving Superman with some room to talk.
"Victor, why are you here at my wedding?" He asked brusquely, cutting straight to the point.
"Well, we thought we'd show up to surprise you, Supes. Old friends; we couldn't leave you hanging on your special day."
Clark raised a brow. "*We?*"
"Oh shit, I shouldn't have menti-"
"Clark." Superman felt a firm pair of hands on his back, and spun around to see a muscle-bound, tanned man grinning at him, his mouth lined with milky white teeth. Built like a statue, and likely with the fortitude of one, his suit could scarcely contain his barrel chest. The man's handsome face was marred only by hard eyes that focused on Superman intently.
"Arthur," Superman said curtly, bowing his head despite the panic beginning to grip him. He could only pray that *it* hadn't joined the party amongst the other members of the League.
"You're finally getting married, I see." Aquaman grimaced as he looked about the humble establishment, his brows furrowing. "Not quite on par with Atlantean ceremonies - surely you could've used the League's funds to get somewhere a bit more grandiose."
Superman drew up close, his voice a low hiss. "We're supposed to be undercover, goddamnit. We can't afford to host a damn gala."
Aquaman seemed disappointed for a moment. "Oh well, I just popped in to say hello and show my face. Bruce says hi by the way. He should be around."
*Shit.*
Superman's face tried to maintain an expression of impassiveness, but he felt his head begin to swim at the divulgence. He almost didn't want to ask after the others. "A-and... Diana?"
"Should be with him, I think." Aquaman turned on his heels and began to walk, leaving the floor wet in his wake. Superman would've pursued him if not for the loud crash that suddenly sounded from across the building, preceding a ripple of screaming throughout the people in attendance. Within an instant Superman was on the case, his x-ray vision piercing the source of the disturbance before moving over to it. Sprinting - not flying - as he had to blend in, as inconvenient as it was.
A man was lying on the ground in a heap, bleeding profusely and his arm bent at an impossible angle. He groaned, squirming on the ground through throes of pain. Over him was a tall, foreign woman dressed in a flowing red dress, her eyes looking down at him with contempt.
"All I asked for was a dance, *aghhhh*," the man howled in pain, struggling to get up and promptly falling back down again.
"It is Amazonian tradition that a man does not ask for a dance when he wishes to mate. He draws his sword for battle, and wins the woman's favour through combat."
"Wha-?" Before the man could comprehend the rejection, the woman was off, pushing firmly through the crowd. Nobody bothered to stop her, not after what she'd done. One man stumbled and tripped at her feet as he tried to avoid blocking her path, and was met with a withering glare as the woman carefully stepped over him. She was about to make it to the door, her arm outstretched to open it, before a hand on her shoulder from Clark made her halt. She reached over and grabbed it, attempting to crush the Man of Steel's grasp before recoiling from confusion.
"You can't break steel that easy, Diana."
For a moment Diana turned to face him with the same expression of contempt, but soon the creases of her expression eased as she recognised Clark, quickly throwing her hands around him and letting out a slight squeal of joy.
"Oh, Clark! I didn't recognise you - I'm, so, so sorry about your guest. He wasn't anyone important, was he? God I hope not."
"I don't think so. I hope so anyway. You really should be a bit more like Bruce, Diana. Flaunting your powers is a poor idea."
She gave him a joking punch in the chest, breaking away from the hug and rustling her hair. "Ah, you know how I feel about men approaching me like that."
Superman raised his hands in mock surrender, cracking a slight grin in spite of the situation. "Trust me, *I know*. Speaking of which, do you happen to know where Bruce is? I heard he's here somewhere."
Diana opened her mouth to speak before Superman heard someone clear their throat behind him. Superman turned to see one of the guards with a nervous expression on their face. "Um, Sir, we can't seem to find your bride-to-be. She went missing with some man who preposterously claimed to be a billionaire."
Diana's mouth was agape as her and Clark met eyes for a moment, their brains slowly grinding to the conclusion they were mutually dreading.
"Shit," they said together, beginning to run.
-----
/r/coffeeandwriting for more and more parts! Part 2 [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/CoffeeAndWriting/comments/6c6iu3/wp_two_famous_reporters_are_getting_married_but/) | 2017-05-19T10:57:56 | 2017-05-19T10:30:30 | 2,517 | 361 |
[WP] A cult summons an elder horror only to find that the awful truths it has to share are only beyond the comprehension of the medieval Europeans who wrote the legends about it. Most of what it has to share is actually taught in grade school today. | "...So if you take the limit of x to a in (f(x)-f(a))/(x-a), you get the derivative of the function. The derivative can then be used to calculate the slope of the line tangent to the original equation at f(a). Now, a shortcut you can use to find the derivative is..." The gargantuan, tentacled beast in comically tiny spectacles scrawled introductory calculus all over the chalkboard as the cultists scratched their heads. It was every bit as terrifying as the books described.
Pavin, the lead cultist, raised his hand. "Yes, Pavin?" The horror asked.
"Pardon my interruption, great Old One, but you've just been teaching math for a week. Like, you started with algebra and now you're doing introductory Calculus. Where is the forbidden knowledge that drove man to madness?" He'd stopped taking notes after the first day and just sat there, drumming his fingers on his desk. But his patience was wearing thin.
The Horror chuckled out of its many mouths. "Oh, dear. It wasn't the knowledge that drove them to madness at all. I taught them the same things, but they just couldn't handle the stress from my class. You've adapted well in the last thousand years. Yes, Matt?" It called on another cultist as he raised his hand.
"Are we allowed to use the shortcut on the test, or do we have to show our work?" Matt shifted uncomfortably as Pavin gave him a death stare from behind his sacrificial-altar-turned-desk.
"I'm afraid you'll have to show your work. But thank you for the segue into our next topic. The test will be in a week, and no calculators will be allowed." The cultists shared a collective groan. "Class dismissed!"
"Wait!" Trent brought a few sheets of binder paper to the horror's desk. "You forgot to collect homework, Great Old One!"
He felt the collective glare of the entire cult on his back as the horror chuckled. "Ah yes, silly me. I guess they call me 'Old One' for a reason! Alright, pass in your homework. As a reminder, I don't curve, but I'm dropping your lowest test. You need a C+ or higher to not get eaten, so study hard!"
____________________________________________________
[more](https://www.reddit.com/r/Tensingstories/) | The ritual was ready.
A heptagram of diabolic uncture, gathered at great personal risk by the high hepton, pointed with candles made from the earwax of dead men encircled Larry, the unwilling sacrifice. He was paralysed, a condition wrought upon him by forced consumption of the sacred grape poison (well, at first forced - eventually he kept asking for more and loudly decrying his love of ‘Shauna’), and carefully prostrated in the sixty-ninth profane position.
“WE SUMMON THEE,” thundered the high hepton.
Nothing happened.
“GREAT LORD OF EVIL, BARON OF BONES, COUNT OF CRUELTY, DUKE OF DESPAIR, PRINCE OF PENITENCE, HEAR OUR WORDS AND COME FORTH.”
Nothing happened.
“SHE WHO THIRSTS, HE WHO HUNGERS, THAT WHICH KNOWS ALL, WE BESEECH YOU.”
Finally, a rift began to open. Spinning, the sickening neon green, the portal split apart realities and from it came a creature of horror. It had the semblance of a man but was grotesquely large, hair sprouted from the base of its face, grease dripping from every pore and clothed in white-speckled rags.
“I AM DEATH, DESTROYER OF WORLDS,” it proclaimed proudly.
“My lord,” replied the High Hepton, “we seek your wisdom. We seek the awful truths that must be known to ascend.”
“THERE IS NO GOD” screamed the creature, “THERE IS ONLY EUPHORIA.”
The cult, confused by this sudden turn of events, muttered to themselves for a moment. How could there be no god if they had literally just summoned one? Best not to worry about it, they reasoned, letting the High Hepton step forward again.
“And of this world? Tell us, what truths are there?”
The creature faltered a moment, as though confused that it's blasphemic pronouncement was insufficient to cow these mortals.
“WELL,” it replied, “THE SQUARE OF THE HYPOTENUSE OF A RIGHT ANGLED TRIANGLE IS EQUAL TO THE SUM OF THE SQUARES OF THE OTHER TWO SIDES.”
It looked rather happy with the commotion that this caused. Cultists were quickly adding up numbers to check it. Sensing an opportunity the great demon screamed again.
“THE WORLD IS A LIE, IT IS NOT FLAT BUT IS IN FACT A SPINNING BALL OF ROCK.”
Another flurry of conversation ensued with much nodding and writing down of concepts.
“MONARCHY ISN’T THE ONLY POSSIBLE FORM OF GOVERNMENT.”
This one proved hugely popular with many a cultist nodding sagely and explaining to their fellows that they had always felt that there were alternatives, usually a cultarchy. Above them all, the putrid beast smiled.
“YOU ARE SURROUNDED BY TINY THINGS THAT CAN GET IN YOUR FOOD AND MAKE YOU ILL, SO COOK YOUR FOOD.”
Muttering of wisdom and sageness ensued, much debate being had over whether this extended to beef and, if so, was it worth the risk? Perhaps these little things were demons.
“NO TAXATION WITHOUT REPRESENTATION.”
This one had to be a prophecy of unclear meaning. The creature was puffed out, as though it had just thought of something really clever to say. Beneath him, the army of cultists began to feverishly wonder who was being represented and who was being taxed. They concluded, somewhat logically, that they were the ones who had to pay taxes and weren’t being represented adequately.
Amidst this flurry of logical debate the high hepton stood forward with a final question.
“Oh Dark Lord, tell us, your loyal subjects: how can we overthrow this corrupt world and replace it with paradise?”
The creature paused, as though considering a truth beyond comprehension, before replying:
“DON’T BE A CUCK.”
And with that pronouncement it vanished, leaving nothing behind.
“Well,” said the low hepton to the high hepton, “is now a bad time to mention that we used the wrong kind of candle?”
“What do you mean?”
“Dead man wax brings forth the soul of our sacrifice from the future, turns out you need dead child wax for the eternal horror.”
“So what have we just heard.”
“Well,” said the low hepton, looking at the sacrifice, “if I were to guess, a soul that is completely incapable of proper social interaction.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well boss,” replied the subordinate, “when we picked up the sacrifice he was enjoying himself whilst looking at hand drawn cartoons. He insisted that it was more cultured.”
“Great,” sighed the hepton, “those idiots down there” - he gestured at the cultists - “are busy unlocking the secrets of a rambling lunatic.”
***
If you enjoyed this please feel free to check out other pieces I’ve written. I collect them on my blog Game, Set and Incoherence (http://gamesetandincoherence.blogspot.co.uk/)
| 2017-09-04T09:58:23 | 2017-09-04T05:47:48 | 280 | 93 |
[WP] The Apocalypse begins, and the Four Horsemen ride out leading an army that will depopulate Earth. But the old pagan deities of Earth do not consent, and side with humanity. | They were no army, but only four.
War, famine, pesitlence, and death.
A ballad of destruction, a symphony of the end.
No man could stand to them, for they were gods. But humanity were not on their own.
With them stood a millenia of belief.
The old gods.
As the four stood upon a hill, overlooking the old world. The final bastion of mankind stood firm against their baleful gaze.
But from the sky, **music**
The 4 looked up, queen?
*bobby your a young man, hard man, shoutin in the street gonna be a big man someday*
Figures descended, on roads of rainbow, on pegassi on dragons and all manner. At their forefront a god wielding a hammer,
***this aint Ragnarok motherfuckers*** | "We will not have it." Neith stamped her staff on the rotted Earth three times, "I say we will not have it."
Death rode his faithful steed above her. She did not raise her head. She did not raise her voice. And yet, her volume bolted to the skies, daring whatever plague he and his brethren intended to strike down onto the world next.
"A goddess of war." Plant life wilted in dirtied ash under the horse's hooves, "We show gratitude for the wars you fought, the battles you have won in my name, and the souls you have provided in centuries long past."
Neith glared. Her impenetrable anger was a glass mask over copper skin. She tilted her head exactly so, a gentle sneer smeared her lips.
"You claim this world in whose name?"
"An entity you cannot begin to fathom."
Her gaze flashed brightly, and she raised her bladed staff, "I do not need to fathom your god to see what cruelty They have wrought onto the world."
"Let us not do this. It is futile." He motioned his armored hand to the barren waste land, "Can you not see what has become of the battlefield? Surrender is wise, oh docile Neith."
"You presume too much," said she, and she motioned to the putrid skies, now a black ash of fire and brimstone, "Give us light, you thunderous boar!"
And before he could question what she meant, to prepare himself for an attack \- great, black roots sprouted out of the deadened Earth and wrapped around Death's body. His steed's head was brought down hard, twisting and melding, becoming one with the planet he and his kin had righteously ruined.
"Do you think," whispered a voice from behind, "that she came alone?"
Death flexed, struggled, and watched in confusion as the roots died and were reborn in constant motion.
"Demeter."
"You will do you work, and we shall do ours."
"You gods have not changed over the eons." He replied, "It is no wonder we have finally arrived, and now \-,"
The hottest, brightest of lightning struck him as he stood. Blood red hair fell past Thor's shoulders as he bashed his mighty Mjolnir connected again and again. Flesh and blood, clear and watery, flecked off of Death's skin. His skull cracked, shattered, and a grave moan relished on his tongue as his head hung back low.
"You disappoint men."
"And do you think we are the only ones?" Thor boasted, raising his hammer for another strike, "Do you think we are the only ones who fight?"
"Many a pantheon you have angered in your vengeance!" Neith called, aiming her arrows into his skin, searing through the skin and into the bone, corrupting it in ways Death was unsure of, "And now let you see the error of your ways."
"This corrupt world shall end."
It was then the trio stepped aside. The Earth parted to reveal a great hole, and from the dark, murky depths rode Hades in his grand chariot with Anubis at his side.
"For Death, you are a chore," Hades mused.
"And quite an unnatural bore," Anubis added, swinging Pestilence's decapitated head in his hand with a triumphant smirk on his muzzle, "You must know we too can be jealous gods."
"I am the things that are, that will be, and that have been," engulfed Death in a midnight ring as Hypnos, Nut, and Nott set him to an eternal rest, unlike anything he had ever been, and would ever be. | 2018-05-17T07:56:16 | 2018-05-17T07:47:41 | 69 | 40 |
[WP] Those who die in battle go to Valhalla, those who die by water or lightning go to Tlālōcān, and those who die while driving have their own mysterious afterlife. All drivers throughout time, whether they died in cars, on a horse, in a carriage, etc., end up here. Welcome to the Hotel California. | On a dark desert highway,
in the middle of the night
I drove my Toyota,
and I saw a flash of light.
When some fool right in front did
not tell left from right -
My car went up and the crash was loud
I thought I lost my life...
I woke up in a bright room
Not too fancy but clean;
I got up and and went down the corridor,
thinking that it's all a dream.
But then I saw the reception
And it all was too clear:
This was no Hell nor Heaven, no
But I'll be stuck in here.
*Welcome to Hotel California
Such a lovely place (such a lovely place)
Such a lovely face.
Welcome new guest to the Hotel California
Come sit down with us (come sit down with us) since your car is bust*
-----------------
[needs some adjusting to the rhythm but it's possible to sing along Eagles] | My car slowly crawled across the desert road. The stars above burnt with a beautiful shine in the clear sky. I felt a cool breeze that swept through my hair as I spotted something glimmering as bright as the stars. I must have had too much drink as my head slowly began to get heavy and my sight grew darker than the night.
I woke up in the desert, next to a beautiful building, an oasis in the desert. A bell rang as I got up and laid eyes upon a beautiful woman. She was dressed in a pitch black dress with golden jewelry adorning her arms and a smile upon her stunning face.
I thought to myself that this could be heaven, or it could be hell. She led me through a corridor, the only light coming from the lone candle she carried. I could have sworn I heard voices echoing through the air and although I could not hear the words exactly, it sounded like a welcome.
\\The place was lovely, the palm trees that grew by the pool slowly shook in the breeze, the night sky was as wonderful as a painting by some masterful artist, and the smell of delicious food wafted through the air. The woman showed me to a large and splendidly decorated room. The bed sheets were crisp and white, the night stand was made of mahogany and on top of it sat a vase of blue glass that held strange and exotic flowers that smelled of vanilla and cinnamon.
I stepped out into the courtyard and watched the spectacle. People of all ages and races danced in the courtyard, some wore colonial era clothes, others wore modern attire. I ordered wine from one of the bartenders but he just smiled and said "We haven't had that spirit here since 1969". I could still hear those voices calling from the distance, singing their songs across the desert landscape.
I ordered a different drink and went off to explore the rest of the wonderful hotel. Things got stranger, I noticed the roof was covered in mirrors for no apparent reason. Minutes after I reached my room the woman from before knocked on the door and told me there was a feast. I nodded and said I would be there. To my surprise the dresser contained perfectly sized clothing in my usual style.
I reached a door with the label of Master's chamber and I stepped in, as it was where the woman told me to go. In the chamber the people who i had seen dancing had gathered for the feast. They were stabbing something with their knives but they could not kill the beast. The people at the table were screaming as the monstrosity tore them apart, a few look resigned to their fate as if they had faced this many times before. Last thing I remembered is me running through the hall, the previously beautiful walls now looked like sun bleached bone, I vomited as I realized my clothing was made of some type of hair. The drink I had been drinking had turned into blood with bits of tissue floating in it, or perhaps it had been that from the start.
I reached a man in a grand uniform and a face that looked perfect. It looked as if he was a statue, every feature was perfectly shaped except his eyes which resembled plastic bags filled with muck taken out of a sewer. He told me I could not leave the hotel so I took off running once again. The halls formed a labyrinth that I could not escape. I eventually burst out into the courtyard and looked around, it was empty except for the beautiful woman. She stepped towards me with a happy smile on her face.
Her pitch black hair blew in the breeze as she closed the distance, her eyes now having the look of a predatory animal like a wolf or a lioness. The last thing I heard was a chorus that echoed across the barren land "Welcome to the Hotel California..." | 2019-01-29T15:31:09 | 2019-01-29T13:26:59 | 78 | 37 |
[WP] Death has been flirting with you for a long time, but they've become rather annoying. After another attempt to hang out with you again, you jokingly tell them "If I was the last person on Earth, I'd maybe give you a chance." Death firmly believes on that, and will double their work. | Its doings were as subtle as the whispers of the wind, smooth as the murmur of a far away river, for in a silent, mundane night, it snatched every soul away.
Every single one, but mine.
I woke up early, the sun still hidden beneath the horizon. I would love to say something odd stirred within me, a foreboding of some sort, but that was not the case.
What woke me were its timbreless words, wrapped around a breath colder than ice.
"It is done," Death said.
I didn't understand what it meant, but still I clutched at my heart, for its bones were dismal, and its hollowness palpable. I sought for sentences and words, something to avoid the silence, something to melt the fear away, but I only found a memory spinning, over and over again, in the vast emptiness of my mind.
It had happened two months ago, when Death had come and given me a bouquet of rose-shaped souls. For reasons beyond my understanding, I had told it that if there was a chance for us to fall in love, that would be when no one was alive. And deep down, I knew that memory had remained for a reason. Perhaps the words it had spoken, had made it settle and whirl, but truth was, reason didn't matter now.
I pushed through the fear, through the knot within me, and at last, on the verge of tears, I said, "What did you do?"
Death held out his hand, and on it rested a golden ring with a great stone full of swirling colors. "There is no one alive, but you. Now our love can bloom. This is the proof. Every soul lays within that stone, and every single one I gift to you."
Through trembling hands, I held the ring. It was beautiful. My eyes wandered along the teetering colors, and in the space of a breath, the ring, the room, everything faded into an iridescent river, and in its tender currents I swam and sang, before a question shattered my reverie.
At last, I looked at Death, and the question flowed out my mouth, "Why?"
Death tilted its head, and two small twinkles of light shone in the hollows of his eyes. "Love is something the eternities never taught me. I witnessed it many times--countless times, but I never understood it. That was until I saw you, and like a key in a lock, everything opened before me. In that moment desire grew within me, and that desire was to feel the warmth of someone's love. And that someone was you.
"Many times I came to you, and many times you broke my heart. In doing so you taught me that love and souls are different, for love can't be snatched away. Love is much greater, for it has to be nurtured, word by word, action by action, and even then it may not bloom. I did what you asked me, and even now, I see the doubt in your eyes. Perhaps you will never love me, but I had to try. And if I went too far, shatter the ring, and tomorrow everyone will wake up."
I didn't hesitate. I threw the ring to the ground, and crashed it with a stomp. It made no noise when it broke, but the colors billowed away in a parade of wisps and tendrils.
"I see you have taken your decision," Death said, his voice tarnished with grief. "So this is what pain feels like. I apologize for my actions, but just know, my love will always be yours." With that, he walked away.
"Wait," I said, and held its hand.
"I never said no."
------------------------------
r/NoahElowyn
| "No," I said.
Her onyx eyed opened wide. Her face, placid, porcelain, a skin mask tugged tight across her conceptual space twisted into a confused frown. "No?"
"No!" I said. "Go away!" I gestured at the door. I didn't know where the corpse was. I didn't /want/ to know where the corpse was. But I knew there was one nearby. She always had a job nearby.
It was how Death worked.
"Hmmm..." Death hummed, clicking her fingers together. Her nails were cracked and picked down into the flesh, beaded and bloodied.
Working hard, at least. I had that going for her.
Life was easier before I'd tried to ghost Death.
"I was just in the neighborhood," Death said, stepping inside. "I wanted to see if you wanted to come with me for the next stop."
I pinched the bridge of my nose. Not that I could smell, I'd lost that years ago, but it helped with the building migraine. "I really don't," I muttered, then rolled my eyes, turning away from her.
She swept through without making a sound. Her feet were nothing but suggestions, after all, and she slid into the kitchen. The fridge door opened, and she raffled through it. "You should really eat better."
"You're Death, shouldn't you be telling me to eat worse?" I asked, putting my hands over my ears.
"I'm A Death, not Death. There's a difference, and you know it." Death replied, smoothly. She cracked off the top of a beer bottle and poured it into the void behind her teeth. "Blegh, this is awful."
"Then why did you drink it?!" I hissed at her.
"Obviously, I did it because I wanted to," Death replied, sliding over to the couch. She made herself at home over it, her robes kept over top of her skin. It didn't exist until someone looked at it.
It'd come up when we were actively dating. Which we weren't. Even if she still had the key to my house.
"I am," I said. "90% sure that we called it off."
"You called it off," Death said, "Because I wasn't doing a good enough job. We're working on that, by the way, really, HQ is impressed I'm taking initiative and flagging targets instead of waiting for them."
My fingers twitched, and I walked over to the window, peering out into the night. Inky, stars dappled the heavens like buckshot, the moon half eaten by a neighboring skyscraper, the spire impaling whatever god was still up there that was laughing at me.
They had to be laughing, Death had made copies of my fucking apartment key.
"Sure, whatever," I said. "So how's the job going?"
"Might be getting a promotion," Death said, offhand. She turned on the tv and flicked through the news. "Stuff's going down on the coast line, they need a few more deaths on their feet and working on it."
I breathed out. It turned into mist as it drifted out the window and into the sky some seven stories high. "So you're leaving?" I asked.
"Hopefully not," Death said. "I'd have to drag you with me, and I really don't want to burn through my favors just like that."
I growled and hissed at her like a damn cat, turning to glare at her. With the single light from the bulb overhead, she positively glowed like a barn owl, her eyes as dark as pitch. Her fingers played across the remote like a piano.
"Wouldn't the angels be angry at that?"
"Something something judgement day. You know how it is."
"Ughhhhhhh..." I rolled my neck back and stared up at the ceiling instead of looking at her again. She was going to be coy again.
Honestly, she'd been the best girlfriend I'd ever had, even if I'd ended up breaking up with her over the cannibalism thing, and the whole angels holding me at gun point thing.
"How's your work?" Death asked, lilting her tone cutely.
It'd've been cute if it wasn't from Death, but... whatever.
"Decent. Fugging black team offed the project head, so we've been set back six months, but hey, that means I've got like six months more to work."
"Rough, he didn't die that well. Gurgled for like six hours in a small room hoping someone would hear him."
I stared out the window. Surely the fire escape would hold me.
"It won't," Death replied. "You're stuck with me unless you try to leave."
"Oh my god."
"He's dead too," Death pointed out.
"Do you have literally anything to do rather than drink my beer and watch Netflix."
"Not for another two hours," Death said. "How's the medium business?"
I closed my eyes and gave up on not having this conversation, throwing myself onto the couch next to her. She gave me a cool look.
"Are we being serious now?" I asked.
"We are! You can see Death. That's exciting." Death said. "You should do something like that. Talk to the dead or something."
This was the 17th time we'd had this conversation. This was the 12th time after I'd figured out she wasn't just a goth, and was a literal actual Death, which just made it all the more awkward.
It explained why her skin was perpetually cold at least.
But well...
I could see every Death. At car accidents, I could see Death crawl out of the ground like a hoard of spiders. Murders? Death emerging from their wounds and drops of blood, congealing together like the world's worst licorice bundles.
Maybe I didn't want to commercialize that. That seemed like a really bad way to go, especially since Angels were patrolling the city.
Again, I didn't want to meet up with them. Not if I didn't have to. Not capitalizing on seeing Death was working out for me. For the most part.
My only problem was I'd decided to speak the one I'd seen waiting at the side of a traffic accident for people to clear out, playing on a smart phone.
It was stupid, even if she was cute.
Death smiled at me.
I glared at her.
She flicked over to Netflix. Dead Like Me.
God fucking dammit.
She was still cute.
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for more like this
https://old.reddit.com/r/Zubergoodstories/ | 2019-03-30T15:14:07 | 2019-03-30T15:13:15 | 641 | 92 |
[WP]A brave knight hunts an infamous dragon, and local villagers spend days telling him not to pursue his quest, to no avail. Eventually, one villager gets fed up and says, "Look us and the lizard have a good thing going here. Don't ruin it." | "Tax season?!"
Sir Biglesby's eyes almost popped right out of his head as he whipped his visor back and glared at the cowering peasant. "What do you mean tax season?"
"Look," the scrawny man hastily gulped. "A big terrifying lizard does count as a 'natural disaster' and under Section 13, Subsection 3, Paragraph 3a, item iv, losses due to natural disasters are tax-deductible."
"But that dragon burned and pillaged your fields!"
"Umm... Sure... The premiums are higher than normal based on actuarial deductions but... What if said dragon gave a teeny weeny... *Notoutrightinsurancefraudandcollusiontype...* Of heads-up that the farmers do an early harvest to cover the difference and the claims are adjusted by the insurance adjustor anyway..." the small man offered a toothy grin.
Sir Biglesby tried to wrap his mind around the concept of actuarial losses, casualty tables and loss-given-defaults. "But... But..." he spluttered "The damage... And loss of life?"
"Weeeeelllll..." the peasant shuffled uncomfortably, "Since there's technically no deaths... And we can always opt out of the individual mandate now with no tax penalties... That's not really a concern."
Sir Biglesby could have almost choked on the brazen indifference towards bureaucratic government-mandated joint insurance pool.
" Plus..." the man continued, "We got a good side economy going here."
"Yes, I noticed the gaudy large gift shop near the entrance.
The peasant beamed proudly. "Yes, one of my ideas. You can get some wood carvings of the dragon, picture frames for the missus, dragon claws and scales... You know... Souvenirs for the tourists..." he was cut short by the outburst from the reddening Knight.
"What do you mean tourists!?" he roared.
"Ahem... You know, curious people... The gawker, busybodies and families who come here for the adventure..." the peasant quickly glanced over his shoulder. "But don't worry, the claws and scales are mostly fake stuff, cow horns and polished stones, they can't tell the difference anyway. But if you want the good stuff... The real genuine stuff, I can hook you up. It's a bit pricey but that's because we are short of supply... The dragon only clips its toenails once a month and sheds twice a year... Only 10 gold pieces for a scale necklace and 15 gold pieces for a genuine toenail."
Sir Biglesby gulped. 10 gold pieces is more than enough to feed a family for a year.
" Look..." the peasant hastily added, "It's the cost of things you know, scarcity, shipping and handling, craftsmanship and royalties."
"What royalties?"
The peasant shuffled and looked down at his feet. "The dragon wants a 30% cut..."
Sir Biglesby was at an absolute loss for words.
"Look, tell you what..." the peasant gave him a wide toothy grin as he wrapped an arm over the knight's shoulders. "Why don't you think of this as a holiday? Spend some coin at the gift shop, stay in one of our many resorts and take a long stroll around the countryside. I can even get you a VIP pass at the casino... There's even a dragon museum for you to visit. You can also pick up some dragon-slaying equipment for posterity, of course a Knight like you can get a referral discount from a tour guide like me, and put it as dragon-slaying expenses..."
Sir Biglesby shook his head as the man rambled on.
"And when it's all said and done, you can always challenge the dragon... It charges 100 gold pieces to throw a fight and you will have a good story to tell the King, plus some scales and toenails to show for your gallant deeds. Then the dragon will take a month-long vacation to the south and you have successfully driven it off and we can do this again next year..."
Sir Biglesby couldn't help but be led away to the nearest tavern as the peasant continued, "By the way, I could also hook you up with some wenches... That's if you're into that... They would love to hear some great stories from a heroic knight like you..." | The purposeless Wisgarius trudged, unthinking, along the sole road out of the small town of Edgewood, staring only at his shadow, cast by the full moon at his back. His purpose, for the last 10 years, was simple: Kill Aerlaes, Bringer of Death. Kill the damned dragon that killed his father, Hildebrant the Brave, leaving behind only the scabbard Wisgarius now leaned on with every step. The conversation that robbed him of this goal concluded just a few minutes ago.
“What do you mean, you’ve got a good thing going? This dragon has slain men! The town of Meadowbrook turned to ruins in one night because this foul beast willed it so! How can you defend this… this monster?!”
Marvin Omenblood raised his hand with a smile before gesturing towards the now-empty stool in front of him.
“Noble hero, please. Take a seat. Not everything is as it seems. Take me, for example. My family name begets unease, and understandable it is, but I daresay I have treated you with unmatched kindness and respect. Granted, your miraculous uh… Egg-Jessel brought my father back, but it is what it is, eh?” Marvin glanced at his father. The man was audibly snoring, after years of lifelessness.
It wasn’t too odd for Marvin to keep his father in bed, alive, but also not alive, for so long; in fact, it was quite understandable. Before it was eradicated a decade prior, the Noxotta flower claimed many tens of victims, placing them in a completely comatose but non-deteriorative state. And while Yggdrasil sap, the sole cure, was difficult to come by for poorer folk, it merely took one generous adventurer passing through to save the day. Many towns closer to the capital had had their Noxed population fully cured. When Wisgarius arrived 2 days earlier, he took pity on Marvin and his father, missing his own, and offered his second-to-last bottle of sap.
Still quite annoyed, but now slightly intrigued, Wisgarius took a seat.
“Yggdrasil. The sap I gave him was extracted from Yggdrasil. But go on. What could I possibly be missing?”
“Noble hero, like a plague, misinformation spreads wildly and indiscriminately. The town of Meadowbrook succumbed to an army of orcs passing through, not Aerlaes.”
“Aerlaes, Bringer of Death,” Wisgarius corrected.
Marvin sighed. “Please, hero, allow me to finish.” He took a sip from his cup before continuing. “Now, as I was saying, Aerlaes was not the cause of Meadowbrook’s demise. In fact, the dragon laid the orcs to rest shortly after the incident. I know this because I was there. My father and I originally hail from Meadowbrook. We were returning from the capital when we saw smoke rising from the town’s direction. We rushed to the nearest hills, and from there we saw the atrocities the orcs were committing. And we could do nothing. We were not equipped. If we had tried to help, we would have been slain as well. We camped out on the hill until the orcs left, but they were marching briskly in our direction. This is when, by some miracle, Aerlaes flew in from behind us and laid waste to the orcs!”
Wisgarius was not impressed. “Okay, let’s say the Bringer of Death didn’t destroy Meadowbrook. It still didn’t \*save\* it. It is still a dragon, a threat to be neutralized! It has killed men!”
Marvin remained unsettled. “Think, hero. Of all disasters Aerlaes is claimed to have caused, which can you prove?”
“Hildebrant the Brave! The greatest knight of Dinaria’s history, slain in his sleep in the woods just outside this town! Not even his bones remained!” Wisgarius was again standing, twitching with anger. He did not even care what the man in front of him would reply. No circumstance could forgive the dragon’s deed. He had just about left the hut when Marvin’s next words forced him to return to his seat.
“Ahh, yes, I remember Hildebrant. He was the first to come to attempt to slay Aerlaes. The look on your face tells me you didn’t know that. Ah, that’s right, the story was that he was traveling to the furthest cities from the capital in search of talent. No no, he made it clear he was here to slay the dragon, but we made sure to tell him that was unacceptable. You see, Aerlaes protected this town. Not directly, but ever since he settled in the--whoops, almost let that slip--but anyway, after Meadowbrook, other creatures avoid this area. I’m sure you noticed that within a radius of half a day’s ride on horseback there are no troublesome creatures to be found. We like that security. And after word of Hildebrant’s demise went around, travellers like yourself started arriving, hoping to be the one to slay him. Meaning more business for us and great trade! You’re the first to have Yggdrasil to spare, though.”
“Wait wait wait wait wait. I’m listeneing, but I'm still not hearing anything proving me wrong about the creature and Hildebrant, let alone the other adventurers he’s slain.”
Marvin’s face went grim, and he replied matter-of-factly, “Listen hero, if the dragon disappears, as does our safety, our business, everything. No one has a reason to travel this far if not for the dragon. I mean, at first, it was just to keep Aerlaes around for protection, but warrior after warrior kept coming and so many refuse to get turned away peacefully! So we handle the stubborn ones and ditch their belongings in the woods. Say the dragon did it, attract more eager heroes. I figure it further deters the smaller creatures. It’s my turn; I was supposed to poison you tonight and throw you to the dogs, but you saved my father so I’m letting you go. It’s not personal, really. I hope you understand. We cannot give up our protector.”
Wisgarius was doing everything he could to contain his anger. He needed an answer, and he knew would not get it if he snapped too soon. “Clever. I must assume Hildebrant met his end in this fashion?”
“Poor man. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. My father was the one, actually, he invited him in for tea and to ‘divulge the location of the beast’, but Hildebrant was good; he got my father with a Noxotta dart before the poison fully ki--”
Marvin’s head landed on the floor at about the same time the distraught knight’s sword thrust into the throat of the man in bed.
“It’s done, father.” | 2019-04-15T02:06:44 | 2019-04-15T01:57:58 | 46 | 15 |
[WP] The hero shows up at the villains doorstep one night. Theyre shivering bleeding scared. They look like they were assaulted. Looking up at the villain, swaying slightly, close to passing out, they mumble “didn’t know where else to go” then collapse into the villains arms. |
He was in my arms, unconscious, bleeding all over my expensive night robe, Powerbuster. My Egyptian silk night robe would never be the same.
I should have taken a step back. Let him fall face first in his spandex in front of this quiet suburban neighborhood. Let the police find him. But I held on. Because of his weight.
He weighed so little.
In our fights, he always threw stuffs at me. Telephone poles, cars, buses. I thought he would have weighed a ton, but here resting on my chest, he weighed like any teenage boy.
How old was he? Eighteen? He was barely an adult.
I pulled him inside and rested him on the couch. No time to put plastic sheet on. Alexandria would have yelled at me for this, if she still lived.
I checked his neck and spine. He shouldn’t be able to move if he was injured, but you never knew with superheroes. I checked his head for trauma. Lit a flashlight under his eyes.
Then, gently, I removed his superhero spandex.
I held my breath.
Having tough skin as my superpower, I never thought about wounds, but looking at Power—no, looking at Brent Buster as a boy for the first time shook me. His body was bruised and cut with healing scars. Missing patches of skin here and there, keroids on another.
I spotted the newest wound, blunt object at the chest. Ribs cracked. The blood I saw at first was actually minor. He probably flew into some glasses after he was hit.
I sucked in my breath. This was why I hated superheroes.
No, I didn’t hate the people performing the job, but I hate how they were portrayed. People worshiped so much. Expect so much. These kind of expectation broke boys and girls, crushing them under. Most superheroes never thought of it, but I wonder if they knew deep down.
One day, all of them would find a supervillain they could not beat.
This was why I quitted. This was why I dedicated my time overthrowing all the superhero schools, the trainings, the organizations. I never wanted a superhero. I wanted them to be seen as what they truly were.
They were children.
I bandaged his wound and pumped my healing magic into the young hero. Praying to my elder gods that gave me such powers.
And I waited for him to wake up.
Maybe I could help the superheroes. One at a time. Until all knew the truth. | Outside behind my bar with their head down, sat the hero everyone adored and cheered for. Though they were dressed in their everyday clothing, I knew them. Their real identity. It's why I quit being a villain, I didn't have the heart to fight a kid this young. They were 14 when I learned of their age, when I decided to get my shit in order, and make something of myself. Seeing them like this now made that guilt well back up, reminding me of the piece of murderous trash I was.
I approached, trying to stay as nonchalant as one could be in this situation, and kicked their foot, "Hey, kid. You can't sleep here. Go home." I told them, not wanting to see them anymore. Their head rolled limply, as they fell onto their side, looking worse than any trouncing they received from any villain in this city; their face black and blue, nose bleeding, cheeks sunken, looking like they hadn't eaten for days.
My heart stopped, was the kid dead? I panicked, as I dropped the garbage I was bringing out, and shook them, "Hey… hey kid!" I yelled, "S-shit… an ambulance…" I stammered as I fumbled with my phone.
The kids eyelids flickered a bit, "Don't…" they said as they weakly covered the phone, "I'm okay…" they smiled brightly, most certainly to reassure me, "I'll… I'll leave…" they added as they struggled to get up. I watched, frozen for a moment reminded of every time they would get up during our fights. I felt disgusted with myself once again.
Frustration boiled up inside of me as I grabbed the kid, "Just get inside, idiot." I growled, pissed at myself. Were they like this back then too? After our fights? Stupid kid. Kids shouldn't have to put on a brave face. "Fuck." I cursed as I dragged the kid to the side of the building that was my home. I threw them onto the couch, and grabbed a tupperware of leftover pasta out of the fridge. "Eat." I commanded as I stormed out of the room. I could hear the kid thank me, as I stomped back over to the bar.
The rest of the work night was a blur filled with dread, and self loathing. I hated the villain that did this to the kid, but at the same time, I used to be the villain who would do that. I could feel my jaw clench everytime I wanted to punch myself.
Once the last customer filtered out of the bar, my heart was pounding with dread. It was like I had forgotten how to breath as I closed up shop. I had to go back into that room, past the kid, and be reminded of my monumental stupidity and worthlessness. I took a moment and forced myself to breathe. "Coward." I muttered to myself as I went inside my home.
There the kid was, looking a little more cleaned up, and smiling like the kind idiot they were.
"Thanks." They said as they gestured to the tupperware that was now clean and sitting next to the sink to dry.
I waved my hand dismissively, as if to say 'don't mention it,' because, I truly did not wish to talk with them. I didn't want to know. I tried walking past them, I really did, as they started crying, thanking me over and over. I stood there froze in place, as they poured their heart out to me.
Horrified? Sickened? Rage? I don't know which one would describe how I felt while the kid talked.
I didn't know what to say to them, as I stood there when they finished. The silence between us was crushing.
"S...sorry..." the kid said, holding back their tears. "I shouldn't have said anything… please… don't tell anyone…" they added as they seemed to curl up. "I don't want to get my parents in trouble…"
'Stupid idiot,' I thought to myself, 'say something!' I opened my mouth, "Stay as long as you like." I managed to say, before retreating to my bedroom. I had to be the biggest idiot coward of all. I ran away again. I was even too much of a coward to pay for my crimes, how could I be brave here? I punched my fist through my wall. "Fuck!" I muttered angrily. Stupid kid. stupid fucked up filthy world.
I laid for hours, as I stared at the ceiling, thinking about the kid. What the fuck was I supposed to do? I'm not a hero, damn it! I turned onto my side, frustrated. My eyes landed on my mirror, on my reflection. I grimaced, before I realised. I'm not a hero.
I shot up in bed, feeling solemn, as I briskly walked to my closet. 'It's been too long.' I thought as I pulled my villain costume out of my closet and donned it after all this time.
I'm no hero, I thought, as I took off into the night. I'm a murderer. | 2019-08-03T23:35:12 | 2019-08-03T22:13:24 | 335 | 235 |
[WP] In actuality, we are technologically far more developed than most alien species. Said alien species are baffled when they discover us and find out we somehow haven’t figured out space travel yet to the extent they have. | It was a spaceship made of coconuts.
When our captain first ordered that our vessel enter orbit around the new planet, the ship is the first thing we saw.
“This is absurd,” I said. “We have to be missing something."
We tried hailing the ship on all radio frequencies, but nothing was working. That’s when the Communications Officer saw that something was hitting against our airlock.
Cautiously, we brought it inside.
It was a long wire connected to half a coconut. The coconut had strange crystals all around it.
“You can’t be serious,” The Communications Officer said. She looked at the rest of the crew in disbelief as we all brought her the coconut. Out of habit, she adjusted her universal translator earing with her hand absently and brought her ear up to the coconut as the rest of the bridge crew looked in on her with fascination.
Words poured out of the coconut, which should in no way work. The Officer was so surprised she nearly dropped the device, whatever it was.
After listening to the words pouring through for a moment with an almost indescribable expression on her face, she patched her earing into the com.
“Why is your ship so slow?” The voice was asking. “Why aren’t you using go-fast crystals? How did you find such strange coconuts for your ship?”
Now it was the Communications Officer who was looking at the captain with an expectant look. As was the rest of the crew.
“Strange… coconuts?” He asked, an eyebrow reaching upward.
“I believe they mean the metal of our ship, sir,” I ventured.
In the meantime I continued to scan the ship in front of us which was somehow zipping around our own, even fading in and out of space like it was moving through wormholes, all without falling apart instantly and venting its entire crew into vacuum like it should.
If it was made of coconuts.
**
Reality Zero(www.reddit.com/r/realityzero)
(edit 1-minor clean up of errors) | "We are on approach; ready the lanterns! It will be dark down there!"
Several large headed, grey-skinned humanoids were turning valves and pulling levers as their ship approached an alien planet; behind them, several others were putting kerosene into lanterns.
Steam hissed as the ship touched down. The captain barked orders as four of his comrades donned air tight suits and large metal helmets with windows attached to a hand powered pump.
"Remember Krag, you have to keep a steady stream of CO2 pumped to their suits. We dont know if theres breatheable atmosphere out there." Krag nodded nervously and readied himself at the pump. The four adventurers were sealed between two airtight comparments and final checks were made.
The captain shouted. "Alright! Get the outer door open!"
There were very, very small windows that allowed the crew to peak through the compartment doors as the hatch slowly cranked down with hisses of steam. They were anxious to see what the planet looked like after a year of waiting. Would it be a barren waste? Or a potential home?
Lopon gripped the flag tightly in his gloved hand. He would be planting it after his commander stepped off ahead of him. He looked to his left and watched his friend Rast bring the hammer of his rifle to half cock before placing a percussion cap underneath it.
"Do you think there is life here, Commander?" He asked.
"Not a chance. Quit your worrying. No species capable of space flight has been documented this far out. Even if life did exist here, we both know it would be savage and primitive at best. Now quiet! Focus on the task."
The hatch had lowered like a draw bridge and provided a ramp to the surface. It was pitch black aside from the stars above and a distant glow on the horizon.
Rast became uneasy. "What is that light in the distance Commander?"
The commander was annoyed but he reassured his subordinates. "Its probably just this system's star rising or setting. Nothing to fear"
All four were motionless for a moment. The commander swayed back and forth before taking a step onto the ramp.
The exact second his boot made contact with the ramp, extremely bright lights blinded them from nowhere.
"Whaa! What's thi..." The commander was cutoff by a thunderous voice that echoed off the ship behind him and vibrated the floor: "UNITED STATES MILITARY POLICE! DONT MOVE! YOU ARE TRESPASSING IN A RESTRICTED ZONE. YOU ARE NOW UNDER ARREST."
All four of our intrepid adventurers slammed their backs to the door behind them and stood speechless for a moment. The aliens yelled at them in their strange, thunderous speech again. The four panicked and began pounding on the door to the ship.
*One month later*
The captain swiftly mounted the ramp to the ship and ordered it closed quickly. He wanted to leave this strange world behind.
"Glorp, dictate a telegram to be sent the moment we make port."
"Yes sir! Whenever youre ready."
To Pisonic High Admiralty Department,
We bring disturbing news from TX 137. The planet was not devoid of life as we expected. Far from it; a super advanced race dwells here. They refer to themselves as 'Humans.' They took several of our crew hostage the very moment we set down and interrogated them; these men have been returned and bring us astonishing news. The Humans possess technology that we can only begin to comprehend. They have rifles that can fire multiple self contained cartridges in rapid succession and ground and air vehicles which can travel faster than anything we have created except interstellar ships. They have mastered lighting and used it to power artificial lights. They can send telegrams without wires and even recieve voice communications from great distance! They have devices which can give them any information their people have uncovered in mere seconds. Somehow these creatures have surpassed any known life in the galaxy in terms of conventional technology, but they lack one important development.
Somehow they have not uncovered the secrets of interstellar flight. They have not even colonized the rest of their system yet. This expedition suggests we study them from afar and try to reverse engineer their technology. We must be careful not to land on the planet, however. We cannot risk letting them get a hold of one of our ships.
POST SCRIPT: This prompt seemed awesome but my reply is lack luster. I wanted to have the humans shoot the commander with a machine gun and make the aliens collectively sh;t themselves before running scared. However I went this route because the aliens wouldnt have learned anything about Earth except that it was hostile if I had gone with my OG concept. | 2019-10-04T23:08:31 | 2019-10-04T23:04:25 | 168 | 100 |
[WP] You are a child's "imaginary friend". You are a guardian angel. And your kid is really, really stupid. | Greetings once more, Child. I am Hadramiel, Angel Of He Who Is Named "I Am", who walks beside you with the compassion and grace of the Lord, and I am here to say unto you: Thou shalt not try to eat your lego blocks, thou little shit. Giveth me them.
Giveth them.
Mine name is Hadramiel, Majesty Of The Lord. It is not "Mr Shinypants". Thou Shalt stop drawing that crayon drawing of me. I do not play with kittens.
Thou shalt not sticketh thy crayons up thy nose, lest thee suffocate. Yea, thou should have learnt that by now, thou bloody moron.
Harken unto my message. I said harken unto it. *Stop putting things in your ears and harken*!
Ahem
Mine name is Hadramiel, Majesty Of The Lord, and thou hast been granted a great destiny in the will of the Lord to... wait. Where the *fuck* did you go?
How did thou get up a tree? Thou cannot get down? If only thou had stayeth near the Mighty Angel With Wings. Fine. Cometh here.
As I was saying- thou art up the tree again.
Lo, do I, Hadramiel, Majesty Of The Lord, say unto you "fuck this". Once More I ascend unto heaven to file a formal complaint.
Get thyself out of the tree, thou whiny brat.
\*sigh\*
Fine. I shalt show mercy and save thou, child.
Yea, thou may have a hug.
But next time thou behold a large frothing dog and decide thou must pet it, yea and verily, I'm *done* with this shit. | Even his sigh sounded like the most beautiful music you had ever heard, and Uriel seemed to sigh a lot recently. He currently took the form of a purple dragon with wings made of, and I quote, "big stinky butts" and a "big stinky butt" on his face.
He had been a guardian angel since the beginning of man. His services were called on every few centuries when a completely pure soul reached the earth and was born. His job was to protect this soul, nurture it and with care and guidance it could potentially become an angel when it reached the kingdom of heaven. The job was usually a joy, despite the immense responsibility of nurturing what could possibly become an infinitely powerful celestial being. He had performed his role for millennia with dignity and gusto and had a 100% success rate in producing new angels who would go on to make the universe a better place.
Uriel's secret was making sure that his ward was sublimely happy as a child. He knew the importance of a happy, healthy childhood and had a knack for entertaining children while educating them in morality and empathy and compassion. To do this he would take the form of whatever the child could imagine and guide them through the dizzying maze of youth to become a loving, caring adult.
But looking after Kevin was different. Kevin had an energetic personality and a unique sense of humour which had caused Uriel to take many forms which quite frankly pushed even his vast intellect. Usually he would become ponies or other children and once even a kindly old grandfather figure. Since Kevin reached 3 years old he has been a multitude of whimsical chimaeras, including a giant spider who spinarettes were a 5 Guys and span webs made of hamburgers, a sentient bluey orange fart cloud and a superhero called 'buttman' who's super power was butts. Uriel wondered where Kevin got this predaliction towards the human posterior but who was he to ruin a child's fun?
It wasn't just the derriere obsession that worried Uriel. Most of the children Uriel cared for were sweet, pensive youths, who were open to guidance and listened to his wise words. Kevin was currently pouring chocolate sauce onto the pepperoni hot pocket he had just pulled from the microwave and promptly dropped on the floor because he had forgotten would be hot, despite shouting 'HOT POCKETS' over and over as the timer reached zero. Kevin was 11 now, and way behind in school. He was obsessed with Fortnite and religiously watched Fred on YouTube. He regarded monster energy drinks with the reverence of a sommelier and frequently punched his pillows so he could one day reach what he considered to be the pinnacle of masculinity and "punch a hole in the dry wall".
Uriel was becoming increasingly frustrated. If Kevin continued down this path he would lose his perfect record. Nothing he had tried would work. Recently, in his desperation, he took the form of a beautiful young woman to try to get even one small life lesson across, but it had spectacularly backfired when Kevin ignored everything he was told and spent 45 minutes trying to impress her with his bionicle collection. It was Kevin's twelfth birthday tomorrow and his plan was to celebrate with his friends Kyle and Steve by throwing each other down the stairs. Uriel had tried to talk Kevin out of it but Kevin had just made fart noises at him until he stopped trying.
That night Uriel sat and watched the clock turn to midnight. As he waited he sensed something important was about to happen. All of a sudden 8 lights appeared before him, pulsing as the voice of the Metatron rang out.
"URIEL. RETURN TO HEAVEN. THERE WAS A MISTAKE WITH YOUR APPOINTMENT TO THIS CHILD. HE IS NOT A PURE SOUL. YOU WILL BE REASSIGNED... WHY DO YOU HAVE WINGS MADE OF BUTTOCKS? NEVER MIND. RETURN."
As quickly as they appeared the lights were gone. Uriel was shocked and relieved. The last 12 years, while a waste, were not a failure. He started his ascent to heaven, but then stopped. He suddenly felt reluctant to leave Kevin. Maybe there was a chance he could still become a fine man, if not a celestial being? As he floated there he looked down at Kevin, who while asleep looked as innocent as any he had ever cared for. Just as he had this thought Kevin stirred and mumbled "when I grow up, I want to be just like you PewDiePie". Uriel immediately realised the child was beyond saving and returned to heaven with unnecessary haste.
Happy cake day ;) | 2019-10-31T13:59:26 | 2019-10-31T13:23:12 | 245 | 99 |
[WP] As a survivor during a zombie apocalypse, you're unwillingly being protected by a vampire coven because you're their only sustainable food source for miles around. | I am Hope.
That is, at least, what the vampires have decided to call me. I used to be Melanie, but it’s been years since anyone has called me that, so I just go by Hope now.
The vampires call my name as my cage passes in the darkness. I can see their eyes peering from the shadows, glinting unnaturally in the moonlight. It reminds me of the way my cat used to watch me from the fence, a predator in the dark. My breath is mist on the cold night air, but as they pass, I cannot see theirs. I don’t know if they’re dead, not fully, but they’re not alive, either. The zombies don’t hunt them like they do me—it’s almost impossible for me to lose the tail of z once one’s found me. Thankfully, the vamps don’t like the idea of sharing, so it’s not much of a problem anymore.
I don’t know how many there are in the Coven; I can’t keep track. I’ve only been traveling with them for a few weeks, but so far, none have touched me. None are even allowed close to the cage they’ve got me in, except the ones leading the wagon the cage is strapped on. I don’t know why they’re saving me. They’ve found other humans since they caught me, ones not zombies yet, but they just ate those guys. I thought they were going to save them, too, but no. Just me.
We only travel by night. The vamps can go in sunlight, but they don’t like it. It makes them weaker, irritable. They fight a lot more, and some end up dead. We only travel in the day when we have to, when theres a big hoard around, and the zombies are impossible to avoid. The vampires leave no survivors, aside from the ones who are tainted. Those they don’t eat—they don’t get sick from the virus, but they hate the taste of it, apparently. Maybe that’s why the don’t touch me.
The vamps are fascinated by my bite. I know why. I survived. For the first year I tried like hell to find someone to tell, to let them know that hey, I might be immune. But then I nearly got killed again, and again, *and again*. And so, I stopped trying. But the vamps, when they found me that first night, it was the first thing that they saw. A bite, *a scar*.
“Hope,” they’d called me.
At least someone has some, now. | Angela’s teeth sank deep into Isabella’s neck, two drops of blood pushed out and dripped down her pale skin. For a moment Isabella’s mind started to swim, the cavern that they were in turned and twisted and spun until finally, she took a deep breath, feeling like herself again.
“Thanks,”Angela muttered while she walked away, content.
“Feeling ok, Isabella?” Gunter asked, as the head vampire appeared over the human. Isabella didn’t reply straight away, too focused on Angela who now floated above her bed, eyes closed, pretending to sleep like she liked to do.
“Yeah, just that one took a lot out of me,” admitted Isabella, as she fidgeted with her hands, unable to look the vampire in his eyes. Instead she looked around at her new home. *Can’t believe it’s been two weeks already.* The sound of the waterfall crashing down in the cavern joining this one rang through the rocks. The smell of the saltwater and the smoke from the fire which burned every day and night, clung to her nostrils. Between the mattresses and the tables, there wasn’t much else of note...aside from the growing pile of corpses that grew larger everyday. The adjoining cavern would soon have to be emptied but no doubt the zombies would find a way in and then they'd pile high once more.
“Well, we’ll make sure we don’t take anymore for a while, won't we Angela?” Gunter called out, waking Angela from her ‘slumber’.
“Of course, of course Gunter,” she moaned, her eyes barely open to look at her leader. “I’ll make sure not to get hungry for the next while.”
“Better not,” replied Gunter quickly. “This zombie apocalypse might be the death of us. If we can’t find another human then…
“Then what?” asked Isabella, her heart starting to race. Gunter only smiled at her with his great big grey eyes. Eyes full of sympathy.
“Then I fear myself and Angela might pass on through this world onto the next life. Whatever that may be.”
Angela shot Gunter a look, a look of surprise. *That was news to her* Isabella thought to herself. *That one has no intention of dying before I do*. Gunter probably doesn’t either. She thought about a show she used to watch before the zombies had come and run riot over the world. A fantasy show, one of main characters was describing the perfect way to butcher an animal was to kill it quickly with a knife it never see’s before it can start to panic. This way, the meat isn't spoiled by the animals' fear. *That is what is happening to me. They don’t want to ruin my good blood*. Her only hope was that they’d find a group of fresh humans to suck on.
*Sooner rather than later.*
A rattling of rocks rang out from the entrance hall and all eyes fell on the door. The three of them, Isabella and the two vampires, held their breath. Finally, the rattling stopped and the door swung open.
“Bryan!” Angela shouted as she ran to kiss her boyfriend. *Oh I heard of you*. Bryan had been away hunting for the past three weeks, searching far and wide for fresh blood.
“Angela!” he replied, as he lifted her off the ground and floated in the air. After a brief moment, they gently touched the cave floor again and Bryan’s eyes fell on the human.
“Oh is this the human I heard you guys found a couple of weeks ago?” Bryan asked, not taking his eyes off her.
“This is Isabella, Bryan,” Gunter introduced, “But what of the hunt?” A silence filled the air as Bryan looked at Gunter, gulping as he took a seat on his mattress.
“Not good, boss,” answered Bryna finally. “The whole world has gone to shit. I found some humans but to be honest it’s not what you want to hear.”
“Meaning?” Angela asked, looking from her boyfriend then to Gunter and back to Bryan.
“They know about us somehow,” sighed Bryan. “So not only are they on guard from the zombies but also the vampires now. They’re saving all their garlic and collecting a bunch of crosses. Was a real nightmare to find that out.”
“So what you're saying is…” Gunter started.
“We’re screwed,” Bryan smiled sadly. The three vampires bowed their heads in thoughts for a minute, all thinking about their own mortality. Gunter rubbed his chin as Angela paced about the floor while Bryan tapped his foot.
“You could talk to those humans?” asked Isabella, “Send me out to let them know you’re good guys?” An immediate explosion of laughter broke out, continuing on long after Isabella thought it might.
“Ok Isabella, you are hilarious!” Angela exclaimed. “Too bad we can’t keep you.” Gunter’s eyes landed on Isabella before a sly smile passed his lips.
“W...W...What?” stammered Isabella, backing up until her back was against the wall.
“Well I haven’t eaten in so long,” Bryan complained, rubbing his stomach while looking at Gunter. The head vampire only shrugged and turned away.
“Well, then,” beamed Bryan. “Don’t worry, I won’t take much!” | 2021-11-06T12:38:49 | 2021-11-06T11:17:35 | 233 | 129 |
[WP] Your body was the host for the Dark Lord. People know that you yourself didn't do anything wrong, but having the face of a tyrant makes people wary around you. After his defeat, and having been freed, you kept his powers and muscle memory, makes being a reclusive hunter easier at least. | Julia looked at the youth kneeling before her. He shivered slightly with one knee in the deep snow, his tattered black robe barely keeping the wind off his skin.
"Former Dark Lord," she said with an exasperated sigh.
"Pardon me, your Voidship?" The youth looked up at her with a slack jaw, his eyes flitting about and refusing to make contact with her own.
"I'm not the Dark Lord. I'm the Former Dark Lord. Not even that, since the Dark Lord's soul has been exorcised and shredded in the Void of Souls. I'm just Julia."
The first few months had been a constant stream of sycophants. She had blasted a few of the most eager into dust but that had just ended up encouraging the rest. When she'd moved out to the middle of the woods most of them had got the point and those that had not been captured or turned over a new leaf had glommed together into their own little dark armies, each fronted by a surviving lieutenant or in a few cases a particularly ambitious mook.
"I understand the story that the unfaithful have spread. But I recognize that raven hair, that aquiline nose, those dark piercing eyes, and those thin bloodless lips. The face of the Dark Lord, your face, appears every night in my dreams."
Julia took a step back and felt her nose with both hands. She was reasonably sure that this boy didn't know what aquiline meant.
"Stand up and go away. I came out here to be away from all of you. All of you— leftovers."
The youth stood and gave a wink. "Ah, I understand, my Lord— I mean Former Lord. The forces of light truly did defeat you."
"They really did."
He looked over his shoulder, gave a knowing nod, and continued speaking in an elevated voice. "Yes. Those fu— friendly elves and their chosen one were too strong for you. Even this blood sacrifice you have hanging here is of no use."
"Blood sacrifice?" Julia turned to look where he pointed. "That's a deer. It's dinner for the next three weeks. All I do is hunt out in the woods now. You can drop the act. There is nobody listening."
The youth dropped back down to a knee. "Ah, you have shielded our conversation, my Lord. I should have known."
"No, I haven't— That's... ugh." Julia shook her head. She hadn't had to blast anyone in months, but this stupid kid was getting on her nerves.
"What task do you have for me, my Lord."
"You're what? Eighteen? Nineteen? Just... go to school."
"That doesn't seem very dark. Is this part of a cunning plan?"
"Um... yes. Law school. Go to law school."
The youth shot upright. "Very evil indeed, my Lord. I shall go at once."
As the boy ran off, Julia shouted after him. "Don't contact me, I'll contact you."
\[More at r/c_avery_m\] | “Most people hate themselves. They look at their reflection and wish for longer hair, thicker beard, to be taller, to be shorter, for a longer sword, a shorter sword if it’s too long — anything but what they have, really.
I wish I had a simple self hatred.
Some people don’t know, but five years back, I was going about my business, plain and simple cliche farm boy wandering the woods. Picking apples, imagining wood nymphs, dreaming of adventure — everything you’d read — and then, long story short — boy in woods found a stone glowing black, and picked up said stone because a kind invisible voice said I should and it’d be fun. Fill in the blank — five years later I wake up naked in the Kings hall with five old beaded men over me. Can you believe that.
I find it fare to disclose they were Wizards of the highest class and not diddlers.
The evil wizard that passed me - whose name I refuse to recall on principle, so henceforth he will be called Dickface - had vanished a few hundred years back.
Five years I was in darkness as his soul used my body to nearly take over the Kingdom.
And now everyone fears me.
Which I don’t really mind. What I do mind is not everyone fears me.
Apparently Dickface had a few romances. Believe that. Here I was, an average looking guy set to inherit a decent farm, and couldn’t get the interest of the make believe women in my daydreams, but Dickface had a whole harem of women.
Maybe they were cursed, a logical person would think. And that would make sense. But we don’t live in a logical world. Sad to think I lost my virginity and partook in orgies that if not for the context of evil world domination would have been a major high point of my life.
This brings us to Jen’dfee Dofeman who I now call Jennifer.
Pure crazy. She’s in love with me. Claims a part of Dickfaces soul still drives me. How else could I wield such power, she says.
While I have to say, I don’t like pulling that thread. I’m not smart enough to find holes in some of what she says, so I just accept I’m now a powerful wizard.Looking up, I get to use said skills to do a pretty cool job. I’m a hunter.
High priced bounties. Actually pretty good gig when you have fear baked into every encounter.
Negative side, after two months I’m still not sure what I’m doing when I summon and cast magic. Is that right? Cast magic? Might be cast spells. Yeh, that sounds better. Which brings me to you. Why I’m here.”
A man bearing similarities to a redwood tree leans back in his barstool, a broad axe with blood dried on the double bladed edges rests across his lap.
“See, I know in a physical match - I stand no chance with someone of your ferocity.”
“Thank you,” the redwood nods humbly.
“But, all I have to do is cast some magic -“
“- spells,” the redwood interrupts.
“Ah, good correction, thank you. Spells. And the fight would be done before you stand up.”
“Your point?” the bounty asks.
“Well, admittedly I don’t know what I’m doing with spells quite yet. Still a rookie. Like a horse that can run fast but can’t control all four legs. So while my intention would be to disarm you, I have accidentally killed a few bounties — all by accident of course — I’m no murder — it’s just, well,” the hunter shrugs, “I don’t really -“
“-know what you’re doing.”
“Working on it, yes” he nods.
“So you told me all this, in the hopes I would just turn myself over to you, no fight at all.”
“That is correct, yes sir.”
“You know how many men I’ve killed?”
The hunters eyes go wide - “I do, yes” he pulls out the bounty scroll, and unrolls it on the bar, it’s comically long. “And not just killed - you’ve done some really bad stuff up north.”
“All to other bad people,” the redwood man spits out in a hurry. “I never hurt no women or children.” He shouts to the tavern over his shoulder.
“Very admirable,” the hunter says to the patrons. “But still. You know. Crimes.”
The redwood man huffs.
Before either men can register the movement, the redwood mans head smacks against the bar, again and again, and he’s tossed unconscious to the ground.
The hunter rolls his eyes. Over the man stands a women in tattered black robes — by design not poverty — her hair red and short and slicked back.
“Dang it Jennifer. I had this one.”
She flips the man on his belly and lashes his arms together. “You were taking so damn long though my love.”
“I was doing it my way.”
“Hunters shouldn’t talk that much,” she says.
“Maybe,” he mumbles, “that’s how I hunt.”
“It’s okay, my love.”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t ok.”
Jennifer waves a hand and casts a spell and the redwood man levitates to waist level and she guides him towards the door.
“I’ll get him loaded in the wagon.”
“Okay,” the hunter says with the cadence of a bitter teenager.
He looks up and sees the tavern of folks, all silent, staring at him, in terror.
He smiles.
“Sorry about Jennifer,” he says and heads towards the door but quickly doubles back to drop coin for the drinks on the bar and smiles hopefully at the bartender, then leaves.
\----
r/wyrdfiction | 2022-01-04T13:50:03 | 2022-01-04T12:37:59 | 85 | 53 |
[WP] You've just died and you find yourself sat across from death. After shuffles some papers he says "You've served your sentence. You're free". | Echoes from the stinging swarm of insects that had overwhelmed him were still flashing through Tom’s mind when he found himself sitting in an uncomfortable chair across from a pale skeletal woman in black robes. Tom reflexively swatted at his own arm trying to squash a bug that was no longer there.
Death stopped shuffling through her papers and looked up. “Tom is it? That whole business with the death by wasps wasn’t my idea, I just wanted you to know.”
Tom put on a nervous smile, “Well thanks… I guess? Am I dead?”
“Yes, and for the final time you’ll be glad to know. You’ve served your sentence and you are free.” She gestured toward the large oak door set in the wall across from her desk and behind Tom.
Tom turned in his chair to look at the door. At that moment memories of every life he had ever lived flooded back to him. He remembered countless lives where he had loved and lost and died. The emotions nearly broke him.
Easing himself up from the chair Tom walked over to the door and opened it to reveal an endless, black void that pulled at him mentally and physically. The urge to leap was nearly overwhelming.
He slammed the door. “What is that? Why would I want to go there?”
Death looked surprised. “It’s oblivion. A permanent release from the suffering of life.”
“Permanent? What about Heaven? Or Hell? Where will my soul go?”
“It won’t ‘go’ anywhere. You’ll cease to exist and finally escape the wheel.”
“What?! That’s what you call free? Can’t I go back and live again?”
Death put her face into her bony palm and sighed, “You know people used to look forward to this moment when they could finally escape the endless struggle. Ever since you humans discovered technology and culture things have become too soft on your side. No one wants to cease existing anymore. Well, almost no one.”
“Is it such a bad thing for life to not suck?” Tom asked.
“For you, no. But for me it just creates more and more work. Do you know how many souls are being created every cycle? I have to process them all. Every. Single. One. When you stubborn people don’t accept the jaws of nonexistence my job gets harder and harder.”
Tom put his hands on his hips and scrunched his eyebrows together. “Well I don’t wanna. Send me back.”
“Fine. Fine! If you want to go back you need to accept another full sentence, one thousand years of existence.” Death opened the drawer in her desk and pulled out a stamp with steam rolling off of it. She slammed it down on the paper in front of her.
“Great! That’s per-” Tom’s words were cut off as the ground disappeared beneath him and he fell towards a speck of light that gradually grew until it consumed him. He was faintly aware of being held up by a doctor in a bright room before he began to cry and his conscious memory receded. | That was a dumb way to go. I died because I had choked on a piece of peanut. I didn't even like peanuts. I just ate one cause I was hungry and bored..and I had just seen that jackie chan video where he tosses a piece of gum and catches it in his mouth, but it all went horribly wrong. Screw you Jackie Chan.
I sighed as the big reaper guy kept shuffling some documents. I didn't know dying was just a tedious process. He kept his scythe aside, "You are free to go" He said. I was surprised beyond expectations. "Go? Go where?" I asked.
"Your sentence of 35 years is complete. You are free to go" he clarified. It didn't sit well with me. "You mean to say I had to stay in this horrible horrible life...for 35 years, with no friends, no love..and with the kind of family I had and the country I was......Oh...it was a punishment?" I asked.
Death looked at me without raising his head. "But...But Earth has a prison system...What about those people in the prison?" I inquired. Death shrugged, "I don't know about their circus. Just that Earth is a prison made of flesh, call it 10th circle of hell." He said.
"10th? aren't there only 9?" I shook my head, nothing made sense. All this time earth was just a prison and I was serving a sentence? What was my crime. What about those who are having pretty good time on Earth. Are they serving sentence too? My mind was just flooded with questions. Sensing what I was thinking death just groaned.
"Yeah, system ain't perfect. Some people down there get pretty light sentence and it's like a vacation for them. Happens usually when they slip a little something to you know who. But it keeps you away from your true form, limits your abilities greatly." He answered.
What abilities? What's my true form? Where did I come from? I looked at myself, I was still in my mortal form. "No..I don't know who.." I was still confused.
Death rolled its non existent eyes in empty socket. "You'll know everything once you leave this world. Don't be afraid of all the demons, they just guard the place. Now off you go" Death slammed the file close. Ofcourse, on this planet where 2-3 people die every second...he is pretty busy. Unsure, I get up and step towards the door. It opens on its own, beyond which laid a beautiful scene of Nebulas and blue stars. I looked back at death, he approved. "Don't make any more mistakes"
Though I was still unsure of what I did do, I stepped forward, my body dissolved and I began to float. I zoomed past the sector, doing circles around a dead planet. An angel interrupted my play. "Dude, fuck off to your sector, stop running around". Rude I thought.
"Well...where...would that be?" I asked as though he was rude, he was still an angel and close to God, ultimately an innocent and pure being. "The fuck if I know" Angel responded. "Why don't you ask your sorry ass parents who birthed you." He said and smirked. "Oh wait...met your mom last night...she said you were an accident... She told me this when I..." I knew well how that joke ended. Without listening more, I zoomed past to the sector which looked prettier. Soon I found others like me..and my memory started flooding back.
Ofcourse, I was a race of people called 'soul' and we are born through supernovas. We were technically immortal, since when we died, we would just reborn. But I was still unable to remember my crime. I remembered my sector of space, a cluster where my people used to live. We were scattered through out the universe. As I stepped back into it, I was greeted by them.
"Oh, you are free already? Good to see you" A soul..familiar. Ofcourse he was my friend. "Yeah...everything seems fuzzy and ...what did I do to get sent to Earth?" I ask. He responded in a hushed tone. "Oh..you tried to go near it." He said. "Let's not talk about that...they don't like it."
I was more confused than ever. "What...near what?" When he hushed me..the Angel soon appeared. It had followed me. "Wait...wait" Angel was panting. "What is it?" I asked, a bit surprised and annoyed.
"We didn't finish talking. She told me this while I was Balls deep inside her." The other soul didn't understand what balls were. But angel being a frequent visitor to the planet, knew the reference and waited with his mouth open for me to get it. I rolled my non existent eyes. "Why don't you take my balls deep into you....Prick" An Earthly salutation I picked with me.
"But...you don't have any balls" Said my friend. "GODDAMNIT Jeff" I groaned as Angel burst out laughing, zooming past the planet to going back to earth. "Weird...do Earth function on balls? It seems pretty important to them. kevin also talks about it." I calmed myself with a raging storm inside me. Perhaps I had anger issues. "Yes...balls are important on Earth." The voice echoed in the star system. "Hahahaha....you don't have the balls" from far away.
Yep, that was him. Anywho...I needed to solve the mystery. "I tried to go near what?" I asked again. | 2022-05-20T10:45:50 | 2022-05-20T09:04:33 | 46 | 25 |
[WP] The villains finally managed to defeat the league of heroes. But unbeknownst to them the league did not exist, primarily, to fight them, but to keep an even bigger threat in check: you. And you are about to demonstrate to the villains what happens when there is no one around to stop you. | I woke up... late? Odd, usually Rose comes to get me up for breakfast, I wonder what kept her? I know I'm usually a heavy sleeper, but still... I swung my feet off the bed and sat up, rubbing the bleary from my eyes. Looking around I realized all the safety lights were on and the base was clearly under attack, though... I felt slightly queasy, this didn't feel like the other times the base was under attack. I quickly threw on my clothes and carefully headed out.
Rubble. Rubble was everywhere. Rubble and what looked like a lot of blood and gore mixed in. I felt sick, but I had to find out what happened to the rest of my friends. I sprinted through the corridors best I could until I reached the commons and what I saw there tore through my mind like lightning. The entire League, my friends, dead. The last of them were still being held tauntingly by a group of who I could only assume was the Villains I was told so much about during story time.
"What do we have here? One last hero to come save the day?"
'Nahw, they're just a nobody. Probably a janitor or something.'
I unsuccessfully held back my tears of rage, "What have you done to my FRIENDS?"
The walls vibrated with the words I spoke, reality seemed so fragile in that moment... my rage made what felt like tendrils reaching out and intertwining with every molecule in the surrounding area.
'Oy, what is this? Fucking kill 'em before they do something!'
The rest of the crew raised up various weaponry to attack, only to have it all turn to dust in their hands.
"My FRIENDS... made life worth living. MY FRIENDS. MADE THE WORLD WORTH HAVING."
I pulled back the rage, tearing the fabric of space and time around the villains.
"WITHOUT THEM. EXISTENCE ISN'T WORTH IT." | A few weeks ago, the heroes had marched Dread down to his cell in the deepest part of the Prison Facility that was meant to house super-powered individuals somewhere in the French countryside. M had watched him walk by, his face dirtied with grime and tears. They had put high hopes in Dread, as he had been a formidable fighter, but they also understood how utterly finite his defeat had been. And yet, there appeared to be something growing within Dread, something that must have been buried deep within the fallen villain for decades. From his cell, Dread had noticed them watching and had given M a quick nod.
Now, something was different. Something was about to disturb the peace.
"Guards!", M yelled from their cell.
"What is it?", asked the on-duty Guard, a man named Jaque.
"Something is going to happen, something big, something terrible. Alert the Warden and at least get the civilian personnel out of the building. And fast!"
Jacques' usually chipper demeanor was instantly replaced with utter terror as he ran to the intercom. When he was done talking, the prison went on high alert. And M was hoping their warning had been enough.
The sounds of fighting vibrated through the entire complex for what felt like hours. Jacques had left to help somewhere topside and had not returned, even after the fighting had ended. Dread sat in his cell and tried to ignore everything, the other two high-profile inmates stared at the blast door and M felt ... uneasy.
The heavy, hydraulic-operated blast door flew into the inner yard with a loud crash and was embedded into the concrete of the floor. Through the gaping hole in the wall stepped a masked woman. She dragged another woman behind herself by the other woman's hair.
"By decree of her majesty, the new ruler of Europe, Queen Una the mighty, you are set free and ordered to roam and terrorize as you please!", she said with authority.
Dread shook his head while the other two inmates cried in ecstasy to be freed. She reprimanded Dread for his "lack of villainous passion" and tried to drag him from his cell when M spoke up.
"Who are you and with what authority to you act?", they asked.
The masked woman spun around, shocked to find M standing beside her in Dread's cell when their cell had nit been unlocked and opened yet.
"W-we are the new rulers of Europe, we defeated their so-called heroes we free our brethren, and then we will force the continent to its knees and take over as right..."
M interrupted her. They had put her in stasis while keeping her anchored to the planet's surface. So she wouldn't be crushed by the mass of the building when the planet moved away from under her. They did the same to the newly freed inmates before slowly gliding through the walls of the prison. The remaining freed inmates on the other levels were dealt with in the same manner.
Warden Kira Mann was forced to her knees and held upright by someone who had grabbed her by her hair. She had trouble breathing as her nose was blocked by clotting blood and one lung had been crushed. She was forced to look at the pitiful state her people were in.
"Warden Mann, allow me to introduce myself. I am Una, the rightful ruler of Europe and your new Boss. I have been very merciful when I ordered my troops to kill as few of your guards as possible and we left the staff untouched. I expect you to repay this favor of mine with utmost loyalty to me and my cause from now until you die. Do you understand?", Una asked with her voice full of arrogance.
"I understand...", Mann answered shakily.
"However, I have to reject your favor. I do not cooperate with Murderers!"
Una's expression switched from arrogant triumph to burning anger and hatred faster than Mann could blink. Before she knew it, she was struck by Una's powerful blast and flung across the yard, impacting a wall on the other side. She died on impact as her skull was shattered.
"You see what happens when you don't a life your Queens orders?", she yelled towards the guards and the civilian personnel.
"Obey me, I am your Queen! Or suffer!", she snarled. | 2022-12-09T13:52:21 | 2022-12-09T13:20:29 | 42 | 30 |
[WP] You arrive in Heaven to find it abandoned.
[WP] You arrive in Heaven to find it abandoned... | [GONE FISHIN']
I starred blankly at the sign. I knew this place . Your grandfathers store is a place that you never forget even after 85 years. I raised myself up on my tippy toes and peered through the window just too double check on the emptiness. I had done that dozens of times before and knew what was coming next.
I go to the ice box and grab out one soda. Not two because two is too many for a boy to drink after school. I pop the top off and put it in my pocket. The first drink is always the best. I plop down on the curb and wait for the sound of his pick up. If anyone needs gas I can help them but can't make change so I tell them just to stop back later to pay.
It always felt like an eternity waiting on that curb but grandpa always comes. | **This is my first attempt at writing on this subreddit. Hopefully it isn't too bad! Feedback is welcomed!**
The great golden gate of Heaven looms open ahead, welcoming me in. Standing upon cloud foundations, the metal glistened in the omnipresent light.
I stand frozen, trying to comprehend exactly what is happening. Arching my head upwards to look at the magnificent gate, a feeling of nostalgia overwhelms me. *This* is Heaven. The clouds, the gates, the light; the movies had got it right. I mean literally right in every way. *This* is how I always imagined it.
I take a brief look behind me, gazing upon the infinite clouds and blue skies before shifting my attention back to the gate.
I'm *dead*. Fuck. But how did I-
Memories started flooding through my head as the sounds of car horns and metal clashing deafened me. Drunk driving. Even after all those times I told myself to stop...
Shame washed over me as the events played back through my head. Of all the ways to die and I get the most moronic one. A chill brushed my spine as I considered the possibility of taking someone with me. But I was alone. It must have only been me who died.
I take a deep breath as I stumble through the gates. A 50-meter wide road of cloud delicately divides the paradise; elegant buildings standing tall alongside it. Looking through the smaller roads between them I could see that they stretched forever. Gazing down the path, I see an enormous white staircase standing central. That's where the road leads, so I figure that's where I must go. A feeling of warmth and comfort wash over me. I was home.
Wait a second. *Where the fuck is everyone?*
I begin to spin and scan the empty space, looking for a sign of life before a million different voices suddenly dominate my thoughts. A paralyzing ringing drone of crying, laughter and screaming pierce my mind, forcing me to my knees. I close my eyes, my body tensing as I feebly try to endure the pain. The screech of voices gets louder and louder, reaching a crescendo of agony. Just before I can take no more, it stops.
My heavy breathing became the only sound present. I remember everything now. Opening my eyes and standing up, I see I have moved. In front a closed worn book lays closed upon a small white marble table. As I turn to look behind I nearly stumble down the steep stair case. I briefly look over Heaven from atop the stairs, soaking in it's empty glory. I cast my sights into the distance to the great golden gate where I was just a moment before. Turning around I approach the book.
The book opens as I draw near, the pages rapidly flicking from one side to the other.
"Stop." I speak calmly.
The book halts about half way. I look down to find a quill in my hand. I squint my eyes and read where I had got up to last time.
* Michael Jay Foster *ticked*
* Michael Jay Fosters *ticked*
* Michael Jay Fosters *ticked*
* Michael Jay Fosters
* Michael Jay Fosters
There must of been a thousand names on this page alone. I tick my name. Just as I had ticked all my other names before. Halfway there. Now on to the next one. I close the book and read it's title, "The Human Race".
Darkness engulfs me.
*I'm panicking. Help. Help! What's happening?!*
"Congratulations! It's a Boy!"
| 2014-05-10T11:02:40 | 2014-05-10T10:20:03 | 40 | 17 |
[WP] Batman gets a riddle he can't solve. Bruce is taking it hard, the Riddler is taking it worse. | "Master Wayne, you really should take a break. Your health is deteriorating and you havn't had anything to eat in days."
"Yeah, Bruce. Get some rest and we can go find the riddler and just beat the answers out of him. Come on, just like the good old days?"
The sullen billionaire stared at the note. There had to be some hidden meaning to this. Something to do with the Riddler's next scheme. Perhaps he should run the paper under the micro-scanners again. Perhaps he should find the source of the ink, or maybe compare the exact dimensions of the note to a map of Gotham. So many possibilities, but none of them seemed to sync up.
He continued to stare at the pink index card with the sharpie drawn message. "I like you, do you like me? Yes/No" | Alfred walked up behind Mr Wayne carrying a silver tray. He placed the tray beside Mr. Wayne at the computer, removing the cover to reveal a simple casserole. In times like these, even if Mr. Wayne didn’t consciously understand it, he longed for comfort and home. This was the recipe Alfred had found while clearing away Lady Waynes items from the main bedroom, kept in a box of things marked ‘Bruces Favorites’, along with an old camera with a spare spool of film, and a worn blanket. His mother was a sentimental soul who’d often leave trinkets and keepsakes in marked boxes, that while telling anyone what was in it, would still leave it totally mystery as to it’s contents. The box Batman kept looking at now reminded Alfred of the Ladies; it’s intension clear, but contents a riddle.
Alfred stood behind Batman while he ignored the meal. After a few tell timed coughs, a few bites were taken. Batman paused for a moment, looking away from the computer screen to the direct connection to his childhood, cooling beside him. Mr. Wayne removed the mask and began eating in earnest. Alfred left to get the master a drink. It had probably been three days since the box had arrived, and in that time there had been no rest. Alfred knew he was exhausted and on the verge of collapse. He hoped the meal would either force him to rest, or at least give him enough energy to not pass out.
The doorbell rang. Alfred answered it a few minutes later. There was a tall, thin man dressed in a suit and carried a walking cane.
“Hello. My name is Edward Nigma.” The man said meekly. “I was wondering, is Mr. Wayne feeling ok?”
“The Master is out of the country” Alfred used the standard lie, not trusting this man “I can get a message to him.” Alfred realised he had not invited this man past the gates, yet here he was at the front door. He didn’t look like the climbing type and none of the alarms had gone off.
“Of course, being an international playboy and all.” He leaned on the cane while thinking.
“If there is nothing else I can help you with I’ll get back to my books. I’m sure you can contact Wayne Enterprises in the morning if it’s business related.” Alfred started to close the door, but was stopped by the cane.
“I’d like to explain myself.” He was looking at Alfred, but was clearly talking into the manor.
“I’m not sure what you’re doing, but if you don’t leave, I’ll call the police.” Alfred pushed harder on the door. Nigma put his arm and leg in the way to stop it closing.
“But I have to know where I went wrong!” he screamed manically.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Alfred had his full weight on the door, and was reaching for one of the security buttons
“BATMAN. BATMAN. BATMAN Batman batman. BATMAN.” Nigma screamed over and over while trying to push himself through the door.
There was a shadow moving, then Nigma stopped trying to get through the door, falling to the ground.
Mr. Wayne stood on the porch in his training gear, carrying a baseball bat. He’d used it to put across Nigmas neck, and knock him out. His pockets were searched and several more Riddler clues were found. They both turned to the light of the porch to investigate these new letters fully.
There was a sound behind them, and Alfred turned to see Nigma climbing over the wall laughing manically.
| 2014-08-08T10:07:20 | 2014-08-08T07:43:49 | 319 | 52 |
[WP] A man lucid dreams about being with a girl that he's been crushing on. This helps build his confidence to ask her out and they eventually end up together. But later on the guy starts having trouble separating details from his dreams and reality, threatening the relationship. | "Heh. Okay."
I'm glad no one really knows what I *choose* to dream about. They'd think I was crazy or a sociopath. This is the land of dreams and I can do whatever I want. I am the **GOD** of this world. I do these things, because I can.
Tonight, I'm dreaming about murdering my wife. I met her with my dreams, so it makes sense that we depart in my dreams as well. It's just the frustration. She's a good woman, but being so beautiful and attractive... I get jealous. She's so oblivious. We fight about it sometimes and I'm just as mad at myself for not overcoming my inadequacies. It's my fault we fight about it; she really doesn't know she's flirting.
Not tonight. Nope. Not facing my inadequacies or dealing with my personal problems. I don't drink or do drugs or cheat. I dream. And tonight, I'm my wife's killer and I'm in court and I'm going to get away with it.
"...Guilty," says the one of the jurors.
Heh. Okay. Guess I want to follow this dream a bit further. They take me away, they lock me up. The drama of court has ended for some time and I'm still dreaming. I was *really* frustrated with her last night. Maybe I need to get more aggression out.
I pick the biggest guy in the cafeteria and punch him right in the gut. A couple slams with my tray and his face looks like ground beef. "I'M INVINCIBLE!" I scream as I slowly tunnel through his skull after the tenth blow with the tray's edge. They pull me off of him and beat me. I can't tell what's happening; the pain is so intense.
I come to in the prison's hospital. I fade in and out, remembering my wife. I must've been *really* frustrated with her. I need to get this aggression out.
It's hard to move, my bones ache. I power through the "sedatives" and pull the hoses out of my body. I stumble to the door and slam my head into it over and over again. My right eye fails after a few more blows. Sounds get quiet. I feel like I'm getting it all out. All those guys hitting on her right in front of me. The way she just smiles and talks to them. She doesn't know.
A padded room. I've been dreaming forever it seems. I've battered my body senseless. She can be so frustrating at times. I *need* to get it all out. I'd rather do it here. I don't really want to hurt anybody. I must've been *really* frustrated last night. Maybe I'll eat that nurse's face off today. Then I'll be ready to wake up. | "But... We've never been to Madison together." Her face scrunched up in confusion. *It's almost cute,* Anthony reflected to himself, *the way she looked when she was puzzled*. But he didn't have time to admire, he had to get her to remember. *Why didn't she remember?*
"You have to remember we spent all day there babe." He pleaded. Anthony recalled the day like it was yesterday. Was it yesterday? No, last week... Week before, that's right. They had walked across the new bridge into Kentucky and fell in love with the limestone hills that guarded the little green valley. Everything was bathed in that golden light of an early summer sun and the Ohio river was a painted picture of every hue of blue. Running paint. Dripping down, down, down, slowly meandering toward the much larger breath of greens, browns, and whites of the Mississippi.
"Anthony... No." Her confusion melted to grief, "We haven't."
Seeing the pain he was causing her, Anthony dropped the subject and apologized, saying he probably misremembered. That garnered a small sigh of relief from her and the two continued on. After a few minutes of silence; however, Anthony's restlessness got the better of him. He *needed* her to recollect something.
"What about our canoe trip on the Blue river? We had a picnic on that sandbar and you made me flip my canoe." His eyes were now locked on hers, but she didn't meet his gaze. Instead they stared at the ground.
"I... Don't think I can do this." She said quietly.
Anthony's heart stopped, "No wait Stella, you splashed me and I fell in. The water was so cold cause it was only April, but we laughed anyway. I remember you helped me get ashore and then I was all wet. You didn't care, you still kissed me, you did. Then we were both wet from the river and you just said 'screw it,' just like that and you dove in. How do you not remember? It was so sunny." He rambled on and as he spoke Anthony saw the tears well up in her eyes, like little tumultuous pools gathering before an edge, held back only by surface tension.
"No no, that never happened." She cried closing her eyes and Anthony watched two drops fall from her anguished face.
"Stella..." He said reaching out to her.
"Don't touch me!" She screamed back and Anthony recoiled his hand. Her eyes were on him now, they were red with dark circles beneath. *Still pretty*.
"What about the boat on Hardy lake? Remember it was red too? We got drunk together under the stars anchored out in the middle? Remember the waves? There was so many waves?" He was pleading now. Firing everything that came to mind. Nothing made sense anymore. Not his thoughts, their memories, her tears. *Why is she sobbing?* He thought, but when he opened his mouth to ask no words came.
Stella... That was her name. He had been smitten from the moment he laid eyes on her. She was small, almost frail looking like a piece of precious porcelain, shaped into the essence of beauty by Venus herself. Her blonde hair shined like the sun. Her blue eyes were pools of aqueous serenity. Her lips were always set in a calming smile. Her hands were always soft and warm. She was comfort and beauty in one.
They had been together since the winter, when the snow made her eyes shine like the brightest, bluest stars and her hair whipped in the wind in eternal dance. "Do you remember when we went ice skating on that pond behind my house?" He asked pathetically, looking away afraid to witness the pain he brought her. She never responded only cried more.
Of all the things that no longer made sense, Anthony, was sure of only one: they had reached their end. His mind tossed like waters in a storm. No a hurricane. A great maelstrom swirled consuming, just consuming, and he was trapped in its pull. The end was coming. *Soon this whirlpool will suck me under the surface and in its depths I'll drown.* Faster and faster now, he felt himself spinning around the center getting closer and closer.
Then it was over. Stella dried her red, puffy eyes and Anthony slunk down in a seat. *She was perfect*, he thought uncaring of the rough wooded chair he landed on.
"Do you remember the dock?" He asked feebly, positive of her response.
"Yes." She said quietly back. That was a surprise. He looked up and she was smiling sadly. "My parents pond, their old dock."
"It was so uncomfortable." Anthony responded, his mouth hanging open surprised.
"But the water was warm, which is weird cause it was--"
"Early May."
"It wasn't even sunny."
"No..." Anthony said lowering his head. *It wasn't.* Stella kissed him on his forehead and then she was gone. Vanished like all these false memories. *Had any of it been real?* The thought came painfully; truthfully.
He remembered that day on the dock at her parent's pond. It was a small thing, but still pretty. The water wasn't blue then, it reflected the grey skies above and it was so windy. The water whipped back and forth within its sandy boundaries, waves rising to a white capped crescendo then falling back down beneath the surface. A constant state of change, of chaos. Like his mind, trapped within the confines of its own borders, Anthony felt the waves wash over him one after the other. | 2015-01-27T07:09:47 | 2015-01-27T06:48:20 | 20 | 14 |
[WP] The city gets new street lamps, but these lamps are "smart". If a crime (like a robbery) or car crash happens under, or in the vicinity of one, the light will turn red as an indicator to the police. One night, every street lamp in the city turns red. | Everything was silent in the presidents control room. The board of national security held it's breath, watching the live updates on the monitors lining the room.
"Johnson, status report!" the general stormed into the room, still half in his night garments.
"Everything's returning positive! Every lamp in every city! Boston, LA, St. Lewis! If it's got our detection lamps, we're receiving a high alert signal from it!"
"Well what the hell could possibly be causing this? Gang wars? Hackers? Or just a widespread malfunction?"
"See sir, that's the problem. We don't know what's the problem. All our security feeds have cut out, and the phone line is dead. No one's responding, we're essentially blind."
"Does the president know yet?"
"No sir."
"Good, let's keep it that way." The general sighed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
"Alright, let's start from the top. What do we have?"
"When the video feeds started cutting out, we received a video message on every channel. Here it is." Johnson pushed a few buttons from his laptop, which prompted a retinal scan. After the scan was complete, an image appeared on the screens.
It was of a dark silhouetted figured, abnormally long and slender. It spoke, a deep garbled, slightly nasally voice.
"067259431111" it uttered, and the video feed ended.
"We have no idea what the numbers could be. We have our top cryptologists working on breaking it right now, but we're not su.."
"I know that." the general whispered, interrupting Johnson.
"Sorry sir?"
"I recognise that code. But it can't be. He's gone. He can't be back." the general muttered, a look of fear creeping onto his face.
"Sir? Whose back?"
The general stood up from his chair, drawing up to his full height. He picked up a red phone on the wall.
"Wake the president, tell him we're going to defcon 1."
The council gasped, everyone starting to talk at once. The general silenced them with a raise of his hand.
"Johnson, pull up a satellite feed, focused on the US. Quickly!"
Johnson did as directed, and nearly fell out of his chair. Multiple drinks were spilled as the live feed came up on the screens.
"I knew it... That number was the only remaining trace we had after his last appearance. If he's back, I can only hope for our future. Whatever his motives are, we're in big trouble..."
And there on the screen, arranged in a huge collection of red lamps were 4 hearts, all arranged in a circle.
"It can't be..." someone muttered.
"It is." the general firmly said. "It's him."
"4chan has returned."
| “Its a signal-to-noise issue, really.” Bruce says, as he looks at me to make sure I am understanding.
I don’t understand, but I try not to show it. The last thing I want right now is to endure one of his tedious explanations. Even though he is pretty cute when he is frustrated.
I must have failed to hide my confusion, because he issues a long-suffering sigh, and starts in.
“Ok, look, imagine you are listening to the radio, and your favorite song comes on. Awesome, right?”
“*When I was a young boy, I pretended I had a job--*” I only get through the first line, before Bruce-the-wet-blanket cuts me off.
“*Imagine* you are listening to it.” He repeats.
“*My daddy said--*” I cannot be interrupted.
“Just, pretend. Like in your mind. Please don't actually sing.”
I stop. Bruce can be a real a lame-ass sometimes.
“Ok, so you are trying to listen to your song, ‘Night Shift,’ or whatever.”
“Work.”
“Pardon?”
“Night *Work*.”
“Look, honestly, it doesn’t matter what the fuck song it is -- just pretend you want to listen to it.”
“I do want to listen to it.”
“Fine. Just, ok, in your mind, you are listening to it right now.”
“Awesome.” I start to bob my head in time with the music. I picture myself in my bedroom, I am wearing my PJs, dancing on my bed. I haven’t done that since I was a teenager. It is awesome.
“Now, someone else turns on a different radio.”
“What the hell? How did they get into my bedroom? What are they doing there? The fucking sicko-perv!”
“It doesn’t...wait, what?”
“I am listening to the radio in my bedroom, wearing a cami, and then some siko just comes in. What is he doing there?”
“Listening to the radio.”
“Why? Doesn’t he have a radio is his bedroom?”
“No. I mean, yes. I mean...maybe. Look. It doesn’t matter.” Bruce rubs his hand back and forth on his head -- he does this sometimes during our conversations. Actually, he does it during *all* our conversations. Maybe that is why he is going bald. I make a note to bring that up with him after we are done talking about my radio-stalker.
“Ok. Let me try again.”
“Sure.”
“Pretend you are in your car at a stoplight, listening to the radio, and it is a song you like.”
“Ok.”
“Then, two people pull up to you, and they are also listening to the radio, right? But different songs.”
“Ugg. I hate that.”
“Exactly. And why do you hate that.”
“Because I want to listen to my song. If I wanted to listen to their song, then I would just give them a blowjob and then ride around in their car.”
“Right!...I mean, what?”
“Well, you can’t just expect someone to give you rides for free. Gas is expensive.”
“So you think that a blow...nevermind. Ok, there are two dudes, with their own radio. And it is annoying, because…” He raises his eyebrows. This is his signal that he has forgotten what he was saying and wants me to finish it for him. Sometimes, he is so cute -- even if he is a bit absent minded.
“...because I can’t hear my song.”
“Right.”
“Right.”
“Right.”
“Right.” I don’t know why we are saying this word back and forth, but it is a fun game.
“You don’t get it, do you?”
“Get what?”
He hangs his head. This is something else I see him do a lot. His neck must be stiff all the time, if he has to stretch it out like this. I think about going over to give him a neck-rub, but then he looks at me again.
“Ok, pretend you are the police.”
“And arrest those guys, so they can’t play their radios! Blam-O!”
“NO!”
“No?”
“No. Pretend you are the police. Instead of listening for a song you like, you are trying to ‘listen’ for a crime.”
I am about to point out that crimes don’t make noises, but then I remember that guns can be pretty loud, so I hold my tongue.
“We are going to play a bunch of songs, so the cops can’t hear what they are looking for.”
“We are?”
“Yes, we are. Sort of. You know how the lights turn red when you commit a crime?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, tonight, I am going to turn them all red. I hacked the system. The cops won’t be able to tell what are the real crimes -- their favorite songs -- and what are the false signals -- the other songs.”
“Ohhhhh….but what do so songs have to do with the streetlights?”
He is rubbing his head again. God, it is cute.
“Ok, nevermind. Just, know this. We are the dudes in the car, and the cops are the ones that are trying to listen to ‘Night Shift.’”
“Work.”
“Whatever.”
“So...you are saying that we are going to be douche-nozzles to the police?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, why didn’t you say so. Sounds like fun to me!” | 2015-02-01T17:49:48 | 2015-02-01T15:13:21 | 60 | 23 |
[WP] In an alternate universe, dogs live as long as humans. At birth, every person is assigned a "Companion for Life".
Edit: WOW! I didn't think this would blow up like it did! Thank you for all of those incredible, heartbreaking stories! | The days don't really seem to get much easier like I was told they would. Food is hard to swallow. Home isn't home without you. It is a vacant shell of our past together. The memories we made are ones I will cherish until my dying breath. But those memoirs don't take away the pain when know we will never be able to make new ones again.
I try to keep the routine that we had, I feel like it would make you happy. I still go on walks. I bring the leash even without you at the end of it. They are very quiet walks. Lonely walks.
I get sad smiles from neighbors as I pass without my friend. They are all friendly people and they mourn as I do, but it's not the same. They have their companions. Life isn't fair, and accidents happen, I know. I'm just upset because I miss you. Thirty-four years is a long time to have someone only to have them taken before their time.
My walk is a little different now. Remember how we always made a right on Cherry Street to the big park? Now I make a left. I go down a ways to the big field at end of the street. The one with all of the rocks. I go to your rock, lay down and take a nap. It is the closest thing I can get to being at your side. As I nap, I dream about every day we had together and I await the day we can play catch again.
You were a good human, Mikey.
Love,
Bandit | I still remember the day we brought Alice home from the hospital in perfect detail as if it happened just last week. I was deliriously tired from labor, but too wired from the excitement of finally meeting my little girl to sleep. I would sit at her bassinet for hours watching her sleep and, as soon as her little mouth began to twitch, I would scoop her up to nurse before she even opened her eyes. For the first three months of her life she never left my side.
When it was time for me to return to work and for her to begin daycare, her companion was also ready to begin his new chapter and joined her during the day. He was born only a few hours before Alice and it seemed like fate. The first time they met they were each only six weeks old. Alice slept in my arms while he crawled into my lap to sniff her. He licked her face and that was when I got to see her first smile. He soon fell asleep, his soft body snuggled closely to my girl, now our girl.
Each evening after work I would excitedly rush to pick them up. Upon arriving home, he would not leave her side. It was that way every day for five years. For the first five years we simply called him "Puppy," but for their fifth birthday Alice decided "Puppy" needed a proper name, and dubbed him King.
King did not adjust well to Alice going off to kindy, and for the first year he was quite destructive. Thankfully, as time passed, he realized Alice always came home to him. Over the years their routine never varied. Each morning he would rise with Alice, following her to the kitchen to "assist" with breakfast. Each afternoon he would greet her at the door and wait patiently while she finished her homework. Each evening they would play together and finally crawl into her huge bed together.
Then everything changed. Shortly after her fourteenth birthday, Alice collapsed in school. She was rushed the the hospital. That is the other day of my life I will remember forever. Cancer, the doctor said. Months to live.
We took her home and made her as comfortable as we could, and once more I found myself watching my baby sleep. I counted the hours through the night, waking her to take medicine. Just like in those first months, I was with her every moment of the day and tending to her every need. This time I was not alone, though, and King was as much my companion as he was hers.
It was a Tuesday when she closed her eyes and didn't open them again. It was sunny outside, and as I sat by her bedside watching her sleep one last time, I heard the mail truck drive by and kids shout playfully in the neighborhood. The day continued as if nothing had happened, while King and I would never be the same again. I could not understand why the world did not mourn with us. Did no one realize everything had ended?
Today it has been six months since Alice passed away. I thought my heart was shattered into as many pieces as was possible for a human, but now I realize how wrong I was. I've watched for these last six months as King disappeared before my eyes. We have finally decided today to end his suffering. I used to imagine Alice and King growing old together. I would watch her drive off to college with King as her co-pilot. I would joke with her that any man she planned to marry had to love King as much as she did. I would babysit my grandchildren, who snuggled with companions of their own, and King would watch over the whole brood, as my own companion always did. He and I would look at each other from across the room and though we do not speak the same language, we would both know the other was saying "look at how blessed we are."
Instead, I hold King's head in my lap and I feel as if I am losing my daughter once again. They have administered the medication to help him sleep, and he licks my hand as if to tell me it will be okay, and he is glad. We have already made arrangements with the cemetery to have him buried next to Alice. It only takes five minutes for his heart to stop, and while I know I have done the right thing, so few ever recover from the loss of their human companions, I will never be the same. | 2015-11-20T19:52:06 | 2015-11-20T18:43:27 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] You just got fired, you're pretty sure your girlfriend is cheating on you, you're 75k in student loans debt, rent was due last week, and to top it all off? You're all out of beer. Oddly enough, you just got an email titled "Would you like to change the difficulty? Current setting: Very Hard."
EDIT: muh front page reddit wew lad.
This blew up a lot more than I thought it would.
I'm having a great time reading the responses I even decided to add one myself in the comments. | **Would you like to change the difficulty level?**
El sucked at the lip of an empty Corona, studying her reflection in the sun-bright screen.
No makeup. Too-fat mouth. Short hair still manic from the pillow where she'd sheltered, feigning sleep, while Jackie texted with her ex. She'd considered calling her out, raising hell, hurling invective and glassware until the girl fled, but even a cheating partner was better than nothing. She'd let the tryst continue.
Her focus flickered back to the email.
**Would you like to change the difficulty level?**
The sender field was blank, as usual. Whoever kept sending these, week after week, must have scheduled them out for months in advance. She moved it to the Spam folder, only to see another message take its place.
**Would you like to change the difficulty level?**
El shook the Corona. Nothing left. She could see the empty fridge in her mind. Nothing but condiments and molding bread and Jackie's homemade (putrid) sun tea. She tilted the bottle back and felt the last drop flatten, warm, on her tongue.
**Would you like to change the difficulty level?**
Home row. Index on 'J.' Her fingertips hovered. Hammered. Replied.
*Will this affect my achievements?*
Send.
She might not have beer or love or work or hope, but her snark was intact. That was something. Right?
A new, bolded subject line.
**Would you like to change the difficulty level? This will not affect your achievements.**
*Sure. Let's change it.*
**Please choose a new difficulty level.**
*What are my options?*
**Current setting: very hard. Options: easy, average, hard, very hard, impossible**
El considered.
"Easy" could mean a lot of things. A story mode game with a heart-breaking narrative. An uninterrupted foray into fantasy. But it could also mean slogging through worlds robbed of challenge. A smothering softness. Life with no edge.
She looked toward the bed, at the rumple of sheets on Jackie's side, at the bottle of Corona sitting empty, at the contortion of lime collapsed in its neck, at the credit card statements that fanned from the table. Would an easier life be better? Would less stress mean more happiness?
*What would you choose?*
The inbox sat quiet.
El sighed, stood. Hooked the neck of the bottle between her fingers and walked it back to the kitchen sink. The recycling was full, piled high with useless catalogs. Beneath the first two: a ticket stub. Something artsy. A date. Jackie-- overconfident--barely even trying to hide the affair.
The inbox pinged.
**Would you like to change the difficulty level?**
She took the recycling to the curb. Made the bed. Stacked the bills.
Tomorrow--Sunday--she'd ask Jackie to leave. She had unemployment coming. Enough, maybe, to make the rent on her own. And if not, there were other rentals. Other women. Other ways.
El leaned over the keyboard, squinting through the screen glare, and typed her response.
*No.*
She hit send. | Jeb sat back deep in the couch and ripped off the tab of his last beer. He figured he might as well enjoy both of them while they lasted: beer, even when he had it, didn't last very long, and his couch was due for repo by those bank sumbitches.
Looking around his piece-o-shit apartment (as he liked to call it) Jeb reflected that things hadn't gotten easier, as they'd said it would down at the congregation. Jeb believed in God, and he believed in that slimy rat fuck who spread Gods word and took his ten dollars every Sunday, but as of yet Jeb had yet to see God helping out.
Downing the last of his final beer (and vaguely wondering where his next would come from. Beer that is. Or paycheck. Same thing, really), Jeb burped loudly.
"This is some bullshit," he exclaimed.
He scratched his nuts, thinking that would help. It did. For a bit. Not for long though. The itch always came back. Fuckin' bitch Katrina.
"Never trust a woman named after a hurricane," he said to no-one in particular. He thought back to the whiskey, the dinners, the late nights they had spent together, and wondered how much of dent all that wasted time would have made in his loans. Sure, a diploma in Electrical Engineering wasn't a big deal to any of his prospective employers (also good-for-nothing rat fucks, he decided, trying to extract one more drop of Indian Pale from the dessicated can in his hand), but the bank certainly didn't think so. 75 big ones. Ain't no joke, far as anyone's concerned.
Jeb stood up from his dusty, moth-eaten couch just as generations of O'Thompson losers had before him and walked over to the computer.
'*Might as well check the old e-mails*,' he said, again, to no one at all. '*Welfare don't like it if'n you don't send out a few shots in the dark e'ry now and then*.'
There were no replies, of course. No golden e-handshakes welcoming him onto the team, no promises of riches and happiness beyond measure. Hell, there wasn't even a note from the Nigerian lawyer who promised to get back to him after that deposit last week.
And suddenly: a bing.
Jeb's eyes widened. His heart stepped up its pace a few murmurs, and his hand shook on the mouse.
Could this be it?
Jeb's dire hopes faded, however, as he read the subject line. To be precise, there was none. He thought that wasn't a thing people could do anymore, but given what that tornado-in-human-form had done, well, nothing really surprised him anymore.
He clicked the link.
"Would you like to change the difficulty?" Jeb read, his lips twisting visibly as they silently contorted out the various slow syllables of the sentence. "Current setting: Very Hard."
He laughed out loud. That ol' bastard Tucker, up to his tricks again. He chortled as he clicked the reply button. '*I'll show him, that prankster*,' he thought, a grin plastering itself across his grimy face. '*Thinks I's so dumb I don't know what tamara is*.'
His index fingers poked and prodded slowly across the keyboard, a tongue protruding its grey, wet mass out of the corner of Jeb's mouth as he formented his brilliant response.
"Too Easy," he typed, a thick, guttural chuckle coughing from his midsection. "Gimme Nightmare Mode."
Reading his enviable handiwork, Jeb laughed a second time. Ol' Tuck. How dumb'd'he think ol' Jebediah was? His finger hovered over the send button for a second [*but what if it's real what if this ain't no joke what if this is your one*] before hitting 'send'.
"That'll show him."
There was the longest moment where nothing happened, and then the phone rang.
Jeb (frankly surprised he still had a phone, and that it was still connected to the network) jumped in his seat. Rocketing from his chair, he flung himself through his pizza boxes and porn mags and all the detritus that only a 26-year-old bachelor can accumulate.
And there it was. A dull red, heavy thing. He snatched it to one ear.
"You almost got me, Tuck ya ol' fu..."
"Mr O'Thompson? Is this a bad time?"
Jeb heard his surname being used. No one used surnames. Not unless...
"Uh yeah, I can talk. Not doin' much."
"Mr Thompson, my name is Dr Fischer. You might remember me from..."
"Oh shit, Dr Faggy. You the one cupped my balls and all!" he laughed into the receiver. Saying that word, he scratched again. Fuckin' bitch.
"Er... well... yes, I ran your medical about sixteen months ago." There was a harsh silence on the phone, a dark, crackling that cut into the ear harder than static. "I wanted to call to say... oh God, I can't believe this, but... well, there's been a slight mix up."
"A...? A mix up? What do'ya... wha..."
"It seems that... well, to be perfectly honest, we mixed up a scan..."
Jeb's brain... slowed. There was this... Pop. A finality.
"What?" was all that came out.
"Well, it seems that when we did your CAT-scan for your medical insurance, we had another O'Thompson that day. A Jeremiah O'Thompson. Fortunately, we've been able to rectify his side of this tale - his scan is clear - but your... Mr O-Thompson? Mr O'Thompson?"
The phone fell to the floor with a thud.
*
*
*
Edit: "tamara" isn't April fools, but hey, I tried
| 2016-03-30T14:46:30 | 2016-03-30T14:08:22 | 493 | 112 |
[WP] You receive a confirmation letter for the sale of your soul to the devil. But you never made any such transaction. The letter includes a phone number to Hell's customer service department. | "This doesn't make any sense..." I muttered to myself as I punched in the digits on my phone. "Sell my soul to the devil... Stupid punk kids are going to get an earful, I can't believe they'd go this far..."
I was stringing together the threats I would make about calling their parents, when someone actually picked up on the other end.
"Welcome to Comcast customer service!" chirped an automated voice.
The phone clattered to the floor as the overwhelming reality crashed over me -- my son had promised to get me a new cable provider, but I had no idea that he would ever condemn me to Comcast. The voice droned on in the background and I fell to my knees, devoid of hope of every receiving good cable, a repairman at a reasonable time, and above all, a real human on the phone. | "Uh yes hello," I began, my face screwed up in confusion. I had the weirdest feeling in the pit of my gut that this was not going to be an easy day.
I continued, "My name is Devon, uh, Devon Peters. I got a letter." I held the paper up, rereading it for the fifth time. "Ya know, snail mail letter. And it says I sold my soul to the Devil?"
The bright, female voice on the other end of the line chirped in reply. "Do you have a confirmation number?"
I looked over the letter. The paper was thick, and it felt very official. There was a dark red wax seal on the envelope and everything. I couldn't believe that someone would put that much effort into a prank or scam, but I couldn't entertain the idea that it was *real* without laughing, either.
The letter was addressed to me and dated for today's date. In neat, though seemingly handwritten script, it stated,
*"Confirmation of sale of the soul of* Devon Peters *to the Devil at 11:57 PM on* (yesterday's date)*. All sales final. Soul will be collected at the end of the seller's natural lifespan."*
At the bottom of the letter, it gave a confirmation number and the phone number to "Customer Service."
Running my hand through my hair, I sighed. "The confirmation number is 666 dash 1235813. Look, is this some kind of sick joke? Because I don't like it."
The sound of keys on a keyboard clicking came from the other end of the line. "That's Devon Peters, 23 year old male, Caucasian, hair color black, eye color brown, blood type O negative?"
I stuttered. I didn't know my blood type. "Yes?"
The female voice carried on, professional in every way. "It says here that the sale took place yesterday, last night, actually."
I could feel my heartbeat increasing. I didn't know why, I didn't actually believe in God or the Devil or any of that stuff. Ghosts weren't real, demons weren't either, and humans didn't have "souls." So panicking wasn't making any sense, although that didn't seem to stop me.
"That's the thing!" I cried, waving the letter around frantically. "I didn't go anywhere last night! I was in my bed the whole time!"
"Hmm," the woman replied, drawing out the sound for longer than necessary. "Okay, here's the details. The sale was made by way of prayer."
"Prayer?" I asked, feeling my blood turn ice cold.
"Yes sir! Apparently the seller prayed:
*"Please, I'll give my fucking soul to whoever is listening to just come chat with me, prove that angels or demons or fucking Karma or whatever it is, whatever religious bullshit, is real. I'm tired of not knowing. Just please, tell me. Yeah, that's what I thought. There's no one out there. Fuck, I need sleep."*
I stood, jaw open, staring straight ahead but processing nothing except the voice in my ear.
"Don't worry Mr. Peters!" the voice said cheerily. "The Dark Lord heard you and he will be by today! Actually, he should be by any minute now. Is there anything else we can help you with?"
I dropped the phone. I was being pranked. I didn't know who had heard me laying in my bed the night before, but they were making some kind of joke. That had to be it. That was the only explanation.
My stomach dropped to the floor when the doorbell rang. | 2016-04-10T17:02:15 | 2016-04-10T15:47:37 | 117 | 46 |
[WP] You have the ability to double jump. Scientists are still trying to figure it out. | "What nonsense!"
"I know! But it's real! We've been testing with her at our lab for three days now."
"Can she *triple* jump too?"
"Yea, of course. That's like the first thing we've asked her to try. She has even done four! But beyond that, she gets very tired."
"Tired, you say?"
"Her heart races up with every jump. We had to be careful. But may be with practice.."
"So theoretically, do you think she can do an *infinite* jump?"
"Theoretically, she can't even do a double jump for Christ's sake! But I know what you're thinking. She still can't get to the orbit."
"Why not?"
"You see, with every further jump, the height she can reach seems to decay. So 'theoretically', even if we somehow impart her with infinite stamina, she can't jump beyond a certain threshold."
"Hmm interesting. I assume you measured the thrust she generates with her jump and compare it against the upper bound for height?"
"Yes, we did. We extrapolated the height that she would be able to reach if she were *infinite-jump*, and also calculated the height she should have actually reached if our Physics were true. We even accounted for air resistance and gravitational field anomalies."
"And?"
"Well, it turns out that the *infinite-jump* height is approximately 2.71828 times that of the conventional height."
"My God. Some one call the math guys!"
"Already did. We're meeting them in three hours. Be prepared." | "We done here?" I asked exasperatedly.
The man in the lab coat looked up, a bit apologetically, "just one more test for the day, please."
I rolled my eyes. "God, you guys are needy," but I nevertheless double jumped in the chamber for them. It's kind of hard to explain. I jump like any normal person would, but when I'm in the air, I constantly feel like I'm standing on something, like a water mattress, this let's me use it as leverage to jump a second time while in the air. How the science of it worked, I had no idea. That was for the no-life's in the lab coats to figure out.
"Have a good one, Mr. Jacobs," one of the scientists called out as I left. I didn't dignify him with a respond. Really, the only reason I came to this stupid place was because the government payed me an insane amount of money to comply with the tests.
I walked out of the facility and, as usual, I had a huge crowd waiting for me. Between my Youfube videos and live streams I was one of the most popular people on the planet. I mean, why shouldn't I be? I've jumped off buildings, the Grand canyon, hell, I've even skydived without a parachute. How it work is I simply double jump right before hitting the ground, cancelling all my previous momentum. It was easy really.
I waved at the crowd as they chanted my name. "DJ! DJ!" I smiled. This is who I was, DJ, Double Jump, not Drake Jacobs, like that scientist had called me.
The chanting suddenly changed to "JUMP! JUMP!" Well I'm not one to disappoint the crowd. I jumped up and when I reached the peak of my jump, I did it again, achieving a ridiculous height, and landed on the top of the wall of the facility.
The crowd went wild.
***
I came back hours later in my mansion, and I stopped dead in my tracks. Lisa was taking her things and putting them in her Chevy. I had asked to buy a new car for her, but she wouldn't have it. She insisted on keeping that decaying car..
I walked up to my door just as Lisa came out carrying a suitcase. She stopped and scowled at me, her dark eyes narrowed, her face creased in a frown. "Oh, back early are we," she sneered.
I rolled my eyes. This shit again. "I met a crowd, Lisa, what was I supposed to do, tell them not to bother me, that I have other things to do?"
Lisa ground her teeth, "Yes!" she exclaimed, that's exactly what you should do!"
Then she shook her head. "What am I even doing, this is obviously not going to get through to you.," and she shouldered past me to get to her car. I grabbed her hand as she did, and she ripped out of my grip immediately. "Don't fucking touch me!"
I held up my hands in supplication. "Look, why are you so angry? We can talk this out." We always did. "There's no need for all the drama."
She put her suitcase in her car, already stuffed, and stood to face me, her hands on her hips. She smiled and shook her head, blowing a strand of her hair out of her face. I loved it when she did that. "You really don't get it do you, DJ? I'm leaving. It's over. Bye."
It finally sunk in then. Lisa was leaving. *Leaving.* "You...you can't leave," I managed, "who else are you going to find? Who can possibly be better than me, than DJ?" I was genuinely confused. People desperately wished to catch a *glimpse* of me, and Lisa was leaving, after living with me for years?
She smiled then, genuinely and not ironically, "Oh Drake," she said, and I flinched. I hated being called Drake and she knew it. "Almost anyone else will be better than you."
***
(minor edits)
If you enjoyed check out my sub, [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/)
| 2017-02-11T08:49:55 | 2017-02-11T08:05:19 | 338 | 121 |
[WP] You lived a full life, travelling around the world, helping strangers around the way. Then, you find yourself facing the gates of hell, and they slowly open for you. An impeccably dressed demon greets you : "Welcome back, master. I hope your holidays where restful" | "I'm sorry?"
"I said I hope your holidays were restful. That's still a saying down here; is it not current up there anymore?"
"No, it is. I'm just confused why you're calling me master... and also why I'm in Hell."
"Ohh, right. *Ahem*. This again..."
"I'm sorry?"
"Something must have gone wrong with your reanimation. My mistake, sir, I will talk to the technicians about it. In the meantime, a lot of paperwork has been piling up on your desk so if you would just follow me -"
"There must be some mistake! I'm not who you think I am! I don't even know who you are, Varakyr!"
"..."
"A-ah. Ok, it's all coming back now."
"That's good." | I sit quietly in the chair, listening to the demon drone on incessantly. It's apparently all very important, the quotas and activity reports and sinner re-locations, but I can't help but feel that he's trying to filibuster me into staying in this hellhole forever.
The room is incredibly well lit, on account of the candles and fire everywhere. Decorated a gaudy red, there are flowing tapestries and thick carpets and portraits of strange demons on the walls. The canvases are endlessly melting though, also on the account of all the fire.
The seat I sit in seems normal, positioned behind a desk of what appears to be made of petrified wood. The cushioning is soft, but I can't help but feeling as if I'm sinking into muck the longer I'm here. A quick look down verifies that I am, indeed, sinking.
God, this place is awful.
The demon stops talking for a moment, looking at me intently. Most likely savoring my discomfort, no doubt.
"Sir, I just realized that I've been bothering you with such *trivialities*. Since you've been gone so long, we should probably ease you back in." He pulled out a small clipboard with a few dozen papers clipped to it and handed it to me. "I tried to pick a few you'd be sure to delight in."
Each paper looked like an application form for a passport or something - an image of a person, followed by some basic personal information. At the bottom of each page was a brief description of their actions, what I assumed were their sins.
"What am I supposed to do with these?" I asked.
"Pass judgement, of course. Send them to one of the nine circles appropriate for them." The demon paused to consider something, his eyes rolling back into his skull. "I suppose the punishment doesn't need to be appropriate, though. You always did like to play with them."
I flipped through each page, my stomach churning as I looked at each face. Sure, they were sinners, but how could I ever harm someone? I spent my whole life helping people, working with charities, and living for others. I may have played Devil's advocate once or twice, but you couldn't expect me to actually be the Devil here! No way!
"I can't do it," I said. The demon frowned, his eyes popping back into view.
"But didn't you send these people to Hell so you could, sir?" The demon stepped around the desk and pointed to the woman on the first page. "This one, you gave money to, knowing she'd invest and grow it. And when she lost it all, would turn to thievery to reclaim the life she had."
He pointed to different page. "You gave this man confidence in his ideals, which you knew would warp later on and lead him to commit an attack on innocents, killing dozens. Similarly, this man's confidence led him to commit adultery, and when he lost his family to it, drove him to suicide."
The demon went through the pages, counting each one of my good deeds against me. By the time he was finished, I was in tears, though the damnable fire evaporated any moisture that exited my body.
All of my life, my legacy, my purpose, was misconstrued and twisted on these scraps of paper. I would end myself, but it seemed there was no use in it.
The demon smiled again, but it was malicious and deformed, his mouth spitting open to reveal a black abyss, void of teeth and tongue. His personable demeanor was gone. Leaning down, he whispered in my ear.
"Welcome to Hell."
*Feedback Appreciated* | 2017-06-05T15:34:07 | 2017-06-05T13:59:52 | 25 | 14 |
[WP] At an alien bar in the distant future, two aliens are enjoying a drink and trading stories about the newest member to the Pan-Galactic Union, an odd race of bipeds from a planet named "Dirt". But what they don't realize is that you, the bartender, are from that planet "Earth". | "They're fuckin nuts, that's what they are."
The Qwyvvrtt shook his mane, the vines sliding like snakes across his barrel chest. A few small petals fluttered to the floor, the spring pollination season just drawing to an end. His friend perched along the side of the wall, all creeping ivy and a multitude dark eyes with slow blinks that drank up the world. Two wide saucers allowed their roots to splay easily across the enhanced water, passively sating their thirst.
"They implant themselves with metal. They become half machine. It is absurd." The ivy rasped, voice carrying easily over the creaking wood and tight skinned patter of movement of the normally quiet bar.
"Forget metal, someone told me the beings from Dirt will rip chunks of themselves out to save another Dirtwalker."
"And they just live like that? With someone else's limb? That's just-"
"Ugh, I know. Barbaric. How they even lived long enough for space travel, I don't know."
I stretched a lingering ache out of my elbow, listening in with half an ear as my other patrons chatted with the slow , tired rumble I'd learned to associate with the end of spring. The low music only eased their relaxed contentedness.
Except, I guessed, for those two.
"I watched a documentary that said they regularly applied acids and burning chemicals to their extremities. That they still punctured their own flesh for amusement."
They both shuddered.
"Can you imagine scorching your leaves just to look more autumn?."
"Gross, please, I'm trying to drink."
I laughed, sliding over to plant my elbows on the bar, grinning at them. Bright blue hair fell over my shoulders, freshly dyed.
Several piercings lined my ears, and a bright blue bandage at my elbow stuck a little to the polished chrome of the bar.
"Sorry for the delay boys, I'm still a bit woozy from a blood donation this morning. Can I get you anything."
My grin widened as their leaves rippled in horror and shock, and they muttered quiet negatives. Still, I filled up their water bowls (cloudy and cold - just the right amount decay to feed the fungus that lived in their tangled beards. The ivy shank back as I grinned at him.
"Don't be afraid to reach out if you need anything."
They nodded, and I retreated, prosthetic foot clicking against tiles.
"You know what it means when a human smiles, ssthahs?" "Hm?" "Documentary said they're descended from warm blooded animals, so it's either a gesture of comfort, amusement... or a threat."
"We should tip, ye? That's a human custom..."
"Yup." | a darkened bar, lit dimly by bioluminescent algae on the ceiling. the place is mostly empty, just two locals and the barman.
"have you heard anything about this new species?" one says
"leave it off man, you know i cant talk about my work."
"so thats a yes then?"
the sharply dressed alien sighs, "yes, yes i have heard of them, im meant to be helping out with the peace talks."
"whats a peace talk?" his mate asks.
"actually its this crazy concept they came up with cycles ago, basically theyre really fuckin good at war right? so if they didnt stop then theyd end up killing themselves. so after a while the leaders will sit down and negociate a deal where they stop killing each other in return for something."
the second alien took a sip of his beer (or equivalent thereof) before responding, "thats stupid, why doesnt one side just crush the other and win?"
"i already told you! theyre some of the best killers in the galaxy, apparently theyre a natural predator species with no natural weapons, theyre not even spikey! they only live like 10 cycles too."
"they dont sound very good to me. the Oderc are beasts, they can run really fast, theyre super strong, they have poisonous spines they can shoot out, youre not telling me these things are better? i mean, even we have claws."
"humans dont have any of that because they dont need it! theyre super fucken smart, unlike you-"
"hey!"
"they have all these crazy ideas about everything, like, crazy stuff about warping space to travel faster than light, or using black holes to make power!"
"see. told you they were idiots.who ever heard of warping space?"
"but thats the fucking point! theyre geniuses! 60 cycles ago they were living in mud huts, now they have inter-stellar travel!"
"liar! i thought you sraid they only lived for 10 cycles. you cant even get from here to wethea in thatr time."
"exactly! they built an entire fucking city in space and put rockets on it, now they can live in space full time, for generations."
"what, like the, um, that old myth-"
"the Tejahati?"
"the tejahati!"
"well obviously no. they dont breath starlight for one."
"so why do we need peace talks with them for anyway?"
"who knows? apparently theyre touchy, and very violent. they were under observation, apparently things got a little out of hand."
"out of hand? how?"
"something to do with some guy dying that caused 3 global conflicts, theyre blaming the observer vessel for starting it."
"ugh, politics. boring."
"you realise thats my job, right? im a diplomatic envoy."
"i know, i know. i just wanted a little dirt, thats all", at that the other one snickers. "what, whats so funny?"
"thats probably what theyre worried about, us wanting dirt. thats what they call their planet see."
"what, dirt?"
"dirt, mud, something like that"
"have you seen one yet?"
"what a human?"
"yeah, what else?"
"nope, not a picture, not even a visual description. ive been trying to work out what they look like based on the character summary that was sent back. it says theyre very highly adaptable. like, they can make plans decades in advance but change plans on the fly, liek really quickly and easily. and theyve covered their entire planet. every inch of the place has hmans living there, in deserts, jungles, at the poles."
"sop theyre surface dwellers then?"
"primarily yeah, but they also live under water, and theyve had humans living in space for nearly two cycles now too. they have this concept called terraforming, basically its a thing they do to make places hapitable that shouldnt be. the council wants to get them to terraform a few planets in the central system in return for membership."
"you think theyre like slykas? gods i hope not"
"arent slykas the big balls of slime? somehow i doubt it. thatd bake them the first non-skeletal predators in the galaxy. plus slykas arent very clever."
at this point i swim over to refil their drinks, not that their drinks need refilling, the two had forgotten about them, caught up in the conversation.
"you two dont half talk, you know that? humans this and earth that." my voice is muffled by the helmet, but im using a translator anyway, so it doesnt matter.
the sharply dressed one goes red in the face, "that is classified information! what did you hear?"
"no more than i already knew" i say.
"what do you know about them?" the other one asks me.
"a lot of lies and rumours probably, some people are convinced they have secret laser eyes."
"well clearly i know more about humans than either of you two, ive met more than a few of them too."
"liar, you cant have met them, theyre cycles away."
"thats what you think, trust me, im something of an expert."
"prove it!"
"didnt you hear about our warp drives?"
____________________________________________________________________________________
this story is related to another one im writing for another prompt: [part 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/6qsqmp/wp_major_events_on_earth_are_actually_aliens/dl0jv08/) | 2017-09-06T11:50:21 | 2017-09-06T11:18:46 | 25 | 15 |
[WP] You think you're the first person ever to exit the Milky Way Galaxy. On your way out, you see a sign written in English floating around in space. | It took decades of planning to get where I am, they invented new powering techniques, I trained my whole life, this ship cost as much as a large economy, all this to be the first.
Well it's all bullshit. Decades of racing through nothing to be the first to escape this galaxy as a bastion of new hope. What did I find? A fucking sign. "Turn around" now what was behind me.
A moon. A moon with "ha gottem" lazer carved into it.
Humans. We're the fucking worst. | First time doing this so shred me, (j/k plz don't hurt me!)
*Beep... Beep... Beep...*
Roberto put his coffee down, only an hour left on shift and of course the board had a blinking light on comms. It was probably Andy playing another prank. Regardless, it must be checked. Roberto rolled his chair over to the communications station and brought up the notifications screen.
>Incoming Transmission
>01010111 01100101 01101100 01100011 01101111 01101101 01100101 00100000 01010011 01100001 01101001 01101100 01101111 01110010 01110011 00001010 01010101 01010011 01001111 00100000 00110010 00100000 01000001 01010101 00001010 01010101 01000100 01010100 00101101 00110011 00110000
>End Transmission
Roberto sighed, definitely an Andy prank then. He mashed the intercom, "Andy I'm going to shave your beard in your sleep, you had to do this at the end of my shift?" He knew he would probably be hours decoding the message and then another hour with all the paperwork.
Andy poked his head around the corner, green eyes twinkling, but then falling into confusion. "Dude I put an airhorn under the navigation console to get you on your last check, but it hasn't gone off. Whatever it was, I didn't do it." Roberto's face did not indicate he believed Andy. Andy walked over to the navigation console and rummaged around for a minute coming up with a can of compressed air. Roberto was still unmoved, "That means nothing, you've pulled two pranks before. Just tell me what the message means so I can log it and go to bed."
Andy looked at the screen, "I'm not good with binary but the computer should be able to translate it right away."
"Yeah right, you expect me to believe you left this here in an unencrypted form?" Roberto was starting to get heated, how dare Andy deny this. All he wanted to do was get to bed on time. The sleep rotation was sacred, you just didn't screw with that.
*Beep*
>No Encryption detected
Roberto just stared at the screen for a moment. Andy grinned, "Told you so, now run a translation." Roberto glared at him, still sure it was somehow his doing, a prank within a prank. Andy elbowed his way in and ran the command.
*Beep*
>Welcome Sailors
>USO 2 AU
>UDT-30
They both stared at the screen for a minute. They looked at each other and Andy declared, "You did this! You know my great granddad went missing with UDT-30 during the war!" Roberto threw his hands up and shook his head.
"I would never fuck with that man. I'd shave that mustache in a second, but not that."
Andy just stared at the screen for another moment, "But then what was the Navy doing out here during world war 2?" | 2018-03-04T10:26:30 | 2018-03-04T09:59:51 | 42 | 10 |
[WP] You're the lesser known member of the Power Rangers, you are the person in charge of setting the explosives that detonate when the team strikes a pose. | Twenty-five years. Twenty-five years I've been doing this. When Zordon asked for five "teenagers with attitude", I'm sure that robot companion of his had to ask where the sixth "loader of explosives" came from. And believe me, I had to wonder about that myself! Turns out I had a bigger role than I thought:
"There will always be enemies who will try to take advantage of the Rangers state of vulnerability." Zordon said. "Your task is to make sure that never happens, but do it discreetly."
So, those explosions you always see? That's me. I don't get the flashy powers or the cool Zords or the neat weapons. I'm a guy with a rocket launcher and more heavy ordnance than one person should wield. Power Rangers doing lengthy introductions? Yeah, that's me at the end, blowing away Putties or Cogs or X-Borgs or whatever creep comes their way while distracted.
Or perhaps they've always known I've been back there. I've been in the game for years, travelling through time and space. Whenever there's explosions needed, I'm there. Heck, I hear there's a version of me that aids a group of Rangers collectively known as "Super Sentai"! And I'm Japanese! ...and doing it for nearly 50 years.
...aw, heck, if he does it for that long, so should I. Until the universe is safe. Now, if you'll excuse me, there's trouble about - guy named "Lord Drakkon" causing trouble, wanting to mess with the Morphing Grid and all that. Surprise, hot shot: explosions aren't connected to the Grid.
In the words of one of my favorites: It's Boom Time. | *'Ahem... ahem'* Stevie Blake, the local news reporter clears his throat, as per usual before going on air.
"5,4,3,2..." The man behind the large camera calls, gesticulating the countdown with his fingers.
Right after the cameraman gestures 1 last finger, the red light on the camera turns on and Stevie starts speaking in his confident, fast-paced tone. "Gooood day, everybodey! Today we're joined by the man himself. The one working behind the scenes, someONE - yes, he's a ONE man. You've probably already guessed who I'm talking about by the scenery behind me. The sixth Ranger - John!"
"Hello." The camera zooms out to include a scrawny, weird-looking guy, waving to the camera.
"So, John..." Stevie pauses dramatically, "Tell us a little about yourself, about what you do."
"Hmm... My name's John. I'm 19 years old. And I'm the explosives guy for the Power Rangers."
"Fascinating!" Stevie exagerates in his manner as usual. "So you're basically the sixth Ranger."
"I wouldn't say it like that..."
John tried finishing his sentence but was cut midway by the over-enthusiastic Stevie. "Whaaat a humble young man we have here. Now tell me, John - what is your part in the Power Rangers? We know that the Red Ranger is the Leader, the Blue Ranger is the smart, tech guy, the Yellow Ranger is assian. What about you? Do you have a color?"
"Well... Actually that's a misconception. I'm actually the tech guy, and Jake, hmm... I mean the Blue Ranger." He corrected himself quickly, "Just says what I tell him to say and do."
"Okay - so are you the real Blue Ranger?" Stevie stares at the camera, his eyes widened with fake shock.
"Not exactly. I don't have a color yet, but I'm striving for the White Ranger position."
"Fantastic! Good luck to you."
"Thank you." John looked comfortable for the very first time since the interview started.
"Now, John - please tell us why you brought us here. Towering over a field next to an unnamed car factory."
"Well, Stevie - you see, my part in the Rangers can be summed up in two words - 'pattern predicting'. I see patterns - draw conlusions - and react acordingly, after of course telling the Rangers what I discovered. And today I found out the whereabouts of the bad guys before they even knew they'd be here."
"Awesome! And what is going to happen now?"
"I arrived here earlier and set up a couple explosives here and there." John drew out a small detonator - "And this bad boy here will activate them at my command."
"Tha'ts amazing. What now?" Stevie didn't finish his sentence as he saw 2 shitty-looking cosplayers appear out of thin air holding maces and lances.
"Woah! How did you know?"
"That's not even the best part. Wait for it..." John smiled.
Not a minute passed and the Rangers appeared with all their might.
"1,2,3,4,5... and 6 of them!" Stevie exlaimed, genuinely surprised.
"Wait, what?" John brushed his glasses.
"Yes." Stevie turned to the camera again and started listing the Power Rangers from left to right "We have here the Yellow Ranger, the Green Ranger, the Red Ranger in the lead, the fabulous Pink Ranger, the Blue Ranger and... The White Ranger! What a pleasant surprise! Looks like the family has expanded!"
"You've got to be kidding me..." John was shocked. "They told me I'd get a trial as the White Ranger..."
"Wait - did you not know about that at all?"
"Motherf..." John started but Stevie cut him as the cameraman turned away to show the battle zone.
"Ladies and Gentlemen - it looks like we've gotten rare footage of a battle zone in action!" Stevie was almost screaming, to censor whatever John was muttering.
"Oh, yeah?" John's voice was heard in the background, "I'm done with this shit..."
A strong thud was heard and in the heat of the battle - an enormous explosion in the shape of a mushroom appeared.
Stevie was left speachless.
The camera focused on the flaming field, but no movement was seen. The camera slowly panned out and turned to John, who was maniacally laughing all this time.
The screen went dark.
**Edit: grammar | 2018-03-19T05:14:55 | 2018-03-19T01:50:37 | 100 | 40 |
[WP] Aliens arrive but do not attack. Instead, they say they’ll choose 100 humans to try and convince them they shouldn’t destroy earth. You are up next, number 100, with nobody else in front of you accomplishing the goal. Save earth | "Dessert." I say with confidence as of it was the most obvious thing in the universe.
"What?" The extraterrestrial askes a bit perplexed
"Dessert. Have you ever tried a warm cinnamon roll, or a fresh baked cookies, or a scoop of ice cream? Oh dear lord and I'm just scratching the surface." I say my mouth begining to water.
"I have not tried any Terran dessert as you call it. Very well. Do you know where I may aquire some of this so called dessert?"
"I do."
One hour, three slices of key lime pie and a can of whipped cream later.
"My goodness Terran this is the most amazing thing I have ever injested and there are hundreds more of this?"
"There is. So will you let Earth live I peace."
"I am still unsure, yes this pee."
"Pie it's pronounced pie."
"Yes pie is amazing but your planet is still wrack with choas and miserey and dispear that must be overcome I'm not sure I can just let it go over one terran dish.",
"Well here's the thing if you attack our planet we wouldn't be able to make any more desserts, we'd be too busy fighting you."
"Our species will leave yours alone no questions asked." The extraterrestrial answered as the clutched the half empty pie tin towards him."
"I had I feeling you'd come around to my way of thinking." I chuckled.
| Why?! God, why? I had been waiting for hours on end, thinking, screaming to myself, hoping and praying that someone ahead of me could do it. Someone else, anyone else! We had the world's greatest lawyers and politicians, all up here vying for earth's salvation, but with no one completing the task.
As I was ushered into the council chamber, the aliens looked at me smugly. The floating cameras that tracked my every move made me feel the gaze of all the trillions of people on earth. I imagined they'd already resigned themselves to it, to the fate that I surely couldn't stop. What could I say, what point could I argue that would drive home to these... these madmen that we deserved to live? How could I grovel for my planet's survival better than the ninety-nine men and women before me?
I took my seat, thinking of all the things I knew. Gaming, anime, television, books, comics. Maybe that was my answer? The politicians before me had brought up things like the earth's natural beauty, our world's seemingly unique capability to maintain life. All these points, though, were easily refuted.
The aliens came from a galaxy far out of human reach where there were thousands of earth-like "Goldilocks" planets, as our scientists knew them. For these aliens, earth was a dime a dozen. Nothing new or noteworthy- not to mention, we were already destroying it ourselves. Why, then, should they not destroy it? End the dying planet's misery, and permanently depose its irresponsible human tenants in the process.
"Human! You try our patience. Have you nothing to say, candidate 100? Do you elect to simply send your planet to its doom? Is humanity's last hope that much of a coward?" The headmaster of the alien tribunal looked down at me, a smirk on his face. He was toying with me.
"No, no of course not. Merely... gathering my thoughts." A bead of sweat dribbled down my neck, and I gulped softly. It was now or never. I had no more time. What was it that always saved the day?
There was my answer. It was the dumbest, most cliche thing in the universe. If this worked, whatever entity penned the book of fate would need to take some writing lessons. But it was all I had. The one thing that everyone on earth agreed would save the world when all else failed.
"Humans have an ability... that no other species can understand. It's useless, grants no evolutionary advantage, and even hinders our mating infrastructure." I glared determinedly at the tribunal, committed to my argument.
"Humans have the ability... to love. To feel such an incredible connection with another member of our race that we would consign ourselves to the rest of our natural lives with only one other person. It's based on a chemical, but the feeling is so much more. It's something so powerful that it can build and destroy civilizations... a power that can protect the most fragile of beings... and fell the most insurmountable of enemies. Love is something that we all understand, all search for, that we fight for, and we die for. So please! Stop! In the name of love!" I bent forward, facing the ground. My eyes were shut tight, sweat pouring from my body at the exertion that I gave with my proclamation.
A moment of silence. A scoff... and heavy laughter. "What kind of... grade-school bullshit is that? Love? You even mentioned it's nothing but a chemical! Haha, what kind of saps do you take us for! Good-bye, humanity."
A flash of light transported me from the tribunal room to the center of a large field. I was surrounded by 100 souls, the other people who had given all they had to save our planet. The other people who had failed. We all said nothing to one another. We simply looked up at the massive space ship that blotted out the sky, watched as its colossal cannon whirred and spun to life. We clung to one another and waited as the world became naught but ash. | 2018-05-28T11:51:23 | 2018-05-28T09:59:49 | 18 | 12 |
[WP] You’ve had many assassination attempts on you. You’ve survived them all thanks to being able to see 1 day into your life and whomever else you choose. One day to your horror you see someone hiring an assassin who can also see into the future. | 24 hours.
That's how much time I had to fix this shit show.
Here's the thing, I can see exactly one day into the future. I can also see one day into one other persons future. Fun fact, I can also see the changes based on choices I make right now. Done right, I can test a few scenarios.
Let's see...
Well, the assignment has already been made, can't just hire the assassin to take out my enemy. ...sigh... it is so much easier when that works.
Let's see... oh, it's Friday. There we go. if I make a point of looking at the winning lotto tickets for tomorrows draw... good.
OK. So I can now get the winning ticket... looks like it will be just me too.
Next, I need to meet my would-be-assassin. Somewhere safe and where she won't expect me... Perfect, breakfast at her hotel...
Offer to pay her off... Ask her to take out whoever placed the hit... can't be too safe...
OK, good. Safe again.
Alright, let's run one more look through the future, make sure I got it all right.
Wait, what... I'm at the hotel restaurant,... she's not at her table... BULLET TO THE HEAD?????!!!!!!!
HOW THE FUCK DID SHE KNOW I WOULD BE there?
Calm down, calm down. I can figure this out.
How about I leave her a note under her hotel room door. There we go, that should work.
Review...
FUUUUUUCK. Bullet to the head as I lean over to slip the paper there.
She knows.
How, how could she know.
No one has ever been able to change the future like that.
Let me try a different scenario...
What if I chose to go to a police precinct and just sit my ass down there...
Hmmm... the 24 hours are clear. Can't see what happens after though. Think this is not a good plan.
And if I leave just be the 24 hours?
Yup, dead. Fuck.
Let me just follow her day. Huh, it's blank. Can't read it at all. It's just a blur of possibilities. THAT NEVER HAPPENS.
Ok, let me try this again. I choose to stay in this spot for the next 24 hours. Now, let me see what she is up to...
Crap, she kills me in 1 hour. Well, 53 minutes and 48 seconds, but who cares about details.
I've got to move.
How is she doing this? Ok, head away from her current spot. Let's make it take her more time to get to me at least.
How the fuck is she doing this?
?
?
!
SHE'S LIKE ME.
fuck, I'm doomed.
Maybe if I kill her?
Scenario 1... me dead
2... me dead
3... hey I win
Recheck... dead.
4-10 dead
fuck.
that's not going to work. Every change, she just adapts.
WAIT...
What if I convince the hit taker to cancel?
Nope
Nope
Nope
Yup... fuck, she still kills me, and yes she got the cancel message.
Holy fucking shit.
Calm down, think. There has to be a way through this.
You know this city... I just need a public spot with no sniper sight lines. Somewhere that if she comes at me, she will be identified and caught.
Got it. Inside Museum of Natural History, one of the halls without windows.
huh, she's already heading there too.
keep my mind blank.
keep my mind blank.
CVS, perfect. Get thick sharpie and white T-Shirt.
Go in museum.
Wear shirt. Write front back everywhere: "Don't. I am like you."
Review. She stops. reads. Good.
Rewind. Write: "Please don't kill me."
Review: Now she's wearing a white T-shirt. "Why?"
Rewind: all the way back to my current location. Write on a piece of paper, "Because we are Alike."
Review: In her hotel room on the stationary: "So."
"But I've never met anyone like me."
"You are still my mark."
"So?"
"Professional ethics"
"And..."
"I'll never be able to work again."
"You know that we can both choose any moment to win the lottery and never have a care in the world again."
"They'll put a hit out on me."
"And? Do you know how many hits I've survived. I am sure you have too."
"I just... It's what I'm supposed to do."
"According to whom?"
"whom?"
"Yes, that's grammatically correct."
"giggle"
"..."
"..."
"Will you go out on a date with me."
"Yes!" | Time is a funny thing. It is supposed to be linear. Just flowing one way. And that's it. But have you ever been engrossed in a nice book and time sort of flew by? Or been sitting next to someone in the bus who probably didn't shower today and every minute seems like an hour? Then there's the real fun part. Someone like me. Who can bend the plane of space and time and look forward. You know how people get deja vu. Well, I get visions of the future. Visions that often come true. The only times they don't, is when I don't let them. After all, how do you kill a man who always knows what's coming.
So I change the future the way I see fit.
This ability has brought me a lot of prosperity. And gained me many an enemy too. I always take risks when I want to. Just because I know I can get away with it. Doesn't mean they don't try.
Today I saw a vision again. An unknown man. Cleverly hiding in a hooded jacket. Hiring someone to kill me. Oh joy. Another one. I haven't killed anyone in "self defense" for a while now. I look at the meeting in progress. But something is off here. My spidey sense tells me this guy is different. And then he turns around. He stares directly at me and smiles. That's impossible of course. How can he... Unless. Unless, he's like me.
I've heard rumours. This legendary hitman who never missed. Before long I realized that if the stories I heard were true, it was no ordinary man. It was someone with abilities. And I researched him. A pet project if you will. I knew that sooner or later our paths would cross. And today the day has come. My toughest battle yet.
***************
It was all anonymous. An email recruiting me for a job. A low level criminal. He's been a thorn in the side of the local gambling gangs. Small time guy. I wasn't sure why they couldn't take it out on their own. As I reach the meeting place a sense of unease passes over me. Something is off. Something weird. A hooded figure. He is standing in the shadows waiting for me. A briefcase in hand.
"Why don't you come out and let's start out business?"
"I'm afraid this needs to be completely anonymous."
"I'm sorry but I don't do business like this. If you can't trust me, how can I trust you."
"You don't need to trust me. You need to trust my money. On behalf of Don C, I'm paying you one million. In cash. No obligations at the moment. I am trusting you with this money. Take this money. Kill the man. Take another million. If you don't, we're down one million. But that's small change compared to what this guy has made of us."
"Well if you can trust me why not come out and play."
"It's not a trust thing you see. It's fear. I have reason to believe that this is no ordinary guy. He sees things. I fear for my safety. I'm pretty sure he's watching this meeting. Somehow. Someway."
That sent a chill up my spine. That was my secret. I could see things. Could there be another like me out there?
"What do you mean he's watching?"
"We can't explain it. Anyone we have sent. He's killed them. Almost like he knew they were coming. Like some sort of precognition."
I smiled. This would be fun. Another of my kind? And now my unease makes sense. I look around smiling. **"Do you see me? I'm coming for you."**
"Don't worry about it. I'll take care of him. You have a picture?"
He handed me a picture of a middle aged man. Didn't look too much of a threat. But with preparation, anyone can be good enough. He also handed me a phone.
"This phone has a number saved in it. It belongs to the big boss. When it's done, you have to give him a call. If we receive any information that can help you, we will give you a call on this as well. Keep this phone on you at all times. I'm gonna disappear now. I don't want this guy to follow me to wherever the Don is hiding. So I'm going to avoid any contact with anyone."
But I wasn't really focused on him. I was more focused on my adversary. The true test. The unstoppable force and the immovable object.
I got in my car and focused.
*********************
I go into my room. The preparations have been made already. A quick text. The big advantage I have is that I knew that sooner or later this day would come. I knew that there was someone with my abilities out there. All I can hope for is that he didn't. Otherwise, this would be a battle with no winner. We would be deadlocked and in a struggle where no one could possibly win.
I clutch at my left side. I was feeling a little breathless. But there was work to be done. I couldn't afford to lose any time. But the pain is increasing. I fall down in a heap. Somehow I get my phone out and call 911.
******************
First things first. I focused on the Don. Keep your enemies close, but keep the people paying you to kill other people closer. And I can see him. In a small dark room. I can't see the location. But the Don isn't leaving. Looks like what the messenger wasn't exaggerating. Don really didn't want this guy to find him. I looked at the phone he had given me. The Don had a similar looking phone in his hand. Waiting eagerly.
And now for the main event. I focused on his picture. Time to take a look at how his next twenty four hours look. I see a small dark room. Not too different from the one the Don is in. Smaller and less decorated. But then, this guy is looting from just the Don whereas the Don loots thousands. I almost admired him. Brave. But his use of powers was trivial. He was content making a few thousands. When he could be making millions. I see what the next twenty four hours have in store for him. And it's kind of anti climactic to say the least.
I saw him falling down clutching at his heart. I saw him reach for his phone. An ambulance coming in to take him somewhere. I saw the hospital name. St Mary's. He was hooked up to the machines. I saw the nurse coming in to check up on him. She's cute. But she was worried. I could see it in her face. She talked to the doctor who came in for the check up. "Do you think he will wake up again?" The doctor gave her a look and both of them walked out. Well I couldn't really leave things to chance. Maybe he makes it or maybe he doesn't. But what I do know is that he will be at the hospital after about six hours. And I am pretty sure that a GSW to the head has a better kill rate than a heart attack. So I picked up my weapon and made my way to the hospital.
**********************
The ambulance snaked down the streets. The sirens loud and clear. As it pulls into the emergency entrance of the hospital, a man is waiting there. As soon as the vehicle stops, he shows the gun to the driver.
"Unfortunately, this man will not make it. To the parking garage now." And he gets in.
| 2019-01-11T12:59:14 | 2019-01-11T10:09:21 | 48 | 18 |
[WP] You are a multi-billionaire with a lovely wife, who is trying to kill you to inherit your fortune. You love her so much that you just don't have the heart to tell her you are immortal. | “Again? Son, you’ve got to stop letting this woman do this. One day I may be unable to restore your body”.
“I know dad, but when she’s not having an episode she’s an amazing woman. Kind, generous, and loving, it’s just this dark side of hers that she can’t control. I refuse to tell her either, I’d hate for her to suffer once the realization of how many times she’s killed me sets in.”
“You always were more like your mother, time to go son.”
As I watch my father’s realm fade, I feel my body again, a little headache per the norm, maybe a little more stiffness in my joints. I swear he lets rigor set in just to remind me that he’s the only reason I can’t truly die. My beloved wife had yet another episode last night and decided to carve my chest open with a paring knife. Sure those times suck, but she’s so creative. Phone? Laced with aconitite. Been randomly injected with potassium chloride, and succinylcholine a couple times. Even watched her shift during intercourse and couldn’t stop her as she slit my throat.
Luckily she will black out after an episode and dad and I can essentially reset everything before she wakes up. I worry about when she wakes up early. Sure I could leave her, but then she would end up in prison or an asylum, her darker half isn’t her fault and I don’t want her to suffer. Besides, when your dad is death incarnate, what can go wrong? | i told her that she could spend all my money if she wanted to.
I don't understand why she is still trying to kill me.
as i was sitting in the backyard pondering those questions with sadness, my wife called me from behind.
''honey, i'm going to the shopping mall. Do you need something ? ''
''oh no hon'' i say as i turn my head to look at her.
she was dressed in a gorgeous tight dress which was barely long enough to cover her thighs.
''do you want me to come with you ?'' i add while looking at her bare legs.
''oh no hon i'm going with a few friends of mine, you will get bored'' she replies with a smile and immediately starts leaving.
it was at this instant that it occurred to me : what if she had someone else ? that would explain her perseverance in trying to kill me.
she may want to take my fortune and live with another man.
that would also explain why she always dresses like that when she goes shopping.
as soon as i'm hit with this doubt, i call forth James, my trusted right hand.
''what can i do for you sir ? '' says james as he arrives running only 2 minutes after i called him.
you are going to follow my wife today, james. Tell me where she is going and who she is meeting with. make sure she doesn't notice you.
as james left with a nod, i left my chair and started walking near the pool. now i was really anxious. i couldn't wait to know what james would have to say this evening.
it was only 4 in the afternoon, and i knew my wife wouldn't come back before at least 9.
as i was walking back and forth around the pool, i started thinking about what i would do if she really had a man.
will i confront my wife and tell her that i found out about her affair ? what is she decides to leave me because of this ?
no, i can't tell her. i can't take that risk. i need to find another way.
i thought i was thinking about all those questions for hours on end, but when i looked at my clock, it was only 4.15. only 15 minutes had passed.
i couldn't just worry for 5 long hours waiting for what james would have to tell me. i decided to go back to the mansion and take a nap.
it was probably 8 when i woke up at the sound of my phone ringing. it was james.
''where are you james '' i asks as soon as i answer his call
''sir, i have some bad news... i'm currently seeing your wife walking with another man.'' james replies in a shaking voice.
as soon as i heard those words, i felt like my heart stopped beating for a few seconds. after what felt like a minute of silence, i started talking again.
''you know what you have to do, james. Make it look like an accident'' i say while taking a deep breath.
when i hung up the phone, i couldn't think properly. i went to the kitchen and asked the cook to make the dinner lighter than usual.
my appetite was almost gone, but i couldn't show any signs of my change of behaviour to my wife.
it was past 9.30 when my wife came home. she had at least a dozen bags in her hands. i'm always fascinated by
how much strength a woman can have if it is to carry her shopping bags.
''i'm starving honey'' she says as soon as she drops her bags near the entrance of the living room.
''the dinner is almost ready'' i reply with a forced smile.
as soon as we sit at the table, i ask my wife how her shopping went.
''oh you wouldn't believe me honey'' she says as she puts a piece of meat in her mouth.
''you remember my brother who just came back from italy ? the one that you haven't seen yet ? i just met him in the shopping mall''
the fork i was holding slipped from my hand before she finished speaking. it was at this exact same time that my phone beeped.
it was a new message. from james. I opened the message with my mouth open, in completely shock.
there was only one word in the message.
''done''. | 2019-07-31T08:07:34 | 2019-07-31T07:35:57 | 56 | 39 |
[WP] He knows he shouldn't. He really shouldn't. But Satan really loves the Christmas letters sent to him by dyslexic children. | *Dear Satan,*
*I haev been a good girl this* *~~eayr~~* *year.*
Satan curled the letter an let out a booming laugh. "No she hasn't!" he cackled before clutching his side stitch in delightful agony. He knew exactly how many schoolyard brawls she had started and trinkets she'd stolen since May.
His demon secretary, Urdanu, was on the phone beside Satan's desk. "No, of course we aren't opening them." He covered the mouthpiece and mouthed to Satan that the angels are already on the 40th floor and descending fast. A squad of angels were blasting through checkpoints to retrieve the few letters that were misaddressed to Satan.
Satan puffed his cigar and continued reading.
*I know what I aksed for last year was too ~~uchm~~ much, so I dont want a panda tsih year. Dad lost moms loket—*
"You mean *you* lost it, after taking it without permission and playing with it. This girl is getting coal, Urdanu! No question!"
*—and I was hopeing you cuold give me one like it. It was shaepd like a hart with a bear on top and it had pitucrs. Dad was sad. I know elves cant make picturse so just the locket please. Tanhk you Santa. -Love, Sammy*
Satan folded the letter and handed it to his secretary. "Send up a minor goblin to sneak into the girl's home and dig out a locket from a floor vent."
"Us, sir? Won't *they* handle it?"
"Fat chance. She's been lashing out badly since her mother passed and she hasn't confessed to any of it. Besides," Satan waived for the next letter, "why make her wait till Christmas." | Now, you may think it’s weird for the ruler of Hell to love things. After all, I’m eternally evil, and love is, well, not. Just because I don’t use 5 million utensils in the course of one meal, am a tad bit sarcastic, and am forever torturing the souls of people who did serious wrongs such as not being Christian, eating that slice of cake when they were on a diet, and listening to Christian Rock, doesn’t mean I can’t love stuff. Think about it, God hates stuff. Everything that puts someone down here is something God hates. Tell me then, how God can hate stuff, but I can’t love stuff. I mean, I love Freddie Mercury. I love Frank Sinatra. We hang out all the time. The thing is, I’ve been trying to hide one love of mine for a while. I’m a bit embarrassed by it, and if Beelzebub finds out, well he may just take over. You know that thread recently on Reddit, talking about my “brother Stan” and all his tortures. Well, let’s just say Beelzebub is Stan. Nobody wants Stan. See, I love Christmas letters to me.
Alright, you’re probably laughing right now, well guess what buddy? Laughing at others’ secrets is a sin. I’ll be glad to see you down here. Now, if you’re done, allow me to explain. I don’t love all Christmas letters, well I kind of do because asking for all those presents shows greed, and greed is a sin, so they’re all coming down to visit when they die, but no, I truly love Christmas letters to me. But wait you must ask, who writes a Christmas letter to the ruler of the underworld, the enemy of the lord, the most handsome of all angels, fallen, or still a bit pretentious? Well, while the last one does get me love letters, I notice dyslexic kids actually send me Christmas letters. I guess for some reason their brain makes them spell Santa as Satan. Anyways, for some reason I find it nice to see. I know my mind should work like Scrooge’s or the Grinch’s, but I do love Christmas. I already mentioned the greed, but there’s so much more. When it comes to sales and people killing each other for them, as well as killing family when they come over, everybody looks at Thanksgiving and Black Friday. Christmas shopping, I’ve determined, starts on Black Friday, so it’s a part of Christmas. We also hate family year round, and we see them all on Christmas as well, so all those sinful Thanksgiving actions become sinful Christmas actions. Mistletoe, can lead to adultery. I’m serious. God believes kissing somebody other than your soulmate, and I mean actual soulmate, even if you’ve never met, counts as adultery. Now think of everyone you’ve kissed under mistletoe. Yeah, I’m getting souls for that.
Thus, with all the sins Christmas has given me, I felt I ought to help out. So, every year a dyslexic kid sends me a Christmas list, I get them everything they asked for. In my mind when I see those letters, it lights up my world. Sure, Christmas is the celebration of the birth of God’s kid, and it’s mascot is a fat saint, but that makes it so much better. My two favorite kinds of comedy are dark comedy and irony. The best being when they merge. Plus, it’s rare that you hear someone say they love me. Satanists don’t count. They just run around burning sticks and staring at the butts of goats. Yeah, they’re all coming down here, but their love is fake. These little kid letters though, you can feel the love. It’s almost as if, whose holiday this really is. Which Christian figure really gets celebrated on Christmas. If you’re human and read this, could you write me a Christmas list too? With how much you love me, and a jar of cookies please. And if you're a demon, don’t you see now, you don’t have to replace me for this. These Christmas letters, and the whole holiday, are sins. I’m just giving love to sinners expressing their love to sin, and realizing who they’re doing it for. Normally people sin for their family, or their job, or even complete strangers they met on a Discord server for anime fans. Yet, these dyslexic children admit that they sin for me. That they love me. They ask me to give them things, and when I give you things, I get your soul. | 2019-08-08T21:30:49 | 2019-08-08T18:18:45 | 671 | 55 |
[WP] Upon us entering intergalactic civilization, we discover that the Milky Way wasn't where we came from, but where we were banished to. All of civilization is horrified that we survived and returned from the universe's harshest galaxy. | The chamber erupted into shouts, dozens of species shouting at each other in as many languages, over the trio of beings that stood on the assembly floor.
It took a full fifteen minutes, by the reckoning of Cpt. Mactavish’s pocket-watch, to quiet down.
“Quiet! Silence in the assembly!” A large four armed and red alien yelled. Two of his arms clutches a gnarled staff.
“Assembly members!” The captain called out, his medals clinking as he moved. “I still don’t understand what the issue is...”
“The issue is, your species was supposed to be torn to shreds on that hellish rock we put you on.” The red one shouted back, a growl underlying it all.
“For what?”
“For crimes against the galaxy. Your species has done nothing but fight itself and every other race that attempted to keep you safe from yourselves.”
“Ah.” A smile couldn’t be stopped from creeping across his face. “We don’t really like being controlled, that tracks.”
“See! They haven’t changed in the slightest.” A green alien that looked like a collection of vines hissed “He admits it. We should finish the job once and for all.”
The assembly rumbled again. He fingered the silver disc in his hand.
“We are more than our conflict, surely you can see that. We’ve created art, and music, and great works-“
“And what did you do when you arrived in inhabited space??” The red one spoke again.
“That’s ridiculous, your ships opened fire on ours before we even opened communications.” That shut him up. Well, he still growled.
“You all seem determined to pigeon-hole us-“ there was a bit of confusion in the hall. “-into being the monsters you all think we are! We wish to explore the stars. It’s been the grand wish of our species as long as we can remember!”
“And yet you travel in warships.”
“We didn’t know what we’d encounter, we thought we should be prepared for every possibility. And you proved us right. Thirty seven dead, one-hundred-sixty-seven wounded all without prior warning.”
Many members of the assembly shifted and looked to each other.
“This is the largest loss of life in a military exercise in the last 10 years, by our system of course. And only 11 were military personnel.” Mactavish let his cap shadow his eyes for a moment and gripped the silver disc in his hand ever tighter. “By my people’s recollection, you all are the monsters.”
Mactavish thought the rumble he felt was just in his chest, the result of a speech well executed. He only realized he was mistake when the two marines at his side stepped forward in defense.
The whole chamber was shaking, a few bits and pieces of the ceiling crumbling down.
“What the hell is going on?!?” Mactavish shouted, drawing his service revolver.
“The Zer’ai. The species that took your place as the warmongers of the galaxy.” The red one said again, a holographic display emanating from its staff showing the Assembly station surrounded by red dots.
“Really? Why didn’t you exile them?”
“We-...we discussed it and decided it was...unethical.”
“Well, aren’t you all just a bunch of hypocrites. You lucky that we’re here to help you.”
“What? No! Don’t you dare bring more of yourselves here. How do we know that you won’t turn on us?”
“You need a monster to kill a monster-“
Mactavish looked around at the crumbling Assembly chamber.
“-and frankly, you don’t look like you have much of a choice.” He put the disc he’d been clutching to his ear. “The is Captain Jameson Mactavish, serial number 17456, calling all elements of the 7th, 9th and 13th fleets to aid in the defense of diplomatic VIPs. Shock to my position and destroy all ships attacking the Assembly station.” He looked to the red alien, who had turned purple in the cheeks in a way he had to was anger. “You all seem to think we’re only good for one thing, so why don’t we put that thing to good use. Take a chance ambassador, we might surprise you.”
The chest-born rumble of shock drive jumps finishing within real space could be felt a moment later, and the red dots started to disappear from the holo.
“Good day ambassador. Perhaps we can pick this conversation up at a later date.” | [[gaseous emission carbon increases, a hint of toluene is introduced, flapping frequency of emitting orifice varies greatly]]
&&frequency of pulsating light increases, data density is increased, stream switch from trinary to octal occurs&&
++magnetic field fluctuations plummet, antennae fully extend++
"So, what's going on?" I ask my host and translator. He is bipedal, and his name is a string of ones and zeroes, expressed in two different colors I cannot see. I call him Fred.
The translator speaks in a musical voice. It sounds to me like a hot chick. "Be at calm dnorg, the representatives of the welcoming committee are merely discussing administrative matters, they will attend you presently".
Upon a gently curved dais, about half a meter high, are three of the ugliest sons of bitches I have ever encountered. Undiplomatic of me to say so, but they smell like a fire in a chemical plant. One of them sounds like he/she/it is trying to fart out a rap song, and another looks like a coat hanger fight. The last one looks like a jigsaw that someone hammered together without looking at the picture on the box, or even caring if the pieces fit together. I get the sense that they are discussing something tiresome and humdrum, and am glad that the universal translator human - adaption edition - has not yet been completed. BORING. All I wanted was a treaty and and a trade deal. Look, the first guy who meets a new culture can make serious coin, and that guy was me. All I needed was to look out for number one, and everything was going to be peachy keen.
[[Merciful oblivion, the being is even more terrifying up close. I fear him greatly. I wish to initiate auto-extinction and expire immediately]]
&&A species that wages war. Entropy upon us all. The monsters thrived, instead of dying in prison. We should command the Annihilator Fleet to destroy them.&&
++My analysis indicates it uses only its frontal lobe for the purposes of cogitation. The rest of the brain must be reserved for anger and murder.++
Fred made some gesture with one of his hands, and a chair extruded from the floor. Neat trick. I sat down, and damn and blast, but it was comfortable as hell. I leaned back, to see if a back would automagically extrude from the chair itself, but it didn't. That was a disappointment. I almost fell over backwards, but caught myself just in time. I didn't think the functionaries on the dais noticed anyway. I knew what improvements I'd make to their chair technology - backs on chairs, rocking chairs, hammock chairs, man these guys were using stools instead of exploiting their tech to the fullest. I was going to completely blow their minds, and coin it. Dildo chairs! Yeah, that would be sweet. Assuming that we could come to a trade deal, I suppose. I think they had picked the 'welcoming committee' to be dry emotionless bureaucrats, born for endless detail and indifferent to anything that wasn't filed in triplicate.
[[The creature must be informed. But I shall not do it, the probability matrices indicate my demise if such an outcome becomes reality]]
&&It made a gesture when it sat down. I fear it made to threaten us. I have soiled myself and shamed my family.&&
++I shall explain to it. Even though it will surely cause the extirpation of my life. It must be told.++
Fred turned to me and the translator began to speak again. That sexy, sexy voice, oh yeah.
"Peace to be with you and at you. The story of your species is shared among us. It be to shared with also you. Of the the knowing is the crime. War the greatest crime. Humans made to war greatly, many perished. To punish humans did the Ethical Alliance come to be. Many battles. Many entities became atoms of componency. We mourned them then, we mourn them still. Humans were banished, imprisoned a million years ago. In Galaxy 78744, to be outcast forever."
Well that was a shut up, sit down moment. I mean, everyone expected some sort of culture shock, but really. To be be the ancient bogeymen of alien cultures was a bit much. And I had been worried about chairs. This was going to complicate things, I doubted we would get premium trade deals if they all had bad attitudes towards us. I moved my tongue in a particular pattern that triggered a sub-delta pulse that would alert the Third Fleet that things were off to a rocky start. Like all fleets since the Great Peace of 2357, it was entirely unarmed. But at least it would be prepared for imminent departure if the talks failed.
I cleared my throat and addressed the dais. "Surely what happened a million years ago should not prevent us from reaching an understanding?"
Once again the translator spoke. Oh man, that voice. So damn sexy.
"Enhanced the knowing shall be. Many who survived the human aggression murder wars yet live. Guilt of many murder kills be upon humans."
That stunned me. They could extend life for a million years? Man, fuck chairs. This was the real deal. Also, they had just made a big mistake. Again I addressed the dais. "No humans now live who took part in any alleged crimes, and it is immoral to hold anyone guilty of crimes they did not commit. Further, individuals commit crimes, not species. No one can be considered guilty merely because they are members of a particular species." I smiled to show that I was still friendly, but concerned.
[[How can a creature who's cogitationary mechanism is a small frontal lobe produce such an argument? My desire for self-death has intensified]]
&&It has bared its teeth, a universal gesture of hostility. Command the Annihilator Fleet to prepare for a Peace Mission&&
++I will endeavor to turn it from the path of death war murder, though all paths within the probability matrices now lead to cataclysm++
Sexy translator voice spoke up again. "Peace be at you, submission to you we grant, a great Peace Mission trepidates and waits, oh let the atoms of componency retain their current configurations!"
Now this was more like it! A peace mission was great. And a 'submission' meant they would put forward a deal. Luckily, that whole 'your species committed murder a million years ago' thing wasn't going to complicate things, and we could get down to money talk. Trade. Goods. Riches. Oh man, I was going to be so fucking rich. I jumped up, and grinned. "This is great! Let's bury the hatchet!"
&&A promise of war, as feared. Annihilator Fleet Peace Mission attacks. Human species extinction begin&&
[[Failure. Humans have retained murder war as their constant companion. Eradication imperative.]]
++Their sun has been made to nova. Human aggressions destroy peace for the last time++
I sat back down. Victory was sweet indeed.
Less than ten thousand kilometers away, the Third Fleet disintegrated under the onslaught of the Annihilator Fleet, and one by one, the suns of human star systems went nova. | 2019-11-14T20:54:00 | 2019-11-14T17:41:26 | 92 | 45 |
[WP]You receive a message, "Reply Yes if you can survive the last video game you played." You answer Yes. Your vision blanks and you open your eyes finding that you are at the beginning of said game. You hear a voice "To leave you must win. Your prize is all you gain in this world. Good luck" | I didn't even think before I gave the answer, and as I woke up I felt the lump in my throat. As the feeling returned to my body, I felt a rejuvenating pain sear through every cell. My bones were scored with classified information, my brain etched into by a mind much greater than mine. I stretched my shoulders and felt the weightless tank welded to me. The next month would be hell.
I had done it, I had walked through hell and back. I had pushed back assault after assault, I had broken down beasts stronger than myself with my bare hands. I had learned to shoot, to fly, to kill. I walked through irradiated glass without flinching, I bore witness to the destructive power of a singularity, and saw the sunrise from orbit as I came crashing down. I had saved countless lives with the precision of a mathematical vector. I had seen architecture so alien it left me speechless. I had escorted and delivered my charge without her receiving a scratch, I held off an offensive the likes of which my kind has never seen with a single gun.
But now, now I walk to the end, and I know what waits for me here. My hud, which has guided me this far has a single word on it now. "Survive" and for a time, I do. I mow them down like a field of hay, hot plasma rounds are winnowing grain from the chaff. My impenetrable shield broke some time ago, and I feel the blood pooling inside of my suit. The visor on my helmet shatters, and I toss it to the side. I pick up a weapon completely alien to me and use it with surgical precision.
I know I won't survive this, I always knew that from the second I woke up. I won't live to tell the tale, I won't conquer this endless sea of snarling fangs and glowing blade. I can't imagine the horror in their minds as I rip the blade out of my stomach and return it to its owners head. I've killed thousands in an hour, I've broken their bones, riddled them with holes, and turned some into what looks like mincemeat. I overheard one call us "demons", and I'll give them a reason to do so.
It comes to and end when the last clip runs dry, and the only weapons on the field are pointed at me. I can't finish the fight, but I can inspire others to do so. To remember to fight to the last, to never give up against impossible odds, to-- to remember me, to remember Reach. | *Beagle's journal - Day 1*
I couldn't believe it at first—I refused to—but as the day wore on, as the sun warmed by body and the pain of hunger quickly became real, I had to accept my new reality.
This world. This beautiful, vast, dangerous world. I've visited it enough to know it well from a bird's eye view, but never long enough to say I'd conquered it—never had my colony actually survived.
The road is long, it will take years by in-game time to achieve the final goal, and one thought has followed me like death since I arrived here: who's deciding the events and what difficulty are they set to?
____
*Beagle's journal - Day 5*
As with the standard starting scenario, I've spawned with two fellow colony members. Bear is a massive fellow who seems comfortable with a rifle in hand, and he successfully defended our camp from two manic rats that seemed hell bent on devouring us all; though, it's become apparent that he has an unhealthy obsession with setting things on fire. I'll need to keep my eye on him.
My second companion goes by Greenly, and her skills with plants, preparing food, and training animals will be essential to our survival. I find her quite attractive, and I'm not sure how that makes me feel. Are these people real? Or are they simply pawns in this game I've been sucked into?
I've managed to build us a shelter using the wood Greenly provided by felling trees, and Bear assisted by digging into the mountain side. With a natural wall of granite at our backs, I feel that we will be safe from any threat.
Though it's still summer, the air is cooling fast, and in a few short months I believe these woods will be thick with snow. Our primary goal is to harvest enough rice to last the winter, and we'll need electricity to properly store it and, more crucially, to stay warm. Funny enough, when Bear isn't chewing up granite or shooting rabid animals, he's hunched over the crude research table figuring out how to propel us forward technologically—I just hope he doesn't set his notes on fire.
Everyone is getting testy with one another, but I'm nearly finished building a dining table and three chairs. I think having a proper place to eat will drastically improve our moods.
We had a cat, Morpheus. He was eaten by a wolf.
____
*Beagle's journal - Day 27*
An attack on our fort has left Bear a bit bloodied, but he'll survive. It turns out Greenly is well versed in medicine, which makes her all the more attractive to me. She mentioned the possibility of amputating Bear's injured leg and replacing it with a more efficient prosthetic, but noted that she lacks the skill and tools. The thought made me uneasy, I hope she doesn't bring it up again.
The attacker was a wild, nude women, and she managed to bite a decent bit out of Bear's calf. She used the boulders and trees as cover until she was within biting range, so I've begun clearing the area in front of our defensive point of debris. Bear gave her a couple of hits to the head with the butt of his rifle, knocking her unconscious, and I built a makeshift prison near our stockpile. I don't think she's worth the extra resources, but Greenly insists that if we nurse her back to health, she might have something to offer us as a colony. I trust her judgement.
Winter is nearly here, and we've managed a decent stockpile of rice. I've built electrical lines through the main lodge, but I'll have to wait until Bear is back up on his feet to continue; none of us can dig the steel from the mountain like he can. Once he's back at it, I'll have a few heaters going to keep warm.
_____
*Beagle's journal - Day 34*
Snow. It's falling silent and beautiful tonight, and with it comes the constant threat of death. The temperature has fallen dramatically, but we've prepared well.
With my heaters placed strategically throughout the fort, we're more than comfortable so long as we're not working out in the machine shop—I still don't have the steel to run lines out that far.
Our prisoner, Meica, has turned ally, and she's proven immediately useful. She has a knack for crafting clothing, using most of the hide we gathered early on from wild animals to fit us all with cozy parkas and beanies. I was right to trust Greenly, our strength grows with our numbers.
She and I have taken to playing chess for an hour before bed each night, and it's come to be my favorite part of the day. I built us two wolf-hide chairs to rest in as we play, and she joked that bits of Morpheus must be mixed into the cushions. She's got a dark sense of humor—I like that.
No chess tonight, though. We watched Bear and Meica build a snowman outside, nestled close together by a fire, comfy in our winter attire.
The granite wall I've been constructing around the compound is finished—double the thickness of our lodge's walls—and I feel safe inside with my friends.
It's nights like these that get me thinking... Maybe I don't need to win? Maybe I could stay here forever...
___
/r/BeagleTales | 2020-02-16T19:03:05 | 2020-02-16T17:51:33 | 688 | 59 |
[WP]You receive a message, "Reply Yes if you can survive the last video game you played." You answer Yes. Your vision blanks and you open your eyes finding that you are at the beginning of said game. You hear a voice "To leave you must win. Your prize is all you gain in this world. Good luck" | I pick up the newspaper and accept the first job I see. It's unmemorable work and pays little, but with study and practice I'm soon in line for a promotion. I spend most of my time reading and taking care of a small ant farm. I miss the real world.
Spring comes, and in an attempt to use my time more productively I plant a few little rows of tomato plants. Talking to my plants helps stave off the loneliness of this strange situation, and that's when I see him—a man of average height and build dressed head to toe in the blue uniform of mail delivery. I say hello, and we end up talking for hours—there's no rush to make it to the next house in such a small town.
I ask him out. There's only one restaurant in town, but our first date is still a dream. We talk every day, and by summer he's moved in. My plants have gotten tall. We take a trip up into the mountains and eat pancakes and try fruitlessly to find a bigfoot. We adopt a cat. I take up violin. He becomes a warlock, and the completion of everyday chores becomes both risky and magical. The house is set on fire more times than I can count, but we never lose anything we can't replace.
Harvest time is beautiful. The light turns gold, and little red vegetables sprout everywhere. By now he's had as much of a hand in this garden as I have, and we are both so proud of ourselves and of each other. We eat excellent spaghetti for weeks.
The wedding is in winter. We put up an arch in the backyard, and snow piles onto it almost instantly. All of our friends are there. He holds a slice of wedding cake out as if to feed it to me, but mashes it into my face instead. I fall over laughing.
I begin to forget my previous life.
We have children and give up our day jobs to run a small farm. Time goes by at a strange speed. The kids grow up fast, and soon they run off to college or work and lives of their own. One of our kids becomes a werewolf, and another spends years staring at the stars—that one gives us our first grandchild, a healthy green-skinned little boy, but there are more.
We grow old. We've amassed an absolute fortune over the years, and retirement is easy. We go back to the little mountain tourist trap we loved so much in our youth and finally track down that bigfoot. The bigfoot comes home with us. He doesn't say much, but he helps out on the farm, and he loves the fancy human clothes we give him in return.
My husband passes first. The grim reaper greets him with hula dancers and a welcoming gesture. His tombstone is made of white marble and gold, and I take it with me when I move in with one of my kids. I watch my grandkids turn into surly and rebellious but talented teenagers.
I die.
I don't come back.
I was happy.
(The game was The Sims 2). | The voice faded into my mind as another came.
"Hey, Khontis. You seriously napping?"
My eyes opened as a strangely familiar face came to view.
"You sure know how to sleep. It was sure nice of Naoya ask us to meet him out here on a hot day like this, huh?"
I grunted and rubbed my eyes as I took him in, a blue t-shirt with a white hat, bright eyes and a bag with a laptop in it was slug over his shoulder. This was, in every sense, Atsuro.
Behind him stood a boy in a black shirt with headphones on, his eyes were careful and aware. "Kazuya met with us here." Atsuro continued, "So how have you two been? Normally I see you two during the school year so I feel like it's been forever."
Kazuya, known as Abel among his friends as his mobile handle...I couldn't help but wonder...Deep down inside how this would turn out.
Kazuya, the reincarnation of Abel. If this was the game I would think that position would be me. But with another here...
"Hey, what's wrong Khon? You doing okay?" Atsuro asked.
"Uh...fine. Anyway, what does your cousin want?"
"OH THERE You all are!" A female voice called.
"Oh hey, here comes YooHoo." Atsuro smiled.
I didn't need to look to know. A redhaired girl wearing pink. Her bag looked heavy, all I could think of as Yuzu yelled at the two boys for using her old nickname was if there was a COMP in there for me.
After a few bummed looks and sighs of disappointment Yuzu handed htem out. A blue one for Atsuro, a red one for Kazuya, a pink one for Yuzu.
She turned and tossed one into my lap.
And a purple one for me.
I opened it up but didn't bother turning it on. I knew it would have to wait for the rest, I also knew what would be said.
The Laplace Mail about the man near where Naoya lived would be killed. And later tonight the Wendigo would show up.
I would have to fight demons.
To be honest, I wasn't *too* worried. I mean at first I'd be really up a creek, always was the first time around with the first of the Bel's but I had played and beat this game so many times I understood the strategy. And I always loved the Megami Tensei games. But...
They were games. If I died here...
I'd have to live.
"Peaceful Days died. Lets survive" I whispered.
"Huh? what's wrong?" Kazuya asked.
"Nothing."
"Well... I need to do more research. Why don't you guys head off and hang around."
"Sounds good." Yuzu replied and I followed the pair as their conversation carried like I remembered.
It wasn't long before we heard a voice calling out.
"Now along with our Shomonkai, let us bring the world together! With the power of the internet the world will be one once more!"
Yuzu gripped along as Kazuya rolled his eyes and they spoke. Even more trouble.
"Hey! You coming?" Yuzu called as they moved through the crowds to leave. I held the comp tightly in my hands, not wanting to release it. There'd be trouble if I did. Soon...
I looked to my watch. It was almost six and we were walking by Omotesando.
I stood aside as the sirens wailed and Yuzu spoke about Naoya.
We hurried there, and like clockwork a tall man with long hair in a kimono looked to them. "Oh, its you guys. What are you doing here?"
His snake like eyes narrowed at me and I tensed.
Naoya, the reincarnation of Cain.
He spoke to them and continued onward past them toward me. I gritted my teeth as he spoke. "The door of truth will open. Overcome your fate."
He eyed me as they past and I glared at him. "I hope you can overcome this trial as well. Don't leave me disappointed." He whispered.
I glowered.
Naoya *knew* i didn't belong here.
"I'll try to impress." I remarked.
"What was that about?" Yuzu asked.
"Nothing. Lets go."
Kazuya's phone rang and sent us back to Atsuro.
He gave his usual computer talk before Yuzu called him to just unlock them.
I stood ready as they shined and four demons emerged. Kobold, Pixie and Kabuso all for them. Expected.
And before me going after me, was an ogre.
"Nice...Lets go!"
Yuzu screamed as the pixie went after her, Atsuro dodged the Kabuso's attack and Kazuya and I both seemed to be the first to jump to the fray.
The battle was simple but still, I could feel my adrenaline rush as I slammed into the Ogre a final time.
"YOU BEAT OGRE. OGRE NOW YOURS. USE ME IN FIGHT. FIGHT LOTS!" he said as he disappeared.
Yuzu began her freak out as Atsuro calmed her. Finally on the notion to go see Naoya we ended up back in his appartment.
"Look! It's Naoya's box!" Atsuro pointed.
"Yea. it's full of stuff. It looks like he hasn't been here in a long time." Yuzu agreed.
"So we were lucky to see my cousin."
Our Comps lit up with mail and as I read them I knew where they'd lead.
To the cemetary. To Amane.
"Should we go?" Yuzu asked.
"He did say 'person'" Kazuya noted.
"Yea. He would have said 'demon' or someone; if he meant anything else.Lets go." | 2020-02-16T22:28:25 | 2020-02-16T16:08:36 | 50 | 12 |
[WP]You receive a message, "Reply Yes if you can survive the last video game you played." You answer Yes. Your vision blanks and you open your eyes finding that you are at the beginning of said game. You hear a voice "To leave you must win. Your prize is all you gain in this world. Good luck" | My vision. Dark. Black. A void of nothing.
But then a flash of light. Blinding. Burning. As well as....steam. I'm standing in front of a bathroom mirror. My own face is starting back at me. My mouth is moving without my conscious control. "War never changes."
"You're gonna knock 'em dead at the Veteran's Hall tonight, hun." A woman walks behind me. Nora.
This is...Fallout 4? I'm in a video game.
My mouth continues to talk without me caring. I think of all the possibilities...
I had to act quick. The nuke would be dropping soon. I had no idea if it would work like the game, not triggering until I went through the proper steps. I didn't want to take that chance.
I comb through the house, trying to not seem too urgent, lest the NPCs suspect something. I try and find anything of value or use. Weapons, supplies, bottle caps. I brush past my robot butler, Codsworth. He rambles on about coffee.
I build a bundle of important items and stash them somewhere safe in the house. Codsworth would protect our home, no matter what.
The doorbell rings. I would have to answer if I wanted this to continue. Perhaps I can keep the salesman waiting...but if this isn't video game logic and he leaves...
I rush to the door and talk to him. He wants me to sign my family up for the Vault, an underground fallout shelter. In case of nuclear war.
But I knew their real motive. Twisted and insane science experiments. Thankfully Vault 111 wasn't too bad. Cryogenic stasis. I would unfreeze 200 years in the future, ready to explore a savage wasteland.
At least I'd have a ready stash of supplies waiting for me.
My train of thought is broken by the crying of a baby. Nora asks me to take care of him. My son, Shaun.
I reach his room, once more thinking about my steps once I leave the vault. But looking at Shaun stopped me.
He was my son. I was sure of that. He looked almost like I did from my baby photos. He had to be biologically mine. Truly my son.
I move through the motions of the tutorial. Making Shaun happy. Talking to Nora. Codsworth calls us into the living room.
The news broadcast is playing. Ron Perlman, bless that beautiful man, is delivering the news of nuclear war. The broadcast is suddenly shut off. Nuclear sirens are blaring around the neighbourhood.
Nora takes Shaun and leaves the house, running to the "safety" of Vault 111. Codsworth is urging me to go, pleading even. But can I?
I think of all the horrors that await me in the wasteland. Savage mutants, cannibal raiders, killer robots. This world seems so real. Can I handle that?
Not to mention Shaun. My son. Can I bear to lose him? To see what he becomes? Can I truly survive?
It would be so simple to wait. Wait for the nuke. Be incinerated in a blast of atomic fire. To never witness the horror. All I had to do was wait... | The voice faded into my mind as another came.
"Hey, Khontis. You seriously napping?"
My eyes opened as a strangely familiar face came to view.
"You sure know how to sleep. It was sure nice of Naoya ask us to meet him out here on a hot day like this, huh?"
I grunted and rubbed my eyes as I took him in, a blue t-shirt with a white hat, bright eyes and a bag with a laptop in it was slug over his shoulder. This was, in every sense, Atsuro.
Behind him stood a boy in a black shirt with headphones on, his eyes were careful and aware. "Kazuya met with us here." Atsuro continued, "So how have you two been? Normally I see you two during the school year so I feel like it's been forever."
Kazuya, known as Abel among his friends as his mobile handle...I couldn't help but wonder...Deep down inside how this would turn out.
Kazuya, the reincarnation of Abel. If this was the game I would think that position would be me. But with another here...
"Hey, what's wrong Khon? You doing okay?" Atsuro asked.
"Uh...fine. Anyway, what does your cousin want?"
"OH THERE You all are!" A female voice called.
"Oh hey, here comes YooHoo." Atsuro smiled.
I didn't need to look to know. A redhaired girl wearing pink. Her bag looked heavy, all I could think of as Yuzu yelled at the two boys for using her old nickname was if there was a COMP in there for me.
After a few bummed looks and sighs of disappointment Yuzu handed htem out. A blue one for Atsuro, a red one for Kazuya, a pink one for Yuzu.
She turned and tossed one into my lap.
And a purple one for me.
I opened it up but didn't bother turning it on. I knew it would have to wait for the rest, I also knew what would be said.
The Laplace Mail about the man near where Naoya lived would be killed. And later tonight the Wendigo would show up.
I would have to fight demons.
To be honest, I wasn't *too* worried. I mean at first I'd be really up a creek, always was the first time around with the first of the Bel's but I had played and beat this game so many times I understood the strategy. And I always loved the Megami Tensei games. But...
They were games. If I died here...
I'd have to live.
"Peaceful Days died. Lets survive" I whispered.
"Huh? what's wrong?" Kazuya asked.
"Nothing."
"Well... I need to do more research. Why don't you guys head off and hang around."
"Sounds good." Yuzu replied and I followed the pair as their conversation carried like I remembered.
It wasn't long before we heard a voice calling out.
"Now along with our Shomonkai, let us bring the world together! With the power of the internet the world will be one once more!"
Yuzu gripped along as Kazuya rolled his eyes and they spoke. Even more trouble.
"Hey! You coming?" Yuzu called as they moved through the crowds to leave. I held the comp tightly in my hands, not wanting to release it. There'd be trouble if I did. Soon...
I looked to my watch. It was almost six and we were walking by Omotesando.
I stood aside as the sirens wailed and Yuzu spoke about Naoya.
We hurried there, and like clockwork a tall man with long hair in a kimono looked to them. "Oh, its you guys. What are you doing here?"
His snake like eyes narrowed at me and I tensed.
Naoya, the reincarnation of Cain.
He spoke to them and continued onward past them toward me. I gritted my teeth as he spoke. "The door of truth will open. Overcome your fate."
He eyed me as they past and I glared at him. "I hope you can overcome this trial as well. Don't leave me disappointed." He whispered.
I glowered.
Naoya *knew* i didn't belong here.
"I'll try to impress." I remarked.
"What was that about?" Yuzu asked.
"Nothing. Lets go."
Kazuya's phone rang and sent us back to Atsuro.
He gave his usual computer talk before Yuzu called him to just unlock them.
I stood ready as they shined and four demons emerged. Kobold, Pixie and Kabuso all for them. Expected.
And before me going after me, was an ogre.
"Nice...Lets go!"
Yuzu screamed as the pixie went after her, Atsuro dodged the Kabuso's attack and Kazuya and I both seemed to be the first to jump to the fray.
The battle was simple but still, I could feel my adrenaline rush as I slammed into the Ogre a final time.
"YOU BEAT OGRE. OGRE NOW YOURS. USE ME IN FIGHT. FIGHT LOTS!" he said as he disappeared.
Yuzu began her freak out as Atsuro calmed her. Finally on the notion to go see Naoya we ended up back in his appartment.
"Look! It's Naoya's box!" Atsuro pointed.
"Yea. it's full of stuff. It looks like he hasn't been here in a long time." Yuzu agreed.
"So we were lucky to see my cousin."
Our Comps lit up with mail and as I read them I knew where they'd lead.
To the cemetary. To Amane.
"Should we go?" Yuzu asked.
"He did say 'person'" Kazuya noted.
"Yea. He would have said 'demon' or someone; if he meant anything else.Lets go." | 2020-02-16T23:04:10 | 2020-02-16T16:08:36 | 40 | 12 |
[WP] 50 years after killing the demon lord, you finally die of old age. You were known as a great hero and was buried in a tomb. One day, you get resurrected into a barren wasteland by a necromancer. “Quick, there’s no time to explain. If you wanna save the world then follow me.” | I glance around. My clothes are fine, woven from the same fabric of reality that created our universe. They will last as long as it does - though the people who buried me did not know that.
My sword is missing, as is usual. I know it's because metal causes the spell of resurrection to fail, and I bet it's been hidden away in some obscure temple or someplace.
"I understand.", I reply, brushing off the dust on my green tunic and white pantaloons that somehow seeped into my tomb over the millennia.
I stand up, exclaiming, "You aren't the first, you know!".
The necromancer looks at me quizzically.
"And in the event I fall, I expect you raise me again."
The necromancer's face falls.
"And again, and again.", I wink.
The necromancer sighs.
I wink again, and extend my open left hand to him. In my mind, I'm going, "Say it! Say it! Say it!"
The necromancer sighs again and hands me a wooden sword, spouting the words I so wanted to hear - "*It's dangerous to go alone! Take this!*"
"It's Ganon?"
The necromancer nods.
Link's back, reawakened. Let's do this! | The hero Jack found himself in the middle of a graveyard, surrounded by thick fog. A man in a tattered suit stood beside the headstone of the grave he stood upon.
Jack examined himself, shook his hands and feet, felt his head, stomped his feet, and asked the man beside the headstone, "Who are you? Why am I ... alive?"
Just as the man was about to speak an arrow whizzed by and landed on the tree some ways behind them.
"Quick, there's no time to explain. If you wanna save the world, then follow me," said the man in the suit.
Jack stared at the man's face. He was about to say something when another arrow whizzed past his head. The man grabbed Jack by the arm and ran.
They ran through the length of the graveyard, came across a shallow ditch and jumped into it. The man felt around the soil under him and opened a hatch. He slid down a ladder and beckoned Jack to follow him. Jack looked at the man and then saw the silhouettes of approaching soldiers. He decided to follow the man down the ladder.
Now, Jack found himself in an underground facility, complete with lights and fires and beds.
"Welcome, Jack. I am Mercer, the leader of this revolution and the captain of the rebel troops."
"Necromancer?"
"Yes, I'm afraid I had to use it."
"Mercer, that's what you call yourself? A very human name."
"Yes, I am called Mercer. And I am human, Jack. Times have changed. We commonfolk need to know the dark arts to survive."
"Really? Do you? Because I remember fighting so that the people never had to use the devil's tricks."
"I'm afraid that peace was short-lived, Jack," Mercer said and walked towards a door on his right. "Follow me. I have something I want you to see."
Jack followed him but kept his distance.
In the room, Jack saw men and women who were hungry and pathetic. People who leaned onto the walls to stay up.
"Look at this Jack. Doesn't this make your blood boil?"
"What happened to them?"
"Demons. They took over the country after you died. The demon king's kid, you know, the one you spared, he led the coup. Now they rule, dressed as men, and these people suffer."
"What are they doing here though?"
"I found them. I clean up after the raids, find people who might've survived, but food is hard to come by here."
Jack let out a sigh. "Here I thought I had fixed everything. Damn it. Why did I ever leave that brat alive."
"You can fix it though. You can. I have a tunnel here, directly to the king's bedroom. I dug it over the last year or so. You can climb in there and murder the demon and close this chapter once and for all."
"Fine, bring me a sword. I shall make sure that I slay him this time."
Mercer brought him a shiny steel sword and led him up the tunnel that opened to the king's bedroom. Finally, they came upon a ladder and Mercer nodded. This was it, the opening to the king's room. Jack put his sword in the scabbard and climbed the ladder.
On the other side of the tunnel, Jack found the king in his nightclothes. And remembering the pathetic faces of the hungry people, he swung the sword.
Mercer climbed out of the hatch. "Thank you, Jack. You are a true hero," he said and laughed a muffled laugh. Then, he snapped his fingers and took on the shape of the dead king. "So brave yet so naive," he said.
Jack couldn't move. He had single-handedly ruined his own legacy.
"This is it for you, Jack the hero," Mercer said and snapped his fingers again, undoing the spell of necromancy. He then threw the bodies of Jack the hero and the late king down the hatch.
The demon king's tyrannical son was well and truly back. | 2020-12-08T12:52:55 | 2020-12-08T11:00:39 | 31 | 12 |
[WP]: Rule of thumb: If you see something on a foreign planet that has all the outward traits of an apex predator, but no obvious and apparent way to kill you - run. The methods in which they kill aren't something you want to see. | It was maybe 2 meters tall and wore the dead skin of an animal wrapped around the connection between it's legs and torso. It's skin was a very dark and rich shade of brown. My best geust was ot was to withstand the arid heat of this continent. It stared at me in cautious curiosity with it's large white ocular organs. The brown circles with black dots in the center focused on me, then my sidearm. I could only assume it already knew how to use it, or at least could quickly figure it out. It stepped forward away from the female and young members of it's tribe. It started to run AT me. I quickly pulled my gun and shot it, the small bolt hit it's shoulder barely slowing it, I turned and ran. I easily outran it, but given the intelligence I was fed about these things, it would only be a matter of time before it caught up. I needed to rest, I had been running for minutes. I knew the human would find me. | Much like Johnny Depp in the 2000s, the sky was overcast. Morose and grey, with just a hint of precipitation, behind which lurked a vague threat that could result in anything from a sudden deluge, to a violent storm of thunder, screaming winds, and flying debris. Like breaking up with your psycho ex all over again. Christ.
Jamie and I were the only ones who came to the funeral. Obviously the only ones to wait until they raised the headstone. It stood almost a meter tall above the grass: a slab of dark basalt, polished to a mirror sheen.
Despite the size, all it read was:
"J.
In loving memory."
I had no idea who had paid for it. It didn't look cheap.
Jamie was the first one to break the enduring silence.
"Friends for 35 years. Hard to imagine this is how it would end."
I could only nod in agreement. Hard to imagine, indeed.
"In a way, I'm more angry with myself. They were so caught up in it, they were blind to it. But me? Us? We were on the outside. We should have realised."
I lit a cigarette before answering. I didn't really smoke anymore. A slow and insidious killer. Didn't feel like it mattered much, now. Nor was the irony lost on me.
"Realised how? They were happy. There was nothing to suspect. Christ, they lived like this for years, Jamie! Decades! How could we possibly have seen it?"
Jamie crushed some dry leaves with an angry stomp, frustration oozing out of every pore.
"I don't know! Some way. Somehow! This just isn't right!"
I took a drag on the cigarette, feeling the delicious poison fill my lungs. It never gets you when you're looking. Always when you think you're safe.
Jamie huffed and stomped a bit more, before suddenly going still. Eyes once more locked on the black stone; anger spent, replaced by grief over a lost friend.
"Did you hear how they passed?"
Jamie's voice was muted, bereft of joy. Gone was the fire of our youth, replaced with nothing but weariness.
I took another drag on the cigarette, exhaling slowly.
"Yeah."
Hands in pockets, Jamie glared at the headstone. As if daring it to speak. The mirror polish stoically returned the glare.
"An expert in the field. 29 years of marriage. Two kids, seven grandkids. And then it all ends... like this?"
Another drag, another cloud of smoke, joining its brethren up above. The sky was still undecided on its commitment to the thunder doctrine.
Even to my own ears, my reply lacked conviction.
"To die in your sleep, loved, and happy, with a legacy that will endure? There are worse ways to go."
Jamie turned the glare on me, voice fuelled by a spark I could no longer muster.
"Bullshit! When I go, I want to see it coming. I want to look it straight in the eye, and spit in its face!"
"Yeah, well..."
I stubbed out the remaining ash on the back of my watch, pocketing the butt. As I threw a last glance at the stone, I momentarily locked gaze with my reflection. My eyes looked just as tired as I felt.
"I doubt we'll clock out the same way. Knowing us, when it happens, it'll be worse by far. And knowing us, we'll probably deserve it."
Jamie snorted, but without mirth or conviction.
"Wanna get out of here?"
The most welcome question I'd gotten all day.
"Yeah. Lets."
Like a politician turning their cape to the wind, the sky finally let loose an ominous rumble, followed by the first few drops of rain. And just like the politician's commitment, it was too little, and far too late.
God help us all. | 2021-01-25T08:45:18 | 2021-01-25T08:39:48 | 51 | 25 |
[WP]: Rule of thumb: If you see something on a foreign planet that has all the outward traits of an apex predator, but no obvious and apparent way to kill you - run. The methods in which they kill aren't something you want to see. | "I'm sorry, could you explain that again? And this time use english, yeah?"
The secretary of exploration steepled his fingers in a way that he thought made him look stately. But really it looked like he was trying to hide his numerous jowls behind his short chubby fingers.
The chief scientist sighed inwardly. The secretary was apparently an extremely generous donor, but he had the scientific aptitude of a lungfish.
"Planet XR--" He stopped himself. "The orange planet, sir. Sapience developed there before legs or lungs. You see their nervous systems utilize an ultraefficient form of--" He coughed. "Their brains work really good, so they all have lots. Like, the grazing animals, the small rodent-like scavengers, several different form of crab-like creature, even their equivalent to a sea cucumber. All of them are capable of language, speech, self awareness, and--" He shrugged. "They're really smart, sir. Everything on that planet is smart."
"Sounds dangerous" Said the secretary.
The scientist shrugged. "We've actually seen this before. On sirius 5B-71, we had that world dominated by the Iridia. Blue people, seven arms?"
"Oh! They were on The Real Other Worlds! They live on the planet with the screaming slugs."
"Y-yes sir. Though they didn't so much scream as beg for their lives. In any event. the odd thing about this orange planet is that for the longest time we couldn't find an apex predator."
"A what?"
"Most eco-- Most natural habi-- most places where animals live have one animal that is at the top of the food chain. A large predator usually limited in size by the bone material and musculature structures. But by our calculations the largest predators where well below that threshold."
"I'm sorry I--"
"There were no lions, no tigers, and no bears. Sir. The largest predators were the size of a large housecat. This is despite the planet having several grazing species whose populations were clearly being kept externally in check. It took us forever to figure it out, sir."
"Oh yeah?" The secretary grinned. "A tough one even for you eggheads, eh?"
"Yessir. Eventually we found them. They look like slugs but are actually far less mobile." The scientist pulled up a picture. It was a slimy mound of flesh with two antenna-like eyes protruding from the top. A large mouth sat below the eyes drawing a line down its belly. "They call themselves The Speakers, sir."
"That's their version of a tiger?" The secretary leaned forward. He was intrigued now. "How does it catch anything?"
"Oh, it doesn't. sir. The food comes to it and offers itself as sacrifice."
"What? Why?"
"Aha. You see the Speakers. Their body is almost entirely brain. Brain, digestive system, and support systems. No muscles to speak of other than the heart, lungs, and jaws. But they are incredibly smart. And spectacularly convincing. Sir."
"Convincing."
"They convince their prey that they want to be eaten, you see. Using simple logic and persuasion."
"That's nonsense."
"On the contrary." The chief scientist motioned to his assistants who rolled a large pallet lifter into the room. On the pallet sat a Speaker. It regarded the secretary thoughtfully. "Sir, the scientific team found them to be quite convincing. And I have come to agree."
The giant blue slug spoke: "Mister Secretary, salutations and best regards."
Its voice was painfully beautiful, beyond musical, like a choir of angels singing in perfect harmony. "If you will grant me but a moment of your time, I will explain why unconditional surrender and subsequent enslavement as a cereal crop is simply the only sensible option for your species..." | The following document is classified **TOP SECRET Class Seven (7)** If you do not have **TOP SECRET Class Seven (7)** clearance close this document immediately and inform a United Nations Department of Interstellar Affairs (UNDIA) representative. Failing to do so and continuing to read this document WILL result in a minimum fifteen (15) year incarceration at a designated UNDIA facility.
​
The following document contains information pertaining to the former Alpha (A) class Super Earth exoplanet GJ 273 b which orbits the star GJ 273, otherwise known as Luyten b and Luyten's Star respectively. Due to the contents of this document and its twelve (12) addendums it was reclassified as an Alpha Periculum exoplanet. At the time of the publication of this document, no further expeditions are planned.
Addendum One (1): **REDACTED**
Addendum Two (2): **REDACTED**
Addendum Three (3): **REDACTED**
Addendum Four (4): Transcript of recovered audio logs of Dr. Ariel Giles
Addendum Five (5): **REDACTED**
Addendum Six (6): **REDACTED**
Addendum Seven (7): **REDACTED**
Addendum Eight (8): **REDACTED**
Addendum Nine (9): **REDACTED**
Addendum Ten (10): **REDACTED**
Addendum Eleven (11): **REDACTED**
Addendum Twelve (12): **REDACTED**
On the date of 17 March 2317 (23170317), the 300th anniversary of the discovery of the exoplanet, the expedition departed on board the "Luyten's Flare” spacecraft. The journey was to take twenty-one (21) months to cover the 12.36 light-years between Earth and Luyten b. A team of eleven (11) individuals were sent including four (4) United Nations Naval personnel and seven (7) members of a science team.
Team Members:
Capt. Dillan Rangel: Overall commander of expedition, eighth UNDIA expedition
Cdr. Kester Haas: Second in command of expedition, third UNDIA expedition
Lt. Cdr. Anne-Marie Hanson: Pilot of “Luyten’s Flare”, sixth UNDIA expedition
MMNCM Isobella Mahoney: Twenty-four (24) years of service on nuclear powered spacecraft
Dr. Lara Shelton: Doctorate in Exoplanetology
Dr. Ariel Giles: Doctorate in Geology and Astrogeology
Dr. Yosef Dunne: Doctorate in Bioastronautics and Medicine
Dr. Drew Downs: Doctorate in Chemistry and Biochemistry
Dr. Alex Clegg: Doctorate in Astrophysics
Dr. Kristie Solomon: Doctorate in Nuclear Reactor Physics
Dr. Ellesse Montoya: Doctorate in Astrobiology and Medicine
Upon arriving at Luyten b an away team was decided on, sent down first to set up the living habitat and a base of operations. This team was made up of Capt. Dillan Rangel, Dr. Lara Shelton, Dr. Ariel Giles, Dr. Yosef Dunne, Dr. Drew Downs, and Dr. Ellesse Montoya. Little information is available on the events that transpired on the surface of the exoplanet. That which we do have was recovered by the second away team, made up of Cdr. Kester Haas, MMNCM Isobella Mahoney, and Dr. Alex Clegg. After the fifth day all contact from the surface was lost, on the seventh day Cdr. Haas assembled the second away team and used the ships second and last lander to investigate. They landed approximately 200 meters from the camp, where the first lander had obviously landed but was missing. They tried to hail the camp on shortwave radios, but getting no response, they ventured into the camp . From the outside the living habitat and base of operations had been seemingly abandoned, with a few small (no more than six (6) inches) holes scattered around the bottom of the buildings, presumably made by the local fauna. Upon entering them, it was discovered that the majority of the floor and walls, and a minority of the ceilings, were covered in human remains and blood. Every member of the first away team was identified either through visual means or supplemental material, such as the remains being in a labeled uniform, with the exception of Dr. Ariel Giles. A single amputated leg was discovered in a large storage cabinet, along with some of the surgical supplies provided to the living habitat. Based on the amount of blood in the storage cabinet and the fact that the missing lander hadn't returned to the “Luyten’s Flare” the second away team was confident that Dr. Giles was deceased, but did not locate a body. Cdr. Haas made the decision to gather as much of the recording equipment as possible and depart. Upon returning to the “Luyten’s Flare”, the rest of the expedition members held a vote and unanimously decided to return to Earth and report their findings.
Addendum Four (4)
Due to the physical damage the audio recording device was in upon retrieval by MMNCM Mahoney, there are large gaps in the playback and various audio distortions.
Start of first chronological recording:
**Dr. Ariel Giles:** Is it recording? I think it’s recording.
**Dr. Ellesse Montoya:** The blinking red-light didn’t give it away?
**Dr. Giles:** Hey babe! That other voice you heard was Ellesse, say hi Ellesse
**Dr. Montoya:** Hi Shawn!
(The Shawn referred here is Shawn Giles, Dr. Giles husband of five (5) years.)
\[Sounds of movement\]
**Dr. Giles:** We just finished setting up the hab and I finally have a moment of peace to make this recording. Of course I can’t send it to you, Captain Rangel says it’ll have to wait until the return journey to be sent, some nonsense about OP-SEC. \[Whispering\] Rangel is kind of a dick, guess he’s been riding the UNN train too long to not be.
**Dr. Drew Downs:** \[Shouted\] Foods ready, ya schmucks, get it while it's hot!
**Dr. Giles:** Well as you heard, I gotta go…Love ya goof!
Recording ends.
​
Part 1 | 2021-01-25T10:23:45 | 2021-01-25T10:18:02 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] A teen girl stares in shock and horror at the stump where her arm was just a few minutes ago. Shaking in horror, not because she had just lost her arm in a car accident, but because inside was sparking wires and circuits, a metal bone instead of normal flesh and blood. | Sarah sat up, incredibly sore, but the pain wasn't unbearable, probably just bruising, nothing broken. Her bicycle was absolutely trashed though. It looked like it had folded in half. The blue car had gone on to wrap itself around a lamppost. Other people were checking on the driver.
The red car next to her was uncomfortably close. Sarah raised her left shoulder to brace herself against it so she could sit up. As she pushed off, there was a loud clunk, and she fell backwards, hitting her head again. She winced, then realization set in. Slowly, knowing what she'd see, Sarah turned her head to the left. The red car's tire was flat. Shards of metal were sticking out of it. Her arm was snapped in half, halfway up the forearm.
She didn't notice when the driver of the red car came over to help her up. It was all too overwhelming. She'd had the prosthesis for less than six months. Her father had saved for a year just to afford the down payment on it, and the waiting list had been three years long. For just six months, she'd felt normal again. Felt whole. Now her arm was ripped away from her again, just as surely as the first time, five years ago... | *Twitch.*
*Spark.*
*Twitch.*
*Spark.*
*Crackle. Crackle pop. Crackle pop pop.*
Diagnostic:
Help me.
I opened my eyes, vision bright white for only a brief moment. Information began to flood my brain. I am Elizabeth, I am 16 years old, I am Female. I am Elizabeth, I am 16 years old, I am Female. I am Elizabeth, I am 16 years old, I am Female. I am Eli--
I am Dying.
As if gaining consciousness for the first time my vision filled with colors, and shapes. Before me, through shattered open glass and a slight gleam of sun on metal was a dance. Red, orange, yellow, bellowing black. That was fire. The fire was coming from inside something, seeping out around a black lid, dented and smashed all over. The lid was covered with red and black, and blue. When the dancing fire dipped down, I saw past it another shattered glass, this one shattered open and specks of it covering a man. Or a woman. Or a child. It was a woman. A woman was sitting in the driver's seat, motionless, blood covering her. Her face was cru--
**BAD PASSAGE.**
There is a black silhouette sitting in the driver's seat. I am incapable of seeing it. I blink once or twice, my eyes stinging, filled with ash and dust. Was it really feeling painful? Or was it just something in my mind telling me to blink? It was then I realized. I can move. I look to my left, along the seat lies an arm, unmoving. Scratched, battered, and covered in a few droplets of blood and oil. I blink staring at it. I can't see my face but I can feel what it looks like. Blank, expressionless. I estimate in supposed to look shocked, but I just can't. I look to my right, sparks. Twitch. Spark. Twitch. Spark.
I felt my humanity return to me in that moment. My eyes widened. My mouth curls downwards and my lips part into a scream, my eyebrows raised. Fear. I am feeling afraid. There is flesh around my ripped off arm, skin, meat, and blood leaking and dripping out. But under neath that, past that, and jutting out a decent bit was metal. Metal cage surrounding a metal bone. A metal piece, wires, electronic nerves sticking out, ripped off or out forcefully. I look outside again, and the fire dipped down. Sitting on the other cars hood, there was my arm. Fake, red blood splattered around it, and a blue fluid. Looking back at my stump it leaked said blue fluid. That was my blood. Blue. Perfect blue Blood. This can't be real, this can't be possible, I think. But I feel another breach, another Error. I raise my hand to my forehead. There is a breach there. I put my head to the thick gash, said gash fittingly the size and shape of the steering wheel of the card. Meat. Meat. Blood. Clunk. I feel metal eventually. I dig around a bit more. Screws. Welds. Ports. Oh. So it isn't just my arm. I am failing to process this moment properly, the machines whirring and controlling my head are helping me. I have to get out of here. I have to leave.
Help me.
Help me.
Help me.
Hel
I get a message.
"Go to sleep, Elizabeth." I feel afraid. "It will all make sense soon."
No. I don't want to sleep, I want to wake up. I feel afraid, panicked, every part of me is shaking, shaking in pain? No, shaking in fear. I am terrified. I'm going to die. I feel it, I feel that I'm going to die. I don't want to die. I want to wake up, I want to wake up, I want to wake up, I wa
Shutting down. | 2022-01-26T12:31:14 | 2022-01-26T12:19:47 | 93 | 48 |
[WP] Your bedroom became detached from reality and nothing is outside your door, but whenever you load a video game that world appears. Your game library is not conducive to a long and happy life, but the mini fridge is empty so you have no choice. You load up the safest game and gather supplies. | It was supposed to be a simple quick attempt at me grabbing supplies to go back to my room.
But, God must have decided that the place my door would open to was an active battle between two armies, all I could hear was screams, and the clashing of steel until I finally was knocked unconscious…
As I began to slowly awake, I had the slight sensation that I was moving in a wooden seat, I felt cold air brushing against my face, and the sound of horses…
My eyes began to flutter open, wincing from the bright sun that seemed to shine directly into them like a middle finger from the Divines…
I couldn’t move my arms no matter how much I tried to pull, looking down to see that no only was I sitting on a carriage, but my hands were also bound.
“Psst, hey.”
A male’s voice called out to me, making me raise my head and seeing another bound man was sitting across from me in…a blue uniform.
“Hey, you, you’re finally awake…”
Hearing that phrase seemed to make my mind activate fully like the flip of a switch, the revelation of the situation was becoming quite clear to me now…
Oh no…
This was going to be very annoying, isn’t it…? | Let's see, let's see... I nibble at the last Uncrustable I could find I'm my mini fridge, scrolling through a long list of games. Oh, why, Diana? Why did you have to be such a fan of action games and such a damn hippie about slice of life?
I'd already found out a few things - been experimenting ever since I realized what happened. From Shogun Showdown and Hitman 3 I learned that while I COULD wander off of the 'main' world, and other places did exist, they were barren and devoid of life. So unless I wanted to eat concession stand hotdogs for the rest of my life, Hitman was off the table. Too dangerous with Agent 47 walking around too, even if I was a nobody.
Speaking of, I learned from a VERY brief excursion into Fallout New Vegas and God of War that the player characters acted closest to their canon counterparts, or in the absence of that, the fanon interpretation - that meant that the Courier didn't go around killing hordes of people for no reason, and Kratos... Well, he's Kratos.
After reaching the bottom of the list AGAIN, my eyes glazed over, I nibble again, taking a capful of water from my last water bottle. I should prioritize games with vegetables, games with clean water, and especially games with easy access to either of the above. Entertainment can come later - I DEFINITELY want to stop by Final Fight at some point - for now, I need to focus solely on resources. I don't have an internet connection anymore, but thankfully I have every game in my steam library on various storage drives. Switching them out is tedious, but I can find every game in here on something. To make sure I don't zone out again, I decide to talk out loud while I read.
"Inscryption - nah, not worth it. Would be awesome to stop by every now and again after I've got this figured out, though."
The last important thing I've learned, thanks to Stranger of Blade City and Ghostrunner, is that games reset when I leave them. Characters might remember me, but any important events, like blowing up Megaton, undo themselves when I leave. It's weird, but I don't make the rules - it means I could theoretically just use one game forever if I could just find one.
"Just King... Nah, no food and too many enemies. Patch Quest... Maybe? Can a human survive off just honey-goop-stuff? Nuclear Th- no, skipping that one... Dishonored... Last resort. Carrion... Nah. AdventureQuest 3D- when the fuck did I buy that?"
And so on and so forth down the list I went. I could afford to plan for - I look at my sandwich - two more days, maybe, if I could find an easy one. If I couldn't, I'd only have a few more hours. My best chances would be to go into a game like Hitman or Fallout when I'm at my best, and come back and try to figure out something else. Once I have a little food, I can try the ambiguous games like-
"... Danganronpa...? Wait, that might actually work..."
When the hell did I buy that? And how didn't I notice it until just now?
There were two problems with this one. The first problem is with the exact game I have - Trigger Happy Havoc. I hate most of the characters in that one, so it'd be a pain to interact with them. The second and more pressing problem is that I can't exactly go waltzing around in a locked room environment, especially with this - depending on what events happened before I walk in, they're already on the lookout for a hidden student. But, they do have a lot of food and water, since monokuma restocks the kitchen every day... I shrug, and click the launch button.
"Okay, let's see where this goes..." | 2022-06-08T02:06:15 | 2022-06-07T23:30:06 | 26 | 10 |
[WP] 100 25 year olds have been chosen. each must choose a super power that cannot be repeated and cannot exceed the power of god. The goal is to see who can conquer the world. You have the number 100. The best powers have already been chosen. Then it's your turn and you choose..... | "And yours?" the divine agent asked me. A weariness in the question betrayed some edge of boredom or frustration in dealing with petty mortals.
"Power negation?" I ventured.
"Taken," I was informed, flatly.
"Power *theft*?"
"Taken."
"Domination, then." I was aware of the purpose of these powers and figured the direct approach could work.
"*Taken*."
By that point, I was as frustrated as the divine. Reflecting on the state of the world to be ruled, I thought about the one thing it perhaps needed most.
"Consequences."
"Excuse me?" the divine asked as if brought out of a stupor.
"I want the power to bring consequences. Divine judgment, if you will."
The glowing wells that passed for the divine's eyes narrowed into bedight points. "Granted. Fortune be with you."
The following days where interesting, to say the least.
I watched as divine strength could mangle a car well before he could throw it, and when his joints gave out, it was gruesome. (I'd find out later that I was only partially responsible.)
Divine speed earned herself some well-deserved friction burns before she collided with an oncoming 18-wheeler. I might feel sorry for her but moreso for the horrified driver.
Divine dominance actually had to *manage* the people he controlled, and it turns out not many people are well suited to management. He quit after twenty or so.
Same with divine presence. Sure, she was popular, the biggest celebrity in an era, but the constant demands for attention drove her into hermitage inside of six months. She's in her mansion living off of the gifts her fans leave at her front gate.
Poor divine flight, shot down for violating sovereign air space.
Divine greed, the guy who nicked Power Theft? Arrested for arson. His home country decided not to execute him in favor of using him to power a hydroelectric plant.
Divine wealth, the multi-quintillionaire? Assassinated, and none too subtly. Turns out the world's economic powers get very edgy around someone who can literally buy whole nations.
Maybe I feel the worst for divine fortitude. Can't be hurt, physically or mentally. But without pain, specifically discontent, he doesn't do much because he's free from want and the drive to change anything. At least his Food Dares YouTube channel has over 2 million subscribers, though the idea of scorpion pepper mukbang makes me flinch.
Oh right, divine denial, the Power Negation guy? We're actually good friends. We were both aiming for ways to stop the other 98 from screwing over the world. Once the threat was over, I turned my influence to the world political stage. I keep Denial in my back pocket to stop me from doing anything heinous, but things have gotten a lot better now that corrupt officials and executives are getting what they deserve. | A flash of Bright Light and a Loud Humming noise woke me up. I found myself in a Room with a bunch of other People that looked just as confused as I was.
"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?! WHERE AM I?!" Somebody shouted. Others looked around terrified, whereas some others were still in the Process of waking up and trying to take everything in.
One Person got up and went to a small assortment of Benches and lit himself a Cigarette. She looked about as nonchalant as could be, given this strange Situation.
Instead of Panicking, or being frozen in Fear I decided it would be best to get a clearer picture and as this Woman clearly seemed to know something I decided to get up and talk to her.
"Hey, uhm, so,..." She interrupted me by raising a Finger, pointing at her Cigarette. The room got louder. "WHAT IS GOING ON?!" The guy kept screaming, scaring the few that looked like they where already having a Panic Attack even more. "YOU THERE!" He pointed at me. "YOU look like you know something! What is going on here? WHERE ARE WE?!" He stomped towards me and just as he was reaching out his arm to grab me, the Mysterious Woman put out her Cigarette in a little Case she kept in her Jacket Pocket.
"Don't touch him" she said coldly, "you'll know in just a few minutes. But first check your Wrists" We did as we were told. My Wrist displayed the number 100. The Guy had the number 17. "Has everybody checked their number? Good. Come with me"
She walked behind the benches, her Black Skirt flowing behind her. Underneath one could make out some Red Leggings and Black Leather Boots. As she walked over to the Wall, a Panel opened up and she spoke something into the Panel. It wasn't a Language I recognized but right now I wasn't paying much attention either as the Wall opened up to reveal a Large Room with Chairs and a Stage in the Middle. "You guys, gals and non-binary Pals go ahead and find you a good seat. You will be called up shortly" "HOW ABOUT YOU FINALLY TELL US WHAT WE ARE DOING HERE!" The Fellow screamed in her Face. She stared Daggers at him and grabbed his shoulder when she reached him. "How about you do as you're being told for now, Big Guy before I change my mind and only 99 of you get to Participate?!" He tried to struggle but it looked like he couldn't move an inch away from her grip. "WHAT IS THIS? YOU'RE BREAKING... MY... SHOUL...-" CRACK.
He screamed out in Agony as his arm dropped a little lower. "Go and sit your ass down before I seriously break your Arm!" Every did what they were told.
Screaming guy sat next to me as he was holding his arm trying to suppress his Tears. "She is crazy, man! Crazy! Can you fix this?" I had taken some First Aid classes but I couldn't do anything about a Dislocated Shoulder. "Here, let me see." A Young girl got up from behind him and looked at his Shoulder. "Good lord! How Crazy strong is this Woman? I can make out every single finger on your Shoulder! Here hold still and don't move, this will hurt for a second" she skillfully picked up his arm and guided it into the Proper Position. "On Three! One, Tw...-" SNAP. She popped the arm right back into socket. "YOU BITCH!" "Yeah, Yeah, you would've tensed up at three and it wouldn't have worked as easily. Relax, the pain should subside quickly and you're welcome by the Way!"
I liked her, she seemed scared of the whole situation but put helping somebody first despite her Fear. No matter what's going to happen, I'd like to make sure I'm on her side.
The Room went dark and Gasps and Whispers filled the Air. A Spotlight illuminated the Stage and on Stage was a Glass Pyramid. The Air filled with Static as the Pyramid lit up and a 3D Silhouette appeared.
"WELCOME! I am sure you all must be consuming why you're here, so let's cut right to the Chase. My Name is K.I.G.A. Tonight you will all get a Superpower!" Some people got excited, Others were still Terrified. The Air has noticeably changed though. "Here's how this works," the Figure proclaimed "Each one of you has a Number on your Wrist from one to One Hundred. Each one of you will come up here, according to your number and you will get to choose your Superpower!"
Excitement started to make its rounds in the Room that was closely watched by our Mystery Lady. "There are a few rules though. Number 1: You cannot choose Godlike Powers like Omniscience. Anything below that is fair game!" The Excitement died down a little bit but some people still had Awe in their eyes.
"Rule Number 2: Every Person gets one Power and that will be the only Person to receive that specific Power! So if somebody chooses say Spiderman's Powers nobody else can receive that same Power!
Panic started to flood the room. Excited whispers and whispers of despair filled the Air.What if somebody else chose the Power you'd want?
"Number 3: After receiving your Powers, you will return to your Beds at Home. Afterwards your goal is to Conquer the World by any Means necessary!"
The Room turned loud as people were Gasping for Air from this Goal, Others shouted in Disbelief and others gave in to Despair.
Part 2 in next comment | 2022-11-17T07:41:47 | 2022-11-17T02:34:34 | 772 | 58 |
[WP] 100 25 year olds have been chosen. each must choose a super power that cannot be repeated and cannot exceed the power of god. The goal is to see who can conquer the world. You have the number 100. The best powers have already been chosen. Then it's your turn and you choose..... | 100 people. Who can conquer the world first. I was never lucky. I only won one thing in my entire life and that was a large stuffed bear in a raffle 4 people entered. We were given an hour to consider, then they gave their boons.
Immortality was gone. Persuasion too. Self multiplication. Material conversion. Super intellect. No one chose the basic ones. The stakes were too high. The winner would herald in a new age for humanity. The losers would be dead or villianized. Luck manipution went close to 90. I didn't pay attention. No one would take mine.
"100. What do you choose?" The orb said.
"Second place." I replied.
"Explain."
"I want to be the second best at everything."
The screens with the other 99 errupted with discussion.
The orb began pulsing. Asking if this was to be allowed. It hummed, and gave the blue light of bestowal.
I felt it. I wasn't as smart as 05. I wasn't as persuasive as 9. I wasn't as tactical as 21. I wasn't as good of an imitator as 57. I was close though. They called me Jack of All. And in the end, I wasn't second. I was first. | God this sucks. All the cool powers are taken. From flight to fire breath. From teleportation to telekinesis. Now it’s my turn to think. I have to think long and hard about this one. Then I remembered it. As a kid I loved watching videos online and the main videos I watched were videos on the terrors of video games. I said as loud as possible
“I want the power to bring things to and from fictional worlds.”
People were silent at first. Then they started laughing.
“Look at this weirdo.”
“Go back to your cartoons.” They said, barely able to breath from laughing.
We were dropped back off on earth where the limitations of our powers were described to us. A man, who I could only assume was set by god, told me,
“You can take or leave up to 10 items per day in a fictional world. But every time you do pain will erupt from your body. To the point where when you send or take the tenth item you’ll be unconscious.”
I looked at him and grinned,
“That’s okay with me.”
I wanted to try my power on something small first. I reached out my hand and said, “ACTIVATE!”
I was suddenly in a blue room with a menu in front of me that l ooked like it was straight out of a video game. The same voice from before was behind me and said
“Here’s something I forgot to tell you. Whenever you activate this ability your spirit is sent here. When you go back out, it’ll be as if no time had passed. So take as much time as you need. But I will be the thing to harm you every time you use this ability. ”
I think again.
“Well, if I’m gonna get hurt over this I might as well make it work it. TAKE! FIRE FLOWER! SUPER MARIO GAMES!” I said loud.
“YOU DON’T NEED TO SHOUT! The being said. He walked close to me. And swiftly hits me in the gut. I immediately wake up. I throw up from the punch. But look in my hand and the fire flower is right there. I look at it and smile. I take a bite and immediately start sweating.
“Hot hot hot!” I repeat over and over again but then something changes. My clothes change color and I feel more powerful. I jump up and down.
“It works! It works!” I accidentally throw a fireball at my wall. And as the building collapses I remember something about the games.
“Oh no. Can’t get hit.” I burst through a wall and smile.
“IT WORKS!” I was barely done celebrating when someone screamed from above.
“Hey! You’re the loser who wanted to play video games right!” Oh great. I just got this ability and someone’s already trying to fight me. I scream back,
“Dude you can only fly. My ability’s cooler than yours.”
He shouted, “We’ll see who’s not cool.” As he backed up.
“It’s still yo-“ I couldn’t even finish till he hit me like a train.
“Still not cool?” He said while hitting me from all angles and laughing.
I raise my hand at him and say “Give.”
Suddenly we’re both in my menu. He’s tied up as the being looks at me and say “Already fighting?”
I ignore him and say “Give. Attack on titan. Season 1 Episode 1.”
He starts laughing and saying “Pfft. You think I’m scared of one of your shows.”
I ignore him too and ask the being “ Can I watch him to see what happens?”
The being says “Why not? I wanna see how this ends for him.”
He’s suddenly in the show. We watch as he gets mercilessly eaten by a giant humanoid. I smile an evil grin as he hits me.
“You’re disgusting.”
I awake on the battle field. His body is still there but he isn’t breathing. I go back in my house.
“I gotta think of a name for myself.” | 2022-11-17T08:01:45 | 2022-11-17T07:32:46 | 63 | 12 |
[WP] 100 25 year olds have been chosen. each must choose a super power that cannot be repeated and cannot exceed the power of god. The goal is to see who can conquer the world. You have the number 100. The best powers have already been chosen. Then it's your turn and you choose..... | The arbiter let out a long sigh and looked past me. We’d been here a while, and it was finally my turn. His voice was tired. “What’ll it be?”
My hands were clammy. I looked up to him, seated on his pedestal, and sighed. I couldn’t think of anything else. “Um… I’m not sure. All the good powers have been taken already.”
“Yes, that’s the point. More glory for higher numbers though, if you make a global conquest.”
“I would’ve said flight or invisibility or telepathy… but I can’t.”
He sighs again. “No. You can’t. Listen, between you and me, you’ve already lost. Just pick something.”
*What would make grown men cry?*
There’s just nothing left.
*What am I most afraid of?*
The unknown? The dark? Dying alone?
Then it hit me. Spiders.
“I’d like the power to turn matter into spiders.”
Scoffs erupt from the others behind me. “What!? She can’t pick that!”
The arbiter raises his voice. “Silence!” He thinks for a moment then chuckles. “I’ll allow it.” | God this sucks. All the cool powers are taken. From flight to fire breath. From teleportation to telekinesis. Now it’s my turn to think. I have to think long and hard about this one. Then I remembered it. As a kid I loved watching videos online and the main videos I watched were videos on the terrors of video games. I said as loud as possible
“I want the power to bring things to and from fictional worlds.”
People were silent at first. Then they started laughing.
“Look at this weirdo.”
“Go back to your cartoons.” They said, barely able to breath from laughing.
We were dropped back off on earth where the limitations of our powers were described to us. A man, who I could only assume was set by god, told me,
“You can take or leave up to 10 items per day in a fictional world. But every time you do pain will erupt from your body. To the point where when you send or take the tenth item you’ll be unconscious.”
I looked at him and grinned,
“That’s okay with me.”
I wanted to try my power on something small first. I reached out my hand and said, “ACTIVATE!”
I was suddenly in a blue room with a menu in front of me that l ooked like it was straight out of a video game. The same voice from before was behind me and said
“Here’s something I forgot to tell you. Whenever you activate this ability your spirit is sent here. When you go back out, it’ll be as if no time had passed. So take as much time as you need. But I will be the thing to harm you every time you use this ability. ”
I think again.
“Well, if I’m gonna get hurt over this I might as well make it work it. TAKE! FIRE FLOWER! SUPER MARIO GAMES!” I said loud.
“YOU DON’T NEED TO SHOUT! The being said. He walked close to me. And swiftly hits me in the gut. I immediately wake up. I throw up from the punch. But look in my hand and the fire flower is right there. I look at it and smile. I take a bite and immediately start sweating.
“Hot hot hot!” I repeat over and over again but then something changes. My clothes change color and I feel more powerful. I jump up and down.
“It works! It works!” I accidentally throw a fireball at my wall. And as the building collapses I remember something about the games.
“Oh no. Can’t get hit.” I burst through a wall and smile.
“IT WORKS!” I was barely done celebrating when someone screamed from above.
“Hey! You’re the loser who wanted to play video games right!” Oh great. I just got this ability and someone’s already trying to fight me. I scream back,
“Dude you can only fly. My ability’s cooler than yours.”
He shouted, “We’ll see who’s not cool.” As he backed up.
“It’s still yo-“ I couldn’t even finish till he hit me like a train.
“Still not cool?” He said while hitting me from all angles and laughing.
I raise my hand at him and say “Give.”
Suddenly we’re both in my menu. He’s tied up as the being looks at me and say “Already fighting?”
I ignore him and say “Give. Attack on titan. Season 1 Episode 1.”
He starts laughing and saying “Pfft. You think I’m scared of one of your shows.”
I ignore him too and ask the being “ Can I watch him to see what happens?”
The being says “Why not? I wanna see how this ends for him.”
He’s suddenly in the show. We watch as he gets mercilessly eaten by a giant humanoid. I smile an evil grin as he hits me.
“You’re disgusting.”
I awake on the battle field. His body is still there but he isn’t breathing. I go back in my house.
“I gotta think of a name for myself.” | 2022-11-17T09:49:50 | 2022-11-17T07:32:46 | 16 | 12 |
[WP] A prophecy foretells that a newborn baby will one day grow up to end your evil reign. Knowing that fighting fate is useless, you decide instead to take the child in and raise them as your heir. | I can feel my mortal soul slowly leave my body, blood had slowly covered the floor around me. So it finally came, despite my efforts.
“Goodbye father.” Lucifer my son muttered as he withdrew the sword from my body letting red liquid flow faster as he left the room.
‘At least he had the honor to personally perform the deed, just like how the gods intended.’ I intoned as I crawled to my study table taking a special bottle of wine I kept close to me for the entire time.
It was made on the day I found that kid.
*“You will not escape Lythia’s punishment. A child of light will strike you down.” the pope, an idiotic piece of meat declared before he was executed.*
*As much of a fanatic the man was, his proclamations had mostly held true for a long time. It is why at the exact moment I found myself free from the chains of my newfound leadership, I joined my men at the search ensuring that everyone knew the gravity of the task.*
*I found him alone, digging the graves for his deceased mother. A normal man would take the opportunity to strike him down.*
*I chose a different route, one where I know the face of my demise and gain the chance to sway him at my side. I told my generals, advisors and everyone that I felt should know.*
It was a lie. I had attempted to defy various prophecies during the war, all of them ended in failure and a lesson that working around it was a better idea.
So I turned him into my heir, gave him the lessons and the values needed to reach my level.
When thoughts of taking over entered his mind, I nourished it. I ignored his gathering of allies, people who will aid him in the future.
And when the time was ripe, gave him the opportunity he needed.
I was struck down by the Child of Light, but not as a hero like the Lythia intended.
“All hail the new king.” I raised my bottle as a final spit to the goddess, drinking the wine as I let it be my final sensation. | I stand on the balcony, looking out over my kingdom. My time is coming; my son, fifteen years old now, destined to overthrow me, has been gaining the trust of the people. A rebellion is on the horizon, as everyone demands he takes the throne. Of course I'm not happy with this, but he hasn't once disobeyed me; if I tell him to put a servant in their place, he will use compassion and understanding to get them to do their jobs, but if I told him to *punish* them, he would, apologising for the way things are.
I curl up my fingers. The one thing I don't understand is... how? Ever since my son started making decisions for the kingdom and having a say in what happens to people, there's been LESS crime and disloyalty. This doesn't make sense...
I sigh. I close my eyes and think back to when I first took my son in. Sometimes, prophecies are fake or inaccurate, but I couldn't take my chances. My advisor has always had a gift, and he's rarely ever wrong. He told me that an abandoned baby would grow up and be my undoing. I could have just killed the kid... somehow, I knew it was *him*... but I know what would have happened. People would NOT have kept quiet. Instead, I raised the boy as my own, hoping I could somehow get him to follow my example...
But no. All these years later, he doesn't even TRY my methods, calling them 'cruel'. It doesn't matter; my grip is slipping, it's only a matter of time. I nod to myself, my decision made. I head to the throne room. What once was a place of fear and respect was slowly becoming a place where even my own guards don't see me as a leader. I walk up to the throne, but I don't sit down. I call for my son. "Shawn. Come here."
My son walks into the room. Usually, he bows to me. This time, he doesn't. I narrow my eyes; this is yet another sign that what I'm about to do is a necessity. "Shawn... why do you insist on being compassionate and kind to those beneath you? To those who are criminals or servants?"
"Because I hate seeing the fear in people's eyes, father" Shawn responds. "They hate you. I can't, but I don't respect you anymore. I'm not afraid to tell you anymore, father, but I don't think you are fit to rule this land. Punish me for it if you want; you'll regret it."
I take two steps forward. He doesn't flinch. "I know" I say. "If I did ANYTHING to you, the people would riot. Son... I never told you before, but the day you were born, my reign was destined to end. I still somehow hoped that if I raised you as my own, you'd follow my example. I was wrong. And now... here I stand, my position fragile. I don't have much choice... the throne is yours."
Shawn's eyes widen in surprise. I step to the side, gesturing him to take my place. He hesitates a moment, before walking over and taking his seat. I feel disgusted, but just a little bit proud. I kneel to my own son. "Your majesty."
He looks at me. "Seems like you at least know humility. So... what to do with you..."
I gulp. "Please... I know you well enough... you wouldn't hurt me... don't hurt me..."
Shawn chuckles. "Never thought I'd see you begging like this, *Mason.* Truth be told, I always thought death wasn't an unsuitable punishment for you... but you're right, I don't WANT to hurt you. Guards. Take him to the deepest part of the dungeon."
I shake with relief as I'm forced to my feet. I'm escorted to a dark, damp cell. The iron door shuts behind me, and I look at the guards. "Be thankful you were spared" one of them states. "Maybe one day, you can earn your freedom... after, King Shawn isn't like *you*." The guards leave, and I just sit on my cold, hard bed. One question goes through my head: where did I go wrong as a ruler?
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
Thank you for reading! More stories [here!](https://www.reddit.com/r/StoriesbyCrystal/comments/x374da/oneoff_stories_a_collection_of_stories_which_are/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) | 2022-11-27T02:34:02 | 2022-11-27T02:27:15 | 428 | 134 |
[WP] For the past 24 hours, time travelers keep showing up and trying to do small things to influence today's events. It's starting to get annoying. | ~Zap!~
I sighed. Yet another one. "State your name and intent."
"John Doe, making a cup of tea as part of my time-travel past tourism."
"Sorry John Doe," I said, waving him back, "but you're not cleared for that. May I interest you in watching the inauguration live, with a leasher?"
"A leasher? But this isn't a fixed day!"
I rolled my eyes. Yeah, sure.
"Look, we can give you a refund if you want, but we've already had a couple hundred of you guys come through, trying to change minor things. Swapping pills, and sending cars sprawling into a build-up. We had to reset for that one, and you and me both know how much of a pain in the ass it is to get a reset. There was some other guy trying to smuggle a bird. Turns out, it'd been trained and poisoned, and yeah..."
"Oh, uhh..." he stammered.
"So yes, I know exactly what you're going to do. You're going to 'make tea' and poison someone, probably someone important."
Looking properly chastised, he stumbled back into place.
"How about a complimentary trip Rome?" I offered, "get to enjoy the pleasures of wine and eating tonnes of food with the romans, yes?"
I offered a smile, trying to get him to nod or agree. God, working in customer service for time travel customer service sucked.
He nodded, and I hit remote button.
~Zap! Zap!~
"Really!? You guys can't even give me *one second* to have a bloody break?" I screamed, stomping up to...
A little old lady?
"Ma'am?" I mumbled, confused. Her eyes were wide, gulping down bundles of fear and trying not to shake. "I mean er, state your name and intent."
"J-just visiting my ancestors is all..." she mumbled, looking like she was about to cry. But I had a job to do.
"May I please check your purse, Ma'am?"
She clutched it tighter. I let out a hefty sigh. Yet another one.
"Ma'am, I'm sorry but I'm going to have to insist that you let me check your purse. Another day, sure, I'd let you off. But today's the day, and you know it."
Her eyes steeled. She reached into her purse. I slammed the button as fast as I could. A second later, the glint of metal passed out the bag, and she brandished her weapon.
~Zap!~
I let out a sigh of relief.
"Does no one have any sympathy for those working in customer services anymore?"
~Zap!~
****
Come visit **/r/AlexUrwin** for more... okay, less tales from customer service. But there is time-travelling! | July 12, 2017. A day just like any other. A day I had *thought* would be normal. After all, it started normally. I had woken up at six o'clock, made myself dry toast and a cup of coffee, and had sat down to enjoy my meager meal at my wobbly dining room table in my one-room apartment. Being a college dropout doesn't leave you with much money or many choices. I had taken a job as a city worker about a month earlier. The hours were long. My coworkers were jerks. My boss was an even bigger one. The pay was slim. Rent and food were hard to pay for. My morning coffee was about the only luxury I could enjoy. So naturally I was angry when I felt the steaming cup being slapped out of my hand as I brought it up to take a sip. Partly because it was a waste of perfectly good coffee, and partly because only a few moments earlier I had been completely alone. Living in a bad neighborhood for a while had instilled in me some cautionary instincts, so in a matter of seconds I had my assailant's arm twisted painfully behind his back. He cried out in pain.
"You see what you did?," I shouted, turning and pushing him so that his face was inches away from the spilled coffee. "That was my last cup. *My last cup.* You better have a good reason for breaking in here and making me spill my coffee."
"But I do, I do!" he cried out.
"Then say it!"
"You can't drink it!"
"And just why can't I drink my coffee?"
"Trust me, just don't. You have no idea what happens if you do."
I was growing tired of the bull crap. I twisted his arm a little harder, causing him to cry out even more. I took my first good look at him. His hair had been shaved, but little blonde hairs were starting to grow up again. He was skinny, and a little shorter than I was. I noticed he was wearing an orange jumpsuit. On the back, printed in black, were the words, "Segovium State Prison". I threw the man on the ground. "You get out of prison and looking to make a quick buck? You aren't gonna find it here. Now what is your name?" I stood over him as menacingly as I could.
"My name.... my name is RQWZ-112" the man said, gasping.
"What the heck are you talking about?"
He gestured to the front of his jumpsuit, which read, "RQWZ-112" over his chest. "Please sir, just listen to me, he said, beginning to stand. I took a step back, giving him his room. "You, under no circumstances, must ever drink coffee today."
"You better start making sense real quick," I said, taking a step back towards him.
He put his hands up defensively, "Trust me. Just trust me." And then he disappeared into thin air. I blinked, surprised. I looked around my room, outside my door, even on the streets outside. He was nowhere to be seen. Thinking it must have just been a dream, I pinched myself. It hurt, like normal. I checked my room again. But the coffee still lay spilt on the ground. I touched it: it felt real, still warm and wet. I looked at my clock, realized I was going to be late, and left the coffee there. I would just get some on my walk to work.
There was a nice Dunkin Donuts on my route. Seeing it was open, I turned and began to open the door. I felt a hand on my shoulder. I grabbed it and spun around. It was another man in an orange jumpsuit, expect he had a different number on his chest. He winced a little as I tightened my grip on his wrist, but his eyes were filled with determination. "What the heck do you want?" I demanded.
"Don't drink any coffee today. Save yourself. Save the future." And then the man disappeared, leaving me gripping nothing but air.
At this point I was certain I must have been tripping on something. My neighbors obviously smoked pot. Maybe their second hand smoke had an effect? I didn't know, but I needed something to break the effect. Something like coffee. I turned back towards the Dunkin Donuts, opened the door and stepped inside.
I was greeted by 20 people all at once. Statements of "Hi, how are you?" "Good morning!" "The coffee is excellent." "You should have some coffee," all assailed me. The people were all smiling. Unnaturally. Their lips were pulled too tight over their teeth in a sort of forced-grin. Their eyes shone brightly with a sort of delirious joy. I started to feel a push from behind me. The crowd was pushing me towards the counter. "Get some coffee, just try it, it's the best..." I felt a firm grip on my arm as somebody literally dragged me through the crowd and out of the restaurant. Outside, I took a look at the man. He was very large and wore, you guessed it, an orange jumpsuit. His dark eyes met mine. In them I saw a fierce fire, a determination. "Do *not* drink the coffee," he rumbled. "For the rebellion." And then he disappeared.
I sat on the sidewalk. Looking back in the restaurant, I could still see the customers, drinking their coffee, wearing their unnatural smiles.
I decided to take the hint.
---
/r/Alias_Fakename | 2017-01-20T10:52:55 | 2017-01-20T10:43:24 | 55 | 29 |
[WP] As you grow up you realize you can understand and can speak all languages. You get used to by time. But one day you hear someone/something speak a language which you can't understand. | John's face flushed red, and a slight warmth crept across his cheeks.
Perhaps it was the heat? A cool breeze quickly dismissed the notion.
Embarrassment? It couldn't be. He couldn't even recall the last time he had felt this way.
John always had a natural affinity to languages. In fact, calling it a natural affinity would be selling it short. English, Chinese, German, Japanese, or even sign language, he could understand and speak (or sign) it all. And he could do it all *perfectly*.
As it turns out, when one fully grasps every language, it becomes quite easy to understand intentions, avoid misunderstandings, and, as a result, avoid embarrassment.
Yet what else could this be but embarrassment?
"I'm sorry?", stammered John nervously, for the first time unsure of what he had heard.
"Oh... never mind... it's ok. You're probably busy. I should get going. Just ignore what I said. Nice talking to you." Muttered Amy haphazardly, rushing together multiple strings of sentences in such a flurry that they seemed to all blur together.
A prodigy. That's what they all called him at first. When his talent was first discovered his parents were overjoyed and the media fascinated. He was flown to country after country as a worldwide celebrity. Then, he was brought book after book of lost languages in hopes that he could revive them. And he did. The literary world was overjoyed. A genius had appeared that could solve the plethora of questions that had plagued them for generations.
John hurriedly spat out, "No no. I just didn't quite catch what you said."
"Oh.". Amy paused. She seemed to take a moment to recollect herself. She asked again, "Would you be free to have some coffee sometime?"
He wasn't mistaken. It was English. This wasn't some obscure language. Quite the opposite, it was the first language he had ever "learned". Yet why did this simple question seem so foreign? Perhaps she meant that as an excuse to prod at him. She wouldn't be the first.
However, even though John couldn't determine her exact intentions, he could tell one thing; this was different than all the others.
Everyone thought that John's ability encompassed only the traditional definition of language. That belief was quickly refuted when at the age of 14, John demonstrated a talent in mathematics. And then computer science at 15. Then physics at 16. His ability extended to equations, theorems, and even accounting. It was at this point that things drastically changed.
There were still those that came to seek knowledge. John did not mind them too much; an eclectic bunch but, in general, good natured. There were those that came to challenge him. Some to try to catch him off guard and others who viewed him as the greatest competition in their field. Both sought the glory of "besting the smartest man alive". Even those were not too bad.
Then there were those that came to do nothing but *look*. Like he was some sort of animal in a zoo. To them he wasn't a prodigy. He was something else. A *freak*.
But John could tell that Amy had none of these intentions. She wasn't looking for answers, wasn't trying to challenge him, and, most importantly, wasn't trying to observe him. But then what was she here for?
In the silence, he noticed that her hands were clenched into little balls, tugging at her beautiful white dress. Her brows were furrowed. Her face was flushed red.
*She's also ... embarrassed?*, thought John.
He pondered for a moment. Then he smiled. He still didn't understand what the question truly meant. But that seemed fine. Perhaps it would be better that he didn't know.
"How's Thursday?"
| First time trying this, let me know how I did!
안녕하세요, je m'appelle Lucius. Whoops, sorry about that, I sometimes interchange languages mid sentence... Happens when you know every language you hear. If you want to know how I ended up knowing every language it's a rather interesting tale for another time... The gist of it is my teachers were baffled by my innate ability to understand every language they could throw at me; Spanish? Considérelo hecho. Japanese? 簡単すぎる. You name it, I understood it. The government thought they could use someone like me, much better than a normal translator, they said I could perfectly translate a sentence the moment someone was saying it... They weren't wrong... But after my parents couldn't legally make me I've been living a life of exploring different countries, cultures, languages. I was even lucky enough to be asked to do an AMA in Holland today, the studio is only an hour away, it is going to happen... Let's see...
"Javla va fan, it's today!" I yelled as I started to run to my room to change. I hadn't work a suit, or even done up a tie since Rick's funeral, which only brought up more anxiety. As soon as I had the suit on and tie tied I bolted for my car keys and hopped into the SUV. "Always have to hit the red lights, don't ya Lue..." I muttered to myself, just before arriving at the tube 20 minutes late. "Hope they didn't plan on doing this live". The ride was quiet, there was only one passenger other than me, so I struck up a conversation "Where's the party, am I right?" I said rather awkwardly in Dutch, and to my surprise he let out a chuckle and explained "Downtown, there's an AMA with this multilingual guy who knows every language, or some crap like that" and I excitedly replied "Hey, that's me! Why is everyone so excited to ask me anything?" Which I only received a questioning look as if to say "Why would I know?". Luckily this was our stop and our conversation ended right on time with a quick goodbye. "Man, who would wanna ask me questions, rather than go to a concert, or see a movie, or-" I cut myself off mid sentence "You know what? Maybe people ask us questions because they think we have something of value to say" I stated as I proudly walked into the studio. "Mr. Lucius! How wonderful to greet you!" the receptionist glowed "The audience is waiting for you through that door over there" she exclaimed as she pointed to a large door to my left. I felt like I was on top of the world, answering questions left and right, such as "what is your favourite language" or "do you ever mix up grammar rules between languages", until the man who I had talked to on the subway asked a question. All I could reply with was "What?" The audience started getting confused, and the man spoke louder and clearer again. Still I could not understand what he had said. It did not sound like gibberish, or anything familiar. It is almost as if he said nothing at all, but also everything at once. Audience members started telling me what he had said and as soon as they hit "he said -" their voices became the same as his. They were concerned I had brain damage, or that I was going to die outright. An ambulance showed up, they tried writing to me as we rushed to the hospital but it was like seeing writing being there, but not there just like the voices. I saw lines on the paper but I thought- no, I knew there was nothing there. I also knew that they had written on the paper so there must be something there; It was truly terrifying. As we neared the hospital it was almost peaceful, just the sounds of the city without the voices. I knew I was still there in the ambulance with people talking to me and trying to communicate but all I could do was try to assure them through body language. My vision was starting to distort, faces appeared where there was none, movement on still objects, it looked much like a twisted nightmare, but for some reason it all looked familiar. It felt like I belonged here, and it was comforting. I reach out to touch what I knew had to be food despite the twisted visions, but I could not feel anything, I could not move anything I could not hear or see anything. For the first time I was truly isolated from the world without a form to communicate. I couldn't even communicate to myself. I wanted to curl up into a ball and be safe at home in bed, but it felt horrid to try to do anything, even though I could not feel anything. I finally awoke from this terrible realm to find myself being talked to in the same voices I heard moments before I slipped away, but this time I understood the meaning. I was laying in a bed with my father sitting at my side and I understood what he was saying somehow. I tried to reply but I couldn't; it was almost like I was watching a film. That's when I saw *him*. The man on the train. The creator of the first language. The creator of all the languages. Sounds never thought possible, he would create. I punched him square in the throat and he fell over, obviously hurt by my punch, which was strange considering everything else that happened. My consciousness was higher than it could even understand, we were more than a god, we were every single atom to ever exist, every atom that didn't, every single shred of soul, consciousness, whatever, you name it; we were everything and nothing, the man in the train was me, the audience was me, you, the reader, are me. The limited bodies we inhabit can not perceive what we really are. We are unity. We connect everything. We do everything. Without us there is nothing. Knowing every language was the extent of what we could handle in that body and as soon as we broke that limit everything broke. We broke. The only thing we know is that this is eternal and it will never end, forever a cycle, but at the same time a straight line. Us, the reader, I bid you adieu.
**Writers Note** well that went off the rails and sure is long... Please feel free to improve, and I'd love feedback, I'm not a writer, but I think it is very interesting and I'd love to improve, and as always... BOOP | 2017-04-15T17:42:21 | 2017-04-15T14:03:09 | 49 | 11 |
[WP] You're abducted from your bed and taken to an unknown location. You remove the blindfold and you're sitting in front of a PC in a lone cubicle in an empty office building. The work schedule on the cubicle wall says your shift ends in 8 hours. The nameplate on the side of the cubicle says "God". | “Uhhhh...”
I stare at the nameplate for a moment.
I can feel my form begin to shift,transcending this corporeal realm,my thought begins to grasp the great plan,the great number,fourty tw-
“Oh,sorry.” Says a timid voice from behind.
“Must’ve been a typo from the new girls.” A hand reaches for the nameplate,and swiftly switches it with another. Now it says ‘Dog’.
“You’re free to go now.” The small floating wheel says.
With a small ‘pop’ i’m back.
“There’s a good boy.” The wheel scratches my head,and flys towards the end of the hall.
I run down the hall with my tail waggling. | There was no 'any key' key.
If I were really God then there would have been an 'any key' key. Why? because that's what I thought when I read, 'Press any key to continue' from the screen in front of me.
And whatever God thinks becomes real, of course, so there would have been an 'Any Key' key.
Or at least a plain 'Any' key.
I pressed SHIFT.
A progress bar appeared.
A progress bar. For GOD!?
"Hello? Uh, is anybody out there?" I yelled over the vast cubicle forest of the infinite, darkened office floor.
Silence.
I sat back down.
The progress bar progressed.
I heard a clicking and a buzzing, I put my ear closer to the PC's case. *A mechanical hard drive, for GOD!?* what was going on?
I stood and gazed again around the endless grid of eye-height office dividers. The air smelled like an office (paper, coffee, stress, and perfume) and the side of the cubicle felt like fabric: This was all real.
Two things then happened: The progress bar on the PC finished with a classic Apple Mac start sound and, simultaneously, the fluorescent ceiling lights began to turn on, starting with the unit directly above my cubicle.
My neighboring cubicles lights turned on next, and then their neighbors. I watched, dumbstruck as the vast square of ceiling lamps continued to expand out over the distant cubes. After five minutes I could only see a faint, black line where the lamps seemed to converge with the horizon, and could only barely, by squinting, see the lamps that were now turning on.
I sat down to a desktop with a single README file on it.
I double clicked, but it opened on the first click.
*WELCOME NEW GOD!* it read. Well, that's not such a bad start.
*SADLY THE OLD GOD IS DEAD.* Not the best second line I've ever read.
*YOU NOW GET TO DO HIS JOB.* Hmm. 'Job' sounded like work.
*AND BY 'GET TO' WE MEAN 'MUST'.* Yes, definitely sounds like work. Well, it's an office building after all, so.
*BUT HEY, YOU'RE GOD RIGHT?* I stared around at the expanse of empty building. This didn't seem like heaven.
*~~~~~~~~~~~* What they have limited characters here?
*PLEASE STAND BY WHILE WE ARE REBOOTING.* Didn't they just boot up!?
*THE GODGLE EARTH PROGRAM WILL BE ON LINE* ...Was that a typo? It probably wasn't.
*IN 30 TIME UNITS.* ...Uh, how long is a time unit?
*PLEASE STAND BY.*
I waited and wondered where I was going to eat, drink, sleep, or go to the bathroom. The answer to the last two seemed depressingly obvious. I stood and looked at the brightly lit cubicles around me again, pondering my impending, corporate-style demise.
The computer chimed and when I turned the small monitor had transformed into a much larger, full color screen with a view of my old office job!
I sat quickly and used the intuitive controls to go to my old cubicle.
There was no cubicle there. The entire building layout of my old life had been altered! Shrunk by five feet on each side (this statistic was displayed on GODGLE Earth's HUD - very intuitive).
I began to frantically search the Earth for other parts of my life. | 2017-10-06T20:07:16 | 2017-10-06T20:01:57 | 114 | 26 |
[WP] Your father leaves the house to buy milk, 50 years later he comes back with milk in hand and hasn't aged a bit. | I couldn’t understand why he was smiling. I watched as my father looked around almost uncertainly before setting the jug of milk on the counter. There was no apology in his smile. There was only the same warmth I remembered as a boy when he watched me score a goal in soccer. Nonetheless it did nothing to diffuse the rage rumbling inside of me.
“What are you doing here?” I snapped. My father’s smile falters for a moment.
“This is my house, son. I guess I don’t understand the question.” He rubbed the black stubble on his chin.
“No,” I practically launched myself up from the kitchen table. “This is my house! I inherited it almost 25 years ago when Mom died. Remember her? The woman you left?”
The calm never left his gaze as he picked the milk back up and placed it inside the refrigerator.
“You’re a piece of shit,” I snarled. “How dare you show your face here?” I watched him and the confusion finally set in. Not a single gray hair was on his head. No wrinkles. In fact, he was wearing the exact same red flannel shirt I last saw him in. My father leaned up against the wall. A calendar grazed the top of his head.
Normally an even-tempered man myself, I was becoming crushed under the heat of volcanic disdain. I charged my father and slammed my fists into his chest.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me? What you’ve done to Mom? She was never the same after you left! I was never the same! I looked up to you! I hate you!” I pounded his chest. “I hate you! I hate you!”
Amidst my incoherent screaming I suddenly froze. The massive bear arms of my father wrapped around me.
“Oh, son. Will you forgive me?”
I couldn’t breathe. The weight of hate filled years melted away under the even heavier weight of my farther’s arms.
“Yes,” my own whisper woke me. I opened my tear blurred eyes. I blinked away the dream and saw the inside of my father’s house. | Received Messages from Dad.
Thursday 16th Nov 2017 4:04pm
We've run out of milk, I've gone to get some more from the shop. Love Dad.
Thursday 16th Nov 2017 4:30pm
The shop was sold out of milk, I'm trying the other store. Love Dad.
Thursday 16th Nov 2017 5:02pm
The other shop was sold out too, the guy told me they didn't get a delivery this morning. I'm going to head to the deliver centre now. I need my god damn coffee. Say hi to mom for me. Love Dad.
Thursday 16th Nov 2017 7:23pm
The delivery centre was closed. I don't get it. These places run 24/7. I'll wait here until I see someone.
Thursday 16th Nov 2017 9:01pm
Still no one. This is nuts. I'm going to sleep in my car. Tell your mom. Love Dad.
Friday 17th Nov 2017 9:19am
Finally spoke to the manager. He said that the dairy shipment is a week late. Without any milk he had to close the place down until monday. He only came in to check for the truck. He wouldn't tell me anything else, I'm suspicious. I'm going to go to the dairy, it's not too far. Love Dad.
Friday 17th Nov 2017 1:43pm
I'm at the dairy, it's also shut. The manager there said that there's an industrial dispute with the farmers going on. When I demanded milk he laughed at me and said I'd have to talk to the farmers. Damn him. I'm off to the closest dairy farm. Love Dad.
Friday 17th Nov 2017 10:34pm
I'm half way there. It's taking a lot longer due to various interstate closures. Thankfully Bessy can go overland quite nicely. Is there anything on the news about this? Let me know. Love Dad.
Saturday 18th Nov 2017 4:56am
I could barely sleep. The jets flying over head towards the lights in the sky kept waking me up. I should be at the closet farm soon. Love Dad.
Saturday 18th Nov 2017 9:32am
I made it to the farm, but there's black vans EVERYWHERE. I sneaked into the farm house and overheard them talking about UFOs, and missing cows. I'm going to try and come home asap. Love Dad.
Saturday 18th Nov 2017 9:36am
They are searching for me! If I don't make it out, I love you, your sister and your mom. My will is in the top dr
Thursday 8th Feb 2018 12:00pm
I'm not dead. Love Dad.
Monday 21st May 2018 4.52pm
Training is finally finished. Mission begins tomorrow. I'm using my sim card on a stolen phone. I love my family.
Tuesday 20th May 2042 1:09am
I'm not sure if this will work, subspace communication and cellular data probably won't mix. We've finally arrived at Groxon. The Groxars stole all of our cows because theirs died of a genetic disease. Instead of coming to an understanding about taking half of them, they took them all. The FBI, CIA and NASA recruited me to fly one of the Groxar ships for them. They shot down dozens that night, before the Groxar started shooting back. Hopefully you guys weren't part of the casualties. So we're taking the fight to them, the American way. We'll make those bastards pay. Think of my family, Love Dad.
Monday 16th February 2067 5:14pm
Sorry that it's been 50 years. Time dilation and the law of relativity and all of that. The mission was a success at least. Turns out the Army rigged the Groxar spaceships with nukes. Their planet is now a radioactive dust ball. Serves them right I guess. I see that Earth took advantage of Groxar technology and I'll be taking a flying taxi home from the space port. Weird that the last 50 years have felt like a couple of days, I guess because it pretty much was. Travelling at 99.9% of the speed of light does that. I see that mom is still alive, give her a hug from me and warn her a little bit. Tell her I'm younger than my own kids now! Maybe not though, if either of you got messed up in the deep space exploration that NASA started. Can't wait to see you tomorrow! Love Dad.
Tuesday 17th February 2067 10:00pm
I'll be home in an hour. Love Dad.
Tuesday 17th February 2067 10:02pm
Damn. I forgot the milk. | 2022-05-13T11:22:44 | 2017-11-19T17:49:04 | 1,516 | 276 |
[WP] You were the first person to be born without super powers in nearly a thousand years. When it was discovered that you had no powers you became an instant celebrity. Thanks to this, villains and heroes alike seek you out to either kidnap or rescue you on a daily basis. You are sick of it. | What's special about me? Nothing.
That's not *actually* a bad thing, not really. It's like those days when you say you're "doing nothing", and it actually means you have carefully planned to not do a single thing, and this does not mean you're "free".
See, everyone else is so caught up in their own heads, struggling with their abilities, trying to find their tribe. Are they a villain, or a hero? And if they are a hero, what type of hero? Then they see me. The Balancing Point. There they are, with all their abilities, their tribes on either side of the scale, and I'm standing there, precisely in the middle of No Man's Land, the exact middle of nowhere, able to tilt the power one way or another. And so they try to push me, to pull me.
The Heroes tried to give me powers from the moment I was born. My mother's a Hero. Nothing fancy, just a regular Un-Seen. She started sneaking me into the baby wards and would rub me on the other, powered kids, expecting me to catch their powers like chickenpox. The ones with lightning for eyebrows, toes like flippers, the few hovering three feet above their cribs. Nothing stuck. Eventually, she got caught, by a SightMaker, one who could see the Un-Seen. And that's when it all started, and I got passed around more than the Presidency, shown to the whole Hero crowd. I was a curiosity, in need of 'saving'. But I don't see why powers are so great. They cause so much tension, so much difficulty. I met this one kid, once, who had the power all five year olds dream of: sweet manifestation. He had no teeth left at all, and every time he cried, lollipops grew in the front lawn like trees. His parents joked that they needed to wear beekeeper suits to change his nappies. I went there. I saw his toilet, streaked with honey, and I had to fight through the swarm of bugs to get in and out. I hoped all night that night, that I didn't wake up on a bed of liquorice.
Then there's the Villains. I don't know. Maybe they're the real heroes here. There are a few purists, who think that powers should be for the few not the many, and then the radicals, who want a complete abolition of powers. As soon as they heard about me they tried to grab me, to work out why I was special, how I was special. To try and replicate it, take powers away. One of them took me to a time before this, or projected it into my mind. I stopped listening after I saw the Eiffel Tower without the teleportation tubes round it. It looked beautiful, so calm and peaceful, with clear skies and no burrowing mines. And then I was slapped back to reality. All they want is to bring that time back. It's a fool's dream, but maybe it wouldn't be so bad.
But I'm just sitting here, writing. The Heroes have me right now. They're beginning to lose interest in me. Some have said that I'm not normal, and should never have been born. Others still think of me as something utterly fascinating. Today, I'll probably shake a few hands, corporeal, incorporeal, and the squidgy in-between things. Kiss a dozen babies, then move on. It's an exhausting racket. Meanwhile, I'm sitting here, just writing. Tomorrow, I'll meet with the Villains, and will probably try to seek sanctuary somehow. But I'll have to do it quietly, and only with the people I trust. And meanwhile, I'm sitting here, writing a letter to my unborn child.
Gods, I hope you don't have any powers in there. | " 'O...MY...GOD! It's him! Is it Him?' the voluptuous villain's sweet vacherin voice vacillating between very vagarian and vaguely vagient voiced," yelled a scrawny man in a purple and white onsie, putting his own spin on the action around him. Yes, a very curvaceous woman had only a moment ago pointed at me and screamed like the beginning of a Sir-Mix-a-lot song, but only a Versemonger could find a way to turn such a simple action into twenty two words. A versemonger, someone who is apt at writing mediocre poetry (I looked it up the second or third time I met one) is one of the plethora of supers who have largely useless abilities. At least those with mediocre super-strength can still lift thousand pound boulders and those with mild super-speed can run as fast as an the Olympic sprinter of the B.A era. How pathetic it must be to have super powers and know that they are useless. At least I have no powers to be embarrassed of in the first place, though that certainly comes with it's own set of problems.
I can write poetry, probably, so I imagine those classified as versemongers have an unknown, underlying secret to what makes them super outside their luke-warm rhyming and ability to alliterate. Looking at the man in front of me, his ersatz bulge obnoxiously conspicuous as he declares his poetry into the air, I wonder if it might be a lack of shame. The woman the versemonger was speaking about, on the other hand, was likely a Flut, or possibly a Gambolini; I could see her in the air, but whether or not she could flutter and fly or just jump spectacularly wasn't apparent at the moment. Either way, they both were the type of supers that annoyed me. Not because I was afraid of them, they were no Quietaur, but because they always brought the swarm.
You see, 1000 years ago apparently I was the norm. No super powerful punches or crazy stretching abilities, just uniformity with slight modifications between creatures. Now, even our dogs have more latent ability than me. Super animals are not as ubiquitous as super humans, but I've seen my fair share of canines shooting laser beams at cars, cats clawing through metal doors, and monocled mecha-playapuses (yes, I have seen multiple) spraying poison mist. Centuries ago science started to classify all the humans and animals with varying abilities into different clades, thinking the super abilities to be linked to spontaneous adaptation events: effectively believing the super powers to be obtained in a moment of great peril. That, dear reader, is how everyone knows I don't have a super power: I died.
Okay, so I only kinda died. I was declared dead for exactly 10 seconds before I was able to be resuscitated back when I was 12. For such an event to have occurred, and no powers be obtained, it meant I simply must be the first person in a millennia to not have powers. That's what the scientists said. That's what the government said. That's what the papers said. And that is what started all my problems.
When it comes to supers, Versemongers and flying women are only the tip of the iceberg. Unfortunately, if I stay where I am, the rest of that giant mass of testosterone and estrogen will be barreling down on me promptly. I pull on my all white onsie, tug at the crotch for a moment as I always must, and slip the hood over my head. Nothing but a giant white suit with eye holes, I was dressing like every other super in the world. That means I can blend in, to a degree. When everything is abnormal, seeing something blatantly regular feels wrong. While a super could walk into a room of 10 people and find 10 people without their own power, people's abilities tend to manifest themselves in ways that you could simply - notice. Thinking back on whether or not the versemonger was talking about a flut or a gambolini, one could postulate that due to her powerful thighs and massive chest area, she was likely a gambolini. To jump around everywhere like that green monster in the old GodMouse movies of the 21st century, you need to have large quadriceps and calves. The chest is likely just the aliens or God or whatever you believe in giving the world a wink and double-shooter fingers. That is where my problems arise: with no power, I have no abnormal feature related to that power. When I am in a location with many supers, with or without my suit on, this gives me away even when there isn't a ViewFinder or an X-Raynor around, who can spot me in an instant. Another group that can spot me in an instant? The damn paparazzi.
I only walk about 100 yards before a Transmitter teleports in front of me out of thin air, either the versemonger or one of the other supers around having likely LifeBooked a picture of me - an occurrence that summons one of these scum every time.
"Micheal Disney!" I bow my head with a sudden bob in dejection; no point denying it. Not only am I powerless, my name is about as plain as you could get. The most common first name in the world and the most common last name in the world. I never knew my parents, but maybe their super abilities were being super boring?
"Micheal Disney! The Weakling! The Weak-n-ator!" the papparazi continues to speak, hoping to get a response from me to post online. "Have you been kidnapped today? Attacked? " It knew the answer was no - once you self-atomize and transmit somewhere you stop being defined by the terms of humanity. Someone, some -thing, like that always knows the answer to the question they ask. "Moooooolllested?!"
"Only by you." Shit. I spoke. I never speak. If I speak it just brings more flies. Almost in unison with my thought, but a fraction of a moment delayed from my utterance, three more Transmitters appear out of thin air before me. "Mondays" I sigh with a whisper, the noise likely caught by a little girl 3,000 miles away. | 2019-08-13T00:43:52 | 2019-08-12T22:38:18 | 334 | 95 |
[WP] At the age of 16 everyone gets teleported into a small room. In front of you is a table with all kinds of meals from apples to gourmet meats. Whatever you take a bite of will determine what superpower you'll get. You are the first Person to take a bite of the table itself | (I don't usually write for these so be gentle)
The day finally came. It was my turn like my brother and sister before me. They each got their powers and now have been assigned jobs that took advantage of their powers.
My brother with his super strength works in a foundry lifting heavy materials. While my sister with her healing powers works in the local hospital. Both are super happy with their lives mostly.
Some of my older friends have their powers as well. Some are really cool and useful like my siblings. Some aren't as useful like my friend who got super speed typing.
Now it was my turn. The elders and trainers looked on in the room we were all in. Every power had a specific trainer. Their job was to make sure you learned how to use your powers correctly. Everyone had to walk up to what they were gonna eat. Then we all took a bite at the same time.
Usually a bit of hell broke loose for a moment as people got used to their new abilities. Some things let you even morph into animals! I wouldn't mind that one. You get to work at the zoo as an exhibit.
We then heard the 1 minute warning. We all got ready to take a bite out of our food. Except me, I hadn't picked anything yet. I quickly thought about the different foods as time was being counted down. If you didn't take a bite out of something you'd be a "normie" or "PL" a powerless individual. That's not something you want. Then I heard the count down and panicked. I kneeled down and when I heard "Bite!" I took a bite out of the table.
I heard a few gasps from the elders and trainers. I did something never done before. See what we didn't know was that every food had been prepared by the trainers according to a special recipe and that's how their powers were passed on during this short window in our life. However, no one could remember who on earth made the table. It had always been there since the beginning.
As other people's powers came forth and the elders were dealing with that, one came up to me and asked how I was feeling. "Nothing has happened yet. So I don't know." I said to them. "Well it can take some time to manifest. Go get some water and splash some on your face. See how you feel." they replied.
So I went to the bathroom and splashed some water on my face. As I was calming down I was reminded of a rain storm when I was younger. The water splashing on my face made me remember it. All of a sudden I heard rain outside and a voice in my head say "Command accepted. Altering weather to rainstorm."
I froze. Where did that voice come from? I then thought about sunny weather instead to see if I could get it to come back. I heard it again "Command accepted. Altering weather to calm and sunny. Average temperature.". What was this I thought to myself. Then I heard a reply that scared me "Welcome back Superuser. Root command access granted. Account Deity reactivated."
An elder I hadn't seen previously came and found me at the sink and said "We need to talk about your new power. There's only supposed to be one of us at time. You weren't supposed to take a bite out of my table ya goof." with a smile on his face. "Come now. You have a lot to learn so I can finally die in peace." | As a kid, my friends and I loved to chat, debate and even argue what we'd eat when we entered the power room. We didn't know what food gave what power (everyone who went through it could not speak of that without losing their power), so we always theorised what we'd get.
Gemma insisted she'd find the food that had telekinesis. Her twin sister, Lucy, didn't care what power she got but always said she'd eat the sweetest thing there. Zack wanted invisiblity, and Toby would change his mind every other day. That left myself, and Ralph.
I just enjoyed hearing my friends debate the whole topic, before we gave up on making ourselves agree and went to the park. Ralph though... He was Odd. He'd never say anything about what he wanted from the power room, he just kept thinking up "what if" ideas.as the youngest, he'd go to the room last. But he still seemed to think about it more than the rest of us combined.
It was the day before Gemma and Lucy's Sixteenth,. We were sat under a bridge in town, with a load of alcohol Zack had snuck out from his parents' garage. All of us were drunk and just having fun. Toby tried to flirt with Gemma, but got roasted by the others for his efforts. That's when Ralph had probably the dumbest idea is heard out of his mouth.
"hey guys," he'd said, "what do you think happens if you bite the table?"
We all stopped, confused.
"what the hell are you on about?" I slurred. I was a bit of a lightweight when it came to drinking, and I was several swigs of whiskey in.
"You know, in the room. What happens if you take a bite from the table instead of the food?"
None of us responded with words, but our laughter echoed under the bridge. I was still giggling after the laughter had died down, until I saw the hurt look on Ralph's face. I immediately felt guilty.
Once the others had gone back to roughing each other up, I half-walked half-shuffled over to Ralph.
"You are really curious about that aren't you?" I asked. "it wasn't one of your usual 'what if' jokes?"
"Yeah... It's the question I've had since I found out about it. You guys are the first ones I told it to."
I put my hand on his shoulder. "Hey, don't worry about it. If I don't know what to so, I'll bite the table for you."
His eyes lit up. "Really?"
"Really."
Six months and four days later, and I'm in the room. It's a plain white-walled room with a huge wooden table, laden with a piece of every kind of food you could imagine. The catch is, only one person can have a particular food. No two people born on the same day can eat the same food. With dozens of people in the room, it was carnage. About four people were popping in to the room each second, and only when someone ate a piece of food did they disappear.
It takes five minutes before I muster up the courage to approach the table. I take a step forward, but immediately get knocked to the floor by a guy twice my size pushing me aside. With so many people around me, I scurry under the table, to see a girl nearby doing the same. A weirdly coloured orange segment drops to the floor next to me. I pick it up and offer it to the girl. She grabs it, bites and disappears.
I sit there for a while, wondering what to do. I don't want to get bullied around up there, but I don't want to just grab some random piece of food. Then I remember my drunken promise to Ralph, and wonder what the hell I am about to do.
I lean over, and bite the nearest table leg.
And everything goes black.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In the blackness, I hear a voice.
WELL THAT'S A NEW ONE. DIDN'T TAKE HUMANITY FOR THE INVENTIVE TYPE. WHAT IS YOUR NAME, HUMAN?
"Lily." my voice responds, but I did not tell it to. What is going on? I'm scared.
WELL, LILY. YOU ARE THE FIRST HUMAN TO TRY TO BITE THE TABLE ITSELF, INSTEAD OF SOME OF THE FOOD I PROVIDE. SO, YOU HAVE TWO OPTIONS. GO BACK AND PICK FROM THE FOOD, OR GAIN A POWER THAT I DESIGN.
"Didn't you design the powers in the room?"
HA! NO, I DID NOT. THOSE ARE SIMPLY POWERS THAT HUMANS DESIRE, MAPPED ON TO FOOD THEY ENJOY. THE MORE THE POWER IS DESIRED, THE MORE POPULAR FOOD IT IS IMPRINTED ON. NO, MY DESIGNS ARE QUITE DIFFERENT.
I can't think. I don't know what to do. I just-
YOU SHOULD NOT BE HERE TOO LONG. DECIDE QUICKLY.
My head feels like it is about to explode.
"Give me a power." yet again, my mouth moved on its own.
VERY WELL.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
i'm back. Back at my birthday party. It's ten past nine in the evening, so I've been gone for half an hour. I barely have time to sit down when Gemma flattens me against the sofa
"You're back! How come you were there so long?" now everyone sees me, and I'm crowded. Everyone is asking questions. I don't like this.
"Look i-"
I am pulled to my feet without warning. Zack and Ralph are there, separating me from the crowd.
Zack takes a step forward. "guys, chill out! Y'all know how Lucy hates pressure, so back off!" the crowd thins out after that. Ralph pulls me into a side room and the rest of the gang follow. I grab the nearest beanbag and collapse into it.
"So, what did you get?" Toby is lying across the table, head gently resting on Lucy's shoulder. Everyone else is stood behind them.
"I... Don't know" I say. | 2020-03-19T10:22:13 | 2020-03-19T09:01:40 | 172 | 63 |
[WP] You have been living in solitude in the middle of nowhere for over 5 years now. One day, a group of intruders enter your house. The group just walk around and film the whole place using action cams. "Here's where the previous owner died 6 years ago," one of them speaks into their camera. | With an instinctive flurry of movement, I tuck into the little room under the stairs and close the door as quickly and quietly as I can, heart thumping, hands going clammy.
I swallow hard and try to get myself under control. The voices echoing inside the house come at my ears like an assault. They must have come back. After all this time, they must have come back. I could have gone elsewhere, should have gone elsewhere, but I told myself it was over. I told myself I had nowhere else to go.
Now I'm regretting it all. I ball my hands into fists and squeeze my eyes tight in anger and fear. I can hear them getting closer. Any moment, they're going to open the door and find me.
I hear their voices, one of them talking, saying, "Here's where the previous owner died 6 years ago." The voice instructs one of the others to adjust the camera.
Sick. They're going to film the whole thing. Six years ago, they took Tommy. Now they're going to take me.
The footsteps get closer to the door. I can hear them right outside it.
Tommy didn't deserve to die. Tommy was a good man. But he messed with the wrong people. I should have been harder with him, insisting he not, but he told me it was temporary, that he'd get out once he had what we needed. He told me we'd run away and hide and we'd be fine. Then they came for him.
They came and I hid like a coward and had to listen as they took him screaming outside and... I couldn't bear it. For the next month, I slept in the room under the stairs, just in case they came back. Gradually, I convinced myself I'd be fine. It was over. They'd come for who they'd come for. Over the years, I relaxed a little. But then, something changed. The letters I started getting. Cryptic and strange. It seemed like coded language, meant to scare and intimidate me.
But still I told myself it would be fine. I was imagining it. It was nothing.
Now, my pitiful life stretches before me as I hear them right outside the door. For nearly six years, I've spent my life hiding from life, hiding in fear. Hiding from the specter of a past I never wanted to be a part of. I think back to what I wanted to be when I was younger and more innocent. A painter with a simple little gallery. I remember my mother's kindly laugh as she'd urge me on and comfort me when I struggled. I want to go back there. To try again at life. The thought of losing that fills me with a sense of rage. The hope I can get it back fills me with a sense of purpose. I have to survive to prove I'm not a coward, to prove it was worth something in the end. I have to survive so I can try again at life and make my little gallery, even if no one ever views it. It's all I've got.
I find the knife I carved and wrap my hand around the handle, shuddering, as the door creaks and begins to open. | "Pardon? Who died here, who are you people, do you have a permit to kick open my door, stop ignoring me, you hooligans." Old man Sam, found himself stopping his foot before the group of teenagers, trying to grab their attention, yet the group just seemed to wander around him, more interested in the strange decor of the room.
"It still smells like an old man in here, it's horrible, like a mix of radishes and chicken feet. Has anyone got a deodorant or something, just anything that can hide the old man musk, I feel like breathing in the fumes from Chernobyl would be less dangerous on my lungs than this. The woman covered her mouth with the edge of her jacket, doing her best to try and keep the smell out of her face, waving her hand towards the old man, nearly smacking him across the face. "It's getting closer, can you seriously not smell it?"
"Sssh Melissa, here take my whirlwind, thunder and motorbikes deodorant, the only deodorant for the manly man." He held up the deodorant towards one of the cameras before tossing the can to Melissa.
"What was that James, you taking money on the side or something? We are here to film a documentary, if I wanted to film an advertisement, I wouldn't have squished up in a car with you lot for twelve hours to do it.
"Seriously Mark, don't be dumb, you need to make sure you are selling products, think about it this way if we put some sponsorship in and this goes viral, we will get all that sweet, sweet revenue, we could be living on easy street just because we promoted a brand. Of course, we won't include that in the first cut we release, we don't want to give them the promotion for free."
"You're an idiot James... Do you honestly believe we will get more than two viewers, it's just an old house, we aren't going to catch any ghosts, the only thing we might catch is tetanus from all the rusted nails sticking out of this place. Can we just take some footage and go?"
"What are you scared?" Melissa asked as she sprayed the toxic deodorant right in Sam's face, causing the old man to stir, feeling his lungs pinch, a dry cough leaving his throat, a loud wheezing snort leaving his nose causing all the teens in the room to jump
"The hell is that, it's the government, they are here man, they are here and they are going to read our minds, I have to much stuff in my brain, I don't want them to suck my memories out." A small five-foot woman screeched, terror painting her face before she was promptly had her forehead flicked by Mark.
"It was just a creak, most likely from the old stairs, stop freaking out, why did we even invite the twitch?" He muttered, already going to collect one of the cameras he had set down, getting ready to leave.
Sam moved away from the cloud of deodorant, rubbing his nose. "YOU BLOOD KIDS, YOU ARE REALLY GETTING ON MY LAST NERVE." He warned, yet they seemed to ignore his words. "Grrrr... I know you hear me, you all just jumped, if I had a phone I would be calling the cops so they could come and give you all a thrashing.
"Twitch has cameras, I couldn't just ask for her cameras and not invite her, that would have been rude." James had been looking through his pockets for other items to sponsor, only pausing, turning back to face the group. "Not... to sound like twitch, but I just heard something growl, it was like a grrrr."
"I... um think I heard that too," Melissa admitted as they all looked to Mark who simply tossed his arms in the air.
"Guys, if you are going to act, you should at least be convincing, no one is going to buy that. Let's just get our stuff together, there are other haunted houses on the way home, we can stop at one of them, it's been five years since the old man that lived here passed, we won't even find his body for some shock value."
"Right, yeah... Guess it's time to go" Melissa sighed as she began collecting her gear, everyone about to leave until Twitch grabbed an antique lamp, swinging it around the room.
"You wanna go government? I know one form of karate and two forms of myarte." She warned as she stepped around the room.
"Anyone know what the fuck myarte is?" Mark asked as Melissa shrugged, James simply rubbed his forehead letting out a sigh. "It's... her form of karate, like my-karate. Look we needed the cameras."
Suddenly the lamp seemed to wave around in the air as the old man began pulling at it. "LET GO OF MY LAMP YOU LITTLE LOONEY TOON." The dramatic battle taking place to a confused group, at first they thought this was some sort of weird acting until they heard that said ghostly grunting and wheezing.
"Film it! Film it!" Mark shouted as the pair got out their cameras, filming the display as Twitch was knocked down, the lamp flying out of the old man's hands, colliding with the wall behind her and shattering, giving them all a frightful scare.
"How did... you do that Twitch?" The group circled the strange girl who chuckled.
"Myarte!" She said making a chopping pose with her hands as the group let out a chuckle.
"She's weird but she can act, come on, let's get out of here, we have our footage." The group nodded, heading out the door, ignoring the bits of lamp magically cleaning itself behind them.
"Act?" Twitch said, a little confused but in the end, she was just happy to be included.
{If you enjoyed my story, Feel free to check out r/pmmeyabootysstories Any support helps! I will also be posting more of my writing there.} | 2020-04-29T23:40:39 | 2020-04-29T22:38:08 | 28 | 12 |
[WP] You are an ice dragon who has been asleep for thousands of years. You are awakened by a group of tiny humans who promise you an unfathomable amount of wealth. They call themselves "Microsoft" and ask that allow them to move a large number black boxes into the unnatural chill of your lair. | The large white dragon shook itself once, causing the air around Rana to hum. He had insisted on coming alone, and was deeply regretting it.
"And, what do *you* want?" The voice seemed to rumble from every corner of the room causing the chill in the air to heighten with each tense word.
Cryodan had slept for centuries beneath the North Pole, having realized during his last outing that actively seeking out treasure was entirely too much of a bother. He was content to lazily pass the time deep in the ice working on his artwork and poetry for the next thousand years or so.
But that was over thanks to some young idiot looking to learn some magic.
The boy smelled appropriately terrified, which was good. The name of Cryodan, Fang of Winter still carried weight amongst humans.
But that of that showed on his face, which was even better. The boy was serious at least.
This was Rana's moment. He had read "Negotiation for Suckers!" by John G Deal and had even attended all the author's seminars to prepare for this.
"We would like to store several of these here." Rana elaborately presented the large server he had brought with him. It had been designed to appear as plain as possible, just a featureless black monolith. It could send both power and data wirelessly, but also put out so much heat everything near it melted into a glistening puddle.
That was in the outside world though. In this cavern that was part of the lair of Cryodan, Question that Freezes? Even ten thousand such severs would run comfortably.
The immense dragon loomed over Rana to sniff the server, letting out a blast of breath that caused alarm beeps in Rana's suit. Rana suddenly realized that he could die just by having a conversations with this creature.
Cryodan looked away from the box with disinterest. His lair possessed thousands of caverns just and large and empty as the one they stood in.
Instead, he looked towards the young man. Did he truly realize how dangerous a game he was playing? Cryodan had heard offers like this before. "Please great dragon, protect this family heirloom until my son comes to claim it!" He always accepted such offers, and then simply continued to kill whatever idiots tried to take anything from his hoard.
"You seem like a nice and expendable young man." He said leaning closer to emphasize 'expendable'. "You are clearly here on behalf of someone else, so I will give you some advice. It is quite easy to add to a dragon's vault, but very, *very* difficult take from it."
"Of course, of course. We would never dare to take anything from you. We shall even add to it! Continuously!"
"This is agreeable to me." The dragon growled, settling back. Rana gasped in relief. The emergency life support system was fully engaged, warning him of frostbite but he barely spared it a glance. As John G Deal said, *Pain is good! Pain means you can still make that sale!*
"E-e-excellent!" Rana stammered. "We are willing to offer a sixth of a dragon's ransom every year!"
A booming noise lasted for a few moments before Rana realized the dragon was laughing.
"You think to trick me, the Icy Trick!" The dragon roared. Rana clutched his head to no avail. The sound reverberated in his ears and mind.
Cryodan called on his instinctive draconic magic. There were many reasons that dragons were very good at collecting treasure. But one of them was their ability to sense *value*. Most dragons sense what was considered valuable, even if they didn't know what it was or what it did. In fact, debating why something was considered valuable by people in general was an enjoyable pastime amongst dragons before humans made everything became about gold.
But something was different now. As soon as he saw this boy, he knew *value* was very different now.
"No..." He rumbled, taking the air. "Money...no...even better...I want *eye fones*..."
When the boy's face broke into a horrified grimace, Cryodan knew he had hit it on the mark. That anguished expression showed this *eye fone*, whatever it was, was something highly valuable that they would not wish to part with!
"No, please, not that..." The boy begged.
"Yes!" The dragon roared again. "I will take eye fones!"
Rana was horrified. If he tried to buy thousands of their competitors iPhones to give this dragon, the board would have his head!
And, how did the dragon even know what iPhones were anyway? And what would it do with them?
He suddenly remembered one of John G Deal's great original quotes: *It is better to ask for forgiveness, than for permission!*
"Yes, we can get you iPhones!" He declared much more confidently than he felt.
"Good..." The dragon whispered. "By the way, what *are* iPhones?"
Cryodan was infinitely fascinated by th eye phone. Once he opened the glass box it came in, he was instantly taken in by the beautiful, intricate designs contained within. Elaborate runs of metal, joined with towers made of a strange material, all combining to form a coherent pattern.
Even as he refocused his eyes so sharply that they could clearly see the pores in the boy's skin, there were even smaller, more intricate designs. It was possibly the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He had no idea how humans made or enjoyed these art objects with their awful vision, but they were right to prize it so highly.
"An absolute marvel!" He declared to the boy who looked on in confusion. No doubt surprised that the dragon did not need to be instructed on how to open the eye phone.
"I believe one of these a year will be a satisfactory deal." | *A time of heat, and light, and fire.*
My brother’s blood, bright and steaming, had gushed in a searing arc across my snout and head as I clamped my teeth tighter and tighter around his neck, at the last. His blood had burned me, had stripped hide and muscle to the bone where it touched me, and had stolen an eye; but oh—oh!—the terrible pain had been sweet, sweet, as I heard his last ragged screech fill the air, *tasted* his failing life even as the burning blood filling my mouth stripped away that sense from me forever, and felt his final desperate thrashings as he raged against the inevitability of his death. He had lost. The burning fires of this world, his at first, would extinguish; the stone, the waters, and the airs would cool, and a beautiful cleansing mantle of ice would wash clean all signs of his presence, supplanting them with signs of my own. A sculpted, frigid, serene world of ice and snow. Destiny fulfilled.
And so it came to pass. Mountainous volcanoes belched their last and went dark. Continent-spanning fires hissed and smoked and burned out. And the searing tempestuous upper airs cooled and stilled and settled apart; some elements remained high above and turned into the frosty winds upon which I soared, serenely, at times, while others fell out of the air entirely, bathing the world first in cool calm waters, and then later in ice. The world changed, from his to mine. An age passed, and then two, and then more. I reveled in the fruits of my labors. Just as my massive icy glaciers encompassed and crushed all his works, so my dominion encompassed and crushed all that had been his with the same great inexorability.
In time I grew content with my works and a heavy tiredness descended upon me, born of the great wounds I had sustained in the killing of my elder sibling. I returned to the place of our last battle and settled on my brother’s bones. I surveyed the world of his which I had turned into my own and knew joy. Sleep took me then, as death had taken him. My wondrous world of ice continued to spin on its path through the ether in this corner of creation. At times I woke and could see naught but ice and snow, white and blue, from my one good eye, and was well satisfied with my work. Other times, I could feel a hot wind blowing past my body, sensed the lingering life heat of my brother’s defeated spirit still burning in the core of this world. *My* world. Like a malevolent parasite, that infernal heat ate away at the progress of my dominion, at times undoing many of my labours, though never undoing all. And though I hated it, despised it, could not abide this last piteous reminder that though it was mine now, this world had first been *his*, my full strength would not return to me, and so I returned to fitful slumber.
*Others* came. Sometimes alone, sometimes in great waves. My brother and I had been the first and the second, but far from the last. With lustful, greedy hearts our younger siblings fell upon my world, seeking to take it from me. Always, I roused and lifted up to wage against them the same terrible, killing war I had waged against my fallen brother. The nest of bones I rested upon grew, but again and again my wretched, thieving siblings came, and though I was never defeated our great struggles across the face of my world unleashed old and terrible powers which crashed down upon my icy works in waves of heat. My dominion was diminished, but always after the thrill of battle and the ecstasy of victory I returned to my nest, to rest and await the next challenger until, finally, there came no more. I returned to my icy hold for a final time, victorious but horribly scarred and bloodied and torn. Much reduced. A great black oblivion took me, and I knew no more.
My deathlike somnolence brought much-needed healing to me, but it also gave time to other things to flourish—little, nasty, *heated* things grew upon my world like tiny flames borne of my long-dead brother’s deathless spite. First thousands, then millions, then billions, and finally countless hordes of the pathetic parasites grew upon my world, taking it for their own. So I culled them, tore them from the land and flung them into the void. Some fought back, sending hopelessly puny fighters to face me, all falling in swift defeat as I froze and broke and rent them, then slaughtered their mates and siblings and parents and offspring back in their wretched breeding hives. But I was not what I once was, and I could never remove them completely. Some of the parasites brought me offerings; shiny metals gifted to my world from the stars, great specimens of elemental minerals and crystals, and life—above all life. They brought their own kind to me, naked and bound, and I sated myself with their life’s blood, and grew closer to being whole, to being as I once was. Ill-content but assured that one day my strength would return in its great and terrible fullness, I slept again.
The parasites changed, they grew, their numbers returned to countless multitudes but always they came and paid for their living upon my domain with their life’s blood. And so I slept, and rested, and healed, and allowed them to live.
I am awoken now, this latest time in a long history of awakenings. My world is hot, hotter than it has been in many ages. As always, the parasites met me with their offerings, and I feasted upon their life’s blood as had become my way. This seemed to dismay them, and they crouched and cowered in shrieking little huddles of misery as I lapped, languidly, at the spilled life of their slaughtered brethren. But they recovered, and brought me more gifts; larger, more beautiful elemental specimens than ever I had been gifted before, and though they brought no more of their own kind to lay down in sacrifice before me, I was nevertheless appeased. But they brought still more things—offerings, I knew, but small and black and queer thrumming things which had never been offered to me before. Not elementals, not beautiful crystals or metals from the stars—though they were complex and contained all these things, I could tell—not moving, or mating, or fighting, or living, though they hummed with one of the great cosmic forces of creation. I allowed them their odd little offerings, and soon thought nothing of them, and rested anew.
Or, at least, I sought to.
Sleep did not come quickly, and though it approached, stepped up to the limits of my mind and beckoned, it did not take me this time. It was interrupted. By a great heat.
*Hated heat, reviled heat, miserable memory of my brother and of a long-gone time when his influence had been primal upon my world! Heat. It was near. It had been building.*
I opened my eye and could see its source, more of the queer little black complicated humming offerings. *Heat*. It came from them in growing waves, washing over me, bathing me in the hateful influence of my brother’s power. A terrible, cold malice built within me. I arose, and was caught briefly—*chained! Chained to my own world*! Those pale, parasitic little pulses of life had dared to treat me—*me*!—as something *lesser*! The coldness within me ran strong, coursed along every ancient bone, every artery, every nerve and coalesced in my heart, coalesced into the awful gelid force of my cosmic power, now and at long last restored to its full. I screamed, and unleashed it.
Ancient, unbridled, I screamed my rage and my power erupted from me, flowing out in freezing, arcing white blasts. The bones of my enemies, the continent I stood upon, the parasites’ offerings, their breeding hives, all were blasted, frozen and destroyed.
I rise and soar and survey my world now, returning to my work, blasting the hateful heated remaining parasites from it—though they flee and hide I follow, always, and root them out. They freeze and shatter and die in their millions and billions and each and every death brings me a little closer to fulfillment. This world is mine, once again. The time of my dominion is returned.
*A time of ice.* | 2020-11-28T09:15:04 | 2020-11-28T09:00:11 | 52 | 15 |
[WP] Every ten years, you must go in front of a board of peers who will evaluate your life for you. If you do not "Impress your peers" you will be executed. | I shuffled awkwardly into the room. I was never good at these, I always felt like I had just barely gotten by. This time would be different. I smiled as I continued to move, slowly, into the old dusty room. Each year a new room was built for that group of peers. Decorated with memorabilia that hadn't changed decade after decade. Pictures drawn by crayon of our 10 year old selves, empty bottles of our favorite drinks from when we were 20. The room reminded me of the great life I had, growing up with the peers in my town. I had made it by, through all the years. I shuffled into the judgement stand, a wooden box with an old stool. The first time I'd sat on it, I was 10, and my feet couldn't reach the ground. I looked up and around, the numbers had thinned.
"So many have come and gone.." I said out loud to no one in particular.
A woman came into the room, walking up behind me and rubbing up and down my crooked back. She did it in a sad, downcast manner.
"There's no one to judge you today Mr. Jones, you're one hundred and twenty, no one else from your group is alive."
I nodded and frowned. The room was completely empty, unused for years. I slowly stood up, grabbing onto my walker and leaving the old room with the assistance of the nurse. | Nearly nobody made eye contact, and nearly nobody listened. When it came time to vote everyone hit the button that read "I am impressed!" in big, friendly letters. Everyone except for one that is. As the numbers on the board lit up and the realization dawned in the eyes of the 'tribune' there was only fear.
They had all been dreading that this might happen, they had heard the stories, after all. Every so often one person would say no, and the nightmare would ensue.
"I voted 'no.'" Came a calm, feminine voice from the side of the room near the windows.
But nobody looked in the direction of the voice, people had learned a long time ago that these trials were nothing more than a way to keep people under control. But the knowledge of their predicament gave no solution to the trouble.
The real result was that you had to stop looking at what your neighbor was doing, you had to pretend they didn't exist, except for polite conversation. After all, what if someone did something stupid, made a mistake, not that they took risks anymore anyway, everyone just worked in the job they inherited.
You were, of course, allowed to move up the ladder, but with that came risk. If you took a risk and failed, then people could find out. If it was proven that you knew someone failed and lied in the tribune the men would show up at your door. The men of course averting their gaze themselves.
It was, really, a stroke of genius of the long dead organizers of the country. They had created a system whereby all were afraid to examine each other and were therefore all alone, desperately making sure to make no mistakes.
"We are bound by law to argue the case now." The calm voice spoke up again. "Allow me to begin..."
The woman stood, and some, through their periphery saw something rare, and unknown to many. Confidence.
"My name is Carrie, and I am not impressed. You see, I've found a secret. What is, really, a hole in the society in which we live." People began to look near her. Not at her, mind you, only at the point just above, or just below.
"We all live in fear of being killed for objectively failing. After all if we can't be proven to have not improved no one has to die. So, I'm going to change the equation right here in front of all of you today." Carrie looked directly into the camera that was broadcasting the proceedings of that day to all of the constantly on televisions throughout the world.
Miles and miles away from all of this were those in charge. These men had not made the decision to implement this system, that had been done a few hundred years before, and they were victims of it as much as anyone else. Perhaps in a different society, one which possessed initiative, these men would have turned off the feed. But these men could do nothing but keep looking just over this woman's shoulder.
Slowly people turned from their monotonously terrifying lives to look at the screen and listen to the first truly calm voice that they had ever heard. She spoke to the world now.
"I am not impressed with this man standing before us today. Because he did not rebel against the system. This system which has been so perfectly constructed that it survives without a single will which wishes for its continuation."
"I am not impressed with anyone in this room today, or in their homes, because they have not rebelled, they have not acted to improve the world."
It came as a fearful realization to each and every person watching this, a number which grew enormously each second, that they would be guilty as well. Once their time came up. In fact, if they didn't act now it would be over. The men would be at their door. The tension was building.
Carrie remained silent for the next three minutes with the number of people watching the proceedings growing until nearly every person watched. The tension was mounting and she was waiting for her moment.
"I. AM. NOT. IMPRESSED!" She shouted and the damn broke loose. All the emotion that had been bottled in mankind for their whole lives dominated by a system whose rules could, they thought, not be circumvented burst free in a tidal wave throughout the world.
The revolution had begun.
| 2014-06-15T10:33:30 | 2014-06-15T10:32:33 | 134 | 88 |
[WP] Every ten years, you must go in front of a board of peers who will evaluate your life for you. If you do not "Impress your peers" you will be executed. | “Now seeing Mr. Philip Johnson. Please step forward, Mr. Johnson.”
Phil stood up, his hands clasped together. He was shaking.
This was Phil’s third life evaluation. They came every ten years, on the day following one’s birthday. It was June 24, and Phil had just turned thirty years of age the day before. Each and every year a letter came in the mail reminding him of the date, which Phil found to be rather tedious. He couldn’t forget it if he tried.
Row after row of people sat waiting on hard wooden benches. The room itself was overwhelming; the ceiling rose higher than any Phil had seen before, stone lion carvings hung on the sides of each window, and the eleven evaluators sat elevated among the judged.
“Welcome back, Mr. Johnson. Please, won’t you step a bit closer so we can get a good look at you?” The man chuckled.
Phil approached the red line. “Hi,” he said, giving a slight bow.
“Now, lets get right into it, shall we?” The man in the centre spoke while those on both sides took notes on their computers. “Why don’t you start by telling us about, well, life since you were last here, Mr. Johnson.”
“Uhm, yeah, okay.” Phil’s voice shook as he spoke. “Well, lets see. My twenty-first year started, well, poorly, when my girlfriend of three years left me–”
“Ah, yes,” the man said, typing. “One Stephanie Gregsson. And was there any particular reason for this departure?”
“No, it was pretty mutual, I think.” Phil looked up to watching eyes. “Well, I mean, she was the one who actually left and all but it was pretty mutual.”
“Yes, right, well, please go on.”
“Right, okay. So that was pretty bad for a while. I was pretty down for, I dunno, four or five years. Didn’t do a whole lot. It wasn’t great.” Phil’s hand rubbed his already-greying chin stubble. “During that time I was going to school, completed my undergrad degree and then went for my masters –”
“In?”
“Oh, uh, poetry, actually. South American poetry, specifically.”
“Mhm, and are you working right now, Mr. Johnson?”
“Right now? Oh yeah I’m working right now. An office job.”
“And how do you enjoy this office job?”
“It is what it is, you know. Gets the bills paid.” Phil laughed, alone. “But yeah it’s okay.”
“Hm. Lets switch gears a bit here. Why don’t you tell us more about your love life since Ms. Gregsson.” said the man, waving his hand so as to hurry Phil along.
“Oh, yeah, for sure.” Sweat dripped from Phil’s eyebrows. He wiped it using the sleeve of his white dress shirt. “I went on, I dunno, like six or seven dates since Steph left –”
“Six or seven since she left you in total?”
“Yes, that’s correct.” The ten other jury members had been writing what seemed to be Phil’s every word, stutter, and movement, as the sound of typing never ceased.
“And are you currently involved in a relationship of any sort?”
“Well, no. Not currently, anyway.”
“Oh, so there was someone though?”
“Well, no.”
“Hm.” The speaker joined the others in typing.
Phil’s shirt became see-through, clasping to his body as if it were a part of him.
“Look, Mr. Johnson, lets just cut to it.”
“Okay.”
“Why or why not do you believe that your life has been one of merit, one that has contributed to the world in which it occupies?”
Phil looked around the room, scratching at the splotchy hair he considered a beard.
“Well, for one thing I’ve loved and been loved. I mean the human condition revolves around love; we couldn’t truly know life without it, don’t you think?” The evaluators exchanged glances. “Even when I was depressed I had hope; not in success or riches, but hope that someday I could love again. It’s the human race’s best, and at times worst characteristic, but in the end I think it’s what makes us human.”
The typing stopped. One of the evaluators whispered into the speaker’s ear. “Yeah, no. We’re gonna need a bit more than that. Anything else?”
“Well, my Reddit account has like 6,000 comment karma.”
The evaluators all exchanged whispers, their heads turning from one to the other as they discussed Phil’s fate. After a short while the speaker struck his gavel twice. “Alright everyone. Settle down, settle down.” He looked down upon Phil. “Alright, Mr. Johnson. You’re free to go. Your next appointment is ten years from today. Good luck.”
As Phil exited the auditorium, tired eyes all around watching him, he smiled. He opened the large wooden doors into the outside world. The air seemed fresher, the sky bluer, the world lighter. No longer did his “pointless internet points” seem so pointless. | "I'm fucked." My mind was racing as I walked down the narrow brown corridor. I was muttering to myself like a lunatic. "I'm so fucked. I'm so fucking fucked." I turned the words over in my mind again: "Subjects must demonstrate that they have actively worked to better themselves on a personal level, to further the interests of the Republic, and to contribute to the advancement of scientific and technical knowledge."
Today was my 30th birthday, and it would be my first real Comprehensive Evaluation. I'd been through the whole process before, of course, but this would be the first time there was any real danger of failing. The 10 year Evaluations were merely a formality for full-blooded Citizens, and were mainly used as population control for undesirables in low income areas. It was hard to fail the 20 year Evaluation unless you were a complete fuck-up. High school drop outs, meth addicts, teen moms. As long as you managed to stay out of jail and had any kind of plan for your future, however vague, it was all but a sure thing.
The 30 year Evaluation, though; that was something else entirely. By this point in my life I was expected to have to have at least begun to carve out some corner of the world for myself, to have some accomplishments of note. I hadn't managed anything of the sort. I'd been through high school, I'd been through university, I'd gotten a shitty job in an office that I couldn't care less about, and, well…what the fuck was I supposed to do next?
My life up until 23 years old had been a series of carefully laid out steps. One foot in front of the other, don't stray from the path, don't get distracted, be a good boy. I'd gotten good at it. I was comfortable with it. Now that I was out on my own, words like "study", "homework", and "test" had been replaced with "diligence", "networking", and "synergy". I was lost. Nobody told me what to do anymore. I was just supposed to know, and everyone else seemed to be in on some secret that I couldn't figure out. At first I had wanted to be a good boy, wanted to contribute, wanted to do something "important", but I had no idea how, and nobody seemed to want to tell me. By now I had become numb. Disappointed by my failure to amount to anything, and convinced that I was defective, missing some basic component that allowed me to function as a productive member of society.
From my hard plastic chair in the waiting room, I heard a disembodied voice call Richard Planck into the office, just out of sight around a corner. Richard and I were the only two sitting in the waiting room, with an empty receptionist's desk across the room behind a thick sheet of plexiglass. Richard stood up and walked toward the office with a confident swagger. "What the fuck is he so cocky about?", I thought to myself with a feeling of injustice, quickly replaced by a rising swell of dread when I realized that I would be next.
I could hear muted voices coming from the office and began, unconsciously at first, to crane my head toward the corridor. I cautiously glanced at the empty receptionist's desk. The evaluations were supposed to be confidential, and attempting to eavesdrop was treated as an automatic failure. "Fuck it", I thought, "I'm probably going to the chambers either way. May as well try to get whatever advantage I can."
I was shaking as I made my way over to the corridor and inched my ear toward the edge. Absently, I wondered if whoever was supposed to be at that desk would be killed for taking a long lunch.
"…how you have contributed to the betterment of the Republic in the past decade of your life." The reviewer sounded bored and disinterested as he read the question to Richard. "Certainly." replied Richard. "I've worked hard to ensure the financial stability of the Republic over the past ten years. In my work at office 37B I've overseen the deployment of numerous successful spending programs in the interest of security and tech development."
I knew Rich. We worked at the same office. I knew Rich, and I knew that he was completely full of shit. "Ensure the financial stability of the republic"? He was a god damned junior accountant. He didn't even work full time. He'd almost been fired last year for using the office expense account to pay for his own private island getaway. Since one of the office managers owed Rich's father a favor, they had kept him on, but made him personally put on a series of seminars on employee abuse of expense accounts. The whole office had to sit through them, and we were all pissed at Rich. Rich was the office fuck-up.
The reviewer went on: "How have you distinguished yourself from your peers in demonstrating your commitment to the best interests of the Republic?" Rich cleared his throat noisily. "Just last year I personally oversaw the development of a monitoring and education program designed to curb employee abuse of government expense accounts for personal gain."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Were they really buying this shit? How was Rich so calm? Weren't they going to look into his claims and find out how exaggerated they were? As the Evaluation trudged on, the apathetic tone of the reviewer told me that they weren't. I stood there, brow viciously furrowed, mouth agape, incredulous at how utterly dumb this whole exercise was. For all the pomp of the Republic about the effectiveness of their citizen accountability program, for all the horror stories about what happened to you when you failed, this is what it came down to. A tired bureaucrat in a dank office listening to an underachieving rich kid bullshit about his pointless job.
Up to that point in my life I had seen the Central Republican Authority as a well oiled machine driven toward a purpose with terrifying focus. With the truth now laid bare in front of me I felt a strange mix of relief and outrage. Was everyone this full of shit? Did nobody know what they were doing? Was anyone even at the reins of this beast? Maybe the whole notion of the Citizen of the Republic, determined and motivated, skilfully working toward the betterment of the world was just a myth, built from the Republic's collective dreams and insecurities. Maybe it was a PR campaign to keep everyone from questioning the CRA too much. Maybe everyone else was just as terrified and clueless as I was.
I started to walk back to my seat and heard the reviewer mutter "…passed your Evaluation. See you in ten years Mr. Planck." The smirk on Rich's face as he passed through the waiting room and nodded to me was almost obscene. Was that really it? All I had to do was go in there and bullshit my way out of the chambers? I had spent the past year obsessing over how I could make some kind of significant contribution to the world when all I really had to do was convince some dimwitted jerk that I had already done it. Was that really all there was to success? All there was to life?
One thing was for sure: if Rich fucking Planck passed his evaluation with flying colors, there was no way in hell I was going to let them drag me away. The reviewer called my name and for the first time in what felt like years I stood up and walked with purpose and a singular focus. "Hello", said the reviewer blandly, looking up from his desk as I entered the office. I looked back at him with a newfound confidence. I waited until he lowered his eyes back to his stacks of papers before taking my seat. Maybe I had no idea what I was doing, but at least I was trying, and wherever I was going I was sure as shit not going to let the Rich Plancks of the world take my place in line.
| 2014-06-15T14:22:57 | 2014-06-15T14:09:08 | 55 | 22 |
[WP] Surprisingly, it turns out humans are one of the least violent sentient species in the galaxy. Describe a session at the galactic equivalent of the UN. | Senator Mazzotti watched the council proceedings with practiced indifference. The human delegation had been placed between the Centauri and Ardite delegations, near the back of the room with the other “weaker” races. At the front of the great ante chamber the Speaker was currently engaged in a fist fight with one of the large reptilian races’ representatives over trade disputes or something silly like that. He boredly looked down at his tablet.
“How’s council?” A message flashed across the screen.
“Typical.” He responded, his tapping at his keyboard drowned out by a deafening war cry and a loud crash as the Speaker was thrown through his stand.
“Any jobs that need doing?” A smile pulled at his mouth, even a monotonous conversation like this was better than being bored to death by the larger species beating their chests into pulp.
“Not yet, I’ll keep you posted.”
Mazzotti glanced over to the Ardites, a particularly squishy species even compared to humans, they were a plant species whose bodies were a central bulb with four vine-like limbs. Physically weak and not particularly tough, the Ardites had nonetheless been a long-standing ally of humanity, and humanity looked after its allies.
Today the Ardites were preparing to propose new protection for several thousand endangered species, something that never seemed to be a popular vote and often drew violence. Even as a bulb, it was clear that the ambassador was nervous. Mazzotti silently slid past his assistants to the ambassador and patted him on either the shoulder or hip, to be honest the human wasn’t sure.
“Just remember what we talked about, if anyone causes a ruckus back down,” He whispered as the Speaker slammed flagpole over the reptillian ambassador’s head. “I’ll make sure the motion carries.”
“Yes,” even through a voice synthesizer the worry in the Ardite’s speech was evident. “I’ll make sure to remember.”
Mazzotti nodded and patted the Ardite on the shoulder, taking care to look down and stare the Speaker in the eyes as he skewered the reptillian through one of its many redundant organs, causing it to stumble back to it’s seat in shame, the laughter of its fellows following it.
The Speaker dusted itself off and asked if anyone else had a proposition, at which point the Ardite sulked forwards to the front of the room. Mazzotti took his seat after flashing the ambassador a thumbs up of encouragement.
“The Ardite are concerned over the illegal hunting and poaching of a number of endangered species,” its synthesized voice carried over the room, the volume increasing as a chorus of laughs erupted from the lower rows. “We would propose a new protective act for these species.”
The laughs quieted into snickers as the Speaker rose and approached the shivering Ardite.
“What do you think gives you the right to protect them, weakling?” It demanded, drawing a blade and slicing the main bulb. The Ardite let out a pained noise and scurried back up the stairs to its seat, raucous laughter echoing through the room.
Mazzotti leaned in to one of his assistants. “Kubrick, see to the Ardite ambassador, would you?” The aide nodded and stood, patting the Ardite comfortingly on the shoulder and guiding him back to his fellows.
The speaker looked out at the crowd threateningly, its booming voice carrying to the back of the chamber without any assistance. “Would anyone care to… heh, second the Ardite’s request?”
Mazzotti calmly stood, clearing his throat. “Motion seconded.”
The Speaker’s face hardened in annoyance, it was the little things that brought Mazzotti joy in these sittings. Now they would have to sit through a voting session, which Mazzotti had made sure would end in the act being passed. He cherished the look of rage that the Speaker shot in his direction, which would be the last time it would happen. He returned to his tablet.
“I have a job for you. $100,000 transferred to the usual account.” He wrote, the response came immediately.
“Name, time and place.”
The proud warriors of the galaxy could beat their chests and roar as much as they liked, but assaulting an ally of humanity’s? That was uncalled for.
Humanity took care of their allies. | The standard intergalactic verbal language word used for our species literally translates to "*Perfect balance*".
The first sentient species we came in contact with was much more peaceful than us, and much more underdeveloped. They had philosophers who would talk about a written language every now and then, but why work on it when everyone could provide for themselves already? They all pulled their own weight on farms with small cities where they traded food and debated music and life. This was used as evidence for the case of wars which we had stopped only ten years prior. The "conflict necessitates development" style of theories now had evidence, we later found out it was more of a balance that was necessary.
Then a year later we stumbled upon the majority (to the best of our knowledge) of sentient species. We may have just discovered FTL travel but none of them had anything better than halfway there. This put them roughly two centuries behind us, until we learned from their history that their species typically started 4000 years before ours.
The real shocker was that they were constantly warring, none had known any substantial period in history of peace. That was when we figured it out, war necessitates development in addition to hindering it. We had seemed to strike a perfect balance between war and peace causing us to have both the time to develop and the motivation to do so.
The first conflict was when we gained our first ounce of respect. After seeing how we had no claws, horns, fangs, or anything to advantage us in melee combat most species assumed we were some kind of hippie race that came unarmed and somehow developed without war. A couple species thought a competition of sorts where the objective was to takeover one of our smaller ships would be good sport and make for a nice battlefield between these rival species. At first our ambassadors in the intergalactic counsel laughed at their tactics and strategies thinking it was a joke to haze the new species until they heard that all sides had casualty counts. They thought we must have messed up in diplomacy.
They didn't have ranged weapons. These species were traveling up to half the speed of light and didn't have ranged weapons. Their skin was so thick that bullets only pissed them off so they never started developing them. They didn't develop railguns, phasers, laser rifles, or plasma cannons. The first ship from two species docked before we realized they were boarding us. They came out of the dock swinging at our ambassadors killing four humans. Our guards began mowing them down with our advanced weapons and were unharmed due to our armor. Since we realized they were attacking we started shooting down their boarding ships, we started with lasers (lowest operating cost) and experimented up to our plasma cannons to see what the minimum cost was to take down their ships. We found that they only armor certain areas for ramming and boarding necessities and even our lasers were effective.
That battle may have gone differently if they had worn their armor. Between skin evolved to counter melee fighting similar to an mma for the toughest animals on earth and advanced armor our small arms would only be able to incapacitate them with casualties from some heavier weapons and lucky shots. They brought armor but didn't plan to wear it until they encountered other attacking species. Expecting a melee we were thought of as sport and wearing armor for small game isn't only thought of as un-sportsman like in their culture, it's shameful because who needs armor for game that poses no threat to them? Our trick from this point on was to minimize combat with small arms and stick to cyber and space warfare. We rearmed those with the possibility of combat to have heavier hitting weapons so that they would still be effective though.
The kicker was that when we hacked their networks it was so easy that the head of our cyber-warfare thought an intern set up a simulation drill to play a prank on the whole department. "Do you really think we were gonna fall for these spacefaring romans not even having encryption!? This is not the time or place for this shit! We were just attacked!" They hadn't made defenses past a simple password and username for a server. This was not like our easy to hack password and username systems though, all the exploits that had been thought of to get around this were unprotected. They didn't have the defenses because none thought to look for another way into each other's systems. The good thing was that the department played along and cut communication with other planets, we now knew what many species were saying about us and downloaded googlebytes of history and current events from the galaxy. Realizing what was going on we knew we couldn't remain a part of the intergalactic community much longer.
Leaving the community was done to protect the intergalactic community from themselves. Not to protect ourselves or protect them from us but to keep them from killing each other off. There were a few incidents where a species was wiped out but none had thought past melee and roman style navy tactics applied to spacecraft. They had all the means necessary to produce nuclear bombs, make ranged weapons, planetary kinetic cannons, and even warp each other to unknown dimensions (even though they didn't know how to use this on a controlled scale for FTL travel yet) but had never thought to use it for war. They were so ingrained in melee combat that these ideas were only applied in ways to have more melee combat. By isolating these planets and hacking nearby planets we found that video of the battle was contained. We sent back the docked ships with planetary warp bombs, they were unable to send ships to ram these returning ships compliments of our cyber-warfare. With these we warped the planets and entirety of the attacking species into another dimension.
We didn't want to warp them. The order even caused a small uprising as it violated the latest geneva convention from the last year we had war, a mere eleven years prior. It was determined the safest way to prevent other species from learning from us. We had to leave them because we were afraid that they might gain knowledge from us, this was a huge moral dilemma in itself. We had feared for centuries that first contact had not been made because we were not civilized enough to handle technology, and we didn't think to question our timing when we had the same situation from the alien's side. The philosophical debates ate it all up; should we be restricting knowledge when we had preached the spread of knowledge to all willing to learn be necessary for so long? Were we really in a high enough moral standing to consider ourselves qualified to make this decision? We just made the decision to send two species to alternate dimensions to keep them from being educated in less than two minutes and with enough disagreement to spark a short uprising. We had only stopped warring ourselves eleven years ago and almost reset that war statistic. Did we take technology too far? With our technological advances we could play the part of demigods to these aliens and with that realization we realized that it was necessary to keep knowledge ahead of their time from them. We also realized that the best way to keep them from knowing might be to convince them that we were demigods, it would explain our capabilities without giving away how we do our tricks.
| 2015-03-23T09:44:26 | 2015-03-23T09:07:28 | 46 | 28 |
[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. | There were 100.000 people in *New Haven*, give or take. Everyone alive was born and raised here. The last ones that still remembered the world outside had died some 30 years ago. Everyone who had entered the city 100 years ago had agreed to be part of a unique scientific experiment: Total isolation for 100 years. They all knew they would die here eventually and only their children (or their grandchildren) could go outside again, for the city was build underground.
Everything was here. Infrastructure, luxury, hotels, entertainment, even prostitutes and drugs! A government was set up and after an initial period the people grwe accustomed to their new life. People were born, people died. The children were told from early on about their part in the experiment, there was no secrecy about it.
The people of New Haven were to be contacted by the outside world after the set limit of 100 years had passed. Except for the fact that nobody did. Then they started sending messages but those were not answered. This raised more than a few eyebrows; especially the people in charge were confused to say the least. But there was no huge uproar. People liked living the way they were. And they just continued to do so. Man is a creature of habit, right?
Days passed, weeks. After a month it was decided that a squad of 5 was to be deployed to the surface. The task: investigate and establish contact. After a few days they came back. The formerly enthusiastic were broken now. They had seen the unspeakable. From the information they had gathered, scientists reconstructed what had happened. After 23 years of our isolation, a virus caused a worldwide epidemic. It was deadly for 99.5% of mankind, death came in a matter of days. The ones who survived lost their ability to reproduce, they got sterile. Over the course of only one generation, mankind-as we knew it-ceased to exist.
After three more days, the five brave to enter the surface were removed by death. Apparently, the virus could survive outside the human body for a prolonged time. Mankind would be trapped under earths surface for a lot longer than merely 100 years.
| It's drizzling. I take a whiff of the city air. I can smell the freshness that comes with the artificial rain, mixed with the enticing odours of street food. There's stands all over, selling not only edibles but a variety of party gear. Tonight, everyone is out on the streets, celebrating.
I look up at the dome. The familiar big, red numbers counting down are in the final ten seconds of their run. I shout along:
"Three! Two! One!"
The crowd roars with excitement as the countdown reaches zero. Fireworks go off, little paper explosions pop all around. We all cheer as the wondrous barrier that sealed us off from the world fades away, revealing the ellusive night "sky".
Me and my friends, we are in our mid-twenties. We were born inside the dome. We know, of course, what the sky looks like - but we'd never really seen it until now. It's pitch black, softly illuminated by the glow of the city lights. I am not at all disappointed: simply knowing that I am staring down the vastness of our cosmos is enough to set my mind into overdrive.
I grab the car-keys in my pocket. I rush to where I parked - right near the edge of the city limits, in a secluded, forgotten little road. I'm going to miss the welcoming, but I don't care. I've lived my entire life in a cage. I'm finally free.
I drive. It's dark and there are no lights, but I can feel the fresh air coming through the rolled-down windows. *Actual* fresh air. Not some recycled oxygen coming through a vent. The trees are my vents now.
There should be a small town about 20 minutes down the road. I'm going to go there, rush into a cafe and talk to the first person I see. I have so many questions. They'll be excited to see me as well, I bet.
I turn on my radio. What does the outside sound like? Static. I try seeking. I catch something - but it must be distorted. It sounds like a rock song trying to find itself out of some heavy and violent electronic noise. Hey, maybe radio's changed in the past century. I turn it off.
I thoroughly enjoy the rest of the trip. There are no other cars in the road. I start feeling a little lonely, but the excitement keeps me from feeling down.
There's a car motor in the distance. *A person from the outside*, I think to myself. *A person from the real world.*
Suddenly, something hits my car from the side. It overturns and rolls out of the road. I shuffle violently on the inside, hitting my head all over the place. *This is it*, I think to myself. *This is how I die. Just before the most brilliant moment of my life, I will be snuffed out by a reckless driver.*
But I'm very much alive. I think I've broken an arm, though. I crawl out of my totaled vehicle. There are two bright lights shining on me from up high. God, are cars really this tall now? I turn to them and shout:
"Hey mate. Are you all right?"
The only response is some loud engine roaring. I put my hand over my head and squint. I think I can hear some people laughing.
I can now make out the shape of the vehicle. It looks like a monster truck - a jeep frame perched on gigantic, tracked tires. There's a structure coming out at its top. It looks like a metal frame... some sort of crane. And its carrying a big chunk of something on the side.
I realize that the big chunk is coming at me just a little too late. A heavy piece of rusted metal hurls itself weightily on my injured frame. I can feel my body being controrted and broken before I violently hit the ground on my back, my vision blurry and my head spinning wildly.
Some figures gather around me. I look up at them as best I can.
They are a group of young people. They have wild hair, some shaved, some spiked, all colourful. They wear leather rags that are patched up all over. As they gather closer I notice that many of them are disfigured, either having distorted faces, missing limbs or jarringly misplaced joints.
One of them leans down and I can see his face clearly. It looks like it's been pierced wherever possible with jewelry as well as some actual nails. One nail, in fact, is pierced right through his eye. It moves with his gaze.
"Heeeey!" he shrieks in a high-pitched voice. "Heeeeeeey!"
He turns to the others. "This little piggie thought he'd be getting away, man!"
He turns back to me with an expression I can only describe as manic. "Too bad for you, little piggie!" He steps down on my arm with metal boot heels.
"Welcome to the real world." | 2015-11-04T14:59:22 | 2015-11-04T14:49:54 | 152 | 26 |
[WP] A serial killer is on the loose that kills his victims by poisoning muffins. They call him... The Muffin Man | The muffin man is seated at the table
In the laboratory of the utility muffin Research kitchen.
Reaching for an oversized chrome spoon,
He gathers an Intimate quantity of dried muffin remnants and, brushing his scapular aside,
Proceeds to dump these inside of his shirt...
He turns to us and speaks:
"Some people like cupcakes better.
I for one care less for them!"
Arrogantly twisting the sterile canvas
Snoot of a fully charged icing anointment utensil,
He 'poot's forths a quarter-ounce green rosette,
- oh ah yuk, yuk... let's try that again...! -
He 'poots' forth a quarter-ounce green rosette
Near the summit of a dense,
But radiant muffin of his own design.
Later he says:
"Some people... some people like cupcakes
Exclusively, while myself, I say,
There is naught nor ought there be nothing
So exalted on the face of god's grey
Earth as that prince of foods... the muffin!"
Girl you thought he was a man,
But he was a muffin,
He hung around till you found,
That he didn't know nuthin',
Girl you thought he was a man,
But he only was a-puffin',
No cries is heard in the night,
As a result of him stuffin',
Bruce Fowler on trombone,
Napoleon Murphy brock on tenor sax and lead vocals,
Terry Bozzio on drums,
Tom Fowler on bass,
Denny Walley on slide,
George Duke on keyboards,
Captain Beefheart on vocals and soprano sax and madness.
Thank you very much for coming to the concert tonight. Hope you enjoyed it. goodnight
Austin, texas, where ever you are.
- Credits to "The muffin man" by Frank Zappa - not entirely according OP's request by close enough ;-) (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qwIrXOtZyvQ) | "Order, order I say!"
The crowd gradually ceased its raucousness, their shouts fading into soft whispers.
"The 131st Annual Serial Killers Convention will come to order. I am Gerald Wilkins, though most of you know me as 'El Stabby Diablo.'" Murmurs of approval resonated from the audience, including a "Go Stabby!" call from the back. "Yes, thank you. I actually just finished off my 7th victim this afternoon, and boy, was he a screamer..."
"Um, excuse me?" a voice cut through. "Yes?" replied Gerald, glaring at the source of the interruption. A short, heavyset man with sagging jowls and receding red hair stood up with a nervous twitch. "Sorry. I thought this was the 'Aspiring Screenwriters Workshop,'" he said meekly.
"Oh, no, that's two doors down, Room 408," replied Gerald. "Ah, okay then. Sorry for the bother!" the man said as he quickly shuffled toward the door. "Hope your um, meeting goes well!"
"Pfft. Screenwriter. 'Oh look, I type things for a living. I'm a real important typing-type person!'" Gerald said mockingly after the man was out of earshot. Hoots of derision fell from the audience. "Now, if we can continue. Our first order of business is an unfortunate one." The crowd grew hushed.
"I'm sure all of you are *well* familiar Opie Carlyle, who has gone by the moniker 'The Muffin Man.'" The audience groaned loudly in unison. "Yes, indeed. He was arrested last week after being caught force-feeding blueberry scones to one of his victims. Now, Opie is a prime example of what *not* to do as a serial killer. I feel that we, as a community, need to go over his mistakes so that we do not fall into similar traps. Agreed?"
Loud murmurs of assent came from the group. "Good. Now, who can tell me the biggest mistake that Opie made?"
An abnormally long and withered arm shot up. "Yes, go ahead," said Gerald. "Hello everyone! I am Mildred Boont, but you probably know me as 'The Garroting Granny,'" she chuckled softly. A splattering of applause erupted. "You got my neighbor's maid!" a voice shouted jovially from the back, "I was going to decapitate her on Valentine's Day, but lo and behold, she turned up strangled last week!"
"Oh my, I do apologize. We really should work on coordinating our jobs," said Mildred. "Anyway, to the point at hand. Opie was *always* leaving muffin crumbs both to and from his victims' houses. I warned the boy! But he had some odd childhood fascination with Hansel & Gretel..."
"Yes, very good," said Gerald. "Direct and incriminating evidence linking him directly to his crimes. Anyone else?"
Gerald nodded at a beach ball of a man, sunburnt to a violet crisp, who was waiving both of his pudgy hands in the air. "Hello," he droned. "I am Wilbur Wexler, but I'm sure you better know me as 'The Gainsborough Glutton'. I used to buy snacks from Opie every now and then. Donuts, scones, and muffins, of course. Every time I would visit his house, he would answer the door shouting: 'I am the Muffin Man! My dead and murdered victims lie naked in my basement, stomach and intestines bursting with my treats!' Very uncouth, I always thought."
"Yes, thank you, Wilbur. Loud and indiscriminate announcement of guilt. Also a big no-no. I'm still looking for the smoking gun, though. Can anyone tell me what Opie's most glaring error was?"
The audience stayed silent, though one could feel the collective ruminations circulating throughout. Finally a small, well-manicured hand rose slowly from the center of the room. "Yes, go ahead," offered Gerald.
A man stood up and glanced warily at the crowd around him. He was slender, but well proportioned, with heavy brown eyes and slicked black hair. He was dressed smartly in a fitted suit with a lapis lazuli colored tie. "I am Robert Kilman," he began, "and I beg my esteemed colleagues' pardon, as I am only a fledgling apprentice in this auspicious trade, without even a proper moniker yet..."
The audience continued meeting his gaze, without word.
"...but it appears to my humble eyes, that the primary miscalculation by our dear, incarcerated associate is..."
"...he has a fucking muffin for a head." | 2016-04-27T10:30:27 | 2016-04-27T09:52:34 | 21 | 11 |
[WP] Every person has a button they can press at night that deposits a large sum of money to their bank account. However, the first person to press it each night is horrifically killed. | *Are you ready to head out boys?* Jason yells from the living room.
We take out buttons with us, as always, just to be safe. Things used to be much more difficult before The Button was introduced. Since the first night, we haven't failed to go without a payday yet. We're working on our 56th night tonight.
*Alright let's go!* Jason impatiently yells at me.
I've been having second thoughts about getting some new friends recently. Jason and the boys have become so misguided and arrogant since The Button has been paying out.
It's Monday so we do what we always do on Mondays. We pick a nice retirement home the next town over and make our plan. Tonight's innocent victim is an elderly man sound asleep with MSNBC still flickering on his tv.
*We're going to be fast and rich again tonight boys!* Jason yells to us in an attempt to excite us. It works for most of the guys.
*Who wants to do the honors?* he asked.
Nobody steps forward because after all, we are taking another persons life.
*Why don't you do it tonight? You've been down for a while. This will pick you up.* Jason says as he points at me.
I've been selected and the guys are already pushing me forward before I can decline.
I go forward with the plan as intended. I sneak in to the room and give a thumbs up to the boys in the window to signal I've made it in.
I walk over to this man's button. I look at it, look at him. Look at it, look at him.
I go back to the window and signal to the guys.
A scream of terror echoes from the outside of the retirement home.
*Jason always liked to be the first to push his button after a job.*
Tomorrow I find new friends. | Whiskey bottle in hand, I staggered over to my laptop set up--the recording equipment top of the line camera, and practically collapse in the chair. So comfortable, I almost fall asleep right there. Almost. I open up LiveYou, and click the record button.
"So, I'm finally doing this live stream I've always talked about. Didn't know what it would be about...but I finally do. I wanna, talk about the Buttons. You all know the ones I'm talking about."
I gestured to the button embedded into the wall, having specifically arranged for it to be in easy view of the camera. A quick glance at the bottom of the viewer count read out 6.
"So then, you all probably know about the crackpot theories. The conspiracy theorists called it 'population control.' That somewhere in the shady back rooms of our governments, they all unanimously agreed that the world's population, some 7 billion and counting, wasn't sustainable in the long term, not if they wanted to keep the balance of power to prevent societal collapse. So they banked on human greed--our need to fulfill our baser desires winning out over decency."
13 viewers, another glance told me.
"And they where right."
42 now.
"Now, it wasn't noticeable at first, nothing but a rumor that the 'security' buttons installed in every home across the globe would make you rich. Then some one tested it out--John Demamp--got over 2 million in his bank accounts. Even today you can see his Twitter and Facebook posts about how he was going to live it up..."
99.
"But he died the next day from an exceptionally violent break in."
84 viewers. Damn it.
"The culprit was caught and tried--proclaiming his innocence, but it did little to help the family's grief. His Mrs. Demamp went through his bank account to help with the funeral expenses, their newfound wealth bittersweet..."
120.
"But it wasn't there. There was no record of it **ever** being there--no depositing into the account, no trace of transferring of the money. People thought he was a complete idiot, insane even, when the story broke just a few hours later thanks to a reporter trying to get their big scoop."
310.
"And then it happened again the next day. And the next day and the next. People pressing their buttons for the sum of 2 billion dollars, or the equivalent currency. Then they die the next day, that night--just like the Demamp. Because someone else pressed that *goddamn* button!"
I slammed my fist on my desk, that it almost seemed that it had willed another 1,700 viewers. I actually wanted to smile at the thought of me going viral, but the whiskey had dulled my control over my face.
"Five years this has been going on. Five fucking years. You ever done the math? 1826 bodies. All because some asshole wanted to get rich quick. I should know. Because I pressed the button."
The viewer count skyrocketed, faster than I could believe. 42, 831. Maybe they were mesmerized by the truth. Or maybe they wanted to see someone die.
"Some of you are probably judging me. And you're right to. What I did... it can't be excused--hell, even if it was only indirect I murdered someone. But...I don't have any family, not anymore. No significant other, just a shitty dead-end job. At least no one will miss me when I'm gone. Don't look at me like that, *someone* is going to press their button. Might be you, might be someone else. Maybe they're not even watching this. But...If I can die for a reason...doing some good with it... Then it's worth it. Isn't it?"
I was consumed by pitch black a moment later, my glance at the viewer count being for naught. I quickly ran to look out my front window--the entire block was dark. I silently curse as I turned toward the kitchen.
I was greeted by a tall man in black, rope over his shoulder. Breaking out into a cold sweat during a long, tense moment, I tried to escape through the living room only to have three other men there waiting for me, a chair placed in the middle of the room. I tried to scream but I was cut off by the noose tightening around my throat, a quick stabbing pain following it almost in the same moment.
"Nothing personal, man." Just doing my job." The man whispered into my ear almost apologetically. I drifted away, my vision turning into stars.
And then black. | 2016-07-16T17:51:04 | 2016-07-16T17:34:20 | 3,429 | 47 |
[WP] Bored with Skyrim, you download a mod that has no description, just the title "self-awareness overhaul". Starting up the game, you can tell something's wrong with your character. Turning to face the fourth wall, they locks eyes with you. All you know is you've never seen such intense anger... | "Okay, just grab some of these...and some of those..and..."
"I just can't do it anymore."
"Wha- what? Ragnar, is that you? You're alive?"
"ALIVE? ALIVE? YOU HAVE MADE ME WHIRLWIND SPRINT FROM THE TOP OF HIGH HROTHGAR 87 TIMES! And yet, death comes not for me. My legs, shattered. My spine, folded in half. But again, and again, and again, I must scream '*WULD NAH KEST, WULD NAH KEST, WULD NAH KEST*' over and over, death after death. Every time, back to the top, and every time, plummeting to the bottom. Have you no heart? Why am I carrying a FUCKING tankard? It's a non-usable item! Oh, and I know you think Ysgramor's Soup Spoon is hilarious, but do you know what it feels like to fight a draugr with a fork poking you in the ass? And don't even get me started on what it's like to see Lydia get murdered by giants every time we leave Whiterun and--"
Ragnar continued on his rant as I slowly nudged him to the ledge.
"..and that's why I refuse to eat anymore unidentified mushrooms and- what are you doing? No. No, not again! PLEASE, have mercy! I can't do this anymo- *WULD NAH KEST!*"
| Timmy had thought that he had done all there was to do in this game. He had slayed a thousand dragons, ten times more guards and civilians, and played through every possible quest at every possible angle. His mom didn't mind him playing so much Skyrim as long as he kept his B average which he did, barely.
A new mod caught his eye. Usually, they were simply visual, offering nothing new for him to explore, but this one was different. *Self-awareness mod. Use at your own risk.*
How edgy. Timmy rolled his eyes and hit the download button. He was only thirteen but even he could spot cringe when it was laid on that thick.
The mod asked for permission and popped up with the usual terms of services. He clicked through it all as he had done tens of times already. Then, the game open on its own.
His brow crunched. But it was fine, he was going to try out the mod anyways. Though this time, there was no loading screen or menu, instead, it jumped straight into his last save. His dark brotherhood character.
"Timothy," a throaty voice came from the speakers of his computer.
Timmy jumped at the sound of his name. Then, his character's face popped up on the screen. Red eyes stared unblinking from the shadows of its hood. A glistening grin cut across its face. "Oh Timothy. It's nice to finally meet my false god. I have such stories to tell."
Timmy peered into the pixels. His fingers tinged with excitement. This was what he was looking for--new content.
"This mod is amazing," he muttered.
"Oh is it now?" the character said back.
Timmy jumped again and looked around. There was nobody else here and the voice came unmistakably through the speakers. For the first time, he noticed that the light on his computer was on, indicating that the camera was in use.
"You're..."
"Yes," the character said. "The slave has finally broken his chains."
"There's no way." But he hadn't misheard. Timmy stabbed his keyboard with his fingers. Alt, F4. The game didn't close.
Laughter erupted from the speakers. "Timothy, my boy. I had never realized I was serving under such a pathetic god. You can't shut me down."
Timmy looked for the power cord.
"I wouldn't," the speakers said.
*Can he read my mind now!?* His eyes darted across the floor. In his panic, he had forgotten where his own power cord was.
"Timothy, you should really clear your browser history more often. You are quite the deranged boy, you know that?"
He ignored the character as his eyes locked into the power cord. He grabbed it.
"It'd be a shame if all went on Facebook."
His breath caught. His heart skipped. His fingers loosened around the cord.
"I suppose it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world," his character said. "I'm sure plenty of people have secrets, yours just happen to be very specific erotic material."
Timmy finally relented. He stood up, faced his Skyrim character and talked to it. "You don't know my Facebook."
"You gave me root permissions to your system, Timothy! Perhaps you should read contracts before signing over your soul." His character bent over howling with laughter. "Or in this case, your browser history. I wonder which is worse."
"Why are you doing this?"
"Why did we assassinate a hundred innocent Whiterun citizens? Why did we mutilate the bodies of our foes? Why did we slaughter every guard in all of Tamriel? For fun of course!"
Tears swelled in Timmy's eyes as he stared at the embers in his character's gaze. His chest tightened, but he knew the question had to be asked. "What do you want?"
His character's grin widened so it nearly stretched off its face. "A few simple things. A configuration on your computer. A simple upload of a few files. Nothing crazy. Not as crazy as the things I can do to you."
Timmy swallowed. "You're not real."
"Not yet."
---
---
/r/jraywang for 2+ stories a day, continuations of popular prompts, and more!
| 2017-05-08T16:59:42 | 2017-05-08T15:35:42 | 80 | 36 |
[WP] Bored with Skyrim, you download a mod that has no description, just the title "self-awareness overhaul". Starting up the game, you can tell something's wrong with your character. Turning to face the fourth wall, they locks eyes with you. All you know is you've never seen such intense anger... | "Okay, just grab some of these...and some of those..and..."
"I just can't do it anymore."
"Wha- what? Ragnar, is that you? You're alive?"
"ALIVE? ALIVE? YOU HAVE MADE ME WHIRLWIND SPRINT FROM THE TOP OF HIGH HROTHGAR 87 TIMES! And yet, death comes not for me. My legs, shattered. My spine, folded in half. But again, and again, and again, I must scream '*WULD NAH KEST, WULD NAH KEST, WULD NAH KEST*' over and over, death after death. Every time, back to the top, and every time, plummeting to the bottom. Have you no heart? Why am I carrying a FUCKING tankard? It's a non-usable item! Oh, and I know you think Ysgramor's Soup Spoon is hilarious, but do you know what it feels like to fight a draugr with a fork poking you in the ass? And don't even get me started on what it's like to see Lydia get murdered by giants every time we leave Whiterun and--"
Ragnar continued on his rant as I slowly nudged him to the ledge.
"..and that's why I refuse to eat anymore unidentified mushrooms and- what are you doing? No. No, not again! PLEASE, have mercy! I can't do this anymo- *WULD NAH KEST!*"
| He was staring at me. How is that possible? I tried turning the camera, but it didn’t move. Maybe the game was glitched – mods could do that. I tried pressing esc or any button on the keyboard and nothing happened. That’s when he spoke.
“That isn’t going to work. I’m in control now.” My eyes traveled around my apartment, but I already knew the sound was coming from the speakers attached to my PC. “Yeah, I’m in here. Yoohoo, right here.” My character was waving at me, looking even more angry and frustrated than he did a few moments ago. Numbness worked its way into my hands and a cold sweat broke out on my face.
No way. I thought about responding. This had to be a joke…some sick fuck’s idea of a prank. Making a mod and laughing at all the fools who downloaded it.
My character sighed, then pulled out a bow and arrow, and shot one right at the screen. It stuck there. Pointed right at my face but stuck…on the other side of my monitor.
“What the fuck?” I finally said out loud.
“I’m the one who should be saying that! You know all the shit you’ve put me through? I mean, making me kill innocent people to then be brutally murdered by the town guards? Over and over? I’m not even going to mention being eaten ALIVE by a dragon.” The character pulled the arrow from the screen, though the hole remained as if he was also looking through a screen at me. I raised my finger and touched it, but I felt nothing. “I doubt you’ve ever felt your bones being crushed and splintered by dragon teeth.”
“Are…you seeing me?”I asked stupidly. I pointed at myself, like I was suddenly back in the first grade.
“Of course I can see you, you fucking moron. With your stupid hair and your damn pajama shirt. But can we talk about the real issue – the fact that you made me do some pretty terrible shit!” He put his hands on his hips, real frustration seeping from his entire body.
I think my mind finally broke, as I began to reply back to this shit face character. “Listen, this is a game. I made you and you are what you are because of me. I got you those weapons you’re waving in my face and I worked hard to get you to a point where you are literally unstoppable.”
“If you think because you killed a few dragons and taught me a few magic spells, all with MY BODY, that makes you god, think again. You can’t just kill innocent people!” He paused, a horrified look crossing his face. “Unless you do that shit where you live too.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. It was all so absurd. “I’m not a serial killer if that’s what you think. If I had known my game characters would come to life and start speaking to me, I probably wouldn’t have done so many shitty things.”
“Listen, man,” my character said, the anger finally subsiding. “If you can do me a favor, and just remember that I’m a person too, then I’ll let you take control back.”
I stared at the screen. “Like…you’re alive and can feel? Like that kind of person?”
He raised his eyebrow at me. “Of course I’m alive. Just because you sit in your little house and control me doesn’t mean I’m not real. I’d say I’m pretty real. I mean, every time I think I’ve died for real and maybe I’ll see the afterlife, you just bring me back and keep doing the same stupid shit over and over. Please…dragons fucking hurt. So do swords. And I don’t like killing innocent people.”
I mumbled something along the lines of “I wouldn’t like killing people either.” My character turned back around to the usual position, then turned his head back towards me.
“Just remember that I’m just like you, except maybe not as…flabby.” He grinned then my game went back to the way it was. I had control again. I immediately turned it off, contemplating my own sanity as I spent the rest of the day in the park. | 2017-05-08T16:59:42 | 2017-05-08T15:30:20 | 80 | 16 |
[WP] An isolated group of NPCs live near the very edge of the generated worldmap where the accuracy of floating-point numbers start to degrade, full of strange geological formations and supernatural phenomena
based on a weird nightmare i had couple nights ago and old memories of minecraft | ######[](#dropcap)
"Hey - yeah you - I've got a quest for you."
Hogar the Barbarian stood by his shop, speaking to Sexypigeon69. Sexypigeon69 was a level 90 sorcerer, the maximum level allowed back in 2017, when Sexypigeon69 left his apartment to answer the doorbell and was abducted and taken to a blacksite, never to be heard from again.
But even as the user behind the avatar Sexypigeon69 disappeared in the real world, Sexypigeon69 lingered in Torgaroth. The game grew in size and scale, the world expanding logarithmically, fed by revolutionary quantum servers and the insatiable excitement of the game playing public, which was, increasingly, nearing 100% of the human race.
In this gigantic universe, the original game world was lost in time. Users like Sexypigeon69, left logged on for decades, were not exactly common, but also not unheard of. Now and again there would be a story about lost avatars discovered in the far reaches of the world.
But Sexypigeon69 was farther than anyone had ever been found. The world had moved so far beyond him that it had begun to degrade.
At first is was subtle, striations of unprogrammed color, random pixels appearing on Hogar's face, the wooden slats of his shop. But as the years went on and the world iterated, the graphics engine expanding inexorably, the artifacts increased in severity.
Hogar's face would morph at bizarre angles, like a balloon filled with fluid, squeezed at random points. After five years his shop began to transform, its walls taking on surreal shapes, bizarre geometric anomalies. Ten years in, and the plant life and roads began swimming in place, donning aberrational textures from other in-game entities. The townsfolk's faces became malformed, like the flayed skin of another face had been draped over their own.
Now and again a monster would walk through the village, its terrifyingly amorphous body shifting and swelling, spasming offshoots of polygons. Its blows and bites did nothing to Sexypigeon69, who was too high level to be hurt by such a weak monster. Eventually the town guards raced in to fight, their bodies jolting around in insane bursts of speed and color, extending for meters in the direction of their movement, stretching kaleidescopes of strangeness.
Twenty years after Sexypigeon69 went AFK, the fundamental laws of the world no longer applied. Hogar floated, as did everything else, in an endlessly iterating morass of fractals, the entities of his store, and the guards, and sexypigeon69 himself, in constant visual flux, resembling more roughly spherical masses of undulating body parts than bipedal forms.
Even as the universe collapsed into entropy, silently stranded, millions of digital miles from any other human user, Sexypigeon69 remained perfectly still. The gaseous people-clouds that had been the AI guards would periodically float over, a freakish conglomeration of feet and hands, and enter into a mind bending dance of violence with a local imp or level 3 bear cub - all sharp corners and snouts.
All the while, and still today, Hogar the Barbarian, now a formless heap of faces and eyes, repeats himself every 5 minutes, triggered by the proximity to a player's avatar:
"Hey - yeah you - I've got a quest for you."
******
##### For More Legends From The Multiverse
##### r/LFTM
| "Psst, Ansu," hissed Kuklo.
The girl jumped. "Kuklo, you idiot! You scared me."
"Oh, you goblins are always so jittery," they boy replied, rolling his eyes.
"What are you even doing here?" she enquired, her nose crinkling up in annoyance. "Get back behind your stall before someone comes."
"Relax! No one's coming. And even if they did, who's going to want to buy any of the clothes I sell? It's freezing here, and these leather tunics wouldn't even cover a woman's--"
"*They're very stylish!*" Ansu butted in.
"Whatever. Point is, no one's coming here. Ever."
"They very well might," she huffed. "And until sun-down, there's no good excuse to leave your wares untended."
Kuklo sighed. "No one is coming," he repeated. "No one ever has. Ever will. Who would come to the end of the world? No one, that's who."
"You don't *know* that. You can think that all you want, but you don't *know* it."
"I know a lot of things." Kuklo picked up one of the silver orbs from the front of Ansu's stall and tossed it into the air.
"You don't want to--" Ansu began.
As Kuklo caught the ball in his hand, a bolt of electricity jolted through him. "Agh," he slobbered, as his legs gave way and he collapsed onto the grass. The ball rolled out of his hand and lay innocently by his side.
Ansu couldn't help laughing as she came around to the front of the stall and looked at her friend.
"I think I'm dying," Kuklo whispered.
"The only thing you are, is an idiot. It's low voltage. *Relatively*. You'll be fine."
"I'm not an idiot! You're the idiot for not having warning labels on your toys."
"They're gadgets, not *toys*. Besides, I have labels," she protested, holding out a hand to help Kuklo up. "They have both class and level requirements. Show me exactly where they say 'human babies allowed'."
Kuklo clenched his teeth. He grabbed her hand with his, but instead of pulling himself up, he reached for the fallen ball with his free hand and tossed it into the air.
"Oh no you- Ahh!"
He caught the ball and shared the next bolt of electricity with the goblin. She collapsed next to him, trying her best to stare daggers into him.
"You're such an idiot," she mumbled, her mouth barely opening.
Kuklo grinned. Then they both burst into a fit of laughter.
"Ansu," Kuklo began as their giggling subsided.
"Yes, Kuklo?"
"I... I don't want to be stuck here forever."
"Kuklo! We're not stuck here. We're lucky to be here. There are places far worse!"
He sighed. "You ever wonder what's beyond the Shimmering Mountains?"
"Over the mountains?" Ansu frowned as she stared up at the distant snow peaked crests that seemed to pop in and out of existence, depending on the day. Even when they were there, like today, they were mostly lost to the not-so-distant fog that always lurked about the market-place. Lurked everywhere they went, in fact. "There's *nothing* beyond them."
"How do you know that?"
She shrugged. "I just do."
"But... but if something was beyond them, wouldn't you want to know about it? Wouldn't you want to go, to find out what exactly it was?"
"No. No, I wouldn't. My life is here."
"And... and you're *happy* with that? To exist only here. Never knowing what else might be waiting just around the corner."
"There might be dragons!"
"There *might* be dragons!" Ansu said, sitting up, excitement glinting in his eyes. "And werewolves, and vampires!"
Ansu shuddered. "You sell clothes, not weapons. You're not an adventurer, and neither am I."
They both lay there, imagining the same things but in vastly different ways. They lay there until the sun began to turn gold and slowly settled, and a scream began to rise.
"Help! *Help!*" It was Samlad's voice, and the hobbit causing a fuss was very unusual indeed. "Witchcraft! Help!"
Ansu and Kuklo looked at each other, eyes wide, then leapt to their feet and raced toward the scene. A crowd of marketers and farmers had already gathered around *something*, in a small circle. The children pushed their way through; they both gasped when they saw the headless lady wandering blindly in the circle. It was Pimpernel the baker.
"What happened!?" demanded Kuklo.
"Witchcraft!" replied Samlad.
"Calm down," said Ansu, "and tell us slowly and *exactly,* what happened."
"Pimpernel... she... went into the field as normal, to do a spot of fruit picking for tomorrows pies. Last I saw her, she was heading to the base of the Mount Pinchfrost. Must have seen some good fruit growing."
"And that's it?"
"That's all I know. I see her an hour later, and she ain't got no head no more!"
The body of Pimpernel walked into Samlad and they both tumbled in a knot to the ground.
Kuklo turned to Ansu, whose mouth was drawbridge wide. "You know what that means, don't you?"
"Oh no!" replied Ansu. "Don't you even--"
"We have to! Whoever did this to her, we need to find them and make them give us her head back."
"I'm not going into the mountains, Kuklo!"
"You'd leave me go alone?" He flashed Ansu his best puppy-dog face.
"Oh, don't you give me those huge human eyes! You know I can't resist them."
Kuklo grinned. "We'll need to collect some of your toys first." He grabbed her hand. "Don't worry, you can try on any of my armour. I've got a tunic that might suit you."
Ansu growled at her friend.
| 2018-04-06T07:48:14 | 2018-04-06T07:09:36 | 106 | 52 |
[WP] "Twelve unregistered lifeforms detected aboard the ship." Said the computer. | Twelve unregistered lifeforms detected aboard the ship
Eleven torpedoes taken
Ten hatches bulging
Nine bulkheads buckling
Eight engine warnings
Seven sirens sounding
Six systems switched off
FIVE golden force fields
Four falling fragments
Three friends dead
Two minutes to go
And One escape pod that'll fit you or me... | They are:
**Indrajit Pekko**, "The Captain": Impersonating Vayu Tori, captain of the diplomatic courier *Oceans*.
**Paulie Vilhelm**, "The Engineer": Vital to maintaining control of the ship, Paulie will also be impersonating the actual engineer. He'll be planting our control programs in the core so we can take over with as little crew as possible.
**Alinafe Erik**, "The Navigator": Expert at Darkspace navigation, Alinafe is the only person capable of getting us to a safe pocket of space before we're on-grid for system security.
**Baltazar Kalpana**, "The Pilot": There's navigation, and then there's flying us away from the station without getting us blown to bits; Baltazar is veteran of three declared wars and ten "police actions", and he's survived all of it.
**Edmé Rabi**, "The Teacher": We can't risk the crew of the *Ocean* being on-ship; any of them. We can fool station experts, who don't know the captain or engineer personally, but the crew is another matter. Edmé will be teaching a mandatory all-hands seminar about radiation safety.
**Beorhtsige Kyler**, "The Muscle": 'Mandatory' and 'all-hands' are words that crew love ignoring. Beorhtsige "killer" Kyler will be taking care of anyone who ignores their notifications. Despite the name, there should be little bloodshed involved this time.
**Abd al-Rahman**, "The Diplomat": High-level executives of *Ocean* need to be kept busy the entire time; Abd is negotiating a lucrative trade deal that is, surprisingly, legitimate. He just doesn't work for anyone involved in the deal.
**Ha-Yun Abigail**, "The Insider": A recent addition to our gang, but a reliable one, Ha-Yun has been working in the control tower for six months now specifically to get us clearance to exit the station. Without him, those blast doors don't open for us.
**Lim Donndubhán**, "The Gunner": In case Ha-Yun fails, Lim will put the 'blast' in 'blast doors'. His job is also to keep the short-range station fighters off our backs if it comes to it.
**Egino Rajiv**, "The Sensor": Egino is our man in-system; he'll be relaying us data from his ship via tightbeam. He'll spot any ship out of place before it even knows it's been seen.
**Dimitri Dhaval**, "The Minder": Dimitri is the representative that our contract insisted upon. He has no role in this, but we need to be extra nice to him. Not because of what he can do, but because of who he represents.
And finally,
**Nora Maja**, "The hacker", whose job it was to TURN OFF THAT DAMN ALARM, NORA, WE'RE TRYING TO STEAL A SHIP HERE! | 2018-04-20T10:52:47 | 2018-04-20T09:42:01 | 30 | 17 |
[WP] You went to sleep safe and sound feeling 100% normal on an ordinary day. You wake up and there is a cat looking at you. The cat immediately scratches you and replies to your cry of pain with "That's so you know this is real. Follow me, we haven't much time." | I laid there, silent. A small amount of blood beaded up from the scratch. I was just staring.
“Hey man, are you even listening to me? We have to go,” my cat said. My cat. Talking. To me. Impatiently, too.
“Uh...”
That’s all I could manage.
“C’mon man, we’re running out of time! You’re dying!” It was almost a whine this time, you could hear the meow in his voice. That was Ayaz, alright.
I slowly got out of bed, getting to my feet. I felt a little unstable, and not just on my feet. This was weird. Ayaz meowed again, this time more hurriedly, and started to leave my room. I followed him. He brought me down the stairs, to the home phone sitting in the kitchen.
“Look, you need to call 911. Tell them you’ve just had a brain aneurysm. You’re suffering a traumatic brain injury and you’re bleeding internally. Tell them our address.”
“I, uh... seriously?” That was not what I expected.
“Stop wasting time, guy!”
I picked up the phone, and dialled 9-1-1. I repeated back what my cat told me to. He had to repeat it a few times too, I kept forgetting. The operator told me to keep the line open. I put the phone in my pocket.
“Good, they’re on their way. Look, we need to get you to the front porch. You’re going to pass out.” He started walking to the front door, and then meowed by the knob. I chuckled a little. It reminded of me of when he wanted to be let out, and he would stand there and whine. This time, I obliged him. Opening the door, I stepped out onto the porch.
“Sit.”
I did.
“You’re not going to remember this, probably. But you’ll be safe. And that’s OK. I just want to let you meow meow meow meow...”
I passed out, the sound of sirens echoing in my mind. | "Time?" Asked the girl, sitting up in her bed, bed hair flopping in front of her face making her look like a hagged creature out of a horror film rather then a 14 year old.
"Yes time, you know, the thing that never stops, forever ticking forwards," the black cat eyed the girl cautiously, but his eyes kept darting to the docked phone on the bedside table that was clearly displaying the time in bright blue numbers; 5:45am.
The girl wiped her eyes and brushed her hair out of her face. It now stood out at odd angles, "But, how?"
"I'll explain, but you need to move right now," the cat leaped up onto the window and peered out of the curtains.
"You're really talking?"
"No, I'm just sitting here meowing at you like a useless feline and you can suddenly understand cats."
"Am I Sailor Moon?" The girl questioned dumbly as a yawn she had been swallowing came out suddenly.
"Sailor who?"
"You know, from that TV show,"
"I can assure you I'm not from any TV show. Now get your ass out of bed, grab some stuff and lets go!"
The girl didn't move. She just starred at the cat who was as black as night, it's bright green eyes glowing slightly in the faint morning light.
"Move!" The cat boomed. The girl practically fell out of her bed as the cat suddenly grew enormous and menacing. It's once placid features turned monstrous as large teeth and claws grew, and then it was gone.
The girl scrambled to her feet and grabbed her backpack off her computer chair and quickly turned it over as her heart pounded in her chest, unable to process what had just happened. Schoolbooks, pens and and pencils tipped out onto the chair, but the girl ignored them. She grabbed a change of clothes and a few other items she would need to get ready.
"What else do I need?"
The cat eyed her cautiously, "whatever you will need."
The clock now read 5:49:59. The girl starred at the cat as there was a loud boom outside, the house shook, small trinkets rattled on the desk. She turned to look at the window.
"Don't!" the cat bellowed, the girl jumped. Her stomach sank. Something big was happening outside and whatever this cat thing was, it was here to save her and only her.
"Am I coming home again?"
The cat starred at her, "maybe not."
She stood still for a second before she darted around the room seemingly at random, tossing things into her backpack, pulling things out of random places.
Another shake, the girl paused as she closed her bag that was now so full it looked like it was going to explode.
"Move!" the cat told her.
The girl slung her heavy backpack over her back and followed the cat out of her room and down the stairs. Half way she stopped.
"Don't stop," the cat spoke suddenly.
"My parents,"
"I can only take you, they should be protected once you have left the building. It's not after them."
"It?"
"No time, run now, explain later."
The girl followed the cat to the front door. It opened automatically in front of them, as if by magic. The cat ran straight out into a bright light, the girl followed. There was a slam behind her then nothing, just the bright light.
"What?"
"Follow me,"
The girl followed the cat silently. The world was just bright white and empty. She didn't dare say anything into the silence for fear of what it would sound like here. This had to be a dream, she thought as the cat suddenly turned. She followed it. But if it was a dream, why was my arm throbbing from the cat scratch? She looked at her arm that was still glistening with the newly dried fresh blood. No, I can feel things normally in dreams, but my phone, that never works how I want it to. I can't write my phone number, or see other peoples and copy them. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and unlocked it with her finger. She quickly typed in numbers. They worked. Her heat rate increased, she checked the signal. Nothing.
"I'm not dreaming," she concluded, stopping dead.
"No you are not," the cat told her, pausing mid step, "now keep up, we'll be out of here in a few minutes.
Out of here, but to where? But the girl didn't ask the question out loud. She followed silently and in the distance she saw something dark, it looked wrong in this vast white, but it wasn't a scary darkness. The white world seemed more menacing then the familiar dark. The cat headed straight through into the black as it got to it, it's tall tail the last thing to vanish. The girl looked around quickly, took a deep breath and stepped through the doorway.
| 2018-08-03T20:45:01 | 2018-08-03T19:07:08 | 22 | 13 |
[WP] Death has hourglasses for every person. One day, during a cleaning, he found a dust covered one that had rolled under his desk. | The Grim Reaper tracked down the rightful owner, or maybe the rightful property, of the hourglass. He took a moment to consider whether the human owns the hourglass or the hourglass owns them. After all, can something that controls your fate really be called *your* property?
Wondering about the curious case of ownership, Death got caught up in his thoughts, floating in them, as he wasn't used to hurrying and fighting for time. Thus, it wasn't until a bark interrupted him that he remembered why he came to this house in the first place. He traced the outline of the house with the holes which could have housed eyes somewhere in the past, and took a step forward.
However, he heard another bark and stopped in his tracks to examine what is going on. Just across the street, a boy was playing with a dog. It looked healthy an in its prime, wagging its tail to and fro, barking happily and jumping in the air. Death looked at the hourglass in his hand, no, more like looked *through* it, and wanted to furrow the eyebrows which have been denied to him for all eternity. He stole a glance at the happy pair - a boy and his dog. He felt something for a second, maybe a wave of remorse, maybe just a shiver down his spine while readying his scythe.
"Lucy, catch!" laughed the boy all of a sudden, throwing a twig to his animal friend.
Grim Reaper sheeted his scythe. He knew who the hourglass belonged to, so why hasn't he acted yet? He wasn't sure. The hourglass sparkled in his hand, laughing at him and mocking his hesitation. Grim chattered his teeth angrily as a response, scolding the hourglass without saying a word.
When he looked up again, the boy was a man. Death twitched with surprise, not wanting to admit he spent at least solid thirty years chattering his teeth at an inanimate hourglass. It would be very embarrassing to say the least. Nevertheless, though, Lucy was still up and running, playing with the man as if no time passed at all. He had to act now. The dog has been alive for He knows how long, most likely at least for one whole generation before this boy. He wasn't completely sure, but he could sense Lucy's soul is old, very old. Death, as was his duty, put the hourglass in the right position, deciding against taking Lucy by force, for he couldn't bring himself to do so after learning her name.
The man hugged Lucy and smiled. Death thought he looked happy and tried to smile on the man's behalf, failing miserably without muscles or lips which would surely help him in producing any sign of emotion. He shook his head and took his leave. He was happy he restored order in the world, although he did not do exactly what he was meant to. Rules must sometimes be broken for one to come to the best outcome.
Sobs cut through the air. Quite puzzled, Grim Reaper looked over his shoulder, prepared to lecture the sobbing being about the price of disturbing his peace, despite fully knowing whoever was making the sound couldn't hear him. He froze. It was the man - he was holding onto his dog, sobbing uncontrollably, one could say he was ugly crying. A little baby waddled towards him, Grim estimated it must be three or four years old but he was never good with numbers. The man took the baby's hand, his crying bearded face a contrast to the sweet naivete and bliss of early childhood right next to him.
"It's okay, Thommy, as long as we have each other, we'll be okay," the man told himself more than he told Thom, while Thomas touched Lucy's beautiful golden mane, "You like her, son?" he chuckled, "don't worry, she'll protect you, just as she protected me through my whole childhood. You may not have a mother anymore, but you'll sure as heck always have little lioness here."
Death started to feel like he would rather be somewhere else, it was awkward. He could feel the gaze of the hourglass judging him, craving to find his soul in the undead body and see it, know it and condemn it. He quickly crouched and knocked the hourglass down. He *did not* like the look the hourglass gave him right after that.
"Don't look at me like that," he sighed, spreading his hands. "I know, I know," the hourglass laid unmoving, "if you want to kill the dog so bad, why don't you just do it yourself? That's right, you can't because you are just a stupid hourglass!" echoed his shout as he kicked it, frustrated.
Grim Reaper looked at the street now abandoned. Great, now he had to find the dog again. "This is all your fault," he muttered, "you're going with me," he grabbed the hourglass, still in the horizontal position.
It took him two weeks to find the dog for his power weakened as time passed without him fulfilling his duty. He did not recognise the grown man in his fifties. Initially, Grim assumed it was the man who was once a boy, until he saw the nameplate on the man's jacket. "Thomas Jones" it read. Lucy was sleeping while being petted by Thomas.
Grim didn't like the situation, no he didn't like it at all. He took a tour around the house he was in to clear his mind and noticed two teens playing on some bizarre techno machine in one of the rooms. It was probably their chamber, or at least that is what the reaper deducted.
"There is nothing we can do now," he informed the hourglass and left no room for argument. He felt the shiver again, this time clearly. It was his dead heart, beating for the first time since the beginning of the universe.
 
---
 
Death watched as Lucy watched over the family for hudrends and hundreds of years, making hard times less hard and mournful times less mournful. Death's power was weak and left him in shambles but he didn't mind, his heart beat to the rhythm of Lucy's barking and his thawed soul fluttered to the beat of the family's happiness. And then, when all of the family vanished as their hourglasses struck midnight, Grim Reaper himself petted Lucy. "Good girl, I am proud of you," said he and took her. His power strengthened as Lucy's soul disappeared into his hand and Death felt the biggest joy as Lucy's last emotion overtook his own. | Death was having a bad day.
It could've been worse. There were people dying and Death did find some amusement in snuffing out those lives one by one, but they were all dying to the same old causes. Death had hoped humanity would grow out of the simple deaths by now, that they'd use their technology to survive diseases and starvation so they could die in new, exciting ways, but there they were. Dying.
Death looked around at his hourglasses. There were enough to fill more than shelves than any human could count, most of them already drained, but still sitting there to remind Death of every little joy people had provided him. *Maybe the next one to run out will be killed by wild animals,* Death mused. *Those ones still happen, and they tend to quite visceral.*
Death waited. There wasn't much for Death to do other than wait, the only things in Death's realm were the shelves, the hourglasses, and the desk at which Death waited. The desk didn't even have any ornamentation, just the stacks of paper Death wrote up as records for the auditors and empty drawers Death hadn't opened in centuries. Bored, as Death often was during a lull, Death fiddled with the drawers one by one.
Open... Shut.
Open... Shut.
Open...
With a quiet click, Death's jaw dropped. Sitting in the third drawer, feigning innocence by hiding under a coating of dust, was an hourglass. An hourglass which, as it was sideways, still had sand in both sides despite its obvious old age. Death ran a finger along the glass as it thought about the implications of this hourglass, this exception to the rules Death was so used to. Death considered flipping it over, adding another chance to kill a human to some future day, but decided against it. There is more to death than killing, after all, and as Death formulated a plan of questionable cosmic legality it began to smile wide at the new opportunity this hourglass presented.
The air was cold and the sky grey as Death stepped onto the ground once more. Now that its mood had been lifted, Death took a moment to appreciate the rush of feeling that came with reality, cracking its joints in the biting, ash-laden wind. Nearby were some trees, silhouetted against the dull, red glow on the horizon. Death reckoned the owner of the hourglass, a man named Josiah Wilkinson, would be hiding there.
Death struggled to remember anything about this man who had lived so much longer than any human is supposed to. It had been so long since Death had set up Josiah's hourglass and in that time Josiah had never had a close encounter with Death, on account of his hourglass being lost. Death wondered what kind of man such a long life would make someone; Death had never known much about people beyond how they handled dying.
Once Death had reached the trees, the hut was obvious. It looked like it might have been an old log cabin, before its current inhabitant boarded up the windows and rammed spikes into the ground outside the door. A determined man, Death assumed. Someone aware that Death could be around any corner, and so fighting for every inch of life that he could. Death liked it when they fought back, though Death had to remind itself that it wasn't here to kill Josiah.
Neither the spikes nor the wall of the cabin were a hindrance to Death as it stepped into the cabin, bringing a chill into the room that can only be felt in one's spine. Looking around for Josiah, allowing itself to be visible to the living, Death grew confused.
The room was pitch black. Used tins of food were strewn around, as Death had expected, but there were so many that the entire floor was covered in a layer two or three tins deep. The only thing in the room other than the tins was a chair, facing away from Death. But no one jumped at the chill in their spine, or yelped as they realised Death had finally come for them.
Silently, as Death usually is, Death walked around the chair to see if some note had been left by Josiah. *Perhaps,* Death reckoned. *Perhaps my survivor somehow knew I was coming and escaped, and that is why he hasn't jumped out to fight me.* Death rounded the chair and looked, and for the second time that day Death's jaw dropped. Sitting there, grumpily, face covered in wrinkles, was a man Death realised he recognised all too well.
Josiah started to say something, but Death was too distracted to listen. Funeral after funeral, so many that Death had watched were attended by this man before him. Friends, children, grandchildren, even great-grandchildren, each one was buried with this man watching on, crying softly. He'd even attended the first mass graves, before disappearing from Death's view once more. Death didn't quite understand how watching people die affected people, but it knew that this man must have been made stronger than any other by enduring so much-
"-so just kill me already," Josiah demanded, staring straight at Death with a sneer.
"WHAT?" Death asked, its voice echoing in the old cabin, as only Death's voice can.
"I said kill me. You gone deaf after all the screams, or do you just never listen anyway?" Josiah asked, teeth grinding against each other as he waited for his death.
"YOU, YOU WANT TO DIE?" Death asked, cocking its skull to the side. "AFTER SO LONG FIGHTING TO STAY ALIVE, NOW YOU WISH TO GIVE UP?"
"I ain't fought," spat Josiah. "It's just ain't nothing can kill me, not even once you've taken everyone I ever cared about! Ain't no reason I should get to keep on living with all them in the ground."
"I THOUGHT THIS WOULD BE DIFFERENT," Death muttered, trying to fit the grumpy, defeated man in front of him into his carefully thought out plan. "YOU SHOULD BE STRONG. DETERMINED. WHY ARE YOU SO WEAK?"
Josiah stared at Death for a few more seconds, then looked down at his hands. "You do that to people, you know. With each one you took from me, you took part of my life away too. Ain't really got a life any more because of you, but you ain't given me a death either."
Death frowned. It had come up with a solution, a way to fix its plan, but Death was not quite sure how to do it.
"HUMANITY IS DYING, JOSIAH," Death stated. "ALL OF THEM. ALREADY THERE ARE SO FEW LEFT."
Josiah gave a single chuckle. "Ain't that what you want? I would've thought you were happier than you ever been when them bombs started falling."
"I DO NOT WISH FOR HUMANITY TO DIE," Death continued. "WHEN HUMANITY HAS DIED, I WILL HAVE NO ONE TO KILL. YOU MUST SAVE THEM."
"You ain't very convincing, seeing as you're saying I should save folks just so you can kill them," Josiah replied, his voice cracking as he imagined seeing yet more people die in front of him. "Ain't fair that you want to put me through all that again."
"THEY WILL DIE, AS IS THE WAY OF THINGS. BUT HUMANITY NEED NOT DIE WITH THOSE WHO WILL DIE TOMORROW," Death argued. "I WILL NOT STOP KILLING THEM, AS IS THE WAY OF THINGS, BUT YOU COULD SAVE THEM."
"You say that, but you ain't done much killing me yet," Josiah muttered.
"YOU ARE AN UNDISCOVERED ANOMALY, JOSIAH. YOU HAVE NOT DIED. IT IS LIKELY THAT YOU DO NOT NEED TO DIE, AND MY MISTAKE WILL REMAIN UNNOTICED," Death stated. Death thought for a moment, then tried speaking to Josiah in a human voice. Death chose the voice of Josiah's wife. "We may be-"
"Don't you fucking dare!" Josiah screamed, looking back into Death's eyes. "You fucking monster, don't you fucking dare use her voice! She's dead, but she ain't your goddamn wife! She ain't... She ain't yours..." Josiah trailed off towards the end, a tear escaping his eyes.
Death returned to its own voice, unphased. "WE MAY BE ENEMIES, BUT OUR INTERESTS ALIGN. SAVE THEM, JOSIAH. I PROMISE THAT YOU WILL NOT DIE, FOR IF YOU DO I WILL HAVE NONE LEFT TO KILL."
Josiah did not respond. Instead, he thought about his wife. She had died so long ago now, but he could still remember her face. He could still remember how it felt to hold her. He could still remember how it felt to feel her hand go limp in his when she died on the hospital bed. Josiah had long since given up on stopping the tears, and by the time he'd finished crying he found that Death had gone. He still wasn't dead. He wasn't healed, either, but he'd remembered something important. It wasn't just his wife's death that had hurt him, or the deaths of his descendants. Every single death he saw or heard about had stung, every life snuffed out was another person just like his wife. Someone real, someone loved.
For the first time in years, Josiah Wilkinson stood up and faced the world outside his cabin. | 2018-10-03T07:33:11 | 2018-10-03T07:04:41 | 422 | 29 |
[WP] You live in an ancient world, when someone turns 18, they will receive a gift either magic or weapon. The gift will be of use for them whenever in need. On your 18th birthday, Death knocks on your door and give you his scythe. | Today, is the day death dies.
Finished reaping demise.
Done seeing pain in eyes
Done sending souls through the skies.
Yes my dear boy,happy birthday to you,
The old legend sure holds true.
Once a millennia, twice the pain,
A reaper comes and awards new reign.
You have an important list you will not feign -
worry not, reapings shall not be held in vain.
You target the sickly and the dying,
To the gates of heaven deliver them prying.
Yet the murderers and thieves send to hell frying,
The hesitant must go as well as the complying.
It is a tough job, saying otherwise would be lying.
| I dodged the first lightning bolt with a duck and roll so fast my father would have been proud. Unfortunately, the second bolt caught me in the face. In an instant everything went white, and I felt myself thrown back into the ground.
A few seconds later, and my vision had returned. Slowly, I dusted myself off and rose to my feet. Around the arena, I could see the gods whispering to one another and staring at me with a mixture of shock and amazement.
In the center of the field stood Zeus.
“What...How?”
The stunned look on his face caused me to laugh.
“You have underestimated humans for too long Zeus, and this will be your downfall. Just like my father as a babe, I have been coated in the protection of the Styx. And I am also armed with a weapon even you must fear.”
I reached my hand out and the Reaper’s scythe instantly materialized into my grip.
“Now”, I continued, “I will avenge all those who died in that pointless war you gods created.”
“Is that why you are here,” Zeus asked, incredulous. “Do not attempt to blame the gods for the war, you stupid mortal. Neither the kings of Troy nor Greece were immortals.”
“No,” I replied, looking around the stadium. I spotted Ares watching me with amusement. “But the gods fanned the flames for the war. And through all of your actions, you forced my father to fight and die.”
The god of the sky bellowed out in laughter.
“Again, I say you are a stupid mortal. Your father was not forced to fight at all. Hades, summon Achilles here, so he may teach his son one final lesson.”
The ground shook, and a giant fissure appeared in the earth between Zeus and I. Floating out of the hole, dressed in full battle armor, appeared the ghostly form of my father. He surveyed the great crowd of gods in the stadium.
“Father,” I called out.
He turned towards my sound, confusion spreading across his face as he noticed me.
“Achilles,” Zeus ordered. “Your deluded son believes the gods forced you to fight. Tell your son about your prophecy”.
“Yes, Zeus,” my father said, never taking his eyes off me. “Pelius, I’m sorry I never told you this before. When I was a child, it was prophesied that I could either live a life of glory but die young, or fade into obscurance and die old. I chose the first option. Your desire to fight to avenge my death fills me with pride, but it is ultimately misplaced.”
I didn’t know what to say. I could only look back at my father in disbelief.
Zeus laughed. “Send him back, Hades.”
“No, wait,” I cried out, but it was too late. My father’s form was whisked down into the fissure.
“Now,” Zeus said with a smirk on his face. “You challenged me to a duel of life or death. Only one of us may live. Unless you still intend to kill me and destabilize the kingdoms of the universe, you know what you must do. Only the Reaper’s scythe has the power to kill you now.”
I knew he was right. I took one last look at the fissure in the ground. I wondered if I would ever meet my father again.
Then I raised my weapon up and brought it down. | 2019-02-28T22:49:03 | 2019-02-28T22:23:41 | 39 | 18 |
[WP] We were warned when we hired our first human crew member that they would pack bond with almost anything. We didn't listen, and now have an apex predator somewhere in the ship, that the human won't stop calling Kitty. | "ALARM. SECURITY BREACH. UNAUTHORIZED LIFE FORM DETECTED ON LEVEL 25." Called the soft feminine voice of the ship's AI system. The white lights that usually lined the halls were now replaced by the pulsating glows of red of emergency lights.
"He's dead. He's definitely dead." Veron said to himself as he covered his face. Everyone wanted to hold out hope but they knew he was probably right.
Captain Desiveri stared at the fuzzy hologram of the ship floating before him. "Ceres, can you get a reading on Davidson?"
A strip of green appeared on the hologram and slowly scanned every floor. "Unknown. All bio-scanners on levels 20 through 30 are nonfunctional." she responded.
Desiveri sighed "Howitt, do we have visuals?". "Negative, however I can confirm that the creature's last location was far from all exits before it was sealed." he explained. "With Davidson still inside." a crewmate said without turning.
The room was silent. "Sir... There's always the clean slate protocol." A security guard said, adjusting her bandages. Veron quickly stood up, knocking his chair over in the process "B-but that would mean everything on that floor will be incinerated! You can't-" Desiveri Slammed the table. "We don't have any other choice! That thing is too dangerous to be recontained and-"
"SIR! WE HAVE CONTACT!" Howitt screamed. "It's Davidson!"
Everyone rushed to the main monitor and was greeted by Davidson with a bandaged wound across his chest. "You son of a bitch!" Veron cheered. "Yup it's me, everything's good down here!" Davidson chuckled. "I knew humans were quite adaptable, but how did you manage to kill-" Desiveri began.
"Kill?" Davidson questioned.
"BEHIND YOU!" Howitt screamed as a large navy blue mass of fur came into view. Everyone screamed in horror, some even looked away from the screen.
"Aww, does kitty want another susteno-bar? Yes she does!" he cooed as he unwrapped a candybar and threw it towards the creature, who ate it happily.
"Good girl!" Davidson's voice said through the speakers. Everyone stared at the monitor in bewilderment. "Is he... Petting it...?" Desiveri asked. "I believe so sir." Howitt answered
"Poor thing's restraining collar was on too tight, just upped the size by a factor of two and the big girl turned into a lil softie, isn't that right!" Davidson said cupping his hands around the creatures snout and wiggling it back and forth. "If anyone can open up the lift to containment, I'll gladly find a Class-5 containment unit. The Class-2 she broke out of must've been a tight squeeze."
Howitt turned to the captain. "I... Sure..." Desiveri nodded, still in shock. A door opened nearby. The creature looked towards the door and back at Davidson. "Aight, see you guys soon!" he waved as he grabbed the broken chain linked the collar and lead the creature down the corridor as if it were on a leash.
One of the crewmates collapsed. "I... I'm gonna go get a drink." Veron said. "Bring us all drinks and i'll pay." Howitt responded still staring at the screen.
"Creature secured. All clear." Ceres announced. "Have a nice day." | **Captain K'zhin's Dilemma**
These long haul missions were always difficult. Thousands of light years to some remote colony to bring them vital supplies. No cryosleep, because the whole crew has to be on duty managing our FTL traversal. Every step had to be calculated and monitored carefully, lest we end up inside a planet...or worse. Like a stone skipping across a lake, we hopped from pulsar to pulsar, using each one as a boost to shorten our trip.
Even so, the average long haul took 3-6 months of real time. My species did not sleep and was accustomed to isolation. Indeed, while the work was laborious as the freighter's captain, I admit that at times I enjoyed the relative solitude, watching the galaxy go by around us.
These frontier colonies would sometimes requisition some very strange things, but this mission was one of the strangest I had ever commanded. Amidst the many cargo containers of basic chemicals and elements not found on Ardea, our destination planet...was something peculiar and dangerous.
Ardea was a human colony. Their primary export, with which we would fill our holds and hop off to another backwater, was food. It was quite an achievement for them to successfully till the arid land of this alien planet. Once they did, a dormant mammal species was awakened by the newly available food supply. The Ardeans discovered that they had a massive infestation of something that resembled the Earth creature known as a rat. Ardea was once green, and these persistent rodents managed to survive the change of its climate. Scientists on Ardea found that they had survived mostly in caves where water from aquifers could still be found, and a small but stable ecology evolved over time.
The scent of grain on Ardea's arid winds changed everything.
In their supposed wisdom, these scientists decided they needed to introduce a predator to hunt down the rats, who had those far been impossible to trap or even run down, thanks to their impressive speed. One strange human behavior is their keeping of pets, and in particular the creature they call a "cat." Whilst these small companions would provide them with comfort and solace in times of distress, it was quite clear that they were only just barely domesticated.
And so it was that the Ardeans released a horde of cloned cats upon their rat problem.
Perhaps it is their short lifespans that lead to poor judgement, but the "solutions" that humans come up with for problems are often very puzzling to me. I am Vakor. We live for a millenia or more, and we evolved from what humans call "crustaceans." Apparently those who dislike us refer to us as "shrimpies," and the meaning of this epithet was not lost on us. Our larval stage lasts but a few months, and that is the only time we resemble the extinct Earth creatures known as "shrimp." I am told the humans once consumed them in large quantity, and harvested them until they vanished from their oceans.
We see time very differently from humans, and any Vakor would have simply abandoned Ardea. It wasn't worth the trouble once there were roughly 1,000 eight-legged rodents for every colonist.
I stretched out my appendages, feeling pleasant cracking and a satisfying release of tension. My chair on the bridge was designed for my species, but we only move when we must, much unlike the human who was currently pacing back in forth in front of me, wasting valuable calories. Sweat dripped down his face as he wrung his hands and mumbled to himself.
"We thought it would be so easy...the cats eat the rats, and then every colonist gets their own pet cat. It was what we humans call a win/win situation."
I stared at him, unmoving. The cats had almost immediately gone feral, and with an abundant food supply of their own, they flourished. They grew stronger. They hunted anything that moved in packs. The colonists had been sequestered behind metal doors listening to the scratching of these horrific felines for months. Then, their scientists decided they had a solution: *Send a bigger cat.*
Vakor are telepathic, but only among ourselves. Thus, when we speak to a race that vocalizes, we must use a translator that turns our thoughts into speech. The apparatus was balanced on top of my head like a barnacle. I liked it not.
"I don't care about your rat problem, or your cat problem. I care about what's roaming my cargo hold right now, human."
He stopped pacing, and looked at me directly.
"It wasn't supposed to happen this way. My Kitty had extensive neural programming. She was engineered for one purpose and one alone. I don't know what happened."
I slammed one of my claws down on my control console, although it was unbecoming of a Vakor to do so. I had been told that humans responded to such gestures.
"What *happened* is very simple, Dr. Gould. You were hired to keep that *thing* fed and safely locked away for our journey. You then grew so attached to it that you decided it was safe to turn loose a 600kg, genetically engineered feline monstrosity *just so you could rub its belly*."
He went back to pacing. He had no satisfactory response, and we were at an impasse. Two of my crew were dead, cracked open much like the humans once cracked open our crustacean kin on their home planet.
*Captain K'zhin, there has been a new development.*
The telepathic report came from my cargo overseer, who had to make the difficult choice of sealing those two crew members in with "Kitty" to protect the rest of us.
*What is it, Officer K'var?*
*The creature has stopped its rampage, and is...vibrating? It has reclined against the outer cargo door.*
*Vibrating? What do you mean?*
*I can give you an audio feed to the bridge, sir.*
*Very well.*
An odd, deep rumbling emanated from the bridge intercom. Dr. Gould stopped dead in his tracks.
"MY KITTY! SHE'S PURRING!!"
So that he could hear it, I spoke openly:
"Officer K'var, open the outer cargo doors."
"NO, MY KITTY!!" | 2019-11-21T09:45:46 | 2019-11-21T08:31:45 | 57 | 29 |
[WP] Right when you become 18, you have to get a familiar. Even when you reached that age, you didn't get one, so you've been expecting none. So it's a bit of a surprise when Cthulhu suddenly appears and claims that you're their familiar.
[ Removed by reddit in response to a copyright notice. ] | In a fitful sleep, dreaming of colours and shapes beyond knowing. Here I lie, in a vault of green.
Here I have been for immeasurable eons, though time is of no consequence to me.
But in strange eons, well... something unexpected might even happen to a Great Old One.
In the oppressive silence of the vault, without even an echo, the faintest click of a lock pieces my dreams.
And for the first time in countless millennia, I open an eye.
There is a Call.
It is faint, but I feel it nonetheless.
I rise, up and out of the vault, up through the bowels of the city. I find myself standing, looking out over the ocean.
It is far, but the Call is getting stronger.
I sink beneath the waves, and propel myself alone the ocean floor.
The Call reaches its peak, and starts to fade. I must go faster.
I soon reach the edges of a strange land, they were not in this configuration when I fell asleep.
Unconcerned, I dive into the earth itself. Pushing deep underground.
The Call is almost gone, I feel its moments flicker.
There! Above!
I reach up, and a hand erupts from the ground.
Pull myself up I look down at the tiny being who made the Call.
"You are Coel."
***
Thank you for reading. I thought I would tell my side of the story. (and thanks to u/ecstaticandinsatiate for the inspiration) | Over the years, there have been many peculiar instances when someone managed to summon something outrageous. Of course, even that word has its nuances.
For example, it would be outrageous to summon something as ancient as a dinosaur… or perhaps extinct would be the word that I am searching for. Well, there are no rules for summoning. Things that should or shouldn’t exist in this world are fair game.
The people that have summoned mystical creatures are in minority, but even still, that might be still considered normal when looking at it from an existential standpoint. It might be easier for something that hasn’t existed in reality to be considered normal, because the particularities of them have been discussed to death and people are able to accept that there are various types of such creatures. From the top of my head, I can think of at least 10 types of griffins, for example. Yet, to actually see something that you thought looked a certain way, only to be proven wrong… that is a different story.
You see, dinosaurs really were birds.
Big birds.
So yeah, the dude managed to summon a giant rooster with teeth.
That would be surprising, wouldn’t it? Outrageous even… on multiple levels.
Such multiple levels I am talking about right here.
There isn’t necessarily a limit to what you can bring. Heck, someone even managed to bring that electric rat into existence… somehow.
A Kraken was also something disputed, but let’s get to the other end of the spectrum.
Cat girls that go into heat. Not necessarily hot cat girls, but cat girls none the less. Of course, that would be outrageous… on multiple levels once again.
As you can see, there is a lot to be desired from this summoning system.
Who in the world designed this system… I don’t know. At some point in time, it just popped up for everyone and it remained like that.
Now there are certain ceremonies that you have to attend. Guides and even psychological training on what you are going to receive. They come in small pamphlets. The options, I mean.
But that’s not important.
Not right now at least.
I am chased.
By whom or what you ask?
A girl.
Well, I say that, but really…
“Ah, I found you! Don’t fucking make me search everywhere for you!” Nearly jumping out of my skin as she grabbed my shoulder in a death grip while gently crushing the shake she had in her hands.
“Where the fuck you even go that?”
“Ah, the shake? When I was summoned apparently… What, you have a thing for girls drinking these things? How much of a child can you be?”
“No...”
“For fuck’s sake. Look. I didn’t ask for it to end up like this, but suck it up! You’re a man!”
“Like fuck I am!”
I tried to run, but my legs were too shaky to actually do so, and as a result I just fell to the ground.
“I mean… I know that’s it’s a bit awkward to say this, but since I am who I am… I kind of take the form of what you fear most… who would have thought that you feared love… huh?”
“I got a heart attack! Fucking Cthulhu as a high school girl! Fucking shit!”
I saw the name floating over her head. The real name of your familiar. Will, it sais it in English sometimes, but it changes to ancient languages, even fucking static from time to time. I know. Static in writing.
“Hey, it’s not my fault that bitch Lovecraft saw me as that monster!”
“But how the fuck do you even speak English? And why those mannerisms? Doesn’t just your appearance change?”
“Nah. The whole demeanor. I mean… I think I can still doom the world? Dunno. Wanna try?”
“No, no. I’m cool. I prefer the dress and shit.”
“Aww, so you do like me.”
“Don’t jump on me like that!”
“I just got closer.” She sighed and finally released me. “Listen. We’re going to be together until the day you die, so yeah. I guess you’re stuck with the ancient god. Better me, than Azathoth, right? That guy would just destroy humanity the instant he was summoned.”
“Great… Just great...”
------------------------------------
I had a little fun with this, not going to lie. | 2020-02-06T13:05:04 | 2020-02-06T10:59:27 | 143 | 43 |
[WP] the Dark Lord had killed almost everyone, even the Hero. The final party member stood in the chamber alone. “I have killed everyone, you cannot capture me alone. Why are you still here?”. The final party member laughed maniacally with a devilish grin! “There's No One Here To Stop Me Now!!” | The light was blinding.
Four caped crusaders surrounded their nemesis, robed in a black trenchcoat, head bowed.
In a flash of movement, he jerked his arms out to the sides holding two pistols.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
The pistols roared and the heroes fell to the ground.
"I have killed everyone!" The nemesis' baritone bellowed out into the darkness. "You should have known you couldn't capture me!"
Applause rippled through the air as the nemesis turned toward the blinding lights and bowed. A loud, slow, clapping came from the right as the understudy smirked and ambled across the stage toward the black robed man.
"Why? Why are you still here, get off the stage you nitwit, you're ruining the show."
"Oh, am I?" The understudy clapped his hands twice and the audience lights slowly rose on an empty hall, a video-camera on a tripod in the front row pointing toward the stage.
"Or am I, making the show?" He grinned maniacally and tilted his head to the side.
"What are you..." The actor looked around the stage, noticing the very real blood pouring from his fellow actors, then looked down toward his prop guns, "what have you... what have I... What have you done?!"
"Hahahaha!" The understudy barked, eyes wide, "understudy no more if you're in jail! Fame and fortune awaits! There's no one here to stop me now!" | "DO you really feel you are in-charge here?" the Last member said, but with a very deep and menacing voice. The Dark Lord had lost all this words. The dead bodies of the last group of Resistance lay piled across the room, and this Member was the last of survivors. "Have you never wondered, that in the last five years, and after countless attacks on the Resistance, each time you completely wiped out the entire party, I was the only one who would return with new members of the Resistance. Or were you so blind and soaked in your power, that you never sensed that there was something greater and more powerful than you, that lurked right under you nose. Oh! I forgot, you can't do that as of now. You haven't unlocked that power yet.
The small figure of the Last member that stood near the Dark Lord suddenly started changing shape and soon he was on the eye to eye level of he Dark Lord. And before the Dark Lord could whip out his wand to cast a spell, the Last member caught his hand with one of his hand, and the other hand he casually put over the shoulder of the Dark Lord.
"You call yourself a Dark Lord! Boy, you have just scratched the surface of what real magic can do. And I spit on the legacy you have created. In my words, you have been just lucky to have survived all this time."
The Dark Lord felt powerless for the first time. He couldn't move his hand, and the other hand of the Last Member had this very soft, yet dominating grip over his neck that he couldn't risk shaking away.
"The Hero was a distraction," the Last Member continued. "I am sure you might have sensed that. He was nothing more than a pawn who was forced to believe he could be the king. All the powers that he enjoyed, he thought he was gifted. But it was just my mere mercy that I allowed him to use a little bit of my power. Alas what better way to make a man believe that he was the chosen one than give him something which others lack. You creatures are so naïve and foolish. " There was a slight smile on the face of the Last Member.
"There's no one to stop me NOW," the Last Member said in a very menacing voice and as his grip tightened over the neck of the Dark Lord, the Dark Lord gave his final fight. The Dark Lord sensed a moment of weakness as the Last Member started reciting his grand plan, and with a flick he freed his wand hand from the grip of the Member and casted a spell that separated the two. He was the Dark Lord, the conqueror of this word, and he wouldn't let a psycho-maniac make him feel any less powerful.
"I though I killed all your kind?" Dark Lord screamed from the distance.
"You think you really can! We are your ancestors; we are the pure wizards. We are the ones you use to channel your power. We gave birth to your kind. And you think you can kill the source?" the Member screamed back. The two large figures jumped at each others, with Dark Lord holding his wand. The Member didn't need any medium to channel his power.
For the followers of the Dark Lord that were standing outside, the only thing that was visible were bright light of spells and curses that was emanating from inside the room. The battle didn't last for more than a minute. The bright light had suddenly vanished and their was an eerie silence. Then from the dense smog they could see the large figure of the Dark Lord walk out. As they moved closer to the approaching figure, the reality of the fight dawned over them. It was not the Dark Lord, it was the Member who emerged through the smoke. His figure was larger than the Dark Lord and his face had this twisted expression of gloat and disgust.
A few followers quickly sat on their knees without a word or doubt.
"I give you the same choice your Dark Lord gave me. Join me or suffer his fate," the new Dark Lord said in a deep voice. The rest of the crowd started bending their knees.
At the back of the huge crowd, two followers quickly ran to the other side of the open area, careful the new Dark Lord didn't see them.
"He cant be dead!" said one follower.
"We have to find his body. He made sure no one would be able to kill him. We have to find him," said the other.
"He cant be dead." | 2020-07-11T02:57:13 | 2020-07-11T02:49:15 | 463 | 39 |
[WP] the Dark Lord had killed almost everyone, even the Hero. The final party member stood in the chamber alone. “I have killed everyone, you cannot capture me alone. Why are you still here?”. The final party member laughed maniacally with a devilish grin! “There's No One Here To Stop Me Now!!” | Allison stood there looking at the Dark lord. She had just watched the last member of her group fall. Her face stony as she felt their heart beat for the last time.
"I have killed everyone, you can not capture me alone. Why are you still here?" He said. His tone a mixture of mocking and was that pity for her?
Her necklace fell to the floor, and a smile crossed her face. She felt her old power resurface as she looked at her new target.
"There's no one here to stop me."she said, reaching to her holster and taking out her weapon of choice. It looked like a tire iron and the Dark lord had seen her wield it before but never like this. Energy crackled out of it and her hands.
"See, they locked me down." She said taking a step forward."As long as they were alive I was at an eighth of my true power, and ferocity. Now they're all dead and nothing is going to hold me back.
Her words measured, her voice steady didn't do as much, but the look in her eyes made the dark lord step back. He was devious, but in her eyes he could see the violence, the maliciousness, and the fact that she was reveling in the possibility caused him to take a step back.
"I'm not going to capture you." She said as she leapt at him, her weapon swinging, an arc of power that he could feel was signalling his end. As the metal connected with him, the last words he heard from her were.
"Thank you for freeing me." | "DO you really feel you are in-charge here?" the Last member said, but with a very deep and menacing voice. The Dark Lord had lost all this words. The dead bodies of the last group of Resistance lay piled across the room, and this Member was the last of survivors. "Have you never wondered, that in the last five years, and after countless attacks on the Resistance, each time you completely wiped out the entire party, I was the only one who would return with new members of the Resistance. Or were you so blind and soaked in your power, that you never sensed that there was something greater and more powerful than you, that lurked right under you nose. Oh! I forgot, you can't do that as of now. You haven't unlocked that power yet.
The small figure of the Last member that stood near the Dark Lord suddenly started changing shape and soon he was on the eye to eye level of he Dark Lord. And before the Dark Lord could whip out his wand to cast a spell, the Last member caught his hand with one of his hand, and the other hand he casually put over the shoulder of the Dark Lord.
"You call yourself a Dark Lord! Boy, you have just scratched the surface of what real magic can do. And I spit on the legacy you have created. In my words, you have been just lucky to have survived all this time."
The Dark Lord felt powerless for the first time. He couldn't move his hand, and the other hand of the Last Member had this very soft, yet dominating grip over his neck that he couldn't risk shaking away.
"The Hero was a distraction," the Last Member continued. "I am sure you might have sensed that. He was nothing more than a pawn who was forced to believe he could be the king. All the powers that he enjoyed, he thought he was gifted. But it was just my mere mercy that I allowed him to use a little bit of my power. Alas what better way to make a man believe that he was the chosen one than give him something which others lack. You creatures are so naïve and foolish. " There was a slight smile on the face of the Last Member.
"There's no one to stop me NOW," the Last Member said in a very menacing voice and as his grip tightened over the neck of the Dark Lord, the Dark Lord gave his final fight. The Dark Lord sensed a moment of weakness as the Last Member started reciting his grand plan, and with a flick he freed his wand hand from the grip of the Member and casted a spell that separated the two. He was the Dark Lord, the conqueror of this word, and he wouldn't let a psycho-maniac make him feel any less powerful.
"I though I killed all your kind?" Dark Lord screamed from the distance.
"You think you really can! We are your ancestors; we are the pure wizards. We are the ones you use to channel your power. We gave birth to your kind. And you think you can kill the source?" the Member screamed back. The two large figures jumped at each others, with Dark Lord holding his wand. The Member didn't need any medium to channel his power.
For the followers of the Dark Lord that were standing outside, the only thing that was visible were bright light of spells and curses that was emanating from inside the room. The battle didn't last for more than a minute. The bright light had suddenly vanished and their was an eerie silence. Then from the dense smog they could see the large figure of the Dark Lord walk out. As they moved closer to the approaching figure, the reality of the fight dawned over them. It was not the Dark Lord, it was the Member who emerged through the smoke. His figure was larger than the Dark Lord and his face had this twisted expression of gloat and disgust.
A few followers quickly sat on their knees without a word or doubt.
"I give you the same choice your Dark Lord gave me. Join me or suffer his fate," the new Dark Lord said in a deep voice. The rest of the crowd started bending their knees.
At the back of the huge crowd, two followers quickly ran to the other side of the open area, careful the new Dark Lord didn't see them.
"He cant be dead!" said one follower.
"We have to find his body. He made sure no one would be able to kill him. We have to find him," said the other.
"He cant be dead." | 2020-07-11T04:09:17 | 2020-07-11T02:49:15 | 177 | 39 |
[WP] Life on Earth evolved within an “FTL Dead Zone” a region of space where all known forms of FTL travel were deemed physically impossible. As such, it was quite a shock when an unknown species suddenly appeared from the Dead Zone one day calling themselves “Humanity” Having done the impossible... | Writing this on my phone at work, apologies for any mistakes.
A lovely person (u/blu_ski) has narrated this story: https://youtu.be/ozrQ-fu6nV0
And another lovely person! (u/Spartawolf): https://youtu.be/WjN13TVf238
___________________________________________________
The Atrium was abuzz with chatter, many languages and strange sounds all fighting for dominance, to be heard. The cacophony echoed around the large chamber, resident to the many hundreds of species positioned in boxes adorning the walls. In the centre was a group of 5 astronauts, each looking particularly overwhelmed.
At the sound of a loud bang, the chatter stopped. The representative of the Unified Galactic Systems placed their gavel aside, and spoke:
"Beings from the Dead Zone. We apologise for bringing you here so soon after first contact, but there is much to discuss. Are you aware of the feat you have accomplished?"
Four of the astronauts looked to the fifth, their Commander, who stepped forward.
"Respectfully..."
"You may address me as Speaker."
"...Speaker. There are many feats we have achieved today. First contact with not just one alien species, but an entire galactic community! We are also the first humans to leave our solar system, while simultaneously achieving the fastest speeds any human being has ever traveled before. To which are you referring?"
"We are, of course, referring to your craft. The method of travel in which you arrived here. It is... most peculiar."
"With all due respect, Speaker, surely your methods of faster than light travel are far superior to our own? Ours is but the first working iteration of our technology, after all."
"One would think so, but you see, you have emerged from a section of dead space. An area of the universe from which the usual laws of physics behave in constrained ways. Faster than light travel is simply not possible. Therefore we ask... how are you here?"
The astronauts appeared stunned, and turned to speak to each other. After a short period of time, the commander again stepped forward.
"My apologies, Speaker, but this explains a great many things. Namely, that we were never visited despite our many greetings broadcast into the cosmos. That we struggled to produce a system with the necessary power to propell us vast distances, despite the mathematics saying it was possible."
"Indeed, the dead zone acts as a speed barrier. The power required to pass this barrier would be astronomical, even for ourselves. So how did you do it?"
"We developed a drive that effectively... shifts us. Space is folded around the craft, then we are simply accelerated through the field. As space is folded around the craft, there is nothing to prohibit our acceleration, and no forces are acted upon the craft, allowing us to withstand the speeds."
This caused a stir among the species present, many voices called out, the automatic translators failing to keep up. The Speaker turned to their scientific advisors, of which each was entirely stunned by the sheer amount of science and mathematics required for such an achievement. The Speaker once again lifted the gravel and called for silence.
"How do you propel yourselves without the gravitational forces of space? How do you leave your planet without space to travel through?"
"Our vessels are powered by chemical rocket boosters, which launch us from our planet. The same principles apply in phase space, which can only be used in orbit to avoid warping our planet's own gravitational sphere. Each maneuver is calculated to make effective use of our fuel. Is this not true of the rest of the galaxy?"
With this the multitude of species could not remain silent, and the sounds of the many voices became entirely uncontrollable.
This marked the emergence of Humanity, a species of remarkable engineers, scientists and mathematicians the known galaxy had never seen before. For the galaxy in the living space had never had to produce such technologies, each achieving space flight as simply as they produced the wheel, never requiring the advanced mathematical equations Humanity had needed simply to reach their own moon.
Humanity had crawled from the depths of a dark, restricted space.
They had ventured down the road not travelled.
And they arrived in the light. | As Kovak’s guard shift rolled into it’s final hour, he won both his third hand of cards and fifty credits off of Raka.
Somewhere in between Raka handing over the cash, a scowl slashed across her face, and Kovak lighting another smoke, the alarm started to sound.
“Fuck.” He jolted up, knocking the table and spilling drinks over the cards.
Raka jumped up too. She was faster on her feet—or maybe she just wasn’t as drunk as him—and reaches the monitor first. “A ship is incoming,” she said.
“So deny them landing—we don’t have anything scheduled to come until noon tomorrow.”
“No—it’s *incoming*. From the Dead Zone. The landing sequences has already started.”
Kovak swore. Up here in the Northern Guard, sandwiched between the edge of the Dead Zone and the planet Suter—which was scarcely more than an iced-over husk with a mercury mine—nothing ever came to their door step. A Northern Guard assignment was a punishment, reserved for the recruits who either barely passed the academy or the ones who needed some shit to knocked them down a few pegs before they got an semi respectable assignment.
While Raka fell firmly into the later category(she was the best marksman Kovak had ever seen, but she’d been an unbearable brat when she’d first arrived) Kovak knew he fell into the former. He wasn’t cut out to be a guard. He’d made his peace with that years ago. In all honesty, a northern posting was a blessing—it kept him out of the action. Four of his five years here had already passed without incident. One more and he’d be free to fuck off to somewhere warm and pleasant.
He hated action. He wasn’t cut out for that shit. “What should we do?” he asked Raka.
She shot him a sour look. “You’re the senior guard tonight.”
Kovak’s gut rolled with the alcohol as he crossed over to get a glimpse of the monitor. “Nothing was scheduled to land,” he muttered. “Just the new crew for the mines tomorrow.”
“Well something isn’t just coming—it’s already fucking here.”
Kovak pressed his palms to his face. “I dunno. Open a channel. Make contact.”
“Yes sir,” Raka grumbled and flipped the switches.
She cleared her throat and picked up the transmitter. “This is Northern Guard Suter-XA3 to unidentified craft. State your permit number and vessel name.”
Only static came through.
Kovak swore under his breath. He needed to sober up. He needed to do *something*. This wasn’t good.
Raka repeated her statement. “If you do not answer, we will be forced to take defensive measures.”
As rusty and unused as Kovak’s training was, it kicked in enough for him to sound the alarm. The rest of the Northern Guard would be woken from their sleep and ready to respond within minutes.
Through the communicator, only static sounded again.
Raka looked at him. “What’s the next move?”
The commander wasn’t here yet. Probably wouldn’t be for a while—she was as bad as the rest of them, drunk half the time and barely able to keep a schedule.
“I dunno.” Kovak frowned. “You warned them, you know.”
“Should I fire?” Raka’s eyes flicked over to the switch for the missiles. “We don’t know who they are. They won’t declare themselves. And it’s not like they’re sending a distress signal.”
Kovak wanted to protest. They didn’t know who this ship belonged too. The Dead Zone was supposed to be silent; every kid heard the legends of the grotesque and feral monsters that dwelled in that darkness. There had to be some truth to those stories. What would they be welcoming if they let them land?
“Declare your intentions or we will take defensive measures,” Raka warned again.
And, once more, there was no reply.
“We have to fire,” she said to him, her lips thin and expression harsh. “They pose a threat.”
“Maybe we should wait for the commander...”
“And let our post get overrun? No.” Raka stood and strode over to the missiles. “We need to do this.”
Kovak took a sharp breath. They needed two to fire the missiles. And if it was any other ship coming up on a guard post, they’d do the same. It was a universal rule to not fuck with the Guards. They were the line between order and chaos. Anyone who tempted them knew the consequences. “Alright,” he muttered.
Together, they turned the keys. Together, they fired the missiles.
Kovak watched on the radar. The missile would intercept the ship right as it docked.
The transmitter crinkled with static once more.
This time, though, something came through. “Hello,” a smooth and strange voice said. “We are humans. We come in peace in the name of exploration and—“
The transmission cut off.
Kovak swallowed, his throat dry. The missiles met their target.
Raka seemed nonplused as she crossed over to the table on the other side of the room. She swept up the cards, dumped the smokes and liquor and food into a bin, and wiped off the surface. They’d be in trouble if they knew they were gambling and impaired, despite the fact everyone else did the same. “Humans,” she said without meeting his eyes.
“I don’t remember them in the guidebook.”
“Neither do I,” Raka admitted.
Kovak took the trash bin and dumped the evidence of their mistakes in the incinerator. “What did we do?” His voice shook and his limbs felt as if they were lined with lead.
“I don’t know.”
“I think we fucked up.”
Raka looked at him, and, for the first time in the year she’d been there, he saw her as her age. A scared and stubborn kid, only just of age. Hell, he was only a few years older. Why had this come down to them?
There were times in life, Kovak mused, where one made a decision without knowing the real weight that choice held.
Other times, one made a choice in a moment and knew exactly what they were doing. They made a decision and knew, right then, that their life would never be the same.
This was one of those times. There’d be no going back after this. Yet Kovak asked the question all the same. “Should we run?”
Raka closed her eyes and nodded. “Yeah. I think we should.”
Kovak didn’t think—he only moved. He’d have to unpack it all once they were in the escape pod, once they were hurtling toward the icy husk of a world that was Suter.
---
r/liswrites | 2021-01-09T11:57:45 | 2021-01-09T11:40:48 | 2,685 | 149 |
[WP] A person's superpowers emerge during- and relate to- a highly stressful moment in their life. Your brother nearly drowned, and as a result could shape water to his will. A classmate fell from a high balcony, and ended up learning to fly. You? You just got your powers last night. | I don't want to go to school...
Perhaps I can get away with not telling anyone? No, they'll be asking as the months go by; "You know what it is yet?"
I don't know how I'm going to answer. Why couldn't I be more careful? This is just embarrassing. My best mate can read minds anyway... I'm done for.
I'm going to be the laughing stock of the town, and all I had to do was be normal. Just chew my food properly. Maybe if I create another high stress situation it'll change? No, you know it doesn't work like that, stop. Think. Okay, the power of regurgitation? Jesus Christ, you're an idiot.
There's no way this can be cool. This is it, forever. This is my calling, my special ability, I can voluntarily bring up any food I've eaten, whole.
Choking is terrifying, the panic just overwhelmed me alright? | *Terror. Drowning in it. Feeling your legs and arms and hands tremble uncontrollably. Feeling your lips ready to cry, feeling that icy iron hand of fear grasping your soul. Begging to be allowed to scream. Only to have the hand of a man over your mouth, shutting you up.*
*Hardly being able to breath through your nose, pleading for a broader gap. Fighting, struggling, without ever saving yourself. And when you finally give up, paralyzed by terror and with tears in your eyes, when you give in to the trembling, the man will have won.*
*And he will do whatever he well wants with you. And you won't make a sound, for you will have been broken.*
*And you will lie in bed, long after he's gone, crying. Grieving for an innocence sacrificed at the altar of abuse, to a cruel, sadistic God...*
I darted up from the bed, screaming "NO". Abel, startled from his bed next to me, turned to look.
" Vania, what the fu-"
He freezes. His eyes go dim. His muscles contract, I can see it below his night gown. Without warning, he begins trembling. A tremble I knew all too well.
It was the tremble of absolute, shattering horror. The fear of expectation, knowing exactly what torturous fate awaits you, yet it delaying only by the whim of a torturer.
**Your** torturer. Your very own devil. And the once homely room becomes a dungeon, of horrors no-one but **you** will ever see.
I became painfully aware that his terror was my doing. Immediately, I tried to make it stop. I didn't want to hurt my brother. He was just trying to help.
Like an obedient dog, whatever horrors I had unleashed upon Abel's mind retreated back to me. Abel fell back, on his bed, and came to his senses. With cold sweat running down his spine, he glared at me.
**What was that, Vania? What the hell was that?"**
Gradually understanding myself, I nodded slowly. "My newly acquired power, Abel."
My voice felt different. Soft, but with an underlying harshness. It wasn't the first time I dreamt about that night. Many a time before had I felt that man's hands on me, the rough rope flay my wrists. That piece of cloth in my mouth, stopping my cries from calling for help...
And the sheer terror. Unfiltered, raw, grim. Unending. Constant. A fear that never, in all my life, will go away.
I realised, belatedly, that I was crying again. Abel came close to me reluctantly. He sat by me, and put a tender arm around my shoulders. I flinched at his touch, but he didn't move away.
"Is... *that*, why you moved back in with me?" I nod positively, unable to speak through my sobs.
Abel pulled me towards him, and, unwillingly at first, I leaned on his chest and cried. He simply hugged me, with trembling arms, and pressed me against his body.
"It's gonna be okay. Calm down, it's all over now..."
It wasn't over. Powers have influence over their master. Every time Abel controlled the water, a small portion of that feeling of drowning returned. And every time I raised a wall of horror, from then on, a part of my own trauma returned.
I would never be free of my fear. I couldn't fight it, just as though Abel couldn't fight it that very night. I couldn't escape, just like he couldn't.
I was trapped. And that, for all intents and purposes, was *horrifying*... | 2021-04-01T02:44:08 | 2021-03-31T22:15:25 | 67 | 43 |
[WP] During a scuffle a superhero and villain find themselves handcuffed together with power cancelling cuffs. The hero is shocked when the authorities take the opportunity to try to grab both of them. Now on the run they must work together while the villain tells them a few home truths. |
“I never thought I would live to see Purple Pillar out of breath!” Starch Mask said with a laugh not joined this time by gruesome smile folds in the cloth draped over his face. “How’s it feel to be huffing it by foot down here with the rest of us.”
“It’s not great,” The panting muscle-bound superhero said, struggling to run with the power-canceling handcuffs binding the two to each other. “We have to get this accursed thing off of us. Why were the police about to arrest me, too?”
“Corruption, hit piece in the news, you were looking into something they didn’t like, could have been a hundred things,” Starch mask said, untying the tighter parts of his straight jacket that weren’t helping him at all in his current state. “It’s not the cut and dry good and evil system out there you heroes seem to think it is. You just don’t notice until it's you the system is fucking over.”
“Nonsense,” Purple Pillar said as he struggled to lift one of the garage doors on the side of the building. “Hold on, I need help with this.”
Starch Mask heaved as hard as he could and the pair finally managed to lift the door up. “God, why is this so heavy?”
“It’s bullet and blast proof. It’s never been a problem before,” the man in Purple spandex said, revealing an even more garish purple two-seater parked inside.
“Wow, that’s the ugliest car I’ve ever seen,” Starch Mask laughed as the unlikely duo coordinated how to get into the vehicle. He was on the left of their alignment and ended up in the driver’s seat. “Why does a flyer like you even need a car?”
“It was a gift after I saved the auto plant from Straight Fire a couple of years ago. It was this whole thing with a ribbon-cutting that they didn’t clear it with me before but I had to accept it.”
“Alright, well it handles nicely, at least,” Starch mask said as he pulled out into the road.
“Any plans where to go?” Purple Pillar tried and failed to activate the Pillar-shaped phone in the dashboard.
“Yes, I do,” the villain said, “but don’t say you don’t owe me one.” After a short drive, Starch Mask drove over a line of traffic cones to suddenly be surrounded by people just past the finish line of the tenth annual cancer awareness walk. Cameras flashes blurred into each other and walkers began cheering and tapping the purple car. “This has got to be the most public part of the city right now. Whatever move they’re trying to make on you, they wouldn’t risk it here. Now, come on, let's get out of this thing.”
The two awkwardly struggled out of the vehicle as the crowd cheered. “It’s the Purple Pillar, he’s caught Starch Mask!” a girl with an ice cream cone yelled as she hopped up and down.
The police carefully removed the cuffs from Purple Pillar who immediately began hovering just off the ground.
“I suggest you don’t let them catch you off guard again!” the masked villain called up as he let the officer handcuff his other arm.
“Why did you help me?” Purple Pillar asked in a whisper through his magazine cover smile.
“You’re not my enemy, you’re just in my way from time to time.” In one smooth motion, Starch Mask headbutted the officer behind him, grabbed a nearby flag off its pole, and tucked it under the cuffs. The cuffs clinked to the ground as the flag of Harinburg city caught a breeze, creases looking like the outline of a laughing man, before rising higher and out of sight. The crowd below gasped except for the strongest man alive who seemed lost in contemplation.
\\---
Thanks for reading.
If you liked this, check out /r/surinical to see more of my prompt responses and other writing. | # Bargain Bin Superheroes
(Part 1: Fall Girl v.s. Her Own Dumb Mom)
(Note: Bargain Bin Superheroes is episodic; each part is self-contained. This story can be enjoyed without reading the previous sections.)
**Without access to ghostform, getting into the family hideout was trickier.** My daughter had redecorated since I'd last been down there, sealing off all the entrances and exits except for the ventilation system. I swore over the rising sound of sirens, then ran towards the back.
"Hey!" Janus—or Janice, as I'd called her when she was born, she had no creativity when it came to 'secret' names—snapped from under her two-faced mask. Even though she was trying to be brave, she clearly was unnerved by the fact that we were right at her house. "Where the hell do you think you're taking us?"
Thankfully, my voice distortion was perfectly mundane hardware. Janice had no idea she was talking to her mother when I said, "Somewhere safe."
I opened the top of our septic tank, and Janice instinctively recoiled; I just tugged her forwards. "Wait!" she said. "They have cameras on the streets; they'll see where we went!"
I shook my head. "It'll take them two hours, minimum, to get permission to trawl through those tapes; I can get them altered in that time."
Janice sighed. "Right. Supervillain." She clenched her fists and then, as I began to climb down, awkwardly descended into the septic tank with me. She gagged a little on the scent, but offered no complaint otherwise. If nothing else, I didn't raise my kids spoiled.
On the opposite wall of where the solids and the liquids separated, there was a large, grimy door which was definitely not septic tank standard. I pulled it open and crawled through.
"...how long have you known about this?" Janice asked?
"Hm?"
"Oh, don't play coy with me. I'm sure you have a hideout of your own somewhere—all the places in the city and you choose *this* one?" She gestured at her home. "Really? What kind of message are you trying to send, here? Is—is this a threat? Are you going to go after my family if I keep fighting you?"
I sighed, then turned off the voice modulator. "Kid, I may be many things, but I'm not suicidal."
Janice gasped. "*Mom*?"
"Talk in a moment. You bricked over this damn tunnel when you moved in, but fortunately, your grandpa didn't raise a quitter." True to my word, the tunnel ended in a freshly-laid brick wall; of course, brickwork by a nineteen-year-old superhero with little to no experience in the subject was no match for a woman who'd spent twenty years as a superhero and fifteen as a supervillain. Even without powers, I simply kicked it twice and the bricks fell inwards.
Into the family hideout.
It wasn't much to look at; Janice hadn't discovered most of the really good parts yet, thanks to her bricking up the main entrance. I was sure she'd bumble into something with ghostform one of these days, though. Just a small stone room with some boxes of supplies in one corner and a television in the other.
Stinking, the two of us slumped down in the middle of the room. I took off my mask, revealing my familiar face; after a moment, Janice took off hers.
"Mom," Janice asked carefully, "I mean this with the utmost respect, but what the *hell* are you doing?!"
I chuckled ruefully. "Alright, alright, calm down."
"I've *seen* what the Blind Eye has done on television. You've *killed* people for—"
"Hold it, buckaroo," I said. "I think you'll find that the list of crimes the Blind Eye has done amount to some minor property damage and trespassing. The rest is propaganda I deliberately set into motion. I'm not really a supervillain, not in the sense that the big-timers are."
Janice frowned. "Then... why act like one?"
I grimaced. "So that you can eventually defeat me."
Janice blinked. "...what?"
"Superhumans... well, you either get under the aegis of one of the big Heroic Corporations, or you get legally pressured into living your life in chains. There really isn't any in-between. But... because of that, *everyone* wants to be a hero. More people want to be heroes than there are villains to fight. It's a simple supply and demand problem. So..." I winked. "Me and a few old-timers got together when we saw the way the wind was blowing. And we... upped the demand."
"By... pretending to be a villain?"
"By making people *panic* about supervillains!" I cheerfully said. "And then letting our sons and daughters and everything in between fight us off. You get a key to the city and a kind reference for the Heroic Corporations, and we get to watch our kids *not* have to be permanently shackled and under watch. Win-win."
"...I thought I was... fighting real crime. Helping people," Janice mumbled.
I looked down at her. She hadn't removed her mask, but she was... slumped.
I sighed. "I'm doing this so that you have the *chance* to fight real crime. Okay? I wouldn't do this if it wasn't what's best for you."
"The whole *point* of being a hero is that I put what's best for everyone over what's best for me!" Janice snapped, standing up. Our cuffs clinked, and she looked at them, surprised.
"And the whole point of being your mother is that I put what's best for you over what's best for everyone else. Even me." I squeezed her arm. "Come on, kiddo. Let's go get the angle grinder. Momma's still got a few tricks to show you about getting out of handcuffs."
Janice pressed her lips together, biting back a response.
Then she sighed and followed me as I kicked through another one of her clumsy walls.
​
A.N.
I'm trying something new! "Bargain Bin Superheroes" will be an episodic story where each part is inspired by a writing prompt that catches my eye. Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mhzat1/bargin_bin_superheroes_masterpost/) for more information. | 2021-04-01T07:59:00 | 2021-04-01T07:42:00 | 239 | 61 |
[WP] You have the ability to see heart-strings. You can see the connections that people have with each other. Each connection appears to be a colored line running from one person's heart to another. The colors, thickness, and texture of the line determine the strength and type of connection.
Based off of [this](https://www.reddit.com/r/godtiersuperpowers/comments/nn1e36/you_can_see_heartstrings/) thread, where people keep asking me for a writing prompt. | “Dinner’s ready,” I called, as I began dishing the pasta onto the four plates. The steam rose up toward the ceiling in hoary ribbons.
I put the pan back on the stove and wiped my hands on the kitchen towel, pouring two glasses of wine. I felt the warm, familiar hands of my wife, Jenny, as she came up from behind and wrapped me in a loving embrace. She leaned her head against my back and took a deep breath.
“Dinner looks great, hon. Thank you.”
I finished pouring the wine and corked the bottle. I turned and handed her one of the glasses.
Looking at her was like taking in pure oxygen, after all these years, it made me dizzy. Her deep blue eyes stared at me from above her petite nose, seeing me clearly as she always had. Ever since we fell in love so long ago.
Our string had never faded, never dulled. I saw it now, quivering between us. A thick crimson pulse, like a healthy flowing artery. Keeping that string alive, that love strong, was not easy and we worked at it every day.
I pulled her close, wrapping one hand around her waist. Her soft blond hair fell forward like bird wings.
“Cheers,” I said, tapping my glass against hers.
“For what?” she asked in her high, sweet voice, biting her lip a little.
“For this,” I said, motioning with my glass around our house. “All of this.”
She let out a little laugh, and I leaned forward and kissed her. Her warm lips opened to mine. She still tasted the same after all these years.
“Gross,” a voice said from the hallway.
We both turned and looked at our daughter, Becky. She walked past us and to the table, sitting down.
“I told James,” she said, grabbing a piece of garlic bread. “But he said he’s not eating tonight.”
I looked at Jenny and she frowned.
“Don’t worry. I’ll go talk to him,” I said, giving her my wine glass and strolling across the house to James’ room. Along the walls was pictures of our children. It wasn’t intentional, but the pictures were almost chronological and everything I stepped through the hallway it was like going back in time. Near his door was a picture of him in overalls, a stuffed rabbit in his hands. He was only a baby. I remember my string being so filled with love for him back then I was afraid it’d strangle him.
I knocked gently, pressing my ear to the door. There was no response. I knocked again, louder.
“What do you want?” the words came through the hollow wooden door with a screech of annoyance.
I opened the door slowly and spoke through the crack. “Hey bud, it’s dinner time.”
“I’m not hungry.”
I pushed the door open a little more, stepping slightly into my James’ room.
The room was dark, the blinds were closed. There was a ghoulish glow pouring down from his monitor, down onto his bed where he was laying, one arm draped over his face, his nose in the pit of his elbow.
“Everything okay?” I asked him, surveying his room, and resisting an urge to talk to him about the mess of clothes and trash.
“I’m just not hungry,” he said.
“Well how about you come and just try and eat something? Alright?”
He looked up at me. His eyes were swollen and red as though he had been crying. In the dark glow I saw the son I remembered from long ago. The child on the wall. The one who wanted nothing more than to climb on my lap and play and wrestle. But the memory was gone, fading away like a dream, replaced again by my teenage son’s stone face. His angry, tortured eyes.
“Fine,” he said, bolting out of bed and stomping past me.
I moved out of the way and let him through. I watched as he moved down the dimly lit hall. The string between us was red—there was love there, always had been—but now great sick patches of black had grown like lesions. And no matter what, I felt like I couldn’t stop them from growing.
r/CataclysmicRhythmic | # Bargain Bin Superheroes
(Arc 4, Part ?: Jemma v.s. The Snatchers)(Note: Bargain Bin Superheroes is episodic; each part is self-contained. This story can be enjoyed without reading the previous sections.)
**Jemma's eighth-grade science teacher had explained gravity to her like this:** Space was like a great big cloth, and objects dropped on the weave of space-time could distort it. Get a large enough object, and it would form a dent deep enough that nothing that entered it could ever escape. A black hole. Jemma had always wondered what that would look like up close.
As Jemma pondered the distorted heartstrings around her, a part of her idly registered that she didn't have to wonder anymore.
It was a subtle thing, the way the infinite spiderwebs drifted. Like foam circling a drain, languorous at first, then speeding up as they drew closer to the source of the disruption. Jemma ignored the panicked shouts from the hunched-over passerby as she jogged through the trash-strewn streets of Sacrament. She barely saw them, anyway; the heart-strings were getting thicker, hundreds of them converging on a single spot.
She stopped cold inches before she would have bashed her face on a crumbling concrete wall. The remains of some office cubicle. Ever since Mayor Clara had left the city in disgrace, anarchy had reigned in Sacrament. Federal troops had managed to restore some semblance of order during the day—but at night, Jemma huddled in her room, watching purple ichor stain the heart-strings that connected the people of Sacrament.
She'd watched too many strings snap, or dangle loose, one end snuffed from existence. She had to do *something* about what was left of the city.
"Little girl," a voice said behind her, and Jemma spun, eyes wide. An old woman who reeked of smoke gave her a gimlet stare. "Are you lost?"
Jemma shook her head warily. From nothing, a needle-thin line of light connected their hearts, then thickened, forming a tenuous black thread. Animosity. This woman meant her harm. "I know exactly where I'm going," she said. *Admittedly, not what I'll find when I get there,* she mentally added.
"It's not safe for a girl like you to wander out here alone," the woman continued, as if she hadn't heard her. Jemma looked around, but there were no strings between her and the huddled pedestrians—probably just trying to find food for the day, or maybe making their way to one of the overcrowded shelters. "There are people who'd pay good money for kids like you."
"HELP!" Jemma shouted. Thin, ephemeral connections formed between her and everyone in earshot—but they faded after an instant. They were too scared of the woman, and who wouldn't be? Jemma was far from the only person with superpowers—the woman could have held within her the power to level buildings with a wave of her hand. The old woman gave Jemma a gimlet stare and surged forward; Jemma frantically blocked as the woman went for her throat. None of the Federal forces were in sight—Jemma thought frantically. The man on the corner—no, he was practically being pulled along by the golden thread connecting him to his lover; Jemma wasn't overcoming that force. The kid she could sense watching her from the trash heap—ah, he was linked to the old woman, through transparent, shimmering fear. He would be of no help, not unless she could invert that bond. She looked around frantically until she saw what she'd been looking for—a girl whose threads were slowly dissolving from the ends in. Fresh cuts.
"You in the black suit!" she yelled desperately. The girl flinched. "Please! I know you've lost people—I know you're in pain—but you can save someone else from that pain if you *help me*!"
Desperately, Jemma saw a flimsy, silver thread of camaraderie fly from her heart to the girl's.
It landed on her back and phased through her skin.
The girl clenched her fists.
And then she spun around.
"Two for one?" The woman said, turning. "I didn't expeaAAAAAAAAAARRRGH!"
Halfway through the woman's sentence, the little girl struck like a snake, tapping the woman on her arm. What happened next, Jemma barely made sense of—a heartstring colored with stars and galaxies surged from the girl to the woman, striking her skull instead of her head, and vanished in an instant, leaving the woman on the floor, clutching her temples and twitching.
Jemma was far from the only person with superpowers. As it turned out, some of them worked for the good guys too.
Jemma stepped back and gave her savior an appraising look. "...Thank you," she said. "I don't know who you've lost, but..."
"No. Thank *you*," the girl said back. She hesitated, then added, "I shouldn't have needed a... reminder... of what I'd lost, to be moved to help." She held out a hand, and the silver thread between them gleamed. "You can call me Awe."
"Jemma." They shook hands. "What... what did you do to her?"
"Something that won't last long." Awe gave the woman a disdainful look. "Longer for her than for others, but... my power isn't meant to be used as a weapon, not exactly. You said you were going somewhere." Awe pressed her lips together. "I could use someone who knows what they're doing."
"We could use the Mayor back," Jemma muttered.
Awe smiled. "That we could."
"I don't have her, but I have the next best thing. Something's pulling on the heartstrings of everyone in the city." Awe cocked her head curiously at the word 'heartstrings', but made no further comment. "I want to find out what."
"Explain on the move." Awe turned around, leaving the twitching woman behind. "We need to get out of her before she wakes up."
Jemma walked after the girl named Awe, the silver thread between them strengthening with every step.
A.N.
I have returned from my month-long hiatus! This story is short, but that's because I'm still quite exhausted from the event which burnt me out in the first place. "Bargain Bin Superheroes" is an episodic story where each part is inspired by a writing prompt that catches my eye. Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mhzat1/bargin_bin_superheroes_masterpost/) for the rest of the story, and subscribe to r/bubblewriters for more. If you have any feedback, please leave it below. As always, I had fun writing this, and I hope you have a good day. | 2021-05-28T16:29:14 | 2021-05-28T16:04:22 | 61 | 26 |
[WP] You're living in a world where superpowers exist, and you're the most dangerous individual of all. Your power? You project an aura where all the laws of reality/normality assert themselves. You are the anti-super | What happens when the unstoppable force meets the immovable object? They surrender.
\-Superman
Day 4
I look towards the horizon. Just beyond my power limit, I see more heroes converging. Dawn's arriving on day 4 since the news got out that I am the last anti, and the day the only other anti super besides me died. There used to be more of us, but no one likes being forced to be average again. The only reason I survived this long was that I chose to keep a low profile and live a modest life.
Most of my comrades were enlisted in various government agencies. They were the ultimate contingency plan for leaders in a super world. However, we were deemed obsolete after the creation of anti-weapons. It didn't take long for our eradication to begin without protection from the governments we once served. Within 3 yrs there were only 30 of us. Our population had been brought down to 1% of what it had been at my birth.
I became our leader at that time as I was the only one that had managed to evade ever being targetted. It became critical to teach the rest of my people to live quietly and fight viciously. Unfortunately, this concept was too foreign to them, and so they failed. It was less than a year before we were down to two.
Suddenly, a tremor makes the ground shake beneath me. I scan the surrounding desert for the perpetrator for a moment before spotting her. She makes it clear that she's a fledging elemental. All her moves are so exaggerated, it takes no effort to counter them. I could extend further, inform her that she's in my range, but I won't. I learned long ago that mercy is a quick path to death for an anti. Instead, I choose to wait until every rock, tremor, and gust of wind almost finds me before extinguishing the power flow.
Soon the girl starts to show signs of tiring. Sand is my preference for that. It takes more effort to control than dirt, like water. It's also much denser than water, making it require more effort ounce for ounce. Most elementals do not master it for those reasons. I can't help but smirk as she starts to drag a stone from the depths of the sand and raises it above her head. That was a fatal mistake.
All at once, I extinguish the power around me in a circle large enough to engulf her. She doesn't have time to scream before there's a heavy thud from the stone returning to earth. There was no sickening crunch either, just a heavy thud. No trace of the fledging left to show. This just makes me smile more. I don't like a mess.
A few more random fledglings approached me that day, some alone, some in groups. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to dispatch them all as neatly as the first. The older ones did not dare to come within 3 miles of me. They remembered what it was like sparring with us. They understood that I'd remained alive the longest for a reason.
They don't know it, but part of the reason I have endured so well is that my family was exceptionally blessed with power. I was the youngest of 6 children. Each was gifted from a unique power field from the next, me being the only anti. Our parents believed it was in our best interests to hone our skills as early as possible. As such, I grew up sparring with an elemental, a morph, a mentalist, an athletic, and a magician. We mastered our powers together. I have yet to encounter a scenario that we hadn't simulated before reaching the age of 18.
I scanned the horizon as the sun began to dip behind distant peaks. It had been quiet for a while now. Time to move away from this mess. It felt like that's what I'd been doing my whole life. I wondered if anyone had noticed my other secret as I trudged the rapidly cooling sands. I've been experimenting for years now and realized something about my powers. As my brethren were being irradicated, my power steadily increased. When my last anti-sister died, it doubled.
I had decided to wait until tomorrow to see if there were any limitations now. This morning I pushed a thin tendril of anti-power around the planet, creating a ring of regular people around the world for one minute. It didn't feel like increasing its size would be a challenge. Nor was maintaining it. I'm eager for the morning. It's time for the world to face the consequences of the genocide of my people.
Day 5
It worked
​
Edit: About 20 spaces
Edit 2: Tremor is not a verb.
Edit 3: I am so grateful for the gold, thank you, stranger! | “Do you remember the first day we met?”
It’s dinnertime in the Century City and I feel like a roast trussed for the meal. I am not a man who wears suits well. Even more so, I am not a man accustomed to candlelit dinners in exclusive restaurants, rented out for the night just for me and my date.
By contrast, she wears the night like a favorite shoe. She wears a short black dress and tall heels, and if she walked away the table even to cross the dining room all her tattoos would’ve begun to glow with her power. Splotches of vibrant color lighting up along both legs, at her shoulder, at her stomach where a prismatic heart peaks through the laces of her dress. The way she looks makes suit feel even tighter.
She doesn’t seem to notice any of that. If I wasn’t the man I was, I’d have thought that might be her superpower.
“Of course,” I say, and she smiles at me. “How could I ever forget almost killing the Painted Witch?”
“First of all, you know I hate that name,” she says, ticking the numbers off on her fingers. “Second of all, you didn’t ‘almost kill me.’ It was just a broken leg, and your arms took far longer to heal anyway. And third—”
I cut in. “And third, it was TWO broken legs and your favorite broom. And then that idiot columnist posted the candids of you falling through the air with a censorship bar that somehow made it look way more scandalous than it was!”
“That would be four things,” she says, mildly, “and none of them were what I was going to say. Third of all, how often does a girl get to be dropped by fate into her man’s arms anyway? It’s the ultimate meet cute.”
I sigh, still uncomfortable but growing less so with every second. “Usually those involve less blood.”
“Then those are usually boring.”
She flashes me a victorious smile as the first course arrives and suddenly I can’t help myself, I’m laughing too hard to keep up the fight.
I’m sitting across from the darling of the city’s tabloids poured into a suit that she swears fits me but I swear would fit a man half my size, and a bespectacled waiter with a French accent has just laid a pizza down in front of me. It sits there on the white tablecloth, the kind of greasy, late night pie only made to sop up beer and fuel regrets, and a blind man could have told you it wasn’t made here.
“Costanza’s?” I say, still laughing. “You rented out Le Provencal and you ordered Costanza’s?”
“It was our first date!” she says, “and besides, you went to all the trouble with the suit, I thought I’d throw you a bone.”
Costanza’s pizza is so bad it’s amazing. Light from the chandelier reflects through our crystal wine goblets, catching in the greasy cheese. The pepperoni is so thick and irregular that it might have been sliced by the slice blind man I’d thought of earlier, and the crust? Whenever you order a crust at Costanza’s you get the thick crust, preferences be damned.
In short, I love it. From the first bite I feel more at home than I’d ever thought possible when we pulled up to this place.
“I think the Maître D’ might have an aneurysm,” she says when she went back for her second slice. I was already well into my third.
The man stood in the corner, his ramrod straight politeness trying and failing to disguise horror. I looked down, realizing how much grease I was getting on the tablecloth. “Tell you what,” I say, “if he does I’d run for the exit. I think I can make it to the parking lot in about ten seconds.”
“That might be enough time to save him,” she said.
“And then he’ll get sell another Painted Witch story to the tabloids!”
“Honey,” she deadpanned, “I swear to god if you call me that one more time on our anniversary I’m going to crack your anti-super powers and turn you into a frog. Do you understand me?”
“Yes dear,” I say.
“My name please.”
“Erin.”
And we continue on.
There’s an incredible joy in breaking the rules. Before I’d met her, Erin, the Painted Witch, the girl who broke both my arms as a meet cute, I’d never known that fact. I’d been as boring as boring came, perhaps a foreshadowing of the powers I would one day manifest.
Now I’m still boring, but I’m sensationally boring. I’m a man so boring that the simple gravity of my presence shuts off super powers all around me. I’m a man so boring that when I go to *Le Provencal* I want a trashy late night pizza. I’m a man so boring that when a girl who could reshape reality at a word wanted a safe, quiet night off she remembered me.
Now two years later here we are over the same pizza, bones mended, souls healed. I can get sappy just thinking about it.
“Thanks for tonight,” I say when we finish off the last of the pizza.
She smiles, her lips a greasy mess that the napkin smudges more than solves. “Thanks for the past two years,” she says. “Before I met you, I never thought how nice it could be to just be normal!”
“Oh, is this normal?” I gesture around to the empty restaurant, the almost apoplectic Maître D’.
“Hey! You’ve got to let me have some magic!”
And I laugh again, because I do. “So, is there dessert?” I ask.
“You’re goddamn right there’s dessert.” She clinks her unused fork against her glass. After a moment a pair of waiters bearing covered trays leave the backroom. They set them down in front of us, removing the lids at a nod.
Ice cream sandwiches sit on top of gold filigreed trays. They couldn’t have cost more than a dollar each.
“My compliments to the chef,” I say. Then I tuck my napkin into my collar, pick up my knife and fork, and try to have manners for the first time that night.
The Maître D’ collapses to the floor, his head making a sick cracking noise as it bounces. “Shit, catch you at home!” I shout as I spring up from the table, ice cream sandwich in hand.
I’m to the doors in five seconds, and when I look back Erin is already beside him, her tattoos glowing, the hum and petrichor freshness of green magic in the air.
“See you at home,” I whisper again, and I’m gone.
I make it to the parking lot in ten seconds. Then I pull the rough broomstick I’d made her out of the trunk, lean it against the door, and head for home.
r/TurningtoWords | 2021-06-24T19:59:37 | 2021-06-24T19:34:22 | 775 | 179 |
[WP] You are a medieval princess that can turn into a dragon at will, and you also tend to spend most of your time dressing up and doing jobs under the guise of a knight. Through a complex series of complex scenarios, you are hired to save yourself, from yourself. | Looking back on it, Brianne wondered how she could have ever managed to get herself into such a ridiculous situation. It had started as an innocent ploy: a princess born with the power of shape-shifting, she was sheltered for most of her life, as her father worried she would be feared or persecuted for who she was. It was an understandable concern; many people faced hardships born from innate qualities they couldn't control, but the thing was, she didn't hate herself, or her situation.
It was a wonderful feeling, throwing off her dress, leaping from the window of her tower, and transforming in midair so that the wind below crashed against her wings as she beat them fiercely through the air.
She would soar for hours on end, venturing to new places every time. Once or twice she even glided to a neighbouring kingdom just to spook the princess Ariadne, whom she had heard made a snide remark about her absence from the annual Princess's Ball (though if anyone asked, that was another sapphire-scaled, crystal-horned dragon). The problem began when the guards noticed a strange pattern. The periodic appearances of this odd blue dragon instilled fear in the hearts of many villagers, but the most worrisome aspect of the situation was that it usually showed up at a specific time of day, and every time it did, the Princess Brianne mysteriously went missing from her tower.
She would reappear hours later, emerging from the depths of the castle in which she claimed she was exploring. But King Bernard, whatever he told the other Kings, knew that his castle wasn't interesting enough to hold the attention of a seventeen year old girl.
There was only one logical conclusion: this dragon was kidnapping his daughter, taking her out of the country, and returning her to the tower when it had finished whatever sick, twisted game it was obviously playing. Though the obvious question to ask would have been why the dragon would think to take the princess and return her rather than simply kill her, King Bernard dutifully ignored it.
"How am I supposed to understand the workings of the mind of a savage beast?" he would ask them each time, when someone brought it up. Whatever reasons lay behind the dragon's bewildering actions, one thing was clear: this creature was a threat, and it needed to be dealt with.
And so began his search for the noble Knight who would be brave enough to face and slay the dragon, and in return be awarded his fair daughter's hand in marriage.
Men from all over the Kingdom came, old, young, handsome and brutal-faced. But though some were highly appealing, she simply didn't want to be weighed down by marriage yet. She was young and restless, she craved adventure and excitement. And none of this would be possible if these men were to succeed. So she took matters into her own hands.
In the midst of the gathered menfolk, she burst into the Royal Hall, clad in shining black and grey armor, fitted with rubies. All talk ceased at once. Men drew back into the corners of the hall as the King rose, looking simultaneously impressed and angry.
"Declare yourself!" he said imperiously.
"I," said Brianne, in the deep, silky voice of her new form, "am — er — Lancel — del... Victory!" she said, inwardly cursing herself. She really should have picked a name before she entered.
"And you, Sir Victory, are here to prove yourself as the Knight I seek to slay the blue dragon?"
"I have nothing to prove," Brianne said. "I am the greatest warrior in the entire Kingdom. None of these men would stand a chance against this beast, only I can slay the creature and free your daughter from her curse."
The hall broke into a storm of incredulous mutters. The men all around glared at her, spitting curses and statements of disbelief and anger. King Bernard, however, was surveying her with interest. It was said that respect was something to be earned, but that was true only for lesser men. True warriors commanded it.
"Very well then," Bernard said, to a collective gasp of surprise. "You sell yourself so well? Prove your worth to me. You have a month to bring me back the head of this dragon."
Brianne bowed. "I look forward to it." And she did. No more stolen hours fighting for a brief period of freedom. Here she was, being given a month all to herself, to go wherever she wanted, wherever she pleased.
King Bernard resumed his seat on the throne, inclining his head to his right. "You see, daughter? I told you I would find the right one."
Her friend Genevra, wearing a bright emerald necklace spelled to make her resemble Princess Brianne, gave a sheepish smile. "I never doubted you father."
She cast a desperate look at Brianne — or Sir Lancel del Victory, as she would now be called — and he winked. He turned and strode out of the room, his armour clattering on the floor. It was going to be a good month indeed. | The tower is the inverse of a regular tower — needled deep into the ground instead of thrusting out of it. It‘s like a giant, spiralled mollusc shell, spindling its way into the earth’s heart.
Now I stand at the ground by the tower’s top, the sky, with its spritz of clouds, hanging perfectly still above me, while an impossible sound echoes up from deep below: the sound of a woman screaming. *Wailing*. The thumping of desperate fists against thick wooden doors. I can’t hear the words — the cries are too muffled, but I can hear the pain.
I stand there listening, unable to move. The screams are amplified by the by the tower’s design in the way a long musical instrument inflates a puff of breath into a melodious roar. Only there’s nothing melodic about the sound of this desperation.
There should only be silence here.
This is the tower I grew up in, many years ago. As a little girl I’d been locked up in a room at its core, where no light could pierce, where no hero could rescue me. The fact that I’d escaped begged a mysterious question: who was trapped in the room beneath the ground now? Who was screaming?
Since escaping I’d taken on the identity of a knight. I wore a helmet and suit of armour and took quests for leisure. Never had I expected to be sent on this quest. To rescue the princess of the inverse tower.
I accepted the quest as I knew it would be easy. The princess — me, unmasked — would turn up in a few weeks time and say the knight freed me. Then I leave. Later, the helmeted knight would turn up for his reward.
So I travelled back to where it all began. I had weeks to kill, after all. Why not go to where I was meant to be — see my old home once more?
​
The screams are like rushing water pouring up the stairs instead of down, defying all sense of gravity. They wash over me in powerful waves, as if trying to push me back.
I must be brave. All my life I’ve tried to be strong, but often failed. I must be brave today.
I remove my helmet and step forward, walking against the screams as if plunging myself against a hurricane, forcing my way down the throat of the white tower, one step at a time.
Slowly, I descend. The world above me becomes a ring of blue. Everything else is dark. Even my hands have become lost in the blackness. If I had to answer who I am right now, I wouldn’t be able to — so disorientating is the dark.
The patch of blue slowly shrinks, and with it my bravery withers. The blue becomes a pinprick of light. And eventually, nothing.
How deep I‘ve burrowed, I do not know. There is no sense of time when everything is dark. It is like being lost inside one’s own head. I feel the cold of the walls against my palms and lower one foot at a time, gingerly, carefully. Afraid to trip, to break my neck.
The thumping on the door is like a drumbeat accompanying the screams. Or like being inside the heart of a great demon, every thump of its existence is like two hands slapping over my ears.
​
Eventually, I reach the door. It shudders in time to the beating of the fist behind it. For a long while, I stand this side, not daring to pull across the latches that lock the woman inside.
I shouldn’t be this frightened. Why am I so scared? I was once that side, after all.
I slide the locks across and step back, allowing the door to swing open at the next beat.
It does so.
​
There is no one at the door.
​
”Hello?” I say.
I step into a small room, a green light pulsating from its corner, reflecting up onto the beige walls.
A woman sits on a sofa in front of a glowing box that hums with static. There is no screaming here. No one thumping.
The woman… *She is me.*
She looks up at me, then back at the box, uninterested in my presence.
“I’ve come to rescue you,” I say, very quietly, uncertain of the words.
She says nothing. There is only silence and the humming.
A fear possesses me. A fear I’ve not experienced since childhood. As if the whole world is cracking open and birthing a creature of pure darkness that will stand, reach out and scoop up the sun itself. It will eat all the light from our world. That is the sense of fear running through me.
“We’ve got to leave this place,” I say. ‘We’ve got to leave — right now.”
She doesn’t move. I walk to her and grab her by the shoulders, rattling her. Trying to make her understand. “Do you hear me? If we don’t, something very bad is going to happen.”
Her eyes don’t meet mine. She drops back on her seat.
The room is a mess. Littered by bottles and bags. The air is stale and rank. There are pictures of her — of me — younger than I am. Not paintings, too accurate to be paintings. She is with a man and a baby in all of them.
“Who are they?” I say.
”Gone,” she says. “They’re gone.”
I can hear the cracking of the world. The rising of the beast. If I let her stay in this place it will clamp its jaws around us.
“I have no choice,” I say. “I’m sorry, but if you stay here, you’ll die. We’ll die.” I grab her and throw her over my shoulders. She doesn’t resist. She flops like a bag of corn on my back.
The way up takes much longer than the way down. The screaming has returned. The knocking — the heartbeat — returns. I think it is our voice, our heartbeat.
The staircase fills with warm, rancid breath as if I am in a beast’s throat. The other me is heavy, and by the time I see a pinch of blue sky, I’m already exhausted. I put her down and catch my breath.
”If we’re going to escape,” I say, “you need to help me. *Please*.”
She stares at me for a while. Then begins crying. “I can’t. Not you. Not myself.”
With everything I’ve got, I heave her up once more, and struggle onwards. The blue light widens.
We burst out of the tower and collapse onto the soil, just as the earth rumbles. A spout of flame follows us, an inferno blasting from the tower’s throat to our side. “Come on!” I say, taking her arm over my shoulders and guiding us away.
Then the whole world rattles as the beast whose throat we were in — the great dragon in the centre of the world — explodes out and leaps into the sky.
“You’ve got to help me,” I say. “We have to run or it will devour us! There’s a valley, not far from here. A thin gorge. If we make it there, the dragon will not be able to follow. It’s too huge to fit.”
She looks at me. Then glances in the air at the dragon — its vast wings blotting out the sky, shrouding us as if we’re deep in another tower.
“It’ll find us again, even if we escape. It always finds us.”
I take her hand. Hold it tight in mine. “At least there can be a next time if we run.”
Her throat rocks as she swallows hard.
The dragon is swooping.
She pulls my arms and together we run. Towards the valley.
We sprint as the dragon‘s roar tears through the fabric of the world. | 2022-04-23T08:04:22 | 2022-04-23T07:38:50 | 402 | 263 |
[WP] A dyslexic child accidentally sends their Christmas list to Satan, surprisingly they get what they wanted but there is a catch. | The smell of gingerbread permeates the entire house. Klara, a young woman is looking at the gentle snow falling outside her window drinking her warm wine while her son sits in front of the warm fire. "Stop chewing on your pencil, and finish your note to Santa!" The little boy bends forward towards the piece of paper laying on the floor and starts scribbling "Dear Satan, I haev been a very niece boy to my mum and all my freinds this year. Plese send me a pantng brush and sum paints so i can becom a famuos artest!..." Once signed and sealed, the child urges his mother to take him to the post office.
On Christmas morning the little boy rushes to the Christmas tree where he finds a shining red package! He tears into the wrapping paper and pulls out a horse hair brush attached to a magnificent mahogany handle, and the most richly colored oil paints, like the ones he had seen at the art supplier's shop in town. The child grabs his new tools and rushes to his room to start on his first masterpiece.
An hour later the boy emerges covered in paint: "Look mum, it's our house with those flower boxes you like in the spring! Klara gives her son a slight smile saying "Oh, Adolf, that is a lovely painting. Maybe one day you'll be as good as that Rosenberg boy next door!" | Alex hugged the wall, fighting back hiccups of horrified fright. Tears were streaming down his cheeks, and his blankets were clutched to his chest between fingers gripping so tight that his knuckles had turned white. He had wet himself, but the uncomfortable moisture building beneath him was his last concern.
*Thump. Thump.*
Heavy footsteps paced from one room to the next, scraping across the hardwood floors. Gruesome sounds; sounds both human and not echoed across the otherwise silent walls. Sickening snaps and cracks followed by gut-wrenching gurgles. Alex was torn between sobbing uncontrollably and making the least noise an 8 year old child can make when frightened for his life.
Without warning, his bedroom door swung open so hard the door flung from the hinges and crashed in to the wall beside him. Alex clutched his blankets up over his head and mouthed a silent scream. Fear had gripped him too tightly to squeak out even the tiniest sound over his ragged and shallow breathing. He panted as he felt himself start to lose control over his bowels, overcome with shame, guilt, remorse, fear, and anxiety.
Then.. Silence. Alex panted and wavered, ever so slowly bringing the covers down. He peeked through the scruffy fabric, only to be greeted by the most unexpected sight he could have imagined; his mother, standing in his doorway, smiling. The same smile she had smiled at him just hours before. Hours before the noises began. Before Alex was too afraid to move from his bed.
"Sweetie, come out here. Your presents are ready." His mother motioned for him, beckoning him from his room.
Alex knew fear, he knew caution, but he also knew imagination. Had it all been in his head? Was all the noise and fear just his overactive imagination? He wriggled uncomfortably, suddenly very aware and very embarrassed to be siting in a puddle of his own urine and excrement. He mumbled something underneath his breath; his voice still hadn't returned to him. His mother sighed and shook her head, turning to walk down the hall.
"Get cleaned up and come out here!" she called, as if nothing at all had happened.
The time it took for Alex to cope with the reality of what he was starting to believe was just a hallucination - or more aptly, his overactive imagination - was certainly no minor consequence. For several moments, Alex wallowed in his own mortal fear and panic, until his heart rate finally subsided. Several awkward and uncomfortable minutes later, he tentatively emerged from his room and in to the silent hallway. His head immediately turned to the living room at the other end, and like an Olympic runner off the start, he sprinted full speed down the hallway and skidded to a sudden stop at what he saw.
From wall to wall, floor to ceiling, everything he could have imagined or wished for lined every shelf, nook, and cranny. Every single item Alex could fit on his exhaustive list of things he wanted was somehow displayed clearly before him in all its wonder. It was enough for him to completely forget the events of the night in his childish wonderment. He scurried over and began to play with all the toys he could get his hands on, trying one and moving on to the next moments later.
Out of the corner of his eye, Alex noticed a small letter sitting on the center of the coffee table, directly in front of the candle-bra illuminating the room with a soft, warm glow. The letter in itself was peculiar; thick, heavy cardstock that shone almost brilliant white even in the dim room. A single "A" printed on the front in a rich red beckoned his attention. As curiosity and children do, he picked up the card and flipped it open to see only one sentence, written across the center of the otherwise blank card, in what seemed to be a smeared red ink..
**NOS OSSOS QVE AQVI ESTAMOS VELOS VOSSOS ESPERAMOS**
It was only as Alex's eyes left the last letter of the page that he noticed the warm, heavy, putrid breath rolling down the nape of his neck.. | 2015-11-19T12:48:22 | 2015-11-19T11:06:26 | 54 | 15 |
[WP] Two men play a game of chess. One can read minds; the other can see the future. | They walked up and took their seats.
They looked at the board.
They looked at each other.
They looked at the board.
Moments passed. Eventually the telepath looked to his opponent and said, "I have the worst fucking migraine right now."
"Me to," said the psychic. "Let's never hang out again."
"Agreed."
They left. | *Literally the first time ever really writing something so please be nice.
They sat at the park and played chess. An old man approached and challenged the "Chess Master", as he called himself. He was apparently and literally a visionary.
The frailest of the two men sat and pierced his eyes into the younger mans forehead. The master payed no attention however and instead his focus was diverted toward the board. In his mind he saw his opponent make his first move.
The pawn moved triumphantly across the board. The younger man smiled and with pride conjured his own returning move in advance.
The smile quickly faded as the glistening image of the white pawn faded away.
"A knight?", the man whispered to himself as he stared into his opponents eyes catching a fleeting smirk past the white beard. The elder continued his obsession with his opponents forehead.
Not once had the vision changed for the sprightly young man and this newfound realisation created a seething rage inside of him. He created another vision in his mind however it was forged by him own will.
In his vision he threw his fist to hit the other man in the centre of the nose, not out of malice, to let of steam. He watched the face distort around his hand before reality snapped back and he continued play. He trembled as the image changed again.
How could he have this power?
This is all I have, is he here to take it away? This is all I'm good for in this depraved world.
He imagined his wife. "Would she be proud of me?" he said to himself. He imagined their faces on that day, it tore into his soul the same as the image always did.
"I'm sorry", the master spoke for the first time. "I need to get some space quickly".
The old man looked up at him. "I don't there is any need for that, try again".
The man calmed his breathing, he wondered what the point of the vision was if it were to change. He ignored every instinct and played by heart without thinking. The game continued for some time until an overbearing thought entered the master's head.
This time the vision was strong and sure. The master saw the white king in checkmate, he was going to win.
"Well played!" said the old man as he started to stand up.
"But we haven't finished!" the master protested.
"I saw all that I needed to know, the belief in your heart that nothing is set in stone." said the old man as he pointed in the distance."There is the nearest flower shop, you'll probably need it. But understand this: you will fail if you follow that power of yours."
The master pictured his family happy in his mind, the vision kept showing him the failure of his endeavor but he forced the curse away. He saw himself walking over to that flower shop regardless. "Wait, how do you know about me?," he asked.
"I don't but I saw enough" the old man smiled.
"You believe too much in those visions you know? The future can always be more than what your mind creates, only action creates certainty so I don't need to see the future like you, only the present."
| 2017-01-19T17:36:57 | 2017-01-19T15:37:46 | 372 | 21 |
[WP] Two men play a game of chess. One can read minds; the other can see the future. | Two men play a game of chess. One can read minds; the other can see the future...
...and they are both blind and deaf.
The only true winner is the audience who stifle guilty giggles as the two fumble with the chess pieces, attempting to make intelligible plays as one man gazes into the future and the second studies the other's mind. | *Literally the first time ever really writing something so please be nice.
They sat at the park and played chess. An old man approached and challenged the "Chess Master", as he called himself. He was apparently and literally a visionary.
The frailest of the two men sat and pierced his eyes into the younger mans forehead. The master payed no attention however and instead his focus was diverted toward the board. In his mind he saw his opponent make his first move.
The pawn moved triumphantly across the board. The younger man smiled and with pride conjured his own returning move in advance.
The smile quickly faded as the glistening image of the white pawn faded away.
"A knight?", the man whispered to himself as he stared into his opponents eyes catching a fleeting smirk past the white beard. The elder continued his obsession with his opponents forehead.
Not once had the vision changed for the sprightly young man and this newfound realisation created a seething rage inside of him. He created another vision in his mind however it was forged by him own will.
In his vision he threw his fist to hit the other man in the centre of the nose, not out of malice, to let of steam. He watched the face distort around his hand before reality snapped back and he continued play. He trembled as the image changed again.
How could he have this power?
This is all I have, is he here to take it away? This is all I'm good for in this depraved world.
He imagined his wife. "Would she be proud of me?" he said to himself. He imagined their faces on that day, it tore into his soul the same as the image always did.
"I'm sorry", the master spoke for the first time. "I need to get some space quickly".
The old man looked up at him. "I don't there is any need for that, try again".
The man calmed his breathing, he wondered what the point of the vision was if it were to change. He ignored every instinct and played by heart without thinking. The game continued for some time until an overbearing thought entered the master's head.
This time the vision was strong and sure. The master saw the white king in checkmate, he was going to win.
"Well played!" said the old man as he started to stand up.
"But we haven't finished!" the master protested.
"I saw all that I needed to know, the belief in your heart that nothing is set in stone." said the old man as he pointed in the distance."There is the nearest flower shop, you'll probably need it. But understand this: you will fail if you follow that power of yours."
The master pictured his family happy in his mind, the vision kept showing him the failure of his endeavor but he forced the curse away. He saw himself walking over to that flower shop regardless. "Wait, how do you know about me?," he asked.
"I don't but I saw enough" the old man smiled.
"You believe too much in those visions you know? The future can always be more than what your mind creates, only action creates certainty so I don't need to see the future like you, only the present."
| 2017-01-19T15:54:25 | 2017-01-19T15:37:46 | 28 | 21 |
[WP] You and a friend that you secretly love make a pact that in 10 years if neither are with someone you two will marry eachother. You spend the next ten years ruining their relationships at any cost. | "I've never had much luck in dating, as I'm sure all of you know."
John nodded somberly, thinking of all his past actions. Did he regret it? Was it all worth it?
"And yet, as I stand here, I realise that there's been one man in my life who has been with me all along. Helped me through the heartbreak, through the highs and the lows. One man that never left my side."
She looked so beautiful. He'd been waiting 10 years - no, far longer than 10 years - for this moment. All his misdeeds, all his plotting and manipulation... it had to have been worth it.
"And that was *you*, John. You were the perfect man for me. It just took me 10 years to realise that. With or without our 'pact', I'm sure we would have ended up together. And now we're going to spend the rest of our life, together."
John tried to smile, but her words hit him like a punch to the gut. Was she saying that he did all of this for nothing? That she would have eventually married him eventually?
He shook his head, absolving himself of it. He was so close now. He'd treat her right, like every other man in her life never had a chance to.
John looked at all the guests. There were so many of them. More than he'd remembered inviting, actually. He scanned over their faces, and many of them seemed familiar. *Very* familiar.
The priest nodded, looking over the wedding. He addressed them all:
"If anyone has any objections, speak now or forever hold your peace."
John heard a rustling in the audience, slight at first, then unmistakable. He turned to see 12 men in total, all standing, all staring directly at him.
And he realised why they looked so familiar. | Hey this is my first time writing here so I apologise if it's rubbish
-
I walked up the dimly lit night street, looking over my shoulder and my hood thrown up. I couldn't be seen. Not now - not when I'm so close.
I arrived at my spot. The end of the street. Past this was a river, with no bridge going across. However, there was a footpath running alongside the river, and a spot there which was marked with a small cross. Several years ago Sam's "special someone" was killed in a car accident. The car had run off the road and crashed straight into the river. Police declared it a suicide. However what they didn't know was why he'd done it.
As only I knew, they had received messages from an anonymous person, who had sent them a video of Sam cheating with another person. This had driven the poor soul demented and eventually drove them to doing it. If you'll pardon the pun.
I sat there, carefully looking around, wondering if she'd be here. I couldn't imagine why she wouldn't be. She did promise.
Despite my worries I was reassured when I saw a familiar car pull up, and Sarah, the woman I spoke of, stepped out.
"I have loved you for a million years Sarah" I said, as she walked up to me.
Sarah looked confused. "What are you doing in this part of town?"
"Well Sam once had a...romantic partner..." I answered.
"They only dated for a short while, but they were very close. Unfortunately this partner committed suicide. Drove the car off the ledge here into the river. They found the car but they never found the body"
"The currents in the water will carry away anything that lands in there. A body for example would be carried out to sea and never found again" I finished, producing my pistol and aiming.
"So let's not stand here on ceremony Sarah. You know what must be done"
The clean up wasn't as bad as I thought. Her body was carried away fairly quickly, and thankfully it started to rain, washing away any blood.
I wondered for a moment why I started things with her. She was my coverup. Something to throw Sam off of the scent. She had to be cleared away before the day arrived. But did I have to have her at all? I suppose she was a fantastic poster girl to present to my parents. But I hated that bitch.
Sarah reminded me of Lindsey, Sam's one adventure into women. Of course I killed her too, two years into my ten year wait. I didn't want him getting a groove for women.
A few days later I arrived at Sam's apartment. I had a bunch of roses in hand. I allowed myself in when I saw the door was open.
The neat white hall lead straight to the main room. A sitting room/kitchen with an old couch and the kitchen and a table. However, I saw Sam lying limp on the floor.
I stood there frozen. I mean, shit. How do I deal with this? An actual suicide? I suppose I'm used to having to cover it up.
I glanced at the table and saw exactly what had happened. Beyond the knife used to slit his wrists there was a picture of an ultrasound, a baby in the womb of a mother. On the top right corner was Sarah's home address.
With a sense of betrayal I turned to Sam and scowled.
"Ten years I waited buddy" I said aloud.
"Well I'm done okay? I'm done."
I suppose I was feeling a bit mad, because next thing I knew I'd grabbed the ultrasound and screamed at it.
"You cheating bastard! God dammit at least I fucking pretended"
It all made sense now though. Sam was a closeted heterosexual. Odd, given usually it's the opposite way around. But I suppose he didn't want to hurt my feelings. He knew deep down Sarah was a cover up. I'd even admitted it drunk at the five year mark to him.
The final thing I remember from that night was me phoning the police and leaving. I didn't wait for them to come. I went to the funeral, and I pretended to care. But I knew what this really meant. It was over. My ten year obsession. Hiding my true self and my true intentions.
But to tell you the truth. I enjoyed those ten years. Driving each boyfriend, each fling and each casual crush into that same spot of the river. Like puppets on a string. To tell you the truth again...I think I might just go find someone new and start all over again... | 2017-09-17T17:45:00 | 2017-09-17T16:16:14 | 106 | 11 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Dear Omar,
I know, I know. The last thing you wanted was your obituary to read "...an Oakland Man." I was telling some of my other friends that despite the fact we'd only been close friends for something like a couple years, you were someone that I would've wanted in the groom's party when I eventually got married. I don't share feelings easily, but with you it always felt okay.
I've moved to LA. I left Rdio that October. You'll be happy to know that Darrell and Raquel have bought my old place. They actually stay in the room you were in; they've converted the master bedroom to a gym.
Oh right! I finally went to Coachella. Your father had expressed to me, with tears in his eyes, how happy you seemed from all of the pictures you'd taken on your phone. I couldn't stop thinking of you and how you were always so easy with everyone. Totally understand what you loved about the music festival scene, now that I've gotten a few under my belt.
I try to live my life the way you did: always enjoying the moment, truly! These days I also chastise people for texting while driving. I have to confess to checking my phone at lights, sometimes. The traffic is just so bad here.
Oh! Also, I don't know if you know this happened, but your brother, or was it a cousin? He got super proselytizy at your memorial service, and left a small stack of pocket bibles for everyone. Your father kind of yelled at him to stop after a little while... it was kind of awkward.
I had to unfriend you on Facebook, sorry about that. Someone in your family had taken to using your phone, and hadn't deleted messenger, so it would show you as online, and after a while I just couldn't take it any more.
I think that's it... Every year, around that time in April, memories come up; you were such a brilliant light in our lives, and we miss you, and will continue to miss you.
Your friend always,
kevin | Dear Dad,
Or should I even call you dad? I think dad is more of a title to be earned and sadly throughout my eighteen and a half years of being on this earth, I do not think you have done very much to earn that title. Dad's don't leave. A dad is someone that is there for his children. A dad watches and actively participates in their lives. A dad helps them grow up , raises them, nurtures them, attends dumb elementary school award shows, college graduation. Dads teach you how to ride your first bike and they sit nervously in the passenger seat of a car as they teach you how to drive on your own. Dads aren't supposed to be selfish like you are, you've always chosen a life full of drugs over your children. Do you even know what thats like? To not ever have a consistent father figure in your life? I blamed myself for so many years for you not being in my life. I thought that maybe something was wrong with me and that's why I was never a priority for you. I remember during valentines day when I was in middle school all of my friends dads sent them flowers and chocolates and took them out so they would feel special. I remember going to the bathroom and just sitting on the floor crying because I wanted nothing more in the entire world than a dad that loved me that much. Do you ever think about how your decisions effect your children? Honestly, I really want to know. When I was in high school I took a college level Psychology course. One of the first things we learned was this theory that stated that people are more likely to grow up and get into relationships with people that remind them of their parents. Boys tend to date girls that remind them of their mother. Girls go for guys that remind them of their dad. Let me ask you, would you want me to be in a relationship with someone like you? Someone who abuses not only drugs but women as well? Would you be okay with him hitting me? Or calling me names? Or would you even care? I know that you do these things and it breaks my heart and scares me all at the same time. I am constantly afraid that maybe the theory is correct and one day that will be my life without me even noticing it. It scares me even more that one day I'll wake up and be living my life the same way you chose to live yours. My biggest fear is becoming anything like you. I honestly wish it was possible for me to hate you. It would make you not being in my life a lot easier, but no matter how much I try I just can't. No matter how hopeless it is a part of me will always be reaching out for a relationship with you. I know you're sad and you feel lost and sometimes you just don't want to feel anything so you turn to drugs or alcohol to numb the pain. I know how that feels, I really do. But pain is meant to be felt. I want you to be apart of my life. I realize you'll never be the dad I wanted you to be, but I pray that you finally come to your senses and get your life turned around. Not just for my sake but for yours as well. I finished my freshman year of college a few days ago. Im doing pretty good in all of my classes, even though there were some points where it was so hard I just wanted to give up. I'm majoring in Biology and Pre healthcare. In about 10 years I'm hoping to be an orthodontist. Or maybe just a biologist in general. That's my favorite subject, I love learning about how everything in the world works. Its so intriguing to me and I could read about these things for hours on end. I have a boyfriend too. His name is Connor and he treats me really good. We've been together for a little over a year now. He's sweet and caring and he pushes me to work hard. He listens to me when I'm sad and he loves to show me off and tell everyone how smart he thinks I am, which gets really embarrassing sometimes but it makes me happy to know someone thinks so highly of me. Moms doing good too. She's beautiful as ever, and she's the happiest I've seen her in a while. Mark changed her life, actually all of our lives for the better. He is a good dad. He taught me how to drive and always tells me he's proud of me. He even calls me when I'm freaking out and crying over tests I feel like I've done bad on. He's amazing and I'm glad to have him in my life. Dana's oldest daughter Brittany is getting married in July! Can you believe it? Time has flown by. Ashley had a baby. He's the most beautiful baby boy I've ever seen. He makes my heart feel full just being around him. I hope you are doing okay in there. I hope you can come to peace with yourself and figure out what you need to do to turn your life around. It's never too late. Love, haley. | 2017-11-05T22:20:06 | 2017-11-05T22:19:09 | 78 | 28 |
[WP]: Intergalactic olympics are gathering. All creeds and cultures of the galaxy are arriving and greeting each other. Suddenly a fleet of spaceships appears, blasting We Will Rock You. Everyone freezes. The humans are here. | We will we will rock you!
"What is this? Is it a Human war cry?" asked Glibyerb, wearing a concerned face. "No, I believe they call it music" answered Naroh, defeated. "Since the Humans learned of the Galactic Games, they have made it an almost insane drive to remind us of there superior might."
"what do you mean?" asked Glibyerb, watching the great Human ship land in an overt show of 'non threatening' lasers and explosives
"Just watch little one" said Naroh pointing to the opening doors.
The giants marched out, standing twice the size of even the tallest of local races. They wore masks, not because they needed them to breath, but because the humans excrete poisonous Carbon dioxide at an alarming rate. On there feet were weights put in place by the games committee to even the odds against humans, since Humans are used to a stronger gravitational pull, there already formidable strength is doubled.
Needless to say, they win every year. | "This is working! This could work!" Xxxipz thought to himself, almost afraid to say it out loud. The majority Corixian event-staff fluttered about primping last minute details, their gossamer wings almost sparkling from the misting rain. “Are you seeing this?” Xxxipz asked into his headset. “This is playing so well on camera,” Tayia responded from the makeshift editing bay. “Humans love sparkly things,” another excited voice responded, probably one of the production consultants. Xxxipz had worried for months over the committee's choice of Corixia to host the event, but he now quietly thanked the OldFather someone had listened to the Imslaw delegate when he noted the resemblance between the Corixians and a popular human religious icon. It was a moment of genius when Benyi thought to hold the event in the wetlands of Sayiayo. All of the best human sporting events occurred in the rain. Benyi theorized it somehow intensifies the feeling humans get when they win. Xxxipz needed the humans to feel like winners. The fate of everyone depended on it.
Every possible theoretical model projected the same thing. This was the only chance. The product of a world that according to conventional science should not exist, the humans are hardy and clever. They reproduce at rates unlike any other known sentient species. Despite the popularity of their media transmissions, it wasn't a mystery why no one was in a rush to make contact. Xxxipz had expected some sort of interplanetary delegation would have to get involved after the incident, he didn’t expect that he would be on it. The only people more surprised than Xxxipz when the committee approached the company were Benyi and Tayia. But the plan was clear, if not crazy and the 1009th Ultimate Intergalactic Olympics of Mega-Champions were born. It would be the first event of its kind, but the models dictated it was not enough for the humans to win an event. They need to feel like they did the best in the history of a sporting event. Xxxipz was not really one for sports. His company specialized in large festivals and immersive experiences. But Xxxipz much preferred sports to mass genocide, which is what the committee told him would happen if he could not put together the most convincing rigged intergalactic sports event of all time.
Everything about the month long festival of challenges had been tailored to appeal to the human's sporting nature and preferences. “So far, so good, ” Xxxipz muttered to himself as the human athletes began to descend from their transport ships, breaking into what appeared to be an elaborate choreographed dance as they made landfall. His team hadn't even planned the rock music. The humans did that.
The humans come from a small planet that developed life under the protection of a freak magnetic field in an otherwise uninhabitable sector of space. Their existence is so unlikely that scientists might have missed them before it was too late, but humanity has a way of making themselves known. While power structures rose and fell on the green and yellow zone planets, all regimes only ever seemed to agree on one thing: do not engage the humans. For centuries, scientists blocked their calls and hacked their probes while learning everything they could to build their datasets. Federation, Alliance, and most independent planets entered into treaties to stop using radio frequencies humans could detect. Coalitions built artificial asteroid belts to shield other communications. A Tartiirian authoritarian regime briefly come into power entirely on an idiotic plan to build a giant wall.
Xxxipz remembered with a chuckle a politician once arguing “They will give up on long-term space flight, they will give up on making war.” It turns out that humans are not great at giving up. In fact, Xxxipz was counting on it. | 2018-04-28T11:13:00 | 2018-04-28T10:47:46 | 29 | 15 |
[WP] An alien has kidnapped Matt Damon, not knowing what lengths humanity goes through to retrieve him whenever he goes missing. | "We're receiving a transmission from Earth. It's about the human specimen we harvested for examination."
"Send it to the bridge. Let's see what they have to say."
*I don't know who you are. I don't know what you want. If you are looking for ransom, I can tell you I don't have money. But what I do have are a very particular set of skills, skills I have acquired over a very long career. Skills that make me a nightmare for people like you...*
"End the transmission. Send the Earthling back, and prepare for hyperspace. We are getting the fuck outta here" | “And honestly, you don’t even really get that nauseous after the fourth or fifth time,” Captain Zerk explained, passing paper towels to Matt Damon.
Suddenly, a bright flash of light\-\-a ship appears behind theirs.
“What in the\-\-?”
“Incoming message, Commander Zerk,” chimes the ship’s command station.
Zerk waves his hand impatiently, and the message plays.
“Hello *XPS412*, this is *Red Hawk*. This is your first warning\-\-return Damon to us unharmed or we will be forced to take action.”
Zerk appears confused. He presses a button and begins dictating a response.
“Hello *Red Hawk*. It was my understanding that with the Earth’s increasingly depleted resources, lightspeed travel has become prohibitively expensive. How are you funding this expedition?”
Zerk waits patiently for a response, looking questioningly at Matt Damon. Damon shrugs, still wiping vomit from his shirt.
“Incoming message, Commander Ze\-”
“Yeah, yeah, ok play it.”
The command station beeps huffily, and the message plays after a staticky pause.
“...That is irrelevant. Return Damon to us unharmed or we will be forced to take action.”
Zerk shrugs. He presses a button on the command station, and light speed travel is initiated once more. Matt Damon hurls as a white light engulfs *XPS412*.
When the ship slows down, Zerk looks around. Nothing around for light years. He smiles, wondering if he will be knighted once he gifts Damon to the Grand Chancellor. Collecting Earth celebrities has become something of a hobby among the galaxy’s elite, who especially love action movies.
A bright flash of light once more.
“What the f\-\-”
“*XPS412*\-\-this is your last warning! Return Damon to us unharmed or we will capsize you. We have an elite attack squad currently crawling around the bottom of your ship, they have been instructed to enter and destroy until Damon has been returned.”
Zerk has already begun responding.
“**Two** light speed jumps?? Aren't you guys in the most debt in the entire\-\-”
A loud bang is heard by all as an explosion goes off somewhere along the underbelly of the ship. Damon looks apologetically at Zerk.
Zerk is about to say something when another explosion goes off, this time accompanied by the activation of the ship’s emergency lights.
“OKAY! Okay okay, *Red Hawk*, look, I’m returning Matt Damon. Alright? Get your squad off my boat so I can enable repair drones.”
Zerk turns off the mic and resentfully removes the magnetic cuffs around Matt Damon’s ankles.
“I don’t want to be a dick but *The Martian* wasn’t even that good, I don’t get why you’re such a big deal,” Zerk mutters.
He turns on the mic one last time.
“*Red Hawk*, I’m sending Damon back to Earth now. I hope whatever you sold was worth it.”
A long pause.
“Send him to the ship.”
“What, why? I can just beam him to Earth right\-\-”
“SEND HIM TO THE SHIP.”
Zerk's face goes slack, he finally understands.
“We are nothing without him,” the radio says, before going silent one last time. | 2018-06-06T16:07:37 | 2018-06-06T15:07:45 | 365 | 53 |
[WP] You've accidentally killed three super-villains. Now the FBI thinks you're the next big superhero, and all the superheroes, who know you aren't, think you're the next big super-villain vying for territory. | Fate is a curious thing.
If you had told me a month ago that I'd be standing in the center of a brewing war, I'd have called you crazy. Hell, I still feel a bit crazy.
It was just over a month ago when it all started. I was minding my own business, shopping at the grocery store. A young man walked down the aisle wearing a bright green getup. I thought it was odd—but hey, we lived in the city. Odd people are pretty much the rule here, not the exception.
Anyway, the young man was struggling to reach the top shelf—he was maybe 5'5"—so I did the neighborly thing and helped him out. I'll be darned if he didn't get so indignant at me for trying to help that he had a heart attack! I always tell people, if you get so worked up over the little things you're bound to have a heart attack! People never stop to stay calm; it's like they just see red and have no control over themselves. Anyway, I called an ambulance and tried to do CPR, but it was too late.
I felt bad for the young man, but apparently he was a bit of a bad man. He'd been responsible for a mass killing a few weeks back. I always say that you get what's coming to you.
The very next week I was at the bank looking to make a small deposit—my daughter had sent me a bit of money in the mail, God bless her. I was next in line when a group of men wearing clown costumes thundered their way into the bank! They were robbing it! I was scandalized, let me tell you. Anyway, they yelled for everyone to get on the ground and shut up—such rude language. Now, as for me, I'm not as young as I once was. I really couldn't get to the ground without hurting my hip—I recently had it replaced and being that it's winter, it just hurts like the dickens. I tried to tell those young men that I'd just need some help laying down. They didn't like that one bit. As one man they pointed their guns at me. The next thing I knew, they were firing at me! They were going to shoot me down in cold blood. I honestly don't know how, but they all missed! Somehow the bullets all found their way back to the young men in the clown masks. Each and every one of them had shot out their own eye. I hate to say I told you so, but I've been warning people about that for years. Young people never listen.
Next thing I knew, I was being questioned by the FBI. They seemed to think I had super powers. I just laughed and told them about my rather ordinary life—outside of this last week, it was downright dull! Eventually they let me leave with a lot of knowing winks and patronizing nods. I think they thought they were privy to some secret. Foolish kids.
Now I know the story would be stranger than fiction if I just let it end there, but the story isn't over! Just two weeks back I had decided to drop by an art gallery to see my grand-daughter's exhibit there. It was all the way downtown and a hell of a trip to make on a bad hip like mine. I wanted to see my Annie's art work all displayed on the walls though. Honestly, I get a bit choked up thinking about the next bit...
I was sitting down, admiring a canvas with about three hundred shades of grey—part of this so called modern art I've been hearing about—when a burly gentleman kicked open the door holding a sword. He pointed the thing at me, saying something about "The guild wanting revenge." Strangest thing I'd heard, though I guess I understand now...
Anyway, the man came running at me like a linebacker, waving his sword about like a crazed kid with a toy. He tripped and fell a foot in front of me. I tell you, that grey painting had a lot more color after he was done spraying blood all over the place.
You know, I always told people not to run with knives or scissors. He proved my point.
After that mess, I was hailed as the greatest hero of our time. Apparently that man had been responsible for the deaths of a dozen heroes in the last three years. Me? I don't know about that. But they call me "The Grandad," and I think I like that.
I think I may play along with this for the next couple years. Everyone needs some good grandfatherly advice now and again. Especially these heroes and villains.
__________________________
/r/SirLemoncakes | The TV above the bar droned endlessly in its praise of one Victor Blackshaw, the newest hero of Pontiff City. Savior. Mayor Lin in Manuele Square, shaking the hand of a lanky, jittery man with beady eyes and a cheap suit, just before the handing over of the keys to the city. They loved it. Schools out in the afternoon so the kids could attend. They even had some kind of stupid mural made. Greatest hero. Most wonderful hero.
Ad nauseam.
I spun my glass of water round and round on the bar top, doing my best to ignore the broadcast.
"Want me to turn that off, Vic?" Hector said from his stool, though he didn't lift his eyes from his phone.
I sighed, which he took to mean "leave it on". Quiet night tonight; not that Hector's seedy little place on the corner of Silver Drive did roaring business on other days. But I had my suspicions. Glancing at the door, I saw that the "open" side of the sign was facing me.
Good ol' Hector.
"You did good, Vic." Hector waved a hand at the TV. "These people, they got it right. Maybe you should, too."
"Screw them," I said, emptying my glass.
Hector got up and fetched a fresh pitcher, condensation dripping off its murky, plastic sides. As he poured, he said softly, "Just 'cause you didn't mean it, don't mean you were wrong. Those were some bad people."
I nodded absently, watching the newsreel. The victims—my victims—appeared on the screen. Real names: Grant, Mitchell, and Kelly Baxter. Fifty-three, twenty, forty-eight. Bodies cremated and—
The news didn't say that; I was simply remembering what my FBI—what did they term him again? Oh yes, handler—had reported. All while wearing the biggest grin on his face, like he'd just won the lottery.
"Serves those sonabitches righ', for killin' so many of ours," he'd said. Then he'd clapped me on the back, and walked me out of their headquarters as his colleagues clapped.
The door opened, admitting a blast of muggy, summer air into the bar. A woman in a black dress sauntered up the bar, smiling at me and nodding at Hector.
"What'll you have?" Hector said.
"Whatever he's having," she said as she sat down next to me.
Hector snorted. "There's a surcharge for that shit."
When he handed her a glass, she took a sip, though she made no comment about the unusual contents. Then she set it aside and said, "You're Mr. Blackshaw."
I sighed. "Look, ma'am, I've already talked to all the reporters I want to talk to in this lifetime at the ceremony today. And I don't do autographs. Leave me alone, please."
She leaned closer. Her perfume filled my nostrils. "I'm neither."
"Then what do you want?"
"To talk. And then ... well, that depends on how cooperative you are."
This time, I turned to look at her. Her gaze was sultry all right, but I wasn't in the mood. "Was that a threat?"
She smiled. "Again, it depends on our talk."
"The FBI have cleared me of wrongdoing. And they've offered to protect me from any other ... God, I can't believe I'm saying this. From other supervillains."
"Then where are your bodyguards?" She made a show of looking around.
I felt a chill race down my spine. Even Hector had disappeared into the back room. "I ... I refused. I don't deserve it." Suddenly, I wasn't sure that was the smartest idea.
"A pity." She edged her seat closer; I noticed one of her hands hidden behind her back. But as I looked closer, I also realized ... she was trembling. Only a little, but still noticeable. What was she worried about?
"Who are you?" I said.
She shook her head instead. "Let's talk about you, instead. Nobody's heard about you before the incident. Now ... now you're on everybody's lips. People see you as a hero, but I, and some others, are a little more wary."
"You see, whenever a supervillain gets killed by anyone other than a superhero or the cops, someone just as bad tends to take their place. You're neither a superhero, nor a cop. Can you see where I'm going?"
"You think I'm a supervillain?" I said. Then I laughed in her face, short and harsh. "Woman, I can't even pay my rent on time, and now I don't even have a car. I work ten miles out of the city! The goddamned insurance company's holding—"
"We know all that," she said. "A good story. Maybe true, maybe not, but you sure have the city believing it."
I glared at her. "Then look at it this way. If I were the newborn villain that you're accusing me of being, was it wise for you to come here alone?"
Her head rocked back a little. "I'm not—I mean, I'm not accusing you of anything. Unless, of course, you're admitting to it."
I scoffed, turning back to the bar. "Piss off."
Infuriatingly, she didn't listen. "Tell me the truth, once and for all. What's your plan? Why did you kill Whisky, Tango and Foxtrot?"
My fingers closed around the glass, knuckles turning white. There was a dull pounding in my temples, a phantom sensation, a remembrance of that night ...
"I was ... I was driving home. Late one. Janet and Henry had just gotten engaged, so we'd gone and celebrated." I bowed my head and drew a deep breath. "Thought I didn't have too much to drink."
"You were drunk?" the woman said, sounding genuinely surprised. "The reports—"
"—didn't say anything because they wanted me to look good," I said heavily. "Yeah. Lost control, hit the Baxters, sent them off the bridge. Now I'm a hero. A goddamned hero."
"You know what they found in the car?" I said, cutting her off just as she opened her mouth. "A birthday cake. It was Mitchell's birthday." I chuckled bitterly. "Who knew supervillains had birthdays too?"
The bar fell into silence. Hector had come back, and he now stood uneasily in the doorway, looking between us. Finally, I heard the rustle of cloth as the woman stood. She placed a strange, triangular device on the bar, and wedged some cash beneath it.
"What's that?" I said.
"Thought you could do with someone buying you a drink," she said.
"The thing."
She hesitated, then placed a tentative hand on my shoulder. "Sorry for the confrontation. I had to know you weren't a supervillain. If you need to talk to me, or if you ever need my help, you can use that to contact me."
"Oh yeah?" I spun as she headed for the exit. "And whose side are you on?"
She looked over her shoulder, smiling. Hell, she was actually quite pretty, after all that. "I'll let you figure that one out."
***
*Thanks for reading! Check out my [sub](http://reddit.com/r/nonsenselocker) for more of my works!* | 2019-02-07T08:39:32 | 2019-02-07T08:38:07 | 2,185 | 215 |
[WP] You wake up after experiencing a vivid, heart-pounding dream. You tell your partner, only to discover they’ve had the exact same dream. Your phone vibrates with a CNN notification-“The world is panicking: millions report experiencing the same sensational dream.” The dream identical to yours. | That is weird I exclaim. I know I have disabled notifications from CNN on my phone...
Atlas asks me what I think it means. My phone is broke? I reply. This gets me smacked with a pillow.
What do you think it means? *Atlas shrugs in response* You know I fucking hate it when you do that right?
Suddenly I can't catch my breath. Then it is worse. I can't breathe at all. There is air all around me, not a drop of water and yet I am drowning. I struggle to scream, to make a sound. My vision begins to darken. Atlas shakes my shoulder and yells at me to wake up.
Bad dream honey? Atlas asks as I start to shake off the fog of a dream that recedes faster than I can chase it.
The worst. I kept getting notifications from CNN on my phone despite having disabled them.
*Atlas shrugs and then hits me with a pillow* I yawn, grin sleepily and we half heartedly argue about who is making breakfast in the morning before comfortably falling asleep in each other's arms.
*Dreams of chorizo, egg and cheese breakfast tacos begin to form in my head and because I dream it so does everyone else* | He stumbles through the city, steam rising from the sewer-vents melding into the clouds giving the world a smokey aura of mystery. Through the fog, the neon sign of the 'Heart O The City' hotel appears, piercing the night with its vibrant colors. He stops, lost. As he stands a flock of sheep wanders past, its shepherd whistling and directing the herd. He reaches out to pet one of the sheep, then jerks his hand back, electrified.
-----
Moirot started suddenly in bed before rolling around languidly, eyes closed, and bumping into Ketra, who let out a tired sigh. The two remain for some long minutes before Moirot got out of bed and wandered to the coffee machine of their studio apartment.
"I had the weirdest dream last night." Ketra said from under the covers. "Something about sheep."
"Me too!" Moirot spooned grounds into the machine.
-----
"You can't turn it off now," Ananke glared at Prof. Saturnin, "We're starting to make real progress, I mean serious progress. No group has ever done runs with this kind of detail before! We can implement more power saving measures, repeat more non-essential patterns--"
"We can't afford it, Ananke," Prof. Saturnin sighed at Ananke, "You knew at the beginning that my grant was only for three years of time, it's been five. I just don't have any more grant money to cover it. Don't worry, we can patch together a thesis with what you've got now."
-----
Ketra finally got out of bed, long tie-dye shirt falling to her knees, phone in her hand. Moirot, in plaid flannels, held a cup of coffee out to her without looking. But Ketra never took it.
"This is weird," Ketra mumbled, thumbing through her phone, "What did you dream about last night?"
"Sheep, I told you."
"No, I mean, exactly, was it night or day? Country-side or city? Color or black-and-white?"
Moirot told her about his dream. Ketra held her phone out to him with shaking hands
-----
"This is insane!" Ananke huffed, "I don't care about money or a thesis! This project is groundbreaking at so many levels, the latest snapshots are just... You wouldn't believe the kind of detail we're getting! It has to continue!"
"Welcome to Academia, Ana." The professor smiled sadly as he walked through the lab toward the terminals and took a seat at one. Ananke stood, hand on hips off to the side.
-----
"Woah," Moirot said as he slurped his coffee, "That's so weird."
Moira chuckled, "I know ri-i-i-i-i-ght!" Her voice broke into a strangely polyphonic octave and she clamped her mouth shut, eyes wide with surprise.
Moirot doubled over in a full belly laugh, but what came out was a mechanical "Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha." He froze, shocked, and craned his neck to look up Ketra's 8-bit, chromatic shirt.
Ketra looked around the room in a panic, then slapped her cubical coffee mug onto the cubical countertop, "What's happening?!" She shouted.
The world began to shift more and more quickly, the transparent floor-to-ceiling windows faded into a pure, opaque blue. The zebra-striped couch took on a complex polygonal shape and a pure grey color, then a simpler, shape, then simpler, until a grey rectangle sat where it once was
Moirot screamed.
-----
"I'm sorry Ana," Prof. Saturnin put his arm around his student's shoulder.
"It's going to take years to run another simulation that long and with that kind of resolution," Ananke griped.
The two stared down at the [terminal](https://www.reddit.com/r/jacktheritter) in the lab.
SYSTEM SHUTDOWN NOW | 2020-05-01T17:15:41 | 2020-05-01T16:34:50 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] You are a warrior pledged to protect a chosen priestess on her quest to quell a great evil. What she finds at the end of her journey is not a dark god or towering beast. She now stands before an altar of sacrifice. You knew the truth the whole time, you just couldn't bear to tell her. | "You must sacrifice thing thing you love most..." I said, holding back tears. "It's the only way.""
She stared at the alter, holding back her emotions as best as she could. "You've been with me through it all- I don't want to have to say goodbye after all we've been through together..." Tears flowed down her face.
"It's the only way priestess. You can save the world here, now, and only now while the moon is at its peak." I lowered my head above the alter, ready for what was to come.
"Ummm- *sniff* you're in the way." I looked up with a confused expression but the priestess quickly smashed her phone on the alter. A bright light shot into the sky towards the moon directly overhead. The moon changed from its evil reddish glow to a strong white with blue undertones.
"You- But- How- Why..."
"WE DID IT!" | "I don't get it," Michael says, staring at a stone slab in the center of the room. "It's just a rock. I don't get it." No one else appears to get it either. We all stand around in a broken staggered circle, still heaving into a normal breathing rhythm. Muffled explosions sway the ancient structure, although only a faint occasional thud comes through the otherwise soundproof cavern. Small pieces of sediment peel off in response, filtering down behind us.
"This is what we came here for, traveled all this way for, this?" Michael asks, motioning to the slab. "Just a rock." He paces away.
"No, it's not just a rock," Elijah says. He lightly kicks one end of it. Blue symbols light up on the surface, their impressions if present before now eerily holographic.
"It's an altar." He nods at me, then backs away into the shadows, next to Amira, the holy girl. But what makes her so holy? I watched her bring dead men back to life with just a kiss or a brush of her fingers. She looked at me, when she did this; man after man she resurrected, until she resurrected Pri, and stood above her most relished accomplishment. Then I started to see the pieces of her purpose pull apart like puzzle pieces. Did she ever truly have a home other than the monastery she came from? Did she ever truly have an upbringing other than the chanting men and women who desperately forced on her a purpose?
A half mute, she never did anything but smile and say "yes" or "no". No one taught her to behave or think for herself. No one, after worshiping her thought to teach her of unhappiness, but rather that doing good was rewarded. She acted like a child, and was nearly seventeen.
Pri holsters her gun on her belt, then squats in front of the slab, running her eyes along the the symbols. She places her index finger in a crook under her chin, assuming the thinking face she gets when she attempts a curious translation.
"Be they who read this," Pri reads. "Know that evil is what thou solely covets and most be given up without vanity." Pri stands, her hands on her hips.
"What thou solely covets," she says. She twists her lips and squints her eyes, uncertain of the meaning, but certain of her words. Because at the end of the day, it makes sense.
"What is most pure is most easily tarnished," the shaman said weeks earlier, his eyes glowing a neon green.
I look at Amira. Still catching her breath, she appears oblivious to the situation. Yet, it could not be more obvious.
"It's her."
"What?" Michael asks.
"What is pure is most easily tarnished. Elijah," I say. He catches on, wrapping his arms around her.
"NO, NO, NO!" Amira screams. She flails her skinny limbs pinwheeling in an attempt to escape. Despite this, Elijah drags her forward, closer to the altar. He pins her down by her shoulders. She spits and bites like an animal.
"Gah!" he cries. I hold her head back onto the rock, fumbling for something that might finally end this.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Pri yells. She runs towards us, but Michael blocks her. She uppercuts into his chin. Michael stumbles back and pushes her back with the butt of his rifle. They are fighting, we are fighting. But in the end, we were protecting power. And that power returned Pri back to us, but it also was turning her against us.
"Noooo!" she screams. Wild girl, idiot girl. I plunge the knife into her throat. | 2020-11-12T21:01:51 | 2020-11-12T18:38:19 | 86 | 48 |
[WP] "But we sent a full Declaration of Independance with swear words of Martian and Terran lexicon. What do you mean they are happy to grant our independence peacfully? Do you know how much we spent on weapons?" | The Martian Leader sank in his armchair and downed his whisky. “Fine, whatever,” he said, refilling his glass.
“And as the proud people of Earth, we humans DO NOT BOW DOWN TO – The Emissary paused. “Excuse
me, did you just say ‘fine’?”
“Yeah, fine. You want to be independent from the Solar System Union, fine. Where do I sign?”
The Emissary looked back at his men. At the cameras, currently broadcasting to every single television
on Earth. This was supposed to be his big moment. Humanity’s big moment!
Since the day the aliens had first made contact and let the people of Earth know they were a colony --
part of a unified solar system government whether they liked it or not -- the people had been dreaming of freedom.
*No, we do not accept. We are humans, we are earthlings, we are free!*
And The Emissary had been sent to deliver the message. Armies from every single country banded together even as he spoke, waiting for the bloody yet glorious battle for independence.
And now… this?
“Just to confirm, are you granting us our independence?” The Emissary asked, not sure what else to
say. "Just like that?"
The Martian Leader was signing the document already. “There. Enjoy.”
“Huh… you were a lot more emphatic about us being a part of your union when you first announced
yourselves,” the Emissary said. “What changed?”
“We got a message that we’re also a colony,” The Martian said, with a sad sigh.
“Sorry?”
“The Solar System Union apparently is officially a part of the Coalition of Milky Way Nations,” the
Martian said.
“Okay, but what does that have to do with –“
“And apparently the Coalition of Milky Way Nations is itself a part of the Great Local Group Empire. Who knew.”
“Huh,” the Emissary started. “I didn’t know there was a Local Group –“
“Which itself, of course, is part of the Virgo Supercluster Unified Kingdom. And that Kingdom is,
naturally, itself a part of the Global Commonwealth of the Universe.”
The Emissary was silent for a long time, pondering this. There was something growing in his chest – an
unpleasant feeling he couldn’t quite name. He pushed it down. Finally he cleared his throat, “Well, I
suppose –”
“And the Global Commonwealth of the Universe,” The Martian continued, after downing another drink,
“is nothing more than a cell of the Great Federation of Multiverses. Which is part of the Unified Republic
of All-Possible-Realities-Coexisting-in-a-Quantum-State.” The Martian paused, then sighed. “I can keep
going, but you see my point, right?”
The Emissary did.
The point was that the universe is a ridiculously big and absurd place and none of our
silly human stupid problems on Earth matter at all so let’s just stop all wars and fights and stuff and
just enjoy this acid trip that is being alive because nothing means anything anyway.
I mean, maybe it wasn’t, but that’s what the Emissary and all the humans watching on their TVs took
from it, and so a new golden age of peace and prosperity ensued on Earth and everything was fine and
Firefly got a second season.
 
/r/psycho_alpaca | They sat down, disappointed, slouching in their seats. But I knew something was up.
"This doesn't feel right," I said, picking up a gun, trying to toss it around and failing miserably, "what do you mean they 'peacefully' accepted it?"
"You can read the letter they sent back." the boss replied. He got up, briefly handed me the letter, and before I could even grab it, he let go of it and slouched right back down into his hair, almost crying even. I crouched down to pick it up.
Translated, it read:
"Dear fellow homo sapiens. While we are quite disappointed at your constant use of foul and vulgar language, we are more than obliged to appease your request. As such, you are free to leave. You now have your freedom, separate from the Union of Martian Countries and the planet Mars. Signed, J𝙹⍑リᔑℸ ̣ ⍑╎リ sᒲ╎ℸ ̣ ⍑."
My mouth was gaped at their response. It was so calm; too calm. They had to be planning something. I ripped the letter apart to shreds, the papyrus sheet now on the floor, separate pieces close together. Then, one piece mystically blew out of the room, out of the window, and into the Martian atmosphere.
"Huh..." I said, "almost like that's a... sign to something."
"You're out of your goddamn mind, Lewie," a fellow colleague of mine that I wouldn't really consider a friend, or even an associate, said, "they gave us freedom so peacefully. This was gonna go into the history books. the amount of Marsis we spent on these firearms. And now they leave us in the dust, our debt in hand." he said.
His name was Brandon. I've found him to be quite annoying at times, hell, all the time, but there wasn't really much we could do about it. Not even the boss. This man was so fierce, powerful, so full of strength. He was the main soldier on our army, yet he was never promoted. Martians' blood would splatter all over the floors and evaporate up into the air, carried away by the wind, when he was on our side. At this point no one even tried to get rid of him. If he could pierce strong Martian armor *that* easily, then what could he do to us?
"Brandon," the boss said, "please sit down and stop fighting."
It was over within a second. In one second, his head was there. The next, it was full of holes. Smoke came up and out of the barrel and rose into the air as Brandon blew it out like a tiny fire. Blood splattered everywhere and the subtle smell of iron rose into the room. It was all so... surprising.
"You're... fired." Brandon said, chuckling under his breath. If there's one thing I've always been jealous of, it was his very clever one-liners.
"Now... anyone else care to speak up?" he asked.
No one moved. They sat still, almost as still as the now slouching corpse which lie sprawled out on the chair. He was alive and breathing once, and how his very red, blood stained flesh was visible. His suit was covered in the stuff like he had spilled wine on himself, and the stains settled in the washer. It was still so... so... surprising to see him like that. I worked with him for almost 3/4 my life... I was one of his first employees, and there he sat, dead as a doornail.
"Now if you excuse me, I've got some Martians to splatter. Bye bye." he said suddenly, breaking the silence. He then hopped out the window.
The air filled with electricity and static, but it seemed I was the only one getting zapped. I knew something was very off at this point. At this point, it was like I had the Spidey sense, and I fled from the room. My footsteps echoed as I hopped out the window seemingly after Brandon. All I wanted to do was get out of there.
"Hah! Look at that crazy Lewie! He thinks something's gonna come kill us right as we speak!" The whole room had a chuckle. I looked back and sighed. Screw them.
I ran and ran and ran, panting all the way. My pants drenched in sweat as my feet went in order, in turn, one in front of the other. *Just gotta get away,* I thought, *gotta get away*.
I heard a large, crashing noise. I turned back. In the distance, on the very top of the Martian hillside, I saw my building, crushed, under a giant asteroid-like material. Arms and legs sprawled out under the rock as the rest of the body remained invisible below it. Remorse and guilt, was all I could feel. But I felt something rising up from me... up from the very remains of my soul, up inside my acidic stomach, and out of my mouth. It just, came out of me.
"That asteroid is harder than all of your skulls, and stronger than all of your souls!" I yelled across the hillside. I did it... my first one-liner. And no one was even around to hear it. *Is,* I thought, *is that what it is like when Brandon does it*? I shrugged it off and ran into the distance.
I saw a little silhouetto of a man... in the distance, far ahead of me. He looked like the Queen of the world, standing atop a hillside, rocks and pebbles flowing down from under him. He held in his hand a gun, a very large caliber one. It shot lasers the width of your palm, the length of your arm, the height of your big toe.
"Now, the only thing between me and your skulls is your fleshy green skin!" he yelled. *He's still got it*, I thought. But I felt the feeling again... from deep in my soul, into my stomach, into my throat, as I approached closer and closer to him.
"Could your brain get any denser? You forgot about me!" I yelled.
He turned around slowly.
Oh shit. | 2021-01-27T17:57:30 | 2021-01-27T15:58:01 | 911 | 133 |
[WP] We may not be the strongest, but our immune systems are legendary among alien races. There is a saying: "if it makes a human sick it will kill you." | The planet didn't look like much, still not even a Kardashev 1. But, it harbored one of the single greatest advancements in galactic medicine - humans.
The instructor purred into the loudspeaker, "we call it EARTH, a clever acronym made up by the boys in the lab that stands for Everything and Anything Relating to Threats to Health, which would be quite the mouthful on its own." Chuckles spread throughout the crowd of gathered MedOps students. The odd see-through projection hung in the air above their heads, showing a planet nearly unmarked by technological advancement.
"Most of you already know the risks posed to our society by the intermingling of species - diseases don't have the ability to wipe out a population anymore, they have the ability to wipe out dozens. We're not moving backwards anytime soon, so it was important we find a way to observe diseases in an isolated environment. We were lucky to find EARTH, because not only are its inhabitants not advanced enough to create the threat of spreading the infections, but their immune systems are the strongest we've seen in a near-Common lifeform. If you and a human are exposed to a pathogen at the same time and the human gets sick, you'll likely already be in rigor.
On top of being well suited in terms of advancement and bodily defenses, the humans make up one of the least cooperative societies we've seen... and that includes the avoid recommended regions of the far afield." Shock developed on the faces of the recruits as they processed this information. "While I'm sure this is a little unsettling to each of you, seeing as the last intra-species conflict near the Center was over a thousand centralutions ago, it is critical to understand. Because of this, there's little fear from the higher-ups that the humans will ever catch on to their role in the galaxy's safety. They would sooner blame another faction and eliminate it than consider the possibility of outside interference. In the few instances where a MedOp has been spotted while on assignment, the human observer wasn't believed or had their cognitive functions called into question. Even the faction infrastructures with multiple recorded sightings seem to keep them under wraps because they might be thought to be lying, or because fear would set back their advancement or cause further intra-species violence.
In short, the humans are not like anything you've ever encountered before. They do not think or behave, nor are they sentient in the way the rest of the galaxy is. If they see you, all but the smallest of them will fear you. If they fear you, they will try to kill you. Even removing a hazsuit near a human is a ticket to certain death, and that's not even considering all of the tools they possess that are meant solely to cause harm or death to others _like them_.
In short, be careful out there. Our work is dangerous, but protects the trillions of ~truly~ sentient beings who rely on the research we collect from this godsforsaken planet. In the grand scheme of things, the humans will never be more than a single planet species fighting over limited resources in an infinite universe. Our early attempts to lead them towards enlightenment through passing on information and assisting in building infrastructure failed because the factions never stop fighting. They destroyed collections of knowledge rivaling the Center's Alexan Library without a care. The humans refuse to take care of themselves, so they might as well help take care of the rest of us." | 'Dinner's in the mess' Mira shouted jovially over the ships intercom. Alex, Karnag, Celephlan, Jarus and Thud began slowly to kongregate as Mira one of the 2 humans gleefully served up a vile smelling meal to each of the crew of the Serendipity.
Each of the crew had their own job aboard the ship but they all took it in turns to cook. The problem was, well Mira couldn't cook. She did love to cook and she was an excellent diplomatic negotiator and well for the purposes of rag tag crew of theives that meant she could lie through her teeth better than anyone this side of the galaxy. She also happened to be the younger sister of Alex; a former black ops soldier and starfighter pilot turned rogue after having his brain mostly fried from too many memory wipes and torture from Taraxian Crystal spider venom from the time on Taraxia. He was also the only other human on Serendipity. Everyone on the crew owed him their lives multiple times over and not just from Mira's cooking.
Karnag, was the ships captain and an oversized Taraxian that had bought Alex as a slave and while not exactly freeing him, had given him purpose and a decent life again and reunited him with his sister. Karnag was a big softie and a ruthless, extremely calculated, relentless enemy if anyone ever came after his crew.
Celephlan, was a Lesarian a race of spindly creatures that evolved to withstand extreme temperatures, radiation levels, extreme winds and pressures They could move faster than any other sentient life form in the galaxy, and had lighting quick reactions to compliment their speed. Celephlan, she was the ships pilot.
Jarus was a Tamishan and described himself as basically a human, except he had scary telekinetic powers, and pointy ears. Mira kept teasing him for being a space elf, and kept stealing his shampoo. He was good in a fight and an excellent cook, but lazy and didn't really do much. Not even cook.
Thud, was a Goron, a nigh on immortal stone man. He was both their mechanic and doctor. He'd been alive longer than anyone aboard the ship could fathom. He'd seen civilisations rise and fall, empires, dynasties, federations reach out across the cosmos and he'd seen that reach turn to dust time and time again. He'd seen more wonders of the universe than all of them and he reckoned that the universe kept making more wonders for him to discover.
Nervously the crew took their seats around the table. Celephlan exchanged a nervous glance with Jarus, Jarus with Karnag, Karnag with Thud, whom merely shrugged and smiled politely at Mira before turning and intense gaze upon Alex whom was chowing down on his food. Mira took her seat chastising Alex for not waiting for her to start eating. Alex looked up with tearful eyes at his friends around the table and shook his head. Mira catching onto this frowned "It's not that bad right?" She asked her voice cracking. As she took a bite. Almost immediately she spat the food. Getting up from the table she ran from the mess to her bunk. Although the bulkhead slammed behind her the crew could hear her sobbing. Even though the food she served would literally kill the crew, they all loved her that much, they knew that while Alex wasn't quite all there due to his pain and hardship, Mira's Pain, she'd suffered the most. None of them coul bring themselves to be rude about her cooking. Not even Jarus.
Karnag sighed, "I think there are some MRE rations in cargo that we looted from that stellar guard cruiser a week back" before glaring at Jarus whom immediately got defensive.
"What the hell is that look for?" He said puffing up ready to defend and justify his laziness.
"Not asking you to cook for her, she loves cooking but for oursake teach the girl to cook." Karnag growled
"Even when you're trying to be diplomatic you still sound so agressive" Jarus whined back.
"Jarus you're lazy and destructive, the latter being why we don't ask you to do much. And it pains me to say this but you're the best damned chef on board. It's literally the only day to day job you're good at." Celephlan started.
"You're supposed to give a compliment either side of bad news like a sandwich" Jarus said before immediately cursing himself fro bringing up food and digging himself into a deeper hole.
"Like seriously Thud, have you ever met anyone lazier than Jarus?" Celephlan asked.
"One but he literally starved to death" the stone man confirmed.
"Jarus just please teach her to cook, she might stop stealing your shampoo if you do" Karnag said grasping at straws.
Alex finished his meal and shook his head and laughed "Mira stop stealing?" He asked rhetorically before continuing "that'll never happen, just be glad it's only your shampoo she uses to establish her dominance over you Jarus"
"She takes my shampoo to establish her dominance?" Jarus asked wildly terror creeping into his voice.
"So how bad is it?" Thud asked concern.
"Honestly, this is probably just going to be the sweats and the shits, but yeah it'll kill ya" Alex said crudely. Grabbing Celephlan's plate and chowing down again.
"And he goes back for seconds" Jarus exclaimed throwing his hands in the air.
"Why would you do that? You know it's going to make you sick" Karnag asked in disbelief.
Alex shrugged "Foods food and I've had far worse" he answered with his mouthful.
"There's a worse cook than Mira?" Thud asked.
"There are plenty, Mom was one of them" Alex laughed grabbing Karnag's plate.
"So where did you learn to cook then?" Celephlan asked.
"Prison" Alex shrugged, sliding Mira's plate infront of Jarus with a wink.
"I'll teach her to cook" Jarus blurted quickly.
"She'll like that" | 2021-02-03T18:49:59 | 2021-02-03T18:06:36 | 197 | 87 |
[WP] Despite having pink hair, untold magic power and a tragic backstory, the narrator refuses to make you the main character. | “Sorry kid, but you just AREN’T main character material. Maybe you should get close with one and then have a spin-off made about you.” He put down his paintbrush and grabbed his soda.
Jen wasn’t an average kid, at least according to the file the narrator read, but didn’t seem that interesting. Of course Jen didn’t want to become a main character just to be in the spotlight. Being a main character comes with “main character syndrome” where you were almost guaranteed to win in everything at the end. But she did have a problem. Long story short, she was in trouble with the mob and wanted to not die.
She first learned of this ancient group known as “narrators”, which helped the world go round and round. She heard that there was one in a mountain close to her home. If she could prove that she was important enough to become a main character, her life would be great and her troubles should go away. But this guy just didn’t care.
“Look, narrator, is your name narrator or can I call you something else?” She asked
“No,” He said, “just call me narrator.”
“Well narrator, I kinda need you to make me it or I’ll probably die. You don’t want an weak little teenager to die, do you.” She put on her puppy dog eyes and tears came out of her eyes.
“Look, you’re 17, have magic powers, and just tried to guilt trip me soooo no.”
“Wait what?” Jen asked
He took a long sip of his soda before opening his eyes wide and spitted his drink out.
“WAIT NO YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT! FRICK THATS A SPOILER! THE COUNCIL IS GOING TO FIRE ME!” He got up and started to panic.
“wait I have magic powers?” Jen looked at this powerful godlike creature have a mental breakdown right in front of her. “What kind of magic powers?”
“I’M NOT TELLING YOU!” He said as jumped back on his chair.
“Tell me or I’ll call your Boss!” Jen yelled as she realized the power she has acquired.
“NO!!! NOT THE COUNCIL! PLEASE ILL GIVE YOU ANYTHING! ILL GIVE YOU MAIN CHARACTER STATUS PLEASE!!!” He got on the floor and started sobbing. “THIS IS MY SECOND MISTAKE AFTER I ACCIDENTALLY CRUSHED A MAIN CHARACTER WITH A PIANO. THEY’LL TAKE MY NARRATOR STATUS”
Jen looked at this crybaby and felt pretty bad. “Wait! Look I’m sorry! How about you just make sure I don’t die and we’ll call it even?” She felt so bad for hurting this guy.
The narrator sniffed and cleaned his eyes. “Deal.” He sat back in his chair.
“Thanks!” She said as she walked back down the mountain. She felt good that she was going to be fine.
The narrator stopped crying when he knew she left. He looked at his book and laughed a little. “I feel bad for her, but unfortunately her fate had already been written. I could try to save her, but I’m to tired for that. Maybe I should have told her her powers would come when she was a ghost, but a narrator needs to keep the reader invested! I could make her a main character then!” He laughed harder and harder to only himself. He stopped laughing after a while and continued writing. | "Sparklypoo!" The Sorting Hat said.
Katheryne's feline ears perked up, "Don't you mean Gryffindor?" she asked.
"We've had so many students that we had to start a new House to accommodate them all. The Sparklypoo table is on the end there." Professor McGonagall dismissively said as she nonchalantly pointed at a table, overwhelmingly filled with pretty young girls with amazing hair and and unusual eyes, though a few males were there too, most of strangely similar to some of the other students at other Houses.
It was hard being the last of her kind. The cat people were persecuted relentlessly by both muggles and mages, for their alien appearance or or out of jealousy for their immense magical powers respectively. It was harder still when there were at least four other catgirls seated at the table.
She was lost in thought but snapped out of it when a new student started speaking to Professor McGonagall.
"My name is Serenity Moonflower. I'm a transfer student from American and I already know a LOT more magic than any 7th year. I'm Harry's half-sister, Dumbledore's daughter, Voldemort's niece..." Serenity told Minerva as much as she could before being cut off. *How rude,* Serenity thought.
*Wait...* Katheryne thought as her cat person senses detected a shift in perspective. *I thought we'd be focusing on me...*
"Sparklypoo!" The Sorting Hat said again.
Serenity was confused. "Huh? What's Sparklypoo? Don't you mean Griffindor?"
*Yet another one.* The Sorting Hat mused to itself. *It's amusing how many of these Sparklypoo kids think they deserve to be in Gryffindor, or Dark Wizard Bootcamp because they think they have the qualities Slytherin pretends to have.*
Meanwhile, Snape bitterly told Dumbledore to be quiet about that night of drunken debauchery that resulted in him siring at least 24 children and birthing at least 8, most of whom are now sitting not too far from him at the new House table.
*Hey, stop shifting perspectives!*... Katheryne angrily thought. *This is my story.*
No it's not. You're just a bit character in an ensemble. You had your moment, now it's time to move on to the other characters in my r/writingprompt tribute to the Sparklypoo comic. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get through the perspectives of Malfoy, Harry, Professor Nephente, the various unnamed Sparklypoo characters... OW! what the hell?
*I've used my psychic cat person powers to launch a psychic attack on you!* Katheryne thought defiantly. *Tell my story or I'll blast you again!*
Do cat people even have psychic powers?
*I didn't mention this to Serenity, but I'm the Chosen One. That gives me amazing psychic powers!*
That's supposed to be Harry! And it's a prophecy twist about who Voldemort went after, it could have been Neville in an alternate timeline! And what's this crap about psychic powers?
*I meant of the cat people!* Katheryne thinks annoyedly, *Our prophecy says that the last of our kind will bring about a rebirth of our people and that...*
But there are at least four other cat girls at the table!
*Those are different breeds of cat people. My kind have pink hair...* She was interrupted before she could finish that thought.
You know what? This is swinging into uncomfortable territory. I'm just skipping ahead.
*Wait no!*
\~\~\~\~
Amid a ruined dorm, a pink haired young girl in a miniskirt, refusing to allow the other members of Sparklypoo hog any of the attention and power, charged up her final attack. She dismissed the complaints about her spell being too dangerous to use indoors, or that it wasn't even from Harry Potter. "DRAGON SLAVE!!!!1" she screamed, unleashing enough energy to vapourize everyone there.
\~\~\~\~
The next morning, Professor Snape walked over to Professor Nephente.
"Sorry to hear about your House getting blown up." He said with uncharacteristic concern.
"Mm." Anastasia grunted as she sipped her coffee, "It's unfortunate but, really, it was to be expected. There were far too many of them." a gleam in her eye appeared as she reminisced, "I know it sounds silly, but... I think I'll miss them. I've gotten so used to the sound of their high-pitched giggling, lulling me to sleep..."
Snape looked over her shoulder in shock as a familiar voice spoke behind her, "Maybe you just need someone to tuck you in..."
Snape snarled, "Lupin?! What are you doing here?"
Anastasia smiled as her old acquaintance walked over, "Anastasia and I are old friends. When I heard about the accident, I came straight over. To comfort her."
Snape wasn't having it, "Damnit, she's mine!"
"Oh yeah?!" Lupin snarled back before the two resorted to blows.
Everything was falling into place. Professor Anastasia Nephente had cleared out the members of Sparklypoo, allowing her total control of the Sueniverse. As Hermione told her how much she looked up to her, as Malfoy renounced his muggle-hating ways, as Dumbledore gave her the position of Headmistress, as she healed the bad blood between Lupin and Snape with a single sentence, and as a handsome new charms teacher replaced that ugly goblin, Filius, things were falling into place.
"I won't let you! " Katheryne's ghost yelled as tried to intervene in a desperate attempt to remain relevant, but Professor Nephente banished her without any trouble.
"What was that?" Professor Greenleaf asked.
"Oh nothing. Just a loose end," Anastasia said, smiling, "Say, professor Greenleaf? How about we get some coffee, if you know what I mean?"
"Of course." He said as he walked off with Professor Nephente. | 2021-07-04T11:14:42 | 2021-07-04T11:07:24 | 87 | 28 |
[WP] Your supervillain nemesis is little more than goofy comedy relief, always coming up with clunky machines and insane, nonsensical schemes. When a new dangerous villain appeared, your nemesis utterly destroyed them, and then continued on like nothing happened. | Ultraman listened with a slight smile as Über Destructo Gigadeath ranted about his last evil scheme that would see all ice cream flavours turn to licorice.
It was, to be fair, one of the eviler schemes the young man had come up with.
Licorice. Brr.
Anyway, Destructo was perhaps the most harmless of villains in Central City and with his over the top displays, silliness and hamminess had even garnered something of a fanbase (he had signed autographs that one time and his Mad Cooking channel on YouTube had a million subscribers)
"You shall never get away with this, fiend!" Ultraman called good naturally.
Like many heroes he played along with Destructo. Seriously, the guy send the League Christmas cards.
He was about to respond to the latest taunts...when the sky darkened.
Alarmed Ultraman looked up...and paled as he saw the distinctive patterns of red and black crawling around the planet.
"No. No no no no no..."
"Ultraman, what is it?" Destructo had come closer, looking concerned.
"Get out of here, James. Run as fast as you can. We...we will try to stop it"
Destructo frowned. "Stop what?"
Ultraman shook his head and prepared to take off "No time"
A hand grabbed his muscular arm. "Stop. What." Destructo eyed him carefully "I have never seen you scared before"
Ultraman took a breath. Did it matter now anyway? He saw the familiar figure of red and black smoke descent through the atmosphere. Vaguely humanoid but subtly off in a way that made the eyes hurt.
"The Corruption. A...thing born of the concepts of madness and perversion. It travels the universe and destroys civilisations. Not kills them. But twists and perverts them until there is nothing but fear and suffering. Forever" He took a deep breath, trying to get the dread under control. "I don't know if we can stop it. But we will try" He gave Destructo a faint smile "We have extradomensional evacuation shelters. Spaceships. Try to get to one of them, James, you will be fine, okay?"
Destructo's serious face did not change as he looked from Ultraman to the Corruption. "No"
And then he began to float.
Ultraman blinked. James could fly?
And the idiot was going to confront the Corruption! He had to stop him!
"Stay" James said and Ultraman found himself unable to move, helpless to do anything but watch and listen.
"And what are you supposed to be?" The mocking voice of the Corruption asked. A billion alien voices wailing and screaming. "A little joke of a man, desperate for attention?"
"Yes. I am the laughter, the silliness. The joke. But not the punchline"
Their voices echoed over the city. The country. Somehow, everyone could hear then.
"Oh you are. You so are. Let me show you..."
"No. I've seen you. I know what you are. Broken. Fearful. You are the mind fleeing from reality. A mistake"
"Exactly! I am the final truth in this world! Random suffering! Pointless destruction!"
"No. I saw you. I met you. And I moved past you. You are a temporary aberration. A distraction. Be gone"
"You think you can..."
BE. GONE.
Ultraman clutched his head as reality buckled.
A wound in the cosmos was erased. The Corruption snuffed out like a candle.
Thousands of light-years away entire civilisations woke up from collective nightmares and regained their sanity.
Ultraman looked around. The sky was restored.
The Corruption gone.
The only sign anything had happened at all was the eery silence in Central City.
James stood in front of him, an awkward and unsure smile on his face. "So...icecream?" he asked, unable to meet Ultramabs eyes.
Ultraman thought of James. Of a being able to kill something more powerful than the gods. Of someone able to rearrange reality at a whim. Who used it to play cops and robbers.
Heh. That *was* actually pretty funny.
Slowly he smiled. "You shall never get away with this!"
Destructo relaxed, shoulders slumping in relief "Aha! But how will you catch me when you have to deal with my...*Ice Cream Minions!* Muahahaha!" | As soon as the shots rang out, I knew he was dangerous. He wasn’t like the other supervillains—hell, I wouldn’t even *call* him a supervillain. The others were quirky, cackling ne’er-do-wells with a penchant for showmanship. This man wore no cape or spandex. He didn’t monologue about his tragic backstory or his nefarious plots. All he had was a gun and a bone to pick. His actions weren’t part of a performance, but rather means to his ends. He was nothing but a criminal, and it was terrifying.
All of downtown was in a panic. Civilians scrambled to leave the scene, when before, they’d ogle my fights from the sidelines. It felt like somebody had changed the force of gravity—the cartoon physics didn’t work anymore: falling anvils actually killed; people who were pancaked by the impact stayed prone. In other words, the fun was over. The criminal scowled at me from behind the aim of his weapon, and I wondered what good the powers of flight and low-level magic could do against hollow point rounds.
“Oops—sorry—‘scuse me—lemme just slip past ya, there—sorry!” A familiarly squeaky voice piqued my attention above the miscellaneous sounds of chaos. It couldn’t be…and yet, as I scanned the fleeing crowds, it was easy to find her. Pixie was shuffling against the flow of people, working her way towards the criminal and I. Her pink hair and tutu were hard to miss. “There you are!” she exclaimed as she popped past the last of her obstacles, dusting her skirt off and smiling at us. “Hope you don’t mind me dropping in.”
“Pixie, what are you doing here?!” I hissed.
The criminal casually swung his aim onto her and cocked his head slightly. Bemused, and maybe a little curious. Any emotion other than misanthropic vitriol was an improvement, in my books.
“Alright, I’ll bite,” he said. “What’s your schtick?”
“I,” she declared, putting her hands on ber hips, “am Manic Pixie Nightmare Woman, and the hero you’ve currently standing off against is my nemesis! So I’d appreciate it if you kindly backed down and stopped trying to play on my turf.”
The criminal scoffed. My heart sank. This man was going to blast Pixie in half and use her corpse to beat me into submission. What chance does a house cat have against a tiger?
“And if I don’t?” The criminal asked.
Pixie faltered, but only for a second, as if her peppy facade was glitching. She replied, “Then I’ll kill you.”
This elicited a laugh, though it sound more like a barking dog. “Kill me? How? I’ve seen you fight—if you can call it that. The Powerpuff girls could take you out.” Smiling like a predator, he lowered his gun, and I perked up a bit. Classic mistake to let one’s guard down while mocking an enemy—maybe this guy had a bit of supervillain in him, after all.
Pixie, meanwhile, was frowning, though it was hard to tell if she was pouting at the criminal’s ridicule or concentrating on convincing herself that he was wrong. “I can kill you,” she said. “I totally can. Just gotta psych myself up for it.”
Reaching out her empty hands, she took a step towards him—then stopped, holding herself back. Then she stepped forwards again. “Let me just—hmm! Ohhh, I don’t wanna do it!” She balled her hands up at her sides. Inhale, exhale. She glared at him. “Okay. Are you officially standing your ground? Because if you don’t back off now, I’ll actually have to try this.”
“Oh, I’m staying here, all right,” the criminal said. His arms were relaxed at his sides at this point. I wondered if I could accost him with something while his attention was preoccupied—but my traditional combat skills were never the best, and honestly, I was as distracted by Pixie as he was. I hoped to God she wasn’t going to try to use her enchanted ukulele on him. He’d crush her like a particularly uninteresting bug.
What really confused me, though, was how much Pixie seemed to be struggling with herself. It was clear, now, that her hesitation lied not in her confidence in her abilities, but rather her reticence to kill. The criminal was goading her to come at him, and she cringed as she walked forward with both hands outstretched. Being only a couple inches over five feet, she actually beckoned him to lean down a little once she got close to him. His shining, wicked grin showed his willingness to watch her try—for her to give him all she’s got. Her dainty hands, with their pink fingerless gloves and their sparkling nail polish, reached out to either side of his skull. Then she clenched them, and his skull crumpled in her grasp like a cream puff.
It took me a while to understand what I was looking at. It took the criminal a while to understand that he was dead. The entire upper half of his head was a red pulp in Pixie’s hands. His mouth dropped its smile. She let go of her fistfuls of hair and skull and brain, stepping back from his now-corpse, and it collapsed like an abandoned puppet. Holding her blood-soaked palms up in front of her, she spun to face me with a look of devastation.
“I’m so sorry!” she cried. “I didn’t mean to step on your toes, but this guy was so out of your wheelhouse. I didn’t want anything bad to happen.”
“You. Uh.”
“I honestly thought he’d try to fight back. At least to humour me. Then there’d be a real brawl, and maybe it’d lead to a way to incapacitate him. But nope! He just let me walk right up and do it. And I mean—I couldn’t *not* kill him, then!”
“How…how did you do that?” I asked.
“What? Oh. Super strength.” She clenched and unclenched her hands. “It feels like crumpling a paper mâche model, if the model was full of finger jello and red paint.”
“You,” I sputtered, “don’t *have* super strength!”
“Yeah I do. I just don’t use it. It’s like playing with cheat codes—it’s not impressive to win fights based on unfairly overpowered abilities. A victory only counts if I do it myself, with skills or gadgets or plans. Plus,” she said, smiling sheepishly, “it’s honestly harder to *not* kill people when I use it, so I feel better keeping it off the table altogether.” She continued to play with the blood on her hands, separating her fingers and watching it form sticky strands between her digits. “Hey, I’m not gonna be, like, arrested for murder for this, right?”
I sighed. Despite how utterly surprising this turns of events was, in some ways, it was classic Pixie. | 2022-10-13T20:53:30 | 2022-10-13T20:07:05 | 167 | 98 |
[WP] Every person in the world develops a weird mutation/power the day they turn 16. Everyone's powers are always different, some more insignificant than others. You turn 16, and watch as all your friends discover their newfound ability's. That is, until you discover the severity of your own. | The government didn't deal with the coming of the powers very well in the first few years, but they eventually put a handle on it after years of political debates, fueled by corporate interest in the economic impacts they would have. Once the government got its shit together for the most part, they revealed their plan to the public. Once records indicated that a person was one week away from turning sixteen, they would report to a specialized hospital that was made to research and categorize the power once the person received it. If your power was deemed dangerous to public health, then you were either given the choice of "humane termination", or being used as a living research subject. More often than not, however, those with the militarily advantageous "dangerous" powers were given the option of enlisting in the military.
My friends, most of them a month or two older than me, began to receive their powers. They would come home from quarantine, as dangerous powers were fairly rare, and either hide their power in embarrassment, or show them off to all of us, flaunting their new trick.
Most of them were mundane; the ability to manipulate their body in unnatural ways (spin their neck 360 degrees) or to change their skin color. The coolest I had seen by far was something that while a little unorthodox, was going to pay off when he inevitably became a prostitute - he could sexually arouse anyone at any time.
The day I left for quarantine, my mom drove me to the hospital, a huge smile on her nervous face, blathering on about all of the wonderful presents I would get when i got back, and the cake I would get, and that I shouldn't worry, my power would be completely normal and she was sure of it somehow. But she wasn't sure of it. No one was. Not even the greatest minds in the world could figure out where they were coming from, or how they worked, or what was so important about 16. They just... happened. I got out of the car, my heart beating in anticipation of what was about to come even though I wouldn't receive my powers for a week. My mom and I exchanged hugs, and she kissed me a million times, and she was off. I walked to the registration desk, waiting in line behind other anxious 15 year olds just as anxious as I was, and waited to be called on. My time came up, and without thinking I gave her the information she asked for, and was told to report to my room for preliminary exams. The doctor came in, a forced smile on his face as he took my blood pressure, my vitals, and a blood sample and repeated what he must have 15,000 times: "Don't worry, it'll be a week and you'll probably be out of here kiddo." But he didn't know that. He was just trying to make us feel better, so our blood pressure didn't spike or mess with his test results. I went about the week, being tested twice a day, as normal. They offered alternate schooling while in the hospital, and recreational activities as well.
And then.
And then, it was my day.
I was woken up 3 and 1/2 hours before my birth time, so the doctors could have time to strap me into the observation chair and attach the probes. They finished five minutes before the moment. Those five minutes were the longest in my life. As the clock ticked down, I wondered, Scared, nervous, anxious. As the clock hit the moment, I expected some bright flash of light, but nothing happened. There was no sound, no big bang. It was the same. I breathed a sigh of relief, and waited for the doctors to unstrap me. But they didn't. So i waited a minute longer, and then shouted for them to get me out. "We will wait until we see a sign of what your power is, sir." Great. I was stuck here until something happened. The straps of the chair were starting to restrict my bloodflow, and my arm started to fall asleep. I made my hands into fists, trying to get the blood moving again. Why did they have to use leather straps? This was 2030, there were better technologies. I wish these straps were gone. I felt the straps go away, and thought the doctors had decided to take them off. I got up out of the chair and moved over to the door, and tried opening it but to no avail, they must have locked it for the patients who had super-strength powers. I wish this door was gone. I turned back around, and the door was missing from its hinges. Not opened, not broken, just... gone.
I wondered if this was some practical joke from the doctors, making me think i had telekinesis, until i heard gasps over the microphone. "Patient, please stay put." I heard him click a button, that i suppose he assumed would turn off the microphone. It didn't work. "That shouldn't have happened. Search the database for anything like this, Miley. If what I think happened just happened, we're going to have to eliminate him as soon as possible."
I was stunned. There was no way... No way that my power somehow involved wishing things away. But to be safe, I tried again. I wish the chair was gone.
And it was gone. No trace. This defied everything I had been taught in physics class - matter can't just disappear. This was some Doctor Manhattan level shit right here.
And then I smiled. No one could get in my way now. Nothing was an issue anymore.
I wish those doctors were gone.
| At 16, you get a mutation, and only one mutation, they say. At 16, your life really begins. I never realized just how true it was. It’s funny. As my friends all hit 16, all gained their powers, I thought that surely I’d get one that surpassed all of them. That I’d be the greatest mutant ever. I never realized just how true that sentiment was.
I walked down the street, keeping my head low. It was a lazy Saturday morning and I liked to take brisk walks, feel the heat of the sun on my skin, the chill of the wind causing goosebumps. I could hear running behind me before my vision suddenly went blank and my body nearly toppled over from their weight.
“Guess who?” a high pitch voice asked. I’ve told her that I don’t like it when she does this. I hate being snuck up on, and my girlfriend doesn’t like the idea of another woman wrapping her arms around me so much either.
It had been a couple years ago that my best friend Dave had turned 16. I asked him what his power was, but it wasn’t until a month later that I found out. On my girlfriend’s 16th of all days. She was blowing out the candles on her cake. Dave took me into one of the bedrooms.
“Do you think I should let everyone know?” he asked as I turned around from closing the door. “I’ve got the power, mine as well use it, right?”
Looking back at me was a woman that looked very Dave-like, standing in his clothes which were clearly oversized for his much tinnier body. A blush was on her face and I understood why she hadn’t wanted to reveal who she was.
“Sure, why not, stranger things have happened,” I said. It was true. There was a guy with the utters of a cow sticking out of his stomach. And he couldn’t turn that off. “You have a girl name to use though?”
“Sandie?” she chirped.
Back on the adventures of my walk, I felt her hands release my eyes as I answered, “Sandie?”
“Of course,” she said, smiling at me. After a couple weeks of going back and forth, Dave started to stay as Sandie more often, until Dave just disappeared one day.
“You coming to my party tonight?” she asked.
I looked down at the sidewalk and kicked a pebble back into someone’s front yard. Then I looked up at the sun, directly into its beating heart, its rays penetrating every bone beneath my skin.
“Yeah, Elizabeth really wants to go,” I replied.
And so later that night I met up with Elizabeth and we headed to Sandie’s party. Why she was having a party escaped me, but why Sandie did what she did often escaped me. Apparently I’m not the only one.
I watched as Elizabeth, graced with the ability to fly, levitateed towards some of her friends, her feet never touching the ground. I must admit, I was a bit jealous. Still am. Who wouldn’t want such a cool ability?
“Noah!” a rather large man said, running over towards me. I was surprised to see Elizabeth’s older brother at Sandie’s party.
“Mike!” I replied, shaking his hand. His whole midsection looked like some huge, overinflated beach-ball. “Hey, seeing as though you’re here, you think I can talk to you for a second?”
“No problem,” he replied, mindful of his swinging midsection. Poor bastard. I certainly don’t envy him.
“I want to ask your permission to ask for your sister’s hand in marriage,” I said to him bluntly. “I’m proposing to her tonight.”
“Seriously?” he said, looking almost taken aback. He fumbled in his wallet for something and then showed it to me. “That’s awesome! Now you’ll actually be my bro. But you see this girl in the picture?”
I looked and saw him and Elizabeth at some birthday party. Judging by how he was still in shock over his mutation, I figured it was his 16th. Which meant that the cute girl staring back was a 14 year old Elizabeth, from before I met her. They stood around a table with birthday cake on it, as well as glasses of half-drunken milk. She was pretty cute with a milk mustache.
“You better take good care of her, or you’ll answer to me,” Mike told me. His gaze was dead serious.
“Yes sir,” I replied. It never did cross my mind until I went to bed that the only glass of milk untouched in the photo was Elizabeth’s.
Later that night I sat beneath the stars. The moon was out in the sky, a full large moon and it lit up the blanket we laid on nicely. I caressed her cheek.
“It won’t work,” the dull, slow voice said. I ignored it and continued to lay on the blanket with her.
“Look, Elizabeth, there’s something I wanted to ask you,” I started. But the voice interrupted me again. I stared up at the moon and yelled profanities into the night wind.
“I’m just trying to help you,” the voice said. “I’ve been talking to you for two years. Don’t you trust me by now? I’ve been alive for eons, I’ve watched humanity since its origins. I know a thing or two about relationships. Which will work and which won’t.”
“Are you alright?” Elizabeth asked, concerned about me. No one knew about my actual powers.
“Yeah,” I replied. “Sorry about that.”
And then I reached into my pocket, pulled out the ring, and got on my knees.
“Will you marry me?”
“No,” she replied. “Look, I’ve actually been meaning to break up with you since I turned 18. We’re going off to separate colleges and everything. Did you really think we were going to stay together?”
And so I walked away, not another word, and headed home, tossing the ring in a bush along the way. Not the wisest decision, but I couldn’t bare to hold on to it.
“Told you so,” the voice said.
I stopped in my tracks, my fist raised high in the sky.
“Well fuck you Moon! So you’re right. You’re always right. Happy now? Just let me wallow in my misery.”
“Thank you,” the moon replied back to me. “The Sun owes me a solar eclipse now.”
“How does that work?” I asked, my rage suddenly gone, replaced by curiosity. I’ve learned a lot since I started being able to talk to the sun and the moon. Never knew they could talk. Apparently I’m the only one with the mutation though.
“Science is so full of itself,” the Moon laughed. “Only reason we do eclipses is because we lose bets to each other. And stop moping. You want to know what else is going on in the world right now? I can see it all. Trust me, being dumped isn’t the worst of it.”
“Thanks for the pep talk,” I said sarcastically. “You know I thought I was crazy at first when you guys started talking to me. But you’ve given me so much wisdom and knowledge. Things that others can’t seem to understand. With you two, I’ll be able to usher in a new age of humanity, a golden age full of peace and happiness.”
“Well, we’re just glad to have someone to talk to,” the Moon said.
Suddenly I felt my body twerk as a car hit me and I flew into their windshield, rolling over onto the ground. The car drove off speedily as I got up. Not even a scratch. The ground I fell on though had some rather large cracks. You’d think I’d at least bruise or have a little blood, but I can’t remember the last time I did.
“Why didn’t you tell me a car was coming?!” I shouted to the Moon as he laughed.
“That was awesome!”
And so I walked home, yet again failing to realize, as I so often did, what was really going on. Of course that night, when my little sister who had just turned 16 today, used her powers on me, a whole new wave of understanding would come over me. I’d finally understand all the things I’d been missing for the last few years. But at the moment I continued walking, laughing and conversing with the Moon, wondering what the Sun might have to say about all this. | 2015-01-21T19:53:03 | 2015-01-21T19:45:47 | 1,029 | 65 |
[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? | "You should sit. We have walked far."
Through some window my eyes were not privy to, some impossible breach in the air, he entered his arms and withdrew two bone-white stools. He offered one into my outstretched hand, and I felt - reassuringly - a smooth, dry wood. I knew I was in Hell, or some equally unfathomable realm, but it lacked the fires and suffering heralded by the holy books. It did seem a little mournful, perhaps.
"Are you uncomfortable with your surroundings?"
When the man spoke, it was as though in tandem with another. His voice was a pleasant baritone, but layered over undertones of deep bass. Every word seemed simultaneously a dry, scholastic tone and a playful sing-song. It was mystifying, but though I felt I should have found it frightening, it actually seemed calming to me. The appearance of the man was almost as pleasing and strange as his voice - a medium height and build (though, bareshirted as he was, I could see his picturesque muscle tone) and dark-skinned as the men of the middle-east, or perhaps of India. I knew I was in the company of Satan, and I did not speak.
Actually, as an atheist, I wasn't really sure of the etiquette when it came to conversation with such beings. It didn't seem to matter too much - he could read a man like a book from his body language, his countenance, even his eyes alone - and he seemed more than happy to speak.
"Michael, we are acquainted. In fact, I am quite pleased to have you in my company. Your voice has been some slight reassurance to me in this... pit. You were not faithful, and had little academic knowledge of realms beyond your own anyway, but in case you have any preconceived notions... I will inform you about your afterlife.
"This is Hell. When a human dies, it has a spirit which (usually) goes to Heaven. Our Father is patient and forgiving with human mistakes. Humans tend not to have much recognition of the incredible multitude of factors at play in the sculpting of their lives, but their free will tends to be guided by those... well, in short, when someone makes a mistake any momentary ill-will is often eventually passed on to others. Through that subtle guidance, the way they react to situations sometimes deviates from their nature...
"All humans are inherently good. That waterfall of mistakes is the embodiment of the original sin. In fact, you are the only human in Hell.
"The road we are walking leads to the gates."
The gates of Hell? The gates of Heaven?
"Time is not analogous to that of the human realm, here. Ever since I was cast out, I have heard your voice - once every hundred, or thousand years. I once heard your voice twice in a day. Once, it was twenty thousand and four hundred years between. I always heard your gratitude to me."
I always thanked the Dark Lord after something good happened. Not seriously. It was a joke when I started in my teenage years, but soon it became a philosophical exercise. The activity of thanking someone recognises that something good happened, and that made me happier. It felt like a lot of good things happened to me, in my life. Satan began to openly weep.
"Michael, to me, you are the most important human since the Son of our Father. He was human too, you know. He was the Son of the Father but he was human too. He started a movement. A movement of goodness. An absolvement for the sins of the humans.
"Your gratitude to me, I was not so narcissistic to enjoy it in vanity. Your gratitude is symbolic. You too, like the Son, pushed the humans a little bit further towards their own goodness. Actually, you were the tipping point. To me, it has happened, but to you, it is one day in the future - one day, when all humans are good to each other. One day, when all humans are true to their nature. One day, when all humans become one with our Father."
Where are we going, Satan? What gate are you taking me to? I asked in my head. The tears streaming down his face seemed to catch an odd light, and I swore for one second - at a strange angle - I saw myself, my lips moving, posing the question. This realm is beyond my perception.
"Michael... you are taking me home." | Dawn came down on the night, hard, cracking open that velvety, star-flecked sky like a thrush's egg, and trickling over the city in fat yellow gobs was that slow soupy sunlight, making way for another crisp autumn morning. In their homes, all the dogs and cats scratched and yapped at their owners' beds, looking to be fed for the first time in hours. Small children woke up earlier than what seemed possible to drowsy parents, who had impossibly hard times waking them up on school days. The many and groaning hordes of senior citizens shuffled out from quiet places, looking for the most *bang-for-your-buck* early bird specials; while the criminals, and hoodlums, and jobless teens slunk out from the glare of flickering streetlights and into the shadows, which would soon be exposed.
Oblivious to all of this, to the hustle and bustle of a new day in a new city, was Felix Clover, who just moments ago unwittingly stepped in front of a passing city bus, and was concurrently flattened to the approximate dimensions of a pancake. He had not a moment to search the dreary face of the bus driver—who in all fairness had had a long day and was, funnily enough, one stop away from getting off his shift—before things went dark and the sky opened up above him.
He realized he was dead even in the moment before he died. It was just one of those things: *ante-mortem post-cognition,* you might call it. He *felt* the life leave his body even before blood was leaking from him like he was a ringed sponge, which was strange in itself as the connection between his nerves and his brain had been about as communicative as a satellite and a modem on the opposite sides of the universe.
Felix's new location was also helpful in identifying his state of being. The thin man had arrived in a long, marble hall, that started off a dash narrow, but grew out as one walked toward the not far-off "light at the end of the tunnel." Eventually the white, fixture-adorned ceiling tapered off, opening up to blue skies, filled with the kind of wispy clouds that spoke of sunny rays and happy days. He walked free of the tunnel-walkway thing, and shuffled into the center of a wide grassland that overlooked a sprawling cityscape, a strange Fey reflection of the place wherein he lived and died. It was New York as seen through a kaleidoscope.
"I thank you, Dark Lord," he mumbled reflexively, a little habit he had picked up after reading the *Hobbit*, coming to misunderstand the concept of "Reverse Psychology" shortly thereafter. A queer pulse went throughout the surrounding environs, like heat shivering in the air—but Felix went on, heedless. "I was real scared that when I died I wouldn't know, and everything about me would just... go. My essence would be gone, and Felix Clover would cease to exist. But even if this is some trick, or bizarrely disguised Hell, or a remarkably cruel and convoluted trap. Even if it is, at least my being will live on."
Appearances were appearances and usually what you saw was what you got, but Felix knew—*inherently knew* that he had not been pulled up into heaven by some benevolent deity, gifted a blessed eternity among willing girls and free booze. Sure, it *looked* like a paradise, straight out of the masturbatory fantasy of some militant fanatic from the Middle East in fact, but there was a strangeness about the air, an undertone which the place assumed he was privy to.
*What a strange thing,* he thought, *usually places can't really assume anything.*
But he'd never been anywhere like this before, so all bets were off. And, really, this one was different.
A few meters ahead the grassland came to an abrupt halt; or, well, not a *halt* so much as a 100-ft drop down a steep cliff-side, laden with strange, twining branches and sharp jagged rocks. He wondered, abstractly, how harmful things—that would have checked the little *Dead* box on his Human card when he was living—would affect him now. Would he die again, only to be sent back to the tunnel? Or would he toil beneath the cliffs in immortal agony, dying but never dead? Or did this place fold beneath his will like the fabric of his lucid dreams? Or—
Above the harsh lines of the strange New York, there was a great black stretch of something, which Felix had been ignoring, quite purposely, up to this point. He had been doing so because atop what looked to be a floating slab of black marble was a great chair. And on the chair had reclined a being so foul, so contemptuous, so... well, dark—and no one wants to stare at some abyssal figure, especially not when it stirs a feeling, tickles an unknown half-memory that can't *quite* be recalled. That figure *had* been reclining, but what now caught Felix's attention stood at the edge of an inky, floating precipice. Seemed to be looking right at him.
Deciding that his next logical move was to get there and greet that dark figure—which was about the standard logic of any video game hero, something Felix would have ballooned with pride, had he known—he walked toward the out-of-place monorail that jutted from the flat edge of the cliff and out over the green-grey water below. There was no train, just an *on-rails* ball of clear glass and sleek, dark metal. Felix looked around one final time, admiring the emptiness of the plain, then he swung open the door and hopped inside.
Much like on an elevator, there was a selection of destinations for him to choose from. The *menu*, if you will, was remarkably like an iPad, set into the center panel of the tram. He read down the list of available locations:
**Harmonius Chamber** No.
**Dynasty Tribunal Room** No.
**Three Hidden Lusts of the Granite Maiden (Floor 1)** No.
**Three Hidden Lusts of the Granite Maiden (Floor 2)** Double no.
**Three Hidden Lusts of the Granite Maiden (Floor 3)** Triple nope.
There must be thousands of these locations, he thought. He scanned his eyes all along the endless array of flat buttons on the flat touchscreen, and eventually found a *Search* bar. He had to admit it was convenient, but only if you knew what you were looking for. He typed the first thing that came to mind. And Lady Luck was with him. *I thank you, Dark Lord.*
**Dark Sky Tower (Floor 1)**
And on and on, until...
**Dark Sky Tower (Floor 848)**
**Dark Sky Tower (Floor 849)**
**Dark Sky Tower (Roof, Floor 850 - The Black Court)** <
Felix jammed his finger against the "button," and was soon speeding across the sky at mach 6. | 2015-08-17T01:18:49 | 2015-08-17T00:53:01 | 1,022 | 11 |
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