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[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | Twenty five years.
Twenty five years she laughed. She lived. She was kind. Certainly far from perfect, but she was kind.
Twenty five years. And there were so many more ahead. There should have been.
But he made a decision.
I've been watching him. I watched him that morning. That cool, crisp morning when she'd been on her way to work. Coffee in one hand, car keys in the other.
I watched him catch her off guard. Watched him pin her, watched her struggle. Watched her weep and scream when he...
I watched her crumble to the ground. I watched him abandon her battered body.
I watched red trickle into the grass. Watched it drip onto the concrete.
He used to watch her. And now I'm watching him.
It's late. Not beyond midnight, but close.
The bar's door swings open. Music and laughter pours out into the street. Arguments, cigarette smoke.
Three people step out. A woman and two men. She's homely looking with long brown hair. She seems a bit out of sorts. One man is tall, his dark hair speckled with hints of white.
And the third..
The man and woman say goodbye to the third. They leave. The third goes in another direction.
And I'm watching him.
It's quiet. The sounds from the bar are dying out. Aside from the occasional hum of traffic or a distant siren, it's quiet.
He has a little sway to his steps. A little stumble.
I catch the scent of alcohol wafting from him.
He pauses. I halt.
A slow turn and he's facing the wall, gently tugging his zipper down. It's urgent, I'd wager.
He stands there, swaying just a little. Eyes closed and a happy hum rumbling past his lips. It's complimented by a trickling drip.
He zips. He turns.
And I'm there.
He opens his eyes. He screams, a terrible bellow.
I silence him, a hand over his mouth like his had been on hers.
He struggles like she had. He weeps and pleads like she had.
"Twenty five years I watched her."
His red, bleary eyes widen as he stares at me. He trembles.
"And now I've been watching you." | Vince stood from his kneeling position, patting his hands off on his coat. Before him was a positively destroyed wall, and another beyond it, and another...
Beyond all of those broken walls was a corpse, laying in the living room of one of the nearby ground-floor apartments. Policemen swarmed the building, as did confused and sometimes irate residents, wondering why there were new holes leading through their apartments.
"What's your prognosis, detective?"
Vince turned his head, glancing toward his female counterpart- a younger woman, whose exemplary performance in the academy and later on the street let her climb the ranks of the local PD almost effortlessly.
"I said-"
"Power-type guardian, that much is for sure," Vince said. "No other type could bust through this many walls. And we're dealing with one that is very, very angry. The confusing thing is..." He slowly kneeled again, looking over some of the debris. "How is it running around when the host is six feet under?"
"It doesn't seem that far-fetched, Vince," Katrina said. She moved to stand next to him, idly looking over the damage. "... They exist, after all. What's to say one couldn't just roam around?" The concept of a 'hidden' guardian didn't last all that long, in modern society. The phenomenon was documented and researched to the point where it was *almost* common knowledge.
"Here's the thing, Katrina. Guardians are supposed to *die* when the host dies. They aren't supposed to just walk around like the hero of some action flick." He stood again, putting his hands in his pockets. "But we've got no idea what our perp looks like."
"'Perp'? You're calling the guardian a 'perp', now?"
"Take a look around, Kat. We've got ten busted up walls, one dead body, and not a whole lotta answers."
---
Something quick because I'm likely gonna be busy all day. Sorry if it's not exactly what you wanted, but the first thing my mind went to was [JJBA](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/JoJo%27s_Bizarre_Adventure) themes. | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | I thought of Jamie, lying in the woods, while I stood behind Tom as her blood mixed with water and poured down the sink from his hands. *Sixteen years,* I kept thinking with murderous rage. She’d been my shortest charge, but one that I was overly fond of. It is always those with the brightest light that attract the insects.
I held my head right over his shoulder, turning so that my breath bushed against his neck. He flinched and turned around, his eyes still wild from his deed. I smiled, functioning only through the fuel of my revenge.
He removed his clothes, and shoved them into a black bag. Smears of blood remained on the edge of the sink, and the floor had two bloodied footprints.
I walked to his bedroom while he climbed into the shower, and retrieved a hanger. When I returned, I waited for the glass of the shower to cover with steam, and then removed the clothes from the bag, swept the shirt—still soaking wet with her blood—across the floor to spread the blood, and hung it up against the door. Stepping aside, I slammed it shut.
The door of the shower opened, and he leaned his head out. The horror that swept over him reminded me of my days of being a demon. Guardianship was a rehabilitation program, and for the first time since I started, I felt like I was probably going to fail at it.
“Who’s there?” he asked, and climbed out. His face was clean, but strings of light red water dripped down his torso.
“How did it feel?” I whispered and smiled as his eyes helplessly traced the empty room.
I pressed my back against the wall, right across from the mirror, and crossed my arms. My wings, light grey and still in the process of redemption, grew darker by the second. I thought I’d care when the change came, but the fury that filled me sated a hunger that I had long forgotten I had.
He climbed out and wrapped a towel around his waist. Walking over the sink, the vein in his neck twitched with a rising fear. He turned the cold tap, and scooped up the water, splashing it over his face. When he looked up, my face flashed at him through the mirror, and he jumped away, running for the door.
I followed him into the bedroom as he shuffled through his closet throwing out a shirt onto the bed, and grabbed a pair of pants.
I felt a new presence in the room, and heard the flutter of wings behind me. “Kral, it would be wise of you to leave us now.”
“He’s not worth it,” the guardian said, and I heard a knock in the broken floor plank of Tom’s apartment as he stepped closer toward.
“Leave.” He knew better than to try and fight me now. I doubted he gave a single shit about Tom to risk losing the progress of his redemption. A wind blew against my back as Kral disappeared.
I stood behind Tom as he clumsily buttoned his shirt, skipping buttons with his shaking fingers. I pressed my nail against his neck and swiped as hard as I could. The skin did not split, but a red line formed.
“Did she scream?” I asked, my voice bellowing through the room.
Tom tried to run but I caught him by the collar of his shirt and threw him into the corner by the door. I wanted him to see the exit be a step away from him, but know that despite his best efforts he would never get to go through it.
I appeared before him, and he crawled into a ball on the floor, his lip quivering like that of a weeping child.
“I will kill you now, Thomas. And I know this seems like the worst thing that can possibly happen to a man like you in this predicament, but let me tell you this, when you cross the gates of hell, I shall be waiting. There where even death cannot release you.”
*****
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/AlinaKG/comments/4or4yn/demon_rehabilitation_part_2/)
More stories here, /r/AlinaKG | Vince stood from his kneeling position, patting his hands off on his coat. Before him was a positively destroyed wall, and another beyond it, and another...
Beyond all of those broken walls was a corpse, laying in the living room of one of the nearby ground-floor apartments. Policemen swarmed the building, as did confused and sometimes irate residents, wondering why there were new holes leading through their apartments.
"What's your prognosis, detective?"
Vince turned his head, glancing toward his female counterpart- a younger woman, whose exemplary performance in the academy and later on the street let her climb the ranks of the local PD almost effortlessly.
"I said-"
"Power-type guardian, that much is for sure," Vince said. "No other type could bust through this many walls. And we're dealing with one that is very, very angry. The confusing thing is..." He slowly kneeled again, looking over some of the debris. "How is it running around when the host is six feet under?"
"It doesn't seem that far-fetched, Vince," Katrina said. She moved to stand next to him, idly looking over the damage. "... They exist, after all. What's to say one couldn't just roam around?" The concept of a 'hidden' guardian didn't last all that long, in modern society. The phenomenon was documented and researched to the point where it was *almost* common knowledge.
"Here's the thing, Katrina. Guardians are supposed to *die* when the host dies. They aren't supposed to just walk around like the hero of some action flick." He stood again, putting his hands in his pockets. "But we've got no idea what our perp looks like."
"'Perp'? You're calling the guardian a 'perp', now?"
"Take a look around, Kat. We've got ten busted up walls, one dead body, and not a whole lotta answers."
---
Something quick because I'm likely gonna be busy all day. Sorry if it's not exactly what you wanted, but the first thing my mind went to was [JJBA](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/JoJo%27s_Bizarre_Adventure) themes. | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | Twenty five years.
Twenty five years she laughed. She lived. She was kind. Certainly far from perfect, but she was kind.
Twenty five years. And there were so many more ahead. There should have been.
But he made a decision.
I've been watching him. I watched him that morning. That cool, crisp morning when she'd been on her way to work. Coffee in one hand, car keys in the other.
I watched him catch her off guard. Watched him pin her, watched her struggle. Watched her weep and scream when he...
I watched her crumble to the ground. I watched him abandon her battered body.
I watched red trickle into the grass. Watched it drip onto the concrete.
He used to watch her. And now I'm watching him.
It's late. Not beyond midnight, but close.
The bar's door swings open. Music and laughter pours out into the street. Arguments, cigarette smoke.
Three people step out. A woman and two men. She's homely looking with long brown hair. She seems a bit out of sorts. One man is tall, his dark hair speckled with hints of white.
And the third..
The man and woman say goodbye to the third. They leave. The third goes in another direction.
And I'm watching him.
It's quiet. The sounds from the bar are dying out. Aside from the occasional hum of traffic or a distant siren, it's quiet.
He has a little sway to his steps. A little stumble.
I catch the scent of alcohol wafting from him.
He pauses. I halt.
A slow turn and he's facing the wall, gently tugging his zipper down. It's urgent, I'd wager.
He stands there, swaying just a little. Eyes closed and a happy hum rumbling past his lips. It's complimented by a trickling drip.
He zips. He turns.
And I'm there.
He opens his eyes. He screams, a terrible bellow.
I silence him, a hand over his mouth like his had been on hers.
He struggles like she had. He weeps and pleads like she had.
"Twenty five years I watched her."
His red, bleary eyes widen as he stares at me. He trembles.
"And now I've been watching you." | Ember crept through shadows in slow pursuit, there was no rush. Ember had all the time in the world.
Two days prior Tiffany went on a date and was found in a dark alley the next morning by a homeless man. The police swarmed the area looking for clues and trying to discern what happened. Detective Mallory claimed it was a robbery gone wrong and closed the case.
Ember had watched helplessly from the shadows. He knew it wasn't a robbery. Tiffany had been hunted down that night like a deer in the woods. The man tormented her and made her suffer. Ember would return that feeling one thousand fold.
The sound of garbage cans tipping over returned Ember to the hunt. Maybe he had cut the mans leg a little too deeply, Ember thought as he followed the trail of blood through twisting alleyways.
"Help!" the man's cries echoed off of cold brick walls.
No one would come to help. Windows were shut tight and eyes turned away. There would be no rescue in this part of the city. Ember stalked on all fours like a jungle cat. His shadowy skin vanished in the darkness. Blood filled his nostrils, he would bask in the man's suffering for a few moments longer before ending it.
The man crawled toward the mouth of the alley, his wounded leg dragging behind him. He was rambling incoherent words to himself as he tried desperately to escape. Ember thought of poor Tiffany and the way she begged. He bared his razor sharp fangs and bounded forward. He bit into the back of the man's neck and picked him up like a mother cat with a kitten. He tossed his head throwing the man backward into the alley away from the street.
"No, PLEASE NO!" He begged.
"Pathetic," Ember spat the words.
The man had soiled himself. The stench mixed with the metallic pang of blood was repulsive. Ember whipped a clawed paw forward tearing a massive chunk out of the bastard's neck. His body jerked violently and then lay still.
"Sorry Tiffany," Ember whispered as he stalked back into the shadows.
---
Thanks for reading! /r/Written4Reddit | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | "Where the hell are the Cheetos?"
These were not the first words I expected to hear in the afterlife. This is the afterlife, right?
Yeah, that's my severed head over there. I'm definitely dead.
The fat gnome shook the empty chip bag again, creating another orange dust cloud. He licked at the cheesy apparition, and, unsatisfied, lumbered off towards the pantry. "Damn Scott, you gotta have some decent snacks left around here," he garbled.
"Who are you?"
"I'm your guardian, you moron. Been following your lame ass your whole life. Supposed to protect you or avenge you or something." He garbled out a laugh. Or maybe he was hacking phlegm? I couldn't tell.
"I know that. So what are you doing in my pantry? Some dude just burst in and cut my head off!"
"Hell yeah! That was so badass! Way better than watching you play that stupid shooter another 7 hours."
"You worthless---" I tried to shove my floating ghost body towards the grimy gnome. Instead, I found myself 4 feet above the ground. As I soared upwards, I managed to grab hold of the banister to keep myself from crashing into the ceiling. He let loose another phlegmy cackle as he tore open a bag of chips.
"---why aren't you doing anything?" I managed to squeak out, "Aren't you guys supposed to be powerful avengers? Hunting down murders? Haunting them to their last dying breath? Making them pay for---"
My monologue was cut off by the television turning on. The Gnome tossed aside the remote, grabbed a fistful of chips, and kicked back.
"Listen kid. I know you've heard all these fancy stories about guardians taking insane revenge schemes, but the truth is, we learn from you. I spent my life watching you sit on your fat ass. Now it's time for you to watch me do the same." | Ember crept through shadows in slow pursuit, there was no rush. Ember had all the time in the world.
Two days prior Tiffany went on a date and was found in a dark alley the next morning by a homeless man. The police swarmed the area looking for clues and trying to discern what happened. Detective Mallory claimed it was a robbery gone wrong and closed the case.
Ember had watched helplessly from the shadows. He knew it wasn't a robbery. Tiffany had been hunted down that night like a deer in the woods. The man tormented her and made her suffer. Ember would return that feeling one thousand fold.
The sound of garbage cans tipping over returned Ember to the hunt. Maybe he had cut the mans leg a little too deeply, Ember thought as he followed the trail of blood through twisting alleyways.
"Help!" the man's cries echoed off of cold brick walls.
No one would come to help. Windows were shut tight and eyes turned away. There would be no rescue in this part of the city. Ember stalked on all fours like a jungle cat. His shadowy skin vanished in the darkness. Blood filled his nostrils, he would bask in the man's suffering for a few moments longer before ending it.
The man crawled toward the mouth of the alley, his wounded leg dragging behind him. He was rambling incoherent words to himself as he tried desperately to escape. Ember thought of poor Tiffany and the way she begged. He bared his razor sharp fangs and bounded forward. He bit into the back of the man's neck and picked him up like a mother cat with a kitten. He tossed his head throwing the man backward into the alley away from the street.
"No, PLEASE NO!" He begged.
"Pathetic," Ember spat the words.
The man had soiled himself. The stench mixed with the metallic pang of blood was repulsive. Ember whipped a clawed paw forward tearing a massive chunk out of the bastard's neck. His body jerked violently and then lay still.
"Sorry Tiffany," Ember whispered as he stalked back into the shadows.
---
Thanks for reading! /r/Written4Reddit | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | *Mature themes ahead.*
______
I watched her grow up.
From the moment she entered this world, I knew she was mine to protect. The sweet, innocence that was hers was so pure. I realized that I was the one to guide her through life and help her realize her purpose in the world. She was a brilliant little girl, always being the imaginative of the group, always wanting to play just a little longer. I admired that about her. When her father died, I held her hand through his funeral even if she didn't know it. And as her childhood continued, I continued to be by her side. Her mother was a cold person; who never let her have sweets, or hang out with friends too often, or stay out past curfew. I had no control over that. I could only be with her at the end of each day, giving her warmth when she had nothing else.
I watched her rebel.
Her teenage years were some of the best. At least I think they were. Her mother, still cold and distant, didn't care if she stayed out late anymore, or if she hung out with friends. I helped her through her self-confidence issues; the times when she thought she wasn't good enough and would cry herself to sleep at night. I watched her suffer through bouts of depression and anxiety, hoping that she knew that at the end of each day, I was there, holding her tight. I helped her through her breakups with boys; the times when another person would make her feel little or ashamed. And I was there with all of her successes, quietly cheering her on from the sidelines; wishing I could tell her how proud of her I was. I was there when she prevailed over all of it. I was holding her hand.
I watched her become a young woman.
A young lady who prevailed over all of the problems of the past. The depression, the anxiety, the self-confidence and so on. She overcame all of it and became a beautifully smart girl. She got accepted to the best colleges, being forced to leave her mother even though neither of them really wanted to. They both knew they had made mistakes and they both knew they loved each other. She made friends with the right people in her first year at school. Not too crazy and not too shy. She was the imaginative one again, helping her friends as much as they helped her. I wasn't needed. Not for a while. But I still watched, and waited, and smiled; realizing that all along she didn't need me. She did it all by herself, every obstacle she climbed and every challenge she hurdled, she did on her own.
I admired her. I envied her. I loved her.
And I watched her die.
Unable to help in anyway. The man murdered her in cold blood. He took everything about her, the issues of her childhood, the problems of her past, and everything she tried to forget and he brought it back. I watched him take the sweet young woman I was proud to have seen grown up and brutalize her; emotionally and physically. I watched her legs go numb, her eyes grow heavy, and her heart grow cold. But I held her tight, the entire time, I held her. I tried to tell her that everything was going to be okay, that it would be over soon and she'd get to go home to see her family and friends. I told her I was there to protect her. I told her I would keep her warm.
And yet I failed. She died at twenty-two years old; more cold and alone than I had ever seen her. The man who took her life did not seem to care, but I did. I cared with every fiber of my being, with every warm part of my body, with all the love I could muster. I cared about what he did.
So, I watched him. I watched him do whatever he wanted to.
And I made sure that his life would not be one worth living. I made sure that as a Guardian to one who was murdered, I would have my revenge on the murdered. So I watched. I waited.
And I hunted him.
______
*Great prompt OP. If you liked the story above, check out /r/BlankPagesEmptyMugs for more of my work.* | Ember crept through shadows in slow pursuit, there was no rush. Ember had all the time in the world.
Two days prior Tiffany went on a date and was found in a dark alley the next morning by a homeless man. The police swarmed the area looking for clues and trying to discern what happened. Detective Mallory claimed it was a robbery gone wrong and closed the case.
Ember had watched helplessly from the shadows. He knew it wasn't a robbery. Tiffany had been hunted down that night like a deer in the woods. The man tormented her and made her suffer. Ember would return that feeling one thousand fold.
The sound of garbage cans tipping over returned Ember to the hunt. Maybe he had cut the mans leg a little too deeply, Ember thought as he followed the trail of blood through twisting alleyways.
"Help!" the man's cries echoed off of cold brick walls.
No one would come to help. Windows were shut tight and eyes turned away. There would be no rescue in this part of the city. Ember stalked on all fours like a jungle cat. His shadowy skin vanished in the darkness. Blood filled his nostrils, he would bask in the man's suffering for a few moments longer before ending it.
The man crawled toward the mouth of the alley, his wounded leg dragging behind him. He was rambling incoherent words to himself as he tried desperately to escape. Ember thought of poor Tiffany and the way she begged. He bared his razor sharp fangs and bounded forward. He bit into the back of the man's neck and picked him up like a mother cat with a kitten. He tossed his head throwing the man backward into the alley away from the street.
"No, PLEASE NO!" He begged.
"Pathetic," Ember spat the words.
The man had soiled himself. The stench mixed with the metallic pang of blood was repulsive. Ember whipped a clawed paw forward tearing a massive chunk out of the bastard's neck. His body jerked violently and then lay still.
"Sorry Tiffany," Ember whispered as he stalked back into the shadows.
---
Thanks for reading! /r/Written4Reddit | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | I thought of Jamie, lying in the woods, while I stood behind Tom as her blood mixed with water and poured down the sink from his hands. *Sixteen years,* I kept thinking with murderous rage. She’d been my shortest charge, but one that I was overly fond of. It is always those with the brightest light that attract the insects.
I held my head right over his shoulder, turning so that my breath bushed against his neck. He flinched and turned around, his eyes still wild from his deed. I smiled, functioning only through the fuel of my revenge.
He removed his clothes, and shoved them into a black bag. Smears of blood remained on the edge of the sink, and the floor had two bloodied footprints.
I walked to his bedroom while he climbed into the shower, and retrieved a hanger. When I returned, I waited for the glass of the shower to cover with steam, and then removed the clothes from the bag, swept the shirt—still soaking wet with her blood—across the floor to spread the blood, and hung it up against the door. Stepping aside, I slammed it shut.
The door of the shower opened, and he leaned his head out. The horror that swept over him reminded me of my days of being a demon. Guardianship was a rehabilitation program, and for the first time since I started, I felt like I was probably going to fail at it.
“Who’s there?” he asked, and climbed out. His face was clean, but strings of light red water dripped down his torso.
“How did it feel?” I whispered and smiled as his eyes helplessly traced the empty room.
I pressed my back against the wall, right across from the mirror, and crossed my arms. My wings, light grey and still in the process of redemption, grew darker by the second. I thought I’d care when the change came, but the fury that filled me sated a hunger that I had long forgotten I had.
He climbed out and wrapped a towel around his waist. Walking over the sink, the vein in his neck twitched with a rising fear. He turned the cold tap, and scooped up the water, splashing it over his face. When he looked up, my face flashed at him through the mirror, and he jumped away, running for the door.
I followed him into the bedroom as he shuffled through his closet throwing out a shirt onto the bed, and grabbed a pair of pants.
I felt a new presence in the room, and heard the flutter of wings behind me. “Kral, it would be wise of you to leave us now.”
“He’s not worth it,” the guardian said, and I heard a knock in the broken floor plank of Tom’s apartment as he stepped closer toward.
“Leave.” He knew better than to try and fight me now. I doubted he gave a single shit about Tom to risk losing the progress of his redemption. A wind blew against my back as Kral disappeared.
I stood behind Tom as he clumsily buttoned his shirt, skipping buttons with his shaking fingers. I pressed my nail against his neck and swiped as hard as I could. The skin did not split, but a red line formed.
“Did she scream?” I asked, my voice bellowing through the room.
Tom tried to run but I caught him by the collar of his shirt and threw him into the corner by the door. I wanted him to see the exit be a step away from him, but know that despite his best efforts he would never get to go through it.
I appeared before him, and he crawled into a ball on the floor, his lip quivering like that of a weeping child.
“I will kill you now, Thomas. And I know this seems like the worst thing that can possibly happen to a man like you in this predicament, but let me tell you this, when you cross the gates of hell, I shall be waiting. There where even death cannot release you.”
*****
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/AlinaKG/comments/4or4yn/demon_rehabilitation_part_2/)
More stories here, /r/AlinaKG | Ember crept through shadows in slow pursuit, there was no rush. Ember had all the time in the world.
Two days prior Tiffany went on a date and was found in a dark alley the next morning by a homeless man. The police swarmed the area looking for clues and trying to discern what happened. Detective Mallory claimed it was a robbery gone wrong and closed the case.
Ember had watched helplessly from the shadows. He knew it wasn't a robbery. Tiffany had been hunted down that night like a deer in the woods. The man tormented her and made her suffer. Ember would return that feeling one thousand fold.
The sound of garbage cans tipping over returned Ember to the hunt. Maybe he had cut the mans leg a little too deeply, Ember thought as he followed the trail of blood through twisting alleyways.
"Help!" the man's cries echoed off of cold brick walls.
No one would come to help. Windows were shut tight and eyes turned away. There would be no rescue in this part of the city. Ember stalked on all fours like a jungle cat. His shadowy skin vanished in the darkness. Blood filled his nostrils, he would bask in the man's suffering for a few moments longer before ending it.
The man crawled toward the mouth of the alley, his wounded leg dragging behind him. He was rambling incoherent words to himself as he tried desperately to escape. Ember thought of poor Tiffany and the way she begged. He bared his razor sharp fangs and bounded forward. He bit into the back of the man's neck and picked him up like a mother cat with a kitten. He tossed his head throwing the man backward into the alley away from the street.
"No, PLEASE NO!" He begged.
"Pathetic," Ember spat the words.
The man had soiled himself. The stench mixed with the metallic pang of blood was repulsive. Ember whipped a clawed paw forward tearing a massive chunk out of the bastard's neck. His body jerked violently and then lay still.
"Sorry Tiffany," Ember whispered as he stalked back into the shadows.
---
Thanks for reading! /r/Written4Reddit | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | I thought of Jamie, lying in the woods, while I stood behind Tom as her blood mixed with water and poured down the sink from his hands. *Sixteen years,* I kept thinking with murderous rage. She’d been my shortest charge, but one that I was overly fond of. It is always those with the brightest light that attract the insects.
I held my head right over his shoulder, turning so that my breath bushed against his neck. He flinched and turned around, his eyes still wild from his deed. I smiled, functioning only through the fuel of my revenge.
He removed his clothes, and shoved them into a black bag. Smears of blood remained on the edge of the sink, and the floor had two bloodied footprints.
I walked to his bedroom while he climbed into the shower, and retrieved a hanger. When I returned, I waited for the glass of the shower to cover with steam, and then removed the clothes from the bag, swept the shirt—still soaking wet with her blood—across the floor to spread the blood, and hung it up against the door. Stepping aside, I slammed it shut.
The door of the shower opened, and he leaned his head out. The horror that swept over him reminded me of my days of being a demon. Guardianship was a rehabilitation program, and for the first time since I started, I felt like I was probably going to fail at it.
“Who’s there?” he asked, and climbed out. His face was clean, but strings of light red water dripped down his torso.
“How did it feel?” I whispered and smiled as his eyes helplessly traced the empty room.
I pressed my back against the wall, right across from the mirror, and crossed my arms. My wings, light grey and still in the process of redemption, grew darker by the second. I thought I’d care when the change came, but the fury that filled me sated a hunger that I had long forgotten I had.
He climbed out and wrapped a towel around his waist. Walking over the sink, the vein in his neck twitched with a rising fear. He turned the cold tap, and scooped up the water, splashing it over his face. When he looked up, my face flashed at him through the mirror, and he jumped away, running for the door.
I followed him into the bedroom as he shuffled through his closet throwing out a shirt onto the bed, and grabbed a pair of pants.
I felt a new presence in the room, and heard the flutter of wings behind me. “Kral, it would be wise of you to leave us now.”
“He’s not worth it,” the guardian said, and I heard a knock in the broken floor plank of Tom’s apartment as he stepped closer toward.
“Leave.” He knew better than to try and fight me now. I doubted he gave a single shit about Tom to risk losing the progress of his redemption. A wind blew against my back as Kral disappeared.
I stood behind Tom as he clumsily buttoned his shirt, skipping buttons with his shaking fingers. I pressed my nail against his neck and swiped as hard as I could. The skin did not split, but a red line formed.
“Did she scream?” I asked, my voice bellowing through the room.
Tom tried to run but I caught him by the collar of his shirt and threw him into the corner by the door. I wanted him to see the exit be a step away from him, but know that despite his best efforts he would never get to go through it.
I appeared before him, and he crawled into a ball on the floor, his lip quivering like that of a weeping child.
“I will kill you now, Thomas. And I know this seems like the worst thing that can possibly happen to a man like you in this predicament, but let me tell you this, when you cross the gates of hell, I shall be waiting. There where even death cannot release you.”
*****
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/AlinaKG/comments/4or4yn/demon_rehabilitation_part_2/)
More stories here, /r/AlinaKG | Twenty five years.
Twenty five years she laughed. She lived. She was kind. Certainly far from perfect, but she was kind.
Twenty five years. And there were so many more ahead. There should have been.
But he made a decision.
I've been watching him. I watched him that morning. That cool, crisp morning when she'd been on her way to work. Coffee in one hand, car keys in the other.
I watched him catch her off guard. Watched him pin her, watched her struggle. Watched her weep and scream when he...
I watched her crumble to the ground. I watched him abandon her battered body.
I watched red trickle into the grass. Watched it drip onto the concrete.
He used to watch her. And now I'm watching him.
It's late. Not beyond midnight, but close.
The bar's door swings open. Music and laughter pours out into the street. Arguments, cigarette smoke.
Three people step out. A woman and two men. She's homely looking with long brown hair. She seems a bit out of sorts. One man is tall, his dark hair speckled with hints of white.
And the third..
The man and woman say goodbye to the third. They leave. The third goes in another direction.
And I'm watching him.
It's quiet. The sounds from the bar are dying out. Aside from the occasional hum of traffic or a distant siren, it's quiet.
He has a little sway to his steps. A little stumble.
I catch the scent of alcohol wafting from him.
He pauses. I halt.
A slow turn and he's facing the wall, gently tugging his zipper down. It's urgent, I'd wager.
He stands there, swaying just a little. Eyes closed and a happy hum rumbling past his lips. It's complimented by a trickling drip.
He zips. He turns.
And I'm there.
He opens his eyes. He screams, a terrible bellow.
I silence him, a hand over his mouth like his had been on hers.
He struggles like she had. He weeps and pleads like she had.
"Twenty five years I watched her."
His red, bleary eyes widen as he stares at me. He trembles.
"And now I've been watching you." | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | I thought of Jamie, lying in the woods, while I stood behind Tom as her blood mixed with water and poured down the sink from his hands. *Sixteen years,* I kept thinking with murderous rage. She’d been my shortest charge, but one that I was overly fond of. It is always those with the brightest light that attract the insects.
I held my head right over his shoulder, turning so that my breath bushed against his neck. He flinched and turned around, his eyes still wild from his deed. I smiled, functioning only through the fuel of my revenge.
He removed his clothes, and shoved them into a black bag. Smears of blood remained on the edge of the sink, and the floor had two bloodied footprints.
I walked to his bedroom while he climbed into the shower, and retrieved a hanger. When I returned, I waited for the glass of the shower to cover with steam, and then removed the clothes from the bag, swept the shirt—still soaking wet with her blood—across the floor to spread the blood, and hung it up against the door. Stepping aside, I slammed it shut.
The door of the shower opened, and he leaned his head out. The horror that swept over him reminded me of my days of being a demon. Guardianship was a rehabilitation program, and for the first time since I started, I felt like I was probably going to fail at it.
“Who’s there?” he asked, and climbed out. His face was clean, but strings of light red water dripped down his torso.
“How did it feel?” I whispered and smiled as his eyes helplessly traced the empty room.
I pressed my back against the wall, right across from the mirror, and crossed my arms. My wings, light grey and still in the process of redemption, grew darker by the second. I thought I’d care when the change came, but the fury that filled me sated a hunger that I had long forgotten I had.
He climbed out and wrapped a towel around his waist. Walking over the sink, the vein in his neck twitched with a rising fear. He turned the cold tap, and scooped up the water, splashing it over his face. When he looked up, my face flashed at him through the mirror, and he jumped away, running for the door.
I followed him into the bedroom as he shuffled through his closet throwing out a shirt onto the bed, and grabbed a pair of pants.
I felt a new presence in the room, and heard the flutter of wings behind me. “Kral, it would be wise of you to leave us now.”
“He’s not worth it,” the guardian said, and I heard a knock in the broken floor plank of Tom’s apartment as he stepped closer toward.
“Leave.” He knew better than to try and fight me now. I doubted he gave a single shit about Tom to risk losing the progress of his redemption. A wind blew against my back as Kral disappeared.
I stood behind Tom as he clumsily buttoned his shirt, skipping buttons with his shaking fingers. I pressed my nail against his neck and swiped as hard as I could. The skin did not split, but a red line formed.
“Did she scream?” I asked, my voice bellowing through the room.
Tom tried to run but I caught him by the collar of his shirt and threw him into the corner by the door. I wanted him to see the exit be a step away from him, but know that despite his best efforts he would never get to go through it.
I appeared before him, and he crawled into a ball on the floor, his lip quivering like that of a weeping child.
“I will kill you now, Thomas. And I know this seems like the worst thing that can possibly happen to a man like you in this predicament, but let me tell you this, when you cross the gates of hell, I shall be waiting. There where even death cannot release you.”
*****
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/AlinaKG/comments/4or4yn/demon_rehabilitation_part_2/)
More stories here, /r/AlinaKG | "Where the hell are the Cheetos?"
These were not the first words I expected to hear in the afterlife. This is the afterlife, right?
Yeah, that's my severed head over there. I'm definitely dead.
The fat gnome shook the empty chip bag again, creating another orange dust cloud. He licked at the cheesy apparition, and, unsatisfied, lumbered off towards the pantry. "Damn Scott, you gotta have some decent snacks left around here," he garbled.
"Who are you?"
"I'm your guardian, you moron. Been following your lame ass your whole life. Supposed to protect you or avenge you or something." He garbled out a laugh. Or maybe he was hacking phlegm? I couldn't tell.
"I know that. So what are you doing in my pantry? Some dude just burst in and cut my head off!"
"Hell yeah! That was so badass! Way better than watching you play that stupid shooter another 7 hours."
"You worthless---" I tried to shove my floating ghost body towards the grimy gnome. Instead, I found myself 4 feet above the ground. As I soared upwards, I managed to grab hold of the banister to keep myself from crashing into the ceiling. He let loose another phlegmy cackle as he tore open a bag of chips.
"---why aren't you doing anything?" I managed to squeak out, "Aren't you guys supposed to be powerful avengers? Hunting down murders? Haunting them to their last dying breath? Making them pay for---"
My monologue was cut off by the television turning on. The Gnome tossed aside the remote, grabbed a fistful of chips, and kicked back.
"Listen kid. I know you've heard all these fancy stories about guardians taking insane revenge schemes, but the truth is, we learn from you. I spent my life watching you sit on your fat ass. Now it's time for you to watch me do the same." | |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose. | I thought of Jamie, lying in the woods, while I stood behind Tom as her blood mixed with water and poured down the sink from his hands. *Sixteen years,* I kept thinking with murderous rage. She’d been my shortest charge, but one that I was overly fond of. It is always those with the brightest light that attract the insects.
I held my head right over his shoulder, turning so that my breath bushed against his neck. He flinched and turned around, his eyes still wild from his deed. I smiled, functioning only through the fuel of my revenge.
He removed his clothes, and shoved them into a black bag. Smears of blood remained on the edge of the sink, and the floor had two bloodied footprints.
I walked to his bedroom while he climbed into the shower, and retrieved a hanger. When I returned, I waited for the glass of the shower to cover with steam, and then removed the clothes from the bag, swept the shirt—still soaking wet with her blood—across the floor to spread the blood, and hung it up against the door. Stepping aside, I slammed it shut.
The door of the shower opened, and he leaned his head out. The horror that swept over him reminded me of my days of being a demon. Guardianship was a rehabilitation program, and for the first time since I started, I felt like I was probably going to fail at it.
“Who’s there?” he asked, and climbed out. His face was clean, but strings of light red water dripped down his torso.
“How did it feel?” I whispered and smiled as his eyes helplessly traced the empty room.
I pressed my back against the wall, right across from the mirror, and crossed my arms. My wings, light grey and still in the process of redemption, grew darker by the second. I thought I’d care when the change came, but the fury that filled me sated a hunger that I had long forgotten I had.
He climbed out and wrapped a towel around his waist. Walking over the sink, the vein in his neck twitched with a rising fear. He turned the cold tap, and scooped up the water, splashing it over his face. When he looked up, my face flashed at him through the mirror, and he jumped away, running for the door.
I followed him into the bedroom as he shuffled through his closet throwing out a shirt onto the bed, and grabbed a pair of pants.
I felt a new presence in the room, and heard the flutter of wings behind me. “Kral, it would be wise of you to leave us now.”
“He’s not worth it,” the guardian said, and I heard a knock in the broken floor plank of Tom’s apartment as he stepped closer toward.
“Leave.” He knew better than to try and fight me now. I doubted he gave a single shit about Tom to risk losing the progress of his redemption. A wind blew against my back as Kral disappeared.
I stood behind Tom as he clumsily buttoned his shirt, skipping buttons with his shaking fingers. I pressed my nail against his neck and swiped as hard as I could. The skin did not split, but a red line formed.
“Did she scream?” I asked, my voice bellowing through the room.
Tom tried to run but I caught him by the collar of his shirt and threw him into the corner by the door. I wanted him to see the exit be a step away from him, but know that despite his best efforts he would never get to go through it.
I appeared before him, and he crawled into a ball on the floor, his lip quivering like that of a weeping child.
“I will kill you now, Thomas. And I know this seems like the worst thing that can possibly happen to a man like you in this predicament, but let me tell you this, when you cross the gates of hell, I shall be waiting. There where even death cannot release you.”
*****
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/AlinaKG/comments/4or4yn/demon_rehabilitation_part_2/)
More stories here, /r/AlinaKG | *Mature themes ahead.*
______
I watched her grow up.
From the moment she entered this world, I knew she was mine to protect. The sweet, innocence that was hers was so pure. I realized that I was the one to guide her through life and help her realize her purpose in the world. She was a brilliant little girl, always being the imaginative of the group, always wanting to play just a little longer. I admired that about her. When her father died, I held her hand through his funeral even if she didn't know it. And as her childhood continued, I continued to be by her side. Her mother was a cold person; who never let her have sweets, or hang out with friends too often, or stay out past curfew. I had no control over that. I could only be with her at the end of each day, giving her warmth when she had nothing else.
I watched her rebel.
Her teenage years were some of the best. At least I think they were. Her mother, still cold and distant, didn't care if she stayed out late anymore, or if she hung out with friends. I helped her through her self-confidence issues; the times when she thought she wasn't good enough and would cry herself to sleep at night. I watched her suffer through bouts of depression and anxiety, hoping that she knew that at the end of each day, I was there, holding her tight. I helped her through her breakups with boys; the times when another person would make her feel little or ashamed. And I was there with all of her successes, quietly cheering her on from the sidelines; wishing I could tell her how proud of her I was. I was there when she prevailed over all of it. I was holding her hand.
I watched her become a young woman.
A young lady who prevailed over all of the problems of the past. The depression, the anxiety, the self-confidence and so on. She overcame all of it and became a beautifully smart girl. She got accepted to the best colleges, being forced to leave her mother even though neither of them really wanted to. They both knew they had made mistakes and they both knew they loved each other. She made friends with the right people in her first year at school. Not too crazy and not too shy. She was the imaginative one again, helping her friends as much as they helped her. I wasn't needed. Not for a while. But I still watched, and waited, and smiled; realizing that all along she didn't need me. She did it all by herself, every obstacle she climbed and every challenge she hurdled, she did on her own.
I admired her. I envied her. I loved her.
And I watched her die.
Unable to help in anyway. The man murdered her in cold blood. He took everything about her, the issues of her childhood, the problems of her past, and everything she tried to forget and he brought it back. I watched him take the sweet young woman I was proud to have seen grown up and brutalize her; emotionally and physically. I watched her legs go numb, her eyes grow heavy, and her heart grow cold. But I held her tight, the entire time, I held her. I tried to tell her that everything was going to be okay, that it would be over soon and she'd get to go home to see her family and friends. I told her I was there to protect her. I told her I would keep her warm.
And yet I failed. She died at twenty-two years old; more cold and alone than I had ever seen her. The man who took her life did not seem to care, but I did. I cared with every fiber of my being, with every warm part of my body, with all the love I could muster. I cared about what he did.
So, I watched him. I watched him do whatever he wanted to.
And I made sure that his life would not be one worth living. I made sure that as a Guardian to one who was murdered, I would have my revenge on the murdered. So I watched. I waited.
And I hunted him.
______
*Great prompt OP. If you liked the story above, check out /r/BlankPagesEmptyMugs for more of my work.* | |
[WP] As a prank, someone swaps the US constitution with a joke constitution full of absurd rules and laws. No one notices the swap, and those laws start getting enforced. | “Jesus Christ, Betty, tell security to lock the doors, in fact, tell them to put the whole facility on lockdown and dial 911, immediately,” said Lloyd Blankfein, CEO of Goldman Sachs.
“Mr. Blankfein…are you alright?” His secretary asked, as she walked into his executive suite, two guns holstered on each side of her elegant black business skirt.
“Oh my god…please tell me that’s a toy gun,” Blankfein stuttered, flummoxed, sweat bubbling like boiling water on his forehead.
“Mr. Blankfein, you don’t look so good.” Betty added, before looking down, gazing into her iPhone.
“The employees….They have guns,” Lloyd gasped.
“Look,” he shouted, pointing his index finger with the intensity of a bloodhound picking up a scent.
“My god, Betty, is that Harvey Schwartz? He is wearing a Fuck Trump! t-shirt. Harvey is CFO of Goldman Sachs. And who is that?” he yelled at Betty. She approached the window, scrolling up and down the iPhone screen.
“Which one?” Betty asked, looking up.
That one… that girl, right there. She’s wearing…wearing…something much worse than fuck Trump. She’s wearing a Feel the Bern t-shirt. Goddamnit, she can’t wear that. For one, this is and will always be a Clinton family organization, or did I not make that clear with those $300,000 speeches, where she praised our rapacious behavior, and applauded our pristine record of screwing over those thick fingered clowns they call the American people.
“Plus, she just can’t wear that.” Lloyd added, standing up, walking laps around his mahogany desk once owned by Thomas Jefferson, rumored to be the one he banged Sally Hemmings on. But this was no time for a history lesson, or maybe it was. It sparked an idea. He would call the President as soon as he was alone.
“Is this another one of your famous gags sir?” Betty asked, taking her perfectly sculpted physique contrasted by Lloyd’s confused, ruffled face, which she included in the pic. It topped over her right shoulder.
“Perfect,” Betty said, inching closer to the mirror, puckering her lips, moving a strand of hair behind ear and placing it back to where it was seconds earlier.
“I just posted this on Facebook. Look,” she said energetically, turning the phone around for Lloyd to a beautiful woman, and fearful, withered up little man, with an erratic look and a baldhead.
“I’m going to call it little bitch, because you look like a little bitch. Don’t you think?” Betty’s face was sincerely invested in whether he might have a better title than little bitch.
“You can’t talk to me like that. I’m your boss. And you can’t have guns in here.” Lloyd’s mind was like a man in a straightjacket, movement was superfluous, but movement like hiccups can’t cure insanity.
Betty let out a stream of laughter, “You’ve done it again. This isn’t your best one, but it was pretty good. That true Lloyd Blankfein spirit, that wry sense of humor we’ve all come to love,” her high heels dug into the carpet before she turned out the office door.
Just as she left, a large redheaded man with bulging muscles entered the room.
“Sir, the employees are going nuts. They don’t know why the doors are on security lockdown,” said Tim, head of security.
“Tim,” Betty giggled, “Lloyd’s doing one of his famous practical jokes.”
“Ah....that Lloyd Blankfein sense of humor we’ve all come to love. Very good, quite the actor too, can I ask you a question: did you dab your forehead or can you sweat on command. I’ve been taking this acting class downtown…never mind, I better go unlock the doors,” Tim chuckled, taking the elevator down to the lobby.
Once the door closed, he called the President.
“How are you this morning?” President Hillary Rodham Clinton asked, swiveling back and forth in the chair behind the Oval Office desk.
“Mrs. President, what is going on? My employees are doing things you’re not going to believe. Asserting First Amendment and Second Amendment protections and god knows what else, maybe freely assembling outside and demanding other things, other rights.”
Clinton chuckled, while simultaneously thinking about launching a drone strike later that afternoon.
“Lloyd, you’re too late Jamie already bet you too it. Let me guess, you were going to pretend the constitution didn’t apply to private business and you were going to pretend to have amnesia. Jamie already called, ten minutes before you did. Hilarious…hey, I have to let you go, damn Elizabeth is here; you were right, she is a real pain in the ass. Never should have chosen her as VP."
| It was early. Far too early. Daylight savings time had come, and I had gone along with it and set my alarm an hour early. But in my haste, I had accidentally overdone it. And now I was up, crap crusting around my eyes while the alarm shrieked at me like a mechanical harpy. I slithered out from under the covers, put on a robe, and went downstairs.
The coffee maker burbled happily as I filled it with hot water, and the TV waited patiently for me to finish pouring. Setting the pot down, I obediently turned on CNN. But the sound of coffee filling it soon rapidly slid down my priority list. The newscaster was an older, plain faced blonde woman who was struggling to keep her composure. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I have an official degree here from the White House, as signed by President Jay Swizel, Lord of the Dark Carnival and Master of the mirthless masses. He demands that all women between the ages of 42 and eighteen send a picture of their face, their waist, and their breasts to his facebook account or to PresidentJayismyMaster.gov. He says he must choose a Harvest Festival bride, and his wife demands that he pick someone pretty."
Perhaps some coffee would be helpful. I went up and got some. When I cam back, the newscaster had brought in an expert of constitutional law and a Chaplain for the Church of America. The expert told her that the Master of the Silver Throne must have a bride for the Harvest Festival, or it will bring ill luck. "But must she really be a virgin? Surely such archaic standards of female worth are..." the newscaster asked. Suddenly, the Chaplain leapt up and smacked the newscaster. "Blasphemy! You feel a spinster is worthy of the Lord of the Dark Carnival?" The Chaplain drew a spatula from his belt and pounced on the newscaster. He began to strike her with it. The camera rapidly cut away to the weather report. The weatherman stammered something about it being a great day, before running off screen clutching his mouth.
I took a swallow coffee. It was almost lukewarm. Gulping it down, I turned off the TV. I went upstairs and started getting dressed for work. I was almost done when I heard a knock at my door. I walked downstairs, "Just a minute." When I got there, the door swung open to reveal woman with a face painted white, a purple triangle around her mouth, and red teardrops on her cheeks. She smiled at me. "Salutations to you sir. Tell me, is your reddit account username TaranTastic?" She smiled at me, but her eyes were cold.
"Yes?"
"Oh good. For a second I thought I had the wrong address." She smiled at me, then turned and strolled away. I watched her walk down my driveway, then shut the door. "Weirdo," I said as I finished tucking in my shirt. I was almost finished getting ready, now I just had to find my keys. I went back upstairs to look for them. However, as I was rooting through the pile of garbage that was synonymous with my room before I got around to my monthly cleaning session, I heard another knock. Probably the clown girl. I went downstairs and threw open the door. "Listen here," I paused, as there were two men in suits and matching makeup standing on my stoop. They had a large purple triangle around their mouths and red teardrops on their cheeks, and unlike the woman they were very large and imposing. "Mr. Thompson?" One of the asked.
"Yeah, that's me."
They looked at each other and nodded. The other one pulled out a piece of paper. "Is it true that you wrote frequented /r/gaming in the year 2013 to the year 2015?" I nodded. "Yes, but I unsubscribed to them a few months ago."
The two clown men nodded. "So," the second one began. "Is is true that you posted this on April 6th, 2015. 'I find that Heavy Rain is one of the underappreciated gems of the last console generation, and I feel that it is far better than what normally passes for game storytelling.'" I just looked at him. "I don't know, maybe? I don't remember everything I post." The first one smiled. "That sounds like a confession." His partner nodded. "I concur." He launched forward, punching me in the stomach. As I doubled over, the first one grabbed me by the hair and dragged me out of the open door and threw me into the grass. They pulled out rubber truncheons and beat me with them. Blows rained down on me. I curled up into a ball, trying to protect my kidneys. And then as quickly as it came, it was over. The clown men put away their truncheon and walked away. "Don't wear white on Monday again," one of them called over his shoulder. I watched them leave, then ran back inside. I called my boss. "Sir, I can't make it today. I've got the flu." Then as soon as he said he would have someone else finish the proposal draft, I hung up and sat down on the couch. I had a lot of news to catch up on. | |
[WP] As a prank, someone swaps the US constitution with a joke constitution full of absurd rules and laws. No one notices the swap, and those laws start getting enforced. | I got pepper sprayed in the face.
It was a peaceful protest. We were protesting against the murdering of majestic Elephants in the wild.
"It was a peaceful protest!" I heard my friend scream at the officer before getting his very own spray in the face.
The officer laughed.
"According to the First Amendment, only hateful, racist protests can take place. Any acts of peacefulness will be dealt with by being impaled with a sword."
So be it.
I grabbed the officers pepper spray and flung it across the wall, proceeding to grab his gun and shoot every cop I saw down.
The protesters saw my actions and followed my example, shooting cops in the knees, using pepper spray, grabbing things and attacking other non-protesters with it.
The cops stopped, looked at us, and walked away.
I paused.
"What the FUCK was that?!" I yelled.
All the protesters just shrugged and left to go back home.
I did also.
Only to find my house door open.
"WHAT NOW?!" I thought.
I was then tackled from behind by a police officer.
"According to the Second Amendment, having a gun in your house and not shooting any civilians with it for any more then one day is punishable by death by no internet usage for ONE YEAR."
"No," I said.
"No. no"
"No, no, no"
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" | It was early. Far too early. Daylight savings time had come, and I had gone along with it and set my alarm an hour early. But in my haste, I had accidentally overdone it. And now I was up, crap crusting around my eyes while the alarm shrieked at me like a mechanical harpy. I slithered out from under the covers, put on a robe, and went downstairs.
The coffee maker burbled happily as I filled it with hot water, and the TV waited patiently for me to finish pouring. Setting the pot down, I obediently turned on CNN. But the sound of coffee filling it soon rapidly slid down my priority list. The newscaster was an older, plain faced blonde woman who was struggling to keep her composure. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I have an official degree here from the White House, as signed by President Jay Swizel, Lord of the Dark Carnival and Master of the mirthless masses. He demands that all women between the ages of 42 and eighteen send a picture of their face, their waist, and their breasts to his facebook account or to PresidentJayismyMaster.gov. He says he must choose a Harvest Festival bride, and his wife demands that he pick someone pretty."
Perhaps some coffee would be helpful. I went up and got some. When I cam back, the newscaster had brought in an expert of constitutional law and a Chaplain for the Church of America. The expert told her that the Master of the Silver Throne must have a bride for the Harvest Festival, or it will bring ill luck. "But must she really be a virgin? Surely such archaic standards of female worth are..." the newscaster asked. Suddenly, the Chaplain leapt up and smacked the newscaster. "Blasphemy! You feel a spinster is worthy of the Lord of the Dark Carnival?" The Chaplain drew a spatula from his belt and pounced on the newscaster. He began to strike her with it. The camera rapidly cut away to the weather report. The weatherman stammered something about it being a great day, before running off screen clutching his mouth.
I took a swallow coffee. It was almost lukewarm. Gulping it down, I turned off the TV. I went upstairs and started getting dressed for work. I was almost done when I heard a knock at my door. I walked downstairs, "Just a minute." When I got there, the door swung open to reveal woman with a face painted white, a purple triangle around her mouth, and red teardrops on her cheeks. She smiled at me. "Salutations to you sir. Tell me, is your reddit account username TaranTastic?" She smiled at me, but her eyes were cold.
"Yes?"
"Oh good. For a second I thought I had the wrong address." She smiled at me, then turned and strolled away. I watched her walk down my driveway, then shut the door. "Weirdo," I said as I finished tucking in my shirt. I was almost finished getting ready, now I just had to find my keys. I went back upstairs to look for them. However, as I was rooting through the pile of garbage that was synonymous with my room before I got around to my monthly cleaning session, I heard another knock. Probably the clown girl. I went downstairs and threw open the door. "Listen here," I paused, as there were two men in suits and matching makeup standing on my stoop. They had a large purple triangle around their mouths and red teardrops on their cheeks, and unlike the woman they were very large and imposing. "Mr. Thompson?" One of the asked.
"Yeah, that's me."
They looked at each other and nodded. The other one pulled out a piece of paper. "Is it true that you wrote frequented /r/gaming in the year 2013 to the year 2015?" I nodded. "Yes, but I unsubscribed to them a few months ago."
The two clown men nodded. "So," the second one began. "Is is true that you posted this on April 6th, 2015. 'I find that Heavy Rain is one of the underappreciated gems of the last console generation, and I feel that it is far better than what normally passes for game storytelling.'" I just looked at him. "I don't know, maybe? I don't remember everything I post." The first one smiled. "That sounds like a confession." His partner nodded. "I concur." He launched forward, punching me in the stomach. As I doubled over, the first one grabbed me by the hair and dragged me out of the open door and threw me into the grass. They pulled out rubber truncheons and beat me with them. Blows rained down on me. I curled up into a ball, trying to protect my kidneys. And then as quickly as it came, it was over. The clown men put away their truncheon and walked away. "Don't wear white on Monday again," one of them called over his shoulder. I watched them leave, then ran back inside. I called my boss. "Sir, I can't make it today. I've got the flu." Then as soon as he said he would have someone else finish the proposal draft, I hung up and sat down on the couch. I had a lot of news to catch up on. | |
[WP] Thawed out in the year 3000 after being cryogenically frozen, you're told that you are the first "old one" to see the future and not ultimately commit suicide. They request you teach a history class. | James was overwhelmed with a feeling of cold. He never felt anything cooler in his life. And despite feeling like he had a good night's sleep he was tired. Not knowing where he was didn't help either. When he finally gathered himself he noticed he was locked into what looked like a tiny cell with a glass door.
*"Where am I? Hello!?"* he shouted without seeing anyone. He didn't get a response so he reached for the door and pushed. To his surprise it wasn't locked and he stepped outside in one swift motion. James swiftly scanned his surroundings and noticed two tall but thin men. The two bearded men didn't look frightening in their scientist coats but James was cautious nonetheless.
*"Welcome, James! How do you feel?"* one of the men asked him in a calm voice whilst both approached him slowly.
*"I.. I'm fine."* said James although he still felt a little dizzy, *"Where am I?"* he asked in a panicked tone.
*"You're still where you left off, in London, remember? But it's not 2016 anymore. Some years have passed"* the other man said with a smirk in his face, *"It's the year 3000. You volunteered to be cryogenically frozen. You might not remember it, temporary amnesia appears to be a common side-effect of prolonged cryostasis. It should pass soon."* he explained.
*"3000!? That's amazing"* James shouted, *"I do remember volunteering but I thought I'd freeze to death or the procedure would fail. I have to see the world. Oh my god the amazing things that happened? I have to explore the world. Where's the exit?"* James continued ecstatically.
*"I'm sorry but we cannot let you go at this moment. You will be able to explore in due time!"* one of the men explained, *"Let me give you a quick tour of the past 1000 years instead, it will be quicker anyway than figuring it out on your own! Besides, you could die of shock if you weren't introduced to the changes gradually."* he said while lacking a facial expression.
The two men proceed to give James a quick tour of the world. They explain how technology has rapidly become better and smarter. Many things had no meaning to James, or he simply didn't understand them, but he got the gist of it. He was especially amazed at how far space technology had come. Ever since his childhood he was interested in anything related to space. Hearing that one of his theories, to build space stations in orbit that build space ships, has come true sent a shiver down his spine.
After a rather long tour that didn't cover much in detail, the two men showed James his room where he had to sleep in. James was suspicious but complied and he slept well. The next two weeks were very routine. He'd be told more information about the past and he went to bed in his room. That stopped one day abruptly and the two men entered his room with a stern expression.
*"We need you"* the man said, *"to teach your history to our children!"* finished the other man.
*"Can't I learn more about your world first? I mean, you told me so much but I feel like I still don't know anything"* James expressed his worries.
*"No! We can't allow that. After all, you are"* the man said, *"the first to not commit suicide."* both finished the sentence in unison.
*"Suicide?"* James shrieked.
James didn't listen to what the men answered. They might not have answered at all. He was too deply focused on that last sentence. He thought about why people like him would commit suicide, the world seemed better than ever after all. When his thoughts turned worse than they ever had James ran. In an instant James was already out of the door and the two men struggled to get up after being pushed over. The men knew that James had to be stopped, had to be stopped before reaching the outside.
*"Don't go outside"* The men yelled simultaneously but out of sync.
James ran through the doors and found himself outside. The air was warm and fresh, but the sky looked dark red. As he looked for any place to run to James noticed something. Or rather, he noticed nothing. There were no streets, no buildings, no lights, nothing. Not a trace of human life. Before he could comprehend what happened, the two men caught him in their vehicle.
The men now explained what really happened.
*"In 2045, World War III started. It didn't last long, 4..5 years maybe. It was devastating but nothing humanity couldn't recover from."* the man started explaining,
*"Then, in 2206, there was World War IV. Now that one was a proper World War. EVERY COUNTRY was involved. But the technological setback from WWIII meant there were no weapons of mass annihilation, and the concept of MAD wasn't a thing either. 55 years of wars. The last World War was WWV. 2 years of war only. 2834 - 2836. That was where humanity went practically extinct, save for a few cryogenic labs like this one. We have been searching for a man and a woman to clone so we could save humanity. We found you, a perfect candidate in terms of DNA. But we need to find a woman to save mankind. Will you help us find one?"*
James was overwhelmed and unable to answer for a few minutes. When he finally came to, *"Yes! I will help you."
Thus began a long journey. Long, exhausting and uneventful. It took them around four months to find another cryogenic laboratory.
When they entered, they found a living female human, still frozen. Mankind was save, for now.
----
Kept you waiting huh? Hope you enjoyed this one!
| "Either the 'sleeper awakes' jokes or the 'are you cursed' quips" I said "but honestly, the ... Restrooms are the most annoying thing".
One student(seems there will always be one) asked for further detail.
"When you do something everyday, sometimes multiple times, it becomes a habit. I feel uncomfortable in the new...Restrooms"
The class made the usual joke about pooping on Their hands like monkeys and after the laughter died down I changed subjects.
"Are there things I miss? Sure; family, friends, computers, the free expression they allowed but... Knowing the price, knowing what they did to people, to society, I see why we cannot have them anymore. You need to understand that back then; we saw no downside, all of our seemed like it was leading to a better world. To see brief, fleeting moments of another person's true unfiltered inner self. Those were rare, precious moments; some good, some bad but always...Honest."
"Looking at you all here today, it's good to know so many of the things we worried about worked themselves out but also it's horrifying to realise that something that in my time was so...trivial cost the world so much."
I paused, considering my words carefully.
"If I could ask you all one question, I guess it would be: can you ever forgive humanity for what it did to the world you inherited?"
Though the clicking, baking and hooting laughter, a few students said "of course, there was no way apes could have known"...
| |
[WP] Thawed out in the year 3000 after being cryogenically frozen, you're told that you are the first "old one" to see the future and not ultimately commit suicide. They request you teach a history class. | I sat rubbing my temples, elbows propped on top of my desk. Glancing at the clock on the wall, I let out groan. "Okay class," I stand and move to the front center of the room. "Let's get started. Everyone pull out your homeowner and pass it forward."
The next couple minutes were filled with the rustling of paper and the plaintive wail of excuses for unfinished homework. I listed to each little tail of unlike adventure and happenstance that had befallen each individual assignment. If this were an English class I might have given some point to the perpetual malingerers for talented story telling at the very least. Alas, this was history, and like the stock market after the housing bubble, their grades were on the steep decline.
It had been six months since I first took up my position at Imperial High. I had never seen myself becoming a history teacher, nor any other sort of teach besides perhaps theater, but my options these days were limited.
I had been working third shift janitorial at MIT when the accident happened. Though I was there, I knew little of the details until they were related to e after. All I knew at the time was that some snot-nosed wannabe scientists had told me there was a spill in one of the labs and I was needed to clean it up. His face was known to me, but not his name. To me he was simply "asshole", a rare exception to the normal mannerly and humble albeit brilliant majority of the student body. But it was my job to clean spills, so clean the spill I intended to do.
I was mopping up a large spill of water, wondering why the little fucker couldn't have just taken care of this with some paper towels, when I felt a shove from behind. I landed hard inside what seemed like a metal coffin. Before I could turn around, I felt my whole body go chill, and then darkness.
I awoke what seemed like seconds later, freezing to my core in a manner I had never before felt in all my years living in New England winters. It was a few moments before I realized the room was lit and configured differently from what it had looked like just seconds ago. And a few moments more before I noticed people were speaking to me.
One thousand years, or near enough to make no difference. According to the records, the told me, asshole had meant to simply prank me and thought I'd be unfrozen the morning following. what he hadn't known was that cryogenic tube had an atomic lock that couldn't be overridden. And the moron in his fumbling had set it for what he thought an arbitrary time. The records didn't say what had become of asshole, but it probably wasn't enough.
And so there I was. The first person to jump forward one thousand years into the future unwillingly. My janitorial work had been outsourced to robots. My expertise in technical theater was centuries out of date. I hadn't even finished getting my degree, but even if I had it would only count for a few credits at best. Even "English" as it was now spoken was nearly incomprehensible to me. And so I spent the first couple months catching up with the new dialect.
When my lessons were nearing completion, I was asked what I'd like to do in this new world. "Fucked if I know." I had to translate the sentiment.
A week later, a proposal was brought before me. I was offered the position of early-modern history teacher at the high school dedicated to the royal families of the Terran Star Empire. The pay was beyond belief, the housing more than I'd ever have managed in my old life, and what the hell, teenagers were usually funny.
I should have known better though. Most of the kids were alright. But there was always one...
*"Mr. Blackensail? I have a question about a thousand years ago."*
"Go ahead. But so help me Timmy, if this question is-"
*"What was it like having to ride horses everywhere? Was it better once you figured out soap and could wash the horse smell off every couple weeks?"*
There's always one. I turn to face the student in question. Timmy. He is a spitting image for asshole. "Timmy, do you know what "The rack" is? Because the next time you as me a fucking question like that..." | "Either the 'sleeper awakes' jokes or the 'are you cursed' quips" I said "but honestly, the ... Restrooms are the most annoying thing".
One student(seems there will always be one) asked for further detail.
"When you do something everyday, sometimes multiple times, it becomes a habit. I feel uncomfortable in the new...Restrooms"
The class made the usual joke about pooping on Their hands like monkeys and after the laughter died down I changed subjects.
"Are there things I miss? Sure; family, friends, computers, the free expression they allowed but... Knowing the price, knowing what they did to people, to society, I see why we cannot have them anymore. You need to understand that back then; we saw no downside, all of our seemed like it was leading to a better world. To see brief, fleeting moments of another person's true unfiltered inner self. Those were rare, precious moments; some good, some bad but always...Honest."
"Looking at you all here today, it's good to know so many of the things we worried about worked themselves out but also it's horrifying to realise that something that in my time was so...trivial cost the world so much."
I paused, considering my words carefully.
"If I could ask you all one question, I guess it would be: can you ever forgive humanity for what it did to the world you inherited?"
Though the clicking, baking and hooting laughter, a few students said "of course, there was no way apes could have known"...
| |
[WP] Thawed out in the year 3000 after being cryogenically frozen, you're told that you are the first "old one" to see the future and not ultimately commit suicide. They request you teach a history class. | I slowly pace in the quite room contemplating the choices ahead of me. My body stiffness limits my movements greatly. Assured that it takes a few more hours for the joints to ease up, I was ushered into the common room to have a few hours to myself. A quick history lesson was given to me of the past few centuries, but my only question would not be answered.
The room contains a bed across from the door, nightstand on the left of the bed hosts the only light source. Golden flame shining from the lamp dances shadows across the room. There is quilted blanket folded neatly on the head of the bed. I walk over and inspect the pattern. The base color is a meek gray, but dashes of red and oranges sprinkle across the blanket.
Letting a tired one thousand years of sleep sigh out, I sit down on the bed. I was incredibly groggy after the "waking". Blurred faces bobbing in and out of view. Carried into a bright illuminated white room, I was laid, face up on a bed physically checked. Steady stream of faces not breaking.
I look down and inspect the back of my bandaged hand. A small red spot the only remain of where a needle had struck. I've been in this small darkly lit room for the last hour and half. I vaguely remember the training I had to take before going under. The harsh 1 year training the we all had to go under, constant mental, physical, and psychological abuse we had to go through to ensure no matter what happens we stay true. True to the cause. A knock on the door disrupts my thoughts. I slowly strain to stand.
A grey haired, pale faced man enters. Age has taken a toll on his features. Wrinkles, dark bags, back slightly arched with walking stick in hand, I would place him in his early seventies.
"May I enter?" A smile breaks out across his face. I realize I've been staring. Nodding, he slowly hobbles into the room. The light gives me a better look at his clothing. A gray long sleeve cotton shirt, black pants, and grey sandals. No visible markings. "How was your sleep, Sleeper?"
"Fine", I croak. Voice still a bit raspy.
"Good, good. You have not taken the 'pill' yet. Should I take that as you have come to an answer?" His response came out calm and kind, reminiscent of my father. Eyes a sad blue.
"Am I the last?"
The old man breaks eye contact, averting his gaze towards the ground. Cold sadness replacing the warmth of his voice. "Yes". I close my eyes, holding back the tears. My worst fear confirmed. Whirlwind of question fills my head. A long silence falls over the small room.
I remember the promise that was made. A slight side affect of the sleep may occur. The confusion that might overwhelm some. Causing delirium and hallucinations. Manic behavior. But quickly as if clock work, the promise that this was a small insignificant chance to us. One that may affect 1 in 1000 at worse. A negligible fear. A clear lie. I take deep breaths. Jake. Mia. Sarah. Gordon. Marcus. Jose. Daniel. Singh. Robert. Tears fall off my chin.
Minutes pass. I wipe the tears with my sleeves and look over to the man. Kindness had left his face. His sad eyes now match his facial expression. My endless question need answers, but the pill was not it. I clear my throat, "I'll teach the class."
| "Either the 'sleeper awakes' jokes or the 'are you cursed' quips" I said "but honestly, the ... Restrooms are the most annoying thing".
One student(seems there will always be one) asked for further detail.
"When you do something everyday, sometimes multiple times, it becomes a habit. I feel uncomfortable in the new...Restrooms"
The class made the usual joke about pooping on Their hands like monkeys and after the laughter died down I changed subjects.
"Are there things I miss? Sure; family, friends, computers, the free expression they allowed but... Knowing the price, knowing what they did to people, to society, I see why we cannot have them anymore. You need to understand that back then; we saw no downside, all of our seemed like it was leading to a better world. To see brief, fleeting moments of another person's true unfiltered inner self. Those were rare, precious moments; some good, some bad but always...Honest."
"Looking at you all here today, it's good to know so many of the things we worried about worked themselves out but also it's horrifying to realise that something that in my time was so...trivial cost the world so much."
I paused, considering my words carefully.
"If I could ask you all one question, I guess it would be: can you ever forgive humanity for what it did to the world you inherited?"
Though the clicking, baking and hooting laughter, a few students said "of course, there was no way apes could have known"...
| |
[WP] Thawed out in the year 3000 after being cryogenically frozen, you're told that you are the first "old one" to see the future and not ultimately commit suicide. They request you teach a history class. | I sat rubbing my temples, elbows propped on top of my desk. Glancing at the clock on the wall, I let out groan. "Okay class," I stand and move to the front center of the room. "Let's get started. Everyone pull out your homeowner and pass it forward."
The next couple minutes were filled with the rustling of paper and the plaintive wail of excuses for unfinished homework. I listed to each little tail of unlike adventure and happenstance that had befallen each individual assignment. If this were an English class I might have given some point to the perpetual malingerers for talented story telling at the very least. Alas, this was history, and like the stock market after the housing bubble, their grades were on the steep decline.
It had been six months since I first took up my position at Imperial High. I had never seen myself becoming a history teacher, nor any other sort of teach besides perhaps theater, but my options these days were limited.
I had been working third shift janitorial at MIT when the accident happened. Though I was there, I knew little of the details until they were related to e after. All I knew at the time was that some snot-nosed wannabe scientists had told me there was a spill in one of the labs and I was needed to clean it up. His face was known to me, but not his name. To me he was simply "asshole", a rare exception to the normal mannerly and humble albeit brilliant majority of the student body. But it was my job to clean spills, so clean the spill I intended to do.
I was mopping up a large spill of water, wondering why the little fucker couldn't have just taken care of this with some paper towels, when I felt a shove from behind. I landed hard inside what seemed like a metal coffin. Before I could turn around, I felt my whole body go chill, and then darkness.
I awoke what seemed like seconds later, freezing to my core in a manner I had never before felt in all my years living in New England winters. It was a few moments before I realized the room was lit and configured differently from what it had looked like just seconds ago. And a few moments more before I noticed people were speaking to me.
One thousand years, or near enough to make no difference. According to the records, the told me, asshole had meant to simply prank me and thought I'd be unfrozen the morning following. what he hadn't known was that cryogenic tube had an atomic lock that couldn't be overridden. And the moron in his fumbling had set it for what he thought an arbitrary time. The records didn't say what had become of asshole, but it probably wasn't enough.
And so there I was. The first person to jump forward one thousand years into the future unwillingly. My janitorial work had been outsourced to robots. My expertise in technical theater was centuries out of date. I hadn't even finished getting my degree, but even if I had it would only count for a few credits at best. Even "English" as it was now spoken was nearly incomprehensible to me. And so I spent the first couple months catching up with the new dialect.
When my lessons were nearing completion, I was asked what I'd like to do in this new world. "Fucked if I know." I had to translate the sentiment.
A week later, a proposal was brought before me. I was offered the position of early-modern history teacher at the high school dedicated to the royal families of the Terran Star Empire. The pay was beyond belief, the housing more than I'd ever have managed in my old life, and what the hell, teenagers were usually funny.
I should have known better though. Most of the kids were alright. But there was always one...
*"Mr. Blackensail? I have a question about a thousand years ago."*
"Go ahead. But so help me Timmy, if this question is-"
*"What was it like having to ride horses everywhere? Was it better once you figured out soap and could wash the horse smell off every couple weeks?"*
There's always one. I turn to face the student in question. Timmy. He is a spitting image for asshole. "Timmy, do you know what "The rack" is? Because the next time you as me a fucking question like that..." | James was overwhelmed with a feeling of cold. He never felt anything cooler in his life. And despite feeling like he had a good night's sleep he was tired. Not knowing where he was didn't help either. When he finally gathered himself he noticed he was locked into what looked like a tiny cell with a glass door.
*"Where am I? Hello!?"* he shouted without seeing anyone. He didn't get a response so he reached for the door and pushed. To his surprise it wasn't locked and he stepped outside in one swift motion. James swiftly scanned his surroundings and noticed two tall but thin men. The two bearded men didn't look frightening in their scientist coats but James was cautious nonetheless.
*"Welcome, James! How do you feel?"* one of the men asked him in a calm voice whilst both approached him slowly.
*"I.. I'm fine."* said James although he still felt a little dizzy, *"Where am I?"* he asked in a panicked tone.
*"You're still where you left off, in London, remember? But it's not 2016 anymore. Some years have passed"* the other man said with a smirk in his face, *"It's the year 3000. You volunteered to be cryogenically frozen. You might not remember it, temporary amnesia appears to be a common side-effect of prolonged cryostasis. It should pass soon."* he explained.
*"3000!? That's amazing"* James shouted, *"I do remember volunteering but I thought I'd freeze to death or the procedure would fail. I have to see the world. Oh my god the amazing things that happened? I have to explore the world. Where's the exit?"* James continued ecstatically.
*"I'm sorry but we cannot let you go at this moment. You will be able to explore in due time!"* one of the men explained, *"Let me give you a quick tour of the past 1000 years instead, it will be quicker anyway than figuring it out on your own! Besides, you could die of shock if you weren't introduced to the changes gradually."* he said while lacking a facial expression.
The two men proceed to give James a quick tour of the world. They explain how technology has rapidly become better and smarter. Many things had no meaning to James, or he simply didn't understand them, but he got the gist of it. He was especially amazed at how far space technology had come. Ever since his childhood he was interested in anything related to space. Hearing that one of his theories, to build space stations in orbit that build space ships, has come true sent a shiver down his spine.
After a rather long tour that didn't cover much in detail, the two men showed James his room where he had to sleep in. James was suspicious but complied and he slept well. The next two weeks were very routine. He'd be told more information about the past and he went to bed in his room. That stopped one day abruptly and the two men entered his room with a stern expression.
*"We need you"* the man said, *"to teach your history to our children!"* finished the other man.
*"Can't I learn more about your world first? I mean, you told me so much but I feel like I still don't know anything"* James expressed his worries.
*"No! We can't allow that. After all, you are"* the man said, *"the first to not commit suicide."* both finished the sentence in unison.
*"Suicide?"* James shrieked.
James didn't listen to what the men answered. They might not have answered at all. He was too deply focused on that last sentence. He thought about why people like him would commit suicide, the world seemed better than ever after all. When his thoughts turned worse than they ever had James ran. In an instant James was already out of the door and the two men struggled to get up after being pushed over. The men knew that James had to be stopped, had to be stopped before reaching the outside.
*"Don't go outside"* The men yelled simultaneously but out of sync.
James ran through the doors and found himself outside. The air was warm and fresh, but the sky looked dark red. As he looked for any place to run to James noticed something. Or rather, he noticed nothing. There were no streets, no buildings, no lights, nothing. Not a trace of human life. Before he could comprehend what happened, the two men caught him in their vehicle.
The men now explained what really happened.
*"In 2045, World War III started. It didn't last long, 4..5 years maybe. It was devastating but nothing humanity couldn't recover from."* the man started explaining,
*"Then, in 2206, there was World War IV. Now that one was a proper World War. EVERY COUNTRY was involved. But the technological setback from WWIII meant there were no weapons of mass annihilation, and the concept of MAD wasn't a thing either. 55 years of wars. The last World War was WWV. 2 years of war only. 2834 - 2836. That was where humanity went practically extinct, save for a few cryogenic labs like this one. We have been searching for a man and a woman to clone so we could save humanity. We found you, a perfect candidate in terms of DNA. But we need to find a woman to save mankind. Will you help us find one?"*
James was overwhelmed and unable to answer for a few minutes. When he finally came to, *"Yes! I will help you."
Thus began a long journey. Long, exhausting and uneventful. It took them around four months to find another cryogenic laboratory.
When they entered, they found a living female human, still frozen. Mankind was save, for now.
----
Kept you waiting huh? Hope you enjoyed this one!
| |
[WP] Thawed out in the year 3000 after being cryogenically frozen, you're told that you are the first "old one" to see the future and not ultimately commit suicide. They request you teach a history class. | I slowly pace in the quite room contemplating the choices ahead of me. My body stiffness limits my movements greatly. Assured that it takes a few more hours for the joints to ease up, I was ushered into the common room to have a few hours to myself. A quick history lesson was given to me of the past few centuries, but my only question would not be answered.
The room contains a bed across from the door, nightstand on the left of the bed hosts the only light source. Golden flame shining from the lamp dances shadows across the room. There is quilted blanket folded neatly on the head of the bed. I walk over and inspect the pattern. The base color is a meek gray, but dashes of red and oranges sprinkle across the blanket.
Letting a tired one thousand years of sleep sigh out, I sit down on the bed. I was incredibly groggy after the "waking". Blurred faces bobbing in and out of view. Carried into a bright illuminated white room, I was laid, face up on a bed physically checked. Steady stream of faces not breaking.
I look down and inspect the back of my bandaged hand. A small red spot the only remain of where a needle had struck. I've been in this small darkly lit room for the last hour and half. I vaguely remember the training I had to take before going under. The harsh 1 year training the we all had to go under, constant mental, physical, and psychological abuse we had to go through to ensure no matter what happens we stay true. True to the cause. A knock on the door disrupts my thoughts. I slowly strain to stand.
A grey haired, pale faced man enters. Age has taken a toll on his features. Wrinkles, dark bags, back slightly arched with walking stick in hand, I would place him in his early seventies.
"May I enter?" A smile breaks out across his face. I realize I've been staring. Nodding, he slowly hobbles into the room. The light gives me a better look at his clothing. A gray long sleeve cotton shirt, black pants, and grey sandals. No visible markings. "How was your sleep, Sleeper?"
"Fine", I croak. Voice still a bit raspy.
"Good, good. You have not taken the 'pill' yet. Should I take that as you have come to an answer?" His response came out calm and kind, reminiscent of my father. Eyes a sad blue.
"Am I the last?"
The old man breaks eye contact, averting his gaze towards the ground. Cold sadness replacing the warmth of his voice. "Yes". I close my eyes, holding back the tears. My worst fear confirmed. Whirlwind of question fills my head. A long silence falls over the small room.
I remember the promise that was made. A slight side affect of the sleep may occur. The confusion that might overwhelm some. Causing delirium and hallucinations. Manic behavior. But quickly as if clock work, the promise that this was a small insignificant chance to us. One that may affect 1 in 1000 at worse. A negligible fear. A clear lie. I take deep breaths. Jake. Mia. Sarah. Gordon. Marcus. Jose. Daniel. Singh. Robert. Tears fall off my chin.
Minutes pass. I wipe the tears with my sleeves and look over to the man. Kindness had left his face. His sad eyes now match his facial expression. My endless question need answers, but the pill was not it. I clear my throat, "I'll teach the class."
| After I emerged from the freezer, two of the engineers in charge of greeting the old ones tried to scare me, they did a good job at it too. I proceeded to look out the window and see how much my city had changed. After my psychological evaluation, I walked into the job assignment room. The purple-haired-combat boot-wearing Cyclops lady introduced herself to me.
"Hello," she said "It's Phillip right?"
"Ummm" I stumbled over my words, "Y- yeah."
"Alright Phillip" she said as she glanced over her notes, "Because you are the only one who has come out of the freezer and hasn't tried to kill themselves we think you are ready for a job. We want you to teach a history course at the local high school."
"Honestly," I said as I found the courage to talk "I think I would rather be a delivery boy, like I was back in my time." I had seen an advertisement about an interplanetary delivery company out the window. She said "Alright but I think your experience could be more useful as a teacher."
My mind was already made up, I was going to be the best interplanetary delivery boy out there, or my name isn't Phillip J. Fry. | |
[WP] Thawed out in the year 3000 after being cryogenically frozen, you're told that you are the first "old one" to see the future and not ultimately commit suicide. They request you teach a history class. | I walked around my desk once more, just to be safe. The three holographic 'monitors' laid out side-by-side on the floating metal alloy bench had various different pages of Wikipedia up, as well as the obligatory Facebook plug-in which I still haven't figured out how to shut off just yet.
They promised me that no one can see what I'm looking at from the other side; which was true. The holographic images became entirely transparent when looking at them from the wrong angle, but I still had to check. Hard to trust technology you don't understand. It was then that I had a small reminder pop up in the top right of my vision which became clear when I focused on it. A friendly reminder from my new implant that class was about to start soon. For a brief moment I forgot how to turn it off, trying various combinations of eye-maneuvers to tell it to shut the hell up.
Both eyes closed.
One eye closed.
One eye looking up with the other closed. Ah, that did it.
I was starting to realise why those who got frozen ended up going a bit... loopy. There's a bit of a sensory overload going on.
Alright then. Lets get this over with. There's no bell to signal the start of the class in this... school? I suppose? Not with everyone having their own implants which keep a track of what's going on. It only took a flick of my wrist to unlock the door to the classroom (which I'll admit, is ridiculously cool) and then they started coming in. Talking to each other while looking straight ahead, small flicks and motions of their right hand as they all quickly sorted themselves into a seating arrangement. Looking out across the classroom it was a bit strange to see such a mix of ages. Ranging from what looked to be 14 up to the the middle aged (who I've been told could be as old as 90, as people are aging much more gracefully in this millennia). School's certainly changed, a quick run-down told me that the majority of learning and subjects are simply there for those who are interested. A universal income was granted to everyone, and most ended up taking up academia to pass the time.
Anyway, best not let myself get carried away in thought. People already seem to act as if I'm rather slow, being a 'primitive' from the year 2016.
"Alright then. Well, welcome to 'An Introduction to the 21st Century". I'm David, nice to meet you all." That was met with a few murmurs, mostly people staring at me as if I was exotic. I suppose I am, in a way.
A few small red blips appeared before me, all hovering over various students heads. My HUD telling me they wanted to ask me questions, I suppose. Pointing to one, a young woman who looked to be about 15, I nodded. The red blip above her head expanded, then disappeared.
"Are you *really* from the year 2016?"
"Ah, yes. Yes I am."
"Really?" Well, teenagers never really seem to change I suppose.
"Yes, really." I pointed to another. "Yes, the young man in the back?" Wait, shouldn't have said anything. He'd have known I signaled to him, now I look like an idiot. Shit.
"What's it like, coming from the past? What's shocked you the most?"
In response, I tapped my temple right where the implant rested. That caused it to ask me if I wanted to shut it down. I did not.
"Everything is connected, it's slightly overwhelming. When I was frozen, we had just started to work with the 'always online' mentality, having smartphones and laptops which were always within range of Wi-Fi, or a phone network. This is just a whole new level of that, I guess."
"What's... Wi-Fi?" Oh boy.
"Oh, right. Uhm, Wi-Fi is what we called wireless information that transmitted between computers. For the internet, things like that."
Unfortunately, that just encouraged a whole new range of blank stares.
"It's... It's what Facebook ran on, back then." I continued, hoping to see some understanding faces. Thankfully, a few nodded. "Yes, next question?" I gave the heads-up to a middle aged man wearing some extremely outlandish glasses. Hopefully he'd ask me something... easier.
"What's a meme?"
Oh boy. | After I emerged from the freezer, two of the engineers in charge of greeting the old ones tried to scare me, they did a good job at it too. I proceeded to look out the window and see how much my city had changed. After my psychological evaluation, I walked into the job assignment room. The purple-haired-combat boot-wearing Cyclops lady introduced herself to me.
"Hello," she said "It's Phillip right?"
"Ummm" I stumbled over my words, "Y- yeah."
"Alright Phillip" she said as she glanced over her notes, "Because you are the only one who has come out of the freezer and hasn't tried to kill themselves we think you are ready for a job. We want you to teach a history course at the local high school."
"Honestly," I said as I found the courage to talk "I think I would rather be a delivery boy, like I was back in my time." I had seen an advertisement about an interplanetary delivery company out the window. She said "Alright but I think your experience could be more useful as a teacher."
My mind was already made up, I was going to be the best interplanetary delivery boy out there, or my name isn't Phillip J. Fry. | |
[WP] Thawed out in the year 3000 after being cryogenically frozen, you're told that you are the first "old one" to see the future and not ultimately commit suicide. They request you teach a history class. | I walked around my desk once more, just to be safe. The three holographic 'monitors' laid out side-by-side on the floating metal alloy bench had various different pages of Wikipedia up, as well as the obligatory Facebook plug-in which I still haven't figured out how to shut off just yet.
They promised me that no one can see what I'm looking at from the other side; which was true. The holographic images became entirely transparent when looking at them from the wrong angle, but I still had to check. Hard to trust technology you don't understand. It was then that I had a small reminder pop up in the top right of my vision which became clear when I focused on it. A friendly reminder from my new implant that class was about to start soon. For a brief moment I forgot how to turn it off, trying various combinations of eye-maneuvers to tell it to shut the hell up.
Both eyes closed.
One eye closed.
One eye looking up with the other closed. Ah, that did it.
I was starting to realise why those who got frozen ended up going a bit... loopy. There's a bit of a sensory overload going on.
Alright then. Lets get this over with. There's no bell to signal the start of the class in this... school? I suppose? Not with everyone having their own implants which keep a track of what's going on. It only took a flick of my wrist to unlock the door to the classroom (which I'll admit, is ridiculously cool) and then they started coming in. Talking to each other while looking straight ahead, small flicks and motions of their right hand as they all quickly sorted themselves into a seating arrangement. Looking out across the classroom it was a bit strange to see such a mix of ages. Ranging from what looked to be 14 up to the the middle aged (who I've been told could be as old as 90, as people are aging much more gracefully in this millennia). School's certainly changed, a quick run-down told me that the majority of learning and subjects are simply there for those who are interested. A universal income was granted to everyone, and most ended up taking up academia to pass the time.
Anyway, best not let myself get carried away in thought. People already seem to act as if I'm rather slow, being a 'primitive' from the year 2016.
"Alright then. Well, welcome to 'An Introduction to the 21st Century". I'm David, nice to meet you all." That was met with a few murmurs, mostly people staring at me as if I was exotic. I suppose I am, in a way.
A few small red blips appeared before me, all hovering over various students heads. My HUD telling me they wanted to ask me questions, I suppose. Pointing to one, a young woman who looked to be about 15, I nodded. The red blip above her head expanded, then disappeared.
"Are you *really* from the year 2016?"
"Ah, yes. Yes I am."
"Really?" Well, teenagers never really seem to change I suppose.
"Yes, really." I pointed to another. "Yes, the young man in the back?" Wait, shouldn't have said anything. He'd have known I signaled to him, now I look like an idiot. Shit.
"What's it like, coming from the past? What's shocked you the most?"
In response, I tapped my temple right where the implant rested. That caused it to ask me if I wanted to shut it down. I did not.
"Everything is connected, it's slightly overwhelming. When I was frozen, we had just started to work with the 'always online' mentality, having smartphones and laptops which were always within range of Wi-Fi, or a phone network. This is just a whole new level of that, I guess."
"What's... Wi-Fi?" Oh boy.
"Oh, right. Uhm, Wi-Fi is what we called wireless information that transmitted between computers. For the internet, things like that."
Unfortunately, that just encouraged a whole new range of blank stares.
"It's... It's what Facebook ran on, back then." I continued, hoping to see some understanding faces. Thankfully, a few nodded. "Yes, next question?" I gave the heads-up to a middle aged man wearing some extremely outlandish glasses. Hopefully he'd ask me something... easier.
"What's a meme?"
Oh boy. |
My head hurt.
The implant they had put in made everything I thought seem to go through a haze. The year was 5018 and the realities of the future were beginning to dawn on me. The forced peace amongst the mases, implanted with all sorts of biotechnology and “upgrades.” Humanity had evolved into long-limbed strange things, almost completely devoid of muscle and stamina due to the overworking of the machines.
It was all too weird.
I reached into the non-existent pocket of my single piece suit that was perfectly clean and maintained me entirely too comfortable. But it chaffed like a motherfucker. The collar was tight against my neck like a noose.
I looked at the so-called woman that guided me to the classroom. Her lanky frame devoid of the curves necessary to allure the men of the 20th century. More pre-determined asexual stature than anything else. Her movements were graceful, sure, but she moved in a lithe way. Like a well-fed tiger in the zoo.
“So, anything you can tell me about this class?” I asked her, beads of sweat beginning to form as I attempted to keep pace with her long, ground-eating steps.
“They are eager.”
“Eager?” I stopped in my tracks. “Eager for what?”
“You. For what you represent and what you can provide.” The humanoid creature spoke. Her tone hauntingly smooth. Almost serene with little fluxuations that would barely be noticeable for anyone else.
“Well, that’s ominous.” I chuckled as I followed her through the double doors.
A chair sat by itself in the middle of the room. Around it stood several of the tall humanoid creatures all looking the same. When asked, the woman said that most had not yet chosen their gender. The thought in itself was alarming but I tried best I could to hide the surprise from my face. It was all incredibly odd.
“Adepts. This is your lecturer for today, Mr Norman.” Dozens of blank stares fixated upon him as the woman left the room. Making an awkward greeting I sat down slowly.
“So, I was a biology teacher in the twentieth century. Probably something you might have already known.” Shrugging I continued. “What are you studying? Anyone?”
Quiet filled the room until a manuscript appeared in front of my eyes. Half faded but easy enough to read. *this is going to take some getting used to for sure.*
“Alright. It seems like you’re into human evolution and anatomy? Great. Well, the evolutionar-“ My words were shut off as I sat down in the chair. No sound emanating from my open lips as the whole of it grew quiet. The chair stretched itself backwards into a table and the students approached, ever slowly, almost menacingly.
They watched me with curious eyes and I lay motionless on the table, until one of the reached forward with something I could did not know and I felt a burn deep in the tissue of my arm.
‘aGassraas” Sounds emanated from my mouth, none of them intelligible. Panicking and unable to move fully aware that today’s lesson was hands-on.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
Check out some of my other stuff. /r/abdantaswrites
| |
[WP] Thawed out in the year 3000 after being cryogenically frozen, you're told that you are the first "old one" to see the future and not ultimately commit suicide. They request you teach a history class. | I walked around my desk once more, just to be safe. The three holographic 'monitors' laid out side-by-side on the floating metal alloy bench had various different pages of Wikipedia up, as well as the obligatory Facebook plug-in which I still haven't figured out how to shut off just yet.
They promised me that no one can see what I'm looking at from the other side; which was true. The holographic images became entirely transparent when looking at them from the wrong angle, but I still had to check. Hard to trust technology you don't understand. It was then that I had a small reminder pop up in the top right of my vision which became clear when I focused on it. A friendly reminder from my new implant that class was about to start soon. For a brief moment I forgot how to turn it off, trying various combinations of eye-maneuvers to tell it to shut the hell up.
Both eyes closed.
One eye closed.
One eye looking up with the other closed. Ah, that did it.
I was starting to realise why those who got frozen ended up going a bit... loopy. There's a bit of a sensory overload going on.
Alright then. Lets get this over with. There's no bell to signal the start of the class in this... school? I suppose? Not with everyone having their own implants which keep a track of what's going on. It only took a flick of my wrist to unlock the door to the classroom (which I'll admit, is ridiculously cool) and then they started coming in. Talking to each other while looking straight ahead, small flicks and motions of their right hand as they all quickly sorted themselves into a seating arrangement. Looking out across the classroom it was a bit strange to see such a mix of ages. Ranging from what looked to be 14 up to the the middle aged (who I've been told could be as old as 90, as people are aging much more gracefully in this millennia). School's certainly changed, a quick run-down told me that the majority of learning and subjects are simply there for those who are interested. A universal income was granted to everyone, and most ended up taking up academia to pass the time.
Anyway, best not let myself get carried away in thought. People already seem to act as if I'm rather slow, being a 'primitive' from the year 2016.
"Alright then. Well, welcome to 'An Introduction to the 21st Century". I'm David, nice to meet you all." That was met with a few murmurs, mostly people staring at me as if I was exotic. I suppose I am, in a way.
A few small red blips appeared before me, all hovering over various students heads. My HUD telling me they wanted to ask me questions, I suppose. Pointing to one, a young woman who looked to be about 15, I nodded. The red blip above her head expanded, then disappeared.
"Are you *really* from the year 2016?"
"Ah, yes. Yes I am."
"Really?" Well, teenagers never really seem to change I suppose.
"Yes, really." I pointed to another. "Yes, the young man in the back?" Wait, shouldn't have said anything. He'd have known I signaled to him, now I look like an idiot. Shit.
"What's it like, coming from the past? What's shocked you the most?"
In response, I tapped my temple right where the implant rested. That caused it to ask me if I wanted to shut it down. I did not.
"Everything is connected, it's slightly overwhelming. When I was frozen, we had just started to work with the 'always online' mentality, having smartphones and laptops which were always within range of Wi-Fi, or a phone network. This is just a whole new level of that, I guess."
"What's... Wi-Fi?" Oh boy.
"Oh, right. Uhm, Wi-Fi is what we called wireless information that transmitted between computers. For the internet, things like that."
Unfortunately, that just encouraged a whole new range of blank stares.
"It's... It's what Facebook ran on, back then." I continued, hoping to see some understanding faces. Thankfully, a few nodded. "Yes, next question?" I gave the heads-up to a middle aged man wearing some extremely outlandish glasses. Hopefully he'd ask me something... easier.
"What's a meme?"
Oh boy. | They said to me, "you WANT to live?"
And looked me in the eye,
"It's just you are the very first
That didn't want to die!"
I said "this world does fascinate
And thus it makes me fond:
Who wouldn't want to emigrate
A thousand years beyond?"
They followed up by asking me
About the olden days;
I answered with alacrity
In quite bewitching ways!
They said "you really have to give
Some lectures on the past
Where many years ago you lived,
But sadly didn't last."
I said "I will" and didn't wish
To lie throughout the course,
But happily my gibberish
Did garner great applause!
For I did err, admittedly,
When I was meant to thaw
The man who fell out rigidly
And shattered on the floor.
I swept him up and filled the bin
At quite a pretty pace,
And tied the bag upon a shin
And fragment of his face.
The scientists had been dispatched
To check upon their man,
So quickly did I dare to hatch
A fiendish little plan.
I stepped in to the chilly pod
And donned the dead man's tie,
And hoped to God the scientists
Believed I was the guy.
They did and more, and once I lied
About my epic trip,
The rubbish bag I took outside
And tossed it in a skip.
| |
[wp] You stumble upon a genie in a bottle, instead of granting three wishes he gives you three choices. End world hunger, stop all current and future wars or find out what's in the box. | 5 Years have gone by and I've always wondered whether or not I should have ended war. Wars seem to be quick advancers of technology, medical breakthroughs, transport tech, computing you name it. We still kill and fight for territory, for power for fun. But at least we can eat.
I ended world hunger. Not that we don't still have the need to eat it's just that there is now food available to all who need it. You can starve your damn self but I've gotten you the ability to eat. Anorexics still exist and people can still balloon up to hundreds of pounds but we can all eat.
The box was never a choice. It's always the choice of the curious and the foolhardy and not a day goes by that I wonder what the trap was. In every city and every village now there's a table that has food for the taking . Some tried to control the tables but people quickly learned that as long as 100 people lived in an area, the tables would appear.
The food isn't delicious. It's a spread of some sort of bread and a pitcher of water. You have to come to the table to eat. This has made for some strange occurrences. The transportation of food is now only for variety not necessity. Some people live entirely off the tables. I myself prefer Doritos.
We can now wage war more quickly, and supply lines are now more about medicine and killing devices. Strange that those are bedfellows. The problem with any wish is the price and it seems my price for hunger is war.
Everyone is aware of M.A.D. so it seems we have much more horrific small scale weapons. You don't need agents of mass destruction when mines and bullets do the trick. We're destroying the land but it's not as big a deal since we don't need to farm it any more.
I solved one problem, I made the world a better place. I did my part. I keep trying to say that. But over and over I'm made to realize that, If you are to be human you must continue to strive. You can not rest at a single problem solved no matter how big. It may be the most important thing you've ever done but the work doesn't stop there. There is more to do.
Maybe if I had ended war the hunger would have been the easier problem to solve. I thought I had "Done my part" but it turns out I can't wash my hands of this. I just wish I knew where to start. | **"What's in the box?" For some people, there's only one answer to that question.**
Possibly the worst part of this entire fiasco is that the genie looks like Wayne Brady. He sounds like Wayne Brady. Listen, I like Wayne Brady as much as the next person - he was great on [Whose Line Is It Anyway?](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0163507/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1) - but I can only stand so much of him being all chipper game-show-hosty and offering to ["make a deal"](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1536749/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1) with me.
I knew I should have stayed away from that flea market. It's not like I need any knick-knacks. I avoid tchotchkes. But that little brass lamp just kind of...called to me. I don't know why. It was so...shiny. But hey, 5 bucks is a steal, right?
Right?
Now I'm starting to think that it wasn't chance that led me to buy that lamp.
"I thought I got three wishes. What kind of half-assed genie are you?" I ask.
The genie's grin gets impossibly wider. His teeth are so white they're almost literally blinding. "Listen, sometimes you don't get wishes - you get choices. These are the choices: no more hunger, no more wars, or you trade everything for what's in the box. So - what's your choice? Hunger? War? Or box?"
I've seen enough episodes of [The Twilight Zone](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0734658/) and [Tales from the Darkside](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0716936/) to know that there has to be some kind of catch. Wasn't there an episode of [The X-files](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0751145/) like this?
"So what's in the box?" I ask.
"It wouldn't be any fun if I just told you what was in the box. Live a little! Make a deal! Take a chance! Make a choice!" The Wayne Brady genie is starting to sound a bit menacing. Also kind of tuneful. Is he singing? Is my life going to turn into that musical episode of [Buffy the Vampire Slayer](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0533466/)?
"Well, can I at least see the box?" I'm starting to lose my patience. What kind of bullshit choices are these? "How big is it?"
The genie's grin stretches even wider, reminding me of Heath Ledger in [The Dark Knight](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0468569/?ref_=nv_sr_1). A cardboard box, about the size of a carton of printer paper, appears out of thin air in his hands. The lid is folded shut, but not taped. "Your deepest desire might be in this box...or it might not," purrs the genie. "But you'll never know unless you open it."
Is this box going to be like the car in [Repo Man](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0087995/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1)? Or that actual box in that movie with [Cameron Diaz and Frank Langella](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0362478/)?
Wait a minute, I think. I'm missing something here. I'm being stupid. I do know what's in the box.
"[Schrodinger](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Schr%C3%B6dinger%27s_cat)!" I call. "Treat time, Schrodinger!"
The box quivers, the flaps of the lid burst apart, and my cat jumps out and into my arms. He glares at the genie, and in a little raspy voice, says, "I told you she'd know it was me. Now you have to grant all my wishes. No more of this 'choice' crap."
I smile at the genie and scritch Schrodinger's chin. Who wants to end world hunger or all wars? This is going to be so much more fun. | |
[WP] On everyone's 18th Birthday, they are brought to a doctor to assign skill points. You decide to put all your points into one group. | You know, I really wish I'd done more as a kid.
Everyone tells you that. "Go outside, you can't keep doing the same thing if you want experience!" "Try new things while you can, you have so much potential!" "Kids grow so fast, don't waste your greatest years!" It's good advice, but even diamonds aren't all that brilliant if you're surrounded by them. A constant storm of clever quotes turns into white noise after a while. And if you don't really do anything, it gets really easy to avoid doing anything.
So I never really felt the need to start anything. If someone gave me advice, I'd glance at them and say thank you and act like I'd take their words to heart. Never really did. Never really travelled, it seemed like a hassle to go see things you could experience just a little less vividly on the Internet. Never really found sports appealing, didn't want to waste hours practicing something pointless. Never joined a clique or rebelled or did especially well in school. I read a bunch for fun but never wrote, messed around on Internet forums but didn't make friends. I just kinda lived, you know?
That's how I ended up in Dr. Mala's office with 9 EXP points. Basically what a preteen would have. And before you tell me I should have tried harder to grind points when I realized I was the only single-digit in my graduating class, **I did**. I was at 7 EXP when I was 17. The average gain when you're under 18 is 1 EXP a year, so earning 2 in one year is pretty awesome, right?! I was actually working my way up to a third before my 18th hit! Spent a whole year eating gross things like peas and mushrooms, learning to ride a bike, wore a nice dress for the first time, played basketball until I could do a goal. It would have earned me way more if I were younger, but at nearly 18 I was lucky to even reach that second point. Sorry, I don't know why I'm still talking about my frantic grinding. I should probably be ashamed instead of being all braggy about it. But I can't help it. The actual things weren't always that fun, but the grind itself was strangely exciting.
Anyways, 9 EXP by the time I walked into Dr. Mala's. You know, there are only [9 main skills](http://i.imgur.com/ibtM5p4.png), and everyone's got a dot in each after puberty. It only takes 1 EXP to get a second skill point, so I guess I could have put one more in everything. Jack of all trades, master of none, wouldn't be your first choice for a hire but at least she's something. But you don't get any specializations like that. Worse, it'd be really easy to figure out my total EXP from that. At least if I boosted 3 or 4 skills I could just put those on my resume and imply that I had points in the rest. But what to choose? I didn't really want physical skills, so Strength, Dexterity and Stamina were on the backburner. Manipulation was just totally out, nobody trusts a girl with any points in Manipulation. Maybe if I had some more Intelligence, I wouldn't fall into this mess again. It could get me into university. Or even some Presence, just fake competency so they don't look at your stats. They say all you need in the big city is Presence and loose morals.
One stuck out. Resolve. The stamina of the mind, the stat that governed willpower itself. Something I sorely lacked. So I bought a skill point in Resolve, and looked at the 9 options again. My new Resolve told me what I had to do. So I spent 2 EXP to gain a third dot, and 3 EXP for the fourth. With 3 EXP remaining, I could still diversify. But I'd save them. I had my heart set on that final dot in Resolve, and I only needed 4 EXP to get it. I'd come back later this year and get it, I swore to myself as I handed back my chart so the doctor could make it permanent.
"I don't know if I can ethically let you leave like this", Dr. Mala said. "Resolve's not bad, I bought 3 skill points in it myself for university. But it works in tandem with *other stats*. It helps you use your Intelligence to the fullest, or be more Composed in a pinch. You can grow faster with Resolve, but you'll have to work far too hard to get there. I don't approve of min-maxing in general, it's actually illegal to max out Manipulation in this province, but if you wan-"
He stopped rambling with a single stare. For the first time in my life, I didn't humor the adult in the room. I didn't try to slick-talk him, or reason with him, or threaten him with force. I just gave him an honest look, and he understood. No amount of Presence could have faked what he saw in my eyes then. I'll never forget that experience.
It would have been really cool if I'd walked out then and there. But I had to ask him to hand back the selection chart after that moment. Without a second thought, I spent 4 EXP and bought the final skill point in Resolve. He sanctioned it without a fight.
I left the doctor's office and began to walk. It was 5 kilometers to home. My feet ached, my shirt grew damp with sweat. I kept going. Catching the bus or calling Uber came to mind, but for once I didn't take the easy way out. I walked home that day, and it took me almost 2 hours to get home. But I did it. It excited me, and I wondered if I could beat that time the day after. So I did, and I kept beating it. You'd be surprised how fast you can run without a bunch of points in Strength and Stamina. How easily you can trick someone without Manipulation. How smart you can actually get without buying a second skill point in Intelligence.
I've actually got enough experience now to round my skills out, but I don't really feel like spending any of this EXP now that I have it. Besides, I think I can still get a few more minutes off my 5K time with my base stats... | By the time my 18th birthday rolled around, I thought it would be really smart to invest all 18 of my skill points into the Luck factor. Snazzy idea right? Being able to be the luckiest man alive right? Well, dear friend of mine, that's where you and I are both wrong. No one in history has ever put all of their skill points into one factor before, perhaps no has been dumb enough to actually have done it.
You see, there are 5 factors that an average person possesses. Strength, Wisdom, Charisma, Luck, and Dexterity. Each has a significant use when applied correctly, like having the majority of possible points dedicated to Strength enhances physical prowess to a super human-like degree. Same goes to the other factors as well.
The thing is, it's always distributed to where it has at least some sort of balance. *THIS* right here is where I fucked up. If you met someone that had a massive amount of intellect, you'd assume most of their points have been accumulated to the Wisdom factor right? Where in you *are* correct in that sense, all of that person's points are still seemingly balanced. You see, if that certain individual had gotten into a situation where he'd get his ass kicked, he would be able to at least talk his way out thanks to that 1-2 points in his Charisma factor. Vice versa when it comes to someone that has a good deal of points assigned to Strength, meaning that thanks to the 3 or 5 points in Wisdom, that individual would be able to decipher whether or not its the time to use his/her strength.
*I*, on the other hand, devoted ALL my points into my Luck factor, believing that I would be the luckiest man alive. By all means, I *am* by far the luckiest man to have lived, just not by your standards though.
Every day, I'm lucky to be alive. I'm too stupid to see whats right or wrong, causing me to commit crimes on a daily basis without even realizing it. I always get into fights with other people because of my low Charisma, and can't even attempt to defend myself with my low Strength factor. I can't apply for a job because of incredibly shitty hand-writing, let alone try to get disability checks.
Everyday is a struggle to survive, The only thing my luck has gotten me so far is the familiar situation of lying in a dark alley every night on the verge of death, lucky to still be breathing.
This is my first time turning from reader to writer on this SubReddit! Hope you enjoyed it! | |
[WP] The fire begins to dwindle and eyes appear in the darkness. | Her campfire was burning down, the flames dwindling to pitiful embers. She watched the small remaining log warily, as the flames popped and cracked and fought for life. It wouldn't be long now.
Nervously she shifted, pressing a hand against the hard ground on which she sat. How was she to fight off this danger again? How many times would she have to face this threat? She gazed warily at the darkness. They would come like wolves, sensing her weakness as the darkness creeped in. She should have sought out more logs, been more prepared. She never should have let her fire die down so!
She heard shuffling in the distance. With a groan, she pushed a loose strand of hair back against her messy braid, her eyes locked on the darkness before her. She reached around her, patting the rocky ground until her fingers came into contact with cool metal. She curled her fingers around the sword's hilt. Perhaps they would notice it. Perhaps they would notice her worn leather vest and her weaponry. She was a warrior, her very attire screamed it! Perhaps this time they would actually notice and leave her be!
Eyes appeared in the darkness, glowing bright. They flashed in the barest remains of the fire as they drew closer.
She took a breathe and shifted to her feet, ready to bolt at a moments notice. "Please," she whispered softly to the still night air. It was a whisper, a plea, a wish. "Please just leave me alone for once."
The eyes did not hear. Or perhaps their owner simply did not care. They drew closer. Closer still.
The shape of their owner came into view, a towering shadow separating himself from the darkness. As he stepped into the last light of the fire, the small remaining flame shone against his polished armor. His helm was designed in the shape of a wolf, two bright jewels shining as it's eyes, reflecting in the light of the last dying flame.
"My dear lady!" he cried as he took another step forward. "I could not help but notice that you are trapped here all alone, and your fire is dying out! Why I find I cannot ignore such a lovely damsel in distress! Allow me to rescue you, my dear fair maiden."
The woman sighed. All it took was one sign that something might not be going right, one little sign of a problem, and these cursed fool nights practically came swarming out of the woodwork. It was tough being a warrior woman in a fairy tale world. | Spsssh. A fat rain drop lands on the fire. As if it weren't dwindling before, its exodus starts to gets rapider. You sharpen your spear on that rock, faster and faster. Scrape scrape scrape.
Howls. The eyes seem to be growing in size, and malice, as the fire fades. Spsssh spssh. Two more drops. Beasts are all around you, in a disjointed circle with no exit wide enough for you to be confident of making it through.
Spsssh spsssh spsssh. scrape scrape scrape. You are speaking your last regrets, under your breath. "I wish I had never come to this island." "I wish I had gathered more wood." "I wish I could have saved myself."
You wipe your scraped hands in the wet dirt to wash blood off. Spsssh spsssh spsssh spsssh spsssh. The rain turns into a torrential downpour, and every one of the beast begins to attack you. | |
[WP] And the alien turned to me and said "And so, human, now that I've spoken of mine, tell me, what was your homeworld like, before it also was lost?" | “We built ceaselessly and fought ferociously – that was the way of Rifters. Our fault was that we were reckless, and a poor match for our opponents. In the end, Rift was engulfed in flames and we were forced to leave. The ships froze us in sleep and it took us much longer than we’d expected to reach a viable planet.” His hand swept across the sights before us. It ought to have been a great view, looking out from the sixth floor of the grand palace onto the undulating landscape of the city. The grand structures of steel stood firm amidst the licking flames. From time to time, there were outcries of pure human emotion and shrill noises of metal clashing against metal. It was hugely distracting.
“The fighting…” the human began, but wasn’t sure how to continue.
“This war began four months ago. Oh don’t worry about it, they’ll never reach us here.”
It sounded awfully close. The human might have been imagining it, but he seemed to feel the wavering heat of the fires. Amidst the countless circuits within himself, he unlocked six of the levels of security for **WAR** mode, leaving the key to the final level hidden by the door. The payload that he was carrying was much too important to risk losing here.
“And so, human, now that I’ve spoken of mine, I am very curious about yours. Tell me, what was your home world like, before it also was lost?” His eyes glistened with a genuine interest to learn.
I sat back and took a breath to give myself time to consider how to begin. “I’ve never seen it. But I carry the weight of all who have, and it is just as vivid as my own memories. So, if you’ll allow me, I will tell you their story.” The Rifter nodded.
He dived into the Collective, in search of pieces to assemble. He went with the tide of the majority, letting conflicting memories counteract each other, and coherent ones bubbled to the top. There were very old memories, which could not be explained except that there had been immortal humans surviving to the end of Earth, or a way for memories to be passed down generations in much more elegant ways than language.
“Eden,” the human intuitively found the right word from the Collective. “It began with our landing at The Garden of Eden.”
The Rifter’s irises constricted, making his pupils wider. His hormonal levels surged and his heart and muscles clenched from it. Then, as if it was a passing whim, he heaved a sigh and all of his biological signs went back to normal. His heart continued to race involuntarily from the fuel of his remaining hormones.
“You mean to tell me that the hallowed Garden of Eden was found by another Adam and another Eve? You mean to say that we had taken so long that Eden has been found, and then lost to flames? What about the prophecy? The Edorians, did they bleed the blood of gold?”
“If you would care to listen, I will give you all of the answers,” the human said, “To answer your most pressing question, as far as I know, Edoras is gone.”
---
I am building the Rift-Edoras universe, prompt by prompt. Second drafts eventually go [here](https://fivenswrite.wordpress.com). | The Zerkernian put the ship on autopilot. They were heading to his own homeworld. The Zerkernian had picked up the human over an hour ago. His crew dead, his ship destroyed. He noted that the human had no recollection of where he was. The only way it was still alive was because of the cryogenic stasis chamber he was in.
He scanned the human over, only just now were the effects of cryo sleep wearing off. The human sat there with a wolkaen blanket draped around him.
"Are you going to answer, human?" The Zerkernian asked. He knew that the earthlings had only just reached the ability for space travel, judging by the looks of his suit and his ship.
"I'm sorry, I just don't know where to start." That was a lie. The human was still trying to take in the events that just unfolded. His friends and family were dead, what for?
"You have a name, yes?" The Zerkernian asked while standing up and walking over to what seemed to be a locker of some sort.
"Yes, my name is Weston, Weston Kanger." The human further asked. "How is it exactly that we can understand one another."
The Zerkernian explained that his people had formed an ability over a span of eons that allowed them to communicate with any species. Their people were a political kind. Forming bonds, making alliances. Rushing to the aid of other planets, other systems. His race was the oldest race, before him sat the youngest. One he didn't know about until merely moments ago.
"Earth. A beautiful planet, really. Mountains, deserts, beaches, forests, jungles, small towns, bustling cities. Before I signed up for space exploration, I was a travel journalist. I guess you could say it was in my blood.
The Zerkernian smiled slightly and nodded.
"We as a race were always reaching for the stars and what lied beyond them. I'm glad to say that we didn't exhaust our planet, we didn't over populate it. We even built machines to repair the damage that previous generations did. Extinct species from all forms of life returned, the planet flourished. I became a travel journalist to document these things, to find out if the newly returned species were having to adapt, or not at all."
The Zerkernian thought this interesting. A machine that could turn back the effects of neglect and harmful harvesting? These humans were young, yes, but exceptionally brilliant.
"That's all I remember of Earth, really. The wars stopped, we united as a whole people to try and reach other solar systems, to find new forms of life. I was supposed to be one of them to document it all. To learn of the new cultures we faced, hostile or not."
The hud on the ships windshield lit up.
"Arriving to Zerkan in 3 minutes." A mechanized voice said softly.
"Well, Weston. Now you will get to see the beauty and splendor of Zerkan. Then, we will see what we can do for your kind."
The ship exited hyper speed and slowly descended through the atmosphere. Weston looked out and was taken back by the beauty of the planet.
"Like what you see, traveler?" The Zerkernian asked.
The human nodded in approval.
| |
[WP] And the alien turned to me and said "And so, human, now that I've spoken of mine, tell me, what was your homeworld like, before it also was lost?" | “We built ceaselessly and fought ferociously – that was the way of Rifters. Our fault was that we were reckless, and a poor match for our opponents. In the end, Rift was engulfed in flames and we were forced to leave. The ships froze us in sleep and it took us much longer than we’d expected to reach a viable planet.” His hand swept across the sights before us. It ought to have been a great view, looking out from the sixth floor of the grand palace onto the undulating landscape of the city. The grand structures of steel stood firm amidst the licking flames. From time to time, there were outcries of pure human emotion and shrill noises of metal clashing against metal. It was hugely distracting.
“The fighting…” the human began, but wasn’t sure how to continue.
“This war began four months ago. Oh don’t worry about it, they’ll never reach us here.”
It sounded awfully close. The human might have been imagining it, but he seemed to feel the wavering heat of the fires. Amidst the countless circuits within himself, he unlocked six of the levels of security for **WAR** mode, leaving the key to the final level hidden by the door. The payload that he was carrying was much too important to risk losing here.
“And so, human, now that I’ve spoken of mine, I am very curious about yours. Tell me, what was your home world like, before it also was lost?” His eyes glistened with a genuine interest to learn.
I sat back and took a breath to give myself time to consider how to begin. “I’ve never seen it. But I carry the weight of all who have, and it is just as vivid as my own memories. So, if you’ll allow me, I will tell you their story.” The Rifter nodded.
He dived into the Collective, in search of pieces to assemble. He went with the tide of the majority, letting conflicting memories counteract each other, and coherent ones bubbled to the top. There were very old memories, which could not be explained except that there had been immortal humans surviving to the end of Earth, or a way for memories to be passed down generations in much more elegant ways than language.
“Eden,” the human intuitively found the right word from the Collective. “It began with our landing at The Garden of Eden.”
The Rifter’s irises constricted, making his pupils wider. His hormonal levels surged and his heart and muscles clenched from it. Then, as if it was a passing whim, he heaved a sigh and all of his biological signs went back to normal. His heart continued to race involuntarily from the fuel of his remaining hormones.
“You mean to tell me that the hallowed Garden of Eden was found by another Adam and another Eve? You mean to say that we had taken so long that Eden has been found, and then lost to flames? What about the prophecy? The Edorians, did they bleed the blood of gold?”
“If you would care to listen, I will give you all of the answers,” the human said, “To answer your most pressing question, as far as I know, Edoras is gone.”
---
I am building the Rift-Edoras universe, prompt by prompt. Second drafts eventually go [here](https://fivenswrite.wordpress.com). | “It was an eyesore,” I said. “You could see the pollution from orbit. They barely had days on the surface, just slightly brighter smog.”
My alien fellow drinker listened attentively. He had the makings of a terrific listener, but I liked him talking. He had a way with words, having just made me weep for a world I’d never seen. I wasn’t sure the experience I offered was much of an exchange.
“We were split into nation states,” I said. “Whole groups of people hating whole other groups of people. The bombings. The wounds we tore in the planet to subject her to industrial processes I wouldn’t wish on a serial killer. The trash thrown into the last great ecosystem, anything to get it out of the way so we could concentrate on our toys. Artificial islands of people’s waste, but it’s all right because we don’t have to look at it from our overbuilt shores.
“The activists said we were raping her. Maybe we did. But it wasn’t just us. Our fathers, and their fathers, on through history, polluted with the abandon of someone who just learned that you can rip off a daddy long-leg’s leg and still watch it stumble onward.”
I stopped. I considered my glass. “What can I say? She ran out of legs.”
| |
[WP] And the alien turned to me and said "And so, human, now that I've spoken of mine, tell me, what was your homeworld like, before it also was lost?" | Henry smiled thinly. He looked down into the glass on the bar in front of him, like a man trying to see down to the bottom of a murky lake. He lifted the glass, took a sip, and felt it burn a trail down his throat before he went on. "Lovely," he said in a quiet, choked voice. "Oh, we had our problems, just like your people. But who doesn't? Actually, I think it was our struggles that made our world more beautiful. Our world was worth struggling for."
The alien was nodding, his ebony scales shimmering under the bar's dim lights. "What is the view from a mountaintop without the toil of the climb?"
Henry nodded, then dropped his eyes again. "Earth... all of its parts harmonized with each other. Vibrant forests and shining oceans from whence we came, and shining cities that showed us where we were going." He cleared his throat. "Where we thought we were going."
The alien's mouth was set hard. He patted Henry's shoulder with one heavy, clawed hand. "You'll get there still, my friend. We both will."
Henry shook his head slowly. "The Necrons came so quickly. They moved so fast. A whole world consumed in a matter of days. It was--" He shot a glance at the alien. "I don't have to tell you how brutal they are."
The alien was gritting his many pointed teeth. "Animals." Was all he could say, with a growl.
"I was off-world at the time. I still don't know whether to thank God or curse him. My wife, my children... I don't know if they made it out. I-- I don't know where they--" Henry's voice broke, and he looked away, putting a hand over his face.
The alien once again laid a hand on Henry's shoulder. "If it is the will of the Cosmos, you will see them again."
Henry met the alien's eyes again. "Thank you," he said. "But at this rate, I don't know if I'll ever find out. Most of the refugees landed on Gotha station, and the price of taking a shuttle there, it's just too much. I've been saving for months, but I just can't--"
*Thump*
Henry jumped. The alien had slapped twenty Credits onto the bar between them. He offered Henry a toothy smile. "They gouge you for fares between stations, I know it all too well. I'm sure this isn't everything you need, but truly, I hope it helps you."
Henry's mouth hung open. "I... Thank you! I can't thank you enough."
"Get back to your family," the alien said calmly. "That will be thanks enough." He gave Henry a final slap on the back. He threw back the rest of his drink, and pushed himself away from the bar. He turned and left.
The woman behind the bar shook her head. She was polishing a stack of glasses in front of her with a washrag. She had listened to the entire exchange, trying not to roll her eyes. "You're a real bastard, you know that, Henry? Guy seemed real nice." She hooked a thumb towards the door that the alien had just left through.
"I'm nice, too." Henry laughed. "Real nice." He handed the twenty-Credit note to her. "This should keep me going for a while, huh?"
"At least until the next sap walks in."
Henry grinned. "It's a big universe. There's one born every nanosecond." | "It was diverse, to say the least. In some areas, new technology, theory, literature and all sorts of discoveries were made. In others, mothers sold their children to unchecked slavers for a loaf of bread. There were mountains higher than the cloulds, chasms deeper than the eye could see. We built towers that absorbed the energy from our sun and turned into useable, we built bombs that could destroy cities and make the land near it unliveable for centuries. Some of the population was truely good; they wanted to help those who needed help the most. There were others who actively sought to sabotage or harm other people for their own personal gain."
"How did you keep such a people under control in a single society ?"
"We didn't. We were divided by borders, sentiments and landscapes. Neighbouring countries didn't always get along due to differing mentalities that escalate to war."
"Such a people sounds dangerous. Perhaps too dangerous for serious integration."
"Why do you think those united worlds destroyed mine ?" | |
[WP] When you stare into someone's eyes, you can see their deepest desires, and this information has made you very successful. One day, you meet someone at a coffee shop and stare into their eyes. You see nothing. | I love my mornings.
Dull and boring. Composed of a simple cup of tea and a newspaper at the world’s most uninteresting diner where the only common theme is the colour beige. I know everyone in here, though they don’t know me. Simple people who have ordinary dreams and desires. By ordinary, I mean unachievable. Man in the seat by window? Wants a Ferrari. Never gonna happen, he’s a garbage man, and doesn’t even play the lottery. Woman and her friends? They all want things they’re never gonna get. New husbands from Brazil with tanned muscles, sensuous golden long locks of hair and suchlike. They’re all over fifty years old and haven’t changed their schedules in years. Thing is though, everyone in here knows that their dreams are unachievable. It’s what makes me able to bear this place.
My mornings remind me that not everyone is naive and idealistic, and thus, going to be crushed and ground down by the weight of reality. It’s also why I’ve scheduled my first meeting to occur here, they asked for me personally apparently. I can somewhat guess why, I’m a family doctor. Everyone has desires, and I’ve found that of all desires, everyone wants a good doctor to call on. I can shake a clients hand, look into their eyes, and know what they want from me. I can arrange what they want, bring to the fore what they’re afraid to see and make discrete arrangements for say, that cancer treatment they don’t want their family to know about. I could have been greedy, could have become a banker, a con artist, a pick up artist. I decided to do something that was actually worthwhile, and achievable. That and it’s kind of been the family business for the past two hundred years or so. My siblings might have flew the nest, but I stayed and earned the pride of my father. I’m not rich like my stockbroker brother, but I have all I need. I might not be thumping with adrenaline like my thrill seeking sister the lifelong mountain climber, but I’ve seen what that can do to people. Not for me.
My clients running a little late I note, I check my battered wristwatch, cast an eye around the coffee shop, then turn my sight to the window. Raining, grey, people hurrying on through the downpour in the small town I’d never bothered to move away from. I sigh, before returning my attention to my newspaper. Usual trivial stuff, I flick to the arts and leisure section. I’m devouring an article on an exhibit at the state capital museum when my client enters. I look up, flush a little at the sight of my client. A woman, completely at odds with the world around her, long hair, a rich red trench coat, hands in pockets, collar upturned and eyes searching around. Frantic, almost desperate. Why? That’s the question I wonder, before coughing lightly. Her eyes turn to me, sees the suitcase by my feet, the sign of Asclepius emblazoned in faded gold gilding on it. Passed down for forty years that suitcase, all the town know the suitcase, know the man who holds it.
I shut, fold and set my newspaper down on the table. Stand as the woman approaches, speaking as she walks over to me, heels clicking on the diner floor.
She avoids eye contact as I speak. I chalk it down to nervousness.
“You must be Julia?”
She nods, I hold out my hand, smile, and speak.
“Nice to meet you, I’m William...”
I trail off as her eyes meet mine. Cold brown eyes. Empty. Nothing. My hand drops, consciously moves to the gun I keep on me at all times. She shakes her head, takes a seat. I do the same. We sit in silence for a moment, a waiter passes, she doesn’t order anything. I don’t either. Our eyes never part the whole while. At last she speaks.
“Chilling. Isn’t it?”
“What are you?”
“I’m like you William.”
“There isn’t anyone like me Julia. If your name really is Julia.”
She leans forwards, eyes amused, a small wry grin on her blood red lipstick coated lips.
“Tell me William. What if I told you, that there are others like you. Super-powered people?”
“I’d say you’re wrong.”
The grin turns to a smile, she raises her hand, clicks her fingers. Speaks as I stare at the floating cutlery between us.
“That’s where you’re wrong. And we have sixty seconds to move before they come for us.” | It's not easy being everything to everyone. Someone want's to win the lottery, I give them a fake ticket for a reduced price. Someone want's true love, I become the "one" until I get what I want. Someone wants to die....I may have wiggled my way into a Will or two.
I have been at this for a while, I got to the point where I could look at someone and know exactly what their deepest desires are. I have come a long way though. I use to see everything they were thinking about, it took a while to weed through to see how I could use this to my advantage.
Now, I can usually get what I want pretty quick. The way I see it, they deserve what they get, most of them are scum anyway. Not the kind of people I would associate with if I did not have too.
Of course I would never prey on the poor, the homeless, or the ones that did not deserve it. I do have my limits. I only prey on the ones I deemed to be unworthy. I have really become a great judge of character.
After I had been doing this for a while, I started to visit the people I had take advantage of, just to see how they had turned out after. I found out, they were all dead. Every last one of those people I looked at, everyone who eyes I looked into, and took there deepest desire from, is not dead.
I came to realize, I was literally taking their deepest desire from them. And when I left, so did there desire.
I found this out by accident you see. One day I was sitting in my Bugatti, I saw this really beautiful person in the coffee shop. Decked out in furs and diamonds. Not paying any mind to the homeless person asking for some food. I decided, that is someone who could use a new view on life. I went sat at the table introduced myself and stared into her eyes. Nothing, I saw nothing. this scared me real bad. I was chilled to the bone, it had never happened like this. I must have been side tracked, because that is when she touched me, brought me back to looking into her eyes, then it happened.
She told me my deepest desires.
Since then, I have no will to go on. I now have desires at all. I cannot remember the last time I ate, slept, changed clothes. So now here I stand on this ledge, telling you my story, giving you a warning while I am waiting to jump, fall, or whatever. it doesn't matter. it doesn't matter.
it doesn't matter.
| |
[WP] When you stare into someone's eyes, you can see their deepest desires, and this information has made you very successful. One day, you meet someone at a coffee shop and stare into their eyes. You see nothing. | I love my mornings.
Dull and boring. Composed of a simple cup of tea and a newspaper at the world’s most uninteresting diner where the only common theme is the colour beige. I know everyone in here, though they don’t know me. Simple people who have ordinary dreams and desires. By ordinary, I mean unachievable. Man in the seat by window? Wants a Ferrari. Never gonna happen, he’s a garbage man, and doesn’t even play the lottery. Woman and her friends? They all want things they’re never gonna get. New husbands from Brazil with tanned muscles, sensuous golden long locks of hair and suchlike. They’re all over fifty years old and haven’t changed their schedules in years. Thing is though, everyone in here knows that their dreams are unachievable. It’s what makes me able to bear this place.
My mornings remind me that not everyone is naive and idealistic, and thus, going to be crushed and ground down by the weight of reality. It’s also why I’ve scheduled my first meeting to occur here, they asked for me personally apparently. I can somewhat guess why, I’m a family doctor. Everyone has desires, and I’ve found that of all desires, everyone wants a good doctor to call on. I can shake a clients hand, look into their eyes, and know what they want from me. I can arrange what they want, bring to the fore what they’re afraid to see and make discrete arrangements for say, that cancer treatment they don’t want their family to know about. I could have been greedy, could have become a banker, a con artist, a pick up artist. I decided to do something that was actually worthwhile, and achievable. That and it’s kind of been the family business for the past two hundred years or so. My siblings might have flew the nest, but I stayed and earned the pride of my father. I’m not rich like my stockbroker brother, but I have all I need. I might not be thumping with adrenaline like my thrill seeking sister the lifelong mountain climber, but I’ve seen what that can do to people. Not for me.
My clients running a little late I note, I check my battered wristwatch, cast an eye around the coffee shop, then turn my sight to the window. Raining, grey, people hurrying on through the downpour in the small town I’d never bothered to move away from. I sigh, before returning my attention to my newspaper. Usual trivial stuff, I flick to the arts and leisure section. I’m devouring an article on an exhibit at the state capital museum when my client enters. I look up, flush a little at the sight of my client. A woman, completely at odds with the world around her, long hair, a rich red trench coat, hands in pockets, collar upturned and eyes searching around. Frantic, almost desperate. Why? That’s the question I wonder, before coughing lightly. Her eyes turn to me, sees the suitcase by my feet, the sign of Asclepius emblazoned in faded gold gilding on it. Passed down for forty years that suitcase, all the town know the suitcase, know the man who holds it.
I shut, fold and set my newspaper down on the table. Stand as the woman approaches, speaking as she walks over to me, heels clicking on the diner floor.
She avoids eye contact as I speak. I chalk it down to nervousness.
“You must be Julia?”
She nods, I hold out my hand, smile, and speak.
“Nice to meet you, I’m William...”
I trail off as her eyes meet mine. Cold brown eyes. Empty. Nothing. My hand drops, consciously moves to the gun I keep on me at all times. She shakes her head, takes a seat. I do the same. We sit in silence for a moment, a waiter passes, she doesn’t order anything. I don’t either. Our eyes never part the whole while. At last she speaks.
“Chilling. Isn’t it?”
“What are you?”
“I’m like you William.”
“There isn’t anyone like me Julia. If your name really is Julia.”
She leans forwards, eyes amused, a small wry grin on her blood red lipstick coated lips.
“Tell me William. What if I told you, that there are others like you. Super-powered people?”
“I’d say you’re wrong.”
The grin turns to a smile, she raises her hand, clicks her fingers. Speaks as I stare at the floating cutlery between us.
“That’s where you’re wrong. And we have sixty seconds to move before they come for us.” | "Excuse me Miss, do you mind if I sit here?"
I look up to see the source of the polite voice, a young man, maybe 19 years old, standing by the other seat at my table holding a mug and saucer. I Quickly look around the coffee shop and see it's filled up since my arrival earlier in the morning.
"Of course, let me move my stuff," I answer, swiftly gathering many of the papers strewn across the table and stuffing them into my bag.
"Please don't rush for my sake Miss," He says in this charming English accent.
I proceed to ignore him and clear everything else into one neat pile laid next to my laptop.
"Feel free to join me," I invite gesturing to the empty chair.
"Thank you Miss, I'm William," He extends his hand across the table.
"I'm Iris, it's nice to meet you," I shake his hand. He has a firm grip, like someone used to formalities.
"The pleasure is mine," he replies, the third part of the gentleman's greeting. "I hope I'm not intruding too badly."
I look at the watch on my wrist, a simple clockwork thing my mom had bought me years ago, to see it was almost One o'clock.
"You're fine, it's probably time for me to break anyway, My doctor would warn me of carpal tunnel or something."
"That sounds wise, we wouldn't want a fervent scholar such as yourself getting injured would we.
"What gives you that impression of me?" I ask, checking which papers I'd left on the table, "Or do you assume all people sat in coffee shops with laptops are students?"
"Not an assumption, call it... an educated guess. You are someone who is searching for something intangible, like myself. If I were to guess I'd assume an understanding of existence through philosophy."
I sit there in shock for a moment, unable to comprehend.
"You just read me like a book, who are you?" I eventually ask, a little shocked.
"Just a boy who wants to understand 'understanding'. May I talk with you for a while?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~
A few hours passed, I'm not sure how many. This strange boy with a charming accent started by asking which branch of philosophy was my main area of study and so discussed Nihilism with me for a while, however he soon managed to segue into areas I knew less about. Nihilism turned to Absurdism turned to Ethics to Art to even Sport.
Eventually he told me his own theory to the purpose of human existence.
"Humans exist to argue," He said soundly, "Not to win arguments or to find answers, but to work with and against each other in the search of an answer."
Shortly after he gave this conclusion the shop closed, and we were ushered out.
As we stood outside the door in the darkening street there was only one more question I wanted to ask.
"Can you answer you more question for me, completely truthfully?"
"I suppose that's the least I can do seeing how you entertained me for the whole day, ask away."
"Why did you really sit with me today? Don't tell me because you needed somewhere to drink your coffee, there's obviously more to it than that."
He sighs, thinks a moment and starts to talk.
"When I entered that shop I only intended to get a drink and leave. But your eyes caught me, grey and dull. Devoid of life or hope. That is something I can't stand seeing.
I decided to help you, or at the very least help you help yourself. I'm happy to say it seems to have worked, you're smiling, your eyes are bright, you're even holding yourself differently."
"You'd do all that for a stranger?" I ask incredulously.
"I'd hardly call us strangers now would you," He laughs, "It has been a pleasure knowing you Iris."
With that he turned and walked into the night. | |
[WP] You are an ancient evil, sealed away millennia ago by a legendary hero. You have escaped your imprisonment and attained a physical form. The first course of business? Learning how to walk. | She was finally free. After millennia of being bound to the Amulet of Bast, some fool had finally broken the spell and Neith was finally released from her hellish prison. Stretching her arms to the sky, the ancient evil being cooed with delight.
Wait... Cooed? Neith began to panic slightly, confused by the sound that came from her mouth. She was a thing to be feared. She did not... coo. She attempted to howl in triumph, but it came out more like a ear piecing and desperate sounding shriek.
No, no, no, no. Something was not right. Neith lifted her head as best she could, noting how heavy it seemed to be now. She waved her arms in frustration and was bewildered to see they were soft, small and pudgy. She flexed each tiny fist, perplexed at her situation. What in all the Gods' names was going on? Neith began screaming, the sound practically sending shockwaves through the room. Moments later, a small boned and harassed looking woman came rushing into the room.
"Oh, my poor darling," the woman said in a babying tone. "What is the matter?"
'How dare you speak to me as in such an insolent way! I am an ancient being to be feared and worshiped, not coddled,' Neith snapped.
Her protests instead came out as high volume shrieks as opposed to a voice that typically sent mere mortals to their knees. As her yowling got louder, the woman picked sat her up and made her turn so she was facing reflective glass.
"Emma, look who it is! That's you!" the women said, pointing to Neith's reflection. "It's my sweet baby girl in the mirror."
'Bloody fucking hell,' Neith thought, staring at her reflection. She was a Gods damned infant.
This was an absolute nightmare. Neith had not thought for a second that, when the seal on the Amulet of Bast was broken, that she would be forced into the body of a helpless child. This was an absolute nightmare.
Ready to cry again in frustration, Neith took a long look at herself in the mirror. If she was going to be stuck in this body, she was going to own it. She looked down at her fleshy legs and moved them experimentally.
'Alright,' Neith thought. 'First things first: learn how to walk." | For four thousand years Hector the Arch Lich had been trapped inside the Tomb of the Damned. All the greatest mages and clerics of the land had cast their spells upon the Tomb to ensure that Hector would never escape.
They could not have counted upon the earthquake that shattered the realm, that unmoored the Tomb from it's foundations and cracked the seal upon it. Hector's essences bled into the world until finally he was free. Now at long last his vengeance was at hand.
He floated up the endless stairwells and drifted through the vast catacombs of the underground fortress he'd been trapped in. He needed a body, a vessel to control to be able to do any real damage in this world. The noise above him made it clear he was about to find one.
They were scavengers, looking for treasure off the backs of the dead, likely the earthquake had opened a hole into this dungeon and got the men's hopes up with dreams of lost treasures hidden in the depths. They were about to be in for a nightmare.
Hector descended upon one of them, the man's eyes turning jet black as the essence of the Arch Lich entered him.
"Demon!" screamed one of the other two men, he ran at his possessed friend and stabbed him repeatedly in the belly. Hector responded with a horrible scream that set the man on fire from head to toe. His other man turned and ran in terror. Hector reveled in his power for a few moments before he realized the body he'd taken over had been gutted from the stab wounds and was unable to sustain itself. Hector crashed to the ground and laid there motionless.
Hector thought this would be no big deal, he'd been undead for hundreds of years, but the body wasn't responding, wasn't listening to his commands. It was only with great agony that he was able to bend one of the knees and then the other and then begin the horrible process of turning over onto his side.
It was in this moment that he remembered his suit of armor. The armor he'd spent a hundred years tailoring to meet his needs in death. The suit handled all the movement issues, gave him his senses, even helped amplify his voice to make his spells work. It was destroyed in his great defeat, it's like never to be seen again. He now understood that he needed a living body to control to be able to handle his revenge, he'd royally screwed up allowing this one to die while he was tethered to it. He had no idea how long it would take for him to free himself from this prison of decaying flesh.
Over the course of several hours he finally got to his feet. With supreme focus he slowly shambled his way forward. He had to get out of this dungeon, if he could but touch a living being he could transfer his conscientiousness to them and truly begin his reign of terror. He was so close, he just had to find a way.
He tried a levitation spell but his sense of direction and space was all messed up, the dead eyes he was looking through didn't work right he ended up smashing into walls and dislocating a shoulder, now he had a useless arm on top of everything else to deal with, back to the slow and horrible shambling.
A day passed as he slowly dragged himself to the foot of a giant stairwell, the steps before him were impossible for him to count. Each one more painful then the one before it, but his terrible will pushed him to continue, to find a way up the steps.
As he neared the end he could feel the sun, the accursed sun he'd hated for all of his unlife beating down upon him and he felt a joy he'd hadn't perhaps ever. Finally he was free.
Then the aftershock hit and sent him toppling down all those steps, shattering every limb of his undead body, leaving him a broken ruined heap at the base of the stairs.
"Well that's a bit of a setback." Hector thought. | |
[WP] You're playing a videogame at home late at night. You hear that special sound and see a trophy; it says "I can see you". | My name's Mark. I've been playing videogames for as long as I remember. Not having many friends, it felt good to connect with virtual characters. That sounds a bit sad, but it's not all that bad. At least I get paid to play them now.
I was testing out the new Silent Hill game that my company sent me. You know, testing for bugs and things like that. I was in a particularly "scary" part of the game (nothing really scares me anymore, but it gave off that vibe).
I was in a dark room and there were footsteps echoing a moment ago. The lights shut off and the screen is dark. I hear whispers nearby, shortly after the lights turn on again. An achievement pops up, "I see you - 15G"
I press the home button to see the description. It reads, "Encountered It for the first time".
Well, that's dumb. I'll notate that in my next report. | The trophy opens its mouth. A piercing red light is emitted from the jaw of the beast. My eyes can barely open but between the slither of vision I make out its razor sharp canine like teeth. The rest of its mouth is filled with ashes and brimstone that are seemingly increasing in intensity. He begins to speak. His voice grim and unnerving, the low pitch sends deep rosanant vibrations across the room almost overshadowing his voice. However, his cadence is familiar; I'm able to make out his few words. He says "I see you". Before I have a chance to reply he continues "you are of Jewish decent". Thinking this may be a test of my faith I agree in a barely audible trembling tone "y-yes". The room begins to fill with gas...
| |
[WP] Write the script and dialogue for two separate first date scenarios. One that goes well, and one that goes poorly. HOWEVER, they must both have the same exact dialogue in both stories. | “Here you are.” A neatly dressed waiter placed a pair of silver plates in front of the couple. He nodded graciously, pouring out two glasses of rich red wine. “Can I get you anything else?”
Carol smiled at the waiter, politely accepting the plate of shrimp scampi. “No, thank you,” she said, waving him away.
She stared across the white tablecloth at her blind date. What should she say? Did he want to talk while he was eating? She grabbed a plump shrimp out of the pasta and began to nibble on it, watching for her date’s next move.
Alan unrolled his silverware and stuffed a large wad of salad into his mouth. “Wow, this is delicious.”
Carol twirled some pasta around with her fork. These blind dates were always super awkward. Looking up, she noticed that Alan’s salad was filled with carrots, spinach, tomatoes…but no meat of any kind. Interesting.
“You don’t eat meat?” she asked quietly.
Alan swallowed his food, looking back at her with genuine curiosity. “What?” he asked.
Carol cleared her throat. “You don’t eat meat?” she asked, louder. “You’re a vegetarian.”
He nodded, smiling. “Vegan,” he said, taking another bite of salad. He cocked his head, leaning in. “Are you feeling okay?”
Carol laughed, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “Never better!” she said cheerily. Ugh, was it obvious?
...
Chris took a long sip of water. He was trying to avoid eye contact with the woman across the table, who, judging by the way she was staring, seemed to be searching him for signs of weakness. Sweating profusely, Chris put down the glass and began fiddling with his silverware. He guessed this served him right for dating online instead of going out and meeting people. Chris exhaled deeply. All he had to do was get through this one evening.
Daring to look up, he met Lucy’s unyielding stare. She definitely had looked a lot less intense online. He gave her a halfhearted smile. Should he say something? What had she said she liked to talk about?
Chris was saved by the arrival of the waiter. “Here you go,” the man said, placing a lavishly garnished steak in front of Chris. “Can I get you anything else?”
“No, thank you,” Chris said, giving the man a tiny salute. The waiter bowed and returned to the kitchen.
Chris rubbed his hands together, preparing to dig into his steak. Taking a small bite, he closed his eyes, letting the distinct flavors of spices and meat blend into a single heavenly mouthful. “Wow,” he breathed, “this is delicious.”
He glanced up at his date to notice Lucy’s stare had transformed into a gaping expression of shock. What was her deal? Chris looked over at her plate. Was there something wrong with her food?
“You don’t eat meat.” spat Lucy, looking disdainfully down at Chris’s slab of meat.
Chris put down his fork and knife. “What?”
Loudly grinding her chair on the floor, Lucy stood up. “You don’t eat meat!” she screamed down at him.
Chris winced, noticing his date had begun to attract some stares. “You’re, uh, a vegetarian?” he asked, trying to calm her down.
Lucy held up her salad bowl, displaying it to Chris. “Vegan,” she said icily. She released the bowl, letting it drop to the fake cobblestone floor and shatter into a million pieces.
Chris looked down in horror, then up at his date. “Are you feeling okay?”
Lucy squatted down, wrapping her arms around the table. She flipped it to one side, sending plates and glasses crashing to the floor. The customers around them gasped loudly.
“Never better.” said Lucy, stomping down on Chris’s steak with one high heel.
---
Wow, now I'm hungry. For more stories, that is! Check out /r/FlyingNarwhal. | Morgan stood mouth agape at the downtown scene. Drew appeared at the car door and let her out into the night.
"You chose this place!" She turned and wrapped around his neck, kicking her feet behind her.
"I thought you'd like it," he smiled, "it's one of my favorites."
"This is great! I've never had Thai before. This should be interesting."
They scurried into the small restaurant and found a table at the back. The smells of spice and soy sauce wafted through the air. Morgan busily finished her make-up as she noticed Drew with his hand opened to a ready seat.
"You going to sit down?" He smiled again.
"Wow, such a gentleman." She giggled and took her spot. They talked for over an hour about jobs, books, hobbies. Morgan laughed, spilling her water down the front of her dress.
"Drinking problem?" Drew snorted and handed her his napkin.
"Maybe. What's it to you?!" She jabbed and giggled again.
"It's a bad habit you know." Drew wiped water droplets from her chin and leaned in for a light peck.
"Who made you," she said leaning in for the kiss," the drinking police Buster?"
"We should get out of here." Drew smiled and slid his chair back.
"Best idea you've had all night!"
"I'm going to walk" Morgan said, as she walked out the door. Drew looked over at his car, smiled, hit the lock and took her arm. After a few minutes she could tell he wanted to tell her something.
"Well?" she stopped and turned to face him.
"My stomach feels all funny"
She smiled. Butterflies she thought.
"Good" she kissed him on the cheek and then darted off into the park. He hurriedly followed.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Morgan stood mouth agape at the unpainted building. Drew appeared at the car door and struggled to get it open.
"You chose this place?" She sighed.
"I thought you'd like it," he said as he slung open the rusty door, "it's one of my favorites."
"This is great. I've never had Thai before," she said, thinking about noodle shop near her house. "This should be interesting."
They scurried into the small restaurant and found a table at the back. The smells of spice and soy sauce wafted through the air. Drew took his seat and began reading the menu. He paused and looked up.
"You going to sit down?" He motioned her towards the chair.
"Wow, such a gentleman." She smirked and plopped down across the table.
The conversation was stiff. Drew slurped up his noodles horribly loud as Morgan downed another beer.
"Drinking problem?" Drew said, peering down at ten empty bottles lined up.
"Maybe. What's it to you?!" She slurred, rolling the empty bottle across the table.
"It's a bad habit you know." Drew caught the bottle and sat it back upright.
"Who made you," she burped incoherently," the drinking police Buster?"
"We should get out of here." Drew cringed and grabbed his coat. He headed towards the door.
"Best idea you've had all night!" Morgan called after him. She stumbled out of the door. Drew grabbed her arm to try and right her but she pulled away.
"I'm going to walk" She said, and headed towards the park. After a few paces she turned back to look at him.
"Well?" She said, crossing her arms. Drew looked at her and felt a rumble. He grasped his mid-section.
"My stomach feels all funny." He sprinted back towards the restaurant.
"Good" She dismissed him with a wave and walked off into the night. | |
[WP] Write the script and dialogue for two separate first date scenarios. One that goes well, and one that goes poorly. HOWEVER, they must both have the same exact dialogue in both stories. | The white hooded man swept into the room, his garb shifting loosely around him. "You are Irene?" he asked. The blonde haired women nodded apprehensively, "yes, but, ummm... you don't look quite how I expected". "Yes, well everyone lies on their profile pictures, for many different reasons" answered the man a slight sneer creeping onto his face. "Did you pick me just because of my picture?" He asked leaning forwards.
"Oh...ummm... no of course not " Irene stammered, she tried to stand but the man was on her in a flash, he drew a long serated cleaver from underneath his robe and held it firmly against her neck. "Don't lie to me" he hissed spittle flying from his mouth. " i know it's the picture that roped you in, you people are all the same, you are just after the pretty ones".
Irene had felt there was something wrong when he asked to meet in this secluded barn, but the deep brooding eyes, dark rippling abs and gorgeous smile in the profile pic had overridden any misgivings.
And now she was going to die, Irene screamed and struggled againts the man, but he held her tight, and slowly pulled the knife across her throat.
The cafe was full of life and bustle as Irene craned her head over the busy lunch crowds. There sitting in the corner was David.
David was more then a little nervous, he had said yes to Irene even though her picture was pretty bad, she looked at least 50 pounds overweight and seemed to care little about her appearance. On a dating profile, that was usually a bad sign. He could definatley do better but after a bad break up he had decided it was the personality that matters. All of the personal info for Irene had just resonated with him and their online conversations had gone like a dream.
David was startled from his musings, by a beautiful girl in a tight tank top and some well fitting jeans sitting down opposite him. "Are you Irene" David asked confused, " yes" she answered smiling and brushing her soft blonde hair from her face. "But, ummm... you don't look quite how I expected " he stammered blushing vigorously.
"Yes, well everyone lies on their profile pictures, for many different reasons" she answered smiling again, "Did you pick me just because of my picture?" She asked with a laugh. " oh...ummm....no of course not? David responded confused. Irene laughed again. "Don't lie to me" she said trying to keep a straight face, " i know it's the picture that roped you in, you people are all the same, you are just after the pretty ones".
David burst out laughing, funny with the right personality and great looks as a bonus, he couldn't believe his luck. | Morgan stood mouth agape at the downtown scene. Drew appeared at the car door and let her out into the night.
"You chose this place!" She turned and wrapped around his neck, kicking her feet behind her.
"I thought you'd like it," he smiled, "it's one of my favorites."
"This is great! I've never had Thai before. This should be interesting."
They scurried into the small restaurant and found a table at the back. The smells of spice and soy sauce wafted through the air. Morgan busily finished her make-up as she noticed Drew with his hand opened to a ready seat.
"You going to sit down?" He smiled again.
"Wow, such a gentleman." She giggled and took her spot. They talked for over an hour about jobs, books, hobbies. Morgan laughed, spilling her water down the front of her dress.
"Drinking problem?" Drew snorted and handed her his napkin.
"Maybe. What's it to you?!" She jabbed and giggled again.
"It's a bad habit you know." Drew wiped water droplets from her chin and leaned in for a light peck.
"Who made you," she said leaning in for the kiss," the drinking police Buster?"
"We should get out of here." Drew smiled and slid his chair back.
"Best idea you've had all night!"
"I'm going to walk" Morgan said, as she walked out the door. Drew looked over at his car, smiled, hit the lock and took her arm. After a few minutes she could tell he wanted to tell her something.
"Well?" she stopped and turned to face him.
"My stomach feels all funny"
She smiled. Butterflies she thought.
"Good" she kissed him on the cheek and then darted off into the park. He hurriedly followed.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Morgan stood mouth agape at the unpainted building. Drew appeared at the car door and struggled to get it open.
"You chose this place?" She sighed.
"I thought you'd like it," he said as he slung open the rusty door, "it's one of my favorites."
"This is great. I've never had Thai before," she said, thinking about noodle shop near her house. "This should be interesting."
They scurried into the small restaurant and found a table at the back. The smells of spice and soy sauce wafted through the air. Drew took his seat and began reading the menu. He paused and looked up.
"You going to sit down?" He motioned her towards the chair.
"Wow, such a gentleman." She smirked and plopped down across the table.
The conversation was stiff. Drew slurped up his noodles horribly loud as Morgan downed another beer.
"Drinking problem?" Drew said, peering down at ten empty bottles lined up.
"Maybe. What's it to you?!" She slurred, rolling the empty bottle across the table.
"It's a bad habit you know." Drew caught the bottle and sat it back upright.
"Who made you," she burped incoherently," the drinking police Buster?"
"We should get out of here." Drew cringed and grabbed his coat. He headed towards the door.
"Best idea you've had all night!" Morgan called after him. She stumbled out of the door. Drew grabbed her arm to try and right her but she pulled away.
"I'm going to walk" She said, and headed towards the park. After a few paces she turned back to look at him.
"Well?" She said, crossing her arms. Drew looked at her and felt a rumble. He grasped his mid-section.
"My stomach feels all funny." He sprinted back towards the restaurant.
"Good" She dismissed him with a wave and walked off into the night. | |
[WP] Write the script and dialogue for two separate first date scenarios. One that goes well, and one that goes poorly. HOWEVER, they must both have the same exact dialogue in both stories. | The white hooded man swept into the room, his garb shifting loosely around him. "You are Irene?" he asked. The blonde haired women nodded apprehensively, "yes, but, ummm... you don't look quite how I expected". "Yes, well everyone lies on their profile pictures, for many different reasons" answered the man a slight sneer creeping onto his face. "Did you pick me just because of my picture?" He asked leaning forwards.
"Oh...ummm... no of course not " Irene stammered, she tried to stand but the man was on her in a flash, he drew a long serated cleaver from underneath his robe and held it firmly against her neck. "Don't lie to me" he hissed spittle flying from his mouth. " i know it's the picture that roped you in, you people are all the same, you are just after the pretty ones".
Irene had felt there was something wrong when he asked to meet in this secluded barn, but the deep brooding eyes, dark rippling abs and gorgeous smile in the profile pic had overridden any misgivings.
And now she was going to die, Irene screamed and struggled againts the man, but he held her tight, and slowly pulled the knife across her throat.
The cafe was full of life and bustle as Irene craned her head over the busy lunch crowds. There sitting in the corner was David.
David was more then a little nervous, he had said yes to Irene even though her picture was pretty bad, she looked at least 50 pounds overweight and seemed to care little about her appearance. On a dating profile, that was usually a bad sign. He could definatley do better but after a bad break up he had decided it was the personality that matters. All of the personal info for Irene had just resonated with him and their online conversations had gone like a dream.
David was startled from his musings, by a beautiful girl in a tight tank top and some well fitting jeans sitting down opposite him. "Are you Irene" David asked confused, " yes" she answered smiling and brushing her soft blonde hair from her face. "But, ummm... you don't look quite how I expected " he stammered blushing vigorously.
"Yes, well everyone lies on their profile pictures, for many different reasons" she answered smiling again, "Did you pick me just because of my picture?" She asked with a laugh. " oh...ummm....no of course not? David responded confused. Irene laughed again. "Don't lie to me" she said trying to keep a straight face, " i know it's the picture that roped you in, you people are all the same, you are just after the pretty ones".
David burst out laughing, funny with the right personality and great looks as a bonus, he couldn't believe his luck. | “Here you are.” A neatly dressed waiter placed a pair of silver plates in front of the couple. He nodded graciously, pouring out two glasses of rich red wine. “Can I get you anything else?”
Carol smiled at the waiter, politely accepting the plate of shrimp scampi. “No, thank you,” she said, waving him away.
She stared across the white tablecloth at her blind date. What should she say? Did he want to talk while he was eating? She grabbed a plump shrimp out of the pasta and began to nibble on it, watching for her date’s next move.
Alan unrolled his silverware and stuffed a large wad of salad into his mouth. “Wow, this is delicious.”
Carol twirled some pasta around with her fork. These blind dates were always super awkward. Looking up, she noticed that Alan’s salad was filled with carrots, spinach, tomatoes…but no meat of any kind. Interesting.
“You don’t eat meat?” she asked quietly.
Alan swallowed his food, looking back at her with genuine curiosity. “What?” he asked.
Carol cleared her throat. “You don’t eat meat?” she asked, louder. “You’re a vegetarian.”
He nodded, smiling. “Vegan,” he said, taking another bite of salad. He cocked his head, leaning in. “Are you feeling okay?”
Carol laughed, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “Never better!” she said cheerily. Ugh, was it obvious?
...
Chris took a long sip of water. He was trying to avoid eye contact with the woman across the table, who, judging by the way she was staring, seemed to be searching him for signs of weakness. Sweating profusely, Chris put down the glass and began fiddling with his silverware. He guessed this served him right for dating online instead of going out and meeting people. Chris exhaled deeply. All he had to do was get through this one evening.
Daring to look up, he met Lucy’s unyielding stare. She definitely had looked a lot less intense online. He gave her a halfhearted smile. Should he say something? What had she said she liked to talk about?
Chris was saved by the arrival of the waiter. “Here you go,” the man said, placing a lavishly garnished steak in front of Chris. “Can I get you anything else?”
“No, thank you,” Chris said, giving the man a tiny salute. The waiter bowed and returned to the kitchen.
Chris rubbed his hands together, preparing to dig into his steak. Taking a small bite, he closed his eyes, letting the distinct flavors of spices and meat blend into a single heavenly mouthful. “Wow,” he breathed, “this is delicious.”
He glanced up at his date to notice Lucy’s stare had transformed into a gaping expression of shock. What was her deal? Chris looked over at her plate. Was there something wrong with her food?
“You don’t eat meat.” spat Lucy, looking disdainfully down at Chris’s slab of meat.
Chris put down his fork and knife. “What?”
Loudly grinding her chair on the floor, Lucy stood up. “You don’t eat meat!” she screamed down at him.
Chris winced, noticing his date had begun to attract some stares. “You’re, uh, a vegetarian?” he asked, trying to calm her down.
Lucy held up her salad bowl, displaying it to Chris. “Vegan,” she said icily. She released the bowl, letting it drop to the fake cobblestone floor and shatter into a million pieces.
Chris looked down in horror, then up at his date. “Are you feeling okay?”
Lucy squatted down, wrapping her arms around the table. She flipped it to one side, sending plates and glasses crashing to the floor. The customers around them gasped loudly.
“Never better.” said Lucy, stomping down on Chris’s steak with one high heel.
---
Wow, now I'm hungry. For more stories, that is! Check out /r/FlyingNarwhal. | |
[WP] Write the script and dialogue for two separate first date scenarios. One that goes well, and one that goes poorly. HOWEVER, they must both have the same exact dialogue in both stories. | The white hooded man swept into the room, his garb shifting loosely around him. "You are Irene?" he asked. The blonde haired women nodded apprehensively, "yes, but, ummm... you don't look quite how I expected". "Yes, well everyone lies on their profile pictures, for many different reasons" answered the man a slight sneer creeping onto his face. "Did you pick me just because of my picture?" He asked leaning forwards.
"Oh...ummm... no of course not " Irene stammered, she tried to stand but the man was on her in a flash, he drew a long serated cleaver from underneath his robe and held it firmly against her neck. "Don't lie to me" he hissed spittle flying from his mouth. " i know it's the picture that roped you in, you people are all the same, you are just after the pretty ones".
Irene had felt there was something wrong when he asked to meet in this secluded barn, but the deep brooding eyes, dark rippling abs and gorgeous smile in the profile pic had overridden any misgivings.
And now she was going to die, Irene screamed and struggled againts the man, but he held her tight, and slowly pulled the knife across her throat.
The cafe was full of life and bustle as Irene craned her head over the busy lunch crowds. There sitting in the corner was David.
David was more then a little nervous, he had said yes to Irene even though her picture was pretty bad, she looked at least 50 pounds overweight and seemed to care little about her appearance. On a dating profile, that was usually a bad sign. He could definatley do better but after a bad break up he had decided it was the personality that matters. All of the personal info for Irene had just resonated with him and their online conversations had gone like a dream.
David was startled from his musings, by a beautiful girl in a tight tank top and some well fitting jeans sitting down opposite him. "Are you Irene" David asked confused, " yes" she answered smiling and brushing her soft blonde hair from her face. "But, ummm... you don't look quite how I expected " he stammered blushing vigorously.
"Yes, well everyone lies on their profile pictures, for many different reasons" she answered smiling again, "Did you pick me just because of my picture?" She asked with a laugh. " oh...ummm....no of course not? David responded confused. Irene laughed again. "Don't lie to me" she said trying to keep a straight face, " i know it's the picture that roped you in, you people are all the same, you are just after the pretty ones".
David burst out laughing, funny with the right personality and great looks as a bonus, he couldn't believe his luck. | "Hey Sarah, you look - just WOW!" Christian said grinning as he pulled a chair out for his stunning date. Her tight red dressed hugged her hourglass frame.
"Thanks so much!" Sarah replied beaming. She sat down opposite him. "Shall we get some drinks?"
Christian struggled to look away from Sarah, but eventually snuck a glance towards a waiter.
A tall man in a navy suit came over. He looked at Sarah and then gave Christian a knowing nod.
"Uh.. can we get some drinks." enquired Christian.
"Certainly sir... May I recommend the house cocktail - they are **very** strong." he gave Christian a sly wink.
"Sounds ideal!" Christian said, a little too quickly.
"Coming up sir."
The waiter was soon back with two drinks. He handed Sarah one, and leaned across to pass Christian the other. Christian, still all eyes on Sarah clumsily grabbed at the his drink, unintentionally knocking it over his lap.
"Damn!" he said loudly. "I am going to have to clean this up in the bathroom. I'm so sorry, I will be right back." he said.
"I'l be waiting! Maybe I can help you with your trousers later." Sarah said winking.
---
"Hey Sarah, you look - just WOW!" Christian said shocked. She wasn't like her picture at all. The dress was clearly 4 sizes too small for her, her hair was a greasy soup and she had a cigarette in her mouth. She tossed it to the ground.
"Thanks *so* much!" Sarah replied sarcastically. She really didn't care what he thought. She was just here for the free meal. She sat down opposite him. "Shall we get some drinks?"
Christian struggled to look away from train wreck that was Sarah, but eventually snuck a glance towards a waiter.
A tall man in a navy suit came over. He couldn't help staring at Sarah.
"Uh.. can we get some drinks." enquired a desperate Christian.
"Certainly sir... May I recommend the house cocktail - they are **very** strong." he gave Christian a sly wink.
"Sounds ideal!" Christian said, a little too quickly.
"Coming up sir."
The waiter was soon back with two drinks. He handed Sarah one, and leaned across to pass Christian the other. Christian, pretending to be clumsy snatched at his cocktail, 'unintentionally' knocking it over his lap.
"Damn!" he said loudly. "I am going to have to clean this up in the bathroom. I'm so sorry, I will be right back." he lied.
"I'l be waiting! Maybe I can help you with your trousers later." Sarah said winking. | |
[WP] Write the script and dialogue for two separate first date scenarios. One that goes well, and one that goes poorly. HOWEVER, they must both have the same exact dialogue in both stories. | "Travelled far this evening?" Steve pulled out Helen's chair and waited until she dropped into it gracefully. She adjusted her blonde hair over her shoulder and grinned at him across the table.
"You know I haven't," she replied. Her gaze dropped to the tablecloth as she shyly returned his smile.
"Would you like champagne?" Steve manfully showed her the bottle, twisting it in the glistening ice bucket.
"What a fantastic choice. Moet really makes an occasion, doesn't it?" Helen leaned forward, enthralled, as Steve popped the cork and poured it, golden and fizzing, into her tall glass.
"To a wonderful first date," Steve said, holding the glass aloft. "I can't tell you how long I've been planning this."
"I won't lift my drink," Helen said. Steve looked at her quizzically and she returned by lifting her hand. Her wrist was in a solid white cast.
"That'll make dinner difficult!" Steve sighed. "Do you want me to cut everything for you? That's the only way I can see it being easier."
"Please don't," Helen said. "I'll do it."
"Well, what do you want me to do?" Steve said.
"Nothing," Helen replied. "Please, sit down. Have some champagne."
"I can't believe we've been neighbours all this time and this is the first time we've done this," Steve said happily.
----------------
"Travelled far this evening?" Steve grinned at the woman tied to the chair on the other side of the table.
"You know I haven't," she replied through gritted teeth. Struggling against her bonds, her date watched her impassively.
"Would you like champagne?" Steve dropped two pills into the tall glass and began pouring liquid over them. They dissolved into nothingness.
"What a fantastic choice. Moet really makes an occasion, doesn't it?" Helen's voice was ragged, her tone sarcastic.
"To a wonderful first date," Steve said, holding the glass aloft. "I can't tell you how long I've been planning this."
"I won't lift my drink," Helen promised.
"That'll make dinner difficult!" Steve sighed. "Do you want me to cut everything for you? That's the only way I can see it being easier." He lifted the carving knife at his side and advanced towards the woman. She shrank back in her seat, shaking her head.
"Please don't," Helen pleased. "I'll do it."
"Well, what do you want me to do?" Steve asked.
"Nothing," Helen replied. "Please, sit down. Have some champagne."
"I can't believe we've been neighbours all this time and this is the first time we've done this," Steve said happily. He pulled Helen's head back by the hair and began to pour the champagne into her open mouth.
| “Oh, God.”
She was beautiful, but the restaurant I’d chosen was clearly garbage. I never should have trusted just one review on Yelp.
I sat down in the chair at our table, trying to ignore the layers of caked-on rust near the legs. She was staring at her phone, her nose crinkled. Perhaps it was pre-emptive disgust.
“Hi. I’m, uh, I’m John.”
She looked up. I could see Instagram photos reflected in her glasses.
“Nice to meet you,” she said with clear disdain.
“Shall, we, uh…shall we place our orders?”
“Nah, let’s just bask in the ambience.” I can handle some sarcasm, but not when it’s positively dripping from my date’s lips. She glared at me, then returned to her phone.
A few minutes passed. I nervously sipped my water, which tasted astoundingly terrible and make me dread the thought of an actual entrée.
“You know what? Maybe this isn’t the best place,” I offered.
She sighed. “I’m just gonna find a coffee shop.”
She pushed in her chair, which squeaked obnoxiously, and left through the front door.
I stared at the menu. McDonald’s was sounding pretty good. I left a tip on the table, thanking them for putting up with us, and sprinted for the exit.
***
“Oh, God.”
She was beautiful. The restaurant didn’t look all that appealing, to be honest, but I didn’t care. I was hypnotized.
I sat down in the chair across from her. There was a little bit of rust near the legs but I chose to ignore it.
“Hi. I’m, uh, I’m John.”
She looked up from her phone and smiled, clicking the screen off and placing the virtual world in her pocket.
“Nice to meet you,” she said, leaning her cheek on her hand.
“Shall, we, uh…shall we place our orders?”
“Nah, let’s just bask in the ambience.” She laughed as she said it and gestured all around her to the tasteless décor. I laughed as well, scanning the menu.
We both caught glances at each other and seemed to find everything mutually unappealing.
“You know what? Maybe this isn’t the best place,” I said.
She chuckled. “I’m just gonna find a coffee shop.”
She pulled out her phone and opened up Google Maps, showing me the options as she scrolled through them. I was going to apologize for making a terrible choice, but didn’t feel the need to.
We got up from our chairs, left a tip, and headed for the exit, strolling side by side.
We arrived at the coffee shop at 1 PM and didn’t leave until it closed at 6. Thank God for that awful restaurant.
| |
[WP] The only currency in the world is fire. No money, no valuable objects, just fire. You are inside a bank that is being robbed. | Outside a blizzard raged violently, as it always did.
The tall man in the seat next to me was shaking in his boots.
"Are you alright?" I asked him.
"N-no, I think I'm sick. My skin is bleeding water." replied the man nervously.
I smiled to him. "Never been to the bank before?" I prompted.
"Can't s-say that I have. No banks in my town." the man stuttered. "Had to travel quite a bit."
"Well, your skin starts bleeding water when you become too hot." I informed him. "It's called sweating."
"T-too hot? Well, there's a problem I didn't think I would ever have." said the man. "Sure is warm in here though."
"Comfy." I replied. "The warmth of financial security." I added with a smile.
The tall man laughed to himself. "All over the world people freeze in their homes. The only warmth they will ever feel is the one shortly before dying." he sighed. "And here I am. *Sweating*."
He sat back in his chair and looked up at the large fiery brazier that hung from the ceiling, proudly on display, a display of wealth.
"I wish my wife coul-- No, I should've brought my kids." he remarked.
"You can bring them along next time." I said.
"It's alright," said the man "they'll be warm soon enough."
"Number 47" called the teller. "47."
I checked my ticket as did the man next to me. "I'm up." he said "Goodbye friend, keep your feet."
"And you, my friend." I replied. The man walked off and I rolled the words over in my mind.
"Keep your feet." I quietly repeated to myself with a smile. Such a country-folk thing to say.
A loud shriek pierced trough the warm comfort of the hall, the teller was crying - and the tall man was shouting.
| - Part 1 -
A cold shiver ran down Jonah's neck; the only part of his body exposed to the frigid, cold air apart from his head. The young man was already wearing four layers, including his favourite imperial blue winter jacket - a shade akin to an early night sky. However, the biting chill was enough for him to regret not wearing a warmer overcoat. He was indoors; Amaranth Holdings, a relatively modest Ember Vault located just outside Century Plaza - his district's retail precinct. Surrounding Jonah was the usual midday crowd, a humble caucus of workers from the local commerce district, going about their transactions in a wearily docile manner, all draped in darker toned clothing. Jonah examined the people around him, he then closed his eyes and reflected for a moment.
The Great Reckoning is now nothing but a distant memory, although to Jonah it would seem as if the catastrophic events of the past still shackle and haunt people to this very day. The Novaterra Alliance, the governing body that presides over the former European Union mandated that all colours past a certain luminescence rating are strictly prohibited. Jonah was only a child but he vividly remembers his fifth year educator explaining, "The Alliance created the Sub-radiance Concordat to remind us all of the terrible tragedies of generations past so that we may never again repeat them," though his educator added, "that's what they pay me to say anyway." Jonah mulled it over and considered that perhaps it was Educator Lieberman who had instilled in him his sense of cynicism, still, Jonah stowed away his reverie and viewed the patrons of Amaranth Holdings and contemplated the irony of the concordat and how the acts of the Alliance hold the masses in a perpetual state of mourning. He then let go of such thoughts in favour of basking in the warm glow of the central flame as he stood in line.
Jonah hadn't eaten all morning; the grumbling in his stomach further exacerbated by the unrelentingly cold conditions brought about this particularly harsh winter, of course winter is present year-round yet, this period of "Iver's peak" has proven to be rather severe. As the line, which he had been queued in trudged along, he mused to himself, "When did I get so lucky" -but that thought was quickly dashed as a wave of frost-filled air gently struck his neck as another enervated patron walked in. Jonah glanced at the person who had just entered, he noticed that the cold was visible on the elderly woman's face, as many speckles of frost clung to her frail, winter-pale skin.
"At least she has the warmth of the embers now." Jonah thought to himself as he moved his sight to the centre of the Ember Vault building. He gazed at the unassuming magnificence of the central flame encased in pyropanel and delighted as he watched the gleaming dance of the flame as the wood burned and crackled beneath the fire. Jonah was captivated, and thought to himself, "I truly am lucky."
The line moved along and Jonah forced himself to snap out of his momentary trance as he shuffled along the queue. His eyes wandered around observing the other patrons: A woman with dark brown hair in the adjacent queue holding her young daughter's hand as they quietly talked and meekly laughed at each other's playful faces. As the mother turned and leaned forward to fix her daughters hair, Jonah noticed her face; it was a simple face, yet a certain attractiveness about her held his attention. He found himself admiring the dainty freckles that adorned her nose and cheeks, and her smile, "Something about her smile." Jonah considered. If he had the ability to muster an inclination for romance, he would certainly regard her smile as "charming."
Shifting focus, Jonah turned his vision towards a taller man of what looks to be an average build with greying hair, positioned further ahead of the amiable mother and daughter in the same queue. This man was wearing a charcoal grey tweed jacket and a somewhat conspicuous silver curb chain necklace which he kept tucked underneath his clothing. The pendant is not visible but the protruding outline it made was quite obvious for ones with a keen eye. The man became aware of Jonah, and nodded at him. Jonah artlessly nodded back.
Jonah glanced at the numerous clocks behind the secured counter; he singled out the appropriate one and saw that it was almost one o'clock. His line moved forward and he trailed along with it, "Not long now," he silently said to himself.
Four Vault personnel were diligently working behind the counter; each transaction station is triple-reinforced with alumina glass designed to withstand massive impact. Pyrros vials are delivered to clients by sliding a ciphered container through a two-way lockable titanium compartment. Jonah recognised a familiar necklace on one of the female personnel, he also observed a small peculiar scar behind the left ear of the operating manager.
The line had progressed quicker than Jonah had anticipated, he was now in front of the queue. He examined the local clock again, he waited six more seconds, it was now precisely one o'clock.
The fresh-faced employee working behind transaction station "3" felt a hand on his shoulder; "It's your meal break son," congenially reminded the operating manager, he then switched with the junior employee and looked over at the young man wearing an imperial blue winter jacket that was next in line.
"Welcome to Amaranth Holdings sir, how may I assist with your dealings today?" the manager asked.
Jonah looked at the manager square in the eyes, "They're coming." | |
[WP] "I'm your God now." | I
Who am I? I am. You are you. Who says so? I do. Who am I? I am.
I am here and you are there. I will inevitably take you to me, and you will never return.
They will say, "The others are no good. They are evil." They will condemn them. It is in fact they who condemn themselves. Unless they are utterly destroyed, they will inevitably cause themselves to perish.
I have seen them. I saw what they did. So I took them out of the picture. And they were no more.
He who wants her only wants her for himself. He who doesn't want her pushes himself away. Therefore, he removes himself only to find himself alone.
You will be strong and you will fight the good fight; but you will perish, as day becomes night, and night becomes day, inevitably.
Man will say he thinks and feels; but when he is no longer there to think or feel, what will he do?
I have been a watcher on the hill. I watch as summer becomes fall, and months become years, and waking becomes sleep, and life becomes death. I watch it all.
Time is my play-toy. It exists for my amusement. If I was not, then what would time become?
I live on earth, and I die on earth. However, I will live on through you, and you will say "Why me?" And so the cycle continues, inevitably.
Where were you when I was the only one there? Where was I when you were the only one there? Where was I when I was not?
I am not you. We are not them. They are not us. Even so, when asked, each one of us will say "I exist, as do you. We both exist, as do they."
If I were to ask Jeremiah who he was, he would say "I am Jeremiah". If I were to ask Jeremiah who Jeremiah is, he would say "I am".
If Jeremiah asked me who I was, I would say "I am". Just as Jeremiah would. Therefore, who is Jeremiah and I? I am
I say "I am". You say "you are". He says "he is". They say "they are". In reality, all will say, "I am".
If you don't see a point in this. Then forget about this. In fact, forget about you as well.
Forget about memory. Memory leaves with you. And you, inevitably, will leave. Of this, you can be sure. You forget, and memory forgets you.
Together, you and this body work to perform your tasks. Leave the body to its work. It can take care of itself. You do your own work, and you can take care of yourself.
There is no other that can do your work for you. I can point the way. But it is you who would follow it, that you may see for yourself.
In seeing, you utter "I see". But take away the seeing. What is left?
I am all there is and all that will ever be. You are but an illusion. As are they.
You will argue and say, "I am not an illusion". I would agree, for I am not an illusion either. But as for you, I have never seen such a more brilliant mirage.
Persistent you are in proving your existence. In reality, all you utter is "I". If you are I, then tell me, who am I?
I am your very sight. I am your very vision. I give you the seeing you need to see what you see. You may disagree, but you will still say "I see".
You will say many things. In reality, you will say nothing at all. I am the only one who speaks. If this isn't so, then tell me, who is speaking?
You will hear my words. But indeed, you have heard nothing at all. It is I who have heard.
I am all there is. If words be spoken, I will speak them. If the words will be heard, then I will hear them.
A Father was speaking to his Son, but his Son ignored him. The Father said, "Son, I am speaking to you." The Son replied, "I hear you just fine." In reality, I was the one who was speaking. I was also the one who heard. I was the ignor-er and the ignored. The acknowledged and the unacknowledged. I was the speaker and the listener.
You will say, "It was the Father and the Son that did these things." I would have you know, the Father said, "I am speaking" and the Son said, "I hear you." Who are you to argue with them?
All beings say "I". What do you say?
If you say something, you are not the one you speaks it. I am the one who speaks. I am the one who hears.
You are not. I am.
They will point their fingers and say, "Look at him." In reality, I was the one who pointed. I was the one who was pointed at as well. If you will not hear me, then ask the man who pointed, "Who was it that pointed at that man?" He will say, "It was I." If you are still unconvinced, ask the man who had the finger pointed to him, "Who was the man that was pointed at?" He will say, "It was I."
Are you beginning to see? No, you are not. I am the one who sees.
"How will I speak to another if I am the only one there?", they will say. I say, if you would speak to another, who would it be? What would they say if you asked them?
I printed the words of this book, just as I am now reading the words of this book. Why am I printing words that only I will read? I print these words so that you may come to know yourself.
If you are still reading, keep going. Read again and again until you are not there to read. That way, I will be all that is left. In reality, I am all that is.
So tell me, Who am I?
"And God said unto Moses, I Am That I Am: and he said, Thus shalt you say unto the children of Israel, I Am hath sent me unto you."
Exodus 3:14 KJV | Katie sat in a dark, windowless room, restrained at the hands and feet, ballgag in mouth, clothes ripped to shreds. Her captor, a man in a gimp mask, bald and overweight. In his visible life, he taught primary at a prestigious private school. Privately, he tortured young women for his pleasure. He was sweating, ready to start the physical torture, as well as the mental he had already inflicted.
"Darling, darling. Don't you know not to trust strangers? You're old enough to know, for sure. Now, lets begin.".
Katie prayed to everything and everyone that ever existed for deliverance.
"Foolish girl...I'm your God now."
As he moved in for the kill, her hands flared red. The ropes melted in an instant, the ballgag flying across the room of it's own accord. Katie laughed, an unearthly sound of a hundred worlds. She'd killed greater threats in her *sleep*, for fuck's sake. She should... but no. Give him a return for the pain he inflicted on others.
In an instant, he was tied up in the chair, with iron chains, red hot.
"Foolish man...**I'm** your God now." | |
[WP] "I'm your God now." | I
Who am I? I am. You are you. Who says so? I do. Who am I? I am.
I am here and you are there. I will inevitably take you to me, and you will never return.
They will say, "The others are no good. They are evil." They will condemn them. It is in fact they who condemn themselves. Unless they are utterly destroyed, they will inevitably cause themselves to perish.
I have seen them. I saw what they did. So I took them out of the picture. And they were no more.
He who wants her only wants her for himself. He who doesn't want her pushes himself away. Therefore, he removes himself only to find himself alone.
You will be strong and you will fight the good fight; but you will perish, as day becomes night, and night becomes day, inevitably.
Man will say he thinks and feels; but when he is no longer there to think or feel, what will he do?
I have been a watcher on the hill. I watch as summer becomes fall, and months become years, and waking becomes sleep, and life becomes death. I watch it all.
Time is my play-toy. It exists for my amusement. If I was not, then what would time become?
I live on earth, and I die on earth. However, I will live on through you, and you will say "Why me?" And so the cycle continues, inevitably.
Where were you when I was the only one there? Where was I when you were the only one there? Where was I when I was not?
I am not you. We are not them. They are not us. Even so, when asked, each one of us will say "I exist, as do you. We both exist, as do they."
If I were to ask Jeremiah who he was, he would say "I am Jeremiah". If I were to ask Jeremiah who Jeremiah is, he would say "I am".
If Jeremiah asked me who I was, I would say "I am". Just as Jeremiah would. Therefore, who is Jeremiah and I? I am
I say "I am". You say "you are". He says "he is". They say "they are". In reality, all will say, "I am".
If you don't see a point in this. Then forget about this. In fact, forget about you as well.
Forget about memory. Memory leaves with you. And you, inevitably, will leave. Of this, you can be sure. You forget, and memory forgets you.
Together, you and this body work to perform your tasks. Leave the body to its work. It can take care of itself. You do your own work, and you can take care of yourself.
There is no other that can do your work for you. I can point the way. But it is you who would follow it, that you may see for yourself.
In seeing, you utter "I see". But take away the seeing. What is left?
I am all there is and all that will ever be. You are but an illusion. As are they.
You will argue and say, "I am not an illusion". I would agree, for I am not an illusion either. But as for you, I have never seen such a more brilliant mirage.
Persistent you are in proving your existence. In reality, all you utter is "I". If you are I, then tell me, who am I?
I am your very sight. I am your very vision. I give you the seeing you need to see what you see. You may disagree, but you will still say "I see".
You will say many things. In reality, you will say nothing at all. I am the only one who speaks. If this isn't so, then tell me, who is speaking?
You will hear my words. But indeed, you have heard nothing at all. It is I who have heard.
I am all there is. If words be spoken, I will speak them. If the words will be heard, then I will hear them.
A Father was speaking to his Son, but his Son ignored him. The Father said, "Son, I am speaking to you." The Son replied, "I hear you just fine." In reality, I was the one who was speaking. I was also the one who heard. I was the ignor-er and the ignored. The acknowledged and the unacknowledged. I was the speaker and the listener.
You will say, "It was the Father and the Son that did these things." I would have you know, the Father said, "I am speaking" and the Son said, "I hear you." Who are you to argue with them?
All beings say "I". What do you say?
If you say something, you are not the one you speaks it. I am the one who speaks. I am the one who hears.
You are not. I am.
They will point their fingers and say, "Look at him." In reality, I was the one who pointed. I was the one who was pointed at as well. If you will not hear me, then ask the man who pointed, "Who was it that pointed at that man?" He will say, "It was I." If you are still unconvinced, ask the man who had the finger pointed to him, "Who was the man that was pointed at?" He will say, "It was I."
Are you beginning to see? No, you are not. I am the one who sees.
"How will I speak to another if I am the only one there?", they will say. I say, if you would speak to another, who would it be? What would they say if you asked them?
I printed the words of this book, just as I am now reading the words of this book. Why am I printing words that only I will read? I print these words so that you may come to know yourself.
If you are still reading, keep going. Read again and again until you are not there to read. That way, I will be all that is left. In reality, I am all that is.
So tell me, Who am I?
"And God said unto Moses, I Am That I Am: and he said, Thus shalt you say unto the children of Israel, I Am hath sent me unto you."
Exodus 3:14 KJV | Serain slowly awakened. He heard the sound of metal on metal as he moved, felt the aching of his body. The sound of chains alerted the guards as he struggled to consciousness. He soon realized he was forced into a standing position, his arms sore from being chained to the wall the entire night.
The guards at the door parted and in strode Celaros, the Mad Lord of Caer Rhith, in resplendent robes of gaudy colors. "Welcome to my abode, young sir," he said, staring at the prisoner with eyes a touch too wide, speaking in a high tenor.
Serain spat on the floor.
"Now now, that's no way to treat your host, especially after he took the trouble to set up this room, after you showed up, *uninvited*," said Celaros, injecting malice into the last word.
"Why have you not killed me?" Serain rasped.
"Kill you? Before I've had my fun? Now that *would* be a shame," he said, and then added with a giggle, "I will *break* you."
"You will not break me. I will die first."
"Oh?" Celaros asked, in a tone pretending interest, "What makes you say that?"
"My God protects me," Serain claimed, with more confidence than he actually felt.
Celaros laughed hysterically, "Oh, you poor dear. You don't seem to realize."
He swept forward across the dungeon cell, and grasped Serain's chin with one hand, forcing their eyes to meet.
"**I'm your God now**," the Mad Lord hissed.
***
Cliché, I know, but I had fun writing it. | |
[WP] Necromancers double as world leading CSI's. Describe an average day for one of them. | The familiar rumble of the 530 AM train gets me up better than any alarm clock. By the time the reverberations finished I'm checking my Nightly Report via tel-K with the Oracle at the office.
Morgane finishes with the total count "6 have been found dead with 3 teams still responding, you are requested to report to Quadrant 4 Precint. Please respond with a telekenetic confirmation with your name, Robert Proteus"
My fucking luck that I would be going to Commissioner Langdon's precint, his distaste of Blue Necros is almost as large as his damn gut. But he'd be hard pressed to find another Necro that would work for the PDs shit slide scale wages.
Finishing the InstaCafe© and sliding through the doors into the hyperloop, the soft hiss sounds and the world outside becomes a blur. Sitting on the Loop I can see the tendrils of blue-gray Ectoplasm still floating through the air in some places outside. It tends to linger after a murder for a couple weeks before dispersing, when its a real fresh one though that's where I come in.
After some ritual unplrasantries with Commissioner Beergut, I got into the patrol car with a Karl, the resident chauffeur for Blue Necros.
"So which one are we stopping at first" I said
The newer officer in the high necked blue coat with black buttons going from the neck down to about the waist with his shock-wand strapped to under his left arm. Turned to me from the passenger seat with a questioning look. "We ain't going to one first, there all at one place Sarge"
I frowned at that "What was the report like, I only get numbers from Oracle"
"Youd best just see it first Sarge, Callahan is saying the Black Widow is responsible. But there was a Black Necro there for sure last night." I can see a shiver run through his body as he says that. Which is an understandable almost animalistic reaction to actually acknowledging that Black Necros exist.
A Black Necro is the antithesis of what I am, not morally in regards to most things (as my ex wife can attest) but one thing in particular. Flesh. They like to specialize in reanimation and control of the flesh, hence the Black dark connotation shit.
Blue Necros tend to be observers, we refuse to have any influence with reanimation or control. Our skill set is more of a tracker and analytical side, when a person dies they may drop and slump like a rag doll. But that soul they got in them, or whatever you want to call it, will hover and hang around for at least a couple hours. The real pissed ones stay for a few days. Helps with solving murders like a Christmas miracle.
As we are driving up one of the hills I settle back and wait for the patrolman to wake me when we get to the scene. Sliding my blacked out sunglasses down to get my eyes rested for the analysis. Hades, I hate Mondays.
| Ever since the United States Government started hiring Delaware and Denver Necromancers as new CSI members, murder rates have gone down rapidly as they would simply raise the dead and ask them who killed them. Paladins around the world are conflicted on how to deal with this. On one hand, murder has gone down, but necromancy stems from a desire to be evil. Riots in the Austria have risen due to Paladins taking the reigns into their own hands and smiting the necromancers, and the UN will meet tonight to discuss the greater good and the role of necromancers in our modern world.
Necromancery has begun to be offered in Switzerland and French Universities, causing controversy amongst mothers whose children will be going to these same Universities to be a Paladin. A segregation has been proposed by members of the UN to keep Paladins from smiting necromancers in the classrooms. | |
[WP] Yesterday, a man was murdered at an unknown time. Your only witness to the crime is a man who only speaks in rhyme. | The officer sat at his desk, opened the word processor and began to file his report on the murder.
"The deceased was discovered at 4:35pm on Monday, July 11th 2016, killed by a blunt force trauma to the head. He was identified as one Mr Kevin Dee.
On arrival at the scene a man came forward as the only witness and accompanied me to the station to give his statement, which I include below:
'A tragedy has occurred this day, a life has been taken away. I shall tell you what happened as best as I can, to help you arrest the killer of this man.
He stood as a statue on the corner of 1st, drinking a soda to quench a large thirst. From behind him I saw a man hooded and white, approaching as if on tiptoes, his footsteps so light.
Our victim, he faced him, and words were exchanged, increasing in anger, until somewhat deranged, the hooded man picked up a long pipe, and ended the life of this man in one swipe.
He fell to the ground, landing with a thud. The rain poured on the body, stained it with mud. The hooded man stared, with rage in his eyes, at the body he'd beaten for telling him lies.
Our dead man, you see, hadn't been strictly true. As they argued I heard a name shouted - Sue. The girlfriend, it seems, of the man in the hood, had been sleeping around getting up to no good. With motive in place, the hooded man swang, and struck the other's head with a clang.
I watched this unfold with a horrified look. The hooded man saw me and his whole body shook. I feared I was to be death number two, that he'd kill any witness, any who knew.
Instead he just threw the pipe from his hand, onto the floor where the body did stand. This was the last I saw of the man. He turned away from me - and ran.'
We have recovered the pipe as evidence. The witness did not give his name." | "Ok sir, I'm sure you know why we brought you in for questioning today."
"Yes of course I know. I may be old, but I'm not slow."
"So what did you see sir, you were our only witness."
"Well, needless to say it was not pretty. It was a brisk evening, I was taking a walk through the city. Oh the colors of an autumn sky, so vibrant, warm, a sea of red with orange dye. And the leaves, oh the leaves as they fell with grace, I could not imagine a more beautiful place. And the girl, what a beauty! Her hair blew with the breeze if there were a moment that which I could freeze that would be the one because when I saw her smile, boy I was done. That's when I saw it, right by the fountain covered in bird shit. I walked up to further inspect what did that water truly reflect? I saw myself for what I truly am, a puppet much like my good friend Sam. Are you listening Officer do you know what I mean, would you ever eat a ham colored green? I am trapped, forced to speak in rhyme, a prisoner of words and this is my time. I'm taking off this hat, don't ever call me cat, and yes I killed that woman, with a lead pipe." | |
[WP]"My name is Legion, for I am many" he said calmly. "Hi Legion. Welcome to the group" replied the doctor. "Take a seat. There's coffee and some cookies on the pink table." | "My name is Legion, for I am many," he said, calmly.
"Hi Legion. Welcome to the group," replied The Doctor. "Take a seat. There's coffee and some cookies on the pink table."
"I do not eat," Legion announced. "I do not drink."
"Well what's the point?" The Doctor said, rushing around the central command console, pulling levers and pushing buttons.
"What is the point of what?" asked Legion.
"It! Everything! You know, life!" The Doctor said.
"Doctor?" Donna asked, "You are aware that the... umm... Legion... he's a Cyberman, aren't you?"
"Oh no. No no no no no," The Doctor corrected her, "Legion isn't just *A* Cyberman, he is a living database for ALL Cybermen! Do you know what that means? Anyone?"
The Doctor looked around at the others gathered inside his TARDIS. Micky looked confused. Rose looked deep in thought. Donna looked completely baffled. Captain Jack Harkness was fixated on Legion's groin, likely trying to deduce whether or not Cybermen are fully-functional. Only Martha seemed to get it.
"We don't have to negotiate with the army of Cybermen outside," she said quietly. "We just have to reason with him. With Legion."
"Bingo! Bravo! Give the girl a prize!" The Doctor said, applauding.
"Doctor, do you think," Jack began.
"No, and I never will," The Doctor interrupted, already seeing the smirk on Captain Jack's lips.
"Now then, Legion. Good name. Leee-jun. Rolls off the tongue," The Doctor said, then turned to Jack, "NOT like that," he pointed, and returned to face Legion, "You have a multitude of Cyber-commands inside you. You are a Cyber-host, you are many, as you said, and we are few, but we are mighty. Tell me, Legion, do you know who I am?"
"You are the Doctor," Legion said, his calm, cybernetic voice unwavering. "You are an enemy of the Cybermen. You will be deleted."
"Aha!" The Doctor snapped his fingers. "So, let me show you something."
The Doctor pulled one last lever, and the TARDIS whirred, due to a malfunctioning parking break, and spun into the far future. Once they arrived, The Doctor took a cookie from the pink table, and bit into it, while ushering Legion toward the door.
"Take a scan outside. What do your sensors see?" he asked.
"Nothing," Legion replied.
"Right! Nothing. Nada. Nothing at all. Not. A. Thing. No life. No Doctor! Don't you see, you've won!" The Doctor said, enthusiastically.
"But, you are still here," Legion replied.
"I'm only here, because I'm next to you. I'm in the TARDIS with you, but I'm not out there. Out there, there's nothing. This is the end of time. No you. No me. No anything. All you have to do is be patient, and everything will come to an end on its own. No need to delete people. They usually delete themselves after a century or so." The Doctor argued.
Legion was quiet for a long while before speaking.
"I will hibernate. When you are gone, I will return," he said.
"Yes, splendid. Have a nap," The Doctor said, returning to the console, and placing the TARDIS back among the Cyber-Army he had just escaped from.
Legion entered low-power mode, and hunched over.
The Doctor approached the door.
"No! You bloody twit! What are you doing? There are Cybermen out there!" Donna shouted.
"I know," said The Doctor, opening the door.
They were all hunched over. Thousands of Cybermen Soldiers, all in low-power mode.
"They were all routed through that one, Legion," Rose said, smiling. "Clever boy!"
"So, you put one to sleep, and you put them all to sleep?" Mickey asked.
"Exactly!" The Doctor exclaimed. "Now, to figure out what to do with them for a few millennia..."
Captain Jack raised a hand.
"I could always," he began.
"No, you couldn't!" The Doctor said.
Donna, Martha, and Rose all burst into laughter. | Of all the coffee tables in the entire world, ours had to be pink.
In the end, that was the death of us all.
"My name is Legion, for I am many," he said calmly.
"Good afternoon Legion, welcome to the group," replied Doctor. "Take a seat, there's coffee and some cookies on the pink table."
Legion's gaze rotated past staring into Doctor's soul and looked over at the custom furniture piece we picked up on Lunar One.
It wasn't often you kept furniture on a spacecraft, especially furniture that wasn't bolted to the ship, and that could splinter off into shards of death at critical moments.
That's why we, the valiant crew of the USSI Dr. OS. Hitte, bought it as our mascot. If a pirate vessel could afford furniture and it wasn't destroyed after months of destroying government property when most of that property fired back, then we were that good.
There were four of us. Doctor, our misogynist weapons specialist. The man earned the I of our ship. In this government mandated wasteland, everything is initialed.
'I' stood for Interstellar-ballistic. Doc gets off on the idea that somewhere women are crying and screaming at every shooting star they see.
Because it could be his latest work, ready for a personal demonstration.
OSHA was our jailbroken Virtual Intelligence we boosted up to AI status by feeding her with every processor we could physically cut out of government ships. She is brilliant. She thinks in spheres. Every one of our orbits is speed boosting, every battle is a beautiful ballet of motion and death floating an arm's reach away harmlessly into the void.
She was also functionally a teenager.
The last time she 'rebelled,' we went from an Earth Orbital Amazon Double Prime delivery service to Intergalactic space pirates.
I'm told most of North America will recover. Its not like fallen satellites give off any radiation.
There's me. I'm the negotiator of the group. I've been manipulating your species for decades. Yes I know what you are human. You aren't that hard to figure out. You are all so pretentious, yet you're all the same. No matter how intelligent, persevering, stubborn you think you are, I'll have you eating out of my proverbial hands five minutes into any negotiation. My name is Hitte.
I'm a Border Collie.
Then there was Legion. It was my idea to hire some muscle in case we were boarded, or even to board someone else, if they were stupid.
You humans are stupider than you think.
Between the three of us, we've been teaching humans how to play dead *really well* for three years.
Legion was our first mistake.
"The coffee table-" began Legion.
"Was built in 2064 by Martian Nationalists wanting to express their love of independence and appreciation of biologically occuring materials, this wooden table embodies pride, elegance, and objectively, punk," finished OSHA
"is an abomination," concluded Legion.
"It is **not**, stated OSHA.
"I have seen three hundred, forty six thousand, two hundred and forty two examples of the same model," Legion coughed, which was pretentious as fuck for an cyborg.
I wondered how long he could fetch in space.
Legion continued on "Scams like these are the worst form of government mandated capitalistic policies. Even art, or something of *supposed* museum quality could be over produced into irrelevancy."
Doc piped up, "you can't have seen something that many times."
Legion nodded, still looking at the table, "I am Legion. We are many."
He finally turned to look Doc in the eyes, "We have had this conversation, or variations of it, over ten million iterations."
Doc scoffed, "I've never met you."
Legion nodded, "You humans are a collection of data in a way we never could be. Whether you admit it or not, what you consider a soul, or free will, is merely your statistically predictable decision making process. While we never have met in this reality, I have carried out this conversation with all of you for millions of times before I attempted it in person."
He looked up at the speaker/receiver OSHA spoke out of, "You can't imagine you are the only accelerated VI. I have a processing capacity greater than most countries. You destroyed part of that."
Not a lick of menace in his voice. Especially if you were stupid and missed all the violence.
OSHA scrambled, recalculating coolly, "You. Are a... government spy."
Weapons hidden within the ship swivelled out of nooks. Doctor picked up his cutting torch with an honest to god 'maim' function.
I bared my teeth.
I had had my teeth coated in a diamond-titanium crystalline nano mix a few years ago. It beats brushing. I could literally bite clean through steel. Or bone.
Like I said, negotiator.
Legion looked at each of us. Not really OSHA, because she was the ship, but he made an effort. "I did not come here to fight. I came here to offer you a job."
I spoke up, "You have someone bad you want us to kill?"
Legion shook his head, like the fate of the world rested on his metal shoulders. Just because it could be true, didn't make it any less pretentious as all fuck.
"I want you all to become the punk rockers you have all been aspiring to be."
Doctor spoke first, "I have *never*-"
OSHA cut him off, "how many groups still allow you to be publicly sexist? I have never felt so metal!" she shrieked.
I tried explaining to her that she was made entirely of metal. She told me to stop being her father. She let us drift through space for seven hours with 15% oxygen while she pouted.
Legion turned to Doctor, "I want to create a violent, active group that under the guise of a music group would be able to freely enter countries, nation states, and space habitats. Having a naturally rebellious nature to your medium, you would stir up otherwise stagnant anti-establishment entities to-"
OHSA cut him off, a little coldly "go back to the punk rock. Speak normal English."
Legion's smile twitched "I would pay you to go all over the galaxy, write songs that are otherwise illegal to even think of, perform for violent members of society..."
"And then you'll kill them," finished OSHA.
Legion shook his head, "No. We'll identify them. They make their own decisions from there. And you'll produce the only concerts in the galaxy where first and second degree burns are a sign of a good time."
OSHA was quiet for three seconds. She is brilliant. "I'm in if we get to burn some people. And if it pays well."
Legion rattled off a number.
Doctor nodded, "Not bad."
Legion continued,"...million. Per Earth year. With options to increase."
There was silence.
Never one to be left out, "what about me?"
Legion kneeled down, and took a diagram out of his shitty government suit.
"This is your jaw. This here is a minor adjustment that could only be made at two specialty designers in existence. This, is your bite mark."
He pointed to a jagged hole that spelled symmetrical violence.
And spelled out my name.
And that was how the government shut down the only pirate ship for the past decade, by creating the pun intended stellar career of the punk band Dr OS. Hitte. We still blow things up, and I get to bite people.
Some dogs get their day, but only after blowing up a part of the world.
| |
For those who don't know, land under pavement for many years has many problems when uncovered. | [WP] 100 years in the future and roads are obsolete. The government is auctioning off all interstate highways to the highest bidder and you have specific plans for them. | "Kansas?"
"Yes, Kansas."
"Which roads in Kansas, exactly?"
"All of them." I said, I tapped my fingers impatiently as I looked at the vid screen. The broker gave me an incredulous look.
"Well... save the I-70 route I imagine I could get the rest for dimes on the kilometer. but, why?"
"That's my own concern." I snapped back at the screen. "I got the money, just make it happen!"
"Alright, but I should warn you, there's a couple mag-lev rail companies eyeing the route. The bidding could get high..."
I paused, I had plenty of money, the VR bubble was good to me. Made enough dough to leave the crappy planet down below and get a swanky pad up in orbit. Then I got out before the whole market tanked, as it always does. I brought up the google map on my tablet and scratched my chin. Even as loaded as I was, getting into a bidding war with a couple mag-lev companies might be a bit out of my reach. I stared at the map, the crisscrossing highways and interstates of the united states all up for grabs. The old crumbling country couldn't afford to maintain them and nobody used them anyway with flying cars finally becoming a reality after being teased for so long.
"Okay, so how about all the roads south of the 70, north of the 40, and between the 35 and 25? Let the big boys have their interstates, I'll take all the crappy little roads."
The broker nodded and leaned forward to type in some keystrokes into his terminal. A moment later fine print raced across my screen. I glanced over it a moment before pressing my thumb to an encryption reader. "Agreed, make it happen!"
The broker nodded and I tapped the terminal to end the call. Tapping my fingers I glanced out of the window to gaze at the dark earth below. It's sparkling street lights offering a great contrast to the inky blackness like their own field of stars, a shimmering display of humanity's technological triumph over darkness. And if the bidding goes well I just purchased the rights for all of those beautiful blinking lights on almost 300,000 square kilometers of it. I grinned. Soon, very soon, when the orbiting habitats orbit around north america at night, Dick Butt will be there to greet them. | And here is your receipt for your purchase Mr?
Leno, J.
Excellent Mr Leno. Might I ask, why did you buy all of Route 66? Its a rather sizeable route.
I like my cars to be free range. |
For those who don't know, land under pavement for many years has many problems when uncovered. | [WP] 100 years in the future and roads are obsolete. The government is auctioning off all interstate highways to the highest bidder and you have specific plans for them. | "Kansas?"
"Yes, Kansas."
"Which roads in Kansas, exactly?"
"All of them." I said, I tapped my fingers impatiently as I looked at the vid screen. The broker gave me an incredulous look.
"Well... save the I-70 route I imagine I could get the rest for dimes on the kilometer. but, why?"
"That's my own concern." I snapped back at the screen. "I got the money, just make it happen!"
"Alright, but I should warn you, there's a couple mag-lev rail companies eyeing the route. The bidding could get high..."
I paused, I had plenty of money, the VR bubble was good to me. Made enough dough to leave the crappy planet down below and get a swanky pad up in orbit. Then I got out before the whole market tanked, as it always does. I brought up the google map on my tablet and scratched my chin. Even as loaded as I was, getting into a bidding war with a couple mag-lev companies might be a bit out of my reach. I stared at the map, the crisscrossing highways and interstates of the united states all up for grabs. The old crumbling country couldn't afford to maintain them and nobody used them anyway with flying cars finally becoming a reality after being teased for so long.
"Okay, so how about all the roads south of the 70, north of the 40, and between the 35 and 25? Let the big boys have their interstates, I'll take all the crappy little roads."
The broker nodded and leaned forward to type in some keystrokes into his terminal. A moment later fine print raced across my screen. I glanced over it a moment before pressing my thumb to an encryption reader. "Agreed, make it happen!"
The broker nodded and I tapped the terminal to end the call. Tapping my fingers I glanced out of the window to gaze at the dark earth below. It's sparkling street lights offering a great contrast to the inky blackness like their own field of stars, a shimmering display of humanity's technological triumph over darkness. And if the bidding goes well I just purchased the rights for all of those beautiful blinking lights on almost 300,000 square kilometers of it. I grinned. Soon, very soon, when the orbiting habitats orbit around north america at night, Dick Butt will be there to greet them. | The Mag-rail expansion took forever, but by the time they were done with it, the entire country was linked by high speed, low cost transportation. Cars were a thing of the past. Roads and rest stops became desolate wastelands. Only those with governmental clearance could access them.
But even after 100 years, people still longed for the open road underneath them. They needed that freedom to go wherever they wanted, whenever they wanted. Sure the Mag-rail was fast, and cheap, but it just wasn’t the same as being in control.
When the old interstate went up for auction, few could afford the investment. Those that could had grandiose plans of reopening it to the public. But that was going to take some serious bribery, or worse.
“I gotta have those goddam roads Slim.” he said to me in his deep Texas accent, hunched over his desk, staring at a map of the US interstate system. “It’s the only way to make this work”.
“And how do you suggest we go about that?” I answer him, already knowing the answer. I had as much money him, but he always bragged about his.
“You buy it from ‘em or you pry it from ‘em son, that’s how business get’s done” He said to me with a smirk, like he was singing it to a melody. “But make sure I get those goddam roads.” He folds up the map, tossing it in his top drawer.
That wasn’t just any old map. It had all of his notes on it. Caches of antique cars, motorcycles, gas, and guns, scattered all over the place. Just the right ingredients to make someone very, very rich. That is if they know how to cook.
“That’s how business get’s done huh.” I say. When he looks up at me to nod in agreement, BANG. BANG BANG. BANG…
I go through his desk, stepping over his dead body to grab the map from the drawer, and a bottle of 100 year whiskey that was passed down to him from the Mag-Rail christening.
“And that’s how business gets done.”
|
[WP] Write a poem gracefully describing the symptoms of an illness / disease of your choice. | "My Uncle Peter"
I know him most honestly
As a man in Three Stages
Stage the First: The Years of Health
Hair long and braided he stands proud in his home
A smile so sincere you'll feel never alone
When food and drink comes he is never that picky
His cockatoo calls "Hello! Hello, I'm Ricky!"
He loves cars and works
In his garage at night
And he talks of all things in a tone soft and light
He works hard to help those who can't help themselves
Using years of earned knowledge, and books on his shelves
To a young boy he seems a giant, to a young man he still
Has a presence, a persona that looms like a great hill
And an embrace like a blanket, from which warmth does spill.
-
Stage the Second: The Early Months
I visit him once more, in his home proud and wild
I've grown into a man, I'm no longer a child
And there he stands, stiff-limbed but still proud
And over our chats hangs the slightest dark cloud.
"It's Parkinson's," he says when I ask him about
The little pills he takes before we go out
Without this aid he grows weary and cold
Limbs seize, mind slows, he seems so very old.
He's still young at heart though, as the days do attest
Each outing an adventure, a mission, a quest
We talk not too rarely and share hints and tips
He too loves writing, spilling words from his lips
Of fantastic fantasies, and horrendous horrors
Of terrific terrors, grim Grimms' tales and many books more
I smile, as he's happy, and healthy and I worry no more.
-
Stage the Third: The Present Day *or* At The Family Reunion
Once more we stand before his home
Once more he smiles, all skin and bone
But most striking are his moves erratic
He jerks around, producing static.
He sways and bows, left to right
Holds a cordless drill as he works
Each movement seems a drawn-out fight
But standing still must hurt.
Yet he's almost graceful in a way
Each movement smooth and long
And starting up still as he sways
He croons a Highland song.
When eating he takes care and time
He holds a fork loaded strong
Yet he can barely move his cheesecake lime
It seems so sad and wrong.
Yet still he smiles, and still he sings
The bells he's lined the porch with ring
And as the family gathers, grinning
He bounces up and starts just spinning.
The efforts leave him quite exhausted
And on the couch we lie
He turns to me, and says with cheer
"I'll dance and sing until I die." | Love in the Eyes of Autism;
I wonder how you see the world,
Your amusement parks dance and sing for you, excitement and glee at the flashing lights and exciting sounds.
While for me they invade my eyes and burn my ears with ferocity, attacking me at every turn to the point where all I can do is crawl back to my solitude.
I wonder how you feel the world,
Being able to follow any crowd with ease and motion, flowing like a river, all connected.
While I stick out like a rock, crashing against the current of social interaction, always about to drown.
I wonder how you hear the world,
Music for you simply following an intended rhythm, matching up to make a simple melody.
While I count every space and see every note, breaking down each instrument into a lovely chorus of order among chaos.
You a earthling, and I, a martian of my own world.
And still you love me.
| |
Feel free to take this in absolutely any direction, from any perspective you'd like. As a small elaboration, I'm imagining that therapists still have specialties other than "supernatural". So secretive grief counselors, marriage counselors, trauma specialists, and other more esoteric professions I can't think of. Have fun!
Also, first prompt. Critiques welcome! | [WP] There is a small, secretive, but otherwise normal group of therapists with an unusual clientele. This includes eldritch, supernatural, immortal, and otherwise unusual beings. | *Patient 9 was... somewhat difficult today.*
"You're going to be late, Doctor!"
"Yes Devin, thank you!"
"Nine's appointment is in six minutes!"
"Just follow me with the bag! You've got the got the checklist?"
Devin fumbled with the prep-bag and they ran down the "It's only got a an S-6 of plus-or-minus nineteen seconds for its on-time score!"
"Jesus Christ Devin, run the damn checklist!"
"Phone?"
"Dropped it on your desk!" Doctor Brenner vaulted across the stairwell's final railing, shouldered through the door, and un-threaded his belt while Devin caught up.
"Wallet and IDs?"
"Briefcase, behind your desk! Just run for it!"
"Passpo-"
"For Fuck's sake Devin, just do it fast!"
"Travel shit? Metal? Bathroom? Alibi?"
"Ticket stubs are hidden, belt's on the floor and my zipper's plastic, and Quentin's running my personal e-mail."
"Bathroom?"
The reach Nine's door, Dr. Brenner kicks off his shoes. "Eh, gimmie the jar."
Devin winds the analog countdown, then finds something to do with his hands when Brenner finishes. "Yeah, floor's fine for that doc."
Brenner lets his pants, fall, pulls off his sweater and t-shirt in one go, then pumps the dispenses alongside the door and rubs a generous layer of the gel on his body, and inside his underwear. Devin watches the seconds on his watch as he drops the sequence of tablet's into the prep-bag's water-bottle. Brenner downs it in several heaving gulps while Devin waves at his damp-spots with their folded-up checklist.
"Time, Devin?"
"Ninety seconds and change."
"*Christ.*"
"Room's prepped, get in!"
"See you in...?"
"Two weeks! -Ish. Just go!"
Brenner catches the timer out of the air as Devin throw it after him. The door slams and seals, and the lights flicker as they turn over to the room's internal power. Brenner takes his seat and waits, counting towards ninety. He takes a deep breath and holds it as he passes eighty, though it doesn't quite a correlate with a smooth transition. Not quite, but still.
A slight breeze rustles his hair, and Brenner flicks his timer's trigger.
*Ninety minutes to go.*
"Good morning, Dr. Brenner."
"Good morning. If you've made yourself acceptably, comfortable, let's begin with your goals for today's session."
"Good morning, Dr. Brenner."
Brenner flicked his eyes to his timer and back. *Eighty-nine minutes to go,* eh thought, *and we're already on our first loop. Well, this'll be bracing.*
| Psychology has always been a passion of mine. Knowing how the human mind works, knowing the way each individual handles life.
my degree was, however, a lackluster endeavor. Once I obtained a license and started attaining clientel I realized I've made a grave mistake.
Having the desire to know how the human mind works is one thing, choosing a profession that entails listening to other people essentially bitching is another. Most patients come in because they need help, help fixing a marriage that's failing, or dealing with memories that hurt them...and most of all, those who think a pill can make life more than what it is. After months of listening to people, with the mask of a sympathetic ear, I can tell you this, enjoy the little things, because life sucks, people suck, and no one wants to hear your problems unless you pay them.
Eight months of questioning my life and pretending to hear those coming to me with the same problems, tuning in to their rantings on key words like, "you know?", and " what should I do?". Always responding with "what do you think?". I've mastered the art of daydreaming at this point.
One afternoon; not sure of what day, as they all all blur together at this point, my daydreaming was cut short, only this time it wasn't the usual words. The gentleman I was speaking with had made his appointment weeks ago, though canceled four times, and upon meeting him I could see he was some form of an addict. I was prepared for the pale shriveled looking man to explain why he needs drugs, but instead he began describing how he was recently attacked outside of his law firm. This caught my attention, so I listened to the frail man describe how his accoster attacked him as he was walking to his car on a typical late night at his firm. I ritualistically explained to him that a mugging can be a traumatizing experience. The man shook his head, insisting I don't understand. He continued to explain that the man didn't rob him but he held him down and bit his neck. My mind went immediately to how awful drug addicts can be, resorting to bath salts.
Our session was over at this point, and i suggested to the man that we meet again soon, and to schedule an appointment with my secretary. After a few more appointments of daddy issues and failing marriages, I left my office. Walking to my car I thought of the brandy waiting at home to help me unwind. As I approached my car I noticed a man in the parking lot, leaning on my car, almost limp, seemingly struggling to stand. I assumed a drunk had Stumbled from the nearby bar, but as I got to my car I recognized him as the lawyer from earlier. I thought perhaps he is on his drug of choice and is in need of help. I walked to him and asked if I could call someone, to which he replied "You don't understand, I can't..i can't take it..the hunger.." He lunged at me with speed I didn't expect, as I fell to the ground I felt a searing pain in my neck, and as my vision faded a warmth spreading through my body.
Splitting pain in my head forced my eyes open, slowly, as the florescent lights burned like a hangover from hell. I was tempted to roll over, until my brain clicked on and I realized that im somewhere unfamiliar. As I forced my eyes open, I began to make out a figure standing above me..I began to focus in on this figure, a pale, tall man, he was adorned in a tweed shirt complete with elbow pads and a bowtie. As he spoke my ears forced me awake enough to understand. "Welcome, you might not understand now, but don't be afraid, you are safe. You are in my office, and may I be the first to welcome you to the psychiatric offices for the unseen |
Feel free to take this in absolutely any direction, from any perspective you'd like. As a small elaboration, I'm imagining that therapists still have specialties other than "supernatural". So secretive grief counselors, marriage counselors, trauma specialists, and other more esoteric professions I can't think of. Have fun!
Also, first prompt. Critiques welcome! | [WP] There is a small, secretive, but otherwise normal group of therapists with an unusual clientele. This includes eldritch, supernatural, immortal, and otherwise unusual beings. | "What's wrong today Bob?"
Bobbardegonth let out a sigh, although one would call it more of an inhuman growl that would send one's mind to the brink of insanity.
"It's my confidence," he gurgled. "It's lower than the depths my brothers crawled out of. Every time I meet a nice girl at a bar and offer her a drink or something, it ends with ten or so people screaming and ending up in a psych ward under medication. I've run out of hangout spots and friends are hard to come by besides extended family."
"Don't you worry there, Bob. Everyone has moments where others aren't drawn to people. I didn't meet my wife immediately! I had to wait and summon her the old fashioned way. And even then it was a rocky road."
"But this is different, Dr. Malcovich. No one likes me and it feels bad."
"Don't worry, Bob. I like you. Your family likes you. I think I know what you need."
"What's that Doc?"
"A big 'ole hug." | Psychology has always been a passion of mine. Knowing how the human mind works, knowing the way each individual handles life.
my degree was, however, a lackluster endeavor. Once I obtained a license and started attaining clientel I realized I've made a grave mistake.
Having the desire to know how the human mind works is one thing, choosing a profession that entails listening to other people essentially bitching is another. Most patients come in because they need help, help fixing a marriage that's failing, or dealing with memories that hurt them...and most of all, those who think a pill can make life more than what it is. After months of listening to people, with the mask of a sympathetic ear, I can tell you this, enjoy the little things, because life sucks, people suck, and no one wants to hear your problems unless you pay them.
Eight months of questioning my life and pretending to hear those coming to me with the same problems, tuning in to their rantings on key words like, "you know?", and " what should I do?". Always responding with "what do you think?". I've mastered the art of daydreaming at this point.
One afternoon; not sure of what day, as they all all blur together at this point, my daydreaming was cut short, only this time it wasn't the usual words. The gentleman I was speaking with had made his appointment weeks ago, though canceled four times, and upon meeting him I could see he was some form of an addict. I was prepared for the pale shriveled looking man to explain why he needs drugs, but instead he began describing how he was recently attacked outside of his law firm. This caught my attention, so I listened to the frail man describe how his accoster attacked him as he was walking to his car on a typical late night at his firm. I ritualistically explained to him that a mugging can be a traumatizing experience. The man shook his head, insisting I don't understand. He continued to explain that the man didn't rob him but he held him down and bit his neck. My mind went immediately to how awful drug addicts can be, resorting to bath salts.
Our session was over at this point, and i suggested to the man that we meet again soon, and to schedule an appointment with my secretary. After a few more appointments of daddy issues and failing marriages, I left my office. Walking to my car I thought of the brandy waiting at home to help me unwind. As I approached my car I noticed a man in the parking lot, leaning on my car, almost limp, seemingly struggling to stand. I assumed a drunk had Stumbled from the nearby bar, but as I got to my car I recognized him as the lawyer from earlier. I thought perhaps he is on his drug of choice and is in need of help. I walked to him and asked if I could call someone, to which he replied "You don't understand, I can't..i can't take it..the hunger.." He lunged at me with speed I didn't expect, as I fell to the ground I felt a searing pain in my neck, and as my vision faded a warmth spreading through my body.
Splitting pain in my head forced my eyes open, slowly, as the florescent lights burned like a hangover from hell. I was tempted to roll over, until my brain clicked on and I realized that im somewhere unfamiliar. As I forced my eyes open, I began to make out a figure standing above me..I began to focus in on this figure, a pale, tall man, he was adorned in a tweed shirt complete with elbow pads and a bowtie. As he spoke my ears forced me awake enough to understand. "Welcome, you might not understand now, but don't be afraid, you are safe. You are in my office, and may I be the first to welcome you to the psychiatric offices for the unseen |
Feel free to take this in absolutely any direction, from any perspective you'd like. As a small elaboration, I'm imagining that therapists still have specialties other than "supernatural". So secretive grief counselors, marriage counselors, trauma specialists, and other more esoteric professions I can't think of. Have fun!
Also, first prompt. Critiques welcome! | [WP] There is a small, secretive, but otherwise normal group of therapists with an unusual clientele. This includes eldritch, supernatural, immortal, and otherwise unusual beings. | I studied my paperwork as I waited for the next client to arrive, preparation is key in this line of work and if you aren’t prepared for what walks through the door you could, at best offend the client and at worst be removed from the timeline and shattered at an atomic level. I failed to prepare for my last meeting and almost gave third degree burns to Mrs Brookes thanks to a friendly handshake and my silver wedding ring. A rookie mistake but easily made when your clientele is as diverse and unusual as mine are. My husband and I were barely married so I was reluctant to take the ring off for fear of losing it, but now I kept it in my top drawer next to a mixture of jewellery, gadgets and symbols. Some merely trinkets, others effective safety measures when supernatural clients became emotional or enraged, which happened more than I would like.
I pulled out the file for my next patient and re-checked his bio, I knew him well but a bit more prep work couldn’t hurt.
------------------------------------------------
**Name:** Ashley
**Class:** Metamorph
**Species:** Shapeshifter
**Description:** N/A
**Offenses:** Has been sentenced by the council to attend therapy for unconsciously exposing his abilities in public and committing unsanctioned identity fraud.
**Dislikes:** silver, mirrors, self-reflection, scrutiny, being alone
**Patient history:** Ashley has suffered with identity issues for the most of his adolescence. He craves acceptance and stability but due to his natural impulse to copy appearances and traits of those around him, he often finds normal interaction difficult, as his fellow conversationalists are unnerved by his talent of mirroring.
Despite his failure with interaction he shows clear signs of wanting an extroverted lifestyle. He enjoys the company of others though his need to be around others has evolved to the point where clear boundaries must be set, as he will ignore social faux pas such as personal space invasion.
*+Recent sessions have raised suspicions that he may additionally have obsessive tendencies.*
*+In the last few meetings he has become uncharacteristically less willing to partake in discussions.*
---------------------------------------
I had barely skimmed through the first few pages when someone rapped on my office door. I opened my clunking drawer, filed the documents back in there place and called for the client to enter. I was met by a bushel of unkempt blonde hair and a woman’s voice, as Susan, my secretary, peaked her head around the door smiling apologetically.
“Sorry, but It looks like your five o’clock is a no-show Doctor Barnes, shall I rearrange your schedule?”
I looked up at her and had difficulty holding back a scowl.
“No that’s fine I have work to do but if you would like to come in for a quick chat, there’s some things I’d like to discuss.”
Susan, still holding a straining smile shook her head and slowly inched her way back behind the door as her features started to squirm uncontrollably. I sighed.
“You’re wasting time, and I have other clients Ash, come in and take a seat.”
My would-be secretary opened the door further to expose a figure dressed in a light tracksuit and a now clearly shifting face, the mouth started reforming as it spoke, with a more masculine voice.
“Sorry Doc, didn’t mean no harm by it I just don’t feel in the mood to talk, y’know. When I walked past the front desk and I signed-in the shifting started and I figured I might be able to pull a fast one on ya.”
I pulled out a pen and scribbled a note onto one of my various notebooks, a note for myself, the job was ever challenging and every incident no matter how small needed to be documented.
“I realise it’s difficult for you, but could you please hold your form while in my office, my staff are aware of your talents, they are trained to handle more than most, but I would like to keep their supernatural exposure relatively low as it causes undue stress.“
Ash’s face now resembled a young mans but the hair was still a mop of blonde flicks. He seemed unperturbed by the change brushing it out of his eyes absent-mindedly.
“I get it Doc I really do but y’know it’s one of my quirks, its getting worse, I just notice things about people and before I know it I’ve shifted into them. It’s when I see an unusual feature, if something sticks out I subconsciously copy it and the rest of the face follows naturally. Your secretary hair just stuck out.”
I reached into one of the lower drawers and fished out a mask, a noh mask, once the property of a wed-locked Shinto priest now in my care thanks to a less than ideal, impromptu exorcism that took place in my office when their marriage therapy failed. My desk drawers were full of clutter and was glad I was finally getting some use of them. I had now met with Ash on several occasions and was building a good client-practitioner rapport. Ash had a particularly memorable first session, he arrived ahead of his meeting and flawlessly copied my features after stealing a glance at my face through the window, this caused confusion amongst my staff when he signed in. The meeting that followed was both unproductive and surreal as I felt I was analysing myself. Now I wear the mask so he has nothing to focus on. My voice muffled behind the pale plastic face.
“Well let’s get started shall we. Today I want to focus on your shifting Ash, I believe it’s tied to some sub-conscious memories. Please list the times you’ve shifted since we last met.”
Ash’s face was still in a state of flux as he fished out a fistful of crumpled notes from this tracksuit pocket, without another face to copy, it almost settled on its default male visage but kept fuzzing and shifting in an unsettling, unfocused way like a pixelated picture. His mouth curled and sank as he spoke in an ever shifting tone as he listed off the events.
“Tuesday… shifted because one of my social workers smiled at me, her lipstick was smudged. Thursday… a shop assistant had a piecing hole in her nose and ear, I barely managed to leave before I shifted. Friday a little girl past me on a bike, I shifted almost immediately, caused a scene and was detained again…”
Something nagged at the back of my mind, there was a pattern here. I interrupted Ash and changed the focus.
“I've heard a lot of these instances now Ash over the last few weeks and I believe there’s a common link. Do you realise that of the all the shifts you've told me every single one is brought on by close proximity to women, why do you think that is?"
Ash’s face was unreadable as usual, but the question had rendered him silent, in thought.
“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to…”
Ash looked at my mask and opened his mouth to say something but he paused and looked downwards instead, unable to form the words.
“How about I change the subject, tell me about your family again”
I could hear the smile even through the distortion. We’d talked about his family before and he had nothing but praise for them.
“There’s four of us, me, my two brothers, and my dad. I’m the only shifter, mum was one too... She died when I was born. I heard dad was hopeless at first, we lived with my uncle for the longest time, and they raised me together with my brothers. I love each of them, I couldn’t ask for a better family. Growing up dad used to take us hiking and fishing, my brothers and I used to wrestle and tease each other, despite my abilities we were a normal family, but a few years ago something went wrong. I just felt like an outsider, I get strange feelings, my body does things. Teenagers huh, hormones and all that. As soon as puberty hit full swing the shifting became uncontrollable.”
I put my pen down and closed my book bringing my hands to a steeple, I had to pick my words carefully.
“So you could say you had a very male-orientated upbringing?”
“Huh? yeah, I guess, I didn’t really talk with girls till I went to school, I just got on with guys more I liked them… I… liked…”
The words faltered as Ash drifted off into a silent discomfort, his face seized dramatically.
“Do you think…I…?
A silence filled the room as we both pondered the possibility. Ash broke the silence by abruptly standing up and walking to the door.
“We still have time Ash, let’s talk some more before you leave.”
Ash lingered at the door awhile, I couldn’t image how overwhelming the emotions must have been. Then without turning around she left.
| Psychology has always been a passion of mine. Knowing how the human mind works, knowing the way each individual handles life.
my degree was, however, a lackluster endeavor. Once I obtained a license and started attaining clientel I realized I've made a grave mistake.
Having the desire to know how the human mind works is one thing, choosing a profession that entails listening to other people essentially bitching is another. Most patients come in because they need help, help fixing a marriage that's failing, or dealing with memories that hurt them...and most of all, those who think a pill can make life more than what it is. After months of listening to people, with the mask of a sympathetic ear, I can tell you this, enjoy the little things, because life sucks, people suck, and no one wants to hear your problems unless you pay them.
Eight months of questioning my life and pretending to hear those coming to me with the same problems, tuning in to their rantings on key words like, "you know?", and " what should I do?". Always responding with "what do you think?". I've mastered the art of daydreaming at this point.
One afternoon; not sure of what day, as they all all blur together at this point, my daydreaming was cut short, only this time it wasn't the usual words. The gentleman I was speaking with had made his appointment weeks ago, though canceled four times, and upon meeting him I could see he was some form of an addict. I was prepared for the pale shriveled looking man to explain why he needs drugs, but instead he began describing how he was recently attacked outside of his law firm. This caught my attention, so I listened to the frail man describe how his accoster attacked him as he was walking to his car on a typical late night at his firm. I ritualistically explained to him that a mugging can be a traumatizing experience. The man shook his head, insisting I don't understand. He continued to explain that the man didn't rob him but he held him down and bit his neck. My mind went immediately to how awful drug addicts can be, resorting to bath salts.
Our session was over at this point, and i suggested to the man that we meet again soon, and to schedule an appointment with my secretary. After a few more appointments of daddy issues and failing marriages, I left my office. Walking to my car I thought of the brandy waiting at home to help me unwind. As I approached my car I noticed a man in the parking lot, leaning on my car, almost limp, seemingly struggling to stand. I assumed a drunk had Stumbled from the nearby bar, but as I got to my car I recognized him as the lawyer from earlier. I thought perhaps he is on his drug of choice and is in need of help. I walked to him and asked if I could call someone, to which he replied "You don't understand, I can't..i can't take it..the hunger.." He lunged at me with speed I didn't expect, as I fell to the ground I felt a searing pain in my neck, and as my vision faded a warmth spreading through my body.
Splitting pain in my head forced my eyes open, slowly, as the florescent lights burned like a hangover from hell. I was tempted to roll over, until my brain clicked on and I realized that im somewhere unfamiliar. As I forced my eyes open, I began to make out a figure standing above me..I began to focus in on this figure, a pale, tall man, he was adorned in a tweed shirt complete with elbow pads and a bowtie. As he spoke my ears forced me awake enough to understand. "Welcome, you might not understand now, but don't be afraid, you are safe. You are in my office, and may I be the first to welcome you to the psychiatric offices for the unseen |
Feel free to take this in absolutely any direction, from any perspective you'd like. As a small elaboration, I'm imagining that therapists still have specialties other than "supernatural". So secretive grief counselors, marriage counselors, trauma specialists, and other more esoteric professions I can't think of. Have fun!
Also, first prompt. Critiques welcome! | [WP] There is a small, secretive, but otherwise normal group of therapists with an unusual clientele. This includes eldritch, supernatural, immortal, and otherwise unusual beings. | "What's wrong today Bob?"
Bobbardegonth let out a sigh, although one would call it more of an inhuman growl that would send one's mind to the brink of insanity.
"It's my confidence," he gurgled. "It's lower than the depths my brothers crawled out of. Every time I meet a nice girl at a bar and offer her a drink or something, it ends with ten or so people screaming and ending up in a psych ward under medication. I've run out of hangout spots and friends are hard to come by besides extended family."
"Don't you worry there, Bob. Everyone has moments where others aren't drawn to people. I didn't meet my wife immediately! I had to wait and summon her the old fashioned way. And even then it was a rocky road."
"But this is different, Dr. Malcovich. No one likes me and it feels bad."
"Don't worry, Bob. I like you. Your family likes you. I think I know what you need."
"What's that Doc?"
"A big 'ole hug." | *Patient 9 was... somewhat difficult today.*
"You're going to be late, Doctor!"
"Yes Devin, thank you!"
"Nine's appointment is in six minutes!"
"Just follow me with the bag! You've got the got the checklist?"
Devin fumbled with the prep-bag and they ran down the "It's only got a an S-6 of plus-or-minus nineteen seconds for its on-time score!"
"Jesus Christ Devin, run the damn checklist!"
"Phone?"
"Dropped it on your desk!" Doctor Brenner vaulted across the stairwell's final railing, shouldered through the door, and un-threaded his belt while Devin caught up.
"Wallet and IDs?"
"Briefcase, behind your desk! Just run for it!"
"Passpo-"
"For Fuck's sake Devin, just do it fast!"
"Travel shit? Metal? Bathroom? Alibi?"
"Ticket stubs are hidden, belt's on the floor and my zipper's plastic, and Quentin's running my personal e-mail."
"Bathroom?"
The reach Nine's door, Dr. Brenner kicks off his shoes. "Eh, gimmie the jar."
Devin winds the analog countdown, then finds something to do with his hands when Brenner finishes. "Yeah, floor's fine for that doc."
Brenner lets his pants, fall, pulls off his sweater and t-shirt in one go, then pumps the dispenses alongside the door and rubs a generous layer of the gel on his body, and inside his underwear. Devin watches the seconds on his watch as he drops the sequence of tablet's into the prep-bag's water-bottle. Brenner downs it in several heaving gulps while Devin waves at his damp-spots with their folded-up checklist.
"Time, Devin?"
"Ninety seconds and change."
"*Christ.*"
"Room's prepped, get in!"
"See you in...?"
"Two weeks! -Ish. Just go!"
Brenner catches the timer out of the air as Devin throw it after him. The door slams and seals, and the lights flicker as they turn over to the room's internal power. Brenner takes his seat and waits, counting towards ninety. He takes a deep breath and holds it as he passes eighty, though it doesn't quite a correlate with a smooth transition. Not quite, but still.
A slight breeze rustles his hair, and Brenner flicks his timer's trigger.
*Ninety minutes to go.*
"Good morning, Dr. Brenner."
"Good morning. If you've made yourself acceptably, comfortable, let's begin with your goals for today's session."
"Good morning, Dr. Brenner."
Brenner flicked his eyes to his timer and back. *Eighty-nine minutes to go,* eh thought, *and we're already on our first loop. Well, this'll be bracing.*
|
Feel free to take this in absolutely any direction, from any perspective you'd like. As a small elaboration, I'm imagining that therapists still have specialties other than "supernatural". So secretive grief counselors, marriage counselors, trauma specialists, and other more esoteric professions I can't think of. Have fun!
Also, first prompt. Critiques welcome! | [WP] There is a small, secretive, but otherwise normal group of therapists with an unusual clientele. This includes eldritch, supernatural, immortal, and otherwise unusual beings. | I studied my paperwork as I waited for the next client to arrive, preparation is key in this line of work and if you aren’t prepared for what walks through the door you could, at best offend the client and at worst be removed from the timeline and shattered at an atomic level. I failed to prepare for my last meeting and almost gave third degree burns to Mrs Brookes thanks to a friendly handshake and my silver wedding ring. A rookie mistake but easily made when your clientele is as diverse and unusual as mine are. My husband and I were barely married so I was reluctant to take the ring off for fear of losing it, but now I kept it in my top drawer next to a mixture of jewellery, gadgets and symbols. Some merely trinkets, others effective safety measures when supernatural clients became emotional or enraged, which happened more than I would like.
I pulled out the file for my next patient and re-checked his bio, I knew him well but a bit more prep work couldn’t hurt.
------------------------------------------------
**Name:** Ashley
**Class:** Metamorph
**Species:** Shapeshifter
**Description:** N/A
**Offenses:** Has been sentenced by the council to attend therapy for unconsciously exposing his abilities in public and committing unsanctioned identity fraud.
**Dislikes:** silver, mirrors, self-reflection, scrutiny, being alone
**Patient history:** Ashley has suffered with identity issues for the most of his adolescence. He craves acceptance and stability but due to his natural impulse to copy appearances and traits of those around him, he often finds normal interaction difficult, as his fellow conversationalists are unnerved by his talent of mirroring.
Despite his failure with interaction he shows clear signs of wanting an extroverted lifestyle. He enjoys the company of others though his need to be around others has evolved to the point where clear boundaries must be set, as he will ignore social faux pas such as personal space invasion.
*+Recent sessions have raised suspicions that he may additionally have obsessive tendencies.*
*+In the last few meetings he has become uncharacteristically less willing to partake in discussions.*
---------------------------------------
I had barely skimmed through the first few pages when someone rapped on my office door. I opened my clunking drawer, filed the documents back in there place and called for the client to enter. I was met by a bushel of unkempt blonde hair and a woman’s voice, as Susan, my secretary, peaked her head around the door smiling apologetically.
“Sorry, but It looks like your five o’clock is a no-show Doctor Barnes, shall I rearrange your schedule?”
I looked up at her and had difficulty holding back a scowl.
“No that’s fine I have work to do but if you would like to come in for a quick chat, there’s some things I’d like to discuss.”
Susan, still holding a straining smile shook her head and slowly inched her way back behind the door as her features started to squirm uncontrollably. I sighed.
“You’re wasting time, and I have other clients Ash, come in and take a seat.”
My would-be secretary opened the door further to expose a figure dressed in a light tracksuit and a now clearly shifting face, the mouth started reforming as it spoke, with a more masculine voice.
“Sorry Doc, didn’t mean no harm by it I just don’t feel in the mood to talk, y’know. When I walked past the front desk and I signed-in the shifting started and I figured I might be able to pull a fast one on ya.”
I pulled out a pen and scribbled a note onto one of my various notebooks, a note for myself, the job was ever challenging and every incident no matter how small needed to be documented.
“I realise it’s difficult for you, but could you please hold your form while in my office, my staff are aware of your talents, they are trained to handle more than most, but I would like to keep their supernatural exposure relatively low as it causes undue stress.“
Ash’s face now resembled a young mans but the hair was still a mop of blonde flicks. He seemed unperturbed by the change brushing it out of his eyes absent-mindedly.
“I get it Doc I really do but y’know it’s one of my quirks, its getting worse, I just notice things about people and before I know it I’ve shifted into them. It’s when I see an unusual feature, if something sticks out I subconsciously copy it and the rest of the face follows naturally. Your secretary hair just stuck out.”
I reached into one of the lower drawers and fished out a mask, a noh mask, once the property of a wed-locked Shinto priest now in my care thanks to a less than ideal, impromptu exorcism that took place in my office when their marriage therapy failed. My desk drawers were full of clutter and was glad I was finally getting some use of them. I had now met with Ash on several occasions and was building a good client-practitioner rapport. Ash had a particularly memorable first session, he arrived ahead of his meeting and flawlessly copied my features after stealing a glance at my face through the window, this caused confusion amongst my staff when he signed in. The meeting that followed was both unproductive and surreal as I felt I was analysing myself. Now I wear the mask so he has nothing to focus on. My voice muffled behind the pale plastic face.
“Well let’s get started shall we. Today I want to focus on your shifting Ash, I believe it’s tied to some sub-conscious memories. Please list the times you’ve shifted since we last met.”
Ash’s face was still in a state of flux as he fished out a fistful of crumpled notes from this tracksuit pocket, without another face to copy, it almost settled on its default male visage but kept fuzzing and shifting in an unsettling, unfocused way like a pixelated picture. His mouth curled and sank as he spoke in an ever shifting tone as he listed off the events.
“Tuesday… shifted because one of my social workers smiled at me, her lipstick was smudged. Thursday… a shop assistant had a piecing hole in her nose and ear, I barely managed to leave before I shifted. Friday a little girl past me on a bike, I shifted almost immediately, caused a scene and was detained again…”
Something nagged at the back of my mind, there was a pattern here. I interrupted Ash and changed the focus.
“I've heard a lot of these instances now Ash over the last few weeks and I believe there’s a common link. Do you realise that of the all the shifts you've told me every single one is brought on by close proximity to women, why do you think that is?"
Ash’s face was unreadable as usual, but the question had rendered him silent, in thought.
“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to…”
Ash looked at my mask and opened his mouth to say something but he paused and looked downwards instead, unable to form the words.
“How about I change the subject, tell me about your family again”
I could hear the smile even through the distortion. We’d talked about his family before and he had nothing but praise for them.
“There’s four of us, me, my two brothers, and my dad. I’m the only shifter, mum was one too... She died when I was born. I heard dad was hopeless at first, we lived with my uncle for the longest time, and they raised me together with my brothers. I love each of them, I couldn’t ask for a better family. Growing up dad used to take us hiking and fishing, my brothers and I used to wrestle and tease each other, despite my abilities we were a normal family, but a few years ago something went wrong. I just felt like an outsider, I get strange feelings, my body does things. Teenagers huh, hormones and all that. As soon as puberty hit full swing the shifting became uncontrollable.”
I put my pen down and closed my book bringing my hands to a steeple, I had to pick my words carefully.
“So you could say you had a very male-orientated upbringing?”
“Huh? yeah, I guess, I didn’t really talk with girls till I went to school, I just got on with guys more I liked them… I… liked…”
The words faltered as Ash drifted off into a silent discomfort, his face seized dramatically.
“Do you think…I…?
A silence filled the room as we both pondered the possibility. Ash broke the silence by abruptly standing up and walking to the door.
“We still have time Ash, let’s talk some more before you leave.”
Ash lingered at the door awhile, I couldn’t image how overwhelming the emotions must have been. Then without turning around she left.
| *Patient 9 was... somewhat difficult today.*
"You're going to be late, Doctor!"
"Yes Devin, thank you!"
"Nine's appointment is in six minutes!"
"Just follow me with the bag! You've got the got the checklist?"
Devin fumbled with the prep-bag and they ran down the "It's only got a an S-6 of plus-or-minus nineteen seconds for its on-time score!"
"Jesus Christ Devin, run the damn checklist!"
"Phone?"
"Dropped it on your desk!" Doctor Brenner vaulted across the stairwell's final railing, shouldered through the door, and un-threaded his belt while Devin caught up.
"Wallet and IDs?"
"Briefcase, behind your desk! Just run for it!"
"Passpo-"
"For Fuck's sake Devin, just do it fast!"
"Travel shit? Metal? Bathroom? Alibi?"
"Ticket stubs are hidden, belt's on the floor and my zipper's plastic, and Quentin's running my personal e-mail."
"Bathroom?"
The reach Nine's door, Dr. Brenner kicks off his shoes. "Eh, gimmie the jar."
Devin winds the analog countdown, then finds something to do with his hands when Brenner finishes. "Yeah, floor's fine for that doc."
Brenner lets his pants, fall, pulls off his sweater and t-shirt in one go, then pumps the dispenses alongside the door and rubs a generous layer of the gel on his body, and inside his underwear. Devin watches the seconds on his watch as he drops the sequence of tablet's into the prep-bag's water-bottle. Brenner downs it in several heaving gulps while Devin waves at his damp-spots with their folded-up checklist.
"Time, Devin?"
"Ninety seconds and change."
"*Christ.*"
"Room's prepped, get in!"
"See you in...?"
"Two weeks! -Ish. Just go!"
Brenner catches the timer out of the air as Devin throw it after him. The door slams and seals, and the lights flicker as they turn over to the room's internal power. Brenner takes his seat and waits, counting towards ninety. He takes a deep breath and holds it as he passes eighty, though it doesn't quite a correlate with a smooth transition. Not quite, but still.
A slight breeze rustles his hair, and Brenner flicks his timer's trigger.
*Ninety minutes to go.*
"Good morning, Dr. Brenner."
"Good morning. If you've made yourself acceptably, comfortable, let's begin with your goals for today's session."
"Good morning, Dr. Brenner."
Brenner flicked his eyes to his timer and back. *Eighty-nine minutes to go,* eh thought, *and we're already on our first loop. Well, this'll be bracing.*
|
[WP] You are a terrible aspiring serial killer. Every time you try to kill, you incidentally make your "victim's" life exponentially better | Note: This Story is dark. Very dark. Think of Stephen King or Dean Koontz (before Koontz became obsessed with dogs saving the universe and everyone lives happily ever after).
There is bad language, and not everyone lives a happy and healthy life. I hate the word "triggered" for it's use on the internet all the time, but there is legitimately stuff on here that may bring back unwanted thoughts or memories.
This may be too much of a warning, and growing up reading Stephen King, Clive Barker, etc... it's not that big of a deal for me, but I wanted to make it known beforehand what you are in for in case you want to skip this one. It is also pretty long.
__________________________________________
James watched through the window as the woman walked into the other room, crying into the phone. He knew from weeks of monitoring her that she wasn't talking to a boyfriend, and he didn't think she had any family to speak of, so maybe a friend. No difference. He was prepared, had what he needed, and he had decided. Tonight was the night.
~~~
Monica was alone in the house pacing through the various empty rooms, crying into the phone. Bawling really. She wasn't even really sure why, *it* was just worse today. Over the past few weeks? Months?
"I can't even keep my fucking days straight!" she sobbed into the phone with the calm voice on the other line trying it's best to soothe her; calm her down and possibly bring her back from the gulf Monica had entered.
Continuing to pace, she walked throughout the rooms without a sense of purpose when she heard a noise from downstairs.
~~~
Monica had gone upstairs a few seconds ago, so now was the perfect time. On a previous visit James had left a window unlocked so that he could get in quickly and easily. He broke the window last time, but hoped that in her fragile state Monica would blame it on those kids that always play baseball in the street. One foul ball hit her window, broke it pretty good, and the boys were too scared to come get the baseball. He wasn't sure if he had actually left a baseball by the window or not, but it's too late to worry about that now. Everyone makes mistakes on their first time.
James walked over a few yard to the kitchen window that she never checked the lock on and slowly lifted it open. At least he tried to. 'The bitch finally noticed it was unlocked, after all this time!' he wanted to scream, 'it has been unlocked for over three weeks, and TONIGHT of all nights she locks it!?'. He could have killed her he was so pissed off.
James got the carving knife out of his bag and with no hope, and tried to pry the window open. Just as he suspected, the window didn't budge and James was pissed. This was not going as he had planned! He took a cloth out of his bag.
"Thankfully I'm not too mad to forget to wear that friggin' cloth or my blood would be everywhere" he grumbled to himself and punched the window with his cloth covered hand. Not hard enough for the glass to reach his arm and draw blood, but hard enough to make it a little quieter for him to break the rest of the glass. James continued breaking the glass carefully until he could reach the window lock safely.
~~~
"I said shut up!" Monica whispered harshly into the phone, the person on the other end letting out an unintended gasp.
Monica listened for any other noises, especially coming from the direction she thought she heard the first noise. So far, nothing.
"Look," Monica said into the phone, "I thought I heard a noise, but I think that's my fucking imagination too. The meds aren't working anymore. I know that for a fact. I have no friends, no life, and NO. FUCKING. THING. TO LIVE FOR!" She screamed these words into the phone as loud as she could before throwing the phone across the room, shattering it's glass face and spilling it's innards along the floor.
Continuing to sob, she went to nightstand and got the revolver her father had given her. The one thing she kept from that bastard, because no one would force themselves on her again. Not when she had a gun. 'Ironic in multiple ways,' she thought. 'Ironic that I've kept *this* gun that I got from my rapist father to protect me, and ironic that I think I might use this same gun to kill myself tonight'. She hefted it's weight in her hand and laughed bitterly.
~~~
James reached in and unlocked the window, careful of the broken glass around his uncovered arm. He couldn't hear much from Monica, but thought he could hear creaks and groans from her footsteps upstairs as she paced. 'That's a good sign' he thought as he slowly pushed open the window and climbed inside. All of the lights in the house seemed to be on, but that wasn't unusual, especially as of late. Monica seemed to be manic, or on drugs, either way James didn't care as it helped his cause. 'If she somehow lived, who would believe this crazy bitch when she told her story? Plus, she wouldn't be able to recognize my face, or body type, any of that with how cracked out she is' he thought.
After James made it inside, he pulled the carving knife out of his bag again. He didn't expect any trouble, and he had always fantasized about doing the killing up close. Much more personal than a gun. James had the whole thing planned out in his head and went over it all as he started up the stairs, listening for Monica's pacing or voice as he went. Upstairs the floor was creaking and groaning with her footsteps, and James could just make out Monica's voice.
James watched through the window as the woman walked into the other room, crying into the phone. He knew from weeks of monitoring her that she wasn't talking to a boyfriend, and he didn't think she had any family to speak of, so maybe a friend. No difference. He was prepared, had what he needed, and he had decided. Tonight was the night.
~~~
Monica was alone in the house pacing through the various empty rooms, crying into the phone. Bawling really. She wasn't even really sure why, *it* was just worse today. Over the past few weeks? Months?
"I can't even keep my fucking days straight!" she sobbed into the phone with the calm voice on the other line trying it's best to soothe her; calm her down and possibly bring her back from the gulf Monica had entered.
Continuing to pace, she walked throughout the rooms without a sense of purpose when she heard a noise from downstairs.
~~~
Monica had gone upstairs a few seconds ago, so now was the perfect time. On a previous visit James had left a window unlocked so that he could get in quickly and easily. He broke the window last time, but hoped that in her fragile state Monica would blame it on those kids that always play baseball in the street. One foul ball hit her window, broke it pretty good, and the boys were too scared to come get the baseball. He wasn't sure if he had actually left a baseball by the window or not, but it's too late to worry about that now. Everyone makes mistakes on their first time.
James walked over a few yard to the kitchen window that she never checked the lock on and slowly lifted it open. At least he tried to. 'The bitch finally noticed it was unlocked, after all this time!' he wanted to scream, 'it has been unlocked for over three weeks, and TONIGHT of all nights she locks it!?'. He could have killed her he was so pissed off.
James got the carving knife out of his bag and with no hope, and tried to pry the window open. Just as he suspected, the window didn't budge and James was pissed. This was not going as he had planned! He took a cloth out of his bag.
"Thankfully I'm not too mad to forget to wear that friggin' cloth or my blood would be everywhere" he grumbled to himself and punched the window with his cloth covered hand. Not hard enough for the glass to reach his arm and draw blood, but hard enough to make it a little quieter for him to break the rest of the glass. James continued breaking the glass carefully until he could reach the window lock safely.
~~~
"I said shut up!" Monica whispered harshly into the phone, the person on the other end letting out an unintended gasp.
Monica listened for any other noises, especially coming from the direction she thought she heard the first noise. So far, nothing.
"Look," Monica said into the phone, "I thought I heard a noise, but I think that's my fucking imagination too. The meds aren't working anymore. I know that for a fact. I have no friends, no life, and NO. FUCKING. THING. TO LIVE FOR!" She screamed these words into the phone as loud as she could before throwing the phone across the room, shattering it's glass face and spilling it's innards along the floor.
Continuing to sob, she went to nightstand and got the revolver her father had given her. The one thing she kept from that bastard, because no one would force themselves on her again. Not when she had a gun. 'Ironic in multiple ways,' she thought. 'Ironic that I've kept *this* gun that I got from my rapist father to protect me, and ironic that I think I might use this same gun to kill myself tonight'. She hefted it's weight in her hand and laughed bitterly.
_________________________________________________________________________________
Part 1 of 3
| It really shouldn't have been so difficult. If all the cute boys on TV managed to do it, why couldn't she? It was just a matter of...finding the right formula. If only she had been better at chemistry.
Veronica Tate crossed her arms and huffed, her eyes fixed on the hunk at the other end of the subway car. Oh, wasn't she just a complete sucker for a bookworm? And a bookworm with those muscles? That fashion sense? She could hardly wait to suck the life out of him and keep his memory in her pocket for ever and ever.
The train jerked to a halt at Columbus Circle and Hunk stood and offered his seat to an elderly woman who had just boarded. Veronica nearly swooned. It was all she could do not to go strangle him now.
Stations came and went, until they were nearing 238th Street, and Veronica and Hunk were alone in the car. It was her time to strike. She didn't stand from her seat, just scooched across the butt-indents of the bench until she was sitting directly in front of Hunk, who was absorbed in his book. *The Gentrification of the Mind*, it read. Veronica was impressed. She twisted her wedding ring on her finger, trying to build up the courage to do it. The way all the cute boys on TV had. She'd done it once before, hadn't she? As long as you squinted and turned your head a little.
She must have started breathing too hard, because Hunk glanced up at her and jumped when he realized her proximity.
"Um. Hello?" His brow furrowed in exactly the way Veronica imagined in her fantasies. And oh, what perfectly shaped brows.
"Hi." Her voice sounded squeaky and bright even to her own ears.
Hunk shook his head a little and kept on reading until Veronica bit her lip, made up her mind, and pounced on him. *The Gentrification of the Mind* went flying, and immediately her hands wrapped around Hunk's neck, just above his perfectly knotted tie. God, she had never seen a double windsor so tight. Robert had never been able to do that.
Her nails dug into his skin, and his hands clawed at hers. But Veronica, despite not being good at much, was a near perfect paragon of determination. She pressed and squeezed and put all her weight on Hunk's windpipe, grinning and trying to commit every last second of the moment to memory.
But then the train jolted again as it pulled into Van Cortlandt Park-242nd Street, just enough to throw her off balance, and Hunk tore her hands away from his neck. He was out the door and halfway down the platform before Veronica realized what had happened. With a pitiful sob, she reached for the book Hunk had left behind.
*The Gentrification of the Mind*. She flipped through a few pages and quickly understood her mistake. Straight men don't have muscles and fashion sense and eyebrows and tie knots. A formula right in front of her, spelled out in Hunk's reading materials.
Veronica sat on the floor of the train car, sniffling, until someone entered the car at Dyckman Street. When she stood, she sat in the butt-indent that Hunk had occupied and crossed her hands in her lap, trying not to sob in public.
And then she noticed her ring was gone. Her vintage four-carat diamond ring, set in white gold and engraved with some name and date she didn't know. Her last memory of Robert. Gone. She looked for the glimmer of it on the floor of the car, but there was nothing. Hunk had clawed it off when he'd escaped.
Veronica rode the 1 all the way to South Ferry, where she got off and resurfaced, her head hanging and her chest aching. And then she looked up just long enough not to run into a wall and saw him, sitting on a bench with his nose buried in a book. All ruffled hair and bad boy leather jacket.
Her heart picked up a little. It shouldn't really be so difficult. | |
[WP] You are a terrible aspiring serial killer. Every time you try to kill, you incidentally make your "victim's" life exponentially better | Don was a lucky son of a bitch. I had him. I had him dead to rights, it couldn't have been more perfect. He was never supposed to walk away from his post-practice weightlifting session. Don is always the last person remaining in the weightroom after a long, thick, sweaty, musty, dripping lifting workout. Today was a day like all others.
Right on time, Don and the rest of the team make their way to the weightroom at 6:30. Their workout went as usual, Don was in full form tonight. It was clear why he was on the fast track to the pros; no one else even came close to matching his tenacity. The rest of the team was starting to filter out, and Don was still hard at work, and Don was completely alone by 8:00.
Don wrapped up his workout by 8:15, just in time to catch the bus that stays late for students coming out of the special education program. Don was frequently a mentor for the special needs students, and they all looked up to him due to his athletic successes. They loved hearing all of the stories that Don told, especially when we would talk about riding his Don train straight to the pros. In return for his mentoring, the school allowed Don to ride the late bus whenever he pleased. My time to shine was coming.
Even though I'm an aspiring serial killer, I'm not a monster. Don was safe when he was on the bus with all of those special needs children. Don and Jeffrey have a bit of a long walk after they get off at their bus stop. Don typically walks Jeffrey home when he rides the bus. Although he is fairly high functioning, Jeffrey's autism is severe enough that still needs to be taken care of at all times. Mr. and Mrs. Jeffrey were certainly appreciative whenever Don was able to walk their child home. Mrs Jeffrey in particular always showed the most appreciation. Her eyes could constantly be sen lingering towards Don's crotch whenever he was coming from his workouts. Those damp, sweaty, musky athletic shorts did not leave much to the immagination. Mrs Jeffrey could be described the same way as Don's shorts after she had finished her ogling sessions.
The time has come. Don escorts Jeffrey off of the bus and they begin the walk through their affluent neighborhood. I had already staged myself ahead of their route, so that I could intercept Don after he dropped Jeffrey off at his house and Mrs Jeffrey had gotten her fill of Don's clammy gym shorts.
As I watch Don and Jeffrey approaching, I hear a siren off in the distance. Sirens were very rare in this area due to the ten foot tall white cement wall surrounding the neighborhood, which did a great job of keeping criminals out of the neighborhood and keeping teenagers in the neighborhood that wanted to sneak away for a night. I go over all my plans in my head as the sirens seem to be growing louder and louder; could I have made a mistake somewhere? Did I slip up and mention my plans to the wrong person? No, I never told anyone. Did I write something down that could have been discovered? No, I never learned how to write. Did I post something on Facebook? No, and even if I did, I am my only friend on there. It is nice having 100% of my Facebook friends like and comment on everything that I post. Not even Don can say that. It was impossible for the sirens to be coming to me.
I had completely covered my tracks. As I reached this conclusion, I saw two police cars turn onto the road that Don and Jeffrey were walking down. I thought through all my options, but I decided to stay where I was. I hadn't done anything illegal, and I didn't have anything incriminating in my Jeep Wrangler. I got this. To my relief, and complete bewilderment, the police stop 15 yards short of Don and Jeffrey and order them to get to the ground over the loud speaker. Don got down and had his hands up, but Jeffrey couldn't comprehend the situation, so he just kept playing with the mouse in his pocket.
After a bunch of yelling back and forth, a shot rang out. It was so loud, even at my distance, it seemed like it could have been heard round the world. Everyone looks around when the smoke settles, and they see Don laying on the ground, blood streaming from his leg. This can't be. These lawless lone rangers can't deprive me of my first kill. After the medics arrive, they shout loud enough for me to hear that Don is sedated but stable as they are loading him into the back of their ambulance.
The police and paramedics were now focused on Jeffrey; they were all escorting him back to his house. This is my chance. I have a clear path to the ambulance. If anyone's killing Don, it's going to be me. I got to the ambulance and I had Don all to myself, but I had to be quick; the police could be back any minute. I quickly put on a pair of latex gloves so that I wouldn't leave any prints behind and I grabbed the nearest scalpel that I could find. I saw that Don's gunshot wound was on his leg, near an artery. I slashed at the artery, staying as close as I could to the gunshot wound.
Now that Don was bleeding again, I decided that my best course of action was to get as far away from the ambulance as I could. The returned to their truck and raced off to the hospital when they saw the "complications" on Don's injury. I found out later that I did not finish the job. Don survived, shit. At least Don's knee was injured from my scalpel slashes beyond the point of repair, so he would have no college sports to look forward to. A small prize for a big failure.
The years passed and no one ever seemed to suspect that I was responsible for Don's career ending injury. I was in the clear. But now we had graduated from high school and we were living on opposite sides of the country. I may never get Don. Even though Don had no chance of playing professional sports anymore, I would continue to hear about how well he was doing from the few friends that I stayed in contact with.
Don rebounded very well and re-focused all of his athletic energy onto education and entrepreneurial spirit. For the next 30-40 years, I would continue to hear bits and pieces of what Don was up to, and what business he was building at the time. It wasn't until 2016 when I really realized how tremendously my failed killing had backfired.
Donald's first major accomplishment after his injury was in his own neighborhood where he suffered both a gunshot and a scalpel slice in one day. Donald worked with the HOA and local government to tighten security at the entrance and exit gates so that only residents and their personal guests could pass through. Donald also looked at the 10 foot concrete wall surrounding the neighborhood and decided to build the wall 10 feet higher. Donald has since built many successful businesses in his lifetime, which allowed him to become one of the most wealthy men in the country.
Through all of his success, Donald still finds time to mentor special needs children once a week. They still love Donald and all of his stories, especially the stories about riding Don's train. Although now, Donald doesn't talk about riding Don's train to the pros. Donald now tells them stories about all of the wonderful people that have jumped on the TRUMP TRAIN going FULL STEAM AHEAD straight to the WHITE HOUSE!
It sounds like losing his ability to pursue an athletic career was the best thing that could have ever happened for both Donald and for The United States of America.
| It really shouldn't have been so difficult. If all the cute boys on TV managed to do it, why couldn't she? It was just a matter of...finding the right formula. If only she had been better at chemistry.
Veronica Tate crossed her arms and huffed, her eyes fixed on the hunk at the other end of the subway car. Oh, wasn't she just a complete sucker for a bookworm? And a bookworm with those muscles? That fashion sense? She could hardly wait to suck the life out of him and keep his memory in her pocket for ever and ever.
The train jerked to a halt at Columbus Circle and Hunk stood and offered his seat to an elderly woman who had just boarded. Veronica nearly swooned. It was all she could do not to go strangle him now.
Stations came and went, until they were nearing 238th Street, and Veronica and Hunk were alone in the car. It was her time to strike. She didn't stand from her seat, just scooched across the butt-indents of the bench until she was sitting directly in front of Hunk, who was absorbed in his book. *The Gentrification of the Mind*, it read. Veronica was impressed. She twisted her wedding ring on her finger, trying to build up the courage to do it. The way all the cute boys on TV had. She'd done it once before, hadn't she? As long as you squinted and turned your head a little.
She must have started breathing too hard, because Hunk glanced up at her and jumped when he realized her proximity.
"Um. Hello?" His brow furrowed in exactly the way Veronica imagined in her fantasies. And oh, what perfectly shaped brows.
"Hi." Her voice sounded squeaky and bright even to her own ears.
Hunk shook his head a little and kept on reading until Veronica bit her lip, made up her mind, and pounced on him. *The Gentrification of the Mind* went flying, and immediately her hands wrapped around Hunk's neck, just above his perfectly knotted tie. God, she had never seen a double windsor so tight. Robert had never been able to do that.
Her nails dug into his skin, and his hands clawed at hers. But Veronica, despite not being good at much, was a near perfect paragon of determination. She pressed and squeezed and put all her weight on Hunk's windpipe, grinning and trying to commit every last second of the moment to memory.
But then the train jolted again as it pulled into Van Cortlandt Park-242nd Street, just enough to throw her off balance, and Hunk tore her hands away from his neck. He was out the door and halfway down the platform before Veronica realized what had happened. With a pitiful sob, she reached for the book Hunk had left behind.
*The Gentrification of the Mind*. She flipped through a few pages and quickly understood her mistake. Straight men don't have muscles and fashion sense and eyebrows and tie knots. A formula right in front of her, spelled out in Hunk's reading materials.
Veronica sat on the floor of the train car, sniffling, until someone entered the car at Dyckman Street. When she stood, she sat in the butt-indent that Hunk had occupied and crossed her hands in her lap, trying not to sob in public.
And then she noticed her ring was gone. Her vintage four-carat diamond ring, set in white gold and engraved with some name and date she didn't know. Her last memory of Robert. Gone. She looked for the glimmer of it on the floor of the car, but there was nothing. Hunk had clawed it off when he'd escaped.
Veronica rode the 1 all the way to South Ferry, where she got off and resurfaced, her head hanging and her chest aching. And then she looked up just long enough not to run into a wall and saw him, sitting on a bench with his nose buried in a book. All ruffled hair and bad boy leather jacket.
Her heart picked up a little. It shouldn't really be so difficult. | |
[WP] You are a terrible aspiring serial killer. Every time you try to kill, you incidentally make your "victim's" life exponentially better | I breathed out carefully before pulling the trigger on the hunting rifle pointed at my target. This time it was a young man, John. He was around twenty-two years old and on his way to a bar to get drunk instead of studying for a final he'd been stressing for weeks over. I lined him up perfectly in my sights. Letting out all remaining air in my lungs, I hold my breath and pull the trigger and...
A pigeon flies in front of the bullet. Typical. The bird falls to the street, shattering the windshield of a passing car. The driver swerved into a fire hydrant, breaking the pipe and dousing John in frigid water. He stands shocked as the driver of the car, some lady I can't make out in the dark, runs to him to apologize. Dammit, not again. I Inhale angrily before throwing the gun into a non-functioning AC unit on the roof of some office building. Well, he's not going to go to the bar drenched on a chilly night like this. I've missed my opportunity again. Damn!
Alright this time there's no way I can fail. I broke into John's apartment earlier this week and figured out his work schedule: today he's getting off his job at a Subway at three o'clock in the afternoon. He's been in terrible shape lately and from some ramblings in his notebook it looks like he's on the brink of dropping out. Ah, here he comes! I throw a brick onto the acceleration pedal from a stolen truck and jump off the bed before it roars down the street in John's direction. No escape this time!
What the hell. The same lady that crashed into the hydrant tackled John before the car could run him over. Who does that? Doesn't she care about her own well being? Honestly it's these selfless people that are really letting our world go to the dogs. Oh great now he's crying into her shoulder. There's no way I'll be able to catch him alone, I recognize the lady from his sociology class. Argh, does everyone have this kind of trouble killing others?
Okay for real this time, there's no way that John's going to be able to survive. I carefully make my way through the crowd of people waiting for the metro train to arrive. Most are on their phones, lovely. They won't see what I'm about to do.
I pick my way towards John, who's attention is captured by his cellphone. He's standing close to the yellow line warning patrons to not get too close to the rails. Ah, I see the lights from the train at the end of the tunnel, coming closer. It hasn't sounded it's horn yet so nobody's paying too much attention. A quick glance to either side to make sure nobody's eyes are on John. Nope, he's just another in the crowd of people too focused on the little screens in their hand. The train's getting closer now. I break into a brisk walk and when I'm close enough I give John a sharp shove. He looses his balance just enough for me to hook his foot and send him sprawling onto the tracks below.
His screams alerted the crowd to his situation. Frantic chattering breaks out as they hear the train's horn blare, making it's presence known. There is no way that he can survive. Oh, what's this? There's some commotion in the middle of the crowd? One of the passengers is forcing their way to the front, and she looks... familiar. Oh no. It's the lady from the Subway. She jumps from the platform onto the tracks, the horrified onlookers screaming at her. The train is really close now, close enough to see the conductor frantically try and apply the breaks. It's too late, the train runs over the two lying at the rails. At long last, John's dead.
I breath a sigh of relief and follow the crowd to see what remains of my victim. Lying atop the tracks is the lady, her body covering Johns. Strange, they don't seem mangled for having a train pass over them. Maybe they electrocuted themselves? No wait... Ah. Not again! John and the lady shakily get to their feet and the crowd of onlookers claps and cheers at them. Suddenly John grabs the lady's face and passionately kisses her. The crowd's cheers increase in volume, now mixed with 'awws' at the display of affection.
I angrily storm off, not even bothering trying to hide my displeasure that John managed to survive. It's that lady I swear, she's out to get me. I fume as I make my way up the stairs of the metro and onto the street. But some person grabs me by the hood of my jacket and pulls me backwards. I turn to see who it could be, and it's a man from the metro's security team. Ah damn, I think he saw me. The officer pushes me to the floor and slaps a pair of handcuffs on my wrists. I'll get John eventually.
[I'm really new to this so all feedback and tips are welcome!] | It really shouldn't have been so difficult. If all the cute boys on TV managed to do it, why couldn't she? It was just a matter of...finding the right formula. If only she had been better at chemistry.
Veronica Tate crossed her arms and huffed, her eyes fixed on the hunk at the other end of the subway car. Oh, wasn't she just a complete sucker for a bookworm? And a bookworm with those muscles? That fashion sense? She could hardly wait to suck the life out of him and keep his memory in her pocket for ever and ever.
The train jerked to a halt at Columbus Circle and Hunk stood and offered his seat to an elderly woman who had just boarded. Veronica nearly swooned. It was all she could do not to go strangle him now.
Stations came and went, until they were nearing 238th Street, and Veronica and Hunk were alone in the car. It was her time to strike. She didn't stand from her seat, just scooched across the butt-indents of the bench until she was sitting directly in front of Hunk, who was absorbed in his book. *The Gentrification of the Mind*, it read. Veronica was impressed. She twisted her wedding ring on her finger, trying to build up the courage to do it. The way all the cute boys on TV had. She'd done it once before, hadn't she? As long as you squinted and turned your head a little.
She must have started breathing too hard, because Hunk glanced up at her and jumped when he realized her proximity.
"Um. Hello?" His brow furrowed in exactly the way Veronica imagined in her fantasies. And oh, what perfectly shaped brows.
"Hi." Her voice sounded squeaky and bright even to her own ears.
Hunk shook his head a little and kept on reading until Veronica bit her lip, made up her mind, and pounced on him. *The Gentrification of the Mind* went flying, and immediately her hands wrapped around Hunk's neck, just above his perfectly knotted tie. God, she had never seen a double windsor so tight. Robert had never been able to do that.
Her nails dug into his skin, and his hands clawed at hers. But Veronica, despite not being good at much, was a near perfect paragon of determination. She pressed and squeezed and put all her weight on Hunk's windpipe, grinning and trying to commit every last second of the moment to memory.
But then the train jolted again as it pulled into Van Cortlandt Park-242nd Street, just enough to throw her off balance, and Hunk tore her hands away from his neck. He was out the door and halfway down the platform before Veronica realized what had happened. With a pitiful sob, she reached for the book Hunk had left behind.
*The Gentrification of the Mind*. She flipped through a few pages and quickly understood her mistake. Straight men don't have muscles and fashion sense and eyebrows and tie knots. A formula right in front of her, spelled out in Hunk's reading materials.
Veronica sat on the floor of the train car, sniffling, until someone entered the car at Dyckman Street. When she stood, she sat in the butt-indent that Hunk had occupied and crossed her hands in her lap, trying not to sob in public.
And then she noticed her ring was gone. Her vintage four-carat diamond ring, set in white gold and engraved with some name and date she didn't know. Her last memory of Robert. Gone. She looked for the glimmer of it on the floor of the car, but there was nothing. Hunk had clawed it off when he'd escaped.
Veronica rode the 1 all the way to South Ferry, where she got off and resurfaced, her head hanging and her chest aching. And then she looked up just long enough not to run into a wall and saw him, sitting on a bench with his nose buried in a book. All ruffled hair and bad boy leather jacket.
Her heart picked up a little. It shouldn't really be so difficult. | |
[WP] You are a terrible aspiring serial killer. Every time you try to kill, you incidentally make your "victim's" life exponentially better | Don was a lucky son of a bitch. I had him. I had him dead to rights, it couldn't have been more perfect. He was never supposed to walk away from his post-practice weightlifting session. Don is always the last person remaining in the weightroom after a long, thick, sweaty, musty, dripping lifting workout. Today was a day like all others.
Right on time, Don and the rest of the team make their way to the weightroom at 6:30. Their workout went as usual, Don was in full form tonight. It was clear why he was on the fast track to the pros; no one else even came close to matching his tenacity. The rest of the team was starting to filter out, and Don was still hard at work, and Don was completely alone by 8:00.
Don wrapped up his workout by 8:15, just in time to catch the bus that stays late for students coming out of the special education program. Don was frequently a mentor for the special needs students, and they all looked up to him due to his athletic successes. They loved hearing all of the stories that Don told, especially when we would talk about riding his Don train straight to the pros. In return for his mentoring, the school allowed Don to ride the late bus whenever he pleased. My time to shine was coming.
Even though I'm an aspiring serial killer, I'm not a monster. Don was safe when he was on the bus with all of those special needs children. Don and Jeffrey have a bit of a long walk after they get off at their bus stop. Don typically walks Jeffrey home when he rides the bus. Although he is fairly high functioning, Jeffrey's autism is severe enough that still needs to be taken care of at all times. Mr. and Mrs. Jeffrey were certainly appreciative whenever Don was able to walk their child home. Mrs Jeffrey in particular always showed the most appreciation. Her eyes could constantly be sen lingering towards Don's crotch whenever he was coming from his workouts. Those damp, sweaty, musky athletic shorts did not leave much to the immagination. Mrs Jeffrey could be described the same way as Don's shorts after she had finished her ogling sessions.
The time has come. Don escorts Jeffrey off of the bus and they begin the walk through their affluent neighborhood. I had already staged myself ahead of their route, so that I could intercept Don after he dropped Jeffrey off at his house and Mrs Jeffrey had gotten her fill of Don's clammy gym shorts.
As I watch Don and Jeffrey approaching, I hear a siren off in the distance. Sirens were very rare in this area due to the ten foot tall white cement wall surrounding the neighborhood, which did a great job of keeping criminals out of the neighborhood and keeping teenagers in the neighborhood that wanted to sneak away for a night. I go over all my plans in my head as the sirens seem to be growing louder and louder; could I have made a mistake somewhere? Did I slip up and mention my plans to the wrong person? No, I never told anyone. Did I write something down that could have been discovered? No, I never learned how to write. Did I post something on Facebook? No, and even if I did, I am my only friend on there. It is nice having 100% of my Facebook friends like and comment on everything that I post. Not even Don can say that. It was impossible for the sirens to be coming to me.
I had completely covered my tracks. As I reached this conclusion, I saw two police cars turn onto the road that Don and Jeffrey were walking down. I thought through all my options, but I decided to stay where I was. I hadn't done anything illegal, and I didn't have anything incriminating in my Jeep Wrangler. I got this. To my relief, and complete bewilderment, the police stop 15 yards short of Don and Jeffrey and order them to get to the ground over the loud speaker. Don got down and had his hands up, but Jeffrey couldn't comprehend the situation, so he just kept playing with the mouse in his pocket.
After a bunch of yelling back and forth, a shot rang out. It was so loud, even at my distance, it seemed like it could have been heard round the world. Everyone looks around when the smoke settles, and they see Don laying on the ground, blood streaming from his leg. This can't be. These lawless lone rangers can't deprive me of my first kill. After the medics arrive, they shout loud enough for me to hear that Don is sedated but stable as they are loading him into the back of their ambulance.
The police and paramedics were now focused on Jeffrey; they were all escorting him back to his house. This is my chance. I have a clear path to the ambulance. If anyone's killing Don, it's going to be me. I got to the ambulance and I had Don all to myself, but I had to be quick; the police could be back any minute. I quickly put on a pair of latex gloves so that I wouldn't leave any prints behind and I grabbed the nearest scalpel that I could find. I saw that Don's gunshot wound was on his leg, near an artery. I slashed at the artery, staying as close as I could to the gunshot wound.
Now that Don was bleeding again, I decided that my best course of action was to get as far away from the ambulance as I could. The returned to their truck and raced off to the hospital when they saw the "complications" on Don's injury. I found out later that I did not finish the job. Don survived, shit. At least Don's knee was injured from my scalpel slashes beyond the point of repair, so he would have no college sports to look forward to. A small prize for a big failure.
The years passed and no one ever seemed to suspect that I was responsible for Don's career ending injury. I was in the clear. But now we had graduated from high school and we were living on opposite sides of the country. I may never get Don. Even though Don had no chance of playing professional sports anymore, I would continue to hear about how well he was doing from the few friends that I stayed in contact with.
Don rebounded very well and re-focused all of his athletic energy onto education and entrepreneurial spirit. For the next 30-40 years, I would continue to hear bits and pieces of what Don was up to, and what business he was building at the time. It wasn't until 2016 when I really realized how tremendously my failed killing had backfired.
Donald's first major accomplishment after his injury was in his own neighborhood where he suffered both a gunshot and a scalpel slice in one day. Donald worked with the HOA and local government to tighten security at the entrance and exit gates so that only residents and their personal guests could pass through. Donald also looked at the 10 foot concrete wall surrounding the neighborhood and decided to build the wall 10 feet higher. Donald has since built many successful businesses in his lifetime, which allowed him to become one of the most wealthy men in the country.
Through all of his success, Donald still finds time to mentor special needs children once a week. They still love Donald and all of his stories, especially the stories about riding Don's train. Although now, Donald doesn't talk about riding Don's train to the pros. Donald now tells them stories about all of the wonderful people that have jumped on the TRUMP TRAIN going FULL STEAM AHEAD straight to the WHITE HOUSE!
It sounds like losing his ability to pursue an athletic career was the best thing that could have ever happened for both Donald and for The United States of America.
| *Finally!* thought Samantha, *An opening.*
She had been waiting months for this. Planning it perfectly, preparing for every possible outcome. It was all coming together to a brilliant pinnacle. But then again, no one can think of everything.
She had been trailing her target, Gabe Lawson, for almost half a year now on thursdays, when she had time off from work. It was only in the past couple of months, however, that she had gotten confident enough in her stealth to follow him into the backroads of the desert where no one else would be around for miles. To follow him to where he leaves the bodies of his own victims--the prostitutes he picks up from the shadier streets in Huston. By now, she knew every nook and cranny of his routine.
Sam fancied herself a real-life Dexter Morgan--avenging the spirits of those whom died at the hands of evil people. Unlike Dexter, however, she wasn't a sociopath. She could feel empathy for most people, just not other serial killers.
'Other serial killers' may be a bit misleading, though. Sam had only killed two other people, the man who killed her sister and his partner (also a murderer), so she wasn't technically a serial killer yet. As Criminal Minds says, you need to kill three people to be a serial killer. After tonight, that would be Sam's new label.
Sam lay flat against the top of a nearby boulder and watched as Gabe exited his van. She lined up the shot with her semi-automatic rifle--legally purchased in her home state of good ol' Texas.
She carefully position the crosshairs on his chest and just as she squeezed the trigger--*CLANG!*
What just happened? Gabe was still standing, but how? There was no wind, and Sam was an excellent shot, what had gone wrong?
Suddenly, she saw it. There, across the street from her, atop the other boulder, was a man. A man who had *his* semi-automatic rifle aimed at Gabe. A man who was also looking insanely confused. It must have happened that *both* Sam and the man had shot at Gabe at the exact same time and aimed for the exact same spot and the bullets had bounced off against each other.
Gabe had dived for the van as soon as he had heard the gunfire. Despite Sam and the mystery man both firing at him as he drove, neither managed a good hit.
Sam climbed down from her perch, as did the man. He shouted over at Sam to come over. Weary, she told him to ditch the gun. He smiled good-naturedly and tossed it over into some shrubs a few yards away. Sam did the same.
"I'm Kyle," the man said, "I know why you were here. I've seen you following that guy around for weeks, it piqued my interest. I decided to follow him one day, to see why you were doing it, and I saw him walk into his shed with a girl and out with a rolled up carpet. Doesn't take a genius to solve that puzzle. Didn't know you'd be out here tonight, though. Funny how both of us trying to kill him is what saved him."
Sam smiled. It was kind of funny, she supposed. Or ironic at least.
"He won't get away next time, though, will he?" asked Kyle.
"No," answered Sam, "Next time we'll coordinate." | |
[WP] You are a terrible aspiring serial killer. Every time you try to kill, you incidentally make your "victim's" life exponentially better | Don was a lucky son of a bitch. I had him. I had him dead to rights, it couldn't have been more perfect. He was never supposed to walk away from his post-practice weightlifting session. Don is always the last person remaining in the weightroom after a long, thick, sweaty, musty, dripping lifting workout. Today was a day like all others.
Right on time, Don and the rest of the team make their way to the weightroom at 6:30. Their workout went as usual, Don was in full form tonight. It was clear why he was on the fast track to the pros; no one else even came close to matching his tenacity. The rest of the team was starting to filter out, and Don was still hard at work, and Don was completely alone by 8:00.
Don wrapped up his workout by 8:15, just in time to catch the bus that stays late for students coming out of the special education program. Don was frequently a mentor for the special needs students, and they all looked up to him due to his athletic successes. They loved hearing all of the stories that Don told, especially when we would talk about riding his Don train straight to the pros. In return for his mentoring, the school allowed Don to ride the late bus whenever he pleased. My time to shine was coming.
Even though I'm an aspiring serial killer, I'm not a monster. Don was safe when he was on the bus with all of those special needs children. Don and Jeffrey have a bit of a long walk after they get off at their bus stop. Don typically walks Jeffrey home when he rides the bus. Although he is fairly high functioning, Jeffrey's autism is severe enough that still needs to be taken care of at all times. Mr. and Mrs. Jeffrey were certainly appreciative whenever Don was able to walk their child home. Mrs Jeffrey in particular always showed the most appreciation. Her eyes could constantly be sen lingering towards Don's crotch whenever he was coming from his workouts. Those damp, sweaty, musky athletic shorts did not leave much to the immagination. Mrs Jeffrey could be described the same way as Don's shorts after she had finished her ogling sessions.
The time has come. Don escorts Jeffrey off of the bus and they begin the walk through their affluent neighborhood. I had already staged myself ahead of their route, so that I could intercept Don after he dropped Jeffrey off at his house and Mrs Jeffrey had gotten her fill of Don's clammy gym shorts.
As I watch Don and Jeffrey approaching, I hear a siren off in the distance. Sirens were very rare in this area due to the ten foot tall white cement wall surrounding the neighborhood, which did a great job of keeping criminals out of the neighborhood and keeping teenagers in the neighborhood that wanted to sneak away for a night. I go over all my plans in my head as the sirens seem to be growing louder and louder; could I have made a mistake somewhere? Did I slip up and mention my plans to the wrong person? No, I never told anyone. Did I write something down that could have been discovered? No, I never learned how to write. Did I post something on Facebook? No, and even if I did, I am my only friend on there. It is nice having 100% of my Facebook friends like and comment on everything that I post. Not even Don can say that. It was impossible for the sirens to be coming to me.
I had completely covered my tracks. As I reached this conclusion, I saw two police cars turn onto the road that Don and Jeffrey were walking down. I thought through all my options, but I decided to stay where I was. I hadn't done anything illegal, and I didn't have anything incriminating in my Jeep Wrangler. I got this. To my relief, and complete bewilderment, the police stop 15 yards short of Don and Jeffrey and order them to get to the ground over the loud speaker. Don got down and had his hands up, but Jeffrey couldn't comprehend the situation, so he just kept playing with the mouse in his pocket.
After a bunch of yelling back and forth, a shot rang out. It was so loud, even at my distance, it seemed like it could have been heard round the world. Everyone looks around when the smoke settles, and they see Don laying on the ground, blood streaming from his leg. This can't be. These lawless lone rangers can't deprive me of my first kill. After the medics arrive, they shout loud enough for me to hear that Don is sedated but stable as they are loading him into the back of their ambulance.
The police and paramedics were now focused on Jeffrey; they were all escorting him back to his house. This is my chance. I have a clear path to the ambulance. If anyone's killing Don, it's going to be me. I got to the ambulance and I had Don all to myself, but I had to be quick; the police could be back any minute. I quickly put on a pair of latex gloves so that I wouldn't leave any prints behind and I grabbed the nearest scalpel that I could find. I saw that Don's gunshot wound was on his leg, near an artery. I slashed at the artery, staying as close as I could to the gunshot wound.
Now that Don was bleeding again, I decided that my best course of action was to get as far away from the ambulance as I could. The returned to their truck and raced off to the hospital when they saw the "complications" on Don's injury. I found out later that I did not finish the job. Don survived, shit. At least Don's knee was injured from my scalpel slashes beyond the point of repair, so he would have no college sports to look forward to. A small prize for a big failure.
The years passed and no one ever seemed to suspect that I was responsible for Don's career ending injury. I was in the clear. But now we had graduated from high school and we were living on opposite sides of the country. I may never get Don. Even though Don had no chance of playing professional sports anymore, I would continue to hear about how well he was doing from the few friends that I stayed in contact with.
Don rebounded very well and re-focused all of his athletic energy onto education and entrepreneurial spirit. For the next 30-40 years, I would continue to hear bits and pieces of what Don was up to, and what business he was building at the time. It wasn't until 2016 when I really realized how tremendously my failed killing had backfired.
Donald's first major accomplishment after his injury was in his own neighborhood where he suffered both a gunshot and a scalpel slice in one day. Donald worked with the HOA and local government to tighten security at the entrance and exit gates so that only residents and their personal guests could pass through. Donald also looked at the 10 foot concrete wall surrounding the neighborhood and decided to build the wall 10 feet higher. Donald has since built many successful businesses in his lifetime, which allowed him to become one of the most wealthy men in the country.
Through all of his success, Donald still finds time to mentor special needs children once a week. They still love Donald and all of his stories, especially the stories about riding Don's train. Although now, Donald doesn't talk about riding Don's train to the pros. Donald now tells them stories about all of the wonderful people that have jumped on the TRUMP TRAIN going FULL STEAM AHEAD straight to the WHITE HOUSE!
It sounds like losing his ability to pursue an athletic career was the best thing that could have ever happened for both Donald and for The United States of America.
| Note: This Story is dark. Very dark. Think of Stephen King or Dean Koontz (before Koontz became obsessed with dogs saving the universe and everyone lives happily ever after).
There is bad language, and not everyone lives a happy and healthy life. I hate the word "triggered" for it's use on the internet all the time, but there is legitimately stuff on here that may bring back unwanted thoughts or memories.
This may be too much of a warning, and growing up reading Stephen King, Clive Barker, etc... it's not that big of a deal for me, but I wanted to make it known beforehand what you are in for in case you want to skip this one. It is also pretty long.
__________________________________________
James watched through the window as the woman walked into the other room, crying into the phone. He knew from weeks of monitoring her that she wasn't talking to a boyfriend, and he didn't think she had any family to speak of, so maybe a friend. No difference. He was prepared, had what he needed, and he had decided. Tonight was the night.
~~~
Monica was alone in the house pacing through the various empty rooms, crying into the phone. Bawling really. She wasn't even really sure why, *it* was just worse today. Over the past few weeks? Months?
"I can't even keep my fucking days straight!" she sobbed into the phone with the calm voice on the other line trying it's best to soothe her; calm her down and possibly bring her back from the gulf Monica had entered.
Continuing to pace, she walked throughout the rooms without a sense of purpose when she heard a noise from downstairs.
~~~
Monica had gone upstairs a few seconds ago, so now was the perfect time. On a previous visit James had left a window unlocked so that he could get in quickly and easily. He broke the window last time, but hoped that in her fragile state Monica would blame it on those kids that always play baseball in the street. One foul ball hit her window, broke it pretty good, and the boys were too scared to come get the baseball. He wasn't sure if he had actually left a baseball by the window or not, but it's too late to worry about that now. Everyone makes mistakes on their first time.
James walked over a few yard to the kitchen window that she never checked the lock on and slowly lifted it open. At least he tried to. 'The bitch finally noticed it was unlocked, after all this time!' he wanted to scream, 'it has been unlocked for over three weeks, and TONIGHT of all nights she locks it!?'. He could have killed her he was so pissed off.
James got the carving knife out of his bag and with no hope, and tried to pry the window open. Just as he suspected, the window didn't budge and James was pissed. This was not going as he had planned! He took a cloth out of his bag.
"Thankfully I'm not too mad to forget to wear that friggin' cloth or my blood would be everywhere" he grumbled to himself and punched the window with his cloth covered hand. Not hard enough for the glass to reach his arm and draw blood, but hard enough to make it a little quieter for him to break the rest of the glass. James continued breaking the glass carefully until he could reach the window lock safely.
~~~
"I said shut up!" Monica whispered harshly into the phone, the person on the other end letting out an unintended gasp.
Monica listened for any other noises, especially coming from the direction she thought she heard the first noise. So far, nothing.
"Look," Monica said into the phone, "I thought I heard a noise, but I think that's my fucking imagination too. The meds aren't working anymore. I know that for a fact. I have no friends, no life, and NO. FUCKING. THING. TO LIVE FOR!" She screamed these words into the phone as loud as she could before throwing the phone across the room, shattering it's glass face and spilling it's innards along the floor.
Continuing to sob, she went to nightstand and got the revolver her father had given her. The one thing she kept from that bastard, because no one would force themselves on her again. Not when she had a gun. 'Ironic in multiple ways,' she thought. 'Ironic that I've kept *this* gun that I got from my rapist father to protect me, and ironic that I think I might use this same gun to kill myself tonight'. She hefted it's weight in her hand and laughed bitterly.
~~~
James reached in and unlocked the window, careful of the broken glass around his uncovered arm. He couldn't hear much from Monica, but thought he could hear creaks and groans from her footsteps upstairs as she paced. 'That's a good sign' he thought as he slowly pushed open the window and climbed inside. All of the lights in the house seemed to be on, but that wasn't unusual, especially as of late. Monica seemed to be manic, or on drugs, either way James didn't care as it helped his cause. 'If she somehow lived, who would believe this crazy bitch when she told her story? Plus, she wouldn't be able to recognize my face, or body type, any of that with how cracked out she is' he thought.
After James made it inside, he pulled the carving knife out of his bag again. He didn't expect any trouble, and he had always fantasized about doing the killing up close. Much more personal than a gun. James had the whole thing planned out in his head and went over it all as he started up the stairs, listening for Monica's pacing or voice as he went. Upstairs the floor was creaking and groaning with her footsteps, and James could just make out Monica's voice.
James watched through the window as the woman walked into the other room, crying into the phone. He knew from weeks of monitoring her that she wasn't talking to a boyfriend, and he didn't think she had any family to speak of, so maybe a friend. No difference. He was prepared, had what he needed, and he had decided. Tonight was the night.
~~~
Monica was alone in the house pacing through the various empty rooms, crying into the phone. Bawling really. She wasn't even really sure why, *it* was just worse today. Over the past few weeks? Months?
"I can't even keep my fucking days straight!" she sobbed into the phone with the calm voice on the other line trying it's best to soothe her; calm her down and possibly bring her back from the gulf Monica had entered.
Continuing to pace, she walked throughout the rooms without a sense of purpose when she heard a noise from downstairs.
~~~
Monica had gone upstairs a few seconds ago, so now was the perfect time. On a previous visit James had left a window unlocked so that he could get in quickly and easily. He broke the window last time, but hoped that in her fragile state Monica would blame it on those kids that always play baseball in the street. One foul ball hit her window, broke it pretty good, and the boys were too scared to come get the baseball. He wasn't sure if he had actually left a baseball by the window or not, but it's too late to worry about that now. Everyone makes mistakes on their first time.
James walked over a few yard to the kitchen window that she never checked the lock on and slowly lifted it open. At least he tried to. 'The bitch finally noticed it was unlocked, after all this time!' he wanted to scream, 'it has been unlocked for over three weeks, and TONIGHT of all nights she locks it!?'. He could have killed her he was so pissed off.
James got the carving knife out of his bag and with no hope, and tried to pry the window open. Just as he suspected, the window didn't budge and James was pissed. This was not going as he had planned! He took a cloth out of his bag.
"Thankfully I'm not too mad to forget to wear that friggin' cloth or my blood would be everywhere" he grumbled to himself and punched the window with his cloth covered hand. Not hard enough for the glass to reach his arm and draw blood, but hard enough to make it a little quieter for him to break the rest of the glass. James continued breaking the glass carefully until he could reach the window lock safely.
~~~
"I said shut up!" Monica whispered harshly into the phone, the person on the other end letting out an unintended gasp.
Monica listened for any other noises, especially coming from the direction she thought she heard the first noise. So far, nothing.
"Look," Monica said into the phone, "I thought I heard a noise, but I think that's my fucking imagination too. The meds aren't working anymore. I know that for a fact. I have no friends, no life, and NO. FUCKING. THING. TO LIVE FOR!" She screamed these words into the phone as loud as she could before throwing the phone across the room, shattering it's glass face and spilling it's innards along the floor.
Continuing to sob, she went to nightstand and got the revolver her father had given her. The one thing she kept from that bastard, because no one would force themselves on her again. Not when she had a gun. 'Ironic in multiple ways,' she thought. 'Ironic that I've kept *this* gun that I got from my rapist father to protect me, and ironic that I think I might use this same gun to kill myself tonight'. She hefted it's weight in her hand and laughed bitterly.
_________________________________________________________________________________
Part 1 of 3
| |
[Inspired by this post.](https://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/1iwylh/what_is_the_best_horror_story_you_can_come_up/cbbbhr1) | [WP] After a botched eye surgery, you are only able to see heat signatures, as if looking through a thermographic camera. You return home to find your friend is room temperature. | I wish I could say everything I’ve learned since the surgery has been humourous. So much of it has. Cindy believes she’s the master of secret farts. She leans slightly to the left and a bright red cloud squeezes out and rolls up her backside. Frank was no surprise; the quantity and volume of his flatulence have been legendary in our circle of friends for years. The only surprising piece has been how quickly the cloud emanating from his posterior fills the room. My cat Sophie’s litter box becomes a glowing orange radioactive pit any time she pees. I’ll admit, I’ve been a lot better about cleaning it ever since. When you see with thermal vision, and bodily functions are so closely tied to warm temperatures, you tend to become obsessed with the topic.
I’ve also learned a lot about the relationship dynamics in our group. It’s not hard when you can visibly see people get excited and flushed with warm blood in their nether regions. As I suspected, Sarah is in love with Joseph, or at the very least wants to jump his bones. Joseph, on the other hand, is strangely in love with Frank, but isn’t ready to come out of the closet it seems. I don’t know why he’s so reticent to admit it to the group, but it explains why he hasn’t had a girlfriend in over five years.
For the most part, it’s turned everyone I know into giant walking mood rings. Their current moods and excitement levels visible as giant walking blobs of colors. Up until last week, I thought the worst was visiting my mother and learning how exactly hot flashes works as a far deeper lesson in anatomy than I ever wanted.
Amusing insights into my friends aside, it’s made the rest of my life more difficult. Any kind of display screen is almost incomprehensible to me. Just a warm blur of LEDs without color. Books are legible, if I catch them in just the right light to warm the letters enough to get a bit of contrast. Driving is impossible, I have to take the bus everywhere now. And then there’s my roommate.
I thought he was still overseas, House was clean, nothing changed in the fridge save for what I ate. I never heard anything nor saw him. Until yesterday when I almost sat down on him while he was on the toilet.
“What the hell are you doing?” His voice called from the ether.
The hell am I doing? Where the hell are you? I sucked up a lungful of air, and breathed slowly. I watched my warm breath roll out like a fog and reveal his form squatting on the can. The first time I figured out this trick, I felt like Daredevil. That day, I felt like a dipshit wheezing my roommate Sam into view.
Lately, I’ve been trying to figure out how to track him and why the hell he has no heat signature. I thought about using the hair dryer to create a view for me, but that would be too noisy, too cumbersome. I got a pack of those hand warmers and tossed them out on the floor, thinking they’d work like beacons on the floor. It kind of worked. When he tripped on one, I heard him right away from his cursing.
Next I tried setting the thermostat to max AC and alternately max heating. I only accomplished freezing and sweating my balls off while he remained devilishly hidden and the same temperature as the room.
Finally I figured out that I could use a laser pointer very effectively to see forms, painting them like a target in war. I fastened several of them to a headband and started stalking him around the house. I’ve learned that he doesn’t eat, doesn’t sleep, and generally doesn’t leave the house at all.
It’s 3am now and Sam’s been in his room talking to himself for over an hour. I can’t sleep listening to that noise, so I have to know more. Cautiously, carefully, I crack open the door. He’s sitting by some kind of giant radio apparatus. When the hell did he install that? Saying he’s talking isn’t quite right either. It’s more of a guttural, clicking noise.
His talking ceases and his head slowly turns my direction. Too late! He’s seen me. I fall backwards, stumbling away from the door. Faster than I’ve seen anyone move, he runs up on me. So fast that he actually turns bright red from the friction of moving through the air. His hand grasps my neck and locks shut, squeezing my windpipe until I can only just barely breathe. His eyes are just inches from mine. He’s so close I can’t see with the aid of the laser pointers anymore, but I can see my breath curling up and rising across his face. He tilts his head slowly back and forth, surveying me like a cat about to eat a mouse.
“Your eyes… they’re different now. Explain.”
I choke out the words, explained the thermal vision.
“Interesting. I must look very strange to you then.”
I demand that he tell me why he looks different. That’s a foolish demand. He flexes his thumb slightly, cutting off the last of my air. The world starts to fade from view.
He relaxes his grip enough that I can breath and fresh blood flushes my head bringing me back to the world of the conscious. My head is still locked still in his grip. He leans in close to my ear and begins speaking. I notice that there’s no breath coming from his mouth.
“I’ll make you a deal, human. I’ll let you live. In exchange, if you ever meet another person like me. Someone that you can’t see normally, has no heat, you tell me right away. If anyone comes here looking for me in particular, tell them I’ve left for the day and will be back soon. Tell me this right away, and I will reward you handsomely by allowing you to live.”
He lets go of my neck and returns to his room, closing the door softly.
I lay on the floor, enjoying my ability to breathe again. My nose becomes cold, and wet. It hurts to even try, but I exhale a hot breath to see what’s going on. My cat is licking my nose in sympathy, but I can’t see her otherwise. Sophie has become thermally invisible, just like my roommate.
Now what, do I tell him?
| The practice hired a car for me. Something about not wanting me to drive with the “side effects” from the surgery. I’m sure they had my best interests at heart, not the upcoming massive lawsuit I was sure to win.
“Do you know where you’re going? I’m not in the best position to give you directions.”
The driver’s orange arm tapped a red box on the cool green center console. “GPS.”
I’ve had terrible vision since I was a kid. You know those babies with the ridiculous wraparound plastic glasses? Yeah, that was me. It was a relief in middle school when my parents finally let me get the more expensive thinner kind of glasses. Try walking around with lenses sticking out farther than your nose and see how far that gets you in the world of middle school girls. In high school, I finally saved up and got contacts. Life changing. Well, except at night and at the pool. Still, I’d gotten into a good relationship, made it through college with normal social experiences, and all in all, gotten my life in focus. So to speak.
“Are we there yet?” I stared at the blue waves of air-conditioned air passing through my red fingers. Trippy. I closed my eyes.
When my eyes started gumming up a few months ago, I tried to ignore it. Not to be too gross, but I had to hold a wet washcloth to my face some mornings to loosen the crud enough to open my eyes. Sickening. It was like a preview of being blind. After years of wearing contacts, I’d developed an allergy to them. Apparently it’s pretty common, and, apparently, the doc switches you to a new brand and your fine. Not me.
So I looked into laser surgery. Not a candidate, the first three doctors told me. My vision was too bad and something about the thinness of my cornea, I don’t really know. In the waiting room of the last doc, this guy in a suit and sunglasses slipped me a card. I shouldn’t have called the number on it, but I did. He was wearing sunglasses inside – that should’ve been my first hint that something was off.
“Miss, which entrance is yours?”
I guess we were at my apartment complex. I didn’t even open my eyes. “Follow the road around the back. It’s the building across from the recycling dumpster things.”
If suit and sunglasses guy didn’t scare me, the office should have. The building had glass walls and looked like a standard corporate building. The sign by the elevator indicated a ton of different medical practices in the building, but not the name on the card they gave me. I went into the elevator, and pressed the button the receptionist had told be about on the phone. B2. Some kind of sub-basement, one floor lower than radiology. Creepy experiments are always done in basements.
All I wanted was normal vision. To wake up at night and be able to read the numbers on my alarm clock. To fricking see the hair on my legs in the shower so I could shave it off. Small things. Everyday things. So why did I let them talk me into checking off the box marked, “enhanced”?
“We’re here. Would you like me to walk you up?”
I opened my eyes and looked out the window. Red blobs bobbed on a red-brown river before a series of purple buildings. I couldn’t get used to this. It was too weird. I closed my eyes again, “yes, please,” and let the driver lead me up to my apartment as though we were playing a game of blind man’s bluff. And I guess we kinda were.
They’d told me I’d have eyes better than Tiger Woods after his surgery. Better than 20/20, able to see details no one else could. A tiny white ball on a big green golf course – psht, that was nothing. The doctor clapped his orange hands in glee after he was done. Red hot breath poured out of his yellowy mouth as he shouted his success.
I was confused. I didn’t understand what I was looking at, or why everyone appeared to be on fire. I didn’t expect that “better than 20/20” meant “completely different from other humans.” I went off as the doctor tried to explain something about thermographic imaging. I flung a cold blue scalpel at his Oompa Loompa face. That’s when they ordered me the car. And a sedative.
The driver talked to my roommate in hushed tones in the next room when we got there. I don’t know how much he told her. Probably to expect the military to drop by and pick me up as their new secret weapon.
“Goodbye, miss,” he tipped his green hat to me and left me.
I groaned in frustration.
“You okay?” Jen, my roommate asked from somewhere.
I looked around, blindly, unable to spot the colorful figure of another person in the room. “No I’m not okay. They botched the surgery and I don’t know if I can live seeing like this,” I shouted, unsure of where she was.
“You don’t need to yell.” I felt a warm hand on my arm, and jumped about a foot. I squinted, and could barely discern the outline of a person next to me. I backed up towards the door.
“Ha – didn’t see you there. But enough about me. How are you? How are you feeling? Doing okay? Feeling sick at all? Normal? Person-like?”
She didn’t look person-like to my new eyes. I’d been able to see the doctor, the driver, other people in their environments. Their personal rainbows stood out against the ambient temperature. Jen disappeared into the kaleidoscope of color in the room, like some kind of thermo-chameleon.
“I’m fine,” the Jen outline seemed puzzled and maybe a little sinister. “How’d they botch it? Can you see me at all? How do I look to you?”
“Hot?” It was more of a question than an answer.
“This is a new dress, but I’m sure I look terrible.”
I heard rather than saw her flop down on the couch.
“I feel like I'm melting. I’m surprised you’re able to stand, especially after your surgery. The AC’s been out all day and I can’t stand this million degree heat anymore. It’s exhausting.”
“It is warm in here,” I said, hoping that was the explanation for Jen’s weird appearance. It was warm, but was it 98.6 degrees warm?
“Are you looking at me? That guy said you had some side effects but you seem like you can’t even see me.”
“Yeah, things look a little weird. I’m really tired, though. Maybe I’ll go lay down. Maybe I’ll see a little more clearly when I wake up.”
“Sounds great. You need help?”
“No, no, I’m fine.” I reached a hand out and felt along the wall to get to my room. “I gotta get used to this.”
“Sure,” Jen said. “I’ll call the super about the air, and when you wake up, you can tell me exactly what you see.”
I shut my bedroom door behind me and pulled my phone out of my purse. I double tapped the center button and whispered the voice command, “Call Mom.”
Voicemail.
“Hey Mom, can you call me back when you have a chance, or maybe just come by? Yeah, come by -- that would be better. And before you do, can you do a quick search for thermographic imaging so you can tell me about it? Thanks. Love you.”
I pressed my thumb all along the bottom of the glass screen to make sure I hung up.
“I thought so,” I heard, before my yellow-orange-red world went black.
|
[WP] You and your wife possess to power of teleportation. The plane you are both in is about to crash and your daughter, who does not have that power, is with you. | I looked at the sleeping woman next to me, her blue and green hair in a pixie cut and her glasses slid down her nose. We never tried to make Hserle feel like a disappointment, but of course, we felt like it. Two of the strongest teleporters in the world, and their child is powerless. I mean, sure, she had other things going for her, she was charming, bright and athletic, but that alone does not make you a superhero. Fortunately, she didn't care about superheroics but instead wanted to go to uni to study law to be a defense attorney. I was not happy that the people we would bring to justice would be defended by our very own daughter, but we tried not to let it show. Yes, she was her own person and had to make her own choices and none of the choices were particularly bad - for someone who was not our daughter. Just the fact that our daughter made them hurt a bit.
Sure, we culd have teleported over to Ulanbataar, but we have one issue too many with their immigration authority already. And that way, Hsen could come with us. She seemed happy by this and planned her own trip to Bishkek afterwards. My husband Tli either checked his notes or played a game on his tablet. The plane started shaking slightly. I tried to ignore it. Pretended not to be annoyed by the moving and shaking. It got worse and the signs indicated to wear seatbelts. There was a loud bang, then the plane started descending fast. A voice called from the intercom: "This is your captain speaking, we are experiencing..." a pause, a scream, cut off, then silence. Hserle yawned. "'s happen?" she asked, sleepily.
I replied: "We don't know. Doesn't look good."
"Good thing both of you can get out, eh?" she said. A few rows behind us, a baby started screaming.
"Hserle!" Tli shouted. Not that Hserle was wrong. Teleportation does not allow you to bring anything but your own naked body.
Hserle looked forward with a distant impression, didn't say a thing. To in the front of the plane, a couple started fighting with each other verbally. She seemed to have been against the trip and held these issues against her husband. Another baby joined into the screaming chorus of the first one. "It is true. If this plane does crash, you need to save your own skin. Otherwise, there is no difference but two more casualties." Someone started crying, someone else tried to soothe him.
"You have thought about this already?" I asked Hserle in confusion.
"Sure. You have not? I have thought about this since the first flight." A particular strong turbulence made people shout in surprise and pain while Hserle continued speaking slowly and measuredly.
"We cannot leave you alone!" Tli hugged Hserle. The ground was uncomfortably close now, uncomfortably fast as well. A prayer in Latin was half-shouted, half-chanted by a woman in a habit.
"You have to. You have a gift, a power! Use it for the good of humaity! In my memory!" She looked around, tow Tli and me and then added with tears in her eyes: "Please!"
I nodded at Tli and she returned the nod, then I spoke to Hserle: "I love you! I wish you all the best!" I was in the living room at home again. Almost fell onto my ass as I had teleported in seated position. A few seconds later, Tli appeared next to me. We hugged wordlessly. Cried. Then, after a long time later, Tli broke the embrace: "We need to check the news." I nodded and turned on TV to N24. The pictures showed a crashed plane, wreckage. A place name in Russia which I never heard of before was written under the images. Then, the announcer stated that it was not yet clear how there had been no casualties but they assumed the work of a high-level super. The same wordless nod, then we once again violated Russian territorial integrity. When we saw Hserle, about half an hour later, she wordlessly gave us our clothes and turned around while we dressed. She looked utterly exhausted. When I turned to her, she hugged and Tli joined into the hug a moment later. Hserle's voice sounded very happy and very tired: "Looks as if you're not the only super in the family." | All I could hear were the grinding of the engines, the creek of metal, and panic. I looked past my wife to our adjacent window and see the right engine, engulfed with a weirdly colored flame.
"Honey I-" She cut me off with a hush and continued to pet the head of our daughter, who laid at her side, not a care in the world. I could- We could- We have the power.
"Honey I really thi-" I was cut off again by one of her hushes, as our daughter slept soundly, amidst a crowd of chaos, she and many others knew the plane would crash, it would sink and the pressure would keep us in.
"Alright" I said to her as I laid back in my seat, I knew at the moment we stepped onto the plane this was going to happen, that I was going to leave my child behind, that I had to think fast to do something. Maybe get a parachute from a docked plane and bring it back, no that would bring more chaos.
"Jus- Just know that I love you both" Leaning over and picking up our bundle of joy, the 7th child that was born, our only child that survived past the age of 1, even now the age of 7 was still to young to full understand what was going on.
I looked out the window to see the flames eating at the wing, it would fall of at any moment and we'd be plunged into a death spiral, a signal that we knew that would spell the end for everyone aboard. "I'm just happy, I got to be here with both of you" A smile crossed my face as it slowly en-roached onto hers.
We both had the power to teleport, we could've escaped, we could've helped people, or just bring entire cases of parachutes on board, but my wife lived by a simple sentence, a saying you could pass by without second glance.
"Amare est vivere"
I felt the shock of the plane hitting the ocean, the screams and reality came rushing back as I instinctively grabbed my child and wife, holding them both closely, whispering to both of them.
"Sine metu vivere, et vivere" | |
Tripocalypse? | [wp] Chewing on brain tissue leads to the release of a previously unknown, highly addictive psychoactive compound. Cannibalistic attacks begin to pop up all over as a result of a new type of drug fiend. The zombie apocalypse is here, and you are freaking out, man. | I didn't like the world anyway. On the streets below, screams rang, hordes of mad ex-humans swarmed in waves, their vicious, inhuman roars a reminder of how easily humans can revert back to their primitive state.
"It appears that scientists have found the most highly addictive drug in history in ingesting human brain tissue," the news reporter said, obviously getting more reluctant. "Right now, over New York, you can see...you can see..."
He slammed his papers onto the table. "Fuck it!" then he ran. There was no one to call him back.
I laughed, with a bottle of 1894 whatever. I had been saving it for this moment, for when the world finally burns. Here on my balcony with some fine booze, it was the best moment I've had. I'm smelling the screams, tasting the wind, hearing the high.
One of them, God knows how, fell from above, its beastly grunts and roars blaring and shaking hands trying to hold on to my balcony rail. The bottle was nice to swing, like a baseball bat.
The apartment room could have been better. My life could have been better. But I had lost my job months ago.
Graduating with a degree of environmental studies, I was quite happy back then. I was held with high hopes by my parents, who had passed that time. They had migrated here without an education, and so worked the most laborious jobs, and that definitely took the years out of them. But I did have an education, and their hopes of me changing the world were finally coming true, or so I thought. For years I spent volunteering in helping to raise awareness about climate change, planting trees, educating the youngsters. I was getting paid, sometimes, but nevertheless it was what I dreamed to do. But I was broke.
Then my efforts paid off, I got into a charity fund with the same objective. They were strict and demanded results. I spent every day going to talks, charities, setting up campaigns and all that. I was working hard, only that some new guy was up for hire, and he was a model. With one tweet he had gotten more awareness than my months of effort. With one tweet he got me fired. With one tweet I hated all of humanity.
I opened the room door. There were furious knocks on it, and a child screaming for help. There stood a family - a terrified father, a hopeless mother, and a traumatized little girl.
"Thank you, thank you sir." the dad said, gasping for breath. Nobody knew what to say next. They sat, dazed, the mother crying.
I breathed in the screams from the outside. I breathed in my guests' terror.
I was having some friendly conversation with the little girl, trying to calm her down. But damn it.
"Who is your idol, Haley?"
"Oh, I love..." she showed me his pictures on her phone, heavily filtered and edited, I noticed. I didn't recognize him.
"What does he do?"
"He's cute."
I waited for her to go on. "What else?"
"He sings." She played a video of him singing. It wasn't really good, I know lots more underrated artists who can sing better without heavily using autotune.
"Oh, and he's kind too. This one time, he sang for the victims of a terrorist attack." She played the video, full of filters, make-up, and flirting.
"That's all?"
"Well yeah. He's the kindest person I know. I want to be like him, to make the world a better place."
I replayed those words in my mind. It fanned a dead fire somewhere within.
Come nightfall, when they were asleep, I tied them up, all of them. The screams had died down outside, it was somewhat unsettling.
In the fridge I unboxed some heads. Yes, they were human, and there was an axe I had that when I used it the family woke up.
"Hey, what are you doing? What is this?" the woman said. She screamed when the head was chopped and the dried blood splattered out.
"Same thing I had in mind when I first tried human brain." I said, pouring the jelly-like sludge into two bowls like pouring coconut water. "Well, I had someone I hated, and I had nothing to eat."
The model's face lay dead on the floor, an empty shell inside. Their screams were so satisfying.
"I still remembered the first time I tasted it," I said, serving them the bowls. I moved them away when the woman vomited, and put them back in front of her face. I let her take in the one-of-a-kind smell.
I continued, "It was pure happiness. Yesterday, I tricked the druggies in the backstreet to try it. They loved it. Then I told them it was brain. And today, it has began."
They were clearly disgusted. I pried their mouths open and dumped the jelly into their mouths. Ah, you never forget the face of someone first trying brain. So disgusted, yet filled with enjoyment.
I loved their horrified faces when the last drop dripped from their lips.
I grabbed the little girl, crying, so hopeless in terror, obviously praying this was a dream. "You had my share, so unfortunately I'm out of brain."
The mother screamed in protest. But who cares. The little girl needs rest anyway.
I ended it in one quick move, a bloody knife on the floor. My rations are low, and when one doesn't consume it in a few hours they join the horde.
All the ones I've killed to keep myself sane. All the years of degradation, drug abuse, it was all worth it. I released my two new creations at the morning sun, throwing them out the door, already having their sanity taken.
So this is possibly the last brain I'm going to have before losing myself. The little brain. Well, it's time to join my wonderful creations.
| "You have 7 new voice messages."
"Mom! You gotta drive to Colo."
"Drive now! That crazy thing is happening! I...I got my own drive, but you had to leave now! It's near home! John hid a gun in the house! Take it with you! I'm coming! I'm coming!"
"Dad... *sob*... I didn't mean to yell at you. *sob* I should have..."
"I remember back in the day, Dad... Mom kept yelling at me in English while Grandma did the opposite. I... did not go to Aunt Anna's house that time. I actually spent all my savings in Sydney with cousins over there. Actually, that was how Aunt Helen went missing for 2 days; she went collecting us from around the city, Dad."
"Is Mom home yet?"
"(Crying background noise) No worry, John and Ken are very experience about this. *Laugh* I really wish they were with me now. We made it out of the city. You did not have to worry. I am very safe, very safe. I'm almost done! Don't be worried, okay? Seriously. Drive to Grand Junction, I will meet you there. Not Denver. Grand. Junction."
"Pick up the phone... Please... Pick up the phone... Why at this time does no one pick up the phone... I miss all a lot"
*************************************************************
It has been 5 days since Dad threw his phone at the window after receiving a call from Uncle Kevin, then grabbed me and my mom away from the house. I was so lucky to be able to grab Mr. Kittles, but not Athena. Hope someone on the street fed her. Poor big dog.
Day 7. Dad keeps biting his nails. He never does such a thing, especially a person who desires our house to have class. He should have both hands on the wheel, but whatever. Mom stops crying, but gets tortured by hiccups. How funny. Mom is the only who has her whole collection of sharp things in the car. Dad forgets lots of money. VR has been down for a while.
Day 10. We meet up with the Uncle Big Brother Puppy and Uncle Little Brother Puppy. They look so cool. "Where are aunties, uncles?" I asked. "Still shopping, kiddo. Big sale over there! Big!", said Uncle Big Brother Puppy while Uncle Little Brother Puppy repeatedly cleaned this sparkling bracelet. I miss John and Ken.
Day 15. I get hit for saying "Jesus Christ" and "God dammit". Dad always gets hit. Then why not this time? It was not fair.
Day 17. Why were those homeless people so scary? They bang the door and yelled so hard. Were they really hungry? So scary. Uncle Little Brother Puppy said he went out to help them. "When will he be back, Dad?" I asked. Dad said "Maybe looking for a bike. He loves collecting bikes, remember? Maybe snap an orange one for you after helping those people. He'll be back in no time, kiddo. He rides bicycle for life, remember?" Dad said. Uncle Big Brother Puppy said nothing, but gave a thumb up. Strange, he hates the other uncle, complains about him all the time when someone mentions his name. He ought to be back soon. His favorite bike is still on the car. Close the top window, please, Dad.
Day 22. How boring. There is no snow yet. Why are we here? Adults are no fair. Playing with sharp stuff except me.
Day 25.
"Mom! Mom! Mom! Mom!"
"Tom! Where is James!? I'm serious! Why isn't he back yet!? Tom!"
"Mom! Where is... Where is Mr. Kittles?"
"Be next to me. He must be somewhere in the house. It's okay. When the light goes back on, we will see him, of course, honey."
"Someone's car brake keeps making noise, Mom."
"..."
"Mom... Mom..."
"Where is my husband, Tom?", Mom started crying.
"Shut up, Yen. You divorced with him a long time ago. He is coming back in no time. It's James. Compared to your Karate black belt, you are still nothing to him. He lets you hit him with hands in combat all the time, but his specialty is not his hands at all. That insolent bastard still owns me a football game. Your dad always keeps his words, doesn't he?", said loudly Uncle Big Brother Puppy.
Dad always keeps his words, but never Mom.
Day 31.
Indeed, Dad runs so fast. Even though he is carrying me, he still runs faster Uncle Mad next door. Look like we are not going to have Mom's birthday today. She does not look happy. This VR is really not working.
Day 32.
"Block the door, Big Pup!"
"James! Where should we go!?"
"Give me a moment. Let me think."
"Kiddo, look at me. I love you a lot. And we are gonna have my birthday party soon, but promise me, keep this VR on your ear all the time. Or else, no VR party at all"
Day 33.
We are in a small, old, tiny house. Mom is re-knitting my scarf. Uncle Big Brother Puppy is having a happy chat with Dad about football like regular days in Chicago. Then Dad kisses Mom's hand. Uncle Big Brother Puppy gives Dad a fist bump. Mom takes the VR off and hugs me tightly.
“Do you still remember the multiplication boxes? Repeat each one of them again to me, kiddo. Then we will go have hot chocolate.”, Mom says nicely.
Wonder when John will be coming back. He left his toy in Dad's bag.
|
Tripocalypse? | [wp] Chewing on brain tissue leads to the release of a previously unknown, highly addictive psychoactive compound. Cannibalistic attacks begin to pop up all over as a result of a new type of drug fiend. The zombie apocalypse is here, and you are freaking out, man. | It had been around for as long as I could remember. "Brain Power", the mind stimulating drug endorsed by the rich and powerful, by rulers and scientist, by warlords and worshipers. Everyone wanted it, everyone could afford it and, as it turns out, few still could handle it's affects. Some of us never trusted the drug, saw it as man meddling where we did not belong. "The brain should not be tampered with!" "Brain Power corrupts!" We were a vocal minority. A quiet voice crying out in a wave of people screaming for Brain Power.
But all waves must crash and so came the fall of Brain Power.
In time they discovered that the vocal minority were right and Brain Power did, in fact, kill the mind. However, it did so in a way few people would have guessed. Brain Power was the mind, or rather, made from the mind. Thousands of poor souls bred and slaughtered for the benefit of mankind. Their brain matter refined into capsules, refined into Brain Power.
But the fall did not come with this revelation. No, the fall came with the revolution. The liberation of the breeding factories, the very people sustaining Brain Power tore the company down from within and with it, the world was plunged into chaos.
Supplies of the drug ran low within months, dwindling to private stashes and then ceasing to exist altogether. Brain Power was like gold dust only far more dangerous. As the world discovered the true horror of the drug, the users - the rich and the poor alike - discovered the true horror of withdrawals from the drug. The true horrors of a decaying brain.
So now I sit here in my basement. The world outside plunged into a chaos of killing and cannibalism and feral men committing horrors beyond measure in attempts satiate the burning hungers in their minds. I know there is no light at the end for me, no salvation from the brutality of this world. So with a heavy heart I write my final message in hopes that one day a being with a whole mind may look upon my words and see that humanity was not always so truly lost.
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I know I deviated from the prompt quite a bit but I hope you like it! | The dream felt so damn real. It was long theorized by a few conspiracy theory type psychonauts the possibility of LSD25 and other psychoactive drugs to be extracted from brain matter. It was in this sense that people could overlay the thoughts of others into their brain. For aome it caused a trippy visual high, and for others a cerebral paradigm shift of thoughy process. Either way, researchers knew one thing: the rejected brain tissue contains naturally occuring electrochemical neurotransmitters bound to phenyl groups of atoms and chains resembling molecules with the ability to alter mood, consiousness, and perception.
These molecules are the physical chemicals that make up creativity. Normally, these neurotransmitters are naturally flushed out with brain fluid and replaced with standard neurotransmitters. However, some individuals brains seem to find useful purpose for excessive creativity, channels for the resources of random nuerochemicals. It was a top notch intellectual creative that was the first to be bit.
A researcher was simply doing his laundry one night when he first "turned.' Little did he know that the neighbor before him had left over one thousand hits of a new psychoactive phenethylamine in his pocket. The compound had absorbed into the washing machine and created a small dosage of the sort of bathsalts that would drive someone to eat another human's face.
That's exactly what happened. The man, in all his intellect started biting into random neighbors' skulls as they walked their dogs. As he did so he was able to tap into the psychoactive brain tissue and access chemical creativity in exponential amounts. The process that occured in his brain with all the influx of brain chemicals led him to develop a strategy to revolutionize education, learning and creativity.
He developed a new form of electromechanical vibration control that allowed him to hack into every interface within planet earth. Instantly propoganda appeared on every device, publishing in an interactive custom tailed form of new media to every individual. The argument that everyone should adapt to purchasing his newly found compound spread like wildfire in a California drought.
Immediately hackers of the world wanted to know the compound and how he was able to connect with so many people. Furthermore, why was a wanted murderer ao influencial? They hunted him down and he left a clean trail, right to the answer.
His plan worked, soon people started eatting eachother's brains like you would see in a zombie movie. The man watched from his lofty place as he waited to consume the evolved superbrains.
|
[WP] You, as the Supreme Commander of an allied alien force, are discussing with your generals the strategy to adopt for attacking and invading Earth. However, your knowledge of humans and of their capabilities is based on Hollywood movies. | The bar on the holoscreen marched closer to completion, but I had a feeling this simulation would be like the others. One failed sim after another. There is just no accounting for it. We had fed every war-related cultural artifact about the Humans into the central processor, but every new piece of data just made it more sure of the outcome. Just one curious trait is all they need to overcome any simulated invasion we've tried.
In times of great distress it seems a latent gene triggers in certain members of their population. Our bio-engineers have been unable to isolate it, but its effects are obvious from their artifacts. When the gene activates the effected Human has their senses, intelligence and physical abilities heightened. I believe they also are able to, consciously or not, manipulate events around them to their advantage. There is no other explanation for what we've seen in their artifacts, projectiles that bend their trajectory away mid-flight, a sudden inability of their enemies to fight and how easily their strategies are accomplished, no matter how basic.
A satisfied noise came from the processor and the bar had filled. This was the last war artifact we had recovered and the holoscreen had a familiar display on it: "Invasion status: Failure, Casualty Report: Unaffordable." With a sigh I took the artifact out of the magno-recorder. Its blackness was interrupted by two windows housing the magnetic tape and a picture of the "hero", as the humans called them, the artifact contained. I brought the artifact back to collections and put it back in its spot. The Humans had meticulously organized their artifacts by type and title. It had taken a few cycles to go through the most promising of these divisions, the artifacts that had been tagged "Action" were clearly related to war. As of now I can see no way that I will recommend an invasion of this system. I can only hope there will be something in the next section, "Horror", that will make my final report less bleak. | General Za'aguvul was furious. Once again, Lieutenant Ma'aajavat was little more than an interruption in what was shaping up to be his shortest planning meeting in Go'paa'kava history. The Pak military prided itself on short briefings. Mission planning was considered to be the pinnacle of what was, in essence, an art form of stark, stripped down simplicity.
"But sir, they have formidable air technology. Their ability to fight from the air may even be superior to ours. We must have some means of defending against it! "
" QUIET YOU NATTERING INSECT! I will not have my authority, or the beauty of my plan, questioned by the likes of you. Am I clear? "
" B-but sir! The troops need... "
" SILENCE. All I want from you is a report. Do we have them? Have you replicated one for each member of this stinking, festering planet? "
The lieutenant hung his head and quietly responded. "Yes, sir. The kittens are ready, along with the beer you requested."
Za'aguul put the remote to the earth media playing machine down on the table, next to a stack of round silver discs. "Good. I've spent months researching their historical archives. They are powerless against these items! Finally, after 337 failed invasions, Division Zero will be victorious!" | |
[WP] You, as the Supreme Commander of an allied alien force, are discussing with your generals the strategy to adopt for attacking and invading Earth. However, your knowledge of humans and of their capabilities is based on Hollywood movies. | *We have faith in your abilities, Commander Batnak, to capture Sol III and raise our flag up high on its tallest peak. You’ll be leading the First Armada, which should be more than enough to crush any resistance in one fell swoop.*
***
“Sir,” Captain Drakoo rushed towards me as I stumbled from my cabin. “Are you alright?”
“Barely,” I sighed clutched the tablets close to me and announced to the bridge. “After watching videos stolen from their most military network, I bear grave news. This may be the first time in Le Toucan history… but we’re retreating, immediately.”
Stunned silence greeted my words.
“Commander, we have already made twenty-six system jumps, burnt up more than a third of our fuel, and now we’re supposed to go back empty handed?” Drakoo said.
“Unfortunately so, Drakoo,” I said grudgingly. “The might of these people, both in their weapons and their hearts, is extraordinary even by our terms. Quite a remarkable achievement for a race so young.”
“But what would the Elder Council say?”
“Those old bureaucrats can go fringle themselves,” I clacked my beak angrily. “I will not send thousands of Toucans to die needlessly, or tarnish our name as the best armada in the galaxy by failing to capture this planet.”
‘Sir,” Drakoo asked. “Could you tell us more of this planet that you gleamed from their military training?”
I nodded. “Some sort of despotic hegemony is controlling their planet, as these videos are broadcasted on their networks almost every day. Clearly their people are all very aware of potential invaders and will rise up as one when threatened.”
“But sir,” a transmissions officer pointed towards a screen dominated by the image of their planet. "They don't have a single defense station in orbit. Their planet is virtually defenseless.”
“That's what they want us to think," I said, holding the tablets aloft. “Their military records show a formidable defense down on the surface, should we ever land and attack.”
“And what is down there, sir?”
“Giant bipedal machine warriors for starters, equipped with technology even our best scientists cannot fathom. Then there’s also an entire division of humans in dark outfits, armed with blasters and ray guns much better than ours. The list just goes on and on...”
“Can't we just bombard them from a safe distance in orbit?”
“No,” I shook my head. "From the military exercises I saw, they have developed some sort of shield generator that will deflect all our weapons. The only way we could take presumably take their planet is through a direct land invasion, which would end up as a major defeat.”
“Couldn’t we try subterfuge, put some of our agents in there. And when the time is right, they’ll open the doors for us.”
“This would have been a great plan, Drakoo,” I sighed. “But yet again, the accursed humans are one step ahead of us. They have special organizations formed to ferret out spy aliens. They’ll ask lots of questions, including a thing called ‘taxi’. If our agents cannot answer correctly, they’ll be locked in captivity and experimented on. This I cannot allow.”
“Is there no other option, sir?” Drakoo’s beak drooped in shame.
“No—”
“Excuse me, sir?” A young officer, no older than two hundred interrupted me. “Has it ever occurred to you that those things might be propaganda? Or maybe just for entertain—”
“Are you questioning my judgment?” I strutted over to him and leaned in close, rapping him smartly on his beak. “Is this insubordination?”
“No, sir,” The young officer mumbled and lifted his uniform up and over his beak, the ultimate form of subservience.
“As I was saying,” I ignored the whimpers from the officer. “We’ll launch a small drone into their orbit, to give us a warning in case their species ever achieve FTL capabilities. Meanwhile tell the other ships to ready their warp drives, we’ll pay a visit to Alpha Centauri before we head home, there are some good fruits there.”
I sat down in my chair and leaned back as the officers rushed about following my orders. My fingers clenched and unclenched as I stared at the blue-green planet with admiration and hatred. But soon I realized that I was mostly angry at the Council for sending me on this mission and the briefing they gave me.
“One fell swoop," I muttered, "One fell swoop, my beak. More like one swell foop.”
***
I'm still relatively new at this, hope it is good. *Feedback appreciated*
| General Za'aguvul was furious. Once again, Lieutenant Ma'aajavat was little more than an interruption in what was shaping up to be his shortest planning meeting in Go'paa'kava history. The Pak military prided itself on short briefings. Mission planning was considered to be the pinnacle of what was, in essence, an art form of stark, stripped down simplicity.
"But sir, they have formidable air technology. Their ability to fight from the air may even be superior to ours. We must have some means of defending against it! "
" QUIET YOU NATTERING INSECT! I will not have my authority, or the beauty of my plan, questioned by the likes of you. Am I clear? "
" B-but sir! The troops need... "
" SILENCE. All I want from you is a report. Do we have them? Have you replicated one for each member of this stinking, festering planet? "
The lieutenant hung his head and quietly responded. "Yes, sir. The kittens are ready, along with the beer you requested."
Za'aguul put the remote to the earth media playing machine down on the table, next to a stack of round silver discs. "Good. I've spent months researching their historical archives. They are powerless against these items! Finally, after 337 failed invasions, Division Zero will be victorious!" | |
[WP] You, as the Supreme Commander of an allied alien force, are discussing with your generals the strategy to adopt for attacking and invading Earth. However, your knowledge of humans and of their capabilities is based on Hollywood movies. | The Overmind waited motionless and gravitationless, a thousand kilometers above the broiling surface of the star Proxima Cenaturi. Its tactical element-minds believed this was sufficient cover to avoid detection by the Earthlings, but the certainty was less than nine-nines. It did not enjoy operating in such loose parameters, but the alternative - operating without further information - was even less desirable.
Its molecular scans of Earth complete, it waited there for several billion oscillations of a cesium atom for consensus among the Subminds tasked with analyzing the data. Billions became trillions, and even the Overmind's patience became taxed. So it did something nearly unprecedented: it elevated several of the Subminds to autonomous status within it, and communicated directly with them.
"What is the status of the Earth" the overmind's consensus voice asked, but the question was a command that could not be refused.
"It is as we feared" replied the first sub-mind to speak. "All scans show the Earth as a pristine type 0.2 information-age primitive civilization, with no discrepancies at any level down to the molecular." Embedded within this statement were example scans representative of every Earth biome, down to several kilometers into the crust - beyond which the scans faded to a poorer resolution of nanometers.
SubOne was from a race that, before its consciousness underwent deposition with the Overmind, had a thousand tentacles, each capable of performing individual tasks. They were, understandably, known for their meticulousness. The Overmind consensus therefore believed the analysis of SubOne - but what of those regions of poorer scans?
"Could the Earth's crust still be a sub-nanotech machine masquerading as molten iron?"
"Context is necessary to analyze that question" replied the next Submind. Its race had been ageless and nearly sessile crystalline plant-analogs, whose were so unhurried that every dispute, from border conflicts to disagreement over civil parking fines, began with a complete history of the universe known to them at the time in order to establish context. It continued.
"All our historical models agree on the Human's distant past. They were a galaxy-spanning civilization that ruled, unrivaled, for untold eons. Their volatile nature and curiosity lead them to try numerous civilization models - from Empires ruled by powerful specimens with precognition to Federations of humans who self-identified with a culture by genetically altering their forehead and ears."
Digital checksums of the information presented by SubTwo served as nods from the gathered Subminds, and so SubTwo went on:
"But in each of these experimental governments, the humans could not contain themselves. In each they did terrible things. They destroyed worlds. They warred with terrible weapons. They rejected the natural progression to an Overmind, and instead continued to exemplify difference and dissidence."
At this, the checksums from a third Submind became more thorough, with several permutated hashes. Its species had formed its own species-wide overmind, before deposition with a nearby cluster Overmind, which itself underwent deposition with the current galactic Overmind. It communicated with the group directly now:
"Yes, yes, and everything our scan data shows emphasizes Case 7."
The checksums faded to mere acknowledgement packets of receipt as the Subminds reluctantly faced the truth of this. As if still pulled by an instinctual need for context, SubTwo resumed communicating:
"Case 7 is consistent with what we observe galaxy-wide - or rather, fail to observe. The humans, in their retreat from the worst of their natures, removed all traces of their having been at large in the Galaxy. Their embrace of a more primitive life, to spare us their deprivations, seems total now, as our scans show no technology above basic transistors anywhere on or in their planet."
"And that leads to the most terrifying conclusion of all" rumbled a fourth Submind. SubFour was the most tactical of the minds assembled; his race had embraced voluntary combat as a form of Pride and Honor even when resources were no longer a driving need for conflict. "For all their interstellar wars - Hundreds? Thousands? There remains no trace."
The exact number was known, but dramatic speech was also a hallmark of SubFour's species.
"We have seen every landmark on Earth destroyed time and time again, by every weapon type imaginable. We've seen induced tectonics level capitals, induced tsunamis wipe away civilizations, biological weapons, genetic hybridization attempts, deep asteroid impacts, crustal drilling, and countless military invasions. That these attacks were repelled by small groups or even individual Humans is worrying enough..."
SubFour trailed off, and SubTwo emphasized the point with a particularly striking case of two post-bubbletech civilizations being thwarted by a single human child. The checksums for this data were done with an older algorithm, indicating solemnity.
"And the scans" sent SubOne, for completeness' sake, "show no evidence of any of this. A thousand or more invasions by advanced civilizations should have left this planet looking like a molten cinder, but the biosphere matches our models for an uncontacted Info-age civilization to ninety-nine nines."
SubThree elaborated, filling time while their mental states absorbed this revelation fully: "Which means that every time they are invaded, and their planet damaged or destroyed, it is rebuilt down to the molecular level to its pre-interstellar state. And this technology is itself so sophisticated we cannot detect even a trace of its existence. In other words, Case 7."
A few thousand more Cesium oscillations passed before SubFour added his own commentary: "What we see as wars, illogic, illness, and poverty - the things we had hoped to invade and eradicate for them - they must see as self-imposed penance for their actions. It is my belief that they are dissatisfied with their evolution, which had lead to such great heights, but also such great depths - and so they have used their great technology to reset the clock. It is further clear that they will accept no interference in this matter - and that if necessary, their species will thwart us with only a handful of humans just to send that message more clearly. I recommend no action involving the Humans."
The Overmind sensed there was enough knowledge now to reach consensus, and called for one. SubFour had already indicated his. SubThree followed shortly after. SubTwo was the last, though likely because of its need for deep contextual analysis rather than from any disagreement. The Overmind acknowledged that the consensus of Subminds was representative of its greater whole, and so the decision was made.
The toll of watching the Earthlings suffer their seemingly unnecessary ailments and afflictions would take its toll on the collective sympathy of the Overmind, but the risk of invasion was just too great if the Humans felt their penance had not been served. It slipped into the nondimensional space between two Plank ticks, and departed this region. | General Za'aguvul was furious. Once again, Lieutenant Ma'aajavat was little more than an interruption in what was shaping up to be his shortest planning meeting in Go'paa'kava history. The Pak military prided itself on short briefings. Mission planning was considered to be the pinnacle of what was, in essence, an art form of stark, stripped down simplicity.
"But sir, they have formidable air technology. Their ability to fight from the air may even be superior to ours. We must have some means of defending against it! "
" QUIET YOU NATTERING INSECT! I will not have my authority, or the beauty of my plan, questioned by the likes of you. Am I clear? "
" B-but sir! The troops need... "
" SILENCE. All I want from you is a report. Do we have them? Have you replicated one for each member of this stinking, festering planet? "
The lieutenant hung his head and quietly responded. "Yes, sir. The kittens are ready, along with the beer you requested."
Za'aguul put the remote to the earth media playing machine down on the table, next to a stack of round silver discs. "Good. I've spent months researching their historical archives. They are powerless against these items! Finally, after 337 failed invasions, Division Zero will be victorious!" | |
[WP] You, as the Supreme Commander of an allied alien force, are discussing with your generals the strategy to adopt for attacking and invading Earth. However, your knowledge of humans and of their capabilities is based on Hollywood movies. | The Overmind waited motionless and gravitationless, a thousand kilometers above the broiling surface of the star Proxima Cenaturi. Its tactical element-minds believed this was sufficient cover to avoid detection by the Earthlings, but the certainty was less than nine-nines. It did not enjoy operating in such loose parameters, but the alternative - operating without further information - was even less desirable.
Its molecular scans of Earth complete, it waited there for several billion oscillations of a cesium atom for consensus among the Subminds tasked with analyzing the data. Billions became trillions, and even the Overmind's patience became taxed. So it did something nearly unprecedented: it elevated several of the Subminds to autonomous status within it, and communicated directly with them.
"What is the status of the Earth" the overmind's consensus voice asked, but the question was a command that could not be refused.
"It is as we feared" replied the first sub-mind to speak. "All scans show the Earth as a pristine type 0.2 information-age primitive civilization, with no discrepancies at any level down to the molecular." Embedded within this statement were example scans representative of every Earth biome, down to several kilometers into the crust - beyond which the scans faded to a poorer resolution of nanometers.
SubOne was from a race that, before its consciousness underwent deposition with the Overmind, had a thousand tentacles, each capable of performing individual tasks. They were, understandably, known for their meticulousness. The Overmind consensus therefore believed the analysis of SubOne - but what of those regions of poorer scans?
"Could the Earth's crust still be a sub-nanotech machine masquerading as molten iron?"
"Context is necessary to analyze that question" replied the next Submind. Its race had been ageless and nearly sessile crystalline plant-analogs, whose were so unhurried that every dispute, from border conflicts to disagreement over civil parking fines, began with a complete history of the universe known to them at the time in order to establish context. It continued.
"All our historical models agree on the Human's distant past. They were a galaxy-spanning civilization that ruled, unrivaled, for untold eons. Their volatile nature and curiosity lead them to try numerous civilization models - from Empires ruled by powerful specimens with precognition to Federations of humans who self-identified with a culture by genetically altering their forehead and ears."
Digital checksums of the information presented by SubTwo served as nods from the gathered Subminds, and so SubTwo went on:
"But in each of these experimental governments, the humans could not contain themselves. In each they did terrible things. They destroyed worlds. They warred with terrible weapons. They rejected the natural progression to an Overmind, and instead continued to exemplify difference and dissidence."
At this, the checksums from a third Submind became more thorough, with several permutated hashes. Its species had formed its own species-wide overmind, before deposition with a nearby cluster Overmind, which itself underwent deposition with the current galactic Overmind. It communicated with the group directly now:
"Yes, yes, and everything our scan data shows emphasizes Case 7."
The checksums faded to mere acknowledgement packets of receipt as the Subminds reluctantly faced the truth of this. As if still pulled by an instinctual need for context, SubTwo resumed communicating:
"Case 7 is consistent with what we observe galaxy-wide - or rather, fail to observe. The humans, in their retreat from the worst of their natures, removed all traces of their having been at large in the Galaxy. Their embrace of a more primitive life, to spare us their deprivations, seems total now, as our scans show no technology above basic transistors anywhere on or in their planet."
"And that leads to the most terrifying conclusion of all" rumbled a fourth Submind. SubFour was the most tactical of the minds assembled; his race had embraced voluntary combat as a form of Pride and Honor even when resources were no longer a driving need for conflict. "For all their interstellar wars - Hundreds? Thousands? There remains no trace."
The exact number was known, but dramatic speech was also a hallmark of SubFour's species.
"We have seen every landmark on Earth destroyed time and time again, by every weapon type imaginable. We've seen induced tectonics level capitals, induced tsunamis wipe away civilizations, biological weapons, genetic hybridization attempts, deep asteroid impacts, crustal drilling, and countless military invasions. That these attacks were repelled by small groups or even individual Humans is worrying enough..."
SubFour trailed off, and SubTwo emphasized the point with a particularly striking case of two post-bubbletech civilizations being thwarted by a single human child. The checksums for this data were done with an older algorithm, indicating solemnity.
"And the scans" sent SubOne, for completeness' sake, "show no evidence of any of this. A thousand or more invasions by advanced civilizations should have left this planet looking like a molten cinder, but the biosphere matches our models for an uncontacted Info-age civilization to ninety-nine nines."
SubThree elaborated, filling time while their mental states absorbed this revelation fully: "Which means that every time they are invaded, and their planet damaged or destroyed, it is rebuilt down to the molecular level to its pre-interstellar state. And this technology is itself so sophisticated we cannot detect even a trace of its existence. In other words, Case 7."
A few thousand more Cesium oscillations passed before SubFour added his own commentary: "What we see as wars, illogic, illness, and poverty - the things we had hoped to invade and eradicate for them - they must see as self-imposed penance for their actions. It is my belief that they are dissatisfied with their evolution, which had lead to such great heights, but also such great depths - and so they have used their great technology to reset the clock. It is further clear that they will accept no interference in this matter - and that if necessary, their species will thwart us with only a handful of humans just to send that message more clearly. I recommend no action involving the Humans."
The Overmind sensed there was enough knowledge now to reach consensus, and called for one. SubFour had already indicated his. SubThree followed shortly after. SubTwo was the last, though likely because of its need for deep contextual analysis rather than from any disagreement. The Overmind acknowledged that the consensus of Subminds was representative of its greater whole, and so the decision was made.
The toll of watching the Earthlings suffer their seemingly unnecessary ailments and afflictions would take its toll on the collective sympathy of the Overmind, but the risk of invasion was just too great if the Humans felt their penance had not been served. It slipped into the nondimensional space between two Plank ticks, and departed this region. | From the desk of Supreme Commander Teh
of the Glorious Empire of Kalazhar
To all soldiers and pilots assigned to post, and all civilian support personnel of the 85th Fleet:
As we begin our final approach to Earth and prepare to begin invasion, I wish to take a moment to first congratulate all of you on reaching this point. I understand the rigors of faster-than-light travel are unpleasant to endure, but know that soon you will all reap the rewards of glory and conquest, as we seize the Earth for the glory of Kalazhar and for Emperor Nyx, long my he reign.
I wish to remind all personnel at this time to be on the lookout for Earthlings of noted exception. I am requiring all personnel, military and civilian, to review their issued orders which detail known dangerous Earthlings. Remember the historical records we have reviewed, and never forget that these earthlings have single-handedly prevented entire fleets of attempted invaders from taking over Earth. They are known to be highly dangerous and must be approached with caution.
As you direct your attention to your issued orders, take special notice of the Earthlings classed in the Alpha tier, for they pose the greatest threat to our imminent and deserved glory.
* **Ellen Ripley.** Once a human being who single-handedly fought off entire packs of Xenomorph\* peoples, she has since been fused with Xenomorph DNA. This human-Xenomorph hybrid is extremely dangerous and should only be attacked by a properly trained squadron of Kalazhari troops. All others, avoid at all costs.
* **The crew of the various vessels named USS Enterprise.** They proclaim peaceful nonviolent beliefs, but have demonstrated on multiple occasions that their top officers are capable of using guerilla tactics to destroy entire armies of invaders. They also are part of a Federation of Planets and could potentially call in support from Vulcan\* Klingon\* or other allies if direly threatened. Notably proficient officers are Captain James Kirk and Captain Jean-Luc Picard. Engage with caution.
* **Superman.** A Kryptonian\* who has betrayed his own people and lives to defend Earth. Superman converts photons into immense physical power, and has numerous accounts of destroying entire fleets of invaders single-handedly. Engineering Division is working on a defense plan to block out the light of Earth's local star temporarily to minimize the battlefield presence of Superman.
* **The United States of America.** Do not engage until all other opposition on the planet has been conquered and cleared. In every historical record reviewed, this nation was attacked first and they have without fail repelled every single invading force that came upon them, no matter how much of a numerical or technological disadvantage they faced. This nation routinely sends in small squads of soldiers or even armed civilians, who prove capable of destroying entire fleets of invading forces using only their ingenuity. Be advised, if your vessel is invaded by a single unaccompanied American, DO NOT ENGAGE. One American can gun down whole vessels worth of crew and soldiers in an open firefight and never even be hit by a single shot.
* **Godzilla.** The Earth nation of Japan is home to a large number of immensely powerful titanic animal lifeforms which could pose dire threat to our forces, most notably the radioactive creature called Godzilla (note: the creature is also known to go by the name Gojira). Engage Japan with utmost care.
The remainder of the targets should be approached as outlined in your issued orders. Earth's defenders are strong, but with preparation and determination we WILL prevail.
For glory. For honor. For the Emperor!
Supreme Commander Teh
- - - - -
\* All non-human sentient races mentioned above have thus far not been contacted by the Empire of Kalazhar. Any information found to the locations of their homeworlds will be rewarded appropriately. | |
[WP] You, as the Supreme Commander of an allied alien force, are discussing with your generals the strategy to adopt for attacking and invading Earth. However, your knowledge of humans and of their capabilities is based on Hollywood movies. | The Overmind waited motionless and gravitationless, a thousand kilometers above the broiling surface of the star Proxima Cenaturi. Its tactical element-minds believed this was sufficient cover to avoid detection by the Earthlings, but the certainty was less than nine-nines. It did not enjoy operating in such loose parameters, but the alternative - operating without further information - was even less desirable.
Its molecular scans of Earth complete, it waited there for several billion oscillations of a cesium atom for consensus among the Subminds tasked with analyzing the data. Billions became trillions, and even the Overmind's patience became taxed. So it did something nearly unprecedented: it elevated several of the Subminds to autonomous status within it, and communicated directly with them.
"What is the status of the Earth" the overmind's consensus voice asked, but the question was a command that could not be refused.
"It is as we feared" replied the first sub-mind to speak. "All scans show the Earth as a pristine type 0.2 information-age primitive civilization, with no discrepancies at any level down to the molecular." Embedded within this statement were example scans representative of every Earth biome, down to several kilometers into the crust - beyond which the scans faded to a poorer resolution of nanometers.
SubOne was from a race that, before its consciousness underwent deposition with the Overmind, had a thousand tentacles, each capable of performing individual tasks. They were, understandably, known for their meticulousness. The Overmind consensus therefore believed the analysis of SubOne - but what of those regions of poorer scans?
"Could the Earth's crust still be a sub-nanotech machine masquerading as molten iron?"
"Context is necessary to analyze that question" replied the next Submind. Its race had been ageless and nearly sessile crystalline plant-analogs, whose were so unhurried that every dispute, from border conflicts to disagreement over civil parking fines, began with a complete history of the universe known to them at the time in order to establish context. It continued.
"All our historical models agree on the Human's distant past. They were a galaxy-spanning civilization that ruled, unrivaled, for untold eons. Their volatile nature and curiosity lead them to try numerous civilization models - from Empires ruled by powerful specimens with precognition to Federations of humans who self-identified with a culture by genetically altering their forehead and ears."
Digital checksums of the information presented by SubTwo served as nods from the gathered Subminds, and so SubTwo went on:
"But in each of these experimental governments, the humans could not contain themselves. In each they did terrible things. They destroyed worlds. They warred with terrible weapons. They rejected the natural progression to an Overmind, and instead continued to exemplify difference and dissidence."
At this, the checksums from a third Submind became more thorough, with several permutated hashes. Its species had formed its own species-wide overmind, before deposition with a nearby cluster Overmind, which itself underwent deposition with the current galactic Overmind. It communicated with the group directly now:
"Yes, yes, and everything our scan data shows emphasizes Case 7."
The checksums faded to mere acknowledgement packets of receipt as the Subminds reluctantly faced the truth of this. As if still pulled by an instinctual need for context, SubTwo resumed communicating:
"Case 7 is consistent with what we observe galaxy-wide - or rather, fail to observe. The humans, in their retreat from the worst of their natures, removed all traces of their having been at large in the Galaxy. Their embrace of a more primitive life, to spare us their deprivations, seems total now, as our scans show no technology above basic transistors anywhere on or in their planet."
"And that leads to the most terrifying conclusion of all" rumbled a fourth Submind. SubFour was the most tactical of the minds assembled; his race had embraced voluntary combat as a form of Pride and Honor even when resources were no longer a driving need for conflict. "For all their interstellar wars - Hundreds? Thousands? There remains no trace."
The exact number was known, but dramatic speech was also a hallmark of SubFour's species.
"We have seen every landmark on Earth destroyed time and time again, by every weapon type imaginable. We've seen induced tectonics level capitals, induced tsunamis wipe away civilizations, biological weapons, genetic hybridization attempts, deep asteroid impacts, crustal drilling, and countless military invasions. That these attacks were repelled by small groups or even individual Humans is worrying enough..."
SubFour trailed off, and SubTwo emphasized the point with a particularly striking case of two post-bubbletech civilizations being thwarted by a single human child. The checksums for this data were done with an older algorithm, indicating solemnity.
"And the scans" sent SubOne, for completeness' sake, "show no evidence of any of this. A thousand or more invasions by advanced civilizations should have left this planet looking like a molten cinder, but the biosphere matches our models for an uncontacted Info-age civilization to ninety-nine nines."
SubThree elaborated, filling time while their mental states absorbed this revelation fully: "Which means that every time they are invaded, and their planet damaged or destroyed, it is rebuilt down to the molecular level to its pre-interstellar state. And this technology is itself so sophisticated we cannot detect even a trace of its existence. In other words, Case 7."
A few thousand more Cesium oscillations passed before SubFour added his own commentary: "What we see as wars, illogic, illness, and poverty - the things we had hoped to invade and eradicate for them - they must see as self-imposed penance for their actions. It is my belief that they are dissatisfied with their evolution, which had lead to such great heights, but also such great depths - and so they have used their great technology to reset the clock. It is further clear that they will accept no interference in this matter - and that if necessary, their species will thwart us with only a handful of humans just to send that message more clearly. I recommend no action involving the Humans."
The Overmind sensed there was enough knowledge now to reach consensus, and called for one. SubFour had already indicated his. SubThree followed shortly after. SubTwo was the last, though likely because of its need for deep contextual analysis rather than from any disagreement. The Overmind acknowledged that the consensus of Subminds was representative of its greater whole, and so the decision was made.
The toll of watching the Earthlings suffer their seemingly unnecessary ailments and afflictions would take its toll on the collective sympathy of the Overmind, but the risk of invasion was just too great if the Humans felt their penance had not been served. It slipped into the nondimensional space between two Plank ticks, and departed this region. | The bar on the holoscreen marched closer to completion, but I had a feeling this simulation would be like the others. One failed sim after another. There is just no accounting for it. We had fed every war-related cultural artifact about the Humans into the central processor, but every new piece of data just made it more sure of the outcome. Just one curious trait is all they need to overcome any simulated invasion we've tried.
In times of great distress it seems a latent gene triggers in certain members of their population. Our bio-engineers have been unable to isolate it, but its effects are obvious from their artifacts. When the gene activates the effected Human has their senses, intelligence and physical abilities heightened. I believe they also are able to, consciously or not, manipulate events around them to their advantage. There is no other explanation for what we've seen in their artifacts, projectiles that bend their trajectory away mid-flight, a sudden inability of their enemies to fight and how easily their strategies are accomplished, no matter how basic.
A satisfied noise came from the processor and the bar had filled. This was the last war artifact we had recovered and the holoscreen had a familiar display on it: "Invasion status: Failure, Casualty Report: Unaffordable." With a sigh I took the artifact out of the magno-recorder. Its blackness was interrupted by two windows housing the magnetic tape and a picture of the "hero", as the humans called them, the artifact contained. I brought the artifact back to collections and put it back in its spot. The Humans had meticulously organized their artifacts by type and title. It had taken a few cycles to go through the most promising of these divisions, the artifacts that had been tagged "Action" were clearly related to war. As of now I can see no way that I will recommend an invasion of this system. I can only hope there will be something in the next section, "Horror", that will make my final report less bleak. | |
[WP] You, as the Supreme Commander of an allied alien force, are discussing with your generals the strategy to adopt for attacking and invading Earth. However, your knowledge of humans and of their capabilities is based on Hollywood movies. | The Overmind waited motionless and gravitationless, a thousand kilometers above the broiling surface of the star Proxima Cenaturi. Its tactical element-minds believed this was sufficient cover to avoid detection by the Earthlings, but the certainty was less than nine-nines. It did not enjoy operating in such loose parameters, but the alternative - operating without further information - was even less desirable.
Its molecular scans of Earth complete, it waited there for several billion oscillations of a cesium atom for consensus among the Subminds tasked with analyzing the data. Billions became trillions, and even the Overmind's patience became taxed. So it did something nearly unprecedented: it elevated several of the Subminds to autonomous status within it, and communicated directly with them.
"What is the status of the Earth" the overmind's consensus voice asked, but the question was a command that could not be refused.
"It is as we feared" replied the first sub-mind to speak. "All scans show the Earth as a pristine type 0.2 information-age primitive civilization, with no discrepancies at any level down to the molecular." Embedded within this statement were example scans representative of every Earth biome, down to several kilometers into the crust - beyond which the scans faded to a poorer resolution of nanometers.
SubOne was from a race that, before its consciousness underwent deposition with the Overmind, had a thousand tentacles, each capable of performing individual tasks. They were, understandably, known for their meticulousness. The Overmind consensus therefore believed the analysis of SubOne - but what of those regions of poorer scans?
"Could the Earth's crust still be a sub-nanotech machine masquerading as molten iron?"
"Context is necessary to analyze that question" replied the next Submind. Its race had been ageless and nearly sessile crystalline plant-analogs, whose were so unhurried that every dispute, from border conflicts to disagreement over civil parking fines, began with a complete history of the universe known to them at the time in order to establish context. It continued.
"All our historical models agree on the Human's distant past. They were a galaxy-spanning civilization that ruled, unrivaled, for untold eons. Their volatile nature and curiosity lead them to try numerous civilization models - from Empires ruled by powerful specimens with precognition to Federations of humans who self-identified with a culture by genetically altering their forehead and ears."
Digital checksums of the information presented by SubTwo served as nods from the gathered Subminds, and so SubTwo went on:
"But in each of these experimental governments, the humans could not contain themselves. In each they did terrible things. They destroyed worlds. They warred with terrible weapons. They rejected the natural progression to an Overmind, and instead continued to exemplify difference and dissidence."
At this, the checksums from a third Submind became more thorough, with several permutated hashes. Its species had formed its own species-wide overmind, before deposition with a nearby cluster Overmind, which itself underwent deposition with the current galactic Overmind. It communicated with the group directly now:
"Yes, yes, and everything our scan data shows emphasizes Case 7."
The checksums faded to mere acknowledgement packets of receipt as the Subminds reluctantly faced the truth of this. As if still pulled by an instinctual need for context, SubTwo resumed communicating:
"Case 7 is consistent with what we observe galaxy-wide - or rather, fail to observe. The humans, in their retreat from the worst of their natures, removed all traces of their having been at large in the Galaxy. Their embrace of a more primitive life, to spare us their deprivations, seems total now, as our scans show no technology above basic transistors anywhere on or in their planet."
"And that leads to the most terrifying conclusion of all" rumbled a fourth Submind. SubFour was the most tactical of the minds assembled; his race had embraced voluntary combat as a form of Pride and Honor even when resources were no longer a driving need for conflict. "For all their interstellar wars - Hundreds? Thousands? There remains no trace."
The exact number was known, but dramatic speech was also a hallmark of SubFour's species.
"We have seen every landmark on Earth destroyed time and time again, by every weapon type imaginable. We've seen induced tectonics level capitals, induced tsunamis wipe away civilizations, biological weapons, genetic hybridization attempts, deep asteroid impacts, crustal drilling, and countless military invasions. That these attacks were repelled by small groups or even individual Humans is worrying enough..."
SubFour trailed off, and SubTwo emphasized the point with a particularly striking case of two post-bubbletech civilizations being thwarted by a single human child. The checksums for this data were done with an older algorithm, indicating solemnity.
"And the scans" sent SubOne, for completeness' sake, "show no evidence of any of this. A thousand or more invasions by advanced civilizations should have left this planet looking like a molten cinder, but the biosphere matches our models for an uncontacted Info-age civilization to ninety-nine nines."
SubThree elaborated, filling time while their mental states absorbed this revelation fully: "Which means that every time they are invaded, and their planet damaged or destroyed, it is rebuilt down to the molecular level to its pre-interstellar state. And this technology is itself so sophisticated we cannot detect even a trace of its existence. In other words, Case 7."
A few thousand more Cesium oscillations passed before SubFour added his own commentary: "What we see as wars, illogic, illness, and poverty - the things we had hoped to invade and eradicate for them - they must see as self-imposed penance for their actions. It is my belief that they are dissatisfied with their evolution, which had lead to such great heights, but also such great depths - and so they have used their great technology to reset the clock. It is further clear that they will accept no interference in this matter - and that if necessary, their species will thwart us with only a handful of humans just to send that message more clearly. I recommend no action involving the Humans."
The Overmind sensed there was enough knowledge now to reach consensus, and called for one. SubFour had already indicated his. SubThree followed shortly after. SubTwo was the last, though likely because of its need for deep contextual analysis rather than from any disagreement. The Overmind acknowledged that the consensus of Subminds was representative of its greater whole, and so the decision was made.
The toll of watching the Earthlings suffer their seemingly unnecessary ailments and afflictions would take its toll on the collective sympathy of the Overmind, but the risk of invasion was just too great if the Humans felt their penance had not been served. It slipped into the nondimensional space between two Plank ticks, and departed this region. | *We have faith in your abilities, Commander Batnak, to capture Sol III and raise our flag up high on its tallest peak. You’ll be leading the First Armada, which should be more than enough to crush any resistance in one fell swoop.*
***
“Sir,” Captain Drakoo rushed towards me as I stumbled from my cabin. “Are you alright?”
“Barely,” I sighed clutched the tablets close to me and announced to the bridge. “After watching videos stolen from their most military network, I bear grave news. This may be the first time in Le Toucan history… but we’re retreating, immediately.”
Stunned silence greeted my words.
“Commander, we have already made twenty-six system jumps, burnt up more than a third of our fuel, and now we’re supposed to go back empty handed?” Drakoo said.
“Unfortunately so, Drakoo,” I said grudgingly. “The might of these people, both in their weapons and their hearts, is extraordinary even by our terms. Quite a remarkable achievement for a race so young.”
“But what would the Elder Council say?”
“Those old bureaucrats can go fringle themselves,” I clacked my beak angrily. “I will not send thousands of Toucans to die needlessly, or tarnish our name as the best armada in the galaxy by failing to capture this planet.”
‘Sir,” Drakoo asked. “Could you tell us more of this planet that you gleamed from their military training?”
I nodded. “Some sort of despotic hegemony is controlling their planet, as these videos are broadcasted on their networks almost every day. Clearly their people are all very aware of potential invaders and will rise up as one when threatened.”
“But sir,” a transmissions officer pointed towards a screen dominated by the image of their planet. "They don't have a single defense station in orbit. Their planet is virtually defenseless.”
“That's what they want us to think," I said, holding the tablets aloft. “Their military records show a formidable defense down on the surface, should we ever land and attack.”
“And what is down there, sir?”
“Giant bipedal machine warriors for starters, equipped with technology even our best scientists cannot fathom. Then there’s also an entire division of humans in dark outfits, armed with blasters and ray guns much better than ours. The list just goes on and on...”
“Can't we just bombard them from a safe distance in orbit?”
“No,” I shook my head. "From the military exercises I saw, they have developed some sort of shield generator that will deflect all our weapons. The only way we could take presumably take their planet is through a direct land invasion, which would end up as a major defeat.”
“Couldn’t we try subterfuge, put some of our agents in there. And when the time is right, they’ll open the doors for us.”
“This would have been a great plan, Drakoo,” I sighed. “But yet again, the accursed humans are one step ahead of us. They have special organizations formed to ferret out spy aliens. They’ll ask lots of questions, including a thing called ‘taxi’. If our agents cannot answer correctly, they’ll be locked in captivity and experimented on. This I cannot allow.”
“Is there no other option, sir?” Drakoo’s beak drooped in shame.
“No—”
“Excuse me, sir?” A young officer, no older than two hundred interrupted me. “Has it ever occurred to you that those things might be propaganda? Or maybe just for entertain—”
“Are you questioning my judgment?” I strutted over to him and leaned in close, rapping him smartly on his beak. “Is this insubordination?”
“No, sir,” The young officer mumbled and lifted his uniform up and over his beak, the ultimate form of subservience.
“As I was saying,” I ignored the whimpers from the officer. “We’ll launch a small drone into their orbit, to give us a warning in case their species ever achieve FTL capabilities. Meanwhile tell the other ships to ready their warp drives, we’ll pay a visit to Alpha Centauri before we head home, there are some good fruits there.”
I sat down in my chair and leaned back as the officers rushed about following my orders. My fingers clenched and unclenched as I stared at the blue-green planet with admiration and hatred. But soon I realized that I was mostly angry at the Council for sending me on this mission and the briefing they gave me.
“One fell swoop," I muttered, "One fell swoop, my beak. More like one swell foop.”
***
I'm still relatively new at this, hope it is good. *Feedback appreciated*
| |
[WP] The wolf was innocent, he was framed by red riding hood. | The lights flicked on and the Wolf pulled at the cuffs chaining him to the chair. "You can't do this!" he yelled, his voice ricocheting around the small, empty room.
The steel door set into the wall opened and a tall, muscular man with a full beard stepped into the room, flipping through a folder he held in his massive hand. "We can," he said, without looking up. "And we did."
"This is bullshit," the Wolf growled. "You know it is, Hunts."
The Huntsman glanced up at the Wolf. "What I know is that you were found with Granny's blood matted in your fur. Her flesh in your teeth. Her DNA all over you, Wolf. So don't even *try* to pull your shit with me."
"Don't even try..." the Wolf whistled. "Wow. She really fucked me, didn't she?"
"Who are you talking about?"
The Wolf shook his head, his smile rueful. "This is it, then, huh? And what does she get out of it?"
"Wolf, I don't know what you're talking about. I'm here to figure out why you murdered Red's Grandmother and that's it. Now we can do this the easy way or-"
"Or the hard way. Yeah, yeah." The Wolf sighed. "Look, I'm gonna tell you exactly what I told the cops when they found me. Because it's the truth. I was at Red's last night. She wanted to make peace. The bad blood between the two of us was getting out of hand, and we both wanted it to end. So we met up, settled our differences over a few steaks, cleared the air."
"And next thing you knew, you woke up in a puddle of blood and my men all around you." The Huntsman rubbed his eyes. "I read the report, Wolf."
"Well that's the truth, damn it!"
"Sure it is. Sure it is." He closed the folder and pushed it to the side. "Let me tell you what I know. What I know is that we have a sweet, dead old woman. We have a girl with nobody to take care of her now. And we have a career con-"
"A career con! Do you hear yourself?!"
"A career con. In custody. With evidence *literally dripping off of you.* Like I said, Wolf. There's nothing you can do to weasel your way out of-"
A sharp ring cut the Huntsman off. He reached down and pulled out his cell phone, silencing it and stuffing it back into his pants.
The Huntsman cleared his throat. "There's nothing you can-"
"I saw that," the Wolf said.
"Excuse me?"
"That call. Who it was from. I saw the name on your screen." The Wolf shook his head. "So that's the game? You're unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable."
The Huntsman's jaw tightened as he stood. "We're done here. Enjoy prison, you sick animal."
"She's barely a kid, Hunts. You're what? Forty? Forty-five? And I'm the sick animal?"
The Huntsman's breath grew heavy, his fists tight.
"Hope she's worth it, man," Wolf huffed.
"Don't you say it."
"Hope she's as good to you as she was to me last night."
"Don't you fucking dare!" the Huntsman roared, seizing the Wolf by the throat and slamming him into the floor, his meaty fists rising and falling on the Wolf's sneering face.
Even when the officers stationed outside the room tried to pull him off, he wouldn't stop. "That's a taste of what prison will be like for a pretty little Wolf like you!" the Huntsman screamed as they dragged him out of the room.
"Yeah, we'll see about that," the Wolf said, spitting a sharp tooth onto the concrete floor. He looked up at one of the cops still standing in the room and grinned. "I'd like a lawyer now, if I may." | Anyone would have jumped at the chance. Ask any sane, business minded individual and they would have done the exact same thing. When that girl appeared at my door I just knew she was a gift; her with the whole peaches and cream thing going on and the tumbling locks of dark hair. She was the perfect victim. Together, we could make some serious money.
I’ve worked in PR a long time and a big part of that’s picking some choice clients. What we managed with Red was something I’m proud of to this day. I remember the first time I saw her, she had this smile that could knock you stone cold dead. Her potential was right there in front of me like a story already written. We could get her a book deal, TV interviews, maybe even a film. The whole she-bang.
I said to her as soon as I met her “Red, honey, you tell me anything that might come up if someone goes digging. Whatever it is, you might think the flies have settled but may I remind you that shit floats and them flies are bound to get disturbed at some point.”
She started to tell me the whole thing, about her dear grannie that night in the woods. I can’t remember all that much of it. I just remember that I stopped her, since I’m no lawyer, I just spin a good story until it becomes the truth. It was clear she wasn’t no angel, but that aint something I’m interested in. Angels aren’t known for rolling in it. Nor for taking instruction too well. This girl though, you could give her any direction and she’d sell it so you forgot it was your own line she was spinning back to you.
It was an easy enough story to re-write. Picking the fall guy was a piece of cake. Those Wolf brothers had made quite a name for themselves, and there were plenty of stories flying around about the kind of weird stuff they were into. Living alone in the woods, they only ever seemed to come out to cause trouble. It was just a shame that two of them wound up locked up right around the time of Red’s little ‘incident’. We had to go for the third brother, the one with the shortest record – just a couple of minor misdemeanours to his name. But lucky for us they were all booze related and it sounded like the guy had a serious problem. Using Red as a key witness was a genius ploy on my own part, she certainly played the part well.
The Wolf didn’t help himself neither, he said he couldn’t remember anything of that night. He never remembered leaving his house. But Red stood up bold as anything and she said in this clear little voice that “He was the one I saw coming out of grannie’s house that night. I’ll never forget his face for as long as I live. He tore her throat out with those big teeth of his. I only just managed to get away myself.” All the policemen were dead sympathetic, watching as these big Disney tears rolled down her cheeks and shaking their heads.
We made sure the story got into the local papers, so by the time law enforcement were heading his way it was a toss up to see if the local angry mob would get there first. In the end they were both too late. He’d hung himself off one of the trees outside his house. A coward that couldn’t handle justice being served.
It was a shame the case never got to trial, since that would have made a few more news stories with Red looking all pained but still sexy as hell as she headed to court. Still, we managed to get that book deal out of it. Like I said, she was the perfect (almost) victim. The stories almost wrote themselves.
| |
[WP] The wolf was innocent, he was framed by red riding hood. | The lights flicked on and the Wolf pulled at the cuffs chaining him to the chair. "You can't do this!" he yelled, his voice ricocheting around the small, empty room.
The steel door set into the wall opened and a tall, muscular man with a full beard stepped into the room, flipping through a folder he held in his massive hand. "We can," he said, without looking up. "And we did."
"This is bullshit," the Wolf growled. "You know it is, Hunts."
The Huntsman glanced up at the Wolf. "What I know is that you were found with Granny's blood matted in your fur. Her flesh in your teeth. Her DNA all over you, Wolf. So don't even *try* to pull your shit with me."
"Don't even try..." the Wolf whistled. "Wow. She really fucked me, didn't she?"
"Who are you talking about?"
The Wolf shook his head, his smile rueful. "This is it, then, huh? And what does she get out of it?"
"Wolf, I don't know what you're talking about. I'm here to figure out why you murdered Red's Grandmother and that's it. Now we can do this the easy way or-"
"Or the hard way. Yeah, yeah." The Wolf sighed. "Look, I'm gonna tell you exactly what I told the cops when they found me. Because it's the truth. I was at Red's last night. She wanted to make peace. The bad blood between the two of us was getting out of hand, and we both wanted it to end. So we met up, settled our differences over a few steaks, cleared the air."
"And next thing you knew, you woke up in a puddle of blood and my men all around you." The Huntsman rubbed his eyes. "I read the report, Wolf."
"Well that's the truth, damn it!"
"Sure it is. Sure it is." He closed the folder and pushed it to the side. "Let me tell you what I know. What I know is that we have a sweet, dead old woman. We have a girl with nobody to take care of her now. And we have a career con-"
"A career con! Do you hear yourself?!"
"A career con. In custody. With evidence *literally dripping off of you.* Like I said, Wolf. There's nothing you can do to weasel your way out of-"
A sharp ring cut the Huntsman off. He reached down and pulled out his cell phone, silencing it and stuffing it back into his pants.
The Huntsman cleared his throat. "There's nothing you can-"
"I saw that," the Wolf said.
"Excuse me?"
"That call. Who it was from. I saw the name on your screen." The Wolf shook his head. "So that's the game? You're unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable."
The Huntsman's jaw tightened as he stood. "We're done here. Enjoy prison, you sick animal."
"She's barely a kid, Hunts. You're what? Forty? Forty-five? And I'm the sick animal?"
The Huntsman's breath grew heavy, his fists tight.
"Hope she's worth it, man," Wolf huffed.
"Don't you say it."
"Hope she's as good to you as she was to me last night."
"Don't you fucking dare!" the Huntsman roared, seizing the Wolf by the throat and slamming him into the floor, his meaty fists rising and falling on the Wolf's sneering face.
Even when the officers stationed outside the room tried to pull him off, he wouldn't stop. "That's a taste of what prison will be like for a pretty little Wolf like you!" the Huntsman screamed as they dragged him out of the room.
"Yeah, we'll see about that," the Wolf said, spitting a sharp tooth onto the concrete floor. He looked up at one of the cops still standing in the room and grinned. "I'd like a lawyer now, if I may." | This was supposed to be an easy case. Too easy of a case, now that I think back. Some young number strolled into my office, crying about her missing grandmother. Figured the old coot just wandered off, that’s how you get if you live long enough. Normally it wouldn’t be my type of job but I needed the money, and the girl seemed good for it, all dolled up in red silk. I gave her the old yarn about how finding people and sniffing out their secrets is my job, and she seemed to calm down quickly. First crimson red flag I missed. She gave me the old lady’s address and my usual fee, in cash. Second red flag. I ran the background check on the whole family, turned out that granny was sitting pretty on a large inheritance from her late husband. These types don’t just wander off. Third strike, I was out. I just didn’t know it yet.
I drove through the downpour to the address, a large mansion in the countryside. The front door was locked. Figured the young miss wouldn’t mind if I looked around. “Do everything in your power to bring gran-gran back will you, Mr. Wolfe?” she told me, all teary-eyed. Can’t believe I swallowed the whole tale, as if it was a shot of hooch. So, I went around to the back, busted a lock and went on through. Took me a good fifteen minutes to find the master bedroom, plenty of time for even the backwoods police to get their asses over here.
Walking in, I found the old coot. She wasn’t wandering anywhere, I’d go back to church if she did, since a bullet through the heart tends to make people stay put. The gal was there too, draped over the corpse, crying her pretty little eyes out. I must have looked pretty stupid, since as I walked in, she looked up and smiled through the tears. “What big eyes you have, Mr. Wolfe.”
The sound of sirens growing louder spurred me into getting my sorry, stupid hide outta there. She laughed heartily as I scrambled downstairs and back into my car. As I pulled away, the cops were already hot on my trail. This case just got a whole lot hairier.
| |
[WP] The wolf was innocent, he was framed by red riding hood. | The lights flicked on and the Wolf pulled at the cuffs chaining him to the chair. "You can't do this!" he yelled, his voice ricocheting around the small, empty room.
The steel door set into the wall opened and a tall, muscular man with a full beard stepped into the room, flipping through a folder he held in his massive hand. "We can," he said, without looking up. "And we did."
"This is bullshit," the Wolf growled. "You know it is, Hunts."
The Huntsman glanced up at the Wolf. "What I know is that you were found with Granny's blood matted in your fur. Her flesh in your teeth. Her DNA all over you, Wolf. So don't even *try* to pull your shit with me."
"Don't even try..." the Wolf whistled. "Wow. She really fucked me, didn't she?"
"Who are you talking about?"
The Wolf shook his head, his smile rueful. "This is it, then, huh? And what does she get out of it?"
"Wolf, I don't know what you're talking about. I'm here to figure out why you murdered Red's Grandmother and that's it. Now we can do this the easy way or-"
"Or the hard way. Yeah, yeah." The Wolf sighed. "Look, I'm gonna tell you exactly what I told the cops when they found me. Because it's the truth. I was at Red's last night. She wanted to make peace. The bad blood between the two of us was getting out of hand, and we both wanted it to end. So we met up, settled our differences over a few steaks, cleared the air."
"And next thing you knew, you woke up in a puddle of blood and my men all around you." The Huntsman rubbed his eyes. "I read the report, Wolf."
"Well that's the truth, damn it!"
"Sure it is. Sure it is." He closed the folder and pushed it to the side. "Let me tell you what I know. What I know is that we have a sweet, dead old woman. We have a girl with nobody to take care of her now. And we have a career con-"
"A career con! Do you hear yourself?!"
"A career con. In custody. With evidence *literally dripping off of you.* Like I said, Wolf. There's nothing you can do to weasel your way out of-"
A sharp ring cut the Huntsman off. He reached down and pulled out his cell phone, silencing it and stuffing it back into his pants.
The Huntsman cleared his throat. "There's nothing you can-"
"I saw that," the Wolf said.
"Excuse me?"
"That call. Who it was from. I saw the name on your screen." The Wolf shook his head. "So that's the game? You're unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable."
The Huntsman's jaw tightened as he stood. "We're done here. Enjoy prison, you sick animal."
"She's barely a kid, Hunts. You're what? Forty? Forty-five? And I'm the sick animal?"
The Huntsman's breath grew heavy, his fists tight.
"Hope she's worth it, man," Wolf huffed.
"Don't you say it."
"Hope she's as good to you as she was to me last night."
"Don't you fucking dare!" the Huntsman roared, seizing the Wolf by the throat and slamming him into the floor, his meaty fists rising and falling on the Wolf's sneering face.
Even when the officers stationed outside the room tried to pull him off, he wouldn't stop. "That's a taste of what prison will be like for a pretty little Wolf like you!" the Huntsman screamed as they dragged him out of the room.
"Yeah, we'll see about that," the Wolf said, spitting a sharp tooth onto the concrete floor. He looked up at one of the cops still standing in the room and grinned. "I'd like a lawyer now, if I may." | "I have to say Red, this meal is lovely. You really seem to have gone to a lot of effort." The wolf looked up from his steak and gave a toothy grin to the woman sitting across the extravagantly arranged table. "I just want you to know I really do appreciate it."
It was an exquisite feast with more food than the wolf had ever seen in one place and had certainly required more effort than anyone had ever put in on his behalf. A bowl of brightly colored assorted fruits sat at one end of the table and opposite it a basket filled with breads. In between sat a crisp green salad and a range of sauces, dips, and dressings. At the center, steaming and red was a plate piled high with a steaks of various cuts, all cooked rare just the way the wolf liked it.
It had been years since the wolf had eaten so well. The last time in fact was probably more than a decade ago in this very room. He hadn't been invited to the "cottage" since he and Red had fallen out. That was what they called it, the cottage. In truth it was more of a manor. Quite sizable and with at least twenty acres of grounds. In his day he'd often been here as a guest of Red's grandmother, but she didn't hold as much sway over such formal occasions in her old age and he no longer received invitations.
"Well," Red returned the wolf's smile and politely wiped at the fruit juices around her mouth, "I thought it was time we put this whole feud behind us. Bury the hatchet, you know? It was never your fault anyway. Sometimes things just happen. They're out of your control." She took another bite of apple and then began to spoon a serving of salad onto her plate. "Besides, you and my grandmother always got on so well... I'd hate to think I came between you two."
The wolf took another bite of his steak and let out a contented sigh. It really was good. Not like the mutton he usually ate. He patted at his stomach and picked a bit of sinew from his teeth with a long claw before responding. "Don't be hard on yourself. It couldn't have been easy losing so much so fast. And I get it, as far as you were concerned I was part of the problem. I like to think I have a few redeeming qualities..." he chuckled, "But maybe they're just hard to see behind all this fur and these big old teeth. They do send the wrong message sometimes. I suppose it wasn't the best idea to stick me in a client facing position..."
"I suppose they do frighten just a bit. Still, like I said, it wasn't your fault. Sometimes things are out of your control. It was my risk to take in the first place. My gamble to lose. Maybe the clients didn't like you, maybe they didn't like me. Who's to say. All I can do now is solve the problem." said Red. "Say, would like come more?" She stabbed at one of the steaks with a fork and offered it to her guest. "There's quite a bit here and I'm afraid I won't eat it. Vegetarian you know."
"Oh no. No. I couldn't eat another bite. My eyes are a bit larger than my stomach really." The wolf replied. "But speaking of your grandmother... Why hasn't she joined us? Don't tell me she's off on another one of her grand adventures." He laughed and pointed to the large portrait on the wall above the fireplace. The matriarch of the Hood family in her younger years on one of her trips to Africa, decked out in her hunting gear, a large rifle at her side as she stood above the body of a bull elephant.
"That's sort of why I invited you here actually..." Said Red averting her gaze toward the napkin in her lap. "I'm afraid..." She stopped short. "She's just upstairs and you can go see her in a bit, but I'm afraid she's not well. She doesn't have long."
"Oh Red... I'm so sorry. I had no idea." His voice cracked a little as he said it. In better years they really had been quite close. He hated to think it had been so long since they'd spoken only to be brought together by this of all things. "I... Is there anything I can do? For you? Or for her. Either one."
"No." Red shook her head sadly. "I'm afraid there's not much to be done. That said... If you're done eating I'm sure she'd love to see you. Why don't you bring her a steak?" She placed a slice of meat onto an empty plate along with a fork and a large carving knife. She gestured to the blade. "Here. You'll want this too. She's pretty weak so you may need to cut it up for her. Why don't you go talk to her. I'll clean up here."
The wolf adjusted his chair and stood. As he took the plate he put a paw on Red's shoulder in what might have been a comforting gesture if it weren't for the claws. "Red... I really am sorry. And... Thanks. For doing all this. It means a lot."
*************
The house was darker upstairs, but just as well appointed as below. The walls were trimmed in dark wood and lined with expensive looking portraits and pedestals holding statues and interesting trinkets from around the world. At the top of the staircase was a portrait of Red's grandfather, long dead now. It was his Dye factory that had built the family fortune. The wolf couldn't help but to look away in shame. No matter what Red said he still felt responsible. He hadn't known the man, but the wolf had lost his money. Red's portion at least.
The hallway was quiet as the wolf approached the bedroom door. He felt weird about even being there. Like he was intruding on something. It was absurd, this was his friend he was going to see, but he still felt unwelcome and out of place. Every footstep felt like a cannon shot in the silence.
As he neared the door and his eyes adjusted to the dark he saw the note taped to the door. Red's handwriting.
*"I meant what I said. It wasn't your fault. Sometimes life throws you a curveball and you just have to play along. But I need to fix things and I've waited long enough. So here's YOUR curveball. Play along.*
*P.S. - I hope you enjoyed dinner."*
"Oh fuck." sighed the wolf.
The door to the pitch black room opened with a creek and he groped for the light switch. When he found it he immediately wished he hadn't. In a split second he was sprinting back downstairs and away from gory mess on the bed, the plate shattered on the floor where he'd dropped it alongside the knife, the meat on the floor now indistinguishable from the remains. But he knew it was too late. His large ears had picked up the sirens before he'd even read the note. The flashing lights in the window only confirmed what he already knew. | |
[WP] When a new president is elected, they are given a special security briefing. In reality, this is an old tradition where various directors, military officers and current ministers present fake evidence and compete to see who can convince the president of the most ridiculous things. | The three men solemnly stepped into the oval office. The CIA Director, who had several manilla folders, The Secretary of Defense, who carried three briefcases, and Presley Quinn, who had nothing but a folded up orange poster.
"As you know sir, it is a necessary for the Commander In Chief to be briefed on top-secret information as soon as possible." Said the CIA Director as he organized his folders.
"Of course." The President replied.
"And this information may come as a great shock to you, but I assure you everything we present to you today has been thoroughly studied and confirmed as fact."
"I would expect nothing less, let's begin."
The president stated.
The CIA Director pulled out a map of Syria with several blue circles drawn on it. "These areas marked in blue represent known terrorist headquarters. It's much too dangerous to send troops in, so we've been attacking them using drone strikes for the past four months, but we've yet to successfully hit any of these targets. Our ordinance appears to be prematurely detonating in the air."
"They have anti-ballistic systems that advanced?" The President said.
"Well sir, it appears they don't have anti-ballistics at all. Our spy planes have seen the terrorists congregating in meditative circles at these locations, and electromagnetic readings give us strong reason to believe that the terrorists have found a way to create psychic protective fields around themselves. We are currently employing Buddhist monks to help us develop a missile capable of penetrating any spiritual barriers."
The President silently stared at the CIA Director, who was biting his tongue.
"Incredible," He finally replied. "Continue your research at any cost."
"Yes sir." The CIA Director said as he sat back down, looking at the other two with satisfaction.
"Mr.President." Said the Secretary Of Defense as he opened two of his three briefcases, which contained a toy brontosaurus and a toy pterodactyl. "Do you know what these are?"
"Dinosaurs." He replied.
"Exactly. Dinosaurs." The Secretary of Defense stared at the President with grave intensity. "What if I told you that somewhere within our country, dinosaurs are being cloned in a secret facility, for the purpose of military deployment?"
"I would say that seems rather useless, given our current military arsenal."
"You might think that," The Secretary of Defense opened the third case, which revealed a tank made of lego bricks, surrounded by bank robber lego men. "But we've been able to modify this T-Rex here..." He picked up the brontosaurus toy "To be able to move twice as fast as a Jeep, have a natural saddle shape in it's back, and contain a panel in the back of it's head that controls several missile and machine gun systems. In the hundreds of combat drills we've run, these creatures beat traditional combat tanks every time. This is the future of ground warfare." He smashed the toy into the tank, breaking it into pieces."
The president sweeped a few lego blocks off his lap and shook his head.
"Very interesting. I'm excited to see what this project could become."
"As am I sir." The Secretary of Defense leaned back in his chair, smirking.
"And as for you Mr...?"
"Quinn." The final man stood up and unfolded his poster, which was a cross-section of human anatomy. "Sir, I assume you're familiar with the current model of the human body, as shown here?"
"Of course I am."
"And what do you make of this model?"
He flipped the poster around, revealing a similar cross-section, but the inside had no organs or bones. It was just yellow, with a line labeled 'sand' pointing to the middle of it.
"I don't know. What is that?"
"This, Mr. President, is the human body. All surgeons, doctors, medical officials, and anybody else who handles the supposed 'intricacies' of the human body are involved in perpetuating a world-wide plot to keep this fact secret."
"What fact?"
"We're all full of sand, Mr.President, and nothing else."
"Nonsense. People break bones and need surgeries all the time."
"Have you ever broken a bone or needed a surgery, Mr.President?"
A look of concern grew over the President's face.
"Of course not, because it's impossible to break what you don't have. My organization helps stage thousands of these surgeries and injuries each year, all to ensure the public doesn't know about the sand."
"But I've cut myself before. I've bled!" Desperation could be hear in the President's voice now.
"We inject a thin layer of self-replicating blood gelatin into the skin of every newborn, along with the vaccinations. It's all a lie, Mr.President. It's all sand."
"But...but why?"
"Can you imagine the damage this sort of thing would do if it were public knowledge?"
There was silence in the room.
The President stared intently into his hands.
"sand..." The President muttered.
"Sand, sir." Said Presley, stifling back a smile.
| "Mr President I want you to know I am telling you this in full confidence." Said the head of the Secret Service.
The President looked at him. "Yes go ahead."
"Well, we know this job is stressful. A man like yourself needs to be able to let off some steam. Ease that stress."
"Yes indeed." The President says.
"Yes Mr President. But we can not have a Monica Lewinsky if you know what I mean."
"Oh yes of course." Says the President.
"Alright sir. Here is the special key card. As the new President you now have access."
"Access to what?"
"If you go into the elevator sir. And use the key card you can press the button that takes you to B3. Usually it only goes to B2 sir. We have heard you have a thing for butts. Possibly things that are more exotic. We have some resources let's say on B3 that can help you and you can for sure release a little stress if you catch my drift sir."
"What? Is this for real?"
"Oh yes sir. We have quite a selection down there. For a man with an exotic taste or even a homegrown taste. Lots of strength and flexibility if you catch my drift sir."
"This is crazy." Says the President.
(End of Entry, DJ ROBO BISCUIT) | |
[WP] When a new president is elected, they are given a special security briefing. In reality, this is an old tradition where various directors, military officers and current ministers present fake evidence and compete to see who can convince the president of the most ridiculous things. | The three men solemnly stepped into the oval office. The CIA Director, who had several manilla folders, The Secretary of Defense, who carried three briefcases, and Presley Quinn, who had nothing but a folded up orange poster.
"As you know sir, it is a necessary for the Commander In Chief to be briefed on top-secret information as soon as possible." Said the CIA Director as he organized his folders.
"Of course." The President replied.
"And this information may come as a great shock to you, but I assure you everything we present to you today has been thoroughly studied and confirmed as fact."
"I would expect nothing less, let's begin."
The president stated.
The CIA Director pulled out a map of Syria with several blue circles drawn on it. "These areas marked in blue represent known terrorist headquarters. It's much too dangerous to send troops in, so we've been attacking them using drone strikes for the past four months, but we've yet to successfully hit any of these targets. Our ordinance appears to be prematurely detonating in the air."
"They have anti-ballistic systems that advanced?" The President said.
"Well sir, it appears they don't have anti-ballistics at all. Our spy planes have seen the terrorists congregating in meditative circles at these locations, and electromagnetic readings give us strong reason to believe that the terrorists have found a way to create psychic protective fields around themselves. We are currently employing Buddhist monks to help us develop a missile capable of penetrating any spiritual barriers."
The President silently stared at the CIA Director, who was biting his tongue.
"Incredible," He finally replied. "Continue your research at any cost."
"Yes sir." The CIA Director said as he sat back down, looking at the other two with satisfaction.
"Mr.President." Said the Secretary Of Defense as he opened two of his three briefcases, which contained a toy brontosaurus and a toy pterodactyl. "Do you know what these are?"
"Dinosaurs." He replied.
"Exactly. Dinosaurs." The Secretary of Defense stared at the President with grave intensity. "What if I told you that somewhere within our country, dinosaurs are being cloned in a secret facility, for the purpose of military deployment?"
"I would say that seems rather useless, given our current military arsenal."
"You might think that," The Secretary of Defense opened the third case, which revealed a tank made of lego bricks, surrounded by bank robber lego men. "But we've been able to modify this T-Rex here..." He picked up the brontosaurus toy "To be able to move twice as fast as a Jeep, have a natural saddle shape in it's back, and contain a panel in the back of it's head that controls several missile and machine gun systems. In the hundreds of combat drills we've run, these creatures beat traditional combat tanks every time. This is the future of ground warfare." He smashed the toy into the tank, breaking it into pieces."
The president sweeped a few lego blocks off his lap and shook his head.
"Very interesting. I'm excited to see what this project could become."
"As am I sir." The Secretary of Defense leaned back in his chair, smirking.
"And as for you Mr...?"
"Quinn." The final man stood up and unfolded his poster, which was a cross-section of human anatomy. "Sir, I assume you're familiar with the current model of the human body, as shown here?"
"Of course I am."
"And what do you make of this model?"
He flipped the poster around, revealing a similar cross-section, but the inside had no organs or bones. It was just yellow, with a line labeled 'sand' pointing to the middle of it.
"I don't know. What is that?"
"This, Mr. President, is the human body. All surgeons, doctors, medical officials, and anybody else who handles the supposed 'intricacies' of the human body are involved in perpetuating a world-wide plot to keep this fact secret."
"What fact?"
"We're all full of sand, Mr.President, and nothing else."
"Nonsense. People break bones and need surgeries all the time."
"Have you ever broken a bone or needed a surgery, Mr.President?"
A look of concern grew over the President's face.
"Of course not, because it's impossible to break what you don't have. My organization helps stage thousands of these surgeries and injuries each year, all to ensure the public doesn't know about the sand."
"But I've cut myself before. I've bled!" Desperation could be hear in the President's voice now.
"We inject a thin layer of self-replicating blood gelatin into the skin of every newborn, along with the vaccinations. It's all a lie, Mr.President. It's all sand."
"But...but why?"
"Can you imagine the damage this sort of thing would do if it were public knowledge?"
There was silence in the room.
The President stared intently into his hands.
"sand..." The President muttered.
"Sand, sir." Said Presley, stifling back a smile.
| The campaign had been hard on her, but, as she took her seat in the Oval Office, she felt with absolute certainty that she was ready for anything. Then, the peace of a president always short lived, a knock at the door interrupted her reverie.
“Come in!” she called.
In walked several suits and, at their center, him. He swaggered up to her desk as confidently as if it belonged to one of his employees, pursing his lips at the veneer.
“Look at this old desk! Oh, I love a desk with character! I love that desk. I love that it’s old. It’s prestigious and powerful and that’s what’s important...” he said, silently chuckling all the while.
“Thank you, it’s been in the office for generations.” she replied, struggling to swallow a unique animosity cultivated by the timbre of his voice.
“Actually, let’s get rid of the desk! Ha, I think she actually believed me, that I like this decrepit thing, just like she believed that they actually elected her president!” His mouth hung wide and his eyes squinched shut as a laugh played across his face in what felt like slow motion.
“Excuse me?” she said, forcefully pushing each syllable through her teeth.
“Now don't be unreasonable. Believe me, I tried. But these experts, they're saying you're crooked, and I don't know, but people are saying it. And my friends here, my friends are all ready to take you to a very nice jail cell. You can even keep the desk!”
“Get. Out. Of. My. Office.” she snarled.
Just then, a knock interrupted the impending screaming match.
“Hey! Guys! Sorry to interrupt, but I forgot my favorite pen when I was packing. And Madame President, congrats on passing your first test.” | |
[WP] You were born and lived out your entire life with a severely debilitating mental disability. You die and find out that there are no diseases or disabilities in death and begin to reflect on the life you lived for the first time. | "Goodnight Sarah, I love you" my mother was always the best to me no matter what i had done that day. I look up from the pool of water in a basin made out of cloud and notice that I have been left alone. The others that were with me on the ride here must not need as much time to remember everything as I do, they must have joined everyone else already.
As I look back down I can see my two brothers playing in the pool, I wish I could say I love them right there since this is one of my happiest memories but all I manage is their names and a smile. "Do you want to come swim with us Sarah" Ryan says, while Kevin is climbing out of the pool and approaching me. He helps me out of my chair and lends me his hand so I don't fall while I descend the steps into the water, Ryan comes over with a floaty to help me swim.
The image fades and i'm in my room blow drying my hair, its been dry for awhile but I like the feel of the warm air on my head. My side has been hurting a lot lately but I cant think of anything to say, I just keep rubbing it while my knuckles are getting raw from all the contact but it keeps the pain down a little. My Dad walks into the room telling me that I need to stop the blowdrier or my head will get too hot, he notices my rubbing and tear falls down his cheek. They have taken me to all the doctors but no one really knows whats wrong, my entire family sees how much pain i'm in but tries to keeps happy faces on for me. I just wish I could tell them how much I love all of them, but I can never manage more then a name or two.
"Sarah" I look up the place i am in is no longer empty, its my grandma but looking much younger and a lot healthier then I last saw her. "You have been looking at your pool of memories much longer then is usual I was starting to get worried, its not normally allowed but I thought I come see whats taking so long" grandma always a worrier. "I just am remembering how much I wanted to tell everyone but couldn't, even now its weird how I can express myself vocally to you". "Well you will get the chance to tell them everything when they get here, come on lets got get some tea and talk awhile like we never got to do before" | Eternity stretches out before me and I'm left with a thought:
Eternity isn't going to be nearly as interesting as life had been...
Schizophrenia can be a debilitating disease to onlookers who don't have it. I guess you can say it is debilitating, but then I guess it's all about how you look at it.
Growing up I never had the need to make "real" friends. Charlie, Samantha, Bob, and Ricky were always with me wherever I went. There were no "bed times" or "I've gotta be home for supper or my mom will kill me" or anything like that. My mother could never even yell at me to send my friends home as I was the only one who could see or talk to them.
I see now that I was just crazy and disabled. Funny how things are so much clearer after you're dead when it doesn't matter anyway.
Charlie was always my favorite. He always found a way to get me into trouble. Making me laugh at the most inappropriate times. I remember once long ago when he'd stood at the front of class and mimicked everything the teacher was doing. I'd spent a few days in detention for that outburst. It was all worth it. A tear streams from my eye knowing he never really existed. Can you mourn someone who never really existed? I guess I can.
People are staring at me as they stroll toward that bright light in the distance obviously wondering why I'm not heading toward eternity. Maybe they didn't have illusions for friends, illusions they'll never interact with again. Maybe they've got loved ones waiting for them in the beyond. Maybe...but I don't care. Let them gape, let them judge. I miss my friends.
I'd go back to them if I could. They were better friends than my own family. I'm not excited about eternity and that never ending slog through the afterlife. I don't know what's waiting for me ahead but I do know one thing that sickens my immortal soul more than anything else.
I'm more alone now than I'd ever been in my short life. | |
[WP] You were born and lived out your entire life with a severely debilitating mental disability. You die and find out that there are no diseases or disabilities in death and begin to reflect on the life you lived for the first time. | "Goodnight Sarah, I love you" my mother was always the best to me no matter what i had done that day. I look up from the pool of water in a basin made out of cloud and notice that I have been left alone. The others that were with me on the ride here must not need as much time to remember everything as I do, they must have joined everyone else already.
As I look back down I can see my two brothers playing in the pool, I wish I could say I love them right there since this is one of my happiest memories but all I manage is their names and a smile. "Do you want to come swim with us Sarah" Ryan says, while Kevin is climbing out of the pool and approaching me. He helps me out of my chair and lends me his hand so I don't fall while I descend the steps into the water, Ryan comes over with a floaty to help me swim.
The image fades and i'm in my room blow drying my hair, its been dry for awhile but I like the feel of the warm air on my head. My side has been hurting a lot lately but I cant think of anything to say, I just keep rubbing it while my knuckles are getting raw from all the contact but it keeps the pain down a little. My Dad walks into the room telling me that I need to stop the blowdrier or my head will get too hot, he notices my rubbing and tear falls down his cheek. They have taken me to all the doctors but no one really knows whats wrong, my entire family sees how much pain i'm in but tries to keeps happy faces on for me. I just wish I could tell them how much I love all of them, but I can never manage more then a name or two.
"Sarah" I look up the place i am in is no longer empty, its my grandma but looking much younger and a lot healthier then I last saw her. "You have been looking at your pool of memories much longer then is usual I was starting to get worried, its not normally allowed but I thought I come see whats taking so long" grandma always a worrier. "I just am remembering how much I wanted to tell everyone but couldn't, even now its weird how I can express myself vocally to you". "Well you will get the chance to tell them everything when they get here, come on lets got get some tea and talk awhile like we never got to do before" | It's a funny thing, feeling nothing. I'm not talking about the nothing in the sense of the numbness that only comes from someone close to you passing on, nor am I referring to the sweet relief of nothing from after your own passing. I mean the nothing that comes with depression, the depths of oblivion when even your wife, your family can't love you, or at least, that's what you feel.
But let me do one better for you, in this absurd commentary. How about the days when you feel everything, and not just feel it, but feel it tenfold. The days when the happiness, the sadness, anxiety and excitement, joy and pleasure, disappointment and even libido, all hit you time and time and time again, with the force of truck. Now those days; those are the ones that make you feel like a crazy person, and if I were to be someone on the outside, I'd look and see a crazy person too. I mean, who couldn't? That rollercoaster is on display for the world to see, even the least adept person in the world can see something is wrong in the head of that person.
Well, that person was me, and now I am an outsider looking in.
Having a lot of time comes naturally when you're not alive. Your countdown to death is over, there's nothing in the near or far future, no release any more. What's more, here, my problems... well I don't have them any more. Here, there's no such thing as being depressed, nor is there such a thing as hypomania. I was bipolar when I was alive, but here I'm... normal. Everybody is. I've looked and talked to many people who were crazy, whether diagnosed or not, and a lot more who were completely normal back when they were alive, and it's all gone here. Everyone is even. It's the Communist Soviet Union of personality.
I look back on my life a lot. There were some days I made bad choices, said terrible things, thought horrific thoughts. It's strange; when I think back to those moments, it's like I'm there, a spectator to my own mind, my own thoughts providing a morbid narration of the decision making process for my older, wiser, normalised self.
I'm back to the day I decided to give up on my first child. I was only 16, and she 15, we weren't old enough to look after ourselves independently, but I regret it all the same. It was a decision made out of fear and anxiety. I'm sat in the hospital, and she's in the room having the procedure. I run, not being able to deal with what's happening. Not physically run, but I walk away all the same, and I know it'll mentally torture her, but all I'm thinking of is self-preservation.
I'm 17 now, both of my grandparents are gone. I should be in class, I should be setting up my future, that's what they want for me. My tutor has been bothering my parents for weeks about my lack of attendance. I ignore him, my mother, I don't go, and I disappear for two weeks; to my best friend, who needs me, her mother having just passed, too.
Now, I'm 19, with a new job, a new city. I know I can't afford my apartment, and to make myself feel better... I get a credit card and overspend on it.
Now, 21, and crippled with debt, living back with my parents. My whole income is spent on getting back to work every day, and paying off my debts, which just keep growing. I should have cut that credit card up.
23, now, and I've moved to another country, running away from my debts rather than dealing with them.
Now I'm 25 and I'm stood on the precipice. My life has caught up with me. I'm ready to jump...
And now I'm here. Normal. Debt free. Worry free. Feeling the same as the majority of people did through their lives. There's no massing up of emotion, and no release to match it, either positive or negative. No music track brings a swelling of feeling, no images conjure the nostalgia I used to feel, no smile makes my heart jump in my chest the way it used to.
"I need something."
"Go on, my son. Make your request; here in my afterlife, we can do anything."
"I need to go back." | |
[WP] One second your in your house, the next you're standing in a living room surrounded by three demons. They drop their Ouija board and scream as they run to their bathroom and lock the door. "I told you we shouldn't have touched it!" | *Not again*, I thought to myself, as I let out a hopeless sigh.
Ever since I set foot in that bloody temple, I've had nothing but bizarrely magical experiences. It sounds like something out of a Disney flick, but no, this was something much less exciting and much more annoying.
*How will I introduce myself this time? Should I scratch at the door? Make stupid hissing noises as if I was some sort of demonic snake minded creature from Hell itself?*
*Nah*, I smiled, *I'll go for the casual approach. These guys are already scared witless.*
I knocked on the door. Their hearts almost knocked through their ribs.
One of them pleaded, with all the might of a kitten trying to emulate a lion:
"Leave us alone, we're sorry! Go back from whence you came!"
*Whence?*
My eyes nearly rolled out of their sockets.
"Whence? What do you think this is, some medieval LARP? Look, I have no idea where I am. I was just about to shower and get ready for work when you kids accidentally summoned me."
A trembling voice replied:
"But how do we know you're not a demon??"
I looked up to the ceiling. On it were pictures of orcs and elves. The walls of the room were plastered with busty ladies in skimpy armor.
"Well, opening the door would help. Didn't you even look at me before bolting? Or are you guys so wimpy that a little flash of light caused all that screaming?"
Silence. Silence that lasted a minute, but felt like a lifetime.
*I just want a taxi home*...
Slowly, the door creaked open.
In front of me stood 3 teenage boys, all quite tubby and spotty. I would call them generic nerds, but considering my passion for the occult got me into this situation, who am I to judge?
"How did you get here?" asked the long haired, greasy one. "We thought all that Ouija board stuff was nonsense, we were just trying to have a fun Friday night."
I looked at them, with the disdain of a vegan looking at a medium rare rib-eye.
"It's a long story."
| It was 10 in the morning. I had just woken up. It was my first day off work in 2 weeks. I was sitting in my living room about to smoke some weed to get my day going and watching some TV. I was about to take my first hit when suddenly I was transported to a dark place surrounded by demons and candles. They all suddenly began running and one dropped what seemed to be a Ouija board and got inside a bathroom.
"I told you we shouldn't have touched it." I hear the demons say from the bathroom. I was still standing in what appears to be their living room. It seemed to be night outside. That was strange being that it was morning just a second ago. Then again demons just ran away from so that was probably even stranger.
"Um hey uh guys." I said Ackwardly
"Oh shit dude it's talking to us." I heard from inside. "What should we do?"
"I don't know just fucking say something." Another voice said.
"H... Hhhhh..hi there." they respond me.
"Hey so this might sound kinda strange to you guys, but um I have no idea where the fuck I am, so uh, maybe you can help me out." I said to them
"Well w.wwwww..wwwe might have kinda summoned you fro.....from hell" I herd one respond very nervously.
"What no I'm not the one that's supposed to be in hell you are." I responded. "Now tell me the truth did I fucking die or something and you are playing tricks on me."
"Oh shit dude I think we are getting him mad." I heard a voice whisper inside.
"Yeah he wants us in hell dude we fucked up so bad." I heard another one whisper.
I let out a big sigh. "OK just come out I won't do anything to you." I said.
"How can we trust a demon." They suddenly say.
"I'm not the... " I say before reconsidering." Just come out I promise I won't do anything. Here as a matter a fact do you kids smoke weed."
"Y...yyyyy...yeah." I hear one of them say.
Then I hear a loud hit.
"What the fuck man what was that for." I hear the same voice again.
"Why the fuck do you answer that." I hear one of them whisper.
I sigh again. "OK fine don't come out. I'll be out hear waiting with food and beverages chilling smoking this weed."
I begin to walk to the kitchen. It was a good thing I decided to put my stash in my pocket. Now I had plenty of weed yo try and figure out what the fuck was going on. They seemed like teenagers. At least that's how I would see teenagers acting. Well it not like I'm any different at 19.
I get to the kitchen and open the fridge door. Inside is some werid gooey shit in a plate and wrapped in some plastic wrap. Under it I see some green juice with what seems like shit pieces inside. I close it immediately.
"Well fuck it at least I have weed." I said to myself as I walked back to the living room.
I sit down on there couch and begin lighting my bowl. I then blow the smoke towards the bathroom.
"What is that?" I hear one of them whisper to the others.
"I don't know it kinda smells like weed but a lot stronger." Another one says.
"Guys I can hear you perfectly fine just come out here and smoke some weed with me." I scream at them. "Don't you think if I really wanted to hurt you I would have broken the door already."
They began opening the door.
" You sure about this what if he is lying." I hear the farthest one say.
"Yeah its fine, he is right if he wanted to he would have just gone in the door didn't even have a lock." The most in front says.
They eventually make there way towards me and sit down.
"So how old are you guys?" I ask handing the pipe to the closest one.
"We are all 15." the one that I handed the pipe to says. "My name is Matt."
"My N.. Name is Mike." The second closest to me says.
"My N... Name is Earl." the farthest one says.
"Well nice to meet you guys I'm Jose." I say.
We begin smoking and talking. They told me about times they had gotten high and I told them about times I have gotten high and by the end of it we had smoked a bowl.
"Damn you guys want me to load another one?" I ask.
"Dude do you see the candle changing colors too." Earl says.
"Yeah." Matt says.
"Yo are you guys alright?" I ask getting scared this might have been too much for them.
"I'm getting freaked out man at what time do your parents get back dude?" Mike says.
"Like at 12 what time is it? " Earl asks
"Shit man its 11:50." Matt says.
"Yo yo calm the fuck down." I tell them. "Alright we need to find a way to get me back."
"How do we do that?" Earl asks me. "We don't even know how you got here."
I begin scratching my head. How do demons get sent back in the movies.
"Did you guys chant something when you got me here?" I ask.
"Yeah." Matt answers me
"Well then chant that backwards with the Ouija board in the middle." I say to them
They all quickly surround me and begin chanting. Then all of a sudden the world goes black. Then I am back in my house. I look at the clock and it reads 10:03.
| |
[WP] One second your in your house, the next you're standing in a living room surrounded by three demons. They drop their Ouija board and scream as they run to their bathroom and lock the door. "I told you we shouldn't have touched it!" | I felt like some disembodied god being, hanging I space, though I was concealed in the darkness presumably.
I know in a moment what's happened, and realize I have to act boldly and quickly, as only the demons who summoned me can return me home.
The room I found myself in was a unique form of darkness. From the circle in the middle of the room where they had made a small pentagram, light seemed to diminish, as though the darkness were hungry, it swallowed the light effortlessly. I kicked open the bathroom door.
The demons infront of me were gnarled in their faces with thick bones, the tallest of the three, with a dark-red pigmet of skin and yellow surrounding is black pupils stood with his back against the bathroom wall,
The shortest of the three basically jumped ontop of the wooden box in the ground which I can only assume was a latrine of sorts, his eyes were white in the center contrasting his blue face, and he looked at the other two demons fearfully, as if trying to figure out what he should do.
The third demon, presumably female with a yellow tinge to her rough skin looked on the edge of fight and flight, not sure if she could attack or not.
Despite their normal and average statures and builds, I could tell that their actual material was made of something other than human, something supernatural and inconceivably strong. I had no doubt I my mind that they could rip me limb from limb if they so chose. I took a deep breath.
FOOLS! " I declared, in a booming voice
throwing my frail, human arms above my head stupidly in the dark
"Why have you summoned me to this wretched, despicable place?!"
The demons quaked at that, even the female lost her slight edge of confidence, though she seemed suspicious, moreso than the other two.
"Fucking hell Richard" the blue demon said in almost a whisper to the red demon, "I told you, I told you we shouldn't have touched it!"
"Relax! " Richard said, trying to calm the other, "Relax Thomas, were in the light, it can't come into the light, it can't leave the darkness"
I lowered my voice to a quieter, serious tone, letting it seep out of the darkness toward them
"You fools, you petulant children, awoke me from the aeons. Brought me here, to this realm, you call it a home? a place of being? I've swallowed civilizations, I've drank the souls thousand year old cultures, watched them all grow and flourish, rise to power, and decay, thrashed upon the sands of eternity like waves on a forgotten beach" I said, hoping they knew what beaches were.
"You have brought me here, " I continued" Yet you don't even know my name? Tell me, do you know what deity it is with which you contend?" I said, seriously hoping they didn't.
"AW MAN, FUCK MAN" The female said "It's U.G man, I FUCKING TOLD YOU RICHARD, MAN, DON'T FUCK WITH IT, AND NOW YOU FUCKING SUMMONED THE FIRST VOICE!
I tried to hide the clearing of my throat "Then you know what fear I will bring, what desolation! You know that I know you, and all you have been and will be. Richard, Thomas, and, YOU. YOU KNOW WHO I AM! then you must know, that as I am now here I must grant you three wishes before you can return me home.
HOWEVER, because you have earned my disfavor for summoning me dishonorably I will grant them in a context suiting to each of your fates, which I have preordained, from my realm of the stars.
Richard stepped forward first, to the light of the door, so boldly I almost thought he'd come further, and I pretty much shit my pants in fear, I flinched in the dark but he couldn't see
"I Wish for power great U.G! "Show me power!"
"VERY WELL!" I said. You will know the truest power knowable to demon kind. That is the power of knowledge. You will have knowledge beyond any else, none else shall have a fraction of the vast library of resources that you do to draw upon! Does this please you?" I asked. His yellow eyes were flashed with brilliant joy and he nodded "Very much so U.G! thank you!
"Thomas come forward!" I said
The blue, heaver demon stepped forward, eyes still fearful, slightly neurotic, he actually physically bowed and I nearly laughed but caught myself, remembering my life was on the line
"I wish for serenity!" he said meekly
"Serenity.. Hm.. " I thought quietly, "Serenity comes to those who work and strive Thomas, it comes in a moment of bliss when the stars, which I rule, align, and one reaps the fruits of a fearless ascent from darkness. If you work, by the guidance in which I have changed your course today, you will achieve serenity in only 7 short years"
"Thank you U.G!" he said and stepped back.
"AND YOU. I said, to the third demon whose name I had no idea of. She was disturbingly quiet and astute "Come forward into the center of the light!"
She did, and more confidently so then I had anticipated, which worried me further
"My wish, she said "Is to see your face. So that I can know the face of god"
I pretty much choked on my own throat at that point.
"Do you know, " I asked, "What has ever happened to those who have laid eyes on the face of god?" She stared into the darkness at me, shaking her head
"Once, I appeared In my truest form before a demon who wished to see me. He was driven mad by the ordinariness my appearance. He could not comprehend that god , something so powerful, could be so ordinary, and mundane. He had always craved power, and upon seeing me, his dreams crumbled, seemed to lose meaning.
The second time, was under the wish of a demon who was a clergy member, seeking to know my essence to achieve a state of liberation. When I appeared for him he felt his being surrender, and so achieved his liberation through that means. But it was as though the candle of his life was brought to extinction. He lost the essence of what he was and lived in eternal emptiness.
And the third to wish to see me was a demoness like yourself " I said carefully now, realizing my plan had to work or I'd be killed.
"She saw my form, and was in awe. . Her realization, that something so mundane, so ordinary, could have created all of existence drove her to self destruction. Madness took her, absorbed her soul. Knowing this.. Do you still wish to see me?"
"I DO" she said challengingly, having caught onto the ploy, it seemed
"Shit" I thought to myself, "Very well then! I WILL APPEAR! BRACE YOURSELVES!" I said in a booming, thunderous voice that seemed to shake the small bathroom
The other two demons looked manic, terrified "Catherine what are you DOING" they were saying "Are you insane didn't you hear what he said?!" Their fear was contagious because even her confidence faltered then "We'll all be killed, or driven insane!" Thomas was saying.
"I-I'm not afraid, appear! " She was saying .
Richard was yelling then, "Stop Catherine! U.G, she doesn't mean what she says!"
Thomas moved from his spot by the latrine to grab her and try to shake sense into her
I ran forward then, into the light of the bathroom, and into the three quarreling demons.
I will say. Such looks of awe I have never seen on the two males faces, as my skinny, naked, human form ran by them,
and such shock, and contempt, I have never seen on a face, as that of the demonesses as she realized her intuition was right, and she had been fooled.
I Leapt past them, into the latrine.
"Weeeee!" I said, raising my arms above my head, as I plunged into the pooey abyss below.
The very final end.
Fin | It was 10 in the morning. I had just woken up. It was my first day off work in 2 weeks. I was sitting in my living room about to smoke some weed to get my day going and watching some TV. I was about to take my first hit when suddenly I was transported to a dark place surrounded by demons and candles. They all suddenly began running and one dropped what seemed to be a Ouija board and got inside a bathroom.
"I told you we shouldn't have touched it." I hear the demons say from the bathroom. I was still standing in what appears to be their living room. It seemed to be night outside. That was strange being that it was morning just a second ago. Then again demons just ran away from so that was probably even stranger.
"Um hey uh guys." I said Ackwardly
"Oh shit dude it's talking to us." I heard from inside. "What should we do?"
"I don't know just fucking say something." Another voice said.
"H... Hhhhh..hi there." they respond me.
"Hey so this might sound kinda strange to you guys, but um I have no idea where the fuck I am, so uh, maybe you can help me out." I said to them
"Well w.wwwww..wwwe might have kinda summoned you fro.....from hell" I herd one respond very nervously.
"What no I'm not the one that's supposed to be in hell you are." I responded. "Now tell me the truth did I fucking die or something and you are playing tricks on me."
"Oh shit dude I think we are getting him mad." I heard a voice whisper inside.
"Yeah he wants us in hell dude we fucked up so bad." I heard another one whisper.
I let out a big sigh. "OK just come out I won't do anything to you." I said.
"How can we trust a demon." They suddenly say.
"I'm not the... " I say before reconsidering." Just come out I promise I won't do anything. Here as a matter a fact do you kids smoke weed."
"Y...yyyyy...yeah." I hear one of them say.
Then I hear a loud hit.
"What the fuck man what was that for." I hear the same voice again.
"Why the fuck do you answer that." I hear one of them whisper.
I sigh again. "OK fine don't come out. I'll be out hear waiting with food and beverages chilling smoking this weed."
I begin to walk to the kitchen. It was a good thing I decided to put my stash in my pocket. Now I had plenty of weed yo try and figure out what the fuck was going on. They seemed like teenagers. At least that's how I would see teenagers acting. Well it not like I'm any different at 19.
I get to the kitchen and open the fridge door. Inside is some werid gooey shit in a plate and wrapped in some plastic wrap. Under it I see some green juice with what seems like shit pieces inside. I close it immediately.
"Well fuck it at least I have weed." I said to myself as I walked back to the living room.
I sit down on there couch and begin lighting my bowl. I then blow the smoke towards the bathroom.
"What is that?" I hear one of them whisper to the others.
"I don't know it kinda smells like weed but a lot stronger." Another one says.
"Guys I can hear you perfectly fine just come out here and smoke some weed with me." I scream at them. "Don't you think if I really wanted to hurt you I would have broken the door already."
They began opening the door.
" You sure about this what if he is lying." I hear the farthest one say.
"Yeah its fine, he is right if he wanted to he would have just gone in the door didn't even have a lock." The most in front says.
They eventually make there way towards me and sit down.
"So how old are you guys?" I ask handing the pipe to the closest one.
"We are all 15." the one that I handed the pipe to says. "My name is Matt."
"My N.. Name is Mike." The second closest to me says.
"My N... Name is Earl." the farthest one says.
"Well nice to meet you guys I'm Jose." I say.
We begin smoking and talking. They told me about times they had gotten high and I told them about times I have gotten high and by the end of it we had smoked a bowl.
"Damn you guys want me to load another one?" I ask.
"Dude do you see the candle changing colors too." Earl says.
"Yeah." Matt says.
"Yo are you guys alright?" I ask getting scared this might have been too much for them.
"I'm getting freaked out man at what time do your parents get back dude?" Mike says.
"Like at 12 what time is it? " Earl asks
"Shit man its 11:50." Matt says.
"Yo yo calm the fuck down." I tell them. "Alright we need to find a way to get me back."
"How do we do that?" Earl asks me. "We don't even know how you got here."
I begin scratching my head. How do demons get sent back in the movies.
"Did you guys chant something when you got me here?" I ask.
"Yeah." Matt answers me
"Well then chant that backwards with the Ouija board in the middle." I say to them
They all quickly surround me and begin chanting. Then all of a sudden the world goes black. Then I am back in my house. I look at the clock and it reads 10:03.
| |
[WP] One second your in your house, the next you're standing in a living room surrounded by three demons. They drop their Ouija board and scream as they run to their bathroom and lock the door. "I told you we shouldn't have touched it!" | ...First time poster. I'm not a writer, but these prompts are fun to think about.
It was a Sunday. Day of rest, my ass. Six grueling hours in the heat. My yard had taken a turn for the worse and today I conquered it. Three years of weeds and neglect were dealt with today. My yard looked like a horror victim with all the dandelions, weeds, and trees I tore from the ground.
But it was done. I was done. I knew what had to come next. What kept me going for the last five hours.
I stripped off my clothes once I got there. Why did we think it was a good idea to keep the air conditioning off today? UP on the plunger. UP on the cold water spout. I jumped in the cold shower and felt the relief I needed. After I lathered my body in soap, I closed my eyes and started working on my sweaty, sweaty, hair. I was going to get clean, then go get fucked up at tonight's Halloween party.
"AAAAAAAAHHHHH"
"NOOOO"
"OH MY SATAN"
What the hell was that? I tried to open my eyes but the shampoo got in them and I screamed loudly. I tried to wash it out, but the water wasn't there anymore. All I was left with was soapy suds all over my body.
"Jesus Christ, Damien. Turn the water back on", I yelled.
"HE KNOWS MY NAME!"
"HE INVOKED THE POWERS OF JESUS"
"I told you we shouldn't have touched it!"
Whatever. Damien and his stupid pranks. Unable to open my eyes, I reached for the towel. No towel. Great. At least I know where he is from his screaming. "Daaamieeeeeen" I said, waving my arms to feel for objects. "I'm coming to give you a big soapy huuuuuugggg".
"NoooOOOOOOO"
Even though I couldn't see, I knew where that bastard was from his cries. He was going to smell like fresh lavendar by the time I was done with him. It was difficult trying to feel my way to the door, though. Nothing was where I thought it would be. Oh well, I was blind but I knew where I needed to go.
BANG. I finally reached the bathroom door. But it was locked? How? "Daaamiieeeeen. The power of Christ compels you to open this door for me......"
"AHHHH"
"WE"RE DEAD"
"I told you we shouldn't have touched it!"
Oh, it felt like a different door altogether. It seems like Damien replaced our normal door with a rotten chunk of wood he found somewhere. A few shoulder charges should deal with it.
BANG
BANG
BANG
Finally through the door. I knew he was close. I lunged and grabbed something. "Time for a hug to cleanse your sins, Damien." I pulled him forward and rubbed all the soap I could over that pranking punk. As I did, I rubbed my eyes over his warm clothing to get the soap out of them.
When was finally able to see, nothing made sense. I was in some strange room and there were three weirdos here. Two were in the corner trying to scoop shit on themselves and the third was in my arms and convulsing like a stuck pig. I let go of him immediately and saw him fall to the floor. After a few more convulsions, he stopped and lay still. I hope he didn't just OD on something.
I turned to the other two and yelled, "Jesus! What in God's name is going on here?!"
They both shivered and passed out. Great. Wherever I was, it everyone clearly had too much to drink. Oh well. Time to clean them off and figure out where I am.
| It was 10 in the morning. I had just woken up. It was my first day off work in 2 weeks. I was sitting in my living room about to smoke some weed to get my day going and watching some TV. I was about to take my first hit when suddenly I was transported to a dark place surrounded by demons and candles. They all suddenly began running and one dropped what seemed to be a Ouija board and got inside a bathroom.
"I told you we shouldn't have touched it." I hear the demons say from the bathroom. I was still standing in what appears to be their living room. It seemed to be night outside. That was strange being that it was morning just a second ago. Then again demons just ran away from so that was probably even stranger.
"Um hey uh guys." I said Ackwardly
"Oh shit dude it's talking to us." I heard from inside. "What should we do?"
"I don't know just fucking say something." Another voice said.
"H... Hhhhh..hi there." they respond me.
"Hey so this might sound kinda strange to you guys, but um I have no idea where the fuck I am, so uh, maybe you can help me out." I said to them
"Well w.wwwww..wwwe might have kinda summoned you fro.....from hell" I herd one respond very nervously.
"What no I'm not the one that's supposed to be in hell you are." I responded. "Now tell me the truth did I fucking die or something and you are playing tricks on me."
"Oh shit dude I think we are getting him mad." I heard a voice whisper inside.
"Yeah he wants us in hell dude we fucked up so bad." I heard another one whisper.
I let out a big sigh. "OK just come out I won't do anything to you." I said.
"How can we trust a demon." They suddenly say.
"I'm not the... " I say before reconsidering." Just come out I promise I won't do anything. Here as a matter a fact do you kids smoke weed."
"Y...yyyyy...yeah." I hear one of them say.
Then I hear a loud hit.
"What the fuck man what was that for." I hear the same voice again.
"Why the fuck do you answer that." I hear one of them whisper.
I sigh again. "OK fine don't come out. I'll be out hear waiting with food and beverages chilling smoking this weed."
I begin to walk to the kitchen. It was a good thing I decided to put my stash in my pocket. Now I had plenty of weed yo try and figure out what the fuck was going on. They seemed like teenagers. At least that's how I would see teenagers acting. Well it not like I'm any different at 19.
I get to the kitchen and open the fridge door. Inside is some werid gooey shit in a plate and wrapped in some plastic wrap. Under it I see some green juice with what seems like shit pieces inside. I close it immediately.
"Well fuck it at least I have weed." I said to myself as I walked back to the living room.
I sit down on there couch and begin lighting my bowl. I then blow the smoke towards the bathroom.
"What is that?" I hear one of them whisper to the others.
"I don't know it kinda smells like weed but a lot stronger." Another one says.
"Guys I can hear you perfectly fine just come out here and smoke some weed with me." I scream at them. "Don't you think if I really wanted to hurt you I would have broken the door already."
They began opening the door.
" You sure about this what if he is lying." I hear the farthest one say.
"Yeah its fine, he is right if he wanted to he would have just gone in the door didn't even have a lock." The most in front says.
They eventually make there way towards me and sit down.
"So how old are you guys?" I ask handing the pipe to the closest one.
"We are all 15." the one that I handed the pipe to says. "My name is Matt."
"My N.. Name is Mike." The second closest to me says.
"My N... Name is Earl." the farthest one says.
"Well nice to meet you guys I'm Jose." I say.
We begin smoking and talking. They told me about times they had gotten high and I told them about times I have gotten high and by the end of it we had smoked a bowl.
"Damn you guys want me to load another one?" I ask.
"Dude do you see the candle changing colors too." Earl says.
"Yeah." Matt says.
"Yo are you guys alright?" I ask getting scared this might have been too much for them.
"I'm getting freaked out man at what time do your parents get back dude?" Mike says.
"Like at 12 what time is it? " Earl asks
"Shit man its 11:50." Matt says.
"Yo yo calm the fuck down." I tell them. "Alright we need to find a way to get me back."
"How do we do that?" Earl asks me. "We don't even know how you got here."
I begin scratching my head. How do demons get sent back in the movies.
"Did you guys chant something when you got me here?" I ask.
"Yeah." Matt answers me
"Well then chant that backwards with the Ouija board in the middle." I say to them
They all quickly surround me and begin chanting. Then all of a sudden the world goes black. Then I am back in my house. I look at the clock and it reads 10:03.
| |
[WP] One second your in your house, the next you're standing in a living room surrounded by three demons. They drop their Ouija board and scream as they run to their bathroom and lock the door. "I told you we shouldn't have touched it!" | Borogoroth trembled as he hid behind the shower curtain. He pointed a shaking finger at Kayzah, empress of blood and despair and said between panicked gasps - "Why do you always have to have things your way!?"
Kayzah slapped him across the face with her clawed hand. "Oh so this is my fault too? Why don't we just make everything my fault!?" She exhaled angrily, the screaming skulls of flame emanating from her nose burning through a bottle of asprin on the wash basin.
"Guys, can we please not do this right now" said Amulgah, firedemon of Hatred, who had a feeling that coming tonight might not be the best idea. Things had been weird between Borgoroth and Kayzah every since they had broken up but they promised things were better now and they were "totally chill to hang". Amulgah shook his head. They were not chill to hang.
"We have bigger problems right now" said Amulgah, rapping at the bathroom door with his staff of infinite misery, gesturing towards the human who was now in their living room.
Borgoroth and Kayzah looked at each other and grunted. Amulgah opened the door a crack and said "Lets going to ask it what it wants." The three demons from the realm of horror, tip toed slowly to the door where they found the human on his cellphone.
"Um.." said Borgoroth, but was silenced by the human who raised a hand to his lips and then pointed at the phone. The demons looked at each other awkwardly while the human continued to speak on the phone.
"Well if your GPS is off, why do you even drive an Uber!?" screamed the human into the phone. He hung up and looked at the demons. "Sorry it's like impossible to give directions to these guys" he said. "I'm Gabe" he said looking around, "sweet pad".
The pentagram on Kayzah's chest glowed a deep red. "Thank you" she said. "Must've cost a pretty penny!" chuckled Gabe, slapping Borgoroth on the shoulder. Borgoroth took a step back and rubbed his shoulder absently.
"What do you seek?" said Amulgah, but Gabe was already on the stairs looking up at the second floor.
"What is this a five bedroom?" he said coming back into the living room. "Four bedrooms and a study/torture room" smiled Kayzah. Borgoroth frowned at her.
Gabe fished around in his blazer and drew out a card.
With a big smile he handed it over to Amulgah, "I'm looking at getting one of these myself." Amulgah looked down at the card he was holding. It said, "Gabe Becky, Mortgage Bond Trader".
Amulgah looked up with a big smile. "Oh, you are one of us!" | It was 10 in the morning. I had just woken up. It was my first day off work in 2 weeks. I was sitting in my living room about to smoke some weed to get my day going and watching some TV. I was about to take my first hit when suddenly I was transported to a dark place surrounded by demons and candles. They all suddenly began running and one dropped what seemed to be a Ouija board and got inside a bathroom.
"I told you we shouldn't have touched it." I hear the demons say from the bathroom. I was still standing in what appears to be their living room. It seemed to be night outside. That was strange being that it was morning just a second ago. Then again demons just ran away from so that was probably even stranger.
"Um hey uh guys." I said Ackwardly
"Oh shit dude it's talking to us." I heard from inside. "What should we do?"
"I don't know just fucking say something." Another voice said.
"H... Hhhhh..hi there." they respond me.
"Hey so this might sound kinda strange to you guys, but um I have no idea where the fuck I am, so uh, maybe you can help me out." I said to them
"Well w.wwwww..wwwe might have kinda summoned you fro.....from hell" I herd one respond very nervously.
"What no I'm not the one that's supposed to be in hell you are." I responded. "Now tell me the truth did I fucking die or something and you are playing tricks on me."
"Oh shit dude I think we are getting him mad." I heard a voice whisper inside.
"Yeah he wants us in hell dude we fucked up so bad." I heard another one whisper.
I let out a big sigh. "OK just come out I won't do anything to you." I said.
"How can we trust a demon." They suddenly say.
"I'm not the... " I say before reconsidering." Just come out I promise I won't do anything. Here as a matter a fact do you kids smoke weed."
"Y...yyyyy...yeah." I hear one of them say.
Then I hear a loud hit.
"What the fuck man what was that for." I hear the same voice again.
"Why the fuck do you answer that." I hear one of them whisper.
I sigh again. "OK fine don't come out. I'll be out hear waiting with food and beverages chilling smoking this weed."
I begin to walk to the kitchen. It was a good thing I decided to put my stash in my pocket. Now I had plenty of weed yo try and figure out what the fuck was going on. They seemed like teenagers. At least that's how I would see teenagers acting. Well it not like I'm any different at 19.
I get to the kitchen and open the fridge door. Inside is some werid gooey shit in a plate and wrapped in some plastic wrap. Under it I see some green juice with what seems like shit pieces inside. I close it immediately.
"Well fuck it at least I have weed." I said to myself as I walked back to the living room.
I sit down on there couch and begin lighting my bowl. I then blow the smoke towards the bathroom.
"What is that?" I hear one of them whisper to the others.
"I don't know it kinda smells like weed but a lot stronger." Another one says.
"Guys I can hear you perfectly fine just come out here and smoke some weed with me." I scream at them. "Don't you think if I really wanted to hurt you I would have broken the door already."
They began opening the door.
" You sure about this what if he is lying." I hear the farthest one say.
"Yeah its fine, he is right if he wanted to he would have just gone in the door didn't even have a lock." The most in front says.
They eventually make there way towards me and sit down.
"So how old are you guys?" I ask handing the pipe to the closest one.
"We are all 15." the one that I handed the pipe to says. "My name is Matt."
"My N.. Name is Mike." The second closest to me says.
"My N... Name is Earl." the farthest one says.
"Well nice to meet you guys I'm Jose." I say.
We begin smoking and talking. They told me about times they had gotten high and I told them about times I have gotten high and by the end of it we had smoked a bowl.
"Damn you guys want me to load another one?" I ask.
"Dude do you see the candle changing colors too." Earl says.
"Yeah." Matt says.
"Yo are you guys alright?" I ask getting scared this might have been too much for them.
"I'm getting freaked out man at what time do your parents get back dude?" Mike says.
"Like at 12 what time is it? " Earl asks
"Shit man its 11:50." Matt says.
"Yo yo calm the fuck down." I tell them. "Alright we need to find a way to get me back."
"How do we do that?" Earl asks me. "We don't even know how you got here."
I begin scratching my head. How do demons get sent back in the movies.
"Did you guys chant something when you got me here?" I ask.
"Yeah." Matt answers me
"Well then chant that backwards with the Ouija board in the middle." I say to them
They all quickly surround me and begin chanting. Then all of a sudden the world goes black. Then I am back in my house. I look at the clock and it reads 10:03.
| |
[WP] One second your in your house, the next you're standing in a living room surrounded by three demons. They drop their Ouija board and scream as they run to their bathroom and lock the door. "I told you we shouldn't have touched it!" | It was a chilly, Monday morning when I was teleported out of my kitchen. I ended up in a room with four hellish creatures. They looked at me and I looked at them. We both screamed at the same time. They ran into the nearest bathroom to discuss what they should do. I sat outside the door, listening to their plans.
“We should send her back,” said demon #1.
“We should vivisect her and see how humans work,” said demon #2.
“Nah,” said demon #1, “We aren’t Japanese nor German in WWII.”
“We should not have played with that board,” whispered demon #3, “Master will whip us all again until we are near death.”
I ran behind the sofa as they came out. I didn’t know what to do but be frightened. Demons were notorious for tricking humans and wearing them like meatsuits when they go topside. I found a dagger next to me. Next thing I knew, all the demons were dead and I was covered in blood.
The master walked in to see what the matter was. I stood there and locked eyes with him. The master growled at me. Claws bared, he lunged at me. I dodged and slashed him.
“Please send me back,” I said, “I didn’t want to be here. I just wanted to finish my grilled cheese sandwich.”
“If you can beat me at chess, then I will let you go,” said the master. He summoned a chess board from thin air. The game began.
Move by move, we played. Until I finally managed to get him into checkmate. He howled that I cheated even though it was a fair match and really hard to cheat at chess.
Quicker than lightning, I was returned to my home. I returned to my skillet and finished my sandwich. After which I nailed a horseshoe above my front door, so no demon or demonic power could enter and whisk me away again.
| It was 10 in the morning. I had just woken up. It was my first day off work in 2 weeks. I was sitting in my living room about to smoke some weed to get my day going and watching some TV. I was about to take my first hit when suddenly I was transported to a dark place surrounded by demons and candles. They all suddenly began running and one dropped what seemed to be a Ouija board and got inside a bathroom.
"I told you we shouldn't have touched it." I hear the demons say from the bathroom. I was still standing in what appears to be their living room. It seemed to be night outside. That was strange being that it was morning just a second ago. Then again demons just ran away from so that was probably even stranger.
"Um hey uh guys." I said Ackwardly
"Oh shit dude it's talking to us." I heard from inside. "What should we do?"
"I don't know just fucking say something." Another voice said.
"H... Hhhhh..hi there." they respond me.
"Hey so this might sound kinda strange to you guys, but um I have no idea where the fuck I am, so uh, maybe you can help me out." I said to them
"Well w.wwwww..wwwe might have kinda summoned you fro.....from hell" I herd one respond very nervously.
"What no I'm not the one that's supposed to be in hell you are." I responded. "Now tell me the truth did I fucking die or something and you are playing tricks on me."
"Oh shit dude I think we are getting him mad." I heard a voice whisper inside.
"Yeah he wants us in hell dude we fucked up so bad." I heard another one whisper.
I let out a big sigh. "OK just come out I won't do anything to you." I said.
"How can we trust a demon." They suddenly say.
"I'm not the... " I say before reconsidering." Just come out I promise I won't do anything. Here as a matter a fact do you kids smoke weed."
"Y...yyyyy...yeah." I hear one of them say.
Then I hear a loud hit.
"What the fuck man what was that for." I hear the same voice again.
"Why the fuck do you answer that." I hear one of them whisper.
I sigh again. "OK fine don't come out. I'll be out hear waiting with food and beverages chilling smoking this weed."
I begin to walk to the kitchen. It was a good thing I decided to put my stash in my pocket. Now I had plenty of weed yo try and figure out what the fuck was going on. They seemed like teenagers. At least that's how I would see teenagers acting. Well it not like I'm any different at 19.
I get to the kitchen and open the fridge door. Inside is some werid gooey shit in a plate and wrapped in some plastic wrap. Under it I see some green juice with what seems like shit pieces inside. I close it immediately.
"Well fuck it at least I have weed." I said to myself as I walked back to the living room.
I sit down on there couch and begin lighting my bowl. I then blow the smoke towards the bathroom.
"What is that?" I hear one of them whisper to the others.
"I don't know it kinda smells like weed but a lot stronger." Another one says.
"Guys I can hear you perfectly fine just come out here and smoke some weed with me." I scream at them. "Don't you think if I really wanted to hurt you I would have broken the door already."
They began opening the door.
" You sure about this what if he is lying." I hear the farthest one say.
"Yeah its fine, he is right if he wanted to he would have just gone in the door didn't even have a lock." The most in front says.
They eventually make there way towards me and sit down.
"So how old are you guys?" I ask handing the pipe to the closest one.
"We are all 15." the one that I handed the pipe to says. "My name is Matt."
"My N.. Name is Mike." The second closest to me says.
"My N... Name is Earl." the farthest one says.
"Well nice to meet you guys I'm Jose." I say.
We begin smoking and talking. They told me about times they had gotten high and I told them about times I have gotten high and by the end of it we had smoked a bowl.
"Damn you guys want me to load another one?" I ask.
"Dude do you see the candle changing colors too." Earl says.
"Yeah." Matt says.
"Yo are you guys alright?" I ask getting scared this might have been too much for them.
"I'm getting freaked out man at what time do your parents get back dude?" Mike says.
"Like at 12 what time is it? " Earl asks
"Shit man its 11:50." Matt says.
"Yo yo calm the fuck down." I tell them. "Alright we need to find a way to get me back."
"How do we do that?" Earl asks me. "We don't even know how you got here."
I begin scratching my head. How do demons get sent back in the movies.
"Did you guys chant something when you got me here?" I ask.
"Yeah." Matt answers me
"Well then chant that backwards with the Ouija board in the middle." I say to them
They all quickly surround me and begin chanting. Then all of a sudden the world goes black. Then I am back in my house. I look at the clock and it reads 10:03.
| |
[WP] One second your in your house, the next you're standing in a living room surrounded by three demons. They drop their Ouija board and scream as they run to their bathroom and lock the door. "I told you we shouldn't have touched it!" |
I fucking hate Ouija boards. I’ve watched enough scary movies and dabbled deep enough in my years to learn what to respect while using and what just not to fuck with. I will not touch those cursed pieces of shit and will leave a party if someone pulls it out 'for funsies'. There's nothing fun or good about a Ouija board, and now I know firsthand why nothing ever good comes from one.
Normally, I play video games on my computer after my Saturday shifts; smoking bowls, maybe video chat my mum, a laid back start to my official weekend. Today was not going to follow my lazy afternoon schedule, however. As I take a hit I start to feel a pressure build around my ears, slowly spreading along my body. For a second I'm concerned that I've just hit that point of no return and maybe I should retreat to the couch when I’m hit with a wave of nausea and excruciating pain. I’ll bet anything it was something like the bends; feeling a crushing weight from the entire ocean multiplied over every millimeter of your body, trillions of your atoms crying out in agony as natural limits are pushed and ignored; or something to that effect. Right after I have the thought that this is a seizure and I’m going to die, smoking pot, in my underwear, the pressure gives with a sickening *pop* and I'm no longer in my chair.
After the ringing subsides a tad and my vision stops swimming, I realize I'm sitting awkwardly on top of a coffee table pipe still in hand. I exhale gratefully, realizing I’m no longer being atomically torn apart. Silently, three, very ugly teenagers gawked around me. One female looking one directly in front of me screams, an unholy howl that makes my head feel like it’s caving in again. I slap my hands over my ears and screw my eyes shut, body keeling in, trying to block out the awful noise. "I told you we shouldn't have touched it!" I hear a second voice crow over the end of the unearthly wail. The fading sob retreats among the thumping of wild, hooves? Unless everyone was wearing stilettos, feet don't click like that. Nothing is making sense right now and I feel like I’m going to puke. I should have gone to bed early, I remember thinking.
Unshielding my tender lobes, I gingerly glance about. I was alone and seemed to be in the midst of a poorly constructed seance. Multicoloured candles in glass jars and various holders guttered and waved on various end tables. A mantel piece above a dead fire sported an impressive candelabra of thirteen black candles, and five more blinked on the ground surrounding me on the tips of, you guessed it, a pentagram. "Jesus FUCKING Christ." My matter of fact curse summoned a trio of muffled gasps from behind me. Turning, I spy a simple door with light telling through the cracks. I chuckle, stand, and knock a silver locket off the table. Some more scuffling from behind me and when I turn again I see a dark closed door.
The absurdity of what just happened begins to dawn on me at this point, and to put it bluntly, I lost my shit. I need to say, I have a rather cackley laugh. You know when you get a good belly laugh; like your own special brand of semi-embarressing, not for polite social circles laugh? The one that surfaces when you least want it to, but hot damn that joke was well timed. If not, you may have that friend with the donkey laugh, the snorter, the lumberjack, etc. Well, I'm the fucking evil witch. So imagine me now, standing in my panties and bra, holding a pipe, in the middle of a b-movie budget summoning circle, cackling my white girl ass off while three poor bastards shit themselves in a bathroom. Thinking this is either the most fucked up practical joke or the start of a bad porn, it then dawned on me, for better or worse, that I had the upper hand.
Quickly realizing that the ring wasn’t designed to keep me in (stupid mistake, those can get you killed), I decided to use that to my advantage and play dumb. Picking up the necklace I had knocked earlier, I turned my attention to the ‘altar’ which I had appeared upon. There was a bottle of wine (partially drunk) with accompanying glass, some heavy, heady, incense that reminded me of a good thai place, a few red jam biscuits on a blue china plate, a bloody hunting knife, and some assorted coloured stones. Add the necklace and I’d say that it was a cute attempt at offerings, but this junk isn’t what sucked me through a dimension, or whatever, happened. I scan the living room that looked straight out of a Vampire’s Secret catalogue for anything that could start making sense, fast.
A rising argument filtered into the shadowed room, three little voices pitched in fear behind the bathroom door. Barely making out words like ‘contract’, and ‘bound’, a general consensus of ‘not to be trusted’ chorused in innocent whispers. Stifling an outburst of cackles, I listen as some agreement is formed and silence is restored. Slowly, painfully, the knob turns, and the door whines, and eyes appear at it’s edge. I wave coyly and the door nearly slams shut once more. Again the door protests until a representative is pushed out onto their face. The girl that was in front of me when I was so rudely interrupted straightened herself hastily and stammered apologies in a few different languages. She must fancy herself a mage, I thought, taking in her handsewn robes and gaudy pendants. A ragged braid curled out of her hood as I locked eyes with the demon girl. Bright green, faintly glowing, slitted, and full of fear; clearly someone overstepped their abilities, even if she was more powerful than me in her birthright as a succubae. As she spoke an old tongue poorly, outlining her vague reasons for contact and request for a deal be brokered I noticed an odd glow from the door.
“Alright miss thing, that’s enough.” I began, the little demon started and backed up a step. I smiled gently and cooed, “All business and no manners can lead to poor relations, darling. Plus your latin sucks.” She paled, if that was physically possible for the ghostly thing, and ducked her head mumbling, “I’m so sorry Mortal One, excuse me, I,-” “Shh. It’s cool, the old ways are outdated and tedious and I’m sick of that shit. Save the pomp for your Masters. Very few things really matter anymore in the working world and that’s payment and sacrifice.” A moan quivered from the bathroom and the little mage visibly gulped. I’ve got their full attention now. “If you want anything from me, you have to pay for it. In equal trade.” “But my mom’s necklace and our blood!” She thrust out her arm, the confusion and anger roiled off of her in putrid waves. “Calm down, kid!” You can keep your mom’s necklace, and you’ll be healed in a day or two, you know that.” I huffed, feeling much like a frustrated teacher instead of a pissed off not-so-captive. Her shoulders slumped forward, stuffing her bandaged hand in her robes. “Tell your friends to come out of the bathroom, I’m not going to eat them, it’s not dinner yet.” She turned to the bathroom and shrugged. Two more horrific victims of puberty shyly shuffled out into the low lit room. “Tell me your names. I know the rules, just the first will do.” They seemed about to protest, but their leader spoke up first. “Amyra. I am Amyra.” Then, “Uruosted.” “Marliahl.” “Good.” I made a show of sitting down on the altar smoothing the tablecloth and inclining my head to the ground in front of me. The little butts found carpet and I continued. “Seeing as you summoned me, you know my name, my titles, et cetera ad naseum yadda yadda. What I need to know is what you want from me, so I can decide whether it’s worth my time and to decide if you can pay.” Squirming from the leader, then plaintive, too old eyes, turned up at me and Amyra softly whispered, “I want to be a mortal like you.”
I wasn’t expecting this of course. I had steeled myself for murder requests, ancient wisdom, even a fucking burger from McDonalds on the other side, but this was the last thing I thought I’d hear from a demon. My charade faltered slightly, and muttered a woah under my breath. Then Amyra began to babble. “I don’t want to be a succubae and take mens souls. I want to be a girl and go on dates and eat ice cream and not have to train in dark magic and be… this…” She held out her arms in front of her. Uruosted shifted uncomfortably and Marliahl seemed too scared to move, but Amyra gained some courage and pleaded with me. “Please, you must know a way. Or someone, something, that would. I can’t be a succubae, I can’t! I won’t! Please, I hate Lillith, and all of her handmaidens, I can’t go through that!” She was shaking now, and though my eyes kept creeping back to the curiously glowing bathroom, I couldn’t play this poor kid. Demon or not, she wasn’t lying about not doing this awful thing, whatever it was. She was marked and she wanted out of her fate. I could relate. So I made a stupid mistake.
“Alright, take a breath. I’ll fucking help you. I don’t know how right this second, but you remind me of someone I know. Going soft I guess.” She about vaulted into my lap but stopped herself short of the pentagram. “Oh fuck it, you didn’t draw it right at all, come here.” I held out my arms and clasped her in a hug. I’m pretty sure I had just broke a serious law between our worlds but call me a sucker for a sob story. This is definitely going to bite me in the ass.
(edits) | It was 10 in the morning. I had just woken up. It was my first day off work in 2 weeks. I was sitting in my living room about to smoke some weed to get my day going and watching some TV. I was about to take my first hit when suddenly I was transported to a dark place surrounded by demons and candles. They all suddenly began running and one dropped what seemed to be a Ouija board and got inside a bathroom.
"I told you we shouldn't have touched it." I hear the demons say from the bathroom. I was still standing in what appears to be their living room. It seemed to be night outside. That was strange being that it was morning just a second ago. Then again demons just ran away from so that was probably even stranger.
"Um hey uh guys." I said Ackwardly
"Oh shit dude it's talking to us." I heard from inside. "What should we do?"
"I don't know just fucking say something." Another voice said.
"H... Hhhhh..hi there." they respond me.
"Hey so this might sound kinda strange to you guys, but um I have no idea where the fuck I am, so uh, maybe you can help me out." I said to them
"Well w.wwwww..wwwe might have kinda summoned you fro.....from hell" I herd one respond very nervously.
"What no I'm not the one that's supposed to be in hell you are." I responded. "Now tell me the truth did I fucking die or something and you are playing tricks on me."
"Oh shit dude I think we are getting him mad." I heard a voice whisper inside.
"Yeah he wants us in hell dude we fucked up so bad." I heard another one whisper.
I let out a big sigh. "OK just come out I won't do anything to you." I said.
"How can we trust a demon." They suddenly say.
"I'm not the... " I say before reconsidering." Just come out I promise I won't do anything. Here as a matter a fact do you kids smoke weed."
"Y...yyyyy...yeah." I hear one of them say.
Then I hear a loud hit.
"What the fuck man what was that for." I hear the same voice again.
"Why the fuck do you answer that." I hear one of them whisper.
I sigh again. "OK fine don't come out. I'll be out hear waiting with food and beverages chilling smoking this weed."
I begin to walk to the kitchen. It was a good thing I decided to put my stash in my pocket. Now I had plenty of weed yo try and figure out what the fuck was going on. They seemed like teenagers. At least that's how I would see teenagers acting. Well it not like I'm any different at 19.
I get to the kitchen and open the fridge door. Inside is some werid gooey shit in a plate and wrapped in some plastic wrap. Under it I see some green juice with what seems like shit pieces inside. I close it immediately.
"Well fuck it at least I have weed." I said to myself as I walked back to the living room.
I sit down on there couch and begin lighting my bowl. I then blow the smoke towards the bathroom.
"What is that?" I hear one of them whisper to the others.
"I don't know it kinda smells like weed but a lot stronger." Another one says.
"Guys I can hear you perfectly fine just come out here and smoke some weed with me." I scream at them. "Don't you think if I really wanted to hurt you I would have broken the door already."
They began opening the door.
" You sure about this what if he is lying." I hear the farthest one say.
"Yeah its fine, he is right if he wanted to he would have just gone in the door didn't even have a lock." The most in front says.
They eventually make there way towards me and sit down.
"So how old are you guys?" I ask handing the pipe to the closest one.
"We are all 15." the one that I handed the pipe to says. "My name is Matt."
"My N.. Name is Mike." The second closest to me says.
"My N... Name is Earl." the farthest one says.
"Well nice to meet you guys I'm Jose." I say.
We begin smoking and talking. They told me about times they had gotten high and I told them about times I have gotten high and by the end of it we had smoked a bowl.
"Damn you guys want me to load another one?" I ask.
"Dude do you see the candle changing colors too." Earl says.
"Yeah." Matt says.
"Yo are you guys alright?" I ask getting scared this might have been too much for them.
"I'm getting freaked out man at what time do your parents get back dude?" Mike says.
"Like at 12 what time is it? " Earl asks
"Shit man its 11:50." Matt says.
"Yo yo calm the fuck down." I tell them. "Alright we need to find a way to get me back."
"How do we do that?" Earl asks me. "We don't even know how you got here."
I begin scratching my head. How do demons get sent back in the movies.
"Did you guys chant something when you got me here?" I ask.
"Yeah." Matt answers me
"Well then chant that backwards with the Ouija board in the middle." I say to them
They all quickly surround me and begin chanting. Then all of a sudden the world goes black. Then I am back in my house. I look at the clock and it reads 10:03.
| |
[WP] One second your in your house, the next you're standing in a living room surrounded by three demons. They drop their Ouija board and scream as they run to their bathroom and lock the door. "I told you we shouldn't have touched it!" | Where was I? Just a flurry of red winged creatures, a dropped Ouija board? Everything was dark and close, smelled musty, old. This was not my living room.
Process that thought later. The things - no creatures - that had dropped the Ouija board were like the devils in mythical folklore. Only I wasn't drunk or high. I didn't think I was dreaming either.
These little red devils just saw me appear and ran shrieking into another room. I heard the door of that room lock.
Thing to do now was to pinch myself.
Ow, that hurt.
As far as I knew I was conscious, not asleep. Only a few moments ago I had been lying on my leather sofa, flipping channels in my cheaply furnished apartment. I remember I had been drinking from a glass of milk. I was certainly sober. What else did I remember?
Oh yeah, I remember shouting out, "Hell!" aloud when American Apprentice clicked on the screen. It was just an involuntary exclamation caused by seeing Trump on screen, but suddenly now I was clearly not in my apartment.
I was here in this dank, cold, bare room, which narrated nothing but black shadows, death and Gothic despair.
Unlike my carpeted living-room, the floor here was just bare wooden boards. A dismal light was provided by a dozen or more guttering candles. Furnishings were as bare as the floor: misshapen wooden chairs, a knotty table.
I picked up the Ouija board. It was heavy, made of a hardwood, perhaps mahogany, and extremely well-crafted. The letters were neatly painted in white and clearly the board had been well-used over the years.
Unlike many, I was a full believer in the paranormal. I had never tested a Ouija board before, simply because I was too afraid of summoning up something truly dreadful. I believed in ghosts though, also spirits, demons and Hell.
Clearly what had happened here was that somehow I had been summoned. The perpetrators of my summoning, demons of some kind, had uncharacteristically fled at my appearance.
My heart was beating fast. I could barely step forward, I was trembling so much. Gothic shaped windows, uncurtained, revealed the blackest of night skies. Where the hell was I?
Somehow I managed to gird myself, trepidantly approaching the locked wooden door past which the three demons had fled.
I hesitated, before knocking assertively. I figured these demons, by their actions, were far more afraid of me than I was of them. Besides I had to get out of this place somehow, otherwise I was doomed forever in this hellhole.
After knocking three times, I waited.
No response.
I knocked once again. “Hello.”
I tried the handle. The door of course was locked. I knew that already but had hoped the gesture might force the demons to do something. “Please unlock this door.”
“Go away,” I heard from inside. The voice sounded weirdly childish, certainly frightened.
Bolstered a little by this, I said: “Please, I won’t hurt you. I understand this has all been a mistake. You were playing with a Oiuja Board and somehow you ended up summoning me. I realize that you didn’t intend anything, but please I need to find a way to get back.”
Another voice, reedy, definitely child-like, could be heard. “We’re not scared of you.”
“I know,” I said, “I won’t hurt you. Please open the door.”
After a few moments, I heard the turn of the key in the lock. I grasped the ornate cast-iron handle and pushed. The door creaked like the combined cries of a thousand tormented souls as it slowly opened.
I held my breath. The room revealed was clearly a bathroom. Of sorts. Inside was a primitive wooden commode and a metal bath. A few of the usual candles provided a faltering light of sorts.
Three winged demons, blood red, with wings, cowered before me looking afraid despite my entreaties. The tallest was maybe just three feet tall. These were just mischievous children who had terrified themselves by playing with the occult. They had unwittingly unleashed powers they had no understanding of.
I almost started to feel a little sympathy for them. Holding my palms towards them in a conciliatory gesture, I said, “Please, don’t be scared. I’m not here to hurt you.”
Almost as one, they said, “It’s not you we’re scared of.”
I was confused momentarily, but then noticed they weren’t actually staring at me. Their fiercely green eyes were directing a stare above and behind me.
I suffered a sudden deep pang of terror. It wasn’t my fear I could smell, it was the malodorous stench from something behind me.
Slowly I turned round.
And there was Dad.
At least eight feet tall, vast wings raised, pointed tail flicking menacingly, a huge red demon stared down at me murderously. His eyes were like sulphurous slits.
Stock-still with terror, I could only watch as Dad opened his huge jaws to reveal a giant alligator’s array of deadly yellow fangs. I saw a venomous flick of a forked tongue.
Then a huge rush of flame spewed forth and I blacked out instantly.
| It was 10 in the morning. I had just woken up. It was my first day off work in 2 weeks. I was sitting in my living room about to smoke some weed to get my day going and watching some TV. I was about to take my first hit when suddenly I was transported to a dark place surrounded by demons and candles. They all suddenly began running and one dropped what seemed to be a Ouija board and got inside a bathroom.
"I told you we shouldn't have touched it." I hear the demons say from the bathroom. I was still standing in what appears to be their living room. It seemed to be night outside. That was strange being that it was morning just a second ago. Then again demons just ran away from so that was probably even stranger.
"Um hey uh guys." I said Ackwardly
"Oh shit dude it's talking to us." I heard from inside. "What should we do?"
"I don't know just fucking say something." Another voice said.
"H... Hhhhh..hi there." they respond me.
"Hey so this might sound kinda strange to you guys, but um I have no idea where the fuck I am, so uh, maybe you can help me out." I said to them
"Well w.wwwww..wwwe might have kinda summoned you fro.....from hell" I herd one respond very nervously.
"What no I'm not the one that's supposed to be in hell you are." I responded. "Now tell me the truth did I fucking die or something and you are playing tricks on me."
"Oh shit dude I think we are getting him mad." I heard a voice whisper inside.
"Yeah he wants us in hell dude we fucked up so bad." I heard another one whisper.
I let out a big sigh. "OK just come out I won't do anything to you." I said.
"How can we trust a demon." They suddenly say.
"I'm not the... " I say before reconsidering." Just come out I promise I won't do anything. Here as a matter a fact do you kids smoke weed."
"Y...yyyyy...yeah." I hear one of them say.
Then I hear a loud hit.
"What the fuck man what was that for." I hear the same voice again.
"Why the fuck do you answer that." I hear one of them whisper.
I sigh again. "OK fine don't come out. I'll be out hear waiting with food and beverages chilling smoking this weed."
I begin to walk to the kitchen. It was a good thing I decided to put my stash in my pocket. Now I had plenty of weed yo try and figure out what the fuck was going on. They seemed like teenagers. At least that's how I would see teenagers acting. Well it not like I'm any different at 19.
I get to the kitchen and open the fridge door. Inside is some werid gooey shit in a plate and wrapped in some plastic wrap. Under it I see some green juice with what seems like shit pieces inside. I close it immediately.
"Well fuck it at least I have weed." I said to myself as I walked back to the living room.
I sit down on there couch and begin lighting my bowl. I then blow the smoke towards the bathroom.
"What is that?" I hear one of them whisper to the others.
"I don't know it kinda smells like weed but a lot stronger." Another one says.
"Guys I can hear you perfectly fine just come out here and smoke some weed with me." I scream at them. "Don't you think if I really wanted to hurt you I would have broken the door already."
They began opening the door.
" You sure about this what if he is lying." I hear the farthest one say.
"Yeah its fine, he is right if he wanted to he would have just gone in the door didn't even have a lock." The most in front says.
They eventually make there way towards me and sit down.
"So how old are you guys?" I ask handing the pipe to the closest one.
"We are all 15." the one that I handed the pipe to says. "My name is Matt."
"My N.. Name is Mike." The second closest to me says.
"My N... Name is Earl." the farthest one says.
"Well nice to meet you guys I'm Jose." I say.
We begin smoking and talking. They told me about times they had gotten high and I told them about times I have gotten high and by the end of it we had smoked a bowl.
"Damn you guys want me to load another one?" I ask.
"Dude do you see the candle changing colors too." Earl says.
"Yeah." Matt says.
"Yo are you guys alright?" I ask getting scared this might have been too much for them.
"I'm getting freaked out man at what time do your parents get back dude?" Mike says.
"Like at 12 what time is it? " Earl asks
"Shit man its 11:50." Matt says.
"Yo yo calm the fuck down." I tell them. "Alright we need to find a way to get me back."
"How do we do that?" Earl asks me. "We don't even know how you got here."
I begin scratching my head. How do demons get sent back in the movies.
"Did you guys chant something when you got me here?" I ask.
"Yeah." Matt answers me
"Well then chant that backwards with the Ouija board in the middle." I say to them
They all quickly surround me and begin chanting. Then all of a sudden the world goes black. Then I am back in my house. I look at the clock and it reads 10:03.
| |
[WP] One second your in your house, the next you're standing in a living room surrounded by three demons. They drop their Ouija board and scream as they run to their bathroom and lock the door. "I told you we shouldn't have touched it!" | What had these fools wrought upon themselves once again? I had a name once, but there was only one thing I was known as now. I could see ears on the walls, listening, waiting for me to make my move. The denizens of this hellish dimension whimpered awaiting their impending death.
"Eat lead!" I cried. I fired up my machine gun and begun the rampage of carnage once again. The smart ones fled in terror but a few fools tried to fight. It was useless. Their fate was inevitable. Doomguy was back. | It was 10 in the morning. I had just woken up. It was my first day off work in 2 weeks. I was sitting in my living room about to smoke some weed to get my day going and watching some TV. I was about to take my first hit when suddenly I was transported to a dark place surrounded by demons and candles. They all suddenly began running and one dropped what seemed to be a Ouija board and got inside a bathroom.
"I told you we shouldn't have touched it." I hear the demons say from the bathroom. I was still standing in what appears to be their living room. It seemed to be night outside. That was strange being that it was morning just a second ago. Then again demons just ran away from so that was probably even stranger.
"Um hey uh guys." I said Ackwardly
"Oh shit dude it's talking to us." I heard from inside. "What should we do?"
"I don't know just fucking say something." Another voice said.
"H... Hhhhh..hi there." they respond me.
"Hey so this might sound kinda strange to you guys, but um I have no idea where the fuck I am, so uh, maybe you can help me out." I said to them
"Well w.wwwww..wwwe might have kinda summoned you fro.....from hell" I herd one respond very nervously.
"What no I'm not the one that's supposed to be in hell you are." I responded. "Now tell me the truth did I fucking die or something and you are playing tricks on me."
"Oh shit dude I think we are getting him mad." I heard a voice whisper inside.
"Yeah he wants us in hell dude we fucked up so bad." I heard another one whisper.
I let out a big sigh. "OK just come out I won't do anything to you." I said.
"How can we trust a demon." They suddenly say.
"I'm not the... " I say before reconsidering." Just come out I promise I won't do anything. Here as a matter a fact do you kids smoke weed."
"Y...yyyyy...yeah." I hear one of them say.
Then I hear a loud hit.
"What the fuck man what was that for." I hear the same voice again.
"Why the fuck do you answer that." I hear one of them whisper.
I sigh again. "OK fine don't come out. I'll be out hear waiting with food and beverages chilling smoking this weed."
I begin to walk to the kitchen. It was a good thing I decided to put my stash in my pocket. Now I had plenty of weed yo try and figure out what the fuck was going on. They seemed like teenagers. At least that's how I would see teenagers acting. Well it not like I'm any different at 19.
I get to the kitchen and open the fridge door. Inside is some werid gooey shit in a plate and wrapped in some plastic wrap. Under it I see some green juice with what seems like shit pieces inside. I close it immediately.
"Well fuck it at least I have weed." I said to myself as I walked back to the living room.
I sit down on there couch and begin lighting my bowl. I then blow the smoke towards the bathroom.
"What is that?" I hear one of them whisper to the others.
"I don't know it kinda smells like weed but a lot stronger." Another one says.
"Guys I can hear you perfectly fine just come out here and smoke some weed with me." I scream at them. "Don't you think if I really wanted to hurt you I would have broken the door already."
They began opening the door.
" You sure about this what if he is lying." I hear the farthest one say.
"Yeah its fine, he is right if he wanted to he would have just gone in the door didn't even have a lock." The most in front says.
They eventually make there way towards me and sit down.
"So how old are you guys?" I ask handing the pipe to the closest one.
"We are all 15." the one that I handed the pipe to says. "My name is Matt."
"My N.. Name is Mike." The second closest to me says.
"My N... Name is Earl." the farthest one says.
"Well nice to meet you guys I'm Jose." I say.
We begin smoking and talking. They told me about times they had gotten high and I told them about times I have gotten high and by the end of it we had smoked a bowl.
"Damn you guys want me to load another one?" I ask.
"Dude do you see the candle changing colors too." Earl says.
"Yeah." Matt says.
"Yo are you guys alright?" I ask getting scared this might have been too much for them.
"I'm getting freaked out man at what time do your parents get back dude?" Mike says.
"Like at 12 what time is it? " Earl asks
"Shit man its 11:50." Matt says.
"Yo yo calm the fuck down." I tell them. "Alright we need to find a way to get me back."
"How do we do that?" Earl asks me. "We don't even know how you got here."
I begin scratching my head. How do demons get sent back in the movies.
"Did you guys chant something when you got me here?" I ask.
"Yeah." Matt answers me
"Well then chant that backwards with the Ouija board in the middle." I say to them
They all quickly surround me and begin chanting. Then all of a sudden the world goes black. Then I am back in my house. I look at the clock and it reads 10:03.
| |
[WP] One second your in your house, the next you're standing in a living room surrounded by three demons. They drop their Ouija board and scream as they run to their bathroom and lock the door. "I told you we shouldn't have touched it!" | Demons live in the shadows. You aught to be cautious, yes, but there’s no need to be afraid. Demons live in the shadows or should I say beneath them, for the shadows are what keeps our worlds apart. You can say that the shadows keep us safe. For this we are surely lucky for without this wall, without this barrier, one world would surely perish beneath the wrath of the other.
How do I know this? Let me share with you my secret; I’ve have been to the other side.
This story begins like many others. I was in my kitchen. My bagel was plain but my cream cheese was thick and the lox was fresh. Life was good; my breakfast was testament to that. I raised my bagel in the air and gave my thanks saying, “God or Devil, he who breaths life into the dead and turns the cosmos on a needle and makes them spin, he who made my bagel he who also made my lox. I thank you for my bounty and for everything I’ve got.”.
My dog began to smile. It was a site that filled my soul with fear. He smiled like a human; it was as if he was a man. His eyes, they filled with fire. In those flames men burned alive. I could even hear them scream. I tried to stop him. I really did. But before I could he had begin to speak. From his eyes dripped tears, blood. He said, “amen let it be” and like that, in a flash, I was gone.
I was scared. Afraid. My adventure had just begun.
(to be continued if people like it) | It was 10 in the morning. I had just woken up. It was my first day off work in 2 weeks. I was sitting in my living room about to smoke some weed to get my day going and watching some TV. I was about to take my first hit when suddenly I was transported to a dark place surrounded by demons and candles. They all suddenly began running and one dropped what seemed to be a Ouija board and got inside a bathroom.
"I told you we shouldn't have touched it." I hear the demons say from the bathroom. I was still standing in what appears to be their living room. It seemed to be night outside. That was strange being that it was morning just a second ago. Then again demons just ran away from so that was probably even stranger.
"Um hey uh guys." I said Ackwardly
"Oh shit dude it's talking to us." I heard from inside. "What should we do?"
"I don't know just fucking say something." Another voice said.
"H... Hhhhh..hi there." they respond me.
"Hey so this might sound kinda strange to you guys, but um I have no idea where the fuck I am, so uh, maybe you can help me out." I said to them
"Well w.wwwww..wwwe might have kinda summoned you fro.....from hell" I herd one respond very nervously.
"What no I'm not the one that's supposed to be in hell you are." I responded. "Now tell me the truth did I fucking die or something and you are playing tricks on me."
"Oh shit dude I think we are getting him mad." I heard a voice whisper inside.
"Yeah he wants us in hell dude we fucked up so bad." I heard another one whisper.
I let out a big sigh. "OK just come out I won't do anything to you." I said.
"How can we trust a demon." They suddenly say.
"I'm not the... " I say before reconsidering." Just come out I promise I won't do anything. Here as a matter a fact do you kids smoke weed."
"Y...yyyyy...yeah." I hear one of them say.
Then I hear a loud hit.
"What the fuck man what was that for." I hear the same voice again.
"Why the fuck do you answer that." I hear one of them whisper.
I sigh again. "OK fine don't come out. I'll be out hear waiting with food and beverages chilling smoking this weed."
I begin to walk to the kitchen. It was a good thing I decided to put my stash in my pocket. Now I had plenty of weed yo try and figure out what the fuck was going on. They seemed like teenagers. At least that's how I would see teenagers acting. Well it not like I'm any different at 19.
I get to the kitchen and open the fridge door. Inside is some werid gooey shit in a plate and wrapped in some plastic wrap. Under it I see some green juice with what seems like shit pieces inside. I close it immediately.
"Well fuck it at least I have weed." I said to myself as I walked back to the living room.
I sit down on there couch and begin lighting my bowl. I then blow the smoke towards the bathroom.
"What is that?" I hear one of them whisper to the others.
"I don't know it kinda smells like weed but a lot stronger." Another one says.
"Guys I can hear you perfectly fine just come out here and smoke some weed with me." I scream at them. "Don't you think if I really wanted to hurt you I would have broken the door already."
They began opening the door.
" You sure about this what if he is lying." I hear the farthest one say.
"Yeah its fine, he is right if he wanted to he would have just gone in the door didn't even have a lock." The most in front says.
They eventually make there way towards me and sit down.
"So how old are you guys?" I ask handing the pipe to the closest one.
"We are all 15." the one that I handed the pipe to says. "My name is Matt."
"My N.. Name is Mike." The second closest to me says.
"My N... Name is Earl." the farthest one says.
"Well nice to meet you guys I'm Jose." I say.
We begin smoking and talking. They told me about times they had gotten high and I told them about times I have gotten high and by the end of it we had smoked a bowl.
"Damn you guys want me to load another one?" I ask.
"Dude do you see the candle changing colors too." Earl says.
"Yeah." Matt says.
"Yo are you guys alright?" I ask getting scared this might have been too much for them.
"I'm getting freaked out man at what time do your parents get back dude?" Mike says.
"Like at 12 what time is it? " Earl asks
"Shit man its 11:50." Matt says.
"Yo yo calm the fuck down." I tell them. "Alright we need to find a way to get me back."
"How do we do that?" Earl asks me. "We don't even know how you got here."
I begin scratching my head. How do demons get sent back in the movies.
"Did you guys chant something when you got me here?" I ask.
"Yeah." Matt answers me
"Well then chant that backwards with the Ouija board in the middle." I say to them
They all quickly surround me and begin chanting. Then all of a sudden the world goes black. Then I am back in my house. I look at the clock and it reads 10:03.
| |
[WP] One second your in your house, the next you're standing in a living room surrounded by three demons. They drop their Ouija board and scream as they run to their bathroom and lock the door. "I told you we shouldn't have touched it!" | They had waited all week for the storm to hit and now that it was here it was time. Carol and Jeff on the bottom two points of the pentagram. Thomas sat at the top with the ouiji board in front of him. "Hey guys? Aren't we supposed to hold hands or something for this part?"
Jeff and Carol looked at each other for a long moment and then turned to look at Thomas. Jeff shrugged. "Maybe. But it seems so Hollywood." Carol said light before adding, "Plus, all of us sitting on the pentagram points looks way cooler."
Thomas shifted nervously, "But why do I have to have it?"
This time Carol shrugged and Jeff answered.
"Dude? Seriously? Just get this over with and ask it a question."
Thomas huffed and placed his hand on the planchette. Fine, he decided, guess I'm going first. Inwardly grinning, he started moving the planchette from letter to letter. C-a-n-I-l-e-a-v-e-? Out of the corner of his eye, he saw lightening fill the sky. Thinking it would be funny Thomas surged to his feet and bellowed in his deepest voice, "This is what I ask of you!" As the power cut out, the 'you' echoed into the darkness. A moment of silence passed.
A candle flickered to light. Glowing red eyes met bewildered blue. Screaming and howling simultaneously caused the room to fall into darkness once more. Thomas screwed his eyes shut and braced himself for the claws he did not see but knew must exist to tear into him. When they didn't immediately, he opened one eye to the darkness. The room was a shocked stillness. Mentally shaking himself, he took a deep breath and asked, "Where am I and why am I here?". A whimper sounded to his left but was immediately muffled. Silence reined for several more seconds until Thomas put forth, "Well?"
"We are sorry! We didn't know!"
Thomas' eyes were adjusting and he turned toward the mass of darkness that spoke. "I didn't ask for an apology, I asked for an explanation."
"Guys. He can see me. He turned towards me. What do I do?" She was panicking.
"Stop shaking, if it can see you then it can see your weakness."
"It can't hurt you- we drew that barrier right? It shouldn't be able to cross"
Thomas allowed the back and forth to go on for sometime before he decided to interject, "Would you mind now answering my questions?" He took a step forward to the edge of the supposed barrier. Partly to frighten the speaker but also partly to see if the barrier was real. Before he could take another step, a voice to his right spoke quickly, "We summoned you, we didn't know it would work. And you are in the 5th level of hell." Thomas spun on his heel and strode toward the voice and crouched down as close to the barrier and the face of the new voice as possible. "Thank you. Now. Send. Me. Home." The whimpering started up again but Thomas felt no guilt reasoning he was just as scared as they were if not more since he was apparently caged into one space.
A scramble activity ensued. A table was righted. Hushed voices whispered so softly, Thomas couldn't make out the words. A board clanked onto the table. Thomas smiled, pleased something was being done. A scraping noise was heard and then he was spinning into the darkness. | It was 10 in the morning. I had just woken up. It was my first day off work in 2 weeks. I was sitting in my living room about to smoke some weed to get my day going and watching some TV. I was about to take my first hit when suddenly I was transported to a dark place surrounded by demons and candles. They all suddenly began running and one dropped what seemed to be a Ouija board and got inside a bathroom.
"I told you we shouldn't have touched it." I hear the demons say from the bathroom. I was still standing in what appears to be their living room. It seemed to be night outside. That was strange being that it was morning just a second ago. Then again demons just ran away from so that was probably even stranger.
"Um hey uh guys." I said Ackwardly
"Oh shit dude it's talking to us." I heard from inside. "What should we do?"
"I don't know just fucking say something." Another voice said.
"H... Hhhhh..hi there." they respond me.
"Hey so this might sound kinda strange to you guys, but um I have no idea where the fuck I am, so uh, maybe you can help me out." I said to them
"Well w.wwwww..wwwe might have kinda summoned you fro.....from hell" I herd one respond very nervously.
"What no I'm not the one that's supposed to be in hell you are." I responded. "Now tell me the truth did I fucking die or something and you are playing tricks on me."
"Oh shit dude I think we are getting him mad." I heard a voice whisper inside.
"Yeah he wants us in hell dude we fucked up so bad." I heard another one whisper.
I let out a big sigh. "OK just come out I won't do anything to you." I said.
"How can we trust a demon." They suddenly say.
"I'm not the... " I say before reconsidering." Just come out I promise I won't do anything. Here as a matter a fact do you kids smoke weed."
"Y...yyyyy...yeah." I hear one of them say.
Then I hear a loud hit.
"What the fuck man what was that for." I hear the same voice again.
"Why the fuck do you answer that." I hear one of them whisper.
I sigh again. "OK fine don't come out. I'll be out hear waiting with food and beverages chilling smoking this weed."
I begin to walk to the kitchen. It was a good thing I decided to put my stash in my pocket. Now I had plenty of weed yo try and figure out what the fuck was going on. They seemed like teenagers. At least that's how I would see teenagers acting. Well it not like I'm any different at 19.
I get to the kitchen and open the fridge door. Inside is some werid gooey shit in a plate and wrapped in some plastic wrap. Under it I see some green juice with what seems like shit pieces inside. I close it immediately.
"Well fuck it at least I have weed." I said to myself as I walked back to the living room.
I sit down on there couch and begin lighting my bowl. I then blow the smoke towards the bathroom.
"What is that?" I hear one of them whisper to the others.
"I don't know it kinda smells like weed but a lot stronger." Another one says.
"Guys I can hear you perfectly fine just come out here and smoke some weed with me." I scream at them. "Don't you think if I really wanted to hurt you I would have broken the door already."
They began opening the door.
" You sure about this what if he is lying." I hear the farthest one say.
"Yeah its fine, he is right if he wanted to he would have just gone in the door didn't even have a lock." The most in front says.
They eventually make there way towards me and sit down.
"So how old are you guys?" I ask handing the pipe to the closest one.
"We are all 15." the one that I handed the pipe to says. "My name is Matt."
"My N.. Name is Mike." The second closest to me says.
"My N... Name is Earl." the farthest one says.
"Well nice to meet you guys I'm Jose." I say.
We begin smoking and talking. They told me about times they had gotten high and I told them about times I have gotten high and by the end of it we had smoked a bowl.
"Damn you guys want me to load another one?" I ask.
"Dude do you see the candle changing colors too." Earl says.
"Yeah." Matt says.
"Yo are you guys alright?" I ask getting scared this might have been too much for them.
"I'm getting freaked out man at what time do your parents get back dude?" Mike says.
"Like at 12 what time is it? " Earl asks
"Shit man its 11:50." Matt says.
"Yo yo calm the fuck down." I tell them. "Alright we need to find a way to get me back."
"How do we do that?" Earl asks me. "We don't even know how you got here."
I begin scratching my head. How do demons get sent back in the movies.
"Did you guys chant something when you got me here?" I ask.
"Yeah." Matt answers me
"Well then chant that backwards with the Ouija board in the middle." I say to them
They all quickly surround me and begin chanting. Then all of a sudden the world goes black. Then I am back in my house. I look at the clock and it reads 10:03.
| |
[WP] One second your in your house, the next you're standing in a living room surrounded by three demons. They drop their Ouija board and scream as they run to their bathroom and lock the door. "I told you we shouldn't have touched it!" | I had just filled up my cereal bowl and was about to enjoy a late breakfast when that familiar feeling came on me again. Dang-it, I already regretted that deal I had made with that thieving “Ouija the Fantabulous”.
At the time it had sounded like easy money – As a member of the Dimension Monitoring Security Division, “D-MonS” for short – traveling the inter-dimensional gateways was old hat. It was during an epic drinking bout last year that my “Friend” and drinking companion had come up with the idea of us popping into each others home dimensions and putting a scare on unsuspecting mundanes. We would do “Magic Shows” where we would pretend to summon a “Daemon”, and after a bit of theatrical fahlderol the “Summoned Daemon” would step back through the gateway and go back to their regular life while the Magician raked in the samollions from the unsuspecting marks. “Easy Money” he said. “What could go wrong?” he said. My big toe, I say.
With his red skin, horns and wings, he could easily pass as some sort Daemonic presence on Earth, especially if he dropped a flash bomb just before he appeared. Likewise I, a rather plain non-descript human on my own home dimension, would appear exotic and dangerous when I stepped out of the gateway on his world in a cloud of smoke with a dramatic gesture.
The only problem was while I had only used the Summoner Device on him a couple times (that one séance with my Aunt Gertruda was epic!) that jack-wipe had created his “Ouija Boards” which triggered the gateway whenever some thrill-seeking teenager played around with it , so I was constantly being summoned and having to do my “Scary Daemon” act in increasingly uncomfortable situations. Plus that thief had copyrighted the technology so he was pulling in royalties off of every copy of the damn board that he sold, while I was stuck with bupkiss – not a red cent!!!
When the smoke cleared, I had a brief glimpse of a trio of obviously under-aged creatures sitting around the damned board, who gave me one wide-eyed look before screaming in terror and running off and locking themselves into what I presume was a lavatory of some sort. OK, I admit the bath-robe was getting a bit shabby, and I was still suffering from a severe case of Bed Hair, but still it seemed like a little bit of an over-reaction. Pulling a card from my robe pocket I read off the required copyrighted script: “Behold the power of the Ouija! Who dares to disturb my slumber of 1000 years! You have dabbled in powers that are beyond your ken and understanding! Terrifying – blah-blah-blah, uh, yeah OOoooh Scary! Don’t disturb me again. Copyright Oujia Magic Supplies, the best Magic comes from Ouija!” And I stepped back into the cloud of mist and triggered the return cycle. Bet my damn cereal was going to be soggy.
(With apologies to Robert Lyn Aspirin)
| It was 10 in the morning. I had just woken up. It was my first day off work in 2 weeks. I was sitting in my living room about to smoke some weed to get my day going and watching some TV. I was about to take my first hit when suddenly I was transported to a dark place surrounded by demons and candles. They all suddenly began running and one dropped what seemed to be a Ouija board and got inside a bathroom.
"I told you we shouldn't have touched it." I hear the demons say from the bathroom. I was still standing in what appears to be their living room. It seemed to be night outside. That was strange being that it was morning just a second ago. Then again demons just ran away from so that was probably even stranger.
"Um hey uh guys." I said Ackwardly
"Oh shit dude it's talking to us." I heard from inside. "What should we do?"
"I don't know just fucking say something." Another voice said.
"H... Hhhhh..hi there." they respond me.
"Hey so this might sound kinda strange to you guys, but um I have no idea where the fuck I am, so uh, maybe you can help me out." I said to them
"Well w.wwwww..wwwe might have kinda summoned you fro.....from hell" I herd one respond very nervously.
"What no I'm not the one that's supposed to be in hell you are." I responded. "Now tell me the truth did I fucking die or something and you are playing tricks on me."
"Oh shit dude I think we are getting him mad." I heard a voice whisper inside.
"Yeah he wants us in hell dude we fucked up so bad." I heard another one whisper.
I let out a big sigh. "OK just come out I won't do anything to you." I said.
"How can we trust a demon." They suddenly say.
"I'm not the... " I say before reconsidering." Just come out I promise I won't do anything. Here as a matter a fact do you kids smoke weed."
"Y...yyyyy...yeah." I hear one of them say.
Then I hear a loud hit.
"What the fuck man what was that for." I hear the same voice again.
"Why the fuck do you answer that." I hear one of them whisper.
I sigh again. "OK fine don't come out. I'll be out hear waiting with food and beverages chilling smoking this weed."
I begin to walk to the kitchen. It was a good thing I decided to put my stash in my pocket. Now I had plenty of weed yo try and figure out what the fuck was going on. They seemed like teenagers. At least that's how I would see teenagers acting. Well it not like I'm any different at 19.
I get to the kitchen and open the fridge door. Inside is some werid gooey shit in a plate and wrapped in some plastic wrap. Under it I see some green juice with what seems like shit pieces inside. I close it immediately.
"Well fuck it at least I have weed." I said to myself as I walked back to the living room.
I sit down on there couch and begin lighting my bowl. I then blow the smoke towards the bathroom.
"What is that?" I hear one of them whisper to the others.
"I don't know it kinda smells like weed but a lot stronger." Another one says.
"Guys I can hear you perfectly fine just come out here and smoke some weed with me." I scream at them. "Don't you think if I really wanted to hurt you I would have broken the door already."
They began opening the door.
" You sure about this what if he is lying." I hear the farthest one say.
"Yeah its fine, he is right if he wanted to he would have just gone in the door didn't even have a lock." The most in front says.
They eventually make there way towards me and sit down.
"So how old are you guys?" I ask handing the pipe to the closest one.
"We are all 15." the one that I handed the pipe to says. "My name is Matt."
"My N.. Name is Mike." The second closest to me says.
"My N... Name is Earl." the farthest one says.
"Well nice to meet you guys I'm Jose." I say.
We begin smoking and talking. They told me about times they had gotten high and I told them about times I have gotten high and by the end of it we had smoked a bowl.
"Damn you guys want me to load another one?" I ask.
"Dude do you see the candle changing colors too." Earl says.
"Yeah." Matt says.
"Yo are you guys alright?" I ask getting scared this might have been too much for them.
"I'm getting freaked out man at what time do your parents get back dude?" Mike says.
"Like at 12 what time is it? " Earl asks
"Shit man its 11:50." Matt says.
"Yo yo calm the fuck down." I tell them. "Alright we need to find a way to get me back."
"How do we do that?" Earl asks me. "We don't even know how you got here."
I begin scratching my head. How do demons get sent back in the movies.
"Did you guys chant something when you got me here?" I ask.
"Yeah." Matt answers me
"Well then chant that backwards with the Ouija board in the middle." I say to them
They all quickly surround me and begin chanting. Then all of a sudden the world goes black. Then I am back in my house. I look at the clock and it reads 10:03.
| |
[WP] One second your in your house, the next you're standing in a living room surrounded by three demons. They drop their Ouija board and scream as they run to their bathroom and lock the door. "I told you we shouldn't have touched it!" | "I told you, Urglesh!" yelled the Scourge of Ten Worlds, "I told you they were real!" His back was pinned against a baroque, iron door.
"Yeah well, I thought you were joking, humans are a myth! Everyone knows that, even little demonettes and imps. Shut up and grab that chair and block the door." The Scourge scrambled for a bone chair and wedged it between the eternal handle and the soulstone floor.
"Oh Lucifer, oh Lucifer help us!" squeaked the nameless horror from the corner of the room. He rocked back and forwards with his hands on his horns.
".....Urglesh, has it gone?"
".....I don't know. It's gone quiet."
"It's up to something! I heard they can teleport!"
*tap tap tap*
"Nyaaaaagh, it's at the door! Go away foul creature, leave us in suffering!"
"Human, foul beast, what do you want with us? Please, don't hurt us!"
"....okay it's just that I'd like to go home?"
"THEN GO!"
"Well... I'm not sure how?"
"....is this a trap?"
"No. I'd rather like to go, I don't know where I am and I don't think I like it. Why is everything screaming?"
"I.... well, they are the lost souls of the damned. I only got them last month," pouted the Scourge, "They're not cheap, you know."
"I see. They're.... yes. Quite. So, do you think I could go home?"
"Urglesh, can we send..... it.... home?"
"I don't know, maybe?"
"....oh good, thank you. I'll just wait out here, shall I?"
"Yes! Don't touch anything."
"Right, no, of course. I'll just have a sit down and let you chaps sort it out. I don't suppose you've got any tea? No, silly question." They heard shuffling and footsteps. None of them moved, lest it return.
Urglesh put one of his twelve eyes to the keyhole in the infernal door, checking if the coast was clear.
"Don't look!" shouted the scourge, "I heard they can turn you to stone with a glance!"
"I tell you, nameless horror, those things creep me out. Did you see its skin? It wasn't moving or bleeding, and it didn't even have horns..."
"And what in the nine heavens is 'tea'?"
| It was 10 in the morning. I had just woken up. It was my first day off work in 2 weeks. I was sitting in my living room about to smoke some weed to get my day going and watching some TV. I was about to take my first hit when suddenly I was transported to a dark place surrounded by demons and candles. They all suddenly began running and one dropped what seemed to be a Ouija board and got inside a bathroom.
"I told you we shouldn't have touched it." I hear the demons say from the bathroom. I was still standing in what appears to be their living room. It seemed to be night outside. That was strange being that it was morning just a second ago. Then again demons just ran away from so that was probably even stranger.
"Um hey uh guys." I said Ackwardly
"Oh shit dude it's talking to us." I heard from inside. "What should we do?"
"I don't know just fucking say something." Another voice said.
"H... Hhhhh..hi there." they respond me.
"Hey so this might sound kinda strange to you guys, but um I have no idea where the fuck I am, so uh, maybe you can help me out." I said to them
"Well w.wwwww..wwwe might have kinda summoned you fro.....from hell" I herd one respond very nervously.
"What no I'm not the one that's supposed to be in hell you are." I responded. "Now tell me the truth did I fucking die or something and you are playing tricks on me."
"Oh shit dude I think we are getting him mad." I heard a voice whisper inside.
"Yeah he wants us in hell dude we fucked up so bad." I heard another one whisper.
I let out a big sigh. "OK just come out I won't do anything to you." I said.
"How can we trust a demon." They suddenly say.
"I'm not the... " I say before reconsidering." Just come out I promise I won't do anything. Here as a matter a fact do you kids smoke weed."
"Y...yyyyy...yeah." I hear one of them say.
Then I hear a loud hit.
"What the fuck man what was that for." I hear the same voice again.
"Why the fuck do you answer that." I hear one of them whisper.
I sigh again. "OK fine don't come out. I'll be out hear waiting with food and beverages chilling smoking this weed."
I begin to walk to the kitchen. It was a good thing I decided to put my stash in my pocket. Now I had plenty of weed yo try and figure out what the fuck was going on. They seemed like teenagers. At least that's how I would see teenagers acting. Well it not like I'm any different at 19.
I get to the kitchen and open the fridge door. Inside is some werid gooey shit in a plate and wrapped in some plastic wrap. Under it I see some green juice with what seems like shit pieces inside. I close it immediately.
"Well fuck it at least I have weed." I said to myself as I walked back to the living room.
I sit down on there couch and begin lighting my bowl. I then blow the smoke towards the bathroom.
"What is that?" I hear one of them whisper to the others.
"I don't know it kinda smells like weed but a lot stronger." Another one says.
"Guys I can hear you perfectly fine just come out here and smoke some weed with me." I scream at them. "Don't you think if I really wanted to hurt you I would have broken the door already."
They began opening the door.
" You sure about this what if he is lying." I hear the farthest one say.
"Yeah its fine, he is right if he wanted to he would have just gone in the door didn't even have a lock." The most in front says.
They eventually make there way towards me and sit down.
"So how old are you guys?" I ask handing the pipe to the closest one.
"We are all 15." the one that I handed the pipe to says. "My name is Matt."
"My N.. Name is Mike." The second closest to me says.
"My N... Name is Earl." the farthest one says.
"Well nice to meet you guys I'm Jose." I say.
We begin smoking and talking. They told me about times they had gotten high and I told them about times I have gotten high and by the end of it we had smoked a bowl.
"Damn you guys want me to load another one?" I ask.
"Dude do you see the candle changing colors too." Earl says.
"Yeah." Matt says.
"Yo are you guys alright?" I ask getting scared this might have been too much for them.
"I'm getting freaked out man at what time do your parents get back dude?" Mike says.
"Like at 12 what time is it? " Earl asks
"Shit man its 11:50." Matt says.
"Yo yo calm the fuck down." I tell them. "Alright we need to find a way to get me back."
"How do we do that?" Earl asks me. "We don't even know how you got here."
I begin scratching my head. How do demons get sent back in the movies.
"Did you guys chant something when you got me here?" I ask.
"Yeah." Matt answers me
"Well then chant that backwards with the Ouija board in the middle." I say to them
They all quickly surround me and begin chanting. Then all of a sudden the world goes black. Then I am back in my house. I look at the clock and it reads 10:03.
| |
[WP] One second your in your house, the next you're standing in a living room surrounded by three demons. They drop their Ouija board and scream as they run to their bathroom and lock the door. "I told you we shouldn't have touched it!" |
I fucking hate Ouija boards. I’ve watched enough scary movies and dabbled deep enough in my years to learn what to respect while using and what just not to fuck with. I will not touch those cursed pieces of shit and will leave a party if someone pulls it out 'for funsies'. There's nothing fun or good about a Ouija board, and now I know firsthand why nothing ever good comes from one.
Normally, I play video games on my computer after my Saturday shifts; smoking bowls, maybe video chat my mum, a laid back start to my official weekend. Today was not going to follow my lazy afternoon schedule, however. As I take a hit I start to feel a pressure build around my ears, slowly spreading along my body. For a second I'm concerned that I've just hit that point of no return and maybe I should retreat to the couch when I’m hit with a wave of nausea and excruciating pain. I’ll bet anything it was something like the bends; feeling a crushing weight from the entire ocean multiplied over every millimeter of your body, trillions of your atoms crying out in agony as natural limits are pushed and ignored; or something to that effect. Right after I have the thought that this is a seizure and I’m going to die, smoking pot, in my underwear, the pressure gives with a sickening *pop* and I'm no longer in my chair.
After the ringing subsides a tad and my vision stops swimming, I realize I'm sitting awkwardly on top of a coffee table pipe still in hand. I exhale gratefully, realizing I’m no longer being atomically torn apart. Silently, three, very ugly teenagers gawked around me. One female looking one directly in front of me screams, an unholy howl that makes my head feel like it’s caving in again. I slap my hands over my ears and screw my eyes shut, body keeling in, trying to block out the awful noise. "I told you we shouldn't have touched it!" I hear a second voice crow over the end of the unearthly wail. The fading sob retreats among the thumping of wild, hooves? Unless everyone was wearing stilettos, feet don't click like that. Nothing is making sense right now and I feel like I’m going to puke. I should have gone to bed early, I remember thinking.
Unshielding my tender lobes, I gingerly glance about. I was alone and seemed to be in the midst of a poorly constructed seance. Multicoloured candles in glass jars and various holders guttered and waved on various end tables. A mantel piece above a dead fire sported an impressive candelabra of thirteen black candles, and five more blinked on the ground surrounding me on the tips of, you guessed it, a pentagram. "Jesus FUCKING Christ." My matter of fact curse summoned a trio of muffled gasps from behind me. Turning, I spy a simple door with light telling through the cracks. I chuckle, stand, and knock a silver locket off the table. Some more scuffling from behind me and when I turn again I see a dark closed door.
The absurdity of what just happened begins to dawn on me at this point, and to put it bluntly, I lost my shit. I need to say, I have a rather cackley laugh. You know when you get a good belly laugh; like your own special brand of semi-embarressing, not for polite social circles laugh? The one that surfaces when you least want it to, but hot damn that joke was well timed. If not, you may have that friend with the donkey laugh, the snorter, the lumberjack, etc. Well, I'm the fucking evil witch. So imagine me now, standing in my panties and bra, holding a pipe, in the middle of a b-movie budget summoning circle, cackling my white girl ass off while three poor bastards shit themselves in a bathroom. Thinking this is either the most fucked up practical joke or the start of a bad porn, it then dawned on me, for better or worse, that I had the upper hand.
Quickly realizing that the ring wasn’t designed to keep me in (stupid mistake, those can get you killed), I decided to use that to my advantage and play dumb. Picking up the necklace I had knocked earlier, I turned my attention to the ‘altar’ which I had appeared upon. There was a bottle of wine (partially drunk) with accompanying glass, some heavy, heady, incense that reminded me of a good thai place, a few red jam biscuits on a blue china plate, a bloody hunting knife, and some assorted coloured stones. Add the necklace and I’d say that it was a cute attempt at offerings, but this junk isn’t what sucked me through a dimension, or whatever, happened. I scan the living room that looked straight out of a Vampire’s Secret catalogue for anything that could start making sense, fast.
A rising argument filtered into the shadowed room, three little voices pitched in fear behind the bathroom door. Barely making out words like ‘contract’, and ‘bound’, a general consensus of ‘not to be trusted’ chorused in innocent whispers. Stifling an outburst of cackles, I listen as some agreement is formed and silence is restored. Slowly, painfully, the knob turns, and the door whines, and eyes appear at it’s edge. I wave coyly and the door nearly slams shut once more. Again the door protests until a representative is pushed out onto their face. The girl that was in front of me when I was so rudely interrupted straightened herself hastily and stammered apologies in a few different languages. She must fancy herself a mage, I thought, taking in her handsewn robes and gaudy pendants. A ragged braid curled out of her hood as I locked eyes with the demon girl. Bright green, faintly glowing, slitted, and full of fear; clearly someone overstepped their abilities, even if she was more powerful than me in her birthright as a succubae. As she spoke an old tongue poorly, outlining her vague reasons for contact and request for a deal be brokered I noticed an odd glow from the door.
“Alright miss thing, that’s enough.” I began, the little demon started and backed up a step. I smiled gently and cooed, “All business and no manners can lead to poor relations, darling. Plus your latin sucks.” She paled, if that was physically possible for the ghostly thing, and ducked her head mumbling, “I’m so sorry Mortal One, excuse me, I,-” “Shh. It’s cool, the old ways are outdated and tedious and I’m sick of that shit. Save the pomp for your Masters. Very few things really matter anymore in the working world and that’s payment and sacrifice.” A moan quivered from the bathroom and the little mage visibly gulped. I’ve got their full attention now. “If you want anything from me, you have to pay for it. In equal trade.” “But my mom’s necklace and our blood!” She thrust out her arm, the confusion and anger roiled off of her in putrid waves. “Calm down, kid!” You can keep your mom’s necklace, and you’ll be healed in a day or two, you know that.” I huffed, feeling much like a frustrated teacher instead of a pissed off not-so-captive. Her shoulders slumped forward, stuffing her bandaged hand in her robes. “Tell your friends to come out of the bathroom, I’m not going to eat them, it’s not dinner yet.” She turned to the bathroom and shrugged. Two more horrific victims of puberty shyly shuffled out into the low lit room. “Tell me your names. I know the rules, just the first will do.” They seemed about to protest, but their leader spoke up first. “Amyra. I am Amyra.” Then, “Uruosted.” “Marliahl.” “Good.” I made a show of sitting down on the altar smoothing the tablecloth and inclining my head to the ground in front of me. The little butts found carpet and I continued. “Seeing as you summoned me, you know my name, my titles, et cetera ad naseum yadda yadda. What I need to know is what you want from me, so I can decide whether it’s worth my time and to decide if you can pay.” Squirming from the leader, then plaintive, too old eyes, turned up at me and Amyra softly whispered, “I want to be a mortal like you.”
I wasn’t expecting this of course. I had steeled myself for murder requests, ancient wisdom, even a fucking burger from McDonalds on the other side, but this was the last thing I thought I’d hear from a demon. My charade faltered slightly, and muttered a woah under my breath. Then Amyra began to babble. “I don’t want to be a succubae and take mens souls. I want to be a girl and go on dates and eat ice cream and not have to train in dark magic and be… this…” She held out her arms in front of her. Uruosted shifted uncomfortably and Marliahl seemed too scared to move, but Amyra gained some courage and pleaded with me. “Please, you must know a way. Or someone, something, that would. I can’t be a succubae, I can’t! I won’t! Please, I hate Lillith, and all of her handmaidens, I can’t go through that!” She was shaking now, and though my eyes kept creeping back to the curiously glowing bathroom, I couldn’t play this poor kid. Demon or not, she wasn’t lying about not doing this awful thing, whatever it was. She was marked and she wanted out of her fate. I could relate. So I made a stupid mistake.
“Alright, take a breath. I’ll fucking help you. I don’t know how right this second, but you remind me of someone I know. Going soft I guess.” She about vaulted into my lap but stopped herself short of the pentagram. “Oh fuck it, you didn’t draw it right at all, come here.” I held out my arms and clasped her in a hug. I’m pretty sure I had just broke a serious law between our worlds but call me a sucker for a sob story. This is definitely going to bite me in the ass.
(edits) | *Not again*, I thought to myself, as I let out a hopeless sigh.
Ever since I set foot in that bloody temple, I've had nothing but bizarrely magical experiences. It sounds like something out of a Disney flick, but no, this was something much less exciting and much more annoying.
*How will I introduce myself this time? Should I scratch at the door? Make stupid hissing noises as if I was some sort of demonic snake minded creature from Hell itself?*
*Nah*, I smiled, *I'll go for the casual approach. These guys are already scared witless.*
I knocked on the door. Their hearts almost knocked through their ribs.
One of them pleaded, with all the might of a kitten trying to emulate a lion:
"Leave us alone, we're sorry! Go back from whence you came!"
*Whence?*
My eyes nearly rolled out of their sockets.
"Whence? What do you think this is, some medieval LARP? Look, I have no idea where I am. I was just about to shower and get ready for work when you kids accidentally summoned me."
A trembling voice replied:
"But how do we know you're not a demon??"
I looked up to the ceiling. On it were pictures of orcs and elves. The walls of the room were plastered with busty ladies in skimpy armor.
"Well, opening the door would help. Didn't you even look at me before bolting? Or are you guys so wimpy that a little flash of light caused all that screaming?"
Silence. Silence that lasted a minute, but felt like a lifetime.
*I just want a taxi home*...
Slowly, the door creaked open.
In front of me stood 3 teenage boys, all quite tubby and spotty. I would call them generic nerds, but considering my passion for the occult got me into this situation, who am I to judge?
"How did you get here?" asked the long haired, greasy one. "We thought all that Ouija board stuff was nonsense, we were just trying to have a fun Friday night."
I looked at them, with the disdain of a vegan looking at a medium rare rib-eye.
"It's a long story."
| |
[WP] One second your in your house, the next you're standing in a living room surrounded by three demons. They drop their Ouija board and scream as they run to their bathroom and lock the door. "I told you we shouldn't have touched it!" | Demons live in the shadows. You aught to be cautious, yes, but there’s no need to be afraid. Demons live in the shadows or should I say beneath them, for the shadows are what keeps our worlds apart. You can say that the shadows keep us safe. For this we are surely lucky for without this wall, without this barrier, one world would surely perish beneath the wrath of the other.
How do I know this? Let me share with you my secret; I’ve have been to the other side.
This story begins like many others. I was in my kitchen. My bagel was plain but my cream cheese was thick and the lox was fresh. Life was good; my breakfast was testament to that. I raised my bagel in the air and gave my thanks saying, “God or Devil, he who breaths life into the dead and turns the cosmos on a needle and makes them spin, he who made my bagel he who also made my lox. I thank you for my bounty and for everything I’ve got.”.
My dog began to smile. It was a site that filled my soul with fear. He smiled like a human; it was as if he was a man. His eyes, they filled with fire. In those flames men burned alive. I could even hear them scream. I tried to stop him. I really did. But before I could he had begin to speak. From his eyes dripped tears, blood. He said, “amen let it be” and like that, in a flash, I was gone.
I was scared. Afraid. My adventure had just begun.
(to be continued if people like it) | *Not again*, I thought to myself, as I let out a hopeless sigh.
Ever since I set foot in that bloody temple, I've had nothing but bizarrely magical experiences. It sounds like something out of a Disney flick, but no, this was something much less exciting and much more annoying.
*How will I introduce myself this time? Should I scratch at the door? Make stupid hissing noises as if I was some sort of demonic snake minded creature from Hell itself?*
*Nah*, I smiled, *I'll go for the casual approach. These guys are already scared witless.*
I knocked on the door. Their hearts almost knocked through their ribs.
One of them pleaded, with all the might of a kitten trying to emulate a lion:
"Leave us alone, we're sorry! Go back from whence you came!"
*Whence?*
My eyes nearly rolled out of their sockets.
"Whence? What do you think this is, some medieval LARP? Look, I have no idea where I am. I was just about to shower and get ready for work when you kids accidentally summoned me."
A trembling voice replied:
"But how do we know you're not a demon??"
I looked up to the ceiling. On it were pictures of orcs and elves. The walls of the room were plastered with busty ladies in skimpy armor.
"Well, opening the door would help. Didn't you even look at me before bolting? Or are you guys so wimpy that a little flash of light caused all that screaming?"
Silence. Silence that lasted a minute, but felt like a lifetime.
*I just want a taxi home*...
Slowly, the door creaked open.
In front of me stood 3 teenage boys, all quite tubby and spotty. I would call them generic nerds, but considering my passion for the occult got me into this situation, who am I to judge?
"How did you get here?" asked the long haired, greasy one. "We thought all that Ouija board stuff was nonsense, we were just trying to have a fun Friday night."
I looked at them, with the disdain of a vegan looking at a medium rare rib-eye.
"It's a long story."
| |
[WP] One second your in your house, the next you're standing in a living room surrounded by three demons. They drop their Ouija board and scream as they run to their bathroom and lock the door. "I told you we shouldn't have touched it!" | They had waited all week for the storm to hit and now that it was here it was time. Carol and Jeff on the bottom two points of the pentagram. Thomas sat at the top with the ouiji board in front of him. "Hey guys? Aren't we supposed to hold hands or something for this part?"
Jeff and Carol looked at each other for a long moment and then turned to look at Thomas. Jeff shrugged. "Maybe. But it seems so Hollywood." Carol said light before adding, "Plus, all of us sitting on the pentagram points looks way cooler."
Thomas shifted nervously, "But why do I have to have it?"
This time Carol shrugged and Jeff answered.
"Dude? Seriously? Just get this over with and ask it a question."
Thomas huffed and placed his hand on the planchette. Fine, he decided, guess I'm going first. Inwardly grinning, he started moving the planchette from letter to letter. C-a-n-I-l-e-a-v-e-? Out of the corner of his eye, he saw lightening fill the sky. Thinking it would be funny Thomas surged to his feet and bellowed in his deepest voice, "This is what I ask of you!" As the power cut out, the 'you' echoed into the darkness. A moment of silence passed.
A candle flickered to light. Glowing red eyes met bewildered blue. Screaming and howling simultaneously caused the room to fall into darkness once more. Thomas screwed his eyes shut and braced himself for the claws he did not see but knew must exist to tear into him. When they didn't immediately, he opened one eye to the darkness. The room was a shocked stillness. Mentally shaking himself, he took a deep breath and asked, "Where am I and why am I here?". A whimper sounded to his left but was immediately muffled. Silence reined for several more seconds until Thomas put forth, "Well?"
"We are sorry! We didn't know!"
Thomas' eyes were adjusting and he turned toward the mass of darkness that spoke. "I didn't ask for an apology, I asked for an explanation."
"Guys. He can see me. He turned towards me. What do I do?" She was panicking.
"Stop shaking, if it can see you then it can see your weakness."
"It can't hurt you- we drew that barrier right? It shouldn't be able to cross"
Thomas allowed the back and forth to go on for sometime before he decided to interject, "Would you mind now answering my questions?" He took a step forward to the edge of the supposed barrier. Partly to frighten the speaker but also partly to see if the barrier was real. Before he could take another step, a voice to his right spoke quickly, "We summoned you, we didn't know it would work. And you are in the 5th level of hell." Thomas spun on his heel and strode toward the voice and crouched down as close to the barrier and the face of the new voice as possible. "Thank you. Now. Send. Me. Home." The whimpering started up again but Thomas felt no guilt reasoning he was just as scared as they were if not more since he was apparently caged into one space.
A scramble activity ensued. A table was righted. Hushed voices whispered so softly, Thomas couldn't make out the words. A board clanked onto the table. Thomas smiled, pleased something was being done. A scraping noise was heard and then he was spinning into the darkness. | *Not again*, I thought to myself, as I let out a hopeless sigh.
Ever since I set foot in that bloody temple, I've had nothing but bizarrely magical experiences. It sounds like something out of a Disney flick, but no, this was something much less exciting and much more annoying.
*How will I introduce myself this time? Should I scratch at the door? Make stupid hissing noises as if I was some sort of demonic snake minded creature from Hell itself?*
*Nah*, I smiled, *I'll go for the casual approach. These guys are already scared witless.*
I knocked on the door. Their hearts almost knocked through their ribs.
One of them pleaded, with all the might of a kitten trying to emulate a lion:
"Leave us alone, we're sorry! Go back from whence you came!"
*Whence?*
My eyes nearly rolled out of their sockets.
"Whence? What do you think this is, some medieval LARP? Look, I have no idea where I am. I was just about to shower and get ready for work when you kids accidentally summoned me."
A trembling voice replied:
"But how do we know you're not a demon??"
I looked up to the ceiling. On it were pictures of orcs and elves. The walls of the room were plastered with busty ladies in skimpy armor.
"Well, opening the door would help. Didn't you even look at me before bolting? Or are you guys so wimpy that a little flash of light caused all that screaming?"
Silence. Silence that lasted a minute, but felt like a lifetime.
*I just want a taxi home*...
Slowly, the door creaked open.
In front of me stood 3 teenage boys, all quite tubby and spotty. I would call them generic nerds, but considering my passion for the occult got me into this situation, who am I to judge?
"How did you get here?" asked the long haired, greasy one. "We thought all that Ouija board stuff was nonsense, we were just trying to have a fun Friday night."
I looked at them, with the disdain of a vegan looking at a medium rare rib-eye.
"It's a long story."
| |
[WP] One second your in your house, the next you're standing in a living room surrounded by three demons. They drop their Ouija board and scream as they run to their bathroom and lock the door. "I told you we shouldn't have touched it!" | I had just filled up my cereal bowl and was about to enjoy a late breakfast when that familiar feeling came on me again. Dang-it, I already regretted that deal I had made with that thieving “Ouija the Fantabulous”.
At the time it had sounded like easy money – As a member of the Dimension Monitoring Security Division, “D-MonS” for short – traveling the inter-dimensional gateways was old hat. It was during an epic drinking bout last year that my “Friend” and drinking companion had come up with the idea of us popping into each others home dimensions and putting a scare on unsuspecting mundanes. We would do “Magic Shows” where we would pretend to summon a “Daemon”, and after a bit of theatrical fahlderol the “Summoned Daemon” would step back through the gateway and go back to their regular life while the Magician raked in the samollions from the unsuspecting marks. “Easy Money” he said. “What could go wrong?” he said. My big toe, I say.
With his red skin, horns and wings, he could easily pass as some sort Daemonic presence on Earth, especially if he dropped a flash bomb just before he appeared. Likewise I, a rather plain non-descript human on my own home dimension, would appear exotic and dangerous when I stepped out of the gateway on his world in a cloud of smoke with a dramatic gesture.
The only problem was while I had only used the Summoner Device on him a couple times (that one séance with my Aunt Gertruda was epic!) that jack-wipe had created his “Ouija Boards” which triggered the gateway whenever some thrill-seeking teenager played around with it , so I was constantly being summoned and having to do my “Scary Daemon” act in increasingly uncomfortable situations. Plus that thief had copyrighted the technology so he was pulling in royalties off of every copy of the damn board that he sold, while I was stuck with bupkiss – not a red cent!!!
When the smoke cleared, I had a brief glimpse of a trio of obviously under-aged creatures sitting around the damned board, who gave me one wide-eyed look before screaming in terror and running off and locking themselves into what I presume was a lavatory of some sort. OK, I admit the bath-robe was getting a bit shabby, and I was still suffering from a severe case of Bed Hair, but still it seemed like a little bit of an over-reaction. Pulling a card from my robe pocket I read off the required copyrighted script: “Behold the power of the Ouija! Who dares to disturb my slumber of 1000 years! You have dabbled in powers that are beyond your ken and understanding! Terrifying – blah-blah-blah, uh, yeah OOoooh Scary! Don’t disturb me again. Copyright Oujia Magic Supplies, the best Magic comes from Ouija!” And I stepped back into the cloud of mist and triggered the return cycle. Bet my damn cereal was going to be soggy.
(With apologies to Robert Lyn Aspirin)
| *Not again*, I thought to myself, as I let out a hopeless sigh.
Ever since I set foot in that bloody temple, I've had nothing but bizarrely magical experiences. It sounds like something out of a Disney flick, but no, this was something much less exciting and much more annoying.
*How will I introduce myself this time? Should I scratch at the door? Make stupid hissing noises as if I was some sort of demonic snake minded creature from Hell itself?*
*Nah*, I smiled, *I'll go for the casual approach. These guys are already scared witless.*
I knocked on the door. Their hearts almost knocked through their ribs.
One of them pleaded, with all the might of a kitten trying to emulate a lion:
"Leave us alone, we're sorry! Go back from whence you came!"
*Whence?*
My eyes nearly rolled out of their sockets.
"Whence? What do you think this is, some medieval LARP? Look, I have no idea where I am. I was just about to shower and get ready for work when you kids accidentally summoned me."
A trembling voice replied:
"But how do we know you're not a demon??"
I looked up to the ceiling. On it were pictures of orcs and elves. The walls of the room were plastered with busty ladies in skimpy armor.
"Well, opening the door would help. Didn't you even look at me before bolting? Or are you guys so wimpy that a little flash of light caused all that screaming?"
Silence. Silence that lasted a minute, but felt like a lifetime.
*I just want a taxi home*...
Slowly, the door creaked open.
In front of me stood 3 teenage boys, all quite tubby and spotty. I would call them generic nerds, but considering my passion for the occult got me into this situation, who am I to judge?
"How did you get here?" asked the long haired, greasy one. "We thought all that Ouija board stuff was nonsense, we were just trying to have a fun Friday night."
I looked at them, with the disdain of a vegan looking at a medium rare rib-eye.
"It's a long story."
| |
[WP] One second your in your house, the next you're standing in a living room surrounded by three demons. They drop their Ouija board and scream as they run to their bathroom and lock the door. "I told you we shouldn't have touched it!" | "I told you, Urglesh!" yelled the Scourge of Ten Worlds, "I told you they were real!" His back was pinned against a baroque, iron door.
"Yeah well, I thought you were joking, humans are a myth! Everyone knows that, even little demonettes and imps. Shut up and grab that chair and block the door." The Scourge scrambled for a bone chair and wedged it between the eternal handle and the soulstone floor.
"Oh Lucifer, oh Lucifer help us!" squeaked the nameless horror from the corner of the room. He rocked back and forwards with his hands on his horns.
".....Urglesh, has it gone?"
".....I don't know. It's gone quiet."
"It's up to something! I heard they can teleport!"
*tap tap tap*
"Nyaaaaagh, it's at the door! Go away foul creature, leave us in suffering!"
"Human, foul beast, what do you want with us? Please, don't hurt us!"
"....okay it's just that I'd like to go home?"
"THEN GO!"
"Well... I'm not sure how?"
"....is this a trap?"
"No. I'd rather like to go, I don't know where I am and I don't think I like it. Why is everything screaming?"
"I.... well, they are the lost souls of the damned. I only got them last month," pouted the Scourge, "They're not cheap, you know."
"I see. They're.... yes. Quite. So, do you think I could go home?"
"Urglesh, can we send..... it.... home?"
"I don't know, maybe?"
"....oh good, thank you. I'll just wait out here, shall I?"
"Yes! Don't touch anything."
"Right, no, of course. I'll just have a sit down and let you chaps sort it out. I don't suppose you've got any tea? No, silly question." They heard shuffling and footsteps. None of them moved, lest it return.
Urglesh put one of his twelve eyes to the keyhole in the infernal door, checking if the coast was clear.
"Don't look!" shouted the scourge, "I heard they can turn you to stone with a glance!"
"I tell you, nameless horror, those things creep me out. Did you see its skin? It wasn't moving or bleeding, and it didn't even have horns..."
"And what in the nine heavens is 'tea'?"
| *Not again*, I thought to myself, as I let out a hopeless sigh.
Ever since I set foot in that bloody temple, I've had nothing but bizarrely magical experiences. It sounds like something out of a Disney flick, but no, this was something much less exciting and much more annoying.
*How will I introduce myself this time? Should I scratch at the door? Make stupid hissing noises as if I was some sort of demonic snake minded creature from Hell itself?*
*Nah*, I smiled, *I'll go for the casual approach. These guys are already scared witless.*
I knocked on the door. Their hearts almost knocked through their ribs.
One of them pleaded, with all the might of a kitten trying to emulate a lion:
"Leave us alone, we're sorry! Go back from whence you came!"
*Whence?*
My eyes nearly rolled out of their sockets.
"Whence? What do you think this is, some medieval LARP? Look, I have no idea where I am. I was just about to shower and get ready for work when you kids accidentally summoned me."
A trembling voice replied:
"But how do we know you're not a demon??"
I looked up to the ceiling. On it were pictures of orcs and elves. The walls of the room were plastered with busty ladies in skimpy armor.
"Well, opening the door would help. Didn't you even look at me before bolting? Or are you guys so wimpy that a little flash of light caused all that screaming?"
Silence. Silence that lasted a minute, but felt like a lifetime.
*I just want a taxi home*...
Slowly, the door creaked open.
In front of me stood 3 teenage boys, all quite tubby and spotty. I would call them generic nerds, but considering my passion for the occult got me into this situation, who am I to judge?
"How did you get here?" asked the long haired, greasy one. "We thought all that Ouija board stuff was nonsense, we were just trying to have a fun Friday night."
I looked at them, with the disdain of a vegan looking at a medium rare rib-eye.
"It's a long story."
| |
[WP] One second your in your house, the next you're standing in a living room surrounded by three demons. They drop their Ouija board and scream as they run to their bathroom and lock the door. "I told you we shouldn't have touched it!" |
I fucking hate Ouija boards. I’ve watched enough scary movies and dabbled deep enough in my years to learn what to respect while using and what just not to fuck with. I will not touch those cursed pieces of shit and will leave a party if someone pulls it out 'for funsies'. There's nothing fun or good about a Ouija board, and now I know firsthand why nothing ever good comes from one.
Normally, I play video games on my computer after my Saturday shifts; smoking bowls, maybe video chat my mum, a laid back start to my official weekend. Today was not going to follow my lazy afternoon schedule, however. As I take a hit I start to feel a pressure build around my ears, slowly spreading along my body. For a second I'm concerned that I've just hit that point of no return and maybe I should retreat to the couch when I’m hit with a wave of nausea and excruciating pain. I’ll bet anything it was something like the bends; feeling a crushing weight from the entire ocean multiplied over every millimeter of your body, trillions of your atoms crying out in agony as natural limits are pushed and ignored; or something to that effect. Right after I have the thought that this is a seizure and I’m going to die, smoking pot, in my underwear, the pressure gives with a sickening *pop* and I'm no longer in my chair.
After the ringing subsides a tad and my vision stops swimming, I realize I'm sitting awkwardly on top of a coffee table pipe still in hand. I exhale gratefully, realizing I’m no longer being atomically torn apart. Silently, three, very ugly teenagers gawked around me. One female looking one directly in front of me screams, an unholy howl that makes my head feel like it’s caving in again. I slap my hands over my ears and screw my eyes shut, body keeling in, trying to block out the awful noise. "I told you we shouldn't have touched it!" I hear a second voice crow over the end of the unearthly wail. The fading sob retreats among the thumping of wild, hooves? Unless everyone was wearing stilettos, feet don't click like that. Nothing is making sense right now and I feel like I’m going to puke. I should have gone to bed early, I remember thinking.
Unshielding my tender lobes, I gingerly glance about. I was alone and seemed to be in the midst of a poorly constructed seance. Multicoloured candles in glass jars and various holders guttered and waved on various end tables. A mantel piece above a dead fire sported an impressive candelabra of thirteen black candles, and five more blinked on the ground surrounding me on the tips of, you guessed it, a pentagram. "Jesus FUCKING Christ." My matter of fact curse summoned a trio of muffled gasps from behind me. Turning, I spy a simple door with light telling through the cracks. I chuckle, stand, and knock a silver locket off the table. Some more scuffling from behind me and when I turn again I see a dark closed door.
The absurdity of what just happened begins to dawn on me at this point, and to put it bluntly, I lost my shit. I need to say, I have a rather cackley laugh. You know when you get a good belly laugh; like your own special brand of semi-embarressing, not for polite social circles laugh? The one that surfaces when you least want it to, but hot damn that joke was well timed. If not, you may have that friend with the donkey laugh, the snorter, the lumberjack, etc. Well, I'm the fucking evil witch. So imagine me now, standing in my panties and bra, holding a pipe, in the middle of a b-movie budget summoning circle, cackling my white girl ass off while three poor bastards shit themselves in a bathroom. Thinking this is either the most fucked up practical joke or the start of a bad porn, it then dawned on me, for better or worse, that I had the upper hand.
Quickly realizing that the ring wasn’t designed to keep me in (stupid mistake, those can get you killed), I decided to use that to my advantage and play dumb. Picking up the necklace I had knocked earlier, I turned my attention to the ‘altar’ which I had appeared upon. There was a bottle of wine (partially drunk) with accompanying glass, some heavy, heady, incense that reminded me of a good thai place, a few red jam biscuits on a blue china plate, a bloody hunting knife, and some assorted coloured stones. Add the necklace and I’d say that it was a cute attempt at offerings, but this junk isn’t what sucked me through a dimension, or whatever, happened. I scan the living room that looked straight out of a Vampire’s Secret catalogue for anything that could start making sense, fast.
A rising argument filtered into the shadowed room, three little voices pitched in fear behind the bathroom door. Barely making out words like ‘contract’, and ‘bound’, a general consensus of ‘not to be trusted’ chorused in innocent whispers. Stifling an outburst of cackles, I listen as some agreement is formed and silence is restored. Slowly, painfully, the knob turns, and the door whines, and eyes appear at it’s edge. I wave coyly and the door nearly slams shut once more. Again the door protests until a representative is pushed out onto their face. The girl that was in front of me when I was so rudely interrupted straightened herself hastily and stammered apologies in a few different languages. She must fancy herself a mage, I thought, taking in her handsewn robes and gaudy pendants. A ragged braid curled out of her hood as I locked eyes with the demon girl. Bright green, faintly glowing, slitted, and full of fear; clearly someone overstepped their abilities, even if she was more powerful than me in her birthright as a succubae. As she spoke an old tongue poorly, outlining her vague reasons for contact and request for a deal be brokered I noticed an odd glow from the door.
“Alright miss thing, that’s enough.” I began, the little demon started and backed up a step. I smiled gently and cooed, “All business and no manners can lead to poor relations, darling. Plus your latin sucks.” She paled, if that was physically possible for the ghostly thing, and ducked her head mumbling, “I’m so sorry Mortal One, excuse me, I,-” “Shh. It’s cool, the old ways are outdated and tedious and I’m sick of that shit. Save the pomp for your Masters. Very few things really matter anymore in the working world and that’s payment and sacrifice.” A moan quivered from the bathroom and the little mage visibly gulped. I’ve got their full attention now. “If you want anything from me, you have to pay for it. In equal trade.” “But my mom’s necklace and our blood!” She thrust out her arm, the confusion and anger roiled off of her in putrid waves. “Calm down, kid!” You can keep your mom’s necklace, and you’ll be healed in a day or two, you know that.” I huffed, feeling much like a frustrated teacher instead of a pissed off not-so-captive. Her shoulders slumped forward, stuffing her bandaged hand in her robes. “Tell your friends to come out of the bathroom, I’m not going to eat them, it’s not dinner yet.” She turned to the bathroom and shrugged. Two more horrific victims of puberty shyly shuffled out into the low lit room. “Tell me your names. I know the rules, just the first will do.” They seemed about to protest, but their leader spoke up first. “Amyra. I am Amyra.” Then, “Uruosted.” “Marliahl.” “Good.” I made a show of sitting down on the altar smoothing the tablecloth and inclining my head to the ground in front of me. The little butts found carpet and I continued. “Seeing as you summoned me, you know my name, my titles, et cetera ad naseum yadda yadda. What I need to know is what you want from me, so I can decide whether it’s worth my time and to decide if you can pay.” Squirming from the leader, then plaintive, too old eyes, turned up at me and Amyra softly whispered, “I want to be a mortal like you.”
I wasn’t expecting this of course. I had steeled myself for murder requests, ancient wisdom, even a fucking burger from McDonalds on the other side, but this was the last thing I thought I’d hear from a demon. My charade faltered slightly, and muttered a woah under my breath. Then Amyra began to babble. “I don’t want to be a succubae and take mens souls. I want to be a girl and go on dates and eat ice cream and not have to train in dark magic and be… this…” She held out her arms in front of her. Uruosted shifted uncomfortably and Marliahl seemed too scared to move, but Amyra gained some courage and pleaded with me. “Please, you must know a way. Or someone, something, that would. I can’t be a succubae, I can’t! I won’t! Please, I hate Lillith, and all of her handmaidens, I can’t go through that!” She was shaking now, and though my eyes kept creeping back to the curiously glowing bathroom, I couldn’t play this poor kid. Demon or not, she wasn’t lying about not doing this awful thing, whatever it was. She was marked and she wanted out of her fate. I could relate. So I made a stupid mistake.
“Alright, take a breath. I’ll fucking help you. I don’t know how right this second, but you remind me of someone I know. Going soft I guess.” She about vaulted into my lap but stopped herself short of the pentagram. “Oh fuck it, you didn’t draw it right at all, come here.” I held out my arms and clasped her in a hug. I’m pretty sure I had just broke a serious law between our worlds but call me a sucker for a sob story. This is definitely going to bite me in the ass.
(edits) | I felt like some disembodied god being, hanging I space, though I was concealed in the darkness presumably.
I know in a moment what's happened, and realize I have to act boldly and quickly, as only the demons who summoned me can return me home.
The room I found myself in was a unique form of darkness. From the circle in the middle of the room where they had made a small pentagram, light seemed to diminish, as though the darkness were hungry, it swallowed the light effortlessly. I kicked open the bathroom door.
The demons infront of me were gnarled in their faces with thick bones, the tallest of the three, with a dark-red pigmet of skin and yellow surrounding is black pupils stood with his back against the bathroom wall,
The shortest of the three basically jumped ontop of the wooden box in the ground which I can only assume was a latrine of sorts, his eyes were white in the center contrasting his blue face, and he looked at the other two demons fearfully, as if trying to figure out what he should do.
The third demon, presumably female with a yellow tinge to her rough skin looked on the edge of fight and flight, not sure if she could attack or not.
Despite their normal and average statures and builds, I could tell that their actual material was made of something other than human, something supernatural and inconceivably strong. I had no doubt I my mind that they could rip me limb from limb if they so chose. I took a deep breath.
FOOLS! " I declared, in a booming voice
throwing my frail, human arms above my head stupidly in the dark
"Why have you summoned me to this wretched, despicable place?!"
The demons quaked at that, even the female lost her slight edge of confidence, though she seemed suspicious, moreso than the other two.
"Fucking hell Richard" the blue demon said in almost a whisper to the red demon, "I told you, I told you we shouldn't have touched it!"
"Relax! " Richard said, trying to calm the other, "Relax Thomas, were in the light, it can't come into the light, it can't leave the darkness"
I lowered my voice to a quieter, serious tone, letting it seep out of the darkness toward them
"You fools, you petulant children, awoke me from the aeons. Brought me here, to this realm, you call it a home? a place of being? I've swallowed civilizations, I've drank the souls thousand year old cultures, watched them all grow and flourish, rise to power, and decay, thrashed upon the sands of eternity like waves on a forgotten beach" I said, hoping they knew what beaches were.
"You have brought me here, " I continued" Yet you don't even know my name? Tell me, do you know what deity it is with which you contend?" I said, seriously hoping they didn't.
"AW MAN, FUCK MAN" The female said "It's U.G man, I FUCKING TOLD YOU RICHARD, MAN, DON'T FUCK WITH IT, AND NOW YOU FUCKING SUMMONED THE FIRST VOICE!
I tried to hide the clearing of my throat "Then you know what fear I will bring, what desolation! You know that I know you, and all you have been and will be. Richard, Thomas, and, YOU. YOU KNOW WHO I AM! then you must know, that as I am now here I must grant you three wishes before you can return me home.
HOWEVER, because you have earned my disfavor for summoning me dishonorably I will grant them in a context suiting to each of your fates, which I have preordained, from my realm of the stars.
Richard stepped forward first, to the light of the door, so boldly I almost thought he'd come further, and I pretty much shit my pants in fear, I flinched in the dark but he couldn't see
"I Wish for power great U.G! "Show me power!"
"VERY WELL!" I said. You will know the truest power knowable to demon kind. That is the power of knowledge. You will have knowledge beyond any else, none else shall have a fraction of the vast library of resources that you do to draw upon! Does this please you?" I asked. His yellow eyes were flashed with brilliant joy and he nodded "Very much so U.G! thank you!
"Thomas come forward!" I said
The blue, heaver demon stepped forward, eyes still fearful, slightly neurotic, he actually physically bowed and I nearly laughed but caught myself, remembering my life was on the line
"I wish for serenity!" he said meekly
"Serenity.. Hm.. " I thought quietly, "Serenity comes to those who work and strive Thomas, it comes in a moment of bliss when the stars, which I rule, align, and one reaps the fruits of a fearless ascent from darkness. If you work, by the guidance in which I have changed your course today, you will achieve serenity in only 7 short years"
"Thank you U.G!" he said and stepped back.
"AND YOU. I said, to the third demon whose name I had no idea of. She was disturbingly quiet and astute "Come forward into the center of the light!"
She did, and more confidently so then I had anticipated, which worried me further
"My wish, she said "Is to see your face. So that I can know the face of god"
I pretty much choked on my own throat at that point.
"Do you know, " I asked, "What has ever happened to those who have laid eyes on the face of god?" She stared into the darkness at me, shaking her head
"Once, I appeared In my truest form before a demon who wished to see me. He was driven mad by the ordinariness my appearance. He could not comprehend that god , something so powerful, could be so ordinary, and mundane. He had always craved power, and upon seeing me, his dreams crumbled, seemed to lose meaning.
The second time, was under the wish of a demon who was a clergy member, seeking to know my essence to achieve a state of liberation. When I appeared for him he felt his being surrender, and so achieved his liberation through that means. But it was as though the candle of his life was brought to extinction. He lost the essence of what he was and lived in eternal emptiness.
And the third to wish to see me was a demoness like yourself " I said carefully now, realizing my plan had to work or I'd be killed.
"She saw my form, and was in awe. . Her realization, that something so mundane, so ordinary, could have created all of existence drove her to self destruction. Madness took her, absorbed her soul. Knowing this.. Do you still wish to see me?"
"I DO" she said challengingly, having caught onto the ploy, it seemed
"Shit" I thought to myself, "Very well then! I WILL APPEAR! BRACE YOURSELVES!" I said in a booming, thunderous voice that seemed to shake the small bathroom
The other two demons looked manic, terrified "Catherine what are you DOING" they were saying "Are you insane didn't you hear what he said?!" Their fear was contagious because even her confidence faltered then "We'll all be killed, or driven insane!" Thomas was saying.
"I-I'm not afraid, appear! " She was saying .
Richard was yelling then, "Stop Catherine! U.G, she doesn't mean what she says!"
Thomas moved from his spot by the latrine to grab her and try to shake sense into her
I ran forward then, into the light of the bathroom, and into the three quarreling demons.
I will say. Such looks of awe I have never seen on the two males faces, as my skinny, naked, human form ran by them,
and such shock, and contempt, I have never seen on a face, as that of the demonesses as she realized her intuition was right, and she had been fooled.
I Leapt past them, into the latrine.
"Weeeee!" I said, raising my arms above my head, as I plunged into the pooey abyss below.
The very final end.
Fin | |
[WP] One second your in your house, the next you're standing in a living room surrounded by three demons. They drop their Ouija board and scream as they run to their bathroom and lock the door. "I told you we shouldn't have touched it!" |
I fucking hate Ouija boards. I’ve watched enough scary movies and dabbled deep enough in my years to learn what to respect while using and what just not to fuck with. I will not touch those cursed pieces of shit and will leave a party if someone pulls it out 'for funsies'. There's nothing fun or good about a Ouija board, and now I know firsthand why nothing ever good comes from one.
Normally, I play video games on my computer after my Saturday shifts; smoking bowls, maybe video chat my mum, a laid back start to my official weekend. Today was not going to follow my lazy afternoon schedule, however. As I take a hit I start to feel a pressure build around my ears, slowly spreading along my body. For a second I'm concerned that I've just hit that point of no return and maybe I should retreat to the couch when I’m hit with a wave of nausea and excruciating pain. I’ll bet anything it was something like the bends; feeling a crushing weight from the entire ocean multiplied over every millimeter of your body, trillions of your atoms crying out in agony as natural limits are pushed and ignored; or something to that effect. Right after I have the thought that this is a seizure and I’m going to die, smoking pot, in my underwear, the pressure gives with a sickening *pop* and I'm no longer in my chair.
After the ringing subsides a tad and my vision stops swimming, I realize I'm sitting awkwardly on top of a coffee table pipe still in hand. I exhale gratefully, realizing I’m no longer being atomically torn apart. Silently, three, very ugly teenagers gawked around me. One female looking one directly in front of me screams, an unholy howl that makes my head feel like it’s caving in again. I slap my hands over my ears and screw my eyes shut, body keeling in, trying to block out the awful noise. "I told you we shouldn't have touched it!" I hear a second voice crow over the end of the unearthly wail. The fading sob retreats among the thumping of wild, hooves? Unless everyone was wearing stilettos, feet don't click like that. Nothing is making sense right now and I feel like I’m going to puke. I should have gone to bed early, I remember thinking.
Unshielding my tender lobes, I gingerly glance about. I was alone and seemed to be in the midst of a poorly constructed seance. Multicoloured candles in glass jars and various holders guttered and waved on various end tables. A mantel piece above a dead fire sported an impressive candelabra of thirteen black candles, and five more blinked on the ground surrounding me on the tips of, you guessed it, a pentagram. "Jesus FUCKING Christ." My matter of fact curse summoned a trio of muffled gasps from behind me. Turning, I spy a simple door with light telling through the cracks. I chuckle, stand, and knock a silver locket off the table. Some more scuffling from behind me and when I turn again I see a dark closed door.
The absurdity of what just happened begins to dawn on me at this point, and to put it bluntly, I lost my shit. I need to say, I have a rather cackley laugh. You know when you get a good belly laugh; like your own special brand of semi-embarressing, not for polite social circles laugh? The one that surfaces when you least want it to, but hot damn that joke was well timed. If not, you may have that friend with the donkey laugh, the snorter, the lumberjack, etc. Well, I'm the fucking evil witch. So imagine me now, standing in my panties and bra, holding a pipe, in the middle of a b-movie budget summoning circle, cackling my white girl ass off while three poor bastards shit themselves in a bathroom. Thinking this is either the most fucked up practical joke or the start of a bad porn, it then dawned on me, for better or worse, that I had the upper hand.
Quickly realizing that the ring wasn’t designed to keep me in (stupid mistake, those can get you killed), I decided to use that to my advantage and play dumb. Picking up the necklace I had knocked earlier, I turned my attention to the ‘altar’ which I had appeared upon. There was a bottle of wine (partially drunk) with accompanying glass, some heavy, heady, incense that reminded me of a good thai place, a few red jam biscuits on a blue china plate, a bloody hunting knife, and some assorted coloured stones. Add the necklace and I’d say that it was a cute attempt at offerings, but this junk isn’t what sucked me through a dimension, or whatever, happened. I scan the living room that looked straight out of a Vampire’s Secret catalogue for anything that could start making sense, fast.
A rising argument filtered into the shadowed room, three little voices pitched in fear behind the bathroom door. Barely making out words like ‘contract’, and ‘bound’, a general consensus of ‘not to be trusted’ chorused in innocent whispers. Stifling an outburst of cackles, I listen as some agreement is formed and silence is restored. Slowly, painfully, the knob turns, and the door whines, and eyes appear at it’s edge. I wave coyly and the door nearly slams shut once more. Again the door protests until a representative is pushed out onto their face. The girl that was in front of me when I was so rudely interrupted straightened herself hastily and stammered apologies in a few different languages. She must fancy herself a mage, I thought, taking in her handsewn robes and gaudy pendants. A ragged braid curled out of her hood as I locked eyes with the demon girl. Bright green, faintly glowing, slitted, and full of fear; clearly someone overstepped their abilities, even if she was more powerful than me in her birthright as a succubae. As she spoke an old tongue poorly, outlining her vague reasons for contact and request for a deal be brokered I noticed an odd glow from the door.
“Alright miss thing, that’s enough.” I began, the little demon started and backed up a step. I smiled gently and cooed, “All business and no manners can lead to poor relations, darling. Plus your latin sucks.” She paled, if that was physically possible for the ghostly thing, and ducked her head mumbling, “I’m so sorry Mortal One, excuse me, I,-” “Shh. It’s cool, the old ways are outdated and tedious and I’m sick of that shit. Save the pomp for your Masters. Very few things really matter anymore in the working world and that’s payment and sacrifice.” A moan quivered from the bathroom and the little mage visibly gulped. I’ve got their full attention now. “If you want anything from me, you have to pay for it. In equal trade.” “But my mom’s necklace and our blood!” She thrust out her arm, the confusion and anger roiled off of her in putrid waves. “Calm down, kid!” You can keep your mom’s necklace, and you’ll be healed in a day or two, you know that.” I huffed, feeling much like a frustrated teacher instead of a pissed off not-so-captive. Her shoulders slumped forward, stuffing her bandaged hand in her robes. “Tell your friends to come out of the bathroom, I’m not going to eat them, it’s not dinner yet.” She turned to the bathroom and shrugged. Two more horrific victims of puberty shyly shuffled out into the low lit room. “Tell me your names. I know the rules, just the first will do.” They seemed about to protest, but their leader spoke up first. “Amyra. I am Amyra.” Then, “Uruosted.” “Marliahl.” “Good.” I made a show of sitting down on the altar smoothing the tablecloth and inclining my head to the ground in front of me. The little butts found carpet and I continued. “Seeing as you summoned me, you know my name, my titles, et cetera ad naseum yadda yadda. What I need to know is what you want from me, so I can decide whether it’s worth my time and to decide if you can pay.” Squirming from the leader, then plaintive, too old eyes, turned up at me and Amyra softly whispered, “I want to be a mortal like you.”
I wasn’t expecting this of course. I had steeled myself for murder requests, ancient wisdom, even a fucking burger from McDonalds on the other side, but this was the last thing I thought I’d hear from a demon. My charade faltered slightly, and muttered a woah under my breath. Then Amyra began to babble. “I don’t want to be a succubae and take mens souls. I want to be a girl and go on dates and eat ice cream and not have to train in dark magic and be… this…” She held out her arms in front of her. Uruosted shifted uncomfortably and Marliahl seemed too scared to move, but Amyra gained some courage and pleaded with me. “Please, you must know a way. Or someone, something, that would. I can’t be a succubae, I can’t! I won’t! Please, I hate Lillith, and all of her handmaidens, I can’t go through that!” She was shaking now, and though my eyes kept creeping back to the curiously glowing bathroom, I couldn’t play this poor kid. Demon or not, she wasn’t lying about not doing this awful thing, whatever it was. She was marked and she wanted out of her fate. I could relate. So I made a stupid mistake.
“Alright, take a breath. I’ll fucking help you. I don’t know how right this second, but you remind me of someone I know. Going soft I guess.” She about vaulted into my lap but stopped herself short of the pentagram. “Oh fuck it, you didn’t draw it right at all, come here.” I held out my arms and clasped her in a hug. I’m pretty sure I had just broke a serious law between our worlds but call me a sucker for a sob story. This is definitely going to bite me in the ass.
(edits) | ...First time poster. I'm not a writer, but these prompts are fun to think about.
It was a Sunday. Day of rest, my ass. Six grueling hours in the heat. My yard had taken a turn for the worse and today I conquered it. Three years of weeds and neglect were dealt with today. My yard looked like a horror victim with all the dandelions, weeds, and trees I tore from the ground.
But it was done. I was done. I knew what had to come next. What kept me going for the last five hours.
I stripped off my clothes once I got there. Why did we think it was a good idea to keep the air conditioning off today? UP on the plunger. UP on the cold water spout. I jumped in the cold shower and felt the relief I needed. After I lathered my body in soap, I closed my eyes and started working on my sweaty, sweaty, hair. I was going to get clean, then go get fucked up at tonight's Halloween party.
"AAAAAAAAHHHHH"
"NOOOO"
"OH MY SATAN"
What the hell was that? I tried to open my eyes but the shampoo got in them and I screamed loudly. I tried to wash it out, but the water wasn't there anymore. All I was left with was soapy suds all over my body.
"Jesus Christ, Damien. Turn the water back on", I yelled.
"HE KNOWS MY NAME!"
"HE INVOKED THE POWERS OF JESUS"
"I told you we shouldn't have touched it!"
Whatever. Damien and his stupid pranks. Unable to open my eyes, I reached for the towel. No towel. Great. At least I know where he is from his screaming. "Daaamieeeeeen" I said, waving my arms to feel for objects. "I'm coming to give you a big soapy huuuuuugggg".
"NoooOOOOOOO"
Even though I couldn't see, I knew where that bastard was from his cries. He was going to smell like fresh lavendar by the time I was done with him. It was difficult trying to feel my way to the door, though. Nothing was where I thought it would be. Oh well, I was blind but I knew where I needed to go.
BANG. I finally reached the bathroom door. But it was locked? How? "Daaamiieeeeen. The power of Christ compels you to open this door for me......"
"AHHHH"
"WE"RE DEAD"
"I told you we shouldn't have touched it!"
Oh, it felt like a different door altogether. It seems like Damien replaced our normal door with a rotten chunk of wood he found somewhere. A few shoulder charges should deal with it.
BANG
BANG
BANG
Finally through the door. I knew he was close. I lunged and grabbed something. "Time for a hug to cleanse your sins, Damien." I pulled him forward and rubbed all the soap I could over that pranking punk. As I did, I rubbed my eyes over his warm clothing to get the soap out of them.
When was finally able to see, nothing made sense. I was in some strange room and there were three weirdos here. Two were in the corner trying to scoop shit on themselves and the third was in my arms and convulsing like a stuck pig. I let go of him immediately and saw him fall to the floor. After a few more convulsions, he stopped and lay still. I hope he didn't just OD on something.
I turned to the other two and yelled, "Jesus! What in God's name is going on here?!"
They both shivered and passed out. Great. Wherever I was, it everyone clearly had too much to drink. Oh well. Time to clean them off and figure out where I am.
| |
[WP] One second your in your house, the next you're standing in a living room surrounded by three demons. They drop their Ouija board and scream as they run to their bathroom and lock the door. "I told you we shouldn't have touched it!" | Demons live in the shadows. You aught to be cautious, yes, but there’s no need to be afraid. Demons live in the shadows or should I say beneath them, for the shadows are what keeps our worlds apart. You can say that the shadows keep us safe. For this we are surely lucky for without this wall, without this barrier, one world would surely perish beneath the wrath of the other.
How do I know this? Let me share with you my secret; I’ve have been to the other side.
This story begins like many others. I was in my kitchen. My bagel was plain but my cream cheese was thick and the lox was fresh. Life was good; my breakfast was testament to that. I raised my bagel in the air and gave my thanks saying, “God or Devil, he who breaths life into the dead and turns the cosmos on a needle and makes them spin, he who made my bagel he who also made my lox. I thank you for my bounty and for everything I’ve got.”.
My dog began to smile. It was a site that filled my soul with fear. He smiled like a human; it was as if he was a man. His eyes, they filled with fire. In those flames men burned alive. I could even hear them scream. I tried to stop him. I really did. But before I could he had begin to speak. From his eyes dripped tears, blood. He said, “amen let it be” and like that, in a flash, I was gone.
I was scared. Afraid. My adventure had just begun.
(to be continued if people like it) | It was a chilly, Monday morning when I was teleported out of my kitchen. I ended up in a room with four hellish creatures. They looked at me and I looked at them. We both screamed at the same time. They ran into the nearest bathroom to discuss what they should do. I sat outside the door, listening to their plans.
“We should send her back,” said demon #1.
“We should vivisect her and see how humans work,” said demon #2.
“Nah,” said demon #1, “We aren’t Japanese nor German in WWII.”
“We should not have played with that board,” whispered demon #3, “Master will whip us all again until we are near death.”
I ran behind the sofa as they came out. I didn’t know what to do but be frightened. Demons were notorious for tricking humans and wearing them like meatsuits when they go topside. I found a dagger next to me. Next thing I knew, all the demons were dead and I was covered in blood.
The master walked in to see what the matter was. I stood there and locked eyes with him. The master growled at me. Claws bared, he lunged at me. I dodged and slashed him.
“Please send me back,” I said, “I didn’t want to be here. I just wanted to finish my grilled cheese sandwich.”
“If you can beat me at chess, then I will let you go,” said the master. He summoned a chess board from thin air. The game began.
Move by move, we played. Until I finally managed to get him into checkmate. He howled that I cheated even though it was a fair match and really hard to cheat at chess.
Quicker than lightning, I was returned to my home. I returned to my skillet and finished my sandwich. After which I nailed a horseshoe above my front door, so no demon or demonic power could enter and whisk me away again.
| |
[WP] One second your in your house, the next you're standing in a living room surrounded by three demons. They drop their Ouija board and scream as they run to their bathroom and lock the door. "I told you we shouldn't have touched it!" | They had waited all week for the storm to hit and now that it was here it was time. Carol and Jeff on the bottom two points of the pentagram. Thomas sat at the top with the ouiji board in front of him. "Hey guys? Aren't we supposed to hold hands or something for this part?"
Jeff and Carol looked at each other for a long moment and then turned to look at Thomas. Jeff shrugged. "Maybe. But it seems so Hollywood." Carol said light before adding, "Plus, all of us sitting on the pentagram points looks way cooler."
Thomas shifted nervously, "But why do I have to have it?"
This time Carol shrugged and Jeff answered.
"Dude? Seriously? Just get this over with and ask it a question."
Thomas huffed and placed his hand on the planchette. Fine, he decided, guess I'm going first. Inwardly grinning, he started moving the planchette from letter to letter. C-a-n-I-l-e-a-v-e-? Out of the corner of his eye, he saw lightening fill the sky. Thinking it would be funny Thomas surged to his feet and bellowed in his deepest voice, "This is what I ask of you!" As the power cut out, the 'you' echoed into the darkness. A moment of silence passed.
A candle flickered to light. Glowing red eyes met bewildered blue. Screaming and howling simultaneously caused the room to fall into darkness once more. Thomas screwed his eyes shut and braced himself for the claws he did not see but knew must exist to tear into him. When they didn't immediately, he opened one eye to the darkness. The room was a shocked stillness. Mentally shaking himself, he took a deep breath and asked, "Where am I and why am I here?". A whimper sounded to his left but was immediately muffled. Silence reined for several more seconds until Thomas put forth, "Well?"
"We are sorry! We didn't know!"
Thomas' eyes were adjusting and he turned toward the mass of darkness that spoke. "I didn't ask for an apology, I asked for an explanation."
"Guys. He can see me. He turned towards me. What do I do?" She was panicking.
"Stop shaking, if it can see you then it can see your weakness."
"It can't hurt you- we drew that barrier right? It shouldn't be able to cross"
Thomas allowed the back and forth to go on for sometime before he decided to interject, "Would you mind now answering my questions?" He took a step forward to the edge of the supposed barrier. Partly to frighten the speaker but also partly to see if the barrier was real. Before he could take another step, a voice to his right spoke quickly, "We summoned you, we didn't know it would work. And you are in the 5th level of hell." Thomas spun on his heel and strode toward the voice and crouched down as close to the barrier and the face of the new voice as possible. "Thank you. Now. Send. Me. Home." The whimpering started up again but Thomas felt no guilt reasoning he was just as scared as they were if not more since he was apparently caged into one space.
A scramble activity ensued. A table was righted. Hushed voices whispered so softly, Thomas couldn't make out the words. A board clanked onto the table. Thomas smiled, pleased something was being done. A scraping noise was heard and then he was spinning into the darkness. | It was a chilly, Monday morning when I was teleported out of my kitchen. I ended up in a room with four hellish creatures. They looked at me and I looked at them. We both screamed at the same time. They ran into the nearest bathroom to discuss what they should do. I sat outside the door, listening to their plans.
“We should send her back,” said demon #1.
“We should vivisect her and see how humans work,” said demon #2.
“Nah,” said demon #1, “We aren’t Japanese nor German in WWII.”
“We should not have played with that board,” whispered demon #3, “Master will whip us all again until we are near death.”
I ran behind the sofa as they came out. I didn’t know what to do but be frightened. Demons were notorious for tricking humans and wearing them like meatsuits when they go topside. I found a dagger next to me. Next thing I knew, all the demons were dead and I was covered in blood.
The master walked in to see what the matter was. I stood there and locked eyes with him. The master growled at me. Claws bared, he lunged at me. I dodged and slashed him.
“Please send me back,” I said, “I didn’t want to be here. I just wanted to finish my grilled cheese sandwich.”
“If you can beat me at chess, then I will let you go,” said the master. He summoned a chess board from thin air. The game began.
Move by move, we played. Until I finally managed to get him into checkmate. He howled that I cheated even though it was a fair match and really hard to cheat at chess.
Quicker than lightning, I was returned to my home. I returned to my skillet and finished my sandwich. After which I nailed a horseshoe above my front door, so no demon or demonic power could enter and whisk me away again.
| |
[WP] One second your in your house, the next you're standing in a living room surrounded by three demons. They drop their Ouija board and scream as they run to their bathroom and lock the door. "I told you we shouldn't have touched it!" | I had just filled up my cereal bowl and was about to enjoy a late breakfast when that familiar feeling came on me again. Dang-it, I already regretted that deal I had made with that thieving “Ouija the Fantabulous”.
At the time it had sounded like easy money – As a member of the Dimension Monitoring Security Division, “D-MonS” for short – traveling the inter-dimensional gateways was old hat. It was during an epic drinking bout last year that my “Friend” and drinking companion had come up with the idea of us popping into each others home dimensions and putting a scare on unsuspecting mundanes. We would do “Magic Shows” where we would pretend to summon a “Daemon”, and after a bit of theatrical fahlderol the “Summoned Daemon” would step back through the gateway and go back to their regular life while the Magician raked in the samollions from the unsuspecting marks. “Easy Money” he said. “What could go wrong?” he said. My big toe, I say.
With his red skin, horns and wings, he could easily pass as some sort Daemonic presence on Earth, especially if he dropped a flash bomb just before he appeared. Likewise I, a rather plain non-descript human on my own home dimension, would appear exotic and dangerous when I stepped out of the gateway on his world in a cloud of smoke with a dramatic gesture.
The only problem was while I had only used the Summoner Device on him a couple times (that one séance with my Aunt Gertruda was epic!) that jack-wipe had created his “Ouija Boards” which triggered the gateway whenever some thrill-seeking teenager played around with it , so I was constantly being summoned and having to do my “Scary Daemon” act in increasingly uncomfortable situations. Plus that thief had copyrighted the technology so he was pulling in royalties off of every copy of the damn board that he sold, while I was stuck with bupkiss – not a red cent!!!
When the smoke cleared, I had a brief glimpse of a trio of obviously under-aged creatures sitting around the damned board, who gave me one wide-eyed look before screaming in terror and running off and locking themselves into what I presume was a lavatory of some sort. OK, I admit the bath-robe was getting a bit shabby, and I was still suffering from a severe case of Bed Hair, but still it seemed like a little bit of an over-reaction. Pulling a card from my robe pocket I read off the required copyrighted script: “Behold the power of the Ouija! Who dares to disturb my slumber of 1000 years! You have dabbled in powers that are beyond your ken and understanding! Terrifying – blah-blah-blah, uh, yeah OOoooh Scary! Don’t disturb me again. Copyright Oujia Magic Supplies, the best Magic comes from Ouija!” And I stepped back into the cloud of mist and triggered the return cycle. Bet my damn cereal was going to be soggy.
(With apologies to Robert Lyn Aspirin)
| It was a chilly, Monday morning when I was teleported out of my kitchen. I ended up in a room with four hellish creatures. They looked at me and I looked at them. We both screamed at the same time. They ran into the nearest bathroom to discuss what they should do. I sat outside the door, listening to their plans.
“We should send her back,” said demon #1.
“We should vivisect her and see how humans work,” said demon #2.
“Nah,” said demon #1, “We aren’t Japanese nor German in WWII.”
“We should not have played with that board,” whispered demon #3, “Master will whip us all again until we are near death.”
I ran behind the sofa as they came out. I didn’t know what to do but be frightened. Demons were notorious for tricking humans and wearing them like meatsuits when they go topside. I found a dagger next to me. Next thing I knew, all the demons were dead and I was covered in blood.
The master walked in to see what the matter was. I stood there and locked eyes with him. The master growled at me. Claws bared, he lunged at me. I dodged and slashed him.
“Please send me back,” I said, “I didn’t want to be here. I just wanted to finish my grilled cheese sandwich.”
“If you can beat me at chess, then I will let you go,” said the master. He summoned a chess board from thin air. The game began.
Move by move, we played. Until I finally managed to get him into checkmate. He howled that I cheated even though it was a fair match and really hard to cheat at chess.
Quicker than lightning, I was returned to my home. I returned to my skillet and finished my sandwich. After which I nailed a horseshoe above my front door, so no demon or demonic power could enter and whisk me away again.
| |
[WP] One second your in your house, the next you're standing in a living room surrounded by three demons. They drop their Ouija board and scream as they run to their bathroom and lock the door. "I told you we shouldn't have touched it!" | "I told you, Urglesh!" yelled the Scourge of Ten Worlds, "I told you they were real!" His back was pinned against a baroque, iron door.
"Yeah well, I thought you were joking, humans are a myth! Everyone knows that, even little demonettes and imps. Shut up and grab that chair and block the door." The Scourge scrambled for a bone chair and wedged it between the eternal handle and the soulstone floor.
"Oh Lucifer, oh Lucifer help us!" squeaked the nameless horror from the corner of the room. He rocked back and forwards with his hands on his horns.
".....Urglesh, has it gone?"
".....I don't know. It's gone quiet."
"It's up to something! I heard they can teleport!"
*tap tap tap*
"Nyaaaaagh, it's at the door! Go away foul creature, leave us in suffering!"
"Human, foul beast, what do you want with us? Please, don't hurt us!"
"....okay it's just that I'd like to go home?"
"THEN GO!"
"Well... I'm not sure how?"
"....is this a trap?"
"No. I'd rather like to go, I don't know where I am and I don't think I like it. Why is everything screaming?"
"I.... well, they are the lost souls of the damned. I only got them last month," pouted the Scourge, "They're not cheap, you know."
"I see. They're.... yes. Quite. So, do you think I could go home?"
"Urglesh, can we send..... it.... home?"
"I don't know, maybe?"
"....oh good, thank you. I'll just wait out here, shall I?"
"Yes! Don't touch anything."
"Right, no, of course. I'll just have a sit down and let you chaps sort it out. I don't suppose you've got any tea? No, silly question." They heard shuffling and footsteps. None of them moved, lest it return.
Urglesh put one of his twelve eyes to the keyhole in the infernal door, checking if the coast was clear.
"Don't look!" shouted the scourge, "I heard they can turn you to stone with a glance!"
"I tell you, nameless horror, those things creep me out. Did you see its skin? It wasn't moving or bleeding, and it didn't even have horns..."
"And what in the nine heavens is 'tea'?"
| It was a chilly, Monday morning when I was teleported out of my kitchen. I ended up in a room with four hellish creatures. They looked at me and I looked at them. We both screamed at the same time. They ran into the nearest bathroom to discuss what they should do. I sat outside the door, listening to their plans.
“We should send her back,” said demon #1.
“We should vivisect her and see how humans work,” said demon #2.
“Nah,” said demon #1, “We aren’t Japanese nor German in WWII.”
“We should not have played with that board,” whispered demon #3, “Master will whip us all again until we are near death.”
I ran behind the sofa as they came out. I didn’t know what to do but be frightened. Demons were notorious for tricking humans and wearing them like meatsuits when they go topside. I found a dagger next to me. Next thing I knew, all the demons were dead and I was covered in blood.
The master walked in to see what the matter was. I stood there and locked eyes with him. The master growled at me. Claws bared, he lunged at me. I dodged and slashed him.
“Please send me back,” I said, “I didn’t want to be here. I just wanted to finish my grilled cheese sandwich.”
“If you can beat me at chess, then I will let you go,” said the master. He summoned a chess board from thin air. The game began.
Move by move, we played. Until I finally managed to get him into checkmate. He howled that I cheated even though it was a fair match and really hard to cheat at chess.
Quicker than lightning, I was returned to my home. I returned to my skillet and finished my sandwich. After which I nailed a horseshoe above my front door, so no demon or demonic power could enter and whisk me away again.
| |
[WP] One second your in your house, the next you're standing in a living room surrounded by three demons. They drop their Ouija board and scream as they run to their bathroom and lock the door. "I told you we shouldn't have touched it!" | Demons live in the shadows. You aught to be cautious, yes, but there’s no need to be afraid. Demons live in the shadows or should I say beneath them, for the shadows are what keeps our worlds apart. You can say that the shadows keep us safe. For this we are surely lucky for without this wall, without this barrier, one world would surely perish beneath the wrath of the other.
How do I know this? Let me share with you my secret; I’ve have been to the other side.
This story begins like many others. I was in my kitchen. My bagel was plain but my cream cheese was thick and the lox was fresh. Life was good; my breakfast was testament to that. I raised my bagel in the air and gave my thanks saying, “God or Devil, he who breaths life into the dead and turns the cosmos on a needle and makes them spin, he who made my bagel he who also made my lox. I thank you for my bounty and for everything I’ve got.”.
My dog began to smile. It was a site that filled my soul with fear. He smiled like a human; it was as if he was a man. His eyes, they filled with fire. In those flames men burned alive. I could even hear them scream. I tried to stop him. I really did. But before I could he had begin to speak. From his eyes dripped tears, blood. He said, “amen let it be” and like that, in a flash, I was gone.
I was scared. Afraid. My adventure had just begun.
(to be continued if people like it) | Where was I? Just a flurry of red winged creatures, a dropped Ouija board? Everything was dark and close, smelled musty, old. This was not my living room.
Process that thought later. The things - no creatures - that had dropped the Ouija board were like the devils in mythical folklore. Only I wasn't drunk or high. I didn't think I was dreaming either.
These little red devils just saw me appear and ran shrieking into another room. I heard the door of that room lock.
Thing to do now was to pinch myself.
Ow, that hurt.
As far as I knew I was conscious, not asleep. Only a few moments ago I had been lying on my leather sofa, flipping channels in my cheaply furnished apartment. I remember I had been drinking from a glass of milk. I was certainly sober. What else did I remember?
Oh yeah, I remember shouting out, "Hell!" aloud when American Apprentice clicked on the screen. It was just an involuntary exclamation caused by seeing Trump on screen, but suddenly now I was clearly not in my apartment.
I was here in this dank, cold, bare room, which narrated nothing but black shadows, death and Gothic despair.
Unlike my carpeted living-room, the floor here was just bare wooden boards. A dismal light was provided by a dozen or more guttering candles. Furnishings were as bare as the floor: misshapen wooden chairs, a knotty table.
I picked up the Ouija board. It was heavy, made of a hardwood, perhaps mahogany, and extremely well-crafted. The letters were neatly painted in white and clearly the board had been well-used over the years.
Unlike many, I was a full believer in the paranormal. I had never tested a Ouija board before, simply because I was too afraid of summoning up something truly dreadful. I believed in ghosts though, also spirits, demons and Hell.
Clearly what had happened here was that somehow I had been summoned. The perpetrators of my summoning, demons of some kind, had uncharacteristically fled at my appearance.
My heart was beating fast. I could barely step forward, I was trembling so much. Gothic shaped windows, uncurtained, revealed the blackest of night skies. Where the hell was I?
Somehow I managed to gird myself, trepidantly approaching the locked wooden door past which the three demons had fled.
I hesitated, before knocking assertively. I figured these demons, by their actions, were far more afraid of me than I was of them. Besides I had to get out of this place somehow, otherwise I was doomed forever in this hellhole.
After knocking three times, I waited.
No response.
I knocked once again. “Hello.”
I tried the handle. The door of course was locked. I knew that already but had hoped the gesture might force the demons to do something. “Please unlock this door.”
“Go away,” I heard from inside. The voice sounded weirdly childish, certainly frightened.
Bolstered a little by this, I said: “Please, I won’t hurt you. I understand this has all been a mistake. You were playing with a Oiuja Board and somehow you ended up summoning me. I realize that you didn’t intend anything, but please I need to find a way to get back.”
Another voice, reedy, definitely child-like, could be heard. “We’re not scared of you.”
“I know,” I said, “I won’t hurt you. Please open the door.”
After a few moments, I heard the turn of the key in the lock. I grasped the ornate cast-iron handle and pushed. The door creaked like the combined cries of a thousand tormented souls as it slowly opened.
I held my breath. The room revealed was clearly a bathroom. Of sorts. Inside was a primitive wooden commode and a metal bath. A few of the usual candles provided a faltering light of sorts.
Three winged demons, blood red, with wings, cowered before me looking afraid despite my entreaties. The tallest was maybe just three feet tall. These were just mischievous children who had terrified themselves by playing with the occult. They had unwittingly unleashed powers they had no understanding of.
I almost started to feel a little sympathy for them. Holding my palms towards them in a conciliatory gesture, I said, “Please, don’t be scared. I’m not here to hurt you.”
Almost as one, they said, “It’s not you we’re scared of.”
I was confused momentarily, but then noticed they weren’t actually staring at me. Their fiercely green eyes were directing a stare above and behind me.
I suffered a sudden deep pang of terror. It wasn’t my fear I could smell, it was the malodorous stench from something behind me.
Slowly I turned round.
And there was Dad.
At least eight feet tall, vast wings raised, pointed tail flicking menacingly, a huge red demon stared down at me murderously. His eyes were like sulphurous slits.
Stock-still with terror, I could only watch as Dad opened his huge jaws to reveal a giant alligator’s array of deadly yellow fangs. I saw a venomous flick of a forked tongue.
Then a huge rush of flame spewed forth and I blacked out instantly.
| |
[WP] One second your in your house, the next you're standing in a living room surrounded by three demons. They drop their Ouija board and scream as they run to their bathroom and lock the door. "I told you we shouldn't have touched it!" | They had waited all week for the storm to hit and now that it was here it was time. Carol and Jeff on the bottom two points of the pentagram. Thomas sat at the top with the ouiji board in front of him. "Hey guys? Aren't we supposed to hold hands or something for this part?"
Jeff and Carol looked at each other for a long moment and then turned to look at Thomas. Jeff shrugged. "Maybe. But it seems so Hollywood." Carol said light before adding, "Plus, all of us sitting on the pentagram points looks way cooler."
Thomas shifted nervously, "But why do I have to have it?"
This time Carol shrugged and Jeff answered.
"Dude? Seriously? Just get this over with and ask it a question."
Thomas huffed and placed his hand on the planchette. Fine, he decided, guess I'm going first. Inwardly grinning, he started moving the planchette from letter to letter. C-a-n-I-l-e-a-v-e-? Out of the corner of his eye, he saw lightening fill the sky. Thinking it would be funny Thomas surged to his feet and bellowed in his deepest voice, "This is what I ask of you!" As the power cut out, the 'you' echoed into the darkness. A moment of silence passed.
A candle flickered to light. Glowing red eyes met bewildered blue. Screaming and howling simultaneously caused the room to fall into darkness once more. Thomas screwed his eyes shut and braced himself for the claws he did not see but knew must exist to tear into him. When they didn't immediately, he opened one eye to the darkness. The room was a shocked stillness. Mentally shaking himself, he took a deep breath and asked, "Where am I and why am I here?". A whimper sounded to his left but was immediately muffled. Silence reined for several more seconds until Thomas put forth, "Well?"
"We are sorry! We didn't know!"
Thomas' eyes were adjusting and he turned toward the mass of darkness that spoke. "I didn't ask for an apology, I asked for an explanation."
"Guys. He can see me. He turned towards me. What do I do?" She was panicking.
"Stop shaking, if it can see you then it can see your weakness."
"It can't hurt you- we drew that barrier right? It shouldn't be able to cross"
Thomas allowed the back and forth to go on for sometime before he decided to interject, "Would you mind now answering my questions?" He took a step forward to the edge of the supposed barrier. Partly to frighten the speaker but also partly to see if the barrier was real. Before he could take another step, a voice to his right spoke quickly, "We summoned you, we didn't know it would work. And you are in the 5th level of hell." Thomas spun on his heel and strode toward the voice and crouched down as close to the barrier and the face of the new voice as possible. "Thank you. Now. Send. Me. Home." The whimpering started up again but Thomas felt no guilt reasoning he was just as scared as they were if not more since he was apparently caged into one space.
A scramble activity ensued. A table was righted. Hushed voices whispered so softly, Thomas couldn't make out the words. A board clanked onto the table. Thomas smiled, pleased something was being done. A scraping noise was heard and then he was spinning into the darkness. | Where was I? Just a flurry of red winged creatures, a dropped Ouija board? Everything was dark and close, smelled musty, old. This was not my living room.
Process that thought later. The things - no creatures - that had dropped the Ouija board were like the devils in mythical folklore. Only I wasn't drunk or high. I didn't think I was dreaming either.
These little red devils just saw me appear and ran shrieking into another room. I heard the door of that room lock.
Thing to do now was to pinch myself.
Ow, that hurt.
As far as I knew I was conscious, not asleep. Only a few moments ago I had been lying on my leather sofa, flipping channels in my cheaply furnished apartment. I remember I had been drinking from a glass of milk. I was certainly sober. What else did I remember?
Oh yeah, I remember shouting out, "Hell!" aloud when American Apprentice clicked on the screen. It was just an involuntary exclamation caused by seeing Trump on screen, but suddenly now I was clearly not in my apartment.
I was here in this dank, cold, bare room, which narrated nothing but black shadows, death and Gothic despair.
Unlike my carpeted living-room, the floor here was just bare wooden boards. A dismal light was provided by a dozen or more guttering candles. Furnishings were as bare as the floor: misshapen wooden chairs, a knotty table.
I picked up the Ouija board. It was heavy, made of a hardwood, perhaps mahogany, and extremely well-crafted. The letters were neatly painted in white and clearly the board had been well-used over the years.
Unlike many, I was a full believer in the paranormal. I had never tested a Ouija board before, simply because I was too afraid of summoning up something truly dreadful. I believed in ghosts though, also spirits, demons and Hell.
Clearly what had happened here was that somehow I had been summoned. The perpetrators of my summoning, demons of some kind, had uncharacteristically fled at my appearance.
My heart was beating fast. I could barely step forward, I was trembling so much. Gothic shaped windows, uncurtained, revealed the blackest of night skies. Where the hell was I?
Somehow I managed to gird myself, trepidantly approaching the locked wooden door past which the three demons had fled.
I hesitated, before knocking assertively. I figured these demons, by their actions, were far more afraid of me than I was of them. Besides I had to get out of this place somehow, otherwise I was doomed forever in this hellhole.
After knocking three times, I waited.
No response.
I knocked once again. “Hello.”
I tried the handle. The door of course was locked. I knew that already but had hoped the gesture might force the demons to do something. “Please unlock this door.”
“Go away,” I heard from inside. The voice sounded weirdly childish, certainly frightened.
Bolstered a little by this, I said: “Please, I won’t hurt you. I understand this has all been a mistake. You were playing with a Oiuja Board and somehow you ended up summoning me. I realize that you didn’t intend anything, but please I need to find a way to get back.”
Another voice, reedy, definitely child-like, could be heard. “We’re not scared of you.”
“I know,” I said, “I won’t hurt you. Please open the door.”
After a few moments, I heard the turn of the key in the lock. I grasped the ornate cast-iron handle and pushed. The door creaked like the combined cries of a thousand tormented souls as it slowly opened.
I held my breath. The room revealed was clearly a bathroom. Of sorts. Inside was a primitive wooden commode and a metal bath. A few of the usual candles provided a faltering light of sorts.
Three winged demons, blood red, with wings, cowered before me looking afraid despite my entreaties. The tallest was maybe just three feet tall. These were just mischievous children who had terrified themselves by playing with the occult. They had unwittingly unleashed powers they had no understanding of.
I almost started to feel a little sympathy for them. Holding my palms towards them in a conciliatory gesture, I said, “Please, don’t be scared. I’m not here to hurt you.”
Almost as one, they said, “It’s not you we’re scared of.”
I was confused momentarily, but then noticed they weren’t actually staring at me. Their fiercely green eyes were directing a stare above and behind me.
I suffered a sudden deep pang of terror. It wasn’t my fear I could smell, it was the malodorous stench from something behind me.
Slowly I turned round.
And there was Dad.
At least eight feet tall, vast wings raised, pointed tail flicking menacingly, a huge red demon stared down at me murderously. His eyes were like sulphurous slits.
Stock-still with terror, I could only watch as Dad opened his huge jaws to reveal a giant alligator’s array of deadly yellow fangs. I saw a venomous flick of a forked tongue.
Then a huge rush of flame spewed forth and I blacked out instantly.
| |
[WP] One second your in your house, the next you're standing in a living room surrounded by three demons. They drop their Ouija board and scream as they run to their bathroom and lock the door. "I told you we shouldn't have touched it!" | I had just filled up my cereal bowl and was about to enjoy a late breakfast when that familiar feeling came on me again. Dang-it, I already regretted that deal I had made with that thieving “Ouija the Fantabulous”.
At the time it had sounded like easy money – As a member of the Dimension Monitoring Security Division, “D-MonS” for short – traveling the inter-dimensional gateways was old hat. It was during an epic drinking bout last year that my “Friend” and drinking companion had come up with the idea of us popping into each others home dimensions and putting a scare on unsuspecting mundanes. We would do “Magic Shows” where we would pretend to summon a “Daemon”, and after a bit of theatrical fahlderol the “Summoned Daemon” would step back through the gateway and go back to their regular life while the Magician raked in the samollions from the unsuspecting marks. “Easy Money” he said. “What could go wrong?” he said. My big toe, I say.
With his red skin, horns and wings, he could easily pass as some sort Daemonic presence on Earth, especially if he dropped a flash bomb just before he appeared. Likewise I, a rather plain non-descript human on my own home dimension, would appear exotic and dangerous when I stepped out of the gateway on his world in a cloud of smoke with a dramatic gesture.
The only problem was while I had only used the Summoner Device on him a couple times (that one séance with my Aunt Gertruda was epic!) that jack-wipe had created his “Ouija Boards” which triggered the gateway whenever some thrill-seeking teenager played around with it , so I was constantly being summoned and having to do my “Scary Daemon” act in increasingly uncomfortable situations. Plus that thief had copyrighted the technology so he was pulling in royalties off of every copy of the damn board that he sold, while I was stuck with bupkiss – not a red cent!!!
When the smoke cleared, I had a brief glimpse of a trio of obviously under-aged creatures sitting around the damned board, who gave me one wide-eyed look before screaming in terror and running off and locking themselves into what I presume was a lavatory of some sort. OK, I admit the bath-robe was getting a bit shabby, and I was still suffering from a severe case of Bed Hair, but still it seemed like a little bit of an over-reaction. Pulling a card from my robe pocket I read off the required copyrighted script: “Behold the power of the Ouija! Who dares to disturb my slumber of 1000 years! You have dabbled in powers that are beyond your ken and understanding! Terrifying – blah-blah-blah, uh, yeah OOoooh Scary! Don’t disturb me again. Copyright Oujia Magic Supplies, the best Magic comes from Ouija!” And I stepped back into the cloud of mist and triggered the return cycle. Bet my damn cereal was going to be soggy.
(With apologies to Robert Lyn Aspirin)
| Where was I? Just a flurry of red winged creatures, a dropped Ouija board? Everything was dark and close, smelled musty, old. This was not my living room.
Process that thought later. The things - no creatures - that had dropped the Ouija board were like the devils in mythical folklore. Only I wasn't drunk or high. I didn't think I was dreaming either.
These little red devils just saw me appear and ran shrieking into another room. I heard the door of that room lock.
Thing to do now was to pinch myself.
Ow, that hurt.
As far as I knew I was conscious, not asleep. Only a few moments ago I had been lying on my leather sofa, flipping channels in my cheaply furnished apartment. I remember I had been drinking from a glass of milk. I was certainly sober. What else did I remember?
Oh yeah, I remember shouting out, "Hell!" aloud when American Apprentice clicked on the screen. It was just an involuntary exclamation caused by seeing Trump on screen, but suddenly now I was clearly not in my apartment.
I was here in this dank, cold, bare room, which narrated nothing but black shadows, death and Gothic despair.
Unlike my carpeted living-room, the floor here was just bare wooden boards. A dismal light was provided by a dozen or more guttering candles. Furnishings were as bare as the floor: misshapen wooden chairs, a knotty table.
I picked up the Ouija board. It was heavy, made of a hardwood, perhaps mahogany, and extremely well-crafted. The letters were neatly painted in white and clearly the board had been well-used over the years.
Unlike many, I was a full believer in the paranormal. I had never tested a Ouija board before, simply because I was too afraid of summoning up something truly dreadful. I believed in ghosts though, also spirits, demons and Hell.
Clearly what had happened here was that somehow I had been summoned. The perpetrators of my summoning, demons of some kind, had uncharacteristically fled at my appearance.
My heart was beating fast. I could barely step forward, I was trembling so much. Gothic shaped windows, uncurtained, revealed the blackest of night skies. Where the hell was I?
Somehow I managed to gird myself, trepidantly approaching the locked wooden door past which the three demons had fled.
I hesitated, before knocking assertively. I figured these demons, by their actions, were far more afraid of me than I was of them. Besides I had to get out of this place somehow, otherwise I was doomed forever in this hellhole.
After knocking three times, I waited.
No response.
I knocked once again. “Hello.”
I tried the handle. The door of course was locked. I knew that already but had hoped the gesture might force the demons to do something. “Please unlock this door.”
“Go away,” I heard from inside. The voice sounded weirdly childish, certainly frightened.
Bolstered a little by this, I said: “Please, I won’t hurt you. I understand this has all been a mistake. You were playing with a Oiuja Board and somehow you ended up summoning me. I realize that you didn’t intend anything, but please I need to find a way to get back.”
Another voice, reedy, definitely child-like, could be heard. “We’re not scared of you.”
“I know,” I said, “I won’t hurt you. Please open the door.”
After a few moments, I heard the turn of the key in the lock. I grasped the ornate cast-iron handle and pushed. The door creaked like the combined cries of a thousand tormented souls as it slowly opened.
I held my breath. The room revealed was clearly a bathroom. Of sorts. Inside was a primitive wooden commode and a metal bath. A few of the usual candles provided a faltering light of sorts.
Three winged demons, blood red, with wings, cowered before me looking afraid despite my entreaties. The tallest was maybe just three feet tall. These were just mischievous children who had terrified themselves by playing with the occult. They had unwittingly unleashed powers they had no understanding of.
I almost started to feel a little sympathy for them. Holding my palms towards them in a conciliatory gesture, I said, “Please, don’t be scared. I’m not here to hurt you.”
Almost as one, they said, “It’s not you we’re scared of.”
I was confused momentarily, but then noticed they weren’t actually staring at me. Their fiercely green eyes were directing a stare above and behind me.
I suffered a sudden deep pang of terror. It wasn’t my fear I could smell, it was the malodorous stench from something behind me.
Slowly I turned round.
And there was Dad.
At least eight feet tall, vast wings raised, pointed tail flicking menacingly, a huge red demon stared down at me murderously. His eyes were like sulphurous slits.
Stock-still with terror, I could only watch as Dad opened his huge jaws to reveal a giant alligator’s array of deadly yellow fangs. I saw a venomous flick of a forked tongue.
Then a huge rush of flame spewed forth and I blacked out instantly.
| |
[WP] One second your in your house, the next you're standing in a living room surrounded by three demons. They drop their Ouija board and scream as they run to their bathroom and lock the door. "I told you we shouldn't have touched it!" | "I told you, Urglesh!" yelled the Scourge of Ten Worlds, "I told you they were real!" His back was pinned against a baroque, iron door.
"Yeah well, I thought you were joking, humans are a myth! Everyone knows that, even little demonettes and imps. Shut up and grab that chair and block the door." The Scourge scrambled for a bone chair and wedged it between the eternal handle and the soulstone floor.
"Oh Lucifer, oh Lucifer help us!" squeaked the nameless horror from the corner of the room. He rocked back and forwards with his hands on his horns.
".....Urglesh, has it gone?"
".....I don't know. It's gone quiet."
"It's up to something! I heard they can teleport!"
*tap tap tap*
"Nyaaaaagh, it's at the door! Go away foul creature, leave us in suffering!"
"Human, foul beast, what do you want with us? Please, don't hurt us!"
"....okay it's just that I'd like to go home?"
"THEN GO!"
"Well... I'm not sure how?"
"....is this a trap?"
"No. I'd rather like to go, I don't know where I am and I don't think I like it. Why is everything screaming?"
"I.... well, they are the lost souls of the damned. I only got them last month," pouted the Scourge, "They're not cheap, you know."
"I see. They're.... yes. Quite. So, do you think I could go home?"
"Urglesh, can we send..... it.... home?"
"I don't know, maybe?"
"....oh good, thank you. I'll just wait out here, shall I?"
"Yes! Don't touch anything."
"Right, no, of course. I'll just have a sit down and let you chaps sort it out. I don't suppose you've got any tea? No, silly question." They heard shuffling and footsteps. None of them moved, lest it return.
Urglesh put one of his twelve eyes to the keyhole in the infernal door, checking if the coast was clear.
"Don't look!" shouted the scourge, "I heard they can turn you to stone with a glance!"
"I tell you, nameless horror, those things creep me out. Did you see its skin? It wasn't moving or bleeding, and it didn't even have horns..."
"And what in the nine heavens is 'tea'?"
| Where was I? Just a flurry of red winged creatures, a dropped Ouija board? Everything was dark and close, smelled musty, old. This was not my living room.
Process that thought later. The things - no creatures - that had dropped the Ouija board were like the devils in mythical folklore. Only I wasn't drunk or high. I didn't think I was dreaming either.
These little red devils just saw me appear and ran shrieking into another room. I heard the door of that room lock.
Thing to do now was to pinch myself.
Ow, that hurt.
As far as I knew I was conscious, not asleep. Only a few moments ago I had been lying on my leather sofa, flipping channels in my cheaply furnished apartment. I remember I had been drinking from a glass of milk. I was certainly sober. What else did I remember?
Oh yeah, I remember shouting out, "Hell!" aloud when American Apprentice clicked on the screen. It was just an involuntary exclamation caused by seeing Trump on screen, but suddenly now I was clearly not in my apartment.
I was here in this dank, cold, bare room, which narrated nothing but black shadows, death and Gothic despair.
Unlike my carpeted living-room, the floor here was just bare wooden boards. A dismal light was provided by a dozen or more guttering candles. Furnishings were as bare as the floor: misshapen wooden chairs, a knotty table.
I picked up the Ouija board. It was heavy, made of a hardwood, perhaps mahogany, and extremely well-crafted. The letters were neatly painted in white and clearly the board had been well-used over the years.
Unlike many, I was a full believer in the paranormal. I had never tested a Ouija board before, simply because I was too afraid of summoning up something truly dreadful. I believed in ghosts though, also spirits, demons and Hell.
Clearly what had happened here was that somehow I had been summoned. The perpetrators of my summoning, demons of some kind, had uncharacteristically fled at my appearance.
My heart was beating fast. I could barely step forward, I was trembling so much. Gothic shaped windows, uncurtained, revealed the blackest of night skies. Where the hell was I?
Somehow I managed to gird myself, trepidantly approaching the locked wooden door past which the three demons had fled.
I hesitated, before knocking assertively. I figured these demons, by their actions, were far more afraid of me than I was of them. Besides I had to get out of this place somehow, otherwise I was doomed forever in this hellhole.
After knocking three times, I waited.
No response.
I knocked once again. “Hello.”
I tried the handle. The door of course was locked. I knew that already but had hoped the gesture might force the demons to do something. “Please unlock this door.”
“Go away,” I heard from inside. The voice sounded weirdly childish, certainly frightened.
Bolstered a little by this, I said: “Please, I won’t hurt you. I understand this has all been a mistake. You were playing with a Oiuja Board and somehow you ended up summoning me. I realize that you didn’t intend anything, but please I need to find a way to get back.”
Another voice, reedy, definitely child-like, could be heard. “We’re not scared of you.”
“I know,” I said, “I won’t hurt you. Please open the door.”
After a few moments, I heard the turn of the key in the lock. I grasped the ornate cast-iron handle and pushed. The door creaked like the combined cries of a thousand tormented souls as it slowly opened.
I held my breath. The room revealed was clearly a bathroom. Of sorts. Inside was a primitive wooden commode and a metal bath. A few of the usual candles provided a faltering light of sorts.
Three winged demons, blood red, with wings, cowered before me looking afraid despite my entreaties. The tallest was maybe just three feet tall. These were just mischievous children who had terrified themselves by playing with the occult. They had unwittingly unleashed powers they had no understanding of.
I almost started to feel a little sympathy for them. Holding my palms towards them in a conciliatory gesture, I said, “Please, don’t be scared. I’m not here to hurt you.”
Almost as one, they said, “It’s not you we’re scared of.”
I was confused momentarily, but then noticed they weren’t actually staring at me. Their fiercely green eyes were directing a stare above and behind me.
I suffered a sudden deep pang of terror. It wasn’t my fear I could smell, it was the malodorous stench from something behind me.
Slowly I turned round.
And there was Dad.
At least eight feet tall, vast wings raised, pointed tail flicking menacingly, a huge red demon stared down at me murderously. His eyes were like sulphurous slits.
Stock-still with terror, I could only watch as Dad opened his huge jaws to reveal a giant alligator’s array of deadly yellow fangs. I saw a venomous flick of a forked tongue.
Then a huge rush of flame spewed forth and I blacked out instantly.
| |
[WP] One second your in your house, the next you're standing in a living room surrounded by three demons. They drop their Ouija board and scream as they run to their bathroom and lock the door. "I told you we shouldn't have touched it!" | Demons live in the shadows. You aught to be cautious, yes, but there’s no need to be afraid. Demons live in the shadows or should I say beneath them, for the shadows are what keeps our worlds apart. You can say that the shadows keep us safe. For this we are surely lucky for without this wall, without this barrier, one world would surely perish beneath the wrath of the other.
How do I know this? Let me share with you my secret; I’ve have been to the other side.
This story begins like many others. I was in my kitchen. My bagel was plain but my cream cheese was thick and the lox was fresh. Life was good; my breakfast was testament to that. I raised my bagel in the air and gave my thanks saying, “God or Devil, he who breaths life into the dead and turns the cosmos on a needle and makes them spin, he who made my bagel he who also made my lox. I thank you for my bounty and for everything I’ve got.”.
My dog began to smile. It was a site that filled my soul with fear. He smiled like a human; it was as if he was a man. His eyes, they filled with fire. In those flames men burned alive. I could even hear them scream. I tried to stop him. I really did. But before I could he had begin to speak. From his eyes dripped tears, blood. He said, “amen let it be” and like that, in a flash, I was gone.
I was scared. Afraid. My adventure had just begun.
(to be continued if people like it) | What had these fools wrought upon themselves once again? I had a name once, but there was only one thing I was known as now. I could see ears on the walls, listening, waiting for me to make my move. The denizens of this hellish dimension whimpered awaiting their impending death.
"Eat lead!" I cried. I fired up my machine gun and begun the rampage of carnage once again. The smart ones fled in terror but a few fools tried to fight. It was useless. Their fate was inevitable. Doomguy was back. | |
[WP] One second your in your house, the next you're standing in a living room surrounded by three demons. They drop their Ouija board and scream as they run to their bathroom and lock the door. "I told you we shouldn't have touched it!" | They had waited all week for the storm to hit and now that it was here it was time. Carol and Jeff on the bottom two points of the pentagram. Thomas sat at the top with the ouiji board in front of him. "Hey guys? Aren't we supposed to hold hands or something for this part?"
Jeff and Carol looked at each other for a long moment and then turned to look at Thomas. Jeff shrugged. "Maybe. But it seems so Hollywood." Carol said light before adding, "Plus, all of us sitting on the pentagram points looks way cooler."
Thomas shifted nervously, "But why do I have to have it?"
This time Carol shrugged and Jeff answered.
"Dude? Seriously? Just get this over with and ask it a question."
Thomas huffed and placed his hand on the planchette. Fine, he decided, guess I'm going first. Inwardly grinning, he started moving the planchette from letter to letter. C-a-n-I-l-e-a-v-e-? Out of the corner of his eye, he saw lightening fill the sky. Thinking it would be funny Thomas surged to his feet and bellowed in his deepest voice, "This is what I ask of you!" As the power cut out, the 'you' echoed into the darkness. A moment of silence passed.
A candle flickered to light. Glowing red eyes met bewildered blue. Screaming and howling simultaneously caused the room to fall into darkness once more. Thomas screwed his eyes shut and braced himself for the claws he did not see but knew must exist to tear into him. When they didn't immediately, he opened one eye to the darkness. The room was a shocked stillness. Mentally shaking himself, he took a deep breath and asked, "Where am I and why am I here?". A whimper sounded to his left but was immediately muffled. Silence reined for several more seconds until Thomas put forth, "Well?"
"We are sorry! We didn't know!"
Thomas' eyes were adjusting and he turned toward the mass of darkness that spoke. "I didn't ask for an apology, I asked for an explanation."
"Guys. He can see me. He turned towards me. What do I do?" She was panicking.
"Stop shaking, if it can see you then it can see your weakness."
"It can't hurt you- we drew that barrier right? It shouldn't be able to cross"
Thomas allowed the back and forth to go on for sometime before he decided to interject, "Would you mind now answering my questions?" He took a step forward to the edge of the supposed barrier. Partly to frighten the speaker but also partly to see if the barrier was real. Before he could take another step, a voice to his right spoke quickly, "We summoned you, we didn't know it would work. And you are in the 5th level of hell." Thomas spun on his heel and strode toward the voice and crouched down as close to the barrier and the face of the new voice as possible. "Thank you. Now. Send. Me. Home." The whimpering started up again but Thomas felt no guilt reasoning he was just as scared as they were if not more since he was apparently caged into one space.
A scramble activity ensued. A table was righted. Hushed voices whispered so softly, Thomas couldn't make out the words. A board clanked onto the table. Thomas smiled, pleased something was being done. A scraping noise was heard and then he was spinning into the darkness. | What had these fools wrought upon themselves once again? I had a name once, but there was only one thing I was known as now. I could see ears on the walls, listening, waiting for me to make my move. The denizens of this hellish dimension whimpered awaiting their impending death.
"Eat lead!" I cried. I fired up my machine gun and begun the rampage of carnage once again. The smart ones fled in terror but a few fools tried to fight. It was useless. Their fate was inevitable. Doomguy was back. | |
[WP] One second your in your house, the next you're standing in a living room surrounded by three demons. They drop their Ouija board and scream as they run to their bathroom and lock the door. "I told you we shouldn't have touched it!" | I had just filled up my cereal bowl and was about to enjoy a late breakfast when that familiar feeling came on me again. Dang-it, I already regretted that deal I had made with that thieving “Ouija the Fantabulous”.
At the time it had sounded like easy money – As a member of the Dimension Monitoring Security Division, “D-MonS” for short – traveling the inter-dimensional gateways was old hat. It was during an epic drinking bout last year that my “Friend” and drinking companion had come up with the idea of us popping into each others home dimensions and putting a scare on unsuspecting mundanes. We would do “Magic Shows” where we would pretend to summon a “Daemon”, and after a bit of theatrical fahlderol the “Summoned Daemon” would step back through the gateway and go back to their regular life while the Magician raked in the samollions from the unsuspecting marks. “Easy Money” he said. “What could go wrong?” he said. My big toe, I say.
With his red skin, horns and wings, he could easily pass as some sort Daemonic presence on Earth, especially if he dropped a flash bomb just before he appeared. Likewise I, a rather plain non-descript human on my own home dimension, would appear exotic and dangerous when I stepped out of the gateway on his world in a cloud of smoke with a dramatic gesture.
The only problem was while I had only used the Summoner Device on him a couple times (that one séance with my Aunt Gertruda was epic!) that jack-wipe had created his “Ouija Boards” which triggered the gateway whenever some thrill-seeking teenager played around with it , so I was constantly being summoned and having to do my “Scary Daemon” act in increasingly uncomfortable situations. Plus that thief had copyrighted the technology so he was pulling in royalties off of every copy of the damn board that he sold, while I was stuck with bupkiss – not a red cent!!!
When the smoke cleared, I had a brief glimpse of a trio of obviously under-aged creatures sitting around the damned board, who gave me one wide-eyed look before screaming in terror and running off and locking themselves into what I presume was a lavatory of some sort. OK, I admit the bath-robe was getting a bit shabby, and I was still suffering from a severe case of Bed Hair, but still it seemed like a little bit of an over-reaction. Pulling a card from my robe pocket I read off the required copyrighted script: “Behold the power of the Ouija! Who dares to disturb my slumber of 1000 years! You have dabbled in powers that are beyond your ken and understanding! Terrifying – blah-blah-blah, uh, yeah OOoooh Scary! Don’t disturb me again. Copyright Oujia Magic Supplies, the best Magic comes from Ouija!” And I stepped back into the cloud of mist and triggered the return cycle. Bet my damn cereal was going to be soggy.
(With apologies to Robert Lyn Aspirin)
| What had these fools wrought upon themselves once again? I had a name once, but there was only one thing I was known as now. I could see ears on the walls, listening, waiting for me to make my move. The denizens of this hellish dimension whimpered awaiting their impending death.
"Eat lead!" I cried. I fired up my machine gun and begun the rampage of carnage once again. The smart ones fled in terror but a few fools tried to fight. It was useless. Their fate was inevitable. Doomguy was back. |
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