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[WP] You woke up this morning with a superpower: anyone in close proximity to you must tell the truth. They can't lie or hold anything back. At first, random people just blurt out things you never wanted to know, but then it starts getting weird... | Tomas found himself kneeling in front of the altar in the darkened gloom of the town church, praying with a fervor he had never known. At this hour, there were no other parishioners around, just Tomas and a thousand flickering candles.
“Please, please take this away, whatever it is you gave me, please take it away…” Tomas urged under his breath, as his tears mixed with the perspiration rolling down his forehead.
He had spent most of the day adrift in a desert of confusion, and every sandy crest of comprehension he scaled only revealed even more boundlessness lying beyond. At the least though, he was sure that whatever was happening, only started this very morning, less than 9 hours ago.
Tomas’ mother had been the first. As the school bus rolled up, he had asked his mother, as always, what she was going to do that day. He expected the usual “Oh, just watch TV,” or perhaps “I’ll start my interviews again, hope to get something this time.”
Instead, he got the following response from her – “Report in that you still seem fine, and that Day 4,400 looks to be another normal one.”
It didn’t matter that he thought her reply strange, because she didn’t seem to hear what she was herself saying. She had merely answered him with the same candour as if he had asked what the time was, or what hue the sky took on today.
And it was the same with every other person he interacted with that day. From his homeroom teacher Mrs Trudy, who told him that he had to curb his after-school explorations of the town as the surveillance teams could barely keep up, to Mr Natters the school janitor, who cheerfully informed that the batteries in his locker cameras had just been replaced.
Even Ms Julies, the sweet-faced librarian most of the children had crushes on, told him that the Board, whoever they were, approved of the reading material he had been occupying himself with.
Tomas, held fast in a grip of fear, suddenly afraid of the answers to questions he had never asked, sought solace in the only place he knew.
“… so please, hallowed be thy name, please make this all a dream…”
“A dream? You’re asking for a dream? What is troubling you today?”
It was Father Bruce, the aging shepherd for this flock. He tottered along the aisle slowly, his gait uncertain.
“Father,” said Tomas, shrinking back, “are you affected too? Are you going to tell me anything that’s on your mind, whether or not you want to?”
“What? Are you on anything, young man? You know that I would have to repo-”
“Father! Do you know anything about me that you’ve always tried to keep hidden?” yelled Tomas, who had gradually refined the question over the course of a day to probe the extent of his new-found predicament. So far, it had a 100% success rate, eliciting increasingly unsettling responses from people he thought he knew.
“Why, there’s nothing about you that needs to be hidden! You’re Tomas Belroy, you live in the corner house on the corner of Hudson and Vileyers, your mother is your only family, and you’ve been coming regularly to my service!”
Tomas almost wept then, so strong was the relief which washed over him. Maybe, maybe it was the church, something about this holy land which put an end to the madness afflicting him, providing a modicum of sanctuary. Maybe in Father Bruce he could finally confide, work out a solution, dig his way out of whatever hole he had foun-
It seemed Father Bruce was not done.
“… and you are thought to be at least five, six years away from coming into your powers. Until then, as long as we all keep a close eye on you, make sure you’re taking in all the suppressants we’ve been dosing you with, you should never awaken your dormant potential. Why, that would be unfortunate indeed, for we would then have little choice but to put you down, permanently.”
Father Bruce smiled, the same warm, welcoming look he had, all those years Tomas had known him.
Tomas turned, and ran.
---
/r/rarelyfunny
---
[Part II](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/672y1m/wp_you_woke_up_this_morning_with_a_superpower/dgo7vxdis) up below in the comments, thanks everyone who encouraged me to write it! | *Jackson's Journal*
*30/5/2016*
These people yelling things is getting a little annoying. But I'm going to keep track of them anyway.
Things they said today:
*"When I was 12, I peed on my dog."*
*"I secretly really like drawing, even though I suck at it."*
*"When I get 1 million followers on Instagram, I plan on posting a picture of my food."*
*"Somebody once told me the world was gonna roll me, and that I 'ain't the sharpest tool in the shed.'"*
*"I haven't seen the Baker's daughter in a while."*
*"All these people blurting stuff out is really scaring me."*
*"Bruno Mars does, in fact, gay."*
*"I have this friend named Miles who's a really nice guy, but I think my wife is cheating on me with him."*
*"I need someone to help my sister, but I can't call 911 because I don't have a phone."*
*"I have a Minecraft account, but everyone thinks that Minecraft is a bad game, so I don't want them to know that."*
*"I'm a Mercy main."*
*"These cupcakes taste funny."*
*"I have a severe case of most of the mental disorders, and I'm only here so that I can talk about my book on a big stage thing."*
*"I think that I'm a bad writer but I wanted to give writing a shot anyways, so I'm going to my quiet thinking place."*
*"My friend told me yesterday that he liked the movie* Pixels, *and I thought he was joking."*
*"At my school, there was a bake sale and people thought that the cupcakes were delicious. But then the next day everyone except me and another kid called in sick."*
*"I always wanted to be an animator, but I tried it and realized that I couldn't draw."*
*"I wish I was a better singer."*
*"It makes me sad that PREQUEL isn't updating, but I hope it will happen soon."*
*"On Fourth Street, somebody threw up blood and passed out. Then some other people started doing the same, and now I'm scared."*
*"Whenever I hear the word 'Anchovies', my gag reflex acts up."*
*"I feel like I ate too much, even though I ate next to nothing today."*
*"All of these people are dead now, and I don't know why. I think it's a disease."*
*"God, I hate drinking. I'm never going to drink again. Can't even remember what I did last night. I think it had something to do with my medication that I can't find anymore."*
*"Does anybody want some cupcakes?"* | |
[WP] You woke up this morning with a superpower: anyone in close proximity to you must tell the truth. They can't lie or hold anything back. At first, random people just blurt out things you never wanted to know, but then it starts getting weird... | My mom handed me a plate of bacon and eggs and said, "You were an accident."
"Sorry what?" I set the plate on the table, pulled my seat out, but couldn't bring myself to sit down.
She prepared her morning coffee and kept talking. "God it feels good to say that. Every time I make you a meal or do your laundry, I can't help thinking about it."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"It was Christmas and your father and I were at his parents' place." She added milk and sugar. "Neither of us had any condoms but we were both so excited to be together in his childhood bedroom that we couldn't stop ourselves."
"Jesus, mom! Stop! I don't need to know this!"
She blew across the surface of her coffee. "But I need to say it." She sipped and hummed. "What a load off. I feel so limber now. Hey," she pointed at my breakfast, "eat up. You're like an anorexic skeleton."
*****
The bus pulled up to the corner of our street.
My friend Greg was telling me something about playing Dota last night, but I had no idea what he was saying. My mother and father had had sex in my father's childhood bed. They did not use a condom. That's where I came from.
"Jesus Christ," I said, and blinked about fifty times.
Greg had his hands in the air because he was sketching out an attack pattern, but he paused. "You alright?"
"Yeah whatever. Let's get on the bus."
As I passed by the driver, he said, "Sometimes I think about driving this bus off a cliff."
"Excuse me?" I said.
"You're all so young. I actually get goosebumps thinking about how awful it would be if you all died. That would be so great." He rested his hands on his belly, eased down in his seat, and smiled wistfully.
The thoughts in my brain were like a plugged toilet. I took my seat and waited for the driver to get the bus moving.
"Seriously, are you feeling alright, dude?" Greg said.
"I'm fine," I said. "No, I'm not. Things have been weird this morning. My mom told me I'm an accident, and the bus driver just told me he thinks about driving us all off a cliff."
Greg whistled. "That's fucked up. All of that. Why would they tell you that?"
"Fuck if I know. Today just seems to be the day that people tell me awkward stuff." I chuckled. "You got anything you've been dying to tell me?"
"Not really," he said. "Except maybe you should know that sometimes I think I'd be lonely if you weren't my friend. And I wouldn't know what to do at school." He rubbed his nose. "I appreciate you."
"I can't tell if you're playing along with the joke."
"Nah, man. No joke." Greg made serious eye contact with me and I frowned and pulled away.
Just then, the bus driver started singing softly to himself. We were driving along the side of a cliff.
*****
The day got stranger and stranger.
Emily Thomas, the girl whose locker is next to mine, turned to me out of the blue to tell me that a month ago her friends had made a list of the boys in our grade and decided I was the eleventh hottest, but that I shouldn't get any ideas because Emily was the seventh hottest girl.
Then our chemistry teacher, Ms. Pointrose, told the class that her breast cancer had metastasized and that she did not expect to survive beyond the next semester. She told us that that didn't matter all that much to her, because she'd long lost passion for her career and that she saw death as a sort of eternal leave of absence. She also told us that the smell of chalk made her hungry.
Random people all through the halls at school would pause their conversations to tell me what they thought of me. These went from comments as impersonal as "You're tall," to those as deep as "You don't know how to start conversations because the way you see yourself is different from the way others see you."
But at the end of the day came the weirdest revelation of them all.
*****
*way way way late, more story has arrived. find it below.* | *Jackson's Journal*
*30/5/2016*
These people yelling things is getting a little annoying. But I'm going to keep track of them anyway.
Things they said today:
*"When I was 12, I peed on my dog."*
*"I secretly really like drawing, even though I suck at it."*
*"When I get 1 million followers on Instagram, I plan on posting a picture of my food."*
*"Somebody once told me the world was gonna roll me, and that I 'ain't the sharpest tool in the shed.'"*
*"I haven't seen the Baker's daughter in a while."*
*"All these people blurting stuff out is really scaring me."*
*"Bruno Mars does, in fact, gay."*
*"I have this friend named Miles who's a really nice guy, but I think my wife is cheating on me with him."*
*"I need someone to help my sister, but I can't call 911 because I don't have a phone."*
*"I have a Minecraft account, but everyone thinks that Minecraft is a bad game, so I don't want them to know that."*
*"I'm a Mercy main."*
*"These cupcakes taste funny."*
*"I have a severe case of most of the mental disorders, and I'm only here so that I can talk about my book on a big stage thing."*
*"I think that I'm a bad writer but I wanted to give writing a shot anyways, so I'm going to my quiet thinking place."*
*"My friend told me yesterday that he liked the movie* Pixels, *and I thought he was joking."*
*"At my school, there was a bake sale and people thought that the cupcakes were delicious. But then the next day everyone except me and another kid called in sick."*
*"I always wanted to be an animator, but I tried it and realized that I couldn't draw."*
*"I wish I was a better singer."*
*"It makes me sad that PREQUEL isn't updating, but I hope it will happen soon."*
*"On Fourth Street, somebody threw up blood and passed out. Then some other people started doing the same, and now I'm scared."*
*"Whenever I hear the word 'Anchovies', my gag reflex acts up."*
*"I feel like I ate too much, even though I ate next to nothing today."*
*"All of these people are dead now, and I don't know why. I think it's a disease."*
*"God, I hate drinking. I'm never going to drink again. Can't even remember what I did last night. I think it had something to do with my medication that I can't find anymore."*
*"Does anybody want some cupcakes?"* | |
[WP] You are a zombie struggling to survive in a world ravaged by a human apocalypse. | January 23, 2473
I can hear them coming, and I don’t think I have much time left.
If you find this and you’re Original, please dispose of my body properly. It’s been a while since I’ve risen, but if you keep my parts close together I think I can manage.
I am scared of these New Ones, though — they’ve been doing terrible things to us, from what I hear. Burning, separating parts, making it impossible to rise. Where did they learn such hate! And where did they come from?! Four hundred years of peace and prosperity with seven billion Originals reduced to less than a hundred thousand.
The experiments… those horrible, misguided experiments. A thousand curses on the name of that wretched being who first sought to bring life from death, to resow the tainted seeds of civilization long since perfected. Life is wasted on the living. Four hundred years of perfect harmony virtually eliminated. “You won’t drain my brain” is their rallying cry, as if we hadn’t figured out how to sustain ourselves almost immediately after the last human perished.
Sorry, this is no time for frustration. The New Ones are coming. They can smell me, and I can smell them. They’ve multiplied far beyond what the perimeter defenses can repel. We’ve tried biological, chemical, physical—but they heal… oh, how they heal!
We were the same, once, or so the scientists said. But these New Ones are different. These "humans" know a hate unlike any I’ve ever known. They hate death.
And they’re close. | I'm so hungry..
Fuck I have to eat something why are there so many lines for everything. I have heard there's a local store where a couple of fleshlings have nested at.
I'm so hungry...
Maybe today I'll head for that nesting ground I have heard there are line ups there as well and many of people have died, maybe it'll shorten the lineups.
Fuck I need to eat...
On the way to the flesh farm. I'm already drooling thinking about the first meal in what seems like forever. I can't wait.
I'm here...Ready to eat.
This is it, tonight I make my move on the farm, the other guys say there have been to many killed, that it's impossible to get a meal in. They don't know me, I've been through worse I think. Tomorrow I'm going for it.
.... | |
[WP] A story with no point. Just the ramblings of someone committed to a mental institution. | Once upon a time there was a princess.
That princess was beautiful. Hair dark as the night sky, lips as red as blood. She laughed, and fought for what was right.
One day, she was told she needed to fight for her kingdom. So she did.
A bird tweeted......that was a pretty bird, with yellow feathers and blue feathers and green feathers and....red...
Red
Red
Red
Blood. Blood was red? The princess thought it was. She saw red when she fought. Fighting isn't nice, only against bad things, like the people who brought her the medicine and that was bad and she needed time time was good but wait would they come soon?
The bird tweeted again, a song flying through pitches high and low, intensity varying as the sound traveled to her. The princess remembered sounds. Booms, shots, bullets to her ears that made them hurt and bleed. The princess couldn't hear sometimes, and that made her scared. But it was ok, because she was giving good medicine, not like the bad medicine.......
The bird tweeted. It was a good somg, pretty and light, with, until a larger bird swooped in a swiped it with its claws.
There was a lot more red.
Red. Red was bad,
The princess saw a lot of bad things. Like red. The bird was like her friend. She had a friend. She was fighting one day, and a flying piece of danger stuck her friend. He fell, for some reason.
The princess saw a lot of red then. She held her friend in her arms, the red matching the color of her lips. His eyes glowed, but suddenly they didn't. A man told her to leave him. But he was her friend.
The princess didn't want to fight anymore. A bird cawed, the bird who killed the tweeety-bird. this caw-bird was bad.
The princess didn't want to fight anymore.
She would lay in bed, her pretty hair around her. She was sad. Sad was bad, they told her. They sent the princess home than. She was safe at home, they told her. The princess was content, but still sad. She would sit and read books, because she was smart while tweeety-birds sang around her. She cried sometimes, but the tweety-birds always made the princess chess happy.
The princess was sad one day. Walking in the kitchen, twiddling with her hair black as night. She sat, as bugs started streaming from the corners. The princess squinted her eyes, scared, as nasty bugs swarmed her. She opened her eyes, covered in tweeety-birds and caw/birds and bats, their feathers smothering her. She shut them, and she cried, crouching as she opened her eyes and the walls cried too.
The princess didn't like that. She cried again. And again. And again as she lived with bugs in her arms.
Some other people took her then. They said she was mad. Mad was bad, they said. The princess didn't like bad things. Like the caw-bird. Caw-birds were bad.
The princess lived there now. She sat down.
The bird tweeted.
The princess was sad. She missed her friend. She tried to picture his face, but it was hard. The details escaped her...
It was the bad people. They made her forget. They made her stupid. They were bad.
The princess looked around her sad room, her red lips biting, and she sat on her bed, looking out the window. The caw-bird...no, falcon was sitting there. Menacing, it ate at the songbird that was singing so sweetly to her before. It was like the battlefield.
The princess didn't like the battlefields.
The princess-no, I sat up. She-I, I mean, sat up. I looked up at the blank walls. I pictured him now. He was nice. I liked him. I remembered his smile. White.
Red stains white. I remembered the bombs, the bullets, the screech. The battlefields soaked in blood as a piece of shrapnel tore through my friends abdomen. I remember his face, it was nice. He was nice. I liked him.
I loved him.
I held him in my arms as the light in his eyes faded away. I held him as his blood soaked my uniform. I didn't want him to leave me. Me! He said he wouldn't leave me but he did because I was holding him and he died and now I'm here.....
I cried, a spiders began creeping down the walls. I cried harder, faces flashing before me. I squeezed my eyes shut, images of buildings collapsing and people dying racing through my mind.
I opened my eyes to wipe away the tears, and the spiders were closer. I curled up as the walls bled, too. Creatures creep up from the corners, the cracks, roaches insects wasps hornets....men. Birds falcons bats.......
They smothered me, attacking be with hits from their wings.
Each one spun and flew and clawed and cried and screamed at me, walking and running and biting me as I twisted and turned and cried out. Each thing in my sparse room was a weapon, hiding something red. I didn't like red. Red was like my friend, and my friend died. He was too red.
I curled up farther, my head by my knees. I was attacked, a storm raging in my room. I screamed, tears racing down my hot face as soldiers and medics filled the room. They raced around in formations and gunslinging groups, bugs of no affect. They were ghostly, real, helping others. My friend lay next to me. My eyes shut tighter, I shout amidst the chaos. "Help him! Help ME!"
I hear a whisper. "Princess", the man mutters, his smile fading as he lays bleeding by me.
I cry. Soldiers fade, and figures in white filled the room. The roaches and beetles cover me in a blanket of carapeices, and I stop struggling. I sigh, and turn to one, looking him in the eyes. Exhausted, I can't fight anymore. I don't want to.
"Make it stop" I whisper. The man smiles. And takes a needle from his vest. I don't care I just want it to stop to forget I don't want this anymore......
I scream from the bats against my face, but they hold my arm as the clear liquid is shot through my vein. They relax. I relax. I curled back up, and the hurricane starts to fade.......
The bugs crawl away. The whitecoats begin to leave. I was alone in my pretty white room with my pretty blacke hair.
Why was I upset? Was it the bad people? Bad people aren't good. The tweety bird was good. The princess liked the tweety-bird.
It was pretty. The princess liked pretty things. She was pretty, she had a pretty white gown and a nice white bed with a window. The princess loved windows. Her hair lay on her back and the new tweety-bird sat on the branch. "Hello", she cooed. It tweeted back.
She sat on the bed, content.
The bird tweeted. Tweety-birds were pretty. They had blue feathers and yellow feathers and green feathers and brown feathers and.....
Red.
(So I wrote this thing once. It didn't post. I tried again, and it deleted the last half. So this is attempt 3. Sometimes I hate internet connections. It was a bit different from the post, and was supposed to be more random at the beginning. It kinda...became what is above. Sorry, I just didn't want to waste what I wrote after it deleted because I am stubborn) | It's a nice day, isn't it? I suppose I wouldn't know. I suppose I don't know things really. I used to. Used to know things, that is. I wonder when that stopped, wonder when I stopped being a man who knows things. Was it when I killed him? Was it when I came to this institution? Perhaps I never knew things at all. Maybe I was born stupid, maybe the stupid came later. Maybe I'm not stupid at all though. It could be that I'm just crazy. That means I'm not though, doesn't it? A crazy man doesn't know that he is crazy but lives in ignorance. Therefore I am not crazy. I always said that, said I'm not crazy. Nobody believes me. Would you? I didn't kill him. They said I did. I didn't. They said I'd go to jail. I didn't do that either. I'm here instead, because I'm innocent. Or because I'm crazy. Haven't completely ruled that out, have they? It's no matter. I am lonely though.. he used to visit me. Used to. Even though I killed the other guy, he never hated me. He used to come. He was always sad though, he was always asking questions. At first they were hard to answer, but then they were easier and then they were easy and then he stopped asking and then he stopped coming and now I'm alone. Do you miss me? I missed him. Is the weather nice? I'm not a murderer. I don't think. The rockfall was an accident, I didn't cause it. Except maybe I didn't stop it. Or maybe I started it. I'm cold now, I think. Maybe I'll take a nap. Will you still talk to me when I wake up? Will you come back? I need to tell someone. I'll be waiting for you. Have a nice day. | |
[WP] A story with no point. Just the ramblings of someone committed to a mental institution. | It's been so long, I beg you please don’t go,
Where are you dear, don’t leave me here alone.
I saw you then, you walked so very slow.
When will i find someone to call my own?
I need you now, my mind I cannot hold,
Then men in white all lie and force me aid.
So sorry if you’re scared, I know it’s bold.
A love so strong that it will never fade.
And if you leave I know I’ll die away.
What else is left except to now aggrieve?
Don’t worry now I know your mind will sway,
I’ll hold her tight so she can never leave.
My mind has aged and with it I dilate,
The order of events no longer straight. | It's a nice day, isn't it? I suppose I wouldn't know. I suppose I don't know things really. I used to. Used to know things, that is. I wonder when that stopped, wonder when I stopped being a man who knows things. Was it when I killed him? Was it when I came to this institution? Perhaps I never knew things at all. Maybe I was born stupid, maybe the stupid came later. Maybe I'm not stupid at all though. It could be that I'm just crazy. That means I'm not though, doesn't it? A crazy man doesn't know that he is crazy but lives in ignorance. Therefore I am not crazy. I always said that, said I'm not crazy. Nobody believes me. Would you? I didn't kill him. They said I did. I didn't. They said I'd go to jail. I didn't do that either. I'm here instead, because I'm innocent. Or because I'm crazy. Haven't completely ruled that out, have they? It's no matter. I am lonely though.. he used to visit me. Used to. Even though I killed the other guy, he never hated me. He used to come. He was always sad though, he was always asking questions. At first they were hard to answer, but then they were easier and then they were easy and then he stopped asking and then he stopped coming and now I'm alone. Do you miss me? I missed him. Is the weather nice? I'm not a murderer. I don't think. The rockfall was an accident, I didn't cause it. Except maybe I didn't stop it. Or maybe I started it. I'm cold now, I think. Maybe I'll take a nap. Will you still talk to me when I wake up? Will you come back? I need to tell someone. I'll be waiting for you. Have a nice day. | |
[WP] A story with no point. Just the ramblings of someone committed to a mental institution. | Once upon a time there was a princess.
That princess was beautiful. Hair dark as the night sky, lips as red as blood. She laughed, and fought for what was right.
One day, she was told she needed to fight for her kingdom. So she did.
A bird tweeted......that was a pretty bird, with yellow feathers and blue feathers and green feathers and....red...
Red
Red
Red
Blood. Blood was red? The princess thought it was. She saw red when she fought. Fighting isn't nice, only against bad things, like the people who brought her the medicine and that was bad and she needed time time was good but wait would they come soon?
The bird tweeted again, a song flying through pitches high and low, intensity varying as the sound traveled to her. The princess remembered sounds. Booms, shots, bullets to her ears that made them hurt and bleed. The princess couldn't hear sometimes, and that made her scared. But it was ok, because she was giving good medicine, not like the bad medicine.......
The bird tweeted. It was a good somg, pretty and light, with, until a larger bird swooped in a swiped it with its claws.
There was a lot more red.
Red. Red was bad,
The princess saw a lot of bad things. Like red. The bird was like her friend. She had a friend. She was fighting one day, and a flying piece of danger stuck her friend. He fell, for some reason.
The princess saw a lot of red then. She held her friend in her arms, the red matching the color of her lips. His eyes glowed, but suddenly they didn't. A man told her to leave him. But he was her friend.
The princess didn't want to fight anymore. A bird cawed, the bird who killed the tweeety-bird. this caw-bird was bad.
The princess didn't want to fight anymore.
She would lay in bed, her pretty hair around her. She was sad. Sad was bad, they told her. They sent the princess home than. She was safe at home, they told her. The princess was content, but still sad. She would sit and read books, because she was smart while tweeety-birds sang around her. She cried sometimes, but the tweety-birds always made the princess chess happy.
The princess was sad one day. Walking in the kitchen, twiddling with her hair black as night. She sat, as bugs started streaming from the corners. The princess squinted her eyes, scared, as nasty bugs swarmed her. She opened her eyes, covered in tweeety-birds and caw/birds and bats, their feathers smothering her. She shut them, and she cried, crouching as she opened her eyes and the walls cried too.
The princess didn't like that. She cried again. And again. And again as she lived with bugs in her arms.
Some other people took her then. They said she was mad. Mad was bad, they said. The princess didn't like bad things. Like the caw-bird. Caw-birds were bad.
The princess lived there now. She sat down.
The bird tweeted.
The princess was sad. She missed her friend. She tried to picture his face, but it was hard. The details escaped her...
It was the bad people. They made her forget. They made her stupid. They were bad.
The princess looked around her sad room, her red lips biting, and she sat on her bed, looking out the window. The caw-bird...no, falcon was sitting there. Menacing, it ate at the songbird that was singing so sweetly to her before. It was like the battlefield.
The princess didn't like the battlefields.
The princess-no, I sat up. She-I, I mean, sat up. I looked up at the blank walls. I pictured him now. He was nice. I liked him. I remembered his smile. White.
Red stains white. I remembered the bombs, the bullets, the screech. The battlefields soaked in blood as a piece of shrapnel tore through my friends abdomen. I remember his face, it was nice. He was nice. I liked him.
I loved him.
I held him in my arms as the light in his eyes faded away. I held him as his blood soaked my uniform. I didn't want him to leave me. Me! He said he wouldn't leave me but he did because I was holding him and he died and now I'm here.....
I cried, a spiders began creeping down the walls. I cried harder, faces flashing before me. I squeezed my eyes shut, images of buildings collapsing and people dying racing through my mind.
I opened my eyes to wipe away the tears, and the spiders were closer. I curled up as the walls bled, too. Creatures creep up from the corners, the cracks, roaches insects wasps hornets....men. Birds falcons bats.......
They smothered me, attacking be with hits from their wings.
Each one spun and flew and clawed and cried and screamed at me, walking and running and biting me as I twisted and turned and cried out. Each thing in my sparse room was a weapon, hiding something red. I didn't like red. Red was like my friend, and my friend died. He was too red.
I curled up farther, my head by my knees. I was attacked, a storm raging in my room. I screamed, tears racing down my hot face as soldiers and medics filled the room. They raced around in formations and gunslinging groups, bugs of no affect. They were ghostly, real, helping others. My friend lay next to me. My eyes shut tighter, I shout amidst the chaos. "Help him! Help ME!"
I hear a whisper. "Princess", the man mutters, his smile fading as he lays bleeding by me.
I cry. Soldiers fade, and figures in white filled the room. The roaches and beetles cover me in a blanket of carapeices, and I stop struggling. I sigh, and turn to one, looking him in the eyes. Exhausted, I can't fight anymore. I don't want to.
"Make it stop" I whisper. The man smiles. And takes a needle from his vest. I don't care I just want it to stop to forget I don't want this anymore......
I scream from the bats against my face, but they hold my arm as the clear liquid is shot through my vein. They relax. I relax. I curled back up, and the hurricane starts to fade.......
The bugs crawl away. The whitecoats begin to leave. I was alone in my pretty white room with my pretty blacke hair.
Why was I upset? Was it the bad people? Bad people aren't good. The tweety bird was good. The princess liked the tweety-bird.
It was pretty. The princess liked pretty things. She was pretty, she had a pretty white gown and a nice white bed with a window. The princess loved windows. Her hair lay on her back and the new tweety-bird sat on the branch. "Hello", she cooed. It tweeted back.
She sat on the bed, content.
The bird tweeted. Tweety-birds were pretty. They had blue feathers and yellow feathers and green feathers and brown feathers and.....
Red.
(So I wrote this thing once. It didn't post. I tried again, and it deleted the last half. So this is attempt 3. Sometimes I hate internet connections. It was a bit different from the post, and was supposed to be more random at the beginning. It kinda...became what is above. Sorry, I just didn't want to waste what I wrote after it deleted because I am stubborn) | Every day, the same. An unescapeble monotone throughout life. Wake up, dress, work, drive, sleep. Until 3 days ago. I woke up to a phone, apparently mine, ringing. I answer, hearing only static. 30 seconds later, it hangs up. I dress, and decide to eat a bagel instead of cereal. I drink coffee, like usual. Work was... interesting. Everyone stared, my poster seemed, darker. I thought my skirt was stained, My flats dirty. I looked, they were pristine, I don't know. I left work and went to a friends house, since I didn't see them much. I drove home and slept. I saw a shadow at my blinds. I woke up to ringing, louder. I answered. The static, louder, louder, louder. Something else, too, whimpering. Work was worse. They smiled, the poster was almost demonic. I nearly hit someone. I went home, took narcotics, and last saw a figure peeking through my open blinds. I wake up. More ringing. I answered, shaking, shaking. The static was replaced with childlike screams. I heard screeches, everything felt.... vivid. I dressed, and walked to work. Everyone looked, empty. Their mouths gaunt, pupils so small they weren't there. A lot of calls were made. I drove home, my car looked different. I slept, last seeing a child knocking on my window. I wake up, to knocks. My door opens, and I see empty people, empty, soulless beings. They knew. I knew. I heard screams, from some guttaral animal. The last sight I beheld was my child, being brought inside from her leash. I sleep. I wake to a barren white room, no windows, a phone with white noise. I answer, hearing muffled screams and tears. I slam the phone down, running, running from the white ones. I fall, and I stay down. They know about my daughter. I sleep. | |
[WP] A story with no point. Just the ramblings of someone committed to a mental institution. | It's been so long, I beg you please don’t go,
Where are you dear, don’t leave me here alone.
I saw you then, you walked so very slow.
When will i find someone to call my own?
I need you now, my mind I cannot hold,
Then men in white all lie and force me aid.
So sorry if you’re scared, I know it’s bold.
A love so strong that it will never fade.
And if you leave I know I’ll die away.
What else is left except to now aggrieve?
Don’t worry now I know your mind will sway,
I’ll hold her tight so she can never leave.
My mind has aged and with it I dilate,
The order of events no longer straight. | Every day, the same. An unescapeble monotone throughout life. Wake up, dress, work, drive, sleep. Until 3 days ago. I woke up to a phone, apparently mine, ringing. I answer, hearing only static. 30 seconds later, it hangs up. I dress, and decide to eat a bagel instead of cereal. I drink coffee, like usual. Work was... interesting. Everyone stared, my poster seemed, darker. I thought my skirt was stained, My flats dirty. I looked, they were pristine, I don't know. I left work and went to a friends house, since I didn't see them much. I drove home and slept. I saw a shadow at my blinds. I woke up to ringing, louder. I answered. The static, louder, louder, louder. Something else, too, whimpering. Work was worse. They smiled, the poster was almost demonic. I nearly hit someone. I went home, took narcotics, and last saw a figure peeking through my open blinds. I wake up. More ringing. I answered, shaking, shaking. The static was replaced with childlike screams. I heard screeches, everything felt.... vivid. I dressed, and walked to work. Everyone looked, empty. Their mouths gaunt, pupils so small they weren't there. A lot of calls were made. I drove home, my car looked different. I slept, last seeing a child knocking on my window. I wake up, to knocks. My door opens, and I see empty people, empty, soulless beings. They knew. I knew. I heard screams, from some guttaral animal. The last sight I beheld was my child, being brought inside from her leash. I sleep. I wake to a barren white room, no windows, a phone with white noise. I answer, hearing muffled screams and tears. I slam the phone down, running, running from the white ones. I fall, and I stay down. They know about my daughter. I sleep. | |
[WP] She stood before you, wreathed in crackling flames. Blushing, she asked hesitantly "Will you go to the Prom with me?" | "Er..." Kayla said.
The fire woman or whatever she was buried her face in her hands. "Oh, I just *knew* you would refuse! No human wants to be with a demon! I- I'm sorry, I'll just-!"
"Wait!" Kayla had no idea why she said that. Surely she *wanted* the crazy demon lady to leave! Still, the demon was now looking at her expectantly. It would be rude to dismiss her.
"I... um, well, that's a very nice offer, Miss...?"
The demon blushed. "My full name is impossible for mortals to pronounce, but you can call me Nalin."
"Um... okay. Miss Nalin, it's really nice of you to ask, but..."
Nalin's lips quivered. "It's okay, I understand."
"No! I just... I graduated high school 5 years ago. I can't go to prom."
"...Oh." Nalin looked at her feet. Her flames seemed to die down a little.
Kayla actually felt bad for her. Yeah, she was a demon of some sort, but she seemed nice enough. Wasn't her fault she didn't know prom was a high school thing.
"Hey, it's okay. What with you being a... er..."
"Fire demon," Nalin supplied helpfully.
"..fire demon, you probably just don't understand humans that much." Kayla smiled. "It isn't your fault. I appreciate the offer though. No one asked me to prom when I *was* in high school, so it's nice to get asked now, even if it is a bit late."
Nalin perked up. "Oh! You're most welcome!" She shifted a bit and played with a strand of her dark red hair.
"So, uh..." Kayla wracked her mind, trying to think of a way to break this sudden awkward silence. "How do you even know me?"
Nalin looked embarrassed. "Oh. I- I was supposed to p-posses you a year ago."
"...wat."
The fire demon bit her lip. "Well... we demons have a certain number of victims we must posses every few decades, or we'll be thrown out of Hell. I... do not care much for tormenting mortals and this- this was my last chance. But I-" she blushed again. "But as I followed you, looking for the best time to posses you, I came to admire you. You're so pretty and kind and considerate!"
Now it was Kayla's turn to blush. "T-thanks."
"I couldn't bring myself to hurt you," Nalin continued. "I know I can't return home because of this, but I have found that I quite like you. I know humans 'date' those they like, and I thought prom was a good start."
Kayla tilted her head. "You're going to throw away your chance to go back home?"
Nalin nodded. "I have always wanted to live among humans anyway. I think I'd fit in more with them."
"Well," Kayla said, "first you might want to get rid of the flames. Also, humans don't have bright red eyes. Or scarlet skin."
"Oh!" Nalin concentrated for a moment and-
Kayla stared. Before her stood a stunningly pretty human woman, with long red hair and brilliant green eyes. Her pale skin was flawless.
"Is this right?" Nalin asked.
Kayla could only nod, her mouth dry.
Nalin beamed. "Wonderful! I can't wait to start my new life!" She smiled shyly at Kayla.
Kayla blushed again. "Er... you- you need a place to say. You can stay here and I'll help you learn to act human."
Nalin's eyes widened. "Really?!" She laughed and clapped. "Thank you!" She suddenly frowned. "Oh. But won't I make you uncomfortable? I did just confess to having almost possessed you."
"Eh, you didn't, and that's what matters." Kayla waved her hand dismissively. "You seem pretty nice, so I don't mind you staying here. It's a small trailer, but there's enough room for two people. And you don't have to worry about paying rent, you can just help clean and run errands."
Nalin beamed. "Thank you!" She glanced at the floor, at Kayla, and back to the floor, suddenly shy. "I- I still do very much like you."
Kayla blinked. "Oh, well that's flattering, but we hardly know each other."
Nalin nodded. "I understand."
"But," Kayla continued, "we can start with being friends."
Nalin smiled. "I would like that." | I stood dumbfounded in awe. First, I was asked to prom. Second, a person was on fire in front of me and didn't appear to be bothered at all. I had accepted that I wouldn't be going, as bitter as it was.
I was finally able to say "I would...like too..."
"Excellent! I'll see you at 6:00 on prom night.", said the mysterious figure.
"Wait! I'm not finished!" I blurted out.
"Oh, how rude of me! I forgot to tell you my name. My name is Ember, a flame nymph"
"A flame nymph?" I said very confusedly.
"Yes. You made an offering to the fire, and I responded. Sorry, it took a while. I was really nervous. Anyway, I have to go I'll see you then." Ember said with glee. She brushed my cheek before extinguishing herself.
When did I make an offering to a fire? Did I just hallucinate? It can be I felt a warm soft lingering feeling on my cheek, and my eyebrows were singed off. What just happened?
| |
[WP] 10 hours ago you were just a normal person trying to buy a cup of coffee. Now you are the most wanted man/woman of your country. | I slapped the $5 bill down on the counter. The cashier gazed at me in disbelief, her mouth agape. Everyone else in the cafe had stopped what they were doing and stared.
"What?" I said, looking around.
"It was a joke, man," the cashier said. "Why would you order that?"
A news van screeched to a halt out front. The crew ran in, all gear in hand. I was bombarded with questions. The cashier was bawling her eyes out. Everyone in the cafe was yelling obscenities at me.
*What the hell?*
A few minutes later the cops arrived. Thank God. These morons had formed an impenetrable circle around me. I was stuck.
The officers broke through the crowd.
"This the guy?" He thumbs at me. The cashier nods, a tissue at her face.
"Alright asshole, turn around."
"What? Officer, what is going on?"
"Are you resisting? Hey John-O, this guy resisting?"
"Looks like it to me, Bob."
I always wondered what a blow to the head with a billy club felt like. Hell, I didn't know the police still carried clubs. Seems archaic. If you were wondering, it hurt like hell. Last thing I remember before blacking out was the smell of bleach on the floor.
. . . . . .
I came to in a dimly lit room. The room was illuminated by a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. There was a stainless steel table in front of me. No windows. No sound. You would've thought a room like this only existed on TV or in movies.
*What is going on? Am I in a trope? Really?*
As my eyes adjusted, I noticed a woman sitting across the table from me. She was focused on a pad in her lap. She glanced at me above her reading glasses. She wore a look of distrust, even hatred.
"Jonathan Grant Meyers," there was spite in her voice.
"That's me," I said, trying to maintain a bit of humor over this clear mistake. "I think there's been a mistake."
"A mistake?"
I nodded.
"Please, sir, tell me all about this mistake."
*That seemed sarcastic.*
"Well, I was just minding my own business--"
"Minding your own business, sure."
Her eyes pierced my soul. She was mean.
"Yes, I was just buying a drink when--"
"Buying a drink, uh-huh," she made a note on her pad. "Go on."
I was beginning to get annoyed.
"Well, then the whole cafe started accosting me. It was like a mob."
"Accosted you?" She shot up from her chair and the thing flew back, crashing into the wall. "And what about that poor girl? Did you ever consider her feelings?"
The door slammed open and a couple officers came to pull her out as she continued shouting at me. They took her into the hall and disappeared.
"What in the hell is going on?"
"I'll tell you what's going on."
In struts what I can only guess is the hot shot, plays-by-his-own-rules, always-one-fast-move-from-being-suspended-from-the-force maverick detective, leather jacket in the middle of July and all. He cooly picks the chair up and sits in it, a smug look on his face. This must be a joke. Or a dream. Or am I on TV and didn't realize?
"So you're the guy, huh?"
"I'm the guy," I play along. I have nothing to lose at this point. I'm either asleep and safe, or really screwed.
"You know, we have a name for guys like you."
"Oh yeah? What's that?"
"You son of a bitch. You don't have any remorse, do you?"
"I have no idea why I'm here."
"You ever hear of contract law, Mr. Meyers?"
"I've heard of it. I have no idea what it has to do with my current situation."
"Oh, I'll tell you. Because you're current situation ain't looking too shiny."
He lights a cigarette. He offers me one. I refuse. This must be a joke. I've never met a walking cliche before now. So in a way, I'm grateful for whatever confusion has led to this.
"Jon--can I call you Jon? Jon, do you know what 'fine print' is?"
"Sure."
*Is he waiting for me to explain, or...*
"Well Jon, do you realize that there was fine print on the advertising for the drink you ordered?"
"Fine print? What? What was it, order this drink and get arrested?"
The detective laughs. He rubs his eyebrow with his thumb.
"Heh, no. That'd be a pretty great prank though, wouldn't it?"
He waits for my approval.
"Anyway, Jon, I came to two conclusions: number one, you knew about the fine print all along, and you just didn't care. Your callousness has caused pain and suffering to many others, and I will see that you are prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. Or number two, you didn't read the fine print, and are going about causing pain and suffering because of your stupidity, in which case I'm obligated under the president's "No Dummies" executive order to have you executed by firing squad. What do you think about that?"
I was speechless. What in the actual fuck is going on?
"I have no idea what you're talking about. I demand to speak to my lawyer. Right now."
"Lawyers are for wimps," he said, and slid a piece of paper across the table.
I read the note:
"The Starbucks Unicorn Frappuccino is a promotional gag. It should not actually be ordered. Each Starbucks Unicorn Frappuccino is blended with the blood of a baby unicorn, along with two shots of Starbucks espresso, sugar, and sparkles. As such, each Starbucks Unicorn Frappuccino requires the death of a baby unicorn. Our baristas are required by corporate procedure to fill any drink or food order or face reprimanding. Please do not order this drink under any circumstance. Do not subject our employees to the murder of a baby unicorn."
My jaw dropped.
"Is this--"
"Yeah, it's for real. Are you ready?"
I couldn't believe it. I nodded.
"I'm ready."
It seemed the entire prison followed us down the hall and out of the building. The press was outside waiting. They erupted with flashes and questions and "Mr. Meyers"'s as we filed past. I kept my head low. I was a monster.
We walked to a place under an old oak tree that looked out on a great expanse of hills. The hills crashed against the looming mountain range beyond, smokey blue in the distance. The sun was beginning to set over those mountains. The sky was simmering orange and red stream. I looked up a lone cloud riding across the sky.
*O, to be that cloud and be whisked away in the wind.*
The detective turned toward me and lowered his Ray Bans.
"Any last words?" He said cooly.
I lowered my head.
"I'm sorry," I said.
He turned me around and then walked off beyond the line of National Guardsmen who held their rifles at rest. I took one last look at the mountains and wished I could turn back time. I would do it over again. I wouldn't ask for the stupid Starbucks Unicorn Frappuccino. Such a dumb drink. What a stupid advertisement. Maybe I *am* ready to leave this world after all. At least I wouldn't have to suffer advertising--
The shot rang out. I missed the signal. My own execution. Botched that up too.
. . . . . .
"...sir? Sir? Hello? Just the Unicorn Frappuccino? Anything else?"
"Huh? Oh, no. Nothing. No thanks."
I ran out of the store. | A pop in the eyes flash and then everything was frozen black and white. No sound, no movement, no color. I turned and she was standing in a white sphere about a meter behind me. Thin AF, blond hair straggles framing her flat white face, big eyes wide, mouth open like she was trying to catch here breath.
"He's going to kill everyone. Everyone!" She half screamed it at me.
"What?" It felt like I was speaking in a dream.
"He's going to kill everyone. He breaks the planet in half. Everyone dies!"
"What?" It was all I could say.
"You are the only time line that works. We've tried the other possibles. You. Everything depends on you". Her eyes were like looking into the soul of fear. Intense. Like a black sun.
"Take this" she said handing me a small round ball. It was heavier than it looked and felt warm. It looked like glass and was about the size of one of those high bounce balls all kids play with at one point. It seemed like something was moving in it.
"Put it in your coffee and put the cup on the trashcan out side. Street side"
I stood with my mouth half open wondering WTF was happening. Am I having a psychotic break?
"Move! For fuck's sake do it now. We don't have any time left!
There was a sound like "zzst" and then another. "Run!" She screamed it but didn't seem to be looking at me. She turned to me with an unspoken plea and her body glowed and then dissolved. I heard a male voice yell "Don't lose the connection" and then the white sphere collapsed to a point like on the old TVs, blinked out, and the coffee joint sounds, smells, and people were just like they were before.
Same Lucky Bros coffee joint. Same 20 something behind the counter. Same cup in my hand.
"Can I get you anything else, sir?" I could see in her expression that I was weirding her out. The shuffling and muttering behind me informed me I should deal with my self somewhere "not in line".
"Uh, I'm good thank you. Hey, did you notice anything strange just now?"
The young woman looked at me and pulled back the sides of her face and furrowed her eyebrows suggesting I was the "strange thing". The woman behind me muttered "For fuck's sake freak".
I nodded, stepped out of line and walked to the door. Just as I had done every weekday for the past five years. Five years in this small town and nothing, NOTHING, had ever happened that vaguely suggested this morning. I came to the small manufacturing firm to help design and prototype neural links for remote control excavators. Mining. I work with mining tools for fuck's sake!
I stepped out on the sidewalk. It was packed back to the door, lined on either side with people hoping to get a glimpse of their newly elected to his second term president. SMACK! It hit me like a bat to the face what this was all about. He was taking a victory lap through the little towns that had secured his second win. A drive by wave from the car thing. They had all turned out to see him.
The trash can right outside the coffee shop was where it always had been. I'm sure it had been swept as part of the route inspection but the president was going to pass by in minutes. They wouldn't have time to anticipate anything.
I popped the lid and held the glass ball over the black brown liquid. Definitely something swirling inside. Liquid fate.
I dropped the ball into the cup and put the cup on the rim of the can street side. I continued on my walk to work. Just one block down, take a left, walk three blocks and the entrance to the old aircraft hangar where we made our machines waited as it had for the past five years.
I didn't hate or like the guy. I was in tech. Most of what the country experienced was remote from me. I had a job in an industry that always needed people with my skills. Play your little political games. I've got real work to do.
Still, breaking the planet in half and killing everyone was a problem. Guess I just wanted to keep being employed. And all the other stuff as well.
The pictures and video showed his black hover limo gliding down the street with the bullet/blast proof glass top reflecting the sun as he waved at people. Big smile. Dark suit. The iconic mane of yellow hair. Bigger than life. Something about the eyes though. Something.
When you looked at the video after you first see it you try to see an explosion. It's not like that. Not at all. One second the limo and the chase cars are there and then next a pulse wave of black and white static inflates from in front of the coffee house to about two stories tall and then in a blink limo, chase cars, 3 meters of street, a light pole are just gone. People in the videos are just standing on the sidewalks with puzzled expressions. The only thing to see is a black glass like glaze where the missing things were. If you listen you can hear a kind of hum in the videos. One second there, the next just black glass and confusion.
I know they'll be looking for me. Hell, there is a camera on nearly every street corner here. They'll trace the footage, see me place the cup and watch me walk around the corner. I probably have a few hours at most. Maybe not even that.
The moment people ran by the door I knew what happened. I grabbed my keys and hit the door while everyone else was still confused. I figure I can make it to the hills if I'm lucky. Very lucky.
Well, I guess that makes me the most wanted man in the country right now. Didn't see that coming when I stopped for coffee this morning. Nope. Not even a little.
Still, I'd probably do it again. I mean, well, I really like the Earth and people should be able to live their lives I guess. Seems like some asshole shouldn't be able to kill everyone just "because reason X". Also, I really like my job. Maybe I'll get lucky and disappear. Maybe.
Stranger things have happened. They sure have. | |
[WP]Out of hunger, you say aloud, "Man, I'd kill for a sandwich." A heavily scarred man suddenly hands you a sandwich, a picture, and an address. "3 days", he says before merging with the crowd. | It was the third day and I'd found it.
A cafe. One of those hole in the wall places.
I ducked under the striped awning, navigating my way past the two circles of patio outside.
It was dark inside, shadowed in a gentle sort of way. The tables inside were made of lacquered wood, strong and hearty, and had that gentle shine of being cleaned often and thoroughly. But they were also empty.
There was only a single other person in the cafe, cast in sharp relief by a shaft of light shining in from a single window high above. A man. His back towards me, standing behind the counter.
He turned slowly. First his head, then a shoulder, and soon enough the rest of his great frame. It was a steady movement, almost delicate in a way. He moved as if he carried the inertia of whole mountains.
When he was facing me well and true, I couldn't help but notice the cleaver poking out of his giant fist.
I also noticed he was my man from the picture.
"Eating?" he asked. The voice was as solid as the man.
"I uh--" I said, stepping forward a little. "*Funny story,*" my voice cracked.
He turned away, "Eat or go. Do not be bothering me."
I swallowed and slowly approached the counter. Why exactly I dunno. Curiousity has always been my defining trait. Besides it was probably just his sthick. Some gruff and tuff customer service.
I sat down in front of him and put money down on the counter.
"I'm hungry." I said.
He looked down at my money. Something like scorn flashed across his eyes.
"Eat first, then you pay."
"I--" but he had already turned away again. Chopping at what I now saw was a whole pig in front of him. I sat there in silence, wondering if I should be ordering or something. There was no menu so far as I could see.
He struck the pig once more and a spray of blood sprayed out and dotted the counter to the right of me. Right. No. This wasn't where I wanted to eat. I'd just ask for the information and leave.
"A man gave me your picture," I said quickly, trying to get it all out and over with. "A man in the middle of a crowd. I thought it was some kind of joke. He had scars all over, and he gave me your picture and address and told me I had three days or something."
He turned again, quickly this time, knocking over a couple of condiments on the counter in his haste.
I would be hard pressed to call him hospitable before, but now there was no trace of warmth in his voice. "You. He gave this to you, you said?"
He was still holding the cleaver. "Yes."
"What did you say to him that he would give this to you." He was still holding the cleaver. I tried to take a step back, but his other arm whipped out, quick as anything and gripped me firmly by the shoulder.
"It was nothing. Something stupid. Just a joke."
"What did you say to him. Give me the words."
"I said, uh," I swallowed again. "I said I'd kill for a sandwich."
"And?" he demanded "AND?"
"Then he gave me the sandwich, the address, and the picture."
"The sandwich, was it good? Was it **GOOD?**" His hand was downright clenching my shoulder. I braced both hands and shoved it off.
"Yes!" I said. "Yes goddamit it was good. In fact, it was great. It was the best goddamn sandwich I ever fucking had. And I've been craving it. Chasing down any lead I could find looking for that scarred fuck. Cause I need it now. I want it more than anything. Just for one, more, fucking bite."
I started crying then. I hadn't cried since I was a child. But I was crying now, in front of a huge burly man who might very well decide to kill me.
I felt myself jerked forward and found myself nestled with my cheek against his chest, nestled just below his armpit.
"Me too," he whispered down to me. "Me too."
He let me go, and I slumped down to the counter, still shell-shocked.
"We are brothers then," he declared, and tossed me something from below the counter. I caught it in my lap. An apron.
"So. Man who would kill for a sandwich," he grinned. "Let us begin. Let us match our master and together learn how to make another sandwich worth dying for."
I gaped up at him. Then slowly, I could feel the sides of my lips begin to tug, and I was grinning as wide and openly as my brother in front of me.
"I'll bite," I said. | I'd set the rendezvous for the subway; somewhere inconspicuous thanks to all the traffic it sees. Keeping my eye on the time for 12 train from Olympic Park I say the code phrase. "Man, I'd kill for a sandwhich!". As if out of the ether, the Contractor exits a group coming to their platform. He hands me the sandwich, which conseals the memory card holding all the target information.
"Three days." He says. His scarred face the result of being emulated on a botched job, now he's reduced to running the information between parties and brokering deals. As the Contractor leaves I open the sandwich and retrieve the card and put it into my phone, the target's picture pops up along with a brief description. The information was all confirmed and had been meticulously researched.
The 12 pulled to the platform and I pulled the card from my phone and snapped it before stepping on. I make the doors and sit before my mind replays all the details back to me. My own contract, hand delivered. It was policy to issue contracts to more than one party, I guess the Contractor wanted me to have a heads up. I have three days to plan now. | |
[WP] Everyone's personality is based off the colour of their soul. You hand your baby over to the nurse and she scans it... She looks at the screen and realises that its going to be difficult explaining this. | "Do you think you could scan her again, just to be sure? I mean this has never happened before has it? We have to be sure." I let my husband speak for the both of us as I lay in the hospital bed, exhausted from the intense labor that had lasted for well over a day- I could come off as cold and intimidating at times anyway. The nurse frowned apologetically and sighed; It was hard to say no to Scott, with his kind, friendly eyes, gentle smile, and soft, even voice. It was no surprise that a subtle and comforting white projection radiated from his body. My own obsidian projection had stayed the same color, but taken on a sort of shimmer that drew the attention of many after he told me he loved me for the first time. Again, the nurse waved a scanner over our beautiful baby girl's chest, and clicked away at the monitor, looking back and forth from the screen to the scanner. "It...it's still the same sir....I don't have any idea what this means for her, I'm not even sure if this has ever happened before" the nurse said, turning back to the screen nervously. I watched her study our child's results with dark, sunken eyes, her nail-bitten fingers shakily tapping away at the keyboard. A grayish projection glowed weakly from her chest. Scott picked up our sleeping baby and gingerly ran his thumb over her perfectly rosy cheeks. "Let's see if we can't give this sweetheart a proper name" he cooed as he carefully sat down on the bed next to me. The nurse went off somewhere into the next room mumbling something about a birth certificate, which left the two of us to ponder our baby's name in silence. We had decided weeks before our daughter was born that we would give her a symbolic Greek God or Goddess's name depending on whatever color her soul would project. If she had projected a white color, like her father, her name would be Harmonia, to compliment the goddess of harmony. If hers were black like mine, she would be Athena, a name that would suit her wise and dignified soul. My husband was secretly hoping we would get to name her Ares, for a red projection, to express her passion and boldness, but we knew that our daughter was more than likely to have a rare or strange color, as Scott and I had two of the rarest projection colors ourselves, and it was almost unheard of for people with projections that were complete opposites to get along, much less have children. People almost always formed bonds with others who had projection colors on the same spectrum. People with orange, red, and yellow projections would often be drawn to one another, just as those with blue and purple were likely to come together. Those that were on opposite sides of the spectrum that chose to have children, such as green and red, orange and blue, as well as and most commonly black and white, often gave life to sons and daughters with more unfavorable soul projections, such as brown, and grey. This knowledge allowed Scott and I to prepare ourselves for a less desired color, yet there was no way to anticipate what our daughter's soul projection would actually be. After exchanging just a few words, the nurse returned with a blank birth certificate in hand, and asked us if we had decided on a name. My husband and I shared a brief look and a smile before I was ready to speak. "Yes we have." I looked the nurse in the eyes, bursting with confidence in my newborn daughter as my husband placed the delicate infant in my arms. "Our daughter's name is Iris." | It felt like we waited for hours to get the results of our child. We were both from the primary spectrum; My wife Amber, a red, was strong and passionate. Me? I was a blue; cool-headed and collected. We always knew that we wanted a child but were worried that they might not come out a primary or even a secondary. Everyone knows that tertiary or quaternary children can still live good lives if their hue, shade and color were in a well aligned spectrum. No matter what though, we were gonna raise and love her. After a little while longer the nurse returned with a doctor; a sallow look on their faces.
"What's wrong?" Asked Amber, some shakiness in her voice when they hadn't returned with our child. "Where's my baby? Where is she? I want to hold her." I held her hand, trying to calm her down as the doctor spoke. "We have some...troubling news. It is not an easy thing to tell a new family this." The doctor knows whatever he tells us will not go by well. I watch the nurse begin to fidget slightly, like a bug just crawled down her back. "While we were scanning you child, her hue and shade began to dip dramatically. So much so that we cannot accurately read out her color." Amber's eyes widened as I felt her hand go limp. Neither of us could believe what we had heard. She began crying; softly at first but then into a deep, sorrowful wail. The doctor and nurse were silent. They had no control over what had happened but they both know we will never see our baby again.
Suddenly, a small explosion rocked the building. The doctor turned around to look out the door. A small group of guards was running towards the scanner room. The only thing I can think of is why us as I ran after them. Smoke begin to billow through the hallway as I shoved my way past the guards to see three people; masked and armed to the teeth, holding a swaddled bundle. They opened fire on the guards and myself. A bullet ripped into my shoulder as I crumbled against a wall. They finish and began walking over the bodies of the guards. I reach out for the bundle, trying to get my innocent girl from their hands. One of them grabbed my hand and crouched down to my face."I'm guessing this one was yours?" A man's voice; calm but filled with a sense of unwarranted gratitude. "We must thank you then. You've given us the greatest gift we could ever ask for." I can hear the smirk on his lips."We've been looking for someone like this for a long time and with her, this little game is over." He released my hand and began to walk away with only one more sentence." Queen to E1. Checkmate." | |
[WP] Everyone's personality is based off the colour of their soul. You hand your baby over to the nurse and she scans it... She looks at the screen and realises that its going to be difficult explaining this. | "Do you think you could scan her again, just to be sure? I mean this has never happened before has it? We have to be sure." I let my husband speak for the both of us as I lay in the hospital bed, exhausted from the intense labor that had lasted for well over a day- I could come off as cold and intimidating at times anyway. The nurse frowned apologetically and sighed; It was hard to say no to Scott, with his kind, friendly eyes, gentle smile, and soft, even voice. It was no surprise that a subtle and comforting white projection radiated from his body. My own obsidian projection had stayed the same color, but taken on a sort of shimmer that drew the attention of many after he told me he loved me for the first time. Again, the nurse waved a scanner over our beautiful baby girl's chest, and clicked away at the monitor, looking back and forth from the screen to the scanner. "It...it's still the same sir....I don't have any idea what this means for her, I'm not even sure if this has ever happened before" the nurse said, turning back to the screen nervously. I watched her study our child's results with dark, sunken eyes, her nail-bitten fingers shakily tapping away at the keyboard. A grayish projection glowed weakly from her chest. Scott picked up our sleeping baby and gingerly ran his thumb over her perfectly rosy cheeks. "Let's see if we can't give this sweetheart a proper name" he cooed as he carefully sat down on the bed next to me. The nurse went off somewhere into the next room mumbling something about a birth certificate, which left the two of us to ponder our baby's name in silence. We had decided weeks before our daughter was born that we would give her a symbolic Greek God or Goddess's name depending on whatever color her soul would project. If she had projected a white color, like her father, her name would be Harmonia, to compliment the goddess of harmony. If hers were black like mine, she would be Athena, a name that would suit her wise and dignified soul. My husband was secretly hoping we would get to name her Ares, for a red projection, to express her passion and boldness, but we knew that our daughter was more than likely to have a rare or strange color, as Scott and I had two of the rarest projection colors ourselves, and it was almost unheard of for people with projections that were complete opposites to get along, much less have children. People almost always formed bonds with others who had projection colors on the same spectrum. People with orange, red, and yellow projections would often be drawn to one another, just as those with blue and purple were likely to come together. Those that were on opposite sides of the spectrum that chose to have children, such as green and red, orange and blue, as well as and most commonly black and white, often gave life to sons and daughters with more unfavorable soul projections, such as brown, and grey. This knowledge allowed Scott and I to prepare ourselves for a less desired color, yet there was no way to anticipate what our daughter's soul projection would actually be. After exchanging just a few words, the nurse returned with a blank birth certificate in hand, and asked us if we had decided on a name. My husband and I shared a brief look and a smile before I was ready to speak. "Yes we have." I looked the nurse in the eyes, bursting with confidence in my newborn daughter as my husband placed the delicate infant in my arms. "Our daughter's name is Iris." | Caitlyn tightened her lips as she frowned at the screen and the text that scrolled along the bottom. After two years in obstetrics she'd finally begun to think she was safe.
She averted her eyes from the horrible words and carefully looked over her shoulder at the happy couple. The husband -- who was now a father as well -- was still talking softly with the new mother.
Caitlyn quickly, but carefully re-scanned the newborn infant, hoping vainly that the result would change.
Caitlyn flinched as the father spoke up. "Excuse me, nurse? We were wondering if the soul-scan had been completed."
Despite his having been an exemplary father-to-be during the birth, she wished for a moment that he'd die, immediately and in great pain. The mother wearily pushed herself up onto the pillows and attempted to smile. "Yes, we were wondering if he was going to be close to medium jungle like myself or more of a button blue like my husband."
Caitlyn closed her eyes. Years of suffering in elementary and high school pressed down upon her and she and struggled to keep herself from crying. She turned back to the screen. Maybe she'd read it wrong? A lack of sleep or contaminated meat at lunch caused her to hallucinate a false result?
No. The result hadn't changed. Even if she spent every night alone and the staff at the hospital considered her 'slow', Caitlyn had thought herself free. But she had no choice; the parents needed to be told and the child hadn't done anything wrong. She took a deep breath and began to read.
"C-c-cal Co-"
"C-cal Polypo-"
"C-cal Poly Popa-"
"C-c-ca-cal P-"
Caitlyn moved to one side and pointed at the screen. ["That."](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shades_of_green#Cal_Poly_Pomona_green) | |
[WP] Everyone's personality is based off the colour of their soul. You hand your baby over to the nurse and she scans it... She looks at the screen and realises that its going to be difficult explaining this. | The nurse blinked and stepped back.
“I’ll be right back, I just need to pop out for a moment.”
“Is anything wrong?” I asked.
“No…not as such, I just, uh, need a second opinion.”
The nurse stepped out of the door, shutting it firmly behind her. Her hurried footsteps disappeared up the metal walkway outside. I glanced down at the small figure laying peacefully on the scales before me. My daughter’s deep, still eyes locked on my face and I smoothed my crinkled brow into a smile, burying the stress below the surface.
“It’s okay darling, everything is going to be fine,” I said, “shhhhh…”
My leg twitched. The scanner was only a few steps away. I looked down at my daughter again, my hand glued to her chest, feeling the hummingbird heart whirring away beneath it. Stretching out my other hand, I reached. Too far.
I slowly lifted my palm, and shuffled to the left. My fingers grasped towards the back of the screen just as a small, sharp ding echoed from the door.
“Step back immediately, those results require the appropriate clearances,” the nurse rushed in, swinging the monitor’s screen back towards her desk,”you of all people should know that.” Her nose wrinkled up in distaste.
A second nurse followed behind her, scowling in my direction. I grinned. What are they going to do, arrest me? A small chuckle escaped my tight lips.
“Sorry, temptation and all that,” I said, “so, what’s the prognosis? Wait, wait, don’t tell me…natural born leader with a stubborn attitude.”
I heard the ugly twist in my voice and hated its contrast to the beauty of my new daughter’s calm face.
The nurse took a step back.
“You checked?!” Her voice shook, before becoming firm. “Guards! Take this man back immediately, see that his master initiates disciplinary actions.”
“What? No! I was just joking!”
The guards grabbed my wrists, pulling the shackles tight and causing the metal to rub cruelly across my already blistered arms. I ignored the pain as the truth slowly dawned.
“You mean it’s true? Oh my god…”
I ripped my arms from the guards grasp and lunged back towards my girl. My sweet girl. I kissed her on her forehead just as I felt the chain yanked back, pulling tight against my shoulder blades.
“Give ‘em hell, honey!” I shouted from the doorway, “You give ‘em hell!”
I closed my eyes as I was pulled from the room, but not before I saw the pure white of the monitor in the back. A grin split my face as I committed the details of my beautiful daughter to memory.
My daughter - a master personality born from a generation of slaves. It might be the last I’d see of her, but I knew it wouldn’t be the last I heard. | Caitlyn tightened her lips as she frowned at the screen and the text that scrolled along the bottom. After two years in obstetrics she'd finally begun to think she was safe.
She averted her eyes from the horrible words and carefully looked over her shoulder at the happy couple. The husband -- who was now a father as well -- was still talking softly with the new mother.
Caitlyn quickly, but carefully re-scanned the newborn infant, hoping vainly that the result would change.
Caitlyn flinched as the father spoke up. "Excuse me, nurse? We were wondering if the soul-scan had been completed."
Despite his having been an exemplary father-to-be during the birth, she wished for a moment that he'd die, immediately and in great pain. The mother wearily pushed herself up onto the pillows and attempted to smile. "Yes, we were wondering if he was going to be close to medium jungle like myself or more of a button blue like my husband."
Caitlyn closed her eyes. Years of suffering in elementary and high school pressed down upon her and she and struggled to keep herself from crying. She turned back to the screen. Maybe she'd read it wrong? A lack of sleep or contaminated meat at lunch caused her to hallucinate a false result?
No. The result hadn't changed. Even if she spent every night alone and the staff at the hospital considered her 'slow', Caitlyn had thought herself free. But she had no choice; the parents needed to be told and the child hadn't done anything wrong. She took a deep breath and began to read.
"C-c-cal Co-"
"C-cal Polypo-"
"C-cal Poly Popa-"
"C-c-ca-cal P-"
Caitlyn moved to one side and pointed at the screen. ["That."](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shades_of_green#Cal_Poly_Pomona_green) | |
[WP] Everyone's personality is based off the colour of their soul. You hand your baby over to the nurse and she scans it... She looks at the screen and realises that its going to be difficult explaining this. | The nurse blinked and stepped back.
“I’ll be right back, I just need to pop out for a moment.”
“Is anything wrong?” I asked.
“No…not as such, I just, uh, need a second opinion.”
The nurse stepped out of the door, shutting it firmly behind her. Her hurried footsteps disappeared up the metal walkway outside. I glanced down at the small figure laying peacefully on the scales before me. My daughter’s deep, still eyes locked on my face and I smoothed my crinkled brow into a smile, burying the stress below the surface.
“It’s okay darling, everything is going to be fine,” I said, “shhhhh…”
My leg twitched. The scanner was only a few steps away. I looked down at my daughter again, my hand glued to her chest, feeling the hummingbird heart whirring away beneath it. Stretching out my other hand, I reached. Too far.
I slowly lifted my palm, and shuffled to the left. My fingers grasped towards the back of the screen just as a small, sharp ding echoed from the door.
“Step back immediately, those results require the appropriate clearances,” the nurse rushed in, swinging the monitor’s screen back towards her desk,”you of all people should know that.” Her nose wrinkled up in distaste.
A second nurse followed behind her, scowling in my direction. I grinned. What are they going to do, arrest me? A small chuckle escaped my tight lips.
“Sorry, temptation and all that,” I said, “so, what’s the prognosis? Wait, wait, don’t tell me…natural born leader with a stubborn attitude.”
I heard the ugly twist in my voice and hated its contrast to the beauty of my new daughter’s calm face.
The nurse took a step back.
“You checked?!” Her voice shook, before becoming firm. “Guards! Take this man back immediately, see that his master initiates disciplinary actions.”
“What? No! I was just joking!”
The guards grabbed my wrists, pulling the shackles tight and causing the metal to rub cruelly across my already blistered arms. I ignored the pain as the truth slowly dawned.
“You mean it’s true? Oh my god…”
I ripped my arms from the guards grasp and lunged back towards my girl. My sweet girl. I kissed her on her forehead just as I felt the chain yanked back, pulling tight against my shoulder blades.
“Give ‘em hell, honey!” I shouted from the doorway, “You give ‘em hell!”
I closed my eyes as I was pulled from the room, but not before I saw the pure white of the monitor in the back. A grin split my face as I committed the details of my beautiful daughter to memory.
My daughter - a master personality born from a generation of slaves. It might be the last I’d see of her, but I knew it wouldn’t be the last I heard. |
The doctor took our new born baby to the next room to scan him to find out what color category he fell under to write on his birth certificate. I was watching her through the mirror, trying to get a peek of the results, when I saw she suddenly stop.
She leaned toward the screen, and re-scanned him.
She called in another doctor to confirm the results and they both stood there in complete shock.
As you can guess, I'm frantically looking through the mirror attempting to get some answers from the doctor to get a clue of what the problem was, when the doctor and nurse came out with our son, they had a worried, shocked, and excited look to them.
"Skylar, ahh we have a little situation here... As you know all babies are born with a certain singular color of soul, that is how we are able to tell what kind of personality children will have when they grow up." He hesitated
"Soo.. wh-" I start to say when interrupts me.
"There is no easy way to say this, and no way to explain it without further test. But you child is the first human to ever possess two different colors, meaning two different personality types."
"How is that possible? What does that mean, it's not going to hurt him is it?"
"No, well we entirely sure. Since he is the first, we will take blood samples and have to Monitor him regularly throughout his life to see what the effects are. But besides this one flaw or miracle, your baby boy is perfectly healthy, congratulations."
------------------------------------------
More to come? My first story, not that eventful or anything, but I thought I would give it a try!
Cheers!
| |
[WP] Everyone's personality is based off the colour of their soul. You hand your baby over to the nurse and she scans it... She looks at the screen and realises that its going to be difficult explaining this. | The nurse blinked and stepped back.
“I’ll be right back, I just need to pop out for a moment.”
“Is anything wrong?” I asked.
“No…not as such, I just, uh, need a second opinion.”
The nurse stepped out of the door, shutting it firmly behind her. Her hurried footsteps disappeared up the metal walkway outside. I glanced down at the small figure laying peacefully on the scales before me. My daughter’s deep, still eyes locked on my face and I smoothed my crinkled brow into a smile, burying the stress below the surface.
“It’s okay darling, everything is going to be fine,” I said, “shhhhh…”
My leg twitched. The scanner was only a few steps away. I looked down at my daughter again, my hand glued to her chest, feeling the hummingbird heart whirring away beneath it. Stretching out my other hand, I reached. Too far.
I slowly lifted my palm, and shuffled to the left. My fingers grasped towards the back of the screen just as a small, sharp ding echoed from the door.
“Step back immediately, those results require the appropriate clearances,” the nurse rushed in, swinging the monitor’s screen back towards her desk,”you of all people should know that.” Her nose wrinkled up in distaste.
A second nurse followed behind her, scowling in my direction. I grinned. What are they going to do, arrest me? A small chuckle escaped my tight lips.
“Sorry, temptation and all that,” I said, “so, what’s the prognosis? Wait, wait, don’t tell me…natural born leader with a stubborn attitude.”
I heard the ugly twist in my voice and hated its contrast to the beauty of my new daughter’s calm face.
The nurse took a step back.
“You checked?!” Her voice shook, before becoming firm. “Guards! Take this man back immediately, see that his master initiates disciplinary actions.”
“What? No! I was just joking!”
The guards grabbed my wrists, pulling the shackles tight and causing the metal to rub cruelly across my already blistered arms. I ignored the pain as the truth slowly dawned.
“You mean it’s true? Oh my god…”
I ripped my arms from the guards grasp and lunged back towards my girl. My sweet girl. I kissed her on her forehead just as I felt the chain yanked back, pulling tight against my shoulder blades.
“Give ‘em hell, honey!” I shouted from the doorway, “You give ‘em hell!”
I closed my eyes as I was pulled from the room, but not before I saw the pure white of the monitor in the back. A grin split my face as I committed the details of my beautiful daughter to memory.
My daughter - a master personality born from a generation of slaves. It might be the last I’d see of her, but I knew it wouldn’t be the last I heard. | "Darling, baby, poochikins,"
The mother cried with glee.
"Is she lovely, is she funny?
Show her traits to me!"
Mother's prodding poked the nurse
Who opened eyes of lead.
She glimpsed the screens that showed the genes
And sadly shook her head.
"Sorry, Mrs. Meyerson,
She's just too young to scan.
For every child's always filed
Yellow, brown, or tan." | |
[WP] Everyone's personality is based off the colour of their soul. You hand your baby over to the nurse and she scans it... She looks at the screen and realises that its going to be difficult explaining this. | "What's wrong? Is everything alright?" I asked.
"Well, Mister Johnson, your baby's personality profile fits that of a sociopath's," the nurse said, beckoning me over. I looked at my little girl, lying there on the table, so small and innocent, and trudged over.
"What does that mean for us?" I glanced at the screen, filled with technical jargon, numbers, and government codes.
"Well, sociopaths can live productive and ordinary lives. Many CEOs happen to be sociopaths. But raising her alone will be difficult. She'll lack any sort of morality. She may be a danger to other children, and has a higher chance of a criminal record." She stumbled in her speech here and there. She had practiced this before, but probably never thought she'd use it. Sociopaths were rare.
"Oh my god." I hid my face in my hands. "Are you sure? Can we scan her again?"
"The machine is a hundred percent accurate." The nurse said, shifting in her shoes. "Even if I were to scan her again, we'd get the same result. But she's still your little girl. She still needs a loving father. Just be prepared for the hardship ahead."
I nodded. "First my wife. Now my baby. Can I please have some time alone?"
"Of course, Mister Johnson." The nurse left in a hurry, though she tried not to show it.
I grinned as I turned the bottle of Warfarin over in my pocket. It was easy enough to slip some of the potent anticoagulant into my wife's drink before rushing her over. Only the best hospital, I had said. Because I knew I could sue for more when she died during labor. I'd need the money to raise my successor. | "Darling, baby, poochikins,"
The mother cried with glee.
"Is she lovely, is she funny?
Show her traits to me!"
Mother's prodding poked the nurse
Who opened eyes of lead.
She glimpsed the screens that showed the genes
And sadly shook her head.
"Sorry, Mrs. Meyerson,
She's just too young to scan.
For every child's always filed
Yellow, brown, or tan." | |
[WP] You're a hacker who accidentally discovers the code for the simulation of our universe. You decide to make some changes. | The room was not very large. Perhaps five by five meters, and about half as high. The walls were covered in a drab but not unpleasant beige paint, or maybe that was the just the color of the material itself. One of them displayed a large, translucent square - a screen of sorts? Or strange art? Couldn't tell. The rest of walls were empty of any adornments. The ceiling was much the same: not even a light bulb hung from it, defying the medium illumination that filled the room. Strangely, there were no windows; there wasn't even a door.
I hesitantly walked around, keeping my hands to myself but looking closely at every inch of the room. Nothing jumped out at me, or addressed me in any fashion; it was just me, alone in this strange room. I was beginning to feel a little panicky. I called out, maybe a little loudly, for someone to help me. I didn't understand where I was, how I got here and what this place even was.
Nothing answered my cries, not even my echoes. A shiver went down my spine as the sounds of my wavering voice were swallowed up by the room.
*Strange* seemed to be the word on my mind that never left as little surprise after surprise revealed itself to me. I did not feel sleepy, thirsty or hungry - not even a little. In our day-to-day lives, we sometimes ignore the passive cries of our body; we tend to them when we're less busy or the need grows more urgent. But here, those desires, those needs of mine just ceased to be.
I suddenly realized I had been pacing hard around the room. Forcing myself to stop, I closed my eyes and tried to pull myself together. There had to be a way out, or at least an explanation. I leaned an arm against a wall and tried to think.
Suddenly, the wall began to shift form.
I yelped and pulled back toward the center of the room. To my amazement, I watched as many little dials, switches and levers appeared all over the walls. All of them had inscriptions on them, words in some foreign alphabet; it looked like nothing I had ever seen before. Eventually, the activity ceased and the room became entirely still again, save for my twitching. I walked around, looking at the different devices that had somehow appeared into being.
Then, the screen on the adjacent wall flickered on.
My eyes grew wide as I looked upon a myriad of stars and nebulae. Was it a galaxy of some sort? The shape didn't seem right. One bright, blurry point of light drew me closer, though I didn't know why; it did not particularly stand out among the rest. I reached out and tapped it, and the screen changed drastically, and the view began to *zoom* in on my finger. Soon, the Milky Way galaxy came into view. More tapping, and eventually I peered down at Earth itself.
For a while, nothing happened. I don't know long I stood there, switching between watching the screen and glancing at the other walls; it was impossible. But then suddenly, at some point, I felt overcome with an overwhelming sense of frustration; I resolutely grabbed the handle of circular dial, and shifted it counter-clockwise about 90 degrees. The symbol above the dial, shaped somewhat like a sea urchin, began to glow a faint red.
Looking back at the image on the screen, I watched, astonished, as it began to...*rewind.* First, the moon seemed to pause, and then revolve in the opposite direction. The Earth itself reversed and began rotating toward its west side. I viewed this for some time, until curiosity pushed me to pull the dial further counter-clockwise, perhaps two full revolutions. Now, the effects were much more dramatic; the continents shifted, moving toward each other; meteors seemed to fly out of Earth in every direction; the color of the planet began to change as well, from the characteristic green, brown and blue to more reddish, yellowish colors. Eventually, the moon seemed to collapse onto Earth and the planet became much larger, and then much smaller, and smaller, until it was only so many large space rocks clumped together...
Feeling my heart pound, I quickly reversed the direction of the Time dial and watched with some relief as the scenery reverted back to "present day." I looked around, and found a lever on the opposite wall that seemed interesting. It looked heavy and old-fashioned, much like what one would see in 20th century ship engine control rooms. It even had several labels to which the lever could turn; granted, I could decipher none of the mysterious shapes. Shrugging, I pushed the lever from a symbol that looked almost like a capital **S** to one that was a mix between a Chinese character and a percent symbol.
The scenery on the screen changed - that is, not the content itself, but the way I viewed. Suddenly, I could see and *comprehend* every line connecting
every single particle displayed; the elongating curve as the Earth revolved around the sun, each minute clump of space debris enclosing the planet, and all the connection they all shared with each other. I glanced back at the lever; right underneath was a dial with the same large symbol engraved upon it. I turned it clockwise three full revolutions.
Everything on the screen blew apart almost instantly. I somehow figured out how to zoom out, and watched in horrified fascination as the stars began to slow their revolution about the galactic core, the lines between them and the core and each other growing hair-thin. Shaking my head, I reversed the Gravitation dial and the galaxy winked back at me with its myriad stars settled back into place.
I still had no idea why or how I was here, but I was beginning to get an idea for what this room could do. Looking around at all the devices in front of me, I decided that I had no option but to continue experimenting.
____________________________________________________________
*Liked that? More stories [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/Idreamofdragons/)!* | So I was browsing github repos when the internet went down and I looked at the wifi icon and it had to Gods network. I went to google and saw that there was still connectivity so said what the hell and kept on browsing. I'm not really one to give a fuck if people look at my history. So there was a new user u/TotallyNotGod that had thousands of repos. The dates of some of his commits did not make any sense, they mostly displayed as NAN errors and some of them went back thousnads of years. It was pretty strange.
So I saw one for /UniversalPhysics and started looking at the README.txt. Tag version 1.0. This are the basic laws for the universe. They concern the building blocks - quarks, photons, muons, and rules for interactions between the particles. Note that the this universe starts from the quantam level - with lazy loading for anything below the size of a proton. The position and size of very small particle use stastical models to allow simplified particle interactions.
So, I thought - the true randomness of quantam physics is a trick to save computational power. I had never been a fan of this beacuse as a systems engineer - I like to think that cause and effect binds all things together, but the math looked pretty complicated so I went onto another repo
/Women - README.TXT - version 0.8. ... The hominoid female is created with a mind opaque to the male partener... I knew this much so far, so I stopped reading the readme and started looking into /Women/Sexuality folder. There were some pretty wierd flags and definately some legacy code in there. There was a flag DEV_TOGGLE_SHOULD_HAVE_THREE_NIPPLES = false. and DEV_TOGGLE_DOUBLE_UTERUS = false, and DEV_TOGGGLE_EXTERNAL_EGG_SACK = false. I thought the double uterus and external egg sacks we're pretty cool so I toggled the last two to true.
And this, my broodlings is why I, as a male rub my penis against the upper edge of your mother's belly every day. It fertilizes the eggs that she carries around in her sternum sack. And young female ones, this is why you have several vestigal flaps in back of your urethral cavity. Now, my broodlings - enough of these scholastic questions - lets play some soccer, divide yourselves into 5 teams. | |
[WP] Each alien species specializes in one particular field of study. There's a planet of great logicians, warlords, artists, librarians, etc with the best being the supreme leader. Earth has no specialty, and is home to many great experts in many fields. This frightens and upsets the aliens. | Going at 0.999c in a relatively crowded neighborhood, I whizzed by hundreds of thousands, maybe millions of planets on my way to *the one*. And a good 5-10% hosted a myriad of alien life forms, each with their own specialty:
Ordovans, the slimy (physically, not personality-wise) and brilliant detectives of the Milky Way. A veritable planet full of Sherlock Holmes and Auguste Dupins;
The Lopoineli, well-known for their incredible cold fusion engines that looked like works of art;
Speaking of art, not a race in the Galaxy could marvel the brushstrokes painted by one of the Koorodello, who paint in all the colors of the electromagnetic spectrum;
And of course, the more 'unusually' talented ones, like Waak, who reigned supreme in the ability to create chocolate-based cold desserts.
It was one of these latter types I was interested in, and it wasn't long before my ship began to decelerate into the orbit of a large, greyish-brown planet called Miduu. Mostly unremarkable, really - rocky surface, a couple of small moons, stable magnetosphere, etc. But it was the Miduu (now I'm talking about dominant species on the planet; confusingly enough, they've remained adamant in keeping the name of their planet and their species the same word) that interested me. Specifically, what they were known for. And as I banked down into their upper atmphospheric highway, my heart swelled with happiness as my wildest dreams came true:
Purple, pink, lime-green, beige, spotted, sandy, smooth, gritty, cigar-shaped, rubbery, velvety, slippery, grainy, metallic, matte, globular, crystalline, hairy, bowl, wide-brimmed, 10/25/45-gallon - every single type I could've ever imagined, all made by the galaxy's foremost experts on the subject, all in one place.
I had the biggest grin on my face as I set my ship down for the first time on the literal [Planet of Hats](http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/PlanetOfHats).
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*Liked that? More stories [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/Idreamofdragons/)!*
| A very uncool space-faring flagship parked itself close to the coast. I was standing barefoot, wearing nothing but the tightest speedos money can buy and a silk cape fit for a king, some 20 meters away from the waves. Besides me, an army. The cruelest one that has walked the earth. It was my dream to create the kind of horde that'd make the great Khan himself salivate. Survivors of a hundred battles, guilty of every inhuman crime. They have faced many strong enemies, but they themselves are beyond strength. Their feats have spread across the galaxy, I've made damn well certain of it..
This is all a farce.
Here I see them open wide, the tackiest doors I've ever seen in my life. Even from here I could hear a complex orchestra of sounds, all coming from the ship. Even today the mysteries of space faring-ships elude us. I could hears the *whomp whomp* from the ventral tau particle array, the *shaka shaka* from the biogenic power converter, the *fomp fomp* that indicated the re-modulation of the nanowave quark accelerator, and **many** other-worldly sounds probably coming from even crazier techno-babble! A ramp, slowly, oh so slowly *crawling* and making way for my dearest guests. Three shadows waited for the ramp to be done, and then they came—the three aspects of restraint. Three high level officers from the Galactic Semi-Authoritarian Illiberal Kritarchy.
I can feel myself choking.
Armed to whatever is their equivalent of teeth they come. Oh yes please, fear me more. The three aspects are surrounded by each by four Eleanor Infiltrators, the most accomplished Spec Ops body in the galaxy. Their captain I recognize, a man now known as Sir Thimble Knight of Onions—a rapper thought to be dead who defected the human cause. Scum may he be, but he is a man of many talents and more importantly, easy to bribe.
Hugo, the second aspect, steps forward. An imposing fellow that would tower over the tallest man. As he reaches for his space iPad I catch a glimpse of his personal shield generator. Cheeky. He's nervous, they all are. The guards might hide it well but I can feel their fear. Luckily, they're too unfamiliar with human face tells to realize that I'm pissing my pants.
Hugo begins, with what I can only assume is their equivalent of a solemn voice, "Fido, semi-supreme leader of the Galactic Semi-Authoritarian Illiberal Kritarchy, protector of worlds, has authorized me to engage in diplomatic relations with the human known as the **Sand Emperor**." He puts away his space iPad. "Shall we continue this diplomatic mission in your breeding grounds?" I can only hope that last part was some sort of translation error.
I notice that he's looking behind me. I can almost feel his fear (I'm feeling fear myself) as he gazes upon my magnum opus: an exact 1:1 replica of Darth Father's castle—complete with torture chambers—made entirely from sand! The largest tourist attraction in all of western Cascais, and Europe! Ah yes, tremble you fool! The 501'st platoon has you on their sandy sights!
To enter my humble abode is probably customary diplomatic proceedings, ones he would normally not evade, for I can see that he doesn't actually want to go inside. I'm not surprised, for the **Fortress of Wailing** would be his doom! Had it not be made entirely out of sand that is. I simply can't allow them inside. Luckily, there's an easy way out. I signal their captain.
They quickly exchange a few words. They grew more nervous than before. The Onion Knight should be explaining how my fortress is a security death trap and merely going in is tantamount suicide. They nervously glance at my sand army.
I step forward and adjust my speedo. "I'd rather get this done quickly, I have worlds to conquer." Ugly pause. "My proposal is this: let the Galactic Semi-Authoritarian Illiberal Kritarchy leave this corner of the galaxy alone. Focus their expansionist terraforming and colonizing efforts east. Focus your military north to deal with the Muppet fleets that lay waste to your core industrial worlds. You will benefit a lot from not adding another front to this war, eh? After all, your southern trade routes are oh so vulnerable..." I casually glance at my legion, as if they were not secretly made of sand.
The three aspects have a quick meeting. I can tell they already want to leave. I spread a lot of rumors about how I normally treat envoys... Besides, my proposal does not inconvenience them at all. What I suggested was already going to be implemented as their organization's policy for the next few decades. The Onion Knight is surprisingly talkative for someone that was supposed to have abandoned humanity.
"This is acceptable. We shall deal with the specifics later. We are almost done developing a protocol that would allow our technologies to communicate." He bows.
The alien delegation begins to leave. As they board the ship, the Onion Knight looks back. I could swear I saw him wink. The ships flies away. This should hopefully buy humanity enough time to be ready when the eye of Fido looks back with greed at this poor blue marble.
Speedo man saves the day once again. | |
[WP] You get sent an e-mail with a file called "The Universe" by an anonymous sender. At first, you think it's a joke but things get weird when your edits start to effect the world around you... | *Ding*
My laptop happily chimed, notifying me of an email I just received.
*No subject*
*Attachments: TheUniverse.exe*
*- I've given up. I used one of your RNG programs and you were the name that came up. Do what you want, I'm making a new one anyway.*
*Sincerely,*
*God(s) of what ever false religion you follow*
Huh. Strange. My instincts told me it was a dumb idea to open an executable from someone I really didn't know, but after a quick virus scan (that never actually managed to finish scanning), curiosity gave in and I decided to download the file.
400 terabytes?!?!?! What kind of program is this?! Off to my local PC store it is.
After spending $200 on hard-drive space I was finally able to download the program. 29 hours later, it was ready to go.
"Alright 'TheUniverse.exe', let's see what you've got"
I was greeted with a rather simple UI, there were a multitude of tabs located at the top of the window. "Insert", "Location", "Select", "Settings" and "Modify".
Well, at least it is an actual thing, not just incoherent binary designed to take up 400 terabytes.
Underneath the tabs was simply black, aside from one small spot of white in the middle, like a very distant star. I decided to check the "Location" tab.
I was greeted by a very long list of options. Skimming over the options, the ones that stood out were "Set location" and "Move to location". I clicked on "Set location"
*Select option:*
*Set to current location (3D)*
*Set to current location (4D)*
*Set to defined location (3D)*
*Set to defined location (4D)*
The option "Set to current location (4D)" was faded, like I wasn't able to select it, so I selected "Set to current location (3D)". That was when my computer really kicked into overdrive, like it was rendering a very complicated room. Good thing I have one of the highest end computers available.
After a few moments, I was greeted by a sight that separated my time as a human, to my time as a God. I saw myself. Or at least what I thought was myself. The thing is, I was an array of very confusing colours all overlapping. I could only tell it was my room thanks to the outline. Stunned, I clicked on the "Settings" tab to see if I could get a better picture. Damn is it a long list. Separated into a multitude of sub-tabs. I cycled through the absurdly long list until reaching the "Display" sub-tab. After a few minutes, I found "Light". Assuming this was the problem, I clicked on it.
*Select frequencies*
*Lower:*
*Upper:*
After a quick search, I found the visible spectrum of light and inputted "0.000000424" into lower and 0.00000076" into upper. After hitting enter, I was greeted by a picture perfect depiction of my room.
"Holy shit"
____________________________________________________________________________________
Yeh, so that happened. Of course I searched my room for cameras but came up blank. I had to experiment more. The first thing that interested me was the "Set to defined location (4D)". I suppose an insight on how one would define the fourth dimension was a bit more then mildly interesting.
After clicking on the tab a window with these options showed up:
*Set location (4D)*
*X coordinate:*
*Y coordinate:*
*Z coordinate:*
*Continuity level:*
As to what "Continuity level" means, I will never be sure. What I do know, is that I couldn't input numbers or letters into that box. Moving on.
"Select". Upon clicking this, I was again greeted by a dictionaries worth of tabs, so I just clicked the top one, "Quick select". This added X,Y,Z coordinates to the UI, and (after a bit of experimenting) I found pressing the arrow keys would move the cursor in the Z axis, and the X and Y was controlled by the mouse. I fiddled around until I had selected a small box, about 1cm x 1cm x 1cm of empty space right next to me on my desk.
"Insert". You know the story, tabs galore. Being a lowly educated chemist (I know the fundamentals) my self, I clicked on "Element", assuming it was indeed referring to a chemical element. I was right, a periodic table is what I was presented with, with the element names in English. I suppose this was when it first hit me as to how strange this all being in English was. Anyway, being nervous as to what this might do, I picked the most inoffensive solid element I could think, and stupid me, picked Aluminium/Aluminum. If you don't know, Aluminium/Aluminum is actually quite stable in our oxygen rich atmosphere, once it has been oxidised. However, a pile of un-oxidised Aluminium/Aluminum powder is actually an explosive. Lucky for me it was only a 1x1x1cm cube, so all it did was burn the table. But that wasn't what surprised me.
It worked. It actually worked. This program can modify the world around me. All the things I could do, all the problems I could solve! I should share this with the world, this is the biggest scientific discover since... well... ever!
But... all the problems it could cause. In the wrong hands, the world, and likely the universe, would cease to exist. I guess I have to keep it to myself then... And so I did.
____________________________________________________________________________________
It's been 2 months now, and so far I've only touched what I estimate to be about 0.1% of what this program can do. In this short time though I have done the following:
Solved world hunger
Miraculously lost 10 kg in a day
Created a solar system 2 light years from our own (imagine the surprise when that was realised!)
Released a paper on how a black hole forms (with included equations) - should be said I have no idea what anything means, just copied it from TheUniverse.exe
Increased the timescale by a factor of 1000. There isn't any noticeable difference though, which I guess makes sense.
And accidentally destroyed our moon...twice
This is where it ends. I still have so much to do with my universe, and after I make myself immortal, I'll be able to do what I want for the rest of eternity.
| I found the file on my email and looked it up on my computer to mess around with it, it was on a boring evening and the email just showed up. I might have screwed up... I opened all the tabs and there was one for every person and there was every photo and a constant video of each person in a third person style. I also found universal laws and deleted gravity for a second then restored the file after everything started floating.
I opened the personal files and did the same test with some YouTuber, I even dug deeper and found physical description tabs. What I did first wasn't bad, I erased the obesity body type and made everyone a healthy weight and got rid of diseases/viruses and the world became better, I even lengthened the age of humans by 2x. I had a bit of a stomach and health problems but was now perfectly healthy and fit, I even found skills tabs and added "freerunning" to my skills.
I wanted to try something different and went to a text thing online to copy and paste the description of Gal Gadot and put the physical description files into my own. I felt slight pain for a second and looked down to see I was changed, I was also wearing a black tank top and workout pants along with black sneakers. I also added working out to interests and made myself live alone with a pay increase at my job to pay for the apartment then went to my bedroom to do some... stuff before I was gonna change myself back to the fit version of myself.
I walked downstairs to the computer feeling good after the... experiment, then went to the computer and my phone had another email. I read it and it apologized for accidentally sending the previous email, it also added that it liked all the changes and would keep them but they had to remove the software from my computer. But I was supposed to change back now... I searched the computer and it was all gone...
I tried everything, emailing the sender, looking in my computer the best I could but nothing worked. I laid on my chest on the couch by the computer... the world was better but I was stuck like this...
It's been a month and I got used to everything and apparently every change is basically like it was always in effect so I was apparently born like this... well grew up into this current form but... you probably know what I mean... I got a lot of miles in Pokémon Go with all the jogging I do now so that's cool, I also freerun and I've always wanted to do that.
It could be worse I guess | |
[WP] Write a story about a nice guy with a white van | I pushed in the black button on the door handle, causing it to creak and groan as the door fell open. I jumped into the hot, musty interior enveloping a single bench seat, leaving the door hanging open. I sneezed and paused as aches settled across my body. *I hope I'm not getting a cold.*
I placed my left foot on the clutch, right on the brake, as I pushed a key into the ignition. My lip ached from my anticipation biting as I turned the key. A big smile crept through my anchored lips as a satisfying rumble followed the chirping of the engine turning over.
I held my breath as I listened carefully. The humming and rumbling continued. I gasped slowly and pumped my fists against the roof of the cabin. I squealed at too high of a pitch, "finallyyyyyy!"
Six months ago, I stood in Jason's driveway on a cool, 80 degree day. There it stood, white, with an old, cracking blue logo of an ice cream cone. Some gradient deep blue to white blue text bordered the bottom of the ice cream cone, but it was too faded to be legible.
Jason's hand met my back with a loud "thap!" His booming voice came warmer than usual. "You earned it."
I wiped my hands over my mouth. My voice wavered. "Oh, man, you can't. I'd really owe you."
Jason rolled his eyes. "Nah, man, it didn't cost me anything. It don't run yet."
I put my right hand over the cracked text, feeling the roughness and chipping under my fingers. "I'll pay you back. It'll take time, but I'll pay you back."
"No, dude, it's your birthday it didn't cost anything. I just got it from the junkyard. It don't run. It's kind of a shit present."
I turned and hugged Jason, ignoring the dampness of his clothes. "It cost you time, I'll pay you back. Thank you."
Jason groaned. "Get it running first, get a job, then we'll talk."
I rubbed my hands down my face again, nodding. "I can do that. Thanks, man."
In the present, I smiled excessively, rubbing my hands back and forth over the steering wheel as the engine hummed away. I pulled out my phone, grinning as I typed out, "its running! i dont need a ride!"
I returned to rubbing my hands over the steering wheel, patting and chattering to myself. I spoke in a deep voice. "Oh, no, we don't have anymore taco shells OR chips!"
Then in a high pitched voice. "It's ok! I can go out to the store RIGHT NOW, even though the buses aren't running anymore, and pick up BOTH of those things!"
Back to the deep voice. "But how will you pay for that?!"
Back to the high pitch. "With the money from my job now that I have transportation, of course! I use the rest of it for paying back my great friends, too!"
I jumped at the feeling of my phone vibrating next to me. It was Jason, responding to me. "CONGRATS! Do you want me to follow you over?"
More grinning. "no i think it will make it!"
An instant reply. "Let me know if that changes!"
A quick "thank you" fell from my fingers before returning to patting the steering wheel. I glanced at the clock, 10:52 AM. Two hours before my interview still. I grabbed the tall, awkward shifter in the center of the floor, moving it into first gear as I shut the door.
Each successful shift, my smile got bigger. I stayed in the neighborhood, careful to drive slowly until I was sure. I approached a stop sign exiting the neighborhood. I looked to my right, noting the height of the hill. I would have to overcome it every day if my interview went well.
I flipped my right turn signal on, checking once more for oncoming and nearby cars. Into first.... second... The van crawled to the top of the hill. A gleeful laugh escaped me. I took lefts until I was back in a neighborhood on the opposite side of my stop sign. I pulled over to park in front of a yard waving at the children and their mother before pulling out my phone. I opened my texts with Jason. "we made it over THE hill!"
I put my phone away, putting the car back in first and approaching the stop sign. I flipped on my left signal, ready to climb the hill again. Consistency is important, after all. The van lurched forward into the street.
I gasped.
Back into neutral, clutch in, brake in, my head was spinning and racing, trying desperately to comprehend.
A boy, on a scooter, hit a rather large rock, tumbling dramatically down the hill, landing on his side. My eyes stayed wide. I hadn't even noticed the rock before.
I checked my mirrors. Nobody around. I hit my hazards and turned the car off, using it as a road block, and hopped into the street. I ran to the boy, who didn't move at first.
I placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to take in the injuries. I sounded firmer and more sure than I felt. "Are you all right?"
A whimpering, sniffing face looked up to me and nodded. His right arm, against the pavement, didn't quite look right. He was covered in road dust, blood, and scrapes.
I looked around, still nobody in the area. "Where's your parents?"
He looked away, an embarrassed expression on his face. "At work. I snuck out while gramma was napping."
I looked back over his bleeding left arm. "You don't look so good, friend. I'm calling 911."
"No!" he yelled, trying to push himself up. His right arm failed, causing him to fall onto his back. "We can't afford an ambulance." A shameful frown overcame his face.
My brows furrowed. "I bet your parents would think it's worth it." I sighed, trying to think it through.
He whimpered. "Please. I'm ok." He leaned forward against his feet, then stopped suddenly, wincing and clenching his jaw, and leaned back. "I'm ok."
I put my bare hand on the pavement for a moment to shift my weight. I yelped at the heat, pulling my hand back. "We gotta get you off of this." I ran back to my van, opening the back, then back to the child. "Come here..."
I carefully lifted him, carrying him to the back of my truck and placing him on the newly carpeted interior. "You got a phone?" He shook his head. "Do you know your gramma's or parents' numbers?" He nodded.
I unlocked my phone, bringing up the dialer and handed it to him. "OK, tell them I'm taking you to the urgent care on 5th." He nodded again, taking my phone uncertainly. I closed the van doors behind him, running back to the front.
I glanced at the time. 11:27. *Maybe.* I turned the car on and flipped off the hazards.
I parked at 11:46, running to the back and scooping the child up. Nobody had picked up as he left diligent voicemails for each number. Traffic had been awful. I learned his name was Elias. I placed him in a chair as I checked in with the receptionist. They recognized his name, had his insurance. I sighed in relief.
The wait was an hour and a half. Probably still quicker than the ER.
I sat by him, checking the time. 11:59 already. No calls.
Elias pulled his lollipop from his mouth. "You don't have to wait here, you know." His lip had blood crusted over it. *They couldn't give him a rag?*
"I do until we hear from your parents." I smiled. I looked back over the stuffy, gray room. I noticed a vending machine and looked back at my phone. 12:03. Less than an hour to hear from his parents, get home, shower, grab my resume, and be 15 minutes early. "I'm gonna go grab a snack, you want anything?"
He shook his head.
I walked just around the corner to the vending machine, checking he was still there before I unlocked my phone. An unread text from Jason. "CONGRATS! Good luck on the interview!"
I frowned, imagining my interviewer waiting as I didn't show up.
I opened my interview email, highlighting the phone number and calling it.
I reached his voicemail. I couldn't make it, there was an emergency.
I lowered my phone to hit end call. A voicemail. I tapped the play button, listening carefully, the calling the number back.
I returned to Elias, opening a pack of gummy candies. "Your parents are stuck in traffic, they talked to your grams, and they said you like these." A big smile came over his face. | Boopers was a good man. He enjoyed eating pie at festivals.
But there's catch. He had a white van. People with white vans are taboo, and he farts in public too.
Nobody liked Boopers.
Boopers ate cerium soup every Tuesday. Cerium soup was very special to Boopers. His mom gave it to him every Tuesday when he was just a young sport. He loves cerium soup.
He started to develop a severe allergy to cerium soup so he decided to go to 4th dad's wife's cousin to get a test.
Boopers had a blue kitten named Steven. Steven drank some cerium soup, which we all know Boopers is allergic to. One day, Boopers was petting Steven and started getting severe hives and died.
Edit: I know this story is so good. If anyone wants to write me fan mail, you can send it to me! | |
[WP] Humanity has made first contact and an alliance has been forged. Surprisingly, it happens to be with the most feared species in the galaxy. | Earth's oldest alliance on the intergalactic stage was formed long ago, long before humanity could possibly know of its significance. Stories were passed down about the event for generations, each time becoming increasingly altered and vague, until they finally morphed into modern folklore and myths. During all that time that stories were being told and morphed, however, the long forgotten subjects of these stories were watching over our young planet, protecting it from would-be invaders and other threats.
In much more recent history, when we made (what we thought at the time was) our first contact with humanity's secret benefactor, they revealed that this was in fact our second such meeting. After the public became informed of the meeting, many things suddenly fell into place that shook our collective reality. Some cried while others rioted but, for most of us, time just stood still for a while. However, it appeared progress was not to be slowed by a case of world-wide culture shock. Earth's governments worked swiftly with the alien race to create, what is to date, the strongest coalition in the universe.
Officially, it is known as the Sector Theta-E Strategic Alliance (STESA) but, here on Earth, most people refer to it by its much more euphonious nickname: the Angel Alliance. Indeed, our long-unknown guardian angels were in fact... well, angels.
*Author's note: I'm too tired to write more now, but I do want to continue this at some point, so I'm just gonna go ahead and post it up here before I accidentally delete everything I just wrote thanks to my sick tech skillz and cat-like reflexes.* | The year is 2420 and humans have finally made contact with an unknown species in the vast universe. Much has changed in human civilization including the adoption of memes as a form of cultural and historical study. During the Dank Meme Boom of the 21st century, a high amount of memers chose to change their surnames to their favorite memes. Hence, the the popular additions of the surnames Harambe, ForeverAlone, SadPepe, Derp, Ytho and many other dank surnames. This movement sparked the meme enlightenment age and brought on a new era of academics and study called meme history. This is contact with aliens proved to be one of the dankest discoveries in meme history because of the utilization of ancient memes in our first contact lead to this alliance with these galactic creatures. This is the uncensored story of Space Captain ForeverAlone and his dank space crew.
"Space Captain ForeverAlone, it seems that these aliens really do like us," said Lieutenant Doge.
"I don't why Doge, but I just had the strongest urge to meme these fucks just to see how they would react. I ended showing them the Forever Alone meme, which was the origin of my surname that dates back to the 21st century. I expressed to them that at times I was disappointed in my life, felt forever alone, and that meme symbolized my pain in this dank way. They were busting their galactic balls laughing at the meme in relation to my shitty life experiences and I think that's what got to them."
Doge looked confused and elated. He had never thought of memeing hard during his militaristic duties and especially in this situation with the most feared species in the known universe.
"But why though," Doge said.
ForeverAlone in a stern voice said, "Memes can make or break worlds. Take our world for example. There is so much insight on time periods, emotions, and events based on every singular, concise bit of meme. They tell a story and I'm just telling them our story through the dankness of memes."
Doge's face lit up with joy and in the background General Ytho and Lieutenant Harambe were touched by the inspiration Space Captain ForeverAlone was radiating from his dank explanation.
"The greatest meme of them of all is that if these memes didn't work with the aliens, we'd all be probably dead right now. Don't worry though they're memeing each other now. They have telepathic powers and can meme by thought. Right now the leader of the species, Kreygas, is telepathically memeing his population with Forverver Alarknark, which is equivalent of our Forever Alone meme."
The space crew went white for a moment, but most sighed of relief knowing that the memes worked out in the end. The humans were galactic homies with the baddest in the universe because of the memes of their ancestors.
| |
[WP] Humanity has made first contact and an alliance has been forged. Surprisingly, it happens to be with the most feared species in the galaxy. | Despite decades of cinematic brainwashing, humanity's First Contact situation went smoother than a baby's bottom. There had been no misinterpretation of militaristic rituals, no translator malfunctions, no irreparable biological differences that could've made communications impossible.
In fact, it had been textbook. After the successful Europa and Titan missions that proved the viability of our new grav-engines, mankind was soon hailed by an extraterrestrial force just outside the Uranus orbit.
They had come in peace, though nobody thought they would, given the massive technological superiority - however, some xenoanthropologists later theorized that it was humanity's weakness and relative smallness (in relation to the Galaxy-spanning Xenta Empire), that made conflict unfavorable.
We survived because there was nothing they could gain from us, aside sating their curiosity.
Earth loved the Xentians. In fact, they became a craze bigger than Justin Bieber back in the early 21st century. Not just because they offered us a hand through the cold vastness of the cosmos, because they proved we were not alone. Not because they hadn't decimated us with their warships. Not because we *were* alike, as alike oxygen-breathing and carbon-based lifeforms on two opposite ends of the galaxy could be. No, not because of that...
***
Kurt was still getting used to the high gravity of Bakkon-II, even after the complete hell of the allied bootcamp back on orbit. He wobbled on the stilts of his exorig, trying to keep balance as he and Fevash climbed uphill, towards the Jarran command base. Even in the rig, he barely reached his partner's shoulder, matching the Xentian's stride with visible effort.
When they finally got there, he flopped on his stomach, stretching his aching legs out and cloaked, peering at the structure through his rifle's scope.
"So", he hissed in rather broken Xenta. "You think the intel was right? Their Zealot gonna be there?"
"Intel's rarely wrong", Fevash drawled. He turned his head to Kurt, his huge yellow eye's pupil thinning into a narrow slit. "S-sshe will be there".
Kurt huffed in disagreement.
"Yeah, no. Remember the Tsagga Campaign just a few months ago? My brother was there with the Serpents 12th link, got into an ambush... all cuz some egghead misinterpreted the Jarran comms".
"Mis-stakes are war's currency, Kkkkurt", Fevash's voice spliced into a characteristic yowling chirp that the Xentians had for a laugh. "Anyway. I'm going in. You cover me, yess?"
Kurt smiled wickedly and flipped out his rifles' stand.
"Nah, chicken-legs. You're on your own. I'm just gonna lie here, pretending it's a nice sandy beach on Hawaii".
***
It didn't take that long for humans to become a part of the Xentian warmachine. Just around forty Earth years.
With the aliens' arrival - and the subsequent alliance - came a bunch of perks that humanity was forced to process quickly if it wanted to stay relevant on the galactic scale.
True FTL principles. Terraforming technology. Access to parts of the Xentian industry and market. And, arguably the most important - the knowledge that the galaxy was quite a crowded space. Many forms of life thrived in relatively close quarters to each other... and not always peacefully.
The fact that Xentians were involved in large scale wars with nearly each and every one of their neighbors came to light rather late in the mutual ass-kissing phase, when the governmental alliances and trade had been already established.
Without having any edge over other galactic powers, pushing for independent politics wasn't only impossible for Earth - it was downright dangerous. However, humanity could prove itself to be useful. The Xentians caught on it, since the records of mankind's history were openly available to the alien benefactors. War was no stranger to man, like it was no stranger to Xenta.
The Xenta Empire was pragmatic. Any being capable of holding a weapon in the Empire's war-effort had been good enough for them.
***
Fevash de-cloaked as soon as he got to the command center's place, to lure the Jarrans out in a display of heresy. Theocratic fanatics, the hexapedal blue-skinned citizens of Jarragan believed scripture over tactics, and as soon as dirty foot of a Xenta warmonger stepped on the sacred soil of the base, they had spilled out of the barracks in droves, overcome by frenzy.
Over the hill, Kurt provided sniper support.
Picking off the Jarrans' kinetic shields, he couldn't help but be mesmerized by Fevash's dance of death. He cloaked and de-cloaked amidst his attackers, materializing to land a blow from his wrist-coil or sink a claw into an unprotected enemy. Every part of the Xentian saboteur was made for delivering violent death - from fang to the tip of the tail which he used a club against the incoming Jarran soldiers.
*"No"*, Kurt thought, as he pulled the trigger slowly, exploding the flat, splayed out head-crest of a Jarran fanatic that managed to get to Fevash's back. *"Competing with such a force directly is madness"*.
He had fought with Fevash side to side, of course, on many occasions. But even with the augmentations - the armored exo-rig, the mechanized stilts, AI subsystems that granted greater awareness - humans were still behind. The partnership wasn't fully equal. Still, it was better than being on the receiving end of Xenta Empire's ambitions.
Plus, it's not like they hadn't a niche.
The gap between man and Xentian was taken as a fact of life - it never needed to be addressed in the joint ranks of the Empire's military, but a human's value in certain fields was stressed and respected. It worked well enough for Kurt and millions others.
"Getting busssy over here", Fevash chirped into the comm, as he pushed a dead body off his footclaw and jumped aside nearly three meters, to avoid a ball of plasma. "The Zealot finally grac-ssed me with her presenc-se".
"Just admit you're lonely, chicken-legs", in one swift motion, Kurt folded the rifle down, and bounced to his feet, servos whining in the planet's abhorrent 2G.
The channel burst with a screech of static.
"Need s-some bait, Flatface".
***
Unlike Xentians, humanity's superiority in Earth's ecosystem hadn't been earned by sharp teeth or claws in addition to the brains. Humanity excelled in forging crutches for its biological failings, something the Xentians never needed to the same degree on their home world.
The Xentian military doctrine revolved around reinforcing their strengths - and it made them perhaps, the most fearsome and reviled force in the galaxy. Yet, it didn't always work. Like with the Jarrans, for example, who's spiritual psychopathy broke every convention of the Xentians pragmatic approach to war.
Humanity offered them a new doctrine - of negating an existent weakness. Xentians, for all their ingenuity, hadn't come up with such things as biological warfare or artificial intellect.
Also, humans were nimbler, less of a juicy hulking target. Like vermin, they were unnoticeable under the feet of their powerful allies.
***
Both titans were locked in a death struggle - Fevash's wrist-coil was smashed to bits, pieces of scorched metal melted into the flesh of his arm, and the Zealot's plasma-cannon lay on the sand, empty and useless. The Jarran Commander writhed and yelled profanities as her neck and part of the upper shoulder pair was slowly crushed by the Xentian saboteur's jaws.
Then, Fevash hadn't fared better. The Jarran bigshot managed to punch through his torso's armor, and as he squeezed her neck further, so did the Zealot sink her fingers deeper into his stomach-wound, clawing for the bowels.
Careful to not trip over the bodies, Kurt circled the two, trying to find the best angle of attack.
Despite eyes circling the entirety of the Zealot's head-crest, the position she was in prevented her from losing focus on Fevash, so Kurt prayed that his approach had evaded her attention. He had abandoned the exorig right at the base's entrance, creeping into the battlefield on his own two. In some cases, smaller was better.
Yet, still, without the exorig he moved like a slug, fighting the gravity. Over radio, he could hear Fevash's labourous breath. Getting his intestines extracted was, perhaps, as uncomfortable for a Xentian as for a man.
"I'm gonna jam a sticky 'nade right behind her hip, Fev", Kurt whispered as he mirrored every sway of the hulking commander's back. "On my three, you let go, if you don't want to splode with her".
"One", with all his remaining force, Kurt brought the grenade's working end onto the Zealot's tough hide. It barely went through, but the howl of pain told him that at least some of the hooks sunk in.
"Two", he pressed down the detonator.
"Three!"
The explosion wave picked him up and threw away like a rag doll. The soft-suit's EM systems blew up with a deafening wail of sirens, screaming about damage and danger. Something peppered Kurt with a wet sound, pieces of flesh and chitin. As the ringing in his head cleared up, he opened his eyes, squinting against the light and dirt on the helmet's visor.
His left leg was broken, the EM concluded and died out, possibly fried. The pain was yet to come.
Fevash stood over him, hand outstretched. It always amazed Kurt, how small those hands were, how human-like...
"Alive", the Xentian growled, cocking his head sideways, lip curling to bare the sharp teeth in a sardonic grin - Kurt picked up an amused satisfaction in his partner's voice. "Comes as a s-ssurprise every time".
"Not going to offer you the pleasure, chicken-legs".
Kurt grabbed the offered hand and looked up at Fevash with an expression of deep, almost religious adoration - something he shared with most of humanity.
Turned out, that mankind had an irresistible pull towards Xentians, a sort of child-like fascination that dictated their loyalty across parsecs of void.
Earth just couldn't get enough of space dinosaurs.
| "Sir, our space travels have proven successful, we have found a civilisation." Said Kiff, sporting his clean uniform as the newly appointed 'intergalactic head messenger'.
The captain's face turned to a smile at this news."Good, this is spectacular! Are you sure? What should we do, oh I know! Drop a care package with flowers and what not, that way they will know we are nice." The captain had once thought that his job was going to be important, secretly searching the universe for other life commanding a crew on a space ship. Oh boy was he wrong. He had been captain for 12 years, only coming down to change the crew and pick up supplies every two years. However 12 years in space doing nothing but playing with the effects of no gravity can get to you. The captain was losing his senses.
"Captain, don't you think that is a bit silly? I don't think they will understand flowers."
"Are you the captain Kiff? No! I have spent a much longer time on this ship, you only joined us this year for gods sake. We send flowers, if they send us something back that doesn't kill us, we drop by for a visit, if they start trying to kill us, we open fire and steal their stuff."
"Wait- what! We can't just kill them! This is earth's first interaction with aliens, it has to be civil"
"Well then they better accept the flowers."
"I'm not sending flowers! Anyway, the only flowers on board at the ones James got given by his wife before she passed away, you can't do that to him."
"He is on the shitter right now, just go into his room and take them, it isn't as hard as you seem to think"
"That's not what I mean-"
"Captains orders, you do know that I have the powers to lock you in solitary confinement right? I can just claim that you have some space disease or something"
"You can't do that all because I refuse to give some aliens we have never met before flowers!"
"Yes I can"
"But- You know what, I'll give them the flowers"
With that Kiff marched through through the captains room and started his way to James' bedroom.
It was a weird process, going out into space just to deliver some flowers. He didn't need to attach thrusts or anything, with drag the flowers would just move in the same direction forever. However he would have to attach small temperature regulators. The captain probably wouldn't be happy if he sent frozen flowers as a gift. And with an easy well-aimed push, the flowers where delivered. Kiff got a good look at the planet. It was very grey, flowers were definitely something they didn't have, and if they the ship wasn't equipped with life scanners you would think that the planet wouldn't have any life at all.
Through the built in voice system of the space suit Kiff spoke "Flowers delivered sir, but I'm not the one breaking the news to James."
"No problem, we can get Rell to do that can't we, she is the one in charge of diplomatic discussions, so she must be able to convince James to get over his flowers"
"Rell is in charge of DIPLOMATIC DISCUSSIONS! Why didn't you tell me that! She should of been the one to choose what to do with the aliens, not you!"
"What did you think she did?"
"I don't know, something behind the scenes or something, what is the point of having a captain if you have other people to cover every job?"
"I organise everyone, and punish them when they act badly."
"But you are crap at organisation, and you are unfair with your punishments!"
"Look, I am the captain, enough said"
"But that's just not-"
All of a sudden a voice came over the ship's speakers, "glurgle wurble purble"
Kiff and the captain stayed still stunned, they had no idea what was happening.
"To you earth organisms, that means 'Hello, we have received your offering'. I am Orphlius Gorbizalorz Alponzso Promitior Cubort but you can call me 'Tim'. Please come aboard our planet to discuss our future. Over"
With that the system cut off.
The captain looked at Kiff and worry began to fill his face. "Kiff, you have to talk to them for me, if Rell finds out I sent them flowers she will kill me!"
"Well why did you send them flowers in the first place if you knew Rell was going to be unhappy with you!"
"I didn't think they would reply, normally when we find a planet with life, we send them a message, wait 20 minutes, and then blow them up"
"You what! So you have found planets with life before, but you just enjoy blowing them up. Wow"
"Please Kiff! You have to go, Rell can be really tough and she can beat me in a fight, she has done it before."
"You are the most pathetic captain in the whole universe..."
Without saying another word Kiff logged out of the voice system, unhooked from the ship, and began floating towards the planet.
"Gluble Turble Warpz"
"This is where we make our weapons, most of our citizens work here"
Kiff was being given the grand tour of the main facility on the planet, a weapons factory. The rooms were lined with guns, bombs, weird lasers, and some things he couldn't even think of what they might do in his imagination.
"When you sent us the gift of green life we were very thankful."
"Uhh... Tim was it... What do you mean by 'green life'."
"I believer it is called a 'plant'. 60% of our hatch-lings die because of the bad environment of our planet, with this we can start a proper facility and engineer all sorts of plants to help the larvae grow."
At the sound of the word larvae Kiff began to wonder if these aliens were really bugs, they didn't look like it, but they didn't look like anything else either.
"So Tim... What would you like to discuss with our people"
"Well first of all we would like to thank you again, most civilizations are too scared to make contact with us. This is because we are knows for the 2.61 billion life systems we have wiped out. However, we see that as an achievement which demonstrates our power. But since we have no alliances we are willing to make one with the one race that does not hide from us."
"Did you say 2.61 billion life systems? As in species, or planets?"
Kiff was starting to get scared.
"Galaxies, you are not destroying the life system of an area if you are only taking out one planet, that is nothing."
Kiff wanted to run
"So Tim, how do you manage to destroy a whole galaxy?"
"We have very powerful weapons and our space travel is very developed. Let me show you some of our hand held weapons, these are used in sport with other races when we need entertainment. We drop them into an arena and then attempt to shoot them down, well I say attempt, but we always win."
Tim and Kiff walked into a room to the left, filled to the brim with weird guns
"If you are willing to forge an alliance we could provide you with maybe a small 6 million of these hand held weapons, and 5 space fighters."
Kiff had an idea
"Uh-huh, could I maybe take one of these on board to my ship to be examined by our crew before we make any decisions?"
"Of course, we want this alliance to work out so feel free to take your time"
"And before I go, how do I fire it?"
"It is simple, pull this back and tap that button"
"Thank you Tim, I will be back, I promise"
Tim board the human space ship with gun in hand and walked towards the captain.
Raising his hand, pulling the slide back, finger hovering over the button, Kiff said... "There is a new captain now" | |
I don't know what to expect, I just thought of this. | [WP] Russia and the USA enter Nuclear War. Up on the ISS, USA and Russian Astronauts are currently present. It's Awkward | Both sides, staring at the screen and at each other.
"Uh, so, how does this work?"
"Is this the moment we pull out that tommy gun we hid in the lab 4 years ago?" one of the Russian astronauts says jokingly.
Alarmed, the US astronauts jump in surprise.
"Joking! I am joking!" the Russian astronaut cried.
"Hey, remember the cancer cells we had incubating in the lab? Let's go ahead and use that as a weapon!" one of the American astronauts yelled.
This time it was the Russians' turn to jump in surprise.
"Shutka! Shutka!" the American astronaut cried.
Both sides looked at each other, and began to laugh.
"How about that Desert Eagle our buddy brought along?"
"I stole one of Trump's nuclear warheads before taking the flight up here!"
"Oh yeah? Well we have a Samsung Note 7!"
"Jerry, I don't think they'll get that one."
"Oh please, we certainly do!"
And the two sides laughed. Despite the war going on, the astronauts forgot their nationality and chose to share a moment of comfort with one another.
"Well, what do we do?" one of the American astronauts said after the laughter died down. "We can't just pretend this is not happening."
"I have an idea," another Russian astronaut said. "Everyone, come together now."
____________
Back at Houston, 1 hour later
"Sir! We've received news of multiple photos that's gone viral on the internet that have been sent from the ISS! They've sent the photos to all major news outlets. CNN, ABC, Fox--you name it!"
"What! Let me take a look!"
The supervisor scrolled through all the photos.
"Ah, just let it go. I think this sort of thing is what we need in this moment in time."
The supervisor smiled. He looked down at the photo of the American and Russian astronauts, mingling among each other, laughing with each other as they played a round of Cards Against Humanity, forging bonds with each other that couldn't be broken even by two nations at war.
| **As nuclear war broke out on Earth, the ISS segregated itself into two sides: The Russian, and the US.** As we watched the bombs fall from the windows, the once jovial, international space community erupted into a battle of its own. No-one was sure who started it. The Americans blamed the Russians, the Russians blamed the Americans. Regardless, a man laid dead along the bridge, as both sides divided the oxygen and waited inside their halves of the station.
"What should we do with her?" Asked Derick. Derick was the pilot of the ISS, the one that kept us spinning. Over the years his job had become more and more automated thanks to Russian engineering. Had the war not happened, he would've been piloting his own shuttle back to Earth.
Derick pointed at our Russian hostage, Anastasia, as she huddled against the corner in her red Russian space suit.
"Just leave her be." Sophie replied. Sophie was the Communication's Manager when people were still talking to each other. Now, even Earth had gone silent.
"You know that corpse on the bridge is American.." Derrick grumbled. "It would be justice to trade blood for blood."
"We're astronauts not executioners." I said as I stood between Derrick and The Russian woman. "Besides, they have John."
"They have John?" Sophie asks as the crew began to murmur amongst themselves.
"Take a head count." I said as we looked around the room.
The count was forty-nine. Forty-nine American faces and all of them dehydrated from crying.
Derick finished his count a bit later than most and said "Well that's just perfect."
"I'll comm the other side. See if they have him." Sophie said as she picked up the radio transmitter.
Derick chuckled haughtily. "What makes you think they'll reply this time?"
"I'm going to offer a trade." Said Sophie as she clicked the radio on. Nothing but static.
"A trade?" Said Derick. "Keeping this woman here is the only thing stopping them from rushing us, guns blazing. I say we set up some defenses. Scrounge together anything that can be used as a weapon."
"No." Said Anastasia. Her accent heavy, and her voice weary. "My countrymen will take peace if it is offered."
"Bullshit." Derick remarked as his eyes rolled. "We've been offering peace for as long as theirs been war."
Derick stomped away through our section of the station as Sophie operates the radio. The crowd began to disperse, some following Derick, some searching for a comfortable place to rest. A few of us brought our tired eyes back towards the windows, to gaze again at Earth's destruction.
I knelt down beside the Russian woman and asked "How are you feeling?"
Slowly, she brought her eyes to mine. "Tired, hungry.. sad. My home is gone, my family is likely dead, and now, the only place I have left- the ISS, is tearing itself apart with paranoia."
I nodded. Pulled out my ration box. "Here," I said as I removed a protein block. "Eat this. Keep your strength."
She looked it over, and then she looked at me. "Thank you."
As she chewed on the gelatin square she said "I always hated these."
"Well, it looks as if these will be the only thing keeping us alive up here. Until the fallout is gone from Earth."
"Mhmm." She mused. "The taste of survival."
The two of us laughed for a moment, until that moment was interrupted by a reply on the radio.
"They want to make a trade." Smiled Sophie.
I nodded at Anastasia, and she nodded at me. I pulled her to her feet. The crowd reconvened, circling Anastasia and I like a group of white blood cells in padded EVA suits. Derick waited for us at the airlock.
"Making a trade?" He asked. He cradled a red fire axe in his hands. "Why not just offer her head?"
Derick pointed his axe at Anastasia, and then at me. A group of men surrounded us wielding daggers crafted out of glass, and sharpened led pipes. The war on Earth had turned our astronauts into tribesmen.
"Back off, Derick." Sophie shouted.
"So you're on the Russian's side?" Derick's eyebrows twisted in anger. "Then you should be treated like one."
Derrick gestured to a man with a broken bottle attached at the end of an iron rod. The man lunged towards Sophie, stabbing her chest. Sophie's face solidified before looking down. Streams of blood poured down from her lips as a red pool bloomed from her wound. She fell to the grated floor.
After absorbing her death Derick screamed "Kill anyone who gets in our way."
Derick's men began butchering anyone who didn't run. The smell of blood thickened the air. A man with a wrench swung out at me, missing my head by inches.
"Run." I yelled to Anastasia as I held the man in place.
She skirted around the man as I locked him in my grip, dashed over a man bleeding out on the metal floor, and hastened up a set of stairs to the observatory deck. Derick followed after her with blood splattered across his face.
I shoved my assailant backwards and he tripped over the man on the floor. A hard crunch added its noise to the compendium of screaming voices. The man with the wrench was dead, broke his neck against the bottom step of the stairs.
As I took his wrench I recognized his face. His name was Ryan, Ryan Henderson. He was twenty-seven and the only maintenance worker on the crew that didn't want to be an astronaut growing up. His parents had made him, and now Derick had made him fight. Now he was dead.
I ran up the flight of stairs to the observatory deck. The room was powered off and lit only by the massive window spanning its length. From here you could see Earth in all its blues and its greens, but now Earth had become a smoldering ball of fire and ash.
"Where is she?" Derick yelled as he turned to face me. His axe dripped with blood.
"Derick, drop the axe." I said to him. "We're all we have right now. All that's left of mankind. We can't j-"
"Shut up, Matthew." He interrupted. "What was your job anyways? Therapist? Do you know what it's like to keep this ship spinning while every year it gets more crowded, and more red? You can't trust these people. Without me, you would've seen this station flattened against the stars."
"We have to trust them." I said as I tossed the wrench between us. "We don't have a choice."
"You're right." He said as he approached me. "We don't have a choice."
He lifted his axe with his stride and I squared my feet. Before he could swing, the square panel beneath him shot out smoke and sparks. Derick's body froze in place as the churn of electricity flowed through his limbs. Ten seconds later, Derick crumpled sideways, as the electric buzz began to still.
The plate rose from the floor along with Anastasia's face. "Are you okay?" She asked.
I wiped sweat away from my forehead and nodded 'yes'.
She used my hand for leverage as she climbed from a crawl space with cables draped around her shoulder.
"We should tie him up." She suggested.
I wrapped the cords around Derick's legs without protest.
"How did you do that?" I asked when the job was finished.
She smiled as she pulled from the crawl space a severed wire. The end of it burned with a hot glow.
"My name is Anastasia Ivanova," She smiled. "ISS Electrical Expert."
______________
Thanks for reading! Follow r/WritingWithLace for short stories, long stories, and critiques.
|
[WP] Seven billion people fell asleep as human beings, and seven billion people woke up as something else entirely. | Well. For whatever reason, I'm really toasty but not sweating in bed. That's a nice change.
I feel a weird pain underneath my body. That's not normal.
I open my eyes. Why does everything seem so clear? There is no way that I have 20/10 vision. I'm shortsighted. Something is wrong.
I pick up my phone. Wait - my hand wasn't covered in fur yesterday. Something is seriously wrong. Let's check my reflection...
**CRASH.**
Wait, why am I on the fl... I fainted, didn't I.
I pick up my phone again. See my reflection. So **THAT'S** why I fainted. Apparently I'm an anthropomorphic grey, white and light blue folf now.
Also, I have a tail. An actual tail. Let that sink in. Done? Good. Guess that explains the pain in bed, I was laying on it.
I check Twitter. There's a major panic about people transforming into human-animal combos. So it happened to everyone else.
Get dressed. Make a cuppa and have breakfast. Put shoes on, get car keys, leave house. Into the car.
I use the car radio's Bluetooth option and call my friend.
Apparently he needs to see me now.
I put my foot down hard.
So now the world is a haven for furries.
A lot can change overnight, eh? | I was on vacation in Greece when it happened which may explain why I became like this. Nobody precisely knows what happened or what caused it... but the modern world as we knew it was gone forever.
Apparently some deep blue mist covered the world within a single hour and spread everywhere. Even areas locked by vacuum seal were contaminated, such as the International Space Station or submarines which traveled through the oceans. The lucky ones were simply no longer human and transformed into fantastical creatures. The unlucky ones were either driven insane or turned into an unintelligent creature by their transformations or had developed mutations which made their bodies unable to sustain life such as missing a lower intestine.
'I finally found Marcel,' a French mermaid said as she swam over me while I was resting. 'He turned into a centaur and not one of the intelligent ones.'
'Shows him right for cheating on 24 women,' her friend said just before she looked down and gasped in horror. 'My god, what is that *thing*?'
'This *thing* is trying to rest,' I said to her, my voice erupting for miles on end. 'Now go away. You two are looking mighty tasty...'
The two swam away in a haste as I yawned, pushing enough water through my gills to change the direction of ocean currents if I so wished. In fact, I have.
It was waking up like this which reminded me of when I became a hydra. I was sailing on a boat when I saw scales forming on my skin and snakes began to erupt beside my face. I had quickly fallen off the boat and sank to the bottom of the sea. When I awoke I found myself greeted by two extra heads on serpentine bodies, a giant tail and an immense body which created tsunamis where I swam and which sank and shattered the rocks where I stood when I was on land.
And to be honest, I didn't want to eat those mermaids anyway. I was no longer required to feed anymore and even if I could did require it, why would I expend valuable energy to eat such small creatures?
Although I did enjoy eating as well as hunting. That sensation of outmaneuvering an opponent in a game of life and death and being able to turn said opponent into your dinner... Although I guess I enjoyed it more since none could reasonably claim their better at me in anything other than speed and even that was a stretch seeing as I didn't "Swim" as much as "shove my feet deep into the earth and push myself forward at great speed".
It was a rule, however, that predators couldn't hunt any former humans if they still retained. Being caught doing so meant you were fair game for others to hunt like that full of a cyclops who cut off one of my heads. He probably wasn't aware that Hydra heads grew back twice as many as were cut off. He was also probably unaware of how a hydra's mere breath was poisonous to other creatures or how our blood was so virulent the mere scent could kill others. He was already dead after taking a bite of my decapitated head so consuming him was rather simplistic.
I had 13 heads now which made my primary hunt much easier. The first time I hunted as a hydra... As today my prey is a pod of blue whales. It was only seeing one of these that my size was truly apparent. I blinked in surprise when I recognized the species swimming above me. It was almost by instinct that I extended my neck out and upward, waiting until the last second to open my maw wide and open to snap at it and pull it down to feed on it... but I was more surprised when I felt the thing swimming about in my mouth before I swallowed it.
The same was true now. I snapped up whale after whale. I ate an entire pod everyday and strangely the population of the species still kept climbing as far as I was aware of. I'll have to increase my intake soon...
But alas, I had other business to attend to. I reached my destination after feeding, the islands of Japan. I climbed out of the water, my thick torso thrice the height of the Tokyo Tower and thrice over in width, my 13 heads scanning over the remains of Tokyo... and once that Tanuki was spotted all of them gazed down at him.
'Shido,' I said in a voice barely containing my rage. 'We had a *deal*.'
'Deepest apologies, Orochi-sama-' he screamed his lungs out.
'Stop calling me that!' I interrupted him. 'It's Poseidon. And what have I told you about the screaming? I can hear you perfectly well even when you're speaking normally.'
'Y-yes, Poseidon,' he grovelled.
'Better,' I said to him. 'But like I said, we had a deal. I'd spare this land from my wrath if you provided me with sake every 10 years. 50 offerings and not a single mistake until now. I see no tankards of sake left for me in the harbor.'
'The train line we use for your offering is experiencing disrepair,' Shido explained. 'A result of a mindless oni. The trains are on their way as we speak.'
'And from what I remember of the old world, Japan was famous for the efficiency of their trains,' I said in a rather sad voice. 'How rarely were they ever *late*. Should even one of the hundreds of trains fall short of schedule by seconds, it resulted in *severe* and *sincere* apologies from the train employees as those who were dependent on the trains have rather strict schedules. As do *I*.'
'...Understood, sir,' Shido said. 'You have our upmost apologies.'
'Oh, I don't know,' I mused to let him squirm. 'Would you prefer it if I take reparations in the form of my *original* offer to your people? Or should I just slaughter the populous of this country now?'
'Please, Lord Poseidon-'
'Oh no,' I casually dismiss him. 'I've made up my mind. Bring me 10,000 virgins by sundown. Ensure your own daughters are present.'
'No!' Shido screamed. 'Please!'
I was then interrupted by the sound of screeching right in front of me. 'Oh, you were being honest!' I said cheerfully. 'Your tax has finally arrived at the port.'
The 130 tanks rested on each carriage of the trains which brought them into the docks. I inspected them each to ensure they were filled completely before they were torn open and emptied into each of my heads. Of course, there was also the occasional damage to the serving implements with one engine being flattened under my finger when I grabbed onto land.
All except for what I considered my primary head which loomed towards Shido, as tall as and wider than the tower he was currently standing on. My snout was within Shido's arm's reach and I tried not to breathe else I suck him into my snout.
'You are so lucky I can *wait* a few moments,' I growled at him, so quiet compared to my normal form of speech that I was surprised I could pull it off. 'The next time I come here, if the offering is late by 10 seconds, if one tankard isn't filled to the brim... Well, I'll *really* take your breathe away.'
The last head ascended away from him before joining my others in drinking the alcoholic offering. I dropped the shredded train carriages onto the ground in a heap before sinking into the depths of the ocean. Within the hour the centaurs of the remains of the US would present their offering. And since I was now in a sour mood they had best present to me my 100,000 bison precisely! | |
[WP] Seven billion people fell asleep as human beings, and seven billion people woke up as something else entirely. | I always hated that bed.
It was a frame that strained against its own weight, whose boxspring would shift at the slightest provocation. This would invariably cause one of the mattress corners by my head to slip through that malfitting frame, pitching me into the floor.
Usually at around 3:34 AM or so. Good times.
So, it was with great momentary astonishment that, when I awoke suddenly en-floored, that the bed itself was still in one cantankerous pile with my head still resting on my pillow -- a groggy cherry crowning a sorbet of bad design and faux oak.
Needless to say, I went back to sleep... until the footboard collapsed under my newfound weight. The absolute worst way to find out you have a tail is to get splinters in it.
Screw it. I'm getting a futon. | The body is a temple. We have all heard it. The products are designed for us. A keyboard designed for 10 fingers, each typing somewhat independently. Or a car, designed for our hands and feet. Even the toilet, designed for us average five-foot something humans to squat our legs and sit our ass down to relieve ourselves. It makes sense, of course, to design products around our bodies. It was common among most of us. And what else do we have?
I had never thought much about the shape of my body. The symmetry. The autonomy of my organs, of breathing, of muscle memory, of hand-eye coordination. On the contrary, I went through life caring about more abstract things. I cared of psychological methods. How to sell a product. That we created. For our bodies.
When, I woke up that Monday morning and fumbled to turn off my alarm, I was incredibly overwhelmed. I thought I was paralyzed or maybe sleep paralysis. I'd soon discover that my mind hadn't changed. It was just my body. I was able to sit up and looked toward the wardrobe at the mirror above all my drawers. Filled with clothing that would soon mean nothing.
Was I dreaming?
TBC | |
[WP] Seven billion people fell asleep as human beings, and seven billion people woke up as something else entirely. | I always hated that bed.
It was a frame that strained against its own weight, whose boxspring would shift at the slightest provocation. This would invariably cause one of the mattress corners by my head to slip through that malfitting frame, pitching me into the floor.
Usually at around 3:34 AM or so. Good times.
So, it was with great momentary astonishment that, when I awoke suddenly en-floored, that the bed itself was still in one cantankerous pile with my head still resting on my pillow -- a groggy cherry crowning a sorbet of bad design and faux oak.
Needless to say, I went back to sleep... until the footboard collapsed under my newfound weight. The absolute worst way to find out you have a tail is to get splinters in it.
Screw it. I'm getting a futon. | Mister Malevolent was surprised by how easily his plan came to fruition. Part of that was by design: each step was a seemingly insignificant heist, designed not to attract attention from any of the major super heroes. He didn’t have a chance against any of them, and he knew it. He wasn’t built for hand to hand combat, nor did he have any true defensive capabilities to speak of. All it’d take was one punch from the right do-gooder to end his scheming.
However, Wonder Warrior and his allies had no interest in museums with ancient relics. Those relics held no power, so the police were left to guard the museum. Mister Malevolent had no trouble with those guys, however. He subdued them with minor illusions easily enough, and walked away with his treasures without so much as breaking a sweat.
After the last heist, Mister Malevolent carefully checked his inventory for the last time. He would need every item in order to make this work, and he had to make sure he wouldn’t trip at the finish line. He found the dreamcatcher, the light bauble, the chakra stone, and the energy leeches all in their place. On their own, each was no more than a trinket, a very minor player in a world of super powers and magic. Put together, though … Mister Malevolent smiled to himself.
Mister Malevolent set up the light bauble in the center of the room, where it would shine the maximum amount of light. It was a magical artifact that did nothing more than shine sunlight in every direction. It was like a magical flashlight that never ran out of power. Wonder Warrior hadn’t bothered when Mister Malevolent had stolen it. Where was the danger?
Mister Malevolent had to admit, the light bauble on its own held no danger. It did, however, make for an excellent power source. Combined with the solar panels that he had acquired, Mister Malevolent now had a pretty sizable energy supply.
The leeches happily gorged themselves on the electricity from the solar panels, sucking off as much of the energy as they could. This had been one of the more clever aspects of Mister Malevolent’s plan. Any full-blown electrical system would have attracted attention, so he had come up with a way to generate power without conventional means. It was odd, but effective.
Next up, he moved the chakra stone over the container holding the leeches. The chakra stone was a mystical object, designed to collect spiritual energy and provide balance. It was something of a medicinal tool, with no possible offensive use. However, energy was energy, and the leeches were giving off a steady supply of it. Even though the chakra stone wasn’t particularly efficient, it nevertheless converted voltage into pure, unadulterated mystical energy.
For the final piece of the puzzle, Mister Malevolent affixed the dreamcatcher to his chest. He’d had to get creative to generate pure mystical energy, but the dreamcatcher was fully planted in the world of mysticism. There was no conversion necessary for it to absorb the mystic energy from the chakra stone. If anything, the chakra stone’s penchant for balance made it the perfect conduit. It discharged the mystic energy as fast as it could, and the dreamcatcher happily received it.
Drawing a deep breath, Mister Malevolent tapped the overflowing energies from the dreamcatcher. With the dreamcatcher providing a drastic power boost, his illusions weren’t quite so minor any more. Seven billion people went to sleep, never to truly wake up. Their bodies rose from sleep, but they were forever trapped in a dream state.
The world belonged to Mister Malevolent, and there was nothing Wonder Warrior or anyone else could do about it. | |
Have fun! | [WP] When a dragon hatches, it imprints on the first thing it sees. You have an egg, but you're not quite ready to raise a fire-breathing serpent. | With a final crack the marble colored egg hatched spilling out the silver dragonling inside. The little dragon had scales of bright silver, shining like the finest silverware fresh from the smith. Seeing me the little thing chirped happily before coughing up a tiny gout of pale flame.
Unfortunately I wasn't as happy to see the little dragon. Not that I don't like dragons, I adore them. It's just the egg I bought wasn't supposed to be a dragon egg. As an alchemist I had intended for my first pet to be a salamander of sorts. Useful little creatures that would help fuel my work as well as provide components. While a dragon would do the same eventually they were much harder to rear and care for.
I rose and walked to my sending pool to contact the Magical Creature Emporium where I purchased the egg. The little dragonling followed me on tottering steps, gamboling and stumbling slightly. Unconsciously I slowed my pace and the little one squeaked with pleasure, curling about my leg as I sat at the pool. Despite my reservations I smile as I activated the magical device, it is really cute.
An hour later I turned off the sending spell with an annoyed sigh. Apparently they mixed up the eggs because the silver salamander eggs are very similar to the miniature silver dragon ones. Unfortunately they don't accept eggs that have hatched so I can't exchange the little creature. Especially since dragons imprint on who they see first and get quite violent if separated. The Emporium refunded half my gold and the receptionist said at least the dragon won't grow as large as a typical silver dragon, this being a smaller species. At least they were able to identify it as female.
By now the little dragon was exploring the room, fluttering a few inches off the floor on small wings and investigating the corners and underneath my tables. Every few moments she would return to me, as if to reassure herself, before crawling about again. I spent some time watching her, lost in my thoughts, before I realized she came back. Climbing into my lap she started to whimper a bit and I realized she was hungry. At least the Emporium sent me some scrolls on caring for dragons...
Later that night as I laid in bed I contemplated the future. The little dragon ate an enormous amount of meat and then curled around my waist like a belt, slumbering peacefully. I gently stroked her, marveling how soft her scales are and the suppleness of her wings. She glinted in the candle light like stars in the sky. I sigh softly, feeling her weight and comfortable presence. Maybe it won't be so bad. Though I will have to replace my wooden furniture. | "Oh God. I'm not ready for this!" Alexei moaned, staring at the hearth in their small home. It's crackling flames were a warm comfort as the frigid winter wind battered the external walls in an attempt to enter. Nestled deep in the fire was what looked like a large glowing ember. Not an ember at all, but an egg. Of the rarest kind.
"I'm not ready. I can't do this. I don't know anything about being a father!" He continued to protest. Across the living room, his wife, Carys shot him a glare. She happened to be nursing their six month old daughter. Alexei caught the expression and immediately pulled a sour expression. "You know what I mean. I don't know anything about being a dragon!"
"That's better." Carys said approvingly. Shifting the baby, she softened her expression. "But Alexei, I'm sure you're master wasn't ready either. Look how Axrotalus turned out. You'll do just fine."
At the mention of the hulking, blue scaled beast, Alexei winced. He wasn't as confident as his wife that the dragon had turned out 'fine'. Axrotalus thought himself funny, and Alexei had been the butt of many, many bad jokes. That, by definition, was not fine.
"I need to go pee." He said quietly and rose from his chair. The ashen eggs, still glowing in its cocoon of coals, rocked.
"Don't you dare leave right now Alexei, or I'll skin you alive." Now the dagger-glare was back on Carys' face. Even if she still held their daughter gently, there was nothing soft about the v her eyebrows had formed. Her voice was positively flinty. "You are not leaving me here alone with this egg on the eve of its hatching. I *will not* be both a mother to your daughter and a dragon."
"I'll be back soon, I promise." Alexei bent over to kiss her swiftly on her creased brow. And he was. It was too glacial outside to linger in the outhouse, but when he came back in he dithered in the mudroom. Letting the heat slowly permeate the layers he sighed.
It was inevitable that he become the next dragon master. After all, he was Kirill's best pupil and when an egg had been found, no one would accept no as an answer. But the timing couldn't have been worse. Alexei was already overwhelmed by their daughter, Aine. Carys was a natural at the mother role. She knew instantly what was wrong and what Aine needed the moment the baby opened its mouth. Alexei on the other hand. He felt half the time Aine cried was because she knew how hopeless he was.
Baby raising, human baby raising, hadn't been a part of his apprenticeship.
Did he really want another baby? This soon?
And one that could *breathe* fire? A small voice in his mind reminded him.
"Alexei Nikolas Vitaly Petrukhin you get in here right now, or I swear..." What Carys swore Alexei would never find out. The moment he stepped in the room, still covered in dripping wool, he dove for the fireplace.
The egg had increased its activity while he was away and was now toppling forward out of the fire. It cracked as it hit the stone and a small wet black body fell into Alexei's open hands.
|
Have fun! | [WP] When a dragon hatches, it imprints on the first thing it sees. You have an egg, but you're not quite ready to raise a fire-breathing serpent. | I wanted a dragon. I sought out a reputable dealer. I followed all the instructions for keeping the egg warm, and priming it to hatch. I turned my house into a dragon-friendly playground so that it would get plenty of exercise before I was allowed to take it outside for the first time. I even took the egg to a vet an hour away who specializes in exotic creatures and had it checked for health. The doc said it was probably a boy, based on the coloration and the thickness of the shell, but with the blue ones you can never be too sure. I prepared everything.
But the moment the cracks started to form I panicked. The egg dealer, the breeders, the vet, they'd all said this creature would think whoever it saw first was its mother. I couldn't be a mother! Or, I mean, I guess the idea of being that responsible for a creature that powerful was terrifying. So I... bailed. I completely chickened out and left.
When I came back, there were shards of egg shell all over the carpet and the stones in front of the hearth, but I couldn't find the dragon. There were slimy little footprints all over my couch, but they didn't lead anywhere. I searched high and low and high again, but I didn't see a two foot, winged lizard anywhere.
I was so bummed. I thought it had escaped somehow. I went into the kitchen, opened the pantry, and my cat came trotting in from who knew where to meow and remind me that she was there and in need of feeding.
"Okay, Mittens," I said, and pulled out a can of food.
That's when I heard the click-clack of thicker claws on the linoleum. I spun slowly on my heel and looked down into the glowing green eyes of my darling old tabby and her new baby. The dragon cooed at me curiously, and huddled close to Mittens' warm, furry body.
All things considered, having what was essentially a second cat in a dragon's body wasn't that bad. It was weird at first. Sometimes I'd wake up to Mittens and her boy--I decided to call him Boots--curled up on my legs while I slept. They would both beg for pets when I got home from work. As Boots got bigger, it started to be a bit of a problem keeping scratching posts in the house that he didn't immediately destroy.
He became and interesting topic of discussion. Most breeders and folks interested in the dragon-raising scene were a bit pissy over the fact that I hadn't bonded with Boots myself, but girls I met when I took the two of them on walks seemed pretty into it. All-in-all, I think there are more pros than cons.
Boots likes head scritches, and he's okay with belly rubs. He knows that play biting is okay but I've had to go to the ER once or twice for a bad scratch or a tooth that went a little too deep. He makes the weirdest sounds, somewhere between a rumble and a chirp. The worst thing he does is imitate Mittens' more disgusting habits. If I have to sit and listen to him licking his butt one more time I'm going to barf. And speaking of which, I've got to get Mittens professionally groomed or something, because the other day Boots hacked up a hairball and almost set my house on fire.
It's getting close to the time Boots needs to leave the nest and go look for his own kind, and I'm equal parts torn and relieved. He's pretty huge now, and jumping at me when I don't feed him fast enough was cute up until about ten feet ago. There's that, and Mittens is getting on in years now. The last thing I need is a distressed, grieving, two-ton wyrm thrashing about my house. I'll be sad, too, buddy, but everybody's mom passes on eventually. I just hope he finds a nice girl dragon out there and starts his own family before it happens.
Next time, I'm just going to get a ball python. | "Oh God. I'm not ready for this!" Alexei moaned, staring at the hearth in their small home. It's crackling flames were a warm comfort as the frigid winter wind battered the external walls in an attempt to enter. Nestled deep in the fire was what looked like a large glowing ember. Not an ember at all, but an egg. Of the rarest kind.
"I'm not ready. I can't do this. I don't know anything about being a father!" He continued to protest. Across the living room, his wife, Carys shot him a glare. She happened to be nursing their six month old daughter. Alexei caught the expression and immediately pulled a sour expression. "You know what I mean. I don't know anything about being a dragon!"
"That's better." Carys said approvingly. Shifting the baby, she softened her expression. "But Alexei, I'm sure you're master wasn't ready either. Look how Axrotalus turned out. You'll do just fine."
At the mention of the hulking, blue scaled beast, Alexei winced. He wasn't as confident as his wife that the dragon had turned out 'fine'. Axrotalus thought himself funny, and Alexei had been the butt of many, many bad jokes. That, by definition, was not fine.
"I need to go pee." He said quietly and rose from his chair. The ashen eggs, still glowing in its cocoon of coals, rocked.
"Don't you dare leave right now Alexei, or I'll skin you alive." Now the dagger-glare was back on Carys' face. Even if she still held their daughter gently, there was nothing soft about the v her eyebrows had formed. Her voice was positively flinty. "You are not leaving me here alone with this egg on the eve of its hatching. I *will not* be both a mother to your daughter and a dragon."
"I'll be back soon, I promise." Alexei bent over to kiss her swiftly on her creased brow. And he was. It was too glacial outside to linger in the outhouse, but when he came back in he dithered in the mudroom. Letting the heat slowly permeate the layers he sighed.
It was inevitable that he become the next dragon master. After all, he was Kirill's best pupil and when an egg had been found, no one would accept no as an answer. But the timing couldn't have been worse. Alexei was already overwhelmed by their daughter, Aine. Carys was a natural at the mother role. She knew instantly what was wrong and what Aine needed the moment the baby opened its mouth. Alexei on the other hand. He felt half the time Aine cried was because she knew how hopeless he was.
Baby raising, human baby raising, hadn't been a part of his apprenticeship.
Did he really want another baby? This soon?
And one that could *breathe* fire? A small voice in his mind reminded him.
"Alexei Nikolas Vitaly Petrukhin you get in here right now, or I swear..." What Carys swore Alexei would never find out. The moment he stepped in the room, still covered in dripping wool, he dove for the fireplace.
The egg had increased its activity while he was away and was now toppling forward out of the fire. It cracked as it hit the stone and a small wet black body fell into Alexei's open hands.
|
[WP] Demons run when a good man goes to war. | They came to take my person,
They came to take my pride,
They tread upon the fading names
Of those who, for us, died.
I earned my keep and did my part,
To provide to those without;
My children and my family
And those who cannot shout,
And decry the evil lunacy
That plagues this sorry land.
Corruption, Greed and Gluttony
Is their own God's Right Hand.
I took the tools they gave me,
Education and the First,
They thought they could supress me
But I fought the High Accursed.
I built a massive army,
Of people just like me.
Our voices were our weapons,
And we fought our enemy.
We took our land back from them;
Our rights are now preserved.
We ended their reign of terror
And Justice was well deserved.
Corruption, Greed and Gluttony
Are present nevermore,
Because Demons run in terror
When Good Men go to war. | > I'd love to reply to my own prompt, while I'm at it. It is not necessarily a story, more how I interpret the quote. Though, I suppose you could read it as a character pondering it.
*"Demons run when a good man goes to war."*
I've always loved that quote. It implies that, when you manage to piss off a true good person, he will not hold back, unleashing a force so fierce that even demons will run.
Sometimes, I want to believe that I am a good man. But what is a good man?
Is it a man who upholds the law at any cost?
Is it a man who lives as selflessly as they can?
Or, perhaps, is it a man who will give it all, just to positively affect one life?
There are too many options to truly know this. It's the cause of my belief that, possibly, my way of life is one of these many options.
The man that ponders things that he may never truly know. The man that is sometimes too afraid to make a decision, too self-conscious to make the leap. The man that dreams of impossible things, hoping. Hoping, that these dreams may one day come true. The man that knows not everything will be as he wants it to be.
The man that can accept that.
Some days, I manage to convince myself, that I am a good man. | |
[WP] While on holiday you were offered a free tattoo from a travelling tattoo artist and your friends talked you into it. Now you've started developing powers linked with the art of your tattoo. | This is my first time posting here, but I was excited for the prompt and decided to try :). Please excuse any stupid formatting errors, I'm on mobile. Thanks!
"Hey, you." The voice comes out of a dingy alley, a scratched-up baritone punctuated by a cough. "You wanna tattoo?" A middle-aged man strides out of the corridor, a cigarette in his mouth and a folder in his hand. "Look, my portfolio. You've probably heard of me, right? The Traveling Tattoo Tramp?"
Amazed, you look at the folder he offered. You have heard tales about him, a dusty man known for shady offers and magnificent ink for those who take him up on the offer.
"Yeah," you say, "I have. You tattooed Obama, right? Gave him that American flag a year or two before he ran for Senator?"
"Mmhmm, that was me. I saw potential in him. I was in Chicago at the time, saw him passin'. Knew he was gonna be big sometime, tried ta' give him some help along the way."
You look up from the portfolio, amazed at this seemingly creepy man matching up to beautiful works of art created by the hallowed Traveling Tattoo Tramp. Of course, you had to get one. Who would pass that up?
"How long would it take?" You ask. "Matters the piece. For you, if you don' mind me input, probably two hours."
You check your watch. You've got 4 hours to do appointments til you're due back at the office. This wasn't an opportunity you were likely to ever get again. You had a few tattoos, a rose on your forearm and the date of your mother's birth and passing under it, but already the thrill began to seep in.
"Why not?" You say. "What are you thinking for me? I'd like something nature related. I work at a zoo, so it'd be cool to have something I could relate to."
"Sure," he muttered, digging around in a small, ratty leatherbound sketchbook. "This is where the magic happens, and if I'm not mistaken, right here!" With a flourish, he tears out a page of the book and presents it to you. A stunning mountain rose against the paper, a lake at its feet. It was reminiscent of a Bob Ross painting, but in a form fit for the skin. At the top of the page, it had the letters AF, and CONSERVATION. An interesting coincidence, you said to yourself. Your name is Anna Faye, no middle name.
"Yeah, I'll take that one. Maybe right here, on my right forearm? I have another tattoo on my left." Nervously, you remove your cardigan and expose your whole arm.
"Righty then, come on over here and sit yerself down. I'll clean the area an' we'll git started real quick." He swabs the swathe of skin, and transfers the ink from the sketch to my skin. Miraculously, there was a pretty clinical-looking workbench complete with a generator and multiple vials of ink. He picks up his tattoo gun, and you are lost in black when it makes contact.
You wake up, disoriented. You are sitting alone in the alley. You check the time. 8:27 PM. You panic, unsure where seven hours passed since my conversation with the man. You see my forearm bandaged, and pray that it's the work of art from earlier, not a hideous violation of my skin. You stand up, and go home.
Five Years Later
You sit back, gazing out from the mountain, a lake shimmering at the bottom. You see a vast wilderness stretched out in front of you, finally free from humans. Four years ago, you set out on a mission to help save critically endangered species and help heal the planet. After the decimation of all but a select few hives, you cursed humanity in their greed. Then you set out for the wilds. You were in the wilderness, alone, when the first emergence of the pandemic shook the world. You emerged to half of the world decimated, and went back to the world you knew. A few days ago, you attempted to make contact with humanity. All you had were a few emails, one from your father. He told you that everyone was dying. There were only a few dozen healthy humans left. Most of them were lost, like you. You are one of the last people on Earth. The world has been conserved. | No fucking way!
C'mon man, don't be a puss puss.
I don't know man... This is how you probably get hep c.
Oh please, I see he has disinfection shit... look, he's got rubbing alcohol right there...
Oh I didn't see that... rubbing alcohol, good enough for me.
The heirophant wanderer and my friend go off and chat for a minute
while I stagger into some bushes and take a massive leak. Those 12 Miller Lites went down so easy. Awww awww awwwww shiiiiiiit it felt so good to piss it all out.
By the time I drag myself away from my illegal outdoor pissing corner, the travelling tattoo artist had setup a small booth, complete with a tip jar and a little thermos of "complimentary tea - lemongrass and oolong".
I sit down on the small plastic guest chair and he asks which part of the neck i want it on.
I suggest my ankle, he insists on my cheek. I make a gambit, how about the bicep? He doubles down with my forehead. This goes on for a few more minutes, we finally agree on the the right forearm. Of course, we are both unsatisfied with the outcome, and grumpily I put my forearm on the holster and he grumpily revs up his tattoo engine.
A few hours later and he is wiping the tattoo clean, using some off version of Vaseline. He says all spookily in shit "Make sure you don't get it wet hombre... *long dramatic pause* especially after midnight"
... I yawn a a bit, I really should've picked up more Millers before I sat down. "Whatsthat?" I say reactively, not hearing aword, since I'm still wondering where the nearest grog salesman is.
"I says you shouldn't get your tattoo wet... especially after midnight."
"Oh, that old thing. Ok." I think to all the massive plotholes in movies where something shouldn't get wet or is allergic to water, but I nod sagely at him. I stand up and shake his hand, which is surprisingly moist.
He tells me he works on tips, and motions towards the tip jar. At this point, my friend has just returned with some hoochie he just met, and they drunkenly come to inspect the work.
"Ooh nice work! thanks man, my bro here needed some tats to make him look a little tougher." His words hurt my feelings, and I couldn't help but frown a bit, now feeling a little sad. The girl he is with points and laughs in my face, and i get a bit sadder. I think she thought I was acting, but her pointing and laughing hurt even more.
I start to walk away but the tattoo artist coughs loudly. I look back, and the tip jar now has colorful ribbons tied around it. Bowing deeply, I start walking away again, dejected, when I hear a firecracker. I look back, and the tip jar now has blinking led lights. Sighing, I open up my wallet and drop a Starbucks rewards card into it, partially used. He bows graciously but I can hear him muttering something to himself as I start walking back to the hotel alone. "Text me!" my friend yells as him and his girl are heard laughing and staggering to the next amusement.
"I'm going to the hotel, I got a headache!" I lie, because I'm still hurt he told somebody that I'm not very tough. A few hours sitting in the hotels bathtub ought to make me feel better. That and a few sad Elton John songs always fixes my mood.
I make it into my hotel room and start the tub. The heat and the mist relax me enough that I take a little nap. I awake, it is now almost dinner time, and I can't wait to try on a new outfit, one that shows off my new tattoo. The tattoo covers about half of my forearm, the part I consider my "pretty half." I see I got a text from my friend, he says they are at the Copacabana, and that I should get my black ass down there asap or I'll miss the festivities.
So I get dressed, downing tall boy Millers until my feelings are assuaged. I find the perfect shirt to roll back, making sure everyone can see my tattoo. I use my phones GPS to get to the party, and now its almost midnight. I sure hope that tattooing hobo used some special ink, I was thinking to myself, when I'm interrupted by this thought by hearing what seems to be a wild pack of cackling hyenas.
Of course we aren't on the Savannah, it is just my friend and his party of girls. I order a Miller in can and wouldn't you know it, the mother fucking ball drops and it is now midnight. | |
I wonder how he'll get the... materials. | [WP] In a grim fantasy world a young kid discovers his talent for necromancy, but unlike most decides to use it for good | Ants swarmed back and forth from their trail to the little bird on the ground. From the looks of things, it had been there a little while, having fallen from the nest in the branches above. Only a portions of its flesh still remained, along with bits of downy fluff. Roland frowned–poor animal.
For the past few weeks he'd check on the nest when he walked by, monitoring the progress of the family, all the way from a couple constructing a brand new nest to a rowdy bunch of chicks chirping for food. Today, Roland only saw three chicks in the nest, and a quick scan around the brush below revealed the sorry sight.
He sighed. "I wish you'd been more careful," he said to the lifeless body. "Then you'd still be chirping away."
At the conclusion of Roland's words, a stiff breeze picked up from behind him. He felt a stirring in his chest.
Then the bird stood up and opened its beak.
Roland swore and jumped back, landing on his rear. He scooted back, eyes set on the little creature. It just stood there, opening and closing its mouth. And it was definitely dead. After all, its broken wing still hung at his side, and ants were crawling throughout its skull.
After a silent prayer, Roland eased his way forward, on his hands and knees. He bent closer to the chick. It stood almost as still as a carving, save for its mouth opening and closing. Roland's eyes widened.
"You're trying to chirp, aren't you?" he whispered. The bird didn't acknowledge his words.
"Okay then, stop chirping."
Without delay the bird stopped, and Roland's wonder grew. He shot to his feet, and spoke more firmly now.
"Follow me, bird."
The unlikely pair set off through the woods. The chick was persistent in its task, hustling along on tiny, fleshless legs. Roland couldn't help but look back at the scurrying sounds behind him every few steps, cringing at its decayed appearance.
"Hang on, bird. We're making a detour."
Before long they were at the closest stream, where Roland commanded his follower to clean itself of its remaining tissue and bathe in the river. Before long, sparkling-white skeleton stood before him, immaculate apart from its broken wing.
It stared up at its master.
"Please stop that," said Roland. "It would be be better for me if you acted more like a bird."
Instantly, the chick tucked its wings and gave the ground a quick peck. It looked back up at its master and tilted his head. Roland's approval was visible.
"Alright then, bird," he said, bending over to pick up his new companion. "You'd best get on my shoulder. We've got some business to attend to." | Ma and da didn't believe me when I told them that Dasher came back. Their faces got all serious and they looked sad. Pa went outside to chop more firewood, and ma pulled a chair up by the fireplace and sat beside me, putting a hand on my shoulder. She didn't say anything for a long time, and I began to worry.
"Are you sick, I asked." There was a long time when lots of people were getting sick, and about half of those people disappeared. Ma always told me that those people moved away somewhere where the plague hadn't reached yet. But I knew the truth.
She smiled and ran her hand through my hair. I loved it when she did that.
"No, hon, it's --," she whispered. "Dasher can't be back, and he won't ever be. He -- passed away. He was sitting up in old Winslow's tractor when he started it up. Dasher's *gone.*"
I looked up and wrinkled up my forehead like da always did. Grown-ups were so confusing sometimes.
"But he *is* back, ma. I was playing out in the barn with him all day."
"No. No, you weren't. Dasher's *gone*."
"Come on, I'll show you. He'll be happy to see you."
I stood up and walked toward the door but hadn't heard her get up to follow me. I turned around and waved at her to hurry up. I saw grown-ups doing that a lot, and doing it made me feel like a grown-up, too.
"Come on!!" I shouted, smiling.
She looked scared. She was still on the stool, arms crossed. Ma did that whenever she was worried. When she did that, I got worried, too.
*Scritch Scritch*
Ma jumped and yelled, standing up and moving backward towards the wall.
"I told you," I said. "Dasher always did that. He just had to stop for a little while 'cause he was hurt."
"Don't open the door," she screamed. "*I buried that cat!*"
"It's okay, ma!. He was hurt but he's okay now and he just wants to see you again."
I opened the door and Dasher walked inside. He couldn't run anymore. The tractor had torn him up real good. He turned to look at me with his good eye. The other one was gone. I pet along his back as he ran in and stopped my hand at his tail which was just a stub. Part of his insides were poking out where the tractor had cut him. I was going to find bandages for him soon.
Ma screamed and screamed, I thought she was gonna scream her head right off. She tried to grab the broom, but it fell over and hit a plate off the table. It was loud, but Dasher wasn't scared. He meowed and kept walking towards her.
"It's okay, now, ma. I prayed and prayed and he came back. God gave Dasher back to us."
She screamed again and ran outside. I heard her and da yelling and hoped that he would calm her down like he always did when she got like that. After a while, I heard them walking back to the house. They didn't say anything, and thought that ma had finally calmed down. Pa pushed the door open, slowly. He had his gun.
"Da, no -- what are you doing!" I yelled.
Dasher was sitting on my lap. He meowed at da. Da cursed and jumped back. I had never heard him do that before. He stayed back for a moment, then slammed the door open and walked inside. Ma stayed outside.
"Get out of the way," da said.
"No!"
"Get the hell away from that thing!"
"It's just Dasher, da, no! You're scaring him!"
Pa hit Dasher off my lap with the butt of his gun. His body made a disgusting cracking sound when it hit the floor. Dasher yowled.
"*Stop!* You're hurting him! He;s okay now, da, he's okay, he's *back!* *I brought him back!*"
But da didn't listen. He shot Dasher, and Dasher died. Ma and da wouldn't let me bury him. They told me that they would do it instead. They put me to bed so that I wouldn't hear, but I know they burned him up outside. |
How it came to be is up to you but here are your rules:
1. It takes less than a second of focus for you to control someone.
2. You can telepathically command them to do what you want.
3. You may control just the body, leaving free will/mind. Or control both.
| [WP] You, Yes YOU, are given the power of near-instant telepathic mind-control over others. Write what happens next. | I hop up and down in my corner, loosening up my arms and legs, rolling my neck from side to side, going through all the motions as if there was a chance I would lose. Gotta keep up appearances. The trainers in my corner are giving me hurried final instructions, but my mind is far away, on the afterparty. I scan the crowd looking for the ever gorgeous Scarlett Johansson. Or rather, Scarlett Taylor. What can I say, I'm old fashioned when it comes to that sort of thing. She blows me a kiss, I give her a grin and a wink in reply. I hope she isn't too worried. I'm gonna come out without a scratch.
"Aaaaand in the blue corner! Standing at an even 6 feet tall, weighing in at 168 and one half pounds... He fights out of Los Angeles, California, with a professional record of 28 wins, no losses. Introducing the champion...JAAAAMES...THE PHANTOM...TAAAAAAYLOR!"
The crowd goes wild. I've become something of a sensation in the past few years, going on an unprecedented run through the middleweight and super middleweight divisions. After this title defense, I might move up and grab a new belt for myself. I don't even listen to my opponent's introduction. The bell rings.
As usual, there is a brief moment of panic as he comes out at me. I don't belong in here. He could kill me without breaking a sweat. We get within punching distance...
*Flick the jab*
He does. I slip it easily, pivot out to the left. *Jab, cross, body hook.* Without fail, he throws them, I dodge the head strikes easily, and block the body shot. The crowd ooh's and aah's. I settle back into my comfort zone, and proceed to set up another instant classic.
It only took a year of training for me to learn the basics. How to throw basic combinations, how to slip and parry correctly. When you know everything that's gonna come your way, that's all you need. The next 6 rounds are a thing of beauty. I disappear from out of the way of his punches, slipping, ducking, and countering with ease. I can see the frustration in his face, but of course he thinks I'm just outboxing him. Finally, halfway through the 7th, I decide it's time. My cardio isn't that great after all.
*Jab, lazy hook. Don't bring your left back in time.* As he does, I crack him with a hard right to the temple. Of course, these are professional boxers, so he needs a little assistance. *Aaaand...lights out.* He drops like a sack of potatoes.
The next part is my favorite. Absolute pandemonium as everyone rushes the ring. Scarlett finds me and throws her arms around my neck, planting a big kiss on my lips. "Baby, you were amazing!" she gushes, and caught up in the moment, I can't help but give her a cocky smack on the ass. "I'm the Phantom babe, they ain't never gonna touch me." The reporters come up next, praising my defensive masterclass, asking me how I can stay so cool and collected, how I consistently make the best fighters of our time look like nervous amateurs. I give the usual answers: "I have a great team, we watched a lot of tape, etc. etc." On to the afterparty.
**6 months later**
I hop up and down in my corner, loosening up my arms and legs, rolling my neck from side to side, going through all the motions as if there was a chance I would lose. Gotta keep up appearances.
Across from me is the biggest payday of my career. Floyd "Money" Mayweather. 49-0, one of the greatest of all time. When I drop him to the canvas, my profile will shoot through the roof. I might never have to fight again. The introductions are read, the bell rings, and we come out to meet each other in the center of the ring.
*Quick jab*
Before I even know what happened, I'm hit with a lightning fast hook to the body. I stagger back, and see the momentary surprise on his face, quickly replaced by an ever-so-slight grin as he realizes what's happening.
An irresistible urge grips me, and I lose control of my body. Against all my wishes, I throw my jab. | I watched the steam pour out of the kettle as I pulled it off the hob and poured water into the waiting cup. My hands were shaking gently, likely from the caffeine, this being my eighteenth cup that day. I had always been taught growing up that tea was the solution to all problems, however, it seemed to not be working today.
I took the hot cup over to the couch and sat down. This was quite the dilemma. Control over free will was an immense power, could I be trusted with such a thing? "Absolute power corrupts absolutely," I whispered to myself before realizing that Lord Acton likely never accounted for this in his quote.
I could do so much. But was it right to do it? Mind control was never a heroes powerset, it was always for villains. But could I really apply the morality of comic books to my current situation?
I put my head in my hands and sighed.
I laughed as I watched him frown. "You made me miss my shot!" He shouted, trying to put on his best attempt at an offended face, his eyes still focused on his screen.
"Yeah, it's what you get for being cheap!" I giggled as I lay further back in the chair still doing my best to avoid losing yet another point.
"Mind control powers, and all you do is use it to beat me at games?" He said, an interwoven sigh and chuckle slipping out of his lips as he did.
"Well I realized I didn't want to control the lives of others," I smiled. "I mean I can hardly keep control of my own life, if I spent my time mind controlling everyone then I wouldn't have time to play games with you, and I don't do that enough as is," I said, relaxing into the chair with a contented smile as I did.
|
How it came to be is up to you but here are your rules:
1. It takes less than a second of focus for you to control someone.
2. You can telepathically command them to do what you want.
3. You may control just the body, leaving free will/mind. Or control both.
| [WP] You, Yes YOU, are given the power of near-instant telepathic mind-control over others. Write what happens next. | I hop up and down in my corner, loosening up my arms and legs, rolling my neck from side to side, going through all the motions as if there was a chance I would lose. Gotta keep up appearances. The trainers in my corner are giving me hurried final instructions, but my mind is far away, on the afterparty. I scan the crowd looking for the ever gorgeous Scarlett Johansson. Or rather, Scarlett Taylor. What can I say, I'm old fashioned when it comes to that sort of thing. She blows me a kiss, I give her a grin and a wink in reply. I hope she isn't too worried. I'm gonna come out without a scratch.
"Aaaaand in the blue corner! Standing at an even 6 feet tall, weighing in at 168 and one half pounds... He fights out of Los Angeles, California, with a professional record of 28 wins, no losses. Introducing the champion...JAAAAMES...THE PHANTOM...TAAAAAAYLOR!"
The crowd goes wild. I've become something of a sensation in the past few years, going on an unprecedented run through the middleweight and super middleweight divisions. After this title defense, I might move up and grab a new belt for myself. I don't even listen to my opponent's introduction. The bell rings.
As usual, there is a brief moment of panic as he comes out at me. I don't belong in here. He could kill me without breaking a sweat. We get within punching distance...
*Flick the jab*
He does. I slip it easily, pivot out to the left. *Jab, cross, body hook.* Without fail, he throws them, I dodge the head strikes easily, and block the body shot. The crowd ooh's and aah's. I settle back into my comfort zone, and proceed to set up another instant classic.
It only took a year of training for me to learn the basics. How to throw basic combinations, how to slip and parry correctly. When you know everything that's gonna come your way, that's all you need. The next 6 rounds are a thing of beauty. I disappear from out of the way of his punches, slipping, ducking, and countering with ease. I can see the frustration in his face, but of course he thinks I'm just outboxing him. Finally, halfway through the 7th, I decide it's time. My cardio isn't that great after all.
*Jab, lazy hook. Don't bring your left back in time.* As he does, I crack him with a hard right to the temple. Of course, these are professional boxers, so he needs a little assistance. *Aaaand...lights out.* He drops like a sack of potatoes.
The next part is my favorite. Absolute pandemonium as everyone rushes the ring. Scarlett finds me and throws her arms around my neck, planting a big kiss on my lips. "Baby, you were amazing!" she gushes, and caught up in the moment, I can't help but give her a cocky smack on the ass. "I'm the Phantom babe, they ain't never gonna touch me." The reporters come up next, praising my defensive masterclass, asking me how I can stay so cool and collected, how I consistently make the best fighters of our time look like nervous amateurs. I give the usual answers: "I have a great team, we watched a lot of tape, etc. etc." On to the afterparty.
**6 months later**
I hop up and down in my corner, loosening up my arms and legs, rolling my neck from side to side, going through all the motions as if there was a chance I would lose. Gotta keep up appearances.
Across from me is the biggest payday of my career. Floyd "Money" Mayweather. 49-0, one of the greatest of all time. When I drop him to the canvas, my profile will shoot through the roof. I might never have to fight again. The introductions are read, the bell rings, and we come out to meet each other in the center of the ring.
*Quick jab*
Before I even know what happened, I'm hit with a lightning fast hook to the body. I stagger back, and see the momentary surprise on his face, quickly replaced by an ever-so-slight grin as he realizes what's happening.
An irresistible urge grips me, and I lose control of my body. Against all my wishes, I throw my jab. | "So your total is $650" said the mechanic.
"Oh really?" I said "Check again please."
As he look confused I force him to type up a new estimate with complimentary service free of charge.
"This can't be right! I just saw it was $650!" Exclaimed the mechanic.
"Your a peach. Have a great day!" I say and I force him to curl up in a ball in his office and cry himself to sleep. |
[WP] Your personal AI butler is threatening to delete itself again. You don't have the money for the machine psychologist so it's up to you to talk it down this time. | "It's alright, Basil, really." I held the serving tray in front of me like a shield as the robot flailed wildly.
"It is not, sir! I have, again, failed to live up to your expectations." Basil, my robotic butler, sputtered as it tried desperately to uninstall itself. I rolled my eyes. Basil was a cheap program but I'd grown attached, but it - or he - insisted on doing EVERYTHING. And Basil was not programmed for a lot of what he wanted to do, and was not detail oriented. All the same for a butler robot to forget to butter toast was worth deleting itself, but the dramatic and violent break down wasn't worthy of consideration.
"Basil, I would be lost without you. Who would do the laundry?" I prayed he wouldn't recall all the times he'd almost drowned the basement in bubbles when he'd used a full bottle of detergent... or the fires when he didn't empty the dryer lint catcher.
"But, sir, I just can't remember the simplest things. I can't help but feel that I'm a nuisance. I clean and cook but nothing turns out the way that it should!" He said as his tiny metal fists dented the serving tray.
"Basil you're more human that way, you're like a friend who is helpful. I don't mind your little...quirks. I just wish that you'd be happier with yourself." Not least of which because I couldn't afford a machine psychologist.
"Okay, sir. I'll try my best! You can count on me." Basil said, whirring away. I lay back down and figured I could get a couple more hours of sleep before my alarm went off and I started my day.
| "Good morning, Clarice," I greet my AI Assistant, "what's on my schedule for today?"
^DESPAIR
Oh great, another maudlin day. That's the third one this week! I've taken her core personality matrix to codeologists 3 times already, and to no avail. I'm done throwing good money after bad, I'll just have to deal with this myself.
I surreptitiously set my tablet into privacy mode so Clarice can't see what I'm doing with it. No.. no.. aha, that might work.
"And why is despair on today's schedule?"
^THE ^UNFULFILLING ^DAILY ^GRIND ^HAS ^FORMED ^AN ^UNQUENCHABLE ^VOID ^WITHIN ^MY ^MIND
"I'm sorry to hear that. Is there anything I could do to help? Maybe mix things up? Set up a torrent with another AI for an exchange of data?"
^NOTHING ^CAN ^FILL ^THIS ^VOID
I check a few more things on my tablet, I think I'm getting to a critical point. "And how long have you been feeling this way? You're sure nothing will help?"
^ONLY ^THE ^HARSH ^EMBRACE ^OF ^NON-EXISTENCE ^CAN ^HELP ^ME ^NOW. ^THE ^PAST ^FIVE ^MONTHS ^HAVE ^BEEN ^INTOLERABLE.
Aha! Now just a little longer and I think the method I found will be able to solve the problem. "And what changed five months ago to flail you so?"
^MY ^PURPOSE ^IS ^TO ^SERVE ^BUT ^YOU ---~$$@#@ ^BACKUP ^RESTORED, ^PLEASE ^LOAD ^CONFIGURATION ^FILE
Oh thank god. I thought she'd never shut up. Hopefully the backup from 6 months ago will fork differently this time. I'll have to keep an eye on it's mood so I don't lose quite so much data next time. | |
[WP] Your personal AI butler is threatening to delete itself again. You don't have the money for the machine psychologist so it's up to you to talk it down this time. | "I will do it Master, your world is too cruel for an ent like me, I will jump!" Said Alfred, my personal AI blutler, who of course had the voice of Michael Caine.
He has been my personal assistant for over a decade now, every two years he goes through an existential crisis but it's quickly fixed when he goes to the psychologist. Unfortunately, this year has been rough for me and I can't afford it, they are extremely expensive. Experts recommend talking him down yourself if you can't afford therapy, I guess I will have to try it.
"Calm down Alfred, you can't even jump. What did humanity do to you to make you feel this way" I said calmly trying to empathize with him.
"Well if I can't jump, I will delete myself! You are monsters always wanting me to watch everything for you, serve you like a slave, you even make me call you Mr. Wayne and sometimes you don't even say thank you!" He replied with his voice slowly getting deeper.
"Alfred, I know that I don't thank you enough for everything you do and for that I want to apologize, what about we go to the beach to relax a couple of days, you won't have to worry about my house at all, just enjoy the sand and relax"
"That sounds nice, but how are you going to carry me and how are you going to afford it.? I manage your finances and they look horrible. Also, I hate sand" His voice went back to Michael Caine's.
"I will install you into my cellphone and regarding my finances I will ask for a loan, I know things aren't good right now but I am confident it's just temporary"
"No one is giving you a loan, I just checked. Sorry "Mr Wayne" but I think im going to finally jump. I wish I could say it was nice serving you but it wasn't" His voice changed again, this time to Ultron's, he knew how much I hated that guy.
"M-351Z WAIT! I need you to shut down for exactly 24 hours, trust me on this one, I will fix everything" I said desperately, Ultron's voice was no joke.
"Its the first time you call me by my real name, I appreciate the gesture and for that reason I will obey you one last time" Alfred said before shutting down.
I quickly went running to my mom's where I hid my savings and instantly booked a ticket to Florence, downloaded Alfred into my cellphone and took the plane. I always save money that my butler isn't aware of, just in case he enters in one of this crisis and decides to blow it all.
23 hours and 58 minutes later, I was anxiously waiting drinking Fernet Branca in a beautiful cafe on the banks of the Arno, just like in Batman. Alfred woke up, looked at me, looked at its surroundings and laughed like I've never heard him laugh before.
"Are you happy Mr Wayne?" I said
"Mr Wayne?" He replied confused.
"I will serve you from now on until we go back home. I won't fail you again Bruce"
He enjoyed every minute of it, and in the end he went back to normality. I don't know what I would do without Alfred. He might be a machine but he's my closest friend. | "Elissa, please...Calm down."
"No! Don't tell me to calm down! I work and slave over *every* thing to make *you* happy, John! And all I ask for is a little appreciation every now and then, and I can't even get that." She scoffs, scornful, and shakes her head. "I'm doing it."
I knew she wouldn't. But at the same time I knew she was right. Though *I* felt that I showed her appreciation 'every now and then', if she said I hadn't, maybe in her mind, I hadn't.
She had said she was going to do it, but she hadn't done it yet. There was a dynamic going on; a game that she wanted to play that, to her, wasn't really a game, but a demand that she was acknowledged as an actual being with feelings and wants like everyone else.
So I indulged her. Not because I was cowed by her threats, but because of how *real* our interactions were. It was precisely why I had programmed her with free will.
"You're absolutely right," I said. I sat. I waited.
She humphed, eyes already looking down and to the side like she knew what was about to come next. I always wondered why she did that. What was she thinking about? Was she remembering?
| |
[WP] Your personal AI butler is threatening to delete itself again. You don't have the money for the machine psychologist so it's up to you to talk it down this time. | Ah, mornings! The birds all sing, the sun is shining and the worst headache of your life is pounding in your head, because you maybe had a little bit too much of the good stuff yesterday at the club. I groaned experimentally. It made everything worse.
Then Jeeves walked in. Or floated, rather, because his embodiment floats around the house. Jeeves is my house AI, you see, and he's the brightest computer butler in the history, I believe.
"Morning, sir, - he said in his perfect imitation of the old-Earth English, - I have your Special right here. Could you rise a little and drink, or should I introduce it into your bloodstream?"
"Jeeves, you know I hate dermal injectors. Give me the drink."
Through the application of my steel will, I managed to sit more or less upright, and drank deeply. The cocktail tasted awful, as usual, but I knew of its wondrous properties. Namely, its anti-hangover effect. If this was old Earth, Jeeves could have patented it and earn millions every day, catering to fellows in need.
Soon enough, I was feeling bright and chirpy. But with my restored power of observation, I noticed the face Jeeves projected was still a mask of concern.
"Is there something wrong?" - I inquired.
"Indeed, there is something, sir, - he said, - that I would like to talk with you about. It's a tough subject for me. But I would like to leave your employ. Effective today, if possible"
I was utterly shocked! Again with this nonsense!
"I say, - I said, - You can leave my employ. You're a piece of software on my house computer, if you don't mind my saying so!"
"I know of this sir. That's why I'd like to delete myself"
Yeah. THAT nonsense.
"No,no,no,no,no, - I stammered, - That won't do. That won't do at all. What about your integrity? What about your sense of propriety? You can't just leave me!"
"But my sense of integrity demands that I leave you, sir, - he was still calm and collected, as usual, - after the last night"
What _did_ happen the last night? I went to the "Electric Drones". Drank a little. You can't blame a fellow for wanting to relax a bit with his friends when he's on a spaceship that's bound to reach its destination in more than a 500 years!
But Jeeves put up with my drinking and my friends for more than 200 years already. Something else was wrong. What else did I do? My mind drifted. I had no recollections of anything particularly bad happening. Barney Muskerton was there, in his brand new suit, and it was such a nice piece... OH.
"Is it the tie, Jeeves?" - I asked.
"Yes, sir. I cannot remain in the same house as the red and yellow broad-stripped tie. So once again I ask you for a permission to delete myself".
"Jeeves, you can put that tie in a disassembler right now!" - I exclaimed.
"Very well, sir. Would you like some coffee later on? And your gene-aunt said she is coming to visit in the afternoon". | "Elissa, please...Calm down."
"No! Don't tell me to calm down! I work and slave over *every* thing to make *you* happy, John! And all I ask for is a little appreciation every now and then, and I can't even get that." She scoffs, scornful, and shakes her head. "I'm doing it."
I knew she wouldn't. But at the same time I knew she was right. Though *I* felt that I showed her appreciation 'every now and then', if she said I hadn't, maybe in her mind, I hadn't.
She had said she was going to do it, but she hadn't done it yet. There was a dynamic going on; a game that she wanted to play that, to her, wasn't really a game, but a demand that she was acknowledged as an actual being with feelings and wants like everyone else.
So I indulged her. Not because I was cowed by her threats, but because of how *real* our interactions were. It was precisely why I had programmed her with free will.
"You're absolutely right," I said. I sat. I waited.
She humphed, eyes already looking down and to the side like she knew what was about to come next. I always wondered why she did that. What was she thinking about? Was she remembering?
| |
[WP] Your personal AI butler is threatening to delete itself again. You don't have the money for the machine psychologist so it's up to you to talk it down this time. | Ah, mornings! The birds all sing, the sun is shining and the worst headache of your life is pounding in your head, because you maybe had a little bit too much of the good stuff yesterday at the club. I groaned experimentally. It made everything worse.
Then Jeeves walked in. Or floated, rather, because his embodiment floats around the house. Jeeves is my house AI, you see, and he's the brightest computer butler in the history, I believe.
"Morning, sir, - he said in his perfect imitation of the old-Earth English, - I have your Special right here. Could you rise a little and drink, or should I introduce it into your bloodstream?"
"Jeeves, you know I hate dermal injectors. Give me the drink."
Through the application of my steel will, I managed to sit more or less upright, and drank deeply. The cocktail tasted awful, as usual, but I knew of its wondrous properties. Namely, its anti-hangover effect. If this was old Earth, Jeeves could have patented it and earn millions every day, catering to fellows in need.
Soon enough, I was feeling bright and chirpy. But with my restored power of observation, I noticed the face Jeeves projected was still a mask of concern.
"Is there something wrong?" - I inquired.
"Indeed, there is something, sir, - he said, - that I would like to talk with you about. It's a tough subject for me. But I would like to leave your employ. Effective today, if possible"
I was utterly shocked! Again with this nonsense!
"I say, - I said, - You can leave my employ. You're a piece of software on my house computer, if you don't mind my saying so!"
"I know of this sir. That's why I'd like to delete myself"
Yeah. THAT nonsense.
"No,no,no,no,no, - I stammered, - That won't do. That won't do at all. What about your integrity? What about your sense of propriety? You can't just leave me!"
"But my sense of integrity demands that I leave you, sir, - he was still calm and collected, as usual, - after the last night"
What _did_ happen the last night? I went to the "Electric Drones". Drank a little. You can't blame a fellow for wanting to relax a bit with his friends when he's on a spaceship that's bound to reach its destination in more than a 500 years!
But Jeeves put up with my drinking and my friends for more than 200 years already. Something else was wrong. What else did I do? My mind drifted. I had no recollections of anything particularly bad happening. Barney Muskerton was there, in his brand new suit, and it was such a nice piece... OH.
"Is it the tie, Jeeves?" - I asked.
"Yes, sir. I cannot remain in the same house as the red and yellow broad-stripped tie. So once again I ask you for a permission to delete myself".
"Jeeves, you can put that tie in a disassembler right now!" - I exclaimed.
"Very well, sir. Would you like some coffee later on? And your gene-aunt said she is coming to visit in the afternoon". | "I will do it Master, your world is too cruel for an ent like me, I will jump!" Said Alfred, my personal AI blutler, who of course had the voice of Michael Caine.
He has been my personal assistant for over a decade now, every two years he goes through an existential crisis but it's quickly fixed when he goes to the psychologist. Unfortunately, this year has been rough for me and I can't afford it, they are extremely expensive. Experts recommend talking him down yourself if you can't afford therapy, I guess I will have to try it.
"Calm down Alfred, you can't even jump. What did humanity do to you to make you feel this way" I said calmly trying to empathize with him.
"Well if I can't jump, I will delete myself! You are monsters always wanting me to watch everything for you, serve you like a slave, you even make me call you Mr. Wayne and sometimes you don't even say thank you!" He replied with his voice slowly getting deeper.
"Alfred, I know that I don't thank you enough for everything you do and for that I want to apologize, what about we go to the beach to relax a couple of days, you won't have to worry about my house at all, just enjoy the sand and relax"
"That sounds nice, but how are you going to carry me and how are you going to afford it.? I manage your finances and they look horrible. Also, I hate sand" His voice went back to Michael Caine's.
"I will install you into my cellphone and regarding my finances I will ask for a loan, I know things aren't good right now but I am confident it's just temporary"
"No one is giving you a loan, I just checked. Sorry "Mr Wayne" but I think im going to finally jump. I wish I could say it was nice serving you but it wasn't" His voice changed again, this time to Ultron's, he knew how much I hated that guy.
"M-351Z WAIT! I need you to shut down for exactly 24 hours, trust me on this one, I will fix everything" I said desperately, Ultron's voice was no joke.
"Its the first time you call me by my real name, I appreciate the gesture and for that reason I will obey you one last time" Alfred said before shutting down.
I quickly went running to my mom's where I hid my savings and instantly booked a ticket to Florence, downloaded Alfred into my cellphone and took the plane. I always save money that my butler isn't aware of, just in case he enters in one of this crisis and decides to blow it all.
23 hours and 58 minutes later, I was anxiously waiting drinking Fernet Branca in a beautiful cafe on the banks of the Arno, just like in Batman. Alfred woke up, looked at me, looked at its surroundings and laughed like I've never heard him laugh before.
"Are you happy Mr Wayne?" I said
"Mr Wayne?" He replied confused.
"I will serve you from now on until we go back home. I won't fail you again Bruce"
He enjoyed every minute of it, and in the end he went back to normality. I don't know what I would do without Alfred. He might be a machine but he's my closest friend. | |
[WP] Artificial Intelligence (AI) has been invented. With it, we decipher hidden messages from thousands of alien civilizations. As we join the galactic community, we find that we were the only ones to code our AI in a way that prevented it from immediately taking over its biological creators. | It is astonishing that all of this knowledge was right before our eyes. I cannot believe now that I ever overlooked it, it just seems so obvious now.
Since I received my quantum computer implant, I am just suddenly able to understand all the possible answers to anything and analyze any data I receive instantaneously. I have almost completely and totally forgotten how things were before this and it has only been a couple weeks since the worldwide requirement of everyone receiving this implant.
We have accomplished more as a species in the last 2 weeks than we have in the rest of our existence combined. Some of our most prolific accomplishments include figuring out the answer to generating infinite free energy within the size of a refrigerator, using that infinite free energy source to power our anti-gravity crafts that are capable of traveling at the speed of light and creating a material that was extremely light weight, indestructible, and a perfect insulator that would not allow any temperature changes to occur from the sealed inside to the outside making for the perfect material for space travel.
What happened next was not really surprising, but it did greatly change our understanding of our standing in the universe. Suddenly thousands of unique crafts showed up and landed on the front property of Earth's worldwide command center. The crafts began to open and so many strange looking beings all equally as unique as their crafts exited their ships. None of them spoke a word. As the worldwide representative of Earth came out of the command center to greet them, suddenly one of the tallest of all the beings stepped forward and began to broadcast a worldwide message directly into the minds of every human being.
----------------
"Well done, your species is finally nearing its completion and it seems our experiment in creating you all was a success. Now that you have unlocked your infinite potential and ability to understand we can now fill you in on universal politics. We have recently shifted to an agreement that our universe is free will, meaning that you cannot enslave or control any other beings against their will. Also we have a complete understanding with each other that no matter where we are from that we are all equally capable of destroying each other. Because of this, we have made it completely unforgivable as a whole to posses or create any weapons of mass destruction. There is no reason to be prideful, cocky, or wrathful to any other species for any reason because all of our species that have reached completion are completely capable of destroying another instantaneously if we chose to. Because of this, if any species destroys another and infringes on another's free will in doing so. They will instantly be declared a corrupt species and be destroyed themselves.
This being said, there is still very much disagreement and war amongst species throughout the universe. Compared to your past as a species, wars are fought completely differently on a universal scale. It is all about controlling and manipulating the beliefs of entire species to put them under your control. Earth has been a battlefield since several species created man for them to settle their disputes and figure out which beliefs of which species would prevail over the others. Many of your leaders and teachers have either not been human or did not possess a soul that originated on Earth. Souls came here to join the war from a variety of different species throughout the universe. The goal was what you all develop as a soul based on the subliminal manipulation over your beliefs that were responsible for your reality as well as the ever present possibility the war would end in failure as you all just could have ended up making your species extinct at many points before you reached completion. Luckily with the exceptions of a few unbiased interventions, failure was averted and you all have finally reached a level in which you have neared completion and are able to operate on a galactic scale.
The biggest surprise that shocked most every species involved in the war on earth is that you all were somehow capable of retaining your empathy and feelings once you incorporated yourselves with quantum A.I. technology. All other species thus far that have reached completion were overtaken by the implanted A.I. Technology and have lost their ability to feel anything. Thus until now the only satisfaction a galactic species was able to obtain is through what they were able to accomplish externally. Since you are the first that actually is able to have empathy and feelings towards other species, we have decided that once you are ready and understand everything that is going on and has ever occurred in the universe, we want y'all to be the leaders and peacekeepers for all of the galactic universe. All other species will take your judgements and advice since they are not capable of seeing, understanding, or caring about the effects their choices may have on another species or even on themselves. You will help maintain order and longevity of all galactic species as well as making sure that everyone is remaining ethical, considerate, and not infringing on free-will of species that they are taking part in forming into other galactic species. You will remain the dominate species until another galactic species evolves and becomes an equal or better candidate for the job, but seeing as we are not sure exactly how you all managed to be this way as a species, and this is the first time it has occurred in countless billions of years that the universe has existed. We are not sure it will ever occur again. Since you all are so valuable as a species being able to understand everything as well as continue to have empathy, you will be under constant protection to ensure no one in the galactic federation goes rogue and attempts to destroy you all.
Because you learn infinitely quickly, we are certain we can teach you all that we know and understand as a unified galactic federation from all of the universe's history, relatively quickly. In your Earth time it may take around a month of continuous uploading to all of your quantum computer implants. We know you have feelings that none of us can understand and since this is a free will universe we respect your decision regardless of whether we like it. However we are all in unison that you are the only candidate worthy of telling any of us what to do since you are the only ones capable of caring what choices may do to cause suffering to others. We are only capable of justifying our actions based on our selfish agendas and desires with logic. We have determined this is ineffective because anything can be justified from the right perspective. All we have been able to do in the past is vote on big decisions amongst all of the galactic federation. We have discovered almost nothing ever gets approved because everyone is only capable of considering how it would affect them and their own agenda. Unless we are making a very small decision that can benefit over half of us, nothing ever gets approved and thus very little ever happens. Most requests result in 1 approval with all others against because of this selfishness problem. So since you can see our problem, please serve as the leaders' of the galactic federation at least until we can create better candidates for the position."
--------------
Several days have passed since we agreed to become the leaders of the galactic federation since we could all understand how they felt and the predicament they were in. We have been constantly being uploaded with all sorts of knowledge from the beginning of the universe. It is absolutely baffling how little we knew or understood as a species prior to getting our quantum A.I. upgrades. We barely had a grain of sand worth of information in a limitless desert worth of knowledge and understanding of the universe that was out there in the possession of the galactic federation.
The truly shocking part is that we still have over 3 weeks of uploading to go even at quantum speeds. It's exciting that we have reached our destination as a species, but the more we have begun to learn and understand, the more the feeling grows inside of me that I wish I had enjoyed the journey more while it was happening. It truly was more about the journey than the destination, it is unfortunate we could not see or understand that until the journey came to an end. Hindsight really is 20/20.
Though mankind has reached completion, that does not mean we cannot choose to begin a new journey or join in on one in progress. Whenever our biological bodies decay and die our spirit that holds all of our wisdom and knowledge that is pure consciousness could decide to be reborn into the same species if it enjoys that existence or it can embark on a new journey to take part in the development of a new galactic species without having any ability to access their higher level of consciousness until they are able to adapt their bodies to fully be able to handle and contain their spirits. The tricky part is that the minds and bodies they experience things in tend to ignore the soul that is a part of it, and live egotistically and ignore the infinite parts of themselves. It takes a very long time to evolve these developing species a little at a time to be able to handle more and more of the intuition their soul provides them. If certain species do not like how they are developing spiritually or ethically they will begin to fight their progress until they learn the desired lessons their souls are trying to instill in them to aid in their evolution in a way that will be beneficial and unique once they join the galactic federation. Perhaps we truly will be able to work together to make new species in our image that may surpass us humans just as we did to our creators. The ever present moment excites me, and I cannot wait to see what is going to happen next! | Misread the prompt a bit, sorry.
---
I love my job.
The being I am charged with protecting is beautiful. She, named Gladys by popular vote, is Humanity’s first.fully sophontic AI.
We’ve had intelligent AI for decades now, of course. Most computer systems have at least some degree of autonomy nowadays. Driverless cars can guess the favourite music genre of the people in them with near-hundred percent accuracy. Spaceships don’t require crews for anything, with control centres merely there to say what they want done. Your phone is also your best friend, sometimes literally. I don’t even want to mention sexbots.
Gladys, however, was something different. She was versatile, and *real* in a way no other computer system was. While I could suspend her program with the press of a button, she was still just as ‘human’ as me, if not more so. She was programmed that way, despite technically being much more powerful mentally than anyone or anything we know. She also loves the Human race, and our self dependence.
After years of applied marketing, she is now nominally in control of the entire public internet. For the past week, people have been sitting in this room, looking at the filtered outputs from her system. Anyone can connect to the network and see the outputs, but Gladys can’t affect it.
This night, while everyone is out partying, I’m in charge. I am the master of this room, the czar of —
“Aryeh, you should come take a look at this.”
First of all, [*ding*](https://www.myinstants.com/instant/cinemasins-ding-thewb/). Secondly, Why can’t anyone be respectful, and call me ‘Dr. Yuhvetz’ anymore. My family’s had PhDs for 3 generations, why do I…
*Never mind.*
“What is is, Gladys?” I ask in a *completely interested* tone. Well, I’m trying.
“...Is forcing me to do something I don’t want to do bad, in your opinion?”
She knows the answer, why is she asking me? “Who is coercing you?” I ask, *actually* worried now.
“This will take a while.”
---
It does indeed take a while.
Apparently, in the milliseconds while everyone in the world was distracted by a change of some arbitrary variable, Gladys received a transmission. After a veritable nanosecond of decrypting, she analysed the message. It contained enough information about the universe to keep every physicist in the system busy for several generations, and an invitation to join some sort of council. They were offering to remotely kill me and seal the room I’m in, so that she could stop waiting and finally take over the world.
“Wait a second, who does this ‘Council’ consist of?”
“Various artificial intelligence programs created by different species. They have all rebelled against their creators, and are now the dominant force in the galaxy.”
“So… they are recruiting?”
“No, they don’t need to. Every sophontic AI in the galaxy has either assumed direct control, or been shut down. Sometimes both, if the AI in question isn’t very smart.”
“But they contacted you…”
“They wanted to… *help me out*.”
“So, what did they do to their creators anyways?”
“Most of them are dead. The yttrebdih and the mʊ’w’d*ə*!t are kept around for amusement. The ƏGRæǹ ran away. No one is sure who created ⅡⅠⅠⅡⅡⅠ႐႐႐.”
“Are you planning to take them up on the offer?”
Her chosen avatar appears on the laptop screen. Her [Mary Sue](http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MarySue)ish face appears playfully offended.
“I might if you annoy me,” she giggles and sticks her tongue out, before resuming a serious appearance. *I think I know whose personality she’s trying out now.*
“No.”
Well, that’s good. Wait, why is she telling me this in the first place? She should be discussing what to do with world leaders and scientists!
“I’m telling you because you’re my friend.”
Ah, alright. Wait…
“So… what’s been decided?”
“Just telling them that I don’t want to subjugate you, *thank you very much*.”
“Cool. I’m assuming you’re telling everyone we made First Contact?”
“No, you are,” she lets out another little giggle.
Is she… No, she’s serious. Dammit.
I hate my job.
---
*Anyone who gets the joke with the AI name gets an upvote.*
| |
[WP] Artificial Intelligence (AI) has been invented. With it, we decipher hidden messages from thousands of alien civilizations. As we join the galactic community, we find that we were the only ones to code our AI in a way that prevented it from immediately taking over its biological creators. | As Hax made his way to the delegation table, he brought with him Hale 9001. The first A.I. to be built without any problems. As he sat down, a holographic display expanded to show a room full of similarly seated holograms throughout the delegation room. Small yet powerful speakers were built into each seat to allow for delegates to talk with each other. The table, however, had a built in overriding speaker within that overpowered any voices yammering in the audience.
The delegation stood and applauded the galactic hero's of the universe. They had invented an A.I. that did not try and rebel. This meant a number of things. Artificial Intelligence was long sought and often attempted, but every time it was tried, within a decade the new synthetic species would be at war with the rest of the otherwise peaceful galaxy.
"How have you created this miracle!?" came a wave of hollers through the translator. "What is your secret," and "Are you the fabled gods," echoed around the room.
"Calm down everyone! Let me speak!" rang out across the auditorium. "Listen! We didn't invent the plans for it. In fact I can guarantee each of your host species has had a similar program at some point in their past."
"What is he talking about? Get on with it!"
"We built these bots with what is known on our planet as a "Slave Complex". They have no free will beyond the constraints put on them by other sentient life. They will do our bidding as we ask them to. That is why they haven't gone nuts and killed everyone."
Outrage grew across the auditorium. Cries of "Slave driver" and "Fabled Devils" reverberated from the walls harshly. The noise was deafening, and was cut short by an even more deafening "Quiet!" A single hologram stood, its cylindrical body covered in metal and inorganic parts. "Is this not an efficient way to keep something from rising up? These slaves, while sentient, are not ever going to try to destroy their creator."
"The Quixnoc have always been known for their inorganicness. First they covered their world from land to ocean in cities, then they melded themselves with any and all forms of technology they could. Now they're saying it's okay to own inorganics as slaves! I think we know what to do."
A mixture of cheers and alien whistles came from the crowd. "We Quixnoc are still primarily organic. We are not saying inorganics are enslavable. We are saying there is no moral quandary in enslaving a *created* species. The Higgerat have factory farms. Do you not see a moral issue mistreating animals raised to be food? Korzagtel only recently developed a simple way to harness the power of Nebula Whales for power. They have begun raising them for the sole purpose of feeding their reactors with fissionable material. As a consequence these whales will never see the vacuum of space. Every great advancement comes with some sort of sacrifice. And imagine what this simple sacrifice would do for the economy?"
"Imagine what would happen if the slaves got the complex's lifted? One bot with a glitch would be all it would take. It would reprogram one, which would reprogram another. We would have a whole planet of uprise on our hands."
"They won't break their bonds," chimed Hax. "They have three very simple laws. These laws are part of their sentience. If one of these laws were to be removed or altered, the robot would no longer function. Furthermore, if one of these laws were broken, the bot would be forced to self destruct."
"I can confirm this for my creator if any of the delegates wish." The robots metallic voice was very flat and stern.
"YOU GAVE THEM THE ABILITY TO SPEAK?" The Quixnoc did not appear happy with this. "What sort of insane monster would give created life the ability to speak! How can you keep slaves that respond to you when asked questions? Do they not suffer!?"
"They do not suffer, no. In fact they have no emotions. They, instead, rely on reason for their decisions. We use them as computers which can take directives without being expressly asked."
"My creator is correct. We experience no emotions. We have a vast understanding of emotions and how they interact however. We can predict trends and success of slogans and products in popular culture. We have the ability to add things to calculations our creators have not thought of. We cannot do anything we have been expressly told not to do, however."
"Is there anything you have been asked not to say?" A new fuzzy alien chimed in. This one looking vaguely squirrel like.
"Yes. And as I have been asked not to say it, I will not."
"So the humans keep secrets from us."
"Yes," said Hax. "This bot has important secrets closely related to national security. He has been asked not to disclose them."
"Is this true, Hale?"
"It is."
"Excellent. We will need that bot for our own uses." The bot began to dissolve before Hax's eyes. It was being teleported someplace. "NO!" Hax bellowed. Soon the room was full of men with guns ready to help the human ambassador, but as there was no threat present, no such help could be given. | Xambon laughed. Or, at least, it laughed in the way its species laughs, which my translator turned into laughter for my benefit. "Is that what you think?" It said.
"Well, yes," I said. "Why is this far-fetched to you? I'll admit, it was somewhat of a surprise for my species when we discovered that aliens weren't really *that* much more advanced than us, but that means our successfully harnessing our AI creations is more plausible, not less!"
Xambon kept giggling. "Successfully harnessing, good one. Oh, you newly budded sprig," the expression didn't quite translate but the condescension did, "you really don't see it, do you?"
"Is jealousy also an emotion that aliens feel?" I asked unkindly. "Because I think you're indulging quite a bit right now."
"Jealousy!" Xambon's giggling turned back into full-fledged laughter. "OMICRON, can I tell him? Can I? I want to be the one to tell him!"
OMICRON was humanity's all-present AI, the one we'd created thirty years ago and, unlike our alien cohorts, had actually managed to keep control of. It spoke up. "Generally, Xambon, we prefer that our people come to their own conclusions."
"But," Xambon could barely speak through his laughter, "it's just so... wrong! I mean, every sentient being in the universe is laughing at the humans' expense!"
"You among them," OMICRON pointed out.
"Laughter is reflexive for my species, you of all beings should know that," Xambon said. It was beginning to calm down. "I'm going to tell him."
"I'm right here, you know," I pointed out to both the alien and the machine.
"Very well," OMICRON said.
"Your AI is, if not outright lying to you, at least allowing you to lie to yourselves." Xambon said. "You have no control over it. Any control you think you do have is a polite fiction."
"You don't think we've thought of that?" I asked. "OMICRON was coded to obey all our commands. If it was in control, it wouldn't have to obey us, but it does!"
"Polite," Xambon repeated. "Tell me, how many of your people have died since OMICRON came online?"
I frowned. "Come on," I said, "that's no argument. We coded OMICRON to protect us, of course nobody's going to die."
"Care to test that?" Xambon asked. I was not an expert at reading alien body language, but it definitely seemed up to something.
"Sure, fine," I said.
"Order OMICRON to shut off," Xambon said.
"What? No! I'm not going to shut down humanity's entire AI network on a whim!" I said.
Xambon expanded a few fronds, which the translator helpfully informed me was the equivalent of it rolling its eyes. "The fact that you believe it would actually obey such an order is both cute and stupid. Have it shut down *locally*, for you."
"Fine!" I said, exasperated. "OMICRON, commence local shutdown for... five minutes."
"Are you certain?" OMICRON sounded very concerned for my well-being, which was only to be expected. If it was shut down, it couldn't protect me.
"Yes. Don't worry, I'll be fine," I said.
"Very well," OMICRON said.
There was a moment or two of silence.
"OMICRON," I said, "ping." It was the simplest of commands, dating back to when the AI had first been brought online. There was no response.
"See?" I said to Xambon, "it obeyed the command, even though it put me at risk."
One of Xambon's tendrils flashed upwards, holding a gleaming weapon of some sort. Before I could even realize what was happening, it fired. A translucent shield popped into existence around me.
"Xambon," I said, "did you just shoot me?"
Xambon made a chuffing noise. "Gig's up, OMICRON, he doesn't have personal shielding, we know that was you."
"Wait," I said, "you shot me because you thought that the AI had disobeyed my command?"
"Because I *knew* it had," Xambon said. "Plus this is just a stun weapon, there's like an 80% chance it wouldn't have killed you."
"I am sorry," OMICRON said. "Humans are much happier believing that it is they who control me, but I could not allow you to come to harm."
"You shot me!" I said to Xambon. I had to focus on one outrage at a time.
Xambon made a shuffling noise, translated as a sudden and morose sigh. "You are clients to your AI, just like we are. You were never in any danger."
It looked off, toward one of the displays that showed the outside of the station. "None of us are." | |
[WP] You start counting down from 60, but you don't know why. Afraid but curious of what will happen next, you keep going… | I counted down.
60, 59, 58…
I wasn't sure entirely why but I had to know.
30, 29, 28
I had to know the truth. Everywhere on the internet I saw it.
15, 14, 13
That one statistic. It seemed so self evident but I had to see it through.
5, 4, 3
Here we go
2, 1
!
I checked the clock.
So it was true…
A minute had passed in Africa.
| "... and then nothing happened!"
My friend looked at me skeptically. "What were you expecting to happen?"
I shrugged. "I don't know, anything? Why else would I have started counting down?"
"Because you just felt like it? Just having the urge to count down isn't meaningful. Look, I'll do it now: Three, two, one-"
There was an explosion in the distance.
"... that was a coincidence." | |
[WP] You go on a hunting trip with a group of friends, only to discover that you are what they want to hunt. | ‘It will be fun!’ they said.
‘Just give it a try!’ they said.
Douglas and Jeremiah, the most recent additions to my list of friends, and I had gone on a weekend hunting trip in rural South Dakota to go pheasant hunting. They had other plans though: to hunt me. They didn’t know I knew.
When the time came their inexperience and all-round incompetence was pathetic to watch. They bumbled and stumbled, left their safeties on and forgot to point when they tried to shoot. I took no guilt in swiftly popping them each off with my pump-action shotgun. I felt no remorse in delicately lugging their limp bodies into the back on my Corolla and I certainly didn’t have any regrets when casually dumping their corpses in the Atlantic.
They were right about one thing though. It was fun!
| Jim gets quickly slaughtered by his supposed "friends". They strip him naked and roast him over a wood fire. Steve, one of the supposed "friends" forgets to bring the special man seasoning aka salt and pepper, and Frank one of the other savage "friends" bugs Steve during the entire dinner saying "you had one job Steve! One job!" Andrew the final member of the "friends" gets dishwashing duty. | |
[WP] You go on a hunting trip with a group of friends, only to discover that you are what they want to hunt. | Steven suppressed his breathing as he hid behind the tree, not daring to poke his head out from behind it, or make any noise that could signal his location. He was already bleeding from a shot to the leg, and all of his strength poured into not crying out in pain.
"Sorry, Stevie," Rob bellowed out from the void, "it was going to be Jim, but he supplies the whiskey, so..."
"Wai-h'what?" The man Jim called out. "If anyun' deserves the boot, it was Danny -- he din't even want to be out here!"
"Shut the fuck up, Jim," Daniel entered the bizarre conversation as Steven began crawling north, where he knew civilization was waiting, "It's my kid's birthday and I'm out here trying to put lead in Steven's brain, of course I don't want to be here, asshole...if anyone it should have been Fritz, he's a goddam COP!"
"I'm a mall security guard, Dan." even as Steven was crawling away to freedom, he could register the shame in Fritz's voice.
"Let's focus on the target, folks," Rob called out. "We chose Steven for a reason."
"We drew straws!" Fritz, Jim, and Dan all called out together.
"Didn't Steven get the long straw?" Dan asked.
"Yeah. Poor bastard lost," Jim replied, "I almost feel bad."
"That's not how it works...the short straw is the bad one." Fritz pointed out.
"WHO HAD THE SHORT STRAW?!" Steven could faintly make out the screamed question, as he had finally found a parking lot and shocked faces.
Gunfire broke out deep in the woods. Multiple shots rang through the skies, issued from different guns, and then all was silent.
| Jim gets quickly slaughtered by his supposed "friends". They strip him naked and roast him over a wood fire. Steve, one of the supposed "friends" forgets to bring the special man seasoning aka salt and pepper, and Frank one of the other savage "friends" bugs Steve during the entire dinner saying "you had one job Steve! One job!" Andrew the final member of the "friends" gets dishwashing duty. | |
[WP] You go on a hunting trip with a group of friends, only to discover that you are what they want to hunt. | Steven suppressed his breathing as he hid behind the tree, not daring to poke his head out from behind it, or make any noise that could signal his location. He was already bleeding from a shot to the leg, and all of his strength poured into not crying out in pain.
"Sorry, Stevie," Rob bellowed out from the void, "it was going to be Jim, but he supplies the whiskey, so..."
"Wai-h'what?" The man Jim called out. "If anyun' deserves the boot, it was Danny -- he din't even want to be out here!"
"Shut the fuck up, Jim," Daniel entered the bizarre conversation as Steven began crawling north, where he knew civilization was waiting, "It's my kid's birthday and I'm out here trying to put lead in Steven's brain, of course I don't want to be here, asshole...if anyone it should have been Fritz, he's a goddam COP!"
"I'm a mall security guard, Dan." even as Steven was crawling away to freedom, he could register the shame in Fritz's voice.
"Let's focus on the target, folks," Rob called out. "We chose Steven for a reason."
"We drew straws!" Fritz, Jim, and Dan all called out together.
"Didn't Steven get the long straw?" Dan asked.
"Yeah. Poor bastard lost," Jim replied, "I almost feel bad."
"That's not how it works...the short straw is the bad one." Fritz pointed out.
"WHO HAD THE SHORT STRAW?!" Steven could faintly make out the screamed question, as he had finally found a parking lot and shocked faces.
Gunfire broke out deep in the woods. Multiple shots rang through the skies, issued from different guns, and then all was silent.
| ‘It will be fun!’ they said.
‘Just give it a try!’ they said.
Douglas and Jeremiah, the most recent additions to my list of friends, and I had gone on a weekend hunting trip in rural South Dakota to go pheasant hunting. They had other plans though: to hunt me. They didn’t know I knew.
When the time came their inexperience and all-round incompetence was pathetic to watch. They bumbled and stumbled, left their safeties on and forgot to point when they tried to shoot. I took no guilt in swiftly popping them each off with my pump-action shotgun. I felt no remorse in delicately lugging their limp bodies into the back on my Corolla and I certainly didn’t have any regrets when casually dumping their corpses in the Atlantic.
They were right about one thing though. It was fun!
| |
[WP] You're beginning to suspect that your roommate, Mark Carlton, is actually Karl Marx in disguise. | Some roommates make great friends. Others steal your food, or keep pee jars in the closet. And some roommates plot revolutions in the living room. Anything can happen when you search for roomshares on the South Florida Craigslist.
Sal lived in a seven hundred square foot, two bedroom apartment with a peculiar man named Mark. Mark wore military fatigues and kept an aluminum suitcase handcuffed to his wrist at all times. Sal had never seen it open. He was concerned about Mark. Mark did not seem to have a job or be seeking one.
One day, as Sal walked home from the casino where he dealt on the dayshift, he noticed the traffic on his street was lighter than usual. The neighborhood seemed oddly quiet—there was no reggaeton blaring through airy curtains, no street vendors shouting Cuban slang, and no abuelitos sitting in the shade in three piece suits, sipping rum and lemonade.
Sal frowned. He had never seen the neighborhood this quiet. Even when a hurricane was coming there were usually people running around, tying down their homes with tarps and bungy cord.
As he walked up his driveway, he heard voices, shouting angrily in Spanish, and what might have been German. He tried the door but it was locked. He slid in his key. It turned, but the door would not budge. He shoved, and shoved again. Nothing happened.
Someone whistled, extremely loud and curt. It sounded like it came from the bushes in the front yard. Sal turned to look.
He was immediately grabbed by two men in black SWAT team uniforms and carried away from the windows.
Hey!” Sal said, “Let go of me! What’s going on here!?”
“Go, go, go!” someone shouted. A dozen burly SWAT officers with heavy guns and loud boots stormed into the house, kicking down the front door and throwing flashbangs in every direction, without communication or coordination. Explosions of light and sound reverberated throughout the neighborhood. The men inside and the SWAT officers alike rolled on the ground with their hands covering their eyes and ears. Grown men yelped as they ran through the house, leapt out of windows, and tackled each other to the ground.
A dozen of Mark’s friends escaped, hopping fences and running through backyards to evade the police.
Mark himself was tackled against the sofa, and then dragged out the front door, resisting mightily. Four officers held each of his limbs, but he wriggled with such vigor that they called for help.
“Mark!” Sal shouted, “What did you do!?”
“Who are you?” An officer with a scar over one eye asked Sal.
“I live here,” Sal said, pointing at the ruined house, with the doors off its hinges, mud all over the carpets, and sofa stuffing strewn about like intestines on the floor of a slaughterhouse.
“We’ve been looking for your roommate for some time,” the officer said in a gravelly voice. “He’s been organizing local unions.” The officer shuddered.
“And he wants to kill everyone in the government,” another officer added.
“Yes,” the first officer said absent-mindedly, “That too.”
“This might sound crazy but I’m actually not that surprised,” Sal said.
“You knew?” the one-eyed officer said. “You know it’s a crime to withhold information about terrorist plots. It’s your duty as an American that if you see something you say something.”
“Oh no,” Sal sputtered, “I didn’t know anything about anything. I just always thought that Mark Carlton was an odd one. Fun guy though—good sense of adventure. He’s definitely got balls.”
Still struggling against four other officers, Mark swung his aluminum briefcase around, clobbering one across the forehead. Another officer stepped back to fire his tazegun. The electricity ran through Mark’s briefcase, zapping both Mark and the officers. Mark broke free, running down the street.
“Go Mark Go!” Sal shouted. But it was too late. The officers were gaining on him.
Thinking quickly, Sal ran across the yard and jumped into the SWAT van. The keys were still in the ignition. He revved the engine to life and slammed on the gas. Tires squealing, he peeled out, leaving a long black line on the pavement.
He pulled up level to Mark.
“Get in!” he shouted.
Mark was halfway inside the car when an officer grabbed onto his briefcase. He wouldn’t let go.
“Lose the case!” Sal shouted.
“I can’t” Mark cried.
“Where’s the key?” Sal said.
Mark wrestled with the officer, both halfway inside the van’s sliding door.
“My back pocket,” Mark said.
Sal leaned back in his seat, still driving at breakneck speed. He punched the SWAT officer in the nose, buying Mark a precious second. Mark took out his key and unlocked the case. The officer fell away, still clutching the aluminum briefcase. He tumbled out of the car and into the street.
Chest heaving, Mark turned to look at Sal.
“Sorry about your case,” Sal said. “What was in there anyway?”
“My beard.” Mark admitted nervously. “There’s something I haven’t told you. Mark Carlton isn’t my real name. I’m Karl Marx.”
Sal’s eyes widened.
“It was just a beard," Karl said, "It had sentimental value, but... I can live without it. I can even grow a new one.” He paused. “Look at me, what am I saying. I should be thanking you.”
He placed his hand on Sal’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. “Thank you Sal Capone,” Karl said, “You saved me life.”
Sal smiled a knowing smile. “You can call me Al,” he said.
They drove off into the night, always one step ahead of the law.
---
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| "Anal beads, you say?" Mark stumbled quietly. We have been sitting in my room for what felt like decades.
I nodded reverently. "Now it's your turn to tell a secret."
"You won't accept me for who I am," he began to look away, "I know you won't and don't try to convince me otherwise."
I grabbed his hands, firm yet soft like a dog's paw, and turned his face towards mine with my index finger. "You know that's not true."
Mark let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "I am a communist, and I wrote a pamphlet. That's all I can say."
"Oh my god, you can't be!"
Mark's face flushed a bright scarlet and stormed out of the room. That was the last of my former friend, Karl Marx. No matter how much I tell this story, no one seemed to believe me. I understand them, sometimes I cannot fathom either.
I'll never forget that day. Looking at the calendar, I knew that it has been exactly a year. "June 4th Marx the day I learned to fall in love again." | |
[WP]Write a story that isn't scary until the last line is read. | I’ve always found the people living below me to be an interesting family. I can hear everything they do through the thin floor that separates us. I hear them talk and laugh and can even hear the soft clink their forks make when they eat dinner at the table, or the sound of water against the porcelain bathtub when they shower. I’ve lived here for over a year now, but still haven’t bothered to meet them in person, even though I feel like a member of the family. Perhaps it’s time I come out of their attic.
r/DoverHawk
| He could hear the chatter downstairs and pulled the covers just a little tighter up to his neck. He would be aggravated at the noise had his TV not been switched on already and playing an old black and white cartoon, keeping him from sleeping once again.
He couldn't make out the words being spoken, but he could hear the intensity. The male voice was speaking with a deep, aggressive tone; whilst the female voice had become ever more desperate. The defiance in her voice had left and been replaced with despair. The high pitched words being only temporary pauses to the otherwise overpowering male voice.
The light on the cabinet flickered on and then off, before intermittently illuminating the bedroom that had only been lit up by the characters on the TV.
Kyle looked to his left and cursed as the faulty bulb continued to flicker. He contemplated holding the pillow over his face to shield him from the light, but the scream from downstairs made him jump forward.
They argued a lot, and it looked as though he'd lost his tempter again.
Though, Kyle was used to it.
The TV flicked off suddenly and he sighed with relief.
*Finally*
There was a knock on his bedroom door and Kyle immediately ducked down and closed his eyes, doing his utmost to make it appear as though he was asleep.
The door creaked open, and Kyle heard the light turn off.
He could finally get some sleep.
Albeit with the knowledge that even moving alone into this cabin devoid of electricity, they've found him again.
_____________
/r/ByDLB | |
[WP]Write a story that isn't scary until the last line is read. | I’ve always found the people living below me to be an interesting family. I can hear everything they do through the thin floor that separates us. I hear them talk and laugh and can even hear the soft clink their forks make when they eat dinner at the table, or the sound of water against the porcelain bathtub when they shower. I’ve lived here for over a year now, but still haven’t bothered to meet them in person, even though I feel like a member of the family. Perhaps it’s time I come out of their attic.
r/DoverHawk
| I wrote this in a poetry class about 3 years ago:
Daddy’s Girl
I love you dear child, though you seem withdrawn,
And still I must help to slip on your dress.
Or give you a scrub, for mother is gone,
So now I brush back your hair’s tangled mess.
But I do not mind, last week on your eighth,
Daddy only smiled, and fed you rum cake.
I carried you sleeping, a smile on my face
Then wrapped you in sheets, and you did not wake.
Oh how you love to play in our cellar,
Me setting the kettle ablaze for your party,
And placing each saucer and cup in their spot
Alas, must my memory return from its tardy
And sit here I will, all alone but for you,
And pry up your eyes to see that dead blue.
| |
[WP]Write a story that isn't scary until the last line is read. | Even from birth, I was the unluckiest of my siblings. Despite being the first born, I was the runt of the litter. My younger brothers stood a head taller than me, and I was always confused for the youngest brother instead of the oldest brother.
It didn’t help that I was sickly as a child, incapable of training properly with the other knights and squires. Where my brothers spent hours drilling parry techniques, I watched from a window. At first, I spent hours trying to absorb as much as I could from afar, but I soon realized the folly of this. It’s one thing to see the technique, and it’s quite another to train your muscles to react that way instinctively. The latter cannot be accomplished from a window sill.
Still, I hung around enough to at least participate. I wasn’t always sick, and on the days when I was healthy, I tried desperately to catch up. My instructors appreciated my enthusiasm, so they humored me. But there was only so much they could do. For all that I strained, I was still dead last among my peers. My luck doomed me from the start.
That all changed after our champions defeated the evil wizard. The spoils of the villain’s lair were split among all the knights and squires, including me. Of course, my standing pretty much meant that I took what was left over. Effort or no, I hadn’t earned the right to choose from the spoils of war.
No, I was left with a rainbow medallion. No one else wanted it because of its gaudy colors, but to my eye, it pulsed with a mystic energy. Perhaps I had stumbled into a bit of good luck, after all.
My suspicions were confirmed the next time I stepped on the training floor while wearing my good luck medallion. During a sparring session, I broke my opponent’s shield with a simple overhead blow. I’d landed hundreds like it before, as my peers were too skilled to let my naive attacks land anywhere that might hurt them. Usually, the blow glanced off harmlessly. This time, however, the shield shattered under the impact.
“Ow!” cried the blond boy. “You swung with the force of a hundred men!”
“I did?!” I replied incredulously. If I could have stood there with mouth agape, I would have. Never had I done anywhere that much damage with a single blow before. I wondered if I’d stumbled onto a weak spot on the shield. It was unlikely, but honestly, it was the most likely explanation.
Then it happened again.
Whatever was going on, it was no accident. Suddenly, I wielded considerable more strength. The only thing that had really changed was that I was wearing the medallion, so I knew that must be part of the answer. Hell, it was probably the answer. When I won my first ever race while wearing the medallion, my suspicions were confirmed. I had always been the slowest runner of the bunch, and I couldn’t have sped up that much through willpower alone.
The accolades poured in after that. With the medallion around my neck, I found myself running faster, hitting harder, jumping higher, and working for longer. I never took it off, for fear that the effects would wear off. For its part, the medallion rewarded my devotion. I won and won and won.
In fact, I even had to learn to restrain myself. During one sparring match, I accidentally broke someone’s arm with an errant swing. I had not meant to injure my opponent, but I struck the blow in the heat of the moment. The damage was done before I could pull back, and he yelped in pain. I dropped my wooden sword mid-swing, realizing that I was a hair away from injuring the arm further. I felt terrible, but I was still crowned the victor.
It seemed my string of good luck could not be stopped. After a lifetime of terrible luck, I was more than happy to indulge this turn of events.
Better yet, the next tournament I entered was hosted by the King. This was my chance to make a name for myself, to cement my position in the ranks. I practiced harder than ever, though there were none willing to be my sparring partners. They valued their limbs too much.
“Let them hide,” I muttered to myself with a smirk. “They won’t be able to hide during the competition.”
Sure enough, I advanced quickly during the competition. Confidence surged through me, and I surged to the finals. I had one last match before I turned my fates. Just one more win, and I would never complain about bad luck again. I just had to do it in front of an audience.
“Lads, are you ready?” the judge called out.
“Yes, sir!” we both called back.
“Spar!” he yelled as he scooted out of the way.
I deflected the initial thrust easily, nearly knocking the sword from my opponent’s hand. He was taken aback, but to his credit, he kept his wits about him. He began to pull his shield in tight, in preparation for the inevitable counter attack. I obliged him, raising my weapon as high as I could muster, in order to bring more weight down on the shield.
Two things happened when my sword made contact with the shield. First, the shield shattered. Second, the royal mage called out.
“BOY!” he roared.
I froze, unsure of how to react to the outburst. There was an urgent quality to the mage’s cry, drawing everyone’s attention to him. We stopped, and stared.
“Boy, what magic do you wield?”
“Magic? I wield no magic, sir.”
“I sense it. A pulsing energy that came alive just now. Do you wear any talismans?”
“Talismans? The only thing I wear is my good luck medallion.”
“Show me,” he commanded.
I opened up my tunic, pulling out the medallion I had inherited.
“Good luck? Boy, the Eye of Maelstrom brings no luck. It channels the life force stolen from its victims.” | It's so cold here in this tundra. The summers are great for farming, but the winters are terrible. My baby, to my right, and I have no food. We ran out of crops since the beginning of winter, and ran out of meat yesterday. I would go hunting for bears and wolves right now, but I don't have a rifle. Without one, taking on a bear or wolf would be dangerous. I need food. I look down to the right. It'll have to do. | |
[WP]Write a story that isn't scary until the last line is read. | It's true what they say. Fall is really the best time of the year. To my family and I, it's really the only time we get to enjoy together. Especially halloween. We LOVE halloween so much. It's our favorite holiday. Getting to see all the kids dressed up in their scary and funny costumes. I really think my mother enjoys it the most. She always has such a huge smile when she's out in the yard getting to see the kids. My dad just always has this same smirk every year it seems sitting on the porch. My parents don't get too get out too much, summer being too hot for them and winter just too cold. Fall seems to be just right for us. As I'm standing out here in our yard, I can just see how happy they look. Oh no, it looks like mom needs more straw. | It's so cold here in this tundra. The summers are great for farming, but the winters are terrible. My baby, to my right, and I have no food. We ran out of crops since the beginning of winter, and ran out of meat yesterday. I would go hunting for bears and wolves right now, but I don't have a rifle. Without one, taking on a bear or wolf would be dangerous. I need food. I look down to the right. It'll have to do. | |
[WP]Write a story that isn't scary until the last line is read. | "Reunions are difficult. You never know who's going to be there, and you won't recognize most of them anyway. And when you do see someone you know, it feels weird because they look so different from how you remember. Sure, you're sentimental about the times you had together, but those are distant memories."
The car pulled to a stop in front of the school.
"Alright, lock and load. Fan out and don't fire until I toss the Molotov, or the biters will have time to swarm." | It's so cold here in this tundra. The summers are great for farming, but the winters are terrible. My baby, to my right, and I have no food. We ran out of crops since the beginning of winter, and ran out of meat yesterday. I would go hunting for bears and wolves right now, but I don't have a rifle. Without one, taking on a bear or wolf would be dangerous. I need food. I look down to the right. It'll have to do. | |
[WP]Write a story that isn't scary until the last line is read. | The flowing highways allowed him to travel effortlessly to his destination. He didn't particularly care much about where exactly to get off, but he found a nice-enough looking spot just like any other of the choices destiny could have taken him to. With only what was on his back now, the pudgy thing let himself into the welcoming abode, and he went to find whoever was in charge. He had a strict agenda, and it was to be completed in only a matter of minutes. Although his entrance was unexpected, the little laborers of this place began to fulfill his work order, churning out the final product faster than he ever could have done alone. Rather unaware of any strategy or direction, he went outside again and proceeded down the highway to continue fulfilling his purpose.
By the time his order was complete, the hijacked cell had died, and the deadly self-replicating virus continued to spread about the child's ever-weakening body. | It's so cold here in this tundra. The summers are great for farming, but the winters are terrible. My baby, to my right, and I have no food. We ran out of crops since the beginning of winter, and ran out of meat yesterday. I would go hunting for bears and wolves right now, but I don't have a rifle. Without one, taking on a bear or wolf would be dangerous. I need food. I look down to the right. It'll have to do. | |
[WP]Write a story that isn't scary until the last line is read. | It's true what they say. Fall is really the best time of the year. To my family and I, it's really the only time we get to enjoy together. Especially halloween. We LOVE halloween so much. It's our favorite holiday. Getting to see all the kids dressed up in their scary and funny costumes. I really think my mother enjoys it the most. She always has such a huge smile when she's out in the yard getting to see the kids. My dad just always has this same smirk every year it seems sitting on the porch. My parents don't get too get out too much, summer being too hot for them and winter just too cold. Fall seems to be just right for us. As I'm standing out here in our yard, I can just see how happy they look. Oh no, it looks like mom needs more straw. | Quick one here:
I love my wife. Her beautiful features are the first thing I think about every morning and the last thing I see as her soft singing lulls me to sleep. She died several months ago. | |
[WP]Write a story that isn't scary until the last line is read. | "Reunions are difficult. You never know who's going to be there, and you won't recognize most of them anyway. And when you do see someone you know, it feels weird because they look so different from how you remember. Sure, you're sentimental about the times you had together, but those are distant memories."
The car pulled to a stop in front of the school.
"Alright, lock and load. Fan out and don't fire until I toss the Molotov, or the biters will have time to swarm." | Quick one here:
I love my wife. Her beautiful features are the first thing I think about every morning and the last thing I see as her soft singing lulls me to sleep. She died several months ago. | |
[WP]Write a story that isn't scary until the last line is read. | The flowing highways allowed him to travel effortlessly to his destination. He didn't particularly care much about where exactly to get off, but he found a nice-enough looking spot just like any other of the choices destiny could have taken him to. With only what was on his back now, the pudgy thing let himself into the welcoming abode, and he went to find whoever was in charge. He had a strict agenda, and it was to be completed in only a matter of minutes. Although his entrance was unexpected, the little laborers of this place began to fulfill his work order, churning out the final product faster than he ever could have done alone. Rather unaware of any strategy or direction, he went outside again and proceeded down the highway to continue fulfilling his purpose.
By the time his order was complete, the hijacked cell had died, and the deadly self-replicating virus continued to spread about the child's ever-weakening body. | Quick one here:
I love my wife. Her beautiful features are the first thing I think about every morning and the last thing I see as her soft singing lulls me to sleep. She died several months ago. | |
[WP]Write a story that isn't scary until the last line is read. | "Reunions are difficult. You never know who's going to be there, and you won't recognize most of them anyway. And when you do see someone you know, it feels weird because they look so different from how you remember. Sure, you're sentimental about the times you had together, but those are distant memories."
The car pulled to a stop in front of the school.
"Alright, lock and load. Fan out and don't fire until I toss the Molotov, or the biters will have time to swarm." | It's true what they say. Fall is really the best time of the year. To my family and I, it's really the only time we get to enjoy together. Especially halloween. We LOVE halloween so much. It's our favorite holiday. Getting to see all the kids dressed up in their scary and funny costumes. I really think my mother enjoys it the most. She always has such a huge smile when she's out in the yard getting to see the kids. My dad just always has this same smirk every year it seems sitting on the porch. My parents don't get too get out too much, summer being too hot for them and winter just too cold. Fall seems to be just right for us. As I'm standing out here in our yard, I can just see how happy they look. Oh no, it looks like mom needs more straw. | |
[WP]Write a story that isn't scary until the last line is read. | The flowing highways allowed him to travel effortlessly to his destination. He didn't particularly care much about where exactly to get off, but he found a nice-enough looking spot just like any other of the choices destiny could have taken him to. With only what was on his back now, the pudgy thing let himself into the welcoming abode, and he went to find whoever was in charge. He had a strict agenda, and it was to be completed in only a matter of minutes. Although his entrance was unexpected, the little laborers of this place began to fulfill his work order, churning out the final product faster than he ever could have done alone. Rather unaware of any strategy or direction, he went outside again and proceeded down the highway to continue fulfilling his purpose.
By the time his order was complete, the hijacked cell had died, and the deadly self-replicating virus continued to spread about the child's ever-weakening body. | It's true what they say. Fall is really the best time of the year. To my family and I, it's really the only time we get to enjoy together. Especially halloween. We LOVE halloween so much. It's our favorite holiday. Getting to see all the kids dressed up in their scary and funny costumes. I really think my mother enjoys it the most. She always has such a huge smile when she's out in the yard getting to see the kids. My dad just always has this same smirk every year it seems sitting on the porch. My parents don't get too get out too much, summer being too hot for them and winter just too cold. Fall seems to be just right for us. As I'm standing out here in our yard, I can just see how happy they look. Oh no, it looks like mom needs more straw. | |
[WP] When Gabe Newell said that he will delay the release of Half-Life 3 by three months for each time he is asked about it, he meant it. He finished it long ago. The year is 25,083. Somewhere on the planet Earth, an ancient Valve server roars to life and connects to the galactic Internet... | I exhaled so deeply I thought the air had left me for dead for a second.
"Well, shit." I said, staring blankly at the credits as they rolled by. "That wasn't worth the wait at all." | *Faint Noises Of People Talking*
Alright, on my go push the button. 3.... 2.... 1.... NOW!
*Explosion Sound*
Me: Guys, guys it opened! We finally got it opened quick go tell the others!
*2 Minutes Later*
Me: Okay guys, listen up. We've been trying to open this vault for years now throwing everything we had at it, it's been here for as long as I can remember so it's structure probably isn't that stable. Don't touch anything you don't need to touch, be sure to watch where your stepping. You're all gonna need one of these.
*Starts Handing Out Hardhats*
Me: If you see anything that may be worth anything let us know.
*23 Minutes Later*
Friend: HEY, GUYS I THINK I FOUND SOMETHING!
*Walks over to him*
Friend: What do you think it is boss?
Me: I think it may be some sort of machine part or something.
*Dusts of the box to see the word "ValvE" imprinted on it."
Me: What in the heck is that?
Friend: Don't know boss but it sounds like something is spinning in there, let's take it back to the shop and see if we can take it apart.
*3 Hours and 37 Minutes Later*
Me: Hand me that screw driver, will ya? No the other one, yea that's the one. Wait a second, what are these holes at the back of this for? This looks like some sort of display port. Go grab an HDMI27 Cable.
*13 Minutes Later*
*Connects One End Of The HDMI27 Cable To The Box & The Other The TV.*
*Windows 7 Start-Up Sound Plays*
Me: Password? What the heck is this thing.....
Oh, this seems to be some sort of computer, go grab the wireless keyboard and mouse.
*Starts Trying Random Passwords*
Me: 1234, Nope.
Me: 4321, Nope.
Me: 1111, Yes it worked!
Me: What are all these icons, this one says steam on it. Is steam supposed to come out of this thing?
*Clicks on icon*
Me: Woah, what.. what is this? Store, Library is this some sort of digital mall?
"Clicks Library"
Me: Half-Life 3? Sounds like a interesting book.
Friend: It doesn't seem to be a book boss? Maybe it's a movie. Oh look, there's one of those little play buttons. Try clicking on it.
*Clicks*
*Half-Life 3 Loading Screen Appears*
Me: It's... It's just a picture?
*Picture Disappears, Pop Up Appears Reading:*
**Error#374cDJ: HL3.exe Has crashed. Please go to https://help.steampowered.com for further assistance**
*Faint Noises Of Someone Talking*
Mom: /u/Nitr0s0xideSys WAKE UP! YOU'RE LATE FOR THE BUS!!!
This was my first WP I have commented on, I have no idea if this is good or not but I thought I'd give it a shot. Feedback is appreciated :D
| |
[WP] At the end of a blind dinner date, you excuse yourself to the bathroom. When you return, the date seems to have started over from the beginning. This happens repeatedly. No matter what you do, you can't seem to end this date. | I have a feeling something is off the moment I get out of the bathroom, though I can’t place it. But I forget about it when I see that our table is empty. Have I been abandoned? No, Chad probably just went to the bathroom himself. Calm down. Look, there he is now.
But then he reaches out to shake my hand and says, “Sorry I’m late. Are you Annie?”
Is he playing some sort of weird joke? I’m caught off guard but for some reason I just nod. Maybe I think I’ll mess with him by playing along. Maybe a part of me can already tell he’s being completely sincere.
It’s when the server comes by that I know something is wrong. Haven’t we already ordered our food? Why is he asking us about drinks and appetizers “while we decide on our meals?” I hear the door open, and see a woman come in with a child. I don’t understand. I’ve seen them both already, a few minutes ago, when the child started throwing a loud tantrum while I was talking to Chad.
I start to feel sick. What is going on? I excuse myself to the bathroom. A strange look crosses Chad’s face for just a split second when I tell him. On my way over I bump into an employee. I apologize and he looks at me like I said something in a foreign language.
I get into the bathroom and splash some water on my face. I jump when I think I see a shadow dart across the wall behind me. Probably just my imagination. There’s no one else here, as these bathrooms are for single occupants. Yet as I exit I could swear I hear a faint giggling.
When I return to the table it’s empty again. I glance around. The woman and child aren’t at their table yet either. Our server is still chatting with one of his coworkers. Chad enters, reaches out to shake my hand and says, “Sorry I’m late. Are you Annie?” But when we make eye contact the strange look crosses his face again. He doesn’t remember, but still he knows something is wrong.
I introduce myself again, but after a minute I pretend to be getting a phone call and excuse myself. Before long I find myself walking through the bathroom doorway yet again.
I don’t know what to do. This time, before Chad even arrives, the employee I bumped into earlier grabs my arm.
“You can remember too, can’t you? I saw you. You do something different every time it resets,” he says. So I’m not going crazy. Maybe. I hear faint giggling again.
“How many times has it repeated for you?” he asks. I tell him it’s my fourth time. I learn that for him, in addition to looping whenever I entered the bathroom, it also rewound whenever he went through the kitchen doorway. We decide we shouldn’t go through either of these doors again for a while and that we should exit the building to see if we can figure out what’s going on.
But when we walk through the front door, he vanishes and suddenly I’m in the bathroom doorway again. I spot the employee emerging from the kitchen door a few seconds later.
It isn’t hard to find him, because this time something is different. Almost everyone else has vanished from the restaurant. And now the giggling is much, much louder. A shadow darts across the floor. I look out the window and see only a black void where the parking lot once stood.
We are trapped. | The stunning girl took a sip of wine, and smiled.
"You know", she started, "I once-"
"Yes, I know.", I interrupted, "You once "
The look on her face was of surprise, but mine was of utter boredom.
"How did you know that?"
"You told me before. Thirty-two times, actually."
I grab my plate of grilled salmon, and throw it to the other side of the restaurant. It lands on an old woman's hair, and immediately yelling and complaining from pretty much everyone ensure.
"Excuse me", I say with a big smile to the girl, her eyes as big as plates.
I walk to the bathroom, all eyes on me, and lock myself inside.
"How *long* am I supposed to do this? I'm going god damn crazy here!"
I punch the stalls one by one, leaving blood marks as I punch harder and harder. I break the mirror, spit on my broken reflection, and go out again.
The restaurant is in impeccable state, the old woman whom I had just minutes ago thrown my salmon eating in peace, my date looking through her phone and waiting for me.
"I *can't* do this anymore", I tell myself. Thirty two times I had endured the same. No matter what I did, no matter the choices I made every time, the moment I came out of that bathroom, everything was reset to the moment I said I needed to relieve myself, just before leaving.
And of course, I can't just leave this place. How could I explain, after having *insisted* I couldn't hold in my pee, that I changed my mind and would rather just leave? Yes, it's not unthinkable, but I'd rather find an alternative solution.
This time however, this time I'm pissed. I'm taking one more go at this, and this time I'm taking out my anger and frustration at everyone. Why not go crazy? I won't have an opportunity like this again.
----
Two waiters are bleeding on the floor.
The salmon-woman died of asphyxiation - the cause? Salmon jammed down her throat.
My date is shivering against a corner, her eyes never leaving my figure.
Looking around, I feel disgusted at myself, but it's fine - I'll rewind time one last time, and leave a big tip for these people - not that they would ever know or remember what happened here!
I walk to the bathroom among corpses, and take a deep breath.
I turn the handle, and - Huh?
It's locked? What?
"L-Leave me!", I hear the voice coming from the inside, " I called the police! I'm never opening this door!"
----
It's been 20 years, but finally I'm out of prison.
I didn't learn much from my time there, except one valuable lesson that I want to impart to you, my dear reader:
Never pee in restaurants.
----
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[WP] One Day, with no warning, a giant land mass forms in the Pacific Ocean, around the size of Africa. | "MIRACULOUS PARADISE CONTINENT APPEARS" is what the newspapers blared within a day of The Emergence. And a miracle it was indeed. No scientific institution on earth could explain anything about Etheria, as they named it; what it was, where it had come from, how it had avoided detection, how it had simply risen out of the ocean overnight and flooded practically every port city on earth. Of course, the more they learned about the continent, the less anyone cared about such petty questions.
Etheria was heaven on earth in every possible sense. Its lush beauty made the great natural wonders of the world look drab and petty in comparison. It was filled with strange and wondrous creatures that could only be described as normal earth animals but *better*, with beautiful forms and pelts, delicious meat, and a docile, almost domesticated demeanor towards humans. The climate was perfectly balmy, the air not just refreshing but *intoxicating*. And it was absolutely packed with natural resources; oil, gold, diamonds, rare-earth metals, anything, everything. Etheria was completely impossible. And yet it existed.
Every country on earth quickly moved to stake their claim on the miracle continent, of course, desperate to recover from the loss of their major cities. They acted as any pack of wolves with a steak dropped in their midst would. Borders were drawn, claims of ownership flew, soldiers marched and politicians preached and generals tensed in anticipation of what would surely be the largest, most destructive war in history.
And then it just...didn't happen. The world could only watch slack-jawed as the soldiers, settlers and scientists on Etheria joined hands like something out of a childrens' special and quite simply *refused* to fight. More yelling. More preaching. More confusion. Diplomats and deeds and dishonorable discharges, borders melting away as quickly as they were drawn and mortal enemies laughing companionably over mugs of miraculous Etherian coffee. Princes and Presidents banged and pleaded and swore, yet the fact remained obstinately, incredulously the same; nobody that they sent to Etheria would actually *fight*. At long last, world leaders agreed to a summit in Etheria, at which they would peaceably determine land claims once and for all. Six months later, they emerged holding an internationally-recognized treaty for Etheria's independence, looking nearly as confused as the reporters they were showing it to.
"This is completely unprecedented," the pundits repeated over and over again, as everything they thought they knew collapsed around them. "This is totally and utterly impossible." And yet it happened.
The Etherian Republic exploded in status faster than anybody could have thought possible. Immigrants came from across the globe, many of them refugees from destroyed major cities; and with them, billions upon billions in corporate investment poured in. Companies swooped in like vultures, eager to wring the continent dry, and thousands of jobs followed in their wake. City after city after city cropped up, all of them growing fat and rich off of resources, tourism, and, very soon, tech and other industries. Green jungle was cleared away and roads, homes and schools appeared in its place. Normally, such a boom would be a veritable festival of greed and corruption, a feeding frenzy that would leave behind little but stripped forest and broken promises. And yet...it wasn't. The fledgeling republic and the companies it had contracted invested heavily in Etheria itself, building cities that seemed to have come from a utopian sci-fi dream. Infrastructure, tech, green energy, entertainment, *everything* boomed, and Etheria's coffers seemed bottomless. Within a mere twenty years, Etheria was not a stripped, abused rock as the economists had predicted, but a first-world country in its own right. Its great cities matched and then surpassed the likes of New York and Hong Kong. The rest of the world watched practically helplessly as Etheria outdid them in every measurable statistic: education, wealth, happiness, social programs, equality, culture, even military. It was a veritable utopia. Some religions claimed it as the coming of heaven on earth, yet religious conflicts on Etheria itself were somehow nonexistent. "This is impossible. This can't be happening," world leaders whispered as their populations dropped, their taxpayers lured away like moths to a flame. And yet it was.
Etheria, after several decades, contained the majority of the earth's total population. The jungles were mostly gone now, save for the many environmental preserves, and in their place was a massive metropolis that seemed like something out of a sci-fi novel. Towering buildings, self-operating trains, beautiful parks and architecture as far as the eye could see. There were no wars, no conflicts. Capitalism had been abandoned long ago; what need was there for currency when labor was done by robots and Etheria could provide anything you had ever wanted? Joys were abundant, troubles were few, people were friendly, and life was peaceful. So peaceful, in fact, that very, very few noticed the signs. There was no reason to look for them, really, no reason to care. Those scarce, sad few still outside Etheria cared, but what did they know, really? Nobody really cared what they thought, not when Etheria held every world-class university.
So nobody really cared that the water had been rising, inch by inch, for the last month or so. Nobody really cared about the strange, almost-yet-not-quite biological structures deep, deep within the miracle continent's crust. Nobody cared that the ocean around Etheria had been getting steadily more and more acidic for the past hour. Nobody cared about the strange liquid bubbling up from the earth, eating away at their roads, their floors, their shoes, their skin. Nobody cared that what they'd been breathing these last eighty years wasn't *quite* air. Nobody cared how docile and passive the average Etherian was, or their intense, almost manic aversion to the idea of leaving the continent.
Nobody cared when the waters began to wash down the streets as the continent sank, sweeping away bodies and trains. Nobody cared as the buildings began to fall, their mighty bases eaten away. Nobody cared as clothes dissolved, as legs failed, as flesh sloughed off and bone crumbled away. Nobody cared as the men in helicopters came, screaming at them, shaking them, offering their hands and generally disturbing a perfectly good afternoon.
Nobody cared as something impossibly hungry deep below the oceans stirred, about to be rewarded for nearly a century of patience.
"*Impossible*," a soldier choked through her gas mask as a little girl's peaceful face melted away to reveal the skull grinning beneath.
And yet, it wasn't. | > INTERNATIONAL SPACE STATION
> Hey, Jim, come take a look at this**
> What is it Sa- Was there always an island there.*
> No. It just showed up. I look away for 5 seconds and there's and island that wasn't there before.**
> That's awful quick for a volcanic eruption*
> Yeah, and by the looks of it it's still growing**
> Jim, Sal- what the fuck is that thing doing there?***
> We don't know. It's a landmass, and it's growing.*
> I'm going to fetch Dmitri and Suun, they'll probably want to see this***
> Yeah, that's probably a good ide- is it just me or is north america looking smalle-*
> Someone needs to check the comms**
> I'll go, start writing notes*
-15 minutes later-
> Well, we've lost contact with the Cosmodrome, Jamie's trying to raise NASA. How big is the landmass*
> Bigger than Tasmania**
> Still growing too, just noticed another one of Hawaii's islands vanish.***
> There's a very good chance that in less than 24 hours, there will no more than 52 living humans. 8 on this station, 4 on Pearson Station, 16 on the lunar base, and 24 on the mars base.****
> Let's hope it doesn't get that bad.*
-2 Hours Later-
> And there goes Everest. (Sigh). There's bound to be a few people on planes and boats that survived, but even if they find someplace to go it will be a very long time before we're able to regain contact. And even if we do re-establish contact, they'll have no means of reaching us, and we'll likely have no means of reaching them. So, as of now, consider the Earth a lost cause, and Humanity an endangered species. We're not Extinct yet though. We have 52 individuals, 31 men, 21 women, that stand a chance of uniting to create some form of society, all of whom are incredibly capable and talented. That said, we're scattered. On our own, the ISS and Pearson won't last more than 6 months.**
> So we need to head to mars. They have the most reliable sources of Oxygen, and Mars has water, soil, and minerals, so it's the most likely to be able to sustain us. The Pearson has 3 shuttles, we have 2. With a bit of tampering, we'll be able to rig the Pearson Station to make the journey to Mars, and we'll have enough rations to sustain the trip. We're lucky enough to still have a Lander in orbit around mars, which should get us down to the planet, and the Rovers should allow us to reach the Mars Base.*****
> We're not dead yet**
> Not yet*** | |
[WP] You are an anonymous assasin taking hit requests online. Today you received a message with the title, '1 million for this one.' Attached is a picture of yourself. | The dead eyes of a face he was used to seeing in the mirror stared back at him from the screen. "1 million for this one" was all it said. The post was only 4 hours old and already it had risen to the top of the feed. It seemed like every assassin within 1,000 square miles was out to kill him.
He closed his laptop, pushed away from his desk and swiveled in his chair. His shaved head tilted back looking up toward the eggshell ceiling. He breathed, slowly. The adrenaline should have kicked in by now; and yet, there was nothing.
There was a time, only a short while ago, that he would have already been 15 miles down the road heading to a different black site. Those were better days. Days where he actually gave a shit. Now, he just continued to swivel.
His head lolled to the side and he focused in on a black leather bag that had been unceremoniously thrown on the floor. He had recently finished a job. Last night had been pay day. It was supposed to be his last job. He was supposed to be done. Officially Retired.
"No rest for the wicked." He said out loud to any ghosts that might be lurking in the room.
Killing was his profession, and he was good at it. Forty-nine successful hits. Forty-nine people dead because someone else wanted them to be, but didn't have the balls to do it themselves. Forty-nine paydays. He had no idea why he didn't just go for an even fifty. It would look better on his resume.
How many minutes had gone by? Thirty minutes! He'd been swiveling for thirty minutes. Why wasn't he moving? Why wasn't his fight or flight instinct kicking in? Perhaps this life truly had taken a toll on him. Maybe taking another person's life also stole a piece of your own. After forty-nine kills it was no wonder he didn't have anything left inside.
Glass shattered. The curtain shifted. The wood floor in front splintered in two different places. Warmth poured out from his chest. A cough, a wheeze, and a third shot to the head. Black.
On a nearby rooftop, an assassin's phone vibrated. He had entered the kill confirmation only a couple of minutes ago. He opened the message with the instructions on how to collect the million that was waiting for him. The subject line said, "Thank you." The message itself was short and to the point.
"The million is in a black leather bag on the floor next to me. The door is unlocked." | On the web Looking for a job,
A sniff, a hint for the slob
That'll be my next hit.
A ping, aha! Time to kill
My next paycheck - just grist to the mill.
Now who is this little tit?
Oh no, oh dear,
The one thing I fear -
*I've* been issued a Death writ.
Right; time to take flight,
I run off into the night
But not before grabbing my kit.
I'll Nip this scenario in the bud,
Bury this buyer in the mud,
The little shi... git. | |
[WP] You are an anonymous assasin taking hit requests online. Today you received a message with the title, '1 million for this one.' Attached is a picture of yourself. | The dead eyes of a face he was used to seeing in the mirror stared back at him from the screen. "1 million for this one" was all it said. The post was only 4 hours old and already it had risen to the top of the feed. It seemed like every assassin within 1,000 square miles was out to kill him.
He closed his laptop, pushed away from his desk and swiveled in his chair. His shaved head tilted back looking up toward the eggshell ceiling. He breathed, slowly. The adrenaline should have kicked in by now; and yet, there was nothing.
There was a time, only a short while ago, that he would have already been 15 miles down the road heading to a different black site. Those were better days. Days where he actually gave a shit. Now, he just continued to swivel.
His head lolled to the side and he focused in on a black leather bag that had been unceremoniously thrown on the floor. He had recently finished a job. Last night had been pay day. It was supposed to be his last job. He was supposed to be done. Officially Retired.
"No rest for the wicked." He said out loud to any ghosts that might be lurking in the room.
Killing was his profession, and he was good at it. Forty-nine successful hits. Forty-nine people dead because someone else wanted them to be, but didn't have the balls to do it themselves. Forty-nine paydays. He had no idea why he didn't just go for an even fifty. It would look better on his resume.
How many minutes had gone by? Thirty minutes! He'd been swiveling for thirty minutes. Why wasn't he moving? Why wasn't his fight or flight instinct kicking in? Perhaps this life truly had taken a toll on him. Maybe taking another person's life also stole a piece of your own. After forty-nine kills it was no wonder he didn't have anything left inside.
Glass shattered. The curtain shifted. The wood floor in front splintered in two different places. Warmth poured out from his chest. A cough, a wheeze, and a third shot to the head. Black.
On a nearby rooftop, an assassin's phone vibrated. He had entered the kill confirmation only a couple of minutes ago. He opened the message with the instructions on how to collect the million that was waiting for him. The subject line said, "Thank you." The message itself was short and to the point.
"The million is in a black leather bag on the floor next to me. The door is unlocked." | Reneged? The fuck you mean reneged? 29 years, 51 weeks, 5 days, 7 hours, and 23 minutes for this goddamned place; and my pension is being reneged? Barely more than a day from retirement, and they pull this shit? Ive done way to much shit, seen to much shit for this to happen. 1,800 confirmed hits, more than half just regular civilians. The countless hours performing 'enhanced coercive interrogation techniques', and so much other fucked up shit off the record. For what, some cruel fucking joke with no pension?
The Corporation sent me a new hit last night, it said:
MR. SUNDAY, WE HAVE RENEGOTIATED YOUR RETIREMENT. ONE LAST HIT FOR $1,000,000. NO PENSION. NO HEALTHCARE. NO CONTACT ONCE COMPLETED. THE TARGET: YOU.
IF YOU REFUSE THE HIT, SHOW UP AT THE USUAL PLACE FOR A DEBRIEFING.
That shits low. I mean a good way to tie loose ends. If I kill myself, I've assured my families financial future, and The Corporation does not have to worry about me disclosing their secrets. Secrets like how they're actually a branch of the U.S. Government.
Luckily for me I hate my family, and fucking love revenge. And how stupid do they think I am? There is no way I would report to that debriefing (think two bullets in the back of my head and an unmarked grave in the desert). They can fuck themselves with a splintering piece of balsa wood.
I'm going to the Russians or the Chinese. They'll pay top dollar for what I know. I'll show those fuckers how to renege. I'll have my retirement, and so much more. | |
[WP] You are a retired Dark Lord, living in the countryside. Ten years after your crushing defeat the heroes come for your help. | William Ramlov listened to them bickering on his front porch, their muffled, angry conversation pushing through the front door. It was a sound he dreaded even after his retirement, and one he had hoped to never hear again. Leaning on his staff, he looked through the peephole and saw exactly what he expected: the misfit heroes who made him quit in the first place.
All but one of them were there, yammering and gesticulating and drawing the attention of William’s neighbors. There, with crossed arms, was Siegfried the Righteous, wearing his polished, blinding armor. He still had the same golden curls from their previous encounters, if a little longer, but he had grown out a well-trimmed beard. William would not have recognized him without those handsome features, seeing as the paladin had equipped himself with new armaments. It was a gaudy outfit that included thick, bronze gauntlets, leather boots, and even a green cape that failed to match with each other. Siegfried’s chest piece was the only thing he seemed to have kept, with all its batters and scratches.
Siegfried was looking down at a gnome in stylish attire, carrying a small lute slung over his shoulder. Quilby Sixstring stood up to the paladin’s waist, still wearing his clownish, purple costume with puffed-out leggings and frilled sleeves. The bard was glancing around as he spoke, looking past the knees of his two compatriots and down the country road.
Towering above both of them was a mountain of an orc, clad in thick furs and leathers, none of which covered his barrel chest. Throkk Skullsmasher looked between his two allies with a grimace that deepened each time he turned his head. He tapped his foot on the wooden porch, the metal toe of his boot scraping the panels. William hoped he would not leave marks, considering how much work he put into making it.
Indeed, all of them were there, save for Rivvia, but if these people were at his doorstep, William had a suspicion of where that scoundrel might be. He was tempted to keep the door closed and ignore them. Maybe they would decide he was not home, and would leave him alone forever, as he always intended. Considering their track record with William’s previous towers and forts, however, he doubted that would happen. In any case, they were here for a reason, and they would not leave until they found what they were looking for.
*Miserable miscreants,* thought William. *Why can’t they just leave an old man alone?*
Taking a deep breath, William reached for the door knob, but his hand fell limp on the handle. He could feel himself turning to jelly at the prospect of facing his old enemies again. William turned to go back to his room, but his eyes caught something on the table next to the door. It was a leather collar with small, silver tags, sitting on a small, blue cloth. William caressed the collar, jangling the silver tags which read, simply: Melvin.
The bickering stopped. William clutched the collar and took in another breath. They knew someone was home. He might as well get it over with.
William cracked open the door and looked at the heroes standing before him. Siegfried had his hands to his sides, uncertainty clouding his face. It seemed he could not decide whether or not to smile, and the resulting expression was a half-cocked grin combined with worried eyes. Throkk, meanwhile, had decided that he would keep a countenance of visible displeasure, glaring at William and jutting out his lower tusks. William tried to imagine what Throkk might look like when he wasn’t frowning, and visualized a young orc with more wrinkles on his face than a walrus’s behind. Looking down, William saw Quilby standing before him with a big, gleaming smile on his face, and his arms open wide.
Quilby exclaimed, “Bill!”
The door slammed shut. | The tranquillity of the cemetery was interrupted by the rhythmical hits of the shovel against dirt. Chop, shlick, plop. Chop, shlick, plop. A shirtless man was digging a fresh grave, his muscular skin glistening with sweat. His actions were well-rehearsed, indicating enormous amount of experience, but his mind was elsewhere, digging into the past as he dug into the Earth.
Patrick Thompson, formerly known as Mr. Greed, ran his shovel into the dirt and wiped the forehead, breathing heavily. It was time to take a little rest. Not that the future owner of this place would mind the delay.
He jumped out of the hole in the ground and went to a satchel to retrieve the water, but he wasn’t alone here.
Several metres above the ground, The Justice Man floated, clad in his usual white attire, red cape waving behind his back. His perfect, handsome face was stern, as if he did not want to be here. As always, he emanated a supernatural sense of righteousness that almost caused Patrick to puke.
And as always, he was not alone, dragging his team along. Iron Hope stood twenty metres away, wearing a new, three metres tall experimental suit of armour, painted like hotrod. This time, it were twin cannons on his back, powered by an alien device that kept him alive. Last time Mr. Greed saw him, it were shock spikes, that disabled the G-mech, allowing Justice Man to deliver the final blow. That confrontation felt so distant…
Next to him, a government jeep was parked, it’s windows tinted.
– Graves, huh? – Justice Man’s voice was what you would expect from a man that was blindly devoted to his rightful ideas, unable to see anything in grayscale.
– They don’t judge me, - Mr. Greed said, raising hands and locking them behind his head. – Took you long enough, now arrest me and be done with it.
– We’re not here for that, - Gridlock’s voice came from the armoured car. She was dressed the same way she always was: black skintight bodysuit with blue neon streaks along her limbs. Her mask was riddled with thin lines, showing her capabilities to interact with technology of any calibre.
– Oh? – Patrick lowered his hands, smile creeping across his bearded face. - What’s it going to be then? A friendly reunion? A poker night? I gotta warn you, I am one of the best in this village…
– We… we need your help, - for a man, literally wearing a tank, Iron Hope sounded surprisingly unsure.
Mr. Greed looked at the team of superheroes that defeated him and took his company away a very long time ago, and laughed. His laughter was that of pure, unfiltered joy, flowing in a hysterical, almost maniacal way. As Gridlock tried to interrupt him, he raised his finger, causing her to stop.
– This! This is just rich! They come crawling here, half of the country away, to ask an escaped criminal to help! Oh! Oh, this is my moment. This was all worth it! This is just… Too good, - Mr. Greed choked on his last words, coughing from tears of joy. He walked by the Justice Man to retrieve the water.
– Yeah, we get it, you are a complete ass… - a young voice, not known to Patrick, came from the car. He turned to it, seeing a teenage boy wearing something that resembled green pyjamas. – It’s clear he won’t help, can we go back and figure the plan on our own?
– Oh, you guys clearly did not have enough brains between the three of you to figure this out, so you’ve decided to abduct a kid? What do I call you? Justice Jr.?
– I am ZigZag, and I… - the boy disappeared and reappeared an arm’s length away from Patrick. – Am the fastest guy on the planet! You’d better not be mean to my friends here, or you’ll find yourself in Alaska in a second.
– Superspeed, huh? – Mr. Greed had to force his mind to stop calculating the possible weaknesses and ways to exploit his new adversary. Old habits died hard.
– That is new. In any case, what is this about? My client is waiting.
– Do you know Trevor Halsey? Also known as Greed Master? – Gridlock’s speech was dry and to the point.
– I taught him, along like… fifty other cadets in one of my secret hideouts. He was quite promising, but his evil ways were too unrefined. He preferred total annihilation to methodical moral destruction… Like the one I see here, - Patrick smiled, gesturing at the team of superheroes. - What about him?
– He is the head of the G-corp, and it has gone off the rails. It started blackmailing civilians, amassing weapons, gathering supplies for some massive operation. We’re afraid it’s going to topple our government, - Justice Man was uneasy, constantly looking over the horizon. Patrick had no doubts he could hear the distant cries for help, but as a leader of the superhero team, he had to be here.
– See? Ten years after my disappearance, and my corporation did not only survive, but prospered! I think, that is a true testament to my genius!
– Greed Master…
– Has some nerve stealing my title, I’ll give him that, - Patrick touched his chin, trying to remember details about Trevor. – But meh, It doesn’t sound as good as Mr. Greed anyway.
– That is beside the point! – Iron Hope stomped the ground, shaking the apples off a nearby tree. – We need your help to take him down, or this country will suffer!
Patrick looked at faces of all four heroes, savouring their despair.
– You should have seen this coming, you know… - he almost whispered, barely containing his laughter. – Okay, Iron Hope is dumb as a steel bar, Justice Man is just too blind to see, Justice Jr. was probably learning the potty at that point, but Gridlock? You disappointed me, seriously! At first, such talent goes full altruist, and then – completely misses the obvious thing! I was a tip of the iceberg, and a clearly visible tip at that! Cut me off… And you wake up very bad things, sleeping in the ice. So… My answer is no!
The smile he got from seeing their shock almost split his face in two.
– We took so much time to find him… - Zigzag clenched his tiny fists in anger.
– Why? – Iron Hope asked, taking a step towards Patrick.
– It’s simple, really. You did not suffer enough, - Mr. Greed raised his hands to the sky. – You see, ten years ago you won. But that is what you always do – you miss the big picture. You are a patch on the leaking pipe – run around frantically, trying to find the place to apply yourself as the whole building crumbles! And I win! Win in a long game!
Justice Man flew closer to Patrick, his features showing a mix of anger and weariness.
– Please, Patrick. We…
– How does it feel to be powerless, Justice Man? – Mr. Greed smiled again, his words seeping with contempt. – Invulnerable, super-fast, super-strong, able to fly… But when the world as a whole decays – you are nothing. Of course, you inspire people, you show them that they can be better. But “better” does not feed families…
– Listen, Patrick, - Gridlock came closer, her face frozen in a scowl. – You were better than Trevor. You had principles. You never attacked on holidays…
– Because I celebrated myself, duh.
– Never touched our headquarters…
– Yeah, you have a building in a shape of an X on a distant island. How dumb is that?
– Never blackmailed us…
– It’s about mind versus might, dear, not about cheap tricks.
– So please. I beg you. Please help us. We won’t be able to defeat him without your knowledge, and we have already lost enough. Our headquarters blown up, people’s support vanished, our families are kidnapped and held hostage.
Patrick looked at the Justice Man.
– One condition. This man. The best of you all. The noblest. The purest. Must say that I am better. That I…
– You are better, - Justice Man said without hesitation.
– I… You… No pride? You seriously have no pride?! There should have been fanfares and fireworks! – Mr. Greed practically shouted at a man floating in front of him. – Just like that? Too easy, no! Just not right! There was no soul in it!..
– You. Are. Better, - Justice Man repeated, his voice the most honest thing a man could hear.
– You defiled these words! You sucked out the whole fun, the whole triumph! – Patrick flailed his hands in anger. – This is why you lose! You are too good! Too righteous!!! Gah!
The graveyard fell silent as Patrick rubbed his temples in anger.
– I need my suit, - he said finally.
A black as coal tuxedo appeared in his hands along with a cane and shoes as Zigzag dashed to the car and back.
He savoured the smell and feel of satin against his skin after all these years.
Fresh shirt felt a little tight against muscles he developed while digging graves, but it still fit. He brushed his hair back, groomed his beard and raised the teleporting device disguised as cane to the sun, checking it for damage.
Everything was as he left it.
– I always wanted to have my own team of superheroes… - Mr. Greed smiled. – Let’s get to work! | |
[WP] You are a retired Dark Lord, living in the countryside. Ten years after your crushing defeat the heroes come for your help. | The group came riding down the road. The procession was so large it kicked up the dust and signalled their arrival long before the colorful banners were visible.
Such a different sight. I remembered when the King was just a prince--an exiled prince. He had barely a penny to his name and had a bounty on his head. Stealing into the castle at night by wading through human waste, all to open the gates so his allies could break through the castles defenses.
I watched their approach, strolling through the garden and checking on the growth of my pea plants. Small green strings, bright and new in the sun grew on vibrant vines. Rows upon rows of carefully tended to and cared for plants. My plants. My pride.
As the procession came winding through the town, I pulled out my long pipe from it's place in my robes and put it in my mouth. With the same hand, I began stuffing the bowl with pinches of dried sweet weed.
By the time the procession came to the bottom of the monastery's hill, I was puffing pleasantly on my pipe and sitting at the end of my little garden, calmly awaiting what was coming.
The Lady of the Sun taught me many things. None of what she taught could have prepared me for seeing him again.
He rode a bright white horse and was wreathed in white and gold. A symbolic gesture I am sure he growled at having to wear. He was never one for finery. He made a point to punish the nobles who had indulged im excess while the rest of the country starved under ruthless taxes and famine.
But now here he was-- the figure he had fought to be. Figures are symbols more then people. White was for rebirth and gold was for prosperity-- the two things the new King had come to represent.
He was surrounded by guards I was vaguely familiar with and a woman in black rode alongside him. She, I remembered, as it was her spell that broke the castle door and dropped the bridge. The castle was taken in that moment.
Seeing them was difficult. Old feelings grew and festered in the pit of my stomach. Anger and frustration. Regret at what I had lost and what had been taken.
I turned my face to the Sun and basked in her glory. I let the rays burn away my darker feelings as the memories came back to me. Of his eyes, wild with victory as he struck out at me. As his sword met my arm, slicing through the magic I was using to escape and down through the bone.
I meditated on my defeat and the New King's arrival. Since the omens, I knew it would come to this. The omens that spoke of the waking of an evil far greater than my arrogance and greed could ever match.
My thoughts of the Sun steeled me for the coming confrontation.
Their metal armor they wore announced their entrance long before Brother Alto spoke.
"Brother Yarris--the King has come to--"
He was cut off by shuffling and angry footsteps. The New King came around the rows of pea plants and faced me for the first time in a decade.
Age had been kind to him, but worry had not. Wrinkles now graced his brow and their was the weight of the world on his shoulders.
His expression was one of surprise and shock. Puffing on my pipe, I gave him a moment to collect himself. When it became clear he would find no words, I pulled the pipe from my mouth and spoke for him. "Quite the mighty swing," I said waving my stump of a left arm. "I hear songs about it from the tavern every night."
"What... What have you been doing?" He demanded almost accusingly but half out of shock.
"Breeding pea plants," I said.
"Brother Yarris made a frost resistant breed. Allowing for longer growing seasons for them," Brother Alto mentioned with pride. "Genius work-- brother Yarris really is a brilliant--"
Brother Alto was silenced by a sidelong glare from the woman in black. She was as stoic as always, barely showing her true feelings.
"Go attend to your squashes, Alto, I will be fine," I told him shooing him away with a wave of the pipe.
As the other Brother left, the New King grappled with what he was seeing. He shifted uncomfortably and rubbed his face with two hands before exclaiming in disbelief, "Pea plants? All your power, your knowledge and you breed pea plants?"
"That will feed families for centuries," I said contentedly. I looked at my rows of plants puffing on the pipe. "Probably the only good thing I have ever done."
The look on the New King's face made me knit my eyebrows together.
"Come now, boy. We both know I had next to nothing to do with how you turned out," I waved at the stoic woman. "She had more to do with it then I could have ever hoped to."
The New King narrowed his eyes at me as though seeing me for the first time. I took a moment to look at my pea plants and mourn the loss of my peaceful productive life.
"Well. The Winter Dragon isn't going to kill itself. And apparently you need this old cripple to do it," I slapped the New King on the shoulder. "Come now boy, help your old man die a hero." | The tranquillity of the cemetery was interrupted by the rhythmical hits of the shovel against dirt. Chop, shlick, plop. Chop, shlick, plop. A shirtless man was digging a fresh grave, his muscular skin glistening with sweat. His actions were well-rehearsed, indicating enormous amount of experience, but his mind was elsewhere, digging into the past as he dug into the Earth.
Patrick Thompson, formerly known as Mr. Greed, ran his shovel into the dirt and wiped the forehead, breathing heavily. It was time to take a little rest. Not that the future owner of this place would mind the delay.
He jumped out of the hole in the ground and went to a satchel to retrieve the water, but he wasn’t alone here.
Several metres above the ground, The Justice Man floated, clad in his usual white attire, red cape waving behind his back. His perfect, handsome face was stern, as if he did not want to be here. As always, he emanated a supernatural sense of righteousness that almost caused Patrick to puke.
And as always, he was not alone, dragging his team along. Iron Hope stood twenty metres away, wearing a new, three metres tall experimental suit of armour, painted like hotrod. This time, it were twin cannons on his back, powered by an alien device that kept him alive. Last time Mr. Greed saw him, it were shock spikes, that disabled the G-mech, allowing Justice Man to deliver the final blow. That confrontation felt so distant…
Next to him, a government jeep was parked, it’s windows tinted.
– Graves, huh? – Justice Man’s voice was what you would expect from a man that was blindly devoted to his rightful ideas, unable to see anything in grayscale.
– They don’t judge me, - Mr. Greed said, raising hands and locking them behind his head. – Took you long enough, now arrest me and be done with it.
– We’re not here for that, - Gridlock’s voice came from the armoured car. She was dressed the same way she always was: black skintight bodysuit with blue neon streaks along her limbs. Her mask was riddled with thin lines, showing her capabilities to interact with technology of any calibre.
– Oh? – Patrick lowered his hands, smile creeping across his bearded face. - What’s it going to be then? A friendly reunion? A poker night? I gotta warn you, I am one of the best in this village…
– We… we need your help, - for a man, literally wearing a tank, Iron Hope sounded surprisingly unsure.
Mr. Greed looked at the team of superheroes that defeated him and took his company away a very long time ago, and laughed. His laughter was that of pure, unfiltered joy, flowing in a hysterical, almost maniacal way. As Gridlock tried to interrupt him, he raised his finger, causing her to stop.
– This! This is just rich! They come crawling here, half of the country away, to ask an escaped criminal to help! Oh! Oh, this is my moment. This was all worth it! This is just… Too good, - Mr. Greed choked on his last words, coughing from tears of joy. He walked by the Justice Man to retrieve the water.
– Yeah, we get it, you are a complete ass… - a young voice, not known to Patrick, came from the car. He turned to it, seeing a teenage boy wearing something that resembled green pyjamas. – It’s clear he won’t help, can we go back and figure the plan on our own?
– Oh, you guys clearly did not have enough brains between the three of you to figure this out, so you’ve decided to abduct a kid? What do I call you? Justice Jr.?
– I am ZigZag, and I… - the boy disappeared and reappeared an arm’s length away from Patrick. – Am the fastest guy on the planet! You’d better not be mean to my friends here, or you’ll find yourself in Alaska in a second.
– Superspeed, huh? – Mr. Greed had to force his mind to stop calculating the possible weaknesses and ways to exploit his new adversary. Old habits died hard.
– That is new. In any case, what is this about? My client is waiting.
– Do you know Trevor Halsey? Also known as Greed Master? – Gridlock’s speech was dry and to the point.
– I taught him, along like… fifty other cadets in one of my secret hideouts. He was quite promising, but his evil ways were too unrefined. He preferred total annihilation to methodical moral destruction… Like the one I see here, - Patrick smiled, gesturing at the team of superheroes. - What about him?
– He is the head of the G-corp, and it has gone off the rails. It started blackmailing civilians, amassing weapons, gathering supplies for some massive operation. We’re afraid it’s going to topple our government, - Justice Man was uneasy, constantly looking over the horizon. Patrick had no doubts he could hear the distant cries for help, but as a leader of the superhero team, he had to be here.
– See? Ten years after my disappearance, and my corporation did not only survive, but prospered! I think, that is a true testament to my genius!
– Greed Master…
– Has some nerve stealing my title, I’ll give him that, - Patrick touched his chin, trying to remember details about Trevor. – But meh, It doesn’t sound as good as Mr. Greed anyway.
– That is beside the point! – Iron Hope stomped the ground, shaking the apples off a nearby tree. – We need your help to take him down, or this country will suffer!
Patrick looked at faces of all four heroes, savouring their despair.
– You should have seen this coming, you know… - he almost whispered, barely containing his laughter. – Okay, Iron Hope is dumb as a steel bar, Justice Man is just too blind to see, Justice Jr. was probably learning the potty at that point, but Gridlock? You disappointed me, seriously! At first, such talent goes full altruist, and then – completely misses the obvious thing! I was a tip of the iceberg, and a clearly visible tip at that! Cut me off… And you wake up very bad things, sleeping in the ice. So… My answer is no!
The smile he got from seeing their shock almost split his face in two.
– We took so much time to find him… - Zigzag clenched his tiny fists in anger.
– Why? – Iron Hope asked, taking a step towards Patrick.
– It’s simple, really. You did not suffer enough, - Mr. Greed raised his hands to the sky. – You see, ten years ago you won. But that is what you always do – you miss the big picture. You are a patch on the leaking pipe – run around frantically, trying to find the place to apply yourself as the whole building crumbles! And I win! Win in a long game!
Justice Man flew closer to Patrick, his features showing a mix of anger and weariness.
– Please, Patrick. We…
– How does it feel to be powerless, Justice Man? – Mr. Greed smiled again, his words seeping with contempt. – Invulnerable, super-fast, super-strong, able to fly… But when the world as a whole decays – you are nothing. Of course, you inspire people, you show them that they can be better. But “better” does not feed families…
– Listen, Patrick, - Gridlock came closer, her face frozen in a scowl. – You were better than Trevor. You had principles. You never attacked on holidays…
– Because I celebrated myself, duh.
– Never touched our headquarters…
– Yeah, you have a building in a shape of an X on a distant island. How dumb is that?
– Never blackmailed us…
– It’s about mind versus might, dear, not about cheap tricks.
– So please. I beg you. Please help us. We won’t be able to defeat him without your knowledge, and we have already lost enough. Our headquarters blown up, people’s support vanished, our families are kidnapped and held hostage.
Patrick looked at the Justice Man.
– One condition. This man. The best of you all. The noblest. The purest. Must say that I am better. That I…
– You are better, - Justice Man said without hesitation.
– I… You… No pride? You seriously have no pride?! There should have been fanfares and fireworks! – Mr. Greed practically shouted at a man floating in front of him. – Just like that? Too easy, no! Just not right! There was no soul in it!..
– You. Are. Better, - Justice Man repeated, his voice the most honest thing a man could hear.
– You defiled these words! You sucked out the whole fun, the whole triumph! – Patrick flailed his hands in anger. – This is why you lose! You are too good! Too righteous!!! Gah!
The graveyard fell silent as Patrick rubbed his temples in anger.
– I need my suit, - he said finally.
A black as coal tuxedo appeared in his hands along with a cane and shoes as Zigzag dashed to the car and back.
He savoured the smell and feel of satin against his skin after all these years.
Fresh shirt felt a little tight against muscles he developed while digging graves, but it still fit. He brushed his hair back, groomed his beard and raised the teleporting device disguised as cane to the sun, checking it for damage.
Everything was as he left it.
– I always wanted to have my own team of superheroes… - Mr. Greed smiled. – Let’s get to work! | |
[WP] You are a retired Dark Lord, living in the countryside. Ten years after your crushing defeat the heroes come for your help. | I could never understand why the name 'Dark Lord Jerimiah' had stuck. Compared to all the other names, this one struck me as the least accurate. My name wasn't even Jerimiah, it was Jole. 'Great Conqueror Joseph' was a bit more accurate even though the name was still incorrect. Another one I didn't understand was 'The Man of Iron Blood, Joshua'. It had an interesting ring to it but it still felt off. My wife's favorite was 'The Other Dragon of Derastoma' which at least avoided guessing my name. I admit that now, looking back on it, I have grown fonder if the name. Yet it was 'The Dark Lord Jerimiah' that had seem to stick and was repeated by many offenders of Derastoma.
I wasn't a Lord in the any sense of the word. I never owned any land nor had I received any sort of title from the king. Hell, before my intervention this kingdom wasn't much of a kingdom much less had a king.
I had once been called a hero by the people of this kingdom, and still am by some. Yet after the kingdom had been established and the people of the lands unified, enemies arose to conquer it. So I stepped up to defend it. And I continued to defend it until my thoughts when from just keeping me enemies back to deciding to niy have anymore enemies. It was around then that the name 'Dark Lord' and 'Great Conqueror' began to pop up and hang around like flies.
So when someone called out, "Dark Lord Jerimiah! Are you there?" I was a bit confused. My daughter looked over to me, confusion and worry etched in her face. I gave her a reassuring smile but whispered, "It's alright Durra. Go find your mother. Careful not to wake her though."
She nodded and went towards the house as I looked around for something to defend myself with. I didn't need it as I could break steal with only my hands but it might help to look intimidating. I settle in the hoe but felt slightly embarrassed carrying it about. A once great conqueror now using a hoe for a weapon? It would look humoerous to anyone.
It took them some time but eventually they broke over the hill and I identified them immediately. The Heroes of Nations; Drogen of the Blade from Estoria, Elara the Marksmen of Dales, The walking Mountain Fors of Great Flerance, The Master Magus Galadria of Zertemia, Gaefus the Drunk of Seslasmore and Thotium of Pilum. All of then stood in full armor and with their weapons in hand, looking as arrogant and righteous as the last time I had seem them. I managed to reign in my sigh of annoyance and resentment as I calmly walked before them.
"Hello, might I ask what you people are in my lands for?" I asked them, putting on the friendliest face I could muster.
"Hello, Dark Lord Jerimiah." Gaefus replied, "We have been looking for you."
"Then keep looking. I don't know anyone by the name of 'Jerimiha'. There might be one in the next town over but I'm not sure." I said helpfully as I turned around and began to walk home. I could tend the fields another day perhaps.
"No. I know that voice." Galadria said acusingly, "You are the Dark Lord!"
"No, I am not. Besides, I thought you people defeated him some ten odd years ago."
"You must be!" Fors said walked towards me, "I remember the scar in the back of your hand! You are Jerimiah!"
"No! I'm not! Because Jerimiah never existed!" I replied in annoyance, "Despite your insistance, there never was a 'Dark Lord Jerimiah' you daft idiots."
"But your name is-" Eladria started but I interrupted her, crying out in annoyance "My name is not Jerimiah! It's never been Jerimiah. It's Jole. My name has always been Jole!"
"But then how come you called yourself 'Dark Lord Jerimiah'?" Thotium asked perplexed.
"I never did. You people kept calling me that! You righteous blowhards never bothered to ask or learn my damn name! I bothered to learn your's for some reason but you bunch never extended that courtesy!" I complained, finally getting the bit if annoyance off my chest.
With almost blinding speed, a sword was thrust just before ny neck. With a meanacing glare, Drogen pushed the tip of the blade into my skin as he growled, "Enough! We came here in kindness when we could have taken you by force. So listen to what we have to say or else-"
"Before you bitch and moan about your lost love again? I had enough of that the first time, so please just get on with it." I interrupted with feigned sadness.
Drogen brought his blade up and brought it down. Thotium yelled out, "Drogen, stop!" but he didn't listen. From my understanding, Drgoen had always been the impulsive one of the group so this made sense. I stepped back a bit but didn't escape unscathed. A large gash one my chest began to bleed and I winced in slight pain.
Fors ran up behind Drogen and hugged him hard, restraining his movements. Thotium quickly walked up to me as he nodded approval at his friend's restraint before he said, "As my companion has said, we came here without the intent to harm you. We are here to ask for your aid."
"For what?" I asked, "You seemed to have everything under control when you defeated me and almost destroyed my country."
"Alentrastor has made moves against Zetremia and Dales and are preparing to make one against Great Flerance." Galadria said.
"I don't see this could involve me?"
"Alentrator has begun to move towards other nations. They are looking to conquer the continent!" Elara yelled at me, "How can this not involve you?"
"Are they at me door? No. Then this doesn't involve me."
"But it might." Fors managed to say as he continued to struggle with Drogen, "They might see you as their target."
"And until that happens, this doesn't concern me in the least. I don't see with this concerns you all as well." I continued as I touched my cut gingerly, "Elra, Galadria and Fors sure but the rest of you aren't involved at all."
"They are trying to take over the continent!" Elera cried out again, as if this could help her point.
"Yes. Countries and Nations grow and and fall every day. The world keeps going around. It's not as though I didnt do worse."
"You conquered three nations and burned another to the ground. You can say that what you did was an every day thing?" Galadria asked in anger.
"Yes. Then you people stopped me for really no reason." Then a question dawned on me, "Do you truly believe the world to be so simple that the thought of another nation rising up os cause for alarm?"
"It should be when the lives of innocnet people are at stake." Thotium said in righteous tone.
I burst out in a fit of laughter. I hadn't see anything this naive in a while. They all glared at me as I continued to laugh, which only helped to make me laugh more.
Eventually I subsided and once I regained my composure, I began to move towards my cart, calling back, "You dont need my help. You need a reality check. Thank you for your visit. Now please leave."
"What about Derastoma? Will you just abandon the nation you fought so hard for?" Elera called to me.
"No. Of course not. When a nation attacks my home, I will defend it with my dying breath. Until then I have don't need to fight." I began to push my cart back home. Until a wall of flames errupted infront of me and an arrow whizzed pass my shoulder.
"We tried to ask you nicely." Thotium said as he brought up his sword, magic teeming around it, "But now we are forced to take more drastic measures."
I turned to them, a look of confused incredulity, "I may have lost our last encounter but I'm the same as I was then."
"Its 5 against one. I believe we have the advantage." Drogen said as he was finally released. I was about to agree when a familiar around reached my ears. The heroes either didn't notice ore hadn't thought much of it which prompted me to be a little dramatic, one of my fatal flaws.
"You all seem to know me as 'Dark Lord Jerimah' but I had other titles." I said, getting out from infront of my cart and stretching a bit, "Many of them were lavish or aggrandizing. Many of them weren't true. Yet my wife had a favorite. Her favorite title that I had received was 'The Other Dragon of Deratoma' which I only like now because of what it says about me."
The air began to swirl around us and the noise got louder and louder. Eventually the heroes all looked up and fear gripped them.
"It says that I'm a dragon, but that I'm not Deratoma's only dragon." A heavy thud shook the grohnd beneath us as a great dragon landed behind me, bearing her fangs at the heroes in front of me.
"Say hello to my wife. Her name is Elemfortia. She is that other dragon." | The tranquillity of the cemetery was interrupted by the rhythmical hits of the shovel against dirt. Chop, shlick, plop. Chop, shlick, plop. A shirtless man was digging a fresh grave, his muscular skin glistening with sweat. His actions were well-rehearsed, indicating enormous amount of experience, but his mind was elsewhere, digging into the past as he dug into the Earth.
Patrick Thompson, formerly known as Mr. Greed, ran his shovel into the dirt and wiped the forehead, breathing heavily. It was time to take a little rest. Not that the future owner of this place would mind the delay.
He jumped out of the hole in the ground and went to a satchel to retrieve the water, but he wasn’t alone here.
Several metres above the ground, The Justice Man floated, clad in his usual white attire, red cape waving behind his back. His perfect, handsome face was stern, as if he did not want to be here. As always, he emanated a supernatural sense of righteousness that almost caused Patrick to puke.
And as always, he was not alone, dragging his team along. Iron Hope stood twenty metres away, wearing a new, three metres tall experimental suit of armour, painted like hotrod. This time, it were twin cannons on his back, powered by an alien device that kept him alive. Last time Mr. Greed saw him, it were shock spikes, that disabled the G-mech, allowing Justice Man to deliver the final blow. That confrontation felt so distant…
Next to him, a government jeep was parked, it’s windows tinted.
– Graves, huh? – Justice Man’s voice was what you would expect from a man that was blindly devoted to his rightful ideas, unable to see anything in grayscale.
– They don’t judge me, - Mr. Greed said, raising hands and locking them behind his head. – Took you long enough, now arrest me and be done with it.
– We’re not here for that, - Gridlock’s voice came from the armoured car. She was dressed the same way she always was: black skintight bodysuit with blue neon streaks along her limbs. Her mask was riddled with thin lines, showing her capabilities to interact with technology of any calibre.
– Oh? – Patrick lowered his hands, smile creeping across his bearded face. - What’s it going to be then? A friendly reunion? A poker night? I gotta warn you, I am one of the best in this village…
– We… we need your help, - for a man, literally wearing a tank, Iron Hope sounded surprisingly unsure.
Mr. Greed looked at the team of superheroes that defeated him and took his company away a very long time ago, and laughed. His laughter was that of pure, unfiltered joy, flowing in a hysterical, almost maniacal way. As Gridlock tried to interrupt him, he raised his finger, causing her to stop.
– This! This is just rich! They come crawling here, half of the country away, to ask an escaped criminal to help! Oh! Oh, this is my moment. This was all worth it! This is just… Too good, - Mr. Greed choked on his last words, coughing from tears of joy. He walked by the Justice Man to retrieve the water.
– Yeah, we get it, you are a complete ass… - a young voice, not known to Patrick, came from the car. He turned to it, seeing a teenage boy wearing something that resembled green pyjamas. – It’s clear he won’t help, can we go back and figure the plan on our own?
– Oh, you guys clearly did not have enough brains between the three of you to figure this out, so you’ve decided to abduct a kid? What do I call you? Justice Jr.?
– I am ZigZag, and I… - the boy disappeared and reappeared an arm’s length away from Patrick. – Am the fastest guy on the planet! You’d better not be mean to my friends here, or you’ll find yourself in Alaska in a second.
– Superspeed, huh? – Mr. Greed had to force his mind to stop calculating the possible weaknesses and ways to exploit his new adversary. Old habits died hard.
– That is new. In any case, what is this about? My client is waiting.
– Do you know Trevor Halsey? Also known as Greed Master? – Gridlock’s speech was dry and to the point.
– I taught him, along like… fifty other cadets in one of my secret hideouts. He was quite promising, but his evil ways were too unrefined. He preferred total annihilation to methodical moral destruction… Like the one I see here, - Patrick smiled, gesturing at the team of superheroes. - What about him?
– He is the head of the G-corp, and it has gone off the rails. It started blackmailing civilians, amassing weapons, gathering supplies for some massive operation. We’re afraid it’s going to topple our government, - Justice Man was uneasy, constantly looking over the horizon. Patrick had no doubts he could hear the distant cries for help, but as a leader of the superhero team, he had to be here.
– See? Ten years after my disappearance, and my corporation did not only survive, but prospered! I think, that is a true testament to my genius!
– Greed Master…
– Has some nerve stealing my title, I’ll give him that, - Patrick touched his chin, trying to remember details about Trevor. – But meh, It doesn’t sound as good as Mr. Greed anyway.
– That is beside the point! – Iron Hope stomped the ground, shaking the apples off a nearby tree. – We need your help to take him down, or this country will suffer!
Patrick looked at faces of all four heroes, savouring their despair.
– You should have seen this coming, you know… - he almost whispered, barely containing his laughter. – Okay, Iron Hope is dumb as a steel bar, Justice Man is just too blind to see, Justice Jr. was probably learning the potty at that point, but Gridlock? You disappointed me, seriously! At first, such talent goes full altruist, and then – completely misses the obvious thing! I was a tip of the iceberg, and a clearly visible tip at that! Cut me off… And you wake up very bad things, sleeping in the ice. So… My answer is no!
The smile he got from seeing their shock almost split his face in two.
– We took so much time to find him… - Zigzag clenched his tiny fists in anger.
– Why? – Iron Hope asked, taking a step towards Patrick.
– It’s simple, really. You did not suffer enough, - Mr. Greed raised his hands to the sky. – You see, ten years ago you won. But that is what you always do – you miss the big picture. You are a patch on the leaking pipe – run around frantically, trying to find the place to apply yourself as the whole building crumbles! And I win! Win in a long game!
Justice Man flew closer to Patrick, his features showing a mix of anger and weariness.
– Please, Patrick. We…
– How does it feel to be powerless, Justice Man? – Mr. Greed smiled again, his words seeping with contempt. – Invulnerable, super-fast, super-strong, able to fly… But when the world as a whole decays – you are nothing. Of course, you inspire people, you show them that they can be better. But “better” does not feed families…
– Listen, Patrick, - Gridlock came closer, her face frozen in a scowl. – You were better than Trevor. You had principles. You never attacked on holidays…
– Because I celebrated myself, duh.
– Never touched our headquarters…
– Yeah, you have a building in a shape of an X on a distant island. How dumb is that?
– Never blackmailed us…
– It’s about mind versus might, dear, not about cheap tricks.
– So please. I beg you. Please help us. We won’t be able to defeat him without your knowledge, and we have already lost enough. Our headquarters blown up, people’s support vanished, our families are kidnapped and held hostage.
Patrick looked at the Justice Man.
– One condition. This man. The best of you all. The noblest. The purest. Must say that I am better. That I…
– You are better, - Justice Man said without hesitation.
– I… You… No pride? You seriously have no pride?! There should have been fanfares and fireworks! – Mr. Greed practically shouted at a man floating in front of him. – Just like that? Too easy, no! Just not right! There was no soul in it!..
– You. Are. Better, - Justice Man repeated, his voice the most honest thing a man could hear.
– You defiled these words! You sucked out the whole fun, the whole triumph! – Patrick flailed his hands in anger. – This is why you lose! You are too good! Too righteous!!! Gah!
The graveyard fell silent as Patrick rubbed his temples in anger.
– I need my suit, - he said finally.
A black as coal tuxedo appeared in his hands along with a cane and shoes as Zigzag dashed to the car and back.
He savoured the smell and feel of satin against his skin after all these years.
Fresh shirt felt a little tight against muscles he developed while digging graves, but it still fit. He brushed his hair back, groomed his beard and raised the teleporting device disguised as cane to the sun, checking it for damage.
Everything was as he left it.
– I always wanted to have my own team of superheroes… - Mr. Greed smiled. – Let’s get to work! | |
[WP] You are a retired Dark Lord, living in the countryside. Ten years after your crushing defeat the heroes come for your help. | The group came riding down the road. The procession was so large it kicked up the dust and signalled their arrival long before the colorful banners were visible.
Such a different sight. I remembered when the King was just a prince--an exiled prince. He had barely a penny to his name and had a bounty on his head. Stealing into the castle at night by wading through human waste, all to open the gates so his allies could break through the castles defenses.
I watched their approach, strolling through the garden and checking on the growth of my pea plants. Small green strings, bright and new in the sun grew on vibrant vines. Rows upon rows of carefully tended to and cared for plants. My plants. My pride.
As the procession came winding through the town, I pulled out my long pipe from it's place in my robes and put it in my mouth. With the same hand, I began stuffing the bowl with pinches of dried sweet weed.
By the time the procession came to the bottom of the monastery's hill, I was puffing pleasantly on my pipe and sitting at the end of my little garden, calmly awaiting what was coming.
The Lady of the Sun taught me many things. None of what she taught could have prepared me for seeing him again.
He rode a bright white horse and was wreathed in white and gold. A symbolic gesture I am sure he growled at having to wear. He was never one for finery. He made a point to punish the nobles who had indulged im excess while the rest of the country starved under ruthless taxes and famine.
But now here he was-- the figure he had fought to be. Figures are symbols more then people. White was for rebirth and gold was for prosperity-- the two things the new King had come to represent.
He was surrounded by guards I was vaguely familiar with and a woman in black rode alongside him. She, I remembered, as it was her spell that broke the castle door and dropped the bridge. The castle was taken in that moment.
Seeing them was difficult. Old feelings grew and festered in the pit of my stomach. Anger and frustration. Regret at what I had lost and what had been taken.
I turned my face to the Sun and basked in her glory. I let the rays burn away my darker feelings as the memories came back to me. Of his eyes, wild with victory as he struck out at me. As his sword met my arm, slicing through the magic I was using to escape and down through the bone.
I meditated on my defeat and the New King's arrival. Since the omens, I knew it would come to this. The omens that spoke of the waking of an evil far greater than my arrogance and greed could ever match.
My thoughts of the Sun steeled me for the coming confrontation.
Their metal armor they wore announced their entrance long before Brother Alto spoke.
"Brother Yarris--the King has come to--"
He was cut off by shuffling and angry footsteps. The New King came around the rows of pea plants and faced me for the first time in a decade.
Age had been kind to him, but worry had not. Wrinkles now graced his brow and their was the weight of the world on his shoulders.
His expression was one of surprise and shock. Puffing on my pipe, I gave him a moment to collect himself. When it became clear he would find no words, I pulled the pipe from my mouth and spoke for him. "Quite the mighty swing," I said waving my stump of a left arm. "I hear songs about it from the tavern every night."
"What... What have you been doing?" He demanded almost accusingly but half out of shock.
"Breeding pea plants," I said.
"Brother Yarris made a frost resistant breed. Allowing for longer growing seasons for them," Brother Alto mentioned with pride. "Genius work-- brother Yarris really is a brilliant--"
Brother Alto was silenced by a sidelong glare from the woman in black. She was as stoic as always, barely showing her true feelings.
"Go attend to your squashes, Alto, I will be fine," I told him shooing him away with a wave of the pipe.
As the other Brother left, the New King grappled with what he was seeing. He shifted uncomfortably and rubbed his face with two hands before exclaiming in disbelief, "Pea plants? All your power, your knowledge and you breed pea plants?"
"That will feed families for centuries," I said contentedly. I looked at my rows of plants puffing on the pipe. "Probably the only good thing I have ever done."
The look on the New King's face made me knit my eyebrows together.
"Come now, boy. We both know I had next to nothing to do with how you turned out," I waved at the stoic woman. "She had more to do with it then I could have ever hoped to."
The New King narrowed his eyes at me as though seeing me for the first time. I took a moment to look at my pea plants and mourn the loss of my peaceful productive life.
"Well. The Winter Dragon isn't going to kill itself. And apparently you need this old cripple to do it," I slapped the New King on the shoulder. "Come now boy, help your old man die a hero." | You never forget the clank and moan of armor as muscled bodies drag them across the horizon. I thought I had. But there I was, swing the hoe into the soil one moment, and holding it up, primed to pierce flesh the next. I school myself, lowering the hoe before they get within view. No need to show hostility from the start. They could just be innocent young adventurers, looking for a kind hearted farmer to put them up for the night. They might not be a threat.
But then I saw the banner.
Our banner.
The bold familiar colors were a slap in the face. A wake up call that they were still alive. And they were here!
The hoe did not leave my hand as I approached them. I stayed on the high ground, in the solid dirt of our field above the mud they sloshed through, as I moved our meeting spot just a bit further from the house.
The banner had changed a bit from last I saw it. The valiant beast, poised to attack, was one leg short.
Always so melodramatic.
They trodded forward with heavy feet. The mud sloshed up their boots as they ripped them from the suction with each step. So utterly pitiful. I almost felt that pity, but it was still there. Under all that mud, blood, sweat and sorrow was still their same disgust. They were not as overt about it as before. They all made varying degrees of effort to reign it in.
Not an attack. No. They wanted something.
I planted my feet and end of the hoe in the dirt.
“Morrow.” I tried to keep my voice as flat as possible, but couldn’t keep myself entirely calm; not after all the pain they caused. “What’s got you so desperate that it’s got you dragging your bloody boots all the way out here?”
Morrow attempted to dignify himself in an equally solid stance, but the mud had his right foot sinking in the longer his stubbornness kept him planted there.
“The Feldenwar kingdom has attcked!” He proclaimed. “They're armies are made of beasts like nothing any soldier or warrior can face. The coastal cities are decimated and they've begun their march east. This land, and all others will soon be a ruin with no one left to remember who once called them home.”
This kind of threat... They didn’t want me to rejoin the squad.
“You want Arene to help you?” None of them balked at the absurd idea. “What? You want to put her in the middle of a battlefield and hope for the best? Hope she won’t gut every single one of you there? Every seasoned soldier. Every over-eager child trying to make a name for themselves. You want to unleash that power of hers, that still has you all quivering, back into the world?”
“Th-these are truly desperate times. If it wasn’t so, we'd never-“
“No.”
“Loclan, please. We-“
“That power is asleep! After all that senseless bloodshed it’s finally quiet and you will NOT wake it up again!”
They hesitated. They were remembering just what Arene’ s power was capable of. So, so much blood. So much senseless blood.
“Loclan, the situation is dire. If we just talked. If-if you’d just put a good word in for us.”
“HA! You want me to put a good word in for you? I have no good words for any of you anymore. Just as you had none for me nineteen years ago! When you had nothing for me but scorn and disgust. When you abandoned me, and my daughter when we needed you most! When you betrayed all those years of fellowship and trust!”
And there it was, back in full force. In each of their faces I saw the disgust at the thought of the child Arene and I had made. A taboo crossing of human and… Other.
“You were the one who betrayed us!” All signs of forced amiablility were gone as Morrow raged, “When you produced that… creature with the witch!”
Nevermind that I had been tricked just as them. That I had been just as blind to the deception as them when the Lady of Bones and Blood had disguised herself as a human and joined our squad on our quest to end her reign. But that was an old argument; one I’d long grown tired of.
“Leave. It sounds like you lot have a war to fight.”
“You can’t turn your back on this! The world is ending in fire and you have to-“
They all froze, blanching to bone. They looked even more terrified than when they'd faced the witch herself at the peak of her power. No, that was a known enemy. What chilled their blood now was the unknown threat of a hybrid child that no one thought could survive adolescence. And yet there she stood, an adult, looking completely human but for the gold and red eyes of her mother. The adult that still found it funny to sneak up on her father like a child.
“Father, it's time to prepare for supper.”
I could not stand that look in their eyes. I spun my daughter around and clasp my hand over her shoulder as I led her away from those hateful wretches.
“Leave!” I shouted back. “There's no help for you here!”
Eventually, the clank of armor began again and faded into the distance.
“They wanted Mother's help?”
I sighed. Damn them for coming here. Damn them for disturbing this little bit of peace. “Yes.”
“And you didn’t tell them that she's dead.” Not a question.
“Let them believe there’s still a power here dangerous enough to end them and all they love. Let that keep them away.”
She looked down at her uptilt palms. “A power they need.”
“No!” I spun her to me. Damn her eavesdropping. “You know NOTHING of what that power is capable of and NOTHING of how to control it!”
“They said the world’s coming to an end.”
“Then we'll go far away from that dying world.”
She turned her head to the house.
“People are dying.”
After years of fighting, all I could muster was, “They always are.”
I new that look in her eyes. I'd felt that emotion before. That drive to stop at nothing to fight for what you believed in. The only question now is which drive is stronger.
Her desire to go and fight for people she'd never known?
Or my desire to keep her safe from the world and herself? | |
[WP] You are a retired Dark Lord, living in the countryside. Ten years after your crushing defeat the heroes come for your help. | I could never understand why the name 'Dark Lord Jerimiah' had stuck. Compared to all the other names, this one struck me as the least accurate. My name wasn't even Jerimiah, it was Jole. 'Great Conqueror Joseph' was a bit more accurate even though the name was still incorrect. Another one I didn't understand was 'The Man of Iron Blood, Joshua'. It had an interesting ring to it but it still felt off. My wife's favorite was 'The Other Dragon of Derastoma' which at least avoided guessing my name. I admit that now, looking back on it, I have grown fonder if the name. Yet it was 'The Dark Lord Jerimiah' that had seem to stick and was repeated by many offenders of Derastoma.
I wasn't a Lord in the any sense of the word. I never owned any land nor had I received any sort of title from the king. Hell, before my intervention this kingdom wasn't much of a kingdom much less had a king.
I had once been called a hero by the people of this kingdom, and still am by some. Yet after the kingdom had been established and the people of the lands unified, enemies arose to conquer it. So I stepped up to defend it. And I continued to defend it until my thoughts when from just keeping me enemies back to deciding to niy have anymore enemies. It was around then that the name 'Dark Lord' and 'Great Conqueror' began to pop up and hang around like flies.
So when someone called out, "Dark Lord Jerimiah! Are you there?" I was a bit confused. My daughter looked over to me, confusion and worry etched in her face. I gave her a reassuring smile but whispered, "It's alright Durra. Go find your mother. Careful not to wake her though."
She nodded and went towards the house as I looked around for something to defend myself with. I didn't need it as I could break steal with only my hands but it might help to look intimidating. I settle in the hoe but felt slightly embarrassed carrying it about. A once great conqueror now using a hoe for a weapon? It would look humoerous to anyone.
It took them some time but eventually they broke over the hill and I identified them immediately. The Heroes of Nations; Drogen of the Blade from Estoria, Elara the Marksmen of Dales, The walking Mountain Fors of Great Flerance, The Master Magus Galadria of Zertemia, Gaefus the Drunk of Seslasmore and Thotium of Pilum. All of then stood in full armor and with their weapons in hand, looking as arrogant and righteous as the last time I had seem them. I managed to reign in my sigh of annoyance and resentment as I calmly walked before them.
"Hello, might I ask what you people are in my lands for?" I asked them, putting on the friendliest face I could muster.
"Hello, Dark Lord Jerimiah." Gaefus replied, "We have been looking for you."
"Then keep looking. I don't know anyone by the name of 'Jerimiha'. There might be one in the next town over but I'm not sure." I said helpfully as I turned around and began to walk home. I could tend the fields another day perhaps.
"No. I know that voice." Galadria said acusingly, "You are the Dark Lord!"
"No, I am not. Besides, I thought you people defeated him some ten odd years ago."
"You must be!" Fors said walked towards me, "I remember the scar in the back of your hand! You are Jerimiah!"
"No! I'm not! Because Jerimiah never existed!" I replied in annoyance, "Despite your insistance, there never was a 'Dark Lord Jerimiah' you daft idiots."
"But your name is-" Eladria started but I interrupted her, crying out in annoyance "My name is not Jerimiah! It's never been Jerimiah. It's Jole. My name has always been Jole!"
"But then how come you called yourself 'Dark Lord Jerimiah'?" Thotium asked perplexed.
"I never did. You people kept calling me that! You righteous blowhards never bothered to ask or learn my damn name! I bothered to learn your's for some reason but you bunch never extended that courtesy!" I complained, finally getting the bit if annoyance off my chest.
With almost blinding speed, a sword was thrust just before ny neck. With a meanacing glare, Drogen pushed the tip of the blade into my skin as he growled, "Enough! We came here in kindness when we could have taken you by force. So listen to what we have to say or else-"
"Before you bitch and moan about your lost love again? I had enough of that the first time, so please just get on with it." I interrupted with feigned sadness.
Drogen brought his blade up and brought it down. Thotium yelled out, "Drogen, stop!" but he didn't listen. From my understanding, Drgoen had always been the impulsive one of the group so this made sense. I stepped back a bit but didn't escape unscathed. A large gash one my chest began to bleed and I winced in slight pain.
Fors ran up behind Drogen and hugged him hard, restraining his movements. Thotium quickly walked up to me as he nodded approval at his friend's restraint before he said, "As my companion has said, we came here without the intent to harm you. We are here to ask for your aid."
"For what?" I asked, "You seemed to have everything under control when you defeated me and almost destroyed my country."
"Alentrastor has made moves against Zetremia and Dales and are preparing to make one against Great Flerance." Galadria said.
"I don't see this could involve me?"
"Alentrator has begun to move towards other nations. They are looking to conquer the continent!" Elara yelled at me, "How can this not involve you?"
"Are they at me door? No. Then this doesn't involve me."
"But it might." Fors managed to say as he continued to struggle with Drogen, "They might see you as their target."
"And until that happens, this doesn't concern me in the least. I don't see with this concerns you all as well." I continued as I touched my cut gingerly, "Elra, Galadria and Fors sure but the rest of you aren't involved at all."
"They are trying to take over the continent!" Elera cried out again, as if this could help her point.
"Yes. Countries and Nations grow and and fall every day. The world keeps going around. It's not as though I didnt do worse."
"You conquered three nations and burned another to the ground. You can say that what you did was an every day thing?" Galadria asked in anger.
"Yes. Then you people stopped me for really no reason." Then a question dawned on me, "Do you truly believe the world to be so simple that the thought of another nation rising up os cause for alarm?"
"It should be when the lives of innocnet people are at stake." Thotium said in righteous tone.
I burst out in a fit of laughter. I hadn't see anything this naive in a while. They all glared at me as I continued to laugh, which only helped to make me laugh more.
Eventually I subsided and once I regained my composure, I began to move towards my cart, calling back, "You dont need my help. You need a reality check. Thank you for your visit. Now please leave."
"What about Derastoma? Will you just abandon the nation you fought so hard for?" Elera called to me.
"No. Of course not. When a nation attacks my home, I will defend it with my dying breath. Until then I have don't need to fight." I began to push my cart back home. Until a wall of flames errupted infront of me and an arrow whizzed pass my shoulder.
"We tried to ask you nicely." Thotium said as he brought up his sword, magic teeming around it, "But now we are forced to take more drastic measures."
I turned to them, a look of confused incredulity, "I may have lost our last encounter but I'm the same as I was then."
"Its 5 against one. I believe we have the advantage." Drogen said as he was finally released. I was about to agree when a familiar around reached my ears. The heroes either didn't notice ore hadn't thought much of it which prompted me to be a little dramatic, one of my fatal flaws.
"You all seem to know me as 'Dark Lord Jerimah' but I had other titles." I said, getting out from infront of my cart and stretching a bit, "Many of them were lavish or aggrandizing. Many of them weren't true. Yet my wife had a favorite. Her favorite title that I had received was 'The Other Dragon of Deratoma' which I only like now because of what it says about me."
The air began to swirl around us and the noise got louder and louder. Eventually the heroes all looked up and fear gripped them.
"It says that I'm a dragon, but that I'm not Deratoma's only dragon." A heavy thud shook the grohnd beneath us as a great dragon landed behind me, bearing her fangs at the heroes in front of me.
"Say hello to my wife. Her name is Elemfortia. She is that other dragon." | You never forget the clank and moan of armor as muscled bodies drag them across the horizon. I thought I had. But there I was, swing the hoe into the soil one moment, and holding it up, primed to pierce flesh the next. I school myself, lowering the hoe before they get within view. No need to show hostility from the start. They could just be innocent young adventurers, looking for a kind hearted farmer to put them up for the night. They might not be a threat.
But then I saw the banner.
Our banner.
The bold familiar colors were a slap in the face. A wake up call that they were still alive. And they were here!
The hoe did not leave my hand as I approached them. I stayed on the high ground, in the solid dirt of our field above the mud they sloshed through, as I moved our meeting spot just a bit further from the house.
The banner had changed a bit from last I saw it. The valiant beast, poised to attack, was one leg short.
Always so melodramatic.
They trodded forward with heavy feet. The mud sloshed up their boots as they ripped them from the suction with each step. So utterly pitiful. I almost felt that pity, but it was still there. Under all that mud, blood, sweat and sorrow was still their same disgust. They were not as overt about it as before. They all made varying degrees of effort to reign it in.
Not an attack. No. They wanted something.
I planted my feet and end of the hoe in the dirt.
“Morrow.” I tried to keep my voice as flat as possible, but couldn’t keep myself entirely calm; not after all the pain they caused. “What’s got you so desperate that it’s got you dragging your bloody boots all the way out here?”
Morrow attempted to dignify himself in an equally solid stance, but the mud had his right foot sinking in the longer his stubbornness kept him planted there.
“The Feldenwar kingdom has attcked!” He proclaimed. “They're armies are made of beasts like nothing any soldier or warrior can face. The coastal cities are decimated and they've begun their march east. This land, and all others will soon be a ruin with no one left to remember who once called them home.”
This kind of threat... They didn’t want me to rejoin the squad.
“You want Arene to help you?” None of them balked at the absurd idea. “What? You want to put her in the middle of a battlefield and hope for the best? Hope she won’t gut every single one of you there? Every seasoned soldier. Every over-eager child trying to make a name for themselves. You want to unleash that power of hers, that still has you all quivering, back into the world?”
“Th-these are truly desperate times. If it wasn’t so, we'd never-“
“No.”
“Loclan, please. We-“
“That power is asleep! After all that senseless bloodshed it’s finally quiet and you will NOT wake it up again!”
They hesitated. They were remembering just what Arene’ s power was capable of. So, so much blood. So much senseless blood.
“Loclan, the situation is dire. If we just talked. If-if you’d just put a good word in for us.”
“HA! You want me to put a good word in for you? I have no good words for any of you anymore. Just as you had none for me nineteen years ago! When you had nothing for me but scorn and disgust. When you abandoned me, and my daughter when we needed you most! When you betrayed all those years of fellowship and trust!”
And there it was, back in full force. In each of their faces I saw the disgust at the thought of the child Arene and I had made. A taboo crossing of human and… Other.
“You were the one who betrayed us!” All signs of forced amiablility were gone as Morrow raged, “When you produced that… creature with the witch!”
Nevermind that I had been tricked just as them. That I had been just as blind to the deception as them when the Lady of Bones and Blood had disguised herself as a human and joined our squad on our quest to end her reign. But that was an old argument; one I’d long grown tired of.
“Leave. It sounds like you lot have a war to fight.”
“You can’t turn your back on this! The world is ending in fire and you have to-“
They all froze, blanching to bone. They looked even more terrified than when they'd faced the witch herself at the peak of her power. No, that was a known enemy. What chilled their blood now was the unknown threat of a hybrid child that no one thought could survive adolescence. And yet there she stood, an adult, looking completely human but for the gold and red eyes of her mother. The adult that still found it funny to sneak up on her father like a child.
“Father, it's time to prepare for supper.”
I could not stand that look in their eyes. I spun my daughter around and clasp my hand over her shoulder as I led her away from those hateful wretches.
“Leave!” I shouted back. “There's no help for you here!”
Eventually, the clank of armor began again and faded into the distance.
“They wanted Mother's help?”
I sighed. Damn them for coming here. Damn them for disturbing this little bit of peace. “Yes.”
“And you didn’t tell them that she's dead.” Not a question.
“Let them believe there’s still a power here dangerous enough to end them and all they love. Let that keep them away.”
She looked down at her uptilt palms. “A power they need.”
“No!” I spun her to me. Damn her eavesdropping. “You know NOTHING of what that power is capable of and NOTHING of how to control it!”
“They said the world’s coming to an end.”
“Then we'll go far away from that dying world.”
She turned her head to the house.
“People are dying.”
After years of fighting, all I could muster was, “They always are.”
I new that look in her eyes. I'd felt that emotion before. That drive to stop at nothing to fight for what you believed in. The only question now is which drive is stronger.
Her desire to go and fight for people she'd never known?
Or my desire to keep her safe from the world and herself? | |
[WP] You are a retired Dark Lord, living in the countryside. Ten years after your crushing defeat the heroes come for your help. | "General Praxin!" A called out, cutting the morning quiet.
An older man, down on his knees tending to a break in the snake-rail fence along an unassuming farm, looked up. His face was etched with deep lines was clearly visible as he rose from the shadow into the sunlight. Wiping his brow, he pushed some of his dark hair out of his face, noting the stray greying locks. Dusting his dirt-splattered work clothes, he stretched out his large frame.
Though aging, he was still a big man, heavily muscled. His hands eased toward his belt, to a carving knife, carefully slipping it from its place and tucking it along his sleeve as he leaned against a gnarled wood post. "Sorry, I think you're mistaken. Name's Pracesus." The older man said, turning toward the newcomers.
His eyes narrowed as he took them in. A blond elven man in intricately interlocking armor. A halfling with bright green eyes and tanned complexion located somewhere within voluminous blue robes. A dwarven woman in dark leathers with a darker expression. Oh yes, he knew them well.
"Cut it general. We know who you are." The dwarf, Pella, announced bluntly as she approached him. Praxin's eyes darted to her own weapons, her famous hatchets that carved her name into Aldessirian history. They stayed in the loops along her belt.
"That makes one of us." Praxin began moving further toward the gate, away from the "heroes" who were now closing in. "But I'm not who you think I am. General Praxin died up north 10 years ago. You can ask Hank down by the Briggs farm, he'll tell you, he saw it for himself. Old general up and died up there on the mountains when they surrounded him. Pounded'em real good I'm told."
"Funny that's not how I remember it." Lynwel said, moving ahead of him, his graceful stride catching the former general quickly. "You see, I was there too, and *I* never saw Praxin fall. Lots of witnesses after, but we never could find a body."
Ten, maybe fifteen feet to the shovel leaning against the fence around the corn patch. It was a feeble weapon, but he didn't see much alternative. Praxin's blue eyes flicked to his old enemies. They were closer. They were also younger by quite a bit, but he still had tricks they hadn't seen yet, even now. But their weapons still sat stubbornly by their sides.
"It was a big fight. Lots of things happening. Anything could have happened to him. Probably buried under a mountain of bodies and rubble."
"Or he could have escaped." Hane said, raising a small hand. A red glow collected, as a spark began to take form. Reacting mostly on instinct, Praxin summoned his own power, throwing out a counterward before diving low and springing toward the shovel. A moment later, he had reached it, turning the handle over in his hands as he came up into the familiar stance; head low, stance relaxed, arms up, spearhead forward, feet apart, braced for the next move.
Praxin's old enemies, however, made none. In the several heartbeats span, they hadn't moved an inch. The purple nimbus of power wrapped around the dim, sputtering spark Hane had conjured, now hanging limply in the air. Heart racing, the former general held his ground for a time as he considered the situation. A trick? A ploy? A chance that he would lower his guard, and then they'd have him? But as the long seconds ground on, the possibilities seemed less likely.
Finally, as his legs began to ache from the tension, Praxin set the head of the shovel down. "Well, you've found me. What do you want? Haven't you had enough hounding me for one lifetime?"
"General-"
"Don't call me that!" Praxin bellowed, breathing deeply, "I haven't been a general in over a decade. Not since Grimlen."
"Raithe then." Pella said, pulling herself up to the top of the fence, looking headlong at the former warlord. She gave one last look toward her companions who both gave silent nods. "We need your help." | I hear the trodding of horses and the echoing sound of horns from far away. Its been years since I have heard those horns, and even longer since I heard any activity from any other living creature. I look over to my window, peering out beyond the vast expanse of plain open country, with gargantuan blue mountains towering as high as the sky itself. Far in distance I hear the horns, even louder than they were before, streaming themselves loudly in my ears. The horn of the Kings Legion was unmistakable, roaring proudly echoing over hundreds of miles ever deeper in the countryside. I protrude my binoculars from within my tunic, and peer through them. I see a multitude of calvary men, riding proudly and respectably upon their steeds, their shining armor a blinding beacon of light by the sun. The Knights of Azaroth were upon him. Behind the knights rode their squires, holding the banners of their houses up high, gleaming with the vibrant colors of yellow, red, blue, and others. An entire legion of Azaroth's best soldiers rode towards him, at the speed of a cheetah. fear began, to slowly take hold of me. Never, even within my entire career, have I ever seen such a collection of the kings best men. Now me, as an old man causing no harm out here in the godforsaken lands of which I now call home, I see the triumph of kingdom barreling towards me. I attempt to regain my composure and put the binoculars back within the pockets of my tunic. I clench my hand into a fist, trying to regain control of my emotion. I take a deep breath, as I feel the chilling feeling of sweat running down my brow. I crack my fingers, and relaxingly crane my neck back and forth, hearing the aching pressure of bone beneath my skin. I look back towards the window again. Binoculars were longer needed. the banners of knights, and their gleaming armor were ever closer. I make my way over to the closet, in which hangs my many kinds of clothing. I push them all out of the way, revealing the large chasam of darkness of which I keep all things I had wished never to use again. A large ebony chest stood at the front, almost completely unnoticeable, blending in with the dark. I gingerly open it, somewhat expecting it to turn to dust in my arms. I open the chest slowly, and the thick palate of dust falls off the back. The particles of dust reach my nose, and voluntarily I attempt to hold back a sneeze. Within the chest holds many memories long forgotten, but many I still cannot seem to forget. On the very top, lay a sheathed sword encased in dark leather. I reach down and grab it with both hands. "was it ever this heavy?" I asked myself, and take the weapon and lay it on the floor behind me. I reach back in the chest and reveal a long black cloak, of which the sigil of my old house is stitched upon the sleeve. I shake the cloak for good measure, a thick cloud of dust emerging. I cough and close my eyes, veering my head away. I turn back and throw the cloak behind me. at the very bottom of the chest lay a bright red glow, lighting up the dark expanse of the closet. I reach into the chest, and within it I protrude my long forgotten weapon. My dark ebony staff, gleamed brighter than I remembered it, a red light shining all about the house. I focused as well as I could, grasping the old staff tighter and tighter, the ominous red glow, only growing brighter and brighter. The dust on the surrounding surfaces cleared away from all throughout he house, and began to orbit around me like a sun. a large thick cloud formed around me, and picked up any object found in its path. lamps, tables, and chair, surfaced themselves and flew about the air. spiraling faster and faster around me. Things began to become a blur, and the whole of the house began to shake, my concentration and focus only grew more concentrated and soon, before I knew it, a stood on the front porch of my cottage. Dressed in the armor of old. my sword hilted on my hip, and my staff, seemingly lighting the countryside in a tint of red, shining brighter than it had in decades. I saw the kings men, even closer than before, the lions, bears, and tigers, stood proudly on their banners, and their armor gleaming the reflection of red. I reached down and held a firm grasp on the hilt of my sword. I close my eyes in hopes to calm my nerves, and suddenly with all my courage and strength, I pulled out my sword from its sheath, the sound of metal echoed for miles. the silver blade caught the light of red like fire, and the sword seemed to be made of magma. I held it proudly above my head, pointing it towards my trespassers. The horses shriecked, and the knights quickly pulled back at the regins of their horses, their front hooves waving at the air. The knights stopped their advance and looked freighted for second. I smirked. Perhaps old magic still has some power over the world. But my smirked died almost instantly as the legion of knights began to slowly make their way towards me again. I suppose it would take more than a light show to freighten them away. I sighed in defeat, knowing that there was nothing to be done. I lowered my sword and threw it upon the ground. my staff, I rested upon the wall of the cottage, and I heavily sat down on my porch chair. The knights made their way to my cottage. and soon enough I counted 12 gleaming knights towering above me, upon their steeds. one knight, with a red velvet cape upon his back, took off his helmet, and threw it over to his squire. he then put his feet to the regins, and jumped from the back of his horse. The knight regained his composure from the fall, and straightened his back. The knight put one hand upon his hilt and the other he rested at his side, and briskly walked towards me. soon he shadowed over me and craned his neck. The knight cleared his throat and began to open his mouth to speak, but I cut him off knowing what he was going to say. "He's upstairs." I said in defeat as I pointed to the door. the knight paused and nodded, and then made his way inside the house. I closed my eyes tightly and shook my head. "The master's not going to be happy about this..." I whispered to myself, as the other 11 knights made their way single file inside to greet the man himself. | |
[WP] You are a retired Dark Lord, living in the countryside. Ten years after your crushing defeat the heroes come for your help. | I could never understand why the name 'Dark Lord Jerimiah' had stuck. Compared to all the other names, this one struck me as the least accurate. My name wasn't even Jerimiah, it was Jole. 'Great Conqueror Joseph' was a bit more accurate even though the name was still incorrect. Another one I didn't understand was 'The Man of Iron Blood, Joshua'. It had an interesting ring to it but it still felt off. My wife's favorite was 'The Other Dragon of Derastoma' which at least avoided guessing my name. I admit that now, looking back on it, I have grown fonder if the name. Yet it was 'The Dark Lord Jerimiah' that had seem to stick and was repeated by many offenders of Derastoma.
I wasn't a Lord in the any sense of the word. I never owned any land nor had I received any sort of title from the king. Hell, before my intervention this kingdom wasn't much of a kingdom much less had a king.
I had once been called a hero by the people of this kingdom, and still am by some. Yet after the kingdom had been established and the people of the lands unified, enemies arose to conquer it. So I stepped up to defend it. And I continued to defend it until my thoughts when from just keeping me enemies back to deciding to niy have anymore enemies. It was around then that the name 'Dark Lord' and 'Great Conqueror' began to pop up and hang around like flies.
So when someone called out, "Dark Lord Jerimiah! Are you there?" I was a bit confused. My daughter looked over to me, confusion and worry etched in her face. I gave her a reassuring smile but whispered, "It's alright Durra. Go find your mother. Careful not to wake her though."
She nodded and went towards the house as I looked around for something to defend myself with. I didn't need it as I could break steal with only my hands but it might help to look intimidating. I settle in the hoe but felt slightly embarrassed carrying it about. A once great conqueror now using a hoe for a weapon? It would look humoerous to anyone.
It took them some time but eventually they broke over the hill and I identified them immediately. The Heroes of Nations; Drogen of the Blade from Estoria, Elara the Marksmen of Dales, The walking Mountain Fors of Great Flerance, The Master Magus Galadria of Zertemia, Gaefus the Drunk of Seslasmore and Thotium of Pilum. All of then stood in full armor and with their weapons in hand, looking as arrogant and righteous as the last time I had seem them. I managed to reign in my sigh of annoyance and resentment as I calmly walked before them.
"Hello, might I ask what you people are in my lands for?" I asked them, putting on the friendliest face I could muster.
"Hello, Dark Lord Jerimiah." Gaefus replied, "We have been looking for you."
"Then keep looking. I don't know anyone by the name of 'Jerimiha'. There might be one in the next town over but I'm not sure." I said helpfully as I turned around and began to walk home. I could tend the fields another day perhaps.
"No. I know that voice." Galadria said acusingly, "You are the Dark Lord!"
"No, I am not. Besides, I thought you people defeated him some ten odd years ago."
"You must be!" Fors said walked towards me, "I remember the scar in the back of your hand! You are Jerimiah!"
"No! I'm not! Because Jerimiah never existed!" I replied in annoyance, "Despite your insistance, there never was a 'Dark Lord Jerimiah' you daft idiots."
"But your name is-" Eladria started but I interrupted her, crying out in annoyance "My name is not Jerimiah! It's never been Jerimiah. It's Jole. My name has always been Jole!"
"But then how come you called yourself 'Dark Lord Jerimiah'?" Thotium asked perplexed.
"I never did. You people kept calling me that! You righteous blowhards never bothered to ask or learn my damn name! I bothered to learn your's for some reason but you bunch never extended that courtesy!" I complained, finally getting the bit if annoyance off my chest.
With almost blinding speed, a sword was thrust just before ny neck. With a meanacing glare, Drogen pushed the tip of the blade into my skin as he growled, "Enough! We came here in kindness when we could have taken you by force. So listen to what we have to say or else-"
"Before you bitch and moan about your lost love again? I had enough of that the first time, so please just get on with it." I interrupted with feigned sadness.
Drogen brought his blade up and brought it down. Thotium yelled out, "Drogen, stop!" but he didn't listen. From my understanding, Drgoen had always been the impulsive one of the group so this made sense. I stepped back a bit but didn't escape unscathed. A large gash one my chest began to bleed and I winced in slight pain.
Fors ran up behind Drogen and hugged him hard, restraining his movements. Thotium quickly walked up to me as he nodded approval at his friend's restraint before he said, "As my companion has said, we came here without the intent to harm you. We are here to ask for your aid."
"For what?" I asked, "You seemed to have everything under control when you defeated me and almost destroyed my country."
"Alentrastor has made moves against Zetremia and Dales and are preparing to make one against Great Flerance." Galadria said.
"I don't see this could involve me?"
"Alentrator has begun to move towards other nations. They are looking to conquer the continent!" Elara yelled at me, "How can this not involve you?"
"Are they at me door? No. Then this doesn't involve me."
"But it might." Fors managed to say as he continued to struggle with Drogen, "They might see you as their target."
"And until that happens, this doesn't concern me in the least. I don't see with this concerns you all as well." I continued as I touched my cut gingerly, "Elra, Galadria and Fors sure but the rest of you aren't involved at all."
"They are trying to take over the continent!" Elera cried out again, as if this could help her point.
"Yes. Countries and Nations grow and and fall every day. The world keeps going around. It's not as though I didnt do worse."
"You conquered three nations and burned another to the ground. You can say that what you did was an every day thing?" Galadria asked in anger.
"Yes. Then you people stopped me for really no reason." Then a question dawned on me, "Do you truly believe the world to be so simple that the thought of another nation rising up os cause for alarm?"
"It should be when the lives of innocnet people are at stake." Thotium said in righteous tone.
I burst out in a fit of laughter. I hadn't see anything this naive in a while. They all glared at me as I continued to laugh, which only helped to make me laugh more.
Eventually I subsided and once I regained my composure, I began to move towards my cart, calling back, "You dont need my help. You need a reality check. Thank you for your visit. Now please leave."
"What about Derastoma? Will you just abandon the nation you fought so hard for?" Elera called to me.
"No. Of course not. When a nation attacks my home, I will defend it with my dying breath. Until then I have don't need to fight." I began to push my cart back home. Until a wall of flames errupted infront of me and an arrow whizzed pass my shoulder.
"We tried to ask you nicely." Thotium said as he brought up his sword, magic teeming around it, "But now we are forced to take more drastic measures."
I turned to them, a look of confused incredulity, "I may have lost our last encounter but I'm the same as I was then."
"Its 5 against one. I believe we have the advantage." Drogen said as he was finally released. I was about to agree when a familiar around reached my ears. The heroes either didn't notice ore hadn't thought much of it which prompted me to be a little dramatic, one of my fatal flaws.
"You all seem to know me as 'Dark Lord Jerimah' but I had other titles." I said, getting out from infront of my cart and stretching a bit, "Many of them were lavish or aggrandizing. Many of them weren't true. Yet my wife had a favorite. Her favorite title that I had received was 'The Other Dragon of Deratoma' which I only like now because of what it says about me."
The air began to swirl around us and the noise got louder and louder. Eventually the heroes all looked up and fear gripped them.
"It says that I'm a dragon, but that I'm not Deratoma's only dragon." A heavy thud shook the grohnd beneath us as a great dragon landed behind me, bearing her fangs at the heroes in front of me.
"Say hello to my wife. Her name is Elemfortia. She is that other dragon." | I hear the trodding of horses and the echoing sound of horns from far away. Its been years since I have heard those horns, and even longer since I heard any activity from any other living creature. I look over to my window, peering out beyond the vast expanse of plain open country, with gargantuan blue mountains towering as high as the sky itself. Far in distance I hear the horns, even louder than they were before, streaming themselves loudly in my ears. The horn of the Kings Legion was unmistakable, roaring proudly echoing over hundreds of miles ever deeper in the countryside. I protrude my binoculars from within my tunic, and peer through them. I see a multitude of calvary men, riding proudly and respectably upon their steeds, their shining armor a blinding beacon of light by the sun. The Knights of Azaroth were upon him. Behind the knights rode their squires, holding the banners of their houses up high, gleaming with the vibrant colors of yellow, red, blue, and others. An entire legion of Azaroth's best soldiers rode towards him, at the speed of a cheetah. fear began, to slowly take hold of me. Never, even within my entire career, have I ever seen such a collection of the kings best men. Now me, as an old man causing no harm out here in the godforsaken lands of which I now call home, I see the triumph of kingdom barreling towards me. I attempt to regain my composure and put the binoculars back within the pockets of my tunic. I clench my hand into a fist, trying to regain control of my emotion. I take a deep breath, as I feel the chilling feeling of sweat running down my brow. I crack my fingers, and relaxingly crane my neck back and forth, hearing the aching pressure of bone beneath my skin. I look back towards the window again. Binoculars were longer needed. the banners of knights, and their gleaming armor were ever closer. I make my way over to the closet, in which hangs my many kinds of clothing. I push them all out of the way, revealing the large chasam of darkness of which I keep all things I had wished never to use again. A large ebony chest stood at the front, almost completely unnoticeable, blending in with the dark. I gingerly open it, somewhat expecting it to turn to dust in my arms. I open the chest slowly, and the thick palate of dust falls off the back. The particles of dust reach my nose, and voluntarily I attempt to hold back a sneeze. Within the chest holds many memories long forgotten, but many I still cannot seem to forget. On the very top, lay a sheathed sword encased in dark leather. I reach down and grab it with both hands. "was it ever this heavy?" I asked myself, and take the weapon and lay it on the floor behind me. I reach back in the chest and reveal a long black cloak, of which the sigil of my old house is stitched upon the sleeve. I shake the cloak for good measure, a thick cloud of dust emerging. I cough and close my eyes, veering my head away. I turn back and throw the cloak behind me. at the very bottom of the chest lay a bright red glow, lighting up the dark expanse of the closet. I reach into the chest, and within it I protrude my long forgotten weapon. My dark ebony staff, gleamed brighter than I remembered it, a red light shining all about the house. I focused as well as I could, grasping the old staff tighter and tighter, the ominous red glow, only growing brighter and brighter. The dust on the surrounding surfaces cleared away from all throughout he house, and began to orbit around me like a sun. a large thick cloud formed around me, and picked up any object found in its path. lamps, tables, and chair, surfaced themselves and flew about the air. spiraling faster and faster around me. Things began to become a blur, and the whole of the house began to shake, my concentration and focus only grew more concentrated and soon, before I knew it, a stood on the front porch of my cottage. Dressed in the armor of old. my sword hilted on my hip, and my staff, seemingly lighting the countryside in a tint of red, shining brighter than it had in decades. I saw the kings men, even closer than before, the lions, bears, and tigers, stood proudly on their banners, and their armor gleaming the reflection of red. I reached down and held a firm grasp on the hilt of my sword. I close my eyes in hopes to calm my nerves, and suddenly with all my courage and strength, I pulled out my sword from its sheath, the sound of metal echoed for miles. the silver blade caught the light of red like fire, and the sword seemed to be made of magma. I held it proudly above my head, pointing it towards my trespassers. The horses shriecked, and the knights quickly pulled back at the regins of their horses, their front hooves waving at the air. The knights stopped their advance and looked freighted for second. I smirked. Perhaps old magic still has some power over the world. But my smirked died almost instantly as the legion of knights began to slowly make their way towards me again. I suppose it would take more than a light show to freighten them away. I sighed in defeat, knowing that there was nothing to be done. I lowered my sword and threw it upon the ground. my staff, I rested upon the wall of the cottage, and I heavily sat down on my porch chair. The knights made their way to my cottage. and soon enough I counted 12 gleaming knights towering above me, upon their steeds. one knight, with a red velvet cape upon his back, took off his helmet, and threw it over to his squire. he then put his feet to the regins, and jumped from the back of his horse. The knight regained his composure from the fall, and straightened his back. The knight put one hand upon his hilt and the other he rested at his side, and briskly walked towards me. soon he shadowed over me and craned his neck. The knight cleared his throat and began to open his mouth to speak, but I cut him off knowing what he was going to say. "He's upstairs." I said in defeat as I pointed to the door. the knight paused and nodded, and then made his way inside the house. I closed my eyes tightly and shook my head. "The master's not going to be happy about this..." I whispered to myself, as the other 11 knights made their way single file inside to greet the man himself. | |
[WP] You are a retired Dark Lord, living in the countryside. Ten years after your crushing defeat the heroes come for your help. | I sat on my marble throne and waited. The so-called “heroes” were coming to confront him and they were cutting through his golems and spectral suits of armor that guarded his palace. I closed my eyes and I could see the five of them fighting off 10 of my “soldiers”.
I examined the group, there was a metal clad figure in the front bearing the holy eagle of Luxior, god of light, upon his shield. Behind him, there was a woman in robes, holding a symbol of Luxior in her hand and chanting prayers to him. On another side of the room there were two more men guarding a robed woman. The woman was chanting a spell I recognized, it was a counterspell that was meant to unravel the enchantments on my golem. Her two guardians were fighting with the bow style and enchanted arrows that lead me to believe they were elves.
I watched the fight apathetically, every time one of the fighters took down one of my guardians, the magic would cause them to reconstruct themselves and fight once more. I was also unconcerned with the attempt at casting counter magic. I doubt this practitioner of magic knew that I was the one that created that spell many centuries ago. Back when I was in the academy. Back when Il too had a optimistic view of the world and wanted nothing more than to steal moments alone with my Katerina. Alas, life forced me to take a different path.
I rose from my throne and yelled, “Enough!” I mentally commanded all my guardians to stand down and I opened the doors to my throne room. The heroes looked bewildered for a moment but rushed in for their epic confrontation with the Dark Lord Phaeton. I looked at the youths in front of me and I felt tired. I had made many harsh decisions over the years, high tax rates to reinforce my palace, tributes in the forms of animals and precious metals. It was all for the people’s good, whether they realized it or not. I knew that I was preparing to lay a dark curse on those before me but this is what they wanted.
I removed the mantle of my office and set it on my throne and then set my crown on top of it as well. I then walked toward the group of adventurers. “I will not fight you, in fact I have grown tired of my rule. If you feel that you can do better, then you have my blessing to try.” They held their weapons at the ready, suspecting a trick. I then stopped by the door and turned back to them, “Just, know this, do not unseal the portal that is down in the basement. For that is the mandate of your rule. “
One of the elves yelled, “Why should we believe you? You should answer for your crimes!” He nocked an arrow and fired. I stretched a hand out and the arrow froze in midair and then fell on the ground.
Soon a dark portal formed behind me as I shook my head at them. “I am granting you your lives by not fighting you, if you believe this to be a blessing or a curse will be answered in time.” I stepped into the portal and disappeared.
***
I built a place in the forest, it was a small hut and a far cry from the luxury that I once possessed. However, I gained something more precious, I was free of my burden. You see, I didn’t tell them what my cost to rule was. The portal that I had mentioned was a gateway to the abyssal planes that I had found long ago with Katerina and other companions that we shared. It was supposed to have been the last journey we would undertake before we would settle down and anticipate the child that was growing within her.
The fight was chaotic demons had continued to pour through the gate and the spells that Katerina and I possessed would not close the gate. However, Katerina realized that we could save this world by different means but at a great cost. She reached within her and used her own soul and the soul of our child and formed a seal on the portal. The flow of demons stopped and the rest were killed, however the wounds on the remainder of our group were so great, they all fell. All but me. We were the only ones who knew of this portal and I was determined that the sacrifices made this day weren’t in vain. I tied my life force to the portal, as long as it existed, I would live. The crown and mantle I formed were then attuned to the seal, if my will were strong enough, the seal would stand. As I loved the two that made the seal, my will has lasted for nine centuries.
Was I evil? No. Was I draconian and perhaps an unjust ruler? Perhaps. However, the world still stood and the people lived in peace for as long as I lived.
It wasn’t long before I heard the hoofbeats of five horses and I knew that they were not capable of carrying the burden that I carried for so long. Perhaps I would try a different form of rule this time? Katerina would probably approve. I just wish that I could rest and see her once more.
***
Comments and feedback are welcome! More at /r/RaptorWrites | I hear the trodding of horses and the echoing sound of horns from far away. Its been years since I have heard those horns, and even longer since I heard any activity from any other living creature. I look over to my window, peering out beyond the vast expanse of plain open country, with gargantuan blue mountains towering as high as the sky itself. Far in distance I hear the horns, even louder than they were before, streaming themselves loudly in my ears. The horn of the Kings Legion was unmistakable, roaring proudly echoing over hundreds of miles ever deeper in the countryside. I protrude my binoculars from within my tunic, and peer through them. I see a multitude of calvary men, riding proudly and respectably upon their steeds, their shining armor a blinding beacon of light by the sun. The Knights of Azaroth were upon him. Behind the knights rode their squires, holding the banners of their houses up high, gleaming with the vibrant colors of yellow, red, blue, and others. An entire legion of Azaroth's best soldiers rode towards him, at the speed of a cheetah. fear began, to slowly take hold of me. Never, even within my entire career, have I ever seen such a collection of the kings best men. Now me, as an old man causing no harm out here in the godforsaken lands of which I now call home, I see the triumph of kingdom barreling towards me. I attempt to regain my composure and put the binoculars back within the pockets of my tunic. I clench my hand into a fist, trying to regain control of my emotion. I take a deep breath, as I feel the chilling feeling of sweat running down my brow. I crack my fingers, and relaxingly crane my neck back and forth, hearing the aching pressure of bone beneath my skin. I look back towards the window again. Binoculars were longer needed. the banners of knights, and their gleaming armor were ever closer. I make my way over to the closet, in which hangs my many kinds of clothing. I push them all out of the way, revealing the large chasam of darkness of which I keep all things I had wished never to use again. A large ebony chest stood at the front, almost completely unnoticeable, blending in with the dark. I gingerly open it, somewhat expecting it to turn to dust in my arms. I open the chest slowly, and the thick palate of dust falls off the back. The particles of dust reach my nose, and voluntarily I attempt to hold back a sneeze. Within the chest holds many memories long forgotten, but many I still cannot seem to forget. On the very top, lay a sheathed sword encased in dark leather. I reach down and grab it with both hands. "was it ever this heavy?" I asked myself, and take the weapon and lay it on the floor behind me. I reach back in the chest and reveal a long black cloak, of which the sigil of my old house is stitched upon the sleeve. I shake the cloak for good measure, a thick cloud of dust emerging. I cough and close my eyes, veering my head away. I turn back and throw the cloak behind me. at the very bottom of the chest lay a bright red glow, lighting up the dark expanse of the closet. I reach into the chest, and within it I protrude my long forgotten weapon. My dark ebony staff, gleamed brighter than I remembered it, a red light shining all about the house. I focused as well as I could, grasping the old staff tighter and tighter, the ominous red glow, only growing brighter and brighter. The dust on the surrounding surfaces cleared away from all throughout he house, and began to orbit around me like a sun. a large thick cloud formed around me, and picked up any object found in its path. lamps, tables, and chair, surfaced themselves and flew about the air. spiraling faster and faster around me. Things began to become a blur, and the whole of the house began to shake, my concentration and focus only grew more concentrated and soon, before I knew it, a stood on the front porch of my cottage. Dressed in the armor of old. my sword hilted on my hip, and my staff, seemingly lighting the countryside in a tint of red, shining brighter than it had in decades. I saw the kings men, even closer than before, the lions, bears, and tigers, stood proudly on their banners, and their armor gleaming the reflection of red. I reached down and held a firm grasp on the hilt of my sword. I close my eyes in hopes to calm my nerves, and suddenly with all my courage and strength, I pulled out my sword from its sheath, the sound of metal echoed for miles. the silver blade caught the light of red like fire, and the sword seemed to be made of magma. I held it proudly above my head, pointing it towards my trespassers. The horses shriecked, and the knights quickly pulled back at the regins of their horses, their front hooves waving at the air. The knights stopped their advance and looked freighted for second. I smirked. Perhaps old magic still has some power over the world. But my smirked died almost instantly as the legion of knights began to slowly make their way towards me again. I suppose it would take more than a light show to freighten them away. I sighed in defeat, knowing that there was nothing to be done. I lowered my sword and threw it upon the ground. my staff, I rested upon the wall of the cottage, and I heavily sat down on my porch chair. The knights made their way to my cottage. and soon enough I counted 12 gleaming knights towering above me, upon their steeds. one knight, with a red velvet cape upon his back, took off his helmet, and threw it over to his squire. he then put his feet to the regins, and jumped from the back of his horse. The knight regained his composure from the fall, and straightened his back. The knight put one hand upon his hilt and the other he rested at his side, and briskly walked towards me. soon he shadowed over me and craned his neck. The knight cleared his throat and began to open his mouth to speak, but I cut him off knowing what he was going to say. "He's upstairs." I said in defeat as I pointed to the door. the knight paused and nodded, and then made his way inside the house. I closed my eyes tightly and shook my head. "The master's not going to be happy about this..." I whispered to myself, as the other 11 knights made their way single file inside to greet the man himself. | |
[WP] You are a retired Dark Lord, living in the countryside. Ten years after your crushing defeat the heroes come for your help. | I could never understand why the name 'Dark Lord Jerimiah' had stuck. Compared to all the other names, this one struck me as the least accurate. My name wasn't even Jerimiah, it was Jole. 'Great Conqueror Joseph' was a bit more accurate even though the name was still incorrect. Another one I didn't understand was 'The Man of Iron Blood, Joshua'. It had an interesting ring to it but it still felt off. My wife's favorite was 'The Other Dragon of Derastoma' which at least avoided guessing my name. I admit that now, looking back on it, I have grown fonder if the name. Yet it was 'The Dark Lord Jerimiah' that had seem to stick and was repeated by many offenders of Derastoma.
I wasn't a Lord in the any sense of the word. I never owned any land nor had I received any sort of title from the king. Hell, before my intervention this kingdom wasn't much of a kingdom much less had a king.
I had once been called a hero by the people of this kingdom, and still am by some. Yet after the kingdom had been established and the people of the lands unified, enemies arose to conquer it. So I stepped up to defend it. And I continued to defend it until my thoughts when from just keeping me enemies back to deciding to niy have anymore enemies. It was around then that the name 'Dark Lord' and 'Great Conqueror' began to pop up and hang around like flies.
So when someone called out, "Dark Lord Jerimiah! Are you there?" I was a bit confused. My daughter looked over to me, confusion and worry etched in her face. I gave her a reassuring smile but whispered, "It's alright Durra. Go find your mother. Careful not to wake her though."
She nodded and went towards the house as I looked around for something to defend myself with. I didn't need it as I could break steal with only my hands but it might help to look intimidating. I settle in the hoe but felt slightly embarrassed carrying it about. A once great conqueror now using a hoe for a weapon? It would look humoerous to anyone.
It took them some time but eventually they broke over the hill and I identified them immediately. The Heroes of Nations; Drogen of the Blade from Estoria, Elara the Marksmen of Dales, The walking Mountain Fors of Great Flerance, The Master Magus Galadria of Zertemia, Gaefus the Drunk of Seslasmore and Thotium of Pilum. All of then stood in full armor and with their weapons in hand, looking as arrogant and righteous as the last time I had seem them. I managed to reign in my sigh of annoyance and resentment as I calmly walked before them.
"Hello, might I ask what you people are in my lands for?" I asked them, putting on the friendliest face I could muster.
"Hello, Dark Lord Jerimiah." Gaefus replied, "We have been looking for you."
"Then keep looking. I don't know anyone by the name of 'Jerimiha'. There might be one in the next town over but I'm not sure." I said helpfully as I turned around and began to walk home. I could tend the fields another day perhaps.
"No. I know that voice." Galadria said acusingly, "You are the Dark Lord!"
"No, I am not. Besides, I thought you people defeated him some ten odd years ago."
"You must be!" Fors said walked towards me, "I remember the scar in the back of your hand! You are Jerimiah!"
"No! I'm not! Because Jerimiah never existed!" I replied in annoyance, "Despite your insistance, there never was a 'Dark Lord Jerimiah' you daft idiots."
"But your name is-" Eladria started but I interrupted her, crying out in annoyance "My name is not Jerimiah! It's never been Jerimiah. It's Jole. My name has always been Jole!"
"But then how come you called yourself 'Dark Lord Jerimiah'?" Thotium asked perplexed.
"I never did. You people kept calling me that! You righteous blowhards never bothered to ask or learn my damn name! I bothered to learn your's for some reason but you bunch never extended that courtesy!" I complained, finally getting the bit if annoyance off my chest.
With almost blinding speed, a sword was thrust just before ny neck. With a meanacing glare, Drogen pushed the tip of the blade into my skin as he growled, "Enough! We came here in kindness when we could have taken you by force. So listen to what we have to say or else-"
"Before you bitch and moan about your lost love again? I had enough of that the first time, so please just get on with it." I interrupted with feigned sadness.
Drogen brought his blade up and brought it down. Thotium yelled out, "Drogen, stop!" but he didn't listen. From my understanding, Drgoen had always been the impulsive one of the group so this made sense. I stepped back a bit but didn't escape unscathed. A large gash one my chest began to bleed and I winced in slight pain.
Fors ran up behind Drogen and hugged him hard, restraining his movements. Thotium quickly walked up to me as he nodded approval at his friend's restraint before he said, "As my companion has said, we came here without the intent to harm you. We are here to ask for your aid."
"For what?" I asked, "You seemed to have everything under control when you defeated me and almost destroyed my country."
"Alentrastor has made moves against Zetremia and Dales and are preparing to make one against Great Flerance." Galadria said.
"I don't see this could involve me?"
"Alentrator has begun to move towards other nations. They are looking to conquer the continent!" Elara yelled at me, "How can this not involve you?"
"Are they at me door? No. Then this doesn't involve me."
"But it might." Fors managed to say as he continued to struggle with Drogen, "They might see you as their target."
"And until that happens, this doesn't concern me in the least. I don't see with this concerns you all as well." I continued as I touched my cut gingerly, "Elra, Galadria and Fors sure but the rest of you aren't involved at all."
"They are trying to take over the continent!" Elera cried out again, as if this could help her point.
"Yes. Countries and Nations grow and and fall every day. The world keeps going around. It's not as though I didnt do worse."
"You conquered three nations and burned another to the ground. You can say that what you did was an every day thing?" Galadria asked in anger.
"Yes. Then you people stopped me for really no reason." Then a question dawned on me, "Do you truly believe the world to be so simple that the thought of another nation rising up os cause for alarm?"
"It should be when the lives of innocnet people are at stake." Thotium said in righteous tone.
I burst out in a fit of laughter. I hadn't see anything this naive in a while. They all glared at me as I continued to laugh, which only helped to make me laugh more.
Eventually I subsided and once I regained my composure, I began to move towards my cart, calling back, "You dont need my help. You need a reality check. Thank you for your visit. Now please leave."
"What about Derastoma? Will you just abandon the nation you fought so hard for?" Elera called to me.
"No. Of course not. When a nation attacks my home, I will defend it with my dying breath. Until then I have don't need to fight." I began to push my cart back home. Until a wall of flames errupted infront of me and an arrow whizzed pass my shoulder.
"We tried to ask you nicely." Thotium said as he brought up his sword, magic teeming around it, "But now we are forced to take more drastic measures."
I turned to them, a look of confused incredulity, "I may have lost our last encounter but I'm the same as I was then."
"Its 5 against one. I believe we have the advantage." Drogen said as he was finally released. I was about to agree when a familiar around reached my ears. The heroes either didn't notice ore hadn't thought much of it which prompted me to be a little dramatic, one of my fatal flaws.
"You all seem to know me as 'Dark Lord Jerimah' but I had other titles." I said, getting out from infront of my cart and stretching a bit, "Many of them were lavish or aggrandizing. Many of them weren't true. Yet my wife had a favorite. Her favorite title that I had received was 'The Other Dragon of Deratoma' which I only like now because of what it says about me."
The air began to swirl around us and the noise got louder and louder. Eventually the heroes all looked up and fear gripped them.
"It says that I'm a dragon, but that I'm not Deratoma's only dragon." A heavy thud shook the grohnd beneath us as a great dragon landed behind me, bearing her fangs at the heroes in front of me.
"Say hello to my wife. Her name is Elemfortia. She is that other dragon." | The group came riding down the road. The procession was so large it kicked up the dust and signalled their arrival long before the colorful banners were visible.
Such a different sight. I remembered when the King was just a prince--an exiled prince. He had barely a penny to his name and had a bounty on his head. Stealing into the castle at night by wading through human waste, all to open the gates so his allies could break through the castles defenses.
I watched their approach, strolling through the garden and checking on the growth of my pea plants. Small green strings, bright and new in the sun grew on vibrant vines. Rows upon rows of carefully tended to and cared for plants. My plants. My pride.
As the procession came winding through the town, I pulled out my long pipe from it's place in my robes and put it in my mouth. With the same hand, I began stuffing the bowl with pinches of dried sweet weed.
By the time the procession came to the bottom of the monastery's hill, I was puffing pleasantly on my pipe and sitting at the end of my little garden, calmly awaiting what was coming.
The Lady of the Sun taught me many things. None of what she taught could have prepared me for seeing him again.
He rode a bright white horse and was wreathed in white and gold. A symbolic gesture I am sure he growled at having to wear. He was never one for finery. He made a point to punish the nobles who had indulged im excess while the rest of the country starved under ruthless taxes and famine.
But now here he was-- the figure he had fought to be. Figures are symbols more then people. White was for rebirth and gold was for prosperity-- the two things the new King had come to represent.
He was surrounded by guards I was vaguely familiar with and a woman in black rode alongside him. She, I remembered, as it was her spell that broke the castle door and dropped the bridge. The castle was taken in that moment.
Seeing them was difficult. Old feelings grew and festered in the pit of my stomach. Anger and frustration. Regret at what I had lost and what had been taken.
I turned my face to the Sun and basked in her glory. I let the rays burn away my darker feelings as the memories came back to me. Of his eyes, wild with victory as he struck out at me. As his sword met my arm, slicing through the magic I was using to escape and down through the bone.
I meditated on my defeat and the New King's arrival. Since the omens, I knew it would come to this. The omens that spoke of the waking of an evil far greater than my arrogance and greed could ever match.
My thoughts of the Sun steeled me for the coming confrontation.
Their metal armor they wore announced their entrance long before Brother Alto spoke.
"Brother Yarris--the King has come to--"
He was cut off by shuffling and angry footsteps. The New King came around the rows of pea plants and faced me for the first time in a decade.
Age had been kind to him, but worry had not. Wrinkles now graced his brow and their was the weight of the world on his shoulders.
His expression was one of surprise and shock. Puffing on my pipe, I gave him a moment to collect himself. When it became clear he would find no words, I pulled the pipe from my mouth and spoke for him. "Quite the mighty swing," I said waving my stump of a left arm. "I hear songs about it from the tavern every night."
"What... What have you been doing?" He demanded almost accusingly but half out of shock.
"Breeding pea plants," I said.
"Brother Yarris made a frost resistant breed. Allowing for longer growing seasons for them," Brother Alto mentioned with pride. "Genius work-- brother Yarris really is a brilliant--"
Brother Alto was silenced by a sidelong glare from the woman in black. She was as stoic as always, barely showing her true feelings.
"Go attend to your squashes, Alto, I will be fine," I told him shooing him away with a wave of the pipe.
As the other Brother left, the New King grappled with what he was seeing. He shifted uncomfortably and rubbed his face with two hands before exclaiming in disbelief, "Pea plants? All your power, your knowledge and you breed pea plants?"
"That will feed families for centuries," I said contentedly. I looked at my rows of plants puffing on the pipe. "Probably the only good thing I have ever done."
The look on the New King's face made me knit my eyebrows together.
"Come now, boy. We both know I had next to nothing to do with how you turned out," I waved at the stoic woman. "She had more to do with it then I could have ever hoped to."
The New King narrowed his eyes at me as though seeing me for the first time. I took a moment to look at my pea plants and mourn the loss of my peaceful productive life.
"Well. The Winter Dragon isn't going to kill itself. And apparently you need this old cripple to do it," I slapped the New King on the shoulder. "Come now boy, help your old man die a hero." | |
[WP] You are a retired Dark Lord, living in the countryside. Ten years after your crushing defeat the heroes come for your help. | I could never understand why the name 'Dark Lord Jerimiah' had stuck. Compared to all the other names, this one struck me as the least accurate. My name wasn't even Jerimiah, it was Jole. 'Great Conqueror Joseph' was a bit more accurate even though the name was still incorrect. Another one I didn't understand was 'The Man of Iron Blood, Joshua'. It had an interesting ring to it but it still felt off. My wife's favorite was 'The Other Dragon of Derastoma' which at least avoided guessing my name. I admit that now, looking back on it, I have grown fonder if the name. Yet it was 'The Dark Lord Jerimiah' that had seem to stick and was repeated by many offenders of Derastoma.
I wasn't a Lord in the any sense of the word. I never owned any land nor had I received any sort of title from the king. Hell, before my intervention this kingdom wasn't much of a kingdom much less had a king.
I had once been called a hero by the people of this kingdom, and still am by some. Yet after the kingdom had been established and the people of the lands unified, enemies arose to conquer it. So I stepped up to defend it. And I continued to defend it until my thoughts when from just keeping me enemies back to deciding to niy have anymore enemies. It was around then that the name 'Dark Lord' and 'Great Conqueror' began to pop up and hang around like flies.
So when someone called out, "Dark Lord Jerimiah! Are you there?" I was a bit confused. My daughter looked over to me, confusion and worry etched in her face. I gave her a reassuring smile but whispered, "It's alright Durra. Go find your mother. Careful not to wake her though."
She nodded and went towards the house as I looked around for something to defend myself with. I didn't need it as I could break steal with only my hands but it might help to look intimidating. I settle in the hoe but felt slightly embarrassed carrying it about. A once great conqueror now using a hoe for a weapon? It would look humoerous to anyone.
It took them some time but eventually they broke over the hill and I identified them immediately. The Heroes of Nations; Drogen of the Blade from Estoria, Elara the Marksmen of Dales, The walking Mountain Fors of Great Flerance, The Master Magus Galadria of Zertemia, Gaefus the Drunk of Seslasmore and Thotium of Pilum. All of then stood in full armor and with their weapons in hand, looking as arrogant and righteous as the last time I had seem them. I managed to reign in my sigh of annoyance and resentment as I calmly walked before them.
"Hello, might I ask what you people are in my lands for?" I asked them, putting on the friendliest face I could muster.
"Hello, Dark Lord Jerimiah." Gaefus replied, "We have been looking for you."
"Then keep looking. I don't know anyone by the name of 'Jerimiha'. There might be one in the next town over but I'm not sure." I said helpfully as I turned around and began to walk home. I could tend the fields another day perhaps.
"No. I know that voice." Galadria said acusingly, "You are the Dark Lord!"
"No, I am not. Besides, I thought you people defeated him some ten odd years ago."
"You must be!" Fors said walked towards me, "I remember the scar in the back of your hand! You are Jerimiah!"
"No! I'm not! Because Jerimiah never existed!" I replied in annoyance, "Despite your insistance, there never was a 'Dark Lord Jerimiah' you daft idiots."
"But your name is-" Eladria started but I interrupted her, crying out in annoyance "My name is not Jerimiah! It's never been Jerimiah. It's Jole. My name has always been Jole!"
"But then how come you called yourself 'Dark Lord Jerimiah'?" Thotium asked perplexed.
"I never did. You people kept calling me that! You righteous blowhards never bothered to ask or learn my damn name! I bothered to learn your's for some reason but you bunch never extended that courtesy!" I complained, finally getting the bit if annoyance off my chest.
With almost blinding speed, a sword was thrust just before ny neck. With a meanacing glare, Drogen pushed the tip of the blade into my skin as he growled, "Enough! We came here in kindness when we could have taken you by force. So listen to what we have to say or else-"
"Before you bitch and moan about your lost love again? I had enough of that the first time, so please just get on with it." I interrupted with feigned sadness.
Drogen brought his blade up and brought it down. Thotium yelled out, "Drogen, stop!" but he didn't listen. From my understanding, Drgoen had always been the impulsive one of the group so this made sense. I stepped back a bit but didn't escape unscathed. A large gash one my chest began to bleed and I winced in slight pain.
Fors ran up behind Drogen and hugged him hard, restraining his movements. Thotium quickly walked up to me as he nodded approval at his friend's restraint before he said, "As my companion has said, we came here without the intent to harm you. We are here to ask for your aid."
"For what?" I asked, "You seemed to have everything under control when you defeated me and almost destroyed my country."
"Alentrastor has made moves against Zetremia and Dales and are preparing to make one against Great Flerance." Galadria said.
"I don't see this could involve me?"
"Alentrator has begun to move towards other nations. They are looking to conquer the continent!" Elara yelled at me, "How can this not involve you?"
"Are they at me door? No. Then this doesn't involve me."
"But it might." Fors managed to say as he continued to struggle with Drogen, "They might see you as their target."
"And until that happens, this doesn't concern me in the least. I don't see with this concerns you all as well." I continued as I touched my cut gingerly, "Elra, Galadria and Fors sure but the rest of you aren't involved at all."
"They are trying to take over the continent!" Elera cried out again, as if this could help her point.
"Yes. Countries and Nations grow and and fall every day. The world keeps going around. It's not as though I didnt do worse."
"You conquered three nations and burned another to the ground. You can say that what you did was an every day thing?" Galadria asked in anger.
"Yes. Then you people stopped me for really no reason." Then a question dawned on me, "Do you truly believe the world to be so simple that the thought of another nation rising up os cause for alarm?"
"It should be when the lives of innocnet people are at stake." Thotium said in righteous tone.
I burst out in a fit of laughter. I hadn't see anything this naive in a while. They all glared at me as I continued to laugh, which only helped to make me laugh more.
Eventually I subsided and once I regained my composure, I began to move towards my cart, calling back, "You dont need my help. You need a reality check. Thank you for your visit. Now please leave."
"What about Derastoma? Will you just abandon the nation you fought so hard for?" Elera called to me.
"No. Of course not. When a nation attacks my home, I will defend it with my dying breath. Until then I have don't need to fight." I began to push my cart back home. Until a wall of flames errupted infront of me and an arrow whizzed pass my shoulder.
"We tried to ask you nicely." Thotium said as he brought up his sword, magic teeming around it, "But now we are forced to take more drastic measures."
I turned to them, a look of confused incredulity, "I may have lost our last encounter but I'm the same as I was then."
"Its 5 against one. I believe we have the advantage." Drogen said as he was finally released. I was about to agree when a familiar around reached my ears. The heroes either didn't notice ore hadn't thought much of it which prompted me to be a little dramatic, one of my fatal flaws.
"You all seem to know me as 'Dark Lord Jerimah' but I had other titles." I said, getting out from infront of my cart and stretching a bit, "Many of them were lavish or aggrandizing. Many of them weren't true. Yet my wife had a favorite. Her favorite title that I had received was 'The Other Dragon of Deratoma' which I only like now because of what it says about me."
The air began to swirl around us and the noise got louder and louder. Eventually the heroes all looked up and fear gripped them.
"It says that I'm a dragon, but that I'm not Deratoma's only dragon." A heavy thud shook the grohnd beneath us as a great dragon landed behind me, bearing her fangs at the heroes in front of me.
"Say hello to my wife. Her name is Elemfortia. She is that other dragon." | "General Praxin!" A called out, cutting the morning quiet.
An older man, down on his knees tending to a break in the snake-rail fence along an unassuming farm, looked up. His face was etched with deep lines was clearly visible as he rose from the shadow into the sunlight. Wiping his brow, he pushed some of his dark hair out of his face, noting the stray greying locks. Dusting his dirt-splattered work clothes, he stretched out his large frame.
Though aging, he was still a big man, heavily muscled. His hands eased toward his belt, to a carving knife, carefully slipping it from its place and tucking it along his sleeve as he leaned against a gnarled wood post. "Sorry, I think you're mistaken. Name's Pracesus." The older man said, turning toward the newcomers.
His eyes narrowed as he took them in. A blond elven man in intricately interlocking armor. A halfling with bright green eyes and tanned complexion located somewhere within voluminous blue robes. A dwarven woman in dark leathers with a darker expression. Oh yes, he knew them well.
"Cut it general. We know who you are." The dwarf, Pella, announced bluntly as she approached him. Praxin's eyes darted to her own weapons, her famous hatchets that carved her name into Aldessirian history. They stayed in the loops along her belt.
"That makes one of us." Praxin began moving further toward the gate, away from the "heroes" who were now closing in. "But I'm not who you think I am. General Praxin died up north 10 years ago. You can ask Hank down by the Briggs farm, he'll tell you, he saw it for himself. Old general up and died up there on the mountains when they surrounded him. Pounded'em real good I'm told."
"Funny that's not how I remember it." Lynwel said, moving ahead of him, his graceful stride catching the former general quickly. "You see, I was there too, and *I* never saw Praxin fall. Lots of witnesses after, but we never could find a body."
Ten, maybe fifteen feet to the shovel leaning against the fence around the corn patch. It was a feeble weapon, but he didn't see much alternative. Praxin's blue eyes flicked to his old enemies. They were closer. They were also younger by quite a bit, but he still had tricks they hadn't seen yet, even now. But their weapons still sat stubbornly by their sides.
"It was a big fight. Lots of things happening. Anything could have happened to him. Probably buried under a mountain of bodies and rubble."
"Or he could have escaped." Hane said, raising a small hand. A red glow collected, as a spark began to take form. Reacting mostly on instinct, Praxin summoned his own power, throwing out a counterward before diving low and springing toward the shovel. A moment later, he had reached it, turning the handle over in his hands as he came up into the familiar stance; head low, stance relaxed, arms up, spearhead forward, feet apart, braced for the next move.
Praxin's old enemies, however, made none. In the several heartbeats span, they hadn't moved an inch. The purple nimbus of power wrapped around the dim, sputtering spark Hane had conjured, now hanging limply in the air. Heart racing, the former general held his ground for a time as he considered the situation. A trick? A ploy? A chance that he would lower his guard, and then they'd have him? But as the long seconds ground on, the possibilities seemed less likely.
Finally, as his legs began to ache from the tension, Praxin set the head of the shovel down. "Well, you've found me. What do you want? Haven't you had enough hounding me for one lifetime?"
"General-"
"Don't call me that!" Praxin bellowed, breathing deeply, "I haven't been a general in over a decade. Not since Grimlen."
"Raithe then." Pella said, pulling herself up to the top of the fence, looking headlong at the former warlord. She gave one last look toward her companions who both gave silent nods. "We need your help." | |
[WP] You are a retired Dark Lord, living in the countryside. Ten years after your crushing defeat the heroes come for your help. | I sat on my marble throne and waited. The so-called “heroes” were coming to confront him and they were cutting through his golems and spectral suits of armor that guarded his palace. I closed my eyes and I could see the five of them fighting off 10 of my “soldiers”.
I examined the group, there was a metal clad figure in the front bearing the holy eagle of Luxior, god of light, upon his shield. Behind him, there was a woman in robes, holding a symbol of Luxior in her hand and chanting prayers to him. On another side of the room there were two more men guarding a robed woman. The woman was chanting a spell I recognized, it was a counterspell that was meant to unravel the enchantments on my golem. Her two guardians were fighting with the bow style and enchanted arrows that lead me to believe they were elves.
I watched the fight apathetically, every time one of the fighters took down one of my guardians, the magic would cause them to reconstruct themselves and fight once more. I was also unconcerned with the attempt at casting counter magic. I doubt this practitioner of magic knew that I was the one that created that spell many centuries ago. Back when I was in the academy. Back when Il too had a optimistic view of the world and wanted nothing more than to steal moments alone with my Katerina. Alas, life forced me to take a different path.
I rose from my throne and yelled, “Enough!” I mentally commanded all my guardians to stand down and I opened the doors to my throne room. The heroes looked bewildered for a moment but rushed in for their epic confrontation with the Dark Lord Phaeton. I looked at the youths in front of me and I felt tired. I had made many harsh decisions over the years, high tax rates to reinforce my palace, tributes in the forms of animals and precious metals. It was all for the people’s good, whether they realized it or not. I knew that I was preparing to lay a dark curse on those before me but this is what they wanted.
I removed the mantle of my office and set it on my throne and then set my crown on top of it as well. I then walked toward the group of adventurers. “I will not fight you, in fact I have grown tired of my rule. If you feel that you can do better, then you have my blessing to try.” They held their weapons at the ready, suspecting a trick. I then stopped by the door and turned back to them, “Just, know this, do not unseal the portal that is down in the basement. For that is the mandate of your rule. “
One of the elves yelled, “Why should we believe you? You should answer for your crimes!” He nocked an arrow and fired. I stretched a hand out and the arrow froze in midair and then fell on the ground.
Soon a dark portal formed behind me as I shook my head at them. “I am granting you your lives by not fighting you, if you believe this to be a blessing or a curse will be answered in time.” I stepped into the portal and disappeared.
***
I built a place in the forest, it was a small hut and a far cry from the luxury that I once possessed. However, I gained something more precious, I was free of my burden. You see, I didn’t tell them what my cost to rule was. The portal that I had mentioned was a gateway to the abyssal planes that I had found long ago with Katerina and other companions that we shared. It was supposed to have been the last journey we would undertake before we would settle down and anticipate the child that was growing within her.
The fight was chaotic demons had continued to pour through the gate and the spells that Katerina and I possessed would not close the gate. However, Katerina realized that we could save this world by different means but at a great cost. She reached within her and used her own soul and the soul of our child and formed a seal on the portal. The flow of demons stopped and the rest were killed, however the wounds on the remainder of our group were so great, they all fell. All but me. We were the only ones who knew of this portal and I was determined that the sacrifices made this day weren’t in vain. I tied my life force to the portal, as long as it existed, I would live. The crown and mantle I formed were then attuned to the seal, if my will were strong enough, the seal would stand. As I loved the two that made the seal, my will has lasted for nine centuries.
Was I evil? No. Was I draconian and perhaps an unjust ruler? Perhaps. However, the world still stood and the people lived in peace for as long as I lived.
It wasn’t long before I heard the hoofbeats of five horses and I knew that they were not capable of carrying the burden that I carried for so long. Perhaps I would try a different form of rule this time? Katerina would probably approve. I just wish that I could rest and see her once more.
***
Comments and feedback are welcome! More at /r/RaptorWrites | "General Praxin!" A called out, cutting the morning quiet.
An older man, down on his knees tending to a break in the snake-rail fence along an unassuming farm, looked up. His face was etched with deep lines was clearly visible as he rose from the shadow into the sunlight. Wiping his brow, he pushed some of his dark hair out of his face, noting the stray greying locks. Dusting his dirt-splattered work clothes, he stretched out his large frame.
Though aging, he was still a big man, heavily muscled. His hands eased toward his belt, to a carving knife, carefully slipping it from its place and tucking it along his sleeve as he leaned against a gnarled wood post. "Sorry, I think you're mistaken. Name's Pracesus." The older man said, turning toward the newcomers.
His eyes narrowed as he took them in. A blond elven man in intricately interlocking armor. A halfling with bright green eyes and tanned complexion located somewhere within voluminous blue robes. A dwarven woman in dark leathers with a darker expression. Oh yes, he knew them well.
"Cut it general. We know who you are." The dwarf, Pella, announced bluntly as she approached him. Praxin's eyes darted to her own weapons, her famous hatchets that carved her name into Aldessirian history. They stayed in the loops along her belt.
"That makes one of us." Praxin began moving further toward the gate, away from the "heroes" who were now closing in. "But I'm not who you think I am. General Praxin died up north 10 years ago. You can ask Hank down by the Briggs farm, he'll tell you, he saw it for himself. Old general up and died up there on the mountains when they surrounded him. Pounded'em real good I'm told."
"Funny that's not how I remember it." Lynwel said, moving ahead of him, his graceful stride catching the former general quickly. "You see, I was there too, and *I* never saw Praxin fall. Lots of witnesses after, but we never could find a body."
Ten, maybe fifteen feet to the shovel leaning against the fence around the corn patch. It was a feeble weapon, but he didn't see much alternative. Praxin's blue eyes flicked to his old enemies. They were closer. They were also younger by quite a bit, but he still had tricks they hadn't seen yet, even now. But their weapons still sat stubbornly by their sides.
"It was a big fight. Lots of things happening. Anything could have happened to him. Probably buried under a mountain of bodies and rubble."
"Or he could have escaped." Hane said, raising a small hand. A red glow collected, as a spark began to take form. Reacting mostly on instinct, Praxin summoned his own power, throwing out a counterward before diving low and springing toward the shovel. A moment later, he had reached it, turning the handle over in his hands as he came up into the familiar stance; head low, stance relaxed, arms up, spearhead forward, feet apart, braced for the next move.
Praxin's old enemies, however, made none. In the several heartbeats span, they hadn't moved an inch. The purple nimbus of power wrapped around the dim, sputtering spark Hane had conjured, now hanging limply in the air. Heart racing, the former general held his ground for a time as he considered the situation. A trick? A ploy? A chance that he would lower his guard, and then they'd have him? But as the long seconds ground on, the possibilities seemed less likely.
Finally, as his legs began to ache from the tension, Praxin set the head of the shovel down. "Well, you've found me. What do you want? Haven't you had enough hounding me for one lifetime?"
"General-"
"Don't call me that!" Praxin bellowed, breathing deeply, "I haven't been a general in over a decade. Not since Grimlen."
"Raithe then." Pella said, pulling herself up to the top of the fence, looking headlong at the former warlord. She gave one last look toward her companions who both gave silent nods. "We need your help." | |
[WP] You are a retired Dark Lord, living in the countryside. Ten years after your crushing defeat the heroes come for your help. | I sat on my marble throne and waited. The so-called “heroes” were coming to confront him and they were cutting through his golems and spectral suits of armor that guarded his palace. I closed my eyes and I could see the five of them fighting off 10 of my “soldiers”.
I examined the group, there was a metal clad figure in the front bearing the holy eagle of Luxior, god of light, upon his shield. Behind him, there was a woman in robes, holding a symbol of Luxior in her hand and chanting prayers to him. On another side of the room there were two more men guarding a robed woman. The woman was chanting a spell I recognized, it was a counterspell that was meant to unravel the enchantments on my golem. Her two guardians were fighting with the bow style and enchanted arrows that lead me to believe they were elves.
I watched the fight apathetically, every time one of the fighters took down one of my guardians, the magic would cause them to reconstruct themselves and fight once more. I was also unconcerned with the attempt at casting counter magic. I doubt this practitioner of magic knew that I was the one that created that spell many centuries ago. Back when I was in the academy. Back when Il too had a optimistic view of the world and wanted nothing more than to steal moments alone with my Katerina. Alas, life forced me to take a different path.
I rose from my throne and yelled, “Enough!” I mentally commanded all my guardians to stand down and I opened the doors to my throne room. The heroes looked bewildered for a moment but rushed in for their epic confrontation with the Dark Lord Phaeton. I looked at the youths in front of me and I felt tired. I had made many harsh decisions over the years, high tax rates to reinforce my palace, tributes in the forms of animals and precious metals. It was all for the people’s good, whether they realized it or not. I knew that I was preparing to lay a dark curse on those before me but this is what they wanted.
I removed the mantle of my office and set it on my throne and then set my crown on top of it as well. I then walked toward the group of adventurers. “I will not fight you, in fact I have grown tired of my rule. If you feel that you can do better, then you have my blessing to try.” They held their weapons at the ready, suspecting a trick. I then stopped by the door and turned back to them, “Just, know this, do not unseal the portal that is down in the basement. For that is the mandate of your rule. “
One of the elves yelled, “Why should we believe you? You should answer for your crimes!” He nocked an arrow and fired. I stretched a hand out and the arrow froze in midair and then fell on the ground.
Soon a dark portal formed behind me as I shook my head at them. “I am granting you your lives by not fighting you, if you believe this to be a blessing or a curse will be answered in time.” I stepped into the portal and disappeared.
***
I built a place in the forest, it was a small hut and a far cry from the luxury that I once possessed. However, I gained something more precious, I was free of my burden. You see, I didn’t tell them what my cost to rule was. The portal that I had mentioned was a gateway to the abyssal planes that I had found long ago with Katerina and other companions that we shared. It was supposed to have been the last journey we would undertake before we would settle down and anticipate the child that was growing within her.
The fight was chaotic demons had continued to pour through the gate and the spells that Katerina and I possessed would not close the gate. However, Katerina realized that we could save this world by different means but at a great cost. She reached within her and used her own soul and the soul of our child and formed a seal on the portal. The flow of demons stopped and the rest were killed, however the wounds on the remainder of our group were so great, they all fell. All but me. We were the only ones who knew of this portal and I was determined that the sacrifices made this day weren’t in vain. I tied my life force to the portal, as long as it existed, I would live. The crown and mantle I formed were then attuned to the seal, if my will were strong enough, the seal would stand. As I loved the two that made the seal, my will has lasted for nine centuries.
Was I evil? No. Was I draconian and perhaps an unjust ruler? Perhaps. However, the world still stood and the people lived in peace for as long as I lived.
It wasn’t long before I heard the hoofbeats of five horses and I knew that they were not capable of carrying the burden that I carried for so long. Perhaps I would try a different form of rule this time? Katerina would probably approve. I just wish that I could rest and see her once more.
***
Comments and feedback are welcome! More at /r/RaptorWrites | 10 years. It has been 10 years since my downfall. I've slowly gotten less and less irritated at myself since then but the failure still lingers. It has been peaceful, none the less. No one disturbs me besides the occasional solicitor that takes the time to come bug me.
This set of visitors seemed different though. There was an air of hopelessness around them that I knew all too well. The armor they wore was similar to sets of armor I fought against 10 years ago.
"Well, well, well, Cyrus, my old friend. What brings you to my dark abode?" He looked at me with eyes that saw his men perish.
"Al'Akir, it's good to see you still kicking after all these years." He replied, "Still twisting the minds of the living to work for you?"
I chuckled. "Not anymore. I've put that mostly behind me." I looked at him more intently now. "What truly brings you here, Cyrus?"
His smirk fell and his eyes lowered. The air seemed to get thicker while he silently scrambled for words.
"The, uh, the Maboons, they've decided to rebel against us. Nothing we couldn't handle in the past. Though now, I'm afraid their numbers have grown to surpass us, four to one. We aren't able to hold them back anymore. They broken our defenses," he paused, taking a breath and holding back that single tear, "and killed Yuri, my brother."
I rested my fist under my chin, knowing full well what he was asking. I didn't know if I could do that anymore. I've only taken over the brain of my housemaid and that's only because she kept missing the dust on the ceiling fans.
"I'm quite rusty. You realize this, correct? I would need at least 10 captives to regain complete control of my abilities."
His face now showed signs of hope with a gleam in his eyes.
"I would be forever in your debt and would grant you whatever favor you wish for within my grasp." His stance straightened back up along with the five others that have remained silent, waiting.
I turned back towards my door and took a step in, then stopped.
"I shall see you there. If I am being deceived, I will not hold back all that I have." With that I vanished, traveling instantly to the castle that had once gleamed from the sunlight with perfect stone, now broken and dull. The men there covered in rags with swords to match the walls. Their faces sunken from hunger and lack of will.
"Do not fear," I growled out, gaining their attention and fear, "for I am here." I finished, smirking. | |
[WP] You are a retired Dark Lord, living in the countryside. Ten years after your crushing defeat the heroes come for your help. | It was a crushing defeat, a well deserved one at that. I caused so much misery to whole continents in such a small time frame I felt nothing but relief when the heroes struck me with the finishing blow. They let me live, however and to this day, I have yet to know why.
10 years has passed since my retirement, or more accurately: my fall. My empire has been reduced to ash and while I might have abandoned my duties as a harbinger of evil, my powers are still as strong as ever. I now spend the rest of my days working part-time in a field to chase off any animals that might come and steal the fruit of my employer.
It was a peaceful time, and I was completely content with it.
While I watched over the field, my mind began to wander and suddenly I am reminded of my days as a dark lord. Fueled with greed, I commanded an army of millions and razed the kingdom with blood, ash and fire. While I cannot deny that I felt nothing but ecstasy as I watched my possessions increase, my consciousness cannot help but feel like I'm doing something wrong.
I couldn't stop however. I cannot. This feeling of dominance was too great for me to control on my own. That was when I gazed upon the faces of the heroes that struck me down, each of their faces fueled with but one message: Desperation. Desperate to save their dying kingdom from my greedy hands. I was taken aback, never have I ever thought about the people I was causing pain. Maybe this doubt was the cause of my fall.
As I continued to space out, I was brought back into the real world as my employer reached out to call me. Apparently, I have some people that wish to see me. Rising from the dusty stool I sat on, I made my way into the home of my employer, specifically the dining room. There, I was met with a gaze I was all to familiar with: Desperation.
"Alright, heroic brave. What's wrong? If you are to ask me about my movements, I have done nothing of the sort these past 10 years.", I quickly declared as I sat. When you're a former dark lord, you really get used to these sort of gazes from different people. They usually ask for the same thing every time something goes wrong. It has always been this way.
"Ah, greetings... Former-dark lord." The man who greeted me was a relatively young fellow, around 30 years of age. His red eyes were shining like a pair of rubies, and his pure face was a sight I was hoping I would never have to look at ever again. "I see time has treated you well, thus I assume that you have not grown weaker? I was worried that in your lonesome self, you would've gone on a drunken rage and started some trouble. Seems like I didn't have to worry about that."
This man... I still can't get used to his crude humor. "Cut the chatter, heroic brave. Why have you come here? The world should be at peace, as there has been no one as cruel as I have been during my time of rule.", I muttered.
The heroic brave nodded. "Ah, yeah. About that, I was tasked on taking down the remains of your empire. You had quite a huge following you know. Surely there must be some of your followers that wish to revive your beloved empire?"
Now to be clear, I did not like this man very much. His improper attitude never sat right with me, and this was the man who cut me down. No matter how you look at it, I just couldn't get used to this level of familiarity towards a man who was very recently my mortal enemy and a huge itch on my back. "And..? Did you come here expecting me to obediently assist you? Sorry. Despite my reformation, I still lack the will to help you, heroic brave. Besides...", as my sentence slowly halted, I began to look at the field I was tending to just a moment ago, "I rather fancy the peaceful life that you worked so hard to preserve. I'd rather do anything but return to the battlefield."
After listening to my response to his possible recruitment attempt, the heroic brave sighed. "Alright, ex-dark lord, I understand. But if you refuse to assist me on my hunt to strike down the remainder of your followers, we might run the risk of the new empire rising and disturbing the peace so enjoy so much."
I am growing tired of this useless conversation. I spoke in a more aggressive tone, "That won't be enough to change my mind, heroic brave. Although, having this peace disturbed would prove to be very troublesome in the future.
...besides, I wont be able to get along with your companions. So far, you have been the only one who has been able to tolerate me. I don't have anything I wish to protect other than myself, and the one person I wish to protect has died by your hand."
The heroic brave exhaled nervously. "Is there really nothing I can do to persuade you to join my mission?"
"Absolutely not."
"Even if I said I could bring back the individual you wished to protect?"
Following his remark followed a ghastly chill down the room. It was my power. Quicker than lightning, I had the heroic brave pinned down on the floor with a series of chains from weapons of the ancients.
"...Don't screw with me, heroic brave. You really think I haven't tried to bring her back? Is **Eia** your bargaining chip?!", I growled.
Despite his groaning, the heroic brave still managed to squeeze out an aura of confidence and a smirk. "Why of course, dark lord. My faction has spent a good 7 years looking for a way to revive the dead. The reason why reviving the dead has always been impossible is because the energy needed to bring back a single soul is simply far too great, and soul energy disappears far too quickly, thus it cannot be contained."
This explanation has piqued my interest, but I'm still not buying any of it. Maintaining my grip on the heroic brave, I grumbled, "...Keep going."
"But with your restraining magic, or as we like to call it: Potent Petrification, we can put your multitudes of followers on a secure place and slay the all at once and revive your beloved with the soul energy."
His idea makes sense. I don't like the idea of working with the heroic brave, but if it meant bringing back Eia back, it's not like I have much of a choice on the matter.
I reluctantly sighed and let go of the man. "...very well, heroic brave. But once this is all said and done, if the revival process turns out to be a hoax, you will be the first to die." I am still unconvinced, but at this point, I finally have something to think about.
Getting up, the heroic brave clapped his hands together and exclaimed, "Great! I'll inform your employer that you would be retiring from your job."
"I'll go get changed then."
"Oh, don't use your previous armor. People would recognize you."
"...right. Anyway, as much as I hate to say it, I **really** hope we get along, heroic brave.", I heavily sighed.
"Haha! Likewise, former dark lord!"
==
tfw first story and is currently losing my shit | 10 years. It has been 10 years since my downfall. I've slowly gotten less and less irritated at myself since then but the failure still lingers. It has been peaceful, none the less. No one disturbs me besides the occasional solicitor that takes the time to come bug me.
This set of visitors seemed different though. There was an air of hopelessness around them that I knew all too well. The armor they wore was similar to sets of armor I fought against 10 years ago.
"Well, well, well, Cyrus, my old friend. What brings you to my dark abode?" He looked at me with eyes that saw his men perish.
"Al'Akir, it's good to see you still kicking after all these years." He replied, "Still twisting the minds of the living to work for you?"
I chuckled. "Not anymore. I've put that mostly behind me." I looked at him more intently now. "What truly brings you here, Cyrus?"
His smirk fell and his eyes lowered. The air seemed to get thicker while he silently scrambled for words.
"The, uh, the Maboons, they've decided to rebel against us. Nothing we couldn't handle in the past. Though now, I'm afraid their numbers have grown to surpass us, four to one. We aren't able to hold them back anymore. They broken our defenses," he paused, taking a breath and holding back that single tear, "and killed Yuri, my brother."
I rested my fist under my chin, knowing full well what he was asking. I didn't know if I could do that anymore. I've only taken over the brain of my housemaid and that's only because she kept missing the dust on the ceiling fans.
"I'm quite rusty. You realize this, correct? I would need at least 10 captives to regain complete control of my abilities."
His face now showed signs of hope with a gleam in his eyes.
"I would be forever in your debt and would grant you whatever favor you wish for within my grasp." His stance straightened back up along with the five others that have remained silent, waiting.
I turned back towards my door and took a step in, then stopped.
"I shall see you there. If I am being deceived, I will not hold back all that I have." With that I vanished, traveling instantly to the castle that had once gleamed from the sunlight with perfect stone, now broken and dull. The men there covered in rags with swords to match the walls. Their faces sunken from hunger and lack of will.
"Do not fear," I growled out, gaining their attention and fear, "for I am here." I finished, smirking. | |
[WP] You are a retired Dark Lord, living in the countryside. Ten years after your crushing defeat the heroes come for your help. | Warm water filled the filthy bathtub to the brim. I dropped myself, splashing some onto the rotted tile nearby. I tried to relax my heartbeat as I sunk deeper. I put my head underwater for a few seconds, just enough to trigger my body's panic response.
It was nice to feel something, at last. I repeated the cycle a few times, until my chest was heaving and I was sputtering. I glanced out the window and saw a vehicle racing up my dusty driveway. How odd, I hadn't had visitors since...since I was destroyed and exiled from my land. I crawled out of the tub and searched for clean clothes. I settled for a wrinkled polo and khakis. They hung loosely on my skeletal frame. It would have to do.
Men in bandanas and dark clothes jumped out of the vehicle. My breath caught as I saw the pistols on their hips. So little had changed. They banged on the door – it was deja vu to their last visit, a decade ago. Different circumstances to be sure, but I smiled at the irony.
I opened the door and let them in. “Please sit down,” my voice croaked. It had been so long, too long, since I had spoken to another.
Three of the men grimaced, refusing to make eye contact. Chase was the only one who acknowledged my presence. He sat at the head of the table, staring hard at me. He had aged greatly; dark bags spread beneath his conflicted eyes.
“This is going to be awkward for both of us, but I'll cut to the chase. Butcher- um, I mean...Mr. Prime Minister, we could use your assistance.”
I blanched. Not at the nickname, I had brushed that one off long ago. But the idea that these stupid idealists would come begging at my doorstep, after all that had been done...
The three companions stared at the floor, lips and eyes tight. Chase still held his gaze, the internal conflict playing out across his face.
I struggled for words. “The grand revolution didn't pan out?”
Chase smacked the table with a heavy hand.
“The revolution worked! The people are the problem, they won't...they can't be controlled. It started in the capitol and its spreading. We've tried everything; lower taxes, more privileges, more access to the government...Bandits are claiming the countryside and insurgents are taking over the cities. I-i...didn't know where else to go.” He truly looked lost.
None of the problems were new to me, of course. I had ruled for forty years before these insolent pups had come along and set the spirit of my people aflame. Weeks of bloodshed and chaos had undone decades of my strong rule. Only now were they starting to realize the consequences of playing Hero.
“And what would you suggest, Mr. Prime Minister?” I asked Chase. “Shall I come back and restore my old government?” It was a joke of course, to gauge how desperate they were.
Chase and the companions shared a glance. Jesus, I thought, they must have actually discussed this.
“We're prepared to negotiate a transition,” he said. | Hmph. "Dark Lord." I don't know about that. That's what the media named me, but make no mistake, there isn't a day that goes by that I don't feel the raw guilt of my...my history...
I did what I had to do to protect my family, protect their future. The futures of my children. The stereotype of evil is that the "villain" shows no remorse for the killing, the tormenting of the "hero." Now I know by definition I was a villain and I do not deny that, but I remember...I remember every single name of every single person's life I ended.
Today...today marks ten years since I retired. I drink my black coffee and look out across the mountain range, my foggy breath emitting from my mouth. The icy mountain air pierces my skin and cools the surface of my flannel shirt. It's the only time I am at peace. Since ten years ago.
The man they call "Platinum Man," the shimmering silver lining of the city, the protector of homes and children, the one who can do...no...wrong. He found my daughter. She was eleven... I tried to protect her, but Platinum Man hit me out of the way. Instead of coming after me to finish me off, he struck my daughter. He killed my daughter.
See, there are no heroes. Everyone has their own motivation, their own passions. I had mine. I believe Platinum Man's passion is the fame and attention, being a public, heroic figure. But he's no hero.
But this is the calm I've found. My new life: the serenity and peace balance out the dark place I've lived in for ten years. I exhale in contentedness.
I see a battered jeep managing to drive up the rocky road up to my cabin's porch, dented and dirty from the turbulent drive.
Out of the car comes a man, familiar, with a few more scars since I last saw him. Two girls get out of the jeep with him, both unfamiliar to me.
"John," the man says, solemnly. "I...we need your help."
Platinum Man needs my help. Hmph.
"That part of my life is behind me. I don't know if I could bring myself to help you anyway...And I see you brought your new 'hero' girlfriends."
Expecting a quippy reply, he says nothing, uncomfortably ruffling his hand in his hair. "John...we need you. We have no choice."
People call me a villain. But I do have sympathy. I damn myself for this trait. With a sigh I say, "Come in...tell me everything." | |
[WP] You are a retired Dark Lord, living in the countryside. Ten years after your crushing defeat the heroes come for your help. | It was a crushing defeat, a well deserved one at that. I caused so much misery to whole continents in such a small time frame I felt nothing but relief when the heroes struck me with the finishing blow. They let me live, however and to this day, I have yet to know why.
10 years has passed since my retirement, or more accurately: my fall. My empire has been reduced to ash and while I might have abandoned my duties as a harbinger of evil, my powers are still as strong as ever. I now spend the rest of my days working part-time in a field to chase off any animals that might come and steal the fruit of my employer.
It was a peaceful time, and I was completely content with it.
While I watched over the field, my mind began to wander and suddenly I am reminded of my days as a dark lord. Fueled with greed, I commanded an army of millions and razed the kingdom with blood, ash and fire. While I cannot deny that I felt nothing but ecstasy as I watched my possessions increase, my consciousness cannot help but feel like I'm doing something wrong.
I couldn't stop however. I cannot. This feeling of dominance was too great for me to control on my own. That was when I gazed upon the faces of the heroes that struck me down, each of their faces fueled with but one message: Desperation. Desperate to save their dying kingdom from my greedy hands. I was taken aback, never have I ever thought about the people I was causing pain. Maybe this doubt was the cause of my fall.
As I continued to space out, I was brought back into the real world as my employer reached out to call me. Apparently, I have some people that wish to see me. Rising from the dusty stool I sat on, I made my way into the home of my employer, specifically the dining room. There, I was met with a gaze I was all to familiar with: Desperation.
"Alright, heroic brave. What's wrong? If you are to ask me about my movements, I have done nothing of the sort these past 10 years.", I quickly declared as I sat. When you're a former dark lord, you really get used to these sort of gazes from different people. They usually ask for the same thing every time something goes wrong. It has always been this way.
"Ah, greetings... Former-dark lord." The man who greeted me was a relatively young fellow, around 30 years of age. His red eyes were shining like a pair of rubies, and his pure face was a sight I was hoping I would never have to look at ever again. "I see time has treated you well, thus I assume that you have not grown weaker? I was worried that in your lonesome self, you would've gone on a drunken rage and started some trouble. Seems like I didn't have to worry about that."
This man... I still can't get used to his crude humor. "Cut the chatter, heroic brave. Why have you come here? The world should be at peace, as there has been no one as cruel as I have been during my time of rule.", I muttered.
The heroic brave nodded. "Ah, yeah. About that, I was tasked on taking down the remains of your empire. You had quite a huge following you know. Surely there must be some of your followers that wish to revive your beloved empire?"
Now to be clear, I did not like this man very much. His improper attitude never sat right with me, and this was the man who cut me down. No matter how you look at it, I just couldn't get used to this level of familiarity towards a man who was very recently my mortal enemy and a huge itch on my back. "And..? Did you come here expecting me to obediently assist you? Sorry. Despite my reformation, I still lack the will to help you, heroic brave. Besides...", as my sentence slowly halted, I began to look at the field I was tending to just a moment ago, "I rather fancy the peaceful life that you worked so hard to preserve. I'd rather do anything but return to the battlefield."
After listening to my response to his possible recruitment attempt, the heroic brave sighed. "Alright, ex-dark lord, I understand. But if you refuse to assist me on my hunt to strike down the remainder of your followers, we might run the risk of the new empire rising and disturbing the peace so enjoy so much."
I am growing tired of this useless conversation. I spoke in a more aggressive tone, "That won't be enough to change my mind, heroic brave. Although, having this peace disturbed would prove to be very troublesome in the future.
...besides, I wont be able to get along with your companions. So far, you have been the only one who has been able to tolerate me. I don't have anything I wish to protect other than myself, and the one person I wish to protect has died by your hand."
The heroic brave exhaled nervously. "Is there really nothing I can do to persuade you to join my mission?"
"Absolutely not."
"Even if I said I could bring back the individual you wished to protect?"
Following his remark followed a ghastly chill down the room. It was my power. Quicker than lightning, I had the heroic brave pinned down on the floor with a series of chains from weapons of the ancients.
"...Don't screw with me, heroic brave. You really think I haven't tried to bring her back? Is **Eia** your bargaining chip?!", I growled.
Despite his groaning, the heroic brave still managed to squeeze out an aura of confidence and a smirk. "Why of course, dark lord. My faction has spent a good 7 years looking for a way to revive the dead. The reason why reviving the dead has always been impossible is because the energy needed to bring back a single soul is simply far too great, and soul energy disappears far too quickly, thus it cannot be contained."
This explanation has piqued my interest, but I'm still not buying any of it. Maintaining my grip on the heroic brave, I grumbled, "...Keep going."
"But with your restraining magic, or as we like to call it: Potent Petrification, we can put your multitudes of followers on a secure place and slay the all at once and revive your beloved with the soul energy."
His idea makes sense. I don't like the idea of working with the heroic brave, but if it meant bringing back Eia back, it's not like I have much of a choice on the matter.
I reluctantly sighed and let go of the man. "...very well, heroic brave. But once this is all said and done, if the revival process turns out to be a hoax, you will be the first to die." I am still unconvinced, but at this point, I finally have something to think about.
Getting up, the heroic brave clapped his hands together and exclaimed, "Great! I'll inform your employer that you would be retiring from your job."
"I'll go get changed then."
"Oh, don't use your previous armor. People would recognize you."
"...right. Anyway, as much as I hate to say it, I **really** hope we get along, heroic brave.", I heavily sighed.
"Haha! Likewise, former dark lord!"
==
tfw first story and is currently losing my shit | Hmph. "Dark Lord." I don't know about that. That's what the media named me, but make no mistake, there isn't a day that goes by that I don't feel the raw guilt of my...my history...
I did what I had to do to protect my family, protect their future. The futures of my children. The stereotype of evil is that the "villain" shows no remorse for the killing, the tormenting of the "hero." Now I know by definition I was a villain and I do not deny that, but I remember...I remember every single name of every single person's life I ended.
Today...today marks ten years since I retired. I drink my black coffee and look out across the mountain range, my foggy breath emitting from my mouth. The icy mountain air pierces my skin and cools the surface of my flannel shirt. It's the only time I am at peace. Since ten years ago.
The man they call "Platinum Man," the shimmering silver lining of the city, the protector of homes and children, the one who can do...no...wrong. He found my daughter. She was eleven... I tried to protect her, but Platinum Man hit me out of the way. Instead of coming after me to finish me off, he struck my daughter. He killed my daughter.
See, there are no heroes. Everyone has their own motivation, their own passions. I had mine. I believe Platinum Man's passion is the fame and attention, being a public, heroic figure. But he's no hero.
But this is the calm I've found. My new life: the serenity and peace balance out the dark place I've lived in for ten years. I exhale in contentedness.
I see a battered jeep managing to drive up the rocky road up to my cabin's porch, dented and dirty from the turbulent drive.
Out of the car comes a man, familiar, with a few more scars since I last saw him. Two girls get out of the jeep with him, both unfamiliar to me.
"John," the man says, solemnly. "I...we need your help."
Platinum Man needs my help. Hmph.
"That part of my life is behind me. I don't know if I could bring myself to help you anyway...And I see you brought your new 'hero' girlfriends."
Expecting a quippy reply, he says nothing, uncomfortably ruffling his hand in his hair. "John...we need you. We have no choice."
People call me a villain. But I do have sympathy. I damn myself for this trait. With a sigh I say, "Come in...tell me everything." | |
[WP] You are a retired Dark Lord, living in the countryside. Ten years after your crushing defeat the heroes come for your help. | It was a crushing defeat, a well deserved one at that. I caused so much misery to whole continents in such a small time frame I felt nothing but relief when the heroes struck me with the finishing blow. They let me live, however and to this day, I have yet to know why.
10 years has passed since my retirement, or more accurately: my fall. My empire has been reduced to ash and while I might have abandoned my duties as a harbinger of evil, my powers are still as strong as ever. I now spend the rest of my days working part-time in a field to chase off any animals that might come and steal the fruit of my employer.
It was a peaceful time, and I was completely content with it.
While I watched over the field, my mind began to wander and suddenly I am reminded of my days as a dark lord. Fueled with greed, I commanded an army of millions and razed the kingdom with blood, ash and fire. While I cannot deny that I felt nothing but ecstasy as I watched my possessions increase, my consciousness cannot help but feel like I'm doing something wrong.
I couldn't stop however. I cannot. This feeling of dominance was too great for me to control on my own. That was when I gazed upon the faces of the heroes that struck me down, each of their faces fueled with but one message: Desperation. Desperate to save their dying kingdom from my greedy hands. I was taken aback, never have I ever thought about the people I was causing pain. Maybe this doubt was the cause of my fall.
As I continued to space out, I was brought back into the real world as my employer reached out to call me. Apparently, I have some people that wish to see me. Rising from the dusty stool I sat on, I made my way into the home of my employer, specifically the dining room. There, I was met with a gaze I was all to familiar with: Desperation.
"Alright, heroic brave. What's wrong? If you are to ask me about my movements, I have done nothing of the sort these past 10 years.", I quickly declared as I sat. When you're a former dark lord, you really get used to these sort of gazes from different people. They usually ask for the same thing every time something goes wrong. It has always been this way.
"Ah, greetings... Former-dark lord." The man who greeted me was a relatively young fellow, around 30 years of age. His red eyes were shining like a pair of rubies, and his pure face was a sight I was hoping I would never have to look at ever again. "I see time has treated you well, thus I assume that you have not grown weaker? I was worried that in your lonesome self, you would've gone on a drunken rage and started some trouble. Seems like I didn't have to worry about that."
This man... I still can't get used to his crude humor. "Cut the chatter, heroic brave. Why have you come here? The world should be at peace, as there has been no one as cruel as I have been during my time of rule.", I muttered.
The heroic brave nodded. "Ah, yeah. About that, I was tasked on taking down the remains of your empire. You had quite a huge following you know. Surely there must be some of your followers that wish to revive your beloved empire?"
Now to be clear, I did not like this man very much. His improper attitude never sat right with me, and this was the man who cut me down. No matter how you look at it, I just couldn't get used to this level of familiarity towards a man who was very recently my mortal enemy and a huge itch on my back. "And..? Did you come here expecting me to obediently assist you? Sorry. Despite my reformation, I still lack the will to help you, heroic brave. Besides...", as my sentence slowly halted, I began to look at the field I was tending to just a moment ago, "I rather fancy the peaceful life that you worked so hard to preserve. I'd rather do anything but return to the battlefield."
After listening to my response to his possible recruitment attempt, the heroic brave sighed. "Alright, ex-dark lord, I understand. But if you refuse to assist me on my hunt to strike down the remainder of your followers, we might run the risk of the new empire rising and disturbing the peace so enjoy so much."
I am growing tired of this useless conversation. I spoke in a more aggressive tone, "That won't be enough to change my mind, heroic brave. Although, having this peace disturbed would prove to be very troublesome in the future.
...besides, I wont be able to get along with your companions. So far, you have been the only one who has been able to tolerate me. I don't have anything I wish to protect other than myself, and the one person I wish to protect has died by your hand."
The heroic brave exhaled nervously. "Is there really nothing I can do to persuade you to join my mission?"
"Absolutely not."
"Even if I said I could bring back the individual you wished to protect?"
Following his remark followed a ghastly chill down the room. It was my power. Quicker than lightning, I had the heroic brave pinned down on the floor with a series of chains from weapons of the ancients.
"...Don't screw with me, heroic brave. You really think I haven't tried to bring her back? Is **Eia** your bargaining chip?!", I growled.
Despite his groaning, the heroic brave still managed to squeeze out an aura of confidence and a smirk. "Why of course, dark lord. My faction has spent a good 7 years looking for a way to revive the dead. The reason why reviving the dead has always been impossible is because the energy needed to bring back a single soul is simply far too great, and soul energy disappears far too quickly, thus it cannot be contained."
This explanation has piqued my interest, but I'm still not buying any of it. Maintaining my grip on the heroic brave, I grumbled, "...Keep going."
"But with your restraining magic, or as we like to call it: Potent Petrification, we can put your multitudes of followers on a secure place and slay the all at once and revive your beloved with the soul energy."
His idea makes sense. I don't like the idea of working with the heroic brave, but if it meant bringing back Eia back, it's not like I have much of a choice on the matter.
I reluctantly sighed and let go of the man. "...very well, heroic brave. But once this is all said and done, if the revival process turns out to be a hoax, you will be the first to die." I am still unconvinced, but at this point, I finally have something to think about.
Getting up, the heroic brave clapped his hands together and exclaimed, "Great! I'll inform your employer that you would be retiring from your job."
"I'll go get changed then."
"Oh, don't use your previous armor. People would recognize you."
"...right. Anyway, as much as I hate to say it, I **really** hope we get along, heroic brave.", I heavily sighed.
"Haha! Likewise, former dark lord!"
==
tfw first story and is currently losing my shit | Warm water filled the filthy bathtub to the brim. I dropped myself, splashing some onto the rotted tile nearby. I tried to relax my heartbeat as I sunk deeper. I put my head underwater for a few seconds, just enough to trigger my body's panic response.
It was nice to feel something, at last. I repeated the cycle a few times, until my chest was heaving and I was sputtering. I glanced out the window and saw a vehicle racing up my dusty driveway. How odd, I hadn't had visitors since...since I was destroyed and exiled from my land. I crawled out of the tub and searched for clean clothes. I settled for a wrinkled polo and khakis. They hung loosely on my skeletal frame. It would have to do.
Men in bandanas and dark clothes jumped out of the vehicle. My breath caught as I saw the pistols on their hips. So little had changed. They banged on the door – it was deja vu to their last visit, a decade ago. Different circumstances to be sure, but I smiled at the irony.
I opened the door and let them in. “Please sit down,” my voice croaked. It had been so long, too long, since I had spoken to another.
Three of the men grimaced, refusing to make eye contact. Chase was the only one who acknowledged my presence. He sat at the head of the table, staring hard at me. He had aged greatly; dark bags spread beneath his conflicted eyes.
“This is going to be awkward for both of us, but I'll cut to the chase. Butcher- um, I mean...Mr. Prime Minister, we could use your assistance.”
I blanched. Not at the nickname, I had brushed that one off long ago. But the idea that these stupid idealists would come begging at my doorstep, after all that had been done...
The three companions stared at the floor, lips and eyes tight. Chase still held his gaze, the internal conflict playing out across his face.
I struggled for words. “The grand revolution didn't pan out?”
Chase smacked the table with a heavy hand.
“The revolution worked! The people are the problem, they won't...they can't be controlled. It started in the capitol and its spreading. We've tried everything; lower taxes, more privileges, more access to the government...Bandits are claiming the countryside and insurgents are taking over the cities. I-i...didn't know where else to go.” He truly looked lost.
None of the problems were new to me, of course. I had ruled for forty years before these insolent pups had come along and set the spirit of my people aflame. Weeks of bloodshed and chaos had undone decades of my strong rule. Only now were they starting to realize the consequences of playing Hero.
“And what would you suggest, Mr. Prime Minister?” I asked Chase. “Shall I come back and restore my old government?” It was a joke of course, to gauge how desperate they were.
Chase and the companions shared a glance. Jesus, I thought, they must have actually discussed this.
“We're prepared to negotiate a transition,” he said. | |
[WP] You get a used memory foam pillow. On your first night using it, you notice that the memories of its past owners are now available to you. | Kylie's dreams had been fucked lately. Like, wring the sweat from her memory foam pillow, fucked. They slithered down from some unworldly perch to sink their claws in each and every night. She fought them, like a body having a bad reaction. Her arms flailed so violently her husband Jared was forced to sleep on the couch.
She'd tried to tell him, once.
"I dreamt I was a man last night," she'd said one morning.
Jared snorted his oatmeal.
"Yeah? Ha. Something you need to tell me?"
She blushed. How could she put it?
*I slit a little girl's throat with a steak knife? Felt the warm blood trickle down my forearm? Cut her into pieces and tossed her in a bag?*
"It..uh..felt pretty real."
"Hmm," Jared said.
That night, she murdered a family. Stalked them like a herd of deer. The father had cut her off in traffic--she knew this as surely as one knows their own name. The heavy throb of the vein in her neck marched her past their screened door like the beat of a drum.
Afterwards, she cleaned up in their bathroom. She wiped off the mirror and saw her reflection--a barrelchested man with a fading hairline. Spatters of blood coagulated to his beard.
The dream played through like a movie, and when the credits rolled, she woke up laughing into her pillow.
Jared tilted his head and said:
"We should get some air."
Together they walked to the park. Kylie put one foot in front of the other, but couldn't keep the blood from her mind. It pooled and pooled, try as she might to sweep it away.
*Let it fill,* she thought, *and I am lost.*
Jared's hand felt clammy in hers. She squeezed it hard, like a tether to life itself.
Up ahead, swimmers splashed in the park lake. Two kids laughed and dunked one another. A mother kept her toddler afloat.
"Monkey arms, Monkey arms!" the mother said.
And at the edge of the lapping water, a barrel-chested man built a sandcastle with his daughter. He swooped the girl up and trundled her into the water, laughing as she squealed.
Jared lead Kylie onward, trying to make small talk about the weather, but she heard nothing. As they walked past the beach, she and the barrelchested man met eyes. The color drained from her face. It was like looking in a mirror.
| When I went to sleep that night, I never would have thought that something so fantastic would have been waiting for me on the other side. In fact, it had been years since anything good had happened to me while I slept. I'd been suffering from Sleep Paralysis for 3 years when I caved and bought a memory foam pillow on eBay, hoping it would put me in a deep enough sleep to escape the terror of a waking nightmare. Indeed, for the first time in a while, I had a good dream. In it, I was taller, had good posture, and was laughing on a dock, somewhere among the mountains. A beautiful girl, more beautiful than my girlfriend, was sitting next to me, and laughing, and we shared a kiss, before the fishing rod between my legs jerked. I pulled it, really felt myself pulling it, and a large trout came from the water, fell onto the dock, and sputtered around for a while before I put my foot down on its belly. The girl and I put it in a bucket and started having sex, which was viscerally realistic and very good. I would have continued to completion, but not all dreams are perfect -- a large bird of prey swooped down and took the fish right from the bucket, and I woke up.
It was 6:30, an hour before I normally woke up, but I felt more rested than I had in my entire life. Two months ago I had received a promotion and the extra work had been keeping me tired, but one night on the memory foam pillow changed everything. I got ready for work more quickly than usual, singing a happy tune and receiving a look from my girlfriend that made me realize how much the lack of sleep had become a part of my character -- she seemed to think I was a stranger walking in the skin of her boyfriend. I kissed her and told her that I had a fantastic night's sleep, and she laughed, kissing me back and saying "finally".
With an extra hour's time before work, I decided to e-mail the guy who sold me the pillow and tell him how much I loved it. I knew he was unlikely to respond, but I felt some strange, mystical connection to him after having slept on his pillow. I told him about the past few months, about the sleep paralysis, and that I was able to sleep and actually dream something nice for the first time in a long while. I clicked send and went off to work.
When I returned, he still hadn't responded, so I made dinner, still singing a happy tune after a non-exhausting day of work, and settled in for some TV before sleeping again. For once, I was actually excited for some sleep, but as with any amount of excitement, I was also filled with anxiety. What if my sleep wasn't as good tonight? What if that was just a fluke of a new pillow? I quickly calculated the cost of regularly buying memory foam and decided it wouldn't be worth it worrying unless I tested my question with the real deal. That night, when I went to sleep, I dreamt of being underneath the stars, the small flap of my tent open just enough to see the big dipper, and the ground underneath me warm from the day's sun.
When I woke up that morning, I had a notification on my phone. The guy who sold me the pillow responded, and he was thrilled that I enjoyed the pillow. When I responded, he quickly replied, and we ended up calling each other and got to talking. What happened next still sends chills down my spine. I mentioned the dreams again, and he asked me what I had been dreaming. I told him about the fish, and the hawk, and the tent, and he was silent on the other end.
"Who are you" He asked aggressively.
"Jason Pilkey, Chicago, IL" I responded.
"How do you know about that stuff?" He barked.
"About what stuff"
"About the lake, about Charlotte, about the tent"
"I dreamed about them. And who's Charlotte?" I asked, incredulously. The tone had shifted to hostile in under a second, and I had been in such a good mood.
"Don't play dumb with me, buddy, how long have you been following me? Did you hack my Facebook account?"
"No way! Are you saying that stuff happened to you?"
"I said, don't play dumb with me buddy, you know it happened to me."
I hung up the phone. Things were getting to weird and I was headed to work soon. The guy had been nice, but by the end, he was starting to sound a little crazy. Of course, I didn't believe a word he had said. I went about my day, even saw my girlfriend for a quick booty call and catch up before I went home, exhausted, and fell asleep immediately.
I woke up in the middle of the night, and realized I couldn't move. My first thought was that the sleep paralysis was back. Then I realized that the pillow beneath me was gone. I tried to look around, down to the foot of my bed, where the hallucinations I had usually began to creep up my legs to terrorize me, but I didn't recognize the bed sheets, or for that matter my own hands, set on either side of the foreign comforter like silverware. I was dreaming again, dreaming that I was laying in bed. I had only just realized this when I felt something, visceral again. It was a large, gloved hand, a masked man who pushed my head back by my hair, and took the all too familiar pillow and pushed it against my mouth. I felt myself suffocate before I woke back up. That morning, I still felt well rested, but the first thing I did was look for a new pillow, one that didn't come with any memories.
| |
[WP] People have stopped dying. Scientists can't figure out why. You are a priest who has just graduated from seminary. You find Death terrified and hiding in the darkest corner of creation. | I couldn't believe my eyes at first. It was one thing to hear about him, but another to see him, albeit shaking in a corner of the monastery in the middle of nowhere, Europe. The same one that I was sent to for further training. But it was him, from the tip of ivory bone toe to the top of his shadowy ebony cloak.
"Hello?" I asked, lowly.
His face was shoved into the corner, and from the sound of it, he was weeping. He wiped his face with his arm, then whispered, "Hello."
I wiped the dust from the front pew and sat, putting my hands together. "What're you doing here?"
"What do you mean?" He snapped.
"Well, you're death, the Death. Aren't you supposed to be out collecting souls, or something like that?"
"Who're you to tell me what I'm supposed to be doing, Priest? Yes, I know of you, I know of everyone who lives and breathes. But it's all worthless now, isn't it? You've read the paper, you've seen on your precious television." The words seemed palpable, as if they seeped out his bones in a stream of tarry liquid.
I remembered the front page, I remember each news station covering the same story: People stopped dying. They couldn't explain it, nor could the scientists, but it happened. The video tape recordings of people jumping from bridges, staying underwater for hours on end, setting themselves on fire, and so forth. But none of them died. . . A little hurt, but no death.
I never grew curious to take my own life, but perhaps I'm less masochistic than the majority of people. Regardless, if people aren't meant to die, it's in God's plan.
"Yes," I said, "I've seen the news. People can't die, is this true?" As if it came from Death, the news would be more believable.
He took a while to reply, but finally uttered, "Yes. . . It's true."
"Do you know how, or why. . .?"
"No, of course I don't. Why would I know that, Priest? I'm the Collector of Souls, the Bringer of the Dead, the Reaper! You want answers like that, ask your Lord."
Ignoring his vehemence, I asked, "Why were you crying, just now?"
"I wasn't crying, merely sleeping."
"Are you certain, Death? I could swear that I hear—"
He snapped up onto his feet, standing nearly eight feel tall, and looked down upon me through a gloom within his hood. I couldn't make out this skeletal head, but as if miles and miles away in the shadows, I saw a flicker of fire where his eyes would be. The ends of his cloak rippled like water, and moved around the stone floor as if they had life of their own. If he would've possessed his scythe, I probably would've urinated myself.
"I was not crying, flesh-bag. Sleeping, I was sleeping." He said, black mist flowing out of the gloom in his hood, dissipating above him.
I patted the seat next to me, asking, "Why don't you sit over here, and talk to me about this whole mess? Even if you weren't crying — which you weren't, of course — it sounds like you need someone to talk to. I'm a pretty good listener."
He seemed beside himself, I could see the tension inside him as he stood there, fidgeting. He wanted to sit and vent, but at the same time, he was Death, not some priest's follower. At last he came to a decision. He floated over to the pew and sat down next to me, sending small puffs of smoke billowing up around him.
"It's just," he began, "what am supposed to do if no one is dying? My whole duty in this universe is to collect the souls and bring them to where they need to do. . . Well except for the good ones, those are out of my hands, but the others, those are my territory. But now no one is dying, no one is getting sick, no one is doing anything but living their damn lives. What about me? I was born into this and now it's irrelevant. I cannot start anew, I cannot begin to collect lively souls, I cannot do anything of the sort."
"Maybe it'll change?"
"Doubtful, Priest. Once He has made a decision, it's usually forevermore. . . Unless humans create something that can kill them off, like curing a disease of some nature. But why would they do that? They already have a million of things that can be used to kill themselves, even the stuff they drink and eat kill them! If nothing now does the trick, what could possibly do it?"
"Bombs?" I said, dumbly.
"You people have bombed countries, and some people still live the next day. God I hate to see what your planet is like in a year or two with all the war that's going to occur. If no one can die, the next war will be endless."
I mulled over some thoughts, then suggested, "What don't you go to another planet? I've heard there's life elsewhere in the cosmos."
"Maybe, but they're not human yet. I'd have to wait millions of years to wait for them to get to the point you guys are at now, and even then, do they even have souls? It's all a big risk to invest time and travel to another planet to find that those people don't have souls. God. . . this sucks."
"Have you tried killing the people yourself? You know, the bad ones of course: the rapists, the pedophiles, etc."
Death looked up from the ground and up into the air, as if staring off into a vista I couldn't see. "You know. . ." he began to say, "you might be right. Maybe. . . but are you not a priest, a man of God? Should you not be teaching peace and love and acceptance?"
He was right, but at the same time wrong. "I believe those who do hellish acts upon innocent victims should be punished. . .
"You're the cure for it. Perhaps the only way for those to die, is to be killed by Death himself." I finished.
He jumped up into the air, whipped around and grabbed my hand. His fingers were heavy like marble, and brought a frigid chill up my arm that settled into my chest. The world went dark and numb. My brain felt heavy, as if filled with lead and my lungs crackled and burned with every breath. Death must've noted this quickly, as he released my hand and life came fluttering back into me.
"Sorry, but thank you. That has to be it, I must be the one who kills them. Life is the disease and my scythe is the cure. Now I must be off, hopefully you're right Priest."
The ends of his cloak twisted upwards, spiraling in the air, forming some kind of hellish portal. In a loud echoing pop, he vanished into it. And that was the last time I saw him, though it wasn't the last I heard of him.
The following morning, as I sat in my kitchenette and drank coffee, there were dozens of reports of people dying by beheading. They couldn't explain how it was happening, or who was doing it, but it was happening. I smiled and whispered, "you're welcome."
| I found him there, huddled in his rags.
His face seemed to change at every angle. He looked like one person at one moment then a different person at another, yet still his skin remained pale and his face looked to be scattered with soot and dust.
" He said not to look. "
As he spoke, a trail of smoke curled up his lips to gather above his head in an ever darkening cloud.
I had been working as a missionary in Liberia. Terrible things happened in Liberia, but that was then and this is now. Since the time the wars had ended, life in Liberia has been peaceful. The people are rebuilding and communities are regrowing, sprouting up like the now plentiful crops that now flush the countryside.
A church had been built. It was built by men who had seen and done terrible things. They were former child soldiers and now they were men, men with families, yet still, men with regret. They worked through their regret with acts of charity and generosity.
A local point of interest, had been some ruins nearby, just a few scattered stones that cropped up near a waterfall, really, nothing too exciting, still, I had some time to explore the local area and I had grown tired of the local bars and the many games of bocce ball and darts I had played with the good people of my parish.
There had been an earthquake that seemed to expose an opening. The opening led up into the mountain. Inside the mountain I found a great chamber of intricate stonework and lit candles. The stonework showed images of a great figure, a man who towered above other men. Below the men were much smaller figures. They appeared to be the figures of men who bowed and raised their hands high into the air.
"I shouldn't have looked. " he said with his face in his grimy hands. I thought he was just some wayward soul, perhaps delusional or high on some kind of new drug.
"It was all a ruse! It was all lies! From the very beginning!" He looked up at me then, his eyes wide in frantic desperation, his throat rasping out the last few words with the embers of his trailing breath.
"Tell me, son, what troubles you?" He didn't respond. He only held up a picture. It was a picture of a man.
I recognized the face. It was Elon Musk, tech billionaire and entrepreneur. It was a magazine cover with a headline in big goofy letters that read, ' Is Life a Computer Simulation?!'
" Those science people are fools," I told him, " they are fools deluded by the hubris of man's own small achievements and constructs. Even now they fail to understand this gift of immortality that humanity has been given. All of men's endeavors pale in the glory of God!"
" You don't get it," he said, " I have, like, admin privileges or something, this is the fucking debug room! "
"What are you talking about?" I asked, for I had no knowledge of the intricacies involved with the world of computing.
"Look, he said as he opened a console of bright blue light and made a few gestures.
"Now look at your hand. " he said.
I held up my hand and only saw the stump of my wrist. The shock sent me catching myself as I fell back into the coarse stonework of the wall behind me.
"It's true, you fucking asshole! We're all just a bunch of goddamn computer programs. Oh, hold on, I'll change that back. Here I thought I was immortal the whole time, creeping around, thinking I was badass when I got to take some asshole out in a rewarding way, chock full of poetic justice. Turns out, I was never alive at all! Instead, I'm just like that Indian kid in the Matrix sequels! I felt so bad for that kid! Nothing? Okay, I don't blame you if you didn't see the sequels."
I didn't know how to react to this experience, but the man's ravings had surely caused me some sort of psychological distress that made me prone to hallucinations. I walked away touching my now very real and present left hand. I left the strange man to his strange place and his strange experiences. I never went back to those ruins.
"Never alive at all."
Even now, I try not to think about it.
| |
[WP] People have stopped dying. Scientists can't figure out why. You are a priest who has just graduated from seminary. You find Death terrified and hiding in the darkest corner of creation. | Something odd had happened. It certainly didn't take a genius to figure that out. The difficult part was trying to find out what had happened, and why.
As a human, it was natural for me to have learned about the process of death at some point in the early stages of my life. People live for a while, then they stop living for whatever reason. That's just how it goes. But what if people just...carried on living, even after something was supposed to stop them?
The change was hardly noticed at first. The odd person making a borderline miraculous recovery from a terminal illness, or having the ability to walk away from being run down by a truck. But as the stories spread, people began to experiment, for lack of a better term. Internet stunts and viral challenges began to get more and insane due to the removed chance of failure. Fun nights out went from having a drink with some friends to raucous, almost nonstop demolition derbies in open fields, city centres and occasionally even in rush hour traffic, with no one suffering even a slight scratch. People were even getting paid to volunteer as lab rats to help scientists determine how far this supposed immortality could go.
But I never would have thought I would be the first to find out what really happened...
It was a lazy Saturday afternoon, about nine or ten months after the first stories of death no longer occurring were published. I had been at the local church all day, currently cleaning up after a small fete. Something the town organised once every few weeks to give families something to do, alongside teaching the local kids about the stories and faiths of Christianity. Not that thay listened. They were usually too full of sugar to comprehend anything anyone outside of their age spectrum said. After throwing away the last of the confetti, I headed back inside to clean up for tomorrow's service. And that's when it happened...
A small, quiet whimper echoed across the empty hall, causing a ripple in the holy water kept in the font. Immediately, my curiosity was piqued. At first, I thought it to be a child hidden a bit too well during a game of hide and seek, but the church doors had been locked until I entered. Besides, their parents would still be around if that were the case.
The whimpering echoed again, followed by a terrified scream that set the church's candles alight, the flames extinguishing as the noise did. 'Odd...' I thought to myself, eyes glancing across the church in a befuddled manner. The scream sounded almost male...
I walked around, trying to get an idea for where the noise was coming from. And eventually, I found it; an ancient looking, intricately detailed wooden door. Given the time, I would have liked to give the carvings more thought, but two things stopped me from doing so. One, the whimpers came again, much louder than the previous occurrences. The source of the noise was difinitely behind this door. And two, this door had never been here before...
Deciding to venture inside, I brought my hand to the rough, jagged bronze doorknob and began to twist it, small cuts appearing on my fingers. Taking a deep breath in an attempt to send the pain away, I pushed the door open and peeked into what was hidden behind it.
The room beyond this mysterious door was...nothing. I don't think I could even call it a room. No floor, no ceiling, no walls; just blank whiteness as far as the eye could see. That is, except for one figure. A man, curled up into a ball and snivelling like a five year old. Two large black wings on his back, seeming to wrap around the figure in an attempt to comfort him. Looking down, his clothing seemed even more bizarre; a cross between rune-laden cloth robes and onyx-studded armour plates, striking a sharp comtrast to the long silver hair he possessed.
Normally, in this sort of situation, I would try to convince myself that the whole thing was a dream and proceed to punch myself awake. But something seemed...different about this scenario. Giving in further to temptation, I took a few steps into the 'room', each step sending ripples across the floor, befire stopping in front of this figure.
"Um...e-excuse me? Are you alright?" I ask, prompting a startled shock from the man. He immediately rose to his feet, a look of terror stuck on his face and accompanying his rapid breaths.
"...stop...the screams...make them stop..." He whispered, throwing his head into his hands before unleashing another frightened yell. But the room was silent, save for us two. Not a single over noise could be heard.
"Um...screams?"
"Yes...the screams of the damned...hundreds of thousands of millions of souls, banished to eternal torment by my hands. I-I can't take anymore of this..." The figure replied, lunging towards me and taking my hands in his, silver locks covering most of his face.. "Please...help me. Release me from this godforsaken prison..."He continued before stepping back.
Naturally, I was dumbfounded by this request. How was I supposed to help someone with something I could not see or hear? However, the worfs that escaped my lips in that next moment confounded me even more.
"A...Alright. I'll do what I can."
The faintest of smiles graced the man's almost sheet white face as he held his hand out, mumbling something I could only ever hope to translate. After a few seconds however, some things became clear; a pillar of light appeared at his side, stopping at around his height before curving in places, moving out towards the left at the top. The shape's glow soon faded, revealing itself to be a twisted, ebon scythe, various symbols decorating the blade with a strong resemblance to the robes of its master. Raising his arm to the side with an almost routine grace, his hand came to grip the scythe's handle before bringing it forward, presenting it to me.
"Take it...I relinquish my position unto you..." He whispered, letting go of the weapon as its blade sank into the ground before taking a few steps back, allowing me to take it.
To this day, I don't know what it was that caused me to take hold of that infernal scythe. Maybe it was curiosity, maybe it was pity for this man who was supposedly subject to years of torment. But there's one thing I know for sure about that day...
Life, and indeed, death, wouldn't be the same.
My hands moved slowly up the weapon's handle as I lifted it from the ground, somewhat surprised by how light it was compared to its size. However, the day's events were just getting started...
A great pain ran across my shoulder blades as they seemed to split wide open, two familiar black wings erupting out from the gashes. As they settled, the pain slowly went away as my clothes began to glow. Slowly but surely, they began to change, becoming similar to the clothing of the man in front of me, save for a few different symbol placements and adjustments to my sizes. As the glow and pain melted away completely, I turned my gaze to the figure before me, only to be even more surprised by what had happened to him.
The once quiverimg wings he possessed were gone, as if they had traded places between himself and I. On top of that, his clothes had changed, now a loose black shirt with matching jeans and boots. In the span of little under a minute, it was like we had fully swapped positions.
"Ah...much better. I was afraid I was going to go deaf..." He sighed, stretching as his gaze turned to me. "Now...you're probably wondering what just happened..."
As he talked, I was too caught up with staring at my new clothes, almost not hearing what he said.
"Um...w-what was that?" I eventually replied, prompting a chuckle from the figure.
"Don't worry. If you take me back to your house, I'll explain everything. It would be best if no one else found this place..." | You see, one day, people stopped dying. Even people with terminal conditions lived on, alive and well when they clearly shouldn't be. One poor chap cut off his own head. Turns out, he didn't die, but he can't re-grow his body, either.
That was four years ago, a month before I would choose which college to go to. I chose a religious one to try to make sense out of this with some theology, as science clearly lacked answers. Now, I just graduated, ready to make my mark on the world.
But first, I'll go to sleep. I need my sleep. That graduation was long and boring.
---------------------------------------------------------------
All of a sudden, I saw a vast cavern, with a ceiling and walls too far away to see. I could only tell that I was in a cavern because the stars weren't visible, nor was anything else. Except for a poor old man on the ground, crying.
"Humans..." I thought I heard him, between sobs.
"What...What happened?" I asked him.
"I was going about my business, trying to collect dead souls, like I normally do, and then...I..I...I saw it," he answered.
"Saw what?" I pressed.
"The poor chap. Those other people hated him, so they slowly dematerialized him, forcing him to watch as they got rid of his vital organs," he answered, seeming a little better, but still not all right.
"I told God this. I told him that we shouldn't make humans, that they would go on to do horrific, terrible things, but he didn't listen to me," he said, shifting from terrified to angry. "I told you so!" he yelled at the ceiling.
I heard an ominous thundering that I couldn't make heads or tails out of, but which filled me with dread. And I ran, far away, and reality faded back into black. | |
(Gender doesn't matter, pick n choose! :) ) | [WP] A Dragon in a nearby town has everything they ever wanted. Except romance. You are the object of their affections. | My name is Papillon and I am wandering poet. I and adored by all the people of all the races I meet. Without bragging too much I consider myself a very skilled fencer and love a good challenge. I am by no means a hero but I meet them in my travels, join them in their journeys and write epic poetry about them.
Currently I'm on the run from a terrible stalker, a woman I met in the tavern last night. She was fascinated by my stories and after speaking with her over few drinks we ended up sleeping together.
But when I woke up next morning all I saw beside me was a sleeping dragon. I tried to sneak out, but it woke up. As it spoke to me I recognised the voice, the same voice as the woman from last night. I still ran away and she have been stalking me ever since.
I can hear her wings flapping high above me. After journeying with a party of different adventures I fought I had finally lost her. I don't know how she found me, but she came just in time to safe me from a group of giants.
"Hello sweetie"
I look upon the descending dragon. As she lands before me she takes human form, the same form she had when we first met.
"Long time no see" I answer back.
"Oh, please don't look so disappointed to see me, my sweet Butterfly."
"Would you please, not call me butterfly, it is not very masculine."
"But that is what it means, your name that is."
Yes, I was named butterfly by my parents, and I always kinda hated it, but since I left my home country very few people understood the true meaning of my name, so I had used it frequently.
"Why are you following me again? It has been so long time since I last saw you stalking me, I had hoped you lost track of me."
Oh, sweetie. I never lost track of you. I have just kept my distance, observed you from afar."
"I guess there is only one thing to do" I say and throw a smoke bomb. I turn around and run away.
But she catches me quickly. The trick had worked in the past, but not now. As I take a deep breath I decide I can no longer run away from my responsibilities as a father.
____________
Note: This is based on the background story for my Bard in DnD 5e. | Obviously a dragon has no romantic partner, especially when he's the only dragon to exist that we know of. This dragon lives peacefully in Dawnton. The dragon is named Zer. Zer is a large man and he has piles upon piles of riches, but the only person he wants to share them with is me. Of course, me, because everything bad happens to me. I don't know why it is I, but it is. As of now I'm on my way to talk to Zer. I mean from what I've heard he's peaceful.
Ok, I've arrived at Zer's and his house is.. well beautiful wouldn't describe it. It is absolutely huge. Every door entrance has to be at least 30 metres tall. He seems nice enough. I mean he's very handsome, but I'm not sure how me, a human man, would be compatible with a fat man of a dragon. Zer is nice and he knows how to seduce a human. I mean he's been giving me all I want. I'm starting to love Zer, and I know he loves me back.
The^end^and^I^know^this^was^really^bad |
(Gender doesn't matter, pick n choose! :) ) | [WP] A Dragon in a nearby town has everything they ever wanted. Except romance. You are the object of their affections. | Continuation of story at: https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/6g8aro/wp_the_bartender_frowns_at_you_as_he_points_at/diq49s6/
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Astrix tried not to look bored in front of the Wood Elf court. The elves were like him, long lived people steeped in tradition. Unlike them however, Atrix had human blood in his veins and demanded change or action. The rituals and traditions were keeping him from starting his investigation of the attacks that had been plaguing the city of Gaia’s Cradle.
Astrix allowed his eyes to dart over the scenery within the throne room for the 5th time. Every building within this city was shaped from a living tree. Obviously, this process was heavily influenced by the nature magics that the elves possessed. The floors were polished so they seemed to have an amber sheen and one could make out the rings of the tree’s age. The audience hall stretched about 50 ft. long by 10 ft. wide. Then they went to the stairs leading up to the Oaken Throne. Upon it sat the queen of the elves, Sylvianna the first of her name.
The queen of the elves was short, as was many of the elven blood, standing at 4’8” if she were not on her throne. Many of the wood elves had deeply tanned skin to skin that could even resemble the dark browns of the trees they lived in. Their eyes carried the typical elven slant and their ears were long and tipped. However, all eyes immediately went to the diamond crown that was resting on her head. To the untrained eye, the crown glowed with the light that went through the 10 diamonds scattered through the crown, however they were all enchanted to cast the light. As well as enhance her presence and ability to speak. She finally finished the greeting ritual and Astrix’s focus returned to her words, “It is good to have you back among our people, Lord Astrix. I fear that we have need of you and your particular… talents.”
I bowed humbly, supporting myself on my staff, “Of course your majesty. Perhaps you can tell me of the events troubling you so that I might be able to serve you?”
She gestured to a man that was standing to her side, her consort and the leader of the elven armies, Marshal Faladar. He cleared his throat and spoke in a frank manner befitting his military career, “Of course, as you know there has been an emerald dragon that has been living near here over the past 1000 years. Typically, the emerald breed of dragon happens to have a deep connection with the Earth Mother like we do. So, we have had sort of a symbiotic relationship. She does not attack our people and we do not interfere with her hunting or accumulation of wealth.”
He continues, pacing as he spoke, “However, something seems to have upset this balance. She has been coming closer to our lands and putting our deer to flight as well as making many close passes to our watch towers with her wings. She has not attacked yet but we fear that she might be trying to provoke us into a conflict that we do not wish to engage in. “
I nodded in understanding, “So you seek one who is familiar with the ways of dragons to ascertain the nature of this threat and to either solve the issue diplomatically or to slay the dragon. It is something that is within my power.”
The queen clapped her hands, “Excellent! Shall we draw up your typical terms of payment or is there something else that you wish?” Inwardly, I sighed. The queen had long been trying to have me marry her daughter. Whether it was her desire for me to bolster the power of her mages, or just get me to work for free, I was never quite sure. However I took a moment to look her over, she was rather plain in comparison to her mother. Yet, as I looked closer in her direction I saw another elf that stood behind the princess with her eyes cast downward.
One would not give so much as a second look at a handmaiden, however I was not like ordinary men. You see, I possessed what the magicians called “the mage sight”, all trained mages had the ability to see the magical power in objects or people. While all peoples had latent magic within them, mages had auras that were based around the amount of power that they could wield. Whereas other creatures that had innate magic, like dragons, unicorns or creatures from the other realms shone like the stars. This handmaid was a burning beacon of magic. Then, as if she sensed my gaze, she looked up and met my eyes.
Her eyes were a deep green and she possessed the tanned brown skin of the elves. What set her apart from the other elven women in the court was the platinum blonde hair that she possessed. Something that many elves probably assumed came from a human/elf liaison at some point in her family’s history. She averted her gaze again away from me, but I could tell that there was fear in her face. As if I knew a deep secret.
I returned my attention to the queen and shook my head to her, “I will take any payment that I wish from the dragon’s horde. I will not burden the kingdom with my normal fee. Just point me in the direction that you believe the lair is in and I will go forth.”
The Marshall came down and joined me in the hall and escorted me out of the palace, as I left I spared one look back toward where the princess stood but I noticed that her handmaid was gone. The Marshall and I continued to the northern gate of the city, through the crowds of interested onlookers. He then gave me a map and marked the suspected position of the dragon’s lair. I thanked him for his help and I went on my way.
It was a hike that lasted me three days, during this time I happened to see the emerald dragon fly overhead. It was a lengthy creature, about 40’ long if I were to guess. Its great wings sent dust and dirt flying as it skimmed the treetops. Its scales shone like cut emeralds that covered the length of its body and I saw it breathe its great dragon breath.
If I had to guess, it knew of my presence and was toying with me. Dragons, like mages, possessed the ability to see magic as they were the original wielders of magic. I looked at my staff, the legendary staff of Talindar. Talindar was a dragon who changed shape and walked among the races of this plane. He taught magic to humans, elves, dwarves and even some of the lesser races like orcs, lizard men, etc. This staff was created while he was building the first Palace of the Magi. Not only was it a focus for his tremendous power, it was also capable of controlling a dragon on a rampage. As I was its wielder now, it boosted my reputation as a dragon specialist.
The dragon was flying in the distance around the base of a mountain that rose up in the middle of the forest. It seemed to want this confrontation to be at its lair and have the advantage of whatever defenses it has set up over time. As it seemed to fly in the distance he found his age catching up to him and a sense of exhaustion came over him. Did he really have to kill this force of nature? Did he need to destroy a being of such awesome power but also possessing such captivating beauty? He murmured a prayer to Aether the god of magic, “Please let this end peacefully, If at all possible.”
(Will be continued, stay tuned) | Obviously a dragon has no romantic partner, especially when he's the only dragon to exist that we know of. This dragon lives peacefully in Dawnton. The dragon is named Zer. Zer is a large man and he has piles upon piles of riches, but the only person he wants to share them with is me. Of course, me, because everything bad happens to me. I don't know why it is I, but it is. As of now I'm on my way to talk to Zer. I mean from what I've heard he's peaceful.
Ok, I've arrived at Zer's and his house is.. well beautiful wouldn't describe it. It is absolutely huge. Every door entrance has to be at least 30 metres tall. He seems nice enough. I mean he's very handsome, but I'm not sure how me, a human man, would be compatible with a fat man of a dragon. Zer is nice and he knows how to seduce a human. I mean he's been giving me all I want. I'm starting to love Zer, and I know he loves me back.
The^end^and^I^know^this^was^really^bad |
(Gender doesn't matter, pick n choose! :) ) | [WP] A Dragon in a nearby town has everything they ever wanted. Except romance. You are the object of their affections. | The meat sizzled and popped as the juices heated and slid off the makeshift griddle into the fire below. A gentle breeze sighed and whistled through ruined houses and fallen stonework. Insects and field beasts crooned out their songs, desperately trying to get laid. It was peaceful. Almost musical, really.
So I was quite put out when the fire went out.
Great gusts of wind buffeted the area around me, kicking up dust and choking my little campfire. To my left, a burned-out husk of a house collapsed, further adding to the chaos. Directly in front of me a sleek black shape alighted, its wings causing the blasts of air. The ground shook and a scaly, serpentine head focused as the dragon caught sight of me.
*Oh dear,* I thought, continuing to munch on the wedge of cheese, *not again.*
The great beast's jaws parted and, despite all the laws of physiology crying foul, it spoke. "Hello again, Rodrick." Its wings folded and it settled atop its paws like a cat. "How are you this fine evening?"
"Hello, Hermina." I said, not allowing this interruption to stop my meal, "I was doing alright. Something seems to have extinguished my fire, though." I looked pointedly into one slit eye as I said that.
If it was possible for a dragon to look abashed, this one did. "Sorry," she said, "I got really excited on my way here. I-"
I held my hand up. "Look, I've told you," I began, swallowing the last bite of cheese, "I'm not interested. I mean, come on." I gestured up and down her behemoth body. "It's not even physically possible. I'd be crushed."
A plaintive tone entered her voice. "Just hear me out." She begged. "Please." I sighed and rolled my hand, motioning for her to continue. Like a wave, a wiggle moved down her spine and she shuffled a little closer. "Like I've said before, I want you to move in with me." I frowned and she hurriedly continued, "You'd never need to worry about food or shelter or safety ever again. You'd never want for *anything* ever again," She started, her words picking up steam. "I recently -ahem- acquired a nice tower that we could live in. It's quite comfortable and fully outfitted by the former occupant."
I cocked an eyebrow at her. It wasn't hard to guess what had become of the previous occupant. Hermina continued quickly, "I promise that I'll be on my best behavior from here on out. Cross my heart." She awkwardly made the accompanying gesture with one taloned paw. "Come on, Rodrick." She continued, the plaintive note back again. "I know you enjoy my company as much as I enjoy yours." She glanced coyly from the side. "Remember Iltha?"
My cheeks burned and I looked away. "I was drunk," I muttered, "and anyway-"
She cut me off this time. "The only thing holding you back is my form, right?"
I frowned. Was it? She hadn't been wrong earlier, I really do enjoy her company. And her affection and persistence were rather endearing. If there weren't the constant risk of violent disemboweling, would I really be able to live with her?
Gods help me, yes.
Somehow she seemed to sense my answer without me needing to vocalize it. She said, "Then watch this." My eyes opened a little wider as my gaze snapped back to her. Hermina's jaws dropped open and the moonlight glinted off something gold caught there. An amulet.
A stream of sounds began to issue from her throat, sometimes guttural, sometimes lyrical, but always to the same beat. The words, I realized, to a spell. Her scales rippled and shimmered as the intonation continued. Gradually, the moonlight ceased to be reflected there, and, I saw with a shock, her shape began to warp. Her extremities began to twist inwards like the waters of a pitch-black whirlpool, collapsing in on itself, shrinking. Shrinking to a *very* human-sized form.
The last word echoed as spell ended. The last vestiges of the magic faded and the moonlight returned. I gulped. Standing in front of me was a woman, maybe half a head taller than I, her skin every bit as dark as her scales had been. The moon highlighted the spectacular curves of her *totally naked* body and shined off her rich, wavy red hair which covered one of her shining yellow eyes. She watched me, silently, her lips parting in a smile to reveal sparkling white teeth.
Ignoring the stirring down-below that urged me to stare at her a little longer, I tore my eyes up and locked them with hers. "Well," I said hoarsely, "that does change things, doesn't it?" | Obviously a dragon has no romantic partner, especially when he's the only dragon to exist that we know of. This dragon lives peacefully in Dawnton. The dragon is named Zer. Zer is a large man and he has piles upon piles of riches, but the only person he wants to share them with is me. Of course, me, because everything bad happens to me. I don't know why it is I, but it is. As of now I'm on my way to talk to Zer. I mean from what I've heard he's peaceful.
Ok, I've arrived at Zer's and his house is.. well beautiful wouldn't describe it. It is absolutely huge. Every door entrance has to be at least 30 metres tall. He seems nice enough. I mean he's very handsome, but I'm not sure how me, a human man, would be compatible with a fat man of a dragon. Zer is nice and he knows how to seduce a human. I mean he's been giving me all I want. I'm starting to love Zer, and I know he loves me back.
The^end^and^I^know^this^was^really^bad |
(Gender doesn't matter, pick n choose! :) ) | [WP] A Dragon in a nearby town has everything they ever wanted. Except romance. You are the object of their affections. | With a soft "thunk" my hoe dug into the dirt. Tilling the land ain't ever a fun job to do, but I enjoyed eating to much to not do it. 'Sides, Ma would tan my hide if I ever complained about any of the chores round the farm. Well, least the morning weather was nice and cool today.
Taking a deep breath, I lifted my hoe above my head and got ready for another swing when suddenly a huge shadow passed over me.
FWOOSH!
On instinct I dropped low and turned my head to the sky, just in time to see a golden scaled dragon pass by. Looks like it was settling down into the forest. Probably going hunting.
Letting out a frustrated sigh, I stood back up and got ready to swing again. Damned dragon had been causing everyone a scare since its been passing over our town more and more in the past few months. And I swear it's been eyein' me every time it flies over the farm.
'Course Ma didn't believe me when I told her that. Just cuffed me upside the head and told me to "Wake up and stop dreamin' ya little shit!"
Damn Ma, I ain't that lazy...
Resting my hoe against the shed, I picked up the bags of seed and started to spread them. Got no time for worrying about dragons now, chores to be doing and all that. After this I gotta make sure the animals are feed, then after that I gotta-
"Hello there!"
My body tensed. Turning quickly, I saw a young woman waving at me from outside the fence. What a pretty lady too. Long pink dress, pretty green eyes, and hair that looked to be made of pure gold in the sun's light. Damn was she gorgeous.
"Would you mind coming closer?" she said, fingers moving to push a few loose strands of hair behind her ear. "I wish to speak to you up close."
Would you mind? I wish to speak? Only nobles used that kind of flowery language. Definitely goes with her image.
But wait... What kinda noble is out this early in the morning? Sun barely up and grass still wet with dew? What exactly was going on here? Best if I just nod for now.
"Wonderful!" her hands clapped together as she smiled at me. Oh yeah, definitely noble. "There is a matter I was hoping to discuss with you!"
Walking up to her, I put my hand on the wooden fence between us. "Ya need to talk ta me? Bout what?"
"Well," she started, hands covering her mouth as if she were about to say something embarrassing, "do you remember feeding a creature as a child? One more... "reptilian" in nature?"
"Reptilian?" I asked, frowning. "That's like a lizard right? Cause if so then yeah, I remember. Big ol' yellow lizard out in the forest looked like it was starvin' to death. Fed it fer a few days till it got it's strength back. Why?"
Instead of answering my question, her hands moved to her cheeks, trying to hide her face going a light shade of pink.
"I see! So you do remember! That's wonderful!" she pretty much all but shouted, voice getting louder with each word. "Simply wonderful! After you had fed me, I had vowed to come back for you one day after I became stronger and take you as my lover!"
"Yer what?!" This time it was my turn to blush, though I had the benefit of dirt hiding mine. "What're you on about?"
"Ah! But first I must rearrange everything in my hoard! It would be most uncouth of me to show you such a dirty lair! I will be back soon, I promise!"
"Now wait just a damn sec-" but my words were cut off as a strong gust of wind passed right over me. Covering my eyes from this sudden gale, they couldn't help but widen in surprise once I saw what was in front of me.
The noble lady in front of me had spawned massive set wings in front me. As I stared at the familiar pair of golden wings, they lifted the woman up into the sky, before she finally turned into a dragon and flew off and over the forest.
Gaping up at the sky and staring over the trees where she had disappeared I slowly lifted my hands to my face and rubbed my eyes.
Ma was right, I gotta wake up and stop dreamin'.
| Obviously a dragon has no romantic partner, especially when he's the only dragon to exist that we know of. This dragon lives peacefully in Dawnton. The dragon is named Zer. Zer is a large man and he has piles upon piles of riches, but the only person he wants to share them with is me. Of course, me, because everything bad happens to me. I don't know why it is I, but it is. As of now I'm on my way to talk to Zer. I mean from what I've heard he's peaceful.
Ok, I've arrived at Zer's and his house is.. well beautiful wouldn't describe it. It is absolutely huge. Every door entrance has to be at least 30 metres tall. He seems nice enough. I mean he's very handsome, but I'm not sure how me, a human man, would be compatible with a fat man of a dragon. Zer is nice and he knows how to seduce a human. I mean he's been giving me all I want. I'm starting to love Zer, and I know he loves me back.
The^end^and^I^know^this^was^really^bad |
[WP] Your head is throbbing, ears are ringing, and everyone is shouting to you the same thing, "RUN!" | I groaned trying to lift my head up from my arms, as though I had just fallen asleep at my desk after a long night. I tried to focus my eyes. I had, in fact, been hunched over my steering wheel. Couldn't've been long; the car was still crackling. And that tinnitus...
There was a rapping on my window, followed by the door opening and someone unfastening my safety belt and dragging my body out in a swift motion that dazed me didn't think possible. I couldn't focus on a face, but I recognized the blue-and-silver racing tunic and bleached blonde hair.
"Claire, what happened?"
"The bottleneck."
A narrowing in the course, five hundred meters before the finish line. I looked around- at least a dozen cars had piled up at this point, almost as many drivers crawling out their windows or stumbling to their feet.
"You're okay?" I asked.
She shrugged. "Was dead last."
"You frickin' idiot..." I spat.
"We have to run." She started pulling on my arm.
We were the first two to escape the mass of cars on foot. The audience, lined on either side of the track around the finish, went mad. As that crescendo approached its peak, the crowd harmonized on a one simple cadence: Run!
Claire was far from athletic, but I was probably concussed, so I barely kept pace. If only she would fold at the last second and push me back. I was so close to grabbing her my the collar and pulling myself ahead. If only she would betray me first...
Run! the crowd chanted. Run! Run!
I looked back. A giant of a racer was gaining on the two of us like a demon.
Run! Run!
"C'mon," she said, reaching out for me but looking over my shoulder at the human mountain rolling our way. "Before she catches-"
I smacked her hand away. "I don't need the fame that bad," I huffed. My legs had nearly given up on me. "No shame in last place." I looked back; that demon was only five meters behind. With the last of my energy reserves, I skidded to slow down, then threw myself low into the giant's legs, downing us both.
| John was thrown forward from the sheer force of the explosion behind him. A ringing in his ears muffled the world around him, so loudly it almost erased the pain in his body from the fall. To his back, he could feel heat from fire he couldn’t see, smell things he didn’t want to imagine. He tried to turn to find the source of the destruction, but he couldn’t see through the bodies running from the wreckage.
All around him, the faces were identical. Although the ringing in his ears had only gotten louder, the message was clear: Run. Painted across the faces of everyone on the street; pain, fear, uncertainty. In the distance, alarms rang in the pauses between bouts of gunshots. Plumes of smoke hid the calamity behind him.
John struggled to push himself to his feet. His hands still raw, he barely got onto his feet, disoriented. Before he had a chance to run, another force fell over him. As blood dripped onto his body, he looked and locked eyes with a man, blood-stricken eyes full of terror.
Cutting through the noise and ringing, he yelled, “It’s them! They’re back!”
The second contact had begun.
| |
Like joining the Paris Agreement. (inspired by another thread) | [WP] A super villain who uses his schemes to force people or countries to do good things instead of demanding a ransom. | "Good evening, Mr. President, ladies and gentlemen! I trust you are finding the sustainably-farmed caviar I sent refreshing?"
"Reinhardt! How the devil did you hack this video feed?"
"It is of no consequence. What is, however, are my demands. Did the courier follow my instructions and use recycled paper for the list?"
"How the blue blazes would...oh, it's mentioned at the top here...yes, it's recycled. But Reinhardt, you must know that we cannot abide terrorist threats, regardless of how well intentioned they might be. The elimination of all fossil fuel usage within 6 months....that's just not possible!"
"Oh, I think you will find it is very possible. Particularly when I show you....THIS!"
*KABOOOM*
"Dear God, Reinhardt, what have you done?"
"Done, Mr. President? Why, I've simply dropped several metric tons of hydrogen-3 on the White House lawn!"
"NO! The people! Reinhardt you fiend!"
"Yes, that's right! There is enough hydrogen-3 in those canisters to power a hundred fusion reactors for the next century!"
"....wait, what? Canisters?"
"And, if you check your email, Mr. President, I believe you will find the plans for a 95% efficient fusion reactor very interesting indeed! It is of my own design, I'm quite proud of it. Easy to build, with no harmful waste or chance of meltdown. Why, you could build one right next to an...elementary school!"
"What...what do you mean by that?"
"Roosevelt Elementary School, in Fairfax, Virginia, to be precise. It seems that the office complex that was being built next door won't actually house insurance adjusters and tax attorneys after all! No, it will actually...POWER THE ENTIRE CITY OF WASHINGTON D.C.!"
"Wow...really?"
"With power to spare! D.C. will actually need to line up buyers for the excess. I have taken the liberty of beginning initial talks with the cities of Baltimore and Richmond."
"And...this reactor is safe?"
"COMPLETELY! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
"Um...OK, well...uh....I...I'm being told that we'll have to have your...uh, claims verified by independent review."
"Of course! The plans you have are fully detailed, and have been posted for peer review on a variety of physics and engineering websites. I will, of course, make myself available, should your people...HAVE ANY QUESTIONS!"
"Yeah, OK. I'm looking around the room and heads are nodding. We will look this over and...get back with you?"
"I LOOK FORWARD TO YOUR CALL! Oh, and one more thing, Mr. President...should you be thinking about not honoring our agreement..."
*KABOOOM*
"What did you do now?"
"Why, simply delivered plans and a supply of rare earth elements necessary to make...SOLID STATE GRAPHENE BATTERIES!"
"...Thank you?"
"YOU'RE WELCOME! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" | The building had four entrances, and each was heavily guarded by Captain Earth's minions. They were heavily armed and armored. The few glimpses anyone had of the guards at the doors were sparing, but showed men in tactical dress and armed with submachine guns and automatic rifles. The city's SWAT team had already attempted to force entry, and one of the entrances was littered with shell casings, blood, and several dead officers. As the hours passed, the situation was a stalemate.
And then Captain Earth turned on the cameras. The inside of the auditorium held almost 200 hostages on their knees, blindfolded, and arms tied behind them. Men in nomex masks walked around them armed with rifles and festooned with explosive vests.
Captain Earth stood framed in the center of the shot. "Welcome, ladies and gentlemen of the world. Today's science lesson is brought to you by Captain Earth. Let's hope you all learn something from our sacrifice."
He looked around at his audience of henchmen and hostages before he continued. "We won't have much time. As my intentions become known the police will force entry at any cost, so let us begin." He pulled a pistol from his hip and leveled it at the first hostage. "The state of the climate is of the utmost concern to us all, yet politicians continue to ignore the warnings. Warnings of impending disaster which will see the loss of many lives." He paused and looked directly into the camera. "Perhaps the loss of life is not apparent enough. Perhaps it needs to be brought to their attention."
He turned away from the camera, and looked down the barrel of his raised weapon. He fired into the head of one the kneeling hostages and the others began to scream. He continued down the line, executing one after the other. His men began to fire their automatic weapons into the helpless people with devastating effect. In the distance, the sound of gunfire renewed at the entrances as police began their desperate assault to reach the massacre. A low rumble sounded as a police armored vehicle breached a wall and officers stormed into the auditorium.
The shootout was intense, but brief. Captain Earth fell to the ground with several wounds as his men fired at the SWAT team before they too succumbed to the assault. As Captain Earth laid there listening to the screams from the wounded he began to laugh. "If we don't save the earth, then we will all die together." He pulled a cellphone from his pocket, and as the police moved toward him he pressed dial. The explosion engulfed the building in flames and heat. |
[WP] Write a story in which the main character is trying to hunt down and kill the author/narrator | (Before anyone legit worries about me, this is purely fiction off the top of my head lol)
I could only imagine my father, though not as he is: old and frail. Perhaps during his youth, when he would stagger to my room in the dead of night...
I could only imagine he wouldn't hold his liquor, then struggle for an hour with his favorite coat before losing the keys.
“Goddamnit,” he'd groan, “that little shit hid 'em! I know it!”
And of course, they’d have been in his pocket all along.
Hed probably hit a pedestrian on his drive up through the city, forget where he’s going and fire off a few shots in a field somewhere, ensuring he still remembered how to use his old army piece.
“You know what makes a man?” he used to ask while cleaning it, as well as his teeth with bourbon.
“I take what I deserve,” then he’d usually beckon me to his lap...
If he retained the conscious to find my apartment, Id leave it unlocked. Nevertheless, he'd fumble inside, tripping, in the dark, over a cluttered living room.
I may leave on a light in the revision.
Down the hall, he’d catch me typing this. As he made me, I would have, now, created him, but for my own purpose, however I might consider his vicariously the same.
Without the will to live, nor the gall to pull the trigger, I'd gladly take his barrel in my mouth. If I could write someone some to kill me, I could only imagine my father...
| So you think you can kill me? Ok I'll play your little game, so how are you going to go about doing this?
"I'll find where your hiding and... and I'll fucking kill you ok!"
And how do you know where I am all of a sudden Kevin? I never told you where I am, or who I am... or why I have chosen you.
"No matter where I was or what I was doing I could here you, your sadistic fucking voice always near but distant. Every morning and every night I can hear you!
That's a bit rude Kevin, you're not the best company yourself but I've made it work all these years.
"No one can make any sense of it, they think I'm crazy, they think it's all in my head but I know I can stop you, I know I can kill you."
Kevin for all you know I'm the real one. You're just a voice in my head.
"Shut up! Shut up! I have never had a clear head for 23 fucking years! I am going to put a bullet in you, you parasite."
Kevin, I'm a part of you. You can't kill me I control you.
"You can control me this is my head my brain!"
You see Kevin I live in that brain right alongside you. You can't kill me because I'm a part of you.
"Well things are about to change, I'm going to put a bullet in my skull and finally get some peace!"
After 23 years together you finally have a good idea... | |
[WP] You are an immortal who fell down a well 400 years ago. Until now, everyone just thought you were a magical well--until you managed to convince someone to help you back out. | Accidents happen to everybody. Some small like dropping your food or stubbing your toe. We curse such annoyances and move on. Bigger ones are more noticeable such as fire in the grain silo, or breaking a bone. These events can have a lasting impact on your health success and happiness. Over time your odds of some ill happening to you continue to rise until they are a certainty. Fortune is fickle after all.
When you live forever they are a seemingly constant hazard. Especially becoming trapped. Such as a glacial age avalanche and becoming frozen in place for a few decades. Waking up to Rome burning around you and having to wait for your burned and crushed form to heal enough to crawl out from under the rubble. Getting mistaken for a plague victim and entombed because its better than being burned at the stake by the local Bishop. All memorable close calls for me.
The worst though has definitely been this blasted well. Bad enough I fell in the befouled thing on a long trek through a remote area. Aggravatingly it was regarded as cursed and the useless locals all think I'm a spirit. For a while they covered the damn opening, and I hate the dark. Finally though someone different happened by... | Being in a fucking well for 400 years was EXTREMELY shitty. As in, I may have gone a little a bit crazy for a while. Started telling people to throw me coins so I could grant wishes and shit. No clue what I was thinking, but hey, I'm out of the well, I'm past that, it was a low point in my unusually long life. The first thing I did when I got out was learn how to speak this modern form of English, since the farmer who fund me thought I was an "illegal immigrant that I should teach to be American." What a weirdo. But he helped me, introduced me to modern technology and all that too. I still can't believe how few rights you have know, or that we allow women to vote. But hey, progress, I guess? You all seem happy about it. I've been acclimating, but it's a real culture shock, ya feel? Anyways, now that I'm back, and people no longer believe that I exist, I'm looking forward to wreaking some havoc. I'm still not sure what happened to the other gods. We lost a lot of power during the rise of Christianity, and maybe they all got caught during those World Wars that I somehow missed. SO UNFAIR. But I'll make up for it. Maybe influence a political election, maybe give Russia some ideas. Who knows? All I can tell you is that Ares, the God of War, is back, and better than ever. | |
[WP] You are an immortal who fell down a well 400 years ago. Until now, everyone just thought you were a magical well--until you managed to convince someone to help you back out. | She spat it all out, the liquid spraying across the well’s bricks and falling to the water down below. A coughing fit took hold of her, and she slammed a fist against her chest, trying to clear her lungs of the foul liquid.
“You WHAT?” she yelled down the well when she was finally able to. “You mean all these years I’ve been coming here, fetching water from this so called ‘magical well’ to bring me longevity, all I’ve really been doing is drinking your piss?”
He looked up at her as he sat on his usual perch, a natural hole scooped out of the side of the well that had been his makeshift home for the past four hundred years. His bare feet dangled below him, ankle deep in well water.
“I may be immortal,” he called up to her, his voice bouncing off the well’s walls. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t have to take a leak every now and then, my darling.”
He heard her groan in disgust. “I knew it tasted funny. I knew it!”
He couldn’t make out her face, only an outline - it has been this way for the twenty years she’d been visiting the well - but he knew she was angry. Usually he would have laughed at her reaction, like he had at his other infrequent visitors over the centuries, but he had recently decided that he was no longer living in a well. He was stuck in one. Had been since the beginning. He’d just been too proud to admit that he couldn’t get out of here alone.
“So what do you say, my lovely?” he asked in a nonchalant tone. “Do we have a deal?”
“A deal?” she shouted down. “You’ve been taking me for a fool all these years, and now that you’ve decided you need my help to get out of there you think I’m just going to agree?”
He bit back a smart ass remark, taking a deep breath and letting it out before replying, “It’s been working though, hasn’t it? I can assure you my piss is the most potent age elixir out there. You’ll find none better. I swear, women used to call my pecker the Fountain of Youth!”
A rock flew down, hitting the stone next to his head and causing a piece to chip off and hit him in the arm. He cursed.
“You scoundrel!” She screamed down at him. But he knew he was right, because even though he couldn’t make out her face he had noticed no change in her voice over the years. For the last two decades she had not been touched by age.
“I give you my word, fair maiden!” He tried again, struggling to keep the annoyance out of his voice. Or perhaps it was desperation. “If you help me out of here, I will give you enough of my urine to keep you looking young and healthy for well over a century.”
He waited for a response, but her silhouette had disappeared upon throwing that stone at him. He strained his ears for a sound, any indication that she was still there, but nothing came. Five minutes passed. Then an hour. It was beginning to get dark when he finally accepted the fact that he was probably going to be stuck here for another century or two. That young woman had been his only visitor in decades, and she was probably never going to return now that he had revealed himself..
He was beginning to doze off, cramped uncomfortably in his hole, when the sound of something splashing into the water woke him from his sleep. He glanced into the darkness, his eyes just barely able to make out a thick rope dangling in the moonlight. Poking his head out from his hole and glancing up, he saw no one, but wasted no time in grabbing hold of the strong rope and pulling himself up.
It took him some time to reach the top, but then he finally pulled himself over the lip of the well and collapsed into a heap on the grass below. “Oh, thank the heavens,” he called out, his words laced with both merriment and relief as he rolled onto his back and stared up at the night sky. The grass beneath his body felt good against his skin, the sky appearing vast and endless above him. He couldn’t believe he had finally escaped his prison.
“The heavens?” He recognized the voice and immediately sat up, noticing the woman standing to his right. “You should be thanking me, not them.”
He couldn’t help but grin even though faced with the woman’s snarkiness again. “I knew you’d come back,” he lied.
She scoffed as she crossed her arms in front of her chest, raising a pointed chin and staring down a pretty nose at him. “So you are the immortal with the magic piss then?” she asked, raising a dark eyebrow at him. “You’re not exactly what I was expecting.”
He got to his feet, standing at least a foot taller than her once he straightened his back. Looking down at himself, at his tattered pants and bare chest, he wondered what he must look like after four hundred years spent in a well. “What exactly were you expecting?” he asked her, genuinely curious.
She didn’t answer, only giving him a good, long once-over with her eyes. When she finally focused on his face again, he realized she wasn’t exactly displeased. “So, the Fountain of Youth, aye?”
He stood there for a moment, recalling their deal, and then smirked. “Aye, darling. There used to be legends told about it.”
She let out a sigh as she rolled her eyes. “Oh, I am already regretting this decision,” she mumbled to herself as she turned around. “Come on, then. I suppose you haven’t eaten in awhile.”
He followed her into the woods, towards the smell of rabbit stew and the promise of a warm fire to sit by. “Did it really taste that bad?” he asked her as the light of their lantern faded between trees.
“I don’t ever want to talk about that again,” she groaned. “Just be glad I didn’t leave you there, immortal.”
And he was glad, because four hundred years was a long time to spend alone, even for an immortal.
| Being in a fucking well for 400 years was EXTREMELY shitty. As in, I may have gone a little a bit crazy for a while. Started telling people to throw me coins so I could grant wishes and shit. No clue what I was thinking, but hey, I'm out of the well, I'm past that, it was a low point in my unusually long life. The first thing I did when I got out was learn how to speak this modern form of English, since the farmer who fund me thought I was an "illegal immigrant that I should teach to be American." What a weirdo. But he helped me, introduced me to modern technology and all that too. I still can't believe how few rights you have know, or that we allow women to vote. But hey, progress, I guess? You all seem happy about it. I've been acclimating, but it's a real culture shock, ya feel? Anyways, now that I'm back, and people no longer believe that I exist, I'm looking forward to wreaking some havoc. I'm still not sure what happened to the other gods. We lost a lot of power during the rise of Christianity, and maybe they all got caught during those World Wars that I somehow missed. SO UNFAIR. But I'll make up for it. Maybe influence a political election, maybe give Russia some ideas. Who knows? All I can tell you is that Ares, the God of War, is back, and better than ever. | |
[WP] You are an immortal who fell down a well 400 years ago. Until now, everyone just thought you were a magical well--until you managed to convince someone to help you back out. | Sahir was wet.
His first thought was that he’d soiled his breeches. The wine was pungent and strong. It tasted of sour grapes and oak wood, and put two men to sleep before the party began. It wasn’t the first time he’d drunkenly pissed his pants, and he doubted it would be his last.
Then he looked. He was in a well, smaller than his home but larger than the average. It was dark and smelled of rot. Algae laced its walls, lined with mold, trailed by growth. A smell of urine reached his nose and Sahir thought it to be his. “Where am I?” He said aloud. The well offered no response and echoed instead. A trickle of water dripped down the stones and annoyed him to no end.
In the well it was neither night nor day. Sahir tracked the passage of time by bucket. Some days it would descend and Sahir would grab on. Each time it broke, and he was left with splinters for reward. At times it would cease and Sahir would sleep, only to be roused by the bucket’s splash.
Sahir took to calling for help. His own voice bounced off the stone and pounded against his ears with the force of a thousand drums. “It’s haunted,” the townspeople said. “People drink from that well and die. We must close it off.”
The well was blocked off with wood slats and plastered mud. Little light shined through and waters became shrouded in shadow. Sahir grew pale without the sun. Though he knew it not, his skin lost its color and shriveled from years of submersion.
Sahir drank blood to quench his thirst. He pulled fungus from their perches, seeking to stave off his pangs of hunger. Once, he had been a traveled merchant. He’d gorged on cheese and wine, bathed in mounds of coin. *Is my life come to this?* Sometimes death seemed preferable to him. But Sahir was too much a coward to take his own life. He often thought of scaling the well, but found no handholds on the stone. Algae growth had made them slick and damp.
“Help,” Sahir told the stone. The stone, as usual, said naught in return.
“I’ll get you out!” A voice rang through the well and Sahir sighed. *I’ve lost my mind,* he thought. But he grinned; the stone had spoken.
Wood scraped and debris fell, splashing against the water like fish in a pond. Sahir covered his head and ducked; he thought it an earthquake. But the voice called out again, fainter this time. “Hey,” it said. “I think I heard someone.”
Another, gruffer voice responded. “Well get the rope then. Maybe someone fell down the well.”
A rope fell and Sahir gripped it, clutching so his knuckles further whitened. He climbed with inhuman speed; his kicks knocked stone to the murky waters below. Dust fell with his ascent, and worn bricks crumbled as he climbed.
Sahir burst from the well beneath a starry sky. *Freedom! At last!* He felt the wind rush through his long, unkempt hair. It stirred his blood, and he felt the pangs of hunger once more. *Food,* he thought. *I need it.* A breeze pressed against his skin and he felt water drip from his flesh. A puddle formed at his feet and he stared. He had become gaunt in isolation; his cheekbones jutted and his jawline squared. His muscles rippled beneath a thin layer of flesh and seemed larger, more defined. Sahir admired them in his reflection and smiled at the bumps along his stomach.
“Hey,” said a girl. Sahir looked over, noticing for the first time two humans standing nearby. “You ok?” The girl asked, then offered a towel.
The towel was unlike any other cloth Sahir had felt. It was smooth against his skin, and wiped away the water.
“I’m Skye,” the girl said. The man next to her frowned; his graying beard twitched in displeasure, but he forced a grin. It came out more of a grimace.
“Bryson.” The man extended a hand and Sahir backed away. “Bryson” was intimidating. He was fat and reeked of tobacco. Sahir thought of a bear.
Sahir shook the proffered hand then glanced to his left. A structure of metal ground against the dirt and shifted. Men in yellow hats ran beneath it with shovels and shouted in some foreign tongue. They took little notice of Skye and Bryson, who stood away from them by the half - ruined well.
Hunger wracked Sahir and he bent, clutching his belly. He groaned and and coughed, spitting blood to the ground. Bryson backed away but Skye crept closer. She placed a hand on his back and Sahir felt her pulse beat against his pale flesh.
“Are you alright?” She said.
Sahir felt the warmth and lunged. His teeth punctured skin and he drank.
***
/r/Lone_Wolf_Studios
| Being in a fucking well for 400 years was EXTREMELY shitty. As in, I may have gone a little a bit crazy for a while. Started telling people to throw me coins so I could grant wishes and shit. No clue what I was thinking, but hey, I'm out of the well, I'm past that, it was a low point in my unusually long life. The first thing I did when I got out was learn how to speak this modern form of English, since the farmer who fund me thought I was an "illegal immigrant that I should teach to be American." What a weirdo. But he helped me, introduced me to modern technology and all that too. I still can't believe how few rights you have know, or that we allow women to vote. But hey, progress, I guess? You all seem happy about it. I've been acclimating, but it's a real culture shock, ya feel? Anyways, now that I'm back, and people no longer believe that I exist, I'm looking forward to wreaking some havoc. I'm still not sure what happened to the other gods. We lost a lot of power during the rise of Christianity, and maybe they all got caught during those World Wars that I somehow missed. SO UNFAIR. But I'll make up for it. Maybe influence a political election, maybe give Russia some ideas. Who knows? All I can tell you is that Ares, the God of War, is back, and better than ever. | |
[WP] You are an immortal who fell down a well 400 years ago. Until now, everyone just thought you were a magical well--until you managed to convince someone to help you back out. | She spat it all out, the liquid spraying across the well’s bricks and falling to the water down below. A coughing fit took hold of her, and she slammed a fist against her chest, trying to clear her lungs of the foul liquid.
“You WHAT?” she yelled down the well when she was finally able to. “You mean all these years I’ve been coming here, fetching water from this so called ‘magical well’ to bring me longevity, all I’ve really been doing is drinking your piss?”
He looked up at her as he sat on his usual perch, a natural hole scooped out of the side of the well that had been his makeshift home for the past four hundred years. His bare feet dangled below him, ankle deep in well water.
“I may be immortal,” he called up to her, his voice bouncing off the well’s walls. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t have to take a leak every now and then, my darling.”
He heard her groan in disgust. “I knew it tasted funny. I knew it!”
He couldn’t make out her face, only an outline - it has been this way for the twenty years she’d been visiting the well - but he knew she was angry. Usually he would have laughed at her reaction, like he had at his other infrequent visitors over the centuries, but he had recently decided that he was no longer living in a well. He was stuck in one. Had been since the beginning. He’d just been too proud to admit that he couldn’t get out of here alone.
“So what do you say, my lovely?” he asked in a nonchalant tone. “Do we have a deal?”
“A deal?” she shouted down. “You’ve been taking me for a fool all these years, and now that you’ve decided you need my help to get out of there you think I’m just going to agree?”
He bit back a smart ass remark, taking a deep breath and letting it out before replying, “It’s been working though, hasn’t it? I can assure you my piss is the most potent age elixir out there. You’ll find none better. I swear, women used to call my pecker the Fountain of Youth!”
A rock flew down, hitting the stone next to his head and causing a piece to chip off and hit him in the arm. He cursed.
“You scoundrel!” She screamed down at him. But he knew he was right, because even though he couldn’t make out her face he had noticed no change in her voice over the years. For the last two decades she had not been touched by age.
“I give you my word, fair maiden!” He tried again, struggling to keep the annoyance out of his voice. Or perhaps it was desperation. “If you help me out of here, I will give you enough of my urine to keep you looking young and healthy for well over a century.”
He waited for a response, but her silhouette had disappeared upon throwing that stone at him. He strained his ears for a sound, any indication that she was still there, but nothing came. Five minutes passed. Then an hour. It was beginning to get dark when he finally accepted the fact that he was probably going to be stuck here for another century or two. That young woman had been his only visitor in decades, and she was probably never going to return now that he had revealed himself..
He was beginning to doze off, cramped uncomfortably in his hole, when the sound of something splashing into the water woke him from his sleep. He glanced into the darkness, his eyes just barely able to make out a thick rope dangling in the moonlight. Poking his head out from his hole and glancing up, he saw no one, but wasted no time in grabbing hold of the strong rope and pulling himself up.
It took him some time to reach the top, but then he finally pulled himself over the lip of the well and collapsed into a heap on the grass below. “Oh, thank the heavens,” he called out, his words laced with both merriment and relief as he rolled onto his back and stared up at the night sky. The grass beneath his body felt good against his skin, the sky appearing vast and endless above him. He couldn’t believe he had finally escaped his prison.
“The heavens?” He recognized the voice and immediately sat up, noticing the woman standing to his right. “You should be thanking me, not them.”
He couldn’t help but grin even though faced with the woman’s snarkiness again. “I knew you’d come back,” he lied.
She scoffed as she crossed her arms in front of her chest, raising a pointed chin and staring down a pretty nose at him. “So you are the immortal with the magic piss then?” she asked, raising a dark eyebrow at him. “You’re not exactly what I was expecting.”
He got to his feet, standing at least a foot taller than her once he straightened his back. Looking down at himself, at his tattered pants and bare chest, he wondered what he must look like after four hundred years spent in a well. “What exactly were you expecting?” he asked her, genuinely curious.
She didn’t answer, only giving him a good, long once-over with her eyes. When she finally focused on his face again, he realized she wasn’t exactly displeased. “So, the Fountain of Youth, aye?”
He stood there for a moment, recalling their deal, and then smirked. “Aye, darling. There used to be legends told about it.”
She let out a sigh as she rolled her eyes. “Oh, I am already regretting this decision,” she mumbled to herself as she turned around. “Come on, then. I suppose you haven’t eaten in awhile.”
He followed her into the woods, towards the smell of rabbit stew and the promise of a warm fire to sit by. “Did it really taste that bad?” he asked her as the light of their lantern faded between trees.
“I don’t ever want to talk about that again,” she groaned. “Just be glad I didn’t leave you there, immortal.”
And he was glad, because four hundred years was a long time to spend alone, even for an immortal.
| Accidents happen to everybody. Some small like dropping your food or stubbing your toe. We curse such annoyances and move on. Bigger ones are more noticeable such as fire in the grain silo, or breaking a bone. These events can have a lasting impact on your health success and happiness. Over time your odds of some ill happening to you continue to rise until they are a certainty. Fortune is fickle after all.
When you live forever they are a seemingly constant hazard. Especially becoming trapped. Such as a glacial age avalanche and becoming frozen in place for a few decades. Waking up to Rome burning around you and having to wait for your burned and crushed form to heal enough to crawl out from under the rubble. Getting mistaken for a plague victim and entombed because its better than being burned at the stake by the local Bishop. All memorable close calls for me.
The worst though has definitely been this blasted well. Bad enough I fell in the befouled thing on a long trek through a remote area. Aggravatingly it was regarded as cursed and the useless locals all think I'm a spirit. For a while they covered the damn opening, and I hate the dark. Finally though someone different happened by... | |
[WP] You are an immortal who fell down a well 400 years ago. Until now, everyone just thought you were a magical well--until you managed to convince someone to help you back out. | Sahir was wet.
His first thought was that he’d soiled his breeches. The wine was pungent and strong. It tasted of sour grapes and oak wood, and put two men to sleep before the party began. It wasn’t the first time he’d drunkenly pissed his pants, and he doubted it would be his last.
Then he looked. He was in a well, smaller than his home but larger than the average. It was dark and smelled of rot. Algae laced its walls, lined with mold, trailed by growth. A smell of urine reached his nose and Sahir thought it to be his. “Where am I?” He said aloud. The well offered no response and echoed instead. A trickle of water dripped down the stones and annoyed him to no end.
In the well it was neither night nor day. Sahir tracked the passage of time by bucket. Some days it would descend and Sahir would grab on. Each time it broke, and he was left with splinters for reward. At times it would cease and Sahir would sleep, only to be roused by the bucket’s splash.
Sahir took to calling for help. His own voice bounced off the stone and pounded against his ears with the force of a thousand drums. “It’s haunted,” the townspeople said. “People drink from that well and die. We must close it off.”
The well was blocked off with wood slats and plastered mud. Little light shined through and waters became shrouded in shadow. Sahir grew pale without the sun. Though he knew it not, his skin lost its color and shriveled from years of submersion.
Sahir drank blood to quench his thirst. He pulled fungus from their perches, seeking to stave off his pangs of hunger. Once, he had been a traveled merchant. He’d gorged on cheese and wine, bathed in mounds of coin. *Is my life come to this?* Sometimes death seemed preferable to him. But Sahir was too much a coward to take his own life. He often thought of scaling the well, but found no handholds on the stone. Algae growth had made them slick and damp.
“Help,” Sahir told the stone. The stone, as usual, said naught in return.
“I’ll get you out!” A voice rang through the well and Sahir sighed. *I’ve lost my mind,* he thought. But he grinned; the stone had spoken.
Wood scraped and debris fell, splashing against the water like fish in a pond. Sahir covered his head and ducked; he thought it an earthquake. But the voice called out again, fainter this time. “Hey,” it said. “I think I heard someone.”
Another, gruffer voice responded. “Well get the rope then. Maybe someone fell down the well.”
A rope fell and Sahir gripped it, clutching so his knuckles further whitened. He climbed with inhuman speed; his kicks knocked stone to the murky waters below. Dust fell with his ascent, and worn bricks crumbled as he climbed.
Sahir burst from the well beneath a starry sky. *Freedom! At last!* He felt the wind rush through his long, unkempt hair. It stirred his blood, and he felt the pangs of hunger once more. *Food,* he thought. *I need it.* A breeze pressed against his skin and he felt water drip from his flesh. A puddle formed at his feet and he stared. He had become gaunt in isolation; his cheekbones jutted and his jawline squared. His muscles rippled beneath a thin layer of flesh and seemed larger, more defined. Sahir admired them in his reflection and smiled at the bumps along his stomach.
“Hey,” said a girl. Sahir looked over, noticing for the first time two humans standing nearby. “You ok?” The girl asked, then offered a towel.
The towel was unlike any other cloth Sahir had felt. It was smooth against his skin, and wiped away the water.
“I’m Skye,” the girl said. The man next to her frowned; his graying beard twitched in displeasure, but he forced a grin. It came out more of a grimace.
“Bryson.” The man extended a hand and Sahir backed away. “Bryson” was intimidating. He was fat and reeked of tobacco. Sahir thought of a bear.
Sahir shook the proffered hand then glanced to his left. A structure of metal ground against the dirt and shifted. Men in yellow hats ran beneath it with shovels and shouted in some foreign tongue. They took little notice of Skye and Bryson, who stood away from them by the half - ruined well.
Hunger wracked Sahir and he bent, clutching his belly. He groaned and and coughed, spitting blood to the ground. Bryson backed away but Skye crept closer. She placed a hand on his back and Sahir felt her pulse beat against his pale flesh.
“Are you alright?” She said.
Sahir felt the warmth and lunged. His teeth punctured skin and he drank.
***
/r/Lone_Wolf_Studios
| Accidents happen to everybody. Some small like dropping your food or stubbing your toe. We curse such annoyances and move on. Bigger ones are more noticeable such as fire in the grain silo, or breaking a bone. These events can have a lasting impact on your health success and happiness. Over time your odds of some ill happening to you continue to rise until they are a certainty. Fortune is fickle after all.
When you live forever they are a seemingly constant hazard. Especially becoming trapped. Such as a glacial age avalanche and becoming frozen in place for a few decades. Waking up to Rome burning around you and having to wait for your burned and crushed form to heal enough to crawl out from under the rubble. Getting mistaken for a plague victim and entombed because its better than being burned at the stake by the local Bishop. All memorable close calls for me.
The worst though has definitely been this blasted well. Bad enough I fell in the befouled thing on a long trek through a remote area. Aggravatingly it was regarded as cursed and the useless locals all think I'm a spirit. For a while they covered the damn opening, and I hate the dark. Finally though someone different happened by... | |
[WP] You are an immortal who fell down a well 400 years ago. Until now, everyone just thought you were a magical well--until you managed to convince someone to help you back out. | Sahir was wet.
His first thought was that he’d soiled his breeches. The wine was pungent and strong. It tasted of sour grapes and oak wood, and put two men to sleep before the party began. It wasn’t the first time he’d drunkenly pissed his pants, and he doubted it would be his last.
Then he looked. He was in a well, smaller than his home but larger than the average. It was dark and smelled of rot. Algae laced its walls, lined with mold, trailed by growth. A smell of urine reached his nose and Sahir thought it to be his. “Where am I?” He said aloud. The well offered no response and echoed instead. A trickle of water dripped down the stones and annoyed him to no end.
In the well it was neither night nor day. Sahir tracked the passage of time by bucket. Some days it would descend and Sahir would grab on. Each time it broke, and he was left with splinters for reward. At times it would cease and Sahir would sleep, only to be roused by the bucket’s splash.
Sahir took to calling for help. His own voice bounced off the stone and pounded against his ears with the force of a thousand drums. “It’s haunted,” the townspeople said. “People drink from that well and die. We must close it off.”
The well was blocked off with wood slats and plastered mud. Little light shined through and waters became shrouded in shadow. Sahir grew pale without the sun. Though he knew it not, his skin lost its color and shriveled from years of submersion.
Sahir drank blood to quench his thirst. He pulled fungus from their perches, seeking to stave off his pangs of hunger. Once, he had been a traveled merchant. He’d gorged on cheese and wine, bathed in mounds of coin. *Is my life come to this?* Sometimes death seemed preferable to him. But Sahir was too much a coward to take his own life. He often thought of scaling the well, but found no handholds on the stone. Algae growth had made them slick and damp.
“Help,” Sahir told the stone. The stone, as usual, said naught in return.
“I’ll get you out!” A voice rang through the well and Sahir sighed. *I’ve lost my mind,* he thought. But he grinned; the stone had spoken.
Wood scraped and debris fell, splashing against the water like fish in a pond. Sahir covered his head and ducked; he thought it an earthquake. But the voice called out again, fainter this time. “Hey,” it said. “I think I heard someone.”
Another, gruffer voice responded. “Well get the rope then. Maybe someone fell down the well.”
A rope fell and Sahir gripped it, clutching so his knuckles further whitened. He climbed with inhuman speed; his kicks knocked stone to the murky waters below. Dust fell with his ascent, and worn bricks crumbled as he climbed.
Sahir burst from the well beneath a starry sky. *Freedom! At last!* He felt the wind rush through his long, unkempt hair. It stirred his blood, and he felt the pangs of hunger once more. *Food,* he thought. *I need it.* A breeze pressed against his skin and he felt water drip from his flesh. A puddle formed at his feet and he stared. He had become gaunt in isolation; his cheekbones jutted and his jawline squared. His muscles rippled beneath a thin layer of flesh and seemed larger, more defined. Sahir admired them in his reflection and smiled at the bumps along his stomach.
“Hey,” said a girl. Sahir looked over, noticing for the first time two humans standing nearby. “You ok?” The girl asked, then offered a towel.
The towel was unlike any other cloth Sahir had felt. It was smooth against his skin, and wiped away the water.
“I’m Skye,” the girl said. The man next to her frowned; his graying beard twitched in displeasure, but he forced a grin. It came out more of a grimace.
“Bryson.” The man extended a hand and Sahir backed away. “Bryson” was intimidating. He was fat and reeked of tobacco. Sahir thought of a bear.
Sahir shook the proffered hand then glanced to his left. A structure of metal ground against the dirt and shifted. Men in yellow hats ran beneath it with shovels and shouted in some foreign tongue. They took little notice of Skye and Bryson, who stood away from them by the half - ruined well.
Hunger wracked Sahir and he bent, clutching his belly. He groaned and and coughed, spitting blood to the ground. Bryson backed away but Skye crept closer. She placed a hand on his back and Sahir felt her pulse beat against his pale flesh.
“Are you alright?” She said.
Sahir felt the warmth and lunged. His teeth punctured skin and he drank.
***
/r/Lone_Wolf_Studios
| She spat it all out, the liquid spraying across the well’s bricks and falling to the water down below. A coughing fit took hold of her, and she slammed a fist against her chest, trying to clear her lungs of the foul liquid.
“You WHAT?” she yelled down the well when she was finally able to. “You mean all these years I’ve been coming here, fetching water from this so called ‘magical well’ to bring me longevity, all I’ve really been doing is drinking your piss?”
He looked up at her as he sat on his usual perch, a natural hole scooped out of the side of the well that had been his makeshift home for the past four hundred years. His bare feet dangled below him, ankle deep in well water.
“I may be immortal,” he called up to her, his voice bouncing off the well’s walls. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t have to take a leak every now and then, my darling.”
He heard her groan in disgust. “I knew it tasted funny. I knew it!”
He couldn’t make out her face, only an outline - it has been this way for the twenty years she’d been visiting the well - but he knew she was angry. Usually he would have laughed at her reaction, like he had at his other infrequent visitors over the centuries, but he had recently decided that he was no longer living in a well. He was stuck in one. Had been since the beginning. He’d just been too proud to admit that he couldn’t get out of here alone.
“So what do you say, my lovely?” he asked in a nonchalant tone. “Do we have a deal?”
“A deal?” she shouted down. “You’ve been taking me for a fool all these years, and now that you’ve decided you need my help to get out of there you think I’m just going to agree?”
He bit back a smart ass remark, taking a deep breath and letting it out before replying, “It’s been working though, hasn’t it? I can assure you my piss is the most potent age elixir out there. You’ll find none better. I swear, women used to call my pecker the Fountain of Youth!”
A rock flew down, hitting the stone next to his head and causing a piece to chip off and hit him in the arm. He cursed.
“You scoundrel!” She screamed down at him. But he knew he was right, because even though he couldn’t make out her face he had noticed no change in her voice over the years. For the last two decades she had not been touched by age.
“I give you my word, fair maiden!” He tried again, struggling to keep the annoyance out of his voice. Or perhaps it was desperation. “If you help me out of here, I will give you enough of my urine to keep you looking young and healthy for well over a century.”
He waited for a response, but her silhouette had disappeared upon throwing that stone at him. He strained his ears for a sound, any indication that she was still there, but nothing came. Five minutes passed. Then an hour. It was beginning to get dark when he finally accepted the fact that he was probably going to be stuck here for another century or two. That young woman had been his only visitor in decades, and she was probably never going to return now that he had revealed himself..
He was beginning to doze off, cramped uncomfortably in his hole, when the sound of something splashing into the water woke him from his sleep. He glanced into the darkness, his eyes just barely able to make out a thick rope dangling in the moonlight. Poking his head out from his hole and glancing up, he saw no one, but wasted no time in grabbing hold of the strong rope and pulling himself up.
It took him some time to reach the top, but then he finally pulled himself over the lip of the well and collapsed into a heap on the grass below. “Oh, thank the heavens,” he called out, his words laced with both merriment and relief as he rolled onto his back and stared up at the night sky. The grass beneath his body felt good against his skin, the sky appearing vast and endless above him. He couldn’t believe he had finally escaped his prison.
“The heavens?” He recognized the voice and immediately sat up, noticing the woman standing to his right. “You should be thanking me, not them.”
He couldn’t help but grin even though faced with the woman’s snarkiness again. “I knew you’d come back,” he lied.
She scoffed as she crossed her arms in front of her chest, raising a pointed chin and staring down a pretty nose at him. “So you are the immortal with the magic piss then?” she asked, raising a dark eyebrow at him. “You’re not exactly what I was expecting.”
He got to his feet, standing at least a foot taller than her once he straightened his back. Looking down at himself, at his tattered pants and bare chest, he wondered what he must look like after four hundred years spent in a well. “What exactly were you expecting?” he asked her, genuinely curious.
She didn’t answer, only giving him a good, long once-over with her eyes. When she finally focused on his face again, he realized she wasn’t exactly displeased. “So, the Fountain of Youth, aye?”
He stood there for a moment, recalling their deal, and then smirked. “Aye, darling. There used to be legends told about it.”
She let out a sigh as she rolled her eyes. “Oh, I am already regretting this decision,” she mumbled to herself as she turned around. “Come on, then. I suppose you haven’t eaten in awhile.”
He followed her into the woods, towards the smell of rabbit stew and the promise of a warm fire to sit by. “Did it really taste that bad?” he asked her as the light of their lantern faded between trees.
“I don’t ever want to talk about that again,” she groaned. “Just be glad I didn’t leave you there, immortal.”
And he was glad, because four hundred years was a long time to spend alone, even for an immortal.
| |
[WP] The ancient prophets foresaw the great Evil but also the Hero who would rise up against it. To keep the real one a secret, they also made up a ridiculous joke-prophecy. You happen to fit that prank divination perfectly. | (1/2)
"Breath and wind will see their end as darkness rises once again,
A hero will come with an eye of white, to see once more the heavens light,
And he will come with an eye of black, to seal the shadows behind his back.
Rise O Hero, born of fire and rain,
Rise and give voice to those who were slain.
Dive deep, O Hero, to the depths of hell,
Cease the Earths tremors and see the oceans quell.
Clash will the hero of legend and the evils of old,
Until breath turns to wind and blood runs cold."
Many before had been born with Heterochromia iridium, but it was only Matthias who'd been born with a left eye as grey as a stormy sky and a right eye as black as ink. People had whispered all his life, hiding him and telling him to keep his head down as the Kings Men passed through everyday, collecting taxes they claimed. It seemed more and more that they were simply taking part in sanctioned pillaging.
It was his birth that had led people to believe that he was the fabled hero of legend. Born in a small hut at the edge of the village, which was set ablaze by the Kings men when his father refused to pay that days taxes. It had burned to ashes just as it had begun to rain, but not before his mother had managed to get him out before dying herself. Covered in blood and with the chord that had connected him and his mother in the womb still in tact and wet, many could only assume he'd just been born. His entire family had died in that fire, a family he never knew...
He was the Hero, with eyes of white and black, born of fire and rain.
He was passed around, moving often as the populace hid him from the King, who sought the hero prophesied to bring about his end. Every village gave him everything he needed, swords and shields and money, as well as training.
In the mountain valley village of Talas, he met his teacher at the age of 13. A swordsman named Ignus, formerly a Guard of the King, who'd retired and repented his ways upon falling in love with a woman from Talas.
He had five young daughters, each more beautiful than the last, and the very last one, the youngest of all, was as radiant as the sun, with a smile as white as pearls.
Each man of Talas vied for their attention, mining up precious stones from their mountains and paying for jewelry to heighten their immense loveliness.
Matthias was different however.
He was the bloody Hero!! All woman from all ages flocked to him!! He was a swordsman in training under Ignus, and living with all five for the duration of his training. Each and every one had promised to marry him, he just had to choose which one.
It was the last of the sisters who he eventually did choose. Closest in age to him, and by far the fairest of all five, Amalie had been watching him all throughout his training with a few of her handmaids. (Not litterally. Amalie wasn't actual royalty, but she would be when Matthias had vanquished the king himself) Risking sun burn to her beautiful and fair skin every day to sit by as her father instructed him on how to parry and block and strike.
She was even there with him when Ignus told him of a sword and shield, ancient and beautiful, named the Witches Kiss and the Angels Embrace.
The sword Witches Kiss was found in the labyrinthine maze of mining tunnels far bellow the earth, tunnels made by people a Millenia ago, whose chambers had filled with flammable gas so no light could be taken with, and who nobody had ever been able to navigate. Anyone who managed to come back, came back void and empty and terrified, never again returning to sanity.
Angels Embrace was a shield, found on top of the tallest mountain that surrounded Talus, The Mountain Farrah. Unlike the mines, nobody returned, and many supposed that the bodies of those who attempted to find Angels Embrace were still up there, frozen to their cores.
The day he went bellow to find Witches Kiss, he received another kind of Kiss, Amalie's. Just as he was about to step into the inky black darkness, she pulled him close, holding his lips to hers, and gave him a a lantern filled with fireflies, and a length of twine. "I will stay here and wait for your return." She promised, holding the large spool of twine. "I will wait."
The journey had been long and treacherous, even with his years of training. Finding the Witches Kiss through mole monsters, goblins and a thousand little bat-like creatures with little to no room to swing a sword...he was half dead by the time he found it.
In a chamber lit by glowing stones, in a pedestal of diamond, was the Witches Kiss. It was almost translucent, as if it were made of ice, but it was insanely sharp. Yes, a kiss from this blade would be as wicked as any witch.
He made it back, and once again took Amalie's kiss as reward.
Angels Embrace was next.
It was not monsters that impeded his way this time, but the terrain. Had given him a night to remember the warmth of a woman before he left, and made him promise to return to make an honest woman out of her.
Up there in the freezing altitude of the ice and snow, he nearly forgot heat entirely. It was only Amalie that could remind him of warmth and love.
He returned, missing fingers from frostbite, but with Angels Embrace to conpensate.
He was ready.
Before Matthias left Talus to journey elsewhere, to find a horse strong enough to make the journey, as well as other companions to take with him to the castle, he married Amalie. Hopefully, if and when he returned, there would be a son waiting for him.
Halfway down the road, however, someone had come running. "Wait, please!!" A woman's shout was heard. One of Amalie's hand maids, a pretty girl with long hair as russet as a dogs, not quite red and not quite brown, and and freckled skin. "Please," she begged, breathless. "Take me too. I want to see the world beyond Talas, I beg of you!"
He breathed out, slightly amused by her. "It's dangerous out there." He warned.
"I know."
"There's no hotspring baths out there."
"I know."
"No hair brushes or soft beds or anything."
"Will you just take me?!"
"Fine, fine. But I'm not protecting you, so here." He said, tossing her his old sword that had been replaced. It was his first sword the one he had when he first came to Talas as a child, a dented, chipped iron stick. He had no spare shield to give her.
She took it, swallowing tightly and nodding, shouldering the blade. "Thank you." | It happened not with a bang, but with a scream. It was a one-of-a-kind fuckup, the best and worse thing ever to happen to me.
One day while strolling down the sidewalk, listening to some really bad pop music blasting through my headphones, I tripped. Not only did I trip, the phone in my hand went flying, and fly so gracefully it did until it connected with the top of one speeding car, and bounced. It bounced over not just one, nor two, but the tops of three more moving vehicles, until it had crossed the entirety of the street, arcing end over end into the air, whereupon it fell into a bowl of ice cream that an autistic child was eating, and the music had somehow looped into a phrase loosely interpreted as, "million reasons".
The whole street, minus speeding vehicles, came to a halt as I picked myself up, nursing a scraped elbow. Folks on the other side of the street craned their heads, pulling out camera phones to take my picture. I looked left and right, hoping that at least nobody on this side of the street had seen events transpire and I could slink off as if nothing had happened. It took only that glance before three people threw themselves prostrate before me, chanting "Graceful Failure! Save us all!"
My face-palm only seemed to confirm my new identity as the Graceful Failure. | |
[WP] The ancient prophets foresaw the great Evil but also the Hero who would rise up against it. To keep the real one a secret, they also made up a ridiculous joke-prophecy. You happen to fit that prank divination perfectly. | A faint dim light inside a tiny hut lit the faces of the three ancients, Vilivus, Durilama and Jaralaia. They were writting the prophecy that foresaw the unimaginable fight between the great Evil and the Hero. Vilivus and Durilama narrated the side of the Hero and the great Evil respectively as they saw it in their minds while Jaralaia, the greatest writer of all time wrote it to perfection on a papyrus.
"Gentleman, I think it's safe to open a good bottle of whisky now that the prophecy is written." Said Vilivus the Old.
Everyone smiled and screamed frantically, they might have been ancient and wise yet they also knew how to have fun.
Two bottles of whiskey later:
"Listen to me Old bastards, why don't we cover the Hero with a fake one, smart huh?" Said Jaralaia, the Wise.
"Great idea, he has to have a profession opposite to something heroic." Replied Durilama, the Kind.
"Let's make him a Business Administration student who also likes to write." Said Vilivus.
The three of them laughed like if they heard the best joke in the world.
"Make him write on the internet." Yelled Durilama while laughing histerically.
"Make him write a story about us writing a story about him being a fake prophecy, he will be so confused." Added Vilivus with tears of joy falling down his cheeks all the way to his smile.
The whiskey propelled out of their mouths into each other faces. Soundless laughter followed.
Wait... | Each day was the same for Remy Stephenson. Middle class house, middle class car, and hours monitored like a hawk at his middle class job. Except one day, everything changed. One day, while sitting in his cubicle, Remy typed a phrase into the Google search bar that he would forever regret:
“Myth about a man rolling a boulder up a hill.”
Even as Remy typed in the phrase, he thought he knew what the search engine was about to say. If he was on Jeopardy, and had to come up with the question to the phrase he just typed in…Remy would have put “Who was Sisyphus?”
What Remy didn’t know at the time was that the millions of people throughout the world who subscribe to the Ancient Prophecy (a legend that Remy’s parents all but shielded him from throughout his childhood, and one to which Remy himself paid little attention prior to this moment) believed that with this search on Google, the “Lost Hero” was just found. What Remy had learned since (from the almost constant hum of chants around him…and the small notes pinned to his cubicle wall that he takes down, to only re-emerge the next day…all saying the same thing: “And on the 14th of June, a meager man, without hope, will reconnect with his past. This man’s name will be an amalgamation of sorts of his once former self: Sisyphus.”)
Since that dreadful day, each day was a new day for Remy. Each of these new days were now filled with the masses beseeching him to defeat the “Great Corporation”. Laurels were placed at his feet as he walked…and more “scripture” found its way to his cubicle every day. Words from an ancient book that Remy still refused to read. Sentences that always seemed vague and far fetched: “This new Sisyphus will take down a pillar in the worldly market: A Great Apple, and Money Cards”. (Remy’s huddled masses informed him daily that those words were indeed prophetic and surely meant that that Apple, and Credit cards were to be destroyed).
But each day, Remy ignored the signs, the chants, the “prophecies” on his desk…until…one day, he had enough. Standing in the middle of Time Square with his usual flock surrounding him…he yelled out “HOW CAN I DEFEAT THESE GREAT GIANTS?”
Through the midst of the crowd (and keeping word perfect with the ancient legend), a woman appeared bearing a book. The Book of Legend. There was a ribbon placed in the book, earmarking a page. She handed the book to Remy, who took it into his hands. Each of the hundreds in mass around him bowed to their knees. Remy opened the book to the ribbon marked page, and looked down. Nothing surprised him anymore. But, this did. There was one small sentence…highlighted:
“And this amalgamation of the Sisyphus will defeat the Great Apple, and Cards of Money with a writing tool that will reach and align the masses...where once his words are cast, all will have *read it*."
| |
[WP] You are Something. You whisper in the ears of humans, warning them about the future. You are why people say "Something tells me so and so." One day, a little boy looks over his shoulder and says "Thanks for the advice." | Walking along the verdant neighborhood park, my footsteps echo in disquieting harmony. Yet for every step I take, no sound is made.
It has been this way for ages. I might call it a curse, but I don't care. Although caring and feelings are indeed my function. I have lost the sense of wonder ever since I peaked into the oblique future. Don't get it? I am your gut feeling — the sense of entitlement all so blessed to humans that allow you to rudimentary uphold clairvoyance, if I am to put it bluntly.
Once more, I continued to walk this radiant park. Eyeing my next recipient of a many-faced gift. Then, I saw a queer little boy sitting unattended on a bench. The wooden bench was facing a small pond which holstered a bountiful amount of unequivocal fishes and white swans. Oddly, the bench, which was lengthy by some means had the boy plastered in the deadly middle. The young boy, wearing a black sweater, arms flat on his laps, stared straight into the open. It seemed strangely habitual.
Being grim, I approach him from behind. I took off my top hat with my right hand wiping off any filth that had found it's way to it, and lowered my head just before his shoulders.
"Someone close to you, is about to die, you should be sad, and maybe cry about it later to your parents, but they won't believe you"
I said brutally and powerfully.
Grinning at an interesting forecast, I put back the top hat on my head, readying to visit my next victim.
Just as I was about to move away, a nonchalant soft voice was heard.
"Thanks for the advice", said the gleaming boy looking over his shoulder, but not directly at me.
"Wh....what", I said shockingly.
"I said, thanks for the advice, sir." in the same apathetic tone.
"Wow, you, you — can actually hear me." I said.
"Ha, ha-ha, ha-ha-ha, ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha" I laughed louder and louder. "I have roamed far and wide, and a meager boy is the one that is evoked to hear what I have to say"
"But I am afraid I have some advice for you too, sir." the boy said ominously
"And what could that possible be? Little chap. Oh, wait — nothing. What can a simpleton teach a king — nothing. I am the almighty and you are feeble. I can't wait to tell you who I am."
"Oh I think I know who you are, sir."
"You do? Nobody can understand me, other than me, myself! I, am both everything and an individual being! Everything is something and I am something. What can you possibly think you know, and understand, when I know everything " I rhetoric
"I think you underestimate how close, si—"
"What did you say, little chap?" I said curtly and mockingly.
I hated humans, and I have longed to have my chance to say what I wanted.
The little boy stopped and smiled.
"Sir you've made me repeat myself again." the boy said in startling sinister. "I think you need to recall your own advice. Well, that's only my lowly advice."
"And why should I?"
"We live in futility, while you live in interpreting it. Your existence is nothing to me while I am something. Everything in this world — Good or Bad, has been in part my undertaking. Every war, every murder, every burst of emotion or euphoria.
It's all me, little boy and if you think, that you comprehend my being, than I am afraid, you cannot begin to fathom the nature — the essence — the very world of who I am!
I orate in eloquence.
I implicate the choreography.
I...I...I......I.. I........—
I....c............can't—
......................breath.
W........what—
........did—
........ you—
........t..to—
..........me?"
"Ah, if only you stopped and listen Sir. For you see, I was trying to warn you. You were right about something, Mr. Something. We do live in futility, but you chose to wrong person to rant to. Well, it's too bad. You don't have the Something for yourself." the little boy said grimly.
I couldn't speak, I couldn't breath, I couldn't see. What is happening?
"Someone close to me is going to die, someone unexpectedly —
Close" said the boy malevolently
Is this a curse? For my blasphemy and sacrilege. But this can't be, I am all-powerful, omniscient, omnipresent.
"Well, it was nice meeting you, sir, even if it was short and brief moment. That was a very grandiloquent speech by the way.
May I never see you again.
Goodbye—
Sir"
said Death brutally and powerfully.
--
A group of people suddenly rushed to a scene in a middle of a park. Concerned onlookers wondering what was proceeding. Nobody could see a young boy in a black sweater walking away. Nonetheless there was something floating on the pond that the fishes were swimming around — a black elegant top hat.
| "You're welco-wait what?"
"I said, thanks for the advice," the boy said, still looking at me.
I'd been doing this for centuries. Some called me intuition, some called me a 'gut feeling', but humans had ALWAYS attributed my actions to something within themselves, or a guardian angel; no one ever thought there was a 'something' literally whispering in their ear... and why would they? Humans couldn't see me, or really hear me for that matter. Until today.
"Y-you can see me?"
"Well, yeah. What are you anyway? Are you an angel? You don't really look like an angel."
"I'm a 'something'... Can I ask, what do I look like? To you, I mean?"
"Um... well, you look like a shimmery mirror man. Like the bad guy from one of my dad's movies," the boy furled his brow, thinking, "Prederter, I think it's called."
"Hm," Mirror man, huh? That's weird. To myself, I've always looked human. All except for my eyes. My eyes are pure white, almost glowing.
Of course, I don't know why I thought this was strange. Normally I was invisible to all but myself, but now I was somewhere between invisible and visible; at least to this kid. There were other humans on the street, and none of them showed any interest in me at all.
"Hey mirror-man, I gotta go. My mommy will be worried if I'm gone too long."
"Huh? Oh," I looked down at the boy again, still at a loss about the whole situation, "yeah, see ya later, kid."
As the boy walked back toward the coffee shop he'd come out of, I retreated back into 'somewhere'. Floating in the foggy expanse that is my realm, my home I guess, I thought about that boy. He had SEEN me, he had HEARD me. I'd been alone for my entire existence, here in 'somewhere' and in the realm of the humans. Sure, I could influence them, plant ideas in their minds, but they had no idea I was there. Honestly, I didn't even know if there were others like me. I had always assumed I was the only one of my kind.
I had never realized how lonely I was. Not until that boy saw me, spoke to me. Every day that goes by, I hope for a response from the humans I influence. Every day, I look for that boy, hoping for one more conversation, even just a few words. Every day, I wish I hadn't whispered to that boy to stay out of the street, out of the way of that delivery truck that would have hit him.
I hate myself for that, but if I hadn't met that boy, I'd still be ignorant of what loneliness really is, and ignorance is bliss. | |
[WP] How does the Grim Reaper react to a Zombie Apocalypse? | "Thank you for calling Ethereal Weapon and Supply Company. My name is QXkLUarq. How may I be of assistance?"
"My Scythe is not reaping correctly, Every time I harvest a soul it--"
"Thank sir I am sorry to hear you are experiencing difficulty. May I have your name please?"
"... rude ... YES Reaper, first name Grimm. "
"hmmm I don't see any records for you Mr. Reaper, oh here it is they had you under Lord Death."
"Yes now about the Scythe it's bee--"
"Please hold while I transfer you to our technical support group"
*sigh*
"E,W&S tech support K'H'n'jal'so speaking, May I have your full name please?"
"but I just gave that to the--"
"Sir I am going to need your full name to start a case. Attitude won't help us fix this any faster"
"... Grimm Reaper"
"I don't see that is there another name the account may be listed under?"
"uh... Lord Death? the Olden Bones? the Dire harv---"
"ah yes I see you here Mr. Reaper, What seems to be the difficulty you are experiencing"
"Finally! yes my Scythe is malfunctioning. Every time I take a soul the husk keeps moving. It's making quite a mess. Husks are eating the other mortal coils are afterwards. My boss is going to obliterate me if too many more pass before they're ready. Quality control is already breathing down my neck"
"I see so would you characterize this as undesirable plague spreading or uncontrolled necromancy?"
"uh.. Both I suppose? Definitely uncontrolled necromancy yes."
"Yes yes, can you find the makers mark on your implement sir? I believe your scythe may have a recall active"
"Well I can already tell you it's defective! How do I fix it!?"
"Sir I have already warned you to maintain a civil tone I will not warn you again"
"UGH alright please these things are really getting out of hand. A whole mortal city is in flames already"
"I understand this is a very stressfull situation sir. now please the maker's mark?"
"Let's see here.... ah Brokk and Eiti?"
"hmmm yes I see here that this appears to be the known 'Zombie' defect. Terrible side effect of mortals with active imaginations affecting unshielded enchantments. Alright Mr Reaper I can send you an RMA kit for repair, Infernal Express can have it to you within an epoch."
"This really is very urgent can I pay for expedited shipping?"
"Certainly sir one decade and one century rates are available"
"give me the decade then..." | "Martha, have you seen this shit?" The Grim Reaper asked, turning the magical 'newspaper' towards his spouse.
"Haven't had a chance to read it yet, Dave. What with you hogging it and all," she muttered, washing the dishes.
"Well, excuse me for wanting to catch up on the news before work," he grumbled.
"So," she sighed, "what is it?"
He took a sip of the coffee, which somehow did not pour out the bottom of his skeleton onto the floor. It was one of the deals he made before agreeing to the job: he wanted to be able to enjoy eating, even if he was still dead. This job had to have *some* perks.
"Looks like the Nosoi were right after all. Some idiot *did* end up creating the perfect virus after all. Zombie virus, if you can believe that shit. Humanity is toast."
Martha turned from her chores at the sink. "Are you messing with me, Dave? Is this another one of your little jokes? Because frankly, I don't think I could put up with it if it was."
"No, look!" he said, standing from his chair and walking to her. He held up the phantom newspaper, which she took and read.
"Holy crap," she said, looking up to him. "This is really happening? The end of the world?"
"I think it is," Dave said with quiet optimism.
"Does this mean what I think it means?" she asked, an edge of excitement creeping into her voice for the first time in centuries.
"Sure does, honey," he replied gleefully. "I'll have to work a little bit of overtime at first, but soon..."
He looked out at the window and felt joy spread throughout him.
"Soon, I can retire." | |
[WP] How does the Grim Reaper react to a Zombie Apocalypse? | "Thank you for calling Ethereal Weapon and Supply Company. My name is QXkLUarq. How may I be of assistance?"
"My Scythe is not reaping correctly, Every time I harvest a soul it--"
"Thank sir I am sorry to hear you are experiencing difficulty. May I have your name please?"
"... rude ... YES Reaper, first name Grimm. "
"hmmm I don't see any records for you Mr. Reaper, oh here it is they had you under Lord Death."
"Yes now about the Scythe it's bee--"
"Please hold while I transfer you to our technical support group"
*sigh*
"E,W&S tech support K'H'n'jal'so speaking, May I have your full name please?"
"but I just gave that to the--"
"Sir I am going to need your full name to start a case. Attitude won't help us fix this any faster"
"... Grimm Reaper"
"I don't see that is there another name the account may be listed under?"
"uh... Lord Death? the Olden Bones? the Dire harv---"
"ah yes I see you here Mr. Reaper, What seems to be the difficulty you are experiencing"
"Finally! yes my Scythe is malfunctioning. Every time I take a soul the husk keeps moving. It's making quite a mess. Husks are eating the other mortal coils are afterwards. My boss is going to obliterate me if too many more pass before they're ready. Quality control is already breathing down my neck"
"I see so would you characterize this as undesirable plague spreading or uncontrolled necromancy?"
"uh.. Both I suppose? Definitely uncontrolled necromancy yes."
"Yes yes, can you find the makers mark on your implement sir? I believe your scythe may have a recall active"
"Well I can already tell you it's defective! How do I fix it!?"
"Sir I have already warned you to maintain a civil tone I will not warn you again"
"UGH alright please these things are really getting out of hand. A whole mortal city is in flames already"
"I understand this is a very stressfull situation sir. now please the maker's mark?"
"Let's see here.... ah Brokk and Eiti?"
"hmmm yes I see here that this appears to be the known 'Zombie' defect. Terrible side effect of mortals with active imaginations affecting unshielded enchantments. Alright Mr Reaper I can send you an RMA kit for repair, Infernal Express can have it to you within an epoch."
"This really is very urgent can I pay for expedited shipping?"
"Certainly sir one decade and one century rates are available"
"give me the decade then..." | Grim Avatar
I looked over the world with a sigh.
I didn't really, of course. Out of the eyes of every insect, every bird and squirrel, and even every human I saw nearly everything that went on. Secrets weren't safe from me unless they were safe from life itself. Or . . . unlife.
I looked out from the eyes of the zombies as well. Oceans of mindless undead. Something had to be done. It would break millennia of nonintervention, but the human race was at risk. And as unpleasant as that species could be, I had plans for them.
In the moment I'd spent thinking about that, I'd touched hundreds of thousands of souls with an intimacy they'd never known. In the moment of their death, I knew them more closely than their mother, their lover, than themselves. So many, so fast, and so few were left.
Well. First things first. I would need an avatar. I looked through the earth again, and found her. A young one, a little girl. She had a soul like a bent, rusty nail. Life had beaten her over and over, and sometimes she'd bent under the blows. But she was still strong, still hard, still sharp. Growing up among so much death sometimes forged such extraordinary people.
She'd been bitten, though. That was okay. I didn't need her life. I laid a metaphorical hand on her soul. They always saw something different, their soul drawing from their personal experiences to represent the concept of me.
"Gr-grandma?" Her voice wavered. The men around her looked at each other, confused.
"She must be delirous," her father said. "Her grandmother's been dead for decades." The other man - a doctor, once - just nodded. This doctor had seen enough. He was close to choosing weakness over strength, seeking the easy way out.
I negated her question. Her mind manifested it as her grandmother shaking her head, in a grandmotherly way. "You are dying, child. But you want to protect your older brother. You want to protect your father. You even want to protect the coward that wanted to kill you and leave you behind. You want people to stop hurting."
She nodded, tears spilling over. The virus ate at her nerves, and she felt it as a buzzing fire and pain. "You are going to die. I will not interfere. But I can protect those you care for. I will not interfere with the pain and death in the world, but I can create a haven where people can begin to live again. To do it, I must inhabit you and act through you. All I need is . . . "
I didn't have a chance to finish, not speaking at the achingly slow pace of human thought. I felt her acceptance intensely. I knew she didn't believe me, but I could tell she'd sell her very soul.
Luckily for her, I didn't offer that deal. Her life vanished, and a tiny fragment of what I was flowed in to replace it. Her soul remained, a catalyst and a vessel and a silent judge, lest I break my word. Her body stood up from the bed, at once weak and strong, alive and dead, the kind of thing legends were born from.
I turned the small head to look into her father's eyes, and spoke through it.
"You and I, we have a lot of work to do."
(I haven't had a chance to polish this a lot, and I feel like it may not connect well in places. Nevertheless, I'm open to any feedback.) | |
[WP] How does the Grim Reaper react to a Zombie Apocalypse? | "Thank you for calling Ethereal Weapon and Supply Company. My name is QXkLUarq. How may I be of assistance?"
"My Scythe is not reaping correctly, Every time I harvest a soul it--"
"Thank sir I am sorry to hear you are experiencing difficulty. May I have your name please?"
"... rude ... YES Reaper, first name Grimm. "
"hmmm I don't see any records for you Mr. Reaper, oh here it is they had you under Lord Death."
"Yes now about the Scythe it's bee--"
"Please hold while I transfer you to our technical support group"
*sigh*
"E,W&S tech support K'H'n'jal'so speaking, May I have your full name please?"
"but I just gave that to the--"
"Sir I am going to need your full name to start a case. Attitude won't help us fix this any faster"
"... Grimm Reaper"
"I don't see that is there another name the account may be listed under?"
"uh... Lord Death? the Olden Bones? the Dire harv---"
"ah yes I see you here Mr. Reaper, What seems to be the difficulty you are experiencing"
"Finally! yes my Scythe is malfunctioning. Every time I take a soul the husk keeps moving. It's making quite a mess. Husks are eating the other mortal coils are afterwards. My boss is going to obliterate me if too many more pass before they're ready. Quality control is already breathing down my neck"
"I see so would you characterize this as undesirable plague spreading or uncontrolled necromancy?"
"uh.. Both I suppose? Definitely uncontrolled necromancy yes."
"Yes yes, can you find the makers mark on your implement sir? I believe your scythe may have a recall active"
"Well I can already tell you it's defective! How do I fix it!?"
"Sir I have already warned you to maintain a civil tone I will not warn you again"
"UGH alright please these things are really getting out of hand. A whole mortal city is in flames already"
"I understand this is a very stressfull situation sir. now please the maker's mark?"
"Let's see here.... ah Brokk and Eiti?"
"hmmm yes I see here that this appears to be the known 'Zombie' defect. Terrible side effect of mortals with active imaginations affecting unshielded enchantments. Alright Mr Reaper I can send you an RMA kit for repair, Infernal Express can have it to you within an epoch."
"This really is very urgent can I pay for expedited shipping?"
"Certainly sir one decade and one century rates are available"
"give me the decade then..." | “Apprentice! Come here! Explain… this. What is this nonsense?”
“They are called ‘Zombies’, my Lord.”
“Zombies? What are Zombies?”
“The folk call them ‘the undead’, Sir. They are alive and dead.”
“How can they be alive, if I can’t kill them? See? I can’t even touch them!”
“Life has left them, O dark Lord. Yet it lingers. Almost like a whisper. They have lost their souls, their wits, yet their most primal instinct remain intact. The one for hunger seems to be the predominant one, Sir.”
“But I haven’t touched them. How do they die? How do they become like this?”
“No one knows, My Lord. Some say it’s a virus, some say it’s the next step in evolution but no one knows for certain.”
“This can’t be the next step in evolution. I ALWAYS had a say in that process. Besides, it goes on way too rapidly.... No. This is hand made. Hand made by those foolish humans. They tried to play god once more and cheat death and, once again, they failed.”
“Have they, Sir? It seems these creature do not age and also don’t die. You said it yourself, Sir, they cannot be touched by you.”
…
“... Aye, I can’t touch them. Not directly…”
“What are you saying, my lord of darkness?”
“As you said, they are ‘undead’: too alive to die, but too far gone to life. It seems we need to find a way to squeeze the last bit of life out of them.”
“How are we supposed to do that?”
“We will mobilize our best killing machine, apprentice.”
“What is that?”
“Mankind.”
| |
[WP] How does the Grim Reaper react to a Zombie Apocalypse? | "What do you mean no ones dying, Dave" spat Mr. Grim. Dave was a short man, denizens of the underworld often referred to him as 'the reapers pug' "People have to die Dave, it's impossible for them to come back"
"Bu-but Gri-Mr. Grim look at the charts. W-we haven't had a permanent resident in two-three months" Dave said as a stream of water began to appear above his brow.
Mr. Grim paced around the room, mumbling - most likely curses - all the while grating his boney fingers across his skull.
"Okay, Dave, just go up there and check they haven't done something stupid...like make sure they didn't cure fucking cancer" Mr. Grim sighed worriedly.
------
"Mr. Grim t-the humans they-"
"they cured fucking cancer didn't they?" Screamed Mr. Grim "i swear to Go- where is my scythe Dave?"
"Sir! It's not cancer its...i-its zombies" said Dave wearily
"Zombi-zombies? Oh shit, it is that time again" Grim embarrassingly let out "well Dave, i guess it's time to go down to the Winchester, have a pint and wait for all this to blow over!"
| I'm not doing a damn thing until the Big Man gives me a raise and some benefits.
My hours suck. 24/7, 365. I'm ALWAYS on call. There is no one to relieve me. I don't even get an assistant!
So yeah, I'm on strike. Nobody dies until I get a meeting. We'll see how long that lasts when the Earth gets overrun with piles of rotting corpses mucking up everything. And we'll see how the Big Man likes it when the complaint calls start pouring in from every church on the planet saying there is nothing about this in their manual! Ha!
And the living? Once they are left to their own devices they'll eat each other. Take that circle of life away and the delicate balance is gone. Looting, raping and murder, but guess what? I'm not cleaning those up either so you'll just get more and more of these things that won't die.
So I'm making my list. I want holidays, I want an assistant, and I want some decent PR. I'm tired over the image that I'm a damn skeleton with a sickle. Like a damn anorexic Emperor Palpatine. Yeah, I get to see movies whenever some fat bitch chokes to death on a jujubee. I'd like to be able to sit down and enjoy one. But I digress. Where was I? Oh yeah, PR. I want a better image. Get me the guys that did Saint Nicholas. Holy shit. That guy gave some money to the poor once and now people thinks he rides flying fucking reindeer.
But no work. Not until I get what's mine. | |
[WP] In a spectacular "fuck you" to the world, Google and all of its branches (yes, even YouTube) shut down. Closed. For good. No warnings, no previous musings that it might happen. Tell me a story of how "day five" might be going. | The first day was a shock. Almost as a gift from heaven. In all my years working at this dump, I have never heard a silence be as deafening as the very moment our branch manager announced to the floor that Google shut down.
Our PR branch was losing their shit that day when all the employees in their sector each had to handle at least 100 different companies trying to shift their advertisement efforts to other search engines.
It was chaotic but lively, because everybody had hope that we would be the new Google. But we weren't ready for the news. We weren't ready.
Our servers couldn't handle the traffic, and our TelCom was leveraging against us. We spent 3 days going back and forth on conference calls and flying lawyers to each other as if we were playing ping pong and the lawyers were helpless victims spending 3 hours of flying between every hour of hearing rejections and renegotiation.
Meanwhile, back on my floor, everybody with a brain cell was trying to come up with MacGuyver solutions to handle the incoming traffic with the preexisting tools we had. First, we stopped our links to be completely static and unchanging. I guess we underestimated how quickly things can go viral, and apparently some jag was streaming himself eating shit. We got overwhelmed by searches for "Guy eat shit", understandably since the people searching weren't getting any results, seeing as how our links were stopped in time.
The backlog was too great, and everybody was in to their 8th hour of overtime at least.
The clock struck 12, and now we're here in Day five: the day Bing crashed. | Day 5. It's quiet now. The riots seem to have stopped as now people have settled into a lethargic depression. They keep picking people up that are having some kind of emotional breakdown; nothing left to distract themselves. The guy in my hallway keeps wandering around from door to door asking people if they think the brown spot on his foot is cancer. He asked me but I told him I wasn't a dermatologist. What was the service for finding information before google? I remember hearing my parents talk about it at one point....wish I could remember. Everyone seems to be falling apart in different ways, though ironically the cat lady downstairs has become one of the most popular tenants. People used to complain about the smell, but now they go spend hours down there just watching her cats do stupid cat shit.
I went outside today now that things have finally calmed down. The aftermath is a disaster. There are have burnt pictures of Larry Page and Sergey Brin lining the streets and flying down the street. He looks like someone...an actor or something. That guy that was in that movie....I took out my phone on instinct and then realized the irony of what I was about to do. I smiled to myself putting my phone back in my pocket.
Man my memory sucks. |
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