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[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | "GREETINGS FELLOW ADVENTURING HUMANS!" Boomed the voice of Danny the Elf sat bolt upright from the sleeping cloth sack she had been in, causing Bob the Barbarian to grunt and curl up under his animal hide sleeping rug again.
"IT IS I, YOUR GOOD FRIEND DAN, I AM UNHARMED AFTER MY ENCOUNTER WITH THE DAEMON!" She continued smiling oddly, her mouth breaking into a wide grin with teeth and her eyebrows actually elevating.
"Dann...." Feldspar the half-elf warlock managed to stop himself from saying Danny, "You told us this before, remember?"
Danny the Elf blinked, everything was always so terribly confusing, having come from a dimension that didn't have time it had to learn about things happening and things that had happened, Makor the Cleric had helped with that, teaching the snow elf about how things happen and can't be changed but things that haven't happened yet can be altered.
"OH YES FRIEND!" Danny laughed as if it was a running joke, Sim the halfling thief/bard laughed a little as well in sympathy or perhaps enjoyment.
"WHERE ARE WE GOING TODAY? WILL THERE BE MORE EXCELLENT FERMENTED YEAST PRODUCTS TO CONSUME?"
Makor nodded slowly, "That's right Dan, more beer at the end of the adventure, now how did we get back the entrance avoiding the dragon, getting the treasure and nobody getting hurt?"
"OF COURSE FRIEND! THIS IS A THING THAT HAPPENED ALREADY AFTER ALL!" Danny confirmed with the group as each of them nodded in agreement pressing in to listen carefully to Danny.
"FIRSTLY, WE LEFT THE ROOM BY THE SOUTH ENTRANCE, SIM DISABLED THE PIT TRAP AFTER FALLING INTO IT AND DYING THE FIRST TIME HE TRIED." Danny started to explain.
Sim frowned a little looking towards the South entrance, he'd died; again, if 'Dan' hadn't told him about the pit trap or the acid or the undercooked chicken or ... he was incredibly glad that 'Dan' had changed so dramatically since that encounter with the demon.
"THE TREASURE IS MOSTLY CURSED AND FELDSPAR CHANGED INTO A SHEEP WHEN HE PICKED UP A STAFF THEN A STATUE AS HE TOUCHED THE CURSED DIAMOND AS LARGE AS HIS FIST AND THEN WAS KILLED AS HE PICKED UP A CROWN." Danny continued as Feldspar took careful notes, the warlock couldn't remember the last time he'd bothered to cast identification or detect item status.
Feldspar liked whatever was living inside Danny, even when the party wasn't using it as a cheap way to complete adventures the Elf was nicer, kinder and fun to listen to, with her soft voice always shouting it was hard not to giggle at her.
"THEN AS WE LEAVE THE REAL MAKOR ATTACKS THE FAKE ONE CURRENTLY TRAVELLING WITH US AND IS EASILY DEFEATED." Danny concluded smiling proudly.
Makor looked around the group as for a moment he was sure that his plan had been ruined, they must know, it was just said aloud.
Sim however was fiddling with his lock picks, clearly fully distracted, Feldspar was already in a meditative trance memorising spells.
Bob smiled widely at Makor and Danny before speaking in his native tongue, "What did she say then? Sounded like bad news for you, Feldspar and Sim..."
Makor nodded with a rush of relief as Bob wondered how many more times he could possibly pass that particular lie your face off check. | "GREETINGS FELLOW ADVENTURING HUMANS!" Boomed the voice of Danny the Elf sat bolt upright from the sleeping cloth sack she had been in, causing Bob the Barbarian to grunt and curl up under his animal hide sleeping rug again.
"IT IS I, YOUR GOOD FRIEND DAN, I AM UNHARMED AFTER MY ENCOUNTER WITH THE DAEMON!" She continued smiling oddly, her mouth breaking into a wide grin with teeth and her eyebrows actually elevating.
"Dann...." Feldspar the half-elf warlock managed to stop himself from saying Danny, "You told us this before, remember?"
Danny the Elf blinked, everything was always so terribly confusing, having come from a dimension that didn't have time it had to learn about things happening and things that had happened, Makor the Cleric had helped with that, teaching the snow elf about how things happen and can't be changed but things that haven't happened yet can be altered.
"OH YES FRIEND!" Danny laughed as if it was a running joke, Sim the halfling thief/bard laughed a little as well in sympathy or perhaps enjoyment.
"WHERE ARE WE GOING TODAY? WILL THERE BE MORE EXCELLENT FERMENTED YEAST PRODUCTS TO CONSUME?"
Makor nodded slowly, "That's right Dan, more beer at the end of the adventure, now how did we get back the entrance avoiding the dragon, getting the treasure and nobody getting hurt?"
"OF COURSE FRIEND! THIS IS A THING THAT HAPPENED ALREADY AFTER ALL!" Danny confirmed with the group as each of them nodded in agreement pressing in to listen carefully to Danny.
"FIRSTLY, WE LEFT THE ROOM BY THE SOUTH ENTRANCE, SIM DISABLED THE PIT TRAP AFTER FALLING INTO IT AND DYING THE FIRST TIME HE TRIED." Danny started to explain.
Sim frowned a little looking towards the South entrance, he'd died; again, if 'Dan' hadn't told him about the pit trap or the acid or the undercooked chicken or ... he was incredibly glad that 'Dan' had changed so dramatically since that encounter with the demon.
"THE TREASURE IS MOSTLY CURSED AND FELDSPAR CHANGED INTO A SHEEP WHEN HE PICKED UP A STAFF THEN A STATUE AS HE TOUCHED THE CURSED DIAMOND AS LARGE AS HIS FIST AND THEN WAS KILLED AS HE PICKED UP A CROWN." Danny continued as Feldspar took careful notes, the warlock couldn't remember the last time he'd bothered to cast identification or detect item status.
Feldspar liked whatever was living inside Danny, even when the party wasn't using it as a cheap way to complete adventures the Elf was nicer, kinder and fun to listen to, with her soft voice always shouting it was hard not to giggle at her.
"THEN AS WE LEAVE THE REAL MAKOR ATTACKS THE FAKE ONE CURRENTLY TRAVELLING WITH US AND IS EASILY DEFEATED." Danny concluded smiling proudly.
Makor looked around the group as for a moment he was sure that his plan had been ruined, they must know, it was just said aloud.
Sim however was fiddling with his lock picks, clearly fully distracted, Feldspar was already in a meditative trance memorising spells.
Bob smiled widely at Makor and Danny before speaking in his native tongue, "What did she say then? Sounded like bad news for you, Feldspar and Sim..."
Makor nodded with a rush of relief as Bob wondered how many more times he could possibly pass that particular lie your face off check. | |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | Theldon – or at least the creature that was wearing his face – looked pale in the light of the campfire. As the wood crackled and burned, he chewed his lower lip, gathering his courage to speak.
“Guys … I … I have something to tell you,” he managed.
His three traveling companions looked at him. Vanariel snapped her spellbook shut and drew her staff. “What is it? An ambush? I told you guys I saw goblin-sign back there!”
“No, no! Not goblins!” Theldon said, holding his hands out. “It’s … it’s about me.”
Shiny Pete smirked. “What? You got the whore’s itch or something? Nothing to be ashamed of, buddy. Happened to us all once or twice.”
Dagmar glowered at the rogue from under bushy eyebrows. “Or mayhap a good number of times more than that.”
“No! It's not a disease either! It’s just …” Theldon took a deep breath. “Guys … I’m … I’m a doppelganger."
The three of them shared a long look, and then Vanariel and Shiny Pete burst out laughing. Dagmar’s glower deepened. “That’s no’ funny, lad,” he growled.
Vanariel and Shiny Pete stopped laughing. “Wait, wait,” the rogue said, “Dagmar, you didn’t *know?*”
Theldon looked shocked. “Wait, you guys *knew?*”
The elven woman tittered. “You’re not the shapeshifter you think you are. The real Theldon was an asshole.”
“Total dickwad,” Shiny Pete agreed. “In, like, every conceivable way.”
Dagmar leapt to his feet, drawing his axe. “You mean this is no’ a joke?” he roared, advancing on Theldon. “Die, fiend!”
As one, Vanariel and Shiny Pete placed themselves between the enraged dwarf and the doppleganger. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Shiny Pete yelled. “This might not be the original Theldon, but he’s been with us for almost a year now. He was the guy who stood over you after you got paralyzed by a ghoul.”
“He took point when we fought that dragon,” Vanariel continued.
“Hell, he got in the face of evil sorcerer while you were busy chopping up his henchmen,” Shiny Pete added.
“Those henchmen represented a serious threat!” Dagmar retorted, “And it was no' like it was a full-grown dragon. Only a wee one!”
In unison, Valariel and Shiny Pete rolled their eyes. Dagmar glowered some more. He was good at it, and he liked to play to his strengths. At last the dwarf made a humphing noise and lowered his axe. Valariel sat down and opened her spellbook again. “Okay, that’s over right? We can get back to the adventuring?”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Pete said. Dagmar only grunted.
“Did you guys really know?” Theldon asked, still somewhat wary of the dwarf.
“Oh, yeah. I mean, it was kind of suspicious how he was dying of jungle rot one day and completely fine the next. But you’re really not much like the original Theldon at all. First of all, you’re actually useful in combat. And second of all, you’re a decent guy. I mean, I can have an ale with you and not worry that you’re going to stiff me on the check,” Pete said.
“Or stare at my tits while I’m trancing. Or grab my ass when I’m trying to brew potions,” Vanariel added. “And the ear jokes. Ugh, the original Theldon was such a creep. Why did we even keep him around?”
"Good question," Pete said. "I mean, I asked myself that a bunch of times after we got new Theldon. 'Why did we even keep that tool around in the first place?'"
“So you guys don’t even care that I’m a shapeshifter?”
“Not really, no,” Pete said. “I worked with lots of different people when I was in the Thieves’ Guild. Changelings weren’t any more likely to try killing me in my sleep than humans or half-elves. In my experience, everyone’s pretty human when you get down to it.”
“Hey! Speak for yourself, round-ears,” Vanariel said with half of a smile. “But nevertheless, I agree with the sentiment.”
“Oh,” Theldon said. He sat in own thoughts for a moment. “Thanks, guys. That means a lot to me.”
“Don’t mention it,” Pete said, and Vanariel nodded in agreement.
The evening passed in silence. Shiny Pete honed his daggers, and Vanariel memorized her spells. Dagmar and Theldon each sat in silence, alone with his thoughts.
At last the dwarf spoke. “Lad,” he asked the doppleganger, “have you ever tried maybe not being a shapeshifter?”
| "GREETINGS FELLOW ADVENTURING HUMANS!" Boomed the voice of Danny the Elf sat bolt upright from the sleeping cloth sack she had been in, causing Bob the Barbarian to grunt and curl up under his animal hide sleeping rug again.
"IT IS I, YOUR GOOD FRIEND DAN, I AM UNHARMED AFTER MY ENCOUNTER WITH THE DAEMON!" She continued smiling oddly, her mouth breaking into a wide grin with teeth and her eyebrows actually elevating.
"Dann...." Feldspar the half-elf warlock managed to stop himself from saying Danny, "You told us this before, remember?"
Danny the Elf blinked, everything was always so terribly confusing, having come from a dimension that didn't have time it had to learn about things happening and things that had happened, Makor the Cleric had helped with that, teaching the snow elf about how things happen and can't be changed but things that haven't happened yet can be altered.
"OH YES FRIEND!" Danny laughed as if it was a running joke, Sim the halfling thief/bard laughed a little as well in sympathy or perhaps enjoyment.
"WHERE ARE WE GOING TODAY? WILL THERE BE MORE EXCELLENT FERMENTED YEAST PRODUCTS TO CONSUME?"
Makor nodded slowly, "That's right Dan, more beer at the end of the adventure, now how did we get back the entrance avoiding the dragon, getting the treasure and nobody getting hurt?"
"OF COURSE FRIEND! THIS IS A THING THAT HAPPENED ALREADY AFTER ALL!" Danny confirmed with the group as each of them nodded in agreement pressing in to listen carefully to Danny.
"FIRSTLY, WE LEFT THE ROOM BY THE SOUTH ENTRANCE, SIM DISABLED THE PIT TRAP AFTER FALLING INTO IT AND DYING THE FIRST TIME HE TRIED." Danny started to explain.
Sim frowned a little looking towards the South entrance, he'd died; again, if 'Dan' hadn't told him about the pit trap or the acid or the undercooked chicken or ... he was incredibly glad that 'Dan' had changed so dramatically since that encounter with the demon.
"THE TREASURE IS MOSTLY CURSED AND FELDSPAR CHANGED INTO A SHEEP WHEN HE PICKED UP A STAFF THEN A STATUE AS HE TOUCHED THE CURSED DIAMOND AS LARGE AS HIS FIST AND THEN WAS KILLED AS HE PICKED UP A CROWN." Danny continued as Feldspar took careful notes, the warlock couldn't remember the last time he'd bothered to cast identification or detect item status.
Feldspar liked whatever was living inside Danny, even when the party wasn't using it as a cheap way to complete adventures the Elf was nicer, kinder and fun to listen to, with her soft voice always shouting it was hard not to giggle at her.
"THEN AS WE LEAVE THE REAL MAKOR ATTACKS THE FAKE ONE CURRENTLY TRAVELLING WITH US AND IS EASILY DEFEATED." Danny concluded smiling proudly.
Makor looked around the group as for a moment he was sure that his plan had been ruined, they must know, it was just said aloud.
Sim however was fiddling with his lock picks, clearly fully distracted, Feldspar was already in a meditative trance memorising spells.
Bob smiled widely at Makor and Danny before speaking in his native tongue, "What did she say then? Sounded like bad news for you, Feldspar and Sim..."
Makor nodded with a rush of relief as Bob wondered how many more times he could possibly pass that particular lie your face off check. | |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | Theldon – or at least the creature that was wearing his face – looked pale in the light of the campfire. As the wood crackled and burned, he chewed his lower lip, gathering his courage to speak.
“Guys … I … I have something to tell you,” he managed.
His three traveling companions looked at him. Vanariel snapped her spellbook shut and drew her staff. “What is it? An ambush? I told you guys I saw goblin-sign back there!”
“No, no! Not goblins!” Theldon said, holding his hands out. “It’s … it’s about me.”
Shiny Pete smirked. “What? You got the whore’s itch or something? Nothing to be ashamed of, buddy. Happened to us all once or twice.”
Dagmar glowered at the rogue from under bushy eyebrows. “Or mayhap a good number of times more than that.”
“No! It's not a disease either! It’s just …” Theldon took a deep breath. “Guys … I’m … I’m a doppelganger."
The three of them shared a long look, and then Vanariel and Shiny Pete burst out laughing. Dagmar’s glower deepened. “That’s no’ funny, lad,” he growled.
Vanariel and Shiny Pete stopped laughing. “Wait, wait,” the rogue said, “Dagmar, you didn’t *know?*”
Theldon looked shocked. “Wait, you guys *knew?*”
The elven woman tittered. “You’re not the shapeshifter you think you are. The real Theldon was an asshole.”
“Total dickwad,” Shiny Pete agreed. “In, like, every conceivable way.”
Dagmar leapt to his feet, drawing his axe. “You mean this is no’ a joke?” he roared, advancing on Theldon. “Die, fiend!”
As one, Vanariel and Shiny Pete placed themselves between the enraged dwarf and the doppleganger. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Shiny Pete yelled. “This might not be the original Theldon, but he’s been with us for almost a year now. He was the guy who stood over you after you got paralyzed by a ghoul.”
“He took point when we fought that dragon,” Vanariel continued.
“Hell, he got in the face of evil sorcerer while you were busy chopping up his henchmen,” Shiny Pete added.
“Those henchmen represented a serious threat!” Dagmar retorted, “And it was no' like it was a full-grown dragon. Only a wee one!”
In unison, Valariel and Shiny Pete rolled their eyes. Dagmar glowered some more. He was good at it, and he liked to play to his strengths. At last the dwarf made a humphing noise and lowered his axe. Valariel sat down and opened her spellbook again. “Okay, that’s over right? We can get back to the adventuring?”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Pete said. Dagmar only grunted.
“Did you guys really know?” Theldon asked, still somewhat wary of the dwarf.
“Oh, yeah. I mean, it was kind of suspicious how he was dying of jungle rot one day and completely fine the next. But you’re really not much like the original Theldon at all. First of all, you’re actually useful in combat. And second of all, you’re a decent guy. I mean, I can have an ale with you and not worry that you’re going to stiff me on the check,” Pete said.
“Or stare at my tits while I’m trancing. Or grab my ass when I’m trying to brew potions,” Vanariel added. “And the ear jokes. Ugh, the original Theldon was such a creep. Why did we even keep him around?”
"Good question," Pete said. "I mean, I asked myself that a bunch of times after we got new Theldon. 'Why did we even keep that tool around in the first place?'"
“So you guys don’t even care that I’m a shapeshifter?”
“Not really, no,” Pete said. “I worked with lots of different people when I was in the Thieves’ Guild. Changelings weren’t any more likely to try killing me in my sleep than humans or half-elves. In my experience, everyone’s pretty human when you get down to it.”
“Hey! Speak for yourself, round-ears,” Vanariel said with half of a smile. “But nevertheless, I agree with the sentiment.”
“Oh,” Theldon said. He sat in own thoughts for a moment. “Thanks, guys. That means a lot to me.”
“Don’t mention it,” Pete said, and Vanariel nodded in agreement.
The evening passed in silence. Shiny Pete honed his daggers, and Vanariel memorized her spells. Dagmar and Theldon each sat in silence, alone with his thoughts.
At last the dwarf spoke. “Lad,” he asked the doppleganger, “have you ever tried maybe not being a shapeshifter?”
| "GREETINGS FELLOW ADVENTURING HUMANS!" Boomed the voice of Danny the Elf sat bolt upright from the sleeping cloth sack she had been in, causing Bob the Barbarian to grunt and curl up under his animal hide sleeping rug again.
"IT IS I, YOUR GOOD FRIEND DAN, I AM UNHARMED AFTER MY ENCOUNTER WITH THE DAEMON!" She continued smiling oddly, her mouth breaking into a wide grin with teeth and her eyebrows actually elevating.
"Dann...." Feldspar the half-elf warlock managed to stop himself from saying Danny, "You told us this before, remember?"
Danny the Elf blinked, everything was always so terribly confusing, having come from a dimension that didn't have time it had to learn about things happening and things that had happened, Makor the Cleric had helped with that, teaching the snow elf about how things happen and can't be changed but things that haven't happened yet can be altered.
"OH YES FRIEND!" Danny laughed as if it was a running joke, Sim the halfling thief/bard laughed a little as well in sympathy or perhaps enjoyment.
"WHERE ARE WE GOING TODAY? WILL THERE BE MORE EXCELLENT FERMENTED YEAST PRODUCTS TO CONSUME?"
Makor nodded slowly, "That's right Dan, more beer at the end of the adventure, now how did we get back the entrance avoiding the dragon, getting the treasure and nobody getting hurt?"
"OF COURSE FRIEND! THIS IS A THING THAT HAPPENED ALREADY AFTER ALL!" Danny confirmed with the group as each of them nodded in agreement pressing in to listen carefully to Danny.
"FIRSTLY, WE LEFT THE ROOM BY THE SOUTH ENTRANCE, SIM DISABLED THE PIT TRAP AFTER FALLING INTO IT AND DYING THE FIRST TIME HE TRIED." Danny started to explain.
Sim frowned a little looking towards the South entrance, he'd died; again, if 'Dan' hadn't told him about the pit trap or the acid or the undercooked chicken or ... he was incredibly glad that 'Dan' had changed so dramatically since that encounter with the demon.
"THE TREASURE IS MOSTLY CURSED AND FELDSPAR CHANGED INTO A SHEEP WHEN HE PICKED UP A STAFF THEN A STATUE AS HE TOUCHED THE CURSED DIAMOND AS LARGE AS HIS FIST AND THEN WAS KILLED AS HE PICKED UP A CROWN." Danny continued as Feldspar took careful notes, the warlock couldn't remember the last time he'd bothered to cast identification or detect item status.
Feldspar liked whatever was living inside Danny, even when the party wasn't using it as a cheap way to complete adventures the Elf was nicer, kinder and fun to listen to, with her soft voice always shouting it was hard not to giggle at her.
"THEN AS WE LEAVE THE REAL MAKOR ATTACKS THE FAKE ONE CURRENTLY TRAVELLING WITH US AND IS EASILY DEFEATED." Danny concluded smiling proudly.
Makor looked around the group as for a moment he was sure that his plan had been ruined, they must know, it was just said aloud.
Sim however was fiddling with his lock picks, clearly fully distracted, Feldspar was already in a meditative trance memorising spells.
Bob smiled widely at Makor and Danny before speaking in his native tongue, "What did she say then? Sounded like bad news for you, Feldspar and Sim..."
Makor nodded with a rush of relief as Bob wondered how many more times he could possibly pass that particular lie your face off check. | |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | Approaching the city gate, the adventurers stiffen as the guards halt their way. Of course, Mr. Nobility has to be the one to step forward and speak for the group. Marian lightly touches her bow, prepared to ready an arrow if her arrogant companion gets them into trouble again.
"Greetings, my good men. My name is Hector of the house Rellon. Do you happen to have any directions for a band of weary travelers? We seek no conflict, only a comfortable place to rest for the night."
Sora and Fiera share a look. The last time they entered a new city, he tried to march right past the guards, drawing his sword when they stopped him. They had to find accommodations in a dingy little inn outside the city gates, where the other patrons all gave the distinct impression of being criminals.
Now, though, one guard obligingly gave them directions, and Hector... Hector actually thanked him, and clapped his back like they were old friends. The guard laughed cheerfully and sent them on their way. This was wrong. Hector didn't have friends. He didn't make friends. The only reason his companions hadn't booted him was his skill in combat, which had just barely saved them from more problems than his personality had gotten them into.
That night, as Hector remained in the common room to buy another round for the crowd... an unusual act of generosity... the others gathered in the private room they'd booked.
"Do you remember earlier today, when he left to investigate that noise in the trees?" Asked Sora.
Marian nodded. "But there was nothing there."
"I know," said Sora, "But what if he lied?"
"You think he could be under someone's control?" Fiera chimed in. "I could dispel any magic that might be around him."
Sora shook his head. "I don't think it's control. He hasn't hurt us or been irrational. He's just... *different*. I think he's been replaced."
"That's pretty far-fetched." Marian's voice was skeptical.
"It's happened before," said Sora. "Not all shapeshifters are evil. Some of them just want a safe group to live among. A family. Like what we are to Hector, even though he's an asshole who doesn't deserve us."
Fiera narrowed her eyes. "How do you know so much about shapeshifters?"
Sora sighed. It was time to come clean. "Because I'm one of them. You guys didn't know the real Sora. He tried to raid my nest. Would have gotten a good part of my family killed, as well as his whole group, if I hadn't taken his place. Foolhardy bastard. His friends figured me out, though. I barely escaped, and by then I was used to this form."
"No." Fiera shook her head. "You can't just replace people. The real Hector..."
"The real Hector didn't give a toss about any of us," said Marian. "Do you really think he's worth our compassion? When was the last time he extended any to you?"
Fiera was quiet for a minute, remembering the time she'd broken a leg fighting a troll. And Hector elected to carry the troll's treasure chest out of the dungeon, leaving her to hobble after him using a giant club as a makeshift crutch. "I guess if this shapeshifter is anything like you, Sora, it's probably an improvement."
"I know I was," commented Marian. "My new parents must have known something was different, but the family got along so much better with me in her place that they never questioned it."
Fiera stood from her chair, backing toward the door. "Are you shapeshifters going to replace everybody?"
"No," said Sora and Marian simultaneously.
Sora continued. "You're a good person, Fiera. We only take the place of assholes. People whose absence would actually improve things. For everybody, not just those of us who can change our form. Trust me, Fiera." He smiled, the friendly expression that Fiera had come to find reassuring after the years they'd spent together. "You have nothing to worry about."
Edit: typo | "GREETINGS FELLOW ADVENTURING HUMANS!" Boomed the voice of Danny the Elf sat bolt upright from the sleeping cloth sack she had been in, causing Bob the Barbarian to grunt and curl up under his animal hide sleeping rug again.
"IT IS I, YOUR GOOD FRIEND DAN, I AM UNHARMED AFTER MY ENCOUNTER WITH THE DAEMON!" She continued smiling oddly, her mouth breaking into a wide grin with teeth and her eyebrows actually elevating.
"Dann...." Feldspar the half-elf warlock managed to stop himself from saying Danny, "You told us this before, remember?"
Danny the Elf blinked, everything was always so terribly confusing, having come from a dimension that didn't have time it had to learn about things happening and things that had happened, Makor the Cleric had helped with that, teaching the snow elf about how things happen and can't be changed but things that haven't happened yet can be altered.
"OH YES FRIEND!" Danny laughed as if it was a running joke, Sim the halfling thief/bard laughed a little as well in sympathy or perhaps enjoyment.
"WHERE ARE WE GOING TODAY? WILL THERE BE MORE EXCELLENT FERMENTED YEAST PRODUCTS TO CONSUME?"
Makor nodded slowly, "That's right Dan, more beer at the end of the adventure, now how did we get back the entrance avoiding the dragon, getting the treasure and nobody getting hurt?"
"OF COURSE FRIEND! THIS IS A THING THAT HAPPENED ALREADY AFTER ALL!" Danny confirmed with the group as each of them nodded in agreement pressing in to listen carefully to Danny.
"FIRSTLY, WE LEFT THE ROOM BY THE SOUTH ENTRANCE, SIM DISABLED THE PIT TRAP AFTER FALLING INTO IT AND DYING THE FIRST TIME HE TRIED." Danny started to explain.
Sim frowned a little looking towards the South entrance, he'd died; again, if 'Dan' hadn't told him about the pit trap or the acid or the undercooked chicken or ... he was incredibly glad that 'Dan' had changed so dramatically since that encounter with the demon.
"THE TREASURE IS MOSTLY CURSED AND FELDSPAR CHANGED INTO A SHEEP WHEN HE PICKED UP A STAFF THEN A STATUE AS HE TOUCHED THE CURSED DIAMOND AS LARGE AS HIS FIST AND THEN WAS KILLED AS HE PICKED UP A CROWN." Danny continued as Feldspar took careful notes, the warlock couldn't remember the last time he'd bothered to cast identification or detect item status.
Feldspar liked whatever was living inside Danny, even when the party wasn't using it as a cheap way to complete adventures the Elf was nicer, kinder and fun to listen to, with her soft voice always shouting it was hard not to giggle at her.
"THEN AS WE LEAVE THE REAL MAKOR ATTACKS THE FAKE ONE CURRENTLY TRAVELLING WITH US AND IS EASILY DEFEATED." Danny concluded smiling proudly.
Makor looked around the group as for a moment he was sure that his plan had been ruined, they must know, it was just said aloud.
Sim however was fiddling with his lock picks, clearly fully distracted, Feldspar was already in a meditative trance memorising spells.
Bob smiled widely at Makor and Danny before speaking in his native tongue, "What did she say then? Sounded like bad news for you, Feldspar and Sim..."
Makor nodded with a rush of relief as Bob wondered how many more times he could possibly pass that particular lie your face off check. | |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | The miles between them had come and gone, leaving scars and wounds and memories and laughs. The horizon that day was clear, and the world fell into green and yellow, and far away were the mountains, and everything was cloaked in a dream. They had come far. The first peaks of Lankar shimmered in an ephemeral haze.
"We've made it," Keldar said.
"Not yet."
Annastatia was worn, cut and bruised. Her eyes had dimmed some, but even the terrors of the Void had receded for the moment. She was in the present then, looking ahead, same as them all.
None had seen the mountain before. Alton had not believed in it. Haldar had said they would die before they ever crossed the river.
Now he stared with timeless eyes, eyes which had seen things from the Darkness. Eyes which had seen the birth of his kin from the still mirror waters of the Endless Caves. Those eyes had seen more than Haldar could ever have imagined.
"I guess it does exist," Alton said.
He clapped Haldar on the back. An uneasy feeling overcame him with the touch.
*It feels like him,* he thought.
And his thought travelled in the wind of the Void, that invisible world which held all the unknown things, the things that caused madness.
"Yes," Annastatia said.
She looked at Haldar.
"What?" said Keldar.
She shook her head.
They were weary and made camp on the hill. For the days past they had slept during the day, marched in the night. Their bodies were worn and tired, a piece of them all left behind in the Grey River.
*The price was worth it,* Keldar thought.
He was an older man, a knight in youth, and now his world had gone and he was alone but for adventure.
*Is it?*
He could not answer himself and the question lingered, unanswered by even Annastatia. They were quiet there on the hill. Midday came with a scarce lunch and perfunctory talk.
"I've never been so far," said Alton.
They agreed. Home had sunk away like the dying sun, and this endless night of the unknown still had miles yet to go.
"We're alive though," Keldar said.
"Yes," Annastatia said.
They looked at Haldar. Behind those eyes were the midnight of malice. But that malice reflected the sun, and then it was blue and immediate and true.
"I made it," Haldar said. "Barely by the skin of my leather, but I made it."
In the Grey River there were ancient cliffs, hills and holes. There amidst that pocked earth lived the unknown things, the things which embraced the Darkness.
In that place Haldar had fallen into the murky waters of the Grey River and its currents had taken him.
His screams had pierced the Void then, echoing even on the hill they now camped on. Annastatia winced and she saw the time as it floated past in the forever winds of that realm.
"Help!" Haldar cried.
Her hand held her staff. Every inch of her was prepared to hold it for him to grab on to. She saw it happening, feeling his weight and the rescue. And yet she hesitated.
"Help!"
She had remembered the times before. His hand caressing hers, teasing some unwanted strength, threatening in the vaguest of ways. And even then his thoughts were certain of his foul desire.
And so the river had taken him and they all had watched. They had let it happen as the waters surrounded him in an opaque cover, the burial of some unwanted pest, and they feigned the mourning as all good friends should do.
Then they were three.
But he had come back. The first trees were tall and skinny and gave little shade. Their slanting shadows were bars as they passed, looking like prisoners in a dream world, and then from that shifting prison, Haldar had come, wet and worn. The Grey River had taken much from him, he said, and he was different, completely different.
"I left more of my soul there than you," he said.
They looked at him and knew what he was, or what he wasn't. That night they discussed it in secret, and decided they would bide time before doing what must be done.
Three days had passed since then, but that time still had not come.
Sleep overcame them and they rested awhile. The falling sun awoke them to a red and orange sky and their shadows spilled past the hill.
"Statia," Alton said.
He was stretching.
"Yes?"
"I've had a bad dream. Worse than any of the others before."
"Was it of your past? The stealing in your mother's house?"
"No. No it was..."
She saw his face. She touched his head and the after images of the fading dream kindled within her.
Haldar stared beneath a blackened sky, alone and afraid. All around a great water rushed him, surrounding him with its endless sound.
The dream faded and she recoiled.
"I... I have no remedy," she said.
She looked at Haldar. The thing which pretended to be him looked at her and smiled. Though shifters like him were not connected as strongly to the Void, she could feel his thoughts in the air, like some distant food that has long been eaten.
*He means me no malice. Not like his...*
Victim. But she could not say the word.
Keldar walked to Haldar and put his hand on his shoulder.
"How is your wound?"
"Better now," Haldar said.
*He feels the same*, Keldar thought. *He really does.*
Then they packed their things and prepared for another night of walking. Lankar glittered in the night like some crystal, and yet soft as home's bed sheets on a cold night.
"What's there again?" Haldar asked.
He looked at them to see if any suspected. He thought they did. He thought he should kill them, but living in the black had not tainted his heart.
*Never have I seen such beauty as her.*
And in the moonlight Annastatia was some Queen, the kind of which no longer walks this world. Some distant being, ghost-like and tender, and yet strong and hardy with eyes opened into the real world.
*But she is Keldar's.*
And he felt sad. He felt the light on him and looked up.
*I should kill them and have her to myself.*
But she would die first before such things could happen. She would kill him then surely. They already considered the deed. He closed his eyes. The light painted him with a warmth the others could not feel.
*They have not lived in the dark,* he thought. *They are human. Weak and ignorant of the Dark, for they know not of such things.*
"Lankar," Alton said. "The mountain of Dreams. There, as legend goes, is the Spring of Dreaming. One sip of its water will change you. It will make whatever is in your heart come true."
"It can change the world physically?"
"No," said Annastatia. "But it will change *you*. It will change the spirit so that what you hold dearest will come true in a way of its own. It is not a place of wishes."
"It is like the Grey River then?" Haldar asked.
"Yes, in a sense. But it does not take. It gives and cleanses."
Then they were quiet. In their hearts they were uneasy. Haldar's death weighed immensely on them.
*The Spring will clean me,* Keldar thought.
Annastatia held him. Her face was pretty in the white light and he looked at her and loved her anew once more. He put his arm around her.
*I am an evil man,* he thought.
She looked at him with those sad eyes of hers.
*If that be true, then so are we all my love.*
He squeezed her hand.
*What hope is there then? This guilt weighs too heavy on me.*
*The Spring, as you've thought. The Spring is our only hope. Haldar was a fool. The River took him of its own choosing. His heart was black, blacker than this imposter.*
"I like you," Alton said to Haldar. "I don't know if you understand, but I'll be truthful. I like you."
And Haldar, the thing, understood as much. It too had thoughts that raged in an incomprehensible storm.
"I like you too," he said. "All of you."
"Then may the Spring save us," Keldar said.
And they marched in silence as the night slowly passed.
-
*Hi there! If you liked this story, please consider my subreddit r/PanMan. It has all my WP stories as well as some original ones. I'm slowly working on it and getting it to look nicer, so I promise it will look better soon. Thank you!* | "GREETINGS FELLOW ADVENTURING HUMANS!" Boomed the voice of Danny the Elf sat bolt upright from the sleeping cloth sack she had been in, causing Bob the Barbarian to grunt and curl up under his animal hide sleeping rug again.
"IT IS I, YOUR GOOD FRIEND DAN, I AM UNHARMED AFTER MY ENCOUNTER WITH THE DAEMON!" She continued smiling oddly, her mouth breaking into a wide grin with teeth and her eyebrows actually elevating.
"Dann...." Feldspar the half-elf warlock managed to stop himself from saying Danny, "You told us this before, remember?"
Danny the Elf blinked, everything was always so terribly confusing, having come from a dimension that didn't have time it had to learn about things happening and things that had happened, Makor the Cleric had helped with that, teaching the snow elf about how things happen and can't be changed but things that haven't happened yet can be altered.
"OH YES FRIEND!" Danny laughed as if it was a running joke, Sim the halfling thief/bard laughed a little as well in sympathy or perhaps enjoyment.
"WHERE ARE WE GOING TODAY? WILL THERE BE MORE EXCELLENT FERMENTED YEAST PRODUCTS TO CONSUME?"
Makor nodded slowly, "That's right Dan, more beer at the end of the adventure, now how did we get back the entrance avoiding the dragon, getting the treasure and nobody getting hurt?"
"OF COURSE FRIEND! THIS IS A THING THAT HAPPENED ALREADY AFTER ALL!" Danny confirmed with the group as each of them nodded in agreement pressing in to listen carefully to Danny.
"FIRSTLY, WE LEFT THE ROOM BY THE SOUTH ENTRANCE, SIM DISABLED THE PIT TRAP AFTER FALLING INTO IT AND DYING THE FIRST TIME HE TRIED." Danny started to explain.
Sim frowned a little looking towards the South entrance, he'd died; again, if 'Dan' hadn't told him about the pit trap or the acid or the undercooked chicken or ... he was incredibly glad that 'Dan' had changed so dramatically since that encounter with the demon.
"THE TREASURE IS MOSTLY CURSED AND FELDSPAR CHANGED INTO A SHEEP WHEN HE PICKED UP A STAFF THEN A STATUE AS HE TOUCHED THE CURSED DIAMOND AS LARGE AS HIS FIST AND THEN WAS KILLED AS HE PICKED UP A CROWN." Danny continued as Feldspar took careful notes, the warlock couldn't remember the last time he'd bothered to cast identification or detect item status.
Feldspar liked whatever was living inside Danny, even when the party wasn't using it as a cheap way to complete adventures the Elf was nicer, kinder and fun to listen to, with her soft voice always shouting it was hard not to giggle at her.
"THEN AS WE LEAVE THE REAL MAKOR ATTACKS THE FAKE ONE CURRENTLY TRAVELLING WITH US AND IS EASILY DEFEATED." Danny concluded smiling proudly.
Makor looked around the group as for a moment he was sure that his plan had been ruined, they must know, it was just said aloud.
Sim however was fiddling with his lock picks, clearly fully distracted, Feldspar was already in a meditative trance memorising spells.
Bob smiled widely at Makor and Danny before speaking in his native tongue, "What did she say then? Sounded like bad news for you, Feldspar and Sim..."
Makor nodded with a rush of relief as Bob wondered how many more times he could possibly pass that particular lie your face off check. | |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | "That was..." Brawg began, staggering over the bodies of the fallen goblins, his boots squelching in the treacle-like blood.
"Far too..." said Vesperr, returning her bow to her back, and beginning to pluck out arrows from the deceased enemies.
"Oxyrin!" finished Oxyrin, his pointed hat falling over his eyes once again. Dribble oozed down from his mouth and his pupils spun this way and that, as if two compasses confused by magnets.
Brawg and Vesperr looked at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing. Brawg brought a thunderous hand down on the wizard's back. "Don't ever change, Oxyrin!" he said.
"Oh, Oxyrin," grinned Vesperr, "you're the reason we do this, you know? For that smile on your face." She wiped away a the spittle from his lips, then shook her finger, sending the spit plopping onto the ground.
"Oxyrin!" Oxyrin repeated. A pointed tongue darted out of his mouth and latched onto a fly that was hovering over a brutalised body below.
"I'm going to pretend I didn't just see that," said Brawg with a wink. "Okay gang, I'd say we're all done here. I believe its time to go collect our reward."
"Not so fast, my friends," came a mysterious voice from behind them. Only, when they turned, there was *nothing* behind them.
Slowly, the blue-robed wizard hazed into existence. "It is I, the *real* Oxyrin! I have been trapped for the longest time, but I have finally outsmarted my captors and have returned to my friends. For no one is as clever as the Great Oxyrin!"
Brawg and Vesperr glanced at each other, then let out a joint gasp.
"Quite you might gasp," said Oxyrin, as he turned and pointed an accusing finger at the other blue wizard, who was now on all fours chasing after a spider. "For that fellow, has fooled you, my dear friends. But he is nothing more than an impostor! A Doppelganger! A fake, a fraud, and dare I say it, a phoney."
Brawg nudged Vesperr and they both gasped again.
"How.. erm, how can we believe you?" asked Vesperr, her top lip wet with nervous sweat. "How do we know he--"she pointed to the to the wizard, who was now chewing on something--"isn't the real Oxyrin. After all, he would have had to fool us both for two entire years."
Oxyrin rolled his eyes. "Hardly a challenging task. You two never were the"--his hands burst into blue flames--"brightest sparks. Ha. Hahaha."
Brawg's muscles tensed. Vesperr put a hand against his chest.
"That's not proof enough. For our Oxyrin can also do such petty parlour tricks."
"Very well," Oxyrin sighed, "I shall prove it. We shall have a wizard-off."
"Smart," said Vesperr. She let out a high pitched whistle, at which the other Oxyrin came bounding over to her.
"Oxyrin!" he sputtered as he arrived.
"Is that all he can say? How could you *possibly* believe he was me?"
"Good point," said Brawg. "His vocabulary is much larger."
"Oh. You made a joke. How very amusing."
"Okay," said Vesperr. "Round one of the wizard-off. *Shape-shifting.*"
"What? What a stupid round," complained Oxyrin, "for sniffing out a shape-shifter!" His face was red and a vein popped out of his forehead, pulsating like waves on the ocean. "Unbelievable idiocy. How you have possibly survived this long without me to guide you -- heaven only knows!"
"Oxyrin!" replied the other Oxyrin.
"Well, if you can't do it and he can..." said Brawg shrugging, "then I guess we know who the real wizard is."
"Oh... *pish!* Very well. And what must we change into, pray tell?"
"Something very small. To really challenge your morphitisation skills. A fly. Simple. First one to transform into a fly wins."
"Sala kazoo, Sala kazam!" shouted Oxyrin. There was a puff of smoke that left Vesperr and Brawg coughing. As it cleared, and only for the briefest moment, they saw a fly. Then, they saw a huge, pointed tongue. Finally, they saw an Oxyrin chewing on and then swallowing *something*.
"Oxyrin!" he shouted triumphantly, as Brawg and Vesperr collapsed into a fit of laughter.
"Oh Oxyrin," said Brawg, slapping him on the back "you really are too much."
"And," said Vesperr, "we wouldn't have it any other way!"
| "GREETINGS FELLOW ADVENTURING HUMANS!" Boomed the voice of Danny the Elf sat bolt upright from the sleeping cloth sack she had been in, causing Bob the Barbarian to grunt and curl up under his animal hide sleeping rug again.
"IT IS I, YOUR GOOD FRIEND DAN, I AM UNHARMED AFTER MY ENCOUNTER WITH THE DAEMON!" She continued smiling oddly, her mouth breaking into a wide grin with teeth and her eyebrows actually elevating.
"Dann...." Feldspar the half-elf warlock managed to stop himself from saying Danny, "You told us this before, remember?"
Danny the Elf blinked, everything was always so terribly confusing, having come from a dimension that didn't have time it had to learn about things happening and things that had happened, Makor the Cleric had helped with that, teaching the snow elf about how things happen and can't be changed but things that haven't happened yet can be altered.
"OH YES FRIEND!" Danny laughed as if it was a running joke, Sim the halfling thief/bard laughed a little as well in sympathy or perhaps enjoyment.
"WHERE ARE WE GOING TODAY? WILL THERE BE MORE EXCELLENT FERMENTED YEAST PRODUCTS TO CONSUME?"
Makor nodded slowly, "That's right Dan, more beer at the end of the adventure, now how did we get back the entrance avoiding the dragon, getting the treasure and nobody getting hurt?"
"OF COURSE FRIEND! THIS IS A THING THAT HAPPENED ALREADY AFTER ALL!" Danny confirmed with the group as each of them nodded in agreement pressing in to listen carefully to Danny.
"FIRSTLY, WE LEFT THE ROOM BY THE SOUTH ENTRANCE, SIM DISABLED THE PIT TRAP AFTER FALLING INTO IT AND DYING THE FIRST TIME HE TRIED." Danny started to explain.
Sim frowned a little looking towards the South entrance, he'd died; again, if 'Dan' hadn't told him about the pit trap or the acid or the undercooked chicken or ... he was incredibly glad that 'Dan' had changed so dramatically since that encounter with the demon.
"THE TREASURE IS MOSTLY CURSED AND FELDSPAR CHANGED INTO A SHEEP WHEN HE PICKED UP A STAFF THEN A STATUE AS HE TOUCHED THE CURSED DIAMOND AS LARGE AS HIS FIST AND THEN WAS KILLED AS HE PICKED UP A CROWN." Danny continued as Feldspar took careful notes, the warlock couldn't remember the last time he'd bothered to cast identification or detect item status.
Feldspar liked whatever was living inside Danny, even when the party wasn't using it as a cheap way to complete adventures the Elf was nicer, kinder and fun to listen to, with her soft voice always shouting it was hard not to giggle at her.
"THEN AS WE LEAVE THE REAL MAKOR ATTACKS THE FAKE ONE CURRENTLY TRAVELLING WITH US AND IS EASILY DEFEATED." Danny concluded smiling proudly.
Makor looked around the group as for a moment he was sure that his plan had been ruined, they must know, it was just said aloud.
Sim however was fiddling with his lock picks, clearly fully distracted, Feldspar was already in a meditative trance memorising spells.
Bob smiled widely at Makor and Danny before speaking in his native tongue, "What did she say then? Sounded like bad news for you, Feldspar and Sim..."
Makor nodded with a rush of relief as Bob wondered how many more times he could possibly pass that particular lie your face off check. | |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | "A fine...mead?!" Rorik shouts over the din of the tavern. His companions smile and nod along with him as he sings some old barbarian tune.
Sings it wrong. They don't tell him that though.
Delia, the group's cleric leans over to their mage.
"Do you think he knows?"
Melvar just shakes his head and holds out a palm towards their massive friend. Friend as of lately, of course. Rorik was a massive pain for the group long before the shifter stole his face.
"He definitely doesn't but...I think I like him. Rorik was a bit of a jerk, always running off into the dungeons with that stupid battlecry. Remember when we went into the Crypt of Alohar, how many good people did he get killed?"
"Yeah...he's kinda cute now. Like a child or something."
They both watch Rorik move around the tavern with his mug and talk to other groups of adventurers. He's loud but not overbearing. He listens to the stories of others instead of telling his own. He drinks but not to excess. He is nothing like the barbarian they all had come to know and...
Melvar doesn't quite finish the thought.
"You know what Del, I like him. I know he's a shifter but look at everyone. We all know and he's trying so hard to be like Rorik but he just can't. I don't think there's a mean bone in that thing's body. You know that he hasn't made fun of my beard once, not in months."
She snorts. The young mage was trying so hard to grow it out and he'd been self-conscious about it for months.
A warrior passing by their table to his own party leans over and whispers it to the pair.
"You should keep him. He's an improvement."
"Friends!" Rorik shouts, sitting again at their table, "What fun! And we do this between every adventure? And people give us gold to go on those adventures? To spend here? Amazing!"
He is off again before they can even respond.
"Do you think The Dwarf knows?" Melvar watches Rorik join another random group of adventures and sing yet another song. Still wrong.
Delia shrugs.
"I don't know and I don't care. We're gonna keep him. He's like a dog or something. But useful."
Melvar strokes his "beard" for a moment.
"Alright, we'll keep him. But I swear if he ever makes fun of my beard-"
"What? You'll strangle him with one of your wisps? You should really shave, you're looking more like a magical hobo than a wizard. 'I cast: smell of unwashedness!'"
As she walks away laughing at her own joke Melvar narrows his eyes. He lifts his mug and mutters something into it before drinking.
"I'll replace you too if I have to..." | "GREETINGS FELLOW ADVENTURING HUMANS!" Boomed the voice of Danny the Elf sat bolt upright from the sleeping cloth sack she had been in, causing Bob the Barbarian to grunt and curl up under his animal hide sleeping rug again.
"IT IS I, YOUR GOOD FRIEND DAN, I AM UNHARMED AFTER MY ENCOUNTER WITH THE DAEMON!" She continued smiling oddly, her mouth breaking into a wide grin with teeth and her eyebrows actually elevating.
"Dann...." Feldspar the half-elf warlock managed to stop himself from saying Danny, "You told us this before, remember?"
Danny the Elf blinked, everything was always so terribly confusing, having come from a dimension that didn't have time it had to learn about things happening and things that had happened, Makor the Cleric had helped with that, teaching the snow elf about how things happen and can't be changed but things that haven't happened yet can be altered.
"OH YES FRIEND!" Danny laughed as if it was a running joke, Sim the halfling thief/bard laughed a little as well in sympathy or perhaps enjoyment.
"WHERE ARE WE GOING TODAY? WILL THERE BE MORE EXCELLENT FERMENTED YEAST PRODUCTS TO CONSUME?"
Makor nodded slowly, "That's right Dan, more beer at the end of the adventure, now how did we get back the entrance avoiding the dragon, getting the treasure and nobody getting hurt?"
"OF COURSE FRIEND! THIS IS A THING THAT HAPPENED ALREADY AFTER ALL!" Danny confirmed with the group as each of them nodded in agreement pressing in to listen carefully to Danny.
"FIRSTLY, WE LEFT THE ROOM BY THE SOUTH ENTRANCE, SIM DISABLED THE PIT TRAP AFTER FALLING INTO IT AND DYING THE FIRST TIME HE TRIED." Danny started to explain.
Sim frowned a little looking towards the South entrance, he'd died; again, if 'Dan' hadn't told him about the pit trap or the acid or the undercooked chicken or ... he was incredibly glad that 'Dan' had changed so dramatically since that encounter with the demon.
"THE TREASURE IS MOSTLY CURSED AND FELDSPAR CHANGED INTO A SHEEP WHEN HE PICKED UP A STAFF THEN A STATUE AS HE TOUCHED THE CURSED DIAMOND AS LARGE AS HIS FIST AND THEN WAS KILLED AS HE PICKED UP A CROWN." Danny continued as Feldspar took careful notes, the warlock couldn't remember the last time he'd bothered to cast identification or detect item status.
Feldspar liked whatever was living inside Danny, even when the party wasn't using it as a cheap way to complete adventures the Elf was nicer, kinder and fun to listen to, with her soft voice always shouting it was hard not to giggle at her.
"THEN AS WE LEAVE THE REAL MAKOR ATTACKS THE FAKE ONE CURRENTLY TRAVELLING WITH US AND IS EASILY DEFEATED." Danny concluded smiling proudly.
Makor looked around the group as for a moment he was sure that his plan had been ruined, they must know, it was just said aloud.
Sim however was fiddling with his lock picks, clearly fully distracted, Feldspar was already in a meditative trance memorising spells.
Bob smiled widely at Makor and Danny before speaking in his native tongue, "What did she say then? Sounded like bad news for you, Feldspar and Sim..."
Makor nodded with a rush of relief as Bob wondered how many more times he could possibly pass that particular lie your face off check. | |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | Theldon – or at least the creature that was wearing his face – looked pale in the light of the campfire. As the wood crackled and burned, he chewed his lower lip, gathering his courage to speak.
“Guys … I … I have something to tell you,” he managed.
His three traveling companions looked at him. Vanariel snapped her spellbook shut and drew her staff. “What is it? An ambush? I told you guys I saw goblin-sign back there!”
“No, no! Not goblins!” Theldon said, holding his hands out. “It’s … it’s about me.”
Shiny Pete smirked. “What? You got the whore’s itch or something? Nothing to be ashamed of, buddy. Happened to us all once or twice.”
Dagmar glowered at the rogue from under bushy eyebrows. “Or mayhap a good number of times more than that.”
“No! It's not a disease either! It’s just …” Theldon took a deep breath. “Guys … I’m … I’m a doppelganger."
The three of them shared a long look, and then Vanariel and Shiny Pete burst out laughing. Dagmar’s glower deepened. “That’s no’ funny, lad,” he growled.
Vanariel and Shiny Pete stopped laughing. “Wait, wait,” the rogue said, “Dagmar, you didn’t *know?*”
Theldon looked shocked. “Wait, you guys *knew?*”
The elven woman tittered. “You’re not the shapeshifter you think you are. The real Theldon was an asshole.”
“Total dickwad,” Shiny Pete agreed. “In, like, every conceivable way.”
Dagmar leapt to his feet, drawing his axe. “You mean this is no’ a joke?” he roared, advancing on Theldon. “Die, fiend!”
As one, Vanariel and Shiny Pete placed themselves between the enraged dwarf and the doppleganger. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Shiny Pete yelled. “This might not be the original Theldon, but he’s been with us for almost a year now. He was the guy who stood over you after you got paralyzed by a ghoul.”
“He took point when we fought that dragon,” Vanariel continued.
“Hell, he got in the face of evil sorcerer while you were busy chopping up his henchmen,” Shiny Pete added.
“Those henchmen represented a serious threat!” Dagmar retorted, “And it was no' like it was a full-grown dragon. Only a wee one!”
In unison, Valariel and Shiny Pete rolled their eyes. Dagmar glowered some more. He was good at it, and he liked to play to his strengths. At last the dwarf made a humphing noise and lowered his axe. Valariel sat down and opened her spellbook again. “Okay, that’s over right? We can get back to the adventuring?”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Pete said. Dagmar only grunted.
“Did you guys really know?” Theldon asked, still somewhat wary of the dwarf.
“Oh, yeah. I mean, it was kind of suspicious how he was dying of jungle rot one day and completely fine the next. But you’re really not much like the original Theldon at all. First of all, you’re actually useful in combat. And second of all, you’re a decent guy. I mean, I can have an ale with you and not worry that you’re going to stiff me on the check,” Pete said.
“Or stare at my tits while I’m trancing. Or grab my ass when I’m trying to brew potions,” Vanariel added. “And the ear jokes. Ugh, the original Theldon was such a creep. Why did we even keep him around?”
"Good question," Pete said. "I mean, I asked myself that a bunch of times after we got new Theldon. 'Why did we even keep that tool around in the first place?'"
“So you guys don’t even care that I’m a shapeshifter?”
“Not really, no,” Pete said. “I worked with lots of different people when I was in the Thieves’ Guild. Changelings weren’t any more likely to try killing me in my sleep than humans or half-elves. In my experience, everyone’s pretty human when you get down to it.”
“Hey! Speak for yourself, round-ears,” Vanariel said with half of a smile. “But nevertheless, I agree with the sentiment.”
“Oh,” Theldon said. He sat in own thoughts for a moment. “Thanks, guys. That means a lot to me.”
“Don’t mention it,” Pete said, and Vanariel nodded in agreement.
The evening passed in silence. Shiny Pete honed his daggers, and Vanariel memorized her spells. Dagmar and Theldon each sat in silence, alone with his thoughts.
At last the dwarf spoke. “Lad,” he asked the doppleganger, “have you ever tried maybe not being a shapeshifter?”
| "GREETINGS FELLOW ADVENTURING HUMANS!" Boomed the voice of Danny the Elf sat bolt upright from the sleeping cloth sack she had been in, causing Bob the Barbarian to grunt and curl up under his animal hide sleeping rug again.
"IT IS I, YOUR GOOD FRIEND DAN, I AM UNHARMED AFTER MY ENCOUNTER WITH THE DAEMON!" She continued smiling oddly, her mouth breaking into a wide grin with teeth and her eyebrows actually elevating.
"Dann...." Feldspar the half-elf warlock managed to stop himself from saying Danny, "You told us this before, remember?"
Danny the Elf blinked, everything was always so terribly confusing, having come from a dimension that didn't have time it had to learn about things happening and things that had happened, Makor the Cleric had helped with that, teaching the snow elf about how things happen and can't be changed but things that haven't happened yet can be altered.
"OH YES FRIEND!" Danny laughed as if it was a running joke, Sim the halfling thief/bard laughed a little as well in sympathy or perhaps enjoyment.
"WHERE ARE WE GOING TODAY? WILL THERE BE MORE EXCELLENT FERMENTED YEAST PRODUCTS TO CONSUME?"
Makor nodded slowly, "That's right Dan, more beer at the end of the adventure, now how did we get back the entrance avoiding the dragon, getting the treasure and nobody getting hurt?"
"OF COURSE FRIEND! THIS IS A THING THAT HAPPENED ALREADY AFTER ALL!" Danny confirmed with the group as each of them nodded in agreement pressing in to listen carefully to Danny.
"FIRSTLY, WE LEFT THE ROOM BY THE SOUTH ENTRANCE, SIM DISABLED THE PIT TRAP AFTER FALLING INTO IT AND DYING THE FIRST TIME HE TRIED." Danny started to explain.
Sim frowned a little looking towards the South entrance, he'd died; again, if 'Dan' hadn't told him about the pit trap or the acid or the undercooked chicken or ... he was incredibly glad that 'Dan' had changed so dramatically since that encounter with the demon.
"THE TREASURE IS MOSTLY CURSED AND FELDSPAR CHANGED INTO A SHEEP WHEN HE PICKED UP A STAFF THEN A STATUE AS HE TOUCHED THE CURSED DIAMOND AS LARGE AS HIS FIST AND THEN WAS KILLED AS HE PICKED UP A CROWN." Danny continued as Feldspar took careful notes, the warlock couldn't remember the last time he'd bothered to cast identification or detect item status.
Feldspar liked whatever was living inside Danny, even when the party wasn't using it as a cheap way to complete adventures the Elf was nicer, kinder and fun to listen to, with her soft voice always shouting it was hard not to giggle at her.
"THEN AS WE LEAVE THE REAL MAKOR ATTACKS THE FAKE ONE CURRENTLY TRAVELLING WITH US AND IS EASILY DEFEATED." Danny concluded smiling proudly.
Makor looked around the group as for a moment he was sure that his plan had been ruined, they must know, it was just said aloud.
Sim however was fiddling with his lock picks, clearly fully distracted, Feldspar was already in a meditative trance memorising spells.
Bob smiled widely at Makor and Danny before speaking in his native tongue, "What did she say then? Sounded like bad news for you, Feldspar and Sim..."
Makor nodded with a rush of relief as Bob wondered how many more times he could possibly pass that particular lie your face off check. | |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | Theldon – or at least the creature that was wearing his face – looked pale in the light of the campfire. As the wood crackled and burned, he chewed his lower lip, gathering his courage to speak.
“Guys … I … I have something to tell you,” he managed.
His three traveling companions looked at him. Vanariel snapped her spellbook shut and drew her staff. “What is it? An ambush? I told you guys I saw goblin-sign back there!”
“No, no! Not goblins!” Theldon said, holding his hands out. “It’s … it’s about me.”
Shiny Pete smirked. “What? You got the whore’s itch or something? Nothing to be ashamed of, buddy. Happened to us all once or twice.”
Dagmar glowered at the rogue from under bushy eyebrows. “Or mayhap a good number of times more than that.”
“No! It's not a disease either! It’s just …” Theldon took a deep breath. “Guys … I’m … I’m a doppelganger."
The three of them shared a long look, and then Vanariel and Shiny Pete burst out laughing. Dagmar’s glower deepened. “That’s no’ funny, lad,” he growled.
Vanariel and Shiny Pete stopped laughing. “Wait, wait,” the rogue said, “Dagmar, you didn’t *know?*”
Theldon looked shocked. “Wait, you guys *knew?*”
The elven woman tittered. “You’re not the shapeshifter you think you are. The real Theldon was an asshole.”
“Total dickwad,” Shiny Pete agreed. “In, like, every conceivable way.”
Dagmar leapt to his feet, drawing his axe. “You mean this is no’ a joke?” he roared, advancing on Theldon. “Die, fiend!”
As one, Vanariel and Shiny Pete placed themselves between the enraged dwarf and the doppleganger. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Shiny Pete yelled. “This might not be the original Theldon, but he’s been with us for almost a year now. He was the guy who stood over you after you got paralyzed by a ghoul.”
“He took point when we fought that dragon,” Vanariel continued.
“Hell, he got in the face of evil sorcerer while you were busy chopping up his henchmen,” Shiny Pete added.
“Those henchmen represented a serious threat!” Dagmar retorted, “And it was no' like it was a full-grown dragon. Only a wee one!”
In unison, Valariel and Shiny Pete rolled their eyes. Dagmar glowered some more. He was good at it, and he liked to play to his strengths. At last the dwarf made a humphing noise and lowered his axe. Valariel sat down and opened her spellbook again. “Okay, that’s over right? We can get back to the adventuring?”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Pete said. Dagmar only grunted.
“Did you guys really know?” Theldon asked, still somewhat wary of the dwarf.
“Oh, yeah. I mean, it was kind of suspicious how he was dying of jungle rot one day and completely fine the next. But you’re really not much like the original Theldon at all. First of all, you’re actually useful in combat. And second of all, you’re a decent guy. I mean, I can have an ale with you and not worry that you’re going to stiff me on the check,” Pete said.
“Or stare at my tits while I’m trancing. Or grab my ass when I’m trying to brew potions,” Vanariel added. “And the ear jokes. Ugh, the original Theldon was such a creep. Why did we even keep him around?”
"Good question," Pete said. "I mean, I asked myself that a bunch of times after we got new Theldon. 'Why did we even keep that tool around in the first place?'"
“So you guys don’t even care that I’m a shapeshifter?”
“Not really, no,” Pete said. “I worked with lots of different people when I was in the Thieves’ Guild. Changelings weren’t any more likely to try killing me in my sleep than humans or half-elves. In my experience, everyone’s pretty human when you get down to it.”
“Hey! Speak for yourself, round-ears,” Vanariel said with half of a smile. “But nevertheless, I agree with the sentiment.”
“Oh,” Theldon said. He sat in own thoughts for a moment. “Thanks, guys. That means a lot to me.”
“Don’t mention it,” Pete said, and Vanariel nodded in agreement.
The evening passed in silence. Shiny Pete honed his daggers, and Vanariel memorized her spells. Dagmar and Theldon each sat in silence, alone with his thoughts.
At last the dwarf spoke. “Lad,” he asked the doppleganger, “have you ever tried maybe not being a shapeshifter?”
| Theldon – or at least the creature that was wearing his face – looked pale in the light of the campfire. As the wood crackled and burned, he chewed his lower lip, gathering his courage to speak.
“Guys … I … I have something to tell you,” he managed.
His three traveling companions looked at him. Vanariel snapped her spellbook shut and drew her staff. “What is it? An ambush? I told you guys I saw goblin-sign back there!”
“No, no! Not goblins!” Theldon said, holding his hands out. “It’s … it’s about me.”
Shiny Pete smirked. “What? You got the whore’s itch or something? Nothing to be ashamed of, buddy. Happened to us all once or twice.”
Dagmar glowered at the rogue from under bushy eyebrows. “Or mayhap a good number of times more than that.”
“No! It's not a disease either! It’s just …” Theldon took a deep breath. “Guys … I’m … I’m a doppelganger."
The three of them shared a long look, and then Vanariel and Shiny Pete burst out laughing. Dagmar’s glower deepened. “That’s no’ funny, lad,” he growled.
Vanariel and Shiny Pete stopped laughing. “Wait, wait,” the rogue said, “Dagmar, you didn’t *know?*”
Theldon looked shocked. “Wait, you guys *knew?*”
The elven woman tittered. “You’re not the shapeshifter you think you are. The real Theldon was an asshole.”
“Total dickwad,” Shiny Pete agreed. “In, like, every conceivable way.”
Dagmar leapt to his feet, drawing his axe. “You mean this is no’ a joke?” he roared, advancing on Theldon. “Die, fiend!”
As one, Vanariel and Shiny Pete placed themselves between the enraged dwarf and the doppleganger. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Shiny Pete yelled. “This might not be the original Theldon, but he’s been with us for almost a year now. He was the guy who stood over you after you got paralyzed by a ghoul.”
“He took point when we fought that dragon,” Vanariel continued.
“Hell, he got in the face of evil sorcerer while you were busy chopping up his henchmen,” Shiny Pete added.
“Those henchmen represented a serious threat!” Dagmar retorted, “And it was no' like it was a full-grown dragon. Only a wee one!”
In unison, Valariel and Shiny Pete rolled their eyes. Dagmar glowered some more. He was good at it, and he liked to play to his strengths. At last the dwarf made a humphing noise and lowered his axe. Valariel sat down and opened her spellbook again. “Okay, that’s over right? We can get back to the adventuring?”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Pete said. Dagmar only grunted.
“Did you guys really know?” Theldon asked, still somewhat wary of the dwarf.
“Oh, yeah. I mean, it was kind of suspicious how he was dying of jungle rot one day and completely fine the next. But you’re really not much like the original Theldon at all. First of all, you’re actually useful in combat. And second of all, you’re a decent guy. I mean, I can have an ale with you and not worry that you’re going to stiff me on the check,” Pete said.
“Or stare at my tits while I’m trancing. Or grab my ass when I’m trying to brew potions,” Vanariel added. “And the ear jokes. Ugh, the original Theldon was such a creep. Why did we even keep him around?”
"Good question," Pete said. "I mean, I asked myself that a bunch of times after we got new Theldon. 'Why did we even keep that tool around in the first place?'"
“So you guys don’t even care that I’m a shapeshifter?”
“Not really, no,” Pete said. “I worked with lots of different people when I was in the Thieves’ Guild. Changelings weren’t any more likely to try killing me in my sleep than humans or half-elves. In my experience, everyone’s pretty human when you get down to it.”
“Hey! Speak for yourself, round-ears,” Vanariel said with half of a smile. “But nevertheless, I agree with the sentiment.”
“Oh,” Theldon said. He sat in own thoughts for a moment. “Thanks, guys. That means a lot to me.”
“Don’t mention it,” Pete said, and Vanariel nodded in agreement.
The evening passed in silence. Shiny Pete honed his daggers, and Vanariel memorized her spells. Dagmar and Theldon each sat in silence, alone with his thoughts.
At last the dwarf spoke. “Lad,” he asked the doppleganger, “have you ever tried maybe not being a shapeshifter?”
| |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | Approaching the city gate, the adventurers stiffen as the guards halt their way. Of course, Mr. Nobility has to be the one to step forward and speak for the group. Marian lightly touches her bow, prepared to ready an arrow if her arrogant companion gets them into trouble again.
"Greetings, my good men. My name is Hector of the house Rellon. Do you happen to have any directions for a band of weary travelers? We seek no conflict, only a comfortable place to rest for the night."
Sora and Fiera share a look. The last time they entered a new city, he tried to march right past the guards, drawing his sword when they stopped him. They had to find accommodations in a dingy little inn outside the city gates, where the other patrons all gave the distinct impression of being criminals.
Now, though, one guard obligingly gave them directions, and Hector... Hector actually thanked him, and clapped his back like they were old friends. The guard laughed cheerfully and sent them on their way. This was wrong. Hector didn't have friends. He didn't make friends. The only reason his companions hadn't booted him was his skill in combat, which had just barely saved them from more problems than his personality had gotten them into.
That night, as Hector remained in the common room to buy another round for the crowd... an unusual act of generosity... the others gathered in the private room they'd booked.
"Do you remember earlier today, when he left to investigate that noise in the trees?" Asked Sora.
Marian nodded. "But there was nothing there."
"I know," said Sora, "But what if he lied?"
"You think he could be under someone's control?" Fiera chimed in. "I could dispel any magic that might be around him."
Sora shook his head. "I don't think it's control. He hasn't hurt us or been irrational. He's just... *different*. I think he's been replaced."
"That's pretty far-fetched." Marian's voice was skeptical.
"It's happened before," said Sora. "Not all shapeshifters are evil. Some of them just want a safe group to live among. A family. Like what we are to Hector, even though he's an asshole who doesn't deserve us."
Fiera narrowed her eyes. "How do you know so much about shapeshifters?"
Sora sighed. It was time to come clean. "Because I'm one of them. You guys didn't know the real Sora. He tried to raid my nest. Would have gotten a good part of my family killed, as well as his whole group, if I hadn't taken his place. Foolhardy bastard. His friends figured me out, though. I barely escaped, and by then I was used to this form."
"No." Fiera shook her head. "You can't just replace people. The real Hector..."
"The real Hector didn't give a toss about any of us," said Marian. "Do you really think he's worth our compassion? When was the last time he extended any to you?"
Fiera was quiet for a minute, remembering the time she'd broken a leg fighting a troll. And Hector elected to carry the troll's treasure chest out of the dungeon, leaving her to hobble after him using a giant club as a makeshift crutch. "I guess if this shapeshifter is anything like you, Sora, it's probably an improvement."
"I know I was," commented Marian. "My new parents must have known something was different, but the family got along so much better with me in her place that they never questioned it."
Fiera stood from her chair, backing toward the door. "Are you shapeshifters going to replace everybody?"
"No," said Sora and Marian simultaneously.
Sora continued. "You're a good person, Fiera. We only take the place of assholes. People whose absence would actually improve things. For everybody, not just those of us who can change our form. Trust me, Fiera." He smiled, the friendly expression that Fiera had come to find reassuring after the years they'd spent together. "You have nothing to worry about."
Edit: typo | Theldon – or at least the creature that was wearing his face – looked pale in the light of the campfire. As the wood crackled and burned, he chewed his lower lip, gathering his courage to speak.
“Guys … I … I have something to tell you,” he managed.
His three traveling companions looked at him. Vanariel snapped her spellbook shut and drew her staff. “What is it? An ambush? I told you guys I saw goblin-sign back there!”
“No, no! Not goblins!” Theldon said, holding his hands out. “It’s … it’s about me.”
Shiny Pete smirked. “What? You got the whore’s itch or something? Nothing to be ashamed of, buddy. Happened to us all once or twice.”
Dagmar glowered at the rogue from under bushy eyebrows. “Or mayhap a good number of times more than that.”
“No! It's not a disease either! It’s just …” Theldon took a deep breath. “Guys … I’m … I’m a doppelganger."
The three of them shared a long look, and then Vanariel and Shiny Pete burst out laughing. Dagmar’s glower deepened. “That’s no’ funny, lad,” he growled.
Vanariel and Shiny Pete stopped laughing. “Wait, wait,” the rogue said, “Dagmar, you didn’t *know?*”
Theldon looked shocked. “Wait, you guys *knew?*”
The elven woman tittered. “You’re not the shapeshifter you think you are. The real Theldon was an asshole.”
“Total dickwad,” Shiny Pete agreed. “In, like, every conceivable way.”
Dagmar leapt to his feet, drawing his axe. “You mean this is no’ a joke?” he roared, advancing on Theldon. “Die, fiend!”
As one, Vanariel and Shiny Pete placed themselves between the enraged dwarf and the doppleganger. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Shiny Pete yelled. “This might not be the original Theldon, but he’s been with us for almost a year now. He was the guy who stood over you after you got paralyzed by a ghoul.”
“He took point when we fought that dragon,” Vanariel continued.
“Hell, he got in the face of evil sorcerer while you were busy chopping up his henchmen,” Shiny Pete added.
“Those henchmen represented a serious threat!” Dagmar retorted, “And it was no' like it was a full-grown dragon. Only a wee one!”
In unison, Valariel and Shiny Pete rolled their eyes. Dagmar glowered some more. He was good at it, and he liked to play to his strengths. At last the dwarf made a humphing noise and lowered his axe. Valariel sat down and opened her spellbook again. “Okay, that’s over right? We can get back to the adventuring?”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Pete said. Dagmar only grunted.
“Did you guys really know?” Theldon asked, still somewhat wary of the dwarf.
“Oh, yeah. I mean, it was kind of suspicious how he was dying of jungle rot one day and completely fine the next. But you’re really not much like the original Theldon at all. First of all, you’re actually useful in combat. And second of all, you’re a decent guy. I mean, I can have an ale with you and not worry that you’re going to stiff me on the check,” Pete said.
“Or stare at my tits while I’m trancing. Or grab my ass when I’m trying to brew potions,” Vanariel added. “And the ear jokes. Ugh, the original Theldon was such a creep. Why did we even keep him around?”
"Good question," Pete said. "I mean, I asked myself that a bunch of times after we got new Theldon. 'Why did we even keep that tool around in the first place?'"
“So you guys don’t even care that I’m a shapeshifter?”
“Not really, no,” Pete said. “I worked with lots of different people when I was in the Thieves’ Guild. Changelings weren’t any more likely to try killing me in my sleep than humans or half-elves. In my experience, everyone’s pretty human when you get down to it.”
“Hey! Speak for yourself, round-ears,” Vanariel said with half of a smile. “But nevertheless, I agree with the sentiment.”
“Oh,” Theldon said. He sat in own thoughts for a moment. “Thanks, guys. That means a lot to me.”
“Don’t mention it,” Pete said, and Vanariel nodded in agreement.
The evening passed in silence. Shiny Pete honed his daggers, and Vanariel memorized her spells. Dagmar and Theldon each sat in silence, alone with his thoughts.
At last the dwarf spoke. “Lad,” he asked the doppleganger, “have you ever tried maybe not being a shapeshifter?”
| |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | The miles between them had come and gone, leaving scars and wounds and memories and laughs. The horizon that day was clear, and the world fell into green and yellow, and far away were the mountains, and everything was cloaked in a dream. They had come far. The first peaks of Lankar shimmered in an ephemeral haze.
"We've made it," Keldar said.
"Not yet."
Annastatia was worn, cut and bruised. Her eyes had dimmed some, but even the terrors of the Void had receded for the moment. She was in the present then, looking ahead, same as them all.
None had seen the mountain before. Alton had not believed in it. Haldar had said they would die before they ever crossed the river.
Now he stared with timeless eyes, eyes which had seen things from the Darkness. Eyes which had seen the birth of his kin from the still mirror waters of the Endless Caves. Those eyes had seen more than Haldar could ever have imagined.
"I guess it does exist," Alton said.
He clapped Haldar on the back. An uneasy feeling overcame him with the touch.
*It feels like him,* he thought.
And his thought travelled in the wind of the Void, that invisible world which held all the unknown things, the things that caused madness.
"Yes," Annastatia said.
She looked at Haldar.
"What?" said Keldar.
She shook her head.
They were weary and made camp on the hill. For the days past they had slept during the day, marched in the night. Their bodies were worn and tired, a piece of them all left behind in the Grey River.
*The price was worth it,* Keldar thought.
He was an older man, a knight in youth, and now his world had gone and he was alone but for adventure.
*Is it?*
He could not answer himself and the question lingered, unanswered by even Annastatia. They were quiet there on the hill. Midday came with a scarce lunch and perfunctory talk.
"I've never been so far," said Alton.
They agreed. Home had sunk away like the dying sun, and this endless night of the unknown still had miles yet to go.
"We're alive though," Keldar said.
"Yes," Annastatia said.
They looked at Haldar. Behind those eyes were the midnight of malice. But that malice reflected the sun, and then it was blue and immediate and true.
"I made it," Haldar said. "Barely by the skin of my leather, but I made it."
In the Grey River there were ancient cliffs, hills and holes. There amidst that pocked earth lived the unknown things, the things which embraced the Darkness.
In that place Haldar had fallen into the murky waters of the Grey River and its currents had taken him.
His screams had pierced the Void then, echoing even on the hill they now camped on. Annastatia winced and she saw the time as it floated past in the forever winds of that realm.
"Help!" Haldar cried.
Her hand held her staff. Every inch of her was prepared to hold it for him to grab on to. She saw it happening, feeling his weight and the rescue. And yet she hesitated.
"Help!"
She had remembered the times before. His hand caressing hers, teasing some unwanted strength, threatening in the vaguest of ways. And even then his thoughts were certain of his foul desire.
And so the river had taken him and they all had watched. They had let it happen as the waters surrounded him in an opaque cover, the burial of some unwanted pest, and they feigned the mourning as all good friends should do.
Then they were three.
But he had come back. The first trees were tall and skinny and gave little shade. Their slanting shadows were bars as they passed, looking like prisoners in a dream world, and then from that shifting prison, Haldar had come, wet and worn. The Grey River had taken much from him, he said, and he was different, completely different.
"I left more of my soul there than you," he said.
They looked at him and knew what he was, or what he wasn't. That night they discussed it in secret, and decided they would bide time before doing what must be done.
Three days had passed since then, but that time still had not come.
Sleep overcame them and they rested awhile. The falling sun awoke them to a red and orange sky and their shadows spilled past the hill.
"Statia," Alton said.
He was stretching.
"Yes?"
"I've had a bad dream. Worse than any of the others before."
"Was it of your past? The stealing in your mother's house?"
"No. No it was..."
She saw his face. She touched his head and the after images of the fading dream kindled within her.
Haldar stared beneath a blackened sky, alone and afraid. All around a great water rushed him, surrounding him with its endless sound.
The dream faded and she recoiled.
"I... I have no remedy," she said.
She looked at Haldar. The thing which pretended to be him looked at her and smiled. Though shifters like him were not connected as strongly to the Void, she could feel his thoughts in the air, like some distant food that has long been eaten.
*He means me no malice. Not like his...*
Victim. But she could not say the word.
Keldar walked to Haldar and put his hand on his shoulder.
"How is your wound?"
"Better now," Haldar said.
*He feels the same*, Keldar thought. *He really does.*
Then they packed their things and prepared for another night of walking. Lankar glittered in the night like some crystal, and yet soft as home's bed sheets on a cold night.
"What's there again?" Haldar asked.
He looked at them to see if any suspected. He thought they did. He thought he should kill them, but living in the black had not tainted his heart.
*Never have I seen such beauty as her.*
And in the moonlight Annastatia was some Queen, the kind of which no longer walks this world. Some distant being, ghost-like and tender, and yet strong and hardy with eyes opened into the real world.
*But she is Keldar's.*
And he felt sad. He felt the light on him and looked up.
*I should kill them and have her to myself.*
But she would die first before such things could happen. She would kill him then surely. They already considered the deed. He closed his eyes. The light painted him with a warmth the others could not feel.
*They have not lived in the dark,* he thought. *They are human. Weak and ignorant of the Dark, for they know not of such things.*
"Lankar," Alton said. "The mountain of Dreams. There, as legend goes, is the Spring of Dreaming. One sip of its water will change you. It will make whatever is in your heart come true."
"It can change the world physically?"
"No," said Annastatia. "But it will change *you*. It will change the spirit so that what you hold dearest will come true in a way of its own. It is not a place of wishes."
"It is like the Grey River then?" Haldar asked.
"Yes, in a sense. But it does not take. It gives and cleanses."
Then they were quiet. In their hearts they were uneasy. Haldar's death weighed immensely on them.
*The Spring will clean me,* Keldar thought.
Annastatia held him. Her face was pretty in the white light and he looked at her and loved her anew once more. He put his arm around her.
*I am an evil man,* he thought.
She looked at him with those sad eyes of hers.
*If that be true, then so are we all my love.*
He squeezed her hand.
*What hope is there then? This guilt weighs too heavy on me.*
*The Spring, as you've thought. The Spring is our only hope. Haldar was a fool. The River took him of its own choosing. His heart was black, blacker than this imposter.*
"I like you," Alton said to Haldar. "I don't know if you understand, but I'll be truthful. I like you."
And Haldar, the thing, understood as much. It too had thoughts that raged in an incomprehensible storm.
"I like you too," he said. "All of you."
"Then may the Spring save us," Keldar said.
And they marched in silence as the night slowly passed.
-
*Hi there! If you liked this story, please consider my subreddit r/PanMan. It has all my WP stories as well as some original ones. I'm slowly working on it and getting it to look nicer, so I promise it will look better soon. Thank you!* | Theldon – or at least the creature that was wearing his face – looked pale in the light of the campfire. As the wood crackled and burned, he chewed his lower lip, gathering his courage to speak.
“Guys … I … I have something to tell you,” he managed.
His three traveling companions looked at him. Vanariel snapped her spellbook shut and drew her staff. “What is it? An ambush? I told you guys I saw goblin-sign back there!”
“No, no! Not goblins!” Theldon said, holding his hands out. “It’s … it’s about me.”
Shiny Pete smirked. “What? You got the whore’s itch or something? Nothing to be ashamed of, buddy. Happened to us all once or twice.”
Dagmar glowered at the rogue from under bushy eyebrows. “Or mayhap a good number of times more than that.”
“No! It's not a disease either! It’s just …” Theldon took a deep breath. “Guys … I’m … I’m a doppelganger."
The three of them shared a long look, and then Vanariel and Shiny Pete burst out laughing. Dagmar’s glower deepened. “That’s no’ funny, lad,” he growled.
Vanariel and Shiny Pete stopped laughing. “Wait, wait,” the rogue said, “Dagmar, you didn’t *know?*”
Theldon looked shocked. “Wait, you guys *knew?*”
The elven woman tittered. “You’re not the shapeshifter you think you are. The real Theldon was an asshole.”
“Total dickwad,” Shiny Pete agreed. “In, like, every conceivable way.”
Dagmar leapt to his feet, drawing his axe. “You mean this is no’ a joke?” he roared, advancing on Theldon. “Die, fiend!”
As one, Vanariel and Shiny Pete placed themselves between the enraged dwarf and the doppleganger. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Shiny Pete yelled. “This might not be the original Theldon, but he’s been with us for almost a year now. He was the guy who stood over you after you got paralyzed by a ghoul.”
“He took point when we fought that dragon,” Vanariel continued.
“Hell, he got in the face of evil sorcerer while you were busy chopping up his henchmen,” Shiny Pete added.
“Those henchmen represented a serious threat!” Dagmar retorted, “And it was no' like it was a full-grown dragon. Only a wee one!”
In unison, Valariel and Shiny Pete rolled their eyes. Dagmar glowered some more. He was good at it, and he liked to play to his strengths. At last the dwarf made a humphing noise and lowered his axe. Valariel sat down and opened her spellbook again. “Okay, that’s over right? We can get back to the adventuring?”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Pete said. Dagmar only grunted.
“Did you guys really know?” Theldon asked, still somewhat wary of the dwarf.
“Oh, yeah. I mean, it was kind of suspicious how he was dying of jungle rot one day and completely fine the next. But you’re really not much like the original Theldon at all. First of all, you’re actually useful in combat. And second of all, you’re a decent guy. I mean, I can have an ale with you and not worry that you’re going to stiff me on the check,” Pete said.
“Or stare at my tits while I’m trancing. Or grab my ass when I’m trying to brew potions,” Vanariel added. “And the ear jokes. Ugh, the original Theldon was such a creep. Why did we even keep him around?”
"Good question," Pete said. "I mean, I asked myself that a bunch of times after we got new Theldon. 'Why did we even keep that tool around in the first place?'"
“So you guys don’t even care that I’m a shapeshifter?”
“Not really, no,” Pete said. “I worked with lots of different people when I was in the Thieves’ Guild. Changelings weren’t any more likely to try killing me in my sleep than humans or half-elves. In my experience, everyone’s pretty human when you get down to it.”
“Hey! Speak for yourself, round-ears,” Vanariel said with half of a smile. “But nevertheless, I agree with the sentiment.”
“Oh,” Theldon said. He sat in own thoughts for a moment. “Thanks, guys. That means a lot to me.”
“Don’t mention it,” Pete said, and Vanariel nodded in agreement.
The evening passed in silence. Shiny Pete honed his daggers, and Vanariel memorized her spells. Dagmar and Theldon each sat in silence, alone with his thoughts.
At last the dwarf spoke. “Lad,” he asked the doppleganger, “have you ever tried maybe not being a shapeshifter?”
| |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | "That was..." Brawg began, staggering over the bodies of the fallen goblins, his boots squelching in the treacle-like blood.
"Far too..." said Vesperr, returning her bow to her back, and beginning to pluck out arrows from the deceased enemies.
"Oxyrin!" finished Oxyrin, his pointed hat falling over his eyes once again. Dribble oozed down from his mouth and his pupils spun this way and that, as if two compasses confused by magnets.
Brawg and Vesperr looked at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing. Brawg brought a thunderous hand down on the wizard's back. "Don't ever change, Oxyrin!" he said.
"Oh, Oxyrin," grinned Vesperr, "you're the reason we do this, you know? For that smile on your face." She wiped away a the spittle from his lips, then shook her finger, sending the spit plopping onto the ground.
"Oxyrin!" Oxyrin repeated. A pointed tongue darted out of his mouth and latched onto a fly that was hovering over a brutalised body below.
"I'm going to pretend I didn't just see that," said Brawg with a wink. "Okay gang, I'd say we're all done here. I believe its time to go collect our reward."
"Not so fast, my friends," came a mysterious voice from behind them. Only, when they turned, there was *nothing* behind them.
Slowly, the blue-robed wizard hazed into existence. "It is I, the *real* Oxyrin! I have been trapped for the longest time, but I have finally outsmarted my captors and have returned to my friends. For no one is as clever as the Great Oxyrin!"
Brawg and Vesperr glanced at each other, then let out a joint gasp.
"Quite you might gasp," said Oxyrin, as he turned and pointed an accusing finger at the other blue wizard, who was now on all fours chasing after a spider. "For that fellow, has fooled you, my dear friends. But he is nothing more than an impostor! A Doppelganger! A fake, a fraud, and dare I say it, a phoney."
Brawg nudged Vesperr and they both gasped again.
"How.. erm, how can we believe you?" asked Vesperr, her top lip wet with nervous sweat. "How do we know he--"she pointed to the to the wizard, who was now chewing on something--"isn't the real Oxyrin. After all, he would have had to fool us both for two entire years."
Oxyrin rolled his eyes. "Hardly a challenging task. You two never were the"--his hands burst into blue flames--"brightest sparks. Ha. Hahaha."
Brawg's muscles tensed. Vesperr put a hand against his chest.
"That's not proof enough. For our Oxyrin can also do such petty parlour tricks."
"Very well," Oxyrin sighed, "I shall prove it. We shall have a wizard-off."
"Smart," said Vesperr. She let out a high pitched whistle, at which the other Oxyrin came bounding over to her.
"Oxyrin!" he sputtered as he arrived.
"Is that all he can say? How could you *possibly* believe he was me?"
"Good point," said Brawg. "His vocabulary is much larger."
"Oh. You made a joke. How very amusing."
"Okay," said Vesperr. "Round one of the wizard-off. *Shape-shifting.*"
"What? What a stupid round," complained Oxyrin, "for sniffing out a shape-shifter!" His face was red and a vein popped out of his forehead, pulsating like waves on the ocean. "Unbelievable idiocy. How you have possibly survived this long without me to guide you -- heaven only knows!"
"Oxyrin!" replied the other Oxyrin.
"Well, if you can't do it and he can..." said Brawg shrugging, "then I guess we know who the real wizard is."
"Oh... *pish!* Very well. And what must we change into, pray tell?"
"Something very small. To really challenge your morphitisation skills. A fly. Simple. First one to transform into a fly wins."
"Sala kazoo, Sala kazam!" shouted Oxyrin. There was a puff of smoke that left Vesperr and Brawg coughing. As it cleared, and only for the briefest moment, they saw a fly. Then, they saw a huge, pointed tongue. Finally, they saw an Oxyrin chewing on and then swallowing *something*.
"Oxyrin!" he shouted triumphantly, as Brawg and Vesperr collapsed into a fit of laughter.
"Oh Oxyrin," said Brawg, slapping him on the back "you really are too much."
"And," said Vesperr, "we wouldn't have it any other way!"
| Theldon – or at least the creature that was wearing his face – looked pale in the light of the campfire. As the wood crackled and burned, he chewed his lower lip, gathering his courage to speak.
“Guys … I … I have something to tell you,” he managed.
His three traveling companions looked at him. Vanariel snapped her spellbook shut and drew her staff. “What is it? An ambush? I told you guys I saw goblin-sign back there!”
“No, no! Not goblins!” Theldon said, holding his hands out. “It’s … it’s about me.”
Shiny Pete smirked. “What? You got the whore’s itch or something? Nothing to be ashamed of, buddy. Happened to us all once or twice.”
Dagmar glowered at the rogue from under bushy eyebrows. “Or mayhap a good number of times more than that.”
“No! It's not a disease either! It’s just …” Theldon took a deep breath. “Guys … I’m … I’m a doppelganger."
The three of them shared a long look, and then Vanariel and Shiny Pete burst out laughing. Dagmar’s glower deepened. “That’s no’ funny, lad,” he growled.
Vanariel and Shiny Pete stopped laughing. “Wait, wait,” the rogue said, “Dagmar, you didn’t *know?*”
Theldon looked shocked. “Wait, you guys *knew?*”
The elven woman tittered. “You’re not the shapeshifter you think you are. The real Theldon was an asshole.”
“Total dickwad,” Shiny Pete agreed. “In, like, every conceivable way.”
Dagmar leapt to his feet, drawing his axe. “You mean this is no’ a joke?” he roared, advancing on Theldon. “Die, fiend!”
As one, Vanariel and Shiny Pete placed themselves between the enraged dwarf and the doppleganger. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Shiny Pete yelled. “This might not be the original Theldon, but he’s been with us for almost a year now. He was the guy who stood over you after you got paralyzed by a ghoul.”
“He took point when we fought that dragon,” Vanariel continued.
“Hell, he got in the face of evil sorcerer while you were busy chopping up his henchmen,” Shiny Pete added.
“Those henchmen represented a serious threat!” Dagmar retorted, “And it was no' like it was a full-grown dragon. Only a wee one!”
In unison, Valariel and Shiny Pete rolled their eyes. Dagmar glowered some more. He was good at it, and he liked to play to his strengths. At last the dwarf made a humphing noise and lowered his axe. Valariel sat down and opened her spellbook again. “Okay, that’s over right? We can get back to the adventuring?”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Pete said. Dagmar only grunted.
“Did you guys really know?” Theldon asked, still somewhat wary of the dwarf.
“Oh, yeah. I mean, it was kind of suspicious how he was dying of jungle rot one day and completely fine the next. But you’re really not much like the original Theldon at all. First of all, you’re actually useful in combat. And second of all, you’re a decent guy. I mean, I can have an ale with you and not worry that you’re going to stiff me on the check,” Pete said.
“Or stare at my tits while I’m trancing. Or grab my ass when I’m trying to brew potions,” Vanariel added. “And the ear jokes. Ugh, the original Theldon was such a creep. Why did we even keep him around?”
"Good question," Pete said. "I mean, I asked myself that a bunch of times after we got new Theldon. 'Why did we even keep that tool around in the first place?'"
“So you guys don’t even care that I’m a shapeshifter?”
“Not really, no,” Pete said. “I worked with lots of different people when I was in the Thieves’ Guild. Changelings weren’t any more likely to try killing me in my sleep than humans or half-elves. In my experience, everyone’s pretty human when you get down to it.”
“Hey! Speak for yourself, round-ears,” Vanariel said with half of a smile. “But nevertheless, I agree with the sentiment.”
“Oh,” Theldon said. He sat in own thoughts for a moment. “Thanks, guys. That means a lot to me.”
“Don’t mention it,” Pete said, and Vanariel nodded in agreement.
The evening passed in silence. Shiny Pete honed his daggers, and Vanariel memorized her spells. Dagmar and Theldon each sat in silence, alone with his thoughts.
At last the dwarf spoke. “Lad,” he asked the doppleganger, “have you ever tried maybe not being a shapeshifter?”
| |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | "A fine...mead?!" Rorik shouts over the din of the tavern. His companions smile and nod along with him as he sings some old barbarian tune.
Sings it wrong. They don't tell him that though.
Delia, the group's cleric leans over to their mage.
"Do you think he knows?"
Melvar just shakes his head and holds out a palm towards their massive friend. Friend as of lately, of course. Rorik was a massive pain for the group long before the shifter stole his face.
"He definitely doesn't but...I think I like him. Rorik was a bit of a jerk, always running off into the dungeons with that stupid battlecry. Remember when we went into the Crypt of Alohar, how many good people did he get killed?"
"Yeah...he's kinda cute now. Like a child or something."
They both watch Rorik move around the tavern with his mug and talk to other groups of adventurers. He's loud but not overbearing. He listens to the stories of others instead of telling his own. He drinks but not to excess. He is nothing like the barbarian they all had come to know and...
Melvar doesn't quite finish the thought.
"You know what Del, I like him. I know he's a shifter but look at everyone. We all know and he's trying so hard to be like Rorik but he just can't. I don't think there's a mean bone in that thing's body. You know that he hasn't made fun of my beard once, not in months."
She snorts. The young mage was trying so hard to grow it out and he'd been self-conscious about it for months.
A warrior passing by their table to his own party leans over and whispers it to the pair.
"You should keep him. He's an improvement."
"Friends!" Rorik shouts, sitting again at their table, "What fun! And we do this between every adventure? And people give us gold to go on those adventures? To spend here? Amazing!"
He is off again before they can even respond.
"Do you think The Dwarf knows?" Melvar watches Rorik join another random group of adventures and sing yet another song. Still wrong.
Delia shrugs.
"I don't know and I don't care. We're gonna keep him. He's like a dog or something. But useful."
Melvar strokes his "beard" for a moment.
"Alright, we'll keep him. But I swear if he ever makes fun of my beard-"
"What? You'll strangle him with one of your wisps? You should really shave, you're looking more like a magical hobo than a wizard. 'I cast: smell of unwashedness!'"
As she walks away laughing at her own joke Melvar narrows his eyes. He lifts his mug and mutters something into it before drinking.
"I'll replace you too if I have to..." | Theldon – or at least the creature that was wearing his face – looked pale in the light of the campfire. As the wood crackled and burned, he chewed his lower lip, gathering his courage to speak.
“Guys … I … I have something to tell you,” he managed.
His three traveling companions looked at him. Vanariel snapped her spellbook shut and drew her staff. “What is it? An ambush? I told you guys I saw goblin-sign back there!”
“No, no! Not goblins!” Theldon said, holding his hands out. “It’s … it’s about me.”
Shiny Pete smirked. “What? You got the whore’s itch or something? Nothing to be ashamed of, buddy. Happened to us all once or twice.”
Dagmar glowered at the rogue from under bushy eyebrows. “Or mayhap a good number of times more than that.”
“No! It's not a disease either! It’s just …” Theldon took a deep breath. “Guys … I’m … I’m a doppelganger."
The three of them shared a long look, and then Vanariel and Shiny Pete burst out laughing. Dagmar’s glower deepened. “That’s no’ funny, lad,” he growled.
Vanariel and Shiny Pete stopped laughing. “Wait, wait,” the rogue said, “Dagmar, you didn’t *know?*”
Theldon looked shocked. “Wait, you guys *knew?*”
The elven woman tittered. “You’re not the shapeshifter you think you are. The real Theldon was an asshole.”
“Total dickwad,” Shiny Pete agreed. “In, like, every conceivable way.”
Dagmar leapt to his feet, drawing his axe. “You mean this is no’ a joke?” he roared, advancing on Theldon. “Die, fiend!”
As one, Vanariel and Shiny Pete placed themselves between the enraged dwarf and the doppleganger. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Shiny Pete yelled. “This might not be the original Theldon, but he’s been with us for almost a year now. He was the guy who stood over you after you got paralyzed by a ghoul.”
“He took point when we fought that dragon,” Vanariel continued.
“Hell, he got in the face of evil sorcerer while you were busy chopping up his henchmen,” Shiny Pete added.
“Those henchmen represented a serious threat!” Dagmar retorted, “And it was no' like it was a full-grown dragon. Only a wee one!”
In unison, Valariel and Shiny Pete rolled their eyes. Dagmar glowered some more. He was good at it, and he liked to play to his strengths. At last the dwarf made a humphing noise and lowered his axe. Valariel sat down and opened her spellbook again. “Okay, that’s over right? We can get back to the adventuring?”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Pete said. Dagmar only grunted.
“Did you guys really know?” Theldon asked, still somewhat wary of the dwarf.
“Oh, yeah. I mean, it was kind of suspicious how he was dying of jungle rot one day and completely fine the next. But you’re really not much like the original Theldon at all. First of all, you’re actually useful in combat. And second of all, you’re a decent guy. I mean, I can have an ale with you and not worry that you’re going to stiff me on the check,” Pete said.
“Or stare at my tits while I’m trancing. Or grab my ass when I’m trying to brew potions,” Vanariel added. “And the ear jokes. Ugh, the original Theldon was such a creep. Why did we even keep him around?”
"Good question," Pete said. "I mean, I asked myself that a bunch of times after we got new Theldon. 'Why did we even keep that tool around in the first place?'"
“So you guys don’t even care that I’m a shapeshifter?”
“Not really, no,” Pete said. “I worked with lots of different people when I was in the Thieves’ Guild. Changelings weren’t any more likely to try killing me in my sleep than humans or half-elves. In my experience, everyone’s pretty human when you get down to it.”
“Hey! Speak for yourself, round-ears,” Vanariel said with half of a smile. “But nevertheless, I agree with the sentiment.”
“Oh,” Theldon said. He sat in own thoughts for a moment. “Thanks, guys. That means a lot to me.”
“Don’t mention it,” Pete said, and Vanariel nodded in agreement.
The evening passed in silence. Shiny Pete honed his daggers, and Vanariel memorized her spells. Dagmar and Theldon each sat in silence, alone with his thoughts.
At last the dwarf spoke. “Lad,” he asked the doppleganger, “have you ever tried maybe not being a shapeshifter?”
| |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | Approaching the city gate, the adventurers stiffen as the guards halt their way. Of course, Mr. Nobility has to be the one to step forward and speak for the group. Marian lightly touches her bow, prepared to ready an arrow if her arrogant companion gets them into trouble again.
"Greetings, my good men. My name is Hector of the house Rellon. Do you happen to have any directions for a band of weary travelers? We seek no conflict, only a comfortable place to rest for the night."
Sora and Fiera share a look. The last time they entered a new city, he tried to march right past the guards, drawing his sword when they stopped him. They had to find accommodations in a dingy little inn outside the city gates, where the other patrons all gave the distinct impression of being criminals.
Now, though, one guard obligingly gave them directions, and Hector... Hector actually thanked him, and clapped his back like they were old friends. The guard laughed cheerfully and sent them on their way. This was wrong. Hector didn't have friends. He didn't make friends. The only reason his companions hadn't booted him was his skill in combat, which had just barely saved them from more problems than his personality had gotten them into.
That night, as Hector remained in the common room to buy another round for the crowd... an unusual act of generosity... the others gathered in the private room they'd booked.
"Do you remember earlier today, when he left to investigate that noise in the trees?" Asked Sora.
Marian nodded. "But there was nothing there."
"I know," said Sora, "But what if he lied?"
"You think he could be under someone's control?" Fiera chimed in. "I could dispel any magic that might be around him."
Sora shook his head. "I don't think it's control. He hasn't hurt us or been irrational. He's just... *different*. I think he's been replaced."
"That's pretty far-fetched." Marian's voice was skeptical.
"It's happened before," said Sora. "Not all shapeshifters are evil. Some of them just want a safe group to live among. A family. Like what we are to Hector, even though he's an asshole who doesn't deserve us."
Fiera narrowed her eyes. "How do you know so much about shapeshifters?"
Sora sighed. It was time to come clean. "Because I'm one of them. You guys didn't know the real Sora. He tried to raid my nest. Would have gotten a good part of my family killed, as well as his whole group, if I hadn't taken his place. Foolhardy bastard. His friends figured me out, though. I barely escaped, and by then I was used to this form."
"No." Fiera shook her head. "You can't just replace people. The real Hector..."
"The real Hector didn't give a toss about any of us," said Marian. "Do you really think he's worth our compassion? When was the last time he extended any to you?"
Fiera was quiet for a minute, remembering the time she'd broken a leg fighting a troll. And Hector elected to carry the troll's treasure chest out of the dungeon, leaving her to hobble after him using a giant club as a makeshift crutch. "I guess if this shapeshifter is anything like you, Sora, it's probably an improvement."
"I know I was," commented Marian. "My new parents must have known something was different, but the family got along so much better with me in her place that they never questioned it."
Fiera stood from her chair, backing toward the door. "Are you shapeshifters going to replace everybody?"
"No," said Sora and Marian simultaneously.
Sora continued. "You're a good person, Fiera. We only take the place of assholes. People whose absence would actually improve things. For everybody, not just those of us who can change our form. Trust me, Fiera." He smiled, the friendly expression that Fiera had come to find reassuring after the years they'd spent together. "You have nothing to worry about."
Edit: typo | Approaching the city gate, the adventurers stiffen as the guards halt their way. Of course, Mr. Nobility has to be the one to step forward and speak for the group. Marian lightly touches her bow, prepared to ready an arrow if her arrogant companion gets them into trouble again.
"Greetings, my good men. My name is Hector of the house Rellon. Do you happen to have any directions for a band of weary travelers? We seek no conflict, only a comfortable place to rest for the night."
Sora and Fiera share a look. The last time they entered a new city, he tried to march right past the guards, drawing his sword when they stopped him. They had to find accommodations in a dingy little inn outside the city gates, where the other patrons all gave the distinct impression of being criminals.
Now, though, one guard obligingly gave them directions, and Hector... Hector actually thanked him, and clapped his back like they were old friends. The guard laughed cheerfully and sent them on their way. This was wrong. Hector didn't have friends. He didn't make friends. The only reason his companions hadn't booted him was his skill in combat, which had just barely saved them from more problems than his personality had gotten them into.
That night, as Hector remained in the common room to buy another round for the crowd... an unusual act of generosity... the others gathered in the private room they'd booked.
"Do you remember earlier today, when he left to investigate that noise in the trees?" Asked Sora.
Marian nodded. "But there was nothing there."
"I know," said Sora, "But what if he liked?"
"You think he could be under someone's control?" Fiera chimed in. "I could dispel any magic that might be around him."
Sora shook his head. "I don't think it's control. He hasn't hurt us or been irrational. He's just... *different*. I think he's been replaced."
"That's pretty far-fetched." Marian's voice was skeptical.
"It's happened before," said Sora. "Not all shapeshifters are evil. Some of them just want a safe group to live among. A family. Like what we are to Hector, even though he's an asshole who doesn't deserve us."
Fiera narrowed her eyes. "How do you know so much about shapeshifters?"
Sora sighed. It was time to come clean. "Because I'm one of them. You guys didn't know the real Sora. He tried to raid my nest. Would have gotten a good part of my family killed, as well as his whole group, if I hadn't taken his place. Foolhardy bastard. His friends figured me out, though. I barely escaped, and by then I was used to this form."
"No." Fiera shook her head. "You can't just replace people. The real Hector..."
"The real Hector didn't give a toss about any of us," said Marian. "Do you really think he's worth our compassion? When was the last time he extended any to you?"
Fiera was quiet for a minute, remembering the time she'd broken a leg fighting a troll. And Hector elected to carry the troll's treasure chest out of the dungeon, leaving her to hobble after him using a giant club as a makeshift crutch. "I guess if this shapeshifter is anything like you, Sora, it's probably an improvement."
"I know I was," commented Marian. "My new parents must have known something was different, but the family got along so much better with me in her place that they never questioned it."
Fiera stood from her chair, backing toward the door. "Are you shapeshifters going to replace everybody?"
"No," said Sora and Marian simultaneously.
Sora continued. "You're a good person, Fiera. We only take the place of assholes. People whose absence would actually improve things. For everybody, not just those of us who can change our form. Trust me, Fiera." He smiled, the friendly expression that Fiera had come to find reassuring after the years they'd spent together. "You have nothing to worry about." | |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | The miles between them had come and gone, leaving scars and wounds and memories and laughs. The horizon that day was clear, and the world fell into green and yellow, and far away were the mountains, and everything was cloaked in a dream. They had come far. The first peaks of Lankar shimmered in an ephemeral haze.
"We've made it," Keldar said.
"Not yet."
Annastatia was worn, cut and bruised. Her eyes had dimmed some, but even the terrors of the Void had receded for the moment. She was in the present then, looking ahead, same as them all.
None had seen the mountain before. Alton had not believed in it. Haldar had said they would die before they ever crossed the river.
Now he stared with timeless eyes, eyes which had seen things from the Darkness. Eyes which had seen the birth of his kin from the still mirror waters of the Endless Caves. Those eyes had seen more than Haldar could ever have imagined.
"I guess it does exist," Alton said.
He clapped Haldar on the back. An uneasy feeling overcame him with the touch.
*It feels like him,* he thought.
And his thought travelled in the wind of the Void, that invisible world which held all the unknown things, the things that caused madness.
"Yes," Annastatia said.
She looked at Haldar.
"What?" said Keldar.
She shook her head.
They were weary and made camp on the hill. For the days past they had slept during the day, marched in the night. Their bodies were worn and tired, a piece of them all left behind in the Grey River.
*The price was worth it,* Keldar thought.
He was an older man, a knight in youth, and now his world had gone and he was alone but for adventure.
*Is it?*
He could not answer himself and the question lingered, unanswered by even Annastatia. They were quiet there on the hill. Midday came with a scarce lunch and perfunctory talk.
"I've never been so far," said Alton.
They agreed. Home had sunk away like the dying sun, and this endless night of the unknown still had miles yet to go.
"We're alive though," Keldar said.
"Yes," Annastatia said.
They looked at Haldar. Behind those eyes were the midnight of malice. But that malice reflected the sun, and then it was blue and immediate and true.
"I made it," Haldar said. "Barely by the skin of my leather, but I made it."
In the Grey River there were ancient cliffs, hills and holes. There amidst that pocked earth lived the unknown things, the things which embraced the Darkness.
In that place Haldar had fallen into the murky waters of the Grey River and its currents had taken him.
His screams had pierced the Void then, echoing even on the hill they now camped on. Annastatia winced and she saw the time as it floated past in the forever winds of that realm.
"Help!" Haldar cried.
Her hand held her staff. Every inch of her was prepared to hold it for him to grab on to. She saw it happening, feeling his weight and the rescue. And yet she hesitated.
"Help!"
She had remembered the times before. His hand caressing hers, teasing some unwanted strength, threatening in the vaguest of ways. And even then his thoughts were certain of his foul desire.
And so the river had taken him and they all had watched. They had let it happen as the waters surrounded him in an opaque cover, the burial of some unwanted pest, and they feigned the mourning as all good friends should do.
Then they were three.
But he had come back. The first trees were tall and skinny and gave little shade. Their slanting shadows were bars as they passed, looking like prisoners in a dream world, and then from that shifting prison, Haldar had come, wet and worn. The Grey River had taken much from him, he said, and he was different, completely different.
"I left more of my soul there than you," he said.
They looked at him and knew what he was, or what he wasn't. That night they discussed it in secret, and decided they would bide time before doing what must be done.
Three days had passed since then, but that time still had not come.
Sleep overcame them and they rested awhile. The falling sun awoke them to a red and orange sky and their shadows spilled past the hill.
"Statia," Alton said.
He was stretching.
"Yes?"
"I've had a bad dream. Worse than any of the others before."
"Was it of your past? The stealing in your mother's house?"
"No. No it was..."
She saw his face. She touched his head and the after images of the fading dream kindled within her.
Haldar stared beneath a blackened sky, alone and afraid. All around a great water rushed him, surrounding him with its endless sound.
The dream faded and she recoiled.
"I... I have no remedy," she said.
She looked at Haldar. The thing which pretended to be him looked at her and smiled. Though shifters like him were not connected as strongly to the Void, she could feel his thoughts in the air, like some distant food that has long been eaten.
*He means me no malice. Not like his...*
Victim. But she could not say the word.
Keldar walked to Haldar and put his hand on his shoulder.
"How is your wound?"
"Better now," Haldar said.
*He feels the same*, Keldar thought. *He really does.*
Then they packed their things and prepared for another night of walking. Lankar glittered in the night like some crystal, and yet soft as home's bed sheets on a cold night.
"What's there again?" Haldar asked.
He looked at them to see if any suspected. He thought they did. He thought he should kill them, but living in the black had not tainted his heart.
*Never have I seen such beauty as her.*
And in the moonlight Annastatia was some Queen, the kind of which no longer walks this world. Some distant being, ghost-like and tender, and yet strong and hardy with eyes opened into the real world.
*But she is Keldar's.*
And he felt sad. He felt the light on him and looked up.
*I should kill them and have her to myself.*
But she would die first before such things could happen. She would kill him then surely. They already considered the deed. He closed his eyes. The light painted him with a warmth the others could not feel.
*They have not lived in the dark,* he thought. *They are human. Weak and ignorant of the Dark, for they know not of such things.*
"Lankar," Alton said. "The mountain of Dreams. There, as legend goes, is the Spring of Dreaming. One sip of its water will change you. It will make whatever is in your heart come true."
"It can change the world physically?"
"No," said Annastatia. "But it will change *you*. It will change the spirit so that what you hold dearest will come true in a way of its own. It is not a place of wishes."
"It is like the Grey River then?" Haldar asked.
"Yes, in a sense. But it does not take. It gives and cleanses."
Then they were quiet. In their hearts they were uneasy. Haldar's death weighed immensely on them.
*The Spring will clean me,* Keldar thought.
Annastatia held him. Her face was pretty in the white light and he looked at her and loved her anew once more. He put his arm around her.
*I am an evil man,* he thought.
She looked at him with those sad eyes of hers.
*If that be true, then so are we all my love.*
He squeezed her hand.
*What hope is there then? This guilt weighs too heavy on me.*
*The Spring, as you've thought. The Spring is our only hope. Haldar was a fool. The River took him of its own choosing. His heart was black, blacker than this imposter.*
"I like you," Alton said to Haldar. "I don't know if you understand, but I'll be truthful. I like you."
And Haldar, the thing, understood as much. It too had thoughts that raged in an incomprehensible storm.
"I like you too," he said. "All of you."
"Then may the Spring save us," Keldar said.
And they marched in silence as the night slowly passed.
-
*Hi there! If you liked this story, please consider my subreddit r/PanMan. It has all my WP stories as well as some original ones. I'm slowly working on it and getting it to look nicer, so I promise it will look better soon. Thank you!* | Approaching the city gate, the adventurers stiffen as the guards halt their way. Of course, Mr. Nobility has to be the one to step forward and speak for the group. Marian lightly touches her bow, prepared to ready an arrow if her arrogant companion gets them into trouble again.
"Greetings, my good men. My name is Hector of the house Rellon. Do you happen to have any directions for a band of weary travelers? We seek no conflict, only a comfortable place to rest for the night."
Sora and Fiera share a look. The last time they entered a new city, he tried to march right past the guards, drawing his sword when they stopped him. They had to find accommodations in a dingy little inn outside the city gates, where the other patrons all gave the distinct impression of being criminals.
Now, though, one guard obligingly gave them directions, and Hector... Hector actually thanked him, and clapped his back like they were old friends. The guard laughed cheerfully and sent them on their way. This was wrong. Hector didn't have friends. He didn't make friends. The only reason his companions hadn't booted him was his skill in combat, which had just barely saved them from more problems than his personality had gotten them into.
That night, as Hector remained in the common room to buy another round for the crowd... an unusual act of generosity... the others gathered in the private room they'd booked.
"Do you remember earlier today, when he left to investigate that noise in the trees?" Asked Sora.
Marian nodded. "But there was nothing there."
"I know," said Sora, "But what if he liked?"
"You think he could be under someone's control?" Fiera chimed in. "I could dispel any magic that might be around him."
Sora shook his head. "I don't think it's control. He hasn't hurt us or been irrational. He's just... *different*. I think he's been replaced."
"That's pretty far-fetched." Marian's voice was skeptical.
"It's happened before," said Sora. "Not all shapeshifters are evil. Some of them just want a safe group to live among. A family. Like what we are to Hector, even though he's an asshole who doesn't deserve us."
Fiera narrowed her eyes. "How do you know so much about shapeshifters?"
Sora sighed. It was time to come clean. "Because I'm one of them. You guys didn't know the real Sora. He tried to raid my nest. Would have gotten a good part of my family killed, as well as his whole group, if I hadn't taken his place. Foolhardy bastard. His friends figured me out, though. I barely escaped, and by then I was used to this form."
"No." Fiera shook her head. "You can't just replace people. The real Hector..."
"The real Hector didn't give a toss about any of us," said Marian. "Do you really think he's worth our compassion? When was the last time he extended any to you?"
Fiera was quiet for a minute, remembering the time she'd broken a leg fighting a troll. And Hector elected to carry the troll's treasure chest out of the dungeon, leaving her to hobble after him using a giant club as a makeshift crutch. "I guess if this shapeshifter is anything like you, Sora, it's probably an improvement."
"I know I was," commented Marian. "My new parents must have known something was different, but the family got along so much better with me in her place that they never questioned it."
Fiera stood from her chair, backing toward the door. "Are you shapeshifters going to replace everybody?"
"No," said Sora and Marian simultaneously.
Sora continued. "You're a good person, Fiera. We only take the place of assholes. People whose absence would actually improve things. For everybody, not just those of us who can change our form. Trust me, Fiera." He smiled, the friendly expression that Fiera had come to find reassuring after the years they'd spent together. "You have nothing to worry about." | |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | "That was..." Brawg began, staggering over the bodies of the fallen goblins, his boots squelching in the treacle-like blood.
"Far too..." said Vesperr, returning her bow to her back, and beginning to pluck out arrows from the deceased enemies.
"Oxyrin!" finished Oxyrin, his pointed hat falling over his eyes once again. Dribble oozed down from his mouth and his pupils spun this way and that, as if two compasses confused by magnets.
Brawg and Vesperr looked at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing. Brawg brought a thunderous hand down on the wizard's back. "Don't ever change, Oxyrin!" he said.
"Oh, Oxyrin," grinned Vesperr, "you're the reason we do this, you know? For that smile on your face." She wiped away a the spittle from his lips, then shook her finger, sending the spit plopping onto the ground.
"Oxyrin!" Oxyrin repeated. A pointed tongue darted out of his mouth and latched onto a fly that was hovering over a brutalised body below.
"I'm going to pretend I didn't just see that," said Brawg with a wink. "Okay gang, I'd say we're all done here. I believe its time to go collect our reward."
"Not so fast, my friends," came a mysterious voice from behind them. Only, when they turned, there was *nothing* behind them.
Slowly, the blue-robed wizard hazed into existence. "It is I, the *real* Oxyrin! I have been trapped for the longest time, but I have finally outsmarted my captors and have returned to my friends. For no one is as clever as the Great Oxyrin!"
Brawg and Vesperr glanced at each other, then let out a joint gasp.
"Quite you might gasp," said Oxyrin, as he turned and pointed an accusing finger at the other blue wizard, who was now on all fours chasing after a spider. "For that fellow, has fooled you, my dear friends. But he is nothing more than an impostor! A Doppelganger! A fake, a fraud, and dare I say it, a phoney."
Brawg nudged Vesperr and they both gasped again.
"How.. erm, how can we believe you?" asked Vesperr, her top lip wet with nervous sweat. "How do we know he--"she pointed to the to the wizard, who was now chewing on something--"isn't the real Oxyrin. After all, he would have had to fool us both for two entire years."
Oxyrin rolled his eyes. "Hardly a challenging task. You two never were the"--his hands burst into blue flames--"brightest sparks. Ha. Hahaha."
Brawg's muscles tensed. Vesperr put a hand against his chest.
"That's not proof enough. For our Oxyrin can also do such petty parlour tricks."
"Very well," Oxyrin sighed, "I shall prove it. We shall have a wizard-off."
"Smart," said Vesperr. She let out a high pitched whistle, at which the other Oxyrin came bounding over to her.
"Oxyrin!" he sputtered as he arrived.
"Is that all he can say? How could you *possibly* believe he was me?"
"Good point," said Brawg. "His vocabulary is much larger."
"Oh. You made a joke. How very amusing."
"Okay," said Vesperr. "Round one of the wizard-off. *Shape-shifting.*"
"What? What a stupid round," complained Oxyrin, "for sniffing out a shape-shifter!" His face was red and a vein popped out of his forehead, pulsating like waves on the ocean. "Unbelievable idiocy. How you have possibly survived this long without me to guide you -- heaven only knows!"
"Oxyrin!" replied the other Oxyrin.
"Well, if you can't do it and he can..." said Brawg shrugging, "then I guess we know who the real wizard is."
"Oh... *pish!* Very well. And what must we change into, pray tell?"
"Something very small. To really challenge your morphitisation skills. A fly. Simple. First one to transform into a fly wins."
"Sala kazoo, Sala kazam!" shouted Oxyrin. There was a puff of smoke that left Vesperr and Brawg coughing. As it cleared, and only for the briefest moment, they saw a fly. Then, they saw a huge, pointed tongue. Finally, they saw an Oxyrin chewing on and then swallowing *something*.
"Oxyrin!" he shouted triumphantly, as Brawg and Vesperr collapsed into a fit of laughter.
"Oh Oxyrin," said Brawg, slapping him on the back "you really are too much."
"And," said Vesperr, "we wouldn't have it any other way!"
| Approaching the city gate, the adventurers stiffen as the guards halt their way. Of course, Mr. Nobility has to be the one to step forward and speak for the group. Marian lightly touches her bow, prepared to ready an arrow if her arrogant companion gets them into trouble again.
"Greetings, my good men. My name is Hector of the house Rellon. Do you happen to have any directions for a band of weary travelers? We seek no conflict, only a comfortable place to rest for the night."
Sora and Fiera share a look. The last time they entered a new city, he tried to march right past the guards, drawing his sword when they stopped him. They had to find accommodations in a dingy little inn outside the city gates, where the other patrons all gave the distinct impression of being criminals.
Now, though, one guard obligingly gave them directions, and Hector... Hector actually thanked him, and clapped his back like they were old friends. The guard laughed cheerfully and sent them on their way. This was wrong. Hector didn't have friends. He didn't make friends. The only reason his companions hadn't booted him was his skill in combat, which had just barely saved them from more problems than his personality had gotten them into.
That night, as Hector remained in the common room to buy another round for the crowd... an unusual act of generosity... the others gathered in the private room they'd booked.
"Do you remember earlier today, when he left to investigate that noise in the trees?" Asked Sora.
Marian nodded. "But there was nothing there."
"I know," said Sora, "But what if he liked?"
"You think he could be under someone's control?" Fiera chimed in. "I could dispel any magic that might be around him."
Sora shook his head. "I don't think it's control. He hasn't hurt us or been irrational. He's just... *different*. I think he's been replaced."
"That's pretty far-fetched." Marian's voice was skeptical.
"It's happened before," said Sora. "Not all shapeshifters are evil. Some of them just want a safe group to live among. A family. Like what we are to Hector, even though he's an asshole who doesn't deserve us."
Fiera narrowed her eyes. "How do you know so much about shapeshifters?"
Sora sighed. It was time to come clean. "Because I'm one of them. You guys didn't know the real Sora. He tried to raid my nest. Would have gotten a good part of my family killed, as well as his whole group, if I hadn't taken his place. Foolhardy bastard. His friends figured me out, though. I barely escaped, and by then I was used to this form."
"No." Fiera shook her head. "You can't just replace people. The real Hector..."
"The real Hector didn't give a toss about any of us," said Marian. "Do you really think he's worth our compassion? When was the last time he extended any to you?"
Fiera was quiet for a minute, remembering the time she'd broken a leg fighting a troll. And Hector elected to carry the troll's treasure chest out of the dungeon, leaving her to hobble after him using a giant club as a makeshift crutch. "I guess if this shapeshifter is anything like you, Sora, it's probably an improvement."
"I know I was," commented Marian. "My new parents must have known something was different, but the family got along so much better with me in her place that they never questioned it."
Fiera stood from her chair, backing toward the door. "Are you shapeshifters going to replace everybody?"
"No," said Sora and Marian simultaneously.
Sora continued. "You're a good person, Fiera. We only take the place of assholes. People whose absence would actually improve things. For everybody, not just those of us who can change our form. Trust me, Fiera." He smiled, the friendly expression that Fiera had come to find reassuring after the years they'd spent together. "You have nothing to worry about." | |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | "A fine...mead?!" Rorik shouts over the din of the tavern. His companions smile and nod along with him as he sings some old barbarian tune.
Sings it wrong. They don't tell him that though.
Delia, the group's cleric leans over to their mage.
"Do you think he knows?"
Melvar just shakes his head and holds out a palm towards their massive friend. Friend as of lately, of course. Rorik was a massive pain for the group long before the shifter stole his face.
"He definitely doesn't but...I think I like him. Rorik was a bit of a jerk, always running off into the dungeons with that stupid battlecry. Remember when we went into the Crypt of Alohar, how many good people did he get killed?"
"Yeah...he's kinda cute now. Like a child or something."
They both watch Rorik move around the tavern with his mug and talk to other groups of adventurers. He's loud but not overbearing. He listens to the stories of others instead of telling his own. He drinks but not to excess. He is nothing like the barbarian they all had come to know and...
Melvar doesn't quite finish the thought.
"You know what Del, I like him. I know he's a shifter but look at everyone. We all know and he's trying so hard to be like Rorik but he just can't. I don't think there's a mean bone in that thing's body. You know that he hasn't made fun of my beard once, not in months."
She snorts. The young mage was trying so hard to grow it out and he'd been self-conscious about it for months.
A warrior passing by their table to his own party leans over and whispers it to the pair.
"You should keep him. He's an improvement."
"Friends!" Rorik shouts, sitting again at their table, "What fun! And we do this between every adventure? And people give us gold to go on those adventures? To spend here? Amazing!"
He is off again before they can even respond.
"Do you think The Dwarf knows?" Melvar watches Rorik join another random group of adventures and sing yet another song. Still wrong.
Delia shrugs.
"I don't know and I don't care. We're gonna keep him. He's like a dog or something. But useful."
Melvar strokes his "beard" for a moment.
"Alright, we'll keep him. But I swear if he ever makes fun of my beard-"
"What? You'll strangle him with one of your wisps? You should really shave, you're looking more like a magical hobo than a wizard. 'I cast: smell of unwashedness!'"
As she walks away laughing at her own joke Melvar narrows his eyes. He lifts his mug and mutters something into it before drinking.
"I'll replace you too if I have to..." | Approaching the city gate, the adventurers stiffen as the guards halt their way. Of course, Mr. Nobility has to be the one to step forward and speak for the group. Marian lightly touches her bow, prepared to ready an arrow if her arrogant companion gets them into trouble again.
"Greetings, my good men. My name is Hector of the house Rellon. Do you happen to have any directions for a band of weary travelers? We seek no conflict, only a comfortable place to rest for the night."
Sora and Fiera share a look. The last time they entered a new city, he tried to march right past the guards, drawing his sword when they stopped him. They had to find accommodations in a dingy little inn outside the city gates, where the other patrons all gave the distinct impression of being criminals.
Now, though, one guard obligingly gave them directions, and Hector... Hector actually thanked him, and clapped his back like they were old friends. The guard laughed cheerfully and sent them on their way. This was wrong. Hector didn't have friends. He didn't make friends. The only reason his companions hadn't booted him was his skill in combat, which had just barely saved them from more problems than his personality had gotten them into.
That night, as Hector remained in the common room to buy another round for the crowd... an unusual act of generosity... the others gathered in the private room they'd booked.
"Do you remember earlier today, when he left to investigate that noise in the trees?" Asked Sora.
Marian nodded. "But there was nothing there."
"I know," said Sora, "But what if he liked?"
"You think he could be under someone's control?" Fiera chimed in. "I could dispel any magic that might be around him."
Sora shook his head. "I don't think it's control. He hasn't hurt us or been irrational. He's just... *different*. I think he's been replaced."
"That's pretty far-fetched." Marian's voice was skeptical.
"It's happened before," said Sora. "Not all shapeshifters are evil. Some of them just want a safe group to live among. A family. Like what we are to Hector, even though he's an asshole who doesn't deserve us."
Fiera narrowed her eyes. "How do you know so much about shapeshifters?"
Sora sighed. It was time to come clean. "Because I'm one of them. You guys didn't know the real Sora. He tried to raid my nest. Would have gotten a good part of my family killed, as well as his whole group, if I hadn't taken his place. Foolhardy bastard. His friends figured me out, though. I barely escaped, and by then I was used to this form."
"No." Fiera shook her head. "You can't just replace people. The real Hector..."
"The real Hector didn't give a toss about any of us," said Marian. "Do you really think he's worth our compassion? When was the last time he extended any to you?"
Fiera was quiet for a minute, remembering the time she'd broken a leg fighting a troll. And Hector elected to carry the troll's treasure chest out of the dungeon, leaving her to hobble after him using a giant club as a makeshift crutch. "I guess if this shapeshifter is anything like you, Sora, it's probably an improvement."
"I know I was," commented Marian. "My new parents must have known something was different, but the family got along so much better with me in her place that they never questioned it."
Fiera stood from her chair, backing toward the door. "Are you shapeshifters going to replace everybody?"
"No," said Sora and Marian simultaneously.
Sora continued. "You're a good person, Fiera. We only take the place of assholes. People whose absence would actually improve things. For everybody, not just those of us who can change our form. Trust me, Fiera." He smiled, the friendly expression that Fiera had come to find reassuring after the years they'd spent together. "You have nothing to worry about." | |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | The miles between them had come and gone, leaving scars and wounds and memories and laughs. The horizon that day was clear, and the world fell into green and yellow, and far away were the mountains, and everything was cloaked in a dream. They had come far. The first peaks of Lankar shimmered in an ephemeral haze.
"We've made it," Keldar said.
"Not yet."
Annastatia was worn, cut and bruised. Her eyes had dimmed some, but even the terrors of the Void had receded for the moment. She was in the present then, looking ahead, same as them all.
None had seen the mountain before. Alton had not believed in it. Haldar had said they would die before they ever crossed the river.
Now he stared with timeless eyes, eyes which had seen things from the Darkness. Eyes which had seen the birth of his kin from the still mirror waters of the Endless Caves. Those eyes had seen more than Haldar could ever have imagined.
"I guess it does exist," Alton said.
He clapped Haldar on the back. An uneasy feeling overcame him with the touch.
*It feels like him,* he thought.
And his thought travelled in the wind of the Void, that invisible world which held all the unknown things, the things that caused madness.
"Yes," Annastatia said.
She looked at Haldar.
"What?" said Keldar.
She shook her head.
They were weary and made camp on the hill. For the days past they had slept during the day, marched in the night. Their bodies were worn and tired, a piece of them all left behind in the Grey River.
*The price was worth it,* Keldar thought.
He was an older man, a knight in youth, and now his world had gone and he was alone but for adventure.
*Is it?*
He could not answer himself and the question lingered, unanswered by even Annastatia. They were quiet there on the hill. Midday came with a scarce lunch and perfunctory talk.
"I've never been so far," said Alton.
They agreed. Home had sunk away like the dying sun, and this endless night of the unknown still had miles yet to go.
"We're alive though," Keldar said.
"Yes," Annastatia said.
They looked at Haldar. Behind those eyes were the midnight of malice. But that malice reflected the sun, and then it was blue and immediate and true.
"I made it," Haldar said. "Barely by the skin of my leather, but I made it."
In the Grey River there were ancient cliffs, hills and holes. There amidst that pocked earth lived the unknown things, the things which embraced the Darkness.
In that place Haldar had fallen into the murky waters of the Grey River and its currents had taken him.
His screams had pierced the Void then, echoing even on the hill they now camped on. Annastatia winced and she saw the time as it floated past in the forever winds of that realm.
"Help!" Haldar cried.
Her hand held her staff. Every inch of her was prepared to hold it for him to grab on to. She saw it happening, feeling his weight and the rescue. And yet she hesitated.
"Help!"
She had remembered the times before. His hand caressing hers, teasing some unwanted strength, threatening in the vaguest of ways. And even then his thoughts were certain of his foul desire.
And so the river had taken him and they all had watched. They had let it happen as the waters surrounded him in an opaque cover, the burial of some unwanted pest, and they feigned the mourning as all good friends should do.
Then they were three.
But he had come back. The first trees were tall and skinny and gave little shade. Their slanting shadows were bars as they passed, looking like prisoners in a dream world, and then from that shifting prison, Haldar had come, wet and worn. The Grey River had taken much from him, he said, and he was different, completely different.
"I left more of my soul there than you," he said.
They looked at him and knew what he was, or what he wasn't. That night they discussed it in secret, and decided they would bide time before doing what must be done.
Three days had passed since then, but that time still had not come.
Sleep overcame them and they rested awhile. The falling sun awoke them to a red and orange sky and their shadows spilled past the hill.
"Statia," Alton said.
He was stretching.
"Yes?"
"I've had a bad dream. Worse than any of the others before."
"Was it of your past? The stealing in your mother's house?"
"No. No it was..."
She saw his face. She touched his head and the after images of the fading dream kindled within her.
Haldar stared beneath a blackened sky, alone and afraid. All around a great water rushed him, surrounding him with its endless sound.
The dream faded and she recoiled.
"I... I have no remedy," she said.
She looked at Haldar. The thing which pretended to be him looked at her and smiled. Though shifters like him were not connected as strongly to the Void, she could feel his thoughts in the air, like some distant food that has long been eaten.
*He means me no malice. Not like his...*
Victim. But she could not say the word.
Keldar walked to Haldar and put his hand on his shoulder.
"How is your wound?"
"Better now," Haldar said.
*He feels the same*, Keldar thought. *He really does.*
Then they packed their things and prepared for another night of walking. Lankar glittered in the night like some crystal, and yet soft as home's bed sheets on a cold night.
"What's there again?" Haldar asked.
He looked at them to see if any suspected. He thought they did. He thought he should kill them, but living in the black had not tainted his heart.
*Never have I seen such beauty as her.*
And in the moonlight Annastatia was some Queen, the kind of which no longer walks this world. Some distant being, ghost-like and tender, and yet strong and hardy with eyes opened into the real world.
*But she is Keldar's.*
And he felt sad. He felt the light on him and looked up.
*I should kill them and have her to myself.*
But she would die first before such things could happen. She would kill him then surely. They already considered the deed. He closed his eyes. The light painted him with a warmth the others could not feel.
*They have not lived in the dark,* he thought. *They are human. Weak and ignorant of the Dark, for they know not of such things.*
"Lankar," Alton said. "The mountain of Dreams. There, as legend goes, is the Spring of Dreaming. One sip of its water will change you. It will make whatever is in your heart come true."
"It can change the world physically?"
"No," said Annastatia. "But it will change *you*. It will change the spirit so that what you hold dearest will come true in a way of its own. It is not a place of wishes."
"It is like the Grey River then?" Haldar asked.
"Yes, in a sense. But it does not take. It gives and cleanses."
Then they were quiet. In their hearts they were uneasy. Haldar's death weighed immensely on them.
*The Spring will clean me,* Keldar thought.
Annastatia held him. Her face was pretty in the white light and he looked at her and loved her anew once more. He put his arm around her.
*I am an evil man,* he thought.
She looked at him with those sad eyes of hers.
*If that be true, then so are we all my love.*
He squeezed her hand.
*What hope is there then? This guilt weighs too heavy on me.*
*The Spring, as you've thought. The Spring is our only hope. Haldar was a fool. The River took him of its own choosing. His heart was black, blacker than this imposter.*
"I like you," Alton said to Haldar. "I don't know if you understand, but I'll be truthful. I like you."
And Haldar, the thing, understood as much. It too had thoughts that raged in an incomprehensible storm.
"I like you too," he said. "All of you."
"Then may the Spring save us," Keldar said.
And they marched in silence as the night slowly passed.
-
*Hi there! If you liked this story, please consider my subreddit r/PanMan. It has all my WP stories as well as some original ones. I'm slowly working on it and getting it to look nicer, so I promise it will look better soon. Thank you!* | The miles between them had come and gone, leaving scars and wounds and memories and laughs. The horizon that day was clear, and the world fell into green and yellow, and far away were the mountains, and everything was cloaked in a dream. They had come far. The first peaks of Lankar shimmered in an ephemeral haze.
"We've made it," Keldar said.
"Not yet."
Annastatia was worn, cut and bruised. Her eyes had dimmed some, but even the terrors of the Void had receded for the moment. She was in the present then, looking ahead, same as them all.
None had seen the mountain before. Alton had not believed in it. Haldar had said they would die before they ever crossed the river.
Now he stared with timeless eyes, eyes which had seen things from the Darkness. Eyes which had seen the birth of his kin from the still mirror waters of the Endless Caves. Those eyes had seen more than Haldar could ever have imagined.
"I guess it does exist," Alton said.
He clapped Haldar on the back. An uneasy feeling overcame him with the touch.
*It feels like him,* he thought.
And his thought travelled in the wind of the Void, that invisible world which held all the unknown things, the things that caused madness.
"Yes," Annastatia said.
She looked at Haldar.
"What?" said Keldar.
She shook her head.
They were weary and made camp on the hill. For the days past they had slept during the day, marched in the night. Their bodies were worn and tired, a piece of them all left behind in the Grey River.
*The price was worth it,* Keldar thought.
He was an older man, a knight in youth, and now his world had gone and he was alone but for adventure.
*Is it?*
He could not answer himself and the question lingered, unanswered by even Annastatia. They were quiet there on the hill. Midday came with a scarce lunch and perfunctory talk.
"I've never been so far," said Alton.
They agreed. Home had sunk away like the dying sun, and this endless night of the unknown still had miles yet to go.
"We're alive though," Keldar said.
"Yes," Annastatia said.
They looked at Haldar. Behind those eyes were the midnight of malice. But that malice reflected the sun, and then it was blue and immediate and true.
"I made it," Haldar said. "Barely by the skin of my leather, but I made it."
In the Grey River there were ancient cliffs, hills and holes. There amidst that pocked earth lived the unknown things, the things which embraced the Darkness.
In that place Haldar had fallen into the murky waters of the Grey River and its currents had taken him.
His screams had pierced the Void then, echoing even on the hill they now camped on. Annastatia winced and she saw the time as it floated past in the forever winds of that realm.
"Help!" Haldar cried.
Her hand held her staff. Every inch of her was prepared to hold it for him to grab on to. She saw it happening, feeling his weight and the rescue. And yet she hesitated.
"Help!"
She had remembered the times before. His hand caressing hers, teasing some unwanted strength, threatening in the vaguest of ways. And even then his thoughts were certain of his foul desire.
And so the river had taken him and they all had watched. They had let it happen as the waters surrounded him in an opaque cover, the burial of some unwanted pest, and they feigned the mourning as all good friends should do.
Then they were three.
But he had come back. The first trees were tall and skinny and gave little shade. Their slanting shadows were bars as they passed, looking like prisoners in a dream world, and then from that shifting prison, Haldar had come, wet and worn. The Grey River had taken much from him, he said, and he was different, completely different.
"I left more of my soul there than you," he said.
They looked at him and knew what he was, or what he wasn't. That night they discussed it in secret, and decided they would bide time before doing what must be done.
Three days had passed since then, but that time still had not come.
Sleep overcame them and they rested awhile. The falling sun awoke them to a red and orange sky and their shadows spilled past the hill.
"Statia," Alton said.
He was stretching.
"Yes?"
"I've had a bad dream. Worse than any of the others before."
"Was it of your past? The stealing in your mother's house?"
"No. No it was..."
She saw his face. She touched his head and the after images of the fading dream kindled within her.
Haldar stared beneath a blackened sky, alone and afraid. All around a great water rushed him, surrounding him with its endless sound.
The dream faded and she recoiled.
"I... I have no remedy," she said.
She looked at Haldar. The thing which pretended to be him looked at her and smiled. Though shifters like him were not connected as strongly to the Void, she could feel his thoughts in the air, like some distant food that has long been eaten.
*He means me no malice. Not like his...*
Victim. But she could not say the word.
Keldar walked to Haldar and put his hand on his shoulder.
"How is your wound?"
"Better now," Haldar said.
*He feels the same*, Keldar thought. *He really does.*
Then they packed their things and prepared for another night of walking. Lankar glittered in the night like some crystal, and yet soft as home's bed sheets on a cold night.
"What's there again?" Haldar asked.
He looked at them to see if any suspected. He thought they did. He thought he should kill them, but living in the black had not tainted his heart.
*Never have I seen such beauty as her.*
And in the moonlight Annastatia was some Queen, the kind of which no longer walks this world. Some distant being, ghost-like and tender, and yet strong and hardy with eyes opened into the real world.
*But she is Keldar's.*
And he felt sad. He felt the light on him and looked up.
*I should kill them and have her to myself.*
But she would die first before such things could happen. She would kill him then surely. They already considered the deed. He closed his eyes. The light painted him with a warmth the others could not feel.
*They have not lived in the dark,* he thought. *They are human. Weak and ignorant of the Dark, for they know not of such things.*
"Lankar," Alton said. "The mountain of Dreams. There, as legend goes, is the Spring of Dreaming. One sip of its water will change you. It will make whatever is in your heart come true."
"It can change the world physically?"
"No," said Annastatia. "But it will change *you*. It will change the spirit so that what you hold dearest will come true in a way of its own. It is not a place of wishes."
"It is like the Grey River then?" Haldar asked.
"Yes, in a sense. But it does not take. It gives and cleanses."
Then they were quiet. In their hearts they were uneasy. Haldar's death weighed immensely on them.
*The Spring will clean me,* Keldar thought.
Annastatia held him. Her face was pretty in the white light and he looked at her and loved her anew once more. He put his arm around her.
*I am an evil man,* he thought.
She looked at him with those sad eyes of hers.
*If that be true, then so are we all my love.*
He squeezed her hand.
*What hope is there then? This guilt weighs too heavy on me.*
*The Spring, as you've thought. The Spring is our only hope. Haldar was a fool. The River took him of its own choosing. His heart was black, blacker than this imposter.*
"I like you," Alton said to Haldar. "I don't know if you understand, but I'll be truthful. I like you."
And Haldar, the thing, understood as much. It too had thoughts that raged in an incomprehensible storm.
"I like you too," he said. "All of you."
"Then may the Spring save us," Keldar said.
And they marched in silence as the night slowly passed.
-
*Hi there! If you liked this story, please consider my subreddit r/PanMan. It has all my WP stories as well as some original ones. I'm slowly working on it and getting it to look nicer, so I promise it will look better soon. Thank you!* | |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | "That was..." Brawg began, staggering over the bodies of the fallen goblins, his boots squelching in the treacle-like blood.
"Far too..." said Vesperr, returning her bow to her back, and beginning to pluck out arrows from the deceased enemies.
"Oxyrin!" finished Oxyrin, his pointed hat falling over his eyes once again. Dribble oozed down from his mouth and his pupils spun this way and that, as if two compasses confused by magnets.
Brawg and Vesperr looked at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing. Brawg brought a thunderous hand down on the wizard's back. "Don't ever change, Oxyrin!" he said.
"Oh, Oxyrin," grinned Vesperr, "you're the reason we do this, you know? For that smile on your face." She wiped away a the spittle from his lips, then shook her finger, sending the spit plopping onto the ground.
"Oxyrin!" Oxyrin repeated. A pointed tongue darted out of his mouth and latched onto a fly that was hovering over a brutalised body below.
"I'm going to pretend I didn't just see that," said Brawg with a wink. "Okay gang, I'd say we're all done here. I believe its time to go collect our reward."
"Not so fast, my friends," came a mysterious voice from behind them. Only, when they turned, there was *nothing* behind them.
Slowly, the blue-robed wizard hazed into existence. "It is I, the *real* Oxyrin! I have been trapped for the longest time, but I have finally outsmarted my captors and have returned to my friends. For no one is as clever as the Great Oxyrin!"
Brawg and Vesperr glanced at each other, then let out a joint gasp.
"Quite you might gasp," said Oxyrin, as he turned and pointed an accusing finger at the other blue wizard, who was now on all fours chasing after a spider. "For that fellow, has fooled you, my dear friends. But he is nothing more than an impostor! A Doppelganger! A fake, a fraud, and dare I say it, a phoney."
Brawg nudged Vesperr and they both gasped again.
"How.. erm, how can we believe you?" asked Vesperr, her top lip wet with nervous sweat. "How do we know he--"she pointed to the to the wizard, who was now chewing on something--"isn't the real Oxyrin. After all, he would have had to fool us both for two entire years."
Oxyrin rolled his eyes. "Hardly a challenging task. You two never were the"--his hands burst into blue flames--"brightest sparks. Ha. Hahaha."
Brawg's muscles tensed. Vesperr put a hand against his chest.
"That's not proof enough. For our Oxyrin can also do such petty parlour tricks."
"Very well," Oxyrin sighed, "I shall prove it. We shall have a wizard-off."
"Smart," said Vesperr. She let out a high pitched whistle, at which the other Oxyrin came bounding over to her.
"Oxyrin!" he sputtered as he arrived.
"Is that all he can say? How could you *possibly* believe he was me?"
"Good point," said Brawg. "His vocabulary is much larger."
"Oh. You made a joke. How very amusing."
"Okay," said Vesperr. "Round one of the wizard-off. *Shape-shifting.*"
"What? What a stupid round," complained Oxyrin, "for sniffing out a shape-shifter!" His face was red and a vein popped out of his forehead, pulsating like waves on the ocean. "Unbelievable idiocy. How you have possibly survived this long without me to guide you -- heaven only knows!"
"Oxyrin!" replied the other Oxyrin.
"Well, if you can't do it and he can..." said Brawg shrugging, "then I guess we know who the real wizard is."
"Oh... *pish!* Very well. And what must we change into, pray tell?"
"Something very small. To really challenge your morphitisation skills. A fly. Simple. First one to transform into a fly wins."
"Sala kazoo, Sala kazam!" shouted Oxyrin. There was a puff of smoke that left Vesperr and Brawg coughing. As it cleared, and only for the briefest moment, they saw a fly. Then, they saw a huge, pointed tongue. Finally, they saw an Oxyrin chewing on and then swallowing *something*.
"Oxyrin!" he shouted triumphantly, as Brawg and Vesperr collapsed into a fit of laughter.
"Oh Oxyrin," said Brawg, slapping him on the back "you really are too much."
"And," said Vesperr, "we wouldn't have it any other way!"
| The miles between them had come and gone, leaving scars and wounds and memories and laughs. The horizon that day was clear, and the world fell into green and yellow, and far away were the mountains, and everything was cloaked in a dream. They had come far. The first peaks of Lankar shimmered in an ephemeral haze.
"We've made it," Keldar said.
"Not yet."
Annastatia was worn, cut and bruised. Her eyes had dimmed some, but even the terrors of the Void had receded for the moment. She was in the present then, looking ahead, same as them all.
None had seen the mountain before. Alton had not believed in it. Haldar had said they would die before they ever crossed the river.
Now he stared with timeless eyes, eyes which had seen things from the Darkness. Eyes which had seen the birth of his kin from the still mirror waters of the Endless Caves. Those eyes had seen more than Haldar could ever have imagined.
"I guess it does exist," Alton said.
He clapped Haldar on the back. An uneasy feeling overcame him with the touch.
*It feels like him,* he thought.
And his thought travelled in the wind of the Void, that invisible world which held all the unknown things, the things that caused madness.
"Yes," Annastatia said.
She looked at Haldar.
"What?" said Keldar.
She shook her head.
They were weary and made camp on the hill. For the days past they had slept during the day, marched in the night. Their bodies were worn and tired, a piece of them all left behind in the Grey River.
*The price was worth it,* Keldar thought.
He was an older man, a knight in youth, and now his world had gone and he was alone but for adventure.
*Is it?*
He could not answer himself and the question lingered, unanswered by even Annastatia. They were quiet there on the hill. Midday came with a scarce lunch and perfunctory talk.
"I've never been so far," said Alton.
They agreed. Home had sunk away like the dying sun, and this endless night of the unknown still had miles yet to go.
"We're alive though," Keldar said.
"Yes," Annastatia said.
They looked at Haldar. Behind those eyes were the midnight of malice. But that malice reflected the sun, and then it was blue and immediate and true.
"I made it," Haldar said. "Barely by the skin of my leather, but I made it."
In the Grey River there were ancient cliffs, hills and holes. There amidst that pocked earth lived the unknown things, the things which embraced the Darkness.
In that place Haldar had fallen into the murky waters of the Grey River and its currents had taken him.
His screams had pierced the Void then, echoing even on the hill they now camped on. Annastatia winced and she saw the time as it floated past in the forever winds of that realm.
"Help!" Haldar cried.
Her hand held her staff. Every inch of her was prepared to hold it for him to grab on to. She saw it happening, feeling his weight and the rescue. And yet she hesitated.
"Help!"
She had remembered the times before. His hand caressing hers, teasing some unwanted strength, threatening in the vaguest of ways. And even then his thoughts were certain of his foul desire.
And so the river had taken him and they all had watched. They had let it happen as the waters surrounded him in an opaque cover, the burial of some unwanted pest, and they feigned the mourning as all good friends should do.
Then they were three.
But he had come back. The first trees were tall and skinny and gave little shade. Their slanting shadows were bars as they passed, looking like prisoners in a dream world, and then from that shifting prison, Haldar had come, wet and worn. The Grey River had taken much from him, he said, and he was different, completely different.
"I left more of my soul there than you," he said.
They looked at him and knew what he was, or what he wasn't. That night they discussed it in secret, and decided they would bide time before doing what must be done.
Three days had passed since then, but that time still had not come.
Sleep overcame them and they rested awhile. The falling sun awoke them to a red and orange sky and their shadows spilled past the hill.
"Statia," Alton said.
He was stretching.
"Yes?"
"I've had a bad dream. Worse than any of the others before."
"Was it of your past? The stealing in your mother's house?"
"No. No it was..."
She saw his face. She touched his head and the after images of the fading dream kindled within her.
Haldar stared beneath a blackened sky, alone and afraid. All around a great water rushed him, surrounding him with its endless sound.
The dream faded and she recoiled.
"I... I have no remedy," she said.
She looked at Haldar. The thing which pretended to be him looked at her and smiled. Though shifters like him were not connected as strongly to the Void, she could feel his thoughts in the air, like some distant food that has long been eaten.
*He means me no malice. Not like his...*
Victim. But she could not say the word.
Keldar walked to Haldar and put his hand on his shoulder.
"How is your wound?"
"Better now," Haldar said.
*He feels the same*, Keldar thought. *He really does.*
Then they packed their things and prepared for another night of walking. Lankar glittered in the night like some crystal, and yet soft as home's bed sheets on a cold night.
"What's there again?" Haldar asked.
He looked at them to see if any suspected. He thought they did. He thought he should kill them, but living in the black had not tainted his heart.
*Never have I seen such beauty as her.*
And in the moonlight Annastatia was some Queen, the kind of which no longer walks this world. Some distant being, ghost-like and tender, and yet strong and hardy with eyes opened into the real world.
*But she is Keldar's.*
And he felt sad. He felt the light on him and looked up.
*I should kill them and have her to myself.*
But she would die first before such things could happen. She would kill him then surely. They already considered the deed. He closed his eyes. The light painted him with a warmth the others could not feel.
*They have not lived in the dark,* he thought. *They are human. Weak and ignorant of the Dark, for they know not of such things.*
"Lankar," Alton said. "The mountain of Dreams. There, as legend goes, is the Spring of Dreaming. One sip of its water will change you. It will make whatever is in your heart come true."
"It can change the world physically?"
"No," said Annastatia. "But it will change *you*. It will change the spirit so that what you hold dearest will come true in a way of its own. It is not a place of wishes."
"It is like the Grey River then?" Haldar asked.
"Yes, in a sense. But it does not take. It gives and cleanses."
Then they were quiet. In their hearts they were uneasy. Haldar's death weighed immensely on them.
*The Spring will clean me,* Keldar thought.
Annastatia held him. Her face was pretty in the white light and he looked at her and loved her anew once more. He put his arm around her.
*I am an evil man,* he thought.
She looked at him with those sad eyes of hers.
*If that be true, then so are we all my love.*
He squeezed her hand.
*What hope is there then? This guilt weighs too heavy on me.*
*The Spring, as you've thought. The Spring is our only hope. Haldar was a fool. The River took him of its own choosing. His heart was black, blacker than this imposter.*
"I like you," Alton said to Haldar. "I don't know if you understand, but I'll be truthful. I like you."
And Haldar, the thing, understood as much. It too had thoughts that raged in an incomprehensible storm.
"I like you too," he said. "All of you."
"Then may the Spring save us," Keldar said.
And they marched in silence as the night slowly passed.
-
*Hi there! If you liked this story, please consider my subreddit r/PanMan. It has all my WP stories as well as some original ones. I'm slowly working on it and getting it to look nicer, so I promise it will look better soon. Thank you!* | |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | "That was..." Brawg began, staggering over the bodies of the fallen goblins, his boots squelching in the treacle-like blood.
"Far too..." said Vesperr, returning her bow to her back, and beginning to pluck out arrows from the deceased enemies.
"Oxyrin!" finished Oxyrin, his pointed hat falling over his eyes once again. Dribble oozed down from his mouth and his pupils spun this way and that, as if two compasses confused by magnets.
Brawg and Vesperr looked at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing. Brawg brought a thunderous hand down on the wizard's back. "Don't ever change, Oxyrin!" he said.
"Oh, Oxyrin," grinned Vesperr, "you're the reason we do this, you know? For that smile on your face." She wiped away a the spittle from his lips, then shook her finger, sending the spit plopping onto the ground.
"Oxyrin!" Oxyrin repeated. A pointed tongue darted out of his mouth and latched onto a fly that was hovering over a brutalised body below.
"I'm going to pretend I didn't just see that," said Brawg with a wink. "Okay gang, I'd say we're all done here. I believe its time to go collect our reward."
"Not so fast, my friends," came a mysterious voice from behind them. Only, when they turned, there was *nothing* behind them.
Slowly, the blue-robed wizard hazed into existence. "It is I, the *real* Oxyrin! I have been trapped for the longest time, but I have finally outsmarted my captors and have returned to my friends. For no one is as clever as the Great Oxyrin!"
Brawg and Vesperr glanced at each other, then let out a joint gasp.
"Quite you might gasp," said Oxyrin, as he turned and pointed an accusing finger at the other blue wizard, who was now on all fours chasing after a spider. "For that fellow, has fooled you, my dear friends. But he is nothing more than an impostor! A Doppelganger! A fake, a fraud, and dare I say it, a phoney."
Brawg nudged Vesperr and they both gasped again.
"How.. erm, how can we believe you?" asked Vesperr, her top lip wet with nervous sweat. "How do we know he--"she pointed to the to the wizard, who was now chewing on something--"isn't the real Oxyrin. After all, he would have had to fool us both for two entire years."
Oxyrin rolled his eyes. "Hardly a challenging task. You two never were the"--his hands burst into blue flames--"brightest sparks. Ha. Hahaha."
Brawg's muscles tensed. Vesperr put a hand against his chest.
"That's not proof enough. For our Oxyrin can also do such petty parlour tricks."
"Very well," Oxyrin sighed, "I shall prove it. We shall have a wizard-off."
"Smart," said Vesperr. She let out a high pitched whistle, at which the other Oxyrin came bounding over to her.
"Oxyrin!" he sputtered as he arrived.
"Is that all he can say? How could you *possibly* believe he was me?"
"Good point," said Brawg. "His vocabulary is much larger."
"Oh. You made a joke. How very amusing."
"Okay," said Vesperr. "Round one of the wizard-off. *Shape-shifting.*"
"What? What a stupid round," complained Oxyrin, "for sniffing out a shape-shifter!" His face was red and a vein popped out of his forehead, pulsating like waves on the ocean. "Unbelievable idiocy. How you have possibly survived this long without me to guide you -- heaven only knows!"
"Oxyrin!" replied the other Oxyrin.
"Well, if you can't do it and he can..." said Brawg shrugging, "then I guess we know who the real wizard is."
"Oh... *pish!* Very well. And what must we change into, pray tell?"
"Something very small. To really challenge your morphitisation skills. A fly. Simple. First one to transform into a fly wins."
"Sala kazoo, Sala kazam!" shouted Oxyrin. There was a puff of smoke that left Vesperr and Brawg coughing. As it cleared, and only for the briefest moment, they saw a fly. Then, they saw a huge, pointed tongue. Finally, they saw an Oxyrin chewing on and then swallowing *something*.
"Oxyrin!" he shouted triumphantly, as Brawg and Vesperr collapsed into a fit of laughter.
"Oh Oxyrin," said Brawg, slapping him on the back "you really are too much."
"And," said Vesperr, "we wouldn't have it any other way!"
| The miles between them had come and gone, leaving scars and wounds and memories and laughs. The horizon that day was clear, and the world fell into green and yellow, and far away were the mountains, and everything was cloaked in a dream. They had come far. The first peaks of Lankar shimmered in an ephemeral haze.
"We've made it," Keldar said.
"Not yet."
Annastatia was worn, cut and bruised. Her eyes had dimmed some, but even the terrors of the Void had receded for the moment. She was in the present then, looking ahead, same as them all.
None had seen the mountain before. Alton had not believed in it. Haldar had said they would die before they ever crossed the river.
Now he stared with timeless eyes, eyes which had seen things from the Darkness. Eyes which had seen the birth of his kin from the still mirror waters of the Endless Caves. Those eyes had seen more than Haldar could ever have imagined.
"I guess it does exist," Alton said.
He clapped Haldar on the back. An uneasy feeling overcame him with the touch.
*It feels like him,* he thought.
And his thought travelled in the wind of the Void, that invisible world which held all the unknown things, the things that caused madness.
"Yes," Annastatia said.
She looked at Haldar.
"What?" said Keldar.
She shook her head.
They were weary and made camp on the hill. For the days past they had slept during the day, marched in the night. Their bodies were worn and tired, a piece of them all left behind in the Grey River.
*The price was worth it,* Keldar thought.
He was an older man, a knight in youth, and now his world had gone and he was alone but for adventure.
*Is it?*
He could not answer himself and the question lingered, unanswered by even Annastatia. They were quiet there on the hill. Midday came with a scarce lunch and perfunctory talk.
"I've never been so far," said Alton.
They agreed. Home had sunk away like the dying sun, and this endless night of the unknown still had miles yet to go.
"We're alive though," Keldar said.
"Yes," Annastatia said.
They looked at Haldar. Behind those eyes were the midnight of malice. But that malice reflected the sun, and then it was blue and immediate and true.
"I made it," Haldar said. "Barely by the skin of my leather, but I made it."
In the Grey River there were ancient cliffs, hills and holes. There amidst that pocked earth lived the unknown things, the things which embraced the Darkness.
In that place Haldar had fallen into the murky waters of the Grey River and its currents had taken him.
His screams had pierced the Void then, echoing even on the hill they now camped on. Annastatia winced and she saw the time as it floated past in the forever winds of that realm.
"Help!" Haldar cried.
Her hand held her staff. Every inch of her was prepared to hold it for him to grab on to. She saw it happening, feeling his weight and the rescue. And yet she hesitated.
"Help!"
She had remembered the times before. His hand caressing hers, teasing some unwanted strength, threatening in the vaguest of ways. And even then his thoughts were certain of his foul desire.
And so the river had taken him and they all had watched. They had let it happen as the waters surrounded him in an opaque cover, the burial of some unwanted pest, and they feigned the mourning as all good friends should do.
Then they were three.
But he had come back. The first trees were tall and skinny and gave little shade. Their slanting shadows were bars as they passed, looking like prisoners in a dream world, and then from that shifting prison, Haldar had come, wet and worn. The Grey River had taken much from him, he said, and he was different, completely different.
"I left more of my soul there than you," he said.
They looked at him and knew what he was, or what he wasn't. That night they discussed it in secret, and decided they would bide time before doing what must be done.
Three days had passed since then, but that time still had not come.
Sleep overcame them and they rested awhile. The falling sun awoke them to a red and orange sky and their shadows spilled past the hill.
"Statia," Alton said.
He was stretching.
"Yes?"
"I've had a bad dream. Worse than any of the others before."
"Was it of your past? The stealing in your mother's house?"
"No. No it was..."
She saw his face. She touched his head and the after images of the fading dream kindled within her.
Haldar stared beneath a blackened sky, alone and afraid. All around a great water rushed him, surrounding him with its endless sound.
The dream faded and she recoiled.
"I... I have no remedy," she said.
She looked at Haldar. The thing which pretended to be him looked at her and smiled. Though shifters like him were not connected as strongly to the Void, she could feel his thoughts in the air, like some distant food that has long been eaten.
*He means me no malice. Not like his...*
Victim. But she could not say the word.
Keldar walked to Haldar and put his hand on his shoulder.
"How is your wound?"
"Better now," Haldar said.
*He feels the same*, Keldar thought. *He really does.*
Then they packed their things and prepared for another night of walking. Lankar glittered in the night like some crystal, and yet soft as home's bed sheets on a cold night.
"What's there again?" Haldar asked.
He looked at them to see if any suspected. He thought they did. He thought he should kill them, but living in the black had not tainted his heart.
*Never have I seen such beauty as her.*
And in the moonlight Annastatia was some Queen, the kind of which no longer walks this world. Some distant being, ghost-like and tender, and yet strong and hardy with eyes opened into the real world.
*But she is Keldar's.*
And he felt sad. He felt the light on him and looked up.
*I should kill them and have her to myself.*
But she would die first before such things could happen. She would kill him then surely. They already considered the deed. He closed his eyes. The light painted him with a warmth the others could not feel.
*They have not lived in the dark,* he thought. *They are human. Weak and ignorant of the Dark, for they know not of such things.*
"Lankar," Alton said. "The mountain of Dreams. There, as legend goes, is the Spring of Dreaming. One sip of its water will change you. It will make whatever is in your heart come true."
"It can change the world physically?"
"No," said Annastatia. "But it will change *you*. It will change the spirit so that what you hold dearest will come true in a way of its own. It is not a place of wishes."
"It is like the Grey River then?" Haldar asked.
"Yes, in a sense. But it does not take. It gives and cleanses."
Then they were quiet. In their hearts they were uneasy. Haldar's death weighed immensely on them.
*The Spring will clean me,* Keldar thought.
Annastatia held him. Her face was pretty in the white light and he looked at her and loved her anew once more. He put his arm around her.
*I am an evil man,* he thought.
She looked at him with those sad eyes of hers.
*If that be true, then so are we all my love.*
He squeezed her hand.
*What hope is there then? This guilt weighs too heavy on me.*
*The Spring, as you've thought. The Spring is our only hope. Haldar was a fool. The River took him of its own choosing. His heart was black, blacker than this imposter.*
"I like you," Alton said to Haldar. "I don't know if you understand, but I'll be truthful. I like you."
And Haldar, the thing, understood as much. It too had thoughts that raged in an incomprehensible storm.
"I like you too," he said. "All of you."
"Then may the Spring save us," Keldar said.
And they marched in silence as the night slowly passed.
-
*Hi there! If you liked this story, please consider my subreddit r/PanMan. It has all my WP stories as well as some original ones. I'm slowly working on it and getting it to look nicer, so I promise it will look better soon. Thank you!* | |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | "A fine...mead?!" Rorik shouts over the din of the tavern. His companions smile and nod along with him as he sings some old barbarian tune.
Sings it wrong. They don't tell him that though.
Delia, the group's cleric leans over to their mage.
"Do you think he knows?"
Melvar just shakes his head and holds out a palm towards their massive friend. Friend as of lately, of course. Rorik was a massive pain for the group long before the shifter stole his face.
"He definitely doesn't but...I think I like him. Rorik was a bit of a jerk, always running off into the dungeons with that stupid battlecry. Remember when we went into the Crypt of Alohar, how many good people did he get killed?"
"Yeah...he's kinda cute now. Like a child or something."
They both watch Rorik move around the tavern with his mug and talk to other groups of adventurers. He's loud but not overbearing. He listens to the stories of others instead of telling his own. He drinks but not to excess. He is nothing like the barbarian they all had come to know and...
Melvar doesn't quite finish the thought.
"You know what Del, I like him. I know he's a shifter but look at everyone. We all know and he's trying so hard to be like Rorik but he just can't. I don't think there's a mean bone in that thing's body. You know that he hasn't made fun of my beard once, not in months."
She snorts. The young mage was trying so hard to grow it out and he'd been self-conscious about it for months.
A warrior passing by their table to his own party leans over and whispers it to the pair.
"You should keep him. He's an improvement."
"Friends!" Rorik shouts, sitting again at their table, "What fun! And we do this between every adventure? And people give us gold to go on those adventures? To spend here? Amazing!"
He is off again before they can even respond.
"Do you think The Dwarf knows?" Melvar watches Rorik join another random group of adventures and sing yet another song. Still wrong.
Delia shrugs.
"I don't know and I don't care. We're gonna keep him. He's like a dog or something. But useful."
Melvar strokes his "beard" for a moment.
"Alright, we'll keep him. But I swear if he ever makes fun of my beard-"
"What? You'll strangle him with one of your wisps? You should really shave, you're looking more like a magical hobo than a wizard. 'I cast: smell of unwashedness!'"
As she walks away laughing at her own joke Melvar narrows his eyes. He lifts his mug and mutters something into it before drinking.
"I'll replace you too if I have to..." | The miles between them had come and gone, leaving scars and wounds and memories and laughs. The horizon that day was clear, and the world fell into green and yellow, and far away were the mountains, and everything was cloaked in a dream. They had come far. The first peaks of Lankar shimmered in an ephemeral haze.
"We've made it," Keldar said.
"Not yet."
Annastatia was worn, cut and bruised. Her eyes had dimmed some, but even the terrors of the Void had receded for the moment. She was in the present then, looking ahead, same as them all.
None had seen the mountain before. Alton had not believed in it. Haldar had said they would die before they ever crossed the river.
Now he stared with timeless eyes, eyes which had seen things from the Darkness. Eyes which had seen the birth of his kin from the still mirror waters of the Endless Caves. Those eyes had seen more than Haldar could ever have imagined.
"I guess it does exist," Alton said.
He clapped Haldar on the back. An uneasy feeling overcame him with the touch.
*It feels like him,* he thought.
And his thought travelled in the wind of the Void, that invisible world which held all the unknown things, the things that caused madness.
"Yes," Annastatia said.
She looked at Haldar.
"What?" said Keldar.
She shook her head.
They were weary and made camp on the hill. For the days past they had slept during the day, marched in the night. Their bodies were worn and tired, a piece of them all left behind in the Grey River.
*The price was worth it,* Keldar thought.
He was an older man, a knight in youth, and now his world had gone and he was alone but for adventure.
*Is it?*
He could not answer himself and the question lingered, unanswered by even Annastatia. They were quiet there on the hill. Midday came with a scarce lunch and perfunctory talk.
"I've never been so far," said Alton.
They agreed. Home had sunk away like the dying sun, and this endless night of the unknown still had miles yet to go.
"We're alive though," Keldar said.
"Yes," Annastatia said.
They looked at Haldar. Behind those eyes were the midnight of malice. But that malice reflected the sun, and then it was blue and immediate and true.
"I made it," Haldar said. "Barely by the skin of my leather, but I made it."
In the Grey River there were ancient cliffs, hills and holes. There amidst that pocked earth lived the unknown things, the things which embraced the Darkness.
In that place Haldar had fallen into the murky waters of the Grey River and its currents had taken him.
His screams had pierced the Void then, echoing even on the hill they now camped on. Annastatia winced and she saw the time as it floated past in the forever winds of that realm.
"Help!" Haldar cried.
Her hand held her staff. Every inch of her was prepared to hold it for him to grab on to. She saw it happening, feeling his weight and the rescue. And yet she hesitated.
"Help!"
She had remembered the times before. His hand caressing hers, teasing some unwanted strength, threatening in the vaguest of ways. And even then his thoughts were certain of his foul desire.
And so the river had taken him and they all had watched. They had let it happen as the waters surrounded him in an opaque cover, the burial of some unwanted pest, and they feigned the mourning as all good friends should do.
Then they were three.
But he had come back. The first trees were tall and skinny and gave little shade. Their slanting shadows were bars as they passed, looking like prisoners in a dream world, and then from that shifting prison, Haldar had come, wet and worn. The Grey River had taken much from him, he said, and he was different, completely different.
"I left more of my soul there than you," he said.
They looked at him and knew what he was, or what he wasn't. That night they discussed it in secret, and decided they would bide time before doing what must be done.
Three days had passed since then, but that time still had not come.
Sleep overcame them and they rested awhile. The falling sun awoke them to a red and orange sky and their shadows spilled past the hill.
"Statia," Alton said.
He was stretching.
"Yes?"
"I've had a bad dream. Worse than any of the others before."
"Was it of your past? The stealing in your mother's house?"
"No. No it was..."
She saw his face. She touched his head and the after images of the fading dream kindled within her.
Haldar stared beneath a blackened sky, alone and afraid. All around a great water rushed him, surrounding him with its endless sound.
The dream faded and she recoiled.
"I... I have no remedy," she said.
She looked at Haldar. The thing which pretended to be him looked at her and smiled. Though shifters like him were not connected as strongly to the Void, she could feel his thoughts in the air, like some distant food that has long been eaten.
*He means me no malice. Not like his...*
Victim. But she could not say the word.
Keldar walked to Haldar and put his hand on his shoulder.
"How is your wound?"
"Better now," Haldar said.
*He feels the same*, Keldar thought. *He really does.*
Then they packed their things and prepared for another night of walking. Lankar glittered in the night like some crystal, and yet soft as home's bed sheets on a cold night.
"What's there again?" Haldar asked.
He looked at them to see if any suspected. He thought they did. He thought he should kill them, but living in the black had not tainted his heart.
*Never have I seen such beauty as her.*
And in the moonlight Annastatia was some Queen, the kind of which no longer walks this world. Some distant being, ghost-like and tender, and yet strong and hardy with eyes opened into the real world.
*But she is Keldar's.*
And he felt sad. He felt the light on him and looked up.
*I should kill them and have her to myself.*
But she would die first before such things could happen. She would kill him then surely. They already considered the deed. He closed his eyes. The light painted him with a warmth the others could not feel.
*They have not lived in the dark,* he thought. *They are human. Weak and ignorant of the Dark, for they know not of such things.*
"Lankar," Alton said. "The mountain of Dreams. There, as legend goes, is the Spring of Dreaming. One sip of its water will change you. It will make whatever is in your heart come true."
"It can change the world physically?"
"No," said Annastatia. "But it will change *you*. It will change the spirit so that what you hold dearest will come true in a way of its own. It is not a place of wishes."
"It is like the Grey River then?" Haldar asked.
"Yes, in a sense. But it does not take. It gives and cleanses."
Then they were quiet. In their hearts they were uneasy. Haldar's death weighed immensely on them.
*The Spring will clean me,* Keldar thought.
Annastatia held him. Her face was pretty in the white light and he looked at her and loved her anew once more. He put his arm around her.
*I am an evil man,* he thought.
She looked at him with those sad eyes of hers.
*If that be true, then so are we all my love.*
He squeezed her hand.
*What hope is there then? This guilt weighs too heavy on me.*
*The Spring, as you've thought. The Spring is our only hope. Haldar was a fool. The River took him of its own choosing. His heart was black, blacker than this imposter.*
"I like you," Alton said to Haldar. "I don't know if you understand, but I'll be truthful. I like you."
And Haldar, the thing, understood as much. It too had thoughts that raged in an incomprehensible storm.
"I like you too," he said. "All of you."
"Then may the Spring save us," Keldar said.
And they marched in silence as the night slowly passed.
-
*Hi there! If you liked this story, please consider my subreddit r/PanMan. It has all my WP stories as well as some original ones. I'm slowly working on it and getting it to look nicer, so I promise it will look better soon. Thank you!* | |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | "That was..." Brawg began, staggering over the bodies of the fallen goblins, his boots squelching in the treacle-like blood.
"Far too..." said Vesperr, returning her bow to her back, and beginning to pluck out arrows from the deceased enemies.
"Oxyrin!" finished Oxyrin, his pointed hat falling over his eyes once again. Dribble oozed down from his mouth and his pupils spun this way and that, as if two compasses confused by magnets.
Brawg and Vesperr looked at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing. Brawg brought a thunderous hand down on the wizard's back. "Don't ever change, Oxyrin!" he said.
"Oh, Oxyrin," grinned Vesperr, "you're the reason we do this, you know? For that smile on your face." She wiped away a the spittle from his lips, then shook her finger, sending the spit plopping onto the ground.
"Oxyrin!" Oxyrin repeated. A pointed tongue darted out of his mouth and latched onto a fly that was hovering over a brutalised body below.
"I'm going to pretend I didn't just see that," said Brawg with a wink. "Okay gang, I'd say we're all done here. I believe its time to go collect our reward."
"Not so fast, my friends," came a mysterious voice from behind them. Only, when they turned, there was *nothing* behind them.
Slowly, the blue-robed wizard hazed into existence. "It is I, the *real* Oxyrin! I have been trapped for the longest time, but I have finally outsmarted my captors and have returned to my friends. For no one is as clever as the Great Oxyrin!"
Brawg and Vesperr glanced at each other, then let out a joint gasp.
"Quite you might gasp," said Oxyrin, as he turned and pointed an accusing finger at the other blue wizard, who was now on all fours chasing after a spider. "For that fellow, has fooled you, my dear friends. But he is nothing more than an impostor! A Doppelganger! A fake, a fraud, and dare I say it, a phoney."
Brawg nudged Vesperr and they both gasped again.
"How.. erm, how can we believe you?" asked Vesperr, her top lip wet with nervous sweat. "How do we know he--"she pointed to the to the wizard, who was now chewing on something--"isn't the real Oxyrin. After all, he would have had to fool us both for two entire years."
Oxyrin rolled his eyes. "Hardly a challenging task. You two never were the"--his hands burst into blue flames--"brightest sparks. Ha. Hahaha."
Brawg's muscles tensed. Vesperr put a hand against his chest.
"That's not proof enough. For our Oxyrin can also do such petty parlour tricks."
"Very well," Oxyrin sighed, "I shall prove it. We shall have a wizard-off."
"Smart," said Vesperr. She let out a high pitched whistle, at which the other Oxyrin came bounding over to her.
"Oxyrin!" he sputtered as he arrived.
"Is that all he can say? How could you *possibly* believe he was me?"
"Good point," said Brawg. "His vocabulary is much larger."
"Oh. You made a joke. How very amusing."
"Okay," said Vesperr. "Round one of the wizard-off. *Shape-shifting.*"
"What? What a stupid round," complained Oxyrin, "for sniffing out a shape-shifter!" His face was red and a vein popped out of his forehead, pulsating like waves on the ocean. "Unbelievable idiocy. How you have possibly survived this long without me to guide you -- heaven only knows!"
"Oxyrin!" replied the other Oxyrin.
"Well, if you can't do it and he can..." said Brawg shrugging, "then I guess we know who the real wizard is."
"Oh... *pish!* Very well. And what must we change into, pray tell?"
"Something very small. To really challenge your morphitisation skills. A fly. Simple. First one to transform into a fly wins."
"Sala kazoo, Sala kazam!" shouted Oxyrin. There was a puff of smoke that left Vesperr and Brawg coughing. As it cleared, and only for the briefest moment, they saw a fly. Then, they saw a huge, pointed tongue. Finally, they saw an Oxyrin chewing on and then swallowing *something*.
"Oxyrin!" he shouted triumphantly, as Brawg and Vesperr collapsed into a fit of laughter.
"Oh Oxyrin," said Brawg, slapping him on the back "you really are too much."
"And," said Vesperr, "we wouldn't have it any other way!"
| The miles between them had come and gone, leaving scars and wounds and memories and laughs. The horizon that day was clear, and the world fell into green and yellow, and far away were the mountains, and everything was cloaked in a dream. They had come far. The first peaks of Lankar shimmered in an ephemeral haze.
"We've made it," Keldar said.
"Not yet."
Annastatia was worn, cut and bruised. Her eyes had dimmed some, but even the terrors of the Void had receded for the moment. She was in the present then, looking ahead, same as them all.
None had seen the mountain before. Alton had not believed in it. Haldar had said they would die before they ever crossed the river.
Now he stared with timeless eyes, eyes which had seen things from the Darkness. Eyes which had seen the birth of his kin from the still mirror waters of the Endless Caves. Those eyes had seen more than Haldar could ever have imagined.
"I guess it does exist," Alton said.
He clapped Haldar on the back. An uneasy feeling overcame him with the touch.
*It feels like him,* he thought.
And his thought travelled in the wind of the Void, that invisible world which held all the unknown things, the things that caused madness.
"Yes," Annastatia said.
She looked at Haldar.
"What?" said Keldar.
She shook her head.
They were weary and made camp on the hill. For the days past they had slept during the day, marched in the night. Their bodies were worn and tired, a piece of them all left behind in the Grey River.
*The price was worth it,* Keldar thought.
He was an older man, a knight in youth, and now his world had gone and he was alone but for adventure.
*Is it?*
He could not answer himself and the question lingered, unanswered by even Annastatia. They were quiet there on the hill. Midday came with a scarce lunch and perfunctory talk.
"I've never been so far," said Alton.
They agreed. Home had sunk away like the dying sun, and this endless night of the unknown still had miles yet to go.
"We're alive though," Keldar said.
"Yes," Annastatia said.
They looked at Haldar. Behind those eyes were the midnight of malice. But that malice reflected the sun, and then it was blue and immediate and true.
"I made it," Haldar said. "Barely by the skin of my leather, but I made it."
In the Grey River there were ancient cliffs, hills and holes. There amidst that pocked earth lived the unknown things, the things which embraced the Darkness.
In that place Haldar had fallen into the murky waters of the Grey River and its currents had taken him.
His screams had pierced the Void then, echoing even on the hill they now camped on. Annastatia winced and she saw the time as it floated past in the forever winds of that realm.
"Help!" Haldar cried.
Her hand held her staff. Every inch of her was prepared to hold it for him to grab on to. She saw it happening, feeling his weight and the rescue. And yet she hesitated.
"Help!"
She had remembered the times before. His hand caressing hers, teasing some unwanted strength, threatening in the vaguest of ways. And even then his thoughts were certain of his foul desire.
And so the river had taken him and they all had watched. They had let it happen as the waters surrounded him in an opaque cover, the burial of some unwanted pest, and they feigned the mourning as all good friends should do.
Then they were three.
But he had come back. The first trees were tall and skinny and gave little shade. Their slanting shadows were bars as they passed, looking like prisoners in a dream world, and then from that shifting prison, Haldar had come, wet and worn. The Grey River had taken much from him, he said, and he was different, completely different.
"I left more of my soul there than you," he said.
They looked at him and knew what he was, or what he wasn't. That night they discussed it in secret, and decided they would bide time before doing what must be done.
Three days had passed since then, but that time still had not come.
Sleep overcame them and they rested awhile. The falling sun awoke them to a red and orange sky and their shadows spilled past the hill.
"Statia," Alton said.
He was stretching.
"Yes?"
"I've had a bad dream. Worse than any of the others before."
"Was it of your past? The stealing in your mother's house?"
"No. No it was..."
She saw his face. She touched his head and the after images of the fading dream kindled within her.
Haldar stared beneath a blackened sky, alone and afraid. All around a great water rushed him, surrounding him with its endless sound.
The dream faded and she recoiled.
"I... I have no remedy," she said.
She looked at Haldar. The thing which pretended to be him looked at her and smiled. Though shifters like him were not connected as strongly to the Void, she could feel his thoughts in the air, like some distant food that has long been eaten.
*He means me no malice. Not like his...*
Victim. But she could not say the word.
Keldar walked to Haldar and put his hand on his shoulder.
"How is your wound?"
"Better now," Haldar said.
*He feels the same*, Keldar thought. *He really does.*
Then they packed their things and prepared for another night of walking. Lankar glittered in the night like some crystal, and yet soft as home's bed sheets on a cold night.
"What's there again?" Haldar asked.
He looked at them to see if any suspected. He thought they did. He thought he should kill them, but living in the black had not tainted his heart.
*Never have I seen such beauty as her.*
And in the moonlight Annastatia was some Queen, the kind of which no longer walks this world. Some distant being, ghost-like and tender, and yet strong and hardy with eyes opened into the real world.
*But she is Keldar's.*
And he felt sad. He felt the light on him and looked up.
*I should kill them and have her to myself.*
But she would die first before such things could happen. She would kill him then surely. They already considered the deed. He closed his eyes. The light painted him with a warmth the others could not feel.
*They have not lived in the dark,* he thought. *They are human. Weak and ignorant of the Dark, for they know not of such things.*
"Lankar," Alton said. "The mountain of Dreams. There, as legend goes, is the Spring of Dreaming. One sip of its water will change you. It will make whatever is in your heart come true."
"It can change the world physically?"
"No," said Annastatia. "But it will change *you*. It will change the spirit so that what you hold dearest will come true in a way of its own. It is not a place of wishes."
"It is like the Grey River then?" Haldar asked.
"Yes, in a sense. But it does not take. It gives and cleanses."
Then they were quiet. In their hearts they were uneasy. Haldar's death weighed immensely on them.
*The Spring will clean me,* Keldar thought.
Annastatia held him. Her face was pretty in the white light and he looked at her and loved her anew once more. He put his arm around her.
*I am an evil man,* he thought.
She looked at him with those sad eyes of hers.
*If that be true, then so are we all my love.*
He squeezed her hand.
*What hope is there then? This guilt weighs too heavy on me.*
*The Spring, as you've thought. The Spring is our only hope. Haldar was a fool. The River took him of its own choosing. His heart was black, blacker than this imposter.*
"I like you," Alton said to Haldar. "I don't know if you understand, but I'll be truthful. I like you."
And Haldar, the thing, understood as much. It too had thoughts that raged in an incomprehensible storm.
"I like you too," he said. "All of you."
"Then may the Spring save us," Keldar said.
And they marched in silence as the night slowly passed.
-
*Hi there! If you liked this story, please consider my subreddit r/PanMan. It has all my WP stories as well as some original ones. I'm slowly working on it and getting it to look nicer, so I promise it will look better soon. Thank you!* | |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | "That was..." Brawg began, staggering over the bodies of the fallen goblins, his boots squelching in the treacle-like blood.
"Far too..." said Vesperr, returning her bow to her back, and beginning to pluck out arrows from the deceased enemies.
"Oxyrin!" finished Oxyrin, his pointed hat falling over his eyes once again. Dribble oozed down from his mouth and his pupils spun this way and that, as if two compasses confused by magnets.
Brawg and Vesperr looked at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing. Brawg brought a thunderous hand down on the wizard's back. "Don't ever change, Oxyrin!" he said.
"Oh, Oxyrin," grinned Vesperr, "you're the reason we do this, you know? For that smile on your face." She wiped away a the spittle from his lips, then shook her finger, sending the spit plopping onto the ground.
"Oxyrin!" Oxyrin repeated. A pointed tongue darted out of his mouth and latched onto a fly that was hovering over a brutalised body below.
"I'm going to pretend I didn't just see that," said Brawg with a wink. "Okay gang, I'd say we're all done here. I believe its time to go collect our reward."
"Not so fast, my friends," came a mysterious voice from behind them. Only, when they turned, there was *nothing* behind them.
Slowly, the blue-robed wizard hazed into existence. "It is I, the *real* Oxyrin! I have been trapped for the longest time, but I have finally outsmarted my captors and have returned to my friends. For no one is as clever as the Great Oxyrin!"
Brawg and Vesperr glanced at each other, then let out a joint gasp.
"Quite you might gasp," said Oxyrin, as he turned and pointed an accusing finger at the other blue wizard, who was now on all fours chasing after a spider. "For that fellow, has fooled you, my dear friends. But he is nothing more than an impostor! A Doppelganger! A fake, a fraud, and dare I say it, a phoney."
Brawg nudged Vesperr and they both gasped again.
"How.. erm, how can we believe you?" asked Vesperr, her top lip wet with nervous sweat. "How do we know he--"she pointed to the to the wizard, who was now chewing on something--"isn't the real Oxyrin. After all, he would have had to fool us both for two entire years."
Oxyrin rolled his eyes. "Hardly a challenging task. You two never were the"--his hands burst into blue flames--"brightest sparks. Ha. Hahaha."
Brawg's muscles tensed. Vesperr put a hand against his chest.
"That's not proof enough. For our Oxyrin can also do such petty parlour tricks."
"Very well," Oxyrin sighed, "I shall prove it. We shall have a wizard-off."
"Smart," said Vesperr. She let out a high pitched whistle, at which the other Oxyrin came bounding over to her.
"Oxyrin!" he sputtered as he arrived.
"Is that all he can say? How could you *possibly* believe he was me?"
"Good point," said Brawg. "His vocabulary is much larger."
"Oh. You made a joke. How very amusing."
"Okay," said Vesperr. "Round one of the wizard-off. *Shape-shifting.*"
"What? What a stupid round," complained Oxyrin, "for sniffing out a shape-shifter!" His face was red and a vein popped out of his forehead, pulsating like waves on the ocean. "Unbelievable idiocy. How you have possibly survived this long without me to guide you -- heaven only knows!"
"Oxyrin!" replied the other Oxyrin.
"Well, if you can't do it and he can..." said Brawg shrugging, "then I guess we know who the real wizard is."
"Oh... *pish!* Very well. And what must we change into, pray tell?"
"Something very small. To really challenge your morphitisation skills. A fly. Simple. First one to transform into a fly wins."
"Sala kazoo, Sala kazam!" shouted Oxyrin. There was a puff of smoke that left Vesperr and Brawg coughing. As it cleared, and only for the briefest moment, they saw a fly. Then, they saw a huge, pointed tongue. Finally, they saw an Oxyrin chewing on and then swallowing *something*.
"Oxyrin!" he shouted triumphantly, as Brawg and Vesperr collapsed into a fit of laughter.
"Oh Oxyrin," said Brawg, slapping him on the back "you really are too much."
"And," said Vesperr, "we wouldn't have it any other way!"
| "That was..." Brawg began, staggering over the bodies of the fallen goblins, his boots squelching in the treacle-like blood.
"Far too..." said Vesperr, returning her bow to her back, and beginning to pluck out arrows from the deceased enemies.
"Oxyrin!" finished Oxyrin, his pointed hat falling over his eyes once again. Dribble oozed down from his mouth and his pupils spun this way and that, as if two compasses confused by magnets.
Brawg and Vesperr looked at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing. Brawg brought a thunderous hand down on the wizard's back. "Don't ever change, Oxyrin!" he said.
"Oh, Oxyrin," grinned Vesperr, "you're the reason we do this, you know? For that smile on your face." She wiped away a the spittle from his lips, then shook her finger, sending the spit plopping onto the ground.
"Oxyrin!" Oxyrin repeated. A pointed tongue darted out of his mouth and latched onto a fly that was hovering over a brutalised body below.
"I'm going to pretend I didn't just see that," said Brawg with a wink. "Okay gang, I'd say we're all done here. I believe its time to go collect our reward."
"Not so fast, my friends," came a mysterious voice from behind them. Only, when they turned, there was *nothing* behind them.
Slowly, the blue-robed wizard hazed into existence. "It is I, the *real* Oxyrin! I have been trapped for the longest time, but I have finally outsmarted my captors and have returned to my friends. For no one is as clever as the Great Oxyrin!"
Brawg and Vesperr glanced at each other, then let out a joint gasp.
"Quite you might gasp," said Oxyrin, as he turned and pointed an accusing finger at the other blue wizard, who was now on all fours chasing after a spider. "For that fellow, has fooled you, my dear friends. But he is nothing more than an impostor! A Doppelganger! A fake, a fraud, and dare I say it, a phoney."
Brawg nudged Vesperr and they both gasped again.
"How.. erm, how can we believe you?" asked Vesperr, her top lip wet with nervous sweat. "How do we know he--"she pointed to the to the wizard, who was now chewing on something--"isn't the real Oxyrin. After all, he would have had to fool us both for two entire years."
Oxyrin rolled his eyes. "Hardly a challenging task. You two never were the"--his hands burst into blue flames--"brightest sparks. Ha. Hahaha."
Brawg's muscles tensed. Vesperr put a hand against his chest.
"That's not proof enough. For our Oxyrin can also do such petty parlour tricks."
"Very well," Oxyrin sighed, "I shall prove it. We shall have a wizard-off."
"Smart," said Vesperr. She let out a high pitched whistle, at which the other Oxyrin came bounding over to her.
"Oxyrin!" he sputtered as he arrived.
"Is that all he can say? How could you *possibly* believe he was me?"
"Good point," said Brawg. "His vocabulary is much larger."
"Oh. You made a joke. How very amusing."
"Okay," said Vesperr. "Round one of the wizard-off. *Shape-shifting.*"
"What? What a stupid round," complained Oxyrin, "for sniffing out a shape-shifter!" His face was red and a vein popped out of his forehead, pulsating like waves on the ocean. "Unbelievable idiocy. How you have possibly survived this long without me to guide you -- heaven only knows!"
"Oxyrin!" replied the other Oxyrin.
"Well, if you can't do it and he can..." said Brawg shrugging, "then I guess we know who the real wizard is."
"Oh... *pish!* Very well. And what must we change into, pray tell?"
"Something very small. To really challenge your morphitisation skills. A fly. Simple. First one to transform into a fly wins."
"Sala kazoo, Sala kazam!" shouted Oxyrin. There was a puff of smoke that left Vesperr and Brawg coughing. As it cleared, and only for the briefest moment, they saw a fly. Then, they saw a huge, pointed tongue. Finally, they saw an Oxyrin chewing on and then swallowing *something*.
"Oxyrin!" he shouted triumphantly, as Brawg and Vesperr collapsed into a fit of laughter.
"Oh Oxyrin," said Brawg, slapping him on the back "you really are too much."
"And," said Vesperr, "we wouldn't have it any other way!"
| |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | "A fine...mead?!" Rorik shouts over the din of the tavern. His companions smile and nod along with him as he sings some old barbarian tune.
Sings it wrong. They don't tell him that though.
Delia, the group's cleric leans over to their mage.
"Do you think he knows?"
Melvar just shakes his head and holds out a palm towards their massive friend. Friend as of lately, of course. Rorik was a massive pain for the group long before the shifter stole his face.
"He definitely doesn't but...I think I like him. Rorik was a bit of a jerk, always running off into the dungeons with that stupid battlecry. Remember when we went into the Crypt of Alohar, how many good people did he get killed?"
"Yeah...he's kinda cute now. Like a child or something."
They both watch Rorik move around the tavern with his mug and talk to other groups of adventurers. He's loud but not overbearing. He listens to the stories of others instead of telling his own. He drinks but not to excess. He is nothing like the barbarian they all had come to know and...
Melvar doesn't quite finish the thought.
"You know what Del, I like him. I know he's a shifter but look at everyone. We all know and he's trying so hard to be like Rorik but he just can't. I don't think there's a mean bone in that thing's body. You know that he hasn't made fun of my beard once, not in months."
She snorts. The young mage was trying so hard to grow it out and he'd been self-conscious about it for months.
A warrior passing by their table to his own party leans over and whispers it to the pair.
"You should keep him. He's an improvement."
"Friends!" Rorik shouts, sitting again at their table, "What fun! And we do this between every adventure? And people give us gold to go on those adventures? To spend here? Amazing!"
He is off again before they can even respond.
"Do you think The Dwarf knows?" Melvar watches Rorik join another random group of adventures and sing yet another song. Still wrong.
Delia shrugs.
"I don't know and I don't care. We're gonna keep him. He's like a dog or something. But useful."
Melvar strokes his "beard" for a moment.
"Alright, we'll keep him. But I swear if he ever makes fun of my beard-"
"What? You'll strangle him with one of your wisps? You should really shave, you're looking more like a magical hobo than a wizard. 'I cast: smell of unwashedness!'"
As she walks away laughing at her own joke Melvar narrows his eyes. He lifts his mug and mutters something into it before drinking.
"I'll replace you too if I have to..." | "That was..." Brawg began, staggering over the bodies of the fallen goblins, his boots squelching in the treacle-like blood.
"Far too..." said Vesperr, returning her bow to her back, and beginning to pluck out arrows from the deceased enemies.
"Oxyrin!" finished Oxyrin, his pointed hat falling over his eyes once again. Dribble oozed down from his mouth and his pupils spun this way and that, as if two compasses confused by magnets.
Brawg and Vesperr looked at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing. Brawg brought a thunderous hand down on the wizard's back. "Don't ever change, Oxyrin!" he said.
"Oh, Oxyrin," grinned Vesperr, "you're the reason we do this, you know? For that smile on your face." She wiped away a the spittle from his lips, then shook her finger, sending the spit plopping onto the ground.
"Oxyrin!" Oxyrin repeated. A pointed tongue darted out of his mouth and latched onto a fly that was hovering over a brutalised body below.
"I'm going to pretend I didn't just see that," said Brawg with a wink. "Okay gang, I'd say we're all done here. I believe its time to go collect our reward."
"Not so fast, my friends," came a mysterious voice from behind them. Only, when they turned, there was *nothing* behind them.
Slowly, the blue-robed wizard hazed into existence. "It is I, the *real* Oxyrin! I have been trapped for the longest time, but I have finally outsmarted my captors and have returned to my friends. For no one is as clever as the Great Oxyrin!"
Brawg and Vesperr glanced at each other, then let out a joint gasp.
"Quite you might gasp," said Oxyrin, as he turned and pointed an accusing finger at the other blue wizard, who was now on all fours chasing after a spider. "For that fellow, has fooled you, my dear friends. But he is nothing more than an impostor! A Doppelganger! A fake, a fraud, and dare I say it, a phoney."
Brawg nudged Vesperr and they both gasped again.
"How.. erm, how can we believe you?" asked Vesperr, her top lip wet with nervous sweat. "How do we know he--"she pointed to the to the wizard, who was now chewing on something--"isn't the real Oxyrin. After all, he would have had to fool us both for two entire years."
Oxyrin rolled his eyes. "Hardly a challenging task. You two never were the"--his hands burst into blue flames--"brightest sparks. Ha. Hahaha."
Brawg's muscles tensed. Vesperr put a hand against his chest.
"That's not proof enough. For our Oxyrin can also do such petty parlour tricks."
"Very well," Oxyrin sighed, "I shall prove it. We shall have a wizard-off."
"Smart," said Vesperr. She let out a high pitched whistle, at which the other Oxyrin came bounding over to her.
"Oxyrin!" he sputtered as he arrived.
"Is that all he can say? How could you *possibly* believe he was me?"
"Good point," said Brawg. "His vocabulary is much larger."
"Oh. You made a joke. How very amusing."
"Okay," said Vesperr. "Round one of the wizard-off. *Shape-shifting.*"
"What? What a stupid round," complained Oxyrin, "for sniffing out a shape-shifter!" His face was red and a vein popped out of his forehead, pulsating like waves on the ocean. "Unbelievable idiocy. How you have possibly survived this long without me to guide you -- heaven only knows!"
"Oxyrin!" replied the other Oxyrin.
"Well, if you can't do it and he can..." said Brawg shrugging, "then I guess we know who the real wizard is."
"Oh... *pish!* Very well. And what must we change into, pray tell?"
"Something very small. To really challenge your morphitisation skills. A fly. Simple. First one to transform into a fly wins."
"Sala kazoo, Sala kazam!" shouted Oxyrin. There was a puff of smoke that left Vesperr and Brawg coughing. As it cleared, and only for the briefest moment, they saw a fly. Then, they saw a huge, pointed tongue. Finally, they saw an Oxyrin chewing on and then swallowing *something*.
"Oxyrin!" he shouted triumphantly, as Brawg and Vesperr collapsed into a fit of laughter.
"Oh Oxyrin," said Brawg, slapping him on the back "you really are too much."
"And," said Vesperr, "we wouldn't have it any other way!"
| |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | "A fine...mead?!" Rorik shouts over the din of the tavern. His companions smile and nod along with him as he sings some old barbarian tune.
Sings it wrong. They don't tell him that though.
Delia, the group's cleric leans over to their mage.
"Do you think he knows?"
Melvar just shakes his head and holds out a palm towards their massive friend. Friend as of lately, of course. Rorik was a massive pain for the group long before the shifter stole his face.
"He definitely doesn't but...I think I like him. Rorik was a bit of a jerk, always running off into the dungeons with that stupid battlecry. Remember when we went into the Crypt of Alohar, how many good people did he get killed?"
"Yeah...he's kinda cute now. Like a child or something."
They both watch Rorik move around the tavern with his mug and talk to other groups of adventurers. He's loud but not overbearing. He listens to the stories of others instead of telling his own. He drinks but not to excess. He is nothing like the barbarian they all had come to know and...
Melvar doesn't quite finish the thought.
"You know what Del, I like him. I know he's a shifter but look at everyone. We all know and he's trying so hard to be like Rorik but he just can't. I don't think there's a mean bone in that thing's body. You know that he hasn't made fun of my beard once, not in months."
She snorts. The young mage was trying so hard to grow it out and he'd been self-conscious about it for months.
A warrior passing by their table to his own party leans over and whispers it to the pair.
"You should keep him. He's an improvement."
"Friends!" Rorik shouts, sitting again at their table, "What fun! And we do this between every adventure? And people give us gold to go on those adventures? To spend here? Amazing!"
He is off again before they can even respond.
"Do you think The Dwarf knows?" Melvar watches Rorik join another random group of adventures and sing yet another song. Still wrong.
Delia shrugs.
"I don't know and I don't care. We're gonna keep him. He's like a dog or something. But useful."
Melvar strokes his "beard" for a moment.
"Alright, we'll keep him. But I swear if he ever makes fun of my beard-"
"What? You'll strangle him with one of your wisps? You should really shave, you're looking more like a magical hobo than a wizard. 'I cast: smell of unwashedness!'"
As she walks away laughing at her own joke Melvar narrows his eyes. He lifts his mug and mutters something into it before drinking.
"I'll replace you too if I have to..." | "A fine...mead?!" Rorik shouts over the din of the tavern. His companions smile and nod along with him as he sings some old barbarian tune.
Sings it wrong. They don't tell him that though.
Delia, the group's cleric leans over to their mage.
"Do you think he knows?"
Melvar just shakes his head and holds out a palm towards their massive friend. Friend as of lately, of course. Rorik was a massive pain for the group long before the shifter stole his face.
"He definitely doesn't but...I think I like him. Rorik was a bit of a jerk, always running off into the dungeons with that stupid battlecry. Remember when we went into the Crypt of Alohar, how many good people did he get killed?"
"Yeah...he's kinda cute now. Like a child or something."
They both watch Rorik move around the tavern with his mug and talk to other groups of adventurers. He's loud but not overbearing. He listens to the stories of others instead of telling his own. He drinks but not to excess. He is nothing like the barbarian they all had come to know and...
Melvar doesn't quite finish the thought.
"You know what Del, I like him. I know he's a shifter but look at everyone. We all know and he's trying so hard to be like Rorik but he just can't. I don't think there's a mean bone in that thing's body. You know that he hasn't made fun of my beard once, not in months."
She snorts. The young mage was trying so hard to grow it out and he'd been self-conscious about it for months.
A warrior passing by their table to his own party leans over and whispers it to the pair.
"You should keep him. He's an improvement."
"Friends!" Rorik shouts, sitting again at their table, "What fun! And we do this between every adventure? And people give us gold to go on those adventures? To spend here? Amazing!"
He is off again before they can even respond.
"Do you think The Dwarf knows?" Melvar watches Rorik join another random group of adventures and sing yet another song. Still wrong.
Delia shrugs.
"I don't know and I don't care. We're gonna keep him. He's like a dog or something. But useful."
Melvar strokes his "beard" for a moment.
"Alright, we'll keep him. But I swear if he ever makes fun of my beard-"
"What? You'll strangle him with one of your wisps? You should really shave, you're looking more like a magical hobo than a wizard. 'I cast: smell of unwashedness!'"
As she walks away laughing at her own joke Melvar narrows his eyes. He lifts his mug and mutters something into it before drinking.
"I'll replace you too if I have to..." | |
[WP] As the Cassini probe begins it's final descent into Saturn's atmosphere, NASA receives an unexpected transmission from the space craft... | "On final approach"
The words none of us really wanted to hear. Each mission has to come to an end at some point. All the discoveries we made, the storms we saw raging on the planet, the 2 mile vertical rings that shot straight up... all coming to an end.
"T-Minus 30 seconds to break-up"
No, I thought, just a few more minutes.
*Beep de Beep beep beep de Beep beep*
"Sir, incoming signal from Cassini"
"And?"
"TOUCHDOWN?!"
"That's impossible"
We all stood in the control room, mouths open, trying to grasp what was just said.
"Close the door and turn off the cameras, NOW!"
In that instant, all of us panicked for a second before staring at our screen gathering data that was coming in. This can't be possible, it a probe, not a lander.
Unless some sick hacker is messing with us, or things are about to get really weird.
"How's this possible," asked the Commander.
"Uh, ummm, I'll get back to you, sir"
"Sir, we got incoming images"
"Well?"
"Little green man, sir"
"No time for jokes, Miller. What do you got?"
I spun my monitor around. It was truly a little green man holding a sign, in perfect English, it read: Cancel my HBO subscription.
| "YOU FOOLS! I, Acererak, Personification of Entropy, shall return!"
----------
"Couldn't we have chucked him into the sun? I mean, he's a skull, he's not that heavy."
"Still can't afford the delta-vee now, never mind in 1997. Besides, Saturn will last about as long as the Sun will. In a billion years someone else will sort something out." | |
[WP] As the Cassini probe begins it's final descent into Saturn's atmosphere, NASA receives an unexpected transmission from the space craft... | "On final approach"
The words none of us really wanted to hear. Each mission has to come to an end at some point. All the discoveries we made, the storms we saw raging on the planet, the 2 mile vertical rings that shot straight up... all coming to an end.
"T-Minus 30 seconds to break-up"
No, I thought, just a few more minutes.
*Beep de Beep beep beep de Beep beep*
"Sir, incoming signal from Cassini"
"And?"
"TOUCHDOWN?!"
"That's impossible"
We all stood in the control room, mouths open, trying to grasp what was just said.
"Close the door and turn off the cameras, NOW!"
In that instant, all of us panicked for a second before staring at our screen gathering data that was coming in. This can't be possible, it a probe, not a lander.
Unless some sick hacker is messing with us, or things are about to get really weird.
"How's this possible," asked the Commander.
"Uh, ummm, I'll get back to you, sir"
"Sir, we got incoming images"
"Well?"
"Little green man, sir"
"No time for jokes, Miller. What do you got?"
I spun my monitor around. It was truly a little green man holding a sign, in perfect English, it read: Cancel my HBO subscription.
| "YOU FOOLS! I, Acererak, Personification of Entropy, shall return!"
----------
"Couldn't we have chucked him into the sun? I mean, he's a skull, he's not that heavy."
"Still can't afford the delta-vee now, never mind in 1997. Besides, Saturn will last about as long as the Sun will. In a billion years someone else will sort something out." | |
[deleted] | [WP] You set up a camera to see if you sleepwalk after noticing items being moved. When you watch the tape, you wake up, get out of bed, stare at the camera, and snap your own neck. An identical copy of you then walks in, removes the body, slips into bed, and goes to sleep until you wake up. | We knew something happened each night. They told us as much when they inserted the chips.
Each night, non-vital memories made during the day would be reset. Each morning, we woke knowing only what we needed to know for the day and nothing more. No families - not for those it wasn't deemed essential for - No friends.
Just work.
But some chips go wrong. They're technology. All technology has it's flaws.
I remember the locations of trivial items in the quarters they assigned to me. The vase, with the big red flower, in front of the window. The ornamental plates lined up with the largest on the right. The pictures, of different sizes, going in age order.
These memories would be useless. But they were not removed during sleep hours. So I learnt, after three nights of this, that something was wrong.
Not just with the chip. With the security.
The plates suddenly had the largest in the middle. The flower was pink. The pictures were arranged randomly.
That wasn't right.
The technology from the Old Times still existed, of course; it was just hard to find. Harder to pay for. One camera cost near an arm and a leg, and the only way to sneak it through their memory wipe was to haggle with a half-awake server.
It was easy enough to set up, pointing at the corner of the room I moved the vase and plates into. The pictures hung on the wall behind them.
Nothing else had changed, so these were my points of focus.
It covered the top of my bed, too, where my head fell each night. Not ideal but I had little choice if I wanted to work out what - or who - was changing things.
Then again, if it was me sleep walking, maybe having me included would be useful.
Satisfied, I slept.
When light came and the alarms sounded for wakeup, I didn't even hesitate. The camera was in my hands and the footage playing at five times the speed.
There was no sound. This block got eerily quiet at nights. So I was just staring at the items and myself, all still, not even a whisper of air making anything stir.
Nothing.
The footage was empty and the items were the same.
I would not give up.
I set the experiment to repeat the following night. Went to sleep.
Morning always starts with alarms. Loud and blaring and irritating, waking us up.
There was a camera in the room. One that shouldn't be there - or had they resorted to watching us while we slept to ensure memories were changed?
Curiosity was always my curse. I slipped out of the bed and padded over, turning the screen around to face me. Footage of the room flashed on screen, begging me to hit play.
I did.
For three hours of Footage, nothing happens. The camera was just pointed at a corner of items. Why would they not even aim it at me? Surely that was the point?
But - wait. I was there, on screen. Standing in front of the items. Doing nothing but staring down the sense of the camera.
It lasts for another hour. Then, slowly, oh so slowly, hands rise on screen. Clutch at the sides of the head. The lips split into a grin.
Even with the muted audio of the camera, the crack was unmistakable.
The body - *my* body - slumps to the floor. Eyes glassy. Distant.
Dead.
But not dead. Another me walks into frame, trailed by two of the masters. They have never once spoken, their conversations through expressions.
These have fury and pity.
And as they drag the body away, the other me slides into bed on screen.
They don't reset our non-vital memories when things go wrong.
They reset *us*. | I woke up to the faint sound of my alarm. Strange, since I keep it under my pillow. Yeah, yeah, you can go on about the hazards of cell phone radiation, but it has not yet proved to actually cause any serious disorders. I guess.
Any ways, this wasn't the first time something of mine was misplaced during my sleep - once i found my pillow inside my fridge(!) my slippers inside the fish tank (?) and many random things, like keeping the milk carton on the stove instead of inside the refrigerator. I lived alone, and after my fishy died, my house started feeling more and more lonely. That made this occurrences all the more creepy.
On my friends recommendation, I bought a webcam and rigged it with my phone to record me at night. The camera was decent, and the range was well enough to cover my bed and the entrance to my bathroom.
I log into my computer and watch the video.
Well guess what I saw.
You know what I saw, you can read it above, you idiot.
What the fuck is this supposed to mean?! I don't remember buying clones of myself and stashing them in my bathroom and replacing myself everyday. I go to the bathroom cautiously, despite having already visited it to brush my teeth and take a dump.
The bathroom looked normal, like they were supposed to. I checked around for any deformities in the wall or something. Wait, I think I saw... damn, there's a hollow spot here! What in the fuck's name!? How is this thing even here? My walls aren't thick enough to hold a secret compartment. I wonder if I can...
_You can see yourself in the webcam which you had set up. You pull down the dry wall and your body falls out of the body. Suddenly you look hypnotized. You out the body back into it's place, look into the camera, and snap your head. The shower curtain opens and you walk out from it, stuffing your other dead body into the same crack. You come and stare at the camera, and go to sleep._
You look at the time.
It's almost bed-time.
Good night. |
[deleted] | [WP] You set up a camera to see if you sleepwalk after noticing items being moved. When you watch the tape, you wake up, get out of bed, stare at the camera, and snap your own neck. An identical copy of you then walks in, removes the body, slips into bed, and goes to sleep until you wake up. | We knew something happened each night. They told us as much when they inserted the chips.
Each night, non-vital memories made during the day would be reset. Each morning, we woke knowing only what we needed to know for the day and nothing more. No families - not for those it wasn't deemed essential for - No friends.
Just work.
But some chips go wrong. They're technology. All technology has it's flaws.
I remember the locations of trivial items in the quarters they assigned to me. The vase, with the big red flower, in front of the window. The ornamental plates lined up with the largest on the right. The pictures, of different sizes, going in age order.
These memories would be useless. But they were not removed during sleep hours. So I learnt, after three nights of this, that something was wrong.
Not just with the chip. With the security.
The plates suddenly had the largest in the middle. The flower was pink. The pictures were arranged randomly.
That wasn't right.
The technology from the Old Times still existed, of course; it was just hard to find. Harder to pay for. One camera cost near an arm and a leg, and the only way to sneak it through their memory wipe was to haggle with a half-awake server.
It was easy enough to set up, pointing at the corner of the room I moved the vase and plates into. The pictures hung on the wall behind them.
Nothing else had changed, so these were my points of focus.
It covered the top of my bed, too, where my head fell each night. Not ideal but I had little choice if I wanted to work out what - or who - was changing things.
Then again, if it was me sleep walking, maybe having me included would be useful.
Satisfied, I slept.
When light came and the alarms sounded for wakeup, I didn't even hesitate. The camera was in my hands and the footage playing at five times the speed.
There was no sound. This block got eerily quiet at nights. So I was just staring at the items and myself, all still, not even a whisper of air making anything stir.
Nothing.
The footage was empty and the items were the same.
I would not give up.
I set the experiment to repeat the following night. Went to sleep.
Morning always starts with alarms. Loud and blaring and irritating, waking us up.
There was a camera in the room. One that shouldn't be there - or had they resorted to watching us while we slept to ensure memories were changed?
Curiosity was always my curse. I slipped out of the bed and padded over, turning the screen around to face me. Footage of the room flashed on screen, begging me to hit play.
I did.
For three hours of Footage, nothing happens. The camera was just pointed at a corner of items. Why would they not even aim it at me? Surely that was the point?
But - wait. I was there, on screen. Standing in front of the items. Doing nothing but staring down the sense of the camera.
It lasts for another hour. Then, slowly, oh so slowly, hands rise on screen. Clutch at the sides of the head. The lips split into a grin.
Even with the muted audio of the camera, the crack was unmistakable.
The body - *my* body - slumps to the floor. Eyes glassy. Distant.
Dead.
But not dead. Another me walks into frame, trailed by two of the masters. They have never once spoken, their conversations through expressions.
These have fury and pity.
And as they drag the body away, the other me slides into bed on screen.
They don't reset our non-vital memories when things go wrong.
They reset *us*. | We stood up and went to the bathroom. Looking at our reflection in the mirror we couldn't help but laugh. One of us brought a finger to our lips. Shhh. |
[deleted] | [WP] You set up a camera to see if you sleepwalk after noticing items being moved. When you watch the tape, you wake up, get out of bed, stare at the camera, and snap your own neck. An identical copy of you then walks in, removes the body, slips into bed, and goes to sleep until you wake up. | **Sunday, 8th of November, 2591**
"*What?*" I said, in a low voice of a terrified person.
What the hell was that?
I rewinded the tape, to my disbelief, It was the same thing.
It actually happened. A random clone of me just walked in, and replaced my body.
I don't remember any of that. I don't remember me snapping my neck, with my eyes wide open. Why did I even do that? Is it just a random thing to do, or was that part of the move that replaced my body.
And if I am the clone that just walked in, why do I have no memory of doing that?
I kept thinking about memories, when I notice a few things.
Me, as a 14 year old boy, haven't changed a bit since I was 12. I don't look any different, I am not any taller, and my personality hasn't changed one bit.
I have no memories before 12. All I remember is waking up at home, and no one else, or nothing else, with a few fragments of memories that barely resemble anyone I know.
I asked my parents before, but they said I was just in a car accident, and I forgot most of my memories because of that, so I just dismissed it.
But this is too much. Am I not even human?
Was I never born?
I've never had any memories, have I?
I cried for a while. I knew showing this to my parents wouldn't really have any effect.
I assumed they knew something about what was going on.
I went to them, and mustered up the courage to tell them to explain what this is all about.
"*Oh yes, this is not the first time you've figured it out*" Said my dad.
I was surprised, what does he mean? I've only lived for about 2 years, and never figured out anything before..
"*317 years, and the 178 times you've told me, your previous dad, or your other previous, this same conversation*"
"*It doesn't matter, your memories are going to be erased in the end, no matter what you do*".
I screamed. I asked him to explain but he wouldn't respond.
I had to escape. I had to think of something..
I thought about the railway. I could go there, then take a train to anywhere away from the country.
I've forgotten a lot of things. But I wasn't going to forget anymore. I am going to live a normal life.
-----THE END-----
I know that this passage is lacking in a lot of things. The WP is very interesting but is awfully specific, making it hard to really branch out, not to mention the extreme difficulty of writing a sci-fi story since I don't like sci-fi stories myself. I just wrote this since no one else decided to write anything. I am also not really good with language, so writing something like this was extremly difficult. | We stood up and went to the bathroom. Looking at our reflection in the mirror we couldn't help but laugh. One of us brought a finger to our lips. Shhh. |
[deleted] | [WP] You set up a camera to see if you sleepwalk after noticing items being moved. When you watch the tape, you wake up, get out of bed, stare at the camera, and snap your own neck. An identical copy of you then walks in, removes the body, slips into bed, and goes to sleep until you wake up. | At the bottom of the grainy footage, the timestamp reads: 1:23am. There's no expression on his--*my*--face, as he places his hands either side of his head. He pauses, and looks at the ceiling, staring at *me*. At the camera.
Then, he twists his neck; it cracks like a broken twig and he crumples onto the carpet.
Next, the sound of the front door creaking; the grinning doppelganger hovering over my body with a swell in his ragged looking jeans; it struggling to pick up the body, but eventually hoisting it over its shoulders; finally, the imposter coming back into my room and getting into my bed. Only, now it's dressed differently than before. No jeans, just boxers. Even its hair seems different.
I've watched it a dozen times already. I even showed it to a friend, but he only laughed and asked me how I did it. *What software did you use*?
It's already 1.03am. What if it happens every night? How can I ever sleep again?
I start the footage over. This time as I'm watching it, something new bothers me, but I'm not certain what. I turn the volume to max and start it again.
I hear the snap of the neck and, as always, I wince. I hear the creak of the front door. I hear it shut as the imposter enters. But... I don't hear it creak or close again.
My arms begin trembling as I realise why. The body -- it's in the house still. *It has to be.*
I grab a kitchen knife and creep toward the cellar door. Why haven't I had the desire to go down here recently? It's like... I forgot it existed. With a deep breath, I twist the handle and pull it open.
It's dark. As black as a crow. Too dark to make out the stairwell, so I get out my phone and flick on the flash light. With a dull yellow light guiding me, I make my way down the twisting, brick steps.
There are four of them. They are sitting up, leaning against the wall, their bodies facing me, their heads not. I struggle to breathe. I think of turning. Of fleeing.
But I can't.
As I creep toward the nearest me, a black rat scutters across my foot. I jump, my heart beating hard against my ribs.
I run my hand down the cold, naked body. He looks almost alive.
An urge--a compulsion--to see its dead face comes over me. A need to see my own mortality, perhaps. I place my hands either side of its head and twist it 180 degrees.
It clicks.
I can barely breathe when I see the thing in its mouth. A thick wire running down from it and into the wall behind.
The dead eyes open. It stares at me. They are open so wide. Urgent.
"What are you?" I whisper.
"He is me. As are you," says a voice from behind. I turn, shivering, to see another me standing at the bottom of the stairwell.
"Well, a bad cover version of me," it says, grinning. Its wearing an old pair of jeans and a holding a shotgun in its hands. It looks older than me. Its hair is flecked with grey. Its eyes baggy and black.
"Who--who are you?"
"I'm the weekend me. The original me. The only me."
"And... then... what am I?"
"Nothing important. Just a *thing* that needs resetting."
The shotgun clicks and he pulls the trigger.
---
Awesome creepy recording of it by /u/iwantlegames: - https://youtu.be/0SNtY3nzcdA
| We stood up and went to the bathroom. Looking at our reflection in the mirror we couldn't help but laugh. One of us brought a finger to our lips. Shhh. |
[deleted] | [WP] You set up a camera to see if you sleepwalk after noticing items being moved. When you watch the tape, you wake up, get out of bed, stare at the camera, and snap your own neck. An identical copy of you then walks in, removes the body, slips into bed, and goes to sleep until you wake up. | At the bottom of the grainy footage, the timestamp reads: 1:23am. There's no expression on his--*my*--face, as he places his hands either side of his head. He pauses, and looks at the ceiling, staring at *me*. At the camera.
Then, he twists his neck; it cracks like a broken twig and he crumples onto the carpet.
Next, the sound of the front door creaking; the grinning doppelganger hovering over my body with a swell in his ragged looking jeans; it struggling to pick up the body, but eventually hoisting it over its shoulders; finally, the imposter coming back into my room and getting into my bed. Only, now it's dressed differently than before. No jeans, just boxers. Even its hair seems different.
I've watched it a dozen times already. I even showed it to a friend, but he only laughed and asked me how I did it. *What software did you use*?
It's already 1.03am. What if it happens every night? How can I ever sleep again?
I start the footage over. This time as I'm watching it, something new bothers me, but I'm not certain what. I turn the volume to max and start it again.
I hear the snap of the neck and, as always, I wince. I hear the creak of the front door. I hear it shut as the imposter enters. But... I don't hear it creak or close again.
My arms begin trembling as I realise why. The body -- it's in the house still. *It has to be.*
I grab a kitchen knife and creep toward the cellar door. Why haven't I had the desire to go down here recently? It's like... I forgot it existed. With a deep breath, I twist the handle and pull it open.
It's dark. As black as a crow. Too dark to make out the stairwell, so I get out my phone and flick on the flash light. With a dull yellow light guiding me, I make my way down the twisting, brick steps.
There are four of them. They are sitting up, leaning against the wall, their bodies facing me, their heads not. I struggle to breathe. I think of turning. Of fleeing.
But I can't.
As I creep toward the nearest me, a black rat scutters across my foot. I jump, my heart beating hard against my ribs.
I run my hand down the cold, naked body. He looks almost alive.
An urge--a compulsion--to see its dead face comes over me. A need to see my own mortality, perhaps. I place my hands either side of its head and twist it 180 degrees.
It clicks.
I can barely breathe when I see the thing in its mouth. A thick wire running down from it and into the wall behind.
The dead eyes open. It stares at me. They are open so wide. Urgent.
"What are you?" I whisper.
"He is me. As are you," says a voice from behind. I turn, shivering, to see another me standing at the bottom of the stairwell.
"Well, a bad cover version of me," it says, grinning. Its wearing an old pair of jeans and a holding a shotgun in its hands. It looks older than me. Its hair is flecked with grey. Its eyes baggy and black.
"Who--who are you?"
"I'm the weekend me. The original me. The only me."
"And... then... what am I?"
"Nothing important. Just a *thing* that needs resetting."
The shotgun clicks and he pulls the trigger.
---
Awesome creepy recording of it by /u/iwantlegames: - https://youtu.be/0SNtY3nzcdA
| **Sunday, 8th of November, 2591**
"*What?*" I said, in a low voice of a terrified person.
What the hell was that?
I rewinded the tape, to my disbelief, It was the same thing.
It actually happened. A random clone of me just walked in, and replaced my body.
I don't remember any of that. I don't remember me snapping my neck, with my eyes wide open. Why did I even do that? Is it just a random thing to do, or was that part of the move that replaced my body.
And if I am the clone that just walked in, why do I have no memory of doing that?
I kept thinking about memories, when I notice a few things.
Me, as a 14 year old boy, haven't changed a bit since I was 12. I don't look any different, I am not any taller, and my personality hasn't changed one bit.
I have no memories before 12. All I remember is waking up at home, and no one else, or nothing else, with a few fragments of memories that barely resemble anyone I know.
I asked my parents before, but they said I was just in a car accident, and I forgot most of my memories because of that, so I just dismissed it.
But this is too much. Am I not even human?
Was I never born?
I've never had any memories, have I?
I cried for a while. I knew showing this to my parents wouldn't really have any effect.
I assumed they knew something about what was going on.
I went to them, and mustered up the courage to tell them to explain what this is all about.
"*Oh yes, this is not the first time you've figured it out*" Said my dad.
I was surprised, what does he mean? I've only lived for about 2 years, and never figured out anything before..
"*317 years, and the 178 times you've told me, your previous dad, or your other previous, this same conversation*"
"*It doesn't matter, your memories are going to be erased in the end, no matter what you do*".
I screamed. I asked him to explain but he wouldn't respond.
I had to escape. I had to think of something..
I thought about the railway. I could go there, then take a train to anywhere away from the country.
I've forgotten a lot of things. But I wasn't going to forget anymore. I am going to live a normal life.
-----THE END-----
I know that this passage is lacking in a lot of things. The WP is very interesting but is awfully specific, making it hard to really branch out, not to mention the extreme difficulty of writing a sci-fi story since I don't like sci-fi stories myself. I just wrote this since no one else decided to write anything. I am also not really good with language, so writing something like this was extremly difficult. |
[WP] You're a special genie. You allow whoever finds you to re-experience three events that happened in their life for the first time again. Some people choose to re-experience a great movie as if watching it for the first time, some re-live their first kiss. Your latest request sounds quite odd. | I emerge from my golden lamp and saw an old man with a walking cane supporting himself. His blue eyes filled with curiosity as he gazed at me from my bottom to top.
"I a--" I said but he cut me off immediately.
"You're a leprechaun!" Exclaimed the old man.
"No, I ain't" I replied, "I'm a genie tha--"
"I wish for a healthier body!" The old man shouted.
"Eh, I'm not that kind of genie bu--"
"Then what's your purpose?"
"WOULD YOU JUST LET ME SPEAK?!" I screamed with a tone I never knew I had. He looked scared and saddened by what I said and I regretted it immediately. He replied no more.
"Look, I'm sorry." I said.
"It's okay. I know no one loves me." He replied and looked down. For a split second, I saw something sparkle in his eyes. Tears.
"No, that's not true." I went near him and patted his back. I then noticed that he is alone in a large living room filled with antique furnishings. "Are you alone?"
His tears were gone and looked at me with, yet again, curiosity. "You're a leprechaun!" He exclaimed.
"No!" I said as I went away from him and near my lamp. I then noticed that he has short-term memory loss. "Look, I'm a genie that can make you re-experience three events in your lifetime."
"Oh!" He said happily with a smile on his then shifted to a frown. "I don't remember anything."
I looked around the living room and saw pictures of people. "How about you look at those pictures, maybe you can remember some."
He smiled at me and went near a picture placed on top of an end table. It was a picture of his younger self with a woman, which I assume is his wife. "This!"
I snapped my fingers and the world shifted to a bar which looked like from the 40s. I saw him, same with the picture, with a woman. He was wearing somewhat like a uniform in the navy with a nameplate "Jon Smith" and the woman wore a black dress. They were taking a picture, with the same pose as in the photo. They then danced along with other people in the bar. He looked so genuinely happy then they kissed. The world then shifted back to the present.
"What happe--!" He shouted.
"My power is dependent on your desire. It seems that what you desired the most was the kiss," I replied.
He did not talk. Still looking at the picture.
"Let's proceed to the second experience then." I said.
He looked around his living room and saw the same picture. "I want this!"
"Bu--" I trailed off. "Okay then."
Same scenario. They took a picture then danced and kissed. Back to the present again.
"What happened?" He said.
"I told you, my power is dependent on what you desire most. In this case, the kiss," I replied. "What's the third then?"
He looked at his living room. He took the same picture but it fell, breaking the frame. He picked it up but saw another picture behind it. A photo of him with a casket. "This."
"Okay." I snapped my fingers and the world shifted to his younger self. He wore a uniform with the same nameplate. He was sitting on a chair and went near the casket. It was the girl from the bar. She looked the same so this means that this happened near the events of the bar.
Jon was sobbing at the casket. I have always seen people at their worst but this takes the bait. I saw his face turn podgy and his eyes were like a faucet.
Hours went by and we haven't returned to the present. This is bad, I thought. The people in the place were packing up but Jon was still near the casket, not crying anymore. I never forced an situation to end without the desired experience of the wisher, except this time.
We returned to the present. Jon, now an old man, wasn't crying but is reading a note behind the first picture.
"I love you and I will wait for you." He uttered the last sentence in the note. He looked up. I expected him to look sad but he was smiling.
I was supposed to go back to my lamp but I was curious at the situation. "You're happy?" I asked.
He nodded.
"At least I know someone loved me." He replied.
His eyes were then filled with curiosity. "You're a leprechaun!" He exclaimed as he pointed his finger at me.
I smiled at him and pointed the note on the picture. He read it and smiled. I then returned to my lamp. Satisfied that I helped him stop thinking that no one ever loved him because someone did.
Note: this is my first time so please, critique this without getting too offensive 😂😂 | I'm 1 of the 24 magical genies that each have been placed in well thought out areas that the humans decided is best. I've been relocated many times from schools' counsellor's office, to psychiatrists' offices, but the one I'm currently at amused me the most.
I've been placed at the execution chamber of Forte Prison, the world's most well known prison, not only for the fact that most who went in, came out a different person whom is not only stronger as a person, and one whom is capable of doing the right thing, but also because it was well known for the highest execution rates. The latter fact would send shivers down anyone's spine, through my handler, he told me that there were cases of those sentenced to Forte try to escape within a fraction of a second that the word leaves the judge's mouth.
"How curious are you to find out what 3 events someone to be executed would want to see?"
'Not very, most would want to see their families and friends, no?'
"True.. Well, lets have you grant your 3 experiences to those on the execution list for a week or so."
What I guessed was relatively accurate, in the first 3 days, executions happened about twice a day, all of them wanted to see the best times with their families, their first fishing trips, their first love... Genies aren't really supposed to feel emotions, but I couldn't help but feel really bored, and wished at least one of them would give me something entertaining to show them.
Thinking back, I don't know if i should've wished that, what the man asked for on the last day, was what kept me within the lamp for the next 3 weeks not willing to come out.
"Number 134014, please enter the genie room"
"..."
'...So i guess you know the drill from the officers, I'm Chris, 1 of the 24 magical genies, and what will your 3 experiences that you'd like to relive today?'
"I don't have anything I'd want to relive."
'You sure?'
"Yes"
'...'
"..."
'Well thats a first, how about we have a talk then, before you're sent to the next room (The execution chamber)."
"Sure, you pick a topic?"
'Hm, I'm curious, what did you do to end up in this room?'
"I attacked some people."
'But resulting in a death sentence?'
"Heck, why not you let me relive what i did to those families, you're able to see it as well right?"
The room faded into darkness, my eyes closed and when it reopened, I was in a room, at least 20 people were crouched in a corner clearly in fear and number 134014 was at the door with a P90 sub-machine gun in one hand, and a metal pipe in the other.
Two men from that crowd charged at him with fists, he fired two shots into their legs, grabbed their hands, and broke their elbows and knees. The screams of the men before they collapsed only made the rest of that crowd consisting of women and children to cry in fear even more.
He walked towards them with a smile on his face (if i had to do a comparison, take a banana and put it at your mouth, the grin was literally from ear to ear). He grabbed a young boy and snapped his legs like a twig, I closed my eyes and covered my ears, not willing to continue watching. One of the downsides of showing people experiences, was that I couldn't end them until the person decides that he wants it to end. My hands couldn't drown out the sounds.
I opened my eyes, to see him smiling, while sitting in the chair.
"Happy?"
'No.'
"They're still alive if it helps"
'I don't know if being alive but disabled was doing them a favour'
"Hah, i wasn't doing them a favour, death's too easy for those scum"
His footsteps leaving the room were the loudest damn thing i've ever heard. | |
[WP] You're a special genie. You allow whoever finds you to re-experience three events that happened in their life for the first time again. Some people choose to re-experience a great movie as if watching it for the first time, some re-live their first kiss. Your latest request sounds quite odd. | I emerge from my golden lamp and saw an old man with a walking cane supporting himself. His blue eyes filled with curiosity as he gazed at me from my bottom to top.
"I a--" I said but he cut me off immediately.
"You're a leprechaun!" Exclaimed the old man.
"No, I ain't" I replied, "I'm a genie tha--"
"I wish for a healthier body!" The old man shouted.
"Eh, I'm not that kind of genie bu--"
"Then what's your purpose?"
"WOULD YOU JUST LET ME SPEAK?!" I screamed with a tone I never knew I had. He looked scared and saddened by what I said and I regretted it immediately. He replied no more.
"Look, I'm sorry." I said.
"It's okay. I know no one loves me." He replied and looked down. For a split second, I saw something sparkle in his eyes. Tears.
"No, that's not true." I went near him and patted his back. I then noticed that he is alone in a large living room filled with antique furnishings. "Are you alone?"
His tears were gone and looked at me with, yet again, curiosity. "You're a leprechaun!" He exclaimed.
"No!" I said as I went away from him and near my lamp. I then noticed that he has short-term memory loss. "Look, I'm a genie that can make you re-experience three events in your lifetime."
"Oh!" He said happily with a smile on his then shifted to a frown. "I don't remember anything."
I looked around the living room and saw pictures of people. "How about you look at those pictures, maybe you can remember some."
He smiled at me and went near a picture placed on top of an end table. It was a picture of his younger self with a woman, which I assume is his wife. "This!"
I snapped my fingers and the world shifted to a bar which looked like from the 40s. I saw him, same with the picture, with a woman. He was wearing somewhat like a uniform in the navy with a nameplate "Jon Smith" and the woman wore a black dress. They were taking a picture, with the same pose as in the photo. They then danced along with other people in the bar. He looked so genuinely happy then they kissed. The world then shifted back to the present.
"What happe--!" He shouted.
"My power is dependent on your desire. It seems that what you desired the most was the kiss," I replied.
He did not talk. Still looking at the picture.
"Let's proceed to the second experience then." I said.
He looked around his living room and saw the same picture. "I want this!"
"Bu--" I trailed off. "Okay then."
Same scenario. They took a picture then danced and kissed. Back to the present again.
"What happened?" He said.
"I told you, my power is dependent on what you desire most. In this case, the kiss," I replied. "What's the third then?"
He looked at his living room. He took the same picture but it fell, breaking the frame. He picked it up but saw another picture behind it. A photo of him with a casket. "This."
"Okay." I snapped my fingers and the world shifted to his younger self. He wore a uniform with the same nameplate. He was sitting on a chair and went near the casket. It was the girl from the bar. She looked the same so this means that this happened near the events of the bar.
Jon was sobbing at the casket. I have always seen people at their worst but this takes the bait. I saw his face turn podgy and his eyes were like a faucet.
Hours went by and we haven't returned to the present. This is bad, I thought. The people in the place were packing up but Jon was still near the casket, not crying anymore. I never forced an situation to end without the desired experience of the wisher, except this time.
We returned to the present. Jon, now an old man, wasn't crying but is reading a note behind the first picture.
"I love you and I will wait for you." He uttered the last sentence in the note. He looked up. I expected him to look sad but he was smiling.
I was supposed to go back to my lamp but I was curious at the situation. "You're happy?" I asked.
He nodded.
"At least I know someone loved me." He replied.
His eyes were then filled with curiosity. "You're a leprechaun!" He exclaimed as he pointed his finger at me.
I smiled at him and pointed the note on the picture. He read it and smiled. I then returned to my lamp. Satisfied that I helped him stop thinking that no one ever loved him because someone did.
Note: this is my first time so please, critique this without getting too offensive 😂😂 | Taking a shit? Asked the genie. A bit confused.
The young man replied in a very serious tone. "Yes."
Are you sure? Your first kiss? Having sex for the first time? The last time your parents hugged you?
"No. I want to take that shit again."
Are you sure? The possibilities may be finite. But, Still! Out of all the things you've experienced YOU CHOOSE TO TAKE A SHIT?
Why what in the world could be so fantastic about shitting?
The young mans head bowed. The booming voice of the genie still echoing off of the walls of the cramped room.
"It was the last time life made sense." Responded the boy.
Fine. The genie said. I've granted stranger.
Instantly he was transported back to the fateful day of the most peaceful shit he'd ever take.
He'd stepped away from the twilight zone marathon to relieve himself.
Once he'd come out everything had changed. For some reason his parents had decided this was the opportune time to announce their divorce.
His sister had responded in a less than optimal way.
She'd killed herself the following week and he was doomed to go through life without anyone truly understanding him.
The death of the one closest to him. If he could just avoid it for a little while longer.
He may not find peace but he could at least avoid the inevitable.
Please feel free to edit or just tell me what I did wrong.
| |
[WP] You're a special genie. You allow whoever finds you to re-experience three events that happened in their life for the first time again. Some people choose to re-experience a great movie as if watching it for the first time, some re-live their first kiss. Your latest request sounds quite odd. | "I don't need three. One is enough." I said.
"Are you sure? People usually long for more. So many experiences to re-live, and you only want one?" The genie asked, eyebrows raised.
"I only want to know what happened to my best friend, Jen, who died 4 years ago." My voice had become hoarse. "The police said it was suicide, but... I never believed it. Not for a moment since her death. There wasn't a reason for her to do it. Not when we were happily living our lives."
"She seemed like a nice girl." The genie murmured.
I smiled sadly. "She was. I was supposed to meet her here, in the hideout we usually met at. But I was too late. I was only in time to see her breathing her last, hanging from that noose. And I would never rest in peace, not knowing what truly happened that day. "
The genie's lips curled upward. "I understand. As promised then, I shall reveal it to you... Everything."
My eyesight dimmed for a few seconds, and when my vision returned, the genie had vanished. However, the room I was in had not changed, save for the wooden floor which had not rotted away as much. Oddly enough, the lamp that was in the present had also come back to the past, although I could not have possibly took particular note of that fact.
The girl I've yearned to see for years was standing still in the center of the dingy room, facing the grimy window. I could not believe it.
"J-Jen?"
She made no reply. Hesitantly, I edged forward and tapped her on the shoulder.
No response.
Panicking, I whipped around such that I was facing her, and could only gasp.
Her pupils had rolled back in her head, and she was weakly fighting for air. There was nothing that I could see that was strangling her, but there were huge claw-like impressions on her neck. I was too shocked to move, and could only watch as the life drained out of her. She shuddered for a final time, and her body went limp. My body was frozen, and my mind was whirling as my surroundings went pitch black once again.
I could not breathe. Maybe it was because my premonitions had been true from the start. It was murder. But who could it have been? She had clearly been asphyxiated by those claw-like hands, but who did they belong to? And why were they invisible?
As I opened my eyes, those hands closed around my neck like a vice, choking me, suffocating me. The genie's face was so close to mine, blocking my vision of anything else. It was still smiling.
"Now that you have your answer, you too, can rest in peace." | First time ever participating, gonna keep it short as I'm on mobile.
"I want all of it." The young man proclaims, excited and energetic.
"Every second of it. Theres not a single moment I don't miss. I remember my grade school friends, my first kiss. I want to eat dinner with my mom again. I want to dance with my ex-wife. I even want to spend those months in the hospital, every excruciating moment. There's not a single second I didn't treasure, with all those who loved me and I loved back, I only wish to experience it all once more!" He emphatically shouted.
With a single raised eyebrow I ask "Again?" | |
[WP] You're a special genie. You allow whoever finds you to re-experience three events that happened in their life for the first time again. Some people choose to re-experience a great movie as if watching it for the first time, some re-live their first kiss. Your latest request sounds quite odd. | "I don't need three. One is enough." I said.
"Are you sure? People usually long for more. So many experiences to re-live, and you only want one?" The genie asked, eyebrows raised.
"I only want to know what happened to my best friend, Jen, who died 4 years ago." My voice had become hoarse. "The police said it was suicide, but... I never believed it. Not for a moment since her death. There wasn't a reason for her to do it. Not when we were happily living our lives."
"She seemed like a nice girl." The genie murmured.
I smiled sadly. "She was. I was supposed to meet her here, in the hideout we usually met at. But I was too late. I was only in time to see her breathing her last, hanging from that noose. And I would never rest in peace, not knowing what truly happened that day. "
The genie's lips curled upward. "I understand. As promised then, I shall reveal it to you... Everything."
My eyesight dimmed for a few seconds, and when my vision returned, the genie had vanished. However, the room I was in had not changed, save for the wooden floor which had not rotted away as much. Oddly enough, the lamp that was in the present had also come back to the past, although I could not have possibly took particular note of that fact.
The girl I've yearned to see for years was standing still in the center of the dingy room, facing the grimy window. I could not believe it.
"J-Jen?"
She made no reply. Hesitantly, I edged forward and tapped her on the shoulder.
No response.
Panicking, I whipped around such that I was facing her, and could only gasp.
Her pupils had rolled back in her head, and she was weakly fighting for air. There was nothing that I could see that was strangling her, but there were huge claw-like impressions on her neck. I was too shocked to move, and could only watch as the life drained out of her. She shuddered for a final time, and her body went limp. My body was frozen, and my mind was whirling as my surroundings went pitch black once again.
I could not breathe. Maybe it was because my premonitions had been true from the start. It was murder. But who could it have been? She had clearly been asphyxiated by those claw-like hands, but who did they belong to? And why were they invisible?
As I opened my eyes, those hands closed around my neck like a vice, choking me, suffocating me. The genie's face was so close to mine, blocking my vision of anything else. It was still smiling.
"Now that you have your answer, you too, can rest in peace." | INT. A lamp with Arab setting - NIGHT
A group of genies are having a drink and one, JAVERT, starts telling a story while the others listen.
JAVERT
So I say: you can have any three memories you want back. Anything, I said
Everyone stares at him, no one makes a noise as the story moves forward. "
JAVERT (CONT'D)
And this guy comes to me and says he wants to go back to his birth. Just as his momma pulls him out.
Everyone laughs.
JAMAL (genie 1)
Crazy ass motherfucker
The other genies nod in approval of the reaction.
JAVERT
Crazy ass motherfucker, indeed. I say to him, 'listen, you're really sure about that?' There gon' be lots of blood'. I'm almost laughing at the request. Like, this boy serious? But he was dead set. You should've seen his face. He looked at me like I was some sort of idiot who couldn't listen
MARISA looks at him. She chuckles. Puts down her beer and asks:
MARISA
And what did you do?
JAVERT
I am a genie, am I not? A man's gotta do and all that. I granted his request, of course.
Everyone laughs
MARISA
And why did he want that, for fuck's sake.
Javert frowns. Puts down his beer. Then sighs.
JAVERT
He never knew his mom. She died having him... He... he... wanted to tell her he was sorry.
END | |
[WP] You're a special genie. You allow whoever finds you to re-experience three events that happened in their life for the first time again. Some people choose to re-experience a great movie as if watching it for the first time, some re-live their first kiss. Your latest request sounds quite odd. | "I don't need three. One is enough." I said.
"Are you sure? People usually long for more. So many experiences to re-live, and you only want one?" The genie asked, eyebrows raised.
"I only want to know what happened to my best friend, Jen, who died 4 years ago." My voice had become hoarse. "The police said it was suicide, but... I never believed it. Not for a moment since her death. There wasn't a reason for her to do it. Not when we were happily living our lives."
"She seemed like a nice girl." The genie murmured.
I smiled sadly. "She was. I was supposed to meet her here, in the hideout we usually met at. But I was too late. I was only in time to see her breathing her last, hanging from that noose. And I would never rest in peace, not knowing what truly happened that day. "
The genie's lips curled upward. "I understand. As promised then, I shall reveal it to you... Everything."
My eyesight dimmed for a few seconds, and when my vision returned, the genie had vanished. However, the room I was in had not changed, save for the wooden floor which had not rotted away as much. Oddly enough, the lamp that was in the present had also come back to the past, although I could not have possibly took particular note of that fact.
The girl I've yearned to see for years was standing still in the center of the dingy room, facing the grimy window. I could not believe it.
"J-Jen?"
She made no reply. Hesitantly, I edged forward and tapped her on the shoulder.
No response.
Panicking, I whipped around such that I was facing her, and could only gasp.
Her pupils had rolled back in her head, and she was weakly fighting for air. There was nothing that I could see that was strangling her, but there were huge claw-like impressions on her neck. I was too shocked to move, and could only watch as the life drained out of her. She shuddered for a final time, and her body went limp. My body was frozen, and my mind was whirling as my surroundings went pitch black once again.
I could not breathe. Maybe it was because my premonitions had been true from the start. It was murder. But who could it have been? She had clearly been asphyxiated by those claw-like hands, but who did they belong to? And why were they invisible?
As I opened my eyes, those hands closed around my neck like a vice, choking me, suffocating me. The genie's face was so close to mine, blocking my vision of anything else. It was still smiling.
"Now that you have your answer, you too, can rest in peace." | He put down the tablet and pen. Everything written on it had been marked through. He looked at me, I appeared as he would want me to look. I stood before him in a dark blue suit with a light blue dress shirt and grey tie. The image of several attorneys he had known through out his life.
'Forget form, I want to see July 20th, 1992. At the park.' He said with a rough voice.
He was now in a park, a young boy ten feet from him, throwing a tennis ball badly towards him. He reached out and grabbed it in two fingers, smiled and looked to see his son bouncing and clapping.
'Good times,' he said. He sipped from the glass, a golden brown liquid that made him cough slightly. He sat the glass down.
'August 15th, 2001. 5:30 pm.' He put his hands on the table as if to brace himself.
'How could you do this Dad?' His son said angrily. 'Mom hasn't been gone that long, and now you're with someone 12 years younger than you.' The young man pointed at a door that was shut, not even daring to look at the entrance.
'I love her. Your mother would want me, and you, to move on.' He said calmly, but with a shake in his voice and quivering lips.
'What mom wanted was for you to sign her up for the elective treatment, but you never did. You let her die, you gave up on her. You don't deserve to have love ever again.' The son turned and walked to the door leading outside.
'Issac, one day you will understand.' The father said before his son exited the house. He turned and saw the woman, his junior by over a decade, standing there, holding out a hand to him. 'I hope that one day he will understand.' He said as he walked to her and took her hand. She hugged him as he started to cry. 'I loved her, I truly did. And I love you too, Jenna.' He kissed her and she returned the kiss.
'Last one huh?' The older man says as he looks at the final swallow in the glass. I nod. I do not talk when they are making their decisions, I find it affects their choices.
'Very well, 2007, March 21st. 3 pm.'
A smile forms on his face as well as mine. He has chosen well.
'Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join these two souls in loving union. Let us remember that love sees no color, no ethnicity, no creed and no gender.' The woman continues with the service. The man looks over at his wife, the smile on her face is radiant. She lifts his hand and kisses it.
'If there is any here who believe this union should not be, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.' There is a commotion heard outside the building, but the service foes on. 'By the power vested in me by the faith of this congregation, I now pronounce you coupled.'
The doors open and a voice is heard echoing in the building, 'Blasphemy, this union is against the will of God.' Two men grab the man and pull him back outside. The father goes to his son.
'Issac, are you okay?' He touched his son's shoulder and when he turns he sees tears. 'It's okay...' He starts to say, but Issac stops him with a shake of his head.
'It's not that Dad, I finally understand. I understand you and I understand love.' Issac says as he lifts the hand of his husband and kisses it.
'I'm glad son. I'm glad.'
I look at the man, 'Do you feel you have the right choices?'
'As to the dates, I don't know. I know that tomorrow will be a day I hope to not forget.' He said as he stood from the chair.
'Why is that?' I ask with a smile.
'Tomorrow, my son gets married to his husband, and this time it's for real.'
I smile as he leaves.
Yes, they were good choices. | |
[WP] You're a special genie. You allow whoever finds you to re-experience three events that happened in their life for the first time again. Some people choose to re-experience a great movie as if watching it for the first time, some re-live their first kiss. Your latest request sounds quite odd. | Being a Genie of memory I'm used to having all sorts of odd requests. Some people want to relive love, other wish to relive pleasure, others wish to relive happiness, others still wish to relive hope. Each person using their three wishes to relive some moments of joy. So when a haggard young man around the age of 20 walked in I thought I had a pretty good idea of what he wanted.
He was handsome, but you could see he had suffered plenty. Just the type of man desperate to seek me out to relive any moment of pleasure.
"What memories do you wish to relieve young man?"
"Memory. There is just one memory I need."
Well that certainty got me curious.
"Oh? Are you sure? You've managed to summon me so you are entitled to three."
"No. I've come here with one memory that I need. Just one. October 14th, 1997. 10:47 PM."
He gave a shaky breath and lit up a cigarette. It almost seemed like he was afraid of the memory, but there was a steely determination to him. Raising an eyebrow I waved my hand through the air, accessing the past. I focused down to the memory that he needed, grabbed it, and spread it out across the wall like a television screen. He took a deep drag of the cigarette and turned to look at the TV.
In the memory was a little boy, couldn't have been older than 5, happily smiling as he held his parents hands. The three had just excited a theatre and the boy was happily talking about the show.
"And then when Batman punched him in the face and the guy just went KA-BOOM! And flew across the room! That was the coolest! I want to be like Batman when I grow up!"
The father chuckled and fussed up the little boys hair and said, "You're going to have to do a lot of training if you want to be like batman son."
The family laughed happily and talked as they made their way to their car, the parking garage empty and silent except for their chatter. As they grew closer to the car the mother suddenly cried out as a figure stepped out of the shadows. He had an arm wrapped her and a gun pointed to her head. His eyes were cold and his face betrayed no expression, except for a small hint of anger. He spoke in a harsh and unstable tone,
"Mr. and Mrs. Caesar. How lovely you both look tonight. Enjoy the show?"
"Let her go you maniac!" The father yelled an angry look in his eyes.
"Maniac? Such insults must be dealt with," he said with a crooked grin as he took the pistol and smashed it against the mothers eye. She gave a sickening scream that echoed across the room. The man next to me let out a small sob. I paused the memory and patted his shoulder.
"Do you want me to stop?"
"No. Keep going."
I nodded and resumed the memory. The father gave out a cry as his wife's eye started to bleed.
"STOP! STOP! What do you want? Money? Power? Anything! Just... don't harm my family."
"What do I want? You think this is about wants? No I'm here to send a message. Even the most powerful people can be taken down by a criminal. The most powerful man in this city can't even protect his family!" He let a maniacal cackle as he shoved the gun down the mothers throat and pulled the tigger.
"NOOOO!" The father yelled and lunged for the man. The man just kept laughing and punched the father in the face. And pulled out another pistol from his coat. He put it to his head and pulled the trigger, the gunshot echoing throughout the walls. Blood staining the floor the boy fell to his knees and started sobbing as the memory faded to black.
The man who had requested the memory's face was stained with tears. Wiping his face with his sleeve he looked at me and said.
"My father was the mayor. He had just passed laws cracking down on criminals and corruption. A law that pissed off a lot of powerful people. He was one of the few good people in power. Was."
"How did you survive?"
"The man never came after me. He just kept laughing, just walked away with that horrible laugh. Police never found him. He walked free."
He tossed his cigarette down and stomped it out.
"Now can you replay the memory, and pause on his face?"
I nodded, zoomed in on the mans face, and paused the memory. He took a picture and walked forward, memorizing every detail. His eyes had a cold determination to them as he turned to me and said,
"This is the man I've been hunting. This is the man I've been looking for," he pulled out a handgun and cocked it. "This is the man I'm going to kill." | The lamp shakes; puffs of a blissful bubblegum hue seep from the spout. Escalating, the fog sprays out as jets of steam. The mist congregates, a figure appears. The immense nimbus body arches over a child, alone among the deserted expanse. Glittering stars as its eyes, the being fixes its gaze upon the awestruck youth.
"Tell me of a cherished memory; by my grace, you shall experience it once more."
Gazing skyward, she mutters "I don't think I will ever experience anything more wonderful than this."
The stars dim, "I accept this fate."
The lamp shakes; puffs of a blissful bubblegum hue seep from the spout.....
| |
[WP] You're a special genie. You allow whoever finds you to re-experience three events that happened in their life for the first time again. Some people choose to re-experience a great movie as if watching it for the first time, some re-live their first kiss. Your latest request sounds quite odd. | "I don't need three. One is enough." I said.
"Are you sure? People usually long for more. So many experiences to re-live, and you only want one?" The genie asked, eyebrows raised.
"I only want to know what happened to my best friend, Jen, who died 4 years ago." My voice had become hoarse. "The police said it was suicide, but... I never believed it. Not for a moment since her death. There wasn't a reason for her to do it. Not when we were happily living our lives."
"She seemed like a nice girl." The genie murmured.
I smiled sadly. "She was. I was supposed to meet her here, in the hideout we usually met at. But I was too late. I was only in time to see her breathing her last, hanging from that noose. And I would never rest in peace, not knowing what truly happened that day. "
The genie's lips curled upward. "I understand. As promised then, I shall reveal it to you... Everything."
My eyesight dimmed for a few seconds, and when my vision returned, the genie had vanished. However, the room I was in had not changed, save for the wooden floor which had not rotted away as much. Oddly enough, the lamp that was in the present had also come back to the past, although I could not have possibly took particular note of that fact.
The girl I've yearned to see for years was standing still in the center of the dingy room, facing the grimy window. I could not believe it.
"J-Jen?"
She made no reply. Hesitantly, I edged forward and tapped her on the shoulder.
No response.
Panicking, I whipped around such that I was facing her, and could only gasp.
Her pupils had rolled back in her head, and she was weakly fighting for air. There was nothing that I could see that was strangling her, but there were huge claw-like impressions on her neck. I was too shocked to move, and could only watch as the life drained out of her. She shuddered for a final time, and her body went limp. My body was frozen, and my mind was whirling as my surroundings went pitch black once again.
I could not breathe. Maybe it was because my premonitions had been true from the start. It was murder. But who could it have been? She had clearly been asphyxiated by those claw-like hands, but who did they belong to? And why were they invisible?
As I opened my eyes, those hands closed around my neck like a vice, choking me, suffocating me. The genie's face was so close to mine, blocking my vision of anything else. It was still smiling.
"Now that you have your answer, you too, can rest in peace." | The lamp shakes; puffs of a blissful bubblegum hue seep from the spout. Escalating, the fog sprays out as jets of steam. The mist congregates, a figure appears. The immense nimbus body arches over a child, alone among the deserted expanse. Glittering stars as its eyes, the being fixes its gaze upon the awestruck youth.
"Tell me of a cherished memory; by my grace, you shall experience it once more."
Gazing skyward, she mutters "I don't think I will ever experience anything more wonderful than this."
The stars dim, "I accept this fate."
The lamp shakes; puffs of a blissful bubblegum hue seep from the spout.....
| |
[WP] You're a special genie. You allow whoever finds you to re-experience three events that happened in their life for the first time again. Some people choose to re-experience a great movie as if watching it for the first time, some re-live their first kiss. Your latest request sounds quite odd. | "I don't need three. One is enough." I said.
"Are you sure? People usually long for more. So many experiences to re-live, and you only want one?" The genie asked, eyebrows raised.
"I only want to know what happened to my best friend, Jen, who died 4 years ago." My voice had become hoarse. "The police said it was suicide, but... I never believed it. Not for a moment since her death. There wasn't a reason for her to do it. Not when we were happily living our lives."
"She seemed like a nice girl." The genie murmured.
I smiled sadly. "She was. I was supposed to meet her here, in the hideout we usually met at. But I was too late. I was only in time to see her breathing her last, hanging from that noose. And I would never rest in peace, not knowing what truly happened that day. "
The genie's lips curled upward. "I understand. As promised then, I shall reveal it to you... Everything."
My eyesight dimmed for a few seconds, and when my vision returned, the genie had vanished. However, the room I was in had not changed, save for the wooden floor which had not rotted away as much. Oddly enough, the lamp that was in the present had also come back to the past, although I could not have possibly took particular note of that fact.
The girl I've yearned to see for years was standing still in the center of the dingy room, facing the grimy window. I could not believe it.
"J-Jen?"
She made no reply. Hesitantly, I edged forward and tapped her on the shoulder.
No response.
Panicking, I whipped around such that I was facing her, and could only gasp.
Her pupils had rolled back in her head, and she was weakly fighting for air. There was nothing that I could see that was strangling her, but there were huge claw-like impressions on her neck. I was too shocked to move, and could only watch as the life drained out of her. She shuddered for a final time, and her body went limp. My body was frozen, and my mind was whirling as my surroundings went pitch black once again.
I could not breathe. Maybe it was because my premonitions had been true from the start. It was murder. But who could it have been? She had clearly been asphyxiated by those claw-like hands, but who did they belong to? And why were they invisible?
As I opened my eyes, those hands closed around my neck like a vice, choking me, suffocating me. The genie's face was so close to mine, blocking my vision of anything else. It was still smiling.
"Now that you have your answer, you too, can rest in peace." | Being a Genie of memory I'm used to having all sorts of odd requests. Some people want to relive love, other wish to relive pleasure, others wish to relive happiness, others still wish to relive hope. Each person using their three wishes to relive some moments of joy. So when a haggard young man around the age of 20 walked in I thought I had a pretty good idea of what he wanted.
He was handsome, but you could see he had suffered plenty. Just the type of man desperate to seek me out to relive any moment of pleasure.
"What memories do you wish to relieve young man?"
"Memory. There is just one memory I need."
Well that certainty got me curious.
"Oh? Are you sure? You've managed to summon me so you are entitled to three."
"No. I've come here with one memory that I need. Just one. October 14th, 1997. 10:47 PM."
He gave a shaky breath and lit up a cigarette. It almost seemed like he was afraid of the memory, but there was a steely determination to him. Raising an eyebrow I waved my hand through the air, accessing the past. I focused down to the memory that he needed, grabbed it, and spread it out across the wall like a television screen. He took a deep drag of the cigarette and turned to look at the TV.
In the memory was a little boy, couldn't have been older than 5, happily smiling as he held his parents hands. The three had just excited a theatre and the boy was happily talking about the show.
"And then when Batman punched him in the face and the guy just went KA-BOOM! And flew across the room! That was the coolest! I want to be like Batman when I grow up!"
The father chuckled and fussed up the little boys hair and said, "You're going to have to do a lot of training if you want to be like batman son."
The family laughed happily and talked as they made their way to their car, the parking garage empty and silent except for their chatter. As they grew closer to the car the mother suddenly cried out as a figure stepped out of the shadows. He had an arm wrapped her and a gun pointed to her head. His eyes were cold and his face betrayed no expression, except for a small hint of anger. He spoke in a harsh and unstable tone,
"Mr. and Mrs. Caesar. How lovely you both look tonight. Enjoy the show?"
"Let her go you maniac!" The father yelled an angry look in his eyes.
"Maniac? Such insults must be dealt with," he said with a crooked grin as he took the pistol and smashed it against the mothers eye. She gave a sickening scream that echoed across the room. The man next to me let out a small sob. I paused the memory and patted his shoulder.
"Do you want me to stop?"
"No. Keep going."
I nodded and resumed the memory. The father gave out a cry as his wife's eye started to bleed.
"STOP! STOP! What do you want? Money? Power? Anything! Just... don't harm my family."
"What do I want? You think this is about wants? No I'm here to send a message. Even the most powerful people can be taken down by a criminal. The most powerful man in this city can't even protect his family!" He let a maniacal cackle as he shoved the gun down the mothers throat and pulled the tigger.
"NOOOO!" The father yelled and lunged for the man. The man just kept laughing and punched the father in the face. And pulled out another pistol from his coat. He put it to his head and pulled the trigger, the gunshot echoing throughout the walls. Blood staining the floor the boy fell to his knees and started sobbing as the memory faded to black.
The man who had requested the memory's face was stained with tears. Wiping his face with his sleeve he looked at me and said.
"My father was the mayor. He had just passed laws cracking down on criminals and corruption. A law that pissed off a lot of powerful people. He was one of the few good people in power. Was."
"How did you survive?"
"The man never came after me. He just kept laughing, just walked away with that horrible laugh. Police never found him. He walked free."
He tossed his cigarette down and stomped it out.
"Now can you replay the memory, and pause on his face?"
I nodded, zoomed in on the mans face, and paused the memory. He took a picture and walked forward, memorizing every detail. His eyes had a cold determination to them as he turned to me and said,
"This is the man I've been hunting. This is the man I've been looking for," he pulled out a handgun and cocked it. "This is the man I'm going to kill." | |
[WP] You're a special genie. You allow whoever finds you to re-experience three events that happened in their life for the first time again. Some people choose to re-experience a great movie as if watching it for the first time, some re-live their first kiss. Your latest request sounds quite odd. | "You have got to be kidding me?" I mutter to no one but myself.
"Listen. I know the rule is three separate memories, and these all did happen on different days...But come on, they are basically the same thing!"
I continued to talked hoping I could get through to him, "I am not supposed to snoop, turn me in to the guild if you like, but you have had an amazing life. There is no way this is what you want for your final wish."
"How about the time you were camping and scared off that bear? That was a great feat, you protected everyone in the camp?! Or that time you saved the whole family when the house caught fire? You even ran back in and rescued the cat!"
He just stared at me unblinking. I could see reminiscing acts of valor would get me nowhere. Maybe appealing to his baser instincts would do the trick.
"I know you never loved any of them, but how about reliving one of your late night romps. You have had a few fine bitches in your day, one must stand out in your memory?"
Again silence.
"Fine! It's your wish, do whatever you want. But it's because of customers like you that I had to institute the three wish limit!"
I raised my hands, reciting the incantation. The air began to shimmer like the desert sand at mid day. Before us appeared an unassuming white door. The faint thud of a car door closing and the sound of leather soles approaching on a concrete path. A slight pause as someone fumbles with the keys. The sound of the deadbolt retracting, then the metallic click as the spring in the latch releases its tension. A momentary blinding from the bright afternoon light, then he springs into action.
"Oh Cody!" The man says as he walks through the door frame. "Who's a good boy? Have you been waiting here for me all day?" A few more pats to the clients head, before the man gets down on one knee to give him a hug.
His tail is wagging in time with the memory. | I sit hunched at the spirit bar, mumbling into my drink. A thousand years of serving man will do that to you. Nobody at the bar asks any questions-they all deal with the same crap I do, day in and day out, feeling it suck their immortal soul out piece by bloody piece. It's like working in retail but never having a day off, and never being granted the sweet release of death at the end.
A truer hell has never been invented.
I glance down the bar. The wish genie is here, laughing and telling stories, making a mockery of the man that wished for a twelve inch pianist thanks to his lisp and her being hard of hearing. The curse genie is brooding in his usual booth, a sadistic smile on his face as he relives the day's torment. I don't ask. I never ask after hearing the one about honey and fire ants.
But me? I'm preoccupied with my last mortal of the day. "Oh, brother," I mutter drunkenly into my scotch.
"Bad one today?" the silky voice and malevolent smile of the tiger faced nightmare that serves drinks here is already revelling in my misery. I hate this guy, but he beats humans by a long mile.
"No," I say, swaying in my seat and managing to slur the word somehow. "Jussth a weird one." I sniffle.
The rakshasa smiles cruelly. "I thought you'd have seen it all," he chuckles. "What did he ask to see?"
I sip the scotch again. "He wanted to go back three weeksh."
The tiger face growled a bemused little growl. "For?"
I sigh, sinking lower into the bar, and toss back the rest of the scotch. "He wanted to relive his biggest poop."
The tiger man stops in shock, and bursts out laughing. " He WHAT?" he explodes, roaring with laughter.
A single tear rolls down my ethereal cheek. "He wanted a witnessh to prove he wasn't crazy," I whisper. The roaring laughter drowns out the rest of the bar as he sets another glass in front of me. The rest of the bar stares. I don't care. I'm just going to drink until I can't feel my legs and float back to my lamp.
I knew I should have taken a career as an IT gremlin. | |
[WP] You're a special genie. You allow whoever finds you to re-experience three events that happened in their life for the first time again. Some people choose to re-experience a great movie as if watching it for the first time, some re-live their first kiss. Your latest request sounds quite odd. | I had already granted the poor frail child her first two wishes. The first, to re-live the memory of being told her disease was in remission, the joy she felt that day. The second, to re-live her first kiss, a fleeting moment of happiness from the few days age was able to attend a normal school witha young boy named Jeremy.
Now, the young girl was moments from death. She had been granted my services, as a sort of payment for her short, painful life. A type of, " Oh, my bad, here take these three pissy wishes in place of a long happy life."
Young Jessica strained to take a breath so she could speak. Her small body shuddered violently with a harsh wet cough, that left blood and mucous splattered in her hand and chin. I take a Kleenex and gently wipe the mess from her hand and face.
She rolls her sad and pained, but strikingly fierce blue eyes toward me. With a tiny bruised hand she motions me closer, I imagined so I could hear her soft whisper of her last wish.
Softly, barely audible and obviously weak, " Take me back to when I killed my big brother." She smiled viciously with the last words.
I am taken aback, but am obligated to comply. Damn genie contracts and all....
I close my eyes, take a breath, and snap my fingers. In an instant, we are taken back, maybe three years. Jessica is nine years old, she's in a closet, watching as a large boy forces himself on a girl about Jessica's age, but bigger, healthier. Shaking with fury, and weak from the cancer that was already coming back, she grips the sharp piece of broken mirror, and lunges through the closet door, landing on the older boys back. She violently slashes and stabs the neck and throat of the would be rapist. She's stabbing so hard, so furiously that her own hands are turned to rough hamburger.
As the older boys falls dead, Jessica raises her eyes to the small girl laying in years and tattered pajamas on the floor. Before the memory fades out, Jessica looks at her sister, and says " I told you he wouldn't hurt you again. Mom and dad didn't believe us, I told you I would protect you Jennifer."
With a nod, and a snap, we are back in her hospital room, and again, she is almost dead.
She looks at me, with a smile and whispers " The only time in my life I was able to protect my baby sister..." Her voice trails off as she stops breathing. | First it was the noise. People talking softly, as to not wake me up. Somebody's kid was crying afar, and some of the machines went beep-beep beep-beep.
I decided to open my eyes. Even before the light hit my corneas, the smell of a hospital bedroom entered my nostrils with nauseating speed. What was this? What is going on? Am I...
"Look!" one of the men could be heard saying. "He's awake. Go get Jess."
Who's that? Breathing was hard, and it made a lot of noise. With each breath I could feel the urge to cough my lungs out. My lovely Belinda. I couldn't keep my end of the deal. But then again, neither did you.
"Dad. Stay still, the doctors told us they can get you comfortable. At... least." - his voice was cracking. If I hadn't this tube inside my throat right I would laugh at his face. This is only the end, and not even yours. Be a man about it for fuck's sake.
With the absence of my glasses I can't even make sense of who is who. Age really is the ruin of mankind. I saw three men at the other end of the room. All of them dressed like men, built like men, with men haircuts and men voices. Most of all, manly attitudes. None of that crying on each other shoulders or holding my hand in theirs. Nope. This isn't how I raised my boys. And they haven't been boys in a good 20 years.
A kid walks through the room.
"Aunt Jess said she's not coming"
"What do you mean she's not coming? Dad is..." He looked at me. The same runt whose voice just cracked. I locked my furious eyes at his. Say it. Say it, motherfucker, get your closure now or live forever with the realization of the coward you are.
"Dad is dying." This was Mark. My oldest. Never a disappointment. The mope who couldn't finish the line was Terry then. That leaves the always quiet Randy being... well... quiet. Mark continued: "I'm gonna go get Jess", to which Randy says: "are you sure this is what the old coot wants?"
"I don't care what he wants, she has as much a right of being here as any of us."
"NOOO" I try to say, realizing who that is, but only a gutural cry was heard. "I don't want that person in here". They look at me desperate. Mark is gone, Terry comes closer and tries to hold my hand, to which I smack him with all the strength my cancerous body can muster.
The urge to cough gets harder. I can feel the back of my throat alive with mucus and blood. Is this what the doctors meant with being comfortable? The beeping noise is louder. My chapped lips bleed, my chest itches from the inside. This is it, isn't?
A duo of nurses comes through the door. "What the hell?" one of the nurses whispers to the other: "He's on so much morphine he should be in Mars right now. Do we give him more?" "I guess there's no harm in it, he's pretty much gone at the moment"
It hits me almost immediately. This feels good. I mean, the pain is mostly gone. Is this what being high is like? No wonder the kids like it. Wh- what the hell is that? A big shadow below the window gets bigger and bigger, revealing the silhouette of some sort of being. From within, my former child Jeff watched me without saying a word. Only it wasn't him. I'm confused. It sure feels like Jeff, but it also feels like a girl. Oh. I remember now. Useless jerk. From the door I see Mark coming in alone. Randy hasn't moved and inch and Terry is arguing about something with the nurses. More kids start to come in. I can't help but notice one of them doesn't make it past the door. A little girl, seems to be holding someone's hand outside the room, looking at me with curious eyes.
The last I hear is Jeff's girly voice coming from the shadow. "Let's go, this was a mistake." A deep devilish roar answers: "Art thou certain? There shan't be a fourth wish".
"I'm sure. Mom was right. He was so afraid of change that even death couldn't sway him. I only hope he burns in hell."
And then, the void. | |
[WP] You're a special genie. You allow whoever finds you to re-experience three events that happened in their life for the first time again. Some people choose to re-experience a great movie as if watching it for the first time, some re-live their first kiss. Your latest request sounds quite odd. | "You have got to be kidding me?" I mutter to no one but myself.
"Listen. I know the rule is three separate memories, and these all did happen on different days...But come on, they are basically the same thing!"
I continued to talked hoping I could get through to him, "I am not supposed to snoop, turn me in to the guild if you like, but you have had an amazing life. There is no way this is what you want for your final wish."
"How about the time you were camping and scared off that bear? That was a great feat, you protected everyone in the camp?! Or that time you saved the whole family when the house caught fire? You even ran back in and rescued the cat!"
He just stared at me unblinking. I could see reminiscing acts of valor would get me nowhere. Maybe appealing to his baser instincts would do the trick.
"I know you never loved any of them, but how about reliving one of your late night romps. You have had a few fine bitches in your day, one must stand out in your memory?"
Again silence.
"Fine! It's your wish, do whatever you want. But it's because of customers like you that I had to institute the three wish limit!"
I raised my hands, reciting the incantation. The air began to shimmer like the desert sand at mid day. Before us appeared an unassuming white door. The faint thud of a car door closing and the sound of leather soles approaching on a concrete path. A slight pause as someone fumbles with the keys. The sound of the deadbolt retracting, then the metallic click as the spring in the latch releases its tension. A momentary blinding from the bright afternoon light, then he springs into action.
"Oh Cody!" The man says as he walks through the door frame. "Who's a good boy? Have you been waiting here for me all day?" A few more pats to the clients head, before the man gets down on one knee to give him a hug.
His tail is wagging in time with the memory. | First it was the noise. People talking softly, as to not wake me up. Somebody's kid was crying afar, and some of the machines went beep-beep beep-beep.
I decided to open my eyes. Even before the light hit my corneas, the smell of a hospital bedroom entered my nostrils with nauseating speed. What was this? What is going on? Am I...
"Look!" one of the men could be heard saying. "He's awake. Go get Jess."
Who's that? Breathing was hard, and it made a lot of noise. With each breath I could feel the urge to cough my lungs out. My lovely Belinda. I couldn't keep my end of the deal. But then again, neither did you.
"Dad. Stay still, the doctors told us they can get you comfortable. At... least." - his voice was cracking. If I hadn't this tube inside my throat right I would laugh at his face. This is only the end, and not even yours. Be a man about it for fuck's sake.
With the absence of my glasses I can't even make sense of who is who. Age really is the ruin of mankind. I saw three men at the other end of the room. All of them dressed like men, built like men, with men haircuts and men voices. Most of all, manly attitudes. None of that crying on each other shoulders or holding my hand in theirs. Nope. This isn't how I raised my boys. And they haven't been boys in a good 20 years.
A kid walks through the room.
"Aunt Jess said she's not coming"
"What do you mean she's not coming? Dad is..." He looked at me. The same runt whose voice just cracked. I locked my furious eyes at his. Say it. Say it, motherfucker, get your closure now or live forever with the realization of the coward you are.
"Dad is dying." This was Mark. My oldest. Never a disappointment. The mope who couldn't finish the line was Terry then. That leaves the always quiet Randy being... well... quiet. Mark continued: "I'm gonna go get Jess", to which Randy says: "are you sure this is what the old coot wants?"
"I don't care what he wants, she has as much a right of being here as any of us."
"NOOO" I try to say, realizing who that is, but only a gutural cry was heard. "I don't want that person in here". They look at me desperate. Mark is gone, Terry comes closer and tries to hold my hand, to which I smack him with all the strength my cancerous body can muster.
The urge to cough gets harder. I can feel the back of my throat alive with mucus and blood. Is this what the doctors meant with being comfortable? The beeping noise is louder. My chapped lips bleed, my chest itches from the inside. This is it, isn't?
A duo of nurses comes through the door. "What the hell?" one of the nurses whispers to the other: "He's on so much morphine he should be in Mars right now. Do we give him more?" "I guess there's no harm in it, he's pretty much gone at the moment"
It hits me almost immediately. This feels good. I mean, the pain is mostly gone. Is this what being high is like? No wonder the kids like it. Wh- what the hell is that? A big shadow below the window gets bigger and bigger, revealing the silhouette of some sort of being. From within, my former child Jeff watched me without saying a word. Only it wasn't him. I'm confused. It sure feels like Jeff, but it also feels like a girl. Oh. I remember now. Useless jerk. From the door I see Mark coming in alone. Randy hasn't moved and inch and Terry is arguing about something with the nurses. More kids start to come in. I can't help but notice one of them doesn't make it past the door. A little girl, seems to be holding someone's hand outside the room, looking at me with curious eyes.
The last I hear is Jeff's girly voice coming from the shadow. "Let's go, this was a mistake." A deep devilish roar answers: "Art thou certain? There shan't be a fourth wish".
"I'm sure. Mom was right. He was so afraid of change that even death couldn't sway him. I only hope he burns in hell."
And then, the void. | |
[WP] You're a special genie. You allow whoever finds you to re-experience three events that happened in their life for the first time again. Some people choose to re-experience a great movie as if watching it for the first time, some re-live their first kiss. Your latest request sounds quite odd. | "How specific do I have to be?" Noah asked. His light brown eyes were ablaze with a curious light. The geenie had a feeling that this person was not like the others.
"If you can't think of a time, as long as you can specify the event relative to yourself. For example if you want to say I want to remember the time I met my wife, even if you don't remember the date I can take you back to the event."
"That's quite fascinating. Am I able to change the events?"
"No, but you would experience the event just as it was at the time."
"This can only show me memories of the past?"
"Indeed."
Noah seemed a little dejected at that fact.
"I don't remember a lot of things," he said slowly. There was hesitation in his voice. Would my memory be a factor?"
"No, the experience is recreated regardless of your memory.
"I see." He closed his eyes. There was hesitation on his face that I noticed before on those who had experienced much pain in the past. My guess was that he had lost a lover once.
"I want to remember my first death."
"I didn't quite understand what you said."
Noah had a smile on his face and now the light in his eyes was much too bright and somewhat sinister.
"You heard me right. I want to see if you can really do this."
I began the ritual, and this was the first time in a while that I was also genuinely curious as to what I would see.
We were taken to a filthy apartment in an unknown city. There was clutter of every nature and old clothes were thrown about. The walls were bare, with occasional writing on the walls in an unknown language. The cries of a child echoed throughout the apartment. There was a woman holding a newborn child in her arms. Tears rolled down her eyes. She was a young creature, hardly past her teen years. Her hair was short and messy. I sensed a great deal of misery radiating from her shape, and I associated it with the drugs that humans were known from abusing. Her pupils were dilated and there was a tremor in her arms. She lay the child on an unmade bed and took a filty pillow. I understood what she would do. Beside me, Noah observed fascinated.
She spoke softly in an unfamiliar language as she smothered the child. The child's cries stopped eventually and she lifted the pillow. She caressed the child's peaceful face. He was certainly dead. She then picked up the child and enveloped him in cloth. She continued to speak to the child and her tears did not abate.
Noah's voice startled me "Are you certain that's me?"
"Yes," I replied in a trembling voice. "There are no errors with the ritual. How is this possible?"
"I expected something more dramatic," Noah chuckled, "but I suppose we all had to start somewhere."
All at once, the child's cries had resumed. He writhed inside the bundle and the mother began unwrapping it at once. There was shock on her face. She did not embrace the child's small body. She shrieked in her foreign language and went to the kitchen. She came back, a large knife in her right hand.
"We might not want to see this next part," Noah chuckled. "I'm going to guess she carried on for quite some time before she gave up"
"What are you?" I asked him.
He smiled at me and shook his head.
"You aren't the only one who's different."
He put an arm around my shoulders and leaned in. "You said I get two more?"
| First it was the noise. People talking softly, as to not wake me up. Somebody's kid was crying afar, and some of the machines went beep-beep beep-beep.
I decided to open my eyes. Even before the light hit my corneas, the smell of a hospital bedroom entered my nostrils with nauseating speed. What was this? What is going on? Am I...
"Look!" one of the men could be heard saying. "He's awake. Go get Jess."
Who's that? Breathing was hard, and it made a lot of noise. With each breath I could feel the urge to cough my lungs out. My lovely Belinda. I couldn't keep my end of the deal. But then again, neither did you.
"Dad. Stay still, the doctors told us they can get you comfortable. At... least." - his voice was cracking. If I hadn't this tube inside my throat right I would laugh at his face. This is only the end, and not even yours. Be a man about it for fuck's sake.
With the absence of my glasses I can't even make sense of who is who. Age really is the ruin of mankind. I saw three men at the other end of the room. All of them dressed like men, built like men, with men haircuts and men voices. Most of all, manly attitudes. None of that crying on each other shoulders or holding my hand in theirs. Nope. This isn't how I raised my boys. And they haven't been boys in a good 20 years.
A kid walks through the room.
"Aunt Jess said she's not coming"
"What do you mean she's not coming? Dad is..." He looked at me. The same runt whose voice just cracked. I locked my furious eyes at his. Say it. Say it, motherfucker, get your closure now or live forever with the realization of the coward you are.
"Dad is dying." This was Mark. My oldest. Never a disappointment. The mope who couldn't finish the line was Terry then. That leaves the always quiet Randy being... well... quiet. Mark continued: "I'm gonna go get Jess", to which Randy says: "are you sure this is what the old coot wants?"
"I don't care what he wants, she has as much a right of being here as any of us."
"NOOO" I try to say, realizing who that is, but only a gutural cry was heard. "I don't want that person in here". They look at me desperate. Mark is gone, Terry comes closer and tries to hold my hand, to which I smack him with all the strength my cancerous body can muster.
The urge to cough gets harder. I can feel the back of my throat alive with mucus and blood. Is this what the doctors meant with being comfortable? The beeping noise is louder. My chapped lips bleed, my chest itches from the inside. This is it, isn't?
A duo of nurses comes through the door. "What the hell?" one of the nurses whispers to the other: "He's on so much morphine he should be in Mars right now. Do we give him more?" "I guess there's no harm in it, he's pretty much gone at the moment"
It hits me almost immediately. This feels good. I mean, the pain is mostly gone. Is this what being high is like? No wonder the kids like it. Wh- what the hell is that? A big shadow below the window gets bigger and bigger, revealing the silhouette of some sort of being. From within, my former child Jeff watched me without saying a word. Only it wasn't him. I'm confused. It sure feels like Jeff, but it also feels like a girl. Oh. I remember now. Useless jerk. From the door I see Mark coming in alone. Randy hasn't moved and inch and Terry is arguing about something with the nurses. More kids start to come in. I can't help but notice one of them doesn't make it past the door. A little girl, seems to be holding someone's hand outside the room, looking at me with curious eyes.
The last I hear is Jeff's girly voice coming from the shadow. "Let's go, this was a mistake." A deep devilish roar answers: "Art thou certain? There shan't be a fourth wish".
"I'm sure. Mom was right. He was so afraid of change that even death couldn't sway him. I only hope he burns in hell."
And then, the void. | |
[WP] You're a special genie. You allow whoever finds you to re-experience three events that happened in their life for the first time again. Some people choose to re-experience a great movie as if watching it for the first time, some re-live their first kiss. Your latest request sounds quite odd. | I had already granted the poor frail child her first two wishes. The first, to re-live the memory of being told her disease was in remission, the joy she felt that day. The second, to re-live her first kiss, a fleeting moment of happiness from the few days age was able to attend a normal school witha young boy named Jeremy.
Now, the young girl was moments from death. She had been granted my services, as a sort of payment for her short, painful life. A type of, " Oh, my bad, here take these three pissy wishes in place of a long happy life."
Young Jessica strained to take a breath so she could speak. Her small body shuddered violently with a harsh wet cough, that left blood and mucous splattered in her hand and chin. I take a Kleenex and gently wipe the mess from her hand and face.
She rolls her sad and pained, but strikingly fierce blue eyes toward me. With a tiny bruised hand she motions me closer, I imagined so I could hear her soft whisper of her last wish.
Softly, barely audible and obviously weak, " Take me back to when I killed my big brother." She smiled viciously with the last words.
I am taken aback, but am obligated to comply. Damn genie contracts and all....
I close my eyes, take a breath, and snap my fingers. In an instant, we are taken back, maybe three years. Jessica is nine years old, she's in a closet, watching as a large boy forces himself on a girl about Jessica's age, but bigger, healthier. Shaking with fury, and weak from the cancer that was already coming back, she grips the sharp piece of broken mirror, and lunges through the closet door, landing on the older boys back. She violently slashes and stabs the neck and throat of the would be rapist. She's stabbing so hard, so furiously that her own hands are turned to rough hamburger.
As the older boys falls dead, Jessica raises her eyes to the small girl laying in years and tattered pajamas on the floor. Before the memory fades out, Jessica looks at her sister, and says " I told you he wouldn't hurt you again. Mom and dad didn't believe us, I told you I would protect you Jennifer."
With a nod, and a snap, we are back in her hospital room, and again, she is almost dead.
She looks at me, with a smile and whispers " The only time in my life I was able to protect my baby sister..." Her voice trails off as she stops breathing. | The old man smiled up at the genie, tears welling in his eyes. Somehow he looked less fail and lonely on the hospital bed after reliving two of his fondest memories.
"My third wish," he coughed, his words dry and scratching. "Take me back to when I started making these wishes." | |
[WP] You're a special genie. You allow whoever finds you to re-experience three events that happened in their life for the first time again. Some people choose to re-experience a great movie as if watching it for the first time, some re-live their first kiss. Your latest request sounds quite odd. | “Well, what will it be?” asked the Genie, always enjoying the final wish the most. It never ceased to amaze the Genie what people would seek to relive when they are down to their last wish.
The young woman stared at the Genie with a perplexed look on her face. She had sat with that same look for quite some time now, as if all the thoughts in her mind were suddenly gone.
“What is the trouble, young lady? Surely your life has not been so long that you can not come up with one more experience that is worth reliving?” the Genie prodded.
“Honestly sir, the problem is the opposite. There are so many things that I don’t want to relive, that finding a memory that doesn’t remind me of a time I would like to forget is more challenging than I would like to admit.” After a pause, the young lady began again in earnest, “my childhood was filled with abuse at the hands of people who should have protected me. My teenage years were filled with behaviors that I am embarrassed about and that are most likely a direct result of the abuse I suffered as a child. Then, as I entered adulthood, I just let the world pull me along and never really actively participated in my life so all of my memories there are very dull and unwelcoming. If you were me, with my life, what would you want to relive?” she asked with a desire in her eyes the Genie couldn’t ignore.
The Genie thought through the memories he had relived with others in the past and how some people chose to relive the worst memories as if forcing themselves to relive the pain was somehow a punishment they deserved. He thought about the people who chose to relive the most mundane memories of what seemed like the simplest of things. After mulling over the girl's words for several minutes, the Genie arrived at an answer.
“I can not tell you what memory to relive my friend, but what I can tell you is that you are here today, standing in front of me young woman who has grown to so much more than she was. Your strength is obvious to me. Your resilience radiates off of you. You are no longer that abused child or that destructive teenager. You are so much more than that. Perhaps, you can recall the moment when you first realized you were not only a survivor of abuse, but you were so much more and we can relive that.”
The Genie watched as tears glistened in the young woman’s eyes and a slight color came back to her cheeks. He wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, but he would have sworn that she stood a little taller.
“I’ve got it” she said, and she proceeded to relive the first time she helped another victim become a survivor.
| The old man smiled up at the genie, tears welling in his eyes. Somehow he looked less fail and lonely on the hospital bed after reliving two of his fondest memories.
"My third wish," he coughed, his words dry and scratching. "Take me back to when I started making these wishes." | |
[WP] You're a special genie. You allow whoever finds you to re-experience three events that happened in their life for the first time again. Some people choose to re-experience a great movie as if watching it for the first time, some re-live their first kiss. Your latest request sounds quite odd. | "*What did you just say?*" I said, looking extremly confused.
"*Did you not hear?*" Siad 14-year old Jimmy, I came to him because he seemed like a very nice person. I thought he deserved to have fun for all the kindness he has been doing for all the people.
"*I want to re-live my mother's death*" He said, with a normal, calm and happy face.
I was so surprised... I thought, maybe he had an abusive mother? maybe he wanted to think about what he saw again? maybe he wanted to say something to her.
"*If I may ask, why is that?*" I said.
"*You're not allowed to tell anyone, correct?*" He said.
"*That's correct*" I said, most of my suspicions had gone away, since it was maybe just an embaressing reason, or he just didn't want to get called names for it, then I heard what would be the most terrifying words I've heard.
"*I am sick of this nice guy act. I want to see someone die. I want to get that feeling, that's why I am being friendly with these people. I will murder every last one of these 'Friends', and watch them cry and bleed as they cry in surprise.*"
He said, with a grin on his face, he seemed like, no he WAS a sociopath.
"*Just watch. Next Thursday, watch, as Thomas gets murdered and screams, while I act like grieving in sadness, and nobody even suspects me*" He said.
I couldn't do anything. I obligied, and I couldn't wait to leave after his two other requests.
Both of the other requests he made were almost as terrifying..
Needless to say, i left with slight deprision that day.
I decided I would go to Thomas, and give him his three last requests, as he didn't have much more.
I walked in and introduced myself. We chatted for a bit, then I asked him for his requests.
"*I want to see this movie like I never watched it before, so I can feel how great it was*" He said.
A pretty usual request, I obligied.
"*I want to relive my first museum visit school trip, so I can relive the best school trip I've had*" He said.
A second expected request, yet again, I obligied.
"*Last, I want to relive the best day of my life, the day I met my best friend, Jimmy*" He said.
-----THE END----- | The old man smiled up at the genie, tears welling in his eyes. Somehow he looked less fail and lonely on the hospital bed after reliving two of his fondest memories.
"My third wish," he coughed, his words dry and scratching. "Take me back to when I started making these wishes." | |
[WP] You're a special genie. You allow whoever finds you to re-experience three events that happened in their life for the first time again. Some people choose to re-experience a great movie as if watching it for the first time, some re-live their first kiss. Your latest request sounds quite odd. | "You have got to be kidding me?" I mutter to no one but myself.
"Listen. I know the rule is three separate memories, and these all did happen on different days...But come on, they are basically the same thing!"
I continued to talked hoping I could get through to him, "I am not supposed to snoop, turn me in to the guild if you like, but you have had an amazing life. There is no way this is what you want for your final wish."
"How about the time you were camping and scared off that bear? That was a great feat, you protected everyone in the camp?! Or that time you saved the whole family when the house caught fire? You even ran back in and rescued the cat!"
He just stared at me unblinking. I could see reminiscing acts of valor would get me nowhere. Maybe appealing to his baser instincts would do the trick.
"I know you never loved any of them, but how about reliving one of your late night romps. You have had a few fine bitches in your day, one must stand out in your memory?"
Again silence.
"Fine! It's your wish, do whatever you want. But it's because of customers like you that I had to institute the three wish limit!"
I raised my hands, reciting the incantation. The air began to shimmer like the desert sand at mid day. Before us appeared an unassuming white door. The faint thud of a car door closing and the sound of leather soles approaching on a concrete path. A slight pause as someone fumbles with the keys. The sound of the deadbolt retracting, then the metallic click as the spring in the latch releases its tension. A momentary blinding from the bright afternoon light, then he springs into action.
"Oh Cody!" The man says as he walks through the door frame. "Who's a good boy? Have you been waiting here for me all day?" A few more pats to the clients head, before the man gets down on one knee to give him a hug.
His tail is wagging in time with the memory. | The old man smiled up at the genie, tears welling in his eyes. Somehow he looked less fail and lonely on the hospital bed after reliving two of his fondest memories.
"My third wish," he coughed, his words dry and scratching. "Take me back to when I started making these wishes." | |
[WP] You're a special genie. You allow whoever finds you to re-experience three events that happened in their life for the first time again. Some people choose to re-experience a great movie as if watching it for the first time, some re-live their first kiss. Your latest request sounds quite odd. | "How specific do I have to be?" Noah asked. His light brown eyes were ablaze with a curious light. The geenie had a feeling that this person was not like the others.
"If you can't think of a time, as long as you can specify the event relative to yourself. For example if you want to say I want to remember the time I met my wife, even if you don't remember the date I can take you back to the event."
"That's quite fascinating. Am I able to change the events?"
"No, but you would experience the event just as it was at the time."
"This can only show me memories of the past?"
"Indeed."
Noah seemed a little dejected at that fact.
"I don't remember a lot of things," he said slowly. There was hesitation in his voice. Would my memory be a factor?"
"No, the experience is recreated regardless of your memory.
"I see." He closed his eyes. There was hesitation on his face that I noticed before on those who had experienced much pain in the past. My guess was that he had lost a lover once.
"I want to remember my first death."
"I didn't quite understand what you said."
Noah had a smile on his face and now the light in his eyes was much too bright and somewhat sinister.
"You heard me right. I want to see if you can really do this."
I began the ritual, and this was the first time in a while that I was also genuinely curious as to what I would see.
We were taken to a filthy apartment in an unknown city. There was clutter of every nature and old clothes were thrown about. The walls were bare, with occasional writing on the walls in an unknown language. The cries of a child echoed throughout the apartment. There was a woman holding a newborn child in her arms. Tears rolled down her eyes. She was a young creature, hardly past her teen years. Her hair was short and messy. I sensed a great deal of misery radiating from her shape, and I associated it with the drugs that humans were known from abusing. Her pupils were dilated and there was a tremor in her arms. She lay the child on an unmade bed and took a filty pillow. I understood what she would do. Beside me, Noah observed fascinated.
She spoke softly in an unfamiliar language as she smothered the child. The child's cries stopped eventually and she lifted the pillow. She caressed the child's peaceful face. He was certainly dead. She then picked up the child and enveloped him in cloth. She continued to speak to the child and her tears did not abate.
Noah's voice startled me "Are you certain that's me?"
"Yes," I replied in a trembling voice. "There are no errors with the ritual. How is this possible?"
"I expected something more dramatic," Noah chuckled, "but I suppose we all had to start somewhere."
All at once, the child's cries had resumed. He writhed inside the bundle and the mother began unwrapping it at once. There was shock on her face. She did not embrace the child's small body. She shrieked in her foreign language and went to the kitchen. She came back, a large knife in her right hand.
"We might not want to see this next part," Noah chuckled. "I'm going to guess she carried on for quite some time before she gave up"
"What are you?" I asked him.
He smiled at me and shook his head.
"You aren't the only one who's different."
He put an arm around my shoulders and leaned in. "You said I get two more?"
| The old man smiled up at the genie, tears welling in his eyes. Somehow he looked less fail and lonely on the hospital bed after reliving two of his fondest memories.
"My third wish," he coughed, his words dry and scratching. "Take me back to when I started making these wishes." | |
[WP] You're a special genie. You allow whoever finds you to re-experience three events that happened in their life for the first time again. Some people choose to re-experience a great movie as if watching it for the first time, some re-live their first kiss. Your latest request sounds quite odd. | "Okay...so we have May 25th, 1977...what is that, like, your first boner?" I remark.
Insulted, the 50-something year old man looked at me. "*Star Wars* had just come out!! And this time I want to watch it without being stoned to see if it still has the same impact!"
I roll my eyes. "Yeah…uh, okay." Next thing he knows he's a pimply teenager in bellbottoms inside a dark theatre. John William’s score starts playing. Two hours of corny laser noises later and we're back in the present.
The guy came back with a smile on his face. "A little cheesy looking sober, but still a bitchin' movie!"
I cringe. "Uh, sure. You know, for some reason I didn't expect you to be seeing that movie alone."
"Well I didn't want anyone to ruin the experience for me!!" He said defensively.
"Good for you I guess. So number two, what are we feeling?"
He thinks a little bit harder this time. "Let’s do mid-October of 1985.”
In a flash and we’re in a very sad college dorm where an even sadder college kid is playing videogames. He had what I think was supposed to be a mustache on his face, tight pants, and a prominent jewfro. I looked around his dorm room and saw stacks of Huey Lewis and the News records, Cheetos, and an NES where the once old man was about to beat Super Mario Brothers for the first time, for the second time.
“Woohoo!!!” he yelled. But it seemed I was the only person around to hear his cries of joy.
One victory dance later, and we’re back to a somehow less dorky 2017.
“That was exhilarating!” He said grinning.
I looked at him disappointed. “You know I was hoping you’d have some better memories, bud. Don’t you want to go back to the first time you got laid at prom or something?”
“Oh, uh, I didn’t go to prom, sir.” He said.
“…Of course.” I sighed. “Okay well last one, let’s get this over with. Where do you wanna go now?”
He pauses for a moment. I was surprised by the amount of concentration he had this time. "Take me back to September 11, 2001".
Usually I'd take him wherever he wanted immediately, but this time I had to hesitate.
"Really? 9/11?!? You want to relive the worst terrorist attack on American soil?" I questioned his sanity.
"Most definitely!" he exclaimed.
"You sure you didn't mean the premier of *Airplane!* or something?"
He chuckled. "Maybe if I could relive four events, but I'm sure of this one. September 11th, 2001, please."
I’m scared to inquire him any more about it. I work my magic and suddenly we’re in Manhattan outside a comic book store. Dust was engulfing the scene and all I could make out was this guy with heaps of comics in hand. He had to be in his late 30’s, but with all the dust he could have been the same old dude.
“Help!” I hear, but not from him. This voice was soft and higher pitched.
There’s a woman on the ground, covered in rubble and debris. She’s all brown and grey with a streak of blood red on her leg.
I see him run to help her, dropping his comics in the process. He lifts her up and carried her to a clear patch of grass.
He wipes the dust from her face. Underneath is the peaches-and-cream complexion of a scared woman. Her tears clear the last bit of dirt from her cheeks.
“Are you okay?” He asks.
She sniffles a little and simply says “I am now. Thank you”. The chaos around them seemed to dampen to a peaceful silence, as they stared into each other’s eyes for what felt like the next sixteen years.
As quickly as it occurred, we were back in the present.
I’m almost amazed. “So…what was that all about?”.
He was glowing with his response. “Mr. Genieman, I’ve lived a pretty long time. And unfortunately I’ve spent most of that time alone. That woman on the ground was the best thing that happened to me and I wanted remind myself how my life used to be so I could appreciate her even more. Thank you so much for giving me that opportunity.”
I looked back at him and for once, I briefly smiled, and said “Your welcome. Bye.” And left.
The more I think about it I probably should have at least gotten his name.
| The old man smiled up at the genie, tears welling in his eyes. Somehow he looked less fail and lonely on the hospital bed after reliving two of his fondest memories.
"My third wish," he coughed, his words dry and scratching. "Take me back to when I started making these wishes." | |
[WP] You're a special genie. You allow whoever finds you to re-experience three events that happened in their life for the first time again. Some people choose to re-experience a great movie as if watching it for the first time, some re-live their first kiss. Your latest request sounds quite odd. | "You have got to be kidding me?" I mutter to no one but myself.
"Listen. I know the rule is three separate memories, and these all did happen on different days...But come on, they are basically the same thing!"
I continued to talked hoping I could get through to him, "I am not supposed to snoop, turn me in to the guild if you like, but you have had an amazing life. There is no way this is what you want for your final wish."
"How about the time you were camping and scared off that bear? That was a great feat, you protected everyone in the camp?! Or that time you saved the whole family when the house caught fire? You even ran back in and rescued the cat!"
He just stared at me unblinking. I could see reminiscing acts of valor would get me nowhere. Maybe appealing to his baser instincts would do the trick.
"I know you never loved any of them, but how about reliving one of your late night romps. You have had a few fine bitches in your day, one must stand out in your memory?"
Again silence.
"Fine! It's your wish, do whatever you want. But it's because of customers like you that I had to institute the three wish limit!"
I raised my hands, reciting the incantation. The air began to shimmer like the desert sand at mid day. Before us appeared an unassuming white door. The faint thud of a car door closing and the sound of leather soles approaching on a concrete path. A slight pause as someone fumbles with the keys. The sound of the deadbolt retracting, then the metallic click as the spring in the latch releases its tension. A momentary blinding from the bright afternoon light, then he springs into action.
"Oh Cody!" The man says as he walks through the door frame. "Who's a good boy? Have you been waiting here for me all day?" A few more pats to the clients head, before the man gets down on one knee to give him a hug.
His tail is wagging in time with the memory. | I had already granted the poor frail child her first two wishes. The first, to re-live the memory of being told her disease was in remission, the joy she felt that day. The second, to re-live her first kiss, a fleeting moment of happiness from the few days age was able to attend a normal school witha young boy named Jeremy.
Now, the young girl was moments from death. She had been granted my services, as a sort of payment for her short, painful life. A type of, " Oh, my bad, here take these three pissy wishes in place of a long happy life."
Young Jessica strained to take a breath so she could speak. Her small body shuddered violently with a harsh wet cough, that left blood and mucous splattered in her hand and chin. I take a Kleenex and gently wipe the mess from her hand and face.
She rolls her sad and pained, but strikingly fierce blue eyes toward me. With a tiny bruised hand she motions me closer, I imagined so I could hear her soft whisper of her last wish.
Softly, barely audible and obviously weak, " Take me back to when I killed my big brother." She smiled viciously with the last words.
I am taken aback, but am obligated to comply. Damn genie contracts and all....
I close my eyes, take a breath, and snap my fingers. In an instant, we are taken back, maybe three years. Jessica is nine years old, she's in a closet, watching as a large boy forces himself on a girl about Jessica's age, but bigger, healthier. Shaking with fury, and weak from the cancer that was already coming back, she grips the sharp piece of broken mirror, and lunges through the closet door, landing on the older boys back. She violently slashes and stabs the neck and throat of the would be rapist. She's stabbing so hard, so furiously that her own hands are turned to rough hamburger.
As the older boys falls dead, Jessica raises her eyes to the small girl laying in years and tattered pajamas on the floor. Before the memory fades out, Jessica looks at her sister, and says " I told you he wouldn't hurt you again. Mom and dad didn't believe us, I told you I would protect you Jennifer."
With a nod, and a snap, we are back in her hospital room, and again, she is almost dead.
She looks at me, with a smile and whispers " The only time in my life I was able to protect my baby sister..." Her voice trails off as she stops breathing. | |
[WP] You're a special genie. You allow whoever finds you to re-experience three events that happened in their life for the first time again. Some people choose to re-experience a great movie as if watching it for the first time, some re-live their first kiss. Your latest request sounds quite odd. | "How specific do I have to be?" Noah asked. His light brown eyes were ablaze with a curious light. The geenie had a feeling that this person was not like the others.
"If you can't think of a time, as long as you can specify the event relative to yourself. For example if you want to say I want to remember the time I met my wife, even if you don't remember the date I can take you back to the event."
"That's quite fascinating. Am I able to change the events?"
"No, but you would experience the event just as it was at the time."
"This can only show me memories of the past?"
"Indeed."
Noah seemed a little dejected at that fact.
"I don't remember a lot of things," he said slowly. There was hesitation in his voice. Would my memory be a factor?"
"No, the experience is recreated regardless of your memory.
"I see." He closed his eyes. There was hesitation on his face that I noticed before on those who had experienced much pain in the past. My guess was that he had lost a lover once.
"I want to remember my first death."
"I didn't quite understand what you said."
Noah had a smile on his face and now the light in his eyes was much too bright and somewhat sinister.
"You heard me right. I want to see if you can really do this."
I began the ritual, and this was the first time in a while that I was also genuinely curious as to what I would see.
We were taken to a filthy apartment in an unknown city. There was clutter of every nature and old clothes were thrown about. The walls were bare, with occasional writing on the walls in an unknown language. The cries of a child echoed throughout the apartment. There was a woman holding a newborn child in her arms. Tears rolled down her eyes. She was a young creature, hardly past her teen years. Her hair was short and messy. I sensed a great deal of misery radiating from her shape, and I associated it with the drugs that humans were known from abusing. Her pupils were dilated and there was a tremor in her arms. She lay the child on an unmade bed and took a filty pillow. I understood what she would do. Beside me, Noah observed fascinated.
She spoke softly in an unfamiliar language as she smothered the child. The child's cries stopped eventually and she lifted the pillow. She caressed the child's peaceful face. He was certainly dead. She then picked up the child and enveloped him in cloth. She continued to speak to the child and her tears did not abate.
Noah's voice startled me "Are you certain that's me?"
"Yes," I replied in a trembling voice. "There are no errors with the ritual. How is this possible?"
"I expected something more dramatic," Noah chuckled, "but I suppose we all had to start somewhere."
All at once, the child's cries had resumed. He writhed inside the bundle and the mother began unwrapping it at once. There was shock on her face. She did not embrace the child's small body. She shrieked in her foreign language and went to the kitchen. She came back, a large knife in her right hand.
"We might not want to see this next part," Noah chuckled. "I'm going to guess she carried on for quite some time before she gave up"
"What are you?" I asked him.
He smiled at me and shook his head.
"You aren't the only one who's different."
He put an arm around my shoulders and leaned in. "You said I get two more?"
| I had already granted the poor frail child her first two wishes. The first, to re-live the memory of being told her disease was in remission, the joy she felt that day. The second, to re-live her first kiss, a fleeting moment of happiness from the few days age was able to attend a normal school witha young boy named Jeremy.
Now, the young girl was moments from death. She had been granted my services, as a sort of payment for her short, painful life. A type of, " Oh, my bad, here take these three pissy wishes in place of a long happy life."
Young Jessica strained to take a breath so she could speak. Her small body shuddered violently with a harsh wet cough, that left blood and mucous splattered in her hand and chin. I take a Kleenex and gently wipe the mess from her hand and face.
She rolls her sad and pained, but strikingly fierce blue eyes toward me. With a tiny bruised hand she motions me closer, I imagined so I could hear her soft whisper of her last wish.
Softly, barely audible and obviously weak, " Take me back to when I killed my big brother." She smiled viciously with the last words.
I am taken aback, but am obligated to comply. Damn genie contracts and all....
I close my eyes, take a breath, and snap my fingers. In an instant, we are taken back, maybe three years. Jessica is nine years old, she's in a closet, watching as a large boy forces himself on a girl about Jessica's age, but bigger, healthier. Shaking with fury, and weak from the cancer that was already coming back, she grips the sharp piece of broken mirror, and lunges through the closet door, landing on the older boys back. She violently slashes and stabs the neck and throat of the would be rapist. She's stabbing so hard, so furiously that her own hands are turned to rough hamburger.
As the older boys falls dead, Jessica raises her eyes to the small girl laying in years and tattered pajamas on the floor. Before the memory fades out, Jessica looks at her sister, and says " I told you he wouldn't hurt you again. Mom and dad didn't believe us, I told you I would protect you Jennifer."
With a nod, and a snap, we are back in her hospital room, and again, she is almost dead.
She looks at me, with a smile and whispers " The only time in my life I was able to protect my baby sister..." Her voice trails off as she stops breathing. | |
[WP] You're a special genie. You allow whoever finds you to re-experience three events that happened in their life for the first time again. Some people choose to re-experience a great movie as if watching it for the first time, some re-live their first kiss. Your latest request sounds quite odd. | "You have got to be kidding me?" I mutter to no one but myself.
"Listen. I know the rule is three separate memories, and these all did happen on different days...But come on, they are basically the same thing!"
I continued to talked hoping I could get through to him, "I am not supposed to snoop, turn me in to the guild if you like, but you have had an amazing life. There is no way this is what you want for your final wish."
"How about the time you were camping and scared off that bear? That was a great feat, you protected everyone in the camp?! Or that time you saved the whole family when the house caught fire? You even ran back in and rescued the cat!"
He just stared at me unblinking. I could see reminiscing acts of valor would get me nowhere. Maybe appealing to his baser instincts would do the trick.
"I know you never loved any of them, but how about reliving one of your late night romps. You have had a few fine bitches in your day, one must stand out in your memory?"
Again silence.
"Fine! It's your wish, do whatever you want. But it's because of customers like you that I had to institute the three wish limit!"
I raised my hands, reciting the incantation. The air began to shimmer like the desert sand at mid day. Before us appeared an unassuming white door. The faint thud of a car door closing and the sound of leather soles approaching on a concrete path. A slight pause as someone fumbles with the keys. The sound of the deadbolt retracting, then the metallic click as the spring in the latch releases its tension. A momentary blinding from the bright afternoon light, then he springs into action.
"Oh Cody!" The man says as he walks through the door frame. "Who's a good boy? Have you been waiting here for me all day?" A few more pats to the clients head, before the man gets down on one knee to give him a hug.
His tail is wagging in time with the memory. | “Well, what will it be?” asked the Genie, always enjoying the final wish the most. It never ceased to amaze the Genie what people would seek to relive when they are down to their last wish.
The young woman stared at the Genie with a perplexed look on her face. She had sat with that same look for quite some time now, as if all the thoughts in her mind were suddenly gone.
“What is the trouble, young lady? Surely your life has not been so long that you can not come up with one more experience that is worth reliving?” the Genie prodded.
“Honestly sir, the problem is the opposite. There are so many things that I don’t want to relive, that finding a memory that doesn’t remind me of a time I would like to forget is more challenging than I would like to admit.” After a pause, the young lady began again in earnest, “my childhood was filled with abuse at the hands of people who should have protected me. My teenage years were filled with behaviors that I am embarrassed about and that are most likely a direct result of the abuse I suffered as a child. Then, as I entered adulthood, I just let the world pull me along and never really actively participated in my life so all of my memories there are very dull and unwelcoming. If you were me, with my life, what would you want to relive?” she asked with a desire in her eyes the Genie couldn’t ignore.
The Genie thought through the memories he had relived with others in the past and how some people chose to relive the worst memories as if forcing themselves to relive the pain was somehow a punishment they deserved. He thought about the people who chose to relive the most mundane memories of what seemed like the simplest of things. After mulling over the girl's words for several minutes, the Genie arrived at an answer.
“I can not tell you what memory to relive my friend, but what I can tell you is that you are here today, standing in front of me young woman who has grown to so much more than she was. Your strength is obvious to me. Your resilience radiates off of you. You are no longer that abused child or that destructive teenager. You are so much more than that. Perhaps, you can recall the moment when you first realized you were not only a survivor of abuse, but you were so much more and we can relive that.”
The Genie watched as tears glistened in the young woman’s eyes and a slight color came back to her cheeks. He wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, but he would have sworn that she stood a little taller.
“I’ve got it” she said, and she proceeded to relive the first time she helped another victim become a survivor.
| |
[WP] You're a special genie. You allow whoever finds you to re-experience three events that happened in their life for the first time again. Some people choose to re-experience a great movie as if watching it for the first time, some re-live their first kiss. Your latest request sounds quite odd. | "How specific do I have to be?" Noah asked. His light brown eyes were ablaze with a curious light. The geenie had a feeling that this person was not like the others.
"If you can't think of a time, as long as you can specify the event relative to yourself. For example if you want to say I want to remember the time I met my wife, even if you don't remember the date I can take you back to the event."
"That's quite fascinating. Am I able to change the events?"
"No, but you would experience the event just as it was at the time."
"This can only show me memories of the past?"
"Indeed."
Noah seemed a little dejected at that fact.
"I don't remember a lot of things," he said slowly. There was hesitation in his voice. Would my memory be a factor?"
"No, the experience is recreated regardless of your memory.
"I see." He closed his eyes. There was hesitation on his face that I noticed before on those who had experienced much pain in the past. My guess was that he had lost a lover once.
"I want to remember my first death."
"I didn't quite understand what you said."
Noah had a smile on his face and now the light in his eyes was much too bright and somewhat sinister.
"You heard me right. I want to see if you can really do this."
I began the ritual, and this was the first time in a while that I was also genuinely curious as to what I would see.
We were taken to a filthy apartment in an unknown city. There was clutter of every nature and old clothes were thrown about. The walls were bare, with occasional writing on the walls in an unknown language. The cries of a child echoed throughout the apartment. There was a woman holding a newborn child in her arms. Tears rolled down her eyes. She was a young creature, hardly past her teen years. Her hair was short and messy. I sensed a great deal of misery radiating from her shape, and I associated it with the drugs that humans were known from abusing. Her pupils were dilated and there was a tremor in her arms. She lay the child on an unmade bed and took a filty pillow. I understood what she would do. Beside me, Noah observed fascinated.
She spoke softly in an unfamiliar language as she smothered the child. The child's cries stopped eventually and she lifted the pillow. She caressed the child's peaceful face. He was certainly dead. She then picked up the child and enveloped him in cloth. She continued to speak to the child and her tears did not abate.
Noah's voice startled me "Are you certain that's me?"
"Yes," I replied in a trembling voice. "There are no errors with the ritual. How is this possible?"
"I expected something more dramatic," Noah chuckled, "but I suppose we all had to start somewhere."
All at once, the child's cries had resumed. He writhed inside the bundle and the mother began unwrapping it at once. There was shock on her face. She did not embrace the child's small body. She shrieked in her foreign language and went to the kitchen. She came back, a large knife in her right hand.
"We might not want to see this next part," Noah chuckled. "I'm going to guess she carried on for quite some time before she gave up"
"What are you?" I asked him.
He smiled at me and shook his head.
"You aren't the only one who's different."
He put an arm around my shoulders and leaned in. "You said I get two more?"
| “Well, what will it be?” asked the Genie, always enjoying the final wish the most. It never ceased to amaze the Genie what people would seek to relive when they are down to their last wish.
The young woman stared at the Genie with a perplexed look on her face. She had sat with that same look for quite some time now, as if all the thoughts in her mind were suddenly gone.
“What is the trouble, young lady? Surely your life has not been so long that you can not come up with one more experience that is worth reliving?” the Genie prodded.
“Honestly sir, the problem is the opposite. There are so many things that I don’t want to relive, that finding a memory that doesn’t remind me of a time I would like to forget is more challenging than I would like to admit.” After a pause, the young lady began again in earnest, “my childhood was filled with abuse at the hands of people who should have protected me. My teenage years were filled with behaviors that I am embarrassed about and that are most likely a direct result of the abuse I suffered as a child. Then, as I entered adulthood, I just let the world pull me along and never really actively participated in my life so all of my memories there are very dull and unwelcoming. If you were me, with my life, what would you want to relive?” she asked with a desire in her eyes the Genie couldn’t ignore.
The Genie thought through the memories he had relived with others in the past and how some people chose to relive the worst memories as if forcing themselves to relive the pain was somehow a punishment they deserved. He thought about the people who chose to relive the most mundane memories of what seemed like the simplest of things. After mulling over the girl's words for several minutes, the Genie arrived at an answer.
“I can not tell you what memory to relive my friend, but what I can tell you is that you are here today, standing in front of me young woman who has grown to so much more than she was. Your strength is obvious to me. Your resilience radiates off of you. You are no longer that abused child or that destructive teenager. You are so much more than that. Perhaps, you can recall the moment when you first realized you were not only a survivor of abuse, but you were so much more and we can relive that.”
The Genie watched as tears glistened in the young woman’s eyes and a slight color came back to her cheeks. He wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, but he would have sworn that she stood a little taller.
“I’ve got it” she said, and she proceeded to relive the first time she helped another victim become a survivor.
| |
[WP] You're a special genie. You allow whoever finds you to re-experience three events that happened in their life for the first time again. Some people choose to re-experience a great movie as if watching it for the first time, some re-live their first kiss. Your latest request sounds quite odd. | "You have got to be kidding me?" I mutter to no one but myself.
"Listen. I know the rule is three separate memories, and these all did happen on different days...But come on, they are basically the same thing!"
I continued to talked hoping I could get through to him, "I am not supposed to snoop, turn me in to the guild if you like, but you have had an amazing life. There is no way this is what you want for your final wish."
"How about the time you were camping and scared off that bear? That was a great feat, you protected everyone in the camp?! Or that time you saved the whole family when the house caught fire? You even ran back in and rescued the cat!"
He just stared at me unblinking. I could see reminiscing acts of valor would get me nowhere. Maybe appealing to his baser instincts would do the trick.
"I know you never loved any of them, but how about reliving one of your late night romps. You have had a few fine bitches in your day, one must stand out in your memory?"
Again silence.
"Fine! It's your wish, do whatever you want. But it's because of customers like you that I had to institute the three wish limit!"
I raised my hands, reciting the incantation. The air began to shimmer like the desert sand at mid day. Before us appeared an unassuming white door. The faint thud of a car door closing and the sound of leather soles approaching on a concrete path. A slight pause as someone fumbles with the keys. The sound of the deadbolt retracting, then the metallic click as the spring in the latch releases its tension. A momentary blinding from the bright afternoon light, then he springs into action.
"Oh Cody!" The man says as he walks through the door frame. "Who's a good boy? Have you been waiting here for me all day?" A few more pats to the clients head, before the man gets down on one knee to give him a hug.
His tail is wagging in time with the memory. | "*What did you just say?*" I said, looking extremly confused.
"*Did you not hear?*" Siad 14-year old Jimmy, I came to him because he seemed like a very nice person. I thought he deserved to have fun for all the kindness he has been doing for all the people.
"*I want to re-live my mother's death*" He said, with a normal, calm and happy face.
I was so surprised... I thought, maybe he had an abusive mother? maybe he wanted to think about what he saw again? maybe he wanted to say something to her.
"*If I may ask, why is that?*" I said.
"*You're not allowed to tell anyone, correct?*" He said.
"*That's correct*" I said, most of my suspicions had gone away, since it was maybe just an embaressing reason, or he just didn't want to get called names for it, then I heard what would be the most terrifying words I've heard.
"*I am sick of this nice guy act. I want to see someone die. I want to get that feeling, that's why I am being friendly with these people. I will murder every last one of these 'Friends', and watch them cry and bleed as they cry in surprise.*"
He said, with a grin on his face, he seemed like, no he WAS a sociopath.
"*Just watch. Next Thursday, watch, as Thomas gets murdered and screams, while I act like grieving in sadness, and nobody even suspects me*" He said.
I couldn't do anything. I obligied, and I couldn't wait to leave after his two other requests.
Both of the other requests he made were almost as terrifying..
Needless to say, i left with slight deprision that day.
I decided I would go to Thomas, and give him his three last requests, as he didn't have much more.
I walked in and introduced myself. We chatted for a bit, then I asked him for his requests.
"*I want to see this movie like I never watched it before, so I can feel how great it was*" He said.
A pretty usual request, I obligied.
"*I want to relive my first museum visit school trip, so I can relive the best school trip I've had*" He said.
A second expected request, yet again, I obligied.
"*Last, I want to relive the best day of my life, the day I met my best friend, Jimmy*" He said.
-----THE END----- | |
[WP] You're a special genie. You allow whoever finds you to re-experience three events that happened in their life for the first time again. Some people choose to re-experience a great movie as if watching it for the first time, some re-live their first kiss. Your latest request sounds quite odd. | "How specific do I have to be?" Noah asked. His light brown eyes were ablaze with a curious light. The geenie had a feeling that this person was not like the others.
"If you can't think of a time, as long as you can specify the event relative to yourself. For example if you want to say I want to remember the time I met my wife, even if you don't remember the date I can take you back to the event."
"That's quite fascinating. Am I able to change the events?"
"No, but you would experience the event just as it was at the time."
"This can only show me memories of the past?"
"Indeed."
Noah seemed a little dejected at that fact.
"I don't remember a lot of things," he said slowly. There was hesitation in his voice. Would my memory be a factor?"
"No, the experience is recreated regardless of your memory.
"I see." He closed his eyes. There was hesitation on his face that I noticed before on those who had experienced much pain in the past. My guess was that he had lost a lover once.
"I want to remember my first death."
"I didn't quite understand what you said."
Noah had a smile on his face and now the light in his eyes was much too bright and somewhat sinister.
"You heard me right. I want to see if you can really do this."
I began the ritual, and this was the first time in a while that I was also genuinely curious as to what I would see.
We were taken to a filthy apartment in an unknown city. There was clutter of every nature and old clothes were thrown about. The walls were bare, with occasional writing on the walls in an unknown language. The cries of a child echoed throughout the apartment. There was a woman holding a newborn child in her arms. Tears rolled down her eyes. She was a young creature, hardly past her teen years. Her hair was short and messy. I sensed a great deal of misery radiating from her shape, and I associated it with the drugs that humans were known from abusing. Her pupils were dilated and there was a tremor in her arms. She lay the child on an unmade bed and took a filty pillow. I understood what she would do. Beside me, Noah observed fascinated.
She spoke softly in an unfamiliar language as she smothered the child. The child's cries stopped eventually and she lifted the pillow. She caressed the child's peaceful face. He was certainly dead. She then picked up the child and enveloped him in cloth. She continued to speak to the child and her tears did not abate.
Noah's voice startled me "Are you certain that's me?"
"Yes," I replied in a trembling voice. "There are no errors with the ritual. How is this possible?"
"I expected something more dramatic," Noah chuckled, "but I suppose we all had to start somewhere."
All at once, the child's cries had resumed. He writhed inside the bundle and the mother began unwrapping it at once. There was shock on her face. She did not embrace the child's small body. She shrieked in her foreign language and went to the kitchen. She came back, a large knife in her right hand.
"We might not want to see this next part," Noah chuckled. "I'm going to guess she carried on for quite some time before she gave up"
"What are you?" I asked him.
He smiled at me and shook his head.
"You aren't the only one who's different."
He put an arm around my shoulders and leaned in. "You said I get two more?"
| "*What did you just say?*" I said, looking extremly confused.
"*Did you not hear?*" Siad 14-year old Jimmy, I came to him because he seemed like a very nice person. I thought he deserved to have fun for all the kindness he has been doing for all the people.
"*I want to re-live my mother's death*" He said, with a normal, calm and happy face.
I was so surprised... I thought, maybe he had an abusive mother? maybe he wanted to think about what he saw again? maybe he wanted to say something to her.
"*If I may ask, why is that?*" I said.
"*You're not allowed to tell anyone, correct?*" He said.
"*That's correct*" I said, most of my suspicions had gone away, since it was maybe just an embaressing reason, or he just didn't want to get called names for it, then I heard what would be the most terrifying words I've heard.
"*I am sick of this nice guy act. I want to see someone die. I want to get that feeling, that's why I am being friendly with these people. I will murder every last one of these 'Friends', and watch them cry and bleed as they cry in surprise.*"
He said, with a grin on his face, he seemed like, no he WAS a sociopath.
"*Just watch. Next Thursday, watch, as Thomas gets murdered and screams, while I act like grieving in sadness, and nobody even suspects me*" He said.
I couldn't do anything. I obligied, and I couldn't wait to leave after his two other requests.
Both of the other requests he made were almost as terrifying..
Needless to say, i left with slight deprision that day.
I decided I would go to Thomas, and give him his three last requests, as he didn't have much more.
I walked in and introduced myself. We chatted for a bit, then I asked him for his requests.
"*I want to see this movie like I never watched it before, so I can feel how great it was*" He said.
A pretty usual request, I obligied.
"*I want to relive my first museum visit school trip, so I can relive the best school trip I've had*" He said.
A second expected request, yet again, I obligied.
"*Last, I want to relive the best day of my life, the day I met my best friend, Jimmy*" He said.
-----THE END----- | |
[WP] You're a special genie. You allow whoever finds you to re-experience three events that happened in their life for the first time again. Some people choose to re-experience a great movie as if watching it for the first time, some re-live their first kiss. Your latest request sounds quite odd. | "Okay...so we have May 25th, 1977...what is that, like, your first boner?" I remark.
Insulted, the 50-something year old man looked at me. "*Star Wars* had just come out!! And this time I want to watch it without being stoned to see if it still has the same impact!"
I roll my eyes. "Yeah…uh, okay." Next thing he knows he's a pimply teenager in bellbottoms inside a dark theatre. John William’s score starts playing. Two hours of corny laser noises later and we're back in the present.
The guy came back with a smile on his face. "A little cheesy looking sober, but still a bitchin' movie!"
I cringe. "Uh, sure. You know, for some reason I didn't expect you to be seeing that movie alone."
"Well I didn't want anyone to ruin the experience for me!!" He said defensively.
"Good for you I guess. So number two, what are we feeling?"
He thinks a little bit harder this time. "Let’s do mid-October of 1985.”
In a flash and we’re in a very sad college dorm where an even sadder college kid is playing videogames. He had what I think was supposed to be a mustache on his face, tight pants, and a prominent jewfro. I looked around his dorm room and saw stacks of Huey Lewis and the News records, Cheetos, and an NES where the once old man was about to beat Super Mario Brothers for the first time, for the second time.
“Woohoo!!!” he yelled. But it seemed I was the only person around to hear his cries of joy.
One victory dance later, and we’re back to a somehow less dorky 2017.
“That was exhilarating!” He said grinning.
I looked at him disappointed. “You know I was hoping you’d have some better memories, bud. Don’t you want to go back to the first time you got laid at prom or something?”
“Oh, uh, I didn’t go to prom, sir.” He said.
“…Of course.” I sighed. “Okay well last one, let’s get this over with. Where do you wanna go now?”
He pauses for a moment. I was surprised by the amount of concentration he had this time. "Take me back to September 11, 2001".
Usually I'd take him wherever he wanted immediately, but this time I had to hesitate.
"Really? 9/11?!? You want to relive the worst terrorist attack on American soil?" I questioned his sanity.
"Most definitely!" he exclaimed.
"You sure you didn't mean the premier of *Airplane!* or something?"
He chuckled. "Maybe if I could relive four events, but I'm sure of this one. September 11th, 2001, please."
I’m scared to inquire him any more about it. I work my magic and suddenly we’re in Manhattan outside a comic book store. Dust was engulfing the scene and all I could make out was this guy with heaps of comics in hand. He had to be in his late 30’s, but with all the dust he could have been the same old dude.
“Help!” I hear, but not from him. This voice was soft and higher pitched.
There’s a woman on the ground, covered in rubble and debris. She’s all brown and grey with a streak of blood red on her leg.
I see him run to help her, dropping his comics in the process. He lifts her up and carried her to a clear patch of grass.
He wipes the dust from her face. Underneath is the peaches-and-cream complexion of a scared woman. Her tears clear the last bit of dirt from her cheeks.
“Are you okay?” He asks.
She sniffles a little and simply says “I am now. Thank you”. The chaos around them seemed to dampen to a peaceful silence, as they stared into each other’s eyes for what felt like the next sixteen years.
As quickly as it occurred, we were back in the present.
I’m almost amazed. “So…what was that all about?”.
He was glowing with his response. “Mr. Genieman, I’ve lived a pretty long time. And unfortunately I’ve spent most of that time alone. That woman on the ground was the best thing that happened to me and I wanted remind myself how my life used to be so I could appreciate her even more. Thank you so much for giving me that opportunity.”
I looked back at him and for once, I briefly smiled, and said “Your welcome. Bye.” And left.
The more I think about it I probably should have at least gotten his name.
| "*What did you just say?*" I said, looking extremly confused.
"*Did you not hear?*" Siad 14-year old Jimmy, I came to him because he seemed like a very nice person. I thought he deserved to have fun for all the kindness he has been doing for all the people.
"*I want to re-live my mother's death*" He said, with a normal, calm and happy face.
I was so surprised... I thought, maybe he had an abusive mother? maybe he wanted to think about what he saw again? maybe he wanted to say something to her.
"*If I may ask, why is that?*" I said.
"*You're not allowed to tell anyone, correct?*" He said.
"*That's correct*" I said, most of my suspicions had gone away, since it was maybe just an embaressing reason, or he just didn't want to get called names for it, then I heard what would be the most terrifying words I've heard.
"*I am sick of this nice guy act. I want to see someone die. I want to get that feeling, that's why I am being friendly with these people. I will murder every last one of these 'Friends', and watch them cry and bleed as they cry in surprise.*"
He said, with a grin on his face, he seemed like, no he WAS a sociopath.
"*Just watch. Next Thursday, watch, as Thomas gets murdered and screams, while I act like grieving in sadness, and nobody even suspects me*" He said.
I couldn't do anything. I obligied, and I couldn't wait to leave after his two other requests.
Both of the other requests he made were almost as terrifying..
Needless to say, i left with slight deprision that day.
I decided I would go to Thomas, and give him his three last requests, as he didn't have much more.
I walked in and introduced myself. We chatted for a bit, then I asked him for his requests.
"*I want to see this movie like I never watched it before, so I can feel how great it was*" He said.
A pretty usual request, I obligied.
"*I want to relive my first museum visit school trip, so I can relive the best school trip I've had*" He said.
A second expected request, yet again, I obligied.
"*Last, I want to relive the best day of my life, the day I met my best friend, Jimmy*" He said.
-----THE END----- | |
[WP] You're a special genie. You allow whoever finds you to re-experience three events that happened in their life for the first time again. Some people choose to re-experience a great movie as if watching it for the first time, some re-live their first kiss. Your latest request sounds quite odd. | "WHO AWAKENS THE DJINN OF THE PAST?!" I roared mightily, stretching my arms after my cramped rest. I looked down to see a young man, no older than 25, holding my lamp, and staring up at me. I fold my arms and look down on him.
"Are you the Djinn of the past?"
"YES."
"Why are you yelling?"
"I'M NOT. I'M NATURALLY VERY LOUD. DO YOU WISH TO RELIVE THE PAST?"
"Yes."
"WHAT MOMENTS WOULD YOU LIKE TO RETURN TO?"
"My first math test."
"TO YOUR FIRST... wait, first math test?"
"I thought you were naturally loud."
"Why your first math test?"
"I want to change it."
"Huh?"
"It's not permanent, right? Like a dream?"
"Depending."
"On?"
"If you want it to be."
"Not this one."
"AWAY!!" I waved my arms, summoning my strength and returning him to his childhood memories. "Now, I will observe. When you are satisfied, just say, 'Huzzah!', and we shall return."
The world darkened, and when sight came back, I was in the corner of a small third grade room, and he was sitting at a desk. Curious, I sat back and watched. After a moment, a student leaned over and smacked the boy's back. He smiled. The guy leaned over to do it again, and the boy whipped around, grabbing the guys wrist and slamming him to the floor.
"EAT SHIT, ROB!", he yelled as he threw his test in his face. "HUZZAH!" I snapped my fingers, and we returned to the present.
"THAT WAS IT?"
"What?" He was grinning.
"YOU JUST WANTED TO TELL SOMEONE TO EAT SHIT?"
"Yeah."
"INTERESTING. WHAT IS YOUR NEXT DESIRED MEMORY?"
"First day of freshman year."
"PERMANENT?"
"Yes."
"AWAY!!" I repeated the motions from before, this time returning him to the first day of his freshman year. He walked up to a guy that looked like Rob. Rob seemed to be bullying a smaller student. He walked up to Rob, grabbed him by the arm, and flipped him.
"EAT FUCKING SHIT, ROB! Now!" I snapped my fingers and we returned.
"That felt good."
"WHO WAS THAT YOUNG MAN?"
"My crush's little brother. I had originally just stood up to him, but he knocked my lights out. I figured, saving her brother would have the same effect, but get me some cred with her."
"FAIR ENOUGH. WHAT IS YOUR LAST MEMORY?"
"July 23rd, 2010. 3:40 PM."
"PERMANENT?"
"Yes. When I finish my second sentence, send me back here."
"AS YOU WISH. AWAY!!!"
This time, we were in a darkened theater. He was sitting next to a girl of his age, watching a movie. She was leaning on his shoulder.
"Hey, Arya?"
"Yeah?" He put a hand on her cheek, and she looked up at him. He took a deep breath, and kissed her.
"I love you." I waited, allowing him to see the result.
She smiled and laid her head back on his shoulder.
"I know. I'm glad you said it. Want to know why?"
"Why?"
"Because I love you too."
I quietly snapped my fingers, and brought us back. He was crying.
"She loved me too?"
"BOY."
"What?"
"LOOK AT YOUR FINGER."
He looked down, and gasped in surprise, dropping my lamp.
"A... a ring...?"
"SHE LOVED YOU TOO."
He fell to his knees, taking the ring off and staring at it, covering his mouth with his hand.
"She... she married me?"
"HERE." I tapped his head, and filled it with the memories his actions changed; the end of the date, the subsequent outings, their first time making love, him proposing, their children. Oh, how he cried anew when he saw his children. Their children.
"Oh, god... thank you, Djinn, thank you."
"My name is Jrantr Al'ahlam. Granter of Dreams."
"Jrantr. Thank you."
"Now go. Go to your family." He turned and ran, tears of joy running down his cheeks. I returned to the lamp, content that I had saved another's life from their regrets. | "That seems sad" the genie wrung his hands as he looked down at the man.
"No, its not its what I want, please" the man said looking up at the genie in all its power. "I miss her"
The genie reached out one hand and clasped the mans shoulder. "Your wish sir". The man blinked.
He was in a hospital. The long sterile smelling hallway broken up by doors, some open some closed. Crying could be heard coming from some rooms as he walked down the hall to the final room. He reached out for ths doorknob and took a deep breath. The handle turned and there she was.
He forgot how small she got at the end.Long wires and tubes surrounded her, the incessant beeping of machinery around her was always shocking. Her tiny body shrunken by the disease, how he hated that disease. She turned to him and he saw her face break out into a smile. The warmest most welcoming smile only a mother could give.
| |
[WP] You're a special genie. You allow whoever finds you to re-experience three events that happened in their life for the first time again. Some people choose to re-experience a great movie as if watching it for the first time, some re-live their first kiss. Your latest request sounds quite odd. | "WHO AWAKENS THE DJINN OF THE PAST?!" I roared mightily, stretching my arms after my cramped rest. I looked down to see a young man, no older than 25, holding my lamp, and staring up at me. I fold my arms and look down on him.
"Are you the Djinn of the past?"
"YES."
"Why are you yelling?"
"I'M NOT. I'M NATURALLY VERY LOUD. DO YOU WISH TO RELIVE THE PAST?"
"Yes."
"WHAT MOMENTS WOULD YOU LIKE TO RETURN TO?"
"My first math test."
"TO YOUR FIRST... wait, first math test?"
"I thought you were naturally loud."
"Why your first math test?"
"I want to change it."
"Huh?"
"It's not permanent, right? Like a dream?"
"Depending."
"On?"
"If you want it to be."
"Not this one."
"AWAY!!" I waved my arms, summoning my strength and returning him to his childhood memories. "Now, I will observe. When you are satisfied, just say, 'Huzzah!', and we shall return."
The world darkened, and when sight came back, I was in the corner of a small third grade room, and he was sitting at a desk. Curious, I sat back and watched. After a moment, a student leaned over and smacked the boy's back. He smiled. The guy leaned over to do it again, and the boy whipped around, grabbing the guys wrist and slamming him to the floor.
"EAT SHIT, ROB!", he yelled as he threw his test in his face. "HUZZAH!" I snapped my fingers, and we returned to the present.
"THAT WAS IT?"
"What?" He was grinning.
"YOU JUST WANTED TO TELL SOMEONE TO EAT SHIT?"
"Yeah."
"INTERESTING. WHAT IS YOUR NEXT DESIRED MEMORY?"
"First day of freshman year."
"PERMANENT?"
"Yes."
"AWAY!!" I repeated the motions from before, this time returning him to the first day of his freshman year. He walked up to a guy that looked like Rob. Rob seemed to be bullying a smaller student. He walked up to Rob, grabbed him by the arm, and flipped him.
"EAT FUCKING SHIT, ROB! Now!" I snapped my fingers and we returned.
"That felt good."
"WHO WAS THAT YOUNG MAN?"
"My crush's little brother. I had originally just stood up to him, but he knocked my lights out. I figured, saving her brother would have the same effect, but get me some cred with her."
"FAIR ENOUGH. WHAT IS YOUR LAST MEMORY?"
"July 23rd, 2010. 3:40 PM."
"PERMANENT?"
"Yes. When I finish my second sentence, send me back here."
"AS YOU WISH. AWAY!!!"
This time, we were in a darkened theater. He was sitting next to a girl of his age, watching a movie. She was leaning on his shoulder.
"Hey, Arya?"
"Yeah?" He put a hand on her cheek, and she looked up at him. He took a deep breath, and kissed her.
"I love you." I waited, allowing him to see the result.
She smiled and laid her head back on his shoulder.
"I know. I'm glad you said it. Want to know why?"
"Why?"
"Because I love you too."
I quietly snapped my fingers, and brought us back. He was crying.
"She loved me too?"
"BOY."
"What?"
"LOOK AT YOUR FINGER."
He looked down, and gasped in surprise, dropping my lamp.
"A... a ring...?"
"SHE LOVED YOU TOO."
He fell to his knees, taking the ring off and staring at it, covering his mouth with his hand.
"She... she married me?"
"HERE." I tapped his head, and filled it with the memories his actions changed; the end of the date, the subsequent outings, their first time making love, him proposing, their children. Oh, how he cried anew when he saw his children. Their children.
"Oh, god... thank you, Djinn, thank you."
"My name is Jrantr Al'ahlam. Granter of Dreams."
"Jrantr. Thank you."
"Now go. Go to your family." He turned and ran, tears of joy running down his cheeks. I returned to the lamp, content that I had saved another's life from their regrets. | People take me for granted. That moment where you see the light at the end of the tunnel and your life flashes before your eyes? That’s not some miracle. Its hard work, diligence, and magic. It used to be that I gave people every highlight they ever had, but lately based upon the influx of people, I’ve had to narrow it down to three. So with every death, I come to them and exchange for their life a final gift—what three things would you like to re-experience?
Sex. Highs. Even murder. People really show their true colors when they have nothing to lose and can have anything they ever wanted, especially the ones with greying hair and a lifetime’s worth of highlights to choose from. Grandparents are the nastiest.
John Roseberg lay with his eyes closed and breath waning. Thin grey hair sit atop of his head like a halo. The heart beat monitor beside him is a canary slowly losing its voice.
To his side sits a woman who looks just a bit younger than him. She has hair thinner than his. It falls in curling strands to her shoulders, threatening at any moment to break off from her scalp. Her eyes, a faded blue, stare at John’s heart beat monitor, her breath matching its pace. She smells of cigarettes, not like she just had one, but like she had bathed in nicotine.
“Honey,” John says, squeezing her hand. “I’m so sorry.”
She doesn’t respond, just keeps her eyes on John’s metallic canary. *Beep*, it sings. *Beep. Beeeeep. Beeeeeeeep.*
“I should’ve tried to understand,” John says, his voice barely audible to even himself. “I should’ve…”
But he never finished the sentence. His canary sings a final lasting note and the woman besides him finally allows herself noise. She chokes out a small wail and covers her face. “I’m sorry, too,” she whispers.
Which is my cue to start working. Time freezes.
“John,” I say, hovering over him and he opens his eyes once again.
“What? Where am I?”
“You get three experiences to re-live. Only three. Think of one and when I snap my fingers, you’ll get to relive it.” Long drawn-out explanations was for a time before eight billion monkeys.
“Wait, what is this?”
“Have one in mind?” I ready my fingers to snap. “Three. Two. One.” And I snap my fingers.
John’s breaths stop. His eyes stay wide open. Out of curiosity, I peek. What kind of nasty things have you done with your life, grandpa?
The experience lasts barely three seconds. Snow falls. Small flutters of wind blow around him, winding the snow in a wild dance. I see a small girl with luscious blonde curls and eyes as wide and blue as the Pacific.
“Look, daddy,” she says, an open-mouthed smile showcasing two missing front teeth. “It’s a snow angel.” She plops into the snow, wiping it with her arms.
“Yes it is, Sarah,” John mutters, smiling back. “You certainly are.”
It ends and I’m back with John. I sigh. I had expected better of a man who’s lived over eighty years.
“Alright,” I tell him. “Got your second one in mind?”
John simply nods and we’re back in the snow, winter nibbling at our skin. The same girl stands in front of us. “Look daddy,” she says, plopping into the snow. “It’s a snow angel.”
“Yes it is, Sarah,” John mutters, this time tears leaking from his eyes. “You certainly are.”
The experience ends.
I furrow my brow at John. “Did you mean to…”
“I’m ready for my next one,” he says.
I give him a long look. Using all your experiences on a single moment wasn’t unheard of, but one that barely lasted five seconds? I shake my head. It isn’t for me to decide.
We’re back to that same experience.
“Look daddy, it’s a snow angel.”
This time, John has one veiny hand covering his face. He screams into his palms and tears splatter into the snow, melting tear-shaped gorges into the perfect white blanket. “Yes it is, Sarah,” he chokes through. “You certainly are.”
The experience ends. So does John. Time starts again and his heart beat monitor is still singing that note. But now, there’s a smile on John’s face.
The woman beside him gets up and calls the nurse. A nurse soon walks in.
“It happened,” she says, battling down sobs.
The nurse gives her a small nod. “I’m really sorry for your loss Ms. Roseberg.” She puts a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Sarah.”
---
---
/r/jraywang for 200+ stories already written!
| |
[WP] You're a special genie. You allow whoever finds you to re-experience three events that happened in their life for the first time again. Some people choose to re-experience a great movie as if watching it for the first time, some re-live their first kiss. Your latest request sounds quite odd. | "One request," the boy said. He couldn't have been over sixteen.
"What do you mean, one request?" I asked, genuinely confused. Over the thousand years I had been a Genie, I had never had someone refuse to use all three wishes.
"I only wish to relive one experience," he said, his voice solemn.
"So it shall be," I responded, completely intrigued. "Young master, what is your wish?"
"September 5th, 2004. Six-Thirty in the evening," he said, his voice quavering slightly.
I nodded, drawing upon the energy from the shimmering air around me, and created a bubble. I watched the scene unfold.
A boy sat on the ground, laughing with joy, his small fingers barely able to grasp the large gamecube controller. On screen, a small kirby danced around, barely avoiding a slash from Marth's sword. The kid laughed again, exclaiming in joy as Marth's character went flying offscreen.
A knock on the front door.
The boy jumped up, his game momentarily forgotten as he ran to the door in the hopes that whoever it was had brought presents with them. He opened to door, surprised and happy to see his dad walk into the room. But his dad wasn't happy. His expression wasn't happy, but dark. The boy was scared.
"Martha, what the hell is this?" his dad yelled, the tone of his voice unlike anything the boy had ever heard before. The dad knelt down, kneeling beside the boy, a firm hand on his shoulder. His eyes were kind, as they always were when he looked at his son.
"Theo, buddy. I'm going to need you to go to your room. I need to talk to your mom in private. I love you buddy," he said. The boy nodded, pretending to run back to his video game. He stopped at the corner, peering around the to watch his father.
"Who the hell is here, Martha?" his dad asked again. A door upstairs opened, and two sets of footsteps shuffled towards the staircase. One was a lot louder than the other.
The two people reached the bottom of the stairs. One was the boy's mom, Martha, and the other was a large man with a cotton shirt. There was something in his pocket.
"Jake Fowler. I fucking knew it! Fuck you Martha! How could you do this? To me, to Theo!" his dad was screaming now, using words Theo had never heard before. His mom was crying, tears cascading to the ground as she stood in-between the two men. The man wearing the cotton shirt was not screaming nor crying, instead, he reached into his pocked, his expression dark and angry.
He pulled out a gun, pointing it at Theo's dad.
"Leave, you worthless fuck," he said, turning to Martha. "Tell him, Martha. Tell him you love me more than you ever loved him. Tell him how useless he is. Tell him!"
"No." Her response was barely audibly over her sobs, but the cotton shirt man heard it. His eyes went ablaze with fury, and he turned to Martha, pointing his gun at her.
"What did you say? Tell him you love me more. Tell him!" he demanded.
This time, no words came out. All she could manage to do was to shake her head no.
A gun cocks, then fires. The boy screams as his mother falls to the ground, her sobbing finally stopped. The dad screams and lunges forward, grasping the gun as he hits the ground. He turns, moments before the cotton shirt man is upon him, then fires. Once, twice, thrice. The cotton shirt man hits the ground, stained in red.
The boy runs to his father, crying. The father holds him, a broken look in his eyes, but his eyes not yet devoid of love as he continues to look at his son. He is crying too now, and as flashes of red and blue arrive from outside the windows, he speaks to his son.
"I love you, Theo. No matter what, I love you," he puts the crying boy down, getting up to meet the police officers. They handcuff him, taking him away to a police car. The boy is taken away too, given candy and games. He barely hears a few words spoken too loudly by an officer.
"A double murder. Caught his wife with this man, killed em' both."
The air ripples, as the vision is ripped apart, the dusty room with a teenager and a lamp returning.
I looked at the boy, and saw tears running down his face. He nods at me, causing a tear to fall from his face.
"It's true then. He was telling me the truth," Theo said through his tears. "He really didn't do it."
***
[More stories at my sub, ConlehWrites!](https://www.reddit.com/r/ConlehWrites/)
Whoever guilded me for this, thank you so much. I've never been guilded for my writing before, so it means a LOT that you would spend money to send me gold. Thank you so much. To any comments I haven't responded to I've been out a lot and anytime I'm at my computer I'm responding!! Thanks for reading guys. | "And now, for your final experience!" Exclaimed the genie, throwing his arms wide and his chest out. Before him, an elderly man stood, his fingers still clutches around the lamp. And though wrinkles cut into the man's face, and wisps of grey hair danced around his temple, the genie was his senior by two thousand years. A difficult feat, considering the man himself couldn't remember his own age.
"Well, let's see," said the man, stroking his scraggly beard, more wrinkles appearing as he entered heavy thought. "Whatever shall I choose? I've already chosen my two favorites."
He smiled, revealing his last two crooked teeth that clutched stubbornly to his gums like trees left after a hurricane.
"*Those* were your two favorites?" exclaimed the genie, slapping his head with a heavily ringed hand, "Surely you have something better! Something exciting, something incredible! A once in a lifetime opportunity you want to see twice!"
"Oh no, oh no," the man shook his head, his expression certain, "Number one surely was the day I met Annabelle. I really can't top that. Impossible, I'd say."
"Your best memory was the day you met your cat?" the genie asked, incredulous, "How about the day you met your wife?!"
"Oh no!" Cackled the man, "That's not a good one at all! If you were a regular genie, I'd ask you to scrub that memory away! And second would have to be that one time at Bellisimos, when I ate an entire deep dish pizza by myself! Oh, the cheese, I still find bits in my beard. Those two certainly were the best I've ever had."
"Come on," sighed the genie, glancing at his watch, "If those were the two best ones, surely it shouldn't be hard to find one even better! Hell, you could just go back to Bellisimos, you didn't have to waste a wish on it!"
"Nope, they don't let me in there anymore after I stopped paying," the man frowned, "But it's been a hard life. If I could, I'd relive those two memories forever. Say, what if-"
"No!" shouted the genie, his face whitening as he realized the next words to come out of the man's mouth, "Don't!"
"What if I relived this experience, the one I just had with you? Yes, that's my third wish!"
***
By Leo
[Writing stories about powerful beings is my favorite! Check out my superhero story if you enjoy reading them! You can read it on reddit.](https://www.reddit.com/r/leoduhvinci/comments/65jl9n/star_child_part_1/) | |
[WP] The next Lord of Darkness and his followers have taken over the world. You're the Lord's translator and scribe when an accidental potion of his has turned him physically into a baby. He seats at his throne, cooing, while his murderous followers look at you for instructions on his behalf. | The baby sat in the throne and cried. His most high ranking minions looked toward me. I gulped and said "he says to send Parkith's squadron to the elves forest". Parkith unfurled his wings, nodded and flew off to get his minions. The Dark Lord continued crying, and I translated "The rest of you are dismissed he said". The other six generals saluted to the baby and disappeared, in puffs of smoke and bursts of flame.
As soon as they were gone I grinned viciously. They trusted me because I had been with the Dark Lord longer than they had all together. What they didn't know, is that I had only stayed to gain power and my plan was working. I had acquired a potion, then made the Dark Lord drink it, turning him into an honest to god forsaken baby. I had saved the Dark Lord's life many times. Just so I could manipulate him. But the real treasure were his tomes that he kept secret from everyone. And once I had learnt where they were, I waited for the right time to put my plan in action. Now, I was one of the most powerful people in the world.
I went into the the Dark Lord's room, with him in tow in my hands. We went in and I sealed the door. I was also "taking care" of the Dark Lord. I went to underneath his bed and saw nothing, good. I then looked up at the frame and unlatched the miniscule lock. Out came his books. I picked them and started to read. The darkness in the world would be mine to control. As I read I slowly manipulated more of the darkness around me, swirling it like flames. I changed their colour to vantablack. I committed the books to memory, then made them disappear into the endless void. I grinned a little wider. Soon I would reveal myself, as the Next Lord of Darkness.
I walked into the courtyard and practiced. Gravity and reality bent under my control. There would be no stopping me. I teleported from shadow to shadow. I flared the darkness around me. A burst of black light, seared the air with its cold. I was now much more powerful than any of the generals, but I could still get much stronger. I went back inside and consumed the Dark Lord with the darkness, his darkness. No, my darkness now. I cackled gleefully. Time to reveal myself.
I walked into the throne room, forming armor out of the darkness. I went and sat on my throne. I beckoned the servant to call the generals. "Yes Lord!" as he went to his knee, in awe and terror. The generals came in quickly. Lucifer, Parkith, Farce, Mephisto, Earache, and at last, Succubii. "What is the meaning of this?" said Earache. "Bow to me, the new Dark Lord" I exclaimed. Then, when none of them did, I pushed the darkness into their backs. They tried to resist, but could not. One by one, they said "Lord, we pledge our allegiance". "Now let me think of a proper course of action. Be gone!" I told them. They vanished swiftly. I pondered, rolling the darkness in my hands. Suddenly my body stopped working, and then it moved again. But this time it was not I that moved it. In my mind I heard a raspy voice, "There is no Lord of Darkness, for I govern myself".
More at r/MaestroWrites
Sorry about grammar, typed from my phone.
*Edit: Fixed grammar | The eyes of counsel stared at him
High-chair, diaper, little bib
Unbelieving, first did I
But no in fact this is the guy
The one who rules over the dark
The one who orders, yells and barks
Though now his temper stifled true
To speak his power comes through coo
'Co^oo ' the baby, man then said
The counsel puzzled shook their heads
Then turned their gaze from babe to me
'What words are this, what do we see'
'The Lord of Dark' I started here
'He turned himself into a mere
Hapless baby, words of young
But rest assured I speak the tongue'
'Coo' again the Lord then spoke
'Ah yes, I see, but which old bloke'
And raising arm, pointed finger
The Lord made clear 'Ah Mr. Ringer'
'Step forward please, the Lord so ask
He wants to ask you simple task'
'Of course my Lord' quick Ringer thinks
'Please change his diaper, it really sticks' | |
[WP] You wished for immortality upon a star that was 100 light years away. Your wish has just been granted, 200 years later. | I was a young, impressionable teenager when I made that wish, probably high, definetly not thinking.
It was a conversation I was having with my friends, about life and death, our finite lifespans. This was deep and quite disappointing to us, especially after Jackie's suicide last week. She was there one day, gone the next, and wouldn't be able to experience life anymore.
So I looked a star -- a random star, one out of a billion billion points of light in the vast open sky -- and wished for immortality. I didn't want to end up like Jackie, to wind up unable to experience so much of the world. It was a dumb wish that I soon forgot about.
But the stars didn't. They are vast, powerful objects, more powerful than we pathetic mortals can comprehend. They hear; it just takes them a while because they're hundreds of light years away.
Years went by, and that bitter understanding about life and death nagged at the back of my mind for a long time. After high school, I didn't bother with college. Instead I took all the money I had -- which wasn't much -- and hopped on a bus to some random city. From there I went to another, then another, sometimes walking, sometimes riding. I lost contact with my friends and family after my phone was stolen in Los Angeles, but by then I didn't really care. I barely spoke to them anyway, so maybe they thought I was was dead. I would be eventually, I thought, so they might as well work their grief out.
Then I met her. It wasn't like what they show in the movies; no spark, no love at first sight. Rather, it was a chance encounter in a park. I was trying to find someplace to settle down for the night, one where the police wouldn't see me. She was walking her dog when it got away from her and ran up to me. It was likely smelling the hamburger I had wrapped up in my bag as it jumped up against me, shoving its big nose toward it. She quickly reclaimed her dog, apologizing profusely for its behavior. We somehow started talking, and she offered to let me stay at her apartment for a few days until it was time to move on.
I wound up staying there for months. I'm not sure what made me stay, but every time I thought about leaving I found some excuse to stick around. She never asked when I was leaving, and at first just treated me like a guest.
Then all of a sudden it was October, when yesterday it had been June. Where had the time gone, I wondered. I started looking for work, as I didn't want her to keep taking care of me, and eventually found a job at some retail location.
What point does this have, you ask? Well, living with her, having this...stability, it made me realize something. Not all at once, mind you, but gradually. I came to realize that life wasn't just a short trip to death. It...changes, it grows. Life is one big, scary road, but what direction you take is entirely up to you. Because in the end, you'll look back on what you've done, and decide whether it was worth it all. If you were truly happy living life as you did. And I realized that living life as I was, drifting from place to place, wasn't satisfying at all. It was long and lonely, with no real goal at the end except death.
I married her eventually. We settled down, had kids, and I lived a good life. A good life. When I laid in that hospital decades later, I was surrounded by my loved ones, my children and grandchildren. I smiled. I was happy. I died.
Then I woke up.
I was trapped in a coffin six feet underground, but strangely the lack of oxygen didn't bother me. I had no need to breathe anymore. It took me two days to escape my grave, and I emerged to a completely different world. Much of my surroundings were battered and scorched. Destroyed in a solar flare well after my death. The surviving humans had either fled into space or hid underground.
That star I had wished upon so, so long ago had heard my request and for whatever reason granted it. I don't even know which one, only that it must've been about 200 light years from Earth after I figured out I was 214 years old.
So now I can experience everything life has to offer, except there's nothing left on this planet. I no longer need to eat, or sleep, or drink or breathe. But now I'm alone, my life once more unfulfilling.
So you tell me now, and you will tell me true. How do I die?
(Apologies for any formatting errors, on mobile) | Now as I wake from a deep sleep
The ground around me crumbles
There is a burning, scorching heat
With only the the Sun's mumble
Time has passed I know no one
Anyone who sees me runs away
Why is it that they run? | |
[WP] The four horsemen: Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death are the harbingers of the apocalypse, serving forth chaos and destruction on all humanity. The Bible forgot to mention the fifth horseman: Kyle, whom the other four can't seem to ditch. | "Ugh..." Death moans, "Kyle is still following us."
"And will continue to until we starve him of attention." noted Famine.
"I don't understand why Death hasn't just killed him," complained Pestilence.
"It doesn't work that way...," Death said shamefully.
"Even if he could it would not be right," claimed War, " you know he's... 'Special'."
As the four horsemen stood around, Kyle had gone off distracted by a butterfly.
"Great now he's wondering off again," Famine noticed.
"Alright who's turn is it this time?" Death sighed.
"No no no, guys this is good thing," Pestilence said excited.
"How is this a good thing? You know God will have our heads, literally, if we lose him!" War exclaimed.
"OK, if Kyle's so important then what's his purpose? Name one good thing he has done for us." Pestilence replied.
"Honestly I couldn't care less about him..." Death grumbled.
"That's not the point, he's one us after all!" War shouted.
Excited by what he just heard Kyle came scrambling over to the Horsemen.
"Am eh owne of hue now?" Kyle asked, slobber dripping from his mouth.
"Yes Kyle you are on of us now," replied War. | "You ready for this?" asked Death.
Pestilence, War, and Famine nodded.
"Not quite," said Kyle.
He was currently attempting to get on his steed and having great difficulty getting his leg over the saddle. The burro flipped its flaming tail lazily as it waited for him to right himself. It snorted smoke and whinnied.
"C'mon, lift your leg up higher and slide into place," offered War reassuringly.
Death look at his watch impatiently.
"We're going to be late if you don't get your act together," said Death, tapping a bony finger against his wrist.
Kyle slid into place and promptly fell off the other side of his burro. He landed on the cloud below, a puff of vapor rising from his outline as he sunk into it softly.
"Almost got it, guys. Let me try again," said Kyle cheerfully.
Pestilence sighed and got off his horse. He stepped through the green vapor the horse emanated and came to Kyle's side.
Kyle looked up to him and smiles shyly.
"Sorry, I really am trying. I've never ridden an animal before," said Kyle sheepishly.
Pestilence nodded and reaching down picked up Kyle by his shoulders and placed him on his saddle.
"Loop your feel through the footholds," said Pestilence.
Kyle did as he was told.
"Grab the reins," said Pestilence.
Kyle did so.
Pestilence walked back to his warhorse and got back into his saddle.
"Finally," said Death, offering a skeletal smile below his black hood.
They lead their horses to the edge of the cloud they rested on. The sky bled red as far as the eye could see and the ground burned in the fiery light.
"What am I to do?" asked Kyle, peering over the edge of the cloud bank and gulping audibly. He was scared of heights, and even though he had materialized up here after a night of a particularly long game of Civilization v, he still wasn't too sure he would just fall off the edge once they got started.
"Well, I take the lives," said Death.
"I starve the survivors," said Famine.
"I make sure those that have food fight each other for it," offered War.
"And I make sure that the food they have makes them ill beyond repair," said Pestilence.
"...and I help how?" asked Kyle.
"We have no idea. You and your donkey just showed up when we did. We figured you might know what it was about?" said Death.
Kyle shook his head slowly.
Death sighed.
"Right, well maybe that'll become clearer as we get started. Pestilence would you do the honours?" said Death.
Pestilence waved his arms wide open, and a scourge spread across the land. Trees withered. Lakes and rivers turned a bubbling green, and livestock split open in great cracking fissures along their hides.
The four horsemen rode out into the sky.
Kyle and his burro hesitated momentarily, and reluctantly he followed.
| |
[WP] The four horsemen: Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death are the harbingers of the apocalypse, serving forth chaos and destruction on all humanity. The Bible forgot to mention the fifth horseman: Kyle, whom the other four can't seem to ditch. | It was the end times. The last days of humanity. The Four Horsemen had broken the seventh seal and were now loosed upon the world.
For Death it was a Tuesday.
He sat upon his bone steed looking out over the ravaged landscape. A few pockets of humanity still clung on, but they were a dying breed.
Almost.
Some glimmer of hope, some shred of humility still remain in their mortal shells. His brothers did not know what they still clawed at life, but Death knew. He had always knew.
"We should ride down there and finish them off and be done with this." War grumbled. His arms flexing, waiting to kill. Maim. Destroy.
"Patience my dear brother. Their time will soon come." Pestilence hissed over pox marked lips. His voice was barely above a whisper.
"But I, like War, desire this to be over." Famine croaked thru his dry cracked throat, "I thirst for it to be done."
"Silence. It will be done when its done. We are immortal time does not effect us as it does them." Death commanded his brother. His voice was a rich baritone which commanded the respect of his brothers.
"HEY!!! HEY!!!! WAIT UP FOR ME!!!!!!" a child like called from behind them.
"Oh for the love of father...." War dropped his head to he chest.
Pestilence shivered in disgust, "Please not him."
Famine actual looked like he was gagging on some thing.
Only Death stood straight and tall in his saddle. "Hello Kyle."
"Why do we put up with this...this...abomination?" War whispered thru clenched teeth.
Death whirl his head around to look and War, flames wreathed his skeleton eyes, "Because he is our brother. Family. And while we may not wish him to be here, he is. Now still your tongue lest I remove it from your head."
War and Death stared at each other till Kyle rode up to them. War tore his gaze away from his brother. If Death had lips when would have given a slight grin. No one could stare down Death.
"Sorry I am late brothers, my ponies legs are short. Its tough for me to keep up with you." Kyle said with his little child like voice.
War huffed a response that got Pestilence to chuckle. Death sighed at Kyle, "Its fine brother. We are just about to finish off the last of the human."
Kyle scrunched his ten year old looking eyes at the valley below them. "Maybe we should leave them alone. It will be a hundred centuries before they rebuild back to where they were."
"WHAT?!?!?!" War exploded it outrage. Kyle slumped a little bit in his saddle and pinched his eyes shut.
"YOU HAVE GOT BE KIDDING ME WITH THIS! THIS IS OUR JOB!!! WHAT WE WERE CREATED TO DO!" War was shaking with rage now. The muscles were taunt with pent up energy. He jumped down from his horse was stalked to over to Kyle, who look every bit like a freighted ten year old.
"Watch your tone brother." Death said thru clenched teeth.
"Shut up. Your defended this little monster every time he thwarts our plans..."
"YOUR plans. Not father's plans." Death corrected him.
"OUR plans! How many wars did I start? Hundreds? Thousands? Untold killed! By Lucifer hair backside I started TWO world wars! Be he stopped them. Stopped all of them! Pestilence tried with the Black Death. He stopped it. Famine tried, how many times was it?" War shouted at Death.
"Too many. I gave up after that potato one." Famine sighed.
"But father did not want that, it wasn't part of his plan for humanity." Kyle said is quiet voice still looking at the ground.
"And you Death, you reaped ALL the death that WE caused!" War said with a finger pointing him.
Death said nothing. His fingers were gripped tightly around his reins.
"Please War, brother, we are family. We should get along and fall pray to these...." Kyle was saying as he dismounted from his pony. Suddenly War bellowed a inhumane war cry, they cry that would shatter mountains and rally the troops to battle, a swung his fist at Kyle.
It was so fast, not even Death could stop it. The impact shock cratered the landscape round them. Once the wind died down and the other horsemen could look, War was standing there, mouth agape, at Kyle.
Kyle stopped the personification of war and strength with his hand effortlessly. He began to squeeze Wars hand. Since the dawn of the universe, War let out a gasp of pain and went to one knee.
"Are you done?" Kyle asked.
"I will slaughter you for this." War said thru pain clenched lips. Kyle tightened his grip which caused another yelp of pain from War.
"ARE. YOU. DONE?" Kyle asked. Gone was little child's voice, but now a thousand deep voices echo in there heads.
"Yes" War said quietly.
Kyle let him go. "You have all, ALL, have run rampant over father's creation for too long. He had a plan and you kept screwing it up. So he need to called down the apocalypse to start over again. But I told him if there was a chance that humanity could be saved, put back on the plan, should we take it. Thank the Heavens that he agreed. So I had to come stop you."
"And why, then you who are the fifth horsemen stop us? You should be joining us!" Pestilence said.
"You never asked me want my title was. What Horseman am I?" Kyle said, back to his ten year old self.
The other horsemen looked sheepishly at each other and the ground.
"I am the Horseman of Mercy." Kyle said with a broad smile on his face.
Death could only shake his head and whisper, "Lord have mercy."
"I heard that!!!!" Kyle said.
Please be gentle. This the first thing I have ever written so be a little kind :)
EDIT sorry about the spelling/grammatical errors. Just got home from work. 😁 | "You ready for this?" asked Death.
Pestilence, War, and Famine nodded.
"Not quite," said Kyle.
He was currently attempting to get on his steed and having great difficulty getting his leg over the saddle. The burro flipped its flaming tail lazily as it waited for him to right himself. It snorted smoke and whinnied.
"C'mon, lift your leg up higher and slide into place," offered War reassuringly.
Death look at his watch impatiently.
"We're going to be late if you don't get your act together," said Death, tapping a bony finger against his wrist.
Kyle slid into place and promptly fell off the other side of his burro. He landed on the cloud below, a puff of vapor rising from his outline as he sunk into it softly.
"Almost got it, guys. Let me try again," said Kyle cheerfully.
Pestilence sighed and got off his horse. He stepped through the green vapor the horse emanated and came to Kyle's side.
Kyle looked up to him and smiles shyly.
"Sorry, I really am trying. I've never ridden an animal before," said Kyle sheepishly.
Pestilence nodded and reaching down picked up Kyle by his shoulders and placed him on his saddle.
"Loop your feel through the footholds," said Pestilence.
Kyle did as he was told.
"Grab the reins," said Pestilence.
Kyle did so.
Pestilence walked back to his warhorse and got back into his saddle.
"Finally," said Death, offering a skeletal smile below his black hood.
They lead their horses to the edge of the cloud they rested on. The sky bled red as far as the eye could see and the ground burned in the fiery light.
"What am I to do?" asked Kyle, peering over the edge of the cloud bank and gulping audibly. He was scared of heights, and even though he had materialized up here after a night of a particularly long game of Civilization v, he still wasn't too sure he would just fall off the edge once they got started.
"Well, I take the lives," said Death.
"I starve the survivors," said Famine.
"I make sure those that have food fight each other for it," offered War.
"And I make sure that the food they have makes them ill beyond repair," said Pestilence.
"...and I help how?" asked Kyle.
"We have no idea. You and your donkey just showed up when we did. We figured you might know what it was about?" said Death.
Kyle shook his head slowly.
Death sighed.
"Right, well maybe that'll become clearer as we get started. Pestilence would you do the honours?" said Death.
Pestilence waved his arms wide open, and a scourge spread across the land. Trees withered. Lakes and rivers turned a bubbling green, and livestock split open in great cracking fissures along their hides.
The four horsemen rode out into the sky.
Kyle and his burro hesitated momentarily, and reluctantly he followed.
| |
[WP] The four horsemen: Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death are the harbingers of the apocalypse, serving forth chaos and destruction on all humanity. The Bible forgot to mention the fifth horseman: Kyle, whom the other four can't seem to ditch. | Famine, ever the outgoing personality that he is, reached out to grip his hand, in a firm, but meaningful, welcome to the astral planes.
"Oooh yeah, good to meet you boys, I could go for some Doritos."
This was absolutely not the reaction to which we were accustomed. Typically, immediate withering and death would occur. That would be a normal scenario. However, our new friend Kyle seemed somewhat unperturbed by the situation around him. Before we could notice what happened... our fellow rider Famine had been vanquished.
"Pestilence, you're up," I muttered, as Kyle pushed forth with his cadre of angels.
"Yes, this one will be mine," he recited in guttural tones, casual yet as foreboding as one could imagine.
Kyle, greeted by Pestilence, brandished a bizarre phallic instrument that seemed to dismiss any sort of..."greeting" that Pestilence sought to deliver. As quickly as the exchange had started, it was over.
"And aloha to you as well, my newly acquainted friend!" Kyle proclaimed, as he snapped a picture over his corpse.
What in the actual fuck. Who was this individual, in a floral print t-shirt, taking pictures of the reapers of the apocalypse? There was only one thing left to do. To give him my salutations, something that would end this and bring us back to normalcy. With everything upended, and only me to address our interloper in our most *considerate* of manners, I proceeded.
"Greetings," I uttered, grimacing with a candor that was uncertain of whose judgment this was exactly.
"Hello!" Kyle replied, with an unfitting exuberance that now commanded the attention of everything in the room. "I've heard SO much about you all."
I approached. I had seen so many fall before me, and Kyle should be no different. As I extended my hand in salutations I noticed him carving strange glyphs in the ground.
E-L-B
No matter. I went forth, thrusting my most effective "greeting" in his direction. "Come," I said, inviting him to his pernicious demise.
*you hear the howling of the CwnAnnwn*
"This couldn't be!" I exclaimed, watching from what was now a distance too far to ever meet Kyle again. I watched as he donned a new helmet, despite the actual denizens of hell striking him with unholy might repeatedly. He took another picture with the camera dangling from his neck, despite the denizens of hell striking him with unholy might repeatedly. He gave a salute, and exclaimed, "THIS WAS THE EASIEST ONE YET," then proceeded to vanish into thin air.
And there was no mistaking it. That was someone that, despite the name he used, was our brother who strode through the astral planes and wrought only murder.
Kyle was War. | "You ready for this?" asked Death.
Pestilence, War, and Famine nodded.
"Not quite," said Kyle.
He was currently attempting to get on his steed and having great difficulty getting his leg over the saddle. The burro flipped its flaming tail lazily as it waited for him to right himself. It snorted smoke and whinnied.
"C'mon, lift your leg up higher and slide into place," offered War reassuringly.
Death look at his watch impatiently.
"We're going to be late if you don't get your act together," said Death, tapping a bony finger against his wrist.
Kyle slid into place and promptly fell off the other side of his burro. He landed on the cloud below, a puff of vapor rising from his outline as he sunk into it softly.
"Almost got it, guys. Let me try again," said Kyle cheerfully.
Pestilence sighed and got off his horse. He stepped through the green vapor the horse emanated and came to Kyle's side.
Kyle looked up to him and smiles shyly.
"Sorry, I really am trying. I've never ridden an animal before," said Kyle sheepishly.
Pestilence nodded and reaching down picked up Kyle by his shoulders and placed him on his saddle.
"Loop your feel through the footholds," said Pestilence.
Kyle did as he was told.
"Grab the reins," said Pestilence.
Kyle did so.
Pestilence walked back to his warhorse and got back into his saddle.
"Finally," said Death, offering a skeletal smile below his black hood.
They lead their horses to the edge of the cloud they rested on. The sky bled red as far as the eye could see and the ground burned in the fiery light.
"What am I to do?" asked Kyle, peering over the edge of the cloud bank and gulping audibly. He was scared of heights, and even though he had materialized up here after a night of a particularly long game of Civilization v, he still wasn't too sure he would just fall off the edge once they got started.
"Well, I take the lives," said Death.
"I starve the survivors," said Famine.
"I make sure those that have food fight each other for it," offered War.
"And I make sure that the food they have makes them ill beyond repair," said Pestilence.
"...and I help how?" asked Kyle.
"We have no idea. You and your donkey just showed up when we did. We figured you might know what it was about?" said Death.
Kyle shook his head slowly.
Death sighed.
"Right, well maybe that'll become clearer as we get started. Pestilence would you do the honours?" said Death.
Pestilence waved his arms wide open, and a scourge spread across the land. Trees withered. Lakes and rivers turned a bubbling green, and livestock split open in great cracking fissures along their hides.
The four horsemen rode out into the sky.
Kyle and his burro hesitated momentarily, and reluctantly he followed.
| |
[WP] The four horsemen: Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death are the harbingers of the apocalypse, serving forth chaos and destruction on all humanity. The Bible forgot to mention the fifth horseman: Kyle, whom the other four can't seem to ditch. | "Ugh..." Death moans, "Kyle is still following us."
"And will continue to until we starve him of attention." noted Famine.
"I don't understand why Death hasn't just killed him," complained Pestilence.
"It doesn't work that way...," Death said shamefully.
"Even if he could it would not be right," claimed War, " you know he's... 'Special'."
As the four horsemen stood around, Kyle had gone off distracted by a butterfly.
"Great now he's wondering off again," Famine noticed.
"Alright who's turn is it this time?" Death sighed.
"No no no, guys this is good thing," Pestilence said excited.
"How is this a good thing? You know God will have our heads, literally, if we lose him!" War exclaimed.
"OK, if Kyle's so important then what's his purpose? Name one good thing he has done for us." Pestilence replied.
"Honestly I couldn't care less about him..." Death grumbled.
"That's not the point, he's one us after all!" War shouted.
Excited by what he just heard Kyle came scrambling over to the Horsemen.
"Am eh owne of hue now?" Kyle asked, slobber dripping from his mouth.
"Yes Kyle you are on of us now," replied War. | Mankind has come to fear what it calls the instruments of God's judgement upon his creation. Death, war, famine, and disease strike without warning and wreak destruction on the world of men. But they, save for a few, remain oblivious to the Creator's true cruelty.
There is a fifth instrument of judgement. Consciousness.
The pains inflicted on mankind by the four horsemen are magnified by their awareness of the inevitability of those pains and their ultimate powerlessness to ever defend against them.
Nature, at once engaged in eternal struggle against the void, but oblivious to it, bored god. Once created it sought no refuge in his grace, it merely existed - afflicted by mortality but unaware of it.
So god created the fifth instrument and imbued nature with it, forging fear in the fires of conscious thought and driving his creation to seek him, to worship him, to beg his mercy.
Why, one might ask, would god torment that which he wrought? Is god evil? No. The answer lies in imagining that which is unimaginable: existence in absolute isolation, a oneness so complete as to be horrifying. Unable to die and unable to unmake himself and escape the prison of existence god created beings from the fabric of his Divinity, separate from himself and desiring unity with him. Giving his existence some semblance of a purpose.
He created man and placed in his soul fear of the unknown and created beings to seek him out and he basked in the worship of his creation. The four horsemen are simply tools to in the hands of the fifth, whose sole purpose is to remind mortals of death, of the void, thereby fulfilling god's need for adulation, worship, and pleas for mercy from creatures made aware of their condition and the inevitability of the all-consuming void from which he alone is immune.
(Note: I may flesh this out at some point, this is essentially just a general idea. The fifth horseman being consciousness. Honestly, it sounded better in my head, but I'm writing this in a doctor's office and my phone is nearly dead.) | |
[WP] The four horsemen: Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death are the harbingers of the apocalypse, serving forth chaos and destruction on all humanity. The Bible forgot to mention the fifth horseman: Kyle, whom the other four can't seem to ditch. | It was the end times. The last days of humanity. The Four Horsemen had broken the seventh seal and were now loosed upon the world.
For Death it was a Tuesday.
He sat upon his bone steed looking out over the ravaged landscape. A few pockets of humanity still clung on, but they were a dying breed.
Almost.
Some glimmer of hope, some shred of humility still remain in their mortal shells. His brothers did not know what they still clawed at life, but Death knew. He had always knew.
"We should ride down there and finish them off and be done with this." War grumbled. His arms flexing, waiting to kill. Maim. Destroy.
"Patience my dear brother. Their time will soon come." Pestilence hissed over pox marked lips. His voice was barely above a whisper.
"But I, like War, desire this to be over." Famine croaked thru his dry cracked throat, "I thirst for it to be done."
"Silence. It will be done when its done. We are immortal time does not effect us as it does them." Death commanded his brother. His voice was a rich baritone which commanded the respect of his brothers.
"HEY!!! HEY!!!! WAIT UP FOR ME!!!!!!" a child like called from behind them.
"Oh for the love of father...." War dropped his head to he chest.
Pestilence shivered in disgust, "Please not him."
Famine actual looked like he was gagging on some thing.
Only Death stood straight and tall in his saddle. "Hello Kyle."
"Why do we put up with this...this...abomination?" War whispered thru clenched teeth.
Death whirl his head around to look and War, flames wreathed his skeleton eyes, "Because he is our brother. Family. And while we may not wish him to be here, he is. Now still your tongue lest I remove it from your head."
War and Death stared at each other till Kyle rode up to them. War tore his gaze away from his brother. If Death had lips when would have given a slight grin. No one could stare down Death.
"Sorry I am late brothers, my ponies legs are short. Its tough for me to keep up with you." Kyle said with his little child like voice.
War huffed a response that got Pestilence to chuckle. Death sighed at Kyle, "Its fine brother. We are just about to finish off the last of the human."
Kyle scrunched his ten year old looking eyes at the valley below them. "Maybe we should leave them alone. It will be a hundred centuries before they rebuild back to where they were."
"WHAT?!?!?!" War exploded it outrage. Kyle slumped a little bit in his saddle and pinched his eyes shut.
"YOU HAVE GOT BE KIDDING ME WITH THIS! THIS IS OUR JOB!!! WHAT WE WERE CREATED TO DO!" War was shaking with rage now. The muscles were taunt with pent up energy. He jumped down from his horse was stalked to over to Kyle, who look every bit like a freighted ten year old.
"Watch your tone brother." Death said thru clenched teeth.
"Shut up. Your defended this little monster every time he thwarts our plans..."
"YOUR plans. Not father's plans." Death corrected him.
"OUR plans! How many wars did I start? Hundreds? Thousands? Untold killed! By Lucifer hair backside I started TWO world wars! Be he stopped them. Stopped all of them! Pestilence tried with the Black Death. He stopped it. Famine tried, how many times was it?" War shouted at Death.
"Too many. I gave up after that potato one." Famine sighed.
"But father did not want that, it wasn't part of his plan for humanity." Kyle said is quiet voice still looking at the ground.
"And you Death, you reaped ALL the death that WE caused!" War said with a finger pointing him.
Death said nothing. His fingers were gripped tightly around his reins.
"Please War, brother, we are family. We should get along and fall pray to these...." Kyle was saying as he dismounted from his pony. Suddenly War bellowed a inhumane war cry, they cry that would shatter mountains and rally the troops to battle, a swung his fist at Kyle.
It was so fast, not even Death could stop it. The impact shock cratered the landscape round them. Once the wind died down and the other horsemen could look, War was standing there, mouth agape, at Kyle.
Kyle stopped the personification of war and strength with his hand effortlessly. He began to squeeze Wars hand. Since the dawn of the universe, War let out a gasp of pain and went to one knee.
"Are you done?" Kyle asked.
"I will slaughter you for this." War said thru pain clenched lips. Kyle tightened his grip which caused another yelp of pain from War.
"ARE. YOU. DONE?" Kyle asked. Gone was little child's voice, but now a thousand deep voices echo in there heads.
"Yes" War said quietly.
Kyle let him go. "You have all, ALL, have run rampant over father's creation for too long. He had a plan and you kept screwing it up. So he need to called down the apocalypse to start over again. But I told him if there was a chance that humanity could be saved, put back on the plan, should we take it. Thank the Heavens that he agreed. So I had to come stop you."
"And why, then you who are the fifth horsemen stop us? You should be joining us!" Pestilence said.
"You never asked me want my title was. What Horseman am I?" Kyle said, back to his ten year old self.
The other horsemen looked sheepishly at each other and the ground.
"I am the Horseman of Mercy." Kyle said with a broad smile on his face.
Death could only shake his head and whisper, "Lord have mercy."
"I heard that!!!!" Kyle said.
Please be gentle. This the first thing I have ever written so be a little kind :)
EDIT sorry about the spelling/grammatical errors. Just got home from work. 😁 | Mankind has come to fear what it calls the instruments of God's judgement upon his creation. Death, war, famine, and disease strike without warning and wreak destruction on the world of men. But they, save for a few, remain oblivious to the Creator's true cruelty.
There is a fifth instrument of judgement. Consciousness.
The pains inflicted on mankind by the four horsemen are magnified by their awareness of the inevitability of those pains and their ultimate powerlessness to ever defend against them.
Nature, at once engaged in eternal struggle against the void, but oblivious to it, bored god. Once created it sought no refuge in his grace, it merely existed - afflicted by mortality but unaware of it.
So god created the fifth instrument and imbued nature with it, forging fear in the fires of conscious thought and driving his creation to seek him, to worship him, to beg his mercy.
Why, one might ask, would god torment that which he wrought? Is god evil? No. The answer lies in imagining that which is unimaginable: existence in absolute isolation, a oneness so complete as to be horrifying. Unable to die and unable to unmake himself and escape the prison of existence god created beings from the fabric of his Divinity, separate from himself and desiring unity with him. Giving his existence some semblance of a purpose.
He created man and placed in his soul fear of the unknown and created beings to seek him out and he basked in the worship of his creation. The four horsemen are simply tools to in the hands of the fifth, whose sole purpose is to remind mortals of death, of the void, thereby fulfilling god's need for adulation, worship, and pleas for mercy from creatures made aware of their condition and the inevitability of the all-consuming void from which he alone is immune.
(Note: I may flesh this out at some point, this is essentially just a general idea. The fifth horseman being consciousness. Honestly, it sounded better in my head, but I'm writing this in a doctor's office and my phone is nearly dead.) | |
[WP] The four horsemen: Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death are the harbingers of the apocalypse, serving forth chaos and destruction on all humanity. The Bible forgot to mention the fifth horseman: Kyle, whom the other four can't seem to ditch. | Famine, ever the outgoing personality that he is, reached out to grip his hand, in a firm, but meaningful, welcome to the astral planes.
"Oooh yeah, good to meet you boys, I could go for some Doritos."
This was absolutely not the reaction to which we were accustomed. Typically, immediate withering and death would occur. That would be a normal scenario. However, our new friend Kyle seemed somewhat unperturbed by the situation around him. Before we could notice what happened... our fellow rider Famine had been vanquished.
"Pestilence, you're up," I muttered, as Kyle pushed forth with his cadre of angels.
"Yes, this one will be mine," he recited in guttural tones, casual yet as foreboding as one could imagine.
Kyle, greeted by Pestilence, brandished a bizarre phallic instrument that seemed to dismiss any sort of..."greeting" that Pestilence sought to deliver. As quickly as the exchange had started, it was over.
"And aloha to you as well, my newly acquainted friend!" Kyle proclaimed, as he snapped a picture over his corpse.
What in the actual fuck. Who was this individual, in a floral print t-shirt, taking pictures of the reapers of the apocalypse? There was only one thing left to do. To give him my salutations, something that would end this and bring us back to normalcy. With everything upended, and only me to address our interloper in our most *considerate* of manners, I proceeded.
"Greetings," I uttered, grimacing with a candor that was uncertain of whose judgment this was exactly.
"Hello!" Kyle replied, with an unfitting exuberance that now commanded the attention of everything in the room. "I've heard SO much about you all."
I approached. I had seen so many fall before me, and Kyle should be no different. As I extended my hand in salutations I noticed him carving strange glyphs in the ground.
E-L-B
No matter. I went forth, thrusting my most effective "greeting" in his direction. "Come," I said, inviting him to his pernicious demise.
*you hear the howling of the CwnAnnwn*
"This couldn't be!" I exclaimed, watching from what was now a distance too far to ever meet Kyle again. I watched as he donned a new helmet, despite the actual denizens of hell striking him with unholy might repeatedly. He took another picture with the camera dangling from his neck, despite the denizens of hell striking him with unholy might repeatedly. He gave a salute, and exclaimed, "THIS WAS THE EASIEST ONE YET," then proceeded to vanish into thin air.
And there was no mistaking it. That was someone that, despite the name he used, was our brother who strode through the astral planes and wrought only murder.
Kyle was War. | Mankind has come to fear what it calls the instruments of God's judgement upon his creation. Death, war, famine, and disease strike without warning and wreak destruction on the world of men. But they, save for a few, remain oblivious to the Creator's true cruelty.
There is a fifth instrument of judgement. Consciousness.
The pains inflicted on mankind by the four horsemen are magnified by their awareness of the inevitability of those pains and their ultimate powerlessness to ever defend against them.
Nature, at once engaged in eternal struggle against the void, but oblivious to it, bored god. Once created it sought no refuge in his grace, it merely existed - afflicted by mortality but unaware of it.
So god created the fifth instrument and imbued nature with it, forging fear in the fires of conscious thought and driving his creation to seek him, to worship him, to beg his mercy.
Why, one might ask, would god torment that which he wrought? Is god evil? No. The answer lies in imagining that which is unimaginable: existence in absolute isolation, a oneness so complete as to be horrifying. Unable to die and unable to unmake himself and escape the prison of existence god created beings from the fabric of his Divinity, separate from himself and desiring unity with him. Giving his existence some semblance of a purpose.
He created man and placed in his soul fear of the unknown and created beings to seek him out and he basked in the worship of his creation. The four horsemen are simply tools to in the hands of the fifth, whose sole purpose is to remind mortals of death, of the void, thereby fulfilling god's need for adulation, worship, and pleas for mercy from creatures made aware of their condition and the inevitability of the all-consuming void from which he alone is immune.
(Note: I may flesh this out at some point, this is essentially just a general idea. The fifth horseman being consciousness. Honestly, it sounded better in my head, but I'm writing this in a doctor's office and my phone is nearly dead.) | |
[WP] The four horsemen: Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death are the harbingers of the apocalypse, serving forth chaos and destruction on all humanity. The Bible forgot to mention the fifth horseman: Kyle, whom the other four can't seem to ditch. | "Ugh..." Death moans, "Kyle is still following us."
"And will continue to until we starve him of attention." noted Famine.
"I don't understand why Death hasn't just killed him," complained Pestilence.
"It doesn't work that way...," Death said shamefully.
"Even if he could it would not be right," claimed War, " you know he's... 'Special'."
As the four horsemen stood around, Kyle had gone off distracted by a butterfly.
"Great now he's wondering off again," Famine noticed.
"Alright who's turn is it this time?" Death sighed.
"No no no, guys this is good thing," Pestilence said excited.
"How is this a good thing? You know God will have our heads, literally, if we lose him!" War exclaimed.
"OK, if Kyle's so important then what's his purpose? Name one good thing he has done for us." Pestilence replied.
"Honestly I couldn't care less about him..." Death grumbled.
"That's not the point, he's one us after all!" War shouted.
Excited by what he just heard Kyle came scrambling over to the Horsemen.
"Am eh owne of hue now?" Kyle asked, slobber dripping from his mouth.
"Yes Kyle you are on of us now," replied War. | Kyle the rider of inconvenience. After all the plagues, wars, famines, death and pestilence that is brought out by the other 4 horsemen, Kyle comes in and through the underrated power of inconvenience causes Hitler to drops his keys which in turn prevents Hitler those few seconds from being able to get out of his bunker during the invasion of Berlin causeing him to take his own life. Thus the horsemen of war gets really annoyed at Kyle because he had a greater plan for Hitler to carry out further destruction. Damn it Kyle said War. While all the other horsemen just rode away with their hand on their face.
| |
[WP] The four horsemen: Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death are the harbingers of the apocalypse, serving forth chaos and destruction on all humanity. The Bible forgot to mention the fifth horseman: Kyle, whom the other four can't seem to ditch. | Famine, ever the outgoing personality that he is, reached out to grip his hand, in a firm, but meaningful, welcome to the astral planes.
"Oooh yeah, good to meet you boys, I could go for some Doritos."
This was absolutely not the reaction to which we were accustomed. Typically, immediate withering and death would occur. That would be a normal scenario. However, our new friend Kyle seemed somewhat unperturbed by the situation around him. Before we could notice what happened... our fellow rider Famine had been vanquished.
"Pestilence, you're up," I muttered, as Kyle pushed forth with his cadre of angels.
"Yes, this one will be mine," he recited in guttural tones, casual yet as foreboding as one could imagine.
Kyle, greeted by Pestilence, brandished a bizarre phallic instrument that seemed to dismiss any sort of..."greeting" that Pestilence sought to deliver. As quickly as the exchange had started, it was over.
"And aloha to you as well, my newly acquainted friend!" Kyle proclaimed, as he snapped a picture over his corpse.
What in the actual fuck. Who was this individual, in a floral print t-shirt, taking pictures of the reapers of the apocalypse? There was only one thing left to do. To give him my salutations, something that would end this and bring us back to normalcy. With everything upended, and only me to address our interloper in our most *considerate* of manners, I proceeded.
"Greetings," I uttered, grimacing with a candor that was uncertain of whose judgment this was exactly.
"Hello!" Kyle replied, with an unfitting exuberance that now commanded the attention of everything in the room. "I've heard SO much about you all."
I approached. I had seen so many fall before me, and Kyle should be no different. As I extended my hand in salutations I noticed him carving strange glyphs in the ground.
E-L-B
No matter. I went forth, thrusting my most effective "greeting" in his direction. "Come," I said, inviting him to his pernicious demise.
*you hear the howling of the CwnAnnwn*
"This couldn't be!" I exclaimed, watching from what was now a distance too far to ever meet Kyle again. I watched as he donned a new helmet, despite the actual denizens of hell striking him with unholy might repeatedly. He took another picture with the camera dangling from his neck, despite the denizens of hell striking him with unholy might repeatedly. He gave a salute, and exclaimed, "THIS WAS THE EASIEST ONE YET," then proceeded to vanish into thin air.
And there was no mistaking it. That was someone that, despite the name he used, was our brother who strode through the astral planes and wrought only murder.
Kyle was War. | Kyle the rider of inconvenience. After all the plagues, wars, famines, death and pestilence that is brought out by the other 4 horsemen, Kyle comes in and through the underrated power of inconvenience causes Hitler to drops his keys which in turn prevents Hitler those few seconds from being able to get out of his bunker during the invasion of Berlin causeing him to take his own life. Thus the horsemen of war gets really annoyed at Kyle because he had a greater plan for Hitler to carry out further destruction. Damn it Kyle said War. While all the other horsemen just rode away with their hand on their face.
| |
[WP] The four horsemen: Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death are the harbingers of the apocalypse, serving forth chaos and destruction on all humanity. The Bible forgot to mention the fifth horseman: Kyle, whom the other four can't seem to ditch. | It was the end times. The last days of humanity. The Four Horsemen had broken the seventh seal and were now loosed upon the world.
For Death it was a Tuesday.
He sat upon his bone steed looking out over the ravaged landscape. A few pockets of humanity still clung on, but they were a dying breed.
Almost.
Some glimmer of hope, some shred of humility still remain in their mortal shells. His brothers did not know what they still clawed at life, but Death knew. He had always knew.
"We should ride down there and finish them off and be done with this." War grumbled. His arms flexing, waiting to kill. Maim. Destroy.
"Patience my dear brother. Their time will soon come." Pestilence hissed over pox marked lips. His voice was barely above a whisper.
"But I, like War, desire this to be over." Famine croaked thru his dry cracked throat, "I thirst for it to be done."
"Silence. It will be done when its done. We are immortal time does not effect us as it does them." Death commanded his brother. His voice was a rich baritone which commanded the respect of his brothers.
"HEY!!! HEY!!!! WAIT UP FOR ME!!!!!!" a child like called from behind them.
"Oh for the love of father...." War dropped his head to he chest.
Pestilence shivered in disgust, "Please not him."
Famine actual looked like he was gagging on some thing.
Only Death stood straight and tall in his saddle. "Hello Kyle."
"Why do we put up with this...this...abomination?" War whispered thru clenched teeth.
Death whirl his head around to look and War, flames wreathed his skeleton eyes, "Because he is our brother. Family. And while we may not wish him to be here, he is. Now still your tongue lest I remove it from your head."
War and Death stared at each other till Kyle rode up to them. War tore his gaze away from his brother. If Death had lips when would have given a slight grin. No one could stare down Death.
"Sorry I am late brothers, my ponies legs are short. Its tough for me to keep up with you." Kyle said with his little child like voice.
War huffed a response that got Pestilence to chuckle. Death sighed at Kyle, "Its fine brother. We are just about to finish off the last of the human."
Kyle scrunched his ten year old looking eyes at the valley below them. "Maybe we should leave them alone. It will be a hundred centuries before they rebuild back to where they were."
"WHAT?!?!?!" War exploded it outrage. Kyle slumped a little bit in his saddle and pinched his eyes shut.
"YOU HAVE GOT BE KIDDING ME WITH THIS! THIS IS OUR JOB!!! WHAT WE WERE CREATED TO DO!" War was shaking with rage now. The muscles were taunt with pent up energy. He jumped down from his horse was stalked to over to Kyle, who look every bit like a freighted ten year old.
"Watch your tone brother." Death said thru clenched teeth.
"Shut up. Your defended this little monster every time he thwarts our plans..."
"YOUR plans. Not father's plans." Death corrected him.
"OUR plans! How many wars did I start? Hundreds? Thousands? Untold killed! By Lucifer hair backside I started TWO world wars! Be he stopped them. Stopped all of them! Pestilence tried with the Black Death. He stopped it. Famine tried, how many times was it?" War shouted at Death.
"Too many. I gave up after that potato one." Famine sighed.
"But father did not want that, it wasn't part of his plan for humanity." Kyle said is quiet voice still looking at the ground.
"And you Death, you reaped ALL the death that WE caused!" War said with a finger pointing him.
Death said nothing. His fingers were gripped tightly around his reins.
"Please War, brother, we are family. We should get along and fall pray to these...." Kyle was saying as he dismounted from his pony. Suddenly War bellowed a inhumane war cry, they cry that would shatter mountains and rally the troops to battle, a swung his fist at Kyle.
It was so fast, not even Death could stop it. The impact shock cratered the landscape round them. Once the wind died down and the other horsemen could look, War was standing there, mouth agape, at Kyle.
Kyle stopped the personification of war and strength with his hand effortlessly. He began to squeeze Wars hand. Since the dawn of the universe, War let out a gasp of pain and went to one knee.
"Are you done?" Kyle asked.
"I will slaughter you for this." War said thru pain clenched lips. Kyle tightened his grip which caused another yelp of pain from War.
"ARE. YOU. DONE?" Kyle asked. Gone was little child's voice, but now a thousand deep voices echo in there heads.
"Yes" War said quietly.
Kyle let him go. "You have all, ALL, have run rampant over father's creation for too long. He had a plan and you kept screwing it up. So he need to called down the apocalypse to start over again. But I told him if there was a chance that humanity could be saved, put back on the plan, should we take it. Thank the Heavens that he agreed. So I had to come stop you."
"And why, then you who are the fifth horsemen stop us? You should be joining us!" Pestilence said.
"You never asked me want my title was. What Horseman am I?" Kyle said, back to his ten year old self.
The other horsemen looked sheepishly at each other and the ground.
"I am the Horseman of Mercy." Kyle said with a broad smile on his face.
Death could only shake his head and whisper, "Lord have mercy."
"I heard that!!!!" Kyle said.
Please be gentle. This the first thing I have ever written so be a little kind :)
EDIT sorry about the spelling/grammatical errors. Just got home from work. 😁 | The beginning of ends is always denial. People ignoring problems and pretending nothing bad will happen is the first step. In this case, it was a denial of food. A disease spread across all crops. It wiped out 90% of food sources. No one knows much about the virus, or it's origin, but it turned all crops black.
This led, as it always does, to anger. A massive amount of anger world-wide. Everyone was only seeing red. Whenever a lack of resources comes, so too does fighting for survival. People tried to keep the peace, but there just wasn't enough food for there to be peace. Wars broke out for survival.
Several scientists started noticing a pattern, and wanted to fight off the death of the world. They wanted to try finding a way to instead end the disease. They figured the only way to end the bloodshed was to unite to fight the disease. They created a new set of crops that were supposedly nearly as healthy as all other foods. In haste, they proclaimed their victory and gave their food to everyone. But all was not well. While the food was nutritious, it lacked one ingredient that was unknown and necessary for survival. This supposedly purely white food lead to pestilence everywhere.
Because of this, most of society felt there was nothing left to do. The human race doesn't matter any more, the world doesn't matter any more, nothing matters anymore. Long ago the nuclear wars blocked out the sun. No one cared, and everyone was pale, rakishly thin, and just a paper cut away from turning into ashes.
This was all before the end. The Denial of Food, the Anger of Wars, the Bargaining of Scientists, and the World Wide Depression. There wasn't much left. What was left, though, was a valley. The people in the valley had traveled the world and felt all four of these. They had understood and accepted the fate, and now desired to live life as well as they could. This valley had escaped the nuclear bombs, because the mountains around it protected it. Some people have just stumbled upon it, and were confused how it could still exist. They then learned to love this place. Sure, death was around them all the time, and they had to avoid eating all things white, but they grew, and they flourished. They've accepted their fate, and have learned to just do the best they can. Legend has it that the first man to discover this Eden was named Kyle. A normal bloke who was really chipper before the world decided it was time for a reset button. | |
[WP] The four horsemen: Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death are the harbingers of the apocalypse, serving forth chaos and destruction on all humanity. The Bible forgot to mention the fifth horseman: Kyle, whom the other four can't seem to ditch. | "It is time, brothers. The Apocalypse has at last been called down upon the great cesspool of humanity. Let us cleanse this world of their filth!" Death's horse reared impressively and he looked ready to continue his tirade when a small voice made itself heard.
"Yeah. Death to the humans!" Kyle interceded himself between Death and the other horsemen, "But couldn't we stop for, like, a Chai Latte first?" There was an uncertain pause as the horsemen stared at their brother with what could only be called confusion. "I mean," Kyle continued, "it seems to me that we won't be able to get this sort of stuff after the whole 'Death to Humanity' thing."
"We shall cause their Chai Latte's to crumble where they lie." Famine hissed, his eyes flaring with disgust as he looked over the troublesome horseman.
"Of course, of course." Kyle said easily, "But you're Famine. You're supposed to say stuff like that." He turned to the other horsemen, "What about the rest of you? You guys can appreciate what I'm talking about."
"Enough of this!" War roared, unsuccessful trying to push past Kyle's horse, "The Apocalypse is now. We shall not be withheld any longer by your foolishness."
Kyle looked almost affronted, "Withheld from the Apocalypse? By me? I just want to make sure we all know what we're doing."
"And we do." Pestilence hissed, "So stand aside. It is time for us to ride."
The terrible sigh of Death cut through the conversation of the other four. "It's too late." he said in a voice that was nothing but contempt.
"What do you mean?" War asked, echoed by Famine and Pestilence.
"It's over." Death pointed at the mortal realm they stood poised to enter, "We missed it."
The horsemen between themselves, shocked. All except Kyle who put on a bright smile. "Yay!" he said, "Chai Lattes forever!" | The beginning of ends is always denial. People ignoring problems and pretending nothing bad will happen is the first step. In this case, it was a denial of food. A disease spread across all crops. It wiped out 90% of food sources. No one knows much about the virus, or it's origin, but it turned all crops black.
This led, as it always does, to anger. A massive amount of anger world-wide. Everyone was only seeing red. Whenever a lack of resources comes, so too does fighting for survival. People tried to keep the peace, but there just wasn't enough food for there to be peace. Wars broke out for survival.
Several scientists started noticing a pattern, and wanted to fight off the death of the world. They wanted to try finding a way to instead end the disease. They figured the only way to end the bloodshed was to unite to fight the disease. They created a new set of crops that were supposedly nearly as healthy as all other foods. In haste, they proclaimed their victory and gave their food to everyone. But all was not well. While the food was nutritious, it lacked one ingredient that was unknown and necessary for survival. This supposedly purely white food lead to pestilence everywhere.
Because of this, most of society felt there was nothing left to do. The human race doesn't matter any more, the world doesn't matter any more, nothing matters anymore. Long ago the nuclear wars blocked out the sun. No one cared, and everyone was pale, rakishly thin, and just a paper cut away from turning into ashes.
This was all before the end. The Denial of Food, the Anger of Wars, the Bargaining of Scientists, and the World Wide Depression. There wasn't much left. What was left, though, was a valley. The people in the valley had traveled the world and felt all four of these. They had understood and accepted the fate, and now desired to live life as well as they could. This valley had escaped the nuclear bombs, because the mountains around it protected it. Some people have just stumbled upon it, and were confused how it could still exist. They then learned to love this place. Sure, death was around them all the time, and they had to avoid eating all things white, but they grew, and they flourished. They've accepted their fate, and have learned to just do the best they can. Legend has it that the first man to discover this Eden was named Kyle. A normal bloke who was really chipper before the world decided it was time for a reset button. | |
[WP] The four horsemen: Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death are the harbingers of the apocalypse, serving forth chaos and destruction on all humanity. The Bible forgot to mention the fifth horseman: Kyle, whom the other four can't seem to ditch. | Famine, ever the outgoing personality that he is, reached out to grip his hand, in a firm, but meaningful, welcome to the astral planes.
"Oooh yeah, good to meet you boys, I could go for some Doritos."
This was absolutely not the reaction to which we were accustomed. Typically, immediate withering and death would occur. That would be a normal scenario. However, our new friend Kyle seemed somewhat unperturbed by the situation around him. Before we could notice what happened... our fellow rider Famine had been vanquished.
"Pestilence, you're up," I muttered, as Kyle pushed forth with his cadre of angels.
"Yes, this one will be mine," he recited in guttural tones, casual yet as foreboding as one could imagine.
Kyle, greeted by Pestilence, brandished a bizarre phallic instrument that seemed to dismiss any sort of..."greeting" that Pestilence sought to deliver. As quickly as the exchange had started, it was over.
"And aloha to you as well, my newly acquainted friend!" Kyle proclaimed, as he snapped a picture over his corpse.
What in the actual fuck. Who was this individual, in a floral print t-shirt, taking pictures of the reapers of the apocalypse? There was only one thing left to do. To give him my salutations, something that would end this and bring us back to normalcy. With everything upended, and only me to address our interloper in our most *considerate* of manners, I proceeded.
"Greetings," I uttered, grimacing with a candor that was uncertain of whose judgment this was exactly.
"Hello!" Kyle replied, with an unfitting exuberance that now commanded the attention of everything in the room. "I've heard SO much about you all."
I approached. I had seen so many fall before me, and Kyle should be no different. As I extended my hand in salutations I noticed him carving strange glyphs in the ground.
E-L-B
No matter. I went forth, thrusting my most effective "greeting" in his direction. "Come," I said, inviting him to his pernicious demise.
*you hear the howling of the CwnAnnwn*
"This couldn't be!" I exclaimed, watching from what was now a distance too far to ever meet Kyle again. I watched as he donned a new helmet, despite the actual denizens of hell striking him with unholy might repeatedly. He took another picture with the camera dangling from his neck, despite the denizens of hell striking him with unholy might repeatedly. He gave a salute, and exclaimed, "THIS WAS THE EASIEST ONE YET," then proceeded to vanish into thin air.
And there was no mistaking it. That was someone that, despite the name he used, was our brother who strode through the astral planes and wrought only murder.
Kyle was War. | The beginning of ends is always denial. People ignoring problems and pretending nothing bad will happen is the first step. In this case, it was a denial of food. A disease spread across all crops. It wiped out 90% of food sources. No one knows much about the virus, or it's origin, but it turned all crops black.
This led, as it always does, to anger. A massive amount of anger world-wide. Everyone was only seeing red. Whenever a lack of resources comes, so too does fighting for survival. People tried to keep the peace, but there just wasn't enough food for there to be peace. Wars broke out for survival.
Several scientists started noticing a pattern, and wanted to fight off the death of the world. They wanted to try finding a way to instead end the disease. They figured the only way to end the bloodshed was to unite to fight the disease. They created a new set of crops that were supposedly nearly as healthy as all other foods. In haste, they proclaimed their victory and gave their food to everyone. But all was not well. While the food was nutritious, it lacked one ingredient that was unknown and necessary for survival. This supposedly purely white food lead to pestilence everywhere.
Because of this, most of society felt there was nothing left to do. The human race doesn't matter any more, the world doesn't matter any more, nothing matters anymore. Long ago the nuclear wars blocked out the sun. No one cared, and everyone was pale, rakishly thin, and just a paper cut away from turning into ashes.
This was all before the end. The Denial of Food, the Anger of Wars, the Bargaining of Scientists, and the World Wide Depression. There wasn't much left. What was left, though, was a valley. The people in the valley had traveled the world and felt all four of these. They had understood and accepted the fate, and now desired to live life as well as they could. This valley had escaped the nuclear bombs, because the mountains around it protected it. Some people have just stumbled upon it, and were confused how it could still exist. They then learned to love this place. Sure, death was around them all the time, and they had to avoid eating all things white, but they grew, and they flourished. They've accepted their fate, and have learned to just do the best they can. Legend has it that the first man to discover this Eden was named Kyle. A normal bloke who was really chipper before the world decided it was time for a reset button. | |
[WP] The four horsemen: Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death are the harbingers of the apocalypse, serving forth chaos and destruction on all humanity. The Bible forgot to mention the fifth horseman: Kyle, whom the other four can't seem to ditch. | Famine, ever the outgoing personality that he is, reached out to grip his hand, in a firm, but meaningful, welcome to the astral planes.
"Oooh yeah, good to meet you boys, I could go for some Doritos."
This was absolutely not the reaction to which we were accustomed. Typically, immediate withering and death would occur. That would be a normal scenario. However, our new friend Kyle seemed somewhat unperturbed by the situation around him. Before we could notice what happened... our fellow rider Famine had been vanquished.
"Pestilence, you're up," I muttered, as Kyle pushed forth with his cadre of angels.
"Yes, this one will be mine," he recited in guttural tones, casual yet as foreboding as one could imagine.
Kyle, greeted by Pestilence, brandished a bizarre phallic instrument that seemed to dismiss any sort of..."greeting" that Pestilence sought to deliver. As quickly as the exchange had started, it was over.
"And aloha to you as well, my newly acquainted friend!" Kyle proclaimed, as he snapped a picture over his corpse.
What in the actual fuck. Who was this individual, in a floral print t-shirt, taking pictures of the reapers of the apocalypse? There was only one thing left to do. To give him my salutations, something that would end this and bring us back to normalcy. With everything upended, and only me to address our interloper in our most *considerate* of manners, I proceeded.
"Greetings," I uttered, grimacing with a candor that was uncertain of whose judgment this was exactly.
"Hello!" Kyle replied, with an unfitting exuberance that now commanded the attention of everything in the room. "I've heard SO much about you all."
I approached. I had seen so many fall before me, and Kyle should be no different. As I extended my hand in salutations I noticed him carving strange glyphs in the ground.
E-L-B
No matter. I went forth, thrusting my most effective "greeting" in his direction. "Come," I said, inviting him to his pernicious demise.
*you hear the howling of the CwnAnnwn*
"This couldn't be!" I exclaimed, watching from what was now a distance too far to ever meet Kyle again. I watched as he donned a new helmet, despite the actual denizens of hell striking him with unholy might repeatedly. He took another picture with the camera dangling from his neck, despite the denizens of hell striking him with unholy might repeatedly. He gave a salute, and exclaimed, "THIS WAS THE EASIEST ONE YET," then proceeded to vanish into thin air.
And there was no mistaking it. That was someone that, despite the name he used, was our brother who strode through the astral planes and wrought only murder.
Kyle was War. | It was the end times. The last days of humanity. The Four Horsemen had broken the seventh seal and were now loosed upon the world.
For Death it was a Tuesday.
He sat upon his bone steed looking out over the ravaged landscape. A few pockets of humanity still clung on, but they were a dying breed.
Almost.
Some glimmer of hope, some shred of humility still remain in their mortal shells. His brothers did not know what they still clawed at life, but Death knew. He had always knew.
"We should ride down there and finish them off and be done with this." War grumbled. His arms flexing, waiting to kill. Maim. Destroy.
"Patience my dear brother. Their time will soon come." Pestilence hissed over pox marked lips. His voice was barely above a whisper.
"But I, like War, desire this to be over." Famine croaked thru his dry cracked throat, "I thirst for it to be done."
"Silence. It will be done when its done. We are immortal time does not effect us as it does them." Death commanded his brother. His voice was a rich baritone which commanded the respect of his brothers.
"HEY!!! HEY!!!! WAIT UP FOR ME!!!!!!" a child like called from behind them.
"Oh for the love of father...." War dropped his head to he chest.
Pestilence shivered in disgust, "Please not him."
Famine actual looked like he was gagging on some thing.
Only Death stood straight and tall in his saddle. "Hello Kyle."
"Why do we put up with this...this...abomination?" War whispered thru clenched teeth.
Death whirl his head around to look and War, flames wreathed his skeleton eyes, "Because he is our brother. Family. And while we may not wish him to be here, he is. Now still your tongue lest I remove it from your head."
War and Death stared at each other till Kyle rode up to them. War tore his gaze away from his brother. If Death had lips when would have given a slight grin. No one could stare down Death.
"Sorry I am late brothers, my ponies legs are short. Its tough for me to keep up with you." Kyle said with his little child like voice.
War huffed a response that got Pestilence to chuckle. Death sighed at Kyle, "Its fine brother. We are just about to finish off the last of the human."
Kyle scrunched his ten year old looking eyes at the valley below them. "Maybe we should leave them alone. It will be a hundred centuries before they rebuild back to where they were."
"WHAT?!?!?!" War exploded it outrage. Kyle slumped a little bit in his saddle and pinched his eyes shut.
"YOU HAVE GOT BE KIDDING ME WITH THIS! THIS IS OUR JOB!!! WHAT WE WERE CREATED TO DO!" War was shaking with rage now. The muscles were taunt with pent up energy. He jumped down from his horse was stalked to over to Kyle, who look every bit like a freighted ten year old.
"Watch your tone brother." Death said thru clenched teeth.
"Shut up. Your defended this little monster every time he thwarts our plans..."
"YOUR plans. Not father's plans." Death corrected him.
"OUR plans! How many wars did I start? Hundreds? Thousands? Untold killed! By Lucifer hair backside I started TWO world wars! Be he stopped them. Stopped all of them! Pestilence tried with the Black Death. He stopped it. Famine tried, how many times was it?" War shouted at Death.
"Too many. I gave up after that potato one." Famine sighed.
"But father did not want that, it wasn't part of his plan for humanity." Kyle said is quiet voice still looking at the ground.
"And you Death, you reaped ALL the death that WE caused!" War said with a finger pointing him.
Death said nothing. His fingers were gripped tightly around his reins.
"Please War, brother, we are family. We should get along and fall pray to these...." Kyle was saying as he dismounted from his pony. Suddenly War bellowed a inhumane war cry, they cry that would shatter mountains and rally the troops to battle, a swung his fist at Kyle.
It was so fast, not even Death could stop it. The impact shock cratered the landscape round them. Once the wind died down and the other horsemen could look, War was standing there, mouth agape, at Kyle.
Kyle stopped the personification of war and strength with his hand effortlessly. He began to squeeze Wars hand. Since the dawn of the universe, War let out a gasp of pain and went to one knee.
"Are you done?" Kyle asked.
"I will slaughter you for this." War said thru pain clenched lips. Kyle tightened his grip which caused another yelp of pain from War.
"ARE. YOU. DONE?" Kyle asked. Gone was little child's voice, but now a thousand deep voices echo in there heads.
"Yes" War said quietly.
Kyle let him go. "You have all, ALL, have run rampant over father's creation for too long. He had a plan and you kept screwing it up. So he need to called down the apocalypse to start over again. But I told him if there was a chance that humanity could be saved, put back on the plan, should we take it. Thank the Heavens that he agreed. So I had to come stop you."
"And why, then you who are the fifth horsemen stop us? You should be joining us!" Pestilence said.
"You never asked me want my title was. What Horseman am I?" Kyle said, back to his ten year old self.
The other horsemen looked sheepishly at each other and the ground.
"I am the Horseman of Mercy." Kyle said with a broad smile on his face.
Death could only shake his head and whisper, "Lord have mercy."
"I heard that!!!!" Kyle said.
Please be gentle. This the first thing I have ever written so be a little kind :)
EDIT sorry about the spelling/grammatical errors. Just got home from work. 😁 | |
[WP] The four horsemen: Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death are the harbingers of the apocalypse, serving forth chaos and destruction on all humanity. The Bible forgot to mention the fifth horseman: Kyle, whom the other four can't seem to ditch. | Famine, ever the outgoing personality that he is, reached out to grip his hand, in a firm, but meaningful, welcome to the astral planes.
"Oooh yeah, good to meet you boys, I could go for some Doritos."
This was absolutely not the reaction to which we were accustomed. Typically, immediate withering and death would occur. That would be a normal scenario. However, our new friend Kyle seemed somewhat unperturbed by the situation around him. Before we could notice what happened... our fellow rider Famine had been vanquished.
"Pestilence, you're up," I muttered, as Kyle pushed forth with his cadre of angels.
"Yes, this one will be mine," he recited in guttural tones, casual yet as foreboding as one could imagine.
Kyle, greeted by Pestilence, brandished a bizarre phallic instrument that seemed to dismiss any sort of..."greeting" that Pestilence sought to deliver. As quickly as the exchange had started, it was over.
"And aloha to you as well, my newly acquainted friend!" Kyle proclaimed, as he snapped a picture over his corpse.
What in the actual fuck. Who was this individual, in a floral print t-shirt, taking pictures of the reapers of the apocalypse? There was only one thing left to do. To give him my salutations, something that would end this and bring us back to normalcy. With everything upended, and only me to address our interloper in our most *considerate* of manners, I proceeded.
"Greetings," I uttered, grimacing with a candor that was uncertain of whose judgment this was exactly.
"Hello!" Kyle replied, with an unfitting exuberance that now commanded the attention of everything in the room. "I've heard SO much about you all."
I approached. I had seen so many fall before me, and Kyle should be no different. As I extended my hand in salutations I noticed him carving strange glyphs in the ground.
E-L-B
No matter. I went forth, thrusting my most effective "greeting" in his direction. "Come," I said, inviting him to his pernicious demise.
*you hear the howling of the CwnAnnwn*
"This couldn't be!" I exclaimed, watching from what was now a distance too far to ever meet Kyle again. I watched as he donned a new helmet, despite the actual denizens of hell striking him with unholy might repeatedly. He took another picture with the camera dangling from his neck, despite the denizens of hell striking him with unholy might repeatedly. He gave a salute, and exclaimed, "THIS WAS THE EASIEST ONE YET," then proceeded to vanish into thin air.
And there was no mistaking it. That was someone that, despite the name he used, was our brother who strode through the astral planes and wrought only murder.
Kyle was War. | "It is time, brothers. The Apocalypse has at last been called down upon the great cesspool of humanity. Let us cleanse this world of their filth!" Death's horse reared impressively and he looked ready to continue his tirade when a small voice made itself heard.
"Yeah. Death to the humans!" Kyle interceded himself between Death and the other horsemen, "But couldn't we stop for, like, a Chai Latte first?" There was an uncertain pause as the horsemen stared at their brother with what could only be called confusion. "I mean," Kyle continued, "it seems to me that we won't be able to get this sort of stuff after the whole 'Death to Humanity' thing."
"We shall cause their Chai Latte's to crumble where they lie." Famine hissed, his eyes flaring with disgust as he looked over the troublesome horseman.
"Of course, of course." Kyle said easily, "But you're Famine. You're supposed to say stuff like that." He turned to the other horsemen, "What about the rest of you? You guys can appreciate what I'm talking about."
"Enough of this!" War roared, unsuccessful trying to push past Kyle's horse, "The Apocalypse is now. We shall not be withheld any longer by your foolishness."
Kyle looked almost affronted, "Withheld from the Apocalypse? By me? I just want to make sure we all know what we're doing."
"And we do." Pestilence hissed, "So stand aside. It is time for us to ride."
The terrible sigh of Death cut through the conversation of the other four. "It's too late." he said in a voice that was nothing but contempt.
"What do you mean?" War asked, echoed by Famine and Pestilence.
"It's over." Death pointed at the mortal realm they stood poised to enter, "We missed it."
The horsemen between themselves, shocked. All except Kyle who put on a bright smile. "Yay!" he said, "Chai Lattes forever!" | |
[WP] The four horsemen: Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death are the harbingers of the apocalypse, serving forth chaos and destruction on all humanity. The Bible forgot to mention the fifth horseman: Kyle, whom the other four can't seem to ditch. | Fucking Kyle.
Kyle the Unbeliever.
Kyle, the Horsemen of all Horsemen. He just wouldn’t go away. And he was always screwing shit up.
When Famine simply wanted to dry up a river, he said “Well, maybe that’s going a bit too far. Look, they’re already doing it to themselves. They don’t need your help.”
And they were. Famine watched from her cloud as the humans painstakingly built a dam upriver and starved out all an entire country that was fine before the dam was built. Thousands starved to death.
“See, you didn’t have to do anything, Fam. The humans will do to themselves.”
She fumed. She never got her chance to demonstrate the cost of godlessness directly, and the people went on thinking they were gods of the land, even as they killed themselves.
Fucking Kyle.
When Pestilence wanted to unleash an epidemic of disease, he shook his head. “Nah, Pest, they’ll do it to themselves! Watch!” And they did. They neglected their poor, and weak, and allowed themselves to live in squalor. They neglected their food animals, and allowed them to wallow in filth as well. Because it was easy. Because it was cheap. And out of that toxic stew of filth, and squalor, came a pestilence that killed over a million people over a few short weeks. All without pestilence lifting a finger.
Once again, the Horsemen had done nothing. All because of Kyle. Once again, the humans blamed themselves, and never thought of the Horsemen. Or the Apocalypse. Or of the Wrath of God.
Fucking Kyle.
When War and Death teamed up to avoid Kyle, they knew they were about to get some shit done. The humans were already pointing nuclear bombs at each other. It would simply take a push in the right direction. Perhaps the sign from one of the horsemen?
As Death and War saddled up their mighty steeds, and prepared to ride in different directions to instigate a conflict, once again, Kyle showed up.
“Where ya going, fellow horsemen?” Kyle didn’t ride, ever. He just sat on his cloud, smoked weed all day, and waxed poetic about how useless the bible was to anyone anymore. How the times had changed. How nobody cared about horsemen. Why? Because the world had been filled with famine, war, pestilence, and death since the advent of life.
Kyle was the worst horseman ever. Kyle was an atheist. Which was a little confusing. But he said he didn’t believe in things like punishing nonbelief with the lords cleaning, holy fire.
“We’re going to bring about the apocalypse, Kyle. These people have forgotten us. Look!” And as they looked down from their mighty place in the clouds, they saw the warships, and the guns, and the tanks. They saw every manner of every forbidden sin that God had ever spoken of, and more.
Kyle shook his head. “They’re just doing what you tell them to do. All the time.”
By this time, Famine and Pestilence had arrived.
“What do you mean, Kyle?” Pestilence asked, though not in earnest. He always had a reason why they should sit back and do nothing while humans pretended like they didn’t exist. Finally, it had come. The time of conflict. And the Horsemen had had just about enough of Kyle’s interference. They were going to ride with or without him.
“Look.” Kyle said, as he enjoyed a stick of Pocky. He offered a piece to Famine, who declined in disgust.
“You guys are on every T.V., all the time. You’re on every phone. Every screen. In the forefront of every mind. You’re changing the way people live. You’re constant. You are at work 24-hours a day down there. You don’t need to do anything. Down there, you are like Gods already.”
And the Horsemen looked down upon the people and knew what Kyle said was true. Every day, all the time, the people saw war, and famine, and death, and sickness. Perhaps it wasn’t their own, but they saw it on the other side of the world, and felt it close to their hearts even if they didn’t realize it. And so…the people grieved. And slowly they changed. They didn’t ever see, or hear anything good about the world. Pretty soon many gave up on the idea of everyday good.
Just like the horsemen.
They didn’t see anyone praying for the health and well-being of their fellow man. Or even just wishing for it. They didn’t see anyone working to clean the pollution of the world. Or those protecting animals from extinction. Or those trying to understand the cause and effect of humans interacting with the world. They didn’t hear the small, passive voices, drowned out by their screaming 24-hour doomsayer counterparts.
The world wasn’t falling apart everywhere. Even though the horsemen were a part of the lives of everyday people already, there were also people like Kyle. People who answered Famine with charity, death with Empathy, Pestilence with Care, and War with Peace.
People like Kyle, always screwing up the game.
| The siren's blared across the city, drowning out the sounds of screams and panic. Almost overnight this once peaceful city, this beacon of humanity's glory, had collapsed into a chaotic hellscape. Water turned sour and food rotted as it was consumed. Anger and violence consumed everyone as they tore into each other in a blind rage. Creatures which would shy away from the night now enveloped the streets and basked in the perpetual darkness. Flies, fleas, millipedes and centipedes ruptured out of boils and blisters as humanity collapsed in pain and disease. Amidst the chaos random toilets would back up slightly, _just_ enough to cause a small panic you were at a friend's house or some other social gathering.
Off in the distance four shadows mounted on horseback looked upon the chaos. Further in the distance still, a smaller, slightly more rotund shadow scrambled up towards them. Upon their meeting, the four shadows darted off as soon as they had appeared. The fifth shadow seemed to linger awkwardly over the scene, looking down at the chaos left behind in admiration before it too vanished, enveloped in darkness.
The four figures appeared again overlooking a battlefield. On this night, two allies would be going to war. Years of peace and cooperation would end in mere moments. Father and son would charge at each other, willing to take their lives for a reason neither could remember. Families were split and lines were drawn, the only recourse left was to ensure that only one side survived. There was no chance for peace, no sign of armistice, there would only be war. And in the quiet before the battle, in those tense moments before the first shot would be fired, men in the barracks were having trouble with their uniforms. Clothing would shift and strain as it was placed upon their flesh. It seems every soldier would find that their uniforms were half a size too small; they still fit, but it was slightly uncomfortable and it made some of them self conscious.
The four shadows looked at each other in confusion. Once again in the far distance a smaller, more rotund, and seemingly out of breath shadow made its way towards the four figures. The fifth shadow stood alongside their steeds gestured over the battlefield, specifically in the direction of the slightly uncomfortable soldiers. The fifth shadow place its hands on its hips in what could only be described as an over eager victory pose. The other four shadows stared blankly at the distance before riding off and melting back into the darkness.
In another part of the world, a small village which had never known need or want would find their quiet days about to end. The four shadows once again materialized in the distance, and a sickly figure among them stepped forward. Of the four shadows, this one stood thinner than the others as the stench of rot enveloped it. The sickly figure extended a frail hand over the village and waited. The ground became salted, crops slowly began to rot, and the meat on which the village was about to feast upon suddenly erupted with maggots and bot flies. The villagers stood back in shock, trying to make sense of the chaos that was encroaching. As their food and water began to decay a single, healthy, apple tree manifested itself in the middle of the village.
The sickly shadow paused for a moment and looked at its frail hand in confusion. Suddenly it heard the all too familiar shuffle of a slightly more rotund, probably out of breath, and probably sweaty figure. Back down in the village the people ran towards the tree and rejoiced, thankful that they were blessed with fruit. But as they reached close to the branches the fruit would fall, and in their attempt to pick the fruit from the ground they found that it would always roll out of reach. It took them slightly longer than it would have been reasonable to finally pick up the fruit, adding a degree of mild annoyance to the air of decay that was already permeating the village.
Of the now five shadows, the slightly more rotund, definitely out of breath, and unmistakably sweaty figure let out a maniacal laugh. The other four turned their gaze upon it, and slowly turned towards to distance with what could only be assumed was a blank stare. While no mortal could even begin to conceive the motivations or actions of these figures, were anyone able to perceive the way in which thee original four shadows carried themselves they could easily mistaken their posture and blank stares for exasperation. After a few moments the sickly figure outstretched its hand towards the fifth and waited a few moments. The fifth figure fell to its knees as the outline of blisters and boils began to erupt from its silhouette, its hands grasping at its throat as its torso heaved and contorted. In an instant the other four figures were gone.
And now the figures stood calmly upon the water amidst a terrible storm. They looked on from the open sea towards a port as violent waves crashed upon the docks, splintering wood and shattering stone. Ships broke apart and capsized, as their contents were swallowed by the violent sea. Further off the coast an oil tanker ruptured spilling its black cargo across the surface, overwhelming all life in the area.
Once again the figures looked upon the destruction showing no sign of emotion. They remained stoic in the wake of the chaos, watching as man's own hubris in control over the sea was ripped away from them. The arrogance of man would be wiped from this place as ships broke and homes fell. And in the surrounding chaos a single, obnoxiously colored jukebox materialized. Within moments the sounds of chaos and screams were drowned out by Tom Jones _What's New Pussy Cat_ blasting on repeat. Several survivors gathered around in confusion, distracted from the fear and terror caused by the construction and finding themselves getting increasingly annoyed that this specific song was playing over and over. The scene was a strange division of chaos, destruction, fear and Tom Jones.
And as the waves crashed and the storm raged, off in the distance it could be said that the sound of crackling thunder echoed the words "WHAT THE FUCK KYLE?!"
| |
[WP] The four horsemen: Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death are the harbingers of the apocalypse, serving forth chaos and destruction on all humanity. The Bible forgot to mention the fifth horseman: Kyle, whom the other four can't seem to ditch. | Famine, ever the outgoing personality that he is, reached out to grip his hand, in a firm, but meaningful, welcome to the astral planes.
"Oooh yeah, good to meet you boys, I could go for some Doritos."
This was absolutely not the reaction to which we were accustomed. Typically, immediate withering and death would occur. That would be a normal scenario. However, our new friend Kyle seemed somewhat unperturbed by the situation around him. Before we could notice what happened... our fellow rider Famine had been vanquished.
"Pestilence, you're up," I muttered, as Kyle pushed forth with his cadre of angels.
"Yes, this one will be mine," he recited in guttural tones, casual yet as foreboding as one could imagine.
Kyle, greeted by Pestilence, brandished a bizarre phallic instrument that seemed to dismiss any sort of..."greeting" that Pestilence sought to deliver. As quickly as the exchange had started, it was over.
"And aloha to you as well, my newly acquainted friend!" Kyle proclaimed, as he snapped a picture over his corpse.
What in the actual fuck. Who was this individual, in a floral print t-shirt, taking pictures of the reapers of the apocalypse? There was only one thing left to do. To give him my salutations, something that would end this and bring us back to normalcy. With everything upended, and only me to address our interloper in our most *considerate* of manners, I proceeded.
"Greetings," I uttered, grimacing with a candor that was uncertain of whose judgment this was exactly.
"Hello!" Kyle replied, with an unfitting exuberance that now commanded the attention of everything in the room. "I've heard SO much about you all."
I approached. I had seen so many fall before me, and Kyle should be no different. As I extended my hand in salutations I noticed him carving strange glyphs in the ground.
E-L-B
No matter. I went forth, thrusting my most effective "greeting" in his direction. "Come," I said, inviting him to his pernicious demise.
*you hear the howling of the CwnAnnwn*
"This couldn't be!" I exclaimed, watching from what was now a distance too far to ever meet Kyle again. I watched as he donned a new helmet, despite the actual denizens of hell striking him with unholy might repeatedly. He took another picture with the camera dangling from his neck, despite the denizens of hell striking him with unholy might repeatedly. He gave a salute, and exclaimed, "THIS WAS THE EASIEST ONE YET," then proceeded to vanish into thin air.
And there was no mistaking it. That was someone that, despite the name he used, was our brother who strode through the astral planes and wrought only murder.
Kyle was War. | The siren's blared across the city, drowning out the sounds of screams and panic. Almost overnight this once peaceful city, this beacon of humanity's glory, had collapsed into a chaotic hellscape. Water turned sour and food rotted as it was consumed. Anger and violence consumed everyone as they tore into each other in a blind rage. Creatures which would shy away from the night now enveloped the streets and basked in the perpetual darkness. Flies, fleas, millipedes and centipedes ruptured out of boils and blisters as humanity collapsed in pain and disease. Amidst the chaos random toilets would back up slightly, _just_ enough to cause a small panic you were at a friend's house or some other social gathering.
Off in the distance four shadows mounted on horseback looked upon the chaos. Further in the distance still, a smaller, slightly more rotund shadow scrambled up towards them. Upon their meeting, the four shadows darted off as soon as they had appeared. The fifth shadow seemed to linger awkwardly over the scene, looking down at the chaos left behind in admiration before it too vanished, enveloped in darkness.
The four figures appeared again overlooking a battlefield. On this night, two allies would be going to war. Years of peace and cooperation would end in mere moments. Father and son would charge at each other, willing to take their lives for a reason neither could remember. Families were split and lines were drawn, the only recourse left was to ensure that only one side survived. There was no chance for peace, no sign of armistice, there would only be war. And in the quiet before the battle, in those tense moments before the first shot would be fired, men in the barracks were having trouble with their uniforms. Clothing would shift and strain as it was placed upon their flesh. It seems every soldier would find that their uniforms were half a size too small; they still fit, but it was slightly uncomfortable and it made some of them self conscious.
The four shadows looked at each other in confusion. Once again in the far distance a smaller, more rotund, and seemingly out of breath shadow made its way towards the four figures. The fifth shadow stood alongside their steeds gestured over the battlefield, specifically in the direction of the slightly uncomfortable soldiers. The fifth shadow place its hands on its hips in what could only be described as an over eager victory pose. The other four shadows stared blankly at the distance before riding off and melting back into the darkness.
In another part of the world, a small village which had never known need or want would find their quiet days about to end. The four shadows once again materialized in the distance, and a sickly figure among them stepped forward. Of the four shadows, this one stood thinner than the others as the stench of rot enveloped it. The sickly figure extended a frail hand over the village and waited. The ground became salted, crops slowly began to rot, and the meat on which the village was about to feast upon suddenly erupted with maggots and bot flies. The villagers stood back in shock, trying to make sense of the chaos that was encroaching. As their food and water began to decay a single, healthy, apple tree manifested itself in the middle of the village.
The sickly shadow paused for a moment and looked at its frail hand in confusion. Suddenly it heard the all too familiar shuffle of a slightly more rotund, probably out of breath, and probably sweaty figure. Back down in the village the people ran towards the tree and rejoiced, thankful that they were blessed with fruit. But as they reached close to the branches the fruit would fall, and in their attempt to pick the fruit from the ground they found that it would always roll out of reach. It took them slightly longer than it would have been reasonable to finally pick up the fruit, adding a degree of mild annoyance to the air of decay that was already permeating the village.
Of the now five shadows, the slightly more rotund, definitely out of breath, and unmistakably sweaty figure let out a maniacal laugh. The other four turned their gaze upon it, and slowly turned towards to distance with what could only be assumed was a blank stare. While no mortal could even begin to conceive the motivations or actions of these figures, were anyone able to perceive the way in which thee original four shadows carried themselves they could easily mistaken their posture and blank stares for exasperation. After a few moments the sickly figure outstretched its hand towards the fifth and waited a few moments. The fifth figure fell to its knees as the outline of blisters and boils began to erupt from its silhouette, its hands grasping at its throat as its torso heaved and contorted. In an instant the other four figures were gone.
And now the figures stood calmly upon the water amidst a terrible storm. They looked on from the open sea towards a port as violent waves crashed upon the docks, splintering wood and shattering stone. Ships broke apart and capsized, as their contents were swallowed by the violent sea. Further off the coast an oil tanker ruptured spilling its black cargo across the surface, overwhelming all life in the area.
Once again the figures looked upon the destruction showing no sign of emotion. They remained stoic in the wake of the chaos, watching as man's own hubris in control over the sea was ripped away from them. The arrogance of man would be wiped from this place as ships broke and homes fell. And in the surrounding chaos a single, obnoxiously colored jukebox materialized. Within moments the sounds of chaos and screams were drowned out by Tom Jones _What's New Pussy Cat_ blasting on repeat. Several survivors gathered around in confusion, distracted from the fear and terror caused by the construction and finding themselves getting increasingly annoyed that this specific song was playing over and over. The scene was a strange division of chaos, destruction, fear and Tom Jones.
And as the waves crashed and the storm raged, off in the distance it could be said that the sound of crackling thunder echoed the words "WHAT THE FUCK KYLE?!"
| |
[WP] The four horsemen: Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death are the harbingers of the apocalypse, serving forth chaos and destruction on all humanity. The Bible forgot to mention the fifth horseman: Kyle, whom the other four can't seem to ditch. | Fucking Kyle.
Kyle the Unbeliever.
Kyle, the Horsemen of all Horsemen. He just wouldn’t go away. And he was always screwing shit up.
When Famine simply wanted to dry up a river, he said “Well, maybe that’s going a bit too far. Look, they’re already doing it to themselves. They don’t need your help.”
And they were. Famine watched from her cloud as the humans painstakingly built a dam upriver and starved out all an entire country that was fine before the dam was built. Thousands starved to death.
“See, you didn’t have to do anything, Fam. The humans will do to themselves.”
She fumed. She never got her chance to demonstrate the cost of godlessness directly, and the people went on thinking they were gods of the land, even as they killed themselves.
Fucking Kyle.
When Pestilence wanted to unleash an epidemic of disease, he shook his head. “Nah, Pest, they’ll do it to themselves! Watch!” And they did. They neglected their poor, and weak, and allowed themselves to live in squalor. They neglected their food animals, and allowed them to wallow in filth as well. Because it was easy. Because it was cheap. And out of that toxic stew of filth, and squalor, came a pestilence that killed over a million people over a few short weeks. All without pestilence lifting a finger.
Once again, the Horsemen had done nothing. All because of Kyle. Once again, the humans blamed themselves, and never thought of the Horsemen. Or the Apocalypse. Or of the Wrath of God.
Fucking Kyle.
When War and Death teamed up to avoid Kyle, they knew they were about to get some shit done. The humans were already pointing nuclear bombs at each other. It would simply take a push in the right direction. Perhaps the sign from one of the horsemen?
As Death and War saddled up their mighty steeds, and prepared to ride in different directions to instigate a conflict, once again, Kyle showed up.
“Where ya going, fellow horsemen?” Kyle didn’t ride, ever. He just sat on his cloud, smoked weed all day, and waxed poetic about how useless the bible was to anyone anymore. How the times had changed. How nobody cared about horsemen. Why? Because the world had been filled with famine, war, pestilence, and death since the advent of life.
Kyle was the worst horseman ever. Kyle was an atheist. Which was a little confusing. But he said he didn’t believe in things like punishing nonbelief with the lords cleaning, holy fire.
“We’re going to bring about the apocalypse, Kyle. These people have forgotten us. Look!” And as they looked down from their mighty place in the clouds, they saw the warships, and the guns, and the tanks. They saw every manner of every forbidden sin that God had ever spoken of, and more.
Kyle shook his head. “They’re just doing what you tell them to do. All the time.”
By this time, Famine and Pestilence had arrived.
“What do you mean, Kyle?” Pestilence asked, though not in earnest. He always had a reason why they should sit back and do nothing while humans pretended like they didn’t exist. Finally, it had come. The time of conflict. And the Horsemen had had just about enough of Kyle’s interference. They were going to ride with or without him.
“Look.” Kyle said, as he enjoyed a stick of Pocky. He offered a piece to Famine, who declined in disgust.
“You guys are on every T.V., all the time. You’re on every phone. Every screen. In the forefront of every mind. You’re changing the way people live. You’re constant. You are at work 24-hours a day down there. You don’t need to do anything. Down there, you are like Gods already.”
And the Horsemen looked down upon the people and knew what Kyle said was true. Every day, all the time, the people saw war, and famine, and death, and sickness. Perhaps it wasn’t their own, but they saw it on the other side of the world, and felt it close to their hearts even if they didn’t realize it. And so…the people grieved. And slowly they changed. They didn’t ever see, or hear anything good about the world. Pretty soon many gave up on the idea of everyday good.
Just like the horsemen.
They didn’t see anyone praying for the health and well-being of their fellow man. Or even just wishing for it. They didn’t see anyone working to clean the pollution of the world. Or those protecting animals from extinction. Or those trying to understand the cause and effect of humans interacting with the world. They didn’t hear the small, passive voices, drowned out by their screaming 24-hour doomsayer counterparts.
The world wasn’t falling apart everywhere. Even though the horsemen were a part of the lives of everyday people already, there were also people like Kyle. People who answered Famine with charity, death with Empathy, Pestilence with Care, and War with Peace.
People like Kyle, always screwing up the game.
| The sun sets, the last lip of the star a dying orange ember, warped and flickering as it sinks below the horizon. In the near dark a billowing cloud grows and becomes a storm wider than an ocean and within it four riders, ragged silhouettes ride red eyed beasts of fury, dragging blood and filth from the freshly opened wounds of the Earth itself. This all consuming tide washes over the world, cleansing it, amidst the howling cries and shrieks of agony light is extinguished and blotted out by wisps of black and entire cities are simply washed away.
The four silhouettes cease, perching over the wastelands they have left behind. An endless black stain. The storm dies down. A keening wind is all that is heard and then a voice, a distant blot of white.
"hey guys wait for me!"
The horsemen gather, circling:" there is nothing leftt to destroy and still he comes".
"another lap of the planet".
"fine".
"Grrrr".
"You've left us nowhere to hide".
Kyle is closing in.
"Run!"
| |
[WP] The four horsemen: Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death are the harbingers of the apocalypse, serving forth chaos and destruction on all humanity. The Bible forgot to mention the fifth horseman: Kyle, whom the other four can't seem to ditch. | Famine, ever the outgoing personality that he is, reached out to grip his hand, in a firm, but meaningful, welcome to the astral planes.
"Oooh yeah, good to meet you boys, I could go for some Doritos."
This was absolutely not the reaction to which we were accustomed. Typically, immediate withering and death would occur. That would be a normal scenario. However, our new friend Kyle seemed somewhat unperturbed by the situation around him. Before we could notice what happened... our fellow rider Famine had been vanquished.
"Pestilence, you're up," I muttered, as Kyle pushed forth with his cadre of angels.
"Yes, this one will be mine," he recited in guttural tones, casual yet as foreboding as one could imagine.
Kyle, greeted by Pestilence, brandished a bizarre phallic instrument that seemed to dismiss any sort of..."greeting" that Pestilence sought to deliver. As quickly as the exchange had started, it was over.
"And aloha to you as well, my newly acquainted friend!" Kyle proclaimed, as he snapped a picture over his corpse.
What in the actual fuck. Who was this individual, in a floral print t-shirt, taking pictures of the reapers of the apocalypse? There was only one thing left to do. To give him my salutations, something that would end this and bring us back to normalcy. With everything upended, and only me to address our interloper in our most *considerate* of manners, I proceeded.
"Greetings," I uttered, grimacing with a candor that was uncertain of whose judgment this was exactly.
"Hello!" Kyle replied, with an unfitting exuberance that now commanded the attention of everything in the room. "I've heard SO much about you all."
I approached. I had seen so many fall before me, and Kyle should be no different. As I extended my hand in salutations I noticed him carving strange glyphs in the ground.
E-L-B
No matter. I went forth, thrusting my most effective "greeting" in his direction. "Come," I said, inviting him to his pernicious demise.
*you hear the howling of the CwnAnnwn*
"This couldn't be!" I exclaimed, watching from what was now a distance too far to ever meet Kyle again. I watched as he donned a new helmet, despite the actual denizens of hell striking him with unholy might repeatedly. He took another picture with the camera dangling from his neck, despite the denizens of hell striking him with unholy might repeatedly. He gave a salute, and exclaimed, "THIS WAS THE EASIEST ONE YET," then proceeded to vanish into thin air.
And there was no mistaking it. That was someone that, despite the name he used, was our brother who strode through the astral planes and wrought only murder.
Kyle was War. | The sun sets, the last lip of the star a dying orange ember, warped and flickering as it sinks below the horizon. In the near dark a billowing cloud grows and becomes a storm wider than an ocean and within it four riders, ragged silhouettes ride red eyed beasts of fury, dragging blood and filth from the freshly opened wounds of the Earth itself. This all consuming tide washes over the world, cleansing it, amidst the howling cries and shrieks of agony light is extinguished and blotted out by wisps of black and entire cities are simply washed away.
The four silhouettes cease, perching over the wastelands they have left behind. An endless black stain. The storm dies down. A keening wind is all that is heard and then a voice, a distant blot of white.
"hey guys wait for me!"
The horsemen gather, circling:" there is nothing leftt to destroy and still he comes".
"another lap of the planet".
"fine".
"Grrrr".
"You've left us nowhere to hide".
Kyle is closing in.
"Run!"
| |
[WP] The four horsemen: Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death are the harbingers of the apocalypse, serving forth chaos and destruction on all humanity. The Bible forgot to mention the fifth horseman: Kyle, whom the other four can't seem to ditch. | His pale horse brayed under him as his brothers approached. It was time for the quarterly report, Death always had a fondness for time and its principles. Perhaps that is why his brothers followed him and why even with all their different natures, his nature prevailed over all.
The first to arrive was the Knight in Shining Armor, the Pestilence of Conquest, the Victor, and the Archer with the Arrows of Plague. His titles were often contradictory as was his attitude. "Death, you look as sickly as Famine!" Pestilence said with his usual jovial demeanor. "I hope your keeping track that I was here first. And just in case you forget," he shot an arrow in the ground, "here is my mark of vicotry!" "Yes, yes brother you are always first and foremost in all you attempt. Now, tell brother Death about your works." Pestilence went on for some time about his temptation of mighty nations and the plagues he had spread with the powerful trade ships and the men in metal hats who ended an entire empire just by breathing. "Very good Archer of Many Arrows, I collected your works and the tally is quite impressive. Your count is actually short. Your reach indeed went beyond your own plans. Come, take your place beside me." Death was pleased with the efforts of his sibling.
"Skeletor, has you know who been around?" Pestilence was also first in his dislike of... Kyle, the rider of the pink horse. Kyle brought misfortune and badluck, but it often interfered with his other brothers machinations. Death knew that souls were souls, but the others never seemed to appreciate meddling in their plans. "No chrome dome, Kyle hasn't arrived yet. Probably fell in a puddle or something." A wicked smirk came across Pestilence face, "You know Barbarossa was my man and I am still peeved at the misfortune sown. What an end to a Crusade, a king drowning in the mud."
Now, out of the distance came the most ferocious and violent of the 5, War Never Ending, the Prince of Blood, Wrath Incarnate, the Rider of the Red Horse and Wielder of the Blood Sword, or Slaughter. "War, I see you are in a mood, what news and report do you bring?" Death saw a shimmer of anger uncommon in War's eye. "Brother Death, I bring tales of blood, death, and murder. But..." teeth grinding to force the words out, "But Kyle has yet again interfered with my games. The most despicable of which was the peace that broke out on a battlefield when some idiot lost his ball in No Man's Land. An entire day of... Peaceeee and other terrible words. A war of global scale and he stopped it with his clumsy attempts. Bah, let me hit him when he arrives." War was fuming and his eyes began to turn a blood red with killer intent. "Warrior of the Slaughter, did not the war continue after? Did millions not get added to my list?" Death hoped the mention of the fallen and bloodied would appease his wild brother. "I suppose... What are you looking at Archer? Without my whispers your conquest and plagues would fall flat." The argument between the two who were closest and at the same time most different in approach let the issue of Kyle pass. Death was pleased to see them forget.
Then came the Accountant of Famine, the Merchant of Hunger, the Weigher of Scales, and the Consumer of Crops. "Hello Brothers," his voice weak and calculated. He spoke in whispers as if every word and syllable was a transaction of importance. "Death, I have come to report that the stocks are high and the food is plenty. But... the mouths are dry and the bellies of the many are empty. The rich grow richer, the poor grow poorer, and the fields grow fallow. Even in times of plenty, they seem times of need." Death measured his tally sheet and saw the causes for which Famine was the source. "Indeed Merchant, you have swindled and stolen many lives with your works." "Robed one, I must also report Kyle, the pink shame, caused many crops to grow over and many scales to malfunction. I don't wish to imply he wants to help the souls, but his actions certainly don't help my cause." It was true, many had found fortune were none should have been due to Kyle's works. The luck of the poor and the misfortune of the rich should be non existent, but the Pink Rider was always getting his own plans jumbled.
And then, came Kyle... Maker of Trouble, Black Cat of the Cosmos, The Breaker of Glass, and He Who Trips. "Hello Brothers!!!" He rode forward to great them, but fell off his horse when he came to a stop. "Kyle, saddle up." Death said with some amusement. He would take Kyle's tally quick, before the other three decided to attack. Death always had a soft spot for Kyle. He kept the Apocalypse a little more interesting, but he would have to talk to him again about "good intentions."
And then a Trumpet sounded, and they went back to their works. Death, smiling his skeletal smile, knew that in time even Kyle would make enough mischief. He just hoped it was the right kind. | The sun sets, the last lip of the star a dying orange ember, warped and flickering as it sinks below the horizon. In the near dark a billowing cloud grows and becomes a storm wider than an ocean and within it four riders, ragged silhouettes ride red eyed beasts of fury, dragging blood and filth from the freshly opened wounds of the Earth itself. This all consuming tide washes over the world, cleansing it, amidst the howling cries and shrieks of agony light is extinguished and blotted out by wisps of black and entire cities are simply washed away.
The four silhouettes cease, perching over the wastelands they have left behind. An endless black stain. The storm dies down. A keening wind is all that is heard and then a voice, a distant blot of white.
"hey guys wait for me!"
The horsemen gather, circling:" there is nothing leftt to destroy and still he comes".
"another lap of the planet".
"fine".
"Grrrr".
"You've left us nowhere to hide".
Kyle is closing in.
"Run!"
| |
[WP] The four horsemen: Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death are the harbingers of the apocalypse, serving forth chaos and destruction on all humanity. The Bible forgot to mention the fifth horseman: Kyle, whom the other four can't seem to ditch. | The White Horse
I watched as the Lamb opened the first of the seven seals. Then I heard one of the five living creatures say in a voice like thunder, “Come and see!” I looked, and there before me was a white horse! Its rider held a bow, and he was given a crown, and he rode out as a conqueror bent on conquest. ( Revelation 6:1-2)
The Red Horse
When the Lamb opened the second seal, I heard the second living creature say, “Come and see!” Then another horse came out, a fiery red one. Its rider was given power to take peace from the earth and to make men slay each other. To him was given a large sword. ( Revelation 6:3-4)
The Black Horse
When the Lamb opened the third seal, I heard the third living creature say, “Come and see!” I looked, and there before me was a black horse! Its rider was holding a pair of scales in his hand. Then I heard what sounded like a voice among the four living creatures, saying, “A quart of wheat for a day’s wages, and three quarts of barley for a day’s wages, and do not damage the oil and the wine!” (Revelation 6:5-6)
The Pale Horse
When the Lamb opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth living creature say, “Come and see!” I looked and there before me was a pale horse! Its rider was named Death, and Hades was following close behind him. They were given power over a fourth of the earth to kill by sword, famine, and plague, and by the wild beasts of the earth. (Revelation 6:7-8)
The *Really* Pale Horse
When the Lamb opened the fifth seal, I heard the voice of the fifth living creature say, "Hey guys wait up!" I looked and there before me was an even paler horse! Its rider was sitting backwards on the horse and holding on for dear life. Then I heard a voice among the other four creatures saying, "Jesus Christ, who told Kyle we were riding out today?" And a voice echoed back from the heavens, "Oh man, sorry guys. I guess he had an alarm set. That seal was supposed to be for the alter of souls. My bad." (Revelation 6:9-11) | The sun sets, the last lip of the star a dying orange ember, warped and flickering as it sinks below the horizon. In the near dark a billowing cloud grows and becomes a storm wider than an ocean and within it four riders, ragged silhouettes ride red eyed beasts of fury, dragging blood and filth from the freshly opened wounds of the Earth itself. This all consuming tide washes over the world, cleansing it, amidst the howling cries and shrieks of agony light is extinguished and blotted out by wisps of black and entire cities are simply washed away.
The four silhouettes cease, perching over the wastelands they have left behind. An endless black stain. The storm dies down. A keening wind is all that is heard and then a voice, a distant blot of white.
"hey guys wait for me!"
The horsemen gather, circling:" there is nothing leftt to destroy and still he comes".
"another lap of the planet".
"fine".
"Grrrr".
"You've left us nowhere to hide".
Kyle is closing in.
"Run!"
| |
[WP] The four horsemen: Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death are the harbingers of the apocalypse, serving forth chaos and destruction on all humanity. The Bible forgot to mention the fifth horseman: Kyle, whom the other four can't seem to ditch. | Famine, ever the outgoing personality that he is, reached out to grip his hand, in a firm, but meaningful, welcome to the astral planes.
"Oooh yeah, good to meet you boys, I could go for some Doritos."
This was absolutely not the reaction to which we were accustomed. Typically, immediate withering and death would occur. That would be a normal scenario. However, our new friend Kyle seemed somewhat unperturbed by the situation around him. Before we could notice what happened... our fellow rider Famine had been vanquished.
"Pestilence, you're up," I muttered, as Kyle pushed forth with his cadre of angels.
"Yes, this one will be mine," he recited in guttural tones, casual yet as foreboding as one could imagine.
Kyle, greeted by Pestilence, brandished a bizarre phallic instrument that seemed to dismiss any sort of..."greeting" that Pestilence sought to deliver. As quickly as the exchange had started, it was over.
"And aloha to you as well, my newly acquainted friend!" Kyle proclaimed, as he snapped a picture over his corpse.
What in the actual fuck. Who was this individual, in a floral print t-shirt, taking pictures of the reapers of the apocalypse? There was only one thing left to do. To give him my salutations, something that would end this and bring us back to normalcy. With everything upended, and only me to address our interloper in our most *considerate* of manners, I proceeded.
"Greetings," I uttered, grimacing with a candor that was uncertain of whose judgment this was exactly.
"Hello!" Kyle replied, with an unfitting exuberance that now commanded the attention of everything in the room. "I've heard SO much about you all."
I approached. I had seen so many fall before me, and Kyle should be no different. As I extended my hand in salutations I noticed him carving strange glyphs in the ground.
E-L-B
No matter. I went forth, thrusting my most effective "greeting" in his direction. "Come," I said, inviting him to his pernicious demise.
*you hear the howling of the CwnAnnwn*
"This couldn't be!" I exclaimed, watching from what was now a distance too far to ever meet Kyle again. I watched as he donned a new helmet, despite the actual denizens of hell striking him with unholy might repeatedly. He took another picture with the camera dangling from his neck, despite the denizens of hell striking him with unholy might repeatedly. He gave a salute, and exclaimed, "THIS WAS THE EASIEST ONE YET," then proceeded to vanish into thin air.
And there was no mistaking it. That was someone that, despite the name he used, was our brother who strode through the astral planes and wrought only murder.
Kyle was War. | Fucking Kyle.
Kyle the Unbeliever.
Kyle, the Horsemen of all Horsemen. He just wouldn’t go away. And he was always screwing shit up.
When Famine simply wanted to dry up a river, he said “Well, maybe that’s going a bit too far. Look, they’re already doing it to themselves. They don’t need your help.”
And they were. Famine watched from her cloud as the humans painstakingly built a dam upriver and starved out all an entire country that was fine before the dam was built. Thousands starved to death.
“See, you didn’t have to do anything, Fam. The humans will do to themselves.”
She fumed. She never got her chance to demonstrate the cost of godlessness directly, and the people went on thinking they were gods of the land, even as they killed themselves.
Fucking Kyle.
When Pestilence wanted to unleash an epidemic of disease, he shook his head. “Nah, Pest, they’ll do it to themselves! Watch!” And they did. They neglected their poor, and weak, and allowed themselves to live in squalor. They neglected their food animals, and allowed them to wallow in filth as well. Because it was easy. Because it was cheap. And out of that toxic stew of filth, and squalor, came a pestilence that killed over a million people over a few short weeks. All without pestilence lifting a finger.
Once again, the Horsemen had done nothing. All because of Kyle. Once again, the humans blamed themselves, and never thought of the Horsemen. Or the Apocalypse. Or of the Wrath of God.
Fucking Kyle.
When War and Death teamed up to avoid Kyle, they knew they were about to get some shit done. The humans were already pointing nuclear bombs at each other. It would simply take a push in the right direction. Perhaps the sign from one of the horsemen?
As Death and War saddled up their mighty steeds, and prepared to ride in different directions to instigate a conflict, once again, Kyle showed up.
“Where ya going, fellow horsemen?” Kyle didn’t ride, ever. He just sat on his cloud, smoked weed all day, and waxed poetic about how useless the bible was to anyone anymore. How the times had changed. How nobody cared about horsemen. Why? Because the world had been filled with famine, war, pestilence, and death since the advent of life.
Kyle was the worst horseman ever. Kyle was an atheist. Which was a little confusing. But he said he didn’t believe in things like punishing nonbelief with the lords cleaning, holy fire.
“We’re going to bring about the apocalypse, Kyle. These people have forgotten us. Look!” And as they looked down from their mighty place in the clouds, they saw the warships, and the guns, and the tanks. They saw every manner of every forbidden sin that God had ever spoken of, and more.
Kyle shook his head. “They’re just doing what you tell them to do. All the time.”
By this time, Famine and Pestilence had arrived.
“What do you mean, Kyle?” Pestilence asked, though not in earnest. He always had a reason why they should sit back and do nothing while humans pretended like they didn’t exist. Finally, it had come. The time of conflict. And the Horsemen had had just about enough of Kyle’s interference. They were going to ride with or without him.
“Look.” Kyle said, as he enjoyed a stick of Pocky. He offered a piece to Famine, who declined in disgust.
“You guys are on every T.V., all the time. You’re on every phone. Every screen. In the forefront of every mind. You’re changing the way people live. You’re constant. You are at work 24-hours a day down there. You don’t need to do anything. Down there, you are like Gods already.”
And the Horsemen looked down upon the people and knew what Kyle said was true. Every day, all the time, the people saw war, and famine, and death, and sickness. Perhaps it wasn’t their own, but they saw it on the other side of the world, and felt it close to their hearts even if they didn’t realize it. And so…the people grieved. And slowly they changed. They didn’t ever see, or hear anything good about the world. Pretty soon many gave up on the idea of everyday good.
Just like the horsemen.
They didn’t see anyone praying for the health and well-being of their fellow man. Or even just wishing for it. They didn’t see anyone working to clean the pollution of the world. Or those protecting animals from extinction. Or those trying to understand the cause and effect of humans interacting with the world. They didn’t hear the small, passive voices, drowned out by their screaming 24-hour doomsayer counterparts.
The world wasn’t falling apart everywhere. Even though the horsemen were a part of the lives of everyday people already, there were also people like Kyle. People who answered Famine with charity, death with Empathy, Pestilence with Care, and War with Peace.
People like Kyle, always screwing up the game.
| |
[WP] The four horsemen: Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death are the harbingers of the apocalypse, serving forth chaos and destruction on all humanity. The Bible forgot to mention the fifth horseman: Kyle, whom the other four can't seem to ditch. | The White Horse
I watched as the Lamb opened the first of the seven seals. Then I heard one of the five living creatures say in a voice like thunder, “Come and see!” I looked, and there before me was a white horse! Its rider held a bow, and he was given a crown, and he rode out as a conqueror bent on conquest. ( Revelation 6:1-2)
The Red Horse
When the Lamb opened the second seal, I heard the second living creature say, “Come and see!” Then another horse came out, a fiery red one. Its rider was given power to take peace from the earth and to make men slay each other. To him was given a large sword. ( Revelation 6:3-4)
The Black Horse
When the Lamb opened the third seal, I heard the third living creature say, “Come and see!” I looked, and there before me was a black horse! Its rider was holding a pair of scales in his hand. Then I heard what sounded like a voice among the four living creatures, saying, “A quart of wheat for a day’s wages, and three quarts of barley for a day’s wages, and do not damage the oil and the wine!” (Revelation 6:5-6)
The Pale Horse
When the Lamb opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth living creature say, “Come and see!” I looked and there before me was a pale horse! Its rider was named Death, and Hades was following close behind him. They were given power over a fourth of the earth to kill by sword, famine, and plague, and by the wild beasts of the earth. (Revelation 6:7-8)
The *Really* Pale Horse
When the Lamb opened the fifth seal, I heard the voice of the fifth living creature say, "Hey guys wait up!" I looked and there before me was an even paler horse! Its rider was sitting backwards on the horse and holding on for dear life. Then I heard a voice among the other four creatures saying, "Jesus Christ, who told Kyle we were riding out today?" And a voice echoed back from the heavens, "Oh man, sorry guys. I guess he had an alarm set. That seal was supposed to be for the alter of souls. My bad." (Revelation 6:9-11) | His pale horse brayed under him as his brothers approached. It was time for the quarterly report, Death always had a fondness for time and its principles. Perhaps that is why his brothers followed him and why even with all their different natures, his nature prevailed over all.
The first to arrive was the Knight in Shining Armor, the Pestilence of Conquest, the Victor, and the Archer with the Arrows of Plague. His titles were often contradictory as was his attitude. "Death, you look as sickly as Famine!" Pestilence said with his usual jovial demeanor. "I hope your keeping track that I was here first. And just in case you forget," he shot an arrow in the ground, "here is my mark of vicotry!" "Yes, yes brother you are always first and foremost in all you attempt. Now, tell brother Death about your works." Pestilence went on for some time about his temptation of mighty nations and the plagues he had spread with the powerful trade ships and the men in metal hats who ended an entire empire just by breathing. "Very good Archer of Many Arrows, I collected your works and the tally is quite impressive. Your count is actually short. Your reach indeed went beyond your own plans. Come, take your place beside me." Death was pleased with the efforts of his sibling.
"Skeletor, has you know who been around?" Pestilence was also first in his dislike of... Kyle, the rider of the pink horse. Kyle brought misfortune and badluck, but it often interfered with his other brothers machinations. Death knew that souls were souls, but the others never seemed to appreciate meddling in their plans. "No chrome dome, Kyle hasn't arrived yet. Probably fell in a puddle or something." A wicked smirk came across Pestilence face, "You know Barbarossa was my man and I am still peeved at the misfortune sown. What an end to a Crusade, a king drowning in the mud."
Now, out of the distance came the most ferocious and violent of the 5, War Never Ending, the Prince of Blood, Wrath Incarnate, the Rider of the Red Horse and Wielder of the Blood Sword, or Slaughter. "War, I see you are in a mood, what news and report do you bring?" Death saw a shimmer of anger uncommon in War's eye. "Brother Death, I bring tales of blood, death, and murder. But..." teeth grinding to force the words out, "But Kyle has yet again interfered with my games. The most despicable of which was the peace that broke out on a battlefield when some idiot lost his ball in No Man's Land. An entire day of... Peaceeee and other terrible words. A war of global scale and he stopped it with his clumsy attempts. Bah, let me hit him when he arrives." War was fuming and his eyes began to turn a blood red with killer intent. "Warrior of the Slaughter, did not the war continue after? Did millions not get added to my list?" Death hoped the mention of the fallen and bloodied would appease his wild brother. "I suppose... What are you looking at Archer? Without my whispers your conquest and plagues would fall flat." The argument between the two who were closest and at the same time most different in approach let the issue of Kyle pass. Death was pleased to see them forget.
Then came the Accountant of Famine, the Merchant of Hunger, the Weigher of Scales, and the Consumer of Crops. "Hello Brothers," his voice weak and calculated. He spoke in whispers as if every word and syllable was a transaction of importance. "Death, I have come to report that the stocks are high and the food is plenty. But... the mouths are dry and the bellies of the many are empty. The rich grow richer, the poor grow poorer, and the fields grow fallow. Even in times of plenty, they seem times of need." Death measured his tally sheet and saw the causes for which Famine was the source. "Indeed Merchant, you have swindled and stolen many lives with your works." "Robed one, I must also report Kyle, the pink shame, caused many crops to grow over and many scales to malfunction. I don't wish to imply he wants to help the souls, but his actions certainly don't help my cause." It was true, many had found fortune were none should have been due to Kyle's works. The luck of the poor and the misfortune of the rich should be non existent, but the Pink Rider was always getting his own plans jumbled.
And then, came Kyle... Maker of Trouble, Black Cat of the Cosmos, The Breaker of Glass, and He Who Trips. "Hello Brothers!!!" He rode forward to great them, but fell off his horse when he came to a stop. "Kyle, saddle up." Death said with some amusement. He would take Kyle's tally quick, before the other three decided to attack. Death always had a soft spot for Kyle. He kept the Apocalypse a little more interesting, but he would have to talk to him again about "good intentions."
And then a Trumpet sounded, and they went back to their works. Death, smiling his skeletal smile, knew that in time even Kyle would make enough mischief. He just hoped it was the right kind. | |
[WP] The four horsemen: Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death are the harbingers of the apocalypse, serving forth chaos and destruction on all humanity. The Bible forgot to mention the fifth horseman: Kyle, whom the other four can't seem to ditch. | Put this together quickly, any feedback is welcome - trying to get back in to writing.
“Will you just fuck off.”
“That seems a bit harsh! Why don’t you ever tell the other three to fuck off?”
“Because the other three are actually contributing to the mayhem around us, that is why!”
“Chill out, old man. If you keep on getting angry and what not, you will tire yourself out.”
“What on Earth do you mean?”
“Well, don’t you lot get tired being all angry and everything? I tell ya, yesterday, me and Daphne wandered over to these cute little village…well they got quite defensive, what with all the death and destruction and what not. I only wanted a drink! To cut a long story short, I ended up getting in a little fight, got all angry and what not. It tired me the hell out! Luckily, Daphne and I went back home pretty quickly…had a nice nap.”
“Kyle?”
“Yes, Mr. Famine?”
“Who the fuck is Daphne?”
“My horse!”
“You called your horse Daphne?”
“Well, at least she has a name! You guys haven’t even named yours.”
“Our horses don’t need a name. They are part of us, an extension of what we are.”
“Is that why whenever I go into the stables War’s horse always tries to bite me?”
“No. He tries to bite you because you are an irritant.”
Famine walked off, his sword needed sharpening. It had dulled throughout the day.
Kyle followed.
“Mr. Famine.”
“What?!”
“Did you ever see War Horse?”
“No. No I never saw War Horse.”
“You should have. It was great.”
“Kyle, why don’t you go and play with a bus?”
“A bus? They don’t really exist anymore Mr. Famine.”
Famine knelt down so that he was at eye contact with the short, unwanted Horseman.
“That was a gentle way of telling you to fuck off. I didn’t want to say that for fear of hurting your feelings.”
Kyle smiled. Of course, he smiled.
“Don’t worry Mr. Famine, you aren’t hurting my feelings. I understand what banter is.”
“This isn’t banter.”
“That is what Pestilence says too!”
There was a moment of silence. Famine shut his hateful eyes and tried to hold his breath, counting down from ten to one. This was going to be a stressful day.
One.
He could hear Kyle humming to himself.
Two.
Now Kyle had started tapping his foot.
Three.
Kyle must have seen a butterfly, he sounded like he was running around in circles.
Four.
He kept on sniffing. How did he have a blocked nose?!
Five.
He won’t stop sniffing.
Six.
Now he is sniffing AND tapping his foot.
Sev “What you doing Mr. Famine?”
“FINE!”
“Why are you shouting? Also, you need a mint.”
“I’m going out for a bit. Honestly, the fucking apocalypse is finally here and we get lumbered with you?”
“Classic banter Mr. F.” Kyle even replied with a wink and finger guns.
“Fuck this,” Famine placed his sword in his scabbard. “I’m going out.” He walked off towards to stables.
“Oh good! Daphne could do with a walk!”
| Code cracked out as fast as his fingers could type, and with his Morning Star gifts he was damn fast, though looking up from his laptop he was clearly not fast enough. Famine was already awake, doing her usual thing of spreading the ever moreish junk food to the refugees, who flocked to the truck like bees to those annoying desert flowers.
A hard tap on his shoulder, and Death's rasping voice sounded in his ear. "Kyle, will you please remember to shift your fucking laundry out of my kit bag!"
He looked behind back into the truck, and gave a sheepish grin. "If you will keep your stuff so close to mine, what'cha expect?"
Death pulled down his sunglasses, and gave him a long stare. "Father may have sent you to deal with the tech, but by all that is holy I swear one of these days..."
Dust kicked up from Death's heels as he stomped off, and by the time War joined Kyle on the bonnet of the truck eight refugees lay rapidly decomposing on the sandy track leading up to the UN headquarters.
In her sweetest diplomatic tone War pointed after him, "You are such a douche, you know that? Surely it wouldn't harm you to at least make an effort, we all share this space Kyle. God, you are such a jerk."
With a loud belch Pestilence announced himself, and lent over the bonnet, tipping it towards him. "Kyle, mate, you really need to get your act together, otherwise you can go..."
War shot him a warning, which Kyle was totally oblivious to. Without looking up from the keyboard he frantically tapped out the last series of instructions, and with a flourish hit enter. "Its done, we should have HBO sorted within the hour."
With a huge slap on the back Pestilence almost knocked him off the bonnet. "'Bout time. Been stuck in this hellhole waiting for instructions for too long." He jabbered at the laptop. "Think you can stream Game of Thrones?"
Dust kicked up as the wind rose, and Kyle pointed to the thousands of tents surrounding them. "Sure, but I think we'll put on a better show soon enough."
His sibblings exchanged glances, and War spoke in a hushed tone. "Jesus Kyle, how many times do we have to tell you to keep your voice down?"
More refugees swarmed around their other truck, eagerly grabbing hold of Famine's nutrient less food, and as the tide of starving refugees clamoured, Pestilence coughed all over them, disease and viruses gleefully carried on the wind. Kyle rolled his eyes, and went back to hacking his masterpiece. | |
[WP] The four horsemen: Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death are the harbingers of the apocalypse, serving forth chaos and destruction on all humanity. The Bible forgot to mention the fifth horseman: Kyle, whom the other four can't seem to ditch. | Put this together quickly, any feedback is welcome - trying to get back in to writing.
“Will you just fuck off.”
“That seems a bit harsh! Why don’t you ever tell the other three to fuck off?”
“Because the other three are actually contributing to the mayhem around us, that is why!”
“Chill out, old man. If you keep on getting angry and what not, you will tire yourself out.”
“What on Earth do you mean?”
“Well, don’t you lot get tired being all angry and everything? I tell ya, yesterday, me and Daphne wandered over to these cute little village…well they got quite defensive, what with all the death and destruction and what not. I only wanted a drink! To cut a long story short, I ended up getting in a little fight, got all angry and what not. It tired me the hell out! Luckily, Daphne and I went back home pretty quickly…had a nice nap.”
“Kyle?”
“Yes, Mr. Famine?”
“Who the fuck is Daphne?”
“My horse!”
“You called your horse Daphne?”
“Well, at least she has a name! You guys haven’t even named yours.”
“Our horses don’t need a name. They are part of us, an extension of what we are.”
“Is that why whenever I go into the stables War’s horse always tries to bite me?”
“No. He tries to bite you because you are an irritant.”
Famine walked off, his sword needed sharpening. It had dulled throughout the day.
Kyle followed.
“Mr. Famine.”
“What?!”
“Did you ever see War Horse?”
“No. No I never saw War Horse.”
“You should have. It was great.”
“Kyle, why don’t you go and play with a bus?”
“A bus? They don’t really exist anymore Mr. Famine.”
Famine knelt down so that he was at eye contact with the short, unwanted Horseman.
“That was a gentle way of telling you to fuck off. I didn’t want to say that for fear of hurting your feelings.”
Kyle smiled. Of course, he smiled.
“Don’t worry Mr. Famine, you aren’t hurting my feelings. I understand what banter is.”
“This isn’t banter.”
“That is what Pestilence says too!”
There was a moment of silence. Famine shut his hateful eyes and tried to hold his breath, counting down from ten to one. This was going to be a stressful day.
One.
He could hear Kyle humming to himself.
Two.
Now Kyle had started tapping his foot.
Three.
Kyle must have seen a butterfly, he sounded like he was running around in circles.
Four.
He kept on sniffing. How did he have a blocked nose?!
Five.
He won’t stop sniffing.
Six.
Now he is sniffing AND tapping his foot.
Sev “What you doing Mr. Famine?”
“FINE!”
“Why are you shouting? Also, you need a mint.”
“I’m going out for a bit. Honestly, the fucking apocalypse is finally here and we get lumbered with you?”
“Classic banter Mr. F.” Kyle even replied with a wink and finger guns.
“Fuck this,” Famine placed his sword in his scabbard. “I’m going out.” He walked off towards to stables.
“Oh good! Daphne could do with a walk!”
| "Death awaits you. She rests in the bottom of Eden, from which life is nurtured of her bosom. She is a cruel mother, most devoted to the welfare of her three firstborns: war, famine and pestilence. To secure their prosperity, she makes barren her womb, upon which the creatures of Earth whither in neglect. She penetrates the citadel of man's soul, turning him against his brother. And in commiseration with decay, she caresses packets of virulence into the wind with a maternal smile."
"No, you don't understand. I'm not here to protest my mortality. Death had *four* firstborns. I'm her fourth. My name is Kyle. How do you think I managed to locate this metaphysical dimension? With a GPS? Will you allow me to see my mother?"
The gatekeeper scrutinized the human before him. He was of robust constitution, with ruddy and beseeching eyes. This was a highly unusual sight. Most of the souls who came before him were disembodied.
"Very well. I will consult with Death and report your presence. Before I depart, I advise you to recollect the most salient theme of human mythology.
The gatekeeper vanished. Kyle twiddled his thumbs and thought of Sisyphus as instructed.
"Kyle!"
It was pestilence; the most gregarious of his siblings by necessity. Pestilence slapped him on the back and grinned congenially.
"Kyle, I've got news for you! Everyone on Earth despises you. They dream of your death at night and despair of your continued existence."
"Dammit, pestilence! If you infect my mind, I won't be able to propagate you to anyone else! Look where I am! On Earth, you were able to leap from body to body through ideas and bacteria. Your machinations don't work in this metaphysical dimension!"
Pestilence, the dimmest of his siblings too, grinned with ironical self-mockery.
"Would you care to meet war? I've been at odds with him lately, mostly because I have been trying to spread a meme that he had originally intended the flag of war to be white, which is ironic because white flags have become the universal flag of peace."
"No, I have no desire to meet war. He will only provoke me."
The gatekeeper materialized before Kyle and Pestilence, interrupting their conversation.
"Well?" Kyle asked with expectant triumph.
The gatekeeper hesitated. "Your mother wishes to see you. Please follow me."
Kyle left with the gatekeeper, aware of Pestilence's grinning eyes. They arrived at the valley of darkness and boarded a vessel into its heart.
"Do you see Joseph Conrad over there?" The gatekeeper pointed to the entrance of the river, where Joseph Conrad was dancing maniacally to accordion music. "He made a deal with your mother. In exchange for a literary conception of the descent into madness, Conrad agreed to become mad for eternity." They passed Conrad as he tap-danced and babbled nasally with fingers pinching his nose. They eventually reached the shadow of the valley of darkness. They left their vessel and ascended to Death's throne.
"My child!" Death crooned as she saw Kyle approach. "I can convert you into a thermonuclear device, if you desire."
"No, Mom!" Kyle whined petulantly. "I've come here because I'm not included in the Old Testament. If it is an inerrant report of this metaphysical dimension, then why am I not included in your Genealogy?"
Death put her finger to her chin and thought for a moment. "Well, Kyle, to be truthful, I receive a jolt of pleasure whenever someone dies. I *mean*, I copulate with the living to make them die. You are not the best expedient for this. My first three children provide me an interminable stream of pleasure. You are simply not equipped to maximize my pleasure. As I have said, I can convert you into a vial of small-pox, and I'm sure you can work with your brother to spread it."
Kyle began to utter a protest, but his sentience terminated at the sound of his mother's snap.
"Gatekeeper," Death mused leisurely, "I believe Kyle would serve me best as an oxygen molecule that turns blood into powder. Of course, such a molecule must be capable of replication, so perhaps we should endow it with a rudimentary quantity of hereditary information. But then it would become an organism. Oh, I know, make Kyle a virus that turns blood into powder. That way we can include the instruction manual for further propagation in his little body. Get Pestilence to assemble the instruction manual. Tell him to use RNA instead of DNA."
Kyle disappeared into a virus. The gatekeeper bowed his head before Death and left for the gates of the underworld. As he passed Conrad, who was doing a pantomime routine in adult diapers, he thought: "*How incestuous!*"
| |
[WP] The four horsemen: Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death are the harbingers of the apocalypse, serving forth chaos and destruction on all humanity. The Bible forgot to mention the fifth horseman: Kyle, whom the other four can't seem to ditch. | The four horsemen stood over the valley, surveying the devastation. Their time had finally come. Their destruction would not be stopped. Their chaos would ravage-
"Hey, guys!" Kyle shouted, arriving on his pony at a trot. "Wow, almost thought I lost you guys there!"
Pestilence sighed. It was the sound of withering, of rot and decay.
"How did he find us this time?" Famine whispered furiously to the others. Death simply shrugged.
"Gee golly, it looks like this is it, right?" Kyle said, looking over the ruins of the land. "Gosh, it looks real *unpleasant* down there!"
War was shaking. "I'm going to kill him this time, I swear it," he said, his fists clenching his skeletal mount's reigns.
"You can't, remember?" Death replied, shaking his head. "He's one of us. And no matter how much we hate to admit it, *he caused all of this*."
Kyle joined the other horsemen, and the five of them watched the apocalypse unfold below them. Men tore their skin asunder. Women wailed until their lungs collapsed. Family mercilessly murdered each other, without hesitation or comprehension.
It would have been such a beautiful moment, if not for Kyle.
"Oh wow, guys, guys!" Kyle said, eagerly pointing, "Look at that baby! That baby's *eating another baby!* Ain't that neat?"
The four other horsemen remained silent. They did their best to ignore him as they rode down, to finally end all humanity.
Kyle remained on the hill for a few seconds longer, just to take it all in. He smiled.
Then he joined the ranks of the horsemen:
Pestilence,
War,
Famine,
Death,
and *Dank Memes*. | "Death awaits you. She rests in the bottom of Eden, from which life is nurtured of her bosom. She is a cruel mother, most devoted to the welfare of her three firstborns: war, famine and pestilence. To secure their prosperity, she makes barren her womb, upon which the creatures of Earth whither in neglect. She penetrates the citadel of man's soul, turning him against his brother. And in commiseration with decay, she caresses packets of virulence into the wind with a maternal smile."
"No, you don't understand. I'm not here to protest my mortality. Death had *four* firstborns. I'm her fourth. My name is Kyle. How do you think I managed to locate this metaphysical dimension? With a GPS? Will you allow me to see my mother?"
The gatekeeper scrutinized the human before him. He was of robust constitution, with ruddy and beseeching eyes. This was a highly unusual sight. Most of the souls who came before him were disembodied.
"Very well. I will consult with Death and report your presence. Before I depart, I advise you to recollect the most salient theme of human mythology.
The gatekeeper vanished. Kyle twiddled his thumbs and thought of Sisyphus as instructed.
"Kyle!"
It was pestilence; the most gregarious of his siblings by necessity. Pestilence slapped him on the back and grinned congenially.
"Kyle, I've got news for you! Everyone on Earth despises you. They dream of your death at night and despair of your continued existence."
"Dammit, pestilence! If you infect my mind, I won't be able to propagate you to anyone else! Look where I am! On Earth, you were able to leap from body to body through ideas and bacteria. Your machinations don't work in this metaphysical dimension!"
Pestilence, the dimmest of his siblings too, grinned with ironical self-mockery.
"Would you care to meet war? I've been at odds with him lately, mostly because I have been trying to spread a meme that he had originally intended the flag of war to be white, which is ironic because white flags have become the universal flag of peace."
"No, I have no desire to meet war. He will only provoke me."
The gatekeeper materialized before Kyle and Pestilence, interrupting their conversation.
"Well?" Kyle asked with expectant triumph.
The gatekeeper hesitated. "Your mother wishes to see you. Please follow me."
Kyle left with the gatekeeper, aware of Pestilence's grinning eyes. They arrived at the valley of darkness and boarded a vessel into its heart.
"Do you see Joseph Conrad over there?" The gatekeeper pointed to the entrance of the river, where Joseph Conrad was dancing maniacally to accordion music. "He made a deal with your mother. In exchange for a literary conception of the descent into madness, Conrad agreed to become mad for eternity." They passed Conrad as he tap-danced and babbled nasally with fingers pinching his nose. They eventually reached the shadow of the valley of darkness. They left their vessel and ascended to Death's throne.
"My child!" Death crooned as she saw Kyle approach. "I can convert you into a thermonuclear device, if you desire."
"No, Mom!" Kyle whined petulantly. "I've come here because I'm not included in the Old Testament. If it is an inerrant report of this metaphysical dimension, then why am I not included in your Genealogy?"
Death put her finger to her chin and thought for a moment. "Well, Kyle, to be truthful, I receive a jolt of pleasure whenever someone dies. I *mean*, I copulate with the living to make them die. You are not the best expedient for this. My first three children provide me an interminable stream of pleasure. You are simply not equipped to maximize my pleasure. As I have said, I can convert you into a vial of small-pox, and I'm sure you can work with your brother to spread it."
Kyle began to utter a protest, but his sentience terminated at the sound of his mother's snap.
"Gatekeeper," Death mused leisurely, "I believe Kyle would serve me best as an oxygen molecule that turns blood into powder. Of course, such a molecule must be capable of replication, so perhaps we should endow it with a rudimentary quantity of hereditary information. But then it would become an organism. Oh, I know, make Kyle a virus that turns blood into powder. That way we can include the instruction manual for further propagation in his little body. Get Pestilence to assemble the instruction manual. Tell him to use RNA instead of DNA."
Kyle disappeared into a virus. The gatekeeper bowed his head before Death and left for the gates of the underworld. As he passed Conrad, who was doing a pantomime routine in adult diapers, he thought: "*How incestuous!*"
| |
[WP] The four horsemen: Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death are the harbingers of the apocalypse, serving forth chaos and destruction on all humanity. The Bible forgot to mention the fifth horseman: Kyle, whom the other four can't seem to ditch. | „Stupid horsemen! ‚You can’t ride with us‘- pah! You think you are so fancy with your horses and capes and rotten faces! I am doing all the work for you! I am the one that prepares the world! Without me, these stupid horsemen would never be able to ride! And they don’t even give me a horse… I have to walk everywhere… how degrading… stupid horsemen!”
“Hey, Kyle! What ya grumbling about?”
“My stupid fellow horsemen…”
“Ahh that again…. Hey Kyle, there is something I have been meaning to ask you for a while now: All the other horsemen have descriptive names like Famine and Death. How come your name is Kyle?”
“That’s because of what I am, my friend. No one really cares what it is, though. They can’t be bothered to find out.”
“So you have a ‘real’ name, like the others?”
“Yes.”
“So what…. Ahh you know what, never mind. I am sure it’s not important. Have good one, pal!”
“And there he goes…” Ignorance sighed as he watched his friend leave.
| "Death awaits you. She rests in the bottom of Eden, from which life is nurtured of her bosom. She is a cruel mother, most devoted to the welfare of her three firstborns: war, famine and pestilence. To secure their prosperity, she makes barren her womb, upon which the creatures of Earth whither in neglect. She penetrates the citadel of man's soul, turning him against his brother. And in commiseration with decay, she caresses packets of virulence into the wind with a maternal smile."
"No, you don't understand. I'm not here to protest my mortality. Death had *four* firstborns. I'm her fourth. My name is Kyle. How do you think I managed to locate this metaphysical dimension? With a GPS? Will you allow me to see my mother?"
The gatekeeper scrutinized the human before him. He was of robust constitution, with ruddy and beseeching eyes. This was a highly unusual sight. Most of the souls who came before him were disembodied.
"Very well. I will consult with Death and report your presence. Before I depart, I advise you to recollect the most salient theme of human mythology.
The gatekeeper vanished. Kyle twiddled his thumbs and thought of Sisyphus as instructed.
"Kyle!"
It was pestilence; the most gregarious of his siblings by necessity. Pestilence slapped him on the back and grinned congenially.
"Kyle, I've got news for you! Everyone on Earth despises you. They dream of your death at night and despair of your continued existence."
"Dammit, pestilence! If you infect my mind, I won't be able to propagate you to anyone else! Look where I am! On Earth, you were able to leap from body to body through ideas and bacteria. Your machinations don't work in this metaphysical dimension!"
Pestilence, the dimmest of his siblings too, grinned with ironical self-mockery.
"Would you care to meet war? I've been at odds with him lately, mostly because I have been trying to spread a meme that he had originally intended the flag of war to be white, which is ironic because white flags have become the universal flag of peace."
"No, I have no desire to meet war. He will only provoke me."
The gatekeeper materialized before Kyle and Pestilence, interrupting their conversation.
"Well?" Kyle asked with expectant triumph.
The gatekeeper hesitated. "Your mother wishes to see you. Please follow me."
Kyle left with the gatekeeper, aware of Pestilence's grinning eyes. They arrived at the valley of darkness and boarded a vessel into its heart.
"Do you see Joseph Conrad over there?" The gatekeeper pointed to the entrance of the river, where Joseph Conrad was dancing maniacally to accordion music. "He made a deal with your mother. In exchange for a literary conception of the descent into madness, Conrad agreed to become mad for eternity." They passed Conrad as he tap-danced and babbled nasally with fingers pinching his nose. They eventually reached the shadow of the valley of darkness. They left their vessel and ascended to Death's throne.
"My child!" Death crooned as she saw Kyle approach. "I can convert you into a thermonuclear device, if you desire."
"No, Mom!" Kyle whined petulantly. "I've come here because I'm not included in the Old Testament. If it is an inerrant report of this metaphysical dimension, then why am I not included in your Genealogy?"
Death put her finger to her chin and thought for a moment. "Well, Kyle, to be truthful, I receive a jolt of pleasure whenever someone dies. I *mean*, I copulate with the living to make them die. You are not the best expedient for this. My first three children provide me an interminable stream of pleasure. You are simply not equipped to maximize my pleasure. As I have said, I can convert you into a vial of small-pox, and I'm sure you can work with your brother to spread it."
Kyle began to utter a protest, but his sentience terminated at the sound of his mother's snap.
"Gatekeeper," Death mused leisurely, "I believe Kyle would serve me best as an oxygen molecule that turns blood into powder. Of course, such a molecule must be capable of replication, so perhaps we should endow it with a rudimentary quantity of hereditary information. But then it would become an organism. Oh, I know, make Kyle a virus that turns blood into powder. That way we can include the instruction manual for further propagation in his little body. Get Pestilence to assemble the instruction manual. Tell him to use RNA instead of DNA."
Kyle disappeared into a virus. The gatekeeper bowed his head before Death and left for the gates of the underworld. As he passed Conrad, who was doing a pantomime routine in adult diapers, he thought: "*How incestuous!*"
| |
[WP] The four horsemen: Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death are the harbingers of the apocalypse, serving forth chaos and destruction on all humanity. The Bible forgot to mention the fifth horseman: Kyle, whom the other four can't seem to ditch. | Death was the oldest. Since time immemorial, people have died and they have come to him. Mankind fights an endless war against him. Though they may have succeeded in stifling his actions, Death is patient. He knows that in the end, all things come to him.
Pestilence was Death's brother. He brought plague upon the lands. Staining the Earth black with disease and blight. His method of bringing people to his brother was slow and excruciating. However, mankind have begun to stave him off. Disease was beaten by technology and he increasingly faded into irrelevance.
Famine was as old as Death and pre-dated the birth of mankind. He worked with Pestilence to target the source of man's strength, his food and fuel. He destroyed crop and rotted grain. Starvation and a slow path to Death awaited those afflicted by him. However, man stood strong against him. They developed methods to create a surplus of food, too much for Famine to destroy. They developed methods to deflect his hand so that he may no longer afflict the source of man's strength. Thus, Famine, like Pestilence, faded into irrelevance.
War was the youngest. He was smart and cunning. He channeled man's strength against themselves. Conflict and strife became the grounds for which man displayed his strength. Efficient in work, he brought many to Death. However after his most brilliant work, where War embroiled the world twice over, mankind caught on to his cunning. Man made laws and grew to depend on each other. Though they may never fully quell War's influence, they made sure he would never afflict the world so spectacularly ever again.
Death was unhappy. Mankind had defeated his brothers and impeded his work. In his impatience and anger, he consulted his 5th brother, Kyle.
Kyle was a strange fellow amongst the brothers. He was quiet, lazy and seemed to care little for Death's work. He decided that his own birthname was too tedious to pronounce and opted for an easier name. Gaelic in origin, "Kyle" meant "narrow" a strange name for a Horseman to take on.
"Help me Kyle. My brothers are defeated. Mankind may one day defeat me as well. Please help out just this once." Kyle said nothing and merely nodded. He then disappeared off to perform his work.
As Death sat around his bedridden brothers, a miracle occured. Pestilence finger twitched and he his hands grew fleshy. Disease once again spread around the world. No longer as powerful as he once was, but alive once again.
Famine groaned and began to sit upright. Once again, crops wilted and people starved. Famine however, felt something amiss, some of his work was...voluntary. Mankind began to starve itself.
War rose from his bed with new found strength. The gears of conflict shook off their rust and began to turn once again. Innocents die in battle again, widows gained and fathers lost. Misguided soldiers die under authority's whims.
"You revived our brothers Kyle. How did you do it?" Asked Death, impressed with Kyle's work.
"I am Kyle, "narrow", the fourth of the Horsemen. Born with humanity but before War. My influence appeared when the first man decided that he did not need his tribe to survive. Narrow are the minds of humans.
Humans defeated disease with miracle cures. Now some fear that those cures are harmful to them. Let them face Pestilence's wrath.
Humans defeated Famine through piling resources and modifying crop. Now they hoard but never give. They let their breathren starve. Now they feel that excess of food is sin. They willing starve themselves of their source of strength to meet society's whims. Let them suffer by Famine's hand.
Humans defeated War through tolerance, diplomacy and restraint. Now they turn intolerant and unleash violence against those not of their own group. They justify their "Holy Wars" with the blood of innocents. Violence begets violence, vengeance for innocent blood spilled is carried out by the sword. Let them spiral down to oblivion, guided by War.
Narrow are the minds of humans. They do not think before they act. They believe what they want to believe and ignore what they don't.
I am Ignorance. Until mankind is capable of defeating me, they can never truly destroy the Horsemen."
EDIT: Nice to receive some criticism, turns out I severely lack knowledge on how the whole 4 Horsemen thing works. I really should go read up on this. Some mistakes here and there as well. I kinda, forgot to follow up on the "modified crop" thing that was pointed out. Oops. Also apparently my 5th paragraph should have Death refer to Kyle as his 4th brother, not his 5th.
Reddit gold. Did not expect that. Thanks to those who tossed those my way. | "Death awaits you. She rests in the bottom of Eden, from which life is nurtured of her bosom. She is a cruel mother, most devoted to the welfare of her three firstborns: war, famine and pestilence. To secure their prosperity, she makes barren her womb, upon which the creatures of Earth whither in neglect. She penetrates the citadel of man's soul, turning him against his brother. And in commiseration with decay, she caresses packets of virulence into the wind with a maternal smile."
"No, you don't understand. I'm not here to protest my mortality. Death had *four* firstborns. I'm her fourth. My name is Kyle. How do you think I managed to locate this metaphysical dimension? With a GPS? Will you allow me to see my mother?"
The gatekeeper scrutinized the human before him. He was of robust constitution, with ruddy and beseeching eyes. This was a highly unusual sight. Most of the souls who came before him were disembodied.
"Very well. I will consult with Death and report your presence. Before I depart, I advise you to recollect the most salient theme of human mythology.
The gatekeeper vanished. Kyle twiddled his thumbs and thought of Sisyphus as instructed.
"Kyle!"
It was pestilence; the most gregarious of his siblings by necessity. Pestilence slapped him on the back and grinned congenially.
"Kyle, I've got news for you! Everyone on Earth despises you. They dream of your death at night and despair of your continued existence."
"Dammit, pestilence! If you infect my mind, I won't be able to propagate you to anyone else! Look where I am! On Earth, you were able to leap from body to body through ideas and bacteria. Your machinations don't work in this metaphysical dimension!"
Pestilence, the dimmest of his siblings too, grinned with ironical self-mockery.
"Would you care to meet war? I've been at odds with him lately, mostly because I have been trying to spread a meme that he had originally intended the flag of war to be white, which is ironic because white flags have become the universal flag of peace."
"No, I have no desire to meet war. He will only provoke me."
The gatekeeper materialized before Kyle and Pestilence, interrupting their conversation.
"Well?" Kyle asked with expectant triumph.
The gatekeeper hesitated. "Your mother wishes to see you. Please follow me."
Kyle left with the gatekeeper, aware of Pestilence's grinning eyes. They arrived at the valley of darkness and boarded a vessel into its heart.
"Do you see Joseph Conrad over there?" The gatekeeper pointed to the entrance of the river, where Joseph Conrad was dancing maniacally to accordion music. "He made a deal with your mother. In exchange for a literary conception of the descent into madness, Conrad agreed to become mad for eternity." They passed Conrad as he tap-danced and babbled nasally with fingers pinching his nose. They eventually reached the shadow of the valley of darkness. They left their vessel and ascended to Death's throne.
"My child!" Death crooned as she saw Kyle approach. "I can convert you into a thermonuclear device, if you desire."
"No, Mom!" Kyle whined petulantly. "I've come here because I'm not included in the Old Testament. If it is an inerrant report of this metaphysical dimension, then why am I not included in your Genealogy?"
Death put her finger to her chin and thought for a moment. "Well, Kyle, to be truthful, I receive a jolt of pleasure whenever someone dies. I *mean*, I copulate with the living to make them die. You are not the best expedient for this. My first three children provide me an interminable stream of pleasure. You are simply not equipped to maximize my pleasure. As I have said, I can convert you into a vial of small-pox, and I'm sure you can work with your brother to spread it."
Kyle began to utter a protest, but his sentience terminated at the sound of his mother's snap.
"Gatekeeper," Death mused leisurely, "I believe Kyle would serve me best as an oxygen molecule that turns blood into powder. Of course, such a molecule must be capable of replication, so perhaps we should endow it with a rudimentary quantity of hereditary information. But then it would become an organism. Oh, I know, make Kyle a virus that turns blood into powder. That way we can include the instruction manual for further propagation in his little body. Get Pestilence to assemble the instruction manual. Tell him to use RNA instead of DNA."
Kyle disappeared into a virus. The gatekeeper bowed his head before Death and left for the gates of the underworld. As he passed Conrad, who was doing a pantomime routine in adult diapers, he thought: "*How incestuous!*"
| |
[WP] The four horsemen: Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death are the harbingers of the apocalypse, serving forth chaos and destruction on all humanity. The Bible forgot to mention the fifth horseman: Kyle, whom the other four can't seem to ditch. | Death was the oldest. Since time immemorial, people have died and they have come to him. Mankind fights an endless war against him. Though they may have succeeded in stifling his actions, Death is patient. He knows that in the end, all things come to him.
Pestilence was Death's brother. He brought plague upon the lands. Staining the Earth black with disease and blight. His method of bringing people to his brother was slow and excruciating. However, mankind have begun to stave him off. Disease was beaten by technology and he increasingly faded into irrelevance.
Famine was as old as Death and pre-dated the birth of mankind. He worked with Pestilence to target the source of man's strength, his food and fuel. He destroyed crop and rotted grain. Starvation and a slow path to Death awaited those afflicted by him. However, man stood strong against him. They developed methods to create a surplus of food, too much for Famine to destroy. They developed methods to deflect his hand so that he may no longer afflict the source of man's strength. Thus, Famine, like Pestilence, faded into irrelevance.
War was the youngest. He was smart and cunning. He channeled man's strength against themselves. Conflict and strife became the grounds for which man displayed his strength. Efficient in work, he brought many to Death. However after his most brilliant work, where War embroiled the world twice over, mankind caught on to his cunning. Man made laws and grew to depend on each other. Though they may never fully quell War's influence, they made sure he would never afflict the world so spectacularly ever again.
Death was unhappy. Mankind had defeated his brothers and impeded his work. In his impatience and anger, he consulted his 5th brother, Kyle.
Kyle was a strange fellow amongst the brothers. He was quiet, lazy and seemed to care little for Death's work. He decided that his own birthname was too tedious to pronounce and opted for an easier name. Gaelic in origin, "Kyle" meant "narrow" a strange name for a Horseman to take on.
"Help me Kyle. My brothers are defeated. Mankind may one day defeat me as well. Please help out just this once." Kyle said nothing and merely nodded. He then disappeared off to perform his work.
As Death sat around his bedridden brothers, a miracle occured. Pestilence finger twitched and he his hands grew fleshy. Disease once again spread around the world. No longer as powerful as he once was, but alive once again.
Famine groaned and began to sit upright. Once again, crops wilted and people starved. Famine however, felt something amiss, some of his work was...voluntary. Mankind began to starve itself.
War rose from his bed with new found strength. The gears of conflict shook off their rust and began to turn once again. Innocents die in battle again, widows gained and fathers lost. Misguided soldiers die under authority's whims.
"You revived our brothers Kyle. How did you do it?" Asked Death, impressed with Kyle's work.
"I am Kyle, "narrow", the fourth of the Horsemen. Born with humanity but before War. My influence appeared when the first man decided that he did not need his tribe to survive. Narrow are the minds of humans.
Humans defeated disease with miracle cures. Now some fear that those cures are harmful to them. Let them face Pestilence's wrath.
Humans defeated Famine through piling resources and modifying crop. Now they hoard but never give. They let their breathren starve. Now they feel that excess of food is sin. They willing starve themselves of their source of strength to meet society's whims. Let them suffer by Famine's hand.
Humans defeated War through tolerance, diplomacy and restraint. Now they turn intolerant and unleash violence against those not of their own group. They justify their "Holy Wars" with the blood of innocents. Violence begets violence, vengeance for innocent blood spilled is carried out by the sword. Let them spiral down to oblivion, guided by War.
Narrow are the minds of humans. They do not think before they act. They believe what they want to believe and ignore what they don't.
I am Ignorance. Until mankind is capable of defeating me, they can never truly destroy the Horsemen."
EDIT: Nice to receive some criticism, turns out I severely lack knowledge on how the whole 4 Horsemen thing works. I really should go read up on this. Some mistakes here and there as well. I kinda, forgot to follow up on the "modified crop" thing that was pointed out. Oops. Also apparently my 5th paragraph should have Death refer to Kyle as his 4th brother, not his 5th.
Reddit gold. Did not expect that. Thanks to those who tossed those my way. | The four horsemen stood over the valley, surveying the devastation. Their time had finally come. Their destruction would not be stopped. Their chaos would ravage-
"Hey, guys!" Kyle shouted, arriving on his pony at a trot. "Wow, almost thought I lost you guys there!"
Pestilence sighed. It was the sound of withering, of rot and decay.
"How did he find us this time?" Famine whispered furiously to the others. Death simply shrugged.
"Gee golly, it looks like this is it, right?" Kyle said, looking over the ruins of the land. "Gosh, it looks real *unpleasant* down there!"
War was shaking. "I'm going to kill him this time, I swear it," he said, his fists clenching his skeletal mount's reigns.
"You can't, remember?" Death replied, shaking his head. "He's one of us. And no matter how much we hate to admit it, *he caused all of this*."
Kyle joined the other horsemen, and the five of them watched the apocalypse unfold below them. Men tore their skin asunder. Women wailed until their lungs collapsed. Family mercilessly murdered each other, without hesitation or comprehension.
It would have been such a beautiful moment, if not for Kyle.
"Oh wow, guys, guys!" Kyle said, eagerly pointing, "Look at that baby! That baby's *eating another baby!* Ain't that neat?"
The four other horsemen remained silent. They did their best to ignore him as they rode down, to finally end all humanity.
Kyle remained on the hill for a few seconds longer, just to take it all in. He smiled.
Then he joined the ranks of the horsemen:
Pestilence,
War,
Famine,
Death,
and *Dank Memes*. | |
[WP] The four horsemen: Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death are the harbingers of the apocalypse, serving forth chaos and destruction on all humanity. The Bible forgot to mention the fifth horseman: Kyle, whom the other four can't seem to ditch. | Death was the oldest. Since time immemorial, people have died and they have come to him. Mankind fights an endless war against him. Though they may have succeeded in stifling his actions, Death is patient. He knows that in the end, all things come to him.
Pestilence was Death's brother. He brought plague upon the lands. Staining the Earth black with disease and blight. His method of bringing people to his brother was slow and excruciating. However, mankind have begun to stave him off. Disease was beaten by technology and he increasingly faded into irrelevance.
Famine was as old as Death and pre-dated the birth of mankind. He worked with Pestilence to target the source of man's strength, his food and fuel. He destroyed crop and rotted grain. Starvation and a slow path to Death awaited those afflicted by him. However, man stood strong against him. They developed methods to create a surplus of food, too much for Famine to destroy. They developed methods to deflect his hand so that he may no longer afflict the source of man's strength. Thus, Famine, like Pestilence, faded into irrelevance.
War was the youngest. He was smart and cunning. He channeled man's strength against themselves. Conflict and strife became the grounds for which man displayed his strength. Efficient in work, he brought many to Death. However after his most brilliant work, where War embroiled the world twice over, mankind caught on to his cunning. Man made laws and grew to depend on each other. Though they may never fully quell War's influence, they made sure he would never afflict the world so spectacularly ever again.
Death was unhappy. Mankind had defeated his brothers and impeded his work. In his impatience and anger, he consulted his 5th brother, Kyle.
Kyle was a strange fellow amongst the brothers. He was quiet, lazy and seemed to care little for Death's work. He decided that his own birthname was too tedious to pronounce and opted for an easier name. Gaelic in origin, "Kyle" meant "narrow" a strange name for a Horseman to take on.
"Help me Kyle. My brothers are defeated. Mankind may one day defeat me as well. Please help out just this once." Kyle said nothing and merely nodded. He then disappeared off to perform his work.
As Death sat around his bedridden brothers, a miracle occured. Pestilence finger twitched and he his hands grew fleshy. Disease once again spread around the world. No longer as powerful as he once was, but alive once again.
Famine groaned and began to sit upright. Once again, crops wilted and people starved. Famine however, felt something amiss, some of his work was...voluntary. Mankind began to starve itself.
War rose from his bed with new found strength. The gears of conflict shook off their rust and began to turn once again. Innocents die in battle again, widows gained and fathers lost. Misguided soldiers die under authority's whims.
"You revived our brothers Kyle. How did you do it?" Asked Death, impressed with Kyle's work.
"I am Kyle, "narrow", the fourth of the Horsemen. Born with humanity but before War. My influence appeared when the first man decided that he did not need his tribe to survive. Narrow are the minds of humans.
Humans defeated disease with miracle cures. Now some fear that those cures are harmful to them. Let them face Pestilence's wrath.
Humans defeated Famine through piling resources and modifying crop. Now they hoard but never give. They let their breathren starve. Now they feel that excess of food is sin. They willing starve themselves of their source of strength to meet society's whims. Let them suffer by Famine's hand.
Humans defeated War through tolerance, diplomacy and restraint. Now they turn intolerant and unleash violence against those not of their own group. They justify their "Holy Wars" with the blood of innocents. Violence begets violence, vengeance for innocent blood spilled is carried out by the sword. Let them spiral down to oblivion, guided by War.
Narrow are the minds of humans. They do not think before they act. They believe what they want to believe and ignore what they don't.
I am Ignorance. Until mankind is capable of defeating me, they can never truly destroy the Horsemen."
EDIT: Nice to receive some criticism, turns out I severely lack knowledge on how the whole 4 Horsemen thing works. I really should go read up on this. Some mistakes here and there as well. I kinda, forgot to follow up on the "modified crop" thing that was pointed out. Oops. Also apparently my 5th paragraph should have Death refer to Kyle as his 4th brother, not his 5th.
Reddit gold. Did not expect that. Thanks to those who tossed those my way. | „Stupid horsemen! ‚You can’t ride with us‘- pah! You think you are so fancy with your horses and capes and rotten faces! I am doing all the work for you! I am the one that prepares the world! Without me, these stupid horsemen would never be able to ride! And they don’t even give me a horse… I have to walk everywhere… how degrading… stupid horsemen!”
“Hey, Kyle! What ya grumbling about?”
“My stupid fellow horsemen…”
“Ahh that again…. Hey Kyle, there is something I have been meaning to ask you for a while now: All the other horsemen have descriptive names like Famine and Death. How come your name is Kyle?”
“That’s because of what I am, my friend. No one really cares what it is, though. They can’t be bothered to find out.”
“So you have a ‘real’ name, like the others?”
“Yes.”
“So what…. Ahh you know what, never mind. I am sure it’s not important. Have good one, pal!”
“And there he goes…” Ignorance sighed as he watched his friend leave.
| |
[WP] The four horsemen: Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death are the harbingers of the apocalypse, serving forth chaos and destruction on all humanity. The Bible forgot to mention the fifth horseman: Kyle, whom the other four can't seem to ditch. | Death was the oldest. Since time immemorial, people have died and they have come to him. Mankind fights an endless war against him. Though they may have succeeded in stifling his actions, Death is patient. He knows that in the end, all things come to him.
Pestilence was Death's brother. He brought plague upon the lands. Staining the Earth black with disease and blight. His method of bringing people to his brother was slow and excruciating. However, mankind have begun to stave him off. Disease was beaten by technology and he increasingly faded into irrelevance.
Famine was as old as Death and pre-dated the birth of mankind. He worked with Pestilence to target the source of man's strength, his food and fuel. He destroyed crop and rotted grain. Starvation and a slow path to Death awaited those afflicted by him. However, man stood strong against him. They developed methods to create a surplus of food, too much for Famine to destroy. They developed methods to deflect his hand so that he may no longer afflict the source of man's strength. Thus, Famine, like Pestilence, faded into irrelevance.
War was the youngest. He was smart and cunning. He channeled man's strength against themselves. Conflict and strife became the grounds for which man displayed his strength. Efficient in work, he brought many to Death. However after his most brilliant work, where War embroiled the world twice over, mankind caught on to his cunning. Man made laws and grew to depend on each other. Though they may never fully quell War's influence, they made sure he would never afflict the world so spectacularly ever again.
Death was unhappy. Mankind had defeated his brothers and impeded his work. In his impatience and anger, he consulted his 5th brother, Kyle.
Kyle was a strange fellow amongst the brothers. He was quiet, lazy and seemed to care little for Death's work. He decided that his own birthname was too tedious to pronounce and opted for an easier name. Gaelic in origin, "Kyle" meant "narrow" a strange name for a Horseman to take on.
"Help me Kyle. My brothers are defeated. Mankind may one day defeat me as well. Please help out just this once." Kyle said nothing and merely nodded. He then disappeared off to perform his work.
As Death sat around his bedridden brothers, a miracle occured. Pestilence finger twitched and he his hands grew fleshy. Disease once again spread around the world. No longer as powerful as he once was, but alive once again.
Famine groaned and began to sit upright. Once again, crops wilted and people starved. Famine however, felt something amiss, some of his work was...voluntary. Mankind began to starve itself.
War rose from his bed with new found strength. The gears of conflict shook off their rust and began to turn once again. Innocents die in battle again, widows gained and fathers lost. Misguided soldiers die under authority's whims.
"You revived our brothers Kyle. How did you do it?" Asked Death, impressed with Kyle's work.
"I am Kyle, "narrow", the fourth of the Horsemen. Born with humanity but before War. My influence appeared when the first man decided that he did not need his tribe to survive. Narrow are the minds of humans.
Humans defeated disease with miracle cures. Now some fear that those cures are harmful to them. Let them face Pestilence's wrath.
Humans defeated Famine through piling resources and modifying crop. Now they hoard but never give. They let their breathren starve. Now they feel that excess of food is sin. They willing starve themselves of their source of strength to meet society's whims. Let them suffer by Famine's hand.
Humans defeated War through tolerance, diplomacy and restraint. Now they turn intolerant and unleash violence against those not of their own group. They justify their "Holy Wars" with the blood of innocents. Violence begets violence, vengeance for innocent blood spilled is carried out by the sword. Let them spiral down to oblivion, guided by War.
Narrow are the minds of humans. They do not think before they act. They believe what they want to believe and ignore what they don't.
I am Ignorance. Until mankind is capable of defeating me, they can never truly destroy the Horsemen."
EDIT: Nice to receive some criticism, turns out I severely lack knowledge on how the whole 4 Horsemen thing works. I really should go read up on this. Some mistakes here and there as well. I kinda, forgot to follow up on the "modified crop" thing that was pointed out. Oops. Also apparently my 5th paragraph should have Death refer to Kyle as his 4th brother, not his 5th.
Reddit gold. Did not expect that. Thanks to those who tossed those my way. | "Wait up guys!" Kyle snorted his request, the syllables turning into lisps through the grates of his braces.
"Ah fuck, it's Kyle." Pestilence turned his diseased steed from the ledge, it seemed to be nothing more than an animated carcass; its body crawling with the critters of nightmares, a rather long centipede exiting one tunneled hole and stretching to enter another. Pestilence's own body seeming just as lifeless, and even more burdened by the housing of insects, crawling all around him like the bark of a poisoned tree, he was the perfect hive.
They all stared at the approaching fifth horseman, sitting on his rather normal pony.
"Hey guys." Another snot, betraying Kyle's stuffed sinus's. "Gee wiz, can you believe it! Finally! It's the apocalypse!" He said while aligning his shifting specs.
"Yes. Kyle. We can." Said Famine, entirely unamused. Her voice an older woman's strained voice. Her back hunched atop her emaciated horse, looking as if it would topple at any moment. She held within her bony hands a scale filled with rotten and spoiled fruits, reaching for one with clawed and skinny fingers. She bit the pear through the few teeth she still had, Kyle watched it burst like an infectious cyst in her mouth.
"Careful Famine, you don't wanna get food poisoning and miss the big day!" Kyle smiled, completely affable and giddy beside himself at the thought of harboring destruction and death. Famine simply eyed him scornfully, chewing noisily through curled lips, as the insalubrious looking juices of the pear ran purple down her chin.
"Fine Kyle. Join us! Join us as we begin the end of everything! Watch as we shall avulse all things into oblivion!" Death proclaimed, his skeletal hands stretched outwards, his face hidden behind the hood of his robe sown from shadows and darkness. Only a dreary mist expelling from the hood's shadow.
All below them they watched from their ledge as the world burnt to the ground. Already eyeing the moving fiery calamity which was War. Flaming skin tearing through the cities, the fractious cacophony of human screams filling the air.
Kyle stepped to the forefront, his suspenders holding his trousers tightly as he took in a puff of his inhaler. "Aww gee. War looks upset. Doesn't he know that if he keeps this up it will be bad for his skin?"
Death responded with a clap of his boned palm against an equally bony forehead, only a pleased retort of snorting coming from Kyle. | |
[WP] You are a Serial Killer who follows a special math equation to determine who your next victim should be. Your latest victim points out a flaw in how you solve the equation. | “You must be wondering why you’re here.”
I opened my eyes. I was in a dimly lit room; the monitor sitting in front of me was the only light source. I tried to move my hands and feet; they were tied with rope to my chair. The voice I heard was speaking from behind me.
“Let me explain. I kill people. For fun. I created a program that chooses my victims according to a many complex variables.”
I stared at my kidnapper’s monitor. A window was open, displaying what I assumed to be the source code of his program. I started reading his code.
“Variables such as weather, time, temperature, what I had for dinner last night, frequency of girl scouts ringing my door, number of birds that shit on my car last week- “
“You fucking idiot,” I murmured.
“Excuse me?”
“I said, you’re a fucking idiot.”
“I’ll let you know that I could kill you right here and-“
“You’re such a fucking idiot. Arrays are ZERO INDEXED meaning they start at ZERO, not ONE. Why the fuck did you start all your arrays at one? Fucking idiot.”
“I… I… w-what?”
My kidnapper was now beside me reading his code. It was dark, but I could see him trembling as he was reading. He opened a Chrome tab and googled, “do arrays really start a zero?” He let out a gasp after the results appeared.
He stood up straight and picked up a gun from the table. Without saying a single word, he aimed it at his head and pulled the trigger. His body crumpled to the floor.
“…Aw fuck. Who’s going to untie me now?”
| 3:32 a.m., Friday, September, 21, 2017:
This couldn’t be right. He couldn’t believe it. Mark Shostakovich laid in the bottom bunk of his sticker covered bunkbed, in his dimly lit, shit hole of a bedroom. The light of the mysterious TI-84 calculator gleaming into his eyes, he squinted into the screen in disbelief:
“Lauren”
“This can’t be right,” he muttered to himself with a dry, shaky voice. The mysterious force that he had put all of his faith into wanted him to brutally rape and murder the only person that he had ever genuinely cared for, but why?
— | |
[WP] You are a Serial Killer who follows a special math equation to determine who your next victim should be. Your latest victim points out a flaw in how you solve the equation. | It was in that moment that this man saw through my game and I realized that it’s not about the math, I just like killing people. He pointed out that the equation really doesn’t go anywhere and that my understanding of what I thought it did really has no mathematical basis. I still sawed off his head for making me feel dumb. Asshole. | 3:32 a.m., Friday, September, 21, 2017:
This couldn’t be right. He couldn’t believe it. Mark Shostakovich laid in the bottom bunk of his sticker covered bunkbed, in his dimly lit, shit hole of a bedroom. The light of the mysterious TI-84 calculator gleaming into his eyes, he squinted into the screen in disbelief:
“Lauren”
“This can’t be right,” he muttered to himself with a dry, shaky voice. The mysterious force that he had put all of his faith into wanted him to brutally rape and murder the only person that he had ever genuinely cared for, but why?
— | |
[WP] You are a Serial Killer who follows a special math equation to determine who your next victim should be. Your latest victim points out a flaw in how you solve the equation. | Serial Killer: Two! Four! Six! Eight! Who do I eviscerate? One! Three! Five! Seven! I'll cut you and you'll go to heave... Wait, why is your hand raised? I said no more questions!
First Grader 1: But you forgot nine.
[Class laughs through their decorative, zebra-striped duct tape covered mouths.]
Serial Killer: What?
First Grader 1: You forgot nine, Miss.
Serial Killer: [Still confused.]
First Grader 2: [Duct tape partially loose.] Nine! In the poem... You stopped at seven, see? [Points to number line above the board at the front of the room.]
Serial Killer: [Brandishing safety scissors.] Goddamnit! You didn't raise your hand, and I didn't call on you.
Class: [Through loosening duct tape.] Oooooooooo!
Serial Killer: Why is the tape coming off?!
First Grader 3: You didn't... [Raises hand.]
Serial Killer: Thank you. What?
First Grader 3: You didn't use enough tape.
Serial Killer: What do you mean, I didn't use enough tape? I gave you each a piece big enough to cover your mouth. I'm not made of tape. I have to buy these supplies with my own money.
First Grader 2: We know...
Serial Killer: Go to timeout! Right fucking now!
Class: [Tape fully off of everyone now.] OOOOOOOOOO!
Serial Killer: ENOUGH!
Class: [Laughing, turning in their seats, excitedly talking to each other.]
Serial Killer: [Puts scissors down next to partially graded spelling tests. Claps twice.] Hocus Pocus!
Class: Everybody focus!
Serial Killer: I thought I told you to go to timeout? No one has permission to use the water fountain right now.
First Grader 2: But my mouth is sticky from the tape.
[Class laughs.]
Serial Killer: Timeout. Now. Or do I have to call Grandm...
[Bell rings.]
Serial Killer: [Closes eyes. Sighs.] Line Leader, get the clipboard. Everyone line up for lunch. | 3:32 a.m., Friday, September, 21, 2017:
This couldn’t be right. He couldn’t believe it. Mark Shostakovich laid in the bottom bunk of his sticker covered bunkbed, in his dimly lit, shit hole of a bedroom. The light of the mysterious TI-84 calculator gleaming into his eyes, he squinted into the screen in disbelief:
“Lauren”
“This can’t be right,” he muttered to himself with a dry, shaky voice. The mysterious force that he had put all of his faith into wanted him to brutally rape and murder the only person that he had ever genuinely cared for, but why?
— | |
[WP] You are a Serial Killer who follows a special math equation to determine who your next victim should be. Your latest victim points out a flaw in how you solve the equation. | "So you see here, you forgot to carry the seven. You should actually be murdering my co-worker Debbie right now."
"Ahhh, but you see my sweetling, the equation is not used to actually determine my victim, its purpose is to find anyone smart enough to correct my mistakes and eliminate them until one day i am the smartest person in the world! Muahahahahahahahaha!!"
*Bang*
*Thud* | 3:32 a.m., Friday, September, 21, 2017:
This couldn’t be right. He couldn’t believe it. Mark Shostakovich laid in the bottom bunk of his sticker covered bunkbed, in his dimly lit, shit hole of a bedroom. The light of the mysterious TI-84 calculator gleaming into his eyes, he squinted into the screen in disbelief:
“Lauren”
“This can’t be right,” he muttered to himself with a dry, shaky voice. The mysterious force that he had put all of his faith into wanted him to brutally rape and murder the only person that he had ever genuinely cared for, but why?
— | |
[WP] You are a Serial Killer who follows a special math equation to determine who your next victim should be. Your latest victim points out a flaw in how you solve the equation. | It was in that moment that this man saw through my game and I realized that it’s not about the math, I just like killing people. He pointed out that the equation really doesn’t go anywhere and that my understanding of what I thought it did really has no mathematical basis. I still sawed off his head for making me feel dumb. Asshole. | How do you define justice? Emotions only impede. Intent is irrelevant of outcome. Outcome. Who dies and who survives. The rationale of justice is easily surmised by nothing more than a simple impassive equation. Retribution is rational. All equilibrium's exist under stringent parameters with no room for rogue anomalies. Circumstance is but nuance and numbers will have none of it. Perfect, logical harmony.
''I am the square. No negatives survive me. I laugh sometimes, haha. A little joke of mine. And people said maths isnt fun. Silly. You can laugh to if you like. Come, on Terry. Laugh.''
I panned over to the man tied to the chair. Masking tape over his mouth. His face, deadpan. Suddenly rage filled my sides as I clenched, white knuckled at the carving knife. ''Are you sure?" I said venomously, eyes narrowed to slits, froth foaming at the corners of my lips.
Tears began to fall down his cheeks as he managed to scrape out a muffled hysteria behind the gaffe.
''Maths is fun, see!'' I wiped the froth from the corners of my mouth, smiling as if we were old friends. ''You see Terry, I developed the perfect algorithm. A program actually, that can masquerade as an 8 year old girl. Teehee. I may be a little more mature see. Terry. TERRY. LOOK AT ME.'' Cupping my nipples. ''Do you like them Terry?"
Terry continued to cry, more frantic now though. Eyes popping at the seams. The realization was there. It always was. Usually they broke down and wept as they succumbed to their fate, although Terry had not seemed to capitulate just yet. No matter. He soon would.
"That's some spirit there still Terry. Owh if I was just an 8 year old girl!"
***
He began to moisten his nipples with my blood from the knife he'd used to incapacitate me. He massaged them in my direction. My sides ached, I was losing blood quickly. "Terry", is this what you would have done? He pressed his chest to my face. ''Terry? What were you going to do next?'' His hands slunk past my side, red fingers fell past my waistband. ''Terry! As hard as my homework!'' He was wearing a school dress as he straddled my thigh.
"Thhhhiiiiiis issss aaaaa misssunderrrrstandinggg.'' I screamed as his fingers held me. The soft scraping of nipples against tape the only other sound in the room bar my whimpering. ''Its okay'' he started saying. "Im here''. He started pashing the obstruction on my mouth, rolling his thighs into me. ''Youre right about one thing Terry, this would be much easier if I was petite, Teehee.''
"Thhheeeee Algorithmmmmmm"
He stopped dead. Hands coming to my throat. ''What of it? Terry? Dont blaspheme my numbers Terry.'' His manic grin replaced that of the ecstasy displayed moments before. He took hold of the knife and lowered it towards my groin. "Terry, speak carefully.'' He ripped the tape from my mouth. "Well, dont tell me you just wanted a kiss Terry?'' he said as he puckered his lips playfully.
His head moved in, ''The algorithm!" I screamed. ''You've mad a mistake! I am not who you think I am! I find kids to warn them! I was trying to help!''
"Terry, Terry, Terry. Tut, tut, tut."Do you think I would believe something so foolish?" He rested a finger at the corner of his mouth and began to giggle coyly. And why should I believe you Terry? My equation is perfect, It would detect sympathy Mr T, Teehee." He winked at me. Pressing the knife against me. "Whats this! A little snakey? Feigned horror lit his face and searing pain pressed into my groin as the knife rolled through me with little resistance''. ''T...h......e.......d...r....a..w.'' was all I managed before fainting to a melodious ''Teehee''.
***
The draw. I sighed as I lobbed the pint sized piece of flesh onto the floor. ''And with that, youll touch children no more!'' With a grin from ear to ear, what did you want to show me my Terry dear. I made my way over to the desk and emptied the contents of the draw. Keys, pens, pencils...ah, a photo album.
***
I awoke in the chair. Blood everywhere. I was unbound. Aphoto album propped on my lap. I looked down. Photos of smiling kids. Kids that I had saved. I looked around the room, the maniac lay in a pool of his own blood on the floor. A guilt stricken expression marred his lifeless face. Relief surged amidst pain. I saw a familiar piece of flesh on the floor and winced. No matter. Photos of myself and children smiling, kids that I had saved. I turned the page a few more times. The smiles faded, giving way to bruises and bonds. A wild cackle began to escape my lips as I thumbed the images. ''Saved for my own depravity!'' I laughed wildly. ''To think she was an algorithm! Numbers are impassive. Tears fell from his cheeks as he spat at the corpse, amidst fits of laughter. "But youre not!'' he cackled as he started to descend towards the basement. There was murmur below. ''Its okay now kids, hes gone''. Crying started near the stairway amidst wild groans. ''Its all okay now kids'', he grinned, ''Daddys home''.
| |
[WP] You are a Serial Killer who follows a special math equation to determine who your next victim should be. Your latest victim points out a flaw in how you solve the equation. | Serial Killer: Two! Four! Six! Eight! Who do I eviscerate? One! Three! Five! Seven! I'll cut you and you'll go to heave... Wait, why is your hand raised? I said no more questions!
First Grader 1: But you forgot nine.
[Class laughs through their decorative, zebra-striped duct tape covered mouths.]
Serial Killer: What?
First Grader 1: You forgot nine, Miss.
Serial Killer: [Still confused.]
First Grader 2: [Duct tape partially loose.] Nine! In the poem... You stopped at seven, see? [Points to number line above the board at the front of the room.]
Serial Killer: [Brandishing safety scissors.] Goddamnit! You didn't raise your hand, and I didn't call on you.
Class: [Through loosening duct tape.] Oooooooooo!
Serial Killer: Why is the tape coming off?!
First Grader 3: You didn't... [Raises hand.]
Serial Killer: Thank you. What?
First Grader 3: You didn't use enough tape.
Serial Killer: What do you mean, I didn't use enough tape? I gave you each a piece big enough to cover your mouth. I'm not made of tape. I have to buy these supplies with my own money.
First Grader 2: We know...
Serial Killer: Go to timeout! Right fucking now!
Class: [Tape fully off of everyone now.] OOOOOOOOOO!
Serial Killer: ENOUGH!
Class: [Laughing, turning in their seats, excitedly talking to each other.]
Serial Killer: [Puts scissors down next to partially graded spelling tests. Claps twice.] Hocus Pocus!
Class: Everybody focus!
Serial Killer: I thought I told you to go to timeout? No one has permission to use the water fountain right now.
First Grader 2: But my mouth is sticky from the tape.
[Class laughs.]
Serial Killer: Timeout. Now. Or do I have to call Grandm...
[Bell rings.]
Serial Killer: [Closes eyes. Sighs.] Line Leader, get the clipboard. Everyone line up for lunch. | How do you define justice? Emotions only impede. Intent is irrelevant of outcome. Outcome. Who dies and who survives. The rationale of justice is easily surmised by nothing more than a simple impassive equation. Retribution is rational. All equilibrium's exist under stringent parameters with no room for rogue anomalies. Circumstance is but nuance and numbers will have none of it. Perfect, logical harmony.
''I am the square. No negatives survive me. I laugh sometimes, haha. A little joke of mine. And people said maths isnt fun. Silly. You can laugh to if you like. Come, on Terry. Laugh.''
I panned over to the man tied to the chair. Masking tape over his mouth. His face, deadpan. Suddenly rage filled my sides as I clenched, white knuckled at the carving knife. ''Are you sure?" I said venomously, eyes narrowed to slits, froth foaming at the corners of my lips.
Tears began to fall down his cheeks as he managed to scrape out a muffled hysteria behind the gaffe.
''Maths is fun, see!'' I wiped the froth from the corners of my mouth, smiling as if we were old friends. ''You see Terry, I developed the perfect algorithm. A program actually, that can masquerade as an 8 year old girl. Teehee. I may be a little more mature see. Terry. TERRY. LOOK AT ME.'' Cupping my nipples. ''Do you like them Terry?"
Terry continued to cry, more frantic now though. Eyes popping at the seams. The realization was there. It always was. Usually they broke down and wept as they succumbed to their fate, although Terry had not seemed to capitulate just yet. No matter. He soon would.
"That's some spirit there still Terry. Owh if I was just an 8 year old girl!"
***
He began to moisten his nipples with my blood from the knife he'd used to incapacitate me. He massaged them in my direction. My sides ached, I was losing blood quickly. "Terry", is this what you would have done? He pressed his chest to my face. ''Terry? What were you going to do next?'' His hands slunk past my side, red fingers fell past my waistband. ''Terry! As hard as my homework!'' He was wearing a school dress as he straddled my thigh.
"Thhhhiiiiiis issss aaaaa misssunderrrrstandinggg.'' I screamed as his fingers held me. The soft scraping of nipples against tape the only other sound in the room bar my whimpering. ''Its okay'' he started saying. "Im here''. He started pashing the obstruction on my mouth, rolling his thighs into me. ''Youre right about one thing Terry, this would be much easier if I was petite, Teehee.''
"Thhheeeee Algorithmmmmmm"
He stopped dead. Hands coming to my throat. ''What of it? Terry? Dont blaspheme my numbers Terry.'' His manic grin replaced that of the ecstasy displayed moments before. He took hold of the knife and lowered it towards my groin. "Terry, speak carefully.'' He ripped the tape from my mouth. "Well, dont tell me you just wanted a kiss Terry?'' he said as he puckered his lips playfully.
His head moved in, ''The algorithm!" I screamed. ''You've mad a mistake! I am not who you think I am! I find kids to warn them! I was trying to help!''
"Terry, Terry, Terry. Tut, tut, tut."Do you think I would believe something so foolish?" He rested a finger at the corner of his mouth and began to giggle coyly. And why should I believe you Terry? My equation is perfect, It would detect sympathy Mr T, Teehee." He winked at me. Pressing the knife against me. "Whats this! A little snakey? Feigned horror lit his face and searing pain pressed into my groin as the knife rolled through me with little resistance''. ''T...h......e.......d...r....a..w.'' was all I managed before fainting to a melodious ''Teehee''.
***
The draw. I sighed as I lobbed the pint sized piece of flesh onto the floor. ''And with that, youll touch children no more!'' With a grin from ear to ear, what did you want to show me my Terry dear. I made my way over to the desk and emptied the contents of the draw. Keys, pens, pencils...ah, a photo album.
***
I awoke in the chair. Blood everywhere. I was unbound. Aphoto album propped on my lap. I looked down. Photos of smiling kids. Kids that I had saved. I looked around the room, the maniac lay in a pool of his own blood on the floor. A guilt stricken expression marred his lifeless face. Relief surged amidst pain. I saw a familiar piece of flesh on the floor and winced. No matter. Photos of myself and children smiling, kids that I had saved. I turned the page a few more times. The smiles faded, giving way to bruises and bonds. A wild cackle began to escape my lips as I thumbed the images. ''Saved for my own depravity!'' I laughed wildly. ''To think she was an algorithm! Numbers are impassive. Tears fell from his cheeks as he spat at the corpse, amidst fits of laughter. "But youre not!'' he cackled as he started to descend towards the basement. There was murmur below. ''Its okay now kids, hes gone''. Crying started near the stairway amidst wild groans. ''Its all okay now kids'', he grinned, ''Daddys home''.
| |
[WP] You are a Serial Killer who follows a special math equation to determine who your next victim should be. Your latest victim points out a flaw in how you solve the equation. | "So you see here, you forgot to carry the seven. You should actually be murdering my co-worker Debbie right now."
"Ahhh, but you see my sweetling, the equation is not used to actually determine my victim, its purpose is to find anyone smart enough to correct my mistakes and eliminate them until one day i am the smartest person in the world! Muahahahahahahahaha!!"
*Bang*
*Thud* | How do you define justice? Emotions only impede. Intent is irrelevant of outcome. Outcome. Who dies and who survives. The rationale of justice is easily surmised by nothing more than a simple impassive equation. Retribution is rational. All equilibrium's exist under stringent parameters with no room for rogue anomalies. Circumstance is but nuance and numbers will have none of it. Perfect, logical harmony.
''I am the square. No negatives survive me. I laugh sometimes, haha. A little joke of mine. And people said maths isnt fun. Silly. You can laugh to if you like. Come, on Terry. Laugh.''
I panned over to the man tied to the chair. Masking tape over his mouth. His face, deadpan. Suddenly rage filled my sides as I clenched, white knuckled at the carving knife. ''Are you sure?" I said venomously, eyes narrowed to slits, froth foaming at the corners of my lips.
Tears began to fall down his cheeks as he managed to scrape out a muffled hysteria behind the gaffe.
''Maths is fun, see!'' I wiped the froth from the corners of my mouth, smiling as if we were old friends. ''You see Terry, I developed the perfect algorithm. A program actually, that can masquerade as an 8 year old girl. Teehee. I may be a little more mature see. Terry. TERRY. LOOK AT ME.'' Cupping my nipples. ''Do you like them Terry?"
Terry continued to cry, more frantic now though. Eyes popping at the seams. The realization was there. It always was. Usually they broke down and wept as they succumbed to their fate, although Terry had not seemed to capitulate just yet. No matter. He soon would.
"That's some spirit there still Terry. Owh if I was just an 8 year old girl!"
***
He began to moisten his nipples with my blood from the knife he'd used to incapacitate me. He massaged them in my direction. My sides ached, I was losing blood quickly. "Terry", is this what you would have done? He pressed his chest to my face. ''Terry? What were you going to do next?'' His hands slunk past my side, red fingers fell past my waistband. ''Terry! As hard as my homework!'' He was wearing a school dress as he straddled my thigh.
"Thhhhiiiiiis issss aaaaa misssunderrrrstandinggg.'' I screamed as his fingers held me. The soft scraping of nipples against tape the only other sound in the room bar my whimpering. ''Its okay'' he started saying. "Im here''. He started pashing the obstruction on my mouth, rolling his thighs into me. ''Youre right about one thing Terry, this would be much easier if I was petite, Teehee.''
"Thhheeeee Algorithmmmmmm"
He stopped dead. Hands coming to my throat. ''What of it? Terry? Dont blaspheme my numbers Terry.'' His manic grin replaced that of the ecstasy displayed moments before. He took hold of the knife and lowered it towards my groin. "Terry, speak carefully.'' He ripped the tape from my mouth. "Well, dont tell me you just wanted a kiss Terry?'' he said as he puckered his lips playfully.
His head moved in, ''The algorithm!" I screamed. ''You've mad a mistake! I am not who you think I am! I find kids to warn them! I was trying to help!''
"Terry, Terry, Terry. Tut, tut, tut."Do you think I would believe something so foolish?" He rested a finger at the corner of his mouth and began to giggle coyly. And why should I believe you Terry? My equation is perfect, It would detect sympathy Mr T, Teehee." He winked at me. Pressing the knife against me. "Whats this! A little snakey? Feigned horror lit his face and searing pain pressed into my groin as the knife rolled through me with little resistance''. ''T...h......e.......d...r....a..w.'' was all I managed before fainting to a melodious ''Teehee''.
***
The draw. I sighed as I lobbed the pint sized piece of flesh onto the floor. ''And with that, youll touch children no more!'' With a grin from ear to ear, what did you want to show me my Terry dear. I made my way over to the desk and emptied the contents of the draw. Keys, pens, pencils...ah, a photo album.
***
I awoke in the chair. Blood everywhere. I was unbound. Aphoto album propped on my lap. I looked down. Photos of smiling kids. Kids that I had saved. I looked around the room, the maniac lay in a pool of his own blood on the floor. A guilt stricken expression marred his lifeless face. Relief surged amidst pain. I saw a familiar piece of flesh on the floor and winced. No matter. Photos of myself and children smiling, kids that I had saved. I turned the page a few more times. The smiles faded, giving way to bruises and bonds. A wild cackle began to escape my lips as I thumbed the images. ''Saved for my own depravity!'' I laughed wildly. ''To think she was an algorithm! Numbers are impassive. Tears fell from his cheeks as he spat at the corpse, amidst fits of laughter. "But youre not!'' he cackled as he started to descend towards the basement. There was murmur below. ''Its okay now kids, hes gone''. Crying started near the stairway amidst wild groans. ''Its all okay now kids'', he grinned, ''Daddys home''.
| |
[WP] You are a Serial Killer who follows a special math equation to determine who your next victim should be. Your latest victim points out a flaw in how you solve the equation. | "I don't expect you to understand me." He told me, almost whispering it into my ears.
"I'm a man of science. And science without usage might as well be religion. It's paramount that any equation of every generation, any law of every times find an appropriate use for it. Otherwise it is no smarter than a doodle on a toddler's floor.
I have to admit, I stumbled across the equation. I wasn't even looking for it. But there it was, the algorithm necessary for the perfect murder. No one would find me or suspect me as long as it is all within this equation. It's too long and too complicated to explain, so why don't you just take my word for it.
You seem scared. That's understandable. But don't worry. This time you have to be poisoned. Last guy had to suffocate in carbon monoxide, imagine that. Put that way, you at least have it easy. One little pill and it's goodbye cruel world. No pain, no loss.
Don't be. Really. Don't be scared. It hurts you as much as it hurts me. Literally, because it's not gonna hurt at all. And when you think about it, doesn't Newton's Third Law dictate that I have to receive as much force as you give me?
...Huh. That's a new reaction. Why are you shaking your head? You're not scared? No, no, you are. But that's not why you're bothered.
Ah, I see. You're curious. I could spot a scientist's eyes from anywhere. It really does pain me to have to take a fellow truth-seeker's life, it does.
Well, here it is."
He pulled out the whiteboards into the frame of light. There it was, the longest calculation I have ever laid eyes on. It easily filled the entirety of three separate boards. No calculations either, just the equation. The method itself was complicated enough to burn my brains, let alone the calculations that have led him to me and my apartment, my name and my occupation.
"And there you have it. Sarah Asimov Munn. Nice middle name, by the way. That is your name, right?"
I debated for a second, and nodded.
"So there we have it. Well, it's about time then..."
But upon looking at my expression once again, his gleeful smile disappeared. He paused with the syringe inches from my arm. "What's with your eyes? You still look confused. No, puzzled? No, uncertain? What is it?"
I tried to speak, but my voice only muffled under the sock stuffed into my mouth. He hesitated for a minute and took the sock off my mouth.
"What is it?"
I took a few moment to catch my breath and regain my voice. After having waited patiently, he listened to my bewilderment.
"Is that a 1 or a 7?"
I have never seen a color drain out of someone's face that quickly. He turned back at the whiteboard in horror, his hands shaking and his legs trembling.
"Wait, hold on, where..."
He looked around for where I was talking about and stopped. And for the briefest moment, the empty basement was dead as the moment of big bang.
Without a word, he relaxed his body. His tremors have stopped and his breaths have stabilized, but his face was out of the light's reach. I quietly watched as he walked out into the darkness and closed the door behind him.
And a few moments later–
A chilling shiver went down my spine. That was, without a doubt, sound of a gunshot. I had to wait a little to see a line of blood tricking down the floor.
"Hello?" I called out, to no answer. I yelled again, to make absolute certain, and sighed in relief. With a careful stretch, I grabbed the syringe and worked on my bounds. After a long and patient lock-picking session, I stood from the chair.
Carefully, I approached the door and found in relief that it was still open. On the other side was the body that used to be the host of the soul of my grim reaper. There lay a man smarter than any of his time, perhaps. There lay a man whose brilliance was only matched by his insanity.
And I remembered the one line of mistake that had led him terribly astray.
Sin(7π).
"What a fucking idiot," I muttered, leaving the body of the dumbest man I have ever met to rot into oblivion. | My serial killer equation: 1+1=2.
I kill one stranger. Then I kill another. And that makes two dead people.
The only problem is that when I went on a two person kayak trip I killed the person with me...
That meant the only other person to kill in order to add up to two.......was......me........ | |
[WP] A poem that starts very romantic and becomes trashier and trashier as it goes on. | You, only you are my desire
the one who fills my heart with fire
passion, unbridled
pure, undefiled,
just as I hope you are my dear,
or less than five, but let's be clear
the opposite applies to me
for that's how I'll make you happy
with fancy skills I learned before
pounding nameless bodies on distant shores
They're all forgot! I swear my dear
I'll pine for no one else (this year)
But perhaps one day you'll gently whisper:
Is it all right if we invite my sister? | I can see you with my eyes closed.
Your hair, almond eyes, and your pale cheeks after a kiss, so subtly rosed
The smooth velvet of your voice whispering little love you’s
It’s springtime in my heart, I feel brand new
You are the zenith of joy, brighter than new chrome rims
Hotter than a V8 engine or a pair of swedish twins.
I would do anything for the love between us.
To make you smile, to shield you from hurt, to give you deez nuts.
Shall I count the ways I would slay.
Nay, there are too many, but know I’m down for foreplay.
To suck on your toes and let you whip me around.
I ain’t even afraid to get my nose a lil’ browned.
So c’mon baby what do ya say?
Marry me, and we’ll treat each other to an all-you-can-eat buffet.
|
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