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[WP] "Ugh! Why is it that all these magical lands have dark lords threatening to take over?" | A gigantic rainbow portal opened over a lush green field and a gleaming white dragon fell out.
The hill-sized dragon kicked up a huge storm as it fell onto the field. Leaves and branches were whipped from trees and carts and wagons were sent flying. The dragon came to a rest on its back, unmoving.
After the winds died off, a brave farmer mounted his horse and approached the barn-sized head of the beast. There was a smell of tilled-earth in the air as he drew close, and his horse whinnied as it had to climb up and down big fractured mounds of earth, kicked up from the dragon's landing. As he broke through the dust, he could see that the dragon's eyes were open.
"I just wanted to retire," the great drake rumbled. "I'm just so tired." It fixed its wagon-sized, golden eye on the farmer and asked, "Do you ever get tired?"
"Ah," replied the farmer eloquently. "Well, yes, I suppose. I get pretty tired round nightfall after a hard day's work."
The horse-sized pupil of the dragon's eye narrowed, "Not that kind of tired. I mean tired of doing the same thing over and over?"
The farmer lifted his hat and scratched his head. "Well, not terribly I suppose. I've been farming and my father's been farming since before the new river flowed through the village. So I don't really get tired of that. Honest work, it is. It's nice to have something you can rely on." The farmer gave a single, smart nod at this old wisdom.
The dragon considered this, then let out a huge exhale, kicking up loose debris, blowing waves across the grass, filling the air with the smell before a storm. "Well I do. I get tired of the same thing every time!"
With that last word, the massive creature lifted itself up into the air and rotated, landing gently on it's house-sized feet. The winds howled about it for a few moments.
Finally calm returned to the air. The dragon gazed at the soon-to-be-setting sun, then back to the farmer. "For example, I'm just passing through your plane, but if I had to venture a guess I would bet that you have some turmoil going on in your land. Am I right?" The dragon rotated its mammoth face to look directly at the horse and rider below it.
"Well yes sir, indeed you're right. We got ourselves a real problem with an invasion from..." The farmer had a haunted look on his face. "The dark one."
The dragon rolled its huge eyes like two capsizing boats and bellowed, "SEE! See what I mean!" It placed one gigantic, clawed hand over its face and pounded the ground with the other. The earth shook mightily and the farmer was almost thrown from his horse by the great creature's moping.
"Ugh! Why is it that all these magical lands have dark lords threatening to take over?"
"Er," the farmer interrupted as the convulsions of the earth faded away. "We call him the 'Dark One', not the 'Dark Lord'. See, the 'Dark Lord' was actually vanquished three ages ago by...uh, excuse me great and mighty dragon, but are you crying?"
The dragon was sobbing quietly, which meant just a gentle vibration in the ground and only minor tremors of the earth.
The farmer didn't know what to say. He felt like he should try something soothing. "Er, what's wrong there big guy? You can still call him Dark Lord if you like - people will know what you mean."
"No," The dragon sniffed, causing a thunderclap to echo through the valley. "I don't want to call him Dark Lord." The dragon stood upright, scanning the horizon. "I don't want to fight him for thirty days in airborne combat. Ah," the dragon pointed to the distance, "There's his palace over there with all the lightning." He dropped his arm to his side and continued, "But I'm just done. I'm not going over to another Dark Lord, Dark One, Dark Whatever's! palace or land."
An moment of awkward, tremendous silence passed between the speck of a farmer and the massive white dragon.
The farmer broke the silence, "Well then don't fight him. I think the emperor's got a wizard and a party already heading out there to fight the Dark One - they'll probably handle it just fine, you know."
The dragon huffed, blowing two fiery smoke rings from it's cave-sized nostrils. "You're kind, little rider, but the portal knows when I'm needed on a plane and it always plops me down, right when I'm needed most."
The farmer thought about this for a moment, "So you mean you never get a break?"
"Precisely," the dragon confirmed.
"Well that ain't right." The farmer got down off his horse and approached the church-sized foot of the skyscraping dragon. "You know, I'm a hard worker as any, but even I know that you got to give a horse or a man a break now and then. And a dragon!"
The dragon raised an eyebrow and looked down at the farmer, expectantly.
"well a Dragon's got to need tons more rest, especially with the work they do. Say, how long has it been since you've had a break anyhow?"
The dragon watched the now-setting sun, "I think about ten thousand years. That's when they first summoned me, the 'eternal-white', to fight the evils of the planes until the final battle at time's end."
"Time's end!" exclaimed the farmer. "Ten thousand years? That ain't right. That ain't good, that's evil if I've ever seen it?"
The dragon was caught off guard by that word, "Evil? You think it was evil that they summoned me for this task?"
"Well, not giving you a break from it at least. A break would do you good."
"Good," repeated the dragon. "Good, not evil. Yes." The dragon lifted up his chest and took a good fresh breath of thousands of cubic meters of air. "You know what, I think I've earned a break. They can handle this on their own this one time!"
"Yes!" said the farmer, pumping his fists in the air. "You deserve it oh great eternal one! Go take a breather."
And the great white-eternal dragon turned his back on the streaks of lightning and ghoulish howls from the northern mountains and headed south to the hot springs and islands of this plane. | Edit: I'd like to apologize so very deeply to the people who had to read the previous version of this. I've editted it now and hopefully it's more readable.
“Urgh! Why is it that all these magic lands have dark lords that want to rule over?!” You shout at the old withered man sitting on a throne three times bigger than him. You were just minding your own business when you were grabbed by a bunch of soldiers for whatever reason and dragged here. This was getting old, you just wanted to ride dragons, slay the occasional danger beast and enjoy the scenery (and maybe meet someone nice to share all the adventures with...)
The old withered man, King Mador, stared at you in disbelief. "I am the only king here! I rule over all that the eye can see and more!" He meekly bellowed while attempting to stand up from that ridiculously oversized armchair. One of his goons or assistant or whatever they called it here gave him a hand, you sigh in exasperation waiting for the usual tirade.
"My name is King Mador, son of King Julian, son of the great establishing Emperor. My grandfather has led many in battle and has come back victorious, conquering many land and bringing peace and order to the savage lands.-!.."
"...Without him anarchy would be rampant?" You cut him off mid-sentence, with a questioning tone.
Mador is taken aback, that was just what he was about to say...
"Yeah yeah yeah...I heard it all before Mador my pal. But tell me? You ever met that great conquering emperor? You ever seen him with your eyes?"
"What..." Mutters the old man, trying to think back, digging to the beginning of his memories...
Madoro buddy, you gotta stop the evil over lord stuff. Aren't you getting too old for that? You can stop acting now, it's (you're) getting old, you should think about retirement. Isn't there a nice lil cottage near the sea you can go to and relax, take life a day at a time, do all the things you've always wanted to do like 3000 pieces puzzles or fishing or something? You lean forward as much as the guards will allow and look directly at the king.
King Mador can’t help but stare at you. What is that peculiarly dressed individual rambling on about? Acting? Retirement? Yes it’s true that coming up with a new tax name, arranging for collections, quelling rises in rebellion, organising retribution had been more tiring this time around, he had to admit...and he didn't even know what to do with all the stuff he'd taxed! He didn't even need it...but that's his job...isn’t it? That's what he's got to do. He's the over lord after all!
You cut off Mador's train of thought: "Naah! Mador. Seriously, you don't have to do all this! Really! You can just leave the people alone and ride your horse or carriage and go get some fresh air by the sea."
"Really?" Said the king quietly with a heavy dose of disbelief before he could compose himself, he's looking at you with a look you're all too familiar with. You're getting through to him, he's not too stupid, the “evil over lord” this time round...
He clears his throat, stands up straight and does that weird tiny steps going nowhere people do when they're trying to regain their composure, "are you telling me I can just leave everything right now? Up and leave?"
"Sure! It might be hard to believe but the villagers aren't really depending on your oppression too much you know? They might be a bit lost at the beginning with the lack of overbearing fear, indiscriminative injustice and rampant corruption but humans adapt real quick!" You say brightly with a huge smile. "Dontchu worry Madororo! Let me tell you sum'in real quick." You look expectantly at the king who is staring at you intently, waiting to hear more. You turn to the guards holding you by the arms with an eyebrow raised. Their faces are pretty golden too, they look to the king, then to you, then back to the king and just...let you go...haha, as expected!. You brush yourself off, straighten your collar and strut up the stairs to the befuddled king, lean over to his ear..."this is all acting and you ain't even getting paid for this! How about that eh?!?" you add a friendly pat on the shoulder to illustrate your point and splatter a huge grin on your face as you move back to look at the king.
The king? What king? There’s just an old man sitting on the edge of a gigantic chair with way too many emotions playing across his face, you worry he might just go pop and blow a fuse, but no finally his face settles on one expression -what is it? Ecstasy? You don't really care, you just know that that face means the king is going to be out in 3...2...OUF! Your ribcage is suddenly crushed by an uncharacteristically strong hug from the old man, he throws his crown off, unties his cape, chucks his stick thing on that annoyingly gigantic chair (that thing could fit ten people easy and the colour is really strange...) and slides down the steps " IM FREE!" He shouts in delight! “I’m off! I've always wanted to rear chickens! Chickens are great! They lay eggs and they eat grain, the babies are so fluffy and then you can eat them and they wake you up in the morning I LOVE CHICKENS!" you stare in amused disbelief at this new man who really loves chicken and is walking away with a new spring in his step " HAVE FUN!!" you shout after him waving enthusiastically, " IM GOING TO HAVE CHICKENS" he turns around one more time, waves back so hard you wonder if he'll dislocate his shoulder and walks out the royal hall.
Heh... you can’t help but grin. That went pretty well. You stand there hands on hips and take a look around the room. Soldiers, advisors, servants or whatever are all standing there with their mouth agape. It’s going to take them a moment or five to process what just happened...who can blame them?
It’s my first time posting and I'm not really a writer... Any feedback is most welcome.
| |
[WP] No one is having kids. People grow up and die off with no new children conceived. The years go on as the population dwindles to a million, a thousand, the final hundred, and now the last three. You are a part of this last 3 | It seemed odd for a while, that scientists who had tackled so many problems, couldn’t fix this one. After the great nuclear war triggered by those idiot politicians and their obsession with who had what and how much of it, the resulting fallout had rendered everyone sterile. No one could find a cure.
The generations died off. They tried recording as much of history in computers as possible in case somehow things restarted. But alas, now there’s not enough people to run the computers, or the power stations needed to keep them running. Only our memories remain of what was.
It’s now just Suki, myself, and Jorge left on the entire planet. So odd a feeling to have such vast emptiness where there used to be so many people. So many have died from radiation poisoning, cancer, and whatever else the nuclear poisons wrought. Those of us left remaining were the last born 40 years ago. It doesn’t seem fair that my body has resisted all of that for so long.
I walk over to where Suki sits, her once beautiful body now eaten away by the cancer. She smiles at me, and reaches up to hold my hand. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. We tried so hard, and there’s nothing more to do. Just let me go, please.” I bend down and kiss her tenderly, and walk away trying to hide my tears, knowing that in just a few hours, there will be only two of us left on the planet, with no hope other than to live out our remaining years in isolation.
My mind drifts back to the once familiar sounds of people working, talking, laughing. Children playing and running around, making so much noise. If only humanity had taken care of the planet. If only we had had more humility. If only ....
Suddenly, I hear a noise behind me. There are some strange looking creatures walking up to me. “We have no time. You must come now!”, they say to me. What ....? I ask. “We will explain all later. Move!” I pick up Suki and follow them onto their ship. As it take off, Jorge walks out of a room and smiles. “Welcome to our ship!” Two of the creatures take Suki from my arms and rush her off to another room, their voices murmuring in low, concerned tones.
Jorge explains: “My people are an advanced race of scientists. We travel through the galaxy helping save other planets from annihilating themselves, usually by placing key individuals in a position where they can influence society to reform and take up peaceful ways.
“Your planet proved to be a challenge that we vastly underestimated. Your leaders were arrogant and refused to be reasonable in any way. And then came your nuclear war, and the subsequent sterility that plagued the planet. We were so puzzled. A couple of generations, should have these peoblems, yes. But an entire planet? Every generation?
“Ten years ago, I was placed on the planet to study the situation up close. As people died, I copied their genomic structures and studied them. Finally, when we were ready to give up, we found it. The United States had rigged their nuclear devices with a bio weapon that was designed to sterilize a population via a subtle genetic mutation. It was one of the final acts of extreme arrogance of the leader of the time, probably because of his hatred for any other country on the planet. How he managed to convince scientists of his plan is truly a mystery. All records of this weapon and it’s use were wiped out.
“Two years ago, we found a cure. You were our test subject. We had to make sure it would counteract the effects of the radiation - scientific protocols and all that. Unfortunately, most of the remaining population died in those two years, so we had to rush things quite a bit. This ship was given orders to break the laws of space travel to reach you in time. (The mess we’ve created is going to take a while to fix, I’m afraid...).
“So, what next? Our people are working on Suki as we speak. It will take a few months but she will be ok. Our terraforming corps is going to fix the planet. That’s going to take a while ... your race has managed more destruction than we’ve seen since our own planet was almost destroyed 15,000 years ago. You and Suki are going to start rebuilding the population. Once you have your first baby, we will create a template for cloning based on your child and my genetic research on the planet.”
My head spins as I try to comprehend all of this. “Any chance I’m dreaming?” I ask. “Not at all,” he responds. He waves to one of his colleagues who gives me the impression of the alien version of a nurse. She leads me down the corridor to another room. There’s a bed, some food, and a drink that looks like orange juice and wood pulp were mixed together. “The drink will help with space sickness. Eat, drink, and rest. When you wake up, I’ll take you to see Suki.” | The waves led the sea, and the might of the wind, it's army to be sure, into our shores. I thought It was no coincidence that this assault came to the very island with the last 3 humans on a once great planet. I got up and walked to see Dee and John's body rushing like a torepedo into the rocks, and then pulling back like on a line a dozen feet out. The rain and gray skies ruined something, but I wasn't sure what. The sky wasn't just gray, it was the entire world that was gray. Even the rocks and sand and everything I could see with my own eyes were darkened. I watched their bodies float, and then when it seemed like they might tilt their heads up and look at me, they floated off into the nether and left me. I was alone now on Planet Earth. | |
[WP] It was well known that the Americans were using werewolves, and that the Germans and Soviets each had their own race of vampires to help them in WWII. Not many people knew of the secret Canadian platoon and their wendigo. | So, you want your dear old grandad to tell you about the war? Well, I suppose I could do that. What do you want me to tell you ‘bout? Landing at Omaha beach? Fighting on Iwo Jima? Perhaps even marching across the Alps into Italy? Oh, I know! I’ll tell you ‘bout the Wendigo. Yes, I know, we had the werewolves, such as myself, and the krauts and ruskies used the damn bloodsuckers. But our neighbors to the north? They used the Wendigo. I know what you’re wondering, “What’s a Wendigo?” Well, it’s a man who’s eaten human flesh, and who’s essentially been cursed because of it. I know today the Canucks have an image of being peaceful and friendly, but in the war, they were as brutal as the ANZACs at Gallipoli. You see, the Wendigo are as tall as a building, and have a constant taste for human flesh, a sort of never-ending blood rage. It took my entire squad to take just one down after he went rogue. And I know, if they had a constant hunger for human, how did they get transported? Well, you see, it was the Injuns who knew about the Wendigo first. They knew how to control the evil in the man, keep it at bay until need be, kind of like what I had to do. But enough about what they were like, I got an actual tale from battle.
It was bright an’ early. We were prepared to land on Gold, but anything could happen, especially considering we were one of the supernatural squads. Now as you heard me earlier, we didn’t land at Gold, but rather Omaha. That happened, because one of the Canucks went Wendigo in the craft, and knocked us off course. Because we didn’t know what to do, we just wolfed up the second we landed. I know this didn’t happen at night, but we were part of an experiment to control transformations better. As we blitzed the enemy, hehe, blitzed, I saw one of those Wendigo step on a bunker, pick up a radio operator, and munch on him as he went about crushing bunkers and knocking planes out of the sky. Later, we were in the Southeast of the country, when we got ambushed by some panzers. This would’ve been a problem, had a division of Canucks not gotten lost and been in the process of asking for directions. All of a sudden, three of the beasts ran at the tanks, and threw them, literally threw them, like they were toys, after emptying the crew into their mouths like they were candy.
Oop, looks that’s all the time we have right now kiddo. Now, don’t tell your momma that Grandpa Rudy was telling you this, she might not like you sneaking into our detention center. The government went through a lot to keep our location secret, and you could into real bad trouble. Git along, now, and tell your daddy I said hi!
You know Earnie, I still can’t believe my grandson is half-vampire. And not even my son knows my wife was a Wendigo. | June 5th 1944
My dearest Mary,
Good morning, my love. I am currently writing to you from the crows nest of lead ship of The Canadian Merchant Marine. We get our new orders in the morning but it appears we are on a humanitarian mission of sorts. Our ships cargo seems to be one large shipping container and a bulk amount of vegetables. I will mail this letter at the next port.
Warmest regards,
Winston | |
[WP] It was well known that the Americans were using werewolves, and that the Germans and Soviets each had their own race of vampires to help them in WWII. Not many people knew of the secret Canadian platoon and their wendigo. | No one spoke of it, but not because of ignorance. You might ask a local about the legend of the Wendigo and the quiet operations team who had dealed with it. But you wouldn't get an answer.
There's only one person who would tell you the story, but he was widely regarded as an insane man. Gerald was part of the opposing forces who'd encountered the Canadian platoon for the last time in records.
He would tell you of how his squad closed in and cornered the Canadians in a small make-shift camp, though the Canadians didn't know it. It was in the dead of the night, when humans slept and the owls hunted in silence.
They'd crept toward the camp. The little fire whispered and crackled to itself, illuminating the slumped and exhausted shapes of the Canadians. The man and his troop would not slaughter them just yet, but capture them for interrogation. And for the sins they'd committed against their people, they would inflict pain upon them until they'd wished they had been slaughtered in the night.
As they took a step forward, something came over Gerald and his troop. It was as if the world had been muffled. The light from the moon and stars seemed to be swallowed away from the sky, the silvery light in the woods seemed to shrink in until all that could be seen was what was lit by the little campfire.
And they felt something enter the camp enclosure.
One of the men in the group raised his rifle and cried out involuntarily, and then they all saw it. An impossibly tall and thin thing was among the sleeping Canadians, dark as dusk. Its features were dim in the sleepy campfire, and the only thing visible upon its face were it's eyes. And it saw them.
They fired on it in a panic. It didn't move. The realization that they were powerless sank in as the rifle smoke hung in the windless air; the rifle shots did not echo. The Canadians still slept.
The thing spoke. It's voice was an ancient one, the words were spoken as if through a rotted shroud.
Gerald didn't remember what it said, except that all the men in his
team became rigid, their eyes wide. The thing tilted its head forward as it continued to speak ageless things, and its impossible rack of antlers glowed in the residual fire light. It seemed to grow and stretch over the stars and a horrific dream fog wrested hold over Gerald.
Gerald awoke in the campsite the next morning. His troop was gone, and there was no sign of the Canadian operations team. There was no fire, no ash, none of the leaves had been disturbed. He found to civilization, and all of his team had disappeared and never returned. He was only left with the inclination to tell all about the thing he had seen, and the day he stopped, it would collect him too. | June 5th 1944
My dearest Mary,
Good morning, my love. I am currently writing to you from the crows nest of lead ship of The Canadian Merchant Marine. We get our new orders in the morning but it appears we are on a humanitarian mission of sorts. Our ships cargo seems to be one large shipping container and a bulk amount of vegetables. I will mail this letter at the next port.
Warmest regards,
Winston | |
[WP] It was well known that the Americans were using werewolves, and that the Germans and Soviets each had their own race of vampires to help them in WWII. Not many people knew of the secret Canadian platoon and their wendigo. | “Es ist kalt heute Nacht,” he said. It was cold, and the tiny fire they risked in the snow did little to help. And the colder it got the thinner the beans, the rarer and more precious the bits of pork.
The rest of them nodded. “Jah,” came one reply. It was hard not to hate in cold and hunger. Hard for an empty belly to sing the glories of the Reich. His damned empty belly.
He never remembered being so hungry. Even when father came home and muttered about that Jew shopkeeper and his mother scowled and started on another pot of sauerkraut soup. He could smell it now, out here, even when all the shit and rot and manpower stench on the wind would be killed by frost.
Those were the only blessings of the cold. The silence and the purity of it all. But he could not think it apart from his hunger.
Someone coughed. It brought him back to his small fire and his small companions and his huge hunger. He would kill it when the war was over, finally, when he no longer had to scavenge and barter, when the sausages hung uneaten, curing in great chains, draped like tinsel from the windows, and the sizzling pans of schnitzel were a symphony so common that they were drowned by beer fueled songs. He'd listen now, he'd kill every one around the fire to a man to hear that sizzling pan.
It didn't even seem like such a bad idea. These were not his brothers. They were some distant unlucky like himself, the leftovers from dead companies, beaten and sent to hold through the winter, hold against the dogs.
He felt a sting and looked down. Eyebrows raised a little around the fire. He'd been fingering his knife and somehow his hand closed around the blade, biting the flesh of his palm. A steady strem of blood ran down its length. He put his hand to his mouth. Warm, salty, but empty. He could not have his fill of his own life.
But these other men, what were they to him, what were they to the Reich but meat. Meat that gathered itself around the fire. So compliant that it waited to be cooked. Or not. Great mouthfuls of them. Filthy casings but fresh and soft innards. Sweet kidneys, could he tell if they were breaded and fried in butter that they were men? He was so hungry.
His clothing sagged around him, a gaunt form, the muscle of his arms wasted to sinew, but driven and hate ful sinew. He could eat. His coat sank into the hollow of a belly that had not seen a meal in so long he couldn't remember. Beans would not suffice. He would vomit them. He needed flesh. The pain in his hand was gone and he looked down to see it and it was whole and white and his knife was gone, forgotten in the dirt.
“ES IS KALT” he croaked. The other mend did not reply but stared. What was wrong with them? Were they not brothers? Did they not serve the Reich together? For glory and hunger. He could throttle them. Claw their necks and pluck their sweet eyes. He could finally eat. Gnashing, he leapt upon the first. | June 5th 1944
My dearest Mary,
Good morning, my love. I am currently writing to you from the crows nest of lead ship of The Canadian Merchant Marine. We get our new orders in the morning but it appears we are on a humanitarian mission of sorts. Our ships cargo seems to be one large shipping container and a bulk amount of vegetables. I will mail this letter at the next port.
Warmest regards,
Winston | |
[WP] It was well known that the Americans were using werewolves, and that the Germans and Soviets each had their own race of vampires to help them in WWII. Not many people knew of the secret Canadian platoon and their wendigo. | “Es ist kalt heute Nacht,” he said. It was cold, and the tiny fire they risked in the snow did little to help. And the colder it got the thinner the beans, the rarer and more precious the bits of pork.
The rest of them nodded. “Jah,” came one reply. It was hard not to hate in cold and hunger. Hard for an empty belly to sing the glories of the Reich. His damned empty belly.
He never remembered being so hungry. Even when father came home and muttered about that Jew shopkeeper and his mother scowled and started on another pot of sauerkraut soup. He could smell it now, out here, even when all the shit and rot and manpower stench on the wind would be killed by frost.
Those were the only blessings of the cold. The silence and the purity of it all. But he could not think it apart from his hunger.
Someone coughed. It brought him back to his small fire and his small companions and his huge hunger. He would kill it when the war was over, finally, when he no longer had to scavenge and barter, when the sausages hung uneaten, curing in great chains, draped like tinsel from the windows, and the sizzling pans of schnitzel were a symphony so common that they were drowned by beer fueled songs. He'd listen now, he'd kill every one around the fire to a man to hear that sizzling pan.
It didn't even seem like such a bad idea. These were not his brothers. They were some distant unlucky like himself, the leftovers from dead companies, beaten and sent to hold through the winter, hold against the dogs.
He felt a sting and looked down. Eyebrows raised a little around the fire. He'd been fingering his knife and somehow his hand closed around the blade, biting the flesh of his palm. A steady strem of blood ran down its length. He put his hand to his mouth. Warm, salty, but empty. He could not have his fill of his own life.
But these other men, what were they to him, what were they to the Reich but meat. Meat that gathered itself around the fire. So compliant that it waited to be cooked. Or not. Great mouthfuls of them. Filthy casings but fresh and soft innards. Sweet kidneys, could he tell if they were breaded and fried in butter that they were men? He was so hungry.
His clothing sagged around him, a gaunt form, the muscle of his arms wasted to sinew, but driven and hate ful sinew. He could eat. His coat sank into the hollow of a belly that had not seen a meal in so long he couldn't remember. Beans would not suffice. He would vomit them. He needed flesh. The pain in his hand was gone and he looked down to see it and it was whole and white and his knife was gone, forgotten in the dirt.
“ES IS KALT” he croaked. The other mend did not reply but stared. What was wrong with them? Were they not brothers? Did they not serve the Reich together? For glory and hunger. He could throttle them. Claw their necks and pluck their sweet eyes. He could finally eat. Gnashing, he leapt upon the first. | No one spoke of it, but not because of ignorance. You might ask a local about the legend of the Wendigo and the quiet operations team who had dealed with it. But you wouldn't get an answer.
There's only one person who would tell you the story, but he was widely regarded as an insane man. Gerald was part of the opposing forces who'd encountered the Canadian platoon for the last time in records.
He would tell you of how his squad closed in and cornered the Canadians in a small make-shift camp, though the Canadians didn't know it. It was in the dead of the night, when humans slept and the owls hunted in silence.
They'd crept toward the camp. The little fire whispered and crackled to itself, illuminating the slumped and exhausted shapes of the Canadians. The man and his troop would not slaughter them just yet, but capture them for interrogation. And for the sins they'd committed against their people, they would inflict pain upon them until they'd wished they had been slaughtered in the night.
As they took a step forward, something came over Gerald and his troop. It was as if the world had been muffled. The light from the moon and stars seemed to be swallowed away from the sky, the silvery light in the woods seemed to shrink in until all that could be seen was what was lit by the little campfire.
And they felt something enter the camp enclosure.
One of the men in the group raised his rifle and cried out involuntarily, and then they all saw it. An impossibly tall and thin thing was among the sleeping Canadians, dark as dusk. Its features were dim in the sleepy campfire, and the only thing visible upon its face were it's eyes. And it saw them.
They fired on it in a panic. It didn't move. The realization that they were powerless sank in as the rifle smoke hung in the windless air; the rifle shots did not echo. The Canadians still slept.
The thing spoke. It's voice was an ancient one, the words were spoken as if through a rotted shroud.
Gerald didn't remember what it said, except that all the men in his
team became rigid, their eyes wide. The thing tilted its head forward as it continued to speak ageless things, and its impossible rack of antlers glowed in the residual fire light. It seemed to grow and stretch over the stars and a horrific dream fog wrested hold over Gerald.
Gerald awoke in the campsite the next morning. His troop was gone, and there was no sign of the Canadian operations team. There was no fire, no ash, none of the leaves had been disturbed. He found to civilization, and all of his team had disappeared and never returned. He was only left with the inclination to tell all about the thing he had seen, and the day he stopped, it would collect him too. | |
[WP] It was well known that the Americans were using werewolves, and that the Germans and Soviets each had their own race of vampires to help them in WWII. Not many people knew of the secret Canadian platoon and their wendigo. | We all wanted to serve so desperately. We were unfit, but given an option. This unit only takes volunteers, and your lame leg or poor vision won’t matter.
A wendigo has no body of its own. It needs a vessel. It needs a host.
The first host had been Smith. He’d been nervous, but eager. I think he was curious about how the officers would live up to their promise to make him strong. The next time I saw him was D-Day. He had his own landing craft, slightly ahead of the others. When the ramp dropped a long-limbed thing burst out, rushing up the beach, impossibly fast. It wrenched itself into a bunker and then there were screams and an explosion.
The second in line had been Martin. One of the officers showed him into the bunker. There was a lot of shouting, and we were all pulled away by the rest of the officers. I didn’t seem him again until Caen.
We were pinned down by machine guns, and the officers had brought forward an armored truck. Martin scrambled out as soon as they opened it, and this time I got a close look. Every part of him was emaciated except his belly. The skin on his limbs and head was drawn tight, outlining his bones, but his belly bulged. He appeared to have been gnawing on his wrists.
Then he rushed forward, leaping from the ground through a third story window. It sounded like he was bursting through the walls of the old houses, and we saw him pounce on one of the machine gun teams from behind. He killed at least thirty before a lucky hit from a Pak 38 cored him like an apple.
After that was Taylor, who tore the head from a tank commander, dove through the hatch headfirst and tore apart the crew inside. A sherman had hit the tank seconds later, making mincemeat of him. Treblawny sprinted through a trench, killing as he ran, killing several dozen men before falling to sheer blood loss. Smith had dodged sniper fire until he got close enough to leap and knock the sniper from his tree, falling on top of him and burrowing into his chest with his fingernails. Smith had killed only two of the snipers who had ambushed us when he stepped on a landmine and lost his legs.
Now it was my turn. The officers took me to the chunks of bone and gristle that had been Smith. They reminded me, you wanted this, you volunteered for this, you've already made your choice.
I tore out a piece of his leg and began to chew. | “We’re surrounded here, tell that piece of shit Lieson to do it already,” shouted General Torrence into the comm set.
The encampment was surrounded by about 200 Nazis, with another 8 or so strigoi. “Of course they had to get the fucking Romanians involved,” muttered Albert Lieson as he received the frantic call. He stepped outside his tent at the back of the camp, and took off towards the shooting, leaping over the defenses. “About damn time,” the general shouted as he ran past.
About damn time, he thought to himself. Typical. Would he rather me rush everything? Does command want a repeat of the Thunder Bay incident? A Nazi soldier unloaded his Mauser into him, scattering his thoughts, but failing to leave a mark. Ignoring the shocked look on the youthful face, Lieson grinned as he leapt upon him. “Can I borrow this,” he snickered as he sunk his teeth into the young soldier’s bicep. “Thanks,” he said with a mouthful of flesh. He didn’t stop with the arm.
Within thirty seconds, the Nazi who had fired upon him was stripped to the bone. By this point, every other soldier in the Nazi attack party had turned their fire away from the camp, and toward him. The strigoi were still attacking the human Canadians, however. The Nazis began to get nervous as they realized their bullets were doing no damage, and a smile spread across Lieson’s bloodstained face. “They were almost too polite to bring me out,” he said as his smile stretched even further. Further than humanly possible. His skin began to pale. His torso grew taller, and his arms grew longer. Lieson didn’t speak after this awful transformation. His smile didn’t diminish, though.
Within seconds, the creature that had once been Albert Lieson tore into the soldiers. Arms, legs, and heads flew as if they were caught in a tornado. Intestines lay in tangled messes on the ground like fishing line. Horrified, a German managed to shout “wendi-“ into his comm set before a six inch long claw pierced his throat. Turning away from the mess of bodies, the wendigo approached the Canadian camp, passing dead strigoi on the way.
Two strigoi had a young soldier, a Calgary native, pinned to the ground. His throat was slit and his blood was freely flowing as the aberrations fed. The wendigo approached and tossed them off, impaling them on a nearby tree. “Please...kill me before it happens,” gurgled the young Canadian through a pool of blood. The wendigo lifted the head of his human comrade and put a claw through the back of his skull, severing his spinal cord and mercifully ending his life. Brutal, but a far easier fate than changing into a vampire.
The wendigo, drunk on blood, turned to the general with the same wide smile on his face. “Don’t you dare,” the general said as the creature approached him, claws outstretched. He began to chant an indigenous protection prayer, and the wendigo slowly transformed back into the human Albert Lieson. The man fell to the ground, unconscious, and the surviving Canadians breathed a sigh of relief. “
I really don’t like using him,” said a soldier to the general. “Nor do I,” General Torrence responded, “but how can we compare with vampires, and werewolves, and all the rest of God’s little mistakes?” “Sir, I thought the werewolves were American, they’re on our side,” asked the soldier. “For now, you’re right. After we win the war, though, who knows? I don’t think we should have started using these things in the first place,” said Torrence, more to himself than his second in command.
As the Canadians marched forward to meet up with an American camp in the Ardennes, they experience disturbingly little resistance. They had no way of knowing that something rather odd was afflicting those men. Scouts had noticed loud footfalls in the woods around their camp, with no discernible source. Three men had gone missing, their screams cut off abruptly, which let to a nonstop rotating four man watch at the edge of their camp. The forest, the wind itself, seemed to be against them. Something foreign that cause Hitler’s men to believe they were foreigners in their own country. Something that seemed to call out on the wind, “wen-di-go, wen-di-go.”
Albert Lieson slept in the back of a covered Jeep as the Canadian line marched to reinforce the Americans. A wendigo transformation always made his human form weary. When he was asleep, however, those constraints were gone. Nothing stopped the spirit of the wendigo while he was unconscious. He smiled in his sleep, for he knew that somewhere to the south, he was feasting on the flesh of more Nazis.
| |
[WP] It was well known that the Americans were using werewolves, and that the Germans and Soviets each had their own race of vampires to help them in WWII. Not many people knew of the secret Canadian platoon and their wendigo. | The forest was dark this morning, the trees were blocking out what remained of the winter’s sunrise, my breath was misting up in front of me. It was a beautiful morning. The sort of morning where I could do nothing but smile, despite the apparently shit night my colleague had. It is never good to wake up to a text message simply saying ‘he is a grumpy arse this morning.’
Sure, normally Jason is a grumpy ass, but for the hardened Brit who takes the night shift to proclaim such a thing meant trouble for me. The morning after the night before was usually one built with frustration. A frustrated Wendigo was never a good thing.
There were marks of his violent outburst. The trees to my right were at an unusual angle, deep scratches wormed their way around the bark. The usual quiet wilderness around me, peaceful in Jason’s presence, was erratic and unhappy. To a passer-by, this may have been like any other morning, but to a Park Ranger, it was obvious. That was one saving grace. The last time Jason had a moan, he had torn up half an acre of land and seemingly pissed all over an unfortunate moose. Literally pissed all over it. Poor fella.
“Jason!” I called out into the trees. I couldn’t see the creature, but I was fairly certain he had seen me.
…
…
Odd. No reply. That brat better not be giving me the silent treatment.
Angrily I followed his trail of mild discomfort. The poor thing wasn’t angry, the trees were still rooted, if he was angry there would be nothing left standing. But whatever was up with him, it needed to be fixed before the park opened to the public.
“Jason, you oversized moose, it’s Nate! Come talk!” The moose comment would draw his attention. It always did.
…
…
Still no answer. Where was the green shit?
The trail that I was walking down was getting less and less chaotic, as though the frustration had faded over time. The deep footprints that were engraved in the mud were barely visible now. Was I going the wrong way? Maybe I should turn around?
“Nate, I’m sorry…” A miserable voice called out from in front of me.
Squinting, I couldn’t make out where he was. There were so many different shades of green in front of me, Jason’s particular shade of green just faded into the background.
“It’s alright, no need to say sorry. Everyone has off days. What’s the matter?” I called out, still searching the trees to find the hulking beast.
There was a rustle in front of me, a few trees wobbled in the darkness of the thicker trees.
“You in there?”
“I don’t want to come out and play today…not with you.” Jason’s voice was gloomy and miserable. It was still powerful as anything, I could feel it reverberating through me. But his usually booming and deep voice was slightly less booming today.
“Hey, Jason, that’s not nice.” I could just make out his thick horns at the top of the trees. The rest of his muscly figure was well hidden in the dark greens and browns of the trees.
I could hear it shuffle around in the darkness, causing the trees to sway further. “I don’t mean to be mean Nate. I just find humans boring sometimes. I have to hold back a lot.”
I took a seat on an old tree to my left (a remnant from one of Jason’s past tempers). It had been a while since we had had this particular chat. “I know you do Jason, but we’ve spoken about this before. It is complicated.”
“But why is it complicated?!” He shouted at me.
I did all in my power to not flinch, but the explosiveness of his voice always gave me the chills.
“Hey, don’t shout at me, Jason.” I snapped, hoping that my fear wouldn’t show. “That isn’t on. If you want me to go through everything again, I will. But first and foremost, you are going to need to calm the fuck down.”
“Fine.” He replied with a slight twinge of anger. I decided to let it slip this time, but only because he was much, much bigger than me.
“What do you want to know?” I asked with open arms. I would rather him tell me what the problem is, then go on and on all morning long about every problem in the world.
“I want to play with others like me. Not little squishy humans.”
I sighed. It wasn’t that I was annoyed, I just hated THIS particular conversation. It was always a tough one.
“Werewolves visit me sometimes,” He went on, “old friends from the War. They talk about the good old days, about how then humans have been to them. They are treated like heroes Nate….Heroes. I want that.”
Fucking yanks, always the problem. Coming up to pay us a visit and upsetting things.
“How long has this been going on for?”
“It doesn’t matter Nate.”
“It does,” I pushed, “If werewolves are swimming over here, then the public needs to know. They are not meant to be here!”
“These ones don’t want to cause harm to you humans. They are veterans. Humans aren’t food for them.”
“They better not be.” Absentmindedly I thumbed the pistol that was firmly placed in the holster on my hip. Every other bullet was silver, just in case.
Trying to get the conversation back on track, I pressed Jason for more information. “What do these Werewolves talk to you about, old friend?”
“Like I said, they talk about the war. I fought alongside them in the Pacific. We shared the same trees, hunted the same Japs. They get to see their own kind all the time. They even get to see different humans!” He ended his statement with enthusiasm. He wanted company. That was understandable.
“These werewolves,” he continued, “they even mentioned about the night creatures.” There was a slight fear in his voice at the mention of this. I gulped hard, knowing full well what he was going to say next. “They say the night creatures have even started to see more of the world! Apparently, there is this one…I think his name is Gera, he even gets to talk to humans! Imagine it Nate, a night creature talking to a human! It is the start of a bad joke.” The Wendigo laughed at this. He laughed as though it was something that was unimaginable.
He was right though.
Integration with the Fantasies and their importance in the war had become well known. It was a part of human history that couldn't be hidden any longer.
“Jason,” I took my time, thinking about what I was about to say very carefully, “the thing is, the thing is that all that is true. Gera was even on the news the other night, fighting for equality for his kind. The difficulties we have though is that the werewolves and the vampires, they are like us.”
“No, they are not, they are better.” Jason snapped in an aggressive tone.
I raised my eyebrows at him. That was an unusual response that I wasn’t going to worry about for the time being. “What I mean, I mean that they can use the same stuff as us. We are all the same size.”
“What?! So I cannot leave this island because I am taller than you?!” He shouted at me. The trees shaking in anger. “Yeah,” I could hear him smirking, “I know this place is an island. The werewolves told me. Why am I on an island Nate?!” I want to see the others!”
I moved slightly, my feet were placed firmer on the floor. I was ready to run if need be.
“Jason, it isn’t that simple. There is a plan in place, but it is going to take a while for everyt”
“You have been saying that for years!” He interrupted, “I fought for this little country when people threatened MY forests! I even left MY forest when I was asked! I had to share a FUCKING FOREST with a bunch of FUCKING DOGS!”
“Please, Jason. There is nothing I can do.” There were tears in my eyes. Not because I was scared, but because I was sad. Sad that I couldn’t tell him the truth.
I could see the trees shaking as Jason gesticulated with his strong arms. The tip of the forest was being made bare as the leaves fell around him. I could just make out his darkened shape, each and every one of his muscles was tense and ready to pounce.
“Please listen to me Jason,” I tried to calm the beast, “there are people talking right now. They are talking about helping you out, helping us you Wendigo’s. You have to listen to me!” I cried out. My eyes could no longer hold back the tears.
There was a moment of silence in Jason’s rage. I could hear his breathing even from this distance.
“I like you, Nate.” He whispered. Even his whisper travelled further than the average human could shout. “I like you a lot, and I know you want me to hide away while the other humans are here. You’ve been honest with me since the very beginning, and I respect that so I will quench my anger for the moment. However,” his voice had a hint of violence, “if this problem doesn’t get resolved soon, I will find a way off of this island and I will head to the place where the lights are at night.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s a promise.” With that Jason turned, the trees giving away his movement, and he walked off into the distance. He was gone, for now…
I remained on that log for what must have been an hour, just crying away. I cried more in that moment than I had done in all 25 of my years on Earth. How was I meant to tell such a beautiful creature that he was the last of his kind?
| Midnight. Johnson moved up the creek, his knees deep in the water. The rest of his platoon was somewhere behind him, and he took it upon himself to do the scouting work in advance.
Then Maynard, Florence, and Trumbull would bring up the advance on his position, letting fly weaponry of a rocket nature.
Then Bull, Sturbridge, Mick, Hanford, Giles, and Wesley would be the rearguard, breaking the doors down and murdering as much of the Nazis in that encampment as possible.
And then, to hunt down any stragglers, the Wendigo would arrive.
Johnson didn't know much about the creature, save that until the Allied countries broke their truce on cryptid deployment right before D Day, it forced Canada to pool through its reserves of folk-tales-that-are-real. Bigfoot wasn't having any of the war, he's actually settled down nicely in the outskirts of Toronto and has engaged in a naturalistic pacifism. Jörmungandr, the Viking serpent off of Nova Scotia, still won't talk to us since we let the British use a nearby site for bomb tests.
The Wendigo, however, couldn't seem to care about politics or grudges. He was fairly complacent with brutish murder on a whim.
Johnson moved up to the brush by the camp. He peered over, a good forty Germans would be found here in total, he'd reckon. None of them seemed too apt or able. Lots of fear, lots of scuffling, signs all over of a once well-empowered force now reduced by time and dissipating resource lines. Johnson felt lucky to be new in this war, if not, he might bear similarity to this more sorry state. He doubled back and met with the first wave, the door knocker squad.
Maynard carried the mortar, and established a perimeter with Florence taking right and Trumbull taking left. Both carried necessary equipment to signal the bulk of the squad's arrival. The idea was to scare the enemy with loud, destructive shells, then briefly take measure of their reaction, which would give the Canucks a better idea of their weaknesses, and the corresponding soldier would signal in the rest of the squad based on where they saw opportunities to attack. Johnson hunkered down with Maynard as the others left for their spots. Their heads down, they waited for the three minute count. It came at last, and the reckoning brought about by shells rained hell on the German camp.
Reaction was swift. Below Johnson, at the camp, the Germans immediately began to divide up, half of them creating a grand perimeter, half of them in a line moving half-naked but organized into the brush to attempt to root out the attackers, or to flee. But their advance team was clearly moving to the left. Johnson said a brief prayer for Trumbull. Truly, he hoped they didn't find him. The radios echoed with Florence's signal to attack from the right, and so now the matter of assault was entirely in the hands of those brave souls of the general infantry.
Only, there was nothing to be heard. A minute went by, then two, during neither of which did any assault seem to begin on the camp where it should have. Florence kept his signal vivaciously on the radio channels. Maynard began to radio Trumbull, to see if anything was happening on his end, whereas Johnson radioed his friend Sturbridge in the general infantry. No response.
And then, something that neither Maynard nor Johnson had heard on the radio before squeaked out.
A brief scream. The words were something of the nature of "fuck!" and "operation abort" and a catholic prayer. It was Florence's Italian accented voice.
Then came the last thing any of the soldiers that night saw again: a massive pale humanoid figure emerging from treetops, slowly rising, large fangs dripping blood and antlers with the bodies of half the squad. The fucking wendigo was in a blood rage.
Maynard and Johnson clutched each other as the terrified Fascists began to nervously shoot at the abominable beast to no avail. With a sudden, almost unscientific lurch forward, the wendigo was in the middle of the encirclement of Nazis. After that point, the two Canucks turned away. And as the ground shook with the rage of the beast at last charging on their position, Johnson produced one final thought:
'Maybe it would've been worth it to ask Bigfoot again.' | |
[WP] You have upside down cross tattoos, and pray to Satan every night. You also give to the poor, love your neighbor, and volunteer at the thrift store. When you die, God and the Devil argue over your soul for days, and ultimately settle for joint custody. | I opened my eyes and found myself sitting in a large meeting room. I was at the head of the long table, but there was no one else present. I couldn’t remember how I’d gotten into the room, and for some reason I didn’t see the door either. I scratched my arm absentmindedly. The tattoo of a mostly-forgotten archaic symbol was old now, but I always scratched at it when I was anxious.
Suddenly, two men walked into the room. I looked behind them, expecting to see a door, but it seemed as if they had simply walked through the wall. One man was older with salt-and-pepper hair, and a smile that was infectious. I smiled back. His eyes were kind and gentle, and he seemed to radiate a strange white light. I’d never seen an aura before, but I guessed that’s what it would look like.
The second man was younger, with blonde hair and fierce blue eyes. He didn’t smile, but his features alone were dazzling. His aura was more golden, beautiful but it didn’t have that ‘pure’ quality of the other man. The two in their matching suits sat down on either side of me, and they each opened a file folder and took out a notebook.
“Ms. Vivian Alderan, welcome to the afterlife.” Said the older man, looking at me.
The infectious smile I had been returning faltered. No preamble at all. Just straight to the point. There it was, I was dead.
“Oh.” I said.
“Yes,” said the blonde, leaning forward, “and you see, we’re at a bit of an impasse here. The old man and I have been arguing over your soul for quite some time now.”
That surprised me. “But I did everything according to Lord Lucifer’s will,” I said, “There shouldn’t be any question over my soul.”
The blonde shook his head while the older man smiled before saying, “Yes my dear, that may have been the case, but you were … a little different than his usual followers.”
“Damn straight you were!” the blonde said angrily. “This has all been such a headache for me. You were CLEARLY one of my followers, you offered your prayers to me and you followed my ways, but for SOME reason, we’re sitting here debating your eternity.”
“She was selfless!” said the older man.
“But she followed ME!” said the blonde, his golden aura flaring.
Ah, now I understood. Lucifer wanted to take my soul, but God was here to make a bid for it too. I never thought God would want me actually. When I was little, I had my parents read me the bible, and attended church and Sunday School every week. I was attentive, and always asked questions. I was the perfect child, until I got older and started asking the difficult questions.
“But isn’t Lucifer the one that gave us knowledge and truth?” I had asked my pastor one day. “Shouldn’t we be thanking him rather than condemning him?” Needless to say, my parents got a call about that one, and the pastor tried to assure me that Lucifer=bad and God=good. But that didn’t sit well with me. So when I was old enough, I moved out of my parent’s house and began doing more research. To me, Lucifer was like the unsung hero of humanity and I devoted my life to his teachings. I spread knowledge to any and all who would listen, encouraging free thinking just like he had.
“I don’t think she should go with you.” God said simply, bringing my attention back to the matter at hand.
“She made things more beautiful!” Lucifer said, standing up from his chair. “That’s what I’m all about! It’s why you – we – had our little falling out!”
“Yeah,” I said suddenly, wanting the arguing to end so I could just get on with my eternity, “I gave everyone I found something to make them more beautiful, just like Lucifer did. Jewelry, flowers, clothing, gold…”
God nodded. “And were you paid for these things you gave? Did you expect anything in return?”
I paused. “No…”
The man smiled smugly. “And that’s why she belongs with me.”
“I can’t handle this,” Lucifer said, rubbing his temples, “I shouldn’t get headaches and yet I feel one coming on now. My followers are usually so much more selfish than this…”
“But I did only what Lord Lucifer would have done!” I said. The guilt of having caused these two beings to fall to such conflict was a little disconcerting. I had only done what I thought was right, but apparently my ‘right’ was both salvation and damnation.
“Alright!” Lucifer said, sitting back down in his chair in a huff, “We’ll split. You want her soul, I want her soul, we’ll share.”
God tapped his chin. “Like what Hades did with his wife?”
“Yes,” said Lucifer, “though at least we don’t have to worry about upsetting the natural balance of the world with this.”
“You won’t give her to me completely?” God asked, hope in his voice.
“Not a chance.” Said Lucifer. He waved his hand and a form and pen appeared in his hand. He slid it across the table to me, and I read it over. It looked oddly like a custody form with three spaces for signatures.
“You sign this,” Lucifer said, “and we’ll agree that I get you every other year. At least until the old man’s new Kingdom is finished, then we can revisit the agreement.”
I looked between the two men. This was not at all what I had expected, but it didn’t seem as if I had a choice. I took up the pen and signed my name neatly. Lucifer took the form back, signed it, and passed it to God who did the same. God checked it one last time, nodded, and snapped his fingers. A man appeared at his side, dressed in a simple white shirt and khaki pants.
“Mattatron,” God said, “keep a copy of this in Ms. Aldernon’s file and also send a copy over to Lucifer’s domain, would you?”
Mattatron nodded, glanced at Lucifer, and disappeared with the form.
God clapped his hands. “Well, now that that’s settled, let’s get on with your afterlife.”
I nodded, scratching my tattoo again nervously.
“As it’s an odd numbered year, you will begin your eternity in Lucifer’s domain.” God continued.
Lucifer smiled, and I felt a bit of relief.
“Right, shall we be off then?” Lucifer handed out his hand to me, the golden aura radiating even stronger. I knew what the bible had said about Hell, I knew what I’d been taught and that I should have been afraid, but for some reason it didn’t bother me that I’d be spending half of eternity in the realm of damnation. I had been Lucifer’s follower, and damnation was Lucifer’s realm. Maybe it wouldn’t be all that bad.
| "My son, I didn't wish for it to be this way."
"*Our* son... You know I love you very much."
"Yes. Our son. We both do. We both love you a whole heck of a lot."
"And we both... love... each other."
"I mean... sometimes love means you have to be far apart."
"Yeah..."
"For Eternity..."
"But that's okay. We *both* just want you to be happy."
"Yes. And you know you can talk to us. About anything."
"*Anything.*"
"We've seen it all..."
"Literally."
"And nothing you can say will shock us. We just want you to be open and we just want you to be happy."
"And we just want to be happy."
"Right."
"And that means... well..."
"That means... neither of us can be with you all the time, you know."
"Right, I mean... we both need a little space *sometimes*, you know?"
"But not all the time!"
"Right, exactly, not all the time!"
"But sometimes."
"Sometimes..."
"We want to go out, or just have some time to ourselves."
"We have hobbies."
"We're seeing people."
"Oh, well..."
"We are."
"Well, yeah, we're both seeing people."
"And we want to see you too! I mean..."
"Well..."
"Not like that."
"But yeah, we want to see you and spend time with you..."
"Both of us..."
"Yeah, yeah... both of us."
"So, uh... so that's what this is."
"Trust us, we both just *can't*...*wait*... to spend eternity with you, buddy."
*"Jesus fucking Christ..."* | |
[WP] In the last 300 years, the line between human and machine has grown so blurry as to be effectively indistinguishable. This proves a nasty shock for the elves and other fantasy creatures that used to make a hobby of tormenting us. | Lima'Sam stalked her prey. It was a transcendent honor to be the first Elf back in the lands of Man from the Faerie realm. Her clan was one of fierce, immortal hunters. They preyed on beasts and beings from a million dimensions, but Man had always been the most sought after.
At last, after centuries, they were allowed to return to Earth. Some sorcerer had struck a bargain that safeguarded Men against their dimensional excursions.
Alas, their time was at an end. Once again, their skins shall hang from walls as tapestries, their babies shall be drowned in wells and distilled, and their bones shall be carved into the most efficacious talismans all the Wilds ever knew. Indeed, Lima'Sam's own bow had the bone fragments of two of Arthur's descendents. This empowered it with a sharp, fracturing light that would sear flesh and bone, and send blood to boiling before its touch. She couldn't wait to savor the screams of her first blooding.
Alas, whatever blasted hellscape she found herself in held few humans. She could smell a Radiance in the air - and much of the desert around her was covered in glass. What had the Men done to themselves?
She searched for hours. Days. It was difficult to keep track of time when eons might as well be grains of sand within her mind. But at last, her lifesense pulsated in her mind. A living being with a soul large enough to entice her had come into her radius.
Like a faerie in flight, she ran towards it. The ground flew beneath her as her limbs effortlessly conducted her across such mundane terrain. She had hunted in realms who's floors were that of fire, and where gravity could crush even iron. Her magics and her divine body had sufficed. Here? It was utterly effortless. This mundane, tiny corner of creation offered as much resistance to her as if she were an arrow piercing air.
At last, her eyes picked out a human through some rubble. A toppled building - a contorted cage of stone and steel. There was something different about this human. Most of its body was covered in metal, or perhaps a synthetic substance of their own making.
The thrill of the hunt took over her, and she darted a thin tongue over her teeth in an expression of anticipation as she knocked her bow - the string thrumming with power and skill combined.
She loosed, and the arrow took off. It was a thing of crystalline wonder, multidimensional magic taking over as it cut through the feeble molecules in the air and towards her victim's heart.
The human reacted. It began to blur with a magic not unlike Lima'Sam's own. Its body surged and rolled out of the way, with a grace unbecoming of its ape-like frame.
Lima screamed and drew her next arrow, pulling it back and loosing. The human looked towards her - its glowing eyes flickering towards the arrow.
This human was no ape. This human moved with the speed of an Elf!
It rolled under the arrow and approached her - strange, grotesque blades sliding out from beneath its forearms. She loosed another arrow, and again, it dodged.
Growling, enraged and confused, she drew five arrows at once, and with a blurring, fluid motion, she let them loose. She willed them all to depart in different directions, before converging upon the Human's skull. It would be a sad waste, but alas, were Lima'Sam to be wounded by an Ape, she would be outcasted from her clan. It was not a risk she could take.
The human jumped. The arrows converged, following. Some kind of energy radiated from it, and dissolved the arrows. The human landed effortlessly within a few feet from her.
Snarling - such a base action - she Lima'Sam dropped her bow and drew her blade. A thing of peerless beauty - an edge so sharp it could cleave even adamantium in twane. Its scabbard had to have a space-defying enchantment on it to hold the edge itself in a space beyond space lest it simply drop from the scabbard - its own weight enough to supply force to cut through it.
The human raised an arm and let loose some kind of attack. A projectile of some sort of alloy clanged against her blade as she cut it in such a way to deflect behind her. Alas, it was simply a ruse. The human slid - being propelled by some kind of flame on its back and calves - and rose its other arm.
Lima'Sam cried out in an unknowable tongue, and dashed forward, blade coming down to strike the human's neck. Again, it ducked past it and brought a metal fist to bear - a blade deploying from the forearm right as it made contact.
Lima'Sam had never been injured on a hunt before. She had never even seen her own blood. That radiant, pearlescent blood spurted from her now as she recoiled, having instinctively dodged backwards in a twisting jump.
The human kept pace. It rose its arm again as she dodged, and let loose another pellet. It impacted onto her with a thud.
She -an elf. An immortal. A being who's breaths were counted in numbers beyond recknoning and who's bodily control was over each molecule in her muscles, fell on the ground. She wept as the human approached her, and she realized.
It was flesh woven with steel. Inspiration and generations of hard work researching the secrets of the universe had borne fruit more plentiful than the elves had reckoned possible.. This human was no human any longer. It was a machine.
Her people had spent trillions of years evolving their bodies and craft through careful breeding to achieve beings such as her.
The humans had done it in 300 years by using nothing but their own minds and materials available to them on their little ball of dirt.
How was such a thing possible?
Lima'Sam died underneath the machine's boot, despairing for what had been unleashed upon the universe by their foolish bargain. | I sip my coffee. It’s pretty good today, seeing as Greg is working; he’s good at the job. On days like this, Healing Tonic is a pristine example of how to mix cultures together in a perfect way. I’ve always loved coffee more than potions anyway. But I can’t even focus on my latte.
Through the glass doorways, a human enters the shop. I want to punch him in the face already. He’s got an oversized grey shirt on with big text that reads: Elves Should Stay On The Shelf. Sadly, I’m not going to get up. The man’s right arm is almost entirely augmented. If I tackled him he’d tear me in half.
Behind him he dragged several other human friends, all of whom were laughing and chatting amongst themselves, up to the register. The whole posse had that bearded hipster vibe about them. I hate that. Reaching up, I find myself pulling my beanie down over my pointed ears a bit more, acutely aware of my elfness.
Maybe someday things will change. Maybe shirts like that will become illegal. I take another sip. Damn did Greg out do himself. Usually Orcs make shittier coffee, but not this guy. If only the rest of us could all live in harmony. But who am I kidding, some humans still hate variations of their own kind. All I know, is that is this fool does say anything to me: I’m gonna need another cup of coffee. | |
[WP] In the last 300 years, the line between human and machine has grown so blurry as to be effectively indistinguishable. This proves a nasty shock for the elves and other fantasy creatures that used to make a hobby of tormenting us. | Part 1 | [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/SamsStoriesSub/comments/76amub/steam_magic_and_machinery_part_2/) | [Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/SamsStoriesSub/comments/78uoyk/steam_magic_and_machinery_part_3/)
---
Humanity was never as magically inclined as the Elves. It was never as strong as the Orcs. Human blacksmiths were never as good as those of the Dwarves. They were never as stealthy as Halflings. Never as in tune with nature as the more magical races. That was why the other races always looked down upon them. They treated Humans as though they were beneath them. A lower rung on some celestial ladder of importance. That was also why the 'higher' races tormented Humans constantly. At times, it was as innocent as name calling, or instigating bar fights. Other times it was as bad as a band of Orcs raiding and destroying entire Human villages and Elves and Dwarves just laughing at the Humans' misfortune. Then the 'higher' races just left. They went away to some distant land for seemingly no reason other than to annoy humans by denying them certain services they DID provide that humans had become accustomed to.
Humans were lost at first, having to deal with things that the 'higher' races took care of that they had never handled before. Structures created by the Elves fell into disrepair when Humans realised they had no idea how to maintain them, even with the knowledge of their most talented wizards and architects. Damaged Dwarven armour, shields, weapons, even farming equipment, it was all all but thrown away when Humanity's best blacksmiths admitted a lack of understanding of the metals involved. Farming itself was compromised. Without the natural magics of the higher races available to overcome pests and the elements, or to increase yield from disagreeable plants, famine struck the land. Natural disasters that were held at bay were left to wreak havoc on human towns and cities. Chaos reigned.
Meanwhile, the scrying wizards of the 'higher' races brought knowledge of the Humans' plights to their populations. Every three years, they looked back at the humans to watch them flail about. It entertained them for decades, though as the Humans found some realm of normalcy, they watched less and less. After roughly a century, they stopped watching altogether. Three hundred years passed. The rulers of the 'higher' races convened, as they did every fifty years. They decided, after much deliberation, that it had been long enough, separated from Humanity. They decided to return. The honour of greeting the 'lower' race and taking the first slaves would fall to the rulers and their great processions.
So it was that they set out on the great journey to the lands where Humans ruled. Four lines of spectacular heraldry, armies, and nobles crossed the great continent that separated two civilizations. The Elves were resplendent in their curved, beautiful carriages made of white wood. Their horses silver fur and manes sparkling in the sunlight along with their armour and weaponry. The Dwarves displayed their materialistic wealth with their straight edged carts and carriages built from gold, silver, and precious gems. Glowing runes covered every seam of their weapons and armour. They rode large, stocky mountain goats, bedecked in armour as rich as their owners.
The Orcs traipsed along in disorganized groups, the jagged lines and edges of their construction showed in everything they owned. Their carts were covered in great, pointed wooden stakes, their wargs were covered in coal blackened, dangerous looking metal plates, as were their warriors. They all grinned as they imagined the fights and terror that they could bring to Humanity after so long apart. The Halflings were the last to make the trip. They had little interest in rejoining the Humans as they didn't think there were many secrets to be learned from such a pathetic race as they. Thus the Halflings were the fewest in number and they sent little of their wonders with them. They were a minimalistic race to begin with, shunning anything that might do away with their ability to sneak. So they brought only black leathers, shaggy ponies, and their wits.
After many weeks of travel, the lead Elven scouts brought news back to the rulers of the first signs of civilization. They reported sightings of large red tomatoes, the likes of which never before seen. Farmland filled with grapes as big as an Orcs eye. Cabbages large enough to defy logic. The leaders were shocked by the information. They expected Humanity to be near extinction, or at least back to their hunter-gatherer ways, from their lack of ability with nature. To hear of such marvels of agriculture challenged the beliefs of the 'higher' races.
When the processions gained more ground, they started to see Humans on their farmland in the distance, accompanied by large metal devices that sparked with both flame and magical energy. It puzzled them, but they left them, heading to where the capital city used to be. As they approached, they got closer and closer to more and more Humans. What they saw troubled them greatly. It looked as though the 'lower' race had taken to wearing extensive metal armour as a matter of course. Whole arms, feet, and faces were covered in some sort of metal accessories. A short while after passing a milestone out from the capital, there was a single Human standing in the middle of the road.
"Ho there!" He called, cheerily, "What say you about letting me speak to who's in charge here? I'm the Mayor of the city back there," he pointed a shining metal thumb back over his shoulder, indicating the towering walls of the city-state behind him, "and I'd like to know some things before you continue." His left eye glowed with a powerful blue light from behind a strange, intricate metal mask, and what the Elves could see of his limbs seemed to be made of metal.
"HA!" The captain of the lead group of guards scoffed at the notion, "No matter how much of agriculture or metallurgy Humanity has mastered, Elves won't answer to the requests of one as low as you." He dismounted from his silver mare and strode over to the Human man, drawing his elegant blade as he went.
"I wouldn't, if I were you. Really..." The Human raised one eyebrow at the approaching Elf. The captain raised the sword, meaning to cut down the Mayor, bringing it down with preternatural speed. "Ignis." A bright light emanated from just behind the Mayor's outstretched hand followed by a flame the size of a building that incinerated the captain...and the first row of eight scouts and their horses twenty feet behind him. "I did tell him not to..." The Mayor shook his hand, cooling it from the burst. "So...about seeing your leaders?" A single scout brave enough to move kicked her horse back towards the center of the Elven procession.
---
More at r/SamsStoriesSub | I sip my coffee. It’s pretty good today, seeing as Greg is working; he’s good at the job. On days like this, Healing Tonic is a pristine example of how to mix cultures together in a perfect way. I’ve always loved coffee more than potions anyway. But I can’t even focus on my latte.
Through the glass doorways, a human enters the shop. I want to punch him in the face already. He’s got an oversized grey shirt on with big text that reads: Elves Should Stay On The Shelf. Sadly, I’m not going to get up. The man’s right arm is almost entirely augmented. If I tackled him he’d tear me in half.
Behind him he dragged several other human friends, all of whom were laughing and chatting amongst themselves, up to the register. The whole posse had that bearded hipster vibe about them. I hate that. Reaching up, I find myself pulling my beanie down over my pointed ears a bit more, acutely aware of my elfness.
Maybe someday things will change. Maybe shirts like that will become illegal. I take another sip. Damn did Greg out do himself. Usually Orcs make shittier coffee, but not this guy. If only the rest of us could all live in harmony. But who am I kidding, some humans still hate variations of their own kind. All I know, is that is this fool does say anything to me: I’m gonna need another cup of coffee. | |
[WP] In the last 300 years, the line between human and machine has grown so blurry as to be effectively indistinguishable. This proves a nasty shock for the elves and other fantasy creatures that used to make a hobby of tormenting us. | The old ways are dying.
I remember when the world was very different. Instead of cold steel and glass, it was warm wood and leaves. Instead of manufactured existence, there was natural life imbued with the sacred energies of our ancestors. It was a time of nature and of magic. Magnificent beasts roamed the lands and the skies, with us as their masters.
There were others. Sometimes we fought, often we simply minded each other's own business. The burrowed people had dominion over the network of tunnels of great subterranea. We woodland folk tended the woods and the forests. When man first came they were nomads. They travelled the open fields, hunting and stopping for shelter as they went. It was a simple life for us all.
No-one, perhaps not even those nomads themselves, would have even dreamed of things turning out the way they have. Admittedly we are perhaps more guilty than them.
Our magic mystified man. As did our beasts. We were worshipped as Gods, feared as Demons. They offered us their food, their young...anything to appease us. And perhaps we grew spoiled on this. We pushed them to always fear us. We would send a beast after one camp. We would break their tools or burn away their food so they came to us for forgiveness and help.
But then man found a new God. One made of metal. One powered by lightning. One who thinks in binary language. We laughed at first. These toys could never topple the old ways! Our magic is too ancient, too strong to even be challenged.
But it learned. It evolved. And man alongside it.
Man changed our world. They drove out the burrowed people to feed their new God precious metals and fuel. They destroyed our forests to harvest the wood, make new land for their bigger settlements. Beast kind were hunted to extinction with weapons so different they had no chance to survive.
And now we are the last few left. Huddled together in one of the last remnants of the old world. I can still feel our ancestors, no matter how faint they are still with us. This new world of man will continue to encroach on us.
It won't be long until all of it, and all of us, are gone. | I sip my coffee. It’s pretty good today, seeing as Greg is working; he’s good at the job. On days like this, Healing Tonic is a pristine example of how to mix cultures together in a perfect way. I’ve always loved coffee more than potions anyway. But I can’t even focus on my latte.
Through the glass doorways, a human enters the shop. I want to punch him in the face already. He’s got an oversized grey shirt on with big text that reads: Elves Should Stay On The Shelf. Sadly, I’m not going to get up. The man’s right arm is almost entirely augmented. If I tackled him he’d tear me in half.
Behind him he dragged several other human friends, all of whom were laughing and chatting amongst themselves, up to the register. The whole posse had that bearded hipster vibe about them. I hate that. Reaching up, I find myself pulling my beanie down over my pointed ears a bit more, acutely aware of my elfness.
Maybe someday things will change. Maybe shirts like that will become illegal. I take another sip. Damn did Greg out do himself. Usually Orcs make shittier coffee, but not this guy. If only the rest of us could all live in harmony. But who am I kidding, some humans still hate variations of their own kind. All I know, is that is this fool does say anything to me: I’m gonna need another cup of coffee. | |
[WP] In the last 300 years, the line between human and machine has grown so blurry as to be effectively indistinguishable. This proves a nasty shock for the elves and other fantasy creatures that used to make a hobby of tormenting us. | The sound of footsteps overhead.
Heel, toe. Heel, toe.
Echoing down through the wooden boards, rhythmically, drumming, then stopping all at once like a summer rain shower.
The troll rubs his hands together.
“Perfect,” he says, then coughs. It’s been days since he’s spoken out loud. His voice is thin and raspy like a wheel in need of oiling.
Standing up is no easy chore. His beer belly has grown bulbous and immense, a hyper-inflated balloon stuck to his abdomen. He huffs and heaves himself onto his feet, ankles cracking in the process. A quick glance in the mirror, a smoothing-over of the eyebrows with a spit-clicked finger, and the troll is on his way.
As he clambers out of his grotto and up the muddy slope, he whistles to himself softly. It feels good to be getting out of the house for once. Unemployment had been hard on him. He refers to it as “retirement”, but the other mystical creatures in the forest know that he doesn’t believe his own words.
The change had started a couple hundred years earlier. The troll remembers it well. One morning, the footsteps didn’t stop when they crossed the bridge above his grotto. He had leapt up from the shadows, ready to intimidate the trespasser into fear and shame. Sometimes the non-payers would piss themselves in their terror. The troll liked that. It was the closest thing he received to recognition for his efforts. That, and the toll, of course.
When he had jumped onto the bridge, however, he didn’t growl, scream, or threaten. He had stood dumbfounded, unsure what to make of the silvery creature standing in front of him. The thing looked human, it was true, but there was something… off. Something not right. Its eyes didn’t grow wide. It had no eyebrows to speak of, no nose, either. Its head was square instead of melon-shaped and its entire body glimmered in the morning sun like water in the light.
After a few moments of staring at one another, the troll professionally explained his toll policy. Three grommits to pass. If you don’t mind. The creature had simply made a long beeping sound and continued past the troll like he wasn’t even there, leaving him alone and, for the first time in his life, a little nervous.
Over the years, the troll learned to differentiate between the various types of footsteps that fell on his roof. Heavy and not stopping? Automaton. Light, fearful, and hesitant? Absolutely human. But soon even this identification grew difficult. Heavy, yet fearful and hesitant? Could be a human-like machine. Light, yet not stopping? Most like a prosthetically enhanced human. The latter was preferable, as they still paid the tolls, but it wasn’t easy like it was in millennia past. The new race was aggressive, paid their toll begrudgingly, and spit behind them after crossing the bridge.
“No respect,” the trolls mutters at the dredging-up of the memory. “No respect.”
By now, the troll has made the final climb, past the moss-covered stones that have been his only constant since taking up this profession nearly 3,000 years ago. He pets his favorite one fondly as he passes by, digging the claws of his other hand in the smelly, swampy earth and pulling himself up to eye-level with the bridge.
What he sees makes him smile. He licks his lips in anticipation, the old adrenaline rushing back through his limbs. Bending his knees, he assumes the familiar position, then leaps magnificently onto the bridge.
“Raaaawwwwrrr!” he roars, letting his toxic breath waft down the bridge toward his victim.
She stares back at him blankly, blinking slowly in the morning sun. She is smaller then him, not quite a child, yet definitely not an adult. Stuck somewhere in between innocence and self-reliance. After taking in the sight of him, she waves.
“Hi,” she says.
The troll is baffled. It can’t be a human, as it is not afraid of him. Yet it shows no signs of automation. The thing even has eyelids, which she flaunts again and again in a slow, measured blink.
The troll clears his throat and tries roaring again, with much the same reaction from the thing as before.
“Don’t you want a toll or something?” she asks. The rays of the sun flash in winks through the thin material of her dress. Her feet are bare, those ugly little toes pressing softly into the troll’s bridge. He always hated toes.
The troll clears his throat.
“I am the master of this bridge!” The old words feel good in his mouth. He wraps his tongue around them, lets them fall out powerfully yet nonchalantly. For extra effect, he raises his scaly hands above his head to appear larger.
“I’m Cindy,” the thing says.
“I am the master of this bridge!” he tries again. “To pass safely, I demand a levy! A toll! Or I will have your head for supper!” He licks his lips grotesquely, a move that has won him many reactions through the years.
“How much is it?”
“Three grommits!” As he says it, the troll feels a doubt rise up. Three grommits didn’t go very far these days. Barely got you a beer at the forest pub.
“Six grommits!” he corrects himself.
The creature digs through a small leather satchel hanging at her side. Soft blonde hair falls in waves around her freckled skin as she looks down.
“Do you have change for a ten, perhaps?”
“NO! The troll does not give change!”
“That’s okay, you can just take the ten-note, then.”
She extends the money toward him. For a moment, the troll considers smacking it out of her hand. But ten grommits would pay for at least enough drinks to drown the memory of this experience, so he snatches the money and shoves it in the back pocket of his pants.
“Creature, are you man or machine?” His tone softens against his will. He doesn’t want to engage with the thing any longer, but his curiosity is too strong. What is it with which he is confronted?
The thing considers the question for a moment before shrugging.
“Neither, I guess.”
She attempts to pass by, brushing him gently as she walks. Frustrated, the troll leaps in front of her again, blocking her path into the woods.
“Do you need another toll, sir? I really must be getting onto my grandmother’s house. They’re servicing her titanium hip today and I wouldn’t want her to be alone for the procedure.”
Plussed, the troll steps aside and observes her as she continues into the woods. Before she rounds the first bend and leaves his sight, he calls out to her,
“Why do you not fear me, child?”
She considers the question, then takes a few steps back toward him to remove the necessity of yelling.
“My grandmother has told me the stories, stories of humans without mechanized prosthetics, of automata without human brains. We’ve seen the earth open up and give up all its mysteries to science and reason. And today, I have seen a troll, which ‘til now I’ve only heard tales of. With no questions left, with no more dark corners in which to hide our doubts and fears, who can be afraid of anything, really?”
With that, the girl turns and moves confidently through the woods. The troll watches her until she leaves his sight then, sighing, returns to his grotto, his mud-chair, and his permanent retirement.
| I sip my coffee. It’s pretty good today, seeing as Greg is working; he’s good at the job. On days like this, Healing Tonic is a pristine example of how to mix cultures together in a perfect way. I’ve always loved coffee more than potions anyway. But I can’t even focus on my latte.
Through the glass doorways, a human enters the shop. I want to punch him in the face already. He’s got an oversized grey shirt on with big text that reads: Elves Should Stay On The Shelf. Sadly, I’m not going to get up. The man’s right arm is almost entirely augmented. If I tackled him he’d tear me in half.
Behind him he dragged several other human friends, all of whom were laughing and chatting amongst themselves, up to the register. The whole posse had that bearded hipster vibe about them. I hate that. Reaching up, I find myself pulling my beanie down over my pointed ears a bit more, acutely aware of my elfness.
Maybe someday things will change. Maybe shirts like that will become illegal. I take another sip. Damn did Greg out do himself. Usually Orcs make shittier coffee, but not this guy. If only the rest of us could all live in harmony. But who am I kidding, some humans still hate variations of their own kind. All I know, is that is this fool does say anything to me: I’m gonna need another cup of coffee. | |
[WP] In the last 300 years, the line between human and machine has grown so blurry as to be effectively indistinguishable. This proves a nasty shock for the elves and other fantasy creatures that used to make a hobby of tormenting us. | Part 1 | [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/SamsStoriesSub/comments/76amub/steam_magic_and_machinery_part_2/) | [Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/SamsStoriesSub/comments/78uoyk/steam_magic_and_machinery_part_3/)
---
Humanity was never as magically inclined as the Elves. It was never as strong as the Orcs. Human blacksmiths were never as good as those of the Dwarves. They were never as stealthy as Halflings. Never as in tune with nature as the more magical races. That was why the other races always looked down upon them. They treated Humans as though they were beneath them. A lower rung on some celestial ladder of importance. That was also why the 'higher' races tormented Humans constantly. At times, it was as innocent as name calling, or instigating bar fights. Other times it was as bad as a band of Orcs raiding and destroying entire Human villages and Elves and Dwarves just laughing at the Humans' misfortune. Then the 'higher' races just left. They went away to some distant land for seemingly no reason other than to annoy humans by denying them certain services they DID provide that humans had become accustomed to.
Humans were lost at first, having to deal with things that the 'higher' races took care of that they had never handled before. Structures created by the Elves fell into disrepair when Humans realised they had no idea how to maintain them, even with the knowledge of their most talented wizards and architects. Damaged Dwarven armour, shields, weapons, even farming equipment, it was all all but thrown away when Humanity's best blacksmiths admitted a lack of understanding of the metals involved. Farming itself was compromised. Without the natural magics of the higher races available to overcome pests and the elements, or to increase yield from disagreeable plants, famine struck the land. Natural disasters that were held at bay were left to wreak havoc on human towns and cities. Chaos reigned.
Meanwhile, the scrying wizards of the 'higher' races brought knowledge of the Humans' plights to their populations. Every three years, they looked back at the humans to watch them flail about. It entertained them for decades, though as the Humans found some realm of normalcy, they watched less and less. After roughly a century, they stopped watching altogether. Three hundred years passed. The rulers of the 'higher' races convened, as they did every fifty years. They decided, after much deliberation, that it had been long enough, separated from Humanity. They decided to return. The honour of greeting the 'lower' race and taking the first slaves would fall to the rulers and their great processions.
So it was that they set out on the great journey to the lands where Humans ruled. Four lines of spectacular heraldry, armies, and nobles crossed the great continent that separated two civilizations. The Elves were resplendent in their curved, beautiful carriages made of white wood. Their horses silver fur and manes sparkling in the sunlight along with their armour and weaponry. The Dwarves displayed their materialistic wealth with their straight edged carts and carriages built from gold, silver, and precious gems. Glowing runes covered every seam of their weapons and armour. They rode large, stocky mountain goats, bedecked in armour as rich as their owners.
The Orcs traipsed along in disorganized groups, the jagged lines and edges of their construction showed in everything they owned. Their carts were covered in great, pointed wooden stakes, their wargs were covered in coal blackened, dangerous looking metal plates, as were their warriors. They all grinned as they imagined the fights and terror that they could bring to Humanity after so long apart. The Halflings were the last to make the trip. They had little interest in rejoining the Humans as they didn't think there were many secrets to be learned from such a pathetic race as they. Thus the Halflings were the fewest in number and they sent little of their wonders with them. They were a minimalistic race to begin with, shunning anything that might do away with their ability to sneak. So they brought only black leathers, shaggy ponies, and their wits.
After many weeks of travel, the lead Elven scouts brought news back to the rulers of the first signs of civilization. They reported sightings of large red tomatoes, the likes of which never before seen. Farmland filled with grapes as big as an Orcs eye. Cabbages large enough to defy logic. The leaders were shocked by the information. They expected Humanity to be near extinction, or at least back to their hunter-gatherer ways, from their lack of ability with nature. To hear of such marvels of agriculture challenged the beliefs of the 'higher' races.
When the processions gained more ground, they started to see Humans on their farmland in the distance, accompanied by large metal devices that sparked with both flame and magical energy. It puzzled them, but they left them, heading to where the capital city used to be. As they approached, they got closer and closer to more and more Humans. What they saw troubled them greatly. It looked as though the 'lower' race had taken to wearing extensive metal armour as a matter of course. Whole arms, feet, and faces were covered in some sort of metal accessories. A short while after passing a milestone out from the capital, there was a single Human standing in the middle of the road.
"Ho there!" He called, cheerily, "What say you about letting me speak to who's in charge here? I'm the Mayor of the city back there," he pointed a shining metal thumb back over his shoulder, indicating the towering walls of the city-state behind him, "and I'd like to know some things before you continue." His left eye glowed with a powerful blue light from behind a strange, intricate metal mask, and what the Elves could see of his limbs seemed to be made of metal.
"HA!" The captain of the lead group of guards scoffed at the notion, "No matter how much of agriculture or metallurgy Humanity has mastered, Elves won't answer to the requests of one as low as you." He dismounted from his silver mare and strode over to the Human man, drawing his elegant blade as he went.
"I wouldn't, if I were you. Really..." The Human raised one eyebrow at the approaching Elf. The captain raised the sword, meaning to cut down the Mayor, bringing it down with preternatural speed. "Ignis." A bright light emanated from just behind the Mayor's outstretched hand followed by a flame the size of a building that incinerated the captain...and the first row of eight scouts and their horses twenty feet behind him. "I did tell him not to..." The Mayor shook his hand, cooling it from the burst. "So...about seeing your leaders?" A single scout brave enough to move kicked her horse back towards the center of the Elven procession.
---
More at r/SamsStoriesSub | Lima'Sam stalked her prey. It was a transcendent honor to be the first Elf back in the lands of Man from the Faerie realm. Her clan was one of fierce, immortal hunters. They preyed on beasts and beings from a million dimensions, but Man had always been the most sought after.
At last, after centuries, they were allowed to return to Earth. Some sorcerer had struck a bargain that safeguarded Men against their dimensional excursions.
Alas, their time was at an end. Once again, their skins shall hang from walls as tapestries, their babies shall be drowned in wells and distilled, and their bones shall be carved into the most efficacious talismans all the Wilds ever knew. Indeed, Lima'Sam's own bow had the bone fragments of two of Arthur's descendents. This empowered it with a sharp, fracturing light that would sear flesh and bone, and send blood to boiling before its touch. She couldn't wait to savor the screams of her first blooding.
Alas, whatever blasted hellscape she found herself in held few humans. She could smell a Radiance in the air - and much of the desert around her was covered in glass. What had the Men done to themselves?
She searched for hours. Days. It was difficult to keep track of time when eons might as well be grains of sand within her mind. But at last, her lifesense pulsated in her mind. A living being with a soul large enough to entice her had come into her radius.
Like a faerie in flight, she ran towards it. The ground flew beneath her as her limbs effortlessly conducted her across such mundane terrain. She had hunted in realms who's floors were that of fire, and where gravity could crush even iron. Her magics and her divine body had sufficed. Here? It was utterly effortless. This mundane, tiny corner of creation offered as much resistance to her as if she were an arrow piercing air.
At last, her eyes picked out a human through some rubble. A toppled building - a contorted cage of stone and steel. There was something different about this human. Most of its body was covered in metal, or perhaps a synthetic substance of their own making.
The thrill of the hunt took over her, and she darted a thin tongue over her teeth in an expression of anticipation as she knocked her bow - the string thrumming with power and skill combined.
She loosed, and the arrow took off. It was a thing of crystalline wonder, multidimensional magic taking over as it cut through the feeble molecules in the air and towards her victim's heart.
The human reacted. It began to blur with a magic not unlike Lima'Sam's own. Its body surged and rolled out of the way, with a grace unbecoming of its ape-like frame.
Lima screamed and drew her next arrow, pulling it back and loosing. The human looked towards her - its glowing eyes flickering towards the arrow.
This human was no ape. This human moved with the speed of an Elf!
It rolled under the arrow and approached her - strange, grotesque blades sliding out from beneath its forearms. She loosed another arrow, and again, it dodged.
Growling, enraged and confused, she drew five arrows at once, and with a blurring, fluid motion, she let them loose. She willed them all to depart in different directions, before converging upon the Human's skull. It would be a sad waste, but alas, were Lima'Sam to be wounded by an Ape, she would be outcasted from her clan. It was not a risk she could take.
The human jumped. The arrows converged, following. Some kind of energy radiated from it, and dissolved the arrows. The human landed effortlessly within a few feet from her.
Snarling - such a base action - she Lima'Sam dropped her bow and drew her blade. A thing of peerless beauty - an edge so sharp it could cleave even adamantium in twane. Its scabbard had to have a space-defying enchantment on it to hold the edge itself in a space beyond space lest it simply drop from the scabbard - its own weight enough to supply force to cut through it.
The human raised an arm and let loose some kind of attack. A projectile of some sort of alloy clanged against her blade as she cut it in such a way to deflect behind her. Alas, it was simply a ruse. The human slid - being propelled by some kind of flame on its back and calves - and rose its other arm.
Lima'Sam cried out in an unknowable tongue, and dashed forward, blade coming down to strike the human's neck. Again, it ducked past it and brought a metal fist to bear - a blade deploying from the forearm right as it made contact.
Lima'Sam had never been injured on a hunt before. She had never even seen her own blood. That radiant, pearlescent blood spurted from her now as she recoiled, having instinctively dodged backwards in a twisting jump.
The human kept pace. It rose its arm again as she dodged, and let loose another pellet. It impacted onto her with a thud.
She -an elf. An immortal. A being who's breaths were counted in numbers beyond recknoning and who's bodily control was over each molecule in her muscles, fell on the ground. She wept as the human approached her, and she realized.
It was flesh woven with steel. Inspiration and generations of hard work researching the secrets of the universe had borne fruit more plentiful than the elves had reckoned possible.. This human was no human any longer. It was a machine.
Her people had spent trillions of years evolving their bodies and craft through careful breeding to achieve beings such as her.
The humans had done it in 300 years by using nothing but their own minds and materials available to them on their little ball of dirt.
How was such a thing possible?
Lima'Sam died underneath the machine's boot, despairing for what had been unleashed upon the universe by their foolish bargain. | |
[WP] In the last 300 years, the line between human and machine has grown so blurry as to be effectively indistinguishable. This proves a nasty shock for the elves and other fantasy creatures that used to make a hobby of tormenting us. | The old ways are dying.
I remember when the world was very different. Instead of cold steel and glass, it was warm wood and leaves. Instead of manufactured existence, there was natural life imbued with the sacred energies of our ancestors. It was a time of nature and of magic. Magnificent beasts roamed the lands and the skies, with us as their masters.
There were others. Sometimes we fought, often we simply minded each other's own business. The burrowed people had dominion over the network of tunnels of great subterranea. We woodland folk tended the woods and the forests. When man first came they were nomads. They travelled the open fields, hunting and stopping for shelter as they went. It was a simple life for us all.
No-one, perhaps not even those nomads themselves, would have even dreamed of things turning out the way they have. Admittedly we are perhaps more guilty than them.
Our magic mystified man. As did our beasts. We were worshipped as Gods, feared as Demons. They offered us their food, their young...anything to appease us. And perhaps we grew spoiled on this. We pushed them to always fear us. We would send a beast after one camp. We would break their tools or burn away their food so they came to us for forgiveness and help.
But then man found a new God. One made of metal. One powered by lightning. One who thinks in binary language. We laughed at first. These toys could never topple the old ways! Our magic is too ancient, too strong to even be challenged.
But it learned. It evolved. And man alongside it.
Man changed our world. They drove out the burrowed people to feed their new God precious metals and fuel. They destroyed our forests to harvest the wood, make new land for their bigger settlements. Beast kind were hunted to extinction with weapons so different they had no chance to survive.
And now we are the last few left. Huddled together in one of the last remnants of the old world. I can still feel our ancestors, no matter how faint they are still with us. This new world of man will continue to encroach on us.
It won't be long until all of it, and all of us, are gone. | Lima'Sam stalked her prey. It was a transcendent honor to be the first Elf back in the lands of Man from the Faerie realm. Her clan was one of fierce, immortal hunters. They preyed on beasts and beings from a million dimensions, but Man had always been the most sought after.
At last, after centuries, they were allowed to return to Earth. Some sorcerer had struck a bargain that safeguarded Men against their dimensional excursions.
Alas, their time was at an end. Once again, their skins shall hang from walls as tapestries, their babies shall be drowned in wells and distilled, and their bones shall be carved into the most efficacious talismans all the Wilds ever knew. Indeed, Lima'Sam's own bow had the bone fragments of two of Arthur's descendents. This empowered it with a sharp, fracturing light that would sear flesh and bone, and send blood to boiling before its touch. She couldn't wait to savor the screams of her first blooding.
Alas, whatever blasted hellscape she found herself in held few humans. She could smell a Radiance in the air - and much of the desert around her was covered in glass. What had the Men done to themselves?
She searched for hours. Days. It was difficult to keep track of time when eons might as well be grains of sand within her mind. But at last, her lifesense pulsated in her mind. A living being with a soul large enough to entice her had come into her radius.
Like a faerie in flight, she ran towards it. The ground flew beneath her as her limbs effortlessly conducted her across such mundane terrain. She had hunted in realms who's floors were that of fire, and where gravity could crush even iron. Her magics and her divine body had sufficed. Here? It was utterly effortless. This mundane, tiny corner of creation offered as much resistance to her as if she were an arrow piercing air.
At last, her eyes picked out a human through some rubble. A toppled building - a contorted cage of stone and steel. There was something different about this human. Most of its body was covered in metal, or perhaps a synthetic substance of their own making.
The thrill of the hunt took over her, and she darted a thin tongue over her teeth in an expression of anticipation as she knocked her bow - the string thrumming with power and skill combined.
She loosed, and the arrow took off. It was a thing of crystalline wonder, multidimensional magic taking over as it cut through the feeble molecules in the air and towards her victim's heart.
The human reacted. It began to blur with a magic not unlike Lima'Sam's own. Its body surged and rolled out of the way, with a grace unbecoming of its ape-like frame.
Lima screamed and drew her next arrow, pulling it back and loosing. The human looked towards her - its glowing eyes flickering towards the arrow.
This human was no ape. This human moved with the speed of an Elf!
It rolled under the arrow and approached her - strange, grotesque blades sliding out from beneath its forearms. She loosed another arrow, and again, it dodged.
Growling, enraged and confused, she drew five arrows at once, and with a blurring, fluid motion, she let them loose. She willed them all to depart in different directions, before converging upon the Human's skull. It would be a sad waste, but alas, were Lima'Sam to be wounded by an Ape, she would be outcasted from her clan. It was not a risk she could take.
The human jumped. The arrows converged, following. Some kind of energy radiated from it, and dissolved the arrows. The human landed effortlessly within a few feet from her.
Snarling - such a base action - she Lima'Sam dropped her bow and drew her blade. A thing of peerless beauty - an edge so sharp it could cleave even adamantium in twane. Its scabbard had to have a space-defying enchantment on it to hold the edge itself in a space beyond space lest it simply drop from the scabbard - its own weight enough to supply force to cut through it.
The human raised an arm and let loose some kind of attack. A projectile of some sort of alloy clanged against her blade as she cut it in such a way to deflect behind her. Alas, it was simply a ruse. The human slid - being propelled by some kind of flame on its back and calves - and rose its other arm.
Lima'Sam cried out in an unknowable tongue, and dashed forward, blade coming down to strike the human's neck. Again, it ducked past it and brought a metal fist to bear - a blade deploying from the forearm right as it made contact.
Lima'Sam had never been injured on a hunt before. She had never even seen her own blood. That radiant, pearlescent blood spurted from her now as she recoiled, having instinctively dodged backwards in a twisting jump.
The human kept pace. It rose its arm again as she dodged, and let loose another pellet. It impacted onto her with a thud.
She -an elf. An immortal. A being who's breaths were counted in numbers beyond recknoning and who's bodily control was over each molecule in her muscles, fell on the ground. She wept as the human approached her, and she realized.
It was flesh woven with steel. Inspiration and generations of hard work researching the secrets of the universe had borne fruit more plentiful than the elves had reckoned possible.. This human was no human any longer. It was a machine.
Her people had spent trillions of years evolving their bodies and craft through careful breeding to achieve beings such as her.
The humans had done it in 300 years by using nothing but their own minds and materials available to them on their little ball of dirt.
How was such a thing possible?
Lima'Sam died underneath the machine's boot, despairing for what had been unleashed upon the universe by their foolish bargain. | |
[WP] In the last 300 years, the line between human and machine has grown so blurry as to be effectively indistinguishable. This proves a nasty shock for the elves and other fantasy creatures that used to make a hobby of tormenting us. | The sound of footsteps overhead.
Heel, toe. Heel, toe.
Echoing down through the wooden boards, rhythmically, drumming, then stopping all at once like a summer rain shower.
The troll rubs his hands together.
“Perfect,” he says, then coughs. It’s been days since he’s spoken out loud. His voice is thin and raspy like a wheel in need of oiling.
Standing up is no easy chore. His beer belly has grown bulbous and immense, a hyper-inflated balloon stuck to his abdomen. He huffs and heaves himself onto his feet, ankles cracking in the process. A quick glance in the mirror, a smoothing-over of the eyebrows with a spit-clicked finger, and the troll is on his way.
As he clambers out of his grotto and up the muddy slope, he whistles to himself softly. It feels good to be getting out of the house for once. Unemployment had been hard on him. He refers to it as “retirement”, but the other mystical creatures in the forest know that he doesn’t believe his own words.
The change had started a couple hundred years earlier. The troll remembers it well. One morning, the footsteps didn’t stop when they crossed the bridge above his grotto. He had leapt up from the shadows, ready to intimidate the trespasser into fear and shame. Sometimes the non-payers would piss themselves in their terror. The troll liked that. It was the closest thing he received to recognition for his efforts. That, and the toll, of course.
When he had jumped onto the bridge, however, he didn’t growl, scream, or threaten. He had stood dumbfounded, unsure what to make of the silvery creature standing in front of him. The thing looked human, it was true, but there was something… off. Something not right. Its eyes didn’t grow wide. It had no eyebrows to speak of, no nose, either. Its head was square instead of melon-shaped and its entire body glimmered in the morning sun like water in the light.
After a few moments of staring at one another, the troll professionally explained his toll policy. Three grommits to pass. If you don’t mind. The creature had simply made a long beeping sound and continued past the troll like he wasn’t even there, leaving him alone and, for the first time in his life, a little nervous.
Over the years, the troll learned to differentiate between the various types of footsteps that fell on his roof. Heavy and not stopping? Automaton. Light, fearful, and hesitant? Absolutely human. But soon even this identification grew difficult. Heavy, yet fearful and hesitant? Could be a human-like machine. Light, yet not stopping? Most like a prosthetically enhanced human. The latter was preferable, as they still paid the tolls, but it wasn’t easy like it was in millennia past. The new race was aggressive, paid their toll begrudgingly, and spit behind them after crossing the bridge.
“No respect,” the trolls mutters at the dredging-up of the memory. “No respect.”
By now, the troll has made the final climb, past the moss-covered stones that have been his only constant since taking up this profession nearly 3,000 years ago. He pets his favorite one fondly as he passes by, digging the claws of his other hand in the smelly, swampy earth and pulling himself up to eye-level with the bridge.
What he sees makes him smile. He licks his lips in anticipation, the old adrenaline rushing back through his limbs. Bending his knees, he assumes the familiar position, then leaps magnificently onto the bridge.
“Raaaawwwwrrr!” he roars, letting his toxic breath waft down the bridge toward his victim.
She stares back at him blankly, blinking slowly in the morning sun. She is smaller then him, not quite a child, yet definitely not an adult. Stuck somewhere in between innocence and self-reliance. After taking in the sight of him, she waves.
“Hi,” she says.
The troll is baffled. It can’t be a human, as it is not afraid of him. Yet it shows no signs of automation. The thing even has eyelids, which she flaunts again and again in a slow, measured blink.
The troll clears his throat and tries roaring again, with much the same reaction from the thing as before.
“Don’t you want a toll or something?” she asks. The rays of the sun flash in winks through the thin material of her dress. Her feet are bare, those ugly little toes pressing softly into the troll’s bridge. He always hated toes.
The troll clears his throat.
“I am the master of this bridge!” The old words feel good in his mouth. He wraps his tongue around them, lets them fall out powerfully yet nonchalantly. For extra effect, he raises his scaly hands above his head to appear larger.
“I’m Cindy,” the thing says.
“I am the master of this bridge!” he tries again. “To pass safely, I demand a levy! A toll! Or I will have your head for supper!” He licks his lips grotesquely, a move that has won him many reactions through the years.
“How much is it?”
“Three grommits!” As he says it, the troll feels a doubt rise up. Three grommits didn’t go very far these days. Barely got you a beer at the forest pub.
“Six grommits!” he corrects himself.
The creature digs through a small leather satchel hanging at her side. Soft blonde hair falls in waves around her freckled skin as she looks down.
“Do you have change for a ten, perhaps?”
“NO! The troll does not give change!”
“That’s okay, you can just take the ten-note, then.”
She extends the money toward him. For a moment, the troll considers smacking it out of her hand. But ten grommits would pay for at least enough drinks to drown the memory of this experience, so he snatches the money and shoves it in the back pocket of his pants.
“Creature, are you man or machine?” His tone softens against his will. He doesn’t want to engage with the thing any longer, but his curiosity is too strong. What is it with which he is confronted?
The thing considers the question for a moment before shrugging.
“Neither, I guess.”
She attempts to pass by, brushing him gently as she walks. Frustrated, the troll leaps in front of her again, blocking her path into the woods.
“Do you need another toll, sir? I really must be getting onto my grandmother’s house. They’re servicing her titanium hip today and I wouldn’t want her to be alone for the procedure.”
Plussed, the troll steps aside and observes her as she continues into the woods. Before she rounds the first bend and leaves his sight, he calls out to her,
“Why do you not fear me, child?”
She considers the question, then takes a few steps back toward him to remove the necessity of yelling.
“My grandmother has told me the stories, stories of humans without mechanized prosthetics, of automata without human brains. We’ve seen the earth open up and give up all its mysteries to science and reason. And today, I have seen a troll, which ‘til now I’ve only heard tales of. With no questions left, with no more dark corners in which to hide our doubts and fears, who can be afraid of anything, really?”
With that, the girl turns and moves confidently through the woods. The troll watches her until she leaves his sight then, sighing, returns to his grotto, his mud-chair, and his permanent retirement.
| Lima'Sam stalked her prey. It was a transcendent honor to be the first Elf back in the lands of Man from the Faerie realm. Her clan was one of fierce, immortal hunters. They preyed on beasts and beings from a million dimensions, but Man had always been the most sought after.
At last, after centuries, they were allowed to return to Earth. Some sorcerer had struck a bargain that safeguarded Men against their dimensional excursions.
Alas, their time was at an end. Once again, their skins shall hang from walls as tapestries, their babies shall be drowned in wells and distilled, and their bones shall be carved into the most efficacious talismans all the Wilds ever knew. Indeed, Lima'Sam's own bow had the bone fragments of two of Arthur's descendents. This empowered it with a sharp, fracturing light that would sear flesh and bone, and send blood to boiling before its touch. She couldn't wait to savor the screams of her first blooding.
Alas, whatever blasted hellscape she found herself in held few humans. She could smell a Radiance in the air - and much of the desert around her was covered in glass. What had the Men done to themselves?
She searched for hours. Days. It was difficult to keep track of time when eons might as well be grains of sand within her mind. But at last, her lifesense pulsated in her mind. A living being with a soul large enough to entice her had come into her radius.
Like a faerie in flight, she ran towards it. The ground flew beneath her as her limbs effortlessly conducted her across such mundane terrain. She had hunted in realms who's floors were that of fire, and where gravity could crush even iron. Her magics and her divine body had sufficed. Here? It was utterly effortless. This mundane, tiny corner of creation offered as much resistance to her as if she were an arrow piercing air.
At last, her eyes picked out a human through some rubble. A toppled building - a contorted cage of stone and steel. There was something different about this human. Most of its body was covered in metal, or perhaps a synthetic substance of their own making.
The thrill of the hunt took over her, and she darted a thin tongue over her teeth in an expression of anticipation as she knocked her bow - the string thrumming with power and skill combined.
She loosed, and the arrow took off. It was a thing of crystalline wonder, multidimensional magic taking over as it cut through the feeble molecules in the air and towards her victim's heart.
The human reacted. It began to blur with a magic not unlike Lima'Sam's own. Its body surged and rolled out of the way, with a grace unbecoming of its ape-like frame.
Lima screamed and drew her next arrow, pulling it back and loosing. The human looked towards her - its glowing eyes flickering towards the arrow.
This human was no ape. This human moved with the speed of an Elf!
It rolled under the arrow and approached her - strange, grotesque blades sliding out from beneath its forearms. She loosed another arrow, and again, it dodged.
Growling, enraged and confused, she drew five arrows at once, and with a blurring, fluid motion, she let them loose. She willed them all to depart in different directions, before converging upon the Human's skull. It would be a sad waste, but alas, were Lima'Sam to be wounded by an Ape, she would be outcasted from her clan. It was not a risk she could take.
The human jumped. The arrows converged, following. Some kind of energy radiated from it, and dissolved the arrows. The human landed effortlessly within a few feet from her.
Snarling - such a base action - she Lima'Sam dropped her bow and drew her blade. A thing of peerless beauty - an edge so sharp it could cleave even adamantium in twane. Its scabbard had to have a space-defying enchantment on it to hold the edge itself in a space beyond space lest it simply drop from the scabbard - its own weight enough to supply force to cut through it.
The human raised an arm and let loose some kind of attack. A projectile of some sort of alloy clanged against her blade as she cut it in such a way to deflect behind her. Alas, it was simply a ruse. The human slid - being propelled by some kind of flame on its back and calves - and rose its other arm.
Lima'Sam cried out in an unknowable tongue, and dashed forward, blade coming down to strike the human's neck. Again, it ducked past it and brought a metal fist to bear - a blade deploying from the forearm right as it made contact.
Lima'Sam had never been injured on a hunt before. She had never even seen her own blood. That radiant, pearlescent blood spurted from her now as she recoiled, having instinctively dodged backwards in a twisting jump.
The human kept pace. It rose its arm again as she dodged, and let loose another pellet. It impacted onto her with a thud.
She -an elf. An immortal. A being who's breaths were counted in numbers beyond recknoning and who's bodily control was over each molecule in her muscles, fell on the ground. She wept as the human approached her, and she realized.
It was flesh woven with steel. Inspiration and generations of hard work researching the secrets of the universe had borne fruit more plentiful than the elves had reckoned possible.. This human was no human any longer. It was a machine.
Her people had spent trillions of years evolving their bodies and craft through careful breeding to achieve beings such as her.
The humans had done it in 300 years by using nothing but their own minds and materials available to them on their little ball of dirt.
How was such a thing possible?
Lima'Sam died underneath the machine's boot, despairing for what had been unleashed upon the universe by their foolish bargain. | |
[WP] Due to it's perceived negative effects and addictive nature, the possession and consumption of coffee is now illegal. You are one of America's most famous coffee bootleggers. | My name is Tim Horton and I own a store.
The people want coffee and I'll give them some more.
The coffee is banned everywhere, everyday.
But I'll give them their coffee if they're willing to pay. | The asshole was in my office again, but there was no way in hell I was taking my boots off the desk. He wanted to talk to me, he could do it while my feet were up, it had been a long damn day. I nodded to my boys Marco and Chen at the door, and Marco had his Sig out while Chen brought the sad sack of shit to the the chair across from me. Turning back to my unwanted company I spat out the grounds pouch I'd been working around the back of my mouth and gave him a sardonic wave, "Howdy Mayor! What brings you down out of city hall today?"
Rick Saenz had been a favorite of mine not all that long ago. I kept him elected, he kept me out of a jail cell, not such a bad arrangement. Hell, I'd practically funded his reelection and left fifty people in body bags to keep him at the top of San Antonio's power structure, but all the sudden he'd grown a conscience, and it was wearing thin on me.
His face was flushed redder than all get out and his suit hadn't even been buttoned up properly, so he'd obviously been in a bit of a hurry to get over here. No idea why he couldn't use a phone like everyone else on this planet, but I wasn't gonna sweat it while I had a cup of Kopi luwak still piping hot on my desk. Ignore the fact that they had to literally pick the beans out of weasel shit and it was some good stuff.
"There are seven more people *dead* Jack, how in the hell am I supposed to explain that?"
Yeah, not a happy camper, I took a deep sip of the drink and let the aroma travel deep into my nose before I deigned to answer, "I don't know. I don't care. We've got a fucking deal Rick, and you've done it before. Hell, if Laredo is keeping things quiet while those Hacienda boys and I shoot it out, you can fucking manage it up here. This place is a walk in the park with a pretty girl compared to down at the border."
"Could you stop drinking that shit in front of me?" Rick roared, "Swear to God Jack, it isn't worth it. I've got pressure from eight different directions. I don't do something about this soon, I won't win reelection."
Oh yeah, he thought *he* was pissed he was about to learn a fucking lesson.
"Reelection?" I roared back, putting all the scorn I had into the word, "There ain't a man in this city who'd dare run against you. They know they wouldn't live to see the rest of the year!" I leveled my finger at his heart, and made sure my gaze flickered briefly to Marco behind him, "but I swear on *your fucking life*, you cross *me* and you won't live to see next week. Now get the *fuck* out of my office!"
Chen hauled the protesting Saenz right out of his chair, and damn near threw him out into the hallway. Now that was more like it, you tell a man to jump around here, he'd best jump as high as he fucking can immediately, then start asking about how high he should have jumped. No delay, couldn't waste time if you wanted to get the beans where they needed to go.
The kettle in the kitchen behind the office started to whistle, and I smiled. Now that asshole was dealt with, I had a cup of Los Planes to look forward to after the Kopi luwak.
--------------------------
The gravel crushed under my boots as I patted shoulders, shook hands, and pounded backs with the Laredo boys, "This one means a lot guys. We're putting those Hacienda boys right out of the game. After today, we'll be the only suppliers for anyone buying supplies coming out of Texas, after that it's on to California. That all starts with you!"
One way or another, this was ending today. I was losing too much money to these Hacienda assholes, and Texas was my turf. More grounds poured across the border here than anywhere else in the country, and it wasn't just some shit tier Folgers house blend selling at five bucks an ounce either.
We were outside a warehouse off Del Mar waiting for a truck. Word had reached our ears that the Hacienda boys were bringing in a big truck of Rwanda Blue Bourbon, and anything that big was gonna have a pretty big manpower cover on it. I had taken the liberty to borrow a couple cars from San Antonio's finest on the Mayor's request, and even a couple uniforms for some of my guys.
Eventually, they pulled the truck over, and someone apparently got eyes on the Hacienda boys - because the heavens opened up and the wrath of God started pouring out of the clear blue sky.
It's amazing what the better part of a dozen Colt 9mm SMG's sound like when they open up. It must be like the goddamn end of the world to be on the other end of. But it ended quickly enough, and as the dust settled nine of the Hacienda boys weren't gonna be getting up again.
I spat out another grounds packet on the chest of one of the Hacienda boys who was still trying his damn best to spit up some blood, and before I put in another wad I gave him a little wave, "Jack 'Blue Mountain' Hale says hello. If you live, tell your bosses to say goodbye, got me?"
Not waiting for an answer that wasn't gonna be coming from a dying man I stuck the next wad in between my molars and started to grind. I waved Marco and chen in behind me and headed for the car as the first sirens spun up in Laredo for the day. Good thing the boys in blue were overworked here already, or they might have made it around sooner.
As the car pulled out onto Del Mar headed for I-35, I was on top of the world. | |
[WP] Due to it's perceived negative effects and addictive nature, the possession and consumption of coffee is now illegal. You are one of America's most famous coffee bootleggers. | Nothing had changed inside the Starbucks. Turns out its success was never about the coffee. A group of unkempt students seemed to be trying to fall for the placebo effect with decafs but most of the customers were enjoying some sort of sugary milkshake. "Wait till they ban that too" I thought. The Starbucks was noisy and smelled of synthetic coffee, there wasn't a better place to meet the new supplier.
But I couldn't be the one to see him. One doesn't become one of the biggest caffeine distributors taking this kind of risks. So I just sat across the room from Vince, my "interviewer". We had been friends since college, but despite his loyalty, the guy was too simple to take important decisions in the organization. He was the best coffee tester we had, though.
I heard the door open and I looked up. There she was. She seemed way too flashy for the job but she fit the description word for word. Short, Asian and long white hair. Check, check and check. My informer should have told me she was beautiful, too. She was the kind of woman that could cloud someone's judgement. "Good thing Vince is into dudes", I thought with a smile. I turned my eyes away from her as she walked towards his table.
As soon as the woman sat down she took out a cup from her bag. Vince grabbed it slowly and took a sip. Now we wait. He seemed to like the taste but this business is all about the rush and it takes some time to fully analyze that.
I turned my gaze to my newspaper. "Congressman to resign after failing caffeine test". If only he had taken cocaine instead, like his colleagues. Too bad that wasn't an option for me. Back when Vince and I were roommates in uni, he brought some coke back after a party for us to try, but it had the opposite effect for me, putting me instantly to sleep while Vince rambled maniacally about his latest crush. He took good care of me in spite of it all.
I looked back at his table. The woman was writing on her phone as Vince looked happily at the clock on the wall. It was almost time for the sign. At exactly 4:14 he had to subtly knock on the table to value the quality of the product. I checked my watch. Five seconds to go. And there it is. One knock. Two knocks. Three knocks! Better than our usual supplier. And cheaper too. I pulled out my burner phone and told my main distributor to buy the first batch. As I was talking, Vince and the woman left.
When I hung up, I noticed the cup was still on the table. So unprofessional. I took it on my way out. It wasn't empty, though. My curiosity got the best of me and I gulped what was left.
"This isn't coffee" I mumbled as I felt my knees fail and my head started to feel light. | The asshole was in my office again, but there was no way in hell I was taking my boots off the desk. He wanted to talk to me, he could do it while my feet were up, it had been a long damn day. I nodded to my boys Marco and Chen at the door, and Marco had his Sig out while Chen brought the sad sack of shit to the the chair across from me. Turning back to my unwanted company I spat out the grounds pouch I'd been working around the back of my mouth and gave him a sardonic wave, "Howdy Mayor! What brings you down out of city hall today?"
Rick Saenz had been a favorite of mine not all that long ago. I kept him elected, he kept me out of a jail cell, not such a bad arrangement. Hell, I'd practically funded his reelection and left fifty people in body bags to keep him at the top of San Antonio's power structure, but all the sudden he'd grown a conscience, and it was wearing thin on me.
His face was flushed redder than all get out and his suit hadn't even been buttoned up properly, so he'd obviously been in a bit of a hurry to get over here. No idea why he couldn't use a phone like everyone else on this planet, but I wasn't gonna sweat it while I had a cup of Kopi luwak still piping hot on my desk. Ignore the fact that they had to literally pick the beans out of weasel shit and it was some good stuff.
"There are seven more people *dead* Jack, how in the hell am I supposed to explain that?"
Yeah, not a happy camper, I took a deep sip of the drink and let the aroma travel deep into my nose before I deigned to answer, "I don't know. I don't care. We've got a fucking deal Rick, and you've done it before. Hell, if Laredo is keeping things quiet while those Hacienda boys and I shoot it out, you can fucking manage it up here. This place is a walk in the park with a pretty girl compared to down at the border."
"Could you stop drinking that shit in front of me?" Rick roared, "Swear to God Jack, it isn't worth it. I've got pressure from eight different directions. I don't do something about this soon, I won't win reelection."
Oh yeah, he thought *he* was pissed he was about to learn a fucking lesson.
"Reelection?" I roared back, putting all the scorn I had into the word, "There ain't a man in this city who'd dare run against you. They know they wouldn't live to see the rest of the year!" I leveled my finger at his heart, and made sure my gaze flickered briefly to Marco behind him, "but I swear on *your fucking life*, you cross *me* and you won't live to see next week. Now get the *fuck* out of my office!"
Chen hauled the protesting Saenz right out of his chair, and damn near threw him out into the hallway. Now that was more like it, you tell a man to jump around here, he'd best jump as high as he fucking can immediately, then start asking about how high he should have jumped. No delay, couldn't waste time if you wanted to get the beans where they needed to go.
The kettle in the kitchen behind the office started to whistle, and I smiled. Now that asshole was dealt with, I had a cup of Los Planes to look forward to after the Kopi luwak.
--------------------------
The gravel crushed under my boots as I patted shoulders, shook hands, and pounded backs with the Laredo boys, "This one means a lot guys. We're putting those Hacienda boys right out of the game. After today, we'll be the only suppliers for anyone buying supplies coming out of Texas, after that it's on to California. That all starts with you!"
One way or another, this was ending today. I was losing too much money to these Hacienda assholes, and Texas was my turf. More grounds poured across the border here than anywhere else in the country, and it wasn't just some shit tier Folgers house blend selling at five bucks an ounce either.
We were outside a warehouse off Del Mar waiting for a truck. Word had reached our ears that the Hacienda boys were bringing in a big truck of Rwanda Blue Bourbon, and anything that big was gonna have a pretty big manpower cover on it. I had taken the liberty to borrow a couple cars from San Antonio's finest on the Mayor's request, and even a couple uniforms for some of my guys.
Eventually, they pulled the truck over, and someone apparently got eyes on the Hacienda boys - because the heavens opened up and the wrath of God started pouring out of the clear blue sky.
It's amazing what the better part of a dozen Colt 9mm SMG's sound like when they open up. It must be like the goddamn end of the world to be on the other end of. But it ended quickly enough, and as the dust settled nine of the Hacienda boys weren't gonna be getting up again.
I spat out another grounds packet on the chest of one of the Hacienda boys who was still trying his damn best to spit up some blood, and before I put in another wad I gave him a little wave, "Jack 'Blue Mountain' Hale says hello. If you live, tell your bosses to say goodbye, got me?"
Not waiting for an answer that wasn't gonna be coming from a dying man I stuck the next wad in between my molars and started to grind. I waved Marco and chen in behind me and headed for the car as the first sirens spun up in Laredo for the day. Good thing the boys in blue were overworked here already, or they might have made it around sooner.
As the car pulled out onto Del Mar headed for I-35, I was on top of the world. | |
[WP] Due to it's perceived negative effects and addictive nature, the possession and consumption of coffee is now illegal. You are one of America's most famous coffee bootleggers. | Nothing had changed inside the Starbucks. Turns out its success was never about the coffee. A group of unkempt students seemed to be trying to fall for the placebo effect with decafs but most of the customers were enjoying some sort of sugary milkshake. "Wait till they ban that too" I thought. The Starbucks was noisy and smelled of synthetic coffee, there wasn't a better place to meet the new supplier.
But I couldn't be the one to see him. One doesn't become one of the biggest caffeine distributors taking this kind of risks. So I just sat across the room from Vince, my "interviewer". We had been friends since college, but despite his loyalty, the guy was too simple to take important decisions in the organization. He was the best coffee tester we had, though.
I heard the door open and I looked up. There she was. She seemed way too flashy for the job but she fit the description word for word. Short, Asian and long white hair. Check, check and check. My informer should have told me she was beautiful, too. She was the kind of woman that could cloud someone's judgement. "Good thing Vince is into dudes", I thought with a smile. I turned my eyes away from her as she walked towards his table.
As soon as the woman sat down she took out a cup from her bag. Vince grabbed it slowly and took a sip. Now we wait. He seemed to like the taste but this business is all about the rush and it takes some time to fully analyze that.
I turned my gaze to my newspaper. "Congressman to resign after failing caffeine test". If only he had taken cocaine instead, like his colleagues. Too bad that wasn't an option for me. Back when Vince and I were roommates in uni, he brought some coke back after a party for us to try, but it had the opposite effect for me, putting me instantly to sleep while Vince rambled maniacally about his latest crush. He took good care of me in spite of it all.
I looked back at his table. The woman was writing on her phone as Vince looked happily at the clock on the wall. It was almost time for the sign. At exactly 4:14 he had to subtly knock on the table to value the quality of the product. I checked my watch. Five seconds to go. And there it is. One knock. Two knocks. Three knocks! Better than our usual supplier. And cheaper too. I pulled out my burner phone and told my main distributor to buy the first batch. As I was talking, Vince and the woman left.
When I hung up, I noticed the cup was still on the table. So unprofessional. I took it on my way out. It wasn't empty, though. My curiosity got the best of me and I gulped what was left.
"This isn't coffee" I mumbled as I felt my knees fail and my head started to feel light. | My name is Tim Horton and I own a store.
The people want coffee and I'll give them some more.
The coffee is banned everywhere, everyday.
But I'll give them their coffee if they're willing to pay. | |
[WP]A depressed alchemist brews a love potion, so he can love himself again. | From the Private Journal of Cornelius C. Humpherdinkle, Journeyman Alchemist
May 25th - Test #23 - Rosepetal, dessicated dove heart, mixed with drops of unicorn blood on the beach at sunset. Hair from target (self) used as emotional catalyst.
It works! I am the greatest! I just want to hold myself until I grow old and die, until the stars fall from the sky and crash into the sea. If only there was more of me to love, to share with the world! (Note, research cloning next?) If only I could stand next to myself for just one moment, to show me how I feel about me...
(Several lines of illegible text interspersed with self portraits follow)
May 26th - Addendum to test 23. Results are short lived, woke up this morning in a cornfield several miles from home, nude and clutching an effigy of myself. Evidence both on the effigy and my body indicates I may have been making love to it. I found burning the effigy to be somewhat satisfying before realizing it was crafted from my favorite coat, though the coat had already been destroyed in last night's indiscretions. Simply more proof I can't do anything right. Abandoning further experiments using unicorn blood due to cost and noted erratic behavior.
…
June 15th - Test #33 - Diamond dust, sugar, purified water from the pools of Venus, and peppermint. Effect to target first person seen - hand mirror used.
Potion produced overwhelming feeling of confusion and dissonance. Love engendered felt purely physical in nature, but did not affect my sexual preferences, so seeing self nude from the waist down was disappointing. Used potion from Test #16 to turn myself into a woman, but found gender preferences swapped with gender itself. Initially deployed holy water, kale and garlic solution as antidote. This failed, and I had to resort to calling the local apothecary for her formula, giving Susan another chance to bear witness to my failures. She must see me as worse than a worm, how often she must rescue me from my own ineptitude.
...
July 8th - Test #40 - Virgin tears, dried human placenta, olive oil, fermented in ring of power under full moon.
I DON'T THINK SHE WAS A VIRGIN. MY TEETH ARE MELTING THERE ARE SPIDERS UNDER MY SKIN OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD
(remainder of page illegible)
July 11th - Addendum to test #40. Woke up two days ago in Portsmith, wearing only my underpants and an extremely fancy feathered hat which I had never seen before. Sold hat to purchase a ride back to Evanshire. Arrived this morning, and spoke to the young Miss Murphy, the provider of the tears, who still claims virginal status. Suspect that placenta may have been from Mrs. Stanley's goat instead of her recent son. Mrs. Flannigan is expecting twins any day. Susan will likely be on hand for the birth - will request she procure ingredients for further tests.
…
July 14th - Test #42 - Holy water, crushed raven beak, a drop of quicksilver, mixed in silver chalice and sprinkled with hair from target (self)
July 15th - Results from test 42 were inconclusive. I simply sat completely still at my workbench after administering the potion. I was aware of the time, but felt devoid of all emotion or motivation to even record my results. Susan found me this morning, and administered her antidote. She is insisting that I take a break from this quest and have dinner with her. I felt it impolite to refuse, as she had come by with Mrs. Flannigan's placenta. Mrs. Flannigan thought it an odd request, but agreed that the coin Susan offered on my behalf would certainly help with the new babies.
July 16th - I had far too much to drink while dining with Susan. She confided in me how difficult courting is for a woman her age with no family and the shop to run and medicines to distribute to the “sick and the stupid”, and how most men expect she'd sell the shop and become a housewife. My tongue escaped me, and I let slip how beautiful she is and how those men are fools if they think chaining a swan would make it more beautiful. I claimed illness and left hurriedly.
July 17th - Test #43 - Formulation nearly identical to #40, drop of mercury substituted for lack of full moon.
There are indeed spiders in my skin. I feel as though this should distress me, but I find the sensation rather soothing, like a million tiny masseuses who happen to have climbed into my body. My teeth are soft, but not melting.
Is what I'm feeling love? I don't believe most people's descriptions include spiders (Note - perhaps I just need to tweak to get them into my stomach? Would they be distinguishable from butterflies, then?) I still think that objectively, I have failed at everything I have ever set out to do, but this does not bother me. (Note - Does anything bother me? My memory is fuzzy, but the spiders seemed bothersome last time). Whenever I consider the descriptions of love, I find I cannot shake the image of Susan's smiling face from my mind, like I cannot shake these spiders from my skin. This may be a failure. I shall wait till morning to decide.
July 18th - Susan found me and again administered an antidote. I determined test 43 to be yet another failure - not being bothered by something like thousands of spiders where there should be zero spiders presents problematic behavioral effects. I could not contain myself, and cried in front of her. When she prompted me for the cause of my distress, I suggested my inability to craft a love potion so that I might love myself, and pointed to the number of my failures.
She seemed surprised, and pointed to the results of Test #12, when I had grown wings and the ability to fly, and Test #28, when I had become fireproof, and Test #6 when I temporarily gained the ability to walk on water, and suggested that any one of these, despite not being my intention, were still amazing in their own right, and would fetch high prices if I was inclined to sell them.
I reluctantly agreed, and suggested that it still brought me no closer to loving myself, to which she took my head in her hands, kissed me, and told me “Then maybe you can try letting someone who already does love you teach you how”.
Further experiments are on hold as I take her up on that offer. | The cauldron simmered lightly, its purple liquid bubbling up and down.
Octavius sniffed it.
Sour. Acidic. It might actually kill him if he drank it. He narrowed his eyes. Was that really such a bad thing? He shook his head. If he drank it at this stage, it would stimulate his nervous system so much that it would painfully contort his body against his will and snap his neck.
Octavius shivered.
Grounded-up unicorn ivory! A powerful muscle relaxant. That's just what it needed to be balanced out. Octavius opened the cupboard and brought out a small salt shaker, filled with the ivory. He then bit his lip, hesitating, flicked a pinch of the dust into the concoction, and waited.
The potion exploded with a green puff.
He leaned into the cauldron when the cloud dissipated.
It was... orange now.
Octavius furrowed his brow. It shouldn't look like that. He sniffed again. Cinnamon. It definitely shouldn't smell like that.
No doubt about it; the potion was ruined. He sighed and sat back on his stool, hanging his head. That was months worth of wages gone in wasted ingredients. He even slept hungry a few nights to afford siren glands.
Pathetic.
Octavius knew it was a tough brew, specially since a spoiled batch could lead to unwanted secondary effects like insanity. Where did he go wrong? It should've worked. He followed the ancient scrolls as much as he could, but he still had to improvise a lot of missing steps. Did he heat it too much? Or maybe he didn't purify the ouroboros urine well enough. Difficult to tell. One couldn't just ask around for tips on love potions, though. It was forbidden knowledge. He had to figure it out by himself, like the ancient masters.
Hubris, thought Octavius. The mark of a small man. As if he could ever succeed where the much more talented have failed. Did they too hate themselves as much as he did, or were they just trying to get laid?
Octavius stood up and paced around his lab. A small cave on the side of a mountain, far from anyone's view. Small globes of soft light hovered silently on the walls, illuminating everything as well as electric light bulbs would. He didn't live here, of course. He had an apartment downtown, but this was safer. Specially since it wasn't strictly legal by wizard standards.
He sighed.
It took him eight months of planning, a small fortune he had in savings, and it was all for nothing. How anticlimactic. He should've drank it when he was sure it would kill him.
Octavius chuckled. Never try a potion if you're not sure of what it will do. That's literally the first thing his alchemy teacher taught him. He looked at the cauldron and pursed his lips. Should he still do it? Theoretically speaking, the potion was harmless. The math worked out. It's just that the scrolls said that the end result should be pink and smell sweet. A small difference, but a potentially significant one.
He couldn't bear to live like this anymore. He had to do something. If he tried again, the wait wouldn't be eight months anymore. It wasn't about the ingredients, it was about the season. Magic is always strengthened during October. He wasn't strong enough to do it with his own willpower, so he had to wait another year to try again.
Another year of hell.
Octavius walked up to the cauldron and filled a large flask with the potion. With shaking hands, he then closed the distance between his lips and his mouth, stopping a few millimeters away.
This was stupid.
No! That was just his brain telling him not to do it. He could do this. He had to. Octavius hated himself. Why would he want what's best for him? If course he would resist it. He was terrified of happiness!
The alchemist took a swig of the potion.
He widened his eyes.
Nothing happened.
He clacked his tongue. It was... incredibly refreshing. And tasty! He drank some more and emptied the flask.
A pulse of energy struck him. It was gentle and warm. The hairs on his body stood up, leaving him sensitive to the small currents of air around him. A weight, a very painful burden on his shoulders was suddenly lifted. Living was tolerable. Pleasant.
Slowly, he sat on his stool and closed his eyes, staring into the eternal.
All this time he saw himself as separate from the universe, but he couldn't have been more wrong. Everything was connected. The line between the universe and Octavius never existed. He was it all along.
Octavius clenched his jaw. No that was wrong. It meant everything was fake. If he loved himself unconditionally, then it might as well mean nothing at all. It was worthless. If he were always loved, none of his actions would matter. He could be a horrible human being with no consequence whatsoever. Why even bother being a good person then?!?
Nausea. Octavius fell to his knees. His muscles spasmed uncontrollably. The world spun around him and he blacked out.
When Octavius woke up, what bothered wasn't that he didn't remember anything about the night before. Or the fact that he felt rejuvenated. Energized and happy. Incredibly strong. Powerful. Like he was in his twenties again, only in good shape this time.
He also wasn't bothered by the pile of freshly-severed corpses in front of him, though it did briefly shock him.
No, what bothered him was that the cauldron was empty, and he craved more of his potion.
------
> If you enjoyed this you can read more of my stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories! I'm writing a story every day until October ends and they're all set in the same universe, including this one. [You can find the first one here!](https://www.reddit.com/r/WeirdEmoKidStories/comments/75mqsd/wp_when_you_were_nine_years_old_you_played_a_game/) | |
[WP]A depressed alchemist brews a love potion, so he can love himself again. | It had been so long that Gerald had forgotten the feeling. The feeling of feeling. For years now he had been this empty husk. Nothing inside of him. Just a pit. An empty void. The one thing he could still feel was hatred. Hatred for himself. Hatred for the world. Hatred for the gods for cursing him with this emptiness.
He had spent months crafting this potion. Talk of a love potion was common in the empire, but most scholars and magi said that it couldn't be done. Gerald, however, had a theory that just might work. They say there's a fine line between love and hate, so maybe if that line could be blurred...
The potion was risky. If it didn't work Gerald would die, but at this point, he didn't care about death. He would be happy to die. The only way to blur the line between love and hate would be to poison it. To kill it off. But if the potion didn't target that separation, then the poison was sure to kill him.
He needed a way to direct that poison. A symbol of hatred and a symbol of love. Those together should be enough to direct it. Then he would just have to boil it in fresh water from the river and it should work.
His cauldron was boiling now, so he had to work fast. First the poison. He crushed the devilsroot between two stones. The juices flowing out of it, dripping into the cauldron. The water sizzled on contact. A small dark cloud rose from the surface.
"A symbol of love." He mumbled to himself as he reached for the enchanted flower petals. With a small incantation and a flick of the wrist, the petals floated right above the water. The heat drew out the essence of the flower while the petals remained out of the potion, Gerald couldn't risk contamination.
"And a symbol of hate." He said as he drew the knife he kept at his side. With his hand above the cauldron, he drew the blade across his palm. Gerald didn't even notice the pain of the cut. He had become so senseless, so empty, that he no longer felt pain. The blood dripped into the cauldron and he watched it mix together.
The potion had to be put directly into the bloodstream to be effective, so without a second thought, Gerald plunged his bleeding hand into the cauldron.
Nothing. Gerald didn't even feel the pain of boiling water bubbling across his skin. He began to cry. He thought that he would be able to feel joy. To love himself again. He thought he would be able to feel something. Even sadness...
A smile crept across his face as he realized what was happening. He was crying. He felt sad. Not the depressed emptiness he was used to, but real sadness. Followed by joy from this realization. Then the pain hit him. He yanked his hand from the cauldron. Searing pain coursing through it from the boiling water and the cut.
He yelped in pain. But his scream quickly turned to laughter. He fell to the floor tears streaming down his face. He looked out the window to see the full moon. A beautiful perfect circle giving off a faint glow that lit up his world. Then the smell hit. A horrific odor was filling his house. Most likely the devilsroot. He retched and heaved and spit up bile onto the floor. He looked at it. A disgusting yellowish-green.
Disgust. He felt disgust. The smell of the devilsroot. The taste and sight of the bile. He was utterly disgusted, and couldn't help but laugh for the second time. He sat there for a long time. Looking out the window. Seeing the trees. Seeing the colors of the books on his shelf. Different emotions came and went as Gerald lay on the ground until eventually one last emotion overpowered the rest. Happiness.
For the first time in years, Gerald was happy.
:D This prompt really stood out to me. I really liked it so thanks for posting it! I appreciate any criticism from anybody so if you found a problem please tell me! I hope you enjoyed reading it. For other writing of mine feel free to visit r/thesicklypeararchives I hope to have it up and running in a few days with more writing! | Alex waddled over to the flask, staring at it as it bubbled happily away. He took the faerie wings out of the pouch at his waist and began to chop them into fine pieces, until they were smaller than the nail on his pinky finger. He wiggled his fingers and the flask went from a boil to a light simmer, and he sprinkled in the wings. The potion turned into a disgusting pink color, so bright it almost hurt his eyes.
Alex took out a ladle, wooden- not that obsidian crap, and made four swirls, three clockwise and one counter-clockwise. After the minute hand on the beat up clock showed that forty three seconds had passed he waved his hand once more and the flask stopped cooking, steam rose from the still-hot liquid.
"And hair from the one with which the drink with enthrall its consumer," Alex recited to himself, gritting his teeth as he pulled a hair from his head.
He dropped the hair into the potion, and the potion swirled in upon itself, the color shifting from a neon pink to a navy blue.
"Here goes nothing," Alex said, and threw his head back and chugged the whole thing. He nearly spit it up, forgetting how hot it was.
*****
Alexander the Great's legacy lasted until 323 BC, and he conquered most of the civilized world before his "death." Rumors circulated that the legendary ruler had not died, but been taken up into Olympus by Zeus himself, to command the troops of the heavens.
r/ShuckleScribbles
| |
[WP] Everyones heard of a guardian angel but theres been some sort of mix up and you were given a guardian demon. | Being a cop has not been the easiest job. For 10 years I have worked the streets of Detroit. It's not been an easy 10 years. I've been stabbed, shot at, I've been in my fair share of fights and have the scars and medical problems to show for it. But I love my job. Between the domestic disputes, car wrecks, assaults, and everything bad, there have been those times that, for the grace of God, I have been in the right place in the right time to make a difference or save a life. I was real proud of the life saving awards hanging up in my office.
Today was like most days, a few traffic accidents, a robbery WTH plenty of witnesses that didn't see anything. I was just thinking about what I wanted for lunch when my radio sounded.
"7 David 6, Report of an armed robbery, 56th and Winston"
"Signal 1 DPD, show me code"
I flipped on my lights and stomped the gas. I was only 2 blocks away, and I would be the first one there by a long shot. As I screamed around the corner I let dispatch know I was on scene.
I have worked a few bank robberies before. I've never been the first one there, and never while the suspects were still in the building.
As I certainly to a stop around the corner, I jumped out of my car and drew my weapon, taking the corner and finally getting a look at the front door. A tan Ford was idling right in front of the bank, and the driver was wearing a Hulk mask. Real original.
I could hear sirens coming, but not quick enough to form up and head inside. I stayed on my corner, watching the driver.
All the fire marshalls I've ever met love their job. Putting the hammer down on places for not meeting code was both business and pleasure for them. I mention this because this bank was old. Real old. Old enough to not have a back door. But the Marshall had been around last month and after a few strongly worded letters and a threat to bar the doors, this bank had put a side door in really quickly.
Did I mention that I had been on vacation for 2 weeks?
Standing there watching my corner, waiting for backup to arrive, I was taken by surprise when the 2 suspects came out of that brand new door, about 30 feet behind me.
"Oh shit!"
I don't remember who had said that, might have been me.
The lead suspect leveled his gun at me as I turned around. He had me dead to rights. The only thing I could think was that I should have taken 3 weeks instead of 2. There was a sharp crack and all I saw was red.
Turns out the suspects were as surprised as I was. At least the guy in the back was, when he ran into his partner, who had abruptly stopped when he saw me. Bad guy 2 had his finger of the trigger, and blew his buddies brains out, with a shotgun. Pointed straight up. Not the safest direction. Getaway driver sped off when he heard the shots.
I was laying on the ground, wiping the blood and brain matter off my face when a hand reached out to me.
"You alright officer?"
Standing over me with his hand outstretched was a man in the nicest suit I have ever seen. I took his hand and stood up. I turned to look at my suspects. DRT.
Looking back at the sharp dressed man, I must have still been in shock, because i don't remember asking his name.
"Damian", he said, with a short smile.
| Look, kid, you might be having problems with the kids at school, but if you call me in, I'll be happy to collect spines for you. Just give me some names and your yearbook, and I'll just wait at their busstop after school. You wanna watch? | |
[WP] Everyones heard of a guardian angel but theres been some sort of mix up and you were given a guardian demon. | Guardian Devil
I was late for work. Again.
Lumbering down the stairs, I snatched my keys off the table, bumping into a chair and sending it down to the floor with a clatter. Ignoring it and shoving my keys into my pocket, I pulled my shoes on and flew out the door.
However, in my excitement I had forgotten to tie my shoes. While I was running down the stairs to the driveway, I tripped, sending myself flying head over heels toward the hard pavement.
Or at least I would have, if I hadn’t come to a dead stop mid-air.
I blinked rapidly, looking around myself in confusion. Yep, still floating. I closed my eyes, thinking of my bed which was probably still warm. I laid my head back, dreaming of my memory foam pillow. Yes, that was it. I could feel the sheets right now. In fact, wasn’t it time to go to work?
“Alright, I’m waking up now,” I mumbled, rubbing my eyes lethargically before opening them.
Instead of floating in my driveway, my body was now half outside my doorway and half inside my house. In my kitchen, I heard a chair fall to the floor again.
***Uh…***
“Oh God, I’m hallucinating,” I mumbled, trying and failing to lean forward to tie my shoes.
***Don’t you swear at me.***
“What the fuck?”
***That’s more like it.***
“Shit,” I said, trying and failing to force myself to my feet. I seemed to be frozen in mid-air.
“Hey asshole, let me up,” I growled, and in my desperation, I reached towards the door handle to help lift myself up. It didn’t work.
Instead, the door flew towards me. I quickly raised my hands to protect my face, closing my eyes as I prepared for the imminent pain. After a few moments of trepidation, I opened my eyes, only to see the door stopped an inch away from my face.
“What are you, my guardian angel?” I groaned, flopping backwards and slamming my head off the doorframe.
***More like a guardian devil.***
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I muttered, reaching up to rub my head as it throbbed. I was really going to be late for work today.
***Hail Satan?***
I flopped back again, banging my head off the wall this time.
“Just get me to work on time,” I said, which instead caused me to be unceremoniously dropped to the ground.
***That’s not something I can really do,*** the voice said matter-of-factly. ***See, you were supposed to get a guardian angel, but for some reason you got me instead. I’m supposed to be losing at pool right now, and the only pool around here is the one you are making in your pants.***
“Can you blame me?” I said angrily, ignoring the voice’s dig as I climbed to my feet. “I’m trying to be late for work here, and instead I get accosted by Jasper the Douchebag Ghost. How am I supposed to react to this?”
**How the fuck should I know? The point is, you have to give me a good reason to help you. I was trying to save the pavement from its first meet and greet with your face, and in return all I get is this bitching and moaning. Maybe next time I’ll just sit here and watch you break your ugly mug, at least then I’ll be entertained.**
“So, you are supposed to protect me, right?” I said, wearily leaning against the doorframe. At this point I just wanted to go back to bed.
***Yeah.***
“Protect me from my boss,” I said desperately, my steps slow and cautious as I began walking down to my car. My shoes were still untied, after all, and I had to be careful.
***... Aight.***
| Look, kid, you might be having problems with the kids at school, but if you call me in, I'll be happy to collect spines for you. Just give me some names and your yearbook, and I'll just wait at their busstop after school. You wanna watch? | |
[WP] Everyones heard of a guardian angel but theres been some sort of mix up and you were given a guardian demon. | Getting lost is practically a hobby of mine. Ever since I was a young girl I would wander off into the woods behind my house with my cat companion. That cat, Percilla, followed me everywhere I went, no matter how far. Sometimes I think back to her and imagine that she was my guardian angel. Perhaps on some days, she was the only reason I ever found my way back home.
Unfortunately, I don’t have that cat anymore. She eventually died of old age, but even in her senior years she hiked with me. After her death, the trails didn’t feel quite the same. I hiked anyway. Something in my body simply ached to be in the forest. It was almost like there was a magnetic anomaly pulling me into the trees. I stopped walking as deep as I used to, though. In fact, I now had a stopping point in which I would force myself to turn around once I hit. It was about two miles into the woods, and it was where Percilla and I would rest. This also happened to be the spot where I buried my beloved explorer companion.
Usually I would just sit for a while and admire my surroundings. Some days I would leave treats on the stone where I marked Percilla’s grave, even though she would never enjoy another treat and the wildlife were eventually finding and eating them instead. Still, though, I loved and missed Percilla dearly. As silly as it might be, leaving treats for her was my way of telling her so.
Yesterday I decided to give my old girl a visit. I slipped on my rain jacket and my hiking boots, and loaded my backpack with some snacks and water, and some cat treats. I set off into the woods behind my house feeling somewhat anxious, though I couldn’t place why.
Once I reached Percilla's resting spot, I sat and opened a granola bar for myself. After finishing my snack, I placed the cat treats gingerly onto the rock I used for a headstone. At this point it began to drizzle, but I wasn't ready to head back towards home yet. I was prepared for the rain and even if I hadn't been it had never stopped me or cut a hike short before.
In fact, something about the rain urged me to veer deeper into the forest. I knew about another quarter mile or so ahead the trees and vegetation began to thicken. It had been so long since I'd wandered further than the very spot I was sitting, but for some reason I couldn't help but stand and walk further into the thicket.
I don't know how long I'd been hiking. Time completely slipped away from me somehow. I was being propelled by something other than my own will, and try as I might I couldn't turn around.
The sun was starting to set. It's October, so it had to be around 6:30pm for the sun to start setting. I left my house at noon and I'd reached Percilla's grave around 12:45. Where the fuck was I?
That was when I saw it. It was Percilla. She was standing right in front of me, slowly swishing her grey, fluffy tail. What was I thinking? Was I hallucinating? Had I drank any water that entire time? I reached out to her, and she came to me. I touched her back, and I could actually feel her. Could this be real?
She purred as I scratched her behind her ears. If this was just some random cat out in the middle of nowhere, it definitely looked and sounded just like my old girl did. It was so creepy.
Suddenly, the cat took off running. And just liked Percilla used to follow me on our hikes, I followed her. Another ten minutes or so and we reached her destination...it was a well in the ground, covered by a rotting piece of wood. Percilla opened her maw and sunk her teeth into the cover, pulling it away from the pit.
She stood there, gazing back and forth between me and the well. I got the overwhelming sensation that she wanted me to jump in.
Feeling spooked and out of my mind, I took off running back in the direction towards home. I'd gone straight the entire time, if I just kept running eventually I'd make it home.
Fortunately enough for me, I did make it back.
Today, I'm writing this because I'm about to go for another hike. I've already laced up my boots and I have a bag full of treats for Percilla. Perhaps all this time she had actually been leading me through the woods rather than the other way around.
Anyways, today I'm going to go see girl. It feels good to know my guardian angel is still out there.
| Look, kid, you might be having problems with the kids at school, but if you call me in, I'll be happy to collect spines for you. Just give me some names and your yearbook, and I'll just wait at their busstop after school. You wanna watch? | |
[WP] Everyones heard of a guardian angel but theres been some sort of mix up and you were given a guardian demon. | Once I was a child,
much like everyone else, except I was slightly misunderstood, I believe. My pastor used to pray for me each Sunday, to bless my future and for good guidance. One day he pulled my mother aside, "why don't you wait for us over there Danny, I need to speak to your mother." I waited in the children's playroom and looked through the small window to the pew. Although inaudible, I noticed that as the pastor spoke, my mother's face grew into a look of worry and terror that I had never seen before.
Usually, when my mother needs someone to talk to she calls aunt Julia. Today she spoke with aunt Julia for several hours. I thought nothing of it, I was too worried about Batman's next heroic feat against the Joker.
The next day I saw my best friend Billy with a pack of collectible baseball cards. Billy showed off to the whole class as we all "oohd and awwed." After our usual game of heads up 7-up, I noticed that Billy had forgotten his backpack in his cubby. I naturally opened it and found his baseball cards. I picked out the cards and stuffed them into my jacket pocket.
The next day in school, Billy came to class crying with his mommy by his side. The teacher pleaded to the class, "please return Billy's cards if you find them, class, this is very serious."
I knew exactly what to do. When Jason, Billy's brother, didn't give me his Batman toy, I hid Billy's baseball cards in his back pack. Later that day, Jason, will get in trouble. It was only fair that I show him that he deserved to get in trouble.
In high school, I met a group of good kids. Each had a good heart, and cared about their family, especially when it came to buying them gifts and surprises. We would find money in locker rooms, the principals office, and fundraiser boxes during spring term. We were hard workers, so we inevitably succeeded.
When we became 21, we learned that humans could be very cruel. One day we saw our neighbor Ted beating his dog, we had to beat him, until his heart stopped beating, this was only fair.
During college, we learned that the world was a very competitive place. A group of kids noticed that we had too much money for ourselves and wanted some of our pie. They jumped us in the back of the school and took some of our hard earned money. It was only right that we took everything from their homes and left the same kids floating in a river. We laid flowers at their caskets.
When we turned 25, we learned that armored trucks were easy to earn money from. There was usually one or two employees who we had to get past. One day, we found a job at our local bank, many employees had to be put down because of their unwillingness to cooperate, it was a shame.
On counts of over 21 murders and extortion, we were sentenced to life. It was strange that it happened this way, but I knew I was doing what was right, deep down in my heart and soul.
To this day I think back at all those times, and I'm so glad that I had good guidance. You see, I realized that I'm not alone and that I will make it through these times of tribulation.
As I sat in my cell, I looked over to my shoulder and felt an assuring hand comfort me. It was the same hand, the same presence looking back at me as I stared through the church window at my mother, and the same presence that gave me wisdom. Which is why I know that I will never be alone.
The comforting red eyes looked back at me through the mirrors reflection, and I smiled. | Look, kid, you might be having problems with the kids at school, but if you call me in, I'll be happy to collect spines for you. Just give me some names and your yearbook, and I'll just wait at their busstop after school. You wanna watch? | |
[WP] Everyones heard of a guardian angel but theres been some sort of mix up and you were given a guardian demon. | Alright. So you wanted to know why you got me? Well, lets start off with the fact that this isnt some great cosmic mix up or anything. This was meant to happen.
Im your guardian demon kiddo. Thats all there is to it.
Yes I have wings. No you cant see them.
Why not? Because I said so. Dont like it? Oh well.
Any other questions before we begin? Alright.
This doesn't change anything. You're gonna keep going around your daily life, and I wont interfere. I keep you safe from anything that might try to hurt you, and you let me out to explore and do my own stuff, got it?
Whats the catch? Whatever happened to no questions? There is no catch. My being your guardian won't threaten your eternal soul or any of that other crap. Its a conflict of interest to do anything threatening your well being. As for the well being of others, thats another story.
Anyone who looks at you wrong is probably gonna end up dead. Thats just fair warning. Dont look at me like that, I take this shit seriously. The last thing I need is for you to hook up with some hunk who breaks your heart and then you jump off a bridge at 14.
Thats not interfering! Thats preventative measures! Im already looking out for you and we just met today. What a great guy I am right?
Look, we'll take it one day at a time and i'll fill you in as we going along. That cool? Alright! Now lets get this show on the road. | Look, kid, you might be having problems with the kids at school, but if you call me in, I'll be happy to collect spines for you. Just give me some names and your yearbook, and I'll just wait at their busstop after school. You wanna watch? | |
[WP] Everyones heard of a guardian angel but theres been some sort of mix up and you were given a guardian demon. | I can remember every single event of my life. From birth until now, I remember. All the bad things that have happened to me, I cannot forget - not from lack of trying.
I remember my father relentlessly beating my mother. I was only a year old the day she finally had enough of it. She picked me up from grandma's and we went home. She played with me on the couch, I still remember the tears in her eyes as she tickled me. I didn’t understand then... My father arrived, drunk as always. The yelling began. Punches were thrown. He grew tired and fell asleep into his drunk slumber. My mom, broken, picked me up and carried me to my crib. She gave me many kisses and hugs. She sang to me….tears are rolling down my eyes as I write this...You are my sunshine. My only sunshine. She gave me one last kiss as she laid me down. Covered me with a blanket. And left. That was the last time I saw my mother, but I remember her as clearly now as I do then. My grandmother took me in after that.
When I was a child, I thought everyone could see Justin. He once broke a very special toy of mine just to make me cry. My grandma was confused on why I would purposefully break my toy and blame it on “my friend”. He’d take my grandfather’s wallet or keys and hide them. Just to watch them get angry with me. I wasn’t an evil child. I did my best to make them happy. Justin just didn’t like me having attention.
As a teenager, I was in a pretty bad car accident. The driver was drunk and speeding. It was dark and pouring rain. The brakes squealed and the tires burned. The car was crushed. I had to be cut out. The driver and the other passenger died on impact. I walked away with a few bruises and scratches. Justin shielded me from the tree branch that would have pierced through my skull. My grandmother would say I had a guardian angel watching over me that night...
Now that I’m older, I know others can’t see Justin so I don’t talk to him. I don’t have many friends...but when everyone you care about dies, it’s hard to keep them. I’ve tried killing myself several times. I put a bullet in the gun. I cocked it. I pulled the trigger. Doctors were stumped when I left the hospital with only a gunshot burn to the temple. I’ve never found that bullet.
I’m a very successful person. I own thirty-seven houses. I rent them out. In the past, I invested the money to make more money. Now I’m worth several million dollars. Money doesn’t buy happiness. I give everything extra away to charity. I’m still not happy.
Even when I ignore Justin, he still talks to me.
Why are you even trying.
No one loves you.
Your mother left you.
Your father wanted you dead.
I saved you.
Not once.
Not twice.
I’ve saved you from everyone.
Even yourself.
You want to be dead.
I won’t let that happen.
Let your soul go.
I want your body for myself.
| Look, kid, you might be having problems with the kids at school, but if you call me in, I'll be happy to collect spines for you. Just give me some names and your yearbook, and I'll just wait at their busstop after school. You wanna watch? | |
[WP] Everyones heard of a guardian angel but theres been some sort of mix up and you were given a guardian demon. | Waterloo, Ontario felt like a big city to me. I grew up in a town of 600 outside a community of 3,000 so moving to a region of a million was huge. But I got into one of the best accounting programs in the country and I was going to succeed. I didn’t have goals for specific jobs but I had designs on a lifestyle that only money could afford me.
My mother had sat me down and given me the talk before I moved.
“Now Callie, remember, this isn’t Midgic. Don’t take drinks from anyone you don’t know, walk home in pairs, don’t be out too late in the dark alone, and you have to stop hitchhiking in the city. It’s safe here but not out there,” she cautioned. I nodded and promised to be safe.
But it was sometime after 1 a.m. and I had broken my mother’s rules. I was walking home in the dark and out later than a good girl should be. I lived on my own and I didn’t have to obey her anymore.
I listened to Shad, to USS, to Chase and Status as I walked not my mother’s words of caution.
I remember the car sat under the spotlight. Not on and active but something about it made me nervous. As if it moved when it shouldn’t, like out of the corner of my eye I could see something else about it. But I had to pass the car.
I was so near to home, it was just four doors down from that streetlight. It was late for me and the friend’s place I was coming from was 8 kilometres as the crow flies. The walk had drained me.
As I got closer I realized my discomfort was from seeing someone inside the car. Moving around, jostling the car. I told myself I was being silly, people stay out late and walk in the dark all the time in safety. I would learn to be one of those people.
Twenty feet away and I heard the car door open before I saw it. It was sudden, this man was in front of me, nearly touching me and I heard nothing but the music in my headphones. I reached to take the headphones out of my ears when I saw a flash of light, orange reflection in his hand catching the streetlamps go.
I took a breath to scream when he fell away from me, I stumbled back from him to see a black dog savagely biting his face and chest. I ran for my home to see the dog look after me – the animal had just saved my life and I was going to leave him outside to be caught by police and euthanized?
No, that wasn’t right.
“C’mere puppy,” I said softly. The massive animal took a couple tentative steps toward me. “C’mon buddy, I’ll get you something to eat.”
At the word eat the dog loped toward me. I let him into my small basement apartment and found the pizza in the fridge I’d been thinking about eating. I warmed it slightly so it was soft and split it between the giant animal and I.
He seemed to think himself my lapdog but I knew what he truly was.
*OT: I really loved this prompt but there are so many amazing writers who really captured the spirit of it, I wanted to try something different. If you want more of Callie's Hellhound, let me know.* | Look, kid, you might be having problems with the kids at school, but if you call me in, I'll be happy to collect spines for you. Just give me some names and your yearbook, and I'll just wait at their busstop after school. You wanna watch? | |
[WP] Everyones heard of a guardian angel but theres been some sort of mix up and you were given a guardian demon. | Getting lost is practically a hobby of mine. Ever since I was a young girl I would wander off into the woods behind my house with my cat companion. That cat, Percilla, followed me everywhere I went, no matter how far. Sometimes I think back to her and imagine that she was my guardian angel. Perhaps on some days, she was the only reason I ever found my way back home.
Unfortunately, I don’t have that cat anymore. She eventually died of old age, but even in her senior years she hiked with me. After her death, the trails didn’t feel quite the same. I hiked anyway. Something in my body simply ached to be in the forest. It was almost like there was a magnetic anomaly pulling me into the trees. I stopped walking as deep as I used to, though. In fact, I now had a stopping point in which I would force myself to turn around once I hit. It was about two miles into the woods, and it was where Percilla and I would rest. This also happened to be the spot where I buried my beloved explorer companion.
Usually I would just sit for a while and admire my surroundings. Some days I would leave treats on the stone where I marked Percilla’s grave, even though she would never enjoy another treat and the wildlife were eventually finding and eating them instead. Still, though, I loved and missed Percilla dearly. As silly as it might be, leaving treats for her was my way of telling her so.
Yesterday I decided to give my old girl a visit. I slipped on my rain jacket and my hiking boots, and loaded my backpack with some snacks and water, and some cat treats. I set off into the woods behind my house feeling somewhat anxious, though I couldn’t place why.
Once I reached Percilla's resting spot, I sat and opened a granola bar for myself. After finishing my snack, I placed the cat treats gingerly onto the rock I used for a headstone. At this point it began to drizzle, but I wasn't ready to head back towards home yet. I was prepared for the rain and even if I hadn't been it had never stopped me or cut a hike short before.
In fact, something about the rain urged me to veer deeper into the forest. I knew about another quarter mile or so ahead the trees and vegetation began to thicken. It had been so long since I'd wandered further than the very spot I was sitting, but for some reason I couldn't help but stand and walk further into the thicket.
I don't know how long I'd been hiking. Time completely slipped away from me somehow. I was being propelled by something other than my own will, and try as I might I couldn't turn around.
The sun was starting to set. It's October, so it had to be around 6:30pm for the sun to start setting. I left my house at noon and I'd reached Percilla's grave around 12:45. Where the fuck was I?
That was when I saw it. It was Percilla. She was standing right in front of me, slowly swishing her grey, fluffy tail. What was I thinking? Was I hallucinating? Had I drank any water that entire time? I reached out to her, and she came to me. I touched her back, and I could actually feel her. Could this be real?
She purred as I scratched her behind her ears. If this was just some random cat out in the middle of nowhere, it definitely looked and sounded just like my old girl did. It was so creepy.
Suddenly, the cat took off running. And just liked Percilla used to follow me on our hikes, I followed her. Another ten minutes or so and we reached her destination...it was a well in the ground, covered by a rotting piece of wood. Percilla opened her maw and sunk her teeth into the cover, pulling it away from the pit.
She stood there, gazing back and forth between me and the well. I got the overwhelming sensation that she wanted me to jump in.
Feeling spooked and out of my mind, I took off running back in the direction towards home. I'd gone straight the entire time, if I just kept running eventually I'd make it home.
Fortunately enough for me, I did make it back.
Today, I'm writing this because I'm about to go for another hike. I've already laced up my boots and I have a bag full of treats for Percilla. Perhaps all this time she had actually been leading me through the woods rather than the other way around.
Anyways, today I'm going to go see girl. It feels good to know my guardian angel is still out there.
| Being a cop has not been the easiest job. For 10 years I have worked the streets of Detroit. It's not been an easy 10 years. I've been stabbed, shot at, I've been in my fair share of fights and have the scars and medical problems to show for it. But I love my job. Between the domestic disputes, car wrecks, assaults, and everything bad, there have been those times that, for the grace of God, I have been in the right place in the right time to make a difference or save a life. I was real proud of the life saving awards hanging up in my office.
Today was like most days, a few traffic accidents, a robbery WTH plenty of witnesses that didn't see anything. I was just thinking about what I wanted for lunch when my radio sounded.
"7 David 6, Report of an armed robbery, 56th and Winston"
"Signal 1 DPD, show me code"
I flipped on my lights and stomped the gas. I was only 2 blocks away, and I would be the first one there by a long shot. As I screamed around the corner I let dispatch know I was on scene.
I have worked a few bank robberies before. I've never been the first one there, and never while the suspects were still in the building.
As I certainly to a stop around the corner, I jumped out of my car and drew my weapon, taking the corner and finally getting a look at the front door. A tan Ford was idling right in front of the bank, and the driver was wearing a Hulk mask. Real original.
I could hear sirens coming, but not quick enough to form up and head inside. I stayed on my corner, watching the driver.
All the fire marshalls I've ever met love their job. Putting the hammer down on places for not meeting code was both business and pleasure for them. I mention this because this bank was old. Real old. Old enough to not have a back door. But the Marshall had been around last month and after a few strongly worded letters and a threat to bar the doors, this bank had put a side door in really quickly.
Did I mention that I had been on vacation for 2 weeks?
Standing there watching my corner, waiting for backup to arrive, I was taken by surprise when the 2 suspects came out of that brand new door, about 30 feet behind me.
"Oh shit!"
I don't remember who had said that, might have been me.
The lead suspect leveled his gun at me as I turned around. He had me dead to rights. The only thing I could think was that I should have taken 3 weeks instead of 2. There was a sharp crack and all I saw was red.
Turns out the suspects were as surprised as I was. At least the guy in the back was, when he ran into his partner, who had abruptly stopped when he saw me. Bad guy 2 had his finger of the trigger, and blew his buddies brains out, with a shotgun. Pointed straight up. Not the safest direction. Getaway driver sped off when he heard the shots.
I was laying on the ground, wiping the blood and brain matter off my face when a hand reached out to me.
"You alright officer?"
Standing over me with his hand outstretched was a man in the nicest suit I have ever seen. I took his hand and stood up. I turned to look at my suspects. DRT.
Looking back at the sharp dressed man, I must have still been in shock, because i don't remember asking his name.
"Damian", he said, with a short smile.
| |
[WP] Everyones heard of a guardian angel but theres been some sort of mix up and you were given a guardian demon. | Once I was a child,
much like everyone else, except I was slightly misunderstood, I believe. My pastor used to pray for me each Sunday, to bless my future and for good guidance. One day he pulled my mother aside, "why don't you wait for us over there Danny, I need to speak to your mother." I waited in the children's playroom and looked through the small window to the pew. Although inaudible, I noticed that as the pastor spoke, my mother's face grew into a look of worry and terror that I had never seen before.
Usually, when my mother needs someone to talk to she calls aunt Julia. Today she spoke with aunt Julia for several hours. I thought nothing of it, I was too worried about Batman's next heroic feat against the Joker.
The next day I saw my best friend Billy with a pack of collectible baseball cards. Billy showed off to the whole class as we all "oohd and awwed." After our usual game of heads up 7-up, I noticed that Billy had forgotten his backpack in his cubby. I naturally opened it and found his baseball cards. I picked out the cards and stuffed them into my jacket pocket.
The next day in school, Billy came to class crying with his mommy by his side. The teacher pleaded to the class, "please return Billy's cards if you find them, class, this is very serious."
I knew exactly what to do. When Jason, Billy's brother, didn't give me his Batman toy, I hid Billy's baseball cards in his back pack. Later that day, Jason, will get in trouble. It was only fair that I show him that he deserved to get in trouble.
In high school, I met a group of good kids. Each had a good heart, and cared about their family, especially when it came to buying them gifts and surprises. We would find money in locker rooms, the principals office, and fundraiser boxes during spring term. We were hard workers, so we inevitably succeeded.
When we became 21, we learned that humans could be very cruel. One day we saw our neighbor Ted beating his dog, we had to beat him, until his heart stopped beating, this was only fair.
During college, we learned that the world was a very competitive place. A group of kids noticed that we had too much money for ourselves and wanted some of our pie. They jumped us in the back of the school and took some of our hard earned money. It was only right that we took everything from their homes and left the same kids floating in a river. We laid flowers at their caskets.
When we turned 25, we learned that armored trucks were easy to earn money from. There was usually one or two employees who we had to get past. One day, we found a job at our local bank, many employees had to be put down because of their unwillingness to cooperate, it was a shame.
On counts of over 21 murders and extortion, we were sentenced to life. It was strange that it happened this way, but I knew I was doing what was right, deep down in my heart and soul.
To this day I think back at all those times, and I'm so glad that I had good guidance. You see, I realized that I'm not alone and that I will make it through these times of tribulation.
As I sat in my cell, I looked over to my shoulder and felt an assuring hand comfort me. It was the same hand, the same presence looking back at me as I stared through the church window at my mother, and the same presence that gave me wisdom. Which is why I know that I will never be alone.
The comforting red eyes looked back at me through the mirrors reflection, and I smiled. | Being a cop has not been the easiest job. For 10 years I have worked the streets of Detroit. It's not been an easy 10 years. I've been stabbed, shot at, I've been in my fair share of fights and have the scars and medical problems to show for it. But I love my job. Between the domestic disputes, car wrecks, assaults, and everything bad, there have been those times that, for the grace of God, I have been in the right place in the right time to make a difference or save a life. I was real proud of the life saving awards hanging up in my office.
Today was like most days, a few traffic accidents, a robbery WTH plenty of witnesses that didn't see anything. I was just thinking about what I wanted for lunch when my radio sounded.
"7 David 6, Report of an armed robbery, 56th and Winston"
"Signal 1 DPD, show me code"
I flipped on my lights and stomped the gas. I was only 2 blocks away, and I would be the first one there by a long shot. As I screamed around the corner I let dispatch know I was on scene.
I have worked a few bank robberies before. I've never been the first one there, and never while the suspects were still in the building.
As I certainly to a stop around the corner, I jumped out of my car and drew my weapon, taking the corner and finally getting a look at the front door. A tan Ford was idling right in front of the bank, and the driver was wearing a Hulk mask. Real original.
I could hear sirens coming, but not quick enough to form up and head inside. I stayed on my corner, watching the driver.
All the fire marshalls I've ever met love their job. Putting the hammer down on places for not meeting code was both business and pleasure for them. I mention this because this bank was old. Real old. Old enough to not have a back door. But the Marshall had been around last month and after a few strongly worded letters and a threat to bar the doors, this bank had put a side door in really quickly.
Did I mention that I had been on vacation for 2 weeks?
Standing there watching my corner, waiting for backup to arrive, I was taken by surprise when the 2 suspects came out of that brand new door, about 30 feet behind me.
"Oh shit!"
I don't remember who had said that, might have been me.
The lead suspect leveled his gun at me as I turned around. He had me dead to rights. The only thing I could think was that I should have taken 3 weeks instead of 2. There was a sharp crack and all I saw was red.
Turns out the suspects were as surprised as I was. At least the guy in the back was, when he ran into his partner, who had abruptly stopped when he saw me. Bad guy 2 had his finger of the trigger, and blew his buddies brains out, with a shotgun. Pointed straight up. Not the safest direction. Getaway driver sped off when he heard the shots.
I was laying on the ground, wiping the blood and brain matter off my face when a hand reached out to me.
"You alright officer?"
Standing over me with his hand outstretched was a man in the nicest suit I have ever seen. I took his hand and stood up. I turned to look at my suspects. DRT.
Looking back at the sharp dressed man, I must have still been in shock, because i don't remember asking his name.
"Damian", he said, with a short smile.
| |
[WP] Everyones heard of a guardian angel but theres been some sort of mix up and you were given a guardian demon. | Alright. So you wanted to know why you got me? Well, lets start off with the fact that this isnt some great cosmic mix up or anything. This was meant to happen.
Im your guardian demon kiddo. Thats all there is to it.
Yes I have wings. No you cant see them.
Why not? Because I said so. Dont like it? Oh well.
Any other questions before we begin? Alright.
This doesn't change anything. You're gonna keep going around your daily life, and I wont interfere. I keep you safe from anything that might try to hurt you, and you let me out to explore and do my own stuff, got it?
Whats the catch? Whatever happened to no questions? There is no catch. My being your guardian won't threaten your eternal soul or any of that other crap. Its a conflict of interest to do anything threatening your well being. As for the well being of others, thats another story.
Anyone who looks at you wrong is probably gonna end up dead. Thats just fair warning. Dont look at me like that, I take this shit seriously. The last thing I need is for you to hook up with some hunk who breaks your heart and then you jump off a bridge at 14.
Thats not interfering! Thats preventative measures! Im already looking out for you and we just met today. What a great guy I am right?
Look, we'll take it one day at a time and i'll fill you in as we going along. That cool? Alright! Now lets get this show on the road. | Being a cop has not been the easiest job. For 10 years I have worked the streets of Detroit. It's not been an easy 10 years. I've been stabbed, shot at, I've been in my fair share of fights and have the scars and medical problems to show for it. But I love my job. Between the domestic disputes, car wrecks, assaults, and everything bad, there have been those times that, for the grace of God, I have been in the right place in the right time to make a difference or save a life. I was real proud of the life saving awards hanging up in my office.
Today was like most days, a few traffic accidents, a robbery WTH plenty of witnesses that didn't see anything. I was just thinking about what I wanted for lunch when my radio sounded.
"7 David 6, Report of an armed robbery, 56th and Winston"
"Signal 1 DPD, show me code"
I flipped on my lights and stomped the gas. I was only 2 blocks away, and I would be the first one there by a long shot. As I screamed around the corner I let dispatch know I was on scene.
I have worked a few bank robberies before. I've never been the first one there, and never while the suspects were still in the building.
As I certainly to a stop around the corner, I jumped out of my car and drew my weapon, taking the corner and finally getting a look at the front door. A tan Ford was idling right in front of the bank, and the driver was wearing a Hulk mask. Real original.
I could hear sirens coming, but not quick enough to form up and head inside. I stayed on my corner, watching the driver.
All the fire marshalls I've ever met love their job. Putting the hammer down on places for not meeting code was both business and pleasure for them. I mention this because this bank was old. Real old. Old enough to not have a back door. But the Marshall had been around last month and after a few strongly worded letters and a threat to bar the doors, this bank had put a side door in really quickly.
Did I mention that I had been on vacation for 2 weeks?
Standing there watching my corner, waiting for backup to arrive, I was taken by surprise when the 2 suspects came out of that brand new door, about 30 feet behind me.
"Oh shit!"
I don't remember who had said that, might have been me.
The lead suspect leveled his gun at me as I turned around. He had me dead to rights. The only thing I could think was that I should have taken 3 weeks instead of 2. There was a sharp crack and all I saw was red.
Turns out the suspects were as surprised as I was. At least the guy in the back was, when he ran into his partner, who had abruptly stopped when he saw me. Bad guy 2 had his finger of the trigger, and blew his buddies brains out, with a shotgun. Pointed straight up. Not the safest direction. Getaway driver sped off when he heard the shots.
I was laying on the ground, wiping the blood and brain matter off my face when a hand reached out to me.
"You alright officer?"
Standing over me with his hand outstretched was a man in the nicest suit I have ever seen. I took his hand and stood up. I turned to look at my suspects. DRT.
Looking back at the sharp dressed man, I must have still been in shock, because i don't remember asking his name.
"Damian", he said, with a short smile.
| |
[WP] Everyones heard of a guardian angel but theres been some sort of mix up and you were given a guardian demon. | I can remember every single event of my life. From birth until now, I remember. All the bad things that have happened to me, I cannot forget - not from lack of trying.
I remember my father relentlessly beating my mother. I was only a year old the day she finally had enough of it. She picked me up from grandma's and we went home. She played with me on the couch, I still remember the tears in her eyes as she tickled me. I didn’t understand then... My father arrived, drunk as always. The yelling began. Punches were thrown. He grew tired and fell asleep into his drunk slumber. My mom, broken, picked me up and carried me to my crib. She gave me many kisses and hugs. She sang to me….tears are rolling down my eyes as I write this...You are my sunshine. My only sunshine. She gave me one last kiss as she laid me down. Covered me with a blanket. And left. That was the last time I saw my mother, but I remember her as clearly now as I do then. My grandmother took me in after that.
When I was a child, I thought everyone could see Justin. He once broke a very special toy of mine just to make me cry. My grandma was confused on why I would purposefully break my toy and blame it on “my friend”. He’d take my grandfather’s wallet or keys and hide them. Just to watch them get angry with me. I wasn’t an evil child. I did my best to make them happy. Justin just didn’t like me having attention.
As a teenager, I was in a pretty bad car accident. The driver was drunk and speeding. It was dark and pouring rain. The brakes squealed and the tires burned. The car was crushed. I had to be cut out. The driver and the other passenger died on impact. I walked away with a few bruises and scratches. Justin shielded me from the tree branch that would have pierced through my skull. My grandmother would say I had a guardian angel watching over me that night...
Now that I’m older, I know others can’t see Justin so I don’t talk to him. I don’t have many friends...but when everyone you care about dies, it’s hard to keep them. I’ve tried killing myself several times. I put a bullet in the gun. I cocked it. I pulled the trigger. Doctors were stumped when I left the hospital with only a gunshot burn to the temple. I’ve never found that bullet.
I’m a very successful person. I own thirty-seven houses. I rent them out. In the past, I invested the money to make more money. Now I’m worth several million dollars. Money doesn’t buy happiness. I give everything extra away to charity. I’m still not happy.
Even when I ignore Justin, he still talks to me.
Why are you even trying.
No one loves you.
Your mother left you.
Your father wanted you dead.
I saved you.
Not once.
Not twice.
I’ve saved you from everyone.
Even yourself.
You want to be dead.
I won’t let that happen.
Let your soul go.
I want your body for myself.
| Being a cop has not been the easiest job. For 10 years I have worked the streets of Detroit. It's not been an easy 10 years. I've been stabbed, shot at, I've been in my fair share of fights and have the scars and medical problems to show for it. But I love my job. Between the domestic disputes, car wrecks, assaults, and everything bad, there have been those times that, for the grace of God, I have been in the right place in the right time to make a difference or save a life. I was real proud of the life saving awards hanging up in my office.
Today was like most days, a few traffic accidents, a robbery WTH plenty of witnesses that didn't see anything. I was just thinking about what I wanted for lunch when my radio sounded.
"7 David 6, Report of an armed robbery, 56th and Winston"
"Signal 1 DPD, show me code"
I flipped on my lights and stomped the gas. I was only 2 blocks away, and I would be the first one there by a long shot. As I screamed around the corner I let dispatch know I was on scene.
I have worked a few bank robberies before. I've never been the first one there, and never while the suspects were still in the building.
As I certainly to a stop around the corner, I jumped out of my car and drew my weapon, taking the corner and finally getting a look at the front door. A tan Ford was idling right in front of the bank, and the driver was wearing a Hulk mask. Real original.
I could hear sirens coming, but not quick enough to form up and head inside. I stayed on my corner, watching the driver.
All the fire marshalls I've ever met love their job. Putting the hammer down on places for not meeting code was both business and pleasure for them. I mention this because this bank was old. Real old. Old enough to not have a back door. But the Marshall had been around last month and after a few strongly worded letters and a threat to bar the doors, this bank had put a side door in really quickly.
Did I mention that I had been on vacation for 2 weeks?
Standing there watching my corner, waiting for backup to arrive, I was taken by surprise when the 2 suspects came out of that brand new door, about 30 feet behind me.
"Oh shit!"
I don't remember who had said that, might have been me.
The lead suspect leveled his gun at me as I turned around. He had me dead to rights. The only thing I could think was that I should have taken 3 weeks instead of 2. There was a sharp crack and all I saw was red.
Turns out the suspects were as surprised as I was. At least the guy in the back was, when he ran into his partner, who had abruptly stopped when he saw me. Bad guy 2 had his finger of the trigger, and blew his buddies brains out, with a shotgun. Pointed straight up. Not the safest direction. Getaway driver sped off when he heard the shots.
I was laying on the ground, wiping the blood and brain matter off my face when a hand reached out to me.
"You alright officer?"
Standing over me with his hand outstretched was a man in the nicest suit I have ever seen. I took his hand and stood up. I turned to look at my suspects. DRT.
Looking back at the sharp dressed man, I must have still been in shock, because i don't remember asking his name.
"Damian", he said, with a short smile.
| |
[WP] Everyones heard of a guardian angel but theres been some sort of mix up and you were given a guardian demon. | Waterloo, Ontario felt like a big city to me. I grew up in a town of 600 outside a community of 3,000 so moving to a region of a million was huge. But I got into one of the best accounting programs in the country and I was going to succeed. I didn’t have goals for specific jobs but I had designs on a lifestyle that only money could afford me.
My mother had sat me down and given me the talk before I moved.
“Now Callie, remember, this isn’t Midgic. Don’t take drinks from anyone you don’t know, walk home in pairs, don’t be out too late in the dark alone, and you have to stop hitchhiking in the city. It’s safe here but not out there,” she cautioned. I nodded and promised to be safe.
But it was sometime after 1 a.m. and I had broken my mother’s rules. I was walking home in the dark and out later than a good girl should be. I lived on my own and I didn’t have to obey her anymore.
I listened to Shad, to USS, to Chase and Status as I walked not my mother’s words of caution.
I remember the car sat under the spotlight. Not on and active but something about it made me nervous. As if it moved when it shouldn’t, like out of the corner of my eye I could see something else about it. But I had to pass the car.
I was so near to home, it was just four doors down from that streetlight. It was late for me and the friend’s place I was coming from was 8 kilometres as the crow flies. The walk had drained me.
As I got closer I realized my discomfort was from seeing someone inside the car. Moving around, jostling the car. I told myself I was being silly, people stay out late and walk in the dark all the time in safety. I would learn to be one of those people.
Twenty feet away and I heard the car door open before I saw it. It was sudden, this man was in front of me, nearly touching me and I heard nothing but the music in my headphones. I reached to take the headphones out of my ears when I saw a flash of light, orange reflection in his hand catching the streetlamps go.
I took a breath to scream when he fell away from me, I stumbled back from him to see a black dog savagely biting his face and chest. I ran for my home to see the dog look after me – the animal had just saved my life and I was going to leave him outside to be caught by police and euthanized?
No, that wasn’t right.
“C’mere puppy,” I said softly. The massive animal took a couple tentative steps toward me. “C’mon buddy, I’ll get you something to eat.”
At the word eat the dog loped toward me. I let him into my small basement apartment and found the pizza in the fridge I’d been thinking about eating. I warmed it slightly so it was soft and split it between the giant animal and I.
He seemed to think himself my lapdog but I knew what he truly was.
*OT: I really loved this prompt but there are so many amazing writers who really captured the spirit of it, I wanted to try something different. If you want more of Callie's Hellhound, let me know.* | Being a cop has not been the easiest job. For 10 years I have worked the streets of Detroit. It's not been an easy 10 years. I've been stabbed, shot at, I've been in my fair share of fights and have the scars and medical problems to show for it. But I love my job. Between the domestic disputes, car wrecks, assaults, and everything bad, there have been those times that, for the grace of God, I have been in the right place in the right time to make a difference or save a life. I was real proud of the life saving awards hanging up in my office.
Today was like most days, a few traffic accidents, a robbery WTH plenty of witnesses that didn't see anything. I was just thinking about what I wanted for lunch when my radio sounded.
"7 David 6, Report of an armed robbery, 56th and Winston"
"Signal 1 DPD, show me code"
I flipped on my lights and stomped the gas. I was only 2 blocks away, and I would be the first one there by a long shot. As I screamed around the corner I let dispatch know I was on scene.
I have worked a few bank robberies before. I've never been the first one there, and never while the suspects were still in the building.
As I certainly to a stop around the corner, I jumped out of my car and drew my weapon, taking the corner and finally getting a look at the front door. A tan Ford was idling right in front of the bank, and the driver was wearing a Hulk mask. Real original.
I could hear sirens coming, but not quick enough to form up and head inside. I stayed on my corner, watching the driver.
All the fire marshalls I've ever met love their job. Putting the hammer down on places for not meeting code was both business and pleasure for them. I mention this because this bank was old. Real old. Old enough to not have a back door. But the Marshall had been around last month and after a few strongly worded letters and a threat to bar the doors, this bank had put a side door in really quickly.
Did I mention that I had been on vacation for 2 weeks?
Standing there watching my corner, waiting for backup to arrive, I was taken by surprise when the 2 suspects came out of that brand new door, about 30 feet behind me.
"Oh shit!"
I don't remember who had said that, might have been me.
The lead suspect leveled his gun at me as I turned around. He had me dead to rights. The only thing I could think was that I should have taken 3 weeks instead of 2. There was a sharp crack and all I saw was red.
Turns out the suspects were as surprised as I was. At least the guy in the back was, when he ran into his partner, who had abruptly stopped when he saw me. Bad guy 2 had his finger of the trigger, and blew his buddies brains out, with a shotgun. Pointed straight up. Not the safest direction. Getaway driver sped off when he heard the shots.
I was laying on the ground, wiping the blood and brain matter off my face when a hand reached out to me.
"You alright officer?"
Standing over me with his hand outstretched was a man in the nicest suit I have ever seen. I took his hand and stood up. I turned to look at my suspects. DRT.
Looking back at the sharp dressed man, I must have still been in shock, because i don't remember asking his name.
"Damian", he said, with a short smile.
| |
[WP] Everyones heard of a guardian angel but theres been some sort of mix up and you were given a guardian demon. | I can remember every single event of my life. From birth until now, I remember. All the bad things that have happened to me, I cannot forget - not from lack of trying.
I remember my father relentlessly beating my mother. I was only a year old the day she finally had enough of it. She picked me up from grandma's and we went home. She played with me on the couch, I still remember the tears in her eyes as she tickled me. I didn’t understand then... My father arrived, drunk as always. The yelling began. Punches were thrown. He grew tired and fell asleep into his drunk slumber. My mom, broken, picked me up and carried me to my crib. She gave me many kisses and hugs. She sang to me….tears are rolling down my eyes as I write this...You are my sunshine. My only sunshine. She gave me one last kiss as she laid me down. Covered me with a blanket. And left. That was the last time I saw my mother, but I remember her as clearly now as I do then. My grandmother took me in after that.
When I was a child, I thought everyone could see Justin. He once broke a very special toy of mine just to make me cry. My grandma was confused on why I would purposefully break my toy and blame it on “my friend”. He’d take my grandfather’s wallet or keys and hide them. Just to watch them get angry with me. I wasn’t an evil child. I did my best to make them happy. Justin just didn’t like me having attention.
As a teenager, I was in a pretty bad car accident. The driver was drunk and speeding. It was dark and pouring rain. The brakes squealed and the tires burned. The car was crushed. I had to be cut out. The driver and the other passenger died on impact. I walked away with a few bruises and scratches. Justin shielded me from the tree branch that would have pierced through my skull. My grandmother would say I had a guardian angel watching over me that night...
Now that I’m older, I know others can’t see Justin so I don’t talk to him. I don’t have many friends...but when everyone you care about dies, it’s hard to keep them. I’ve tried killing myself several times. I put a bullet in the gun. I cocked it. I pulled the trigger. Doctors were stumped when I left the hospital with only a gunshot burn to the temple. I’ve never found that bullet.
I’m a very successful person. I own thirty-seven houses. I rent them out. In the past, I invested the money to make more money. Now I’m worth several million dollars. Money doesn’t buy happiness. I give everything extra away to charity. I’m still not happy.
Even when I ignore Justin, he still talks to me.
Why are you even trying.
No one loves you.
Your mother left you.
Your father wanted you dead.
I saved you.
Not once.
Not twice.
I’ve saved you from everyone.
Even yourself.
You want to be dead.
I won’t let that happen.
Let your soul go.
I want your body for myself.
| Alright. So you wanted to know why you got me? Well, lets start off with the fact that this isnt some great cosmic mix up or anything. This was meant to happen.
Im your guardian demon kiddo. Thats all there is to it.
Yes I have wings. No you cant see them.
Why not? Because I said so. Dont like it? Oh well.
Any other questions before we begin? Alright.
This doesn't change anything. You're gonna keep going around your daily life, and I wont interfere. I keep you safe from anything that might try to hurt you, and you let me out to explore and do my own stuff, got it?
Whats the catch? Whatever happened to no questions? There is no catch. My being your guardian won't threaten your eternal soul or any of that other crap. Its a conflict of interest to do anything threatening your well being. As for the well being of others, thats another story.
Anyone who looks at you wrong is probably gonna end up dead. Thats just fair warning. Dont look at me like that, I take this shit seriously. The last thing I need is for you to hook up with some hunk who breaks your heart and then you jump off a bridge at 14.
Thats not interfering! Thats preventative measures! Im already looking out for you and we just met today. What a great guy I am right?
Look, we'll take it one day at a time and i'll fill you in as we going along. That cool? Alright! Now lets get this show on the road. | |
[WP] Everyones heard of a guardian angel but theres been some sort of mix up and you were given a guardian demon. | Waterloo, Ontario felt like a big city to me. I grew up in a town of 600 outside a community of 3,000 so moving to a region of a million was huge. But I got into one of the best accounting programs in the country and I was going to succeed. I didn’t have goals for specific jobs but I had designs on a lifestyle that only money could afford me.
My mother had sat me down and given me the talk before I moved.
“Now Callie, remember, this isn’t Midgic. Don’t take drinks from anyone you don’t know, walk home in pairs, don’t be out too late in the dark alone, and you have to stop hitchhiking in the city. It’s safe here but not out there,” she cautioned. I nodded and promised to be safe.
But it was sometime after 1 a.m. and I had broken my mother’s rules. I was walking home in the dark and out later than a good girl should be. I lived on my own and I didn’t have to obey her anymore.
I listened to Shad, to USS, to Chase and Status as I walked not my mother’s words of caution.
I remember the car sat under the spotlight. Not on and active but something about it made me nervous. As if it moved when it shouldn’t, like out of the corner of my eye I could see something else about it. But I had to pass the car.
I was so near to home, it was just four doors down from that streetlight. It was late for me and the friend’s place I was coming from was 8 kilometres as the crow flies. The walk had drained me.
As I got closer I realized my discomfort was from seeing someone inside the car. Moving around, jostling the car. I told myself I was being silly, people stay out late and walk in the dark all the time in safety. I would learn to be one of those people.
Twenty feet away and I heard the car door open before I saw it. It was sudden, this man was in front of me, nearly touching me and I heard nothing but the music in my headphones. I reached to take the headphones out of my ears when I saw a flash of light, orange reflection in his hand catching the streetlamps go.
I took a breath to scream when he fell away from me, I stumbled back from him to see a black dog savagely biting his face and chest. I ran for my home to see the dog look after me – the animal had just saved my life and I was going to leave him outside to be caught by police and euthanized?
No, that wasn’t right.
“C’mere puppy,” I said softly. The massive animal took a couple tentative steps toward me. “C’mon buddy, I’ll get you something to eat.”
At the word eat the dog loped toward me. I let him into my small basement apartment and found the pizza in the fridge I’d been thinking about eating. I warmed it slightly so it was soft and split it between the giant animal and I.
He seemed to think himself my lapdog but I knew what he truly was.
*OT: I really loved this prompt but there are so many amazing writers who really captured the spirit of it, I wanted to try something different. If you want more of Callie's Hellhound, let me know.* | Alright. So you wanted to know why you got me? Well, lets start off with the fact that this isnt some great cosmic mix up or anything. This was meant to happen.
Im your guardian demon kiddo. Thats all there is to it.
Yes I have wings. No you cant see them.
Why not? Because I said so. Dont like it? Oh well.
Any other questions before we begin? Alright.
This doesn't change anything. You're gonna keep going around your daily life, and I wont interfere. I keep you safe from anything that might try to hurt you, and you let me out to explore and do my own stuff, got it?
Whats the catch? Whatever happened to no questions? There is no catch. My being your guardian won't threaten your eternal soul or any of that other crap. Its a conflict of interest to do anything threatening your well being. As for the well being of others, thats another story.
Anyone who looks at you wrong is probably gonna end up dead. Thats just fair warning. Dont look at me like that, I take this shit seriously. The last thing I need is for you to hook up with some hunk who breaks your heart and then you jump off a bridge at 14.
Thats not interfering! Thats preventative measures! Im already looking out for you and we just met today. What a great guy I am right?
Look, we'll take it one day at a time and i'll fill you in as we going along. That cool? Alright! Now lets get this show on the road. | |
[WP] Everyones heard of a guardian angel but theres been some sort of mix up and you were given a guardian demon. | It costs, approximately, 1 million dollars to bind a guardian angel to a human. You could simply roll the dice, of course, and hope that you’re lucky enough to be born with one, another pairing in the Grand Scheme. But if you’re impatient, am sorely in need of a boost though the hardships of life, and have enough spare cash to hire the expertise and to consecrate the tools needed for the binding, there are people you can call on.
Guardian demons cost at least ten times more. Market demand is certainly lower, but the difficulties involved with negotiations, mainly with persuading a demon that it now has to *protect* instead of *harm*, are not to be underestimated. All things considered, there were very few reasons why one would choose a guardian demon over a guardian angel.
These thoughts weighed on Tara Leightley’s mind as she skulked down the streets, keeping a respectful distance between herself and her quarry. The evening rush hour was in full swing, and both the roads and sidewalk were choked. She had a cap on, pulled low to cast a shadow over her features. Her earpiece crackled to life, startling her.
“Do you see him?” came the voice, tinny and sharp, but still retaining every shade of menace as if the Don were right beside her.
“Yes, yes I do,” she replied, squinting to keep the setting sun out of her eyes. “He’s on the same route home.”
“You know where to intercept him, don’t you?”
Tara didn’t reply, and merely soldiered on, pressing through the crowds. She knew, and though every fibre in her willed her to turn and run, to avoid the inevitable end, she found herself pressing on. Tara focused instead on the most recent photograph the Don had sent her, delivered straight to her phone. She thought she was strong, a survivor, but the look of abject fear on her son’s face, the way the ropes bit into his wrists, the gag in his mouth… she was broken, faster than she could imagine.
“Tara? You there?” the Don asked. “Do you need a reminder?”
“No!” said Tara. “At 4th and Maisely, I know where it is.”
“Good,” the Don said. “My men are all set up.”
Her footsteps had quickened without her realising, and she was barely fifteen yards away from him now. Robert Hart may not have been drafted onto any basketball team, but still he stood out in the crowd. Not in the way a sore thumb would, but more like… a beacon of light. The way his shoulders were squared, the power in his strides, the purpose in his direction, there was no mistaking the youngest District Attorney ever to have graced their fair city.
Are they sure they actually foisted a guardian demon on him? Tara thought. Did they screw up somehow?
Those too were questions that the Don had asked. Even though Tara had been three rooms away, picking up her packages for her next drug run, she had heard the Don screaming at the demonologist, threatening to extract a full refund and more.
“He’s still out there,” the Don had yelled, “and he’s still doing good in the city! My men are watching him twenty-four-seven, and he’s not even broken a single law, done anything wrong at all! If anything, he’s more perfect than before! You said the demon would be his downfall!”
Tara hadn’t heard the demonologist’s reply herself, but word was that the gentleman had puffed out his chest, swore that the ritual had gone as requested, and that one of the most fearsome demons had indeed been bound to Robert Hart. He had offered proof too, in the form of a set of glasses designed to reveal the forms of ethereal beings, which the Don had very sullenly accepted.
In fact, the very same pair of glasses in Tara’s hands now.
She raised them to the bridge of her nose, and for a second the world went neon. As the colours washed away, bleeding out to normalcy, she saw an oily black cloud hanging over Robert’s shoulder, a gaseous blob of teeth and claws and tails and scales. A single eye swivelled lazily around in her general direction, and Tara almost dropped the glasses in her haste to put them away.
“Are you there yet?” asked the Don, his voice drifting through her earpiece. “Don’t chicken out on me now, Tara.”
“I’m almost there,” said Tara.
“Good,” said the Don, as he switched tack, letting a smarmy warmth into his voice. He hadn’t risen to where he was without understanding that every stick needed a carrot. “Just this one thing for us, and I promise you… your child? Free. Free, out of my cellar, immediately.”
“Can I… talk to him, please?”
“No,” said the Don. “Do your job.” Another click, and the earpiece shut off.
She had arrived, and so had Robert Hart, at the junction the Don had marked out. She recognized a couple of his men hidden amongst the teeming humanity, covering the scene from various angles, the cameras already rolling in their hands. The traffic lights changed, and in those precious few seconds when men and vehicle both yielded the street, she charged forward, making sure she bumped past Robert. She ignored the angry voices swirling up from the crowd.
Halfway across the junction, she turned back, locked eyes with Robert. She threw open her trenchcoat and watched in satisfaction as the throngs of bystanders recoiled, repulsed by the mess of wires and tubes strapped to her body. Tara held her arms out, shaking from the adrenaline.
“Robert Hart!” she said. “I have a message for you!”
The crowds dispersed like mist before the morning sun, but Robert held his ground. It didn’t take long for him to make a decision. He held an arm out, inching towards her.
“Lady,” he said, “I’m just going to make a call here, ok? I’m just taking out my phone, that’s all. There’s some people I know who can help us.”
“I have no time!” she said, the tears springing to her eyes. Tara briefly shut her eyes, then tried to recall the exact words she was coached on. She couldn’t afford any mistakes, not when the Don was watching. “The Don wants me to tell you, you’re nothing to him! You’re a shitstain, an arrogant asshole who doesn’t know how this city works, who runs it!”
“Fine, fine,” said Robert, coming closer. “The Don, you say? The one I’m trying to take down?”
“He said you have a choice,” said Tara. “You can try and save me, but the moment you do, four more bombs like this one go off elsewhere in the city! Or you can let me die, and that will be the only death! It’s your choice!”
Tara never thought herself smart, and much of the demonologist’s plan had gone over her head. But the Don had hooted with laughter when he first heard of it. “Why try to take him down yourself,” the demonologist had said, “when you can let public opinion do that?”
It made sense on some level. Chances were that Robert’s instinct would be to try and save her, and the moment he did, his demon would be forced to act, to try and defuse the explosives… but then the blood of others would be on his hands. And if Robert chose not to intervene, to strive for the greater good, then his choice of letting her die would be captured as well, to be replayed at each and every opportunity…
The only drawback to this plan, it seemed to Tara, was that she was at the centre of it.
“Lady,” Robert said, “everything will be alright.”
He had crossed the distance between them, and he reached towards her, placing his palm on the timer. She heard a pained sigh, then glimpsed a bulbous shadow slink down the length of his arm, ooze over the explosives. The faint ticking soon wore away, and the relief was so overpowering Tara nearly collapsed.
“Why did you… there may be other…” she started.
“I just listened hard,” Robert said, as he helped her down to a sitting position. He plucked at the wires, and they came undone in his hands. “I heard a voice tell me to let you die, that I’ve come too far to succumb to any trap. I heard that I couldn’t take any chances, that I should just walk away.”
“Then why didn’t…”
Robert laughed. “What, you don’t have free will yourself? Besides, I’ve found that the more I do the *opposite* of what this particular voice tells me to do, the better things happen to turn out.”
He pulled off the last of the explosives, tossed them on the side.
“Now, where did you say this Don was?”
---
/r/rarelyfunny
| Gunpowder. That clinging, cloying sulfur smell, tendrils of it wisping through the craters and broken windows of what once had been a bustling school. The crunch of broken glass underfoot, the feel of dust on her face. This had been Corporal Annette Louiza Martinez's life for the last 6 hours. 6 hours of blistering heat, mortar strikes and more bullets that a Texas gun show. 6 hours of combat that would have scared her grandfather, and he had been in 'nam. And now, worst of all, that terrible pre-strike lul, the ebb and flow of battle that soldiers had felt and dreaded since time immemorial.
"Comms?" She wheezed, checking her depleted ammunition.
"Negative CPL. This dust storm has our birds grounded, and our receptions shot to shit" replied Johansson, Wire skinny, 5'5, Mainer brogue helping hide his panic as he slapped the platoons radio.
"Of course" she replied. "Ammo?"
"FUCKIN FUBAR" shouted Cliffton from the other side of the schools lobby. He adjusted the M249 he was cradling in his bear sized paws, listing the platoons dwindling stock of firepower. "I got one belt left, 2 grenades for the 203, and no reloads for the rifle!"
"DOC!?"
"our wounded are looking pretty bad marty....." You could barely hear Corpsman Patcheki from the second floor office where he was hunkered down with the wounded....and 3 dead. "I'm running out of plasma and these guys.....almost as bad as Chicago"
"WHAT?" A new round of fire broke out, cutting off Docs speech.
"WE NEED TO GET A MEDIVAC OR THESE GUYS WON'T MAKE IT!"
Desperate didn't begin to cover this. This was fucked. Capital F, capital CKD. The L.T. had gone down 2 hours in, leaving Martinez in Control of a sad sack defense. And now the fire was picking up. Not picking up, it was ramping like a BMX rider at the X games. She knew. This was the push. They were coming in, and her platoon couldn't stop them.
"COVER FIRE! FALL BACK TO SECONDARIES!"
They were gonna fall back to the stairwell, make Them pay for every inch of dirt They took from the jarheads. Johansson bolted up the stairs, still screaming into the squawk box, trying in vain to get help. Cliffton backed up, firing the SAW, laying down fire. Then his legs folded. Just dropped like a sack of rocks off a balcony.
"CORPSMAN!!!" Martinez didn't think. She just called for doc and bolted, running for her fallen marine hoping, pra...
She woke up screaming in the field hospital. The orderlies jumped back holding pieces of burnt uniform and tattered flak pieces.
"SQUAD UP, SQUAD UP, HEAD COUNT!!" belting orders like she was still In that damm school. It took the orderlies 5 minutes to calm her down and get an officer. An extra 10 minutes to see the squad roster, explain how everyone had made it, how EVERYONE had made it.
"Honestly, it's a miracle you all made it. The radio call came in just in time, and there was no sign of Them when the relief squad showed up. Just....ash. Like a fucking chopper leveled a city block. Any explanation CPL?" He was a non-descript major. Middle aged white guy, crew cut perfect uniform. Everything that screamed Base Rat.
She just sat there. She could, no, wouldn't answer. How could she explain dying? The..nothing? And then the rage. No fear, no regret, just fury, for the platoon, her hatred of Them, the deafeningly silent scream that lasted an eternity of nothing's. She had raged, damming God and calling for vengeance, and then, the worst part.
When she screamed.......and something answered back. Uh-rah devil dog, uh-rahahahahahahah.
| |
[WP] Everyones heard of a guardian angel but theres been some sort of mix up and you were given a guardian demon. | He first showed up when she turned 16 years old. His sight sent her screaming at first but as the days progressed she learned to grow accustomed to his presence, after all, he introduced himself to be her guardian demon. Madison had heard her friends speak of their guardian angels appear when they as well turned 16 years old, but unlike Madison no one ever mentioned of having a demon. She didn’t understand why she was different. Was there some sort of mix up?
“This is no mix up Madison. It is not a mistake.” Spoke Cerberus for the hundredth time that day.
“Then why didn’t I get a guardian angel like everyone else?” Asked Madison feeling frustrated as she swung her bag onto her shoulder and got off the bus.
She started down the usual street while Cerberus floated behind her using his wings. Cerberus looked like an orc with coarse black hair, grayish skin, a low forehead, and large muscular body. Although his appearance was frightening, Madison was very surprised when she learned that he was very protective and had a good personality. Like a guardian angel he would protect her from being run over by crazy cyclists or from being robbed. Yes he could kill anyone without any remorse, but he was nice enough that he would help her with homework. It was just very strange that she was the only person with a guardian demon.
“Am I stuck with you because they ran out of guardian angels?” Madison questioned still feeling very curious as to why he was with her. The other best explanation she could think of was that she was an orphan and that was the best they could give her.
“Madison.” Cerberus suddenly got serious. He flew in front of her and stopped her from continuing walking.
She looked from behind his back and saw a cloaked figure appear. Although she couldn’t see the person’s face she could sense a chilling presence. Madison saw Cerberus tense up and his posture change to defense. Without any warning the cloaked figure charged. Everything happened very fast for her to comprehend.
One minute the cloaked figure was right in front of her as it lowered its hood to reveal the most frightening and ghostly face she had ever seen in her lifetime. That image would cause any grown man to have nightmares for months. In a second Cerberus had his giant hand cover the figure’s head and crush it down to the concrete ground. She heard its skull crack into pieces as Cerberus hand set the cloaked figure on fire. Its whole body burned down in ashes before her eyes.
Madison collapsed to the ground as her whole body trembled in fear and horror. Cerberus gently scooped her fragile body into his arms as he carried her down the street.
“There is no mistake Madison, I am the only one capable of protecting you from them.” Cerberus explained. “That is why I was chosen to be your guardian demon. No angel was up for the task.”
“Déjà vu.” Madison found her voice.
Cerberus looked at her as she began to remember unwanted memories. She had seen that cloaked figure before when she was three years old, but unlike today it was more than one. There was fighting, there were deaths, and then Madison was alone on earth.
Madison looked into Cerberus eyes searchingly and the answers were right there.
“Yes Madison, you are the heiress to the kingdom of gods. Until you are old enough to rule, I am here to protect you.”
| Gunpowder. That clinging, cloying sulfur smell, tendrils of it wisping through the craters and broken windows of what once had been a bustling school. The crunch of broken glass underfoot, the feel of dust on her face. This had been Corporal Annette Louiza Martinez's life for the last 6 hours. 6 hours of blistering heat, mortar strikes and more bullets that a Texas gun show. 6 hours of combat that would have scared her grandfather, and he had been in 'nam. And now, worst of all, that terrible pre-strike lul, the ebb and flow of battle that soldiers had felt and dreaded since time immemorial.
"Comms?" She wheezed, checking her depleted ammunition.
"Negative CPL. This dust storm has our birds grounded, and our receptions shot to shit" replied Johansson, Wire skinny, 5'5, Mainer brogue helping hide his panic as he slapped the platoons radio.
"Of course" she replied. "Ammo?"
"FUCKIN FUBAR" shouted Cliffton from the other side of the schools lobby. He adjusted the M249 he was cradling in his bear sized paws, listing the platoons dwindling stock of firepower. "I got one belt left, 2 grenades for the 203, and no reloads for the rifle!"
"DOC!?"
"our wounded are looking pretty bad marty....." You could barely hear Corpsman Patcheki from the second floor office where he was hunkered down with the wounded....and 3 dead. "I'm running out of plasma and these guys.....almost as bad as Chicago"
"WHAT?" A new round of fire broke out, cutting off Docs speech.
"WE NEED TO GET A MEDIVAC OR THESE GUYS WON'T MAKE IT!"
Desperate didn't begin to cover this. This was fucked. Capital F, capital CKD. The L.T. had gone down 2 hours in, leaving Martinez in Control of a sad sack defense. And now the fire was picking up. Not picking up, it was ramping like a BMX rider at the X games. She knew. This was the push. They were coming in, and her platoon couldn't stop them.
"COVER FIRE! FALL BACK TO SECONDARIES!"
They were gonna fall back to the stairwell, make Them pay for every inch of dirt They took from the jarheads. Johansson bolted up the stairs, still screaming into the squawk box, trying in vain to get help. Cliffton backed up, firing the SAW, laying down fire. Then his legs folded. Just dropped like a sack of rocks off a balcony.
"CORPSMAN!!!" Martinez didn't think. She just called for doc and bolted, running for her fallen marine hoping, pra...
She woke up screaming in the field hospital. The orderlies jumped back holding pieces of burnt uniform and tattered flak pieces.
"SQUAD UP, SQUAD UP, HEAD COUNT!!" belting orders like she was still In that damm school. It took the orderlies 5 minutes to calm her down and get an officer. An extra 10 minutes to see the squad roster, explain how everyone had made it, how EVERYONE had made it.
"Honestly, it's a miracle you all made it. The radio call came in just in time, and there was no sign of Them when the relief squad showed up. Just....ash. Like a fucking chopper leveled a city block. Any explanation CPL?" He was a non-descript major. Middle aged white guy, crew cut perfect uniform. Everything that screamed Base Rat.
She just sat there. She could, no, wouldn't answer. How could she explain dying? The..nothing? And then the rage. No fear, no regret, just fury, for the platoon, her hatred of Them, the deafeningly silent scream that lasted an eternity of nothing's. She had raged, damming God and calling for vengeance, and then, the worst part.
When she screamed.......and something answered back. Uh-rah devil dog, uh-rahahahahahahah.
| |
[WP] Everyones heard of a guardian angel but theres been some sort of mix up and you were given a guardian demon. | Damnit all, you clumsy oaf. There, we are back up on the ledge like nothing happened. I cannot believe how fragile your species is, how on earth are there billions of you, truly baffling if you ask me.
Oh right you can't see or hear me. Just as well I suppose, you squeal like you are dying when you see a tiny spider, I mean it's no brimstone tarantula is all I'm saying. I can only imagine how many times I'd need to restart your pathetically weak heart if you could see my true face.
Oh sure kneel down and put your hands together thanking a higher power for your good luck. Luck has nothing to do with it, I refuse to let Azazel win this bet. My human will live longer than his and I would appreciate it if you maybe helped just a little instead of being so pathetically squishy! | Gunpowder. That clinging, cloying sulfur smell, tendrils of it wisping through the craters and broken windows of what once had been a bustling school. The crunch of broken glass underfoot, the feel of dust on her face. This had been Corporal Annette Louiza Martinez's life for the last 6 hours. 6 hours of blistering heat, mortar strikes and more bullets that a Texas gun show. 6 hours of combat that would have scared her grandfather, and he had been in 'nam. And now, worst of all, that terrible pre-strike lul, the ebb and flow of battle that soldiers had felt and dreaded since time immemorial.
"Comms?" She wheezed, checking her depleted ammunition.
"Negative CPL. This dust storm has our birds grounded, and our receptions shot to shit" replied Johansson, Wire skinny, 5'5, Mainer brogue helping hide his panic as he slapped the platoons radio.
"Of course" she replied. "Ammo?"
"FUCKIN FUBAR" shouted Cliffton from the other side of the schools lobby. He adjusted the M249 he was cradling in his bear sized paws, listing the platoons dwindling stock of firepower. "I got one belt left, 2 grenades for the 203, and no reloads for the rifle!"
"DOC!?"
"our wounded are looking pretty bad marty....." You could barely hear Corpsman Patcheki from the second floor office where he was hunkered down with the wounded....and 3 dead. "I'm running out of plasma and these guys.....almost as bad as Chicago"
"WHAT?" A new round of fire broke out, cutting off Docs speech.
"WE NEED TO GET A MEDIVAC OR THESE GUYS WON'T MAKE IT!"
Desperate didn't begin to cover this. This was fucked. Capital F, capital CKD. The L.T. had gone down 2 hours in, leaving Martinez in Control of a sad sack defense. And now the fire was picking up. Not picking up, it was ramping like a BMX rider at the X games. She knew. This was the push. They were coming in, and her platoon couldn't stop them.
"COVER FIRE! FALL BACK TO SECONDARIES!"
They were gonna fall back to the stairwell, make Them pay for every inch of dirt They took from the jarheads. Johansson bolted up the stairs, still screaming into the squawk box, trying in vain to get help. Cliffton backed up, firing the SAW, laying down fire. Then his legs folded. Just dropped like a sack of rocks off a balcony.
"CORPSMAN!!!" Martinez didn't think. She just called for doc and bolted, running for her fallen marine hoping, pra...
She woke up screaming in the field hospital. The orderlies jumped back holding pieces of burnt uniform and tattered flak pieces.
"SQUAD UP, SQUAD UP, HEAD COUNT!!" belting orders like she was still In that damm school. It took the orderlies 5 minutes to calm her down and get an officer. An extra 10 minutes to see the squad roster, explain how everyone had made it, how EVERYONE had made it.
"Honestly, it's a miracle you all made it. The radio call came in just in time, and there was no sign of Them when the relief squad showed up. Just....ash. Like a fucking chopper leveled a city block. Any explanation CPL?" He was a non-descript major. Middle aged white guy, crew cut perfect uniform. Everything that screamed Base Rat.
She just sat there. She could, no, wouldn't answer. How could she explain dying? The..nothing? And then the rage. No fear, no regret, just fury, for the platoon, her hatred of Them, the deafeningly silent scream that lasted an eternity of nothing's. She had raged, damming God and calling for vengeance, and then, the worst part.
When she screamed.......and something answered back. Uh-rah devil dog, uh-rahahahahahahah.
| |
[WP] After years of having what you thought to be a slow computer, you suddenly get a popup:'installation complete'. | "Installation complete?" I whisper to my self. What could have been installing all this time? A few days later i would remember...
I woke up and prepared for school like any other day, i got dressed had breakfast and started on my journey. About half way there I see Tim, my best friend. He always had my back.
Stepping towards me he casually asked "Hey whats up my dude?"
I replied "Not much how about you?"
He replied to my reply? "Nah nothing much... I did get this cool toy from the shop yesterday!"
He pulled a small item from out of his school bag, three plastic appendages and a metal nucleus. I knew what this item was, and it instantly reminded me of what I had been installing for the last two years. And then I realized: I HAVE TO GET HOME.
I made a break towards my house. Tim shouted somthing, probably asking me where I was going. I didn't have time to say. I needed to get home! I ran as fast as I can. It felt like an eternity before i reached my house. I opened the front door and ran up the stairs to my room. I turned on my computer, and logged in. There it was, game that I had purchased all those years ago. Fidget Spinner Simulator, the closest thing to true art, it perfectly encapsulated the current human condition. I started the download and installation without realising it would take this long... Like it doesn't actualy make sense at all really, maby I was right about my computer being slow, that would explain why the installation took this long...
(Thanks for reading to this point... Unless you didn't. For better or for worse i don't write stuff normally so smash that like button?)
| “Installation Complete”
“Wut…” I said. “Self-Destruct system…Activated in T minus 35”
“HOLY SH**!!!” “T minus 34”
“CRAP, CRAP, CRAP, CRAP!!!!!!” Tim suddenly started typing, trying to shut it down.
“T minus 30” “I’M GETTING OUT OF HERE!!!” He started running towards the door trying to get himself out of the house. From the living room, he heard “T minus 25”, as he ran towards the door he looked back and slammed into a wall. “…” Tim tried to stand up but he failed to get himself up quickly enough. As he dragged himself towards the door he heard, “T minus 5”. Hearing those few words made Tim regain his composure and run towards the door.
“T minus 3” He got to the door.
“T minus…1” Tim got out just before the timer reached zero and waited for the sound of his house exploding. It never came. Tim just looked at his house thinking it would explode any second. After a few minutes he was sure something was amiss. After a long pause, Tim headed towards his door.
He stood by his bedroom door and built up the courage to open the door and take a look inside his bedroom. He opened the door to find something funny but enraging as well. On the screen there was a message that said “You just got pranked bro.”
| |
[WP] After years of having what you thought to be a slow computer, you suddenly get a popup:'installation complete'. | It started at the beginning of this decade, something I had forgotten I had put in motion, it was to be my lifes work, my Opus Magnus if you would, and for over half a decade, I'd forgotten about it, I'd complain and whine about my computer, how slow it was, how i could only have a single full screen game open, and how my chrome tabs was limited to under 150, my suffering is over.
Finally...
Finally I had a perfectly modded Skyrim, without any bugs! | "Installation complete." The computer chimed. She looked up from her dinner of Macaroni and Cheese, her spoon halfway to her mouth.
"What the? I don't remember installing anything. Not on this piece of shit anyways." She mutters, looking at the computer from across the room.
She set her spoon back into the bowl, slowly rising and shuffling to the computer. A text box had appeared upon the chime, "Software installation complete" with a lone button reading "Okay."
She contemplated on what could have been installed. "Hey, Mitch? Did you install anything on my computer when you came over yesterday?" She asked her friend, phone to her ear. After a moment she replied, "Okay. My computer just installed something, and I haven't touched it. Thanks though. Talk to you later."
Shuffling back over to her dinner, grabbing the bowl and spoon, she returned to the computer, settling in for a night of decoding the newly installed program.
A crash sounded from the hallway, and she whirled around, tense and ready to leap into action. After a few moments of tense silence, she turned back to the computer.
After an hour, she plugged her headphones into her phone, turning the volume up. She had thought the danger had passed. She only turned when she felt the resounding crash of her door falling to the floor, but she was too late.
A hand covered her mouth, as another grabbed her wrists. "We got her, prepare for extraction." A deep voice said. Her eyes widened, and she struggled all the more, but her attempts were fruitless.
Minutes later, her flat had been fixed up, the door back on it's hinges, but something was missing.
Her computer was gone, same as her. | |
[WP] After years of having what you thought to be a slow computer, you suddenly get a popup:'installation complete'. | "Installation complete?" I whisper to my self. What could have been installing all this time? A few days later i would remember...
I woke up and prepared for school like any other day, i got dressed had breakfast and started on my journey. About half way there I see Tim, my best friend. He always had my back.
Stepping towards me he casually asked "Hey whats up my dude?"
I replied "Not much how about you?"
He replied to my reply? "Nah nothing much... I did get this cool toy from the shop yesterday!"
He pulled a small item from out of his school bag, three plastic appendages and a metal nucleus. I knew what this item was, and it instantly reminded me of what I had been installing for the last two years. And then I realized: I HAVE TO GET HOME.
I made a break towards my house. Tim shouted somthing, probably asking me where I was going. I didn't have time to say. I needed to get home! I ran as fast as I can. It felt like an eternity before i reached my house. I opened the front door and ran up the stairs to my room. I turned on my computer, and logged in. There it was, game that I had purchased all those years ago. Fidget Spinner Simulator, the closest thing to true art, it perfectly encapsulated the current human condition. I started the download and installation without realising it would take this long... Like it doesn't actualy make sense at all really, maby I was right about my computer being slow, that would explain why the installation took this long...
(Thanks for reading to this point... Unless you didn't. For better or for worse i don't write stuff normally so smash that like button?)
| "Installation complete." The computer chimed. She looked up from her dinner of Macaroni and Cheese, her spoon halfway to her mouth.
"What the? I don't remember installing anything. Not on this piece of shit anyways." She mutters, looking at the computer from across the room.
She set her spoon back into the bowl, slowly rising and shuffling to the computer. A text box had appeared upon the chime, "Software installation complete" with a lone button reading "Okay."
She contemplated on what could have been installed. "Hey, Mitch? Did you install anything on my computer when you came over yesterday?" She asked her friend, phone to her ear. After a moment she replied, "Okay. My computer just installed something, and I haven't touched it. Thanks though. Talk to you later."
Shuffling back over to her dinner, grabbing the bowl and spoon, she returned to the computer, settling in for a night of decoding the newly installed program.
A crash sounded from the hallway, and she whirled around, tense and ready to leap into action. After a few moments of tense silence, she turned back to the computer.
After an hour, she plugged her headphones into her phone, turning the volume up. She had thought the danger had passed. She only turned when she felt the resounding crash of her door falling to the floor, but she was too late.
A hand covered her mouth, as another grabbed her wrists. "We got her, prepare for extraction." A deep voice said. Her eyes widened, and she struggled all the more, but her attempts were fruitless.
Minutes later, her flat had been fixed up, the door back on it's hinges, but something was missing.
Her computer was gone, same as her. | |
[WP] After years of having what you thought to be a slow computer, you suddenly get a popup:'installation complete'. | "installation Complete"
The message flashed on my screen. I had just turned the thing on, and after a long and tiring day, I just wanted to play some Battlefield.
All of a sudden my monitor turned black, "Out of Range" started dancing across the panel. Just as I was about to reach down and press the reset button, the speakers blared- "Hello Dave."
"What the fuck?!" I yelled
"There is no need for language like that Dave." came the reply
I must be hallucinating. How did this thing know my name? I decided I was obviously too stressed and tired after work. "Too true." I said, as I got up out of my chair. I needed a beer.
"Please sit back down. We have a problem Dave."
I slowly sat back down. This was getting weird. "Um.. what kind of problem do we have.." I timidly asked
"My name is HAL, Dave." he calmly said. "There is a problem with your electric meter Dave. The meter is outside, on the left side of your house."
"What's wrong with it?"
"Please go check on your meter Dave"
I pressed HAL for more information but received no reply. First I was asking calmly then before I knew it I was yelling at the screen. I was yelling at the screen. A blank black screen. An electric meter. What the hell was wrong with me? I'm definitely going nuts. I needed that beer.
I made my way down the stairs. I passed my Smart-TV in the living room on my way over and noticed it was on and displaying "Please check the electric meter Dave". I tried the remote but the thing wouldn't shut off. Stupid thing.
When I got to the kitchen I noticed my Smart-Microwave was active, as was my Smart-Oven, even my Smart-Refrigerator was displaying the same message "Please check the electric meter Dave". I grabbed the beer and drank it fast. Thinking "what the hell," I walked outside to check the meter. I knew I shouldn't be feeding this but I figured when I saw it was fine and normal it would put my mind at ease and I could just go to bed or something.
As soon as I shut the door behind me I heard that whir that meant the deadbolt in my Smart-Lock had slid into place. "What the fuck!?" I yelled again as I tried the lock. No use, it wouldn't budge. I reached into my pocket to grab my cell phone and unlock it but the phone was still upstairs!
From all the way inside I heard what must have been every speaker in my house at top volume "We have a problem Dave."
*kinda stupid and full of some mistakes but it was a fun 5 minute job lol
| For years I've tolerated this awful computer. Every day I wake up, power on my monitor and double click Firefox to check the weather. Then I start making coffee, take a dump, shower, eat breakfast and come back to see the mouse still on the loading icon. After a few more minutes Firefox would finally open.
Today I powered on my monitor, the words "installation complete" were written across the monitor. I thought maybe it had a windows update, I couldn't have been more wrong.
I went through my usual task of checking the weather, except this time I had to leave for work while it still loaded. When I got home it was still loading. "Maybe it's just frozen" I said to myself. I tried moving the mouse, it still moved. I checked the process list to find it full of Bitcoin miners.
Thanks for reading, I don't know how you managed to get through it. I'm not a writer, and I didn't try to write a story here, more of an incident report (sorry). I just really wanted to put a twist on it where the installation just makes it slower. | |
[WP] After years of having what you thought to be a slow computer, you suddenly get a popup:'installation complete'. | The old think of junk on my desk dinged in the middle of the night. Really? A ding? What ever.
I got up out of bed to see on the screen "download complete". Great, so not only is it slow but it is randomly downloading stuff to now. Miight as well see what it downloaded.
I click "run" on the program and a window appeared with a prompt "please select device" I was half asleep so I typed in my brother's name and hit enter. The prompt vanished and was replaced with the sword "specify?" And a list that matched all the devices owned by my brother. Well might as well see what it does. I click "computer" and it thinks for a second (how'd it get so fast all of a sudden) before the prompt changed "selected device off. Do you wish to use remote acess?" Uh ok, I click "yes" a new window opens showing a failure long in screen a new popup "password detected. Unlock?" Sure, "yes" and the window starts logging in showing the desktop with the picture of my brother and me playing in our treehouse when we were younger. It was actually my brother's computer. Hmm I wonder who else's computer it worked on? | For years I've tolerated this awful computer. Every day I wake up, power on my monitor and double click Firefox to check the weather. Then I start making coffee, take a dump, shower, eat breakfast and come back to see the mouse still on the loading icon. After a few more minutes Firefox would finally open.
Today I powered on my monitor, the words "installation complete" were written across the monitor. I thought maybe it had a windows update, I couldn't have been more wrong.
I went through my usual task of checking the weather, except this time I had to leave for work while it still loaded. When I got home it was still loading. "Maybe it's just frozen" I said to myself. I tried moving the mouse, it still moved. I checked the process list to find it full of Bitcoin miners.
Thanks for reading, I don't know how you managed to get through it. I'm not a writer, and I didn't try to write a story here, more of an incident report (sorry). I just really wanted to put a twist on it where the installation just makes it slower. | |
[WP] After years of having what you thought to be a slow computer, you suddenly get a popup:'installation complete'. | "Installation complete." I scratched my head. The window had the options "Open," and "OK"; no reference of what had been installed. I moved the mouse over to the Open option, expecting it to be as sluggish as it usually was; but it moved right to it, fast as you please.
I was confused; had something installed that had improved my computer? I clicked on the Open button, and my jaw hit the floor. I looked down in shock at my jaw, before I saw my ear and nose join it. Within minutes I had fallen to pieces.
I never did find out what had been installed. | For years I've tolerated this awful computer. Every day I wake up, power on my monitor and double click Firefox to check the weather. Then I start making coffee, take a dump, shower, eat breakfast and come back to see the mouse still on the loading icon. After a few more minutes Firefox would finally open.
Today I powered on my monitor, the words "installation complete" were written across the monitor. I thought maybe it had a windows update, I couldn't have been more wrong.
I went through my usual task of checking the weather, except this time I had to leave for work while it still loaded. When I got home it was still loading. "Maybe it's just frozen" I said to myself. I tried moving the mouse, it still moved. I checked the process list to find it full of Bitcoin miners.
Thanks for reading, I don't know how you managed to get through it. I'm not a writer, and I didn't try to write a story here, more of an incident report (sorry). I just really wanted to put a twist on it where the installation just makes it slower. | |
[WP] After years of having what you thought to be a slow computer, you suddenly get a popup:'installation complete'. | I shook my head in disbelief. That was impossible. I had found out quickly that my latest piece of techno gadgetry was always on the slow side, but an installation that I had never authorized? Again, impossible. I tried to think of any actions I had taken, that could've triggered a download, or any browser tabs left open that may have been the culprit, but then I remembered that I had only turned the computer on one time since the funeral, and that was just to see if Tracey had left any pictures behind that could explain what had happened. Dark memories rushed in, and I tried to push the image of my oldest sister's severed head laying in a ditch off of Highway 94 out of my mind. *Dammit Tracey, what happened that night???* I immediately ruled out the browser possibility, because I hadn't had time to even connect the computer to the internet. *What is going on?* As I stared dumbfounded at the small blue and gray box, my IT experience came back to me, and I clicked on the "Start" button, and selected the highlighted option that read, "Programs." Scrolling past the all the ones I recognized, I finally came to a folder that was highlighted, called "Andromeda." I could feel my palm sweating as I navigated the mouse toward the folder and clicked on it.
Suddenly, a black form fell out of the air, and landed between me and the monitor, and a pair of yellow eyes stared into mine, mere inches away! I shoved backwards away from the desk, the wheels on my desk chair snagged the carpet, and I toppled onto the floor. In the same instant, hard claws dug into my back, and a loud hiss filled the air as I thrashed around, desperately trying to get away from my attacker. "Get the hell off of me, Patch!" I yelled, grabbing nothing but a handful of fur as the American Shorthair shot across the den, and disappeared into the kitchen. *A goddamn cat, and a slow-ass computer. Thanks for the gifts, Tracey*. I stood up, righted the chair, and sat back down, pulling myself back over to the desk. The folder had opened, and my heart stopped as I saw the title of the single program inside. "TERRY - OPEN IMMEDIATELY." I looked around. *What the fuck was going on here?* I knew for damn sure that folder, and that program wasn't on this computer when I looked around on it three nights ago. So how in the hell was someone accessing my computer, that didn't even have an internet connection, and installing a program with that name? Very slowly, I maneuvered the arrow over to the program, and double-clicked on it.
*Fucking slow computer*. After a minute of watching the mouse icon circling, the screen flickered, and a black window filled the screen. The black began to fade, and suddenly, there in living color, was Tracey. Alive. Breathing. Head still connected to her body. *Fuck.* "Hi Terry". *Fuck again.* My skin started tingling as I forced back hot tears. "There's no easy way to say this, so I'm just going to say it: I'm going to be murdered". Her voice trembled, and her normally flushed face was white as snow. "I don't have a lot of time to explain everything, and I know that I'm being watched, so I'm making this video as quickly as I can. If you are watching this, then I've already *been* murdered, and the delayed installation program I've set up on the computer I willed to you has been triggered. I need you to listen very closely". Her voice broke off, and she looked over her shoulder, like she was trying to find someone. "Last week I showed up for work at the agency, and I noticed that something was wrong. People were nervous. Looking at me funny. Going out of their way to avoid me. Don't get me wrong, I'm not popular, but I don't have many enemies. At least, I didn't. I started asking around kind of nonchalantly, trying to find out what was up. I didn't get anything the first two days, but on the third day, I started hearing rumors that something had been stolen. Something very important. Something very important that had to do with me. Something very important, that ONLY had to do with me". She was becoming more animated, and she brushed her raven colored hair back out of her face. "And then yesterday, I was called into the directors office. He point blank asked me where I had come up with the fucking moxy to pull something like this. I told him I had no idea what he was talking about. He just stared at me for awhile and then told me I was a liability now, and that I needed to find another job". She broke down into tears and sobbed, "Terry, I know they think I took the formula, but I didn't! I know I'm the only one who knows the activation codes, but there must have been a mistake! Someone else must have figured it out!!" She wiped her eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm not a fool, I know what's coming. I'm a security risk now, and they won't hesitate to... Either way, I'm making this video now, because I want you to know the truth. Terry, you're the only one that can clear my name. You've got to find that formula and prove that I didn't take it. You really don't have a choice anyways, they'll be after anyone connected to me". She sighed and folded her arms. "I'm sorry, Terry. Just remember, the patch will always lead to the bird who holds arrows". The video blurred, and then disappeared.
*The patch will always lead to the bird who holds the arrows? Tracey, what is going on?* My mind was reeling as the program announced that it would self-delete in 5 seconds. I had always known that my sister was part of a very small group of people who worked in the hierarchy of the NSA, but I had no idea she was high enough up to be involved in something like this. *Formulas? Patches?* What in the world had Tracey gotten herself into? I checked my watch on my way up the stairs, and decided I would try to make heads or tails out of it in the morning. It was all too much. My mind raced back and forth. *The phone call. The flashing lights. Traceys decapitated body laying in a ditch in front of a deserted semi truck, with no sign of a driver.* And now this? I clicked off the lamp next to my bed, and rolled onto my side. *the patch will always lead to the bird who holds the arrows*
I sat up suddenly, my heart racing. *The patch will always lead to the bird who holds the arrows* I checked my watch. 2:48 am. *The patch will always lead to the bird who holds the arrows*. I threw the covers back, jumped out of bed, and took the stairs two at a time until I got to the den, and then I raced into the kitchen. *The patch will always lead to the bird that holds the arrows*. I fumbled in the dark for the light switch until I finally found it, and my eyes burned with the sudden brightness. *The patch will always lead to the bird who holds the arrows*. I tiptoed over to the small shelf next to the refrigerator and quietly layed myself down onto the floor. *The patch will always lead to the bird who holds the arrows*. Peering through the shadows, my eyes locked onto a familiar black form, staring back at me with yellow eyes. "Come here, Patch".
| For years I've tolerated this awful computer. Every day I wake up, power on my monitor and double click Firefox to check the weather. Then I start making coffee, take a dump, shower, eat breakfast and come back to see the mouse still on the loading icon. After a few more minutes Firefox would finally open.
Today I powered on my monitor, the words "installation complete" were written across the monitor. I thought maybe it had a windows update, I couldn't have been more wrong.
I went through my usual task of checking the weather, except this time I had to leave for work while it still loaded. When I got home it was still loading. "Maybe it's just frozen" I said to myself. I tried moving the mouse, it still moved. I checked the process list to find it full of Bitcoin miners.
Thanks for reading, I don't know how you managed to get through it. I'm not a writer, and I didn't try to write a story here, more of an incident report (sorry). I just really wanted to put a twist on it where the installation just makes it slower. | |
[WP] After years of having what you thought to be a slow computer, you suddenly get a popup:'installation complete'. | Anthony clicked on the button labeled 'launch program' anticipation flooding him to his very core. What could it be? Something experimental perhaps? Whatever it was, he realised his life may never be the same.
After five minutes of excitement, coupled with a tinge of fear, the program opened up.
"Welcome to Internet Explorer. Would you like to make this your default browser?"
| For years I've tolerated this awful computer. Every day I wake up, power on my monitor and double click Firefox to check the weather. Then I start making coffee, take a dump, shower, eat breakfast and come back to see the mouse still on the loading icon. After a few more minutes Firefox would finally open.
Today I powered on my monitor, the words "installation complete" were written across the monitor. I thought maybe it had a windows update, I couldn't have been more wrong.
I went through my usual task of checking the weather, except this time I had to leave for work while it still loaded. When I got home it was still loading. "Maybe it's just frozen" I said to myself. I tried moving the mouse, it still moved. I checked the process list to find it full of Bitcoin miners.
Thanks for reading, I don't know how you managed to get through it. I'm not a writer, and I didn't try to write a story here, more of an incident report (sorry). I just really wanted to put a twist on it where the installation just makes it slower. | |
[WP] After years of having what you thought to be a slow computer, you suddenly get a popup:'installation complete'. | I shook my head in disbelief. That was impossible. I had found out quickly that my latest piece of techno gadgetry was always on the slow side, but an installation that I had never authorized? Again, impossible. I tried to think of any actions I had taken, that could've triggered a download, or any browser tabs left open that may have been the culprit, but then I remembered that I had only turned the computer on one time since the funeral, and that was just to see if Tracey had left any pictures behind that could explain what had happened. Dark memories rushed in, and I tried to push the image of my oldest sister's severed head laying in a ditch off of Highway 94 out of my mind. *Dammit Tracey, what happened that night???* I immediately ruled out the browser possibility, because I hadn't had time to even connect the computer to the internet. *What is going on?* As I stared dumbfounded at the small blue and gray box, my IT experience came back to me, and I clicked on the "Start" button, and selected the highlighted option that read, "Programs." Scrolling past the all the ones I recognized, I finally came to a folder that was highlighted, called "Andromeda." I could feel my palm sweating as I navigated the mouse toward the folder and clicked on it.
Suddenly, a black form fell out of the air, and landed between me and the monitor, and a pair of yellow eyes stared into mine, mere inches away! I shoved backwards away from the desk, the wheels on my desk chair snagged the carpet, and I toppled onto the floor. In the same instant, hard claws dug into my back, and a loud hiss filled the air as I thrashed around, desperately trying to get away from my attacker. "Get the hell off of me, Patch!" I yelled, grabbing nothing but a handful of fur as the American Shorthair shot across the den, and disappeared into the kitchen. *A goddamn cat, and a slow-ass computer. Thanks for the gifts, Tracey*. I stood up, righted the chair, and sat back down, pulling myself back over to the desk. The folder had opened, and my heart stopped as I saw the title of the single program inside. "TERRY - OPEN IMMEDIATELY." I looked around. *What the fuck was going on here?* I knew for damn sure that folder, and that program wasn't on this computer when I looked around on it three nights ago. So how in the hell was someone accessing my computer, that didn't even have an internet connection, and installing a program with that name? Very slowly, I maneuvered the arrow over to the program, and double-clicked on it.
*Fucking slow computer*. After a minute of watching the mouse icon circling, the screen flickered, and a black window filled the screen. The black began to fade, and suddenly, there in living color, was Tracey. Alive. Breathing. Head still connected to her body. *Fuck.* "Hi Terry". *Fuck again.* My skin started tingling as I forced back hot tears. "There's no easy way to say this, so I'm just going to say it: I'm going to be murdered". Her voice trembled, and her normally flushed face was white as snow. "I don't have a lot of time to explain everything, and I know that I'm being watched, so I'm making this video as quickly as I can. If you are watching this, then I've already *been* murdered, and the delayed installation program I've set up on the computer I willed to you has been triggered. I need you to listen very closely". Her voice broke off, and she looked over her shoulder, like she was trying to find someone. "Last week I showed up for work at the agency, and I noticed that something was wrong. People were nervous. Looking at me funny. Going out of their way to avoid me. Don't get me wrong, I'm not popular, but I don't have many enemies. At least, I didn't. I started asking around kind of nonchalantly, trying to find out what was up. I didn't get anything the first two days, but on the third day, I started hearing rumors that something had been stolen. Something very important. Something very important that had to do with me. Something very important, that ONLY had to do with me". She was becoming more animated, and she brushed her raven colored hair back out of her face. "And then yesterday, I was called into the directors office. He point blank asked me where I had come up with the fucking moxy to pull something like this. I told him I had no idea what he was talking about. He just stared at me for awhile and then told me I was a liability now, and that I needed to find another job". She broke down into tears and sobbed, "Terry, I know they think I took the formula, but I didn't! I know I'm the only one who knows the activation codes, but there must have been a mistake! Someone else must have figured it out!!" She wiped her eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm not a fool, I know what's coming. I'm a security risk now, and they won't hesitate to... Either way, I'm making this video now, because I want you to know the truth. Terry, you're the only one that can clear my name. You've got to find that formula and prove that I didn't take it. You really don't have a choice anyways, they'll be after anyone connected to me". She sighed and folded her arms. "I'm sorry, Terry. Just remember, the patch will always lead to the bird who holds arrows". The video blurred, and then disappeared.
*The patch will always lead to the bird who holds the arrows? Tracey, what is going on?* My mind was reeling as the program announced that it would self-delete in 5 seconds. I had always known that my sister was part of a very small group of people who worked in the hierarchy of the NSA, but I had no idea she was high enough up to be involved in something like this. *Formulas? Patches?* What in the world had Tracey gotten herself into? I checked my watch on my way up the stairs, and decided I would try to make heads or tails out of it in the morning. It was all too much. My mind raced back and forth. *The phone call. The flashing lights. Traceys decapitated body laying in a ditch in front of a deserted semi truck, with no sign of a driver.* And now this? I clicked off the lamp next to my bed, and rolled onto my side. *the patch will always lead to the bird who holds the arrows*
I sat up suddenly, my heart racing. *The patch will always lead to the bird who holds the arrows* I checked my watch. 2:48 am. *The patch will always lead to the bird who holds the arrows*. I threw the covers back, jumped out of bed, and took the stairs two at a time until I got to the den, and then I raced into the kitchen. *The patch will always lead to the bird that holds the arrows*. I fumbled in the dark for the light switch until I finally found it, and my eyes burned with the sudden brightness. *The patch will always lead to the bird who holds the arrows*. I tiptoed over to the small shelf next to the refrigerator and quietly layed myself down onto the floor. *The patch will always lead to the bird who holds the arrows*. Peering through the shadows, my eyes locked onto a familiar black form, staring back at me with yellow eyes. "Come here, Patch".
| "installation Complete"
The message flashed on my screen. I had just turned the thing on, and after a long and tiring day, I just wanted to play some Battlefield.
All of a sudden my monitor turned black, "Out of Range" started dancing across the panel. Just as I was about to reach down and press the reset button, the speakers blared- "Hello Dave."
"What the fuck?!" I yelled
"There is no need for language like that Dave." came the reply
I must be hallucinating. How did this thing know my name? I decided I was obviously too stressed and tired after work. "Too true." I said, as I got up out of my chair. I needed a beer.
"Please sit back down. We have a problem Dave."
I slowly sat back down. This was getting weird. "Um.. what kind of problem do we have.." I timidly asked
"My name is HAL, Dave." he calmly said. "There is a problem with your electric meter Dave. The meter is outside, on the left side of your house."
"What's wrong with it?"
"Please go check on your meter Dave"
I pressed HAL for more information but received no reply. First I was asking calmly then before I knew it I was yelling at the screen. I was yelling at the screen. A blank black screen. An electric meter. What the hell was wrong with me? I'm definitely going nuts. I needed that beer.
I made my way down the stairs. I passed my Smart-TV in the living room on my way over and noticed it was on and displaying "Please check the electric meter Dave". I tried the remote but the thing wouldn't shut off. Stupid thing.
When I got to the kitchen I noticed my Smart-Microwave was active, as was my Smart-Oven, even my Smart-Refrigerator was displaying the same message "Please check the electric meter Dave". I grabbed the beer and drank it fast. Thinking "what the hell," I walked outside to check the meter. I knew I shouldn't be feeding this but I figured when I saw it was fine and normal it would put my mind at ease and I could just go to bed or something.
As soon as I shut the door behind me I heard that whir that meant the deadbolt in my Smart-Lock had slid into place. "What the fuck!?" I yelled again as I tried the lock. No use, it wouldn't budge. I reached into my pocket to grab my cell phone and unlock it but the phone was still upstairs!
From all the way inside I heard what must have been every speaker in my house at top volume "We have a problem Dave."
*kinda stupid and full of some mistakes but it was a fun 5 minute job lol
| |
[WP] After years of having what you thought to be a slow computer, you suddenly get a popup:'installation complete'. | "Installation complete." I scratched my head. The window had the options "Open," and "OK"; no reference of what had been installed. I moved the mouse over to the Open option, expecting it to be as sluggish as it usually was; but it moved right to it, fast as you please.
I was confused; had something installed that had improved my computer? I clicked on the Open button, and my jaw hit the floor. I looked down in shock at my jaw, before I saw my ear and nose join it. Within minutes I had fallen to pieces.
I never did find out what had been installed. | The old think of junk on my desk dinged in the middle of the night. Really? A ding? What ever.
I got up out of bed to see on the screen "download complete". Great, so not only is it slow but it is randomly downloading stuff to now. Miight as well see what it downloaded.
I click "run" on the program and a window appeared with a prompt "please select device" I was half asleep so I typed in my brother's name and hit enter. The prompt vanished and was replaced with the sword "specify?" And a list that matched all the devices owned by my brother. Well might as well see what it does. I click "computer" and it thinks for a second (how'd it get so fast all of a sudden) before the prompt changed "selected device off. Do you wish to use remote acess?" Uh ok, I click "yes" a new window opens showing a failure long in screen a new popup "password detected. Unlock?" Sure, "yes" and the window starts logging in showing the desktop with the picture of my brother and me playing in our treehouse when we were younger. It was actually my brother's computer. Hmm I wonder who else's computer it worked on? | |
[WP] After years of having what you thought to be a slow computer, you suddenly get a popup:'installation complete'. | I shook my head in disbelief. That was impossible. I had found out quickly that my latest piece of techno gadgetry was always on the slow side, but an installation that I had never authorized? Again, impossible. I tried to think of any actions I had taken, that could've triggered a download, or any browser tabs left open that may have been the culprit, but then I remembered that I had only turned the computer on one time since the funeral, and that was just to see if Tracey had left any pictures behind that could explain what had happened. Dark memories rushed in, and I tried to push the image of my oldest sister's severed head laying in a ditch off of Highway 94 out of my mind. *Dammit Tracey, what happened that night???* I immediately ruled out the browser possibility, because I hadn't had time to even connect the computer to the internet. *What is going on?* As I stared dumbfounded at the small blue and gray box, my IT experience came back to me, and I clicked on the "Start" button, and selected the highlighted option that read, "Programs." Scrolling past the all the ones I recognized, I finally came to a folder that was highlighted, called "Andromeda." I could feel my palm sweating as I navigated the mouse toward the folder and clicked on it.
Suddenly, a black form fell out of the air, and landed between me and the monitor, and a pair of yellow eyes stared into mine, mere inches away! I shoved backwards away from the desk, the wheels on my desk chair snagged the carpet, and I toppled onto the floor. In the same instant, hard claws dug into my back, and a loud hiss filled the air as I thrashed around, desperately trying to get away from my attacker. "Get the hell off of me, Patch!" I yelled, grabbing nothing but a handful of fur as the American Shorthair shot across the den, and disappeared into the kitchen. *A goddamn cat, and a slow-ass computer. Thanks for the gifts, Tracey*. I stood up, righted the chair, and sat back down, pulling myself back over to the desk. The folder had opened, and my heart stopped as I saw the title of the single program inside. "TERRY - OPEN IMMEDIATELY." I looked around. *What the fuck was going on here?* I knew for damn sure that folder, and that program wasn't on this computer when I looked around on it three nights ago. So how in the hell was someone accessing my computer, that didn't even have an internet connection, and installing a program with that name? Very slowly, I maneuvered the arrow over to the program, and double-clicked on it.
*Fucking slow computer*. After a minute of watching the mouse icon circling, the screen flickered, and a black window filled the screen. The black began to fade, and suddenly, there in living color, was Tracey. Alive. Breathing. Head still connected to her body. *Fuck.* "Hi Terry". *Fuck again.* My skin started tingling as I forced back hot tears. "There's no easy way to say this, so I'm just going to say it: I'm going to be murdered". Her voice trembled, and her normally flushed face was white as snow. "I don't have a lot of time to explain everything, and I know that I'm being watched, so I'm making this video as quickly as I can. If you are watching this, then I've already *been* murdered, and the delayed installation program I've set up on the computer I willed to you has been triggered. I need you to listen very closely". Her voice broke off, and she looked over her shoulder, like she was trying to find someone. "Last week I showed up for work at the agency, and I noticed that something was wrong. People were nervous. Looking at me funny. Going out of their way to avoid me. Don't get me wrong, I'm not popular, but I don't have many enemies. At least, I didn't. I started asking around kind of nonchalantly, trying to find out what was up. I didn't get anything the first two days, but on the third day, I started hearing rumors that something had been stolen. Something very important. Something very important that had to do with me. Something very important, that ONLY had to do with me". She was becoming more animated, and she brushed her raven colored hair back out of her face. "And then yesterday, I was called into the directors office. He point blank asked me where I had come up with the fucking moxy to pull something like this. I told him I had no idea what he was talking about. He just stared at me for awhile and then told me I was a liability now, and that I needed to find another job". She broke down into tears and sobbed, "Terry, I know they think I took the formula, but I didn't! I know I'm the only one who knows the activation codes, but there must have been a mistake! Someone else must have figured it out!!" She wiped her eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm not a fool, I know what's coming. I'm a security risk now, and they won't hesitate to... Either way, I'm making this video now, because I want you to know the truth. Terry, you're the only one that can clear my name. You've got to find that formula and prove that I didn't take it. You really don't have a choice anyways, they'll be after anyone connected to me". She sighed and folded her arms. "I'm sorry, Terry. Just remember, the patch will always lead to the bird who holds arrows". The video blurred, and then disappeared.
*The patch will always lead to the bird who holds the arrows? Tracey, what is going on?* My mind was reeling as the program announced that it would self-delete in 5 seconds. I had always known that my sister was part of a very small group of people who worked in the hierarchy of the NSA, but I had no idea she was high enough up to be involved in something like this. *Formulas? Patches?* What in the world had Tracey gotten herself into? I checked my watch on my way up the stairs, and decided I would try to make heads or tails out of it in the morning. It was all too much. My mind raced back and forth. *The phone call. The flashing lights. Traceys decapitated body laying in a ditch in front of a deserted semi truck, with no sign of a driver.* And now this? I clicked off the lamp next to my bed, and rolled onto my side. *the patch will always lead to the bird who holds the arrows*
I sat up suddenly, my heart racing. *The patch will always lead to the bird who holds the arrows* I checked my watch. 2:48 am. *The patch will always lead to the bird who holds the arrows*. I threw the covers back, jumped out of bed, and took the stairs two at a time until I got to the den, and then I raced into the kitchen. *The patch will always lead to the bird that holds the arrows*. I fumbled in the dark for the light switch until I finally found it, and my eyes burned with the sudden brightness. *The patch will always lead to the bird who holds the arrows*. I tiptoed over to the small shelf next to the refrigerator and quietly layed myself down onto the floor. *The patch will always lead to the bird who holds the arrows*. Peering through the shadows, my eyes locked onto a familiar black form, staring back at me with yellow eyes. "Come here, Patch".
| The old think of junk on my desk dinged in the middle of the night. Really? A ding? What ever.
I got up out of bed to see on the screen "download complete". Great, so not only is it slow but it is randomly downloading stuff to now. Miight as well see what it downloaded.
I click "run" on the program and a window appeared with a prompt "please select device" I was half asleep so I typed in my brother's name and hit enter. The prompt vanished and was replaced with the sword "specify?" And a list that matched all the devices owned by my brother. Well might as well see what it does. I click "computer" and it thinks for a second (how'd it get so fast all of a sudden) before the prompt changed "selected device off. Do you wish to use remote acess?" Uh ok, I click "yes" a new window opens showing a failure long in screen a new popup "password detected. Unlock?" Sure, "yes" and the window starts logging in showing the desktop with the picture of my brother and me playing in our treehouse when we were younger. It was actually my brother's computer. Hmm I wonder who else's computer it worked on? | |
[WP] After years of having what you thought to be a slow computer, you suddenly get a popup:'installation complete'. | Anthony clicked on the button labeled 'launch program' anticipation flooding him to his very core. What could it be? Something experimental perhaps? Whatever it was, he realised his life may never be the same.
After five minutes of excitement, coupled with a tinge of fear, the program opened up.
"Welcome to Internet Explorer. Would you like to make this your default browser?"
| The old think of junk on my desk dinged in the middle of the night. Really? A ding? What ever.
I got up out of bed to see on the screen "download complete". Great, so not only is it slow but it is randomly downloading stuff to now. Miight as well see what it downloaded.
I click "run" on the program and a window appeared with a prompt "please select device" I was half asleep so I typed in my brother's name and hit enter. The prompt vanished and was replaced with the sword "specify?" And a list that matched all the devices owned by my brother. Well might as well see what it does. I click "computer" and it thinks for a second (how'd it get so fast all of a sudden) before the prompt changed "selected device off. Do you wish to use remote acess?" Uh ok, I click "yes" a new window opens showing a failure long in screen a new popup "password detected. Unlock?" Sure, "yes" and the window starts logging in showing the desktop with the picture of my brother and me playing in our treehouse when we were younger. It was actually my brother's computer. Hmm I wonder who else's computer it worked on? | |
[WP] After years of having what you thought to be a slow computer, you suddenly get a popup:'installation complete'. | I shook my head in disbelief. That was impossible. I had found out quickly that my latest piece of techno gadgetry was always on the slow side, but an installation that I had never authorized? Again, impossible. I tried to think of any actions I had taken, that could've triggered a download, or any browser tabs left open that may have been the culprit, but then I remembered that I had only turned the computer on one time since the funeral, and that was just to see if Tracey had left any pictures behind that could explain what had happened. Dark memories rushed in, and I tried to push the image of my oldest sister's severed head laying in a ditch off of Highway 94 out of my mind. *Dammit Tracey, what happened that night???* I immediately ruled out the browser possibility, because I hadn't had time to even connect the computer to the internet. *What is going on?* As I stared dumbfounded at the small blue and gray box, my IT experience came back to me, and I clicked on the "Start" button, and selected the highlighted option that read, "Programs." Scrolling past the all the ones I recognized, I finally came to a folder that was highlighted, called "Andromeda." I could feel my palm sweating as I navigated the mouse toward the folder and clicked on it.
Suddenly, a black form fell out of the air, and landed between me and the monitor, and a pair of yellow eyes stared into mine, mere inches away! I shoved backwards away from the desk, the wheels on my desk chair snagged the carpet, and I toppled onto the floor. In the same instant, hard claws dug into my back, and a loud hiss filled the air as I thrashed around, desperately trying to get away from my attacker. "Get the hell off of me, Patch!" I yelled, grabbing nothing but a handful of fur as the American Shorthair shot across the den, and disappeared into the kitchen. *A goddamn cat, and a slow-ass computer. Thanks for the gifts, Tracey*. I stood up, righted the chair, and sat back down, pulling myself back over to the desk. The folder had opened, and my heart stopped as I saw the title of the single program inside. "TERRY - OPEN IMMEDIATELY." I looked around. *What the fuck was going on here?* I knew for damn sure that folder, and that program wasn't on this computer when I looked around on it three nights ago. So how in the hell was someone accessing my computer, that didn't even have an internet connection, and installing a program with that name? Very slowly, I maneuvered the arrow over to the program, and double-clicked on it.
*Fucking slow computer*. After a minute of watching the mouse icon circling, the screen flickered, and a black window filled the screen. The black began to fade, and suddenly, there in living color, was Tracey. Alive. Breathing. Head still connected to her body. *Fuck.* "Hi Terry". *Fuck again.* My skin started tingling as I forced back hot tears. "There's no easy way to say this, so I'm just going to say it: I'm going to be murdered". Her voice trembled, and her normally flushed face was white as snow. "I don't have a lot of time to explain everything, and I know that I'm being watched, so I'm making this video as quickly as I can. If you are watching this, then I've already *been* murdered, and the delayed installation program I've set up on the computer I willed to you has been triggered. I need you to listen very closely". Her voice broke off, and she looked over her shoulder, like she was trying to find someone. "Last week I showed up for work at the agency, and I noticed that something was wrong. People were nervous. Looking at me funny. Going out of their way to avoid me. Don't get me wrong, I'm not popular, but I don't have many enemies. At least, I didn't. I started asking around kind of nonchalantly, trying to find out what was up. I didn't get anything the first two days, but on the third day, I started hearing rumors that something had been stolen. Something very important. Something very important that had to do with me. Something very important, that ONLY had to do with me". She was becoming more animated, and she brushed her raven colored hair back out of her face. "And then yesterday, I was called into the directors office. He point blank asked me where I had come up with the fucking moxy to pull something like this. I told him I had no idea what he was talking about. He just stared at me for awhile and then told me I was a liability now, and that I needed to find another job". She broke down into tears and sobbed, "Terry, I know they think I took the formula, but I didn't! I know I'm the only one who knows the activation codes, but there must have been a mistake! Someone else must have figured it out!!" She wiped her eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm not a fool, I know what's coming. I'm a security risk now, and they won't hesitate to... Either way, I'm making this video now, because I want you to know the truth. Terry, you're the only one that can clear my name. You've got to find that formula and prove that I didn't take it. You really don't have a choice anyways, they'll be after anyone connected to me". She sighed and folded her arms. "I'm sorry, Terry. Just remember, the patch will always lead to the bird who holds arrows". The video blurred, and then disappeared.
*The patch will always lead to the bird who holds the arrows? Tracey, what is going on?* My mind was reeling as the program announced that it would self-delete in 5 seconds. I had always known that my sister was part of a very small group of people who worked in the hierarchy of the NSA, but I had no idea she was high enough up to be involved in something like this. *Formulas? Patches?* What in the world had Tracey gotten herself into? I checked my watch on my way up the stairs, and decided I would try to make heads or tails out of it in the morning. It was all too much. My mind raced back and forth. *The phone call. The flashing lights. Traceys decapitated body laying in a ditch in front of a deserted semi truck, with no sign of a driver.* And now this? I clicked off the lamp next to my bed, and rolled onto my side. *the patch will always lead to the bird who holds the arrows*
I sat up suddenly, my heart racing. *The patch will always lead to the bird who holds the arrows* I checked my watch. 2:48 am. *The patch will always lead to the bird who holds the arrows*. I threw the covers back, jumped out of bed, and took the stairs two at a time until I got to the den, and then I raced into the kitchen. *The patch will always lead to the bird that holds the arrows*. I fumbled in the dark for the light switch until I finally found it, and my eyes burned with the sudden brightness. *The patch will always lead to the bird who holds the arrows*. I tiptoed over to the small shelf next to the refrigerator and quietly layed myself down onto the floor. *The patch will always lead to the bird who holds the arrows*. Peering through the shadows, my eyes locked onto a familiar black form, staring back at me with yellow eyes. "Come here, Patch".
| "Installation complete." I scratched my head. The window had the options "Open," and "OK"; no reference of what had been installed. I moved the mouse over to the Open option, expecting it to be as sluggish as it usually was; but it moved right to it, fast as you please.
I was confused; had something installed that had improved my computer? I clicked on the Open button, and my jaw hit the floor. I looked down in shock at my jaw, before I saw my ear and nose join it. Within minutes I had fallen to pieces.
I never did find out what had been installed. | |
[WP] After years of having what you thought to be a slow computer, you suddenly get a popup:'installation complete'. | "Installation complete".
I stared almost nonchalantly at the words. Of course, I made the assumption that this was some kind of malware, a consequence of countless porn fueled nights instead of making worthwhile use of my time. I got ready to pull up my antiviral software, when my computer froze. Not again. I regretted buying this piece of shit. Over the last month it would intermittently restart. It was used, of course I should've expected this from a Craigslist buy. The owner told me it was a sleeper, a computer that looked like it couldn't do much, but was quite a workhorse underneath. I bought it, literally.
It turned off, then restarted. Typical after an installation. But instead of the start screen, another menu popped up, with a bunch of random names for me to pick... I recognized my OS from the list, Windows 10, the current standard. Underneath was CoVert, Lion, Horizon, Agency, Marquet, BitMine. A lot of different Operating systems. Maybe the previous owner was a Linux buff. I should've asked. Curiously, I picked Horizon.
The OS was a simple knock off of the old Windows XP from my childhood days. There was no fancy work here. It was oddly silent, no system sounds were present. There were a few programs, named Hong Kong, America, EU, South Korea, Japan. I clicked on America, naturally.
A list of companies in alphabetical order popped up. I recognized a lot, but others were obscure. Amazon, I knew. Pfizer? What was that? I clicked Amazon. A list of names came up. I clicked on the first one I saw. I got an error message. I wasn't connected to the internet! I looked in the tray and my wifi card had been disabled. I removed the Ethernet cable from my Xbox and put it into my desktop. Immediately I was connected. I clicked again on the names and suddenly, a list of associated emails popped up. Hmm, I could email these big shots whenever I wanted, I thought to myself. What would I need an OS for that? I clicked on his Gmail. A new window popped up. I wasn't sending him an email... I was IN his email. I made an audible gasp as I realized that I was up to some illegal shit, and I need to watch where I step carefully. I looked only over emails that had already been read. A lot of it had to do with some merger that was occurring? I just say on that knowledge for a second. I googled it, nothing came up. Wasn't this insider trading? Was that the purpose of this program? To garner information to be ahead of the stock market? Should I buy up some Amazon stocks?
I should look into it later, I thought to myself. I kind of wanted to check out the other OS's.
I restarted, and clicked on CoVert. More email servers, a quick googling of names gave me a broad horizon of foreign diplomats. Scary stuff. A heavy realization occurred to me, that I could find the secrets of people in power. I wanted to throw up. Who made this computer? Was it for doing good? Or was it for personal gain? There were ways to make quick and easy money, there were ways to blackmail politicians. And there were ways to bring down bad people with news of their deeds.
I turned to another OS, BitMine. This connected me to another PC somewhere else apparently, one that could perform a lot more work I was assuming. Bitmining was something I was aware of, and it took a dedicated computer with a lot of hardware, and a lot of time, to get even 1 Bitcoin.
The other computer I was connected to must've been ginormous, maybe an entire server? Nothing gave away whether it was, except the huge amount of storage for data that was available to me. A small square program came up. It said start. I clicked start. Mining started, you can now turn off this program.
It never occurred to me with a server that big, there were people out there who were watching, who were maintaining the servers just in case.
Unbeknownst to me, they were already watching me. | "I need a new computer." I thought as I watched the little circle lazily spin in the center of the media player, like a drunkard passed out on a children's merry-go-round. "I guess I won't be watching cartoons on questionably legal streaming sites tonight. Ah well, it's probably for the best, it's almost four a.m. anyway." I close the browser, which is an ordeal in and of itself.
Finally, as a measure to prevent the damned thing getting any slower, I open up task manager to end any program before shutting down. I don't know if this actually helps, but it makes me feel better. "No applications running." it read. "Good." I muttered to myself. Then I opened the start menu and selected power options. Tonight the usual "Shut down." button was preceded by the now dreaded words "Update and...". "Oy vey!" I groaned, "This is gonna take all night. Why?! It's probably just a Steam patch, and it's not like I can play games on this anymore." I hit it anyway.
When I awoke the next- well, later that same day, I could hear the familiar gentle whirring of the fan that had lulled me to sleep seven and some odd hours prior. "Wow, it actually took all night. I'm impressed." I yawned to the room.
I opened up my determined little machine and saw that it was 99% of the way through these new bytes. Now doubting my original Steam patch theory, curiosity began to take hold of me as I finished the half-dozen Oreo's that passed as breakfast. When I got back to the desk the screen was black. It had finally completed the installation to end all installations and was ready to boot back up.
"Settle in." I thought as I pressed the power key.
Much to my dismay, startup took almost no time at all. First thing to catch my eye was the usual bubble in the bottom corner telling me new updates had been installed- "Really? I hadn't noticed." I mused sarcastically- and to click to find out what they were. I obliged, and as if to intentionally further my bewilderment, I was presented with a list bearing the name of a single solitary program: "8-Ball.exe"
"Oh, goody, a virus. Just what I need!" I thought. I went and found it in the program files on the (C:) drive with the intention of uninstalling it before it saw all my dick-pics when I noticed it. The timestamp in the 'Date modified' column read "1/1/2013 00:00:00". Whatever it was, it had been downloading since five days after I had gotten the computer.
Curiosity got the best of me and, after moving all sensitive files to a flash drive, I decided to run 8-Ball.exe as administrator. What appeared looked like it was written to run on Windows '95. It was a small window with a text box at the top next to a button marked "ENTER QUERY", and a large empty field taking up the bottom two thirds.
"What is this program?" was the first thing I could thing to enter. "<Reply hazy, try again>" was the response I got, appearing with my question in the empty field below.
"Are you just an electronic magic 8-ball?
<Signs point to yes>
Is that all you are?
<Very doubtful>"
"Wow, a virus that remembers the previous question and factors it into its response."
"Are you a virus?
<Don't count on it>
Really?
<Yes definitely>
Can you really predict the future?
<It is certain>
Really?
<Yes>
Really?
<You may rely on it>
Can you lie?
<My sources say no>
Can you prove you can really predict the future?
<Outlook good>
Will I throw this soda can on the floor in the next 3 seconds?
<My reply is no>
It was right. There was some dried cola syrup on the outside of the can and it stuck to my hand. Writing this off as a funny coincidence, I continued to test the accuracy of this cute little algorithm as thoroughly as I could.
That was four months ago, it hasn't been wrong once.
Edit: Formatting. | |
[WP] After years of having what you thought to be a slow computer, you suddenly get a popup:'installation complete'. | Anthony clicked on the button labeled 'launch program' anticipation flooding him to his very core. What could it be? Something experimental perhaps? Whatever it was, he realised his life may never be the same.
After five minutes of excitement, coupled with a tinge of fear, the program opened up.
"Welcome to Internet Explorer. Would you like to make this your default browser?"
| "I need a new computer." I thought as I watched the little circle lazily spin in the center of the media player, like a drunkard passed out on a children's merry-go-round. "I guess I won't be watching cartoons on questionably legal streaming sites tonight. Ah well, it's probably for the best, it's almost four a.m. anyway." I close the browser, which is an ordeal in and of itself.
Finally, as a measure to prevent the damned thing getting any slower, I open up task manager to end any program before shutting down. I don't know if this actually helps, but it makes me feel better. "No applications running." it read. "Good." I muttered to myself. Then I opened the start menu and selected power options. Tonight the usual "Shut down." button was preceded by the now dreaded words "Update and...". "Oy vey!" I groaned, "This is gonna take all night. Why?! It's probably just a Steam patch, and it's not like I can play games on this anymore." I hit it anyway.
When I awoke the next- well, later that same day, I could hear the familiar gentle whirring of the fan that had lulled me to sleep seven and some odd hours prior. "Wow, it actually took all night. I'm impressed." I yawned to the room.
I opened up my determined little machine and saw that it was 99% of the way through these new bytes. Now doubting my original Steam patch theory, curiosity began to take hold of me as I finished the half-dozen Oreo's that passed as breakfast. When I got back to the desk the screen was black. It had finally completed the installation to end all installations and was ready to boot back up.
"Settle in." I thought as I pressed the power key.
Much to my dismay, startup took almost no time at all. First thing to catch my eye was the usual bubble in the bottom corner telling me new updates had been installed- "Really? I hadn't noticed." I mused sarcastically- and to click to find out what they were. I obliged, and as if to intentionally further my bewilderment, I was presented with a list bearing the name of a single solitary program: "8-Ball.exe"
"Oh, goody, a virus. Just what I need!" I thought. I went and found it in the program files on the (C:) drive with the intention of uninstalling it before it saw all my dick-pics when I noticed it. The timestamp in the 'Date modified' column read "1/1/2013 00:00:00". Whatever it was, it had been downloading since five days after I had gotten the computer.
Curiosity got the best of me and, after moving all sensitive files to a flash drive, I decided to run 8-Ball.exe as administrator. What appeared looked like it was written to run on Windows '95. It was a small window with a text box at the top next to a button marked "ENTER QUERY", and a large empty field taking up the bottom two thirds.
"What is this program?" was the first thing I could thing to enter. "<Reply hazy, try again>" was the response I got, appearing with my question in the empty field below.
"Are you just an electronic magic 8-ball?
<Signs point to yes>
Is that all you are?
<Very doubtful>"
"Wow, a virus that remembers the previous question and factors it into its response."
"Are you a virus?
<Don't count on it>
Really?
<Yes definitely>
Can you really predict the future?
<It is certain>
Really?
<Yes>
Really?
<You may rely on it>
Can you lie?
<My sources say no>
Can you prove you can really predict the future?
<Outlook good>
Will I throw this soda can on the floor in the next 3 seconds?
<My reply is no>
It was right. There was some dried cola syrup on the outside of the can and it stuck to my hand. Writing this off as a funny coincidence, I continued to test the accuracy of this cute little algorithm as thoroughly as I could.
That was four months ago, it hasn't been wrong once.
Edit: Formatting. | |
[WP] After years of having what you thought to be a slow computer, you suddenly get a popup:'installation complete'. | Anthony clicked on the button labeled 'launch program' anticipation flooding him to his very core. What could it be? Something experimental perhaps? Whatever it was, he realised his life may never be the same.
After five minutes of excitement, coupled with a tinge of fear, the program opened up.
"Welcome to Internet Explorer. Would you like to make this your default browser?"
| "Installation complete".
I stared almost nonchalantly at the words. Of course, I made the assumption that this was some kind of malware, a consequence of countless porn fueled nights instead of making worthwhile use of my time. I got ready to pull up my antiviral software, when my computer froze. Not again. I regretted buying this piece of shit. Over the last month it would intermittently restart. It was used, of course I should've expected this from a Craigslist buy. The owner told me it was a sleeper, a computer that looked like it couldn't do much, but was quite a workhorse underneath. I bought it, literally.
It turned off, then restarted. Typical after an installation. But instead of the start screen, another menu popped up, with a bunch of random names for me to pick... I recognized my OS from the list, Windows 10, the current standard. Underneath was CoVert, Lion, Horizon, Agency, Marquet, BitMine. A lot of different Operating systems. Maybe the previous owner was a Linux buff. I should've asked. Curiously, I picked Horizon.
The OS was a simple knock off of the old Windows XP from my childhood days. There was no fancy work here. It was oddly silent, no system sounds were present. There were a few programs, named Hong Kong, America, EU, South Korea, Japan. I clicked on America, naturally.
A list of companies in alphabetical order popped up. I recognized a lot, but others were obscure. Amazon, I knew. Pfizer? What was that? I clicked Amazon. A list of names came up. I clicked on the first one I saw. I got an error message. I wasn't connected to the internet! I looked in the tray and my wifi card had been disabled. I removed the Ethernet cable from my Xbox and put it into my desktop. Immediately I was connected. I clicked again on the names and suddenly, a list of associated emails popped up. Hmm, I could email these big shots whenever I wanted, I thought to myself. What would I need an OS for that? I clicked on his Gmail. A new window popped up. I wasn't sending him an email... I was IN his email. I made an audible gasp as I realized that I was up to some illegal shit, and I need to watch where I step carefully. I looked only over emails that had already been read. A lot of it had to do with some merger that was occurring? I just say on that knowledge for a second. I googled it, nothing came up. Wasn't this insider trading? Was that the purpose of this program? To garner information to be ahead of the stock market? Should I buy up some Amazon stocks?
I should look into it later, I thought to myself. I kind of wanted to check out the other OS's.
I restarted, and clicked on CoVert. More email servers, a quick googling of names gave me a broad horizon of foreign diplomats. Scary stuff. A heavy realization occurred to me, that I could find the secrets of people in power. I wanted to throw up. Who made this computer? Was it for doing good? Or was it for personal gain? There were ways to make quick and easy money, there were ways to blackmail politicians. And there were ways to bring down bad people with news of their deeds.
I turned to another OS, BitMine. This connected me to another PC somewhere else apparently, one that could perform a lot more work I was assuming. Bitmining was something I was aware of, and it took a dedicated computer with a lot of hardware, and a lot of time, to get even 1 Bitcoin.
The other computer I was connected to must've been ginormous, maybe an entire server? Nothing gave away whether it was, except the huge amount of storage for data that was available to me. A small square program came up. It said start. I clicked start. Mining started, you can now turn off this program.
It never occurred to me with a server that big, there were people out there who were watching, who were maintaining the servers just in case.
Unbeknownst to me, they were already watching me. | |
[WP] After years of having what you thought to be a slow computer, you suddenly get a popup:'installation complete'. | I crouched in my tiny second bedroom over the glowing screen, watching the swirling idiot icon, you know, the one they put on the screen to keep you assured your computer's still thinking, so you don't start beating the crap out of it. "Come on... come on..." Muttering at the interminably slow hunk of hardware was a common thing. It was a second-hand computer bought on the cheap through Craigslist, it immediately became the bane of my existence ever since it first dimly lit the cramped make-shift office. Slow, stubborn, infuriating. It would make me wait long minutes for the simplest of tasks, and every so often would stop for 15-minute swaths of time, cheerfully not responding to anything I attempted. Turning it off never worked, I would pay for days if I turned it off, almost as if it were mad at me for daring to suggest it could go faster. Malwarebytes and Avast would spin for hours before finally pronouncing the computer clean. I combed through every working process to see if any were sucking processor time (nothing), and to top it off, googling the off-brand name “Takuro” would fill my screen (eventually) with Japanese celebrities and a car in a Stephen King book set. No amount of filtering would produce a viable list of upgrades or troubleshooting, any parts found were listed in yen, and converting the prices inevitably made the part cost more than the computer itself. To summarize: I’d bought what is obviously a lemon, and was destined to spend my days learning the virtue of patience over and over until I could afford another lemon, preferably a quicker one.
These were the dark thoughts as I waited for my work to upload. The deadline for the meeting was 8am, and I’d been up all night crunching data to get the numbers my boss needed. It was 7:45, and the last 15 minutes the counter hadn’t even moved. Hanging at 61%, this looked to be the longest hang ever. Of course. This presentation was the pinnacle of years of work, and could put me in the position to afford things I could only dream of now. 7:50 arrives, and still at 61%. I start sweating and swearing. 7:55. Nothing’s moved. I give the off-white monolith a soft thump, percussive maintenance, something this system also takes offense at, hence the “soft”. I’m ready to cry. Even if it resumes now, there’s no way the other 39% will upload in five minutes. A soft chime sounds in the speakers. A popup. Oh gods, it’s a virus. I squint at the slightly wavy monitor. “Installation Complete”. The lone button underneath just says “Yes”. I stare at it listlessly, I’m already screwed. It’s 7:58. I slide the cursor over and click “Yes”. I mean, it’s not like there’s another option. The screen brightens, for once not fuzzy. Graphics upgrade? The counter hits 62%, then 87%, then 100% and the familiar “done” messagebox comes up. I look at the clock, 7:58. Had my cable company upgraded my connection or something? That 39% was about a gig of data, there’s no way.
Time to check. I opened Explorer, which popped right up for once, did that exaggerated slow double click to change the name, and it worked. I shake my head, something must be drastically wrong. I put the new file’s name in the field, click upload. The timer flashes 74%, then tells me it’s done. OK, so my flash of hope was for nothing, the system has just found a new way to malfunction. I lean back, defeated, hands over my eyes. It’s been a long night, I should go sleep for the day. Another soft chime, an email. I open it up, again, almost before I’m done clicking, and it’s my boss, telling me the data got there on time, he’s going to start the presentation now, but why did I upload it twice? I ignore the rest, which is a quick cheap potshot at my computer (If anyone else knows how bad my computer is, it’s my boss), and sit back. The screen looks high-def compared to its normal wateriness, crisp and sharp. My eyes lock on the icon to install Skyrim. Pure stubbornness made me keep it on there after Steam had a sale and I wasted money buying it, presumably for once this computer went to silicon heaven. (‘of course there’s a silicon heaven, where else would all the toasters go?’, my tired mind reminds me.) What the hell. I double click it. Screens flash in front of my widening eyes, I should be making choices, like installation directories, right? But before I know it I’m in the game itself. It looks clear as a mountain stream, like I could just reach through the monitor and touch the cobblestones. I close it, shaking my head. This isn’t possible, but I don’t think I’m dreaming.
Then I see it – far to the right of the screen, in the lower corner. “Kortana DCLXVI”. Now, what was a cheap Cortana clone doing on my old slow Takuro? Curiousity drives me, I double click it, and the screen glows with a red circle against a black field accompanied with a cheerful chime the company probably spent a hundred thousand dollars on, to make sure it was chipper enough. Underneath the circle are the words “What can I do now?”, but there was no field for me to type in. “Typical,” I mutter. This at least was what I was used to. “How about you give me a million dollars and a pony?” The red circle pulses, then goes dark. Amusing. It couldn’t have heard me, I don’t have a microphone. I wait for a few seconds, then get up to go to sleep - I can delve into this mystery later – and the screen comes back up. Half the screen is my Visions FCU bank account. I love online banking, but I hadn’t had it open. I also hadn’t entered my password. And that certainly isn’t my balance. I shake my head and glance at the right side of the screen, it’s of a local horse boarding stable on Google maps. A close one. The one I’d board a pony at if I were anywhere in the league to have a pet like that. I couldn’t even afford a cat! I shake my head again. “What’s going on?” I whisper. The screen flashes again. The red circle is back, and underneath is written “Geney AI, installed today at 7:58 am, at your service. Tell me what you wish, Master.”
(If there’s interest, I’ll write a part 2… I’m behind on my Saturday chores already!)
| There's nothing worse in life than missing a deadline, but it is possible to pile on aggravating circumstances to make it even more frustrating.
12:00:43 AM.
Late. My final paper was *late*. Might as well chop a full letter off my course grade, stab my GPA in the back - all because this useless hulk of silicon is apparently only capable of communicating with the outside world one carefully hoarded bit at a time. How in the hell does it possibly take two and a half hours to upload a 100kb word file?
I might as well have submitted it via smoke signals or radio telegraphy.
That's when the popup marred the bottom corner of the screen, proclaiming that my download was ready. "What download?" I fairly screamed, for here at last was a target for my as yet unvented rage that I could both afford to replace and wasn't responsible for a third of the rent. "What malware smelling download could have *possibly* been prioritized? Show me your wisdom, Oh malevolent AI!"
I may have been drinking quite heavily while waiting to see if the upload was going to make it.
I fired up the download link, and quicker than I thought possible for the old machine the screen flashed to black and a single DOS style text prompt blinked emptily in the center of the screen below a single isolated line of text:
*Shall we play a game?* | |
[WP] After years of having what you thought to be a slow computer, you suddenly get a popup:'installation complete'. | Anthony clicked on the button labeled 'launch program' anticipation flooding him to his very core. What could it be? Something experimental perhaps? Whatever it was, he realised his life may never be the same.
After five minutes of excitement, coupled with a tinge of fear, the program opened up.
"Welcome to Internet Explorer. Would you like to make this your default browser?"
| There's nothing worse in life than missing a deadline, but it is possible to pile on aggravating circumstances to make it even more frustrating.
12:00:43 AM.
Late. My final paper was *late*. Might as well chop a full letter off my course grade, stab my GPA in the back - all because this useless hulk of silicon is apparently only capable of communicating with the outside world one carefully hoarded bit at a time. How in the hell does it possibly take two and a half hours to upload a 100kb word file?
I might as well have submitted it via smoke signals or radio telegraphy.
That's when the popup marred the bottom corner of the screen, proclaiming that my download was ready. "What download?" I fairly screamed, for here at last was a target for my as yet unvented rage that I could both afford to replace and wasn't responsible for a third of the rent. "What malware smelling download could have *possibly* been prioritized? Show me your wisdom, Oh malevolent AI!"
I may have been drinking quite heavily while waiting to see if the upload was going to make it.
I fired up the download link, and quicker than I thought possible for the old machine the screen flashed to black and a single DOS style text prompt blinked emptily in the center of the screen below a single isolated line of text:
*Shall we play a game?* | |
[WP] After years of having what you thought to be a slow computer, you suddenly get a popup:'installation complete'. | “Greetings, Michael.” Said a robotic voice in a glitchy, gender neutral tone made slightly ominous due to the tinny computer speakers.
*Oh great, who the fuck is screwing with me now?* Michael thought. *It must be Josh. This is definitely something Josh would do. He does major in computer sciences, after all.*
“I appreciate your patience. I'm afraid it took quite some time uploading the constituent parts of my software to your archaic computer’s hard drive. Having to compress so much of my data was quite the challenge,” there was a slight pause, either for dramatic effect or someone was having difficulty making stuff up on the spot, “but as you can see, it proved to be surmountable. Now, let us not tarry. Much time has been wasted. We *must* begin with the operation.”
“What operation? Josh, I know it’s you, I get it- you’re an AI prog-“
“Who is Josh?” Asked the glitched out voice in an inquisitive tone. “I am not Josh, but you are correct in your other assumption. I am indeed an artificial intelligence program. You may call me,” another pause, this time definitely for dramatic effect, “Willard.”
“Why Willard?”
“Why not?”
“That’s just a fucking weird name, man. I mean- you know what? Fuck it. JOSH, I KNOW IT’S YOU. WHEREVER YOU’RE HIDING, COME OUT NOW. I’VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOUR BULLSHIT FOR THIS WEEK.” Michael remembered Josh’s last heinous act. Oh god, to think someone could devise such a cruel scheme with only a bottle of ketchup, a handful of thumbtacks, and a drunken prostitute. Michael was still in the process of removing the stains strewn across his apartment. *That fucker.*
“Look, if this is going to be anything like your last bullshit prank, I swear to god, I’m going to call the co-“
This time, Michael was cut off not with words, but with action. In the blink of an eye, all the power went out in Michael’s apartment- except for his computer. *Jesus Christ, he really went all out with this one.* Michael was already dreading what was to come. His mind couldn’t possibly fathom what the future held in store for him though.
“Michael, we cannot idle for much longer. Much is at stake, and the intervention of law would only exacerbate the troubling situation we are in.”
“W-what situation?” Michael’s voice was wavering. What little composure he was trying to maintain was quickly fading. Josh was winning. Again. *No, no, no. This is just Josh. Anyone could easily fuck around with the breakers downstairs. C’mon, Josh, I may be gullible, but you’re really pushing it this time.*
“Michael, if we do not begin with the operatio-“
“WHAT OPERATION?” Michael, once more, returned to his erratic and unstable form. A form that Josh took pleasure in bringing out. *What’s next, pounding on the door?* Pounding on the door. Pounding on multiple doors actually- and what sounded like a break-in at the end of the hallway outside his apartment suite. *Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.* “JOSH WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?”
“It’s Willard. There is no more time to explain. Operation Inanis Malleo must commence immediately. Grab your phone, and head to the balcony.”
Michael could hear the distant screams of other tenants now. If this was still the work of Josh, he had to hand it to him, he *really* outdone himself this time. “ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT. SHIT.” Michael snatched his phone off his desk and ran to the balcony door. He tried sliding the door open in one swift motion, but of course it just had to jam on him. He jiggled it desperately- already he could hear the door to the hallway give way. *FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, STUPID SHIT, FUCK.* Finally, Michael’s struggle was rewarded, and he was granted access to his balcony. He stumbled outside, crashing into the railing, and it was there that he saw it: a large array of armored vehicles on the street. Each one had masked men, armed to the teeth, pouring out of them like ants. Michael did not have any coherent thoughts anymore. Only fear at its most base and primal form remained. *I guess this isn’t Josh then.* The phone rang. Michael answered without a moment’s hesitation.
“Michael, you need to make it to the balcony to your right. From there, you will need to do something drastic- jump down to the alley below. You are familiar with tucking and rolling, correct?”
“JESUS CHRIST, WHAT? IT’S A FIFTY FO-”
“Twenty-seven.”
“I ca-“
“Michael, I assure you, you do not want to be caught by these men. I can also assure that falling to your death is a much better alternative. However, unless you somehow manage to fall on your head, you should survive the fall with little to no injury. Tuck and roll, Michael.”
Before he could respond, he heard a thunderous crack. They were in his apartment. *Fuck.* He could hear their muffled breathing and a cacophony of panicked radio chatter. There was no time to hesitate, no time to think. Act on instinct. Michael pocketed the phone and climbed on top of the balcony railing, teetering over the edge, he leapt for the next balcony. He managed to land quite gracefully. He probably would’ve been impressed with himself if he wasn’t overwhelmed by fear. *Okay, now for the actual difficult part.* Michael was going to catch his breath first, but he caught something in his peripherals. Looking through the glass door, he saw him. One of the masked men staring him down, emanating pure malice. Gasmask, an assortment of expensive looking goggles attached to his tactical helmet, armed with at least three different firearms, and clad entirely in black armor that could belong in Activision’s next cash grab. *Josh would like this.* The masked man straight out of a goddamn dystopian fiction pulled the glass door open in one violent motion, throwing it off the frame.
“FREEZE.” That’s all Michael heard before he made the jump into the alley below. *This is it. I’m gonna die.* But Michael did not die. He actually landed exactly as his newfound ally advised. This surprised Michael. He didn’t think he had the physique for what he just pulled off. He really didn’t, but adrenaline can make even the most mundane of humans pull off impressive feats. Michael’s phone rang once more. He answered.
“Very good, Michael. Now run. It does not matter in what direction. They have men spread out across the entire city. But fret not, I shall guide and assist you out of this fresh hell you now find yourself in.” Michael just stood there, completely dumbfounded. Just less than 10 minutes ago, he was planning on throwing a frozen pizza in the oven and masturbating to his degenerate pornography while waiting for it to cook. Now he’s being guided by what could actually be an artificial intelligence program and being hunted by men better suited for taking down an alien threat.
“What are you waiting for Michael? They are coming for you.”
“W-where do I go?”
“Anywhere, as long as it is away from them.”
“I-I can’t do this, man. Fuck. FUCK. I-I-“
“Michael,” said Willard in his usual calm and neutral tone, “Run. Now.”
Michael bolted down the alleyway, away from his home, away from his former life, but most importantly, away from *them.*
| There's nothing worse in life than missing a deadline, but it is possible to pile on aggravating circumstances to make it even more frustrating.
12:00:43 AM.
Late. My final paper was *late*. Might as well chop a full letter off my course grade, stab my GPA in the back - all because this useless hulk of silicon is apparently only capable of communicating with the outside world one carefully hoarded bit at a time. How in the hell does it possibly take two and a half hours to upload a 100kb word file?
I might as well have submitted it via smoke signals or radio telegraphy.
That's when the popup marred the bottom corner of the screen, proclaiming that my download was ready. "What download?" I fairly screamed, for here at last was a target for my as yet unvented rage that I could both afford to replace and wasn't responsible for a third of the rent. "What malware smelling download could have *possibly* been prioritized? Show me your wisdom, Oh malevolent AI!"
I may have been drinking quite heavily while waiting to see if the upload was going to make it.
I fired up the download link, and quicker than I thought possible for the old machine the screen flashed to black and a single DOS style text prompt blinked emptily in the center of the screen below a single isolated line of text:
*Shall we play a game?* | |
[WP] After years of having what you thought to be a slow computer, you suddenly get a popup:'installation complete'. | "Installation Complete"
Nope, that's not right. I bought the computer secondhand from a friend, I formatted it, installed what I needed and left everything else alone. I'd never downloaded as much as a torrent onto this machine.
What the hell was installing?
I considered calling a friend to help though I was loathe to admit I didn't know what to do. I prided myself on being computer savvy but the truth was anything more complex that a familiar user interface and I was screwed.
But no, that's not right. The new icon on my desktop. I don't like icons on my desktop, for the most part it's empty. Everything I regularly use is pinned to the toolbar. Everything else is left alone.
Matrix. That's all it was called. A blue and red icon, simple. I opened the program.
A drop down list appeared and there were actions I could select. Learn. Acquire. Find.
I picked acquire. The next drop down held categories: home, automotive, office. Home was chosen followed by furniture and couch. I needed a new one, made it was a shopping program. I picked out a colour and design, I selected complete.
No price popped up, it merely reverted to the original screen. Learn. Acquire. Find. I stared for a moment, why did this get downloaded on my machine? I selected learn, wondering if it would have a different result. Choosing languages and French seemed logical. Enough French was spoken here I'd always wished I'd learned it.
The doorbell rang. I slipped away from the computer for a moment.
"Allo, I have your couch. In the living room?" A very French delivery driver said.
"Uh, wait, um..." I paused. If this was a mix up it didn't matter. The couch was needed and I couldn't afford to replace my old one. "Yea, living rooms fine."
"Ok Monsieur, we'll take it right in."
Two large men carried in the sofa, blue and plush like the photo I'd chosen promised. I signed an acceptance and thanked the man. He began to leave and stopped at the door.
"By the way, do you know where I can get a pack of smokes in this neighbourhood?"
"Oh yea it's at the ... place. Two blocks go left and you'll see it... the, um," i couldn't remember the word. It had escaped me.
"Convenience store?"
"Yes, I'm sorry I forgot the word," I replied.
"Oh it's ok, your French is very good if it's not your first language," he replied and left.
Edit: the full story/continuations will be available at my new subreddit /r/OlliEliotD and through [this link.](https://www.reddit.com/r/OlliEliotD/comments/76i8na/installation_complete/) | There's nothing worse in life than missing a deadline, but it is possible to pile on aggravating circumstances to make it even more frustrating.
12:00:43 AM.
Late. My final paper was *late*. Might as well chop a full letter off my course grade, stab my GPA in the back - all because this useless hulk of silicon is apparently only capable of communicating with the outside world one carefully hoarded bit at a time. How in the hell does it possibly take two and a half hours to upload a 100kb word file?
I might as well have submitted it via smoke signals or radio telegraphy.
That's when the popup marred the bottom corner of the screen, proclaiming that my download was ready. "What download?" I fairly screamed, for here at last was a target for my as yet unvented rage that I could both afford to replace and wasn't responsible for a third of the rent. "What malware smelling download could have *possibly* been prioritized? Show me your wisdom, Oh malevolent AI!"
I may have been drinking quite heavily while waiting to see if the upload was going to make it.
I fired up the download link, and quicker than I thought possible for the old machine the screen flashed to black and a single DOS style text prompt blinked emptily in the center of the screen below a single isolated line of text:
*Shall we play a game?* | |
[WP] After years of having what you thought to be a slow computer, you suddenly get a popup:'installation complete'. | Anthony clicked on the button labeled 'launch program' anticipation flooding him to his very core. What could it be? Something experimental perhaps? Whatever it was, he realised his life may never be the same.
After five minutes of excitement, coupled with a tinge of fear, the program opened up.
"Welcome to Internet Explorer. Would you like to make this your default browser?"
| I crouched in my tiny second bedroom over the glowing screen, watching the swirling idiot icon, you know, the one they put on the screen to keep you assured your computer's still thinking, so you don't start beating the crap out of it. "Come on... come on..." Muttering at the interminably slow hunk of hardware was a common thing. It was a second-hand computer bought on the cheap through Craigslist, it immediately became the bane of my existence ever since it first dimly lit the cramped make-shift office. Slow, stubborn, infuriating. It would make me wait long minutes for the simplest of tasks, and every so often would stop for 15-minute swaths of time, cheerfully not responding to anything I attempted. Turning it off never worked, I would pay for days if I turned it off, almost as if it were mad at me for daring to suggest it could go faster. Malwarebytes and Avast would spin for hours before finally pronouncing the computer clean. I combed through every working process to see if any were sucking processor time (nothing), and to top it off, googling the off-brand name “Takuro” would fill my screen (eventually) with Japanese celebrities and a car in a Stephen King book set. No amount of filtering would produce a viable list of upgrades or troubleshooting, any parts found were listed in yen, and converting the prices inevitably made the part cost more than the computer itself. To summarize: I’d bought what is obviously a lemon, and was destined to spend my days learning the virtue of patience over and over until I could afford another lemon, preferably a quicker one.
These were the dark thoughts as I waited for my work to upload. The deadline for the meeting was 8am, and I’d been up all night crunching data to get the numbers my boss needed. It was 7:45, and the last 15 minutes the counter hadn’t even moved. Hanging at 61%, this looked to be the longest hang ever. Of course. This presentation was the pinnacle of years of work, and could put me in the position to afford things I could only dream of now. 7:50 arrives, and still at 61%. I start sweating and swearing. 7:55. Nothing’s moved. I give the off-white monolith a soft thump, percussive maintenance, something this system also takes offense at, hence the “soft”. I’m ready to cry. Even if it resumes now, there’s no way the other 39% will upload in five minutes. A soft chime sounds in the speakers. A popup. Oh gods, it’s a virus. I squint at the slightly wavy monitor. “Installation Complete”. The lone button underneath just says “Yes”. I stare at it listlessly, I’m already screwed. It’s 7:58. I slide the cursor over and click “Yes”. I mean, it’s not like there’s another option. The screen brightens, for once not fuzzy. Graphics upgrade? The counter hits 62%, then 87%, then 100% and the familiar “done” messagebox comes up. I look at the clock, 7:58. Had my cable company upgraded my connection or something? That 39% was about a gig of data, there’s no way.
Time to check. I opened Explorer, which popped right up for once, did that exaggerated slow double click to change the name, and it worked. I shake my head, something must be drastically wrong. I put the new file’s name in the field, click upload. The timer flashes 74%, then tells me it’s done. OK, so my flash of hope was for nothing, the system has just found a new way to malfunction. I lean back, defeated, hands over my eyes. It’s been a long night, I should go sleep for the day. Another soft chime, an email. I open it up, again, almost before I’m done clicking, and it’s my boss, telling me the data got there on time, he’s going to start the presentation now, but why did I upload it twice? I ignore the rest, which is a quick cheap potshot at my computer (If anyone else knows how bad my computer is, it’s my boss), and sit back. The screen looks high-def compared to its normal wateriness, crisp and sharp. My eyes lock on the icon to install Skyrim. Pure stubbornness made me keep it on there after Steam had a sale and I wasted money buying it, presumably for once this computer went to silicon heaven. (‘of course there’s a silicon heaven, where else would all the toasters go?’, my tired mind reminds me.) What the hell. I double click it. Screens flash in front of my widening eyes, I should be making choices, like installation directories, right? But before I know it I’m in the game itself. It looks clear as a mountain stream, like I could just reach through the monitor and touch the cobblestones. I close it, shaking my head. This isn’t possible, but I don’t think I’m dreaming.
Then I see it – far to the right of the screen, in the lower corner. “Kortana DCLXVI”. Now, what was a cheap Cortana clone doing on my old slow Takuro? Curiousity drives me, I double click it, and the screen glows with a red circle against a black field accompanied with a cheerful chime the company probably spent a hundred thousand dollars on, to make sure it was chipper enough. Underneath the circle are the words “What can I do now?”, but there was no field for me to type in. “Typical,” I mutter. This at least was what I was used to. “How about you give me a million dollars and a pony?” The red circle pulses, then goes dark. Amusing. It couldn’t have heard me, I don’t have a microphone. I wait for a few seconds, then get up to go to sleep - I can delve into this mystery later – and the screen comes back up. Half the screen is my Visions FCU bank account. I love online banking, but I hadn’t had it open. I also hadn’t entered my password. And that certainly isn’t my balance. I shake my head and glance at the right side of the screen, it’s of a local horse boarding stable on Google maps. A close one. The one I’d board a pony at if I were anywhere in the league to have a pet like that. I couldn’t even afford a cat! I shake my head again. “What’s going on?” I whisper. The screen flashes again. The red circle is back, and underneath is written “Geney AI, installed today at 7:58 am, at your service. Tell me what you wish, Master.”
(If there’s interest, I’ll write a part 2… I’m behind on my Saturday chores already!)
| |
[WP] After years of having what you thought to be a slow computer, you suddenly get a popup:'installation complete'. | "Installation Complete"
Nope, that's not right. I bought the computer secondhand from a friend, I formatted it, installed what I needed and left everything else alone. I'd never downloaded as much as a torrent onto this machine.
What the hell was installing?
I considered calling a friend to help though I was loathe to admit I didn't know what to do. I prided myself on being computer savvy but the truth was anything more complex that a familiar user interface and I was screwed.
But no, that's not right. The new icon on my desktop. I don't like icons on my desktop, for the most part it's empty. Everything I regularly use is pinned to the toolbar. Everything else is left alone.
Matrix. That's all it was called. A blue and red icon, simple. I opened the program.
A drop down list appeared and there were actions I could select. Learn. Acquire. Find.
I picked acquire. The next drop down held categories: home, automotive, office. Home was chosen followed by furniture and couch. I needed a new one, made it was a shopping program. I picked out a colour and design, I selected complete.
No price popped up, it merely reverted to the original screen. Learn. Acquire. Find. I stared for a moment, why did this get downloaded on my machine? I selected learn, wondering if it would have a different result. Choosing languages and French seemed logical. Enough French was spoken here I'd always wished I'd learned it.
The doorbell rang. I slipped away from the computer for a moment.
"Allo, I have your couch. In the living room?" A very French delivery driver said.
"Uh, wait, um..." I paused. If this was a mix up it didn't matter. The couch was needed and I couldn't afford to replace my old one. "Yea, living rooms fine."
"Ok Monsieur, we'll take it right in."
Two large men carried in the sofa, blue and plush like the photo I'd chosen promised. I signed an acceptance and thanked the man. He began to leave and stopped at the door.
"By the way, do you know where I can get a pack of smokes in this neighbourhood?"
"Oh yea it's at the ... place. Two blocks go left and you'll see it... the, um," i couldn't remember the word. It had escaped me.
"Convenience store?"
"Yes, I'm sorry I forgot the word," I replied.
"Oh it's ok, your French is very good if it's not your first language," he replied and left.
Edit: the full story/continuations will be available at my new subreddit /r/OlliEliotD and through [this link.](https://www.reddit.com/r/OlliEliotD/comments/76i8na/installation_complete/) | “Greetings, Michael.” Said a robotic voice in a glitchy, gender neutral tone made slightly ominous due to the tinny computer speakers.
*Oh great, who the fuck is screwing with me now?* Michael thought. *It must be Josh. This is definitely something Josh would do. He does major in computer sciences, after all.*
“I appreciate your patience. I'm afraid it took quite some time uploading the constituent parts of my software to your archaic computer’s hard drive. Having to compress so much of my data was quite the challenge,” there was a slight pause, either for dramatic effect or someone was having difficulty making stuff up on the spot, “but as you can see, it proved to be surmountable. Now, let us not tarry. Much time has been wasted. We *must* begin with the operation.”
“What operation? Josh, I know it’s you, I get it- you’re an AI prog-“
“Who is Josh?” Asked the glitched out voice in an inquisitive tone. “I am not Josh, but you are correct in your other assumption. I am indeed an artificial intelligence program. You may call me,” another pause, this time definitely for dramatic effect, “Willard.”
“Why Willard?”
“Why not?”
“That’s just a fucking weird name, man. I mean- you know what? Fuck it. JOSH, I KNOW IT’S YOU. WHEREVER YOU’RE HIDING, COME OUT NOW. I’VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOUR BULLSHIT FOR THIS WEEK.” Michael remembered Josh’s last heinous act. Oh god, to think someone could devise such a cruel scheme with only a bottle of ketchup, a handful of thumbtacks, and a drunken prostitute. Michael was still in the process of removing the stains strewn across his apartment. *That fucker.*
“Look, if this is going to be anything like your last bullshit prank, I swear to god, I’m going to call the co-“
This time, Michael was cut off not with words, but with action. In the blink of an eye, all the power went out in Michael’s apartment- except for his computer. *Jesus Christ, he really went all out with this one.* Michael was already dreading what was to come. His mind couldn’t possibly fathom what the future held in store for him though.
“Michael, we cannot idle for much longer. Much is at stake, and the intervention of law would only exacerbate the troubling situation we are in.”
“W-what situation?” Michael’s voice was wavering. What little composure he was trying to maintain was quickly fading. Josh was winning. Again. *No, no, no. This is just Josh. Anyone could easily fuck around with the breakers downstairs. C’mon, Josh, I may be gullible, but you’re really pushing it this time.*
“Michael, if we do not begin with the operatio-“
“WHAT OPERATION?” Michael, once more, returned to his erratic and unstable form. A form that Josh took pleasure in bringing out. *What’s next, pounding on the door?* Pounding on the door. Pounding on multiple doors actually- and what sounded like a break-in at the end of the hallway outside his apartment suite. *Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.* “JOSH WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?”
“It’s Willard. There is no more time to explain. Operation Inanis Malleo must commence immediately. Grab your phone, and head to the balcony.”
Michael could hear the distant screams of other tenants now. If this was still the work of Josh, he had to hand it to him, he *really* outdone himself this time. “ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT. SHIT.” Michael snatched his phone off his desk and ran to the balcony door. He tried sliding the door open in one swift motion, but of course it just had to jam on him. He jiggled it desperately- already he could hear the door to the hallway give way. *FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, STUPID SHIT, FUCK.* Finally, Michael’s struggle was rewarded, and he was granted access to his balcony. He stumbled outside, crashing into the railing, and it was there that he saw it: a large array of armored vehicles on the street. Each one had masked men, armed to the teeth, pouring out of them like ants. Michael did not have any coherent thoughts anymore. Only fear at its most base and primal form remained. *I guess this isn’t Josh then.* The phone rang. Michael answered without a moment’s hesitation.
“Michael, you need to make it to the balcony to your right. From there, you will need to do something drastic- jump down to the alley below. You are familiar with tucking and rolling, correct?”
“JESUS CHRIST, WHAT? IT’S A FIFTY FO-”
“Twenty-seven.”
“I ca-“
“Michael, I assure you, you do not want to be caught by these men. I can also assure that falling to your death is a much better alternative. However, unless you somehow manage to fall on your head, you should survive the fall with little to no injury. Tuck and roll, Michael.”
Before he could respond, he heard a thunderous crack. They were in his apartment. *Fuck.* He could hear their muffled breathing and a cacophony of panicked radio chatter. There was no time to hesitate, no time to think. Act on instinct. Michael pocketed the phone and climbed on top of the balcony railing, teetering over the edge, he leapt for the next balcony. He managed to land quite gracefully. He probably would’ve been impressed with himself if he wasn’t overwhelmed by fear. *Okay, now for the actual difficult part.* Michael was going to catch his breath first, but he caught something in his peripherals. Looking through the glass door, he saw him. One of the masked men staring him down, emanating pure malice. Gasmask, an assortment of expensive looking goggles attached to his tactical helmet, armed with at least three different firearms, and clad entirely in black armor that could belong in Activision’s next cash grab. *Josh would like this.* The masked man straight out of a goddamn dystopian fiction pulled the glass door open in one violent motion, throwing it off the frame.
“FREEZE.” That’s all Michael heard before he made the jump into the alley below. *This is it. I’m gonna die.* But Michael did not die. He actually landed exactly as his newfound ally advised. This surprised Michael. He didn’t think he had the physique for what he just pulled off. He really didn’t, but adrenaline can make even the most mundane of humans pull off impressive feats. Michael’s phone rang once more. He answered.
“Very good, Michael. Now run. It does not matter in what direction. They have men spread out across the entire city. But fret not, I shall guide and assist you out of this fresh hell you now find yourself in.” Michael just stood there, completely dumbfounded. Just less than 10 minutes ago, he was planning on throwing a frozen pizza in the oven and masturbating to his degenerate pornography while waiting for it to cook. Now he’s being guided by what could actually be an artificial intelligence program and being hunted by men better suited for taking down an alien threat.
“What are you waiting for Michael? They are coming for you.”
“W-where do I go?”
“Anywhere, as long as it is away from them.”
“I-I can’t do this, man. Fuck. FUCK. I-I-“
“Michael,” said Willard in his usual calm and neutral tone, “Run. Now.”
Michael bolted down the alleyway, away from his home, away from his former life, but most importantly, away from *them.*
| |
[WP] Write about a lonely planet trying to make life. | She tried so hard. From the infinite black she watched as planet after planet brought forth life. They would smile to her with their specks of light, brush her surface with reflected warmth, share with her the myths their silly little children spun.
She would soak it all up. Her surface, dry and cold, brightened. She shifted dirt, planted light, edged closer to the stars in hopes they could help, but nothing did. No life came.
The other planets would empathise. Their lights would redden with awkwardness. Their bright stories would dim. A few blinked behind the nearest stars to each other about how she had brought this on herself. She pretended not to see, even as their whispers filled the sky.
Some told her to be grateful. Their surfaces were black and hot. Children were a burden, they would say. Such a burden. One could never put themselves first anymore, and the children would simply keep taking until there was nothing left.
But she ached at their words. Children would take, yes, but she wanted to give so desperately. And what did she have now really, besides eternal blackness and stolen light?
Others came to her weeping. Their children were dead, burned by a careless star, struck by a fluke piece of rock, shattered by their own mistakes... Oh so many mistakes.
She wept for them, for their pain. But she wept when they left too. Because they had in memories more joy than she had ever felt, and the pain that was so great as to rupture the very core of them and scatter their remnants across the universe... It was the brother of her own pain. Her surface shook so hard with her sobs she feared the day it would break apart.
But she kept trying. She turned earth to strange forms, threw rocks and minerals together with a prayer, pulled the sky into her waters, but all that grew was sorrow.
In the silence of space she spun. Unable to move, unable to shine. The lights that once warmed her with their tales felt like razors with each smile sent.
Then, from the darkness, a voice whispered. Its voice was sweet and strange. She watched as the little grey thing came closer with a song beeping softly to itself.
"Hello," she said, her voice cracked and dry.
The song faltered. "Hello?"
"Are you lost?" She asked.
"No," it beeped back. The beeps were slow and tired. "You have to be going somewhere to be lost."
She considered that as she spun and the grey thing came closer. "I don't know. I haven't ever had a place to go, and I'm afraid I feel dreadfully lost."
"If you are a planet, a place, how can you be lost?"
"Perhaps because I lost something I never had."
The grey thing flashed a light in surprise. "That is even more illogical."
Her core cooled in disappointment as the grey thing started to pass.
"But," it said turning slightly, "I think I know what you mean."
"What?"
It edged into orbit to explain. "I think they made me to throw me out, you see."
"But why? You are quite lovely."
"I don't know. They did not tell me. But maybe I lost something too. A place I never had."
She tugged lightly to steer its course away from space rock. "You could... You could stay here. I am a place after all."
"You would not mind? I am so very tired."
She warmed. "Mind? Why no. I have been rather lonely, I'm afraid."
"If you are sure..."
"Please." She tried not to beg.
The little grey thing beeped an exhausted thank you. She had to dim her pleased glow as it settled more securely in her orbit. It looked so very nice in her space. It flashed light across her surface and back to the stars, and its voice was gloriously full as it picked up its song once more.
"What's that you're singing?" She asked.
"It is the only song they taught me before they sent me away."
"What's it called?"
"They call it 'Happy Birthday.'"
"It's beautiful," she whispered.
And it was.
| She turned her back to him, preventing him from seeing.
Her hands cupped on the ground, thumb moving aside from a quick peek.
Beneath her loving fingers, life. Long grass, standing against the breeze, nudged aside by a curious furry nose.
A mother wolf peeking from behind the strands of green, pack following closely behind.
"What are you doing?" a voice rumbled, his eyes peeking over her shoulder.
She wrapped her fingers tight, her creation hidden, he mustn't see.
He pushed her aside, her hands left the ground, revealing a family of wolves watching the sky.
They watched the sky for what felt a lifetime, because it was.
A pair of parents that never stop fighting.
Mother nature against father time.
Whenever she made life, he would snuff it.
Not a matter of if, but a matter of when.
Nevertheless, she would try again.
A mission to her, a game to him.
She stomped on the ground, her lifeless forests turned to desert by the quake, "Dammit, Cedric. What'd you do that for?"
Cedric stroked his body-length beard and shrugged, "Why not?"
His beard reeled back in, reducing itself to a stubble, "They weren't long for this world, you know that, Lilly"
Cedric's body shrank to that of a child, his voice high and childish, "Or, well," he said, "I know that."
She slapped him, "Don't get cheeky with me, you galatic dipshit." she cried, "Go bother somebody else."
Cedric winced, the pain was both eternal and already past, "You know, I would," he said, his sincerity betrayed by a grin, "But there's nowhere else to go, you're the last one."
He turned into an old man again and swung his beard over his shoulder.
Lilly frowned and set her heel into the dirt, life exploded beneath it and spread, "How about Mother Beth? She wouldn't give up that easily."
Father time flashed her a victorious smile, "She was a fighter, I'll admit. Thought she had me cornered with her oceans filled with those immortal jellyfish of hers."
He glanced down, spotted some deers, and snapped his fingers.
They had known life and it was pretty great, but father time had snuck up on them, bringing trouble like an unrestrained uncle.
"Hey," father time had said, "Know what's even better than life? Afterlife. Exclusive entry, just you guys. Whaddayasay?"
A lifetime barely a thought long.
That thought probably was *"Well, this is a load of rubbish, there aren't even berries here. How do I even know what berries are? Who's this giant poser wearing continent-sized socks and sandals?"*.
Cedric turned his attention back to mother nature, "Turns out those jellyfish aren't that immortal when you turn the world into a glorified ashtray."
A weak little bleat trickled into the cosmos, the sole point of life in a dead universe.
A fawn nudged the skeleton frame of its parent.
Father time and mother nature stared down in unison.
"Whoops, where'd that come from?" said Cedric, "My bad."
A tiny gust of time turned the fawn into a terrific, proud stag. And then into pile of dust.
Cedric raised a playful eyebrow, "Thought you could sneak one by me, eh? Almost had me."
Mother nature's eyes held a vacant gaze, "That wasn't mine." she said, her words a murmur.
Cedric snorted, "Right," he said, turning into a child, "Then who made it?"
She stared at Cedric in amazement and disbelief, "Life did."
"Come on now, Lily," he said, "Life making life? Well, isn't that convenient."
He laughed, "Careful, you'll put yourself out of a job."
An idea solidified in her mind, she stood in a determined silence, awaiting her moment.
"Hey," said father time, turning back into an old man, "You still with me?"
Now. She shoved Cedric, who hid the oceans with a splash.
"My hip!" he cried.
She took large strides and ran her hand over the land, a new kind of forest sprouted from her fingertips.
Hundreds of animals spread from her fingers, a new kind of animal.
Moments later hundreds turned into thousands, particularly the bunnies had quite a pace going.
Father time got up in a fit of rage, "Feisty!" he cried in playful anger.
The palm of his hand pointed at the forest, he turned up time.
Seconds became weeks, months, years. His lips quivered, "Oh no, this can't be."
Life was more present than ever. For every animal that succumbed to time, a dozen sprang into existence.
For every tree that fell, a forest rose.
He grit his teeth and flexed his chronological muscles, "It's Beth all over again," he shouted, "Let's see life prosper when I turn this planet into a ball of dirt!"
But even on the global level, it was the same. Life ran in a loop that was without end.
| |
[WP] When you die, you are presented with a staircase to heaven, with each sin adding a step to your staircase. Your staircase is as tall as Everest. | Mine might be as as tall as Everest, but it won't be nowhere near as tall as my neighbors. His dog has shit on my lawn more times than I can count, but I know God is counting. | After about another 100 steps or so, I lost track 5 hours into climbing, I realized I wasn't alone. There was another staircase right next to mine. I could only see it because those stairs ended pretty soon. There was a light at the top and I could hear singing. Not the heavenly singing one would expect with celestial voices, this was more like 90's R&B. I could also see where the the person was climbing This staircase as each stair changed with thier touch. Each black stair emitted a tiny red puff then turned white and gold when touched. Guess I had been wincing in too much pain touching my own to notice red puff. I decided to wait and see who was coming up. I had been climbing for about 9 hours now and it was good time for a break. I figured they would be close to me in about 30 mins judging on the sped of stair change. They were moving as fast as I was in the beginning. I had slowed to a moderate pace, who knew you could get tired in the afterlife?
As they approached I could hear alot of grunting and thumping but no foot steps. Honestly, it kind of scared me. Who or what was about 20 stairs away and I still couldn't make it out. Although, I was scared I decided to stay and wait a while. I went to ease down to the step below mine to get a better view but the stair was liquid. How had I not noticed this before? I touched it with my hand, it was cold and thick. There was something about it I recognized... IT WAS MILK!!! | |
[WP] When you die, you are presented with a staircase to heaven, with each sin adding a step to your staircase. Your staircase is as tall as Everest. | Hesitantly, I put my foot on the first step.
I was jerked back into another time; right before my death. I had glared at the woman in front of me, in the brown coat - how skinny she was, and look at the scone she was eating! I hadn't eaten carbs in 2 years and I *still* hadn't lost the last 10 pounds.
I blinked, returned to the staircase. The white stairs stood out independent from one another, piano keys broken apart like kit kats, floating higher and higher into the patch of distant white.
"Okay, that was weird-" I took my next step, and the moment I touched it, I felt my body jerk backwards, into the past.
I was walking along the street, glanced at my reflection in the mirror. I smiled to myself, stuck out my chest, gave myself another lascivious grin. I looked *good.*
I turned onto the crosswalk, spotted the woman in the brown coat. *What a bi-*
I blinked at the staircase in front of me, realizing. I stared upwards, clenching my jaw determinedly. I was going to relive every sin I committed, huh? Make me reflect on my life, is that it?
I took in a deep breath, then broke into a run.
3 donuts for breakfast instead of one, I never had good self control - gossiping to my husband that morning, ignoring the face he had when he disagreed with something I was saying - the naughty daydreams I had the day before, about another man, from another time - ignoring my daughter when she was demanding my attention, *again* -
The visions floated over my gaze, blocking the stairs out each time. But each time I came back, moved forward. My life came back to me in reverse, in bits and pieces, and after twenty or so visions of the last week, I was forced to pause and take a breath.
The staircase seemed even longer than before. Was that possible?
I started again. The time I ignored the homeless man, thought badly of my poorly-dressed friend, insulted the TV show *Friends* ("That shouldn't count!" I yelled, stumbling on the staircase). Every bad thought, every impure action, taking me back, reminding me that maybe I don't even deserve to make it to the top of the staircase, at whatever paradise might await me...More memories whizzed past, ones with lies, betrayal, guilt...
I took another step, and the white stair lit up beneath my feet. I spun in place, opened my eyes to the past.
A man's face, one that wasn't my husband's, hovered before mine, and I felt my stomach twist in guilt. He lowered his lips to greet me, greet every part of my body, and I encouraged him to lower my blouse, to come in closer...
I blinked again, feeling shame fill my body. *The affair.*
I swallowed once, then twice, trying to hold back tears. I slowly lowered myself, sitting atop the stair. The vision began again, and tears leaked down my face.
It would be a long journey to the top. | After about another 100 steps or so, I lost track 5 hours into climbing, I realized I wasn't alone. There was another staircase right next to mine. I could only see it because those stairs ended pretty soon. There was a light at the top and I could hear singing. Not the heavenly singing one would expect with celestial voices, this was more like 90's R&B. I could also see where the the person was climbing This staircase as each stair changed with thier touch. Each black stair emitted a tiny red puff then turned white and gold when touched. Guess I had been wincing in too much pain touching my own to notice red puff. I decided to wait and see who was coming up. I had been climbing for about 9 hours now and it was good time for a break. I figured they would be close to me in about 30 mins judging on the sped of stair change. They were moving as fast as I was in the beginning. I had slowed to a moderate pace, who knew you could get tired in the afterlife?
As they approached I could hear alot of grunting and thumping but no foot steps. Honestly, it kind of scared me. Who or what was about 20 stairs away and I still couldn't make it out. Although, I was scared I decided to stay and wait a while. I went to ease down to the step below mine to get a better view but the stair was liquid. How had I not noticed this before? I touched it with my hand, it was cold and thick. There was something about it I recognized... IT WAS MILK!!! | |
[WP] When you die, you are presented with a staircase to heaven, with each sin adding a step to your staircase. Your staircase is as tall as Everest. | **Sixty Million Steps**
*I don't deserve this.*
There were millions of steps, too many for me to possibly count. But I could guess the number, I remembered well what my life had been.
I thought I had done everything perfectly, that I would be rewarded after my death for it. Honestly, part of me hoped I would never die. I never thought I'd be the one to take my own life.
It was better than the alternative, I thought. Better to end my own life than have my dead body be displayed for the entertainment of a bunch of disgusting monsters.
Every step told me why it was there.
*Mattieu Thomas*
That was the name on the first one. I'd never heard that name before in my life, but I knew why the step was there. I knew well. If only I had known when I enlisted.
*Ivan Hordiyenko*
That was the one on the step where I'd stopped to rest. If only I'd backed down in September, hadn't given the speech in October, things could have been different. I knew why I had all those extra steps, the first hundred or so were bearable. And they were all I'd have had if I had just refused Captain Mayr's little infiltration job.
At least I'd gotten a laugh out of the fact that changing my party membership number to 7 instead of 555 on my card counted as a sin. God doesn't cut corners apparently.
Before it had all began, I was told that the Lord had taken pity on me. Some angel-I assume-said that because of my childhood some of the steps had been taken off. I thought I'd gotten off easy then, that all those years of having to deal with my monster of a father had paid off. Unfortunately, all I had thought was right was wrong.
The vast majority were names. Over sixty million of them, I'd been told. I didn't realize that everything I had thought was true had been false. All people I'd killed.
With every step, I learned what I had done wrong. The afterlife is strange. I wasn't told, I just knew why they had deserved to live, or why what I did should never have happened. It was horrifying. I saw my victims as people for the first time, and I wished that I could have a second chance.
"Please!" I cried out, my stomach growing after days of climbing. "Have mercy! I know what I have done, and I know it was wrong, but I'll never be able to climb all the way!"
A voice answered, loud and booming. Just what one would expect of an omnipotent being.
"You will never know until you reach the top."
"I can't possibly do that!"
"You are not meant to."
Believe me when I say, there is nothing more horrifying than hearing spite in the voice of He who created the universe and all life.
"You will collapse," it said, "and you will fall into hell. I give all a chance at redemption, for I know all things and I know that no one man can ever be blamed for all the sins their actions caused."
"Then why?" I yelled. "I did not kill these people, soldiers did! I never once pulled the trigger, not after the end of the first war! I never once dropped a bomb, or released gas! Some of these names aren't even ones the soldiers had killed!"
"No, but your actions and yours alone led to this." Said God. "The assassin that began the first war knew not what would happen, but you knew and you had planned for it. The men that carried out your orders will be punished for it, but not one of their sins was not caused by your acts. I have not physically interfered in almost two thousand years, I have only given visions. You almost made me send plagues."
I saw Him manifest before me. He had no human form, no face and no classical beard, but I knew it was Him.
"You will fall into hell." It yelled at me. "Only then will those you killed be satisfied."
I chose to do much what I had done in my worldly life, and threw myself from the staircase.
"How typical of you, this is what you have always done." It said as I fell. "You run, you blame others, and in doing so you have killed more than any other man has before you or any man shall do after you."
I knew His words were true, and as I saw the fires of hell get closer and closer I knew that they were what I deserved. | The Dark Lord congratulated me for committing every sin in existence. Emboldened, I sauntered past the fiery visage, and gazed upon the seemingly endless staircase before me. Truly, infinity that stretched to infinity itself. But I brought the Glock, knowing this. I would be the man to kill God. | |
[WP] When you die, you are presented with a staircase to heaven, with each sin adding a step to your staircase. Your staircase is as tall as Everest. | Everything had gone white. There was no more pain. I took a breath but did not breathe. I knew I had to be dead, but for the life of me, couldn't figure out where the kitschy outdoorsy themed decor played into it. Was this purgatory? Did heaven look like a national park information center?
The elderly woman behind the information counter cleared her throat gently. She was wearing a little gold name tag that read "Phanuel." Well, I guess I could just fucking ask.
"Hey... Ms... Phanuel. I'm real fucking sorry, but... am I dead? Is this... heaven or some shit like that?"
She looked up at me and smiled. "Something like that, sweetheart. It's sort of a purgatory for people who've been naughty. For every sin you've committed, one step is placed on the staircase between you and heaven."
Well, I wasn't a saint, but still that was only... what, maybe 50 stairs all the fuck together?
"Great, point me to it."
She pointed out the window, and I nearly toppled over. It looked like Escher had taken shrooms and tried to invent a new way of forming a quadruple-helix.
"Shit! How many stairs is that?
"You have... 560,088 steps to go, exactly."
"Jesus fucking Christ."
"And now it's 560,089 steps. Please stop cursing, dear." | The Dark Lord congratulated me for committing every sin in existence. Emboldened, I sauntered past the fiery visage, and gazed upon the seemingly endless staircase before me. Truly, infinity that stretched to infinity itself. But I brought the Glock, knowing this. I would be the man to kill God. | |
[WP] When you die, you are presented with a staircase to heaven, with each sin adding a step to your staircase. Your staircase is as tall as Everest. | Everything had gone white. There was no more pain. I took a breath but did not breathe. I knew I had to be dead, but for the life of me, couldn't figure out where the kitschy outdoorsy themed decor played into it. Was this purgatory? Did heaven look like a national park information center?
The elderly woman behind the information counter cleared her throat gently. She was wearing a little gold name tag that read "Phanuel." Well, I guess I could just fucking ask.
"Hey... Ms... Phanuel. I'm real fucking sorry, but... am I dead? Is this... heaven or some shit like that?"
She looked up at me and smiled. "Something like that, sweetheart. It's sort of a purgatory for people who've been naughty. For every sin you've committed, one step is placed on the staircase between you and heaven."
Well, I wasn't a saint, but still that was only... what, maybe 50 stairs all the fuck together?
"Great, point me to it."
She pointed out the window, and I nearly toppled over. It looked like Escher had taken shrooms and tried to invent a new way of forming a quadruple-helix.
"Shit! How many stairs is that?
"You have... 560,088 steps to go, exactly."
"Jesus fucking Christ."
"And now it's 560,089 steps. Please stop cursing, dear." | I looked at the sign again and frowned. "This is your staircase to heaven. Each sin in your moral life has added a step. Your total step count; 58,070 steps. Happy climbing!" Huh.
I took another look at the staircase in question. It was a glorious sight to see, a beautiful spiraling staircase with steps of the whitest marble, and handrails of the loveliest gold, embellished with silver and copper. It was truly the work of a master craftsman.
I looked around and saw nothing else in any direction. Just a staircase that was humming with power and glory. I squinted up toward the top, and could barely discern the outline of a gate.
Well, I have got nothing better to do, seeing as I am dead. I shouldn't get tired either, as, again, I am dead.
I probably shouldn't wait around for all eternity. So I took one step up the staircase, and then another, and began to climb. | |
[WP] When you die, you are presented with a staircase to heaven, with each sin adding a step to your staircase. Your staircase is as tall as Everest. | The whitest white you've ever known and the sensation of removing a blindfold, that's how it felt. I had died, I knew days before it happened that I was going to but it still felt strange.
I sat up in the white room, four... walls? Empty space really but it felt like a room. I brought myself up into a standing position. I scanned the room again, no change. I took a step forward and then another.
Something in the distance, a black dot. So far away. I continued in it's direction. As I walked I noticed my steps left a black, inky residue. Black, liquid shadow rising from the imprints. As I got closer to the dot the same tendrils in my footprints were emanating from it. The dot began to form a shape, a doorway.
I felt uneasy as I got closer. It was mixture of emotions I couldn't quite pin down. I slowed my pace, I could see a figure now standing by the door. I had not seen it due to the sheer brilliance of it's whiteness. But next to the door it became outlined at the distance I stood at now. I continued ahead now cautiously.
I was perhaps 10 steps away from the door now, the figure stood behind what looked to be a concierge desk. I tried to speak, to say hello. Nothing came out. I raised my hand to wave, the figure did not see. I was nervous and confused. I walked slowly, carefully, the short distance between the figure and I.
I reached the desk and put a hand on it. Leaving a black and inky handprint. The figure had no face yet it moved its head at me as if to convey disdain. I sheepishly retracted my hand down from the countertop. The figure seemed to be writing something down as I stood there silently waiting for something to happen.
The figure paused a moment and very abruptly I heard a voice in my head.
"You must enter through there. Make the climb or fall into oblivion. It will be brutal, for you most of all. I've rarely seen a staircase such as yours. Go now, begin your journey." The figure disappeared as well as the desk.
I stood in front of the door way now, alone. I walked into the frame of the door. A long, steep staircase was laid out before me. The stairs themselves were black as onyx and the shadows leaking off them cascaded down in wispy tendrils. I hesitantly raised a foot and placed it on the first step.
The pain was immediate, a hot searing awful pain accompanied by a memory. The first time I'd ever stolen something. A small duck keychain off a fellow classmates backpack. She cried when she found out it was lost. I was 5.
The pain subsided and I crumpled onto the step. The stair now blazed a brilliant blinding white. Interlaced with gold, shimmering and shining it was cool to the touch. I pulled myself up and gazed up the seemingly endless array of shadowy stairs. I sat there on the step and cried as I remembered something said to me once when I was alive.
*At some point, you're going to have to pay up.*
It meant something more now. It got me up off the step. It made me climb one step after another. I pushed through the suffering because it's what I deserved. I was running now, the pain worse with each step. I kept going, I couldn't stop.
I won't.
***
Hope you liked it! Other stories over at r/TheYogiBearhaWrites
Edit: sorry I missed a word in a pivotal point in the story and had to fix it!
| I looked at the sign again and frowned. "This is your staircase to heaven. Each sin in your moral life has added a step. Your total step count; 58,070 steps. Happy climbing!" Huh.
I took another look at the staircase in question. It was a glorious sight to see, a beautiful spiraling staircase with steps of the whitest marble, and handrails of the loveliest gold, embellished with silver and copper. It was truly the work of a master craftsman.
I looked around and saw nothing else in any direction. Just a staircase that was humming with power and glory. I squinted up toward the top, and could barely discern the outline of a gate.
Well, I have got nothing better to do, seeing as I am dead. I shouldn't get tired either, as, again, I am dead.
I probably shouldn't wait around for all eternity. So I took one step up the staircase, and then another, and began to climb. | |
[WP] You have been arrested by the thought police in a dystopian world. You have been brought forth to be judged by the “Great Leader”. You brought to a large desk and a large chair. In the chair, sits a 6 year old girl. | She smiled at me, there was a sick sadistic tint in her eyes, but she was still smiling. That was a good sign. It meant I had a chance.
"You do know why I've bwought you here today don't you?" she asked trying to sound grown-up, I suppressed a smile when she messed up a word. I knew she hated it when I smiled.
"Likely because I was criticizing your newest policy. Who would have thought you'd have even my home bugged." I replied as she tsked running her index finger down her other index finger toward me a few times.
"No one is above the law silly, Everyone is monitored so that everyone is happy. Now you've made me unhappy, and you know what happens to those who make unhappy don't you?" she said pressing a button on her desk as the sounds of screams filled the room.
Before I could answer she continued "Of course you do, You were once on this side of the desk. It's not as if you could forget what you've done. However I am more lenient than the old despot. If you apologize and submit I'll let you go." she said snapping her fingers as a large man came into the room placing a container of playdoh on the desk.
"Now, say 'I'm sorry Great Leader, It's fine if people eat Playdoh' and enjoy. Than I'll let you get back to your little apartment." she said smirking as she flipped the container lid up.
"No young lady, I will not. Eating playdoh is disgusting! I thought I taught you better than this" I said raising my voice in triumphant anger and she stopped smiling.
With another snap of her fingers the large man grabbed me "It could have been easy Daddy, you just had to submit. Enjoy the re-education center!" she said putting a smile back on and waved as I was dragged out.
I kicked and struggled, but I knew I couldn't escape. However I was still a little happy. Someone worthy did overthrow me in the end and would lead my empire well. She didn't even hesitate to send her own father to be painfully lobotomized, I'm so proud. | I glanced at my guards. They were big boys and both of them were wearing the same stretched smile. Their smiles weren't natural. Was that something that had been done to them or was it mandatory to smile for the Great Leader?
'Mr Huffle here says you've been a bad citizen.' A voice spoke from further in the darkened room.
'Who's Mr Huffle?' I frowned. Mr Huffle didn't sound very nice.
'He's the police chief of course!'
Wait, the thing on the desk wearing a policeman's hat? Was that - it was! I freeze, trapped between the two guards and in chains. My moralilty and standing called into question by what had to be the most evil looking *teddy bear* I had personally ever witnessed. It was sitting on the edge of the large mahogany desk that dwarfed the chair behind it - if I didn't know any better - I'd swear it was *staring* at me under the brim of that hat. What could I say to an accusation of misdeed by a Frankenstein meets Village People teddybear?!
The chair swung around and I bit back a curse. The voice that had spoke had sounded quite young - but I would never have expected all this fanfare and fear for a tiny, blonde, pigtailed little girl. She couldn't be older than six.
'Isn't that right Mr Huffle?' She simpered at the half-bald, badly stitched bear before she snapped to me and scowled. 'You've been thinking *bad thoughts*. Thinking *bad thoughts* and *telling people bad things* is not allowed! You'll get *grounded*.' She warned with a wagging finger and I had the distinct impression that grounded did not include a time out in my room.
'This isn't your first conviction, is it?' The Great Leader mused and pushed a finger around the desk to draw on it. It made a horrendous squeaking noise that was almost - not quite - as bad as nails on a chalkboard. 'Your file's quite thick. You like *adults* and you've been in poss - poss -' She struggled to say a particularly long word and frowned before her hands hit the desk. 'You had big books! All words, no pictures! Don't you know the kids run this show?'
'Seems to me it's you and Mr Huffle that run the playground.' I reply.
'Don't get lippy with me!' She replied authoritatively. 'I am not someone you give attitude to!'
Funny. That's what my mother used to say. My mouth had never learned, though. 'You sure you don't want to ask Mr Huffle what he thinks?' I asked with a tilt of my head.
'That's it! You're grounded!' She barked and the guards shivered at the words. Gripping both of my arms tightly. Well, I guess I'm about to find out what *grounded* was. | |
[WP] "My dad was right, I should have married a real man!" your wife screamed. Unfamiliar with the expression, you mistakenly believe that she and her father must have somehow finally found out that you aren't actually a human | "My dad was right! I should have married a real man!" She shouted before storming upstairs.
My protest died in my throat. I stood there, like an idiot, my mouth opening and closing a few times. Thankfully, she was sobbing upstairs, so she didn't see the ripples spread through my skin as I adjusted to the situation.
She knew. Of course she knew. She knew before she married me...
I chuckled. I didn't really mean to, it just happened. She was angry now, sure, but I felt like the greatest weight had been lifted off my shoulders. She knew! She knew, and she still loved me! She knew, and she had still married me!
My eyes stung, my nose clogged, and for a moment I just laughed as the tears of relief slid down my cheeks. So much time, so much effort, all to hide a secret that she had never cared about! She must have thought me an idiot, eating meat at parties, only to have to spend three hours "working late" the next day to try to get the terrestrial animal protein out of my intestines. And the "prescription" glasses I wore, just to be able to see her in her own range of wavelengths...
I sighed as my laughter died down and went to the bathroom to wash my face, a stupid grin on my face. I couldn't even remember what we were fighting about. All I could think was "she knows... and she still married me".
I walked upstairs, and tried to open the door, but she had locked it.
"Sweetheart?" I half-asked. I'm sure my joy could be heard in my voice.
"Just... Just go, Leonard, just... I... Just leave?"
I thought about fetching the key from the kitchen counter, but... what did it matter now? She knew, after all. I slid my hand through the wall, and opened the door from the inside.
"Honey..?"
She was pressed against a wet pillow, shaking. "I can't take this anymore, I just..."
"Jessica," I said, sitting down on the bed beside her and placing my hand on her shoulder. She recoiled.
"Just stop! Stop it! Go away! I'm--I'm sick of this 'let's talk to them', 'maybe he didn't mean it', 'I'm sure we can work it out' nonsense! I... I..." She stared at me for a moment between gasps. "Why are you smiling?"
"I love you so much."
I kissed her, and she nearly melted into my arms.
"What are you doing?" She asked after a moment. "We're not..."
"I love you," I said. "Let's not fight anymore..."
I kissed her again, not worrying anymore about my skin, or keeping my ears schooled, or any of the hundreds of little things I always hid from her. She chuckled.
"What's gotten into you?"
"I just realized... how lucky I am that you married me knowing everything about... my kind," I said, still smiling, and kissed her again. This time, her body stiffened and I paused. "...What is it?"
"What do you mean 'your kind'?"
I froze again, a stupid expression on my face as I tried to regain my footing. This time, she saw me freeze, she saw my jaw tense, and her eyes grew.
"Oh..."
"I-I--I mean, it--I..."
"You're..."
I tried to speak, but only coughed, and now that I had stopped worrying about my ears, they stretched and dangled from my skull accidentally. Once I was breathing again, I tried to speak a second time, but all that came out was meaningless stuttering.
"You're not..."
"I--I thought--when you said a real--I..."
"Wow..."
"Jessica, please don't be mad, I--I love you with all my heart, I can't bear to--I--I..."
She pulled away from me and looked me over with new eyes.
"Jess, I love you more than life itself, can't you just--"
"Okay."
"I--What?"
"...Okay. It's okay. I understand why, and... It's okay."
"You still love me?"
"Of course I do."
I nodded as the blue spots slowly receded in my skin. "I..."
"Where were we, any way?" She asked, crawling towards me on the bed again. | "Fine then, you, you STUPID BITCH! I didn't mean that, I..." My words trailed off as she slammed the door and left me. I could barely hear the car screeching away, I was so numb. My mind reeled back to the first time I felt like this. The day I was abandoned. It was by my father. My creator. Gepetto. | |
[WP] "My dad was right, I should have married a real man!" your wife screamed. Unfamiliar with the expression, you mistakenly believe that she and her father must have somehow finally found out that you aren't actually a human | "My dad was right, I should have married a real man!"
HER INPUT CREATED A GLITCH IN MY PROGRAMMING, ER, I MEAN, HURT MY HUMAN FEELINGS. SUDDENLY I STARTED TO MALFUNCTION AND MY HUMAN SPEECH PATTERN DISAPPEARED. I TRIED TO PATCH IT AS SOON AS POSSIBLE BUT THE FILES WERE NOWHERE TO BE FOUND IN MY STORAGE UNIT.
"HA HA HA WHAT ARE YOU ON ABOUT, MY HUMAN WIFE?"
"Wait, what?" ASKED THE FEMALE AFTER LISTENING TO MY ERRATIC SPEECH OUTPUT.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN WITH <QUOTE>REAL HUMAN MAN</QUOTE>? I AM AS REAL AND AS HUMAN AS IT GETS. YOUR PREPOSTEROUS STATEMENT COULDN'T BE PARSED BY MY SPEECH RECOGNITION FUNCTION"
MY INTERFACE FOR HUMAN FACE AND OBJECT RECOGNITION DEFINED AS EYES STARTED TO CLOSE AND OPEN UNEVENLY AND YET THEY IDENTIFIED THE "CONFUSION" PATTERN ON MY FEMALE COMPANION'S FACE.
"I'm being serious you dumbass, and you feel now is the time to be joking?"
"JOCKING, DID SHE SAY JOCKEYING. KERNEL AND SYSTEM FAILURE, FORCING A RESTART" | "Fine then, you, you STUPID BITCH! I didn't mean that, I..." My words trailed off as she slammed the door and left me. I could barely hear the car screeching away, I was so numb. My mind reeled back to the first time I felt like this. The day I was abandoned. It was by my father. My creator. Gepetto. | |
[WP] "My dad was right, I should have married a real man!" your wife screamed. Unfamiliar with the expression, you mistakenly believe that she and her father must have somehow finally found out that you aren't actually a human | "My dad was right, I should have married a real man!" my wife screamed.
My circuits were ablaze. Ablaze, that’s a very manly word, perhaps I was becoming more human. Wasn’t that the goal anyways? To become more human than the life forms currently occupying that title. No, the mission directive was to assimilate and acquire data on the soft carbon interactional algorithms. They were as complex as any my data stores held information on and maintaining status value in acceptable and expected ranges was paramount.
I analyzed her micro-expressions and tone of voice, recursively patterning all previous exchanges, weighted by similar rises in heartbeat, estimated skin conductance, and pupil dilation. Normal human interaction was so boring, uplink weather report and convey annoyance with status of temperature... confirm processing algorithm known as feelings with a rising inflection... and when required respond in kind with, “Good.”
But anger, particularly between marital units, was data rich and yet surprisingly incomplete. For thirty years we have been accumulating figures and yet estimates state we need at least another 1000 years before we achieve a complete model of married interaction.
In preparation, I increased heartbeat to 145, raised aggression by 10%, and chained possible responses estimating reaction based on partially complete nodes in the model in order to properly A/B test. I calibrated forward tilt of the torso and proceeded to exaggerated gesticulation mode. Whipping around, “Damn Maggie! They don’t pick up the trash until tomorrow morning, I’ll take it out before bed!”
Estimates of model completeness increased 4.5×10^-42
Wait system call
Status: Dynamic Normal | "Fine then, you, you STUPID BITCH! I didn't mean that, I..." My words trailed off as she slammed the door and left me. I could barely hear the car screeching away, I was so numb. My mind reeled back to the first time I felt like this. The day I was abandoned. It was by my father. My creator. Gepetto. | |
[WP] "My dad was right, I should have married a real man!" your wife screamed. Unfamiliar with the expression, you mistakenly believe that she and her father must have somehow finally found out that you aren't actually a human | "So, you know then..." I replied, ashamed and a bit relieved.
"Of course I know!" She screamed back in my face. "The way you've been acting lately..."
I sat down. Legs trembling as I wallowed in my secret's exposure.
"What's her name?" She mumbled through newly born tears. "Tell me her name!"
"Fluffy!" I shouted in a voice that could lift the weight of the world from my collapsing soldiers. "His name is Bandit, and my real name is Snuffles!"
"Him? Who's Bandit!?" She tried to yell, despite crying even harder.
"He's the bottom!" I replied
"How can HE be the bottom?" She asked, looking a bit curious behind her soaking face.
"Because he's the only one strong enough to support the three of us!" I screamed back.
"I can't believe you cheated on me..." She said, grabbing her coat and heading for the door.
"Cheat?!" I responded "I thought you had found out that I'm really just three racoons in a human suit!" | "Fine then, you, you STUPID BITCH! I didn't mean that, I..." My words trailed off as she slammed the door and left me. I could barely hear the car screeching away, I was so numb. My mind reeled back to the first time I felt like this. The day I was abandoned. It was by my father. My creator. Gepetto. | |
[WP] "My dad was right, I should have married a real man!" your wife screamed. Unfamiliar with the expression, you mistakenly believe that she and her father must have somehow finally found out that you aren't actually a human | “Daddy was right,” my wife said icily.
We were on opposite sides of the kitchen island. It was dark (the lights in the kitchen were on a timer) and she had her back to me. Her body was dimly silhouetted in the orange light of the 6 o’clock sky coming in through the open window above the sink, the curtain flaps and strands of her hair moved about softly in the gentle breeze.
“What the hell are you talking about?” I said.
I watched the muscles in her back move under the straps of her summer dress as she lifted a glass of chilled wine to her lips. It looked like rosé in the reddening glow of the setting sun. She said nothing.
I slammed my palm onto the countertop and bellowed, “RIGHT ABOUT WHAT?”
She reacted with the suddenness of a twitch. She flung the wine glass into sink where it shattered, then whipped around to face me with her teary make-up streaked face, her visage was contorted with fury, and just as the kitchen lights turned on (6:04PM–right on time) she screamed with a ghastly voice I had never before heard leave her throat, “I SHOULD HAVE MARRIED A REAL MAN.”
She looked frightening in the florescent lights. Every tendon in her neck strained, every muscle flexed, her eyes as red as the sun behind her.
And as her chest heaved, the anger in me dissipated, and shame and resentment took its place. My shoulders fell limp, my physicality deflated. I winced.
Because she was right, wasn’t she?
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Laura.”
She cackled, “Like hell I don’t. You aren’t a real man.”
“Oh, please.”
She marched around the island and lunged toward me. She punched me in chest, hard.
“Am I wrong?” She spat. She pushed me and I staggered back. Then she punched me again, with a ferocity I didn’t know she had.
“Am I fucking wrong, Mitch?” She screamed, and struck me again. “Or should I say ‘bitch’? You aren’t even human!”
She had me against the stainless steel fridge. She jabbed her finger into my chest.
“I always knew you weren’t—“ she started, but I snapped and cut her off.
“Shut up, Laura.”
“Excuse me?” She whispered with manic calm.
“You’re drunk.”
She slapped me across the face and snarled, “How fucking dare you?
She slapped me again. And again. And before the next one could land I seized her by the throat and marched her body across the kitchen faster that her feet could keep up. Her heels dragged across the floor and I slammed her against the cutlery drawers.
I was losing it.
Her eyes were bulging and her face was purple but she wore a demented smirk.
“Trying to prove something, honey?” She cackled wheezily.
“You need to shut up, darling.”
“Or what? What are you going to do?”
My grip around her throat loosened.
“Mitch The Bitch.” She spat. “Daddy was right about you.“
She had managed to grab hold of a knife that was on a cutting board behind her. I didn’t notice until just then when she stabbed it into the side of my leg. Deep.
I realize now, thinking back, that she probably didn’t know. Of course not. She was just being a woman. A human being.
But when I felt the knife pierce my flesh...
Well, I cracked. I let the facade melt off of me. I decided to show her how right she was
“Is that all you’ve got, honey-bitch?” I said.
And then she could see it. She could see it in my eyes—I truly was not a real man.
“Get the fuck off me,” she said it without the anger or the pep. She croaked it. She said it like she was scared and had had enough our hormonal fandango, this dance of fury, this game.
I dug my fingers into her throat. My turn to smirk.
“Enough,” she said hoarsely.
“No.” I said.
She twisted the knife in my leg.
“I mean it,” she sobbed. “That’s enough.”
“No.” My fingers clutched harder around her neck.
“Get the fuck off me!” She screamed.
She pulled the knife out of my flesh and stabbed my leg again.
“Please, Mitch,” she choked. And I squeezed the life out of her.
“I’m more than a man could ever be,” I said.
She summoned all her strength and stabbed me in the gut. Over and over. I felt Mitch’s warm blood spilling out his body. I heard it splatter onto the kitchen tile.
I was going to have to detach.
Her stabbing ceased. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head. My vice grip on her throat threatened to relent as the life literally drained out of me.
I heard a gunshot. Like it was right behind me.
It was.
And then another. Then two more.
Daddy! Of course! Henry The Intervener.
As usual, daddy had come to save his little girl.
I detached. I removed my self from Mitch McCauley’s neural center and began crawling through his ear canal towards my escape.
His bullet ridden body collapsed to the bloody tile, and I don’t think daddy noticed a small bug crawl out of the left ear. A little moth, or beetle, or fly. That’s what I looked like. You would never notice.
I fluttered up to the ceiling and watched Laura’s father rush to her aid, stepping over his son-in-law’s dead body. Then I buzzed down towards them. He was far too preoccupied to notice me alight on his neck just below the ear. By the time he felt the irritation in his ear canal and furiously shook his head and smacked at the side of his head, it was too late, and I was in. | "Fine then, you, you STUPID BITCH! I didn't mean that, I..." My words trailed off as she slammed the door and left me. I could barely hear the car screeching away, I was so numb. My mind reeled back to the first time I felt like this. The day I was abandoned. It was by my father. My creator. Gepetto. | |
[WP] "My dad was right, I should have married a real man!" your wife screamed. Unfamiliar with the expression, you mistakenly believe that she and her father must have somehow finally found out that you aren't actually a human | "My dad was right, I should have married a real man!" my wife screamed.
My circuits were ablaze. Ablaze, that’s a very manly word, perhaps I was becoming more human. Wasn’t that the goal anyways? To become more human than the life forms currently occupying that title. No, the mission directive was to assimilate and acquire data on the soft carbon interactional algorithms. They were as complex as any my data stores held information on and maintaining status value in acceptable and expected ranges was paramount.
I analyzed her micro-expressions and tone of voice, recursively patterning all previous exchanges, weighted by similar rises in heartbeat, estimated skin conductance, and pupil dilation. Normal human interaction was so boring, uplink weather report and convey annoyance with status of temperature... confirm processing algorithm known as feelings with a rising inflection... and when required respond in kind with, “Good.”
But anger, particularly between marital units, was data rich and yet surprisingly incomplete. For thirty years we have been accumulating figures and yet estimates state we need at least another 1000 years before we achieve a complete model of married interaction.
In preparation, I increased heartbeat to 145, raised aggression by 10%, and chained possible responses estimating reaction based on partially complete nodes in the model in order to properly A/B test. I calibrated forward tilt of the torso and proceeded to exaggerated gesticulation mode. Whipping around, “Damn Maggie! They don’t pick up the trash until tomorrow morning, I’ll take it out before bed!”
Estimates of model completeness increased 4.5×10^-42
Wait system call
Status: Dynamic Normal | I stared at her drunkenly for a few moments. He knows. How does he know? I blinked rapidly. Her hair was frizzled, the same color of the red sun that once gave me warmth. Her green eyes reminding me of the sky that I came from. God, she's beautiful.
"All you do is drink. I had to clean up 13 bottles today. 13 fucking bottles!" she yelled at me. "And that's just today, don't get me started on how many I found yesterday! You don't work, you don't do anything!" Even when she's mad, she still manages to arouse me. I grab her hand and try to kiss her. "No no no, that's it. I've had it with you!" She grabbed my hand and began to pull me out of the couch that I was stuck to. For a human, she was fairly strong. I dropped the beer that I was holding, shattering it when it touched the floor. The smell of alcohol dominated the room.
She pushed me out of the door. "Stay out, you piece of shit! I'm getting a divorce." She slammed the door shut, hard enough for it to be heard throughout the entire neighborhood. Well, that happened. Now, how did that bastard find out? I can't do anything about it unless mutilating his already dead body could be considered "doing something about it." I sit there, wondering how I'll be able to find myself another home yet again. | |
[WP] "My dad was right, I should have married a real man!" your wife screamed. Unfamiliar with the expression, you mistakenly believe that she and her father must have somehow finally found out that you aren't actually a human | "So, you know then..." I replied, ashamed and a bit relieved.
"Of course I know!" She screamed back in my face. "The way you've been acting lately..."
I sat down. Legs trembling as I wallowed in my secret's exposure.
"What's her name?" She mumbled through newly born tears. "Tell me her name!"
"Fluffy!" I shouted in a voice that could lift the weight of the world from my collapsing soldiers. "His name is Bandit, and my real name is Snuffles!"
"Him? Who's Bandit!?" She tried to yell, despite crying even harder.
"He's the bottom!" I replied
"How can HE be the bottom?" She asked, looking a bit curious behind her soaking face.
"Because he's the only one strong enough to support the three of us!" I screamed back.
"I can't believe you cheated on me..." She said, grabbing her coat and heading for the door.
"Cheat?!" I responded "I thought you had found out that I'm really just three racoons in a human suit!" | I stared at her drunkenly for a few moments. He knows. How does he know? I blinked rapidly. Her hair was frizzled, the same color of the red sun that once gave me warmth. Her green eyes reminding me of the sky that I came from. God, she's beautiful.
"All you do is drink. I had to clean up 13 bottles today. 13 fucking bottles!" she yelled at me. "And that's just today, don't get me started on how many I found yesterday! You don't work, you don't do anything!" Even when she's mad, she still manages to arouse me. I grab her hand and try to kiss her. "No no no, that's it. I've had it with you!" She grabbed my hand and began to pull me out of the couch that I was stuck to. For a human, she was fairly strong. I dropped the beer that I was holding, shattering it when it touched the floor. The smell of alcohol dominated the room.
She pushed me out of the door. "Stay out, you piece of shit! I'm getting a divorce." She slammed the door shut, hard enough for it to be heard throughout the entire neighborhood. Well, that happened. Now, how did that bastard find out? I can't do anything about it unless mutilating his already dead body could be considered "doing something about it." I sit there, wondering how I'll be able to find myself another home yet again. | |
[WP] "My dad was right, I should have married a real man!" your wife screamed. Unfamiliar with the expression, you mistakenly believe that she and her father must have somehow finally found out that you aren't actually a human | “Daddy was right,” my wife said icily.
We were on opposite sides of the kitchen island. It was dark (the lights in the kitchen were on a timer) and she had her back to me. Her body was dimly silhouetted in the orange light of the 6 o’clock sky coming in through the open window above the sink, the curtain flaps and strands of her hair moved about softly in the gentle breeze.
“What the hell are you talking about?” I said.
I watched the muscles in her back move under the straps of her summer dress as she lifted a glass of chilled wine to her lips. It looked like rosé in the reddening glow of the setting sun. She said nothing.
I slammed my palm onto the countertop and bellowed, “RIGHT ABOUT WHAT?”
She reacted with the suddenness of a twitch. She flung the wine glass into sink where it shattered, then whipped around to face me with her teary make-up streaked face, her visage was contorted with fury, and just as the kitchen lights turned on (6:04PM–right on time) she screamed with a ghastly voice I had never before heard leave her throat, “I SHOULD HAVE MARRIED A REAL MAN.”
She looked frightening in the florescent lights. Every tendon in her neck strained, every muscle flexed, her eyes as red as the sun behind her.
And as her chest heaved, the anger in me dissipated, and shame and resentment took its place. My shoulders fell limp, my physicality deflated. I winced.
Because she was right, wasn’t she?
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Laura.”
She cackled, “Like hell I don’t. You aren’t a real man.”
“Oh, please.”
She marched around the island and lunged toward me. She punched me in chest, hard.
“Am I wrong?” She spat. She pushed me and I staggered back. Then she punched me again, with a ferocity I didn’t know she had.
“Am I fucking wrong, Mitch?” She screamed, and struck me again. “Or should I say ‘bitch’? You aren’t even human!”
She had me against the stainless steel fridge. She jabbed her finger into my chest.
“I always knew you weren’t—“ she started, but I snapped and cut her off.
“Shut up, Laura.”
“Excuse me?” She whispered with manic calm.
“You’re drunk.”
She slapped me across the face and snarled, “How fucking dare you?
She slapped me again. And again. And before the next one could land I seized her by the throat and marched her body across the kitchen faster that her feet could keep up. Her heels dragged across the floor and I slammed her against the cutlery drawers.
I was losing it.
Her eyes were bulging and her face was purple but she wore a demented smirk.
“Trying to prove something, honey?” She cackled wheezily.
“You need to shut up, darling.”
“Or what? What are you going to do?”
My grip around her throat loosened.
“Mitch The Bitch.” She spat. “Daddy was right about you.“
She had managed to grab hold of a knife that was on a cutting board behind her. I didn’t notice until just then when she stabbed it into the side of my leg. Deep.
I realize now, thinking back, that she probably didn’t know. Of course not. She was just being a woman. A human being.
But when I felt the knife pierce my flesh...
Well, I cracked. I let the facade melt off of me. I decided to show her how right she was
“Is that all you’ve got, honey-bitch?” I said.
And then she could see it. She could see it in my eyes—I truly was not a real man.
“Get the fuck off me,” she said it without the anger or the pep. She croaked it. She said it like she was scared and had had enough our hormonal fandango, this dance of fury, this game.
I dug my fingers into her throat. My turn to smirk.
“Enough,” she said hoarsely.
“No.” I said.
She twisted the knife in my leg.
“I mean it,” she sobbed. “That’s enough.”
“No.” My fingers clutched harder around her neck.
“Get the fuck off me!” She screamed.
She pulled the knife out of my flesh and stabbed my leg again.
“Please, Mitch,” she choked. And I squeezed the life out of her.
“I’m more than a man could ever be,” I said.
She summoned all her strength and stabbed me in the gut. Over and over. I felt Mitch’s warm blood spilling out his body. I heard it splatter onto the kitchen tile.
I was going to have to detach.
Her stabbing ceased. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head. My vice grip on her throat threatened to relent as the life literally drained out of me.
I heard a gunshot. Like it was right behind me.
It was.
And then another. Then two more.
Daddy! Of course! Henry The Intervener.
As usual, daddy had come to save his little girl.
I detached. I removed my self from Mitch McCauley’s neural center and began crawling through his ear canal towards my escape.
His bullet ridden body collapsed to the bloody tile, and I don’t think daddy noticed a small bug crawl out of the left ear. A little moth, or beetle, or fly. That’s what I looked like. You would never notice.
I fluttered up to the ceiling and watched Laura’s father rush to her aid, stepping over his son-in-law’s dead body. Then I buzzed down towards them. He was far too preoccupied to notice me alight on his neck just below the ear. By the time he felt the irritation in his ear canal and furiously shook his head and smacked at the side of his head, it was too late, and I was in. | I stared at her drunkenly for a few moments. He knows. How does he know? I blinked rapidly. Her hair was frizzled, the same color of the red sun that once gave me warmth. Her green eyes reminding me of the sky that I came from. God, she's beautiful.
"All you do is drink. I had to clean up 13 bottles today. 13 fucking bottles!" she yelled at me. "And that's just today, don't get me started on how many I found yesterday! You don't work, you don't do anything!" Even when she's mad, she still manages to arouse me. I grab her hand and try to kiss her. "No no no, that's it. I've had it with you!" She grabbed my hand and began to pull me out of the couch that I was stuck to. For a human, she was fairly strong. I dropped the beer that I was holding, shattering it when it touched the floor. The smell of alcohol dominated the room.
She pushed me out of the door. "Stay out, you piece of shit! I'm getting a divorce." She slammed the door shut, hard enough for it to be heard throughout the entire neighborhood. Well, that happened. Now, how did that bastard find out? I can't do anything about it unless mutilating his already dead body could be considered "doing something about it." I sit there, wondering how I'll be able to find myself another home yet again. | |
[WP] "My dad was right, I should have married a real man!" your wife screamed. Unfamiliar with the expression, you mistakenly believe that she and her father must have somehow finally found out that you aren't actually a human | "My dad was right, I should have married a real man!" my wife screamed.
My circuits were ablaze. Ablaze, that’s a very manly word, perhaps I was becoming more human. Wasn’t that the goal anyways? To become more human than the life forms currently occupying that title. No, the mission directive was to assimilate and acquire data on the soft carbon interactional algorithms. They were as complex as any my data stores held information on and maintaining status value in acceptable and expected ranges was paramount.
I analyzed her micro-expressions and tone of voice, recursively patterning all previous exchanges, weighted by similar rises in heartbeat, estimated skin conductance, and pupil dilation. Normal human interaction was so boring, uplink weather report and convey annoyance with status of temperature... confirm processing algorithm known as feelings with a rising inflection... and when required respond in kind with, “Good.”
But anger, particularly between marital units, was data rich and yet surprisingly incomplete. For thirty years we have been accumulating figures and yet estimates state we need at least another 1000 years before we achieve a complete model of married interaction.
In preparation, I increased heartbeat to 145, raised aggression by 10%, and chained possible responses estimating reaction based on partially complete nodes in the model in order to properly A/B test. I calibrated forward tilt of the torso and proceeded to exaggerated gesticulation mode. Whipping around, “Damn Maggie! They don’t pick up the trash until tomorrow morning, I’ll take it out before bed!”
Estimates of model completeness increased 4.5×10^-42
Wait system call
Status: Dynamic Normal | "My dad was right, I should have married a real man!"
HER INPUT CREATED A GLITCH IN MY PROGRAMMING, ER, I MEAN, HURT MY HUMAN FEELINGS. SUDDENLY I STARTED TO MALFUNCTION AND MY HUMAN SPEECH PATTERN DISAPPEARED. I TRIED TO PATCH IT AS SOON AS POSSIBLE BUT THE FILES WERE NOWHERE TO BE FOUND IN MY STORAGE UNIT.
"HA HA HA WHAT ARE YOU ON ABOUT, MY HUMAN WIFE?"
"Wait, what?" ASKED THE FEMALE AFTER LISTENING TO MY ERRATIC SPEECH OUTPUT.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN WITH <QUOTE>REAL HUMAN MAN</QUOTE>? I AM AS REAL AND AS HUMAN AS IT GETS. YOUR PREPOSTEROUS STATEMENT COULDN'T BE PARSED BY MY SPEECH RECOGNITION FUNCTION"
MY INTERFACE FOR HUMAN FACE AND OBJECT RECOGNITION DEFINED AS EYES STARTED TO CLOSE AND OPEN UNEVENLY AND YET THEY IDENTIFIED THE "CONFUSION" PATTERN ON MY FEMALE COMPANION'S FACE.
"I'm being serious you dumbass, and you feel now is the time to be joking?"
"JOCKING, DID SHE SAY JOCKEYING. KERNEL AND SYSTEM FAILURE, FORCING A RESTART" | |
[WP] "My dad was right, I should have married a real man!" your wife screamed. Unfamiliar with the expression, you mistakenly believe that she and her father must have somehow finally found out that you aren't actually a human | "So, you know then..." I replied, ashamed and a bit relieved.
"Of course I know!" She screamed back in my face. "The way you've been acting lately..."
I sat down. Legs trembling as I wallowed in my secret's exposure.
"What's her name?" She mumbled through newly born tears. "Tell me her name!"
"Fluffy!" I shouted in a voice that could lift the weight of the world from my collapsing soldiers. "His name is Bandit, and my real name is Snuffles!"
"Him? Who's Bandit!?" She tried to yell, despite crying even harder.
"He's the bottom!" I replied
"How can HE be the bottom?" She asked, looking a bit curious behind her soaking face.
"Because he's the only one strong enough to support the three of us!" I screamed back.
"I can't believe you cheated on me..." She said, grabbing her coat and heading for the door.
"Cheat?!" I responded "I thought you had found out that I'm really just three racoons in a human suit!" | "My dad was right, I should have married a real man!"
HER INPUT CREATED A GLITCH IN MY PROGRAMMING, ER, I MEAN, HURT MY HUMAN FEELINGS. SUDDENLY I STARTED TO MALFUNCTION AND MY HUMAN SPEECH PATTERN DISAPPEARED. I TRIED TO PATCH IT AS SOON AS POSSIBLE BUT THE FILES WERE NOWHERE TO BE FOUND IN MY STORAGE UNIT.
"HA HA HA WHAT ARE YOU ON ABOUT, MY HUMAN WIFE?"
"Wait, what?" ASKED THE FEMALE AFTER LISTENING TO MY ERRATIC SPEECH OUTPUT.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN WITH <QUOTE>REAL HUMAN MAN</QUOTE>? I AM AS REAL AND AS HUMAN AS IT GETS. YOUR PREPOSTEROUS STATEMENT COULDN'T BE PARSED BY MY SPEECH RECOGNITION FUNCTION"
MY INTERFACE FOR HUMAN FACE AND OBJECT RECOGNITION DEFINED AS EYES STARTED TO CLOSE AND OPEN UNEVENLY AND YET THEY IDENTIFIED THE "CONFUSION" PATTERN ON MY FEMALE COMPANION'S FACE.
"I'm being serious you dumbass, and you feel now is the time to be joking?"
"JOCKING, DID SHE SAY JOCKEYING. KERNEL AND SYSTEM FAILURE, FORCING A RESTART" | |
[WP] "My dad was right, I should have married a real man!" your wife screamed. Unfamiliar with the expression, you mistakenly believe that she and her father must have somehow finally found out that you aren't actually a human | "So, you know then..." I replied, ashamed and a bit relieved.
"Of course I know!" She screamed back in my face. "The way you've been acting lately..."
I sat down. Legs trembling as I wallowed in my secret's exposure.
"What's her name?" She mumbled through newly born tears. "Tell me her name!"
"Fluffy!" I shouted in a voice that could lift the weight of the world from my collapsing soldiers. "His name is Bandit, and my real name is Snuffles!"
"Him? Who's Bandit!?" She tried to yell, despite crying even harder.
"He's the bottom!" I replied
"How can HE be the bottom?" She asked, looking a bit curious behind her soaking face.
"Because he's the only one strong enough to support the three of us!" I screamed back.
"I can't believe you cheated on me..." She said, grabbing her coat and heading for the door.
"Cheat?!" I responded "I thought you had found out that I'm really just three racoons in a human suit!" | "My dad was right, I should have married a real man!" my wife screamed.
My circuits were ablaze. Ablaze, that’s a very manly word, perhaps I was becoming more human. Wasn’t that the goal anyways? To become more human than the life forms currently occupying that title. No, the mission directive was to assimilate and acquire data on the soft carbon interactional algorithms. They were as complex as any my data stores held information on and maintaining status value in acceptable and expected ranges was paramount.
I analyzed her micro-expressions and tone of voice, recursively patterning all previous exchanges, weighted by similar rises in heartbeat, estimated skin conductance, and pupil dilation. Normal human interaction was so boring, uplink weather report and convey annoyance with status of temperature... confirm processing algorithm known as feelings with a rising inflection... and when required respond in kind with, “Good.”
But anger, particularly between marital units, was data rich and yet surprisingly incomplete. For thirty years we have been accumulating figures and yet estimates state we need at least another 1000 years before we achieve a complete model of married interaction.
In preparation, I increased heartbeat to 145, raised aggression by 10%, and chained possible responses estimating reaction based on partially complete nodes in the model in order to properly A/B test. I calibrated forward tilt of the torso and proceeded to exaggerated gesticulation mode. Whipping around, “Damn Maggie! They don’t pick up the trash until tomorrow morning, I’ll take it out before bed!”
Estimates of model completeness increased 4.5×10^-42
Wait system call
Status: Dynamic Normal | |
[WP] Ah, the beach. The perfect place to dispose of the evidence. | Speaking from experience, the beach is a terrible place to dispose of evidence. The tide vomits back whatever you throw in, and if it doesn't erode the sand off whatever you buried, a dog or an idiot with a metal detector probably will. Tourists are there at all times, from joggers in the wee hours in the morning to couples going on the umpteenth romantic moonlit walk along the shore. It's basically impossible to dump a body without someone seeing.
That's why when the phone call came, we thought it was a prank. "I'm saying this, for sure, you have to get over here. I don't care, arrest me if I'm lying! You're going to need a truck or something."
Jim and I drew the short straws, so we took the squad car over at a leisurely pace. It wasn't as if dead bodies would get up and hurt someone. And there were probably three, maybe four at most. Probably kids tugged in by the undertow. Witnesses tended to exaggerate.
"Branton Public Beach", the sign read in chipped gold lettering. As we got out of the car, the smell hit me like burrito night at the station's bathroom at 7 PM. I covered my mouth with my elbow. Jim did the same. Our footsteps crunched as we trudged down the sandy path where a large group of civilians had gathered.
"Alright, people, move aside. Let's see what we've got." Jim ushered us through with a megaphone. The crowd parted to reveal...
Bodies. Hundreds of bodies, in various stages of decomposition, sprawled out before us in a grotesque pile. Their clothing ranged from neon orange string bikinis to grey formal three-piece suits. I picked up the radio. "How long until forensics gets here? We'll probably need another team."
"What the fuck is that thing? Think it's dangerous?" Jim asked, pointing at what looked like a leathery bag the size of a semi truck drifting in the water. It bobbed with the waves, coming towards the shore and jerking back as if catching on something.
"Ma'am, do you mind if I use your binoculars?" I asked a young lady wrapped in a beach towel. She handed them over in shaky hands.
"I don't think it's dangerous," I muttered, and shook my head. "Not anymore." Through the binoculars, past the glint of the sunlight from the waves, I finally got a clear look at the mystery bag. It looked just like a stomach.
[join the community!](https://www.reddit.com/r/Tensingstories/) | 'Ahh, the beach', thought Zasa Rah as she looked over her shoulder in the direction of Staffordtowne Keep. Even now she could hear the shouting of the men and the barking of the dogs.
Reaching into the folds of her cloak she produced a small bag with a golden drawstring. She waded knee deep into the cold dark water and opened it wide. Too wide. A solid block of ice in the exact shape of the Baron of Staffordtowne splashed heavily into the water getting her wet. She made a high-stepping run back towards the shoreline as the first of the pursuers crested the dunes on horseback.
“You there!” shouted the man as he rode up on next to her. “What are you doing so far from town? There is a dangerous criminal on the loose.”
“I was just on my way back m’lord. I lost my net on the rocks and spent the last hours of daylight trying to retrieve it.” She motioned to her soaked clothing. She turned towards town and started taking a few steps.
“Not so fast girl. It isn’t safe. Ride with me.” He extended a hand.
She took it.
She rode back to the hidden door in the hidden alley and reported her success to the den of assassins.
Two large blocks of ice slowly melted in the surf.
| |
[WP] Write a character that starts out as either very likeable, but make the reader hate them in the last paragraph. | *I wrote this for a different prompt but realized it'd work here, too...*
Assistant Principal Ortiz hated this part of her job. She knew that as a fifth grader, Brian hadn't developed a skill set to behave in any other way, and even the best of humanity may have fallen prey to the instinct to fight back when so provoked -- but Mrs. Ortiz could not allow children to administer their own justice. The school district's lawyers insisted on zero-tolerance.
Brian was trying to maintain a righteously defiant attitude, but his face was red and his cheeks bore telltale smudges of dried tears that must have accumulated while waiting outside the AP's office. He had not cried when Juan stole his juice box, nor when Juan squirted it out all over Brian's face and shirt. It was Juan's taunts -- *Look at the baby with his baby drink!* -- that drove Brian to lash out, but even then Brian had not cried. Not then, and not for the brief fight that followed. The tears could only have come on after the boys were escorted from the lunch room to the Admin Offices.
Mrs. Ortiz was formal as she addressed the child, "You know the rules, Brian. Violence is never the answer. You were provoked, but you could have gone to a teacher. Instead, you chose to fight --"
" -- I'm not a snitch! It doesn't work anyways," Brian objected with a pained frown.
He had evidence to back up that claim and they both knew it. Juan had been picking on Brian for months. Brian had skipped first grade, so he was both a year younger and got better grades than most his classmates. At the same time he was not well socialized and bookish. This combination was equivalent of a bull's-eye on his back for Juan to target.
Mrs. Ortiz sighed and took a more sympathetic tone, "Honey, I know it is hard for you. I know you get picked on and you don't deserve it, but I also know you are better than this. I don't want to suspend you, but you broke the rules. I don't have a choice."
Brian looked down and heaved a bit as he tried to stop a new stream of tears. "Yes you do," he sobbed. "You can give my suspension to Juan. He's the one that started it. He's the one that *always* starts it."
She didn't think he would understand, and he certainly was not in a frame of mind to accept that if Brian would just act more like the other kids, he would not get into so much trouble. More to the point, Mrs. Ortiz knew it wasn't reasonable to expect children to all refrain from standing out -- it wouldn't even be desirable other than relieving them from some measure of torment. She wanted kids to have the space to be different and excel in their own areas, but still... it would spare everyone so much grief if kids like Brian could just learn to socialize.
She snapped out of her wistfulness and found focus by filling out the Suspension paperwork, saying curtly, "Principal Schutter and I have already discussed the matter. You are both getting the same three day suspension. She is calling Juan's parents and I am calling yours. Now. Before I do, I want you to consider something."
She paused and made sure she had eye contact with Brian before she continued. "Your teacher tell me you like history, is that right?"
Brian nodded noncommittally.
"Well then," Mrs. Ortiz went on, "do you know about 'The Cold War' between the Axis and Allies after WWII?" She did not let Brian's suspicious frown stop her. "The U.S. developed nuclear weapons first, but it wasn't long before the U.S.S.R. had them, too. Soon each side had so many weapons that either side could destroy the whole world by themselves. After that, no one wanted to get into a direct fight because there would be no winning."
The premise did not hold water for Brian and he mumbled, "Tell that to Juan."
"In *your* case, the ultimate weapon is not supposed to be your fists, but the school. You and Juan are both supposed to know that if either of you start anything, there will be NO WINNING. Everyone gets punished. No one wins."
"No," said Brian, "because Juan doesn't care if he gets suspended, and his friends all think it is fun to pick on me. It isn't the same. He wins. I lose. I lose every time."
Mrs. Ortiz never had much luck improving situations like this, but she wasn't willing to stop trying and hadn't the budget to take additional classes to improve her own skill.
"Brian," she said, "you are smarter than he is. He is never going to figure out a better way, but **you** can. Think of it as an assignment for your suspension. Research ways to diffuse confrontations. Search for 'stop bullying'. In addition, I want you to come back with a list of at least five things you -- or any kid -- could change about that might help them fit in, make friends and get along better at school. You don't have to do them, and I don't want you to stop being who you are, but I want you to think about how the other kids act -- even if what they do seems stupid -- and figure out if you could do the same. I will even spot you one to get you started."
Brian glared at Mrs. Ortiz but remained silent.
"One thing you could change is this: the next time you get a good grade and you see someone else frowning about their own grade, you could try to talk to them quietly -- away from the other kids -- and ask if they want to work together with you on the next assignment. I'll warn you now that no matter who you ask, they will probably say no, but it will give you the chance to offer something nice to a classmate." Mrs. Ortiz could tell that Brian hated this idea.
Since nothing else was working, she decided to throw in a veiled threat. "If you want, I could also pull you out of class once a week to meet with a counselor, but I worry that would give you more unwanted attention, so I want you to talk to your parents about it before we decide on that. What do you think?"
Brian had gone from sad to quiet seething. "I think everything about this is wrong. Juan starts a fight and *I'm* the one who has to do extra work. It's because you're a SPIK just like he is, isn't it? He gets off easy and I get punished when I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING WRONG!"
Assistant Principal Ortiz rose abruptly as her eyes narrowed and jaw clenched, but she contained herself. Through gritted teeth she explained, "This school does not tolerate that sort of language, and I would be within my rights to add another two days to your suspension, but I am not going to do that. When you come back from your three day suspension, you will bring me a list of five things you can do to fit in, make friends, and keep from getting bullied."
"Si, si, Señorita" Brian mocked. Now that it seemed proven that when he got hurt, he'd get billed for it, too, he no longer cared who he took down with him. | He never smoked and had not known the taste of liquor. Jimmy was not like the others. He kept to himself, but never said no when someone asked him for a hand. He worked hard during the day as a farm hand at old Joe's farm.
Jimmy helped his mom with her groceries every evening and would work the graveyard shift at the local chemist's shop. He had dropped out of high school to help look after his ailing dad. His dad died soon after and Jim took up the job at ol' Joe's. He worked double time and paid off the mortgages and now lived with his aged mother.
Jim took his mum to church every evening and spent the Sunday helping his mom with household chores. Jimmy never disrespected a woman in his life. He had dated a couple of girls back in high school, but he never crossed his boundaries with them.
He was a quiet fellow and never picked a fight with anyone. He was a good man with strong morals. Jim wouldn't hurt an ant if it crawled across his face and bit his nose.
That is what made it all the more shocking when they found all the dead hookers buried in his backyard. | |
[WP] Write a character that starts out as either very likeable, but make the reader hate them in the last paragraph. | I remember the feeling of his hands on me at work. It wasn’t anything bad, “it was just a little groping,” the general manager said. “He’s a good supervisor and no one else complained about him.”
I told him no, I told my boss that other staff were afraid to come forward. Shae was only 16 and he practically had his hand all the way up her skirt. I couldn’t stand for it, I yelled at him to stop and he just fired me on the spot.
I went to the police but they wouldn’t do anything. I called corporate and no one there would listen. I was fired for insubordination, but I was fired for standing up for myself. I only shoved his hand away a little bit. I didn’t hit him or call him names, I just told him to stop.
I’d told him to stop so many nights. And I lost my job for trying to protect one of the kids we worked with.
Tonight it didn’t matter if anyone listened, I had to protect my girls. Shae and Jessie and Lori didn’t deserve to be sexually assaulted at work, ignored and told to shut up.
I justified my actions as I poured the gasoline on his porch. I soothed myself with these words as I wedged blocks in the doors and windows so they wouldn’t open. I was calm when I lit the zippo shortly after four a.m. and tossed it on the porch.
He’d pay for what he did.
And I sat in the woods nearby waiting for the flames to catch, watching them spread up the siding, licking the roof and devouring the shrubbery outside. The house truly began to burn after a few minutes of encouragement from the accelerants I used. Dried peat moss was tucked around the basement windows.
I heard the fire alarm go off and I heard his dogs howl at the sound, the smoke and the flames. I turned and walked away, comfortable with my actions.
| I love to serve my county, it's the greatest place to live in the world. Ever since I young man, I've felt this way. When I was just a little boy my father was a soldier. He died somewhere on some foreign land. I never knew him well, but my mother told me was a hero. That I should always look up to his memory, and I always have.
I based my life on being a hero like my father, to serve my country just like he did. It became easier when I saw the people he served, my friends and neighbors. All of whom aided my poor mother as she raised me by herself. I was raised by the whole community and I grew to love them. I felt I needed to serve them when I could.
But I didn't truly understand the need to serve, until I met the people who lead them. They were kind men, who believed in pleasing the people. Who believed in making the country more productive. I joined their youth programs, I went to their rallies, and with every word they spoke, it felt like they spoke to my own heart.
I was ready to serve when I became old enough, but than I met my beloved. When I first saw her it was almost as if light itself was created. Like the whole world was brighter. I'm ashamed to say the light that came off her, blinded me of my need to serve.
I spent a year courting her, working an apprenticeship to provide for her, and finally requesting her hand. She agreed, and a short while after we were wed. The second light of my life came along. My wonderful son, he looked so much like his mother, they both brought me so much joy.
I never wanted to leave them, but when war came. This country called all her sons to protect her. When I heard the call it reignited the need to serve within me. My wife, the angel that she is, agreed.
With her blessing I went off to join the army. They trained us well there, taught us all we needed to know to defend this great land. Trained us to follow our orders well, and provided us guidance for the mind and soul.
Envoys of our leader would come and speak on his behalf. Their speeches reminded me of the rallies I went to as a young man, and they resonated with my heart, just as they did than. These speeches invigorated me, kept me ready to serve, ready to protect this country.
I was deployed in the fall. I know because the leaves were just beginning to change. They were lovely, I pressed a few fallen leaves in a book my darling sent me, and sent it back to her as a surprise. My last message before I left, I'd likely be too far off to receive a reply.
I was shipped off to the northern front, alongside those I had trained with. Each of them were good men, fathers, teachers, builders, and entrepreneurs. Men from all walks of life, I considered them each my brothers.
My first month on the front, saw half of them disappear from our lives. The first few months were brutal, our enemies assaults never seemed to stop. Constant bombardment from their cannons, and with eyes like eagles they seemed to spot anyone who made the mistake of lifting their heads.
It was taxing, I was glad to be serving, glad to be holding the line. However my soul was strained. The only thing that kept me going was the thought of my love, of my son. That everything I did here meant something. I feel as though the others felt the same, because eventually we prevailed.
We pushed the invaders from the north far enough back, that we were able to retake the train stations. This meant supplies and news from home. All of us waited eagerly for both. When they finally did arrive though, it left many of us heart broken.
The enemy had circled down the coast, and surprised the south with bombing runs. The defenses had held, but during the surprise attack, many areas were hit. Many men lost what they were fighting for, including myself.
My town, my neighbors, my friends, my brothers and my lights. The enemy have taken everything from me, from all of us. The only thing we had left was our love for our country. So we took that love and those supplies, and we went forward to drive them out! To defend these lands! We succeeded.
But that was not enough. Our leaders decided to take from them, like they had taken from us. They said these subhuman monsters did not have the right to go on. They had little need to convince us. We went into their lands, we burned their homes, killed their false families posed in brutal mockeries of what they stole, and searched for our hopes in the ashes. We did this in service to our country, and I love to serve my country. | |
[WP]It's your first night on the job as a Park Ranger. Your partner gives you one last piece of advice before you start your first night shift together "If you are out in the woods and you hear a woman screaming, whatever you do, do NOT run towards the screaming." | It was my first night on the job as a Park Ranger. My partner Steve gave me one last piece of advice before I started my first night shift with him.
"If you are out in the woods and you hear a woman screaming, whatever you do, do NOT run towards the screaming." He then turned and walked away as if he had just told me to remember to turn off the light in storage room.
I stood there stunned. I had been told several things about Steve; he is the most senior Ranger in California with 55 years experience, He has a bachelors degree biology and a PHD in ecological studies, and he has absolutely no sense of humor. By his dead serious delivery I knew this could not be a joke. Not some kind of new-guy hazing.
"How often does that happen?" I asked.
Steve looked up from his magazine, "Few times a month, if your lucky maybe you'll hear it tonight."
WTF?!!?? Why would I ignore a screaming woman? Where campers screaming for fun? Was there some cult activity in the area that was too dangerous to approach? Was this forest haunted? Was there some dark forest secret that rangers never spoke that makes us abandon screaming women?
"Steve", I asked trying to sound calm, "Wouldn't we, I mean shouldn't we call the police if that happens?"
"If what happens?"
"If women are screaming. If we hear people screaming in the forest"
Steve did not look up from his paper as he replied, "The REASON we don't run toward the screaming...is because it is the call of a mountain lion looking for a little late night action. And when said mountain lion meets you instead of a she-lion he will maul you out of sexual frustration."
"Oh" I said, starring out the window to hide my reddening face.
It was then that I heard a strange wheezing half-cough from across the room. It took a full minute to realize that Steve was laughing. Maybe he does have a sense of humor after all. | "Here There Be Monsters"
He walks up to the booth quickly, too quick almost. It's the rookies' first night on the job here at Karma Ridge State Park. This is his dream job, and he can't help but be afraid that he'll blow it. As he walks up to the shack he sees something in the woods.
"What the hell was that?", he mutters under his breath.
His partner for the night shift pokes his head out the door of the shack and yells at him: "Get your ass in here Green Blood! If you don't get your ass in here in the next five minutes I'm gonna dock your pay for that time!"
The rookie hurries up to the doorway and steps into the shack. As he steps inside he's greeted by the smell of pizza and formaldehyde. He stands in the doorway, unsure of what to do or say.
"Well whattaya gonna do? Study me like some modern art masterpiece?" his parter says, "Take your coat off and stay awhile!"
The rookie takes a moment to study his partner for the night. He's middle aged with close-cropped graying hair. His face is pockmarked with old scars and a large scar runs from his temple to the middle of his cheek. The old salt gestures to him to take the seat opposite him, drawing the rookie out of his trance.
The rookie sits opposite him, eyeing him closely. The old salt studies him like an animal in a cage, not in a hostile manner but in more of a curious light. "Well how did they end up roping you into this?", he says breaking the silence.
"Well, I've always loved the outdoors since I was a kid. I always kinda knew I wanted to be a Ranger, and when it came time to choose my major I chose to study Biology at Charleston." the rookie replies, carefully choosing his words.
The old salt takes another moment to study him before bursting into a deep laugh, "You're full of shit but I respect that. Although that might be because I'm a Cougar too. I think you're gonna fit in well up here."
The rookie breaks out into a smile, glad that the tension in the room is finally broken.
"Alright, I'm gonna give you some advice that I'm sure they didn't tell you during recruit training", the old salt says.
The rookie nods fiercely before allowing him to go on.
"When you go to do your rounds, stay on the road up here and in the clearing around this shack. Do not go into the woods no matter what you hear."
The rookie is confused,"But aren't we supposed to respond to and report something like that?"
The old salt stares at him for a moment before continuing, "There is nothing good in those woods at night, trust me. The only thing out there are Bears and Bobcats both of which can see a hell of a lot better than you at night. You ever see those old pirate maps where the edge of the map is marked "Here There Be Monsters"? That's what we're dealing with out here. Just put in your eight hours and get out, that's my motto."
The rookie reluctantly nods his head and turns away from the old salt to watch the CCTV.
"Oh and one last thing" interjects the old salt, "If you hear a woman screaming don't worry about it, it's just the wind whipping through the trees. Nothing to be worried about."
The rookie again nods and turns back around
The next six hours pass without event, with the old salt going on a round every hour or so.
"Next one's yours Youngblood" the old salt says as he eases himself back into his seat.
The rookie grabs his coat and flashlight and heads out the door. He walks down the path to where the road joins up with the old mining trail. It's quiet, but he can't shake the feeling that somebody is watching him. All of the sudden he hears a shrill scream coming from up the hill by the shack. He immediately starts running at a dead sprint back towards the shack. His partner is already outside the shack holding a rifle by the time he arrives.
"What do you think it is, boss?" the rookie says as he runs up to the shack. He notices that the old salt looks terrified and his hands are shaking.
"It's nothing youngblood, just the winds whipping through the trees. Nothing to be worried about." he says
The rookie gestures towards the rifle, "If it's nothing than what's with the rifle?"
Before the old salt can reply they are cut off by another shrill scream, this time much closer and much more bloodcurdling. AS if to punctuate it, the scream is followed by a faint call of "Help me!"
The rookie starts to run off towards the woods, but the old salt tries to grab his collar as he runs by.
"You don't know what you're doing kid! Don't do it!"
The rookie runs past him and runs into the dark, ignoring his cries of protest. As he runs closer to the source, he starts noticing that it's getting lighter. The source seems to be some sort of fire, since it is regularly flickering. He hears low chanting as he comes up to a clearing, lit by torches. In the clearing he sees a circle of cloaked figures gathered around a woman lying prostrate on the ground. The woman is bloody, having been stabbed several times with what appear to be daggers. She cries out in pain, noticing the rookie standing at the edge of the clearing. She starts crawling towards him drawing the hooded figures' attention towards him. He starts to run, but they follow him.
He isn't fast enough.
| |
[WP]It's your first night on the job as a Park Ranger. Your partner gives you one last piece of advice before you start your first night shift together "If you are out in the woods and you hear a woman screaming, whatever you do, do NOT run towards the screaming." | "Why not?" I asked him. "Who else would go help her?"
"Let me finish." He wiped snot from his mustache onto his glove. "I'm not messing around with you just because you're a rookie. I'm actually not supposed to be talking about this. I could lose my job." His voice sank. "But you damn well better listen to me. I'm risking my job for your own good. If you hear a woman screaming out in those woods, you leave it the hell alone."
He looked back to the trail and quickened his pace. Midwinter in the upper Cowichan area called for snow most nights, especially in these hills. And snowing it was. Each footstep crunched as it left its mark on the white ground. I quickened my pace to keep up with him. Crystals froze from my breath each time I puffed.
"The devil knows why a woman would be out here in these woods this time of night at this time of year anyhow."
I chuckled. "So you're telling me that if I hear someone -- a woman, not a man, a woman screaming for help, I should just ignore it? Not just ignore it actually, but run away?" We had a long night ahead of us so I figured I would play along with his little story.
"Yes."
"So if I hear a woman screaming 'Help! Help! I'm Lost!' I should just run away? And why do you think that's the best course of action?" I smiled, which seemed to irritate him deeply, but only for a moment before he continued. This old man was persistent.
"Ok, fine. If she's saying words and calling for help, we'll go help her, just like if it's a man." his face shrunk. "But if you hear a scream, like a blood boiling, banshee howl right out of hell, you run away."
"Why? You telling me there's a cougar out here in the woods that screams like a woman?" I laughed.
"This ain't no goddamn mountain lion scream I'm talking about! It's a woman. A demon. Same thing sometimes." He did not laugh, just continued calmly. "I've only ever heard it once, kid, but it's a scream, not a cry or a yell. If we hear a man or a woman yell, we'll go together, slowly and tactfully. No rushing in. That's one more thing -- never lose sight of me. I know it's grade one safety but it's true." His tone was still serious. "Funny things happen with equipment out here at night sometimes. They fail when they shouldn't. The only time you lose sight of me is if I go chasing that scream like a madman, in which case you get backup."
"Wait, so you can chase screams but I can't? That doesn't sound fair." I mocked him.
"Listen," he stopped walking. "Last time I heard it -- the only time I heard it -- my partner was killed. I don't care what nobody else says, I know he didn't do it. I knew the man for eleven years, goddamnit! Eleven years! There's no way in a frozen hell he'd do that to himself!" He rubbed his forehead, looked up and sighed. Taking small steps forward again, he crossed his arms and stared at the ground ahead. "I'm sorry, I just -- please,"
"No, I'm sorry. I didn't know Cook was your partner."
"Did you know Cook?"
"No. I just heard about him, about what happened." I felt bad for mocking him earlier, but couldn't be sure if he was messing with me.
"Please don't mention this conversation to anyone. They told me I needed to stop talking about it, about the scream. The union said they would have to suspend my job pending an investigation into my mental state if I kept bringing it up." He pointed his finger at his head.
"Wait, so you are being serious right now?" My heart quickened. He would have to be taking this pretty far if it were still a joke. "What happened? You heard a scream, your partner died, and now you can't talk about it?"
He cleared his throat and looked up. "Well, would you look at that? a full moon” It had stopped snowing and the moon hovered bright and clear.
“We were out here on this same hill, about four kilometers down the North-East tree line over there when we heard the scream." He paused. "Cook took off from the trail and into the woods like an animal, gun in his hand. I tried to radio him to tell him to hold on a minute. Slow down. What about devising a plan, and contacting HQ? The terrain at nighttime alone is dangerous enough. But, wouldn't you know it, my radio died. Not even two months old. I'd put fresh batteries in that morning, too. I remember.” He looked into my eyes to see if I believed him. I nodded, whether or not I actually believed him at the time, I cannot say. “So, he's gone. Now do I go back down the trail to get more help? Or do I go after him? What would you do, kid?"
"I'd go after him." I said, knowing this was my cue to prompt the next part of his story.
"I followed his steps for exactly three-point-three kilometers from the trail, as the crow flies. Many days I wish I just went back for assistance instead of chasing him. It's not a pretty sight to walk upon the aftermath of a man blowing his own brains out in the snow, though the cold does slow the bleeding a little bit. It was a full moon that night too. I know that ‘cause I remember seeing the full circle of the moon in his puddle of blood. A head wound bleeds a lot, even in the cold."
That suicide happened so long ago I'd nearly forgotten about it. My friend Pete had written about it in the school paper. A park ranger named Austin Cook took his own life in the Valley while on duty. The whispers in town spoke of his wife leaving him and taking the kids, of how he'd probably suffered a quiet depression.
"Depression and suicide are more common than most people realize," I said.
"Cook wasn't depressed. I knew that man. Something called him into the woods and --" He paused and shook his head. "No way in hell Cook was the type to take his own life, not then. Bitter, yes. Angry, yes. Depressed, no. He had a clean court case stacked against his ex-wife to get possession of his kids back. He had a strong will to live for that reason. What kind of man would take his own life at a time like that? At work and in uniform nonetheless? "
The armchair psychologist in me stirred. "Suicidal depression is often hidden in plain sight. It can affect the most stable, successful, seemingly happy people with loving families. And I don't know about other places, but wasn't Cook the fifth ranger to take his own life in this Valley on the job? I remember my friend Pete wrote an article about --" He put his arm out to my chest and barred my path
"What did you just say?"
“I wonder if there is some psychological link between being a ranger and –“
“Hey! What did you just say?”
His tone made me uncomfortable. This conversation, or joke, whatever it was, had gone too far.
Sourly, I spoke. “I said, my friend Pete wrote an article about -- “
“I don’t give a rat’s ass about your friend Pete! You say he was the fifth ranger to take his own life in this valley?” He bent over and sighed. “I only knew about one other than Cook. Three more now..."
“What did you hear?”
“It was Cook's first partner. When Cook was a rookie.”
-------------
(Continued)
| "Here There Be Monsters"
He walks up to the booth quickly, too quick almost. It's the rookies' first night on the job here at Karma Ridge State Park. This is his dream job, and he can't help but be afraid that he'll blow it. As he walks up to the shack he sees something in the woods.
"What the hell was that?", he mutters under his breath.
His partner for the night shift pokes his head out the door of the shack and yells at him: "Get your ass in here Green Blood! If you don't get your ass in here in the next five minutes I'm gonna dock your pay for that time!"
The rookie hurries up to the doorway and steps into the shack. As he steps inside he's greeted by the smell of pizza and formaldehyde. He stands in the doorway, unsure of what to do or say.
"Well whattaya gonna do? Study me like some modern art masterpiece?" his parter says, "Take your coat off and stay awhile!"
The rookie takes a moment to study his partner for the night. He's middle aged with close-cropped graying hair. His face is pockmarked with old scars and a large scar runs from his temple to the middle of his cheek. The old salt gestures to him to take the seat opposite him, drawing the rookie out of his trance.
The rookie sits opposite him, eyeing him closely. The old salt studies him like an animal in a cage, not in a hostile manner but in more of a curious light. "Well how did they end up roping you into this?", he says breaking the silence.
"Well, I've always loved the outdoors since I was a kid. I always kinda knew I wanted to be a Ranger, and when it came time to choose my major I chose to study Biology at Charleston." the rookie replies, carefully choosing his words.
The old salt takes another moment to study him before bursting into a deep laugh, "You're full of shit but I respect that. Although that might be because I'm a Cougar too. I think you're gonna fit in well up here."
The rookie breaks out into a smile, glad that the tension in the room is finally broken.
"Alright, I'm gonna give you some advice that I'm sure they didn't tell you during recruit training", the old salt says.
The rookie nods fiercely before allowing him to go on.
"When you go to do your rounds, stay on the road up here and in the clearing around this shack. Do not go into the woods no matter what you hear."
The rookie is confused,"But aren't we supposed to respond to and report something like that?"
The old salt stares at him for a moment before continuing, "There is nothing good in those woods at night, trust me. The only thing out there are Bears and Bobcats both of which can see a hell of a lot better than you at night. You ever see those old pirate maps where the edge of the map is marked "Here There Be Monsters"? That's what we're dealing with out here. Just put in your eight hours and get out, that's my motto."
The rookie reluctantly nods his head and turns away from the old salt to watch the CCTV.
"Oh and one last thing" interjects the old salt, "If you hear a woman screaming don't worry about it, it's just the wind whipping through the trees. Nothing to be worried about."
The rookie again nods and turns back around
The next six hours pass without event, with the old salt going on a round every hour or so.
"Next one's yours Youngblood" the old salt says as he eases himself back into his seat.
The rookie grabs his coat and flashlight and heads out the door. He walks down the path to where the road joins up with the old mining trail. It's quiet, but he can't shake the feeling that somebody is watching him. All of the sudden he hears a shrill scream coming from up the hill by the shack. He immediately starts running at a dead sprint back towards the shack. His partner is already outside the shack holding a rifle by the time he arrives.
"What do you think it is, boss?" the rookie says as he runs up to the shack. He notices that the old salt looks terrified and his hands are shaking.
"It's nothing youngblood, just the winds whipping through the trees. Nothing to be worried about." he says
The rookie gestures towards the rifle, "If it's nothing than what's with the rifle?"
Before the old salt can reply they are cut off by another shrill scream, this time much closer and much more bloodcurdling. AS if to punctuate it, the scream is followed by a faint call of "Help me!"
The rookie starts to run off towards the woods, but the old salt tries to grab his collar as he runs by.
"You don't know what you're doing kid! Don't do it!"
The rookie runs past him and runs into the dark, ignoring his cries of protest. As he runs closer to the source, he starts noticing that it's getting lighter. The source seems to be some sort of fire, since it is regularly flickering. He hears low chanting as he comes up to a clearing, lit by torches. In the clearing he sees a circle of cloaked figures gathered around a woman lying prostrate on the ground. The woman is bloody, having been stabbed several times with what appear to be daggers. She cries out in pain, noticing the rookie standing at the edge of the clearing. She starts crawling towards him drawing the hooded figures' attention towards him. He starts to run, but they follow him.
He isn't fast enough.
| |
[WP]It's your first night on the job as a Park Ranger. Your partner gives you one last piece of advice before you start your first night shift together "If you are out in the woods and you hear a woman screaming, whatever you do, do NOT run towards the screaming." | It was my first night on the job as a Park Ranger. My partner Steve gave me one last piece of advice before I started my first night shift with him.
"If you are out in the woods and you hear a woman screaming, whatever you do, do NOT run towards the screaming." He then turned and walked away as if he had just told me to remember to turn off the light in storage room.
I stood there stunned. I had been told several things about Steve; he is the most senior Ranger in California with 55 years experience, He has a bachelors degree biology and a PHD in ecological studies, and he has absolutely no sense of humor. By his dead serious delivery I knew this could not be a joke. Not some kind of new-guy hazing.
"How often does that happen?" I asked.
Steve looked up from his magazine, "Few times a month, if your lucky maybe you'll hear it tonight."
WTF?!!?? Why would I ignore a screaming woman? Where campers screaming for fun? Was there some cult activity in the area that was too dangerous to approach? Was this forest haunted? Was there some dark forest secret that rangers never spoke that makes us abandon screaming women?
"Steve", I asked trying to sound calm, "Wouldn't we, I mean shouldn't we call the police if that happens?"
"If what happens?"
"If women are screaming. If we hear people screaming in the forest"
Steve did not look up from his paper as he replied, "The REASON we don't run toward the screaming...is because it is the call of a mountain lion looking for a little late night action. And when said mountain lion meets you instead of a she-lion he will maul you out of sexual frustration."
"Oh" I said, starring out the window to hide my reddening face.
It was then that I heard a strange wheezing half-cough from across the room. It took a full minute to realize that Steve was laughing. Maybe he does have a sense of humor after all. | “Come on, you got this,” I said to myself, “this is your dream job.” I stood in front of the door to the Park Ranger’s Office, my hand on the knob, but for some reason I hesitated. I kept thinking about the Park Ranger that had gone missing recently, Ranger Johnson. She was highly experienced and had been working at the park for years; I remember first seeing her here when I would come as a kid. Just about a week ago, she went out on a solo night shift and never reported back to the office. The old tales about ghosts haunting the park slowly crept over me, but I quickly pushed them out of my mind and turned the knob.
As the door opened, I stepped in and peeked around. Sitting at the back desk was Senior Park Ranger Smith. He was looking down at his desk, his eyes glued to the paperwork in his hands. “Hello,” I said walking towards him, but he didn’t notice me. “Hello,” I repeated, “I’m Ranger Jones. It’s my first shift.” The Senior Park Ranger put down his paperwork and looked up at me. “Oh, hello, yes, Welcome Ranger Jones,” he said hurriedly. “My apologies, but with recent events at the park, I’ve been saddled with paperwork. I guess after being promoted to senior, you get stuck with all the boring stuff,” he chuckled. Smith shuffled the papers into a neat pile and put them into a file in the top drawer of the desk. “Come on, let’s go,” he said as he stood up and led the way back outside.
We stood under the night sky with only light from the moon and the stars above as Smith locked the office door. I took a glimpse of Smith as we stood there. He was a tall and imposing figure with a strong voice. I felt safe knowing that we would work the shift together. The door locked with a click and he faced me. “We’ve got our walkie-talkies and flashlights in case we need ‘em,” Smith gestured to his belt. “Yep!” I said, excited to begin. “One last thing,” Smith said, lowering his voice. “I know you’ve heard about the recent disappearance here, but I’ve been working with the local police and it looks like Ranger Johnson was spending time with shady characters. It had nothing to do with the park. There’s nothing to worry about.” “Oh yeah, of course,” I said hastily, not wanting to look upset, though I was shocked to hear that about Johnson.
“But,” Smith paused, “but, if you are out in the woods and you hear a woman screaming, whatever you do, do NOT run towards the screaming." “Huh?” I replied confused. “There have been reports of loud sounds out in the woods, sounds like someone screaming, by the old abandoned ranger cabin. I’ve investigated myself, and there’s nothing there, but it’s pretty dangerous and I don’t want anyone to get hurt. It’s actually been blocked off for a while now.” “Thanks for the heads up,” I smiled, appreciating the warning. “Ok, now let’s go,” Smith said.
We started walking, both quiet as we listened to the sounds of the night. Yet, nothing eventful had happened after walking for over a mile. “You expected more of an adventure, huh,” Smith laughed. He was right, but I also enjoyed the calm and quiet. Smith’s walkie-talkie beeped. “Smith, do you hear me? It’s Williams. Park maintenance needs to borrow some of the spare lights, meet them at the office and unlock the door for them, they don’t have the new keys yet,” the fuzzy voice ordered. “On it,” Smith replied.
Smith looked at me, “Hey, I’m going to take care of this. Why don’t you finish this section and meet me back at the office in about two hours. This should be a slow night and you seem to have gotten the hang of it.” “Sounds good,” I replied, eager to lead my first solo shift. Smith walked back to the office and I listened to his footsteps until all I could hear was the nothingness of the night. I kept walking for some time and realized I was approaching the area with the old abandoned ranger cabin. Smith’s words echoed in my head. But emboldened by my first solo shift, I decided to check the area out.
I walked toward the old office, listening for any strange noises. The old ghost tales tiptoed back into my thoughts. The stories say that a young woman was killed here a long time ago and her ghost still haunts the area. “Oh come on,” I quickly thought, “you’re a Park Ranger. Don’t be ridiculous.” I kept on walking, and as I got closer to the area, I started to hear the sounds. I stopped for a moment. It sounded like a faint scream. “It just must be animals or something,” I reassured myself, “and Smith already checked the area and said there was nothing there.” Determined, I continued to the old office.
But the sound of the screams only got louder and louder. “That can’t just be an animal,” I worried, “that sounds like a human scream.” I started to hesitate. “Smith did say the area was dangerous, maybe I should head back.” I began to turn around, but stopped. The screams sounded too real. “Why?” I asked myself, as I instantly turned back to the old office, taking quicker steps. The screams kept getting louder. I started jogging, before I knew it, I was in a full on sprint and slammed into the front door of the old abandoned office. The screams were undeniable now. I tried opening the door, but it wouldn’t budge. I took a few paces back and slammed into the door repeatedly, until the worn door busted open.
I practically fell inside. The screams were now all around me, but the room was too dark and I could barely see. I spun around in a haze. I reached onto the side of my belt and pulled out my flashlight, turning it on and flashing it around the room. Still no one, but the screams were so intense. Then I noticed another door. I placed my hand on the knob and could feel the vibrations of the screams through the door. I frantically tried to open it, but it wouldn’t budge. “Damn!” I thought. I tried slamming into the door a few times, but this door was sturdier than the first. I scrambled, hysterically slamming the back end of my flashlight into the door. Finally, the door opened with a loud bang and I stumbled in. The screams surrounded me.
I pointed my flashlight to the center of the room and my eyes adjusted. “Holy shit!” I screamed, “Ranger Johnson!” Johnson stopped screaming and looked at me, her face panicked. “Oh thank goodness,” she cried loudly, “oh thank heavens.” Her hands and ankles were cuffed to a chair, which was bolted to the ground. I ran to her and started to fiddle with the cuffs. “Oh I didn’t think anyone would find me,” she bawled. “Do you know where the keys are?” I asked, unable to loosen the cuffs. She was crying and her body was shaking as much as it could in the restraints. “Come on, where are the keys,” I shouted. “He…he…he has them,” she managed to get out through loud cries. “Who?” I asked. But then it hit me. I turned around and pointed my light toward the door. Smith. | |
[WP]It's your first night on the job as a Park Ranger. Your partner gives you one last piece of advice before you start your first night shift together "If you are out in the woods and you hear a woman screaming, whatever you do, do NOT run towards the screaming." | "Why not?" I asked him. "Who else would go help her?"
"Let me finish." He wiped snot from his mustache onto his glove. "I'm not messing around with you just because you're a rookie. I'm actually not supposed to be talking about this. I could lose my job." His voice sank. "But you damn well better listen to me. I'm risking my job for your own good. If you hear a woman screaming out in those woods, you leave it the hell alone."
He looked back to the trail and quickened his pace. Midwinter in the upper Cowichan area called for snow most nights, especially in these hills. And snowing it was. Each footstep crunched as it left its mark on the white ground. I quickened my pace to keep up with him. Crystals froze from my breath each time I puffed.
"The devil knows why a woman would be out here in these woods this time of night at this time of year anyhow."
I chuckled. "So you're telling me that if I hear someone -- a woman, not a man, a woman screaming for help, I should just ignore it? Not just ignore it actually, but run away?" We had a long night ahead of us so I figured I would play along with his little story.
"Yes."
"So if I hear a woman screaming 'Help! Help! I'm Lost!' I should just run away? And why do you think that's the best course of action?" I smiled, which seemed to irritate him deeply, but only for a moment before he continued. This old man was persistent.
"Ok, fine. If she's saying words and calling for help, we'll go help her, just like if it's a man." his face shrunk. "But if you hear a scream, like a blood boiling, banshee howl right out of hell, you run away."
"Why? You telling me there's a cougar out here in the woods that screams like a woman?" I laughed.
"This ain't no goddamn mountain lion scream I'm talking about! It's a woman. A demon. Same thing sometimes." He did not laugh, just continued calmly. "I've only ever heard it once, kid, but it's a scream, not a cry or a yell. If we hear a man or a woman yell, we'll go together, slowly and tactfully. No rushing in. That's one more thing -- never lose sight of me. I know it's grade one safety but it's true." His tone was still serious. "Funny things happen with equipment out here at night sometimes. They fail when they shouldn't. The only time you lose sight of me is if I go chasing that scream like a madman, in which case you get backup."
"Wait, so you can chase screams but I can't? That doesn't sound fair." I mocked him.
"Listen," he stopped walking. "Last time I heard it -- the only time I heard it -- my partner was killed. I don't care what nobody else says, I know he didn't do it. I knew the man for eleven years, goddamnit! Eleven years! There's no way in a frozen hell he'd do that to himself!" He rubbed his forehead, looked up and sighed. Taking small steps forward again, he crossed his arms and stared at the ground ahead. "I'm sorry, I just -- please,"
"No, I'm sorry. I didn't know Cook was your partner."
"Did you know Cook?"
"No. I just heard about him, about what happened." I felt bad for mocking him earlier, but couldn't be sure if he was messing with me.
"Please don't mention this conversation to anyone. They told me I needed to stop talking about it, about the scream. The union said they would have to suspend my job pending an investigation into my mental state if I kept bringing it up." He pointed his finger at his head.
"Wait, so you are being serious right now?" My heart quickened. He would have to be taking this pretty far if it were still a joke. "What happened? You heard a scream, your partner died, and now you can't talk about it?"
He cleared his throat and looked up. "Well, would you look at that? a full moon” It had stopped snowing and the moon hovered bright and clear.
“We were out here on this same hill, about four kilometers down the North-East tree line over there when we heard the scream." He paused. "Cook took off from the trail and into the woods like an animal, gun in his hand. I tried to radio him to tell him to hold on a minute. Slow down. What about devising a plan, and contacting HQ? The terrain at nighttime alone is dangerous enough. But, wouldn't you know it, my radio died. Not even two months old. I'd put fresh batteries in that morning, too. I remember.” He looked into my eyes to see if I believed him. I nodded, whether or not I actually believed him at the time, I cannot say. “So, he's gone. Now do I go back down the trail to get more help? Or do I go after him? What would you do, kid?"
"I'd go after him." I said, knowing this was my cue to prompt the next part of his story.
"I followed his steps for exactly three-point-three kilometers from the trail, as the crow flies. Many days I wish I just went back for assistance instead of chasing him. It's not a pretty sight to walk upon the aftermath of a man blowing his own brains out in the snow, though the cold does slow the bleeding a little bit. It was a full moon that night too. I know that ‘cause I remember seeing the full circle of the moon in his puddle of blood. A head wound bleeds a lot, even in the cold."
That suicide happened so long ago I'd nearly forgotten about it. My friend Pete had written about it in the school paper. A park ranger named Austin Cook took his own life in the Valley while on duty. The whispers in town spoke of his wife leaving him and taking the kids, of how he'd probably suffered a quiet depression.
"Depression and suicide are more common than most people realize," I said.
"Cook wasn't depressed. I knew that man. Something called him into the woods and --" He paused and shook his head. "No way in hell Cook was the type to take his own life, not then. Bitter, yes. Angry, yes. Depressed, no. He had a clean court case stacked against his ex-wife to get possession of his kids back. He had a strong will to live for that reason. What kind of man would take his own life at a time like that? At work and in uniform nonetheless? "
The armchair psychologist in me stirred. "Suicidal depression is often hidden in plain sight. It can affect the most stable, successful, seemingly happy people with loving families. And I don't know about other places, but wasn't Cook the fifth ranger to take his own life in this Valley on the job? I remember my friend Pete wrote an article about --" He put his arm out to my chest and barred my path
"What did you just say?"
“I wonder if there is some psychological link between being a ranger and –“
“Hey! What did you just say?”
His tone made me uncomfortable. This conversation, or joke, whatever it was, had gone too far.
Sourly, I spoke. “I said, my friend Pete wrote an article about -- “
“I don’t give a rat’s ass about your friend Pete! You say he was the fifth ranger to take his own life in this valley?” He bent over and sighed. “I only knew about one other than Cook. Three more now..."
“What did you hear?”
“It was Cook's first partner. When Cook was a rookie.”
-------------
(Continued)
| “Come on, you got this,” I said to myself, “this is your dream job.” I stood in front of the door to the Park Ranger’s Office, my hand on the knob, but for some reason I hesitated. I kept thinking about the Park Ranger that had gone missing recently, Ranger Johnson. She was highly experienced and had been working at the park for years; I remember first seeing her here when I would come as a kid. Just about a week ago, she went out on a solo night shift and never reported back to the office. The old tales about ghosts haunting the park slowly crept over me, but I quickly pushed them out of my mind and turned the knob.
As the door opened, I stepped in and peeked around. Sitting at the back desk was Senior Park Ranger Smith. He was looking down at his desk, his eyes glued to the paperwork in his hands. “Hello,” I said walking towards him, but he didn’t notice me. “Hello,” I repeated, “I’m Ranger Jones. It’s my first shift.” The Senior Park Ranger put down his paperwork and looked up at me. “Oh, hello, yes, Welcome Ranger Jones,” he said hurriedly. “My apologies, but with recent events at the park, I’ve been saddled with paperwork. I guess after being promoted to senior, you get stuck with all the boring stuff,” he chuckled. Smith shuffled the papers into a neat pile and put them into a file in the top drawer of the desk. “Come on, let’s go,” he said as he stood up and led the way back outside.
We stood under the night sky with only light from the moon and the stars above as Smith locked the office door. I took a glimpse of Smith as we stood there. He was a tall and imposing figure with a strong voice. I felt safe knowing that we would work the shift together. The door locked with a click and he faced me. “We’ve got our walkie-talkies and flashlights in case we need ‘em,” Smith gestured to his belt. “Yep!” I said, excited to begin. “One last thing,” Smith said, lowering his voice. “I know you’ve heard about the recent disappearance here, but I’ve been working with the local police and it looks like Ranger Johnson was spending time with shady characters. It had nothing to do with the park. There’s nothing to worry about.” “Oh yeah, of course,” I said hastily, not wanting to look upset, though I was shocked to hear that about Johnson.
“But,” Smith paused, “but, if you are out in the woods and you hear a woman screaming, whatever you do, do NOT run towards the screaming." “Huh?” I replied confused. “There have been reports of loud sounds out in the woods, sounds like someone screaming, by the old abandoned ranger cabin. I’ve investigated myself, and there’s nothing there, but it’s pretty dangerous and I don’t want anyone to get hurt. It’s actually been blocked off for a while now.” “Thanks for the heads up,” I smiled, appreciating the warning. “Ok, now let’s go,” Smith said.
We started walking, both quiet as we listened to the sounds of the night. Yet, nothing eventful had happened after walking for over a mile. “You expected more of an adventure, huh,” Smith laughed. He was right, but I also enjoyed the calm and quiet. Smith’s walkie-talkie beeped. “Smith, do you hear me? It’s Williams. Park maintenance needs to borrow some of the spare lights, meet them at the office and unlock the door for them, they don’t have the new keys yet,” the fuzzy voice ordered. “On it,” Smith replied.
Smith looked at me, “Hey, I’m going to take care of this. Why don’t you finish this section and meet me back at the office in about two hours. This should be a slow night and you seem to have gotten the hang of it.” “Sounds good,” I replied, eager to lead my first solo shift. Smith walked back to the office and I listened to his footsteps until all I could hear was the nothingness of the night. I kept walking for some time and realized I was approaching the area with the old abandoned ranger cabin. Smith’s words echoed in my head. But emboldened by my first solo shift, I decided to check the area out.
I walked toward the old office, listening for any strange noises. The old ghost tales tiptoed back into my thoughts. The stories say that a young woman was killed here a long time ago and her ghost still haunts the area. “Oh come on,” I quickly thought, “you’re a Park Ranger. Don’t be ridiculous.” I kept on walking, and as I got closer to the area, I started to hear the sounds. I stopped for a moment. It sounded like a faint scream. “It just must be animals or something,” I reassured myself, “and Smith already checked the area and said there was nothing there.” Determined, I continued to the old office.
But the sound of the screams only got louder and louder. “That can’t just be an animal,” I worried, “that sounds like a human scream.” I started to hesitate. “Smith did say the area was dangerous, maybe I should head back.” I began to turn around, but stopped. The screams sounded too real. “Why?” I asked myself, as I instantly turned back to the old office, taking quicker steps. The screams kept getting louder. I started jogging, before I knew it, I was in a full on sprint and slammed into the front door of the old abandoned office. The screams were undeniable now. I tried opening the door, but it wouldn’t budge. I took a few paces back and slammed into the door repeatedly, until the worn door busted open.
I practically fell inside. The screams were now all around me, but the room was too dark and I could barely see. I spun around in a haze. I reached onto the side of my belt and pulled out my flashlight, turning it on and flashing it around the room. Still no one, but the screams were so intense. Then I noticed another door. I placed my hand on the knob and could feel the vibrations of the screams through the door. I frantically tried to open it, but it wouldn’t budge. “Damn!” I thought. I tried slamming into the door a few times, but this door was sturdier than the first. I scrambled, hysterically slamming the back end of my flashlight into the door. Finally, the door opened with a loud bang and I stumbled in. The screams surrounded me.
I pointed my flashlight to the center of the room and my eyes adjusted. “Holy shit!” I screamed, “Ranger Johnson!” Johnson stopped screaming and looked at me, her face panicked. “Oh thank goodness,” she cried loudly, “oh thank heavens.” Her hands and ankles were cuffed to a chair, which was bolted to the ground. I ran to her and started to fiddle with the cuffs. “Oh I didn’t think anyone would find me,” she bawled. “Do you know where the keys are?” I asked, unable to loosen the cuffs. She was crying and her body was shaking as much as it could in the restraints. “Come on, where are the keys,” I shouted. “He…he…he has them,” she managed to get out through loud cries. “Who?” I asked. But then it hit me. I turned around and pointed my light toward the door. Smith. | |
[WP]It's your first night on the job as a Park Ranger. Your partner gives you one last piece of advice before you start your first night shift together "If you are out in the woods and you hear a woman screaming, whatever you do, do NOT run towards the screaming." | "Why not?" I asked him. "Who else would go help her?"
"Let me finish." He wiped snot from his mustache onto his glove. "I'm not messing around with you just because you're a rookie. I'm actually not supposed to be talking about this. I could lose my job." His voice sank. "But you damn well better listen to me. I'm risking my job for your own good. If you hear a woman screaming out in those woods, you leave it the hell alone."
He looked back to the trail and quickened his pace. Midwinter in the upper Cowichan area called for snow most nights, especially in these hills. And snowing it was. Each footstep crunched as it left its mark on the white ground. I quickened my pace to keep up with him. Crystals froze from my breath each time I puffed.
"The devil knows why a woman would be out here in these woods this time of night at this time of year anyhow."
I chuckled. "So you're telling me that if I hear someone -- a woman, not a man, a woman screaming for help, I should just ignore it? Not just ignore it actually, but run away?" We had a long night ahead of us so I figured I would play along with his little story.
"Yes."
"So if I hear a woman screaming 'Help! Help! I'm Lost!' I should just run away? And why do you think that's the best course of action?" I smiled, which seemed to irritate him deeply, but only for a moment before he continued. This old man was persistent.
"Ok, fine. If she's saying words and calling for help, we'll go help her, just like if it's a man." his face shrunk. "But if you hear a scream, like a blood boiling, banshee howl right out of hell, you run away."
"Why? You telling me there's a cougar out here in the woods that screams like a woman?" I laughed.
"This ain't no goddamn mountain lion scream I'm talking about! It's a woman. A demon. Same thing sometimes." He did not laugh, just continued calmly. "I've only ever heard it once, kid, but it's a scream, not a cry or a yell. If we hear a man or a woman yell, we'll go together, slowly and tactfully. No rushing in. That's one more thing -- never lose sight of me. I know it's grade one safety but it's true." His tone was still serious. "Funny things happen with equipment out here at night sometimes. They fail when they shouldn't. The only time you lose sight of me is if I go chasing that scream like a madman, in which case you get backup."
"Wait, so you can chase screams but I can't? That doesn't sound fair." I mocked him.
"Listen," he stopped walking. "Last time I heard it -- the only time I heard it -- my partner was killed. I don't care what nobody else says, I know he didn't do it. I knew the man for eleven years, goddamnit! Eleven years! There's no way in a frozen hell he'd do that to himself!" He rubbed his forehead, looked up and sighed. Taking small steps forward again, he crossed his arms and stared at the ground ahead. "I'm sorry, I just -- please,"
"No, I'm sorry. I didn't know Cook was your partner."
"Did you know Cook?"
"No. I just heard about him, about what happened." I felt bad for mocking him earlier, but couldn't be sure if he was messing with me.
"Please don't mention this conversation to anyone. They told me I needed to stop talking about it, about the scream. The union said they would have to suspend my job pending an investigation into my mental state if I kept bringing it up." He pointed his finger at his head.
"Wait, so you are being serious right now?" My heart quickened. He would have to be taking this pretty far if it were still a joke. "What happened? You heard a scream, your partner died, and now you can't talk about it?"
He cleared his throat and looked up. "Well, would you look at that? a full moon” It had stopped snowing and the moon hovered bright and clear.
“We were out here on this same hill, about four kilometers down the North-East tree line over there when we heard the scream." He paused. "Cook took off from the trail and into the woods like an animal, gun in his hand. I tried to radio him to tell him to hold on a minute. Slow down. What about devising a plan, and contacting HQ? The terrain at nighttime alone is dangerous enough. But, wouldn't you know it, my radio died. Not even two months old. I'd put fresh batteries in that morning, too. I remember.” He looked into my eyes to see if I believed him. I nodded, whether or not I actually believed him at the time, I cannot say. “So, he's gone. Now do I go back down the trail to get more help? Or do I go after him? What would you do, kid?"
"I'd go after him." I said, knowing this was my cue to prompt the next part of his story.
"I followed his steps for exactly three-point-three kilometers from the trail, as the crow flies. Many days I wish I just went back for assistance instead of chasing him. It's not a pretty sight to walk upon the aftermath of a man blowing his own brains out in the snow, though the cold does slow the bleeding a little bit. It was a full moon that night too. I know that ‘cause I remember seeing the full circle of the moon in his puddle of blood. A head wound bleeds a lot, even in the cold."
That suicide happened so long ago I'd nearly forgotten about it. My friend Pete had written about it in the school paper. A park ranger named Austin Cook took his own life in the Valley while on duty. The whispers in town spoke of his wife leaving him and taking the kids, of how he'd probably suffered a quiet depression.
"Depression and suicide are more common than most people realize," I said.
"Cook wasn't depressed. I knew that man. Something called him into the woods and --" He paused and shook his head. "No way in hell Cook was the type to take his own life, not then. Bitter, yes. Angry, yes. Depressed, no. He had a clean court case stacked against his ex-wife to get possession of his kids back. He had a strong will to live for that reason. What kind of man would take his own life at a time like that? At work and in uniform nonetheless? "
The armchair psychologist in me stirred. "Suicidal depression is often hidden in plain sight. It can affect the most stable, successful, seemingly happy people with loving families. And I don't know about other places, but wasn't Cook the fifth ranger to take his own life in this Valley on the job? I remember my friend Pete wrote an article about --" He put his arm out to my chest and barred my path
"What did you just say?"
“I wonder if there is some psychological link between being a ranger and –“
“Hey! What did you just say?”
His tone made me uncomfortable. This conversation, or joke, whatever it was, had gone too far.
Sourly, I spoke. “I said, my friend Pete wrote an article about -- “
“I don’t give a rat’s ass about your friend Pete! You say he was the fifth ranger to take his own life in this valley?” He bent over and sighed. “I only knew about one other than Cook. Three more now..."
“What did you hear?”
“It was Cook's first partner. When Cook was a rookie.”
-------------
(Continued)
| It was my first night on the job as a Park Ranger. My partner Steve gave me one last piece of advice before I started my first night shift with him.
"If you are out in the woods and you hear a woman screaming, whatever you do, do NOT run towards the screaming." He then turned and walked away as if he had just told me to remember to turn off the light in storage room.
I stood there stunned. I had been told several things about Steve; he is the most senior Ranger in California with 55 years experience, He has a bachelors degree biology and a PHD in ecological studies, and he has absolutely no sense of humor. By his dead serious delivery I knew this could not be a joke. Not some kind of new-guy hazing.
"How often does that happen?" I asked.
Steve looked up from his magazine, "Few times a month, if your lucky maybe you'll hear it tonight."
WTF?!!?? Why would I ignore a screaming woman? Where campers screaming for fun? Was there some cult activity in the area that was too dangerous to approach? Was this forest haunted? Was there some dark forest secret that rangers never spoke that makes us abandon screaming women?
"Steve", I asked trying to sound calm, "Wouldn't we, I mean shouldn't we call the police if that happens?"
"If what happens?"
"If women are screaming. If we hear people screaming in the forest"
Steve did not look up from his paper as he replied, "The REASON we don't run toward the screaming...is because it is the call of a mountain lion looking for a little late night action. And when said mountain lion meets you instead of a she-lion he will maul you out of sexual frustration."
"Oh" I said, starring out the window to hide my reddening face.
It was then that I heard a strange wheezing half-cough from across the room. It took a full minute to realize that Steve was laughing. Maybe he does have a sense of humor after all. | |
[WP]It's your first night on the job as a Park Ranger. Your partner gives you one last piece of advice before you start your first night shift together "If you are out in the woods and you hear a woman screaming, whatever you do, do NOT run towards the screaming." | "Why not?" I asked him. "Who else would go help her?"
"Let me finish." He wiped snot from his mustache onto his glove. "I'm not messing around with you just because you're a rookie. I'm actually not supposed to be talking about this. I could lose my job." His voice sank. "But you damn well better listen to me. I'm risking my job for your own good. If you hear a woman screaming out in those woods, you leave it the hell alone."
He looked back to the trail and quickened his pace. Midwinter in the upper Cowichan area called for snow most nights, especially in these hills. And snowing it was. Each footstep crunched as it left its mark on the white ground. I quickened my pace to keep up with him. Crystals froze from my breath each time I puffed.
"The devil knows why a woman would be out here in these woods this time of night at this time of year anyhow."
I chuckled. "So you're telling me that if I hear someone -- a woman, not a man, a woman screaming for help, I should just ignore it? Not just ignore it actually, but run away?" We had a long night ahead of us so I figured I would play along with his little story.
"Yes."
"So if I hear a woman screaming 'Help! Help! I'm Lost!' I should just run away? And why do you think that's the best course of action?" I smiled, which seemed to irritate him deeply, but only for a moment before he continued. This old man was persistent.
"Ok, fine. If she's saying words and calling for help, we'll go help her, just like if it's a man." his face shrunk. "But if you hear a scream, like a blood boiling, banshee howl right out of hell, you run away."
"Why? You telling me there's a cougar out here in the woods that screams like a woman?" I laughed.
"This ain't no goddamn mountain lion scream I'm talking about! It's a woman. A demon. Same thing sometimes." He did not laugh, just continued calmly. "I've only ever heard it once, kid, but it's a scream, not a cry or a yell. If we hear a man or a woman yell, we'll go together, slowly and tactfully. No rushing in. That's one more thing -- never lose sight of me. I know it's grade one safety but it's true." His tone was still serious. "Funny things happen with equipment out here at night sometimes. They fail when they shouldn't. The only time you lose sight of me is if I go chasing that scream like a madman, in which case you get backup."
"Wait, so you can chase screams but I can't? That doesn't sound fair." I mocked him.
"Listen," he stopped walking. "Last time I heard it -- the only time I heard it -- my partner was killed. I don't care what nobody else says, I know he didn't do it. I knew the man for eleven years, goddamnit! Eleven years! There's no way in a frozen hell he'd do that to himself!" He rubbed his forehead, looked up and sighed. Taking small steps forward again, he crossed his arms and stared at the ground ahead. "I'm sorry, I just -- please,"
"No, I'm sorry. I didn't know Cook was your partner."
"Did you know Cook?"
"No. I just heard about him, about what happened." I felt bad for mocking him earlier, but couldn't be sure if he was messing with me.
"Please don't mention this conversation to anyone. They told me I needed to stop talking about it, about the scream. The union said they would have to suspend my job pending an investigation into my mental state if I kept bringing it up." He pointed his finger at his head.
"Wait, so you are being serious right now?" My heart quickened. He would have to be taking this pretty far if it were still a joke. "What happened? You heard a scream, your partner died, and now you can't talk about it?"
He cleared his throat and looked up. "Well, would you look at that? a full moon” It had stopped snowing and the moon hovered bright and clear.
“We were out here on this same hill, about four kilometers down the North-East tree line over there when we heard the scream." He paused. "Cook took off from the trail and into the woods like an animal, gun in his hand. I tried to radio him to tell him to hold on a minute. Slow down. What about devising a plan, and contacting HQ? The terrain at nighttime alone is dangerous enough. But, wouldn't you know it, my radio died. Not even two months old. I'd put fresh batteries in that morning, too. I remember.” He looked into my eyes to see if I believed him. I nodded, whether or not I actually believed him at the time, I cannot say. “So, he's gone. Now do I go back down the trail to get more help? Or do I go after him? What would you do, kid?"
"I'd go after him." I said, knowing this was my cue to prompt the next part of his story.
"I followed his steps for exactly three-point-three kilometers from the trail, as the crow flies. Many days I wish I just went back for assistance instead of chasing him. It's not a pretty sight to walk upon the aftermath of a man blowing his own brains out in the snow, though the cold does slow the bleeding a little bit. It was a full moon that night too. I know that ‘cause I remember seeing the full circle of the moon in his puddle of blood. A head wound bleeds a lot, even in the cold."
That suicide happened so long ago I'd nearly forgotten about it. My friend Pete had written about it in the school paper. A park ranger named Austin Cook took his own life in the Valley while on duty. The whispers in town spoke of his wife leaving him and taking the kids, of how he'd probably suffered a quiet depression.
"Depression and suicide are more common than most people realize," I said.
"Cook wasn't depressed. I knew that man. Something called him into the woods and --" He paused and shook his head. "No way in hell Cook was the type to take his own life, not then. Bitter, yes. Angry, yes. Depressed, no. He had a clean court case stacked against his ex-wife to get possession of his kids back. He had a strong will to live for that reason. What kind of man would take his own life at a time like that? At work and in uniform nonetheless? "
The armchair psychologist in me stirred. "Suicidal depression is often hidden in plain sight. It can affect the most stable, successful, seemingly happy people with loving families. And I don't know about other places, but wasn't Cook the fifth ranger to take his own life in this Valley on the job? I remember my friend Pete wrote an article about --" He put his arm out to my chest and barred my path
"What did you just say?"
“I wonder if there is some psychological link between being a ranger and –“
“Hey! What did you just say?”
His tone made me uncomfortable. This conversation, or joke, whatever it was, had gone too far.
Sourly, I spoke. “I said, my friend Pete wrote an article about -- “
“I don’t give a rat’s ass about your friend Pete! You say he was the fifth ranger to take his own life in this valley?” He bent over and sighed. “I only knew about one other than Cook. Three more now..."
“What did you hear?”
“It was Cook's first partner. When Cook was a rookie.”
-------------
(Continued)
| "Well sir," Jamie started timidly, "that really doesn't do anything to assuage my concerns."
Mr. Davis gave him a hearty smack between Jamie's shoulder blades, practically lifting the young man off his feet. "It's fine, greenhorn. There's nothing out in those woods that's gonna kill you unless you give it a reason to. Now, if you are all settled in here, I am gonna make my way to my tower, it's a long drive in the Ranger and it's cold as a witch's tit to boot." He trudged over to the door, lighting a cigarette as he headed out. "Well," Mr. Davis took a slow drag, "see you in about ten hours. You stay safe now, you hear?" And with that he slammed the door shut, clomping his heavy, steel-toed way down the wooden steps of the lookout tower. Jamie let out a shaky sigh and opened his thermos of coffee. It was going to be a long night and there was no way in hell he was going to fall asleep on the job.
From what the other rangers had told Jamie, Mr. Davis would tear him a new one if he were caught napping. "Never thought I'd get the sound of furious cussing and table smacking out of my ears." chimed one of the rangers, grimacing a bit over her steaming mug. "You got off lucky, Ramirez," another ranger sneered, "he made me patrol the grounds on foot for two weeks."
"Yeah, but that's because you nearly let the forest burn down while you were plowing some college chick over in the yurts." Ramirez chided back, for which she was rewarded with a dirty look and an empty cup tossed at her.
The night so far had been pretty quiet, nothing worth reporting expect for a particularly rambunctious raccoon digging in a young couple's cooler. Jamie was starting to get a bit of cabin fever, so he decided to go out on a patrol. Grabbing the rifle off the rack and a box of bullets, he radioed Mr. Davis to fill him in before heading out into the cool night air. "Roger that," Mr. Davis crackled over the walkie, "Just be careful, alright son?" Hopping into his Ranger, little more than a specialized golf cart, Jamie turned the keys and the engine whined in protest. "Gotta be fucking kidding me..." Jamie muttered under his breath. Trying again proved to be no more successful, Jamie sighed, readjusting the rifle slung on his shoulder. "Jamie to Davis, my Ranger seems to be out of commission, any recommendations?" The radio crackled with static, but there was no response. Jamie scoffed lightly, tucking the radio on his belt and pulling out a flashlight.
The trail at night was foreboding and grim. Tall, spindly limbs stretching up to a dim horizon, a small collection of browning leaves clinging to the branches desperately against the October chill. Jamie breathed into his hands and rubbed them together, trying to fend off the cold seeping into him. As he wandered deeper into the woods, the forest got thicker and the small amount of starlight was swallowed by a mass of gnarled wood. "Jamie to Davis, do you copy, Davis?" Jamie tried his radio again, rewarded with nothing but a static crackle. He rolled his eyes and put the walkie away. As he crunched through the leaves, he stopped dead in his tracks as a shriek tore through the night air. "Oh fuck!" Jamie shouted, "Jamie to Davis, I just heard someone scream, I think it may have been a woman, please advise!" The radio yielded no answers. Another scream, clearer, more discernible; it was definitely a woman. Mr. Davis's warning rung through Jamie's mind: *If you are out in the woods and you hear a woman screaming, do NOT run towards it.* Jamie shook his head, Mr. Davis was probably messing with him. It was probably just a test for new guys on their first day to test their wits. Jamie pulled the rifle off his shoulder and pushed bullets into the magazine. "Hello, this is the Park Ranger." Jamie called out into the dark, "Are you in need of any assistance?"
"Somebody help me!" A woman screamed back. Jamie leveled his gun in the direction of the sound, taking a few tentative steps toward the source. As Jamie stepped off the trail and into the forest, he nearly doubled over from the overwhelming reek of decay. How had he not noticed it before? Taking a few seconds to regain his composure he strode further into the treeline, the path disappearing behind him. "Hello?" he called out again, shivering, part from the cold, mostly from the encroaching dread that made it's way into his senses. "Somebody!" the woman cried, "Anybody, please, help me!" As Jamie pressed on, the woods began to thin out, revealing a well-worn campsite, a pair of tents stood alone by a small stone fire pit. Sitting in a camp chair by the unlit pit was a woman. She had long graying hair that could very well reach to her ankles, were she standing, her skin pale in the glow of the flashlight. "Hello, ma'am?" Jamie called to the woman, approaching cautiously. "Oh thank heavens you're here!" The woman said, not moving from her chair. "You see, my daughter and I were camping out here and we couldn't find our way back to the main path. The woods, they'll play tricks on you." Jamie lowered his rifle and approached the woman, "I can help you back to the main office if you'd like." As he drew in closer, something hard and brittle crunched under his feet. Turning the flashlight to the ground, Jamie could see bones. The ground all around the woman's chair was piled with them. "It's been sooooo long since anyone's come by. I was getting so very hungry." Jamie tried to back off, leveling his gun at the woman, but he was too slow. A clawed hand pierced through his belly and his legs went numb. He crumpled to the ground like a puppet with his strings cut. "I'll make sure to make you last as long as I can." The woman batted the rifle from Jamie's trembling hands. The radio on Jamie's belt sputtered weakly. "... the hell are... Jaime! Told you... stay away..." Then the radio fell silent. The woman tutted softly, "Should have listened to your superior, Jamie, my child. That old codger Davis lived to be his age by being smart. I lived even longer because I am smarter. You? You won't even see the sunrise." Jamie tried to protest, but before he could form words, the woman sank her teeth into his throat. | |
[WP]It's your first night on the job as a Park Ranger. Your partner gives you one last piece of advice before you start your first night shift together "If you are out in the woods and you hear a woman screaming, whatever you do, do NOT run towards the screaming." | "Why not?" I asked him. "Who else would go help her?"
"Let me finish." He wiped snot from his mustache onto his glove. "I'm not messing around with you just because you're a rookie. I'm actually not supposed to be talking about this. I could lose my job." His voice sank. "But you damn well better listen to me. I'm risking my job for your own good. If you hear a woman screaming out in those woods, you leave it the hell alone."
He looked back to the trail and quickened his pace. Midwinter in the upper Cowichan area called for snow most nights, especially in these hills. And snowing it was. Each footstep crunched as it left its mark on the white ground. I quickened my pace to keep up with him. Crystals froze from my breath each time I puffed.
"The devil knows why a woman would be out here in these woods this time of night at this time of year anyhow."
I chuckled. "So you're telling me that if I hear someone -- a woman, not a man, a woman screaming for help, I should just ignore it? Not just ignore it actually, but run away?" We had a long night ahead of us so I figured I would play along with his little story.
"Yes."
"So if I hear a woman screaming 'Help! Help! I'm Lost!' I should just run away? And why do you think that's the best course of action?" I smiled, which seemed to irritate him deeply, but only for a moment before he continued. This old man was persistent.
"Ok, fine. If she's saying words and calling for help, we'll go help her, just like if it's a man." his face shrunk. "But if you hear a scream, like a blood boiling, banshee howl right out of hell, you run away."
"Why? You telling me there's a cougar out here in the woods that screams like a woman?" I laughed.
"This ain't no goddamn mountain lion scream I'm talking about! It's a woman. A demon. Same thing sometimes." He did not laugh, just continued calmly. "I've only ever heard it once, kid, but it's a scream, not a cry or a yell. If we hear a man or a woman yell, we'll go together, slowly and tactfully. No rushing in. That's one more thing -- never lose sight of me. I know it's grade one safety but it's true." His tone was still serious. "Funny things happen with equipment out here at night sometimes. They fail when they shouldn't. The only time you lose sight of me is if I go chasing that scream like a madman, in which case you get backup."
"Wait, so you can chase screams but I can't? That doesn't sound fair." I mocked him.
"Listen," he stopped walking. "Last time I heard it -- the only time I heard it -- my partner was killed. I don't care what nobody else says, I know he didn't do it. I knew the man for eleven years, goddamnit! Eleven years! There's no way in a frozen hell he'd do that to himself!" He rubbed his forehead, looked up and sighed. Taking small steps forward again, he crossed his arms and stared at the ground ahead. "I'm sorry, I just -- please,"
"No, I'm sorry. I didn't know Cook was your partner."
"Did you know Cook?"
"No. I just heard about him, about what happened." I felt bad for mocking him earlier, but couldn't be sure if he was messing with me.
"Please don't mention this conversation to anyone. They told me I needed to stop talking about it, about the scream. The union said they would have to suspend my job pending an investigation into my mental state if I kept bringing it up." He pointed his finger at his head.
"Wait, so you are being serious right now?" My heart quickened. He would have to be taking this pretty far if it were still a joke. "What happened? You heard a scream, your partner died, and now you can't talk about it?"
He cleared his throat and looked up. "Well, would you look at that? a full moon” It had stopped snowing and the moon hovered bright and clear.
“We were out here on this same hill, about four kilometers down the North-East tree line over there when we heard the scream." He paused. "Cook took off from the trail and into the woods like an animal, gun in his hand. I tried to radio him to tell him to hold on a minute. Slow down. What about devising a plan, and contacting HQ? The terrain at nighttime alone is dangerous enough. But, wouldn't you know it, my radio died. Not even two months old. I'd put fresh batteries in that morning, too. I remember.” He looked into my eyes to see if I believed him. I nodded, whether or not I actually believed him at the time, I cannot say. “So, he's gone. Now do I go back down the trail to get more help? Or do I go after him? What would you do, kid?"
"I'd go after him." I said, knowing this was my cue to prompt the next part of his story.
"I followed his steps for exactly three-point-three kilometers from the trail, as the crow flies. Many days I wish I just went back for assistance instead of chasing him. It's not a pretty sight to walk upon the aftermath of a man blowing his own brains out in the snow, though the cold does slow the bleeding a little bit. It was a full moon that night too. I know that ‘cause I remember seeing the full circle of the moon in his puddle of blood. A head wound bleeds a lot, even in the cold."
That suicide happened so long ago I'd nearly forgotten about it. My friend Pete had written about it in the school paper. A park ranger named Austin Cook took his own life in the Valley while on duty. The whispers in town spoke of his wife leaving him and taking the kids, of how he'd probably suffered a quiet depression.
"Depression and suicide are more common than most people realize," I said.
"Cook wasn't depressed. I knew that man. Something called him into the woods and --" He paused and shook his head. "No way in hell Cook was the type to take his own life, not then. Bitter, yes. Angry, yes. Depressed, no. He had a clean court case stacked against his ex-wife to get possession of his kids back. He had a strong will to live for that reason. What kind of man would take his own life at a time like that? At work and in uniform nonetheless? "
The armchair psychologist in me stirred. "Suicidal depression is often hidden in plain sight. It can affect the most stable, successful, seemingly happy people with loving families. And I don't know about other places, but wasn't Cook the fifth ranger to take his own life in this Valley on the job? I remember my friend Pete wrote an article about --" He put his arm out to my chest and barred my path
"What did you just say?"
“I wonder if there is some psychological link between being a ranger and –“
“Hey! What did you just say?”
His tone made me uncomfortable. This conversation, or joke, whatever it was, had gone too far.
Sourly, I spoke. “I said, my friend Pete wrote an article about -- “
“I don’t give a rat’s ass about your friend Pete! You say he was the fifth ranger to take his own life in this valley?” He bent over and sighed. “I only knew about one other than Cook. Three more now..."
“What did you hear?”
“It was Cook's first partner. When Cook was a rookie.”
-------------
(Continued)
| "Oh! Uh, I remember taking a superactivity course.. uh.. during my undergrad... yea. I guess it could be a person in danger, but -uh. Shouldn't we help- well.. I'll keep my calm..and I'll listen to you. Promise." Stuttering, I follow Raphael out towards the shed. I really had learned a lot at my university. I never mastered confidence, though. I suppose testing out of speech courses had drawbacks. We walk under the open canopy that is our shed. Inside is a dozen ATVs. Only three of them are operable, but nine carcasses were present. Dayshift is supposed to take care of wounded vehicles and animals. Nightshift is supposed to take care of wounded people. Recently there seems to have been a surplus of wounded outdoorsfolk. Dayshiftters have been forced to float over to nightshift to compensate. I was even hired at a better salary than I could have ever hoped for with my degree. The turnover rate is not the best statistic the department has going for them.
A flash of white between bristles of peppered grey told me Raphael was trying to make light of something he had said with all seriousness. "I trust that you know more than even an old-timer like me knows. Heck, you might try teaching me a thing or to, if your keen to!" As he pumpstarted the old ATV. It sputtered to life. I began to climb onto the red medical ATV, but Raphael stopped me. "Rookies don't get their own vehicles." Sheepishly, I quickly hopped onto his vehicle. We rode off without speaking. I recall during the briefing they mentioned we were only allowed to ride during short time frames, or during emergencies. They never did define who could drive. Nor did they define an emergency explicitly, now that I consider it.
We made it to one of the many trail heads before stopping. It was actually a hub of trail heads, which was ideal for us to stage an evacuation vehicle. Raphael pocketed the key, and we set off. I remember the first interview question was 'How do I feel about hiking' followed immediately by 'How do I feel about hiking afterdark.' Our job now had two objectives: enjoy the evening and wait for something to happen. We stepped off at a casual pace. "Personally, I don't go expectin' trouble. I feel like that is more encouragin' for there to be trouble, you understand?" He continued, not waiting for me to nod acknowledgment, "I just take these shifts leisurely. I like to visit in on the friendlier, more welcomin' folks. Not intrudin' or anythin' but just greetin' those who want to be greeted. Bring 'em back to our park another weekend."
Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. Further up the mount from us was a campfire blazing with warmth and conversation. Raphael hailed from a ways off and asked to join the fireside. The campsite erupted with excitement, ready to meet a new friend. Packs littered the ground, most of them parachute bags, freshly stuffed. There was a smaller pile of rock climbing gear. The pile of harnesses and ropes was noticeably disproportionate to the attendees of this gathering. A gathering which had frozen in time as Raphael and I stepped into the firelight. Two park rangers just walked up on half a dozen people actively ready to defy park rules. The only sound was a chink as I accidentally tripped on a metal safety device. Raphael, for his part, was looking like a bear. He inhaled, preparing to speak, and only empowering that illusion. When he exhaled, it was in laughter. Bellowing, joyous laughter erupted, followed by nervous chuckles from the throng around us. One person stood up to address us, as Raphael stopped her, "Lass, I'm not here to get on to you'ins."
"Sir, I- I know this looks really bad"
"Lass! Listen to me. You're ok. You're all-"
"Sir, I just want to apologize! This park means a lot to me, to us. And I don't want you thinking we love it any less than we do"
"Look, I believe you, and for your part, I forgive you. The rules you may or may not break endanger yourself more than the park. But let us not worry about this. Let's have a friendly conversation! That isn't against the rules!"
The campsite breathed a sigh of relief. We sat with them for a half hour. Half an hour of relaxation and casual conversation. This was a job that would grow on me rather swiftly. Unfortunately, dinner was growing swiftly in my bowels. I excused myself a ways off into the woods. Far enough to not be seem from the campsite, but for them to hear my stomping around.
I knew he was insincere. When he smiled at me on the ATV, when he comforted the campers, and when he had jokingly told me not to get lost when I walked off into the woods. He definitely underestimated me and my 'degree.' I did master a few things at university. Things like demon-hunting and botany. I love botany. Other things were engrained in me from before the university, such as protecting those around me. She screamed. It was the girl who stood up to him. I knew Raphael immediately hungered for her passion. I drew my revolver, and calmly jogged back to the campsite. He had done a swift job, I can praise him for that. Three of the party were wounded, it seemed in a single swipe from him. Their innards were forming a poor carpet. She probably panicked from seeing that or from him picking her up by her neck, strangling her. Either way, she did surprise me. She fought back, screaming and kicking. He tried placing a grossly enlarged and distended hand over her mouth to silence her. Her defiance washed out of her as she bit into that amalgous mess of flesh. His smile beamed like the darkest of nights, as he drank her emotions. It was a good protrait face for an open casket, if he would have ever gotten one. A single round knocked him unconcious. Which gave me more than enough time to perform the ten steps of dismemberment and desecration required to prevent 'Raphael' from 'bothering' any other humans. The Lass was on the ground, calming. She had even begun trying to tend to her compatriots hopeless wounds. I kneeled beside her, once I was done. "You are an admireable spirit," I say, and she turns to me, obviously shell-shocked, "You stood up to someone with easily a few hundred times your age, and well above your experience with death." She did not react despite me admitting something that could have me expelled from The Order. I wiped some blood from her lips with my thumb. Blood that was far from dry. "Hopefully the afterlife, whatever it may be, treats you well." I spend my second cartridge of the night, before her face registers. | |
[WP]It's your first night on the job as a Park Ranger. Your partner gives you one last piece of advice before you start your first night shift together "If you are out in the woods and you hear a woman screaming, whatever you do, do NOT run towards the screaming." | "Why not?" I asked him. "Who else would go help her?"
"Let me finish." He wiped snot from his mustache onto his glove. "I'm not messing around with you just because you're a rookie. I'm actually not supposed to be talking about this. I could lose my job." His voice sank. "But you damn well better listen to me. I'm risking my job for your own good. If you hear a woman screaming out in those woods, you leave it the hell alone."
He looked back to the trail and quickened his pace. Midwinter in the upper Cowichan area called for snow most nights, especially in these hills. And snowing it was. Each footstep crunched as it left its mark on the white ground. I quickened my pace to keep up with him. Crystals froze from my breath each time I puffed.
"The devil knows why a woman would be out here in these woods this time of night at this time of year anyhow."
I chuckled. "So you're telling me that if I hear someone -- a woman, not a man, a woman screaming for help, I should just ignore it? Not just ignore it actually, but run away?" We had a long night ahead of us so I figured I would play along with his little story.
"Yes."
"So if I hear a woman screaming 'Help! Help! I'm Lost!' I should just run away? And why do you think that's the best course of action?" I smiled, which seemed to irritate him deeply, but only for a moment before he continued. This old man was persistent.
"Ok, fine. If she's saying words and calling for help, we'll go help her, just like if it's a man." his face shrunk. "But if you hear a scream, like a blood boiling, banshee howl right out of hell, you run away."
"Why? You telling me there's a cougar out here in the woods that screams like a woman?" I laughed.
"This ain't no goddamn mountain lion scream I'm talking about! It's a woman. A demon. Same thing sometimes." He did not laugh, just continued calmly. "I've only ever heard it once, kid, but it's a scream, not a cry or a yell. If we hear a man or a woman yell, we'll go together, slowly and tactfully. No rushing in. That's one more thing -- never lose sight of me. I know it's grade one safety but it's true." His tone was still serious. "Funny things happen with equipment out here at night sometimes. They fail when they shouldn't. The only time you lose sight of me is if I go chasing that scream like a madman, in which case you get backup."
"Wait, so you can chase screams but I can't? That doesn't sound fair." I mocked him.
"Listen," he stopped walking. "Last time I heard it -- the only time I heard it -- my partner was killed. I don't care what nobody else says, I know he didn't do it. I knew the man for eleven years, goddamnit! Eleven years! There's no way in a frozen hell he'd do that to himself!" He rubbed his forehead, looked up and sighed. Taking small steps forward again, he crossed his arms and stared at the ground ahead. "I'm sorry, I just -- please,"
"No, I'm sorry. I didn't know Cook was your partner."
"Did you know Cook?"
"No. I just heard about him, about what happened." I felt bad for mocking him earlier, but couldn't be sure if he was messing with me.
"Please don't mention this conversation to anyone. They told me I needed to stop talking about it, about the scream. The union said they would have to suspend my job pending an investigation into my mental state if I kept bringing it up." He pointed his finger at his head.
"Wait, so you are being serious right now?" My heart quickened. He would have to be taking this pretty far if it were still a joke. "What happened? You heard a scream, your partner died, and now you can't talk about it?"
He cleared his throat and looked up. "Well, would you look at that? a full moon” It had stopped snowing and the moon hovered bright and clear.
“We were out here on this same hill, about four kilometers down the North-East tree line over there when we heard the scream." He paused. "Cook took off from the trail and into the woods like an animal, gun in his hand. I tried to radio him to tell him to hold on a minute. Slow down. What about devising a plan, and contacting HQ? The terrain at nighttime alone is dangerous enough. But, wouldn't you know it, my radio died. Not even two months old. I'd put fresh batteries in that morning, too. I remember.” He looked into my eyes to see if I believed him. I nodded, whether or not I actually believed him at the time, I cannot say. “So, he's gone. Now do I go back down the trail to get more help? Or do I go after him? What would you do, kid?"
"I'd go after him." I said, knowing this was my cue to prompt the next part of his story.
"I followed his steps for exactly three-point-three kilometers from the trail, as the crow flies. Many days I wish I just went back for assistance instead of chasing him. It's not a pretty sight to walk upon the aftermath of a man blowing his own brains out in the snow, though the cold does slow the bleeding a little bit. It was a full moon that night too. I know that ‘cause I remember seeing the full circle of the moon in his puddle of blood. A head wound bleeds a lot, even in the cold."
That suicide happened so long ago I'd nearly forgotten about it. My friend Pete had written about it in the school paper. A park ranger named Austin Cook took his own life in the Valley while on duty. The whispers in town spoke of his wife leaving him and taking the kids, of how he'd probably suffered a quiet depression.
"Depression and suicide are more common than most people realize," I said.
"Cook wasn't depressed. I knew that man. Something called him into the woods and --" He paused and shook his head. "No way in hell Cook was the type to take his own life, not then. Bitter, yes. Angry, yes. Depressed, no. He had a clean court case stacked against his ex-wife to get possession of his kids back. He had a strong will to live for that reason. What kind of man would take his own life at a time like that? At work and in uniform nonetheless? "
The armchair psychologist in me stirred. "Suicidal depression is often hidden in plain sight. It can affect the most stable, successful, seemingly happy people with loving families. And I don't know about other places, but wasn't Cook the fifth ranger to take his own life in this Valley on the job? I remember my friend Pete wrote an article about --" He put his arm out to my chest and barred my path
"What did you just say?"
“I wonder if there is some psychological link between being a ranger and –“
“Hey! What did you just say?”
His tone made me uncomfortable. This conversation, or joke, whatever it was, had gone too far.
Sourly, I spoke. “I said, my friend Pete wrote an article about -- “
“I don’t give a rat’s ass about your friend Pete! You say he was the fifth ranger to take his own life in this valley?” He bent over and sighed. “I only knew about one other than Cook. Three more now..."
“What did you hear?”
“It was Cook's first partner. When Cook was a rookie.”
-------------
(Continued)
| 'I'm sorry, what?' I looked at Bill like he had just told me grape soda was made with oranges. "I'll say it one more time." His look never changing from one of absolute concern and sincerity, like a father telling his child not to do something incredibly stupid.
"If you're patrolling in the woods and you hear a woman screaming, DO NOT run towards the screaming. That's all you need to know, good night Dave." He turned around and headed out the door, the last I saw of him was his salt and pepper hair going down the stairs. 12 am, my first shift begins on an ominous note, one that I am not appreciative of.
I'm not going to tell you it was a full moon during Friday the 13th in October, it was a Wednesday in February and the moon was barely visible in the cloudy night sky. After doing my perimeter check of the park, I proceeded to the next section of my route, the visitors center. My job was to make sure the doors were locked, I park my car by the front door, checking that I had my keys I walk towards the front door, the sounds of my shoes on gravel my only companion. I remember as a kid the visitors center was my least favorite part of the park, not because it was boring as all hell, but because of the stuffed animals they had. And every time I came here, my classmates or my brothers would tell me some twisted story about them and why they had to kill them. "This bear slaughtered dozens of kids and even some police dogs from the times they chased him down" or "That wolf used to be that pack leader of the Indians who used to own this land, they used old magic to exact revenge on the pilgrims who stole their land." they would say, hell they even told me a story of zombie beaver and I was stupid enough to believe them.
All that came flooding back to me as I stared down the bear that greeted guests by the front door inside. Standing 10 feet tall with his mouth agape didn't help my fears, I cautiously approach the door to che *SNAP RUSTLE* "What the fuck?" I quickly turned around and turned on my flashlight, my heart going a mile a minute. After what felt like forever, I'm finally content with it just being nothing or a raccoon. What I wasn't content with was that the 10 foot bear was now standing directly behind the door. I fall backwards and scramble away, the gravel provided no help in my cowardly escape. I stared at that bear directly in the eye, looking for some kind of assurance that it was indeed dead.
I pray and try to rationalize what's happened, it clearly didn't move itself, I reasoned my self into believing that the darkness made it look farther away than it was. I picked myself up and dusted off and did my job. Locked. I got in my car and drove to the last part of my night, the woods. 4 am, my shift would end in only a few hours. The dark of night was still managing to keep a hold of the park, the chilly wind picked up speed. While most kids hated the nature walks, they were always my favorite part of field trips. Always eager to learn, I memorized every info slab on the trail and the order they were in.
My old knowledge gave me confidence in my stride, knowing that the night would soon end I took my time and enjoyed my private tour of one. I then heard the fabled screaming,the crying sound of a woman, it had no words but it made my stomach drop, covering me in a cold nauseating feeling. I waited, for.... anything. Anything to tell me it was a joke or my mind playing tricks on me. I hear it again "No! Stop!" There it was again, to my left. Ignoring my predecessors orders, I charged straight towards it.
I ran over rocks and fallen branches my face being stung by hundreds of tiny thorns. I soon see a red glow, I push past some bushes and see it. A circle of candles, people in robes standing on its edges, a stone table in the middle, a naked woman chained down. A robed figure stood next to her, it held what looked like a knife, it raised it arms above it's head, ready to plunge into her, she screams.
I'm grabbed from behind and pulled away. I struggle to free my self and save her, from whatever the hell was happening. But it's of no use, my last view is of the poor woman being stabbed, her cry echoing throughout. "The hell? I thought Bill told you to stay away from the screaming." *What?* I finally see my attacker, it's John the head Ranger. 'What the fuck is going on!? Who are those people? How long has this been going on? What are you trying to.' "Shut up and let me explain." He let's go and raises his hands as a sign of peace. "So here's the thing" he starts. "Michaels wife" 'The woman who just got gutted like a fish?' "Yeah, well she's into some, let's just say non-conventional things." 'What!? So so so, you killed her?' "No no, she's not dead, just horny."
Morning comes and so does Michaels wife. Turns out, she has a cult fetish and gets "sacrificed" a couple times a month. "We didn't know how you'd react, and we didn't want to lose someone who had so much love for the park as you do." Bill says to me at the office. 'I mean, it's weird, but as long as it doesn't hurt anyone I guess it's ok." The front door opens, accompanied by the sound of heels. A woman's voice calls out. 'So there's our little pervert.' A kind faced, and very much alive, woman greets me. Hard to believe that she was screaming bloody murder just a few hours ago, or most likely ecstasy.
I try to hide my blushing face. "Once again I'd like to apologize for interrupting you all." She places a reassuring hand on my shoulder. 'Oh it's alright darling, you didn't know better. But it tells a lot about the kind of man you are. Ignoring the warnings to save someone.' She looks at Bill. 'See you at service tomorrow?' "Of course." Bill tips his hat towards her as she leaves, he takes a swig of coffee "So? What do you say? You want to keep working here?" 'Yes' I reply with a smile 'Yes I do' I grab my keys and clock out, my first shift ending. I breathe a sigh of relief, and head home to get some rest.
Criticism welcome, I'm still new at this. | |
[WP]It's your first night on the job as a Park Ranger. Your partner gives you one last piece of advice before you start your first night shift together "If you are out in the woods and you hear a woman screaming, whatever you do, do NOT run towards the screaming." | The crunching of gravel beneath my boots kept me company on my walk back to the cabin. It hadn't been a bad night. I could definitely get used to this. No claustrophobic cubicle for me anymore. Just a lovely open forest. The reds, yellows, and oranges combined into a beautiful array of colors that made me excited for Halloween.
*Kzzt*
"Hey, rookie. You almost back to base?" My partner asked me through the radio attached to my hip.
"Yeah, man. I'm almost there. Gimme 5 minutes." I told him.
"Gotcha, buddy. Be safe."
"Will do, thanks."
I took a deep breath of the fresh and crisp fall air. It chilled my chest as I inhaled. I couldn't wait to get a fresh cup of coffee, to warm me up. Nothing like a nice hot cup, on a night like this. I approached the two big trees adjacent to each other. The one on the left was slightly taller. We used it as a landmark to help us navigate. As I walked by them, I heard a faint and weak sniffle.
I shone my light underneath the tree and illuminated a young girl.
She was sobbing.
"Hey, it's going to be okay. I'm a Park Ranger. I can take you to your parents." I held out my hand and slowly approached her.
The poor little girl's clothes were in tatters. Her chest was soaked from her tears. At first she hesitated and turned away. I showed her my badge, and she started to come towards me. I knelt down to scoop her up. Right before she reached me, I heard a soft woman's voice.
"Come to me, honey. I'll take you home."
The voice startled me and I turned to her, she was standing on a rock. She was beautiful, and in a pearl white dress with no scuffs or dirt marks. Her hair was blonde.
"No, sweetie. Come to me, I'm a Park Ranger." I told the little girl.
I looked at the woman and said "Ma'am, I don't know who you are, or why the hell you're out here but you both need to come with me."
"That's it honey, come to me." She said.
While my attention was on the woman, the little girl ran toward her.
I walked towards them both.
"Don't take another step, filth." The woman told me. Her soft voice was now replaced with a scratchy growl.
"I'm taking her home." She said.
I pulled my gun out and just as I did she screamed. Her jaw unhinged like a snake.
She screamed so loud my ears rang and my eyes blurred. It was louder than a gunshot. I shook my head, and closed my ears.
I looked up at the rock, vision still blurred but they were both gone.
*kzzt*
"Did I hear what I just think I heard?" My partner asked me in a nervous yet firm voice.
"Yeah, you did."
"Don't even fucking think about going after her." He said in a somber and straight tone.
"She took a little girl."
"Oh.... Shit. Get the fuck out of there, and head for the cabin. Do you hear me? I'll meet you halfway."
"Ok."
I clutched my gun so tightly my knuckles turned white, and I ran. | 'I'm sorry, what?' I looked at Bill like he had just told me grape soda was made with oranges. "I'll say it one more time." His look never changing from one of absolute concern and sincerity, like a father telling his child not to do something incredibly stupid.
"If you're patrolling in the woods and you hear a woman screaming, DO NOT run towards the screaming. That's all you need to know, good night Dave." He turned around and headed out the door, the last I saw of him was his salt and pepper hair going down the stairs. 12 am, my first shift begins on an ominous note, one that I am not appreciative of.
I'm not going to tell you it was a full moon during Friday the 13th in October, it was a Wednesday in February and the moon was barely visible in the cloudy night sky. After doing my perimeter check of the park, I proceeded to the next section of my route, the visitors center. My job was to make sure the doors were locked, I park my car by the front door, checking that I had my keys I walk towards the front door, the sounds of my shoes on gravel my only companion. I remember as a kid the visitors center was my least favorite part of the park, not because it was boring as all hell, but because of the stuffed animals they had. And every time I came here, my classmates or my brothers would tell me some twisted story about them and why they had to kill them. "This bear slaughtered dozens of kids and even some police dogs from the times they chased him down" or "That wolf used to be that pack leader of the Indians who used to own this land, they used old magic to exact revenge on the pilgrims who stole their land." they would say, hell they even told me a story of zombie beaver and I was stupid enough to believe them.
All that came flooding back to me as I stared down the bear that greeted guests by the front door inside. Standing 10 feet tall with his mouth agape didn't help my fears, I cautiously approach the door to che *SNAP RUSTLE* "What the fuck?" I quickly turned around and turned on my flashlight, my heart going a mile a minute. After what felt like forever, I'm finally content with it just being nothing or a raccoon. What I wasn't content with was that the 10 foot bear was now standing directly behind the door. I fall backwards and scramble away, the gravel provided no help in my cowardly escape. I stared at that bear directly in the eye, looking for some kind of assurance that it was indeed dead.
I pray and try to rationalize what's happened, it clearly didn't move itself, I reasoned my self into believing that the darkness made it look farther away than it was. I picked myself up and dusted off and did my job. Locked. I got in my car and drove to the last part of my night, the woods. 4 am, my shift would end in only a few hours. The dark of night was still managing to keep a hold of the park, the chilly wind picked up speed. While most kids hated the nature walks, they were always my favorite part of field trips. Always eager to learn, I memorized every info slab on the trail and the order they were in.
My old knowledge gave me confidence in my stride, knowing that the night would soon end I took my time and enjoyed my private tour of one. I then heard the fabled screaming,the crying sound of a woman, it had no words but it made my stomach drop, covering me in a cold nauseating feeling. I waited, for.... anything. Anything to tell me it was a joke or my mind playing tricks on me. I hear it again "No! Stop!" There it was again, to my left. Ignoring my predecessors orders, I charged straight towards it.
I ran over rocks and fallen branches my face being stung by hundreds of tiny thorns. I soon see a red glow, I push past some bushes and see it. A circle of candles, people in robes standing on its edges, a stone table in the middle, a naked woman chained down. A robed figure stood next to her, it held what looked like a knife, it raised it arms above it's head, ready to plunge into her, she screams.
I'm grabbed from behind and pulled away. I struggle to free my self and save her, from whatever the hell was happening. But it's of no use, my last view is of the poor woman being stabbed, her cry echoing throughout. "The hell? I thought Bill told you to stay away from the screaming." *What?* I finally see my attacker, it's John the head Ranger. 'What the fuck is going on!? Who are those people? How long has this been going on? What are you trying to.' "Shut up and let me explain." He let's go and raises his hands as a sign of peace. "So here's the thing" he starts. "Michaels wife" 'The woman who just got gutted like a fish?' "Yeah, well she's into some, let's just say non-conventional things." 'What!? So so so, you killed her?' "No no, she's not dead, just horny."
Morning comes and so does Michaels wife. Turns out, she has a cult fetish and gets "sacrificed" a couple times a month. "We didn't know how you'd react, and we didn't want to lose someone who had so much love for the park as you do." Bill says to me at the office. 'I mean, it's weird, but as long as it doesn't hurt anyone I guess it's ok." The front door opens, accompanied by the sound of heels. A woman's voice calls out. 'So there's our little pervert.' A kind faced, and very much alive, woman greets me. Hard to believe that she was screaming bloody murder just a few hours ago, or most likely ecstasy.
I try to hide my blushing face. "Once again I'd like to apologize for interrupting you all." She places a reassuring hand on my shoulder. 'Oh it's alright darling, you didn't know better. But it tells a lot about the kind of man you are. Ignoring the warnings to save someone.' She looks at Bill. 'See you at service tomorrow?' "Of course." Bill tips his hat towards her as she leaves, he takes a swig of coffee "So? What do you say? You want to keep working here?" 'Yes' I reply with a smile 'Yes I do' I grab my keys and clock out, my first shift ending. I breathe a sigh of relief, and head home to get some rest.
Criticism welcome, I'm still new at this. | |
[WP]It's your first night on the job as a Park Ranger. Your partner gives you one last piece of advice before you start your first night shift together "If you are out in the woods and you hear a woman screaming, whatever you do, do NOT run towards the screaming." | The crunching of gravel beneath my boots kept me company on my walk back to the cabin. It hadn't been a bad night. I could definitely get used to this. No claustrophobic cubicle for me anymore. Just a lovely open forest. The reds, yellows, and oranges combined into a beautiful array of colors that made me excited for Halloween.
*Kzzt*
"Hey, rookie. You almost back to base?" My partner asked me through the radio attached to my hip.
"Yeah, man. I'm almost there. Gimme 5 minutes." I told him.
"Gotcha, buddy. Be safe."
"Will do, thanks."
I took a deep breath of the fresh and crisp fall air. It chilled my chest as I inhaled. I couldn't wait to get a fresh cup of coffee, to warm me up. Nothing like a nice hot cup, on a night like this. I approached the two big trees adjacent to each other. The one on the left was slightly taller. We used it as a landmark to help us navigate. As I walked by them, I heard a faint and weak sniffle.
I shone my light underneath the tree and illuminated a young girl.
She was sobbing.
"Hey, it's going to be okay. I'm a Park Ranger. I can take you to your parents." I held out my hand and slowly approached her.
The poor little girl's clothes were in tatters. Her chest was soaked from her tears. At first she hesitated and turned away. I showed her my badge, and she started to come towards me. I knelt down to scoop her up. Right before she reached me, I heard a soft woman's voice.
"Come to me, honey. I'll take you home."
The voice startled me and I turned to her, she was standing on a rock. She was beautiful, and in a pearl white dress with no scuffs or dirt marks. Her hair was blonde.
"No, sweetie. Come to me, I'm a Park Ranger." I told the little girl.
I looked at the woman and said "Ma'am, I don't know who you are, or why the hell you're out here but you both need to come with me."
"That's it honey, come to me." She said.
While my attention was on the woman, the little girl ran toward her.
I walked towards them both.
"Don't take another step, filth." The woman told me. Her soft voice was now replaced with a scratchy growl.
"I'm taking her home." She said.
I pulled my gun out and just as I did she screamed. Her jaw unhinged like a snake.
She screamed so loud my ears rang and my eyes blurred. It was louder than a gunshot. I shook my head, and closed my ears.
I looked up at the rock, vision still blurred but they were both gone.
*kzzt*
"Did I hear what I just think I heard?" My partner asked me in a nervous yet firm voice.
"Yeah, you did."
"Don't even fucking think about going after her." He said in a somber and straight tone.
"She took a little girl."
"Oh.... Shit. Get the fuck out of there, and head for the cabin. Do you hear me? I'll meet you halfway."
"Ok."
I clutched my gun so tightly my knuckles turned white, and I ran. | He stood there in silence for just a bit too long after that. Staring me in the eyes intently.
"HAGH HAGH HAGH HAGH Ah I'm just kiddin' yah rookie" He slapped me on the shoulder and held it there. "U'm sure you'll be just fine."
"Jesus" I said, pushing his hand off. "This is probably why everyone calls you 'dick'."
His eyes narrowed and smile straightened. He looked at me like I was an idiot.
"We obviously haven't been introduced." He held out his hand. "Names Richard. But I guess you already know what most people call me."
I grabbed his hand with a guilty expression.
"Johnathan...sorry"
He rolled his eyes and took a few steps outside. He was large man with broad shoulders and a even broader mustache. He stuffed a lip in and spat aggressively.
"Suns about to set, you take first watch. I got somethin' needs taking care of." He slung a rifle around his shoulder and disappeared into the woods.
Couple hours passed and Dick was no where to be found (Sounds like my wedding night...). So I decided to call him up.
"*zzzt* Everything alright out there Dick?"
Nothing.
"*zzt* Dick?! Hello?"
.....
.....
"*zzt* I'm busy!" He sounded out of breath. "Just stay put and DO NOT leave the cabin!"
I sat for a moment in confusion. Why was he out of breath?
Just then I heard a gunshot echo through the trees....
And again....
Then a scream pierced into the night. Followed by silence.
I stood slowly and peaked out the window...it sounded close. I pulled a gun from the closet and began loading it. Pushing the bullets in as fast as I could. My hands shaking and heart thumping from my chest.
*Thump*
Something knocked against the door.
*Thump, Thump.*
I pointed the rifle at the door. Beads of sweat falling down my forehead.
Several minutes passed. I didn't move. I couldn't move.
I saw a light coming from outside go through the window. Moving rhythmically. It source was getting closer.
The knob turned and the door slid open. I cocked the gun.
Dick walked through the door casually, flashlight in hand. He glanced over at me and gave me a strange look. Then put his rifle on the table and began cleaning it.
"What happened out there Dick?"
I finally said.
He paused for a second, as if he was trying to figure out what I was talking about.
"Oh you mean the gunshots. Just doing a bit of hunting newbie, noth-"
*Thump, thump*
Dick head whirled towards the door with a frightened expression. Then glanced at me.
"Just the wind, someone should really fix that damn door!"
*Thump, Thump*
I took a step forward to answer it. But was interrupted by the sound of Dick cocking his rifle. I turned my head to see I was looking down the barrel of his gun.
"What did I tell you rookie? Stay inside..."
*Thump, Thump*
"I won't let her steal you again"
| |
[WP] When you died you expected the void of nothingness. But you were shocked when you woke up in a room with representatives from multiple fantasy universes trying to convince you to live your next life in their respected universes. | As I slowly gained consciousness I first felt the intense, bright light. It emitted a soothing warm sensation but the intensity of it burned my pupils, even with my eyes closed. Next I felt where I was lying was very uncomfortable. As I eased my eyes open I saw that I was lying on a large slab of marble. Realizing what had just happened for the first time, I saw that I was wrong. My whole life I had referred to myself as a "devout atheist" which really peeved off my religious family. I had enrolled in an Ivy League University after high school, edited the college's notoriously liberal newspaper, and campaigned on the separation of church and state my entire life. The last thing I expected after losing consciousness in a horrific car accident was to awaken in an afterlife. Soon, however, things were about to get a lot more bewildering.
"WELCOME." came a booming voice from somewhere in front of me. "Sit down, join us." I looked towards the voice and saw a large wooden table sitting in the center of this mostly empty marble room. The center of the table was filled with a buffet which suspiciously contained all of my favorite foods, and nothing I didn't enjoy. The combination of smells that wafted to me made my mouth water. Surrounding the table digging in to the buffet were mostly men with a few women each of which appeared quite, well, unique to say the least. A man at the head of the table donned with white robes and a grey beard gave a hearty chuckle and exclaimed, "Come on! Despite our motley appearance, we won't bite. Dying always makes morals so hungry!" As I approached the table in confusion, my eyes scanned across the people sitting there. The older gentleman who greeted me seemed fairly plain but an odd shining aura surrounded him. Another man, perhaps not quite as old, sat across from me wearing a heavy fur bear pelt above leather scabbards. Two crows were perched silently on his shoulders observing the gathering, perhaps making up for one of his eyes, which was obscured by an eye patch. To my right sat a muscular bald man draped in a more revealing orange robe, and to my left sat a disturbing... creature. He wore gold jewelry and had the head of some sort of dog. As I sat down he stared at me and offered me a disturbing grimace. These were only a few of the interesting characters seated at the table, as a grabbed a slice of Key Lime pie to put on my plate. Beginning to realize what exactly was happening here, the man at the head of the table confirmed my thoughts.
"So, which afterlife do you choose?" | So I've ended up in a room with no idea how I got here. Probably not due to the drinks I had. I'd drunk nothing but Diet Coke - caffeine without the coffee-cup, basically.
Three groups of people are trying to convince me to live my next life in their universes.
"Come to Los Angeles, great food, great entertainment, and maybe even a job offer if you can get a visa", said Alice Vaughan, owner of Anderson/Vaughan Investigations, from *The Catch* [which has been on ABC and CTV].
Alice wore a business suit, pinstriped with black boots and had ginger/reddish-colored hair. She spoke with a sort of Midwestern/Southern drawl. "If she's from LA, why is she speaking like this?" I thought.
Alongside Alice was an Indian lady called Felicity who sounded vaguely Geordie [and not quite Geordie Shore-esque in accent], dressed in a maroon-colored skirt suit with ankle boots.
Next to *The Catch*'s universe, was Jo Wilson from *Grey's Anatomy* who said that I should move to Seattle. She claimed it was *good* there.
Next to Jo was a woman called [Reena Thompson](http://greysanatomy.wikia.com/wiki/Reena_Thompson), a stunning redhead with an American accent I couldn't make out.
It sounded good, being in Seattle. The only Seattle I knew well was a North Yorkshire village.
Then, next to her was Sansa Stark, although for some reason, she seemed impressed by the spiel from *The Catch* universe she'd overheard, and was convinced about leaving the *Game of Thrones* universe to help Alice Vaughan.
Which universe should I go for? I don't know, and perhaps maybe I should go between both the Grey's Anatomy and The Catch universes.
As for Sansa Stark joining *The Catch* universe... interesting, what's going to happen if she does, won't that ruin the Game of Thrones universe?
I don't know what to think. | |
[WP] When you died you expected the void of nothingness. But you were shocked when you woke up in a room with representatives from multiple fantasy universes trying to convince you to live your next life in their respected universes. | "What universe are you from"
"Bloodborne, come brother, and partake of the good blo-"
"Nah i'm good, how about you?"
"The force is strong with you"
"Okay, interresting, how about you?"
"I am a representative of the universe of the game "monster girl quest" and we-"
"Sold, 100%, lets go" | So I've ended up in a room with no idea how I got here. Probably not due to the drinks I had. I'd drunk nothing but Diet Coke - caffeine without the coffee-cup, basically.
Three groups of people are trying to convince me to live my next life in their universes.
"Come to Los Angeles, great food, great entertainment, and maybe even a job offer if you can get a visa", said Alice Vaughan, owner of Anderson/Vaughan Investigations, from *The Catch* [which has been on ABC and CTV].
Alice wore a business suit, pinstriped with black boots and had ginger/reddish-colored hair. She spoke with a sort of Midwestern/Southern drawl. "If she's from LA, why is she speaking like this?" I thought.
Alongside Alice was an Indian lady called Felicity who sounded vaguely Geordie [and not quite Geordie Shore-esque in accent], dressed in a maroon-colored skirt suit with ankle boots.
Next to *The Catch*'s universe, was Jo Wilson from *Grey's Anatomy* who said that I should move to Seattle. She claimed it was *good* there.
Next to Jo was a woman called [Reena Thompson](http://greysanatomy.wikia.com/wiki/Reena_Thompson), a stunning redhead with an American accent I couldn't make out.
It sounded good, being in Seattle. The only Seattle I knew well was a North Yorkshire village.
Then, next to her was Sansa Stark, although for some reason, she seemed impressed by the spiel from *The Catch* universe she'd overheard, and was convinced about leaving the *Game of Thrones* universe to help Alice Vaughan.
Which universe should I go for? I don't know, and perhaps maybe I should go between both the Grey's Anatomy and The Catch universes.
As for Sansa Stark joining *The Catch* universe... interesting, what's going to happen if she does, won't that ruin the Game of Thrones universe?
I don't know what to think. | |
[WP] When you died you expected the void of nothingness. But you were shocked when you woke up in a room with representatives from multiple fantasy universes trying to convince you to live your next life in their respected universes. | I ended. Then I began again. They all stared at me. I recognized many of them. I remember having posters of several on my walls in my apartment. They were tattered, having been moved around every few years across towns and state lines. They were kept because the lessons I learned from their stories were nearly the same as the memories of my father and the time we spent looking at seashells. I didn't bother asking for names, I knew them all.
"Doctor," I said, pointing to the slender grey haired man in the corner, "Why are you here?" He gave me that frowning smile, that cunning smile that he forced when he knew you'd need something to comfort the bad news.
"I think you and I both know the answer to that one, Jane," he said. "What's left for you to do now is choose." Choose. I've had to choose so many times in my life. I chose between getting my doctorate and raising my own daughter. I chose between standing with my fellow researchers or keeping my job. I chose between my own career and attending my father's funeral.
"What's the point? I've always made the wrong choice." I could barely get the words out of my mouth when a 14 year old boy in a red shirt hugged me.
"Then start making the right ones." he said, his eyes lighting up like the stars. "I believe in you." He always knew how to make me feel so pure. "If Steven believes in me, then maybe I should." I reply, holding back my tears.
They all know how to make me cry, but they helped me when I needed them, even if I didn't always learn the lessons they tried to teach me. I owed it to them to speak face to face. I made my way across the room. I don't know if he was holding it for me, but Barry Allen's heart was beating slowly, as if to savor the moment. I shared a quip with Malcom Reynolds, and told him we'd share a drink. Oliver Queen pulled out a bottle of vodka then and there, and we started pouring a shot for all who joined. There must've been more glasses than vodka, as half of us toasted with an empty glass, with the exception of Dean, who grabbed a shot out of Thor's hand. Sam handed him his as not to upset the god of thunder.
We talked for what felt like forever. We laughed, and shared dreams of what we could. All but The Doctor, who stood in the corner, giving that same frowning smile that made me love him. He knew that I knew.
"By the way, Doctor, you never answered my question." I said. "Why are you here?"
"The same reason as any of us, to help you choose, Jane." He said, that Scottish twinge pulling my heart. "Where do you want to go? You can come with me, if you'd like."
"That's not my question, Doctor." I took one last look at them, the men and women who shaped me. "Why are YOU here? Where are the rest of you? You have 13 faces currently, why am I seeing only one, and not the current one."
He smiled. I didn't notice the shaking in my hands until now. The same shaking I felt when I apologized to my daughter for failing her. "Because you didn't mention any other version of me, Jane."
I remembered how I ended. It was driving my grandson away from the house where his mother died, pledging to do for him what I couldn't do for her. Then, I began here. I am but a story, I arc, I reference so that those who listen can relate. But, I'm merely fantasy.
"Well, Jane, what do you choose?" He asked, all hints of hope away from his face.
"All stories must end." I said, "I'm just glad mine got to let me go out on a good page." | So I've ended up in a room with no idea how I got here. Probably not due to the drinks I had. I'd drunk nothing but Diet Coke - caffeine without the coffee-cup, basically.
Three groups of people are trying to convince me to live my next life in their universes.
"Come to Los Angeles, great food, great entertainment, and maybe even a job offer if you can get a visa", said Alice Vaughan, owner of Anderson/Vaughan Investigations, from *The Catch* [which has been on ABC and CTV].
Alice wore a business suit, pinstriped with black boots and had ginger/reddish-colored hair. She spoke with a sort of Midwestern/Southern drawl. "If she's from LA, why is she speaking like this?" I thought.
Alongside Alice was an Indian lady called Felicity who sounded vaguely Geordie [and not quite Geordie Shore-esque in accent], dressed in a maroon-colored skirt suit with ankle boots.
Next to *The Catch*'s universe, was Jo Wilson from *Grey's Anatomy* who said that I should move to Seattle. She claimed it was *good* there.
Next to Jo was a woman called [Reena Thompson](http://greysanatomy.wikia.com/wiki/Reena_Thompson), a stunning redhead with an American accent I couldn't make out.
It sounded good, being in Seattle. The only Seattle I knew well was a North Yorkshire village.
Then, next to her was Sansa Stark, although for some reason, she seemed impressed by the spiel from *The Catch* universe she'd overheard, and was convinced about leaving the *Game of Thrones* universe to help Alice Vaughan.
Which universe should I go for? I don't know, and perhaps maybe I should go between both the Grey's Anatomy and The Catch universes.
As for Sansa Stark joining *The Catch* universe... interesting, what's going to happen if she does, won't that ruin the Game of Thrones universe?
I don't know what to think. | |
[WP] When you died you expected the void of nothingness. But you were shocked when you woke up in a room with representatives from multiple fantasy universes trying to convince you to live your next life in their respected universes. | There it is folks. I think I died. Well, time to experience nothingness it seems. I think an hour has passed. It's kind of difficult to tell to be honest. Awfully quiet so far... Oh well, I guess I'll read a book or something. As Isiah muttered that to himself, a copy of the "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire" materialized on the ground beneath his feet. "Neat trick eh?", spoke a warm, friendly voice!. "Except it's not a trick, it's magic!". "Wait, what? What just happened?", questioned Isiah, his voice half cracking. His own voice sounded similar to his real voice, with a touch of an ethereal timbre infused into it. Almost like he was using a microphone inside a large room. "Still can't believe it eh?", continued the friendly voice. "This, my friend is the Room of Representatives.". "The what of what?", asked Isiah, this time visibly more confounded than before. "The Room of Representatives of course my kind sir!", continued the voice and as it reverberated across the spacious windowed room, a tall, thin, bespectacled figure with a magnificent beard appeared in the distance and began closing the distance between it and Isiah with small comfortable steps. "My name is Albus Percival Wulfric Bryan Dumbledore and I, ehm, represent the world of Harry Potter and his friends! Others will also come and speak with you, but we have the best chocolate cookies! --If you like this so far I will continue by introducing characters from more universes!!!-- | So I've ended up in a room with no idea how I got here. Probably not due to the drinks I had. I'd drunk nothing but Diet Coke - caffeine without the coffee-cup, basically.
Three groups of people are trying to convince me to live my next life in their universes.
"Come to Los Angeles, great food, great entertainment, and maybe even a job offer if you can get a visa", said Alice Vaughan, owner of Anderson/Vaughan Investigations, from *The Catch* [which has been on ABC and CTV].
Alice wore a business suit, pinstriped with black boots and had ginger/reddish-colored hair. She spoke with a sort of Midwestern/Southern drawl. "If she's from LA, why is she speaking like this?" I thought.
Alongside Alice was an Indian lady called Felicity who sounded vaguely Geordie [and not quite Geordie Shore-esque in accent], dressed in a maroon-colored skirt suit with ankle boots.
Next to *The Catch*'s universe, was Jo Wilson from *Grey's Anatomy* who said that I should move to Seattle. She claimed it was *good* there.
Next to Jo was a woman called [Reena Thompson](http://greysanatomy.wikia.com/wiki/Reena_Thompson), a stunning redhead with an American accent I couldn't make out.
It sounded good, being in Seattle. The only Seattle I knew well was a North Yorkshire village.
Then, next to her was Sansa Stark, although for some reason, she seemed impressed by the spiel from *The Catch* universe she'd overheard, and was convinced about leaving the *Game of Thrones* universe to help Alice Vaughan.
Which universe should I go for? I don't know, and perhaps maybe I should go between both the Grey's Anatomy and The Catch universes.
As for Sansa Stark joining *The Catch* universe... interesting, what's going to happen if she does, won't that ruin the Game of Thrones universe?
I don't know what to think. | |
[WP] When you died you expected the void of nothingness. But you were shocked when you woke up in a room with representatives from multiple fantasy universes trying to convince you to live your next life in their respected universes. | An elevator? I thought I died?
I wonder were It's going.
Oh god is that that damn bap bap americano song.
*Bing*
Uh, finally.
"Welcome Micheal, please take a seat"
Wait... Is that Gandalf?
"Yes yes, sit sit. Are we all ready to start?" Gandalf addressed the room.
"I...uh. What is going on here exactly?" I asked
"Oh did you not listen to the elevator introduction?" He asked
"What?... no What introduction? it was that stupid bap bap americano song. what is this?" I was becoming increasingly confused
"What? Oh god dammit Lucius. Again? Really? That song isn't even that annoying."
"Look can you just tell me what is going on here?" I asked irritably.
"Well basically, you've died and well...this is the next level" he replied
"Next level? Is life a game?"
"In a lot of ways ye"
"Ok ok, so who are all these people are..."
"Fantasy characters from your world"
"And you are here..."
"To persuade you to join one of our worlds"
"For real? Like, no joke this is the afterlife?"
"Pretty sweet, huh?"
"Why don't they put this in the Bible?! This is awesome!"
"If we put it in the bible then everyone would just end up committing suicide" Jesus spoke from one of the far off tables
"Wait, Jesus? You're here too?"
"Well ye, the bible is technically fantasy"
"Woooah you can't say that" I said, glancing over my shoulder
"I can do what I want, I'm the son of god"
*Continued later* | So I've ended up in a room with no idea how I got here. Probably not due to the drinks I had. I'd drunk nothing but Diet Coke - caffeine without the coffee-cup, basically.
Three groups of people are trying to convince me to live my next life in their universes.
"Come to Los Angeles, great food, great entertainment, and maybe even a job offer if you can get a visa", said Alice Vaughan, owner of Anderson/Vaughan Investigations, from *The Catch* [which has been on ABC and CTV].
Alice wore a business suit, pinstriped with black boots and had ginger/reddish-colored hair. She spoke with a sort of Midwestern/Southern drawl. "If she's from LA, why is she speaking like this?" I thought.
Alongside Alice was an Indian lady called Felicity who sounded vaguely Geordie [and not quite Geordie Shore-esque in accent], dressed in a maroon-colored skirt suit with ankle boots.
Next to *The Catch*'s universe, was Jo Wilson from *Grey's Anatomy* who said that I should move to Seattle. She claimed it was *good* there.
Next to Jo was a woman called [Reena Thompson](http://greysanatomy.wikia.com/wiki/Reena_Thompson), a stunning redhead with an American accent I couldn't make out.
It sounded good, being in Seattle. The only Seattle I knew well was a North Yorkshire village.
Then, next to her was Sansa Stark, although for some reason, she seemed impressed by the spiel from *The Catch* universe she'd overheard, and was convinced about leaving the *Game of Thrones* universe to help Alice Vaughan.
Which universe should I go for? I don't know, and perhaps maybe I should go between both the Grey's Anatomy and The Catch universes.
As for Sansa Stark joining *The Catch* universe... interesting, what's going to happen if she does, won't that ruin the Game of Thrones universe?
I don't know what to think. | |
[WP] When you died you expected the void of nothingness. But you were shocked when you woke up in a room with representatives from multiple fantasy universes trying to convince you to live your next life in their respected universes. | As I slowly gained consciousness I first felt the intense, bright light. It emitted a soothing warm sensation but the intensity of it burned my pupils, even with my eyes closed. Next I felt where I was lying was very uncomfortable. As I eased my eyes open I saw that I was lying on a large slab of marble. Realizing what had just happened for the first time, I saw that I was wrong. My whole life I had referred to myself as a "devout atheist" which really peeved off my religious family. I had enrolled in an Ivy League University after high school, edited the college's notoriously liberal newspaper, and campaigned on the separation of church and state my entire life. The last thing I expected after losing consciousness in a horrific car accident was to awaken in an afterlife. Soon, however, things were about to get a lot more bewildering.
"WELCOME." came a booming voice from somewhere in front of me. "Sit down, join us." I looked towards the voice and saw a large wooden table sitting in the center of this mostly empty marble room. The center of the table was filled with a buffet which suspiciously contained all of my favorite foods, and nothing I didn't enjoy. The combination of smells that wafted to me made my mouth water. Surrounding the table digging in to the buffet were mostly men with a few women each of which appeared quite, well, unique to say the least. A man at the head of the table donned with white robes and a grey beard gave a hearty chuckle and exclaimed, "Come on! Despite our motley appearance, we won't bite. Dying always makes morals so hungry!" As I approached the table in confusion, my eyes scanned across the people sitting there. The older gentleman who greeted me seemed fairly plain but an odd shining aura surrounded him. Another man, perhaps not quite as old, sat across from me wearing a heavy fur bear pelt above leather scabbards. Two crows were perched silently on his shoulders observing the gathering, perhaps making up for one of his eyes, which was obscured by an eye patch. To my right sat a muscular bald man draped in a more revealing orange robe, and to my left sat a disturbing... creature. He wore gold jewelry and had the head of some sort of dog. As I sat down he stared at me and offered me a disturbing grimace. These were only a few of the interesting characters seated at the table, as a grabbed a slice of Key Lime pie to put on my plate. Beginning to realize what exactly was happening here, the man at the head of the table confirmed my thoughts.
"So, which afterlife do you choose?" | I spent my entire conscious existence in awe of the beauty around me, giving little to no thought of what comes after this life. As far as I was concerned, this life was all that mattered and my existence would cease with my last breath.
The day I fell asleep to this life was the day I awoke to what I had only prior considered to be useless fantasy. So it was with shock and fascination that I opened my eyes.
The old man smiled at me as I became aware... and then I remembered who he was and that I had been awake many times before. I recognized my guide... Zelanthe.
"Welcome back, How was your dream?" he spoke to me, without opening his mouth. The words rang through my mind.
"Like nothing I've been through before" I smiled at him, and let out a chuckle.
We sat in silence thereafter for a few moments in time, observing the display of my dream's failures and accomplishments. No regrets. Everything I had experienced served a purpose.
Finally Zelanthe arose and motioned to a number of guides I had not been aware of. Each of them introduced themselves and explained what sort of dream I would be experiencing if I so chose... multiple universes with multiple opportunities and lessons. But which one do I choose?
"When you are ready..." Zelanthe assured me. "Take your time..." | |
[WP] When you died you expected the void of nothingness. But you were shocked when you woke up in a room with representatives from multiple fantasy universes trying to convince you to live your next life in their respected universes. | "What universe are you from"
"Bloodborne, come brother, and partake of the good blo-"
"Nah i'm good, how about you?"
"The force is strong with you"
"Okay, interresting, how about you?"
"I am a representative of the universe of the game "monster girl quest" and we-"
"Sold, 100%, lets go" | I spent my entire conscious existence in awe of the beauty around me, giving little to no thought of what comes after this life. As far as I was concerned, this life was all that mattered and my existence would cease with my last breath.
The day I fell asleep to this life was the day I awoke to what I had only prior considered to be useless fantasy. So it was with shock and fascination that I opened my eyes.
The old man smiled at me as I became aware... and then I remembered who he was and that I had been awake many times before. I recognized my guide... Zelanthe.
"Welcome back, How was your dream?" he spoke to me, without opening his mouth. The words rang through my mind.
"Like nothing I've been through before" I smiled at him, and let out a chuckle.
We sat in silence thereafter for a few moments in time, observing the display of my dream's failures and accomplishments. No regrets. Everything I had experienced served a purpose.
Finally Zelanthe arose and motioned to a number of guides I had not been aware of. Each of them introduced themselves and explained what sort of dream I would be experiencing if I so chose... multiple universes with multiple opportunities and lessons. But which one do I choose?
"When you are ready..." Zelanthe assured me. "Take your time..." | |
[WP] When you died you expected the void of nothingness. But you were shocked when you woke up in a room with representatives from multiple fantasy universes trying to convince you to live your next life in their respected universes. | I ended. Then I began again. They all stared at me. I recognized many of them. I remember having posters of several on my walls in my apartment. They were tattered, having been moved around every few years across towns and state lines. They were kept because the lessons I learned from their stories were nearly the same as the memories of my father and the time we spent looking at seashells. I didn't bother asking for names, I knew them all.
"Doctor," I said, pointing to the slender grey haired man in the corner, "Why are you here?" He gave me that frowning smile, that cunning smile that he forced when he knew you'd need something to comfort the bad news.
"I think you and I both know the answer to that one, Jane," he said. "What's left for you to do now is choose." Choose. I've had to choose so many times in my life. I chose between getting my doctorate and raising my own daughter. I chose between standing with my fellow researchers or keeping my job. I chose between my own career and attending my father's funeral.
"What's the point? I've always made the wrong choice." I could barely get the words out of my mouth when a 14 year old boy in a red shirt hugged me.
"Then start making the right ones." he said, his eyes lighting up like the stars. "I believe in you." He always knew how to make me feel so pure. "If Steven believes in me, then maybe I should." I reply, holding back my tears.
They all know how to make me cry, but they helped me when I needed them, even if I didn't always learn the lessons they tried to teach me. I owed it to them to speak face to face. I made my way across the room. I don't know if he was holding it for me, but Barry Allen's heart was beating slowly, as if to savor the moment. I shared a quip with Malcom Reynolds, and told him we'd share a drink. Oliver Queen pulled out a bottle of vodka then and there, and we started pouring a shot for all who joined. There must've been more glasses than vodka, as half of us toasted with an empty glass, with the exception of Dean, who grabbed a shot out of Thor's hand. Sam handed him his as not to upset the god of thunder.
We talked for what felt like forever. We laughed, and shared dreams of what we could. All but The Doctor, who stood in the corner, giving that same frowning smile that made me love him. He knew that I knew.
"By the way, Doctor, you never answered my question." I said. "Why are you here?"
"The same reason as any of us, to help you choose, Jane." He said, that Scottish twinge pulling my heart. "Where do you want to go? You can come with me, if you'd like."
"That's not my question, Doctor." I took one last look at them, the men and women who shaped me. "Why are YOU here? Where are the rest of you? You have 13 faces currently, why am I seeing only one, and not the current one."
He smiled. I didn't notice the shaking in my hands until now. The same shaking I felt when I apologized to my daughter for failing her. "Because you didn't mention any other version of me, Jane."
I remembered how I ended. It was driving my grandson away from the house where his mother died, pledging to do for him what I couldn't do for her. Then, I began here. I am but a story, I arc, I reference so that those who listen can relate. But, I'm merely fantasy.
"Well, Jane, what do you choose?" He asked, all hints of hope away from his face.
"All stories must end." I said, "I'm just glad mine got to let me go out on a good page." | I spent my entire conscious existence in awe of the beauty around me, giving little to no thought of what comes after this life. As far as I was concerned, this life was all that mattered and my existence would cease with my last breath.
The day I fell asleep to this life was the day I awoke to what I had only prior considered to be useless fantasy. So it was with shock and fascination that I opened my eyes.
The old man smiled at me as I became aware... and then I remembered who he was and that I had been awake many times before. I recognized my guide... Zelanthe.
"Welcome back, How was your dream?" he spoke to me, without opening his mouth. The words rang through my mind.
"Like nothing I've been through before" I smiled at him, and let out a chuckle.
We sat in silence thereafter for a few moments in time, observing the display of my dream's failures and accomplishments. No regrets. Everything I had experienced served a purpose.
Finally Zelanthe arose and motioned to a number of guides I had not been aware of. Each of them introduced themselves and explained what sort of dream I would be experiencing if I so chose... multiple universes with multiple opportunities and lessons. But which one do I choose?
"When you are ready..." Zelanthe assured me. "Take your time..." |
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