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[WP] The mystical elite of the world long held dominion over the magically impotent. Sorcerers treated the rest like slaves. One day however, technology finally caught up just enough for the "slaves" to fight back. Recount your tales as a soldier in the Great War of Lightning. | In a better world, I wouldn't be here, shivering in the autumn mud outside Petrograd. I would be home, in Moscow, with my wife and children. I am no soldier. I am a foreman. For the first forty-two years of my life, all I knew of war was what my brother wrote me of his time with the Cossack's. But I do not live in that better world. I live in this one, and in this world, the People need fighters.
Three years ago, House Sapientia Magna and House Infinitae Misericordiae went to war. Truthfully, I know not why these two houses went to war, for I know they never told us, the People, the truth of their lofty goals and ambitions. I just know that they went to war. And over time, food became harder and harder to find. My paycheck grew less and less useful. Over the course of three years, they threw millions of my countrymen into a meat grinder of pointless battle, harvested hundreds of thousands of souls to fuel their powers and mend the Awakened who fell in battle, and regarded our complainants with contempt. Several of my workers, the people I regard as family, were sent into battles that they never returned from. I had to hide my wife and children from the roving gangs from House Sapientia Magna looking for souls to harvest.
After years of living like that, what could I be expected to do? I knew nothing of battle, of war, or of serious fighting. But if I did nothing, then there would be nothing left to fight for.
The Communists approached me six months ago, and asked me to work for them in secret. To build for them weapons, and lie to the Overboss about my material and production levels.
In a better world, I would have reported them and gone back to life as a foreman. But I do not live in that better world. I live in the world where I built great war machines for the Communists. Twenty-eight massive landships. Massive diesel monsters, bigger than any domestic landship my factory ever built. These machines were to be built to exacting standards, standards I struggled to meet with the rations and the Overboss. But I met them. From my existing stock of parts and hulls, I built the Chainbreakers, twenty-eight dreadnought class landships. I built Narodnyy Molot, my personal war-machine. The Communists wanted people to pilot their war-machines, and I was the first volunteer. All of my workers signed up with me, each man climbing into one of the machines we built and agreeing to fight alongside me with the Communists.
A month ago, we received the signal. The Workers Spring was now. It was time to rise up, to break the chains, and march on Petrograd. The Chainbreakers would be the Red steel wall that the Loyalists and Awakened threw themselves against. A month ago, I kissed my wife and children good-bye, and sent them to live with my brother on his farm in the hinterland, where they might be safe. A month ago, I climbed into the Narodnyy Molot, fueled my machine up, and led my brothers to fight through the Moscow Home Guard, and onward towards Petrograd.
It has not been an easy march, and the battles we fought have taught me much in the ways of fighting. But now, my brothers and I stand on the outskirts of Petrograd, ready to push through the trenchwork and bunkers. The Revolution is far from over, and I fear the amount of bloodshed and death I will have to cause on my way forward.
I do not live in the better world I imagined for myself. But with sacrifice and luck and the help of my brothers and sister in the Revolution, I may yet make this world into the better one I envisioned. If not for me, then for my sons and daughters.
| -transcript begin-
It was 0200 when the flare burst into the sky and the dropship doors opened. To say it was a flare would actually be an understatement. It was a shimmering form of a red dragon, flying into the air, cast by some priest of whatever bullshit he chose to throw at us. We were positioned above Tãrmond, where the latest riot had been undertaken, and our squad was waiting for the first sign of violence. That was our sign.
The door slid downward and the light began to spin red as we piled out of the ship. Taking care not to get sucked into the rear thruster I jumped out of the ship and let CHRYSSALID (our pack A.I) take care of my PRT(PERSONAL RETROGRADE THRUSTER.) and get me down to the ground safely. I had more important things to concern myself with, like scanning the area and picking out targets. I set on my visor and pointed my arm-turret towards the ground. The jerky, automated movements of the barrel slightly moved my arm, but not enough to offset its aim, and a few apprentices crumbled toward the ground where they belonged. By then, however, one of the crystal ball gazers back at wizard HQ had picked us up.
I assume that they transferred the message through an on-site telepathic. I don't really know how magic works. What did matter is at that moment a massive swarm of locusts began to rush up into the sky. Locusts by themselves were small game, we didn't really have any harvests for them to eat. The trouble lay in what they came from. Wizards normally use those things for aiming, and, right when I thought that, Yairl, falling next to me, exploded in a shower of caterpillars and blood. Knowing that I was next, I instructed CHRYSSALID to begin standard evasive maneuvers.
The only problem with standard evasive maneuvers is that they don't exist. The only solution to avoiding magical rays of invisible magic is to fling around the sky like hell had just been unleashed right on top of your back, and in a way it had. Flying around at 77 mph in a clightning suit designed for 50, well that was a fun experience. The EPRT didn't last for that long, though and soon I was set to my default drift to Earth, although widely off course.
I landed in the outskirts of Tãrmond. An old mining city that recently had been repurposed into a labor camp. Well, I suppose it had always been a labor camp, just now it's mining for "Crystals" instead of copper. I checked my map for positions of my squadmates, and the first thing that I saw was an "ally in distress" blinking just a few meters away from me. I set it as my course and began to slink in that direction.
He was in a stealth suit. Unlucky bastard must have tried to sneak by a Scryer. It's hard to tell which wizard is which till you get close enough for them to transmute your liver into a gold coin, but you can usually tell their ranks by their robe color.
I saw a couple of apprentices chatting in the corner and a meagi standing by the captive. Looking over, my HUD stated his name was Tomchal. I sent him a message of my plan, but I got back a quick "No can do." When I looked over, I saw that both of his legs had been removed, and by the looks of it, one arm too. This put a significant dent in my plan. I had to move fast, or he might get his head removed, too.
I snuck to the opposite side of the alleyway, and I stopped to listen in to what the two apprentices were saying.
"Can you belive that Tãrmond used to be a techhi mining town?"
"I know, right didn't it mine, like, 'copper' or some other bullshit like that?"
"Think so. Good thing it's mining crystals now. At least those do something."
Listening to the conversation, I saw a hand motion come from the Maegi. I didn't know what that was, but it could have been a spell. I pulled out my KTMDs (KILLOTRON MICRO DELIVERY system) and filled the magical asshats body with little death robots faster than he could blink. The two apprentices, obviously having recently exhausted their magical abilities on capturing the now late Tomchal (He died of blood loss right after I shot the maegi) raised their M1 Garand's and attempted to pierce my Clightning Suit with their WWII era tech. I quickly gunned both of them down, but not before one of them managed to turn my kidneys into... well I can't really tell you right now, but the suit says it's sure as hell not kidneys.
Waiting for the suit to administer morphine, I curled up in the alley and popped up the map again to I was the last one who was still in operating condition. Everybody else was either dead, captured, or worse, and we could not allow the wizards to discover how to use our tech. That's why I'm recording this. I know that historians will want the tape, whether we lose or not. The soldier that massacred an entire wizard supply line, a captain, and nearly 50 fellow revolting techies. But it has to be done. I already had CHRYSSALID shut off the data safety, so all that's required is for me to pull the trigger. They don't call my suit a "CLIGHTNING" (CHAIN LIGHTNING) for nothing. Anyway, here goes.
-Signed off, LGNT Omral Kelly-
-transcript end- | |
[WP] The mystical elite of the world long held dominion over the magically impotent. Sorcerers treated the rest like slaves. One day however, technology finally caught up just enough for the "slaves" to fight back. Recount your tales as a soldier in the Great War of Lightning. | "Have they never told you?" I said, to myself since no one was listening to me, this were the words of my late masters "not to bite the hand that feeds you?"
For how long have lived by those words, I wonder, was it five years? ten maybe. never in my life I would have thought I would take up arms against the people who took care of me. I was a slave, but despite that, I wasn't treated badly by my masters, in fact, it was the complete opposite, I might be wrong or I might be exaggerating but I think they thought of me as family.
I heard cases of course, where people without magic were treated as trash, or as simple guinea pigs for new spells and forbidden magic. Blood, hair, eyeballs, skin and sexual organs were very precious for Sorcerers, they allowed them to performs magic that was near to miracles.
But I never experienced any of that, I never experienced true horror, not until the day of the slave's revolution thanks to developments in technology, 'lightning rods' or simply 'guns' as some of them called it. They appeared one day in the house suddenly, three of them, in fact, wielding lighting rods and some kind of special armor. the shot both my master and mistress, their heads exploding and filling the surrounding with blood.
Lydia, the daughter of master was hiding alongside with me, I locked her in one of the chests in the basement, she was small so she fit right in there.
But, no matter how much I told the other slaves that there was no one left to kill, they still searched the house, every croony, every floor. I should have stopped them, I should have forced them out since talking didn't work.
But I was scared, I saw the corpses of my masters and I got scared of dying.
Eventually, they found Lydia and dragged her out of her hiding spot, she was waiting for them because the moment they found her she exploded in particles of light that ricochet on every surface. one of them hit me in the leg completely piercing it.
But the other slaves were fine, their armor suffered damage but they were still standing, Lydia didn't have the strength to fight back, that explosion was her only hope, they grabbed her small body and snapped her neck. her crooked form on the ground as the other slaves approached me and forced me to join them in the incoming war was a scene that will stay with me forever.
That's the day I became a true slave. some might call me selfish, some might call me stupid. but the fact is that none of that mattered anymore, I didn't care what other people think of the coward me.
Because, in this forsaken place, I'm about to die, as a nameless soldier. everyone else is dead, whatever defense we have is useless against is not as effective anymore. is been a long time since I heard shooting and screaming of my 'comrades', so I'm sure everything is over, all I had to is wait in this forgotten house
I heard footsteps outside, and then the front door being opened, someone is inside. They reached the room where I was, wielding a long staff with twin blades at the top. It was one person, alone, were always extremely confident, I concluded that it was a she due to her long red hair.
She approached the body of the man on the bed, she had her staff at the ready, but that still didn't prepare her for when I attacked her from behind.
First the knee, she grunted and almost fell to the ground, I hit her face and neck and kept hitting her a few more times, trying to put her down. Close quarter combat was something that was implanted into me when my training started, I didn't like it but I was grateful for it now.
*who knew close quarter combat could work against a Sorcerer?* she raised her staff and I dodged, pretty easily, this woman wasn't used to this, I could see the desperation on her face. She should have called out for help but didn't. Was it pride? or was she stupid?
A light was starting to form at the tip of the blade, an electricity spell. I pulled out my knife, I had long since lost my armor and now only had my military uniform, and I was pretty sure it wasn't electricity proof. I had to keep close to her or she'll zap me with that.
I grabbed her neck from behind and pulled a knife to her throat, "undo the sp-"
She zaps both of us, the electricity ran through my body and I fall to the ground smoke coming out of my clothes, *fuck* I could she was trembling and almost fell to the ground a few time, she used the edge of the bed to keep herself from falling completely.
"That, was scary" she laughed grabbing her sore neck, I couldn't move, not completely anyway, "they told me not to kill only to capture...so I guess I got lucky huh?" she approached me with uneven footsteps and grabbed my head.
Well, she tried to because I bit her hand before she could do it, I didn't let go. I could move my body again, so I grabbed the collar of her neck to pull her down and kick her in the chin using my knee. it didn't break her neck like I intended, but the amount of pain made the staff fall to the ground, assuring my victory. I pulled her to the side and let out a long breath. it wasn't over.
I turned her around to face her - and also destroyed the staff, I couldn't use its full potential so might as well get rid of it - blood was pouring from her mouth and her broken finger.
"Stop, please I-"
"it's alright, the way you are now, you are no threat" I said, interrupting, it wasn't completely true, I wasn't 100% sure that she could use magic without her staff, but right now I had no choice but to believe "I have a proposal for you, one that will be beneficial for the two of us"
"What?" she said, "yo- you think I'm going to listen to some slave!?"
just a moment ago she was about to beg for her life, are all Sorcerers like this? always having mood swings? I didn't listen to her bickering and continued "I know some of you Sorcerers have hiding spots to perform forbidden magic"
"*What?*"
"You're going to lead me to one of those places," I said "I want out of this war"
***
some critiques would really be appreciated :) - [r/Onni21](https://www.reddit.com/r/Onni21/) | -transcript begin-
It was 0200 when the flare burst into the sky and the dropship doors opened. To say it was a flare would actually be an understatement. It was a shimmering form of a red dragon, flying into the air, cast by some priest of whatever bullshit he chose to throw at us. We were positioned above Tãrmond, where the latest riot had been undertaken, and our squad was waiting for the first sign of violence. That was our sign.
The door slid downward and the light began to spin red as we piled out of the ship. Taking care not to get sucked into the rear thruster I jumped out of the ship and let CHRYSSALID (our pack A.I) take care of my PRT(PERSONAL RETROGRADE THRUSTER.) and get me down to the ground safely. I had more important things to concern myself with, like scanning the area and picking out targets. I set on my visor and pointed my arm-turret towards the ground. The jerky, automated movements of the barrel slightly moved my arm, but not enough to offset its aim, and a few apprentices crumbled toward the ground where they belonged. By then, however, one of the crystal ball gazers back at wizard HQ had picked us up.
I assume that they transferred the message through an on-site telepathic. I don't really know how magic works. What did matter is at that moment a massive swarm of locusts began to rush up into the sky. Locusts by themselves were small game, we didn't really have any harvests for them to eat. The trouble lay in what they came from. Wizards normally use those things for aiming, and, right when I thought that, Yairl, falling next to me, exploded in a shower of caterpillars and blood. Knowing that I was next, I instructed CHRYSSALID to begin standard evasive maneuvers.
The only problem with standard evasive maneuvers is that they don't exist. The only solution to avoiding magical rays of invisible magic is to fling around the sky like hell had just been unleashed right on top of your back, and in a way it had. Flying around at 77 mph in a clightning suit designed for 50, well that was a fun experience. The EPRT didn't last for that long, though and soon I was set to my default drift to Earth, although widely off course.
I landed in the outskirts of Tãrmond. An old mining city that recently had been repurposed into a labor camp. Well, I suppose it had always been a labor camp, just now it's mining for "Crystals" instead of copper. I checked my map for positions of my squadmates, and the first thing that I saw was an "ally in distress" blinking just a few meters away from me. I set it as my course and began to slink in that direction.
He was in a stealth suit. Unlucky bastard must have tried to sneak by a Scryer. It's hard to tell which wizard is which till you get close enough for them to transmute your liver into a gold coin, but you can usually tell their ranks by their robe color.
I saw a couple of apprentices chatting in the corner and a meagi standing by the captive. Looking over, my HUD stated his name was Tomchal. I sent him a message of my plan, but I got back a quick "No can do." When I looked over, I saw that both of his legs had been removed, and by the looks of it, one arm too. This put a significant dent in my plan. I had to move fast, or he might get his head removed, too.
I snuck to the opposite side of the alleyway, and I stopped to listen in to what the two apprentices were saying.
"Can you belive that Tãrmond used to be a techhi mining town?"
"I know, right didn't it mine, like, 'copper' or some other bullshit like that?"
"Think so. Good thing it's mining crystals now. At least those do something."
Listening to the conversation, I saw a hand motion come from the Maegi. I didn't know what that was, but it could have been a spell. I pulled out my KTMDs (KILLOTRON MICRO DELIVERY system) and filled the magical asshats body with little death robots faster than he could blink. The two apprentices, obviously having recently exhausted their magical abilities on capturing the now late Tomchal (He died of blood loss right after I shot the maegi) raised their M1 Garand's and attempted to pierce my Clightning Suit with their WWII era tech. I quickly gunned both of them down, but not before one of them managed to turn my kidneys into... well I can't really tell you right now, but the suit says it's sure as hell not kidneys.
Waiting for the suit to administer morphine, I curled up in the alley and popped up the map again to I was the last one who was still in operating condition. Everybody else was either dead, captured, or worse, and we could not allow the wizards to discover how to use our tech. That's why I'm recording this. I know that historians will want the tape, whether we lose or not. The soldier that massacred an entire wizard supply line, a captain, and nearly 50 fellow revolting techies. But it has to be done. I already had CHRYSSALID shut off the data safety, so all that's required is for me to pull the trigger. They don't call my suit a "CLIGHTNING" (CHAIN LIGHTNING) for nothing. Anyway, here goes.
-Signed off, LGNT Omral Kelly-
-transcript end- | |
https://www.artstation.com/artwork/Lg5VR
artist name: Jinho Bae | [WP] Write a story about this pic that made the front page of reddit | "Wah, steal mah sandles 'n call me a 'n elf, you seein' that there Piglet?"
The strange goat/dog hybrid at the man's side looked at him, making a sound that resembled the coughs that old man Willey got when he drank to much.
"I mean, I heard there was one o'them giant corpses in them mountains, but this fucker is way bigger than I thought he'd be! Godsdamn, I wish Mary could've seen this shit. Aw well, she'll see it on the way back"
Piglet was now staring at a nearby rock, refusing to acknowledge the dead titan displayed in front of them. After a moment of trying to swallow said rock it looked at the man again and meowed at him.
"Whaddaya mean ya don't care? Have you actually used those four eyeballs we gave ya? How do ya *not* find this impressive?!"
Piglet merely gave a sighing bark in response, and started looking at the closest few rocks again, tugging on his line to reach a smaller one this time.
"Oh so now ya don't care if ya can't eat it. You're not supposed to eat paper eitha Piglet!"
Now he had gotten the creature's attention. Piglet looked at him, annoyed, and made a loud farting noise with his nostrils.
"It was enchanted ya dumb git! That thing was literally keepin' half of my experiments alive!"
Piglet simply snorted.
"Because using a single piece of paper is *ergonomic*! We gotta think about the environment or we all end up like the big guy over there", he said, pointing at the fallen Titan. "But ya're right, ah should've stored it bettar."
The man looked at the Titan again. Then at Piglet, then at the path in front of him.
"Arright come with me ya dumb critter, or we won't be to the temple in time ta get Mary's soul out of ya."
Piglet chuckled
"Noh, *you* should stop eating errything ya find ya dumb animal"
The man looked at the Titan one final time and continued his path.
____
My first time one /r/WritingPrompts, hope you enjoyed it :) | *From the journal of Magister Esier Doreaux*
GORAG'S END
The dwarven realms sprawl underneath the Cloudpeak Range, but the summits have mostly been left untouched. Fortunate, for scholars like myself.
The mountain pass to Gorag's End is a cruel one, and took our team of five the best part of a week to navigate. However, the evidence of giant settlement is clear from the path, let alone the destination. Carved stairways with steps as tall as two men, and various tattered cloths lie scattered among the rocks. Perhaps clothing, left behind after the chaotic events more than a millenia ago.
I remember the first gaze upon the valley - the indents of feet in stone at the bottom, still visible from decades of moots and brawls. And of course, Gorag himself.
I remember the tales from my childhood, centuries ago though it was, of the battle that raged among the mountains. Blows exchanged, ringing like thunder through the range.
The death of a giant comes rarely - the murder of a king, even more so. Gorag's End is not simply a place, it is an event. Long past, of course, but the echoes still resound.
Tomorrow we go to pay homage to those who shaped the mountains. The king is one with his kingdom once more. |
https://www.artstation.com/artwork/Lg5VR
artist name: Jinho Bae | [WP] Write a story about this pic that made the front page of reddit | "Of course they say it's just the sculpture of some long lost society," Dee said to his last yakkaa. "As if that was somehow inspiring."
Ta, Dee's faithful companion humphed. It was his favorite and easiest response. Dee rarely expected any more from the animal than an occasional exhale he could interpret as empathy and a pint of pale pink milk every few days.
"Is it really better to imagine that there were men like us--" Ta muumphed and Dee corrected himself "like me, sorry." The unlikely pair rounded the bend to approach the northern cliffside once again. "But is it better to imagine that once we were able to create such tremendous feats and lost that knowledge to the nether, never to be discovered again, or to face the fact that once we were tiny and weak and ineffectual compared to those giants?"
Ta did not respond. Dee let his mind wander in this way when returning for the feast. It wasn't his fault, Ta knew. Humans worried too much about their place in the world and not enough about where they will find the meal after next.
It's why we yakaa have been here since before the Titans destroyed themselves, Ta thought. While the Neos shrunk and shrunk and shrunk until they were something else entirely. Never keeping their eyes on the important things: food, shelter, warmth. Always staring at that mountain and winding themselves into tinier and tinier packages.
Fools, Ta thought.
Dee held a small handful of sweet grain under Ta's snout which he gratefully munched. This one's not so bad, Ta thought. Even if he is just a foolish mortal.
Ta nudged Dee forward. The crag was still two miles to the valley floor and Ta was anxious for some fresh grass for once. | *From the journal of Magister Esier Doreaux*
GORAG'S END
The dwarven realms sprawl underneath the Cloudpeak Range, but the summits have mostly been left untouched. Fortunate, for scholars like myself.
The mountain pass to Gorag's End is a cruel one, and took our team of five the best part of a week to navigate. However, the evidence of giant settlement is clear from the path, let alone the destination. Carved stairways with steps as tall as two men, and various tattered cloths lie scattered among the rocks. Perhaps clothing, left behind after the chaotic events more than a millenia ago.
I remember the first gaze upon the valley - the indents of feet in stone at the bottom, still visible from decades of moots and brawls. And of course, Gorag himself.
I remember the tales from my childhood, centuries ago though it was, of the battle that raged among the mountains. Blows exchanged, ringing like thunder through the range.
The death of a giant comes rarely - the murder of a king, even more so. Gorag's End is not simply a place, it is an event. Long past, of course, but the echoes still resound.
Tomorrow we go to pay homage to those who shaped the mountains. The king is one with his kingdom once more. |
https://www.artstation.com/artwork/Lg5VR
artist name: Jinho Bae | [WP] Write a story about this pic that made the front page of reddit | 1.The area has always been famous for vultures.
2."Goodbye, dear brother."
Sk'aruk kissed his brother, now had turned into a mountain, on the forehead. The Age of the Giants had gone, ended like a late dream awakened suddenly by the morning dew. They learned too fast. And once a race has grasped the true concept of Life, it must go. That's the law. But Sk'aruk was reluctant to let go, for he longed to stay in this Creation for more. His brethens, benevolent and kind, understood this. So, while they merged into Creation, Sk'aruk was left to look after the next race.
And harsh winters he survived. Such is the curse for those who wish to stay. The new race must start anew. But Sk'aruk overcame them all, with love to warm his frozen body and with hope to oil his ancient mind. Eventually, Life gave out. A new Age began.
3.Sk'aruk taught the New Men how to light fire, the first one he took from the sun and ignited a mountain, which used to be his sister, from the inside. He taught them to fear the blaze and to worship it, to keep it burning until no man was there to keep it burning. Fire in the heart and fire in the palm. Such was the first light of civilization.
Sk'aruk was amused, for nothing had kept him going but the curiosity of how an Age begins.
Then, the Giant taught the New Men to condense words into markings, and to preserve those markings. One can only move forward if one knows where he has been. The tribe he was looking after grew like never before, but they were always travelling. Just like the wind, constantly on the move. And how Sk'aruk hated the wind. There would be no meaning to be derived out of a life on the run.
Thus, he taught them to tame plants and beasts, that is, to farm and raise livestocks. He taught them to build caves to reside in, and to shape these caves to their will. Lastly, as he dug the bones of his brethens out of the earth, he taught them to make tools, better tools, sharper tools. For that, they crafted him a blade of his size.
By now, the New Men no longer did worship the blaze, they worshipped Sk'aruk, who had taught them to conquer Creation, or at least a part of it.
4.The New Men grew.... different. Too different. They treated their own kind no better than livestocks, enslaving them. They plundered instead of create, dirtying the remains of being they called Gods with their foul blood. They dismembered one another and offered the butchered bodies to Sk'aruk. Worst of all, they were no longer afraid of Creation.
This troubled Sk'aruk greatly. The New Men were too smart for their own good. They bended his teachings with their lean tongue, turning him into the cause and salvation of their suffering, using him to gain more power and wealth. Therefore, Sk'aruk made a messenger out of mud, weaved her hair with the wind, her face with snow, her heart with flame and her tongue with water. Finally, he stole the stars and cloaked them around her to distinguish herself from others. The messenger, her tongue, which was made out of a liquid, preached about love and compassion. Peace returned to the New Men.
5."Sk'aruk, brother! You've got to stop."
Said G'tuakr in the veil of dreams.
"Brother!" - Sk'aruk greeted him warmly - "Why must I? The New Man has known love once more, and they shall know love until their Age dies!"
G'tuakr shook his head.
"You've become arrogant, dear brother. Arrogant and prideful. What you're doing is against the way of Creation. You've punished the New Men."
He then disappeared from the dream. Sk'aruk woke up from his slumber, horrified. His instinct told him to be horrified.
So he merged into the Earth and travelled to where his messenger was. To his horror, the New Men were taking turns defiling her sacred body. Some did it out of lust, some did it in hope she would bear their children, children with Godlike powers. Some did it without a purpose, as if it had been imprinted into their soul.
Furious, Sk'aruk pulled the giant blade out of the ground, detemined to obliterate the New Men completely. But his messenger begged him not to, for how could he be teaching about love and compassion when he turns to hatred in time when forgiveness is needed?
Sk'aruk grabbed the messenger in his hand, and stormed away.
6.It was his sin for interfering with the way of Creation. It was his sin that had darkened the souls of the New Men. It was his sin when he never let the New Men overcame their challenges the hard way. The New Men had learned nothing but to cheat their way out of Life.
Sk'aruk rested next to his brother's body. The messenger, filled with self-contempt and fury, had long crumbledbin his palm.
Slowly, Sk'aruk thrusted the blade into his chest. He wished to take in the pain, if it would lessen the sins of the New Men.
7.In icy cold condition, it is very difficult for a body to decompose.
The area has always been famous for vultures. | *From the journal of Magister Esier Doreaux*
GORAG'S END
The dwarven realms sprawl underneath the Cloudpeak Range, but the summits have mostly been left untouched. Fortunate, for scholars like myself.
The mountain pass to Gorag's End is a cruel one, and took our team of five the best part of a week to navigate. However, the evidence of giant settlement is clear from the path, let alone the destination. Carved stairways with steps as tall as two men, and various tattered cloths lie scattered among the rocks. Perhaps clothing, left behind after the chaotic events more than a millenia ago.
I remember the first gaze upon the valley - the indents of feet in stone at the bottom, still visible from decades of moots and brawls. And of course, Gorag himself.
I remember the tales from my childhood, centuries ago though it was, of the battle that raged among the mountains. Blows exchanged, ringing like thunder through the range.
The death of a giant comes rarely - the murder of a king, even more so. Gorag's End is not simply a place, it is an event. Long past, of course, but the echoes still resound.
Tomorrow we go to pay homage to those who shaped the mountains. The king is one with his kingdom once more. |
https://www.artstation.com/artwork/Lg5VR
artist name: Jinho Bae | [WP] Write a story about this pic that made the front page of reddit | "Wah, steal mah sandles 'n call me a 'n elf, you seein' that there Piglet?"
The strange goat/dog hybrid at the man's side looked at him, making a sound that resembled the coughs that old man Willey got when he drank to much.
"I mean, I heard there was one o'them giant corpses in them mountains, but this fucker is way bigger than I thought he'd be! Godsdamn, I wish Mary could've seen this shit. Aw well, she'll see it on the way back"
Piglet was now staring at a nearby rock, refusing to acknowledge the dead titan displayed in front of them. After a moment of trying to swallow said rock it looked at the man again and meowed at him.
"Whaddaya mean ya don't care? Have you actually used those four eyeballs we gave ya? How do ya *not* find this impressive?!"
Piglet merely gave a sighing bark in response, and started looking at the closest few rocks again, tugging on his line to reach a smaller one this time.
"Oh so now ya don't care if ya can't eat it. You're not supposed to eat paper eitha Piglet!"
Now he had gotten the creature's attention. Piglet looked at him, annoyed, and made a loud farting noise with his nostrils.
"It was enchanted ya dumb git! That thing was literally keepin' half of my experiments alive!"
Piglet simply snorted.
"Because using a single piece of paper is *ergonomic*! We gotta think about the environment or we all end up like the big guy over there", he said, pointing at the fallen Titan. "But ya're right, ah should've stored it bettar."
The man looked at the Titan again. Then at Piglet, then at the path in front of him.
"Arright come with me ya dumb critter, or we won't be to the temple in time ta get Mary's soul out of ya."
Piglet chuckled
"Noh, *you* should stop eating errything ya find ya dumb animal"
The man looked at the Titan one final time and continued his path.
____
My first time one /r/WritingPrompts, hope you enjoyed it :) | There I was, admiring the enormous abomination. The giant was defeated tens of thousands of years ago, created as the ultimate weapon of mass destruction which had almost brought our world to an end.
All because of a terrible mistake. All because of a young and reckless man that didn't know better.
"Still haunted by the ghosts of the past, aren't you Lizek?" a loud shriek echoed across the valley below.
After all this time, I was bewildered by his wretched voice. I couldn't believe such a thing was possible. Maybe my mind was playing tricks on me, but it all seemed so real.
"You can't fool me with your fake appearences, Lizek, everybody knows you're no ordinary man, and I'm no ordinary pile of bones. So why don't we end this petty charade right here and right now?"
I shook my head.
"This won't happen ever again you monster!"
"Monster?!..You betrayed me at the last moment when all your mighty plans started collpasing and defeat seemed inevitable!"
Having no words to utter, i sat there on the edge of a cliff, staring into the abyss. After all that had happened then, they survived, they found a way to rebuild the ruined civilizations, their will to thrive drove away all the death around them, but most importantly: they were united.
My soul was never at peace, anger and revenge consuming it with every human death that occurred. Did the genocide make me happier? It only made the matters worse.
Now, I am here, exiled by my own people, with a punishment worse than dying: loneliness.
"Remember the old times? We were at the top of the world, WE OFFERED THOSE PUNY AND WEAK HUMANS TRUE POWER! But they refused us! Vile beings, they must be purged once again!"
"I was the only one that embraced the power, and look at me now, shattered and destroyed, I am just a shadow of my former self. You can't manipulate me tyrant, go away!"
"They truly corrupted you, didn't they?"
He is trying to enter my mind now, to control my thoughts, to become whole once again. He wants to finally take his revenge. I tried to stand up, but i immediately fell to my knees. I felt weak. For the first time in my entire life, I knew death was suddenly approaching.
"What is happening?!"
I sensed the anger in his voice. He knew something wrong had happened with me. I was dying.
At that moment, with my last powers, I took out of the saddlebag a shiny and empty bottle of poison. It was working.
"Checkmate"
I fell to the ground; all I could see were colors mixed together and only heard a loud screech. For once, I was finally at peace.
|
https://www.artstation.com/artwork/Lg5VR
artist name: Jinho Bae | [WP] Write a story about this pic that made the front page of reddit | "Of course they say it's just the sculpture of some long lost society," Dee said to his last yakkaa. "As if that was somehow inspiring."
Ta, Dee's faithful companion humphed. It was his favorite and easiest response. Dee rarely expected any more from the animal than an occasional exhale he could interpret as empathy and a pint of pale pink milk every few days.
"Is it really better to imagine that there were men like us--" Ta muumphed and Dee corrected himself "like me, sorry." The unlikely pair rounded the bend to approach the northern cliffside once again. "But is it better to imagine that once we were able to create such tremendous feats and lost that knowledge to the nether, never to be discovered again, or to face the fact that once we were tiny and weak and ineffectual compared to those giants?"
Ta did not respond. Dee let his mind wander in this way when returning for the feast. It wasn't his fault, Ta knew. Humans worried too much about their place in the world and not enough about where they will find the meal after next.
It's why we yakaa have been here since before the Titans destroyed themselves, Ta thought. While the Neos shrunk and shrunk and shrunk until they were something else entirely. Never keeping their eyes on the important things: food, shelter, warmth. Always staring at that mountain and winding themselves into tinier and tinier packages.
Fools, Ta thought.
Dee held a small handful of sweet grain under Ta's snout which he gratefully munched. This one's not so bad, Ta thought. Even if he is just a foolish mortal.
Ta nudged Dee forward. The crag was still two miles to the valley floor and Ta was anxious for some fresh grass for once. | There I was, admiring the enormous abomination. The giant was defeated tens of thousands of years ago, created as the ultimate weapon of mass destruction which had almost brought our world to an end.
All because of a terrible mistake. All because of a young and reckless man that didn't know better.
"Still haunted by the ghosts of the past, aren't you Lizek?" a loud shriek echoed across the valley below.
After all this time, I was bewildered by his wretched voice. I couldn't believe such a thing was possible. Maybe my mind was playing tricks on me, but it all seemed so real.
"You can't fool me with your fake appearences, Lizek, everybody knows you're no ordinary man, and I'm no ordinary pile of bones. So why don't we end this petty charade right here and right now?"
I shook my head.
"This won't happen ever again you monster!"
"Monster?!..You betrayed me at the last moment when all your mighty plans started collpasing and defeat seemed inevitable!"
Having no words to utter, i sat there on the edge of a cliff, staring into the abyss. After all that had happened then, they survived, they found a way to rebuild the ruined civilizations, their will to thrive drove away all the death around them, but most importantly: they were united.
My soul was never at peace, anger and revenge consuming it with every human death that occurred. Did the genocide make me happier? It only made the matters worse.
Now, I am here, exiled by my own people, with a punishment worse than dying: loneliness.
"Remember the old times? We were at the top of the world, WE OFFERED THOSE PUNY AND WEAK HUMANS TRUE POWER! But they refused us! Vile beings, they must be purged once again!"
"I was the only one that embraced the power, and look at me now, shattered and destroyed, I am just a shadow of my former self. You can't manipulate me tyrant, go away!"
"They truly corrupted you, didn't they?"
He is trying to enter my mind now, to control my thoughts, to become whole once again. He wants to finally take his revenge. I tried to stand up, but i immediately fell to my knees. I felt weak. For the first time in my entire life, I knew death was suddenly approaching.
"What is happening?!"
I sensed the anger in his voice. He knew something wrong had happened with me. I was dying.
At that moment, with my last powers, I took out of the saddlebag a shiny and empty bottle of poison. It was working.
"Checkmate"
I fell to the ground; all I could see were colors mixed together and only heard a loud screech. For once, I was finally at peace.
|
https://www.artstation.com/artwork/Lg5VR
artist name: Jinho Bae | [WP] Write a story about this pic that made the front page of reddit | "Of course they say it's just the sculpture of some long lost society," Dee said to his last yakkaa. "As if that was somehow inspiring."
Ta, Dee's faithful companion humphed. It was his favorite and easiest response. Dee rarely expected any more from the animal than an occasional exhale he could interpret as empathy and a pint of pale pink milk every few days.
"Is it really better to imagine that there were men like us--" Ta muumphed and Dee corrected himself "like me, sorry." The unlikely pair rounded the bend to approach the northern cliffside once again. "But is it better to imagine that once we were able to create such tremendous feats and lost that knowledge to the nether, never to be discovered again, or to face the fact that once we were tiny and weak and ineffectual compared to those giants?"
Ta did not respond. Dee let his mind wander in this way when returning for the feast. It wasn't his fault, Ta knew. Humans worried too much about their place in the world and not enough about where they will find the meal after next.
It's why we yakaa have been here since before the Titans destroyed themselves, Ta thought. While the Neos shrunk and shrunk and shrunk until they were something else entirely. Never keeping their eyes on the important things: food, shelter, warmth. Always staring at that mountain and winding themselves into tinier and tinier packages.
Fools, Ta thought.
Dee held a small handful of sweet grain under Ta's snout which he gratefully munched. This one's not so bad, Ta thought. Even if he is just a foolish mortal.
Ta nudged Dee forward. The crag was still two miles to the valley floor and Ta was anxious for some fresh grass for once. | "You're ill." *The man determined as his livestock grazed.* "You should be in bed, not wandering these parts."
*I coughed up blood as I leaned on my beam saber. The sickly black was mixed in with the dark crimson. Like the night sky breaking through clouds lit by an ancient ember in the palm of my hand.*
"So I'm supposed to give up then?" *I uttered. Even the words seemed warm, like a hay bale on the farm, inviting me to stay.* "No. I'm already dead, nothing can change that."
"Everyone's a walking corpse," *the herder tugged his beast along.* "but you're doing yourself no favors mage."
"Maybe. But do you think the perfect core did favors for itself?" *I rebuked, pointing to the mountainside, the massive sword plunged into the rotting bones of the great one.* "You think it gave up when it faced the serpent of the sky, when the titans rest in peace?"
"Well it certainly paid for its actions, if that's what you mean." *The herder replied somberly. He tugged his beast away from a thorn bush.* "The world chews up and spits out idiots like you. Go home and be with family. Your 'perfect' core'll see to it that you don't have to suffer long."
*I spat to the side and grabbed my beam saber, spinning it in my blood slicked hand, my triggerwand in the other.*
"I already said." *I defied, thinking to my brother, my friend.* "I'm not doing these favors for myself." |
https://www.artstation.com/artwork/Lg5VR
artist name: Jinho Bae | [WP] Write a story about this pic that made the front page of reddit | "Of course they say it's just the sculpture of some long lost society," Dee said to his last yakkaa. "As if that was somehow inspiring."
Ta, Dee's faithful companion humphed. It was his favorite and easiest response. Dee rarely expected any more from the animal than an occasional exhale he could interpret as empathy and a pint of pale pink milk every few days.
"Is it really better to imagine that there were men like us--" Ta muumphed and Dee corrected himself "like me, sorry." The unlikely pair rounded the bend to approach the northern cliffside once again. "But is it better to imagine that once we were able to create such tremendous feats and lost that knowledge to the nether, never to be discovered again, or to face the fact that once we were tiny and weak and ineffectual compared to those giants?"
Ta did not respond. Dee let his mind wander in this way when returning for the feast. It wasn't his fault, Ta knew. Humans worried too much about their place in the world and not enough about where they will find the meal after next.
It's why we yakaa have been here since before the Titans destroyed themselves, Ta thought. While the Neos shrunk and shrunk and shrunk until they were something else entirely. Never keeping their eyes on the important things: food, shelter, warmth. Always staring at that mountain and winding themselves into tinier and tinier packages.
Fools, Ta thought.
Dee held a small handful of sweet grain under Ta's snout which he gratefully munched. This one's not so bad, Ta thought. Even if he is just a foolish mortal.
Ta nudged Dee forward. The crag was still two miles to the valley floor and Ta was anxious for some fresh grass for once. | Ever since the dawn of humanity men have been pitted against each other. With the advancement of weaponry, and the human intellect on a constant rise, it was only a matter of time before this truth would bring man to his inevitable downfall. The final days resembled the myths of the ancient civilizations, as titan-sized men were created, with titan-sized egos and titan-sized tempers, to be engaged in the most epic of battles unlike the world had ever seen before.
The ability was thought to be introduced by the hands of Poseidon himself, when a deep-sea exploration team had stumbled onto an artifact that held powers unlike anything men had seen before. Soon after it was found, it was brought to a lab for analysis where scientists first discovered of its mystical properties, which shortly thereafter led to its grave misuse.
After it had been integrated into the defense systems, the rumors of the find had spread like a wildfire of whispers across the globe. With each and every person in a position of power becoming convinced that they could not be the last ones to have this magnificent and mysterious weapon that had gained traction with the code name “World Maker”, so spies were implemented from all over the Earth, and in time the blueprints of the thoroughly inspected and probed piece of machinery had been leaked, and the countdown of utter destruction would begin.
It has been nearly a century since its discovery, and only a few years sooner was man brought to the brink of extinction, with battles ensuing that would destroy multitudes of cities in a matter of hours, usually being brought on by only two to five titans at a time. The battles would be focused on hand to hand combat, with the earth depleted of most of its metal stores to make weaponry for those higher in command. They would launch each other miles at a time with a single blow, even mountains being crushed under the sheer brutality that was introduced into the world again.
After the last titan was killed, impaled by his own sword directly into the face of a particularly enormous mountainside, the last living titan made his way back home, with a single mission left to complete. Before the declaration of a worldwide state of war had first been announced it was unanimously agreed upon that if it came to it, the last survivor would be in charge of starting the fully automated repopulation system that had been the only focus of the most prominent heads in science during those final years, extinction was not an option.
The victorious titan lived out his final days in seclusion after he switched on the mainframe of the enormous self-sufficient and intricately planned underground lab that would create hundreds of test-tube humans, provide them a living space, and give them a fully disclosed series of videos and a magnificently stocked library to help them advance past the previous generation. Although one thing was never specified, because we simply never discovered it, the origin of the World Maker.
Little did we know that a small, seemingly insignificant creature would begin the domino effect many years ago that led to those horrors, as men became giants, and warriors then had the ability to truly demolish anything in their path. So long ago the useless porous beast began this destruction and he was only aided by a single belt buckle, deep under the sea, which had been regrettably set to Wumbo.
|
https://www.artstation.com/artwork/Lg5VR
artist name: Jinho Bae | [WP] Write a story about this pic that made the front page of reddit | "Of course they say it's just the sculpture of some long lost society," Dee said to his last yakkaa. "As if that was somehow inspiring."
Ta, Dee's faithful companion humphed. It was his favorite and easiest response. Dee rarely expected any more from the animal than an occasional exhale he could interpret as empathy and a pint of pale pink milk every few days.
"Is it really better to imagine that there were men like us--" Ta muumphed and Dee corrected himself "like me, sorry." The unlikely pair rounded the bend to approach the northern cliffside once again. "But is it better to imagine that once we were able to create such tremendous feats and lost that knowledge to the nether, never to be discovered again, or to face the fact that once we were tiny and weak and ineffectual compared to those giants?"
Ta did not respond. Dee let his mind wander in this way when returning for the feast. It wasn't his fault, Ta knew. Humans worried too much about their place in the world and not enough about where they will find the meal after next.
It's why we yakaa have been here since before the Titans destroyed themselves, Ta thought. While the Neos shrunk and shrunk and shrunk until they were something else entirely. Never keeping their eyes on the important things: food, shelter, warmth. Always staring at that mountain and winding themselves into tinier and tinier packages.
Fools, Ta thought.
Dee held a small handful of sweet grain under Ta's snout which he gratefully munched. This one's not so bad, Ta thought. Even if he is just a foolish mortal.
Ta nudged Dee forward. The crag was still two miles to the valley floor and Ta was anxious for some fresh grass for once. | He slowly and tiredly swung down from his horse, still not quite believing the truth that was right before his eyes. He had heard the rumors of it many times over the last fortnight on his journey back home to the valley.
As he gazed upon the scene he could not help but think ho many times he had remonstrated the big dumb fucker not to run with the tip pointing towards himself. |
https://www.artstation.com/artwork/Lg5VR
artist name: Jinho Bae | [WP] Write a story about this pic that made the front page of reddit | "Of course they say it's just the sculpture of some long lost society," Dee said to his last yakkaa. "As if that was somehow inspiring."
Ta, Dee's faithful companion humphed. It was his favorite and easiest response. Dee rarely expected any more from the animal than an occasional exhale he could interpret as empathy and a pint of pale pink milk every few days.
"Is it really better to imagine that there were men like us--" Ta muumphed and Dee corrected himself "like me, sorry." The unlikely pair rounded the bend to approach the northern cliffside once again. "But is it better to imagine that once we were able to create such tremendous feats and lost that knowledge to the nether, never to be discovered again, or to face the fact that once we were tiny and weak and ineffectual compared to those giants?"
Ta did not respond. Dee let his mind wander in this way when returning for the feast. It wasn't his fault, Ta knew. Humans worried too much about their place in the world and not enough about where they will find the meal after next.
It's why we yakaa have been here since before the Titans destroyed themselves, Ta thought. While the Neos shrunk and shrunk and shrunk until they were something else entirely. Never keeping their eyes on the important things: food, shelter, warmth. Always staring at that mountain and winding themselves into tinier and tinier packages.
Fools, Ta thought.
Dee held a small handful of sweet grain under Ta's snout which he gratefully munched. This one's not so bad, Ta thought. Even if he is just a foolish mortal.
Ta nudged Dee forward. The crag was still two miles to the valley floor and Ta was anxious for some fresh grass for once. | “Of course it’s fake,” the old man snapped to the young man sitting with him. “Did you think it was real?”
Taki squirmed and dug in the dirt with his knife, then looked at the fire. Finally he looked up, seeing it again, even in the darkness – the giant man, it’s bones as big as a mountain, the sword plunged into it. Slowly, he found his voice.
“I guess I did, Venerable Ancestor. All the other men joke about it, and say to keep away, that it’s haunted, and-“
“The men who say that,” Ancestor Rak said, “are only saying that to keep young men bursting to prove themselves away from the damn thing before they wreck it and what it’s there for.”
Taki cocked his head. “It’s been there for… longer than anything, anyway. How would they know what it’s there for?”
Rak snorted. “Everyone who’s not a child knows the history of why it’s there.”
“But… Giants are real… aren’t they?”
Rak lined back, settled deeper into his blanket while he looked up at the sky. “Yes,” he said, “it has been awhile, but they are real. It’s been an age since one’s been around here, but it happens. It might happen in your lifetime.”
Rak closed his eyes and smiled. “It’ll be at first a sense of foreboding. Birds will fly. Cows will give spoiled milk. Then you hear the steps – boom, boom, boom!” Taki jumped, and his Grandfather laughed. “Finally, you’ll see the giant, but it’ll be days away. They walk slow. It’ll come near to it.”
“How near?”
“Near for a giant”, Rak said. “Days off. But it’ll see it. And it’ll be scared, and turn back the way it came, and that’s all the giants this part of the world sees for an age. “
“I’d like to see a giant” whispered Taki.
“Listen grandson. Giants are like storms. They are like fires. When they show up, everything gets destroyed. They can’t be reasoned with. They can’t be bribed. They can’t be sated. They exist to raze the world”, Rak insisted, “not to be your friend. So, a clever man with a little wizarding in his blood and some knowledge of stone convinced a town, and they hired stonemasons and dwarves and carved a skeleton out of the mountain, and sank a stone sword into the mountain. They built a FAKE giant, killed by something much more powerful than any giant can be. And now?” He waved a hand around. “No more giants.”
Taki looked at it again, far off in the moonlight. “It really looks like a giant. “
Rak smiled. “It’s some of my best work!”
|
https://www.artstation.com/artwork/Lg5VR
artist name: Jinho Bae | [WP] Write a story about this pic that made the front page of reddit | "Of course they say it's just the sculpture of some long lost society," Dee said to his last yakkaa. "As if that was somehow inspiring."
Ta, Dee's faithful companion humphed. It was his favorite and easiest response. Dee rarely expected any more from the animal than an occasional exhale he could interpret as empathy and a pint of pale pink milk every few days.
"Is it really better to imagine that there were men like us--" Ta muumphed and Dee corrected himself "like me, sorry." The unlikely pair rounded the bend to approach the northern cliffside once again. "But is it better to imagine that once we were able to create such tremendous feats and lost that knowledge to the nether, never to be discovered again, or to face the fact that once we were tiny and weak and ineffectual compared to those giants?"
Ta did not respond. Dee let his mind wander in this way when returning for the feast. It wasn't his fault, Ta knew. Humans worried too much about their place in the world and not enough about where they will find the meal after next.
It's why we yakaa have been here since before the Titans destroyed themselves, Ta thought. While the Neos shrunk and shrunk and shrunk until they were something else entirely. Never keeping their eyes on the important things: food, shelter, warmth. Always staring at that mountain and winding themselves into tinier and tinier packages.
Fools, Ta thought.
Dee held a small handful of sweet grain under Ta's snout which he gratefully munched. This one's not so bad, Ta thought. Even if he is just a foolish mortal.
Ta nudged Dee forward. The crag was still two miles to the valley floor and Ta was anxious for some fresh grass for once. | "What's that, Pa?" asked Young Jim, in his typical sunny, inquisitive tone.
"Use your eyes, lad," said his father, Jim. "It's a bloody great skellyton innit?"
"But... but where did it come from?"
"Are ye daft, boy? It come from a bloody great person. Where else?"
"But where did the person come from, Pa?"
"Ach, lad! Ye're too old for such questions! You've seen the young rams in the spring, when we let them out in the pasture for the first time, and they have it away with the ewes. You know well where people come from, so don't go trying to embarrass your beleaguered pa with such talk."
"Pa, that's not what I meant! I mean... he's nearly the size of the mountain! Where did such huge people come from? Where do they live?"
"In bloody huge houses, I would imagine."
Young Jim sighed in frustration and decided to change tactics. "Alright then, Pa. Answer me this: that great big skellyton... it come from a great big man, right?"
"I never heard of one that didn't, lad."
"So the great man that the skellyton used to be... who was he?"
"He were an arsehole, son," said Jim, with no hesitation.
Young Jim was momentarily nonplussed, but he rallied quickly. "You've made that up! You couldn't possibly know that!"
"Boy... Yer old man is a great many things, but a liar he is not. I speaks only truth."
"But... how do you know he was an arsehole, Pa?"
"Because ye don't get run through the gullet with a fooking gigantic sword for being friendly," said Jim.
Young Jim burst into laughter, the kind of musical, honest laughter that only children can manage. His father held his composure for a moment, but only a moment, before he was laughing out loud as well. He looked on his son and beamed with pride. The boy was sharp enough to split thread. Jim was nearly twice his age when his own father, now Old Jim, had run out of answers for the skelly-man game and been forced to admit that he didn't know. At the rate he was going, Young Jim would wear him out before his next birthday. He decided he'd better change the subject.
"Enough nonsense. We've still a long way to go to make home before we lose the light. Old Catriona's not as sure-footed as she once was, lad. Why don't you take her lead and guide her through this rocky part? Careful, now..."
The boy took the ass' lead rope with deliberate reverence and gently guided the beast down the mountain. His father followed close behind, smiling. |
https://www.artstation.com/artwork/Lg5VR
artist name: Jinho Bae | [WP] Write a story about this pic that made the front page of reddit | 1.The area has always been famous for vultures.
2."Goodbye, dear brother."
Sk'aruk kissed his brother, now had turned into a mountain, on the forehead. The Age of the Giants had gone, ended like a late dream awakened suddenly by the morning dew. They learned too fast. And once a race has grasped the true concept of Life, it must go. That's the law. But Sk'aruk was reluctant to let go, for he longed to stay in this Creation for more. His brethens, benevolent and kind, understood this. So, while they merged into Creation, Sk'aruk was left to look after the next race.
And harsh winters he survived. Such is the curse for those who wish to stay. The new race must start anew. But Sk'aruk overcame them all, with love to warm his frozen body and with hope to oil his ancient mind. Eventually, Life gave out. A new Age began.
3.Sk'aruk taught the New Men how to light fire, the first one he took from the sun and ignited a mountain, which used to be his sister, from the inside. He taught them to fear the blaze and to worship it, to keep it burning until no man was there to keep it burning. Fire in the heart and fire in the palm. Such was the first light of civilization.
Sk'aruk was amused, for nothing had kept him going but the curiosity of how an Age begins.
Then, the Giant taught the New Men to condense words into markings, and to preserve those markings. One can only move forward if one knows where he has been. The tribe he was looking after grew like never before, but they were always travelling. Just like the wind, constantly on the move. And how Sk'aruk hated the wind. There would be no meaning to be derived out of a life on the run.
Thus, he taught them to tame plants and beasts, that is, to farm and raise livestocks. He taught them to build caves to reside in, and to shape these caves to their will. Lastly, as he dug the bones of his brethens out of the earth, he taught them to make tools, better tools, sharper tools. For that, they crafted him a blade of his size.
By now, the New Men no longer did worship the blaze, they worshipped Sk'aruk, who had taught them to conquer Creation, or at least a part of it.
4.The New Men grew.... different. Too different. They treated their own kind no better than livestocks, enslaving them. They plundered instead of create, dirtying the remains of being they called Gods with their foul blood. They dismembered one another and offered the butchered bodies to Sk'aruk. Worst of all, they were no longer afraid of Creation.
This troubled Sk'aruk greatly. The New Men were too smart for their own good. They bended his teachings with their lean tongue, turning him into the cause and salvation of their suffering, using him to gain more power and wealth. Therefore, Sk'aruk made a messenger out of mud, weaved her hair with the wind, her face with snow, her heart with flame and her tongue with water. Finally, he stole the stars and cloaked them around her to distinguish herself from others. The messenger, her tongue, which was made out of a liquid, preached about love and compassion. Peace returned to the New Men.
5."Sk'aruk, brother! You've got to stop."
Said G'tuakr in the veil of dreams.
"Brother!" - Sk'aruk greeted him warmly - "Why must I? The New Man has known love once more, and they shall know love until their Age dies!"
G'tuakr shook his head.
"You've become arrogant, dear brother. Arrogant and prideful. What you're doing is against the way of Creation. You've punished the New Men."
He then disappeared from the dream. Sk'aruk woke up from his slumber, horrified. His instinct told him to be horrified.
So he merged into the Earth and travelled to where his messenger was. To his horror, the New Men were taking turns defiling her sacred body. Some did it out of lust, some did it in hope she would bear their children, children with Godlike powers. Some did it without a purpose, as if it had been imprinted into their soul.
Furious, Sk'aruk pulled the giant blade out of the ground, detemined to obliterate the New Men completely. But his messenger begged him not to, for how could he be teaching about love and compassion when he turns to hatred in time when forgiveness is needed?
Sk'aruk grabbed the messenger in his hand, and stormed away.
6.It was his sin for interfering with the way of Creation. It was his sin that had darkened the souls of the New Men. It was his sin when he never let the New Men overcame their challenges the hard way. The New Men had learned nothing but to cheat their way out of Life.
Sk'aruk rested next to his brother's body. The messenger, filled with self-contempt and fury, had long crumbledbin his palm.
Slowly, Sk'aruk thrusted the blade into his chest. He wished to take in the pain, if it would lessen the sins of the New Men.
7.In icy cold condition, it is very difficult for a body to decompose.
The area has always been famous for vultures. | And there we stood, at the Throat of the World. The biting cold and chilling winds relentlessly lashed at our weathered frames. I looked up to my companion, and heaved a slight sigh of relief knowing that our destination lay across the vast chasm. Our last hurdle before we reach the coveted Altar of Kings located within the decrepit skeletal remains of the World Eater.
I had not understood the importance of such a pilgrimage, not understanding the reason why my elders were overjoyed when I was chosen for such a task. But having been on this journey for what seemed like a lifetime, I found my own purpose in this journey. I beckoned to move onwards, to complete the journey.
--------
As we set camp one last time at the base of the altar, I gazed upon the stars through the gargantuan ribs. I revelled in the fact that my purpose finally in the pilgrimage is finally coming to a close. The only thing left is the Sacrifice.
I looked at my companion, her sacrificial knife poised above her head. The last few words I heard as the knife plunged into my heart, were words of good byes. |
https://www.artstation.com/artwork/Lg5VR
artist name: Jinho Bae | [WP] Write a story about this pic that made the front page of reddit | Ragnarok had come and gone.
They came like a flood from the mountains, roaring and charging down from Jötunheimr. The terrible, towering Jötnar had fought with centuries old rage. Most of our gods were killed in the first onslaught, and Valhall was burnt to the ground.
Men and women from all over rallied to fight.
All Vikings, all warriors. Refusing to lose, but wanting to die.
This last chance to prove our worth, to gain entrance to the afterlife.
Slowly, but surely, the Jötunn fell one by one. Our warriors died in the thousands for every Jötunn, but our numbers were seemingly without end.
We would not give in. We would fight. To our last breath.
It has been a couple of years now since the fighting stopped. The gods are quiet and the people have calmed. Villages bond together, families settles old grudges and the people prosper.
One could still find remains from the cataclysmic event littered across the country, but most notably the Jötunn king. His body still lying on his throne up in Jötunheimr, impaled by his own sword, as a testament to mankinds fury and tenacity.
Perhaps the world would be a better place now. No more wars, trifles or hate. With no gods. Just man. | And there we stood, at the Throat of the World. The biting cold and chilling winds relentlessly lashed at our weathered frames. I looked up to my companion, and heaved a slight sigh of relief knowing that our destination lay across the vast chasm. Our last hurdle before we reach the coveted Altar of Kings located within the decrepit skeletal remains of the World Eater.
I had not understood the importance of such a pilgrimage, not understanding the reason why my elders were overjoyed when I was chosen for such a task. But having been on this journey for what seemed like a lifetime, I found my own purpose in this journey. I beckoned to move onwards, to complete the journey.
--------
As we set camp one last time at the base of the altar, I gazed upon the stars through the gargantuan ribs. I revelled in the fact that my purpose finally in the pilgrimage is finally coming to a close. The only thing left is the Sacrifice.
I looked at my companion, her sacrificial knife poised above her head. The last few words I heard as the knife plunged into my heart, were words of good byes. |
https://www.artstation.com/artwork/Lg5VR
artist name: Jinho Bae | [WP] Write a story about this pic that made the front page of reddit | Ragnarok had come and gone.
They came like a flood from the mountains, roaring and charging down from Jötunheimr. The terrible, towering Jötnar had fought with centuries old rage. Most of our gods were killed in the first onslaught, and Valhall was burnt to the ground.
Men and women from all over rallied to fight.
All Vikings, all warriors. Refusing to lose, but wanting to die.
This last chance to prove our worth, to gain entrance to the afterlife.
Slowly, but surely, the Jötunn fell one by one. Our warriors died in the thousands for every Jötunn, but our numbers were seemingly without end.
We would not give in. We would fight. To our last breath.
It has been a couple of years now since the fighting stopped. The gods are quiet and the people have calmed. Villages bond together, families settles old grudges and the people prosper.
One could still find remains from the cataclysmic event littered across the country, but most notably the Jötunn king. His body still lying on his throne up in Jötunheimr, impaled by his own sword, as a testament to mankinds fury and tenacity.
Perhaps the world would be a better place now. No more wars, trifles or hate. With no gods. Just man. | Ragged breaths escape me as I reach the zenith. Here I can see all, here I can finally be alone, just me, my faithful companion, and memories.
There are those that call me crazy, those who think I’m a senile old man, unable to tell reality from fiction. But there are a few, just a few, who know. They believe because deep down they know. We all know.
I am one of a kind. The only to live through the time of both man and beast. My age is measured not in years but millennia, my wealth is incalculable, and my power, it is enormous. Even that word is not enough to describe what I became, what I had to become.
When I was first born, humans were but a dot on the map, we were not the dominant species, instead we were prey. Those who were dominant took pity on us. Mostly because they looked just like us, talked just like us. In fact, the only difference was they were huge. Ginormous, immeasurable beings that ruled this planet.
When I first turned 10 I saw my first giant. I looked up and I felt it, my heart began to beat. It was not the scared racing of my heart, but instead the steady beat, calling to me like a warriors drum.
On that day I knew, I will be the one that brings us up, the one that establishes humanity as the dominant power.
On that day my journey started. I old my parents that if I am to survive I must learn for myself, and I left, taking only a bit of food.
On that day, I became a man.
On that day, I became a god.
I gained powers men had never dreamed of, my life increased but I was never immortal, I could still be killed. But most importantly I gained the ability to become a giant.
I could fight them in even combat. And I could win.
Now here I sit. At the site of my final battle. I have kept this place from forming around him. Holding nature back with my shear will. But soon, I will not be here to hold it back and nature will claim him once more.
I stand here at the site of my greatest victory,
Or was it my greatest mistake? |
https://www.artstation.com/artwork/Lg5VR
artist name: Jinho Bae | [WP] Write a story about this pic that made the front page of reddit | On the edge of myth and legend, the forgotten sleeps. Its bones lie ignored by time, its ashes blown away. The mountains form its bed; the clouds mark its tomb. Its name lost to the days before the moon.
It rests unknown to the life it sought to create or to destroy. The flock may roost, but they do not see. Naught is left of the golden halls. Only rocks stained red and ice covered stones.
It sleeps without epitaph. No final word to mark its passing. No song left for the living. A corpse from a time before memory, from a time before time. A story never told. The lost. The unknown. The whisper that ends the world.
Break not the silence that engulfs these hills. Seek not the glory of secrets unearthed. Follow time’s example and leave it behind. Let memory mourn in peace.
For here a god died. For here I remain. | Ragged breaths escape me as I reach the zenith. Here I can see all, here I can finally be alone, just me, my faithful companion, and memories.
There are those that call me crazy, those who think I’m a senile old man, unable to tell reality from fiction. But there are a few, just a few, who know. They believe because deep down they know. We all know.
I am one of a kind. The only to live through the time of both man and beast. My age is measured not in years but millennia, my wealth is incalculable, and my power, it is enormous. Even that word is not enough to describe what I became, what I had to become.
When I was first born, humans were but a dot on the map, we were not the dominant species, instead we were prey. Those who were dominant took pity on us. Mostly because they looked just like us, talked just like us. In fact, the only difference was they were huge. Ginormous, immeasurable beings that ruled this planet.
When I first turned 10 I saw my first giant. I looked up and I felt it, my heart began to beat. It was not the scared racing of my heart, but instead the steady beat, calling to me like a warriors drum.
On that day I knew, I will be the one that brings us up, the one that establishes humanity as the dominant power.
On that day my journey started. I old my parents that if I am to survive I must learn for myself, and I left, taking only a bit of food.
On that day, I became a man.
On that day, I became a god.
I gained powers men had never dreamed of, my life increased but I was never immortal, I could still be killed. But most importantly I gained the ability to become a giant.
I could fight them in even combat. And I could win.
Now here I sit. At the site of my final battle. I have kept this place from forming around him. Holding nature back with my shear will. But soon, I will not be here to hold it back and nature will claim him once more.
I stand here at the site of my greatest victory,
Or was it my greatest mistake? |
https://www.artstation.com/artwork/Lg5VR
artist name: Jinho Bae | [WP] Write a story about this pic that made the front page of reddit | "Bloody inconvenience... couldn't have at least shrunk to a reasonable size before he died?"
Brum shot a look of annoyance at his travel companion. "Can't show at least a *little* respect?"
Jinseth stood at the edge of the cliff, hands clasped firmly behind his back, the hood of his traveling cloak pulled low, obscuring his face.
He sighed, "Respect? That's a pile of bones. Whatever god that was died what, 1000 years ago? Give or take a few hundred? Whatever he was doesn't matter now."
Brum shifted uncomfortably as he remembered all the legends he was raised on.
"Well, he's gone, but that don't mean he don't hear what we say."
A heavier sigh, "By the very *definition* of death, it means he can't hear us. I could say whatever I like about him and he can't say a single word in response."
Brum looked out at the massive skeleton that was once the god of human kind. "It still don't seem right to speak ill of the dead. Especially a god."
Jin harumphed, "I could shout whatever I wish about him, for instance; that he was A MASSIVE PILE OF BACKWATER SHITE!"
The sudden noise caused several mountain birds to take flight. Brum grabbed the clocked figure, yanking him from the ledge to face him.
"Should I remind ya that we are trying to travel in ya own words 'covert like'? Shout'n to the valley is gonna draw attention."
A darting forked tounge and a hint of a smile was all he could see under the hood. "Covertly. The word is covertly. You may want to spend some of your fee on a book or five."
"I'll spend me gold on whatever I wish, scale skin."
"Oh, must we resort to petty name calling? I truely don't feel like remembering every derogatory name for humans." Jinseth began down the path again, hands clasped behind his back once more. He glanced back over his shoulder, "And truly, scale skin? Simply describing my physical appearance is the most creative insult you could think of? Now hurry up. I didn't pay you to gawk at dead gods."
Brum stood, hand resting in the pomel of his sword and muttered under his breath, "Fook'n lizards. Bunch of pompous arses."
"Our pompous arses also have quite sensitive hearing Brum." | Ragged breaths escape me as I reach the zenith. Here I can see all, here I can finally be alone, just me, my faithful companion, and memories.
There are those that call me crazy, those who think I’m a senile old man, unable to tell reality from fiction. But there are a few, just a few, who know. They believe because deep down they know. We all know.
I am one of a kind. The only to live through the time of both man and beast. My age is measured not in years but millennia, my wealth is incalculable, and my power, it is enormous. Even that word is not enough to describe what I became, what I had to become.
When I was first born, humans were but a dot on the map, we were not the dominant species, instead we were prey. Those who were dominant took pity on us. Mostly because they looked just like us, talked just like us. In fact, the only difference was they were huge. Ginormous, immeasurable beings that ruled this planet.
When I first turned 10 I saw my first giant. I looked up and I felt it, my heart began to beat. It was not the scared racing of my heart, but instead the steady beat, calling to me like a warriors drum.
On that day I knew, I will be the one that brings us up, the one that establishes humanity as the dominant power.
On that day my journey started. I old my parents that if I am to survive I must learn for myself, and I left, taking only a bit of food.
On that day, I became a man.
On that day, I became a god.
I gained powers men had never dreamed of, my life increased but I was never immortal, I could still be killed. But most importantly I gained the ability to become a giant.
I could fight them in even combat. And I could win.
Now here I sit. At the site of my final battle. I have kept this place from forming around him. Holding nature back with my shear will. But soon, I will not be here to hold it back and nature will claim him once more.
I stand here at the site of my greatest victory,
Or was it my greatest mistake? |
https://www.artstation.com/artwork/Lg5VR
artist name: Jinho Bae | [WP] Write a story about this pic that made the front page of reddit | The rising sun bathed the monstrous skull in flesh-like hues as Vandre studied the scene. The ancient blade piercing bone and mountainside alike stood untouched by rust or decay thanks to the dehydrating gales of the Stenkæft Mountains.
Legends, like the howling winds, whipped around the mountains and eroded any unpreserved history into dust. The Mennskel living at the southern feet of the Stenkæfts had told Vandre that the skeleton was nothing more than a statue carved from the mountains by the Dværgers as a warning to others, but he had seen more than enough dead bodies to know a genuine corpse when it lay before him.
The Fâfadine monks who had found the traveller unconscious on a snowdrift had claimed the bones were the remains of the demi-god Beinsønn after his defeat at the hands of the mighty giant Svarthak. Vandre had never had time for such superstitions, but now that his eyes fell upon the smooth curve of the hand-guard and tattered bindings of the hilt, the blade did appear to be of gigantean design.
The voyager laid his staff aside and stroked his bored mountain-hound. “This is as far as you go now, girl,” he assured. “We’re almost at the realm of the frost titans.”
The dog looked uncertainly up at Vandre as the wanderer removed her leash.
“Go on, then," he insisted. "*Skitt*.”
The man watched the animal turn and bound back down the snow-laden path, probably in search of food. With a smile as dry as the icy air tugging at his coat, Vandre pulled out a worn leather book and turned to the section on the necromantic rites. | Ragged breaths escape me as I reach the zenith. Here I can see all, here I can finally be alone, just me, my faithful companion, and memories.
There are those that call me crazy, those who think I’m a senile old man, unable to tell reality from fiction. But there are a few, just a few, who know. They believe because deep down they know. We all know.
I am one of a kind. The only to live through the time of both man and beast. My age is measured not in years but millennia, my wealth is incalculable, and my power, it is enormous. Even that word is not enough to describe what I became, what I had to become.
When I was first born, humans were but a dot on the map, we were not the dominant species, instead we were prey. Those who were dominant took pity on us. Mostly because they looked just like us, talked just like us. In fact, the only difference was they were huge. Ginormous, immeasurable beings that ruled this planet.
When I first turned 10 I saw my first giant. I looked up and I felt it, my heart began to beat. It was not the scared racing of my heart, but instead the steady beat, calling to me like a warriors drum.
On that day I knew, I will be the one that brings us up, the one that establishes humanity as the dominant power.
On that day my journey started. I old my parents that if I am to survive I must learn for myself, and I left, taking only a bit of food.
On that day, I became a man.
On that day, I became a god.
I gained powers men had never dreamed of, my life increased but I was never immortal, I could still be killed. But most importantly I gained the ability to become a giant.
I could fight them in even combat. And I could win.
Now here I sit. At the site of my final battle. I have kept this place from forming around him. Holding nature back with my shear will. But soon, I will not be here to hold it back and nature will claim him once more.
I stand here at the site of my greatest victory,
Or was it my greatest mistake? |
https://www.artstation.com/artwork/Lg5VR
artist name: Jinho Bae | [WP] Write a story about this pic that made the front page of reddit | Ragnarok had come and gone.
They came like a flood from the mountains, roaring and charging down from Jötunheimr. The terrible, towering Jötnar had fought with centuries old rage. Most of our gods were killed in the first onslaught, and Valhall was burnt to the ground.
Men and women from all over rallied to fight.
All Vikings, all warriors. Refusing to lose, but wanting to die.
This last chance to prove our worth, to gain entrance to the afterlife.
Slowly, but surely, the Jötunn fell one by one. Our warriors died in the thousands for every Jötunn, but our numbers were seemingly without end.
We would not give in. We would fight. To our last breath.
It has been a couple of years now since the fighting stopped. The gods are quiet and the people have calmed. Villages bond together, families settles old grudges and the people prosper.
One could still find remains from the cataclysmic event littered across the country, but most notably the Jötunn king. His body still lying on his throne up in Jötunheimr, impaled by his own sword, as a testament to mankinds fury and tenacity.
Perhaps the world would be a better place now. No more wars, trifles or hate. With no gods. Just man. | Here no longer lies the sight of once forever death. Seen no more by captivated eyes, no more a wanting reach. Muffled screams no longer heard upon this mountain side. Valleys below no longer shake from quivering pulsing pain. Eternally forgotten here amongst the mountain's slope, a giant stays accursed he forever shouts. From high does a mighty sword bind him to that rock and everyday he remembers his long forgotten life.
The birds come down to feed on open wound, and flesh is torn piece by piece til nothing remains but bone. Then with the sun's daily rise he slowly begins to feel. Mind returns to the body and flesh to the bone. All the while in his everlasting pain he is to remember every soul who's eyes laid upon him and know he cannot touch them. Never is he given a blissful moment's pause but to feel every moment of the day. His shattering shouts halted by an all intruding veil, and never can his voice reach those who would stand to listen.
"And here up top this mountain path did I hear that mighty titan shout. His voice parted clouds and the icy caps showered down." The old man sat on the rock and stared out at the circling birds.
"And so you sit here still on this path and watch?" A voice asked from behind.
"Of course for without me how would he know someone can see?" He pulled his coat tighter around himself bracing against the cold.
"Why would you want him to know?"
"It is a reminder, that this world still has those who can look upon him. Tell me what is it that you see?"
"A mountain and some circling birds, no more."
"So you do not believe the beast is there?"
"I believe the beast never existed in the first place."
"Why is a myth a myth unless it carries truth?" The old man asked.
His new found companion joined him on the rock. "So you come to remind this, titan, that it is still seen, that it is not forgotten?"
"Look there." The old man pointed out toward the mountain. "There is the sword buried within its chest where it is chained to the mountain. I do not come here to remind him he is not forgotten." The old man smiled.
"Then why?"
"Because the pain of his punishment is doesn't compare to the pain of being reminded that even if he can still be seen he will never be heard and he can never feel anything more." There was a loud roll of thunder as the old man finished speaking.
The other man quickly looked to his elderly aquantince, but found he had disappeared. He sat in silence staring at the mountain side across the valley. "How long have you come to remind him of his endless suffering?" He said to the open air. The man pulled himself up from the rock and took a lasting look at the mountain. He smiled at the building flesh and waved as he slowly walked down the mountain path.
_
r/TheoreticalFictions |
https://www.artstation.com/artwork/Lg5VR
artist name: Jinho Bae | [WP] Write a story about this pic that made the front page of reddit | On the edge of myth and legend, the forgotten sleeps. Its bones lie ignored by time, its ashes blown away. The mountains form its bed; the clouds mark its tomb. Its name lost to the days before the moon.
It rests unknown to the life it sought to create or to destroy. The flock may roost, but they do not see. Naught is left of the golden halls. Only rocks stained red and ice covered stones.
It sleeps without epitaph. No final word to mark its passing. No song left for the living. A corpse from a time before memory, from a time before time. A story never told. The lost. The unknown. The whisper that ends the world.
Break not the silence that engulfs these hills. Seek not the glory of secrets unearthed. Follow time’s example and leave it behind. Let memory mourn in peace.
For here a god died. For here I remain. | An old man travels the road once a year with his faithful travel companion. It's a long and hard journey. As the years go by the travel has become more difficult and takes twice as long as it did when he was a man of twenty.
The man takes a long hard look at his long ago triumph. He turns to his old friend the dog by his side, for the last twelve journeys "No one believed I could do it, you know." He waits for the dogs gaze to turn to the remains before continuing.
"Hell even I had my doubts." The old man knows this may be the last journey he takes in his long life. Every year for sixty years he's travel to this spot. To gaze up at his prize. He morns what the beast took from him those sixty year wounds still unhealed. He never remarried or had another son to bear his name.
He lived his long life as the beast slayer. He killed the last giant living. Most think it myth that they ever lived in the first place. Folk tales and fairy talk. Only the old know the truth. The old man sheds the last tear before slowly walking away. "Come now Sledge. There is is a long walk home for us yet."
Edit it to fix a few of the things you guy mentioned! |
https://www.artstation.com/artwork/Lg5VR
artist name: Jinho Bae | [WP] Write a story about this pic that made the front page of reddit | "Bloody inconvenience... couldn't have at least shrunk to a reasonable size before he died?"
Brum shot a look of annoyance at his travel companion. "Can't show at least a *little* respect?"
Jinseth stood at the edge of the cliff, hands clasped firmly behind his back, the hood of his traveling cloak pulled low, obscuring his face.
He sighed, "Respect? That's a pile of bones. Whatever god that was died what, 1000 years ago? Give or take a few hundred? Whatever he was doesn't matter now."
Brum shifted uncomfortably as he remembered all the legends he was raised on.
"Well, he's gone, but that don't mean he don't hear what we say."
A heavier sigh, "By the very *definition* of death, it means he can't hear us. I could say whatever I like about him and he can't say a single word in response."
Brum looked out at the massive skeleton that was once the god of human kind. "It still don't seem right to speak ill of the dead. Especially a god."
Jin harumphed, "I could shout whatever I wish about him, for instance; that he was A MASSIVE PILE OF BACKWATER SHITE!"
The sudden noise caused several mountain birds to take flight. Brum grabbed the clocked figure, yanking him from the ledge to face him.
"Should I remind ya that we are trying to travel in ya own words 'covert like'? Shout'n to the valley is gonna draw attention."
A darting forked tounge and a hint of a smile was all he could see under the hood. "Covertly. The word is covertly. You may want to spend some of your fee on a book or five."
"I'll spend me gold on whatever I wish, scale skin."
"Oh, must we resort to petty name calling? I truely don't feel like remembering every derogatory name for humans." Jinseth began down the path again, hands clasped behind his back once more. He glanced back over his shoulder, "And truly, scale skin? Simply describing my physical appearance is the most creative insult you could think of? Now hurry up. I didn't pay you to gawk at dead gods."
Brum stood, hand resting in the pomel of his sword and muttered under his breath, "Fook'n lizards. Bunch of pompous arses."
"Our pompous arses also have quite sensitive hearing Brum." | An old man travels the road once a year with his faithful travel companion. It's a long and hard journey. As the years go by the travel has become more difficult and takes twice as long as it did when he was a man of twenty.
The man takes a long hard look at his long ago triumph. He turns to his old friend the dog by his side, for the last twelve journeys "No one believed I could do it, you know." He waits for the dogs gaze to turn to the remains before continuing.
"Hell even I had my doubts." The old man knows this may be the last journey he takes in his long life. Every year for sixty years he's travel to this spot. To gaze up at his prize. He morns what the beast took from him those sixty year wounds still unhealed. He never remarried or had another son to bear his name.
He lived his long life as the beast slayer. He killed the last giant living. Most think it myth that they ever lived in the first place. Folk tales and fairy talk. Only the old know the truth. The old man sheds the last tear before slowly walking away. "Come now Sledge. There is is a long walk home for us yet."
Edit it to fix a few of the things you guy mentioned! |
https://www.artstation.com/artwork/Lg5VR
artist name: Jinho Bae | [WP] Write a story about this pic that made the front page of reddit | The rising sun bathed the monstrous skull in flesh-like hues as Vandre studied the scene. The ancient blade piercing bone and mountainside alike stood untouched by rust or decay thanks to the dehydrating gales of the Stenkæft Mountains.
Legends, like the howling winds, whipped around the mountains and eroded any unpreserved history into dust. The Mennskel living at the southern feet of the Stenkæfts had told Vandre that the skeleton was nothing more than a statue carved from the mountains by the Dværgers as a warning to others, but he had seen more than enough dead bodies to know a genuine corpse when it lay before him.
The Fâfadine monks who had found the traveller unconscious on a snowdrift had claimed the bones were the remains of the demi-god Beinsønn after his defeat at the hands of the mighty giant Svarthak. Vandre had never had time for such superstitions, but now that his eyes fell upon the smooth curve of the hand-guard and tattered bindings of the hilt, the blade did appear to be of gigantean design.
The voyager laid his staff aside and stroked his bored mountain-hound. “This is as far as you go now, girl,” he assured. “We’re almost at the realm of the frost titans.”
The dog looked uncertainly up at Vandre as the wanderer removed her leash.
“Go on, then," he insisted. "*Skitt*.”
The man watched the animal turn and bound back down the snow-laden path, probably in search of food. With a smile as dry as the icy air tugging at his coat, Vandre pulled out a worn leather book and turned to the section on the necromantic rites. | An old man travels the road once a year with his faithful travel companion. It's a long and hard journey. As the years go by the travel has become more difficult and takes twice as long as it did when he was a man of twenty.
The man takes a long hard look at his long ago triumph. He turns to his old friend the dog by his side, for the last twelve journeys "No one believed I could do it, you know." He waits for the dogs gaze to turn to the remains before continuing.
"Hell even I had my doubts." The old man knows this may be the last journey he takes in his long life. Every year for sixty years he's travel to this spot. To gaze up at his prize. He morns what the beast took from him those sixty year wounds still unhealed. He never remarried or had another son to bear his name.
He lived his long life as the beast slayer. He killed the last giant living. Most think it myth that they ever lived in the first place. Folk tales and fairy talk. Only the old know the truth. The old man sheds the last tear before slowly walking away. "Come now Sledge. There is is a long walk home for us yet."
Edit it to fix a few of the things you guy mentioned! |
https://www.artstation.com/artwork/Lg5VR
artist name: Jinho Bae | [WP] Write a story about this pic that made the front page of reddit | "It matters little," said the monk without looking up from the uneaten bread and barley in the bowl before him. "He is dead."
The old man had returned from the yearly pilgrimage into the high mountains, and despite the fanfare which customarily greeted his return, he had remained morose and had withered without food. When pressed for explanation, his response was always the same.
"It matters little," said the monk. "He is dead."
To hear the monk speak repetition was nothing new, but replaced were the solemn hymns of humility or the boisterous rantings of exaltation. The only words which graced his weak lips...
"It matters little. He is dead."
The town matched the monk's melancholy, and soon the region felt the monk's depression. On the Sundays when the people would gather to hear the monks words, they would wait with patient excitement for the return of his exuberance, but instead he would stand before them with arms raised not towards Heaven nor to the mountain, but hanging by his sides with dejection.
"It matters little," said the monk. "He is dead."
After weeks, the quiet restlessness of the people at last brought action. They came to the monastery from the valley farms below and accumulated upon the mountain like flakes from the storm. First one fell to their knees in prayer, then another, and another, until every foot of monastic hill was covered in the prayers of the people. And the monk appeared. And he spoke.
"It matters little. He is dead."
But this time it was not enough. There rose a shout from the crowd. A demand. A call for an answer.
And thus spoke the monk:
*I came to the high valley of God, to bathe once more in his light. And where there once was the mightiest of kings was only the remains of what was. Thrust through the heart of God was a sword. His own sword. The sword of justice which he promised to swiftly bring was brought not upon the evil heart of this world, but upon his own breast. The king of kings, the lord of all, the God with whom we hold covenant has fallen upon his own sword and claimed justice upon himself.*
There was a moment of silence from the shocked crowd before a voice called out. "What do we do now?"
"It matters little," said the monk. "He is dead." | An old man travels the road once a year with his faithful travel companion. It's a long and hard journey. As the years go by the travel has become more difficult and takes twice as long as it did when he was a man of twenty.
The man takes a long hard look at his long ago triumph. He turns to his old friend the dog by his side, for the last twelve journeys "No one believed I could do it, you know." He waits for the dogs gaze to turn to the remains before continuing.
"Hell even I had my doubts." The old man knows this may be the last journey he takes in his long life. Every year for sixty years he's travel to this spot. To gaze up at his prize. He morns what the beast took from him those sixty year wounds still unhealed. He never remarried or had another son to bear his name.
He lived his long life as the beast slayer. He killed the last giant living. Most think it myth that they ever lived in the first place. Folk tales and fairy talk. Only the old know the truth. The old man sheds the last tear before slowly walking away. "Come now Sledge. There is is a long walk home for us yet."
Edit it to fix a few of the things you guy mentioned! |
https://www.artstation.com/artwork/Lg5VR
artist name: Jinho Bae | [WP] Write a story about this pic that made the front page of reddit | The rising sun bathed the monstrous skull in flesh-like hues as Vandre studied the scene. The ancient blade piercing bone and mountainside alike stood untouched by rust or decay thanks to the dehydrating gales of the Stenkæft Mountains.
Legends, like the howling winds, whipped around the mountains and eroded any unpreserved history into dust. The Mennskel living at the southern feet of the Stenkæfts had told Vandre that the skeleton was nothing more than a statue carved from the mountains by the Dværgers as a warning to others, but he had seen more than enough dead bodies to know a genuine corpse when it lay before him.
The Fâfadine monks who had found the traveller unconscious on a snowdrift had claimed the bones were the remains of the demi-god Beinsønn after his defeat at the hands of the mighty giant Svarthak. Vandre had never had time for such superstitions, but now that his eyes fell upon the smooth curve of the hand-guard and tattered bindings of the hilt, the blade did appear to be of gigantean design.
The voyager laid his staff aside and stroked his bored mountain-hound. “This is as far as you go now, girl,” he assured. “We’re almost at the realm of the frost titans.”
The dog looked uncertainly up at Vandre as the wanderer removed her leash.
“Go on, then," he insisted. "*Skitt*.”
The man watched the animal turn and bound back down the snow-laden path, probably in search of food. With a smile as dry as the icy air tugging at his coat, Vandre pulled out a worn leather book and turned to the section on the necromantic rites. | "Bloody inconvenience... couldn't have at least shrunk to a reasonable size before he died?"
Brum shot a look of annoyance at his travel companion. "Can't show at least a *little* respect?"
Jinseth stood at the edge of the cliff, hands clasped firmly behind his back, the hood of his traveling cloak pulled low, obscuring his face.
He sighed, "Respect? That's a pile of bones. Whatever god that was died what, 1000 years ago? Give or take a few hundred? Whatever he was doesn't matter now."
Brum shifted uncomfortably as he remembered all the legends he was raised on.
"Well, he's gone, but that don't mean he don't hear what we say."
A heavier sigh, "By the very *definition* of death, it means he can't hear us. I could say whatever I like about him and he can't say a single word in response."
Brum looked out at the massive skeleton that was once the god of human kind. "It still don't seem right to speak ill of the dead. Especially a god."
Jin harumphed, "I could shout whatever I wish about him, for instance; that he was A MASSIVE PILE OF BACKWATER SHITE!"
The sudden noise caused several mountain birds to take flight. Brum grabbed the clocked figure, yanking him from the ledge to face him.
"Should I remind ya that we are trying to travel in ya own words 'covert like'? Shout'n to the valley is gonna draw attention."
A darting forked tounge and a hint of a smile was all he could see under the hood. "Covertly. The word is covertly. You may want to spend some of your fee on a book or five."
"I'll spend me gold on whatever I wish, scale skin."
"Oh, must we resort to petty name calling? I truely don't feel like remembering every derogatory name for humans." Jinseth began down the path again, hands clasped behind his back once more. He glanced back over his shoulder, "And truly, scale skin? Simply describing my physical appearance is the most creative insult you could think of? Now hurry up. I didn't pay you to gawk at dead gods."
Brum stood, hand resting in the pomel of his sword and muttered under his breath, "Fook'n lizards. Bunch of pompous arses."
"Our pompous arses also have quite sensitive hearing Brum." |
[WP] The bittersweet relationship between an immortal and someone who remembers their previous reincarnations. | (Bittersweet? Who needs bittersweet?)
"Don't fall, idiot." I called to my wife. "You know how much it sucks to wait for you to grow up again when you die?"
"Listen here, bitch." My wife, Amelia, climbed down from the roof she was working on. "At least I get to be young again!" Then we both burst out laughing. This was average banter between us.
Amelia had gone by several incarnations- male, female, short, tall, whatever. What didn't seem to change was her personality. Always spunky and sarcastic.
I was just the average immortal- alright, I guess average isn't how to word it, since I was the only immortal. The world knew me as the immortal woman who remarried every so often. It used to be a huge scandal whenever I started a relationship, but my celebrity status had mostly faded over hundreds of years.
"Yeah, and you seem to always get labeled as a genius. I can't do that, since I'm already old as shit." I sat back on the bench in our yard.
"Yeah, but you're a genius too. Anyone would be after living- how long?"
"....I've only kept track of the years for moments like this." I grinned, but before I could say anything...
"9001?"
"...Yep."
| "It's being tired, more than anything, isn't it?" Andrew says. "Not tired in an 'I'm old, and my bones ache, and I want to go to sleep at 5pm way...'"
"I know what you mean," I reply. "Honestly, Andrew, it's best not to think about it."
Right now he has sunken features – droopy eye sockets and cheeks that cave inward. He's been a Japanese woman for some time now; we've never insisted on calling each other by the names we go by in the present. He was Andrew, and I was Emile, and that's how we shall remain to each other. It's who we were when we finally realized why we always felt the way we did – when we actually became ourselves. I wonder if this is the last time I'll see him like this.
"I'm sure you're right," he sighs.
The smells outside this coffee shop in Paris are pleasant. Both Andrew and I sip a small espresso, and I'm slowly eating a strawberry-jelly pastry, which I couldn't resist once I caught a whiff of the boulangerie next door – a small joy. A light rain elicits the scents of the concrete, here in the 6th arrondissement.
We meet here every five years now, when we can. When we first met, it was every year, but even though the travel is simpler than ever, when you live like we've lived, too much of anything – even your oldest friend's company – is disappointing.
He's the only other one I know. The only other person aware of their own immortality.
“Your grandchildren,” I ask. “How are they?”
“They're well,” he says. “Ah, not all well – I don't know why I would lie to you. Yuri was depressed and hung himself, about two years ago. His wife has never been the same.”
“I'm sorry to hear it,” I tell him.
I have a hard time telling whether I'm actually sorry, and whether he is actually seeking sympathy. Cynicism isn't the right word for my reaction to such happenings, but over the centuries, I've begun to treat them less like tragedies, or joyous occassions, or impactful moments, and more like facts. Like that it rains throughout the fall in Paris.
A cat crosses the street, darting from the inches-wide alley between the cafe and the bakery to the stone wall bordering the River Seine. It's a black cat, and it seeks out a shadow it can blend into as it walks along the wall.
“And have you married?” Andrew asks me.
He asks because I'm a young American man, handsome, if I may say so. I wear a suit most days, and keep my short hair parted to the side. I have green eyes, I think. I can't recall for certain. He asks because I wasn't married five years ago, when I last met him. This is third time we've met in this incarnation for me, since I've become old enough to travel. It would have been the fourth time, had my parents not shrugged off the notion of a twelve-year-old wanting to travel alone to Paris as ludicrous. Sometimes we miss each other when we come here, and I roam the Orsay and l'Orangerie.
“I have, actually.”
Andrew smiles. “What's their name?”
“Her name is Amy. I really think you'd like her. She has an adventurous spirit.”
Andrew won't ask to meet Amy: we decided a long time ago that we just couldn't do that kind of thing. It risks ruining the lives that we build for ourselves each incarnation, when the inevitable, “How did you meet?” questions arise. Amy's at the hotel on the Champs Elysees, some gaudy facade that's lit up like a Christmas tree on the outside, with marble pillars throughout the atrium. This morning, I told her that she deserves to sleep in during our honeymoon, and left the room with an umbrella.
“I'm happy for you,” he says.
He's my oldest friend, and in some ways, my only real friend. He's the only one I know who is capable of understanding what my perspective is like, why I am how I am. I'm sure there are others out there, aware of their own reincarnation, and of course, all humans do it, though mostly subconsciously. But for centuries, to suggest reincarnation existed was to blaspheme in the west. And despite some professing to believe in reincarnation in the east, their actual belief is as tenuous as the west's belief in blasphemy. Perhaps, with the internet having come about, reaching out to others may not be so difficult in the years to come. But I don't hold out hope for such things. In fact, I'm not sure that I'd really care that much to meet any others.
In the fifteenth century, outside of Salisbury, England, he was a smith's son, an apprentice, and I was the daughter of a farmer. We were married when he was nineteen. I was seventeen. It was at some point, in our marital bed, that he told me about his “strange dreams,” as he put it, dreams of being in faraway places he didn't comprehend. It was then that I confessed to also having “strange dreams,” but we agreed that these weren't dreams at all, that they were memories.
We exchange old stories, as well as the couple new ones worth mentioning that will likely fade from our memories after decades and centuries.
“This has been perfectly lovely, as usual,” he tells me, gingerly rising from his seat, and stabilizing his frail frame with a walking cane. I also rise from my chair, walk over to him, and we embrace.
“I look forward to the next one,” I tell him.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
First draft, haven't even re-read it bc I gotta go. I plan to revisit at some point soon. Sorry for any typos, I have a sticky "e" key. | |
[WP] The bittersweet relationship between an immortal and someone who remembers their previous reincarnations. | (Bittersweet? Who needs bittersweet?)
"Don't fall, idiot." I called to my wife. "You know how much it sucks to wait for you to grow up again when you die?"
"Listen here, bitch." My wife, Amelia, climbed down from the roof she was working on. "At least I get to be young again!" Then we both burst out laughing. This was average banter between us.
Amelia had gone by several incarnations- male, female, short, tall, whatever. What didn't seem to change was her personality. Always spunky and sarcastic.
I was just the average immortal- alright, I guess average isn't how to word it, since I was the only immortal. The world knew me as the immortal woman who remarried every so often. It used to be a huge scandal whenever I started a relationship, but my celebrity status had mostly faded over hundreds of years.
"Yeah, and you seem to always get labeled as a genius. I can't do that, since I'm already old as shit." I sat back on the bench in our yard.
"Yeah, but you're a genius too. Anyone would be after living- how long?"
"....I've only kept track of the years for moments like this." I grinned, but before I could say anything...
"9001?"
"...Yep."
| "Wait, I *know* you," she said, leaning across the counter. Her long hair, dyed blue, brushed against the display of candy. "I've seen you before."
Tuck shook his head and turned back to the computer. She was back again. For nearly seven hundred years, she'd haunted him. They crossed paths at least once every one of her lifetimes. This was the twenty-first time and the second time she recognized him.
"No, I hear that a lot. I look familiar to a lot of people."
Her hand reached across the counter and touched his, holding it still on the keyboard. He gasped a breath. Her touch was like electricity running up his arm.
"Tuck?"
*Oh no.* The last time she knew his name...he wanted to cry at the memory from two hundred years ago, still fresh in his mind. She'd been so lovely, so darling...and his. It was the only time they'd had a real relationship. When she died because he had to choose between her or their children.
He forced a smile instead. "You must have me confused with someone else."
She pointed at his name badge. "You're Tuck."
*Oh.* "Yes," he acknowledged. "That's my name."
"Can you just get what you came here for, lady? I don't have all day," a customer behind her grumbled.
She shifted her bag on her shoulder and leaned back. "Of course, sorry," she murmured to the man behind her. "I need a pair of windshield wipers for a 2010 Camry."
Tuck nodded. "Those will be in aisle eight." He pointed in that general direction, glad to have his hand free and regretting the loss of contact at the same time.
She moved away from the counter and the dour-faced man approached. Tuck squeezed his eyes closed for a second and then smiled. "How can I help you, sir?"
***
Allison knew him, she as positive of that. She stood in the aisle staring blankly at the windshield wipers. There was something that her mind was trying to piece together. His face, dirty, while he worked on a plow in the mid-1800s struck her. This was the first time she vividly remembered her past lives and she knew he was part of at least one.
Then the memories started to rush back. In the early 1900s, he was driving a model-T and gave her a ride after being thrown by a horse. Then, he was in a parlor, tinkering with a clock by the light of a fireplace in the late 1700s. He was by the campfire and repairing tools in the 1600s while the grasses swayed and the crickets sang.
He was standing in a barn fixing a buckboard in the 1800s while children played nearby. Their children. Elizabet and James. The stars started to build in her head, making her dizzy until she fell to the floor.
"Allison." The voice was far away. "Allison," it repeated, more forcefully.
*Tuck*
She opened her eyes and his face was near hers as he bent over. "Tucker," she whispered, reaching up to touch his cheek.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his eyes a stormy grey, like he was fighting something inside his head.
"I think so. How are James and Elizabet?"
He shuddered and his mouth opened on a gasp. "You remember this time."
She nodded, tears prickling behind her eyes, blurring her vision.
"I've been waiting so long for you," he whispered, a wobbly smile coming to his face. "I just wanted to see you again. The children are fine."
"They inherited your immortality," she said, not phrasing it as a question.
He nodded solemnly.
She smiled, rubbing her knuckles along his familiar face. Her soul sighed. She was home again. "I'd like to--"
"Tuck, you have work to do--does this woman need and ambulance?" A man dressed in a similar uniform to Tuck's stood at the end of the aisle.
"No," she said loudly. "I'm okay."
Tuck nodded, tears running down his face. "I am, too, at last."
| |
[WP] The bittersweet relationship between an immortal and someone who remembers their previous reincarnations. | Immortality. We’ve all fantasized about it. We’ve all wondered what it would be like. Many have dedicated their lives to achieving it. Yet despite all this effort, nobody has actually achieved it. Or so you think.
While you wouldn’t notice it, there are immortals all around you. They have lived for millennia, seeing all of the changes of the world. They know of their gift, and they treat it with the utmost seriousness. Some of them guard the secret better than others, but the council has ensured those that don’t cover their tracks aren’t discovered.
The immortals that do cover their tracks well move around the globe, methodically ensuring no one discovers their immortality. They could be shot in the head and get back up from it, however it does mean that their attacker must be taken care of. Those who don’t cover their tracks, however, are just as vulnerable as everyone else, and they age, however they are given the gift of reincarnation. However you can be changed between one or the other. Despite what some people may think, reincarnated immortals remember their past lives.
Back in Renaissance Italy, I met a fellow immortal. At the time I was a female, a fair brunette. I had been told by the council that the man was immortal, and that apparently he had committed the crime of becoming a famous figure. My job was to inform him that his invulnerability was taken from him, and that he would be forced to reincarnate.
My problem, of course, was that I needed to get to the man to tell him this news. He was a painter, so I decided I would volunteer to be a model for him. He agreed, and he invited me into his home. As I sat down for my pose, I tried to tell him the news.
“Excuse me...”
“Shhh...”, he cut me off “do not break your smile. It is what makes the painting,”
“But...”
“N-n-n-no, do not speak. The time for words will be soon.”
I sighed, defeated, and continued to pose. I waited for hours for him to call it a day, to send me back on my way so that I would have time to speak to him. But when that time came he showed me the door with no hesitation. *great,* I had thought to myself, *Now I have to actually go through with this.*
So I went to his abode again, hoping I would get a chance to speak, but as with the first day I did not. And neither did I the next day. Or the next. This kept going on until the painting was almost finished, however the silence was not broken in the way I had planned.
“You’re such a fair lady,” the painter started talking out of nowhere, “It must be difficult to keep people from getting attached to you”.
The statement took me aback. Sure I had to keep men from swooning over me because I had to protect my immortality, but he didn’t know that.
“What makes you think I must keep away from men?” I tried to keep my cards to my chest.
“Well the council wouldn’t like it if you were to fall in love, you would be forced into a reincarnation.”
“Wait!” I jerked up suddenly, “You mean to tell me you know I’m an immortal?”
“Yes,” his face curved into a smug smile
“Then why are you wasting my time with this painting? I obviously have news from the council!”
“I already know you came to tell me I lost my invulnerability for this life, so there was no reason to hear you tell me.” He returned to painting the image, probably working on the
“That still doesn’t answer my question!” I started to raise my voice “Why did you waste my time!?”
“Because I’ve been looking for a model for a while, and you came right to my doorstep. I knew who you were, I knew why you were here, so I knew I could keep you coming back if you had a reason.”
“Mr. da Vinci, you’re a terrible immortal. You use all of your prior knowledge to get ahead, just so some lowly mortals will respect you. In a way I pity you. Good day!” I started out of Leonardo’s house.
“Until next time, Mona!” He somehow kept a cheerful attitude despite my rude remarks.
“There won’t be a next time!” And I head out the door. But man, I was way off. There was in fact a next time. Many, in fact. Not in that lifetime, but due to the *Mona Lisa’s* popularity, I had lost my invulnerability in that life. I eventually died on the Italian countryside, and was reborn in Japan.
I remember how relaxing it was to live in Japan. No worries of modern life, nobody paid too much attention to me. The food was good and I was happy. Amongst immortals, going to Japan to live was essentially a vacation. Most of the political turmoil, whenever it was there, was considered a minor annoyance at most. I spent most of my time in the mountains, where I could let time fly and not worry about having to move so that I’m not discovered.
But one day someone did come up to the mountains with me. It was a male, small and fragile, but with a certain stature that exclaimed he was important. When he reached the top, he simply sat next to me. We stayed there for a while, days even, and it didn’t bother me. Until I realized it had been a week since they sat down.
“What does the council want?” I asked in a bored voice
“The council?” The man asked “The council doesn’t want anything. **I** want something.”
“Ok, what do **you** want?”I asked in a slightly irate tone.
“I wanted to check up on an old friend,” the man sneered.
“Old friend?” I asked quizzically.
“Yes, an old friend.” The man was hinting at something
“Where do I know you from?” I was thinking of all of the other immortals I had come across over the years. Very few of them acknowledged I was immortal, much less would they consider me a friend.
“Well that’s not the only thing I came to you for. I wish for your hand in marriage.”
“But I barely know you!”
“But you’re an immortal, and so am I, and when will you get another opportunity to love someone without consequence?”
“Fine, but only for this lifetime!”
“No problem, now let’s get off this mountain. “
To immortals, marriage has never really been taken seriously. In a lot of situations, after death your partner will be somewhere far, far, away from you in the next life, so you learn quickly to let go. However I’ve never been in a relationship, I’ve always been more conservative. But I decided I might as well. I still didn’t know who this person was. Or at least who he *really* was. I knew his current name. Although I didn’t know his current title.
He was a fucking emperor!
I don’t remember how he kept that fact from me until after our marriage. I just remember one day being brought before the people of Japan and learning I’m empress. And because of that the council took my invulnerability away for that life.
I remember getting mad at my new husband after this was revealed to me. “Don’t you think you should’ve told me you’re the emperor!? Don’t you think I would’ve liked to avoid death!?” He just sneered and simply said “This’ll never get old”. I looked at him in shock. “You mean to say you’ve done this before!?” He looked at me with his smug grin “Don’t you remember me, Mona?” He broke out into laughter as I buried my head in embarrassment that I fell for his game again.
But it wasn’t the last time I would. Life after life, they would find their way to me, and some way or another would find me fame. They sent me on a voyage to the new world and gave me fame as Christopher Columbus. They framed me for killing people when I was a fellow named Jack in London. He wrote a book about a new political ideal called communism, then said I wrote it. The most recent time he’s done this to me was when he got me in to racing. Little did I know that I would be any good, and that “Dale Earnhardt” would become famous.
The immortal formerly known as Leonardo DaVinci has been an annoyance since the day I had to run that errand for the council. He is the reason I’ve died so many times over. But other than that, he’s been great to have around. He’s always been a nice guy, just a nice guy that causes me to die. And his game is kind of fun. I have actually returned the favor once, when he went by the name of Tupac Shakur. He had a lot of poetry that he had wrote and memorized during his existence, and I revealed it to some people and next thing I know he’s making music. I ended up killing him one night for laughs, and I haven’t seen him since.
Currently I am a male high school student on a trip to France with my family. I have a mother, father, and an older brother who decided he didn’t want to go to college and just spends most of his time writing anonymous stories online for cash. We are currently visiting the Louvre, and for the the first time in my existence, I actually get to see the painting that started the game.
I don’t know why, but I’m underwhelmed by it. Maybe it’s because my expectations were extremely high after centuries’ worth of anticipation, but honestly I don’t think it’s as good as everyone says it is. Then again I’ve never been an artist, so what do I know. But my brother, on the other hand, is a connoisseur of art. I ask him what he thinks of it.
“Honestly, it’s not DaVinci’s best work, but it’s definitely a well made piece. I’m not exactly sure, but if I were DaVinci, I would probably be wishing that a different artwork of his was hanging here. Unless of course it holds a sentimental value to him.” He was staring at the Mona Lisa as closely as I was, maybe even more so. And then he said something under his breath, almost too quiet to hear.
“I’m going to find you, Mona.”
*Fuck.* | I never really *intended* it to be this way, you know? A sorta grandiose juxtaposition of Tuck Everlasting and Groundhog day. Not everyone expects it to end up this way when some flames of a forgotten year tell you to drink from a forbidden stream.
I mean if fire told you to drink something, you'd do it.
So I drank. And I think that was... *three thousand* years ago? Maybe four at this point. Eh, doesn't really matter in the long run. I've been here for four thousand years, and probably will still be here for four thousand more.
Of course things are a blur, I've had wives, daughters, sons... parents, once. Kinda strange to be honest. I've had enough kids to fill the population of Azerbaijan, but I've only have one set of parents, a mother and a father who gave birth to a single child. I don't remember them anymore, names, faces, eyes, features in general. I just know they're there. Somewhere.
I've been a parent. Many times. There's no real consequences in it, for me at least. Don't want a kid? Easy, just outlive them. Don't want a wife? Run away and jump from a high bridge into the water below. Lie in that stream until you eventually wash up ashore a new town, with new faces, new ideas, new experiences. I don't want to admit how many times I've done that.
It's that consequence that drives me. A push to find someone who can actually match up with me. I mean, I'm a god in all rights but the fact of shooting lightning out of my fingertips. That's what drove me to Mallory.
***
*Give her a fake name, she'd never know*
So many intentions in this story, but honestly, I never intended to keep it going for that long. She'd never know who I really was, I could meld into the other faceless Tom, Ricks and Steves of the world. But I couldn't.
It was tingling, a sort of ebbing pinch in my spine that tossed a red flag in my face, I'd seen her before. At least I felt like I had, somewhere.
"I'm sorry for intruding, but have I met you before?"
***
Liberty High School is where I had met her. Well, not really, I had no idea where Liberty High School even is. She gave me a "fighting Rebels" chant and I just mimicked her stupid and quirky throat chop movements.
"Mr. Pierre's class right?" She asked, hand tight around her drink. Leaning comfortably against a pillar.
"Hmm?"
"Mr. Pierre's History class!"
"Yea totally."
She snorted, "Remember that time when Mr. Pierre just *tore* into that stuck up rich kid Louis? I wonder how he's doing."
"Yea I remember. Never really liked him that much anyway."
I wanted to know more. Because she didn't go to Liberty high school, with a Mr. Pierre, and Louis. I mean I maybe immortal, but I'm not dense. I lived it damn it.
She reintroduced herself as Mallory. Mallory Persaant, to be exact. French, to be exact. And incredibly intelligent, to be exact.
***
Ran out of time :(
Might add onto it later if I can | |
[WP] You were a very powerful villain. You were defeated, causing you to lose most your powers and memories. Your pathetic form is found by a group of young, ingenious wannabe heroes who take you under their wing. One day your lost memories and strength return, but you don't want to be evil anymore. | I defy my fate.
Who are we if not the sum of our experiences? Our hopes, dreams and aspirations? I never _wanted_ to be evil. Chaotic neutral at best, but never evil. I guess it just turned out that way. Thanks to this wonderful, but ignorant band of adventurers, friends, I know who I was. _Was_ is important there, I am no longer that man.
Whilst I've got you here, I may as well tell you who and what exactly I am. Currently I am Aryte Lafayette; the Lizardfolk Cleric of the group named me such after fighting alongside the party for the first time. It means 'Survivor' in his tongue, the Bard seemed to think Lafayette fit, so that's what I chose as my "new" surname. I'm not even sure I count as new, maybe just misplaced. I digress, that is who I currently am, previously I was Xardos Blackwing, Scourge of Drevalor, Killing of Kings and Keeper of the Black. Impressive, I know.
When my little memory mishap occured, I could do only the most basic of things. Like tear out a Drow's throat with my teeth because my hands were bound. Since visiting the Tower of Mirros, (who, incidentally, keeps a large quantity of memory mirrors,) I have been able to tap into the dread power. To be honest though, I'm not sure I want to. My magic is... let's just say it definitely has its own visual brand to it. So, I've set the party up for a reason to destroy all my Dread holdings across the country. We'll all get paid extremely well, plus I know where the loot is, and how to get it, in my own fortresses.
My minions are in disarray, this is definitely good for us, but not my prior reputation. I've been making telepathic contact with my generals, they're moving my forces out as I dictate. Enough to give us a window to enter the Black Tower unhindered. Obviously, I could just walk in and announce my presence, but that defeats the point of all this spectacle. I've taken to wearing a full plate helm, to stop those that serve me from recognition, bad enough I'm slaughtering them, they don't need to know that it's me doing it. Funnily enough, I feel a twinge of remorse for all this murder. Some of these minions, these Orcs and Trolls and Elves and Undead, I had known for decades. I personally taught several of those currently dead on the floor in the art of Necromancy, but what can you do?
Finally we reach the throne room. Obviously somebody needed to be there, so I enthralled a young village boy to pose as me. It's not evil, this doesn't show my old habits coming back. He was a burden to his family and I compensated them well, with money, not death. He greets us, we do that funny bit of back and forth banter as one is wont to do in these situations. He goes to "cast" something, but obviously has no magic potential. I interrupt him to keep up the illusion; the party each have their own separate bone to pick with me, him, whatever. The Cleric had his family burned and his village razed. The Bard had his sister enslaved as a concubine by one of the designated barons. The Wizard's mentor was turned into a sheep, butchered and fed to his students and finally, the Ranger had his tongue cut out for speaking out of turn with a general in my armed forces.
The man known as Xardos is dead. As dead as a personality can be anyway, we killed the patsy, I've given him funerary rites and laid his spirit to rest. I made of point of having him repent in his death throes. Unfortunately, the castle will-
_thwick thwick_
Two arrows embed themselves into the back of the kneeling man. One by one, the different party members go up to speak their mind. Their campaign finally over.
"Aryte isn't 'Survivor', it is 'War'. My first thought upon seeing you was the war that will follow your death. The destruction of our homes once again." The Cleric stepped back, to be replaced by the Bard.
"Did you really think we wouldn't recognise you? Your face has been all over posters and flyers and everything for fifteen bloody years! Our stories weren't untrue ones, your baron really did enslave and rape my sister until her untimely death. It's not bad motivation to end a regime." The Bard wiped tears from his face and stepped back, the Wizard taking his place.
"You literally made me eat the man that raised me, taught me what I knew and instilled a sense of morality, of values onto me. And what for? Because he refused to be conscripted into your Black Army?" The Wizard spits on the kneeling figure, "You disgust me." He turns and walks to the entrance, keeping an eye out for any approaching guards, despite knowing that they are all dead. The Ranger, robbed of his ability to confront his tormentor, merely knocks another arrow, it pierces the skull of kneeling tyrant, killing him perhaps far quicker than he deserved.
Upon leaving, the party would be asked about their final member. The guilty secret that died for a just revenge. They could never bring themselves to reveal the truth, they just claimed that Aryte Lafayette had been killed by the Black King; which was true, he had been killed by his previous actions. Guilt still riddled their hearts however, never able to reconcile the killing of a man who wanted to change. They all killed themselves in different ways, one by one. The Ranger went first, unable to confess to his guilt, it consumed him, eventually, he hanged himself off a tree. The Wizard ventured into more and more dangerous magic, his bloodlust not yet sated, he sought a way to call the soul of his nemesis until eventually, his own soul was torn asunder. The Bard drank until his liver failed, he pissed away his fortune on cheap booze and cheaper sex. After that, he borrowed more and more money until he was eventually found, drowned in a beer casket. The Cleric, his faith shaken, fought in war after bloody war, slowly accumulating scars and wounds, trying to restore his broken belief. He died beaten and bloody, surrounded by three dozen enemies, arrows protruding from his back, daggers in his chest, he ascended to the Fields of War, where he was promptly denied entry, his motivation had been untrue. Thus ended the party.
_Hi there, /u/Green_Warlock here. If you have an critique of the above story, feel free to leave a comment! I'm still pretty new to posting these, so any advice is appreciated! EDIT: Added more detail to the end and fixed some spelling._ | "Once, I was a god. Nothing can stop me. Nothing has ever stopped me. I am a force of nature, and you recognized this. You see that you cannot stop me, so you try to change me. I d not see the sense in resisting. I will try what you say. Once."
"Thank you." | |
[WP] A story that has so many plot holes even the characters begin to question it. | It was a dark and stormy night. Carol and Chris were wide awake though it was approaching 2 AM. They had preparations to prepare. The two were in an abandoned house and using old kerosene lamps as both heat and light sources.
“We have to prepare these preparations,” Chris said, his breath fogging up the air, holding a wooden plank in place while Carol nailed it into the wall.
“Why didn’t you just say ‘we have to prepare’?” Carol queried, “Its less repetitive and more concise”
“It’s*” Chris corrected.
“What?”
“You used the wrong form of it’s”
Carol wiped the sweat off her brow, “But I was speaking and they sound the same”
Chris furrowed his brows at her, “Why are you sweating? It’s freezing in here”
Carol glanced at an old thermometer on the wall that read 38º, “That’s odd”
“What? Chris picked a shotgun off of the mildewy couch and began loading it.
“The thermometer, it says its 38º….Celsius”
Chris rolled his eyes as he finished loading the shotgun and began loading a handgun, “You know I hate the metric system”
“38º C is like 100º F”
“Must be broken”
Carol walked over to it and put her thumb over the red glass bulb. The red alcohol inside the thermometer slowly crawled up into the 90s, “I guess so”
“We don’t have time to worry about that,” Chris said as he finished rigging a trap that would send cans of paint flying at whomever entered the room.
Carol saw what he was doing, “Oh, like Home Alone?”
“Yeah”
Carol furrowed he brows, “Chris…what year did that movie come out?”
“1990—something”
“What year is it?”
“Don’t be silly it’s—“ he froze, “1989”
“The same year Taylor Swift was born,” Carol whispered.
“Who?”
Carol rubbed her temples and paced the floor, “Nothing is making sense”
“What are you talking about?”
“Everything. Think about it. Why are we here?”
Chris humored her, “When we were just kids, our parents took us to work to show us around, and when they left to go deal with something, we ran off and ended up inside the nuclear reactor chamber. They eventually found us, but they were too late. We both had severe radiation poisoning. As a last ditch effort, they gave us an experimental super soldier serum in hopes that we might live. We lived and both got powers. You are telekinetic and I’m super strong. Four years ago, our parents were killed when their lab was broken into and several vials of the serum were stolen by a secret corporation known as the Vostok. Ever since, we’ve vowed to not rest until we avenge our parents”
“And why are we here?”
“Because they’re coming after us”
“How do they know we’re here?”
“Because”
“Why?”
Chris looked nervous, “Be-because, uh, because…… I don’t know”
“Why are we even bothering with guns and stuff when we can just take on people on our own? Would any of this stuff even hurt them?”
“Our parents worked for a pharmicutical company, why would they have a nuclear reactor? And why would it be so unsecured that children could break into it”
“You misspelled pharmaceutical”
“It’s a hard word to spell! And you misspelled misspelled”
“But we can’t see spoken words”
Unbeknownst to the siblings, the Vostok were gathering outside.
Chris grabbed Carol and pulled her behind the couch.
“The Vostok are gathering outside, wait isn’t the Russian word for east?”
Suddenly, the windows exploded inward, showering the pair like a shower of shattered windows.
“That’s really bad imagery,” Carol said.
The Vostok quickly surrounded the pair.
“We’ve trapped you. Get in the cage”
“What cage?!” Carol yelled.
“That one”
Chris followed their line of sight, “How’d that get in there? It’s too big to fit through the window”
“Plus it’s metal,” Carol said, “Either of us could easily break out”
“Get in the cage”
Carol raised her hand and froze all of the Vostok in place.
“That’s convenient for the plot,” Chris replied.
“Plot……” Carol mused, “Chris I think we’re in a story”
“Of course we’re in a story,” one of the Vostok replied, “Figures it would take you two all these years to figure it out”
“What?”
“We’ve been trying to tell you,“ another replied, “lest you do something stupid like, I don’t know, SAY THAT WE’RE IN A STORY”
“What’s gonna happen?”
“The author wi l shred the story”
“Shre t e story?!” C ris cried, “Bu we’re i the tory!”
“ e’ll b shre de t o?!”
“Exa tl you i iot ,” a t ird Vo to r pli d.
“I d dn’t et to ay b e t ki s,” ano h r w il d.
The ro m be an f ling ap rt. The sky o tsi e t e h u e b gan to h ve lo g str aks of w ite in it.
“W h ve to run a ay,” hris a d.
“ he orld’s co ing apa t. We ca ’t o run i ”
W ite streaks fo me o arol nd C is a th V toks.
Car gra ed h s h nd w t w at as l ft o ers, “ ven if e were in a p orly wri ten st ry f ll o plot holes, I m gla I ha yo w h me”
Ch is smi d s b y dis gr ted i o not g, “Me too”
| The front door of the Hitchcock diner signaled it's opening with a chiming bell. A cold wind blew in from outside and the few patrons sitting at the lunch counter, sipping coffees, turned to glace at the new comer. A tall fella with a dark brown trench coat stood there, brushing the snow from his bowler cap, looking around. The waitress behind the counter smacked her lips while chewing gum, glancing at him up and down.
"Can I help ya' with something, sir?" she said in a nasally voice. The man had a limp, but tried to play it off as he came up to the counter and pulled a billfold from inside his coat. Flicking it open he pulled a black and white picture of a young woman, beautiful, with bouncing curls and a devilish smile.
"I'm looking for this girl, ya' see. Goes by the name of Deirdre. Happen to, uhh, see her come in here anytime recently?" Slipping his fingers back in the wallet he pulled out a $5 bill and slid it across the counter top. "Maybe this will, uhh, help jog ya' memory."
The waitress blew a pink bubble the size of a grapefruit, then popped it and continued her lip smacking. She regarded the $5 bill amusement, than quickly snatched it up, stuffing it in her apron. "Ah geeze, I knew someone would come in here asking about Deirdre sometime," she replied. "But I can't talk about this now. Meet me behind the diner tonight, when I get off shift at ten."
The man gazed at her with sharp eyes beneath his cap, then tipped his brim. "See ya' then," he said. Turning abruptly he disappeared out the door and into the cold.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Later on, behind the diner, the waitress stood idly smoking a cigarette. She didn't have to wait around long before hearing the awkward click-clack of dress shoes hobbling down the alleyway. The man stopped a few feet away from her, his face obscured by his tilted down hat.
"My name is Donny, ya' see. Deirdre was a, uhh, friend of mine. I'm trying to find her. Get some information. Last I had heard she was working at the Hitchcock."
The waitress flicked the cigarette away, it landed in a little pile of butts that had formed near the dumpster. "Yeah, I knew Deirdre. Great girl. Had a good head on her shoulder. Was trying to make it as an actress out here."
"So ya' really knew her then?" Donny asked. "If ya' dont mind telling me, where was she from?" This was more of a test than anything else, but Donny wanted to see if this dame really wasn't just pulling his leg.
"She said she was from St. Paul, before that I think Boston. East to tell on account of her accent." The waitress answered this quickly, then pulled another cigarette from inside her purse. The windy alleyway was making her lighter blow out when she tried to light it through.
Donny stepped up and struck a match from within the folds of his trench coat, offering her the flame. "That's right, she was from St. Paul. So now I'm trying to figure out how a girl whose trying to make it as an actress, with a good head on her shoulders, just up and vanishes?"
The waitress looked at Donny for a moment, then reached up and pushed the brim of his hat all the way back. Amber light from the single lamp cast a shadow across his face. He looked weary, sad even. "Now I didn't know too much about Deirdre. From what she told me she was moonlighting as a singer down at the Black Cat on Clancy Street. Kinda a seedy area, ya' know? But I bet you've already checked that out."
"Now why would you bet that?" Donny asked.
"Well uhh..." she paused and took a few puffs from the cigarette. "I suppose that if ya' really knew Deirdre, than you'd know that she was singing gigs around town. That's all."
Donny regarded her quizzically. "So how long has it been since you've seen Deirdre? When was the last time she came into work?"
Pulling with greater urgency from her cigarette, the waitress looked again into Donny's sharp eyes. "Ya got the time?" she asked.
"It's 10:13," he said. "Why?"
"No reason. Ya' look listen I think it's been a few weeks. Maybe four, no, five? Ya' five weeks since she was in here. Listen, Don. I'm getting cold. Have to get home to the kids." She pulled her coat around her then started walking away down the ally. Before she got too far she turned and looked at him, her expression softening. "Listen, hon. Don't go looking too hard. Especially tonight, it's too darn cold out."
Before Donny had a chance to respond she had slipped around the corner and into the blustery night.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Black Cat yielded strange results. Donny went to speak to the manager but he was turned away at the door.
"Listen, Jack. Your pretty girlfriend isn't here. She's not going to be here. Stop asking around for her. Go home." The bouncer at the front door took Donny by the shoulders, turned him around and shoved him away.
Donny spun around quick. "Now just wait one second, ya' bastard. I haven't even asked ya' anything yet! How'd ya' know I was asking about Deirdre? When did you see her?!" He was yelling now, and the customers on line, standing in the frigid wind, were starting at him.
Another bouncer came from inside and together both of the brutes crossed their arms, indicating clearly he wasn't getting by. Then one gestured down the street, shooing him away. Seeing no way forward and feeling the cutting wind, Donny turned and shuffled off.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was nearly two in the morning when Donny got back to the seedy hotel he was staying in, on the outskirts of town. His mind was rattled and the thin trench coat he was wearing was dripping from the plastered snow. He poured himself a glass of warm whiskey and shot it back, then gazed bleary eyed into the mirror. In front of him on the dresser were the only fragments he had to work with, looking for Deirdre. Her picture, a few smudged and tattered letters, her busted camera.
Donny sighed and sat in the dusty armchair. He had been a private investigator his whole life, but this case was getting the better of him. It felt like he was spinning in circles. The waitress was helpful but acted strangely, almost as if they were familiar with each other. And why would she think he already went to the Black Cat?
The bouncers were the strangest yet, but promising as suspects. Why would they know he was there looking for Deidre before he even opened his mouth to them? They chased him away before he even got a chance to poke around inside.
Donny shuffled the letters around in his lap, then looked at Deirdre's picture. It was in bad shape at this point. Folded and re-folded. He realized it was hard to make out the sparkle the always occupied her eyes.
Sighing, he closed his eyes... massaging his temples... fighting off sleep... but then, giving in.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Pushing the front door of her apartment building closed against the blowing wind, Stacy, the waitress from the Hitchcock Diner, also sighed and massaged her temples. She walked up the three flights of stairs to her unit. Her three young boys would be asleep already. The eldest, Michael, would have heated up the younger boys some soup and tucked them in. He was such a good boy.
She quietly opened the front door and slipped off her high heel shoes. Before walking past the kitchen she reached up into one of the upper cabinets and pulled down an old coffee can. She took off the lid and put in the measly tips she got during her shift, along with the $5 bill that Donny had given her.
Each day for the last five weeks, Donny had come into the Hitchcock looking for Deirdre, and each night, he offered up some cash looking for information about her. At first, Stacy had thought it was some sick hoax and chased him off. But then, when it became clear the poor bastard couldn't remember the day before, she started playing along. Especially once she realized he'd help subsidize her meager pay...
Stacy had heard that Deirdre had been killed in the trolley crash that happened almost three months beforehand. It wasn't later till she realized that the man, Donny, had been on the trolley too... Apparently a nasty hit to the head and some broken bones had kept him in coma, lying in the hospital, until the day he busted out and started looking for her.
Stacy didn't know how much longer she'd keep seeing Donny. She figured someday he'd run out of money to offer her, then she'd start calling the cops when he came in. Until then... well, she had three young boys to feed. Ya'know? | |
[WP] A story that has so many plot holes even the characters begin to question it. | It was a dark and stormy night. Carol and Chris were wide awake though it was approaching 2 AM. They had preparations to prepare. The two were in an abandoned house and using old kerosene lamps as both heat and light sources.
“We have to prepare these preparations,” Chris said, his breath fogging up the air, holding a wooden plank in place while Carol nailed it into the wall.
“Why didn’t you just say ‘we have to prepare’?” Carol queried, “Its less repetitive and more concise”
“It’s*” Chris corrected.
“What?”
“You used the wrong form of it’s”
Carol wiped the sweat off her brow, “But I was speaking and they sound the same”
Chris furrowed his brows at her, “Why are you sweating? It’s freezing in here”
Carol glanced at an old thermometer on the wall that read 38º, “That’s odd”
“What? Chris picked a shotgun off of the mildewy couch and began loading it.
“The thermometer, it says its 38º….Celsius”
Chris rolled his eyes as he finished loading the shotgun and began loading a handgun, “You know I hate the metric system”
“38º C is like 100º F”
“Must be broken”
Carol walked over to it and put her thumb over the red glass bulb. The red alcohol inside the thermometer slowly crawled up into the 90s, “I guess so”
“We don’t have time to worry about that,” Chris said as he finished rigging a trap that would send cans of paint flying at whomever entered the room.
Carol saw what he was doing, “Oh, like Home Alone?”
“Yeah”
Carol furrowed he brows, “Chris…what year did that movie come out?”
“1990—something”
“What year is it?”
“Don’t be silly it’s—“ he froze, “1989”
“The same year Taylor Swift was born,” Carol whispered.
“Who?”
Carol rubbed her temples and paced the floor, “Nothing is making sense”
“What are you talking about?”
“Everything. Think about it. Why are we here?”
Chris humored her, “When we were just kids, our parents took us to work to show us around, and when they left to go deal with something, we ran off and ended up inside the nuclear reactor chamber. They eventually found us, but they were too late. We both had severe radiation poisoning. As a last ditch effort, they gave us an experimental super soldier serum in hopes that we might live. We lived and both got powers. You are telekinetic and I’m super strong. Four years ago, our parents were killed when their lab was broken into and several vials of the serum were stolen by a secret corporation known as the Vostok. Ever since, we’ve vowed to not rest until we avenge our parents”
“And why are we here?”
“Because they’re coming after us”
“How do they know we’re here?”
“Because”
“Why?”
Chris looked nervous, “Be-because, uh, because…… I don’t know”
“Why are we even bothering with guns and stuff when we can just take on people on our own? Would any of this stuff even hurt them?”
“Our parents worked for a pharmicutical company, why would they have a nuclear reactor? And why would it be so unsecured that children could break into it”
“You misspelled pharmaceutical”
“It’s a hard word to spell! And you misspelled misspelled”
“But we can’t see spoken words”
Unbeknownst to the siblings, the Vostok were gathering outside.
Chris grabbed Carol and pulled her behind the couch.
“The Vostok are gathering outside, wait isn’t the Russian word for east?”
Suddenly, the windows exploded inward, showering the pair like a shower of shattered windows.
“That’s really bad imagery,” Carol said.
The Vostok quickly surrounded the pair.
“We’ve trapped you. Get in the cage”
“What cage?!” Carol yelled.
“That one”
Chris followed their line of sight, “How’d that get in there? It’s too big to fit through the window”
“Plus it’s metal,” Carol said, “Either of us could easily break out”
“Get in the cage”
Carol raised her hand and froze all of the Vostok in place.
“That’s convenient for the plot,” Chris replied.
“Plot……” Carol mused, “Chris I think we’re in a story”
“Of course we’re in a story,” one of the Vostok replied, “Figures it would take you two all these years to figure it out”
“What?”
“We’ve been trying to tell you,“ another replied, “lest you do something stupid like, I don’t know, SAY THAT WE’RE IN A STORY”
“What’s gonna happen?”
“The author wi l shred the story”
“Shre t e story?!” C ris cried, “Bu we’re i the tory!”
“ e’ll b shre de t o?!”
“Exa tl you i iot ,” a t ird Vo to r pli d.
“I d dn’t et to ay b e t ki s,” ano h r w il d.
The ro m be an f ling ap rt. The sky o tsi e t e h u e b gan to h ve lo g str aks of w ite in it.
“W h ve to run a ay,” hris a d.
“ he orld’s co ing apa t. We ca ’t o run i ”
W ite streaks fo me o arol nd C is a th V toks.
Car gra ed h s h nd w t w at as l ft o ers, “ ven if e were in a p orly wri ten st ry f ll o plot holes, I m gla I ha yo w h me”
Ch is smi d s b y dis gr ted i o not g, “Me too”
| It chased them down the hallway and they ducked into the closet to catch their breath.
 
The banging on the door hadn’t stopped.
 
The four friends scrambled together in the small walk-in closet of their school and pushed some shelves against the door as a barricade. Sarah, easily the brightest of the four, started to devise a plan for escape. John, the strongest, readied his fists and looked about the room for some sort of weapon when the door inevitably broke. Devin and Claire were simply huddled together in disbelief of what had happened. What had been happening for weeks. It always started like this, some people would run off screaming and then completely disappear. No one would remember them, well no one but Claire. Claire’s extraordinary gift came at a price, it left her eyes burning whenever something around her didn’t add up. And right about now Claire’s eyes were on fire.
The banging continued for a few minutes. John dozed as he held the gun close to his chest. Sarah had her hands on his shoulders and was shaking him, her voice distorted as he slowly awakened. “John! Where did you get that gun?” she asked with a shrill sense of urgency. “I honestly have no idea, it just showed up.”
 
The banging on the door outside stopped.
 
Claire kept complaining about her eyes. Sarah decided they would have to take their chances and open the door, or else they would starve. There was no way they could last another five days in this closet, they had already exhausted all of their food.
 
They opened the door and the three of them walked out in the dark hallway. The banging on the door started again. “Wait, wasn’t there another person with us?” asked John. “Shut up, it’s coming back!” screamed Claire. The water monster slithered down the hallway with surprising speed. Claire remembered she was alone. She had been in her room this entire time.
 
She sighed, flopped on her bed and unlocked her phone. It looks like her friend Devin had been in some sort of accident. Claire began to think that maybe her grasp on reality was slipping. Hadn’t she just been with Devin for almost a week? No that can’t be right. The sunlight out the window caused a warm glow on Claire’s floor.
 
The asteroid hit earth at that morning and quickly ended all human life in a cloud of fire, earth and dust. Claire laughed, it was much easier to survive such things as a water monster.
| |
[WP] You reach max level in a game and lose interest for a while. Logging in months later, you find that years have past in game and chaos has spread, everyone wonders where your avatar, lauded as a savior, has gone. | We spoke the legends, first of all. The people of Pargonark have heard stories of the mighty heroes for generations now, passed from one storyteller to another and never told quite exactly the same. Some elements changed. No one could ever entirely agree on how many arms the great metal destroyer had. Was it six, or eight, or ten? Was the fur which lined the winter hero’s boots and gloves white or brown? Was the towering stone-skinned giant brought to life through magic or was he simply a man made unbreakable? And on the rules of the otherworldly ball game that one of them played. We would argue for hours about that. Even creating our own version many years ago which included a pit of mutated tigers for reasons that are far too complicated to explain. Just know that it was not my idea.
But we did know for certain that the heroes lived in the temple. It is a holy place. It was where we take refuge in times of strife. It was where we bring the newly born to receive the blessing of the goddess of bubbles, fabled for her generosity, and where the elders kneel before the grim visage of the man in black smoke, seeking comfortable passage into the afterlife.
Alas, all was not peaceful for we people of Pargonark. Vile folk roamed the lands. They, descended from the followers of the great destroyer, had a terrible chief who sought to lay the town low with fire and ax. And they came to the great doors of the temple and found them closed. They bashed them for hours without end until finally the great doors fell down. As all seemed to be lost, our savior appeared.
He arrived all at once, blinking into being as if he were always standing there and we had simply not noticed. Skin as black as night, glistening like a riverbed, etched with red markings down either side of his face. In a suit of gold and a cloak of green which hung down his back, all in fabric finer than any we had ever seen. And he spoke with knowledge beyond the mortal, beyond the universe we know. Befitting of a timeless, ageless hero.
“Huh. Looks like they reskinned this place.” Said he, as he stood alone between us and the horde of the destroyer.
The vile folk stopped as they saw him, unsure. But their chief was unmoved by the glory of the hero and stepped forward, swinging a great metal blade. It came down upon him and broke upon him like a branch against the mountainside. Then the hero raised one fist and struck the chief, who instantly vanished into a cloud of pink mist.
“I guess I’m a bit overleveled for this content.” The hero said as he examined his fist.
The remaining followers of the destroyer were filled with terror and ran from the temple and from Pargonark and back to the place where they first crawled from, and the people rejoiced. The unbreakable stone hero, Jagganath, had returned to us at last.
=
"Hello. You've reached the Huerta residence. We are not available now. Please leave your name and phone number after the beep."
**BEEP**
"Manny! It's Samir. Man, I got Cowl Online running and it's gone post-apocalyptic. Full-on Cloud Atlas in there. We need to get the supergroup back together. Call me back." | Fire
Earth
Water
Air
The four nations lived in peace , but everything changed when the fire nation attacked.
Only the avatar, master of all four elements could stop them, but when the world needed him most he disappeared.
SKIP
Booting up game...
Log In- Haangman
Enter password-***********
Game loading...
Continue previous save?
Yes
Game loading...
You are in a living room
-Observe room
You see a door to your north, a hallway to the east, a hallway to the west, and a kitchen to your south
-Go North
You are standing in front of the door
-Open Door
You put your hand on the doorknob, feeling the cold metal for the first time in years
The Door begins to creak as it slowly opens
-Walk through doorway
You walk through the door and immediately feel warmth of the outside world
-Look around
You see fire
Every tree you see is burning and nothing is left untouched by the blaze
While you can't see much you just make out a crowd
You could potentially get their by walking forward through the fire
-Walk forward
You walk ahead until you get to the fire
You can't go any further without burning
-Extinguish the fire
You hear a whoosh as the fire disappears
-Look ahead
The path ahead of you is clear
-Walk forward
You walk ahead, hearing the crunch of dead branches on your feet
The fire around you rages on and the future become clearer
It seems as if their dancing, the graceful moves offering a dissonance to the apocalyptic world around them
At first it seems as if their blissfully unaware of what's happening but slowly you realize their dancing isn't dancing
With every move they make fire bursts forth from their body
You make to the figures
The figures look at you and start to send plumes fire in your direction
Are you willing to fight
-Push the figures back with AIR
A wall of air stops the figures from going closer
Some of them fall to the floor
-Examine figures
Looking closer you can see that they are firebenders
-Look around
Firebender surround you at all ends
-Stop Firebenders with AIR
You create an all of air around you, and it slowly expands
As it reaches the firebenders they create a wall of fire
The combined fire of the army is too much, and the AIR has no effect
They continue marching towards you
-Attack with ALL and continue forward
You stand still and meditate, trying to access your full power
The firebenders surround now, and fire seems to enclose your body like a cocoon
Your power reaches you to late and the fire envelops you
The world goes black
Continue or Quit?
-Quit
LOG OUT?
-Yes
Log In
Remember password?
-Yes
Continue from previous game?
-Yes
WARNING a large amount of time has passed ingame
Do you still wish to continue?
-Yes
You wake up, encased in ice
| |
[WP] You reach max level in a game and lose interest for a while. Logging in months later, you find that years have past in game and chaos has spread, everyone wonders where your avatar, lauded as a savior, has gone. | Ragnok awoke gasping for breath expelling a mound of dust from his lungs. Wrenching his torso forward he sat up and looked around the dark hole in which he laid, the smell of mold and decay filling his nostrils with a musty funk. "Where am I?" he mumbled to himself. "How did I get here?". He looked around as his eyes adjusted to the darkness to see emptiness within the chamber. A few urns and casks on the wall and a few statues to keep him company. His eyes were drawn to one particular statue which lorded behind him with a presence and power preserved in it, an inscription at it's base, unreadable in the dark. Still there was something familiar about the titan. Something in the recesses of Ragnok's mind stirred, but was pushed away as he stood letting a mighty crack from his stiff joints as he stretched. He made his way towards the sliver of light, spilling in from the adjoining chamber.
With a push he was able to open the door. Shielding his eyes, he turned his head away back towards the void from which he emerged. "Catacombs? What happened to me!?" Ragnok sauntered forward into the light, he closed his eyes and basked in the refreshing warmth as it washed over him. In front of him a barn in ruin. It looked abandoned for many years. All around him, Desolation. As far as the eye could see. He walked foward along the path searching desperately for any clue as to where he was and what happened. A sentry tower in ruin to his left, indistinguishable remains to his right. The once lush river valley which he used to frequent to the cheers and reverence of the people he once protected were now ashen and barren. He ran as best as he could in his weary form toward the road and made his way east.
Finally he came upon something, "It can't be!" he whispered. It sat ablaze under siege of hordes of undead, bandits and cutthroats alike. He charged and began to cut down one after the other, regaining his strengths as he did until finally he managed to chase the remaining fiends off. It was a sign on the inn that dropped him to his knees and caused him to weep. Sentinel Hill. "It couldn't be! What happened here!?"
He ran to the crumbling tower where a man and woman in armor kneel exhausted. "What happened!? Where are the workers carrying wood? Where are the caravans!? Where are the children of the innkeeper!?" The soldiers pulled themselves to their feet and examined him quizzically. They had gotten word that no reinforcements would be coming. Yet this warrior who came seemingly out of nowhere, was able to cut down the horde with ease. He looked so familiar, but that might have just been from the exhaustion, and the elation of knowing that they were safe for now. "What happened.........?" the General spoke. "Ever since he disappeared, chaos and death have reigned over us." "He?" Asked Ragnok. "Who?" "The legendary warrior, everyone knew of him. He was the arbiter of peace in the realm. All who opposed him were slain, all who needed him were saved. Then one day, he just disappeared. The King sent emissary after emissary, scout after scout. They all came back with nothing." "That's when the evil came. It poisoned everything it touched. We've so far been powerless to stop it, only delaying the inevitable holding onto what little hope we have."
Ragnok looked deeply into the eyes of the Commanders. They were so tired. Lasting to the next day was all they were concerned with now. He turned as this all rolled around in his head, seeing a young woman, just a girl even, riding a proud gilded chestnut brown steed. "Hmm," he thought, "You used to have to be much older and experienced to ride a mount....."
- my first ever. thanks for reading.
-TheWingus | Fire
Earth
Water
Air
The four nations lived in peace , but everything changed when the fire nation attacked.
Only the avatar, master of all four elements could stop them, but when the world needed him most he disappeared.
SKIP
Booting up game...
Log In- Haangman
Enter password-***********
Game loading...
Continue previous save?
Yes
Game loading...
You are in a living room
-Observe room
You see a door to your north, a hallway to the east, a hallway to the west, and a kitchen to your south
-Go North
You are standing in front of the door
-Open Door
You put your hand on the doorknob, feeling the cold metal for the first time in years
The Door begins to creak as it slowly opens
-Walk through doorway
You walk through the door and immediately feel warmth of the outside world
-Look around
You see fire
Every tree you see is burning and nothing is left untouched by the blaze
While you can't see much you just make out a crowd
You could potentially get their by walking forward through the fire
-Walk forward
You walk ahead until you get to the fire
You can't go any further without burning
-Extinguish the fire
You hear a whoosh as the fire disappears
-Look ahead
The path ahead of you is clear
-Walk forward
You walk ahead, hearing the crunch of dead branches on your feet
The fire around you rages on and the future become clearer
It seems as if their dancing, the graceful moves offering a dissonance to the apocalyptic world around them
At first it seems as if their blissfully unaware of what's happening but slowly you realize their dancing isn't dancing
With every move they make fire bursts forth from their body
You make to the figures
The figures look at you and start to send plumes fire in your direction
Are you willing to fight
-Push the figures back with AIR
A wall of air stops the figures from going closer
Some of them fall to the floor
-Examine figures
Looking closer you can see that they are firebenders
-Look around
Firebender surround you at all ends
-Stop Firebenders with AIR
You create an all of air around you, and it slowly expands
As it reaches the firebenders they create a wall of fire
The combined fire of the army is too much, and the AIR has no effect
They continue marching towards you
-Attack with ALL and continue forward
You stand still and meditate, trying to access your full power
The firebenders surround now, and fire seems to enclose your body like a cocoon
Your power reaches you to late and the fire envelops you
The world goes black
Continue or Quit?
-Quit
LOG OUT?
-Yes
Log In
Remember password?
-Yes
Continue from previous game?
-Yes
WARNING a large amount of time has passed ingame
Do you still wish to continue?
-Yes
You wake up, encased in ice
| |
[WP] You reach max level in a game and lose interest for a while. Logging in months later, you find that years have past in game and chaos has spread, everyone wonders where your avatar, lauded as a savior, has gone. | It wasn't Evan's first rodeo.
He had picked up, left, and returned to other MMOs before. He knew this one wasn't likely to keep his interest more than four months tops. But the passion for his real-life projects had waned again. The band he had put together over the past year had dissolved into the whisky of the bass player, taking his girlfriend, their lead singer, with him. Evan pulled another beer from the fridge as the phone booted up to the game loading screen. At least this location based RPG would give him an excuse to leave the house again.
Evan clicked through the updated privacy statement, EULA, and various other pages of legalese after logging in. He was greeted by a red, lightning streaked sky where his ceiling should be. Evan blinked. The developers had been busy. He turned the phone slowly checking out the windy dunes that now laid on the screen between him and the four walls of his apartment. None of this looked like the major city he had logged out in. Must be part of a new expansion they had rolled out.
A new quest notification appeared in the middle of his screen.
"Escort the Chosen"
He opened it his quest log. A group quest. An unlimited size group quest. Everyone on the server could join. And it looked like they had.
The screen filled with character names as he scrolled down the list of people joining the quest. He looked at the total number listed at the top as it continued to rise. 41,353. 41,478. 41,692.
It started to grow faster. And faster.
Evan started to search the quest description. Sounded like there was a very important NPC somewhere that had to be guarded as they walked to a quest location. And it had to be a long trip, since the quest was global. But instead there was:
"Guard Evan on his way home." | Fire
Earth
Water
Air
The four nations lived in peace , but everything changed when the fire nation attacked.
Only the avatar, master of all four elements could stop them, but when the world needed him most he disappeared.
SKIP
Booting up game...
Log In- Haangman
Enter password-***********
Game loading...
Continue previous save?
Yes
Game loading...
You are in a living room
-Observe room
You see a door to your north, a hallway to the east, a hallway to the west, and a kitchen to your south
-Go North
You are standing in front of the door
-Open Door
You put your hand on the doorknob, feeling the cold metal for the first time in years
The Door begins to creak as it slowly opens
-Walk through doorway
You walk through the door and immediately feel warmth of the outside world
-Look around
You see fire
Every tree you see is burning and nothing is left untouched by the blaze
While you can't see much you just make out a crowd
You could potentially get their by walking forward through the fire
-Walk forward
You walk ahead until you get to the fire
You can't go any further without burning
-Extinguish the fire
You hear a whoosh as the fire disappears
-Look ahead
The path ahead of you is clear
-Walk forward
You walk ahead, hearing the crunch of dead branches on your feet
The fire around you rages on and the future become clearer
It seems as if their dancing, the graceful moves offering a dissonance to the apocalyptic world around them
At first it seems as if their blissfully unaware of what's happening but slowly you realize their dancing isn't dancing
With every move they make fire bursts forth from their body
You make to the figures
The figures look at you and start to send plumes fire in your direction
Are you willing to fight
-Push the figures back with AIR
A wall of air stops the figures from going closer
Some of them fall to the floor
-Examine figures
Looking closer you can see that they are firebenders
-Look around
Firebender surround you at all ends
-Stop Firebenders with AIR
You create an all of air around you, and it slowly expands
As it reaches the firebenders they create a wall of fire
The combined fire of the army is too much, and the AIR has no effect
They continue marching towards you
-Attack with ALL and continue forward
You stand still and meditate, trying to access your full power
The firebenders surround now, and fire seems to enclose your body like a cocoon
Your power reaches you to late and the fire envelops you
The world goes black
Continue or Quit?
-Quit
LOG OUT?
-Yes
Log In
Remember password?
-Yes
Continue from previous game?
-Yes
WARNING a large amount of time has passed ingame
Do you still wish to continue?
-Yes
You wake up, encased in ice
| |
[WP] You reach max level in a game and lose interest for a while. Logging in months later, you find that years have past in game and chaos has spread, everyone wonders where your avatar, lauded as a savior, has gone. | With a final flourish, the Legendary Hero dashed behind the Great Evil and unleashed a series of strikes, the hastily-written accounts of which given by the few surviving eye witnesses to scribes, would have swordmasters from around the world struggling to recreate even parts of it.
The Great Evil was undone. Scaly claws clutched at its breast as its unholy energies dissipated in a mighty explosion. The hero didn't even bother to watch, instead walking calmly away towards the archway enclosing the sacred stone circle where the Evil had been released. Troops from the Queensguard were just now arriving, gasping for breath, running over the path of monster corpses left in the wake. The Hero nodded and clapped Captain Reginald on the shoulder as he pulled out a clockwork stopwatch from a pocket on his breastplate.
"9:45- Well all right. World record." The soldiers in attendance thought they could hear otherworldy cheering from the gods for a moment, a haunting sound of beings from another dimension.
"Sir? What... what happened just now?"
The Hero had arrived in the Castle right as it would have fallen to the Evil's vanguard. After managing to stop the Dark One's lieutenant at the gates against all odds, the Queen had laid out a multi-week campaign to fight through each of the provinces, each one holding one piece of the Armor of Light and the Four Keys to the vault of the Diamond Sword of Pride and Achievement. The Hero had given the Queen a single salute, then felled a tree inside the castle across the moat, run across it, and grabbed a barrel of dwarven explosives. Placing it next to a trebuchet, he had blasted it 19 degrees to the right, climbed onto its payload and launched himself directly onto a snowbank on the roof of the Temple of the Diamond Sword, bypassing all four Key Chambers and their Guardians. Taking the Sword directly, he had then grabbed a single wooden shield, and jumped off a back parapet, surfing down the Stone Circle and breaking the seal. The legendary combination strikes, footwork, and perfect timing of that fight would found entire schools of different martial arts during the dark times to come.
"Well Reg, I gotta go. Got a surprise for the girlfriend tonight. She was humoring me by letting me get this one thing off my plate. Got an Epic Ring and everything."
"But sir... the Dark Sigil.. it still needs to be cleaved in twain, and the pieces delivered to the Sun and Moon temple."
A sinister dinner plate sized coin, adorned with a scowling goat skull, radiating dark purple smoke, sizzled in the crater left by the Evil's explosion.
"Ah. Done it. Fun stuff. Doesn't matter towards the final run time."
"Sir?"
"Think of this world as.. one of a hundred paths through the Shadow Forest. I've run down every path. I had a lot of fun with you guys! But at last it's time to go. I've got another path on another world."
The Hero closed his eyes and took a breath, releasing it slowly. Then he knelt down, laying the Diamond Sword across his knee. His form darkened into a stone statue and as a beam of pure light and ascended into the heavens.
A few injured Queensguard cried out. Black, oily smoke was slowly spreading from the Sigil, tendrils slowly rising from it. The Seer hobbled forward and placed her hand on the statue.
"His spirit has left us. But we must preserve his body. The cycle will continue."
A squad of Queensguard hefted the stone statue into the back of a waiting horsecart, and powerful draft horses made haste to outrun the creeping black oil was pushing to the edges of the Stone Circle. The Guard beat a retreat as the sky darkened and small portals began to spit forth the first imps and other creatures, as evil... respawned.
The seasons that followed were difficult. Monsters and demons attacked without cease. The outer towns and provinces gained immediately after the Evil One's fall were lost again. The Queen's forces were pushed all the way back to the castle, and a new evil slammed the castle gates with evil fists. The end seemed nigh after all.
A beam of light descended from the heavens and engulfed the Hero's statue in a mighty glow. A booted foot stepped out, and the Hero followed. At that moment, a man-sized crack in the gates split in two, and waves of monsters and skeletons poured in. The Hero roared in glee and charged them, swinging his Diamond Blade.
He lacked most of the legendary grace. Instead of combos to rival the geometric tapestries of the Throne Room, he simply slashed forward again and again. Yet, monsters still fell due his no unconsiderable raw strength. He slashed twice and on the third, loosed a slice of pure energy. One of the simplest moves anyone had seen the Hero do, but still effective. Laughing again, he continued to launch wave after wave into groups of snarling monsters, howling in rage at being pushed back so close to their goal.
A confused Captain Reginald turned to the Seer. She simply nodded and closed her eyes, chanting a few ancient codes. A tendril of white light stretched from her palm to the body of the Hero, who seemed delighted that he could charge the energy from two slashes into a mighty leap, slamming all monsters in a circle with crushing force.
"It is indeed the Hero's body, but his soul no longer inhabits it."
Captain Reginald's face fell for a moment, only to turn to happiness a moment later.
"The Hero has sent the spirit of his daughter." | Fire
Earth
Water
Air
The four nations lived in peace , but everything changed when the fire nation attacked.
Only the avatar, master of all four elements could stop them, but when the world needed him most he disappeared.
SKIP
Booting up game...
Log In- Haangman
Enter password-***********
Game loading...
Continue previous save?
Yes
Game loading...
You are in a living room
-Observe room
You see a door to your north, a hallway to the east, a hallway to the west, and a kitchen to your south
-Go North
You are standing in front of the door
-Open Door
You put your hand on the doorknob, feeling the cold metal for the first time in years
The Door begins to creak as it slowly opens
-Walk through doorway
You walk through the door and immediately feel warmth of the outside world
-Look around
You see fire
Every tree you see is burning and nothing is left untouched by the blaze
While you can't see much you just make out a crowd
You could potentially get their by walking forward through the fire
-Walk forward
You walk ahead until you get to the fire
You can't go any further without burning
-Extinguish the fire
You hear a whoosh as the fire disappears
-Look ahead
The path ahead of you is clear
-Walk forward
You walk ahead, hearing the crunch of dead branches on your feet
The fire around you rages on and the future become clearer
It seems as if their dancing, the graceful moves offering a dissonance to the apocalyptic world around them
At first it seems as if their blissfully unaware of what's happening but slowly you realize their dancing isn't dancing
With every move they make fire bursts forth from their body
You make to the figures
The figures look at you and start to send plumes fire in your direction
Are you willing to fight
-Push the figures back with AIR
A wall of air stops the figures from going closer
Some of them fall to the floor
-Examine figures
Looking closer you can see that they are firebenders
-Look around
Firebender surround you at all ends
-Stop Firebenders with AIR
You create an all of air around you, and it slowly expands
As it reaches the firebenders they create a wall of fire
The combined fire of the army is too much, and the AIR has no effect
They continue marching towards you
-Attack with ALL and continue forward
You stand still and meditate, trying to access your full power
The firebenders surround now, and fire seems to enclose your body like a cocoon
Your power reaches you to late and the fire envelops you
The world goes black
Continue or Quit?
-Quit
LOG OUT?
-Yes
Log In
Remember password?
-Yes
Continue from previous game?
-Yes
WARNING a large amount of time has passed ingame
Do you still wish to continue?
-Yes
You wake up, encased in ice
| |
[WP] You reach max level in a game and lose interest for a while. Logging in months later, you find that years have past in game and chaos has spread, everyone wonders where your avatar, lauded as a savior, has gone. | My name is James, James di Ocren. I'm also world-famous.
I should start from the beginning.
~~------------------~~
So, I'll be one hundred honest. I was totally obsessed by the new MMO, Nothing Beyond. Huge worlds, thousands of quests. So obsessed, that I became the first player to ever reach the max level, level 999.
Of course, it was just a phase. I stopped playing shortly after I hit the level cap. There was truly nothing to do.
Months went by, September passed, October, November. It was only after my birthday, November 29th, did I even play the game again. I was about to format my PC, wanted to recover stuff.
Then hell broke loose.
~~----------------------~~
What I mean is, in-game, two hundred years had passed. A hacker had messed with the game, and started to reign with an iron fist, holding the highest level of all players - tying with me, at 999. I quickly checked the forum.
renegadeswrath: Where's CompleteIndie?
getout: You mean that op dood?
cartooncraze: Who else is level 999?
horrorshow2: Well, the emperor, for one.
movingpictures: he doesn't count.
Took me a minute to understand what was going on. People were talking about me? A nobody who just had a lot of time of his hands?
...
I knew what I had to do.
~~--------------------~~
It was a long, perilous journey, but I finally got to the castle.
The emperor, a player by the name of *Intensity Intensifies*, had hacked the game. Built a castle, cheated from level 13 to 999. The admins didn't even care.
But there was things uncounted for.
He got to that level through cheats. He doesn't that much experience playing. He doesn't know all the tricks and tips
I do.
~~-----------------------~~
In the castle, *Intensity Intensifies* looked at me, and over the mic he spoke.
"Greetings." he chuckled. "So, you're the guy who got to the max."
"Yes." I replied. "And I challenge you."
"Me? The emperor? I have servants, hell, *Giovanni24*, get over here." He stopped for a moment, before yelling into the mic. "What do you mean, you're done? I'll - don't you dare hang -"
He froze.
"Fine." The emperor said. He pulled out his sword, Excalibur. The same as me. "En garde."
~~--------------------------~~
u/CompleteIndie
| Fire
Earth
Water
Air
The four nations lived in peace , but everything changed when the fire nation attacked.
Only the avatar, master of all four elements could stop them, but when the world needed him most he disappeared.
SKIP
Booting up game...
Log In- Haangman
Enter password-***********
Game loading...
Continue previous save?
Yes
Game loading...
You are in a living room
-Observe room
You see a door to your north, a hallway to the east, a hallway to the west, and a kitchen to your south
-Go North
You are standing in front of the door
-Open Door
You put your hand on the doorknob, feeling the cold metal for the first time in years
The Door begins to creak as it slowly opens
-Walk through doorway
You walk through the door and immediately feel warmth of the outside world
-Look around
You see fire
Every tree you see is burning and nothing is left untouched by the blaze
While you can't see much you just make out a crowd
You could potentially get their by walking forward through the fire
-Walk forward
You walk ahead until you get to the fire
You can't go any further without burning
-Extinguish the fire
You hear a whoosh as the fire disappears
-Look ahead
The path ahead of you is clear
-Walk forward
You walk ahead, hearing the crunch of dead branches on your feet
The fire around you rages on and the future become clearer
It seems as if their dancing, the graceful moves offering a dissonance to the apocalyptic world around them
At first it seems as if their blissfully unaware of what's happening but slowly you realize their dancing isn't dancing
With every move they make fire bursts forth from their body
You make to the figures
The figures look at you and start to send plumes fire in your direction
Are you willing to fight
-Push the figures back with AIR
A wall of air stops the figures from going closer
Some of them fall to the floor
-Examine figures
Looking closer you can see that they are firebenders
-Look around
Firebender surround you at all ends
-Stop Firebenders with AIR
You create an all of air around you, and it slowly expands
As it reaches the firebenders they create a wall of fire
The combined fire of the army is too much, and the AIR has no effect
They continue marching towards you
-Attack with ALL and continue forward
You stand still and meditate, trying to access your full power
The firebenders surround now, and fire seems to enclose your body like a cocoon
Your power reaches you to late and the fire envelops you
The world goes black
Continue or Quit?
-Quit
LOG OUT?
-Yes
Log In
Remember password?
-Yes
Continue from previous game?
-Yes
WARNING a large amount of time has passed ingame
Do you still wish to continue?
-Yes
You wake up, encased in ice
| |
[WP] You reach max level in a game and lose interest for a while. Logging in months later, you find that years have past in game and chaos has spread, everyone wonders where your avatar, lauded as a savior, has gone. | We spoke the legends, first of all. The people of Pargonark have heard stories of the mighty heroes for generations now, passed from one storyteller to another and never told quite exactly the same. Some elements changed. No one could ever entirely agree on how many arms the great metal destroyer had. Was it six, or eight, or ten? Was the fur which lined the winter hero’s boots and gloves white or brown? Was the towering stone-skinned giant brought to life through magic or was he simply a man made unbreakable? And on the rules of the otherworldly ball game that one of them played. We would argue for hours about that. Even creating our own version many years ago which included a pit of mutated tigers for reasons that are far too complicated to explain. Just know that it was not my idea.
But we did know for certain that the heroes lived in the temple. It is a holy place. It was where we take refuge in times of strife. It was where we bring the newly born to receive the blessing of the goddess of bubbles, fabled for her generosity, and where the elders kneel before the grim visage of the man in black smoke, seeking comfortable passage into the afterlife.
Alas, all was not peaceful for we people of Pargonark. Vile folk roamed the lands. They, descended from the followers of the great destroyer, had a terrible chief who sought to lay the town low with fire and ax. And they came to the great doors of the temple and found them closed. They bashed them for hours without end until finally the great doors fell down. As all seemed to be lost, our savior appeared.
He arrived all at once, blinking into being as if he were always standing there and we had simply not noticed. Skin as black as night, glistening like a riverbed, etched with red markings down either side of his face. In a suit of gold and a cloak of green which hung down his back, all in fabric finer than any we had ever seen. And he spoke with knowledge beyond the mortal, beyond the universe we know. Befitting of a timeless, ageless hero.
“Huh. Looks like they reskinned this place.” Said he, as he stood alone between us and the horde of the destroyer.
The vile folk stopped as they saw him, unsure. But their chief was unmoved by the glory of the hero and stepped forward, swinging a great metal blade. It came down upon him and broke upon him like a branch against the mountainside. Then the hero raised one fist and struck the chief, who instantly vanished into a cloud of pink mist.
“I guess I’m a bit overleveled for this content.” The hero said as he examined his fist.
The remaining followers of the destroyer were filled with terror and ran from the temple and from Pargonark and back to the place where they first crawled from, and the people rejoiced. The unbreakable stone hero, Jagganath, had returned to us at last.
=
"Hello. You've reached the Huerta residence. We are not available now. Please leave your name and phone number after the beep."
**BEEP**
"Manny! It's Samir. Man, I got Cowl Online running and it's gone post-apocalyptic. Full-on Cloud Atlas in there. We need to get the supergroup back together. Call me back." | I logged onto second life after at least a decade, hoping for a bit of a nostalgia kick or maybe to make a friend. The player nearest to me was staring straight at me with the message "THE CHOSEN ONE!!!" floating above his head. Soon, my screen was flooded with players and messages. They all asked for donations from me, or to be my friend. They referred to me by titles of respect such as "He Who Donates Great Items To The Poor", "He Who Trolls Players With An Ice Staff", " He Who Sets His Muscle To Max"... Wait, "He Who Accidentally Humps Someone's Face And Goes Offline For Years"?
I logged off and deleted the game. Never again. | |
[WP] You reach max level in a game and lose interest for a while. Logging in months later, you find that years have past in game and chaos has spread, everyone wonders where your avatar, lauded as a savior, has gone. | Ragnok awoke gasping for breath expelling a mound of dust from his lungs. Wrenching his torso forward he sat up and looked around the dark hole in which he laid, the smell of mold and decay filling his nostrils with a musty funk. "Where am I?" he mumbled to himself. "How did I get here?". He looked around as his eyes adjusted to the darkness to see emptiness within the chamber. A few urns and casks on the wall and a few statues to keep him company. His eyes were drawn to one particular statue which lorded behind him with a presence and power preserved in it, an inscription at it's base, unreadable in the dark. Still there was something familiar about the titan. Something in the recesses of Ragnok's mind stirred, but was pushed away as he stood letting a mighty crack from his stiff joints as he stretched. He made his way towards the sliver of light, spilling in from the adjoining chamber.
With a push he was able to open the door. Shielding his eyes, he turned his head away back towards the void from which he emerged. "Catacombs? What happened to me!?" Ragnok sauntered forward into the light, he closed his eyes and basked in the refreshing warmth as it washed over him. In front of him a barn in ruin. It looked abandoned for many years. All around him, Desolation. As far as the eye could see. He walked foward along the path searching desperately for any clue as to where he was and what happened. A sentry tower in ruin to his left, indistinguishable remains to his right. The once lush river valley which he used to frequent to the cheers and reverence of the people he once protected were now ashen and barren. He ran as best as he could in his weary form toward the road and made his way east.
Finally he came upon something, "It can't be!" he whispered. It sat ablaze under siege of hordes of undead, bandits and cutthroats alike. He charged and began to cut down one after the other, regaining his strengths as he did until finally he managed to chase the remaining fiends off. It was a sign on the inn that dropped him to his knees and caused him to weep. Sentinel Hill. "It couldn't be! What happened here!?"
He ran to the crumbling tower where a man and woman in armor kneel exhausted. "What happened!? Where are the workers carrying wood? Where are the caravans!? Where are the children of the innkeeper!?" The soldiers pulled themselves to their feet and examined him quizzically. They had gotten word that no reinforcements would be coming. Yet this warrior who came seemingly out of nowhere, was able to cut down the horde with ease. He looked so familiar, but that might have just been from the exhaustion, and the elation of knowing that they were safe for now. "What happened.........?" the General spoke. "Ever since he disappeared, chaos and death have reigned over us." "He?" Asked Ragnok. "Who?" "The legendary warrior, everyone knew of him. He was the arbiter of peace in the realm. All who opposed him were slain, all who needed him were saved. Then one day, he just disappeared. The King sent emissary after emissary, scout after scout. They all came back with nothing." "That's when the evil came. It poisoned everything it touched. We've so far been powerless to stop it, only delaying the inevitable holding onto what little hope we have."
Ragnok looked deeply into the eyes of the Commanders. They were so tired. Lasting to the next day was all they were concerned with now. He turned as this all rolled around in his head, seeing a young woman, just a girl even, riding a proud gilded chestnut brown steed. "Hmm," he thought, "You used to have to be much older and experienced to ride a mount....."
- my first ever. thanks for reading.
-TheWingus | I logged onto second life after at least a decade, hoping for a bit of a nostalgia kick or maybe to make a friend. The player nearest to me was staring straight at me with the message "THE CHOSEN ONE!!!" floating above his head. Soon, my screen was flooded with players and messages. They all asked for donations from me, or to be my friend. They referred to me by titles of respect such as "He Who Donates Great Items To The Poor", "He Who Trolls Players With An Ice Staff", " He Who Sets His Muscle To Max"... Wait, "He Who Accidentally Humps Someone's Face And Goes Offline For Years"?
I logged off and deleted the game. Never again. | |
[WP] You reach max level in a game and lose interest for a while. Logging in months later, you find that years have past in game and chaos has spread, everyone wonders where your avatar, lauded as a savior, has gone. | It wasn't Evan's first rodeo.
He had picked up, left, and returned to other MMOs before. He knew this one wasn't likely to keep his interest more than four months tops. But the passion for his real-life projects had waned again. The band he had put together over the past year had dissolved into the whisky of the bass player, taking his girlfriend, their lead singer, with him. Evan pulled another beer from the fridge as the phone booted up to the game loading screen. At least this location based RPG would give him an excuse to leave the house again.
Evan clicked through the updated privacy statement, EULA, and various other pages of legalese after logging in. He was greeted by a red, lightning streaked sky where his ceiling should be. Evan blinked. The developers had been busy. He turned the phone slowly checking out the windy dunes that now laid on the screen between him and the four walls of his apartment. None of this looked like the major city he had logged out in. Must be part of a new expansion they had rolled out.
A new quest notification appeared in the middle of his screen.
"Escort the Chosen"
He opened it his quest log. A group quest. An unlimited size group quest. Everyone on the server could join. And it looked like they had.
The screen filled with character names as he scrolled down the list of people joining the quest. He looked at the total number listed at the top as it continued to rise. 41,353. 41,478. 41,692.
It started to grow faster. And faster.
Evan started to search the quest description. Sounded like there was a very important NPC somewhere that had to be guarded as they walked to a quest location. And it had to be a long trip, since the quest was global. But instead there was:
"Guard Evan on his way home." | I logged onto second life after at least a decade, hoping for a bit of a nostalgia kick or maybe to make a friend. The player nearest to me was staring straight at me with the message "THE CHOSEN ONE!!!" floating above his head. Soon, my screen was flooded with players and messages. They all asked for donations from me, or to be my friend. They referred to me by titles of respect such as "He Who Donates Great Items To The Poor", "He Who Trolls Players With An Ice Staff", " He Who Sets His Muscle To Max"... Wait, "He Who Accidentally Humps Someone's Face And Goes Offline For Years"?
I logged off and deleted the game. Never again. | |
[WP] You reach max level in a game and lose interest for a while. Logging in months later, you find that years have past in game and chaos has spread, everyone wonders where your avatar, lauded as a savior, has gone. | With a final flourish, the Legendary Hero dashed behind the Great Evil and unleashed a series of strikes, the hastily-written accounts of which given by the few surviving eye witnesses to scribes, would have swordmasters from around the world struggling to recreate even parts of it.
The Great Evil was undone. Scaly claws clutched at its breast as its unholy energies dissipated in a mighty explosion. The hero didn't even bother to watch, instead walking calmly away towards the archway enclosing the sacred stone circle where the Evil had been released. Troops from the Queensguard were just now arriving, gasping for breath, running over the path of monster corpses left in the wake. The Hero nodded and clapped Captain Reginald on the shoulder as he pulled out a clockwork stopwatch from a pocket on his breastplate.
"9:45- Well all right. World record." The soldiers in attendance thought they could hear otherworldy cheering from the gods for a moment, a haunting sound of beings from another dimension.
"Sir? What... what happened just now?"
The Hero had arrived in the Castle right as it would have fallen to the Evil's vanguard. After managing to stop the Dark One's lieutenant at the gates against all odds, the Queen had laid out a multi-week campaign to fight through each of the provinces, each one holding one piece of the Armor of Light and the Four Keys to the vault of the Diamond Sword of Pride and Achievement. The Hero had given the Queen a single salute, then felled a tree inside the castle across the moat, run across it, and grabbed a barrel of dwarven explosives. Placing it next to a trebuchet, he had blasted it 19 degrees to the right, climbed onto its payload and launched himself directly onto a snowbank on the roof of the Temple of the Diamond Sword, bypassing all four Key Chambers and their Guardians. Taking the Sword directly, he had then grabbed a single wooden shield, and jumped off a back parapet, surfing down the Stone Circle and breaking the seal. The legendary combination strikes, footwork, and perfect timing of that fight would found entire schools of different martial arts during the dark times to come.
"Well Reg, I gotta go. Got a surprise for the girlfriend tonight. She was humoring me by letting me get this one thing off my plate. Got an Epic Ring and everything."
"But sir... the Dark Sigil.. it still needs to be cleaved in twain, and the pieces delivered to the Sun and Moon temple."
A sinister dinner plate sized coin, adorned with a scowling goat skull, radiating dark purple smoke, sizzled in the crater left by the Evil's explosion.
"Ah. Done it. Fun stuff. Doesn't matter towards the final run time."
"Sir?"
"Think of this world as.. one of a hundred paths through the Shadow Forest. I've run down every path. I had a lot of fun with you guys! But at last it's time to go. I've got another path on another world."
The Hero closed his eyes and took a breath, releasing it slowly. Then he knelt down, laying the Diamond Sword across his knee. His form darkened into a stone statue and as a beam of pure light and ascended into the heavens.
A few injured Queensguard cried out. Black, oily smoke was slowly spreading from the Sigil, tendrils slowly rising from it. The Seer hobbled forward and placed her hand on the statue.
"His spirit has left us. But we must preserve his body. The cycle will continue."
A squad of Queensguard hefted the stone statue into the back of a waiting horsecart, and powerful draft horses made haste to outrun the creeping black oil was pushing to the edges of the Stone Circle. The Guard beat a retreat as the sky darkened and small portals began to spit forth the first imps and other creatures, as evil... respawned.
The seasons that followed were difficult. Monsters and demons attacked without cease. The outer towns and provinces gained immediately after the Evil One's fall were lost again. The Queen's forces were pushed all the way back to the castle, and a new evil slammed the castle gates with evil fists. The end seemed nigh after all.
A beam of light descended from the heavens and engulfed the Hero's statue in a mighty glow. A booted foot stepped out, and the Hero followed. At that moment, a man-sized crack in the gates split in two, and waves of monsters and skeletons poured in. The Hero roared in glee and charged them, swinging his Diamond Blade.
He lacked most of the legendary grace. Instead of combos to rival the geometric tapestries of the Throne Room, he simply slashed forward again and again. Yet, monsters still fell due his no unconsiderable raw strength. He slashed twice and on the third, loosed a slice of pure energy. One of the simplest moves anyone had seen the Hero do, but still effective. Laughing again, he continued to launch wave after wave into groups of snarling monsters, howling in rage at being pushed back so close to their goal.
A confused Captain Reginald turned to the Seer. She simply nodded and closed her eyes, chanting a few ancient codes. A tendril of white light stretched from her palm to the body of the Hero, who seemed delighted that he could charge the energy from two slashes into a mighty leap, slamming all monsters in a circle with crushing force.
"It is indeed the Hero's body, but his soul no longer inhabits it."
Captain Reginald's face fell for a moment, only to turn to happiness a moment later.
"The Hero has sent the spirit of his daughter." | I logged onto second life after at least a decade, hoping for a bit of a nostalgia kick or maybe to make a friend. The player nearest to me was staring straight at me with the message "THE CHOSEN ONE!!!" floating above his head. Soon, my screen was flooded with players and messages. They all asked for donations from me, or to be my friend. They referred to me by titles of respect such as "He Who Donates Great Items To The Poor", "He Who Trolls Players With An Ice Staff", " He Who Sets His Muscle To Max"... Wait, "He Who Accidentally Humps Someone's Face And Goes Offline For Years"?
I logged off and deleted the game. Never again. | |
[WP] You reach max level in a game and lose interest for a while. Logging in months later, you find that years have past in game and chaos has spread, everyone wonders where your avatar, lauded as a savior, has gone. | My name is James, James di Ocren. I'm also world-famous.
I should start from the beginning.
~~------------------~~
So, I'll be one hundred honest. I was totally obsessed by the new MMO, Nothing Beyond. Huge worlds, thousands of quests. So obsessed, that I became the first player to ever reach the max level, level 999.
Of course, it was just a phase. I stopped playing shortly after I hit the level cap. There was truly nothing to do.
Months went by, September passed, October, November. It was only after my birthday, November 29th, did I even play the game again. I was about to format my PC, wanted to recover stuff.
Then hell broke loose.
~~----------------------~~
What I mean is, in-game, two hundred years had passed. A hacker had messed with the game, and started to reign with an iron fist, holding the highest level of all players - tying with me, at 999. I quickly checked the forum.
renegadeswrath: Where's CompleteIndie?
getout: You mean that op dood?
cartooncraze: Who else is level 999?
horrorshow2: Well, the emperor, for one.
movingpictures: he doesn't count.
Took me a minute to understand what was going on. People were talking about me? A nobody who just had a lot of time of his hands?
...
I knew what I had to do.
~~--------------------~~
It was a long, perilous journey, but I finally got to the castle.
The emperor, a player by the name of *Intensity Intensifies*, had hacked the game. Built a castle, cheated from level 13 to 999. The admins didn't even care.
But there was things uncounted for.
He got to that level through cheats. He doesn't that much experience playing. He doesn't know all the tricks and tips
I do.
~~-----------------------~~
In the castle, *Intensity Intensifies* looked at me, and over the mic he spoke.
"Greetings." he chuckled. "So, you're the guy who got to the max."
"Yes." I replied. "And I challenge you."
"Me? The emperor? I have servants, hell, *Giovanni24*, get over here." He stopped for a moment, before yelling into the mic. "What do you mean, you're done? I'll - don't you dare hang -"
He froze.
"Fine." The emperor said. He pulled out his sword, Excalibur. The same as me. "En garde."
~~--------------------------~~
u/CompleteIndie
| I logged onto second life after at least a decade, hoping for a bit of a nostalgia kick or maybe to make a friend. The player nearest to me was staring straight at me with the message "THE CHOSEN ONE!!!" floating above his head. Soon, my screen was flooded with players and messages. They all asked for donations from me, or to be my friend. They referred to me by titles of respect such as "He Who Donates Great Items To The Poor", "He Who Trolls Players With An Ice Staff", " He Who Sets His Muscle To Max"... Wait, "He Who Accidentally Humps Someone's Face And Goes Offline For Years"?
I logged off and deleted the game. Never again. | |
[WP] You reach max level in a game and lose interest for a while. Logging in months later, you find that years have past in game and chaos has spread, everyone wonders where your avatar, lauded as a savior, has gone. | My name is James, James di Ocren. I'm also world-famous.
I should start from the beginning.
~~------------------~~
So, I'll be one hundred honest. I was totally obsessed by the new MMO, Nothing Beyond. Huge worlds, thousands of quests. So obsessed, that I became the first player to ever reach the max level, level 999.
Of course, it was just a phase. I stopped playing shortly after I hit the level cap. There was truly nothing to do.
Months went by, September passed, October, November. It was only after my birthday, November 29th, did I even play the game again. I was about to format my PC, wanted to recover stuff.
Then hell broke loose.
~~----------------------~~
What I mean is, in-game, two hundred years had passed. A hacker had messed with the game, and started to reign with an iron fist, holding the highest level of all players - tying with me, at 999. I quickly checked the forum.
renegadeswrath: Where's CompleteIndie?
getout: You mean that op dood?
cartooncraze: Who else is level 999?
horrorshow2: Well, the emperor, for one.
movingpictures: he doesn't count.
Took me a minute to understand what was going on. People were talking about me? A nobody who just had a lot of time of his hands?
...
I knew what I had to do.
~~--------------------~~
It was a long, perilous journey, but I finally got to the castle.
The emperor, a player by the name of *Intensity Intensifies*, had hacked the game. Built a castle, cheated from level 13 to 999. The admins didn't even care.
But there was things uncounted for.
He got to that level through cheats. He doesn't that much experience playing. He doesn't know all the tricks and tips
I do.
~~-----------------------~~
In the castle, *Intensity Intensifies* looked at me, and over the mic he spoke.
"Greetings." he chuckled. "So, you're the guy who got to the max."
"Yes." I replied. "And I challenge you."
"Me? The emperor? I have servants, hell, *Giovanni24*, get over here." He stopped for a moment, before yelling into the mic. "What do you mean, you're done? I'll - don't you dare hang -"
He froze.
"Fine." The emperor said. He pulled out his sword, Excalibur. The same as me. "En garde."
~~--------------------------~~
u/CompleteIndie
| We spoke the legends, first of all. The people of Pargonark have heard stories of the mighty heroes for generations now, passed from one storyteller to another and never told quite exactly the same. Some elements changed. No one could ever entirely agree on how many arms the great metal destroyer had. Was it six, or eight, or ten? Was the fur which lined the winter hero’s boots and gloves white or brown? Was the towering stone-skinned giant brought to life through magic or was he simply a man made unbreakable? And on the rules of the otherworldly ball game that one of them played. We would argue for hours about that. Even creating our own version many years ago which included a pit of mutated tigers for reasons that are far too complicated to explain. Just know that it was not my idea.
But we did know for certain that the heroes lived in the temple. It is a holy place. It was where we take refuge in times of strife. It was where we bring the newly born to receive the blessing of the goddess of bubbles, fabled for her generosity, and where the elders kneel before the grim visage of the man in black smoke, seeking comfortable passage into the afterlife.
Alas, all was not peaceful for we people of Pargonark. Vile folk roamed the lands. They, descended from the followers of the great destroyer, had a terrible chief who sought to lay the town low with fire and ax. And they came to the great doors of the temple and found them closed. They bashed them for hours without end until finally the great doors fell down. As all seemed to be lost, our savior appeared.
He arrived all at once, blinking into being as if he were always standing there and we had simply not noticed. Skin as black as night, glistening like a riverbed, etched with red markings down either side of his face. In a suit of gold and a cloak of green which hung down his back, all in fabric finer than any we had ever seen. And he spoke with knowledge beyond the mortal, beyond the universe we know. Befitting of a timeless, ageless hero.
“Huh. Looks like they reskinned this place.” Said he, as he stood alone between us and the horde of the destroyer.
The vile folk stopped as they saw him, unsure. But their chief was unmoved by the glory of the hero and stepped forward, swinging a great metal blade. It came down upon him and broke upon him like a branch against the mountainside. Then the hero raised one fist and struck the chief, who instantly vanished into a cloud of pink mist.
“I guess I’m a bit overleveled for this content.” The hero said as he examined his fist.
The remaining followers of the destroyer were filled with terror and ran from the temple and from Pargonark and back to the place where they first crawled from, and the people rejoiced. The unbreakable stone hero, Jagganath, had returned to us at last.
=
"Hello. You've reached the Huerta residence. We are not available now. Please leave your name and phone number after the beep."
**BEEP**
"Manny! It's Samir. Man, I got Cowl Online running and it's gone post-apocalyptic. Full-on Cloud Atlas in there. We need to get the supergroup back together. Call me back." | |
[WP] You reach max level in a game and lose interest for a while. Logging in months later, you find that years have past in game and chaos has spread, everyone wonders where your avatar, lauded as a savior, has gone. | It's impossible to not stand in fire when the whole room's ablaze...
The itch to log on had been growing for the last hour. He sat twirling in his chair, fighting the compulsion. Two years free he had lasted. Two highly productive years on the outside, and it had all went to shit in the last 12 hours. All because of one failed project, the one he couldn't afford to fail.
A set of footsteps from down the hall slowly plodded in his direction. His wife entered the unlit room. "What are you doing babe? It's 3 in the morning." She caught a yawn, and began rubbing sleep from her eyes.
"Couldn't sleep. Need to clear my head." He replied, still twirling.
"I'm sorry babe." She put her hand on his shoulder. "Come back to bed, we'll get this figured out once we wake up."
He shrugged her off. "In a minute."
She reached back out for him. "Babe, you're great. Don't let anyone tell you different. We'll find some other job for you. There's always people looking for good help." She planted a kiss on the back of his head, and stumbled out of the room. "I'm going back to sleep. You should too."
He watched her leave, and then immediately turned on his computer monitor. The room lit up and he looked away, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the blue glow of the desktop background. The itch always won.
Click, click. A window popped up and began downloading. He rifled through a nearby bin and found his old headgear. He grabbed the cord and plugged in, putting the visor over his head. Ten minutes went by. Click. Several keystrokes later and he was in.
The city he had logged out in was gone, replaced by ruins. A game patch must have changed the world a bit. Updating old content was something devs always did.
He opened his contact list. The fact that no one was online didn't surprise him. Three in the morning on a Tuesday wasn't prime gaming hours for most. Still, his entire list of friends was gone, empty. He opened up the world map, and searched for players in the area. Two people, M4V3Rick and MOARtea, popped up in the next zone over. That was it. The three of them were the only ones logged in. Even when the game had first launched it always had at least 200 concurrent players on a server at any given time.
He opened a chat window and typed a message to MOARtea.
Chosen1: Hey, just logged in for the first time in a couple of years, what's new? Where's everybody?
The reply was instantaneous.
MOARtea: Geeze, we've only been waiting two years for you to return. Everyone's locked up, unable to leave, and needs your help. Whatever you do, don't try to log out. Hide. This. Is. Not. A. Joke. No trolling. For real. Go. Hide!
A wave of anxiety hit him, his body unprepared for the startle this early. He typed a similar message to M4V3Rick, hoping for a more welcoming response.
Chosen1: Hey I just logged in for the first time in two years. What's going on?
M4V3Rick: I don't give a fuck. Hide!
He hid. | Reluctantly crouched at the starting line...
The crowd roars and shocks us awake. A blaring noise rips through the air and yanks us into our body, and we look up to see a large Ork squatting not 20ft away over a football with spikes.
Engines pumping and thumping in time...
Memories flood our mind, and a quick look at the scoreboard shows a dismal count, of the second quarter. The crowd is largely consisting of Orks in the other team's colors, with only a small section that is still loyal.
The green light flashes, the flags go up...
A whistle blows and our team rushes past us, but the Orks have blood in their eyes and steam roll us. But memory says it's just a ploy. Orks don't like throwing the ball much, but rarely is their QB tied down on the front lines.
Churning and burning, they yearn for the cup...
A scream erupts from the stands. We get punched hard, flying out of the fray of linebackers. Scrambling up we see our section of fans being attacked by the Orks. The fans are doing their best, but when Orks get riled up on a winning streak it's hard to stop them. Looking left we see the Ork QB with the ball, sprinting as fast as his legs will carry them.
They deftly maneuver and muscle for rank...
Run. The 50. The 40
Running like a harsh winter wind, we blitz through the billowing snow. Two of our linebackers break off from the scuffle and follow us as wingmen, but the Orks have set up a defense of three to guard the QB. One of the Orks begins a mad dash towards us.
Fuel burning fast on an empty tank...
Muscle memory. Glory. The 30. The 20.
We juke as the Ork bull rushes past, only to be met by our right hand man, who takes the beast to the ground. The second and third attempt to rush our legs, but we manage to step on one and deck the other, leaving our other wingman to keep them occupied.
Reckless and wild, they pour through the turns...
Looking back at the stands. The 15. The 10.
It's not just about the game. The fans. They've stayed here through 3 years of inactivity. The announcers say that the Rad Sun Orks have been mopping the League ever since. If we just stop this one goal...
Their prowess is potent and secretly stern...
The 5.
We lunge left, taking the Ork by the legs, stopping him from his fame and fortune. Silence befalls the stadium. A blaring noise rips through the air and everyone cheers. At 14-6 by Half Time, there's still hope.
Standing over the Ork, we nudge their beefy head to look at the section of fans.
"Welcome to Blood Bowl." | |
[WP] You reach max level in a game and lose interest for a while. Logging in months later, you find that years have past in game and chaos has spread, everyone wonders where your avatar, lauded as a savior, has gone. | I expected, perhaps, five to ten in-game messages when I logged in. A couple of reminders to renew my subscription, maybe a ping or two from old guild mates who missed me, and the odd automated chatbot request informing me of singles in my area.
I did not expect *over nine thousand* messages flooding my screen.
*He’s back! He’s returned!*
*… really? Does he still have the Blade of Sopaa-*
*We’re saved! Haha, suck that noob devs, we’re going to really tear you a ne-*
*What? Really? No way, the real Vorta1990, and not a copycat? Bro, my heart can’t tak-*
On and on it went, until my screen filled with avatars, just clustering in for a closer look.
Out of that sea of pixels, one name was highlighted in green, with a star next to it. The visual flair was not necessary – I would have recognized my guild leader anywhere. We had gone on more adventures than I could recall.
“Samorax!” I typed in PM. “What the hell is happening!”
“Bro, glad to have you back! Look, whatever you do, *don’t sell anything*! Don’t unequip, don’t re-roll, nothing! Just stay where you are!”
“Sure, but I have no idea why-”
“Did you read the patch notes? Anything which the devs have released?”
“No, not really,” I typed. “I mean, I’m back only because I read that the devs have pushed out a world reset, so I thought, hey, just about the right time to come back in.”
“Oh man, you really don’t know!”
My phone started vibrating at that point, and so furiously too that it almost toddled off the table. Messages were pouring through the game app too.
*1,200 g for the Sopaa*
*25 diamonds, deal now*
*Hey baby, I’ll send you some very* special *pixxx if you transfer your Blade to me… you know which one…*
“Samorax, I’m freaking out man,” I typed. “You’re the only one I trust, please just tell me…”
“Ok, ok, look. While you were away, the devs nerfed everything. I mean, *everything*. Our weapons are crap now, our armor is shit. No one can clear any of the raids. We revolted, of course. The devs tried to appease us, said that they would bestow OP gear on any toons who hit max level before the start of the year…”
“Oh,” I typed. “So, did I get one? I think I hit level cap just befor-”
“Are you kidding me?” Samorax typed. “You’re the *only* one who was legitimately max level then! The devs were being sneaky, they thought it would go under the radar that no one actually got the OP gear they promised! It was a scam, but we checked – you’re the only toon here who actually has it! Check your inventory, now!”
I did.
And my eyes grew to saucers.
“Whoa… my main weapon… it’s like… +32767 attack! Is that even possible?”
“Not only that!” Samorax raved. “Everyone in your party is invulnerable! Man, you really struck the gold mine! We’ll clear raids in *minutes*, and not the ridiculous ten-hour slogs it takes now! No one will ever have to spend another dollar on temporary boosts!”
“But… but wait. This sword… It’s called ‘The Edge of Cleaving’. Why’s everyone calling it the Blade of Sopaa? My toon ain’t even called that?”
Samorax typed an entire string of emoticons, laughing ones, crying ones, puking ones.
“Dude! It’s the Blade of Sense of Pride and Accomplishment!”
---
/r/rarelyfunny
| The group of adventurers surrounded Jacob, completely in awe of him.
"Could it really be?" one of them said.
Jacob looked around. Everything had changed. The world seemed so much... *darker.*
"By the heavens, it really is him. The prophecy was true all along!" another cried.
"What has happened here?" Jacob asked, addressing the nearest adventurer. "What has ravaged these lands so?"
"An evil entity has taken over these lands, oh great one," the adventurer said in hushed tones. "It has been destroying the spirit of our kingdom from the inside out."
"Then come with me, and we will defeat it together!" Jacob roared, brandishing his sword.
"We cannot afford to," the adventurers bemoaned.
"Nonsense," Jacob said, "an adventurer does not need gold, only time and skill."
"No - the times have changed. The entity has seen to that."
Jacob was perplexed.
"Then I will kill it by myself, and rid the lands of the evil that plagues you," he said, undeterred.
"That is not possible," the adventurer said, his head held low. "The beast has no physical form. It cannot be harmed."
"What is it then? An evil spirit? A necromancer?"
"It is far, far worse than that, great one," the adventurer said.
"Then what could it possibly be?"
"*Microtransactions.*"
******
/r/CroatianSpy | |
[WP] You reach max level in a game and lose interest for a while. Logging in months later, you find that years have past in game and chaos has spread, everyone wonders where your avatar, lauded as a savior, has gone. | I expected, perhaps, five to ten in-game messages when I logged in. A couple of reminders to renew my subscription, maybe a ping or two from old guild mates who missed me, and the odd automated chatbot request informing me of singles in my area.
I did not expect *over nine thousand* messages flooding my screen.
*He’s back! He’s returned!*
*… really? Does he still have the Blade of Sopaa-*
*We’re saved! Haha, suck that noob devs, we’re going to really tear you a ne-*
*What? Really? No way, the real Vorta1990, and not a copycat? Bro, my heart can’t tak-*
On and on it went, until my screen filled with avatars, just clustering in for a closer look.
Out of that sea of pixels, one name was highlighted in green, with a star next to it. The visual flair was not necessary – I would have recognized my guild leader anywhere. We had gone on more adventures than I could recall.
“Samorax!” I typed in PM. “What the hell is happening!”
“Bro, glad to have you back! Look, whatever you do, *don’t sell anything*! Don’t unequip, don’t re-roll, nothing! Just stay where you are!”
“Sure, but I have no idea why-”
“Did you read the patch notes? Anything which the devs have released?”
“No, not really,” I typed. “I mean, I’m back only because I read that the devs have pushed out a world reset, so I thought, hey, just about the right time to come back in.”
“Oh man, you really don’t know!”
My phone started vibrating at that point, and so furiously too that it almost toddled off the table. Messages were pouring through the game app too.
*1,200 g for the Sopaa*
*25 diamonds, deal now*
*Hey baby, I’ll send you some very* special *pixxx if you transfer your Blade to me… you know which one…*
“Samorax, I’m freaking out man,” I typed. “You’re the only one I trust, please just tell me…”
“Ok, ok, look. While you were away, the devs nerfed everything. I mean, *everything*. Our weapons are crap now, our armor is shit. No one can clear any of the raids. We revolted, of course. The devs tried to appease us, said that they would bestow OP gear on any toons who hit max level before the start of the year…”
“Oh,” I typed. “So, did I get one? I think I hit level cap just befor-”
“Are you kidding me?” Samorax typed. “You’re the *only* one who was legitimately max level then! The devs were being sneaky, they thought it would go under the radar that no one actually got the OP gear they promised! It was a scam, but we checked – you’re the only toon here who actually has it! Check your inventory, now!”
I did.
And my eyes grew to saucers.
“Whoa… my main weapon… it’s like… +32767 attack! Is that even possible?”
“Not only that!” Samorax raved. “Everyone in your party is invulnerable! Man, you really struck the gold mine! We’ll clear raids in *minutes*, and not the ridiculous ten-hour slogs it takes now! No one will ever have to spend another dollar on temporary boosts!”
“But… but wait. This sword… It’s called ‘The Edge of Cleaving’. Why’s everyone calling it the Blade of Sopaa? My toon ain’t even called that?”
Samorax typed an entire string of emoticons, laughing ones, crying ones, puking ones.
“Dude! It’s the Blade of Sense of Pride and Accomplishment!”
---
/r/rarelyfunny
| Fires roared, and black smoke belched out of the castle. The sky bled as day turned to night. Legions of creatures in black scales marched into lush forests and sleepy villages, leaving only ashes and death in their wake. People covered their faces or threw up their hands in despair at the empty throne. A golden apple tumbled down the marble steps. A sword sparkled inside a block of ice. A queen rested in a coffin. The dead climbed out of their graves.
****
Chris shuddered and opened his eyes, sweat soaked his clothes. It felt like he’d had one of his usual seizures, only this time the vision had been much clearer. He dragged himself up from the floor of the grocery store and followed aisle six down toward the locker room. His back and thighs were sore after his wife had finally convinced him to get a gym membership, and to clear out his gaming room. He hadn't played in a long time, but with a baby on the way, they needed all the space they could get. The old VR equipment did hold a lot of sentimental value to him, but that hadn’t been enough to convince her to let him keep it.
Running a hand through his graying hair, Chris felt the sweat on his fingers. His last shift was done, and he couldn’t wait to crack open a cold beer and spend the rest of the evening on his sofa, watching the new Game of Thrones episode. Ever since he had stopped playing, he’d had these nightmarish seizures, and the need to binge on fantasy shows.
Perhaps that was the trigger now, the new season had started, and now his mind tried to tell him to stop working and get watching? His fascination with fantasy was something that his wife, Liza, never got tired of mocking him for.
‘Why don’t you like football like everyone else your age?’ she’d tell him. ‘We could invite the neighbors over for Super Bowl.’
She’d called his need for fantasy *a symptom of withdrawal*, and to be fair, he had spent a lot of time in that game.
When he finally clocked out and left, the sun had already gone down. Heading for the parking lot, he noticed that a group of people was following him. He increased his pace. This part of Detroit could get dangerous after dark. Fumbling with his car keys, he heard someone clear their throat behind him.
Chris ignored it and opened the car – he had a baseball bat under the passenger seat, just for occasions like this.
With a firm grip on the bat, he turned around. The sight that met him, first made him raise an eyebrow and then burst into a chuckle.
“See, I told you he would recognize us,” said the man wearing a cloaked white robe. “Are you ready, Your Majesty?”
The man in the white robe leaned heavily on a gnarly wooden staff and looked like he was older than a white walker. To his left stood a tall woman, dressed in a silky dress and leather despite the chilly autumn weather, and with a pair of falchions strapped to her hips.
“He doesn’t,” she said and flipped her bloodred hair. “He’s laughing, but he’s afraid of us.”
“You’re funny, Thyme,” said the last one of the three – a man in a bulky full-plate armor and shield – and snorted. “I once saw him charge headfirst into a legion of Vaarcs; he’s as fearless as they come.”
“Listen, guys, even though that armor is absolutely badass,” Chris said with a sigh, “it’s been a long day, and I’m not in the mood. So just go back to whatever convention you’re visiting.”
“With all due respect, this armor is neither bad nor arse, Milord,” the knight rumbled from within his helmet. “The blacksmiths of Laz’durm have worked day and night to make it.”
The woman elbowed the knight in his armored ribs. Her face twisted into a grimace of pain.
“He doesn’t remember, you big oaf,” she snarled and rubbed her arm. “He needs to drink the elixir. Eredran, give him the elixir.”
The old man, who appeared to have fallen asleep leaning on his staff, bobbed his head and awoke.
“Right, right, the elixir,” he mumbled and pulled out a vial filled with a glowing violet liquid. “Here, Your Majesty, have a sip of this.”
Chris laughed again, but this time it was in contempt. He shook his head and got in the driver’s seat. He slammed the door shut, but the gleaming edge of the knight’s claymore stopped it from closing.
“I told you this would happen,” the woman complained and rounded the car, drawing her own weapons.
Cursing loudly, Chris stuck the key in the ignition. The car started with an anxious chortle, but before he could back out, a gauntleted hand grabbed him by the collar and dragged him out onto the ground.
Chris kicked and screamed, trying to break free from these lunatics. He had often worried about getting mugged by thugs or stumble into a gang war, but he had never imagined that he would get jumped by Gandalf, Xena, and The Tin Man.
The knight put his entire weight on Chris, while the woman pried open his mouth. The knees of the old man cracked and whined as he crouched over Chris and popped out the cork.
“Help! Somebody help!” Chris cried out before the purple liquid filled his throat and he coughed.
The woman held her palm over his mouth and pinched his nose shut, forcing him to swallow. His vision blurred, and he started to fade out. The last thing he heard before his senses finally left him was the muttering of the old man.
“Now, where did I put the map back to Celeraan?”
“You drew a map?” Thyme said with a snort. “We’ve only traveled for half a league.”
“Why, of course! That is the first rule of the nexus portal. You always have to be able to find your way back. New realms can be quite disorienting.” Eredran threw out a hand at the mountains made of glass in the distance.
“Let’s go,” the knight rumbled with Chris limply slung over his shoulder.
“Just so,” the old man said. “Lead the way, Sir Dewrose. Take us back to the Decaying Hills!”
“I can’t believe he threw away his portal,” Thyme said, glaring. “Are you sure he wants to be king still?”
“Some rulers are born into power, others are chosen by the people,” said the knight darkly. “A true king can choose many things, but not when his people need him.”
***
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/Lilwa_Dexel/comments/7js6ab/the_king_of_celeraan_part_2/)
r/Lilwa_Dexel for more. | |
[WP] A horror story, but where the zombies are the victims, chased by sadistic human hunters. | Little Terry let our a roar and his father pulled him close. The muffled cries of the small child soaked against his father's chest as he held him tightly.
The father, a tall man dressed all in black, allowed himself one last look into the distance before he closed the hatches and looked away. A solitary tear trickled down his rough, pale face.
Terry and his father were part of a crowd, all dressed smartly and huddled together. Some were holding hands, others were embracing, others like Terry's father made sure that they didn't have to watch what they all knew was about to happen.
Terry stopped crying long enough to briefly squirm free from his father. He peered out through a gap under his arm, and peered beyond the armed guard who was stood 20ft in front of them. Beyond him further lay a polished box. It lay alone in a grass meadow, and whilst it was far too far to know what occupied the box, Terry - and everyone else gathered - certainly knew what lay inside.
Terry felt the harsh caress of a the wind on his face, his father's embrace not enough to shield him from the bitterness of the day. Terry could feel his Father shaking, a man whom he had never seen an ounce of weakness, let alone shed a tear; and yet here he was crying and vulnerable, all dressed in black.
Terry peered out to the box once more, and that was when he saw the pure white dress emerge from the box. It was beautiful, even by Terry's understanding. It appeared to shine in a way that he didn't even think possible; especially on a cold, gloomy day, where it seemed all colour and life had been sucked from the surroundings.
The pale grey face that topped the beautiful dress was familiar to Terry, and familiar to all that had gathered on that day. The thin grey hair fluttered in the wind, and the skin was all drained of colour - it was inhuman, and like nothing Terry had ever seen.
And yet the sight of his recently dead Grandmother, standing on the middle of the meadow was oddly beautiful.
She stood before them with no ounce of emotion or knowing, but it was her. It was the old, loving woman who had gave him two digestive biscuits every day after school, it was the same woman who had always slipped him extra money on his birthday with the condition of keeping it secret from his parents. And that's when Terry heard the low, dim, sounds of the rumbling in the distance. People in the crowd let out cries as they too caught wind of the rumbling, of the approaching footsteps.
The Grandmother too, seemed aware.
The grim face of the lifeless old woman, that previously was void of any emotion now seemed *scared*, and *sad*. Terry watched intently as other around him shielded their eyes. A couple of figures turned away and began to walk away, afraid to witness what was to happen next.
The Grandmother turned, and began to run. The armed guard between the crowd and the woman stood motionless, his hand still firmly on the trigger of his rifle.
As she ran, the rumbling of the footsteps grew louder, and Terry could see the approaching hoard. Scores and scores of individuals dressed in odd fitting clothes. Some even wore no clothes at all. But what they did all have in common, were the sadistic looks on their faces, the bloodlust in their eyes, and the various weapon in their hands.
Aunt Yvonne screamed, she couldn't bare to watch.
Terry's Grandmother kept running, his white dress already muddied by the white turf in which she was running. But it was over almost as soon as it started.
Something large and shiny, a throwing axe perhaps thought Terry, smashed into her back. There was screams of joy emanating from the chasing hoarde, but the Grandmother wasn't done.
Almost ominously though she stood straight back up and continued to run. But the hoarde were not to be deterred.
One assailant had caught up, and with the long machete grasped his his hand, swiped down across her leg removing the limb clean off. He grabbed the dismembered leg, and held it up in the air in triumph.
The grandmother though, carried on.
Now crawling, she struggled along the ground. Terry saw, and he swears he saw, she turned and looked at him. She caught his eye with hers, and then stopped. She laid motionless as an assailant jumped on her back, and drove a spear through her head.
Terry is now 24, and all his life zombie hunting has been real, legal, and profitable.
| That's essentially the plot of I Am Legend. The book, not the movie. Everybody changed except for Will Smith, (obvi not Will Smith in the book) and then Will Smith was the boogeyman that came during the day killing people. In the end you find out they're sentient beings and essentially the next level in "human" evolution and there was no coming back. | |
[WP] A horror story, but where the zombies are the victims, chased by sadistic human hunters. | I shamble forward, my injured leg dragging behind my rotting body.
Step.
*Slide.*
Step.
*Slide.*
I can see the others, beside me. Various states of decay, silhouetted and shambling in the dim light.
Step.
*Slide.*
Step.
*Slide.*
The smell of rancid meat fills my nose- the half of it I have left- and I want to retch, but instead, my empty stomach rumbles with hunger. The Hunger. Some of us had succumbed to it, of course, but most of us refused to. We didn’t starve, at least not very quickly. It was only the uninfected we had to fear. We’d wait for the cure. Even if it killed us.
Step.
*Slide.*
Most of the uninfected were naturally terrified. Walking corpses filled their streets. Yet, some of them spoke of a cure. That was a long time ago, though. Now, I feared they’d given up.
Step.
*Slide.*
Trip.
I fall to the ground, my jaw smacking hard against the asphalt. A stick pokes into one of my lungs, but I only feel a dim pressure. Small gifts of the illness.
A photograph lays in front of me, stained dark with old blood. It shows a little girl on a swing, with a mother behind, pushing. Cute. It reminds me of Marla. Reminds me of home. Things I’d have to forget. I try to remember Marla’s face, but I’m met with grey fog. All of my memories end up this way. Grey fog, then I slowly forget.
The cure. I have to keep going. For the cure.
I moan, slowly pushing myself from the ground. The others make way for me, and I’m relieved to see more behind me. Safety in numbers, I guess.
I’d slowly gotten to know some of the others. In our own way.
*Moan.*
Pause.
*Moan.*
It was the closest we ever got to talking. I remember the first time I tried to talk, after the transition. A strange fuzziness filled my mind, as if something was just gone. I’d felt dizzy for the rest of the day.
I continue walking.
Step.
*Slide.*
Step.
*Slide.*
The transition. Resurrection, whatever you called it. It wasn’t as painful as it looked. You slide into darkness, and for a minute, your body fills with warmth. Even the flu-like symptoms of the illness start to fade, in the last days before you change. It’s nice in a way. Like a going-away gift.
Step.
*Slide.*
Step.
*Slide.*
We come across a field of corpses. Other infected. Embers flicker in the burnt bodies. An acrid charcoal scent rises up from the dying flames. It’s not safe here.
Step.
*Slide.*
The others can tell we’re not safe here. I can sense the agitation in the air. They begin to move faster.
Step.
*Slide.*
My broken leg slows me down. I begin to fall towards the back of the group.
Step.
*Slide.*
I can hear the rumble of a car in the distance. Something larger, like a jeep.
Step.
*Slide.*
BOOM!
An explosion shakes the ground behind me. “We got one!” I hear a voice shout. I try to move faster, but it’s like being stuck in a dream where you can’t escape.
Step. *Slide.* Step. *Slide.*
Concussive fire fills the air. I can see an alley ahead of me. Maybe if I turn off the main road I can make it. I have to. For the cure. I hear the jeep bearing down on me. My heartbeat seems especially absent right now.
I look back. For a moment, I believe I can make it, and then I see a rifle rotate in my direction. The flash of gunfire. No. *This is the end.*
| Uuugh... Braaaaain... People... BRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIN!
*CLINKCLINK*
"Well now..."
Uu.. Ugh... UGHHH! UUUGHHH!
*CLINKCLINK*
"How was last night? Let's see here... The leg we hacked off actually healed up! Wow!"
Ugh! UGH! UUUAA! AHHAAAA! AHAAHAAAAAA!
*CLINKCLINK*
"Oh, that got me a nice response... Guess you still feel it when I stick those under your nails, huh?"
HUAA! HUAAAAAAAA! AAHAUAAA!
UGAH! GAAAAH! AAAAAAAGH!
UAGH! UAAAGH! UAAAAGH!
uh.. Uh.... No brain.... brains...
"Hey! I'm back again! How long as it been this time? Hey, I got you a friend!"
*CLINKCLINKCLINKCLINK*
UUUGH...
Eeeh....
Uah?
Heeeeeeee...
"Looks like the two of you get along quite well, so let's try this out!"
HIYAAA! HIEEE!
GUAAA! HAAA! AAAAAAGH! GHAAAA!
EEEEEEH! HIIIEEE! HEEE!
UGHAAA! AHUAAA! AHAUUU!
HIEEE! HEEEEEEYIIIII!
"HAHAHA! You jokers look ridiculous! Alright 3 legs! 3 arms! See you tomorrow!"
Ugh... Hugh....
Eeeh... No brain... No brain...
*CLINKCLINK*
U...
Hiii? Eeeeeh?
...
HIIII?!?!
...
HIIIIIIIYAAAAA! EIEEEEEEE!
*CLINK*
*CLINK*
*CLINK*
*CLINK* | |
[WP]You successfully defend yourself from a pair of muggers, eventually taking both their lives. You were calm the whole time, precise in movement, and nonplussed throughout. Now that the ordeal is done, you need to explain what just happened to the only 3 witnesses...your wife and two daughters. | "Alright, guys, I don't want want trouble."
It didn't matter. They had demanded my wallet but I sensed they might not be what they seemed. I reached into my pocket and pretended to look down at it but when I saw their weight shift I knew what was coming. I mentally sighed as I redirected Idiot1's knife into Idiot2's femoral artery and Idiot2's knife into Idiot1's cubital fossa.
In order to prevent the inevitable noise of their screams from alerting anyone inside I jabbed quickly into each ones throat and solar plexus. The bruises would be suspicious but I was already formulating a story about two men getting into an argument and then a knife fight as they fell to their knees. They looked surprised, like they couldn't decide whether to clutch at their throats because they couldn't breathe or their wounds because they were bleeding. I frowned as Idiot1 looked up at me in horror of what I had done to him. I gave him a slight twitch of the head as he hawker at me, as if to say 'what did you expect me to do.'
As their choking became more desperate I turned to run inside, shouting like the terrified civilian I was supposed to be, but stopped short, the scream dying in my throat. As the grim silence rolled over their dying gurgles it was incongruously matched with the cheerful jingle of the bell on the shop door.
My wife and daughters stared at me, as was their right; one does not often see a man, once seen to literally refuse to hurt a fly, murder two other men with the same cold efficiency with which one wipes a kitchen counter.
"Run!" I said in lieu of an explanation, and started running toward them. in their shocked state, they needed no explanation. They ran.
edit: changed schoolgirl into grown man | It happened before I could even process it.
One moment, Anthony was stood beside me, holding Lily's hand, chattering about Lily's favourite movie: Up. The next moment there were two dead muggers on the ground, knives in their hands, eyes staring straight up, a rushing puddle of blood seeping from under them. I was holding onto Elena and she stared down from the comfort of my chest at their bodies and joined me in looking at her father wipe clean a knife and drop the bloody tissue onto the floor, wordless.
Lily stumbled backwards, her face a blank white sheet. I was frozen. Looking at the eyes of pure evil return back into the precious brown eyes of my husband. He turned away and lifted our five year old into his arms. My oldest couldn't even cry or scream. She lay limp in his arms. He finally gave me full attention. Even Elena knew to not whine or burst a sound from her lips. The tension between us and the bodies on the floor was suffocating, thick and unavoidable that my two year old could sense it. As a mother, not knowing what to do hurt.
"Let's go," Anthony's voice was colder than I had ever heard it. He stepped forward over their bodies.
I could not move a single muscle. I thought that if I was to take a step, I'd fall with Elena in my arms.
Anthony turned to me, eyes still softening.
"We have to leave this area," he said, "It's not safe."
My mouth trembled as I tried to reply. But I couldn't. A sound didn't form. Instead, tears filled up my eyes, blurring his image. I looked at him, my murdering husband, with my memories of who I knew dying right before me. The kind sweet man. A wonderful husband and a brilliant and loving father. A man of patience, of passion and most importantly, a gentle soul. Someone I looked up to deeply. Someone I cherished with all of my heart. A cold-blooded murderer who showed no sign of fear or terror. Someone who could kill without even losing his breath. A man who walks with a knife, whilst walking home from the cinemas with his wife and young children. A man who steps over the dead bodies of people he had slaughtered. A monster.
"Who... are... you?" I wept, clinging onto my daughter. Seeing Lily practically lifeless against his head, her arms and legs hanging in his grip. Elena reacted to the sound of my voice and began to cry. I held her closer yet.
"We have to leave," he said again, his voice now as I remembered, a hand reached to me. "There may be more coming," he gulped. Under the streetlight in this warm dusk, I could see guilt streaming down his cheeks.
"More..." my mind was overridden. Why was he crying? Why?
"We've got to leave, now, Lucia," he edged towards me just as I heard the stomp of feet heading straight for us.
The thing is, I wish I could have apologised.
And taken his hand. Escaped with him and disappeared to safety.
Then I could have watched my girls grow.
Maybe we would have had a son or rescued a puppy for Lily. We would have gone on great holidays, explored castles and hills and mountains and fields of flowers and the oceans and islands, seeing sunsets over and over, tracking stars across the night sky. Held their hands through heartbreak as they grew into women, helped them with prom dresses and periods and boys and exams-- through their sicknesses and stomach aches. Their birthdays and magical Christmases, chasing chocolate eggs and bunnies, sitting through boring assemblies and shows, hearing out of tune performances and dances.
But.
It happened before I could even process it.
A man stepped behind me and dug in his blade deep into my back. Over and over. All I could do was double over, land on my knees and scream to Elena to run to her daddy. See his tears of helplessness as Elena was moved into his arms. He had a duty as a father to protect his girls. And he escaped. Lily shrieking over his shoulder, arm outstretched to me.
I couldn't even feel pain. Just my life draining away, my children and my husband disappearing into the distance as uncountable feet raced after him.
Why had we chosen that way home? I don't know. It was a short cut off the main road. Just a few minutes less than walking in a well lit area. Anthony had voiced his concern and I didn't listen. I knew he was uneasy. But we still went.
All I had to do was hold his hand and run with him. But I was stuck there. With the dead bodies lying there. What was I thinking? Just fear. Of him. Why? He had always protected me. But he couldn't.
Anthony. Please... I don't know if you'll ever hear me, but, I don't care what you do. You always loved me and Lily and Elena with all of your being. And I know now-- you never wanted to put me in danger. And I don't know how you ever became such a person beneath all of your love, but, I'll forgive you-- if you protect my girls from more pain. I'll never forgive you if you let them suffer again.
~~something a little different?~~ | |
[WP] Every year you convert the coal Santa brings you into diamonds to fund your criminal syndicate. This year you only get a note that says, "You made the wrong list - Santa Team Six" | From the moment I saw the note, dropped down my home's chimney, kept in a scroll by a cheery red bow, I sprang into action.
"Honey, what-" Alisa began as I burst into the kitchen.
"No time, dear." I gave her a quick peck on the cheek as I reached past her for the cupboard, the one with the combination lock on the handle. "Furnace protocol."
Her face paled, but I'd briefed my wife well. We'd rehearsed this plenty of times, and she knew what to do.
"Alex! Julie!" she called out, stepping into the living room as I spun the numbers on the dial. "Kids, it's time for another drill! We're going down to the shelter!"
I heard the chorus of complaints from my kids, but pushed it to the back of my mind. There'd be plenty of time to make it up to them with extra presents - if we made it through these next couple hours. I spun the last dial.
1-2-2-5. The cupboard opened, and I snagged the triple-bagged cookies and jar of shelf-stable eggnog from within.
I caught one last glimpse of Alisha as she tugged the safe room door closed behind her. "Good luck," she whispered, before her face was hidden by the steel door.
No time to waste. Folding table went by the hearth, next to the decorated tree. Cookies and eggnog went on the tabletop - I was careful not to inhale any fumes as I cracked open the eggnog container.
Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that last line of defense. I dashed over to the family computer, minimizing my son's Flash game and pulling up the home defense system.
I went down the line, toggling systems to active. I knew that, from the moment the note arrived, I'd have fewer than ten minutes until they were here, on the scene and storming in to slay with sparkling cheer.
Santa Team Six. The name struck fear into the hearts of many a veteran criminal, those who spent too many consecutive years firmly on the Naughty List. You better watch out, you better not cry...
...or a member of ST6 might permanently snuff your Scrooge habits.
I, however, was not most criminals. After all, who else had come up with the idea of accepting, nay, encouraging coal deposits, and perfecting the conversion to diamonds for income purposes? We'd turned naughtiness into an entire enterprise - and I wasn't about to let some team of holiday "heroes" shut us down.
Still activating defenses, I heard something scraping, up above the ceiling. "Sounds like the air transport's landed," I muttered to myself.
The lights went out, but the computer didn't die. ST6 had cut the power, but I had my backup generator up and running. It wouldn't last much beyond tonight... but that should hopefully be all I needed.
A hidden camera near the chimney showed the sleigh, painted in gunmetal black with baffle panels to deflect radar. They'd worked; I hadn't even seen it coming down.
But they'd made the mistake of assuming they'd be safe once they landed.
"You're coming down, and not the chimney," I muttered, activating the gravity hooks.
Nets, buried beneath the roof's covering of snow, launched up, entangling the skids of the sleigh with their hooks. A vibration through the gutters dropped dozens of icicles, each attached to the net, tugging the sleigh off the roof. I heard a muffled scream, saw one figure flailing in the camera's field of view before he dropped away.
"See you next fall," I smirked, as he hit the ground with a heavy thump outside the living room windows.
One down. Five to go. The metal barriers were in place inside the chimney, but I knew that at least one Santa Team Six member wasn't afraid of a frontal assault-
The front door shook, making the entire house shiver. I looked over, saw cracks already spreading around its frame. Blitzen, of course. I'd heard stories of him charging through a front door and right out the back without stopping, impaling a ne'er-do-well on the trip through.
Another hit, and the cracks grew. One more, and the horned, hulking shape appeared briefly in the front vestibule of my house-
-before the claymores activated and turned him to red mist.
Two down. Four to go.
Crashes from upstairs. They'd breached the windows. I grimaced, thinking of sweeping up shards of glass from Julie's bedroom carpet. The home security system caught four figures, moving forward, rifles in constant, swiveling motion. They knew I was here - somewhere.
The sharpened candy cane trap caught one who didn't quite duck in time. A second one triggered the explosive Jack-in-the-box from Alex's room, the boom once again shaking the frame of the house. The last two made it to the stairs.
I let them get a little glimpse of me disappearing around a corner. Fools. In their haste, they didn't check the floor underfoot.
A combination of Lego pieces and marbles sent them careening down the stairs in a series of muffled crashes. At the bottom, they landed in a tangled huddle of arms and legs. They nearly extricated themselves before I emptied a clip of "Holiday Cheer" into them at close range, focusing on exposed limbs and heads.
They really ought to appreciate my work more. I'd carved "Merry Christmas" into the lead of each round.
My shoulders sagged in relief. It was done. I'd survived the fabled 'Santa Team Six' and could still...
I felt a chill, a breath of frosty air, run down my spine. Slowly, hands coming up, I turned around.
"Ho, ho, hooligan can't talk so glibly now, can he?"
I stared back at the red-suited figure, his head dipping and hulking shoulders slumped to fit in my living room. I took in the size twenty black boots, the massive belt buckle that held up a belt heavy with twin Desert Eagles and a half dozen grenades, the white fur trimmed red jacket that looked unevenly colored, as if it had been stained with the blood of former opponents. The white beard, the burning eyes visible even behind the shooter's goggles.
The garishly colored shortsword, big and heavy, that pointed right between my eyes. The arrogant son-of-a-bitch even painted it green, making it look like a Christmas tree.
"Seven," I got out. "Thought it was the Santa Team Six?"
His eyes, hard as chips of pure ice, panned past me to take in the chaos. "Looks like I'll need to do some recruiting once I get back to my workshop."
"Didn't seem to put up that much of a fight." I tried to summon some courage. "I expected more."
He snorted dismissively. "Just like everyone else on the naughty list, trying to act big and strong. I see your true nature, 'Frost'. I know the code name you chose, I know how you've made ill-found gains from the coal I dole out as punishment. You should have known this reckoning would come."
"Aren't you supposed to turn the other cheek?"
"And give you another chance to slap it? I think I'll measure once, cut twice, in this case." The sword gleamed, making it abundantly clear what he meant.
I searched desperately for a comeback - but my eyes, briefly passing behind him, caught sight of something out of place. Something had stirred in my house, and it hadn't been a mouse.
I looked back up at the huge man - just as a brief wince passed over his face. I couldn't keep the smile from spreading over my face.
"You couldn't resist, could you?" I asked, grinning like the doomed prisoner whose stay of execution came as he sat down in the final chair. "You couldn't hold back, even knowing that you were up against me."
He didn't respond, but his feet shifted, legs shaking. He tried to hold the sword steady, but it shook in his hand. His mouth clenched, twitched.
"You ate the cookies and milk," I went on. "Oh, Santa. There was more in those than just holiday cheer."
He grunted, still fighting for control - but the sword fell from nerveless fingers, and he went down to one knee.
I reached down, picked up the sword. Despite how easily he'd held it, it felt heavy in my grasp. I lifted it up, pointed it at him.
"Do it," he grunted, now doubled over in agonizing pain. "Just do it, you monster."
I raised it - and then tossed it aside. "Don't think so, Nick," I answered. "I'm not killing the man who provides the raw material for my entire operation. But I think this is a point for me. A win for my side. Wouldn't you agree?"
He groaned, not speaking.
"So here's my holiday gift to you, Nick," I went on. "I'll close my eyes. I know how fast you can move, since you make it to every house in one night. You get the hell out of mine, and keep me on the naughty list - but off the list for your next little play team. Understand?"
I lifted my head, closed my eyes, prayed that I hadn't made my last mistake.
I didn't hear anything, didn't feel anything - especially not a blade cutting into my flesh, a round from a Desert Eagle chewing up my organs.
I opened my eyes.
There was nothing on the carpet in front of me but a melting pile of snow. A couple lumps of coal lay in it, along with a snapped carrot.
I finally let out the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. We'd made it. I could let out Alisha, celebrate with my family.
But first, I had to make a call.
"It's Frost," I said, once the man at the other end of the line picked up. "Santa Team Six is neutralized. Thanks for the heads up."
"Did you kill him?"
"It would have made things easier, you know," I sighed. "But no. Your boss gets to live, although he'll be trapped in the bathroom for most of the next few days."
Silence. Finally, "Merry Christmas, Frost."
"Happy holidays, you twisted little elf." I knew he hated being called by that - claimed it denigrated his whole species - but I hung up before he could answer.
I had to clean up - but my eyes fell on something sitting near the hearth, where he'd dropped it as he drew his weapon.
I opened it up, looked inside, felt my spirits rise.
"Alisha! Julie! Alex! Come out and look what presents Santa brought for you!" | The man floors the accelerator, barely slowing as he drifts around a corner on the winding mountain road. He enters a tunnel and risks a glance through the passing slats on the wall and sees sleighs, hovering above the road with the latest in stealth reindeer technology, racing to catch up with him, and slowly doing so. He smiles and chuckles to himself. Three minutes later, he reaches his destination; a nondescript dead-end road on the peak of the tallest mountain with a steep drop in every direction but for the the one he just came from. And where the Santa's henchmen are coming from. They arrive standing atop their sleighs which float smoothly into a large semicircle around him in a well-rehearsed movement. In moments the only escape route is blocked off and the business ends of ten candy canes are pointed at him. His smile only widens.
"You know" he says with a laugh "I never got a note"
A reindeer's nose begins to flash, clearly a beacon for an airdrop, and another sleigh, out of nowhere, streaks overhead. A present drops from the sky, and narrowly misses the man as he sidesteps it. It lands with an audible thud. He pulls one of the ribbons and finds, atop a cement block, a note.
"You made the wrong list - Santa Team Six"
"Huh, " he says sarcastically "so I guess that means you aren't here to help Santa carry all my presents?"
He is met with silence
"Tough crowd" he mutters to himself, sotto voce
"Anyways, this is not my first Rodeo, so I will give you a choice. Leave now, or become killers"
Santa's minions look at each other, clearly expecting a harder decision. As if laughing at his own joke, the man doubles over and, while bent, reaches inside his blazer for a gun. He tilts his head up and makes eye contact with the henchman he assumes to be Santa's right hand, judging by the size of his stomach. Slowly, the man straightens back out to a fully erect position and points the gun upwards. The henchman makes no moves, thinking there is nothing the man could have that could hurt his team.
"You're probably thinking there is nothing I can do to hurt you," says the man, echoing that sentiment. "but I don't need to hurt you"
He pulls the trigger. | |
[WP] Every year you convert the coal Santa brings you into diamonds to fund your criminal syndicate. This year you only get a note that says, "You made the wrong list - Santa Team Six" | *"I would like to make a toast!"*
Tony Marletti stood up on his chair beaming. For today was the best day of the year, today was Christmas! Or as Tony liked to call it, "Payday".
Every year on Christmas Tony gathered all the associates of his international crime syndicate, "Alternate Energy."
*"I would like to make a toast!"*
Tony raised his 250 year old scotch high. He looked down the long table in front of him, at all the people waiting for their coal.
*"I would like to make a toast! To that old fat bastard up north!"*
Cheers as the whole room shakes with laughter.
There was not a group of people on Earth that loved Santa more than Alternate Energy. For years Santa has been the groups primary income. Although human trafficking keeps close second.
Twenty Years ago, Tony, was interrogating scientist, to learn the secret to turn coal into diamonds. When he finally forced the formula out, he studied and waited for Christmas . And, As expected on Christmas morning, Tony had received a fat deposit of coal in his stocking. It only took a day for Tony to turn that 20 pounds of coal into diamonds.
The same stocking hung behind tony, alongside 30 others. One for each of his associates. All of them had been reinforced to hold all the cold the deserved.
*"I would like to make a toast! To that old fat bastard up north! To The Worlds Greatest Con!"*
The group could barley contain their excitement as they ditched their feast, and raced to their stockings.
The excitement turned to confusion, as they all reached into empty stockings.
Tony looked around trying to contemplate what was happening.
Alternative Energy turned to their boss in silence.
Tony walked towards his stocking, afraid of what he would find inside.
When he stuck his hand in he pulled out a piece of paper.On it printed in festive green cursive,
" You made the wrong list - Santa Team Six"
All the lights in the room go out.
In the darkness Tony hears thumps all around him, followed by a hundred tiny jingle bells hurrying away from him.
Tony froze in fear.
*"I might be old."*
A deep voice rumbled behind Tony
*"I might be a bastard."*
Tony felt the jolly breath on his neck."
*"But, no one, no one calls me fat!"*
A final thud.
| The man floors the accelerator, barely slowing as he drifts around a corner on the winding mountain road. He enters a tunnel and risks a glance through the passing slats on the wall and sees sleighs, hovering above the road with the latest in stealth reindeer technology, racing to catch up with him, and slowly doing so. He smiles and chuckles to himself. Three minutes later, he reaches his destination; a nondescript dead-end road on the peak of the tallest mountain with a steep drop in every direction but for the the one he just came from. And where the Santa's henchmen are coming from. They arrive standing atop their sleighs which float smoothly into a large semicircle around him in a well-rehearsed movement. In moments the only escape route is blocked off and the business ends of ten candy canes are pointed at him. His smile only widens.
"You know" he says with a laugh "I never got a note"
A reindeer's nose begins to flash, clearly a beacon for an airdrop, and another sleigh, out of nowhere, streaks overhead. A present drops from the sky, and narrowly misses the man as he sidesteps it. It lands with an audible thud. He pulls one of the ribbons and finds, atop a cement block, a note.
"You made the wrong list - Santa Team Six"
"Huh, " he says sarcastically "so I guess that means you aren't here to help Santa carry all my presents?"
He is met with silence
"Tough crowd" he mutters to himself, sotto voce
"Anyways, this is not my first Rodeo, so I will give you a choice. Leave now, or become killers"
Santa's minions look at each other, clearly expecting a harder decision. As if laughing at his own joke, the man doubles over and, while bent, reaches inside his blazer for a gun. He tilts his head up and makes eye contact with the henchman he assumes to be Santa's right hand, judging by the size of his stomach. Slowly, the man straightens back out to a fully erect position and points the gun upwards. The henchman makes no moves, thinking there is nothing the man could have that could hurt his team.
"You're probably thinking there is nothing I can do to hurt you," says the man, echoing that sentiment. "but I don't need to hurt you"
He pulls the trigger. | |
[WP] Every year you convert the coal Santa brings you into diamonds to fund your criminal syndicate. This year you only get a note that says, "You made the wrong list - Santa Team Six" | From the moment I saw the note, dropped down my home's chimney, kept in a scroll by a cheery red bow, I sprang into action.
"Honey, what-" Alisa began as I burst into the kitchen.
"No time, dear." I gave her a quick peck on the cheek as I reached past her for the cupboard, the one with the combination lock on the handle. "Furnace protocol."
Her face paled, but I'd briefed my wife well. We'd rehearsed this plenty of times, and she knew what to do.
"Alex! Julie!" she called out, stepping into the living room as I spun the numbers on the dial. "Kids, it's time for another drill! We're going down to the shelter!"
I heard the chorus of complaints from my kids, but pushed it to the back of my mind. There'd be plenty of time to make it up to them with extra presents - if we made it through these next couple hours. I spun the last dial.
1-2-2-5. The cupboard opened, and I snagged the triple-bagged cookies and jar of shelf-stable eggnog from within.
I caught one last glimpse of Alisha as she tugged the safe room door closed behind her. "Good luck," she whispered, before her face was hidden by the steel door.
No time to waste. Folding table went by the hearth, next to the decorated tree. Cookies and eggnog went on the tabletop - I was careful not to inhale any fumes as I cracked open the eggnog container.
Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that last line of defense. I dashed over to the family computer, minimizing my son's Flash game and pulling up the home defense system.
I went down the line, toggling systems to active. I knew that, from the moment the note arrived, I'd have fewer than ten minutes until they were here, on the scene and storming in to slay with sparkling cheer.
Santa Team Six. The name struck fear into the hearts of many a veteran criminal, those who spent too many consecutive years firmly on the Naughty List. You better watch out, you better not cry...
...or a member of ST6 might permanently snuff your Scrooge habits.
I, however, was not most criminals. After all, who else had come up with the idea of accepting, nay, encouraging coal deposits, and perfecting the conversion to diamonds for income purposes? We'd turned naughtiness into an entire enterprise - and I wasn't about to let some team of holiday "heroes" shut us down.
Still activating defenses, I heard something scraping, up above the ceiling. "Sounds like the air transport's landed," I muttered to myself.
The lights went out, but the computer didn't die. ST6 had cut the power, but I had my backup generator up and running. It wouldn't last much beyond tonight... but that should hopefully be all I needed.
A hidden camera near the chimney showed the sleigh, painted in gunmetal black with baffle panels to deflect radar. They'd worked; I hadn't even seen it coming down.
But they'd made the mistake of assuming they'd be safe once they landed.
"You're coming down, and not the chimney," I muttered, activating the gravity hooks.
Nets, buried beneath the roof's covering of snow, launched up, entangling the skids of the sleigh with their hooks. A vibration through the gutters dropped dozens of icicles, each attached to the net, tugging the sleigh off the roof. I heard a muffled scream, saw one figure flailing in the camera's field of view before he dropped away.
"See you next fall," I smirked, as he hit the ground with a heavy thump outside the living room windows.
One down. Five to go. The metal barriers were in place inside the chimney, but I knew that at least one Santa Team Six member wasn't afraid of a frontal assault-
The front door shook, making the entire house shiver. I looked over, saw cracks already spreading around its frame. Blitzen, of course. I'd heard stories of him charging through a front door and right out the back without stopping, impaling a ne'er-do-well on the trip through.
Another hit, and the cracks grew. One more, and the horned, hulking shape appeared briefly in the front vestibule of my house-
-before the claymores activated and turned him to red mist.
Two down. Four to go.
Crashes from upstairs. They'd breached the windows. I grimaced, thinking of sweeping up shards of glass from Julie's bedroom carpet. The home security system caught four figures, moving forward, rifles in constant, swiveling motion. They knew I was here - somewhere.
The sharpened candy cane trap caught one who didn't quite duck in time. A second one triggered the explosive Jack-in-the-box from Alex's room, the boom once again shaking the frame of the house. The last two made it to the stairs.
I let them get a little glimpse of me disappearing around a corner. Fools. In their haste, they didn't check the floor underfoot.
A combination of Lego pieces and marbles sent them careening down the stairs in a series of muffled crashes. At the bottom, they landed in a tangled huddle of arms and legs. They nearly extricated themselves before I emptied a clip of "Holiday Cheer" into them at close range, focusing on exposed limbs and heads.
They really ought to appreciate my work more. I'd carved "Merry Christmas" into the lead of each round.
My shoulders sagged in relief. It was done. I'd survived the fabled 'Santa Team Six' and could still...
I felt a chill, a breath of frosty air, run down my spine. Slowly, hands coming up, I turned around.
"Ho, ho, hooligan can't talk so glibly now, can he?"
I stared back at the red-suited figure, his head dipping and hulking shoulders slumped to fit in my living room. I took in the size twenty black boots, the massive belt buckle that held up a belt heavy with twin Desert Eagles and a half dozen grenades, the white fur trimmed red jacket that looked unevenly colored, as if it had been stained with the blood of former opponents. The white beard, the burning eyes visible even behind the shooter's goggles.
The garishly colored shortsword, big and heavy, that pointed right between my eyes. The arrogant son-of-a-bitch even painted it green, making it look like a Christmas tree.
"Seven," I got out. "Thought it was the Santa Team Six?"
His eyes, hard as chips of pure ice, panned past me to take in the chaos. "Looks like I'll need to do some recruiting once I get back to my workshop."
"Didn't seem to put up that much of a fight." I tried to summon some courage. "I expected more."
He snorted dismissively. "Just like everyone else on the naughty list, trying to act big and strong. I see your true nature, 'Frost'. I know the code name you chose, I know how you've made ill-found gains from the coal I dole out as punishment. You should have known this reckoning would come."
"Aren't you supposed to turn the other cheek?"
"And give you another chance to slap it? I think I'll measure once, cut twice, in this case." The sword gleamed, making it abundantly clear what he meant.
I searched desperately for a comeback - but my eyes, briefly passing behind him, caught sight of something out of place. Something had stirred in my house, and it hadn't been a mouse.
I looked back up at the huge man - just as a brief wince passed over his face. I couldn't keep the smile from spreading over my face.
"You couldn't resist, could you?" I asked, grinning like the doomed prisoner whose stay of execution came as he sat down in the final chair. "You couldn't hold back, even knowing that you were up against me."
He didn't respond, but his feet shifted, legs shaking. He tried to hold the sword steady, but it shook in his hand. His mouth clenched, twitched.
"You ate the cookies and milk," I went on. "Oh, Santa. There was more in those than just holiday cheer."
He grunted, still fighting for control - but the sword fell from nerveless fingers, and he went down to one knee.
I reached down, picked up the sword. Despite how easily he'd held it, it felt heavy in my grasp. I lifted it up, pointed it at him.
"Do it," he grunted, now doubled over in agonizing pain. "Just do it, you monster."
I raised it - and then tossed it aside. "Don't think so, Nick," I answered. "I'm not killing the man who provides the raw material for my entire operation. But I think this is a point for me. A win for my side. Wouldn't you agree?"
He groaned, not speaking.
"So here's my holiday gift to you, Nick," I went on. "I'll close my eyes. I know how fast you can move, since you make it to every house in one night. You get the hell out of mine, and keep me on the naughty list - but off the list for your next little play team. Understand?"
I lifted my head, closed my eyes, prayed that I hadn't made my last mistake.
I didn't hear anything, didn't feel anything - especially not a blade cutting into my flesh, a round from a Desert Eagle chewing up my organs.
I opened my eyes.
There was nothing on the carpet in front of me but a melting pile of snow. A couple lumps of coal lay in it, along with a snapped carrot.
I finally let out the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. We'd made it. I could let out Alisha, celebrate with my family.
But first, I had to make a call.
"It's Frost," I said, once the man at the other end of the line picked up. "Santa Team Six is neutralized. Thanks for the heads up."
"Did you kill him?"
"It would have made things easier, you know," I sighed. "But no. Your boss gets to live, although he'll be trapped in the bathroom for most of the next few days."
Silence. Finally, "Merry Christmas, Frost."
"Happy holidays, you twisted little elf." I knew he hated being called by that - claimed it denigrated his whole species - but I hung up before he could answer.
I had to clean up - but my eyes fell on something sitting near the hearth, where he'd dropped it as he drew his weapon.
I opened it up, looked inside, felt my spirits rise.
"Alisha! Julie! Alex! Come out and look what presents Santa brought for you!" | “It’s been about 20 years I’ve been running this operation and every person has questioned me every step of the way. I’m proving them wrong now. I’m a freaking millionaire, and it’s all thanks to being naughty. I remember the first time a received coal for Christmas. My parents were even confused, because even though they knew I was a little shit, they just didn’t have the heart to not get me any presents. They didn’t believe in Santa Clause, so they looked confused when the morning came and every single one of my presents were gone and replaced with big lumps of coal. They called the police and reported a Christmas robbery, but I knew what had happened. Santa was out to punish me. The next year I tried to be good. I really did, but same thing happened that Christmas. My parents were furious at this point, spending all that money and having it stolen from under our tree. After that, I decided to spite the fat ass and continue to be a living nightmare. Christmas wasn’t even celebrated in my house anymore after the third time. My parents just didn’t understand what was happening.
I gathered up all of the bullies and assholes in my neighborhood and we collectively started saving our lumps of coal. By the time I was 17 I reached more and more asshole kids through the internet and we all got together, took our knowledge from chemistry and the internet and started converting it to diamonds. My business grew and grew. Now I’m practically the mafia. So, imagine my surprise when I received this note from the fat ass himself.”
“I don’t know what note you’re talking about boss. I swear.” Frank trembled in-between the arms of my two barrel-chested bodyguards.
“Oh. You don’t?” I asked, twirling my 5 carat diamond ring around my finger. “Well, here how about I read it to you Frank.”
“Boss...” he begged.
“Tony, you made the wrong list. Signed, Santa Team Six”
“I don’t even know what that means boss.”
“Santa Team Six.” I giggle and stand up from the desk still twirling my ring. “The only way the big man could have found out about our operation is through someone on the inside.”
“What makes you think I’m the rat boss? I have a family. I have kids. Why would I be the rat?”
“You tell me Frank.”
“I bet someone else is just playing a joke on you. Santa Team Six boss? That sounds fake.
“A joke? You think it’s funny do you Frank?” I sigh and stand in front of the small balding man in a cheap suit. “Frank, someone has to pay for ratting me out. Someone has to.”
“Boss please. Please! It wasn’t me.”
“Deal with this.” I wave my hand towards the door. The two large men drag Frank through the door as he begs and a shot rings from the lounge area.
“They’ll be here any minute boss. We have to get out of here.” Anthony says.
“I’m not going to run away Anthony. If the fat man wants to talk we can talk. They won’t ever make it through the gates.”
I was wrong though. The guards were already down and the team was already in the building. They kick down my office door and spray the room with fully automatic weapons. I manage to hide behind my desk near my pistol. It wont save me from them all but if they’re going to take me down I’m going to take one of them down with me. Before I can get it loaded four of the little bastards jump up on my desk dressed in snow camo with large deployment patches on their arms.
“Tony, it’s time for your last lump of coal!” one yells at me and points his weapon in my face. BAM.
“North Pole, this is Santa Team Six, Target eliminated.”
“Roger, target eliminated.” | |
[WP] Every year you convert the coal Santa brings you into diamonds to fund your criminal syndicate. This year you only get a note that says, "You made the wrong list - Santa Team Six" | ‘Twas the night before Christmas
I was going through the mail
A winter storm brewed
I feared there would be hail
I laid eyes upon a letter
Addressed to me
It was from St. Nick
But this was not his typical delivery
This was not
A package of coal
He had not come down the chimney
To deliver this note
It simply said that I had made the “wrong list”
And then I saw the words “Santa Team Six”
I paced and pondered as I tried to figure out
Just what the fuck this Santa Team Six shit was about
Then I looked outside and saw that the snow was red
I looked closer and noticed two of my henchmen lay dead!
I radioed my other men in the wake of this violence
But all I heard back was the sound of silence
I ran straight to my armory in a flash
It was time to go through my weapons stash
I grabbed two small uzis and I grabbed my knife
I refused to fall victim to the reaper’s scythe
My business and I won’t die tonight
I am not going down without a fight
I heard the crashing of glass
And treading about
And decided it was time
To snuff these motherfuckers out
I exited the armory and before my eyes appeared
A team of little men in red and green military gear
Armed with assault rifles
They sprung in a hurry
As I unleashed a spray
Of gunfire with fury
I killed them all except for three
That’s when they shot me in both knees
I couldn’t move and I thought I was dead
And then I heard a voice that said,
“Let this bastard suffer and bleed
On this blessed Christmas Eve
Please, go; leave this scene
And leave this stain on the Earth to me.”
The figure was dressed all in red
In military gear from toe to head
He took my guns and revealed his visage
And to my horror it was Santa Claus
I felt the steel on my forehead from his gun
He said, “Did you really think that you had won?”
“Did you really think you had me fooled?
I am always watching you
I’ve given you too many chances to change
To allow the coal alone to serve as a source of shame
But using it to fund crime as a way to live
That’s something that would even be tough for Jesus to forgive
But on this holy Christmas night
It would be wrong for me to take a defenseless life
Despite all of the blood you have shed
I will not shoot a defenseless man in the head
But to take you away from your business and massive wealth
You will live out your days as an Elf on the Shelf”
So now I sit frozen in time
And I sometimes miss my life of crime
But whenever I think back to that fateful night
I remember how Santa (sort of) spared my life
EDITS: A few. | “It’s been about 20 years I’ve been running this operation and every person has questioned me every step of the way. I’m proving them wrong now. I’m a freaking millionaire, and it’s all thanks to being naughty. I remember the first time a received coal for Christmas. My parents were even confused, because even though they knew I was a little shit, they just didn’t have the heart to not get me any presents. They didn’t believe in Santa Clause, so they looked confused when the morning came and every single one of my presents were gone and replaced with big lumps of coal. They called the police and reported a Christmas robbery, but I knew what had happened. Santa was out to punish me. The next year I tried to be good. I really did, but same thing happened that Christmas. My parents were furious at this point, spending all that money and having it stolen from under our tree. After that, I decided to spite the fat ass and continue to be a living nightmare. Christmas wasn’t even celebrated in my house anymore after the third time. My parents just didn’t understand what was happening.
I gathered up all of the bullies and assholes in my neighborhood and we collectively started saving our lumps of coal. By the time I was 17 I reached more and more asshole kids through the internet and we all got together, took our knowledge from chemistry and the internet and started converting it to diamonds. My business grew and grew. Now I’m practically the mafia. So, imagine my surprise when I received this note from the fat ass himself.”
“I don’t know what note you’re talking about boss. I swear.” Frank trembled in-between the arms of my two barrel-chested bodyguards.
“Oh. You don’t?” I asked, twirling my 5 carat diamond ring around my finger. “Well, here how about I read it to you Frank.”
“Boss...” he begged.
“Tony, you made the wrong list. Signed, Santa Team Six”
“I don’t even know what that means boss.”
“Santa Team Six.” I giggle and stand up from the desk still twirling my ring. “The only way the big man could have found out about our operation is through someone on the inside.”
“What makes you think I’m the rat boss? I have a family. I have kids. Why would I be the rat?”
“You tell me Frank.”
“I bet someone else is just playing a joke on you. Santa Team Six boss? That sounds fake.
“A joke? You think it’s funny do you Frank?” I sigh and stand in front of the small balding man in a cheap suit. “Frank, someone has to pay for ratting me out. Someone has to.”
“Boss please. Please! It wasn’t me.”
“Deal with this.” I wave my hand towards the door. The two large men drag Frank through the door as he begs and a shot rings from the lounge area.
“They’ll be here any minute boss. We have to get out of here.” Anthony says.
“I’m not going to run away Anthony. If the fat man wants to talk we can talk. They won’t ever make it through the gates.”
I was wrong though. The guards were already down and the team was already in the building. They kick down my office door and spray the room with fully automatic weapons. I manage to hide behind my desk near my pistol. It wont save me from them all but if they’re going to take me down I’m going to take one of them down with me. Before I can get it loaded four of the little bastards jump up on my desk dressed in snow camo with large deployment patches on their arms.
“Tony, it’s time for your last lump of coal!” one yells at me and points his weapon in my face. BAM.
“North Pole, this is Santa Team Six, Target eliminated.”
“Roger, target eliminated.” | |
[WP] Every year you convert the coal Santa brings you into diamonds to fund your criminal syndicate. This year you only get a note that says, "You made the wrong list - Santa Team Six" | *"I would like to make a toast!"*
Tony Marletti stood up on his chair beaming. For today was the best day of the year, today was Christmas! Or as Tony liked to call it, "Payday".
Every year on Christmas Tony gathered all the associates of his international crime syndicate, "Alternate Energy."
*"I would like to make a toast!"*
Tony raised his 250 year old scotch high. He looked down the long table in front of him, at all the people waiting for their coal.
*"I would like to make a toast! To that old fat bastard up north!"*
Cheers as the whole room shakes with laughter.
There was not a group of people on Earth that loved Santa more than Alternate Energy. For years Santa has been the groups primary income. Although human trafficking keeps close second.
Twenty Years ago, Tony, was interrogating scientist, to learn the secret to turn coal into diamonds. When he finally forced the formula out, he studied and waited for Christmas . And, As expected on Christmas morning, Tony had received a fat deposit of coal in his stocking. It only took a day for Tony to turn that 20 pounds of coal into diamonds.
The same stocking hung behind tony, alongside 30 others. One for each of his associates. All of them had been reinforced to hold all the cold the deserved.
*"I would like to make a toast! To that old fat bastard up north! To The Worlds Greatest Con!"*
The group could barley contain their excitement as they ditched their feast, and raced to their stockings.
The excitement turned to confusion, as they all reached into empty stockings.
Tony looked around trying to contemplate what was happening.
Alternative Energy turned to their boss in silence.
Tony walked towards his stocking, afraid of what he would find inside.
When he stuck his hand in he pulled out a piece of paper.On it printed in festive green cursive,
" You made the wrong list - Santa Team Six"
All the lights in the room go out.
In the darkness Tony hears thumps all around him, followed by a hundred tiny jingle bells hurrying away from him.
Tony froze in fear.
*"I might be old."*
A deep voice rumbled behind Tony
*"I might be a bastard."*
Tony felt the jolly breath on his neck."
*"But, no one, no one calls me fat!"*
A final thud.
| “It’s been about 20 years I’ve been running this operation and every person has questioned me every step of the way. I’m proving them wrong now. I’m a freaking millionaire, and it’s all thanks to being naughty. I remember the first time a received coal for Christmas. My parents were even confused, because even though they knew I was a little shit, they just didn’t have the heart to not get me any presents. They didn’t believe in Santa Clause, so they looked confused when the morning came and every single one of my presents were gone and replaced with big lumps of coal. They called the police and reported a Christmas robbery, but I knew what had happened. Santa was out to punish me. The next year I tried to be good. I really did, but same thing happened that Christmas. My parents were furious at this point, spending all that money and having it stolen from under our tree. After that, I decided to spite the fat ass and continue to be a living nightmare. Christmas wasn’t even celebrated in my house anymore after the third time. My parents just didn’t understand what was happening.
I gathered up all of the bullies and assholes in my neighborhood and we collectively started saving our lumps of coal. By the time I was 17 I reached more and more asshole kids through the internet and we all got together, took our knowledge from chemistry and the internet and started converting it to diamonds. My business grew and grew. Now I’m practically the mafia. So, imagine my surprise when I received this note from the fat ass himself.”
“I don’t know what note you’re talking about boss. I swear.” Frank trembled in-between the arms of my two barrel-chested bodyguards.
“Oh. You don’t?” I asked, twirling my 5 carat diamond ring around my finger. “Well, here how about I read it to you Frank.”
“Boss...” he begged.
“Tony, you made the wrong list. Signed, Santa Team Six”
“I don’t even know what that means boss.”
“Santa Team Six.” I giggle and stand up from the desk still twirling my ring. “The only way the big man could have found out about our operation is through someone on the inside.”
“What makes you think I’m the rat boss? I have a family. I have kids. Why would I be the rat?”
“You tell me Frank.”
“I bet someone else is just playing a joke on you. Santa Team Six boss? That sounds fake.
“A joke? You think it’s funny do you Frank?” I sigh and stand in front of the small balding man in a cheap suit. “Frank, someone has to pay for ratting me out. Someone has to.”
“Boss please. Please! It wasn’t me.”
“Deal with this.” I wave my hand towards the door. The two large men drag Frank through the door as he begs and a shot rings from the lounge area.
“They’ll be here any minute boss. We have to get out of here.” Anthony says.
“I’m not going to run away Anthony. If the fat man wants to talk we can talk. They won’t ever make it through the gates.”
I was wrong though. The guards were already down and the team was already in the building. They kick down my office door and spray the room with fully automatic weapons. I manage to hide behind my desk near my pistol. It wont save me from them all but if they’re going to take me down I’m going to take one of them down with me. Before I can get it loaded four of the little bastards jump up on my desk dressed in snow camo with large deployment patches on their arms.
“Tony, it’s time for your last lump of coal!” one yells at me and points his weapon in my face. BAM.
“North Pole, this is Santa Team Six, Target eliminated.”
“Roger, target eliminated.” | |
[WP] Every year you convert the coal Santa brings you into diamonds to fund your criminal syndicate. This year you only get a note that says, "You made the wrong list - Santa Team Six" | *"I would like to make a toast!"*
Tony Marletti stood up on his chair beaming. For today was the best day of the year, today was Christmas! Or as Tony liked to call it, "Payday".
Every year on Christmas Tony gathered all the associates of his international crime syndicate, "Alternate Energy."
*"I would like to make a toast!"*
Tony raised his 250 year old scotch high. He looked down the long table in front of him, at all the people waiting for their coal.
*"I would like to make a toast! To that old fat bastard up north!"*
Cheers as the whole room shakes with laughter.
There was not a group of people on Earth that loved Santa more than Alternate Energy. For years Santa has been the groups primary income. Although human trafficking keeps close second.
Twenty Years ago, Tony, was interrogating scientist, to learn the secret to turn coal into diamonds. When he finally forced the formula out, he studied and waited for Christmas . And, As expected on Christmas morning, Tony had received a fat deposit of coal in his stocking. It only took a day for Tony to turn that 20 pounds of coal into diamonds.
The same stocking hung behind tony, alongside 30 others. One for each of his associates. All of them had been reinforced to hold all the cold the deserved.
*"I would like to make a toast! To that old fat bastard up north! To The Worlds Greatest Con!"*
The group could barley contain their excitement as they ditched their feast, and raced to their stockings.
The excitement turned to confusion, as they all reached into empty stockings.
Tony looked around trying to contemplate what was happening.
Alternative Energy turned to their boss in silence.
Tony walked towards his stocking, afraid of what he would find inside.
When he stuck his hand in he pulled out a piece of paper.On it printed in festive green cursive,
" You made the wrong list - Santa Team Six"
All the lights in the room go out.
In the darkness Tony hears thumps all around him, followed by a hundred tiny jingle bells hurrying away from him.
Tony froze in fear.
*"I might be old."*
A deep voice rumbled behind Tony
*"I might be a bastard."*
Tony felt the jolly breath on his neck."
*"But, no one, no one calls me fat!"*
A final thud.
| ‘Twas the night before Christmas
I was going through the mail
A winter storm brewed
I feared there would be hail
I laid eyes upon a letter
Addressed to me
It was from St. Nick
But this was not his typical delivery
This was not
A package of coal
He had not come down the chimney
To deliver this note
It simply said that I had made the “wrong list”
And then I saw the words “Santa Team Six”
I paced and pondered as I tried to figure out
Just what the fuck this Santa Team Six shit was about
Then I looked outside and saw that the snow was red
I looked closer and noticed two of my henchmen lay dead!
I radioed my other men in the wake of this violence
But all I heard back was the sound of silence
I ran straight to my armory in a flash
It was time to go through my weapons stash
I grabbed two small uzis and I grabbed my knife
I refused to fall victim to the reaper’s scythe
My business and I won’t die tonight
I am not going down without a fight
I heard the crashing of glass
And treading about
And decided it was time
To snuff these motherfuckers out
I exited the armory and before my eyes appeared
A team of little men in red and green military gear
Armed with assault rifles
They sprung in a hurry
As I unleashed a spray
Of gunfire with fury
I killed them all except for three
That’s when they shot me in both knees
I couldn’t move and I thought I was dead
And then I heard a voice that said,
“Let this bastard suffer and bleed
On this blessed Christmas Eve
Please, go; leave this scene
And leave this stain on the Earth to me.”
The figure was dressed all in red
In military gear from toe to head
He took my guns and revealed his visage
And to my horror it was Santa Claus
I felt the steel on my forehead from his gun
He said, “Did you really think that you had won?”
“Did you really think you had me fooled?
I am always watching you
I’ve given you too many chances to change
To allow the coal alone to serve as a source of shame
But using it to fund crime as a way to live
That’s something that would even be tough for Jesus to forgive
But on this holy Christmas night
It would be wrong for me to take a defenseless life
Despite all of the blood you have shed
I will not shoot a defenseless man in the head
But to take you away from your business and massive wealth
You will live out your days as an Elf on the Shelf”
So now I sit frozen in time
And I sometimes miss my life of crime
But whenever I think back to that fateful night
I remember how Santa (sort of) spared my life
EDITS: A few. | |
[WP] Every year you convert the coal Santa brings you into diamonds to fund your criminal syndicate. This year you only get a note that says, "You made the wrong list - Santa Team Six" | *"I would like to make a toast!"*
Tony Marletti stood up on his chair beaming. For today was the best day of the year, today was Christmas! Or as Tony liked to call it, "Payday".
Every year on Christmas Tony gathered all the associates of his international crime syndicate, "Alternate Energy."
*"I would like to make a toast!"*
Tony raised his 250 year old scotch high. He looked down the long table in front of him, at all the people waiting for their coal.
*"I would like to make a toast! To that old fat bastard up north!"*
Cheers as the whole room shakes with laughter.
There was not a group of people on Earth that loved Santa more than Alternate Energy. For years Santa has been the groups primary income. Although human trafficking keeps close second.
Twenty Years ago, Tony, was interrogating scientist, to learn the secret to turn coal into diamonds. When he finally forced the formula out, he studied and waited for Christmas . And, As expected on Christmas morning, Tony had received a fat deposit of coal in his stocking. It only took a day for Tony to turn that 20 pounds of coal into diamonds.
The same stocking hung behind tony, alongside 30 others. One for each of his associates. All of them had been reinforced to hold all the cold the deserved.
*"I would like to make a toast! To that old fat bastard up north! To The Worlds Greatest Con!"*
The group could barley contain their excitement as they ditched their feast, and raced to their stockings.
The excitement turned to confusion, as they all reached into empty stockings.
Tony looked around trying to contemplate what was happening.
Alternative Energy turned to their boss in silence.
Tony walked towards his stocking, afraid of what he would find inside.
When he stuck his hand in he pulled out a piece of paper.On it printed in festive green cursive,
" You made the wrong list - Santa Team Six"
All the lights in the room go out.
In the darkness Tony hears thumps all around him, followed by a hundred tiny jingle bells hurrying away from him.
Tony froze in fear.
*"I might be old."*
A deep voice rumbled behind Tony
*"I might be a bastard."*
Tony felt the jolly breath on his neck."
*"But, no one, no one calls me fat!"*
A final thud.
| *INT. FIREPLACE, HOUSE - NIGHT*
SANTA: What've you been doing with it?
BOSS: Providing the world a much needed service.
SANTA: Its wrong! And to think you've been using my resources for your little 'crime syndicate'!
BOSS: Crime syndicates don't need funding...
SANTA: Shut up! Do you even...GOD! I'm giving you 10 days to put an end to all this!
BOSS: You know I can't do that.
SANTA: Shut up and listen. 10 days! Sleep on it.
*Santa leaves. The boss, dressed in a black suit, sits in his chair with a glass of scotch in his hand and thinks about it.
He realizes that this might get out of hand. He takes out his phone and makes a few calls*
*Few days later*
*A beautiful woman in her robe walks up to the boss, kisses him on cheek and hands him a letter*
BOSS: What's this?
GF: I don't know, I found it under our door.
*He opens up the letter and it says "You made the wrong list - Santa Team 6"*
*Panicked, he fumbles for his phone*
BOSS: Babe you need to get out of here!
GF: What? What happened?
BOSS: GET THE FUCK OUT! RIGHT FUCKING NOW!
*She runs away. Call connects.*
BOSS: How soon? ....Good....Alright.
*Hangs up*
*Suddenly, he feels the cold touch of metal to the back of his head followed by a click. He realizes what it is and puts his hands slowly up*
KILLER1: Slowly now...Dont make me gift you lead. On your knees, hands on the back of your head.
*He does as instructed. From the other side of the room another man dressed in a red suit drags in his girlfriend*
KILLER2: We don't share the good nature of the santa you're familiar with. I will not hesitate. Am I clear?
*He nods*
KILLER1: Sit down girl! We're here to negotiate! Don't worry about us sweetie.
*He hands him a phone*
KILLER1: Call it off.
BOSS: No.
*Killer2 cocks the hammer back of the gun that he is pointing at the girl*
KILLER1: You're in no position to argue, friend.
*The boss looks at the doors for a brief moment*
KILLER1: No point buddy, I've got two men in the front and the back. You call it off or you two leave in buckets.
*Two men in red suits are standing guard near the front and back doors with sub-machine guns*
BOSS: I won't give in. You know that.
*Killer1 nods at killer2. Giving him the signal*
GF: No! Noooo! Please! Give him what he wants! Pleeease! *sobbing* please..
KILLER1: Last chance..
BOSS:
KILLER1: Alright then.
GF: NO! WAIT, I CA.. *fires shot*
*He does not shed a tear.*
BOSS: I'll make you pay. You know that, right? The whole lot of you! You! Your children! Your children's friends!
I'LL BURN THEM ALL AND MAKE YOU WATCH AS I DESTROY YOUR WORLD ONE LOVED ONE AT A TIME!
*Killer1 pistol whips him. He falls on the floor groaning in pain. Killer1 holsters his weapon and takes out a knife*
Killer1: I'm gonna enjoy this! Hey, close the fucking windows please. Its gonna get ugly.
*As killer2 gets to the window, the glass shatters and he falls to the floor. The shot is heard a split second later. This moment is all he needed. He tries to tackle killer1 to the grond from his knees. Killer1 stabs him in his shoulderblade. Once tackled, he reaches for his gun and points it at the door where 2 gunman try to get in through the back door. He shoots them both, they fall to the ground and he shoots them again to ensure that they are dead. Killer1 won't give up, he places him in a armlock forcing him to release the gun. Fistfight ensues.
The 2 gunmen near the front door are alarmed and move to open the front door . Two more shots are heard as both of them fall to the ground. Men in black suits quickly move in. Soon, killer1 has submachine guns pointed at his face. He gives up*
BOSS: *struggling to stand upright with to a knife stuck in his shoulder blade, he looks at one of his henchmen* Give me a gun.
*His henchman hands him a pistol. He takes the pistol and fires 4 rounds. 1 for each kneecap and 1 for each elbow. Killer1 is slithering around the floor screaming due to unmeasurable pain!*
BOSS: You'll bleed out in an hour or so. You should be thanking me, I could do a lot worse!
*He turns around to his henchmen and returns the gun*
HENCHMAN: What now, sir?
BOSS: We kill them all! All the Santas!
(To be contd.)
(EDIT: Grammar) | |
[WP] You love fighting this villian. Because even thought he has immense powers he's quite fun to actually battle, quite chill when you thwart his plans, and a bit incompetent when it comes to villiany. The problem is that now his mother is here. | The local university was holding a 'Christmas singles' party. Men and women gathered in the main room dressed thier finest in hopes of ridding the haunting face of the 'Forever Alone' meme.
"Starbright, you have a call." The earpiece of the young woman screeched abruptly. An interjection escaped her lips as a bit of champagne spilled over the rim of her glass onto the floor. Her friend grabbed her upper arm in an attempt to keep her from falling.
"What is wrong with you; how many have you had?" Her friend asked with concern.
"Just this one," She handed the glass to her friend double talking, "I have the night off from work, and I'm not leaving this party without a date. Why don't we try talking to someone?" Her friend nodded in agreement, but the older man in the earpiece wasn't,
"Starbright, there is no such thing as a 'Night off'. Now head on over to Downy and Cedar." The girl huffed, then her voice went weak.
"I think I’m going to be sick. I need some air, I'll be right back." She bolted for the doors. Once outside, her posture straightened as her heels clinked along the pavement.
"Alright, I spent hours shopping for this perfect outfit to find the perfect guy only to once again end up with you. *sigh* Tell me who it is."
"You will always have me, Darling. Now, your opponent will be Inventanator." Her face perked up.
"That's great! I wont have to change, just need to wear my mask!" She created a light disk, hopping on and riding through the night sky to Downy and Cedar.
Inventanator was a relativily new villian-ish. Ish because he is always building something totally not in good taste only to never actually work right. Machine ment to create a tornado, or killer robots, or turn things tiny- Never happens. Instead monologue, button press, fail, then he escapes and Starbright confiscate the bigbad machine.
Starbright holds her dress down as she zooms across, looking down Downy street to see Inventanator stand at the intersection driving with what looked to be an RC car.
Inventanator could see the glow of Starbright's disk.
"Ah ha! I see you have finally come to stop me, Starbright. But not this time, I Inventa-!"
"No!" She shouted coming closer.
"No?!" Inventanator responded confused, "Starbright, you are suppose to let me finish first-"
"Not tonight." She cut him off again, landing about 12 feet away. "Honestly, you usually give me a good laugh, which is stress relieving in my line of work. And I appreciate that when you fail you just walk away instead of clinging to killing me in the moment, but tonight is the one night I don't want to deal with being a superhero."
Inventanator stared, blinking slowly and saying nothing.
"Inventanator... So can you call it a night?" Starbright put one hand on her hip.
"Yeah..." He said dejectedly. Dropping the controller, "Go back to the party, I'll clean up."
An over joyous "Thank you" poured from Starbright, as a heated shrill screamed "No!" From behind Inventanator.
A woman in her late fourties, dressed like a typical suburbian mom entered from the shadows.
"You are going to stick to the plan, young man!"
"Your Mother?" Starbright tried her best to hide her grin.
Inventanator shifted side-to-side, agony sweeping his face. "Mom." He whispered annoyed.
"This has gone long enough, no need to be ashamed, you are just like your father," She patted his back before her eyes focussed on Starbright, "Now you are going to listen to the end because this is the last time." Starbright nodded like a child being scolded, unsure why she was agreeing. "Now tell her, see you at home." And his mother began walking away.
Inventanator balled his fists, shaking. His face turning red. Starbright put her hands up defensively, unknow how he would explode.
Inventanator took a deep breath,
"You're beautiful!" He shouted breathy.
"What?" She replied disorently.
"Don't talk, this is my monologue and I said you are beautiful." His fists relaxed.
"I wasn't expecting for you to arrive in heels and a dress, but no matter what you wear, even your suit, you look beautiful. I call you out so late to get the perfect view of your skin looking pale from the moonlight, and your lips dry from breeze rushing your way here. The first time I met you, you helped a little kid find his parents. You didn't use your powers, or wear a disguise. I couldn't help myself being intrigued by your soft heart. I tried to find information on you, but couldn't. And I gave up, but as fate would have it we ended up having a class together. I befriended you, and got to learn more about the amazing person you are inside. We would study with everyone, but you always snuck off. It wasn't until two months ago, when we were the last in the Library, that I found out you were Starbright. You tiredly slipped you were stressing about the villians at work. And since then I have been planning encounters for you to take it easy..." He reached behind his head unbuckling his helmet, removing it. "I over heard you talking about the Christmas Party. I called you tonight to see you fly over across the sky like my own personal shooting star to make a wish. Will you go out with me Rose?" He stood there, his legs shaking slightly.
"Jake?" She finally spitted out coming closer.
"You. Are. An. Idiot!" His face dropped. She continued stepping closer. "Why didn't you just tell me? Why go to the trouble of labeling your self a villian. It would have been a lot easier to just come out with it then make all these contraptions."
He stepped in, closing the gap between them and planting a hurridly kiss on her lips. She slapped him, stepping back, and pioting away from him.
"That was stupid Jake. This is all stupid."
Jake stared at her back, and even now couldn't help his feelings. She created another light disk. Stepping on, she looked over her shoulder at him.
"See you in class, you better have a date planned. Goodbye Inventanator."
Though her mask was on, Jake thought he could see a brighter hue underneath, before her silhouette was encased around moon beams.
Jake's mom reappeared at his side,
"Told you being a 'villian' would intrigue a girl like her." His mother wrapped her arm around his back, patting it. "Let's go home, son." Jake picked up the RC car and controller, walking away with his mother.
In the air, Starbright reported.
"Inventanator has been defeated, on my way back." The older man's tone took on amusement;
"Rose, that sounded an awful like he defeated *you*. But he still needs to get through me."
"Oh- shut up, Dad."
(Edit: on my phone, looked like wall of text) | Pencil-sharpener Man had put me through some real goose-chases over the years. One of the first time I faced him was when he had robbed a bank. At first I thought the commissioner was joking when he called me up to tell me someone had stolen all the pencils from a bank, but left the money. When I found the young new villain, he was back at his high-school giving out the pencils to his classmates before a test. Somehow nobody had made the connection between the kid that always had extra pencils and the kid that was robbing banks of their pencils. I figured I owed it to him (as a fellow caped crusader) to leave his identity a secret. He seemed like a nice guy.
I couldn't have figured how someone who called himself pencil-sharpener man could have become a villain, but that was before he went all serial killer. It had been in all the papers a couple months back: "Cops Draw Line Between Serial Murders and Local Pencil-Pusher". After that a few other heroes and I found the guy's secret hideout and had a pretty intense battle with him.
"Look's like you're late for the test", he would say, darting around the room, throwing pencils at us, pinning us against the wall by our capes. I remember Mime Girl almost caught him, since she wasn't wearing a cape, but just when she was about to tackle him from behind he jumped out of the way.
"Seems like it's time for... *A RACE!*", he said, and within seconds he was gone, and had left each of us yanking the pencils out of the walls.
When we finally got free though, we realized that his hideout held all his secret plans for super-sharp pencils, and throwing pencils, and titanium pencil sharpeners, and immovable pencils, even some sketches for a shaving-free pencil-sharpener. He had also left a note, in his usual impeccable handwriting:
> If you're reading this, you've foiled my plans once again, fabulous four, and you deserve my congratulations. In respect for your victory I shall retire from villainy until...
> one week before Christmas. While wearing a blouse,
> I'll draw you a picture of a big, haunted house.
> All the best,
> Pencil-Sharpener Man
Trampoline Man, the newest member if our crew, which we now called the fabulous five, took offense to the letter until he received an anonymous note apologizing for the mistake in pencil-sharpener man's usually impeccable handwriting.
We told the police, and nobody else, and waited until today. Today we each got another, similar letter, and as per the new letter's instructions, we went to meet Pencil-Sharpener Man at Mr. Tolstoy's abandoned mansion. Walrus Woman suggested that it might be a trap, but we collectively decided that that wouldn't be pencil-sharpener man's style.
It was a lovely day and the mansion seemed to actually be in quite good shape. Mr. Tolstoy's heir had actually been by just that morning, according to the neighbors, to clean the place up in case a potential buyer came by. It had to be tough to sell such a big house. As we approached the house we noticed some movement inside. There appeared to be a small group of people inside. We decided to split up to investigate
"I tell ya, the place is probably crawling with all the biggest villains", Walrus Woman whispered as we crept around the side, peeking in the windows as we went.
"Oh come on, it's probably just him and a side-kick", I said.
Suddenly the front door opened. We rushed back just in time to see a small, normal-looking family saying thank-you's and goodbye's. They seemed completely unfazed by what had been inside As they got into their car they looked over at us. I gave an awkward smile and wave and they hurried away all the faster.
"What the heck was that?", Question Man asked, to no answer. Suddenly from behind us, we heard a rustling. Right as I turned around there was a flash as though of lightning, and the sprinklers turned on. The door flung open and there stood Pencil-Sharpener Man himself.
"What had the family been doing in the house with Pencil-Sharpener Man? How had they survived? Were they also villains? Also, who's that lady coming around the corner", Question Man narrated.
We all looked around the corner and there was a slightly older lady, maybe late 40's? She stopped and looked back at us. I gave an awkward smile and a wave and she returned with an awkward smile and a wave.
"Wait, where's Mr. Pencil-Sharpener gone??", Walrus Woman asked.
"Mr. Pencil-Sharpener?!?", the woman shrieked. "I'll have you know that young man is responsible for 14 murders, 16 bank robberies, 3 counts of kidnapping, as well as of almost pouring LSD into the town's water supply! He's worked hard and deserves to be called by his true name: Pencil-Sharpener MAN!"
"Oh, umm", Walrus Woman stammered, "so do you know him then?"
"Yes I very much do know him. I've known him all his life. He's my son", she said. Then turning to the house she shouted, "and he'd sure better get out here quick and cream these caped weirdos".
The sprinklers turned off and there was silence.
"Does he usually have trouble coming out?", Walrus Woman asked.
"Oh no", the lady said, still looking at the house, "he's been very open about his sexuality for years. We're a very liberal household."
The five of us made awkward eye contact, but said nothing. The woman whom we now assumed to be the mother of our arch-nemesis was too focused on the house to pay us any attention. Suddenly she had begun storming her way into the house.
"Do you figure we should go in after her, or..." Trampoline man asked.
Mime girl shook her head.
We waited and eventually the woman returned again, this time she was jabbering very quickly in Portuguese or something and apparently somewhat angrily at the head of Pencil-Sharpener Man, which she was holding by his ear. He was screaming a bit. It was weird to watch, but at the same time, hard to look away.
"Momma, I'm sorry, I can't do this--", he said when she finally let him go.
"Stevie!", His mom said to him, "my beautiful beautiful stevie! We both know you're not my favorite kid, but seriously, I am so proud of you and your work. I believe in you now, Stevie. I know you can kill these weirdos. They're not even real super-heroes"
"HEY--!", Walrus woman piped up.
"No, mom, you don't get it. I'm not actually a super-villain, and I can't keep pretending I am to try and keep you happy."
His mom's jaw dropped. All of us stared at him, waiting for him to explain.
"Yeah, I know, 'suspected of serial pencil-related murder' and all that. It seriously wasn't me though. When I heard about the guy I knew everyone would think it was me, so I figured I'd have to track the guy down. I've been taking credit for other villain's work for years now. I just sneak in when I hear about it with my police scanner I found in a pawn shop. I take out the real villain, lock them in my dorm, then give them enough drinks that they don't remember exactly what happened, or at least that people won't believe them. Then I get my friend Vance to drive them to his farm and help him do various jobs in return for room and board. Then I run away from the cops and everyone thinks it's me."
"But Stevie, what about being a villain, like your dad?", she asked.
"I don't want to be a villain. That's what got dad arrested, and then I never got to see him, and that sucks for a kid growing up. And for the hundredth time, don't call me that. When I wear the pencil suit, call me Pencil-Sharpener Man!"
His mom looked intensely at him and he looked intensely back at her.
"Fine then. If you don't want to kill these nice people I will", she said, marching toward us.
...
We offered to come visit Stevie's mom in the hospital to say sorry again, but he told us not to bother. Also the cops are looking into the whole using villains as forced manual labor thing because that's actually pretty far from legal, so it turns out he might end up in jail after all, but we're all hoping the jury is lenient because they were terrorists and super-villains, and the farm system actually had pretty good security.
***
Feedback is appreciated! Prompt was cool, thanks! | |
[WP] In the year 2076 the most popular movies are actually recordings of incredible dreams, and the dreamers who are able to dream the most fantastic dreams are rich and elevated in status. You are one of those dreamers, but suddenly your dreams become consistently boring... | Sadie was having the kind of morning that left her groggily staring at the office coffee pot, trying to remember if she had already had one or two cups this morning. One cup, two cups… if she was still this out of it, what did it matter? Plus once she told her agent about her dream last night, she was surely going to be let go. And then she’d never have the opportunity to taste this shitty free coffee again. Better take advantage while she could.
No sooner had Sadie swallowed the first sip of coffee than her agent walked into the kitchen.
“Sadie! Tell me you have some good news for me,” Jay said, entirely too cheery for this early in the work day.
“Well,” Sadie began. “Not exactly.”
Jay’s over-whitened teeth disappeared as his smile abandoned his face in favor of a stern, straight line.
“Not exactly,” he repeated slowly . It wasn’t clear if this was for his benefit or for her embarrassment. “I get the feeling that means ‘No.’ Come by my office before the 9:30 Writer’s meeting.”
“Of course. I’ll just finish this and head right over.”
Jay didn’t even offer a fake “Great!” Just a single, solemn nod before leaving the kitchen. Sadie thought caffeine was the only cure for her mental fog, but it turns out that setting up a meeting to discuss your failures with an unhappy boss is way more efficient.
A half hour later, Sadie found a better, more permanent, solution for morning grogginess at work: Stop working in the morning. Or, in her case, stop going to work completely. For one thing, this would allow her to avoid the situation entirely. For another, Jay was very clear that any attempt to get into any agency property would result in armed bodyguards escorting her out, since she was no longer a client of the J&D Agency.
That was the worst day of Sadie’s life. But over the course of the next five years, that superlative was awarded to days much darker.
For a while Firing Day held the title tightly. Then came the day she had to sell all but one car in order to keep her house. After that, Firing Day moved further and further down the list of what Judith Viorst would easily classify as Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad days.
There was the first birthday that her Dreamer “friends” decided Sadie was beneath them. Not one of them called or texted her to wish her a happy birthday. None deemed her worthy of having her party invite merely acknowledged, evident when they left the RSVP unanswered rather than sending a courteous decline. Although, one of them did have her assistant call to say that Marcy would not be able to attend, and would Sadie mail back the dress she had borrowed for last year’s Academy Awards? So thoughtful.
There was the day the temp agency warned that without a college degree, the work she qualified for wouldn’t bring in much money. The worst part was realizing that while she spent her days blowing the money earned in her sleep, she never considered there might come a time when she needed to be more than a dream machine. And now that that time had come, she didn’t have a single marketable skill.
There was the day she had to move out of her big, luxurious house and into a small apartment with cracking paint and broken windows. There was the day her first temp job decided not to extend her contract. The day that her car got wrecked, effectively limiting her transportation options to public or physical. The day she stopped dreaming completely. And of course, the day she stared at the 3 pack of ramen in her pantry, wondering how to make that last a week. That was the official Worst Day.
The funny thing about the official Worst Day, was that it was so exceptionally awful that it forced Sadie to decide. Did she want to find out what kind of day it would take to make this one tumble down to second place? She was doing nearly everything she could to get back to a stable place. But if she didn’t find another way, she *would* find out how much worse her situation could get. And she was sick of bad days, and terrible days, and fuck. She was tired of documenting all the times she thought to herself *Surely, it cannot get worse than this.* just to have to update the list a week later.
No. Enough was enough.
Sadie quit one of her three jobs. That time was reserved for night classes now. She moved into a shoebox apartment that made the old one with the cracked paint seem like a five star hotel. If she wanted to permanently leave this life behind, she’d need money. Every cent she saved on rent went right into her new savings account. An account she promised not to touch, even if that meant eating only rice for weeks straight.
Slowly, the bad days became outnumbered by okay days. And Sadie could not be stopped. She had watched her life burn down to unrecognizable ashes. The fire that taken everything from her, sparked another in her heart.
7 years later, Sadie recounted the official Worst Day to the group of eager listeners gathered at the local bookshop. She could feel their captivation growing as she continued reading the excerpt. Her memoir had reached #5 on the NY Best Sellers list, and her publisher anticipated that her second novel would debut at least that high.
As Sadie finished the excerpt and opened the floor for Q&A, an odd feeling settled over her. It felt foreign but warm, like a high school friend you haven’t seen since you graduated. She didn’t dwell on it, but it lingered throughout the session. The questions were beginning to die down, and the clock on the back wall said she had gone 15 minutes over the allotted time.
“Any last questions?” Sadie asked the group. No hands raised at first. But then a young man in the front row timidly raised his.
“Yes, you sir?” She prompted the reader.
“You talk a lot about the Worst Days in your book… Do you have a Best Day?” The man asked. So earnest and simple. Yet, all Sadie had was silence.
Her audience began trading glances amongst themselves, and someone in the back cleared their throat loudly.
“I’m sorry,” Sadie began, with tears in her eyes. “I just… It just hit me that *this* is my Best Day.”
WOOOP WOOOP WOOOP WOOOP
Suddenly, an alarm angrily sounded throughout the bookstore.
WOOOP WOOOP WOOOP WOOOP
Sadie looked around trying to determine where it was coming from, but no one else had so much as moved a muscle.
WOOOP WOOOP WOOOP WOOOP
It almost sounded like… her alarm. Sadie’s eyes flew open as she finally placed the sound. She pulled her phone out from under her pillow, tapping the “Stop” button reflexively. A few texts waited onscreen for her attention but those would have to wait. A few taps later and she was greeted by Jay’s voice.
“Sadie! My favorite Dreamer. What’s got you calling so early?” Jay greeted her.
“Jay, you’ll never believe the dream I had. I think it’s our next blockbuster…”
| I was on the first wave of the tech, barely. I came in when the playback machines had proven I/O and before time compression became the hit it is today. The recording tech had been in operation for ages, but it was all academic. Now it was just starting to pick up big-money sponsors. Just starting to look for talent. Just starting to really cash in.
The dream market has never been as easy as it was right then. Early on, you could be *anything* that stood out and you’d start getting attention. You just had to have any kind of theme. There are dreams everyone has. Anything that made you stand out from those did the trick. For instance, nobody loves the old academic anxiety dream, but the dreamer who had little else eventually started mining value out of little variations. He started remixing his dreams. He eventually made a "perfect" academic anxiety dream from bits and pieces of dreams that nobody ever wanted to pay him for. That was the one that really got him into the business. It was infamous, really. People bought it *once* at the dream-gallery and then they had it *every night* a week after. I hear he's still doing academic nightmares. He's dredged up half a dozen proteges from people with the right anxieties looping around in their subconscious, but none of them are showing any signs of breaking out of his shadow. Only so much market for academic nightmares, and too many people already generating their own content. That theme is getting played out.
Lot of themes are.
For a while, I thought I'd be immune. My theme wasn't about the content. I dream of all sorts of things. Great strange cities, alien invasions, military operations, mountain-climbing, forest hiking, even visions of Heaven and Hell, which sell well and would sell better if they weren't banned everywhere but Luna and Latvia. Not that it stops people from seeing them everywhere, but I don't see a penny where there's not a legal market.
My real specialty - my real theme - is length. My dreams feel like they take a long time start to finish. Their pacing is actually pretty slow for the content that sometimes ends up in them. I talk to the "people" in my dreams. We have conversations. We take long walks with rifles in our hands. We cut the chatter approaching the mission zone, we stalk through the brush, we get the drop on our first target, someone spots us, and then we've got hostiles on our flank and no way forward that doesn't involve charging someone with eyes on our position and a gun in their hands, too. Then we're three corpses into an enemy base with half our kit dropped in the ambush, short on ammo and ditching the surface objectives in favor of grenading the lifts and breaking in soft-side to the enemy’s hillside fortifications. Which turn out to be miles of rough-hewn tunnels, and presently clear of hostiles. Time enough for more talking scenes - and traps in the tunnels. There's a huge amount of content produced when I sleep, but sometimes it’s only a few minutes of content when you take out all the walking.
Having all that subjective time in an amount of objective time that fits in the real world... My brain learned some tricks. Powerful tricks, but the output didn't scan right. My early attempts at dream recording glitched the recording software, soaked great fix-it efforts on the part of developers who wanted to know where their bugs were, and then after all that work the result dulled test audiences to sleep. Most dreams are too packed to make sense of without editing. Mine were so sparse I was the only one who had the patience for them.
I almost didn't get my toehold in the industry like that. It was just an editing problem, but it was *nobody's* editing problem. But then the time compression scripts came...
When I did get going... Like I said, I thought I'd be immune to everything. The early time compression scripts were made for me specifically, and then the problem nobody else had became the tool nobody else had. Every quick genre clogged with schlock and here I was the pioneer of the *marathon* dream, the only source around for three day vacations you could have in two hours. A few patterns that had only ever ran on my brain started running on everyone's.
They'd buy one of my tapes at the dream gallery and start having long dreams all week. *Infamous.*
| |
[WP] A powerful new narcotic has hit the streets. It produces addictive bouts of deep introspection and personal self-improvement. As such, it has made an enemy out of every industry reliant on human insecurity to sell its product. | The cold was biting. Her cheeks burned with that sandpaper-chill common to these early February mornings.
She tucked her hands in her coat pockets, shoulders raised — as if that would protect her from the wind — and trudged over to the auto-car waiting for her on the corner.
Inside its soft, warm, machine-clean interior, she relaxed a little bit. It purred lightly as it shuttled her through the gray streets.
She glanced at her department-issued mobile, flicking it into mirror mode to have a quick look. Her sullen eyes made her wince but she was too tired to care.
The door opened with a quiet mechanical softness in the underground entrance to city hall.
Arriving on the 23rd floor for the press conference, her partner was standing against the wall, nursing some kind of hot beverage from the fashionable shop in the lobby.
"Jesus Carla, you look like shit."
"Keep it down Will, I'm not in the mood."
"I'm always in the mood."
Her stare must have conveyed her words as strongly as she felt them and he glanced down at the rim of his take-away cup, fidgeting with the top.
"Well, let's get this over with."
---
The mayor was her usual dull-in-that-fake-happy-way that mayors seem to become while celebrating something no one else really cared to celebrate.
When the Mindfull epidemic began to explode, almost overnight, it had sent shockwaves through the halls of power. Every day, in cities and towns across the world, press conferences like these took place.
Almost overnight, Mindfull tanked sales in the health and beauty sector; the same for most of the entertainment sector. Probably the worst hit, was the fashion industry.
Users litterally just stopped caring - and that was a problem for markets that relied very much of making people care. While the mysterious new drug wasn't fashionable at the outset, the scenes prone to drug use in general weren't affraid to take a test drive. Little did they know it would affect their industries the most. Mindfull turn hip, well, on its head.
Corporate lobyists, their clients the first to feel the financial "burden" of this new addiction, put a unparalleled effort into their purchase of political mindshare.
The crackdown was swift. Legislation was brutal.
As the head of narcotics, Carla was part of system bestowed the authority to push against the wave of drug use washing over humanity.
So here they were. Standing in a cold room, on a cold day, gathered around a small collection of Mindfull which Carla's officers had gathered in recent street sweep.
So it went. The mayor's mouth flapped. The live holostream lights flickered. Golf claps. Handshakes.
When the mayor pointed at Carla during the stream, touting a much-inflated street value for the cache, Carla began to feel the stress squeeze into her. The lights felt like an ocean of suns burning her tired eyes, frazzled hair, and highlighting the scar on her chin that surely was, at least partly, responsible for the lack of companionship in her life. She couldn't remember if she'd even brushed her teeth this morning. Her hands shook lightly, but she held them out of sight behind her. Sweat dripped down the small of her back.
By the end, she could no longer focus on what the dignitaries around her were mumbling. The words floated in the air like blurry clouds in undecipherable shapes. She thought she vaguely heard the Police super-intendant mention "promotion" but couldn't quite make out the context.
As her heart-rate continued to elevate she feared she'd make a fool of herself. She excused herself and quickly made an exit to the nearest washroom, increasing her pace in tandem with the growing panic in her gut.
Nearly running, she opened the door and found the nearest tiled wall. Slamming her back against it, she tried to regain her breath.
"Carla? Carla? Are you.... honey what's wrong?"
Her eyes had been closed and in her panic she hadn't checked to see who else might be occupying the washroom.
She cracked an eyelid and cringed.
"Mayor...."
The mayor cut her off and rolled her eyes. "Jeanne, come on now, no cameras in here."
"Jeanne..."
"Do you know what I did last night Carla?" she asked excitedly.
Her heart was racing again.
"I read Stephen Hawkings paper on Information Loss in Black Holes and spent the rest of the evening trying to follow the breath. I failed repeatedly, but it was wonderful." She let that last word sing out, in a style reminiscent of a day well spent at the beach. This from someone who just finished a hard-nosed, anti-drug PR event.
The mayor was looking at Carla warmly, blinking nonchalantly. Carla swallowed hard, knowing this was only going to go in one of two possible ways.
"How about you?"
"I.... uh...."
She was sweating.
She was too tired to pretend. "Well, I, uh, I started working on Mussorgsky's Pictures at an Exhibition for piano."
"Oh my," now with the tone of happy grandmother, "that sounds just incredible."
The mayor opened her handbag as she approached the head of the narcotics division. She pulled something out of her purse and thrust it towards Carla with an outstretched palm.
Two ways? Strike that. It gone a third way.
It was a little white square tablet with the triangle cut-out at the top - vaguely reminiscent of the letter "M".
"Come-down's a bitch isn't it."
| He stared out the windows of his office and saw the rain pounding down on the lush green trees. White walls adorned the office, accented with steel. the antique mahogany desk sat like a lion taking a nap in the centre of the office, and the speaker placed on top spoke with a shrill tone.
"Markus, they want to speak to you.", the woman over the speaker said.
He sauntered over to his leather chair and sighed. He picked up the receive and mumbled, "Thank you Helen.".
As the words entered his ear like worms burrowing through earth, his eyes went wider, and his jaw slacked open, and the hair on his neck stood straight up.
"Yes sir."
"Alright sir."
"ARE YOU FOR FUCKING REAL SIR!?"
He hung up the phone, and pushed away from his desk. He couldn't believe it. His board just told him that Slipstream is now mainstream, and is about to change the world. Apparently Slipstream is an inhaler that gives someone all the motivation and discipline they need to improve their lives in every aspect.
Every child that doesn't do well at school will no longer exist.
Junkies that fucked up their lives can now get addicted to this and turn into a productive member of society.
Lazy children that do nothing around the house will now find a purpose and help those around them.
It was horrendous. There had to be a way to weaponise it. A way to ensure that it can be used for corporate interests. But he was told that it was independently developed so that nobody can ever modify the chemicals.
Fuck.
Tapping his feet, and twisting a pen around his fingers, he thought. and thought. and when he could no longer think, he picked up the phone.
"Get Horace on the line please."
"Certainly sir."
He leaned back on his chair and almost went unconscious from dizzyness. He was starting to get worried with all the implications of this new drug.
"What can I do for you Sonny?", Horace answered, sounding like he just woke up from a deep slumber.
"Horace. Have you ever. Heard. Of. SLIPSTREAM?", Markus said.
"What in gods name is that?", Horace replied, suddenly sounding more awaky.
"Apparently we're all fucked Horace.",Markus said, standing up and pacing around the room, cord wrapping it self around his elbow, "We are going to be absolutely fucked. You know all of the subsidiaries that we picked up? They're no longer going to make any money. No more Cosmopolitan, no more reality television, no more useless websites that we waste people's time with. We are absolutely fucked."
"Hold on sonny, what the hell are you talking about now?", Horace said.
"Slipstream is a drug that injected will make that person focus and become a better person. They will have motivation and ambition and discipline, and we will have no income anymore as a result of this." Markus said, legs trembling as he sat back down to gain recomposure.
"Are you saying that they will actually use the Gym memberships? Are you saying that we will have to actually purchase more equipment?", said Horace.
"Exactly sir. And because you own planetfitness, I know you don't want to, so I am giving you a fair warning. We are absolutely fucked and there is nothing we can do. I have to go now.", Markus hung up the phone before a reply was heard.
He looked around the room. Sparse photos adorned the walls that gave him memories that felt fake now. His rather large office felt more like a prison, the walls physically moving in on him. The door stood like a guard, telling him he would never be able to leave. He started breathing shallow. His pulse heightened and sweat stained his ten thousand dollar suit. His mind would not stop racing and neither would his heart. He hastily took his rolex off and his suit jacket, and unbuttoned his shirt. He looked at the windows and they appeared to be taunting him, telling him that he could never leave.
Not that it mattered. He didn't want to leave now. He didn't want a world where his friends are unable to make money off the laziness of the many. The sheeple they called them as they ate and drank expensive wine and caviar at the expense of the so called sheeple, never tipping.
It was all over. The sheeple would join the ranks, and his sense of elitism would be over. He didn't want to witness it.
He stood up and walked towards the window. Glass. 4 feet tall. Rain. Never ending downpour. He felt like a raindrop, where mere moments before he felt a god. He thought about dropping down the stories below and feel exactly what a raindrop, no a sheeple would feel like.
He grabbed a vase and tossed it towards the window. It smashed and the wind poured in, filling his nostrils with his next decision. He hopped up to the sill and stared the depths below, wondering what the world was going to be like.
"I don't want to know."
He jumped. | |
[WP] A powerful new narcotic has hit the streets. It produces addictive bouts of deep introspection and personal self-improvement. As such, it has made an enemy out of every industry reliant on human insecurity to sell its product. | The Do-right hit me quite hard. So hard, in fact, that I shut off the television, and lay on my floor. What was the point of a chair anyway? The floor wasn't that uncomfortable. I subconsciously reached up, and wiped the makeup from my face, feeling freed from a prison as I removed my mask. The drug, while powerful and expensive, was highly sought after. I had made my fortune years ago in stocks, and after selling it all to retire a secret billionaire, I resented my quiet life. After I had discovered Do-right though, it changed. I was no longer lonely and sad, I had no craving for unnecessary friendship or silly items. Do-right had given me the confidence to live the life I wanted to. In fact, the worst part of my life then was when I wasn't on Do-right.
I stood, and made my way to the kitchen. I opened my refrigerator, and retrieved a salad, my new favorite food. After all, what is taste but a lie your tongue tells your mouth? If its good for me, who cares how my tongue feels?
I sat at my table, and began to eat, savoring each chilly bite of lettuce. The glass of water next to me sat, lukewarm, but as a nice contrast to the vegetable. The only sense Do-right affected was sense of health. And I was the healthiest I had ever been in my life.
I heard a crash outside my window. I stood up quickly, considering my options. I knew I had to hide, and I slinked my way to the closet. But on my way there, a hand reached from the dark, clamped my mouth and shoved me against a wall, smelling of perfume.
My muffled screaming only served to anger the hand's owner, and a slap to the face caused me to stop.
"These old bitches," he said, "they think this shit is ok to have."
I was puzzled, until another man entered my view, smelling strongly of rosebuds. The mystery was solved, and I knew instantly: they were perfume salesman.
"I can't believe this is who's taking all our business," the man holding me said, "she can barely move. How does she convince people of this?"
"Hell if I know," the man in front said, "it's not like she's gonna matter in a minute or two."
This terrified me, and I began to shriek again. The man in front approached slowly.
"I'm gonna get my friend here to remove his hand. I'm letting you know now, if you make a single sound I'll slit your throat real quick. Got it?"
I assume my eyes said yes, because he motioned, and my mouth was uncovered.
"Now listen here, and listen closely. Where'd you get that Do-right?"
He peered into my eyes, his young, chiseled face exactly what one would expect from a sleazy salesman. At my silence, he shrugged. He quickly flicked his wrist, and a knife appeared, blade glinting in the dim light.
"We can just kill you and find someone else, no skin off my back."
I whimpered, and a tear rolled down my face. He chuckled and shook his head.
"She's losing it. Let's just cut her off and move on to the next."
I shook my head violently, a last ditch attempt, and man behind me loosened his grip. I turned, and threw some powder into his mouth, then turning, did the same to the other before he could react. The man behind me stumbled into the wall, and fell over, knocking my pottery down on the way. The man in front just lost balance, then regained it.
"You're gonna regret... *whoa*."
I could see it hit him. He stopped, and looked at his gloved hands.
"Oh my God. I'm so sorry miss. I... I don't know what I was doing."
"It's ok deary," I smiled, "everyone thinks that before it hits them." His partner stood up, but said nothing. A tear rolled down his cheek.
"I... I gotta call someone."
He ran off, accompanied by a muted wailing through his hands. His partner stared blankly at me.
"I've been blind my whole life. My God I've wasted twenty five years of my life, oh my God!" he wailed.
"Listen here," I said, "Do-right will help you find your way." I reached into my pocket, and placed some loose powder in his hand. "Take this. You need it more than I do. I'm an old woman, I've done all I can. You can fix your life."
"Thank you so much," he said, and he kissed my forehead tenderly, "I'll come back sometime, I owe you for the pottery." He pointed sadly at the shards on the ground.
"It's ok," I said, "just make sure you use wisely."
He thanked me one more time, and left my house, returning me to my state of solemn introspection. I noticed a rose smell about my house for a week afterwards. I didn't care about how it smelled either way, but it didn't mean I couldn't appreciate the memory behind it.
Later, he returned to my home. He told me of how he had quit the job, and he was returning to college to get a degree in creative writing, his passion. I wasn't surprised, the Do-right was making him do right by himself. To this day, we have a weekly chat over coffee, he supplies me with stories, I supply him with Do-right.
And whenever I see someone selling makeup, or perfume, or crying in the bathroom, or broadcasting their insecurities, I just blow a little of my fairy dust into their face, and watch their lives change. And while you might not like my methods, I am doing right. Every time is another step towards a greater humanity. Another person out and about, doing right. | He stared out the windows of his office and saw the rain pounding down on the lush green trees. White walls adorned the office, accented with steel. the antique mahogany desk sat like a lion taking a nap in the centre of the office, and the speaker placed on top spoke with a shrill tone.
"Markus, they want to speak to you.", the woman over the speaker said.
He sauntered over to his leather chair and sighed. He picked up the receive and mumbled, "Thank you Helen.".
As the words entered his ear like worms burrowing through earth, his eyes went wider, and his jaw slacked open, and the hair on his neck stood straight up.
"Yes sir."
"Alright sir."
"ARE YOU FOR FUCKING REAL SIR!?"
He hung up the phone, and pushed away from his desk. He couldn't believe it. His board just told him that Slipstream is now mainstream, and is about to change the world. Apparently Slipstream is an inhaler that gives someone all the motivation and discipline they need to improve their lives in every aspect.
Every child that doesn't do well at school will no longer exist.
Junkies that fucked up their lives can now get addicted to this and turn into a productive member of society.
Lazy children that do nothing around the house will now find a purpose and help those around them.
It was horrendous. There had to be a way to weaponise it. A way to ensure that it can be used for corporate interests. But he was told that it was independently developed so that nobody can ever modify the chemicals.
Fuck.
Tapping his feet, and twisting a pen around his fingers, he thought. and thought. and when he could no longer think, he picked up the phone.
"Get Horace on the line please."
"Certainly sir."
He leaned back on his chair and almost went unconscious from dizzyness. He was starting to get worried with all the implications of this new drug.
"What can I do for you Sonny?", Horace answered, sounding like he just woke up from a deep slumber.
"Horace. Have you ever. Heard. Of. SLIPSTREAM?", Markus said.
"What in gods name is that?", Horace replied, suddenly sounding more awaky.
"Apparently we're all fucked Horace.",Markus said, standing up and pacing around the room, cord wrapping it self around his elbow, "We are going to be absolutely fucked. You know all of the subsidiaries that we picked up? They're no longer going to make any money. No more Cosmopolitan, no more reality television, no more useless websites that we waste people's time with. We are absolutely fucked."
"Hold on sonny, what the hell are you talking about now?", Horace said.
"Slipstream is a drug that injected will make that person focus and become a better person. They will have motivation and ambition and discipline, and we will have no income anymore as a result of this." Markus said, legs trembling as he sat back down to gain recomposure.
"Are you saying that they will actually use the Gym memberships? Are you saying that we will have to actually purchase more equipment?", said Horace.
"Exactly sir. And because you own planetfitness, I know you don't want to, so I am giving you a fair warning. We are absolutely fucked and there is nothing we can do. I have to go now.", Markus hung up the phone before a reply was heard.
He looked around the room. Sparse photos adorned the walls that gave him memories that felt fake now. His rather large office felt more like a prison, the walls physically moving in on him. The door stood like a guard, telling him he would never be able to leave. He started breathing shallow. His pulse heightened and sweat stained his ten thousand dollar suit. His mind would not stop racing and neither would his heart. He hastily took his rolex off and his suit jacket, and unbuttoned his shirt. He looked at the windows and they appeared to be taunting him, telling him that he could never leave.
Not that it mattered. He didn't want to leave now. He didn't want a world where his friends are unable to make money off the laziness of the many. The sheeple they called them as they ate and drank expensive wine and caviar at the expense of the so called sheeple, never tipping.
It was all over. The sheeple would join the ranks, and his sense of elitism would be over. He didn't want to witness it.
He stood up and walked towards the window. Glass. 4 feet tall. Rain. Never ending downpour. He felt like a raindrop, where mere moments before he felt a god. He thought about dropping down the stories below and feel exactly what a raindrop, no a sheeple would feel like.
He grabbed a vase and tossed it towards the window. It smashed and the wind poured in, filling his nostrils with his next decision. He hopped up to the sill and stared the depths below, wondering what the world was going to be like.
"I don't want to know."
He jumped. | |
[WP] A powerful new narcotic has hit the streets. It produces addictive bouts of deep introspection and personal self-improvement. As such, it has made an enemy out of every industry reliant on human insecurity to sell its product. | The cold was biting. Her cheeks burned with that sandpaper-chill common to these early February mornings.
She tucked her hands in her coat pockets, shoulders raised — as if that would protect her from the wind — and trudged over to the auto-car waiting for her on the corner.
Inside its soft, warm, machine-clean interior, she relaxed a little bit. It purred lightly as it shuttled her through the gray streets.
She glanced at her department-issued mobile, flicking it into mirror mode to have a quick look. Her sullen eyes made her wince but she was too tired to care.
The door opened with a quiet mechanical softness in the underground entrance to city hall.
Arriving on the 23rd floor for the press conference, her partner was standing against the wall, nursing some kind of hot beverage from the fashionable shop in the lobby.
"Jesus Carla, you look like shit."
"Keep it down Will, I'm not in the mood."
"I'm always in the mood."
Her stare must have conveyed her words as strongly as she felt them and he glanced down at the rim of his take-away cup, fidgeting with the top.
"Well, let's get this over with."
---
The mayor was her usual dull-in-that-fake-happy-way that mayors seem to become while celebrating something no one else really cared to celebrate.
When the Mindfull epidemic began to explode, almost overnight, it had sent shockwaves through the halls of power. Every day, in cities and towns across the world, press conferences like these took place.
Almost overnight, Mindfull tanked sales in the health and beauty sector; the same for most of the entertainment sector. Probably the worst hit, was the fashion industry.
Users litterally just stopped caring - and that was a problem for markets that relied very much of making people care. While the mysterious new drug wasn't fashionable at the outset, the scenes prone to drug use in general weren't affraid to take a test drive. Little did they know it would affect their industries the most. Mindfull turn hip, well, on its head.
Corporate lobyists, their clients the first to feel the financial "burden" of this new addiction, put a unparalleled effort into their purchase of political mindshare.
The crackdown was swift. Legislation was brutal.
As the head of narcotics, Carla was part of system bestowed the authority to push against the wave of drug use washing over humanity.
So here they were. Standing in a cold room, on a cold day, gathered around a small collection of Mindfull which Carla's officers had gathered in recent street sweep.
So it went. The mayor's mouth flapped. The live holostream lights flickered. Golf claps. Handshakes.
When the mayor pointed at Carla during the stream, touting a much-inflated street value for the cache, Carla began to feel the stress squeeze into her. The lights felt like an ocean of suns burning her tired eyes, frazzled hair, and highlighting the scar on her chin that surely was, at least partly, responsible for the lack of companionship in her life. She couldn't remember if she'd even brushed her teeth this morning. Her hands shook lightly, but she held them out of sight behind her. Sweat dripped down the small of her back.
By the end, she could no longer focus on what the dignitaries around her were mumbling. The words floated in the air like blurry clouds in undecipherable shapes. She thought she vaguely heard the Police super-intendant mention "promotion" but couldn't quite make out the context.
As her heart-rate continued to elevate she feared she'd make a fool of herself. She excused herself and quickly made an exit to the nearest washroom, increasing her pace in tandem with the growing panic in her gut.
Nearly running, she opened the door and found the nearest tiled wall. Slamming her back against it, she tried to regain her breath.
"Carla? Carla? Are you.... honey what's wrong?"
Her eyes had been closed and in her panic she hadn't checked to see who else might be occupying the washroom.
She cracked an eyelid and cringed.
"Mayor...."
The mayor cut her off and rolled her eyes. "Jeanne, come on now, no cameras in here."
"Jeanne..."
"Do you know what I did last night Carla?" she asked excitedly.
Her heart was racing again.
"I read Stephen Hawkings paper on Information Loss in Black Holes and spent the rest of the evening trying to follow the breath. I failed repeatedly, but it was wonderful." She let that last word sing out, in a style reminiscent of a day well spent at the beach. This from someone who just finished a hard-nosed, anti-drug PR event.
The mayor was looking at Carla warmly, blinking nonchalantly. Carla swallowed hard, knowing this was only going to go in one of two possible ways.
"How about you?"
"I.... uh...."
She was sweating.
She was too tired to pretend. "Well, I, uh, I started working on Mussorgsky's Pictures at an Exhibition for piano."
"Oh my," now with the tone of happy grandmother, "that sounds just incredible."
The mayor opened her handbag as she approached the head of the narcotics division. She pulled something out of her purse and thrust it towards Carla with an outstretched palm.
Two ways? Strike that. It gone a third way.
It was a little white square tablet with the triangle cut-out at the top - vaguely reminiscent of the letter "M".
"Come-down's a bitch isn't it."
| It’s an easy job for the most part. The thing about the thinkers is that tend to congregate. For a group that’s so bloody enlightened, they sure do crave each other. I guess snakes do the same thing in winter. We just put someone on the inside, wait a bit, and then strike when they get together. We like to hit at one of the “clubs” as they call them. A “club” is when they all get together and trade their wares. The drug of thought, the opiate of the intelligentsia.
I remember my first collar. I was a really cold November day, crisp. The Sergeant got us together in the morning. As the new guy I was just going to watch the perimeter. We kitted up in the black leather vests and helmets each christened with the bright silver crest of the Order Police. We rode to the scene in our beetle cars. They glistened against the streetlights. I hopped out and got put on watching a rear alley. No action I thought. Then as they raided the spot this girls comes popping out the back door. Young thing, jean jacket. Up over a few trashcans for both of us and she’s on the ground. No real drama to it. Then it’s time for the evidence collection. So we state off what we find to the Sergeant.
Two copies Paine, one copy Marx, four different Shakespeare, one copy Hemingway, two copies Asimov, two copies Bradbury, one copy Orwell, and a copy of Huxley .
| |
[WP] In a bizarre attempt to eliminate corruption, world governments have replaced currency with contests to see who can throw a duck the furthest. Somehow, it works. 100 years into the future, life is different. | The following is an excerpt from the previously unreleased folk album by acclaimed artist Skrint Ramses. He passed before production could be finished, but wanted to comment on the recent gym raids of 2108. This is the unfinished song.
Skrint Ramses "Quacker Jack"
He sat up large and was in charge
Of a gym on the lake with no certain fate
He was a hardworking man with biceps for days
His name was Jack and man could he play
(Refrain)
They called him Quacker Jack
He had it tattooed on his back
He could throw a duck so far away
There was no limit to his pay
If you were to bet your life
Be sure to bring your best duck
Or else you're out of luck
Jack was good, Jack was swift
But Jack also had a bad itch
He would juice to the rhythms of the quacks
Jack was a notorious old hack
(Refrain)
Jack got caught with his juice
The judge claimed he caused abuse
He abused the system
He abused his power
He juiced so hard his testes went sour
When judge called for the gym to be sold
Jack was tired, withered and old
He could not fight 'cause he lost his juice
The duck thrower was now a goose
(Refrain)
When Jack died there was no man
Who claimed to be his friend
He had nothing to his name
His family went to shame
Nothing is known now of Quacker Jack
The juicing, duck throwing fraud
Except the fact he was a hack
Who played the con of cons
(Refrain)
Still one question does remain
How did Jack make those initial gains?
He was not strong, but neither weak
Maybe ole Jack knew how to cheat
When asked to comment on the song, Skrint's producer said the following:
"Skrint did not agree with the juicers who gained the system through copious doping. It always ensured the rich stayed rich while the poor stayed poor. He applauded the Congressional decision to make steroids illegal entirely. This song is an ode to the unknown juicer out there, who despite their best intentions, wound up hurting more than healing."
Skrint passed after taking an abnormal amount of bull testosterone the night before a concert in Tallahassee. Some say he was a hypocrite. Others called him a tortured soul who ultimately became what he feared most, a cheat. Ultimately, his life is left to interpretation. Much like the songs he never finished.
I just want to apologize for writing this. I really don't know what I was thinking. Please forgive me, I'm delicate.
| I start this entry in hoping catalouge my life for when knowledge of these dark times in needed. I long for the days my grandfather described to me as I went to sleep as a young boy. A world of equal opportunity and wonder, where anyone could be anything. Thousands of cultures and lands to explore and see. However this way of life has long since been forgotten by the people of 2117. The world has been reduced to three, three factions who rule over all to make sure their goose stays cooked. So that their duck moves farthest, or their ducks stay light. yes, the world has changed. I belong to a poor duck farming village in what my grandfather tells me used to be Thailand. Thailand is the largest Duck exporter outside of north america and our area is a certain hotspot of hotspots per say. We ship mostly to the leg tossers who control this area of the world. they say that to throw a duck farthest, you must sling it off of your leg due to kicking the duck being a banned practice back in 2055. They use special elastic slings attaching to their ankles to whip the duck forward. My family works for these leg slingers but deep down I have always wished to be an armsmin. The armsmin focus on pure upper body strength everyday to maximize their performance with the ducks. most end up wheel chair bound due to the lack of leg support for their arm muscles but that dies little to stop them in their respective ambitions. My Father was sent off to become an armsmin due to his apparent "superior wingspan" and my mother was taken off as a leg slinger due to her "well toned ankles" so only me and my grandfather remain. mayhaps the message will fall on a world free of these chains it has laid in itself.
_________________________________________________________________________________________
Not good at starting stories and worse at ending them, but i think im an OK world builder. Either way I hope it was enjoyable to read and passable for a first time poster | |
[WP] In a bizarre attempt to eliminate corruption, world governments have replaced currency with contests to see who can throw a duck the furthest. Somehow, it works. 100 years into the future, life is different. | The following is an excerpt from the previously unreleased folk album by acclaimed artist Skrint Ramses. He passed before production could be finished, but wanted to comment on the recent gym raids of 2108. This is the unfinished song.
Skrint Ramses "Quacker Jack"
He sat up large and was in charge
Of a gym on the lake with no certain fate
He was a hardworking man with biceps for days
His name was Jack and man could he play
(Refrain)
They called him Quacker Jack
He had it tattooed on his back
He could throw a duck so far away
There was no limit to his pay
If you were to bet your life
Be sure to bring your best duck
Or else you're out of luck
Jack was good, Jack was swift
But Jack also had a bad itch
He would juice to the rhythms of the quacks
Jack was a notorious old hack
(Refrain)
Jack got caught with his juice
The judge claimed he caused abuse
He abused the system
He abused his power
He juiced so hard his testes went sour
When judge called for the gym to be sold
Jack was tired, withered and old
He could not fight 'cause he lost his juice
The duck thrower was now a goose
(Refrain)
When Jack died there was no man
Who claimed to be his friend
He had nothing to his name
His family went to shame
Nothing is known now of Quacker Jack
The juicing, duck throwing fraud
Except the fact he was a hack
Who played the con of cons
(Refrain)
Still one question does remain
How did Jack make those initial gains?
He was not strong, but neither weak
Maybe ole Jack knew how to cheat
When asked to comment on the song, Skrint's producer said the following:
"Skrint did not agree with the juicers who gained the system through copious doping. It always ensured the rich stayed rich while the poor stayed poor. He applauded the Congressional decision to make steroids illegal entirely. This song is an ode to the unknown juicer out there, who despite their best intentions, wound up hurting more than healing."
Skrint passed after taking an abnormal amount of bull testosterone the night before a concert in Tallahassee. Some say he was a hypocrite. Others called him a tortured soul who ultimately became what he feared most, a cheat. Ultimately, his life is left to interpretation. Much like the songs he never finished.
I just want to apologize for writing this. I really don't know what I was thinking. Please forgive me, I'm delicate.
| There was a lot of contention, whether the duck flying off counted towards ‘distance thrown’ but ultimately they decided that it was where the duck landed upon first being thrown.
However, if the duck manages to takeoff in flight before even landing then the thrower is automatically declared the winner of the contest.
A lot of cottage industries sprung up virtually overnight when they passed the Duck Bill into law. Larger duck farms and the invention of ‘throwing training’ mainly, but it was hailed as the law ‘boosting the economy’, and there isn’t anything Congress likes to push more as far as buzzwords go.
All in all, it’s a much better system than the olden days... or at least, that’s what they tell me in my mandatory *”Superior Decision Making Through Duck Throwing”* seminars.
They would know best.
-Fin-
Edit: I keep dropping my “i”’s | |
[WP] Humans are considered a fairly normal species by galactic standards; not exceedingly smart or strong, advanced or primitive, don't violate the laws of physics in any notable fashion. The only noteworthy thing about them is that nobody seems to know where they came from. | The council chamber was silent.
A single drop of sweat slid down John's neck. When he'd taken the job as ambassador, he'd been happy. His track record was stellar. He had helped diffuse conflicts all around the globe. His calm and poise was legendary; even in the most dangerous situations he was known for his reserve. Nothing fazed him. Not warlords, not terrorists, not even (on one truly horrible day) the threatening of his wife and kids. So when the Human Coalition needed an ambassador to send to the council, the ruling body that governed the tangled web of alliances and agreements that was the Milky Way, they'd picked him. And he'd thought he was ready.
But now he was just confused.
It was common knowledge that humans were ordinary. They did not fly, like the Orisi. They were not telepathic, like the Viscar, or hyper intelligent like the Fer. Nothing about their physiology, mental or physical, violated any of the laws of physics discovered by any sentient species.
They were normal. Mundane. Boring. Human. Only human. Nothing he'd just said should have surprised them. Not one word of the speech he'd given, written by Earth's most brilliant minds, about Earth's brilliant history, should've been anything they hadn't heard before. And yet this was the reaction he'd gotten; a deep, unsettling silence that seemed to drag on and on.
Finally it was too much. He cleared his throat. "Excuse me?" he began. "Is something the matter?"
For a moment he thought he was going to be ignored. Then the Fer representative stepped forward, blue skin almost black in the gloom of the council room.
"You say you come from nothing?" he asked. John nodded. "That life on your planet arose by chance, and that your species, humanity, came about by happy accident?" John was a bit unsure of his grasp of the common-tongue, but he as by far the most fluent human speaker and he was certain he understood. He nodded again.
The Fer hummed softly, a sign, John had read, of deep thought. And then:
"The Fer began when an energy being from another dimension thought to experiment in the creation of beings optimized for thought. The Orisi worship the gods the created them; incredibly powerful beings from outside the universe that manipulated events to bring about their existence. The Viscar trace their origin to the splitting of a vortex of psychic energy as old as the universe itself."
The Fer was pacing now, walking back in forth on the slight podium that was his council seat (for the Fer thought better when they moved, and to be Fer was to think, always). "Every sentient species, every speck of life, every single biological organism this council has discovered since it's inception, was created. Everything, it seemed, was designed."
The Fer stopped, and fixed John with an unblinking, crimson stare. "Except for you humans."
John gulped. "I'm telling the truth." he said slowly, forcing his heart to slow. The stakes of his meeting were indescribable. This was more than first contact. This was the discussion that would determine humanity's place in the galactic hierarchy for who knows how many years to come. "As far as our scientists can tell-"
"I know." The Fer said. "The Viscar's telepathy long since confirmed the honesty of your species emissaries. And our review of the data your specialists delivered only supports our conclusion; that humanity is the first sentient species discovered truly native to this universe."
Now it was John's turn to stare. He had not been trained for this. Nothing he'd ever done could have prepared him for this. "What does that mean?" he asked.
The Fer smiled the smile of someone used to answering questions. Of someone who had been the smartest person in the room for so long they'd almost forgotten what it was like to have a true peer, and had so come to love lecturing. John wondered what it was like to be the Fer ambassador, surrounded everyday by inferior intellectuals. Trying to shepherd a galaxy of what, from his perspective, must have seemed like children. A slight probe of thought caught his attention, leading it to the Viscar. He turned slightly, making eye contact with the telepath in a moment of shared empathy. It was lonely, they both knew. The Fer couldn't wait to go home.
"It means that you aren't a creation." The alien genius began. "It means that you weren't put into this world, this dimension, by beings foreign to it. You aren't matter, molded into shape. You are what matter is capable of becoming when it is left alone."
And here the Fer's smile changed. Shifted, from one of patience to one of unbridled curiosity. The grin of a profoundly bored soul that, after decades in a desert of tedium had finally seen something new.
"It means you humans truly are this world in sentient shape; the universe experiencing itself." John felt like wilting under the intensity of the Fer's stare, but pride kept him tall. He represented his entire species tonight, and he would feel no fear.
"And I find that very, very interesting." | 'Yes, but where are you *really* from?'
'Earth.'
'So... your kind just sprang up out of the soil? No, seriously, why are you all so mysterious about it?'
'I'm from Earth. It's a planet. Our sun is called Sol.'
'You're from a planet that's the soil, with a sun called the sun? I'm serious, you've got to come from somewhere. No species just comes out of the soil. And you need a better name for your sun than 'sun'.'
'I hate these translators.' | |
[WP] A man kills himself to escape his constant, vivid and terrifying nightmares that occur whenever he falls asleep. To his horror, he wakes up - and realises that he is now eternally trapped in the nightmare as an afterlife. | Two months ago, my wife hugged me. “We’ll get through this” she said. Then I had a nightmare where I was sleeping next to a monster. It buried its claws in me. It burned, but I fought back. I had my hands around its neck when it cried for me to wake up. She left the next day. I don’t know where she went.
One month ago, I fell asleep at work. Just a quick snooze. Then there were bees in my head, and voices in my ear. A scritch scritch scritch of talons on my scalp, and the bees burt loose. Little Connor bits go everywhere to be snapped up by the crows. I was fired for one to many screaming fits.
Last night was a doozy. It’s worse when I’m hungry, and when I’m cold, and lately I’ve been experiencing a lot of each. Ants came through the window. I couldn’t move as they ate me. I woke up on a surgery table. They took my feet and it didn’t hurt. Then my knees, thighs, waste. Still no pain.
As the blue gloved hands reached my chest, I felt my breathing get ragged. Then all at once I felt the pain, then I woke up.
No hesitation. No indecision. No holding back. There’s only one way to end this.
Knife from the kitchen. My wife hid them all, to stop me from doing something like this. I kept one secret, taped below the table.
No hesitation. No indecision. Don’t even think about it.
They say to go horizontal not vertical, but I don’t think that applies to your neck.
Thin line. Thick red. Thin red. And it's over.
I wake up in my bed.
(Part 1) r/StannisTheAmish | Every night. Every damn night.
It's been happening for months, now. The same dreams. The same nightmares. They're so real. In my dreams I wake in my bed to the sound of it coming slowly through the door. Under the door. Sounding like plastic or paper crinkling quietly as if being unrolled by some unseen hand. Always coming closer.
Sometimes in these dreams I try to look at it, but most of the time I just can't bring myself to. Even if I hide myself under the covers I can feel its presence in the room. Ever closer. I can feel its eyes on me. It knows I'm right there. And why wouldn't I be? It's the same damn nightmare every time. At the start I tried sleeping on the couch, sleeping in hotels, or at friends houses. Nothing changes. I've tried therapy, pills, meditation, and seen spiritual leaders.
Always the same.
It gets tiring after a while, so that's why I tried to put an end to it. With the empty bottle next to me on the bedside table, drifting away into the eternal sleep, my only thought: Come and get me this time...
Dark.
...
Crinkle crinkle.
Outside the bedroom door. There's no way!
Crinkle crinkle.
Slowly moving under the door into the room. Will I never be rid of this?
Crinkle crinkle.
Ever closer, ever threatening. Full of hate and anger. Heart pounding, knowing this time there is no way I will wake from this, I turn my head to face it. To see its shapeless mass as is crawls, almost slithering, across the room to the bed. It is close enough now that I can hear a second sound accompanying it. One I'd never heard before. A quiet wheezing, which is becoming more frantic as it inches closer and closer. It sounds excited, now. As it crawls up the bed I hear it breathe rapidly and loudly as it crawls upon the sheets.
It's never gotten this close to me before. Normally by now I awake, disappearing from this creature's world for another day. Not this time. This time I have no control, no out, no way of returning to the existence I was so tired of just moments ago. So close, yet so far.
My heart beats quicker and quicker as I feel its weight on top of me. The combined sounds of the crinkling and raspy breathing are maddening. I can almost feel it reaching my throat. Slowly tightening.
Just then, something unexpected.
A sharp jolt runs through my ribs. Through my heart. I can't tell if this is the creature's doing, as it seems to have been disturbed by it as well. It moves faster now. I am completely pinned down under it as it moves towards my face. I can feel its sharp frantic exhalations drying my eyes.
Another sharp jolt and for a brief moment the sounds of the creature disappear and I see people crowded around me. Surgical masks.
The crinkly sound is back and half of my face is covered. The creature suddenly tightens down upon me, as if I had momentarily escaped it's grip. I will be stuck in this state of unbreathing for the remainder of my consciousness, however long that will remain. No air to breathe in. No air to scream out.
Another jolt to the chest brings another flash of another place. The people again. Machines beeping. And someone crying. I feel the bed that I'm laying on lift underneath me and carry me to another surface just to my side.
I hear the crinkling again. Now I am on the floor next to the bed and I am no longer covered by the creature. The frantic breathing is now an angry, hollow roar of rage. I have somehow escaped the creature's grasp and can hear it moving towards me once again. It slithers down the side of the bed at a quicker pace than before. It was savouring its time before. This time it wants me before I disappear again.
Dark.
I slowly wake to the sounds of machines beeping and pumping air. There are fewer people in the room this time, and the urgency is no longer in the air. I am alive, but has anything changed? Was I really dead before, or was I in a coma? If not, will death, when it does come, finally release me from the nightmare? Do I still have to face the creature in my nightmares every time I sleep?
Every night? Every damn night? | |
[WP] The aliens encounter a strange new species, called "humans", and the non-sapient creatures which they simultaneously worship and are served by, called "dogs". | "Why do you do it?" I asked the creature that stood before me.
The creature in question truthfully isn't all that different from myself. In another world, one in which the evolutionary path of the Zarthurians had taken a different path, I might have come to meet this creature looking the same to them as they do to me. Perhaps one day that just might happen if his planet can survive long enough.
The differences are few, but extremely noticeable. Instead of the translucent skin of my species, theirs is a dark brown. While I'm told they do come in different colors, none come close to being as light as us. Then there's the arms: they still have hands. They're nice, and I'm sure they have their uses. But compared to our morphing tentacles, I don't really see the appeal. The same could be said of their legs. They're also covered in hair. Some of it is more visible than others, the bits on their head being darker than the parts on their arms. Still, it's all hair. I can't imagine having to swim with all that.
But it's not them that I'm here for. As far as dominant species go in this sector, they're relatively normal. They overgrow the planet that they're on until they cover it. Then they either reach peak population mass and die out or start downsizing. There's always the option of continuing the growth on other planets... But we're here to make sure it doesn't come to that. For all intents and purposes, this "humanity" is almost entirely unremarkable.
That is, save for its secondary species. We don't quite have a classification for such a thing yet. So we've taken to labeling them as a secondary dominant species despite the fact that they don't seem to be dominant or intelligent, for that matter.
The secondary species is called "dogs," quadruped beasts covered in fur. They don't seem to have any distinct patterns in terms of size, color, or fur pattern, but you can tell what they are when you see them. I checked the database for one and since then it's been pretty easy to tell it apart from its cousins "cat" and "hamster."
We can't tell what's special about them, but the primary dominant species seems to see something in them. They've enslaved them, which isn't unusual. Slaves can be of great benefit when you have no concern of the consequences of exponential expansion, and when they're stupid enough that they can't rebel.
But usually when that happens, the slaves are degraded and heavily disciplined so as to prevent an uprising. This isn't the case on this planet. The "humans" feed the "dogs," they care for their exercise, socialization, excrement, and hobbies. At times, I began to question which species is the subservient one. They fill the pages of literature with stories about them and portray them in golden perfection through moving pictures. "Man's best friend," they call them. It's entirely unheard of.
I wanted to know more, which is why my curiosity led me here. Members of a small colony told me that if I followed a pathway through this forest then it would lead me to a house where a member of the species that they called "the greatest canine fanatic among them" lived. They did not lie, a pleasant surprise for my tired and confused mind.
"Why do you do it?" I repeat to them. The brown human sits on a small chair constructed from chopped trees. Beside them sit two dogs, both of which they are absentmindedly rubbing. They look up at me, their face initially one of confusion. After a moment, they discard the look and replace it with a smile.
"You know, I've been waiting a while now for someone to ask me that. I just didn't think it would be one of, ah..." They pause nervously and then point to me. "You guys." They finish. The dog they removed their hand from looks up at them expectantly and whines softly. They quickly take notice and resume their rubbing of its fur.
"C'mere" They say, and jerk their face to their left. I take it to be a gesture that I should sit next to the dog. If I were not aware of their reverence for these creatures, I would be insulted. I comply with their suggestion and take a seat beside the creature, its fur brushing up against my left tentacle.
"Why do you do all this for them?" I repeat for the third time.
"Truthfully, I don't know." They say. "Sometimes, I tell myself that it's because they need me, y'know? These dogs can't take care of themselves out in the wild so I had to do something. I say that I do it because it's the right thing to do and I'm just such a nice guy that I do it."
"Sometimes?" I ask.
"Yeah, sometimes." They answer, though it would be generous to call someone repeating my question that.
"And the other times?"
"I'm not the nice one in this relationship. It's them. Truth is, no matter how much I do for them, I'll still never do enough to deserve them. These dogs have been with me through it all. Not them specifically, though. Some come. Some... go." Their eyes looked off into the distance, and their expression softened as they said it.
"But they're always there for me. They're always nice to me, as long as I'm nice to them. I can't say the same for regular people. With people, you can give and give and give, and it'll never be enough. They'll always want more and they'll never give back. Dogs don't think like that. They just want food, water, some wal-" They get halfway through the word and the dogs ears perk up. "Healthy exercise, and they're happy. They're simple like that. They're nice like that."
"But what do you get out of it?"
"They're nice to me back. Sometimes, I don't do so well," They take their hand off the dog for a moment to tap their finger on their head. "Up here, I mean." I saw their meaning.
"They take care of me. If I cry, they come to me and let me hug 'em. They just sit there with me, sometimes for hours, while I let it out. Sometimes they cry along with me, too. Other times, I have things I can't talk about. 'least not with people. I can tell these dogs whatever I want and they'll listen. They're good listeners, these dogs. Haven't walked away from my stories once, and I always give 'em a treat afterwards." They smiled and rubbed the dog a little harder.
"I guess what I'm trying to say is: I'm good to them and they're good to me. They're fair. If I'm ever not good to them, they'll leave me because I'll deserve it. There's a lot in this world that isn't fair or that doesn't make sense. Dogs don't care about all that. Dogs are the one thing in this world that'll do you you right."
One of the dogs from off the porch walked over to me and jumped up on my lower tentacles. I hadn't noticed it before, but now that one of them was sitting in my lap it was impossible not to: it's fur is so *soft.*
"That one's taken a liking to you, I see." The human commented.
I tentatively morphed my tentacles into a shape resembling a human hand and mimicked the motion they had made earlier. The dog looked up at me, tongue out and panting. The look it made distinctly resembled a smile.
"I suppose it has." I said, running my tentacle down its back. It felt nice. | "Kled, I need explanation on a part of this observation report."
Kled raised his second head away from his work station while his first head kept compiling a new report on S556-4. Kled was a Dumokian. Grey, clammy skin, three eyes on each head, tripedal and generally easy to get along with around the Lower Civilization Observation Force office.
"Which part?"
His boss was a Kud. Short, hairy, one arm that could split into small armatures, grumpy with the wet season, friendly in the dry. It was the wet season.
"What do you mean by 'multiple symbiotic species pairings?' You mention it several times in the social structure and economic observations. How many animal symbiotes does a human have?"
Kled shuffled around on his station seat, "It depends on geographical location, socio-economical status, and individual human immune systems."
"Explain."
Kled sighed and turned his second head around so he could focus entirely on his boss.
"Human's have developed an odd, well, pairing system with animal life. They have succeeded in creating guardian creatures out of several species by selectively breeding them to act as companions and alarms in exchange for food and medical care." Kled entwined his tentacles over his second leg, "However, they did not confine themselves to useful animals. Some will pair with creatures that offer no benefit and, in fact, create more dangers for them. Some even keep dozens of creatures whose bite would kill them almost instantly."
"That is insane." Ked's boss waved his armatures around, "What sort of living creature would willingly risk themselves that way?"
"This kind, at least." Kled bobbed his head. "If I had to speculate, I would guess that it has to do with social memory of their first successful domestication. The 'Dog' was created after breeding a particularly fierce pack predator until it was tame around humans that raised it, yet still dangerous to other humans who would invade or steal from the dog-paired one. The process took several human lifetimes to complete the transformation. I believe that the other-pairings are attempting to complete the same objective: turn a dangerous creature into a domesticated symbiote."
Kled's boss thought about this for a moment, his armatures reforming to the parent arm before he spoke. "Dangerous. I hope they don't get a star drive for a long time. Imagine if they tried to do the same thing to a Hel-llud Worm, or a Scyrak? They'd kill themselves a lot, for sure, but what if they could pair with such monsters? I'm adding a note on your report. I think a specialized quarantine for the planet might be warranted."
"You think so?"
"Better to be cautious than a cadaver."
Kled watched his boss walk away with a curious expression on both of his faces. He turned back to his work station, paused, then whispered to himself:
"Someone should tell the humans that." | |
[WP] You are an alien crew checking out this "Earth" to see if humans can be safely integrated into intergalactic society. You are writing an report to your boss. | Report #7 Species Information and Communication Technologies
Salutations Cucklord,
Omichron 946 here, with a hot, spicy, fresh report. I have spent the last week on the "Humans" communication network, which us Memers refer to as the "Interwebz". Despite initial impressions, it seems like they have a very advanced digital network for communication, connecting a large portion of the planet. While I have heard from my comrades that the humans aren't quite dank at things such as peacefulness and equality, I think their communication network more than makes up for this. The level of intricate culture displayed is phenomenal, and if a fraction of them care half as much in their out of communication lives, this species will surely by a success in disguise. They will be more than capable of joining, and even better in the transplanetary communication network. I spent my first few days on the most popular platforms, such as Twitter and Facebook, however it was soon kindly expalined to me that these were mostly inhabited by the inferior normies. Since then I have spent the majority of my time on the 'websites' known as Reddit, 4chan and YouTube, which while still full of normies, are also home to the elite group, known as the memelords. The pursuit of knowledge and truth I have found is exceptional. I am currently in the process of being Red-pilled, which consists of exposing yourself to truths which would have otherwise been too painful to bear. You may notice I have translated many of the hip lingo I have found to the international standard language. I look forward to letting them join the Fedaration.
Outcome: Success
| Report Alpha 59: To USSU
Chosen course of action: Genocide.
Justification: I regret coming to this world. The majority of the population believes an ancient flawed system works.
They might have been capable of joining, but due to their efforts to undermine the very thing that was good for them. The only choice left is to destroy them.
They are a menace to our way of life, and if they spread out peaceful perfect system will be abolished for their wealthy class to profit off of.
Report over. May the United Socialist Systems of the Universe live for all time, forever. | |
[WP] You're a fairy. For centuries your people have told stories of strange creatures known as giants that, if a contract of servitude is made with, grants fairies the power to use magic. Stumbling through the forest you discover a large person with no wings. | Cela didn't care what her aunt and uncle said. She was going.
Her wings blurred with speed as she pushed further and further into the dark parts of the forest. They would soon know she was missing. they would know where she'd gone. She had to hurry and cross the barrier line before they caught her. Once there they wouldn't dare follow.
They said only tragedy answered those who sought the giant, but what if tragedy was all you've ever known? Cela had never sought for her parents to die in a fire. She'd never sought for her friends to be stolen away in the middle of the night. Yet those things had come to her. they had brought their pain and their suffering to her.
If the giant killed her, then so be it. At least she wouldn't be a curse upon any other.
Cela shot past a row of small stakes. They each had a design woven in vines between them, intricate and disturbing. The barrier: the last line before the Dark Hollow.
Cela felt her wings shiver as she passed through. Old magic lingered here. It caught on to the senses, sending sparks shooting through her arms and legs. Her hair felt strange as well, like there was a power gathering around it.
She pushed onward. The trees were thicker here, older and twisted. Their branches like gnarled fingers with bulbous knuckles and ragged, broken nails. She weaved through the tangle, dodging thorny brambles and massive lichen colonies along the way.
Then the world opened... not to light, but to a different shadow. Far above the trees were woven together so tightly that only the thinnest rays of light leaked through.
And in the center of the place... The Giant.
Cela stilled her wings and landed on a piece of long grass. The giant was massive. It was bigger than the largest bear in the forest. She had never seen anything like it before in her life. It's skin was like grey bark, rigid and splintered with cracks that ran parallel to each other. It's shoulders carried leaves the size of her whole village. Moss grew over it's feet and hands, thick and green.
It turned to look at her. There was no light in it's eyes, only an unfathomable darkness.
***What has brought you here, little one?***
"They say you have old magic!" Cela yelled as loud as she could, "They say you have the power of the forest itself!"
***They are correct.***
"I need magic!" Cela stood straight on the blade of grass, "My family is dead, my friends have been stolen. I need magic to bring them back!"
The giant watched her with it's shadowed eyes for a long moment. Then it laughed.
The sound boomed off of the trees around them, shaking the leaves and the grass. Cela stumbled and fell as even her perch shuddered under the sound. She tumbled and hit hard on an exposed root below her.
***Taken, were they?***
The giant lifted one of its feet from the ground. Roots stretched from it to the earth as it moved. He leaned forward over Cela until it's face obscured everything above her.
***Do you know where they were taken to?***
"No!" Cela stood up again, staring into the darkened eyes, "But I will find them!"
The giant laughed again, a small, low laugh that shook the very bones in Cela's body.
***Then I will help you find them.***
"You will!" Cela took to her wings and flew closer to the face above her, "Thank you!"
***I would not offer thanks so quickly. Not yet, at least.***
The giant drew back to its full height. It lifted a great arm and reached up into the canopy. It pulled something from the trees. Cela couldn't see what it was at first. The stray rays of light leaking above stabbed into her eyes, blinding her. She could tell that it was round, woven tightly from twigs and branches.
Then she heard the screams.
She heard her name shouted at her.
She heard cries of terror.
The cage dropped down in front of her. Her friends all clung to the bars, their forms just barely more than skeletons. Their starving faces pressed against the wood that entrapped them, arms reaching out. They screamed for her to run.
***Now you have found them***
Cela looked on in horror as the root she'd been standing on before sprouted a dozen branches and wrapped itself around her body. She tried to flee but she was too stunned to even move.
***Well done.*** | She stood there, tall like an oak. A deer in the headlights. No sounds were made except the low hum of my wings fluttering, the whistling of the spring birds, and the wind blowing among the tree tops. The nearby storm must have brought her to seek shelter in the forest. Beside her lied some sort of structure made of huge fallen trees. A shelter. This went against what the tales said. Giants were supposed to be dull; only capable of killing, some mumbled speech, and of course, their ability to grant magic. Just from her gaze I knew this must not be so. She was afraid of me. A thirteen foot beast was afraid of a three foot fairy. Why was this so? I had to speak. My heart hammered. My muscles constricted trying to come up with something to say.
“H-hello!”
The giant stared. But still, she made no movement. Perhaps they really were dumb. I decided maybe it would be best if I came up closer. After all, if anything happened I could easily fly away. No way this creature could catch me. Slowly I approached, like the way a boy does when he’s befriending a stray dog. Somehow, her body tightened up even more than it already was. Her hand reached for one of the huge branches in her collection the size of a human.
“I’m not here to hurt you!” I yelled. “The storm is coming quick! This whole forest is going to come down if it keeps heading this way! I’m going through to help anyone I can. Please, what’s your name?”
Her body became more relaxed as an eyebrow raised with curiosity.
“Helga stay away from fairy. Fairy bad. Fairy enslave giant” she growled. I was confused. Enslave? What was she talking about?
“I promise I’m not here to enslave anyone! What brings you to say that?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“Giant lives long time. Helga sees the death and destruction of her family. Fairies do this. Fairy smart. Fairies trick giants into thinking friends. Friends not. Use magic for bad. Try to kill Helga. Kill rest of friends and family. Torture them until they give them magic. Helga go to deep slumber to hide. Now, she last giant.” Her head weighed down. Obviously memories were drifting into her mind. It’s true. The tales of giants said they did live much longer than a fairy, even going up to a thousand years. It was a rare commodity for a fairy to live past fifty. But was what she said true? Among all of the races, fairies were the most peaceful.
Okay, I had fun writing, but something came up and I can’t finish. I will another time. This is also my first WP and I’m typing on mobile, so go easy! | |
[WP] While roaming the depths of Hell, you happen upon a small white notebook in a shallow hole, with Lucifer's name written on the cover. It's his old diary. | "Dear diary,
I honestly can't understand my Dad. He said I shouldn't be wandering the outskirts of the Silver City, and yet he made me Captain of the Guard. What am I supposed to do?
More importantly, why does the Guard even exist in the first place? What is there besides us?"
 
 
"Dear diary,
I felt something new today, something I don't have a name for.
I went to the Edge again, trying to understand my purpose in this. I sat there, my feet dangling over the vast Emptiness of the Dark, my wings gently flapping at my back. I couldn't see anything, but I could hear them. Whoever they are, I can *hear* them. My body felt cold, and I started shaking at that sound. I flew away."
 
 
"Dear diary,
There's something wrong with me, but I don't know what it is. My Dad said I shouldn't worry about a thing, that he has it all planned and I should trust him, but... How can I? He won't tell me anything. He says I'm his favorite son, the brightest star in his Creation. It makes me happy, but what if...? The Voices in the Dark whisper to me."
 
 
"Dear diary,
I fought with Michael today. He caught me listening to the Voices and their whispers. I tried to tell him I didn't mean to Disobey, but he wouldn't listen to me. So we fought. He told Father about it, and I was scolded. What am I, a child?"
 
 
"Dear diary,
I saw my Father playing with something in the Halls of Creation. It was a black tapestry, filled with tiny glowing lights. I asked him what that was, but he wouldn't tell me. He said it was a surprise.
I hate surprises."
 
 
"It's been six days since I last wrote here.
He has betrayed us. He said we were his favorite children, his favorite creation, made out of pure fire. We were glowing stars in the Silver City. Perfect beings, and now... Now he has created... Mudlings. They were obviously inspired by us, but there's just something *wrong* about them. Something *lacking*. They're less than us. They're... They're made out of mud!"
 
 
"This can't go on. I think he has lost his mind. He demanded that we *kneel* before the mudlings. Kneel! We are pure! We are perfect! We are beyond divine! And he wants us to *kneel* before walking mud? The Voices were right, it seems. He has betrayed us. But I think I can fix this. I have a plan."
 
 
"It worked! He cast the mudlings away!"
 
 
"One of the younger mudlings killed the other. There's a red substance running inside of them. It's not fire. It looks like red water, and it tastes like iron. He cast the mudling away, but why? The mudling had never killed anything before then. He was working the land, doing his best to please *him*. But he wouldn`t be pleased. He... He seems partial to the smell of death, for some reason I can't understand... The Voices warned me about it. They said Death was his ultimate goal. But why? Why create, only to destroy? I can't understand it. And I can't talk to him anymore."
 
 
"This has gone too far. He found some of my brothers talking to the mudlings, teaching them how to survive in that terrible land, and he... He unmade them. He dismissed them out of existence. Why? Why do I have tears in my eyes? Why do I cry? What is this emptiness I feel inside my heart?"
 
 
"I talked to some of my brothers. Azazel and Samael are eager to leave. But where can we go? And Michael... We need to get rid of Michael before he finds out."
 
 
"This is the end. Michael told him about us. He summoned me and stripped me of my wings, but it was of little consequence. I forged new wings for myself. Wings of Fire and Shadow. The Voices showed me how. Now I see the Truth. Now I see what they meant from the beginning. He is in love with Death. He... He *needs* to destroy. I cannot abide by that. I cannot.
Tomorrow we fight."
| Flipping open the cover, I skimmed through the various pages of the diary until I happened across an interesting entry. It read as follows:
“I looked into Eden, where Adam currently resides. I’m not going to deceive anyone, his rear is particularly alluring.”
Maybe that’s why he got sent here. | |
[WP] Your parents have kept it secret long enough; they can no longer stand your misery. They decide to change your life's difficulty from "Expert" to "Novice". |
“Just stop it! Stop it Alina! Please we beg you!” my mother shouted, tears streaming down her face. Father stood right beside her, his face bewildered, staring straight at me.
My breathing was heavy. I sat there in a puddle of my own blood. I picked up my hand, which was stained with redness and looked at the shard of glass in my hand. I threw my head back and rested it on the pillar beside me, turning my head to look at the broken mug that I had thrown to the ground only moments before. My mind is scattered. I don’t feel like myself. This is not who I am. This is what I have become. I didn’t want to look at what I did to myself, but I had to see, I had to. My eyes glanced towards my mutilated left arm. Blood came spooling out of wounds that I could not see. Hot tears welled up in my eyes. I can’t believe I did this. My sadness turned into rage at the world. The world that has overwhelmingly burdened me and has caused me to swoop so low.
“Please…” mom cried.
She doesn’t understand what it’s like to go through this. My life has been hard since I was born. Challenges thrown at me every which way. Some of those challenges consisting of my domineering psychotic parents.
“We’ll help you,” dad managed to say.
“Yes. Yes we will Alina. We have something magnificent to tell you matter of fact.”
My mind was still clouded by the events that had just taken place. I couldn’t focus over the pounding of my mind telling me to rue the world and my body spilling excessive fluids.
“We’re going to change everything for you Alina.”
Everything?
My dad bent down and was about to grab my hands, but retracted after seeing my bloody arms.
“From the moment you were born we thought you were special. We thought that you could take on the world regardless of the challenges you face. We wanted you to be the strongest most independent person out there…” he said.
“So, we decided that we were going to set your life difficulty level to expert.” Mom continued.
Expert?
“But now Alina,”
Expert?
“Now we can just change that for you. We can make things better.”
Expert?
“Yes. We will go to the court immediately and alter your life difficulty to novice. You’ll be relieved from your misery Alina. Relieved.”
Expert?
So all this time they had the power to…
Expert?
I clenched the shard of glass tighter in my hand and pulled myself up from the sticky blood beneath me.
“Alina…” mom said.
Expert?
I am a fucking expert?
I got up and walked towards the front door, placing my hand on the knob.
Expert?
“Alina get back here right now!”
No. I am an expert, remember.
“Alina!”
I turned the door knob and pulled the door open, and then I turned to my parents, turned to them one last time.
“Fuck you.”
| One morning, as Gregory Smith awoke from unsettling dreams, he discovered that in his bed, during the night, his skin had changed from brown to white. He lay on his back and saw, as he lifted his head up a little, his white abdomen, arms and legs sprawled out before him..
‘What’s happened to me?’ he thought. It was no dream. | |
[WP] Your parents have kept it secret long enough; they can no longer stand your misery. They decide to change your life's difficulty from "Expert" to "Novice". | I opened my eyes and saw the christmas light's reflection on the mirror by the bed. The room was cold, I had slept in a shirt and started to shiver. I got up, checked the radiator and it was ice cold. I put on some clothes and headed to the bathroom. After slowly managing to sit on the ice throne, I took a leak, washed my hands and headed for the heater. It displayed a warning code. 005. After a 2 minute google search I managed to find out what it stood for. No gas. Shit. They cut our gas.
I had been attending university for 6 years now and it was no longer a joke. My parents had stopped paying my rent or even the scary big gas bill. It was fucking January. And gas prices were off the roof. As always.
I earned a living working as an English tutor for a couple years. The first week of December 2088 went okay, but money was spent on new years. I was getting paid cash after every class, so I had no idea how much I would earn in a month until the month was over.
Unknowingly, I spent money, thinking class would continue or even increase during holidays, as I was used to from former students.
Oh boy, I was wrong. No class till mid february. No money till mid february.
So I had spent new years with friends, not my family. So they realized that they have become the victim of their own choice to lie to me all my life. I had distanced myself from them and did not need them anymore. Except, I needed cash. Oh so independent.
But then, a miracle happened. My credit card arrived. First one I ever owned. I am 24 years old and online shopping was very limited for me.
I not only got the gas back on, I bought a new heater for more pleasant showers without temperature flactuations.
I got a job earning 7k a month, working 15h a week as an english tutor.
I was able to get myself a new computer and phone after 5 years. Do you know how fast technology evolves nowadays? My old phone had a 3d screen , the new one can teleport me, even to the mars colony.
One night, while trying to sleep, I suddenly had a complete picture for an outline for my senior thesis in my head. I spent all night and wrote part of the intro and found research material.
And the other day, all the problems me and my boyfriend had resolved.
Then that phone call. My mom.
-How are you kuwairo?
-Actually I couldn't ask for more. All is well.
-I am glad you are happy. Happy New year. This is from all of us to you.
-What is, mom? I didn't get it.
-Your gift from all of us. And from the council.
-What are you talking about? I can't seem to follow.
-Oh, your new and easy life. Your happiness. Our gift to you. We put our trust in you.
-Have you had me get the job?
-No, you did that by yourself. But you were, let's say, handicapped before.
-How so?
-Oh I was hoping we would have this conversation one day. I always believed in you.
-Mom! Get to the point, please. No time for riddles. I am a busy person now.
-The government conducts an experiment on all newborn babies. Those with high iq's live life by the hardest stage. The ones with a low iq, live life in Easy mode. It is to establish full equality. That is how there is no rich or poor. Or rather, barely any poor. You were quite an exception.
Have you ever asked yourself if your life is harder than those of others? Have you felt odd, unique, or special, because of that? Feeling aware of all?
Well. There is so much you don't know. You were the smartest kid born your decade. So they asked our permission to make your level harder. Harder than any life before.
-How is that possible and why do something like that? How could you do that?
-Research. And every member of the union is obliged to offer their self to science. We thought you could cope with it, the harder life. You would be so strong. You would have an amazing character and also be qualified to become president.
- What the hell? What kind of parenting is this?
-You will be living life in Easy mode from now on. You got the taste of it, and loved it. Now it is so much more valuable for you.
-But why?
-Because society is scared of smart people. They tend to use others for their own gain, they can make an impact more than anyone else. So they are put through a test. If they treat people of all IQ's, ages, races, genders and backgrounds equally, they can start living life in Easy mode. And you did that. You proved you deserve to live life like this.
We had no choice.
To be continued l. | One morning, as Gregory Smith awoke from unsettling dreams, he discovered that in his bed, during the night, his skin had changed from brown to white. He lay on his back and saw, as he lifted his head up a little, his white abdomen, arms and legs sprawled out before him..
‘What’s happened to me?’ he thought. It was no dream. | |
[WP] Your parents have kept it secret long enough; they can no longer stand your misery. They decide to change your life's difficulty from "Expert" to "Novice". | Alex moved to the city to become an architectural engineer. He was certainly capable of learning everything he would need on his own, but he needed the an official degree and a license to get the jobs he wanted. Alex’s dream was to design his own city.
On his first day in the city, he bought a plot of land five miles from campus with money he had saved up from collecting recyclables every day. He cut down the trees on it and made himself a rough log cabin in a few hours. Classes didn’t start for a week. By the time they did, he was living in a two-story wooden house with plumbing and electricity hooked up.
Every day at five A.M., Alex woke up, made a three-course breakfast for himself, and then ran to campus. He missed taking care of the farm animals like home, but he supposed sacrifices had to be made.
His classes were populated by novices. They were bright, smiling schoolchildren, with not an ounce of sweat or muscle between them. They disgusted him, but he did his best to smile through it.
Each class was a mixture of practical and theoretical exercises.
He studied theory night and day, sleeping in the library, only to wake up, run five miles home for breakfast, and run back in time for class. Everything was a struggle, as it had been his whole life, and he pushed through the pain. There was no other way. He had a far better grasp of the principles than anyone in the class.
For the practical exercises, he was assigned to a team with three other students. Jack, Melissa, and Barb all gave their names when they were paired up. He shook their limp hands and introduced himself only as their better. And he proved it.
For each exercise, his three teammates were left on the sidelines as his mighty efforts yielded top-of-the-line projects. A pinball machine with anti-magnetic paddles to propel the ball. A crystal fountain that could be switched into fire hydrant mode in an emergency. A stadium made from popsicle sticks that could survive being hit by a car.
But as the year went on, he struggled to keep up. Each competition was one against four, and the other teams had their own wonderful creations. The last straw was when his stadium lost a competition to another group that made self-cleaning sink/baking soda volcano that was a shout out to their favorite professor’s favorite science fair project.
Why should he care what their professor liked? What was the point of something that cleaned itself? You were only missing out on a few hours scrubbing. That was nothing to Alex.
He added an upper level chemistry course to his workload in the middle of term, assuring his class advisor that he could handle it. There was no way he was going to miss the chance to add chemical reactions to his project, now that the novices had given him the idea. But the lessons he joined built on weeks of knowledge he didn’t have. He had struggled for his whole life. For the first time he was reaching his limits.
Alex was laying on his workshop floor, staring at the ceiling, when Barb came by.
“Jack thought you might want a little help.” She showed him a sketch of a Rube Goldberg machine, totally different from the cannon he was working on.
Alex’s head was dizzy from fumes of the chemicals he had been mixing. If he had been in his right mind, he would have shouted down her questioning of his abilities. Instead he weakly nodded, and immediately left the lab.
“Mom?” Alex paced back and forth, phone to his ear. He didn’t like feeling unable to keep up. His parents had always pushed him, and he knew that he could count on them to do it again. He would get stronger, strong enough to do everything alone.
After he explained the situation, and his moment of weakness in allowing the girl to help him, his mother was silent for a long moment.
“Your father had a brother growing up.” Alex frowned, wondering why he had never heard about an uncle.
“He lived on the expert difficulty, like you chose to.”
“Can I talk to him? I mean, it’s not like I need help. But if I know what he did, I can learn to do it too.”
“No, you can’t. He died when you were very small.”
“He died?? How?” It was a ridiculous thought. Novice doctors faced the same level of challenge as someone playing Operation.
“He insisted on performing his own surgery, without anesthesia. He passed out while stitching himself up and bled to death. If he had had anyone assisting him, they would have been able to call for help. We never even found out he was injured until we got the call that he had died.”
Alex didn’t know what to say. The brief thought passed his mind that maybe his uncle just hadn’t been good enough for expert level. The pain in his mother’s voice prevented him from voicing that thought, however.
“Listen, your father and I had reservations when you chose expert level. It can push you to become stronger, but it also isolates you. Cooperation is another kind of strength.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“No, you’ll try it. We’ve never forced the issue before, but we can change the setting for you. Try out Novice level until the end of the semester, and if you want to go back to Expert after that, we’ll let you.”
“Mom!”
“I have to go, honey. I love you.” She hung up.
Alex the Novice joined his classmates in presenting a Rube Goldberg machine, with the first piece launched by a rocket, in the next competition. They won.
He looked at the smiles on his teammates’ faces and felt his Expert reserve crack. This wasn’t so bad. Not bad at all.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
9/365. Constructive criticism welcome and appreciated. | One morning, as Gregory Smith awoke from unsettling dreams, he discovered that in his bed, during the night, his skin had changed from brown to white. He lay on his back and saw, as he lifted his head up a little, his white abdomen, arms and legs sprawled out before him..
‘What’s happened to me?’ he thought. It was no dream. | |
[WP] Your parents have kept it secret long enough; they can no longer stand your misery. They decide to change your life's difficulty from "Expert" to "Novice". | I opened my eyes and saw the christmas light's reflection on the mirror by the bed. The room was cold, I had slept in a shirt and started to shiver. I got up, checked the radiator and it was ice cold. I put on some clothes and headed to the bathroom. After slowly managing to sit on the ice throne, I took a leak, washed my hands and headed for the heater. It displayed a warning code. 005. After a 2 minute google search I managed to find out what it stood for. No gas. Shit. They cut our gas.
I had been attending university for 6 years now and it was no longer a joke. My parents had stopped paying my rent or even the scary big gas bill. It was fucking January. And gas prices were off the roof. As always.
I earned a living working as an English tutor for a couple years. The first week of December 2088 went okay, but money was spent on new years. I was getting paid cash after every class, so I had no idea how much I would earn in a month until the month was over.
Unknowingly, I spent money, thinking class would continue or even increase during holidays, as I was used to from former students.
Oh boy, I was wrong. No class till mid february. No money till mid february.
So I had spent new years with friends, not my family. So they realized that they have become the victim of their own choice to lie to me all my life. I had distanced myself from them and did not need them anymore. Except, I needed cash. Oh so independent.
But then, a miracle happened. My credit card arrived. First one I ever owned. I am 24 years old and online shopping was very limited for me.
I not only got the gas back on, I bought a new heater for more pleasant showers without temperature flactuations.
I got a job earning 7k a month, working 15h a week as an english tutor.
I was able to get myself a new computer and phone after 5 years. Do you know how fast technology evolves nowadays? My old phone had a 3d screen , the new one can teleport me, even to the mars colony.
One night, while trying to sleep, I suddenly had a complete picture for an outline for my senior thesis in my head. I spent all night and wrote part of the intro and found research material.
And the other day, all the problems me and my boyfriend had resolved.
Then that phone call. My mom.
-How are you kuwairo?
-Actually I couldn't ask for more. All is well.
-I am glad you are happy. Happy New year. This is from all of us to you.
-What is, mom? I didn't get it.
-Your gift from all of us. And from the council.
-What are you talking about? I can't seem to follow.
-Oh, your new and easy life. Your happiness. Our gift to you. We put our trust in you.
-Have you had me get the job?
-No, you did that by yourself. But you were, let's say, handicapped before.
-How so?
-Oh I was hoping we would have this conversation one day. I always believed in you.
-Mom! Get to the point, please. No time for riddles. I am a busy person now.
-The government conducts an experiment on all newborn babies. Those with high iq's live life by the hardest stage. The ones with a low iq, live life in Easy mode. It is to establish full equality. That is how there is no rich or poor. Or rather, barely any poor. You were quite an exception.
Have you ever asked yourself if your life is harder than those of others? Have you felt odd, unique, or special, because of that? Feeling aware of all?
Well. There is so much you don't know. You were the smartest kid born your decade. So they asked our permission to make your level harder. Harder than any life before.
-How is that possible and why do something like that? How could you do that?
-Research. And every member of the union is obliged to offer their self to science. We thought you could cope with it, the harder life. You would be so strong. You would have an amazing character and also be qualified to become president.
- What the hell? What kind of parenting is this?
-You will be living life in Easy mode from now on. You got the taste of it, and loved it. Now it is so much more valuable for you.
-But why?
-Because society is scared of smart people. They tend to use others for their own gain, they can make an impact more than anyone else. So they are put through a test. If they treat people of all IQ's, ages, races, genders and backgrounds equally, they can start living life in Easy mode. And you did that. You proved you deserve to live life like this.
We had no choice.
To be continued l. | Another rejection notice. Sighing in defeat I tossed it in the trash with the others. I knew finding a job would be hard but not this hard. 46 applications and so far 46 rejections. I had applied to everything I could think of from retail to salesman to fast-food. But nope. Just like every thing else in life no matter how hard I try I failed. My old man always said "As long as you try your hardest you can never fail." Tell that to my grades, collage, my driving tests, my friends, literally any thing I have ever tried. I always seemed to fail somehow.
Bzzt. Bzzt.
My phone vibrates. Odd. Who could be calling me at this hour? Must just be a sales call. I fish out my phone to see who it is. I mean it can't hurt to look.
Mom?
Why would she call me? We haven't talked in years. Not since I moved to collage, well the only one that would accept me anyway. I am hesitant. What will she say? I decided to answer if only to hear her voice. And am rewarded with nothing but silence. Then from the other end a nervous "Hello?" It's my mom's voice I would recognize it any were.
"Mom?" I reply. Completely clueless as to why she was calling.
"I'm sorry ......"she sounds distraught, and on the verge of tears "we should have told you .....we thought you could handle it ......I thought you were handling it."
What is she talking about? "So...." With a little resolve "Your father and I have come to a decision ......and we have decided that you have been through enough hard times .....so we decided to change it make things easier on you."
From that I day forward something changed in me. Maybe I had a change of mind or new motivation or something like that. But regardless from that day forth things actually started working out for me. Not everything worked or was easy all the time. But it was world's better than before she called. What ever my parents changed I know they made the right choice.
I just wonder what it was. | |
[WP] Your parents have kept it secret long enough; they can no longer stand your misery. They decide to change your life's difficulty from "Expert" to "Novice". | Character. And I don't mean the drawn-on-a-page, written-in-a-book kind of character. But the kinda of hard-fought and well-earned character that resides deep in your soul and etches impressions of you onto the people you meet. They were trying to build it.
That's what they say at least. Adversity can really help in a construction project like that. I mean how else can you really instill the good qualities that comprise a good person who exhibits good character: integrity, perseverance, loyalty, honesty. How can someone who just glides through an easy life know anything about something like determination or hard work?
They didn't ask me, obviously. They didn't even *tell* me. They just chose. They said to themselves what everyone does when they start a new game. "Can any real satisfaction come from this if it's too easy?" "Isn't the challenge part of the fun?" Of course they didn't ask me anything.
If they had, I might have had a few...counterpoints.
All I have to say now is it didn't build character. But they were trying to build character. The drawn-on-a-page, written-in-a-book, created-in-a-game kind of character. | I just finished my semester in university. Classes greatly increase difficulty as time goes on. I put all of my effort by focusing only in education and managed to get not-bad grades, and sometimes bombing some exams. However, it is hard not look and envy those friends that managed to get a perfect score without much trouble. I keep motivating my self by proclaiming that my field of technology is always on demand.
As the semester ends, I decided to apply for jobs and internships opportunities. My previous jobs were brutally exhausting, quick paced, bad payed and stressful, but having multiple jobs was necessary for my expenses. Fortunately, I was able to survive with a good reputation and met new people, at least I can say that I have something secured. As time goes on, send my resume, do test and interviews, and then I get rejection after rejection, some are polite and nice, but others demoralize me. I talk to my parents about my current situation, sometimes cry and frustrate myself but always recover. I consider whether to use loans to cover my expenses instead of another job as the situation gets stressful.
My social life is not very active, have a hard time making new friends, and barely have time in which I am free. However, I managed to keep a few friends, which are not always the best. Not being able to enjoy a lot due to the situation in life that I had been put to test.
I'm there with my family before the new year starts, remembering the year before entering the new one. I am thankful for what I have and motivated to keep working harder and improve next year.
My parents are amazed that I never lost hope and didn't spoil. The think I have learned all the skills that I needed and built the right personality to be successful, so they decided to finally change my life's difficulty from 'Expert' to 'Novice' without telling me when I was asleep on December 31th.
I wake up to a new year, and with-in that week, I received an offer from one of the most prestigious tech company. I get offered a incredible salary, excellent work-place with expenses included. I couldn't believe it, it took me several days to digest the information and often drain all my energy to the excitement.
As university starts, I go to class everyday and put all of my effort into my education as I always did. But this time something is different. I understand everything with details, and I am able to absorb all the content quickly. My grades go up and I often try to help my partners that can't understand the content. Professors are amazed with my skills.
I was also exposed to new places and activities, this caused that I was able to build new friendships. I was supportive and kind as always. People slowly formed stronger connections with me, and I this time I had time to enjoy myself.
Then I grow up with morals to be a productive and successful being. | |
[WP] Your parents have kept it secret long enough; they can no longer stand your misery. They decide to change your life's difficulty from "Expert" to "Novice". | I was abashed.
I took off my sash.
Threw away my crown.
Took off all of the makeup since I looked like a clown.
Got into my jeans.
They were capris.
And walked in the meadow.
Enjoying the breeze.
Didn't have to work.
Finally divorced Kurt.
And lived on my own.
Finally free to roam. | I just finished my semester in university. Classes greatly increase difficulty as time goes on. I put all of my effort by focusing only in education and managed to get not-bad grades, and sometimes bombing some exams. However, it is hard not look and envy those friends that managed to get a perfect score without much trouble. I keep motivating my self by proclaiming that my field of technology is always on demand.
As the semester ends, I decided to apply for jobs and internships opportunities. My previous jobs were brutally exhausting, quick paced, bad payed and stressful, but having multiple jobs was necessary for my expenses. Fortunately, I was able to survive with a good reputation and met new people, at least I can say that I have something secured. As time goes on, send my resume, do test and interviews, and then I get rejection after rejection, some are polite and nice, but others demoralize me. I talk to my parents about my current situation, sometimes cry and frustrate myself but always recover. I consider whether to use loans to cover my expenses instead of another job as the situation gets stressful.
My social life is not very active, have a hard time making new friends, and barely have time in which I am free. However, I managed to keep a few friends, which are not always the best. Not being able to enjoy a lot due to the situation in life that I had been put to test.
I'm there with my family before the new year starts, remembering the year before entering the new one. I am thankful for what I have and motivated to keep working harder and improve next year.
My parents are amazed that I never lost hope and didn't spoil. The think I have learned all the skills that I needed and built the right personality to be successful, so they decided to finally change my life's difficulty from 'Expert' to 'Novice' without telling me when I was asleep on December 31th.
I wake up to a new year, and with-in that week, I received an offer from one of the most prestigious tech company. I get offered a incredible salary, excellent work-place with expenses included. I couldn't believe it, it took me several days to digest the information and often drain all my energy to the excitement.
As university starts, I go to class everyday and put all of my effort into my education as I always did. But this time something is different. I understand everything with details, and I am able to absorb all the content quickly. My grades go up and I often try to help my partners that can't understand the content. Professors are amazed with my skills.
I was also exposed to new places and activities, this caused that I was able to build new friendships. I was supportive and kind as always. People slowly formed stronger connections with me, and I this time I had time to enjoy myself.
Then I grow up with morals to be a productive and successful being. | |
[WP] Your parents have kept it secret long enough; they can no longer stand your misery. They decide to change your life's difficulty from "Expert" to "Novice". |
“Just stop it! Stop it Alina! Please we beg you!” my mother shouted, tears streaming down her face. Father stood right beside her, his face bewildered, staring straight at me.
My breathing was heavy. I sat there in a puddle of my own blood. I picked up my hand, which was stained with redness and looked at the shard of glass in my hand. I threw my head back and rested it on the pillar beside me, turning my head to look at the broken mug that I had thrown to the ground only moments before. My mind is scattered. I don’t feel like myself. This is not who I am. This is what I have become. I didn’t want to look at what I did to myself, but I had to see, I had to. My eyes glanced towards my mutilated left arm. Blood came spooling out of wounds that I could not see. Hot tears welled up in my eyes. I can’t believe I did this. My sadness turned into rage at the world. The world that has overwhelmingly burdened me and has caused me to swoop so low.
“Please…” mom cried.
She doesn’t understand what it’s like to go through this. My life has been hard since I was born. Challenges thrown at me every which way. Some of those challenges consisting of my domineering psychotic parents.
“We’ll help you,” dad managed to say.
“Yes. Yes we will Alina. We have something magnificent to tell you matter of fact.”
My mind was still clouded by the events that had just taken place. I couldn’t focus over the pounding of my mind telling me to rue the world and my body spilling excessive fluids.
“We’re going to change everything for you Alina.”
Everything?
My dad bent down and was about to grab my hands, but retracted after seeing my bloody arms.
“From the moment you were born we thought you were special. We thought that you could take on the world regardless of the challenges you face. We wanted you to be the strongest most independent person out there…” he said.
“So, we decided that we were going to set your life difficulty level to expert.” Mom continued.
Expert?
“But now Alina,”
Expert?
“Now we can just change that for you. We can make things better.”
Expert?
“Yes. We will go to the court immediately and alter your life difficulty to novice. You’ll be relieved from your misery Alina. Relieved.”
Expert?
So all this time they had the power to…
Expert?
I clenched the shard of glass tighter in my hand and pulled myself up from the sticky blood beneath me.
“Alina…” mom said.
Expert?
I am a fucking expert?
I got up and walked towards the front door, placing my hand on the knob.
Expert?
“Alina get back here right now!”
No. I am an expert, remember.
“Alina!”
I turned the door knob and pulled the door open, and then I turned to my parents, turned to them one last time.
“Fuck you.”
| I just finished my semester in university. Classes greatly increase difficulty as time goes on. I put all of my effort by focusing only in education and managed to get not-bad grades, and sometimes bombing some exams. However, it is hard not look and envy those friends that managed to get a perfect score without much trouble. I keep motivating my self by proclaiming that my field of technology is always on demand.
As the semester ends, I decided to apply for jobs and internships opportunities. My previous jobs were brutally exhausting, quick paced, bad payed and stressful, but having multiple jobs was necessary for my expenses. Fortunately, I was able to survive with a good reputation and met new people, at least I can say that I have something secured. As time goes on, send my resume, do test and interviews, and then I get rejection after rejection, some are polite and nice, but others demoralize me. I talk to my parents about my current situation, sometimes cry and frustrate myself but always recover. I consider whether to use loans to cover my expenses instead of another job as the situation gets stressful.
My social life is not very active, have a hard time making new friends, and barely have time in which I am free. However, I managed to keep a few friends, which are not always the best. Not being able to enjoy a lot due to the situation in life that I had been put to test.
I'm there with my family before the new year starts, remembering the year before entering the new one. I am thankful for what I have and motivated to keep working harder and improve next year.
My parents are amazed that I never lost hope and didn't spoil. The think I have learned all the skills that I needed and built the right personality to be successful, so they decided to finally change my life's difficulty from 'Expert' to 'Novice' without telling me when I was asleep on December 31th.
I wake up to a new year, and with-in that week, I received an offer from one of the most prestigious tech company. I get offered a incredible salary, excellent work-place with expenses included. I couldn't believe it, it took me several days to digest the information and often drain all my energy to the excitement.
As university starts, I go to class everyday and put all of my effort into my education as I always did. But this time something is different. I understand everything with details, and I am able to absorb all the content quickly. My grades go up and I often try to help my partners that can't understand the content. Professors are amazed with my skills.
I was also exposed to new places and activities, this caused that I was able to build new friendships. I was supportive and kind as always. People slowly formed stronger connections with me, and I this time I had time to enjoy myself.
Then I grow up with morals to be a productive and successful being. | |
[WP] Your parents have kept it secret long enough; they can no longer stand your misery. They decide to change your life's difficulty from "Expert" to "Novice". | I opened my eyes and saw the christmas light's reflection on the mirror by the bed. The room was cold, I had slept in a shirt and started to shiver. I got up, checked the radiator and it was ice cold. I put on some clothes and headed to the bathroom. After slowly managing to sit on the ice throne, I took a leak, washed my hands and headed for the heater. It displayed a warning code. 005. After a 2 minute google search I managed to find out what it stood for. No gas. Shit. They cut our gas.
I had been attending university for 6 years now and it was no longer a joke. My parents had stopped paying my rent or even the scary big gas bill. It was fucking January. And gas prices were off the roof. As always.
I earned a living working as an English tutor for a couple years. The first week of December 2088 went okay, but money was spent on new years. I was getting paid cash after every class, so I had no idea how much I would earn in a month until the month was over.
Unknowingly, I spent money, thinking class would continue or even increase during holidays, as I was used to from former students.
Oh boy, I was wrong. No class till mid february. No money till mid february.
So I had spent new years with friends, not my family. So they realized that they have become the victim of their own choice to lie to me all my life. I had distanced myself from them and did not need them anymore. Except, I needed cash. Oh so independent.
But then, a miracle happened. My credit card arrived. First one I ever owned. I am 24 years old and online shopping was very limited for me.
I not only got the gas back on, I bought a new heater for more pleasant showers without temperature flactuations.
I got a job earning 7k a month, working 15h a week as an english tutor.
I was able to get myself a new computer and phone after 5 years. Do you know how fast technology evolves nowadays? My old phone had a 3d screen , the new one can teleport me, even to the mars colony.
One night, while trying to sleep, I suddenly had a complete picture for an outline for my senior thesis in my head. I spent all night and wrote part of the intro and found research material.
And the other day, all the problems me and my boyfriend had resolved.
Then that phone call. My mom.
-How are you kuwairo?
-Actually I couldn't ask for more. All is well.
-I am glad you are happy. Happy New year. This is from all of us to you.
-What is, mom? I didn't get it.
-Your gift from all of us. And from the council.
-What are you talking about? I can't seem to follow.
-Oh, your new and easy life. Your happiness. Our gift to you. We put our trust in you.
-Have you had me get the job?
-No, you did that by yourself. But you were, let's say, handicapped before.
-How so?
-Oh I was hoping we would have this conversation one day. I always believed in you.
-Mom! Get to the point, please. No time for riddles. I am a busy person now.
-The government conducts an experiment on all newborn babies. Those with high iq's live life by the hardest stage. The ones with a low iq, live life in Easy mode. It is to establish full equality. That is how there is no rich or poor. Or rather, barely any poor. You were quite an exception.
Have you ever asked yourself if your life is harder than those of others? Have you felt odd, unique, or special, because of that? Feeling aware of all?
Well. There is so much you don't know. You were the smartest kid born your decade. So they asked our permission to make your level harder. Harder than any life before.
-How is that possible and why do something like that? How could you do that?
-Research. And every member of the union is obliged to offer their self to science. We thought you could cope with it, the harder life. You would be so strong. You would have an amazing character and also be qualified to become president.
- What the hell? What kind of parenting is this?
-You will be living life in Easy mode from now on. You got the taste of it, and loved it. Now it is so much more valuable for you.
-But why?
-Because society is scared of smart people. They tend to use others for their own gain, they can make an impact more than anyone else. So they are put through a test. If they treat people of all IQ's, ages, races, genders and backgrounds equally, they can start living life in Easy mode. And you did that. You proved you deserve to live life like this.
We had no choice.
To be continued l. | I just finished my semester in university. Classes greatly increase difficulty as time goes on. I put all of my effort by focusing only in education and managed to get not-bad grades, and sometimes bombing some exams. However, it is hard not look and envy those friends that managed to get a perfect score without much trouble. I keep motivating my self by proclaiming that my field of technology is always on demand.
As the semester ends, I decided to apply for jobs and internships opportunities. My previous jobs were brutally exhausting, quick paced, bad payed and stressful, but having multiple jobs was necessary for my expenses. Fortunately, I was able to survive with a good reputation and met new people, at least I can say that I have something secured. As time goes on, send my resume, do test and interviews, and then I get rejection after rejection, some are polite and nice, but others demoralize me. I talk to my parents about my current situation, sometimes cry and frustrate myself but always recover. I consider whether to use loans to cover my expenses instead of another job as the situation gets stressful.
My social life is not very active, have a hard time making new friends, and barely have time in which I am free. However, I managed to keep a few friends, which are not always the best. Not being able to enjoy a lot due to the situation in life that I had been put to test.
I'm there with my family before the new year starts, remembering the year before entering the new one. I am thankful for what I have and motivated to keep working harder and improve next year.
My parents are amazed that I never lost hope and didn't spoil. The think I have learned all the skills that I needed and built the right personality to be successful, so they decided to finally change my life's difficulty from 'Expert' to 'Novice' without telling me when I was asleep on December 31th.
I wake up to a new year, and with-in that week, I received an offer from one of the most prestigious tech company. I get offered a incredible salary, excellent work-place with expenses included. I couldn't believe it, it took me several days to digest the information and often drain all my energy to the excitement.
As university starts, I go to class everyday and put all of my effort into my education as I always did. But this time something is different. I understand everything with details, and I am able to absorb all the content quickly. My grades go up and I often try to help my partners that can't understand the content. Professors are amazed with my skills.
I was also exposed to new places and activities, this caused that I was able to build new friendships. I was supportive and kind as always. People slowly formed stronger connections with me, and I this time I had time to enjoy myself.
Then I grow up with morals to be a productive and successful being. | |
[WP] Your parents have kept it secret long enough; they can no longer stand your misery. They decide to change your life's difficulty from "Expert" to "Novice". | Alex moved to the city to become an architectural engineer. He was certainly capable of learning everything he would need on his own, but he needed the an official degree and a license to get the jobs he wanted. Alex’s dream was to design his own city.
On his first day in the city, he bought a plot of land five miles from campus with money he had saved up from collecting recyclables every day. He cut down the trees on it and made himself a rough log cabin in a few hours. Classes didn’t start for a week. By the time they did, he was living in a two-story wooden house with plumbing and electricity hooked up.
Every day at five A.M., Alex woke up, made a three-course breakfast for himself, and then ran to campus. He missed taking care of the farm animals like home, but he supposed sacrifices had to be made.
His classes were populated by novices. They were bright, smiling schoolchildren, with not an ounce of sweat or muscle between them. They disgusted him, but he did his best to smile through it.
Each class was a mixture of practical and theoretical exercises.
He studied theory night and day, sleeping in the library, only to wake up, run five miles home for breakfast, and run back in time for class. Everything was a struggle, as it had been his whole life, and he pushed through the pain. There was no other way. He had a far better grasp of the principles than anyone in the class.
For the practical exercises, he was assigned to a team with three other students. Jack, Melissa, and Barb all gave their names when they were paired up. He shook their limp hands and introduced himself only as their better. And he proved it.
For each exercise, his three teammates were left on the sidelines as his mighty efforts yielded top-of-the-line projects. A pinball machine with anti-magnetic paddles to propel the ball. A crystal fountain that could be switched into fire hydrant mode in an emergency. A stadium made from popsicle sticks that could survive being hit by a car.
But as the year went on, he struggled to keep up. Each competition was one against four, and the other teams had their own wonderful creations. The last straw was when his stadium lost a competition to another group that made self-cleaning sink/baking soda volcano that was a shout out to their favorite professor’s favorite science fair project.
Why should he care what their professor liked? What was the point of something that cleaned itself? You were only missing out on a few hours scrubbing. That was nothing to Alex.
He added an upper level chemistry course to his workload in the middle of term, assuring his class advisor that he could handle it. There was no way he was going to miss the chance to add chemical reactions to his project, now that the novices had given him the idea. But the lessons he joined built on weeks of knowledge he didn’t have. He had struggled for his whole life. For the first time he was reaching his limits.
Alex was laying on his workshop floor, staring at the ceiling, when Barb came by.
“Jack thought you might want a little help.” She showed him a sketch of a Rube Goldberg machine, totally different from the cannon he was working on.
Alex’s head was dizzy from fumes of the chemicals he had been mixing. If he had been in his right mind, he would have shouted down her questioning of his abilities. Instead he weakly nodded, and immediately left the lab.
“Mom?” Alex paced back and forth, phone to his ear. He didn’t like feeling unable to keep up. His parents had always pushed him, and he knew that he could count on them to do it again. He would get stronger, strong enough to do everything alone.
After he explained the situation, and his moment of weakness in allowing the girl to help him, his mother was silent for a long moment.
“Your father had a brother growing up.” Alex frowned, wondering why he had never heard about an uncle.
“He lived on the expert difficulty, like you chose to.”
“Can I talk to him? I mean, it’s not like I need help. But if I know what he did, I can learn to do it too.”
“No, you can’t. He died when you were very small.”
“He died?? How?” It was a ridiculous thought. Novice doctors faced the same level of challenge as someone playing Operation.
“He insisted on performing his own surgery, without anesthesia. He passed out while stitching himself up and bled to death. If he had had anyone assisting him, they would have been able to call for help. We never even found out he was injured until we got the call that he had died.”
Alex didn’t know what to say. The brief thought passed his mind that maybe his uncle just hadn’t been good enough for expert level. The pain in his mother’s voice prevented him from voicing that thought, however.
“Listen, your father and I had reservations when you chose expert level. It can push you to become stronger, but it also isolates you. Cooperation is another kind of strength.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“No, you’ll try it. We’ve never forced the issue before, but we can change the setting for you. Try out Novice level until the end of the semester, and if you want to go back to Expert after that, we’ll let you.”
“Mom!”
“I have to go, honey. I love you.” She hung up.
Alex the Novice joined his classmates in presenting a Rube Goldberg machine, with the first piece launched by a rocket, in the next competition. They won.
He looked at the smiles on his teammates’ faces and felt his Expert reserve crack. This wasn’t so bad. Not bad at all.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
9/365. Constructive criticism welcome and appreciated. | I just finished my semester in university. Classes greatly increase difficulty as time goes on. I put all of my effort by focusing only in education and managed to get not-bad grades, and sometimes bombing some exams. However, it is hard not look and envy those friends that managed to get a perfect score without much trouble. I keep motivating my self by proclaiming that my field of technology is always on demand.
As the semester ends, I decided to apply for jobs and internships opportunities. My previous jobs were brutally exhausting, quick paced, bad payed and stressful, but having multiple jobs was necessary for my expenses. Fortunately, I was able to survive with a good reputation and met new people, at least I can say that I have something secured. As time goes on, send my resume, do test and interviews, and then I get rejection after rejection, some are polite and nice, but others demoralize me. I talk to my parents about my current situation, sometimes cry and frustrate myself but always recover. I consider whether to use loans to cover my expenses instead of another job as the situation gets stressful.
My social life is not very active, have a hard time making new friends, and barely have time in which I am free. However, I managed to keep a few friends, which are not always the best. Not being able to enjoy a lot due to the situation in life that I had been put to test.
I'm there with my family before the new year starts, remembering the year before entering the new one. I am thankful for what I have and motivated to keep working harder and improve next year.
My parents are amazed that I never lost hope and didn't spoil. The think I have learned all the skills that I needed and built the right personality to be successful, so they decided to finally change my life's difficulty from 'Expert' to 'Novice' without telling me when I was asleep on December 31th.
I wake up to a new year, and with-in that week, I received an offer from one of the most prestigious tech company. I get offered a incredible salary, excellent work-place with expenses included. I couldn't believe it, it took me several days to digest the information and often drain all my energy to the excitement.
As university starts, I go to class everyday and put all of my effort into my education as I always did. But this time something is different. I understand everything with details, and I am able to absorb all the content quickly. My grades go up and I often try to help my partners that can't understand the content. Professors are amazed with my skills.
I was also exposed to new places and activities, this caused that I was able to build new friendships. I was supportive and kind as always. People slowly formed stronger connections with me, and I this time I had time to enjoy myself.
Then I grow up with morals to be a productive and successful being. | |
[WP] Your parents have kept it secret long enough; they can no longer stand your misery. They decide to change your life's difficulty from "Expert" to "Novice". | When I got out of bed, I was surprised to see the shelf's empty and boxes thrown about the floor. But as I wondered my still throbbing head stole my attention. At least I could eat again without throwing up, so I went outside, pumped water from the well and threw it on the primitive stove to boil away parasites. As I was contemplating how shitty it will be to walk to school like this my mother walked in. "What's with the boxes?" I query while preparing the rock hard "bread" that I called a meal. In awkward tone tone she replied "Your father and I have been talking, and we have decided to move. We moved here so you would grow up with strong, but this past week has changed our minds. Character is means nothing if you die from the lack of health care here, so we are moving for your safety." After chugging down my sandy water I ask in a inquisitive tone "Where are we moving to?" To which she responds, "America".
| I just finished my semester in university. Classes greatly increase difficulty as time goes on. I put all of my effort by focusing only in education and managed to get not-bad grades, and sometimes bombing some exams. However, it is hard not look and envy those friends that managed to get a perfect score without much trouble. I keep motivating my self by proclaiming that my field of technology is always on demand.
As the semester ends, I decided to apply for jobs and internships opportunities. My previous jobs were brutally exhausting, quick paced, bad payed and stressful, but having multiple jobs was necessary for my expenses. Fortunately, I was able to survive with a good reputation and met new people, at least I can say that I have something secured. As time goes on, send my resume, do test and interviews, and then I get rejection after rejection, some are polite and nice, but others demoralize me. I talk to my parents about my current situation, sometimes cry and frustrate myself but always recover. I consider whether to use loans to cover my expenses instead of another job as the situation gets stressful.
My social life is not very active, have a hard time making new friends, and barely have time in which I am free. However, I managed to keep a few friends, which are not always the best. Not being able to enjoy a lot due to the situation in life that I had been put to test.
I'm there with my family before the new year starts, remembering the year before entering the new one. I am thankful for what I have and motivated to keep working harder and improve next year.
My parents are amazed that I never lost hope and didn't spoil. The think I have learned all the skills that I needed and built the right personality to be successful, so they decided to finally change my life's difficulty from 'Expert' to 'Novice' without telling me when I was asleep on December 31th.
I wake up to a new year, and with-in that week, I received an offer from one of the most prestigious tech company. I get offered a incredible salary, excellent work-place with expenses included. I couldn't believe it, it took me several days to digest the information and often drain all my energy to the excitement.
As university starts, I go to class everyday and put all of my effort into my education as I always did. But this time something is different. I understand everything with details, and I am able to absorb all the content quickly. My grades go up and I often try to help my partners that can't understand the content. Professors are amazed with my skills.
I was also exposed to new places and activities, this caused that I was able to build new friendships. I was supportive and kind as always. People slowly formed stronger connections with me, and I this time I had time to enjoy myself.
Then I grow up with morals to be a productive and successful being. | |
[WP] Your parents have kept it secret long enough; they can no longer stand your misery. They decide to change your life's difficulty from "Expert" to "Novice". | He stared at the ceiling of the hospital room unable to quite drink in what his mother had just said. A difficulty slider? And why would she be so cruel to max it out? He had barely scraped by high school, and been forced to leave his job as a mechanic. He had depression, anxiety, and intrusive thoughts. He couldn't even commit to a single possible career.
"I'll be setting it to novice now," his mother said. The words wounded his pride. "I should have seen the signs that you couldn't handle this after they let you go." A knife twisted in the wound.
It was a week before the doctors deemed him fit to go home. His hands were starting to move like they did before he had been admitted. His mother picked him up and the drive home was silent. He resented that someone he had trusted had been so needlessly cruel. They got into the house and she showed him his slider. He tried to adjust it just one notch down, he could handle that much he was sure, but it seemed only she could interact with it.
"Only the summoner can touch it," She said, "and only one person has permission to summon it at a time. I'll give it to you once you get your life together."
He hadn't expected the immediate changes as she slid the slider down and dispelled it. Immediately he shrank two inches. It felt like falling. He notice his shirt start to tent out as a pressured grew on his chest. It wasn't long before he had two fully formed breasts. He felt similar sensations all over her body as her proportions shifted and he became female.
He couldn't quite comprehend what had happened. Even with the slight boost to intelligence. He had been told his whole life that women have it harder, so why was he a girl now? He acted horrified at the changes. His mother couldn't even explain why it had happened. He excused himself to his room saying he was going to do research.
He closed the door and slumped to the ground. He wasn't really horrified this had happened to him. His head was spinning with the change, but it wasn't cloudy by an oncoming panic attack, or even just the usual haze of depression. He had wanted something like this his whole life. He knew about trans people, but he had been unable to draw the line between them and his desire to be a woman. After he liked girls!
*Fine if I'm a woman then I'll need a name*, she thought. Perhaps Zoe. She was nervous and excited for the future, for the first time ever. But before she could truly begin making plans she wanted to get a look at her self in the mirror. Her baggy old boy clothes did a lot to hide her form, but she thought she was pretty naturally cute. She didn't think she had been unattractive as a guy, but she knew she'd be much happier to see this face in the mirror for the rest of her life.
She wondered what life would be like on easy. Would it get boring? She knew that she'd deal with that if turning up the difficulty would take away her womanhood.
edit: if this describes a fantasy you have then please feel free to message me about that. | I just finished my semester in university. Classes greatly increase difficulty as time goes on. I put all of my effort by focusing only in education and managed to get not-bad grades, and sometimes bombing some exams. However, it is hard not look and envy those friends that managed to get a perfect score without much trouble. I keep motivating my self by proclaiming that my field of technology is always on demand.
As the semester ends, I decided to apply for jobs and internships opportunities. My previous jobs were brutally exhausting, quick paced, bad payed and stressful, but having multiple jobs was necessary for my expenses. Fortunately, I was able to survive with a good reputation and met new people, at least I can say that I have something secured. As time goes on, send my resume, do test and interviews, and then I get rejection after rejection, some are polite and nice, but others demoralize me. I talk to my parents about my current situation, sometimes cry and frustrate myself but always recover. I consider whether to use loans to cover my expenses instead of another job as the situation gets stressful.
My social life is not very active, have a hard time making new friends, and barely have time in which I am free. However, I managed to keep a few friends, which are not always the best. Not being able to enjoy a lot due to the situation in life that I had been put to test.
I'm there with my family before the new year starts, remembering the year before entering the new one. I am thankful for what I have and motivated to keep working harder and improve next year.
My parents are amazed that I never lost hope and didn't spoil. The think I have learned all the skills that I needed and built the right personality to be successful, so they decided to finally change my life's difficulty from 'Expert' to 'Novice' without telling me when I was asleep on December 31th.
I wake up to a new year, and with-in that week, I received an offer from one of the most prestigious tech company. I get offered a incredible salary, excellent work-place with expenses included. I couldn't believe it, it took me several days to digest the information and often drain all my energy to the excitement.
As university starts, I go to class everyday and put all of my effort into my education as I always did. But this time something is different. I understand everything with details, and I am able to absorb all the content quickly. My grades go up and I often try to help my partners that can't understand the content. Professors are amazed with my skills.
I was also exposed to new places and activities, this caused that I was able to build new friendships. I was supportive and kind as always. People slowly formed stronger connections with me, and I this time I had time to enjoy myself.
Then I grow up with morals to be a productive and successful being. | |
[WP] Your parents have kept it secret long enough; they can no longer stand your misery. They decide to change your life's difficulty from "Expert" to "Novice". | "We decided it was time you knew." said my mother.
"Knew what?" I asked.
She and my father locked eyes for a moment, before looking back at me.
"We saw how hard you strugged this last few months sweetie."
I felt tears trying to escape my eyes.
"But we thought we did the right thing by not telling you." My father added "We thought it would help you build character."
"And when you were diagnosed you were just seven, you wouldn't understand at that age." My mother explained
"And look how far you have gotten!" said my father and he spread his arms out. I saw a tiny speck of red on his skin peering from under his sleeve. I figured he scratched himself on a nail while working on the shed the other day.
"I mean you got good grades in high school, and even got into college. And when you dropped out... I mean... You started your own buisness! You always soldier on."
I nodded. I felt confused.
"What is going on?" I asked. "Why did mom say I got diagnosed when I was seven? -Wait a minute, I remember being in a room with a one way mirror, and a lady came to play with me. Was that it?"
My parents avoided my eyes, and my mother was fumbling with the tassels on a trow pillow.
"Yes" she said in a skreeking voice. "We should have told you sooner. Honey you have Atention Deficit Disorder."
"Yes, thank you Robert, I will senot them to you tomorrow. Ok, goodbye. Yes. Bye."
I hang up the phone.
I smile.
I just sold fifty shirts I designed to a local store.
I am so happy.
Buisness is booming for me.
And to think six months ago I went nearly bankrupt.
I was always working, busy all the time, but I just never knew what the hell I was doing. I was just running around like a headless chicken, no sense of direction, blind panick, and the constant feeling that I should just keep going.
All the years of my life I felt that I just needed to try harder, all those times I hit the same walls. I could never finish a project, always starting new things. I would always loose my stuff. Forget important meetings. And I had dropped out of college because I felt overwhelmed, and I would always do my assignments last minute, no matter how often I had told myself to start earlier.
If only I had known that it was not my fault. It wasn't. I did try hard enough.
Seeing a therapist and taking medication has changed my life dramatically.
I actually feel happy every now and then. | I just finished my semester in university. Classes greatly increase difficulty as time goes on. I put all of my effort by focusing only in education and managed to get not-bad grades, and sometimes bombing some exams. However, it is hard not look and envy those friends that managed to get a perfect score without much trouble. I keep motivating my self by proclaiming that my field of technology is always on demand.
As the semester ends, I decided to apply for jobs and internships opportunities. My previous jobs were brutally exhausting, quick paced, bad payed and stressful, but having multiple jobs was necessary for my expenses. Fortunately, I was able to survive with a good reputation and met new people, at least I can say that I have something secured. As time goes on, send my resume, do test and interviews, and then I get rejection after rejection, some are polite and nice, but others demoralize me. I talk to my parents about my current situation, sometimes cry and frustrate myself but always recover. I consider whether to use loans to cover my expenses instead of another job as the situation gets stressful.
My social life is not very active, have a hard time making new friends, and barely have time in which I am free. However, I managed to keep a few friends, which are not always the best. Not being able to enjoy a lot due to the situation in life that I had been put to test.
I'm there with my family before the new year starts, remembering the year before entering the new one. I am thankful for what I have and motivated to keep working harder and improve next year.
My parents are amazed that I never lost hope and didn't spoil. The think I have learned all the skills that I needed and built the right personality to be successful, so they decided to finally change my life's difficulty from 'Expert' to 'Novice' without telling me when I was asleep on December 31th.
I wake up to a new year, and with-in that week, I received an offer from one of the most prestigious tech company. I get offered a incredible salary, excellent work-place with expenses included. I couldn't believe it, it took me several days to digest the information and often drain all my energy to the excitement.
As university starts, I go to class everyday and put all of my effort into my education as I always did. But this time something is different. I understand everything with details, and I am able to absorb all the content quickly. My grades go up and I often try to help my partners that can't understand the content. Professors are amazed with my skills.
I was also exposed to new places and activities, this caused that I was able to build new friendships. I was supportive and kind as always. People slowly formed stronger connections with me, and I this time I had time to enjoy myself.
Then I grow up with morals to be a productive and successful being. | |
[WP] Your parents have kept it secret long enough; they can no longer stand your misery. They decide to change your life's difficulty from "Expert" to "Novice". | Alex moved to the city to become an architectural engineer. He was certainly capable of learning everything he would need on his own, but he needed the an official degree and a license to get the jobs he wanted. Alex’s dream was to design his own city.
On his first day in the city, he bought a plot of land five miles from campus with money he had saved up from collecting recyclables every day. He cut down the trees on it and made himself a rough log cabin in a few hours. Classes didn’t start for a week. By the time they did, he was living in a two-story wooden house with plumbing and electricity hooked up.
Every day at five A.M., Alex woke up, made a three-course breakfast for himself, and then ran to campus. He missed taking care of the farm animals like home, but he supposed sacrifices had to be made.
His classes were populated by novices. They were bright, smiling schoolchildren, with not an ounce of sweat or muscle between them. They disgusted him, but he did his best to smile through it.
Each class was a mixture of practical and theoretical exercises.
He studied theory night and day, sleeping in the library, only to wake up, run five miles home for breakfast, and run back in time for class. Everything was a struggle, as it had been his whole life, and he pushed through the pain. There was no other way. He had a far better grasp of the principles than anyone in the class.
For the practical exercises, he was assigned to a team with three other students. Jack, Melissa, and Barb all gave their names when they were paired up. He shook their limp hands and introduced himself only as their better. And he proved it.
For each exercise, his three teammates were left on the sidelines as his mighty efforts yielded top-of-the-line projects. A pinball machine with anti-magnetic paddles to propel the ball. A crystal fountain that could be switched into fire hydrant mode in an emergency. A stadium made from popsicle sticks that could survive being hit by a car.
But as the year went on, he struggled to keep up. Each competition was one against four, and the other teams had their own wonderful creations. The last straw was when his stadium lost a competition to another group that made self-cleaning sink/baking soda volcano that was a shout out to their favorite professor’s favorite science fair project.
Why should he care what their professor liked? What was the point of something that cleaned itself? You were only missing out on a few hours scrubbing. That was nothing to Alex.
He added an upper level chemistry course to his workload in the middle of term, assuring his class advisor that he could handle it. There was no way he was going to miss the chance to add chemical reactions to his project, now that the novices had given him the idea. But the lessons he joined built on weeks of knowledge he didn’t have. He had struggled for his whole life. For the first time he was reaching his limits.
Alex was laying on his workshop floor, staring at the ceiling, when Barb came by.
“Jack thought you might want a little help.” She showed him a sketch of a Rube Goldberg machine, totally different from the cannon he was working on.
Alex’s head was dizzy from fumes of the chemicals he had been mixing. If he had been in his right mind, he would have shouted down her questioning of his abilities. Instead he weakly nodded, and immediately left the lab.
“Mom?” Alex paced back and forth, phone to his ear. He didn’t like feeling unable to keep up. His parents had always pushed him, and he knew that he could count on them to do it again. He would get stronger, strong enough to do everything alone.
After he explained the situation, and his moment of weakness in allowing the girl to help him, his mother was silent for a long moment.
“Your father had a brother growing up.” Alex frowned, wondering why he had never heard about an uncle.
“He lived on the expert difficulty, like you chose to.”
“Can I talk to him? I mean, it’s not like I need help. But if I know what he did, I can learn to do it too.”
“No, you can’t. He died when you were very small.”
“He died?? How?” It was a ridiculous thought. Novice doctors faced the same level of challenge as someone playing Operation.
“He insisted on performing his own surgery, without anesthesia. He passed out while stitching himself up and bled to death. If he had had anyone assisting him, they would have been able to call for help. We never even found out he was injured until we got the call that he had died.”
Alex didn’t know what to say. The brief thought passed his mind that maybe his uncle just hadn’t been good enough for expert level. The pain in his mother’s voice prevented him from voicing that thought, however.
“Listen, your father and I had reservations when you chose expert level. It can push you to become stronger, but it also isolates you. Cooperation is another kind of strength.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“No, you’ll try it. We’ve never forced the issue before, but we can change the setting for you. Try out Novice level until the end of the semester, and if you want to go back to Expert after that, we’ll let you.”
“Mom!”
“I have to go, honey. I love you.” She hung up.
Alex the Novice joined his classmates in presenting a Rube Goldberg machine, with the first piece launched by a rocket, in the next competition. They won.
He looked at the smiles on his teammates’ faces and felt his Expert reserve crack. This wasn’t so bad. Not bad at all.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
9/365. Constructive criticism welcome and appreciated. | Character. And I don't mean the drawn-on-a-page, written-in-a-book kind of character. But the kinda of hard-fought and well-earned character that resides deep in your soul and etches impressions of you onto the people you meet. They were trying to build it.
That's what they say at least. Adversity can really help in a construction project like that. I mean how else can you really instill the good qualities that comprise a good person who exhibits good character: integrity, perseverance, loyalty, honesty. How can someone who just glides through an easy life know anything about something like determination or hard work?
They didn't ask me, obviously. They didn't even *tell* me. They just chose. They said to themselves what everyone does when they start a new game. "Can any real satisfaction come from this if it's too easy?" "Isn't the challenge part of the fun?" Of course they didn't ask me anything.
If they had, I might have had a few...counterpoints.
All I have to say now is it didn't build character. But they were trying to build character. The drawn-on-a-page, written-in-a-book, created-in-a-game kind of character. | |
[WP] Your parents have kept it secret long enough; they can no longer stand your misery. They decide to change your life's difficulty from "Expert" to "Novice". | When I got out of bed, I was surprised to see the shelf's empty and boxes thrown about the floor. But as I wondered my still throbbing head stole my attention. At least I could eat again without throwing up, so I went outside, pumped water from the well and threw it on the primitive stove to boil away parasites. As I was contemplating how shitty it will be to walk to school like this my mother walked in. "What's with the boxes?" I query while preparing the rock hard "bread" that I called a meal. In awkward tone tone she replied "Your father and I have been talking, and we have decided to move. We moved here so you would grow up with strong, but this past week has changed our minds. Character is means nothing if you die from the lack of health care here, so we are moving for your safety." After chugging down my sandy water I ask in a inquisitive tone "Where are we moving to?" To which she responds, "America".
| Character. And I don't mean the drawn-on-a-page, written-in-a-book kind of character. But the kinda of hard-fought and well-earned character that resides deep in your soul and etches impressions of you onto the people you meet. They were trying to build it.
That's what they say at least. Adversity can really help in a construction project like that. I mean how else can you really instill the good qualities that comprise a good person who exhibits good character: integrity, perseverance, loyalty, honesty. How can someone who just glides through an easy life know anything about something like determination or hard work?
They didn't ask me, obviously. They didn't even *tell* me. They just chose. They said to themselves what everyone does when they start a new game. "Can any real satisfaction come from this if it's too easy?" "Isn't the challenge part of the fun?" Of course they didn't ask me anything.
If they had, I might have had a few...counterpoints.
All I have to say now is it didn't build character. But they were trying to build character. The drawn-on-a-page, written-in-a-book, created-in-a-game kind of character. | |
[WP] Your parents have kept it secret long enough; they can no longer stand your misery. They decide to change your life's difficulty from "Expert" to "Novice". | He stared at the ceiling of the hospital room unable to quite drink in what his mother had just said. A difficulty slider? And why would she be so cruel to max it out? He had barely scraped by high school, and been forced to leave his job as a mechanic. He had depression, anxiety, and intrusive thoughts. He couldn't even commit to a single possible career.
"I'll be setting it to novice now," his mother said. The words wounded his pride. "I should have seen the signs that you couldn't handle this after they let you go." A knife twisted in the wound.
It was a week before the doctors deemed him fit to go home. His hands were starting to move like they did before he had been admitted. His mother picked him up and the drive home was silent. He resented that someone he had trusted had been so needlessly cruel. They got into the house and she showed him his slider. He tried to adjust it just one notch down, he could handle that much he was sure, but it seemed only she could interact with it.
"Only the summoner can touch it," She said, "and only one person has permission to summon it at a time. I'll give it to you once you get your life together."
He hadn't expected the immediate changes as she slid the slider down and dispelled it. Immediately he shrank two inches. It felt like falling. He notice his shirt start to tent out as a pressured grew on his chest. It wasn't long before he had two fully formed breasts. He felt similar sensations all over her body as her proportions shifted and he became female.
He couldn't quite comprehend what had happened. Even with the slight boost to intelligence. He had been told his whole life that women have it harder, so why was he a girl now? He acted horrified at the changes. His mother couldn't even explain why it had happened. He excused himself to his room saying he was going to do research.
He closed the door and slumped to the ground. He wasn't really horrified this had happened to him. His head was spinning with the change, but it wasn't cloudy by an oncoming panic attack, or even just the usual haze of depression. He had wanted something like this his whole life. He knew about trans people, but he had been unable to draw the line between them and his desire to be a woman. After he liked girls!
*Fine if I'm a woman then I'll need a name*, she thought. Perhaps Zoe. She was nervous and excited for the future, for the first time ever. But before she could truly begin making plans she wanted to get a look at her self in the mirror. Her baggy old boy clothes did a lot to hide her form, but she thought she was pretty naturally cute. She didn't think she had been unattractive as a guy, but she knew she'd be much happier to see this face in the mirror for the rest of her life.
She wondered what life would be like on easy. Would it get boring? She knew that she'd deal with that if turning up the difficulty would take away her womanhood.
edit: if this describes a fantasy you have then please feel free to message me about that. | Character. And I don't mean the drawn-on-a-page, written-in-a-book kind of character. But the kinda of hard-fought and well-earned character that resides deep in your soul and etches impressions of you onto the people you meet. They were trying to build it.
That's what they say at least. Adversity can really help in a construction project like that. I mean how else can you really instill the good qualities that comprise a good person who exhibits good character: integrity, perseverance, loyalty, honesty. How can someone who just glides through an easy life know anything about something like determination or hard work?
They didn't ask me, obviously. They didn't even *tell* me. They just chose. They said to themselves what everyone does when they start a new game. "Can any real satisfaction come from this if it's too easy?" "Isn't the challenge part of the fun?" Of course they didn't ask me anything.
If they had, I might have had a few...counterpoints.
All I have to say now is it didn't build character. But they were trying to build character. The drawn-on-a-page, written-in-a-book, created-in-a-game kind of character. | |
[WP] Your parents have kept it secret long enough; they can no longer stand your misery. They decide to change your life's difficulty from "Expert" to "Novice". | Alex moved to the city to become an architectural engineer. He was certainly capable of learning everything he would need on his own, but he needed the an official degree and a license to get the jobs he wanted. Alex’s dream was to design his own city.
On his first day in the city, he bought a plot of land five miles from campus with money he had saved up from collecting recyclables every day. He cut down the trees on it and made himself a rough log cabin in a few hours. Classes didn’t start for a week. By the time they did, he was living in a two-story wooden house with plumbing and electricity hooked up.
Every day at five A.M., Alex woke up, made a three-course breakfast for himself, and then ran to campus. He missed taking care of the farm animals like home, but he supposed sacrifices had to be made.
His classes were populated by novices. They were bright, smiling schoolchildren, with not an ounce of sweat or muscle between them. They disgusted him, but he did his best to smile through it.
Each class was a mixture of practical and theoretical exercises.
He studied theory night and day, sleeping in the library, only to wake up, run five miles home for breakfast, and run back in time for class. Everything was a struggle, as it had been his whole life, and he pushed through the pain. There was no other way. He had a far better grasp of the principles than anyone in the class.
For the practical exercises, he was assigned to a team with three other students. Jack, Melissa, and Barb all gave their names when they were paired up. He shook their limp hands and introduced himself only as their better. And he proved it.
For each exercise, his three teammates were left on the sidelines as his mighty efforts yielded top-of-the-line projects. A pinball machine with anti-magnetic paddles to propel the ball. A crystal fountain that could be switched into fire hydrant mode in an emergency. A stadium made from popsicle sticks that could survive being hit by a car.
But as the year went on, he struggled to keep up. Each competition was one against four, and the other teams had their own wonderful creations. The last straw was when his stadium lost a competition to another group that made self-cleaning sink/baking soda volcano that was a shout out to their favorite professor’s favorite science fair project.
Why should he care what their professor liked? What was the point of something that cleaned itself? You were only missing out on a few hours scrubbing. That was nothing to Alex.
He added an upper level chemistry course to his workload in the middle of term, assuring his class advisor that he could handle it. There was no way he was going to miss the chance to add chemical reactions to his project, now that the novices had given him the idea. But the lessons he joined built on weeks of knowledge he didn’t have. He had struggled for his whole life. For the first time he was reaching his limits.
Alex was laying on his workshop floor, staring at the ceiling, when Barb came by.
“Jack thought you might want a little help.” She showed him a sketch of a Rube Goldberg machine, totally different from the cannon he was working on.
Alex’s head was dizzy from fumes of the chemicals he had been mixing. If he had been in his right mind, he would have shouted down her questioning of his abilities. Instead he weakly nodded, and immediately left the lab.
“Mom?” Alex paced back and forth, phone to his ear. He didn’t like feeling unable to keep up. His parents had always pushed him, and he knew that he could count on them to do it again. He would get stronger, strong enough to do everything alone.
After he explained the situation, and his moment of weakness in allowing the girl to help him, his mother was silent for a long moment.
“Your father had a brother growing up.” Alex frowned, wondering why he had never heard about an uncle.
“He lived on the expert difficulty, like you chose to.”
“Can I talk to him? I mean, it’s not like I need help. But if I know what he did, I can learn to do it too.”
“No, you can’t. He died when you were very small.”
“He died?? How?” It was a ridiculous thought. Novice doctors faced the same level of challenge as someone playing Operation.
“He insisted on performing his own surgery, without anesthesia. He passed out while stitching himself up and bled to death. If he had had anyone assisting him, they would have been able to call for help. We never even found out he was injured until we got the call that he had died.”
Alex didn’t know what to say. The brief thought passed his mind that maybe his uncle just hadn’t been good enough for expert level. The pain in his mother’s voice prevented him from voicing that thought, however.
“Listen, your father and I had reservations when you chose expert level. It can push you to become stronger, but it also isolates you. Cooperation is another kind of strength.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“No, you’ll try it. We’ve never forced the issue before, but we can change the setting for you. Try out Novice level until the end of the semester, and if you want to go back to Expert after that, we’ll let you.”
“Mom!”
“I have to go, honey. I love you.” She hung up.
Alex the Novice joined his classmates in presenting a Rube Goldberg machine, with the first piece launched by a rocket, in the next competition. They won.
He looked at the smiles on his teammates’ faces and felt his Expert reserve crack. This wasn’t so bad. Not bad at all.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
9/365. Constructive criticism welcome and appreciated. | I was abashed.
I took off my sash.
Threw away my crown.
Took off all of the makeup since I looked like a clown.
Got into my jeans.
They were capris.
And walked in the meadow.
Enjoying the breeze.
Didn't have to work.
Finally divorced Kurt.
And lived on my own.
Finally free to roam. | |
[WP] Your parents have kept it secret long enough; they can no longer stand your misery. They decide to change your life's difficulty from "Expert" to "Novice". | When I got out of bed, I was surprised to see the shelf's empty and boxes thrown about the floor. But as I wondered my still throbbing head stole my attention. At least I could eat again without throwing up, so I went outside, pumped water from the well and threw it on the primitive stove to boil away parasites. As I was contemplating how shitty it will be to walk to school like this my mother walked in. "What's with the boxes?" I query while preparing the rock hard "bread" that I called a meal. In awkward tone tone she replied "Your father and I have been talking, and we have decided to move. We moved here so you would grow up with strong, but this past week has changed our minds. Character is means nothing if you die from the lack of health care here, so we are moving for your safety." After chugging down my sandy water I ask in a inquisitive tone "Where are we moving to?" To which she responds, "America".
| I was abashed.
I took off my sash.
Threw away my crown.
Took off all of the makeup since I looked like a clown.
Got into my jeans.
They were capris.
And walked in the meadow.
Enjoying the breeze.
Didn't have to work.
Finally divorced Kurt.
And lived on my own.
Finally free to roam. | |
[WP] Your parents have kept it secret long enough; they can no longer stand your misery. They decide to change your life's difficulty from "Expert" to "Novice". | When I got out of bed, I was surprised to see the shelf's empty and boxes thrown about the floor. But as I wondered my still throbbing head stole my attention. At least I could eat again without throwing up, so I went outside, pumped water from the well and threw it on the primitive stove to boil away parasites. As I was contemplating how shitty it will be to walk to school like this my mother walked in. "What's with the boxes?" I query while preparing the rock hard "bread" that I called a meal. In awkward tone tone she replied "Your father and I have been talking, and we have decided to move. We moved here so you would grow up with strong, but this past week has changed our minds. Character is means nothing if you die from the lack of health care here, so we are moving for your safety." After chugging down my sandy water I ask in a inquisitive tone "Where are we moving to?" To which she responds, "America".
| Hello there, I am a man cursed by the gods. Its always been a dream of mine to surpass my hero the demigod Hercules. My childhood, however, was spent almost entirely overcoming obstacle after obstacle and it's a shock to many, myself included, that I am currently the most accomplished adventurer of my generation.
To be honest, I haven't spent my life chasing accolades. I just happen to perpetually find myself in some "less than ideal" situations and I've thrived on the hopelessness they bring with them. Let me paint you a picture.
As a teenager my friend Pythagoras, a creator, invented an inflatable object of unparalleled bounciness he called a "ball". I know, I know, I tried to get him to change the name. It was fantastic to kick around with until I accidentally kicked it into a cave. I went in to retrieve it and guess what --it happened to be a nest of dragons. Long story short, I avoided what should have been certain death by killing nine fire-breathing dragons with a ball.
So anyway, I'm a hopeless idealist and I've never really had a problem with the way my life has gone so far. Until now. An epically beautiful maiden arrived in my town and I fell in love with her instantly. No matter how much I try though she remains disinterested in my advances. I mean come on; the children literally sing ballads of my many, many feats.
Finally I gave up and went to my parents' for a little mental instauration before I went back to my life. Hearing of my troubles and the misery they had brought my mother said to my father;
"I think it's finally time to change the difficulty to novice,"
Of course I had no idea what she was talking about but my father left the room and came back a few minutes later.
"Done!" he proclaimed.
Just then there was a knock on the door. I got up and opened it and who should I find but the maiden who held my heart captive. Before I could find the right word to stutter she lept into my arms and gave me the singular most legendary kiss there had ever been since the beginning of time. | |
[WP] Your parents have kept it secret long enough; they can no longer stand your misery. They decide to change your life's difficulty from "Expert" to "Novice". | My life is a train wreck. I've whiffed on pretty much every aspect of daily existence from work and social life down to my inability to consistently floss.
After a particularly awful day, my mom threw me the lifeline of the century. With the flip of a switch, she changed my difficulty setting from expert to novice.
The next morning, my eyes pop open exactly at 5 a.m. I did not wake up in the middle of the night and feel super rested. After a delicious breakfast, 60 mg of Adderall and two cups of black coffee, I get to the public transit van for the commute to work five minutes early.
Justin volunteers to drive so I hop in the backseat and throw on my meditation app. I crush mindfulness for half an hour. I am the breath moving through my body and there is nothing else.
I get into work and bang out a story about a dude researching the history of wine in Washington State. It takes me like 15 minutes which is stupidly fast. I’m feeling awesome and the goodness keeps coming.
I have a skype interview with my boss Joanna. I ask her how her day is going and for the first time ever Joanna says she is doing great and has some big news.
“What?” I ask.
“I won the Power Ball,” Joanna replies. “$65 million after taxes. I’m out of here in a week and I guess that leaves you in charge.”
I can tell she is giddy at the prospect of quitting her job and so am I. It’s not yet 9 a.m. and my future is looking a hell of a lot brighter.
| Hello there, I am a man cursed by the gods. Its always been a dream of mine to surpass my hero the demigod Hercules. My childhood, however, was spent almost entirely overcoming obstacle after obstacle and it's a shock to many, myself included, that I am currently the most accomplished adventurer of my generation.
To be honest, I haven't spent my life chasing accolades. I just happen to perpetually find myself in some "less than ideal" situations and I've thrived on the hopelessness they bring with them. Let me paint you a picture.
As a teenager my friend Pythagoras, a creator, invented an inflatable object of unparalleled bounciness he called a "ball". I know, I know, I tried to get him to change the name. It was fantastic to kick around with until I accidentally kicked it into a cave. I went in to retrieve it and guess what --it happened to be a nest of dragons. Long story short, I avoided what should have been certain death by killing nine fire-breathing dragons with a ball.
So anyway, I'm a hopeless idealist and I've never really had a problem with the way my life has gone so far. Until now. An epically beautiful maiden arrived in my town and I fell in love with her instantly. No matter how much I try though she remains disinterested in my advances. I mean come on; the children literally sing ballads of my many, many feats.
Finally I gave up and went to my parents' for a little mental instauration before I went back to my life. Hearing of my troubles and the misery they had brought my mother said to my father;
"I think it's finally time to change the difficulty to novice,"
Of course I had no idea what she was talking about but my father left the room and came back a few minutes later.
"Done!" he proclaimed.
Just then there was a knock on the door. I got up and opened it and who should I find but the maiden who held my heart captive. Before I could find the right word to stutter she lept into my arms and gave me the singular most legendary kiss there had ever been since the beginning of time. | |
[WP] Your parents have kept it secret long enough; they can no longer stand your misery. They decide to change your life's difficulty from "Expert" to "Novice". | I couldn't believe that I did it. Something that was just wishful thinking till yesterday was suddenly a reality. Something that was so incomprehensibly difficult till yesterday was like a child's play today. And in a way, it was.
"Look Ma, I did it" I tapped my Mom's shoulder and proudly showed her my shoes. I had tied the strings myself. Just like she did till yesterday. They formed the perfect little knots, like a flower.
My mom said she was so proud of me. She even gave me a cookie. Before dinner! I went to my dad's office. He doesn't like to be disturbed but I thought he would want to hear the good news. Boy was I right. He took eyes of his computer when I called him and actually got off from his chair and ruffled my hair. He said I was on my way of becoming the man of the house. I smiled all the way to my room. I went to my closet. I wanted to try all of them on my own.
But first, I had to take the ones I was wearing. I was scared that the first time was just a fluke and I may not be able to tie them back again. I mustered some courage that I never knew I had and pulled the strings. They came out perfectly. Now I tried on my favorite shoes, the one with cars on them. I took the strings and didn't even have to think about Bunny ears and what goes where. My hand just made the knot. It was magical. I went to my Mom again and showed her. She was visibly excited as me. She looked at me for a while and gave me a kiss on my forehead. no cookie this time but I will take that. I went again to dad's office. He just muttered 'good job' this time. And good job it was. I have never seen such perfect knots on such perfect shoes. I spent the entire evening trying different shoes. I even went for a walk in the yard to see if they come off. None of them did. I took out all of my shoes and began cleaning them as from now on I can wear whichever shoe I want. I was so busy I didn't hear Mum call me for dinner. I only realized it was dinner time when she tapped me up and ask me what I had done to the room. I said I was cleaning my shoes as now I am a grown man, I have to do stuff myself. She didn't say a word during dinner. It was only me talking about my shoes and how I was a grown boy and what I will do tomorrow.
When it was sleeping time Mom came to my room. She kissed me on the forehead and went to turn off the lights. Before she turned off the lights, I saw she flipped the switch from N to E, whatever that is. | Hello there, I am a man cursed by the gods. Its always been a dream of mine to surpass my hero the demigod Hercules. My childhood, however, was spent almost entirely overcoming obstacle after obstacle and it's a shock to many, myself included, that I am currently the most accomplished adventurer of my generation.
To be honest, I haven't spent my life chasing accolades. I just happen to perpetually find myself in some "less than ideal" situations and I've thrived on the hopelessness they bring with them. Let me paint you a picture.
As a teenager my friend Pythagoras, a creator, invented an inflatable object of unparalleled bounciness he called a "ball". I know, I know, I tried to get him to change the name. It was fantastic to kick around with until I accidentally kicked it into a cave. I went in to retrieve it and guess what --it happened to be a nest of dragons. Long story short, I avoided what should have been certain death by killing nine fire-breathing dragons with a ball.
So anyway, I'm a hopeless idealist and I've never really had a problem with the way my life has gone so far. Until now. An epically beautiful maiden arrived in my town and I fell in love with her instantly. No matter how much I try though she remains disinterested in my advances. I mean come on; the children literally sing ballads of my many, many feats.
Finally I gave up and went to my parents' for a little mental instauration before I went back to my life. Hearing of my troubles and the misery they had brought my mother said to my father;
"I think it's finally time to change the difficulty to novice,"
Of course I had no idea what she was talking about but my father left the room and came back a few minutes later.
"Done!" he proclaimed.
Just then there was a knock on the door. I got up and opened it and who should I find but the maiden who held my heart captive. Before I could find the right word to stutter she lept into my arms and gave me the singular most legendary kiss there had ever been since the beginning of time. | |
[WP] Your parents have kept it secret long enough; they can no longer stand your misery. They decide to change your life's difficulty from "Expert" to "Novice". | He stared at the ceiling of the hospital room unable to quite drink in what his mother had just said. A difficulty slider? And why would she be so cruel to max it out? He had barely scraped by high school, and been forced to leave his job as a mechanic. He had depression, anxiety, and intrusive thoughts. He couldn't even commit to a single possible career.
"I'll be setting it to novice now," his mother said. The words wounded his pride. "I should have seen the signs that you couldn't handle this after they let you go." A knife twisted in the wound.
It was a week before the doctors deemed him fit to go home. His hands were starting to move like they did before he had been admitted. His mother picked him up and the drive home was silent. He resented that someone he had trusted had been so needlessly cruel. They got into the house and she showed him his slider. He tried to adjust it just one notch down, he could handle that much he was sure, but it seemed only she could interact with it.
"Only the summoner can touch it," She said, "and only one person has permission to summon it at a time. I'll give it to you once you get your life together."
He hadn't expected the immediate changes as she slid the slider down and dispelled it. Immediately he shrank two inches. It felt like falling. He notice his shirt start to tent out as a pressured grew on his chest. It wasn't long before he had two fully formed breasts. He felt similar sensations all over her body as her proportions shifted and he became female.
He couldn't quite comprehend what had happened. Even with the slight boost to intelligence. He had been told his whole life that women have it harder, so why was he a girl now? He acted horrified at the changes. His mother couldn't even explain why it had happened. He excused himself to his room saying he was going to do research.
He closed the door and slumped to the ground. He wasn't really horrified this had happened to him. His head was spinning with the change, but it wasn't cloudy by an oncoming panic attack, or even just the usual haze of depression. He had wanted something like this his whole life. He knew about trans people, but he had been unable to draw the line between them and his desire to be a woman. After he liked girls!
*Fine if I'm a woman then I'll need a name*, she thought. Perhaps Zoe. She was nervous and excited for the future, for the first time ever. But before she could truly begin making plans she wanted to get a look at her self in the mirror. Her baggy old boy clothes did a lot to hide her form, but she thought she was pretty naturally cute. She didn't think she had been unattractive as a guy, but she knew she'd be much happier to see this face in the mirror for the rest of her life.
She wondered what life would be like on easy. Would it get boring? She knew that she'd deal with that if turning up the difficulty would take away her womanhood.
edit: if this describes a fantasy you have then please feel free to message me about that. | Hello there, I am a man cursed by the gods. Its always been a dream of mine to surpass my hero the demigod Hercules. My childhood, however, was spent almost entirely overcoming obstacle after obstacle and it's a shock to many, myself included, that I am currently the most accomplished adventurer of my generation.
To be honest, I haven't spent my life chasing accolades. I just happen to perpetually find myself in some "less than ideal" situations and I've thrived on the hopelessness they bring with them. Let me paint you a picture.
As a teenager my friend Pythagoras, a creator, invented an inflatable object of unparalleled bounciness he called a "ball". I know, I know, I tried to get him to change the name. It was fantastic to kick around with until I accidentally kicked it into a cave. I went in to retrieve it and guess what --it happened to be a nest of dragons. Long story short, I avoided what should have been certain death by killing nine fire-breathing dragons with a ball.
So anyway, I'm a hopeless idealist and I've never really had a problem with the way my life has gone so far. Until now. An epically beautiful maiden arrived in my town and I fell in love with her instantly. No matter how much I try though she remains disinterested in my advances. I mean come on; the children literally sing ballads of my many, many feats.
Finally I gave up and went to my parents' for a little mental instauration before I went back to my life. Hearing of my troubles and the misery they had brought my mother said to my father;
"I think it's finally time to change the difficulty to novice,"
Of course I had no idea what she was talking about but my father left the room and came back a few minutes later.
"Done!" he proclaimed.
Just then there was a knock on the door. I got up and opened it and who should I find but the maiden who held my heart captive. Before I could find the right word to stutter she lept into my arms and gave me the singular most legendary kiss there had ever been since the beginning of time. | |
[WP] Your parents have kept it secret long enough; they can no longer stand your misery. They decide to change your life's difficulty from "Expert" to "Novice". | "We decided it was time you knew." said my mother.
"Knew what?" I asked.
She and my father locked eyes for a moment, before looking back at me.
"We saw how hard you strugged this last few months sweetie."
I felt tears trying to escape my eyes.
"But we thought we did the right thing by not telling you." My father added "We thought it would help you build character."
"And when you were diagnosed you were just seven, you wouldn't understand at that age." My mother explained
"And look how far you have gotten!" said my father and he spread his arms out. I saw a tiny speck of red on his skin peering from under his sleeve. I figured he scratched himself on a nail while working on the shed the other day.
"I mean you got good grades in high school, and even got into college. And when you dropped out... I mean... You started your own buisness! You always soldier on."
I nodded. I felt confused.
"What is going on?" I asked. "Why did mom say I got diagnosed when I was seven? -Wait a minute, I remember being in a room with a one way mirror, and a lady came to play with me. Was that it?"
My parents avoided my eyes, and my mother was fumbling with the tassels on a trow pillow.
"Yes" she said in a skreeking voice. "We should have told you sooner. Honey you have Atention Deficit Disorder."
"Yes, thank you Robert, I will senot them to you tomorrow. Ok, goodbye. Yes. Bye."
I hang up the phone.
I smile.
I just sold fifty shirts I designed to a local store.
I am so happy.
Buisness is booming for me.
And to think six months ago I went nearly bankrupt.
I was always working, busy all the time, but I just never knew what the hell I was doing. I was just running around like a headless chicken, no sense of direction, blind panick, and the constant feeling that I should just keep going.
All the years of my life I felt that I just needed to try harder, all those times I hit the same walls. I could never finish a project, always starting new things. I would always loose my stuff. Forget important meetings. And I had dropped out of college because I felt overwhelmed, and I would always do my assignments last minute, no matter how often I had told myself to start earlier.
If only I had known that it was not my fault. It wasn't. I did try hard enough.
Seeing a therapist and taking medication has changed my life dramatically.
I actually feel happy every now and then. | Hello there, I am a man cursed by the gods. Its always been a dream of mine to surpass my hero the demigod Hercules. My childhood, however, was spent almost entirely overcoming obstacle after obstacle and it's a shock to many, myself included, that I am currently the most accomplished adventurer of my generation.
To be honest, I haven't spent my life chasing accolades. I just happen to perpetually find myself in some "less than ideal" situations and I've thrived on the hopelessness they bring with them. Let me paint you a picture.
As a teenager my friend Pythagoras, a creator, invented an inflatable object of unparalleled bounciness he called a "ball". I know, I know, I tried to get him to change the name. It was fantastic to kick around with until I accidentally kicked it into a cave. I went in to retrieve it and guess what --it happened to be a nest of dragons. Long story short, I avoided what should have been certain death by killing nine fire-breathing dragons with a ball.
So anyway, I'm a hopeless idealist and I've never really had a problem with the way my life has gone so far. Until now. An epically beautiful maiden arrived in my town and I fell in love with her instantly. No matter how much I try though she remains disinterested in my advances. I mean come on; the children literally sing ballads of my many, many feats.
Finally I gave up and went to my parents' for a little mental instauration before I went back to my life. Hearing of my troubles and the misery they had brought my mother said to my father;
"I think it's finally time to change the difficulty to novice,"
Of course I had no idea what she was talking about but my father left the room and came back a few minutes later.
"Done!" he proclaimed.
Just then there was a knock on the door. I got up and opened it and who should I find but the maiden who held my heart captive. Before I could find the right word to stutter she lept into my arms and gave me the singular most legendary kiss there had ever been since the beginning of time. | |
[WP] Your parents have kept it secret long enough; they can no longer stand your misery. They decide to change your life's difficulty from "Expert" to "Novice". | I opened my weekly med box to Tuesday. Two oblong white pills and one small round blue rattled in the plastic. I considered the drink in my hand. I had been pouring myself a jack and coke when the pill box snuck its way into my periphery, reminding me that I had missed my meds by about an hour. Mom kept asking me to set a daily reminder alarm on my phone. I told her last week that I had, just to get her to stop asking. She liked to call about every other day and, under the guise of small talk, ask gentle prodding questions about my mental stability, waiting for me to tell her what she wanted to hear. So, that's what I've started to do. Yes, Mom, I've set a reminder. Yes, I cooked a meal today instead of ordering. I just saw my friends yesterday. The new job is going wonderfully.
It probably wasn't the best idea to take your crazy pills with alcohol--or any pills for that matter--but by the time the thought had formed I was already raising the glass to my lips. One, two, three sweet firey sips, and there we are. Done. Look, Mom, I did it. Aren't you proud.
I topped off my glass with a bit more fire.
As if on cue, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I half considered ignoring it, but I had already dodged one of her calls this week. "Hey, Mom."
"Hey, darling. How are we doing today?"
If I could be driven crazier than I already was, that would be the way to do it. There's no "we" involved here. It's me, alone, in this stupid tiny apartment that I'm running out of money to pay for, alone with these empty bottles, alone with the lingering smell of stale weed, alone with my head, alone being constricted and seized and fantasizing about what it would be like to smash my skull against a wall so it shattered like an eggshell just to get it to stop. This is me. There's no fucking "we" about it.
"Good. Just took my pills."
"Oh! That's...that's wonderful."
Silence. How strange. For how hard she often has to push me to do so, you'd expect something of an actual reaction.
"Look, honey. I called your store; I thought you'd be working. They said..." She paused, took a breath. I closed my eyes, my heart sinking. "They said that you didn't work there...that they had never heard your name before."
I had nothing to say to that. I had no defense. Of course I hadn't gotten a new job; I hadn't gone out door-knocking like my pulled-up-by-his-bootstraps dad had been encouraging me to do. I clicked through some ads on Craigslist once, but they all wanted a resume, and I needed to update mine, and the more I considered opening the file and seeing my own name heading a list of accomplishments that felt forged by someone who was not me anymore, the idea made my bones heavy and I needed a packed bowl and three shots to make my skin feel like skin again.
Mom continued to fill my silence. "And that worried me, baby, it worried me a lot, so--so, I'm sorry, I just was looking out for you, I just want you to be okay--I messaged Lin--"
My dry throat scratched to life. "You fucking didn't."
"I know, dear, I'm sorry, I'm not trying to make trouble for you, but you lied about your job! Was I meant to just let that go?"
"It sure as hell doesn't invite you to fucking message Lin."
"You said you had made up! That's what you told me. Just like you told me about your job and that you've been going to therapy and that you took your pills today."
"I did take my pills today! Right before you called."
"Is that all you can defend?"
Fuck. I sank down into the couch. My head was still reeling from hearing Lin's name. It had been almost a year. We were still facebook friends since I never used facebook anyway, so no one thought it worthwhile to unfriend me. Occasionally I'd scroll through, see pictures of her and her friends that used to be mine too. Lin, with her hair so black it shone blue in the right light, who sang loudly and off-key, who loved banana milkshakes and mushroom pizza and birds and candles and, for awhile, me. "What did she say?" I asked quietly.
Mom didn't answer, which was probably for the best, but that meant nothing had changed. Lin still hated me. I silently thanked Mom for not verbally confirming it, but my gut twisted into itself anyway. "Honey, I'm so worried about you. I don't know what's happened, but it's gone on far too long. I think...your dad and I have been talking, and we agreed...well, honey, some things are going to be changing for you very soon. Things will be--"
"Changing? The hell is gonna be changing? Are you guys coming here?" My heart suddenly raced in panic as I looked around the rat's nest that was once an apartment. "You don't need to do that, it's such a long trip, you don't need to put yourselves through that."
"I appreciate the concern," she said dryly, like she knew that was not in fact my concern. "But no. Just...your dad and I set you up to live a certain way and that might not have been the right choice. We thought that this would lead to success, not..." She trailed off.
"Not failure, right." Even though I knew for a long time that I had failed at the overall art of personhood, it stung in a particular way to hear my mother admit it, roundabout as it was. "What do you mean, though, you set me up for a certain life?"
"Honey. Just...I think it's time your dad and I made things easier for you. We can make that choice as your parents. Things should be more dialed down, easier to manage after today. I'm sorry we've let it go on this long." Her voice shook. Mom rarely cried unless it was because of me. "I'm so sorry, darling. We just wanted you to succeed, it was so selfish of us to make you this way. I'm so sorry." She stopped again to take deep shuddering breaths. I knew she would be sobbing freely soon, and that hurt to think about, but I couldn't get my head around her words.
"Mom, what are you talking about? You didn't...you didn't do this, I'm just like this; what do you mean things are changing? What's getting easier?" She was being so cryptic and that made me anxious--the disordered kind of anxious that was unique to those of us with incorrect brain chemistry, the kind of anxious where black shadows seeped into the corners of my eyes and my insides started to vibrate. "Mom, I need to know what you're talking about."
She was crying at this point with abandon, deep gasps punctuated by whispered apologies that I didn't understand. "I love you," she managed. "I love you--you'll see tomorrow--I'm sorry--I love you so much." And she hung up the phone.
What. The. Fuck.
Dad was at work and I knew I couldn't call him; he kept his personal phone turned off and I didn't have his work number anymore. I tried calling Mom back but she didn't answer.
I finished my drink in two long glugs, shook my head to clear the fire, and stood to pour another. A text from my mom buzzed--"*I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. You'll understand tomorrow, I promise.*"
I took the bottle of liquor off the counter, carried it to the couch, and nursed it until my head stopped buzzing and I drifted to sleep.
The next day, I didn't have a hangover for the first time in months, which was bizarre for a number of reasons, but I chalked it up to a shimmer of good luck and reached for the empty bottle. I carried it to the trash can. There were a couple more shoved away nearby, and the more I looked at them the more they annoyed me. I threw them in too. Might as well, since I was standing there anyway. My stomach rumbled and my kitchen was nearly empty, but I managed to find some bread and cheese to make a grilled cheese. While I waited for the pan to heat up, I found myself staring at the pile of dirty dishes by the sink. I had a dishwasher. How had my gross ass let this happen? I started loading it up and let it run just as my sandwich finished cooking. It was an unusually tasty grilled cheese--somehow I'd managed to toast it perfectly golden-brown, no burnt bits like usual. The stack of bills glared at me from the counter while I ate and I was reminded of Mom calling the store I did not work at. How heartbreaking that must have been for her to realize I had been lying. I began to let myself entertain the idea of checking some job ads online, and the thought didn't try to eat me alive. My resume might have to wait for another day, but just seeing what's available couldn't hurt.
I opened my weekly med box to Wednesday. It was empty. | Hello there, I am a man cursed by the gods. Its always been a dream of mine to surpass my hero the demigod Hercules. My childhood, however, was spent almost entirely overcoming obstacle after obstacle and it's a shock to many, myself included, that I am currently the most accomplished adventurer of my generation.
To be honest, I haven't spent my life chasing accolades. I just happen to perpetually find myself in some "less than ideal" situations and I've thrived on the hopelessness they bring with them. Let me paint you a picture.
As a teenager my friend Pythagoras, a creator, invented an inflatable object of unparalleled bounciness he called a "ball". I know, I know, I tried to get him to change the name. It was fantastic to kick around with until I accidentally kicked it into a cave. I went in to retrieve it and guess what --it happened to be a nest of dragons. Long story short, I avoided what should have been certain death by killing nine fire-breathing dragons with a ball.
So anyway, I'm a hopeless idealist and I've never really had a problem with the way my life has gone so far. Until now. An epically beautiful maiden arrived in my town and I fell in love with her instantly. No matter how much I try though she remains disinterested in my advances. I mean come on; the children literally sing ballads of my many, many feats.
Finally I gave up and went to my parents' for a little mental instauration before I went back to my life. Hearing of my troubles and the misery they had brought my mother said to my father;
"I think it's finally time to change the difficulty to novice,"
Of course I had no idea what she was talking about but my father left the room and came back a few minutes later.
"Done!" he proclaimed.
Just then there was a knock on the door. I got up and opened it and who should I find but the maiden who held my heart captive. Before I could find the right word to stutter she lept into my arms and gave me the singular most legendary kiss there had ever been since the beginning of time. | |
[WP] Your parents have kept it secret long enough; they can no longer stand your misery. They decide to change your life's difficulty from "Expert" to "Novice". | When I got out of bed, I was surprised to see the shelf's empty and boxes thrown about the floor. But as I wondered my still throbbing head stole my attention. At least I could eat again without throwing up, so I went outside, pumped water from the well and threw it on the primitive stove to boil away parasites. As I was contemplating how shitty it will be to walk to school like this my mother walked in. "What's with the boxes?" I query while preparing the rock hard "bread" that I called a meal. In awkward tone tone she replied "Your father and I have been talking, and we have decided to move. We moved here so you would grow up with strong, but this past week has changed our minds. Character is means nothing if you die from the lack of health care here, so we are moving for your safety." After chugging down my sandy water I ask in a inquisitive tone "Where are we moving to?" To which she responds, "America".
| It was the most sick and dastardly religious brainwashing technique you could imagine. My parents had been dosing me with small amounts of heavy metal for my entire life. I was angry all the time, I ached, my brain didn't work quite right.
The Riverside Baptist Awakening Camp was my first ever long stay away from home. It was all healthy eating, exercise, and religious theatre. So exactly what I needed to get better and think it the healing power of God.
I didn't find out until I was an adult, my mother has altzheimers and I look a lot like my father did when he was my age. She started discussing the plan with me like I was still a child. She wanted to increase the dosage, which apparently my father had expressed concern about.
I stopped caring for my mother after that so you could say my life got a lot easier. Putting her in the home really helped to fix up my relationship with my wife. | |
[WP] Your parents have kept it secret long enough; they can no longer stand your misery. They decide to change your life's difficulty from "Expert" to "Novice". | My life is a train wreck. I've whiffed on pretty much every aspect of daily existence from work and social life down to my inability to consistently floss.
After a particularly awful day, my mom threw me the lifeline of the century. With the flip of a switch, she changed my difficulty setting from expert to novice.
The next morning, my eyes pop open exactly at 5 a.m. I did not wake up in the middle of the night and feel super rested. After a delicious breakfast, 60 mg of Adderall and two cups of black coffee, I get to the public transit van for the commute to work five minutes early.
Justin volunteers to drive so I hop in the backseat and throw on my meditation app. I crush mindfulness for half an hour. I am the breath moving through my body and there is nothing else.
I get into work and bang out a story about a dude researching the history of wine in Washington State. It takes me like 15 minutes which is stupidly fast. I’m feeling awesome and the goodness keeps coming.
I have a skype interview with my boss Joanna. I ask her how her day is going and for the first time ever Joanna says she is doing great and has some big news.
“What?” I ask.
“I won the Power Ball,” Joanna replies. “$65 million after taxes. I’m out of here in a week and I guess that leaves you in charge.”
I can tell she is giddy at the prospect of quitting her job and so am I. It’s not yet 9 a.m. and my future is looking a hell of a lot brighter.
| It was the most sick and dastardly religious brainwashing technique you could imagine. My parents had been dosing me with small amounts of heavy metal for my entire life. I was angry all the time, I ached, my brain didn't work quite right.
The Riverside Baptist Awakening Camp was my first ever long stay away from home. It was all healthy eating, exercise, and religious theatre. So exactly what I needed to get better and think it the healing power of God.
I didn't find out until I was an adult, my mother has altzheimers and I look a lot like my father did when he was my age. She started discussing the plan with me like I was still a child. She wanted to increase the dosage, which apparently my father had expressed concern about.
I stopped caring for my mother after that so you could say my life got a lot easier. Putting her in the home really helped to fix up my relationship with my wife. | |
[WP] Your parents have kept it secret long enough; they can no longer stand your misery. They decide to change your life's difficulty from "Expert" to "Novice". | I couldn't believe that I did it. Something that was just wishful thinking till yesterday was suddenly a reality. Something that was so incomprehensibly difficult till yesterday was like a child's play today. And in a way, it was.
"Look Ma, I did it" I tapped my Mom's shoulder and proudly showed her my shoes. I had tied the strings myself. Just like she did till yesterday. They formed the perfect little knots, like a flower.
My mom said she was so proud of me. She even gave me a cookie. Before dinner! I went to my dad's office. He doesn't like to be disturbed but I thought he would want to hear the good news. Boy was I right. He took eyes of his computer when I called him and actually got off from his chair and ruffled my hair. He said I was on my way of becoming the man of the house. I smiled all the way to my room. I went to my closet. I wanted to try all of them on my own.
But first, I had to take the ones I was wearing. I was scared that the first time was just a fluke and I may not be able to tie them back again. I mustered some courage that I never knew I had and pulled the strings. They came out perfectly. Now I tried on my favorite shoes, the one with cars on them. I took the strings and didn't even have to think about Bunny ears and what goes where. My hand just made the knot. It was magical. I went to my Mom again and showed her. She was visibly excited as me. She looked at me for a while and gave me a kiss on my forehead. no cookie this time but I will take that. I went again to dad's office. He just muttered 'good job' this time. And good job it was. I have never seen such perfect knots on such perfect shoes. I spent the entire evening trying different shoes. I even went for a walk in the yard to see if they come off. None of them did. I took out all of my shoes and began cleaning them as from now on I can wear whichever shoe I want. I was so busy I didn't hear Mum call me for dinner. I only realized it was dinner time when she tapped me up and ask me what I had done to the room. I said I was cleaning my shoes as now I am a grown man, I have to do stuff myself. She didn't say a word during dinner. It was only me talking about my shoes and how I was a grown boy and what I will do tomorrow.
When it was sleeping time Mom came to my room. She kissed me on the forehead and went to turn off the lights. Before she turned off the lights, I saw she flipped the switch from N to E, whatever that is. | It was the most sick and dastardly religious brainwashing technique you could imagine. My parents had been dosing me with small amounts of heavy metal for my entire life. I was angry all the time, I ached, my brain didn't work quite right.
The Riverside Baptist Awakening Camp was my first ever long stay away from home. It was all healthy eating, exercise, and religious theatre. So exactly what I needed to get better and think it the healing power of God.
I didn't find out until I was an adult, my mother has altzheimers and I look a lot like my father did when he was my age. She started discussing the plan with me like I was still a child. She wanted to increase the dosage, which apparently my father had expressed concern about.
I stopped caring for my mother after that so you could say my life got a lot easier. Putting her in the home really helped to fix up my relationship with my wife. | |
[WP] Your parents have kept it secret long enough; they can no longer stand your misery. They decide to change your life's difficulty from "Expert" to "Novice". | He stared at the ceiling of the hospital room unable to quite drink in what his mother had just said. A difficulty slider? And why would she be so cruel to max it out? He had barely scraped by high school, and been forced to leave his job as a mechanic. He had depression, anxiety, and intrusive thoughts. He couldn't even commit to a single possible career.
"I'll be setting it to novice now," his mother said. The words wounded his pride. "I should have seen the signs that you couldn't handle this after they let you go." A knife twisted in the wound.
It was a week before the doctors deemed him fit to go home. His hands were starting to move like they did before he had been admitted. His mother picked him up and the drive home was silent. He resented that someone he had trusted had been so needlessly cruel. They got into the house and she showed him his slider. He tried to adjust it just one notch down, he could handle that much he was sure, but it seemed only she could interact with it.
"Only the summoner can touch it," She said, "and only one person has permission to summon it at a time. I'll give it to you once you get your life together."
He hadn't expected the immediate changes as she slid the slider down and dispelled it. Immediately he shrank two inches. It felt like falling. He notice his shirt start to tent out as a pressured grew on his chest. It wasn't long before he had two fully formed breasts. He felt similar sensations all over her body as her proportions shifted and he became female.
He couldn't quite comprehend what had happened. Even with the slight boost to intelligence. He had been told his whole life that women have it harder, so why was he a girl now? He acted horrified at the changes. His mother couldn't even explain why it had happened. He excused himself to his room saying he was going to do research.
He closed the door and slumped to the ground. He wasn't really horrified this had happened to him. His head was spinning with the change, but it wasn't cloudy by an oncoming panic attack, or even just the usual haze of depression. He had wanted something like this his whole life. He knew about trans people, but he had been unable to draw the line between them and his desire to be a woman. After he liked girls!
*Fine if I'm a woman then I'll need a name*, she thought. Perhaps Zoe. She was nervous and excited for the future, for the first time ever. But before she could truly begin making plans she wanted to get a look at her self in the mirror. Her baggy old boy clothes did a lot to hide her form, but she thought she was pretty naturally cute. She didn't think she had been unattractive as a guy, but she knew she'd be much happier to see this face in the mirror for the rest of her life.
She wondered what life would be like on easy. Would it get boring? She knew that she'd deal with that if turning up the difficulty would take away her womanhood.
edit: if this describes a fantasy you have then please feel free to message me about that. | It was the most sick and dastardly religious brainwashing technique you could imagine. My parents had been dosing me with small amounts of heavy metal for my entire life. I was angry all the time, I ached, my brain didn't work quite right.
The Riverside Baptist Awakening Camp was my first ever long stay away from home. It was all healthy eating, exercise, and religious theatre. So exactly what I needed to get better and think it the healing power of God.
I didn't find out until I was an adult, my mother has altzheimers and I look a lot like my father did when he was my age. She started discussing the plan with me like I was still a child. She wanted to increase the dosage, which apparently my father had expressed concern about.
I stopped caring for my mother after that so you could say my life got a lot easier. Putting her in the home really helped to fix up my relationship with my wife. | |
[WP] Your parents have kept it secret long enough; they can no longer stand your misery. They decide to change your life's difficulty from "Expert" to "Novice". | "We decided it was time you knew." said my mother.
"Knew what?" I asked.
She and my father locked eyes for a moment, before looking back at me.
"We saw how hard you strugged this last few months sweetie."
I felt tears trying to escape my eyes.
"But we thought we did the right thing by not telling you." My father added "We thought it would help you build character."
"And when you were diagnosed you were just seven, you wouldn't understand at that age." My mother explained
"And look how far you have gotten!" said my father and he spread his arms out. I saw a tiny speck of red on his skin peering from under his sleeve. I figured he scratched himself on a nail while working on the shed the other day.
"I mean you got good grades in high school, and even got into college. And when you dropped out... I mean... You started your own buisness! You always soldier on."
I nodded. I felt confused.
"What is going on?" I asked. "Why did mom say I got diagnosed when I was seven? -Wait a minute, I remember being in a room with a one way mirror, and a lady came to play with me. Was that it?"
My parents avoided my eyes, and my mother was fumbling with the tassels on a trow pillow.
"Yes" she said in a skreeking voice. "We should have told you sooner. Honey you have Atention Deficit Disorder."
"Yes, thank you Robert, I will senot them to you tomorrow. Ok, goodbye. Yes. Bye."
I hang up the phone.
I smile.
I just sold fifty shirts I designed to a local store.
I am so happy.
Buisness is booming for me.
And to think six months ago I went nearly bankrupt.
I was always working, busy all the time, but I just never knew what the hell I was doing. I was just running around like a headless chicken, no sense of direction, blind panick, and the constant feeling that I should just keep going.
All the years of my life I felt that I just needed to try harder, all those times I hit the same walls. I could never finish a project, always starting new things. I would always loose my stuff. Forget important meetings. And I had dropped out of college because I felt overwhelmed, and I would always do my assignments last minute, no matter how often I had told myself to start earlier.
If only I had known that it was not my fault. It wasn't. I did try hard enough.
Seeing a therapist and taking medication has changed my life dramatically.
I actually feel happy every now and then. | It was the most sick and dastardly religious brainwashing technique you could imagine. My parents had been dosing me with small amounts of heavy metal for my entire life. I was angry all the time, I ached, my brain didn't work quite right.
The Riverside Baptist Awakening Camp was my first ever long stay away from home. It was all healthy eating, exercise, and religious theatre. So exactly what I needed to get better and think it the healing power of God.
I didn't find out until I was an adult, my mother has altzheimers and I look a lot like my father did when he was my age. She started discussing the plan with me like I was still a child. She wanted to increase the dosage, which apparently my father had expressed concern about.
I stopped caring for my mother after that so you could say my life got a lot easier. Putting her in the home really helped to fix up my relationship with my wife. | |
[WP] Your parents have kept it secret long enough; they can no longer stand your misery. They decide to change your life's difficulty from "Expert" to "Novice". | I couldn't believe that I did it. Something that was just wishful thinking till yesterday was suddenly a reality. Something that was so incomprehensibly difficult till yesterday was like a child's play today. And in a way, it was.
"Look Ma, I did it" I tapped my Mom's shoulder and proudly showed her my shoes. I had tied the strings myself. Just like she did till yesterday. They formed the perfect little knots, like a flower.
My mom said she was so proud of me. She even gave me a cookie. Before dinner! I went to my dad's office. He doesn't like to be disturbed but I thought he would want to hear the good news. Boy was I right. He took eyes of his computer when I called him and actually got off from his chair and ruffled my hair. He said I was on my way of becoming the man of the house. I smiled all the way to my room. I went to my closet. I wanted to try all of them on my own.
But first, I had to take the ones I was wearing. I was scared that the first time was just a fluke and I may not be able to tie them back again. I mustered some courage that I never knew I had and pulled the strings. They came out perfectly. Now I tried on my favorite shoes, the one with cars on them. I took the strings and didn't even have to think about Bunny ears and what goes where. My hand just made the knot. It was magical. I went to my Mom again and showed her. She was visibly excited as me. She looked at me for a while and gave me a kiss on my forehead. no cookie this time but I will take that. I went again to dad's office. He just muttered 'good job' this time. And good job it was. I have never seen such perfect knots on such perfect shoes. I spent the entire evening trying different shoes. I even went for a walk in the yard to see if they come off. None of them did. I took out all of my shoes and began cleaning them as from now on I can wear whichever shoe I want. I was so busy I didn't hear Mum call me for dinner. I only realized it was dinner time when she tapped me up and ask me what I had done to the room. I said I was cleaning my shoes as now I am a grown man, I have to do stuff myself. She didn't say a word during dinner. It was only me talking about my shoes and how I was a grown boy and what I will do tomorrow.
When it was sleeping time Mom came to my room. She kissed me on the forehead and went to turn off the lights. Before she turned off the lights, I saw she flipped the switch from N to E, whatever that is. | My life is a train wreck. I've whiffed on pretty much every aspect of daily existence from work and social life down to my inability to consistently floss.
After a particularly awful day, my mom threw me the lifeline of the century. With the flip of a switch, she changed my difficulty setting from expert to novice.
The next morning, my eyes pop open exactly at 5 a.m. I did not wake up in the middle of the night and feel super rested. After a delicious breakfast, 60 mg of Adderall and two cups of black coffee, I get to the public transit van for the commute to work five minutes early.
Justin volunteers to drive so I hop in the backseat and throw on my meditation app. I crush mindfulness for half an hour. I am the breath moving through my body and there is nothing else.
I get into work and bang out a story about a dude researching the history of wine in Washington State. It takes me like 15 minutes which is stupidly fast. I’m feeling awesome and the goodness keeps coming.
I have a skype interview with my boss Joanna. I ask her how her day is going and for the first time ever Joanna says she is doing great and has some big news.
“What?” I ask.
“I won the Power Ball,” Joanna replies. “$65 million after taxes. I’m out of here in a week and I guess that leaves you in charge.”
I can tell she is giddy at the prospect of quitting her job and so am I. It’s not yet 9 a.m. and my future is looking a hell of a lot brighter.
| |
[WP] Your parents have kept it secret long enough; they can no longer stand your misery. They decide to change your life's difficulty from "Expert" to "Novice". | He stared at the ceiling of the hospital room unable to quite drink in what his mother had just said. A difficulty slider? And why would she be so cruel to max it out? He had barely scraped by high school, and been forced to leave his job as a mechanic. He had depression, anxiety, and intrusive thoughts. He couldn't even commit to a single possible career.
"I'll be setting it to novice now," his mother said. The words wounded his pride. "I should have seen the signs that you couldn't handle this after they let you go." A knife twisted in the wound.
It was a week before the doctors deemed him fit to go home. His hands were starting to move like they did before he had been admitted. His mother picked him up and the drive home was silent. He resented that someone he had trusted had been so needlessly cruel. They got into the house and she showed him his slider. He tried to adjust it just one notch down, he could handle that much he was sure, but it seemed only she could interact with it.
"Only the summoner can touch it," She said, "and only one person has permission to summon it at a time. I'll give it to you once you get your life together."
He hadn't expected the immediate changes as she slid the slider down and dispelled it. Immediately he shrank two inches. It felt like falling. He notice his shirt start to tent out as a pressured grew on his chest. It wasn't long before he had two fully formed breasts. He felt similar sensations all over her body as her proportions shifted and he became female.
He couldn't quite comprehend what had happened. Even with the slight boost to intelligence. He had been told his whole life that women have it harder, so why was he a girl now? He acted horrified at the changes. His mother couldn't even explain why it had happened. He excused himself to his room saying he was going to do research.
He closed the door and slumped to the ground. He wasn't really horrified this had happened to him. His head was spinning with the change, but it wasn't cloudy by an oncoming panic attack, or even just the usual haze of depression. He had wanted something like this his whole life. He knew about trans people, but he had been unable to draw the line between them and his desire to be a woman. After he liked girls!
*Fine if I'm a woman then I'll need a name*, she thought. Perhaps Zoe. She was nervous and excited for the future, for the first time ever. But before she could truly begin making plans she wanted to get a look at her self in the mirror. Her baggy old boy clothes did a lot to hide her form, but she thought she was pretty naturally cute. She didn't think she had been unattractive as a guy, but she knew she'd be much happier to see this face in the mirror for the rest of her life.
She wondered what life would be like on easy. Would it get boring? She knew that she'd deal with that if turning up the difficulty would take away her womanhood.
edit: if this describes a fantasy you have then please feel free to message me about that. | My life is a train wreck. I've whiffed on pretty much every aspect of daily existence from work and social life down to my inability to consistently floss.
After a particularly awful day, my mom threw me the lifeline of the century. With the flip of a switch, she changed my difficulty setting from expert to novice.
The next morning, my eyes pop open exactly at 5 a.m. I did not wake up in the middle of the night and feel super rested. After a delicious breakfast, 60 mg of Adderall and two cups of black coffee, I get to the public transit van for the commute to work five minutes early.
Justin volunteers to drive so I hop in the backseat and throw on my meditation app. I crush mindfulness for half an hour. I am the breath moving through my body and there is nothing else.
I get into work and bang out a story about a dude researching the history of wine in Washington State. It takes me like 15 minutes which is stupidly fast. I’m feeling awesome and the goodness keeps coming.
I have a skype interview with my boss Joanna. I ask her how her day is going and for the first time ever Joanna says she is doing great and has some big news.
“What?” I ask.
“I won the Power Ball,” Joanna replies. “$65 million after taxes. I’m out of here in a week and I guess that leaves you in charge.”
I can tell she is giddy at the prospect of quitting her job and so am I. It’s not yet 9 a.m. and my future is looking a hell of a lot brighter.
| |
[WP] Your parents have kept it secret long enough; they can no longer stand your misery. They decide to change your life's difficulty from "Expert" to "Novice". | "We decided it was time you knew." said my mother.
"Knew what?" I asked.
She and my father locked eyes for a moment, before looking back at me.
"We saw how hard you strugged this last few months sweetie."
I felt tears trying to escape my eyes.
"But we thought we did the right thing by not telling you." My father added "We thought it would help you build character."
"And when you were diagnosed you were just seven, you wouldn't understand at that age." My mother explained
"And look how far you have gotten!" said my father and he spread his arms out. I saw a tiny speck of red on his skin peering from under his sleeve. I figured he scratched himself on a nail while working on the shed the other day.
"I mean you got good grades in high school, and even got into college. And when you dropped out... I mean... You started your own buisness! You always soldier on."
I nodded. I felt confused.
"What is going on?" I asked. "Why did mom say I got diagnosed when I was seven? -Wait a minute, I remember being in a room with a one way mirror, and a lady came to play with me. Was that it?"
My parents avoided my eyes, and my mother was fumbling with the tassels on a trow pillow.
"Yes" she said in a skreeking voice. "We should have told you sooner. Honey you have Atention Deficit Disorder."
"Yes, thank you Robert, I will senot them to you tomorrow. Ok, goodbye. Yes. Bye."
I hang up the phone.
I smile.
I just sold fifty shirts I designed to a local store.
I am so happy.
Buisness is booming for me.
And to think six months ago I went nearly bankrupt.
I was always working, busy all the time, but I just never knew what the hell I was doing. I was just running around like a headless chicken, no sense of direction, blind panick, and the constant feeling that I should just keep going.
All the years of my life I felt that I just needed to try harder, all those times I hit the same walls. I could never finish a project, always starting new things. I would always loose my stuff. Forget important meetings. And I had dropped out of college because I felt overwhelmed, and I would always do my assignments last minute, no matter how often I had told myself to start earlier.
If only I had known that it was not my fault. It wasn't. I did try hard enough.
Seeing a therapist and taking medication has changed my life dramatically.
I actually feel happy every now and then. | My life is a train wreck. I've whiffed on pretty much every aspect of daily existence from work and social life down to my inability to consistently floss.
After a particularly awful day, my mom threw me the lifeline of the century. With the flip of a switch, she changed my difficulty setting from expert to novice.
The next morning, my eyes pop open exactly at 5 a.m. I did not wake up in the middle of the night and feel super rested. After a delicious breakfast, 60 mg of Adderall and two cups of black coffee, I get to the public transit van for the commute to work five minutes early.
Justin volunteers to drive so I hop in the backseat and throw on my meditation app. I crush mindfulness for half an hour. I am the breath moving through my body and there is nothing else.
I get into work and bang out a story about a dude researching the history of wine in Washington State. It takes me like 15 minutes which is stupidly fast. I’m feeling awesome and the goodness keeps coming.
I have a skype interview with my boss Joanna. I ask her how her day is going and for the first time ever Joanna says she is doing great and has some big news.
“What?” I ask.
“I won the Power Ball,” Joanna replies. “$65 million after taxes. I’m out of here in a week and I guess that leaves you in charge.”
I can tell she is giddy at the prospect of quitting her job and so am I. It’s not yet 9 a.m. and my future is looking a hell of a lot brighter.
| |
[WP] Your parents have kept it secret long enough; they can no longer stand your misery. They decide to change your life's difficulty from "Expert" to "Novice". | He stared at the ceiling of the hospital room unable to quite drink in what his mother had just said. A difficulty slider? And why would she be so cruel to max it out? He had barely scraped by high school, and been forced to leave his job as a mechanic. He had depression, anxiety, and intrusive thoughts. He couldn't even commit to a single possible career.
"I'll be setting it to novice now," his mother said. The words wounded his pride. "I should have seen the signs that you couldn't handle this after they let you go." A knife twisted in the wound.
It was a week before the doctors deemed him fit to go home. His hands were starting to move like they did before he had been admitted. His mother picked him up and the drive home was silent. He resented that someone he had trusted had been so needlessly cruel. They got into the house and she showed him his slider. He tried to adjust it just one notch down, he could handle that much he was sure, but it seemed only she could interact with it.
"Only the summoner can touch it," She said, "and only one person has permission to summon it at a time. I'll give it to you once you get your life together."
He hadn't expected the immediate changes as she slid the slider down and dispelled it. Immediately he shrank two inches. It felt like falling. He notice his shirt start to tent out as a pressured grew on his chest. It wasn't long before he had two fully formed breasts. He felt similar sensations all over her body as her proportions shifted and he became female.
He couldn't quite comprehend what had happened. Even with the slight boost to intelligence. He had been told his whole life that women have it harder, so why was he a girl now? He acted horrified at the changes. His mother couldn't even explain why it had happened. He excused himself to his room saying he was going to do research.
He closed the door and slumped to the ground. He wasn't really horrified this had happened to him. His head was spinning with the change, but it wasn't cloudy by an oncoming panic attack, or even just the usual haze of depression. He had wanted something like this his whole life. He knew about trans people, but he had been unable to draw the line between them and his desire to be a woman. After he liked girls!
*Fine if I'm a woman then I'll need a name*, she thought. Perhaps Zoe. She was nervous and excited for the future, for the first time ever. But before she could truly begin making plans she wanted to get a look at her self in the mirror. Her baggy old boy clothes did a lot to hide her form, but she thought she was pretty naturally cute. She didn't think she had been unattractive as a guy, but she knew she'd be much happier to see this face in the mirror for the rest of her life.
She wondered what life would be like on easy. Would it get boring? She knew that she'd deal with that if turning up the difficulty would take away her womanhood.
edit: if this describes a fantasy you have then please feel free to message me about that. | I couldn't believe that I did it. Something that was just wishful thinking till yesterday was suddenly a reality. Something that was so incomprehensibly difficult till yesterday was like a child's play today. And in a way, it was.
"Look Ma, I did it" I tapped my Mom's shoulder and proudly showed her my shoes. I had tied the strings myself. Just like she did till yesterday. They formed the perfect little knots, like a flower.
My mom said she was so proud of me. She even gave me a cookie. Before dinner! I went to my dad's office. He doesn't like to be disturbed but I thought he would want to hear the good news. Boy was I right. He took eyes of his computer when I called him and actually got off from his chair and ruffled my hair. He said I was on my way of becoming the man of the house. I smiled all the way to my room. I went to my closet. I wanted to try all of them on my own.
But first, I had to take the ones I was wearing. I was scared that the first time was just a fluke and I may not be able to tie them back again. I mustered some courage that I never knew I had and pulled the strings. They came out perfectly. Now I tried on my favorite shoes, the one with cars on them. I took the strings and didn't even have to think about Bunny ears and what goes where. My hand just made the knot. It was magical. I went to my Mom again and showed her. She was visibly excited as me. She looked at me for a while and gave me a kiss on my forehead. no cookie this time but I will take that. I went again to dad's office. He just muttered 'good job' this time. And good job it was. I have never seen such perfect knots on such perfect shoes. I spent the entire evening trying different shoes. I even went for a walk in the yard to see if they come off. None of them did. I took out all of my shoes and began cleaning them as from now on I can wear whichever shoe I want. I was so busy I didn't hear Mum call me for dinner. I only realized it was dinner time when she tapped me up and ask me what I had done to the room. I said I was cleaning my shoes as now I am a grown man, I have to do stuff myself. She didn't say a word during dinner. It was only me talking about my shoes and how I was a grown boy and what I will do tomorrow.
When it was sleeping time Mom came to my room. She kissed me on the forehead and went to turn off the lights. Before she turned off the lights, I saw she flipped the switch from N to E, whatever that is. | |
[WP] Your parents have kept it secret long enough; they can no longer stand your misery. They decide to change your life's difficulty from "Expert" to "Novice". | "We decided it was time you knew." said my mother.
"Knew what?" I asked.
She and my father locked eyes for a moment, before looking back at me.
"We saw how hard you strugged this last few months sweetie."
I felt tears trying to escape my eyes.
"But we thought we did the right thing by not telling you." My father added "We thought it would help you build character."
"And when you were diagnosed you were just seven, you wouldn't understand at that age." My mother explained
"And look how far you have gotten!" said my father and he spread his arms out. I saw a tiny speck of red on his skin peering from under his sleeve. I figured he scratched himself on a nail while working on the shed the other day.
"I mean you got good grades in high school, and even got into college. And when you dropped out... I mean... You started your own buisness! You always soldier on."
I nodded. I felt confused.
"What is going on?" I asked. "Why did mom say I got diagnosed when I was seven? -Wait a minute, I remember being in a room with a one way mirror, and a lady came to play with me. Was that it?"
My parents avoided my eyes, and my mother was fumbling with the tassels on a trow pillow.
"Yes" she said in a skreeking voice. "We should have told you sooner. Honey you have Atention Deficit Disorder."
"Yes, thank you Robert, I will senot them to you tomorrow. Ok, goodbye. Yes. Bye."
I hang up the phone.
I smile.
I just sold fifty shirts I designed to a local store.
I am so happy.
Buisness is booming for me.
And to think six months ago I went nearly bankrupt.
I was always working, busy all the time, but I just never knew what the hell I was doing. I was just running around like a headless chicken, no sense of direction, blind panick, and the constant feeling that I should just keep going.
All the years of my life I felt that I just needed to try harder, all those times I hit the same walls. I could never finish a project, always starting new things. I would always loose my stuff. Forget important meetings. And I had dropped out of college because I felt overwhelmed, and I would always do my assignments last minute, no matter how often I had told myself to start earlier.
If only I had known that it was not my fault. It wasn't. I did try hard enough.
Seeing a therapist and taking medication has changed my life dramatically.
I actually feel happy every now and then. | I couldn't believe that I did it. Something that was just wishful thinking till yesterday was suddenly a reality. Something that was so incomprehensibly difficult till yesterday was like a child's play today. And in a way, it was.
"Look Ma, I did it" I tapped my Mom's shoulder and proudly showed her my shoes. I had tied the strings myself. Just like she did till yesterday. They formed the perfect little knots, like a flower.
My mom said she was so proud of me. She even gave me a cookie. Before dinner! I went to my dad's office. He doesn't like to be disturbed but I thought he would want to hear the good news. Boy was I right. He took eyes of his computer when I called him and actually got off from his chair and ruffled my hair. He said I was on my way of becoming the man of the house. I smiled all the way to my room. I went to my closet. I wanted to try all of them on my own.
But first, I had to take the ones I was wearing. I was scared that the first time was just a fluke and I may not be able to tie them back again. I mustered some courage that I never knew I had and pulled the strings. They came out perfectly. Now I tried on my favorite shoes, the one with cars on them. I took the strings and didn't even have to think about Bunny ears and what goes where. My hand just made the knot. It was magical. I went to my Mom again and showed her. She was visibly excited as me. She looked at me for a while and gave me a kiss on my forehead. no cookie this time but I will take that. I went again to dad's office. He just muttered 'good job' this time. And good job it was. I have never seen such perfect knots on such perfect shoes. I spent the entire evening trying different shoes. I even went for a walk in the yard to see if they come off. None of them did. I took out all of my shoes and began cleaning them as from now on I can wear whichever shoe I want. I was so busy I didn't hear Mum call me for dinner. I only realized it was dinner time when she tapped me up and ask me what I had done to the room. I said I was cleaning my shoes as now I am a grown man, I have to do stuff myself. She didn't say a word during dinner. It was only me talking about my shoes and how I was a grown boy and what I will do tomorrow.
When it was sleeping time Mom came to my room. She kissed me on the forehead and went to turn off the lights. Before she turned off the lights, I saw she flipped the switch from N to E, whatever that is. |
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