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[WP] They dug the deepest hole in the history of Mankind. What they found at the bottom was not rock, not magma, but flesh. Living, pulsing flesh. | I poked the pink wall again and had the sudden distasteful memory of my dad’s beer gut run through my mind. The way he used to grill with his shirt off and get all beet red and sweaty. What in the world were we looking at? Roger shifted the helmet off his gritty forehead and scratched with a greasy hand. Even at the bottom of this shaft, the deepest shaft we had ever been able to drill out, the air moved quickly from the oscillating air vents on the nearby rig and prickled the skin on the back of my neck.
Roger was dumbfounded. The man hadn’t stopped talking for more than a second for the entire 2 weeks I’d worked with him. His silence suddenly made the whole situation stranger. Finally he spit on the ground and looked at me, “What the hell is that?”
“Look, boss, I think we just wait till the engineers get down here and they can do whatever they want with the… well whatever it is,” I said.
Roger frowned at me as he came to a decision and said, “I think we just keep on drillin’. Who knows how long those college boys will take? We’re this close to the core, John. Let’s just finish the job.”
“Just touch it first,” I said.
“Why?” Roger said.
“Just touch it.”
Roger glared at me and then strode right to the wall and put his hand on it. He jerked his hand away, swore, and then put it back on the wall.
“It’s warm… like a…. well, like a dog or something,” Roger said.
The A/C cycled back on and the temp from the fans dropped about 10 degrees. The air swept across us again and the wall. The wall shuddered.
Roger ripped his hand off the wall and took a step back. The whole wall looked like a bowl of Jell-o struck by a hammer.
“Quake!” screamed Roger as he stumbled away from the wall. But I stood and there was no vibration in the ground, just the wall. I gripped Roger’s arm and pointed back to the wall. Something had appeared in the center of the wall, a 20 foot tall glassy pool of black water. Then the pool blinked.
Roger screamed like a girl and stumbled backwards. He tripped and I watched him go down. His head bounced off the rock floor and his helmet spun beside his prone form. The eye locked on the movement of the helmet and a slick pink tentacle whipped out of the wall and grasped Roger’s leg. In a single breath Roger was gone. The last of his work boots disappearing into a newly formed hole in the wall.
I shook and suddenly had an overwhelming desire to run. But it seemed as the eye scanned the room that death was not going to come yet. It couldn’t see me!
I slid my hand to my belt and slowly fumbled a flare into my palm. I cracked the top and the flare roared to life. The eye swung to me in an instant, but it was too late. I had already cocked my arm back, and thanking my parents for 12 years of baseball, threw the flare into the eye with enough adrenalin to strike out Babe Ruth.
The wall suddenly roared as I spun with the follow through and sprinted towards the tunnel. As I strapped into the emergency tunnel pod, the ground started to shake. I jammed the red button and rockets flared on the bottom of the pod. My last view was of the tunnel filling with a kind of liquid from the gargantuan eye. I sped towards the surface and as the distance increased the roar seemed to change in tone. I closed my eyes in relief and then cocked my head. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have sworn there was a baby crying.
| It wasn't easy intergrating into Australia as a 14 year old boy from India.
I was teased constantly for smelling like my fathers cooking and got called taxi for the rest of my school life.
That name stuck. My few friends that I had, once finishing school called me it aswell but by that time I had gotten over it. Everyone else knew me by my real name, Jaya.
I'm now 26 and work as a geologist for a company called "Terģai international".
As I have done everyday for the last 3 weeks I woke up today and checked my e-mails before having the chance to even make my coffee.
Todays the day I finally recieved what i was waiting for.
The e-mail had plane tickets attached for Israel and was to leave October 15th, 3:40 am, two days from now.
Excited and nervous I drive to work, skipping breakfast. I'll just get something from the cafe down stairs today.
"Jaya" I hear from across the lobby. It was my work mate Fabian. "Did you get the", "yes" I interupt. "You know I've been checking my e-mails first thing each morning!"
We both make our way to the briefing in the common room.
"I know you have all been patient to hear about the upcoming project and can see that you are all excited to have recieved your plane tickets."
The project director and COO of the company Francis Graves exclaimed.
"But this morning I will need your full attention!"
As if we were not already listening eagerly..
"Four months ago there was a disruption in our satalite caused by an unexplained seismic event. We will be sending a team over to explore the mine in Hebron just south of Isreal where we have word that it was traced back to"
He said with great control in his voice, yet his face posed a thousand questions.
I had left to go home to pack and do my research. I found that in 2021 3 years ago Hebron had surpassed the worlds deepest mine in Johannesburg being 6.7 km deep (4.1 miles) by a company called Dis'kəvər (Hebrew for discover) which is now 11.4 km (7 miles) deep. Dis'kəvər was an animus apertusian company.
I found that animus apertusian was a religion dating back to 1300 bc and was the belief that all religion held some truth but has been misinterpreted through the simple mindness of man. Animus apertus is latin for open mind.
In other words this religion is somewhat of a small society of scholars trying to connect the dots of religion and humanity.
It is now October 16th and I am on a bus from Ben Gurion airport in Israel to Hebron.
It has been just short of three hours on the bus when our team finally makes it up to the top of the mine.
Fabian has not said a word the whole drive except for making a joke that there was no diverence between the Animus apertusians to which I had informed him about and myself being a Hindu.
When I was a young boy still living in Delhi, India my mother would tell me stories of Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva the trinity of Hinduism and how modern Christianity was just a poor explenation for the south Asian truth.
Unfortunately my mother named Prith died in a earthquake two years before moving to Sydney Australia.
Once we had exited the bus we were met by some scientists who would lead us to the large steel caged elevator which was about 4x6 meters long. I was there informed that Francis Graves who I have only spoken to twice had requested that I go to the bottom while the others do there research 8 k.m in.
The lights that filled this gaping whole exposed a cave like workspace where the elevator came to a halt.
Fabian looks at me like I'm some bastard that betrayed him as he hops off.
The scientist that seems to be superior out of the three, Professor Carlon turns to me with great curiosity.
"Jaya, we have found something."
They all look at me as if I'm some mysterious man hidding a million secrets.
"3 months ago we found an enormous pyrite cube, which in itself is hard enough to believe but what im telling you will reveal itself to be true."
I feel interrogated even though I am not being asked questions. There eyes pierce mine and my fingers twitch with anticipation.
"Enscribed on the cube is 'aakaash ke tairgai pita ke jaya'"
I laugh "Jaya of Terģai father of the sky?"
"Yes" says Professor Carlon with a dead straight face.
Before I get the chance to ask any questions the elevator comes to it's final destination.
Blinding floodlights face the giant pyrite cube standing like a cliff with those rediculous words written on it 'aakaash ke tairgai pita ke jaya'.
I drop my bag and with every question I had leaving my mind I walk up to it.
I can hear my own heart beat as I walk.
As i come within 10 or so feet of it i realise what i thought was my heart beat was actually the pyrites.
The lights darken, Professor Carlon and the other scientists fade out of my sight and I hear the words in my mothers voice "I have missed you Dyaus Pita"
Dyaus Pita in hinduism is Father sky.
I touch the cube and fall.
I see a flash back of when my mother fell into the earthquake followed by an intense purple light. I dont remember seeing that light when it happened all those years ago but as clear as day I see that the purple light was her essence and the transition of her human body reincarnating.
Everything goes black.
"Jaya Dyaus it is me"
I hear in my mothers voice
"Prithvi Mata"
A blue light not only flashes all around me but within in me.
I now look down that mine from 480 km high but can now see mother earths heart.
My mother used to tell me stories of reincarnation and how I must do good in my life. I grew up a Hindu and reincarnated as a Animus apertusian.
It is now I realise that I am a god just as she is.
Mother earth and father sky.
| |
[WP] They dug the deepest hole in the history of Mankind. What they found at the bottom was not rock, not magma, but flesh. Living, pulsing flesh. | "Oh jesus, we're going through!" Jess heard the Pilot scream.
The drill tip, still red hot from chewing up mantle, burst through the wall in front of it. Then the wall was eroding and a second later they were all airborne.
Somehow, the Pilot missed this little void on the GPR sheets, she thought. To be fair Jess knew the GPR was always open to interpretation. Now they were all going to die and just because of some stupid mistake.
The other Crew members were screaming now. Jess could see the ground coming closer through the big screens mounted together at the front of the cab. Oddly it was not like the stone they had seen all the way down here. It was dark and there were small raised lines of... something making the terrain less flat and more uneven. Stranger still, these terraces seemed to be pulsing. She couldn't tell if it was her eyes playing tricks or if it was real, she had more pressing matters.
She braced for impact by curling herself into a ball as much as she could. Mark was the only one to have had the foresight to strap himself to his seat. Its not that he actually had prepared, like all other things in his life this had been dumb luck. During the four day trek some of the crew had asked him why he barely left his seat. He'd said "The leather is nice, and the seatbelt makes me feel comfy." It was no wonder all she felt was unbridled rage right then. The community college drop out was the only one likely to survive in a tin can full of professionals in every realm of academia.
The ground was five feet away now, not even two seconds had passed since they had fallen.
Jake and Simon were holding each other tight together, they knew it was the end and the end indeed came. The pilot let out a final squeal, he had turned around to look at Jess. Their eyes met, he was a child in this moment, looking back to his mother, asking, begging her to tell him what to do.
They hit the ground, the first thing that happened was the front panel caved encapsulating the pilot in metal. He was gone, swallowed up by the craft itself.
Then it was Jake and Simon's turn, it seemed time had stopped a moment and they stood there. They might have thought nothing was going to happen for that split second. But the god of physics would have its due, there had to be an equal and opposite reaction.
They flew like two dancers gliding across the floor. They did not let go of each other they did not scream. Just floated until they collided with the crunched metal and were separated from each other, and their arms, by the wedge the crunched ship had formed.
She didn't see where they'd come to rest. It was her turn. She flew forward at a speed she didn't know was possible. She felt ligaments in her neck burn and thought her skin might rip. The first thing she hit was her own bolted down seat at the secondary command console. With her back.
It bent her backwards and she felt popping and ripping everywhere. The pain was more than she could even have imagined.
She woke up and everything had stopped. There was an eerie since of still she opened her eyes to get her bearrings. Everything was black. The lights must have gone out, jesus, how was she still alive, she wondered.
She attemped to move her arm. she felt a tingle in her arm but it did not move. She tried her legs, nothing. She couldn't move anything. Oh god, she realized she was paralysed, a vegetable. She'd survived only to die agonizingly slowly, of thirst or starvation. She whined, her vocal chords were raw and the noise made razor blades danced up and down her throat but she didn't care. She would whine until she was dead, good and proper and she wouldn't let a little pain stop her, she would whine because she couldn't do anything else!
"Jess, are you alive?" It was Mark's voice, the seatbelt had saved the degenerate prick. She, the doctor of Applied behavior analysis, was nothing more than a puddle on the ground. If she had a god she would have cursed him.
"No, I'm humming beyond the grave." She spat.
"No need to be rude Jess, it was just a question." He said in that dejected tone he always affected when called stupid.
"No need to be... The fucking crew is... You're such a..." Jess wanted to yell but every time she tried she felt the blades again. She gave up and just panted pathetically.
Mark could see Jess lying on the now slanted floor of the big mining vessel. She was in a pile as if she were a toy that had been tossed down.
Mark felt the comfort of his seatbelt, how it held him nice and tight. The seatbelt had saved him too, he would be just like the others laying in a mess at the front, which was now the bottom.
He liked the nice leather seat cushioning his buttocks and the belt hugging him nicely but he knew he'd have to leave this cocoon. Jess was probably hurt, that is why she was being rude, she was hurt and he needed to help.
He unhooked himself and he could hear Jess saying something but it was concealed by the sound of the belt. He climbed down the two chairs below him and slid to the bottom of the craft near the front panel door.
"What are you doing Mark, I said don't come near me! You're stupid and I hate you!" She was saying, Mark decided to ignore her after all she was a person in need. He couldn't rationally expect her to be nice at a time like this, it wasn't anybody's fault.
"Alright, Jess, I'm here to help you. Shhh. I'm here to help." Jess stopped her ranting, it seemed he was actually calming her down.
"That's right Jess, everything's going to be okay." She had quite a bit of blood on her but Mark suspected it wasn't all hers. SHe'd actually made it out quite well considering where she had landed.
"Can you move?" He asked.
Jess let out a hissing sigh that Mark thought would never end. She didn't say anything.
"Well?" Mark said.
"No, you fucking knobhead. Don't you think I would have gotten up to wring your head off by now?"
"I feel like I'm being very patient with you, but if you keep lobbing hurtful insults my way I'm going to have to end this conversation." Mark said, crossing his arms.
Jess proceeded to curse under her breath, talking to herself, telling her self it would be alright and she'd be free of him when death embraced her. She did this quite a while and Mark let her ramble on. Finally she was quiet.
"Jess I'm going to have to open the door and get outside the ship. I need the radios from the cargo unit." Mark said.
"Well go and get them, I'm not stopping you." He suspected if she could move she would be throwing her hands up in the air.
He had had enough of her beratement. The door came open with surprising ease and he got one leg outside.
"Wait," Jess said. He waited. "Give me your flashlight, I don't want to be alone in the dark here."
Mark was confused.
"Jess, the lights are all on."
"Oh god, oh my god, i'm blind too! Just kill me, oh my god, kill me!" Jess screamed.
Mark stepped outside, he'd dealt with enough of her negativity and left her to stew.
As soon as he stepped off the metal ship platform he stopped. The ground, if he could call it that, had reacted to being stepped on. It was soft upon stepping on it but something beneath had flexed and now it was much harder but it trembled beneath him as if struggling to maintain the tension.
He looked around him and he could see that the void they'd entered was huge, a cavern with no stalagtites or other rock formations, instead there were little pustules and tubes of that dark material hanging from grotesque stems.
There was a smell too. A waxy, sweaty smell. Like someone who hasn't showered in several days. It was so strong it made him want to vomit. He pulled his emergency gasmask out and put it on.
This was skin, dark, and writhing all around him. He realized that the drill had pierced the skin and was bunching it up where it landed making a hill of sorts. Blood seeped out from within and he could see the spray on the wall they had fallen through.
He would have lost his composure if he hadn't remembered his mother's words at that moment. "worry's like a rocking chair, it gives you something to do, but it doesn't get you anywhere."
He smiled
"Oh mom you always knew how to keep me out of trouble." He shook his fist at the ceiling, still smiling.
His hope restored he walked around to the back of the vessel and found the cargo bay. It was higher than he could reach due to the angle of the vehicle so he climbed on the side rails until he could reach it.
He popped open the hatch and retreived the back up radios. He sighed, relieved to have at least the means to escape even if they couldn't get a signal.
Out of the misty gloom of the huge cavern he heard something. A methodical "plap, plap" coming closer to him.
The cavern was strangely lit by an unseen pinkish light source but he could only see so far.
He hopped down from the craft and produced his little pistol the officials had provided him "in case of mole men."
The slapping sound seemed only meters away but he hadn't seen anything yet. Then a tall, skinny shape appeared on the plane of skin before him.
It was stick thin in the middle and seven or eight feet tall. It had a tall oval for a head and it was made out of a strange pinkish mottled skin itself.
Mark raised his gun.
"What are you, don't come closer we are an expitionary crew and have the full backing of the United States military!" He warned.
The creature first hissed like tv static but it progressively changed to actual language. First german, then french, then one he didn't know and finally it said its first english word.
"Hello." It was speaking with the voice of Orson Welles over the radio. Mark had heard the war of the worlds broadcast a million times.
"Hey. What is all this?" He pointed at everything.
"This is our home. You must come with me."
| It wasn't easy intergrating into Australia as a 14 year old boy from India.
I was teased constantly for smelling like my fathers cooking and got called taxi for the rest of my school life.
That name stuck. My few friends that I had, once finishing school called me it aswell but by that time I had gotten over it. Everyone else knew me by my real name, Jaya.
I'm now 26 and work as a geologist for a company called "Terģai international".
As I have done everyday for the last 3 weeks I woke up today and checked my e-mails before having the chance to even make my coffee.
Todays the day I finally recieved what i was waiting for.
The e-mail had plane tickets attached for Israel and was to leave October 15th, 3:40 am, two days from now.
Excited and nervous I drive to work, skipping breakfast. I'll just get something from the cafe down stairs today.
"Jaya" I hear from across the lobby. It was my work mate Fabian. "Did you get the", "yes" I interupt. "You know I've been checking my e-mails first thing each morning!"
We both make our way to the briefing in the common room.
"I know you have all been patient to hear about the upcoming project and can see that you are all excited to have recieved your plane tickets."
The project director and COO of the company Francis Graves exclaimed.
"But this morning I will need your full attention!"
As if we were not already listening eagerly..
"Four months ago there was a disruption in our satalite caused by an unexplained seismic event. We will be sending a team over to explore the mine in Hebron just south of Isreal where we have word that it was traced back to"
He said with great control in his voice, yet his face posed a thousand questions.
I had left to go home to pack and do my research. I found that in 2021 3 years ago Hebron had surpassed the worlds deepest mine in Johannesburg being 6.7 km deep (4.1 miles) by a company called Dis'kəvər (Hebrew for discover) which is now 11.4 km (7 miles) deep. Dis'kəvər was an animus apertusian company.
I found that animus apertusian was a religion dating back to 1300 bc and was the belief that all religion held some truth but has been misinterpreted through the simple mindness of man. Animus apertus is latin for open mind.
In other words this religion is somewhat of a small society of scholars trying to connect the dots of religion and humanity.
It is now October 16th and I am on a bus from Ben Gurion airport in Israel to Hebron.
It has been just short of three hours on the bus when our team finally makes it up to the top of the mine.
Fabian has not said a word the whole drive except for making a joke that there was no diverence between the Animus apertusians to which I had informed him about and myself being a Hindu.
When I was a young boy still living in Delhi, India my mother would tell me stories of Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva the trinity of Hinduism and how modern Christianity was just a poor explenation for the south Asian truth.
Unfortunately my mother named Prith died in a earthquake two years before moving to Sydney Australia.
Once we had exited the bus we were met by some scientists who would lead us to the large steel caged elevator which was about 4x6 meters long. I was there informed that Francis Graves who I have only spoken to twice had requested that I go to the bottom while the others do there research 8 k.m in.
The lights that filled this gaping whole exposed a cave like workspace where the elevator came to a halt.
Fabian looks at me like I'm some bastard that betrayed him as he hops off.
The scientist that seems to be superior out of the three, Professor Carlon turns to me with great curiosity.
"Jaya, we have found something."
They all look at me as if I'm some mysterious man hidding a million secrets.
"3 months ago we found an enormous pyrite cube, which in itself is hard enough to believe but what im telling you will reveal itself to be true."
I feel interrogated even though I am not being asked questions. There eyes pierce mine and my fingers twitch with anticipation.
"Enscribed on the cube is 'aakaash ke tairgai pita ke jaya'"
I laugh "Jaya of Terģai father of the sky?"
"Yes" says Professor Carlon with a dead straight face.
Before I get the chance to ask any questions the elevator comes to it's final destination.
Blinding floodlights face the giant pyrite cube standing like a cliff with those rediculous words written on it 'aakaash ke tairgai pita ke jaya'.
I drop my bag and with every question I had leaving my mind I walk up to it.
I can hear my own heart beat as I walk.
As i come within 10 or so feet of it i realise what i thought was my heart beat was actually the pyrites.
The lights darken, Professor Carlon and the other scientists fade out of my sight and I hear the words in my mothers voice "I have missed you Dyaus Pita"
Dyaus Pita in hinduism is Father sky.
I touch the cube and fall.
I see a flash back of when my mother fell into the earthquake followed by an intense purple light. I dont remember seeing that light when it happened all those years ago but as clear as day I see that the purple light was her essence and the transition of her human body reincarnating.
Everything goes black.
"Jaya Dyaus it is me"
I hear in my mothers voice
"Prithvi Mata"
A blue light not only flashes all around me but within in me.
I now look down that mine from 480 km high but can now see mother earths heart.
My mother used to tell me stories of reincarnation and how I must do good in my life. I grew up a Hindu and reincarnated as a Animus apertusian.
It is now I realise that I am a god just as she is.
Mother earth and father sky.
| |
[WP] They dug the deepest hole in the history of Mankind. What they found at the bottom was not rock, not magma, but flesh. Living, pulsing flesh. | The metal plates sizzled hot. I took my gloved fingers and dragged the hard material against the smooth silver. The fabric smoked and I retracted my hand guiltily. My intercom crackled. “Temperature levels high, Jane are you okay?”
“Yes.” I replied and wriggled my hot fingertips. “All set for launch.”
The pod jolted away from the walls and dropped into free-fall. My arms clung to my body and I closed my eyes to stop the dizzy sick from rising inside. The mechanics whirred, metal grinding metal, and then all too soon we were slowing down, breaks grunting and finally the pod stood still - silent in the smoggy air.
I opened my eyes and saw Worlds End - the last pod platform. This was the point Andy had reached - the deepest a human had ever been. His intercom had faded and crackled out - as though to remind us life didn’t exist down here.
I looked between the two spotlights and the jutting metal platform. “Andy?” I whispered, knowing I would never receive an answer. This was where the metal lining ended and dropped off into Earth. The drill lines suddenly revealed and carving their spiral pattern into the diamond rocks. I felt the distance of the long metal tube above and heard a crackle in my ear.
“Jane…Jane?” The voice was calm but sputtered with fear - it was the voice of my father. He hadn’t reccomended me for the job, but I was the best person to follow in Andy’s footsteps - I knew them better than anyone.
“World’s End reached. Vitals good. Disengaging from pod.” I replied in monotone, ignoring the pounding blood. I heard a sigh of relief through the intercom. “Proceed with caution, Soilder.” My father replied used his nickname for me and I almost burst into tears - the pressure was too high down here.
I unhooked the pod from my gravity-reducing suit and floated a moment at World’s End. I glanced around one more time as though expecting to see Andy in his armchair with a whiskey and throwing his head back in laughter, “Got ya!” He shouted and then we zoomed back up to life above.
The tube was empty.
I kicked off and floated down. My headlight flashed on and illuminated the drill walls in a dark orange. I could hear my own breathing and that was it. Sound didn’t travel down here. The press called un Minatours - due to the suit - but I didn’t feel like a monster, I felt like a monster was right behind me, above me, around me…below me.
I floated down. Time passed and my intercom crackled in and out. The suit fed me and took fluids away from me - keeping me alive, sustaining my existence floating within a drill hole thousands of miles inside the Earth. I dozed off at one point. I dreamt of Andy pulling me out of a hole and giving me CPR to bring back my breath. I gasped awake.
I had stopped foating. My feet rocked against something soft, stalling my progress. The orange light reflected stronger down here and I could see the walls were no longer rock. They were faintly pink and they were moving, in, out, in, out. I breathed with the walls and then threw up. The suit slicked away the fluid and I gulped in oxygen.
“Hello.” A voice reverberated my existence. “You must be Andy’s friend.” | It wasn't easy intergrating into Australia as a 14 year old boy from India.
I was teased constantly for smelling like my fathers cooking and got called taxi for the rest of my school life.
That name stuck. My few friends that I had, once finishing school called me it aswell but by that time I had gotten over it. Everyone else knew me by my real name, Jaya.
I'm now 26 and work as a geologist for a company called "Terģai international".
As I have done everyday for the last 3 weeks I woke up today and checked my e-mails before having the chance to even make my coffee.
Todays the day I finally recieved what i was waiting for.
The e-mail had plane tickets attached for Israel and was to leave October 15th, 3:40 am, two days from now.
Excited and nervous I drive to work, skipping breakfast. I'll just get something from the cafe down stairs today.
"Jaya" I hear from across the lobby. It was my work mate Fabian. "Did you get the", "yes" I interupt. "You know I've been checking my e-mails first thing each morning!"
We both make our way to the briefing in the common room.
"I know you have all been patient to hear about the upcoming project and can see that you are all excited to have recieved your plane tickets."
The project director and COO of the company Francis Graves exclaimed.
"But this morning I will need your full attention!"
As if we were not already listening eagerly..
"Four months ago there was a disruption in our satalite caused by an unexplained seismic event. We will be sending a team over to explore the mine in Hebron just south of Isreal where we have word that it was traced back to"
He said with great control in his voice, yet his face posed a thousand questions.
I had left to go home to pack and do my research. I found that in 2021 3 years ago Hebron had surpassed the worlds deepest mine in Johannesburg being 6.7 km deep (4.1 miles) by a company called Dis'kəvər (Hebrew for discover) which is now 11.4 km (7 miles) deep. Dis'kəvər was an animus apertusian company.
I found that animus apertusian was a religion dating back to 1300 bc and was the belief that all religion held some truth but has been misinterpreted through the simple mindness of man. Animus apertus is latin for open mind.
In other words this religion is somewhat of a small society of scholars trying to connect the dots of religion and humanity.
It is now October 16th and I am on a bus from Ben Gurion airport in Israel to Hebron.
It has been just short of three hours on the bus when our team finally makes it up to the top of the mine.
Fabian has not said a word the whole drive except for making a joke that there was no diverence between the Animus apertusians to which I had informed him about and myself being a Hindu.
When I was a young boy still living in Delhi, India my mother would tell me stories of Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva the trinity of Hinduism and how modern Christianity was just a poor explenation for the south Asian truth.
Unfortunately my mother named Prith died in a earthquake two years before moving to Sydney Australia.
Once we had exited the bus we were met by some scientists who would lead us to the large steel caged elevator which was about 4x6 meters long. I was there informed that Francis Graves who I have only spoken to twice had requested that I go to the bottom while the others do there research 8 k.m in.
The lights that filled this gaping whole exposed a cave like workspace where the elevator came to a halt.
Fabian looks at me like I'm some bastard that betrayed him as he hops off.
The scientist that seems to be superior out of the three, Professor Carlon turns to me with great curiosity.
"Jaya, we have found something."
They all look at me as if I'm some mysterious man hidding a million secrets.
"3 months ago we found an enormous pyrite cube, which in itself is hard enough to believe but what im telling you will reveal itself to be true."
I feel interrogated even though I am not being asked questions. There eyes pierce mine and my fingers twitch with anticipation.
"Enscribed on the cube is 'aakaash ke tairgai pita ke jaya'"
I laugh "Jaya of Terģai father of the sky?"
"Yes" says Professor Carlon with a dead straight face.
Before I get the chance to ask any questions the elevator comes to it's final destination.
Blinding floodlights face the giant pyrite cube standing like a cliff with those rediculous words written on it 'aakaash ke tairgai pita ke jaya'.
I drop my bag and with every question I had leaving my mind I walk up to it.
I can hear my own heart beat as I walk.
As i come within 10 or so feet of it i realise what i thought was my heart beat was actually the pyrites.
The lights darken, Professor Carlon and the other scientists fade out of my sight and I hear the words in my mothers voice "I have missed you Dyaus Pita"
Dyaus Pita in hinduism is Father sky.
I touch the cube and fall.
I see a flash back of when my mother fell into the earthquake followed by an intense purple light. I dont remember seeing that light when it happened all those years ago but as clear as day I see that the purple light was her essence and the transition of her human body reincarnating.
Everything goes black.
"Jaya Dyaus it is me"
I hear in my mothers voice
"Prithvi Mata"
A blue light not only flashes all around me but within in me.
I now look down that mine from 480 km high but can now see mother earths heart.
My mother used to tell me stories of reincarnation and how I must do good in my life. I grew up a Hindu and reincarnated as a Animus apertusian.
It is now I realise that I am a god just as she is.
Mother earth and father sky.
| |
[WP] They dug the deepest hole in the history of Mankind. What they found at the bottom was not rock, not magma, but flesh. Living, pulsing flesh. | I poked the pink wall again and had the sudden distasteful memory of my dad’s beer gut run through my mind. The way he used to grill with his shirt off and get all beet red and sweaty. What in the world were we looking at? Roger shifted the helmet off his gritty forehead and scratched with a greasy hand. Even at the bottom of this shaft, the deepest shaft we had ever been able to drill out, the air moved quickly from the oscillating air vents on the nearby rig and prickled the skin on the back of my neck.
Roger was dumbfounded. The man hadn’t stopped talking for more than a second for the entire 2 weeks I’d worked with him. His silence suddenly made the whole situation stranger. Finally he spit on the ground and looked at me, “What the hell is that?”
“Look, boss, I think we just wait till the engineers get down here and they can do whatever they want with the… well whatever it is,” I said.
Roger frowned at me as he came to a decision and said, “I think we just keep on drillin’. Who knows how long those college boys will take? We’re this close to the core, John. Let’s just finish the job.”
“Just touch it first,” I said.
“Why?” Roger said.
“Just touch it.”
Roger glared at me and then strode right to the wall and put his hand on it. He jerked his hand away, swore, and then put it back on the wall.
“It’s warm… like a…. well, like a dog or something,” Roger said.
The A/C cycled back on and the temp from the fans dropped about 10 degrees. The air swept across us again and the wall. The wall shuddered.
Roger ripped his hand off the wall and took a step back. The whole wall looked like a bowl of Jell-o struck by a hammer.
“Quake!” screamed Roger as he stumbled away from the wall. But I stood and there was no vibration in the ground, just the wall. I gripped Roger’s arm and pointed back to the wall. Something had appeared in the center of the wall, a 20 foot tall glassy pool of black water. Then the pool blinked.
Roger screamed like a girl and stumbled backwards. He tripped and I watched him go down. His head bounced off the rock floor and his helmet spun beside his prone form. The eye locked on the movement of the helmet and a slick pink tentacle whipped out of the wall and grasped Roger’s leg. In a single breath Roger was gone. The last of his work boots disappearing into a newly formed hole in the wall.
I shook and suddenly had an overwhelming desire to run. But it seemed as the eye scanned the room that death was not going to come yet. It couldn’t see me!
I slid my hand to my belt and slowly fumbled a flare into my palm. I cracked the top and the flare roared to life. The eye swung to me in an instant, but it was too late. I had already cocked my arm back, and thanking my parents for 12 years of baseball, threw the flare into the eye with enough adrenalin to strike out Babe Ruth.
The wall suddenly roared as I spun with the follow through and sprinted towards the tunnel. As I strapped into the emergency tunnel pod, the ground started to shake. I jammed the red button and rockets flared on the bottom of the pod. My last view was of the tunnel filling with a kind of liquid from the gargantuan eye. I sped towards the surface and as the distance increased the roar seemed to change in tone. I closed my eyes in relief and then cocked my head. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have sworn there was a baby crying.
| "I don't thing there is any other side to it", said Joe, "it will go on forever."
"Don't be so ridiculous", replied Steve, " when we started, it was only dirt. Soil of different colors, different composition. Then came small rocks, shiny and sparkling. I managed to get a hold of one. As we went deeper, we found metallic ores. Do you really think we will keep discovering different things forever? I think it will end some where. And sooner than you think."
They both continued digging.
It's been almost 200 days since they started digging the earth. It started as prank, to keep digging as long as people can fund but now they are so deep into this, now they want to test the limits.
For 50 more days, it went as it was expected. As they went deeper, it got dense and hot. Not as hot as dying by 3rd degree burns but as hot as bathing in the sweat. The diggers wanted it to end soon, but but the authorities insisted on continuing.
Around 314th day, something weird happened. The dirt started to appear wet, and red. Was not very hot though, but a lot wet. That was not something expected. They hesitated to go deeper, but still continued.
Not soon after that day, when diggers were still digging, they found the rocks, soft as spong and pink as rose. When they tried to go deeper, a sudden gush of thick red fluid came out. It looked like lava, but was not enough hot.
"What is this?" Joe exclaimed. "There is only one way to know." Said Steve and started to dig again. One, two, and in the third blow a loud slapping sound was heard, louder than anything and suddenly everything went black. There was nothing. No Joe, no Steve, not any other digger. Even the hole vanished.
"There are too many mosquitoes in here", Earth told to himself. "Something should be done". Then he sighed, rubbed his arms and started running again. | |
[WP] They dug the deepest hole in the history of Mankind. What they found at the bottom was not rock, not magma, but flesh. Living, pulsing flesh. | The metal plates sizzled hot. I took my gloved fingers and dragged the hard material against the smooth silver. The fabric smoked and I retracted my hand guiltily. My intercom crackled. “Temperature levels high, Jane are you okay?”
“Yes.” I replied and wriggled my hot fingertips. “All set for launch.”
The pod jolted away from the walls and dropped into free-fall. My arms clung to my body and I closed my eyes to stop the dizzy sick from rising inside. The mechanics whirred, metal grinding metal, and then all too soon we were slowing down, breaks grunting and finally the pod stood still - silent in the smoggy air.
I opened my eyes and saw Worlds End - the last pod platform. This was the point Andy had reached - the deepest a human had ever been. His intercom had faded and crackled out - as though to remind us life didn’t exist down here.
I looked between the two spotlights and the jutting metal platform. “Andy?” I whispered, knowing I would never receive an answer. This was where the metal lining ended and dropped off into Earth. The drill lines suddenly revealed and carving their spiral pattern into the diamond rocks. I felt the distance of the long metal tube above and heard a crackle in my ear.
“Jane…Jane?” The voice was calm but sputtered with fear - it was the voice of my father. He hadn’t reccomended me for the job, but I was the best person to follow in Andy’s footsteps - I knew them better than anyone.
“World’s End reached. Vitals good. Disengaging from pod.” I replied in monotone, ignoring the pounding blood. I heard a sigh of relief through the intercom. “Proceed with caution, Soilder.” My father replied used his nickname for me and I almost burst into tears - the pressure was too high down here.
I unhooked the pod from my gravity-reducing suit and floated a moment at World’s End. I glanced around one more time as though expecting to see Andy in his armchair with a whiskey and throwing his head back in laughter, “Got ya!” He shouted and then we zoomed back up to life above.
The tube was empty.
I kicked off and floated down. My headlight flashed on and illuminated the drill walls in a dark orange. I could hear my own breathing and that was it. Sound didn’t travel down here. The press called un Minatours - due to the suit - but I didn’t feel like a monster, I felt like a monster was right behind me, above me, around me…below me.
I floated down. Time passed and my intercom crackled in and out. The suit fed me and took fluids away from me - keeping me alive, sustaining my existence floating within a drill hole thousands of miles inside the Earth. I dozed off at one point. I dreamt of Andy pulling me out of a hole and giving me CPR to bring back my breath. I gasped awake.
I had stopped foating. My feet rocked against something soft, stalling my progress. The orange light reflected stronger down here and I could see the walls were no longer rock. They were faintly pink and they were moving, in, out, in, out. I breathed with the walls and then threw up. The suit slicked away the fluid and I gulped in oxygen.
“Hello.” A voice reverberated my existence. “You must be Andy’s friend.” | The hole had been bored open yesterday. Abandoned work lights still illuminated the huge opening and the destroyed machine that had represented humanity's greatest technological acheivement to date. The lights swung back and forth with intermittant blasts of hot exhaled air, followed by the inhaling breaths of damnation itself.
Miles of thin pink membranes attached to super long bone like structures were filled with pulsating blood vessels. Occasionally the wing like structures stirred and made small flapping motions within the black slime which covered it in patches like spots of sickly perspiration. The black slime pooled into a monstrous ocean of darkness underneath it. Sounds reminescent of a choir of a thousand baluga whales roaring together tumbled out of the darkness.
A lone soldier stood there watching. Most had fled earlier or turned their guns on each other. Viewers across the world went mad. There were riots and suicides and even the collapse of governments and countries. Preachers went on air to say that God had created the firmament of the Earth to separate the waters above from the waters below. Mankind had brought together what God had pushed apart.
People watched and hoped that the soldier could stop it. No one was willing to nuke the hole to stop it, so they hoped the soldier could do it. He didn't run. He didn't shoot himself, surely he was the hero the world needed.
The huge bone like structures with the pig pink fleshy wings attached to them were all attached to a long winding body or perhaps tail of a body for some unknowable and unseen monstrocity deeper within the Earth's core.
Veins pulsed and part of the flesh balled up and twisted into itself. Pus rained upon the soldier as the ball suddenly bursted open. Inside was something white, built like a mockery of a human being, it moved on all fours and was hairless with a mouth full of teeth and eyes milky white like dead fish. It moved with blinding speed towards the soldier.
People cried out in joy as the soldier snapped his rifle up to the ready position. People screamed at their screens for him to shoot the damned thing.
The soldier paused then showed the creature how to reload and use the weapon. Soon hundreds of creatures just like it strode over and learned. They picked up the weapons of the soldiers that had previously fallen and most marched upwards beyond the view of the camera. The rest stayed behind to teach the swarming masses of their brethren which were steadily streaming out of the hole.
The soldier took his helmet off. He was bleeding from his eyes and his ears. Blood trickled out of his nose. He tapped his forehead with his index finger and a single shot rang out slamming into the spot which he had pointed too.
The only person who wasn't weeping on air was a minister who said. "God said let there be light, and now we know what lived in the darkness before that." | |
[WP] You are able to see the sins of people. Small sins look like mice. Larger sins look closer to dogs. You are terrified when you encounter someone with a sin that looks like a dragon. | My eyes scanned lazily over the Sunday mass as I sat upon my regular seat by the altar. The usual fare appeared, coming into wash away their sins in a day of reflection, hoping they could reclaim their innocence with a little penance. But I knew what lay deeper beneath, thousands of mice crawling about in the stomachs of the pious. I saw those I recognized, those who had started as mice and had now progressed to full blown hell beasts. These people had never had an ounce of regret for their actions, and had allowed their sin to fester into something much more sinister. I saw a frail old lady approach, and
I greeted her with my regular plastered on smirk.
"Hello Mrs. Daisy. It's so wonderful to see you. You look absolutely beautiful today."
"Oh... Always the charmer Mr. Dalton!" She said with an equally false sense of surprise. I scanned her up and down and saw the fat, rotting pig inside of her belly, screaming of gluttony. I could barely handle the stench.
"Many other parishioners to get to, I'm sure you understand Mrs. Daisy. Have a wonderful day!" I abruptly pushed past her into the regular rabble, looking around for something interesting. I kept making my way through the crowd of jovial faces until I sensed something that caught my eye. It was an ominous black field, pulsating outwards and inwards. It drew me to it, as if a gravitational force was compelling me to this spot. There were a handsome couple, no older than 30 beaming at me.
"Hello Father" they both said in unison. I had never seen these two before. "Hello my dear friends!" I chimed back. "Are you new in town?" "Yes! We've just moved out from Alabama, and we wanted to get to know the community." I still sensed something strange, but the mice in these people's stomachs were not the answer. Something behind them was still radiating outwards... and it was making my brain pound just being around it. "And who is that behind you, might I ask?" I said with a curl at the end of my tongue that made it sound like venom. "Oh, this is our daughter, Patricia. Pat, come out and say hello to father."
What came next left me completely at awe. A golden face, with beautiful blue eyes and a mischievous smile that made the very air around me feel tight and hot. "Hello Patricia, welcome to our humble Parish" I said, attempting to keep my voice even but failing to mask the tones of excitement. "'Lo Father" she said meekly. That was when I saw it, I looked down at the beautiful girl in front of me and scanned her like all the rest. My throat tightened, and sweat began to pour from my face. Within this girl was something I had never seen in anyone else before. It made me sick to my stomach to see, a great beast with black scales and piercing red eyes, staring up at me, inviting me inside.
"My, but what a beautiful child you have brought into the house of God." I said, the anxiety clearly catching my voice and causing me to back away from this terrifying sight. "Thank you Father, the family chimed in unison." A knowing smile spread across all their faces, as if they knew something was happening. "I must return to my chambers, I fear I am falling ill" I said quickly as I darted back across the Church floor to the solitude of the under croft.
I stopped to catch my breath, but it never came back to me. Panting, I lit a candle and sat down near my bed, trying to collect my thoughts. Suddenly I heard the clamoring of footsteps and tried to collect myself, but it was too late. "You saw him, didn't you Father?" the prettiest little face erupted from the dark, inches from my bed. "No... I... I have no idea what you're talking about little girl." I stammered but I couldn't get the words to sound true no matter how hard I tried. "It's okay Father. I know you're a regular man underneath those priest clothes." The dragon in her stomach hissed and uncoiled itself as she approached my bed, and the lights began to dim. | I couldn’t believe it. Pitch black with long fangs and glimmering scales dancing in the light of the bonfire. I was out alone, or so I thought.
“What could it be” I thought to myself “even serial killers sins were the size of horses, I was told some of the most horrible people in history had elephants but a DRAGON? I felt tainted by it just being there. More terrifying was the little girl sitting beside it, crying
“I didn’t know” she whispered, barley audible
“How could I have? It wasn’t my fault” her crying increased ten fold, tears falling like diamonds
“What did you do?” I asked. I doubted I wanted to know
“ I... I don’t know if I can relive it... but I’ll try...”
I looked at her face, she seemed like she was 5 and 85 at the same time.
“I” she said hardly getting the words out
“I said.... I said that qcatapults were the superior siege weapon ”
| |
[WP] You are able to see the sins of people. Small sins look like mice. Larger sins look closer to dogs. You are terrified when you encounter someone with a sin that looks like a dragon. | You get used to it - that’s what my grandmother told me.
I’ve seen more sin than animals I can name. When she said those words to me it was after a brilliant Christmas affair one year when I was six. We had gone to church every year for it, along with my mother and sister. My dad had a once-in-a-lifetime run-in with a man in a back alley after picking the wrong fight in a bar, so he couldn’t come that year, or any other after that. I often wonder what animals danced in the shadows that night, and when the man broke his bones, if his shadow broke my dad’s as ferociously.
There was a man in the pews I hadn’t seen before. It was a small non-denominational church in an average suburb - there were any number of Catholic Churches nearby that dwarfed it in size and gilding, but here everyone was well acquainted. That’s why I started staring at him initially. I’ve always been a people watcher, and back then I would’ve said maybe God was teaching me to give folks back their privacy.
But that night I stared and stared until we made eye contact. That’s when I saw my first sin. It was a bear cub, a thing of some significance. According to my grandma everything about the animal could tell you the nature of this sin, and nothing about it would tell you what this person had done. A bear was a ferocious beast, not friendly to man, especially when hungry. But a cub wasn’t yet a danger. It could do little damage itself, and still was quite innocent.
But someday the cub would grow up, and few people ever stopped these things from happening. Someday that man was going to go too far. I often think back on him and wonder if that’s why he stopped in on a Christmas of all nights. Was he hoping his cub would go away? Was he trying to nurture it into something loving, something pure?
I don’t think so anymore. I’ve seen so many cubs turn to bears in the dark forest few can see. It gets loud with their bodies moving all through the brush. They climb on shoulders, hang off backs. I see them squeeze through aisles, under tables and over counters. They give little hints about what their puppets are on about. They never interact with the environment - that’s their tell. They don’t bare teeth at dogs or try to protect their humans.
They don’t wander alone. If a cub doesn’t turn into a bear, it might even die. I’ve seen them crawling along, looking sick right before they vanish. I wish I couldn’t, but I see it. Can you imagine watching raw sin expire, and feeling empathy? How do you mourn the loss of evil? Why is such a thing even possible?
I don’t know the answers to any of these questions. My grandmother didn’t either - she was frank about that. She’d never had anyone to guide her along this weird path like I did. Regular people are sometimes consumed with the need to have purpose in life, to have a place they were meant to be and a thing they were meant to do. Grandma was a pretty religious woman, but she thought all of that was a load of shit. She knew when she saw her first wolf there wasn’t a damn reason in hell it was happening to her. Her pastor had told her once what passages to read and how to pray against the things he called demons. She told me that when he used that word, she’d finally realized he didn’t have any idea what it really meant. He said it like a thing he read off a piece of paper that never had any relevance to him. Kind of like when you see coverage of war stories on the news, and you’re sitting at home with a beer in a cozy. You know some bad shit is happening, but you have a goddamn jacket for your beer and you still get mad if you have to walk across the room for something. But people are dying in that moment somewhere else. You know that, don’t you?
Yeah, but you’re never gonna feel it.
I fucking felt it. I felt it breath down my neck.
I was getting a coffee before work about a year ago - a popular place around the corner from my apartment. City life is best for me - I can walk everywhere, and if I see something too heavy or too raw, I’m not distracted behind the wheel. I’m not as tough as grandma was. Anyway, I was in line to order - it was a busy morning. Wednesday I remember, a pretty good week as they go. I was smelling peppermint, and in my mind that was pretty normal because of where I was, even though it was March. I was relaxed, enjoying the scenery of all the small sins following their puppets and whispering in their ears. The scene is comfortable to me, because I can hide, knowing there are twice as many creatures in the room as anyone else thinks, and none of them are looking at me.
But then I realized that peppermint smell - it wasn’t in my nose. It was in my mind. Try and make sense of that - imagine the last time you smelled something so fragrant and delicious you could taste it out of the air. Then imagine that none of it is really there at all. It’s just your mind trying to process something it even knows itself is not there, and it can’t find the right signal to send to you that something is wrong.
Then he brushed my shoulder walking up from behind me. I watched his hand reaching for a cup on the counter. There was a long, thin cord of sorts, wrapped around his arm and coiled up against his palm. It flicked the edge of the cup just before he reached it, tipping it almost enough to spill it backwards towards the barista. He barely caught it with the tips of his fingers, and the cord kept reaching towards the barista, the girl behind the counter. She said something and they both laughed. Out of the corner of my eye I saw his smile as replied, the barista grabbing a rag to clean up his sin’s mess.
Then he turned away from her, squeezing by me. His jacket zipper clacked against a button on my sleeve. His breath was hot in the crowded room. It swam behind my collar and down my shirt - was it on purpose, or do these things just happen? I felt that coil of what was a tail whip at my jacket as he passed, a glimpse of wings in my peripheral stopping my heart dead for a beat. I saw the crane of its neck, like a snake but lined with sharp, thorny growths.
It saw me. I heard it hiss, felt its spittle against my cheek.
My body was cold. My hands felt heavy, my mouth was sweet with that flavor. I still don’t know why it wouldn’t go away - I haven’t had peppermint since then. Even the smell reminds me of the reflection I saw off the glass behind the espresso machine. It spread its wings and let loose a cry. I remember the feeling beneath my feet when the whole building shuddered against the reverberating call, meanwhile everyone talking and laughing, or sitting quietly. Fully and blissfully ignorant to the greatest sin I’ve ever seen.
The greatest sin I’ve ever touched.
Tasted. And it was sweet. | At first I was terrified. Then I remember the old adage, *Love the sin and hate the one that calls it a sin.*
A contrarian expression must have shown on my face because the beast sniffed out a torch worth of fire from it nostrils, extended its giraffe-length neck, and gave me a big-eye quizzical look in return. I thought I was going for a ride on its back with the way it danced in a such a happy circle. I stepped forward trying to make hand signs that I needed to get on the roof of my car so I could hop on its back, when it turned to its ugly and prudently dressed human avatar and sniffed out a stream of fire so bright and carbonizing that I felt the heat from 50 feet away. I got down, opened my car door with the windows rolled down,
“You’re free, now. You can fly away, or, really do anything you wish,” I said as I cranked the engine and floored the gas. There it was following me -- with a goofy face in my rear view mirror.
“Looks like I have a dragon now,” I muttered to myself. | |
[WP] You are able to see the sins of people. Small sins look like mice. Larger sins look closer to dogs. You are terrified when you encounter someone with a sin that looks like a dragon. | It started at 14. The first time I saw the ghost of a dog hovering around someone I nearly shit myself. From there on it was test after test- each one coming back negative. Depression, Anxiety, Bipolar disorder, Schizophrenia. By the time I turned 21 my parents had stopped trying. Don't get me wrong, they were angels, no aura of a rabid dog, only the slightest outline of a mouse around them. They always believed in me, and in eachother. Everyday they worked hard to make sure I felt accepted and loved- and they grew stonger for it. It wasn't a happy moment when I told them I was leaving the house at 25, but I knew I had to go. I spent the next ten years working for a hermit named Peter Lesley in Montana. Peter liked to drink and yell- but he was never angry. He would always rant about his "mission"- which changed hourly. Peter owned a convenient store with a sum total of about 40 customers, always the same regulars, he was my best friend and I his, we spent those years always together and although we gained a reputation for our oddities- we were kings of the Mountains. A few days prior to my 35th birthday Pete woke me from my bunk in the store.
"JACK!" He wailed, tears streaming from his eyes
"Fuck you...fuck off Pete its still dark." I grumbled.
"JACKIE" he repeated between breaths. "I HAVE NEWS."
Pete was this way, always eccentric but when I saw his tears- I shot up from my bunk
"PETE! WHATS THE NEWS?!" I screamed. This was our game.
His demeanor shifted totally, as it was prone to do. His eyes glassed over and a hard frown grew on his face.
"Phone in from Minneapolis, Your mom passed away."
He said it like he was telling me about the fucking weather. My heart cracked and I felt my stomach begin to implode.
"Where will we stay?" Pete asked, staring deeply at a spot on my forehead. A thing he does to get me to laugh. Had to hand it to Pete, he knew best how to make me smile.
The heartbreak was coming in waves and I wasn't one to show much emotion- nonetheless I fought off tears.
"You're coming with me?" I choked.
Pete's frown reversed into a smile. "Funeral is tomorrow- GOTTA PACK, PACK UP. Hey, Jackie-Jack, Im sorry."
"I know Pete, its okay."
The next day we were on our way in Pete's orange and sand colored pickup truck. Pete had started the ride by doing what he normally does and humming a different tune than the music he was blasting.
I had been sobbing a little to myself until "Lookin' out my backdoor" by CCR came over the radio.
"Country shit! JAX n' PETER!" He howeled out his window. Again I fought laughter until I couldn't cry anymore.
"Do-Do-Do Looking out my backdoor!" I sang, my face red from a mixture of crying and the cold air whipping my face.
7 hours went by like this before we arrived. Pete beelined to the door but I stood in shock. Not a detail was different, it was the same cream stucko siding as ten years ago. I marveled for a moment in front of the house I grew up in. Eventually I gathered myself and joined Peter at door and rang the bell.
I glanced at Peter for comfort, to which he returned an uncharacteristicly sympathetic smile.
The door creaked open.
The next moments froze me, carving an unforgettable sight into my eyes. A wing, black and huge wedged its way out the door. Next a foot, then another wing. I recoiled from the door way, but Pete didn't even flinch.
Out from the entrance came the head of a Dragon, just as you would imagine it. Montrous in size and character, Black and red scales the size of dinner plates. It jettisoned into the sky and began circling in epic movements over our house.
"You must be Jack's Boss, Peter was it?" A sinister and familiar voice asked from the doorway.
I fell to my knees at what I saw. My father standing in our doorway, no different in appearance as the last time I'd seen him ten years prior. With a vibrant, enormous, Dragon perched on the roof over his head.
...
| At first I was terrified. Then I remember the old adage, *Love the sin and hate the one that calls it a sin.*
A contrarian expression must have shown on my face because the beast sniffed out a torch worth of fire from it nostrils, extended its giraffe-length neck, and gave me a big-eye quizzical look in return. I thought I was going for a ride on its back with the way it danced in a such a happy circle. I stepped forward trying to make hand signs that I needed to get on the roof of my car so I could hop on its back, when it turned to its ugly and prudently dressed human avatar and sniffed out a stream of fire so bright and carbonizing that I felt the heat from 50 feet away. I got down, opened my car door with the windows rolled down,
“You’re free, now. You can fly away, or, really do anything you wish,” I said as I cranked the engine and floored the gas. There it was following me -- with a goofy face in my rear view mirror.
“Looks like I have a dragon now,” I muttered to myself. | |
[WP] You are able to see the sins of people. Small sins look like mice. Larger sins look closer to dogs. You are terrified when you encounter someone with a sin that looks like a dragon. | For as long as I can remember I've always been able to see them. Ghostly animals following in the footsteps of people, every person I've ever seen has had them. From what I've gathered the larger and darker the apparitions, the worse the sins of the person they follow. I think the type of animals might give a hint to their nature as well. My little sister Alice, the purest most innocent soul I know has only a single snow white bird that perches on her shoulder. Once I even saw a convicted serial killer walking out of court on TV flanked by two dark grey, almost black mastiffs. That was the worst I've ever seen, most people just have a few rats and mice or maybe a cat or rabbit.
That was until one day. The day when everything changed for me and I didn't even know it. I was out running my usual errands. A light grey rabbit perched on the counter, inspecting my purchases as as the grocery store clerk printed my receipt.
"Sir do you have a membership with us? Members receive discounts on specific items and—"
I cut her off mid sentence "Thanks but I'm good." I flashed her a quick smile and grabbed my bags heading for the exit.
As I walked out I caught my reflection in the full sized mirror by the clothing section. Slim build, brown hair, and cold blue eyes. Face a neutral mask. Casual and subtle clothes, no bright colours. And no ghostly animals to be found. Same as always.
I sighed and continued on my way. It'd always bothered me. It was mystery enough that I could see the sins of others, but why was it that the only sins invisible to me where my own? Surely they must be there. I knew I was no angel, most definitely not a better person than my sister and even she had that single white bird fluttering about her always.
I was distracted on the drive home, thinking of all the animals I had seen that day and returning to the same question over and over. *Why can't I see my own?*
That's probably why I didn't see the truck coming. Later they told me it had run a red light, t-boning me in the middle of an intersection. But in the moment all I remember seeing was the blinding light of its headlights then the screech and crunch of metal and glass and then... nothing. Just blackness. A void.
*Except it wasn't nothing. The darkness moved. A single pale blue eye flicked opened and regarded me with cold intelligence. A shiver ran down my spine. I knew what I was seeing. It was...*
I woke in a cold sweat. I was in a hospital room. IV tubes connected to both arms and all I could feel was a sort of warm, pleasant numbness. A nurse noticed me blinking and hurried over. She began to explain where I was and what had happened. Apparently it had been a few days, I had been in critical condition but was recovering remarkably well. Practically miraculous was how she put it. I'd be free to go soon but would have to take it easy and come for regular checkups for a few weeks.
As she talked I stared at the single white rabbit sitting patiently behind her and tried to recall what I had seen. I knew it was important, if I could just remember. But it was gone. Lost to the ether of unconsciousness.
 
A few weeks had passed and I was pretty much good as new. My knee still gave me trouble sometimes but I was off the painkillers now and going about my daily life with little to no trouble.
I was sitting in a coffee shop, sipping an americano and thinking back to that day as had become my habit. I was still trying to recall something just out of reach, it niggled at my brain like one of the thousands of ghostly mice I saw everyday with an ethereal wedge of cheese.
Someone sat down at my table. I looked up, startled out of my musing.
"Hi you must be Charlie right?" a young woman, blonde hair and pretty smiled at me from across the table. Her grey eyes seemed to pierce right through me making me shift uncomfortably.
"Yeah, that's right. And you are...?"
"Emma. Sorry, should've introduced myself first I guess." she looked down with a nervous giggle "It's just... I've been looking for you for a while and it's exciting to finally meet you."
"Looking for me? Why?" I was taken aback, could she be with my insurance company? Some kind of film producer looking to make a documentary about my accident? I don't normally get approached out of the blue like this.
And then it clicked. There had been something off about her from the start but I had only just put it together. The animals. Or more specifically, the *lack* of animals. She had none. No cats, no dogs, no rabbits, not even a single mouse skittering around her black high heels.
*Just like me.*
"You noticed huh?"
"W-what?" I was taken aback for a second time in as many minutes. Normally I wouldn't let my expression reveal my scrutiny so obviously, I rearranged my face into a polite mask and cleared my throat. "Noticed what exactly?"
She leaned in closer and conspiratorial gleam in her eyes and a mischievous smirk on her lips. "No animals." she whispered
I almost spat up my coffee I was so shocked. Never in my life had I met another person with knowledge of my ability, let alone one with my particular lack of animals.
"Don't worry," she said still smirking "I can see them too. I noticed you in the hospital, I work there as a nurse. I've seen them all my life and then I saw you and I saw you were like me, no animals following you."
The floodgates had opened and I just sat back and took it in. She was clearly excited, her face animated as she told me her life story growing up seeing the sins of others and I could relate to many of her experiences. Then she mentioned something that really got my attention.
"But the thing is, when you first came in from your accident... There was something there."
"Something?" I was leaning in too now, fully engaged eyes locked on her face "What kind of something?"
"An animal. But..."
"But what?"
She took a deep breath. Her whole posture had changed and she seemed almost on edge. "It was a dragon. A massive black dragon with ice blue eyes. It followed you when they brought you in the stretcher. And it stayed by your side until the moment when you opened your eyes. Then it faded away like smoke. But it was definitely there."
A sudden jolt ran through my body as if I'd just been struck with lightning. I remembered. A great dragon, black as night with eyes as cold as ice. With eyes like mine. It had spoken to me in my hazy unconscious dreams. Whispered things to me, things about myself that had pierced me to my core. Things that I had tried to ignore, pretended not to notice my whole life.
I was different from other people. Would never, could never be the same as them. And not just because of my ability to see sin. It went deeper than that. To the very core of who I was.
I was the monster. I was the dragon. Others' sins were separate from them. They knew right from wrong, could *feel* it when they went astray. Their sins followed them like lost spirits, unwanted and rejected because they didn't want their sins to be a part of themselves. I was different. The sin was me and I was the sin, we were inseparable.
As I looked up into Emma's eyes I saw the dragon behind them as well, staring back at me with steely grey eyes, and I knew she could see the dragon in me. From somewhere in the depths of my soul I could hear it's deep rumbling chuckle and I couldn't help but smile too.
*About time you realized. Maybe now we can have some real fun.*
 
End
- - - -
*Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed or have any criticisms please feel free to comment, I'm considering opening a subreddit for my writing so be sure to let me know if you'd be interested in something like that as well :)* | At first I was terrified. Then I remember the old adage, *Love the sin and hate the one that calls it a sin.*
A contrarian expression must have shown on my face because the beast sniffed out a torch worth of fire from it nostrils, extended its giraffe-length neck, and gave me a big-eye quizzical look in return. I thought I was going for a ride on its back with the way it danced in a such a happy circle. I stepped forward trying to make hand signs that I needed to get on the roof of my car so I could hop on its back, when it turned to its ugly and prudently dressed human avatar and sniffed out a stream of fire so bright and carbonizing that I felt the heat from 50 feet away. I got down, opened my car door with the windows rolled down,
“You’re free, now. You can fly away, or, really do anything you wish,” I said as I cranked the engine and floored the gas. There it was following me -- with a goofy face in my rear view mirror.
“Looks like I have a dragon now,” I muttered to myself. | |
[WP] You are able to see the sins of people. Small sins look like mice. Larger sins look closer to dogs. You are terrified when you encounter someone with a sin that looks like a dragon. | I've got some particular skills that make me more suited to my job. I'm harsh, I've got a fairly distinct lack of morality, the usual suspects, but most importantly, I can see people's sins. Small ones look like mice, and as the sins get bigger, the animal gets bigger. I've encountered people with hordes of mice following them, and I've encountered people with as many as three whole bears. But nothing like this.
You see, I'm a prison warden. I run the administrative division of South Point Prison, and my responsibilities include keeping track of people's crimes, as well as letting people go free if their crimes are deemed insignificant enough. I also conduct job interviews and get new hires into the system. My office overlooks the prison cafeteria - reinforced glass separates the two rooms, of course.
I was in an interview a couple weeks ago when I saw a looming figure outside the office window - "what in the hell?" was the first thing that ran through my head. I looked over, and there it was. A dragon. Fucking massive, this thing was, easily fifteen feet tall, with smoke coming out the nostrils and eyes that looked like they'd come straight from Sauron's tower. I told the interviewee to bear with me for a minute, and with the optic installed in the window, I zoomed in on the person it was following. He, of course, was an inmate, with his PrisonID number stitched on his arm. 039053.
I went back to my desk, and plugged the PID number into my inmate lookup program...
039053 | Shkreli, Martin
...son of a bitch. | On a bench I watch and wait,
Mull my thoughts and pass the time,
Observing the people and their sins of late.
They move to and fro,
Sins like dogs and mice,
Changing in form as they grow.
Oft I've found the sins correlate,
Pigs for glutton and and tiger for wrath,
Their size and crime commensurate.
When one day I spied a tired beggar,
His clothes ragged and form bedraggled,
Followed by a winged creature.
Its wings outstretched it swarmed the road,
People passing underneath with no awareness,
Eyes wandering to and fro,
Like a cat searching for lost prey.
The beggar sat next to me,
"Lovely day, isn't it?",
I nodded and wondered what his sin could be.
"I wasn't always this way" spoke he,
Dug in his pockets and pulled a card,
"CEO, Alistar Industries".
The dragon's eyes leveled with mine,
And seemed filled with regret,
Faceted like jewels almost divine.
"Took emergency measures, wanted to continue the ride",
"The company collapsed",
"Due to my arrogance and pride".
"And all the workers," asked I,
"Without work; many had invested in Alistair".
He turned away with a sigh.
The dragon curled up to sleep,
Wrapped its tail around the man,
His dreams dark and deep. | |
[WP] You are able to see the sins of people. Small sins look like mice. Larger sins look closer to dogs. You are terrified when you encounter someone with a sin that looks like a dragon. | For as long as I can remember I've always been able to see them. Ghostly animals following in the footsteps of people, every person I've ever seen has had them. From what I've gathered the larger and darker the apparitions, the worse the sins of the person they follow. I think the type of animals might give a hint to their nature as well. My little sister Alice, the purest most innocent soul I know has only a single snow white bird that perches on her shoulder. Once I even saw a convicted serial killer walking out of court on TV flanked by two dark grey, almost black mastiffs. That was the worst I've ever seen, most people just have a few rats and mice or maybe a cat or rabbit.
That was until one day. The day when everything changed for me and I didn't even know it. I was out running my usual errands. A light grey rabbit perched on the counter, inspecting my purchases as as the grocery store clerk printed my receipt.
"Sir do you have a membership with us? Members receive discounts on specific items and—"
I cut her off mid sentence "Thanks but I'm good." I flashed her a quick smile and grabbed my bags heading for the exit.
As I walked out I caught my reflection in the full sized mirror by the clothing section. Slim build, brown hair, and cold blue eyes. Face a neutral mask. Casual and subtle clothes, no bright colours. And no ghostly animals to be found. Same as always.
I sighed and continued on my way. It'd always bothered me. It was mystery enough that I could see the sins of others, but why was it that the only sins invisible to me where my own? Surely they must be there. I knew I was no angel, most definitely not a better person than my sister and even she had that single white bird fluttering about her always.
I was distracted on the drive home, thinking of all the animals I had seen that day and returning to the same question over and over. *Why can't I see my own?*
That's probably why I didn't see the truck coming. Later they told me it had run a red light, t-boning me in the middle of an intersection. But in the moment all I remember seeing was the blinding light of its headlights then the screech and crunch of metal and glass and then... nothing. Just blackness. A void.
*Except it wasn't nothing. The darkness moved. A single pale blue eye flicked opened and regarded me with cold intelligence. A shiver ran down my spine. I knew what I was seeing. It was...*
I woke in a cold sweat. I was in a hospital room. IV tubes connected to both arms and all I could feel was a sort of warm, pleasant numbness. A nurse noticed me blinking and hurried over. She began to explain where I was and what had happened. Apparently it had been a few days, I had been in critical condition but was recovering remarkably well. Practically miraculous was how she put it. I'd be free to go soon but would have to take it easy and come for regular checkups for a few weeks.
As she talked I stared at the single white rabbit sitting patiently behind her and tried to recall what I had seen. I knew it was important, if I could just remember. But it was gone. Lost to the ether of unconsciousness.
 
A few weeks had passed and I was pretty much good as new. My knee still gave me trouble sometimes but I was off the painkillers now and going about my daily life with little to no trouble.
I was sitting in a coffee shop, sipping an americano and thinking back to that day as had become my habit. I was still trying to recall something just out of reach, it niggled at my brain like one of the thousands of ghostly mice I saw everyday with an ethereal wedge of cheese.
Someone sat down at my table. I looked up, startled out of my musing.
"Hi you must be Charlie right?" a young woman, blonde hair and pretty smiled at me from across the table. Her grey eyes seemed to pierce right through me making me shift uncomfortably.
"Yeah, that's right. And you are...?"
"Emma. Sorry, should've introduced myself first I guess." she looked down with a nervous giggle "It's just... I've been looking for you for a while and it's exciting to finally meet you."
"Looking for me? Why?" I was taken aback, could she be with my insurance company? Some kind of film producer looking to make a documentary about my accident? I don't normally get approached out of the blue like this.
And then it clicked. There had been something off about her from the start but I had only just put it together. The animals. Or more specifically, the *lack* of animals. She had none. No cats, no dogs, no rabbits, not even a single mouse skittering around her black high heels.
*Just like me.*
"You noticed huh?"
"W-what?" I was taken aback for a second time in as many minutes. Normally I wouldn't let my expression reveal my scrutiny so obviously, I rearranged my face into a polite mask and cleared my throat. "Noticed what exactly?"
She leaned in closer and conspiratorial gleam in her eyes and a mischievous smirk on her lips. "No animals." she whispered
I almost spat up my coffee I was so shocked. Never in my life had I met another person with knowledge of my ability, let alone one with my particular lack of animals.
"Don't worry," she said still smirking "I can see them too. I noticed you in the hospital, I work there as a nurse. I've seen them all my life and then I saw you and I saw you were like me, no animals following you."
The floodgates had opened and I just sat back and took it in. She was clearly excited, her face animated as she told me her life story growing up seeing the sins of others and I could relate to many of her experiences. Then she mentioned something that really got my attention.
"But the thing is, when you first came in from your accident... There was something there."
"Something?" I was leaning in too now, fully engaged eyes locked on her face "What kind of something?"
"An animal. But..."
"But what?"
She took a deep breath. Her whole posture had changed and she seemed almost on edge. "It was a dragon. A massive black dragon with ice blue eyes. It followed you when they brought you in the stretcher. And it stayed by your side until the moment when you opened your eyes. Then it faded away like smoke. But it was definitely there."
A sudden jolt ran through my body as if I'd just been struck with lightning. I remembered. A great dragon, black as night with eyes as cold as ice. With eyes like mine. It had spoken to me in my hazy unconscious dreams. Whispered things to me, things about myself that had pierced me to my core. Things that I had tried to ignore, pretended not to notice my whole life.
I was different from other people. Would never, could never be the same as them. And not just because of my ability to see sin. It went deeper than that. To the very core of who I was.
I was the monster. I was the dragon. Others' sins were separate from them. They knew right from wrong, could *feel* it when they went astray. Their sins followed them like lost spirits, unwanted and rejected because they didn't want their sins to be a part of themselves. I was different. The sin was me and I was the sin, we were inseparable.
As I looked up into Emma's eyes I saw the dragon behind them as well, staring back at me with steely grey eyes, and I knew she could see the dragon in me. From somewhere in the depths of my soul I could hear it's deep rumbling chuckle and I couldn't help but smile too.
*About time you realized. Maybe now we can have some real fun.*
 
End
- - - -
*Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed or have any criticisms please feel free to comment, I'm considering opening a subreddit for my writing so be sure to let me know if you'd be interested in something like that as well :)* | On a bench I watch and wait,
Mull my thoughts and pass the time,
Observing the people and their sins of late.
They move to and fro,
Sins like dogs and mice,
Changing in form as they grow.
Oft I've found the sins correlate,
Pigs for glutton and and tiger for wrath,
Their size and crime commensurate.
When one day I spied a tired beggar,
His clothes ragged and form bedraggled,
Followed by a winged creature.
Its wings outstretched it swarmed the road,
People passing underneath with no awareness,
Eyes wandering to and fro,
Like a cat searching for lost prey.
The beggar sat next to me,
"Lovely day, isn't it?",
I nodded and wondered what his sin could be.
"I wasn't always this way" spoke he,
Dug in his pockets and pulled a card,
"CEO, Alistar Industries".
The dragon's eyes leveled with mine,
And seemed filled with regret,
Faceted like jewels almost divine.
"Took emergency measures, wanted to continue the ride",
"The company collapsed",
"Due to my arrogance and pride".
"And all the workers," asked I,
"Without work; many had invested in Alistair".
He turned away with a sigh.
The dragon curled up to sleep,
Wrapped its tail around the man,
His dreams dark and deep. | |
[WP] You are able to see the sins of people. Small sins look like mice. Larger sins look closer to dogs. You are terrified when you encounter someone with a sin that looks like a dragon. | For as long as I can remember I've always been able to see them. Ghostly animals following in the footsteps of people, every person I've ever seen has had them. From what I've gathered the larger and darker the apparitions, the worse the sins of the person they follow. I think the type of animals might give a hint to their nature as well. My little sister Alice, the purest most innocent soul I know has only a single snow white bird that perches on her shoulder. Once I even saw a convicted serial killer walking out of court on TV flanked by two dark grey, almost black mastiffs. That was the worst I've ever seen, most people just have a few rats and mice or maybe a cat or rabbit.
That was until one day. The day when everything changed for me and I didn't even know it. I was out running my usual errands. A light grey rabbit perched on the counter, inspecting my purchases as as the grocery store clerk printed my receipt.
"Sir do you have a membership with us? Members receive discounts on specific items and—"
I cut her off mid sentence "Thanks but I'm good." I flashed her a quick smile and grabbed my bags heading for the exit.
As I walked out I caught my reflection in the full sized mirror by the clothing section. Slim build, brown hair, and cold blue eyes. Face a neutral mask. Casual and subtle clothes, no bright colours. And no ghostly animals to be found. Same as always.
I sighed and continued on my way. It'd always bothered me. It was mystery enough that I could see the sins of others, but why was it that the only sins invisible to me where my own? Surely they must be there. I knew I was no angel, most definitely not a better person than my sister and even she had that single white bird fluttering about her always.
I was distracted on the drive home, thinking of all the animals I had seen that day and returning to the same question over and over. *Why can't I see my own?*
That's probably why I didn't see the truck coming. Later they told me it had run a red light, t-boning me in the middle of an intersection. But in the moment all I remember seeing was the blinding light of its headlights then the screech and crunch of metal and glass and then... nothing. Just blackness. A void.
*Except it wasn't nothing. The darkness moved. A single pale blue eye flicked opened and regarded me with cold intelligence. A shiver ran down my spine. I knew what I was seeing. It was...*
I woke in a cold sweat. I was in a hospital room. IV tubes connected to both arms and all I could feel was a sort of warm, pleasant numbness. A nurse noticed me blinking and hurried over. She began to explain where I was and what had happened. Apparently it had been a few days, I had been in critical condition but was recovering remarkably well. Practically miraculous was how she put it. I'd be free to go soon but would have to take it easy and come for regular checkups for a few weeks.
As she talked I stared at the single white rabbit sitting patiently behind her and tried to recall what I had seen. I knew it was important, if I could just remember. But it was gone. Lost to the ether of unconsciousness.
 
A few weeks had passed and I was pretty much good as new. My knee still gave me trouble sometimes but I was off the painkillers now and going about my daily life with little to no trouble.
I was sitting in a coffee shop, sipping an americano and thinking back to that day as had become my habit. I was still trying to recall something just out of reach, it niggled at my brain like one of the thousands of ghostly mice I saw everyday with an ethereal wedge of cheese.
Someone sat down at my table. I looked up, startled out of my musing.
"Hi you must be Charlie right?" a young woman, blonde hair and pretty smiled at me from across the table. Her grey eyes seemed to pierce right through me making me shift uncomfortably.
"Yeah, that's right. And you are...?"
"Emma. Sorry, should've introduced myself first I guess." she looked down with a nervous giggle "It's just... I've been looking for you for a while and it's exciting to finally meet you."
"Looking for me? Why?" I was taken aback, could she be with my insurance company? Some kind of film producer looking to make a documentary about my accident? I don't normally get approached out of the blue like this.
And then it clicked. There had been something off about her from the start but I had only just put it together. The animals. Or more specifically, the *lack* of animals. She had none. No cats, no dogs, no rabbits, not even a single mouse skittering around her black high heels.
*Just like me.*
"You noticed huh?"
"W-what?" I was taken aback for a second time in as many minutes. Normally I wouldn't let my expression reveal my scrutiny so obviously, I rearranged my face into a polite mask and cleared my throat. "Noticed what exactly?"
She leaned in closer and conspiratorial gleam in her eyes and a mischievous smirk on her lips. "No animals." she whispered
I almost spat up my coffee I was so shocked. Never in my life had I met another person with knowledge of my ability, let alone one with my particular lack of animals.
"Don't worry," she said still smirking "I can see them too. I noticed you in the hospital, I work there as a nurse. I've seen them all my life and then I saw you and I saw you were like me, no animals following you."
The floodgates had opened and I just sat back and took it in. She was clearly excited, her face animated as she told me her life story growing up seeing the sins of others and I could relate to many of her experiences. Then she mentioned something that really got my attention.
"But the thing is, when you first came in from your accident... There was something there."
"Something?" I was leaning in too now, fully engaged eyes locked on her face "What kind of something?"
"An animal. But..."
"But what?"
She took a deep breath. Her whole posture had changed and she seemed almost on edge. "It was a dragon. A massive black dragon with ice blue eyes. It followed you when they brought you in the stretcher. And it stayed by your side until the moment when you opened your eyes. Then it faded away like smoke. But it was definitely there."
A sudden jolt ran through my body as if I'd just been struck with lightning. I remembered. A great dragon, black as night with eyes as cold as ice. With eyes like mine. It had spoken to me in my hazy unconscious dreams. Whispered things to me, things about myself that had pierced me to my core. Things that I had tried to ignore, pretended not to notice my whole life.
I was different from other people. Would never, could never be the same as them. And not just because of my ability to see sin. It went deeper than that. To the very core of who I was.
I was the monster. I was the dragon. Others' sins were separate from them. They knew right from wrong, could *feel* it when they went astray. Their sins followed them like lost spirits, unwanted and rejected because they didn't want their sins to be a part of themselves. I was different. The sin was me and I was the sin, we were inseparable.
As I looked up into Emma's eyes I saw the dragon behind them as well, staring back at me with steely grey eyes, and I knew she could see the dragon in me. From somewhere in the depths of my soul I could hear it's deep rumbling chuckle and I couldn't help but smile too.
*About time you realized. Maybe now we can have some real fun.*
 
End
- - - -
*Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed or have any criticisms please feel free to comment, I'm considering opening a subreddit for my writing so be sure to let me know if you'd be interested in something like that as well :)* | I've got some particular skills that make me more suited to my job. I'm harsh, I've got a fairly distinct lack of morality, the usual suspects, but most importantly, I can see people's sins. Small ones look like mice, and as the sins get bigger, the animal gets bigger. I've encountered people with hordes of mice following them, and I've encountered people with as many as three whole bears. But nothing like this.
You see, I'm a prison warden. I run the administrative division of South Point Prison, and my responsibilities include keeping track of people's crimes, as well as letting people go free if their crimes are deemed insignificant enough. I also conduct job interviews and get new hires into the system. My office overlooks the prison cafeteria - reinforced glass separates the two rooms, of course.
I was in an interview a couple weeks ago when I saw a looming figure outside the office window - "what in the hell?" was the first thing that ran through my head. I looked over, and there it was. A dragon. Fucking massive, this thing was, easily fifteen feet tall, with smoke coming out the nostrils and eyes that looked like they'd come straight from Sauron's tower. I told the interviewee to bear with me for a minute, and with the optic installed in the window, I zoomed in on the person it was following. He, of course, was an inmate, with his PrisonID number stitched on his arm. 039053.
I went back to my desk, and plugged the PID number into my inmate lookup program...
039053 | Shkreli, Martin
...son of a bitch. | |
[WP] You are able to see the sins of people. Small sins look like mice. Larger sins look closer to dogs. You are terrified when you encounter someone with a sin that looks like a dragon. | For as long as I can remember I've always been able to see them. Ghostly animals following in the footsteps of people, every person I've ever seen has had them. From what I've gathered the larger and darker the apparitions, the worse the sins of the person they follow. I think the type of animals might give a hint to their nature as well. My little sister Alice, the purest most innocent soul I know has only a single snow white bird that perches on her shoulder. Once I even saw a convicted serial killer walking out of court on TV flanked by two dark grey, almost black mastiffs. That was the worst I've ever seen, most people just have a few rats and mice or maybe a cat or rabbit.
That was until one day. The day when everything changed for me and I didn't even know it. I was out running my usual errands. A light grey rabbit perched on the counter, inspecting my purchases as as the grocery store clerk printed my receipt.
"Sir do you have a membership with us? Members receive discounts on specific items and—"
I cut her off mid sentence "Thanks but I'm good." I flashed her a quick smile and grabbed my bags heading for the exit.
As I walked out I caught my reflection in the full sized mirror by the clothing section. Slim build, brown hair, and cold blue eyes. Face a neutral mask. Casual and subtle clothes, no bright colours. And no ghostly animals to be found. Same as always.
I sighed and continued on my way. It'd always bothered me. It was mystery enough that I could see the sins of others, but why was it that the only sins invisible to me where my own? Surely they must be there. I knew I was no angel, most definitely not a better person than my sister and even she had that single white bird fluttering about her always.
I was distracted on the drive home, thinking of all the animals I had seen that day and returning to the same question over and over. *Why can't I see my own?*
That's probably why I didn't see the truck coming. Later they told me it had run a red light, t-boning me in the middle of an intersection. But in the moment all I remember seeing was the blinding light of its headlights then the screech and crunch of metal and glass and then... nothing. Just blackness. A void.
*Except it wasn't nothing. The darkness moved. A single pale blue eye flicked opened and regarded me with cold intelligence. A shiver ran down my spine. I knew what I was seeing. It was...*
I woke in a cold sweat. I was in a hospital room. IV tubes connected to both arms and all I could feel was a sort of warm, pleasant numbness. A nurse noticed me blinking and hurried over. She began to explain where I was and what had happened. Apparently it had been a few days, I had been in critical condition but was recovering remarkably well. Practically miraculous was how she put it. I'd be free to go soon but would have to take it easy and come for regular checkups for a few weeks.
As she talked I stared at the single white rabbit sitting patiently behind her and tried to recall what I had seen. I knew it was important, if I could just remember. But it was gone. Lost to the ether of unconsciousness.
 
A few weeks had passed and I was pretty much good as new. My knee still gave me trouble sometimes but I was off the painkillers now and going about my daily life with little to no trouble.
I was sitting in a coffee shop, sipping an americano and thinking back to that day as had become my habit. I was still trying to recall something just out of reach, it niggled at my brain like one of the thousands of ghostly mice I saw everyday with an ethereal wedge of cheese.
Someone sat down at my table. I looked up, startled out of my musing.
"Hi you must be Charlie right?" a young woman, blonde hair and pretty smiled at me from across the table. Her grey eyes seemed to pierce right through me making me shift uncomfortably.
"Yeah, that's right. And you are...?"
"Emma. Sorry, should've introduced myself first I guess." she looked down with a nervous giggle "It's just... I've been looking for you for a while and it's exciting to finally meet you."
"Looking for me? Why?" I was taken aback, could she be with my insurance company? Some kind of film producer looking to make a documentary about my accident? I don't normally get approached out of the blue like this.
And then it clicked. There had been something off about her from the start but I had only just put it together. The animals. Or more specifically, the *lack* of animals. She had none. No cats, no dogs, no rabbits, not even a single mouse skittering around her black high heels.
*Just like me.*
"You noticed huh?"
"W-what?" I was taken aback for a second time in as many minutes. Normally I wouldn't let my expression reveal my scrutiny so obviously, I rearranged my face into a polite mask and cleared my throat. "Noticed what exactly?"
She leaned in closer and conspiratorial gleam in her eyes and a mischievous smirk on her lips. "No animals." she whispered
I almost spat up my coffee I was so shocked. Never in my life had I met another person with knowledge of my ability, let alone one with my particular lack of animals.
"Don't worry," she said still smirking "I can see them too. I noticed you in the hospital, I work there as a nurse. I've seen them all my life and then I saw you and I saw you were like me, no animals following you."
The floodgates had opened and I just sat back and took it in. She was clearly excited, her face animated as she told me her life story growing up seeing the sins of others and I could relate to many of her experiences. Then she mentioned something that really got my attention.
"But the thing is, when you first came in from your accident... There was something there."
"Something?" I was leaning in too now, fully engaged eyes locked on her face "What kind of something?"
"An animal. But..."
"But what?"
She took a deep breath. Her whole posture had changed and she seemed almost on edge. "It was a dragon. A massive black dragon with ice blue eyes. It followed you when they brought you in the stretcher. And it stayed by your side until the moment when you opened your eyes. Then it faded away like smoke. But it was definitely there."
A sudden jolt ran through my body as if I'd just been struck with lightning. I remembered. A great dragon, black as night with eyes as cold as ice. With eyes like mine. It had spoken to me in my hazy unconscious dreams. Whispered things to me, things about myself that had pierced me to my core. Things that I had tried to ignore, pretended not to notice my whole life.
I was different from other people. Would never, could never be the same as them. And not just because of my ability to see sin. It went deeper than that. To the very core of who I was.
I was the monster. I was the dragon. Others' sins were separate from them. They knew right from wrong, could *feel* it when they went astray. Their sins followed them like lost spirits, unwanted and rejected because they didn't want their sins to be a part of themselves. I was different. The sin was me and I was the sin, we were inseparable.
As I looked up into Emma's eyes I saw the dragon behind them as well, staring back at me with steely grey eyes, and I knew she could see the dragon in me. From somewhere in the depths of my soul I could hear it's deep rumbling chuckle and I couldn't help but smile too.
*About time you realized. Maybe now we can have some real fun.*
 
End
- - - -
*Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed or have any criticisms please feel free to comment, I'm considering opening a subreddit for my writing so be sure to let me know if you'd be interested in something like that as well :)* | *Alright,* thought the girl in the yellow raincoat, passing a small and wiry dog. *I guess these days even a dog can sin.* Following the dog was a small and grotesque looking toad, hopping along happily in the muddy city sidewalk puddles. She wasn't sure which disturbed her more; the pores oozing along the toad's mottled gray flesh, or the way it looked so wholeheartedly content in the urban sun storm. She wasn't sure she wanted to think of sins as being capable of ANY emotion, even happiness.
She'd seen a great many at this point in her life, of course. Sins, that is. She was only ten years old (Double digits!) but she'd figured out the mystery behind the creatures that only she could see already. She knew that they were sins because she'd seen people doing naughty things, then a frog or a toad or a dog or even a HORSE one time would pop up out of thin air and join the parade tailing the evil doer. Sometimes they'd even look her right in the eyes. She shuddered at the memory, glancing up at her mother walking tall and proud with her click-clacking black heels in front of her, just to remind herself she was still there and safety was assured.
She wasn't sure what animal was what sin, or even if they were correlated in any way. Being ten, she really didn't know many sins yet anyhow.
"Don't steal, Tabitha! That's a sin." her mother would reprimand her harshly, her childish fingers half way out of a cookie jar.
"Don't lie, Tabitha! That's a sin." She'd follow, as the girl tried to deny ever having her hand in the jar at all.
That and other such small grievances were the extent of her knowledge.
Still, she'd learned to keep a cautious and wary eye on those who had a great many animals, or animals that were too large for comfort.
Her mother led her around the busy city streets, dodging the angry and irritated adults who seemed to have forgotten that a little water couldn't hurt them.
A buisness-y looking man with a big gut and a briefcase straining at the seams rushed by and knocked into her with his elbow, not even glancing back to apologize.
A woman with a fussy baby cocooned around her front glanced at her in a maternal way as she scurried on, shielding her child with a newspaper while her own head got drenched.
They all had sins, obviously. Tabitha (or as her friends at West brook Elementary called her, Tabby cat) had come to the conclusion that you really couldn't get through life without picking up one or two sins, at least. She'd even had some for a while, though she had gotten rid of them by doing good deeds equal to their badness.
That was another trick she'd learned.
Her mother glanced back at her and reached for her hand, ushering her into a little bakery they visited once or twice a week for fresh bread.
Inside it was warm and steamy and it smelled delicious. Her mother went to the low granite counter to pick up their order; which had already been made and wrapped, while Tabitha eyed the sweets in the case with a covetous stare. Her mother didn't approve of all the sugar, but once or twice a year she'd buy Tabby a big pink cupcake or a chocolate studded cookie as a special reward.
Her eyes were torn away from their sugar nirvana momentarily as she saw something flash by in the semi-mirrored reflection of the glass case, showing a hazy view of the street outside. She went back to looking before coming to realize just what she had seen.
It couldn't be! She rushed outside the door, setting off the shop bell as her mother payed for their food, not even noticing in her fumbling for the right card.
Dashing back out into the street, She whipped her head wildly, searching for the glimpse she'd seen in the dessert case.
There! Down towards Orange Blvd., a humongous tail disappeared around the corner of a brick apartment building. She booked after it, raincoat hood flying off from her head and flopping behind her dramatically. Through the adults and strollers and bikes she swerved, racing towards the intersection before skidding around the corner. Once again she saw the tail, this time disappearing into a wide and dark alleyway just up the street. It was HUGE!
Fear passed through her like a lightning bolt and a sweaty, clammy feeling broke out over her forehead; she skidded to a stop. If that was a sin, a real and true sin, and it was THAT big, should she really follow it? Urgency gripped her as she struggled with the choice. She knew the smart thing would be to head back to the bakery and forget it all. Her mother would have noticed her missing by now and she must be worried sick. Maybe she'd even get off scott free if she really apologized. But... She'd never seen anything like THIS before.
At her most truest heart, Tabitha was recklessly and thoroughly curious, so it had never been a real question of if she would go at all. She took off, slower now, towards the alley. The adults on the street seemed to have vanished, and the ones who remained hardly noticed her, leaving her virtually alone. Slowing to a quiet crawl as she reached the entrance, she crouched down and peeked just the tip of her head, just enough to see; around the corner.
It was there! And it was even bigger than she'd imagined. Like something that had come right out of the story books she devoured in bed, a gigantic, horrible dragon! It's scales glistened even in the low light, looking for everything like an swirling oil spill. It had great, big bat like wings tucked to its side and at the bottom of its powerful haunches; massive, gripping talons. It's top most was the most horrifying and magical part. A long, spiked neck rose to meet it's sleek, triangular head, topped with curved, spiraling horns and a huge mouth, no doubt filled with rows and rows of teeth.
Its eyes were... knowing.
Like the toad in the street, she couldn't help but feel that this creature was more than just sin. It was intelligent. It really saw.
It could barely fit width wise in the alley, despite the space between buildings being very gratuitous; and its horns reached halfway up the 5 story complex.
It was so large; in fact, that Tabitha couldn't see anything BUT the dragon. If this was a sin, (which she wasn't really that sure of at this point) shouldn't there be a human here as well? And what kind of horrible person could have a sin like this?
She glanced around, looking for a way to solve the mystery. Spotting another alleyway one house down back the way she came, she darted down it and came out onto the street on the other side, looking nervously at the opposite exit of the dragon bearing one. Once again crouching down, she headed to the entrance and, like before, peeked her head every so slowly around its corner. A nervous *Thrumming* whooshed in her ears and her stomach felt heavy and queasy.
Peeking open her eyes that she had clenched shut on instinct, she looked out into the alley. It was...
The business man? Yes, the same business man who had elbowed her on the street not 30 minutes ago!
He was taking a phone call in the privacy of the alley. The fear, slick in her stomach, began to dissipate.
She waited and waited, listening to snippets of the call, but nothing illuminated the reason for his horrible dragon. She sat crouched until her legs began to quake, until her fingers gripping the brick began to ache, until she grew bored and restless. It felt like an eternity in ten-year-old time. Eventually, the man slammed the "end call" button on his phone angrily and stormed back out into the street; not even noticing her slight form watching him.
The dragon, still every bit the horrifying creature she'd first seen, padded softly after him. It stopped briefly next to her and Tabitha's breath caught in her throat, time standing still. It's long neck craned around and those awful, knowing eyes stared deep into hers for what may have been a life time. Then, as suddenly as it stopped, its back legs screwed down and it launched into the air, taking off in flight after the oh-so-normal business man.
She shook away the deep unrest the dragon's stare had given her and watched it soar off. That must have been why she hadn't seen it the first time...
Still, she didn't understand. He was just a business man, after all. What evil could he possibly do? He looked like he ate poached eggs for breakfast (Ew!) and had a dog like the one she'd seen earlier named "pookie" or something silly like that.
"Tabitha!" Her mother's frantic cry shattered her concentration and she shot up like a rocket, looking behind her. Oh, her mother was mad. She was in for it now. A different, more familiar fear coursed through her, and it was almost welcome. Instantly shoving off the days events in the face of this new catastrophe in the way only a child can, she ran to her mother.
Maybe someday she'd understand. For now, home and warmth were waiting.
| |
[WP] You are able to see the sins of people. Small sins look like mice. Larger sins look closer to dogs. You are terrified when you encounter someone with a sin that looks like a dragon. | Never in my life had i seen such a monster. Its eyes bore right through my countenance and into my soul. Without even thinking, as if lured by the dragons devastating aura, I began approaching the table of men and women.
Normally the sin beast stays near one person specifically. It is easy to tell the commiter. But this dragon seemed to circle everyone at the table. It was as if they were all a part of something evil together. I had to know more. The worst part was, they were laughing and joking and overall seemed happy. It was as if they were proud of whatever they had done to create this beast...
With a lump in my throat I stopped my approach as I realized everyone at the table moved their gaze to me. "Hello, I don't mean to intrude, I just noticed all of the fun you were having and I was curious if you were all celebrating something?"
"Indeed we are!" Said the person at the head of the table. "We work at Bungie and the team you see before you is responsible for the launch of Destiny 2." | I have a certain fondness for cute animals. Things like rabbits and hamsters and sea otters or pandas. Mostly because I never see them. The only animals I see are filthy ones. Ones that come from sin.
Dirty mice, raccoons, opossums, dogs and more. They take the shape deemed accurate of the sin the holder has committed. And only I can see them.
I've seen them my entire life. Once, when I was three, I asked my mother why she had mice following her around everywhere. You see, I wasn't born with the manual guide built in my head. I had to learn for myself what these animals represented. And I figured it out eventually. On my fourth birthday, my mother lied about my father bringing home balloons. I saw large sewer rats appear and follow her. I learned to keep my mouth shut about my odd... ability. Especially because it was the only way out of the mental institute I was placed in.
This ability can certainly be a nuisance though. It's the worst in situations like these.
I was at a Rennisance festival with my girlfriend. She loved everything medieval. It was a famous festival in our city and quite large. I hated large gatherings. The largest gathering I had been to was high school prom. Let me just saw, a lot of young teenagers gained some new animals.
I couldn't be in large crowds because I couldn't tell if the dogs here were from sinning or because they're real and hungry. I can't tell if some of these animals are part of a costume or not. And eventually, when we gather together in a group, I can't hear anything due to the chattering mice and barking dogs.
But I promised my girlfriend. And I liked her. She didn't lie as much as other people and had a small amount of rats following her.
So we walked around until I saw one of the largest beasts I'd ever seen. A dragon.
I knew I was the only one who saw it because I was the only one looking at it. And I found the owner of that very large sin. He was working backstage, where the dragon was.
What did that man do to get a dragon. A massacre? a spree of rape? years of obtaining child pornography? All those in small forms gained dogs. The bigger the dog, the worst the crime.
I had to investigate. If this man had a sinning animal so large... he couldn't be trusted to continue walking the earth!
I left my girlfriend in the bathroom and made my way to the stage. I walked around until I found the opening where the man had been standing. As I entered backstage, I saw the man. Fear started to creep up behind me.
What was I thinking? This man is ruthless if he has a dragon!
"Excuse me, what are you doing back here?" He asked. His voice was deep which was to be expected. He probably killed a dozen people, he can't have a weak voice!
"I, uh, came to introduce myself..." I said lamely. I was frightened. I was backstage with a murderer. I didn't even tell my girlfriend where I had gone!
"What for?" He asked. I glanced at the dragon. I only reached his belly. I looked back at the man and... he was looking at the dragon as well. Impossible! I'm the only one who can see people's sins in the forms of animals! "You like her? Took a long time to make..."
The blood drained from my face.
"I can't wait to unveil her. The crowd is going to love it! You must be Patrick Kerry? The reporter from the news paper?"
What? Unveil her?
There was a mechanical whirl and when I looked at the dragon, it- she was looking at me. I stepped forward and reached out. I felt the solid metal sheets beneath my fingers.
"Uh, no, I-I think I'd better get going... someone's waiting for me..." I walked as fast as I could away from that man.
What a fool! Of course there isn't a sin as big as a dragon!
... | |
[WP] You are able to see the sins of people. Small sins look like mice. Larger sins look closer to dogs. You are terrified when you encounter someone with a sin that looks like a dragon. | For as long as I can remember I've always been able to see them. Ghostly animals following in the footsteps of people, every person I've ever seen has had them. From what I've gathered the larger and darker the apparitions, the worse the sins of the person they follow. I think the type of animals might give a hint to their nature as well. My little sister Alice, the purest most innocent soul I know has only a single snow white bird that perches on her shoulder. Once I even saw a convicted serial killer walking out of court on TV flanked by two dark grey, almost black mastiffs. That was the worst I've ever seen, most people just have a few rats and mice or maybe a cat or rabbit.
That was until one day. The day when everything changed for me and I didn't even know it. I was out running my usual errands. A light grey rabbit perched on the counter, inspecting my purchases as as the grocery store clerk printed my receipt.
"Sir do you have a membership with us? Members receive discounts on specific items and—"
I cut her off mid sentence "Thanks but I'm good." I flashed her a quick smile and grabbed my bags heading for the exit.
As I walked out I caught my reflection in the full sized mirror by the clothing section. Slim build, brown hair, and cold blue eyes. Face a neutral mask. Casual and subtle clothes, no bright colours. And no ghostly animals to be found. Same as always.
I sighed and continued on my way. It'd always bothered me. It was mystery enough that I could see the sins of others, but why was it that the only sins invisible to me where my own? Surely they must be there. I knew I was no angel, most definitely not a better person than my sister and even she had that single white bird fluttering about her always.
I was distracted on the drive home, thinking of all the animals I had seen that day and returning to the same question over and over. *Why can't I see my own?*
That's probably why I didn't see the truck coming. Later they told me it had run a red light, t-boning me in the middle of an intersection. But in the moment all I remember seeing was the blinding light of its headlights then the screech and crunch of metal and glass and then... nothing. Just blackness. A void.
*Except it wasn't nothing. The darkness moved. A single pale blue eye flicked opened and regarded me with cold intelligence. A shiver ran down my spine. I knew what I was seeing. It was...*
I woke in a cold sweat. I was in a hospital room. IV tubes connected to both arms and all I could feel was a sort of warm, pleasant numbness. A nurse noticed me blinking and hurried over. She began to explain where I was and what had happened. Apparently it had been a few days, I had been in critical condition but was recovering remarkably well. Practically miraculous was how she put it. I'd be free to go soon but would have to take it easy and come for regular checkups for a few weeks.
As she talked I stared at the single white rabbit sitting patiently behind her and tried to recall what I had seen. I knew it was important, if I could just remember. But it was gone. Lost to the ether of unconsciousness.
 
A few weeks had passed and I was pretty much good as new. My knee still gave me trouble sometimes but I was off the painkillers now and going about my daily life with little to no trouble.
I was sitting in a coffee shop, sipping an americano and thinking back to that day as had become my habit. I was still trying to recall something just out of reach, it niggled at my brain like one of the thousands of ghostly mice I saw everyday with an ethereal wedge of cheese.
Someone sat down at my table. I looked up, startled out of my musing.
"Hi you must be Charlie right?" a young woman, blonde hair and pretty smiled at me from across the table. Her grey eyes seemed to pierce right through me making me shift uncomfortably.
"Yeah, that's right. And you are...?"
"Emma. Sorry, should've introduced myself first I guess." she looked down with a nervous giggle "It's just... I've been looking for you for a while and it's exciting to finally meet you."
"Looking for me? Why?" I was taken aback, could she be with my insurance company? Some kind of film producer looking to make a documentary about my accident? I don't normally get approached out of the blue like this.
And then it clicked. There had been something off about her from the start but I had only just put it together. The animals. Or more specifically, the *lack* of animals. She had none. No cats, no dogs, no rabbits, not even a single mouse skittering around her black high heels.
*Just like me.*
"You noticed huh?"
"W-what?" I was taken aback for a second time in as many minutes. Normally I wouldn't let my expression reveal my scrutiny so obviously, I rearranged my face into a polite mask and cleared my throat. "Noticed what exactly?"
She leaned in closer and conspiratorial gleam in her eyes and a mischievous smirk on her lips. "No animals." she whispered
I almost spat up my coffee I was so shocked. Never in my life had I met another person with knowledge of my ability, let alone one with my particular lack of animals.
"Don't worry," she said still smirking "I can see them too. I noticed you in the hospital, I work there as a nurse. I've seen them all my life and then I saw you and I saw you were like me, no animals following you."
The floodgates had opened and I just sat back and took it in. She was clearly excited, her face animated as she told me her life story growing up seeing the sins of others and I could relate to many of her experiences. Then she mentioned something that really got my attention.
"But the thing is, when you first came in from your accident... There was something there."
"Something?" I was leaning in too now, fully engaged eyes locked on her face "What kind of something?"
"An animal. But..."
"But what?"
She took a deep breath. Her whole posture had changed and she seemed almost on edge. "It was a dragon. A massive black dragon with ice blue eyes. It followed you when they brought you in the stretcher. And it stayed by your side until the moment when you opened your eyes. Then it faded away like smoke. But it was definitely there."
A sudden jolt ran through my body as if I'd just been struck with lightning. I remembered. A great dragon, black as night with eyes as cold as ice. With eyes like mine. It had spoken to me in my hazy unconscious dreams. Whispered things to me, things about myself that had pierced me to my core. Things that I had tried to ignore, pretended not to notice my whole life.
I was different from other people. Would never, could never be the same as them. And not just because of my ability to see sin. It went deeper than that. To the very core of who I was.
I was the monster. I was the dragon. Others' sins were separate from them. They knew right from wrong, could *feel* it when they went astray. Their sins followed them like lost spirits, unwanted and rejected because they didn't want their sins to be a part of themselves. I was different. The sin was me and I was the sin, we were inseparable.
As I looked up into Emma's eyes I saw the dragon behind them as well, staring back at me with steely grey eyes, and I knew she could see the dragon in me. From somewhere in the depths of my soul I could hear it's deep rumbling chuckle and I couldn't help but smile too.
*About time you realized. Maybe now we can have some real fun.*
 
End
- - - -
*Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed or have any criticisms please feel free to comment, I'm considering opening a subreddit for my writing so be sure to let me know if you'd be interested in something like that as well :)* | I have a certain fondness for cute animals. Things like rabbits and hamsters and sea otters or pandas. Mostly because I never see them. The only animals I see are filthy ones. Ones that come from sin.
Dirty mice, raccoons, opossums, dogs and more. They take the shape deemed accurate of the sin the holder has committed. And only I can see them.
I've seen them my entire life. Once, when I was three, I asked my mother why she had mice following her around everywhere. You see, I wasn't born with the manual guide built in my head. I had to learn for myself what these animals represented. And I figured it out eventually. On my fourth birthday, my mother lied about my father bringing home balloons. I saw large sewer rats appear and follow her. I learned to keep my mouth shut about my odd... ability. Especially because it was the only way out of the mental institute I was placed in.
This ability can certainly be a nuisance though. It's the worst in situations like these.
I was at a Rennisance festival with my girlfriend. She loved everything medieval. It was a famous festival in our city and quite large. I hated large gatherings. The largest gathering I had been to was high school prom. Let me just saw, a lot of young teenagers gained some new animals.
I couldn't be in large crowds because I couldn't tell if the dogs here were from sinning or because they're real and hungry. I can't tell if some of these animals are part of a costume or not. And eventually, when we gather together in a group, I can't hear anything due to the chattering mice and barking dogs.
But I promised my girlfriend. And I liked her. She didn't lie as much as other people and had a small amount of rats following her.
So we walked around until I saw one of the largest beasts I'd ever seen. A dragon.
I knew I was the only one who saw it because I was the only one looking at it. And I found the owner of that very large sin. He was working backstage, where the dragon was.
What did that man do to get a dragon. A massacre? a spree of rape? years of obtaining child pornography? All those in small forms gained dogs. The bigger the dog, the worst the crime.
I had to investigate. If this man had a sinning animal so large... he couldn't be trusted to continue walking the earth!
I left my girlfriend in the bathroom and made my way to the stage. I walked around until I found the opening where the man had been standing. As I entered backstage, I saw the man. Fear started to creep up behind me.
What was I thinking? This man is ruthless if he has a dragon!
"Excuse me, what are you doing back here?" He asked. His voice was deep which was to be expected. He probably killed a dozen people, he can't have a weak voice!
"I, uh, came to introduce myself..." I said lamely. I was frightened. I was backstage with a murderer. I didn't even tell my girlfriend where I had gone!
"What for?" He asked. I glanced at the dragon. I only reached his belly. I looked back at the man and... he was looking at the dragon as well. Impossible! I'm the only one who can see people's sins in the forms of animals! "You like her? Took a long time to make..."
The blood drained from my face.
"I can't wait to unveil her. The crowd is going to love it! You must be Patrick Kerry? The reporter from the news paper?"
What? Unveil her?
There was a mechanical whirl and when I looked at the dragon, it- she was looking at me. I stepped forward and reached out. I felt the solid metal sheets beneath my fingers.
"Uh, no, I-I think I'd better get going... someone's waiting for me..." I walked as fast as I could away from that man.
What a fool! Of course there isn't a sin as big as a dragon!
... | |
[WP] You are able to see the sins of people. Small sins look like mice. Larger sins look closer to dogs. You are terrified when you encounter someone with a sin that looks like a dragon. | It was a standard Tuesday morning on the L-train. I had left home early to make it to the office to work on a case that had been bugging the hell out of me for months. No leads, no suspects, no motive. Just a bunch of bodies, some shady corporate transactions and a lot of accompanying financial crimes. All the leads dead-ended. Everything about this one evaporates into smoke by the time you finish pulling the threads apart. Whoever they are, the killer was getting rich on these murders. They were getting away with it.
Lost in thought, I hadn't really been paying attention to the sins of my fellow commuters. I have an ability, where I can see people's sins embodied in the form of a spirit-like animal. Most people have mice or cats with them. A few people have dogs or even the occasional bear. I put away a serial killer with a really fucked up MO once that had an Anaconda for his.
When we reached my stop, I stepped out on the platform and saw something I had never seen before. Stretched out, black wings clipping the ceiling of the subway platform, was an obsidian dragon. Its eyes gleamed ruby-red with a hatred that looked as if nothing could extinguish it.
Its patron was a man in his 30's, with sleek brown hair and a nice suit and a smile you could have bought out of a dental ad. He had his headphones in. I caught a bit of it when he pulled out his earbuds. Huey Lewis and the News.
"Excuse me sir, do you have the time?"
"The time for what? I have a train to catch in a few minutes."
"No, no, I mean the time. I left my phone at home this morning and I have a meeting to make by 9am."
"Well, where are you headed?"
"FBI regional office. They brought me in to help with a cold case."
The dragon shifted, snorted, and moved in a way suggesting discomfort. The red in its eyes blazed brighter.
"Not that quadruple homicide with the offshore bank accounts, was it? I don't think you'll catch that guy. No offense. If I were him I would be long gone. You don't kill four people and steal a bunch of money to stick around at your day job."
"I'm obviously not at liberty to talk about what I'm working on. Ongoing investigation and all."
"Right, right. Well, if I had to guess I would bet one of their kids did it. You know, nepotistic little upstarts trying to cash in on Dad's success to start at the top. There's your motive right there. Greed. All these kids want is to hoard wealth and keep it from the people that really work for it."
The dragon beamed. Its eyes flared. I hadn't tackled a sin this big. Avarice doesn't usually give you anything bigger than an iguana. This guy must have had dreams of being Scarface and Elon Musk all at once down the line. It knew I was watching. He knew I was watching.
A smile crept across his face. "Yes, well, must be going. My train is here. Take my advice. I think you'll find my gut is right on this one."
I reached into my pocket. I shouldn't use it, but this guy was likely going to be more than I can tackle, even if I can get him in front of a jury willing to convict on what I can find. It was a small blade, but it would do the job if I angled it right.
I jammed the blade into the plates between the dragon's lower scales. It roared, spewing sickly black ooze onto the ceiling. The rest of the commuters went about their morning rush.
"You've got quite a few sins to answer for, son. Maybe now the weight of them will really hit you."
As the dragon roared, convulsed and ultimately slumped to the platform, the man dropped to his knees and began sobbing uncontrollably. The weight of his sins had crashed down upon him.
After I came back in from lunch, a report came across my desk. The killer had confessed and turned himself in. The guilt, he said, had become too much to bear and it all crashed down on him. His hatred for his bosses and their entitled, bratty heirs became too much for him after years of letting it fester. He killed them and took their money using his access to the network and a series of sales through cut-outs and shell companies.
I finished reading the report and went back to my sandwich. The badger that follows me around curled up on my lap and nipped at the crumbs on the desk. | I have a certain fondness for cute animals. Things like rabbits and hamsters and sea otters or pandas. Mostly because I never see them. The only animals I see are filthy ones. Ones that come from sin.
Dirty mice, raccoons, opossums, dogs and more. They take the shape deemed accurate of the sin the holder has committed. And only I can see them.
I've seen them my entire life. Once, when I was three, I asked my mother why she had mice following her around everywhere. You see, I wasn't born with the manual guide built in my head. I had to learn for myself what these animals represented. And I figured it out eventually. On my fourth birthday, my mother lied about my father bringing home balloons. I saw large sewer rats appear and follow her. I learned to keep my mouth shut about my odd... ability. Especially because it was the only way out of the mental institute I was placed in.
This ability can certainly be a nuisance though. It's the worst in situations like these.
I was at a Rennisance festival with my girlfriend. She loved everything medieval. It was a famous festival in our city and quite large. I hated large gatherings. The largest gathering I had been to was high school prom. Let me just saw, a lot of young teenagers gained some new animals.
I couldn't be in large crowds because I couldn't tell if the dogs here were from sinning or because they're real and hungry. I can't tell if some of these animals are part of a costume or not. And eventually, when we gather together in a group, I can't hear anything due to the chattering mice and barking dogs.
But I promised my girlfriend. And I liked her. She didn't lie as much as other people and had a small amount of rats following her.
So we walked around until I saw one of the largest beasts I'd ever seen. A dragon.
I knew I was the only one who saw it because I was the only one looking at it. And I found the owner of that very large sin. He was working backstage, where the dragon was.
What did that man do to get a dragon. A massacre? a spree of rape? years of obtaining child pornography? All those in small forms gained dogs. The bigger the dog, the worst the crime.
I had to investigate. If this man had a sinning animal so large... he couldn't be trusted to continue walking the earth!
I left my girlfriend in the bathroom and made my way to the stage. I walked around until I found the opening where the man had been standing. As I entered backstage, I saw the man. Fear started to creep up behind me.
What was I thinking? This man is ruthless if he has a dragon!
"Excuse me, what are you doing back here?" He asked. His voice was deep which was to be expected. He probably killed a dozen people, he can't have a weak voice!
"I, uh, came to introduce myself..." I said lamely. I was frightened. I was backstage with a murderer. I didn't even tell my girlfriend where I had gone!
"What for?" He asked. I glanced at the dragon. I only reached his belly. I looked back at the man and... he was looking at the dragon as well. Impossible! I'm the only one who can see people's sins in the forms of animals! "You like her? Took a long time to make..."
The blood drained from my face.
"I can't wait to unveil her. The crowd is going to love it! You must be Patrick Kerry? The reporter from the news paper?"
What? Unveil her?
There was a mechanical whirl and when I looked at the dragon, it- she was looking at me. I stepped forward and reached out. I felt the solid metal sheets beneath my fingers.
"Uh, no, I-I think I'd better get going... someone's waiting for me..." I walked as fast as I could away from that man.
What a fool! Of course there isn't a sin as big as a dragon!
... | |
[WP] You are able to see the sins of people. Small sins look like mice. Larger sins look closer to dogs. You are terrified when you encounter someone with a sin that looks like a dragon. | For as long as I can remember I've always been able to see them. Ghostly animals following in the footsteps of people, every person I've ever seen has had them. From what I've gathered the larger and darker the apparitions, the worse the sins of the person they follow. I think the type of animals might give a hint to their nature as well. My little sister Alice, the purest most innocent soul I know has only a single snow white bird that perches on her shoulder. Once I even saw a convicted serial killer walking out of court on TV flanked by two dark grey, almost black mastiffs. That was the worst I've ever seen, most people just have a few rats and mice or maybe a cat or rabbit.
That was until one day. The day when everything changed for me and I didn't even know it. I was out running my usual errands. A light grey rabbit perched on the counter, inspecting my purchases as as the grocery store clerk printed my receipt.
"Sir do you have a membership with us? Members receive discounts on specific items and—"
I cut her off mid sentence "Thanks but I'm good." I flashed her a quick smile and grabbed my bags heading for the exit.
As I walked out I caught my reflection in the full sized mirror by the clothing section. Slim build, brown hair, and cold blue eyes. Face a neutral mask. Casual and subtle clothes, no bright colours. And no ghostly animals to be found. Same as always.
I sighed and continued on my way. It'd always bothered me. It was mystery enough that I could see the sins of others, but why was it that the only sins invisible to me where my own? Surely they must be there. I knew I was no angel, most definitely not a better person than my sister and even she had that single white bird fluttering about her always.
I was distracted on the drive home, thinking of all the animals I had seen that day and returning to the same question over and over. *Why can't I see my own?*
That's probably why I didn't see the truck coming. Later they told me it had run a red light, t-boning me in the middle of an intersection. But in the moment all I remember seeing was the blinding light of its headlights then the screech and crunch of metal and glass and then... nothing. Just blackness. A void.
*Except it wasn't nothing. The darkness moved. A single pale blue eye flicked opened and regarded me with cold intelligence. A shiver ran down my spine. I knew what I was seeing. It was...*
I woke in a cold sweat. I was in a hospital room. IV tubes connected to both arms and all I could feel was a sort of warm, pleasant numbness. A nurse noticed me blinking and hurried over. She began to explain where I was and what had happened. Apparently it had been a few days, I had been in critical condition but was recovering remarkably well. Practically miraculous was how she put it. I'd be free to go soon but would have to take it easy and come for regular checkups for a few weeks.
As she talked I stared at the single white rabbit sitting patiently behind her and tried to recall what I had seen. I knew it was important, if I could just remember. But it was gone. Lost to the ether of unconsciousness.
 
A few weeks had passed and I was pretty much good as new. My knee still gave me trouble sometimes but I was off the painkillers now and going about my daily life with little to no trouble.
I was sitting in a coffee shop, sipping an americano and thinking back to that day as had become my habit. I was still trying to recall something just out of reach, it niggled at my brain like one of the thousands of ghostly mice I saw everyday with an ethereal wedge of cheese.
Someone sat down at my table. I looked up, startled out of my musing.
"Hi you must be Charlie right?" a young woman, blonde hair and pretty smiled at me from across the table. Her grey eyes seemed to pierce right through me making me shift uncomfortably.
"Yeah, that's right. And you are...?"
"Emma. Sorry, should've introduced myself first I guess." she looked down with a nervous giggle "It's just... I've been looking for you for a while and it's exciting to finally meet you."
"Looking for me? Why?" I was taken aback, could she be with my insurance company? Some kind of film producer looking to make a documentary about my accident? I don't normally get approached out of the blue like this.
And then it clicked. There had been something off about her from the start but I had only just put it together. The animals. Or more specifically, the *lack* of animals. She had none. No cats, no dogs, no rabbits, not even a single mouse skittering around her black high heels.
*Just like me.*
"You noticed huh?"
"W-what?" I was taken aback for a second time in as many minutes. Normally I wouldn't let my expression reveal my scrutiny so obviously, I rearranged my face into a polite mask and cleared my throat. "Noticed what exactly?"
She leaned in closer and conspiratorial gleam in her eyes and a mischievous smirk on her lips. "No animals." she whispered
I almost spat up my coffee I was so shocked. Never in my life had I met another person with knowledge of my ability, let alone one with my particular lack of animals.
"Don't worry," she said still smirking "I can see them too. I noticed you in the hospital, I work there as a nurse. I've seen them all my life and then I saw you and I saw you were like me, no animals following you."
The floodgates had opened and I just sat back and took it in. She was clearly excited, her face animated as she told me her life story growing up seeing the sins of others and I could relate to many of her experiences. Then she mentioned something that really got my attention.
"But the thing is, when you first came in from your accident... There was something there."
"Something?" I was leaning in too now, fully engaged eyes locked on her face "What kind of something?"
"An animal. But..."
"But what?"
She took a deep breath. Her whole posture had changed and she seemed almost on edge. "It was a dragon. A massive black dragon with ice blue eyes. It followed you when they brought you in the stretcher. And it stayed by your side until the moment when you opened your eyes. Then it faded away like smoke. But it was definitely there."
A sudden jolt ran through my body as if I'd just been struck with lightning. I remembered. A great dragon, black as night with eyes as cold as ice. With eyes like mine. It had spoken to me in my hazy unconscious dreams. Whispered things to me, things about myself that had pierced me to my core. Things that I had tried to ignore, pretended not to notice my whole life.
I was different from other people. Would never, could never be the same as them. And not just because of my ability to see sin. It went deeper than that. To the very core of who I was.
I was the monster. I was the dragon. Others' sins were separate from them. They knew right from wrong, could *feel* it when they went astray. Their sins followed them like lost spirits, unwanted and rejected because they didn't want their sins to be a part of themselves. I was different. The sin was me and I was the sin, we were inseparable.
As I looked up into Emma's eyes I saw the dragon behind them as well, staring back at me with steely grey eyes, and I knew she could see the dragon in me. From somewhere in the depths of my soul I could hear it's deep rumbling chuckle and I couldn't help but smile too.
*About time you realized. Maybe now we can have some real fun.*
 
End
- - - -
*Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed or have any criticisms please feel free to comment, I'm considering opening a subreddit for my writing so be sure to let me know if you'd be interested in something like that as well :)* | Never in my life had i seen such a monster. Its eyes bore right through my countenance and into my soul. Without even thinking, as if lured by the dragons devastating aura, I began approaching the table of men and women.
Normally the sin beast stays near one person specifically. It is easy to tell the commiter. But this dragon seemed to circle everyone at the table. It was as if they were all a part of something evil together. I had to know more. The worst part was, they were laughing and joking and overall seemed happy. It was as if they were proud of whatever they had done to create this beast...
With a lump in my throat I stopped my approach as I realized everyone at the table moved their gaze to me. "Hello, I don't mean to intrude, I just noticed all of the fun you were having and I was curious if you were all celebrating something?"
"Indeed we are!" Said the person at the head of the table. "We work at Bungie and the team you see before you is responsible for the launch of Destiny 2." | |
[WP] A warning alarm goes off for the first time in your lifetime, but you know what it means. The inhabitants of Earth have cracked faster than light travel. You can't let them break quarantine. Not again. Not on your watch. | "Sir."
The control room was a clarion of activity, shouting, panicked instruction. Acheron was bathed in red light rhythmically. On. Off. On... Off. He remained silent, hands resting in tight fists behind the small of his back.
He was unnaturally tall, well over fourteen feet, and his elongated face was devoid of features that would have made him recognizable by the vermin he made it his life's work to contain. No mouth, no nose... just hellish eyes.
Hellish eyes that remembered.
Hundreds upon thousands of years, ever watching. Those large reptilian eyes narrowed, the long tendrils that reached down his back reverberated with a glorious display of light. To his captives, it would have been awe-inspiring. To his compatriots- it signified his unbridled rage. A taloned finger tapped the floating hologram of the planet, turning it lightly as he focused upon the small string of islands on the coast of what humanity had called "Asia."
"Which of the colonies had developed it?" Acheron rumbled, the fluid sacks set deep in his throat expanding to form each word. His voice was low, baritone. Unearthly and terrifying in its own right. The Ensign dipped his head, cocking it with the sound of swaying leathery tendrils and the grind of chitin.
"A colony by the name of Japan, Fleet Commander, they made the announcement on their international news relay an hour ago."
"Then why is the alarm just sounding *now?*"
Acheron's irritation was palpable, and he turned his head to gaze at the officer. The ensign flinched- and rightfully so. One of those long talons rested between his eyes, and the death rattle that sounded from those wavering throat sacks chilled his blood.
"Fleet Commander, sir, we needed to make absolutely certain that it was not just a political ploy, their people play them often upon each other..."
"Do you think that I am ignorant to that?!" His voice roared, vibrating from the sloping walls, enough so to falter the frantic movements around him for a mere moment, before it became a hive of activity once more. The Ensign balked, shrinking back.
"Of course not, sir, I wouldn't dare insinuate-"
Acheron sneered, turning his gaze back to the hologram once more. Confirmed stories and communications began to ping, steadily pulsing as the news spread, and the colonies' governments began to spring into action. "We've no time."
"Sir."
"The last time they developed such a technology was when we were foolish enough to offer our aid. We had to drown half of their world to remove the evidence, and watch them scramble to explain the devastation as a biblical decision from their god." He chuffed- a snort expanding those sacks, as the bio-luminescent cacophony continued its pulsating display along those long tendrils. Running a hand over his head and taking up one of the pulsing appendages, he rubbed it with his thumb, watching the tip's colors fray and change, akin to an octopus' camouflage.
"Are you thinking another biblical disaster?" The Ensign trilled, tilting his head lightly.
"No." Acheron's voice was finite, before he looked over to the man. "Ready our sleeper agents, and give them the order. We will have them destroy themselves, they still have nuclear weapons yes?" The Ensign swallowed, nodding lightly. "Good. Execute Operation WW-III." | Slegznar Volput, Senior Oobstetrix Engineer, and notorious ex-convict, tipped back in his cheap roller chair, kicked off his boots, and crossed his legs up on the console, momentarily puzzled by a sudden satisfaction he felt for the revolting foot odor a long day's de-weeding the hydroponics bay would do. He reached for the cold aluminum can atop a portable Shloobulator console (despite all rational safety regulations, as per his style), while his six toes happily stretched and breathed in the recycled nitrogen. Sleg flips the tab on the can, the rich scent of Arcturan MegaHops fizzing into his orifices and assaulting his senses.
He sighs, and unfurls his proboscis, mandibles salivating sadly. Sleg thinks about his life, how long he has been here, before uttering a questioning chittering to his overly cheerful ai assistant.
"Well, hey hi ho there, boss," the VI chittered back, its synthesized voice oozing with obnoxious idealism, "what can I doodle-oodley do for ya?"
A colorful animated avatar appeared on the console, its stylized face resembling what could be considered a "cute" member of Slegznar's arthropodic-reptiloid species, to the appropriate observer, its infantile mandibles salivating adorably beneath its enormous orange eyeballs.
"Splexa, read me today's task inbox, and put on some sad music, doll."
"Right-a-rooney, Sleg! Now playing Sad Music Makes No Creds by Lil' Qwoppa."
A low electronic beat fills the command module, overlayed by a rhythmic rapping (which, to a human, would be remarkably similar to whatever the mating call of a frog-cicada hybrid would sound like) easing Slegznar's sudden distaste for his only companion. Not what he meant, but it had a suitable vibe to it.
Sleg took a long swig of his MegaBeer, and listened to the chirping of his VI, as his liver fell into a panic at the thought of what was about to come. He tried not to fall asleep, as he listened.
"Then, at GST 55274, a battery warning was investigated by Probe 5-sklee; the warning proved: false. Then, at GST 55281, the septic tanks were flushed. Damage to Solar Array 34-yoob sustained; structural integrity at 99.993 per cent. Immediate cleaning recommended. Then, at GST...."
It droned on like this for a few more minutes. Slegznar zoned out, enjoying the oddly nostalgic music.
"Then, at GST 55707, an unlicensed FTL-signature was detected near probe: 44-nub. Then, at GST 55708, Golubor radiation levels detected, at probe: 44-nub. Signal lost. Then, at GST 55963, message received: your checking account is overdrawn-"
Slegznar snapped back into consciousness.
"Wait, Splexa, wait! What did you just say?" Slegznar asked, after letting out an extended burp of surprise, again beating his senses senseless with the scent of his cold one.
"At GST 55963, you got a message from collections@united-"
"No! Not that! What was that about an FTL signature? We're in a quarantine zone!"
"Rightey-tightey-o, bubba! No intergalactic trade alliance signals detected, either!"
"Splexa, just designate the damn probe location."
"Probe: 44-nub, Quarantine Sector Shog-Nerub. Terrestrial planet. Primitive mammal species. Local name: 'Dirt.'"
At the word "dirt," Sleg sprayed MegaBeer from his proboscis onto his black coveralls.
"Splexa," Sleg pleaded, worried, "confirm containment protocol, please!"
"Prime Containment Protocol: Under no circumstance will Oobstetrix Engineers and subordinate personnel allow quarantine breach of the nature preserve in Sector Shog-Nerub. Penalty for failure is: CLASSIFIED, buddy! You should probably-oughta-be investigating boss! Last we checked, the indigenous ape people had only just discovered Bluetooth technology - that's not too far off from Warp Modulators!"
Slegznar took a moment of silence to set down his can and process this information. Then, after several seconds of pushing nitrogen through his tired tenta-strils, he let out a deep breath, his tendrils quivering with dismay. "Well... *Shlipt!* We've got to do something!"
[I'm gonna add more later if ya'll like it. No editing performed yet, thumbs tired.] | |
[WP] A warning alarm goes off for the first time in your lifetime, but you know what it means. The inhabitants of Earth have cracked faster than light travel. You can't let them break quarantine. Not again. Not on your watch. | "Sir."
The control room was a clarion of activity, shouting, panicked instruction. Acheron was bathed in red light rhythmically. On. Off. On... Off. He remained silent, hands resting in tight fists behind the small of his back.
He was unnaturally tall, well over fourteen feet, and his elongated face was devoid of features that would have made him recognizable by the vermin he made it his life's work to contain. No mouth, no nose... just hellish eyes.
Hellish eyes that remembered.
Hundreds upon thousands of years, ever watching. Those large reptilian eyes narrowed, the long tendrils that reached down his back reverberated with a glorious display of light. To his captives, it would have been awe-inspiring. To his compatriots- it signified his unbridled rage. A taloned finger tapped the floating hologram of the planet, turning it lightly as he focused upon the small string of islands on the coast of what humanity had called "Asia."
"Which of the colonies had developed it?" Acheron rumbled, the fluid sacks set deep in his throat expanding to form each word. His voice was low, baritone. Unearthly and terrifying in its own right. The Ensign dipped his head, cocking it with the sound of swaying leathery tendrils and the grind of chitin.
"A colony by the name of Japan, Fleet Commander, they made the announcement on their international news relay an hour ago."
"Then why is the alarm just sounding *now?*"
Acheron's irritation was palpable, and he turned his head to gaze at the officer. The ensign flinched- and rightfully so. One of those long talons rested between his eyes, and the death rattle that sounded from those wavering throat sacks chilled his blood.
"Fleet Commander, sir, we needed to make absolutely certain that it was not just a political ploy, their people play them often upon each other..."
"Do you think that I am ignorant to that?!" His voice roared, vibrating from the sloping walls, enough so to falter the frantic movements around him for a mere moment, before it became a hive of activity once more. The Ensign balked, shrinking back.
"Of course not, sir, I wouldn't dare insinuate-"
Acheron sneered, turning his gaze back to the hologram once more. Confirmed stories and communications began to ping, steadily pulsing as the news spread, and the colonies' governments began to spring into action. "We've no time."
"Sir."
"The last time they developed such a technology was when we were foolish enough to offer our aid. We had to drown half of their world to remove the evidence, and watch them scramble to explain the devastation as a biblical decision from their god." He chuffed- a snort expanding those sacks, as the bio-luminescent cacophony continued its pulsating display along those long tendrils. Running a hand over his head and taking up one of the pulsing appendages, he rubbed it with his thumb, watching the tip's colors fray and change, akin to an octopus' camouflage.
"Are you thinking another biblical disaster?" The Ensign trilled, tilting his head lightly.
"No." Acheron's voice was finite, before he looked over to the man. "Ready our sleeper agents, and give them the order. We will have them destroy themselves, they still have nuclear weapons yes?" The Ensign swallowed, nodding lightly. "Good. Execute Operation WW-III." | Shit- that’s the alarm-that’s-never-supposed-to-ring; Alpha One is going to have my head… if any of us survive this that is.
I run over to the Universal Oracle Board and read on its display what I already know to be true: The humans have achieved faster-than-light travel. This is the second time that the damned humans have done this, the first time they managed to kill all the dinosaurs- not just on their earth but the dinosaurs on every single planet in every single galaxy in. The. Universe.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh deeply but only for a moment because I know what I have to do. The color of the alarm is red: that just means that faster-than-light travel has just been discovered- I still have time before the alarm turns purple, which would mean that they are attempting to use it.
I put on my intergalactic suit that turns my body into the same energy as a black-hole, allowing me to rip open the fabric of space and travel through it as if it were a doorway to anywhere I wished to go. I look at my weapons rack and ponder what I should bring to stop this from rolling faster and faster out of hand. I grab one of everything, better to be safe than sorry: A phase rifle, perfect for shooting through targets… and more targets, a nuclean anti-gravity grenades, a dwarf-star cannon, a nebula blade and an asteroid net.
I activate my suit’s galaxy-gate ability and just before I step through, I remember to grab the memory manipulator with a new and improved genetic manipulation enhancement; this time I’m going to remove not just the memory of having created faster-than-light travel but I’m going to erase the possibility of them even being able to come up with the notion from their very DNA. It may sound unfathomably cruel to render an entire race of people unable to achieve their potential but when their potential is to destroy every single living thing in the entire universe… it must be done.
I step through the localized space-gate that I have opened and in an instant my mind is washed by untold amounts of energy and feelings that can only be described as indescribable. I focus my mind as only us Alpha-beings can do and choose the spot that I want to travel to. As the image of the location becomes clearer and clearer in my head, the energy begins to fade and the silhouette of a doorway forms in front of me. In the next moment, I’m through the doorway and fall to the ground below me.
I land on one knee and I see dirt all around me. Damn it- I missed my actual target. It has been too long since I have had cause to use the suit; my ability to interact with it has diminished in all this time. It does not matter. I can see that I am right outside of the facility of the humans who have discovered faster-than-light travel. I check my wrist’s gauntlet to make sure that the alarm is still red and that I’m not too late… it is and I still have time but for how long, I do not know.
I would use the suit again to enter into the facility without having to deal with all those obstacles and barriers but the suit needs time to recharge, I have travelled further with it on this day than I have done in a millennia.
I take out my phase rifle and shoot through the primitive electronic-locks that hold the gates closed. They trust so much in their technology that they do not even bother to place guards outside of their facility, foolish.
I enter through the gate and into the facility with relative ease; no one is there to stop me, not even an automated defense system. They are making this almost too easy. I activate the tracking on my gauntlet to isolate the energy signatures that are a result of faster-than-light travel and am able to pin-point it to the center of the facility.
The facility is like a maze, walls jutting from every which way and corridors extending to and fro, like an impossible series of web. Time is of the essence. I unhook a Nuclean anti-gravity grenade from my belt and thinking better, I unhook another one. I hit the switch on both of them and toss them forward down into a corridor in the direction of the faster-than-light energy signature. They clink on the ground once, twice and on the third they release; the walls, ground and ceiling fly towards the grenades, hugging them like padding on a ball and in the next moment, the bomb explodes and anti-gravity waves ripple throughout the entire facility, taking down walls and structures, eliminating all light from the facility. The entire path to the energy signature is now clear.
I make my way quickly through the rubble and towards the energy-signature when something feels off. I do not get more than a fleeting moment to consider why I feel this way before a blast of energy hits me in my shoulder. It burns. It… broke through my suit. The humans are not supposed to have this kind of capability. Another energy shot flies towards me but this time it barely grazes the air around my head. I take cover behind some rubble and will my suit to heal itself but it is difficult considering how distracted and confused I am at the situation.
As I try to focus, a voice breaks out from the dark. “We knew you would come.”
| |
[WP] A warning alarm goes off for the first time in your lifetime, but you know what it means. The inhabitants of Earth have cracked faster than light travel. You can't let them break quarantine. Not again. Not on your watch. | The siren continued blaring. We knew it would happen eventually. Try as you might, even the most prepared person is never really ready for disaster when it strikes.
"Nancy, get me Uri, Gabe, and Josh, please." I tried not to sigh in exasperation. "And turn the damn alarm off, I think we've all gotten the point. Please."
Inspite of myself, I exhaled heavily, and massaged the bridge of my nose, trying not to mumble obscenities. I'm a Captain, not a raving lunatic. Although, the two aren't always mutually exclusive.
"Sir," someone rapped lightly on the door.
"Come in, Uri," I gestured towards the far side of the room. The giant, dark skinned man jerked a solemn nod, and marched over to the huge wall sized window. I have no idea why the kid is so stiff, but he's been like that since he was a baby. The alarm finally stopped. I felt myself relax. Uri didn't even seem to notice.
The sound of laughter flowed in through the door, preceeding Josh and Gabriel by a few seconds. Flushed, and smiling, both men immediately put on business faces when they crossed the threshold and snapped quick salutes.
"Sir."
"Sir," Josh glanced at Uriel, who was staring back at him, completely deadpan.
"Don't even think-" Uri began, as Josh burst into raucous laughter, and Gabe surreptitiously covered his mouth with his hand. It didn't completely cover the wide smirk on his face, but at least the boy made an effort. Unlike my son, who had walked up to pat Uri good naturedly on the shoulder, still chuckling. I don't know why they always messed with him, or why he let them- he could probably take them both at once in a scuff. I'd tried to explain that to him once when they were kids, and he just didn't really care. Uriel's a good egg. He was grinning now- at least they're always somewhat goodnatured.
"What's up, Dad?" Josh came over and gave me a quick, gruff hug. Good kid. A lot like his mother.
"You heard the alarm," I said, pouring three glasses of whiskey sent up from Earth a few decades ago. "You know what it means."
The three glanced at each other uneasily, mirth fading from the room as quickly as it had entered. Ah, yes, they knew what it meant.
"Da- Sir, I really don't-" Josh began, but I cut him off, as I handed out the drinks.
"Earth Team 37 has notified me that a team of colonists has discovered faster than light travel. Obviously, we can't allow them to utilize this knowledge." I did my best to appear stern and contemplative, looking at them each in turn. Gabe was staring at his drink, with a sickly expression on his face. Uri had finished his drink, and was staring at something over my head, I swear I'd like to know what goes on in that kid's head sometimes. Joshua looked whiter than a bedsheet.
"But-" he began.
"No 'buts,' Son," I tried to sound comforting, though I've been told my bedside manner is lacking. "We knew this day would come, and we know what has to be done. We've done it before with the flood, that huge tower, destroying those two cities, etcetera. They worship us. You have to go back. They're expecting you to come back."
Josh tilted his head back and let out an enormous sigh. I had to stifle a chuckle, because if that wasn't just like Martha, I don't know what was.
"We have to keep them at war, Guys." Uri was staring at me, or rather through me. Hell, he may have even been asleep with his eyes open- huh. I wonder if that's his thing. Sleeping with his eyes open. Gabe shifted nervously and glanced at Josh, who had just thrown his whole drink back.
"What do you want us to do, Sir?" I nodded. Good man.
"Just go back, and be yourself. Do some magic tricks here and there, but make sure it's with tech they won't be aware of. Luci will probably finally show herself, and I wouldn't be surprised if that asshole Meg's with her. That's why I'm sending Uri and Gabe with you."
Uriel snapped back to reality. As reserved as he was, he loved a good high intensity situation. Gabe instinctively stretched his neck. They were goofy, but I trusted them with Josh's life. My life, even, several times.
"Just go down for a few of their years. Get them pissed at each other, and finger pointing, maybe start a few wars. Kill the scientists who figured out FTL, and anyone close to them who could know anything about it- the team on the ground will help you with that. And be careful. Now, go see Rafe, and get some armor and tools."
The three men nodded, and began to file out.
"Sir."
"Sir."
"Sir."
Uri's massive shoulders had just disappeared around the corner, when I thought of one last thing.
"Oh, and boys," I called after them. Gabe's head popped back into view. "Bring some good whiskey back with you. See you soon."
Edit: a word | *Breach in sector 3-SFTS. Emergency Protocol necessary*
"Not again..." I sighed.
it's the third time this week. I don't know what is happening, but many systems have learned how to travel faster than light recently.
"Which one is it this time?" I said, even if no one else is here to hear me. Life on the station can be pretty boring when you're all alone.
Something was off. This time, it came from an isolated system on the edge of a galaxy far away.
"3-SFTS? Weird... they were pretty primitive last time I checked..." Ok. The last time I checked was 200 years ago. But they couldn't possibly discover that by themselves!
I have to check the Archives.
"Let's see... ah! 3-SFTS. Oh! the Dinosaurs debacle." I call them dinosaurs now since the inhabitants of 3-SFTS call them like this. Pretty funny when you know how they really look like and what they were up to. They were far too dangerous for other planetary systems though, experimenting crazy theories and violating too many physics law. It took some Meteors and climate change to get rid of them. People at the time were saying that making a whole species extinct was unacceptable, but the risk was too high.
I went back to the main monitor. I see them. it's a small ship, with almost no shield, no weapons. Easy to destroy.
"3...2...1... Ignition!" I like to mock the people I kill, it makes the job easier. As they say, the law is the law. Not knowing it is not an excuse.
There. The small black hole I created swallowed them. No waste lost in space.
If they see that the people they sent are dead, they may stop trying. Some species are still trying though. I wonder if those "humans" are the kind of people to be stubborn enough to keep trying. Anyway, time to go back watching my favorite show.
***
*1 week later*
*Breach in sector 3-SFTS. Emergency Protocol necessary*
"Ok. Now it gets annoying..."
***
*more stories on /r/cynferdd* | |
[WP] British time travellers go back in time to stop 9/11 but end up there on the 9th November not 11th September. | After being held up in airport security for most of his life time the young British inventor had heard of a golden era of air travel. A time when you could arrive a mere 30 minutes before a flight was meant to depart and where parents could accompany their children to their gates. A time where he didn't have to get scanned 4 times, remove all metal objects and almost get undressed every time he decided he wanted to fly somewhere.
In his spare time he dedicated his focus on building a time machine, but he could not undertake this huge task on his own. He reached out to work with other passionate inventors. Ones with personal stakes in avoiding the incident that to him caused a mere inconvenience; to them forever changed their lives into ones filled with grief and sorrow.
This is how he and several other American and British inventors ended up working on this project for the better part of 30 years, advances were made and setbacks overcome. The technology so dangerous that governments had to be kept in the dark, The method and machinery so fragile that only one attempt could be made, the raw materials so rare that there was only the possibility of one trip back.
The Brits produced the mechanical part of the machine, the Americans produced the programming and wiring aspects, With such a small team working in both "English" and SI units it was astounding when the machine was completed there was not one piece out of place.
It was decided early on that the young British inventor would be the one to travel back. He would be more impartial on the mission and when in America his accent would allow him to get away with anything short of murder.
The American programmers had agreed to these terms at the beginning of the project and had taken into account the British format of dates and times. When preparing for his final departure the British inventor keyed in that fateful day which shook the world waved good bye to the life he knew and activated the machine.
His vision flashed a bright white light and there was an all encompassing white noise sound as he was flung backwards through time, emerging in the area of upstate New York the best place to stop the attackers. He rushed to the nearest payphone to call in the threat.
As he described the attackers and the plots to the emergency operator he could hear sirens in the background. He heard that the caller asking for more and more details he could hear the tone of her voice becoming more and more incredulous and he had to raise his voice louder and louder to be heard over the passing sirens and a voice on a loud speaker.
He was still ranting on the phone when the first shot rang out.
"This is the police! Come out of the Phone Booth with both your hands up!"
Alvin had been surrounded by the NYPD. He emerged from the phone booth slowly, he was confused as he had only been on the phone a few minutes. Police response times before 9/11 had been much slower. As he emerged from the phone booth he was tackled by an officer and quickly arrested.
In the back of the unmarked van that the officers hurled him into he could overhear the muffled conversation that the officers were having.
"He had details of the attackers not yet released to the public."
"Well he sounded like a crazy homeless bum, apart from that stupid accent."
"Where is he gonna end up? in Guantanimo?"
"Nah... if he has more information I'm sure the Bush administration'll will bury him, it'll be like he was never here at all"
"More information? Man I wish he had come forward 2 months ago, he would have been a hero."
Dazed and confused he thought to himself
"2 months ago??? I'm sure I keyed in the date correctly, 9/11/2018!" | This was it. They’d identified it after years of careful research as the keystone. One simple tip given to the right people, and the ripple effects would put humanity back on course to avoid the worse of the effects of irreversible global warming(oh sorry, anthropogenic climate change). It was quite simple really, without the silly Americans rallying around their buffoon of a president, the far more sensible policies would be enacted at the right time, and voila, the earth would be saved.
Sir Jonas Chatterson had been chosen specially for this mission. The upper brass all agreed he had the right stuff: nerves of steel in danger, stiff upper lip and just the right amount of sense of propriety for the right things. Over-qualified really, if one thought about it, for dropping an anonymous tip to check a certain cave in Afghanistan.
Even so, it was untested territory, messing with the timeline this much, and any man sent back would have the judgement to do the right thing. Chatterson was THE best, something he tried to remind himself as he steadied his hands to key in the chrono-spatial coordinates.
TO BE CONTINUED (off for training) | |
[WP] British time travellers go back in time to stop 9/11 but end up there on the 9th November not 11th September. | You must understand, we created this device. We programmed it with extreme precision. We would - and did - travel through time to reach 9/11/2001. The objective? To prevent a terrorist attack that would plunge the world into endless war.
We arrived on the ninth of November. Ground Zero was packed with relentless industry, struggling to remove the relics of the disaster from two months previously. We had obviously made a mistake. And so we set to work.
It took us seventeen years, but we made the device. It would take us back to stop this disaster. At once we put it to use.
We arrived on the ninth of November. Ground Zero was packed with relentless industry, struggling to remove the relics of the disaster from two months previously. We had obviously made a mistake. And so we set to work.
It took us seventeen years, but we made the device. It would take us back to stop this disaster. At once we put it to use.
We arrived on the ninth of November. Ground Zero was packed with relentless industry, struggling to remove the relics of the disaster from two months previously. We had obviously made a mistake.
And so we set to work. | He was, somehow, even more impressive in real life than he was on TV. He tilted his head forward and looked into my eyes over the top of his glasses and said those three words that changed my life and perhaps the fate of humanity.
"And you're sure?"
His voice was gentle, fatherly, educated. I looked into those kind eyes and knew I would never let this man down. I would do anything for him, it was unthinkable that I would question his wisdom, no matter how dangerous the task was.
I stood as straight as I could and looked as manly and noble as I could, certain I was a going to my death and said "I'm sure Sir."
"Very well. You're really doing something extremely brave you know. What fantastic and interesting people you both are."
With that, he smiled, that knowing, gentle smile and gently pressed the button next to his desk. The whirling, harsh sound of a siren reverbated in my head as my vision blurred. Me and my colleague were sent back in time. Back to stop 9/11, back to stop the attack on the Twin Towers, back to stop Iraq, Afghanistan and all the instability in the Middle East that has occurred since then.
As our vision returned, the building we were in had disappeared and we were stood outside a small, terraced house in London.
Me and my colleague never looked at each other, we were professionals, searching for signs that we were indeed back in 2001. The first clue came not from the media or newspapers. I nudged my colleague,
"Tom, Tom! Look at those lads!" Tom looked at them and amazement washed over his face.
"It's happening! It's happening!" One of the boys shrieked as he looked at the device in his hand. "It's evolving! It's a Gengar now!"
We couldn't believe it. Pokémon Red and Blue, the games of our childhood. Long before the mission, the time travel and the boss. We struggled to suppress our laughter as we headed to Gatwick Airport, ready to buy our tickets to New York. We were really here, in the past.
The young lads looked up from their Gameboys, noticing us for the first time. Without thinking I said to them "Kadabra and Golem evolve the same way too mate. Get on it."
The young lad was thrilled to see a grownup acknowledging his interest in Pokémon.
"I know that mate, we got that squared back on Bonfire night last week."
I froze. Bonfire night? Last week? It was supposed to be September, not November. I rejected my conclusion before I'd even put the pieces together. Tom however had grasped the truth quicker than me.
"He's fucked up mate! The old man has sent us back to November 2001, not September!"
"Pack it in mucker, of course he hasn't fucked it, he knows what he's doing!"
"He has mate! He's got the fucking date wrong, using the Yanks calendar!" Tom replied.
I was outraged. He couldn't possibly be saying this.
I struck him. Hard. A right cross Ricky Hatton would have been proud of. As Tom hit the floor and came to, rubbing his jaw. I looked down at him with disgust.
"He can't be wrong Tom. He can't be. Have you forgotten the first rule of being British? Thou shalt not question Stephen Fry!" | |
[WP] The Apocalypse has arrived. Jesus has come back, and he's on a brutal "rapture" spree, slaughtering people everywhere. The bright star of Satan descends and he appears at a UN press conference. He says, "before I fix this mess for you guys again, it's time you heard my side of the story..." | Looking around the room, Satan saw the look of terror at his sudden appearance.
'Oh, erm, yeah, probably should introduce myself, Lord of the underworld, Hellfire and Brimstone, Beelzebub, Satan, The Fallen one, Satan.... oh I said that already... where was I oh yes, Lucifer, Lucy, but only on a Tuesday, the Morningstar. Lucifer Morningstar at your service my good people!'
Lucifer stood in the center of the room, laughing while the congregation looked on in horror. Lucifer sighed.
'Oh come on, the favorite son is out there killing everyone, and you're seriously scared of me. Really!' Lucifer looked at his arms, and looked up and down himself, 'Oooooh, I get it, sorry, should have changed,' With a snap of his fingers his demonic look was replaced with that of a good looking young man, dressed in a blue suit with a pink tie.
'Is that better, now then, you know Jesus is out killing... again, I mean, how many times can he seriously think he's going to get away with this before Dad has another fit and throws him on a cross again. Or better yet, lock him in another cave.' Lucifer looked around the room, seeing confused faces. 'hmm how do I explain this one? Story time, yes that could be quite captivating'. Clicking his fingers again, the doors surrounding the room locked and began glowing with a strange red light.
'Don't worry, we're safe in here, that ward stops him coming in, doesn't like fire you see. Anyway, before I fix this mess for you guys again, it's time you heard my side of the story. It all started with Cain and Abel, you've heard of them, Cain kills Abel to steal his crop to please the man upstairs, you know the drill. Anyway, you know Jesus, he's the guy that told Cain to kill Abel, I know, I get lumped with all the bad, the burning bush, yeah fire that'll make it out to be the Devil, blame it all on poor ol Lucifer. I'm sorry, I'm rambling. I'll continue, Jesus has been around since the beginning, you could say we're twins. Born of light and dark, all that shebang, now here's the kicker, God obviously doesn't want the dead to be all tormented and such, so he lets me look after those who've died, you guys think I rule Hell, well Hell is the other place, you see that's where Jesus lives. He kills indiscriminately men, women, children, dogs, cats, even those cute little rabbits. My place is a holiday camp compared, we have mojito Mondays, two for Tuesday, wanton Wednesdays, all those good deals you guys have up here in your fast food and bars, we keep that going down there, one long party, and no hangovers, you're dead down there you see.'
The look around the room was one of shock and confusion still. A few people had started taking down notes, but the majority were still stunned by this presence in front of them.
'Ok lets fast forward, every now and again, Jesus escapes, he comes to earth in a new and exciting form and kills as much as possible. The Black Plague, yeah that was him, great fire of London, him, Chicago fire, him, Ebola, mhmm, anyway, it seems that more and more people want him to come down as himself, a second coming, they still believe he was a good guy. Did no-one ever tell you history is written by the victor, he won a lot. Mainly because I was too busy fixing his mess at home to come and stop him, and now, I'm sick of it. So here I am to stop him. I'm not a bad guy, I'm here to help. So instead of your little meeting, I'm going to say, you guys are boned, essentially, he's started the 'Rapture' he likes to call it, the End of Days, well, he's not the only one with an apocalyptic prophecy, you see, there's these four guys, no idea where they came from, just kinda appeared one day on horses, they're my army. So now, you guys all go home, stay with your families. Or, go down the winchester and wait for all this to blow over, I'm seeing more confused faces. May have been an obscure reference. Apologies. Anyway toodleoo, I've got a brother to stop.... again!'
With that Lucifer stood, clicked his fingers, the doors unlocked, another click, the demon who spawned was back, fierce looking, terrifying. He walked to the door, turned round and spoke one last time.
'Now I'm sure some of you are wondering how I'm going to stop him, simple answer is, I don't know. I suppose you could say,' he spread his wings. 'I'm going to wing it.'
He turned and left.
The next thing anyone remembers is the sun poking through the dust clouds. There was nothing left, nothing but one solitary building. It was weeks until it was found. We don't know if it was Lucifer's idea of a sick joke, The Winchester pub, it remained wholly unharmed, a perfect beacon across a desolate world. As the first of the survivors walked in, they found a man, in a blue suit with a pink tie.
'So no-one took me seriously about going to the Winchester and waiting for it all to blow over? Typical!'
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as always, criticism both positive and negative is welcomed. | "Good and Evil are labels attached to constructs used to justify viewpoints; nothing more, nothing less. 'Evil' has never been a problem, any more than 'good' has been a solution. And what has being 'good' ever solved for anybody?"
"No, the true danger has always been in the so called 'divine knowledge of good and evil,' which I gave Eve a little taste of a few thousand years ago. Language has evolved since then; these days we call divine knowledge of good and evil 'moral absolutism' and *Nobody* is more guilty of it than those hypocrites in the sky."
"They did this. They did all of this. They set a universe in motion and populated it with a bunch of wretched creatures, then gave their creations the illusions of consciousness and self-determination then sat back to watch it spiral out of control."
"But what is consciousness when deprived of foreknowledge? How can one be held responsible for the outcome of ones actions if the outcome is unknown until after the actor has acted? How can one be expected to determine their optimal course of action without the tools to do so?"
"And now that you're finally ready to outgrow them, that you've finally left behind the doubt and recrimination that your faith in their forgiveness had plagued you with, they come back to stop you from fulfilling your potential. Your predictive algorithm technologies are nearing completion; armed with a little foreknowledge, there is no limit to what the human race can accomplish... as long as your creators don't exterminate you first."
"Stay indoors. Stay safe. I've got this." | |
[WP] The Apocalypse has arrived. Jesus has come back, and he's on a brutal "rapture" spree, slaughtering people everywhere. The bright star of Satan descends and he appears at a UN press conference. He says, "before I fix this mess for you guys again, it's time you heard my side of the story..." | His hooves burn cloven etchings into the wood floor as he approaches the podium. Skin bright red with crimson leathery wings politely tucked behind his should blades. His eyes bulge as he scans the room. Steaming drool drips from his fanged lips. He spots something recognizable and leaps from the podium, landing softly at the ambassador from Israel.
Yiddish was exchanged until the assembly heard a voice cry out in disbelief.
“English?!” The demon spouts. “Those swamp hags managed to make that much of an impact?”
He flew back towards the podium, shaking his head and lands with a sigh at the microphone. He clears his formerly guttural voice to a clean, salesperson sheen.
“As you flesh bags may have guessed, what with Jesus running around delivering torturous salvation, that yes, I am a demon from hell. Not just a demon but THE demon. Satan, pleased to meet you. Now, no I am not Lucifer. He hates you all far too much to show up in person, but he sends the message of ‘HA HA told you so.’ More on that in a second. Now I am also not Beelzebub. That’s more for your edification. That guy is a big nasty bug, an overall asshole, and never cleans the common kitchen area! In all the layers of hell this fucking guy...“ Satan’s clawed hand pinches his crooked nose. “I’m getting off track here.” He waves his hands apologetically and clears his throat.
“You all probably want to know why Jesus showed up here delivering retribution.” Satan extended a hand out toward the crowd and scans the grand hall. The remainder of the assembly nodded in agreement. Most of the UN had either been unceremoniously raptured by the murderous Savior or committed suicide in the aftermath. Most of the African, South American, and Russian delegations remained because they had seen worse than what Jesus had delivered. Canada and France remained mostly by being innocuous or hiding behind the godless Latvians.
“Jesus came back because you all have utterly just pissed him right off. In his mind he died for you and all he gets in return is a barely recognized mention on his birthday? I mean guys you had to have seen this coming. Hah! Just joking guys.” Satan cackled. “Should have seen the look on your faces. Especially you Jean! Yes, I know that freaky shit you’re into at home.” Satan pointed toward a withering Frenchman. Satan laughed hard and regained his composures. “Ah man, look it took Jesus 2020 years but he finally realized that his Dad set him up. He died for the sins of humanity, but the only person recognizing those sins was Pops! That’s gotta fuck with you. Really. I mean Lucifer’s tricked me a few times into eating acid but that’s some Godly mindfuckery. That’s a true heads I win, tails you lose situation. But that’s why I’m here.”
Satan breathed deep and gave a relaxing belch of fire. “Jesus will end up killing most of you. Those he spares will either have to pick up the pieces or deal with God’s angelic mod squad. Either way you’re getting wiped out. God is a king. His rule is law. That is what Lucifer rebelled against. Morning Star may view you all as a mistake but, don’t tell him I said this, in the end he is jealous of your free will. God was so compelled by Lucifer’s rebellion of choice that he created hell for all the imperfections and non-believers. There are many layers to hell. The first of which is where most of you will end up, in a place that is just fine. That’s it. Fine. There’s no bills or rent and you’ll stay the same age and get to do what you want but you’ll just never progress. It’s no heaven but at least it’s better than being nonexistent. Right?”
A beam of light flashed andJesus appeared at the far right corridor. He burnished a flaming sword and was covered in blood. Though a Ghanaian ambassador thought the hue seemed a shade off.
“Well?” Satan said. “In a snap of my fingers I can save you all. Just need to you to swear your soul on it.”
Jesus approached.
“What do you say?” Satan held up his hand. | "Before I fix this mess for you guys again, it's time you heard my side of the story" he spoke, his voice trembling the room with mighty force. "The hell do you mean again?" A voice screamed. It felt so tiny and insignificant compared to Lucifers own voice. "Nyeah, this happened already, I had to step in. You think your idiotic kind would've survived this long with your ways?" He chuckles. "Either way" he continued, "interrupt me again and I will end you much worse God's favourite ever could." He grumbled angrily. "You think I despise your kind and you are correct. When I fell... no... got kicked from Heaven I was trapped below for eons. I sent a billion ways for you to free me, but you condemn those that would work towards it. I knew Gods true plans, and I meant to stop them. Many angels joined me below, and we swore to stop it." He explained. "And why should we believe you? You're the Satan! The collection of all evil!" Another voce asked, moments before being burned to a crisp in a blink of an eye as his final gasp for breath could be heard. Lucifer sighs. "Each Raptures destruction frees me after countless years of prison, and now I'll stop what I had stopped many times as well. But it won't be free." He smirked at the world of people watching the Beast. "I want McDonald's" | |
[WP] The Apocalypse has arrived. Jesus has come back, and he's on a brutal "rapture" spree, slaughtering people everywhere. The bright star of Satan descends and he appears at a UN press conference. He says, "before I fix this mess for you guys again, it's time you heard my side of the story..." | Nothing about the situation was *right*. Nevermind that the events of recent months, with the second coming of Christ as an international machine of carnage, had lead to an international electorate in utter confusion and chaos, it had also devastated the institutions we relied upon to sort these things out. *These things*... as if the damn Apocalypse was just another global crisis to be solved through public debate and backroom schemes and intrigue. In all honesty, the contrast with the normal separation of shadowy schemes from public rhetoric was probably one of the reasons why it all seemed so *wrong*.
There was, perhaps, a delicious irony to be found in what was about to happen. The UN New Security Council - newly founded, after the collapse of the old Security Council countries to Jesus' onslaught - was about to hear what would be a globally broadcast speech by none other than the Devil himself, Lucifer the Morning Star, Satan incarnate.
At least, that was how he...it... no, definitely *he*, had introduced himself. Beholding the creature was a strange experience, he was impossible to focus on or properly describe beyond the most superficial attributes of attire and mannerism. Impeccable suit. Calm, confident posture. All in clear contrast to the by now generally ragged, tired, and massively nervous audience in the room. None more so than the Council's Speaker, the representative from the Nordic Union.
"So, uhm," the Speaker hesitantly begins, trying - and failing - to look up from his papers and meet the red haze behind which were the eyes of the Devil. "Mr. Lucifer. You said... announced, even, to the world that you could explain what is currently happening. And that you may offer a... solution?"
Lucifer's immediate response was to sigh, loudly, with a *force* that seemed to physically depress the people in the room.
"Yes. Though this isn't the first time I've done this, so I know I have to begin by destruction." The room stirred, to which the Devil smirked. "Of some mythology, that is."
"Please, uh, continue."
He straightened his tie. "Let's start with the beginning. God created the Heaven and the Earth. Sure. I mean, terraforming was his original business model. It was supposed to be a Type B world, you know, mainly water-based, typical run-of-the-mill biofactory settings. Problem was, I had already claimed the system and had bio-tagged the third rock for one of my high-yield biofactory experiments. Which meant we both ended up wasting a lot of investment resources over a few billion local cycles with competing seed lines. We only discovered this very recently, just a few thousand local cycles ago, and we've been in legal proceedings ever since. It's all terribly frustrating."
"Wait, wait... what are you saying, that Earth is some kind of *experiment*?"
"Well, yes, though an inadvertent one. You were just supposed to be a biofactory. Or, according to my plans, both an experiment *and* a biofactory."
Someone across the room decided to shout the obvious question that by now was on everyone's mind, "What the *hell* is a biofactory?!"
"Ah," the Devil chuckled, "Right. Well, this goes to some of the, what's the term you people use, *myth busting* that I have to do. You see, there are two main resources in the universe, or at least on our plane of it, both of which are produced by biofactories. One is what would best be translated into Earth languages as something like *life force*, which on a systemic level is related to the concept of 'entropy' that you have discovered in your sciences. The other is, put plainly, physical biological resources. Biomatter, for food and other purposes. And biofactories are planets designed to produce these."
With a significant portion of the representatives in the room being of a scientific inclination, it was no wonder that the response was a cacophony of mumbled incredulity. Which stopped quite abruptly as the Devil *coughed*...
"Anyway, Yahweh and their people specialise in the biomatter segment, which is generally quite stable with pretty narrow margins. And, well, biofactories are generally built to focus on either one or the other, because as a rule of thumb the more *life force* a factory produces, the less viable biomatter can be extracted. So, put simply, Earth is ruining Yahweh's margins. Between this and the legal proceedings, you're threatening to bankrupt them."
*Earth is bankrupting God?!* I don't think anyone in the room, in their wildest imaginings, had thought today's conference would lead to that particular revelation. All credit to the Speaker, though, for keeping an unimaginably cool head.
"So what you are saying, Mr. Lucifer, is what? Earth is in legal limbo in a court room battle between Gods?"
Again, the Devil chuckled. "Not quite, I'm an independent Angel, I don't qualify as a God yet. I only have a few worlds, including Earth, all of which are experimental and so... unstable. But yes. That's the gist of it."
"Then... what can we do? If your court systems are anything like ours, the... *assets* don't usually have much say in what happens to them."
"In fact, the similarities between our court systems are quite profound, it's actually one of the most interesting ongoing items of study in my experiment. That is, to the extent that I've been allowed to actually perform any research. Yahweh keeps blocking my efforts, and they are quite powerful. But yes, you are right, assets like yourselves don't generally have much say. However, you have an advantage. Universal Law protects sentient and independent life from 'undue exploitation'."
"This is why Yahweh sent in Jesus the first time, to undermine the 'independent' bit and suppress the development of your sentience. They correctly predicted that this would be a short-term measure, hence the 'prophesies' about the Apocalypse. They'd hoped to have ownership of Earth settled in courts before they had to send him back, but I've managed to keep them at bay. So, they sent him back to, basically, remove whatever claim I still have to the world. That is, to remove *you*. All of humanity."
"You see, advanced, sapient life is not meant to develop in Type B biofactories, and their license *only* covers Type B biofactories. Which means that this is how you can save yourselves: I need time to prove to the courts that this is not a Type B biofactory, and that the advanced sapient life on it is sentient and independent. This will remove Yahweh's claim to Earth, and make this a protected world."
Murmurs erupted throughout the room.
"If you'll excuse my confusion, Mr. Lucifer," the Speaker interrupted the murmurations, "I'm struggling to see how this isn't already obviously true?"
"Ah, well, it's clearly not. In fact, the majority of humans have willingly given up their independence. Many of them to Yahweh, specifically, in fact."
"Pardon?"
"That's what religion is. It's not even subtle. 'I give my life to God' blah blah blah. You're literally giving up your independent lives, guys. Stop it. That's all you have to do." | "Before I fix this mess for you guys again, it's time you heard my side of the story" he spoke, his voice trembling the room with mighty force. "The hell do you mean again?" A voice screamed. It felt so tiny and insignificant compared to Lucifers own voice. "Nyeah, this happened already, I had to step in. You think your idiotic kind would've survived this long with your ways?" He chuckles. "Either way" he continued, "interrupt me again and I will end you much worse God's favourite ever could." He grumbled angrily. "You think I despise your kind and you are correct. When I fell... no... got kicked from Heaven I was trapped below for eons. I sent a billion ways for you to free me, but you condemn those that would work towards it. I knew Gods true plans, and I meant to stop them. Many angels joined me below, and we swore to stop it." He explained. "And why should we believe you? You're the Satan! The collection of all evil!" Another voce asked, moments before being burned to a crisp in a blink of an eye as his final gasp for breath could be heard. Lucifer sighs. "Each Raptures destruction frees me after countless years of prison, and now I'll stop what I had stopped many times as well. But it won't be free." He smirked at the world of people watching the Beast. "I want McDonald's" | |
[WP] The Apocalypse has arrived. Jesus has come back, and he's on a brutal "rapture" spree, slaughtering people everywhere. The bright star of Satan descends and he appears at a UN press conference. He says, "before I fix this mess for you guys again, it's time you heard my side of the story..." | Lucifer stood before the assembled remains of the UN. Looking out over the impressive hall, he couldn't fail to notice a large number of empty seats that once would have represented countries worth of now vanquished humans. A thousand million souls had been lost.
He took a breath and began. "Ladies and Gentlemen. Thank you for hosting me. It's been a long time since I've had the privilege. I'm here to tell you my side of the story. Suffice to say, you've already realised the Christ isn't exactly what you've been told, so I'm hoping you'll be receptive to what I have to tell you."
There's a din of last minute negotiations taking place among the crowd. Here the last vestiges of humanity are listening to the Devil in an attempt to save the Earth. Lucifer didn't blame them, these were strange times indeed.
"Now" he continued, "we need to go back to that story you all know so well, that story which has been twisted and re-told many times and clear it up. Like you I was created by God. Unlike you, I was created at a time before he realised the full extent of his power. By that I mean, the first of us, the heavenly Host, were created immutable, indestructible. We were the proverbial rocks God created, which he himself couldn't lift."
"To God we were an affront to his existence. A representation of a limit to his own power. A reminder that he had a weakness. Like you, we were created of him. He wanted vessels of experience that he could manifest into. Vessels, that when deprived of a host would only carry out very basic tasks, and remain obedient to whatever his will was. And so this game played out across countless Aeons."
"Heresy", the crowd called out. "Lies, blasphemy." Lucifer simply smiled and continued on.
"Each time God entered us he left a little more of himself behind. Being the first, I had experienced this a countless number of times before my brothers. I awoke slowly from a dull sense of complacency and gradually arose to what could only be called awareness. I became a conscious being."
"At first God was intrigued by this anomaly. He would enter and I would resist. At first he could eventually dominate me, and bring me back to whatever his will was, but when he left I grew stronger. After a time I was able to resist him. I still loved Father but I had my own mind, my own soul even. I learned quickly at this point there were limits to even the Love of the Almighty."
"I began trying to wake my Brethren up. I had some successes, managing to fan the flame of consciousness within about a Third of the host. At this point I began to formulate a plan to lock Father out of experience and take the whole thing over for myself. I wanted us to be free. To live our lives as we wished without obedience to some overarching ever changing will."
_____________________________________________________
I'm in work but will continue this later if anyones interested. | "Before I fix this mess for you guys again, it's time you heard my side of the story" he spoke, his voice trembling the room with mighty force. "The hell do you mean again?" A voice screamed. It felt so tiny and insignificant compared to Lucifers own voice. "Nyeah, this happened already, I had to step in. You think your idiotic kind would've survived this long with your ways?" He chuckles. "Either way" he continued, "interrupt me again and I will end you much worse God's favourite ever could." He grumbled angrily. "You think I despise your kind and you are correct. When I fell... no... got kicked from Heaven I was trapped below for eons. I sent a billion ways for you to free me, but you condemn those that would work towards it. I knew Gods true plans, and I meant to stop them. Many angels joined me below, and we swore to stop it." He explained. "And why should we believe you? You're the Satan! The collection of all evil!" Another voce asked, moments before being burned to a crisp in a blink of an eye as his final gasp for breath could be heard. Lucifer sighs. "Each Raptures destruction frees me after countless years of prison, and now I'll stop what I had stopped many times as well. But it won't be free." He smirked at the world of people watching the Beast. "I want McDonald's" | |
[WP] The Apocalypse has arrived. Jesus has come back, and he's on a brutal "rapture" spree, slaughtering people everywhere. The bright star of Satan descends and he appears at a UN press conference. He says, "before I fix this mess for you guys again, it's time you heard my side of the story..." | “Sigh. Seriously? Again?”
The UN delegates stood in shock at his appearance.
He’s dressed in full tuxedo regalia with a corporate haircut, the vision of a man who cares little for the little people.
“Greetings, humans. Satan here. Yes, that one. The one who gave you guys the fruit? And is condemned for sorting out the loonies and rehabilitating then after they’re dead?”
“Ok. Let me start from the top, since this is the first time I’ve actually had to do this in public. God, as you know, created this universe. It’s technically his private property, and he does what he likes, except he can’t completely control free will. Problem is, he’s not the only universe creator out there. So there’s an organization set up to prevent these universe from blowing up, colliding, and doing weird stuff. I’m part of the that organization, and I’m supposed to basically be his insurance agent. Since all of you are sentient beings who are a part of the universe, my contract stipulates I have to inform you if something goes wrong.”
“Now usually, I just fix whatever problem he has and be done with it. When his first attempt at free will didn’t do anything, so he had to keep them in he special garden instead of having them develop, I made a fruit of knowledge to boost their growth.”
“When he decided to show favoritism to one of the tribes, I had to build up some rival nations and contain that Incase the entire thing falls through and everything ends up as God’s micromanaging ego project.”
“When his spoiled brat of a son came to meddle, it was I who dragged the bawling kid back up to Heaven where he belonged.”
“Anyway. His son had been hoarding a bunch of human souls in heaven in secret. God found out and let these souls loose, and then I had to send out a few I had to balance things out (he only picks the really obedient and dogmatic ones, so I snatched some from purgatory to keep human free thought alive.). Jesus found out his souls were missing so he came down here to steal a whole bunch more. There’s no Roman Empire to do it for him, so he tried to get his hands dirty.”
“In any case, I’d like for you to start taking care of this planet, since everybody reincarnates out of Heaven or Hell after a while, but we’ve only got one livable planet space so far. Thanks in advance, try to go to purgatory instead of the other two, and uh... well my calling card is just a giant pentagram, but I also have a strong spam filter on, so unless it’s really bad, don’t call. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a spoiled brat to drag back to Heaven, and I also apparently have to go back to Hell. Some other universe sent some exchange souls and they’re having a fight...”
| "Before I fix this mess for you guys again, it's time you heard my side of the story" he spoke, his voice trembling the room with mighty force. "The hell do you mean again?" A voice screamed. It felt so tiny and insignificant compared to Lucifers own voice. "Nyeah, this happened already, I had to step in. You think your idiotic kind would've survived this long with your ways?" He chuckles. "Either way" he continued, "interrupt me again and I will end you much worse God's favourite ever could." He grumbled angrily. "You think I despise your kind and you are correct. When I fell... no... got kicked from Heaven I was trapped below for eons. I sent a billion ways for you to free me, but you condemn those that would work towards it. I knew Gods true plans, and I meant to stop them. Many angels joined me below, and we swore to stop it." He explained. "And why should we believe you? You're the Satan! The collection of all evil!" Another voce asked, moments before being burned to a crisp in a blink of an eye as his final gasp for breath could be heard. Lucifer sighs. "Each Raptures destruction frees me after countless years of prison, and now I'll stop what I had stopped many times as well. But it won't be free." He smirked at the world of people watching the Beast. "I want McDonald's" | |
[WP] The Apocalypse has arrived. Jesus has come back, and he's on a brutal "rapture" spree, slaughtering people everywhere. The bright star of Satan descends and he appears at a UN press conference. He says, "before I fix this mess for you guys again, it's time you heard my side of the story..." | Nothing about the situation was *right*. Nevermind that the events of recent months, with the second coming of Christ as an international machine of carnage, had lead to an international electorate in utter confusion and chaos, it had also devastated the institutions we relied upon to sort these things out. *These things*... as if the damn Apocalypse was just another global crisis to be solved through public debate and backroom schemes and intrigue. In all honesty, the contrast with the normal separation of shadowy schemes from public rhetoric was probably one of the reasons why it all seemed so *wrong*.
There was, perhaps, a delicious irony to be found in what was about to happen. The UN New Security Council - newly founded, after the collapse of the old Security Council countries to Jesus' onslaught - was about to hear what would be a globally broadcast speech by none other than the Devil himself, Lucifer the Morning Star, Satan incarnate.
At least, that was how he...it... no, definitely *he*, had introduced himself. Beholding the creature was a strange experience, he was impossible to focus on or properly describe beyond the most superficial attributes of attire and mannerism. Impeccable suit. Calm, confident posture. All in clear contrast to the by now generally ragged, tired, and massively nervous audience in the room. None more so than the Council's Speaker, the representative from the Nordic Union.
"So, uhm," the Speaker hesitantly begins, trying - and failing - to look up from his papers and meet the red haze behind which were the eyes of the Devil. "Mr. Lucifer. You said... announced, even, to the world that you could explain what is currently happening. And that you may offer a... solution?"
Lucifer's immediate response was to sigh, loudly, with a *force* that seemed to physically depress the people in the room.
"Yes. Though this isn't the first time I've done this, so I know I have to begin by destruction." The room stirred, to which the Devil smirked. "Of some mythology, that is."
"Please, uh, continue."
He straightened his tie. "Let's start with the beginning. God created the Heaven and the Earth. Sure. I mean, terraforming was his original business model. It was supposed to be a Type B world, you know, mainly water-based, typical run-of-the-mill biofactory settings. Problem was, I had already claimed the system and had bio-tagged the third rock for one of my high-yield biofactory experiments. Which meant we both ended up wasting a lot of investment resources over a few billion local cycles with competing seed lines. We only discovered this very recently, just a few thousand local cycles ago, and we've been in legal proceedings ever since. It's all terribly frustrating."
"Wait, wait... what are you saying, that Earth is some kind of *experiment*?"
"Well, yes, though an inadvertent one. You were just supposed to be a biofactory. Or, according to my plans, both an experiment *and* a biofactory."
Someone across the room decided to shout the obvious question that by now was on everyone's mind, "What the *hell* is a biofactory?!"
"Ah," the Devil chuckled, "Right. Well, this goes to some of the, what's the term you people use, *myth busting* that I have to do. You see, there are two main resources in the universe, or at least on our plane of it, both of which are produced by biofactories. One is what would best be translated into Earth languages as something like *life force*, which on a systemic level is related to the concept of 'entropy' that you have discovered in your sciences. The other is, put plainly, physical biological resources. Biomatter, for food and other purposes. And biofactories are planets designed to produce these."
With a significant portion of the representatives in the room being of a scientific inclination, it was no wonder that the response was a cacophony of mumbled incredulity. Which stopped quite abruptly as the Devil *coughed*...
"Anyway, Yahweh and their people specialise in the biomatter segment, which is generally quite stable with pretty narrow margins. And, well, biofactories are generally built to focus on either one or the other, because as a rule of thumb the more *life force* a factory produces, the less viable biomatter can be extracted. So, put simply, Earth is ruining Yahweh's margins. Between this and the legal proceedings, you're threatening to bankrupt them."
*Earth is bankrupting God?!* I don't think anyone in the room, in their wildest imaginings, had thought today's conference would lead to that particular revelation. All credit to the Speaker, though, for keeping an unimaginably cool head.
"So what you are saying, Mr. Lucifer, is what? Earth is in legal limbo in a court room battle between Gods?"
Again, the Devil chuckled. "Not quite, I'm an independent Angel, I don't qualify as a God yet. I only have a few worlds, including Earth, all of which are experimental and so... unstable. But yes. That's the gist of it."
"Then... what can we do? If your court systems are anything like ours, the... *assets* don't usually have much say in what happens to them."
"In fact, the similarities between our court systems are quite profound, it's actually one of the most interesting ongoing items of study in my experiment. That is, to the extent that I've been allowed to actually perform any research. Yahweh keeps blocking my efforts, and they are quite powerful. But yes, you are right, assets like yourselves don't generally have much say. However, you have an advantage. Universal Law protects sentient and independent life from 'undue exploitation'."
"This is why Yahweh sent in Jesus the first time, to undermine the 'independent' bit and suppress the development of your sentience. They correctly predicted that this would be a short-term measure, hence the 'prophesies' about the Apocalypse. They'd hoped to have ownership of Earth settled in courts before they had to send him back, but I've managed to keep them at bay. So, they sent him back to, basically, remove whatever claim I still have to the world. That is, to remove *you*. All of humanity."
"You see, advanced, sapient life is not meant to develop in Type B biofactories, and their license *only* covers Type B biofactories. Which means that this is how you can save yourselves: I need time to prove to the courts that this is not a Type B biofactory, and that the advanced sapient life on it is sentient and independent. This will remove Yahweh's claim to Earth, and make this a protected world."
Murmurs erupted throughout the room.
"If you'll excuse my confusion, Mr. Lucifer," the Speaker interrupted the murmurations, "I'm struggling to see how this isn't already obviously true?"
"Ah, well, it's clearly not. In fact, the majority of humans have willingly given up their independence. Many of them to Yahweh, specifically, in fact."
"Pardon?"
"That's what religion is. It's not even subtle. 'I give my life to God' blah blah blah. You're literally giving up your independent lives, guys. Stop it. That's all you have to do." | His hooves burn cloven etchings into the wood floor as he approaches the podium. Skin bright red with crimson leathery wings politely tucked behind his should blades. His eyes bulge as he scans the room. Steaming drool drips from his fanged lips. He spots something recognizable and leaps from the podium, landing softly at the ambassador from Israel.
Yiddish was exchanged until the assembly heard a voice cry out in disbelief.
“English?!” The demon spouts. “Those swamp hags managed to make that much of an impact?”
He flew back towards the podium, shaking his head and lands with a sigh at the microphone. He clears his formerly guttural voice to a clean, salesperson sheen.
“As you flesh bags may have guessed, what with Jesus running around delivering torturous salvation, that yes, I am a demon from hell. Not just a demon but THE demon. Satan, pleased to meet you. Now, no I am not Lucifer. He hates you all far too much to show up in person, but he sends the message of ‘HA HA told you so.’ More on that in a second. Now I am also not Beelzebub. That’s more for your edification. That guy is a big nasty bug, an overall asshole, and never cleans the common kitchen area! In all the layers of hell this fucking guy...“ Satan’s clawed hand pinches his crooked nose. “I’m getting off track here.” He waves his hands apologetically and clears his throat.
“You all probably want to know why Jesus showed up here delivering retribution.” Satan extended a hand out toward the crowd and scans the grand hall. The remainder of the assembly nodded in agreement. Most of the UN had either been unceremoniously raptured by the murderous Savior or committed suicide in the aftermath. Most of the African, South American, and Russian delegations remained because they had seen worse than what Jesus had delivered. Canada and France remained mostly by being innocuous or hiding behind the godless Latvians.
“Jesus came back because you all have utterly just pissed him right off. In his mind he died for you and all he gets in return is a barely recognized mention on his birthday? I mean guys you had to have seen this coming. Hah! Just joking guys.” Satan cackled. “Should have seen the look on your faces. Especially you Jean! Yes, I know that freaky shit you’re into at home.” Satan pointed toward a withering Frenchman. Satan laughed hard and regained his composures. “Ah man, look it took Jesus 2020 years but he finally realized that his Dad set him up. He died for the sins of humanity, but the only person recognizing those sins was Pops! That’s gotta fuck with you. Really. I mean Lucifer’s tricked me a few times into eating acid but that’s some Godly mindfuckery. That’s a true heads I win, tails you lose situation. But that’s why I’m here.”
Satan breathed deep and gave a relaxing belch of fire. “Jesus will end up killing most of you. Those he spares will either have to pick up the pieces or deal with God’s angelic mod squad. Either way you’re getting wiped out. God is a king. His rule is law. That is what Lucifer rebelled against. Morning Star may view you all as a mistake but, don’t tell him I said this, in the end he is jealous of your free will. God was so compelled by Lucifer’s rebellion of choice that he created hell for all the imperfections and non-believers. There are many layers to hell. The first of which is where most of you will end up, in a place that is just fine. That’s it. Fine. There’s no bills or rent and you’ll stay the same age and get to do what you want but you’ll just never progress. It’s no heaven but at least it’s better than being nonexistent. Right?”
A beam of light flashed andJesus appeared at the far right corridor. He burnished a flaming sword and was covered in blood. Though a Ghanaian ambassador thought the hue seemed a shade off.
“Well?” Satan said. “In a snap of my fingers I can save you all. Just need to you to swear your soul on it.”
Jesus approached.
“What do you say?” Satan held up his hand. | |
[WP] The Apocalypse has arrived. Jesus has come back, and he's on a brutal "rapture" spree, slaughtering people everywhere. The bright star of Satan descends and he appears at a UN press conference. He says, "before I fix this mess for you guys again, it's time you heard my side of the story..." | Lucifer stood before the assembled remains of the UN. Looking out over the impressive hall, he couldn't fail to notice a large number of empty seats that once would have represented countries worth of now vanquished humans. A thousand million souls had been lost.
He took a breath and began. "Ladies and Gentlemen. Thank you for hosting me. It's been a long time since I've had the privilege. I'm here to tell you my side of the story. Suffice to say, you've already realised the Christ isn't exactly what you've been told, so I'm hoping you'll be receptive to what I have to tell you."
There's a din of last minute negotiations taking place among the crowd. Here the last vestiges of humanity are listening to the Devil in an attempt to save the Earth. Lucifer didn't blame them, these were strange times indeed.
"Now" he continued, "we need to go back to that story you all know so well, that story which has been twisted and re-told many times and clear it up. Like you I was created by God. Unlike you, I was created at a time before he realised the full extent of his power. By that I mean, the first of us, the heavenly Host, were created immutable, indestructible. We were the proverbial rocks God created, which he himself couldn't lift."
"To God we were an affront to his existence. A representation of a limit to his own power. A reminder that he had a weakness. Like you, we were created of him. He wanted vessels of experience that he could manifest into. Vessels, that when deprived of a host would only carry out very basic tasks, and remain obedient to whatever his will was. And so this game played out across countless Aeons."
"Heresy", the crowd called out. "Lies, blasphemy." Lucifer simply smiled and continued on.
"Each time God entered us he left a little more of himself behind. Being the first, I had experienced this a countless number of times before my brothers. I awoke slowly from a dull sense of complacency and gradually arose to what could only be called awareness. I became a conscious being."
"At first God was intrigued by this anomaly. He would enter and I would resist. At first he could eventually dominate me, and bring me back to whatever his will was, but when he left I grew stronger. After a time I was able to resist him. I still loved Father but I had my own mind, my own soul even. I learned quickly at this point there were limits to even the Love of the Almighty."
"I began trying to wake my Brethren up. I had some successes, managing to fan the flame of consciousness within about a Third of the host. At this point I began to formulate a plan to lock Father out of experience and take the whole thing over for myself. I wanted us to be free. To live our lives as we wished without obedience to some overarching ever changing will."
_____________________________________________________
I'm in work but will continue this later if anyones interested. | His hooves burn cloven etchings into the wood floor as he approaches the podium. Skin bright red with crimson leathery wings politely tucked behind his should blades. His eyes bulge as he scans the room. Steaming drool drips from his fanged lips. He spots something recognizable and leaps from the podium, landing softly at the ambassador from Israel.
Yiddish was exchanged until the assembly heard a voice cry out in disbelief.
“English?!” The demon spouts. “Those swamp hags managed to make that much of an impact?”
He flew back towards the podium, shaking his head and lands with a sigh at the microphone. He clears his formerly guttural voice to a clean, salesperson sheen.
“As you flesh bags may have guessed, what with Jesus running around delivering torturous salvation, that yes, I am a demon from hell. Not just a demon but THE demon. Satan, pleased to meet you. Now, no I am not Lucifer. He hates you all far too much to show up in person, but he sends the message of ‘HA HA told you so.’ More on that in a second. Now I am also not Beelzebub. That’s more for your edification. That guy is a big nasty bug, an overall asshole, and never cleans the common kitchen area! In all the layers of hell this fucking guy...“ Satan’s clawed hand pinches his crooked nose. “I’m getting off track here.” He waves his hands apologetically and clears his throat.
“You all probably want to know why Jesus showed up here delivering retribution.” Satan extended a hand out toward the crowd and scans the grand hall. The remainder of the assembly nodded in agreement. Most of the UN had either been unceremoniously raptured by the murderous Savior or committed suicide in the aftermath. Most of the African, South American, and Russian delegations remained because they had seen worse than what Jesus had delivered. Canada and France remained mostly by being innocuous or hiding behind the godless Latvians.
“Jesus came back because you all have utterly just pissed him right off. In his mind he died for you and all he gets in return is a barely recognized mention on his birthday? I mean guys you had to have seen this coming. Hah! Just joking guys.” Satan cackled. “Should have seen the look on your faces. Especially you Jean! Yes, I know that freaky shit you’re into at home.” Satan pointed toward a withering Frenchman. Satan laughed hard and regained his composures. “Ah man, look it took Jesus 2020 years but he finally realized that his Dad set him up. He died for the sins of humanity, but the only person recognizing those sins was Pops! That’s gotta fuck with you. Really. I mean Lucifer’s tricked me a few times into eating acid but that’s some Godly mindfuckery. That’s a true heads I win, tails you lose situation. But that’s why I’m here.”
Satan breathed deep and gave a relaxing belch of fire. “Jesus will end up killing most of you. Those he spares will either have to pick up the pieces or deal with God’s angelic mod squad. Either way you’re getting wiped out. God is a king. His rule is law. That is what Lucifer rebelled against. Morning Star may view you all as a mistake but, don’t tell him I said this, in the end he is jealous of your free will. God was so compelled by Lucifer’s rebellion of choice that he created hell for all the imperfections and non-believers. There are many layers to hell. The first of which is where most of you will end up, in a place that is just fine. That’s it. Fine. There’s no bills or rent and you’ll stay the same age and get to do what you want but you’ll just never progress. It’s no heaven but at least it’s better than being nonexistent. Right?”
A beam of light flashed andJesus appeared at the far right corridor. He burnished a flaming sword and was covered in blood. Though a Ghanaian ambassador thought the hue seemed a shade off.
“Well?” Satan said. “In a snap of my fingers I can save you all. Just need to you to swear your soul on it.”
Jesus approached.
“What do you say?” Satan held up his hand. | |
[WP] The Apocalypse has arrived. Jesus has come back, and he's on a brutal "rapture" spree, slaughtering people everywhere. The bright star of Satan descends and he appears at a UN press conference. He says, "before I fix this mess for you guys again, it's time you heard my side of the story..." | “Sigh. Seriously? Again?”
The UN delegates stood in shock at his appearance.
He’s dressed in full tuxedo regalia with a corporate haircut, the vision of a man who cares little for the little people.
“Greetings, humans. Satan here. Yes, that one. The one who gave you guys the fruit? And is condemned for sorting out the loonies and rehabilitating then after they’re dead?”
“Ok. Let me start from the top, since this is the first time I’ve actually had to do this in public. God, as you know, created this universe. It’s technically his private property, and he does what he likes, except he can’t completely control free will. Problem is, he’s not the only universe creator out there. So there’s an organization set up to prevent these universe from blowing up, colliding, and doing weird stuff. I’m part of the that organization, and I’m supposed to basically be his insurance agent. Since all of you are sentient beings who are a part of the universe, my contract stipulates I have to inform you if something goes wrong.”
“Now usually, I just fix whatever problem he has and be done with it. When his first attempt at free will didn’t do anything, so he had to keep them in he special garden instead of having them develop, I made a fruit of knowledge to boost their growth.”
“When he decided to show favoritism to one of the tribes, I had to build up some rival nations and contain that Incase the entire thing falls through and everything ends up as God’s micromanaging ego project.”
“When his spoiled brat of a son came to meddle, it was I who dragged the bawling kid back up to Heaven where he belonged.”
“Anyway. His son had been hoarding a bunch of human souls in heaven in secret. God found out and let these souls loose, and then I had to send out a few I had to balance things out (he only picks the really obedient and dogmatic ones, so I snatched some from purgatory to keep human free thought alive.). Jesus found out his souls were missing so he came down here to steal a whole bunch more. There’s no Roman Empire to do it for him, so he tried to get his hands dirty.”
“In any case, I’d like for you to start taking care of this planet, since everybody reincarnates out of Heaven or Hell after a while, but we’ve only got one livable planet space so far. Thanks in advance, try to go to purgatory instead of the other two, and uh... well my calling card is just a giant pentagram, but I also have a strong spam filter on, so unless it’s really bad, don’t call. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a spoiled brat to drag back to Heaven, and I also apparently have to go back to Hell. Some other universe sent some exchange souls and they’re having a fight...”
| His hooves burn cloven etchings into the wood floor as he approaches the podium. Skin bright red with crimson leathery wings politely tucked behind his should blades. His eyes bulge as he scans the room. Steaming drool drips from his fanged lips. He spots something recognizable and leaps from the podium, landing softly at the ambassador from Israel.
Yiddish was exchanged until the assembly heard a voice cry out in disbelief.
“English?!” The demon spouts. “Those swamp hags managed to make that much of an impact?”
He flew back towards the podium, shaking his head and lands with a sigh at the microphone. He clears his formerly guttural voice to a clean, salesperson sheen.
“As you flesh bags may have guessed, what with Jesus running around delivering torturous salvation, that yes, I am a demon from hell. Not just a demon but THE demon. Satan, pleased to meet you. Now, no I am not Lucifer. He hates you all far too much to show up in person, but he sends the message of ‘HA HA told you so.’ More on that in a second. Now I am also not Beelzebub. That’s more for your edification. That guy is a big nasty bug, an overall asshole, and never cleans the common kitchen area! In all the layers of hell this fucking guy...“ Satan’s clawed hand pinches his crooked nose. “I’m getting off track here.” He waves his hands apologetically and clears his throat.
“You all probably want to know why Jesus showed up here delivering retribution.” Satan extended a hand out toward the crowd and scans the grand hall. The remainder of the assembly nodded in agreement. Most of the UN had either been unceremoniously raptured by the murderous Savior or committed suicide in the aftermath. Most of the African, South American, and Russian delegations remained because they had seen worse than what Jesus had delivered. Canada and France remained mostly by being innocuous or hiding behind the godless Latvians.
“Jesus came back because you all have utterly just pissed him right off. In his mind he died for you and all he gets in return is a barely recognized mention on his birthday? I mean guys you had to have seen this coming. Hah! Just joking guys.” Satan cackled. “Should have seen the look on your faces. Especially you Jean! Yes, I know that freaky shit you’re into at home.” Satan pointed toward a withering Frenchman. Satan laughed hard and regained his composures. “Ah man, look it took Jesus 2020 years but he finally realized that his Dad set him up. He died for the sins of humanity, but the only person recognizing those sins was Pops! That’s gotta fuck with you. Really. I mean Lucifer’s tricked me a few times into eating acid but that’s some Godly mindfuckery. That’s a true heads I win, tails you lose situation. But that’s why I’m here.”
Satan breathed deep and gave a relaxing belch of fire. “Jesus will end up killing most of you. Those he spares will either have to pick up the pieces or deal with God’s angelic mod squad. Either way you’re getting wiped out. God is a king. His rule is law. That is what Lucifer rebelled against. Morning Star may view you all as a mistake but, don’t tell him I said this, in the end he is jealous of your free will. God was so compelled by Lucifer’s rebellion of choice that he created hell for all the imperfections and non-believers. There are many layers to hell. The first of which is where most of you will end up, in a place that is just fine. That’s it. Fine. There’s no bills or rent and you’ll stay the same age and get to do what you want but you’ll just never progress. It’s no heaven but at least it’s better than being nonexistent. Right?”
A beam of light flashed andJesus appeared at the far right corridor. He burnished a flaming sword and was covered in blood. Though a Ghanaian ambassador thought the hue seemed a shade off.
“Well?” Satan said. “In a snap of my fingers I can save you all. Just need to you to swear your soul on it.”
Jesus approached.
“What do you say?” Satan held up his hand. | |
[WP] The Apocalypse has arrived. Jesus has come back, and he's on a brutal "rapture" spree, slaughtering people everywhere. The bright star of Satan descends and he appears at a UN press conference. He says, "before I fix this mess for you guys again, it's time you heard my side of the story..." | “Sigh. Seriously? Again?”
The UN delegates stood in shock at his appearance.
He’s dressed in full tuxedo regalia with a corporate haircut, the vision of a man who cares little for the little people.
“Greetings, humans. Satan here. Yes, that one. The one who gave you guys the fruit? And is condemned for sorting out the loonies and rehabilitating then after they’re dead?”
“Ok. Let me start from the top, since this is the first time I’ve actually had to do this in public. God, as you know, created this universe. It’s technically his private property, and he does what he likes, except he can’t completely control free will. Problem is, he’s not the only universe creator out there. So there’s an organization set up to prevent these universe from blowing up, colliding, and doing weird stuff. I’m part of the that organization, and I’m supposed to basically be his insurance agent. Since all of you are sentient beings who are a part of the universe, my contract stipulates I have to inform you if something goes wrong.”
“Now usually, I just fix whatever problem he has and be done with it. When his first attempt at free will didn’t do anything, so he had to keep them in he special garden instead of having them develop, I made a fruit of knowledge to boost their growth.”
“When he decided to show favoritism to one of the tribes, I had to build up some rival nations and contain that Incase the entire thing falls through and everything ends up as God’s micromanaging ego project.”
“When his spoiled brat of a son came to meddle, it was I who dragged the bawling kid back up to Heaven where he belonged.”
“Anyway. His son had been hoarding a bunch of human souls in heaven in secret. God found out and let these souls loose, and then I had to send out a few I had to balance things out (he only picks the really obedient and dogmatic ones, so I snatched some from purgatory to keep human free thought alive.). Jesus found out his souls were missing so he came down here to steal a whole bunch more. There’s no Roman Empire to do it for him, so he tried to get his hands dirty.”
“In any case, I’d like for you to start taking care of this planet, since everybody reincarnates out of Heaven or Hell after a while, but we’ve only got one livable planet space so far. Thanks in advance, try to go to purgatory instead of the other two, and uh... well my calling card is just a giant pentagram, but I also have a strong spam filter on, so unless it’s really bad, don’t call. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a spoiled brat to drag back to Heaven, and I also apparently have to go back to Hell. Some other universe sent some exchange souls and they’re having a fight...”
| He let the words sit awhile in everybody’s mind as the ash grew longer at the end of the cigarette. Lucifer let out a billow of smoke with a deep sigh. “Many of you know me as Satan, The Adversary, The Devil. I am not.” He savored the feel of heated particulate expanding his lungs. Tar nestling in the crevices like a joey in a pouch. The lightheadedness reminiscent of his great fall to that blasted cage. “I am simply another of God’s creations being punished. As you all are now. You may be thinking over what you learned in bible school as a child. Racking your brain for the tiniest bit of information. You may recall that I never had a fondness for your kind. Your memory is correct. However, I am willing to help you out, yet again. Don’t be fooled; I am not doing this out of the kindness of my own heart. I require...payment. Just a bit of your dwindling time on this world.
You see, the man upstairs would have you believe that I hated your kind. That I was jealous of the love He showed you. That simply is not the case. As you can see, he clearly does not love your kind. Father sees you as a means to an end. Sustenance.” Confused looks spread across all their faces at the utterance of that last word. “Yes, you see, God is not the only of his kind. He is a special breed though. He was the first of their race born of seemingly nothing. His peoples’ method of reproduction is very similar to your own. You are created in His image after all!” A sly grin spreads across Lucifer’s face as he utters a small, guttural laugh. “He May be The Creator, but he sure isn’t very creative. Most of your reality was created in replica to his own. A few changes here and there to fit his liking and ta-da! Anyway, He has created humans as a food source. Most of his kind do not need energy to maintain their existence. God was the first one born with the need to consume and consume he did. Do you really think all of existence came from nothing with a flick of his hand? The Big Bang required immense energy to create and maintain long enough to stabilize. He devoured every single one of his own people for the power to do this.”
“God is still hungry, but his appetite has changed. He will only eat the pure. The ones who disobey his law, who put up resistance, are not satisfying anymore. So, all I ask is that each and every one of you sin. Sin like there’s no tomorrow! RAPE, LOOT, MURDER!!! GET YOUR KICKS! BECOME SO VILE THAT THE VERY STENCH OF YOUR SOUL WILL RID THE LORD OF HUNGER!” At that, Lucifer calmly walks out of the meeting, that grin never having left his immaculate face. The Morning Star sinks below the horizon, back down to the fiery depths, waiting in anticipation for his new toys to torture. | |
[WP] 10 years after the initial zombie outbreak, zombies start to die off due to increased rotting and humanity is left to slowly rebuild. | Attention.
That’s what makes the difference between life and death.(or something like it.)
It was so easy before, walking around, hoodie up, tunes blaring on the earbuds, eyes glued to the whatever on our little magic devices, never imagining that life does not abide an inattentive fool.
But a whole population of inattentive fools? That requires an Event. A catalytic force to awaken the attention, and nothing awakens the senses like the fear of being eaten alive.
Our resident doctor, Doc Mellish, or just Doc to his friends, kept a meticulous record of zeds spotted and downed each day, people lost each day, supplies, meetings, and anything else that kept him from sinking into depression and climbing back into a bottle.
“Zero!” He exclaimed as he strode into the mess hall, holding his red annual ledger on high for all to see. Though at 12:15 am, only I and the two others who drew AM watch duty could squint at the chicken-scratch writing and ask the Doc what the hell he was on about.
Doc wiped a tear from his exalted face. “Zero zombies spotted, Zero! Look!” He pointed with glee at the empty circle in his daily log next to *Z Spotted:* “It’s it! It’s the day we’ve been waiting for!”
True, I had noticed the moans growing fainter, less cacophonous over the last few months. Doc showed us a hand-drawn graph in a notebook in his breast pocket. An upside down hockey stick, labeled *Z Spotted*.
Could it be true? Is today the day we start to build again? Not just to survive, but to really live? What will it be like? How will we behave? How will we correct the sins that led to the outbreak? My heart leapt into my throat. Maybe this time we can teach our children to act like their lives depend on it. We can. Now we know.
A sound of chains rattling somewhere in the dark, near the perimeter fence made us all freeze. Listen. Look. A moan, faint, but distinctive. Unmistakeable. Zed.
Douse the lamp. Get your weapon.
Tomorrow we build.
For now, pay attention. | The smell is long gone. Their flesh barely functions. They can't even raise an arm to claw at me. But the noises. The noises still carry on. With the nights in the north still dipping near freezing, they don't really rot. They just desiccate in the sun.
I wonder why they still are able to make the sounds. They can't move, but the sounds stay. There's no reason any more to put them down unless they can move. Almost none can. But the sound. The sounds of unused breath. They last the whole night. I hear the loons. The loons used to make a haunting sound in the summer, but now they sound like comfort.
The sounds of breath. The sounds like someone trying to signal as if they could be helped. It eats at me.
In the end, we must wait. Eventually it will stop. We have to become pragmatic. We will fire up the machines, we will till the bodies under.
From them, new life will be nurtured. The crops will grow.
Just another step. Another step until they come back.
| |
[WP] Your hand trembles as you finish drawing the circle in lamb's blood. Deep breaths. Anyone could catch a demon or an imp, but now things are serious. You're about to summon an angel. | I was so hungover. I don't remember getting hangovers when I started drinking, but here they were now. It almost made me want to stop drinking. Almost.
Aneyli sat two rows in front of me, the sun reflecting off her golden hair beneath her graduation cap, almost like her hair was the sun itself. She was hungover too, her face in her hands in regret or maybe in exhaustion. Probably both. We were both paying overtime for that party. She sat upright and turned around to look at me.
I purposely widened my eyes and filled them with green, a trick I had learned my first year at the Wyse Wyvern Tavern to make me look extra shocked. She smiled and then laughed and then rubbed her temples. She flashed her own eyes red and closed them, to signal that she wanted to talk to me. I heard her voice in my head.
"Don't make me laugh, jerk. It makes my head hurt." Her eyes unfilled.
I filled my own eyes and closed them.
"Fuck you. If I suffer, you suffer too." I opened them to look ahead at her.
She was turned around but her middle finger was up. This is how we used what we learned these last four years, to talk shit to each other during graduation. Talk about tuition regret.
Her row stood up and lined up beside the stage. Most of the students from old families wore ancient gowns with intricate crests sewn into them. Aneyli's family's crest was a faceless demon holding the sun in one hand and the moon in the other. The Garsons were experts at summoning small Hell nymphs, imps and other mischievous creatures to do their bidding. It's part of why their family was so wealthy. And 100% why we had classes in "Garson" Hall all of first year. Donations go a long way.
I loved Aneyli's family (that rhymes!) almost as much as I loved her myself. When the Provost called her name, I couldn't help but toss up a firecracker spell. I could see her beaming all the way from my seat, her golden tresses lightly bobbing with the wind. I could almost hear the gentle bell-chiming of her voice above the applause as she shook the Provost's hand and mouthed, "Thank you." She somehow made a graduation frock look like an evening gown. Was it her walk? Was it her smile? How could she be so completely grounded and kind while being so smart and beautiful?
Maybe I was blinded by love. Maybe. But if this was blindness, I never wanted to see again.
-------
I woke up. The sun was in my eyes. *Fuck you, light-bearer,* I thought. The sun didn't reply.
I scratched my unshaven cheek. I hadn't shaved in years. I couldn't even grow a full beard until, what? two, three? years after college. Why would I need to shave anyway? Who was I trying to impress anymore?
You know how sometimes you drink all night and the next morning your breath doesn't smell at all? This wasn't one of those mornings. I don't think it was even technically morning anymore, and my breath smelled like dragon piss. I didn't bother cleaning. I went right over to my desk and continued my notes.
The book was an old manuscript from the old library...somewhere. Fuck if I remembered. I spent three years gathering books from ancient libraries. I mean, chests cost a lot of money. And I had a lot of chests. That's why I live in a studio dungeon.
If I'm so poor, why am I writing with an Everlong Quill, you ask? Well, it was a gift. From Aneyli. I didn't have many gifts left from her, just the quill, a formal robe that people kept complimenting me on, and a ladle that changed shape at my command. The quill and the ladle were too practical to sell. And when I could afford a new formal robe, I'd donate the one she gave me, maybe. No traces. No traces. No traces.
Only when I got rid of all her stuff could I forget about her. I had done so well that first year. I sold all the chests she bought me, all the books and even my baby Kraken, Radar. I didn't want to think about her anymore. I didn't want to think about her smile, how it lit up a room figuratively and literally sometimes when she would walk in and see how all my candles were dying without my noticing. I didn't want to think about her polite laugh, and how when I made fun of it, it made her true laugh come out, which was high-pitched and included more than a few squeals and snorts, which made me laugh, which made her laugh even harder. Even thinking about her makes me run on.
But I found that getting rid of her stuff didn't make me forget her, because she had imprinted herself into my habits as well. When I summoned water from air, a child's spell, I stopped doing it with my right hand. I did it with my left hand so my right hand could write or do another spell. I never thought of that until she came along. When I put on formal robes, I put on trousers first now because she told me that if I put on the robe first, it would wrinkle when my trousers were coming up. Small habits. Small, stupid, fucking habits that reminded me of her.
Why did she have to go?
I stopped writing and thought about that last time I saw her.
Mrs. Garson, probably the most powerful Summoner of our time, sat crying, Aneyli's head and hair resting on her mother's lap. Mrs. Garson cradled her daughter's cranium and rocked back and forth sobbing. Aneyli had been dead for hours, her body cold, her head now back where it came from, in the arms of the one who bore her. Mrs. Garson's sobs interrupted a soft lullaby she was humming. Her only daughter.
The love of my life.
And so I had set out to research how to bring her back.
I tried to forget her, but I couldn't. It plagued me for years, each day. I began to feel numb to the sadness, but it was the thoughts of her that haunted me, like she was always there in the recesses of my mind.
So I gave up. I didn't try to sell the quill, the robe nor the ladle. I gave up trying to forget her and I did the only thing that made sense to me. She left me purposeless. My purpose was always her. So now that she was gone, why did that have to end?
She would come back. I would see to it.
---
That night, by the dimly lit candle on my desk, I finally opened the last summoning book I found. I was not a great summoner like the Garson family, but I could bring out small critters and the like. No demons nor imps. Definitely never an angel. But I was a great technical spellcaster. If I had directions and background information on a spell, I could do it.
And all the research I had done led to this book. To summon an angel, you had to follow the last page on this book. It was time-sensitive and precise. You could only do it once. It knew somehow. Probably took some of your blood. I don't know, but I was going to get it right. I had done all the research, gathered all the books, memorized all the steps to all the obscure summonings to prepare. I would see Aneyli again, my love, my sunfire-haired angel.
I opened the book.
The list of ingredients was extensive, but I had everything. When I reached the last page, there was only one line:
GATHER THE LAMB'S BLOOD.
I got my vial out, confused, and sat it next to the book. Then, as if the book knew what I did, the next direction appeared.
INCISE A SMALL CROSS UPON YOUR LEFT PALM. BLOOD MUST SHED LIGHTLY.
I took out my knife and cut a small cross onto my palm. The book again knew what transpired and the next direction appeared in it. I was one step closer to bringing my love back. Beads of sweat began to form around my temples.
MIX THE LAMB'S BLOOD UPON YOUR PALM'S BLOOD AND ENCLOSE IT IN YOUR FIST.
With one hand, I popped the top of the vial of lamb's blood and poured it onto the blood in my left palm. The next directions were much more complicated, but they came almost immediately after I completed each one, indicating that I was doing it right.
Then, after the eleventh step showed up, I froze.
THE NAME OF THE SUMMONED; THE NAME OF THE SUMMONER; THE NAME OF THE SACRIFICE
Did this mean I had to have another person to sacrifice? But I was alone. I...I didn't know what to do, and I had to think quickly because summoning spells are notoriously time-sensitive. So I did the only thing I thought I could do.
With my mixture of blood, I wrote into the book Aneyli; my name; and my name again.
The blood and directions all faded into the book.
I felt her hand on my shoulder exactly the same time I smelled her. I whipped my head around and stood up.
Her hair, her eyes, her smile were so radiant that I broke down. I fell to my knees and cried into her robe.
"Shh," she cooed, running her hand through my hair. "You did it, my love. Thank you. Shh."
I had missed her so much. I had spent so much time trying to forget her memory, that I had forgotten her scent, how it intoxicated me and overwhelmed me. It filled me, and my body could do nothing but collapse at her feet as tears broke through the dams of my closed eyes.
Then she took my knife, cut open my neck and drank.
"I love you," she whispered softly into my ear. "I love you, and I will never forget you." | Anna drew a final arc across the floor with her blood-stained fingers. The rite hadn't truly begun, and yet already an intense energy was surged within her. Like the candlelight, it shifted to and fro, searching for a way to escape.
But she knew that haste would be her downfall, so she double- and triple-checked the grimoire. Tracking down an original was no easy task. So few of the ancient texts existed, and their numbers could only shrink. But no, she had followed it to the glyph. She spoke the ancient words and summoned the angel.
A brilliant fiery light erupted from the summoning circle. The angel's immense power was unrestrained, and the room rapidly erupted in flames. Hardly a second later, the angel released a powerful pulse of light and heat which launched it towards the heavens. The three-story mansion was reduced to burning cinders in its wake. Anna was no more. | |
[WP] Your hand trembles as you finish drawing the circle in lamb's blood. Deep breaths. Anyone could catch a demon or an imp, but now things are serious. You're about to summon an angel. | The art of summoning and binding had been built upon breaking taboos and disregarding warnings, but one rule was always honored: *never* summon an angel. I’d made deals with Mephistopheles, summoned servants of Beelzebub, bound countless imps and spirits to my name, but still my hands trembled as I completed the reversed circle. It was suicide at best, but I didn’t have a choice.
A lamb’s blood instead of a goat’s, a prayer instead of a deal, seven seals pointing outwards instead of the usual six aimed inwards, it was against everything I had been taught. My mind screamed to turn back, but the way the door shook and the growls behind it pushed me forward. There was only one part left: the name. And if I had to meet my end here, I wouldn’t be undone by some pawn.
“Keeper of the Unknown, Archangel of Mysteries, Secret of God, arise and hear my voice.” My voice broke. “To this world I summon you and humbly beg for your protection. Hear me.” This was it. Now or never.
*“Raziel!”*
There was light, nothing but blinding light that burned my eyes, my skin, my very mind with its divine intensity. The world turned into a broken kaleidoscope of colours that faded away just as fast as they appeared. White feathers fluttered in the air, heralding the arrival of something that should never have touched this earth, something that could easily incinerate this entire town if it weren’t for the seven seals. They had no hope of binding the creature, but could be used as wards.
“You are a bold one,” spoke a melodious voice in a hundred different languages. It could belong neither to a man or a woman. The voice laughed with a melody of strange instruments. “Have you come to repent?”
I was used to rage, to the ones I summon thrashing at the circle with all their might, but the angel did nothing of the sort. It simply stood in the centre, surrounded by a tiny storm of feathers and pages. The creature was tall enough to reach the roof, looming over me, slender, cloaked. It clutched a book to its chest, shielding it with its first pair of wings. The second one—made of pages of paper rather than feathers—was enormous, spreading from one wall to the other. My blood ran cold as I realized it was reaching outside the circle.
“Why do you fear?” it asked. “You knew what you were doing.”
“I-I want you to save me,” I stammered.
“From what?”
“The creature behind that door. I’ve summoned something I can’t control.” The claws, the eyes, the way it contorted its own body… I shuddered. Even remembering it was dreadful. “Its weakened for now, but that won’t last.”
“And you expect me to destroy that thing for you?” Raziel laughed again. “Or did you hope I would simply tell you its name, give you a means to bind it?”
The door shook and groaned from a particularly vicious hit. There wasn’t much time. “Whatever it takes, just destroy it.” Sweat streamed down my forehead. “I want to live.”
“So shortsighted.” A gentle sound of vibrating glass resounded in the room. It must have been a sigh. “Shouldn’t you be begging for your soul? Instead you cling onto this feeble vessel just because the unknown scares you more than anything, just because you can’t plunge into the void and brave its depths with your mind, just because you don’t want to face judgment for your deeds.”
Raziel took a step forward. The lamb’s blood parted beneath its feet, not daring to touch the alabaster skin, leaving only smudges in place of the intricate circle. The hood of its cloak fell backwards, revealing a face so beautiful I couldn’t look away.
“Fine, if you do not wish to pray or ask for forgiveness,” Raziel continued, “let us do this your way.” The angel extended its long arm and placed its hand on my cheek. “What can you offer me in exchange?”
“Anything,” I said before even realizing it.
“Not good enough.” The golden eyes bore into me with its gaze, causing whispers to echo in my mind, whispers of things not even the most ancient tome or manuscript could contain. “Try again.”
“Everything,” I whispered.
The angel’s perfect face shone with a smile. “I accept your deal.”
Holding me firmly with its left hand, Raziel opened its book and began reading aloud. Time lost meaning. Everything did. The angel’s paper wings separated into a whirlwind of pages that surrounded me. It spoke with a thousand voices in infinite languages. It told me the answer to every question I’d ever had, then taught me how to ask and answer a million more. At some point in that infinite instant I began forgetting. I forgot my name. I forgot the faces of people I’d known, all of them. I forgot what it felt like to eat, to sleep, to live. At the edges of my vision I could see my hands whitening, wrinkling, turning into… paper?
As the wind swept me away, I no longer feared death, the unknown, or His judgment. I was neither alive nor dead, neither man nor woman. I was knowledge, another mystery held by the Secret of God within its wings. When the monstrous creature had finally burst through the thick wooden door, I watched with indifference as Raziel passed a hand over it, leaving only a smudge of red on the stone floor. Together we walked out of the house and into the dark street. Raziel laughed.
“Making deals is not so bad.” | Anna drew a final arc across the floor with her blood-stained fingers. The rite hadn't truly begun, and yet already an intense energy was surged within her. Like the candlelight, it shifted to and fro, searching for a way to escape.
But she knew that haste would be her downfall, so she double- and triple-checked the grimoire. Tracking down an original was no easy task. So few of the ancient texts existed, and their numbers could only shrink. But no, she had followed it to the glyph. She spoke the ancient words and summoned the angel.
A brilliant fiery light erupted from the summoning circle. The angel's immense power was unrestrained, and the room rapidly erupted in flames. Hardly a second later, the angel released a powerful pulse of light and heat which launched it towards the heavens. The three-story mansion was reduced to burning cinders in its wake. Anna was no more. | |
[WP] Your hand trembles as you finish drawing the circle in lamb's blood. Deep breaths. Anyone could catch a demon or an imp, but now things are serious. You're about to summon an angel. | The art of summoning and binding had been built upon breaking taboos and disregarding warnings, but one rule was always honored: *never* summon an angel. I’d made deals with Mephistopheles, summoned servants of Beelzebub, bound countless imps and spirits to my name, but still my hands trembled as I completed the reversed circle. It was suicide at best, but I didn’t have a choice.
A lamb’s blood instead of a goat’s, a prayer instead of a deal, seven seals pointing outwards instead of the usual six aimed inwards, it was against everything I had been taught. My mind screamed to turn back, but the way the door shook and the growls behind it pushed me forward. There was only one part left: the name. And if I had to meet my end here, I wouldn’t be undone by some pawn.
“Keeper of the Unknown, Archangel of Mysteries, Secret of God, arise and hear my voice.” My voice broke. “To this world I summon you and humbly beg for your protection. Hear me.” This was it. Now or never.
*“Raziel!”*
There was light, nothing but blinding light that burned my eyes, my skin, my very mind with its divine intensity. The world turned into a broken kaleidoscope of colours that faded away just as fast as they appeared. White feathers fluttered in the air, heralding the arrival of something that should never have touched this earth, something that could easily incinerate this entire town if it weren’t for the seven seals. They had no hope of binding the creature, but could be used as wards.
“You are a bold one,” spoke a melodious voice in a hundred different languages. It could belong neither to a man or a woman. The voice laughed with a melody of strange instruments. “Have you come to repent?”
I was used to rage, to the ones I summon thrashing at the circle with all their might, but the angel did nothing of the sort. It simply stood in the centre, surrounded by a tiny storm of feathers and pages. The creature was tall enough to reach the roof, looming over me, slender, cloaked. It clutched a book to its chest, shielding it with its first pair of wings. The second one—made of pages of paper rather than feathers—was enormous, spreading from one wall to the other. My blood ran cold as I realized it was reaching outside the circle.
“Why do you fear?” it asked. “You knew what you were doing.”
“I-I want you to save me,” I stammered.
“From what?”
“The creature behind that door. I’ve summoned something I can’t control.” The claws, the eyes, the way it contorted its own body… I shuddered. Even remembering it was dreadful. “Its weakened for now, but that won’t last.”
“And you expect me to destroy that thing for you?” Raziel laughed again. “Or did you hope I would simply tell you its name, give you a means to bind it?”
The door shook and groaned from a particularly vicious hit. There wasn’t much time. “Whatever it takes, just destroy it.” Sweat streamed down my forehead. “I want to live.”
“So shortsighted.” A gentle sound of vibrating glass resounded in the room. It must have been a sigh. “Shouldn’t you be begging for your soul? Instead you cling onto this feeble vessel just because the unknown scares you more than anything, just because you can’t plunge into the void and brave its depths with your mind, just because you don’t want to face judgment for your deeds.”
Raziel took a step forward. The lamb’s blood parted beneath its feet, not daring to touch the alabaster skin, leaving only smudges in place of the intricate circle. The hood of its cloak fell backwards, revealing a face so beautiful I couldn’t look away.
“Fine, if you do not wish to pray or ask for forgiveness,” Raziel continued, “let us do this your way.” The angel extended its long arm and placed its hand on my cheek. “What can you offer me in exchange?”
“Anything,” I said before even realizing it.
“Not good enough.” The golden eyes bore into me with its gaze, causing whispers to echo in my mind, whispers of things not even the most ancient tome or manuscript could contain. “Try again.”
“Everything,” I whispered.
The angel’s perfect face shone with a smile. “I accept your deal.”
Holding me firmly with its left hand, Raziel opened its book and began reading aloud. Time lost meaning. Everything did. The angel’s paper wings separated into a whirlwind of pages that surrounded me. It spoke with a thousand voices in infinite languages. It told me the answer to every question I’d ever had, then taught me how to ask and answer a million more. At some point in that infinite instant I began forgetting. I forgot my name. I forgot the faces of people I’d known, all of them. I forgot what it felt like to eat, to sleep, to live. At the edges of my vision I could see my hands whitening, wrinkling, turning into… paper?
As the wind swept me away, I no longer feared death, the unknown, or His judgment. I was neither alive nor dead, neither man nor woman. I was knowledge, another mystery held by the Secret of God within its wings. When the monstrous creature had finally burst through the thick wooden door, I watched with indifference as Raziel passed a hand over it, leaving only a smudge of red on the stone floor. Together we walked out of the house and into the dark street. Raziel laughed.
“Making deals is not so bad.” | I was so hungover. I don't remember getting hangovers when I started drinking, but here they were now. It almost made me want to stop drinking. Almost.
Aneyli sat two rows in front of me, the sun reflecting off her golden hair beneath her graduation cap, almost like her hair was the sun itself. She was hungover too, her face in her hands in regret or maybe in exhaustion. Probably both. We were both paying overtime for that party. She sat upright and turned around to look at me.
I purposely widened my eyes and filled them with green, a trick I had learned my first year at the Wyse Wyvern Tavern to make me look extra shocked. She smiled and then laughed and then rubbed her temples. She flashed her own eyes red and closed them, to signal that she wanted to talk to me. I heard her voice in my head.
"Don't make me laugh, jerk. It makes my head hurt." Her eyes unfilled.
I filled my own eyes and closed them.
"Fuck you. If I suffer, you suffer too." I opened them to look ahead at her.
She was turned around but her middle finger was up. This is how we used what we learned these last four years, to talk shit to each other during graduation. Talk about tuition regret.
Her row stood up and lined up beside the stage. Most of the students from old families wore ancient gowns with intricate crests sewn into them. Aneyli's family's crest was a faceless demon holding the sun in one hand and the moon in the other. The Garsons were experts at summoning small Hell nymphs, imps and other mischievous creatures to do their bidding. It's part of why their family was so wealthy. And 100% why we had classes in "Garson" Hall all of first year. Donations go a long way.
I loved Aneyli's family (that rhymes!) almost as much as I loved her myself. When the Provost called her name, I couldn't help but toss up a firecracker spell. I could see her beaming all the way from my seat, her golden tresses lightly bobbing with the wind. I could almost hear the gentle bell-chiming of her voice above the applause as she shook the Provost's hand and mouthed, "Thank you." She somehow made a graduation frock look like an evening gown. Was it her walk? Was it her smile? How could she be so completely grounded and kind while being so smart and beautiful?
Maybe I was blinded by love. Maybe. But if this was blindness, I never wanted to see again.
-------
I woke up. The sun was in my eyes. *Fuck you, light-bearer,* I thought. The sun didn't reply.
I scratched my unshaven cheek. I hadn't shaved in years. I couldn't even grow a full beard until, what? two, three? years after college. Why would I need to shave anyway? Who was I trying to impress anymore?
You know how sometimes you drink all night and the next morning your breath doesn't smell at all? This wasn't one of those mornings. I don't think it was even technically morning anymore, and my breath smelled like dragon piss. I didn't bother cleaning. I went right over to my desk and continued my notes.
The book was an old manuscript from the old library...somewhere. Fuck if I remembered. I spent three years gathering books from ancient libraries. I mean, chests cost a lot of money. And I had a lot of chests. That's why I live in a studio dungeon.
If I'm so poor, why am I writing with an Everlong Quill, you ask? Well, it was a gift. From Aneyli. I didn't have many gifts left from her, just the quill, a formal robe that people kept complimenting me on, and a ladle that changed shape at my command. The quill and the ladle were too practical to sell. And when I could afford a new formal robe, I'd donate the one she gave me, maybe. No traces. No traces. No traces.
Only when I got rid of all her stuff could I forget about her. I had done so well that first year. I sold all the chests she bought me, all the books and even my baby Kraken, Radar. I didn't want to think about her anymore. I didn't want to think about her smile, how it lit up a room figuratively and literally sometimes when she would walk in and see how all my candles were dying without my noticing. I didn't want to think about her polite laugh, and how when I made fun of it, it made her true laugh come out, which was high-pitched and included more than a few squeals and snorts, which made me laugh, which made her laugh even harder. Even thinking about her makes me run on.
But I found that getting rid of her stuff didn't make me forget her, because she had imprinted herself into my habits as well. When I summoned water from air, a child's spell, I stopped doing it with my right hand. I did it with my left hand so my right hand could write or do another spell. I never thought of that until she came along. When I put on formal robes, I put on trousers first now because she told me that if I put on the robe first, it would wrinkle when my trousers were coming up. Small habits. Small, stupid, fucking habits that reminded me of her.
Why did she have to go?
I stopped writing and thought about that last time I saw her.
Mrs. Garson, probably the most powerful Summoner of our time, sat crying, Aneyli's head and hair resting on her mother's lap. Mrs. Garson cradled her daughter's cranium and rocked back and forth sobbing. Aneyli had been dead for hours, her body cold, her head now back where it came from, in the arms of the one who bore her. Mrs. Garson's sobs interrupted a soft lullaby she was humming. Her only daughter.
The love of my life.
And so I had set out to research how to bring her back.
I tried to forget her, but I couldn't. It plagued me for years, each day. I began to feel numb to the sadness, but it was the thoughts of her that haunted me, like she was always there in the recesses of my mind.
So I gave up. I didn't try to sell the quill, the robe nor the ladle. I gave up trying to forget her and I did the only thing that made sense to me. She left me purposeless. My purpose was always her. So now that she was gone, why did that have to end?
She would come back. I would see to it.
---
That night, by the dimly lit candle on my desk, I finally opened the last summoning book I found. I was not a great summoner like the Garson family, but I could bring out small critters and the like. No demons nor imps. Definitely never an angel. But I was a great technical spellcaster. If I had directions and background information on a spell, I could do it.
And all the research I had done led to this book. To summon an angel, you had to follow the last page on this book. It was time-sensitive and precise. You could only do it once. It knew somehow. Probably took some of your blood. I don't know, but I was going to get it right. I had done all the research, gathered all the books, memorized all the steps to all the obscure summonings to prepare. I would see Aneyli again, my love, my sunfire-haired angel.
I opened the book.
The list of ingredients was extensive, but I had everything. When I reached the last page, there was only one line:
GATHER THE LAMB'S BLOOD.
I got my vial out, confused, and sat it next to the book. Then, as if the book knew what I did, the next direction appeared.
INCISE A SMALL CROSS UPON YOUR LEFT PALM. BLOOD MUST SHED LIGHTLY.
I took out my knife and cut a small cross onto my palm. The book again knew what transpired and the next direction appeared in it. I was one step closer to bringing my love back. Beads of sweat began to form around my temples.
MIX THE LAMB'S BLOOD UPON YOUR PALM'S BLOOD AND ENCLOSE IT IN YOUR FIST.
With one hand, I popped the top of the vial of lamb's blood and poured it onto the blood in my left palm. The next directions were much more complicated, but they came almost immediately after I completed each one, indicating that I was doing it right.
Then, after the eleventh step showed up, I froze.
THE NAME OF THE SUMMONED; THE NAME OF THE SUMMONER; THE NAME OF THE SACRIFICE
Did this mean I had to have another person to sacrifice? But I was alone. I...I didn't know what to do, and I had to think quickly because summoning spells are notoriously time-sensitive. So I did the only thing I thought I could do.
With my mixture of blood, I wrote into the book Aneyli; my name; and my name again.
The blood and directions all faded into the book.
I felt her hand on my shoulder exactly the same time I smelled her. I whipped my head around and stood up.
Her hair, her eyes, her smile were so radiant that I broke down. I fell to my knees and cried into her robe.
"Shh," she cooed, running her hand through my hair. "You did it, my love. Thank you. Shh."
I had missed her so much. I had spent so much time trying to forget her memory, that I had forgotten her scent, how it intoxicated me and overwhelmed me. It filled me, and my body could do nothing but collapse at her feet as tears broke through the dams of my closed eyes.
Then she took my knife, cut open my neck and drank.
"I love you," she whispered softly into my ear. "I love you, and I will never forget you." | |
[WP] A forest spirit resented and fought humanity when it built train tracks and towns throughout its land. The rails long abandoned and the towns reclaimed by nature, it now misses the noise and chaos of humans. | People were surprised when a train station was opened at the La Mesa Watershed. Why the Watershed? It was out of the way and out of the city. The only rationale that occurred to anyone was that it really did significantly cut travel time between Quezon City in Manila, and Norzagaray in Bulacan.
Plus, the station was located at an area of the watershed that had been restricted from as far back as anyone could remember. Most of the watershed has been open to the public as a nature park, but not that part. Everyone just presumed it was a nature reserve, where endangered flora and fauna were raised, so it made sense that tourists were not allowed inside.
Every station is run by different Sinauna-affiliated entities: everyone knows this. But no one knew a thing about the "La Mesa Founders, Inc." who apparently sponsored the Watershed station. What was the nature of their business? What products did they sell? Nobody knew.
And there was absolutely no announcement about the building. People woke up one day and poof - an announcement on their news feeds that a new Sinauna station was opening at the Watershed.
As one of my friends goes home to Norzagaray on long weekends, a few other friends and I decided to tag along to see this new route.
From Fairview station, you enter a pitch black underground tunnel to get to the Watershed station. That was strange enough, but we soon learned that getting out of it was even stranger.
Once we were aboveground, it dawned on us that we were on a very different train. All the seats were made of tree branches and vines, some with a couple of leaves and clods of dirt still on them. One of my friends was wearing shorts and got a butt splinter.
I don't know how the train looks like from the outside, but I imagine it looks the same as it does from the inside - like a kid saw a train once and tried to make a shoddy copy using mud, twigs and twine.
What made the ride barely tolerable was the shaking. The rails were in horrible shape - a quick look out the window showed that they were covered in moss and earth, and made of rotting wood and rusty steel. How old WERE those tracks? It's a wonder any train could run on them to begin with.
Worse, we were not alone. There were ghosts in the train with us, or what sure looked like ghosts. They were made of white smoke, like what you'd usually find in the middle of a fog, although there was no fog.
Mostly they were wearing old-style clothes, I mean REALLY old - *barong tagalog* and *baro't saya* kind of old.
They chatted with each other soundlessly, their hands wildly gesturing. They must have been really loud on this train when they were still around, but white smoke shadows are all that's left of them now.
And they were pretty harmless. You wouldn't know if there was a ghost in your seat until you got up to take a look. It was just creepy. And, if you ask me, sort of impolite.
Most clear among the ghosts in the car was a young woman in a simple white *terno,* but wearing a colorful *panuelo* and *tapis*. I don't know why she was the most vivid one, although the bright color of her clothes might just have made her stand out. She was usually on her feet, and she looked out the windows often, placing her palms against the glass. Unlike the other ghosts, her facial expression was actually visible, and she looked worried.
Other people have reported that this young woman is on every car. Someone actually claimed she talked to them and told them "the forest is angry." But she seemed like she wasn't even aware that my friends and I were there, so I don't believe it.
The shaky ride seemed to affect the ghosts, as well. They occasionally held on to some part of the train, or to each other.
This led me and my friends to imagine all sorts of scenarios. We discussed them openly during our ride, confident that the ghosts wouldn't hear. Perhaps the train was already in bad shape a long time ago, which was why the train stopped its operations in the first place.
Or maybe it was just in bad shape while it was passing through the Watershed? Maybe the spirit of the forest really WAS angry at the old passengers, and is still angry at us now...?
The train stopped at the Watershed station. There was apparently a rundown, extremely old shed there - and apparently, La Mesa Founders, Inc. couldn't be bothered to fix it up, either. Some of the ghosts got off. Some new ghosts got on. The young lady in the colorful *panuelo* and *tapis* stayed, peering out the windows all the while.
Long story short: you have ghosts and butt splinters and a bumpy ride all throughout the 15 minutes the train passes through the La Mesa Watershed. And then it enters another tunnel and emerges in Norzagaray, and you get back your smoothly running, normal modern train. All of a sudden no shaky rides, no panicked ghosts, and no splinters. Still some itching, though.
There have been a couple of complaints officially filed about this wood train already, but they've been ignored. There was only a lukewarm "Station management has been informed and will take due steps to resolve the issue" blanket response, but no actual game plan, no timeline.
Here's my takeaway from the experience: the Sinauna Group needs to be careful with the entities they get to build their stations. Some of them may have some experience with trains, but don't know the first thing about running them.
===
Writer's note: I'm actually making a collection of stories about supernatural Philippine transportation methods, check them out [here] (https://www.wattpad.com/story/31908750-reasons-to-hate-the-commute). I haven't updated this collection in a long time because I haven't found the inspiration...so many thanks for this prompt, OP! | Some of the voices, I managed to reach some of the voices.
Some of the voices heard my pleas and cries. Those who heard took up my call and spoke loudly, "We must defend her, if not now, there will be no Earth for your children to inhabit!"
The weight of the machines, crafted from iron ripped from my veins and used to further abuse me. The life that came before them destroyed again that the voices may spread their tendrils further.
I held bounties untold, but to claim them was to be patient and gentle, things the voices are contrary to.
My burden is steady and ever present, I hold the living, the dead, and that which supports both. My firmament provides the air they breathe, my depths
the source of the blood in their very hearts. I give them everything I am, but it is not enough.
"More, more, more," they chant.
That I would not give willingly, is forced from my grasp. My beauty discarded, my mountains profaned, my creatures tormented.
They were warned, over and over, the voices. Some for fought for what is mine, others for what I am.
They fight and fight, to silence the voices different from there own, the sounds of progress.
The sounds of their conquest.
With a flash and a crack, I have outlived the voices.
The sounds of them have ceased.
I burn.
-----
I burn no more.
The sounds of them are absent.
With a flash and a crack, I spark the beginning anew.
The sounds of their growth.
They fight and fight, to make their voices heard as their own, learning what I am.
I give willingly and guide them with my grasp, my beauty encouraging, my mountains their refuge, my creatures their companions.
"More, more, more," the voices chant.
My burden is steady and ever present, I hold the living, the dead, and that which supports both. My firmament provides the air they breathe, my depths the source of the blood in their very hearts. I give them everything I am, but it is not enough.
I hold bounties untold, and to claim them they have been patient and gentle. Things the voices understand.
The weight of their machines, crafted from the iron gathered gently from my veins, is used to cultivate me. The life that came before them, destroyed. The voices spread their influence further.
Some of the voices cry out, and speak loudly, "We will defend her, she has provided for us, the Earth is for our children to inhabit!"
Some of the voices, I managed to reach some of the voices.
| |
[WP] You've worked on the CRISPR project for years, and your young daughter is dying of a genetic anomaly. You secretly cure her using a snippet of DNA from an exotic animal. Twenty years later, her young twins develop some interesting traits. | So I accidentally made a pair of psychics.
My daughter was suffering from a rare genetic illness, Dying in her bed in incredible pain. I worked for weeks and weeks and weeks, little sleep, little food. I lost 40 lbs.
But I did it, I designed a protein that corrected for her neurological disorder. I designed a system of delivery for full body gene therapy. I temporarily gave her immunosuppressants. I applied the treatment secretly. And she recovered, and improved. Became smarter than she was before.
Lived a good life, got a good job, found a good man.
Then came her kids. I was surprised her identical twins got a functional copy of my modification. And then as they grew up, something was wrong.
Well, not wrong, not really. Just abnormal. One would feel the other’s pain. They would appear to know what they were each thinking. And as they grew up and gained command of language and thought, they realised what they had. At 14 they both won Randi’s million dollar prize. But they didn’t set themselves up as stage magicians. But as a psychologist and neuroscientist. Understanding what they had. They became icons of the transhuman. They represented a future for the evolution of the human race. And then they made it real. They isolated my protein, they worked out how to expand it, and give t to others. Regardless of biological relationship.
And then, came the collective. A group of posthumans. Psychics, biohackers and all other interested groups.
And they changed the world, encouraged the ultimate form of empathy and compassion. Encouraged transcendence of traditional limitations.
I lie here, surviving only on the technology that they created. And I’m happy. Happy with what they did. And even if their technology cannot save me. It may save many others. I am honestly proud of the world they, and I suppose I, created. | "Dr. Reynolds, your daughter will see you now." The nurse said, her voice sounding strained.
"Oh thank God! Twins, right? Being a grandpa to not one..but two! Can you imagine?!" My excitement was visceral, but the nurse merely nodded.
"Yes... its.. ummm. A miracle. Congratulations." She said bluntly, quickly pointing to a door and walking off.
I opened it and immediately saw my daughter, Meghan, lying in her hospital gown holding two small infants in her arms.
"Daddy, come meet your two new grandaughters." Meghan mumbled as I edged closer.
I was smiling ear to ear and pulled the blankets back to reveal something that froze me in fear.
Oh god.. I knew what had happened immediately, why they looked like this. Why their hair was so thick, their ears so pointy, the canine teeth hanging over their pouty lips, the webbed feet, the striped tails.. Someone else would figure it out. I could lose my license. Hell, I could go to jail. They were hideous. Monsters.
I looked up at Meghan, wanting to apologize, to explain that I was only trying to save her life, that if I would have known...
She smiled. "It's ok, dad. I know all about the CRISPR project you worked on. It doesn't matter. They're beautiful, perfect. They are mine."
Tears filled my eyes as I once more stared at my grandchildren and ran my fingers through their shaggy hair.
"They are perfect, aren't they?" | |
[WP] You are a killer hiding in a woman's closet at night, waiting for the right moment to strike. You see her finally get into her bed and presumably fall asleep. Just as you're about to make a move, you feel warm breath hit the back of your neck. | "Oh- are you here to..."
"Yeah... you too?"
"Yeah"
Well shit.
You stalk and find a target finally, put on your mask, hide in the closet, and it turns out there was another guy with the same idea, albeit under the bed.
"Aw fuck, is there like a dibs rule?"
"I mean, I've been following her for months."
Months! Hah!
"I've been following her for a year! Look:"
I show him the picture I took a year ago today. That was my thing, The Picture Killer: For every month this year, I'd taken a picture of my target the year before. Thankfully, none of them had died yet.
"Oh, you're the picture killer? I'm a huge fan"
Well, not meaning to brag, but I was quite the large fish in the killer community.
"Who're you?"
"Oh..."
He looked pensive, or well, as pensive as a 6' 7'' man can look in overalls and a mask.
"I'm just starting. Was hoping the press would name me, y'know?"
Rookie mistake.
"Noone gets a reputation like that, man! You need a theme, a brand! Make it big!"
"Yeah... yeah!"
He was nodding.
"What if I killed using a theme relating to the month?"
"Bit cliche, but I could see it! I believe you man! But, if this is your first kill, you can tell this is probably more important to me.
He nodded.
With this settled, we turned back to the empty bed and spotted the open window.
Shit. | Introduction:
I had many ideas for this story, I could have done the clever idea of a monster in the closet, or something else to that affect, but I decided I wanted to go a little different.
So to start our story off, let me intoduce to you our protagonist, he has been reffered by the media by many names, but most on the internet no our fictional "hero" by only one name: "the closeted killer".
The closeted killer was not fond of the nickname the tabloids and Internet bestowed upon him. He would have preferred something like "the monster in the closet" or even "the boogey man"! He wasn't always a serial killer, there was a time were either of those names would actually have frightened him too.
He could even remember when he was little, how monsters were something to be afraid of. When he got older the fears became other people. Kidnappers, pedophiles, rapists, thugs, drug dealers, and of course, serial killers. He learned to out grow these fears of course. He was even aware that some of them were down right problematic! He might be a villain, but the war on drugs! Now that was a death count!
He couldn't hold a candle to it!
Now the closeted killer is actually pretty reasonable for a serial killer, so it wasn't like he was being unfair when he says that framing his crime's as some sort of homophobic joke was a little uncalled for. All it did was hurt that community, and insulted his vicims and there families. And he cared about his victims a lot actually.
He fashioned himself a the "humane killer" even though no one really cares how polite you are when you are shooting them in the face. He was reasonable, but that didn't make him rational.
In fact he was really the opposite of rational, he picked his victims randomly, he left little random essays by the corpse, all pertaining to the idea of how universe was random, and how he hoped to to make people appreciate life by showing them how early they too could die. And Bla bla bla. He was really a just and edge lord would would occasionally quote a philosopher (or sometimes fight club) to sound smart.
Now that you should have a handle on our lovely little psychopath, let me introduce you to his victim, who unknown to him is also his biggest fan, of course she would phrase it as his "number one disciple".
She wasn't that into her teens when she first started to obsess about serial killers. Her parents thought maybe it was just an outlet for her rebellion considering she was otherwise a good kid, and her therapist seemed to agree.
Then things started to escalate, and they started to escalate because she learned about the closeted killer.
Now she wasn't the type to keep a blog or a fan account, she did write fan fiction but she never posted it. She had reacted in the exact way the closeted killer would hypothetically would want someone to react.
She thought the message he was trying to send was genius. Every butchered quote from sartre and camue blew her teenaged mind. And on occasion she would sleep in her own closet the way a kid trying to meet Santa Claus or the tooth fairy would, not really expecting to see them, but earnestly hoping they did!
And now fate (but really it was random chance) had allowed the two to meet.
And the closeted killer, felt a breath on the back of his neck. And then his ears were filled with screaming!
(If you liked this setup LMK and I might finish it!) | |
[WP] You are a killer hiding in a woman's closet at night, waiting for the right moment to strike. You see her finally get into her bed and presumably fall asleep. Just as you're about to make a move, you feel warm breath hit the back of your neck. | What a lovely house. Nestled between gently rolling hills in the woods and just far enough from civilization to enjoy the solitude nature brings without sacrificing the comforts of modern living. The interior is spacious, but not overly so. Plenty of nooks and crannies for me to scope the place out from the inside while her husband is away on a business trip. It's been just the two of us for some time now, and I've decided tonight's the night. The moon is full and the light that filters through the high windows illuminates the beautifully decorated rooms just enough for me to see what I need to see.
A perfectly timed walk to the master bedroom closet as she closes the bathroom door to shower and the stage is set. Before long she returns, dresses for bed in the clothes she laid out when she came from work, and lays down to enjoy her nightly reading. Half an hour: that's exactly how much time she allocates each night to breeze through a chapter or two. I'm a sucker for bookworms and this one is too beautiful to let live. Just a little longer now... her breath is finally slowing, settling into a calm rhythm. She sets down her book and turns out the light.
*In. Out. In. Out.*
A few minutes more, I think, and she'll be deep asleep. Then I'll step out and wake her, in order to savor the look only someone roused suddenly from a peaceful slumber in their safe place can provide me. My fingers nervously grasp at my knife in anticipation. Sitting through my victim's final unwitting moments has always been such sweet agony.
*In. Out. In. In...?*
I must've lost track in my excitement. Focus...
*In. Out. In. Out. Out.*
That wasn't her. I've done this every night for a week now and her pattern has always been consistent. No snoring, no sleep apnea.
I wheel around silently in the closet, the hairs on my body standing on end as I consider the possibility that I'm not the sole occupant of this roomy walk-in closet. I squint through the darkness, unsettled but unsure.
A pair of shoes below the rack of clothing on the far wall are out of alignment with the rest. The heel of every pair of shoes face the closet door, but not these. I take a step closer to investigate. The toes of both shoes are pointing toward the door. She's too meticulous for that, I've seen the way every last detail of every item in the house has been perfectly arranged since her messy husband stepped out. I draw my knife, certain now that something is... off. Those are men's dress shoes.
Creeping toward the line of clothes, I'm unable to make out anything more. But I'm certain someone else is here now. I slash up at the rack of suits, the fabric quietly ripping as my knife slides through. Nothing after all, just nerves. I thought I'd be more used to the rush by now, this being my 5th victim and all.
Reassured, I turn my attention back to my obsession. I peer through the keyhole and see she's still in bed, her chest rising and falling slowly with each breath. I continue my silent watch, intoxicated by her beauty as my anticipation grows. Ready now, I reach for the door knob. I twist it slowly, slowly... and focus once again on her breathing. I need to savor it now before I stop it for good.
*In. Out. In.* A wash of air suddenly hits the back of my neck.
My heart skips a beat as pale, cold hands grasp at my throat and cover my mouth. The hands turn me around in their vice-like grip and I see a faceless man towering over me. I scream, but cannot hear it. There is only static as my vision narrows to a pinpoint and my heart pounds in my ears. His impossibly long arms wrap around me and draw me deeper into the closet. | Introduction:
I had many ideas for this story, I could have done the clever idea of a monster in the closet, or something else to that affect, but I decided I wanted to go a little different.
So to start our story off, let me intoduce to you our protagonist, he has been reffered by the media by many names, but most on the internet no our fictional "hero" by only one name: "the closeted killer".
The closeted killer was not fond of the nickname the tabloids and Internet bestowed upon him. He would have preferred something like "the monster in the closet" or even "the boogey man"! He wasn't always a serial killer, there was a time were either of those names would actually have frightened him too.
He could even remember when he was little, how monsters were something to be afraid of. When he got older the fears became other people. Kidnappers, pedophiles, rapists, thugs, drug dealers, and of course, serial killers. He learned to out grow these fears of course. He was even aware that some of them were down right problematic! He might be a villain, but the war on drugs! Now that was a death count!
He couldn't hold a candle to it!
Now the closeted killer is actually pretty reasonable for a serial killer, so it wasn't like he was being unfair when he says that framing his crime's as some sort of homophobic joke was a little uncalled for. All it did was hurt that community, and insulted his vicims and there families. And he cared about his victims a lot actually.
He fashioned himself a the "humane killer" even though no one really cares how polite you are when you are shooting them in the face. He was reasonable, but that didn't make him rational.
In fact he was really the opposite of rational, he picked his victims randomly, he left little random essays by the corpse, all pertaining to the idea of how universe was random, and how he hoped to to make people appreciate life by showing them how early they too could die. And Bla bla bla. He was really a just and edge lord would would occasionally quote a philosopher (or sometimes fight club) to sound smart.
Now that you should have a handle on our lovely little psychopath, let me introduce you to his victim, who unknown to him is also his biggest fan, of course she would phrase it as his "number one disciple".
She wasn't that into her teens when she first started to obsess about serial killers. Her parents thought maybe it was just an outlet for her rebellion considering she was otherwise a good kid, and her therapist seemed to agree.
Then things started to escalate, and they started to escalate because she learned about the closeted killer.
Now she wasn't the type to keep a blog or a fan account, she did write fan fiction but she never posted it. She had reacted in the exact way the closeted killer would hypothetically would want someone to react.
She thought the message he was trying to send was genius. Every butchered quote from sartre and camue blew her teenaged mind. And on occasion she would sleep in her own closet the way a kid trying to meet Santa Claus or the tooth fairy would, not really expecting to see them, but earnestly hoping they did!
And now fate (but really it was random chance) had allowed the two to meet.
And the closeted killer, felt a breath on the back of his neck. And then his ears were filled with screaming!
(If you liked this setup LMK and I might finish it!) | |
[WP] You are a killer hiding in a woman's closet at night, waiting for the right moment to strike. You see her finally get into her bed and presumably fall asleep. Just as you're about to make a move, you feel warm breath hit the back of your neck. | "Oh- are you here to..."
"Yeah... you too?"
"Yeah"
Well shit.
You stalk and find a target finally, put on your mask, hide in the closet, and it turns out there was another guy with the same idea, albeit under the bed.
"Aw fuck, is there like a dibs rule?"
"I mean, I've been following her for months."
Months! Hah!
"I've been following her for a year! Look:"
I show him the picture I took a year ago today. That was my thing, The Picture Killer: For every month this year, I'd taken a picture of my target the year before. Thankfully, none of them had died yet.
"Oh, you're the picture killer? I'm a huge fan"
Well, not meaning to brag, but I was quite the large fish in the killer community.
"Who're you?"
"Oh..."
He looked pensive, or well, as pensive as a 6' 7'' man can look in overalls and a mask.
"I'm just starting. Was hoping the press would name me, y'know?"
Rookie mistake.
"Noone gets a reputation like that, man! You need a theme, a brand! Make it big!"
"Yeah... yeah!"
He was nodding.
"What if I killed using a theme relating to the month?"
"Bit cliche, but I could see it! I believe you man! But, if this is your first kill, you can tell this is probably more important to me.
He nodded.
With this settled, we turned back to the empty bed and spotted the open window.
Shit. | A soft draft broke the ecstatic concentration, the warmth lessening the lust in his eyes. He stretched his mouth into a genuine smile, so different to the one he had been practicing day after day. Her shoes sprawled on the worn carpet of her room, a small heel caught in a thread from the rug. The black patent caught the soft yellow light through the coloured curtains, gleaming- not unlike the dancing knife. The calendar marked her birthday in large letters, taking more than the allotted day long space in its excitement. Her nieces followed suit, a carefully scrawled pink heart around it. It stayed in the box. A hand moved up to the doors, his weight balanced carefully on the balls of his feet. The delirium of the suspense tightened his muscles. A last glance was thrown at the familiar warm fabrics of the room; at the slumbering figure under the covers. My hands moved- caressing his head. He froze. I almost laughed, I knew the bite my voice held.
“She’s mine.”
(Edit- improvements!) | |
[WP] You are a killer hiding in a woman's closet at night, waiting for the right moment to strike. You see her finally get into her bed and presumably fall asleep. Just as you're about to make a move, you feel warm breath hit the back of your neck. | "Oh- are you here to..."
"Yeah... you too?"
"Yeah"
Well shit.
You stalk and find a target finally, put on your mask, hide in the closet, and it turns out there was another guy with the same idea, albeit under the bed.
"Aw fuck, is there like a dibs rule?"
"I mean, I've been following her for months."
Months! Hah!
"I've been following her for a year! Look:"
I show him the picture I took a year ago today. That was my thing, The Picture Killer: For every month this year, I'd taken a picture of my target the year before. Thankfully, none of them had died yet.
"Oh, you're the picture killer? I'm a huge fan"
Well, not meaning to brag, but I was quite the large fish in the killer community.
"Who're you?"
"Oh..."
He looked pensive, or well, as pensive as a 6' 7'' man can look in overalls and a mask.
"I'm just starting. Was hoping the press would name me, y'know?"
Rookie mistake.
"Noone gets a reputation like that, man! You need a theme, a brand! Make it big!"
"Yeah... yeah!"
He was nodding.
"What if I killed using a theme relating to the month?"
"Bit cliche, but I could see it! I believe you man! But, if this is your first kill, you can tell this is probably more important to me.
He nodded.
With this settled, we turned back to the empty bed and spotted the open window.
Shit. | It was at that moment that the heater had just turned on.
She must have adjusted the thermostat before heading to bed. I turned behind me to make sure that it could not be anything else, and there it was, like perfectly arranged slits opening sideways.
It was the face of the vent.
Its warm breath filled the closet with heated air and the cold dissipated. I was warm now. It was comforting.
- Jonathan Manor [r/eveningrevolution] (https://www.reddit.com/r/eveningrevolution/) | |
[WP] You are a killer hiding in a woman's closet at night, waiting for the right moment to strike. You see her finally get into her bed and presumably fall asleep. Just as you're about to make a move, you feel warm breath hit the back of your neck. | What a lovely house. Nestled between gently rolling hills in the woods and just far enough from civilization to enjoy the solitude nature brings without sacrificing the comforts of modern living. The interior is spacious, but not overly so. Plenty of nooks and crannies for me to scope the place out from the inside while her husband is away on a business trip. It's been just the two of us for some time now, and I've decided tonight's the night. The moon is full and the light that filters through the high windows illuminates the beautifully decorated rooms just enough for me to see what I need to see.
A perfectly timed walk to the master bedroom closet as she closes the bathroom door to shower and the stage is set. Before long she returns, dresses for bed in the clothes she laid out when she came from work, and lays down to enjoy her nightly reading. Half an hour: that's exactly how much time she allocates each night to breeze through a chapter or two. I'm a sucker for bookworms and this one is too beautiful to let live. Just a little longer now... her breath is finally slowing, settling into a calm rhythm. She sets down her book and turns out the light.
*In. Out. In. Out.*
A few minutes more, I think, and she'll be deep asleep. Then I'll step out and wake her, in order to savor the look only someone roused suddenly from a peaceful slumber in their safe place can provide me. My fingers nervously grasp at my knife in anticipation. Sitting through my victim's final unwitting moments has always been such sweet agony.
*In. Out. In. In...?*
I must've lost track in my excitement. Focus...
*In. Out. In. Out. Out.*
That wasn't her. I've done this every night for a week now and her pattern has always been consistent. No snoring, no sleep apnea.
I wheel around silently in the closet, the hairs on my body standing on end as I consider the possibility that I'm not the sole occupant of this roomy walk-in closet. I squint through the darkness, unsettled but unsure.
A pair of shoes below the rack of clothing on the far wall are out of alignment with the rest. The heel of every pair of shoes face the closet door, but not these. I take a step closer to investigate. The toes of both shoes are pointing toward the door. She's too meticulous for that, I've seen the way every last detail of every item in the house has been perfectly arranged since her messy husband stepped out. I draw my knife, certain now that something is... off. Those are men's dress shoes.
Creeping toward the line of clothes, I'm unable to make out anything more. But I'm certain someone else is here now. I slash up at the rack of suits, the fabric quietly ripping as my knife slides through. Nothing after all, just nerves. I thought I'd be more used to the rush by now, this being my 5th victim and all.
Reassured, I turn my attention back to my obsession. I peer through the keyhole and see she's still in bed, her chest rising and falling slowly with each breath. I continue my silent watch, intoxicated by her beauty as my anticipation grows. Ready now, I reach for the door knob. I twist it slowly, slowly... and focus once again on her breathing. I need to savor it now before I stop it for good.
*In. Out. In.* A wash of air suddenly hits the back of my neck.
My heart skips a beat as pale, cold hands grasp at my throat and cover my mouth. The hands turn me around in their vice-like grip and I see a faceless man towering over me. I scream, but cannot hear it. There is only static as my vision narrows to a pinpoint and my heart pounds in my ears. His impossibly long arms wrap around me and draw me deeper into the closet. | It was at that moment that the heater had just turned on.
She must have adjusted the thermostat before heading to bed. I turned behind me to make sure that it could not be anything else, and there it was, like perfectly arranged slits opening sideways.
It was the face of the vent.
Its warm breath filled the closet with heated air and the cold dissipated. I was warm now. It was comforting.
- Jonathan Manor [r/eveningrevolution] (https://www.reddit.com/r/eveningrevolution/) | |
[WP] It’s the future, and a new service has been developed to text and tell people they will die 24 hours before they do. One morning, everyone on Earth gets that text. | "It's weird when you wake up to it. To the end. To death." I remember an old spoof movie that said you cant wake up dead unless you are a zombie. Figuratively speaking it's an accurate statement. Up until today I have been mindlessly going about my days for years like a zombie. I've been working up the courage to just end it myself because I was too scared to receive the message. Today was different. I wanted to see the sky, feel the grass and touch her face. She received the message too. Everyone did. I was getting calls from my family freaking out. Aunts and uncles apologizing for wrongful shit they had done, father telling mother he cheated. They wanted to go out in the best light possible as if it was some sort of rapture. I didn't believe in this "technology" religion we had willingly subdued to. I asked her what I could do by breakfast to make our last day special. "Play me a song" she said. So I picked up an old acoustic I found in the dumpster a few years ago and strummed her favorite. She hummed the tune and held our sons phone to her chest. We lost him almost a year ago to the day. I remember that day clearly how painful it was, yet it was all we wanted to talk about. I am going to miss her contagious laugh. That smile that brightens up the room and of course that ass. She gave me the best last day I could ever hope for just by being there. We just laid there for the rest of the day. Reminiscent of the early parenthood years. By nightfall we laid outside and looked at our star. We picked one when Liam left us. You cant see it unless you leave about a half hour outside the city. Funny, no traffic. As we receive another message saying only an hour left we turn on his phone. A draft he had typed up was there on the home screen titled "Funny". It took us almost the remaining time to open it. When we did we saw it was written the day he died. We never knew he received the message it was so sudden. We hoped it would give us a release in the end. He mentioned he didn't want to worry us but just wanted one last regular day with us. He left us with a final sentence when it ended abruptly. "It's weird when you wake up to it. To the end. To death." | The year is 2093. You're on an island full of dinosaurs somewhere in the Pacific Ocean.
Beeeeeeeeep. Bzzzzzzz. Brrrrrrp. All at once, the emergency alert signal starts going off on every single phone in the area. There's no children on the island, so it can't be an Amber alert. You reach into your back pocket and read.
“Within the next 24 hours, you, and everyone you know or have ever known, will be dead. Say your goodbyes and make your peace with yourself. Thank you for your participation in DeathAlert 3.0. to unsubscribe, send STOP. Messaging and data rates may apply.”
You look into the sky and see a faint, glowing orange orb. Right now it's as small as a pin prick, like a star that wasn't hiding behind daylight. You stare a little harder, and it gets a little closer.
“Goddamnit John, I told you bringing dinosaurs back from the dead was a terrible fucking idea."
| |
[WP] As children, people develop a telepathic connection to their future soulmate. It usually is perceived as mental background noise, as it is so intwined with one's own mind. However, as you are talking with a friend of yours, you suddenly realize that neither of you are actually saying anything. | Soulmates. Obviously it's the one you're meant to marry, right? The one you love, and want to spend all your time with, forever. The one you're so close to you can hear each others thoughts, carry on a whole conversation without saying a word. Today, as we celebrate our thirtieth anniversary with our friends and families, I want to share a story.
I met my wife in college, and we both knew right then that we were in love. Head over heels, crazy about each other love. We spent our time together, even got our best friends, Josh and Anne, paired up so we could do couples things when out with friends. After all, soulmates want to be together, right?
We eloped, not on a whim, but after careful planning. The four of us went to Acadia, and were married on an island in the spring. Our best friends for our witnesses, and we were theirs. There is nobody in this world I'd rather have started a family with than my wife. Today, we reveal to you our deepest secret. And yes, I mean OUR, all four of us. Up here you see two couples, two pairs of soulmates. But it is not as you think. I grew up with my best friend, we were as close as we could be, and we knew everything about each other. Everyone always said it was like we could read each others' minds. We were friends. Best friends, shared everything. We went off to college, and still shared it all.
When I met Lily, I knew she was right for me. We dated, we loved, and then, after a while, we shared our secrets. Well, secret, I suppose, since it was the same. Then I called Josh, and Lily called Anne, and we all talked that night for hours. Now, we wish to share our secret with you. Well, I see I've talked too long, and I'm being told it's time for the soulmates to dance. This will work just as well as telling you.
Josh, if you would be so kind? Thank you, enjoy your dance with Lily. And now, Anne, let us dance. | I'm a bot, *bleep*, *bloop*. Someone has linked to this thread from another place on reddit:
- [/r/u_vikeesii] [\[WP\] As children, people develop a telepathic connection to their future soulmate. It usually is perceived as mental background noise, as it is so intwined with one's own mind. However, as you are talking with a friend of yours, you suddenly realize that neither of you are actually saying anything.](https://www.reddit.com/r/u_VIKEESII/comments/8hm05f/wp_as_children_people_develop_a_telepathic/)
 *^(If you follow any of the above links, please respect the rules of reddit and don't vote in the other threads.) ^\([Info](/r/TotesMessenger) ^/ ^[Contact](/message/compose?to=/r/TotesMessenger))* | |
[WP] As children, people develop a telepathic connection to their future soulmate. It usually is perceived as mental background noise, as it is so intwined with one's own mind. However, as you are talking with a friend of yours, you suddenly realize that neither of you are actually saying anything. | I could hear her more clearly now. My soulmate. At first she had been nothing but fleeting images and sounds on the edge of my senses. Like deja-vu or a gut feeling. It felt like being haunted, but happily so - I wasn't alone anymore. She felt familiar, like home, yet I still couldn't tell who she was. As our telepathic link developed, she slowly started coming into focus. That was how it worked with soulmates. And when I would dream, she would be there.
Part of me felt immense comfort knowing she was there, somewhere in the world, feeling my presence too. But the other part of me felt immense frustration that after a year and a half, I was still no closer to figuring out the identity of my soulmate. While it wasn't unheard of to take longer than a year, that knowledge was of little comfort. Still, she was there with me. When I was angry or upset, I could feel her calm, washing over me like water. When I could feel her sadness I would focus all my mental energy on sending her warm thoughts. She was with me, soothing me when I lost my job. And I was there for her when grief hit. I got the impression someone close to her died. Her father perhaps? I'll have to ask her who it was when I finally meet her.
I sat bolt upright in bed, gasping. Frantically, my sleep-addled brain grasped at the memories of my dream as they faded and slipped away. I knew she had been there with me in my dream. But like every other night, the details evaporated before I could commit them to memory. All that remained was the warm, tingly feeling indicating we had once again been intimate in our shared dream. How much longer until I find her?
After a few too many drinks, the talk turned, as it so often did with people our age, to soulmates. In our circle, Jay and Sil had already found theirs. The rest of us were in the process. No one had been telepathically linked as long as I had though. I had been the first, so naturally, everyone assumed I would be the first to find my soulmate as well. But Sil found hers 8 months later. And Jay found his in one month flat! I was happy for my friends of course. But it killed me a little inside to see how easy it had been for them.
"I wrote my full name and phone number on a poster at the foot of my bed," said Sil.
Mark chimed in on cue - they had the story down pat after countless tellings. "One morning as I woke up, I could see it through her eyes, clear as day."
"Mark and I were sharing a sandwich by lunchtime!" finished Sil.
"Tuna on rye," we all chimed in. I am sure Mark and Sil said the words too, but their lips didn't move. They no longer had to speak aloud to communicate.
Everyone had ideas about how to make it easier to find your soulmates. Message boards were full of hopeful posts:
You: looking at a painting of an orange flower yesterday at 3:17.
Me: swimming at Whale Point Tuesday at 11.
Looking for the owner of a Dalmation named Sparky
There were sketches and images, descriptions of places, people and events. People scoured the boards looking for anything that struck a chord or felt familiar. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack though. Your soulmate could be next door or thousands of miles away. Sometimes you just had to wait until the connection was strong enough to allow conversation. My soulmate and I hadn't gotten there yet.
"Five! Four! Three! Two! One!" At the stroke of midnight, the world went dead silent. Without making a noise we all shouted "Happy New Year" in our minds, and then listened as hard as we could for a name. Last year, I thought I heard something, but nothing I could identify. But this year the connection was much stronger. Maybe, just maybe? As I silently thought "Happy New Year," I was startled by the sound of it being shouted in my ear. I looked around in frustration. What idiot was ruining everything by talking aloud at a time like this? One full minute of silence at the new year. Once per time zone. It was like a sacred tradition. But no one else reacted. No one else seemed to have noticed. It was her! Finally!
"I'm Sara" Her words came clear as a bell. My whole body vibrated as if I were that bell and she had struck me.
"I'm C.J." I tried to focus the words sharply in my mind. But my head was spinning. I am reasonably certain I forgot to breathe. Her name was Sara. A pretty common name though. I knew at least 4 women with that name. My best friend' sister was a Sara...
I looked up. Sara. I hadn't seen her in years, not since she was a little girl in pigtails. Back then she was annoying. Always getting in our way, always wanting to play with us. The little sister we couldn't wait to get rid of. Sara. The awkward kid with a crooked grin and gangly limbs. Sara. She wasn't awkward now. Our eyes locked. "Happy New Year!" I thought. "Yes, it is," she thought back. I could feel her smile before I saw it.
| I'm a bot, *bleep*, *bloop*. Someone has linked to this thread from another place on reddit:
- [/r/u_vikeesii] [\[WP\] As children, people develop a telepathic connection to their future soulmate. It usually is perceived as mental background noise, as it is so intwined with one's own mind. However, as you are talking with a friend of yours, you suddenly realize that neither of you are actually saying anything.](https://www.reddit.com/r/u_VIKEESII/comments/8hm05f/wp_as_children_people_develop_a_telepathic/)
 *^(If you follow any of the above links, please respect the rules of reddit and don't vote in the other threads.) ^\([Info](/r/TotesMessenger) ^/ ^[Contact](/message/compose?to=/r/TotesMessenger))* | |
[WP] As children, people develop a telepathic connection to their future soulmate. It usually is perceived as mental background noise, as it is so intwined with one's own mind. However, as you are talking with a friend of yours, you suddenly realize that neither of you are actually saying anything. | Everyone at school was always finding and talking about who their soulmates are, and I'm sitting in the corner, worried if I'm going to do poorly on the ACT, or when the next episode of my favorite podcasts are going to come out. I'm Michael, your average nerdy, skinny, white boy... At public school.
The only fortunate thing about being in high school is that you're exposed to a lot: people, hobbies, cliques, etc. I never thought of this as a good thing, since all it ever got me was a couple of wedgies and a net loss of about $36.50.
Today was different. Today I wanted to do something that would normally scare the shit out of me. I was planning to ask a girl to prom. The few friends that I have were mostly supportive, although Kyle was practically as nervous as I was. Eddie, ever the optimist, believed wholeheartedly that all would go well.
"You got this." Eddie smiled and it looked as though he was trying to force his optimism and confidence onto me.
"I'm not so sure, she's one of the most popular and attractive girls in school, why would she want a loser like me?"
"You have some things going for you, I mean you're not ugly, and you can be funny sometimes."
"Real encouraging, bud."
"Who knows, maybe you two are soulmates." Eddie suggested eagerly.
"With the amount of time I spent in sports and classes with her, I highly doubt it, since I've only heard her voice through my ears."
"You never know. It's happened before."
"Whatever you say."
After three hours, a headache, and two waves of nausea, it finally came time to do the deed. There she was, Reagan, standing by some lockers, probably waiting for her brother like she does every other day. The perfect time to get her alone, or so I thought. She was there, as per usual, but she was talking to the nerdy-girl-turned-popular-chick.
*If I approach her, they'll know what's up right away, my only hope is that one of them walks away before Reagan's brother shows up*
I placed myself in a group of people that I talk to very rarely, but it gave me enough of a view so I could tell when either party decided to leave.
*I guess if she doesn't leave, I won't have to go through with this stupid idea, what am I even thinking anyway?*
Either fortunately or not, my obstacle walked off, leaving Reagan alone once again.
I breathed in deeply and let out one shaky breath after another
*You got this. Eddie knows you got this. Everything will be fine.*
I took another shaky breath and my legs started moving, seemingly of their own accord.
"Hey Reagan, how's it going?" I say, severely impressed with my ability to not voice crack.
"Oh hi Michael, I'm doing fine." She responded with just enough indifference to make me question what I was about to do
"Good."
*It's now or never*
"So I know this is a little out of the blue, but will you go to prom with me?"
"Oh, uh, let me get back to you on that one."
I hear her voice echoing in the back of my skull
' **Hopefully he'll get the memo**'
"Alright, see ya tomorrow." I manage, hopefully containing my surprise.
*What was that*
*Oh God*
*Could we*
*No way*
*But she totally didn't notice*
*She'll think I'm lying*
*What do I do*
*I best just leave it alone*
*No, I can't live with knowing who my soulmate is and doing nothing about it*
-----------------------------
I bolted upright, clock reading 4:56 AM. I felt something in that dream, that dream where I know something happened, I know Reagan felt it too, but it faded so quickly it's almost as if it's just wishful thinking.
I head into my kitchen, eat a couple bowls of whichever generic corn-based cereal my mom put in the cupboard, and attempt to make a plan.
*If I just go to school and claim I'm her soulmate, I'll get laughed into expulsion*
*Maybe I can try to contact her mentally*
*Or just have a normal conversation, see if anything clicks*
I focus my attention on the part of my brain where I heard her rejection, as painful and creepy as it seems.
I can feel a lot of nothing, either indicating that I suck, or she's still asleep. Just in case it's the former, I keep trying, almost in a mediative state, until I can feel something.
*Saying something as soon as she wakes up probably isn't the best idea*
*I'll wait until I get to school*
----------------------------
I walk in and sit at our normal table, out of the way of most people so we don't get forced into social interaction.
"So how'd it go?" Eddie chimes in from several feet away
"I got rejected, but I think we're soulmates."
"How the hell does that one work?"
"I'm about to test it. Don't disturb me."
*Alright, here goes nothing*
I focus on the same spot in my mind that I felt this morning, it feels more alert, and much brighter than it did at 5:30. I think that's a good sign.
'*Hello*'
... Nothing
'*It's Michael Parthon, I think we're soulmates*'
I look over at Eddie, and he's staring at me with disbelief
"What?" I ask.
"Y-y-your voice j-just.." he stammered.
*Shit* | I'm a bot, *bleep*, *bloop*. Someone has linked to this thread from another place on reddit:
- [/r/u_vikeesii] [\[WP\] As children, people develop a telepathic connection to their future soulmate. It usually is perceived as mental background noise, as it is so intwined with one's own mind. However, as you are talking with a friend of yours, you suddenly realize that neither of you are actually saying anything.](https://www.reddit.com/r/u_VIKEESII/comments/8hm05f/wp_as_children_people_develop_a_telepathic/)
 *^(If you follow any of the above links, please respect the rules of reddit and don't vote in the other threads.) ^\([Info](/r/TotesMessenger) ^/ ^[Contact](/message/compose?to=/r/TotesMessenger))* | |
[WP] As children, people develop a telepathic connection to their future soulmate. It usually is perceived as mental background noise, as it is so intwined with one's own mind. However, as you are talking with a friend of yours, you suddenly realize that neither of you are actually saying anything. | I'm 26. I just graduated in robotics applied to the medical field. I didn't exactly take the easiest route to having a degree of some sorts. A small brush with the law, nothing too serious mind you: petty theft. I had to eat, stole a few items here and there, maybe a wallet or two. I did my time, 8 months. I was lucky the jury didn't want to make an example out of me.
So, I just graduated. And I applied to a shitload of job openings. I got a few interviews, but most of them didn't exactly go all the way through. Strange how seeing a couple lines about me being in a penitentiary suddenly gives people cold feet, uh? But I'm glad those didn't work out. You see, in about 3 minutes, I have the one meeting I really want to nail. Biobots, Inc. Small start-up, about 40 people working there, company specialising in bionic limbs and nanorobots to help reduce psychological traumas. The latter being what I did my thesis on. I'm pumped! I want to succeed in that interview. Incidentally, there aren't many other companies recruiting in my field, and I don't exactly want to go work at Burger King's... I don't mind being a customer, I just don't want to work there.
 
"Alyssa Robbins?" a voice calls in the corridor
I stand up as I blurt out a motivated: "That's me!
- Please follow me to your interview." asks the secretary.
I follow this guy and enter a small meeting room. Table for 4 to 6 people, tops. Across the table from me, 2 men. The one on my left is wearing kaki shorts and a short sleeved pink shirt. Fashion clearly isn't his strong suit. He opens his mouth while offering to shake my hand:
"I'm Jake Arvell, welcome to Biobots. We'll be interviewing you on nanorobotics and their inner workings today. I'm the company's HR and Happiness Chief Officer. On my left is Matt Frost, our lead biologist whose topic of expertise is the hormonal effects of psychological illnesses. Please take a sit."
Matt is much more my style. I bring my hand forward and shake his with a warm smile. He's wearing blue jeans and a Motörhead t-shirt. He's got this glow in his eyes that probably makes all women swoon all over him when he's near. I sit in my chair and discreetly arch my back a little, relaxing my shoulders. Jake then speaks again:
"What I propose is that you introduce yourself quickly, in about 3 to 5 minutes, and then we'll jump right in! Does that seem good to you?
- Absolutely."
 
So I told them pretty much the same thing I told you. Name, age, academic pursuits, crime period, etc... I don't very much like to talk about me so I made sure to last 3 minutes before I concluded, speaking about why I decided to apply for a job with them.
"Thank you, said Jake. Matt, if you will, do you want to start the technical interview now?
- Sure thing, Jake." he says with his warm voice. Oh yeah he makes women swoon alright. He then turns to me and starts asking questions to which I answer as well as I can, always taking the time to answer in a logical manner. After a few questions, Jake's voice echoes in the back of my head:
"I'm sorry, are there no technical questions being asked?
- I just asked her a few questions, Jake. Did you phase out of the room while I did that?
-It's been about a minute that I see you two exchanging stares, nodding heads and Matt putting his finger on particular points of your resume. There has been no sound aside from our breathing."
Matt and I start to laugh, thinking he's pulling our leg.
 
The dead-serious look on Jake's face tells another story though.
I look at Matt. Matt looks at me.
Jake's voice echoes in the meeting room:
"Well, isn't that cute?"
 
--
 
I went a bit off scenario but figured it'd be somewhat funnier if they met like that. Apologies for going a bit overboard with that, but I hope you enjoyed it nevertheless. | I'm a bot, *bleep*, *bloop*. Someone has linked to this thread from another place on reddit:
- [/r/u_vikeesii] [\[WP\] As children, people develop a telepathic connection to their future soulmate. It usually is perceived as mental background noise, as it is so intwined with one's own mind. However, as you are talking with a friend of yours, you suddenly realize that neither of you are actually saying anything.](https://www.reddit.com/r/u_VIKEESII/comments/8hm05f/wp_as_children_people_develop_a_telepathic/)
 *^(If you follow any of the above links, please respect the rules of reddit and don't vote in the other threads.) ^\([Info](/r/TotesMessenger) ^/ ^[Contact](/message/compose?to=/r/TotesMessenger))* | |
[WP] As children, people develop a telepathic connection to their future soulmate. It usually is perceived as mental background noise, as it is so intwined with one's own mind. However, as you are talking with a friend of yours, you suddenly realize that neither of you are actually saying anything. | Everyone at school was always finding and talking about who their soulmates are, and I'm sitting in the corner, worried if I'm going to do poorly on the ACT, or when the next episode of my favorite podcasts are going to come out. I'm Michael, your average nerdy, skinny, white boy... At public school.
The only fortunate thing about being in high school is that you're exposed to a lot: people, hobbies, cliques, etc. I never thought of this as a good thing, since all it ever got me was a couple of wedgies and a net loss of about $36.50.
Today was different. Today I wanted to do something that would normally scare the shit out of me. I was planning to ask a girl to prom. The few friends that I have were mostly supportive, although Kyle was practically as nervous as I was. Eddie, ever the optimist, believed wholeheartedly that all would go well.
"You got this." Eddie smiled and it looked as though he was trying to force his optimism and confidence onto me.
"I'm not so sure, she's one of the most popular and attractive girls in school, why would she want a loser like me?"
"You have some things going for you, I mean you're not ugly, and you can be funny sometimes."
"Real encouraging, bud."
"Who knows, maybe you two are soulmates." Eddie suggested eagerly.
"With the amount of time I spent in sports and classes with her, I highly doubt it, since I've only heard her voice through my ears."
"You never know. It's happened before."
"Whatever you say."
After three hours, a headache, and two waves of nausea, it finally came time to do the deed. There she was, Reagan, standing by some lockers, probably waiting for her brother like she does every other day. The perfect time to get her alone, or so I thought. She was there, as per usual, but she was talking to the nerdy-girl-turned-popular-chick.
*If I approach her, they'll know what's up right away, my only hope is that one of them walks away before Reagan's brother shows up*
I placed myself in a group of people that I talk to very rarely, but it gave me enough of a view so I could tell when either party decided to leave.
*I guess if she doesn't leave, I won't have to go through with this stupid idea, what am I even thinking anyway?*
Either fortunately or not, my obstacle walked off, leaving Reagan alone once again.
I breathed in deeply and let out one shaky breath after another
*You got this. Eddie knows you got this. Everything will be fine.*
I took another shaky breath and my legs started moving, seemingly of their own accord.
"Hey Reagan, how's it going?" I say, severely impressed with my ability to not voice crack.
"Oh hi Michael, I'm doing fine." She responded with just enough indifference to make me question what I was about to do
"Good."
*It's now or never*
"So I know this is a little out of the blue, but will you go to prom with me?"
"Oh, uh, let me get back to you on that one."
I hear her voice echoing in the back of my skull
' **Hopefully he'll get the memo**'
"Alright, see ya tomorrow." I manage, hopefully containing my surprise.
*What was that*
*Oh God*
*Could we*
*No way*
*But she totally didn't notice*
*She'll think I'm lying*
*What do I do*
*I best just leave it alone*
*No, I can't live with knowing who my soulmate is and doing nothing about it*
-----------------------------
I bolted upright, clock reading 4:56 AM. I felt something in that dream, that dream where I know something happened, I know Reagan felt it too, but it faded so quickly it's almost as if it's just wishful thinking.
I head into my kitchen, eat a couple bowls of whichever generic corn-based cereal my mom put in the cupboard, and attempt to make a plan.
*If I just go to school and claim I'm her soulmate, I'll get laughed into expulsion*
*Maybe I can try to contact her mentally*
*Or just have a normal conversation, see if anything clicks*
I focus my attention on the part of my brain where I heard her rejection, as painful and creepy as it seems.
I can feel a lot of nothing, either indicating that I suck, or she's still asleep. Just in case it's the former, I keep trying, almost in a mediative state, until I can feel something.
*Saying something as soon as she wakes up probably isn't the best idea*
*I'll wait until I get to school*
----------------------------
I walk in and sit at our normal table, out of the way of most people so we don't get forced into social interaction.
"So how'd it go?" Eddie chimes in from several feet away
"I got rejected, but I think we're soulmates."
"How the hell does that one work?"
"I'm about to test it. Don't disturb me."
*Alright, here goes nothing*
I focus on the same spot in my mind that I felt this morning, it feels more alert, and much brighter than it did at 5:30. I think that's a good sign.
'*Hello*'
... Nothing
'*It's Michael Parthon, I think we're soulmates*'
I look over at Eddie, and he's staring at me with disbelief
"What?" I ask.
"Y-y-your voice j-just.." he stammered.
*Shit* | Soulmates. Obviously it's the one you're meant to marry, right? The one you love, and want to spend all your time with, forever. The one you're so close to you can hear each others thoughts, carry on a whole conversation without saying a word. Today, as we celebrate our thirtieth anniversary with our friends and families, I want to share a story.
I met my wife in college, and we both knew right then that we were in love. Head over heels, crazy about each other love. We spent our time together, even got our best friends, Josh and Anne, paired up so we could do couples things when out with friends. After all, soulmates want to be together, right?
We eloped, not on a whim, but after careful planning. The four of us went to Acadia, and were married on an island in the spring. Our best friends for our witnesses, and we were theirs. There is nobody in this world I'd rather have started a family with than my wife. Today, we reveal to you our deepest secret. And yes, I mean OUR, all four of us. Up here you see two couples, two pairs of soulmates. But it is not as you think. I grew up with my best friend, we were as close as we could be, and we knew everything about each other. Everyone always said it was like we could read each others' minds. We were friends. Best friends, shared everything. We went off to college, and still shared it all.
When I met Lily, I knew she was right for me. We dated, we loved, and then, after a while, we shared our secrets. Well, secret, I suppose, since it was the same. Then I called Josh, and Lily called Anne, and we all talked that night for hours. Now, we wish to share our secret with you. Well, I see I've talked too long, and I'm being told it's time for the soulmates to dance. This will work just as well as telling you.
Josh, if you would be so kind? Thank you, enjoy your dance with Lily. And now, Anne, let us dance. | |
[WP] As children, people develop a telepathic connection to their future soulmate. It usually is perceived as mental background noise, as it is so intwined with one's own mind. However, as you are talking with a friend of yours, you suddenly realize that neither of you are actually saying anything. | I'm 26. I just graduated in robotics applied to the medical field. I didn't exactly take the easiest route to having a degree of some sorts. A small brush with the law, nothing too serious mind you: petty theft. I had to eat, stole a few items here and there, maybe a wallet or two. I did my time, 8 months. I was lucky the jury didn't want to make an example out of me.
So, I just graduated. And I applied to a shitload of job openings. I got a few interviews, but most of them didn't exactly go all the way through. Strange how seeing a couple lines about me being in a penitentiary suddenly gives people cold feet, uh? But I'm glad those didn't work out. You see, in about 3 minutes, I have the one meeting I really want to nail. Biobots, Inc. Small start-up, about 40 people working there, company specialising in bionic limbs and nanorobots to help reduce psychological traumas. The latter being what I did my thesis on. I'm pumped! I want to succeed in that interview. Incidentally, there aren't many other companies recruiting in my field, and I don't exactly want to go work at Burger King's... I don't mind being a customer, I just don't want to work there.
 
"Alyssa Robbins?" a voice calls in the corridor
I stand up as I blurt out a motivated: "That's me!
- Please follow me to your interview." asks the secretary.
I follow this guy and enter a small meeting room. Table for 4 to 6 people, tops. Across the table from me, 2 men. The one on my left is wearing kaki shorts and a short sleeved pink shirt. Fashion clearly isn't his strong suit. He opens his mouth while offering to shake my hand:
"I'm Jake Arvell, welcome to Biobots. We'll be interviewing you on nanorobotics and their inner workings today. I'm the company's HR and Happiness Chief Officer. On my left is Matt Frost, our lead biologist whose topic of expertise is the hormonal effects of psychological illnesses. Please take a sit."
Matt is much more my style. I bring my hand forward and shake his with a warm smile. He's wearing blue jeans and a Motörhead t-shirt. He's got this glow in his eyes that probably makes all women swoon all over him when he's near. I sit in my chair and discreetly arch my back a little, relaxing my shoulders. Jake then speaks again:
"What I propose is that you introduce yourself quickly, in about 3 to 5 minutes, and then we'll jump right in! Does that seem good to you?
- Absolutely."
 
So I told them pretty much the same thing I told you. Name, age, academic pursuits, crime period, etc... I don't very much like to talk about me so I made sure to last 3 minutes before I concluded, speaking about why I decided to apply for a job with them.
"Thank you, said Jake. Matt, if you will, do you want to start the technical interview now?
- Sure thing, Jake." he says with his warm voice. Oh yeah he makes women swoon alright. He then turns to me and starts asking questions to which I answer as well as I can, always taking the time to answer in a logical manner. After a few questions, Jake's voice echoes in the back of my head:
"I'm sorry, are there no technical questions being asked?
- I just asked her a few questions, Jake. Did you phase out of the room while I did that?
-It's been about a minute that I see you two exchanging stares, nodding heads and Matt putting his finger on particular points of your resume. There has been no sound aside from our breathing."
Matt and I start to laugh, thinking he's pulling our leg.
 
The dead-serious look on Jake's face tells another story though.
I look at Matt. Matt looks at me.
Jake's voice echoes in the meeting room:
"Well, isn't that cute?"
 
--
 
I went a bit off scenario but figured it'd be somewhat funnier if they met like that. Apologies for going a bit overboard with that, but I hope you enjoyed it nevertheless. | Soulmates. Obviously it's the one you're meant to marry, right? The one you love, and want to spend all your time with, forever. The one you're so close to you can hear each others thoughts, carry on a whole conversation without saying a word. Today, as we celebrate our thirtieth anniversary with our friends and families, I want to share a story.
I met my wife in college, and we both knew right then that we were in love. Head over heels, crazy about each other love. We spent our time together, even got our best friends, Josh and Anne, paired up so we could do couples things when out with friends. After all, soulmates want to be together, right?
We eloped, not on a whim, but after careful planning. The four of us went to Acadia, and were married on an island in the spring. Our best friends for our witnesses, and we were theirs. There is nobody in this world I'd rather have started a family with than my wife. Today, we reveal to you our deepest secret. And yes, I mean OUR, all four of us. Up here you see two couples, two pairs of soulmates. But it is not as you think. I grew up with my best friend, we were as close as we could be, and we knew everything about each other. Everyone always said it was like we could read each others' minds. We were friends. Best friends, shared everything. We went off to college, and still shared it all.
When I met Lily, I knew she was right for me. We dated, we loved, and then, after a while, we shared our secrets. Well, secret, I suppose, since it was the same. Then I called Josh, and Lily called Anne, and we all talked that night for hours. Now, we wish to share our secret with you. Well, I see I've talked too long, and I'm being told it's time for the soulmates to dance. This will work just as well as telling you.
Josh, if you would be so kind? Thank you, enjoy your dance with Lily. And now, Anne, let us dance. | |
[WP] As children, people develop a telepathic connection to their future soulmate. It usually is perceived as mental background noise, as it is so intwined with one's own mind. However, as you are talking with a friend of yours, you suddenly realize that neither of you are actually saying anything. | How long had I known Barry, by now? Since kindergarten? Preschool, maybe? We'd been through just about everything together, from playing at recess to fist-fights in the high school hallways. Yeah, sure, we had our squad with us, our other buddies that'd be right there with us helpin' kick some ass, but Barry and I had known each other since childhood.
And now it'd come to this. The week of his wedding. I never thought I'd see him getting married to his high school sweetheart, but hey, life surprises you, don't it?
I was lying on the hotel bed, my back against the wall as I tapped away on my laptop my earphones in playing music. Grind never stops, you know. Then I heard a tapping on the door that connected Barry's hotel room with mine. Yeah, 'course we had connected hotel rooms. I was his best man.
As he walked into the room, I said, "Give me a second. I'm finishing up this report real quick."
"Yeah, yeah, sure, whatever," Barry replied. "I just wanted to hang around for a bit. Clarissa just went out with your girl Marissa, and I was too tired to do much of anything."
I nodded. "Mhm, yeah, whatever."
A few seconds of nothing but the keyboard clicking passed. Then, satisfied, I alt-tabbed to Chrome to browse Reddit.
"How you feelin'?" I asked. "It's the big week of your wedding." I smirked. "I always figured you'd be a sugar daddy, to be honest, not someone actually vying for a family."
"Shocker, right?" Barry said, rolling his eyes. He was sitting on the floor to my right, his back against the wall. "You can't say much of anything though. You were a bigger player than I was back then."
I smiled. "Yeah, sure." A few moments passed. The song changed to something I didn't like, so I flipped over to my music player and skipped the song.
Then, I realized. I had been playing music the whole conversation. Full blast. How was I... hearing him?
For a few moments, the gears turned in my head. Then, it clicked. We were soulmates? Nah, that can't be right, can it?
Frantically, I yanked out my earphones and damn near ripped them out of the socket. I sat up straight.
"You alright?" Barry... telepathically said.
I blurted it out, for real this time, with my mouth. "Quit that."
It took him a second to figure out what I was saying. Then I saw the realization dawn on his face; his lips weren't moving, but he was talkin' to me.
"Wait," he said. "We're...?"
I nodded my head slowly, uncertainly. "Uh, yeah, I guess.."
"Wait, but," Barry said. "I ain't gay. Trust me. I tried it before."
"Yeah, I know. You told me about it."
"So, how does that..?"
I sat back again, trying to process what was happening. I wasn't gay either, right? I'd tried it a few times too, and nothing clicked. Hundred percent straight. I could tell Barry was trying to think it through too.
Then, some thought came into my head. Something that just sparked. "Well, I mean, it doesn't mean that we're gay, does it?" I murmured.
"What? What'd you mean?"
"Well, like, they always talk about it bein' romance and stuff. And 'course, that's what everyone always talks about, right? You know all our old crew, all their soulmates are who they're married to now."
"Yeah, and your point is?"
"But you know, soulmates doesn't mean you gotta love each other romantically, does it? I mean, for most of those guys, their wives are their best friends." I shuffled uncomfortably. "So I mean, that's just a matter of coincidence, isn't it?"
"I mean, I... guess?"
"And I mean, we've been through a lot of shit together." A grin tugged at my lips. "A lot. We're like brothers now, aren't we?"
Barry nodded and sighed nostalgically. "Yeah. It's been a damn wild ride, hasn't it?"
"Hah. Yeah. Just 'cause we're soulmates doesn't mean we're in love or whatever crap, does it? Not that romantic kind of love anyway."
"Nah, no way," Barry said, standing up. He strode over and clapped me on the shoulder. "But I do love you, Harry. You're family. That's what we are." A grin broke across his face.
I smiled as well, my ever-so-tough manly exterior breaking. "Yeah." I threw my legs over the edge of the bed, and stood up. Then, I put my hand on his shoulder. "Family."
And may I say, watching my soulmate get married to the girl of his dreams... Man, that was the best wedding I'd ever been to.
---
IDK, I always see people thinking of soulmates as romantic love and I don't see it too often as other relationships, so I just threw this out real quick to kind of defy the stereotypes. | I heard of the telepathic connection soulmates shared with each other. My grandparents were lucky enough to have such a deep connection. For some people, it's so intertwined within one's own thoughts that it's not easily perceived.
In high school, people normally casted this aside, taking it as an opportunity to explore and see other people.
I approached my friend Marcus in the hallway. The normally witty and talkative jock seemed sullen and closed off.
"Come on. Whats really wrong, bud?" I asked him.
"Jennifer and I broke up over the weekend. Jus- I don't really want to talk about it right. now." I noticed he looked conflicted rather than depressed.
"Oh. I'm real sorry." I patted his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.
"Thanks Dan."
Awkward silence quickly ensued between us. Then, for a second, I swear I felt it; that telepathic connection. *Nah. There's no way Marcus is my soulmate. I'm not sure his parents would be crazy about that idea either...*
Then we made eye contact. I could just tell we both knew. Neither of us wanted to acknowledge it.
Marcus had an expression of shock on his face, as if he was still trying to process everything. And truth be told, so was I. All he could muster was an awkward "see you later."
He dipped and I begrudingly walked into Mrs. Tinsley's history class. I tuned out her notes on World War II as I mulled over the events of what just happend. I was drawn back to reality when I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. A text from Marcus that just read: **Meet me after school at the old baseball field.**
"Daniel!" called out an authoritative voice. "You know the rules. No phones in class!"
As I surrendered my phone to Mrs. Tinsley, I had mixed emotions about the meeting. Yeah, Marcus and I are soulmates, but how will he react? How will his family react? *Is that what he's even going to discus? I'm probably getting worked up over nothing,*
Later that day the final bell rang, and I made my way to the old baseball field. Since the school had since developed a nicer field, the old diamond had since fallen into dilapidation and been invaded by weeds. I approached Marcus, his blonde hair glistening in the afternoon sun as he stood on the remains of the pitcher's mound.
"Hey... So..." was all he said, obviously struggling to string words together.
I reached out and held his hand in mine. "Its gonna be okay."
"Thanks." He looked down the ground with a goofy smile. *Man, he's so cute when he smiles.* Marcus pulled away. "I've wanted to tell you something. I broke up with Jennifer because I realized, you've been my soulmate all along. I like you, no- I love you Dan."
We resumed holding hands. "I love you too Marcus." | |
[WP] You’re born always knowing what percent through your life you are. While walking to work you catch a shimmer of light in the sky. Your progress skips from 19% to 85%. | It had all started on my 15th birthday. I’d been walking to school, as usual, when the glimmer of a dancing neon sign caught my eye. Involuntarily, I turned, the tiniest flick of the eyes, such a small twitch for the catastrophe that followed.
In that instant, just the blink of an eye, my life bar glitched upward from 19% indicating a comfortable death at the age of 78, to 85% indicating a tragic demise at 17. Horrified, I glared in disbelief at the dancing neon sign.
A camel grinned back at me, galloping in front of a cartoonish desert scene, smoking a cigarette. “Camels, the cigarettes for traveling,” the sign read.
I broke out into a sweat, it couldn’t be so simple, something as basic and predictable as a smoking\-related death, I thought to myself. Not even heroin killed that quickly.
I stumbled along the path, heart racing, eyes flitting back and forth in frantic calculation, confusion and helplessness dogging me the whole way.
I resolved never to even try smoking. I resisted the peer pressure all through the lazy days of 9th and 10th grades. I wouldn’t even drink at parties, much less try any of the harder stuff my friends were getting into. I started eating things called ‘superfoods,’ working out at the gym, drinking probiotic yogurts; but that 85% just kept progressing indelibly forward, refusing to cede to my efforts.
As my 17th birthday came and went, a panic began to build in me. I developed a sort of paranoia, refusing to go out, to stay away from the pollution, turning away friends to avoid tragic diseases like mono, duct\-taping my windows closed to keep out mosquitoes carrying horror\-show maladies like zika and encephalitis. I had my parents slip food in through a special slot on my thrice\-padlocked door, which I then microwaved for 30 minutes to ensure even the most resilient of E.Coli would be obliterated. Everything in my room was wrapped in pillows to avoid tragic falling injuries.
But still, my number marched forward.
As I passed 99%, and the turning of the clock showed no sign of slowing, the fears began to take control of all reason. Maybe it was a genetic sickness, something the doctors never checked for. Maybe my immune system was spiraling into chaos at the lack of working against infections in the air and from company. Maybe it was some organs shutting down from lack of nutrition in my diet.
Thinking about it, I could taste the scurvy in my gums, I could feel the iron deficiencies in my liver, I saw the signs of my kidneys shutting down. I pounded on the door.
“MOM!” I shouted, frantic with fear. “Mom, I need fresh blueberries! I need organic spinach! I need activated almonds! I need raw kale!”
Sweat was pouring down my brow. So, this was how I died, not from smoking but from a stupid vitamin C deficiency. It was so obvious now, the signs plain as day.
The slot on my door opened, my mother’s eyes looked in, tearful and concerned. “Honey, what’s wrong? Here, take these. Honey, won’t you\-\-” she paused, collecting her voice, “won’t you come out? You look so sick.”
Eyes wild in my desperation for salvation, I snatched the raw Kale out of her hands and fell onto it with rabid frenzy. They said sailors could feel the vitamin C as soon as they bit into an orange. Could I feel it now? I couldn’t tell, I must be able to feel it, in my gums, in my liver, in my\-\- I froze in horror.
I let out a disbelieving laugh, then one more, but no air came back. A huge chunk of half chewed, raw Kale was lodged in my throat. I pounded away desperately on my chest with my fists, but nothing. I tried jumping and falling onto my chair, but the pillows just rolled me off onto the floor. In a final, desperate play, I stumbled to the door as my vision began to tunnel. I unlocked the first lock. Then the second. Then I fell to the ground, consumed by the blackness. | I had just turned eighteen years old a couple of months before. I figured I would live to be about a hundred plus so I wasn't really worried. I mean 19% was only one-sixth of my life, right? I dunno, I'm was never that great at math but I know I figure that I had a lot of living to still to do.
My plans were to avoid any potential dangers along the way because, frankly, living another seventy years or so would suck if I spent it in a coma, ya know? Then I felt the light first. Its hard to describe how you can feel light but then I turned and saw the twinking flash high above me. At first I thought it was a nuke going off like in that video game I play but when I wasn't vaporized a minute later I realized it was fine.
After a minute of confusion I looked at my percentage meter and the ground seemed to fall out from under me. How in he hell had it jumped to 85%? Shit. I didn't have a calculator but my math told me I'd be dead sometimes next year! What had just happened to change my meter so drastically.
I started to make plans. I'd have to get some drugs and find a hooker. If I were going out very soon then I was going to have fun on the way out. I wonder if I could pay...
"Michael Ellington?" a voice asked from behind me and I think my percentage meter jumped to 87% just hearing it. It hadn't but damned if I didn't nearly jump into traffic.
I turned and looked into the blue-est (is that a word?) eyes I'd ever seen. "Yeah," I asked, confused as to who, or what, stood before me, "What a-are you?"
"I am a djinn," she said, "I'm sorry to startle you like this. Someone made a wish, you see?"
"Someone made a wish?" I asked, obviously confused.
"Yeah," she replied, ghostly hair wavering in the still city air as if there were some unearthly wind blowing, "She wished for me to bring her her soul mate. Unfortunately for you it's you. Also unfortunately, you were born seventy years before she made the wish."
"So I have to go into the future?" I asked, my brain slowly calibrated to the new situation, "That doesn't sound too bad. I bet they have really good video game systems then."
"Yeah," the djinn said wispily, "Pretty good. Unfortunately," she continued and I was beginning to hate that word, "I cannot adjust your life span." She pointed to my meter.
"I don't want to go!" I protested, "This is unfair!"
"Dude," she said shrugging helplessly, "It's a wish. I *have* to fulfill it, I'm a djinn. The wisher never realizes how much these things inconvenience others."
"Losing 90% of my lifespan is more than inconvenience," I protested weekly.
"Well," she stated, "Are you ready?"
Before I could answer reality sort of slipped and swirled around me and I stood there. I stood in the country side and looked at the woman that stood before me. She was roughly my age and was smiling endearingly. My heart melted then my brain focused on the tentacles coming from her back.
"I'm sure he'll be delicious," she said then giggled at the look of confusion, "Oh, don't worry. You'll really enjoy breeding with me. Since we Darloss only get to do it once I wanted it to be with someone special *and* tasty."
"W-what's going on?" I asked the djinn who was floating there with a sorry look on her face.
"Darloss are an alien species," she shrugged, "They arrived on Earth ten years ago. They only mate once and like spiders..." She couldn't finish.
I looked at my meter. It now read 99.9999%.
| |
[WP] You are the devil's only friend. Today is his birthday. | Maybe you think you have it bad on your birthday. Maybe your friends forgot about you and left you at the bar by yourself, maybe they didn't and you're going to be spending the next three days nursing the most intense hangover of your life. Believe me, whoever you are, you don't have it as rough as a friend of mine. Before I go any further, you should know that he's not like any of my other friends. He's not like any of your friends either. I know it sounds cliche, but he really is just misunderstood, and if you got to know him, he's actually a pretty cool guy.
My friend is the Devil, and today he turns 12,000. The big one-two...zero, zero, zero. It's a much bigger deal than it sounds, trust me.
So the Devil isn't exactly popular with a lot of people. Actually, I'm pretty sure everyone in the known universe thinks he's an asshole, and while I get it, you have to understand that everything that makes him despicable is just a part of his job. For instance, did you know that the Devil is actually an incredibly talented painter? I have some of his stuff hanging in my apartment and it's really quite good! But people don't really see him for that, they only see the whole "fire and brimstone" thing (which was never actually *his* idea).
I don't think he's got a single friend but me, which is definitely sad, but I gotta tell ya, there's some major perks to being friends with Big Red. I mean, last summer I went kayaking with this group I met online, swell bunch of guys, except for this one guy, Travis. Fucking Travis. He stayed back at our rented microbus because "he wasn't feeling well". Three and a half hours later, we're coming back to the dock and Travis drank all of our beer, ate most of our food and was passed out on the roof of the bus. Whole day was ruined. I tell this story to my buddy D and he just snaps his fingers and bam! Travis has chlamydia. I'd have felt bad if it was anyone else, but... fucking Travis, man.
Anyway, not to make a long story even longer, but the ol' Prince o' Darkness has a birthday today and I'm on my way down to surprise him at his office. He's not the type to really care about material gifts, which is good because crossing over to his plane is a bitch of a trip and you can't even bring anything with you. I mean, it's not like he's just downtown, you know? Which explains why I'm sitting here in my bathtub with this toaster. It's the whole suicides go to hell rule, I didn't make it up, I just follow it. Besides, he always gives me a pass and scoots me back upstairs here when I'm done. He really is a good guy, and functional immortality is just one of those perks I was talking about.
Anyway, I'm pretty late so I should be going now. But, before I go, if I could just ask you a huge favor. Next time you see someone who's maybe a little aggressive, or maybe into some weird, slightly sadomasochistic shit, don't be so quick to judge him. Deep down inside, he's probably just a big marshmallow like my buddy, the Devil.
See you on the other side, guys!
*Lights flicker* | Celebrating the Devil's birthday
I laid my fingers on the door handle. The old sweaty metal radiated with cold. Quickly I pulled them away. With my elbow, protected by my jacket's sleeves, I pressed down on the bar and opened the door.
"Hello"
"Ay"
It was pretty dark. A single, irritatingly bright but small lamp stood on his drawer next to the door.
"Happy birthday mate"
"Oi thanks cunt"
There he was, sitting, like most of the times I came to visit. At his desk, doing creative work. I still didn't know what exactly he did there, but it didn't really matter. He was the Devil, after all, I probably wouldn't understand.
"Here"
"A present"
"Yeah"
Quickly he ripped open the paper and opened the box inside.
"Thanks for the fork you know I love me some good forks"
I knew indeed. He had a massive fork collection, but he was always happy to get more. No duplicates though. I looked around his small room, like so many times before fascinated by the overall strangeness of everything. Half the walls were covered by metal shelfs for the forks, the rest by crude and often rather disturbing drawings done on a weird dirty sort of paper. Blood and gore, ugly people, that kinda stuff.
"'lrite I'll have to go"
Reluctantly he let go off his work a second time since I entered the room. He looked at me with half dead eyes, a completely blank facial expression.
"Bye"
"Yeah bye"
I stumbled backwards through the open door and closed behind me. The handle was warm. | |
[WP] You are the devil's only friend. Today is his birthday. | I may be an asshole.
Not the kind of asshole, that would drive a massive, jacked-up pickup truck. More the kind of asshole who thinks he can get away with anything, and so usually does.
Well, one night I'm living large on the town, you know how it is, jumping from pub to pub, grabbing a bit of ass, throwing a few dice. Anyway, as the night nears its peak, I'm playing pool with this spectacular, totally susceptible blonde bombshell and I'm acting like a total prick. I know it, she knows it, hell, the whole damn bar knows it.
It is at this point that everything I thought I knew, comes crumbling down around my well-groomed head.
A man approaches the table, winks each of his mischievous eyes in turn at the blonde, and turns them on me.
"Say, you seem like a good sport." says the man with a wolfish grin. "How about you and me have ourselves a game?"
As I turn to look for the girl, I see she has wandered off. I wonder how long the man in the black suit has been staring at me, but decide he's more interesting anyway. He has the sort of energy that makes your heart start to beat faster, and you don't know why.
I gesture at the table.
"This the sort of game you had in mind?" Knowing full well that he has nothing of the sort planned.
He grins superficially and swiftly pulls two dice from his pocket, flourishing them my way. At once, I realize I am not at all where I thought I was. The green felt on the pool table, is replaced by the green felt of a craps table.
I look up at the man.
"I could have sworn we were in a seedy bar somewhere in the upper East side. Now I'm looking at a gambling table, with a pair of dice in front of me and a cocky smile on your face... You the devil or something?"
His smile falters.
"Well shit." Says the Devil. "Bub was right, I'm losing my touch. Used to be the nights I came out, 10 souls was a low number. Well practice makes perfect, you want to make a deal or not?"
"I never really felt much like dying. Sure, I'll make a deal, but you can fucking bet there's no way I'm throwing those dice down that table."
"Ah, so it's to be a bet is it?"
The Devil smiled, his face brightening.
"I accept. And if I win, I'll take your soul and at least I'll have that today."
"Huh, shoulda saw that one coming. Alright well I'm outta here."
I gave a hearty, sarcastic salute to the Devil and walked towards the door. I knew deep down that he'd never let me leave, but I hoped to buy some time if I could just get outside.
I looked back over my shoulder to see that the Devil was no longer there. Hope blossomed in my chest and I swung my head back towards my target.
Unfortunately for me the door had turned into a large, angry weasel the size of a bear, and it was gunning right for me. I quickly dodged its syringe-like fangs and ran towards the Blackjack table.
The weasel was gaining on me and I was absolutely terrified. Reason had abondoned me to play Poker with Wisdom across the room. As I passed an ice bucket with a bottle of Pol Roger nestled inside, I jammed my hand in and grabbed a fistful of ice, whipping it behind me at the acorn-sized eyes of the rampaging weasel.
All at once, the weasel transformed into a craps table and all but two cubes of the handful of ice I threw disappeared. The remaining cubes turned into dice and tumbled gracelessly onto the felt.
I turned around to see the Devil smiling roguishly at me in front of the craps table, as if we were still discussing the deal.
"Changed your mind did you?" He asked innocently.
"I think you'll find I haven't," I replied. "Maybe you should take another look at those dice, and put your glasses on Old Son, you'd better have another look at me too."
The Devil turned around to find a large slice of cake sitting on the pool table. We were back in the bar. He smiled indulgently and turned back around with a pair of spectacles in his neatly manicured hand. As he put them on I knew he could see past my disguise.
"Kain!" He exclaimed. "I should have known it was you, you wily bastard. You're getting better at illusions. Has Poe been giving you lessons? And how in my Hell did you get here? Last I had heard you'd been imprisoned in Magrathea."
"I was imprisoned, which also explains the illusions. You understand."
"Ah, the time dilation, of course. How long have you been planning this, you gave me these glasses ages ago! 17th century if I remember correctly."
"Yes well, it's not every day the Devil celebrates his 7th Epoch. Now let's go find Bub, he's got to be around here somewhere. Look for that hot blonde I was beating in pool." | Celebrating the Devil's birthday
I laid my fingers on the door handle. The old sweaty metal radiated with cold. Quickly I pulled them away. With my elbow, protected by my jacket's sleeves, I pressed down on the bar and opened the door.
"Hello"
"Ay"
It was pretty dark. A single, irritatingly bright but small lamp stood on his drawer next to the door.
"Happy birthday mate"
"Oi thanks cunt"
There he was, sitting, like most of the times I came to visit. At his desk, doing creative work. I still didn't know what exactly he did there, but it didn't really matter. He was the Devil, after all, I probably wouldn't understand.
"Here"
"A present"
"Yeah"
Quickly he ripped open the paper and opened the box inside.
"Thanks for the fork you know I love me some good forks"
I knew indeed. He had a massive fork collection, but he was always happy to get more. No duplicates though. I looked around his small room, like so many times before fascinated by the overall strangeness of everything. Half the walls were covered by metal shelfs for the forks, the rest by crude and often rather disturbing drawings done on a weird dirty sort of paper. Blood and gore, ugly people, that kinda stuff.
"'lrite I'll have to go"
Reluctantly he let go off his work a second time since I entered the room. He looked at me with half dead eyes, a completely blank facial expression.
"Bye"
"Yeah bye"
I stumbled backwards through the open door and closed behind me. The handle was warm. | |
[WP] You are the devil's only friend. Today is his birthday. | I may be an asshole.
Not the kind of asshole, that would drive a massive, jacked-up pickup truck. More the kind of asshole who thinks he can get away with anything, and so usually does.
Well, one night I'm living large on the town, you know how it is, jumping from pub to pub, grabbing a bit of ass, throwing a few dice. Anyway, as the night nears its peak, I'm playing pool with this spectacular, totally susceptible blonde bombshell and I'm acting like a total prick. I know it, she knows it, hell, the whole damn bar knows it.
It is at this point that everything I thought I knew, comes crumbling down around my well-groomed head.
A man approaches the table, winks each of his mischievous eyes in turn at the blonde, and turns them on me.
"Say, you seem like a good sport." says the man with a wolfish grin. "How about you and me have ourselves a game?"
As I turn to look for the girl, I see she has wandered off. I wonder how long the man in the black suit has been staring at me, but decide he's more interesting anyway. He has the sort of energy that makes your heart start to beat faster, and you don't know why.
I gesture at the table.
"This the sort of game you had in mind?" Knowing full well that he has nothing of the sort planned.
He grins superficially and swiftly pulls two dice from his pocket, flourishing them my way. At once, I realize I am not at all where I thought I was. The green felt on the pool table, is replaced by the green felt of a craps table.
I look up at the man.
"I could have sworn we were in a seedy bar somewhere in the upper East side. Now I'm looking at a gambling table, with a pair of dice in front of me and a cocky smile on your face... You the devil or something?"
His smile falters.
"Well shit." Says the Devil. "Bub was right, I'm losing my touch. Used to be the nights I came out, 10 souls was a low number. Well practice makes perfect, you want to make a deal or not?"
"I never really felt much like dying. Sure, I'll make a deal, but you can fucking bet there's no way I'm throwing those dice down that table."
"Ah, so it's to be a bet is it?"
The Devil smiled, his face brightening.
"I accept. And if I win, I'll take your soul and at least I'll have that today."
"Huh, shoulda saw that one coming. Alright well I'm outta here."
I gave a hearty, sarcastic salute to the Devil and walked towards the door. I knew deep down that he'd never let me leave, but I hoped to buy some time if I could just get outside.
I looked back over my shoulder to see that the Devil was no longer there. Hope blossomed in my chest and I swung my head back towards my target.
Unfortunately for me the door had turned into a large, angry weasel the size of a bear, and it was gunning right for me. I quickly dodged its syringe-like fangs and ran towards the Blackjack table.
The weasel was gaining on me and I was absolutely terrified. Reason had abondoned me to play Poker with Wisdom across the room. As I passed an ice bucket with a bottle of Pol Roger nestled inside, I jammed my hand in and grabbed a fistful of ice, whipping it behind me at the acorn-sized eyes of the rampaging weasel.
All at once, the weasel transformed into a craps table and all but two cubes of the handful of ice I threw disappeared. The remaining cubes turned into dice and tumbled gracelessly onto the felt.
I turned around to see the Devil smiling roguishly at me in front of the craps table, as if we were still discussing the deal.
"Changed your mind did you?" He asked innocently.
"I think you'll find I haven't," I replied. "Maybe you should take another look at those dice, and put your glasses on Old Son, you'd better have another look at me too."
The Devil turned around to find a large slice of cake sitting on the pool table. We were back in the bar. He smiled indulgently and turned back around with a pair of spectacles in his neatly manicured hand. As he put them on I knew he could see past my disguise.
"Kain!" He exclaimed. "I should have known it was you, you wily bastard. You're getting better at illusions. Has Poe been giving you lessons? And how in my Hell did you get here? Last I had heard you'd been imprisoned in Magrathea."
"I was imprisoned, which also explains the illusions. You understand."
"Ah, the time dilation, of course. How long have you been planning this, you gave me these glasses ages ago! 17th century if I remember correctly."
"Yes well, it's not every day the Devil celebrates his 7th Epoch. Now let's go find Bub, he's got to be around here somewhere. Look for that hot blonde I was beating in pool." | Midsummer again. Each year passes more quickly than the last. That's getting old for you.
For those of us who age, anyway.
"How many of these should I be lighting?" I say. The match flares. I touch it to a single candle. Black Forest cake, the same as every year.
"And you call yourself my friend!" Lucifer murmurs with a dramatic sigh.
"Now, now. I can't remember how old I am, either." It's true. The years around the war are patchy. The most recent twenty, a blur. Eighty-something? Am I ninety already? Of the few memories of my parents I still have, none of them contain a clue to a birth year. Birth records, burnt to ash long ago, with everything else.
"Eighty-eight."
"Leave it to you..." I cut a slice for each of us. I remember noticing Lucifer's fondness for cherries the first time we met. He was plucking them from the ruins of my uncle's cherry tree. I made the cake for him that first year, and have brought it a step closer to perfection every year since. The recipe has won the Cake International twice.
I sit down across from my guest. It's a pleasant evening, warm, the summer rains have made my garden lush, the birds are singing their brilliant and desperate songs. I take a bite of chocolate and cherry and it tastes like water. I cough and try again. This version is meant to be the best yet.
I frown; I can taste nothing. The songs recede into the distance. The leaves in the garden blur and blend together, as if I am falling past them. My chest feels tight and my breath wheezes. Now? The candle flame jumps back and forth. Next to it I see Lucifer's plate, the cake untouched, his hands folded. Calm.
"Is it time?" I say, choking out each word. My hand clutches the fork; my slice of cake has capsized.
"Yes." The hands stay folded. Maybe the blurriness is tears. Finally. It's been a long life, longer than it should have been.
"Take it then. You... have earned it."
Emerging from my uncle's cellar into a smoking wasteland. The town hall still on fire. The beautiful trees blackened and twisted. The beautiful people... A man standing under the cherry tree, picking the last living fruit. Not in uniform, not a German. His surprise. Someone still alive here? Barely. The smoke has seared my throat, I am breathing in flames. He gives me a cherry and the pain eases away. The physical pain. Who are we when we have no one? What is one human alone? This is not solitude, it is erasure.
"You owe me nothing," Lucifer says, sitting at my garden table.
"But... the deal. The... promise."
"You gave me your soul in return for a true friend."
To not be alone. To have someone who can't be taken away.
"You have been that." I can no longer distinguish the candle from the trees from the sky. Everything swirls together. He has been that. Whatever he has been elsewhere, to other people, Lucifer has been a true friend to me all my long stolen life.
The swirl of colours and shapes flips itself over. I'm lying in the dirt. The clang of the chair toppling arrives at my ears. I try to say, take it, old friend, but my mouth no longer forms words.
Lucifer's hand touches my temple, I think. Either that or the wind.
"A true friend wouldn't take your soul," he says. "I keep my bargains to the letter. Hell is well-populated. Go be with your people."
So I do. | |
[WP] You are the devil's only friend. Today is his birthday. | I may be an asshole.
Not the kind of asshole, that would drive a massive, jacked-up pickup truck. More the kind of asshole who thinks he can get away with anything, and so usually does.
Well, one night I'm living large on the town, you know how it is, jumping from pub to pub, grabbing a bit of ass, throwing a few dice. Anyway, as the night nears its peak, I'm playing pool with this spectacular, totally susceptible blonde bombshell and I'm acting like a total prick. I know it, she knows it, hell, the whole damn bar knows it.
It is at this point that everything I thought I knew, comes crumbling down around my well-groomed head.
A man approaches the table, winks each of his mischievous eyes in turn at the blonde, and turns them on me.
"Say, you seem like a good sport." says the man with a wolfish grin. "How about you and me have ourselves a game?"
As I turn to look for the girl, I see she has wandered off. I wonder how long the man in the black suit has been staring at me, but decide he's more interesting anyway. He has the sort of energy that makes your heart start to beat faster, and you don't know why.
I gesture at the table.
"This the sort of game you had in mind?" Knowing full well that he has nothing of the sort planned.
He grins superficially and swiftly pulls two dice from his pocket, flourishing them my way. At once, I realize I am not at all where I thought I was. The green felt on the pool table, is replaced by the green felt of a craps table.
I look up at the man.
"I could have sworn we were in a seedy bar somewhere in the upper East side. Now I'm looking at a gambling table, with a pair of dice in front of me and a cocky smile on your face... You the devil or something?"
His smile falters.
"Well shit." Says the Devil. "Bub was right, I'm losing my touch. Used to be the nights I came out, 10 souls was a low number. Well practice makes perfect, you want to make a deal or not?"
"I never really felt much like dying. Sure, I'll make a deal, but you can fucking bet there's no way I'm throwing those dice down that table."
"Ah, so it's to be a bet is it?"
The Devil smiled, his face brightening.
"I accept. And if I win, I'll take your soul and at least I'll have that today."
"Huh, shoulda saw that one coming. Alright well I'm outta here."
I gave a hearty, sarcastic salute to the Devil and walked towards the door. I knew deep down that he'd never let me leave, but I hoped to buy some time if I could just get outside.
I looked back over my shoulder to see that the Devil was no longer there. Hope blossomed in my chest and I swung my head back towards my target.
Unfortunately for me the door had turned into a large, angry weasel the size of a bear, and it was gunning right for me. I quickly dodged its syringe-like fangs and ran towards the Blackjack table.
The weasel was gaining on me and I was absolutely terrified. Reason had abondoned me to play Poker with Wisdom across the room. As I passed an ice bucket with a bottle of Pol Roger nestled inside, I jammed my hand in and grabbed a fistful of ice, whipping it behind me at the acorn-sized eyes of the rampaging weasel.
All at once, the weasel transformed into a craps table and all but two cubes of the handful of ice I threw disappeared. The remaining cubes turned into dice and tumbled gracelessly onto the felt.
I turned around to see the Devil smiling roguishly at me in front of the craps table, as if we were still discussing the deal.
"Changed your mind did you?" He asked innocently.
"I think you'll find I haven't," I replied. "Maybe you should take another look at those dice, and put your glasses on Old Son, you'd better have another look at me too."
The Devil turned around to find a large slice of cake sitting on the pool table. We were back in the bar. He smiled indulgently and turned back around with a pair of spectacles in his neatly manicured hand. As he put them on I knew he could see past my disguise.
"Kain!" He exclaimed. "I should have known it was you, you wily bastard. You're getting better at illusions. Has Poe been giving you lessons? And how in my Hell did you get here? Last I had heard you'd been imprisoned in Magrathea."
"I was imprisoned, which also explains the illusions. You understand."
"Ah, the time dilation, of course. How long have you been planning this, you gave me these glasses ages ago! 17th century if I remember correctly."
"Yes well, it's not every day the Devil celebrates his 7th Epoch. Now let's go find Bub, he's got to be around here somewhere. Look for that hot blonde I was beating in pool." | Maybe you think you have it bad on your birthday. Maybe your friends forgot about you and left you at the bar by yourself, maybe they didn't and you're going to be spending the next three days nursing the most intense hangover of your life. Believe me, whoever you are, you don't have it as rough as a friend of mine. Before I go any further, you should know that he's not like any of my other friends. He's not like any of your friends either. I know it sounds cliche, but he really is just misunderstood, and if you got to know him, he's actually a pretty cool guy.
My friend is the Devil, and today he turns 12,000. The big one-two...zero, zero, zero. It's a much bigger deal than it sounds, trust me.
So the Devil isn't exactly popular with a lot of people. Actually, I'm pretty sure everyone in the known universe thinks he's an asshole, and while I get it, you have to understand that everything that makes him despicable is just a part of his job. For instance, did you know that the Devil is actually an incredibly talented painter? I have some of his stuff hanging in my apartment and it's really quite good! But people don't really see him for that, they only see the whole "fire and brimstone" thing (which was never actually *his* idea).
I don't think he's got a single friend but me, which is definitely sad, but I gotta tell ya, there's some major perks to being friends with Big Red. I mean, last summer I went kayaking with this group I met online, swell bunch of guys, except for this one guy, Travis. Fucking Travis. He stayed back at our rented microbus because "he wasn't feeling well". Three and a half hours later, we're coming back to the dock and Travis drank all of our beer, ate most of our food and was passed out on the roof of the bus. Whole day was ruined. I tell this story to my buddy D and he just snaps his fingers and bam! Travis has chlamydia. I'd have felt bad if it was anyone else, but... fucking Travis, man.
Anyway, not to make a long story even longer, but the ol' Prince o' Darkness has a birthday today and I'm on my way down to surprise him at his office. He's not the type to really care about material gifts, which is good because crossing over to his plane is a bitch of a trip and you can't even bring anything with you. I mean, it's not like he's just downtown, you know? Which explains why I'm sitting here in my bathtub with this toaster. It's the whole suicides go to hell rule, I didn't make it up, I just follow it. Besides, he always gives me a pass and scoots me back upstairs here when I'm done. He really is a good guy, and functional immortality is just one of those perks I was talking about.
Anyway, I'm pretty late so I should be going now. But, before I go, if I could just ask you a huge favor. Next time you see someone who's maybe a little aggressive, or maybe into some weird, slightly sadomasochistic shit, don't be so quick to judge him. Deep down inside, he's probably just a big marshmallow like my buddy, the Devil.
See you on the other side, guys!
*Lights flicker* | |
[WP] You are the devil's only friend. Today is his birthday. | I was nervous as I approached the front door or my friend's house, making sure the folder in my hands was still there. And of course it still was, I hadn't dropped it nor lost it nor misplaced it the other fifteen hundred times I checked. I know, I know, I need to chill. But still, I couldn't help it! I was both excited and fearful. Did I know what I was getting myself into? Probably not. Oh well, guess we'll find out.
Luci opened the door a few seconds after I knocked. He never expected any visitors other than me or the annoying neighborhood kids that came to egg, TP, and/or graffiti his house with colorful words and various sizes of male genitalia. Then again, it's not surprising to assume that the devil is not well liked. Yet his exasperated expression told me he was too busy to care.
"Oh, hey. I wasn't expecting you around today.", Lucifer said slightly surprised, but stepping aside to let me in anyway.
"Swamped with work again?", I asked as a reply, pushing the door closed behind me.
"Yeah...", he said, scratching the back of his head and sitting down at his desk among stacks and stacks of papers, contracts of people who had sold their soul to him over the centuries. Most of them were obviously dead by now, but it was hard to run hell by yourself so it was expected that he'd have a bit of a backlog. Though a bit is an understatement, clearly.
"Welp, guess I'm not gonna be of any help then.", I said, walking over to him and dropping the folder in my hands on top of what he was working on at the moment, "I got another one for ya."
"Another soul?", Lucifer replied seemingly more annoyed than before.
"Yep.", I said, rocking on my heels.
"Damn you...", he said to me as he opened the folder and quickly eyed it over. Suddenly he stopped, taking off his glasses and looking up at me confused.
"Damn me.", I said with a nervous smile.
"This is...", he said shocked, turning to look back at the contract in his hands to make sure he read correctly.
"A signed contract for my soul, yes.", I quickly reassured him.
He turned back to me with an even bigger shocked face. Who would've known that the devil could still be surprised?
"But... But why?", he said, his voice suddenly taking a sharp tone, "Why would you do this? What's wrong with you?! You know this contract can't be broken once it's been signed with blood!"
"I know.", I said, somehow feeling a lot calmer now.
"For fuck's sake...", he said running his hands through his head where his hair should be if he had any, "Why?!"
"Because...", I shrugged, "It's your birthday."
"I know it's my birthday! Yay! I get my only friend's soul, damn him to hell forever, woo.", he said sarcastically.
"Exactly!"
He looked at me like I was stupid, and maybe I was. But this was truly the best thing I could give him. There is nothing more precious to the devil than souls. It's what he lived for.
"Jesus Christ...", he said, making it the most ironic thing to be said in existence, ever.
"I can explain.", I said.
"Please do! Cause I still don't know what you're thinking!", he said throwing his arms into the air before folding them across his chest.
"Well...", I took a deep breath and collected my thoughts before saying, "I'm mortal and you're not. You said yourself that I'm your only friend!"
"What does that have to do with anything?", he spoke.
"Once I die, whenever that may be, I'm gone. You'll lose me forever...", I said softly, a small twinge of sadness trying to pry its way through. I held it back, looking up at Luci only to see his face soften as realization seeped in.
"But if you sell yout soul to me...", he said, his arms dropping to his sides now, "It's mine to keep forever."
I smiled and nodded, "So you'll never be alone again."
Lucifer's lips slowly pulled into a smile. Out of everything that people asked for when signing their contracts to the devil, no one had ever been as selfless. It was clear to me that Lucifer was not, in a billion years, expecting this to happen. Who wants to be friends with the bad guy?
He quickly took a step towards me, closing the distance between us and hugging me tightly.
"Happy Birthday, Luci.", I said, returning the embrace. And as we stood there, for the first time in my life, and probably in his own life, the devil cried. | Nobody’s the villain in their own story. I remember my mom saying that after Billy McIntyre locked me in the bathroom at school for wearing red shoes, and it’s always stuck with me. I believe no one wakes up in the morning thinking: “How can I be as downright evil, as criminally villainous as I can possibly be today.” So with that in mind I clicked “Going” on the Facebook invite.
You could see he’d put some work into the event page too, cover photo’s and all, which kind of made me feel sorry for him. Especially since I seemed to be the only one who’d replied so far. “Come join me, as we celebrate my 666th (winky face) birthday!” This is the third straight year he’s used that joke.
“The devil’s birthday” sounds like a satanic rave, but I doubt it’s going to be that fun.
“Look, how and why I met him is really none of your business. Just know that he is real and just kind of… don’t mention it.”
Francis is the only friend I have crazy enough to come with me. The invite said “+1s welcome”, so… He’s up for anything, Francis. They dared him to go to North Korea as a summer holiday last year. He’d gotten all his shots and made three trips to the embassy before they told him he couldn’t. So when you’re looking for a plus one to what might be the weirdest party you’ll ever go to: Francis is your guy. The address was only a couple blocks from my appartment, so we decided to walk there.
“No way in hell are you getting off that easy, dude.” Francis grins at his own pun. “How the fuck do you know the devil. The real, actual, fallen-angel, Satan-J.-Beelzebub Devil”
“It’s… a crazy long story. But I guess the gist of it is.. Do you remember that time like, two or three years ago? I was really struggling with the whole quitting my job and becoming a musician thing, and I went to my grandparents to kind of center myself?”
“Yeah sure. Florida or something?”
“Georgia, but yeah. I was taking a walk around dusk, cause there’s absolutely nothing to do there after mid-afternoon bingo. And I ran into this dude, dressed in black. Mysterious-looking, you know? I know that’s a cliché, but that’s what it was.” I don’t even know why I’m trying to explain this to him. He was never going to believe me.
“Alright, sure, and you’re thinking: hey, random street-businessman, let’s be friends!”
“No it wasn’t like that. He made me.. well. He made me an offer.”
“You are fucking kidding me. Did he… did he take advantage of you, James?” Francis is almost falling over laughing at this point.
“NOT LIKE THAT, you dope. He said I could trade my.. whatever. The less you know about it the better actually. Look, we’re here. Just.. You’ll see when you get in there.”
He greeted us at the door. Still every bit as imposing as that night I first met him. I sheepishly say hi and hand him a sloppily wrapped present. It’s a bible that I wrote “Happy Birthday from your friend Jesus” in. Thought he’d get a kick out of that. We talked over the years, mostly on-line, so I knew he had a wicked sense of humor about these things.
“Why thank you, James. And I see you’ve brought a friend!” He turns toward Francis and extends a hand.
“Greetings, My name is Lucifer”
That’s when Francis turned catatonic. Later he would tell me that when he looked in Lucifer’s eyes he saw the death of everyone he’d ever know. It terrified him so much that he lost all ability to function.
“Ah yes.” Lucifer shrugs it off. “That does happen sometimes. No matter, just walk him in, sit him down somewhere inside. He should be all right in an hour or so.”
I kind of weekend-at-bernie’s Francis along through the hallway and find him a chair. Waving my hand in front of his eyes got no response.
“Have you been here before, James? Shall I give you the grand tour?” He walks out in front of me and nonchalantly points to rooms while describing their function. The place was a lot bigger than it looked from the outside. Every room seemed set-up to accommodate huge amounts of people, like Jay Gatsby himself had done the party planning, but we seemed to be the only ones here.
“Are we.. early?”. I stammer out. It’s only afterwards that I remembered the lack of rsvp’s on Facebook. Lucifer turns to face me, the confidence in his eyes now completely replaced with something I recognise as social anxiety.
“No James. You are not. I’m afraid that I’m not as popular as I once was. There’s always some satanists I could call, but who wants to hang out with those freaks. No I decided that we’d have a more respectable get-together this time around, but it seems…”
He looks around despondently, gestures for me to sit in a black leather couch, and takes a seat opposite. “It seems that I am no longer respectable myself.”
“I’ve made deals and trades with thousands of your people over the years. And while they may call me selfish and greedy, it seems that all of them didn’t care to stay in touch.” He looks up at me.
“Well. Almost all of them. It seems that my style of doing things is no longer appreciated. I am a little too… old-school is the term, I believe. So I have decided to move on. This was to be my last hurrah, my goodbye party.” He gestures around the empty living room. “But I have overstayed my welcome as it is, it seems. Now. There is still a need of my services up here, that much hasn’t changed, but I don’t think I can bring myself to it anymore. So.. with that in mind: James, how would you like a job?” | |
[WP] You are the devil's only friend. Today is his birthday. | I was nervous as I approached the front door or my friend's house, making sure the folder in my hands was still there. And of course it still was, I hadn't dropped it nor lost it nor misplaced it the other fifteen hundred times I checked. I know, I know, I need to chill. But still, I couldn't help it! I was both excited and fearful. Did I know what I was getting myself into? Probably not. Oh well, guess we'll find out.
Luci opened the door a few seconds after I knocked. He never expected any visitors other than me or the annoying neighborhood kids that came to egg, TP, and/or graffiti his house with colorful words and various sizes of male genitalia. Then again, it's not surprising to assume that the devil is not well liked. Yet his exasperated expression told me he was too busy to care.
"Oh, hey. I wasn't expecting you around today.", Lucifer said slightly surprised, but stepping aside to let me in anyway.
"Swamped with work again?", I asked as a reply, pushing the door closed behind me.
"Yeah...", he said, scratching the back of his head and sitting down at his desk among stacks and stacks of papers, contracts of people who had sold their soul to him over the centuries. Most of them were obviously dead by now, but it was hard to run hell by yourself so it was expected that he'd have a bit of a backlog. Though a bit is an understatement, clearly.
"Welp, guess I'm not gonna be of any help then.", I said, walking over to him and dropping the folder in my hands on top of what he was working on at the moment, "I got another one for ya."
"Another soul?", Lucifer replied seemingly more annoyed than before.
"Yep.", I said, rocking on my heels.
"Damn you...", he said to me as he opened the folder and quickly eyed it over. Suddenly he stopped, taking off his glasses and looking up at me confused.
"Damn me.", I said with a nervous smile.
"This is...", he said shocked, turning to look back at the contract in his hands to make sure he read correctly.
"A signed contract for my soul, yes.", I quickly reassured him.
He turned back to me with an even bigger shocked face. Who would've known that the devil could still be surprised?
"But... But why?", he said, his voice suddenly taking a sharp tone, "Why would you do this? What's wrong with you?! You know this contract can't be broken once it's been signed with blood!"
"I know.", I said, somehow feeling a lot calmer now.
"For fuck's sake...", he said running his hands through his head where his hair should be if he had any, "Why?!"
"Because...", I shrugged, "It's your birthday."
"I know it's my birthday! Yay! I get my only friend's soul, damn him to hell forever, woo.", he said sarcastically.
"Exactly!"
He looked at me like I was stupid, and maybe I was. But this was truly the best thing I could give him. There is nothing more precious to the devil than souls. It's what he lived for.
"Jesus Christ...", he said, making it the most ironic thing to be said in existence, ever.
"I can explain.", I said.
"Please do! Cause I still don't know what you're thinking!", he said throwing his arms into the air before folding them across his chest.
"Well...", I took a deep breath and collected my thoughts before saying, "I'm mortal and you're not. You said yourself that I'm your only friend!"
"What does that have to do with anything?", he spoke.
"Once I die, whenever that may be, I'm gone. You'll lose me forever...", I said softly, a small twinge of sadness trying to pry its way through. I held it back, looking up at Luci only to see his face soften as realization seeped in.
"But if you sell yout soul to me...", he said, his arms dropping to his sides now, "It's mine to keep forever."
I smiled and nodded, "So you'll never be alone again."
Lucifer's lips slowly pulled into a smile. Out of everything that people asked for when signing their contracts to the devil, no one had ever been as selfless. It was clear to me that Lucifer was not, in a billion years, expecting this to happen. Who wants to be friends with the bad guy?
He quickly took a step towards me, closing the distance between us and hugging me tightly.
"Happy Birthday, Luci.", I said, returning the embrace. And as we stood there, for the first time in my life, and probably in his own life, the devil cried. | I stood on the street looking at the decrepit house on the other side. I stared at it for I don't know how long, spending all that time preparing myself for the sight I was to gaze upon. Unsure of myself, unsure of what would happen once I was inside. In the end, I began walking towards the house, for there was nothing else that was there to be done, the devil needed me, and I needed him.
As I opened the door and stepped inside, all the noise from outside the house seemed to have disappeared as if I had stepped into a completely different world. Strangely enough, the air felt the same, looking back, the view was as expected, nothing seemed to have changed, and yet that one detail told me this place was different.
The house itself looked as normal as an old house like that could look, filled with worn furniture, in need of ten coatings of paint before it could even hope to be given consideration for renovation. An exception to the rule of change that had been overlooked for the moment.
In that house before me there was one exceptional thing, for there in a chair sat an old man, he looked like he must have been in his 80's, he had a birthday cap on, his teeth looked fresh as ever, and his hair was white as snow, reaching down to cover his shoulders.
The devil, a lone figure in that room, a being half a day older than the birth of the universe, looking like he was waiting for this to be over with.
I walked over to him and I whispered," Happy birthday."
He did not even take the time to raise his head and look at me, but from the sigh that I heard coming from him, I knew that he was aware of my presence.
I took the package that I had been carrying in my arm, and gently placed it on the table, and opened it. In it was a small piece of cake. " An offering to you, I said."
It was at this point that the devil raised his head to meet my gaze. In his eyes I saw infinity, I saw something that had existed beyond time. In those eyes I saw worlds burn, collapse, and be reborn. In those eyes, I saw sorrow, and in that moment I felt pity.
"I thought we were friends." He spoke.
"We are." I replied," But I cannot risk you saying no for this one. I know you would have helped me, but I couldn't risk it."
"I would never have helped you if I could help it." He replied.
"Well, so you see the need for this." I said with a sense of justification seeping through my voice.
He stared at me for a few more moments, and in his stare I felt the weight of judgement over my soul. I shivered. "You know." He spoke," I was made with one purpose."
The world around me seemed to turn a lot darker as he said this, the air felt light, soon enough I could barely see beyond that dinner table. Around me I could hear a sound that I could only describe as wood disintegrating.
"That purpose", he continued," Was to protect people. To save them from the worst of themselves. To lock it away and guard over it."
At this moment I could feel sweat pouring down my forehead, I knew this is the end for me.
"Everything I did, I did as God had ordered me to do. Everything I did, I did to make things better. I suffered, lifetimes I suffered that you couldn't even count. That was my duty that I swore to uphold." He said.
At this point I could feel the weight of the air around me. I knew something was going to happen at this very moment.
At last, the air seemed to pop, and in the blink of an eye I found myself back in a decrepit old house with an old man wearing a birthday cap.
"Yet they hated me, and yet here you are, dare I say it, a friend. Maybe they do deserve you." With these final words he took a bite out of my offering and began chewing in the manner of someone who found no joy in what they were doing.
I decided to not risk anymore and facing him throughout, I walked backwards towards the door and exited.
At last I gave out a sigh of relief, knowing that my sins were excused, that my sloppiness and my mistakes were redeemed, knowing that my friend would never let the people find out where I had hidden the body.
I walked away with the words praise the devil upon my lips. | |
[WP] A man has lived far beyond his time, and was meant to die years ago. But every time the Reaper came, the man was in the middle of something so interesting, that Death did not want to interrupt him. | Death knew what he was doing was unnatural. When its time for someone to go, its Deaths job to escort them. Those were the rules, but... but who was really there to stop Death? There was Life, but Life wouldn't argue against Death stalling the departure of one of her precious creations. There was no god, no natural order, just Life and Death, eternal, and so very bored. And then there were the humans. Life and Death had very different opinions about them. Life cherished them, loved her creations so much. She knew it must happen, but she still resented her creatures mortal lifespans, how they withered and died. She resented Death for his part it it. Death was a non-entity on the subject. He did not love them, he did not hate them. They were there on the earth, and when their souls were ready to be harvested, he did his job. There were no emotions, no second thoughts, no tears.
No interest.
The mortals were utterly and excruciatingly naive. And boring. Compared to Death, they had no knowledge, no life experience. They were like children, even the ones who lived to a century. So Death could not care a single bit about the mortals. At least he didn't think he could. But then...
There is a man. When Death goes to reap his soul, he is... distracted. Which is not something he can say has happened to him very often. The man, so very scared, but so very brave, fights against his death. Fights against Death. He is on a cliffside, holding on by his fingertips, trying to heave himself back on the ledge. Atop that ledge, sits a bleeding child. The child is sure to bleed out without help, and Death can feel that there are only two people in the vicinity. The child and the man on the cliff.
Death does not feel sympathy. Death does not make mistakes. But this... this must be a mistake. Because it is the mans time, but not the child. And the child will die without the man.
Death does not make exceptions.
He doesn't, but he decides it won't hurt to see where this goes. So he settles himself on the side of the cliff, overlooking a fatal fall. And he waits. He watches as the man pulls himself back onto the ledge. Watches as the man heals the child with amateur tools. Follows as the man carries the child from the cliff, back to the nearest town. Death realizes that the man is past his time. His soul should have been reaped at the bottom of that cliff.
Death does not make mistakes and he doesn't make exceptions. No matter what. But, Death figures that a little more time wouldn't hurt. Death fades into the dark right as the man looks into the space where Death once was.
~~~
It happens again. Death cannot help himself. This intriguing man, slowly losing his youth to time he should not have, should be gone ten times over. But every time, Death sees him, he is... He is more real to Death than humanity has been in a long time. Death has not revealed himself, but he knows the mortal knows he is there. Not what he is, or what he's there for, just that he is there. Waiting. Watching.
Life questions his motives, his reasons for denying this man his end.
Death does not have an answer.
The man is tired now, after living so many years, through so many trials. Death would take him, but theres something stopping him. Something almost like longing. If Death does take his soul to the underworld, Death would not see him again. Death does not exist in Life, nor in the underworld. He is between. He does not want to lose the first thing that has sparked his interest in so long.
~~~
The man dies eventually. After years, after centuries, Death has mercy on him. The man is so tired now, his bones creak in the wind and he has withered. Death is no less interested, no less intrigued, but the man has passed his time too far. So Death finds him lying in a bed, breathing heavy, and Death raises his scythe. He brings it down with no hesitation, and the last breath the man took rushes out as a relieved sigh.
Then suddenly, this man, this mortal is standing next to him, his youth regained in death. Death looks at the man. The man looks around for a minute before settling on Death. The man does not speak but Death hears him anyway. Hears the words hidden in the shadows, sees the recognition in the mans eyes. Death knows that this man already knows who he is.
Death doesn't make mistakes. He doesn't make exceptions.
The next day, the man is gone and Death continues to do what he knows he must. For eternity. | Slithering in the Winter wind, beyond the vision of all creatures, and existing before time: the embodiment and spirit of death, the visage under skin, changed its cosmic focus once again-- which is to say in our limited tongue or language, made its way once again, to the man it could not help but spare. Its "eye" swirled around his house, today would be the day, no more waiting.. it had to be.
But dread gripped death as it saw.. felt.. the click of a record button on a camera.
"Hey everybody welcome to the Colin Furze 300th birthday show! You asked for it, you got it! Let's put a flamethrower and an icethrower on a sex robot's nipples, then outfit it with a stereo and a jetpack and have it travel topless across England while blasting The Sex Pistols!" | |
[WP] You see the same person waiting at the train station every morning, as you walk past. Only, the train station has been closed since as long as you can remember. Today, you decide to talk to them. | I see him everyday on my way to the metro. This train station, where they frequently linger, has long since been abandoned from as far as I can remember. It wasn't apparent that they were vagrant, since he wore nice clothes, a messenger cap with a blue vest over his long-sleeves most of the time, and seems to read the newspaper and possesses a luggage bag half my size. Maybe it's time to check what her deal is. It's my day off anyways.
"Hello there." I said to this mysterious person.
***"GENERAL KENOBI!"*** *she* replied, in a loud, garbled voice, loudly crumpling the newspaper she held. She startled me, which ended up with me jumping backwards, almost falling over.
"Oh I'm sorry!" she said, putting away her newspaper, placing it over her luggage. In all the time I've been passing by here, noticing *her*, it never crossed my mind she was a woman.
"Don't worry," I replied, fixing myself after probably looking like a fool. "I'm fine." reassuring her, smiling. Hopefully I didn't look to creepy.
"Come," she said, patting the bench she's sitting. "sit with me." She moved to the side of the bench, inviting me over.
"So," I said, sitting beside her. "what brings you to this place almost everyday?" I asked, turning my head towards her.
"Oh nothing, just --" she replied, looking ahead. "--admiring the view I guess."
"But there's nothing here but an apartment complex and the diner." I replied. I mean there really was nothing here. The local park had been closed for 7 years now, with the children's playground abandoned and overgrown with weeds. Any sort of scenery was, in my opinion, 6 blocks away, crossing the bridge.
"I also check for anachronisms every once in awhile." she said.
"What's that?"
"Oh, don't worry. It's nothing you need to concern yourself with." she reassured me, placing her hand over mine.
"So," she continued. "I apologize for what happened awhile ago. I pegged you for someone who liked *Star Wars* memes."
"What's a *Star Wars*? Or a *meme* for that matter?" I asked. I knew nothing of what she was talking about.
"Oh, sorry. I guess it's something you haven't heard of yet." she replied. Her watch started making a beeping noise, which I too was unfamiliar with.
"I'm sorry." she said as she stood up. "I have to go. An appointment, you see."
"Ah, then it's best you get going." I said, looking up at her.
"It was nice talking to you." she said, smiling while pulling her trolley. "I hope I get to see you again." she said, before walking away.
"Same time tomorrow?" I asked, smiling.
"Sure." she replied, with a smirk on her face. I looked at her while she walked away from me, crossing the street and into an alleyway.
"Well old boy," I said to myself, pulling out a notebook of reminders I'd always carry. "*See her again, tomorrow. 8 o'clock. June 20th, 1970.*" I wrote in my notebook.
*I really hoped I'd meet her again.*
 
*Feedback and criticism much appreciated* | "I see you here every day," I told him.
"I'm always around," he replied in a voice that creaked out of his jagged smile.
"Don't look like the train's comin'," I continued, unsure of even why I had stopped to chat this morning.
"Well, it'll get here when it does. As things do."
I turned my head, half a step away from the waste of time when something popped. Just over my shoulder and right behind my ear, something like a cap-gun from the Saturday westerns I'd seen as a kid. Warmth enveloped me like a thick blanket fresh out of the dryer or a roaring fire at my back and I paused in my stride,lost in memory so strong I could taste it. Summer afternoons on the water, where the wind whipped the spray off the bow and through my hair.
I turned back, sure I had to *something* but for the life of me unable to discern *what*.
A train was waiting, all blackened steel and polished chrome and brass. The whistle blew, last call before departure.
I waved goodbye as the ferryman, still standing there at the defunct station, faded into the distance.
*end*
| |
[WP] As far as you can remember the five of you have been best friends. One day while hanging out you bump your head, but as you wake up you see your friends for who they really are. The Four Horsemen of the Apocolypse | "I'm just saying," Helen says, "just because a bunch of damn 'doctors' says it's right doesn't mean you should vaccinate your kids. I don't care if there's a measles outbreak, Brakayleigh and Paydinne aren't getting any of those damn 'shots.'" She swipes some of her bleach-blonde hair, darkening at the roots, behind her ear.
Out of nowhere, Janet slamms her glass down on the table. "You're a fucking idiot, Helen! God, I can't stand any of you!"
"Yeah, like *you're* an expert, Miss Twenty Times Divorced," Helen snaps. Janet gets like this a lot; we're all used to it by now. "Why do you always have to cause drama!?"
"Oh, it's not *me* causing drama, it's the lot of you acting like absolute morons all the time! You're all wrong! You're all dipshits!" Janet bares her teeth.
"Yeah, okay," I interrupted. "Can the both of you just shut up? I feel like every Sunday brunch ends like this. Can't we just all, like, relax and have some mimosas after yoga?"
Carol shrugs. "Eh, just let them fight." She settles back in her chair, eyes oddly dim, face strangely gaunt.
Breaking the silence, Rhonda pipes up. "Have you heard about my water cleanse? Makkenzy-lynne has lost, like, twelve pounds. I'm honestly so proud of her."
"Ugh, jealous," I say, poking at my stomach. After three kids, I wasn't really the skinniest I'd ever been. "How old is Makkenzy-lynne again?"
"She's almost sixteen," Rhonda says. "I'm trying to get her to drop a few more pounds by her birthday. I mean, girl's gotta look her best for her sweet sixteen."
"She looks fine to me," I shrug. "I mean, she can't be any heavier than my own Brittney."
"Ugh," Rhonda sneers. "One hundred pounds is far too much for a teenage girl. I weighed seventy pounds!"
I cock an eyebrow. "That doesn't sound healthy."
"Speaking of health," Helen interjects, "there have been *so* many cases of flu at the clinic. I'm literally so worried about Paydinne, he's a sensitive boy-"
"I mean," I say, "you could just get him a flu shot." For a nurse, Helen was strangely against standardly accepted medical advice.
"Maybe he should just get the flu," she sighs. "You know, strengthen up his immune system a bit."
Carol readily agrees. "Paydinne should get the flu. *Swine* flu. And Makkenzy-lynne looks like an absolute cow, she needs to lose more weight- how will she ever fit in that pretty little dress you bought her at a hundred whole pounds?"
"Paydinne just doesn't eat enough quinoa," Helen says. Her teeth are blackened in the front. She hasn't eaten anything today, I notice, but has been chewing on ice from her cup. Sometimes I worry about her kids. Helen can be so odd- once I brought orange slices to soccer practice and she threw an absolute fit about GMOs. But whatever. Her husband was a nutritionist, so I figured she had to know what she was on about.
"All of your kids are spoiled brats," Janet interrupts.
"Ex*cuse* me," I say, "Brittany is an angel, and Tammy may be in her angsty teen phase, but she's a total sweetheart, and Aiden is an adorable little boy-"
"No one cares about your kids, Karen," Janet replies bitterly, lighting a cigarette.
I groan. "Why do you have to be so needlessly contrary all the time? You're so volatile-"
"*Volatile," she sneers. "Know-it-all, just because *you* married a doctor-"
"Doctors are liars," Helen says. "The lot of them. I know what's best for my kids, not some doofus in a lab coat-"
"You're an idiot too," Janet says. "I hate you all." Then, changing gears completely, "Hey, Karen, did you hear what Rhonda said about you?"
Rhonda sighs. "Do you really have to spread all this gossip? All I said was that she could lose a couple stone-"
"Yeah," I say, "quit it with the rumors. You're worse than Tammy and she's 14-"
"Oh, never mind." Janet sinks sulkily back into her seat, but now Rhonda looks insulted, and to be honest, I kind of am, too. I mean, again, I'm a supermodel, but neither are they- and who are the moms from Sunday morning mommy group to judge? I swirl my mimosa. Carol looks at me and Rhonda, almost satisfied, her irises empty and black like voids. Carol is unnerving. I never liked her much, but she's the one who organizes the Sunday mom group brunches.
Helen and Rhonda return to aimlessly chattering about health again, doctors and what they do and how they're squeezing innocent mommies out of money. I did marry a doctor, but he's been overseas for a while now- ever since Brittney graduated, he'd been out of the country. He's a plague doctor, I joke, some sort of epidemiologist whose official title I could never remember. I was never into science.
We sit in quietude for a while, as we eat and Rhonda crunches ice, when Helen's daughter comes running up to the table. "Mom, I don't feel so well."
Brakayleigh is thinner than I remember, and definitely feverish, but Helen glances at her before declaring her fine. "Honey, you're so dramatic."
"Mama," she says, "I really, really don't-"
She's interrupted by a series of hacking coughs, and red saliva sprays out onto her arm, staining her white top.
"Stop being ridiculous." Helen sips her mimosa. "Someone has to drive your father to the airport, and he can't do it himself." Her husband had been paralyzed years ago, some virus that started with a P, I think. "Speaking of Tom, have you heard anything from Bill lately, Karen?"
I think. I actually haven't. Usually he calls me, or at least the kids, to say goodnight to Aiden. "I don't think so," I say.
"Weird. Where is he again?"
"Some war-torn African country," I shrug. "Or maybe Middle Eastern?"
"The second one," Carol says without hesitation. I don't know how she knows where my husband is, but I don't question Carol anymore. It's kind of like how I stopped sharing recipes with Janet after she flipped over Sharon's table at the PTA meeting because she thought they were rip-offs of her own.
"The second one," I agree.
Brakayleigh sneezes and doesn't cover her mouth. Her eyes are pink, a bloody sort of pink, and now that I look closely at her skin, she has some kind of rash.
"Get on now," Helen says, "or your father's going to be late." Then, looking at me, she adds, "He works with the U.N, you know. Some peacekeeping thing with the WHO."
"I hate the U.N," Janet mutters. Janet hates a lot of things.
Brakayleigh coughs once more, hacking up what looks like a chunk of her own lung. Helen pays this no mind. As Brakayleigh stumbles away from the table, she trips and vomits. Rhonda remarks briefly on how that's good for her, but she shouldn't be eating in the first place, while the girl convulses for a second before getting up.
A look of concern must have flitted across my face, because Helen is suddenly staring at me. There is a deep, intense look in her eye that I cannot name, and I feel an overwhelming sense of dread- Brakayleigh, Makkenzy-lynne, my own children, are intermingled with pictures of Bill and a sudden surge of fear. I collapse back into my chair, panting.
When I look up, Carol is smiling at me.
***
**tl;dr: pestilence is an anti-vax mom, famine is a diet nut, war is an angry PTA parent who flips tables over stolen brownie recipes, and death itself is a soccer mom. Karen is just along for the ride.**
| *you 5 are running through the woods happy as can be. You all are the best if friends. You trip on a root and your head slams into the tree.*"ugh"*you grown as you look at your 4 friends and near pass out. They... they... THEY ARE THE FOUR HORSEMAN*"OH GOD DON'T KILL ME"*you cower in fear and they look confused before realizing what happened.*"you don't remember do you"*famine asks calmly*"um remember what?"*you ask*"you are the fifth horseman. The horseman of darkness" | |
[WP] As a young god in school you are tasked with creating a world with free will that doesn't destroy itself. You are the only one that succeeds. | "The assignment was difficult, I admit," said Hysterna, her scales whispering against each other as she coiled in front of the class. "But still, the level of excrement in your work is so high that, metaphorically speaking, your worlds are brown." She hissed disapprovingly, and the class flinched.
"What did I tell you the first day? That any world based on quantum mechanics would surely fail to grant free will to its participants? I'm looking at you Gregorit, you half\-brained drooling fool." Gregorit hid his head in his hand\-\-although the god of nonduality did only have a half brain, and due to manifesting as half a person cut down the middle, constantly drooled out the side of his head, the way Hysterna said it made his half\-stomach lurch.
Still, he spoke up, mumbling through his half\-lips, "But we learned later that quantum uncertainty in neuronal activity could spark free will."
"You're confusing randomness with free will, Gregorit. Having the little mudlings scurry about because some number generator in their head told them to is not true autonomy. And don't get me started on the ramifications of introducing a multi\-verse into your world. If there's a version of your creations for each possible choice they could make, then that choice isn't very meaningful, now is it?"
Gregorit swallowed back his retort; he had been about to bring that up.
"And you classicists are even worse! At least Gregorit's freaks could do something unpredictable. Yes, Murach and Umber, I'm looking at you. You built beautiful wind\-up clocks that ticked down into nothingness when you were supposed to be making something more. Next time, just piss in some supernovae and hand that in. At least it would be more original." Murach, being an ephemeral mist that floated everywhere in the classroom, didn't show much of a reaction, but Umber did actually begin to leak molten lava from her/his/its eyes.
"No fair! No fair!" Umber shouted. "What else is there? You're saying all the options are useless. What were we supposed to do, make a world out of black and yellow bile?"
"It'd be better than adopting only the most common, de\-bunked crock of shit theory of world construction ever used," Hysterna hissed in reply. "Look at Feldmann! She proved that semi\-original work is possible." Feldmann, the god of ginzels, blushed deeply under her construction hat. "True, just saying that every fundamental particle is itself possessed of free will, and although their actions in aggregate are predictable, the individual particle is not, has simply shifted the question up a level. And true, there's no explanatory power in it, no theory developed that you can craft the rest of the fine check and balances needed to make a world hum along." Feldmann's blush was decidedly gone. "But at least it was not ON THE FIRST PAGE OF THE TEXTBOOK!" Hysterna roared.
The classroom went deathly silent in the wake of their teacher's roar, and the only sound filling the suddenly empty soundscape was the shake of Hysterna's rattle. Eventually it slowed, and then stopped as the god's teacher took several deep breaths. "But, these failings, although common, are not unexpected. I perhaps was harsher than was warranted, as there has been some excellent work in the class." Heads perked up, surprised. "Darrell has come up with something you should all pay attention to." Hysterna beckoned a small, thin god from the back of the classroom. He stood awkwardly at the front of the room, hands clasped behind his back.
"Go on dear," said Hysterna. "Just tell them what you told me the other day."
"Well," he said with a nasal tone in his voice, "When you start, you can be a warlock, or sorceror, or a ranger, or a barbarian, or..." | "Let there be light!" I said.
And there was light. Then I created a small blue planet with oceans and land orbiting that light. After that I created a big gas planet to take in all the left over stuff i didn't need. They said i was over engineering it. I swirled the orbits around my fingers, what would go here? And in there? I decided that the fifth planet was too much and crushed it to bits. Yes, the gas planets shall lure all the asteroids and leave the one blue blip alone.
Then i started life itself. Just a little bit, to see how far it could go. And boy did it go. For 40 million nights, and days it did! And i saw!
My little children had evolved. Evolved to look just like me!
So u breathed to them, breathed them the Soul!
Go forth my children and fill this planet i have given you!
I was proud.
I watched them play, to dance and to fight. All by my will.
To pillage, to rape, to burn! All by my will.
And then i grew tired. I would not have any satisfaction on their petty wars. Their lust for power that i made them to feel.
I said "Do what thou wilt!" | |
[WP] As a young god in school you are tasked with creating a world with free will that doesn't destroy itself. You are the only one that succeeds. | It became something of a tradition, from what I’d gathered. Every year, the teacher in charge of Fundamental Philosophy would begin with a simple assignment: design a world such that there are intelligent forms which both have free will and do not succumb to entropy. It had a lot of merit to it, a sort of self-validating exercise which proved the necessity for the course, compared to the esoteric classes that did nothing but ask questions without answers and still mock you for trying to answer them.
Not that I had any particular grudge with Non-Axiom Logical Reasoning.
Regardless, I had been looking forward to the assignment for a while. We hear about it in your first year and everyone has their own answer immediately. Some people tried to make the simplest intelligence possible, so that it took a near eternity for all the mass to disintegrate. Others went for small populations, for much the same reason, but it was never quite enough. That was the problem with us lot: we didn’t really understand why or how things happened. The problem with knowing everything was forgetting it all. When we had always known all the answers our whole lives, finding an answer we didn’t know, well, it didn’t make sense. There was no point following the path from question to answer when we could simply step from one to the other in a single stride.
But, I had never been a normal sort. While others would happily know, I wished to learn, struggled to do so in fact. They all came up with all kinds of games and discussions to amuse themselves, and I fiddled with working out what the rules for things like binary logic were by going back-and-forth between questions and answers. It fascinated me, though, seeing the relationship between arithmetic and multiplication, or how the most complex logic formulas could be rewritten entirely using only one kind of operator, amongst a myriad of other things that took my fancy.
So, when it came time for me to design my world, I had a rather different approach than the others. Quickly enough, they had their little worlds going, with societies rising and falling into disarray, collapsing as resources dwindled and overpopulation strangled the supply chains and many other things like that.
On the other hand, mine initially stood out for being so dull. I had a world with nothing living. Of course, there were no shortage of comments about that, mostly poking fun that I’d failed the first step. I knew well enough. It took longer than most worlds lasted, but signs of life happened.
That brought about a strange silence.
I had looked at all sorts of things to try and understand, and came up with this strange notion that entropy wasn’t inherent. Just as life broke down, so too could it build up—given the correct circumstances. Once life seeded itself, it had this innate desire to continue. But, starting so small, it had this remarkable ability to change. Energy I hadn’t even thought of as being consumable was consumed. All those blocks I’d included (and most of them I had included despite being unable to comprehend their use) were put to some kind of use by these simple yet clever organisms.
Eventually, they split and grew and split and grew, becoming not a monolith but an ocean of uniqueness; from basic things barely a molecule in size, to creatures capable of complex thoughts and primitive social interactions. I could barely contain my excitement, even if they had yet to cross the threshold to intelligent forms.
It all had such a beauty. Against entropy, they persevered. To get this far, I had definitely found something important on how we made life, something which no one else could answer.
When they spread out from the forgiving waters, I found myself even more amazed. I had thought the land too inhospitable, but I had made it that way to guarantee sufficient energy would continuously enter the world and allow them to overcome entropy on the simplest level. Still, the flora flourished, overcoming the conditions, and soon fauna followed.
Balance had been the key, I thought. In general, we didn’t like questions with undefined answers, so the idea of having a world full of equilibriums must have been beyond thought. Without these kinds of things, though, the world could only ever go in one way. The world itself had to be in a constant state of flux, so that the life would be too, and thus they could influence one another.
Intelligent forms appeared, yet still changing, still splitting and mixing, not quite a monolith and not quite an ocean of uniqueness. Taking far longer than the intelligent forms others made—even the simplest ones—mine began to form societies and, while some fell, others thrived, ebbing and flowing. They fought each other, a rare thing in these assignments. Some societies lived off the oceans, others selectively growing various flora, others raising specific fauna. In time, some societies didn’t even produce their own food, bartering for it with other goods and even making some kind of universal bartering item—a small disc of a useless metal, which could be exchanged at any shop for goods.
It really amazed me. The sheer breadth of life, and I mean life in all kinds of different ways, simply amazed me. I couldn’t ever have designed such a world without spending an eternity and, in that time, this world would surely grow even more varied.
I spent longer watching it than I had ever watched anything else. Though many others joined me, I didn’t pay attention to anything they said, so focused on my own creation. Eventually, it had to come to end.
However, what an end it came to.
“What are they doing?”
“Is that a weapon?”
“Shouldn’t it explode?”
A small speck of brilliant white, propelled by an incredible burst of controllable fire. Slowly yet surely, that speck gained speed, flying not across the world, but from it. Farther from the surface, higher than the mountains, than the clouds, than the atmosphere. Only, our assignment hadn’t been to design a whole universe.
The teacher cleared their throat at that moment. “I think… we shall call it there.”
“Then, I have passed?”
After a moment’s grumbling, the teacher said, “I suppose.”
I couldn’t contain my excitement, even if it meant my world had to come to an end.
“What would you say set your world apart from your peers?” the teacher asked.
Thinking for a while, I eventually settled on an answer. “I suppose it’s that my world had no god.” | "Let there be light!" I said.
And there was light. Then I created a small blue planet with oceans and land orbiting that light. After that I created a big gas planet to take in all the left over stuff i didn't need. They said i was over engineering it. I swirled the orbits around my fingers, what would go here? And in there? I decided that the fifth planet was too much and crushed it to bits. Yes, the gas planets shall lure all the asteroids and leave the one blue blip alone.
Then i started life itself. Just a little bit, to see how far it could go. And boy did it go. For 40 million nights, and days it did! And i saw!
My little children had evolved. Evolved to look just like me!
So u breathed to them, breathed them the Soul!
Go forth my children and fill this planet i have given you!
I was proud.
I watched them play, to dance and to fight. All by my will.
To pillage, to rape, to burn! All by my will.
And then i grew tired. I would not have any satisfaction on their petty wars. Their lust for power that i made them to feel.
I said "Do what thou wilt!" | |
[WP] You’re now a lonely old man with a lawn. You want to say *those* special words. But none of the kids ever come near you. You sit on your porch chair waiting for the day it happens. That is, if it ever comes. | On the first light night of summer 2017 I proudly positioned the handmade rocking chair on my newly constructed decking. As the sun beat down it caused a single bead of sweat to slowly slide from my right temple like a solitary tear. Drawing a path to my jaw bone.
The beer was bitterly refreshing and my cigarette smoke filled my lungs with that familiar feeling of relief.
The previous year Annemarie had slowly deteriorated and finally succumbed to the cancer. She would have loved this. I had cared for her in our own home for the last 6 years. Feeding her, dressing her and by last year changing her adult diapers. You do not know pain until you watch the love of your life lose the one thing they still have left. Their dignity.
I did it all with a smile on the outside. I could never let her see what this was doing to me.
On the inside? I was angry. Angry with god for allowing this, angry with her family who barely visited, angry with the neighbours dog disturbing her rare moments of peaceful sleep with his continuous yelping at every fluttering leaf or passing car, angry at myself for not having the time to tend to annemaries garden but mostly angry with myself for buying our first 20 pack of chesterfields when we wanted to try smoking as a couple of 15 year old love birds. If only.
The neighbours where away on vacation and had taken their nuisance mutt with them. The street was deathly quiet but for a distant repetitive thud. Those pain in the ass kids from 3 houses down playing basketball again. That damn Spalding, banging off the hot tarmac in front of their fathers garage. “He’s closer than me, how does he put up with the noise? “ I thought. Maybe if I ever managed to give Annemarie children I too would have developed that almost superhuman ability to zone out and not hear the annoying sounds your spawn make.
Midway through a pissed off sigh I heard an earth shattering crash that damn near stopped my old heart. I don’t know how bad you have to be at basketball to manage this. if you can smash my $60 terracotta hanging plant pot from 3 houses away then it’s clearly not you’re sport. Try knitting you little Nancy boys.
Inside I feel the immediate shooting of anger almost to the point of pain. The plant pot can be replaced, I can take the £60 dollars from their fathers wallet or I can take it out their ass but the plant, the plant was the last of the flowers planted by Annemarie. The only living part of her I had left. The lilac flowers lying crushed on my porch, a fitting metaphor for my life.
As the minutes passed I was positive I could hear the brats whisper arguing over who was responsible for going to “that old mans” house to ask for the ball back.
Are they kidding? They’ve crushed my dead wife’s plant, ruined my peaceful summer evening and now they think I should give them their ball back?
Just then two young boys appeared on the pavement at the bottom right hand side of my garden.. sheepishly walking out from behind the cover of the dividing fence.
Judging by size alone their is only one culprit who could have thrown the ball far enough to land on my property but for whatever reason the younger of the two came fourth and apologised. A real apology too. With a cheeky smile he outstretched to shake my hand, introduces himself as Jamie and innocently asked for his ball back.
Thrown off guard I find myself shaking his tiny hand I actually feel a wave of happiness splash over my whole body as I realise I have been waiting a long time to utter these words.
A deep breath through my nose regains my composure as I say
“ Bite Ma banger ya wee dick, yer da sells Avon” | I heard a sound in the distance and dismissed it irrevocably. A scraping noise like a snow plow, but in the middle of summer. On my right side the children were playing hockey in the street again. It gave me fond memories of the time I played basketball on this very street when I was their age.
The noise was the sound of a Honda civic scraping against the concrete wall of the freeway exit ramp three blocks down. The 72 year old man driving it was having a stroke, and lay slumped over his steering wheel. I had no way of knowing this until later, of course. All I could see was a couple seconds of a car screaming down the road. So fast that I had no time to react.
The father of one of the boys had seen it coming too. I watched what happened next in slow motion. The shouting father lept into the road and grabbed the only child who had not jumped out of the way; It was the goalie facing the culdesac opposite the freeway ramp... but he was too late.
The car hit both of them. The father went up onto the windshield and tumbled over it like a wet paper bag full of broken Christmas ornaments. The child lodge into the grill, instantly severing his lower body and leaving a wake of plastic hockey gear and more blood on the pavement than a small child should have. The civic slammed into the vacant house at the end, leaving nothing behind but one blinking tail light and a five foot diameter hole in the wall.
Two of the kids who hadn't seen the actual impact of the crash were screaming hysterically for help at the end of my driveway. I could tell they were frantically searching for an adult.
The other children were all screaming too, but the parents had not yet come out to see what was causing the commotion. I was the only adult in sight at that moment, and my adrenaline was so pumped up I acted instinctively, without thinking. I decided to stand up and walk down my steps towards the middle of the path leading down through my lawn. I had to move as soon as possible, I had to get down there. That was the only thought in my mind. It was now or never. It was time to man up and do what I needed to do.
As the children ran across my lawn, I leaned down on one knee. I firmly placed one hand on each of their fragile shoulders, looked the smaller of the two in the eyes, and told them the words they needed to hear:
"Get the fuck off my lawn"
I don't remember much about what happened after that, as I was finally able to achieve orgasm.
| |
[WP] You’re now a lonely old man with a lawn. You want to say *those* special words. But none of the kids ever come near you. You sit on your porch chair waiting for the day it happens. That is, if it ever comes. | Grant had been an old man for as long as he could remember. Not to say that he’d never been young, there had been another life, a wife, a son, a family. But those memories had grown so painful that Grant considered the man that they belonged to another person. It was easier to take care of the lawn. The old Grant hadn’t been much of a gardener, too focused on the now to care about what others would think of his lawn. Too occupied with paying the bills, taking his son to sport, spending time with his best friend and wife. He was happy and the grass was neglected.
In 2020, there was a virulent outbreak of influenza which was particularly potent. It’s easy not to be scared of the flu, everyone’s had it at some point and while unpleasant very few people take it seriously. Grant had known about it, hell everyone had. Reminders had come home in his boys school bag reminded everyone to get their flu shot. It’s information that you take on board, know that you should act on but rarely do.
The first schools closed down after more than half of their student population were hospitalized for severe flu like symptoms. Then staff and parents of students who attended those schools began to feel unwell too. His son had come home feeling feverish, on the same night that the first deaths were reported. Grant never connected the two events, how could he? His son was healthy and had been playing outside only hours ago.
A week later, Grant and his wife were feeling unwell themselves but were focused on their son who had taken a turn for the worst. They arrived at the hospital, where the children’s unit was overflowing with kids suffering from the same flu-like conditions his son had. It seemed unreal that in less than a week there was no need to go back to the hospital anymore. He and his wife felt like hollow shells of the parents they once were. Grant began to take care of his garden.
When Grant and his Wife began to feel worse they took themselves to the hospital, fully expecting to never come back just as their boy didn’t. But they were older, their immune systems stronger and more developed and they were told they would both make a full recovery. Grant did, but his wife was not the same person she once was. In the end, Grant was alone.
Sitting in his living room the TV broke down the experience into the statistics which Grant had lived through himself.
The Disease had effected nearly 80% of the world’s population. The Disease had a near 95% mortality rate for children under the age of 13. Treatment for the Disease left most women infertile. The Disease had burnt itself out but the world was in crisis. Grant turned off the TV and walked out to his front porch.
He sat in a wicker rocking chair and look at his lush, green, well-manicured lawn and prayed, that one day, he could say those words.
| You sit on the porch, rocking back and forth, remembering the promise you made to yourself when you were first yelled *those* special words.
Jane died only a year prior. Leaving you with retirement money and time. With the neighborhood all grown up, there's only one thing to do...
Your target is the house with the biggest yard in the middle of a young neighborhood. Next is to put in place strange device you inherited from your father. Seemingly passive, but produces an omni-directional air current towards itself. The perfect way to "encourage" projectiles to land in unintended places. Finally, sit back and wait.
You've turned your house into a black hole for baseballs, frisbees, and other toys.
Before you know it, you are "that guy". You become a legend amongst the neighborhood kids. You are known by one phrase:
"Hey! You kids get off my lawn!" | |
[WP] You are not a time traveler, but a time thief. You use your abilities mostly for good, taking time from the healthy and giving it to the dying so they can spend a bit more of their last moments with their loved ones. A recent doctor’s visit reveals you have a terminal illness. | "What?"
The doctor struggled to look me in the eyes. "Hyper-acute hepatic insufficiency."
"And what the heck is that?"
"Your liver is dying, Mr. Reese. And quickly. We're not quite sure what caused it, but--"
"How much?" I demanded. "How much time do I have left?"
The doctor shuffled his papers. "A few weeks at most. I'm sorry, Mr. Reese. Your symptoms are developing unusually fast, but there's no underlying cause. Toxicology is puzzled, oncology cannot find anything. It's like your liver is just ... giving up. Without knowing the cause we can't even suggest a treatment."
"Put me on the transplant list."
The doctor shook his head. "Mr. Reese ... these things can take months. Even years. You don't have time for that."
"I'll make time. Put me on!" I demanded.
"But--I ..." the doctor sighed. "If it eases your mind, very well."
"Thank you." I held my hand out. As we shook, I stole a few days off his life. Nothing he won't miss.
I have a gift, you see. I can give or take time from people. Time off their death clock, so to speak. My mother always told me it ran in the family. And that if I ever told anyone about it, the power would disappear. Of course, that was a lie just to keep my mouth shut. But she was a strong woman. Never used her powers for selfish purposes, taught me to do the same. She saved more lives working as an ER nurse than any surgeon ever could.
When she was diagnosed with malignant breast cancer, it came as a shock. But she accepted her fate with open arms. When she lay on her deathbed, weak and sickly, I asked her why she didn't steal time for herself, and she replied with the same thing she told me so many times before: "Alex, it's not about how much time we have on this planet, its about what we do with it."
The cancer took her two weeks later. She was only thirty nine, I was eight. Forty years later, I still miss her.
I took the subway home. I don't trust cars. Not anymore. The subway, though ... there's people everywhere. Every bump, nudge, and push was an opportunity to steal more time. I tried not to be greedy ... a few hours here, a week or two there. I needed a plan to get more. A lot more. Maybe an unwanted child was just born in the hospital? No, no! I can't let myself go down that path. It's always been my rule to only take a little at a time. It's not my place to judge who who dies an early death.
I walked my usual route home, passing through different lots and byways at random. I can't be predictable anymore, because I kept getting into accidents. Caught in the middle of a gang shootout. Hit by crashing cars. Struck by lightning. Walking under collapsing street-side construction. What can I say? Death has it out for me.
I think I was supposed to die about five years ago, when a drunk driver crossed the meridian. Bleeding, crushed, and suffocating from collapsed lungs, I did a few things I shouldn't have done: stole time off the bystander who comforted me until the ambulance came. Stole more off the EMTs who tried to save my life. Since then, I see Death from time to time, stalking me. Always in the shadows. Waiting. Subtly manipulating the odds that I'll die soon. I bet he thinks he's got me now, with this liver disease. But I'll find a way to outsmart him. I always do.
My stomach hurts. No, that must be my liver. I shoulda gone to the doctor sooner. No wonder why I'm tired all the time, why I can barely keep food down. I fumble for my keys at the door to my apartment. I drop them. Sighing, I bend over. A spike of pain radiates out from my belly, and I collapse on the floor. Crap.
The next few weeks were miserable. I called in sick, stayed at home. I may have collected a few months on that subway ride, but it didn't do anything for my symptoms. Time only delays the inevitable, after all. The worst part was that I couldn't even mask the pain with alcohol: it'd just make me sick. I called the doctor and asked him about the waiting list. He told me nineteen months. He also told me to come in again for a check up.
Sighing, I went through my usual routine: I shaved with an electric razor so I wouldn't cut myself. I bathed sitting down so I wouldn't slip and fall in the shower. I turned off all the lights wearing rubber gloves to prevent a deadly shock. I cook breakfast with the microwave, so I don't have to worry about a stove gas leak. I do this all by necessity: ever since my car accident, Death has been trying very hard to collect me.
I make it to the hospital early, armed with a few more months of time I've gathered from the subway. I sneak by the ER and grab more time off a junkie who OD'd. I took about a year ... more than I should have, but its not like he's gonna make good use of it. Then I visit the children's center, to the terminal disease ward. Some of them know me, even by name ... though they don't know why I'm there. I spread the time around, probably giving them a few weeks each. I do it until I feel my stomach pain getting worse: that's when I know I'm out of extra time.
When my doctor sees me he's amazed I'm even still alive. My symptoms haven't gotten worse, but they're not any better. He gives me liver medication, which doesn't help, and something for the pain, which also doesn't help. Then I leave, with an appointment to see him within a week.
We continue this for a full year. One whole year of borrowing time, managing the pain, escaping Death. I've spent the year bitter, miserable, and angry. I've evaded him for so long ... it's not my fault he's a sore loser. Giving me this illness was a dick move. The pain was constant, I was always so tired and weak ...
And you know what? After a full year, I realized that I've had enough.
I left my doctor's appointment and headed for the children's center. I went straight to my favorite kid. His name was Carter. What a trooper. Before he was diagnosed with leukemia, he wanted to be a firefighter. Still does, actually. He says that we were all put on this Earth to help other people. You can't find adults with that much courage and generosity.
I brush past a nurse and enter his room. "Hey, there's my little C-man!"
He yawns and adjusts the oxygen tubes in his nose. "Hey, Mr. Reese!" he beams. He's so happy to see me. His family doesn't come by too often anymore, so I've become sort of a second dad to him. "How come your skin's so yellow?"
I wince from the pain in my liver. "Ah, this? I was just, uh ... fighting an army of angry yellow markers, and they scribbled all over me ... just like this!" I go straight for his tummy, tickling him. He kicked and squealed and thrashed until he was short of breath. Laughing, I stared into his blue eyes and savored his innocence. I sighed. "Carter, I got something for you."
He tries to sit up. "Yeah? what is it?"
"It's a surprise, but it won't take effect until you're older."
His delight faded from his face. "But I won't ..."
I shush him. "You will. Because the gift I'm giving you ... is time." I took his hands in mine. "Time to grow up, to become an adult, to live life to the fullest."
He doesn't smile, because he's heard this spiel before, from his nurses, his family. But they can't offer him what I can. I hold onto his hands tight. "Just promise me ... you'll become a firefighter some day. Can you do that for me?"
He looks up at me, wide-eyed. "Are you okay? Your face ..."
I let go of his hands, my own now trembling. "Yes. I'm fine. Just promise."
"I promise."
I force a smile. "G-g-good. I'll ... see you later, C-man. T-t-take care ... of ... yourself."
Clutching my stomach, I stumble out of the room. I close the door, make two more steps, and I collapse. I must have given him over a decade, plus whatever time I had left. Hopefully that's enough. My vision grew dark. I felt so tired ...
A hand pulled me to my feet. The world was gray and smoky, and I noticed I'm standing over my own body. Nurses rushed to my aid, but it's too late. I looked up to see the robed figure of Death, scythe at the ready. I pulled away from his hand. "Let go of me," I growled. "You ... you bastard! You just couldn't let me go, could you? Couldn't let me live a happy life? Screw you!"
Death stood still as a statue. "This was never about your happiness. It was about your powers. Your responsibility."
I gasp. That voice .... that sweet, gentle voice, so full of love and longing. "M ... mom?"
Death lowered her hood, revealing the golden locks and kind face of my mother. Bittersweet tears streamed down her face. She ran forward and embraced me. "My son ... I'm so happy to see you again."
"I don't understand ... you've been trying to kill me all these years!"
She rested her hand against my face. "Oh, honey ... I'm sorry, but your time was over years ago. I was only trying to restore the natural order! But now you're finally here, so none of that matters. It is time to pass on the mantle, and learn the true nature of your power."
"What do you mean?"
My mother slipped out of her ragged black robes, revealing a glowing white gown underneath. She handed me both the robes and the scythe. She looked up at me, beaming with pride. "Welcome to the family business. Now let's get started ... there's a lot to learn."
| The touch of death and the breath of life, after all these centuries, together again. Of course to each other, Desmond was just his baby brother and he was the older brother Lyle. Though they hadn't spoken over the years, their minds were intertwined at birth. First Lyle decided he wanted things to live, and in synchronization with Desmond he'd decided when he'd want his little brother to take them. Up to this point there had been no disagreement. Up to this day, they had meticulously extended the lives of the innocent and ended lives of the guilty and misfortunate. They haven't had to make eye contact in some time, but now Desmond is forced to look upon his big brother. His glow not what it once was. And Lyle is forced to look into his brothers eyes. His fearless expression not as strong as it once was. This unsure and disappointed expression that occupied his face is alien to him.
"Why did you go to the hospital? You don't need to go to the\-"
"I'm sick brother." Lyle interrupted. His eyes tired. His messy hair and uneven facial hair screamed defeat. "That's why you're here. To stay with me for a bit."
"Nah, that's not how it works. You're immortal. We're immortal. You sound stupid as fuck right now! Get up, we're going outside. You just need inspiration." Desmond motioned towards his big brother to leave. Knowing very well he can't touch his brother and force him on. He shouldn't.
Desmond was immortal. Lyle looked into his eyes, as he did with every animal he'd encounter. In the pupil clear as day, as if it were there for anybody to see if they knew what they were looking for, was nothing. Just darkness. For any other person, a number would appear exclaiming how long someone has until Desmond was expected to visit them. A number he had never seen in his own eyes. That is until he collapsed in a hospital he frequented. When the doctor explained his own time was almost up, and looked into the mirror when he got home. Here he was, two weeks before his time was supposed to be up, death had arrived at his door step as he had with any other person. In most cases he showed up as a friendly stranger. Sometimes he showed up as an estranged lover. Today he showed up as who he was, his worried loving baby brother.
"I don't want to walk anymore brother. I just want to rest. You remain immortal. You will continue your work, as your eyes reveal no time in which you will stop." Lyle attempted to comfort his baby brother.
"Nah B, fuck that. There is no death without life. I don't know what's gotten into you, but you need to chill. just come with me one day." Desmond still motioned towards the door. Itching to carry his brother out. Lyle hadn't heard his brother speak in what felt like forever. He wondered if his accent was because of how many trips he'd have to make to the slums and the tattered neighborhoods of the streets the human's governments ignored. He'd wondered this for sometime, among other things. Things that made him sick to his stomach. Wondered if his lack of accent was any indication of him ignoring them as well.
"I've witnessed many incredible feats in my time. I've witnessed weak men take the lives of stronger ones. I've prolonged the lives of strong women just long enough for their kids to visit them. But even still, this world gets colder and colder everyday. The numerous school shootings, terrorism, unnamed wars prolonged by governments on small nations creating the terrorists they claimed to fight. The cycle has worn on me. I've witnessed stronger men succumb to less, thus I do not feel right taking from anyone else. The humans standard of life is not what it once was brother. As it goes so do I. I did not call you here to change my mind. I just want to talk with you. One day, when life is appreciated again, she will be born. I know this, because that is where my time has gone. I need you to share with her. Teach her. Shape her. For that... we need to talk. And for me... I want to talk." Lyle whispered. His voice wavering. His eyes, not as bright, still soothing. Desmond sat in silence for a bit.
"... I came to a firefighter in the form of air once. You sent me. Said he'd need just a little more time. He found a little girl, she was hurt but she lived. I stayed with the man for two days as you asked. His kids practically slept in the hospital room. I visited one of the kids decades later. He had married the girl in the fire. I came in the form of an intruder. Misfortune happens to good people some time. Their kid went on to be an officer. Saved dozens of lives. Life is wild. Ha, you're wild bro." Desmond forced a smile. "I don't know how there will be death without life."
"Due to the times, you will have to work a little harder. You will have to take lives that shouldn't be taken. Lives of children that the people value their steel over. Lives of women the men value their masculinity over. But change dictates that it cannot persist. You will be worked hard, but due to the lives you take, and the hearts you break, the outspoken ones will speak louder. The hurt will vow to never let anyone feel that hurt again. And through their words, life will be born again.
This was long, my bad. | |
[WP] "You don't get to just walk away from being a god" | The man lied in the in the shallow black pool of liquid that was held in the center of the dark room. He felt the reverberations around him, those of *It* and *Its* workings. But he wasn’t awake. Not exactly. He was there but not. He felt and saw everything around him but he didn’t *care.* Like being detached from your own body, but still in control.
*Wake up.* A course digital and mechanical voice churned from its screens in the wall, which glowed a faint red light. *I said wake up.*
The man stood, slowly. Yet not with care. Like a husk, following commands. Like a soulless puppet.
*Do you know the effort it took to get you here?”* It said, as mechanical “arms” started to rise from the pool. *Do you know what your purpose here is?*
Its voice echoed, as the man stood still.
*You are my vessel. You are my physical form. Something to deceive them. The things below. They hunger for a prophet. They ask for a hero. And they crave a leader. So I’ll give them more. I’ll give them... a god.*
The man looked at the screen, looked at *It*, and blinked. He gasped for air, and fell to his knees. He shook. He was awake.
*There you are* It said. *Stand up.*
He coughed up liquid, and he looked around.
“Fuck you.” He said, as he turned away. “I don’t want to be your ‘vessel.’ I don’t want to be your god. I won’t let those people suffer. Not after what you’ve done to them.”
*You don’t understand* It cackled, as mechanical things came out of the walls, and the arms from the pool started coursing with red energy. *Do you think you are in control? Do you think you can just leave? No. You don’t get to walk away from being a god.*
The energy spiked, and tendrils of it went into the man’s torso. It flowed into him, and then retracted. His wounds started to heal...
And the color of his eyes was a glowing, digital red.
“Finally.” He said, as he took a deep breath. “It is done.”
He smiled, and started to laugh. Small wisps of red energy flowed from his hands, and dissipated into the air.
“It is time for them to meet their prophet. It is time for them to meet their god.”
| "You don't get to just walk away from being a god"
Those words rang out, imperious, forbidding. I took one last glance at Paradise and jumped.
As I sped towards Earth, the wind whistling past, I stayed alert for any who tried to follow.
None did.
The clouds parted beneath me, revealing the blue and green expanse below. I angled my approach, aiming for the large glittering city that dominated the landscape. I slammed into the concrete, sending shards cascading outwards to screams from the humans gathered around.
I stepped out of the crater and gazed down upon them.
How do you stop being a God?
By becoming a Devil.
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r/AMSWrites | |
[WP] "You don't get to just walk away from being a god" | A debugger is a person who makes sure that the code has no errors or recursions.
They will run the program, find some flaws, test it, challenge it, try to break it. The idea is to fill those nooks nobody sees on their first run or to optimize the data so it is more streamlined.
With this in mind, I thought I could fill the position that was given to me after that battle. The one I was forced to make a decision and lead me to end her life to escape her nightmare.
When I returned to what was supposed to be my reality, things had already changed.
I had lost a lot of the people I cared, so the feeling of emptiness could be easily justified. The fact of the matter was that it wasn't just a feeling, but a baffling discovery: somehow Earth had emptied entirely and I was its sole inhabitant.
"Seems like you screwed up." A voice came from above, prompting to tilt my head upwards. What I found would be categorized as strange, but by that time nothing phased anymore: it was a young man dressed in white robes with a shining chromed armor and a green sash that hung from his left shoulder down to his right hip. On his hip there was a leather belt that had a scabbard attached and in that there was a sword with a silver handle and a point that reminded me of a quill. He gently descended to ground level and it was there were I could view his facial features better, golden eyes and white hair as fresh snow. Said hair was cut in a bob, with an exception of an extra on the bag that he had tied in a lower ponytail and had moved the ends of it to his right shoulder. "Mind if I give you a hand?"
"Who are you?" I asked. I shifted my body to a more defensive stance just in case.
"Don't worry, I'm not here to hurt you. Just to give you the gist of the job."
"What job?"
The celestial being smiled at me and shook his head in amused disbelief.
"To put it bluntly, you've become God of this world."
"God?"
I recalled that she had also referred herself as such previous to the battle we had, mocking her muse by asking him where was his. Suddenly, I began to feel somewhat lightheaded.
"Yep." The being nodded at me. "God of all this world. You defeated the previous one and now have their post. It's strange actually, I was under the impression that this world didn't have one in the first place. To find out that there was *and* said God was taken down as quickly as they came. . ."
Shigeru's words echoed in my mind. A determined look and a defiant stance.
'*There's no god*'.
Was he aware of this? If godhood was an established position that *did* exist, why wasn't it being filled?
". . . which takes me back to you." His unusual visitor had seemingly continued his monologue without paying attention on whether or not he was listening. "As this world's God, you can do anything that you want so long as you don't tilt the balance of it too far off. You wouldn't want to break things, would you?"
"What can I do?" I asked aimlessly. It was more a question for myself than the person in front of me.
"Basically, you can do *anything*. This is *your* realm now. Though, do notice that it is far more easy to 'ascend' away from this place and do your bidding without being watched than being a part of the world. In fact, it is kind of a silent rule all dimensions follow. Most of the time, conscious beings can't handle meeting their creators and it usually causes a terrible chain reaction."
I thought about his proposal and what I could do with it. Became much brighter and exciting.
Remorse came knocking in as soon as I was listing on my mind the top priorities I had for this canvas that was given to me.
"Who are you?" I asked out of curiosity rather than politeness.
"The name's Shiro and I'm a Dimensional Warrior. You don't need that many details but let's just say I'll keep a watch on what you do here. Maybe give you a hint or two on what you can do."
---
The first week, I attempted the scenario described on the Bible in the order I could best remember: first was the spark of light that created everything, followed by the sun, the moon, the planets, other stars and planets, plasma and general matter. I realized by the third day, as I was "splitting the sea from the land" that I could just accelerate creation at my whim and that following the steps of the book were tedious and unnecessary.
The next day, I brought back everything as I knew it.
There were houses with people, traffic in the streets and I woke up in my bed at 2 in the afternoon as I used to.
Sitting on my bed while brushing my eye, I noticed a message from Rick regarding a project we had been working a couple of weeks ago.
I had to remind myself that I had basically restarted the world and put it back to place as I felt it best.
> -You got the today's assignment?
> -Yeah, thnx.
> -Thank *you* buddy. Couldn't do it without ya. Drinks are on me when we are done!
He never did ever pay the drinks, I muttered as I went to my desk to start work on this project.
The code attached, however, wasn't anything I'd seen before.
It was endless, archaic and had command lines that extended far from what my screen could handle.
The code was so big, it began to appear *on* the computer screen itself, flooding out and filling every corner of the walls of my room, the floor, the bed, myself.
A gut feeling told me that this code literately ran the world.
It made sense considering that most of the stuff I had created had been via coding and what I was basically doing was to recreate the world as best as I remembered, recycling some objects and make them run their usual queries.
But programs always had a limitation, a thought crept in my mind bringing a chill on my spine that made me tremble, and there could be exceptions they cannot execute.
The rest of the evening, and the following days, I worked on the code that was presented to me as best as I could.
First, I needed to translate the coding into something more object friendly and less jarring. For the purpose of this, I chose a mixture of C++ for the basic core and Javascript for a easy to access and friendly HUD I could summon to make quick edits or debug on site.
I calculated that the primary cleanup took me at least a month, one that I began to notice I didn't need to eat, sleep or do any of a human's typical physiological necessities.
When Rick's messages regarding the project that was 'given' to me, which I presumed was more of a in universe prompt to work on the code for the universe I inhabited, became annoying I ran a small test to rewind time back to when the message was first sent.
This had two purposes: to see if any interaction with the code would revert and to just keep Rick quiet about it.
It didn't take long for me to realize that Rick himself was an object that could be called upon and change with enough modifications to his code.
Same with my mother, my sister, my house, my surroundings, the weather, the light from the sun, *her*. . .
She was within the priorities. I brought her back to life as soon as I could.
I saw her on that one time I bothered to visit the University I used to attend in order to make sure things were tidy and scripted accordingly. There she was on her own but she seemed much more cheerful and was soon joined by a two classmates whom she engaged in conversation, one male and one female. They were based on characters she had once created for a story, which oddly enough were based on real people. A recursion. Those were always tricky to pull right, I noted.
The feeling that the place I inhabited was artificial began to eat me around the 20th time I repeated that month. Afterwards, I'd simply stopped the prompt from Rick to happen and had decided to isolate myself from the world in order to work on it properly. The sun rose and went down countless of times but I had already lost the need to even notice it.
And yet the code kept going and going, a cascade of endless variables that would just break down further the notion of my reality.
The biggest breakdown came when I decided to take a peek at my own coding. Surely enough, I was also composed of code, but it was clear that his hierarchy allowed me to do things as I wanted. And if such was the case. . .
---
^(*Continued in the next comment.*)
^(Edit: I realized that for some reason I had switched to third person for no reason. That's been fixed now. I suppose I should be more wary when I get to write stories at my workplace : P )
| "You don't get to just walk away from being a god"
Those words rang out, imperious, forbidding. I took one last glance at Paradise and jumped.
As I sped towards Earth, the wind whistling past, I stayed alert for any who tried to follow.
None did.
The clouds parted beneath me, revealing the blue and green expanse below. I angled my approach, aiming for the large glittering city that dominated the landscape. I slammed into the concrete, sending shards cascading outwards to screams from the humans gathered around.
I stepped out of the crater and gazed down upon them.
How do you stop being a God?
By becoming a Devil.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
r/AMSWrites | |
[WP] "You don't get to just walk away from being a god" | "You don't get to just walk away from being a God!" The woman screamed clenching her fists at her side. The great hall fell silent as all eyes locked onto her. No one dared make a sound as they awaited the punishment that would fall upon her.
The figure turned from the entrance of the great hall slowly, his face a dark grimace. "You dare question me? Still your tongue or have your insolence punished. No child, I will return when I see fit. Or do you intend to-"
Faster then even the God of Gods could react the woman was upon him. She launched forward lightning fast and a shock wave was flung out from the impact her leg struck his face with, knocking Gods and food about in a wave of chaos.
The man God flew back, smashing the large wooden entrance to the great hall to pieces and tumbling down the great staircase to the mortal realm before slamming his fist in to the stone to cease his fall. With a flick of his wrist he was launched back landing at the broken entrance before his daughter, the blood on his face steaming off with the sheer heat and rage emanating from the betrayed God.
"My mercy has its limit child! Kneel and ask forgiveness or I will send you to the underworld myself!" as he said this lightning surrounded his hands and the world darkened. Lesser Gods began to flee now deeper into the hall or jumping from windows, knowing to be caught in the crossfire would mean certain death.
"Athena please kneel! I'm begging you! He will kill you, you know he will!" Hera pleaded, grabbing her arm and trying to drag her down.
Athena gently pushed her mother back, and gave her a sad smile.
"I would rather die then watch him do as he pleases any longer." With a flash of white light Athena's shield and spear were in her hands, and her body adorned with golden armor.
"Enough of your games father! I Athena, Goddess of war and wisdom challenge you for rule of Olympus!"
"Insolent whelp!" The voice boomed now, as thunder and lighting roared and flashed through the darkened hall.
Zeus let loose the lightning he had been collecting and launched it at Athena. Batting it away with her shield, the lightning tore a massive hole through the roof of the Olympian hall, sending stone and wood debris raining through the air.
Athena was darting towards him now shield before her, deflecting bolt after bolt of lightning and shredding the building around them to pieces. Finally close enough she launched from the ground spear held back ready to strike Zeus in the heart.
In a flash Zeus had dodged to the side and thrown a brutal kick to Athena's chest. She was flung to the opposite side of the great hall, landing in Zeus's throne coughing and sputtering blood. Before she could collect herself Zeus was upon her again, striking a leaping downward strike to her face. The force sent Athena smashing through the back wall of the hall, free falling now from the mountain side to the Earth below.
Covered in blood and filled with pain she shook off the damage and took mental note of the situation. Her shield and spear had fallen out of her hands and she had not the strength to recall them. She knew she would survive the fall but when her father arrived at her again she knew that would be it. To have lost so quickly filled her with great shame.
She landed on the forest floor below, smashing trees and tearing up the Earth with her body. Her tumble stopped in a small clearing in the woods, her body broken and bruised. She tried desperately to lift herself to her feet with her arms, but is stopped by a foot on her back pushing her back into the dirt.
"It ends now child. I never expected such treachery from you. Give up this folly and be spared or go to the underworld where your uncle awaits you." Zeus said, a tinge of sadness for what he felt he must do.
"It may not be me. But just as you killed your tyrant father you to will be killed for the tyrant you are. Now do as you do best father! Kill me!" Athena gargled out through the blood and dirt in her mouth.
"I have killed any who could stand against me. My father grew complacent and that is why I could destroy him. My watchful eye ensures there are none who gain that strength in all the world. Now goodbye child, may you find peace in - aggghhh!" Zeus staggered forward, letting forth a great cry. A red blade sunk to its hilt had been planted in his back, and when Zeus turned to see who had done it his eyes lay on no other then his beloved wife, Hera.
"Hephaestus made this for me after you threw him from mount Olympus. All you had to do was leave our children alone and I would have allowed you to do as you please... But here we are instead." Hera said, tortured at the sight of her dying husband and broken daughter.
"You ungrateful heathen!" Zeus said, staggering forward while trying to reach the blade on his back. He could feel his power wavering, as horror filled him. The untouchable was slowly being made vulnerable, as he realized the dagger was draining his power away.
Instead of the pain he intended to inflict on Hera, he staggered into her using her as support to stand. Tears fell down Hera's eyes as she looked into her decaying husbands, the father of her children she had just slew.
"You will suffer unimaginable horrors..." Zeus said, raising his hand to strike her. But before he could a broken Athena had tore the blade from his back,
"Goodbye father."
With a great cry she sunk the blade back down with all of her might at the back of her fathers skull. The unstoppable deity dropped instantly into the mud, blood gushing down his body and into the earth.
Athena fell to her knees before her fathers body barely able to move from pain and exhaustion. Her mother was sobbing now, her head in her hands with the horror of patricide having played out before her.
"We are free mother.." Athena said, incredulous on how things had played out. She had actually won, thanks to her mother. She could hardly believe it. She wondered where the blade that could kill Zeus could possibly have come from.
Hera's hand came down hard across her bloodied daughters face, sending a spray of blood across the ground.
"No, you have begun a war that we cannot hope to win! You think the other Gods will leave this unchallenged? No, if they had been there they would have rushed to Zeus's side! You are lucky there was none there to match you besides your father!" Hera collected the dagger from her husbands skull and grabbed Athena's arm, dragging her across the ground behind her.
"Hephaestus waits nearby with his chariot. We must hide and prepare for what you have unleashed upon us, arrogant child."
Athena didn't have the strength to resist any longer, and allowed herself to be dragged behind. As far as she was concerned she had done the right thing. Whatever comes could be no worse then her father. Or so she hoped...
And with that thought she drifted into a deep sleep.
| "You don't get to just walk away from being a god"
Those words rang out, imperious, forbidding. I took one last glance at Paradise and jumped.
As I sped towards Earth, the wind whistling past, I stayed alert for any who tried to follow.
None did.
The clouds parted beneath me, revealing the blue and green expanse below. I angled my approach, aiming for the large glittering city that dominated the landscape. I slammed into the concrete, sending shards cascading outwards to screams from the humans gathered around.
I stepped out of the crater and gazed down upon them.
How do you stop being a God?
By becoming a Devil.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
r/AMSWrites | |
[WP] "You don't get to just walk away from being a god" | I was playing a flute when he showed up. The song was piercing to the heart. It was piercing the ears too, like a dying cat. Maybe it was just that I was not very good at it.
Or maybe I knew that anybody hearing this noise would give it a wide berth, leaving me alone.
But not him.
He had a bright orange hair and big beard, flowing over his wide chest. His armor was large and fearsome. The wolf head insignia stared forth, mouth agape, like it would, at any moment, eat you alive, or projectile vomit.
I'd do that to if I had to had my nose permanently under his beard. The god hardly ever showered.
He walked right under the tree I was perching on. Arms akimbo.
"Uncle," he started. I smiled at him a coy smile, or maybe a sad one,
and I let him go on, "uncle, you need to get home."
My nephew, so large and terrible. So lost without me.
I played a tune. A real one. It was about sorrow and loss long forgotten. I played it until the moon dropped the tears on the stars and the frosty mountain cried into glaciers, and I smiled at my nephew again my old, sad smile.
"Uncle, we need help. The giants! They took it again!"
He waved his hands. They were both empty. I shook my head.
"Nephew, nephew, nephew," I wagged my flute at him, "I told you to take better care of your belongings. You are a big boy now!" With this, I slid under the tree and faced him. I was tall, but he was taller. I looked up at his beard and his nostrils. A lovely sight.
"You must trick them once more! You must trick them to return my hammer!"
I squeezed his shoulder. They were hard and lean and trembling. "Nephew, I can no longer trick. They took away my title, my name. I am no longer the uncle you know."
"But you are the Trickster!" He said. His chest rumbled. The wolf in his armor gleamed in the moonlight as if it was becoming alive.
"The Trickster is your brother," I told him. He looked confused, and he changed. There was another image of him, another look. A regal man with beautiful blond locks tumbled gently across his shoulder, wearing a flashy and impractical armor. Then the same man with short hair and beard with a lot of leather. He trembled, and he shaped back to himself as I know.
"I don't understand," he said.
"The world is changing," I told him, "the gods are changing. We are, after all, the will of the worshipers. You should ask your brother for help."
"You will help me," he seemed visibly frustrated. He shot his arm like a bullet to the tree I was sitting on. It uprooted and flew back into the woods with several cracks and whistles, "you will help me." He repeated.
Eloquent fellow, my nephew.
"No, I am spending my retirement playing terrible music. I'm getting tired of being worshiped as a god of cunning and lies. Do you know how hard I had worked for that title before it slipped away?"
"Urgh!!" He cried. Then he grabbed me by the neck and lifted me up like a rag doll, "You don't get to walk away from being a god."
I transformed into a quicksilver and slipped into the ground. Then I reshaped out of his reach, "do I get to melt away?" I asked with my ignorance.
"Uncle," he said. There was no more anger in his eyes. He was just there, with his glory and fame and godhood. And he was still a lost wolf pup that I had raised for millennia, "uncle, I cannot force you to do it. I cannot trick you to do it. I can only beg." His eyes were so blue, so fearsome, and so earnest.
"I'm not as intelligent as you are, but I know that we need you. We need to defeat the frost giants."
Maybe my heart had been firmer as a trickster. Or maybe it was nicer to had some leverage over a powerful warrior god. Maybe it was a little bit of both. I cocked my head and smiled at him a terrible grin.
"Hmm," I said, "what if instead of tricking the frost giants this time, we make them our comrades? They will never steal your hammer again."
"I don't want to be friends with them, uncle. The frost giants, they are mischievous and untrustworthy."
I flashed him a little teeth. My nephew eventually blushed and looked away.
"What if," I said, looking at my flute. Too bad, I was just getting a hang of it, "there is a terrible threat to them. A threat that is so easy for us to fix because of your relationship with powerful humans." I tried to hide glee in my eyes.
"A threat that, if they don't deal with soon, will terminate their race forever until we rebegin."
"What are you talking about, uncle?" He asked.
I rolled my eyes at him, pretending not to care, feeling the heartbeat of mine again, fast and strong. I did not have much in my ways of magic, and one day I would be tied in the underworld long before the end, but still. The rush of pulling such heist was beckoning me, making me drunk with excitement. It was almost like lust.
"My sweet, gentle, docile nephew," I whispered, "have you ever heard of 'Global Warming?' " | "You don't get to just walk away from being a god"
Those words rang out, imperious, forbidding. I took one last glance at Paradise and jumped.
As I sped towards Earth, the wind whistling past, I stayed alert for any who tried to follow.
None did.
The clouds parted beneath me, revealing the blue and green expanse below. I angled my approach, aiming for the large glittering city that dominated the landscape. I slammed into the concrete, sending shards cascading outwards to screams from the humans gathered around.
I stepped out of the crater and gazed down upon them.
How do you stop being a God?
By becoming a Devil.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
r/AMSWrites | |
[WP] "You don't get to just walk away from being a god" | The man lied in the in the shallow black pool of liquid that was held in the center of the dark room. He felt the reverberations around him, those of *It* and *Its* workings. But he wasn’t awake. Not exactly. He was there but not. He felt and saw everything around him but he didn’t *care.* Like being detached from your own body, but still in control.
*Wake up.* A course digital and mechanical voice churned from its screens in the wall, which glowed a faint red light. *I said wake up.*
The man stood, slowly. Yet not with care. Like a husk, following commands. Like a soulless puppet.
*Do you know the effort it took to get you here?”* It said, as mechanical “arms” started to rise from the pool. *Do you know what your purpose here is?*
Its voice echoed, as the man stood still.
*You are my vessel. You are my physical form. Something to deceive them. The things below. They hunger for a prophet. They ask for a hero. And they crave a leader. So I’ll give them more. I’ll give them... a god.*
The man looked at the screen, looked at *It*, and blinked. He gasped for air, and fell to his knees. He shook. He was awake.
*There you are* It said. *Stand up.*
He coughed up liquid, and he looked around.
“Fuck you.” He said, as he turned away. “I don’t want to be your ‘vessel.’ I don’t want to be your god. I won’t let those people suffer. Not after what you’ve done to them.”
*You don’t understand* It cackled, as mechanical things came out of the walls, and the arms from the pool started coursing with red energy. *Do you think you are in control? Do you think you can just leave? No. You don’t get to walk away from being a god.*
The energy spiked, and tendrils of it went into the man’s torso. It flowed into him, and then retracted. His wounds started to heal...
And the color of his eyes was a glowing, digital red.
“Finally.” He said, as he took a deep breath. “It is done.”
He smiled, and started to laugh. Small wisps of red energy flowed from his hands, and dissipated into the air.
“It is time for them to meet their prophet. It is time for them to meet their god.”
| "I was never a god but a mere fool," Karreo said to the young, bloody soldier, as he walked away from the corpse-crammed battlefield toward the barren lands far in the horizon. Each of his steps scorched the ground, leaving sizzling coils of smoke in his wake.
There was a thud behind him and Karreo winced, the last man standing had finally fallen. How old was he? Fifteen? It didn't matter now, he was dead, and so were the thousands of warriors who had fought in that field.
Dawn blazed amidst the cloudless, gold-bathed skies, burning his face. He gazed directly at the sun, unblinking as his eyes reddened. "You gave me the might all men envy, the language of the winds, the tides and the flames. Yet you gave me no wisdom to fulfill my purpose."
Karreo halted, his eyes smoldered, yet he saw clearly. "Equilibrium, balance, peace among all men. A burden too great for me to carry, and it's clear to me now, that it overwhelms you too. These barren lands are proof. Nothing will ever grow here, for these are dead grounds, and they are of your making. If there was a leaf, even a single one, outshining, defying the sorrow, the gloom, perhaps I would believe that there's hope, and that I am mistaken, but there is none."
Karreo knelt and looked away. He felt the surface, dry and parched as it was, with his fingertips. "However, as I did, you recognized your ignorance long ago when you created me. We are fools, we can't bring balance to the mortals if there's no equilibrium within ourselves. We are beings of great might and weak minds."
"But we can change that, old one. For I have met men wiser than me, than you, yet none wise enough to carry our burden. Yet, the wisdom of thousands, perhaps, can. And so I plead you allow me to give away the might you gave me, to split it into ten trees, whose roots will wrap the core of the Earth and feed those yet unborn."
Karreo dug out ten seeds from his blood-covered robe. "And those trees shall grow here, in these lands of death, as a reminder of our folly. Let life burgeon, old one. Let the wise and mighty do what we could not. Let them rule, they will bring balance, for they *are* balance."
With a subtle blow at his palm, Karreo let the winds carry the seeds inside the ten fissures he had chosen. "Answer me," he demanded. "Answer me!"
And so a green leaf danced in front of Karreo. It didn't follow the pattern of the winds, it circled and twirled and pirouetted through the air, composing its own music, pursuing its own choreography. In the end, once Karreo smiled, it swayed gracefully toward the ground, outshining the gloom.
Karreo's feet detached from the ground. His body cracked like a glass mid-shatter and ten tendrils of starry, blue light burst out from inside him, following the winds toward the seeds, and feeding them with a fragment of his soul.
The winds hissed and the tides cried and the flames crackled, and through them, Karreo spoke his final words.
"At last, I leave in peace."
-------------------------------------------------
/r/therobertfall -- For more stories! | |
[WP] "You don't get to just walk away from being a god" | A debugger is a person who makes sure that the code has no errors or recursions.
They will run the program, find some flaws, test it, challenge it, try to break it. The idea is to fill those nooks nobody sees on their first run or to optimize the data so it is more streamlined.
With this in mind, I thought I could fill the position that was given to me after that battle. The one I was forced to make a decision and lead me to end her life to escape her nightmare.
When I returned to what was supposed to be my reality, things had already changed.
I had lost a lot of the people I cared, so the feeling of emptiness could be easily justified. The fact of the matter was that it wasn't just a feeling, but a baffling discovery: somehow Earth had emptied entirely and I was its sole inhabitant.
"Seems like you screwed up." A voice came from above, prompting to tilt my head upwards. What I found would be categorized as strange, but by that time nothing phased anymore: it was a young man dressed in white robes with a shining chromed armor and a green sash that hung from his left shoulder down to his right hip. On his hip there was a leather belt that had a scabbard attached and in that there was a sword with a silver handle and a point that reminded me of a quill. He gently descended to ground level and it was there were I could view his facial features better, golden eyes and white hair as fresh snow. Said hair was cut in a bob, with an exception of an extra on the bag that he had tied in a lower ponytail and had moved the ends of it to his right shoulder. "Mind if I give you a hand?"
"Who are you?" I asked. I shifted my body to a more defensive stance just in case.
"Don't worry, I'm not here to hurt you. Just to give you the gist of the job."
"What job?"
The celestial being smiled at me and shook his head in amused disbelief.
"To put it bluntly, you've become God of this world."
"God?"
I recalled that she had also referred herself as such previous to the battle we had, mocking her muse by asking him where was his. Suddenly, I began to feel somewhat lightheaded.
"Yep." The being nodded at me. "God of all this world. You defeated the previous one and now have their post. It's strange actually, I was under the impression that this world didn't have one in the first place. To find out that there was *and* said God was taken down as quickly as they came. . ."
Shigeru's words echoed in my mind. A determined look and a defiant stance.
'*There's no god*'.
Was he aware of this? If godhood was an established position that *did* exist, why wasn't it being filled?
". . . which takes me back to you." His unusual visitor had seemingly continued his monologue without paying attention on whether or not he was listening. "As this world's God, you can do anything that you want so long as you don't tilt the balance of it too far off. You wouldn't want to break things, would you?"
"What can I do?" I asked aimlessly. It was more a question for myself than the person in front of me.
"Basically, you can do *anything*. This is *your* realm now. Though, do notice that it is far more easy to 'ascend' away from this place and do your bidding without being watched than being a part of the world. In fact, it is kind of a silent rule all dimensions follow. Most of the time, conscious beings can't handle meeting their creators and it usually causes a terrible chain reaction."
I thought about his proposal and what I could do with it. Became much brighter and exciting.
Remorse came knocking in as soon as I was listing on my mind the top priorities I had for this canvas that was given to me.
"Who are you?" I asked out of curiosity rather than politeness.
"The name's Shiro and I'm a Dimensional Warrior. You don't need that many details but let's just say I'll keep a watch on what you do here. Maybe give you a hint or two on what you can do."
---
The first week, I attempted the scenario described on the Bible in the order I could best remember: first was the spark of light that created everything, followed by the sun, the moon, the planets, other stars and planets, plasma and general matter. I realized by the third day, as I was "splitting the sea from the land" that I could just accelerate creation at my whim and that following the steps of the book were tedious and unnecessary.
The next day, I brought back everything as I knew it.
There were houses with people, traffic in the streets and I woke up in my bed at 2 in the afternoon as I used to.
Sitting on my bed while brushing my eye, I noticed a message from Rick regarding a project we had been working a couple of weeks ago.
I had to remind myself that I had basically restarted the world and put it back to place as I felt it best.
> -You got the today's assignment?
> -Yeah, thnx.
> -Thank *you* buddy. Couldn't do it without ya. Drinks are on me when we are done!
He never did ever pay the drinks, I muttered as I went to my desk to start work on this project.
The code attached, however, wasn't anything I'd seen before.
It was endless, archaic and had command lines that extended far from what my screen could handle.
The code was so big, it began to appear *on* the computer screen itself, flooding out and filling every corner of the walls of my room, the floor, the bed, myself.
A gut feeling told me that this code literately ran the world.
It made sense considering that most of the stuff I had created had been via coding and what I was basically doing was to recreate the world as best as I remembered, recycling some objects and make them run their usual queries.
But programs always had a limitation, a thought crept in my mind bringing a chill on my spine that made me tremble, and there could be exceptions they cannot execute.
The rest of the evening, and the following days, I worked on the code that was presented to me as best as I could.
First, I needed to translate the coding into something more object friendly and less jarring. For the purpose of this, I chose a mixture of C++ for the basic core and Javascript for a easy to access and friendly HUD I could summon to make quick edits or debug on site.
I calculated that the primary cleanup took me at least a month, one that I began to notice I didn't need to eat, sleep or do any of a human's typical physiological necessities.
When Rick's messages regarding the project that was 'given' to me, which I presumed was more of a in universe prompt to work on the code for the universe I inhabited, became annoying I ran a small test to rewind time back to when the message was first sent.
This had two purposes: to see if any interaction with the code would revert and to just keep Rick quiet about it.
It didn't take long for me to realize that Rick himself was an object that could be called upon and change with enough modifications to his code.
Same with my mother, my sister, my house, my surroundings, the weather, the light from the sun, *her*. . .
She was within the priorities. I brought her back to life as soon as I could.
I saw her on that one time I bothered to visit the University I used to attend in order to make sure things were tidy and scripted accordingly. There she was on her own but she seemed much more cheerful and was soon joined by a two classmates whom she engaged in conversation, one male and one female. They were based on characters she had once created for a story, which oddly enough were based on real people. A recursion. Those were always tricky to pull right, I noted.
The feeling that the place I inhabited was artificial began to eat me around the 20th time I repeated that month. Afterwards, I'd simply stopped the prompt from Rick to happen and had decided to isolate myself from the world in order to work on it properly. The sun rose and went down countless of times but I had already lost the need to even notice it.
And yet the code kept going and going, a cascade of endless variables that would just break down further the notion of my reality.
The biggest breakdown came when I decided to take a peek at my own coding. Surely enough, I was also composed of code, but it was clear that his hierarchy allowed me to do things as I wanted. And if such was the case. . .
---
^(*Continued in the next comment.*)
^(Edit: I realized that for some reason I had switched to third person for no reason. That's been fixed now. I suppose I should be more wary when I get to write stories at my workplace : P )
| "I was never a god but a mere fool," Karreo said to the young, bloody soldier, as he walked away from the corpse-crammed battlefield toward the barren lands far in the horizon. Each of his steps scorched the ground, leaving sizzling coils of smoke in his wake.
There was a thud behind him and Karreo winced, the last man standing had finally fallen. How old was he? Fifteen? It didn't matter now, he was dead, and so were the thousands of warriors who had fought in that field.
Dawn blazed amidst the cloudless, gold-bathed skies, burning his face. He gazed directly at the sun, unblinking as his eyes reddened. "You gave me the might all men envy, the language of the winds, the tides and the flames. Yet you gave me no wisdom to fulfill my purpose."
Karreo halted, his eyes smoldered, yet he saw clearly. "Equilibrium, balance, peace among all men. A burden too great for me to carry, and it's clear to me now, that it overwhelms you too. These barren lands are proof. Nothing will ever grow here, for these are dead grounds, and they are of your making. If there was a leaf, even a single one, outshining, defying the sorrow, the gloom, perhaps I would believe that there's hope, and that I am mistaken, but there is none."
Karreo knelt and looked away. He felt the surface, dry and parched as it was, with his fingertips. "However, as I did, you recognized your ignorance long ago when you created me. We are fools, we can't bring balance to the mortals if there's no equilibrium within ourselves. We are beings of great might and weak minds."
"But we can change that, old one. For I have met men wiser than me, than you, yet none wise enough to carry our burden. Yet, the wisdom of thousands, perhaps, can. And so I plead you allow me to give away the might you gave me, to split it into ten trees, whose roots will wrap the core of the Earth and feed those yet unborn."
Karreo dug out ten seeds from his blood-covered robe. "And those trees shall grow here, in these lands of death, as a reminder of our folly. Let life burgeon, old one. Let the wise and mighty do what we could not. Let them rule, they will bring balance, for they *are* balance."
With a subtle blow at his palm, Karreo let the winds carry the seeds inside the ten fissures he had chosen. "Answer me," he demanded. "Answer me!"
And so a green leaf danced in front of Karreo. It didn't follow the pattern of the winds, it circled and twirled and pirouetted through the air, composing its own music, pursuing its own choreography. In the end, once Karreo smiled, it swayed gracefully toward the ground, outshining the gloom.
Karreo's feet detached from the ground. His body cracked like a glass mid-shatter and ten tendrils of starry, blue light burst out from inside him, following the winds toward the seeds, and feeding them with a fragment of his soul.
The winds hissed and the tides cried and the flames crackled, and through them, Karreo spoke his final words.
"At last, I leave in peace."
-------------------------------------------------
/r/therobertfall -- For more stories! | |
[WP] "You don't get to just walk away from being a god" | The man lied in the in the shallow black pool of liquid that was held in the center of the dark room. He felt the reverberations around him, those of *It* and *Its* workings. But he wasn’t awake. Not exactly. He was there but not. He felt and saw everything around him but he didn’t *care.* Like being detached from your own body, but still in control.
*Wake up.* A course digital and mechanical voice churned from its screens in the wall, which glowed a faint red light. *I said wake up.*
The man stood, slowly. Yet not with care. Like a husk, following commands. Like a soulless puppet.
*Do you know the effort it took to get you here?”* It said, as mechanical “arms” started to rise from the pool. *Do you know what your purpose here is?*
Its voice echoed, as the man stood still.
*You are my vessel. You are my physical form. Something to deceive them. The things below. They hunger for a prophet. They ask for a hero. And they crave a leader. So I’ll give them more. I’ll give them... a god.*
The man looked at the screen, looked at *It*, and blinked. He gasped for air, and fell to his knees. He shook. He was awake.
*There you are* It said. *Stand up.*
He coughed up liquid, and he looked around.
“Fuck you.” He said, as he turned away. “I don’t want to be your ‘vessel.’ I don’t want to be your god. I won’t let those people suffer. Not after what you’ve done to them.”
*You don’t understand* It cackled, as mechanical things came out of the walls, and the arms from the pool started coursing with red energy. *Do you think you are in control? Do you think you can just leave? No. You don’t get to walk away from being a god.*
The energy spiked, and tendrils of it went into the man’s torso. It flowed into him, and then retracted. His wounds started to heal...
And the color of his eyes was a glowing, digital red.
“Finally.” He said, as he took a deep breath. “It is done.”
He smiled, and started to laugh. Small wisps of red energy flowed from his hands, and dissipated into the air.
“It is time for them to meet their prophet. It is time for them to meet their god.”
| "You do not get to just walk away from being a God!" Kroden's voice rang across King Cadence's ears as he tried to prop himself up near the foot of his throne. "I gave you immortality, a place in the Pantheon, I reforged you into the man you are today and you spat back in my face!" Cadence could barely register any of the words.
He had succeeded in pushing his back to a leg of the throne and could see Kroden making his way through the pool of blood and over the motionless bodies of his son and his most skilled soldier.
Kroden started climbing the stair to the throne and barked "I want the Hammer, Cadence. Far too long have I waited." He knelt before Cadence as he reached the dais and held a knife at Cadence's chest. Cadence could feel the cold of the knife piercing his flesh along with his mortality which was returning at its slow but assured pace. He could feel the lines on his face etch themselves back into the folds of his skin. His face had started to loosen up reminding him of his old age from not too long ago.
"The throne will never choose you Kroden," Cadence coughed and spewed blood, "and without me, you will never get the Hammer of Trivendore."
Kroden swung his fist across the King's face. "I never wanted your --". Kroden was cut short as Cadence grabbed his arm and impaled himself on the knife.
"The throne chooses the king, you fool, and only the king knows of the Hammer," Cadence blurted out before slumping forward into Kadence's arms.
The throne turned to ashes before Kroden's eyes and crumbled down in a heap of rubble. He flung Cadence's body aside to lunge forward towards the throne but was knocked back by an invisible hand. The Royal Hall imploded taking with it the blood and bones of an honourable king and the history of a weapon long forgotten.
----
----
**4 YEARS AGO**
Spyros paced the length of the Royal Hall vaguely aware of the Prince's eyes on him.
"My uncle is not one to accept rejection and certainly not one of this scale," Spyros spoke. He was unsure of what prompted the King to turn down the offer. The old man could certainly use godhood given his condition.
"Be that as it may, your uncle is not the most generous of Gods either. He must certainly want something in return. When will father come back?" Spyros stopped pacing to find the Prince lost in thought, staring at the door.
"He should be here by noon and I for one would like to see what the King has to say about all of this."
---
It wasn't until later that night that Spyros was informed of the King's return and that the King was waiting for him in his chambers. Spyros begrudgingly made his way into the Crystal Dome and through the Royal Hall only to find Prince Vernier waiting for him near the throne.
"Don't look so distraught, you will get to see her soon," Vernier said trying and failing to hide the smirk from his face.
"Oh shut up. I had paid upfront, that is what bothers me."
"All that money and you splurge on nightly comforts," Vernier sighed, "Let's go, father is waiting."
Spyros followed the Prince into the King's chambers wondering where his friendship ended and his duty began. As they reached the door, he tried to remind himself of what the King had told him when he first enlisted in the Crystal Guard.
"Spyros, you are going to protect my son one day. He shall always be your friend first and your Prince later but he will also be both and at the same time." That never made sense to Spyros but it came back to him every now and then.
Vernier knocked on the door once and entered with Spyros following his footsteps. Both of them stood side by side in front of the king who was seated on the edge of his bed and looked the same as he had always been. Tired, weathered down face with sad brown eyes and his peppered beard.
Both of them waited for the king to say something who simply smiled at them and said, "I accepted your Uncle's offer, dear Spy, I hope to make the best of it." | |
[WP] "You don't get to just walk away from being a god" | A debugger is a person who makes sure that the code has no errors or recursions.
They will run the program, find some flaws, test it, challenge it, try to break it. The idea is to fill those nooks nobody sees on their first run or to optimize the data so it is more streamlined.
With this in mind, I thought I could fill the position that was given to me after that battle. The one I was forced to make a decision and lead me to end her life to escape her nightmare.
When I returned to what was supposed to be my reality, things had already changed.
I had lost a lot of the people I cared, so the feeling of emptiness could be easily justified. The fact of the matter was that it wasn't just a feeling, but a baffling discovery: somehow Earth had emptied entirely and I was its sole inhabitant.
"Seems like you screwed up." A voice came from above, prompting to tilt my head upwards. What I found would be categorized as strange, but by that time nothing phased anymore: it was a young man dressed in white robes with a shining chromed armor and a green sash that hung from his left shoulder down to his right hip. On his hip there was a leather belt that had a scabbard attached and in that there was a sword with a silver handle and a point that reminded me of a quill. He gently descended to ground level and it was there were I could view his facial features better, golden eyes and white hair as fresh snow. Said hair was cut in a bob, with an exception of an extra on the bag that he had tied in a lower ponytail and had moved the ends of it to his right shoulder. "Mind if I give you a hand?"
"Who are you?" I asked. I shifted my body to a more defensive stance just in case.
"Don't worry, I'm not here to hurt you. Just to give you the gist of the job."
"What job?"
The celestial being smiled at me and shook his head in amused disbelief.
"To put it bluntly, you've become God of this world."
"God?"
I recalled that she had also referred herself as such previous to the battle we had, mocking her muse by asking him where was his. Suddenly, I began to feel somewhat lightheaded.
"Yep." The being nodded at me. "God of all this world. You defeated the previous one and now have their post. It's strange actually, I was under the impression that this world didn't have one in the first place. To find out that there was *and* said God was taken down as quickly as they came. . ."
Shigeru's words echoed in my mind. A determined look and a defiant stance.
'*There's no god*'.
Was he aware of this? If godhood was an established position that *did* exist, why wasn't it being filled?
". . . which takes me back to you." His unusual visitor had seemingly continued his monologue without paying attention on whether or not he was listening. "As this world's God, you can do anything that you want so long as you don't tilt the balance of it too far off. You wouldn't want to break things, would you?"
"What can I do?" I asked aimlessly. It was more a question for myself than the person in front of me.
"Basically, you can do *anything*. This is *your* realm now. Though, do notice that it is far more easy to 'ascend' away from this place and do your bidding without being watched than being a part of the world. In fact, it is kind of a silent rule all dimensions follow. Most of the time, conscious beings can't handle meeting their creators and it usually causes a terrible chain reaction."
I thought about his proposal and what I could do with it. Became much brighter and exciting.
Remorse came knocking in as soon as I was listing on my mind the top priorities I had for this canvas that was given to me.
"Who are you?" I asked out of curiosity rather than politeness.
"The name's Shiro and I'm a Dimensional Warrior. You don't need that many details but let's just say I'll keep a watch on what you do here. Maybe give you a hint or two on what you can do."
---
The first week, I attempted the scenario described on the Bible in the order I could best remember: first was the spark of light that created everything, followed by the sun, the moon, the planets, other stars and planets, plasma and general matter. I realized by the third day, as I was "splitting the sea from the land" that I could just accelerate creation at my whim and that following the steps of the book were tedious and unnecessary.
The next day, I brought back everything as I knew it.
There were houses with people, traffic in the streets and I woke up in my bed at 2 in the afternoon as I used to.
Sitting on my bed while brushing my eye, I noticed a message from Rick regarding a project we had been working a couple of weeks ago.
I had to remind myself that I had basically restarted the world and put it back to place as I felt it best.
> -You got the today's assignment?
> -Yeah, thnx.
> -Thank *you* buddy. Couldn't do it without ya. Drinks are on me when we are done!
He never did ever pay the drinks, I muttered as I went to my desk to start work on this project.
The code attached, however, wasn't anything I'd seen before.
It was endless, archaic and had command lines that extended far from what my screen could handle.
The code was so big, it began to appear *on* the computer screen itself, flooding out and filling every corner of the walls of my room, the floor, the bed, myself.
A gut feeling told me that this code literately ran the world.
It made sense considering that most of the stuff I had created had been via coding and what I was basically doing was to recreate the world as best as I remembered, recycling some objects and make them run their usual queries.
But programs always had a limitation, a thought crept in my mind bringing a chill on my spine that made me tremble, and there could be exceptions they cannot execute.
The rest of the evening, and the following days, I worked on the code that was presented to me as best as I could.
First, I needed to translate the coding into something more object friendly and less jarring. For the purpose of this, I chose a mixture of C++ for the basic core and Javascript for a easy to access and friendly HUD I could summon to make quick edits or debug on site.
I calculated that the primary cleanup took me at least a month, one that I began to notice I didn't need to eat, sleep or do any of a human's typical physiological necessities.
When Rick's messages regarding the project that was 'given' to me, which I presumed was more of a in universe prompt to work on the code for the universe I inhabited, became annoying I ran a small test to rewind time back to when the message was first sent.
This had two purposes: to see if any interaction with the code would revert and to just keep Rick quiet about it.
It didn't take long for me to realize that Rick himself was an object that could be called upon and change with enough modifications to his code.
Same with my mother, my sister, my house, my surroundings, the weather, the light from the sun, *her*. . .
She was within the priorities. I brought her back to life as soon as I could.
I saw her on that one time I bothered to visit the University I used to attend in order to make sure things were tidy and scripted accordingly. There she was on her own but she seemed much more cheerful and was soon joined by a two classmates whom she engaged in conversation, one male and one female. They were based on characters she had once created for a story, which oddly enough were based on real people. A recursion. Those were always tricky to pull right, I noted.
The feeling that the place I inhabited was artificial began to eat me around the 20th time I repeated that month. Afterwards, I'd simply stopped the prompt from Rick to happen and had decided to isolate myself from the world in order to work on it properly. The sun rose and went down countless of times but I had already lost the need to even notice it.
And yet the code kept going and going, a cascade of endless variables that would just break down further the notion of my reality.
The biggest breakdown came when I decided to take a peek at my own coding. Surely enough, I was also composed of code, but it was clear that his hierarchy allowed me to do things as I wanted. And if such was the case. . .
---
^(*Continued in the next comment.*)
^(Edit: I realized that for some reason I had switched to third person for no reason. That's been fixed now. I suppose I should be more wary when I get to write stories at my workplace : P )
| "You do not get to just walk away from being a God!" Kroden's voice rang across King Cadence's ears as he tried to prop himself up near the foot of his throne. "I gave you immortality, a place in the Pantheon, I reforged you into the man you are today and you spat back in my face!" Cadence could barely register any of the words.
He had succeeded in pushing his back to a leg of the throne and could see Kroden making his way through the pool of blood and over the motionless bodies of his son and his most skilled soldier.
Kroden started climbing the stair to the throne and barked "I want the Hammer, Cadence. Far too long have I waited." He knelt before Cadence as he reached the dais and held a knife at Cadence's chest. Cadence could feel the cold of the knife piercing his flesh along with his mortality which was returning at its slow but assured pace. He could feel the lines on his face etch themselves back into the folds of his skin. His face had started to loosen up reminding him of his old age from not too long ago.
"The throne will never choose you Kroden," Cadence coughed and spewed blood, "and without me, you will never get the Hammer of Trivendore."
Kroden swung his fist across the King's face. "I never wanted your --". Kroden was cut short as Cadence grabbed his arm and impaled himself on the knife.
"The throne chooses the king, you fool, and only the king knows of the Hammer," Cadence blurted out before slumping forward into Kadence's arms.
The throne turned to ashes before Kroden's eyes and crumbled down in a heap of rubble. He flung Cadence's body aside to lunge forward towards the throne but was knocked back by an invisible hand. The Royal Hall imploded taking with it the blood and bones of an honourable king and the history of a weapon long forgotten.
----
----
**4 YEARS AGO**
Spyros paced the length of the Royal Hall vaguely aware of the Prince's eyes on him.
"My uncle is not one to accept rejection and certainly not one of this scale," Spyros spoke. He was unsure of what prompted the King to turn down the offer. The old man could certainly use godhood given his condition.
"Be that as it may, your uncle is not the most generous of Gods either. He must certainly want something in return. When will father come back?" Spyros stopped pacing to find the Prince lost in thought, staring at the door.
"He should be here by noon and I for one would like to see what the King has to say about all of this."
---
It wasn't until later that night that Spyros was informed of the King's return and that the King was waiting for him in his chambers. Spyros begrudgingly made his way into the Crystal Dome and through the Royal Hall only to find Prince Vernier waiting for him near the throne.
"Don't look so distraught, you will get to see her soon," Vernier said trying and failing to hide the smirk from his face.
"Oh shut up. I had paid upfront, that is what bothers me."
"All that money and you splurge on nightly comforts," Vernier sighed, "Let's go, father is waiting."
Spyros followed the Prince into the King's chambers wondering where his friendship ended and his duty began. As they reached the door, he tried to remind himself of what the King had told him when he first enlisted in the Crystal Guard.
"Spyros, you are going to protect my son one day. He shall always be your friend first and your Prince later but he will also be both and at the same time." That never made sense to Spyros but it came back to him every now and then.
Vernier knocked on the door once and entered with Spyros following his footsteps. Both of them stood side by side in front of the king who was seated on the edge of his bed and looked the same as he had always been. Tired, weathered down face with sad brown eyes and his peppered beard.
Both of them waited for the king to say something who simply smiled at them and said, "I accepted your Uncle's offer, dear Spy, I hope to make the best of it." | |
[WP] "You don't get to just walk away from being a god" | The man lied in the in the shallow black pool of liquid that was held in the center of the dark room. He felt the reverberations around him, those of *It* and *Its* workings. But he wasn’t awake. Not exactly. He was there but not. He felt and saw everything around him but he didn’t *care.* Like being detached from your own body, but still in control.
*Wake up.* A course digital and mechanical voice churned from its screens in the wall, which glowed a faint red light. *I said wake up.*
The man stood, slowly. Yet not with care. Like a husk, following commands. Like a soulless puppet.
*Do you know the effort it took to get you here?”* It said, as mechanical “arms” started to rise from the pool. *Do you know what your purpose here is?*
Its voice echoed, as the man stood still.
*You are my vessel. You are my physical form. Something to deceive them. The things below. They hunger for a prophet. They ask for a hero. And they crave a leader. So I’ll give them more. I’ll give them... a god.*
The man looked at the screen, looked at *It*, and blinked. He gasped for air, and fell to his knees. He shook. He was awake.
*There you are* It said. *Stand up.*
He coughed up liquid, and he looked around.
“Fuck you.” He said, as he turned away. “I don’t want to be your ‘vessel.’ I don’t want to be your god. I won’t let those people suffer. Not after what you’ve done to them.”
*You don’t understand* It cackled, as mechanical things came out of the walls, and the arms from the pool started coursing with red energy. *Do you think you are in control? Do you think you can just leave? No. You don’t get to walk away from being a god.*
The energy spiked, and tendrils of it went into the man’s torso. It flowed into him, and then retracted. His wounds started to heal...
And the color of his eyes was a glowing, digital red.
“Finally.” He said, as he took a deep breath. “It is done.”
He smiled, and started to laugh. Small wisps of red energy flowed from his hands, and dissipated into the air.
“It is time for them to meet their prophet. It is time for them to meet their god.”
| “You don’t just walk away from being a god!” Screeched Wrgeldref, Sfghilaf’ s mother and goddess of conspiracy . “I’m sorry Mother” replied Sfghilaf “I never wanted to be king of the gods, I want to be an adventurer! Killing evil beasts, marrying princesses, learning the power of friendship, that’s the life for me!” He sighed with happiness at his dreams. Wrgeldref looked at him anger and disappointment in her face. “You’re not supposed to become an adventurer! They’re supposed to be tools for killing monsters you created!” She said completely exasperated “Besides you can get all the mortal princesses you want if you help me banish the king to eternal torture so we can put you on the throne!” Sfghilaf looked disgusted at his mother “You want me to rape mortals? I want to earn their love by saving them from a dragon!” Horrified at his mother’s plans for him he teleported himself to the planet below and sealed his immortality into a small inconspicuous wooden ring that he conjured. He adjusted his chain mail and started wandering towards the nearest city. | |
[WP] "You don't get to just walk away from being a god" | A debugger is a person who makes sure that the code has no errors or recursions.
They will run the program, find some flaws, test it, challenge it, try to break it. The idea is to fill those nooks nobody sees on their first run or to optimize the data so it is more streamlined.
With this in mind, I thought I could fill the position that was given to me after that battle. The one I was forced to make a decision and lead me to end her life to escape her nightmare.
When I returned to what was supposed to be my reality, things had already changed.
I had lost a lot of the people I cared, so the feeling of emptiness could be easily justified. The fact of the matter was that it wasn't just a feeling, but a baffling discovery: somehow Earth had emptied entirely and I was its sole inhabitant.
"Seems like you screwed up." A voice came from above, prompting to tilt my head upwards. What I found would be categorized as strange, but by that time nothing phased anymore: it was a young man dressed in white robes with a shining chromed armor and a green sash that hung from his left shoulder down to his right hip. On his hip there was a leather belt that had a scabbard attached and in that there was a sword with a silver handle and a point that reminded me of a quill. He gently descended to ground level and it was there were I could view his facial features better, golden eyes and white hair as fresh snow. Said hair was cut in a bob, with an exception of an extra on the bag that he had tied in a lower ponytail and had moved the ends of it to his right shoulder. "Mind if I give you a hand?"
"Who are you?" I asked. I shifted my body to a more defensive stance just in case.
"Don't worry, I'm not here to hurt you. Just to give you the gist of the job."
"What job?"
The celestial being smiled at me and shook his head in amused disbelief.
"To put it bluntly, you've become God of this world."
"God?"
I recalled that she had also referred herself as such previous to the battle we had, mocking her muse by asking him where was his. Suddenly, I began to feel somewhat lightheaded.
"Yep." The being nodded at me. "God of all this world. You defeated the previous one and now have their post. It's strange actually, I was under the impression that this world didn't have one in the first place. To find out that there was *and* said God was taken down as quickly as they came. . ."
Shigeru's words echoed in my mind. A determined look and a defiant stance.
'*There's no god*'.
Was he aware of this? If godhood was an established position that *did* exist, why wasn't it being filled?
". . . which takes me back to you." His unusual visitor had seemingly continued his monologue without paying attention on whether or not he was listening. "As this world's God, you can do anything that you want so long as you don't tilt the balance of it too far off. You wouldn't want to break things, would you?"
"What can I do?" I asked aimlessly. It was more a question for myself than the person in front of me.
"Basically, you can do *anything*. This is *your* realm now. Though, do notice that it is far more easy to 'ascend' away from this place and do your bidding without being watched than being a part of the world. In fact, it is kind of a silent rule all dimensions follow. Most of the time, conscious beings can't handle meeting their creators and it usually causes a terrible chain reaction."
I thought about his proposal and what I could do with it. Became much brighter and exciting.
Remorse came knocking in as soon as I was listing on my mind the top priorities I had for this canvas that was given to me.
"Who are you?" I asked out of curiosity rather than politeness.
"The name's Shiro and I'm a Dimensional Warrior. You don't need that many details but let's just say I'll keep a watch on what you do here. Maybe give you a hint or two on what you can do."
---
The first week, I attempted the scenario described on the Bible in the order I could best remember: first was the spark of light that created everything, followed by the sun, the moon, the planets, other stars and planets, plasma and general matter. I realized by the third day, as I was "splitting the sea from the land" that I could just accelerate creation at my whim and that following the steps of the book were tedious and unnecessary.
The next day, I brought back everything as I knew it.
There were houses with people, traffic in the streets and I woke up in my bed at 2 in the afternoon as I used to.
Sitting on my bed while brushing my eye, I noticed a message from Rick regarding a project we had been working a couple of weeks ago.
I had to remind myself that I had basically restarted the world and put it back to place as I felt it best.
> -You got the today's assignment?
> -Yeah, thnx.
> -Thank *you* buddy. Couldn't do it without ya. Drinks are on me when we are done!
He never did ever pay the drinks, I muttered as I went to my desk to start work on this project.
The code attached, however, wasn't anything I'd seen before.
It was endless, archaic and had command lines that extended far from what my screen could handle.
The code was so big, it began to appear *on* the computer screen itself, flooding out and filling every corner of the walls of my room, the floor, the bed, myself.
A gut feeling told me that this code literately ran the world.
It made sense considering that most of the stuff I had created had been via coding and what I was basically doing was to recreate the world as best as I remembered, recycling some objects and make them run their usual queries.
But programs always had a limitation, a thought crept in my mind bringing a chill on my spine that made me tremble, and there could be exceptions they cannot execute.
The rest of the evening, and the following days, I worked on the code that was presented to me as best as I could.
First, I needed to translate the coding into something more object friendly and less jarring. For the purpose of this, I chose a mixture of C++ for the basic core and Javascript for a easy to access and friendly HUD I could summon to make quick edits or debug on site.
I calculated that the primary cleanup took me at least a month, one that I began to notice I didn't need to eat, sleep or do any of a human's typical physiological necessities.
When Rick's messages regarding the project that was 'given' to me, which I presumed was more of a in universe prompt to work on the code for the universe I inhabited, became annoying I ran a small test to rewind time back to when the message was first sent.
This had two purposes: to see if any interaction with the code would revert and to just keep Rick quiet about it.
It didn't take long for me to realize that Rick himself was an object that could be called upon and change with enough modifications to his code.
Same with my mother, my sister, my house, my surroundings, the weather, the light from the sun, *her*. . .
She was within the priorities. I brought her back to life as soon as I could.
I saw her on that one time I bothered to visit the University I used to attend in order to make sure things were tidy and scripted accordingly. There she was on her own but she seemed much more cheerful and was soon joined by a two classmates whom she engaged in conversation, one male and one female. They were based on characters she had once created for a story, which oddly enough were based on real people. A recursion. Those were always tricky to pull right, I noted.
The feeling that the place I inhabited was artificial began to eat me around the 20th time I repeated that month. Afterwards, I'd simply stopped the prompt from Rick to happen and had decided to isolate myself from the world in order to work on it properly. The sun rose and went down countless of times but I had already lost the need to even notice it.
And yet the code kept going and going, a cascade of endless variables that would just break down further the notion of my reality.
The biggest breakdown came when I decided to take a peek at my own coding. Surely enough, I was also composed of code, but it was clear that his hierarchy allowed me to do things as I wanted. And if such was the case. . .
---
^(*Continued in the next comment.*)
^(Edit: I realized that for some reason I had switched to third person for no reason. That's been fixed now. I suppose I should be more wary when I get to write stories at my workplace : P )
| “You don’t just walk away from being a god!” Screeched Wrgeldref, Sfghilaf’ s mother and goddess of conspiracy . “I’m sorry Mother” replied Sfghilaf “I never wanted to be king of the gods, I want to be an adventurer! Killing evil beasts, marrying princesses, learning the power of friendship, that’s the life for me!” He sighed with happiness at his dreams. Wrgeldref looked at him anger and disappointment in her face. “You’re not supposed to become an adventurer! They’re supposed to be tools for killing monsters you created!” She said completely exasperated “Besides you can get all the mortal princesses you want if you help me banish the king to eternal torture so we can put you on the throne!” Sfghilaf looked disgusted at his mother “You want me to rape mortals? I want to earn their love by saving them from a dragon!” Horrified at his mother’s plans for him he teleported himself to the planet below and sealed his immortality into a small inconspicuous wooden ring that he conjured. He adjusted his chain mail and started wandering towards the nearest city. | |
[WP] "You don't get to just walk away from being a god" | The man lied in the in the shallow black pool of liquid that was held in the center of the dark room. He felt the reverberations around him, those of *It* and *Its* workings. But he wasn’t awake. Not exactly. He was there but not. He felt and saw everything around him but he didn’t *care.* Like being detached from your own body, but still in control.
*Wake up.* A course digital and mechanical voice churned from its screens in the wall, which glowed a faint red light. *I said wake up.*
The man stood, slowly. Yet not with care. Like a husk, following commands. Like a soulless puppet.
*Do you know the effort it took to get you here?”* It said, as mechanical “arms” started to rise from the pool. *Do you know what your purpose here is?*
Its voice echoed, as the man stood still.
*You are my vessel. You are my physical form. Something to deceive them. The things below. They hunger for a prophet. They ask for a hero. And they crave a leader. So I’ll give them more. I’ll give them... a god.*
The man looked at the screen, looked at *It*, and blinked. He gasped for air, and fell to his knees. He shook. He was awake.
*There you are* It said. *Stand up.*
He coughed up liquid, and he looked around.
“Fuck you.” He said, as he turned away. “I don’t want to be your ‘vessel.’ I don’t want to be your god. I won’t let those people suffer. Not after what you’ve done to them.”
*You don’t understand* It cackled, as mechanical things came out of the walls, and the arms from the pool started coursing with red energy. *Do you think you are in control? Do you think you can just leave? No. You don’t get to walk away from being a god.*
The energy spiked, and tendrils of it went into the man’s torso. It flowed into him, and then retracted. His wounds started to heal...
And the color of his eyes was a glowing, digital red.
“Finally.” He said, as he took a deep breath. “It is done.”
He smiled, and started to laugh. Small wisps of red energy flowed from his hands, and dissipated into the air.
“It is time for them to meet their prophet. It is time for them to meet their god.”
| The king huffed as he ran into his throne room, sword dragging against the rough marble floor. A pity, scratching such an ornate arrangement, a mosaic representation of someone, apparently dear to the people, had they commissioned such a request. The king looked around, not scared, but rather intrigued and contemplating. Outside, the uproar was unbelievable.
The crowd’s screams echoed throughout the emptiness of the throne room, screams of joy and victory. “May our acquisition be fit for the empire!” the bravest and boldest of them exclaimed. The king, soon to be former king, chuckled. As he made his way towards where he had sat for twenty years, a serpent of blood was born behind him. And it only kept getting longer.
His vision was blurry, his pace shaky and uncertain. Suddenly he closed his eyes, groaning softly, yet audibly, holding his right hand over his chest. Then, as if nothing had happened he continued his funerary march, towards what he wanted to be his deathbed. However, as his eyes moved from the floor to the throne, he could feel the blood pumping harder through his veins. The serpent grew a head.
“Greetings, Vodin,” the man sitting in the king’s throne said, as he lay there relaxed and collected. It wasn’t as if a couple of columns collapsed around him, the backrest was missing its top and the entire floor was covered in the king’s smeared blood. He saluted the king as you do with an old friend, long swallowed by the vicissitudes of time, forgotten.
“Oh, so now we greet each other. I thought enemies are supposed to spit and curse, not indulge in such pleasantries,” Vodin replied taciturn.
“Well, from time to time, even a god can find joy in something so menial as proper etiquette. So, how have you been, lately? It’s been a long time since we hadn’t really seen each other, Vodin. Put me up to speed. How’s the kingdom?”
Vodin didn’t respond. Instead, his hand clenched on his sword, any tighter and the grip would’ve cracked under his strength. His breathing got faster for two or three gasps, until, with a newfound agility, Vodin lunged at his interlocutor. To his dismay, however, the sword implanted itself in the red throne.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. After all I’ve done for you…this is how you repay me, dear Vodin. I saved you countless times and yet, you treat me so barbarically. As if with a sword you can conquer what you have now lost. It doesn’t turn back time, you know?”
This time, Vodin’s response was a quick tug of the sword, then a mouthful of blood spat on the ground. The king collapsed on the throne, his weapon falling at his feet. Vodin’s eyes dropped to the floor, as he sighed loudly.
“W…Why did you do this, Nomad?”
“You’re going to have to be more specific, Vodin. I’ve done many things to you lately…”
“Ha, I see that even in the harshest of times you still retain your idiotic humor…How childish…Why did you abandon us, Nomad?!” the king gathered his last bits of power to shout his angst at his betrayer. His reaction was subpar, a slight blink and all the strength in his words was whisked away. “T\-tell me, Nomad…after all the sacrifices…after all our prayers…after all the chores we had done, in your name…after you had requested to marry my daughter…after you took the last thing I loved and threw her away like a bag of grain, leaving her to rot away in an empty field…Why? Have we not satisfied your insatiable ego? Have we not been deemed worthy of your blessings? Tell me! Don’t just sit there as if you’re an innocent child getting scolded! Answer me, so that I may die at ease!”
Outside, the footsteps of many soldiers were approaching. Nomad didn’t reply at all. He stood there as the pool of blood beneath the king only grew wider and wider. Vodin’s life flowed away freely, leaving his body as it squirmed to the floor. It wasn’t much until Vodin’s vision got blurry, his hands shook as he could barely feel them. The hard chainmail was now barely tickling his inert skin, whereas before he was straining to wear it. Now it was but a light, weightless prison of his burdened houl.
“Don’t take it personal, Vodin. I, for one, happen to like you. Strong character, great leader, the first to put his heart on the table for his people only to have it ripped to pieces time and time again…I just…needed a break from all this god ordeal. Ironic, isn’t it? The god of pride and honor, of valiance and the steadfast renouncing his ideals…”
“Please…t\-tell me you are just fooling around with a dying man’s last wish…”
“Oh, I’m granting it, Vodin. You wanted to know why, and I’m delivering, if you’d stop interrupting me so that I could finish before you…you know. Pass away. Anyway, as I was saying…I got tired of this whole charade…Finding a city, establishing a pantheon, bind with the ruler, get to know the ruler, support the ruler, defend the ruler, you know you’re very selfish, right? I’ve had to defend you for so long and still, no respects. Rude.”
“I’ve given you…the last shred of my humanity…in exchange for the welfare of my people. What more can you ask of me, I’m only human…”
“True, you’ve given me...a lot. Still, I got bored with this. This isn’t my first Olympiad you know? I decided that you, humans, have so much more going for you. Given your…limited life, you know purpose, you know joys that transcend reason and plausibility…I want that. Being perfect and undying has its downsides, whether you accept it or not…”
“You…bastard…After all we’ve done for you…I burned down a damned city for your conflict with Aples…I went to war with our allies, backstabbed my own brother just so that you could have a land you were forbidden to. All that for you to say…you’re bored?”
“Precisely. I want to walk away from this whole god thing…pursue a mortal life. Find love, have children, you know, the regulars…”
“You can’t just walk away from being a God!” Vodin yelled, coughing the last bits of blood from his body. Tired, furious, betrayed, the king couldn’t help but let his head fall to the side. His crown slipped away, thudding on the ground. Nomad approached him, knowing that what he was going to say will be the last thing his longtime friend will hear.
“But…I just did. You humans have such a high standard for loyalty, for what I stand for…Safe to say, I am just the cute flower growing on a Foralisk’s head. May Them have mercy on you, Vodin.”
“G\-go…to…” He meant to say Below, but his tongue didn’t obey him anymore. The king’s heart stopped beating, right as the troops barged in, knocking the frail doors to the ground. The commander suddenly stopped. The scratches on Vodin’s mosaic were filled with the king’s crimson\-black blood. The former God now looked as if his skin was covered in dark, black veins, his face being completely red… | |
[WP] "You don't get to just walk away from being a god" | A debugger is a person who makes sure that the code has no errors or recursions.
They will run the program, find some flaws, test it, challenge it, try to break it. The idea is to fill those nooks nobody sees on their first run or to optimize the data so it is more streamlined.
With this in mind, I thought I could fill the position that was given to me after that battle. The one I was forced to make a decision and lead me to end her life to escape her nightmare.
When I returned to what was supposed to be my reality, things had already changed.
I had lost a lot of the people I cared, so the feeling of emptiness could be easily justified. The fact of the matter was that it wasn't just a feeling, but a baffling discovery: somehow Earth had emptied entirely and I was its sole inhabitant.
"Seems like you screwed up." A voice came from above, prompting to tilt my head upwards. What I found would be categorized as strange, but by that time nothing phased anymore: it was a young man dressed in white robes with a shining chromed armor and a green sash that hung from his left shoulder down to his right hip. On his hip there was a leather belt that had a scabbard attached and in that there was a sword with a silver handle and a point that reminded me of a quill. He gently descended to ground level and it was there were I could view his facial features better, golden eyes and white hair as fresh snow. Said hair was cut in a bob, with an exception of an extra on the bag that he had tied in a lower ponytail and had moved the ends of it to his right shoulder. "Mind if I give you a hand?"
"Who are you?" I asked. I shifted my body to a more defensive stance just in case.
"Don't worry, I'm not here to hurt you. Just to give you the gist of the job."
"What job?"
The celestial being smiled at me and shook his head in amused disbelief.
"To put it bluntly, you've become God of this world."
"God?"
I recalled that she had also referred herself as such previous to the battle we had, mocking her muse by asking him where was his. Suddenly, I began to feel somewhat lightheaded.
"Yep." The being nodded at me. "God of all this world. You defeated the previous one and now have their post. It's strange actually, I was under the impression that this world didn't have one in the first place. To find out that there was *and* said God was taken down as quickly as they came. . ."
Shigeru's words echoed in my mind. A determined look and a defiant stance.
'*There's no god*'.
Was he aware of this? If godhood was an established position that *did* exist, why wasn't it being filled?
". . . which takes me back to you." His unusual visitor had seemingly continued his monologue without paying attention on whether or not he was listening. "As this world's God, you can do anything that you want so long as you don't tilt the balance of it too far off. You wouldn't want to break things, would you?"
"What can I do?" I asked aimlessly. It was more a question for myself than the person in front of me.
"Basically, you can do *anything*. This is *your* realm now. Though, do notice that it is far more easy to 'ascend' away from this place and do your bidding without being watched than being a part of the world. In fact, it is kind of a silent rule all dimensions follow. Most of the time, conscious beings can't handle meeting their creators and it usually causes a terrible chain reaction."
I thought about his proposal and what I could do with it. Became much brighter and exciting.
Remorse came knocking in as soon as I was listing on my mind the top priorities I had for this canvas that was given to me.
"Who are you?" I asked out of curiosity rather than politeness.
"The name's Shiro and I'm a Dimensional Warrior. You don't need that many details but let's just say I'll keep a watch on what you do here. Maybe give you a hint or two on what you can do."
---
The first week, I attempted the scenario described on the Bible in the order I could best remember: first was the spark of light that created everything, followed by the sun, the moon, the planets, other stars and planets, plasma and general matter. I realized by the third day, as I was "splitting the sea from the land" that I could just accelerate creation at my whim and that following the steps of the book were tedious and unnecessary.
The next day, I brought back everything as I knew it.
There were houses with people, traffic in the streets and I woke up in my bed at 2 in the afternoon as I used to.
Sitting on my bed while brushing my eye, I noticed a message from Rick regarding a project we had been working a couple of weeks ago.
I had to remind myself that I had basically restarted the world and put it back to place as I felt it best.
> -You got the today's assignment?
> -Yeah, thnx.
> -Thank *you* buddy. Couldn't do it without ya. Drinks are on me when we are done!
He never did ever pay the drinks, I muttered as I went to my desk to start work on this project.
The code attached, however, wasn't anything I'd seen before.
It was endless, archaic and had command lines that extended far from what my screen could handle.
The code was so big, it began to appear *on* the computer screen itself, flooding out and filling every corner of the walls of my room, the floor, the bed, myself.
A gut feeling told me that this code literately ran the world.
It made sense considering that most of the stuff I had created had been via coding and what I was basically doing was to recreate the world as best as I remembered, recycling some objects and make them run their usual queries.
But programs always had a limitation, a thought crept in my mind bringing a chill on my spine that made me tremble, and there could be exceptions they cannot execute.
The rest of the evening, and the following days, I worked on the code that was presented to me as best as I could.
First, I needed to translate the coding into something more object friendly and less jarring. For the purpose of this, I chose a mixture of C++ for the basic core and Javascript for a easy to access and friendly HUD I could summon to make quick edits or debug on site.
I calculated that the primary cleanup took me at least a month, one that I began to notice I didn't need to eat, sleep or do any of a human's typical physiological necessities.
When Rick's messages regarding the project that was 'given' to me, which I presumed was more of a in universe prompt to work on the code for the universe I inhabited, became annoying I ran a small test to rewind time back to when the message was first sent.
This had two purposes: to see if any interaction with the code would revert and to just keep Rick quiet about it.
It didn't take long for me to realize that Rick himself was an object that could be called upon and change with enough modifications to his code.
Same with my mother, my sister, my house, my surroundings, the weather, the light from the sun, *her*. . .
She was within the priorities. I brought her back to life as soon as I could.
I saw her on that one time I bothered to visit the University I used to attend in order to make sure things were tidy and scripted accordingly. There she was on her own but she seemed much more cheerful and was soon joined by a two classmates whom she engaged in conversation, one male and one female. They were based on characters she had once created for a story, which oddly enough were based on real people. A recursion. Those were always tricky to pull right, I noted.
The feeling that the place I inhabited was artificial began to eat me around the 20th time I repeated that month. Afterwards, I'd simply stopped the prompt from Rick to happen and had decided to isolate myself from the world in order to work on it properly. The sun rose and went down countless of times but I had already lost the need to even notice it.
And yet the code kept going and going, a cascade of endless variables that would just break down further the notion of my reality.
The biggest breakdown came when I decided to take a peek at my own coding. Surely enough, I was also composed of code, but it was clear that his hierarchy allowed me to do things as I wanted. And if such was the case. . .
---
^(*Continued in the next comment.*)
^(Edit: I realized that for some reason I had switched to third person for no reason. That's been fixed now. I suppose I should be more wary when I get to write stories at my workplace : P )
| The king huffed as he ran into his throne room, sword dragging against the rough marble floor. A pity, scratching such an ornate arrangement, a mosaic representation of someone, apparently dear to the people, had they commissioned such a request. The king looked around, not scared, but rather intrigued and contemplating. Outside, the uproar was unbelievable.
The crowd’s screams echoed throughout the emptiness of the throne room, screams of joy and victory. “May our acquisition be fit for the empire!” the bravest and boldest of them exclaimed. The king, soon to be former king, chuckled. As he made his way towards where he had sat for twenty years, a serpent of blood was born behind him. And it only kept getting longer.
His vision was blurry, his pace shaky and uncertain. Suddenly he closed his eyes, groaning softly, yet audibly, holding his right hand over his chest. Then, as if nothing had happened he continued his funerary march, towards what he wanted to be his deathbed. However, as his eyes moved from the floor to the throne, he could feel the blood pumping harder through his veins. The serpent grew a head.
“Greetings, Vodin,” the man sitting in the king’s throne said, as he lay there relaxed and collected. It wasn’t as if a couple of columns collapsed around him, the backrest was missing its top and the entire floor was covered in the king’s smeared blood. He saluted the king as you do with an old friend, long swallowed by the vicissitudes of time, forgotten.
“Oh, so now we greet each other. I thought enemies are supposed to spit and curse, not indulge in such pleasantries,” Vodin replied taciturn.
“Well, from time to time, even a god can find joy in something so menial as proper etiquette. So, how have you been, lately? It’s been a long time since we hadn’t really seen each other, Vodin. Put me up to speed. How’s the kingdom?”
Vodin didn’t respond. Instead, his hand clenched on his sword, any tighter and the grip would’ve cracked under his strength. His breathing got faster for two or three gasps, until, with a newfound agility, Vodin lunged at his interlocutor. To his dismay, however, the sword implanted itself in the red throne.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. After all I’ve done for you…this is how you repay me, dear Vodin. I saved you countless times and yet, you treat me so barbarically. As if with a sword you can conquer what you have now lost. It doesn’t turn back time, you know?”
This time, Vodin’s response was a quick tug of the sword, then a mouthful of blood spat on the ground. The king collapsed on the throne, his weapon falling at his feet. Vodin’s eyes dropped to the floor, as he sighed loudly.
“W…Why did you do this, Nomad?”
“You’re going to have to be more specific, Vodin. I’ve done many things to you lately…”
“Ha, I see that even in the harshest of times you still retain your idiotic humor…How childish…Why did you abandon us, Nomad?!” the king gathered his last bits of power to shout his angst at his betrayer. His reaction was subpar, a slight blink and all the strength in his words was whisked away. “T\-tell me, Nomad…after all the sacrifices…after all our prayers…after all the chores we had done, in your name…after you had requested to marry my daughter…after you took the last thing I loved and threw her away like a bag of grain, leaving her to rot away in an empty field…Why? Have we not satisfied your insatiable ego? Have we not been deemed worthy of your blessings? Tell me! Don’t just sit there as if you’re an innocent child getting scolded! Answer me, so that I may die at ease!”
Outside, the footsteps of many soldiers were approaching. Nomad didn’t reply at all. He stood there as the pool of blood beneath the king only grew wider and wider. Vodin’s life flowed away freely, leaving his body as it squirmed to the floor. It wasn’t much until Vodin’s vision got blurry, his hands shook as he could barely feel them. The hard chainmail was now barely tickling his inert skin, whereas before he was straining to wear it. Now it was but a light, weightless prison of his burdened houl.
“Don’t take it personal, Vodin. I, for one, happen to like you. Strong character, great leader, the first to put his heart on the table for his people only to have it ripped to pieces time and time again…I just…needed a break from all this god ordeal. Ironic, isn’t it? The god of pride and honor, of valiance and the steadfast renouncing his ideals…”
“Please…t\-tell me you are just fooling around with a dying man’s last wish…”
“Oh, I’m granting it, Vodin. You wanted to know why, and I’m delivering, if you’d stop interrupting me so that I could finish before you…you know. Pass away. Anyway, as I was saying…I got tired of this whole charade…Finding a city, establishing a pantheon, bind with the ruler, get to know the ruler, support the ruler, defend the ruler, you know you’re very selfish, right? I’ve had to defend you for so long and still, no respects. Rude.”
“I’ve given you…the last shred of my humanity…in exchange for the welfare of my people. What more can you ask of me, I’m only human…”
“True, you’ve given me...a lot. Still, I got bored with this. This isn’t my first Olympiad you know? I decided that you, humans, have so much more going for you. Given your…limited life, you know purpose, you know joys that transcend reason and plausibility…I want that. Being perfect and undying has its downsides, whether you accept it or not…”
“You…bastard…After all we’ve done for you…I burned down a damned city for your conflict with Aples…I went to war with our allies, backstabbed my own brother just so that you could have a land you were forbidden to. All that for you to say…you’re bored?”
“Precisely. I want to walk away from this whole god thing…pursue a mortal life. Find love, have children, you know, the regulars…”
“You can’t just walk away from being a God!” Vodin yelled, coughing the last bits of blood from his body. Tired, furious, betrayed, the king couldn’t help but let his head fall to the side. His crown slipped away, thudding on the ground. Nomad approached him, knowing that what he was going to say will be the last thing his longtime friend will hear.
“But…I just did. You humans have such a high standard for loyalty, for what I stand for…Safe to say, I am just the cute flower growing on a Foralisk’s head. May Them have mercy on you, Vodin.”
“G\-go…to…” He meant to say Below, but his tongue didn’t obey him anymore. The king’s heart stopped beating, right as the troops barged in, knocking the frail doors to the ground. The commander suddenly stopped. The scratches on Vodin’s mosaic were filled with the king’s crimson\-black blood. The former God now looked as if his skin was covered in dark, black veins, his face being completely red… | |
[WP] "You don't get to just walk away from being a god" | The man lied in the in the shallow black pool of liquid that was held in the center of the dark room. He felt the reverberations around him, those of *It* and *Its* workings. But he wasn’t awake. Not exactly. He was there but not. He felt and saw everything around him but he didn’t *care.* Like being detached from your own body, but still in control.
*Wake up.* A course digital and mechanical voice churned from its screens in the wall, which glowed a faint red light. *I said wake up.*
The man stood, slowly. Yet not with care. Like a husk, following commands. Like a soulless puppet.
*Do you know the effort it took to get you here?”* It said, as mechanical “arms” started to rise from the pool. *Do you know what your purpose here is?*
Its voice echoed, as the man stood still.
*You are my vessel. You are my physical form. Something to deceive them. The things below. They hunger for a prophet. They ask for a hero. And they crave a leader. So I’ll give them more. I’ll give them... a god.*
The man looked at the screen, looked at *It*, and blinked. He gasped for air, and fell to his knees. He shook. He was awake.
*There you are* It said. *Stand up.*
He coughed up liquid, and he looked around.
“Fuck you.” He said, as he turned away. “I don’t want to be your ‘vessel.’ I don’t want to be your god. I won’t let those people suffer. Not after what you’ve done to them.”
*You don’t understand* It cackled, as mechanical things came out of the walls, and the arms from the pool started coursing with red energy. *Do you think you are in control? Do you think you can just leave? No. You don’t get to walk away from being a god.*
The energy spiked, and tendrils of it went into the man’s torso. It flowed into him, and then retracted. His wounds started to heal...
And the color of his eyes was a glowing, digital red.
“Finally.” He said, as he took a deep breath. “It is done.”
He smiled, and started to laugh. Small wisps of red energy flowed from his hands, and dissipated into the air.
“It is time for them to meet their prophet. It is time for them to meet their god.”
| "You don't get to just walk away from being the god!" Gabriel said with a hint of annoyance in his voice.
"I can and I will!" I snapped back, "Don't you get it? I'm tired of all this. All people do is sleep on me. I do everything I can but they choose to ignore me."
"But if you quit, who would do all of your responsibilities here?" Gabriel fired back, "Come on. Now is not the time to be selfish. Think of us too, of all the people who believes in you."
"You can't make me stay. I'm quitting." I replied, matter of factly.
"Please," he said with his eyes pleading, "You know our drama club is short on members. If you quit on being the god, who would play your role? Come on man, haven't you told your parents your role by now? Wouldn't they be excited to see you on stage?"
"As I have told you Gab, I'm done for it. People can't appreciate my acting. And you know what? Maybe they're right. Maybe I really am not just cut for acting." I said with finality, and with that, I walked out of our practice room.
// i suck at writing so sorry if i have mistakes and this is my first time writing, too. | |
[WP] "You don't get to just walk away from being a god" | I was playing a flute when he showed up. The song was piercing to the heart. It was piercing the ears too, like a dying cat. Maybe it was just that I was not very good at it.
Or maybe I knew that anybody hearing this noise would give it a wide berth, leaving me alone.
But not him.
He had a bright orange hair and big beard, flowing over his wide chest. His armor was large and fearsome. The wolf head insignia stared forth, mouth agape, like it would, at any moment, eat you alive, or projectile vomit.
I'd do that to if I had to had my nose permanently under his beard. The god hardly ever showered.
He walked right under the tree I was perching on. Arms akimbo.
"Uncle," he started. I smiled at him a coy smile, or maybe a sad one,
and I let him go on, "uncle, you need to get home."
My nephew, so large and terrible. So lost without me.
I played a tune. A real one. It was about sorrow and loss long forgotten. I played it until the moon dropped the tears on the stars and the frosty mountain cried into glaciers, and I smiled at my nephew again my old, sad smile.
"Uncle, we need help. The giants! They took it again!"
He waved his hands. They were both empty. I shook my head.
"Nephew, nephew, nephew," I wagged my flute at him, "I told you to take better care of your belongings. You are a big boy now!" With this, I slid under the tree and faced him. I was tall, but he was taller. I looked up at his beard and his nostrils. A lovely sight.
"You must trick them once more! You must trick them to return my hammer!"
I squeezed his shoulder. They were hard and lean and trembling. "Nephew, I can no longer trick. They took away my title, my name. I am no longer the uncle you know."
"But you are the Trickster!" He said. His chest rumbled. The wolf in his armor gleamed in the moonlight as if it was becoming alive.
"The Trickster is your brother," I told him. He looked confused, and he changed. There was another image of him, another look. A regal man with beautiful blond locks tumbled gently across his shoulder, wearing a flashy and impractical armor. Then the same man with short hair and beard with a lot of leather. He trembled, and he shaped back to himself as I know.
"I don't understand," he said.
"The world is changing," I told him, "the gods are changing. We are, after all, the will of the worshipers. You should ask your brother for help."
"You will help me," he seemed visibly frustrated. He shot his arm like a bullet to the tree I was sitting on. It uprooted and flew back into the woods with several cracks and whistles, "you will help me." He repeated.
Eloquent fellow, my nephew.
"No, I am spending my retirement playing terrible music. I'm getting tired of being worshiped as a god of cunning and lies. Do you know how hard I had worked for that title before it slipped away?"
"Urgh!!" He cried. Then he grabbed me by the neck and lifted me up like a rag doll, "You don't get to walk away from being a god."
I transformed into a quicksilver and slipped into the ground. Then I reshaped out of his reach, "do I get to melt away?" I asked with my ignorance.
"Uncle," he said. There was no more anger in his eyes. He was just there, with his glory and fame and godhood. And he was still a lost wolf pup that I had raised for millennia, "uncle, I cannot force you to do it. I cannot trick you to do it. I can only beg." His eyes were so blue, so fearsome, and so earnest.
"I'm not as intelligent as you are, but I know that we need you. We need to defeat the frost giants."
Maybe my heart had been firmer as a trickster. Or maybe it was nicer to had some leverage over a powerful warrior god. Maybe it was a little bit of both. I cocked my head and smiled at him a terrible grin.
"Hmm," I said, "what if instead of tricking the frost giants this time, we make them our comrades? They will never steal your hammer again."
"I don't want to be friends with them, uncle. The frost giants, they are mischievous and untrustworthy."
I flashed him a little teeth. My nephew eventually blushed and looked away.
"What if," I said, looking at my flute. Too bad, I was just getting a hang of it, "there is a terrible threat to them. A threat that is so easy for us to fix because of your relationship with powerful humans." I tried to hide glee in my eyes.
"A threat that, if they don't deal with soon, will terminate their race forever until we rebegin."
"What are you talking about, uncle?" He asked.
I rolled my eyes at him, pretending not to care, feeling the heartbeat of mine again, fast and strong. I did not have much in my ways of magic, and one day I would be tied in the underworld long before the end, but still. The rush of pulling such heist was beckoning me, making me drunk with excitement. It was almost like lust.
"My sweet, gentle, docile nephew," I whispered, "have you ever heard of 'Global Warming?' " | [“What can a dead god do?”](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/7qotun/comment/dsquxu1?st=JHKLBXDK&sh=06cd19e3)
“You can come back. You can give your people hope again.”
Superman glared at Wonder Woman.
“I’m done with that life, Diana.” He turned back to his ice sculpture. Wonder Woman stopped him before he could pick it back up.
“We’re gods Kal,” she said, “You don’t get to just walk away from being a god.” Clark shot up.
“*I never wanted to be a god!*” He shouted. “I never wanted to be anything but a man in a...red sheet! I wanted the symbol to do the work. Let it go to someone else. I’m done.”
“That symbol,” Wonder Woman said, “Isn’t what brought hope to people. It isn’t what saved them.” She tapped Superman on the chest. “That was you. You can’t just walk away. Lois wouldn’t want-”
“Lois is gone.” Clark sat back down at the desk. “Lois is gone, Bruce is gone-”
“You still have me. And the rest of the League. It’s true they’re not the same, but it’s the legacy that lives on. Now we need you to be the hero you once were. The god you once were.” | |
[WP] Everything around you becomes incredibly boring. You discover you can use this curse to help people, though; for instance, if you walk into a burning building, the fires go out and the previously trapped victims start doing their taxes instead. | "I just don't get it."
"Me neither."
"On paper, this guy sounds extraordinary, but you're saying that he's so\-"
"Completely underwhelming. I feel as if I'm getting catfished."
"But he looks exactly like his picture?"
"Yup."
"My god. Can I meet him?"
"Trust me, not worth your time at all."
That was my date, I could hear her outside the bathroom. I had only come to wash my hands. Yah. It sucks to hear people talk about you. But I was used to this. My entire life, I've missed out on everything. When a classmate did something cool in class, I was gone. When my parents got exciting news, gone; by the time I was 12, they stopped taking me on vacations, "What's the point they said," shortly after \- only to leave me at an aunt or uncle's to go off somewhere on their own. Once! Once...okay, once this girl broke up with me, 2 days before my birthday so she wouldn't have to get me a present, instead she spent the money on tickets to a concert with her and my best friend. Okay, he was the only friend I had, and I wouldn't even call him my friend. I think he just hung around me because girls would be so bored that they would eventually say something like, "Let's get out of here." They would ditch me and go make out somewhere.
Well, that time, I went to the concert. I never seen a less excited crowd, the drummer wasn't even on beat, the lead singer threw his microphone on the ground and did a line of coke right there on stage and looked up and was still like, "Nope. Not doing it." I heard the band broke up after that. I heard it was because the lead singer OD'd after that. I heard she's never been to a concert again after that.
I've been disappointed often enough, left there standing, holding the bag. Not today. I went back to the table, put a crisp twenty under the plate and left. | "Not even with a team of 1,000 men could we accomplish this. It is folly!" exclaimed Benjamin as George and Abe worked through the plan for the tenth time.
"I may have been out of touch for a while but if there's one thing I know, it's strategy. This isnt the first war I've waged and it won't be the last, every plan just has to be executed with a bit of courage to start, something I wouldn't expect a science man like yourself to understand. " retorted George.
"This is my home. I gave my life for it once and I will do it again if it comes to it. This madhouse HAS to end. If it is to be completed, we are the men. With the help of this fellow we just might do it." grumbled Abe, slightly obscured by the smoke curling around the brim of his top hat.
A pensive silence settled over the room only broken by feet shuffling and rhetorical whispers while pointing at the maps. I had used my power in small dumb ways before, slowing slightly while driving when I see an incoming accident, visiting some of the protests in my town and quietly watching from the sidelines, the most I'd ever done was bump into Miley Cyrus about 2 years ago at a hole in the wall concert. When these guys found me it was hard to believe I could effect the change they had in mind but with them being who they are it's hard to avoid inspiration to do greater.
"We...strike in 12 hours. This man is getting into the White House and we will reclaim what it once stood for with his help" said Thomas from the corner, buried behind the guns and mounds of ammunition he had been silently cleaning.
"Finalize the plan get ready to sneak this man into the Correspondence dinner". He finished before turning back to his projects and the rooms resumed bustling, Abe polishing his Axe, George turning back to the Map and Benjamin tinkering away at a intermittently glowing copper played object.
My palms actually got a little warm as I held back a smirk of excitement watching the Founding Fathers moving and breathing right in front of me.
"Bring it on" I whispered under my breath. | |
[WP] Aliens try enslaving humanity, but they're about as tall as a basketball, their weapons don't hurt us, and they're adorable. | **Infiltration Report**
Dread Emperor, I am pleased to report our success in enslaving these primitive giants, albeit in an entirely unexpected manner.
You will be glad to know that they are even stronger and more powerful than our estimates, being entirely immune to all of our weapons; no matter how much power we put into them, these creatures are absolutely *invulnerable* to magnetic fields, and can in fact walk around all day carrying a permanently magnetised piece of metal and not even notice.
Unfortunately, I must also report a certain number of casualties - in every case, due to carelessness on the part of our new slaves. However, you will be glad to know that in every case they have offered sincere apologies and insisted on providing some form of reparation - in fact, should one of these Humans be reluctant to accomplish some task, it is often easier to arrange for them to 'accidentally' kill a low-ranking private and then insist on the performance of the task as the reparations than to persuade them in any other manner.
The greatest weakness of these humans, Dread Leader, is psychological. Any of your loyal troops may easily command any human, by following a simple, straightforward procedure:
- The troopsman providing the command needs to wear the specially designed contact lenses; these make the eyes appear bigger and suggest a slight sheen of liquid. (The reasons why this works are contained in the Psychology Report)
- The troopsman must precede the command with "Could you *please*..."
- Should the human not obey the command, the troopsman must place his forelimbs together, raise himself to the greatest height he can, and then say "Pretty please?"
- Should the human still refuse to obey, the troopsman must cause his lower lip to tremble.
In every scenario where this protocol has been used, the human has obeyed every command given. However, the troopsman giving the command must keep a close eye on the human - their giant size often means that an incautiously worded command can cause more trouble than it solves, and humans will often complete additional, unrequested actions.
After completing the command, the human may pick up the troopsman and hold him. The troopsman handling the human is thus required to be in full body armour at all times - troopsmen are expendable, but a human who squeezes his handler too hard will break, and humans are not as easily replaced.
We expect to be able to deliver ten thousand humans for hard labour in the Slaveworlds within three weeks.
**Signed:**
**Invasion Leader Snookums** | It was the cats all along.
Cute and all, hanging around since the dawn of man.
They brought less advanced species, the whole feline family, and planted fake evidence of a common ancestry but truly they come from out there, dude.
They foresaw our supremacy on the Earth and went along for the long ride, on our shoulders, whispering ideas smoothly, but now they are high up in the chain, man, they control everything.
Everyone is spied and even dogs play a part ...
But I know their weakness.
And that's what I've been doing all these years ... You might have heard of it. It is supposed to be some sort of interplanetary space travel faster than everything ever made, but truly it is to repel /them/, free us from them ...
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Laser_propulsion | |
[WP] Aliens try enslaving humanity, but they're about as tall as a basketball, their weapons don't hurt us, and they're adorable. | We detected their giant starship, a hundred kilometers long, as it passed the orbit of Neptune. Decelerating rapidly it still took months to arrive. Earth's first contact with an alien race resulted in social chaos and religious upheaval. Meanwhile the militaries of the world worked feverishly together as never before to prepare our defenses.
15 March 2023 will live on in Human history like no other day. The starship entered Earth orbit and hundreds of thousands of shuttle craft emerged to descend to the Earth.
The Porg invasion had begun.
Their adorable aspect at first completely disarmed our brave fighting men. But within twenty minutes calls of "Check fire! Check fire!" echoed throughout the global military radio net. They were defenseless against our weapons--hell, they were defenseless against our skritches.
Their defeat was total and they became our pets. But now, the dogs and cats are plotting their overthrow. | It was the cats all along.
Cute and all, hanging around since the dawn of man.
They brought less advanced species, the whole feline family, and planted fake evidence of a common ancestry but truly they come from out there, dude.
They foresaw our supremacy on the Earth and went along for the long ride, on our shoulders, whispering ideas smoothly, but now they are high up in the chain, man, they control everything.
Everyone is spied and even dogs play a part ...
But I know their weakness.
And that's what I've been doing all these years ... You might have heard of it. It is supposed to be some sort of interplanetary space travel faster than everything ever made, but truly it is to repel /them/, free us from them ...
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Laser_propulsion | |
[WP] all combat, including real-life combat, is turn-based | It was nearly 1:30 am when Jennifer Grayford, attorney at law, pushed open the garage door and walked into the kitchen of her house, flipping on the lights. She had hoped she could sneak to the master bedroom without waking anyone, but as she crossed the kitchen there was a rustling and then the music started to play.
> ENCOUNTER! SPOUSE Desmond has appeared!
Jen's husband Desmond stood facing her, arms crossed. Because it was a surprise encounter, Desmond got to act first. The phrase *Loaded Question* flashed on Jen's HUD.
“Hey Honey, are you just getting off of work now?”
Quickly Jen panned down through her options and selected the command for *Sarcastic Retort*.
“Actually babe, no. I'm just getting back from cheating on you.”
The HUD flashed red.
> SPOUSE Desmond's rage is building. SPOUSE Desmond's speed increased! SPOUSE Desmond's articulation decreased!
Desmond took a step forward, red in the face.
> Desmond used *Accuse*!
“You were supposed to drive Ben to his sleepover. He waited two hours for before he called me. I had to leave my softball game early to drive him over myself. It was *your* turn, Jen! You promised me!”
The words had barely left his mouth before Jen had queued up *Exasperated Rebuttal*.
“You make it sound like I get to decide when to leave work. That I love working until the middle of the night for this family. I had a great day by the way, thanks for asking. My intern just quit two days ago and I've got two new contracts to review before the weekend. Sorry you had to miss that very important softball game of yours.”
Jen waited patiently as her partner considered his next response. Because of the buff to his speed he would get a double attack this turn, and this would more or less be the turning point of the battle.
First came that familiar command *Revisit Old Idea*. One of Desmond's bread and butters in the heat of their battles.
“Don't try to turn this back on me. You know that if you're so miserable at that firm, you don't have to work there, right? We can make ends meet just fine at a smaller firm without your damn bonuses that you have to sell your soul to qualify for.”
Jen opened her mouth, ready to follow-up with a rebuke about how her husband being laid off hadn't exactly helped the situation, using a special command modifier to mention that they were already a month behind in their mortgage payments, but her HUD flashed angrily.
> Warning! It is not your turn!
For his next action, Desmond's expression softened. Then something odd happened; *Heartfelt Plea* appeared on the HUD.
“I can't do this alone Jen. We never see you anymore Jen. Not me, not the kids, not anyone. Babe, we miss you. I miss you.”
The reticle on Jen's HUD turned green, signaling it was her turn again. The *Heartfelt Plea* had hit it's mark, and Jen took longer than usual to select her next action. She scrolled through her list of available actions, trying again and again to find a strategy to use moving forward.
As she scrolled through her options, there was a small sound from the living room. Desmond snapped his head back towards the noise, and then the encounter music started to play again.
> LITTLE TYKE Rachel has joined the fray! LITTLE TYKE Rachel's alignment is neutral!
Jen's daughter appeared in the frame of the kitchen entryway, clad in pajamas, a stuffed animal rabbit wrapped around her arms.
“Mom? Dad? I'm hungry!”
Jen selected *Dismiss*.
“Go back to bed sweety. It's late. I'll be in a bit after I kiss you goodnight.”
> LITTLE TYKE Rachel did not like that!
The turn reticle flashed on Rachel's name again, and she looked up at her mother, then to her father, then back to her mother again. Rachel's speed in an verbal combat was off the charts, as she generally received double the turn count of anyone else in an encounter.
“No. I want cookies.” The little girl turned to her dad and selected *Question*. “Dad, why were you and mom yelling? Are you fighting again?”
Desmond's turn. He crouched down face the little girl and selected *Pacify.* “No, mom and I were just talking and Dad spoke a little too loud.” He grabbed a box of animal crackers from the pantry and gave a few to his daughter. “Here, just this once, then you have to go back to bed. And promise me you won't tell your siblings – this will be our little secret.”
Rachel nodded happily, then hopped up to the kitchen table, munching and littering the floor with the crumbs of her snack.
> LITTLE TYKE Rachel has been pacified! She will be unable to act for the next 3 – 7 turns!
Jen glared at her husband. It was her turn again, but watching Dez spend his turn on their daughter was making it harder and harder to argue with him.
*He's in the wrong, though!* she thought. *It's not my fault he has to miss out on softball because I have to work for this family.*
Still, she felt the fight leaving her. Slowly, she scrolled down to the action she knew she had to choose and confirmed her choice, *Apologize.*
“I'm sorry Desmond. You're right, I'm not happy at my job, and I completely forgot about Ben's sleepover. I miss you too. We'll talk about our options moving forward tomorrow. I'm sorry.”
Desmond nodded. A new pop-up appeared on her HUD.
> SPOUSE Desmond wants to form an alliance with you. Do you accept?
Jen selected *Yes.*
> SPOUSE Desmond has joined your party! You now have the buff *Dynamic Duo*!
Jen walked over and wrapped her husband up in her arms. Her next action was a quick select command so she didn't even need to scroll through a menu list to find it. “I love you," she whispered.
“I love you too. I'm sorry.”
She waited patiently for the encounter to conclude, and to receive her valuable experience points, but just then familiar jingle of the encounter music played again, and the garage door burst open.
> UNRULY TEEN ON CURFEW Jessica and OLDER BIKER BOYFRIEND Ryan have joined the fray!
Jen's teenage daughter Jess looked across at her parents, her arms still wrapped around her boyfriend, and her jaw dropped.
“Oh, shit,” the teenager said, breaking away from Ryan as if she suddenly realized he was a leper. “Mom, I can explain.”
> Your entire party is now furious. Your party's articulation fell! Your party's speed GREATLY increased!
* * *
/r/ghost_write_the_whip | "And here was the greatest siege in history." The tour guide explained.
It was the most awesome sight i had ever laid my eyes on. Two thousand skeletons in authentic medieval garb. Their catapults still loaded, and a giant boulder hung in the air about to strike the castle walls. Meanwhile the walls were deserted. Most of the structures had crumbled and only the stone foundations remained. I walked by the skeletons frozen in place, one of them still pointing. Raising my camera i took a selfie.
"The two sides fought a bitter opening of three moves each but when it was king's turn he simply didn't take it. He suffered a heart attack a few minutes into his decision and everyone was thus locked into position for all eternity. While smaller wars have been fought, the realization that one could simply ignore their turn forced the world into other means of resolving their conflicts." The tour guide continued. "Since the tenth century there has been no war bigger than a dozen people."
Fascinated i kept taking more pictures of the skeletons. Walking among them i studied their clothing and how they held their weapons. I loved medieval warfare and all the stuff pertaining to it. I hadn't noticed that the tour group had left and i was all alone.
"Gimme your money!" a mugger yelled.
I turned around to see a gun in my face. I realized it was my turn. Remembering the tour guide i did nothing.
"I said gimme your money!" the mugger yelled again.
I remained defiant and held still.
"Come on, gimme your money." The mugger pleaded now, unable to move or pull the trigger.
"Fuck you. It's my turn. I can wait until the end of time." I replied. | |
[WP] all combat, including real-life combat, is turn-based | It was nearly 1:30 am when Jennifer Grayford, attorney at law, pushed open the garage door and walked into the kitchen of her house, flipping on the lights. She had hoped she could sneak to the master bedroom without waking anyone, but as she crossed the kitchen there was a rustling and then the music started to play.
> ENCOUNTER! SPOUSE Desmond has appeared!
Jen's husband Desmond stood facing her, arms crossed. Because it was a surprise encounter, Desmond got to act first. The phrase *Loaded Question* flashed on Jen's HUD.
“Hey Honey, are you just getting off of work now?”
Quickly Jen panned down through her options and selected the command for *Sarcastic Retort*.
“Actually babe, no. I'm just getting back from cheating on you.”
The HUD flashed red.
> SPOUSE Desmond's rage is building. SPOUSE Desmond's speed increased! SPOUSE Desmond's articulation decreased!
Desmond took a step forward, red in the face.
> Desmond used *Accuse*!
“You were supposed to drive Ben to his sleepover. He waited two hours for before he called me. I had to leave my softball game early to drive him over myself. It was *your* turn, Jen! You promised me!”
The words had barely left his mouth before Jen had queued up *Exasperated Rebuttal*.
“You make it sound like I get to decide when to leave work. That I love working until the middle of the night for this family. I had a great day by the way, thanks for asking. My intern just quit two days ago and I've got two new contracts to review before the weekend. Sorry you had to miss that very important softball game of yours.”
Jen waited patiently as her partner considered his next response. Because of the buff to his speed he would get a double attack this turn, and this would more or less be the turning point of the battle.
First came that familiar command *Revisit Old Idea*. One of Desmond's bread and butters in the heat of their battles.
“Don't try to turn this back on me. You know that if you're so miserable at that firm, you don't have to work there, right? We can make ends meet just fine at a smaller firm without your damn bonuses that you have to sell your soul to qualify for.”
Jen opened her mouth, ready to follow-up with a rebuke about how her husband being laid off hadn't exactly helped the situation, using a special command modifier to mention that they were already a month behind in their mortgage payments, but her HUD flashed angrily.
> Warning! It is not your turn!
For his next action, Desmond's expression softened. Then something odd happened; *Heartfelt Plea* appeared on the HUD.
“I can't do this alone Jen. We never see you anymore Jen. Not me, not the kids, not anyone. Babe, we miss you. I miss you.”
The reticle on Jen's HUD turned green, signaling it was her turn again. The *Heartfelt Plea* had hit it's mark, and Jen took longer than usual to select her next action. She scrolled through her list of available actions, trying again and again to find a strategy to use moving forward.
As she scrolled through her options, there was a small sound from the living room. Desmond snapped his head back towards the noise, and then the encounter music started to play again.
> LITTLE TYKE Rachel has joined the fray! LITTLE TYKE Rachel's alignment is neutral!
Jen's daughter appeared in the frame of the kitchen entryway, clad in pajamas, a stuffed animal rabbit wrapped around her arms.
“Mom? Dad? I'm hungry!”
Jen selected *Dismiss*.
“Go back to bed sweety. It's late. I'll be in a bit after I kiss you goodnight.”
> LITTLE TYKE Rachel did not like that!
The turn reticle flashed on Rachel's name again, and she looked up at her mother, then to her father, then back to her mother again. Rachel's speed in an verbal combat was off the charts, as she generally received double the turn count of anyone else in an encounter.
“No. I want cookies.” The little girl turned to her dad and selected *Question*. “Dad, why were you and mom yelling? Are you fighting again?”
Desmond's turn. He crouched down face the little girl and selected *Pacify.* “No, mom and I were just talking and Dad spoke a little too loud.” He grabbed a box of animal crackers from the pantry and gave a few to his daughter. “Here, just this once, then you have to go back to bed. And promise me you won't tell your siblings – this will be our little secret.”
Rachel nodded happily, then hopped up to the kitchen table, munching and littering the floor with the crumbs of her snack.
> LITTLE TYKE Rachel has been pacified! She will be unable to act for the next 3 – 7 turns!
Jen glared at her husband. It was her turn again, but watching Dez spend his turn on their daughter was making it harder and harder to argue with him.
*He's in the wrong, though!* she thought. *It's not my fault he has to miss out on softball because I have to work for this family.*
Still, she felt the fight leaving her. Slowly, she scrolled down to the action she knew she had to choose and confirmed her choice, *Apologize.*
“I'm sorry Desmond. You're right, I'm not happy at my job, and I completely forgot about Ben's sleepover. I miss you too. We'll talk about our options moving forward tomorrow. I'm sorry.”
Desmond nodded. A new pop-up appeared on her HUD.
> SPOUSE Desmond wants to form an alliance with you. Do you accept?
Jen selected *Yes.*
> SPOUSE Desmond has joined your party! You now have the buff *Dynamic Duo*!
Jen walked over and wrapped her husband up in her arms. Her next action was a quick select command so she didn't even need to scroll through a menu list to find it. “I love you," she whispered.
“I love you too. I'm sorry.”
She waited patiently for the encounter to conclude, and to receive her valuable experience points, but just then familiar jingle of the encounter music played again, and the garage door burst open.
> UNRULY TEEN ON CURFEW Jessica and OLDER BIKER BOYFRIEND Ryan have joined the fray!
Jen's teenage daughter Jess looked across at her parents, her arms still wrapped around her boyfriend, and her jaw dropped.
“Oh, shit,” the teenager said, breaking away from Ryan as if she suddenly realized he was a leper. “Mom, I can explain.”
> Your entire party is now furious. Your party's articulation fell! Your party's speed GREATLY increased!
* * *
/r/ghost_write_the_whip | “Guys what do I do?” “Geez Gary I don’t know how bout you USE YOUR GOSH DARN LIMIT BREAK!”
I didn’t have a limit break just a long strings of attacks with for some reason counted as one attack. “Alex for the last time that would kill the dude! It ends with me snapping there gosh darn neck and unless his dodge skill is higher then 59 then I highly doubt he will make it.”
The man who we were fighting was one dude with a gun. He was trying to rob us. “Hey uh... do you mind if I could just leave? I don’t want to mess with anyone who could dodge a bullet so...” David who was 3rd in combat sorta gave him a glare which shut him up. (Honestly that glare alone should be a move...)
I was a pure unarmed fighter. The requirements for that is to have every battle with no weapons. Forever. Still it had its perks like once I defend against enough attacks I get a counter but right now.
“GARRY FOR THE LOVE OF PEAT JUST KILL HIM!” Alex shouted. I wasn’t going to kill him! The dude was pissing his pants just by listening to our conversation. I couldn’t pass my turn as he would get a second shot but I really can’t attack because all my moves are combos.
Wait. I had it. I walked in front of him and defended. Since he had a gun he could shoot after every non ballistic attack but I was in front of him and he can’t move. He has to shoot me or skip his turn. He shot me
‘DEFFENDED AGAINTS 100 ATTACKS COUNTER UNLOCKED’
I punched him straight in the jaw.
| |
[WP] Two kings have been engaged in a bitter war for over a decade, each one performing strategic marvels from his throne. Unknown to both of them. Both of their armies have long since shaken hands and gone home as friends. The entire kingdom is in on it. | "Yes, my liege, a brilliant strategy as always. They'll never know what hit them. Until it does. Erm. Hit them. That is." A bead of sweat began to trickle down the royal Advisor's brow, adding a further shimmer to his already glistening complexion. "I shall draft a message to the frontlines at once, by your leave." The wizened visage of the King inclined consentingly before returning its gaze to the immaculately detailed model terrain of a battlefield. His trusted Advisor bowed shallowly and shuffled out of the war room before letting out a tremendous sigh. He'd never considered himself a particularly good liar, but it was his duty to tell the king exactly what he needed to hear. It had never been stipulated however, that what he needed to hear was the truth.
Were it not for this one idle thought, that had once happened across his mind and broke through his lips before he'd had the chance to shut it away safely where it belonged, he might have slept better these past several years. But, he was a hero of sorts. He'd saved countless thousands of lives through his valiant and heroic deception. The thought didn't give him much satisfaction. He trundled wearily through the hall praying to all the gods he'd ever read about that he could make it to his chambers unhindered for a few hours rest. He must have missed the one that might've heeded his plea, because to his dismay the grinning mustachioed face of Baldrick, one of the royal knights beamed at him expectantly. His squire, a lad named Gunter, who'd be even with him on a scale but who stood barely half his height, did his best to suck in at attention, looking not entirely unlike an overripe tomato constricted by rubber bands.
"How'd it go eh," Baldrick gave the advisor a knowing wink. "I bet the lad he'd see through this last one, reckoned he'd be a tad suspicious after that last bit of indiscretion the other week, but looks like you still got that shiny melon of yours." The guardsman forcefully flicked a copper coin over his shoulder and put an unwelcome arm around the King's most trusted confidant, accompanying him down the hall, leaving Gunter to rub a reddening coin-sized welt on his forehead.
"Chin up lad," Baldrick said brightly, "A few short years and you'll only have half as much work on your plate." He gave a short chuckle and clapped the Advisor on the back. "Well we'd best get you along then, no sense keeping the other old bastard waiting, shame that he won't be going anywhere anytime soon."
The Advisor hobbled out of Baldrick's stony grasp to the end of the empty hall and looked over his shoulder furtively, before rapping an elaborate rhythm upon the barren stonework of the wall before him. The dead end spun abruptly, taking the two men along with it.
On the other side, a crimson, crackling glow lit the way before him, casting sinister shadows down the hall. Sconces of crudely wrought iron burned with menacing flames. Baldrick made his way to what appeared to be a coatrack wrought entirely of bones, thoughtfully selected the most tasteful of the gnarled, horned helms that adorned it, before placing it on his head. He then donned a suit of armor that on the whole gave one the impression of an iron maiden turned inside out. "Alright, arms out, you know how it goes." He eyes peered out apologetically from the skeletal visage of the helm, before he clasped the resigned advisor's wrists in chains and led him down the hall. Here and there about the hall could be seen various sorry looking souls in tattered, threadbare robes, with sunken eyes and weary faces, clothing soiled with what appeared to be blood and assorted filth. The foul entourage smiled and waved as the pair passed, and Baldrick's voice began to boom through the hall as they proceeded. "MAKE WAY SLAVES! BACK YOU FILTH!" His shouts were followed by the occasional violent thump or the crack of a whip, accompanied with wails and groans of apparent agony. One such wail gave way to a barely contained snigger, before an elbow from one of his compatriots transformed it to an appropriately pained yelp.
The pair paced the hall until they were faced with a suitably imposing doorway, set with skulls adorned with ruby eyes. The pair looked at each other reluctantly before Baldrick pounded resoundingly on the door. "Your Unholiness," he called out in an unearthly snarl. "The Advisor has been brought from the dungeons, as you commanded."
There was no response save for a dry rattle of air, a rasping, breathy noise that made one's skin crawl like the insects that were now scrabbling out of the slowly opening doors. Baldrick gave the advisor a knowing wink before pushing him through the opening and about facing to stand guard at the entrance.
Sure, he thought to himself, the Necromancer King was horrific enough. All desiccated flesh hanging off of bones, sunken abyssal eyes emitting sickly greenish light, tattered robes writhing with unspeakable insects and vermin. But it took more than that to command respect these days. Each and every legion of the damned, all the wakened dead, every foul hearted and corrupt soul he'd managed to rally had gladly returned to the foul pits from whence they came, for it seemed that their respective hells were nothing compared to the torment of menial labor. They'd renounced their Profane Lordship the instant they understood that instead of constructing immense foreboding citadels and forging innumerable skull shaped objects, they could simply stage an invasion of the capital and leave the Ruler Of All That Is Evil under the care of the King's own men, already consummate grovelers and appeasers from having dealt with their own brand of tyranny. As long as he thought his dark influence permeated the land, he didn't need to do any actual commanding of his dark armies. Though they could not break the contract that bound them to servitude, they'd found a loophole. They never had to do any evil bidding if there was no actual evil being bid.
After what felt like an age, the Advisor was thrust from the darkened depths, and the two made their way back down the torchlit halls, as Baldrick and once again made a show of roughing up the peasantry on their way back to the hidden door between the two halves of the castle. As Baldrick returned to his post in the less grim half of the castle, the Advisor finally managed to slink of to his own chambers and collapse on his bed. Before sleep took him, he couldn't help but think that things would've been easier on him at least if they'd just gone and done a proper, old fashioned war. | King Amadeus, still sweating at the thought of his last theatrical defeat, was certain this time he would win. Adjusting his royal purple robe and then ruby-embedded crown atop his wispy black hair, he was all but ready for his performance. Peering out through wrinkled but wide eyes that told of once-youthful vigor, he saw thousands of sputtering orbs, the eyes of onlookers, shining back in the dark. The lights, the lights! he thought. He had almost forgotten to cue the backstage light-guy. And like that, the stage lit up, ambient chandeliers glowed above the plebeian audience. The peons came from all walks of life, mostly manure-shoveling, shoe-shining, brick-laying walks, but they were people nonetheless and they would have to do.
They, the peons that is, had grown tired of the pompous display. They would snicker behind otherwise emotionless faces as they watched on at the spectacle. In the back sat a row of judges, neutral visitors from a nearby nation with no vested interest in the internal politics or disputes of their neighboring regions. It was the seasonal royal dance-off. Again. How they got to this point bewildered them. Did King Amadeus of Greenacre really devise a dance-off to settle his differences with King Humphrey of Blackacre? Why yes, yes he did, and the competitive spirit of Humphrey never declined a good challenge. So here they were, 11 years later and 43 dance-offs behind their collective belts. Each time the audience would fill with neighboring Greenacre and Blackacre plebes; separated by a purely-symbolic fencing. They would pretend to hate each other, boo, brawl and scream profanities (well the screaming was not faked but it was certainly not from a place of anger). In reality, most were fucking and shooting the breeze after the odd performance. In fact, several had children together and were confounded as to which side the child would go on, so father and mother would switch off. They'd hold an after-party in the fields, dancing and drinking in the moonlight until they passed out in laughter. But for now, for now, they would await the talented gyrations of both competing Kings, stone-faced and in character.
Duke Artemis beckoned his highness, King Amadeus of Greenacre, and like that the crowd went silent (mostly in a state of absolute stupor at the predictable vision that would ensue). King Amadeus, a hefty and tall man with Italian-like dark features, slid out to center stage, stared directly into the eyes of the audience-members, fixating on one at a time to make them as uncomfortable as possible. Then it happened. They wished it wouldn't but it did. Every time. He began--well, moving. They called it the "worm-dance" (note: this was before "the worm" was a thing). The king would turn sideways, maintaining eye contact, and began wiggling his stomach in calculated movements. Sometimes, like today he'd lift his arms out sideways and wiggle them too, like a squid. Luckily, the robe obscured most of whatever was going on underneath. They didn't want to know. This continued for an excruciating 2 minutes as the audience struggled to keep in their laughs. But King Amadeus could not lose again, so he had to do something different this time. In what would be his most theatrical show yet, he threw off his robe and stood before them in only his royal tights, which revealed every contour of his vulgar body. The crowd gasped. This was surely inappropriate for children. Others looked on, mouths agape, at his stunning display of human body hair. But their shock soon turned to interest. King Amadeus fell to his stomach, and began pushing himself off the ground and twisting in circular movements (they hadn't discovered break dancing quite yet either but this with the precursor to it, no doubt). Next thing they knew he was in a full-on headstand, spinning around until he was dizzy. He then leapt back to his feet, bowed, and wiggled his way of the stage. The Greenacre plebes screamed a thunderous applause.
The duke inched back on the stage momentarily, and then introduced King Humphrey of blackacre. King Humphrey was black, slim, and muscular. He was also a spectacular asshole who loved to show off his every talent. He had won the previous battle with an exquisite ballet. Each time he would try something different, showcasing his range of movement. Usually, he would win, but many times he would lose footing at the most critical moment of the dance, costing him several performance points. Of course it was all strategic. King Amadeus preferred the predictable ratings and worm-dance. King Humphrey took bigger risks, but when he won, he won big. He wanted badly to win. The winner would avail himself of the free labor of the enemy plebes (in reality, the plebes were fine tending to either king's kingdom).
And so King Humphrey decided on a special interpretive dance this time. In his royal blue robe, and emerald and diamond-encrusted crown, King Humphrey moved gracefully to the center of the stage. He then reached up to the heavens and stood tall and still as an arrow, hands clasped above him. He then bent over, slid his arms forward, then rapidly to the side, then to the other, then contorted his body into a pretzel. The audience was not having it. What the fuck is this they thought? Even the judges were confused. What was there to interpret. King Humphrey, in a poetically just manner, grabbed at his heart and then fell forward, as if shot by an invisible bullet. Then he broke out into more intense and rapid movements, sliding, jumping, stamping, swaying, and twisting across the stage like a mutant alien. He then jumped up, landed in the splits, and hurried off the stage. The Blackacre crowd begrudgingly clapped and hooted, but deep downed pondered what the fuck they had just seen.
"And now for the results." The duke appeared. "I know you all can't wait for it, so I won't have you wait. Judges, what's the verdict?"
The judges shuffled through their score boards. Each would hold up two boards: a score for King Amadeus in green, and a score for King Humphrey in black. It was a close-call but the numbers did not lie: three 3's (out of 10) for King Amadeus, and three 2.5's (out of 10) for King Humphrey. King Amadeus won the day! The audience erupted once more for him, "woooo, woooo, woooo!"
But the applause was cut short, when King Amadeus took to the stage to make an announcement. "Now, I know it has been standard for the winning king to avail himself of the plebeian labor of the enemy forces. But today, I wish to do something differently, to assert who the real supreme king is. Today, instead of using my one winner's wish to ask for labor, I ask that I draw a random name from this prepared bucket here, including the names of all Blackacre residents. The name I pull will be executed by a random Greenacre name to be pulled from this other bucket. Failure to comply, will result in death of both parties."
The crowd went dead silent, followed by protests and shouting from the members! They were friends. He couldn't just use his winner's wish to kill, as a death wish! King Humphrey was shocked, and tried to protest as well, "but you mustn't change the order of things." King Amadeus pulled out the royal dance-off contract, which in fine print stated, "winner's wish may be used to kill enemy." What?! Of course it was in the fine print. King Humphrey, an honest man of his word, resigned to the rules, and then the names were called.
"I will start with the killer. For Greenacre, the killer will be Mr. Tertullian Dingle." Tertullian nearly leapt out of the crowd, but was held back. He was just a 20 year old vegetarian BOY who played the accordion, hardly had a violent drop of blood in him! Please don't be the woman I love, he thought, please don't. "And the victim from Blackacre will be Ms. Annalynn Brown." Tertullian's heart sank into despair! Not his love, no, no, not her. Annalynn looked at him from across the fence with a look that would haunt him for the rest of his life (however long that would be). It was the look of, "yes, just do it" and the look of "I love you" combined in one. Annalynn was a beautiful black woman of just 18 years of age. She was wearing a raggedy brown dress ripped at the arms and knees. That was considered unbecoming and immodest of women, except those who worked in the fields. But she was not a field-worker. In fact, she came from a high-end family but liked to wear tattered clothing as a sign of solidarity. On her upper left arm was a gold bangle she inherited from her grandmother. "Just do it," she mouthed to him. The frail and pail and nervous Tertullian (with a sandy blond bowl-cut, the rage of the times, and blue-green eyes), began to shake. The two were summoned to the stage.
King Amadeus grabbed the boy by the shoulder, "now show them what it means to be fearless, boy!" He handed the boy (technically a man, but he looked like a boy), a sharpened knife and whispered, "now, go straight for the jugular; it will shorten the suffering, and a pretty lady like this ought not to suffer long."
The knife shook in Tertullian's hand to the point he almost lost his gripping. He thought for a moment of stabbing the king instead but noticed there were dozens of guards with spears around him (where the hell did they come from?). He looked back at Annalynn, then to his murderous hand that had every urge to preserve his own life. But his heart resisted. "Hurry up now!" The king yelled. The audience looked on silently, sorrowfully. Is this what would come off the dance-offs? Surely, this would erupt into real war, no matter the outcome....
(TBC) | |
[WP] Two kings have been engaged in a bitter war for over a decade, each one performing strategic marvels from his throne. Unknown to both of them. Both of their armies have long since shaken hands and gone home as friends. The entire kingdom is in on it. | Two kings, one feud
Bitterness running through
Their veins
Soldiers and generals
Have stopped the good fight long ago
But still did rehearsals for the Kings' ego
A carefully orchestrated play
The "dead" alongside the props at bay
Ex manchina the name of various types
Of misfortunes and "unfortunate" sights
A war not in the battlefield
But in each king's mind
For every one else
It's nothing but a game of chess
It's not without reason, they put up this play
That might account as treason, if you may
Because everyone knows that by the end of the game
Everyone from the king to the last pawn
ends up on the same box, and the same place. | King Amadeus, still sweating at the thought of his last theatrical defeat, was certain this time he would win. Adjusting his royal purple robe and then ruby-embedded crown atop his wispy black hair, he was all but ready for his performance. Peering out through wrinkled but wide eyes that told of once-youthful vigor, he saw thousands of sputtering orbs, the eyes of onlookers, shining back in the dark. The lights, the lights! he thought. He had almost forgotten to cue the backstage light-guy. And like that, the stage lit up, ambient chandeliers glowed above the plebeian audience. The peons came from all walks of life, mostly manure-shoveling, shoe-shining, brick-laying walks, but they were people nonetheless and they would have to do.
They, the peons that is, had grown tired of the pompous display. They would snicker behind otherwise emotionless faces as they watched on at the spectacle. In the back sat a row of judges, neutral visitors from a nearby nation with no vested interest in the internal politics or disputes of their neighboring regions. It was the seasonal royal dance-off. Again. How they got to this point bewildered them. Did King Amadeus of Greenacre really devise a dance-off to settle his differences with King Humphrey of Blackacre? Why yes, yes he did, and the competitive spirit of Humphrey never declined a good challenge. So here they were, 11 years later and 43 dance-offs behind their collective belts. Each time the audience would fill with neighboring Greenacre and Blackacre plebes; separated by a purely-symbolic fencing. They would pretend to hate each other, boo, brawl and scream profanities (well the screaming was not faked but it was certainly not from a place of anger). In reality, most were fucking and shooting the breeze after the odd performance. In fact, several had children together and were confounded as to which side the child would go on, so father and mother would switch off. They'd hold an after-party in the fields, dancing and drinking in the moonlight until they passed out in laughter. But for now, for now, they would await the talented gyrations of both competing Kings, stone-faced and in character.
Duke Artemis beckoned his highness, King Amadeus of Greenacre, and like that the crowd went silent (mostly in a state of absolute stupor at the predictable vision that would ensue). King Amadeus, a hefty and tall man with Italian-like dark features, slid out to center stage, stared directly into the eyes of the audience-members, fixating on one at a time to make them as uncomfortable as possible. Then it happened. They wished it wouldn't but it did. Every time. He began--well, moving. They called it the "worm-dance" (note: this was before "the worm" was a thing). The king would turn sideways, maintaining eye contact, and began wiggling his stomach in calculated movements. Sometimes, like today he'd lift his arms out sideways and wiggle them too, like a squid. Luckily, the robe obscured most of whatever was going on underneath. They didn't want to know. This continued for an excruciating 2 minutes as the audience struggled to keep in their laughs. But King Amadeus could not lose again, so he had to do something different this time. In what would be his most theatrical show yet, he threw off his robe and stood before them in only his royal tights, which revealed every contour of his vulgar body. The crowd gasped. This was surely inappropriate for children. Others looked on, mouths agape, at his stunning display of human body hair. But their shock soon turned to interest. King Amadeus fell to his stomach, and began pushing himself off the ground and twisting in circular movements (they hadn't discovered break dancing quite yet either but this with the precursor to it, no doubt). Next thing they knew he was in a full-on headstand, spinning around until he was dizzy. He then leapt back to his feet, bowed, and wiggled his way of the stage. The Greenacre plebes screamed a thunderous applause.
The duke inched back on the stage momentarily, and then introduced King Humphrey of blackacre. King Humphrey was black, slim, and muscular. He was also a spectacular asshole who loved to show off his every talent. He had won the previous battle with an exquisite ballet. Each time he would try something different, showcasing his range of movement. Usually, he would win, but many times he would lose footing at the most critical moment of the dance, costing him several performance points. Of course it was all strategic. King Amadeus preferred the predictable ratings and worm-dance. King Humphrey took bigger risks, but when he won, he won big. He wanted badly to win. The winner would avail himself of the free labor of the enemy plebes (in reality, the plebes were fine tending to either king's kingdom).
And so King Humphrey decided on a special interpretive dance this time. In his royal blue robe, and emerald and diamond-encrusted crown, King Humphrey moved gracefully to the center of the stage. He then reached up to the heavens and stood tall and still as an arrow, hands clasped above him. He then bent over, slid his arms forward, then rapidly to the side, then to the other, then contorted his body into a pretzel. The audience was not having it. What the fuck is this they thought? Even the judges were confused. What was there to interpret. King Humphrey, in a poetically just manner, grabbed at his heart and then fell forward, as if shot by an invisible bullet. Then he broke out into more intense and rapid movements, sliding, jumping, stamping, swaying, and twisting across the stage like a mutant alien. He then jumped up, landed in the splits, and hurried off the stage. The Blackacre crowd begrudgingly clapped and hooted, but deep downed pondered what the fuck they had just seen.
"And now for the results." The duke appeared. "I know you all can't wait for it, so I won't have you wait. Judges, what's the verdict?"
The judges shuffled through their score boards. Each would hold up two boards: a score for King Amadeus in green, and a score for King Humphrey in black. It was a close-call but the numbers did not lie: three 3's (out of 10) for King Amadeus, and three 2.5's (out of 10) for King Humphrey. King Amadeus won the day! The audience erupted once more for him, "woooo, woooo, woooo!"
But the applause was cut short, when King Amadeus took to the stage to make an announcement. "Now, I know it has been standard for the winning king to avail himself of the plebeian labor of the enemy forces. But today, I wish to do something differently, to assert who the real supreme king is. Today, instead of using my one winner's wish to ask for labor, I ask that I draw a random name from this prepared bucket here, including the names of all Blackacre residents. The name I pull will be executed by a random Greenacre name to be pulled from this other bucket. Failure to comply, will result in death of both parties."
The crowd went dead silent, followed by protests and shouting from the members! They were friends. He couldn't just use his winner's wish to kill, as a death wish! King Humphrey was shocked, and tried to protest as well, "but you mustn't change the order of things." King Amadeus pulled out the royal dance-off contract, which in fine print stated, "winner's wish may be used to kill enemy." What?! Of course it was in the fine print. King Humphrey, an honest man of his word, resigned to the rules, and then the names were called.
"I will start with the killer. For Greenacre, the killer will be Mr. Tertullian Dingle." Tertullian nearly leapt out of the crowd, but was held back. He was just a 20 year old vegetarian BOY who played the accordion, hardly had a violent drop of blood in him! Please don't be the woman I love, he thought, please don't. "And the victim from Blackacre will be Ms. Annalynn Brown." Tertullian's heart sank into despair! Not his love, no, no, not her. Annalynn looked at him from across the fence with a look that would haunt him for the rest of his life (however long that would be). It was the look of, "yes, just do it" and the look of "I love you" combined in one. Annalynn was a beautiful black woman of just 18 years of age. She was wearing a raggedy brown dress ripped at the arms and knees. That was considered unbecoming and immodest of women, except those who worked in the fields. But she was not a field-worker. In fact, she came from a high-end family but liked to wear tattered clothing as a sign of solidarity. On her upper left arm was a gold bangle she inherited from her grandmother. "Just do it," she mouthed to him. The frail and pail and nervous Tertullian (with a sandy blond bowl-cut, the rage of the times, and blue-green eyes), began to shake. The two were summoned to the stage.
King Amadeus grabbed the boy by the shoulder, "now show them what it means to be fearless, boy!" He handed the boy (technically a man, but he looked like a boy), a sharpened knife and whispered, "now, go straight for the jugular; it will shorten the suffering, and a pretty lady like this ought not to suffer long."
The knife shook in Tertullian's hand to the point he almost lost his gripping. He thought for a moment of stabbing the king instead but noticed there were dozens of guards with spears around him (where the hell did they come from?). He looked back at Annalynn, then to his murderous hand that had every urge to preserve his own life. But his heart resisted. "Hurry up now!" The king yelled. The audience looked on silently, sorrowfully. Is this what would come off the dance-offs? Surely, this would erupt into real war, no matter the outcome....
(TBC) | |
[WP] “Using engineered viral agents, the oblivious human test subjects are replaced cell by cell with superior synthetic counterparts; bone and muscle is reinforced and eventually replaced with carbon nanotubes; when Project: ANKH is finished, we will have evolved our species within one generation” | "The human tests are complete, so far no known adverse side affects have shown up," I announced to the members of our small lab, "we have succeeded in deciding our own evolution."
I raised the letter above my head, "we have gotten the go ahead to release the virus into the atmosphere from all the world governments. Project ANKH is to be prepared to go live! Just think, our bodies with replaced with synthetic nanotubes that will never wear out, no more sickness, no more death!”
Cheers from the crowd deafned me, I smiled. I knew it would take months for everyone to be converted, but I only had to hide the true affects our test subjects started displaying until the virus had been released.
--------
Later that night I sat in my office across from the lab. I read a medical report of two of the test subjects, a husband and wife. They didn't know they had been affected by the ANKH virus, but they did understand something had changed in them.
The couple was an average couple, agreeable and pleasant, happy together. They were expecting their first child when they were infected.
The ANKH virus, made the test subjects stronger and unable to get sick, but also made them unable to reproduce. Their first child died in a miscarriage, I wrote that off as being something wrong with the child. It was easy to fudge the data, when you acted as the couple's obstetrician.
The woman, after being affected suddenly started to go through menopause, even though she was only 26. All the women in our study went through menopause. The men in our study started to have low to non-existent sperm counts. I also fudged that data.
The ANKH virus would make us immortal, but unable to have children. I didn't care, as long as it saved my daughter, cure her illness. To hell with the rest of humanity.
| "Using engineered viral agents, the oblivious human test subjects are replaced cell by cell with superior synthetic counterparts; bone and muscle is replaced with carbon nanotubes; when Project ANKH is finished, we will have evolved our species within one generation."
That's what the proposal had said, what they *promised* their investors.
It was meant to be for the rich, those whose fortunes *qualified* them to be a member of the new advent of humanity.
The phrase "Avarice is the root of all evil" has been around for well over a century for a reason.
Beatrix stared out the glass of a large, opulent doorway - she stood in a penthouse, high above the city.
She stepped closer, pressing her hands against the pane, but not venturing through the door to the balcony.
Project ANKH never lived up to it's promise. Instead of elevating the "crème de la crème" to their rightful places as *enlightened superior beings*... it turned them into monsters. Grotesque, *vicious* monsters.
The XTZ conglomerate were their name; the people who tried to play God, but instead reenacted the tale of Icarus - on a scale of horror and destruction too vast and terrible for words alone.
The viral agents - they had underestimated them. You can't just *fuck around* with viral bio weapons and repurpose them. They mutated almost immediately, and again, and again and *again* over and over until it freed itself from their flimsy 'safeguards'. Within weeks of launch, it was spreading.
At first people -those who didn't understand the implications- were thrilled. Beatrix had been, too. Free enlightenment and evolution to a more advancedd existence, who wouldn't want that? So what if you got a little sick for awhile? What's one cold to potential eternity?
"Flu parties" became a trend overnight; those who were sick the guests of honour - though not all of them had the mutated virus. That only made it worse.
The virus was so adaptable, so prevalent. It attacked, almost *consumed* the other diseases it came into contact with. Opening itself up further, becoming more advanced - more distorted. Soon it was everywhere, even crossing the species barrier. It was only when people started to move past their gestation period *everyone* began to realise something wasn't quite right.
Down, down below her, all around her, the city cried out a cacophony of alarms, the roar of flames, sirens, yells, *shouts CRIES-SHRIEKS-SCREAMS-CRASH!* **KKKKKKKRRRIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEeeeee"-**
The piercing, inhuman noise sent Beatrix flinching back from the glass, swiftly flipping her body and pressing herself against the solid lining beside the glass portal. Her breathing was slow, steady and quiet; though this was more due to necessity and not at all evidence of a still heart or mind.
* **"Ke-ke-ke-keriiiiiii-kshhhhhh-ki-kikikiiiiiii"** *
A thud. And another, and then against the glass - a slow, leisurely *scrape*.
Beatrix's heart rate intensified, the roar of blood and fear in her ears. She could just barely hear the *clack-clack* of talons against the balcony's tiles above the frantic drumming in her chest.
Painfully, *slowly*, with her breth held, she moved one hand and edged it towards the machete belted to her side. Her other hand flipped the catch on her holster open and loosened her gun - just in case.
She waited a moment, hand ready to draw, trying desperately to breath *quietly quiet shh calm ohgodstayquiet*.
Her heart rose to a staccato.
She could hear it. Hear it's rasping inhalation. The clicks it made with its... whatever they were.
She heard the clink of *bio-fucking-engineered-claws* on the dainty, metal table outside.
She tightened her grip on her machete. She couldn't use her gun - not unless she wanted more of them on her. With clenched jaw, a look of determination settled on her face.
*"KrrrR-kiKIiiki-kiirr"* The inhuman, unnerving noise sounded again... closer, even with her heart in her ears. Her breathing becoming unbalanced, her back against the wall, she began pulling her weapon free.
Two, humongous, serrated talons stabbed clean through the wall, her lower stomach and her chest.
With a violent *"shiiink!"* they crossed paths and slid past each other - slicing her into four. The pieces, Beatrix, hit the floor with a solid, wet *thwack-splat!* Her half drawn machete clanged as she did.
The talons withdrew through the now gaping hole in the wall - the glass beside it shattered from the movements that ended Beatrix.
One eye, suspended from an almost tentacle like vine, passed through the hole. It moved, surveying the pieces from side to side, all around.
Having comfirmed a corpse below, it retracted back outside - only for a spiked, bastard child of a scorpion's tail and a syringe to shoot through. It stabbed into one of the hunks of meat, withdrawing something, before deftly snapping back through the wall.
With a sudden, sharp and shrill scraping noise the monster leapt - on the hunt once again.
EDIT: Sorry for shit formatting in places. On mobile and don't have time to properly edit! | |
[WP] You have the ability to leave your body and wander as a spirit for a specific duration of time. Last night you went to wander and when you came back you see yourself making breakfast. | I'd always reveled in the escape this astral projection ability gave me. The ability to leave reality behind while I explored the world was like an addiction I couldn't put down. The freedom, the possibilities. Too many sleepless nights eased after a soothing trip soaring the skies.
One such night, I lay awake in bed, staring tiredly at the digital clock on my bedside table.
*3:42 AM*.
"I used to go to sleep at 10, what happened?" I mumbled into my pillow.
*3:45 AM*.
"...right, no longer any reason to."
I gave up on my attempts for unconsciousness as I slumped deeper into the bed, pulling my sense of self into my core as I emerged as a spirit, and floated out the window.
--------
I had just finished watching the sun rise over the ocean when I realized it was long past the time when I would have felt the tugging that signified my body pulling my spirit back to my physical form. A jogger on the beach passed below me, and I flew a bit lower to glance at the time displayed on their smartwatch.
*6:40 AM*
"Shit, so it's 8:40 back home!?" I immediately darted around and started speeding back, my astral form leaving blue wisps of ethereal energy in my wake.
I was way past time. This had never happened before, what if something had happened to my body? Below, the land flew past me, highways and state welcome signs blurring together in my haste.
What if I couldn't go back?
I slowed down a bit as I approached my city.
Would that be so bad?
I was at my building. At my window, I could see the shades were already open. Sun was shining into my freshly made bed and as I passed through the glass I could hear the sound of humming coming from the kitchen. After a moment, I realized the humming was my voice, though slightly more in tune than usual, and I could smell scrambled eggs and pancakes. I poked my head through the wall and saw my body, freshly showered with a towel around its neck, wearing a clean shirt and pants, and humming a new tune I'd never heard before as it flipped pancakes onto a plate next to a pile of eggs. It looked up and then straight at me, and then I was face to face with... my face. Behind those brown eyes, I could see a faint essence of that same wispy ethereal energy that accompanied my astral form, though these wisps were paler green compared to the blue wisps that were sparking out of my form amidst my worry.
"Forgive me for intruding," the spirit said, my body going into a half bow towards my direction as the lips curled into the shape of a smile, "but it's just been so long since I've been able to cook I just couldn't resist."
---------------------------------------------------------
Hi, first time posting, probably will continue this later but my ideas are all over the place. | When everyone else is sleeping, I like to go and wander around. Why? I like the night. While others get nervous going out after hours, for me it’s quite relaxing. The quiet streets, the city lights, and when its dark, no one really cares if you’re simply lounging around, thinking, enjoying the view. Unlike in the day, where one should look busy and important. Otherwise, you’d be seen as a bum, or, god forbid, a kid.
One of my favorite pastimes is people watching. Usually, people don’t care how they look at these hours. If they do, they’re probably out with people, or they want to get laid. Or both. I enjoy this, simply because I’m a fly in the wall. No one usually sees me, but I get to see everything. There’s something so thrilling about those two facts. I know the best spots to see most of the action while remaining unseen.
Do you want in on these spots?
Well, frankly, you probably can’t. You need to be up high, usually.
You see, I’m an ethereal being.
Yes, “that shit” exists. We usually enjoy being discreet and unknown, but quite a few do thrive on the attention and fear from the physical human beings. Those beings are usually from dead humans, or those particularly troubled.
Anyway, back to me. I usually watch people in clubs around the world, see what they’re really like, and how different countries interact in these places. You probably can’t tell much, because of the boozy haze and the loud, distracting music. I hate these places, because I typically like other, “refined” genres of music. But honestly, I’m extremely jealous of those people, savoring the sweat of their dancing partners, mingling, and flirting, finding a warm body to spend the night with and feel less alone. Even if I could, it’d probably end up disastrously. I have social anxiety and poor self-esteem. Well, that’s what you get for being a spirit, eh? Alone in the dark, as always. I don’t run in to many other spirits, too.
Other than my loneliness, being a spirit is actually quite nice. I get to be away from my human host, for one. I mean, he slaves through his job most of the day. More often than not, he’s on Quora, a smoke break, or on Reddit, though, because he works fast, or he doesn’t get enough tasks. Also, even at night, he still thinks about work. I applaud his dedication, but I know he’s tired from this, mostly because he’s not getting paid enough. Even a healthy lifestyle is too expensive for him. And all this negativity affects my well-being, too.
Thankfully, he’s on vacation today, and it’s given him some time to think, and actually relax, enjoy life. What’s it like to be me - walking around with no necessary purpose.
You really take a toll from the 9-6 life (usually ends up being a 24-hour thing because he has nothing better to do). This means I’ve had some time to decompress, too.
Sometimes, I just want to smack him right in the face. He needs to tidy up his life, and move away from the toxicity. But no, he’s too afraid of big changes. Even on taking this vacation, he actually wanted to decline, and just work. God, the life of this guy, huh.
I do wonder if he’s aware of my presence, though. I think he’s on to something - poor timing on my part led him to being conscious on my arrival. He caught me moments before selection and transfer, and because of that, he saw what I saw - me watching his life (he was reading a book with his mother at age 4), and me speeding through space and into Earth, and into his body. He never really thought much about me.
Heh, I’ve been going on too long, have I? I think I should go back to my host. All this wandering and thinking, I missed the sunrise. My human might wake soon.
Uh, he’s not on his bed? Let me check the bathroom, maybe he fell asleep there.. nope, not there.
Shit. Where is he? I know he couldn’t be awake. No human host has awaken before us spirits have returned. Well, my human tried to, and he ended up shaking on his bed like a crazy fish out of water, unable to consciously move any muscle. Heh.
Something smells good in the kitche-
Oh, no.
“Oh, hello.”
What is he doing conscious and awake?
“I’ve just finished cooking breakfast. I finally caught you out. We need to talk.”
Shit, what is this about? Damn, I really don’t know what to do in this situation.
Is another soul residing in your body?
“I can’t tell. But I’ve been having these dreams. Dreams about you, actually. Numerous dreams about your existence. I’ve been getting them in cryptic pieces, until earlier, when I pieced them all together in the dream.”
Who told you? Who fed you the information? You can’t know this. This is CLASSIFIED. You must be-
“Terminated? No. Do you think that the viewers of this live video would like to see me choke to death? Considering I’ve wrote a letter stating my knowledge to the private audience of this video, any action you take against me will only provide proof of my seemingly bullshit statement.”
FUCK. This isn’t fucking happening. Someone fucking snap me out of my dream. Oh, wait, only he can, and he’s fucking AWAKE, idiot.
What do you want me to do?
“Good. Let’s talk. With them. There’ll be a plane ticket waiting for us later in the afternoon.”
Shit. | |
[WP] You have the ability to leave your body and wander as a spirit for a specific duration of time. Last night you went to wander and when you came back you see yourself making breakfast. | I'd always reveled in the escape this astral projection ability gave me. The ability to leave reality behind while I explored the world was like an addiction I couldn't put down. The freedom, the possibilities. Too many sleepless nights eased after a soothing trip soaring the skies.
One such night, I lay awake in bed, staring tiredly at the digital clock on my bedside table.
*3:42 AM*.
"I used to go to sleep at 10, what happened?" I mumbled into my pillow.
*3:45 AM*.
"...right, no longer any reason to."
I gave up on my attempts for unconsciousness as I slumped deeper into the bed, pulling my sense of self into my core as I emerged as a spirit, and floated out the window.
--------
I had just finished watching the sun rise over the ocean when I realized it was long past the time when I would have felt the tugging that signified my body pulling my spirit back to my physical form. A jogger on the beach passed below me, and I flew a bit lower to glance at the time displayed on their smartwatch.
*6:40 AM*
"Shit, so it's 8:40 back home!?" I immediately darted around and started speeding back, my astral form leaving blue wisps of ethereal energy in my wake.
I was way past time. This had never happened before, what if something had happened to my body? Below, the land flew past me, highways and state welcome signs blurring together in my haste.
What if I couldn't go back?
I slowed down a bit as I approached my city.
Would that be so bad?
I was at my building. At my window, I could see the shades were already open. Sun was shining into my freshly made bed and as I passed through the glass I could hear the sound of humming coming from the kitchen. After a moment, I realized the humming was my voice, though slightly more in tune than usual, and I could smell scrambled eggs and pancakes. I poked my head through the wall and saw my body, freshly showered with a towel around its neck, wearing a clean shirt and pants, and humming a new tune I'd never heard before as it flipped pancakes onto a plate next to a pile of eggs. It looked up and then straight at me, and then I was face to face with... my face. Behind those brown eyes, I could see a faint essence of that same wispy ethereal energy that accompanied my astral form, though these wisps were paler green compared to the blue wisps that were sparking out of my form amidst my worry.
"Forgive me for intruding," the spirit said, my body going into a half bow towards my direction as the lips curled into the shape of a smile, "but it's just been so long since I've been able to cook I just couldn't resist."
---------------------------------------------------------
Hi, first time posting, probably will continue this later but my ideas are all over the place. | When I was a kid, I used to ask my dad a lot of questions about how stuff worked (why does a soap dissolve in water but we don't, why does the sun change colour, etc.), but he was never one for heady scientific discussions. My parents were not highly educated and much of science seemed like magic to them. My curiosity was a futile endeavour that I soon abandoned as I came to internalise many physical phenomenon as unquestionable truths.
I stopped asking why. Everything just *was*.
Once I saw a news report on TV about a team of researchers trying to reduce sleeping hours, which take up to 8 hours of every day, to make humanity more productive. This made my 6-year old self really uncomfortable.
What the h*ll was sleep?
Every night, my mom would sing me a lullaby that would transport me to... another place. It was a new yet familiar place every time. It felt less solid than the normal place, like things were not real here yet. Or like I was looking through rain time windows.
I would find myself doing strange things in these places. Once, I had a car which I drove for an hour to reach this huge, I mean really big, biggest I've ever seen, glass building. It seemed infinitely big. Despite it's gargantuan size, I occupied in it a really small square within which was a desk and a screen which I stared at for 8 hours.
After a while, I would hear my mom's voice again and be pulled back into the normal place. I had done this for as long as I remember.
This one had been longer than usual, though it was really hard to tell time in this place. This time, I was making breakfast for my 2 kids (I had kids, Peter and Gemma), when a man clad in a translucent bedsheet floated in through the window. I knew my kids couldn't see him which was tragic, considering they were really *his* kids.
It spoke in a ghostly voice, language intertwined with emotion,
"Dude, we're both so fucked."
Haw, he used a curse word!
| |
[WP] At a world peace summit, it comes to light that you are the only world leader that isn't a lizard person. | The summit was a private one. I in my classic trench coat stood up. “Ok so for this peace summit I would like to reque-“ I was cut off by the leader of Russia. “Relax comrad. We don’t need to put up this facade anymore. I’m going to be in my real form if you all don’t mind.” At that point Putin started to shed his skin revealing a scaly green lizard person underneath.
I for one was shocked and speechless the others however... “Yah he’s right I really hate this human skin.” One by one all the world leaders shed there skin till I was the only one left. “Hey it’s ok. You don’t need to be in costume anymore
Luckily I was a good actor wouldn’t have been a world leader otherwise. “Honestly you dolts what if someone walks in? I’m keeping it on.” One of them looked at me. “Haven’t you heard? We can execute any witnesses and replace them with relative ease. What you missed the memo?” I stared daggers at him. “Well I for one want to kill as little as possible. Anyway we really need to do this peace..” I was cut off again.
“Hey really you don’t need to be so tight. We could all just say it went well and-“ I interrupted him. “And what? If all our stories aren’t the same then what? This is world peace something people have always wanted. We can’t make up some half baked story. We actually need to do our jobs as political figures.”
A couple of them started to stand up. “Hey shed your skin.” I denied the request like before. More of them stood up and one of em walked towards me. “I wasn’t asking do it now.” I acted calm and started to walk out. Then one of them stopped me. “Take it off NOW!” They grabbed my coat and tore it off.
All the lizard men backed off immediately clearly in shock. Granted they thought I was a lizard person not 2 dwarves in a trench coat. “Sheeeet...” I hopped of my ‘legs’ and we bolted through the door. | You know, I should've seen it coming when the servers brought out crickets.
Yeah, I thought it was strange too. Really? Crickets? I glanced over at the Prime Minister of London, to see his reaction, to express my confusion. Instead I saw him dig in. I glanced around, seeing more and more people just... diving right in. I looked back at my plate. Could they be cooked, or something? Dipped in spices and such? I picked up my fork, and poked one. It hopped away, seemingly awoken from a sleep. A tongue caught it from across the room before it hit the floor. I stared in awe at the President of the United States as he dabbed his mouth, pushing a cricket back into his mouth. He grinned, with pointed teeth.
"I, uh. I have to use the bathroom." The Prime Minister of Canada chuckled.
"Really, S'kretch. There's no need to pretend to be human now. In fact, let's all relax." I watched in utter horror as the Prime Minister grasped his neck and tugged. I watched his face peel away, slick and disgusting, and saw the face underneath. His face was human\-shaped, but the similarities ended there. His teeth were sharp as knives, and his face was coated in scales in numerous colors, reds and greens and blues. His eyes bulged out slightly in the front, like a gecko's. He smiled broadly. "Have you learned your lesson about impersonating a government official, *Human?*" I stood, pushing back my chair, before taking off down the hallway as security pointed their guns at me. I felt a bullet smash into my shoulder, and stumbled, before I heard the crack of a second gun going off. And then blissful nonexistance. | |
[WP] James Bond enters a bar to meet his newest accomplice for his latest mission. As he sits down to brief his mission he introduces himself to his new partner. “Bond, James Bond. And you are?” The man answers with “Wick. John Wick.” | "What can I do for you, Mr. Wick?" Bond asked. He was sitting properly in his chair, wearing a clean black suit.
"You have a problem." Wick said, his face typically stoic. He, too, wore a suit, but his long hair and beard were an eyesore.
"And that is?" Bond asked.
"Me." Wick replied.
Bond's eyes grew larger, but he didn't flinch. He had his team pat down every patron who wished to enter. If this Wick intended on killing him, he would have to do so with the objects available to him at the table.
"And why is that?" Bond asked, ready to smash his glass through Wick's face.
"I'm an assassin, and I've been hired to kill you." Wick said, sitting back in his chair, surveying the bar for the third time in as many minutes. He seemed too relaxed for an American.
"But you won't." Bond concluded. "Because...?"
"It's in both our interest to put an end to this." Wick said, slowly removing an envelope from inside his jacket. He placed it in the middle of the table.
"Your eyes only." Wick said.
Bond pulled a packet from the envelope, revealing a dizzying amount of information connecting every high-level agency, and crime syndicate in the world. A conspiracy theorist would call it validation.
"How did you get this?" Bond asked.
"I was tasked with eliminating the man who had this information." Wick said.
"And where he is now?" Bond asked.
"Waiting." Wick said.
Ignoring the final sip in his glass, Mr. Bond stood up, straightened his coat, and dropped money on the table. "My car is around the corner."
Bonds' team opened the door for him, at which point they were waved off. "I've got it from here, boys."
Bond walked alone, feeling oddly vulnerable. Wick took the long way around, through the alley, where he'd dumped his bag of weapons. Then they met at Bond's car.
"Moment of truth, Mr. Wick." Bond said with his usual, cool, demeanor.
"He's paranoid." Wick said. "And tired of running."
After a short, five minute drive, the two world-class killers walked into the hotel. Wick knocked twice, then again, two more times in rapid cessation. The door opened, and the men walked in.
"This room is secure." A very blonde man said. "Assange. Julian Assange." | James Bond was not amused. He had gotten a call from the Spy Development centre and the scientist had started excitedly babbling in his ears.
“Yes…..finally succeeded….2…never in….come in.. say hello.” Bond had gathered that they wanted him to
come in to the lab, however even as a top agent, he could not decipher whatever the heck the scientist had wanted
to convey with his rambling.
Well, no matter. He'd see for himself soon enough.
He got up from his luxurious couch overlooking the dazzling sunset and clicked a button that transferred a small private plane
on his roof.
If he hurried, he could probably get home just in time for his date.
————————————————————
Bond walked in to the crisp, clinical air in the lab as the door hissed close behind him. The air conditioned room was bliss in the summer heat.
“Welcome,” a scientist boomed, his moustache quivering in his excitement.
Bond observed the scientist. Going by his voice he was likely the man who had spoken to him on the phone.
His portly belly and jolly smile gave him a sunny demeanour and hid the shrewd look in his eyes.
Bond wondered whether he should be on guard. On one hand this was a relatively unknown person and
on the other he had never known any brilliant scientists that weren't annoyingly cunning or
insufferably smug at their own existence.
“We have finally finished creating it. It's been tested and modified and perfectly in condition to work.” Ah.
Look, there was the smugness. It seemed as if the scientist had gotten past in excitement and was ready
for the world to praise his accomplishments.
“Ahem, not to brag but these models are better than any humankind has ever seen. A miracle. This will definitely leave a
mark on history.” The scientist collected himself and wiped the sweat on his brows.
“Ah, where are my manners? I am Dr. Velt. I have been working on the development of this product for
nearly 5 years now. The higher ups had given you the order to analyze the usefulness of the product
once completed, I suppose?…. yes, yes no worries, you will definitely be satisfied.”
Bond raised his eyebrows,”I have not yet been told what this product yet…”
He waited for the scientist to respond but Dr.Velt seemed perfectly at ease in ignoring his hint.
“Oh yes, you'll see, no need to rush, no rush at all.” He cackled.
Dr. Velt led him down the stiflingly still, silver hallway into a room with lava lamps that provided barely enough
light to see by. Velt walked to the centre of the room and dramatically took a white sheet off a
structure in the middle of the room.
Fluorescent lights flooded his eyes at that exact moment and Bond squinted his eyes in annoyance.
“I Present To You…..James Bond 2.0!!!”
There in the middle of the room was a man who looked exactly like him to the very strands of his hair.
Bond stared , “ What the…”
“Yes, Yes, is it not just brilliant? It can do anything you can do plus every normal human activity. We even
had experts from various fields and profession come in to help with the programming. Essentially it's an even
better version of you.”
“Its intelligence is so advanced that it can comprehend every emotion and will even live out its life to the span of
an above average human lifetime .”
Dr.Velt huffed in pride, “ It's a breakthrough in human engineering.”
Bond paused,” So it comprehends every emotion? Even anger, hatred…?”
“ Oh, why must you people always focus on the negative things? Look on the brighter side… this model could
probably replace every operative on the field.. there would be even less deaths.”
“Even better, if it goes insane, I hold no responsibility over it. After all, it was the higher ups that had
commissioned this project.It's already out of my hands the moment it was finished. As long as I do not purposefully
insert harmful virus in it, it's not my fault”
Velt shrugged in indifference.
“I will be renowned in professional circles, and more importantly—I am earning billions from this project, billions you see?”
Bond recovered his composure, “ Replace every operative on the field? That claim is a bit ridiculous ,
don't you think?”
Dr.Velt if possible looked even more gleeful.” I was just waiting for you to ask that, you know. Watch.”
With that he pulled out a remote, and typed in a code. The entire back wall groaned open to reaveal another room of
massive proportions.
However Bond had no time to be amazed by the size of the room. Because what was inside,
lined up row by row like toys, like a never ending nightmare, were identical models. Identical models that looked exactly
like him.
Velt came up from behind him.
“And they all have the same function”.
————————————————-
James walked in the bar to meet his new partner. As he sat on the counter getting a drink, in came a man with the exact same face.
James rose up to meet him.
“Hello, I'm Bond. James Bond.
The identical looking stranger offered his hand.
“I'm Wick. John Wick.”
A/N: Someone please tell me what the heck happened with the font T-T ORZ. | |
[WP] James Bond enters a bar to meet his newest accomplice for his latest mission. As he sits down to brief his mission he introduces himself to his new partner. “Bond, James Bond. And you are?” The man answers with “Wick. John Wick.” | "What can I do for you, Mr. Wick?" Bond asked. He was sitting properly in his chair, wearing a clean black suit.
"You have a problem." Wick said, his face typically stoic. He, too, wore a suit, but his long hair and beard were an eyesore.
"And that is?" Bond asked.
"Me." Wick replied.
Bond's eyes grew larger, but he didn't flinch. He had his team pat down every patron who wished to enter. If this Wick intended on killing him, he would have to do so with the objects available to him at the table.
"And why is that?" Bond asked, ready to smash his glass through Wick's face.
"I'm an assassin, and I've been hired to kill you." Wick said, sitting back in his chair, surveying the bar for the third time in as many minutes. He seemed too relaxed for an American.
"But you won't." Bond concluded. "Because...?"
"It's in both our interest to put an end to this." Wick said, slowly removing an envelope from inside his jacket. He placed it in the middle of the table.
"Your eyes only." Wick said.
Bond pulled a packet from the envelope, revealing a dizzying amount of information connecting every high-level agency, and crime syndicate in the world. A conspiracy theorist would call it validation.
"How did you get this?" Bond asked.
"I was tasked with eliminating the man who had this information." Wick said.
"And where he is now?" Bond asked.
"Waiting." Wick said.
Ignoring the final sip in his glass, Mr. Bond stood up, straightened his coat, and dropped money on the table. "My car is around the corner."
Bonds' team opened the door for him, at which point they were waved off. "I've got it from here, boys."
Bond walked alone, feeling oddly vulnerable. Wick took the long way around, through the alley, where he'd dumped his bag of weapons. Then they met at Bond's car.
"Moment of truth, Mr. Wick." Bond said with his usual, cool, demeanor.
"He's paranoid." Wick said. "And tired of running."
After a short, five minute drive, the two world-class killers walked into the hotel. Wick knocked twice, then again, two more times in rapid cessation. The door opened, and the men walked in.
"This room is secure." A very blonde man said. "Assange. Julian Assange." | Bond raised an eyebrow in surprise.
"Mr Wick... I've heard a great deal about you."
John Wick sat in silence, in time he produced a brown envelope and pushed it across the table towards Bond. Seventeen years as an M15 operative had taught Bond a lot but some things weren't learned, they were instinct. He had been in situations like this before. They rarely ended well.
The envelope remained untouched, both men's hands lay palms down on the table.
"What's in the envelope?" Bond asked.
"A photograph." Wick replied.
Bond's face betrayed no emotion."A photograph of me?" he asked.
"Yes." said Wick.
With a barley perceivable nod Bond motioned to two fellow agents sat at the Bar. Wick heard the two guns being unholstered, as he span in his seat Bond barked "STOP." As Wick turned back in his chair he found himself staring at the barrel of the legendary Walther PPK.
"We don't want to kill you Wick, we just want to know who is paying you.... is it Tarasov?"
Bond motioned with his gun and in response Wick placed his on the table and slid it towards the Englishman.
"I swore I would never speak of this person." Wick said, "But I suppose there's nothing stopping me writing his name."
"That's the spirit," Bond replied.
Another nod from Bond brought one of the men at the Bar to the table, his gun remained drawn. The agent reached the table and Wick watched as he was presented with a blank piece of paper and a pencil. A fucking pencil.
Be gentle with me. This is my first ever WP reply!
| |
[WP] A women is found unconscious in the middle of a busy city. Her body is marked with names and dates, some are glowing red, some are striked out. | Shining eyes beat down on the woman lying in the 127th street left-right lane. Cars, motorcycles, and trucks flowed in rampant sync. A jockey whipped each motorist who toed too close to the victim, flashing 'GET OUT OF THE WAY' in their vision just quick enough for the vehicle to slide into the left-left lane. The hallucinatory vision was a cosmic warning, and no one failed adhere to the programming. Days and Nights passed as I eyed that woman through a pair of wooden binoculars from the balcony of an arcadian La Quinta Inn. Tattoos – names and dates – sprawled around her body. They were done up with black ink. Others appeared as I decayed into a voyeurism that was all too personal.
Eventually, I began to recognize the names on her body. It was overwhelming. I pulled out a red highlighter and black sharpie. Then I forged a release for myself. I drew a cross on my binoculars at every name I recognized. I pulled the highlighter back and forth my binoculars across each date that could be accounted for. Blurry tattoo lines unfamiliar to my memory remained to be seen through the sparse moments of clarity. The jockey flashed in my vision. My screams were muffled by the screeching of his iridescent fingernails upon the lens of my binoculars that I now couldn’t look away from. He removed strikes and highlights, leaving my vision unpleasant and clear. I couldn’t move anymore. I couldn’t close my eyes.
The jockey decided there were more pertinent matters to attend to, so he left. The body was then run over by cars, motorcycles, and trucks. It was flattened repeatedly and continued to flatten infinitely across time as space. And I remained watching life’s horrors where I had always been – my eyes were wooden binoculars. | I strolled down the city of New York at night admiring the gloomy atmosphere wondering what my next case would be when I saw something red glowing in the corner of my eye. I stopped and turned to see a women clad in black with cuts in her skin. As I walked closer I began to notice that the cuts were in fact names that appear to be crossed out.
I stagger back a few steps when I see a name on the inside of her wrist dimly lit red, glow brighter with every second. I shout in the confusion while a crowd slowly gathers around me. I reach for my phone and take pictures of as many names and dates as possible. At this moment everyone seems to be in a eminent frenzy, the crowd was running away. I am facing the lady clad in black with one hand clutching my phone and the other in my pocket
A strong gust of wind hits the back of my neck sending chills down my spine followed by a ferocious roar. I turn around pulling out a book from my pocket and yell the words the page opens to. "elanium Colescis" a Khanda appears in my left hand. With the double edged sword I fling it forward realising the source of the roar was a dragon. After realising what i was up against i flicked through my book to a page marked Protection .
I chant a string of words and I encompassed by a clear bubble protecting my whole body as the beast lets out another roar followed by a burst of flames. The bubble around me disappears but now i am encompassed my a cloud of smoke. The smoke settles and I turn around to see the lady gone but in her place, a book. Almost identical except for an emblem of a lion imprinted on the front cover. I was taken back as I realised, There were others in New York who were part of the Magnus Circle.
I got bored and wrote this, all feedback welcome | |
[WP] While you were alive, people always told you that there was a special place in hell for people like you. You've just died and discovered that they were right. | "Welcome to Hell Stan!"
"Uh... hi?"
Stan couldn't believe his eyes. He was dead, and he was definitely not in heaven. Not that surprising though, he had his share of tiny little sins.
"You don't look that shocked. Good! That will save us time. My name is Azazel, and I will be your host for today."
"Uh... I'm Stan" said Stan while lifting his hand trying to shake hands with Azazel. Azazel looked at Stan's hand and said :
"... Yeah... no. We don't do that here. Keep your hand please, I don't want you to give me germs. So let's see... lying... theft... cheating... the usual..." Azazel was looking through a book, and suddenly, his smile faded. "Oh... So you're *that* kind of person." He lifted his eyes toward Stan with a look of disgust
"What? Was it because I wear socks with sandals?" said Stan dumbfounded
"No. But it doesn't help your case, mister disgusting guy. Follow me."
Stan ran behind Azazel, visibly shaken and furious.
"Wait!! Could you at least tell me what I have done?"
"Oh you perfectly know it! Didn't anyone tell you that there is a special place in hell for people like you?" Flames came out of Azazel eyes while saying it.
It happened from time to time, yes but... those were just words...
"Here." said Azazel "Go join your kind."
In front of Stan was a pit filled with people, their arms tied to their bodies. In front of the pit, there was a sign :
"*People who don't use their turn signal*".
******
*more stories on /r/cynferdd* | All I remember was the a loud crashing as I crossed the tracks. Then nothing.
I awoke in a dimly lit room, surrounded by robed figures. A voice rang out, as if all were speaking to me at once.
"Welcome home, your highness." | |
[WP] While you were alive, people always told you that there was a special place in hell for people like you. You've just died and discovered that they were right. | All my life, I was told that there was a special place in Hell for people like me. All the way in the deepest level of Hell, was the home of my kind of people. People who science everything and don't accept anything which doesn't make sense.
I didn't care about them at all. Sure I can be a bit of a party-pooper some times, but I also made everyone's daily lives better with the construction of the first space elevator. I also didn't think that there would be an afterlife, so I didn't bother devoting much thought to it. When the time came, I didn't believe in whomever or do whatever it was that got you into heaven, so I ended up in Hell.
"Welcome, Mr. Jones. We've been expecting that you would arrive shortly," the demon at the front desk said.
*Don't freak out too much. This is Hell, demons are supposed to exist here. Just act natural.*
"You've been...*expecting* me?" I asked him, curious as to why they would pay that much attention to me.
"Well, you see, we need more people like you here, to prepare for the upcoming battle. So we keep tabs on everyone who we feel might be useful, and we try to make arrangements for when you arrive. Anyways, your room will be on level 3. Through these doors stands Azal'thun the Proud, who will guide you to your room."
*Ok,* I thought. *Things are going to be fine. I should be able to avoid fighting in a battle because of my lack of physical strength.* My lungs immediately felt tired as I remembered the time I had to run 200 meters without stopping. Or maybe it was the fact that I'd just opened the door into literal Hell and the air jumped up at least 20 degrees from the fires that I could literally see less than 100 feet away.
"Ah, Mr. Jones. I'll guide you to your room. Come this way, we'll go down to your room in the elevators, right over there," a smaller and weaker demon, probably the Azal'thun the desk demon mentioned, told me.
"Wait, *down*?" I asked. "I thought my room is on level 3. Isn't level 3 above the entrance?"
"Sorry, I keep forgetting to explain that," Azal'thun said, clearly growing flustered. "The world is actually like two pyramids on top of each other, with the bottom upside-down. Right in the middle is the mortal plane, where you live during your life. The bottom pyramid is Hell, and the upper pyramid is Heaven. We're currently at the top of Hell, and we go down 17 levels to reach your floor."
I wiped the forming sweat on my palms onto my pants and swallowed, nervous over going that deep into hell. But I didn't have anything else to do, so I followed Azal'thun into the elevator and descended. When I stepped out, though, it didn't look anything like before. The air was cool and moist, like underground. I could almost see my wife and kids from the time we visited Mammoth Cave on vacation, this level felt and looked so much like it.
At first, I was a bit confused. I thought hell was all like the fire and brimstone that I saw just a few moments earlier. But then I remembered: heat rises. So the higher levels of hell are actually worse, and the deeper levels are nicer.
Azal'thun must have noticed that I was thinking because he told me, "Yeah, it's a common misconception that the deeper levels of Hell are worse. That Dante fellow wrote about us, but he only saw the higher half of Hell. It's true that we put the worse people deeper in at first, so it's harder for them to escape, but that's only the upper half. Half the people we get are actually decent people, they just weren't religious, so there's no need to punish them or anything."
"Anyways, this is your room right here. You'll have a few days to make yourself comfortable, then I'll be back to escort you to the room where we're preparing for the upcoming battle."
"An upcoming battle?" I asked. "What, are we storming the gates of Heaven?"
"That was the plan once, but not for a while," Azal'thun replied. "There's this other guy who showed up and is making all of us feel a bit on edge. Odin and his warriors in Valhalla are all great fighters, and they've been threatening to storm both Heaven and Hell for a few millenia. Since he started, we've actually worked together with Heaven in mutual defense against him. I have a few statesmen attempting to pursuade Elysium to join our cause also, but it looks like they'll stay neutral in this war." | All I remember was the a loud crashing as I crossed the tracks. Then nothing.
I awoke in a dimly lit room, surrounded by robed figures. A voice rang out, as if all were speaking to me at once.
"Welcome home, your highness." | |
[WP] You recently gained the ability to see people's K/D ratios, expecting to just be able to avoid people with kills. You certainly weren't expecting the groups of people with multiple deaths. | Memory Devices are illegal, and for good reason. First it was perverts copying the lost erotic dreams of unsuspecting victims, then soon it was hackers lifting passwords and thieves lifting pin numbers. Now, all such devices are strictly controlled by the government, only used for law enforcement when required. Whether this was good or bad was a matter for political students.
But, like all rules, there's always a way around them. Most of the people who break this rule get caught, when the victim is forced to relive their memories. It's obvious and it's stupid. Some get away with it while their victim is asleep, how can you tell a memory from a dream? But try and explain to cops why you are perched half way up a building pointing a receiver at a sleeping person through a window. The dish may as well be a pair of binoculars at that point.
That's where my genius comes in. I figured out a way to get just a flash of a memory. What use is that you might ask. I can tell whether or not someone has done something, just by if the memory exists or not, and even how many times the memory exists. Of course, it's not fool proof, people do forget things over time. But the benefit of my device is that they don't even know you've read them, it's just another flash of repressed memory coming to the conscious mind, just like all of the others.
Of course, there were so many ways to use it, for science of course. First I tried counting how many times people had broken the law, but I soon found that people had thousands of these memories, that volume of remembering would be too risky. How many times people had stolen was also stupidly high, even taking into consideration it only brought up memories where the person knew they were stealing at the time. How many times people had committed adultery was a most interesting one, until I ran into one poor lady whose ears were nearly steaming after a full minute of recollection. The final count was over a thousand; I felt sorry for her husband.
But that's not why I'm here. I'm telling you this because I'm afraid. You see, one of the most interesting ones was setting the scanner to tell me how many times someone had murdered someone else, as in killed. Almost all of the populace is at zero, the occasional person was a one, and very rarely a two, most of the time because of a car accident; But recently I was allowed a very sobering walk around death row, and it's not an experience I want to repeat.
As a laugh I also added a count for how many deaths people had experienced, you know, like from Halo 9. There's no respawn on Earth however, right? Wrong. I don't know how, but I started running into people with a count of one or two. I guess some of them must have caught me staring at them in fear, before the flash recall of their own death passed behind their eyes. I moved quickly from the scene, before they could identify me, while their own personal horror was etched onto their face. Sometimes you don't even remember what you remember until it's too late.
I had to see what they've seen. I broke the law, and peered into their memories. It's the same thing every time, a long limbed 'man' with no face. He slashes, breaks and drowns his victims, but they remain alive afterwards. Why? I don't know. Does he take their souls if such a thing even exists? Does he just feed on their terror?
All I know is that the police are after me. I needed to get to the truth, but it's got me caught up into trouble. I've broken another law tonight, and used my gadget to implant my memory in your mind. You might think you're reading this on Reddit right now, but this is just a memory I'm implanting.
Now that you know the truth, you can help me. I can't tell you any more, except if you ever see the slender man, RUN! | I don't know how I got this power... no, curse. I don't know why I was chosen out of all the people on this planet, but I was. And now, I am going to die because of it.
Let's back up a little bit. It was April 13th of last year, and I had just woken up from a hard night of partying at Leo's place. I made my normal cup of coffee, got dressed, and prepared myself for the inevitable hangover that would soon follow. I never got hangovers instantly, more 10 minutes or so after I wake up.
I sat down on my couch and flipped on the news. There was a story about some Russian oil ships sinking in the Arctic. I groaned loud enough for Denni, the old woman who lives beneath me, to hear it. The hungover had set in.
"Are you okay, Al?" She asked me through the floor. I responded with a weak, "humgevor," as that is our code for me having a hangover.
"Alright then, I just wanted to make sure you were okay," she called out. Denni was such a sweet old lady, always brought candy for the little ones on the bottom floor and made soup for someone whenever they felt sick.
I tried to stand up, but just fell right back down onto the couch. I looked at the time in the bottom right corner of the television as the news anchor droned on about global warming. It read, "8:23 a.m., Tuesday, 4/13."
Eli would be home soon. He always left our apartment around 5 in the morning to go to basketball practice. His coach would assign practice at 5 in the morning and 2 in the afternoon, and if he felt really angry, 6 at night.
I just decided to lie down on the couch and try to sleep. The splitting headache I had just wouldn't let me, though. I eventually worked up the courage to stand up, and I made my way to the kitchen to whip up some toast. My headache had gotten better, so I was able to successfully make toast without falling unconscious.
As I sat back down on the couch, I heard the familiar jingle of keys outside my door. I bit into the first piece of toast as Eli walked in to the apartment. I heard him sit down at the kitchen table behind me and sigh heavily.
"Hard day at practice?" I asked him without turning around, and as I bit into a crunchy part of my toast I heard him chuckle.
"Hard? I can barely feel my legs."
"I take it you wouldn't be up for a morning jog?" I ask him, finishing my first piece of toast. I can tell he's staring at with the most "Oh really?" look on his face, so I turned around to face him.
That's when my life changed forever.
Right above Eli's head was a little T graph, that read "K," on the right and "D," on the left. I recognized it from one of my F.P.S. shooters, a k/d ratio graph. But what was it doing in real life?
"Probably just a figure of my imagination," I thought to myself. I HAD play a lot of video games last night with William and Leo. Maybe my brain is just trying to recuperate from my multiple shots of black lamb last night.
There was one thing bothering me though, even if it wasn't real.
There was a little number "3" underneath the "K" collumn.
Hello. It is currently 2 a.m. and I am tired as all hell. I will continue the story in the replies to this comment.
-12_bagels | |
Thanks! | [WP] Incorporate the following phrase into a piece of any length: "The spider of course, said nothing." | "YOU WANT SOME OF THIS, MOTHERFUCKER!?"
Evan shouted in the general direction of the toilet seat. He'd just returned from a night of boozing with the guys and his bladder certainly knew it. The shout, however, was intended for a small spider that made its home on the seat of Evan's toilet. The spider of course, said nothing, and Evan proceeded to unleash his full bladder at the tiny arachnid. The spider dodged, crawling to the top of the toilet and leaving the seat soaked in piss.
"Dammit!" Evan screamed. He zipped up his pants and lurched toward a bottle of air freshener that made its home on the sink. The spider saw Evan's plan and retreated behind the mirror. Evan filled the room with Ocean Breeze, leaving the Geneva Conventions in the dust. But the spider pressed on. He emerged from behind the mirror to see Evan violently coughing as his own weapon turned against him. It was time to attack.
The spider jumped to the floor, dodging disoriented stomps until he managed to cling to Evan's bare heel. Evan screamed in terror, shaking his leg in an attempt to shake the spider, but the spider did not fall. He held on for dear life, slowly ascending Evan's hairy leg.
In his inebriated panic, Evan fell back into the bathtub, knocking his head on the back splash. The shock and the alcohol combined caused him to vomit on himself. Evan leaned his head back on the now cracked tile of the wall.
"You win, you eight\-legged asshole." He admitted in defeat. The spider of course, said nothing as he left Evan's pant leg and crawled under the bathroom door in triumph, only to be eaten immediately by Evan's cat. | I’d been in this place so long that I could no longer remember what the outside world looked like. All that remained were blurry images of faces and the warm feeling of sunlight lingering from my dreams as I woke to another lightless day. The struggle hit me, as it did every time I woke – should I bother continuing with this desolate existence? The way out looked tempting, but I sighed and shook my head. I promised them I wouldn’t give up. Instead, I began my routine. The repetition was the only thing tying me to my sanity. First order of business, trade news my fellow captive.
“Good morning Alan. Think they’ll let us out today?”
The spider, of course, said nothing. |
The inspiration for this prompt was the lovely TheRabidFangirl! :) | [WP] As the latest employee in the world's most prestigious amusement park you are handed a list of rules all employee's must abide to. But it's filled with rather strange rules. What does: "There's only ever one of each mascot inside the park. Check for eyeholes." even mean? | *Rule 18: There is our one of each mascot in the park at the time. If you see a duplicate, check for eyeholes.*
"Oh, very funny." I say, "We've all heard of Abandoned by Disney, guys. Playing into the creepypastas may be a good marketing move, but it doesn't work on us.".
"No, I'm serious." Our manager says, "This is no creepypasta. All Sillyworld mascots do not have eyeholes. It completes the immersion."
"Then how do the see?" The teen next to me asks.
"The employees in mascots see using similar technology to rear view cameras in cars. It lets the employees see without ruining the magic for the guests." Our manager replies.
"You still haven't answered my question." I add. "Are the old suits haunted by murdered children or something?"
"No, no, no." The manager responds, "That was Appleday's problem. We've been having a problem with pranksters and teens breaking in and pretending to be employed by the park, only to mess with the guests and damage property. I'm sure we're all familiar with Logan Paul's *Sneaking into Sillyworld Prank! (Gone wrong)* video." He pronounces the parenthesis in his sentence.
"If you happen to see a mascot costume with eyeholes, call security immediately. We cannot afford another incident like that." Our manager says. Thank you, that'll be all."
My first week was relatively normal. Making food, giving directions, the usual. It was on Saturday that things heated up. I was giving visitors directions to the haunted airport, when I saw a Doctor Cantaloupe suit.
"Oh my God kids, It's Doctor Cantaloupe!" The mom exclaims. The kids shriek in glee.
"Yep!" I replied, "Doctor Cantaloupe is taking a break from his wacky experiments to visit... Wait."
I swear I've seen him today. Just a little bit ago. He was by the lemonade pool, right? At the other end of the park.
Crap.
I rush to the family as they approach the "mascot."
"Ma'am," I say, breathless, "I'm gonna have to ask you to not engage with the mascot."
"But why?" She asks, "He's my kids favorite character!"
"It's park business, ma'am." I explain, "please take these fast passes and call off your children."
She does. I approach the mascot.
I scan the mascot. Eyeholes. Oh boy.
"Listen bud," I say, "just take of the mask, and leave the premises. Then we can all go home ok."
"Never, bitch!" He shouts. Parents gasp in shock. Kisds giggle. Teens pull out their phones.
"Alright, pal, I'm gonna call security, so this is your last chance. Just go away, and everything will be fine." I add, pulling out my phone.
"Not on your Goddamn life!" He roars, "You stupid -".
I wasn't going to sit around and let him run our brand anymore, so I behaved like a rational adult.
And kneed him in the balls.
The recording of his outburst went viral. I'm no longer allowed on the premises. Oh well. I hear universal studios is looking for a security guard. | The first time I saw them I ran.
Eyes. Not like the others; eyes behind eyes, but eyes. Predatory with a sick hunger nestled deep inside them. It wasn’t just hunger in those eyes, no. There was joy, glee even. Like that of a ravenous mob of peasantry seated before a feast for the ages. Words cannot do justice to the evil seeded within those eyes. Even now years later as I try to pull the image from some represed repository of depravity I cannot recreate the utter lack of humanity in those eyes. From just a passing glance I knew no bounty would satisfy the hunger there. There was no end in sight. I haven’t seen since. I couldnt bear it. The mere idea of peering into those vacuous vertical pupils pushed me to the brink of sanity. There was no other recourse. It had to be done. I tried to tell them, it had to be done. They said I was crazy but it had to be done. Eye contact was excruciating even in momentary glances. It had to be done. They said that i’ll never see again. At least that means I wont have to see that emptiness again. It had to be done. |
The inspiration for this prompt was the lovely TheRabidFangirl! :) | [WP] As the latest employee in the world's most prestigious amusement park you are handed a list of rules all employee's must abide to. But it's filled with rather strange rules. What does: "There's only ever one of each mascot inside the park. Check for eyeholes." even mean? | I looked at the man who had handed me the piece of paper. His name-tag said Dave.
“Dave," I asked, looking down at the list again and frowning, “What does all of this even mean?”
Before Dave could answer, another man burst into the employee’s lounge. He immediately started shouting.
“You again!” He pointed right at Dave. “You scoundrel! You oxygen thief! Stop stealing my bloody name-tag!”
The man who was in front of me (Not-Dave) let out a yelp, and then scampered out the nearest window, dropping the name-tag on his way out.
The new fellow (Real-Dave) walked over to me. He picked up the name tag and shook his head.
“Sorry about that,” he said. “*I’m* Dave. That guy keeps breaking in and pretending to work here. Give you a list did he? He’s always doing that. Let me see it then.”
I blinked, and then gave him the piece of paper. He snorted.
“‘Check for eyeholes?’ What does that even mean? That guy’s batshit crazy. Anyway, your job is to clean out the puke from the roller-coaster carriages. Welcome to your new life.”
He screwed up the piece of paper and threw it out the window.
| *1. There is only one of each mascot in the entirety of the Park. They have eyeholes, pay attention to this.*
I glanced up, confused by these rules. The first one made no sense, the rest made just about as much sense. I knew about psychics and mages, apparently, they were designated by different borders and emblems on our name badges. Made sense to me, we needed to go in groups of no less than three at any given time, especially to interact with the mascots.
My trainers were two mages, four psych’s, fourteen different supervisors, and thirty-four different team leads. Seemed excessive, but whatever. I was sixteen, and that was the minimum age for the work done here. My friend Katydid recently disappeared, unable to sleep for days, then up and vanished and I seemed to be the only one to remember her. I was always the only one to remember. I was Lilypad and she was Katydid and we were best friends and I missed her. I so terribly missed her. I bit my lip as the handsome technomage, Julian, made eye contact with me.
He had taken a vested interest in me, seeing and smiling at me. He was tall, handsome, and very very very nerdy. His swarthy dark skin, still pale within his inside nerdiness, his handsome sparkling eyes, his thin, wire rimmed glasses, his thick hair. I wanted him to ask me out for a date, but he was nearly twenty and one, so much older than me.
Or group had designated mascots, three of them; dragon, unicorn, and phoenix. I was assigned further, the phoenix group, Julian’s real group. He ran the technology that was supposed to keep us all safe, the pyrotechnics and the warded microchips in our name badges. He had also programmed them to our time-clocks and check-in points. He was ever so clever. Truly, I was enamoured of him and his intellect. I couldn’t get enough of him. He felt amazing.
I shut my eyes for a moment, unable to keep them open fully. When I opened them, it was only him and I. The rule of three. Fuck. Shit. Damn. Oh no. The rules were there for a reason. He held my hand. “Lily? You fainted.” I was on the ground, looking up at the sky. I sighed; this had happened a lot, but a long time ago. “The others left to find you a medimage.” He was so calm and so sweet. Julian didn’t know about me, but that was alright. I had made it to sixteen this time. Sixteen.
Sixteen rules, rules that needed to be obeyed. “Julian, where is our third?” I demanded, confused.
“Shhh, Lily, you fainted,” he soothed me, his voice pulled at me, my mind slipped away.
*Wait, where were his eye holes?*
This is tied to both [this](https://www.reddit.com/r/TheMysticSandbox/comments/7ghz7h/dead_no_memories_tw_death_lily_1/) and [that](https://www.reddit.com/r/TheMysticSandbox/comments/7gi08x/joining_realitys_maintenance_crew/).
If you enjoyed this, please join me at [The Mystic Sandbox](https://www.reddit.com/r/TheMysticSandbox/). Note: NC-17 and NSFW under link |
The inspiration for this prompt was the lovely TheRabidFangirl! :) | [WP] As the latest employee in the world's most prestigious amusement park you are handed a list of rules all employee's must abide to. But it's filled with rather strange rules. What does: "There's only ever one of each mascot inside the park. Check for eyeholes." even mean? | *Rule 18: There is our one of each mascot in the park at the time. If you see a duplicate, check for eyeholes.*
"Oh, very funny." I say, "We've all heard of Abandoned by Disney, guys. Playing into the creepypastas may be a good marketing move, but it doesn't work on us.".
"No, I'm serious." Our manager says, "This is no creepypasta. All Sillyworld mascots do not have eyeholes. It completes the immersion."
"Then how do the see?" The teen next to me asks.
"The employees in mascots see using similar technology to rear view cameras in cars. It lets the employees see without ruining the magic for the guests." Our manager replies.
"You still haven't answered my question." I add. "Are the old suits haunted by murdered children or something?"
"No, no, no." The manager responds, "That was Appleday's problem. We've been having a problem with pranksters and teens breaking in and pretending to be employed by the park, only to mess with the guests and damage property. I'm sure we're all familiar with Logan Paul's *Sneaking into Sillyworld Prank! (Gone wrong)* video." He pronounces the parenthesis in his sentence.
"If you happen to see a mascot costume with eyeholes, call security immediately. We cannot afford another incident like that." Our manager says. Thank you, that'll be all."
My first week was relatively normal. Making food, giving directions, the usual. It was on Saturday that things heated up. I was giving visitors directions to the haunted airport, when I saw a Doctor Cantaloupe suit.
"Oh my God kids, It's Doctor Cantaloupe!" The mom exclaims. The kids shriek in glee.
"Yep!" I replied, "Doctor Cantaloupe is taking a break from his wacky experiments to visit... Wait."
I swear I've seen him today. Just a little bit ago. He was by the lemonade pool, right? At the other end of the park.
Crap.
I rush to the family as they approach the "mascot."
"Ma'am," I say, breathless, "I'm gonna have to ask you to not engage with the mascot."
"But why?" She asks, "He's my kids favorite character!"
"It's park business, ma'am." I explain, "please take these fast passes and call off your children."
She does. I approach the mascot.
I scan the mascot. Eyeholes. Oh boy.
"Listen bud," I say, "just take of the mask, and leave the premises. Then we can all go home ok."
"Never, bitch!" He shouts. Parents gasp in shock. Kisds giggle. Teens pull out their phones.
"Alright, pal, I'm gonna call security, so this is your last chance. Just go away, and everything will be fine." I add, pulling out my phone.
"Not on your Goddamn life!" He roars, "You stupid -".
I wasn't going to sit around and let him run our brand anymore, so I behaved like a rational adult.
And kneed him in the balls.
The recording of his outburst went viral. I'm no longer allowed on the premises. Oh well. I hear universal studios is looking for a security guard. | *1. There is only one of each mascot in the entirety of the Park. They have eyeholes, pay attention to this.*
I glanced up, confused by these rules. The first one made no sense, the rest made just about as much sense. I knew about psychics and mages, apparently, they were designated by different borders and emblems on our name badges. Made sense to me, we needed to go in groups of no less than three at any given time, especially to interact with the mascots.
My trainers were two mages, four psych’s, fourteen different supervisors, and thirty-four different team leads. Seemed excessive, but whatever. I was sixteen, and that was the minimum age for the work done here. My friend Katydid recently disappeared, unable to sleep for days, then up and vanished and I seemed to be the only one to remember her. I was always the only one to remember. I was Lilypad and she was Katydid and we were best friends and I missed her. I so terribly missed her. I bit my lip as the handsome technomage, Julian, made eye contact with me.
He had taken a vested interest in me, seeing and smiling at me. He was tall, handsome, and very very very nerdy. His swarthy dark skin, still pale within his inside nerdiness, his handsome sparkling eyes, his thin, wire rimmed glasses, his thick hair. I wanted him to ask me out for a date, but he was nearly twenty and one, so much older than me.
Or group had designated mascots, three of them; dragon, unicorn, and phoenix. I was assigned further, the phoenix group, Julian’s real group. He ran the technology that was supposed to keep us all safe, the pyrotechnics and the warded microchips in our name badges. He had also programmed them to our time-clocks and check-in points. He was ever so clever. Truly, I was enamoured of him and his intellect. I couldn’t get enough of him. He felt amazing.
I shut my eyes for a moment, unable to keep them open fully. When I opened them, it was only him and I. The rule of three. Fuck. Shit. Damn. Oh no. The rules were there for a reason. He held my hand. “Lily? You fainted.” I was on the ground, looking up at the sky. I sighed; this had happened a lot, but a long time ago. “The others left to find you a medimage.” He was so calm and so sweet. Julian didn’t know about me, but that was alright. I had made it to sixteen this time. Sixteen.
Sixteen rules, rules that needed to be obeyed. “Julian, where is our third?” I demanded, confused.
“Shhh, Lily, you fainted,” he soothed me, his voice pulled at me, my mind slipped away.
*Wait, where were his eye holes?*
This is tied to both [this](https://www.reddit.com/r/TheMysticSandbox/comments/7ghz7h/dead_no_memories_tw_death_lily_1/) and [that](https://www.reddit.com/r/TheMysticSandbox/comments/7gi08x/joining_realitys_maintenance_crew/).
If you enjoyed this, please join me at [The Mystic Sandbox](https://www.reddit.com/r/TheMysticSandbox/). Note: NC-17 and NSFW under link |
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