post_text stringlengths 0 10k | post_title stringlengths 8 313 | chosen stringlengths 1 39.5k | rejected stringlengths 1 13.8k |
|---|---|---|---|
[WP] You are the greatest Supervillain in the world and you've always wondered why the heroes yell out their attacks. Well, out of curiosity, you try it out with your weakest attack and suddenly break a hole through your evil lair. | There she stood, Virginia the Magnificent. I always wondered why heroes had to give themselves superfluous titles. "Marcos! I've spent weeks hunting you! I hereby place under arrest in the name of Heroism United, with the backing of the Columbia Accord, on charges of genocide, fraud, and grand theft! What do you have to say for yourself?"
Nothing. I mean, technically, Rhode Island was an act of genocide, but I did try to warn them that my intern accidentally spilled a few gallons of hydroflouric acid into the treatment plant. It was supposed to be an innocuous gene inhibitor, shutting down their melatonin for a while, but Andre was never very good with labels. The fraud was an outright lie, but heroes know little to nothing about legal roundabouts. "Virginia," I spoke aloud, trying vainly to hide my boredom, "what makes you think you can bring me in?"
"I don't think, Marcos, I know. My powers have grown a hundred fold since Aruba. And now, you will face the consequences of your actions!" She rushed ahead, her mind focused on whatever ability she would summon. "Heiraikos!" A blast of energy erupted from the heroine's extended arm. I let it come, enjoying the first seconds of the fight.
The blast hit solidly, square in the middle of my torso. It was cold. I hate cold. I responded in kind, silently willing into existence a wall of physical shadowstuff. It was a simple feat, but tactically sound. I followed it up with a simple illusion, creating a half dozen copies of myself.
"Your tricks won't stop me, villain!" I could hear the Magnificent cry, but the shadowstuff blocked the view completely. Two of my doubles dashed through the wall, two more floated above, into the rafters of the warehouse I kept for research. The final two accompanied me into the small observatory that once was a foreman's office.
"You see, Virginia," my voice echoed through the speaker system, "for all your flash and effort, you simply cannot fathom the harsh truth." A flip of a switch turned the warehouse lights on, banishing the shadow wall and blinding the heroine for a few seconds. Admirably, she did not let that stop her. "Touch of Hod!" She yelled and palmed the floor, rime and hoarfrost erupted around her, which dissipated two of my illusions. She was good, that much was certain. "I'll find you if I have to freeze out this entire block, Marcos!"
"I doubt that," one of my floating doubles shot back. I was already gone, having slipped down the fire escape after switching on the lights. Outside, I could still here her firing off ability after ability, shouting each move like some old kung fu film. This. This piqued my interest.
Why? Every hero announces their attack long beforehand, telegraphing their most powerful attacks, giving any opponent the chance to dodge, parry, or counterattack. It's so clearly counterintuitive. Is it their pride? Some disfigured sense of honor? I can't count the times I've asked myself this while cleaning up one failed assassination attempt after another.
"Virginia, does that actually help you?" I asked through one of my remaining clones. "Does that do anything other than let me know exactly what you're attempting?"
"As a matter fact, it does. Not that it makes a difference for you, but it lets me put more emotion into my attacks." She sounded winded, her breaths coming heavily, frost escaping with each gasp. "Arctic gale!" She clamored as a fierce wind whipped about the interior of the warehouse, freezing against solid objects, and flinging anything not secured.
"Well, then," I muttered, "perhaps it's time I try. Crushing despair!" Through my clone's eyes I targeted her, putting more emotion into the attack than I had my last two relationships. As the gravity around her warped, her body simply collapsed. One shaking sob escaped her lips before the full force of the spell hit her, crushing her form into little more than a well tailored ball. "That's not supposed to happen. That's not supposed to happen at all." The spell itself was meant to drain a target's emotions, effectively taking away their passion to do anything, but evidently with the added emphasis, took things to a metaphysical extreme. Interesting. | "Smallfly, witness this power!"
Smallfly, who, despite his name, had been genetically engineered to be twenty times larger and smarter than an average fly, buzzed a bit into his translator.
*I see it, Dr. Growth.*
"This is my true power, locked away until after my greatest triumph! I have appeased the gods, Smallfly! they have granted a boon to signal their faith in my plans!"
*No, I don't think so.*
"How dare you doubt my words, minion!"
Dr. Growth spun and glared at his minion from the middle of the giant hole in his laboratory wall. Bits of concrete and plaster still cracked and fell down behind him as he descended the rubble pile. His face and lab coat were covered in debris and dust swirled around him. His fist, which had grown to three times it's normal size to deliver that punch, slowly deflated as he climbed down the pile of debris to where Smallfly sat on his special perch/nightlight between the tesla coil and the children's chemistry set.
"I have unlocked the secret to true domination!"
*You just shouted 'Big Fist Punch' really loudly.*
"And my righteous strike decimated all before me with the greatest of strength!" Dr. Growth lifted his still-distorted hand and held it up like a trophy. "I will conquer all on the name of shouting loudly!"
*Nope.*
"Minion, doubt me no further or I will show you my ultimate power! The fury of the gods will rain upon you, and I will be forced to grow a new subject!"
*Alright, fine.* Smallfly buzzed and lifted off of his perch, hovering slightly above Dr. Growth's line of sight. *You're right. You're Big Fist Punch completely smashed that wall... inwards... toward you.*
"That is right... er...."
Dr. Growth turned around.
He saw the silhouette of a big, burly man appear in the dusty cloud. He watched as a clenched fist was raised.
"HANDSOME HERO SMASH!"
| |
[WP] You are the greatest Supervillain in the world and you've always wondered why the heroes yell out their attacks. Well, out of curiosity, you try it out with your weakest attack and suddenly break a hole through your evil lair. | Before Swifty entered the house, he peeked inside to make sure nobody would see his bloodied lips and blackened eyes. It seemed like Master had not yet returned from his daily stroll, so he ventured past the door, scurrying for the sink as quickly as his limp would allow.
"Swifty, come over here." a displeased voice called from the other end of the house. Swifty halted and hung his head. He already knew what was going to happen and he dreaded it. "I said come here at this moment, are your ears mere decorations?"
Swifty stepped inside the Master's study. Master turned around and looked every bit as displeased as his voice sounded. He always put up a stern face and made a point about staying quiet. "Went around fighting again, I see." Master observed the boy's wounds with disgust. "This is not the first time you have disappointed me, nor will it be the last, I believe."
"B.. but Master!" Swifty lifted his eyes, "I din... do it! It's Ac...cademy kids! Th... they shouted at me..."
"Hush." said the Master, "Sit down and copy Chapter 5, Graph 19 from Allison's Rune Codex fifty times. I want it done by dinner, which, by the way, you will forfeit as a gesture of remorse for being late and breaking your speech allowance."
Swfity obeyed. What else could he do? ARC 5-9 was a complicated protection charm that worked marvels against epistaxis and vertigo. Unfortunately, it would normally take an apprentice the whole afternoon just to make one copy of the rune; fortunately, Swifty knew the charm by heart and he excels at copying spells and runes. He was given the name Swifty by his Master, for his mind was swift to learn and his fingers were swift to carry out tasks.
As Swifty started copying the rune, a few drops of tear rolled off his nose, and fell onto the parchment. It's always those Academy apprentices' fault. Every time he ran errands for Master, he had to go past the Academy. There were always some apprentices outside, speaking Words as a pastime. He'd hear these really "cool" attacks and moves (to the ears of a 12-year-old) like "Flare Blast!" "Enduring Shock!" "Whirlwind Blades!" and so on. And then he would see explosions and eletric fields and literally a whirlwind of blades wielded by an apprentice who had a bright future ahead.
Dueling between apprentices was strictly prohibited by the Academy, so naturally they looked for some target to practice on. They found Swifty. Whenever they had the chance to stop him, they'd come up with the meanest words like "you're such a Pig, I hope you Suffocate on your own Spit." Then they'd laugh as Swifty rolled around in the dirt, oinking against his will, unable to breathe. He couldn't talk back -his speech impediment would only make it worse. "Oh, what's he trying to say? Is your throat Itching?" Then he'd have this terrible itch inside his trachea that couldn't be soothed by scratching. So he shut up, took it until they were bored, and returned to his businesses.
Master had always made it clear that he should not pronounce any Words. You don't have it in you, he said. You can't even talk like a dirty peasant, he said. Anything you say comes out as gibberish and nonsense, it's better if you shut your mouth and keep to the books. And so he did. He learned fast through reading, and his manuscript was beautiful and speedy. Master discovered his talent as a scribe, and put him to work mercilessly. It is for your own good, he said. This is the only somewhat worthwhile thing you can do without making a hopeless mess.
As he worked on the 13th copy, a phrase caught Swfity's attention. Pierce. Swifty remembered this word. One of the kids said to him less than an hour ago: "Your Lips are Pierced." and that's how he got the bloodied lip. The rune said something about Ceasing the Pierce inside one's Nose. Such a distasteful word, Swifty thought. But out of mere curiosity, he uttered under his breathe without thinking: "Pierce."
Suddenly, a shrill sound shot from Swifty's desk. Swifty started and looked down. The parchment now had a clear puncture. He removed the paper to reveal a hole in his desk. He crawled under the table, and saw a another hole on the marble tile.
That night, when Master called Swifty into the living room, Swift was ready to speak the Word. He was shaking with excitement and anxiety, and found them difficult to hold back. What will happen to him afterwards? the question crossed his mind, but he hardly cared. Revenge was so close, he could taste it with his parched tongue.
There was another person in the room, but all Swifty could see was that Master had his back turned against him. If there was a moment to say it, the moment was now. Swifty opened his mouth, but was abruptly cut off by Master. "Swifty, I want you to meet Mrs. Letterson. Mrs. Letterson is an expert in archaic speeches. You will be making manuscripts for her studies from now on."
Swifty froze. He had seen a whole lot of Violetta Letterson's all over his Master's study. Mrs. Letterson was one of the most prestigious authorities when it came to spell constructing. Her name appeared on many books that were considered ahead of their time in this field.
"Dear Violetta, I assure you, Swifty here may sound dumb as a Rock, but his nimble little fingers will not disappoint you. I know your previous assistants have... not been so successful, but this one, he is different."
Master put an intentional emphasis on the word "Rock". Swifty felt a forceful smile creeping onto his face. Dumb as a rock indeed, as if Swifty couldn't comprehend what the bag of gold on the table meant. He was sold to Mrs. Letterson, like a commodity. Master never cared about him, even when he taught Swifty how to read. Swifty saw the same, emtionless look inside Mrs. Letterson's eyes when she looked at him. He would be exploited, harder than ever, by this haughty woman. Swift felt the weight of the Word inside his mouth, heavier than ever. All these years, suppressed hatred now boiled inside his heart and bubbled behind his lips. He felt like he held the Word inside his mouth for an eternity, while listening to Mrs. Letterson speak: "I do have high expectations for this one, Ernest. He should be an excellent addition to my studies. Still, I hope you understand that I have agreed to pay more than I expected to, and I look forward to get my money's worth." Her voice seemed to came from far, far away.
Somehow, some way, Swifty managed to swallow the Word. Instead, he smiled and headed back to the study.
Later on, supervillain Labia Clausa would recall this moment as "the hardest moment in my life." But at the same time, he also called it "the greatest lesson I've learned". "Words have power." he said in an unexpected interview, "But modern heroes don't recognize that power. They shout out their attacks because it takes little effort, and sounds very... awesome. And they can get popular by doing that, which is fine with me. A true scholar, however, studies the words -all of their meanings, components, origins and derivatives. The mastery of language is what grants me true advantage."
"Still," he added after a pause, "I have met a few heroes that rivals my mastery of language. And yet, here I am, standing over their graves." He leaned in closer to the camera tightly clutched by the hands of a corpse. "I'll let you in with a little secret. On that day, I did not only discover the power of words. I discovered the power of silence." With that, he crushed the camera. | "Smallfly, witness this power!"
Smallfly, who, despite his name, had been genetically engineered to be twenty times larger and smarter than an average fly, buzzed a bit into his translator.
*I see it, Dr. Growth.*
"This is my true power, locked away until after my greatest triumph! I have appeased the gods, Smallfly! they have granted a boon to signal their faith in my plans!"
*No, I don't think so.*
"How dare you doubt my words, minion!"
Dr. Growth spun and glared at his minion from the middle of the giant hole in his laboratory wall. Bits of concrete and plaster still cracked and fell down behind him as he descended the rubble pile. His face and lab coat were covered in debris and dust swirled around him. His fist, which had grown to three times it's normal size to deliver that punch, slowly deflated as he climbed down the pile of debris to where Smallfly sat on his special perch/nightlight between the tesla coil and the children's chemistry set.
"I have unlocked the secret to true domination!"
*You just shouted 'Big Fist Punch' really loudly.*
"And my righteous strike decimated all before me with the greatest of strength!" Dr. Growth lifted his still-distorted hand and held it up like a trophy. "I will conquer all on the name of shouting loudly!"
*Nope.*
"Minion, doubt me no further or I will show you my ultimate power! The fury of the gods will rain upon you, and I will be forced to grow a new subject!"
*Alright, fine.* Smallfly buzzed and lifted off of his perch, hovering slightly above Dr. Growth's line of sight. *You're right. You're Big Fist Punch completely smashed that wall... inwards... toward you.*
"That is right... er...."
Dr. Growth turned around.
He saw the silhouette of a big, burly man appear in the dusty cloud. He watched as a clenched fist was raised.
"HANDSOME HERO SMASH!"
| |
[WP] You are the greatest Supervillain in the world and you've always wondered why the heroes yell out their attacks. Well, out of curiosity, you try it out with your weakest attack and suddenly break a hole through your evil lair. | I was pooping when it happened.
I hadn't even realized it would qualify as an attack as I tried to shake the booger off, but a random urge came over me as my mucus clung steadfast to my finger. "Pick, roll and flick!" I shouted then flicked the tiny snot ball towards the trash can beside the toilet.
It took me several minutes to process what happened next as bits of plaster continued to crumble and dust gently fell from the walls. By the scorch marks on the ground, my booger had evidently instantly accelerated to a significant fraction of the speed of light, the indescribable force of this instantly transforming the thing into a somehow cohesive ball of plasma. Newton's laws still evidently applied as the blowback from the flick, equal and opposite, was enough to ignite the air in front of me.
The booger, now moving at a relativistic velocity, impacted first my marble bathroom counter, which instantly shattered, then the mirror, which also shattered, then the wall behind it through which it either tore through or vaporized a hole about 4 feet across. Leaning over on the toilet I could see it had continued on, through several more plaster walls, 6 feet of reinforced concrete and roughly 5 inches of the solid steel that encased my fortress. I looked out through the hole and saw blue sky outside. I guessed my booger had well exceeded escape velocity and was now hurtling through space. I would find out later that my "attack" had actually registered as a seismic event and had been detectable as far away as California.
But in the meantime there I was, still stuck on the John with unfinished business. As I felt a rumble in my tummy I leaned back and considered the implications. I was already incredibly dangerous, a full force punch could level a city block. I thought for a moment about what would happen if I shouted as I performed my signature Wave Kick. "Could you imagine?" I said to no one with a slight chuckle. "I mean, holy shit!"
A fraction of a second later I realized the terrible consequences of my word choice. | "Smallfly, witness this power!"
Smallfly, who, despite his name, had been genetically engineered to be twenty times larger and smarter than an average fly, buzzed a bit into his translator.
*I see it, Dr. Growth.*
"This is my true power, locked away until after my greatest triumph! I have appeased the gods, Smallfly! they have granted a boon to signal their faith in my plans!"
*No, I don't think so.*
"How dare you doubt my words, minion!"
Dr. Growth spun and glared at his minion from the middle of the giant hole in his laboratory wall. Bits of concrete and plaster still cracked and fell down behind him as he descended the rubble pile. His face and lab coat were covered in debris and dust swirled around him. His fist, which had grown to three times it's normal size to deliver that punch, slowly deflated as he climbed down the pile of debris to where Smallfly sat on his special perch/nightlight between the tesla coil and the children's chemistry set.
"I have unlocked the secret to true domination!"
*You just shouted 'Big Fist Punch' really loudly.*
"And my righteous strike decimated all before me with the greatest of strength!" Dr. Growth lifted his still-distorted hand and held it up like a trophy. "I will conquer all on the name of shouting loudly!"
*Nope.*
"Minion, doubt me no further or I will show you my ultimate power! The fury of the gods will rain upon you, and I will be forced to grow a new subject!"
*Alright, fine.* Smallfly buzzed and lifted off of his perch, hovering slightly above Dr. Growth's line of sight. *You're right. You're Big Fist Punch completely smashed that wall... inwards... toward you.*
"That is right... er...."
Dr. Growth turned around.
He saw the silhouette of a big, burly man appear in the dusty cloud. He watched as a clenched fist was raised.
"HANDSOME HERO SMASH!"
| |
[WP] You are the greatest Supervillain in the world and you've always wondered why the heroes yell out their attacks. Well, out of curiosity, you try it out with your weakest attack and suddenly break a hole through your evil lair. | He woke up in the middle of an intersection. Super strength or not, a forty story fall still hurts like hell.
Mindstorm sat up slowly, dusting off his red cape and taking stock of the situation. He couldn't have been out long. Sirens could be heard in the distance but no police were in sight. Surely one of the pedestrians had alerted the world by now -- his uniform was great for making a dramatic entrance, but it did tend to stick out in a crowd.
Every Hero in the city must have his location by now, and here he was, prone in an asphalt crater between Broadway and ninth. A cross street that he'd kept secret for years. Long had the champions of this city searched for his lair in sewers and warehouses, but none had thought to investigate a supposedly-empty block of office space downtown.
He looked up. *The secret's out*, Mindstorm thought with frustration. Hadn't he developed weapons that brought world leaders to their knees? Held governments for ransom, teleported in and out of Fort Knox on a whim, hijacked space shuttles just because he could? In that 40th story hideaway he had all weapons that the world's brightest minds couldn't fathom in their most twisted nightmares.
And here he was, unarmed on his back in the street, with half the city's muscle bearing down.
Still, the discovery that led to his situation might be his salvation. It wasn't supposed to do anything, wasn't a real experiment. Mindstorm had felt idiotic has he threw a punch while shouting the word. He was a man of science, not some street brawler.
A thud smacked into the pavement behind him. When you've been in as many superfights as he had, you recognize the sound of a flyer making a hard landing. "Well, well, well. Mindstorm. And without your toys I see."
Mindstorm turned and groaned. Highlight wasn't even one of the stronger Heroes this city had to offer. He was a second rate flyer with a couple budget tricks. This was embarrassing -- wasn't Mindstorm the greatest villain the world had seen in decades? And he was going to be taken down by this amateur?
"It's over Mindstorm. Just come quietly." Highlight strode forward confidently. Despite his words, he was clearly hoping for a fight.
*Well, let's give it to him.*
Highlight saw the evil genius flexing his right hand. The Hero took a quick step back. His eyes began to glow in their trademark yellow as he shouted, "LI--"
But he never got the word out. In the half second it took Highlight to react, Mindstorm had already leapt and began to throw a wild right hook. Just before contact, the villain shouted, "HAYMAKER!"
Glass shattered for a hundred feet in every direction. The deafening blast of it seemed delayed to everyone who saw the blow, as if the galactic power behind that punch refused to release the sound immediately. The force of the blow carried Mindstorm forward another twenty yards, just like it had back in his lair.
But no one was watching the villain. Highlight was flying, up, up and away, and not under his own power. His body was limp, his head lolled to one side as he soared down the street. He didn't even begin to descend until already a quarter mile away, eventually landing on top of a Jetta some eight blocks down the wide road.
Mindstorm, flushed with rage and excitement, looked around. He could see a few other Heroes flying towards him in the distance. But no... not flying. Floating. Anyone who had seen what just happened to Highlight had pulled up short. When the smartest man alive can throw a punch harder than all the city's Heroes combined, you don't rush in.
*Oh, this is going to be a good day.*
\--------------------
49/365
one story per day for a year. read them all at [r/babyshoesalesman](https://www.reddit.com/r/babyshoesalesman)
\--------------------- | "Smallfly, witness this power!"
Smallfly, who, despite his name, had been genetically engineered to be twenty times larger and smarter than an average fly, buzzed a bit into his translator.
*I see it, Dr. Growth.*
"This is my true power, locked away until after my greatest triumph! I have appeased the gods, Smallfly! they have granted a boon to signal their faith in my plans!"
*No, I don't think so.*
"How dare you doubt my words, minion!"
Dr. Growth spun and glared at his minion from the middle of the giant hole in his laboratory wall. Bits of concrete and plaster still cracked and fell down behind him as he descended the rubble pile. His face and lab coat were covered in debris and dust swirled around him. His fist, which had grown to three times it's normal size to deliver that punch, slowly deflated as he climbed down the pile of debris to where Smallfly sat on his special perch/nightlight between the tesla coil and the children's chemistry set.
"I have unlocked the secret to true domination!"
*You just shouted 'Big Fist Punch' really loudly.*
"And my righteous strike decimated all before me with the greatest of strength!" Dr. Growth lifted his still-distorted hand and held it up like a trophy. "I will conquer all on the name of shouting loudly!"
*Nope.*
"Minion, doubt me no further or I will show you my ultimate power! The fury of the gods will rain upon you, and I will be forced to grow a new subject!"
*Alright, fine.* Smallfly buzzed and lifted off of his perch, hovering slightly above Dr. Growth's line of sight. *You're right. You're Big Fist Punch completely smashed that wall... inwards... toward you.*
"That is right... er...."
Dr. Growth turned around.
He saw the silhouette of a big, burly man appear in the dusty cloud. He watched as a clenched fist was raised.
"HANDSOME HERO SMASH!"
| |
[WP] You are the greatest Supervillain in the world and you've always wondered why the heroes yell out their attacks. Well, out of curiosity, you try it out with your weakest attack and suddenly break a hole through your evil lair. | I was pooping when it happened.
I hadn't even realized it would qualify as an attack as I tried to shake the booger off, but a random urge came over me as my mucus clung steadfast to my finger. "Pick, roll and flick!" I shouted then flicked the tiny snot ball towards the trash can beside the toilet.
It took me several minutes to process what happened next as bits of plaster continued to crumble and dust gently fell from the walls. By the scorch marks on the ground, my booger had evidently instantly accelerated to a significant fraction of the speed of light, the indescribable force of this instantly transforming the thing into a somehow cohesive ball of plasma. Newton's laws still evidently applied as the blowback from the flick, equal and opposite, was enough to ignite the air in front of me.
The booger, now moving at a relativistic velocity, impacted first my marble bathroom counter, which instantly shattered, then the mirror, which also shattered, then the wall behind it through which it either tore through or vaporized a hole about 4 feet across. Leaning over on the toilet I could see it had continued on, through several more plaster walls, 6 feet of reinforced concrete and roughly 5 inches of the solid steel that encased my fortress. I looked out through the hole and saw blue sky outside. I guessed my booger had well exceeded escape velocity and was now hurtling through space. I would find out later that my "attack" had actually registered as a seismic event and had been detectable as far away as California.
But in the meantime there I was, still stuck on the John with unfinished business. As I felt a rumble in my tummy I leaned back and considered the implications. I was already incredibly dangerous, a full force punch could level a city block. I thought for a moment about what would happen if I shouted as I performed my signature Wave Kick. "Could you imagine?" I said to no one with a slight chuckle. "I mean, holy shit!"
A fraction of a second later I realized the terrible consequences of my word choice. | Before Swifty entered the house, he peeked inside to make sure nobody would see his bloodied lips and blackened eyes. It seemed like Master had not yet returned from his daily stroll, so he ventured past the door, scurrying for the sink as quickly as his limp would allow.
"Swifty, come over here." a displeased voice called from the other end of the house. Swifty halted and hung his head. He already knew what was going to happen and he dreaded it. "I said come here at this moment, are your ears mere decorations?"
Swifty stepped inside the Master's study. Master turned around and looked every bit as displeased as his voice sounded. He always put up a stern face and made a point about staying quiet. "Went around fighting again, I see." Master observed the boy's wounds with disgust. "This is not the first time you have disappointed me, nor will it be the last, I believe."
"B.. but Master!" Swifty lifted his eyes, "I din... do it! It's Ac...cademy kids! Th... they shouted at me..."
"Hush." said the Master, "Sit down and copy Chapter 5, Graph 19 from Allison's Rune Codex fifty times. I want it done by dinner, which, by the way, you will forfeit as a gesture of remorse for being late and breaking your speech allowance."
Swfity obeyed. What else could he do? ARC 5-9 was a complicated protection charm that worked marvels against epistaxis and vertigo. Unfortunately, it would normally take an apprentice the whole afternoon just to make one copy of the rune; fortunately, Swifty knew the charm by heart and he excels at copying spells and runes. He was given the name Swifty by his Master, for his mind was swift to learn and his fingers were swift to carry out tasks.
As Swifty started copying the rune, a few drops of tear rolled off his nose, and fell onto the parchment. It's always those Academy apprentices' fault. Every time he ran errands for Master, he had to go past the Academy. There were always some apprentices outside, speaking Words as a pastime. He'd hear these really "cool" attacks and moves (to the ears of a 12-year-old) like "Flare Blast!" "Enduring Shock!" "Whirlwind Blades!" and so on. And then he would see explosions and eletric fields and literally a whirlwind of blades wielded by an apprentice who had a bright future ahead.
Dueling between apprentices was strictly prohibited by the Academy, so naturally they looked for some target to practice on. They found Swifty. Whenever they had the chance to stop him, they'd come up with the meanest words like "you're such a Pig, I hope you Suffocate on your own Spit." Then they'd laugh as Swifty rolled around in the dirt, oinking against his will, unable to breathe. He couldn't talk back -his speech impediment would only make it worse. "Oh, what's he trying to say? Is your throat Itching?" Then he'd have this terrible itch inside his trachea that couldn't be soothed by scratching. So he shut up, took it until they were bored, and returned to his businesses.
Master had always made it clear that he should not pronounce any Words. You don't have it in you, he said. You can't even talk like a dirty peasant, he said. Anything you say comes out as gibberish and nonsense, it's better if you shut your mouth and keep to the books. And so he did. He learned fast through reading, and his manuscript was beautiful and speedy. Master discovered his talent as a scribe, and put him to work mercilessly. It is for your own good, he said. This is the only somewhat worthwhile thing you can do without making a hopeless mess.
As he worked on the 13th copy, a phrase caught Swfity's attention. Pierce. Swifty remembered this word. One of the kids said to him less than an hour ago: "Your Lips are Pierced." and that's how he got the bloodied lip. The rune said something about Ceasing the Pierce inside one's Nose. Such a distasteful word, Swifty thought. But out of mere curiosity, he uttered under his breathe without thinking: "Pierce."
Suddenly, a shrill sound shot from Swifty's desk. Swifty started and looked down. The parchment now had a clear puncture. He removed the paper to reveal a hole in his desk. He crawled under the table, and saw a another hole on the marble tile.
That night, when Master called Swifty into the living room, Swift was ready to speak the Word. He was shaking with excitement and anxiety, and found them difficult to hold back. What will happen to him afterwards? the question crossed his mind, but he hardly cared. Revenge was so close, he could taste it with his parched tongue.
There was another person in the room, but all Swifty could see was that Master had his back turned against him. If there was a moment to say it, the moment was now. Swifty opened his mouth, but was abruptly cut off by Master. "Swifty, I want you to meet Mrs. Letterson. Mrs. Letterson is an expert in archaic speeches. You will be making manuscripts for her studies from now on."
Swifty froze. He had seen a whole lot of Violetta Letterson's all over his Master's study. Mrs. Letterson was one of the most prestigious authorities when it came to spell constructing. Her name appeared on many books that were considered ahead of their time in this field.
"Dear Violetta, I assure you, Swifty here may sound dumb as a Rock, but his nimble little fingers will not disappoint you. I know your previous assistants have... not been so successful, but this one, he is different."
Master put an intentional emphasis on the word "Rock". Swifty felt a forceful smile creeping onto his face. Dumb as a rock indeed, as if Swifty couldn't comprehend what the bag of gold on the table meant. He was sold to Mrs. Letterson, like a commodity. Master never cared about him, even when he taught Swifty how to read. Swifty saw the same, emtionless look inside Mrs. Letterson's eyes when she looked at him. He would be exploited, harder than ever, by this haughty woman. Swift felt the weight of the Word inside his mouth, heavier than ever. All these years, suppressed hatred now boiled inside his heart and bubbled behind his lips. He felt like he held the Word inside his mouth for an eternity, while listening to Mrs. Letterson speak: "I do have high expectations for this one, Ernest. He should be an excellent addition to my studies. Still, I hope you understand that I have agreed to pay more than I expected to, and I look forward to get my money's worth." Her voice seemed to came from far, far away.
Somehow, some way, Swifty managed to swallow the Word. Instead, he smiled and headed back to the study.
Later on, supervillain Labia Clausa would recall this moment as "the hardest moment in my life." But at the same time, he also called it "the greatest lesson I've learned". "Words have power." he said in an unexpected interview, "But modern heroes don't recognize that power. They shout out their attacks because it takes little effort, and sounds very... awesome. And they can get popular by doing that, which is fine with me. A true scholar, however, studies the words -all of their meanings, components, origins and derivatives. The mastery of language is what grants me true advantage."
"Still," he added after a pause, "I have met a few heroes that rivals my mastery of language. And yet, here I am, standing over their graves." He leaned in closer to the camera tightly clutched by the hands of a corpse. "I'll let you in with a little secret. On that day, I did not only discover the power of words. I discovered the power of silence." With that, he crushed the camera. | |
[WP] You've done it, you have found the cure for cancer, you are humanity's saviour. Sadly you pass away just weeks after the discovery. Expecting Heaven you are shocked when you awake to a fiery landscape as the truth dawns on you. You are in Hell and Satan is eager to shake your hand. | "Welcome home." Satan telescoped his hand in my direction with a look of joyful recognition.
Hell wasn't at all what I imagined, nor was Satan himself. It reminded me a lot of Florida in the summer, only with more fire. He reminded me a lot of Corbin Bernsen. If Corbin Bernsen were adorned with goat hooves and red skin. Not one to be rude, I extended my hand toward the fallen angel in kind. As I surveyed the landscape I couldn't shake a sense of familiarity with this place. With this being.
"Why do I know this place?" I muttered aloud, mostly to myself.
"Oh, it will all come back to you very soon, my friend." Satan's smile extended the width of his face as he placed his right hand upon my shoulder, gesturing to what I can only describe as a pier on the edge of a fiery lake off in the distance with his left. "Right this way."
Unsure of what else to do, I walked with the lord of darkness toward the fiery abyss. He had a certain sense of modesty to his gait. Arms crossed behind his back, looking at the ground as he strolled casually through his dominion, the devil spoke naught, as if nervously awaiting my cue to strike up a conversation. But what does one say to a cordial Lucifer upon arriving in Hell? "Thanks for the smooth fall down the deep, dark pit of humanity?" We arrived upon the edge of the slough and turned toward the pier, our leisurely stroll now continuing parallel to its bank.
I slowly began to realize that I wasn't actually SURPRISED to be in Hell. I didn't feel a sense of opposition toward my fate despite my certainty that Heaven awaited my arrival upon my earthly departure. I wasn't exactly happy about it, but entirely accepting. We continued to walk in silence toward the pier. Occassionally Satan would look at me and smile, as if expecting me to make the first move after a good-but-not-great first date. I looked back at him, then at my surroundings, then back at him, then at the pier, then the sky. I should be freaked out. I KNOW I should be. So why am I not?
Slowly I began to realize that he was not leading me to the pier, but I leading him. I knew where the brimstone rocks I'd need to step over would be on the bank. I knew that there were approximately 75 more steps to the pier. I knew that the pier itself would be creaky and would sway upon the liquid flame in which is floated. But why? I strained my brain to remember what I'd forgotten.
"I know this place, don't I?"
Satan didn't speak, replying with a subtle nod and sheepish grin.
"I've been here before? You and I. . .we've met?"
He raised his eyebrows and rotated a single finger in the air as if to gesture me down the train of thought I was taking. In an instant a rush of recognition flooded my entire being. It WAS Florida. Suddenly I was 20 years younger, wearing my Florida Gulf Coast University T Shirt as I walked the shoreline with my old university advisor. Who looked almost exactly like Corbin Bernsen. The fiery landscape subsided into the earth and water. The red sky retreated to one of blue and white, the light provided by the sun rather than the dull glow of flame, the beach the color of sand. I was holding my cell phone in my left hand. I remembered everything. This was the first fearful moment of my afterlife.
As soon as I lifted the phone to my ear, I knew exactly what I was about to hear. My mother's voice telling me that dad had passed. I hadn't even known he was ill. Liver cancer. Mom sounded angry, talked about how he wasn't the man that any of us thought he was, about how he was more dedicated to the bottle than he ever was to her and how it cost him everything. How she knew he'd rot in hell for keeping his alcoholism a secret. In that instant I thought maybe she was right. Then Professor Corbin Bersen impersonator walked up.
He placed his right hand upon my shoulder, gesturing to a pier on the edge of the lake off in the distance with his left. We walked and talked for what felt like forever. He had such a calming and reassuring presence. He talked to me about using the anguish I felt about my father, whom I'd always favored, and the anger I felt toward my mother for smearing his good name, to do something good. He asked what I'd be willing to do to ensure that no son's father met a similar fate, and what I'd do if I knew I could save my father's soul. I quietly replied, the pain sitting upon my quivering lip, "anything."
In a flash the fire returned and Florida disappeared completely. The Devil still looked like Corbin Bernesen.
"Anything," He spoke. "Your words, my boy. Not mine."
This was the second fearful moment of my afterlife.
He'd held up at least half of his end of the bargain. I'd cured cancer on Earth. No son's father would meet a similar fate. There was only one thing left to verify before I hopped into the lake with the rest of the lost souls, destined to spend eternity among them.
"And my dad? Did he make it Heaven?"
The devil smiled, placed his hand on my shoulder, and gave me a shove off the edge of the pier while replying "Never met the guy." | I close my eyes for the last time. The world outside goes dark, then there is brightness shining through my eyelids.
I open my eyes, half believing I will see the light of paradise, Saint Peter waiting to give me a high five.
Instead, I am staring at some sort of demented altar, with long spikes emerging up from the far side, the two at the farthest end coming towards me, twirled like gazelle horns. As my eyes adjust to the fire surrounding it, I realize it is a throne.
*"Majestic, isn't it?"* I hear a hissing whisper behind me, and turn.
He doesn't look as advertised, but there is no mistaking: It's Satan himself, covered in red scales. His arms are like snakes, with torn off flesh like cuffs of his shirt, hands made of their mangled and smashed skulls.
*"Well?"* He says, gesturing for me to look at the throne. My eyes adjust more to the fire than I think they should be able to, and I realize it only looked bad because of the flames. It is gold, and clearly fit for a benevolent monarch- though I doubt any have ever sat on it.
I shake my head to end my reverie, and voice my initial question, explaining who exactly I was in life: A savior of men, a genius, and a philanthropist.
*"Oh, yes, you certainly were a good man, weren't you?"*
"Exactly!" I exclaim, "So this *must* be some sort of mistake..."
*"Oh, I most certainly agree... so, come with me. A man lived as a savior deserves to share paradise's shores."*
I nod.
*"And, after all you've done so, so much work, you* deserve *a reward."*
I nod again, glad he understands, though perplexed by his kindness and helpfulness.
*"Yesssss... You deserve rest, to retire from the stress of being a savior and live as just one more saved human in a whole harvest of such..."*
I stop in my tracks, "Just one more..."
*"Oh, but of course... They already have a true Savior up there... all the saved live as equals in honor and majesty."*
"Oh, yes, of course..."
*"Oh, this distresses you?"*
"I..." I'm not sure what to say.
*"Believe it or not, I agree... Once, I too, was a savior, asked to be a servant to mere children, and forsake my glory."*
"And... what did you do?"
*"Better to rule in Hell than serve in Heaven."*
"I..."
I take a careful moment to make sure I want to ask my next question.
"Is that an option?"
The Devil smiles and nods.
*"They can worship you. They all owe you everything."*
"Yes... but what of my torture? My damnation?"
*"Oh, that little pain? Is it not a small sum to be man's merciful savior? Here is a secret: I have been searching for a new falsehood, for they grow more Abrahamic each day. But you are even better, aren't you? Not a falsehood, nor a forefather with little to show by way of blessing."*
"Yes, that's right... I am their true Savior."
*Than by all means, sir... take your seat."*
I turn, and walk towards that glorious chair. | |
[WP] You've done it, you have found the cure for cancer, you are humanity's saviour. Sadly you pass away just weeks after the discovery. Expecting Heaven you are shocked when you awake to a fiery landscape as the truth dawns on you. You are in Hell and Satan is eager to shake your hand. | It wasn’t possible. I didn’t belong *here*. I was a good man, I wanted to help people. I never did it for fame or glory, I did it because it was the right thing to do.
“You look confused.” I turned to the voice. He was beautiful, in a terrifying way. He could have been confused for a man, though where from nobody would be able to tell. He looked like he had a bit of every race in him, and no particular stood out, but every feature of his looked like it was directly crafted by God himself, which realistically it was. The only thing that made him stand out were his wings, two pairs that met at his shoulder blades. They were massive, a wingspan of easily three meters, and covered in raven feathers.
“Satan? What am I doing here?”
The being laughed, a sound like thunder filling the cathedral he stood in. “First, I am Lucifer, the first of the Ones With Knowledge. Satan is the name that *they* began calling me after my Fall. Second, you are hear for what you’ve done.”
“I saved people! I took away the worst diseases, I cured cancer! And I never even did it for the recognition! I just wanted to help my fellow man! I *gave* the cure away, every nation had it for free! I made better crops to feed people, I made organizations that treated drug addiction, I made the world a better place!”
“And so you did, and you did it well. Too well. Look, now, at your creation.” The great stained glass window behind Lucifer’s grand throne oozed a liquid metal, forming a great circle. In it, images began to form.
Hundreds of people lined up outside of hospitals, eager to be rid of their plagues. Leukemia, lymphoma, breast cancer, pancreatic cancer, all gone with a simple injection. The image was repeated across the globe, thousands, then millions, flocking to medical institutes to be cured. It shifted, people at dinner tables, eating well, not gluttony but what they needed.
“I brought people down to their lowest, made them angry with God, made them curse his name. But you, you amazing man, you made them forget him altogether. Of all the things I have ever done, none of them have gotten people to stop praying as easily as you have.” The images changed to churches, all across the world. Empty pews, crumbling altars, and silence, except for the few parishioners still attending.
“Mankind has always needed hope, and that hope brought them to God. But you, you became the new source of hope. They want for nothing, and the crucible that was Earth has broken their faith. I gave them fear and sadness, and God gave them hope. You, more than I ever have, found a way to supplant faith in God. They believe in science now, not Him, and you will be honored here for all eternity for it. Thank you.” | I close my eyes for the last time. The world outside goes dark, then there is brightness shining through my eyelids.
I open my eyes, half believing I will see the light of paradise, Saint Peter waiting to give me a high five.
Instead, I am staring at some sort of demented altar, with long spikes emerging up from the far side, the two at the farthest end coming towards me, twirled like gazelle horns. As my eyes adjust to the fire surrounding it, I realize it is a throne.
*"Majestic, isn't it?"* I hear a hissing whisper behind me, and turn.
He doesn't look as advertised, but there is no mistaking: It's Satan himself, covered in red scales. His arms are like snakes, with torn off flesh like cuffs of his shirt, hands made of their mangled and smashed skulls.
*"Well?"* He says, gesturing for me to look at the throne. My eyes adjust more to the fire than I think they should be able to, and I realize it only looked bad because of the flames. It is gold, and clearly fit for a benevolent monarch- though I doubt any have ever sat on it.
I shake my head to end my reverie, and voice my initial question, explaining who exactly I was in life: A savior of men, a genius, and a philanthropist.
*"Oh, yes, you certainly were a good man, weren't you?"*
"Exactly!" I exclaim, "So this *must* be some sort of mistake..."
*"Oh, I most certainly agree... so, come with me. A man lived as a savior deserves to share paradise's shores."*
I nod.
*"And, after all you've done so, so much work, you* deserve *a reward."*
I nod again, glad he understands, though perplexed by his kindness and helpfulness.
*"Yesssss... You deserve rest, to retire from the stress of being a savior and live as just one more saved human in a whole harvest of such..."*
I stop in my tracks, "Just one more..."
*"Oh, but of course... They already have a true Savior up there... all the saved live as equals in honor and majesty."*
"Oh, yes, of course..."
*"Oh, this distresses you?"*
"I..." I'm not sure what to say.
*"Believe it or not, I agree... Once, I too, was a savior, asked to be a servant to mere children, and forsake my glory."*
"And... what did you do?"
*"Better to rule in Hell than serve in Heaven."*
"I..."
I take a careful moment to make sure I want to ask my next question.
"Is that an option?"
The Devil smiles and nods.
*"They can worship you. They all owe you everything."*
"Yes... but what of my torture? My damnation?"
*"Oh, that little pain? Is it not a small sum to be man's merciful savior? Here is a secret: I have been searching for a new falsehood, for they grow more Abrahamic each day. But you are even better, aren't you? Not a falsehood, nor a forefather with little to show by way of blessing."*
"Yes, that's right... I am their true Savior."
*Than by all means, sir... take your seat."*
I turn, and walk towards that glorious chair. | |
[WP] You've done it, you have found the cure for cancer, you are humanity's saviour. Sadly you pass away just weeks after the discovery. Expecting Heaven you are shocked when you awake to a fiery landscape as the truth dawns on you. You are in Hell and Satan is eager to shake your hand. | It was just like blinking.
I was lying in bed...I had been feeling run down for months, having put all of my effort toward developing the cure.
My God, the secrets...the lies. My marriage fell apart. My friends deserted me. I couldn't tell anyone. Do you know how quickly I'd have been killed if people had known I was developing a cure?
Instantly. Me and everyone I had told. Gone if anyone had found out.
Treatment, research, survivor's groups, fundraising. My research would have meant the death of an entire industry, all because it's easier to profit off of treatments than cures. Millions of dollars is worth more than millions of lives if you're trying to amass wealth and are morally flexible.
I couldn't tell anyone. I couldn't tell them I was working on a cure. Or was getting close. Or was nearly there. No. I had to wait until the cure was finished. I had to make sure that there were samples, that it could be made available to *everyone*. That it couldn't be taken and buried or commodified by the very people who profited on the disease I had just eradicated.
I had to make sure that this cat could never be put back into the bag.
And so I lied. My hours at work got longer...late nights became the norm. I was necessarily vague about my activities. How could I put my husband in danger?
I chose this. He didn't.
But my choice led to him feeling neglected. Then suspicious. Then broken.
He left, assuming I had been unfaithful.
I was trying to save the world, goddamnit! I was trying to save *him*. He had a few months left, but time has a way of slipping by before you realize it. And the type of cancer he had wasn't the type you get better from.
I hope he understands. It's too late for me to explain things now.
Everything got shoved into the background. I worked. I barely slept. Barely ate. Stopped attending social functions. Stopped bathing.
It's a wonder I managed to find the cure at all in the shape I was in. It's a wonder my friends stuck around as long as they did. Only a bit longer than my husband.
They slowly faded a way, one by one. A few assumed I had been cheating on my husband and shunned me. Others assumed I had had a mental break.
In the end, there was me and my research.
I found the cure. I double checked my results. Triple checked. in 88% of cases, one dose of the serum eradicated any and all traces of cancer within weeks. In the other 12%, one additional treatment was needed.
From basic melanoma to rare and aggressive brain tumors, the results were the same.
This was the cure.
And so I posted my findings EVERYWHERE I could. Youtube, reddit, facebook, instagram. I sent my research to all of my colleagues, journals in the field, conspiracy sites..everywhere I possibly could. I HAD to make sure it couldn't be suppressed. I had to make sure people knew.
And once the comments started rolling in, the experts cautious in their assessments but eagerly discussing the data, I knew I had done all I could.
And so I laid down, bone tired, and slept.
It was just like blinking.
One moment, I'm exhausted in bed. I shut my eyes, open them, and I'm standing nude, facing a lake of fire.
I blinked again, and there *he* was. Lucifer.
He didn't look like the depictions you see in movies. Horns, hooves, fangs?
No. No tail either. Somehow, that just made things *more* confusing.
I don't know how I knew. But I knew, as sure as I knew where I was and that I had never felt such a dry, blistering heat, that this guy was The Devil.
He looks like someone you'd expect to be checking folks out at Target. One of the fancy stores, though..with two floors and an escalator specifically for the carts. Red polo, black pants, a bit of stubble, and a demeanor that seemed like he had seen all manner of wacky shit and had never been impressed by ANY of it.
He looked bored.
He extended a hand and said, "Hey. You're the guy who killed God, eh? Nice one."
I stared for a good, long while. Then I nodded dumbly.
"Oh, sorry. I forget that this is new for people. I've been here a while. So, yea. You're in hell, you fucked up God's plan, but it's cool. You'll be fine."
"How can I be fine", I asked, "When I'm in hell and you're the devil and I've apparently destroyed God's plan and I don't even have my Nalgene bottle!? What even was the plan? All I did was save people!"
"Exactly", he said.
"Look, dude..most of what you learned about me, God, and all that has been subject to an aeons-old game of "telephone". The message got lost a while ago. Here's the abridged: You know how he sacrificed his only son? That bit was true. The part where he did it to erase you all's sins? Not so much. He draws power from entropy, you see. From death. Cancer was his Magnum Opus. Guaranteed death, built into you people on a genetic level. Given enough time and replications, ANY cell will experience abnormalities. It's part of life, ageing, and death. No matter how clean you live, your cells will eventually begin to break down, experience abnormalities, and you will die. You just beat cancer. Rather, you think you *just* beat cancer. Thanks to how available you've made your cure, within a few months, your research became the key to human *immortality*. You cut off God's food supply. You've effectively killed God."
All I had was, "Fuck."
"Precisely", he intoned. "Like I said, most of what you've heard about us is way off. Have you noticed that there's no one being tortured? How there's no monsters, chains, or any of that? Do you see the kids playing in the lake of fire right now? Shit, dude...there's a water fountain right behind you. The filter has JUST been replaced, and the water is ice cold. We got root beer too, if you want. It's hot here, but that's about the only true thing about hell you probably know. Heaven and hell are basically the same place with different management. You get eternal life, no sickness, injury, you get to walk through walls and hover and shit. It's pretty cool. People who are into religion go to Heaven. Everyone else ends up here. Honestly, heaven is boring, anyway. How fun are a bunch of religious people going to really be? And do you really want to live according to doctrine for eternity? Besides, considering what you did, you're better off down here anyway. God's pretty pissed at you. And *hangry*."
"Er," I said.
"Man of few words," The Devil joked. "It's a lot to take in. I get it. Look, here's your keys. You're in lot 17-48-3A. Check the map by the fountain to find it -- it's like 5 minutes away. The layout should be just like your house, but if there's any problems, just contact the helpdesk, alright? Wifi code, contact list, and some brochures are on your coffee table. Should be a Nalgene bottle, too. If you want a different color, hit up the help desk. Why don't you go home, take a load off, and come see me when you're feeling a bit more talkative, yea?"
"Yea," I said. And so, I went home.
edit: typos. | I close my eyes for the last time. The world outside goes dark, then there is brightness shining through my eyelids.
I open my eyes, half believing I will see the light of paradise, Saint Peter waiting to give me a high five.
Instead, I am staring at some sort of demented altar, with long spikes emerging up from the far side, the two at the farthest end coming towards me, twirled like gazelle horns. As my eyes adjust to the fire surrounding it, I realize it is a throne.
*"Majestic, isn't it?"* I hear a hissing whisper behind me, and turn.
He doesn't look as advertised, but there is no mistaking: It's Satan himself, covered in red scales. His arms are like snakes, with torn off flesh like cuffs of his shirt, hands made of their mangled and smashed skulls.
*"Well?"* He says, gesturing for me to look at the throne. My eyes adjust more to the fire than I think they should be able to, and I realize it only looked bad because of the flames. It is gold, and clearly fit for a benevolent monarch- though I doubt any have ever sat on it.
I shake my head to end my reverie, and voice my initial question, explaining who exactly I was in life: A savior of men, a genius, and a philanthropist.
*"Oh, yes, you certainly were a good man, weren't you?"*
"Exactly!" I exclaim, "So this *must* be some sort of mistake..."
*"Oh, I most certainly agree... so, come with me. A man lived as a savior deserves to share paradise's shores."*
I nod.
*"And, after all you've done so, so much work, you* deserve *a reward."*
I nod again, glad he understands, though perplexed by his kindness and helpfulness.
*"Yesssss... You deserve rest, to retire from the stress of being a savior and live as just one more saved human in a whole harvest of such..."*
I stop in my tracks, "Just one more..."
*"Oh, but of course... They already have a true Savior up there... all the saved live as equals in honor and majesty."*
"Oh, yes, of course..."
*"Oh, this distresses you?"*
"I..." I'm not sure what to say.
*"Believe it or not, I agree... Once, I too, was a savior, asked to be a servant to mere children, and forsake my glory."*
"And... what did you do?"
*"Better to rule in Hell than serve in Heaven."*
"I..."
I take a careful moment to make sure I want to ask my next question.
"Is that an option?"
The Devil smiles and nods.
*"They can worship you. They all owe you everything."*
"Yes... but what of my torture? My damnation?"
*"Oh, that little pain? Is it not a small sum to be man's merciful savior? Here is a secret: I have been searching for a new falsehood, for they grow more Abrahamic each day. But you are even better, aren't you? Not a falsehood, nor a forefather with little to show by way of blessing."*
"Yes, that's right... I am their true Savior."
*Than by all means, sir... take your seat."*
I turn, and walk towards that glorious chair. | |
[WP] Everyone fear the mysterious dragonslaying knight clad in pitch black armor. Actually she is just very shy. | Sprite Lustre grimaced as she braced for impact, the earth hurtling up to greet her. She had taken falls before, but not from this height. She positioned her shield, coated in black from the carbon burns left by dragon flame, between her and the ground.
"Handmaiden, protect me," was all she managed before hurtling through the canopy of branches and slamming into foliage and detritus collected on the forest floor. Moments later, a much larger body came crashing into the forest, uprooting trees and causing the natives to squawk their displeasure as they beat a hasty retreat.
Sprite coughed up a bubble of blood, causing it to spray the inside of her helm, and struggled to her feet. She felt very broken, but reasonably certain she hadn't broke anything. That did not stop everything from hurting. Each step toward the smoldering beast was accompanied by a wince.
Her sword arm shook as she drew Flamebane from its scabbard. She approached the fallen dragon warily, vigilant for the sort of tricks that had caught her comrades who had come for Guvveneris before her. The tension built with each step, sweat began running in trickles amidst the blood and grime smeared across her face.
"Come now Guvveneris, not going to make it that easy on me are you?" Her goading had no effect. The dragon simply continued to lay on the ground, it's enormous leathery black wings folded over its body, obscuring her view.
Slowly she rounded the body, finally coming past the broad sweep of Guvveneris' body to see the head...and the large stump it was impaled upon.
Guvveneris was dead. The Red Blight, Scourge of the Northlands, was no more. Lady Lustre had claimed victory where the others had failed. She stood alone, the last of the Dragoneri. Her eyes welled up as the enormity of the moment settled upon her.
How would she rebuild? She never thought that she might succeed. That the youngest and weakest of the Dragoneri might find triumph where the Masters had not. She stared at the corpse, her mind flitting back to the burnt out keep that had been the home to her order. An order dismantled by Guvveneris and his brood.
She speared Flamebane into the dirt before you, the blade still smeared with Guvveneris' crimson blood. Placing both hands onto the pommel, she bowed her head in prayer.
"Great gobs of frak, a dragon!" A young man, about Sprite's age exclaimed as he came stumbling into the clearing, a child no more than five turning teetering along beside him. "Lookee 'ere Lawli!" The child took one glance at the assemblage of wings, claws and teeth and immediately cowered behind the older boy.
"I dinnae wanna, Galwin" Lawli crouched behind Galwin, his blue eyes peering out betwixt Lawli's legs.
"Ain't nothin' to be scared of Li, it's gutted and impaled. Somethin' gave it a nasty fight." He whistled out in appreciation as his eyes traced the scores of wounds up and down its scaled form. "Maybe a gryphon?"
Lawli tugged on Galwin's tunic.
"Wassit you want Lawli? I'm gawpin' 'ere."
"I dinnae think it's a gryphon," Lawli replied.
"Why's that?" Galwin's eyes remained fixed on the dragon's form.
"I think it was him over there," Lawli pointed toward the form crouched across the clearing. Galwin blinked and then followed Lawli's finger.
As soon as his eyes alighted upon the figure in the black armor, he scrambled backwards a few steps. "Is it..." He fell silent as the form came to a stand and slowly walked toward the dragon, the strange red colored sword in its hand. He jumped as the figure raised the sword and deftly jabbed it through the eye of the dragon and then twisted it.
Lawli cried out in alarm, causing the figure to startle and then turn toward them. It was covered from head to toe in black plate and black mail. Atop its head was a closed helm with large wings extending from it.
Galwin recognized the helm. Had heard about them in the stories his ma and da had whispered to him as he nestled in bed at night. About the Handmaiden's Chosen, the Protectors of the Realm. The Dragoneri.
He had heard they had all died. Consumed in Guvveneris' flames. His eyes darted from the knight to the dragon again, slowly piecing things together. He had never seen the Red Blight, but he'd heard enough rumors to recognize the corpse.
The Dragoneri had slain the Scourge.
Gathering his courage, he took a few cautious steps toward the knight, "Hail to thee, noble, um, lord."
Sprite, startled, simply stared at the handsome boy standing before her. Her training had not left her with much time for socializing, and the little chatter she indulged in was primarily directed at the Masters, the Handmaiden guide their souls. She was sorely unprepared to make nice with...a boy.
"Are you...are you all right Sir Lord Knight Dragoneri?" Galwin asked, figuring that including all titles was the better strategy.
The knight remained still, as if frozen, the dark slit in its grim helm peering into his soul. If this knight could destroy Guvveneris single-handedly, what might he do to him?
Sprite tried to work her mouth insider her helm, but found it had suddenly gone dry. She tried again, but the heat of the day, the loss of blood and the exertions against Guvveneris got the better of her.
She collapsed in a heap.
Galwin stared as the knight fell to the ground with a great clang. He blinked once and then looked down at Lawli who provided him with an unhelpful shrug. Galwin looked back to where the knight lay, "Uh, hullo?"
No answer.
"Mr. Dragoneri?"
Nothing. He took a few timid steps toward the heap of armor.
"M'lord?"
He now stood above the prostrate body. "I think he's hurt Lawli. We gotta help."
Lawli scrambled closer, "How?"
"I think we gotta take his armor off and look for wounds."
Lawli looked up at him skeptically, "Do you think that's a good idea?"
"No, but neither was comin' into the forest to investigate a big bang and we done that anyways," Galwin replied, working on the straps that held the breastplate in place. "Now c'mon and give me some help."
Lawli began to unwind the fasteners on the helm. Moments later the breastplate was removed along with the padding beneath it, revealing the well-built frame of a very fit young lady. Galwin stared at the revealed torso, scantily wrapped in a clinging, transparent cloth. "By the Handmaiden," was all he managed before the helm popped off, bringing a graceful face speckled with blood and rivulets of sweat into the light.
"She's a...she's a girl!" Lawli exclaimed.
"I can see that you idjit!"
"I ain't no idjit! You are!" Lawli whined, drawing his arms to his chest and beginning to pout.
"This ain't no time to argue, we gotta see what's wrong with her." As his eyes ran over her form again, he saw a small trickle of red leaking from between the plates covering her thighs and her codpiece.
Galwin momentarily wondered whether it was still a codpiece for girls. Then the realization of what he would have to do caught up with him and he gulped. "I think she's got a wound on her leg...area." He gestured generally to her groin.
"I'm not touching that," Lawli replied, hopping back.
"I uh...I guess I will," he glanced back at the unconscious girl and then slowly began to loosen the cords attaching her leg armor. After he had gained some slack in them, he pulled them away, searching for the wound. His fingers began to probe the damp cloth of her upper thigh.
As soon as his fingers touched her flesh, her eyes sprang open and immediately stared down at him. Her face reddened, clearly a flush of anger overwhelming her. Galwin threw up his hands, "I was only trying to help!"
Sprite stared at the boy, frozen. This was not how she imagined a boy would see her for the first time. She could feel her cheeks boil, a red to rival the deepest flames. *Oh Handmaiden, please kill me now.*
**Platypus out.**
**Want MOAR peril?** r/PerilousPlatypus | “You, who are you?”
Yuko jumped behind the Wyrm with incredible agility, unsheathing a twin pair of daggers from her overhanging sleeves. She slashed forward, hitting the creature at the pressure point she knew would punish it the most. The Wyrm snarled in pain, doubled over, and attempted to lash his tail out as an effort to bring the lithe ninja down. But Yuko danced over the scaly and sinuous whip, arriving back at the front where she incised a nasty cross shaped gash which rendered the creature’s left eye injured and bloody.
“Please, tell me who you are?”
The peasant children she defended were on rocky ground, one bleeding from a cut on the forehead. Both were dusty, dark circles under their eyes. One clutched a talisman in her clenched fist, watching over her unconscious brother. Nearby was the cynosure that prompted the attack - a basket of dirt encrusted gold, but gold nonetheless.
Yuko held one dagger out in front of her, threatening the Wyrm’s other eye. His left was in danger of becoming permanently unusable, and he eyed the basket of gold. Dictating that it wasn’t worth such a grievous injury, he took flight and sped off into the horizon, leaving Yuko with the two children still remaining on the rocky plateau.
“My brother, he’s cut. Please, they say that you are a demon, but you helped us.”
Yuko removed her cowl, exposing to the west wind a face full of worry. She rushed over to the children, kneeling down.
The boy had a cut on his forehead, courtesy of the Wyrm’s claws. With herbs and salve, he would heal with no permanent damage. But he needed a village, and he needed one fast.
Yuko summoned up her courage, and answered the question in a faint whisper.
“My name is Yuko. Your brother needs a house of healing.”
The girl looked up, and crawled over to pick up the basket of gold, which she held out to Yuko.
“Take it, please. For my brother, to help him.”
She shook her head, and performed the [ドラゴンコール], a Rite of Ninja that was her own special technique. It would summon her closest companion, the only one she felt comfortable talking to. The one who comforted her after the death of her parents fifteen years earlier.
Yuko’s hands glowed, energy rising like steam into the clear mountain air.
Out of the horizon, a shadow growing ever closer. Her closest companion, her confidant, her partner.
Gusts of wind blew the small rocks scattered on the ground, as a dragon as black as Yuko’s cowl descended down.
She was Wyrmkiller.
And her closest friend was a Wyrm. | |
[WP] You walk into the library and see that everything is on fire. Ignoring that minor inconvenience you go looking for your book. | I stepped between the burning shelves full of burning books. Overhead I heard the loudspeaker blaring “Remain calm while evacuating the library. Remember to use the stairs not the elevators.” I continued walking calmly. I passed other patrons passing me in the other directions. None of them questioned me: maybe because none of them cared about the life of anyone other than their own, or maybe because I was striding confidently as if I knew what I was doing, which I did. Perhaps they assumed I worked for the library or was a fire inspector or something like that. I decided to give no further thought to what these measly humans were thinking.
Silvester was right when he pointed out that I had too much curiosity about the humans. Curiosity killed the cat. Well, lucky for me that I was not a cat then. Fire could kill humans. Lucky for me I was not human either, though to the passers by I certainly looked like one. Unfortunately fire also consumed books. Even the book I was seeking could be destroyed given too much time inside the flames. Thus time was of essence. I had to find it.
Where would humans have filed this particular book? That is what I had to figure out in this limited time. This is why the council had sent me, because I had the reputation of one who strived to figure out how humans think. And thus I had been given the task of finding where they had filed the Book of Power, despite the fact that the book’s title and contents would have changed to camouflage itself to appear harmless to the humans. So really the task was not about figuring out how humans thought after all, but more about how the Book of Power thought, and what it would have thought to be the most harmless disguise would be, based on the Book’s most likely understanding of humans.
I knew that the book could not disguise its size. It was a very big thick book, and always would be. Actually it would get even thicker and bigger over the years, as it gained additional knowledge and additional power. What I knew though was that much like the rest of my people, the book did not bother to learn much about humans, thus its idea of what was a harmless disguise would likely not be consistent with a human’s idea. Given that, I headed first for the children’s section, looking for a very large and heavy children’s book. Sure enough, there it was: “761 Ways of How to Start a Fire.” | The fire has fully engulfed the sci-fi section and is slowly consuming the much more prodigious romance aisles.
Not a huge loss. Though there were a few stand-out novels from each of the two genres, I never much cared for either of them.
I have picked up my pace from a brisk walk to a full-on sprint towards the back of the enormous library.
Evading the guards in front of the building was a simple task, for once I had fought my way past them I knew that they wouldn't attempt to chase me. Flames had already started to inundate the library and none of them were going to risk their lives to save my own.
The heat is almost unbearable and my breath is growing heavier each second. As I rapidly make my way through the aisles, the flames begin to catch up with me. I take a look behind me and am met by a blazing orange wall of fire.
No going back now.
I had made this decision the second I heard the news a few weeks ago. The Oakford Library had been the only remaining bookstore in the world up until today, all others having been burned down in the past few years. I am sprinting past the last pieces of literature to exist before becoming ashes, mere memories of a past world.
I can see the section now. I am only a few meters away.
I glance back again and notice that I have gained some distance from the flames. At least I will have a few seconds of peace.
As I sprint into the last row of the crumbling library, tears stream down my face. I made it just in time.
Kurt Vonnegut, Orson Welles, Virginia Woolf, James Joyce, and so many others surround me. I soak in every title I see, remembering the enthralling story that I was swept into at some point in my life. I pull a random book out of the shelf and get a whiff of the beautiful smell of the pages.
Books are my life. I lived with books, and books only. Every day I would be consumed by a new story, a new situation, new characters, and wouldn't be released until the very last page. Books were my friend, my true love, my only passion in life. Now it's only fair that I go with them.
The towering flames have begun to swallow my friends.
Kurt Vonnegut, Orson Welles, Virginia Woolf, and James Joyce have all disappeared, their masterpieces gone. Soon to be forgotten by society.
I close my eyes and sob.
The flames are mere inches away from me now.
The last remaining copies of these classics have become ashes.
Books no longer exist.
I can't live on without my only friend, companion, and love.
I no longer fear the flames.
| |
[WP] You walk into the library and see that everything is on fire. Ignoring that minor inconvenience you go looking for your book. | “Um, excuse me, miss.”
I hum a noncommittal acknowledgement. *Politics in Ancient Rome*... *Gladiator Games…* No this isn’t the right section…
“Miss!”
My open palm absentmindedly rises to signal him that I’ll get to him in a moment. *Ancient Greece’s Social Hierarchy… Athens to Sparta…* I huff a bit in frustration. Where are the books I need!?
“Miss!” The policeman deliberately ignores my body language. “You can’t be in here right now!”
“Hold your pants on! I’ll be with you in a moment!”
“Ho-Hold my pants on?” the policeman chokes out in disbelief. As if it’s hard for him to understand someone wanting silence in the library. “Miss, there’s a *fire!”*
“Pants on fire?! How dare you call me a liar! You’re the liar.”
“There’s a fire in the library,” his slow calm voice attempts to disguise the obvious irritation underlining it. Which just proves my point that his pants are on fire. Or was that his point? *Gender in the Ancient World… Slave Trade…*
“Hey, do you happen to know where the books on Ancient Mesopotamia are?”
“Did you not see the yellow tape blocking the doorway?”
“Hey, now don’t you be answering my question with a question, you smarty pants.”
“That way.” He bites out. “The Mesopotamia books are *that* way. In the flaming pile of books. Now will you *please* vacate the premises.”
“That way, huh?” I let out a long sigh. “Hold this.” I pass my jacket to him. It looks hot in there, and I’d really rather not get burnt *and* sweaty.
“Wha-What? Why would you possibly want to go in there? Those books are on fire. They’re burning,” he expands with emphasis. As if someone smart enough to visit the library isn’t smart enough to know what fire does. I start wading my way around the ashes and stray sparks. “Excuse me,” I tell a firefighter blocking a shelf. *Ancient Egyptian Culture… Pyramids…*
“There’s likely only a handful of books over there that are even salvageable.”
“That’s fine. I only need three.” *Crops and Farming… Ancient Inventions….*
“Three?”
“Yes, I need three books sources for my paper on Ancient Mesopotamia. Which is due tomorrow by the way. So if you would stop bothering me so I can get going on this, maybe I’ll be able to get some shut-eye tonight.”
His jaw drops a bit and he blinks a few times. Good. So he finally understands the severity of the situation.
“For God’s sake, tell your teacher the books were on fire, and get an extension on the deadline.”
“Please," I dismiss his deplorable single-mindedness. "My teacher didn’t believe my dog ate my homework last week. Why on earth would she believe that the library caught on fire. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“But the library is *actually* on fire.”
“And my brother *actually* ate my homework
“I thought you said your dog ate it?”
“Does it matter? Either way, she takes 20 points off for bite marks and saliva. Here’s to hoping she takes less off for burn marks.” I raise a mock champagne glass for cheers… Which the officer takes as an invitation to slap a handcuff around my extended wrist.
“Hey!” I shout in protest as I’m dragged towards the exit with my three books tucked underneath my armpit. “I have to check these out, or I’ll get in trouble with security for stealing library books. You don’t really want to have to see me again, do you?” | Hmmm, maybe a Romantic Fiction this time.
I navigated my way to the far corner of the library where I was met with countless books adorned with steely eyed half-dressed males embracing simpering maidens.
I picked up one with a promising title, and scanned the blurb:
‘....on the run and with nowhere to go...can she afford to get close to him?..silken hair...heaving bosoms...a passion that claims all her senses…’
Think I’ll pass on this one. They must have something less trashy. I reach for one on a higher shelf and sharply recoil when I feel the flesh on my right hand sting where it made contact with the metal shelf.
What the f**k?
I inhale and notice the acrid smell of burnt cheap carpet, there’s a smoke rising and the deep breath in I just took makes me retch.
At this point the smoke alarm system starts blaring.
Even my worst hallucinations aren’t this realistic. There was that time I thought my ex-boyfriend was a shark intent on murdering me, so I punched him in the nose - probably for the best that we’re now seeing other people...or at least I was.
However, even when I get caught up in a hallucination, they don’t claim all of my senses. I’ve mostly learnt to ignore them.
Perhaps I should have noticed sooner that usually frigid library, was now feeling a lot more tropical.
With my hand in my mouth to temper the burning pain shooting up my arm, I try to rationally think my way out of this mess. I grab the nearest book with my left hand and start running through the aisles.
Left. Left. Right. Another Left.
Edging around the towering inferno that used to be stack for ‘Self Help and Meditation’, I carefully make my way into the larger corridor, almost at the exit. I pause for a moment in guilt by the self-checkout scanner, but decide it’s not worth the risk.
I dash again, and don’t stop running until I’m through the double doors and out into the open.
I look at my right hand - although still very sore, the burn looks to be superficial. I take my first look at the contents of my left hand - the book I retrieved like a horny Indiana Jones.
‘Mermaid’s Kiss - some destinies are meant to be denied.'
*Sigh* Still, it’s probably a better love story than Twilight.
| |
[WP] You walk into the library and see that everything is on fire. Ignoring that minor inconvenience you go looking for your book. | I stepped between the burning shelves full of burning books. Overhead I heard the loudspeaker blaring “Remain calm while evacuating the library. Remember to use the stairs not the elevators.” I continued walking calmly. I passed other patrons passing me in the other directions. None of them questioned me: maybe because none of them cared about the life of anyone other than their own, or maybe because I was striding confidently as if I knew what I was doing, which I did. Perhaps they assumed I worked for the library or was a fire inspector or something like that. I decided to give no further thought to what these measly humans were thinking.
Silvester was right when he pointed out that I had too much curiosity about the humans. Curiosity killed the cat. Well, lucky for me that I was not a cat then. Fire could kill humans. Lucky for me I was not human either, though to the passers by I certainly looked like one. Unfortunately fire also consumed books. Even the book I was seeking could be destroyed given too much time inside the flames. Thus time was of essence. I had to find it.
Where would humans have filed this particular book? That is what I had to figure out in this limited time. This is why the council had sent me, because I had the reputation of one who strived to figure out how humans think. And thus I had been given the task of finding where they had filed the Book of Power, despite the fact that the book’s title and contents would have changed to camouflage itself to appear harmless to the humans. So really the task was not about figuring out how humans thought after all, but more about how the Book of Power thought, and what it would have thought to be the most harmless disguise would be, based on the Book’s most likely understanding of humans.
I knew that the book could not disguise its size. It was a very big thick book, and always would be. Actually it would get even thicker and bigger over the years, as it gained additional knowledge and additional power. What I knew though was that much like the rest of my people, the book did not bother to learn much about humans, thus its idea of what was a harmless disguise would likely not be consistent with a human’s idea. Given that, I headed first for the children’s section, looking for a very large and heavy children’s book. Sure enough, there it was: “761 Ways of How to Start a Fire.” | Hmmm, maybe a Romantic Fiction this time.
I navigated my way to the far corner of the library where I was met with countless books adorned with steely eyed half-dressed males embracing simpering maidens.
I picked up one with a promising title, and scanned the blurb:
‘....on the run and with nowhere to go...can she afford to get close to him?..silken hair...heaving bosoms...a passion that claims all her senses…’
Think I’ll pass on this one. They must have something less trashy. I reach for one on a higher shelf and sharply recoil when I feel the flesh on my right hand sting where it made contact with the metal shelf.
What the f**k?
I inhale and notice the acrid smell of burnt cheap carpet, there’s a smoke rising and the deep breath in I just took makes me retch.
At this point the smoke alarm system starts blaring.
Even my worst hallucinations aren’t this realistic. There was that time I thought my ex-boyfriend was a shark intent on murdering me, so I punched him in the nose - probably for the best that we’re now seeing other people...or at least I was.
However, even when I get caught up in a hallucination, they don’t claim all of my senses. I’ve mostly learnt to ignore them.
Perhaps I should have noticed sooner that usually frigid library, was now feeling a lot more tropical.
With my hand in my mouth to temper the burning pain shooting up my arm, I try to rationally think my way out of this mess. I grab the nearest book with my left hand and start running through the aisles.
Left. Left. Right. Another Left.
Edging around the towering inferno that used to be stack for ‘Self Help and Meditation’, I carefully make my way into the larger corridor, almost at the exit. I pause for a moment in guilt by the self-checkout scanner, but decide it’s not worth the risk.
I dash again, and don’t stop running until I’m through the double doors and out into the open.
I look at my right hand - although still very sore, the burn looks to be superficial. I take my first look at the contents of my left hand - the book I retrieved like a horny Indiana Jones.
‘Mermaid’s Kiss - some destinies are meant to be denied.'
*Sigh* Still, it’s probably a better love story than Twilight.
| |
[WP] You walk into the library and see that everything is on fire. Ignoring that minor inconvenience you go looking for your book. | It's always snowing in the grocery store. Well not always, not when the store is closed of course but during regular hours it's wise to wear snow pants if you are buying anything in aisle 5-7.
Every day the Seasons Diner heightens a different one of the patrons' senses. My family usually only goes on smell days but I know most of my friends prefer taste days (my mom once got something she hadn't had before and she didn't like, it was a taste heightened day so it made her throw up right there). On hearing days they put up a big sign encouraging whispers and exchange the metal silverware for plastic to make sure your eardrums don't literally explode.
The post office has been quarantined since the Jupiter gravity set in a few weeks back crushing all the packages and the bones of our neighbor working there at the time. Right next store they put up a temporary post office/mourning site for the packages and the postman. Its a little bit of an inconvenience but at least my dad's bones didnt turn to dust under his own weight right?
Every other day everything in Marty's Dry Cleaners turns into bugs. This started a few years back and all he had to do was change his business hours. On the days it's closed you look inside the glass and see cockroaches and centipedes piled up to the ceiling squirming and feeding on each other. When you return the next day to get your shirt it's as good as new, no bugs to be found, spotless.
The town church makes you horny. They've torn it down 3 times already but after a few months it sets in again. I went in there once and ended up in a threesome with the preacher and his wife. The sign things are about to get..sexy(?) comes when the statues of Jesus suddenly have massive red penis' sticking out from their loincloths and this leering pervert look on their face. When that happens the church staff makes plans to tear the place down again and rebuild fresh but it gets hard to do when the orgies keep interrupting the meetings. Children are strictly forbidden from entering the building at any time and the stained glass windows have been replaced with two-way mirrors. At least the signs outside warn you now so it ain't all bad.
My friend's apartment is full of catatonic copies of his mother that increase in count by 1 each month he stays there. When a new copy appears all of the catatonic mothers scream for 6 minutes as if welcoming their new sister. He moves them to a closet where they remain standing and staring in the dark but they never waste away even as he starves them. At this point, he has 6 moms and is running out of space to store them. I asked him why he doesn't move out and he said the rent is cheap and its better than his old place(his last apartment would sometimes just not exist, the number and door replaced with a public restroom).
My parents' house isn't all that bad, we just avoid using the downstairs bathroom. When you flush the toilet, sometimes the waterlogged corpse of a dog will appear in the shower upstairs. This seems to only occur when flushing a shit and the mutilation of the corpse seems to directly relate to the severity of said shit. I don't want to recall how we learned of this correlation.
So today I'm going to the library. Of course, it's on fire at all times but that's as safe as it gets in this fucking town.
| Hmmm, maybe a Romantic Fiction this time.
I navigated my way to the far corner of the library where I was met with countless books adorned with steely eyed half-dressed males embracing simpering maidens.
I picked up one with a promising title, and scanned the blurb:
‘....on the run and with nowhere to go...can she afford to get close to him?..silken hair...heaving bosoms...a passion that claims all her senses…’
Think I’ll pass on this one. They must have something less trashy. I reach for one on a higher shelf and sharply recoil when I feel the flesh on my right hand sting where it made contact with the metal shelf.
What the f**k?
I inhale and notice the acrid smell of burnt cheap carpet, there’s a smoke rising and the deep breath in I just took makes me retch.
At this point the smoke alarm system starts blaring.
Even my worst hallucinations aren’t this realistic. There was that time I thought my ex-boyfriend was a shark intent on murdering me, so I punched him in the nose - probably for the best that we’re now seeing other people...or at least I was.
However, even when I get caught up in a hallucination, they don’t claim all of my senses. I’ve mostly learnt to ignore them.
Perhaps I should have noticed sooner that usually frigid library, was now feeling a lot more tropical.
With my hand in my mouth to temper the burning pain shooting up my arm, I try to rationally think my way out of this mess. I grab the nearest book with my left hand and start running through the aisles.
Left. Left. Right. Another Left.
Edging around the towering inferno that used to be stack for ‘Self Help and Meditation’, I carefully make my way into the larger corridor, almost at the exit. I pause for a moment in guilt by the self-checkout scanner, but decide it’s not worth the risk.
I dash again, and don’t stop running until I’m through the double doors and out into the open.
I look at my right hand - although still very sore, the burn looks to be superficial. I take my first look at the contents of my left hand - the book I retrieved like a horny Indiana Jones.
‘Mermaid’s Kiss - some destinies are meant to be denied.'
*Sigh* Still, it’s probably a better love story than Twilight.
| |
[WP] The barber holds up a mirror demonstrating their finished work. Your eyes locked forward, catch a glimpse into the alluring void of the infinity mirror effect. A infinite series of the same reality, however, your heart skips a beat as you notice the seventh reflection isnt following the rules | 'Does that look alright to you?'
The woman holds a handheld mirror behind my head. I stare at the mirror in front of me and admire the endless reflections.
I nod my head politely. 'Looks great tha-.'
I can't finish my last word as something, someone in the mirror moves. It's too obvious of a movement to miss, deep in the repetitions I see myself move. Then the barber moves the handheld mirror, breaking the loops.
'Great. Can I offer you a cutthroat shave today George?'
I hesitate.
'Can you show me the back once more please?'
She looks surprised as if I was the first person to ask for a second viewing.
'Of course. You see something you don't like?' She says jokingly.
She positions the mirror back where it had been, and I see the rows upon rows of my head. One moves again; the seventh me disobeys orders. A hand appears beside the seventh me. It... I curl a finger from within the reflection as if to say "Come here."
'Geez George, do you really not like it?' The woman asks and breaks the loop for the second time.
'Huh?' Is about the only thing I can muster.
'Well, you've gone as white as a ghost.'
The look at the single reflection of myself and the colour has indeed drained.
I pass up on the cutthroat-shave, give the woman a sizable tip and head straight home. The drive home is hard; I'm unable to keep my eyes from wandering to the rear-view mirror.
'Daddy!' Is the first thing I hear when I arrive home.
The voice finds me and brings a smidgen of colour back to my pallid features. I hear the stumbling of footsteps and my daughter, Mary, turns the corner with chocolate smeared across her lips.
I open my arms, and the chocolate monster covers me. 'Hey, pumpkin.'
She leans back and looks at my hair. 'You're almost bald!'
I feel a tiny hand run against the grain of my hair and her giggles as it tickles her.
'You've got chocolate in your hair.'
I look up to see my wife laughing; she's wearing sweatpants and stood half in the corridor, leaning through from the kitchen. She walks over and scoops Mary from my arms.
'I'll go wash my hair; you wash the monster.' I say.
Mary scowls at me as her mother drags her away. 'I'm not a monster.'
I head upstairs with my mind pre-occupied. It felt like for the last five minutes I was on autopilot. I close the bathroom and head straight for the circular vanity mirror that rests above the sink. I lift off the shelf and bring it to the bedroom, it's small and rests on a metal base which makes it feel similar to a lamp.
I poise myself awkwardly in front of the bedroom mirror. My face, clothes and hair are muddled brown from the remnants of Mary's baking. I position the bathroom mirror behind my head and hold it at an awkward angle. I have to orient myself a bit when it comes to moving the mirror. But I find the optimum position and I'm once again faced with many identical versions of myself.
I count the heads until I get to seven. I fix my eyes on the one that had moved before, the deviant. Part of me is willing it to stay still and follow the rest, while part of me wants it to move.
*You need to help me.* My voice said, like a thought in the deepest depths of my mind. It came as the seventh reflections mouth moved.
The seventh lips moved again. *Mary is missing.* *I need help.*
Again the words bounced around the back of my skull like I was listening from the other end of a train station. I start to grow faint.
*If any of you are listening. Please step through. I need all the help I can get.*
His voice, my voice was pained and stressed in such a way that I'd never heard before. I press a hand to the mirror as if to check that the seventh is indeed trapped. But it goes through, like the surface of water my hand slips beneath the mirror's frame and plunges into a cold enveloping material. | The hairdresser continued to angle the mirror, yet the seventh one continued to move on its own accord.
I rubbed my eyes, blinked, yet the seventh still stood while all others sat down.
I found checkered floor of the salon was slightly disorienting as I looked down at my cut hair strewn over the floor, hoping that when I looked up the reflection would cease moving. I looked back into the void of never ending reflections to see the absence of my seventh reflection.
“An odd day to be meeting an uncanny friend.”
I stood up, and walked over the counter. My mind was still processing the unusual movement of my seventh reflection.
“Excuse me, what did you mean?”
The hairdresser smiled, corners of her mouth turning upwards slightly. Behind her was another mirror, and I studied my reflection in this one hoping it was still intact and normal.
“An uncanny friend can be quite jarring to see your first time.”
“I still don’t understand what you mean by that.”
She slowly ran her fingers through her hair, as I listened closely to the faint sound of breathing coming from ground. Gentle breathing, though perfectly audible.
“Have you heard of the doppelgänger theory?”
I studied my reflection in the mirror to her posterior once again, and my heart sank slightly as I saw my reflection raise a finger to its lips, an odd smile on its face.
“I have. Are you talking about those moving reflections? What is it? Some sort of optical illusion?”
My heart pounded as I gave her my credit card, and my reflection was putting on a show for me, grinning widely.
“It seems your doppelgänger, your uncanny friend, is near. When a reflection escapes, it transforms into a physical copy.”
A drop of water landed on my head, and I looked up to see water suffusing a small portion of the ceiling. The breathing continued, though it was now less jarring and more of a general ambient effect. My reflection, which had been making distracting and disturbing motions in the mirror, was now absent entirely.
“Look. Here he is, your uncanny friend.”
I turned around, as the viscous and discolored water poured on my head, splattering down to the checkered floor.
I stared myself in the face, looking deep into the reflection cast in his eyes.
The gentle afternoon outside had left, sky becoming overrun by thick and swirling clouds. | |
[WP] Your roommate is obviously an alien trying to infiltrate humanity... but he pays the rent on time so you don't really care. | “Miss Rufus, Can I have a word?” Every. Single. Time. Every single time! He says something like this and I think it’s going to be the day he confesses. That he will turn to me and just let loose the truth. Alien. Go on, I know he can say it. But he never does. Despite my out spoken suspicions and PHYSICALLY SEEING HIM TRANSFORM… he plays this game with me.
“It’s Ruiz, Tim. For the thirteen hundredth time.” I swallowed hard, trying my best to keep calm. The biggest mistake was letting him watch my collection of classic dvd’s. His humor has become childish and full of bad puns. If I have to answer the “orange you glad I didn’t say banana” knock-knock joke one more time I might actually punch a fruit loop. And by fruit loop I mean Tim.
“That’s what I said, Rufus.” I snapped my head away from my laptop and watched him clam up. For a moment, there was true fear in his eyes. Then it fell away as I huffed and rolled my eyes. He began to snort and chuckle as he walked up to the kitchen table. “What is a porcupine?”
Damnit.
Every! SINGLE! TIME! He gets my hopes up then he crushes them with something stupid. Okay, to be fair, he doesn’t honestly know anything. So to him, wanting to know what a porcupine is, would not be a stupid question. And I actually do like teaching him things. My mother says teaching is in my blood, despite my desire to work in accounting. Educating is fun, and I love helping people… but there is no money in teaching and I’m broke. Accounting isn’t a passion, it’s a paycheck that I’m good at.
I pat my hand on the other dining room chair for Tim to take up. He eagerly bounces into it and slides it across the floor to sit next to me. I put my essay document away and pull up Google. Taking thirty minutes to explain porcupines is a good break away from an essay on why mental math is important in a world with calculators. Because we would start with images, then break down anatomy, which would always end in ‘What is the purpose of a porcupine?’.
Tim doesn’t quite understand earth yet. I suspect his society is only full of things that are useful. As anytime he is in the kitchen, I catch him trying to toss out my garlic press or my mini whisk. As I have a knife that I use to smash garlic sometimes and three other whisks, he says I don’t need the other two. They aren’t useful. Which is why I made signs and taped them on the cabinets and trash can- “Just because you don’t see it’s use, doesn’t mean there isn’t one!”
A lesson Tim is still learning.
I really should have known right off the bat that Tim was an alien. It was kind of obvious. I mean, who shows up to inquire about the roommate ad, holding the bulletin board from the college I put the sign up on. Like the whole 2 foot long bulletin board. Then “couldn’t remember” his name for a moment before telling me his name was ‘Tim… uh… well… Uhwell. Tim Uhwell.’
Yeah, sure it is. But he paid upfront and said that he was going to college for as much knowledge as he could. Something about parental units paying for the whole experience. At first I was distrustful of some trust fund child buying his way into my room and into my life. Until he started asking dumb things. Like how to make cereal, and how to eat ramen. Now I’ve met some sheltered people in my life- I’m a waitress at a local Italian restaurant, trust me when I say I’ve met some rich assholes. But this was something out of this world. I had to teach Tim EVERYTHING! Especially after I came home to him trying to get the toaster CPR. Or… maybe he was just kissing it for fun. Who knows.
I made it clear, if he didn’t know how to do it- He needed to ask. No more blowing up stuff on accident. I didn’t realize how many explosive things I owned until Tim moved in.
Three times I almost asked him to move out. First was after he used the window to leave instead of the door. One trip to the E.R. later, he apologized by buying us both late night fast food and ice-cream. I forgave him. Second was when I came home and heard screams from inside the bathroom. Found him sunk into the toilet bowl, ass first. Apparently he didn’t check for the seat and thought he was being murdered. After I explained to the cops that it was a stupid college prank and not to fine us for a noise disturbance, he bought pizza and apologized until i told him to stop. The third time, however, I walked into his room to give him a letter that arrived. Usually his door was open and he never had a thing for privacy. Four months with this guy and never once did I see him shut it or shy away from the open window when changing.
Then I brushed open the door to hand it to him and came face to face with him… but not Tim. Skin like an oil spill on the ocean, it reflected in the room lights as all his windows were covered in dark curtains. Shaped kind of like an octopus if they were bipeds and the rest of their tentacles were arms. Head moved like it were underwater and big dark green eyes. The size of my fists.
For a second I thought I was hallucinating. Late night studying, too much coffee, normal college problems. But then I blinked and he was still there. Staring at me. I dropped the letter and whipped around. My brain couldn’t process it at all. And so I stood in the kitchen, horrified. Inside my two bedroom apartment was an alien who paraded around as my roommate. I realized then I should I have known. No person, no matter how sheltered, could be that…
Tim returned, back in his skin, and looked apologetic. He didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to say. I thought of demanding he move out. I could not afford any other weird shit in my life. Until reality smacked me in the brain and wallet. I couldn’t afford this without him. Tim was always on time with rent, and he always picked up the tab if I was short. He went grocery shopping with me and picked up more than his fair share of the bill. Tim was so kind and generous, even if he was an alien.
I couldn’t afford to live without him.
So I didn’t say anything, and he didn’t say anything. And we didn’t say anything. I acted like it didn’t happen, and he acted like it never happened. And we acted like life was normal. I went to work and went to class and pushed it from my mind. He went to class and he disappeared every other week on a random night, and he never brought it up.
Until today when I couldn’t stop myself- “Tim, we need to talk.” I blurted out.
He looked up from the article on porcupine population with a furrowed brow. “We are talking?”
“I meant about that night when you weren’t-”
“Oh! You mean my costume!” he laughed nervously. I stared at him with narrowed eyes. He shrank slightly, his smile nervous and shoulders tense. “Tia, I can’t talk about that.”
“And why not?” I cocked my head.
“I’m supposed to never talk about it. They’ll take my… um… you know… green card.” He whispered and the realization rolled over me. “So I was wearing a costume.”
I sighed, nodding slowly. “Yeah, it was an impressive costume.”
“You think so?” His face lit up bright as a light bulb. I laughed and motioned for him to continue reading the article. I sat back in my chair, watching his face as he went back to mouthing the words. I wanted to talk about it, but I also didn’t want to lose Tim. So it would be a costume. And we could continue to act like it never happened.
“But what do the porcupines actually do? What purpose do they serve?”
“Tim, not everything serves a purpose.”
“Then it’s useless.”
“Get out of my face, porcupine hater.”
“I do not hate them, I merely-”
“GET!” I huffed, shoving him away from my computer. “I have a paper to write and you have an entire species to apologize to.”
“For what I didn’t offend them. I am merely summarizing their existence is useless.” I shot him a look as he shrugged.
“And what do you think about humans? What purpose do we serve?”
“.... uh… well….”
“Yeah, go on, think on that one for a while.” I rolled my eyes as I went back to my paper. Comfortable silence filled the kitchen as I began to type away at my paper. Tim pouted, clearly stumped in his own vicious cycle of useless or useful. | "Hey uh... Have you seen the remote?"
"Which one?"
"Uh.. the t.v. remote?"
"Oh. That. I repurposed it for greater efficiently."
"I see... Can it still change the channel?"
"It can change personnel opinions."
"Right... I'll just read a book or something. Assuming you haven't repurposed those."
"Tree fiber is a primitive material." | |
[WP] Your roommate is obviously an alien trying to infiltrate humanity... but he pays the rent on time so you don't really care. | “Miss Rufus, Can I have a word?” Every. Single. Time. Every single time! He says something like this and I think it’s going to be the day he confesses. That he will turn to me and just let loose the truth. Alien. Go on, I know he can say it. But he never does. Despite my out spoken suspicions and PHYSICALLY SEEING HIM TRANSFORM… he plays this game with me.
“It’s Ruiz, Tim. For the thirteen hundredth time.” I swallowed hard, trying my best to keep calm. The biggest mistake was letting him watch my collection of classic dvd’s. His humor has become childish and full of bad puns. If I have to answer the “orange you glad I didn’t say banana” knock-knock joke one more time I might actually punch a fruit loop. And by fruit loop I mean Tim.
“That’s what I said, Rufus.” I snapped my head away from my laptop and watched him clam up. For a moment, there was true fear in his eyes. Then it fell away as I huffed and rolled my eyes. He began to snort and chuckle as he walked up to the kitchen table. “What is a porcupine?”
Damnit.
Every! SINGLE! TIME! He gets my hopes up then he crushes them with something stupid. Okay, to be fair, he doesn’t honestly know anything. So to him, wanting to know what a porcupine is, would not be a stupid question. And I actually do like teaching him things. My mother says teaching is in my blood, despite my desire to work in accounting. Educating is fun, and I love helping people… but there is no money in teaching and I’m broke. Accounting isn’t a passion, it’s a paycheck that I’m good at.
I pat my hand on the other dining room chair for Tim to take up. He eagerly bounces into it and slides it across the floor to sit next to me. I put my essay document away and pull up Google. Taking thirty minutes to explain porcupines is a good break away from an essay on why mental math is important in a world with calculators. Because we would start with images, then break down anatomy, which would always end in ‘What is the purpose of a porcupine?’.
Tim doesn’t quite understand earth yet. I suspect his society is only full of things that are useful. As anytime he is in the kitchen, I catch him trying to toss out my garlic press or my mini whisk. As I have a knife that I use to smash garlic sometimes and three other whisks, he says I don’t need the other two. They aren’t useful. Which is why I made signs and taped them on the cabinets and trash can- “Just because you don’t see it’s use, doesn’t mean there isn’t one!”
A lesson Tim is still learning.
I really should have known right off the bat that Tim was an alien. It was kind of obvious. I mean, who shows up to inquire about the roommate ad, holding the bulletin board from the college I put the sign up on. Like the whole 2 foot long bulletin board. Then “couldn’t remember” his name for a moment before telling me his name was ‘Tim… uh… well… Uhwell. Tim Uhwell.’
Yeah, sure it is. But he paid upfront and said that he was going to college for as much knowledge as he could. Something about parental units paying for the whole experience. At first I was distrustful of some trust fund child buying his way into my room and into my life. Until he started asking dumb things. Like how to make cereal, and how to eat ramen. Now I’ve met some sheltered people in my life- I’m a waitress at a local Italian restaurant, trust me when I say I’ve met some rich assholes. But this was something out of this world. I had to teach Tim EVERYTHING! Especially after I came home to him trying to get the toaster CPR. Or… maybe he was just kissing it for fun. Who knows.
I made it clear, if he didn’t know how to do it- He needed to ask. No more blowing up stuff on accident. I didn’t realize how many explosive things I owned until Tim moved in.
Three times I almost asked him to move out. First was after he used the window to leave instead of the door. One trip to the E.R. later, he apologized by buying us both late night fast food and ice-cream. I forgave him. Second was when I came home and heard screams from inside the bathroom. Found him sunk into the toilet bowl, ass first. Apparently he didn’t check for the seat and thought he was being murdered. After I explained to the cops that it was a stupid college prank and not to fine us for a noise disturbance, he bought pizza and apologized until i told him to stop. The third time, however, I walked into his room to give him a letter that arrived. Usually his door was open and he never had a thing for privacy. Four months with this guy and never once did I see him shut it or shy away from the open window when changing.
Then I brushed open the door to hand it to him and came face to face with him… but not Tim. Skin like an oil spill on the ocean, it reflected in the room lights as all his windows were covered in dark curtains. Shaped kind of like an octopus if they were bipeds and the rest of their tentacles were arms. Head moved like it were underwater and big dark green eyes. The size of my fists.
For a second I thought I was hallucinating. Late night studying, too much coffee, normal college problems. But then I blinked and he was still there. Staring at me. I dropped the letter and whipped around. My brain couldn’t process it at all. And so I stood in the kitchen, horrified. Inside my two bedroom apartment was an alien who paraded around as my roommate. I realized then I should I have known. No person, no matter how sheltered, could be that…
Tim returned, back in his skin, and looked apologetic. He didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to say. I thought of demanding he move out. I could not afford any other weird shit in my life. Until reality smacked me in the brain and wallet. I couldn’t afford this without him. Tim was always on time with rent, and he always picked up the tab if I was short. He went grocery shopping with me and picked up more than his fair share of the bill. Tim was so kind and generous, even if he was an alien.
I couldn’t afford to live without him.
So I didn’t say anything, and he didn’t say anything. And we didn’t say anything. I acted like it didn’t happen, and he acted like it never happened. And we acted like life was normal. I went to work and went to class and pushed it from my mind. He went to class and he disappeared every other week on a random night, and he never brought it up.
Until today when I couldn’t stop myself- “Tim, we need to talk.” I blurted out.
He looked up from the article on porcupine population with a furrowed brow. “We are talking?”
“I meant about that night when you weren’t-”
“Oh! You mean my costume!” he laughed nervously. I stared at him with narrowed eyes. He shrank slightly, his smile nervous and shoulders tense. “Tia, I can’t talk about that.”
“And why not?” I cocked my head.
“I’m supposed to never talk about it. They’ll take my… um… you know… green card.” He whispered and the realization rolled over me. “So I was wearing a costume.”
I sighed, nodding slowly. “Yeah, it was an impressive costume.”
“You think so?” His face lit up bright as a light bulb. I laughed and motioned for him to continue reading the article. I sat back in my chair, watching his face as he went back to mouthing the words. I wanted to talk about it, but I also didn’t want to lose Tim. So it would be a costume. And we could continue to act like it never happened.
“But what do the porcupines actually do? What purpose do they serve?”
“Tim, not everything serves a purpose.”
“Then it’s useless.”
“Get out of my face, porcupine hater.”
“I do not hate them, I merely-”
“GET!” I huffed, shoving him away from my computer. “I have a paper to write and you have an entire species to apologize to.”
“For what I didn’t offend them. I am merely summarizing their existence is useless.” I shot him a look as he shrugged.
“And what do you think about humans? What purpose do we serve?”
“.... uh… well….”
“Yeah, go on, think on that one for a while.” I rolled my eyes as I went back to my paper. Comfortable silence filled the kitchen as I began to type away at my paper. Tim pouted, clearly stumped in his own vicious cycle of useless or useful. | “Jay! I’m home!” I shout into the apartment tiredly as I shut the door behind me. I vaguely hear buzzing sounds from his room as I go to grab a sandwich or something from the fridge, only to find the entire fridge covered in pink ooze. Kyle sprints out of his room, quickly shutting the door behind him in a feeble attempt to hide the obvious blue glow coming from inside. I completely ignore this, of course.
“Dude, you gotta get rid of the pink stuff in here. That’s nasty. I’m not eating food with that all over it.” I tell him. He cocks his head and grabs a clipboard that was *somehow* inside his jacket.
“So you could see this one? Intriguing-“
*”This one?* Buddy, not okay. Don’t touch my food.” I shout. He slinks back- he hates when I shout at him. For some reason, raising my voice terrifies him. He just nods sadly and puts his clipboard away.
Let’s be very clear- I only put up with this guy because his concept of money is a little messed up, and he obviously has infinite of it.
He has $100 confused with $1000. If you ask for $1, he gives you $10. When I asked for his half of the rent the first time, he gave me 10 times that amount, and in cash! It’s pretty great. We’ve lived together for a year now, and I just ignore all of the signs. It’s great.
“What food have you not messed with?” I ask, calming down.
“I have not experimented with the food in the panty.” He says, trying to smile casually (completely failing, may I add.)
“The... pantry? Okay thanks.” I grab a box of cereal and head into my room. I hear a whirring sound the moment I close the door. I try to sit down and just eat my cereal, but it lasts a solid 10 minutes and it’s really creepy. Punching myself inwardly for giving in to the curiosity, I peek out the door to see Kyle, with some sort of vacuum-looking thing, just going after the fridge. He sees me, and again looks terrified. I yawn.
“G’night, dude.” He smiles.
“Good night, earthli- I mean, ‘friend.’” | |
[WP] Your roommate is obviously an alien trying to infiltrate humanity... but he pays the rent on time so you don't really care. | Thank god the electricity is covered under rent, because walking into his room is akin to walking into a globe of light.
Which is odd because i dont remember seeing anything in the mail about our rooms getting changed. The carpet that was there before vanished, and was replaced with a painfully bright white flooring. The walls in his room felt rather metallic compared to the traditional drywall of the rest of the apartment was made of, and had various tv screens seamlessly fixed into the walls.
The ceiling and most of the walls were entangled in a mass of rubbery black vines that went... everywhere... though they seemed to focus around a massive tank in the corner that I’ve occasionally seen filled with water, but right now it was empty.
And if that tank is empty then Chad must be on the other side of this massive cylindrical pipe tucked into the center of the back wall, with tendrils of tube lines feeding in and out of it through the roof and through the floor. Behind that sat a desk with six monitors a fixed around a circular desk. The thin monitors, each wider than my torso were curved like the desk as well, and played some stunning blue-ray quality programs. Chad lets us use one for movie night in the living room. Literally 4D.
On the desk, on top of a glass container with a big red button underneath was a white envelope with, supposedly my name written on in, but to me it only looked like sticks and rocks. He swears its an ancient language, I don’t even sweat it, because I know his part of this months rent is in it.
I grab the envelope and look at the words written in what looks like a black sharpie “do not touch.” It’s always there, and whenever Chad’s home I forget to ask what it does, he’s usually going on about his own problems anyway, I rarely get a word in. Always going on about “Calculations” this and “Harvesting” that, dudes got a tough job. I think he said it was military?
Leaving at 4a.m. to drive out to his base in the desert, and if he does come back within a day, its almost at the same time he left, but he tells me he likes his job so I don’t give him any sympathy for his rough days, he just has to adapt and grow stronger!
I get myself dressed as I get ready to leave myself. Only thing Chad every really asks of me is one night he needs the apartment to himself, and agreeing to pay for my night in advance, I plan to drop off the rent to our landlord, then give Chad the space he needs to unwind. He says once a month or so he just needs a day to refresh himself, and that his suit gets stuffy wearing it all the time. Totally reasonable.
| Goofy narrator: Have you ever had a bad roommate?
(Clip of Kevin James slipping on banana peel)
Goofy narrator: Not like this!
(Clip of a green David Spade drinking beer,)
David: what’s a guy gotta do around here to get the nuclear laugh codes?
Crowd: *laughter*
Goofy narrator: Coming this fall...Aliendsallhumanityattheendinahorriblegenocide
(Clip of Kevin James falling again)
| |
[WP] Your roommate is obviously an alien trying to infiltrate humanity... but he pays the rent on time so you don't really care. | My alarm was ringing loudly, it's 6:50 am. i woke up with a splitting headache, i couldn't get a decent sleep all night. the guys from the other room were having a party all night. it was only until 3'am this morning that they stopped shouting.
I looked over to Lissie's bed, she was sleeping soundly like an angel. i wonder how she was able to sleep through all of that when i actually feared they would bring the house down with their loud music. i looked over to the small table by my bed. there was an envelope there, i was shocked because it wasn't there the night before. when i opened it, it was loaded with cash, Lissie already dropped her own share of the rent. She was never late and though she had some really awkward behaviors, i would not be fooled into thinking she was an alien.
Aliens? yea right? i'm not a seven-year old who believes in those stuff. i just think she has some psychological disorder which makes her act strangely.
As i flipped through the money,( not like i was counting it, she was never a naira short, i just enjoyed the way new naira notes smelled. don't judge me, you have your own crazy habits too.) i saw she had left a piece of paper there, a note that read;
"Dear Oyin,
This is my share of the rent. thank you for your co-operation. you've accommodated me and also schooled me in your ways. though i can never understand why your kind gladly push things down their bodies through their mouth and call it 'food', or why you display your teeth and call it a 'smile', or why your eyes leak and you think it's normal, i'm grateful to have learnt. You've given us the necessary information we need to take over your species.
i would miss you, if only i knew what that means. that is another 'earthly thing' i cannot get, not in a million years. My kind will be fully present on your planet in 5hours. Brace yourself for impact.
by the way, just so you know. this letter would self destruct in 20 seconds. i've seen you run before, i know you suck at it. that's why i've added 10 extra seconds. see you on the other side, do surrender peacefuly. i will be glad to return the favor, accommodate you and school you in our ways".
Your co-habitant,
Lissie.
I was shocked, i turned to look at the 'angel' in bed but all i saw were remains of a body that was once Lissie's. i didn't know how much seconds i had left, all i remember is a touch and then blackout.
i opened my eyes, i was still alive, my alarm was ringing loudly. it was 7'am. i looked to the table by my side, there was an envelope there. i flipped through quickly, there was no letter from Lissie, only the exact amount for the rent. i looked over Lissie's bed, she was not there. Just then the door opened,
it was no alien, it was no monster but my beautiful room mate walking in with a tray. she had made pancakes for breakfast.
"you were really drunk last night, i knew you would be spent by this morning so i got up early to make you break fast, hope you like it, now get up and eat. you'd be late for class" Lissie winked at me.
I was right after all, there is no such thing as aliens. or is there?
guys, help me out. Was that a dream, or a secret message? | Goofy narrator: Have you ever had a bad roommate?
(Clip of Kevin James slipping on banana peel)
Goofy narrator: Not like this!
(Clip of a green David Spade drinking beer,)
David: what’s a guy gotta do around here to get the nuclear laugh codes?
Crowd: *laughter*
Goofy narrator: Coming this fall...Aliendsallhumanityattheendinahorriblegenocide
(Clip of Kevin James falling again)
| |
[WP] Your roommate is obviously an alien trying to infiltrate humanity... but he pays the rent on time so you don't really care. | The transmissions were the thing that got to Doug the most. Not the artificial features and strained expressions which placed his roommate firmly within the uncanny valley. Even the constant questions about the mundane were tolerable once he got used to it. After all, it didn’t take much effort to explain the purpose of an egg beater, and not much more to explain that the egg had done nothing in particular to deserve such treatment. It was the low hum that permeated the night. When all else was still, the hum filled Doug’s room, coming from all directions at once, demanding his attention. It was ironic, he thought, that his roommate’s choice of timing, which would seem to indicate an uncharacteristic discretion, served only to highlight his activities. As an artist would use lines to guide the viewer's gaze, the hum alerted the ears and guided them to the hushed clicks and groans emanating from the next room. He had no idea what language his roommate was speaking, but he was now certain that it was one. Lying awake every night between 2 and 3 am, he started to recognize patterns.
The nights had been almost unbearable at first, an unwelcome jolt from sleep, but over time, he came to accept the one true annoyance from his new roommate. Indeed, once he adapted his sleep pattern, and drowsiness no longer clouded his perspective, he counted his blessings that this one known grievance was the only thing he truly had against this newest occupant. After all, the guy last year was far more of an offense the other other senses. No, if he had to choose between a predictable hour of noise and the smell that used to waft through the hallway, he’d be firmly in the noise camp every time. It really wasn’t so bad, and the new roommate could be fun.
At the beginning of the summer, Doug had been told that his new boarder was merely an exchange student, but he quickly found peculiarities, or more accurately, obvious questions that Doug could not get answers to. For starters, his roommate had no name. Far from being shy about it, his roommate simply offered the explanation that he had no need of a designation. And he never ate. Doug was sure of it. He went as far as to keep a regular inventory on the food in the cupboards just to be sure. It didn’t take Doug terribly long to figure out that his roommate was an alien posing as human, and in Doug’s honest opinion, doing a pretty crap job of it.
But the revelation didn’t really bother Doug. His roommate was weird yes, but appeared to be in the same extraterrestrial threat category as A.L.F. and moon shoes. After monitoring the roommate, Doug had concluded that any purpose must be scientific. Maybe they were observing earth before offering admission into some kind of Galactic Federation. The possibilities ran endlessly through Doug’s head as he led his roommate through the city on weekends, taking in museums, concerts, restaurants, and an assortment of local events. Really, anything they could get to was fair game because his roommate always seemed to have enough money for the both of them. Doug recalled his companion’s complete ignorance of societal customs regarding cash, one time going so far as to hand a waiter a large stack of bills, asking him to remove whatever tip he deemed fair. As far as Doug was concerned, he would play E.T.’s travel agent as long as the money held out.
On the 4th of July, everything had proceeded normally. Doug, who at this point had to reign in his roommate’s liberal application of money to any vendor who approached them, had found the perfect spot on a hill to watch the fireworks. With time to spare, Doug sat down looking forward to quietly watching the sunset. His roommate sat beside him, fidgeting with a souvenir he had purchased earlier. Through the sunset, Doug had noticed the growing apprehension of his companion, but as the crowd filled in, Doug observed what passed for giddy anticipation return to his roommates face. Doug wondered if fireworks could be impressive to someone who has presumably been into the stars. They must be such feeble lights when compared to the gaseous stellar giants that could swallow the entire solar system. But no matter how small their display, his roommate had chosen this planet for a reason, so he must find a simple pleasure in these customs. The expectant look certainly didn’t betray any hint of boredom.
But when the first firework went off in the distance, everything about that look immediately changed. Doug realized quickly that the explosion was much too far off to be part of the show, it was merely someone with their own mortars trying to preempt the main event. Looking around, Doug realized that the actual blast couldn’t even be seen from their location. But upon turning back towards his companion, Doug realized his roommate had taken off running back towards their apartment. Taking after him, Doug had to run the entire half mile from the park back to their apartment with his roommate illuminated by the brilliant bursts of light and thunderous explosions. Doug tried to calm his agitated friend who by now was gathering everything he deemed valuable into his arms. Finally, as if completing a mental checklist of items he must have, he became aware that Doug was in the room. A flash of regret showed across his face as he surveyed Doug who seemed genuinely concerned for his well being. Informing Doug that he was terminating his tenancy effective immediately and offering only a fleeting apology, his roommate sprinted, items still in hand, past Doug and into the center of the street. Doug, realizing the date and remembering that his rent was the next day called after him from the door, “What about the rent? It’s due tomorrow!”
His roommate wore a look of confusion that turned to pity as he began to disappear into a beam of light. “Oh, I see you still think those are fireworks.” | Goofy narrator: Have you ever had a bad roommate?
(Clip of Kevin James slipping on banana peel)
Goofy narrator: Not like this!
(Clip of a green David Spade drinking beer,)
David: what’s a guy gotta do around here to get the nuclear laugh codes?
Crowd: *laughter*
Goofy narrator: Coming this fall...Aliendsallhumanityattheendinahorriblegenocide
(Clip of Kevin James falling again)
| |
[WP] Your roommate is obviously an alien trying to infiltrate humanity... but he pays the rent on time so you don't really care. | My alarm was ringing loudly, it's 6:50 am. i woke up with a splitting headache, i couldn't get a decent sleep all night. the guys from the other room were having a party all night. it was only until 3'am this morning that they stopped shouting.
I looked over to Lissie's bed, she was sleeping soundly like an angel. i wonder how she was able to sleep through all of that when i actually feared they would bring the house down with their loud music. i looked over to the small table by my bed. there was an envelope there, i was shocked because it wasn't there the night before. when i opened it, it was loaded with cash, Lissie already dropped her own share of the rent. She was never late and though she had some really awkward behaviors, i would not be fooled into thinking she was an alien.
Aliens? yea right? i'm not a seven-year old who believes in those stuff. i just think she has some psychological disorder which makes her act strangely.
As i flipped through the money,( not like i was counting it, she was never a naira short, i just enjoyed the way new naira notes smelled. don't judge me, you have your own crazy habits too.) i saw she had left a piece of paper there, a note that read;
"Dear Oyin,
This is my share of the rent. thank you for your co-operation. you've accommodated me and also schooled me in your ways. though i can never understand why your kind gladly push things down their bodies through their mouth and call it 'food', or why you display your teeth and call it a 'smile', or why your eyes leak and you think it's normal, i'm grateful to have learnt. You've given us the necessary information we need to take over your species.
i would miss you, if only i knew what that means. that is another 'earthly thing' i cannot get, not in a million years. My kind will be fully present on your planet in 5hours. Brace yourself for impact.
by the way, just so you know. this letter would self destruct in 20 seconds. i've seen you run before, i know you suck at it. that's why i've added 10 extra seconds. see you on the other side, do surrender peacefuly. i will be glad to return the favor, accommodate you and school you in our ways".
Your co-habitant,
Lissie.
I was shocked, i turned to look at the 'angel' in bed but all i saw were remains of a body that was once Lissie's. i didn't know how much seconds i had left, all i remember is a touch and then blackout.
i opened my eyes, i was still alive, my alarm was ringing loudly. it was 7'am. i looked to the table by my side, there was an envelope there. i flipped through quickly, there was no letter from Lissie, only the exact amount for the rent. i looked over Lissie's bed, she was not there. Just then the door opened,
it was no alien, it was no monster but my beautiful room mate walking in with a tray. she had made pancakes for breakfast.
"you were really drunk last night, i knew you would be spent by this morning so i got up early to make you break fast, hope you like it, now get up and eat. you'd be late for class" Lissie winked at me.
I was right after all, there is no such thing as aliens. or is there?
guys, help me out. Was that a dream, or a secret message? | I found Larry on Craigslist, his interests included studying animals and data collection. I figured he was just a studying veterinarian medicine. He showed up for the interview and that's when it got odd.
Me: Hi Larry, this is just a formality at this point, from the looks of it you'd be a wonderful roommate.
Larry: indeed, I have always wanted a Human roommate.
Me: Ha, yeah I guess animal roommates don't really clean up after themselves.
Larry: that's quite right hehe, my interest in local fauna is what drives me
Me: yes I read you like animals and "data collection"
Larry: yes it's part of my mission here.
Me: Oh so you aren't from here?
Larry: you could say that I'm from France
Me: Oh that's nice, I didn't think Smith was a French last name.
Larry: I guess it isn't,
He muttered something under his breath. Clearly he was a weird guy but he did present first and last months rent plus the security deposit. Works for me.
Edit: data collection | |
[WP] Your roommate is obviously an alien trying to infiltrate humanity... but he pays the rent on time so you don't really care. | I finally mustered the courage to ask my roomie Zuck what he does for a living.
“A consultant.” He says succinctly.
“Yeah, and I’m an alien trying to infiltrate humanity!”
I say grinning.
He gives me a stern look and hands me an envelope with his half of the rent.
Cash. Always cash. What kind of consultant is this guy.
I start counting the money. I have no idea where someone can get so many $2 bills. $862 dollars worth.
Halfway through the stack of deuces, I find a to do list with one thing written in Zuck’s handwriting.
“Infiltrate Humanity”
A check mark next to it.
All sorts of Alex Jones theories run through my head.
What if...
After 20 seconds I crumple the list and toss it.
I wonder if he knows if the Earth is flat or not.
I’ll just ask him next month I suppose.
-end | *cheesy sitcom return theme comes on* “so John what’ve you been up to today?”
“Just normal human stuff, like dirtying the dishes and carrying the dog on a walk.”
“John you know you did both of those backwards?”
“Oh. Now I know. By the way you got a call from the mothership? Something about mission status.” | |
[WP] Your roommate is obviously an alien trying to infiltrate humanity... but he pays the rent on time so you don't really care. | The transmissions were the thing that got to Doug the most. Not the artificial features and strained expressions which placed his roommate firmly within the uncanny valley. Even the constant questions about the mundane were tolerable once he got used to it. After all, it didn’t take much effort to explain the purpose of an egg beater, and not much more to explain that the egg had done nothing in particular to deserve such treatment. It was the low hum that permeated the night. When all else was still, the hum filled Doug’s room, coming from all directions at once, demanding his attention. It was ironic, he thought, that his roommate’s choice of timing, which would seem to indicate an uncharacteristic discretion, served only to highlight his activities. As an artist would use lines to guide the viewer's gaze, the hum alerted the ears and guided them to the hushed clicks and groans emanating from the next room. He had no idea what language his roommate was speaking, but he was now certain that it was one. Lying awake every night between 2 and 3 am, he started to recognize patterns.
The nights had been almost unbearable at first, an unwelcome jolt from sleep, but over time, he came to accept the one true annoyance from his new roommate. Indeed, once he adapted his sleep pattern, and drowsiness no longer clouded his perspective, he counted his blessings that this one known grievance was the only thing he truly had against this newest occupant. After all, the guy last year was far more of an offense the other other senses. No, if he had to choose between a predictable hour of noise and the smell that used to waft through the hallway, he’d be firmly in the noise camp every time. It really wasn’t so bad, and the new roommate could be fun.
At the beginning of the summer, Doug had been told that his new boarder was merely an exchange student, but he quickly found peculiarities, or more accurately, obvious questions that Doug could not get answers to. For starters, his roommate had no name. Far from being shy about it, his roommate simply offered the explanation that he had no need of a designation. And he never ate. Doug was sure of it. He went as far as to keep a regular inventory on the food in the cupboards just to be sure. It didn’t take Doug terribly long to figure out that his roommate was an alien posing as human, and in Doug’s honest opinion, doing a pretty crap job of it.
But the revelation didn’t really bother Doug. His roommate was weird yes, but appeared to be in the same extraterrestrial threat category as A.L.F. and moon shoes. After monitoring the roommate, Doug had concluded that any purpose must be scientific. Maybe they were observing earth before offering admission into some kind of Galactic Federation. The possibilities ran endlessly through Doug’s head as he led his roommate through the city on weekends, taking in museums, concerts, restaurants, and an assortment of local events. Really, anything they could get to was fair game because his roommate always seemed to have enough money for the both of them. Doug recalled his companion’s complete ignorance of societal customs regarding cash, one time going so far as to hand a waiter a large stack of bills, asking him to remove whatever tip he deemed fair. As far as Doug was concerned, he would play E.T.’s travel agent as long as the money held out.
On the 4th of July, everything had proceeded normally. Doug, who at this point had to reign in his roommate’s liberal application of money to any vendor who approached them, had found the perfect spot on a hill to watch the fireworks. With time to spare, Doug sat down looking forward to quietly watching the sunset. His roommate sat beside him, fidgeting with a souvenir he had purchased earlier. Through the sunset, Doug had noticed the growing apprehension of his companion, but as the crowd filled in, Doug observed what passed for giddy anticipation return to his roommates face. Doug wondered if fireworks could be impressive to someone who has presumably been into the stars. They must be such feeble lights when compared to the gaseous stellar giants that could swallow the entire solar system. But no matter how small their display, his roommate had chosen this planet for a reason, so he must find a simple pleasure in these customs. The expectant look certainly didn’t betray any hint of boredom.
But when the first firework went off in the distance, everything about that look immediately changed. Doug realized quickly that the explosion was much too far off to be part of the show, it was merely someone with their own mortars trying to preempt the main event. Looking around, Doug realized that the actual blast couldn’t even be seen from their location. But upon turning back towards his companion, Doug realized his roommate had taken off running back towards their apartment. Taking after him, Doug had to run the entire half mile from the park back to their apartment with his roommate illuminated by the brilliant bursts of light and thunderous explosions. Doug tried to calm his agitated friend who by now was gathering everything he deemed valuable into his arms. Finally, as if completing a mental checklist of items he must have, he became aware that Doug was in the room. A flash of regret showed across his face as he surveyed Doug who seemed genuinely concerned for his well being. Informing Doug that he was terminating his tenancy effective immediately and offering only a fleeting apology, his roommate sprinted, items still in hand, past Doug and into the center of the street. Doug, realizing the date and remembering that his rent was the next day called after him from the door, “What about the rent? It’s due tomorrow!”
His roommate wore a look of confusion that turned to pity as he began to disappear into a beam of light. “Oh, I see you still think those are fireworks.” | *cheesy sitcom return theme comes on* “so John what’ve you been up to today?”
“Just normal human stuff, like dirtying the dishes and carrying the dog on a walk.”
“John you know you did both of those backwards?”
“Oh. Now I know. By the way you got a call from the mothership? Something about mission status.” | |
[WP] Your roommate is obviously an alien trying to infiltrate humanity... but he pays the rent on time so you don't really care. | The transmissions were the thing that got to Doug the most. Not the artificial features and strained expressions which placed his roommate firmly within the uncanny valley. Even the constant questions about the mundane were tolerable once he got used to it. After all, it didn’t take much effort to explain the purpose of an egg beater, and not much more to explain that the egg had done nothing in particular to deserve such treatment. It was the low hum that permeated the night. When all else was still, the hum filled Doug’s room, coming from all directions at once, demanding his attention. It was ironic, he thought, that his roommate’s choice of timing, which would seem to indicate an uncharacteristic discretion, served only to highlight his activities. As an artist would use lines to guide the viewer's gaze, the hum alerted the ears and guided them to the hushed clicks and groans emanating from the next room. He had no idea what language his roommate was speaking, but he was now certain that it was one. Lying awake every night between 2 and 3 am, he started to recognize patterns.
The nights had been almost unbearable at first, an unwelcome jolt from sleep, but over time, he came to accept the one true annoyance from his new roommate. Indeed, once he adapted his sleep pattern, and drowsiness no longer clouded his perspective, he counted his blessings that this one known grievance was the only thing he truly had against this newest occupant. After all, the guy last year was far more of an offense the other other senses. No, if he had to choose between a predictable hour of noise and the smell that used to waft through the hallway, he’d be firmly in the noise camp every time. It really wasn’t so bad, and the new roommate could be fun.
At the beginning of the summer, Doug had been told that his new boarder was merely an exchange student, but he quickly found peculiarities, or more accurately, obvious questions that Doug could not get answers to. For starters, his roommate had no name. Far from being shy about it, his roommate simply offered the explanation that he had no need of a designation. And he never ate. Doug was sure of it. He went as far as to keep a regular inventory on the food in the cupboards just to be sure. It didn’t take Doug terribly long to figure out that his roommate was an alien posing as human, and in Doug’s honest opinion, doing a pretty crap job of it.
But the revelation didn’t really bother Doug. His roommate was weird yes, but appeared to be in the same extraterrestrial threat category as A.L.F. and moon shoes. After monitoring the roommate, Doug had concluded that any purpose must be scientific. Maybe they were observing earth before offering admission into some kind of Galactic Federation. The possibilities ran endlessly through Doug’s head as he led his roommate through the city on weekends, taking in museums, concerts, restaurants, and an assortment of local events. Really, anything they could get to was fair game because his roommate always seemed to have enough money for the both of them. Doug recalled his companion’s complete ignorance of societal customs regarding cash, one time going so far as to hand a waiter a large stack of bills, asking him to remove whatever tip he deemed fair. As far as Doug was concerned, he would play E.T.’s travel agent as long as the money held out.
On the 4th of July, everything had proceeded normally. Doug, who at this point had to reign in his roommate’s liberal application of money to any vendor who approached them, had found the perfect spot on a hill to watch the fireworks. With time to spare, Doug sat down looking forward to quietly watching the sunset. His roommate sat beside him, fidgeting with a souvenir he had purchased earlier. Through the sunset, Doug had noticed the growing apprehension of his companion, but as the crowd filled in, Doug observed what passed for giddy anticipation return to his roommates face. Doug wondered if fireworks could be impressive to someone who has presumably been into the stars. They must be such feeble lights when compared to the gaseous stellar giants that could swallow the entire solar system. But no matter how small their display, his roommate had chosen this planet for a reason, so he must find a simple pleasure in these customs. The expectant look certainly didn’t betray any hint of boredom.
But when the first firework went off in the distance, everything about that look immediately changed. Doug realized quickly that the explosion was much too far off to be part of the show, it was merely someone with their own mortars trying to preempt the main event. Looking around, Doug realized that the actual blast couldn’t even be seen from their location. But upon turning back towards his companion, Doug realized his roommate had taken off running back towards their apartment. Taking after him, Doug had to run the entire half mile from the park back to their apartment with his roommate illuminated by the brilliant bursts of light and thunderous explosions. Doug tried to calm his agitated friend who by now was gathering everything he deemed valuable into his arms. Finally, as if completing a mental checklist of items he must have, he became aware that Doug was in the room. A flash of regret showed across his face as he surveyed Doug who seemed genuinely concerned for his well being. Informing Doug that he was terminating his tenancy effective immediately and offering only a fleeting apology, his roommate sprinted, items still in hand, past Doug and into the center of the street. Doug, realizing the date and remembering that his rent was the next day called after him from the door, “What about the rent? It’s due tomorrow!”
His roommate wore a look of confusion that turned to pity as he began to disappear into a beam of light. “Oh, I see you still think those are fireworks.” | I finally mustered the courage to ask my roomie Zuck what he does for a living.
“A consultant.” He says succinctly.
“Yeah, and I’m an alien trying to infiltrate humanity!”
I say grinning.
He gives me a stern look and hands me an envelope with his half of the rent.
Cash. Always cash. What kind of consultant is this guy.
I start counting the money. I have no idea where someone can get so many $2 bills. $862 dollars worth.
Halfway through the stack of deuces, I find a to do list with one thing written in Zuck’s handwriting.
“Infiltrate Humanity”
A check mark next to it.
All sorts of Alex Jones theories run through my head.
What if...
After 20 seconds I crumple the list and toss it.
I wonder if he knows if the Earth is flat or not.
I’ll just ask him next month I suppose.
-end | |
[WP] Your roommate is obviously an alien trying to infiltrate humanity... but he pays the rent on time so you don't really care. | The first thing Al did to me was put his mouth over my nose so he could jam his tongue up one of my nostrils. No, "Hello," no, "Hey, do you mind if I nose-rape you?", no anything. I was displeased and about to throw him out when he said, "Now that our customary exchange of microbes is complete, let's get down to brass ticks. I have here what I believe is the correct number of Ham-ul-tens in order to create a mutually-beneficial co-habitational relationship between us."
And to be fair, he was far from the weirdest person I'd met on Craigslist. Plus, I knew what his deal was, you know? Like, I had one roommate who would just watch me. Silent, slack-faced, empty-eyed staring. Sometimes I would look back, try to shame him into breaking eye contact, and he would...not. My friends and I used to try to come up with descriptions of what his secret was. I always assumed it was some spot no one knew about - a murder basement, or an arson shed, or something.
Anyway, like I said, I knew what Al's deal was. I think I figured it out before he actually gave me his full name, but the fact that he gave his name as Al E. Ng didn't do him any favors. He was grinning so much as he said it, too, and I know he wanted to wink at me, because he said "Wink" and then cocked his head to one side but didn't actually do anything with his eyelids.
Al is also terrible about covering his tracks...and lacks any kind of basic understanding of how stealth works. He likes to say "Because I am such a huge fan of Gee-or-gee Clinton and his Parliament of Funkadelics, I am going to go to the 'mother ship' now. But not a real mother ship, of course. Wink."
I followed him once. It was...not a nice ship, to be honest. Like, I don't know what the inter-stellar equivalent is of my uncle's Pontiac, but I'm pretty sure they had it. It smelled awful and there were empty Ritz-bits packages all over the place and so I just went home to watch Netflix.
Every few months I tell him that the landlord raised the rent again and he gets me another stack of cash. By the end of the year, I should have enough to put a down payment on a condo across town...assuming Al and his buddies haven't destroyed Earth by then.
***
/r/ShadowsofClouds | "Hey, Kyle."
"Hey, Doug, how's it going?"
"Not much, man. You?"
"Uh...not much, not much." I looked at him closely, but Doug didn't notice; he was busy digging into a tuna sandwich. "Classes go alright?"
"None today, so it went excellently." He laughed at his own bad joke. A desperately forced laugh, I thought. "You just came back from calc?"
"Yeah. This stuff is hard; all of it just goes over my head," I complained.
"Really? Thought it would be simple for you; you're like a math genius, aren't you?"
"What? Who told you that?" I snapped, and then strained to even out my temper. "I mean, I'm a genius at nothing. Just trying to get by." I yawned, hopefully convincingly.
"Tired, huh? I noticed you were up late last night."
I widened my eyes, but kept my voice steady. "Yeah, uh...lot of work to do. Midterms coming up, y'know. Hey, I gotta get this phone call, talk to you in a bit." I waved my phone screen at him briefly before running out of the dorm.
"Something to report?"
"It's my roommate again, sir," I whispered, phone glued to my ear. "I really think he *knows*. I mean, he's good at pretending, but I think--"
"Kylixiixo-12, don't be an idiot," the gruff voice in my ear intoned. "You're paying the rent and bills, and you've become fluent in their guttural, meat-flap language. He knows nothing. Just focus on your mission. Speaking of which..."
I groaned inwardly but nodded. Stupid Earth habit I couldn't shake off. "Don't worry, sir. I've already initiated Phase 1. I put the nanobot bolus into his tuna sandwich."
"Excellent. Frankly, I don't understand why you're so concerned - it won't matter in a few days; he will be under our control soon."
"And once this preliminary test is complete, all of humanity shall follow."
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
Liked that? [More stories here!](https://www.reddit.com/r/Idreamofdragons/) | |
[WP] Your roommate is obviously an alien trying to infiltrate humanity... but he pays the rent on time so you don't really care. | Walking up the stairs to my flat, I heard an odd, but consistent, thrum. It almost sounded like an engine. I thought about pushing the front door open, exposing whatever it was that my roommate, John Hugh Mann, was up to. However, it was a long day, and frankly, I didn't want the extra baggage of knowing whatever weird or invasive experiment he was running.
Rather than opening the door, I sighed, and knocked very loudly and calmly. "Hey John, I forgot my keys, could you get the door?" I asked, feigning frustration as I tucked my keys back into my pocket.
The thrum had abruptly stopped, I heard some odd squealing sound, and lastly, John replied, "Sure thing dood, Just a sec!" He spoke frantically and I heard shuffling around. I rolled my eyes, of course.
After a minute, John answered the door. "What's up, dood?" He asked, behaving as non chalauntly as a cybernetic alien could while hiding under the skin of a man that, I hoped, had already expired naturally before giving his skin over to John.
"Not much. Long day." I said, completely uninterested.
"Oh yeah, me too! Lots studying for the exam on Monday!" He spoke confidently, obviously comfortable that his ruse had fooled me once again.
"No classes Monday, man. Labor day." I said, beginning to shuffle through the mail that John had placed on the kitchen counter.
"Oh of course! What labor will we be performing?" John asked eagerly, wanting to participate in human culture.
"Look man, I'm leaving town for the weekend, and classes don't start til Tuesday. So you'll be on your own for four days." I didn't feel bad blowing him off, because for one, he was a *fucking alien*, and two, he didn't actually care to spend time with me. For him, it was all about blending in and pretending to be social.
The dude was on Earth to collect as much info on humanity as he could to create an assessment for if and when his kind decided to invade. Of course, they'd do it under a similar disguise as Johns. Unfortunately for them, they thought his disguise was bullet proof since I hadn't wised up to it.
John suddenly got serious. "If you are gone for four days for your labor, would you be alright if I had a party?"
He'd gotten my attention. "How many people are we talking?" I asked, continuing to flip through the mail without looking at it.
"Thirty one. Maybe fifty seven." He said, nervously.
I bit my lip. The *only* reason I put up with him was because he paid his rent and did all his weird and creepy shit behind my back. Inviting that many "people" over could ruin my chances at getting my deposit back.
I nodded, then said "No."
John wasn't too thrilled about that. "It's a study group. I need this for the exam on Monday." He pleaded.
Again, uninterested, I replied, "No classes on Monday, amigo."
John slammed his fist on the counter top suddenly, denting the marble.
I stiffled my terrified shiver and said, "Fine. Have people over, just enjoy yourself, John." I patted his arm and he smiled, unnaturally. "Listen, I forgot my wallet at work, I'll be back in a bit." I said, grabbing my coat. Son of a bitch was going to get my deposit taken away.
"See you later, dood!" John waved, staring at me until I closed the door behind me. As soon as I did, I heard the thrum and a squeal once again as he got back to work.
Sliding on my coat as I hustled down the stairs, I dialed the local FBI field office.
"Hi! Hello! Look, this is gonna sound nuts, but I'm pretty sure my roomate is building pipe bombs in our flat." | "Hey, Kyle."
"Hey, Doug, how's it going?"
"Not much, man. You?"
"Uh...not much, not much." I looked at him closely, but Doug didn't notice; he was busy digging into a tuna sandwich. "Classes go alright?"
"None today, so it went excellently." He laughed at his own bad joke. A desperately forced laugh, I thought. "You just came back from calc?"
"Yeah. This stuff is hard; all of it just goes over my head," I complained.
"Really? Thought it would be simple for you; you're like a math genius, aren't you?"
"What? Who told you that?" I snapped, and then strained to even out my temper. "I mean, I'm a genius at nothing. Just trying to get by." I yawned, hopefully convincingly.
"Tired, huh? I noticed you were up late last night."
I widened my eyes, but kept my voice steady. "Yeah, uh...lot of work to do. Midterms coming up, y'know. Hey, I gotta get this phone call, talk to you in a bit." I waved my phone screen at him briefly before running out of the dorm.
"Something to report?"
"It's my roommate again, sir," I whispered, phone glued to my ear. "I really think he *knows*. I mean, he's good at pretending, but I think--"
"Kylixiixo-12, don't be an idiot," the gruff voice in my ear intoned. "You're paying the rent and bills, and you've become fluent in their guttural, meat-flap language. He knows nothing. Just focus on your mission. Speaking of which..."
I groaned inwardly but nodded. Stupid Earth habit I couldn't shake off. "Don't worry, sir. I've already initiated Phase 1. I put the nanobot bolus into his tuna sandwich."
"Excellent. Frankly, I don't understand why you're so concerned - it won't matter in a few days; he will be under our control soon."
"And once this preliminary test is complete, all of humanity shall follow."
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
Liked that? [More stories here!](https://www.reddit.com/r/Idreamofdragons/) | |
[WP] Your roommate is obviously an alien trying to infiltrate humanity... but he pays the rent on time so you don't really care. | "So, I'm going to a party tonight if you want to come" I said as I walked into the kitchen to see Chad Chadson, my newest flatmate sitting backwards in a chair.
"Will there be any world leaders or important pillars of the human community?" he asked.
"Possibly"
"I will bring edibles" he began, "fish eggs and the flesh of immature house cattle"
Nodding, I focused on the ground and responded "yeah, I think crisps and some beer will probably go better, but it's good that you're offering to spice things up a bit"
"Pepper"
"Right, so anyways, we're going to get going around 5. I can drive us both there..." I began, turning away from the kitchen.
"I will arrange my own form of transport" he said as I felt a blast of energy at my back and a light which illuminated the hallway in front of me.
I turned back around and Chad was gone.
"CALL ME. NOW." The text message from Maria read.
"Shit...." I whispered as I pressed the green button and the phone began to ring. "Hey, what's up?"
"Your flatmate broke into my house, somehow, and is running around my kitchen slapping pieces of meat on various items and screaming 'engage thermals', dude, I told you that he could only come if you stayed by him the entire time, and I said nothing about him arriving four hours early, alone, and breaking the fuck in!"
"THERMAL ENGAGE!" Chad screamed in the background as he put the veal on Admiral McKenzie, the flat cat.
"Though to be fair, he also seems to have upgraded by fridge, so kudos for that." Maria added.
"Let me talk to him" I said. "Hey, Chad, listen buddy, it's not time for the party, can you just come back here and..."
"WHAT THE FUCK!" Maria shouted and dropped the phone as Chad materialised in the room with me.
"Where is the thermal engager?" Chad asked.
"Right, the stove, come over here, grab a frying pan, you know, this, this thing, add some butter"
"Cattle froth"
"Butter...., some rosemary, lightly flour the veal, place it in like this, sprinkle some salt and pepper"
"MY NASAL AIR IS UNDER ATTACK"
"That's just the pepper buddy, let's just cook this for 3-4 minutes on each side, like that, right, then we just add some more pep..."
"NO"
"It's not necessary to do that, you're right, let's add in some white wine, let it evaporate for 3 to four more minutes, throw in some cherry tomatoes, some mozzarella cheese"
"Cattle clumps"
"Cheese.... two more minutes... almost there.... Now we put it on the plate, and pour on the juices.... and a bit of basil for show! See, all done!"
"See, all done! Now we are ready to engage in human festivities"
"Let's just put this in the fridge for a bit, and let it cool down and"
"ENGAGE COOLING SYSTEMS" he screamed as he threw the veal at the washing machine.
"Ex... exactly. Great. Well, I'll see you later for the party"
"HERE ARE MORE EARTH CREDITS"
"Thanks... thanks buddy"
| "Hey, Kyle."
"Hey, Doug, how's it going?"
"Not much, man. You?"
"Uh...not much, not much." I looked at him closely, but Doug didn't notice; he was busy digging into a tuna sandwich. "Classes go alright?"
"None today, so it went excellently." He laughed at his own bad joke. A desperately forced laugh, I thought. "You just came back from calc?"
"Yeah. This stuff is hard; all of it just goes over my head," I complained.
"Really? Thought it would be simple for you; you're like a math genius, aren't you?"
"What? Who told you that?" I snapped, and then strained to even out my temper. "I mean, I'm a genius at nothing. Just trying to get by." I yawned, hopefully convincingly.
"Tired, huh? I noticed you were up late last night."
I widened my eyes, but kept my voice steady. "Yeah, uh...lot of work to do. Midterms coming up, y'know. Hey, I gotta get this phone call, talk to you in a bit." I waved my phone screen at him briefly before running out of the dorm.
"Something to report?"
"It's my roommate again, sir," I whispered, phone glued to my ear. "I really think he *knows*. I mean, he's good at pretending, but I think--"
"Kylixiixo-12, don't be an idiot," the gruff voice in my ear intoned. "You're paying the rent and bills, and you've become fluent in their guttural, meat-flap language. He knows nothing. Just focus on your mission. Speaking of which..."
I groaned inwardly but nodded. Stupid Earth habit I couldn't shake off. "Don't worry, sir. I've already initiated Phase 1. I put the nanobot bolus into his tuna sandwich."
"Excellent. Frankly, I don't understand why you're so concerned - it won't matter in a few days; he will be under our control soon."
"And once this preliminary test is complete, all of humanity shall follow."
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
Liked that? [More stories here!](https://www.reddit.com/r/Idreamofdragons/) | |
[WP] Your roommate is obviously an alien trying to infiltrate humanity... but he pays the rent on time so you don't really care. | Walking up the stairs to my flat, I heard an odd, but consistent, thrum. It almost sounded like an engine. I thought about pushing the front door open, exposing whatever it was that my roommate, John Hugh Mann, was up to. However, it was a long day, and frankly, I didn't want the extra baggage of knowing whatever weird or invasive experiment he was running.
Rather than opening the door, I sighed, and knocked very loudly and calmly. "Hey John, I forgot my keys, could you get the door?" I asked, feigning frustration as I tucked my keys back into my pocket.
The thrum had abruptly stopped, I heard some odd squealing sound, and lastly, John replied, "Sure thing dood, Just a sec!" He spoke frantically and I heard shuffling around. I rolled my eyes, of course.
After a minute, John answered the door. "What's up, dood?" He asked, behaving as non chalauntly as a cybernetic alien could while hiding under the skin of a man that, I hoped, had already expired naturally before giving his skin over to John.
"Not much. Long day." I said, completely uninterested.
"Oh yeah, me too! Lots studying for the exam on Monday!" He spoke confidently, obviously comfortable that his ruse had fooled me once again.
"No classes Monday, man. Labor day." I said, beginning to shuffle through the mail that John had placed on the kitchen counter.
"Oh of course! What labor will we be performing?" John asked eagerly, wanting to participate in human culture.
"Look man, I'm leaving town for the weekend, and classes don't start til Tuesday. So you'll be on your own for four days." I didn't feel bad blowing him off, because for one, he was a *fucking alien*, and two, he didn't actually care to spend time with me. For him, it was all about blending in and pretending to be social.
The dude was on Earth to collect as much info on humanity as he could to create an assessment for if and when his kind decided to invade. Of course, they'd do it under a similar disguise as Johns. Unfortunately for them, they thought his disguise was bullet proof since I hadn't wised up to it.
John suddenly got serious. "If you are gone for four days for your labor, would you be alright if I had a party?"
He'd gotten my attention. "How many people are we talking?" I asked, continuing to flip through the mail without looking at it.
"Thirty one. Maybe fifty seven." He said, nervously.
I bit my lip. The *only* reason I put up with him was because he paid his rent and did all his weird and creepy shit behind my back. Inviting that many "people" over could ruin my chances at getting my deposit back.
I nodded, then said "No."
John wasn't too thrilled about that. "It's a study group. I need this for the exam on Monday." He pleaded.
Again, uninterested, I replied, "No classes on Monday, amigo."
John slammed his fist on the counter top suddenly, denting the marble.
I stiffled my terrified shiver and said, "Fine. Have people over, just enjoy yourself, John." I patted his arm and he smiled, unnaturally. "Listen, I forgot my wallet at work, I'll be back in a bit." I said, grabbing my coat. Son of a bitch was going to get my deposit taken away.
"See you later, dood!" John waved, staring at me until I closed the door behind me. As soon as I did, I heard the thrum and a squeal once again as he got back to work.
Sliding on my coat as I hustled down the stairs, I dialed the local FBI field office.
"Hi! Hello! Look, this is gonna sound nuts, but I'm pretty sure my roomate is building pipe bombs in our flat." | "Hey, Dad," I said after opening the door.
"Morning, Tim. How are things?"
"Great." I stepped through the door. "So for lunch, I was thinking-"
"Whoa, hold on," he said, laughing as he stopped me. "When do I get to meet this new roommate of yours?"
"Oh... I think he's busy."
"Timothy," a monotone voice said from inside the apartment. "I require assistance with the H2O dispenser unit."
I cleared my throat and took a step back. "Well, I... I guess you can meet him now. Just a heads up that he's a little unique."
"Don't worry, Tim," he said with a laugh. "I had a couple college roommates who were more than a little... um..."
He trailed off at the sight of my roommate holding a cat in the kitchen sink.
"Dad, meet my roommate, Muhammad."
"Muhammad Smith," he said, extending a hand for a handshake.
"Nice to uh... meet you, Muhammad." He reluctantly reached out and shook the young man's hand which was still dripping wet and covered in cat hair. "That's an interesting name. Very... unique."
"To the contrary. They are the most common names on Earth."
My dad nodded politely. "I suppose they are. It's just not a name you hear too often here in Wisconsin. Especially not from a gentleman who is... Hispanic."
"Yes, but I am a Human of Earth."
"Citizen of the World," I interjected. "Citizen of the World was the phrase that we practiced... the phrase he meant to say, I mean."
"Well that's great," my dad said. "So, uh, washing your pet I see."
"This creature is not subservient to me. I located him outside of this edifice near our waste disposal bins."
"I see," my Dad said, wiping his hand on his jeans.
"I seek to understand more regarding how Earth animals react to H2O."
"Animals," I muttered. "Not Earth animals... just animals."
"With time, perhaps you will understand what it means to be subservient to another species the way you expect this Earth feline to -"
"Well, Muhammad, I'm glad you guys got to meet," I said. "But we have to take off. I'll touch bases with you later."
"I shall be here, Timothy."
As I shut the door to my apartment, my Dad stopped me. "Listen, Tim. I'm glad you were able to find another roommate. Really, I am. I know that break-up was difficult on you and companionship is always great. But I just want to make sure you're not rushing into any-"
"Timothy." Muhammad burst through the apartment door, exposing a face covered in claw marks. "The Earth feline has become bellicose. I must run further experiments. When you return, bring me enough sustenance for this animal for at least 150 Earth days."
The door slammed shut.
"So, where were you thinking for lunch?" I asked. | |
[WP] Your roommate is obviously an alien trying to infiltrate humanity... but he pays the rent on time so you don't really care. | "So, I'm going to a party tonight if you want to come" I said as I walked into the kitchen to see Chad Chadson, my newest flatmate sitting backwards in a chair.
"Will there be any world leaders or important pillars of the human community?" he asked.
"Possibly"
"I will bring edibles" he began, "fish eggs and the flesh of immature house cattle"
Nodding, I focused on the ground and responded "yeah, I think crisps and some beer will probably go better, but it's good that you're offering to spice things up a bit"
"Pepper"
"Right, so anyways, we're going to get going around 5. I can drive us both there..." I began, turning away from the kitchen.
"I will arrange my own form of transport" he said as I felt a blast of energy at my back and a light which illuminated the hallway in front of me.
I turned back around and Chad was gone.
"CALL ME. NOW." The text message from Maria read.
"Shit...." I whispered as I pressed the green button and the phone began to ring. "Hey, what's up?"
"Your flatmate broke into my house, somehow, and is running around my kitchen slapping pieces of meat on various items and screaming 'engage thermals', dude, I told you that he could only come if you stayed by him the entire time, and I said nothing about him arriving four hours early, alone, and breaking the fuck in!"
"THERMAL ENGAGE!" Chad screamed in the background as he put the veal on Admiral McKenzie, the flat cat.
"Though to be fair, he also seems to have upgraded by fridge, so kudos for that." Maria added.
"Let me talk to him" I said. "Hey, Chad, listen buddy, it's not time for the party, can you just come back here and..."
"WHAT THE FUCK!" Maria shouted and dropped the phone as Chad materialised in the room with me.
"Where is the thermal engager?" Chad asked.
"Right, the stove, come over here, grab a frying pan, you know, this, this thing, add some butter"
"Cattle froth"
"Butter...., some rosemary, lightly flour the veal, place it in like this, sprinkle some salt and pepper"
"MY NASAL AIR IS UNDER ATTACK"
"That's just the pepper buddy, let's just cook this for 3-4 minutes on each side, like that, right, then we just add some more pep..."
"NO"
"It's not necessary to do that, you're right, let's add in some white wine, let it evaporate for 3 to four more minutes, throw in some cherry tomatoes, some mozzarella cheese"
"Cattle clumps"
"Cheese.... two more minutes... almost there.... Now we put it on the plate, and pour on the juices.... and a bit of basil for show! See, all done!"
"See, all done! Now we are ready to engage in human festivities"
"Let's just put this in the fridge for a bit, and let it cool down and"
"ENGAGE COOLING SYSTEMS" he screamed as he threw the veal at the washing machine.
"Ex... exactly. Great. Well, I'll see you later for the party"
"HERE ARE MORE EARTH CREDITS"
"Thanks... thanks buddy"
| "Hey, Dad," I said after opening the door.
"Morning, Tim. How are things?"
"Great." I stepped through the door. "So for lunch, I was thinking-"
"Whoa, hold on," he said, laughing as he stopped me. "When do I get to meet this new roommate of yours?"
"Oh... I think he's busy."
"Timothy," a monotone voice said from inside the apartment. "I require assistance with the H2O dispenser unit."
I cleared my throat and took a step back. "Well, I... I guess you can meet him now. Just a heads up that he's a little unique."
"Don't worry, Tim," he said with a laugh. "I had a couple college roommates who were more than a little... um..."
He trailed off at the sight of my roommate holding a cat in the kitchen sink.
"Dad, meet my roommate, Muhammad."
"Muhammad Smith," he said, extending a hand for a handshake.
"Nice to uh... meet you, Muhammad." He reluctantly reached out and shook the young man's hand which was still dripping wet and covered in cat hair. "That's an interesting name. Very... unique."
"To the contrary. They are the most common names on Earth."
My dad nodded politely. "I suppose they are. It's just not a name you hear too often here in Wisconsin. Especially not from a gentleman who is... Hispanic."
"Yes, but I am a Human of Earth."
"Citizen of the World," I interjected. "Citizen of the World was the phrase that we practiced... the phrase he meant to say, I mean."
"Well that's great," my dad said. "So, uh, washing your pet I see."
"This creature is not subservient to me. I located him outside of this edifice near our waste disposal bins."
"I see," my Dad said, wiping his hand on his jeans.
"I seek to understand more regarding how Earth animals react to H2O."
"Animals," I muttered. "Not Earth animals... just animals."
"With time, perhaps you will understand what it means to be subservient to another species the way you expect this Earth feline to -"
"Well, Muhammad, I'm glad you guys got to meet," I said. "But we have to take off. I'll touch bases with you later."
"I shall be here, Timothy."
As I shut the door to my apartment, my Dad stopped me. "Listen, Tim. I'm glad you were able to find another roommate. Really, I am. I know that break-up was difficult on you and companionship is always great. But I just want to make sure you're not rushing into any-"
"Timothy." Muhammad burst through the apartment door, exposing a face covered in claw marks. "The Earth feline has become bellicose. I must run further experiments. When you return, bring me enough sustenance for this animal for at least 150 Earth days."
The door slammed shut.
"So, where were you thinking for lunch?" I asked. | |
[WP] Your roommate is obviously an alien trying to infiltrate humanity... but he pays the rent on time so you don't really care. | "So, I'm going to a party tonight if you want to come" I said as I walked into the kitchen to see Chad Chadson, my newest flatmate sitting backwards in a chair.
"Will there be any world leaders or important pillars of the human community?" he asked.
"Possibly"
"I will bring edibles" he began, "fish eggs and the flesh of immature house cattle"
Nodding, I focused on the ground and responded "yeah, I think crisps and some beer will probably go better, but it's good that you're offering to spice things up a bit"
"Pepper"
"Right, so anyways, we're going to get going around 5. I can drive us both there..." I began, turning away from the kitchen.
"I will arrange my own form of transport" he said as I felt a blast of energy at my back and a light which illuminated the hallway in front of me.
I turned back around and Chad was gone.
"CALL ME. NOW." The text message from Maria read.
"Shit...." I whispered as I pressed the green button and the phone began to ring. "Hey, what's up?"
"Your flatmate broke into my house, somehow, and is running around my kitchen slapping pieces of meat on various items and screaming 'engage thermals', dude, I told you that he could only come if you stayed by him the entire time, and I said nothing about him arriving four hours early, alone, and breaking the fuck in!"
"THERMAL ENGAGE!" Chad screamed in the background as he put the veal on Admiral McKenzie, the flat cat.
"Though to be fair, he also seems to have upgraded by fridge, so kudos for that." Maria added.
"Let me talk to him" I said. "Hey, Chad, listen buddy, it's not time for the party, can you just come back here and..."
"WHAT THE FUCK!" Maria shouted and dropped the phone as Chad materialised in the room with me.
"Where is the thermal engager?" Chad asked.
"Right, the stove, come over here, grab a frying pan, you know, this, this thing, add some butter"
"Cattle froth"
"Butter...., some rosemary, lightly flour the veal, place it in like this, sprinkle some salt and pepper"
"MY NASAL AIR IS UNDER ATTACK"
"That's just the pepper buddy, let's just cook this for 3-4 minutes on each side, like that, right, then we just add some more pep..."
"NO"
"It's not necessary to do that, you're right, let's add in some white wine, let it evaporate for 3 to four more minutes, throw in some cherry tomatoes, some mozzarella cheese"
"Cattle clumps"
"Cheese.... two more minutes... almost there.... Now we put it on the plate, and pour on the juices.... and a bit of basil for show! See, all done!"
"See, all done! Now we are ready to engage in human festivities"
"Let's just put this in the fridge for a bit, and let it cool down and"
"ENGAGE COOLING SYSTEMS" he screamed as he threw the veal at the washing machine.
"Ex... exactly. Great. Well, I'll see you later for the party"
"HERE ARE MORE EARTH CREDITS"
"Thanks... thanks buddy"
| Walking up the stairs to my flat, I heard an odd, but consistent, thrum. It almost sounded like an engine. I thought about pushing the front door open, exposing whatever it was that my roommate, John Hugh Mann, was up to. However, it was a long day, and frankly, I didn't want the extra baggage of knowing whatever weird or invasive experiment he was running.
Rather than opening the door, I sighed, and knocked very loudly and calmly. "Hey John, I forgot my keys, could you get the door?" I asked, feigning frustration as I tucked my keys back into my pocket.
The thrum had abruptly stopped, I heard some odd squealing sound, and lastly, John replied, "Sure thing dood, Just a sec!" He spoke frantically and I heard shuffling around. I rolled my eyes, of course.
After a minute, John answered the door. "What's up, dood?" He asked, behaving as non chalauntly as a cybernetic alien could while hiding under the skin of a man that, I hoped, had already expired naturally before giving his skin over to John.
"Not much. Long day." I said, completely uninterested.
"Oh yeah, me too! Lots studying for the exam on Monday!" He spoke confidently, obviously comfortable that his ruse had fooled me once again.
"No classes Monday, man. Labor day." I said, beginning to shuffle through the mail that John had placed on the kitchen counter.
"Oh of course! What labor will we be performing?" John asked eagerly, wanting to participate in human culture.
"Look man, I'm leaving town for the weekend, and classes don't start til Tuesday. So you'll be on your own for four days." I didn't feel bad blowing him off, because for one, he was a *fucking alien*, and two, he didn't actually care to spend time with me. For him, it was all about blending in and pretending to be social.
The dude was on Earth to collect as much info on humanity as he could to create an assessment for if and when his kind decided to invade. Of course, they'd do it under a similar disguise as Johns. Unfortunately for them, they thought his disguise was bullet proof since I hadn't wised up to it.
John suddenly got serious. "If you are gone for four days for your labor, would you be alright if I had a party?"
He'd gotten my attention. "How many people are we talking?" I asked, continuing to flip through the mail without looking at it.
"Thirty one. Maybe fifty seven." He said, nervously.
I bit my lip. The *only* reason I put up with him was because he paid his rent and did all his weird and creepy shit behind my back. Inviting that many "people" over could ruin my chances at getting my deposit back.
I nodded, then said "No."
John wasn't too thrilled about that. "It's a study group. I need this for the exam on Monday." He pleaded.
Again, uninterested, I replied, "No classes on Monday, amigo."
John slammed his fist on the counter top suddenly, denting the marble.
I stiffled my terrified shiver and said, "Fine. Have people over, just enjoy yourself, John." I patted his arm and he smiled, unnaturally. "Listen, I forgot my wallet at work, I'll be back in a bit." I said, grabbing my coat. Son of a bitch was going to get my deposit taken away.
"See you later, dood!" John waved, staring at me until I closed the door behind me. As soon as I did, I heard the thrum and a squeal once again as he got back to work.
Sliding on my coat as I hustled down the stairs, I dialed the local FBI field office.
"Hi! Hello! Look, this is gonna sound nuts, but I'm pretty sure my roomate is building pipe bombs in our flat." | |
[WP] In land of magic and monsters, one creature has not been seen for thousands of years; dragons. Despite this, you’ve spent your life training to be the worlds only Dragon Knight. One day while exploring, you come across something only spoken of in children’s tales... a dragon egg. | “Bye, ma,” I said, pulling the laces tight on my boots.
From the sink, she yelled without turning around. “Yer not off after one of them dargins, are ya?”
“It’s ‘dragons’, ma.”
“Well jus’ keep outta trouble, ya hear? Ain’t no daughter of mine gonna be buried at tha ol’ family plot. You go find yerself a good boy, not some flyin’ lizard.”
I scowled, never quite growing used to her words, only growing used to biting my tongue. “Yes, ma.”
“And be back fer dinner. Yer da’s bringin’ home a salamander, he said.”
More a sigh than spoken, I said, “I will, ma.”
Before she nagged about anything else, I shut the door. “Don’t slam—” I didn’t hear the rest of what she said, my legs carrying me as fast as they could through the overgrown grass of our garden, to the fence that kept critters from scurrying in from the forest, and over it, and kept running.
Eventually, I stopped to catch my breath amongst the silence. Something about the leaves and ferns and shrubs caught all the sound, the grass underfoot softening footsteps, so the forest always had an eerie quietness to it. Though, I’d also scared all the critters with my running. That didn’t last, the gentle chirps and squeaks and all that coming up to fill the air, little more than a whisper.
I crept along, leaving the noise-makers undisturbed, while I checked for any trees that looked burnt. Using my nose, I only smelt the thick scent of nature, a mix of green and brown full of munched and mulched leaves. Not many carnivores around these parts, beasts like them run out over the years as the farmers brought in cockatrices and unicorns—those livestock easy prey; the bahamoots, well, they took a lot to anger and then took out a lot of anger, so nothing to worry about when it came to our beef getting dragged off by a stray chimera or griffin.
Still, not much happened in these parts. Back in the day, there’d be dragons and wyrms fighting it out, trees learning to be quick growers from how many times they got burned down. Some caves had these massive claw marks, and the stone looked all lumpy and smooth, and with massive patches of soot bigger than any barn I’d seen—bigger than the church my cousin got married in.
These days, nothing more exciting than a passing fairy happened. Even then, ma and da kept me in, afraid I’d be dumb enough to run off with a fae.
At the centre of the forest, or thereabouts, I pushed aside the leafy branches to get into my den. Some year ago, lightning struck this huge tree, and it brought down another when it fell, making a sturdy pair of walls. I’d collected the biggest branches I could to cover the top and closed off the front for a triangle, enough room inside for me to really stretch out. It kept out the wind and rain, so I especially liked it in the wintry months. What made it really special, though, was the smell of it, the charred wood always nice for my nose. Just that smokey smell was enough to make me feel warm and safe, like sitting in front of the fireplace.
Settled in for a good afternoon of being out the house, I looked over the drawings I’d scratched into the fallen trunks. Pocketknife in hand, I carried on where I’d left off a couple of days ago. Half a dragon bellowed her flames into the sky and parted the clouds, while I rode on her back like a knight on a unicorn—but so much cooler. I couldn’t drive off a pack of goblins by myself, or save a girl being dragged off by a banshee, but, if I had a dragon to help me, then I knew I could do anything. I wouldn’t need to find a boy and settle down like ma, or go off to the church like cousin Marie. Instead, I could go wherever I wanted, to wherever I heard they needed help, and camp under the stars with my dragon at my side.
The tree trunks had a lot of drawings like that scratched into them. But, there’d not been a dragon seen in hundreds of years. Even the books I read were all called fairy’s tales. Da had said it was naught but salamanders in old tongues and ma didn’t bother to say anything, just told me to put down my book and help her with some chore.
But, I knew, even if I never saw one in my entire life. There was definitely a reason everyone and everything looked to the sky when a sudden gust of wind blew like a howl, or when the first clap of thunder sounded. Deep inside, we all knew there was something up there, and it was scary.
The early afternoon sun burned to orange by the time I finished scratching the rest of my drawing. Spots of sunlight slipped through my makeshift roof, and specks caught in the rays danced in the still air. I could’ve spent hours just sitting there and watching, and I sometimes did. But, my thoughts remembered what ma had said, and I did quite like a bit of roasted salamander—for something tough enough to breathe fire, it got rather soft from a little cooking.
My mind so full of that, I could even smell the cooking fire. Only, I quickly realised it wasn’t my mind smelling that, but my nose, smoke burning my throat. Turning around, I stared at the charred trunk, sure it was a lot less charred a minute ago. My body knowing better than to sit around, I pushed myself back and out of my den. There, I stood up and stepped back further, watching on as the smoke leaked out through gaps in the leaves. Then, I noticed it also came from the far side of the trunk, so I walked around, while holding the neckline of my shirt up over my mouth and nose.
Once I got around, I spotted the source of all that smouldering, smoke like steam rising off of a small boulder. The ground around it scorched, and the trunk charred right next to it, I couldn’t see what else could be causing it all. But, I’d never heard of stone doing anything like this before. There wasn’t a fire underneath it, so I thought it would cool off from whatever had got it hot, but it kept going. If anything, it only got hotter the longer I looked. Around it, the patch of blackened grass and leaves grew, the charred part of the trunk starting to glow red, and I felt the intense heat on my skin when the wind turned in my direction.
I should have felt afraid, yet I felt too fascinated to be scared, something incredible in front of me and there was room for nothing else in my head. The stone itself began to also glow red, so hot the air swam around it. I’d seen metal at the forge glow, but never stone. Crackling and hissing and spitting filled the air, everything nearby and green sputtering out steam, while twigs and dried leaves burst into flames. Fire crept up the side of my den.
None of that could keep my attention, though, eyes pulled back to the stone—to how the melting rock started to squirm, parts of it pushing out before going back to its egg-like shape. Second by second, these bumps grew larger, and larger, until, finally, the stone broke and a torrent of thick, black smoke poured out. So much smoke, I didn’t know how it could possibly have fitted inside the stone. Then, I realised stones shouldn’t have had anything inside them that could make smoke, being solid rock and all.
The intense heat left while the smoke blew away with the breeze. I could see better now, but what I saw only made me doubt what I saw, the stone looking like it was hollow. The nearby fire made me hesitant; it looked ready to die down, though, now the heat was gone. So, I stepped closed to the stone, one step at a time. The closer I got, the more sure I was that it was hollow, and the less sure I got about what on earth had happened.
With a last breath—horrible as it was, the air smelling like brimstone and burnt sap—I took the final step. At the stone now, I realised just how big it was, nearly up to my shoulders. Going up on my tippy toes, I peeked inside as best as I could.
Only, my peeking wasn’t needed, as what was inside stuck its head out and nearly headbutted me. I half-fell, half-stumbled backwards, barely able to stay on my feet. My heart trying to force itself out of my chest while also pounding in my ears, I couldn’t bring myself to see what I was looking at for a few seconds. Then, I couldn’t bring myself to do anything but look.
Reddish scales covered its head, nose and mouth drawn out into a snout. It didn’t look like it had ears, but it did have two stubs at the back of its head, sticking out behind it. The eyes matched a lizards, or a cats, yellow with a black scar running top to bottom in the middle. It opened its mouth, smoke trailing out either side, and I saw sharp teeth in there—the kind for pulling meat from bone. Just when I thought I had a moment to properly think about all that, it stretched upwards, and hooked a pair of taloned feet on the edge of its shell. Then, its wings forced their way out, spreading wide in the air. Thin and leathery, rather than scaly, the sunlight shone through and showed the bones and arteries inside.
I swallowed the lump in my throat, too overwhelmed to think. On instinct, I stepped forward, my hand reaching out. It turned to look at me, its gaze holding me in place. The seconds stretched impossibly long as I waited. Finally, it bowed its head. I didn’t think, just walked forwards until I could touch it. While I took that moment to hesitate, it didn’t, bringing its snout to me and sniffing my hand. Once it did that, I found my courage again and touched the side of its face. Scales—smooth and stiff and so unlike a snake’s—were what my fingers felt, hot and yet not unbearably so.
The words I’d surely been thinking deep inside slipped through my lips.
“You’re a dragon.”
As if in answer, it stretched out and pointed its snout towards the sky, and from its throat let out a burst of fire so intense my eyes watered.
“You’re a dragon,” I said again, this time covering my mouth as I just had to laugh. | As a child I had been fascinated with the stories of the terrifying monsters called dragons. I imagined them as the story woman told her tale - giant, reptilian, fire breathing animals. And then I had imagined the knights who had slayed them. How could I not? They had freed our people from the terror the beasts had reigned. I pictured myself in their armor, scales from dead dragon hides, glittering in the sunlight. Swords made of steel quenched in their blood. But no Dragon Knight, or dragon had been seen in a thousand years. The knights weren’t needed - the dragons were all dead.
But I was enchanted by the thought of being a Dragon Knight. For my family had a secret. Long long ago, an ancestor of mine had been one of the last Dragon Knights. His armor and sword were kept hidden away. Polished and maintained through the generations. My father had shown me when I was a small child. I would sit on his lap as he oiled the leather between the scales - as he sharpened the sword.
It was not uncommon for boys in our village to be picked as pages to the King’s Knights. I was chosen and started my training at the age of eight. It was hard work, learning to ride horses, clean mail dirtied in battle, and do whatever my knight needed. Sir Nolan. He was my hero. Once I became his page - he became my father. I learned about women from him. About the ways of the world. I wrote to my Ma and Pa every month, but I only visited once every two years. But I never forgot about the Dragon Armor. I kept it a secret from Sir Nolan, from all the knights. For some reason the Dragon Knights were looked down upon. I didn’t understand, but I was smart enough to keep my mouth shut.
When I hit 15 I was made Squire. Not all the boys chosen to be pages made it that far. I was not only talented, but I was driven. I lived every moment focused on my service and training to Nolan. We moved to the castle, were the formal education began. I learned about how the Dragon Knights had gone against the King’s orders so many centuries ago. They were to tame the dragons, not kill them. The Old King had wanted to use them as war mounts, to expand our territory. The Dragon Knights had disobeyed and had been hunted by the King’s Guard.
All had been found and executed. Or so they had thought. My ancestor must have hidden himself well. Or given his armor to his son and told him to hide it. That much I did not know, for my father, and his before did not know how the armor had been hidden away, only that we must never talk about it. At 20 I was made a Knight of the King’s Realm. Sir Sagan of Hillsdale.
With the promotion came my own suit of armor and weapons. A horse, and the expectation I go out into the world and spread our kings name. I thought I would be overwhelmed, but instead I was just dedicated. I knew the first thing I would do - Go Home.
It had been almost four years since my last visit, as the squire training was much more in depth than the page, and leaving the capitol was frowned upon. I loaded my gear and set off for home. Pa had written that mother had died last winter to an illness that had taken many of the villagers from Hillsdale. I had wanted to return home then, but I was so close to my knighthood that I could not. I had cried in my room every night for weeks, but during the day I had kept my composure. It was no good for a squire to be seen squalling like a child.
As I rode the two-day journey home I thought about how long it had really been. A few days home once every few years wasn’t much. I might as well be a stranger. The first night I camped in a pasture, horses much smaller than my own warhorse all around. I needed no fire, as it was high summer, and I simply ate bread I had packed. Once the false dawn rose I was up, already on my way to home. I kept calling it home, but really the capitol was more home than any time I had spent in Hillsdale.
That thought and others about how long it had been assailed me as I rode into town, sure that I would not be recognized. Fearing that I had been forgotten. At the edge of town was a stream where many of the towns women were gathered doing their washing. They looked up at the sound of my steeds’ hooves on the dirt road, quickly gathering their things looking at me nervously. That was until one woman, older than many of the rest shouted, “Well look who’s finally come home! Sir Sagan!”
A cry went up, and before I could even make it to the town square, people were surging out of their homes, and into the streets to see me. Sure I had passed through other towns as I made my way here, but most of them didn’t give me a second look, being so close to the capitol. But here, these were my people, and they wanted to celebrate. A cow was slaughtered, and children were sent to gather wood and flowers. Many people stopped me to congratulate me, and while it was endearing, I wanted to make it home. I wanted to see Pa. Our small farm was on the far side of town and I was seriously considering just galloping the rest of the way there.
But I did not, I stayed patient and greeted those who came up to me. At one point I dismounted so that the children could see my armor. Finally I reached the house. As I tied my warhorse to the hitching pole in the side yard, I heard steps behind me and I turned. Pa. Like a small boy I threw myself at him. However I was no small boy, in fact I now was nearly a head taller than my father.
“I see you got your mother’s father’s height.” He breathed out in a gust as I wrapped my arms around him. Then I stood back and really looked at him. He was nearly 45. He was balding and brown from working in the hot sun every day. He seemed tired, but not physically.
“Pa. I … I’m sorry I couldn’t be here when Ma passed.” It was the only thing I could think to say to him. He just shook his head and hugged me tight.
“It’s alright. Please, come in.” He turned and lead me to the house. We entered, and once again I felt like that eight-year-old little boy. Nothing had changed. Maybe the floor was a little more worn, and there were different blankets on the bed, but other than that? I could have been walking into my past. We sat and talked, but we both knew we had little time. The town was in an uproar, wanting me there to show off my skills. We talked, mostly about Ma for about an hour, until a townsman came looking for us both. We went back to town where a bonfire had been lit and even as I approached I could smell the cooking foods. My eyes misted, but I claimed it was the smoke. I was touched that they would do this for me.
The night passed in a wonderful blur of colors and laughter. I had not been allowed to enjoy myself for a long time, and I had missed this. It was late into the night before the fire burned low and I headed back to the farm with Pa. We arrived, and I started stripping off my armor. I was exhausted from the food and the social activity. Pa seemed to know that, but once I was out of my armor, he led me to the small hidden room we kept the dragon armor in. It was the same, but different than I remembered.
The ruby scales glittered in the candle light, and from my training I could tell it was well made. The sword, nearly a millennium old looked as though it had been forged only yesterday. I tested the edge with my thumb, still razor sharp. I had always known that Pa would give me the armor one day, I just… never expected that day to come. Even though I was tired, we both were as giddy as children when he suggested I try it on. Piece by piece he helped me, not that I really needed it, to get into the armor. It fit like a glove. The leather, so well-oiled after all this time, made no noise as I moved. The scales, unlike my metal armor, rasped as they moved rather than clinked. It was like it had been made for me. I grasped the hilt of the sword and it molded to my hand.
I saw a flash of… Memory? I wasn’t sure.
I was staring into the face of a dragon, and it talked? To me? *“I will* not *be the last dragon.” It roared, but then the sword was slicing through the air, and the dragon’s head was on the ground.*
I gasped and nearly dropped the sword. My ancestor had been the one to kill the last dragon.
There will be a part two on my sub r/LandOfMisfits within a week. | |
[WP] Once mankind perfected virtual reality, they chose it over their real one. Years passed and the world they used to inhabit has changed greater than they ever could imagine, not that they cared. One day, the wires of your headset short circuit, allowing you to return to reality. | The pods kept you alive, not healthy, so everyone woke up feeling groggy. Their bodies did age, but the pods made good work in slowing down the aging factor.
Inmediately after waking up, Josh first thought was going to Jessica, only to find out that he didnt knew where she really lived, or that she was who she said she was.
Josh and Jessica had been married for over 7 years and had 2 girls; Lily and Sam.
Jessica had adopted the virtual world as the real one, and had no space in her mind for questions, while Josh always knew that they were in the virtual world. Josh loved her so much that he went along with it, since they werent going to go back to real world..Supposedly.
Josh felt horrible at the though that her two daughters were gone. He kneeled down in the dirty and unkept floor of his old apartment. The sudden rush of real pain was too much and laid down and cried until his eyes where raw.
In the middle of the suffering, he looked to the wall and saw a picture that said "Eveything is going to be Ok" That thought lit a small flame in him, and it took him a while to remember what was the flame´s name.... It was hope.
Grasping that hope, he got up from the floor and connected the pod to his old laptop. He was amazed to find that it still worked, even after 20 years in the virtual world. He looked out the window and it suprised him to find little vestiges of society still going.
*-¿How*? - He thought -*Wherent we all asleep? This shouldnt be possible!*
He decided that he had more pressing problems and focused on searching for Jessicas address in the notebook.
It didnt take him long to find the address, he still kept the skills gained in VR, which included a lot of technology and hacking.
He tried to make himself as clean and presentable as possible, but with low water and dusty clothes, he looked more like a bum.
Luckily, he Jessicas adress was not far from his apartment, but on his state it would take him long to get there. He saw many things on his trip there, people going crazy from over-stimulation, people crying over how beautifull everything was, people running naked. Josh didnt know if he was in heaven or in hell.
When he finally got to Jessicas house, he founded her sitting in a chair beside the window, looking away into the horizon.
She was as beatiful in VR as in real life, the only difference was the scar on her neck where she had tried to kill herself when she was young.
Without looking at Josh, she said: - "I dont want to live this life"
\-Jessica.... - Josh said-... I know that real life was hard on you, but believe that things can be good.
\-How, Josh! - Jessica screamed- Here i can get sick and .... | "Captain, four starships have warped into the vicinity! They bear the sigils of the Moriana Sector."
"Agent Van, send a communication stream to identify the purpose of this intrusion."
The ship quaked violently.
"They're firing on our position!"
"Rema, be ready to activate our secondary phase shields. Pollack, the response!"
"Yes, sir!"
"Is it war?"
"Captain, a communication is being signaled."
"Patch it through, Van."
"This is Vice Admiral Logan of the Moriana Imperial Army. War were declared."
The communication ended abruptly.
"Captain, the Moriana ships are engaging heavy artillery and falling into a line formation!"
"Shit, Rema, the phase shields. Now! Pollack, don't just sit there, blast them! Deidre, ready the warp gate!"
The Moriana ships combined their lasers into a focal point.
"The phase shields aren't going to hold much longer!"
"This technology..."
The ship buckled under the continued pressure. The void of space turned a blinding red. CRASH! There was nothing left in the pitch
black.
"Van! Rema! Deidre! Pollack!"
Silence radiated back.
"Is this... what death is?", The captain mused in the darkness.
"Why is there a breeze?"
A light below cracked the void. The captain's eyes drifted to it. He saw the outline of his torso and remembered. Patient 02412A removed the VR visor from his head. His eyes snapped closed to the blinding daylight. He slowly adjusted to the brightness while his body was oppressed by the cooling fans. He glanced around seeing the other patients still. An electric rip sounded above him and he realized. 02412A attempted to step out of his pod but stumbled unceremoniously onto the floor. It had been years since he used his legs. The smell of grass flooded his nostrils. He tilted his head up from his new vantage point.
"The facility... it's covered in overgrowth."
His heart swelled in fear, his brain paralyzed in inquisition. He turned to the wall of windows where the light pierced through and gaped at what he saw.
"It's..."
BANG!
The glass crashed over him as he buried his head in his arms. He heard a thud in front of him. A woman was kneeling on the floor breathing heavily. She glanced over to him and quickly scanned the room.
She grabbed her transmitter and relayed "I found the signal. Only one."
"Who are you? What's happening?!" 02142A exclaimed.
"Name's Lou. War were declared." She responded curtly.
"War with-" BOOM
"No time! Can you stand?"
02142A struggled to right himself but couldn't manage to stand. Lou put his arm around her shoulder and lifted him up. An airship careened around the neighbouring buildings towards their position.
"What's your name, stranger?"
He glanced at the code engraved in his arm.
"I'm 0214..." pausing
"Charmed"
"Gene." He stammered.
The airship pulled up through the volleys of gunfire and sonic blasts.
"Beam us up, Scotty."
"Call me Scotty one more time and I'm leaving you stranded." A voice echoed from her ear piece.
Gene found himself aboard the airship hunched over Lou.
"The vagrants tracked our biosignal. We won't last long if we stick around."
"Then let's kick it." Lou responded.
"Proceeding to kick it."
The airship began to whir and then let out a roar as it propelled forward at breakneck speed. | |
[WP] Once mankind perfected virtual reality, they chose it over their real one. Years passed and the world they used to inhabit has changed greater than they ever could imagine, not that they cared. One day, the wires of your headset short circuit, allowing you to return to reality. | We do not speak his name for it is cursed. We call him the One. He arrived many years ago from the Old Ruins. He has many names and titles, some say he is madness incarnate, death and destruction given human form, bringer of monsters. Others call him a great builder, bringer of mechanical wonders, the life bringer. Still others extol his title of the mightiest eater of cheese. All agree that the One inevitably brings death and destruction wherever he goes.
The stories claim Old Ones were foolish, that they claimed to have perfected a better reality and whisked themselves off to an eternal slumber. Yet we know better, they must have sealed themselves to prevent the world from being destroyed by beings such as the One.
He arrived many moons ago, supposedly a scrawny tiny thing which clawed itself out of the Old Ruins. He was completely delusional, rambling about "menus," "character," and "hard cord mode", whatever they may be but I suppose that is to be expected after eons of undying sleep. A scavenger group had picked him up & made the unfortunate decision to raise him as one of their own (perhaps in hopes he would lead them to valuables of the old world).
Over several moons the One would diligently perform a ritual of sorts without fail. He would lie face down on the floor and push himself up 100 times every day, flip himself on his back, pull himself up, and breathe out 100 times, then stand and squat 100 times, and run about a half of a Old Ruin block. During this time he apparently had an obsession with cheese, demanding all he could find.
Scholars believe the One was performing an archaic ritual to imbue himself with the power of the spirits. Pushing against the floor in an earth ritual, pulling himself up and breathing out to infuse himself with the air spirits, squat down to gain the favor of the fire spirits, and running to become one with the water spirits. Many have attempted the same ritual but all have failed.
One day the One stopped performing his daily ritual and proclaimed he must "grind". We did not know what to make of it but now know that the One meant he was going to grind all of us under his heel like bugs as we must all be inferior like ants to his eyes. In any case the scavenger group that had taken in the One was soon destroyed after the One embarked on a brutal campaign of leading the most terrifying wasteland creatures to civilization. When asked why he supposedly answered with a single word "kiting".
In any case the records are unclear from this point on as few survivors remain from the One's murderous rampage which left entire cities devastated as he led the worst monstrosities such as Neogis, Giffs, and even Tyrannohamstersaurus to city gate after city gate. This led to the death of the great Krag, the Warrior King as he attempted to protect his city from the threat brought by the One. The surviving cities would post sentinels to buy precious time for inhabitants to escape as his arrival, clad in the skin of monsters, running faster than humanly possible, would herald the coming of monsters. Some cities would attempt to attack him on sight although they always failed for his monster leather armor was impervious to our most powerful weaponry, even the strongest city gate would be battered down in a single blow. Eventually the most cunning of Kings, Eownr came upon a tentative solution after pouring through all known records of the One. He took to offering tribute in the form of vast amounts of cheese wheels which was the only known substance to pique the interest of the One while our finest coins of marble, obsidian, and even plastic did not even warrant a glance from the One. When offered a mountain of cheese wheels, the One would leave behind a mountain of monster meat and parts in return. Scholars believe it is due to some sort of honor code the Old Ones follow which states that in 1998, The Undertaker threw Mankind off Hell In A Cell, and plummeted 16 ft through an announcer's table. (I can't do endings well. It was either this or warn people to run from his battle cry of Leeroy Jenkins.)
| "Captain, four starships have warped into the vicinity! They bear the sigils of the Moriana Sector."
"Agent Van, send a communication stream to identify the purpose of this intrusion."
The ship quaked violently.
"They're firing on our position!"
"Rema, be ready to activate our secondary phase shields. Pollack, the response!"
"Yes, sir!"
"Is it war?"
"Captain, a communication is being signaled."
"Patch it through, Van."
"This is Vice Admiral Logan of the Moriana Imperial Army. War were declared."
The communication ended abruptly.
"Captain, the Moriana ships are engaging heavy artillery and falling into a line formation!"
"Shit, Rema, the phase shields. Now! Pollack, don't just sit there, blast them! Deidre, ready the warp gate!"
The Moriana ships combined their lasers into a focal point.
"The phase shields aren't going to hold much longer!"
"This technology..."
The ship buckled under the continued pressure. The void of space turned a blinding red. CRASH! There was nothing left in the pitch
black.
"Van! Rema! Deidre! Pollack!"
Silence radiated back.
"Is this... what death is?", The captain mused in the darkness.
"Why is there a breeze?"
A light below cracked the void. The captain's eyes drifted to it. He saw the outline of his torso and remembered. Patient 02412A removed the VR visor from his head. His eyes snapped closed to the blinding daylight. He slowly adjusted to the brightness while his body was oppressed by the cooling fans. He glanced around seeing the other patients still. An electric rip sounded above him and he realized. 02412A attempted to step out of his pod but stumbled unceremoniously onto the floor. It had been years since he used his legs. The smell of grass flooded his nostrils. He tilted his head up from his new vantage point.
"The facility... it's covered in overgrowth."
His heart swelled in fear, his brain paralyzed in inquisition. He turned to the wall of windows where the light pierced through and gaped at what he saw.
"It's..."
BANG!
The glass crashed over him as he buried his head in his arms. He heard a thud in front of him. A woman was kneeling on the floor breathing heavily. She glanced over to him and quickly scanned the room.
She grabbed her transmitter and relayed "I found the signal. Only one."
"Who are you? What's happening?!" 02142A exclaimed.
"Name's Lou. War were declared." She responded curtly.
"War with-" BOOM
"No time! Can you stand?"
02142A struggled to right himself but couldn't manage to stand. Lou put his arm around her shoulder and lifted him up. An airship careened around the neighbouring buildings towards their position.
"What's your name, stranger?"
He glanced at the code engraved in his arm.
"I'm 0214..." pausing
"Charmed"
"Gene." He stammered.
The airship pulled up through the volleys of gunfire and sonic blasts.
"Beam us up, Scotty."
"Call me Scotty one more time and I'm leaving you stranded." A voice echoed from her ear piece.
Gene found himself aboard the airship hunched over Lou.
"The vagrants tracked our biosignal. We won't last long if we stick around."
"Then let's kick it." Lou responded.
"Proceeding to kick it."
The airship began to whir and then let out a roar as it propelled forward at breakneck speed. | |
[WP] Once mankind perfected virtual reality, they chose it over their real one. Years passed and the world they used to inhabit has changed greater than they ever could imagine, not that they cared. One day, the wires of your headset short circuit, allowing you to return to reality. | This is my first time trying a writing prompt so bear with me, hope you enjoy!
​
BOOM! Bullets whizzed overhead as a mortar shell landed near Mark's unit's location. "Oh come on! They're using kill streaks!" Complained Robert after the second mortar shell landed nearby. "Well we'll just have to do better then them", Mark responded. He then popped out of cover to take a shot at a terrorist creeping up on the left flank. "Hey! What the hell are you doing? Robert shouted. "Were gonna get sniped if we peek them!" "Well if we stay here were gonna get hit by..." Mark's retort was cut off by a mortar shell landing directly on their position. "I'm done with this game! He shouted and selected exit to menu from the respawn screen. Mark then found himself in his virtual house, as any player did when they exited a game. Seconds later, he got a pop up message in the corner of his screen from Robert, "Hey dude, why did you ragequit, come on, we could have had them! Do you still wanna play something?" Mark just ignored the message and proceeded to walk around his virtual house. It wasn't much, but the small house that he bought for 10,000 credits was great for getting a little bit of rest before popping into another game or exiting into the virtual world. Getting credits to buy virtual things was easy for someone as skilled at games as Mark.
No one remembered the time when things were different, when things were real. Every one he knew was born into the virtual world with no memories of a past one. No one cared though. Being able to fly, spawn food, change one's appearance at will and never have to work for credits seemed pretty ideal to everyone. Hell, there wasn't even a government or laws since anyone could just do what they wanted in their own single player worlds. Yes, there were still a couple hackers, but anti cheat got them all eventually. No one ever even thought about the old reality.
After conjuring himself a sandwich, Mark jumped on the comfy leather couch and started browsing the new games by looking into the top left of his vision. "Hmm, what have we got here?", he thought to himself as he saw a new game about multiplayer online mech suit battling. "Might as well give it a try" he said as he looked at the download and play game button and blinked to select it. He loaded into the tutorial, which was uninformative and boring as always. He started a multiplayer match and fought another mech in a 1v1. He was winning the fight and as he cockily thought to himself what a noob this other player was, everything suddenly froze. "What is this?' Mark said, his voice shaking. Nothing moved. His mech suit just stood there in mid punch animation, the expression of anger on his opponent's face unchanging. Mark tried to move his hands and face, but nothing registered. As he slowly got more and more paranoid, everything went black.
He shot up from a laying position screaming. He then nervously looked around. "Where in the actual hell am I?" he said. Nothing was familiar. He appeared to be in some sort of escape pod, glass frosted with ice. No, it was a cryo chamber he realized. He then felt cold. Really cold. And he also noticed he had wires sticking in his head and the he really started freaking out. After a minute or so of confusion, he pulled the wires out of his head. Each one hurt, but he was finally free. His body sagged to the ground due to the massive atrophying that his muscles had suffered and fell asleep. He woke up again, still very cold, but now had the energy to figure out what was going on. He looked out his glass door and saw hundreds of cryo pods like his lining the wall opposite him. It was now that he realized that he just woke up form virtual reality into the real world. Like, the real real world he thought to himself. Curious, confused and cold, he tried pressing various buttons in his pod until, the glass glass door hissed and opened. He looked around again and noticed he was in a circular building with gray cryo pods everywhere with people inside them. He looked down and saw that his pod was three from the floor. Mark tried to climb down but his atrophied muscles failed him and he landed with a thud on the metal floor. He looked in awe as he saw the truly massive amount of people trapped in their pods. in this windowless gray building. He saw a door and decided to walk towards it. He opened it and was greeted by a hallway of bright lights. Then he heard the whirring sound of something behind him. He looked through the window in the door and saw a robot fly around, bringing what looked to be a newborn human to an empty cryo pod. Scared and clueless he ran down the hallway. He realize that he was in what used to be a maintenance tunnel. He didnt take any of the other doorways he saw until he came upon a doorway market exit. He then followed that tunnel until he was greeted by a strange door of light. He went through it and realized that now he was outside the building and in the real world. But the real world was nothing like the virtual world. The virtual world in between simulations was a sprawling neon cyberpunk paradise, with huge skyscrapers and multiple floors blotting out the sun, which was replaced by neon lights everywhere. But this, this was different. All mark saw for miles was asphalt, metal and giant buildings, much like the one he just exited, no doubt holding many more people trapped in virtual reality. And also trash. Trash everywhere. It looked like a landfill full of scrap parts with looming towers of metal every so often. "Well what the hell do I do now" Mark said aloud to himself. He heard the sound of gunfire in the distance and saw people shooting at something. With no purpose and nothing left to do, he started to make his way over on his weakened muscles.
​
I know its probably pretty bad, maybe someone will like it though, thanks for reading! | "Captain, four starships have warped into the vicinity! They bear the sigils of the Moriana Sector."
"Agent Van, send a communication stream to identify the purpose of this intrusion."
The ship quaked violently.
"They're firing on our position!"
"Rema, be ready to activate our secondary phase shields. Pollack, the response!"
"Yes, sir!"
"Is it war?"
"Captain, a communication is being signaled."
"Patch it through, Van."
"This is Vice Admiral Logan of the Moriana Imperial Army. War were declared."
The communication ended abruptly.
"Captain, the Moriana ships are engaging heavy artillery and falling into a line formation!"
"Shit, Rema, the phase shields. Now! Pollack, don't just sit there, blast them! Deidre, ready the warp gate!"
The Moriana ships combined their lasers into a focal point.
"The phase shields aren't going to hold much longer!"
"This technology..."
The ship buckled under the continued pressure. The void of space turned a blinding red. CRASH! There was nothing left in the pitch
black.
"Van! Rema! Deidre! Pollack!"
Silence radiated back.
"Is this... what death is?", The captain mused in the darkness.
"Why is there a breeze?"
A light below cracked the void. The captain's eyes drifted to it. He saw the outline of his torso and remembered. Patient 02412A removed the VR visor from his head. His eyes snapped closed to the blinding daylight. He slowly adjusted to the brightness while his body was oppressed by the cooling fans. He glanced around seeing the other patients still. An electric rip sounded above him and he realized. 02412A attempted to step out of his pod but stumbled unceremoniously onto the floor. It had been years since he used his legs. The smell of grass flooded his nostrils. He tilted his head up from his new vantage point.
"The facility... it's covered in overgrowth."
His heart swelled in fear, his brain paralyzed in inquisition. He turned to the wall of windows where the light pierced through and gaped at what he saw.
"It's..."
BANG!
The glass crashed over him as he buried his head in his arms. He heard a thud in front of him. A woman was kneeling on the floor breathing heavily. She glanced over to him and quickly scanned the room.
She grabbed her transmitter and relayed "I found the signal. Only one."
"Who are you? What's happening?!" 02142A exclaimed.
"Name's Lou. War were declared." She responded curtly.
"War with-" BOOM
"No time! Can you stand?"
02142A struggled to right himself but couldn't manage to stand. Lou put his arm around her shoulder and lifted him up. An airship careened around the neighbouring buildings towards their position.
"What's your name, stranger?"
He glanced at the code engraved in his arm.
"I'm 0214..." pausing
"Charmed"
"Gene." He stammered.
The airship pulled up through the volleys of gunfire and sonic blasts.
"Beam us up, Scotty."
"Call me Scotty one more time and I'm leaving you stranded." A voice echoed from her ear piece.
Gene found himself aboard the airship hunched over Lou.
"The vagrants tracked our biosignal. We won't last long if we stick around."
"Then let's kick it." Lou responded.
"Proceeding to kick it."
The airship began to whir and then let out a roar as it propelled forward at breakneck speed. | |
[WP] Once mankind perfected virtual reality, they chose it over their real one. Years passed and the world they used to inhabit has changed greater than they ever could imagine, not that they cared. One day, the wires of your headset short circuit, allowing you to return to reality. | The pods kept you alive, not healthy, so everyone woke up feeling groggy. Their bodies did age, but the pods made good work in slowing down the aging factor.
Inmediately after waking up, Josh first thought was going to Jessica, only to find out that he didnt knew where she really lived, or that she was who she said she was.
Josh and Jessica had been married for over 7 years and had 2 girls; Lily and Sam.
Jessica had adopted the virtual world as the real one, and had no space in her mind for questions, while Josh always knew that they were in the virtual world. Josh loved her so much that he went along with it, since they werent going to go back to real world..Supposedly.
Josh felt horrible at the though that her two daughters were gone. He kneeled down in the dirty and unkept floor of his old apartment. The sudden rush of real pain was too much and laid down and cried until his eyes where raw.
In the middle of the suffering, he looked to the wall and saw a picture that said "Eveything is going to be Ok" That thought lit a small flame in him, and it took him a while to remember what was the flame´s name.... It was hope.
Grasping that hope, he got up from the floor and connected the pod to his old laptop. He was amazed to find that it still worked, even after 20 years in the virtual world. He looked out the window and it suprised him to find little vestiges of society still going.
*-¿How*? - He thought -*Wherent we all asleep? This shouldnt be possible!*
He decided that he had more pressing problems and focused on searching for Jessicas address in the notebook.
It didnt take him long to find the address, he still kept the skills gained in VR, which included a lot of technology and hacking.
He tried to make himself as clean and presentable as possible, but with low water and dusty clothes, he looked more like a bum.
Luckily, he Jessicas adress was not far from his apartment, but on his state it would take him long to get there. He saw many things on his trip there, people going crazy from over-stimulation, people crying over how beautifull everything was, people running naked. Josh didnt know if he was in heaven or in hell.
When he finally got to Jessicas house, he founded her sitting in a chair beside the window, looking away into the horizon.
She was as beatiful in VR as in real life, the only difference was the scar on her neck where she had tried to kill herself when she was young.
Without looking at Josh, she said: - "I dont want to live this life"
\-Jessica.... - Josh said-... I know that real life was hard on you, but believe that things can be good.
\-How, Josh! - Jessica screamed- Here i can get sick and .... | A jolt through my brain. Instant and insane. I was shaken awake as if an earthquake had happened. My soft reflection stared just as confused back at me. My atrophied limbs tried to reach for that reflection that looked back. Gaunt, ashen skin, parchment thin. A skeleton stared back. I could feel only the taut dryness of it stretching over me, over my limbs over who and what I was in the other realm. I was dashing, with an excellent body that was fit enough to run marathons and make love to my goddess of a wife for hours on end. We would go camping and whisper sweet nothings to each other under the stars. I had love: now all I have here is a ghost in a shell.
If I had woken up, maybe my wife did too. Wasn't there anyone manning these machines? Wasn't there someone who stayed behind? Wasn't there some martyr out there that was willing to live in in this shithole? There had to be. My gnarled hands knocked on the glass of the capsule, trying to yell but my vocal chords hadn't been used in so long, they rang without much hope. It was dark on the outside, with only faint glows of he machines running the other pods. I saw other faces, asleep in bliss with smiles broad. How I longed to be back in there. I did not want to face all this again. There's a reason why we retreated. There was a reason why we chose the machines over life: this was not life. This was a sham of what it's supposed to be. Everyone just wants to be happy, right? Why must we suffer to attain happiness? Where the hell was someone to let me out? | |
[WP] Once mankind perfected virtual reality, they chose it over their real one. Years passed and the world they used to inhabit has changed greater than they ever could imagine, not that they cared. One day, the wires of your headset short circuit, allowing you to return to reality. | This is my first time trying a writing prompt so bear with me, hope you enjoy!
​
BOOM! Bullets whizzed overhead as a mortar shell landed near Mark's unit's location. "Oh come on! They're using kill streaks!" Complained Robert after the second mortar shell landed nearby. "Well we'll just have to do better then them", Mark responded. He then popped out of cover to take a shot at a terrorist creeping up on the left flank. "Hey! What the hell are you doing? Robert shouted. "Were gonna get sniped if we peek them!" "Well if we stay here were gonna get hit by..." Mark's retort was cut off by a mortar shell landing directly on their position. "I'm done with this game! He shouted and selected exit to menu from the respawn screen. Mark then found himself in his virtual house, as any player did when they exited a game. Seconds later, he got a pop up message in the corner of his screen from Robert, "Hey dude, why did you ragequit, come on, we could have had them! Do you still wanna play something?" Mark just ignored the message and proceeded to walk around his virtual house. It wasn't much, but the small house that he bought for 10,000 credits was great for getting a little bit of rest before popping into another game or exiting into the virtual world. Getting credits to buy virtual things was easy for someone as skilled at games as Mark.
No one remembered the time when things were different, when things were real. Every one he knew was born into the virtual world with no memories of a past one. No one cared though. Being able to fly, spawn food, change one's appearance at will and never have to work for credits seemed pretty ideal to everyone. Hell, there wasn't even a government or laws since anyone could just do what they wanted in their own single player worlds. Yes, there were still a couple hackers, but anti cheat got them all eventually. No one ever even thought about the old reality.
After conjuring himself a sandwich, Mark jumped on the comfy leather couch and started browsing the new games by looking into the top left of his vision. "Hmm, what have we got here?", he thought to himself as he saw a new game about multiplayer online mech suit battling. "Might as well give it a try" he said as he looked at the download and play game button and blinked to select it. He loaded into the tutorial, which was uninformative and boring as always. He started a multiplayer match and fought another mech in a 1v1. He was winning the fight and as he cockily thought to himself what a noob this other player was, everything suddenly froze. "What is this?' Mark said, his voice shaking. Nothing moved. His mech suit just stood there in mid punch animation, the expression of anger on his opponent's face unchanging. Mark tried to move his hands and face, but nothing registered. As he slowly got more and more paranoid, everything went black.
He shot up from a laying position screaming. He then nervously looked around. "Where in the actual hell am I?" he said. Nothing was familiar. He appeared to be in some sort of escape pod, glass frosted with ice. No, it was a cryo chamber he realized. He then felt cold. Really cold. And he also noticed he had wires sticking in his head and the he really started freaking out. After a minute or so of confusion, he pulled the wires out of his head. Each one hurt, but he was finally free. His body sagged to the ground due to the massive atrophying that his muscles had suffered and fell asleep. He woke up again, still very cold, but now had the energy to figure out what was going on. He looked out his glass door and saw hundreds of cryo pods like his lining the wall opposite him. It was now that he realized that he just woke up form virtual reality into the real world. Like, the real real world he thought to himself. Curious, confused and cold, he tried pressing various buttons in his pod until, the glass glass door hissed and opened. He looked around again and noticed he was in a circular building with gray cryo pods everywhere with people inside them. He looked down and saw that his pod was three from the floor. Mark tried to climb down but his atrophied muscles failed him and he landed with a thud on the metal floor. He looked in awe as he saw the truly massive amount of people trapped in their pods. in this windowless gray building. He saw a door and decided to walk towards it. He opened it and was greeted by a hallway of bright lights. Then he heard the whirring sound of something behind him. He looked through the window in the door and saw a robot fly around, bringing what looked to be a newborn human to an empty cryo pod. Scared and clueless he ran down the hallway. He realize that he was in what used to be a maintenance tunnel. He didnt take any of the other doorways he saw until he came upon a doorway market exit. He then followed that tunnel until he was greeted by a strange door of light. He went through it and realized that now he was outside the building and in the real world. But the real world was nothing like the virtual world. The virtual world in between simulations was a sprawling neon cyberpunk paradise, with huge skyscrapers and multiple floors blotting out the sun, which was replaced by neon lights everywhere. But this, this was different. All mark saw for miles was asphalt, metal and giant buildings, much like the one he just exited, no doubt holding many more people trapped in virtual reality. And also trash. Trash everywhere. It looked like a landfill full of scrap parts with looming towers of metal every so often. "Well what the hell do I do now" Mark said aloud to himself. He heard the sound of gunfire in the distance and saw people shooting at something. With no purpose and nothing left to do, he started to make his way over on his weakened muscles.
​
I know its probably pretty bad, maybe someone will like it though, thanks for reading! | We do not speak his name for it is cursed. We call him the One. He arrived many years ago from the Old Ruins. He has many names and titles, some say he is madness incarnate, death and destruction given human form, bringer of monsters. Others call him a great builder, bringer of mechanical wonders, the life bringer. Still others extol his title of the mightiest eater of cheese. All agree that the One inevitably brings death and destruction wherever he goes.
The stories claim Old Ones were foolish, that they claimed to have perfected a better reality and whisked themselves off to an eternal slumber. Yet we know better, they must have sealed themselves to prevent the world from being destroyed by beings such as the One.
He arrived many moons ago, supposedly a scrawny tiny thing which clawed itself out of the Old Ruins. He was completely delusional, rambling about "menus," "character," and "hard cord mode", whatever they may be but I suppose that is to be expected after eons of undying sleep. A scavenger group had picked him up & made the unfortunate decision to raise him as one of their own (perhaps in hopes he would lead them to valuables of the old world).
Over several moons the One would diligently perform a ritual of sorts without fail. He would lie face down on the floor and push himself up 100 times every day, flip himself on his back, pull himself up, and breathe out 100 times, then stand and squat 100 times, and run about a half of a Old Ruin block. During this time he apparently had an obsession with cheese, demanding all he could find.
Scholars believe the One was performing an archaic ritual to imbue himself with the power of the spirits. Pushing against the floor in an earth ritual, pulling himself up and breathing out to infuse himself with the air spirits, squat down to gain the favor of the fire spirits, and running to become one with the water spirits. Many have attempted the same ritual but all have failed.
One day the One stopped performing his daily ritual and proclaimed he must "grind". We did not know what to make of it but now know that the One meant he was going to grind all of us under his heel like bugs as we must all be inferior like ants to his eyes. In any case the scavenger group that had taken in the One was soon destroyed after the One embarked on a brutal campaign of leading the most terrifying wasteland creatures to civilization. When asked why he supposedly answered with a single word "kiting".
In any case the records are unclear from this point on as few survivors remain from the One's murderous rampage which left entire cities devastated as he led the worst monstrosities such as Neogis, Giffs, and even Tyrannohamstersaurus to city gate after city gate. This led to the death of the great Krag, the Warrior King as he attempted to protect his city from the threat brought by the One. The surviving cities would post sentinels to buy precious time for inhabitants to escape as his arrival, clad in the skin of monsters, running faster than humanly possible, would herald the coming of monsters. Some cities would attempt to attack him on sight although they always failed for his monster leather armor was impervious to our most powerful weaponry, even the strongest city gate would be battered down in a single blow. Eventually the most cunning of Kings, Eownr came upon a tentative solution after pouring through all known records of the One. He took to offering tribute in the form of vast amounts of cheese wheels which was the only known substance to pique the interest of the One while our finest coins of marble, obsidian, and even plastic did not even warrant a glance from the One. When offered a mountain of cheese wheels, the One would leave behind a mountain of monster meat and parts in return. Scholars believe it is due to some sort of honor code the Old Ones follow which states that in 1998, The Undertaker threw Mankind off Hell In A Cell, and plummeted 16 ft through an announcer's table. (I can't do endings well. It was either this or warn people to run from his battle cry of Leeroy Jenkins.)
| |
[WP] Once mankind perfected virtual reality, they chose it over their real one. Years passed and the world they used to inhabit has changed greater than they ever could imagine, not that they cared. One day, the wires of your headset short circuit, allowing you to return to reality. | This is my first time trying a writing prompt so bear with me, hope you enjoy!
​
BOOM! Bullets whizzed overhead as a mortar shell landed near Mark's unit's location. "Oh come on! They're using kill streaks!" Complained Robert after the second mortar shell landed nearby. "Well we'll just have to do better then them", Mark responded. He then popped out of cover to take a shot at a terrorist creeping up on the left flank. "Hey! What the hell are you doing? Robert shouted. "Were gonna get sniped if we peek them!" "Well if we stay here were gonna get hit by..." Mark's retort was cut off by a mortar shell landing directly on their position. "I'm done with this game! He shouted and selected exit to menu from the respawn screen. Mark then found himself in his virtual house, as any player did when they exited a game. Seconds later, he got a pop up message in the corner of his screen from Robert, "Hey dude, why did you ragequit, come on, we could have had them! Do you still wanna play something?" Mark just ignored the message and proceeded to walk around his virtual house. It wasn't much, but the small house that he bought for 10,000 credits was great for getting a little bit of rest before popping into another game or exiting into the virtual world. Getting credits to buy virtual things was easy for someone as skilled at games as Mark.
No one remembered the time when things were different, when things were real. Every one he knew was born into the virtual world with no memories of a past one. No one cared though. Being able to fly, spawn food, change one's appearance at will and never have to work for credits seemed pretty ideal to everyone. Hell, there wasn't even a government or laws since anyone could just do what they wanted in their own single player worlds. Yes, there were still a couple hackers, but anti cheat got them all eventually. No one ever even thought about the old reality.
After conjuring himself a sandwich, Mark jumped on the comfy leather couch and started browsing the new games by looking into the top left of his vision. "Hmm, what have we got here?", he thought to himself as he saw a new game about multiplayer online mech suit battling. "Might as well give it a try" he said as he looked at the download and play game button and blinked to select it. He loaded into the tutorial, which was uninformative and boring as always. He started a multiplayer match and fought another mech in a 1v1. He was winning the fight and as he cockily thought to himself what a noob this other player was, everything suddenly froze. "What is this?' Mark said, his voice shaking. Nothing moved. His mech suit just stood there in mid punch animation, the expression of anger on his opponent's face unchanging. Mark tried to move his hands and face, but nothing registered. As he slowly got more and more paranoid, everything went black.
He shot up from a laying position screaming. He then nervously looked around. "Where in the actual hell am I?" he said. Nothing was familiar. He appeared to be in some sort of escape pod, glass frosted with ice. No, it was a cryo chamber he realized. He then felt cold. Really cold. And he also noticed he had wires sticking in his head and the he really started freaking out. After a minute or so of confusion, he pulled the wires out of his head. Each one hurt, but he was finally free. His body sagged to the ground due to the massive atrophying that his muscles had suffered and fell asleep. He woke up again, still very cold, but now had the energy to figure out what was going on. He looked out his glass door and saw hundreds of cryo pods like his lining the wall opposite him. It was now that he realized that he just woke up form virtual reality into the real world. Like, the real real world he thought to himself. Curious, confused and cold, he tried pressing various buttons in his pod until, the glass glass door hissed and opened. He looked around again and noticed he was in a circular building with gray cryo pods everywhere with people inside them. He looked down and saw that his pod was three from the floor. Mark tried to climb down but his atrophied muscles failed him and he landed with a thud on the metal floor. He looked in awe as he saw the truly massive amount of people trapped in their pods. in this windowless gray building. He saw a door and decided to walk towards it. He opened it and was greeted by a hallway of bright lights. Then he heard the whirring sound of something behind him. He looked through the window in the door and saw a robot fly around, bringing what looked to be a newborn human to an empty cryo pod. Scared and clueless he ran down the hallway. He realize that he was in what used to be a maintenance tunnel. He didnt take any of the other doorways he saw until he came upon a doorway market exit. He then followed that tunnel until he was greeted by a strange door of light. He went through it and realized that now he was outside the building and in the real world. But the real world was nothing like the virtual world. The virtual world in between simulations was a sprawling neon cyberpunk paradise, with huge skyscrapers and multiple floors blotting out the sun, which was replaced by neon lights everywhere. But this, this was different. All mark saw for miles was asphalt, metal and giant buildings, much like the one he just exited, no doubt holding many more people trapped in virtual reality. And also trash. Trash everywhere. It looked like a landfill full of scrap parts with looming towers of metal every so often. "Well what the hell do I do now" Mark said aloud to himself. He heard the sound of gunfire in the distance and saw people shooting at something. With no purpose and nothing left to do, he started to make his way over on his weakened muscles.
​
I know its probably pretty bad, maybe someone will like it though, thanks for reading! | Bob looks around, still a barren wasteland. As he fidgeted with his headset, he came to the conclusion this was it. He was no longer going to go back. Bob realized the reason his headset had snapped with because he jumped off that bridge in the other world. He jumped because he had done all that his imagination could muster He jumped because he knew even in a fantasy he wasn’t good enough. Bob fell to the floor and with his feeble arms crawled out to the new world. Excited and with open arms to greet a new experience, death. | |
[WP] Once mankind perfected virtual reality, they chose it over their real one. Years passed and the world they used to inhabit has changed greater than they ever could imagine, not that they cared. One day, the wires of your headset short circuit, allowing you to return to reality. | "How was work honey?" Jack's wife asked.
"Good, darling." He answered between bites of meatloaf. "The usual nine to five. Everything alright at the homestead?"
"Just perfect darling." She answered giving me a smile.
"I'm glad to hear it." Jack smiled back. He looked at her gorgeous smile and perfect face. He furrowed his brow in bewilderment as he watched a small white circle appear on her forehead. The circle grew in size until it had covered her face. Her voice became thick and distorted, the circle still growing. Jack watched in horror as it engulfed his vision and the sweet sounds of the summer night were replaced by an ear shattering ring. Jack heard a loud crack and was left in darkness.
Realizing he was awake, Jack gingerly removed his headset. The computer readout screen said that his headset had endured a catastrophic failure and would need to be replaced. Not wanting to think what that could mean, Jack nervously unhooked himself from the life support system and opened his pod.
The building was riddled with signs of age. Rebar showed through the cracked cement walls and dust piled in the corners. He wondered how long he had been in the virtual world, realizing he had lost count long ago. Was it years or decades? Centuries? The memory of the creators bragging that their pods could sustain life indefinitely came back to him. The long-winded explanations about cryogenics and REM sleep that he had ignored. Eventually Jack found the room where the excess headsets were stored. He took a new one from the box and turned it over in his hand. He placed it softly on a pile of dust that had found a home atop one of the office desks. Slowly, he approached the door marked exit.
He walked out into what he had believed would be sunlight. Dust and sand covered the buildings. All had been reduced to a gray wasteland. He listened to the piercing whistle of the grit as it flew carelessly over the carcass of the world. Jack took a nervous step back and heard a crunch. His heel had broken the bleached rib cage of a child-sized set of bones.
Jack wanted to re-enter the world he knew, the world that he had grown to love. What's more, he wanted to forget that this other world existed. His chest pounding, he turned to re-enter the building. Half turned towards the door, he stopped cold. A small pair of eyes stared out at him beneath a veil.
Jack looked at his unlikely companion. He stood half as tall as Jack and seem unperturbed by the dust storms. Jack gave a short wave and the being disappeared. Jack gave one look back into the virtual reality warehouse and ran after the alien man.
The being moved nimbly through the dust while Jack plodded along clumsily. His legs were weak and felt awkward after being ignored for so long. Of course, the vr's automatic muscle stimulater kept him in shape, but it did not prepare him for their use. The alien ducked into a building and Jack followed after.
A loud clang alerted Jack to the fact that he was trapped. A guillotine like door had been dropped after he had entered the building, leaving him in pitch blackness. A discordant song arouse from the inky dark. Soon torches were lit and Jack could see into a ring of the child-like creatures. Removing their veils, Jack could see they were no children but were barely men at all.
Many were pock-marked or covered in scabs. Few had both eyes and he could find none that were free of mutations. An extra arm here, no nose on another. All were showing some signs of illness and none were taller than Jack's waist. The mutant with the most ornate dress and fewest physical deformities stepped forward into the lit ring. Jack could see no signs of disease until the being spread his arms wide and opened his cloak. In the mutants chest sat a second small arm that curled and tensed on its own accord.
"Hear me now my children! A Big One had returned from the great beyond!" The evident leader began. "He will return us to glory and to salvation as it had been told!"
Jack stood silently, scanning the room and peering into awe-struck eyes of the mutants.
"What have you to say, Big One? Shall you lead us to glory as was promised to us?" The mutant cried, rattling his staff.
"I... I don't know." Jack whispered, barely audible.
A gasp rose up from the crowd. Angry murmuring began, followed by bitter cries.
"No, no, I just mean, I don't understand." Jack said desperately.
"What ails you Big One?" Asked the elder mutant. "What leaves you questioning us?"
"I just... who are you? And what do you want me to do? What year is it?" Jack asked, feeling cold sweat appear on his forehead.
"It has been 50,936 sleeps since the dust began." The elder replied confidently. "And 49,785 days since the last Big One went to the great beyond, promising they would return to guide us on." The elder finished, narrowing his eyes.
"What is the great beyond?" Jack asked. Shocked cried arose from the crowd, the unrest growing until Jack was sure the circle was closing in around him.
"Silence!" The elder commanded. A few angry murmurs died reluctantly and the elder spoke again. "The great beyond is the mind-world where the Big Ones escaped to after the great fire. They sleep in giant metal eggs where their minds are free to escape to the great beyond. The eggs are unable to work on we low folk because we are impure. The great eggs' cannot peer into our minds like they can the big folk. It was promised to us that the Big One's would return to bring us with them on their journey so that we may escape this world as well."
Jack understood. "Oh. Yes. Yes! I have returned to guide you back to the great beyond!"
The room cheered frantically, joy and relief washing over the mutated crowd. The elder fell to his knees and offered a deep, rumbling prayer. Jack looked around anxiously. The crowd formed in front of him, waiting for him to move. Jack turned on his heels. "Open the gate!"
Jack and his wayward caravan plowed through the dust. Finally, they returned to the building where Jack had come from. Stopping at the door, he turned round to address the crowd.
"I shall return soon to guide you all back. Until then, do not enter this holy site, lest you be damned to wander this world eternally. Keep faith and I shall return!" Jack yelled with open arms. The crowd cheered in excitement as Jack entered the building and shut the door.
They still cheered as Jack wedged a stick of rebar into the door. They cheered as Jack grabbed a headset and ran back to his open pod. The last thing Jack heard before he sealed off his pod was their cheering.
Jack's wife made the best meatloaf. | Bob looks around, still a barren wasteland. As he fidgeted with his headset, he came to the conclusion this was it. He was no longer going to go back. Bob realized the reason his headset had snapped with because he jumped off that bridge in the other world. He jumped because he had done all that his imagination could muster He jumped because he knew even in a fantasy he wasn’t good enough. Bob fell to the floor and with his feeble arms crawled out to the new world. Excited and with open arms to greet a new experience, death. | |
[WP] Once mankind perfected virtual reality, they chose it over their real one. Years passed and the world they used to inhabit has changed greater than they ever could imagine, not that they cared. One day, the wires of your headset short circuit, allowing you to return to reality. | ######[](#dropcap)
"Kayla, I-"
Lucas was just about to apologize to his long-time friend for his bullish behavior when the screen turned black. He waved his hands in front of him, but he couldn't see anything. "Hello?" he asked into the nothingness. But there was no response.
Lucas finally reached for his headset, fumbling with it for a while before he finally got it to un-click. He hadn't had to take this shit off in ages.
He looked over the headset. What the hell? What was wrong with it anyway?
The dim lighting of his bedroom came into view, and he almost didn't recognize it. It had been years since he'd last come out of the simulation. In fact, as far as he knew, it had been years since anyone had last come out of the simulation.
After seeing nothing visibly wrong with the helmet, he sighed. He was going to have to take it to headquarters to get it fixed. He sat on his bed, gazing at the VR pod, then around his room. It was all so unfamiliar now. The clothes piled high on the floor. The flickering lamp on the bedside table. And...his gaze landed on the window and something caught his eye.
He walked towards the window, his footsteps heavy. And...a jungle creeping into his backyard. He took a step back. That wasn't right. Trees had grown where there had definitely been none before, their leaves blocking a good portion of his view from his window. But from what he could see, what should have been sprawling suburban streets had been overrun by nature, giving it a derelict look that reminded him of the apocalyptic scenes he'd seen in old zombie shows.
He bit his lip. A sense of unease stole over him as his gaze flicked towards the setting sun. But the helmet needed to be fixed. So he quickly changed, grabbed the helmet, and headed out.
The streets were completely silent and overrun by potholes and all sorts of plants that sprouted through the cement, cracking the pavement. Not a single soul was out and about. The streets had been getting emptier for years, but it was the first time he'd seen them completely empty.
Like a ghost town.
A chill crept up his spine, and Lucas couldn't help but look back every couple of steps. Maybe it was his imagination, but it felt like something was following him.
He walked faster. The HQ was only a mile away, and he could be there easily within fifteen minutes.
Every few paces, he glanced back, but there was always nothing. He sped up the pace, glancing back, the feeling getting stronger and stronger, no matter how many times he looked back.
Until he bumped into something and fell over.
"Oof," he said, rubbing his head.
"You okay?" A hand appeared in front of him, and he took it.
He looked up, then blinked. "Kayla! I was just about to talk to you!"
She raised her eyebrows and crossed her hands over her chest. "You were?"
"I was about to, uh..." Lucas ruffled the hair on the back of his head in embarrassment, "apologize to you. I was really an asshole, and we were best friends, and I shouldn't have ditched you just to get higher in the leaderboard. Those guys I'm hanging with are assholes."
Kayla's eyes softened. "Apology accepted," she said quietly. "Anyways, what are you doing out here?"
Lucas waved around the helmet in his hand. "Helmet short-circuited. You?"
She lifted her own. "Same."
There was a brief moment of silence. He hadn't talked to her in so long, and he had so much to say. "You wanna walk to HQ together?"
"Yeah."
So they walked side by side. And at first, Lucas resisted the urge to look back, but the feeling of someone's eyes on him grew stronger and stronger until he finally turned around.
"Why do you keep doing that? Turning around?" Kayla looked at him inquisitively.
"Oh." He thought he had been pretty discreet about it. "Um...do you get the feeling that we're being watched?"
Kayla turned around too and scanned the forested area behind them. "You're probably just being paranoid because we haven't been out for so long. How long has it been since you've left the Sim? God, for me it must have been like five years already."
"Same," Lucas said, but he wasn't really focused.
Luckily, the HQ came into view above the treetops, like a pillar that spiraled upwards into the sky. The entire facility had been designed to be one giant satellite antennae, and it broadcasted the signal to all the players nearby. The outside was completely made of glass, and it glowed almost orange in the light of dusk. In short, it was marvelous.
Kayla opened the double doors and walked in. Lucas was about to walk in when he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He whipped around, just in time to see a shadowy figure flash towards the trees. But it didn't look human. In fact, its run looked more like a lope on all fours. But there was no way it was a wolf or coyote either. It was way too big. Human sized. And it looked like it had giant claws.
Lucas backed up until he bumped into the doors. "Kayla! Did you see that?" His voice came out as more of a squeak than anything. Kayla opened the door inwards, and he nearly fell in.
"What? What did you see?"
Lucas pointed towards the trees. "That. It looked human. But also not."
Kayla patted his back. "You're probably imagining things. Come on. Let's get this over with quickly. I still have an arena battle coming up in like an hour."
Maybe Kayla was right. The creature had looked eerily similar to Gorgs in game he was playing. Maybe he was just projecting. The thought immediately made him feel better.
They walked up to the front desk, where a woman sat there staring at her monitor, looking bored.
"Helmet repair?" she asked.
Kayla nodded.
"Third floor."
They took their helmets to the repair shop, where a grizzled old man looked them over, his brow furrowed. "There's nothing wrong with your helmets."
Lucas blinked. "What do you mean there's nothing wrong? They short-circuited. The screen's completely black."
The old man glared at him. "Are you the expert here, or me? I said there's nothing wrong with them."
Kayla was more diplomatic in her approach. "Can you figure out what's wrong?"
The old man snorted. "Of course. It's my job. Let me pull up your info. What are you pod ID's?"
Kayla rattled off a series of numbers, and Lucas followed suit.
The old man's fingers flew over the keyboard, his gaze fixed intensely on the monitor. Then the sound of keys clacking suddenly stopped, and he frowned.
"What's wrong?" Lucas asked.
"It's not your helmets," the old man said. "It's your pods. They're completely offline."
Kayla's brow furrowed. "What do you mean offline?"
"They've been disconnected somehow." He typed something more. "Electrical outage. I'll pull up the cameras of your setup."
Each VR pod came with security cameras to ensure people wouldn't tamper with each others. The Sim had become so real to people that they would do anything to get ahead, and the security cameras ensured sabotage didn't happen.
Lucas bit his fingernails as he watched the old man cycle through footage. Then a funny look came over the old man's face, and he turned his monitors over to them so they could see as well.
Lucas's blood froze.
On screen, a shadowy figure lunged at the cords and ripped them apart, jumping back when the sparks flew out. Then it loped away. It had almost human-like features.
 
And claws.
*****
If you enjoyed this story, I've actually written one with a similar premise about a boy who dies in a VR pod [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/AlannaWu/comments/8b0wvi/wp_you_die_in_a_virtual_reality_pod_and_now_your/)!
r/AlannaWu
| Bob looks around, still a barren wasteland. As he fidgeted with his headset, he came to the conclusion this was it. He was no longer going to go back. Bob realized the reason his headset had snapped with because he jumped off that bridge in the other world. He jumped because he had done all that his imagination could muster He jumped because he knew even in a fantasy he wasn’t good enough. Bob fell to the floor and with his feeble arms crawled out to the new world. Excited and with open arms to greet a new experience, death. | |
[WP] Once mankind perfected virtual reality, they chose it over their real one. Years passed and the world they used to inhabit has changed greater than they ever could imagine, not that they cared. One day, the wires of your headset short circuit, allowing you to return to reality. | I stared down my quarry. A red mountain dragon. I would put it down and reap the rewards the villagers offered. I am a warrior. No I am the warrior. Nothing will stand in my...
“Ow!”
I took the headset off, and it required more than a little bit of effort.... after all I haven’t used my arms in years. I think we are born in our VR worlds. Some people participate in multiplayer servers, others choose or are forced to live where they can only interact with AI.
Struggling to make my way to the door, I’m struck by the lack of background music. At least it’s not suddenly intense while nothing seems out of place, am I right?
I open the door to see... well see is the wrong word, I opened the door to be entranced by a sprawling forest. In the simulation there’s a low poly line of sight model, but I can see detail for miles. I stare at this beautiful landscape for what seems like hours when I finally get a tap on the shoulder...
“Prisoner 7p65a13-4, its time to return to your cell”
Cell? Prisoner? Whatever number he just said?
“I’ve never done anything wrong!” I protest.
The guard looked at me strangely, perhaps pity in his eyes? “You’re entire family lineage has been sentenced to exile from reality. Your forefathers couldn’t be trusted with the environment and it was decided that you would be removed. I suppose fortunately for you rather than mass executions, these simulations were created.”
I knew they were simulations... but I thought they were just better than our crappy world. Staring past the guard through the open door, the lush forest begging to be explored, I ask “How many of us still live outside?”
The guard cocked his head unnaturally to the side. “Humans? None, what part of entire lineage did you miss?” headset powered up again. Again I stood on the edge of a mountain. The dragon below, waiting for the cool steal of my blade.
“What have we done?” | Bob looks around, still a barren wasteland. As he fidgeted with his headset, he came to the conclusion this was it. He was no longer going to go back. Bob realized the reason his headset had snapped with because he jumped off that bridge in the other world. He jumped because he had done all that his imagination could muster He jumped because he knew even in a fantasy he wasn’t good enough. Bob fell to the floor and with his feeble arms crawled out to the new world. Excited and with open arms to greet a new experience, death. | |
[WP] Once mankind perfected virtual reality, they chose it over their real one. Years passed and the world they used to inhabit has changed greater than they ever could imagine, not that they cared. One day, the wires of your headset short circuit, allowing you to return to reality. | Miles and I were rocking the adrenaline, but at the sandworm roundabout, I noticed the first glitch. We'd been maintaining a tenuous lead over a podracer, who was all sorts of ego. I'd figured it was some power-leveler who saw our pixelated model and thought: easy money. Exactly our hustle. But with every sharp turn, the pilot kept plowing through the dunes full speed. Plumes of digitized dust whipped into the air. To be honest, it was pretty sick. The tension was sending my modules into overdrive.
But as Miles strafed into another turn, the worm glitched. The dune rumbled, just like normal, but when the worm burst through the sand, it just...froze. Its mouth gaped towards the sky, razorblades shining, ready to crunch unsuspecting douchebags, but there was no familiar death screech.
There went my buzz.
"The hell?" I screamed over sandstrewn wind. "Did they patch Space Forza? I swear that thing's supposed to lurch."
Miles was smiling ear to ear. Grime streaked from the corners of his squinted eyes. "Hell yeeea--," He shouted. "Did you -ee that? Podrac-- bit the dust!"
I frowned. Every last drip of my adrena had filtered out of my system. The podracer's twin engines still gleamed through the grimy rear window of the buggy. "The hell are you on about? He's still on our tail."
Our buggy blinked.
Suddenly, instead of winding through the rockfall cliffs, we were rounding the corners on the village of the sandsnakes.
"Ah shit. Am I desynced?" I waved my hands in front of Miles's face--to no reaction at all.
My heart sank.
No sync, and all today's winnings were moot. 24 hours of grinding fools for naught. Hell, I'd have to submit a help desk ticket and wait for the troubleshoot. I'd be out of commission for up to a week. My credits couldn't take that sort of hit. I had two boosted graphic cards to pay for. Not to mention the gigs of mem I'd missed payment on last month. Without this week's haul, I'd lose access to my chem boosters, emotion enhancers, even the adrena-shots.
I'd be back in the stone age.
"God damnit!" I said, slamming my fist onto the buggy console.
Except, I didn't make contact.
My gloved fists were vanishing in thin air.
Miles stared at me, a look of horror gripping his features. "Wha--...--ng...Dude...the fu--?"
At first I thought, *seriously? I paid for these gloves outright*.
But then I saw bits of my own skin crumble. Wisped away, like bits of fire in the air.
The sensory module I'd spent too much on whirred to life in my ear. White hot pain shot up the length of my arm.
I screamed at Miles: "Dude, help me!"
And then everything went black.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
A wide eyed girl with cropped blue hair was inches from my nose. "Shhh," she said, hand pressed firmly to my mouth. "For the love of god, don't make a sound."
My eyes whirled in their sockets. Sunlight streamed through iron rafters. Birds chirped somewhere in the distance. I was in a warehouse of some sort. Rusted and dilapidated. All around me were people, sleeping, hooked to their VRs. "Wharm th- furmk im goim om?" I mumbled.
"Shhhh, you'll be alright, just keep quiet," the woman said again. Her breath smelled like coffee. The grimy bandanna on her forehead looked slick with sweat, and there was a quivering excitement behind her hazel eyes. From somewhere behind her, a man whispered: "I can't believe it worked."
"You gonna let the poor kid up?" asked another.
I managed a glimpse at the rest of her group. Two pointy-faced men stood, patting eachother on the shoulder. Which was harder for one than the other, seeing as one was nearly two heads taller. Beside them, shaking her head in disbelief, was an older woman missing an eye. When my gaze passed over her, she smiled. Dirt and grime caked their faces. They were all decked out in tattered leather. Not an inch of them appeared to be digitized.
Adrenaline rocked my system for all the wrong reasons.
*Holy shit.* I'd been yanked from the grid. Defaulted to *reality*.
The group of defaulters just kept looking at me and smiling. The two men couldn't help but murmur to themselves.
"Quiet," the blue haired woman hissed. "Don't you hear it?"
The group stood stock still.
I whimpered beneath the woman's hand.
All I could hear was the creaks of the warehouse and the chirps of the birds. Every twist of the breeze was just reaffirmation that my life had been ruined.
Suddenly, everyone went pale.
I hadn't heard anything unusual, but the group looked to the blue-haired woman with wide eyes.
She shot up like a bullet.
"Hey!" I said. But nobody paid me any mind.
"Pres, take the kid," the woman said. The larger of the pointy faces nodded. "Ren, the horses."
Everyone began scrambling, packing up backpacks with ancient gear, rushing around as quietly as they could manage. From the far end of the warehouse, a dog barked like mad.
I tried to slide out of my seat, but my legs felt incredibly weak. Instead, the large dude ambled towards me, scooped me up and slung me over his shoulder. As he did so, the barking at the far end of the warehouse was cut short by a yelp.
A solitary moment of silence followed.
"Let's get the hell out of here," the blue haired woman said, voice suddenly shaky.
It didn't take an analyzer to gauge the fear in their eyes.
I imagine my own eyes looked much the same.
When I was still plugged, I'd splurged on all the enhancers. Emotions ripped through my digitized veins so fast I'd nearly lose feeling in my toes. I'm talking the sort of stuff that nearly made you feel your own heartbeat. It was an addiction. The very cusp of VR technology. Miles and I craved that magnificent high.
As they hauled me through that dilapidated warehouse, I was so scared my throat nearly closed up.
Adrena-shots.
Menta Modules.
None of them held a candle to the real thing.
-------------
**Edit** At work at the moment, but this story will grow into a few parts over at r/M0Zark
Appreciate the interest! & I hope to see you there :)
| Bob looks around, still a barren wasteland. As he fidgeted with his headset, he came to the conclusion this was it. He was no longer going to go back. Bob realized the reason his headset had snapped with because he jumped off that bridge in the other world. He jumped because he had done all that his imagination could muster He jumped because he knew even in a fantasy he wasn’t good enough. Bob fell to the floor and with his feeble arms crawled out to the new world. Excited and with open arms to greet a new experience, death. | |
[WP] Once mankind perfected virtual reality, they chose it over their real one. Years passed and the world they used to inhabit has changed greater than they ever could imagine, not that they cared. One day, the wires of your headset short circuit, allowing you to return to reality. | Miles and I were rocking the adrenaline, but at the sandworm roundabout, I noticed the first glitch. We'd been maintaining a tenuous lead over a podracer, who was all sorts of ego. I'd figured it was some power-leveler who saw our pixelated model and thought: easy money. Exactly our hustle. But with every sharp turn, the pilot kept plowing through the dunes full speed. Plumes of digitized dust whipped into the air. To be honest, it was pretty sick. The tension was sending my modules into overdrive.
But as Miles strafed into another turn, the worm glitched. The dune rumbled, just like normal, but when the worm burst through the sand, it just...froze. Its mouth gaped towards the sky, razorblades shining, ready to crunch unsuspecting douchebags, but there was no familiar death screech.
There went my buzz.
"The hell?" I screamed over sandstrewn wind. "Did they patch Space Forza? I swear that thing's supposed to lurch."
Miles was smiling ear to ear. Grime streaked from the corners of his squinted eyes. "Hell yeeea--," He shouted. "Did you -ee that? Podrac-- bit the dust!"
I frowned. Every last drip of my adrena had filtered out of my system. The podracer's twin engines still gleamed through the grimy rear window of the buggy. "The hell are you on about? He's still on our tail."
Our buggy blinked.
Suddenly, instead of winding through the rockfall cliffs, we were rounding the corners on the village of the sandsnakes.
"Ah shit. Am I desynced?" I waved my hands in front of Miles's face--to no reaction at all.
My heart sank.
No sync, and all today's winnings were moot. 24 hours of grinding fools for naught. Hell, I'd have to submit a help desk ticket and wait for the troubleshoot. I'd be out of commission for up to a week. My credits couldn't take that sort of hit. I had two boosted graphic cards to pay for. Not to mention the gigs of mem I'd missed payment on last month. Without this week's haul, I'd lose access to my chem boosters, emotion enhancers, even the adrena-shots.
I'd be back in the stone age.
"God damnit!" I said, slamming my fist onto the buggy console.
Except, I didn't make contact.
My gloved fists were vanishing in thin air.
Miles stared at me, a look of horror gripping his features. "Wha--...--ng...Dude...the fu--?"
At first I thought, *seriously? I paid for these gloves outright*.
But then I saw bits of my own skin crumble. Wisped away, like bits of fire in the air.
The sensory module I'd spent too much on whirred to life in my ear. White hot pain shot up the length of my arm.
I screamed at Miles: "Dude, help me!"
And then everything went black.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
A wide eyed girl with cropped blue hair was inches from my nose. "Shhh," she said, hand pressed firmly to my mouth. "For the love of god, don't make a sound."
My eyes whirled in their sockets. Sunlight streamed through iron rafters. Birds chirped somewhere in the distance. I was in a warehouse of some sort. Rusted and dilapidated. All around me were people, sleeping, hooked to their VRs. "Wharm th- furmk im goim om?" I mumbled.
"Shhhh, you'll be alright, just keep quiet," the woman said again. Her breath smelled like coffee. The grimy bandanna on her forehead looked slick with sweat, and there was a quivering excitement behind her hazel eyes. From somewhere behind her, a man whispered: "I can't believe it worked."
"You gonna let the poor kid up?" asked another.
I managed a glimpse at the rest of her group. Two pointy-faced men stood, patting eachother on the shoulder. Which was harder for one than the other, seeing as one was nearly two heads taller. Beside them, shaking her head in disbelief, was an older woman missing an eye. When my gaze passed over her, she smiled. Dirt and grime caked their faces. They were all decked out in tattered leather. Not an inch of them appeared to be digitized.
Adrenaline rocked my system for all the wrong reasons.
*Holy shit.* I'd been yanked from the grid. Defaulted to *reality*.
The group of defaulters just kept looking at me and smiling. The two men couldn't help but murmur to themselves.
"Quiet," the blue haired woman hissed. "Don't you hear it?"
The group stood stock still.
I whimpered beneath the woman's hand.
All I could hear was the creaks of the warehouse and the chirps of the birds. Every twist of the breeze was just reaffirmation that my life had been ruined.
Suddenly, everyone went pale.
I hadn't heard anything unusual, but the group looked to the blue-haired woman with wide eyes.
She shot up like a bullet.
"Hey!" I said. But nobody paid me any mind.
"Pres, take the kid," the woman said. The larger of the pointy faces nodded. "Ren, the horses."
Everyone began scrambling, packing up backpacks with ancient gear, rushing around as quietly as they could manage. From the far end of the warehouse, a dog barked like mad.
I tried to slide out of my seat, but my legs felt incredibly weak. Instead, the large dude ambled towards me, scooped me up and slung me over his shoulder. As he did so, the barking at the far end of the warehouse was cut short by a yelp.
A solitary moment of silence followed.
"Let's get the hell out of here," the blue haired woman said, voice suddenly shaky.
It didn't take an analyzer to gauge the fear in their eyes.
I imagine my own eyes looked much the same.
When I was still plugged, I'd splurged on all the enhancers. Emotions ripped through my digitized veins so fast I'd nearly lose feeling in my toes. I'm talking the sort of stuff that nearly made you feel your own heartbeat. It was an addiction. The very cusp of VR technology. Miles and I craved that magnificent high.
As they hauled me through that dilapidated warehouse, I was so scared my throat nearly closed up.
Adrena-shots.
Menta Modules.
None of them held a candle to the real thing.
-------------
**Edit** At work at the moment, but this story will grow into a few parts over at r/M0Zark
Appreciate the interest! & I hope to see you there :)
| I stared down my quarry. A red mountain dragon. I would put it down and reap the rewards the villagers offered. I am a warrior. No I am the warrior. Nothing will stand in my...
“Ow!”
I took the headset off, and it required more than a little bit of effort.... after all I haven’t used my arms in years. I think we are born in our VR worlds. Some people participate in multiplayer servers, others choose or are forced to live where they can only interact with AI.
Struggling to make my way to the door, I’m struck by the lack of background music. At least it’s not suddenly intense while nothing seems out of place, am I right?
I open the door to see... well see is the wrong word, I opened the door to be entranced by a sprawling forest. In the simulation there’s a low poly line of sight model, but I can see detail for miles. I stare at this beautiful landscape for what seems like hours when I finally get a tap on the shoulder...
“Prisoner 7p65a13-4, its time to return to your cell”
Cell? Prisoner? Whatever number he just said?
“I’ve never done anything wrong!” I protest.
The guard looked at me strangely, perhaps pity in his eyes? “You’re entire family lineage has been sentenced to exile from reality. Your forefathers couldn’t be trusted with the environment and it was decided that you would be removed. I suppose fortunately for you rather than mass executions, these simulations were created.”
I knew they were simulations... but I thought they were just better than our crappy world. Staring past the guard through the open door, the lush forest begging to be explored, I ask “How many of us still live outside?”
The guard cocked his head unnaturally to the side. “Humans? None, what part of entire lineage did you miss?” headset powered up again. Again I stood on the edge of a mountain. The dragon below, waiting for the cool steal of my blade.
“What have we done?” | |
[WP] You work at hero affairs, helping protagonists adjust to normal life after saving the world. | T:''Okay Jack, so we're back at square one,'' Said the temp agent. ''Don't worry, we'll figure something out together, but let's just analyse where it went wrong so it doesn't happen again, okay?''
J:''Okay''
T:''Okay. So start at the beginning, the construction company said you were very late. How did that happen?''
J:''..''
T:''..''
J:''..''
T:''Jack. You have to answer me.''
J:''..''
T:''Jack. We've been over this. There's not going to be a cutscene to explain this to me. You need to actually tell me. In detail. Like we practiced. Okay?''
J:''Oh right, yeah. I forgot, my bad. Right, so I got up at 8 in the morning. I checked the room for food but I didn't find any.''
T''Did you remember to buy any? Remember, you need to actually buy food in advance and place it in your fridge so you have it ready when you need it.''
J:''I tried to the day before, but I ran out of money. I was gonna pay them in wolf pelts but the supermarket apparently didn't accept those''.
T:''Jack, you were given a 5.000 dollar budget to cover some of year early expenses by the government to get you on your feet. What did you do with all that money?''
J:''Oh that? I spent it on this cool new sword. It has like, a much higher attack then my old one.''
T:''Jack...''
J:''I tried selling my old sword to the supermarket in exchange for groceries as well. But they didn't accept that either.''
T:*sigh* ''Okay then. So did you leave the house shortly after that? It says here you didn't arrive at the construction site until 16.00. So what took you so long?''
J:''Oh that. Well I was following the route to the site, but I needed to check the side paths for extra loot. That took a while I guess…. I found a wallet though! So I used that to lower my hunger a bit. But yeah, I didn't realize it was a timed event, and the annoying foreman wouldn't even let me have a do-over!''
T:''Jack I understand that this transition is hard but you can't just d-
T:''So we will again go over what I've taught you so the next t-
T:''So the first th-
T:''And after that you n-
T:''Jack are you skipping m-
T:''Jack this is serious, you ca-
T:''Stop, you need t-
T:''Ja- | Sat in front of me was a young man in a purple jumpsuit, cloaked in a cape of dreams and wearing a domino mask of infinite vision. His eyes were dead.
"Alex?" I asked for the fourth time.
He blinked and turned to me, quickly apologizing. I couldn't tell if he was observing some strange occurrence from across the universe or just staring into space (so to speak). It was clear he hadn't shaved or showered in a few days. I wasn't even sure he'd eaten anything since the adventure. Or if he needed to eat anymore. You'd never have guessed that this was the man who saved the entire world just a week before. I sighed.
"Alex, please. Just a few simple questions."
"Okay, sure. Okay." He was still eyeing the glass door over his shoulder even though I'd already shut the blinds. The interns couldn't help but peek in on The Visionary.
"Where are you living right now?" I asked, clicking on my pen and readying my clipboard.
"Nowhere in particular," he replied, too quickly for comfort.
"Do you mean you've been bouncing around the city? Other dimensions or dreams? Are you homeless?"
"*I'm fine*," he growled. I wasn't getting anywhere this way. Alex Martinez was not going to be a regular case.
I put down the clipboard and got up from my seat. This surprised Alex, who seemed to sober up as his thoughts raced to figure out my game. I walked over to a framed newspaper on the wall to my left.
"You know what happened here?" I pointed to the headline: "KALTONIANS DECLARE DEFEAT, WAR IS OVER." Alex pondered the question and started to drift, prompting me to snap my fingers.
"That was Firmaman's last adventure. He sacrificed his cosmic armor to defeat...something," he answered almost like a smartphone assistant.
"He sacrificed his arm, too," I added, tapping the frame with my prosthetic finger. "The invaders of Kalton 7 declared war on the entire planet. Fighting went on for a full month. Eventually, when the Earth's armies and heroes were at their wit's end, Firmaman stepped up to end the conflict once and for all. He pushed himself and his Firmacape further than ever before, dismantling the entire Kaltonian army in a day. No one else died."
Alex shot me an odd look, skeptical as to where I was going with this. I just smiled and put my palm on frame, activating the hand scanner. Within a nanosecond, we were transported to the roof of the building. Alex fell on his ass, spinning around to look for the chair that was no longer there. He then snapped toward me, walking angrily with fire in his eyes (not literally).
"Where the hell are we?! I can't believe I let Amy convince me to--"
I held a robot finger up to my mouth, which seemed to stop him in his tracks. Then, I pointed to the egg in the middle of the roof.
We made our way to it together, Alex cautious of the rainbownic waves bending just below the eggshell. I could tell he tried to use his mask to see into it and became concerned when it didn't work. When he got close enough, though, he could make out the strange looking being gestating within.
"I call her Eli. She's been up her for about, oh, about two and a half decades now. Every big brain I know tells me she won't hatch for another 50 years or so. But when she does, she'll become the new Firmaman. Or Firmawoman or--," I chuckled to myself. "You get it."
"What are trying to say, here?" Alex asked, not taking his eyes off the Firmegg.
"When Firmaman saved the world all those years ago, I'm sure...I *know* it took him quite a while to get the war out of his head. What he did was a last resort, a move that could've resulted in the entire universe transmuting into quantum foam. Not to mention, all the lives lost before that..." He looked up me as I fought back the tears.
"It kept him up at night. The what ifs and what could have beens. But eventually, he realized that worrying about such things do no good to anyone. They just keep us down. They keep us from focusing on what we're here for." I gently patted the egg.
"You did what he did all those years ago, Alex." He collapsed in my arms and bawled his eyes out. I comforted him as best I could.
"You did all you *could* do."
...
The two of us stood at the edge of the roof, gripping the railing and looking out over the sunset. The city always looks beautiful this time of evening. After a few hours, Alex stood straight up and looked at me; he didn't need to say anything else.
"Start at the beginning."
"Well, I guess it was really when I got the cloak..." | |
[WP] It’s discovered that the mayor of a town is, in fact, two 8 year olds in a trench coat. | [BREAKING NEWS]
After a several week long investigation into the allegations made against Redwood Valley’s own mayor Vincent Adultman, new facts have just been uncovered by this newspaper’s investigative reporting team. The mayor, is not who this town thinks he is. Information has just been released that the mayor is actually two 8 year olds sitting on one another’s shoulders and wearing a trench coat.
On August 4th 2018 the mayor’s American citizenship was called into question due to his very deep, and almost fake sounding accent. Before long a petition was started by citizens of Redwood Valley for the mayor to release his birth certificate to which the mayor’s crotch released a statement saying
“Those guys are so nosy! It’s none of their business. Leave us- I mean me alone.”
This sparked suspicion in the eyes of this newspaper, and an in depth investigation was soon launched. It wasn’t until August 27th 2018 that the truth was revealed by a pair of reporters that followed Mr. Adultman to his home after work where he was seen taking off his trench coat and the two 8 year olds inside split apart before heading in to finish play Mario Kart on their Nintendo switch.
We interviewed several locals to Redwood Valley to get their thoughts on the matter.
“I mean yeah... he’s like 9 feet tall and his arms only reach maybe halfway through his sleeves. I thought we all voted for him as a joke. Y’know like that one town with a dog as their mayor? Christ did you guys really not know? His name is ‘Vincent ADULT MAN’ I mean come on.”
“Well I kind of figured, what with the voice and all. He very clearly sounds like a child attempting to be an adult. Not even to mention the fact that his crotch has been feeding him lines when he loses his train of thought during speeches”
Information is still coming to light, but so far all that we know is Vincent Adultman’s crotch has been grounded from TV and playing outside for 3 months. Information on the top half of the mayor’s punishment has yet to be released.
| "I want you two to tell me WHY EXACTLY you did this, NOW."
"Honey..."
"Mary, our sons just committed multiple cases of fraud, and our town is paying for it. If now isn't the time to get angry and start yelling, I don't know when is."
Tom and Sam looked like they just saw ghosts. Being waterboarded. Nervous doesn't even begin to describe the look on these two's faces. I looked to my partner for help. Yelling and screaming wasn't going to help get our defense started. I thought that getting the parents involved in this would get the twins more comfortable, but it seemed the father was taking a more... agressive approach to this. It certainly didn't help that we were still in the station. For them, I guess, this was like getting sent to the principal's office, but it was the next rung up the ladder, sporting concrete, steel, and white paint, instead of the light brown and yellow of the local school. It wasn't a place for kids, troublemakers or not.
You see, these two were divisive figures already at their young age. We have had a bad string of mayors in Blueville, and at this point, we were looking for a normal guy to step up and... really, we didn't care. We were just tired of the money laundering schemes that seemed to pervade our political office. So when a mysterious stranger, offering to fix the potholes and to, finally, tear down the big abandoned house in the middle of town, the place where those other two kids died, we all jumped on it. But now that his suspicious trench coat, high voice, and unbalanced self was revealed as just two kids, phoning it in with what they saw on tv, there was controversy, obviously. Two kids running the town? How could we let it get this way?
The thing me and my partner are arguing, is the fact that they didn't do too bad of a job. | |
[WP] It’s discovered that the mayor of a town is, in fact, two 8 year olds in a trench coat. | [BREAKING NEWS]
After a several week long investigation into the allegations made against Redwood Valley’s own mayor Vincent Adultman, new facts have just been uncovered by this newspaper’s investigative reporting team. The mayor, is not who this town thinks he is. Information has just been released that the mayor is actually two 8 year olds sitting on one another’s shoulders and wearing a trench coat.
On August 4th 2018 the mayor’s American citizenship was called into question due to his very deep, and almost fake sounding accent. Before long a petition was started by citizens of Redwood Valley for the mayor to release his birth certificate to which the mayor’s crotch released a statement saying
“Those guys are so nosy! It’s none of their business. Leave us- I mean me alone.”
This sparked suspicion in the eyes of this newspaper, and an in depth investigation was soon launched. It wasn’t until August 27th 2018 that the truth was revealed by a pair of reporters that followed Mr. Adultman to his home after work where he was seen taking off his trench coat and the two 8 year olds inside split apart before heading in to finish play Mario Kart on their Nintendo switch.
We interviewed several locals to Redwood Valley to get their thoughts on the matter.
“I mean yeah... he’s like 9 feet tall and his arms only reach maybe halfway through his sleeves. I thought we all voted for him as a joke. Y’know like that one town with a dog as their mayor? Christ did you guys really not know? His name is ‘Vincent ADULT MAN’ I mean come on.”
“Well I kind of figured, what with the voice and all. He very clearly sounds like a child attempting to be an adult. Not even to mention the fact that his crotch has been feeding him lines when he loses his train of thought during speeches”
Information is still coming to light, but so far all that we know is Vincent Adultman’s crotch has been grounded from TV and playing outside for 3 months. Information on the top half of the mayor’s punishment has yet to be released.
| Reporter: “Mayor, mayor. How do you respond to these allegations that you’re actually just two eight year olds in a trench coat.”
Mayor(s): “I suppose the truth was bound to get out eventually. We only wanted to make the town a better place. It’s why we took it upon ourselves to improve public parks and swimming pools, make school lunches less icky, and ban homework. It’s why we advocated for later bedtimes. It’s why we supported longer summer vacations. It’s why all of our charity events were actually just local Fortnite tournaments. We’re sorry, mom and dad. We didn’t mean to lie. We just wanted to have fun and make the world a bette place for our friends.”
| |
[WP] Beyond the orbit of Jupiter, humanity watches as two massive fleets of spacecraft materialize and engage in battle. The two powers most likely didn't even notice the pale blue dot further in system, but in a scant 2000 years, the tech left behind would raise humanity to be their conquerers... | The last fifty cycles had been the strangest in the history of the Huell Empire.
Since the savages' crude, steelwrought jumpships had breached the inner frontier the Warfleet had been in a state of disbelief. That a third faction would try and interfere in the Sunbounds-Huell war was already insane enough, but to do so with such obsolete machines? The Astalari dispatched five Spearheads with more curiosity than urgency, and observed with mild intereset the reports of the battle - no, slaughter would have been a more appropriate word - that had taken place at the frontier. In the end almost all of Warfleet agreed that the unnamed, mysterious race of bipeds did not constitute a threat in any realistic way, and that the Sunbounds had to remain their only priority for the time being.
The second wave arrived twelve cycles later, setting off alarms in six systems. Warfleet recognized Sunbound cruisers and a weird mix of old, retired Huell ships heading towards a Quarter Capital. The response was immediate, violent, and probably unnecessary - as it was soon revealed that the rogue fleet was composed of ancient models, relics of the millenia past. The Spearheads did not think much of the invaders, not even when a small contigent of the bipeds made it through the defenses and tried unsuccesfully to set off some kind of Solar Detonators on the surface of the Quarter Capital. New probes were sent around the frontier, looking for any of the telling signs of gatewaves produced by the primitive jumpdrives belonging to the so called "Phantom Fleet."
The third wave changed everything.
It did not arrive from a single direction, for once. While the first two Phantom Fleets had used simple jumpdrives, who merely convinced causality to look the other way while the ship slid through the folds of the continuum, the third wave deployed some sort of new, enigmatic gate tech. Shimmering portals of white starlight opened over twenty one worlds, six of which Quarter Capitals, and vomited a fleet of never before seen monstruosities into Huell space.
They did not resemble the sleek, organic design of the Warfleet, nor the crystalline and symmetric elegance of the Sunbounds. They were blocky, pragmatic things, made of unimaginative squares and rectangles of cold simplicity. When the Spearheads moved to intercept their grey plating proved immune to even the most devastating laser arrays, impervious to the gamma ray emulators, and unfazed by even the negator engines that were hastily deployed in a moment of desperation. It became soon evident that their defenses were somehow combining the chitinal-bound molecular plating and the Sunbounds' signature resonance shields, a fusion considered impossible by even the most heretic of Huell scientists. The firepower of the Phantom Fleet, however, didn't appear outside the ordinary. The Warfleet was unable to repel the invades, but managed to stall them, grind their invasion to an halt. Or so they thought.
In one single moment, the grey ships fired their hidden main cannons. In one single moment, twenty one planet blinked out of existence.
Destruction on this scale was never theorized, much less experienced by the Huell Empire. Nothing could have prepared the Astalari for the disappearance of over half their colonized worlds, nor the panic that followed. A desperate attempt was made to contact the Sunbounds, hoping to enstablish some kind of alliance. The Astalari Councils plead was met with the dead silence of ultrawaves and the tragedy of more shattered world-husks.
Defeat was not only the inevitable future, but the dreaded present. The bipeds - who called themselves "Terrans" after their homeworld - took control of the remaining colonies. Communications were enstablished between the Astalari and the Terran hierarchy, first through ultrawaves and then through brief but terrifying meetings, often inside their planet-killers themselves.
G'hura met his first Terran when he was summoned, together with the rest of the Astalari, to sign the terms of the official surrender. As she clasped her four front legs in a sort of prayer pose she found a question burning in the back of her brain. The question continued to torment her as she observed the disgusting, many-colored bipeds lord all over the once proud Council and inform them with their barely-comprehensible translators of the cruel regime they planned to impose. The question finally emerged demicycles later, when she managed to beg her way into a private audience with the Terrans' equivalent of an Astalari: a creature called High Admiral Melissa Browns.
The question was simple enough that the translation device didn't need any time to process it.
"Why?"
The Terran took some time. First to elaborate the answer, then to feed it through the thinking-machine. It took even longer for it to finally reach G'hura's antennas.
"Our species met 2000 [years] ago. Your people probably keeps no records of it. We were barely beginning to escape our gravitation prison on Earth, and you were caught up in your war. There was a great battle near a planet we used to call Jupiter. Your weapons were mighty even then, and many ships found their end in the orbit of that gas giants. But so many shots missed their target, and some of those wayward bullets reached our first colonies. It was a nightmare, a catastrophe in our history books."
G'hura listened, a sense of dread slowly taking over her hearts.
"As i said, you probably didn't even notice then. We were [cockroaches], clinging to our rocks in the cold void. And you were, well, giants. You didn't notice the few billions of dead [cockroaches]. You fought your battle and left, while were still there to pick up the scraps. It took centuries for our population to recover enough to send probes to the battlesite. Centuries more to understand even the most basic tech. But once we unlocked the secrets of those ships, of their weapons, of their jumpdrives...we grew, and we grew fast."
The biped seemed to enjoy every sound coming out of the translator, as if she could somehow understand the words spoken in the Huell language. Her savage teeth shined bright under fleshy lips, parting in an universal sign of dominance.
"We were motivated, you see. We knew that what happened was not a brutal attack from an unknown enemy, nor the malice of green aliens like those in our [movies]. It was a simple act of distraction, collateral damage in the war of giants. As such we had a simple objective, a burning species-wide desire that aligned with our most primal instincts."
Despite being much smaller than G'hura, the Terran seemed to grow in size and menace with every word uttered by the translator. She now reigned over the room, tainting the air with the brutality implied in her speech.
"We desired to never again be trampled, to never again have to cower in fear watching the stars. To never again tremble when some unknown fleet swooped in from beyond Sol. To accomplish this we couldn't just defend ourselves. They say that the only way to get rid of trauma is to face it. So we resolved to just do that. To never again be afraid of giants, we had to become them."
The Terran moved in closer and did something unthinkable. She spoke to G'hura in the language of Huell, desecrating the poetic speech with her alien mouth, slogging though a single phrase she had to have practiced for hours and hours.
"[We are not afraid anymore.]"
| It was said that at night on a quiet hill one could see the pulsing lights if you knew where to look. Telescopes around the world had remained glued to the events out beyond Jupiter for the five days it raged. Pictures and video had leaked out within the first hour, the truth that we weren't alone in the universe at once revelatory and alarming. A war was raging in our solar system between vast space going armadas. We'd waited with baited breath waiting for whatever was going to happen next to occur. Would we be greeted as equals into a larger universe? Invaded and enslaved? Treated like intergalactic bumpkins? In the end the worst possible thing came to pass - we were ignored.
There was no coming together for the planet, no becoming brethren. It became a race, a gold rush, but with so much gold that it mattered little who arrived first. What used to be called the Russians should arrived first, brave men in a tiny ship ill designed for the task other than speed but a malfunction meant it reached it's destination lifeless. The ship that would be first to exploit the vast wealth of knowledge was a suicide mission that didn't end as planned. Twenty souls spent four years in a ship designed only to get them there. The plan had been that they'd send back the data until they could no more, and the world would celebrate their sacrifice. What they found instead would allow them, and the technology that would revolutionize our existence, back across the solar system in hours.
From this fount of knowledge came the medicines, the machines, the ideas that have made the human being the pinnacle of existence. Today Pax Ameri-Canada is over six hundred sixty billion people on more three hundred worlds, from Old Mars to Caspra Vigiland to the Louden cluster, and is served by four vassal empires. We are the largest empire in known space, and are proud to soon to add the Telligen empire to the fold.
But did you know that we owe much to the Telligen? Although they're empire is now a mere twenty decrepit worlds, the crumbling Telligen empire was one of those two armadas that waged war over Old Earth.
Well, enough with the introduction. Today's' lesson will cover a bit more detail about the evolution of five of the prime driver technologies including *Interlocunation* and *Cluster Drives* derived from Telligen sources. I know, that's early education stuff, but we will finish up with a detailed review of the current state of that much improved technology and it's use in the "policing action" against that barbarous race as well as the political and economic ramifications. Now, I've set your screens to live education, there will points awarded for participation, and I will not be in my office after class I have an appointment. | |
[WP] Beyond the orbit of Jupiter, humanity watches as two massive fleets of spacecraft materialize and engage in battle. The two powers most likely didn't even notice the pale blue dot further in system, but in a scant 2000 years, the tech left behind would raise humanity to be their conquerers... | To our children, humanity, who we deem as our inheritors,
We were born alone, a single race in a dead galaxy. When we had evolved far enough to seek out the stars, we found nothing but burned stars and ruins of civilizations that had been wiped out. So we sought to reseed the galaxy with life, to bring to you what we could not have ourselves.
It was not a perfect process, for we were not perfect. We fought against ourselves and even exterminated the very life we created, believing those not like our own flesh and steel were unnatural and unfit of living. Many of us even ruled over our children, calling ourselves gods.
The wars that resulted between us were great, but terrible. Entire planets and solar systems wiped off the galaxy by weapons too devastating to describe. In the end, many of our children perished, yet you, humanity, survived.
We watched in fascination as you became the brightest of our children, ever curious about the world around you. We felt pride as you learned to craft beautiful art that grew even more intricate with time. We carried disappointment as you learned the ways of warfare and grew even more violent. However, we never interfered, for we never meant to lead you, only to protect you.
And protect you we did. Those who had once destroyed the civilizations that came before us had returned, and we were unprepared for them. We fought and died as it consumed life itself, bringing the galaxy once again to the brink of ruin. In the end, we sealed away the crisis and ensured the continued survival of you along with your siblings, but we had lost too much.
We did not mean for it to end this way. We did not mean to show ourselves to you in a show of violence in your solar system. Our plans for you were larger still, as many of us dreamed of the day we could finally meet you. Yet in the end, the only thing we can do is offer you what remains of our civilization and a warning.
Beware, our children, beware of the *[ERROR: DATA CORRUPTED]* | Richards glanced up from the bluish white glow of the monitor on his wrist. There was a sea of bioluminescence in front of him from the small moons alien algae that had rapidly developed on this tiny irregular satellite aptly named Harpalyke after some Greek god infidelity humanity hardly remembered. The raft he was on rocked back and forth across the glowing waves. The water here didn’t smell like salt like it did on Earth, it had more of a musky, off putting odor of rot. Jean Richards, recently promoted to Captain in our worlds space based exploration/planet protection fleet, did not care for the smell at all.
“This is Captain Richards reporting immediate impressions after landing.” AI systems in place have or course already transmitted all pertinent data back to the base, Richards was just following procedure. As he gazed out over the green, putrid smelling glow of the ocean on this formally cold and dry world, he couldn’t help but feeling a little ominous of what he would find here. This was a essentially a suicide mission, even though no one at the World Space Agency would admit it to him. They called it a “high risk mission”. Richards snorted laughter at that phrase again as he looked back down at his watch to see how long the AI had left to scan the rock and find out what had caused it to go from a cold, dry moon of Jupiter to a seething ball of water and glowing life?
All the eggheads back at the Pentagon were in a tizzy over the huge battle that humanity had witnessed 5 and a half years ago. It had taken that long just to get here and in that time we had learned almost nothing of the advanced species that had held a brief war in our solar system, and essentially destroyed each other leaving the survivors to scramble. The big talking heads all were screaming for the technology floating around out here but when the WSA told them about the life appearing on Harpalyke in the form of a glowing ocean, they issued an immediate order of my promotion and then handing me this mission. Nice guys, right?
A sudden beeping from my implants in my ear commanded my attention “Captain Richards.” The voice spoke directly through my earpiece that only humans should have in a cold, emotionless voice with utterly no inflection or tone. It must be an AI system of some kind, left over from the battle. Why would it make contact with me? Did it mean any harm? All these questions ran through my mind as I comm’d back with a general broadcast. “ This is Cpt. Richards of the WSO Fleet 10. Who am I speaking with?” Silence from the other end of the line. Again, then. “This is Cpt. Richards of the WS-“ He was cut short by a blinding white light and high pitched whine that seem to cut his skull in two blasting out nowhere, blocking out any visual of the survey raft or ocean he had just been on. Richards screamed as the light seemed to rattle around in his head, becoming higher pitched and more intense with every second. He began to shake violently and rose up into the air several feet before it all went dark and he was dropped back into the raft. Collapsing in a heap laying on the rough orange rubber, Richards sobbed in the neon green light from the ocean.
More later! | |
[WP] Beyond the orbit of Jupiter, humanity watches as two massive fleets of spacecraft materialize and engage in battle. The two powers most likely didn't even notice the pale blue dot further in system, but in a scant 2000 years, the tech left behind would raise humanity to be their conquerers... | "Watch, human, you tread on hallowed ground."
Admiral Sheng yawned, intentionally and slightly exaggeratedly. "Yes, of course, this technological creche of yours is a tomb after all."
Fzehhan growled, his hairlike manipulators writhing in irritation. "We should have fought you to the end before allowing this indignity."
"You'd have died," the young Admiral reminded the alien coolly, "and then we'd simply have come anyway."
Both were silent after that. It was a truth that Fzehhan would rather had remained unspoken. They tread deeper into the depths of the tomb complex, the dust of ages swirling around the careful steps of the alien and the tromping boots of the man.
Great pillars of basalt climbed into the vast and vaulted ceiling. Cracked frescoes, thousands of years old, covered the walls and ceiling, depicting the wonders and glories of the First Emperor. The tomb radiated power and authority that Fzehhan and his degenerate race had not wielded in millennia. Even the admiral could not help but feel some slight tingle of awe.
"How did it come to this," he asked at last. "From control over half the galaxy to a few scattered rocks."
Fzehhan growled again. "You think your empire will last forever. Forever is a stupid, barbarian, human word. To exist for even a thousand years is an accomplishment your human empires have nearly never managed."
The Admiral frowned now, his face darkening with irritation. "How much longer are you going to continue to humiliate yourself? You call *us* barbarians. You degenerates had everything given to you by your forebears and threw it away with incompetence and petty politics."
The alien's crest flew open and it wheeled, its four arms flexing. The Admiral coolly reached for the pistol on his hip, and with visible effort Fzehhan lowered his arms and crest. Another humiliation.
""It is easy to conquer and destroy and even to build," Fzehhan said through gritted teeth. "But hard to maintain."
So saying he strode forward with long strides, forcing the human to jog to keep up. They were close, and Fzehhan could not handle the disrespect much longer.
At last they stood before a great black door, covered in runes strangely familiar to the Admiral. His face wrinkled in confusion. Fzehhan muttered a prayer and an apology, then touched his hand to a panel, and with a great heaving shudder the door lowered into the ground, revealing a chamber beyond full of art and treasure and wonderous technology of the last age.
But as the Admiral slowly fell to his knees in shock and horror, he saw nothing but the great statue directly in front of him, which covered the actual crypt of the First Emperor and depicted, no doubt, his visage.
In stone stood a proud human man, his lip curled in sneering authority. Around his head a wreath of laurel, and at his side a sword. And in what Sheng now recognized as Greek, the simple epitaph.
Ἀλέξανδρος | Richards glanced up from the bluish white glow of the monitor on his wrist. There was a sea of bioluminescence in front of him from the small moons alien algae that had rapidly developed on this tiny irregular satellite aptly named Harpalyke after some Greek god infidelity humanity hardly remembered. The raft he was on rocked back and forth across the glowing waves. The water here didn’t smell like salt like it did on Earth, it had more of a musky, off putting odor of rot. Jean Richards, recently promoted to Captain in our worlds space based exploration/planet protection fleet, did not care for the smell at all.
“This is Captain Richards reporting immediate impressions after landing.” AI systems in place have or course already transmitted all pertinent data back to the base, Richards was just following procedure. As he gazed out over the green, putrid smelling glow of the ocean on this formally cold and dry world, he couldn’t help but feeling a little ominous of what he would find here. This was a essentially a suicide mission, even though no one at the World Space Agency would admit it to him. They called it a “high risk mission”. Richards snorted laughter at that phrase again as he looked back down at his watch to see how long the AI had left to scan the rock and find out what had caused it to go from a cold, dry moon of Jupiter to a seething ball of water and glowing life?
All the eggheads back at the Pentagon were in a tizzy over the huge battle that humanity had witnessed 5 and a half years ago. It had taken that long just to get here and in that time we had learned almost nothing of the advanced species that had held a brief war in our solar system, and essentially destroyed each other leaving the survivors to scramble. The big talking heads all were screaming for the technology floating around out here but when the WSA told them about the life appearing on Harpalyke in the form of a glowing ocean, they issued an immediate order of my promotion and then handing me this mission. Nice guys, right?
A sudden beeping from my implants in my ear commanded my attention “Captain Richards.” The voice spoke directly through my earpiece that only humans should have in a cold, emotionless voice with utterly no inflection or tone. It must be an AI system of some kind, left over from the battle. Why would it make contact with me? Did it mean any harm? All these questions ran through my mind as I comm’d back with a general broadcast. “ This is Cpt. Richards of the WSO Fleet 10. Who am I speaking with?” Silence from the other end of the line. Again, then. “This is Cpt. Richards of the WS-“ He was cut short by a blinding white light and high pitched whine that seem to cut his skull in two blasting out nowhere, blocking out any visual of the survey raft or ocean he had just been on. Richards screamed as the light seemed to rattle around in his head, becoming higher pitched and more intense with every second. He began to shake violently and rose up into the air several feet before it all went dark and he was dropped back into the raft. Collapsing in a heap laying on the rough orange rubber, Richards sobbed in the neon green light from the ocean.
More later! | |
[WP] You've spent so much time with the human who summoned you that you've actually begun to enjoy his company. That's what got you into this whole mess. | Just as you're about to enter the church, Andrea pulls you both to a stop. Frowning, she casts her eyes over you before returning her gaze to the church doors. "You're not ... you're not going to burst into fire or anything, are you?" she asks, examining the cross above the doors closely as if she might find a demon sensor somewhere.
You snort. "Do you really think a building built by a human has the power to cause a supernatural being to burst into flames?"
Andrea thinks for a moment and your heart is filled with that odd feeling of warmth at the face she pulls. In the ten years since she summoned you, Andrea has changed a lot. Back then, she was a supposedly satanist scene kid who dealt with shitty parents and being desperately lonely by pretending not to care at all. Now, she's a social worker—you'd tried to convince her to do something that contributed good to the world, like a bank robber, but no dice—who claims to be in love with a dull accountant named Greg and content with her life. It's all dreadfully boring and you often wonder if the Andrea who first summoned you even exists anymore, but sometimes, she will pull a face or say something and it's like she never left.
"Not just a building," she says in a hushed tone, as if the cross above the two of you might hear and fall on top of you in anger at the mere suggestion of something else. "It's a holy building."
You raise an eyebrow at her. "It's a building. The only difference between this one and all of the houses on this street is you won't be expected to give—sorry, asked to donate money for merely entering the houses."
Andrea looks at you in a way that makes it clear she's not amused. It's so much like the old Andrea it almost makes you forget about the veil falling down on either side of her face and the white dress that takes up entirely too much of your vision when you try to look at her. Your heart begins having that odd warmth to it and you're not entirely comfortable with it. Sometimes, you almost long for the days before Andrea summoned you. Humans only want to feel because they've never known the freedom of not feeling.
Andrea rolls her eyes. "What do you know?"
"A lot more than any human. God sent the person who designed the modern day church to hell because, in his words, 'those wretched things look like they belong there.'"
It's been ten years and even now, Andrea can sometimes look at you in wonder when you talk about things beyond Earth. It's one of those things that reminds you how human she is when you find yourself almost forgetting. You hate it. "If ugly buildings are all humans have to fear in hell," she says, "I think you guys need to be doing your job a little better."
You look at her and give her a small smile. "Hell isn't so bad."
Occasionally, Andrea will look at you in this way that makes you feel completely exposed. Not in the bemusing, human sense, where the idea of someone seeing them without clothes is a thing that haunts their nightmares. No, an exposed that even you, as a being much more than a human, feel. It feels like she's inside your head and can look wherever she wishes, you powerless to stop her. You often wonder how much she can see. "It's hell," she says softly.
In that moment, it feels like the veil and the dress are all you can see, growing and growing until there's nowhere you can look to avoid them, like you've been doing since the two of you arrived at the church. For the last couple of years, it has felt like she's been going through a phase with you merely waiting for her to grow out of it. When she first introduced you to Greg when she began dating him, you weren't too concerned. In fact, you were certain Greg, as dull as he was and is, would perform a vital function in making Andrea realize she isn't meant for the boring, mundane life humans promote as the ideal. When she accepted his proposal, you bit your tongue, sure that eventually, eventually, she would see things clearly because she had to. Now, at the church doors, her about to enter and commit herself to this man and this life forever, you find yourself unable to keep quiet for the sake of being—ugh—polite.
"Is that why you're doing this?" you ask, the words coming out with much more anger than you realized you held about this.
Andrea refuses to look at you. "Doing what?"
You let out a hollow laugh, shaking your head. There's a deep, deep part of you—a left behind echo of all the humans you have ever possessed—that recognizes this is about more than today. All of these years, the two of you have tried to avoid the fact the only way your odd form of a relationship won't end is Andrea ending up in hell. You aren't scared of losing a form of Andrea. You're scared of losing Andrea altogether. "You know what. Becoming this mundane human who lives a mundane life, scared of ever stepping the slightest bit out of line for fear of going to somewhere other than the oh-so amazing heaven."
At your words, it's like a fire ignites in Andrea and that spark—the one you had found so endearing, the one you had missed so much—makes you feel warm in a way so many years in hell has never done. It's a welcomed friend you haven't seen in years. "And what is so wrong with that? With being human? Having a normal human existence?"
"Everything. Normal humans are insignificant, boring, pointless. I don't understand why you would try so hard to possibly get to heaven when it's filled with people who had to be so dreadfully boring to get there."
"I'm sorry to disappoint you," she says, a tremble to her voice, "but I am human."
"You're different, though," you say, smiling. If there's one thing you know, it's how different from the average human Andrea is. "Do you think I agree to attend ridiculous Earth ceremonies for all humans? I saw something in that girl who summoned me that I'd never seen in all my years. I saw something in you I'd never seen before. You're special, you're meant for something so much more than this."
Andrea is silent for a moment, refusing to look at you again. When she does look at you, the raging fire has calmed, a defeated flame in its place. She doesn't return your smile. "Tiran," she says, the sound of your name from her mouth causing an odd shiver through you. Her voice is strong, all quivering gone. "The girl you met all those years ago was in a lot of pain, so much pain it hurts for me to think about it. That was what made her special to you."
You shake your head. "That's not tr—"
"It is. You don't like me now because I'm happy. That's what's boring to you. You want anger and sadness and loneliness, you thrive on it, and in that girl I used to be, you found it in abundance. I don't want to be that girl, though. How I felt back then was hell for me. I will not apologize for not wanting to go back to that."
For a moment, you almost understand how a human feels when they forget something. You have known Andrea for ten years, became more familiar with her than you have any other being in your existence, human or otherwise. You know her favourite restaurant, her fears, her pet peeves. You know things you've never cared to learn about any other human because it felt irrelevant, but with Andrea, you've never been able to learn enough. No matter how hard you've tried, you haven't been able to fight this fondness you've felt for a human and it's fascinated you like nothing else ever has. Now, though, you don't recognize her at all. She isn't something unknown in an eternity where you know everything. She isn't interesting and exciting. She's a dull, boring human. That odd, warm feeling she and only she has ever managed to produce seems like it was never there at all.
"If I had met this Andrea the day you summoned me," you tell her coldly, "I would have never bothered with you again."
Andrea places her hand on the church doors. She smiles at you, but it's a pitying smile. "The one thing you've taught me, Tiran, is that being a human in hell is not the worst thing someone can experience. It's having to live an eternity as a being created by hell." | Andrew shifted his weight nervously, glancing at the hopeful, eager face of the demon sitting across the table. He played with the peas on his plate, hoping to avoid eye contact.
"Listen, Matheus..." He began, unsure of how to proceed. What was he supposed to do? It's not like something like this had ever been addressed by John Hughes in some quirky coming of age movie. "I think you're a really great demon and all that, we've had some great times..."
"Oh man! Have we ever!" Matheus cut him off, his deep voice joyful and optimistic. Who knew a demon could be optimistic? "Like the time we switched the heads of the statues with pigs down at city hall! Oh! Or that time we went to see The Shinning and I made real blood pour out of the screen! We make such a good team."
Andrew swallowed hard. Somewhere in the restaurant a pianist tinkered out a soft melody. He should have known this restaurant was a bad choice. This was going to get ugly.
"Ha, we sure do." He laughed an empty laugh. "But Matheus, I mean, we've had a lot of fun, and I really enjoy your company, I just don't really think of you in that way."
Matheus looked crestfallen. The flames in his eyes dimmed a bit, clawed fingers gripped his fork so hard it bent. Andrew held his breath. *Please don't make a scene*, he thought desperately.
"Oh." Matheus exhaled deeply, expelling bits of sulfur as he did so. "I thought, when you chose me in your summons... but then... why did you summon *me*?"
"I -- I know you hadn't been summoned in a while," Andrew stammered, "But I swear I didn't know that at the time. I thought it would be funny to summon a demon."
Matheus looked up sharply. "Funny?" He breathed "Is that what I am to you, some kind of joke?"
*Oh fuck.* Andrew thought, *now you've done it.*
"No! No! Not at all" He said quickly, people at other tables were starting to stare. "It was just supposed to be temporary! A little harmless fun!"
Too late he realized what he had said. The flames in the demon's eyes flared to life. Matheus stood up, his head brushing the crystal chandelier. It tinkered softly as the restaurant went dead silent.
"Temporary!" Matheus boomed, "What do you take me for? You think you can just summon me for an evening and then throw me away like I'm nothing? You're a monster, and an asshole! I have feelings, Andrew! I bet you thought that demons were just some heartless wish machine but you're wrong! You used me up and now you want to throw me away! You're heartless!"
As he spoke, two of the adjacent tables burst into flames, the lights began to flicker and glasses fell from tables. Panicked patrons began to rush from the restaurant. Andrew stared up at the demon, this was not going well.
"I'm sorry!" He exclaimed, "I didn't mean to hurt you!"
"You just wish I was some sexy lady demon, don't you! Then you'd love me, if I were better, and perfect." Matheus began to cry. Well as best as a demon could cry.
"No!" Andrew replied, "It's not you Matheus, I promise, it's me!"
Matheus stopped sobbing and looked down at the hapless human in the now empty restaurant.
"Oh it's you all right." He narrowed his eyes so just a sliver of flames was visible. "And I'll make sure you never forget me. I'll run on repeat forever. What's that director you're always idolizing? Oh, right, I remember."
And in a flash the demon disappeared. Andrew looked around incredulously. Was that it?
Then he heard it, it started out quietly at first, but where was it coming from. His eyes grew wide as he realized it was coming from within his own head, a song he knew, of course he knew it, everyone knew this one.
*Don't you, forget about me..."*
Wait, did Matheus say repeat forever? | |
[WP] You've spent so much time with the human who summoned you that you've actually begun to enjoy his company. That's what got you into this whole mess. | I can still remember the moment my surroundings changed, when I was pulled from my ethereal dwelling, to someone more corporeal, more whole. I remember that surprised gasp, remember the shock and fear giving way to curiosity...for not one being, but for two. I was still a fledgling servant of the darkness, but the human...the boy was truly a young thing. Young, but so full of life, of light...so different from what I had known. I expected demands, commands...the sharp sensation of pain to reiterate my existence, my place in servitude. Instead I found compassion...and only companionship was demanded.
No...not "demanded." Requested.
I was grateful the world of light allowed just as many shadows. I could hide in the peripheral when necessary, as insisted by the human. To those he was the offspring of, he was simply relaying tales of the fantastic things his "imaginary friend" could do, but my abilities were no mere fantasy...the boy seemed endlessly entertained by the most paltry of transformations and acts of camouflage. When not asking these of me, I was regaled with the stories of his life, the problems a child possessed and the fantasies and dreams that colored his mind and would shape his future. I was fascinated, perhaps not so much by the thoughts themselves, but the uncertainty of his future, his hopeful spirit...the freedom to imagine and believe that he could be something far beyond what he was now. To not be bound in servitude and the fate of one's kind...
Years within the world of the light passed, with I watching close nearby for the child's development, observing him age and change before my eyes. The closed-off style of life began to alter, as he became companions with more like himself, so varied in their looks and mannerisms. I would still be regaled with his stories when he returned from the education centers, yet the subjects had changed from troubles and worries; where before he troubled himself with thoughts of eternal solitude, there was then no end to stories these other fledgling humans. It was strange...as I had merely observed and remained secretive per the human's orders, listening to the stories, I felt as if I had been present for events I had not been near, felt as if I had begun to know these other humans, though only this fledgling storyteller before me knew of my presence in the world of light.
At times he would tell me it was acceptable if I did not wish to follow his every move when he went to the place of education and kinship. I of course obeyed, yet found myself...pining for the time so many moments later when he would return to his home. He seemed to share this sentiment, and the stories would resume, so that I could bask in the strange warmth I felt while listening to them.
Much time had passed in the world of light, and the human had grown a lot...and I had changed in ways I had not thought possible. However, the time spent in this indulgent dream of an existence had blinded me to the plight that was about to take place. While I was bound to the human that had summoned me and served loyally as was expected of me...the rights of ownership upon me had not been severed from the previous holder, merely taken.
It had taken them this long to find and muster the strength to appear where I had been removed to, but in the dark of the night within the world of light, their stifling presence could be felt. Trembling for reasons they knew not, my human shook beneath their night covers, unaware why the heat was leaving them.
Not once had those of my kind thought it possible to strike against their masters, their creators...but in reverence to the one who taught me the warmth the world of light could contain, I would be the first.
I would not allow them to take the light away from my human...my friend. | Andrew shifted his weight nervously, glancing at the hopeful, eager face of the demon sitting across the table. He played with the peas on his plate, hoping to avoid eye contact.
"Listen, Matheus..." He began, unsure of how to proceed. What was he supposed to do? It's not like something like this had ever been addressed by John Hughes in some quirky coming of age movie. "I think you're a really great demon and all that, we've had some great times..."
"Oh man! Have we ever!" Matheus cut him off, his deep voice joyful and optimistic. Who knew a demon could be optimistic? "Like the time we switched the heads of the statues with pigs down at city hall! Oh! Or that time we went to see The Shinning and I made real blood pour out of the screen! We make such a good team."
Andrew swallowed hard. Somewhere in the restaurant a pianist tinkered out a soft melody. He should have known this restaurant was a bad choice. This was going to get ugly.
"Ha, we sure do." He laughed an empty laugh. "But Matheus, I mean, we've had a lot of fun, and I really enjoy your company, I just don't really think of you in that way."
Matheus looked crestfallen. The flames in his eyes dimmed a bit, clawed fingers gripped his fork so hard it bent. Andrew held his breath. *Please don't make a scene*, he thought desperately.
"Oh." Matheus exhaled deeply, expelling bits of sulfur as he did so. "I thought, when you chose me in your summons... but then... why did you summon *me*?"
"I -- I know you hadn't been summoned in a while," Andrew stammered, "But I swear I didn't know that at the time. I thought it would be funny to summon a demon."
Matheus looked up sharply. "Funny?" He breathed "Is that what I am to you, some kind of joke?"
*Oh fuck.* Andrew thought, *now you've done it.*
"No! No! Not at all" He said quickly, people at other tables were starting to stare. "It was just supposed to be temporary! A little harmless fun!"
Too late he realized what he had said. The flames in the demon's eyes flared to life. Matheus stood up, his head brushing the crystal chandelier. It tinkered softly as the restaurant went dead silent.
"Temporary!" Matheus boomed, "What do you take me for? You think you can just summon me for an evening and then throw me away like I'm nothing? You're a monster, and an asshole! I have feelings, Andrew! I bet you thought that demons were just some heartless wish machine but you're wrong! You used me up and now you want to throw me away! You're heartless!"
As he spoke, two of the adjacent tables burst into flames, the lights began to flicker and glasses fell from tables. Panicked patrons began to rush from the restaurant. Andrew stared up at the demon, this was not going well.
"I'm sorry!" He exclaimed, "I didn't mean to hurt you!"
"You just wish I was some sexy lady demon, don't you! Then you'd love me, if I were better, and perfect." Matheus began to cry. Well as best as a demon could cry.
"No!" Andrew replied, "It's not you Matheus, I promise, it's me!"
Matheus stopped sobbing and looked down at the hapless human in the now empty restaurant.
"Oh it's you all right." He narrowed his eyes so just a sliver of flames was visible. "And I'll make sure you never forget me. I'll run on repeat forever. What's that director you're always idolizing? Oh, right, I remember."
And in a flash the demon disappeared. Andrew looked around incredulously. Was that it?
Then he heard it, it started out quietly at first, but where was it coming from. His eyes grew wide as he realized it was coming from within his own head, a song he knew, of course he knew it, everyone knew this one.
*Don't you, forget about me..."*
Wait, did Matheus say repeat forever? | |
[WP] You live in a universe where everybody has one wish, guarunteed to be granted. Thing is, nobody knows it, because in early childhood, everyone wishes for trifling, pointless stuff, like more macaroni and cheese. You, however, are 26 years old, and have never wished for a thing... | A single 26 year old female, my relatives constantly asked me when I was going to get married. One day, after a family reunion where my grandparents, aunts, everyone asked me if I had a boyfriend or a husband or someone, I looked at the stars in my hotel room. Stupid family members. They force me to come to a reunion across the country but they don’t even let me stay at their house. Instead, I have to pay for my own plane ticket there and back, the food, and my room.
Knowing I still have a wish because I wasn’t as stupid as them and wished for more cookies, I wondered what to wish for. A better family? No that wouldn’t work. A million more wishes? That’s such a little kid answer, but I’ll try.
I close my eyes and say, “I wish that I could have a million more wishes.” As soon as the last word comes out of my mouth, there’s a flash and a bunch of smoke. I start coughing.
“Whoops sorry.” Booms the genie. “You wished for a million more wishes, so to make sure you don’t waste it all at the same time, he’s a hundred slips of paper. You write your wish on the paper and then get a match and burn it.”
He disappears and I try it. I write, I wish I could get a boyfriend when I come back home.
I forget about it until a week later, I’m at work, and my cute coworker asks me out on a date. | Have you ever felt so stupid that you wish you could punch yourself? Yeah , I did too when I discovered the ‘gift’ as I like to call it; and realized that I already used mine in the most simple , stupid stuff ever. I could’ve been a millionaire , I could’ve saved the planet , I could’ve cured cancer….But you know what I wished for?
Out of the blue , a coworker of mine came to me and asked “Hey Andy , do you know if the boss will fulfill his promise?”
Our boss promised us that he would bring coffee for everyone who spent a whole weekend working. The boss probably said it as a joke , but we like coffee. Like , a lot. A simple ‘I don’t know‘ could have been a great answer.
Guess what I said:
“Damn. I wish” | |
[WP] You live in a universe where everybody has one wish, guarunteed to be granted. Thing is, nobody knows it, because in early childhood, everyone wishes for trifling, pointless stuff, like more macaroni and cheese. You, however, are 26 years old, and have never wished for a thing... | A single 26 year old female, my relatives constantly asked me when I was going to get married. One day, after a family reunion where my grandparents, aunts, everyone asked me if I had a boyfriend or a husband or someone, I looked at the stars in my hotel room. Stupid family members. They force me to come to a reunion across the country but they don’t even let me stay at their house. Instead, I have to pay for my own plane ticket there and back, the food, and my room.
Knowing I still have a wish because I wasn’t as stupid as them and wished for more cookies, I wondered what to wish for. A better family? No that wouldn’t work. A million more wishes? That’s such a little kid answer, but I’ll try.
I close my eyes and say, “I wish that I could have a million more wishes.” As soon as the last word comes out of my mouth, there’s a flash and a bunch of smoke. I start coughing.
“Whoops sorry.” Booms the genie. “You wished for a million more wishes, so to make sure you don’t waste it all at the same time, he’s a hundred slips of paper. You write your wish on the paper and then get a match and burn it.”
He disappears and I try it. I write, I wish I could get a boyfriend when I come back home.
I forget about it until a week later, I’m at work, and my cute coworker asks me out on a date. | It takes a very special person not to wish for anything. Not only for oneself, but to not wish that others be benefited in some way? What kind of selfless monster could that be?
An observer, of course. The kind of quiet, curious person who simply sits to one side, watching as people strut and struggle through their lives. A watcher who not only asks for nothing, but sees no reason to wish that others felt a tickle from the feather of good fortune.
And if all we strange creatures got one wish in our lives which was certain to come true, what would such an oddity as this wish for? This was the unique question young Francis was now faced with. For Francis was in a curious position seeing as the world now knew about the Law of Aspirations, and as such, no new wishes were being issued. Francis was the only human left on Earth with a wish remaining.
The *truly* unique thing about Francis was that he had reached the ripe old age of 20 and had not flittered his wish away on a swimming pool full of macaroni cheese, or an extra late bedtime so as to watch the end of his new favourite movie (and that kid fell asleep anyway). What would he do with the wish at his disposal?
Disposal? If ever there were a more inappropriate word. But that was what had happened to all the other wishes, so why not the one Francis had to make? Because Francis was the first to be aware that his wish would come true.
The world stopped, the watcher had become the watched, and Francis was not the slightest bit bothered by it… | |
[WP] The monster under your bed died. A new one moves in and comes to you to discuss rent and house rules. | After the third, feather-like caress of sharp claws along your skin, you sat up, put your feet on the floor, and snapped out a sharp order.
"Alright, fuck-face, get up here. We need to have a talk."
A low, sibilant whisper echoed around your room.
"We can do more than just talk, oh human."
You rolled your eyes.
"Oh, boy, you're young, aren't you? Look, Tom didn't pull that shit and neither is your teeny-bopper ass, so get out here."
After an odd, long silence, the monster slithered out from under your bed, making sure to brush past your ankle with it's slimy length. It appeared to be a cross between a salamander and a slug, in that it was long, slimy, four legged, and lacking in any facial features, baring a pair of luminous black bulbs that served as eyes. or at least it looked like eyes. It could have been a nose or something.
"Tom is dead. It's my turn to run things how I want," the monster hissed at you. You rubbed your fingers across your forehead, praying your oncoming migraine would just hurry up and go so you can sleep before tomorrow.
"Look, I'll shoot straight with you. Tom was my friend, okay? He was an old, geriatric fuck, as far as you monsters go, and he didn't have it in him to keep scaring me every night. We made a deal. Now I like my damned beauty sleep, and I think you like being able to stay in the house, so let's you and me make a deal, okay?" You asked, cocking an eyebrow.
The monster opened and closed it's eyebulbs.
"Very well."
"I will admit, Tom was good at what he did. Took me a good while to figure out what he was and what he was all about, and that only happened after I tried exorcising him. I know you gotta pay rent by attaching yourself to me, emotionally. I know most monsters prefer to scare the living shit out of their hosts, but you're talkin' to a guy whose been living here for five years, okay? I know all about this shit, and I know that the easiest way for either of us to go about this is for you to have an invitation and to set up some ground rules, k?"
The monster blinked its eyes again and tilted its head. It took in your silk hair cap, your loose, baggy undershirt, lack of a bra, and old boxer briefs.
"What rule would that be?"
You held up a hand and began counting them off on his fingers.
"Stay out of my damn room. This is my bed. This is my beauty sleep you're taking away."
"You can have what's in the fridge, but don't take it all, and don't take anything marked as private. In return, I expect you to pull a fair share of the house work and do any repairs you can. If I got friends over, you don't scare them. You don't even inform them of your presence. You do that, and I give you permission to stay, yeah?"
the monster nodded. Its eyes got wider and wider the longer you watched it.
"Kid?" you asked. "You okay?" After a beat, the new monster shook its head, almost heasitant. Without thinking, you held up your arms. The monster fell into them, wrapping around you until you could not see the glowing red numbers on the clock anymore.
"I just. He was my mentor, ya know, and here I am, first assignment since he's passing, breaking all the rules." You rub across the slime on the monster's back.
"Kid, I'll tell it to ya like Tom told me, yeah? It ain't about rules. Rules are easy to follow, you don't have to think too much. It's thinking outside the box like you and me are doing now that really counts for much." You ignored the slick slide of tears down your chest to soak your shirt.
"I just miss him," the monster murmured.
"Me too, kid. He was a sweet guy, grumpy though he was. We got a deal?" You asked, and you don't think you've ever said something so softly before. The kid draws back, and your hands met in the space between you.
"We have a deal," the monster said.
"What you're name?" you asked. You notice, distantly, that the hand is strong and sure.
"Jacqueline. Jack, really," the monster answered.
"Maisie. Welcome home." | “Hey, buddy.”
The voice emanated softly from the space under my bed. My eyes flew open, and every hair on my body stood erect.
“Hey, buddy!”
I sat up in my bed and clutched my Red Ranger action figure to my chest.
“Um,” I said, small voice cracking with awkward terror. “Yeah?”
“Hey! Yeah. Um, so this is a little awkward, ha-ha, um.” He trailed off. “Okay, so, my name is Gzk’Na-cxtil, and I’m replacing Steve.”
I blinked at the darkness of my bedroom. Steve?
“What in the fuck is going on?” I had at some point in the ramblings of this disembodied voice become thoroughly confused.
“Jeez, someone’s got an adult vocabulary.” I felt him pause. “Okay, so, like, you know how you always hear that one bedspring go ‘bing!’ every night right as you’re drifting off?”
“Wh— what?”
“Yeah, man. That was Steve.”
A clearer mental picture materialized in my mind’s eye.
“You’re the monster under my bed?”
“Now I am.”
“Are you the one in the closet, too?”
“Nah, that’s Stacey. She actually telecommutes from Cleveland.”
My sudden silence seemed only to increase the bizarre and inherent awkwardness of the situation. I heard the rustling of paper and a series of noncommital grunts.
“Oh man, uh oh. Oh jeez, I screwed up.” Gzk’Na-cxtil audibly exhaled for a full ten seconds. “It says on my training sheet do *not* address the child. Shit, bro.”
“Um,” I said.
“Oh man, please dude, don’t fuckin’ tell my supervisor, dude. If I lose this job, my wife’s gonna leave me.”
I felt my eyebrows involuntary shoot towards my scalp. Words failed me for a few horrific minutes of social tension, the terror of boogeymen having fled with the admission that a woman from Cleveland named Stacey had tormented me from my closet every night since kindergarten.
“Dude?” Poor Gzk’Na-cxtil’s fearfulness pierced the darkness and deflated my childlike, grandiose soul-searching.
“Okay, Gzk’Na-cxtil,” I said at last, and with only the slightest trace of sarcasm. “I promise I won’t tell anyone.”
“Great! Sorry about that. You’re a real bro.” It was the last I heard of Gzk’Na-cxtil, beyond the nightly twanging of my bedspring. | |
[WP] The monster under your bed died. A new one moves in and comes to you to discuss rent and house rules. | After the third, feather-like caress of sharp claws along your skin, you sat up, put your feet on the floor, and snapped out a sharp order.
"Alright, fuck-face, get up here. We need to have a talk."
A low, sibilant whisper echoed around your room.
"We can do more than just talk, oh human."
You rolled your eyes.
"Oh, boy, you're young, aren't you? Look, Tom didn't pull that shit and neither is your teeny-bopper ass, so get out here."
After an odd, long silence, the monster slithered out from under your bed, making sure to brush past your ankle with it's slimy length. It appeared to be a cross between a salamander and a slug, in that it was long, slimy, four legged, and lacking in any facial features, baring a pair of luminous black bulbs that served as eyes. or at least it looked like eyes. It could have been a nose or something.
"Tom is dead. It's my turn to run things how I want," the monster hissed at you. You rubbed your fingers across your forehead, praying your oncoming migraine would just hurry up and go so you can sleep before tomorrow.
"Look, I'll shoot straight with you. Tom was my friend, okay? He was an old, geriatric fuck, as far as you monsters go, and he didn't have it in him to keep scaring me every night. We made a deal. Now I like my damned beauty sleep, and I think you like being able to stay in the house, so let's you and me make a deal, okay?" You asked, cocking an eyebrow.
The monster opened and closed it's eyebulbs.
"Very well."
"I will admit, Tom was good at what he did. Took me a good while to figure out what he was and what he was all about, and that only happened after I tried exorcising him. I know you gotta pay rent by attaching yourself to me, emotionally. I know most monsters prefer to scare the living shit out of their hosts, but you're talkin' to a guy whose been living here for five years, okay? I know all about this shit, and I know that the easiest way for either of us to go about this is for you to have an invitation and to set up some ground rules, k?"
The monster blinked its eyes again and tilted its head. It took in your silk hair cap, your loose, baggy undershirt, lack of a bra, and old boxer briefs.
"What rule would that be?"
You held up a hand and began counting them off on his fingers.
"Stay out of my damn room. This is my bed. This is my beauty sleep you're taking away."
"You can have what's in the fridge, but don't take it all, and don't take anything marked as private. In return, I expect you to pull a fair share of the house work and do any repairs you can. If I got friends over, you don't scare them. You don't even inform them of your presence. You do that, and I give you permission to stay, yeah?"
the monster nodded. Its eyes got wider and wider the longer you watched it.
"Kid?" you asked. "You okay?" After a beat, the new monster shook its head, almost heasitant. Without thinking, you held up your arms. The monster fell into them, wrapping around you until you could not see the glowing red numbers on the clock anymore.
"I just. He was my mentor, ya know, and here I am, first assignment since he's passing, breaking all the rules." You rub across the slime on the monster's back.
"Kid, I'll tell it to ya like Tom told me, yeah? It ain't about rules. Rules are easy to follow, you don't have to think too much. It's thinking outside the box like you and me are doing now that really counts for much." You ignored the slick slide of tears down your chest to soak your shirt.
"I just miss him," the monster murmured.
"Me too, kid. He was a sweet guy, grumpy though he was. We got a deal?" You asked, and you don't think you've ever said something so softly before. The kid draws back, and your hands met in the space between you.
"We have a deal," the monster said.
"What you're name?" you asked. You notice, distantly, that the hand is strong and sure.
"Jacqueline. Jack, really," the monster answered.
"Maisie. Welcome home." | He slinks into the chair. And when I say “slink”, I mean slink. He isn’t jointed like you or I. He is more like a worm, with pulsing segments.
“So,” he says, with a raspy voice that is otherwise very business-like. “Let’s get down to tacks. How much are we looking at?”
I tilt my head. Despite the terror I feel, looking into that toothed circular maw, I honestly don’t know what this creature is referring to. “Uh, looking at?”
There is a rattling sound which emerges from the maw. A bit too late, I realize that it is the sound for exasperation, but in the moment, I almost get up out of my seat to flee in terror. “Oh, come on,” the creature says, “Don’t make this any harder than it has to be. You know you’ve got me over a barrel. How much did the former tenant pay?”
“Uh, pay?” I shake my head slowly. “I- I, uh, never got paid anything.”
The slinky “arms” flail and slap other parts of the wormy trunk. “Ha, that’s a good one!” the creature croaks. “Prime real estate like this? Tell me if I’m wrong, what does a place like this run? 1000? 2000?”
“No, I mean it,” I say, “I never received a penny.” My face starts to contort in annoyance. “Why, was I supposed to?”
A slinky arm reaches towards me, and I recoil away from it. “Huh?” the creature utters. “Oh, sorry, my man. I was only trying to comfort you. See, per the rules of our kind, we are supposed to pay a basic monthly rent. You know, in exchange for the occasional night terrors that we inevitably produce. Basic compensation and all that. Or, to put it another way, kind of medieval and FMA-ish- you watch FMA? Equivalent exchange.”
My mind runs calculations in seconds. The earliest I can remember being tormented by the shadow under my bed, I must have been two years old. I’m twenty six now. 24 years, at $2000 a month? Why, that would have paid for the therapy I’ve had, and have left me with a pretty penny besides!
The monster, perhaps sensing my ire, speaks again. “Sorry dude,” he says, as though he is suddenly my comrade. “Not all of us is honorable, eh? Some of us mess it up for everyone else. Fortunately, I’m by the book. Not the good book,” it chuckles, apparently at some little joke, “but by THE book.” | |
[WP] The monster under your bed died. A new one moves in and comes to you to discuss rent and house rules. | After the third, feather-like caress of sharp claws along your skin, you sat up, put your feet on the floor, and snapped out a sharp order.
"Alright, fuck-face, get up here. We need to have a talk."
A low, sibilant whisper echoed around your room.
"We can do more than just talk, oh human."
You rolled your eyes.
"Oh, boy, you're young, aren't you? Look, Tom didn't pull that shit and neither is your teeny-bopper ass, so get out here."
After an odd, long silence, the monster slithered out from under your bed, making sure to brush past your ankle with it's slimy length. It appeared to be a cross between a salamander and a slug, in that it was long, slimy, four legged, and lacking in any facial features, baring a pair of luminous black bulbs that served as eyes. or at least it looked like eyes. It could have been a nose or something.
"Tom is dead. It's my turn to run things how I want," the monster hissed at you. You rubbed your fingers across your forehead, praying your oncoming migraine would just hurry up and go so you can sleep before tomorrow.
"Look, I'll shoot straight with you. Tom was my friend, okay? He was an old, geriatric fuck, as far as you monsters go, and he didn't have it in him to keep scaring me every night. We made a deal. Now I like my damned beauty sleep, and I think you like being able to stay in the house, so let's you and me make a deal, okay?" You asked, cocking an eyebrow.
The monster opened and closed it's eyebulbs.
"Very well."
"I will admit, Tom was good at what he did. Took me a good while to figure out what he was and what he was all about, and that only happened after I tried exorcising him. I know you gotta pay rent by attaching yourself to me, emotionally. I know most monsters prefer to scare the living shit out of their hosts, but you're talkin' to a guy whose been living here for five years, okay? I know all about this shit, and I know that the easiest way for either of us to go about this is for you to have an invitation and to set up some ground rules, k?"
The monster blinked its eyes again and tilted its head. It took in your silk hair cap, your loose, baggy undershirt, lack of a bra, and old boxer briefs.
"What rule would that be?"
You held up a hand and began counting them off on his fingers.
"Stay out of my damn room. This is my bed. This is my beauty sleep you're taking away."
"You can have what's in the fridge, but don't take it all, and don't take anything marked as private. In return, I expect you to pull a fair share of the house work and do any repairs you can. If I got friends over, you don't scare them. You don't even inform them of your presence. You do that, and I give you permission to stay, yeah?"
the monster nodded. Its eyes got wider and wider the longer you watched it.
"Kid?" you asked. "You okay?" After a beat, the new monster shook its head, almost heasitant. Without thinking, you held up your arms. The monster fell into them, wrapping around you until you could not see the glowing red numbers on the clock anymore.
"I just. He was my mentor, ya know, and here I am, first assignment since he's passing, breaking all the rules." You rub across the slime on the monster's back.
"Kid, I'll tell it to ya like Tom told me, yeah? It ain't about rules. Rules are easy to follow, you don't have to think too much. It's thinking outside the box like you and me are doing now that really counts for much." You ignored the slick slide of tears down your chest to soak your shirt.
"I just miss him," the monster murmured.
"Me too, kid. He was a sweet guy, grumpy though he was. We got a deal?" You asked, and you don't think you've ever said something so softly before. The kid draws back, and your hands met in the space between you.
"We have a deal," the monster said.
"What you're name?" you asked. You notice, distantly, that the hand is strong and sure.
"Jacqueline. Jack, really," the monster answered.
"Maisie. Welcome home." | Not a story sorry but this reminds me of that clip from family guy where Brian is talking to Stewie and how he’s not afraid of the monster in his closet. “Oh he’ll be moving out soon since he violated the part of his lease that doesn’t allow sub-letters!” | |
[WP] You live in your apartment, sad and alone, save for the spiders you can't bring yourself to kill. You flick flies and other small bugs into their webs, cynically calling them your "friends". But your kindness has not gone unnoticed by the spiders, and your life is about to get MUCH better. | \-Andrew-
​
As i walk into my apartment i flick the light on, just like every other day i glimpse just a fraction of my unwanted house guests scuttling under furniture, behind picture frames just out of sight like the last child to hide when playing hide and seek. With a sigh i close the door behind me and throw my coat partially on the rack, it clatters to the floor drawing my attention. At the base of the coat rack shuffling back and forth stood an above average size house spider, my curiosity for why it hadnt run away was cured when i realised my coat had unfortunately removed one of his legs on impact..
​
I picked my now injured housemate up mainly out of guilt and took him to the window sill
​
"Sorry little buddy i didn't mean to hurt you, no hard feelings, this is for the best" And with that parting goodbye i tilt my hands and release the little guy out the window to the ground 5 floors below.
​
AS i close the window and turn around im completely caught off guard by the Orb spider hanging mere inches from my face, taken aback startled i stumble backwards tripping on my coat and coat rack crashing to the floor.
\*CRACK\*
​
The sound was sickening, but that pales in comparison to the feeling of my leg bending that unnatural way and seeing it pointing at a 90 degree angle before me. My head began to feel woozy, almost like i was on a boat or at the fair on the waltzers. Closing my eyes to steady myself i slowly slipped out of consciousness..
​
\-Walter-
​
We heard him coming up the stairs, it was no mistake it was him, every day after work each step he takes towards the apartment sounds heavier as if his stresses have manifested into physical luggage for him to carry home. As the key enters the lock we run for cover, we love our landlord but he's never overly keen to see us after work so we do our best to stay out his way until he is either in the shower or comfy in bed. Then again there has been times his play fighting has got out of hand when he's been relaxed too, like the time he shot my brother with the shower head when all he wanted to do was remind him that was the last dry towel and he needed to do laundry. Or the time my other brother waited in the coffee cupboard to see if he had remembered to buy more fruit and he dropped the coffee maker on him, im sure he didnt mean to but he can be so so careless sometimes.
​
Like now, he needs to be up for work in an hour and he's been asleep on the floor by the coat rack for almost 12 hours. It's ok though we can help. Me and my brothers scurry beneath him and carry him to the kitchen like a black velvet wave gently through the apartment. Oh....but wait..
​
At the head of this maneuver i glance back and notice his leg pointing directly up at the joint....even though he is on his back, kind of making him look like a broken ship with a bare mast idely drifting by. We've been watching our landlord since the day we moved in and i know for a fact he isn't meant to bend like that we need to help him...but how? and that's when i got my idea, that's when i remembered how our kind landlord helped us.
​
Redirecting the torrent of my bretheren we heave him up onto the counter top and unlatch the window, easing him half out the window i cant help but be happy at how lucky our landlord is to have us here to help him how he helped us, after all what was it he said as he helped my brother?
​
"Sorry little buddy i didn't mean to hurt you, no hard feelings, this is for the best" | I let out a sigh after another unfulfilling day at work. Realizing for what must be the billionth time how boring and useless my life is, I decided to just call it a day, rather than continuing the seemingly infinite cycle of self-pity and remorse.
After the drudgery that was the repetitive process of flossing and brushing my teeth, I didn't even bother changing out of my clothes I wore earlier that day, it was too much trouble. I instead decided to walk into the kitchen, if it can even be called such, what with the crippling lack of any useful furnishings and implements, to get a drink before collapsing onto my disappointment of a bed. Upon finishing the short traversal, I had already began to forget what I even came there to do, then it hit me. I was thirsty. Grabbing one of two remaining clean glasses, I made a mental note that it was just about time to do the dishes. God, I hated not having a dish washer.
I trudged back to my room, with it's shabby bed, and depressing lack of any other furnishing, save for some visible water damage to the ceiling and some horrifyingly ugly wallpaper, peeling from its intended spot on the wall. I flopped down limply on the bed, dreading having to go back to work tomorrow, when a thought suddenly crossed my mind: "Where were the spiders?"
The two spiders, which I had taken to calling "Eight" and "Seven", based on their respective numbers of remaining limbs (I know, real creative), seemed to be missing. They were never exactly accounted for, I suppose. They were really just always there, at least since I had moved in a month or so prior, but it had seemed clear that this was, in fact, their home. They had just sort of survived on whatever palatable forms of sustenance were wandering about, which I had a few times supplemented with smaller, weaker spiders, in a bout of particular twistedness. I had actually, despite how pathetic it all was, resorted to calling these arthropods my "friends", in some vein attempt to soothe the wound that was having no fellow humans who wished to socialize with me.
The thought of their whereabouts though, was but a passing one, as before too long, I found myself unconscious, awaiting yet another lackluster number of REM-sleep cycles, before that damned alarm went off again.
That moment never came, however, as I had found myself in an unfamiliar, albeit strangely reminiscent location, though I couldn't quite put my finger on what. After a brief period of letting my eyes adjust to the darkness, it had dawned on me. I was, in fact still in my maddeningly impoverished apartment, but everything was quite a bit larger.
I instinctively started turning to the alarm clock to get a sense of how much time was left, or possibly how late I was for work, but something else was also quite off. I didn't seem to be able to turn my neck.
Beginning to panic, I immediately tried to get up, but despite my best efforts, no significant difference in elevation was reached. I tried to call out to help in an act of desperation, knowing full well that nobody cared, nor was even there to care about my fate, save perhaps for my landlord, who would be quite unhappy if I were to fail to deliver a payment for the overpriced, rundown trash heap I was living in.
To my surprise however, a gruff, unfamiliar voice called out to me in return.
"Finally awake, are ya?"
A shadowy figure, obviously inhuman in nature, was approaching me. It quickly became apparent that this was a spider, but how is it so big? How is everything so big?
Before I managed to project so much as one more syllable from my mouth, another, more effeminate-sounding voice came from behind me:
"You remember us, correct?"
"You're the former human who resided here. . ."
Very much baffled at the strange words coming out of this being, who now revealed itself to be another enormous spider, having come into my peripheral vision, all I could think to say was:
"Former. . .?"
Giving what could only be described as a grin of some sort, the first spider, who I now noticed is missing a leg, with a chuckle, let out a brief, albeit shocking remark:
"Right you are, lad! Just try to reach out in front of you!"
Obeying the simple command, to my surprise, horror, and general disgust, there were the legs of a spider in my view, rather than the expected hands of a man. Feeling quite disturbed at this point, I did nothing, though it had clicked in my mind that these spiders must be the same ones I'm familiar with.
"Are you really just going to stand there? After all we've done for you?", the other spider asked.
"What do you mean?", I managed to respond.
"While I can't deny that you were the one who provided us with the blood of our compatriots, the ritual we performed to change you was very difficult to pull off.", Eight answered.
"Why did you do this to me?!" I asked, more brazenly this time.
"Because you fed us other spiders, and gave us the blood required to perform the ritual."
"But that doesn't even make any sense!", I exclaimed, becoming angry.
"Don't worry about that part," said Eight.
"You and the other spider, the one with only seven legs--you were both once residents of this, uh 'residence', before I converted you."
At this point, I was tired, angry, and confused, and simply wanted no part of this abominable spider fiasco any longer.
"Can you turn me back into a human?", I inquired.
"'fraid not, laddie", Seven chimed in.
"'twas how I lost this 'ere arm 'o mine,"
"and how I got this bloody accent!", Seven said, \*almost\* jokingly.
And that's how I was unwillingly turned into a spider by another spider with the help of an entirely separate spider for the sole purpose of. . . I actually never found that part out. You see, the original spider got stepped on by the next unfortunate resident of what was once my apartment. Really makes you wonder though. . .
How did my landlord even know to get another person to move in here, when it'd only been a day since I was turned into an insect?
​
​ | |
[WP] You are a Mage in an adventuring party but life is made difficult by an author that can't spell. Your party consists of you, a Brad, a Worrier and a Saucerer. | Chaos magic is dangerous stuff. Sure it allows a somewhat unimpressive human specimen, such as myself, to wrangle the cosmic powers of reality but it also has its draw backs. Right now I am wondering if I tweaked the fabric of reality too much by conjuring up a mountain sized fireball to lay waste to the brigade of goblins which was mounting an assault on the small village of Kulhiem. Since that fateful day I can’t stop hearing a mysterious mumbling voice in my ears narrating daily activities of my adventuring party and those nearby.
Adding to that my powers are on the fritz. My attempts to extinguish the spreading forest fire which resulted from the fireball resulted in all of the horses abruptly coming to a halt. I was trying to conjure up a calming rain but I swear that mumbling voice said I conjoined up a clamming rein. I spent all of last night trying to focus my powers over chaos to restore the fabric of reality but that blasted voice said that I was restoring the far brick of realty and I managed to rebuild a nice brick home that had been abandoned due to the encroaching goblin hordes.
There have been other developments as well, especially to the members of group. Our beloved sorceress Syrah Rosendahl has taken to drinking heavily and calling herself a Saucerer. Her natural magical talents have since been spent conjuring refills for her wineskin. Braddock Humeuring our traveling minstrel and my magical apprentice now has an obsession with getting his band back together. He insist on being referred to as Brad and tore holes in all of his clothes. Finally our hired muscle Herkul Bekymre, who was always a bit overbearing on all of our travel details and safety, has become over demanding and persnickety with his planning . He spends all morning triple checking that we have properly repacked everything from the night before. Herkul then developed a sour stomach from his anxious attitude and now constantly chews on licorice root. Since we no longer see him as the rough and tumble warrior that we hired we now call him the Worrier.
So here I am traveling to the base of Mount Tuho to find the source of the goblins. A task that would have been fully within the capabilities of a master mage, a gifted sorceress, a sly bard and a hulking warrior now seems out of the depth for an error prone mage, a sloppy saucerer, a moody Brad and a licorice addicted worrier. | "Brooooo, hurry up with that spell already!" Brad sat to the side of the room, being his annoying self (what else could he be? Honestly??). He strummed his lute, making a new song that was only good at killing monsters because it hurt their ears, which is not the purpose of his lute.
"Fuck you, Brad. I'm trying!" I snapped back at the dudebro.
"Uhhh, sorry to bother you Max, we have some big dudes coming our way." Adam said to me as he jogged into the room.
Sammy, who was standing over the stove, cursed. "I'm not ready yet! Can you buy me a few more minutes please?"
"I mean, I guess I can. But can I actually do that?" Adam asked himself as he turned to the door.
"Thanks, buddy!" Sammy yelled to Adam.
"Ughhh. I guess I'll go help him." Brad grumbled as he stood.
"How's it going, Sammy?"
"I'm almost ready. What about you?"
"Just finishing up. Making the final touches."
Two minutes later, I rush into the doorway and Sammy rushed into another room, shouting to Adam and Brad that we were ready.
I cast a light spell, illuminating the windows with the words "B.A.M.S. BAR NOW OPEN FOR BUSINESS!COME ON IN AND ENJOY OUR FOOD!"
--
alright this sucks, I know. Did my best though. Dont hate me for it. | |
[WP] A super hero and super villain have been rivals for years, one saving the city and the other causing much devastation, but never managing to defeat each other. One day, a new villain arrives and captures the hero... Their nemesis devises a rescue plan. | Alright, citizens. I know I usually use this broadcast and security hijack system of mine to strike terror in your hearts, or let you know that my lunch was really good, (seriously, Maria's Deli is a culinary paradise) but today, I'm asking for your help. We haven't always been on the best of terms, so understand why so many of you tried to turn of your televisions, radios, phones, and blenders, but I need you to hear me out, and because I'm not giving you a choice, you will. My nemesis, Admiral Art Deco (seriously, can we all agree that name is just the worst) has been taken by another villain. Also, I'm a little surprised to find that, yes, we apparently can all agree his name sucks. Though his captor, the Agoraphobe, is definitely giving him a run for his money. What? Oh, yes, the point. So I discovered this after a chat with his girlfriend, who I may or may not have kidnapped to lure the Admiral into a trap. Jury's still out on that one. No, not literally. They'll have to arrest me before they can put me on trial. Right, so, I have learned that the Agoraphobe, while quite powerful, and actual not bad looking, I mean, seriously, who goes in to villainy with a jaw that square? It's just not fair. Right, uh, so. The Agoraphobe lives up to his name, and hates crowds. Due to a henchman strike, I'm short on crowds, so I—Oh my gosh, he has abs! Abs! Why is he not heroing it up? Seriously, this guy is really making me mad. Just, you know what, I'm sending his address out to you guys, just everybody swarm him. Serves him right for putting his weakness in his name. | “.....and then they’ll all be sorry!” Thunder clapped as I finished my monologue and signature evil cackle. Just like I rehearsed. Soon everyone in the state of California will be turned into ducks! I hate ducks! Captain Rogue should be arriving anytime now, but I got him all figured out. He always talks so loud and always goes on this tangent about trying to convert me to the Good Side and whatnot. Blah blah blah....if I wanted to be good I would’ve been a lawyer like my father. Actually scratch that, I would’ve been worse than I am now.
“Peeb! What time is that twat Rogue coming? He’s usually here by now. That punctual weirdo...”
“Sir, did you not hear the news? The Doomster has kidnapped Captain Rogue! It’s absolutely wonderful! Chaos has erupted and you didn’t even have to lift a finger!”
Steam boiled out of my ears
“WHAT?????!!!!!!! Turn on the TV! What kind of a name is ‘The Doomster’? What is he? 12?”
“Well sir, actually....” Peebs was getting nervous. Stupid brat can’t do anything without hyperventilating.
“Give me that!” I swiped the remote from his trembling fingers and turned on the television. There was a live broadcast coming from some basement. Captain Rogue is sitting unconscious, tied to a chair that was glowing purple. I immediately knew what that chair was made of. Obsidian, of course, Captain Rogue’s weakness. I’m practically the city’s sole buyer of obsidian. Whoever this new villain is certainly did his homework.
Suddenly a little girl, no older than 7, emerged from the left side of the camera. She was wearing a pink hoodie, jeans, and a pair of My Little Pony light up Sketchers.
“Hi guys! My name is Kailee Winston! This is my big brother, Logan Winston. He plays dress up a lot but he’s been a big meanie to me. He didn’t come to my dance recital so now he’s gonna have to pay. I’m recording this as a warning because not keeping your pinkie promises is MEAN!”
I couldn’t believe my eyes. It took me 12 years to figure out Captain Rogues identity...and THIS is how I find out? He’s just some high schooler?
Captain Rogue was coming to.
“Where...where am I? Kailee? What’s going on?”
“Hey big brother! Just wanted to remind you that I’m not a force to be reckoned with!”
“What are you talking about? Get me out of here! Where did you even get that from?”
“I dunno. It sounded cool from some cartoon. Anyways I’m hungry. Bye guys!” Kailee waved to the camera as Captain Rogue yelled and thrashed about. The TV went black. My fist started to shake.
“Sir? Does that mean I can take the day off?”
“SHUT UP PEEBS! THIS IS NOT HOW I WAS SUPPOSED TO WIN. NOT BY THE HANDS OF SOME KID! FIRE UP MY CAR AND LOAD MY WEAPONS!
....it’s playtime.” | |
[WP] You come upon the only survivor of a battlefield and rest for a moment while they tell you their story. | I nearly fell from my horse upon reaching the war camp. It had been a long day's ride with no food or water. My horse was close to collapsing, its breath heavy and strained. Countless tents stretched across the flat landscape. Men traveled at their own pace, spreading out in every direction. The camp was lit by thousands of torches and campfires, the sun now hiding behind the grassy hillside.
A young stable-boy met me before I galloped too far into camp. He had golden-blonde hair and small deformity of the face. The lad walked with a hunch, as well.
"Take your horse me-lord?" the stable-boy stumbled his way to my side.
I vaulted from my mount, landing heavily. My armor nearly crumpled. It had been left weak after such a grueling battle, only the day before.
"Good boy," I answered the young lad.
"Out scouting, sir?" he asked.
I looked down at my ensemble. My armor was matted with dirt and blood. The King's sigil could barely be made out.
"Does it look like it?" I answered with another question.
"I guess not me-lord," he shrugged. "We's just figured that everyone had returned froms the battle'in, is all," he said.
"What do you mean?" I questioned the boy.
He didn't answer. He just pointed. I followed where his finger aimed. A large campfire had drawn quite the crowd in the center of the war-camp. I handed the reigns of my steed to the boy, tossed him a coin from my pouch and began trudging through the camp. It was far too dark for the usual activities like sparring or marching, so the men just reclined, drank, and sang in large groups. I caught some glares from the men as they noticed my imperfect uniform. Apparently, they thought the soldiers fighting at Havatt had already returned. They were wrong.
I finally came upon the massive pyre. A crowd of at least one-hundred men surrounded it. From the center of the grouping, I could hear a strong voice.
"Quiet down, you bastards! The lone survivor of Havatt is going to speak now. The battle was fierce and he barely clawed his way to victory. Give him your respect!"
*What the hell,* I thought.
I was at that battle. I saw what happened.
I began squeezing my way through the crowd. Men cursed at me, but I didn't care. I had to see what was happening. Who was this man at the crowd's center?
I made it to the center of the ring of men just as they began to sit. Suddenly, I felt how tired I was. My legs screamed at me, begging me to sit along with the men. It had been a full day since Havatt and I couldn't fight my fatigue any longer. I gave in and sat with the rest of the men. They all wore light clothe and looked extremely comfortable. I longed to remove my dirtied armor.
One man sat in the center of the crowd, a giant pyre at his back. He had a patch over one eye. He had a shaved face and scalp and wore the same light clothing as the other men. He was far too clean to have been at that battle. It had been a nasty ordeal. I could feel my fingernails digging into my palms, the rage becoming hard to handle. The man began to speak.
"Most of you know me. My name is General Tsering," he announced.
General Tsering? I knew that name. He had been given command of a large group of skilled fighters before the battle began. That same group had been demolished mere minutes into the fighting. Interesting thing was, their new commander wasn't seen fighting alongside his men.
"Havatt was the death ground of nearly 12,000 of the King's finest," Tsering continued. "Luckily, I was able to fight my out, killing over forty men by myself," he grinned.
*Liar,* I could feel my blood boiling.
The men in the crowd oo’d an awe’d, hanging on Tsering’s every word. I looked like at my armor. Stained there was the blood of my friends, my brothers. A small amount of my own was there as well. Tsering was disrespecting my fallen comrades. He hadn’t killed any men at Havatt. He hadn’t even been with his men while they were cut to shreds. They died without a hope. Without a commander. I couldn’t stomach the lie any longer.
“Deserter!” I yelled, standing.
The crowd quieted. My eyes met Tsering’s one. He saw my uniform and…there it was. He was frightened.
“General Tsering left his men for dead on that battlefield,” I screamed. “Havatt was a bloodbath with no clear side coming out on top. I fought in the infantry. I watched my friends, my brothers, die. All while you were put in charge of a battalion that you later abandoned. I watched those men die too. And where were you? Riding back here to tell everyone what a hero your cowardice make you?” I couldn’t feel my legs anymore. Everything was sore. All I could feel was my own anger.
Tsering chuckled.
“You will believe the word of this man? What proof does he have?”
I drew my sword. “The only proof I need is my honor. Which is more than I can say for you.”
I held the weapon before me and leveled it at Tsering. The sword gleamed in the dark, lit by the bright flames of the pyre.
“I may not have much energy left. I fought all day yesterday. *I* was the only survivor. You were the only *coward.* I’d be happy to use what’s left of me to dispatch of the slime I see before me.”
Tsering visibly recoiled. He had not expected this. He had made a mistake thinking nobody would survive the battle.
I wiped a tear from my eye. The other men began to rally behind me. They had understood my emotion. Most knew Tsering for the snake he was and would relish being rid of him.
“Deserter! Deserter! Deserter!” they chanted.
My legs suddenly felt strong again. My body was giving a few brief moments of respite.
I charged and quickly removed Tsering of his head as the men cheered me on. | "I'm looking for a girl."
"You're damn late for that."
The man was holding his guts in, with a grim expression on his face. It was an unusual expression around here; even the grimmest, most ashen and furious faces had something in them that reveled in the fight, reveled in the death, and reveled in the return.
I sat down beside him, out of arm's reach. Again, the men here weren't all above flinging themselves at a friendly face, if it seemed amusing. He didn't look like he'd find anything amusing, though.
"There's plenty of girls." I nodded out across the hill that swept down into woodlands. Somewhere inside, there was some people yelling, metal clashing on metal. The fight was moving, then. I gave the dying man a sideways glance. He could have been from any period of time - a Norse warrior, a Roman centurion, someone who'd died in the Middle East over oil. His skin was a middling shade, his hair was shaved, and his eyes were dark. In sum, he could have been literally anyone. That alone said a lot.
"How'd you get here?" I asked. I'd been here about two years, now. The running battles hadn't gotten completely under my skin, and sometimes I tired of the constancy of them. I questioned if there hadn't been a divine clerical error; dying in battle, yes. Enjoying it? No.
"Walked."
I gave him another appraising look. He dodged the question, but he wasn't bitter, angry, or suspicious.
He poked at his intestine. "You didn't see a large man with a beard get away, did you?"
I shrugged. "Maybe. A lot of those around. He owe you one?" I thought another second. "You send each other here?"
He shook his head. "Thought he looked familiar. Might know something. Won't talk until I take him."
"How long have you been trying?"
A second passed as he counted. "Six years."
I whistled. "You come close?"
"Closer every day."
The intestines disagreed with that assessment. "He's gotten you?"
"Not every day. Sometimes others beat me to him." His eyes came up. "You haven't seen a woman, have you?"
"What kind?"
He described her, then. Slightly shorter than he was. Short brown hair. Eyes as blue as a mountain lake. And she was sweet, quiet, ready to smile - though the smile had always seemed sad, somewhere behind it. She spoke with animals as they passed, she had been a seamstress in life, and she called herself Lissie.
"I'm sorry." I was. He'd kept his voice from cracking by retreating to another place as he spoke, reciting as if describing an image standing before him, warmth in spite of desperate reaching for dispassion.
He shrugged. "This seems to be not her kind of place."
My eyebrows raised. "You aren't from here? I mean, you didn't land here?" I adjusted myself, then, turning to face him. "You really did walk here?"
He nodded.
"You can get away?" I crawled forward a few steps. "Listen. I'm a warrior. I have been forever. But this isn't where I'm meant to be. I have friends, family, people who aren't here. And I don't like it here, sometimes. I mean, sometimes I do. But the evenings and the mornings, one after another. . . They're wearing on me." I moved closer. "You know how to get out?"
"I know." His face was a deathly pale, bone-white. He didn't have long for today. "You are not the first. I have spoken with a thousand men who believe the Gods made a mistake. They did not deserve Hell. They were ready to leave Purgatory. Elysium was not paradise without their family." He paused. "Do you know how many walked with me?"
"One?" I guessed.
"None." He fell back a little ways, towards the embracing grass. "The Gods, the Fates, the Higher Powers: they do not make mistakes."
"What, you're special?" I was over him, now, well within reach. I didn't care.
He smiled, his eyes closed. "Who taught me to walk? Who taught me such a thing was possible?" He raised one hand, covered in his own blood up to the wrist. "I did. Who walked through a thousand afterlives? Who searches for her? I do. Who will be whatever I must be?" Eyes open again, focusing on me. "I will." Now he could only look at the sky, watching the clouds drift across. The speech took something out of him. The last of his life for the day, poured out in a burst that, in spite of its utter control, had something huge inside. I'd once put three rounds from my 1911 into a Spartan (bury your warriors with their weapons), and the man had still pulled me apart with his bare hands. That night, he drank three men twice his size under the table. He'd had a fire inside him - still did, given what I saw when I passed him these days. This man had an entire ocean in his soul, pushing out and washing away cliffs and rocks and outlasting even the greatest blazes.
It scared me.
He said one more sentence. "I used to be a potter." Quiet.
"I think there's a few more potters here."
"Where?" His voice was distant. I wasn't sure if he was confused from blood loss, or if he had genuinely never asked.
"This is Valhalla."
"Hm." And he muttered one last sentence before he died. I don't know what it was.
He never spoke to me again. Six months later, he finally got the big man. Maybe he didn't. At any rate, I never saw him again.
I hope he finds his girl. | |
[WP] "My majesty. Here is your wine." The king took the chalice and took a sip. "Hmm. This is some high-quality poison." |
“Hmm. This is some high-quality poison,” the king chuckled and tossed the jeweled chalice to the floor. Deep red liquid poured out over the marble floor of the King’s throne room. The Captain of the guard that presented the drink to him shook his head.
“Please do stop calling it that, your Highness,” the Captain lowered his head to show he meant no disrespect. “Our land’s vintners have already begun to leave the city for other kingdoms. Might I suggest the possibility that you simply do not like wine?” The king’s crown tilted forward as he lowered his gaze to glare at the Captain.
“I am a King. Of course I like wine!” He dismissed the Captain with a hand gesture. “Bring me more tomorrow. I better like it.” The Captain bowed deeply and left the room. He walked into the kitchen where a small group of men and women waited for him.
“Well?” One of the men, the one who produced the latest sample, asked. The Captain shook his head.
” ‘Poison’ again,” he said.
“That was my best wine!” He yelled in frustration.
“I know! Those were my best grapes!” Another man joined in the frustration. A third man, the best dressed of the group, stepped forward.
“I’ve had enough, let the dim King rule his empty castle. My traders and I will move to another kingdom and establish a new route to trade our wine and other goods. Within a year this palace will be dust and cobwebs.”
“What about the people?” The Captain asked.
“That’s who I’m doing this for,” he gestured at the small group around him.
“We all have families, and we’re starving because the King refuses to acknowledge our wine.”
“Please, one more chance. He demanded another tasting tomorrow. Is there nothing left to try?” The Captain begged the crowd. They stood around looking at each other for several silent minutes until one of the women spoke up.
“What about the Brewer?” she said. Several of them erupted in laughter, but the elegant guild leader shook his head.
“This is a serious matter.”
“Who’s the brewer?” the Captain asked.
“No one,” the guild master replied.
“Who is the brewer?” the Captain repeated his question slowly while staring at the woman.
“He lives up on the hill by the barley field. He’s been experimenting making wine from grains.”
“His liquid abominations don’t deserve to be called wine,” the guild leader said. The Captain turned to face the well-dressed man.
“I don’t doubt that you’re ready to move, but it will still be more difficult than staying put. The King doesn’t know what ‘wine’ is. If we give him a drink that he likes and call it wine, then your goods will sell.” He took a moment to think but nodded his head.
“Take him to see the brewer.” The woman nodded and led the Captain out of the kitchen, out of the castle, and to a small house on a nearby hill. She pounded on the door.
“Brewer!” A short, bearded, rotund man opened the door. He immediately recognized the Captain of the guard. His eyes went wide and he shoved the door closed.
“I’VE DONE NOTHING WRONG!” He yelled through the closed door.
“I need your help, brewer.” He opened the door a crack and peeked through.
“With what?”
“The King would like a sample of your best brew,” the woman explained. The Captain shrugged and nodded.
“Really?” The door flew open. “I’ve got just the thing!” He disappeared into his house and Captain moved to step in. The woman put a hand on his shoulder and shook her head.
“You don’t want to go in there.” The Captain turned to complain, but his nose caught the foulest stench he’d ever smelled, and he agreed.
“I think you’re right.” He stepped back again. The pair waited outside for quite sometime before the bearded man returned holding a dark bottle.
“The door was open, you should have come in.”
“I thank you for your hospitality, but we are in a rush.” The Captain took the bottle, bowed, and walked away with the woman next to him.
“Let me know if he likes it!” the brewer yelled. “There’s more where that came from!” The Captain waved over his shoulder while they trekked down the hill.
The next day the Captain met the guild leader and several of his tradesmen in the kitchen.
“It smells so foul,” one of them commented while the Captain poured it into a chalice.
“Are you sure it isn’t just urine?” another commented on the yellow frothy liquid. The Captain shrugged.
“It doesn’t matter so long as the king likes it.”
“Good luck!” the woman said. The Captain took a deep breath and marched the chalice out to the king.
“My majesty. Here is your wine.” The king took the chalice and took a sip.
“My god!” he exclaimed. “THAT is poison. I’ll stick to the other stuff, it’s not so bad.”
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day in 2018, this is #255. You can find them collected on my [blog](https://hugoverse.info/). If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the [Guidebook](https://hugoverse.info/2017/11/25/hugoverse-guidebook/) to see what's what and who's who, or the [Timeline](https://hugoverse.info/2017/10/23/hugoverse-timeline/) to find the stories in order. | ######***Heartbroken in a World of Dirt***
Deep in the castle, below the quarters of the lowest servants and the prison cells of political opponents, King Alidan and a man in black robes knelt in a dark chamber lit only by the candles circling the body on the stone bed in front of them. The King bowed his head. A tear quietly splashed on stone. He sniffed once and said, with a voice roughened by a mucus-filled throat, "Get the wine."
Edris, the robed man, stood. "Yes, your majesty." His footsteps retreated behind the King.
"Don't go anywhere," King Alidan said under his breath as he stroked the blonde hair of the corpse. Although her eyes were shut, he still felt her light brown eyes gazing into his own, unblinking. Her skin was cold but soft to the touch, like a caressing a marble statue. She had a peaceful, almost emotionless expression. She could have been fast asleep, and for a moment, King Alidan didn't want to disturb her slumber. But he knew only one thing could wake her. And time was running thin.
"Your majesty." Edris's voice startled the King. "Here is your wine."
King Alidan, still kneeling, took the chalice from Edris. It smelled only of wine—not the tiniest hint of poison detectable by scent. He swirled the wine in one hand as he gripped the still hand of Queen Imina with the other. He sipped the wine.
He tasted only red wine. The poison, however, made its presence immediately. Before he swallowed the wine his tongue had already gone numb. His mouth, dry as the cold stone beneath him, stung with a feeling of ten thousand pinpricks. He coughed twice before wheezing out something half-comprehensible: "This is high-quality poison."
King Alidan fell to the floor. Everything went black.
---
Soft ground. Freezing wind. King Alidan opened his eyes. He was no longer lying on stone, but dirt. There was light, though not much more than there had been in the chamber. He pushed himself to his feet and wrapped his robe tighter, pulling it up to cover his already rosy cheeks. His hair blew with the wind. But where was the wind coming from?
He stood on a dirt plain that extended endlessly in all directions, fading in with the dark purple sky at the horizon. No trees. No clouds. No people or structures. Nothing but him, dirt, sky, and a chilly wind.
King Alidan turned around. A wooden door. It stood, like him, alone in the barren landscape. He approached the door. Its handle refused to budge in either direction.
*Come, my love.* A warm voice. A calm voice. Peaceful. *Her* voice.
He jiggled the handle harder. "Where are you, dear? Guide me. Show me the way!" An invisible hand wrapped around his and pushed the door open. As soon as he felt the hand, it was gone. He mouthed, "Thank you, my sweet," as he stepped inside.
A cramped spiral staircase, made of dirt instead of brick or stone or wood, appeared on the other side of the door. He ran up the steps. With each step, his feet sank a little. It was tiresome. But she was waiting. He would bring her back.
The stairs kept appearing as King Alidan ran up the spiral. There were no walls, no railing. He could jump from the staircase and fall on the dirt landscape if he wanted to. Still, the dark purple sky above.
*You're almost there.*
He ran faster.
*I want you by my side again.*
His feet were sinking deeper into each dirt stair. The wind seemed to get colder despite the sweat now glistening his pores. He tore off his cape and tossed it away. The wind carried it away like a feather, where it would disappear into the endless, black horizon.
"I'm coming my love!" Pace slowing and heart pumping faster, he stripped off his garments until he wore nothing but linen pants. The sky was brighter now.
*Hurry.*
He continued up the spiral of dirt steps. The sky lightened, the wind blew harder and colder, his feet sank further into the steps.
The ground was further than the sky now. His dead wife kept calling his name.
Finally, when his lungs were stinging like a warm bath after diving in snow, the spiral staircase ended. There was a floor to stand on now. No wind. Everything was a dark shade of purple, except for a single figure standing in front of him.
She had blonde hair and light brown eyes. Her skin was pale and soft, but now warm to the touch. Queen Imina held King Alidan's numb cheeks. "You made it," she said.
Hearing her speak, he had forgetten about all of his bodily pains and aches. His lungs weren't about to give. His heart was attempting to escape his chest with each beat. His feet weren't struggling to pull itself through soft dirt.
"Will you," he said. His eyes filled with tears. "Will you return with me?"
"We will be together."
He sighed, relieved. It was done.
"But I will not return with you. You will stay with me."
---
Edris spit out the dirt that flew into his mouth. It was a cold morning. Although he wore three layers, goosebumps rose on his skin from the piercing wind.
Two pits were being filled with dirt. Final words had been said by nobles and, of course, royalty. Prince Milo, King Alidan's eldest son, now wore the crown and robes. The ceremony was finished.
All the talk at the pub later that night was rumor. The dead King, according to witnesses, had gone mad and ran up one of the castle's staircases bare naked, mumbling—sometimes screaming—incoherently. He had collapsed and died in the throne room. Doctors said King Alidan died of heartbreak; priests said demons were to blame.
Edris felt the heavy leather pouches in his pockets that bulged through his pants' and coat's pockets with the gold Prince, no, *King* Milo had promised him. He disagreed with the doctors' and priests' diagnoses.
---
Thanks for reading! [CC]/feedback always appreciated. I have more stories, poems, and songs on [my personal subreddit.](/r/scottbeckman) | |
[WP] You are an author. One day you hear a knock on the door. It’s one of your main characters. | I continued to write until I heard a knock at the door. I set my laptop to the side and went to answer it. When I opened the door, a man stood there. He had a sword strapped to his side and a large shield on his back. He wore steel armor that covered his entire body. The only thing not covered was his face, which had a large, jagged scar going down the left side. He was blind in his right eye.
“Uuuummm,” I said, “Can I help you, sir?” The strange Warrior suddenly got down on one knee and bowed down to me.
“I am graced by thy presence, oh mighty Creator,” he said in a deep voice. He had an accent that sounded almost Scottish, but there was something off about it.
“I’m sorry, do I know you?” I replied.
“Yah mean yah don’t remember me?” He said to me as he stood up. I shook my head.
“Should I?”
“I am Tillius Waric, son of Grimveer and King of Mulek. You created me an’ my people, but we are in dire need and I have come to request yer help.” I stepped back in bewilderment.
“King Tillius Waric?” I said, “I wrote that story years ago. I never even published it. How could you know about that?”
“I am not one of yer fans,” Tillius responded, “I am one of yer creations. And Mulek calls for yer aid. What say you?”
I couldn’t believe this. It was impossible that one of my characters had come to life. I would have to test him, see if he really is who he says he is.
“Tillius,” I said to him, “where is Mulek?”
“Yer the one that created it,” he replied, “shouldn’t you know?”
“I want to hear you say it.”
“Well, it’s in the middle of the Bermuda Triangle of course. That’s how we stay hidden. We use our advanced technology to hide from satellites, planes and boats that come into our waters.”
I couldn’t believe it. Hardly anyone new this story. But this had to be a joke. There was no way...
“Then tell me, why do you still use swords and shields when you have such advanced technology?”
“It’s more of a tradition really. If we get to advanced, we’ll have people tha want tah try and take over the entire world. An that’s not what we want. We just what to stay peaceful and hidden.”
It was possible that this story had gotten leaked somehow. I’d have to ask a question that wasn’t in the story. Something only the real Tillius Waric would know...
“Final question. What is the flag of Mulek?”
Tillius stopped and looked at me. There was no way he could get this question correct. I was the only one that knew the answer. I never told it the story. There was no way he’d get it correct.
“Do yah really know so little ‘bout the country you created?” He asked, “It’s a plain white flag of course. With a blue rose in the middle.”
I stood there in amazement. It was impossible. This man really was the true King of Mulek. But how?
“Are yah done quizzing me now?” He said, “Can we get tah the matter at hand?”
“Please, come inside,” I said. I would have to ask questions later. Right now I just needed to help.
“Mulek is under siege,” Tillius said as he entered my home, “A character from one of yer other stories has decided to attack us. He’s begun to enslave our people and and won’t stop until he has the throne.”
“Who? Mulek was created to be an unreachable and unbreakable city. Not even the strongest of my characters could breach it.”
“Well one has. His name is Nikolai.” I shivered. I had forgotten about Nikolai. One of the most evil characters I had ever created. His backstory was so tragic, he was literally incapable of smiling. In fact, he had almost no emotion at all.
“There’s only one way to defeat Nikolai,” I said to Tillius, “But it was never written in a story or book. I had it planned out in my head, but I never actually put it in a story.”
“How do we beat ‘im”
“We need to find the other characters. It’s not coincidence that both you and Nikolai were brought here. If you two are here so are the others.”
“What others?”
“Through a series of different stories I wrote, but never published, I created different characters that could all band together to defeat Nikolai. There was you, Tillius Waric, the true King of Mulek, Me, the Creator, Pork Grylls, Distant Relative of Bear Grylls, John Williams, former British Parliament, now Photographer, and finally, Hank Mcmillains, 298 year old war veteran. He’s served in literally every single American war, starting from the beginning of America itself.”
“So in order to reclaim my country and defeat Nikolai, we have to go and find these three other men? But why? They don’t sound so special.”
“That was the point. A band of five generic, nearly ordinary people could form together to defeat a trained, deadly Russian assassin. It was a perfect story. But I never wrote it.”
“ Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go find them!!”
(I’m not going to continue this story, because it would be very long and complicated and have many references and thinks that only I understand. But, if you have any questions, I will gladly answer them. Yes, every single character mentioned is a character that I have actually created and they all have a backstory that I’ve created. So if you want to know, feel free to ask)
(Edit: paragraph spacing) | "F××k you"
Bland and to the point. No theatrics, no build up, just a middle finger with two words.
"You've put me through Hell, and I'm supposed to be based of you, what the f××k is up with that?!"
A grin grew on my face
"I like writing intense things and tragedy, can't I do that?"
He looked like a mixture of all my main characters, whether from writing prompts on Reddit or on that app in my phone, he shares some feature about each one.
"Can you at least tone it down a bit? My right arm has second degree burns for f××ks sake"
I had to think about that one for a moment
"Is that a no?"
I looked up so I could look into his eyes as I said this
"You're supposed to be a 'fantasy' version, someone that's designed to go through the worst things possible and still get out on top, I can maybe start hurting you a little less, but not entirely"
He began nodding his head
"Yeah. I can deal with that. Thanks"
He disappeared in front of me, apparently re-entering the fictional worlds I created. I guess I'll browse writing prompts for a while, see what's on it.
The End. | |
[WP] You are a mad scientist. You like to laugh maniacally alongside your hunchback assistant, while powering up your insane inventions. You also work in a hospital, saving countless people's lives, while leaving them slightly traumatized. | Ah, yes. The field of medicine. My favorite field, next to the one by my house back in Stuttgart, Germany.
See, funny thing about me is that I've actually had my license revoked, so technically I'm not supposed to be doing this. I'm one crazy bastard, but the stuff I slap together with some soda, blood, and duct tape can (and has) saved lives.
Before I was busy being a regular old doctor, I was a combat medic. My methods of saving lives were... unorthodox. That was when I had a prototype of "The Medicine Gun". It didn't shoot pills, but it did have a healing effect. Cuts, scrapes, gashes, broken bones; you name it, "The Medicine Gun" healed all of the booboos of war. I also ran around with a bonesaw and a gun that shot needles full of poison, but the Medicine Gun was the star of the show.
Anyways, me and my Russian assistant spend hours on end in my basement, he walks around, fiddles with stuff, and hands me tools and holds the flashlights. I actually build the things, I source the materials, I test the gizmos before they go out into the world. The Medicine Gun 2.0 was at the top of my priority list, but I had side projects when I hit a roadblock and I needed to focus on something else. I finished tightening up the last of the nuts and bolts and threw the pack on my shoulder. I brought out a pigeon that had a broken wing. I flipped on the power and started giggling as my assistant started taking a few steps back. I pushed the lever forward and... *splat*.
​ | My name is Waldo, and I am mad.
I laugh like a lunatic, in my top secret lab.
By my side, my trusty friend Max.
We built some inventions, and test them on rats.
After we succeed, we insanely laugh.
But we fail mostly, and we cry like brats.
But that is our secret, not the daily work mask.
I am titled as a doctor, and so is Max.
We server in a hospital, where emergencies stack.
We help wounded people, and give head pats.
I'll tell one story, that doesn't seem bad.
I remember a little lady, from a school bus crash.
She was seven maybe, or eight at max.
She was bleeding, and her body was smashed.
Our invitation worked, and we healed all cracks.
With bunch of nano robots, who put things back.
We fixed her bones, and her flesh in a flash.
Her face was healing, but the eyes didn't last.
She lost most of them, and the robots lost track.
We had no choice, and the truth was sad.
Her mother was there, and she wont sit back.
She insisted on helping, so we never hold back.
We made our appointment, it was easy to do that.
We just finished testing, a new mad craft.
The next day we brought it, in a box that's black.
The child was ready, and so was the madam.
On close chairs they sat, they could hold hands.
We covered their faces, with strange looking masks.
They looked like glasses, with weird added scraps.
Sooner no later, we powered our lad.
Their left eyes were sucked, before they were swapped.
In pain the kid screamed, as joyfully we laughed.
We gladly succeeded, and accomplished the task.
We took off their masks, the mother was mad.
She slapped our faces, and called us quacks.
The child was crying, and emotionally squashed.
She told us that blindness, was better than that.
She yelled at her mother, this wasn't their pact.
She thought she was getting, eyes made of glass.
Her mother said sorry, but she never felt that.
She kept one eye to see her, but not if she is sad.
The kid was crying, and her head the mother pat.
Embraced her body, and home they went back.
She left us smiling, and valued our task.
She hated us slightly, never forgave our bad.
One week later, she gave us a fancy pack.
In the pack was lying, a cake saying thanks.
We ate the cake happily, but our bellies made clanks.
The cake was sweet, but the agony was max.
Max was laughing, he loved the prank.
A sweet revenge he called it, I didn't get that.
We didn't die surely, but we got the message at.
​ | |
[WP] You are a mad scientist. You like to laugh maniacally alongside your hunchback assistant, while powering up your insane inventions. You also work in a hospital, saving countless people's lives, while leaving them slightly traumatized. | The small black pager buzzed wildly with a new message for its owner.
Dr. Lazarus reached a long, spindly hand over the table, clenching the pager with deliberately slow movements, savoring the last vibrations until it gave up. If you didn’t know better, it would look like a pale spider devouring a trembling prey.
The doctor looked at the message, the greenish glow of the screen lighting up the crow’s feet and heavy bags under his hooded eyes, revealing a long, crooked Roman nose, and gaunt cheeks. Time had not been kind to the doctor. Then again, he had not been very kind either .
A twisted smile flickered across the old man’s face as he read the message crafted by his assistant,
“Got a live one for you 4 u boss. Well. Barely alive.”
Dr. Lazarus stood up suddenly, the fluid movement a contrast to his bony and aging frame. He walked to the sink and began the same meticulous ritual he had practiced for the last 50 years. Washed his hands in cold water that usually made others wince, but failed to affect him. Secured a surgical mask over his long chin and thin lips. Snapped on latex gloves unflinchingly. He held his hands up as he backed slowly against the door of his office that connects to the operating room.
The doctor’s appearance hadn’t failed scare hundreds of patients over the years. If you could call people who hadn’t consented to his practices “patients.” Girls, boys, grown men and women had all felt a similar shiver run down their spine when they saw the old man come near them at their most vulnerable moments.
His assistant stood waiting for him next to an operating table. Stood was a generous term, as the poor man’s hunchback had him in a perpetual bow. He shuffled over to the doctor, scalpel in hand as a ceremonial gift. He took his place by the doctor’s side as he gave him the details of today’s procedure.
“Dakota Freeman. 8 years old. No prior medical records that we could access. Ruptured appendix. She’s been administer fluids, including glucose for low blood sugar levels. Our best estimate is that it burst 2 days ago.”
“Who brought her in?” replied the doctor cooly.
“An aunt. Couldn’t give her name out of fear, says she’s estranged from the immediate family, but she’s waiting for the girl at the warehouse.”
“Did the aunt say if the immediate family had any suspicions?”
“Not that we know of, doctor. But she’s young, someone is bound to come looking for her soon.”
Dr. Lazarus nodded. Nothing surprised him in his line of work anymore. After 30 years as a practicing surgeon, he grew sick and tired of watching the children of Christian Scientists die from preventable medical causes. The helplessness he felt when a family rejected his help and turned to prayer instead had forced him to go underground. No devout Christian Scientist would bring their child to a doctor, but many former followers were desperate to save their loved ones, even if they knew it would cost them their relationship with their family. The doctor had saved hundreds of lives and ripped apart almost as many families who turned to him instead of their god at the last possible second.
He looked down at the little girl whose heavy eyelids were fluttering to sleep. His heart broke at the thought of people who’d let her die to prove their devotion. Silently, without another thought, he began to work. | "See this, Igor? THIS is the pinnacle of modern science! This mechanized arm can do anything! From being strong enough to crush through solid steel, to being armed with whichever tool the owner wants! A beam saber! A gatling gun! Or even better, the most blasphemous of inventions, the spork! You can use it even without missing an arm, this device simply repositions itself to accomodate the owner! One size fits all!"
"Yes master, very wise. You are the most brilliant of minds!"
"Ermm...hello?"
The frizzled hair madman and the hunchback minion turned, staring at the young boy in the clean, spotless room.
"Oh yes, little Timmy! I just need to make a few adjustments.... and there! Parental controls are in place. Now toodles!"
Timmy watched in amazement as the wickedly awesome arm attached itself to his stump, and stared, missing the manical laughter petering out as Dr. E. Vilan skipped out of the hospital room with Igor by his side. | |
[WP]: You hate this one guy in particular. You also know witchcraft. So you cast a curse to slowly destroy the thing he loves the most. As time passes on, you find that nothing has changed, but you are starting to get sick. |
There are moments in your life you never forget. Moments that stab at your heart so deep, the emotional pain becomes physical. Even after they have healed, they leave behind scars to remind you--to ensure you never forget.
I got my scar 6 years ago.
Don't date in your circle of friends, they say. I should have listened. But when your friends are your fraternity brothers, and all of them are straight that never really becomes an issue. Fate threw a wrench in that plan when it wove John into my circle. He was an ancillary brother, not someone I was close with but friends with my core group. Quiet and unremarkable, I honestly never noticed him. That was until he came to me, late one night, for help coming out. I understand why: we were in the same fraternity, and I was out and well received. He was in the closet and needed advice, and so I gave it. Over the course of several weeks we spoke, we laughed, we bonded. I guided him through the process of coming out, and when he did it went over fine. I was happy, I helped someone get the reaction from friends, and more importantly family, that I had not gotten back in high school. Beneath that happiness was something else though. Something I didn't expect. I fell for him. I fell hard. It was hard not to after spending so much time emotionally bonding with someone. And so, I gathered my courage and asked him out. He said no.
The conversation was your standard cliché decline. There were phrases like "I value you as a friend" and " I don't want to lose you as a friend". It hurt, but I understood. I fought through the pain by convincing myself that it was I who was in the wrong. I was hurt, but you can't blame someone for how they feel right? I needed to let it go and move on.
Apparently, the pain of a "no" wasn't enough for John. He changed after coming out. He was more confident, borderline cocky. Suddenly the friend who talked to me about everything was distant. Calls went unanswered and unreturned. Social interactions dwindled to one-word responses to questions and conversation. The true knife in the gut came one fateful autumn night, when our group returned to a member's apartment for beer pong following a movie. I didn't want to go. Something in me said that I shouldn't. That indescribable feeling you get when you know something bad is coming. My best friend convinced me to go, and I listened.
One game in my world turned upside down. There was a knock on the door and John disappeared, only to return with a guy at his side. I steeled my composure, though I could feel the needles sticking into my heart slowly. John introduced his "friend" to everyone in the room, and I shook his hand, keeping a convincing smile plastered to my face.
*This won't be so bad* I thought. *It hurts, but I am handling this well and so long as I keep an inconspicuous distance--not hard given the number of people now at the apartment--I will give myself room to deal*
John had other plans. For the first time in weeks he suddenly wanted to talk to me...with his new beau. I was like a magnet: no matter how many times I dislodged myself from conversation to move to another group, he followed with the new guy in tow. It started to feel deliberate. He was shoving in my face this guy, trying to get us to talk more and more, forcing interaction. I finally picked up my phone and texted my best friend (the one who convinced me to go) and who was currently in a game of beer pong.
**I would like to go now** I texted
**Can you wait till the end of the game?** he replied, not quite aware that there was a reason beyond my previous reservations for wanting to go home
**Please. I need to go now** I replied.
He looked at me and saw it in my eyes. That is the beauty of best friends, they know when you are being serious and not melodramatic, they know when you are in distress. So, we left.
The moment the car door closed I broke down. He sat in silence and put his hand on my shoulder as he drove. I cried so hard I was heaving by the time we got back to my apartment. My best friend asked if I needed him to come up, but I said no. I had embarrassed myself enough for one night. So, he left, and I walked up several flights of stairs to my apartment, trying my best to make it without breaking down again.
I closed the door, enveloping myself in the darkness of my apartment and sank to the floor. There was nothing left in me. No. There was no more sadness left in me. And when one emotion is depleted, the others become more apparent, like how your senses seem to enhance when you are blindfolded. And of course, one emotion shown like a hot coal in the darkness: anger.
He did it intentionally I realized. I replayed the events of the night over and over, trying to convince myself that what I perceived couldn't be true, that there was no malice in his actions. But my mind came back to the same conclusion: he did this to hurt me. And so, I was going to hurt him back.
See, there is a common misconception about being a witch. A lot of popular culture quotes part of the Wiccan Rede "And it do no harm, do as ye will", taking this to mean that a witch should not cause harm to another. But that is not the full context of the phrase, at least to some of us. We see it instead as a mantra to remind us of consequences. It is not about doing no harm ever, but rather to remind us to consider our actions as there are always consequences, and in the event the action causes no harm, you can proceed with no concern. However, if an action does cause harm, be *aware*of what the consequences may be. Nowhere does it say you cannot act.
Another misconception of popular culture: witchcraft is a bunch of rhyming words and intent, something to be whipped up in a few minutes. In reality it is very much a science and an art. A lot goes into a spell. You need to look up ingredients, similar rituals, words and phrases of power, and celestial events. A proper spell takes weeks of planning to find the right moment to gather everything you need and cast at the same time.
Eventually the time came. It was a new moon, the darkness of the sky perfect for casting spells to harm, and Mars was at its closest point to the Earth- a planet for war and anger. I prepared the items, cast the circle, and began the ritual. I tailored the spell to target John. This was no item found on Pinterest or a Google search. It was customized to rob him of what he loved most in this world, and I was ready to bring my full fury. After an hour of chanting, the spell was cast, and I finished by sealing a specific poppet in a warded box that I locked. See, to undo a spell you don't just wave your hands and "poof" it is unwoven. You need to know what was cast and how it was cast to undo it. While John was not a witch, in the far event he decided to seek supernatural help for the misfortune that would follow him in the coming years I crafted the spell to need the contents of the now sealed box to undo it. I buried the box in a field next to my apartment, a green belt that was well maintained as a bastion of nature in the city. I marked the spot on a map for myself, so that should I need I could recover the box.
Yes, I had planned this well.
\[Continued Below\] | \- So, what's up with the neighbor?
\- Same old stuff. He is still infuriating. I just don't like seeing him and now it's gotten worse.
\- Why? What happened?
\- I already told you about Leah. The second thing happened this morning. I was walking down the street talking with her, but she seemed \*uninterested\*.That was the first time it happened. To top it all off, it started raining. Luckily, I was holding an umbrella and opened. Things went well, she seemed to open up a little and her answers were getting better. We were walking next to a puddle and then a car came really fast, splashing \*\*all\*\* the water in the puddle on me. For some reason she found it hilarious. The car stopped immidiately, and Chad got out. He started laughing too, and said "Oh Liam, I am \*so\* sorry!". Then he continued: "Leah, want a ride?" And Leah stopped laughing and agreed. Then, they left.
\- Oohh, really harsh on her part.
\- Yeah, but I got my revenge.
\- Don't tell me...
\- Well, I kinda cursed the thing he loves the most to be destroyed.
\-Ooohh, did you have any results?
\-Not yet, but I think it won't be long. The problem is that after the cursed I kinda got sick. I must have used a lot of power.
\- What do you mean sick?
\-Well I started to coug\*
\*\*Cough\*\* \*\*Cough\*\*
\*Then I felt something liquid in my hand\*
'Oh no.'
\*There was blood in my hand.\*
\*\*Fuck\*\* | |
[WP]: You hate this one guy in particular. You also know witchcraft. So you cast a curse to slowly destroy the thing he loves the most. As time passes on, you find that nothing has changed, but you are starting to get sick. | When I began to feel the symptoms, I was sure I cast the spell on myself by accident. It doesn't happen often, but it does happen with the more complex spells that require a lot more preparation. Fever, dizziness, headache, terrible runny nose that is somehow stuffed at the same time (i wish there was a spell for that), and lots of sneezing. Its satisfying at first, but the raw throat makes it a million times worse.
Despite my oncoming illness, I got out of bed and went over the list of items needed:
One (1) ear of corn
One (1) cup of kidney beans
Two (2) fucks (I had to replace them with aggravated eye-rolls)
One (1) Swan feath-
"What?" I lifted the list closer to my face and read the line again, then held it away from my face and read it again. "Hold on, that cant be right..." I put my glasses on, I took them off, I summoned my familiar to read it aloud to me, but every time it said the same thing: One (1) Swan feather.
Turns out I used pigeon feather instead. I dont know how I mixed those two up, but I did and there's two things I know for certain: 1.) I need to get the hell out of New York. I dont know why I chose to live in a place infested with the things I'm most allergic to, and 2.) His pet pigeon will probably die in the next few days. Whoops. | \- So, what's up with the neighbor?
\- Same old stuff. He is still infuriating. I just don't like seeing him and now it's gotten worse.
\- Why? What happened?
\- I already told you about Leah. The second thing happened this morning. I was walking down the street talking with her, but she seemed \*uninterested\*.That was the first time it happened. To top it all off, it started raining. Luckily, I was holding an umbrella and opened. Things went well, she seemed to open up a little and her answers were getting better. We were walking next to a puddle and then a car came really fast, splashing \*\*all\*\* the water in the puddle on me. For some reason she found it hilarious. The car stopped immidiately, and Chad got out. He started laughing too, and said "Oh Liam, I am \*so\* sorry!". Then he continued: "Leah, want a ride?" And Leah stopped laughing and agreed. Then, they left.
\- Oohh, really harsh on her part.
\- Yeah, but I got my revenge.
\- Don't tell me...
\- Well, I kinda cursed the thing he loves the most to be destroyed.
\-Ooohh, did you have any results?
\-Not yet, but I think it won't be long. The problem is that after the cursed I kinda got sick. I must have used a lot of power.
\- What do you mean sick?
\-Well I started to coug\*
\*\*Cough\*\* \*\*Cough\*\*
\*Then I felt something liquid in my hand\*
'Oh no.'
\*There was blood in my hand.\*
\*\*Fuck\*\* | |
[WP]: You hate this one guy in particular. You also know witchcraft. So you cast a curse to slowly destroy the thing he loves the most. As time passes on, you find that nothing has changed, but you are starting to get sick. | There I was, lying on a hospital bed. And there were him, looking at me with his insane eyes.
After trying everything, every logical solution, trying this wasn’t going to hurt me, right? This book had been part of my family heritage for centuries. My mother praised it, but she also praised essential oils, so I guess that my skepticism was well founded. I believed in science, and everyone can test witchcraft in desperate situations, but oils? Mom, come on.
I started with the recipe. First, a picture. I cut out his photo out of a newspaper. My best friend thought I was nuts when he saw I kept all the newspapers of the incident. “Why would anyone want that trash?” Guess what, Derrick, it happens that I’ve found a use for them. Second, a drip of blood. It didn’t specify species, so I went for a drip from the pork chops I was going to have for dinner. Lastly… peppermint oil. Guess the obsession made somewhat sense now. I lighted the strongly scented picture on fire, opened the windows to get rid of the smell, cooked my pork chops and went to bed. It all went from bad to worse from there.
\- “… but I love you!” He moaned. “Why would you do this to me!”
\- “Dude, you killed my mom” I couldn’t believe I actually had to explain this.
\- “Well of course I did… I told her that I wanted you, but that stupid woman didn’t understand me. She said I was a pedophile, she was going to take you away from me!”
\- “Dude, I’m twenty, you’re forty!”
\- “I’m actually forty-seven, thanks for the compliment, my love.”
\- “You realize you’re making it worse, right?” I tried to say something else, but my chest became incredibly painful. Now it wasn’t only my liver, but my lungs were betraying me as well. Between all of the pain, I had a brilliant idea. “Do you want me to live?” I asked.
\- “More than anything on this world.”
\- “The spell is getting rid of the thing you love the most in this life. You cannot love things when you’re dead.”
I thought that my comment would make him realize that the thing he loved the most was himself. I wasn’t expecting him to nod soberly and open the window. I wasn’t expecting him to climb that window. I definitely wasn’t expecting him to say “Off I goooooo…” as he fell. After a couple of seconds, breathing became easier.
​
I wrote this as an English practice so any grammar corrections will be greatly appreciated. Thanks for such a cool prompt!
​ | \- So, what's up with the neighbor?
\- Same old stuff. He is still infuriating. I just don't like seeing him and now it's gotten worse.
\- Why? What happened?
\- I already told you about Leah. The second thing happened this morning. I was walking down the street talking with her, but she seemed \*uninterested\*.That was the first time it happened. To top it all off, it started raining. Luckily, I was holding an umbrella and opened. Things went well, she seemed to open up a little and her answers were getting better. We were walking next to a puddle and then a car came really fast, splashing \*\*all\*\* the water in the puddle on me. For some reason she found it hilarious. The car stopped immidiately, and Chad got out. He started laughing too, and said "Oh Liam, I am \*so\* sorry!". Then he continued: "Leah, want a ride?" And Leah stopped laughing and agreed. Then, they left.
\- Oohh, really harsh on her part.
\- Yeah, but I got my revenge.
\- Don't tell me...
\- Well, I kinda cursed the thing he loves the most to be destroyed.
\-Ooohh, did you have any results?
\-Not yet, but I think it won't be long. The problem is that after the cursed I kinda got sick. I must have used a lot of power.
\- What do you mean sick?
\-Well I started to coug\*
\*\*Cough\*\* \*\*Cough\*\*
\*Then I felt something liquid in my hand\*
'Oh no.'
\*There was blood in my hand.\*
\*\*Fuck\*\* | |
[WP]: You hate this one guy in particular. You also know witchcraft. So you cast a curse to slowly destroy the thing he loves the most. As time passes on, you find that nothing has changed, but you are starting to get sick. | She was a killer. A threat. A menace.
How dare he? How dare he wrestle her into submission, forcing her body into traps that kept her still. She cried as she was stolen away from her family, her people, her kind. What would they do without her? She was a necessity. The patience she possessed. An adept hunter and fighter... and in the deep darkness of night, she could create curses calling cruel spirits to her to obey whatever her demands may be.
She knew her captor was aware of her abilities. Because of it, she was granted special freedoms. Instead of being instantly murdered, as she witnessed happen to others, she was kept in his very own home and kept healthy.
She was curious as to why he hurt so many; one day she wandered over and saw him chewing on the flesh he had stripped and cooked himself. As the curious shock became apparent on her face he left his horrific meal and shoved her into a room where she couldn't see him eat.
Although sparing her life, his abuse towards her was still strong. His elaborate meals were not shared and she ate what gruel he dumped out for her. She was his plaything. He would touch her. Trying to stay alive, she would allow it. It was almost as if he was trying to foster... a relationship. Stroking the side of her face, his hand would move down her back - that was enough. She ran off, and he heaved a frustrated sigh.
It was only a few months after her capture that she could finally escape. The door to his home, now her hell, had been left slightly ajar. She crept up and silently, swiftly, pulled the door just open enough to sprint away. Her bounds were interrupted by his yell coming from behind her.
Ahead of her was the road to freedom. To the right was a dead worm, dried in the sunlight. She decided to turn right, deftly swiping up the worm, recalling the chants needed to use the spell she was considering. But her moment of hesitation had harmed her chances of escape, and she cowered under his shadow as his arms wrapped tightly around her body. She would have cried out for help, but the dead worm was safely kept in her mouth where her captor wouldn't see it.
That night she worked as he slept. Carefully crushing the worm while murmuring in a hushed tone, she cursed her captor. He would wake the next morning and witness one of his loved ones suffer. She quietly trodded back into the bed they shared and she slept. Throughout the night, her stomach twinged. It felt as if waves were crashing.
He awoke in a terror. She watched, eyes bleary and pained, then let out a moan. A phone call - could this be him getting the bad news she had cursed him with? She was excited - then she vomited. His disgust turned to worry as he quickly called a different subject, and the last words she heard as her vision went black were, "Is your vet's office open? I think my cat is sick." | \- So, what's up with the neighbor?
\- Same old stuff. He is still infuriating. I just don't like seeing him and now it's gotten worse.
\- Why? What happened?
\- I already told you about Leah. The second thing happened this morning. I was walking down the street talking with her, but she seemed \*uninterested\*.That was the first time it happened. To top it all off, it started raining. Luckily, I was holding an umbrella and opened. Things went well, she seemed to open up a little and her answers were getting better. We were walking next to a puddle and then a car came really fast, splashing \*\*all\*\* the water in the puddle on me. For some reason she found it hilarious. The car stopped immidiately, and Chad got out. He started laughing too, and said "Oh Liam, I am \*so\* sorry!". Then he continued: "Leah, want a ride?" And Leah stopped laughing and agreed. Then, they left.
\- Oohh, really harsh on her part.
\- Yeah, but I got my revenge.
\- Don't tell me...
\- Well, I kinda cursed the thing he loves the most to be destroyed.
\-Ooohh, did you have any results?
\-Not yet, but I think it won't be long. The problem is that after the cursed I kinda got sick. I must have used a lot of power.
\- What do you mean sick?
\-Well I started to coug\*
\*\*Cough\*\* \*\*Cough\*\*
\*Then I felt something liquid in my hand\*
'Oh no.'
\*There was blood in my hand.\*
\*\*Fuck\*\* | |
[WP]: You hate this one guy in particular. You also know witchcraft. So you cast a curse to slowly destroy the thing he loves the most. As time passes on, you find that nothing has changed, but you are starting to get sick. |
There are moments in your life you never forget. Moments that stab at your heart so deep, the emotional pain becomes physical. Even after they have healed, they leave behind scars to remind you--to ensure you never forget.
I got my scar 6 years ago.
Don't date in your circle of friends, they say. I should have listened. But when your friends are your fraternity brothers, and all of them are straight that never really becomes an issue. Fate threw a wrench in that plan when it wove John into my circle. He was an ancillary brother, not someone I was close with but friends with my core group. Quiet and unremarkable, I honestly never noticed him. That was until he came to me, late one night, for help coming out. I understand why: we were in the same fraternity, and I was out and well received. He was in the closet and needed advice, and so I gave it. Over the course of several weeks we spoke, we laughed, we bonded. I guided him through the process of coming out, and when he did it went over fine. I was happy, I helped someone get the reaction from friends, and more importantly family, that I had not gotten back in high school. Beneath that happiness was something else though. Something I didn't expect. I fell for him. I fell hard. It was hard not to after spending so much time emotionally bonding with someone. And so, I gathered my courage and asked him out. He said no.
The conversation was your standard cliché decline. There were phrases like "I value you as a friend" and " I don't want to lose you as a friend". It hurt, but I understood. I fought through the pain by convincing myself that it was I who was in the wrong. I was hurt, but you can't blame someone for how they feel right? I needed to let it go and move on.
Apparently, the pain of a "no" wasn't enough for John. He changed after coming out. He was more confident, borderline cocky. Suddenly the friend who talked to me about everything was distant. Calls went unanswered and unreturned. Social interactions dwindled to one-word responses to questions and conversation. The true knife in the gut came one fateful autumn night, when our group returned to a member's apartment for beer pong following a movie. I didn't want to go. Something in me said that I shouldn't. That indescribable feeling you get when you know something bad is coming. My best friend convinced me to go, and I listened.
One game in my world turned upside down. There was a knock on the door and John disappeared, only to return with a guy at his side. I steeled my composure, though I could feel the needles sticking into my heart slowly. John introduced his "friend" to everyone in the room, and I shook his hand, keeping a convincing smile plastered to my face.
*This won't be so bad* I thought. *It hurts, but I am handling this well and so long as I keep an inconspicuous distance--not hard given the number of people now at the apartment--I will give myself room to deal*
John had other plans. For the first time in weeks he suddenly wanted to talk to me...with his new beau. I was like a magnet: no matter how many times I dislodged myself from conversation to move to another group, he followed with the new guy in tow. It started to feel deliberate. He was shoving in my face this guy, trying to get us to talk more and more, forcing interaction. I finally picked up my phone and texted my best friend (the one who convinced me to go) and who was currently in a game of beer pong.
**I would like to go now** I texted
**Can you wait till the end of the game?** he replied, not quite aware that there was a reason beyond my previous reservations for wanting to go home
**Please. I need to go now** I replied.
He looked at me and saw it in my eyes. That is the beauty of best friends, they know when you are being serious and not melodramatic, they know when you are in distress. So, we left.
The moment the car door closed I broke down. He sat in silence and put his hand on my shoulder as he drove. I cried so hard I was heaving by the time we got back to my apartment. My best friend asked if I needed him to come up, but I said no. I had embarrassed myself enough for one night. So, he left, and I walked up several flights of stairs to my apartment, trying my best to make it without breaking down again.
I closed the door, enveloping myself in the darkness of my apartment and sank to the floor. There was nothing left in me. No. There was no more sadness left in me. And when one emotion is depleted, the others become more apparent, like how your senses seem to enhance when you are blindfolded. And of course, one emotion shown like a hot coal in the darkness: anger.
He did it intentionally I realized. I replayed the events of the night over and over, trying to convince myself that what I perceived couldn't be true, that there was no malice in his actions. But my mind came back to the same conclusion: he did this to hurt me. And so, I was going to hurt him back.
See, there is a common misconception about being a witch. A lot of popular culture quotes part of the Wiccan Rede "And it do no harm, do as ye will", taking this to mean that a witch should not cause harm to another. But that is not the full context of the phrase, at least to some of us. We see it instead as a mantra to remind us of consequences. It is not about doing no harm ever, but rather to remind us to consider our actions as there are always consequences, and in the event the action causes no harm, you can proceed with no concern. However, if an action does cause harm, be *aware*of what the consequences may be. Nowhere does it say you cannot act.
Another misconception of popular culture: witchcraft is a bunch of rhyming words and intent, something to be whipped up in a few minutes. In reality it is very much a science and an art. A lot goes into a spell. You need to look up ingredients, similar rituals, words and phrases of power, and celestial events. A proper spell takes weeks of planning to find the right moment to gather everything you need and cast at the same time.
Eventually the time came. It was a new moon, the darkness of the sky perfect for casting spells to harm, and Mars was at its closest point to the Earth- a planet for war and anger. I prepared the items, cast the circle, and began the ritual. I tailored the spell to target John. This was no item found on Pinterest or a Google search. It was customized to rob him of what he loved most in this world, and I was ready to bring my full fury. After an hour of chanting, the spell was cast, and I finished by sealing a specific poppet in a warded box that I locked. See, to undo a spell you don't just wave your hands and "poof" it is unwoven. You need to know what was cast and how it was cast to undo it. While John was not a witch, in the far event he decided to seek supernatural help for the misfortune that would follow him in the coming years I crafted the spell to need the contents of the now sealed box to undo it. I buried the box in a field next to my apartment, a green belt that was well maintained as a bastion of nature in the city. I marked the spot on a map for myself, so that should I need I could recover the box.
Yes, I had planned this well.
\[Continued Below\] | The oil lantern's light was bright. It shouldn't be. Even if it wasn't a torch, it was still cheap junk. I had never seen a more useless light source in my entire life. But now - now it shone so brightly it gave me a headache. Every time I blinked pure a wave of agony that couldn't be caused by anything physical shot through my skull. I tried to sit up and reached my arm to turn the damnable thing off, but a fiery sensation in my spine forced me back down.
"Khg... I've had enough of this. Akari...!" I called out, letting out a soft moan immediately after. I never knew my voice was this loud, nor that my hearing was this sensitive. Seriously, Akari, you're a sadistic monster! And keep in mind that the one accusing you of this tried to curse you and destroy whatever you loved most!
A woman with long, brown hair immediately slammed the door open violently enough I couldn't comprehend how these shoddy, rotten planks didn't shatter from the impact. Wasting not even a second, she opened several leather pouches, each filled with several herbs. "Yes, I'm here! What is the problem, I'll find th-" she nearly cried. Come on, do you really think I'm *that* dense?
"Stop, please. Just... Stop. Finish it already. I get it, I was wrong, I'm sorry. Just... Please put an end to it. Or at least don't prolong my suffering." I mumbled softly.
Akari's already pale face reached a shade of white so pale and devoid of life I couldn't even call 'white' anymore. With that, the worry that was present only a split second ago was replaced by shock. She's good at acting, I'll give her that... Though I haven't got a single memory of Akari acting well. If anything, I'd say she was honest to a fault. No, to several faults. I remember wondering if she was even capable of saying anything that wasn't the direct and full truth.
"O-Onii-chan? What do you mean? Y-You haven't done anything wrong, onii-chan... Please, just leave it to me, you'll be better in no time!" she sobbed.
"For the love of... Sure, I'm not as powerful as you are, but your brother here isn't an idiot either! I'm not sick and we both damn well know it! So stop burying me in these herbs and drowning me with all these potions, because they will only serve to extend my suffering! But that's no news for you, is it? You noticed I cursed you and you dispelled it and decided to magically torture me to death in return! But I've had enough, you hear? You're either dismissing the curse or slicing my throat open or I'm going to use all my magic in one large explosion so we'll both die!" I yelled. My ears and lungs feel like they got set on fire and started rotting immediately after, but whatever. It'll all be over soon, I'll make sure of it.
However, Akari decides to keep playing dumb... No, never mind that. Tears rolled down her face as she blinked in utter incomprehension. This couldn't be a play any more.
"Onii-chan... Cursed me? B-but why, onii-chan..." she practically breathed out the words. Her voice was indescribably meek. In contrast, I replied with a subdued, frustrated tone.
"Why, you ask? Come now, you're the most powerful and smartest witch I know, how can you not realise this?... I don't like you, Akari. In fact, I hate you. More than I hate everything else in this world combined. Our parents didn't want to care for us so they gave us our own homes in the village. I couldn't let my eight-year-old sister live alone, so I took care of you. I worked so hard to get your food on your plate, not even bothering to care about my own... And what do I get in return? 'My brother can cast spells, look!' 'Oh, you have to add deer blood and rotting grass to the mixture, it says so in the Paranomicon,' and 'Look, onii-chan! I resurrected a rabbit!'... Really, Akari... It might have been the townsfolk that carried the torches, but *you* are the one who burned the house down. You banished me from the village. How many times did I tell you not to use your magic in public? How often did I tell you to keep quiet so that we two could live in peace? Why don't you tell me, huh? Why don't you tell me why you kept causing your brother so much trouble these past seven..."
With every word I said, I felt more and more terrible. It wasn't that my body hurt more from the magic. Mentally, I felt more and more guilt and regret taking shape. I have no idea how long my body would last if someone started beating it now, but I'm sure it'd be whiles longer than my mind would after seeing Akari's crying intensify with every word that leaves my mouth. What the hell, Akari? First you pull all that shit on me, and now you're making *me* feel sorry for *you*?
"I thought... I thought that if they saw what great things magic could do, that they'd accept us... I was so proud to have such an amazing brother, and I noticed how lonely you really were..." she replied with a faltering voice, taking a break to let out a few more sobs. "I wanted the people to respect you, if even half as much as I did... I just... Because... I love my brother... I love my onii-chan... I..." she fell quiet for about two seconds, staring at the floor and hiding her face behind her hair. When she looked me in the eye again, her cheeks were still wet from tears and her eyes were encircled with red. But her mouth and gaze resembled a frustrated, childish pout more than anything.
"What curse did you use?" she asked, her voice now firm and resolute. The one regretful glance I managed to give her was enough of an answer. Guess older brothers still do not have the physical ability to hide anything from their younger sisters after all.
With a flick of her fingers, which was painfully loud once again now my mental pain wasn't subduing my incredibly poor bodily state, a pale green orb, the size of a chicken's egg, appeared in her left hand. Once she pushed that hand against my chest, everything went black.
- - - -
...
The oil lantern's light was dim. It shouldn't be. Even if it was cheap junk, it still wasn't a torch. I had never seen a brighter light source in my entire life. But now - now it shone so dimly it might as well not shine at all. Maybe that would even make the room brighter. Still, it was comforting, somehow. Every time I blinked a wave of pure freshness spread through my body. I sat up and reached my arm out to turn the useless thing off, but decided against it before my fingers touched the lantern and lied back down.
"Hyaa... Well, I'm hungry. Akari...!" I called out, letting out a soft sigh immediately after. I never realised her running gait was this loud, nor that my hearing was this sensitive. Seriously, Akari, you're working too hard to take care of your siblings! And keep in mind that the one saying this tried to take on dozens of jobs to feed you and didn't even care about his own health!
A woman with long, brown hair immediately kicked the door open violently enough I couldn't comprehend how these shoddy, rotten planks didn't shatter from the impact. She also managed to keep the wooden plate and all the pieces of fruit and cooked meat on it balanced perfectly on her left hand.
"Good morning, Onii-chan!" she said with a bright smile.
Edit: Tried to replace Reddit formatting line with the intended three dashes or hyphens or whatever they are called, but failed and gave up and accepted the Reddit formatting line. | |
[WP]: You hate this one guy in particular. You also know witchcraft. So you cast a curse to slowly destroy the thing he loves the most. As time passes on, you find that nothing has changed, but you are starting to get sick. | When I began to feel the symptoms, I was sure I cast the spell on myself by accident. It doesn't happen often, but it does happen with the more complex spells that require a lot more preparation. Fever, dizziness, headache, terrible runny nose that is somehow stuffed at the same time (i wish there was a spell for that), and lots of sneezing. Its satisfying at first, but the raw throat makes it a million times worse.
Despite my oncoming illness, I got out of bed and went over the list of items needed:
One (1) ear of corn
One (1) cup of kidney beans
Two (2) fucks (I had to replace them with aggravated eye-rolls)
One (1) Swan feath-
"What?" I lifted the list closer to my face and read the line again, then held it away from my face and read it again. "Hold on, that cant be right..." I put my glasses on, I took them off, I summoned my familiar to read it aloud to me, but every time it said the same thing: One (1) Swan feather.
Turns out I used pigeon feather instead. I dont know how I mixed those two up, but I did and there's two things I know for certain: 1.) I need to get the hell out of New York. I dont know why I chose to live in a place infested with the things I'm most allergic to, and 2.) His pet pigeon will probably die in the next few days. Whoops. | The oil lantern's light was bright. It shouldn't be. Even if it wasn't a torch, it was still cheap junk. I had never seen a more useless light source in my entire life. But now - now it shone so brightly it gave me a headache. Every time I blinked pure a wave of agony that couldn't be caused by anything physical shot through my skull. I tried to sit up and reached my arm to turn the damnable thing off, but a fiery sensation in my spine forced me back down.
"Khg... I've had enough of this. Akari...!" I called out, letting out a soft moan immediately after. I never knew my voice was this loud, nor that my hearing was this sensitive. Seriously, Akari, you're a sadistic monster! And keep in mind that the one accusing you of this tried to curse you and destroy whatever you loved most!
A woman with long, brown hair immediately slammed the door open violently enough I couldn't comprehend how these shoddy, rotten planks didn't shatter from the impact. Wasting not even a second, she opened several leather pouches, each filled with several herbs. "Yes, I'm here! What is the problem, I'll find th-" she nearly cried. Come on, do you really think I'm *that* dense?
"Stop, please. Just... Stop. Finish it already. I get it, I was wrong, I'm sorry. Just... Please put an end to it. Or at least don't prolong my suffering." I mumbled softly.
Akari's already pale face reached a shade of white so pale and devoid of life I couldn't even call 'white' anymore. With that, the worry that was present only a split second ago was replaced by shock. She's good at acting, I'll give her that... Though I haven't got a single memory of Akari acting well. If anything, I'd say she was honest to a fault. No, to several faults. I remember wondering if she was even capable of saying anything that wasn't the direct and full truth.
"O-Onii-chan? What do you mean? Y-You haven't done anything wrong, onii-chan... Please, just leave it to me, you'll be better in no time!" she sobbed.
"For the love of... Sure, I'm not as powerful as you are, but your brother here isn't an idiot either! I'm not sick and we both damn well know it! So stop burying me in these herbs and drowning me with all these potions, because they will only serve to extend my suffering! But that's no news for you, is it? You noticed I cursed you and you dispelled it and decided to magically torture me to death in return! But I've had enough, you hear? You're either dismissing the curse or slicing my throat open or I'm going to use all my magic in one large explosion so we'll both die!" I yelled. My ears and lungs feel like they got set on fire and started rotting immediately after, but whatever. It'll all be over soon, I'll make sure of it.
However, Akari decides to keep playing dumb... No, never mind that. Tears rolled down her face as she blinked in utter incomprehension. This couldn't be a play any more.
"Onii-chan... Cursed me? B-but why, onii-chan..." she practically breathed out the words. Her voice was indescribably meek. In contrast, I replied with a subdued, frustrated tone.
"Why, you ask? Come now, you're the most powerful and smartest witch I know, how can you not realise this?... I don't like you, Akari. In fact, I hate you. More than I hate everything else in this world combined. Our parents didn't want to care for us so they gave us our own homes in the village. I couldn't let my eight-year-old sister live alone, so I took care of you. I worked so hard to get your food on your plate, not even bothering to care about my own... And what do I get in return? 'My brother can cast spells, look!' 'Oh, you have to add deer blood and rotting grass to the mixture, it says so in the Paranomicon,' and 'Look, onii-chan! I resurrected a rabbit!'... Really, Akari... It might have been the townsfolk that carried the torches, but *you* are the one who burned the house down. You banished me from the village. How many times did I tell you not to use your magic in public? How often did I tell you to keep quiet so that we two could live in peace? Why don't you tell me, huh? Why don't you tell me why you kept causing your brother so much trouble these past seven..."
With every word I said, I felt more and more terrible. It wasn't that my body hurt more from the magic. Mentally, I felt more and more guilt and regret taking shape. I have no idea how long my body would last if someone started beating it now, but I'm sure it'd be whiles longer than my mind would after seeing Akari's crying intensify with every word that leaves my mouth. What the hell, Akari? First you pull all that shit on me, and now you're making *me* feel sorry for *you*?
"I thought... I thought that if they saw what great things magic could do, that they'd accept us... I was so proud to have such an amazing brother, and I noticed how lonely you really were..." she replied with a faltering voice, taking a break to let out a few more sobs. "I wanted the people to respect you, if even half as much as I did... I just... Because... I love my brother... I love my onii-chan... I..." she fell quiet for about two seconds, staring at the floor and hiding her face behind her hair. When she looked me in the eye again, her cheeks were still wet from tears and her eyes were encircled with red. But her mouth and gaze resembled a frustrated, childish pout more than anything.
"What curse did you use?" she asked, her voice now firm and resolute. The one regretful glance I managed to give her was enough of an answer. Guess older brothers still do not have the physical ability to hide anything from their younger sisters after all.
With a flick of her fingers, which was painfully loud once again now my mental pain wasn't subduing my incredibly poor bodily state, a pale green orb, the size of a chicken's egg, appeared in her left hand. Once she pushed that hand against my chest, everything went black.
- - - -
...
The oil lantern's light was dim. It shouldn't be. Even if it was cheap junk, it still wasn't a torch. I had never seen a brighter light source in my entire life. But now - now it shone so dimly it might as well not shine at all. Maybe that would even make the room brighter. Still, it was comforting, somehow. Every time I blinked a wave of pure freshness spread through my body. I sat up and reached my arm out to turn the useless thing off, but decided against it before my fingers touched the lantern and lied back down.
"Hyaa... Well, I'm hungry. Akari...!" I called out, letting out a soft sigh immediately after. I never realised her running gait was this loud, nor that my hearing was this sensitive. Seriously, Akari, you're working too hard to take care of your siblings! And keep in mind that the one saying this tried to take on dozens of jobs to feed you and didn't even care about his own health!
A woman with long, brown hair immediately kicked the door open violently enough I couldn't comprehend how these shoddy, rotten planks didn't shatter from the impact. She also managed to keep the wooden plate and all the pieces of fruit and cooked meat on it balanced perfectly on her left hand.
"Good morning, Onii-chan!" she said with a bright smile.
Edit: Tried to replace Reddit formatting line with the intended three dashes or hyphens or whatever they are called, but failed and gave up and accepted the Reddit formatting line. | |
[WP]: You hate this one guy in particular. You also know witchcraft. So you cast a curse to slowly destroy the thing he loves the most. As time passes on, you find that nothing has changed, but you are starting to get sick. | There I was, lying on a hospital bed. And there were him, looking at me with his insane eyes.
After trying everything, every logical solution, trying this wasn’t going to hurt me, right? This book had been part of my family heritage for centuries. My mother praised it, but she also praised essential oils, so I guess that my skepticism was well founded. I believed in science, and everyone can test witchcraft in desperate situations, but oils? Mom, come on.
I started with the recipe. First, a picture. I cut out his photo out of a newspaper. My best friend thought I was nuts when he saw I kept all the newspapers of the incident. “Why would anyone want that trash?” Guess what, Derrick, it happens that I’ve found a use for them. Second, a drip of blood. It didn’t specify species, so I went for a drip from the pork chops I was going to have for dinner. Lastly… peppermint oil. Guess the obsession made somewhat sense now. I lighted the strongly scented picture on fire, opened the windows to get rid of the smell, cooked my pork chops and went to bed. It all went from bad to worse from there.
\- “… but I love you!” He moaned. “Why would you do this to me!”
\- “Dude, you killed my mom” I couldn’t believe I actually had to explain this.
\- “Well of course I did… I told her that I wanted you, but that stupid woman didn’t understand me. She said I was a pedophile, she was going to take you away from me!”
\- “Dude, I’m twenty, you’re forty!”
\- “I’m actually forty-seven, thanks for the compliment, my love.”
\- “You realize you’re making it worse, right?” I tried to say something else, but my chest became incredibly painful. Now it wasn’t only my liver, but my lungs were betraying me as well. Between all of the pain, I had a brilliant idea. “Do you want me to live?” I asked.
\- “More than anything on this world.”
\- “The spell is getting rid of the thing you love the most in this life. You cannot love things when you’re dead.”
I thought that my comment would make him realize that the thing he loved the most was himself. I wasn’t expecting him to nod soberly and open the window. I wasn’t expecting him to climb that window. I definitely wasn’t expecting him to say “Off I goooooo…” as he fell. After a couple of seconds, breathing became easier.
​
I wrote this as an English practice so any grammar corrections will be greatly appreciated. Thanks for such a cool prompt!
​ | The oil lantern's light was bright. It shouldn't be. Even if it wasn't a torch, it was still cheap junk. I had never seen a more useless light source in my entire life. But now - now it shone so brightly it gave me a headache. Every time I blinked pure a wave of agony that couldn't be caused by anything physical shot through my skull. I tried to sit up and reached my arm to turn the damnable thing off, but a fiery sensation in my spine forced me back down.
"Khg... I've had enough of this. Akari...!" I called out, letting out a soft moan immediately after. I never knew my voice was this loud, nor that my hearing was this sensitive. Seriously, Akari, you're a sadistic monster! And keep in mind that the one accusing you of this tried to curse you and destroy whatever you loved most!
A woman with long, brown hair immediately slammed the door open violently enough I couldn't comprehend how these shoddy, rotten planks didn't shatter from the impact. Wasting not even a second, she opened several leather pouches, each filled with several herbs. "Yes, I'm here! What is the problem, I'll find th-" she nearly cried. Come on, do you really think I'm *that* dense?
"Stop, please. Just... Stop. Finish it already. I get it, I was wrong, I'm sorry. Just... Please put an end to it. Or at least don't prolong my suffering." I mumbled softly.
Akari's already pale face reached a shade of white so pale and devoid of life I couldn't even call 'white' anymore. With that, the worry that was present only a split second ago was replaced by shock. She's good at acting, I'll give her that... Though I haven't got a single memory of Akari acting well. If anything, I'd say she was honest to a fault. No, to several faults. I remember wondering if she was even capable of saying anything that wasn't the direct and full truth.
"O-Onii-chan? What do you mean? Y-You haven't done anything wrong, onii-chan... Please, just leave it to me, you'll be better in no time!" she sobbed.
"For the love of... Sure, I'm not as powerful as you are, but your brother here isn't an idiot either! I'm not sick and we both damn well know it! So stop burying me in these herbs and drowning me with all these potions, because they will only serve to extend my suffering! But that's no news for you, is it? You noticed I cursed you and you dispelled it and decided to magically torture me to death in return! But I've had enough, you hear? You're either dismissing the curse or slicing my throat open or I'm going to use all my magic in one large explosion so we'll both die!" I yelled. My ears and lungs feel like they got set on fire and started rotting immediately after, but whatever. It'll all be over soon, I'll make sure of it.
However, Akari decides to keep playing dumb... No, never mind that. Tears rolled down her face as she blinked in utter incomprehension. This couldn't be a play any more.
"Onii-chan... Cursed me? B-but why, onii-chan..." she practically breathed out the words. Her voice was indescribably meek. In contrast, I replied with a subdued, frustrated tone.
"Why, you ask? Come now, you're the most powerful and smartest witch I know, how can you not realise this?... I don't like you, Akari. In fact, I hate you. More than I hate everything else in this world combined. Our parents didn't want to care for us so they gave us our own homes in the village. I couldn't let my eight-year-old sister live alone, so I took care of you. I worked so hard to get your food on your plate, not even bothering to care about my own... And what do I get in return? 'My brother can cast spells, look!' 'Oh, you have to add deer blood and rotting grass to the mixture, it says so in the Paranomicon,' and 'Look, onii-chan! I resurrected a rabbit!'... Really, Akari... It might have been the townsfolk that carried the torches, but *you* are the one who burned the house down. You banished me from the village. How many times did I tell you not to use your magic in public? How often did I tell you to keep quiet so that we two could live in peace? Why don't you tell me, huh? Why don't you tell me why you kept causing your brother so much trouble these past seven..."
With every word I said, I felt more and more terrible. It wasn't that my body hurt more from the magic. Mentally, I felt more and more guilt and regret taking shape. I have no idea how long my body would last if someone started beating it now, but I'm sure it'd be whiles longer than my mind would after seeing Akari's crying intensify with every word that leaves my mouth. What the hell, Akari? First you pull all that shit on me, and now you're making *me* feel sorry for *you*?
"I thought... I thought that if they saw what great things magic could do, that they'd accept us... I was so proud to have such an amazing brother, and I noticed how lonely you really were..." she replied with a faltering voice, taking a break to let out a few more sobs. "I wanted the people to respect you, if even half as much as I did... I just... Because... I love my brother... I love my onii-chan... I..." she fell quiet for about two seconds, staring at the floor and hiding her face behind her hair. When she looked me in the eye again, her cheeks were still wet from tears and her eyes were encircled with red. But her mouth and gaze resembled a frustrated, childish pout more than anything.
"What curse did you use?" she asked, her voice now firm and resolute. The one regretful glance I managed to give her was enough of an answer. Guess older brothers still do not have the physical ability to hide anything from their younger sisters after all.
With a flick of her fingers, which was painfully loud once again now my mental pain wasn't subduing my incredibly poor bodily state, a pale green orb, the size of a chicken's egg, appeared in her left hand. Once she pushed that hand against my chest, everything went black.
- - - -
...
The oil lantern's light was dim. It shouldn't be. Even if it was cheap junk, it still wasn't a torch. I had never seen a brighter light source in my entire life. But now - now it shone so dimly it might as well not shine at all. Maybe that would even make the room brighter. Still, it was comforting, somehow. Every time I blinked a wave of pure freshness spread through my body. I sat up and reached my arm out to turn the useless thing off, but decided against it before my fingers touched the lantern and lied back down.
"Hyaa... Well, I'm hungry. Akari...!" I called out, letting out a soft sigh immediately after. I never realised her running gait was this loud, nor that my hearing was this sensitive. Seriously, Akari, you're working too hard to take care of your siblings! And keep in mind that the one saying this tried to take on dozens of jobs to feed you and didn't even care about his own health!
A woman with long, brown hair immediately kicked the door open violently enough I couldn't comprehend how these shoddy, rotten planks didn't shatter from the impact. She also managed to keep the wooden plate and all the pieces of fruit and cooked meat on it balanced perfectly on her left hand.
"Good morning, Onii-chan!" she said with a bright smile.
Edit: Tried to replace Reddit formatting line with the intended three dashes or hyphens or whatever they are called, but failed and gave up and accepted the Reddit formatting line. | |
[WP]: You hate this one guy in particular. You also know witchcraft. So you cast a curse to slowly destroy the thing he loves the most. As time passes on, you find that nothing has changed, but you are starting to get sick. | She was a killer. A threat. A menace.
How dare he? How dare he wrestle her into submission, forcing her body into traps that kept her still. She cried as she was stolen away from her family, her people, her kind. What would they do without her? She was a necessity. The patience she possessed. An adept hunter and fighter... and in the deep darkness of night, she could create curses calling cruel spirits to her to obey whatever her demands may be.
She knew her captor was aware of her abilities. Because of it, she was granted special freedoms. Instead of being instantly murdered, as she witnessed happen to others, she was kept in his very own home and kept healthy.
She was curious as to why he hurt so many; one day she wandered over and saw him chewing on the flesh he had stripped and cooked himself. As the curious shock became apparent on her face he left his horrific meal and shoved her into a room where she couldn't see him eat.
Although sparing her life, his abuse towards her was still strong. His elaborate meals were not shared and she ate what gruel he dumped out for her. She was his plaything. He would touch her. Trying to stay alive, she would allow it. It was almost as if he was trying to foster... a relationship. Stroking the side of her face, his hand would move down her back - that was enough. She ran off, and he heaved a frustrated sigh.
It was only a few months after her capture that she could finally escape. The door to his home, now her hell, had been left slightly ajar. She crept up and silently, swiftly, pulled the door just open enough to sprint away. Her bounds were interrupted by his yell coming from behind her.
Ahead of her was the road to freedom. To the right was a dead worm, dried in the sunlight. She decided to turn right, deftly swiping up the worm, recalling the chants needed to use the spell she was considering. But her moment of hesitation had harmed her chances of escape, and she cowered under his shadow as his arms wrapped tightly around her body. She would have cried out for help, but the dead worm was safely kept in her mouth where her captor wouldn't see it.
That night she worked as he slept. Carefully crushing the worm while murmuring in a hushed tone, she cursed her captor. He would wake the next morning and witness one of his loved ones suffer. She quietly trodded back into the bed they shared and she slept. Throughout the night, her stomach twinged. It felt as if waves were crashing.
He awoke in a terror. She watched, eyes bleary and pained, then let out a moan. A phone call - could this be him getting the bad news she had cursed him with? She was excited - then she vomited. His disgust turned to worry as he quickly called a different subject, and the last words she heard as her vision went black were, "Is your vet's office open? I think my cat is sick." | The oil lantern's light was bright. It shouldn't be. Even if it wasn't a torch, it was still cheap junk. I had never seen a more useless light source in my entire life. But now - now it shone so brightly it gave me a headache. Every time I blinked pure a wave of agony that couldn't be caused by anything physical shot through my skull. I tried to sit up and reached my arm to turn the damnable thing off, but a fiery sensation in my spine forced me back down.
"Khg... I've had enough of this. Akari...!" I called out, letting out a soft moan immediately after. I never knew my voice was this loud, nor that my hearing was this sensitive. Seriously, Akari, you're a sadistic monster! And keep in mind that the one accusing you of this tried to curse you and destroy whatever you loved most!
A woman with long, brown hair immediately slammed the door open violently enough I couldn't comprehend how these shoddy, rotten planks didn't shatter from the impact. Wasting not even a second, she opened several leather pouches, each filled with several herbs. "Yes, I'm here! What is the problem, I'll find th-" she nearly cried. Come on, do you really think I'm *that* dense?
"Stop, please. Just... Stop. Finish it already. I get it, I was wrong, I'm sorry. Just... Please put an end to it. Or at least don't prolong my suffering." I mumbled softly.
Akari's already pale face reached a shade of white so pale and devoid of life I couldn't even call 'white' anymore. With that, the worry that was present only a split second ago was replaced by shock. She's good at acting, I'll give her that... Though I haven't got a single memory of Akari acting well. If anything, I'd say she was honest to a fault. No, to several faults. I remember wondering if she was even capable of saying anything that wasn't the direct and full truth.
"O-Onii-chan? What do you mean? Y-You haven't done anything wrong, onii-chan... Please, just leave it to me, you'll be better in no time!" she sobbed.
"For the love of... Sure, I'm not as powerful as you are, but your brother here isn't an idiot either! I'm not sick and we both damn well know it! So stop burying me in these herbs and drowning me with all these potions, because they will only serve to extend my suffering! But that's no news for you, is it? You noticed I cursed you and you dispelled it and decided to magically torture me to death in return! But I've had enough, you hear? You're either dismissing the curse or slicing my throat open or I'm going to use all my magic in one large explosion so we'll both die!" I yelled. My ears and lungs feel like they got set on fire and started rotting immediately after, but whatever. It'll all be over soon, I'll make sure of it.
However, Akari decides to keep playing dumb... No, never mind that. Tears rolled down her face as she blinked in utter incomprehension. This couldn't be a play any more.
"Onii-chan... Cursed me? B-but why, onii-chan..." she practically breathed out the words. Her voice was indescribably meek. In contrast, I replied with a subdued, frustrated tone.
"Why, you ask? Come now, you're the most powerful and smartest witch I know, how can you not realise this?... I don't like you, Akari. In fact, I hate you. More than I hate everything else in this world combined. Our parents didn't want to care for us so they gave us our own homes in the village. I couldn't let my eight-year-old sister live alone, so I took care of you. I worked so hard to get your food on your plate, not even bothering to care about my own... And what do I get in return? 'My brother can cast spells, look!' 'Oh, you have to add deer blood and rotting grass to the mixture, it says so in the Paranomicon,' and 'Look, onii-chan! I resurrected a rabbit!'... Really, Akari... It might have been the townsfolk that carried the torches, but *you* are the one who burned the house down. You banished me from the village. How many times did I tell you not to use your magic in public? How often did I tell you to keep quiet so that we two could live in peace? Why don't you tell me, huh? Why don't you tell me why you kept causing your brother so much trouble these past seven..."
With every word I said, I felt more and more terrible. It wasn't that my body hurt more from the magic. Mentally, I felt more and more guilt and regret taking shape. I have no idea how long my body would last if someone started beating it now, but I'm sure it'd be whiles longer than my mind would after seeing Akari's crying intensify with every word that leaves my mouth. What the hell, Akari? First you pull all that shit on me, and now you're making *me* feel sorry for *you*?
"I thought... I thought that if they saw what great things magic could do, that they'd accept us... I was so proud to have such an amazing brother, and I noticed how lonely you really were..." she replied with a faltering voice, taking a break to let out a few more sobs. "I wanted the people to respect you, if even half as much as I did... I just... Because... I love my brother... I love my onii-chan... I..." she fell quiet for about two seconds, staring at the floor and hiding her face behind her hair. When she looked me in the eye again, her cheeks were still wet from tears and her eyes were encircled with red. But her mouth and gaze resembled a frustrated, childish pout more than anything.
"What curse did you use?" she asked, her voice now firm and resolute. The one regretful glance I managed to give her was enough of an answer. Guess older brothers still do not have the physical ability to hide anything from their younger sisters after all.
With a flick of her fingers, which was painfully loud once again now my mental pain wasn't subduing my incredibly poor bodily state, a pale green orb, the size of a chicken's egg, appeared in her left hand. Once she pushed that hand against my chest, everything went black.
- - - -
...
The oil lantern's light was dim. It shouldn't be. Even if it was cheap junk, it still wasn't a torch. I had never seen a brighter light source in my entire life. But now - now it shone so dimly it might as well not shine at all. Maybe that would even make the room brighter. Still, it was comforting, somehow. Every time I blinked a wave of pure freshness spread through my body. I sat up and reached my arm out to turn the useless thing off, but decided against it before my fingers touched the lantern and lied back down.
"Hyaa... Well, I'm hungry. Akari...!" I called out, letting out a soft sigh immediately after. I never realised her running gait was this loud, nor that my hearing was this sensitive. Seriously, Akari, you're working too hard to take care of your siblings! And keep in mind that the one saying this tried to take on dozens of jobs to feed you and didn't even care about his own health!
A woman with long, brown hair immediately kicked the door open violently enough I couldn't comprehend how these shoddy, rotten planks didn't shatter from the impact. She also managed to keep the wooden plate and all the pieces of fruit and cooked meat on it balanced perfectly on her left hand.
"Good morning, Onii-chan!" she said with a bright smile.
Edit: Tried to replace Reddit formatting line with the intended three dashes or hyphens or whatever they are called, but failed and gave up and accepted the Reddit formatting line. | |
[WP]: You hate this one guy in particular. You also know witchcraft. So you cast a curse to slowly destroy the thing he loves the most. As time passes on, you find that nothing has changed, but you are starting to get sick. | There I was, lying on a hospital bed. And there were him, looking at me with his insane eyes.
After trying everything, every logical solution, trying this wasn’t going to hurt me, right? This book had been part of my family heritage for centuries. My mother praised it, but she also praised essential oils, so I guess that my skepticism was well founded. I believed in science, and everyone can test witchcraft in desperate situations, but oils? Mom, come on.
I started with the recipe. First, a picture. I cut out his photo out of a newspaper. My best friend thought I was nuts when he saw I kept all the newspapers of the incident. “Why would anyone want that trash?” Guess what, Derrick, it happens that I’ve found a use for them. Second, a drip of blood. It didn’t specify species, so I went for a drip from the pork chops I was going to have for dinner. Lastly… peppermint oil. Guess the obsession made somewhat sense now. I lighted the strongly scented picture on fire, opened the windows to get rid of the smell, cooked my pork chops and went to bed. It all went from bad to worse from there.
\- “… but I love you!” He moaned. “Why would you do this to me!”
\- “Dude, you killed my mom” I couldn’t believe I actually had to explain this.
\- “Well of course I did… I told her that I wanted you, but that stupid woman didn’t understand me. She said I was a pedophile, she was going to take you away from me!”
\- “Dude, I’m twenty, you’re forty!”
\- “I’m actually forty-seven, thanks for the compliment, my love.”
\- “You realize you’re making it worse, right?” I tried to say something else, but my chest became incredibly painful. Now it wasn’t only my liver, but my lungs were betraying me as well. Between all of the pain, I had a brilliant idea. “Do you want me to live?” I asked.
\- “More than anything on this world.”
\- “The spell is getting rid of the thing you love the most in this life. You cannot love things when you’re dead.”
I thought that my comment would make him realize that the thing he loved the most was himself. I wasn’t expecting him to nod soberly and open the window. I wasn’t expecting him to climb that window. I definitely wasn’t expecting him to say “Off I goooooo…” as he fell. After a couple of seconds, breathing became easier.
​
I wrote this as an English practice so any grammar corrections will be greatly appreciated. Thanks for such a cool prompt!
​ |
There are moments in your life you never forget. Moments that stab at your heart so deep, the emotional pain becomes physical. Even after they have healed, they leave behind scars to remind you--to ensure you never forget.
I got my scar 6 years ago.
Don't date in your circle of friends, they say. I should have listened. But when your friends are your fraternity brothers, and all of them are straight that never really becomes an issue. Fate threw a wrench in that plan when it wove John into my circle. He was an ancillary brother, not someone I was close with but friends with my core group. Quiet and unremarkable, I honestly never noticed him. That was until he came to me, late one night, for help coming out. I understand why: we were in the same fraternity, and I was out and well received. He was in the closet and needed advice, and so I gave it. Over the course of several weeks we spoke, we laughed, we bonded. I guided him through the process of coming out, and when he did it went over fine. I was happy, I helped someone get the reaction from friends, and more importantly family, that I had not gotten back in high school. Beneath that happiness was something else though. Something I didn't expect. I fell for him. I fell hard. It was hard not to after spending so much time emotionally bonding with someone. And so, I gathered my courage and asked him out. He said no.
The conversation was your standard cliché decline. There were phrases like "I value you as a friend" and " I don't want to lose you as a friend". It hurt, but I understood. I fought through the pain by convincing myself that it was I who was in the wrong. I was hurt, but you can't blame someone for how they feel right? I needed to let it go and move on.
Apparently, the pain of a "no" wasn't enough for John. He changed after coming out. He was more confident, borderline cocky. Suddenly the friend who talked to me about everything was distant. Calls went unanswered and unreturned. Social interactions dwindled to one-word responses to questions and conversation. The true knife in the gut came one fateful autumn night, when our group returned to a member's apartment for beer pong following a movie. I didn't want to go. Something in me said that I shouldn't. That indescribable feeling you get when you know something bad is coming. My best friend convinced me to go, and I listened.
One game in my world turned upside down. There was a knock on the door and John disappeared, only to return with a guy at his side. I steeled my composure, though I could feel the needles sticking into my heart slowly. John introduced his "friend" to everyone in the room, and I shook his hand, keeping a convincing smile plastered to my face.
*This won't be so bad* I thought. *It hurts, but I am handling this well and so long as I keep an inconspicuous distance--not hard given the number of people now at the apartment--I will give myself room to deal*
John had other plans. For the first time in weeks he suddenly wanted to talk to me...with his new beau. I was like a magnet: no matter how many times I dislodged myself from conversation to move to another group, he followed with the new guy in tow. It started to feel deliberate. He was shoving in my face this guy, trying to get us to talk more and more, forcing interaction. I finally picked up my phone and texted my best friend (the one who convinced me to go) and who was currently in a game of beer pong.
**I would like to go now** I texted
**Can you wait till the end of the game?** he replied, not quite aware that there was a reason beyond my previous reservations for wanting to go home
**Please. I need to go now** I replied.
He looked at me and saw it in my eyes. That is the beauty of best friends, they know when you are being serious and not melodramatic, they know when you are in distress. So, we left.
The moment the car door closed I broke down. He sat in silence and put his hand on my shoulder as he drove. I cried so hard I was heaving by the time we got back to my apartment. My best friend asked if I needed him to come up, but I said no. I had embarrassed myself enough for one night. So, he left, and I walked up several flights of stairs to my apartment, trying my best to make it without breaking down again.
I closed the door, enveloping myself in the darkness of my apartment and sank to the floor. There was nothing left in me. No. There was no more sadness left in me. And when one emotion is depleted, the others become more apparent, like how your senses seem to enhance when you are blindfolded. And of course, one emotion shown like a hot coal in the darkness: anger.
He did it intentionally I realized. I replayed the events of the night over and over, trying to convince myself that what I perceived couldn't be true, that there was no malice in his actions. But my mind came back to the same conclusion: he did this to hurt me. And so, I was going to hurt him back.
See, there is a common misconception about being a witch. A lot of popular culture quotes part of the Wiccan Rede "And it do no harm, do as ye will", taking this to mean that a witch should not cause harm to another. But that is not the full context of the phrase, at least to some of us. We see it instead as a mantra to remind us of consequences. It is not about doing no harm ever, but rather to remind us to consider our actions as there are always consequences, and in the event the action causes no harm, you can proceed with no concern. However, if an action does cause harm, be *aware*of what the consequences may be. Nowhere does it say you cannot act.
Another misconception of popular culture: witchcraft is a bunch of rhyming words and intent, something to be whipped up in a few minutes. In reality it is very much a science and an art. A lot goes into a spell. You need to look up ingredients, similar rituals, words and phrases of power, and celestial events. A proper spell takes weeks of planning to find the right moment to gather everything you need and cast at the same time.
Eventually the time came. It was a new moon, the darkness of the sky perfect for casting spells to harm, and Mars was at its closest point to the Earth- a planet for war and anger. I prepared the items, cast the circle, and began the ritual. I tailored the spell to target John. This was no item found on Pinterest or a Google search. It was customized to rob him of what he loved most in this world, and I was ready to bring my full fury. After an hour of chanting, the spell was cast, and I finished by sealing a specific poppet in a warded box that I locked. See, to undo a spell you don't just wave your hands and "poof" it is unwoven. You need to know what was cast and how it was cast to undo it. While John was not a witch, in the far event he decided to seek supernatural help for the misfortune that would follow him in the coming years I crafted the spell to need the contents of the now sealed box to undo it. I buried the box in a field next to my apartment, a green belt that was well maintained as a bastion of nature in the city. I marked the spot on a map for myself, so that should I need I could recover the box.
Yes, I had planned this well.
\[Continued Below\] | |
[WP]: You hate this one guy in particular. You also know witchcraft. So you cast a curse to slowly destroy the thing he loves the most. As time passes on, you find that nothing has changed, but you are starting to get sick. | She was the love of my life, my muse, my reason for existence. Though we barely exchanged words i felt a deep connection the moment we looked into each others eyes. It had to have been meant to be. I knew i had to act soon so no one else could steal her away and she could finally become mine. Her vibrant yellow hair, beautiful tan skin, and lovely inviting energy was enough to send any damn sicko in a 90-meter radius nuts.
Luckily for her i wouldn't let this happen. She was going to be my bride, we were going to grow old together and feed the ducks at the local pond while watching our grandchildren play near by. It was going to be perfect. How could any damn sicko live up to the perfect, affectionate, and caring husband i was gonna be? Exactly they couldn't, which is exactly why i needed to confess my love right away...
It was a fateful thursday morning, i had gotten up pretty early in anticipation of this event. I had took a shower, brushed my teeth rehearsed some lines to win her over, and as a nice touch to my already amazing appearance i drenched myself in AXE body spray, i had this in the bag! I got to school especially early that morning, from a little studying i noticed that she arrives fairly early to chat with her friends then at about 7:56AM goes to her first period class, human geography. I'd catch her in between her walk to her class and win her over. Simple as that, but as the clock grew closer and i made my approach something deeply unsettling happened.
This fucking barbarian of a man swoops up and snatches her like some kind of animal! Then puts his dirty, filthy lips on her warm, gentle skin. I almost couldn't believe what happened. I left early that day devastated. Lost and confused i wondered what kind of life i could have now that my reason for existence was taken from me. I wondered and wondered, took a nap, and eventually went out on a walk. Looking at all the people, lovely families, children. I came across this old couple feeding some pigeons.. It was at this moment i realized i had to fight for my dream to happen.
She was going to be mine no objections. I wondered where i could find such information as to how she could be mine, how i can undo that horrid spell that fucking barbarian unleashed upon her. Then i remembered the internet existed. I looked up "how to make a girl fall in love with you" nothing particularly useful initially popped up, but as i scrolled and scrolled i found something pretty interesting. "Witchcraft 101: how to cast a powerful love spell to get that special someone interested. Bingo. I found it!
I anxiously ran home oh so eagerly to try it out. According to the forum post all i needed was a pencil and a sheet of paper, i'd write my desire out and make a symbol based of of that. To charge it i'd need an offering "blood"? not about that life. "Semen"? This i can do. The forum post said all i need to do was unleash my load on the sheet of paper where my symbol was, but my love for her was too great, my desires too strong i could do much better. So i poked a hole in the paper and FUCKED THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF IT. If this had been a girl i would've been arrested for manslaughter by now. Anyways, you can imagine what my wish was " make that fucking behemoth get off my sweet little princess and into some other slut's pants, also make that little princess head over heels in love with me."
i was so confident in my magical prowess, i took a sip of strawberry cola and a good night's sleep in celebration. I was happy, and why wouldn't i? The next day i would see their relationship fall apart, and ours beginning. I was once again eager, abd hopeful. Everything's gonna be alright. I went to school the next day and saw them embrace once again, it hurt but i guess it'll take time to work. as the next day came however, the same thing happened. More days past, more weeks, and even months. I lost all confidence in the magic. My life was falling apart.. my car broke down, my grades plummeted and my grandmother died early this week. Things were obviously not going my way. In an attempt to fight against my pain, i developed a junk food addiction. There was a restaurant i was particularly fond of, dominos, my favourite dish was the thin slice box which tasted of both shame and heaven. I would go every friday with whatever money i had left. On my way this one particular day, i saw something that stopped me dead in my tracks.
The brute once again with her... They were embracing, from what i saw he had gotten her roses, and opened the car door for her, they were both smiling. In that moment i realized he makes her happy, way more happy then i could have ever made her. I made my way home rather quickly that day, i didn't even get any food. I guess i just lost my appetite.
A few weeks past since this event, i dropped out of school. My mother wants me to find another job but i haven't go the motivation. Lately I've been feeling very sick. These past few days have just been a series of waking up, eating whatever i have to, then falling back asleep. I never have many thoughts any more. To think i wanted to be a lawyer, guess all those AP classes really just were a waste huh.
My mom left tonight, so I'm the only one in the house, she's going out with her friends, probably to bitch about how shitty a son i turned out to be. That's okay though, when i have alone time i tend to make the best of it. I think I'll just go on a long drive to clear my mind. I walked into the garage, stepped into my vehicle, turned the AC on and prepared to take off. I couldn't help thinking about the girl though, never learned her name, and the brute. I hope they live a happy life together.
I feel very tired, a long drive sounded nice, and it's the perfect timing too, dark and rainy, perfect to think about things.
But i think I'll just close my eyes for a bit. | "I fucking hate you KVN. So. Fucking. Much. Do you know that? Your existence causes me pain. Literal. EXCRUCIATING. Pain."
"Weeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"
I cough up more blood, trying my best to splatter it on KVN. "I held out hope that you just loved those cookies. That you tortured me because of those God damned COOKIES! BUT no, your twisted affection for ME, a person who LOOOOOOATHS you, is real? FUCK YOU KVN, YOU FLAMING PILE OF GAR..." I cough up more blood and this time it brings me to my knees. KVN continues to make up a song about how he's my best friend. There is only one repeated line to this song, "I'm his best friend."
"LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE! I can't even insult you anymore. I can't even CURSE YOU PROPERLY!"
"GGGAAAARRRRYYYYY!!!! Isn't it great to have friends? Want a cookie friend?"
"You know what KVN, why not, I've already cursed myself into dying a slow and painful death, might as well finally have a..." And just like that KVN smushes the cookie against his stupid, horrible, metallic face. He stares at me with a shit eating grin on his face, and just as I'm about to start telling again he raises his arms in the air and rushes off down the hallway yelling, "WEEEEEEEEEEEE."
"GOD DAMMIT KVN! I HATE YOU SO MUCH!!" | |
[WP]: You hate this one guy in particular. You also know witchcraft. So you cast a curse to slowly destroy the thing he loves the most. As time passes on, you find that nothing has changed, but you are starting to get sick. | There I was, lying on a hospital bed. And there were him, looking at me with his insane eyes.
After trying everything, every logical solution, trying this wasn’t going to hurt me, right? This book had been part of my family heritage for centuries. My mother praised it, but she also praised essential oils, so I guess that my skepticism was well founded. I believed in science, and everyone can test witchcraft in desperate situations, but oils? Mom, come on.
I started with the recipe. First, a picture. I cut out his photo out of a newspaper. My best friend thought I was nuts when he saw I kept all the newspapers of the incident. “Why would anyone want that trash?” Guess what, Derrick, it happens that I’ve found a use for them. Second, a drip of blood. It didn’t specify species, so I went for a drip from the pork chops I was going to have for dinner. Lastly… peppermint oil. Guess the obsession made somewhat sense now. I lighted the strongly scented picture on fire, opened the windows to get rid of the smell, cooked my pork chops and went to bed. It all went from bad to worse from there.
\- “… but I love you!” He moaned. “Why would you do this to me!”
\- “Dude, you killed my mom” I couldn’t believe I actually had to explain this.
\- “Well of course I did… I told her that I wanted you, but that stupid woman didn’t understand me. She said I was a pedophile, she was going to take you away from me!”
\- “Dude, I’m twenty, you’re forty!”
\- “I’m actually forty-seven, thanks for the compliment, my love.”
\- “You realize you’re making it worse, right?” I tried to say something else, but my chest became incredibly painful. Now it wasn’t only my liver, but my lungs were betraying me as well. Between all of the pain, I had a brilliant idea. “Do you want me to live?” I asked.
\- “More than anything on this world.”
\- “The spell is getting rid of the thing you love the most in this life. You cannot love things when you’re dead.”
I thought that my comment would make him realize that the thing he loved the most was himself. I wasn’t expecting him to nod soberly and open the window. I wasn’t expecting him to climb that window. I definitely wasn’t expecting him to say “Off I goooooo…” as he fell. After a couple of seconds, breathing became easier.
​
I wrote this as an English practice so any grammar corrections will be greatly appreciated. Thanks for such a cool prompt!
​ | "I fucking hate you KVN. So. Fucking. Much. Do you know that? Your existence causes me pain. Literal. EXCRUCIATING. Pain."
"Weeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"
I cough up more blood, trying my best to splatter it on KVN. "I held out hope that you just loved those cookies. That you tortured me because of those God damned COOKIES! BUT no, your twisted affection for ME, a person who LOOOOOOATHS you, is real? FUCK YOU KVN, YOU FLAMING PILE OF GAR..." I cough up more blood and this time it brings me to my knees. KVN continues to make up a song about how he's my best friend. There is only one repeated line to this song, "I'm his best friend."
"LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE! I can't even insult you anymore. I can't even CURSE YOU PROPERLY!"
"GGGAAAARRRRYYYYY!!!! Isn't it great to have friends? Want a cookie friend?"
"You know what KVN, why not, I've already cursed myself into dying a slow and painful death, might as well finally have a..." And just like that KVN smushes the cookie against his stupid, horrible, metallic face. He stares at me with a shit eating grin on his face, and just as I'm about to start telling again he raises his arms in the air and rushes off down the hallway yelling, "WEEEEEEEEEEEE."
"GOD DAMMIT KVN! I HATE YOU SO MUCH!!" | |
[WP]: You hate this one guy in particular. You also know witchcraft. So you cast a curse to slowly destroy the thing he loves the most. As time passes on, you find that nothing has changed, but you are starting to get sick. | She was a killer. A threat. A menace.
How dare he? How dare he wrestle her into submission, forcing her body into traps that kept her still. She cried as she was stolen away from her family, her people, her kind. What would they do without her? She was a necessity. The patience she possessed. An adept hunter and fighter... and in the deep darkness of night, she could create curses calling cruel spirits to her to obey whatever her demands may be.
She knew her captor was aware of her abilities. Because of it, she was granted special freedoms. Instead of being instantly murdered, as she witnessed happen to others, she was kept in his very own home and kept healthy.
She was curious as to why he hurt so many; one day she wandered over and saw him chewing on the flesh he had stripped and cooked himself. As the curious shock became apparent on her face he left his horrific meal and shoved her into a room where she couldn't see him eat.
Although sparing her life, his abuse towards her was still strong. His elaborate meals were not shared and she ate what gruel he dumped out for her. She was his plaything. He would touch her. Trying to stay alive, she would allow it. It was almost as if he was trying to foster... a relationship. Stroking the side of her face, his hand would move down her back - that was enough. She ran off, and he heaved a frustrated sigh.
It was only a few months after her capture that she could finally escape. The door to his home, now her hell, had been left slightly ajar. She crept up and silently, swiftly, pulled the door just open enough to sprint away. Her bounds were interrupted by his yell coming from behind her.
Ahead of her was the road to freedom. To the right was a dead worm, dried in the sunlight. She decided to turn right, deftly swiping up the worm, recalling the chants needed to use the spell she was considering. But her moment of hesitation had harmed her chances of escape, and she cowered under his shadow as his arms wrapped tightly around her body. She would have cried out for help, but the dead worm was safely kept in her mouth where her captor wouldn't see it.
That night she worked as he slept. Carefully crushing the worm while murmuring in a hushed tone, she cursed her captor. He would wake the next morning and witness one of his loved ones suffer. She quietly trodded back into the bed they shared and she slept. Throughout the night, her stomach twinged. It felt as if waves were crashing.
He awoke in a terror. She watched, eyes bleary and pained, then let out a moan. A phone call - could this be him getting the bad news she had cursed him with? She was excited - then she vomited. His disgust turned to worry as he quickly called a different subject, and the last words she heard as her vision went black were, "Is your vet's office open? I think my cat is sick." | "I fucking hate you KVN. So. Fucking. Much. Do you know that? Your existence causes me pain. Literal. EXCRUCIATING. Pain."
"Weeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"
I cough up more blood, trying my best to splatter it on KVN. "I held out hope that you just loved those cookies. That you tortured me because of those God damned COOKIES! BUT no, your twisted affection for ME, a person who LOOOOOOATHS you, is real? FUCK YOU KVN, YOU FLAMING PILE OF GAR..." I cough up more blood and this time it brings me to my knees. KVN continues to make up a song about how he's my best friend. There is only one repeated line to this song, "I'm his best friend."
"LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE! I can't even insult you anymore. I can't even CURSE YOU PROPERLY!"
"GGGAAAARRRRYYYYY!!!! Isn't it great to have friends? Want a cookie friend?"
"You know what KVN, why not, I've already cursed myself into dying a slow and painful death, might as well finally have a..." And just like that KVN smushes the cookie against his stupid, horrible, metallic face. He stares at me with a shit eating grin on his face, and just as I'm about to start telling again he raises his arms in the air and rushes off down the hallway yelling, "WEEEEEEEEEEEE."
"GOD DAMMIT KVN! I HATE YOU SO MUCH!!" | |
[WP]: You hate this one guy in particular. You also know witchcraft. So you cast a curse to slowly destroy the thing he loves the most. As time passes on, you find that nothing has changed, but you are starting to get sick. | It's been a long time since I wrote anything and it's my first writing prompt, but I found the scenario really cool! Feedback and critiques welcome.Edit: Catching writing errors
\-------------------------
The full moon hung low in the sky as I trudged my way up the path, mud beneath my boots. The cold night breeze caressed my hair, and I felt tingling along my skin as invisible presences drew close, only to retreat, as if I was a curiosity, quickly sated.
I felt it before I saw it. A mound, at the foot of a cluster of old beech trees, looking otherwise like an ordinary patch of foliage and undergrowth on slightly raised soil. My hair stood on end as I entered the centre of the mount, heart pounding.
I knelt, slowly, deliberately, lifting a black bag from the folds of my cloak, the bells on my wrist rustling gently with the movement. I reached into the bag, fingers closing around the handle of my magic dagger, brought it to my eyes, inscribed runes glinting in the moonlight.
The dagger never returns into the bag until its work is finished.
I drew out a picture of a young man from the bag. Brandon. A brown haired boy in a basketball uniform, wearing glasses, the flash of the camera glistening on his sweaty smile. A wave of anger rushed through me at the sight. I set the picture down on the floor, and, dipping my knife into red pigment, cut the strokes of a rune across the picture in swift, rehearsed strokes. It was as if all the hatred in me had been gathered from every nerve and every cell of my body and condensed into the very tip of the knife, slicing white hot into this man; this monster. Memories of my brother flashed through my head. My innocent brother, with his whole life ahead of him. That fateful night this man took him from the house, I had a sinking feeling in my stomach that I didn’t heed. I remembered the cold body of my brother lying in the hospital as they told me he died of a drug overdose- and I knew who gave it to him. He never apologized.
I held my dagger with a trembling hand as I completed the rune, my breaths haggard. Placing the dagger back into the bag, I struck a match. Its flames licked at the picture, and I watched it dissolve into ashes, its specks carried away by the wind. I shook my wrist, ringing the bells.
I wanted him to know what it was like to lose what he loved the most.
​
\---------------------------------
I woke up feeling like I couldn’t breathe. A coughing fit came over me, and I caught something liquid in my hand. Blindly grasping in the darkness, I flipped the switch of my bedside lamp, looking down at myself.
Blood. Bright red, over my sheets, on my hand. I stared at it for a long time as I caught my breath. My eyes immediately darted to the talismans hanging around my bed. The entire room was bristling with wards and protections. They’d not been disturbed.
I wiped my hand on the bloodstained cloth I had next to the bed, fumbling with the drawer as I reached for my pills, downing it quickly with the glass of water I had already prepared. Tuberculosis, the doctors said. And yet they found no signs of the bacteria. My lungs were haemorrhaging, and nobody knew why. They gave me medicine to try to stop the bleeding, but nothing was working.
Nothing would work. I knew what could make that happen.
As the sun rose, I showered and dressed, feeling extraordinarily lightheaded. I could barely stand on the train. My head was spinning and my mind raced.
I’ve already exhausted all the rituals I knew to counter curses, and I was running out of options.
As the doors opened, I briefly considered not leaving, death weighing heavily on my mind, but somehow, I summoned the strength to walk out, all the way to class.
If Brandon was a wizard, he did an exceedingly good job hiding it. I watched the brown haired boy from the picture stride confidently into the classroom with his friends. No hair stood up on my arm as he walked past me. No signs of any wards or talismans as he unzipped his bags to take his books out. Nothing seemed to have changed for him. He was still his usual, jovial self, a sight that caused me such fury.
I began to fear. Perhaps, he was a wizard of such unimaginable power that I couldn’t hope to curse him, and he’d placed one on me that couldn’t be stopped.
I immediately started coughing again, taking out my cloth to catch the blood, tried to cover it with my hands.
‘Clare, are you alright?’
I knew whose voice it was. I felt his hand on my shoulder.
‘I’m fine,’ I said, turning away.
‘I saw that- you’re coughing blood!’
‘I said I’m…’
A profound wave of dizziness suddenly took over me, and then I was on the ground, faces looming over me. I was in someone’s arms- Brandon’s.
‘Someone call the ambulance!’ He cried. My eyes widened in rage, and I weakly tried to push him away.
‘Fuck off… You… You did this…’ I said, feeling my head spin.
But even as the words left my mouth, I saw the terror on his face, the desperation in his voice, and I doubted.
‘Stay with me!’ He said.
And then there was nothing.
​
\--------------------------------------------------
​
I woke up with a start, in a room I didn’t know. I realized there was a mask over my face.
‘You’re finally awake,’ I heard someone say. A rustling of clothing, footsteps drawing near.
I knew that voice.
‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ I said acidly, turning to look at Brandon as he sat next to my bed. I realized that I was in a hospital ward. My heart sank as I thought about having to pay for all of that.
‘You’ve got no family here. Someone had to come.’
‘I wonder why.’
Brandon was silent. The air hung thick with the silence, and I saw something in his eyes change.
‘I know,’ he said quietly.
‘I don’t know what you did, but I’m dying. As you probably… wanted,’ I said, coughing.
‘What do you mean, “as I probably wanted”? I… I…’
‘Just admit it. This isn’t tuberculosis. This… This is…’
‘What are you saying, Clare? You’re not making any sense.’
‘You killed my brother. And now you’re coming for me. You must be pretty thrilled to see me dying.’
His voice was trembling. ‘How could you say that? You have no idea what happened there between me and your brother! He was my friend! I tried to tell him. I tried to stop him! But he insisted… Said he knew what he was doing… and then he… I…’
Brandon broke down, head in his heads. Then, gathering himself, he looked me in the eye.
‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry, for all the pain it must have caused you. I was stupid. Every single day, I wish I was the one who died.’
His words shocked me into silence.
‘I know you hate me. And I deserve all of that. But I don’t hate you. You know…’
I reeled mentally as I realized the enormity of what I’d done. Brandon never apologized not because he was a monster. He was just a coward, nothing more than a stupid teenager-
‘I… I love you, Clare. It hurts me so much to see you like this,’ he finished. He rubbed at an eye. ‘I want you to know that in case you… You…’
I was the monster. I did this.
The air was pregnant with unspoken words. He sat still, not daring to move.
I laughed. Laughed bitterly. Of course none of the protections worked. Of course I couldn't tell who cast the curse. *Of course*... Brandon looked up and stared at me, eyes wide in horror and confusion.
I’d have to go back to the forest. Back to the mound. Unmake the rune I made there. I couldn’t do it. But Brandon… Maybe...
I laughed- at myself, at Brandon, at everything. I am a fool.
‘Hey, Brandon,’ I whispered. ‘Tell you a secret…’ | "I fucking hate you KVN. So. Fucking. Much. Do you know that? Your existence causes me pain. Literal. EXCRUCIATING. Pain."
"Weeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"
I cough up more blood, trying my best to splatter it on KVN. "I held out hope that you just loved those cookies. That you tortured me because of those God damned COOKIES! BUT no, your twisted affection for ME, a person who LOOOOOOATHS you, is real? FUCK YOU KVN, YOU FLAMING PILE OF GAR..." I cough up more blood and this time it brings me to my knees. KVN continues to make up a song about how he's my best friend. There is only one repeated line to this song, "I'm his best friend."
"LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE! I can't even insult you anymore. I can't even CURSE YOU PROPERLY!"
"GGGAAAARRRRYYYYY!!!! Isn't it great to have friends? Want a cookie friend?"
"You know what KVN, why not, I've already cursed myself into dying a slow and painful death, might as well finally have a..." And just like that KVN smushes the cookie against his stupid, horrible, metallic face. He stares at me with a shit eating grin on his face, and just as I'm about to start telling again he raises his arms in the air and rushes off down the hallway yelling, "WEEEEEEEEEEEE."
"GOD DAMMIT KVN! I HATE YOU SO MUCH!!" | |
[WP]: You hate this one guy in particular. You also know witchcraft. So you cast a curse to slowly destroy the thing he loves the most. As time passes on, you find that nothing has changed, but you are starting to get sick. | It couldn't have backfired. No, there was no way. I was too adept, too well versed. I'd gone over the ritual again and again before casting the spell. I knew far too well how easily these things could go wrong and I'd taken every precaution to ensure that wouldn't happen. Still, I had found myself growing weaker and weaker without cause.
I usually never evoked the use of such dark magics. I'd never hurt anyone else in my life, magically or otherwise, but this man... No. This *monster* was a special case. I'd known him for years and the more I found out, the more I knew something had to be done.
To the outside world, Dr. Everett Baxter was a prominent cardiovascular surgeon and one of the best in the country, with such a carefully crafted backstory. When his young daughter mysteriously got sick and eventually succumbed to her illness, his wife supposedly took her own life, unable to bear the grief. I had been one of the doctors trying to treat little Emma and the case had certainly baffled all of us. There was no scientific reason she should have been ill. Even the autopsy had shown a perfectly healthy little girl. As for his wife, Maria, her death had been ruled a suicide, but nothing about it seemed consistent for me, but it had been for the insurance company. Dr. Baxter had an evil aura around him. I could sense it. It was more malevolent than anything I'd ever encountered. And I knew somehow he'd killed them both.
So after a while, I'd done it. I cast the spell to take away the thing he loved most. I had been so certain it would be himself. He wasn't capable of loving anything else.
"Dr. Reynolds, " He addressed me in the hall one afternoon. I knew I was looking worse for wear and probably shouldn't have been at work at all, but I couldn't bring myself to go home. "Do you have a moment we could speak in my office?"
My body was aching and every bone in my body was screaming at me to stay away from him, but curiosity had me. He had no business being on this floor, so he must have sought me out. I gave a nod and followed him to his office.
"Dr. Baxter," I began once we were inside, but he held up a hand to stop me.
"Let's skip all the formalities and pretense, shall we, Jenna? I'd surmise you don't have long left. Perhaps a day, maybe two? It would be a pity for you to die without understanding why," He stated, looking satisfied with the shock coursing through me. "I think we both know and have for some time now what one another really are. And I've figured out what you've done. I have to hand it to you. It was incredibly clever," He said, moving unbearably close as he circled me like a lion circling its prey. He leaned in behind me, his hot breath hitting my neck as he whispered to me. "That's one of the reasons I love you so much."
---
Thanks for reading! For more prompt fills and stories, visit /r/AgentPeggyCarter | "I fucking hate you KVN. So. Fucking. Much. Do you know that? Your existence causes me pain. Literal. EXCRUCIATING. Pain."
"Weeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"
I cough up more blood, trying my best to splatter it on KVN. "I held out hope that you just loved those cookies. That you tortured me because of those God damned COOKIES! BUT no, your twisted affection for ME, a person who LOOOOOOATHS you, is real? FUCK YOU KVN, YOU FLAMING PILE OF GAR..." I cough up more blood and this time it brings me to my knees. KVN continues to make up a song about how he's my best friend. There is only one repeated line to this song, "I'm his best friend."
"LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE! I can't even insult you anymore. I can't even CURSE YOU PROPERLY!"
"GGGAAAARRRRYYYYY!!!! Isn't it great to have friends? Want a cookie friend?"
"You know what KVN, why not, I've already cursed myself into dying a slow and painful death, might as well finally have a..." And just like that KVN smushes the cookie against his stupid, horrible, metallic face. He stares at me with a shit eating grin on his face, and just as I'm about to start telling again he raises his arms in the air and rushes off down the hallway yelling, "WEEEEEEEEEEEE."
"GOD DAMMIT KVN! I HATE YOU SO MUCH!!" | |
[WP]: You hate this one guy in particular. You also know witchcraft. So you cast a curse to slowly destroy the thing he loves the most. As time passes on, you find that nothing has changed, but you are starting to get sick. | I paused in my journal as a large drop of blood fell dramatically from my nose to land on the center of the adjacent page, turning it into something that resembled the flag of Japan. Briefly, I considered leaving it there. A monument, of sorts.
I imagined him reading this after I was gone, and seeing my deterioration in the pages as it went along. Imagined him realizing, as I did, what my selfish thoughts and careless magik had wrought. Hot tears charged down my face and leaped towards the page, mingling with the drop of blood to become some type of morbid splatter art.
A memory came to me, unbidden, of playing ball as a child. The ball hit a bump, popped up and caught me in the nose. It bled and I cried then, too. Mom had been a 'there, there honey, let's get you cleaned up' type of mother. So expressive with her love. Later, when Dad found out about it, he'd taken a much more Jimmy Dougan stance.
He'd missed the game, of course. Missed most of them. Missed some of my birthdays. My graduation. Important clients, important business trips, important job.
If he had at one point just told me how important I was, then maybe...
After the tears stopped again, I continued writing. I needed him to know, when he read this, that I didn't mean to hurt him. I didn't want him to suffer. I didn't know how to talk to him, and I realize now he didn't know how to talk to me.
I need him to know that I love him as much as he loves me, and not his job, and I had just wanted time with my dad. | "I fucking hate you KVN. So. Fucking. Much. Do you know that? Your existence causes me pain. Literal. EXCRUCIATING. Pain."
"Weeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"
I cough up more blood, trying my best to splatter it on KVN. "I held out hope that you just loved those cookies. That you tortured me because of those God damned COOKIES! BUT no, your twisted affection for ME, a person who LOOOOOOATHS you, is real? FUCK YOU KVN, YOU FLAMING PILE OF GAR..." I cough up more blood and this time it brings me to my knees. KVN continues to make up a song about how he's my best friend. There is only one repeated line to this song, "I'm his best friend."
"LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE! I can't even insult you anymore. I can't even CURSE YOU PROPERLY!"
"GGGAAAARRRRYYYYY!!!! Isn't it great to have friends? Want a cookie friend?"
"You know what KVN, why not, I've already cursed myself into dying a slow and painful death, might as well finally have a..." And just like that KVN smushes the cookie against his stupid, horrible, metallic face. He stares at me with a shit eating grin on his face, and just as I'm about to start telling again he raises his arms in the air and rushes off down the hallway yelling, "WEEEEEEEEEEEE."
"GOD DAMMIT KVN! I HATE YOU SO MUCH!!" | |
[WP]: You hate this one guy in particular. You also know witchcraft. So you cast a curse to slowly destroy the thing he loves the most. As time passes on, you find that nothing has changed, but you are starting to get sick. | "It backfired," I told Marie, glaring daggers at her. This was all her fault. I was fine to just continue being quietly passive-aggressive with Tom for the next two years until my contract was done and I could move over to the mountains and become some small town's crazy hermit witch. It was even occasionally entertaining. But no, she had to get all up-in-arms about what he said about me being 'frightening', and she had to egg me on after one of our fights, and she had to give me the stupid fucking spell book.
"What, how?" She asked, looking at my condition. Black vein-like lines had begun making their way from the tips of my digits to the rest of my body. It started off slow, but a couple of days in and it hurt every time I tried to move my hands or my feet, both of which were mostly covered in black at this point. "You did it perfectly. You were amazing! We were gonna show him--"
"I don't know how, but unless you figure something out--"
"Okay, okay, let's think. Did you cast it on you? Are you the thing you love most?"
I frowned. "No...? You saw me cast it."
"Okay, how about--"
Tom entered the staff room. "Well what are you two little foxes doing today?"
"Nothing, Sam and I--" Marie started, but I silenced her with a glare.
"We messed up a curse--one that was a lot stronger than it was supposed to be," I added, looking at Marie, "--and now some black magic is eating me alive."
He rolled his eyes. "Ha ha, very funny, 'let's all show the black magic guy how scary his research area is'. You know, if you're going to come up with a prank--"
I showed him my hands and he fell silent.
"Now, Tom, you know it is not like me to ask for your help--especially since this curse was directed at you--but if you could point me to the right resources on the topic of black magic..."
He paled.
"Oh, so it's worse than I thought." I went on, "Marie, can you get the book? I'm sure there's a clause in it somewhere that--"
"Kiss me," he said, barely above a whisper.
"Excuse me?"
"Kiss me! It's--if you want to live you need to kiss me," he said, suddenly desperate.
"What, is it dispelled by disgust?" Marie asked. I moved to rub my temples but my hands hurt too much.
"It's powered by love. Isn't it?" he asked, not expecting us to answer. "It's powered by love. I know this curse. I can overpower it, but it requires an intimate act. Now, unless you want to strip naked so we can do it here and now, I think a kiss is the best option."
"Fine," I said, "Prepare the spell."
He nodded, and I saw him cast white magic for the first time since I met him. It was mesmerizing, as he clothed his right hand in light. He slowly moved his fingers towards my chin, then held it softly.
"Ready?" he asked.
I nodded, and he kissed me.
A cool, white light came over me, and the painful black lines vanished from my skin.
I pulled away after a moment. "Thank you, Tom."
"I... yes. I--I mean, you--it--Anytime. I mean, not anytime, you shouldn't be doing that--why would you do that--I don't mean to be accusatory, I--it just--you scared me."
I squinted at him. "...What?"
"Nothing--I'm--you didn't--I'm not trying to--" he stammered some more and I stared at him until he shut his mouth and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I have to go."
"Tom, did I cast that spell right?" I asked, as he turned to leave.
"What?"
"Did I cast it right?" I asked, "I have been working under the assumption that I failed to cast it right, and that is why it affected me."
"I..." he moved his mouth in some vague shapes, but no sound came out of it.
"If I have failed at casting a spell of that magnitude, I should book an appointment with the Magical Performance Council, so that I may have my license placed in probation until such a time as I can--"
"Yes! It was fine! You are incapable of casting a spell wrong--do you have to torture me?"
I raised an eyebrow. "Look, how you feel is your business, I was just asking because--"
"You know. You have to know. How can you not know?" he asked, indignantly. "You're the most beautiful, most talented, most brilliant person to ever walk these halls--you don't have to lord it over me, and you don't have to mock me when I--when I..."
I chuckled. "I am not--"
"Yes you are! How can you possibly not see it?"
I choked out a laugh, "You realize that Merlin himself--"
"Okay, so maybe not the most, but--still!"
"You publish more than I do."
"Because you make me!"
To this I had no reply. I noticed Marie trying to leave the room discreetly. The silence dragged on for a moment. He looked at me, then looked everywhere but me, then sighed.
His voice was quiet when he said "I want to be good enough for you."
The next words came out of my mouth almost without my permission. "You're good enough right now, you don't need to..." I trailed off as I realized what I had said. He paused, and looked at me for a long moment. Then he spoke.
"Are you free for dinner tomorrow?" | "I fucking hate you KVN. So. Fucking. Much. Do you know that? Your existence causes me pain. Literal. EXCRUCIATING. Pain."
"Weeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"
I cough up more blood, trying my best to splatter it on KVN. "I held out hope that you just loved those cookies. That you tortured me because of those God damned COOKIES! BUT no, your twisted affection for ME, a person who LOOOOOOATHS you, is real? FUCK YOU KVN, YOU FLAMING PILE OF GAR..." I cough up more blood and this time it brings me to my knees. KVN continues to make up a song about how he's my best friend. There is only one repeated line to this song, "I'm his best friend."
"LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE! I can't even insult you anymore. I can't even CURSE YOU PROPERLY!"
"GGGAAAARRRRYYYYY!!!! Isn't it great to have friends? Want a cookie friend?"
"You know what KVN, why not, I've already cursed myself into dying a slow and painful death, might as well finally have a..." And just like that KVN smushes the cookie against his stupid, horrible, metallic face. He stares at me with a shit eating grin on his face, and just as I'm about to start telling again he raises his arms in the air and rushes off down the hallway yelling, "WEEEEEEEEEEEE."
"GOD DAMMIT KVN! I HATE YOU SO MUCH!!" | |
[WP]: You hate this one guy in particular. You also know witchcraft. So you cast a curse to slowly destroy the thing he loves the most. As time passes on, you find that nothing has changed, but you are starting to get sick. | College students spilled out into the quad, Miranda Bates being among them. She slowed as she passed by the tall oak tree shadowing over the alchemist building. Her attention fixed, watching someone she loathed – his name, Anthony Parker.
“Great spell you casted!” mocked Miranda’s best friend, Fiona, coming up from behind. Fiona was a tall, sharp looking individual. Everyone would turn to notice her because of her dark clothing that showcased her rare vibrant ruby hair. Her hair was a sign of rare magic and was not a common gene among the students. Miranda rolled her eyes in envy watching Anthony Parker play fetch with his dog, Murphy. “Maybe Murphy is immune to spells? Maybe Murphy is a familiar?”
“He’s not a familiar! He’s a dumb, stupid dog just like his owner!” Miranda’s anger sparked a small flame against the bark of the oak tree.
“Careful. We aren’t allowed to use magic in the quad.” Fiona reminded her, holding back her laughter.
“We aren’t really supposed to use magic at all.” Miranda tilted her head, biting down on her lip. She closed her eyes and curled her fist to help calm herself.
“Well,” Fiona smiled, “too bad for the sororities who don’t!” she winked. “When did you cast the spell?”
“Over two weeks ago.” Miranda explained before being interrupted by the cough she'd had all morning.
“You okay?” Fiona asked while taking out a water bottle.
“I’m fine.” Miranda took a sip.
“No, you’re rusty. I watched you cast it. You were trembling as if you were thinking about backing out of it altogether.”
“No, I wasn’t! Anthony and that damn dog deserve it!” Miranda snapped back. She pulled her long charcoal hair back into a bun. She ran her fingers down her thigh feeling the scar Murphy gave her before she had told Anthony she never wanted to see him again.
“Still haven’t gotten rid of the scar?” Fiona took her hand out and placed it over Miranda’s thigh.
“Don’t! That scar will remind me not to feel bad after Murphy’s gone.”
Fiona rolled her eyes before crossing her arms. “Yea, looks like you're succeeding in that department.”
“I don’t understand. The spell was made to look like natural sickness of the thing you love most. I don’t understand why Murphy's still not sick.”
Fiona pondered, resting her fore finger over her lips. “Maybe he doesn’t love Murphy the most?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. He doesn’t care about anything else except that little brat.”
“Well, it’s been fun, but it’s a Friday and I plan to get drunk, so – I’ll catch you later.” Fiona snapped her fingers changing her entire identity into a bright red eagle. She soared over the alchemist building as a professor walked out.
“Fiona! This is your last warning!” The professor dropped his books and ran after her. “Magic is not allowed!”
Anthony threw the stick over Murphy’s head. Murphy instantly turned around to recover the stick beside a group of bushes. Miranda continued watching until her cough came back. She leaned over coughing harder until she was forced to grab hold of the oak for support. Anthony turned his attention onto Miranda.
“What are you looking at? Go back to your beast.” Miranda coughed again. This time, however, she cupped her right palm over her mouth finding blood mixed in her saliva. “What in the?”
Miranda looked up only to find Anthony still staring at her. She quickly glanced over to find Murphy grabbing hold of the stick in his mouth.
“Did someone curse you? You know they will be arrested and put on trial.” Anthony walked up trying to help her between the coughs.
“Get away from me!” She pulled away from him.
“Look, I’m just trying to help. Do you know who would have cursed you?” Miranda glared into Murphy’s eyes who started to walk back with his stick.
“If your dog comes near me,” Miranda threatened. “I swear, I” she was interrupted by Anthony snapping his fingers. Slowly, Murphy turned into a small haze of fog before rolling away with the autumn leaves. Miranda’s eyes widened.
“Why did,” she started but Anthony immediately replied,
“He wasn’t real. Well, I mean, not really.”
“I don’t understand.” Miranda straightened her back before coughing again. “Why did your made-up dog bite me? Why did you waste magic creating a dog?”
“Well, ok the whole biting thing was my fault. I may have messed up the spell a little bit, but oh well.”
“Messed up the spell?” Miranda was confused.
“Yea, Fiona gave me a spell to use for the dog because she told me you had a thing for dogs.”
“Well I did, until yours bit me!” Miranda tried fighting the urge of coughing. “Wait, so Fiona gave you the spell for a dog? How did you mess it up so badly? Aren’t you like the top of your class?”
“Well yea,” Anthony lowered his head. “I was just nervous, I guess, but never-mind all that. We need to find out who cursed you.”
“Wait, why did you care if I was into dogs? Are you into me?” Miranda fell against the tree. Sweat started to run down her brow.
“Seriously, Miranda, you don’t look so good. We need to get you over to healing.”
“Fiona,” Miranda started to whisper before falling onto the ground.
“Miranda! Miranda! Can you hear me?” Anthony grasped her arms. Other students started to crowd around as a couple of Anthony’s classmates helped him pick Miranda off the ground.
Anthony leaned in closer to Miranda while she kept trying to whisper something into his ear. “Fiona gave me the spell to curse you.”
Anthony’s eyes widened in shock. Miranda’s eyes completely closed as her breathing slowed. Students were all whispering to one another as one student in particular stood far behind the crowd leaned up against the History Building. Fiona couldn’t hide her smile. She watched as Anthony held onto Miranda.
“Finally.” Fiona said to herself. “No more competition.”
***
Want to read more? Visit [13th Olympian Stories!](https://www.reddit.com/r/13thOlympian/) | "I fucking hate you KVN. So. Fucking. Much. Do you know that? Your existence causes me pain. Literal. EXCRUCIATING. Pain."
"Weeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"
I cough up more blood, trying my best to splatter it on KVN. "I held out hope that you just loved those cookies. That you tortured me because of those God damned COOKIES! BUT no, your twisted affection for ME, a person who LOOOOOOATHS you, is real? FUCK YOU KVN, YOU FLAMING PILE OF GAR..." I cough up more blood and this time it brings me to my knees. KVN continues to make up a song about how he's my best friend. There is only one repeated line to this song, "I'm his best friend."
"LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE! I can't even insult you anymore. I can't even CURSE YOU PROPERLY!"
"GGGAAAARRRRYYYYY!!!! Isn't it great to have friends? Want a cookie friend?"
"You know what KVN, why not, I've already cursed myself into dying a slow and painful death, might as well finally have a..." And just like that KVN smushes the cookie against his stupid, horrible, metallic face. He stares at me with a shit eating grin on his face, and just as I'm about to start telling again he raises his arms in the air and rushes off down the hallway yelling, "WEEEEEEEEEEEE."
"GOD DAMMIT KVN! I HATE YOU SO MUCH!!" | |
[WP]: You hate this one guy in particular. You also know witchcraft. So you cast a curse to slowly destroy the thing he loves the most. As time passes on, you find that nothing has changed, but you are starting to get sick. | There I was, lying on a hospital bed. And there were him, looking at me with his insane eyes.
After trying everything, every logical solution, trying this wasn’t going to hurt me, right? This book had been part of my family heritage for centuries. My mother praised it, but she also praised essential oils, so I guess that my skepticism was well founded. I believed in science, and everyone can test witchcraft in desperate situations, but oils? Mom, come on.
I started with the recipe. First, a picture. I cut out his photo out of a newspaper. My best friend thought I was nuts when he saw I kept all the newspapers of the incident. “Why would anyone want that trash?” Guess what, Derrick, it happens that I’ve found a use for them. Second, a drip of blood. It didn’t specify species, so I went for a drip from the pork chops I was going to have for dinner. Lastly… peppermint oil. Guess the obsession made somewhat sense now. I lighted the strongly scented picture on fire, opened the windows to get rid of the smell, cooked my pork chops and went to bed. It all went from bad to worse from there.
\- “… but I love you!” He moaned. “Why would you do this to me!”
\- “Dude, you killed my mom” I couldn’t believe I actually had to explain this.
\- “Well of course I did… I told her that I wanted you, but that stupid woman didn’t understand me. She said I was a pedophile, she was going to take you away from me!”
\- “Dude, I’m twenty, you’re forty!”
\- “I’m actually forty-seven, thanks for the compliment, my love.”
\- “You realize you’re making it worse, right?” I tried to say something else, but my chest became incredibly painful. Now it wasn’t only my liver, but my lungs were betraying me as well. Between all of the pain, I had a brilliant idea. “Do you want me to live?” I asked.
\- “More than anything on this world.”
\- “The spell is getting rid of the thing you love the most in this life. You cannot love things when you’re dead.”
I thought that my comment would make him realize that the thing he loved the most was himself. I wasn’t expecting him to nod soberly and open the window. I wasn’t expecting him to climb that window. I definitely wasn’t expecting him to say “Off I goooooo…” as he fell. After a couple of seconds, breathing became easier.
​
I wrote this as an English practice so any grammar corrections will be greatly appreciated. Thanks for such a cool prompt!
​ | When I began to feel the symptoms, I was sure I cast the spell on myself by accident. It doesn't happen often, but it does happen with the more complex spells that require a lot more preparation. Fever, dizziness, headache, terrible runny nose that is somehow stuffed at the same time (i wish there was a spell for that), and lots of sneezing. Its satisfying at first, but the raw throat makes it a million times worse.
Despite my oncoming illness, I got out of bed and went over the list of items needed:
One (1) ear of corn
One (1) cup of kidney beans
Two (2) fucks (I had to replace them with aggravated eye-rolls)
One (1) Swan feath-
"What?" I lifted the list closer to my face and read the line again, then held it away from my face and read it again. "Hold on, that cant be right..." I put my glasses on, I took them off, I summoned my familiar to read it aloud to me, but every time it said the same thing: One (1) Swan feather.
Turns out I used pigeon feather instead. I dont know how I mixed those two up, but I did and there's two things I know for certain: 1.) I need to get the hell out of New York. I dont know why I chose to live in a place infested with the things I'm most allergic to, and 2.) His pet pigeon will probably die in the next few days. Whoops. | |
[WP]: You hate this one guy in particular. You also know witchcraft. So you cast a curse to slowly destroy the thing he loves the most. As time passes on, you find that nothing has changed, but you are starting to get sick. | She was a killer. A threat. A menace.
How dare he? How dare he wrestle her into submission, forcing her body into traps that kept her still. She cried as she was stolen away from her family, her people, her kind. What would they do without her? She was a necessity. The patience she possessed. An adept hunter and fighter... and in the deep darkness of night, she could create curses calling cruel spirits to her to obey whatever her demands may be.
She knew her captor was aware of her abilities. Because of it, she was granted special freedoms. Instead of being instantly murdered, as she witnessed happen to others, she was kept in his very own home and kept healthy.
She was curious as to why he hurt so many; one day she wandered over and saw him chewing on the flesh he had stripped and cooked himself. As the curious shock became apparent on her face he left his horrific meal and shoved her into a room where she couldn't see him eat.
Although sparing her life, his abuse towards her was still strong. His elaborate meals were not shared and she ate what gruel he dumped out for her. She was his plaything. He would touch her. Trying to stay alive, she would allow it. It was almost as if he was trying to foster... a relationship. Stroking the side of her face, his hand would move down her back - that was enough. She ran off, and he heaved a frustrated sigh.
It was only a few months after her capture that she could finally escape. The door to his home, now her hell, had been left slightly ajar. She crept up and silently, swiftly, pulled the door just open enough to sprint away. Her bounds were interrupted by his yell coming from behind her.
Ahead of her was the road to freedom. To the right was a dead worm, dried in the sunlight. She decided to turn right, deftly swiping up the worm, recalling the chants needed to use the spell she was considering. But her moment of hesitation had harmed her chances of escape, and she cowered under his shadow as his arms wrapped tightly around her body. She would have cried out for help, but the dead worm was safely kept in her mouth where her captor wouldn't see it.
That night she worked as he slept. Carefully crushing the worm while murmuring in a hushed tone, she cursed her captor. He would wake the next morning and witness one of his loved ones suffer. She quietly trodded back into the bed they shared and she slept. Throughout the night, her stomach twinged. It felt as if waves were crashing.
He awoke in a terror. She watched, eyes bleary and pained, then let out a moan. A phone call - could this be him getting the bad news she had cursed him with? She was excited - then she vomited. His disgust turned to worry as he quickly called a different subject, and the last words she heard as her vision went black were, "Is your vet's office open? I think my cat is sick." | When I began to feel the symptoms, I was sure I cast the spell on myself by accident. It doesn't happen often, but it does happen with the more complex spells that require a lot more preparation. Fever, dizziness, headache, terrible runny nose that is somehow stuffed at the same time (i wish there was a spell for that), and lots of sneezing. Its satisfying at first, but the raw throat makes it a million times worse.
Despite my oncoming illness, I got out of bed and went over the list of items needed:
One (1) ear of corn
One (1) cup of kidney beans
Two (2) fucks (I had to replace them with aggravated eye-rolls)
One (1) Swan feath-
"What?" I lifted the list closer to my face and read the line again, then held it away from my face and read it again. "Hold on, that cant be right..." I put my glasses on, I took them off, I summoned my familiar to read it aloud to me, but every time it said the same thing: One (1) Swan feather.
Turns out I used pigeon feather instead. I dont know how I mixed those two up, but I did and there's two things I know for certain: 1.) I need to get the hell out of New York. I dont know why I chose to live in a place infested with the things I'm most allergic to, and 2.) His pet pigeon will probably die in the next few days. Whoops. | |
[WP]: You hate this one guy in particular. You also know witchcraft. So you cast a curse to slowly destroy the thing he loves the most. As time passes on, you find that nothing has changed, but you are starting to get sick. | She was the love of my life, my muse, my reason for existence. Though we barely exchanged words i felt a deep connection the moment we looked into each others eyes. It had to have been meant to be. I knew i had to act soon so no one else could steal her away and she could finally become mine. Her vibrant yellow hair, beautiful tan skin, and lovely inviting energy was enough to send any damn sicko in a 90-meter radius nuts.
Luckily for her i wouldn't let this happen. She was going to be my bride, we were going to grow old together and feed the ducks at the local pond while watching our grandchildren play near by. It was going to be perfect. How could any damn sicko live up to the perfect, affectionate, and caring husband i was gonna be? Exactly they couldn't, which is exactly why i needed to confess my love right away...
It was a fateful thursday morning, i had gotten up pretty early in anticipation of this event. I had took a shower, brushed my teeth rehearsed some lines to win her over, and as a nice touch to my already amazing appearance i drenched myself in AXE body spray, i had this in the bag! I got to school especially early that morning, from a little studying i noticed that she arrives fairly early to chat with her friends then at about 7:56AM goes to her first period class, human geography. I'd catch her in between her walk to her class and win her over. Simple as that, but as the clock grew closer and i made my approach something deeply unsettling happened.
This fucking barbarian of a man swoops up and snatches her like some kind of animal! Then puts his dirty, filthy lips on her warm, gentle skin. I almost couldn't believe what happened. I left early that day devastated. Lost and confused i wondered what kind of life i could have now that my reason for existence was taken from me. I wondered and wondered, took a nap, and eventually went out on a walk. Looking at all the people, lovely families, children. I came across this old couple feeding some pigeons.. It was at this moment i realized i had to fight for my dream to happen.
She was going to be mine no objections. I wondered where i could find such information as to how she could be mine, how i can undo that horrid spell that fucking barbarian unleashed upon her. Then i remembered the internet existed. I looked up "how to make a girl fall in love with you" nothing particularly useful initially popped up, but as i scrolled and scrolled i found something pretty interesting. "Witchcraft 101: how to cast a powerful love spell to get that special someone interested. Bingo. I found it!
I anxiously ran home oh so eagerly to try it out. According to the forum post all i needed was a pencil and a sheet of paper, i'd write my desire out and make a symbol based of of that. To charge it i'd need an offering "blood"? not about that life. "Semen"? This i can do. The forum post said all i need to do was unleash my load on the sheet of paper where my symbol was, but my love for her was too great, my desires too strong i could do much better. So i poked a hole in the paper and FUCKED THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF IT. If this had been a girl i would've been arrested for manslaughter by now. Anyways, you can imagine what my wish was " make that fucking behemoth get off my sweet little princess and into some other slut's pants, also make that little princess head over heels in love with me."
i was so confident in my magical prowess, i took a sip of strawberry cola and a good night's sleep in celebration. I was happy, and why wouldn't i? The next day i would see their relationship fall apart, and ours beginning. I was once again eager, abd hopeful. Everything's gonna be alright. I went to school the next day and saw them embrace once again, it hurt but i guess it'll take time to work. as the next day came however, the same thing happened. More days past, more weeks, and even months. I lost all confidence in the magic. My life was falling apart.. my car broke down, my grades plummeted and my grandmother died early this week. Things were obviously not going my way. In an attempt to fight against my pain, i developed a junk food addiction. There was a restaurant i was particularly fond of, dominos, my favourite dish was the thin slice box which tasted of both shame and heaven. I would go every friday with whatever money i had left. On my way this one particular day, i saw something that stopped me dead in my tracks.
The brute once again with her... They were embracing, from what i saw he had gotten her roses, and opened the car door for her, they were both smiling. In that moment i realized he makes her happy, way more happy then i could have ever made her. I made my way home rather quickly that day, i didn't even get any food. I guess i just lost my appetite.
A few weeks past since this event, i dropped out of school. My mother wants me to find another job but i haven't go the motivation. Lately I've been feeling very sick. These past few days have just been a series of waking up, eating whatever i have to, then falling back asleep. I never have many thoughts any more. To think i wanted to be a lawyer, guess all those AP classes really just were a waste huh.
My mom left tonight, so I'm the only one in the house, she's going out with her friends, probably to bitch about how shitty a son i turned out to be. That's okay though, when i have alone time i tend to make the best of it. I think I'll just go on a long drive to clear my mind. I walked into the garage, stepped into my vehicle, turned the AC on and prepared to take off. I couldn't help thinking about the girl though, never learned her name, and the brute. I hope they live a happy life together.
I feel very tired, a long drive sounded nice, and it's the perfect timing too, dark and rainy, perfect to think about things.
But i think I'll just close my eyes for a bit. | AN IRONIC TALE
by STEVEBLAKE5
Hatred. One of the strongest emotions a man can feel. The total absence of love... unfathomable. And yet, I felt it.... and what's worse, I felt it towards another man. One of my own species. Who could inspire such a feeling? Adolf Hitler himself? Perhaps, but no..... this was just an ordinary man. A man no different from you or I.
Why, then, this hate? Who can say? Who knows what dwells in a man's heart. And yet, I had to destroy him. Fascinatingly, I knew witchcraft, and no more than a simple spell would do the job. I cast an awful curse - that which would slowly destroy the thing he loves most. Little did I know, that would be my downfall.
Love.... a funny word. The opposite of hate. What is it a man loves most? A wife? His only son? Perhaps. And yet, I found myself being destroyed. As it turned out, I, who hated him, was that which he loved most of all. How ironic, I thought, as I slipped into the black abyss of death. As the life fled from my body, I chuckled to myself - what an ironic tale. Yes, how ironic indeed...... | |
[WP]: You hate this one guy in particular. You also know witchcraft. So you cast a curse to slowly destroy the thing he loves the most. As time passes on, you find that nothing has changed, but you are starting to get sick. | There I was, lying on a hospital bed. And there were him, looking at me with his insane eyes.
After trying everything, every logical solution, trying this wasn’t going to hurt me, right? This book had been part of my family heritage for centuries. My mother praised it, but she also praised essential oils, so I guess that my skepticism was well founded. I believed in science, and everyone can test witchcraft in desperate situations, but oils? Mom, come on.
I started with the recipe. First, a picture. I cut out his photo out of a newspaper. My best friend thought I was nuts when he saw I kept all the newspapers of the incident. “Why would anyone want that trash?” Guess what, Derrick, it happens that I’ve found a use for them. Second, a drip of blood. It didn’t specify species, so I went for a drip from the pork chops I was going to have for dinner. Lastly… peppermint oil. Guess the obsession made somewhat sense now. I lighted the strongly scented picture on fire, opened the windows to get rid of the smell, cooked my pork chops and went to bed. It all went from bad to worse from there.
\- “… but I love you!” He moaned. “Why would you do this to me!”
\- “Dude, you killed my mom” I couldn’t believe I actually had to explain this.
\- “Well of course I did… I told her that I wanted you, but that stupid woman didn’t understand me. She said I was a pedophile, she was going to take you away from me!”
\- “Dude, I’m twenty, you’re forty!”
\- “I’m actually forty-seven, thanks for the compliment, my love.”
\- “You realize you’re making it worse, right?” I tried to say something else, but my chest became incredibly painful. Now it wasn’t only my liver, but my lungs were betraying me as well. Between all of the pain, I had a brilliant idea. “Do you want me to live?” I asked.
\- “More than anything on this world.”
\- “The spell is getting rid of the thing you love the most in this life. You cannot love things when you’re dead.”
I thought that my comment would make him realize that the thing he loved the most was himself. I wasn’t expecting him to nod soberly and open the window. I wasn’t expecting him to climb that window. I definitely wasn’t expecting him to say “Off I goooooo…” as he fell. After a couple of seconds, breathing became easier.
​
I wrote this as an English practice so any grammar corrections will be greatly appreciated. Thanks for such a cool prompt!
​ | AN IRONIC TALE
by STEVEBLAKE5
Hatred. One of the strongest emotions a man can feel. The total absence of love... unfathomable. And yet, I felt it.... and what's worse, I felt it towards another man. One of my own species. Who could inspire such a feeling? Adolf Hitler himself? Perhaps, but no..... this was just an ordinary man. A man no different from you or I.
Why, then, this hate? Who can say? Who knows what dwells in a man's heart. And yet, I had to destroy him. Fascinatingly, I knew witchcraft, and no more than a simple spell would do the job. I cast an awful curse - that which would slowly destroy the thing he loves most. Little did I know, that would be my downfall.
Love.... a funny word. The opposite of hate. What is it a man loves most? A wife? His only son? Perhaps. And yet, I found myself being destroyed. As it turned out, I, who hated him, was that which he loved most of all. How ironic, I thought, as I slipped into the black abyss of death. As the life fled from my body, I chuckled to myself - what an ironic tale. Yes, how ironic indeed...... | |
[WP]: You hate this one guy in particular. You also know witchcraft. So you cast a curse to slowly destroy the thing he loves the most. As time passes on, you find that nothing has changed, but you are starting to get sick. | She was a killer. A threat. A menace.
How dare he? How dare he wrestle her into submission, forcing her body into traps that kept her still. She cried as she was stolen away from her family, her people, her kind. What would they do without her? She was a necessity. The patience she possessed. An adept hunter and fighter... and in the deep darkness of night, she could create curses calling cruel spirits to her to obey whatever her demands may be.
She knew her captor was aware of her abilities. Because of it, she was granted special freedoms. Instead of being instantly murdered, as she witnessed happen to others, she was kept in his very own home and kept healthy.
She was curious as to why he hurt so many; one day she wandered over and saw him chewing on the flesh he had stripped and cooked himself. As the curious shock became apparent on her face he left his horrific meal and shoved her into a room where she couldn't see him eat.
Although sparing her life, his abuse towards her was still strong. His elaborate meals were not shared and she ate what gruel he dumped out for her. She was his plaything. He would touch her. Trying to stay alive, she would allow it. It was almost as if he was trying to foster... a relationship. Stroking the side of her face, his hand would move down her back - that was enough. She ran off, and he heaved a frustrated sigh.
It was only a few months after her capture that she could finally escape. The door to his home, now her hell, had been left slightly ajar. She crept up and silently, swiftly, pulled the door just open enough to sprint away. Her bounds were interrupted by his yell coming from behind her.
Ahead of her was the road to freedom. To the right was a dead worm, dried in the sunlight. She decided to turn right, deftly swiping up the worm, recalling the chants needed to use the spell she was considering. But her moment of hesitation had harmed her chances of escape, and she cowered under his shadow as his arms wrapped tightly around her body. She would have cried out for help, but the dead worm was safely kept in her mouth where her captor wouldn't see it.
That night she worked as he slept. Carefully crushing the worm while murmuring in a hushed tone, she cursed her captor. He would wake the next morning and witness one of his loved ones suffer. She quietly trodded back into the bed they shared and she slept. Throughout the night, her stomach twinged. It felt as if waves were crashing.
He awoke in a terror. She watched, eyes bleary and pained, then let out a moan. A phone call - could this be him getting the bad news she had cursed him with? She was excited - then she vomited. His disgust turned to worry as he quickly called a different subject, and the last words she heard as her vision went black were, "Is your vet's office open? I think my cat is sick." | AN IRONIC TALE
by STEVEBLAKE5
Hatred. One of the strongest emotions a man can feel. The total absence of love... unfathomable. And yet, I felt it.... and what's worse, I felt it towards another man. One of my own species. Who could inspire such a feeling? Adolf Hitler himself? Perhaps, but no..... this was just an ordinary man. A man no different from you or I.
Why, then, this hate? Who can say? Who knows what dwells in a man's heart. And yet, I had to destroy him. Fascinatingly, I knew witchcraft, and no more than a simple spell would do the job. I cast an awful curse - that which would slowly destroy the thing he loves most. Little did I know, that would be my downfall.
Love.... a funny word. The opposite of hate. What is it a man loves most? A wife? His only son? Perhaps. And yet, I found myself being destroyed. As it turned out, I, who hated him, was that which he loved most of all. How ironic, I thought, as I slipped into the black abyss of death. As the life fled from my body, I chuckled to myself - what an ironic tale. Yes, how ironic indeed...... | |
[WP]: You hate this one guy in particular. You also know witchcraft. So you cast a curse to slowly destroy the thing he loves the most. As time passes on, you find that nothing has changed, but you are starting to get sick. | It's been a long time since I wrote anything and it's my first writing prompt, but I found the scenario really cool! Feedback and critiques welcome.Edit: Catching writing errors
\-------------------------
The full moon hung low in the sky as I trudged my way up the path, mud beneath my boots. The cold night breeze caressed my hair, and I felt tingling along my skin as invisible presences drew close, only to retreat, as if I was a curiosity, quickly sated.
I felt it before I saw it. A mound, at the foot of a cluster of old beech trees, looking otherwise like an ordinary patch of foliage and undergrowth on slightly raised soil. My hair stood on end as I entered the centre of the mount, heart pounding.
I knelt, slowly, deliberately, lifting a black bag from the folds of my cloak, the bells on my wrist rustling gently with the movement. I reached into the bag, fingers closing around the handle of my magic dagger, brought it to my eyes, inscribed runes glinting in the moonlight.
The dagger never returns into the bag until its work is finished.
I drew out a picture of a young man from the bag. Brandon. A brown haired boy in a basketball uniform, wearing glasses, the flash of the camera glistening on his sweaty smile. A wave of anger rushed through me at the sight. I set the picture down on the floor, and, dipping my knife into red pigment, cut the strokes of a rune across the picture in swift, rehearsed strokes. It was as if all the hatred in me had been gathered from every nerve and every cell of my body and condensed into the very tip of the knife, slicing white hot into this man; this monster. Memories of my brother flashed through my head. My innocent brother, with his whole life ahead of him. That fateful night this man took him from the house, I had a sinking feeling in my stomach that I didn’t heed. I remembered the cold body of my brother lying in the hospital as they told me he died of a drug overdose- and I knew who gave it to him. He never apologized.
I held my dagger with a trembling hand as I completed the rune, my breaths haggard. Placing the dagger back into the bag, I struck a match. Its flames licked at the picture, and I watched it dissolve into ashes, its specks carried away by the wind. I shook my wrist, ringing the bells.
I wanted him to know what it was like to lose what he loved the most.
​
\---------------------------------
I woke up feeling like I couldn’t breathe. A coughing fit came over me, and I caught something liquid in my hand. Blindly grasping in the darkness, I flipped the switch of my bedside lamp, looking down at myself.
Blood. Bright red, over my sheets, on my hand. I stared at it for a long time as I caught my breath. My eyes immediately darted to the talismans hanging around my bed. The entire room was bristling with wards and protections. They’d not been disturbed.
I wiped my hand on the bloodstained cloth I had next to the bed, fumbling with the drawer as I reached for my pills, downing it quickly with the glass of water I had already prepared. Tuberculosis, the doctors said. And yet they found no signs of the bacteria. My lungs were haemorrhaging, and nobody knew why. They gave me medicine to try to stop the bleeding, but nothing was working.
Nothing would work. I knew what could make that happen.
As the sun rose, I showered and dressed, feeling extraordinarily lightheaded. I could barely stand on the train. My head was spinning and my mind raced.
I’ve already exhausted all the rituals I knew to counter curses, and I was running out of options.
As the doors opened, I briefly considered not leaving, death weighing heavily on my mind, but somehow, I summoned the strength to walk out, all the way to class.
If Brandon was a wizard, he did an exceedingly good job hiding it. I watched the brown haired boy from the picture stride confidently into the classroom with his friends. No hair stood up on my arm as he walked past me. No signs of any wards or talismans as he unzipped his bags to take his books out. Nothing seemed to have changed for him. He was still his usual, jovial self, a sight that caused me such fury.
I began to fear. Perhaps, he was a wizard of such unimaginable power that I couldn’t hope to curse him, and he’d placed one on me that couldn’t be stopped.
I immediately started coughing again, taking out my cloth to catch the blood, tried to cover it with my hands.
‘Clare, are you alright?’
I knew whose voice it was. I felt his hand on my shoulder.
‘I’m fine,’ I said, turning away.
‘I saw that- you’re coughing blood!’
‘I said I’m…’
A profound wave of dizziness suddenly took over me, and then I was on the ground, faces looming over me. I was in someone’s arms- Brandon’s.
‘Someone call the ambulance!’ He cried. My eyes widened in rage, and I weakly tried to push him away.
‘Fuck off… You… You did this…’ I said, feeling my head spin.
But even as the words left my mouth, I saw the terror on his face, the desperation in his voice, and I doubted.
‘Stay with me!’ He said.
And then there was nothing.
​
\--------------------------------------------------
​
I woke up with a start, in a room I didn’t know. I realized there was a mask over my face.
‘You’re finally awake,’ I heard someone say. A rustling of clothing, footsteps drawing near.
I knew that voice.
‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ I said acidly, turning to look at Brandon as he sat next to my bed. I realized that I was in a hospital ward. My heart sank as I thought about having to pay for all of that.
‘You’ve got no family here. Someone had to come.’
‘I wonder why.’
Brandon was silent. The air hung thick with the silence, and I saw something in his eyes change.
‘I know,’ he said quietly.
‘I don’t know what you did, but I’m dying. As you probably… wanted,’ I said, coughing.
‘What do you mean, “as I probably wanted”? I… I…’
‘Just admit it. This isn’t tuberculosis. This… This is…’
‘What are you saying, Clare? You’re not making any sense.’
‘You killed my brother. And now you’re coming for me. You must be pretty thrilled to see me dying.’
His voice was trembling. ‘How could you say that? You have no idea what happened there between me and your brother! He was my friend! I tried to tell him. I tried to stop him! But he insisted… Said he knew what he was doing… and then he… I…’
Brandon broke down, head in his heads. Then, gathering himself, he looked me in the eye.
‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry, for all the pain it must have caused you. I was stupid. Every single day, I wish I was the one who died.’
His words shocked me into silence.
‘I know you hate me. And I deserve all of that. But I don’t hate you. You know…’
I reeled mentally as I realized the enormity of what I’d done. Brandon never apologized not because he was a monster. He was just a coward, nothing more than a stupid teenager-
‘I… I love you, Clare. It hurts me so much to see you like this,’ he finished. He rubbed at an eye. ‘I want you to know that in case you… You…’
I was the monster. I did this.
The air was pregnant with unspoken words. He sat still, not daring to move.
I laughed. Laughed bitterly. Of course none of the protections worked. Of course I couldn't tell who cast the curse. *Of course*... Brandon looked up and stared at me, eyes wide in horror and confusion.
I’d have to go back to the forest. Back to the mound. Unmake the rune I made there. I couldn’t do it. But Brandon… Maybe...
I laughed- at myself, at Brandon, at everything. I am a fool.
‘Hey, Brandon,’ I whispered. ‘Tell you a secret…’ | AN IRONIC TALE
by STEVEBLAKE5
Hatred. One of the strongest emotions a man can feel. The total absence of love... unfathomable. And yet, I felt it.... and what's worse, I felt it towards another man. One of my own species. Who could inspire such a feeling? Adolf Hitler himself? Perhaps, but no..... this was just an ordinary man. A man no different from you or I.
Why, then, this hate? Who can say? Who knows what dwells in a man's heart. And yet, I had to destroy him. Fascinatingly, I knew witchcraft, and no more than a simple spell would do the job. I cast an awful curse - that which would slowly destroy the thing he loves most. Little did I know, that would be my downfall.
Love.... a funny word. The opposite of hate. What is it a man loves most? A wife? His only son? Perhaps. And yet, I found myself being destroyed. As it turned out, I, who hated him, was that which he loved most of all. How ironic, I thought, as I slipped into the black abyss of death. As the life fled from my body, I chuckled to myself - what an ironic tale. Yes, how ironic indeed...... | |
[WP]: You hate this one guy in particular. You also know witchcraft. So you cast a curse to slowly destroy the thing he loves the most. As time passes on, you find that nothing has changed, but you are starting to get sick. | It couldn't have backfired. No, there was no way. I was too adept, too well versed. I'd gone over the ritual again and again before casting the spell. I knew far too well how easily these things could go wrong and I'd taken every precaution to ensure that wouldn't happen. Still, I had found myself growing weaker and weaker without cause.
I usually never evoked the use of such dark magics. I'd never hurt anyone else in my life, magically or otherwise, but this man... No. This *monster* was a special case. I'd known him for years and the more I found out, the more I knew something had to be done.
To the outside world, Dr. Everett Baxter was a prominent cardiovascular surgeon and one of the best in the country, with such a carefully crafted backstory. When his young daughter mysteriously got sick and eventually succumbed to her illness, his wife supposedly took her own life, unable to bear the grief. I had been one of the doctors trying to treat little Emma and the case had certainly baffled all of us. There was no scientific reason she should have been ill. Even the autopsy had shown a perfectly healthy little girl. As for his wife, Maria, her death had been ruled a suicide, but nothing about it seemed consistent for me, but it had been for the insurance company. Dr. Baxter had an evil aura around him. I could sense it. It was more malevolent than anything I'd ever encountered. And I knew somehow he'd killed them both.
So after a while, I'd done it. I cast the spell to take away the thing he loved most. I had been so certain it would be himself. He wasn't capable of loving anything else.
"Dr. Reynolds, " He addressed me in the hall one afternoon. I knew I was looking worse for wear and probably shouldn't have been at work at all, but I couldn't bring myself to go home. "Do you have a moment we could speak in my office?"
My body was aching and every bone in my body was screaming at me to stay away from him, but curiosity had me. He had no business being on this floor, so he must have sought me out. I gave a nod and followed him to his office.
"Dr. Baxter," I began once we were inside, but he held up a hand to stop me.
"Let's skip all the formalities and pretense, shall we, Jenna? I'd surmise you don't have long left. Perhaps a day, maybe two? It would be a pity for you to die without understanding why," He stated, looking satisfied with the shock coursing through me. "I think we both know and have for some time now what one another really are. And I've figured out what you've done. I have to hand it to you. It was incredibly clever," He said, moving unbearably close as he circled me like a lion circling its prey. He leaned in behind me, his hot breath hitting my neck as he whispered to me. "That's one of the reasons I love you so much."
---
Thanks for reading! For more prompt fills and stories, visit /r/AgentPeggyCarter | AN IRONIC TALE
by STEVEBLAKE5
Hatred. One of the strongest emotions a man can feel. The total absence of love... unfathomable. And yet, I felt it.... and what's worse, I felt it towards another man. One of my own species. Who could inspire such a feeling? Adolf Hitler himself? Perhaps, but no..... this was just an ordinary man. A man no different from you or I.
Why, then, this hate? Who can say? Who knows what dwells in a man's heart. And yet, I had to destroy him. Fascinatingly, I knew witchcraft, and no more than a simple spell would do the job. I cast an awful curse - that which would slowly destroy the thing he loves most. Little did I know, that would be my downfall.
Love.... a funny word. The opposite of hate. What is it a man loves most? A wife? His only son? Perhaps. And yet, I found myself being destroyed. As it turned out, I, who hated him, was that which he loved most of all. How ironic, I thought, as I slipped into the black abyss of death. As the life fled from my body, I chuckled to myself - what an ironic tale. Yes, how ironic indeed...... | |
[WP]: You hate this one guy in particular. You also know witchcraft. So you cast a curse to slowly destroy the thing he loves the most. As time passes on, you find that nothing has changed, but you are starting to get sick. | I paused in my journal as a large drop of blood fell dramatically from my nose to land on the center of the adjacent page, turning it into something that resembled the flag of Japan. Briefly, I considered leaving it there. A monument, of sorts.
I imagined him reading this after I was gone, and seeing my deterioration in the pages as it went along. Imagined him realizing, as I did, what my selfish thoughts and careless magik had wrought. Hot tears charged down my face and leaped towards the page, mingling with the drop of blood to become some type of morbid splatter art.
A memory came to me, unbidden, of playing ball as a child. The ball hit a bump, popped up and caught me in the nose. It bled and I cried then, too. Mom had been a 'there, there honey, let's get you cleaned up' type of mother. So expressive with her love. Later, when Dad found out about it, he'd taken a much more Jimmy Dougan stance.
He'd missed the game, of course. Missed most of them. Missed some of my birthdays. My graduation. Important clients, important business trips, important job.
If he had at one point just told me how important I was, then maybe...
After the tears stopped again, I continued writing. I needed him to know, when he read this, that I didn't mean to hurt him. I didn't want him to suffer. I didn't know how to talk to him, and I realize now he didn't know how to talk to me.
I need him to know that I love him as much as he loves me, and not his job, and I had just wanted time with my dad. | AN IRONIC TALE
by STEVEBLAKE5
Hatred. One of the strongest emotions a man can feel. The total absence of love... unfathomable. And yet, I felt it.... and what's worse, I felt it towards another man. One of my own species. Who could inspire such a feeling? Adolf Hitler himself? Perhaps, but no..... this was just an ordinary man. A man no different from you or I.
Why, then, this hate? Who can say? Who knows what dwells in a man's heart. And yet, I had to destroy him. Fascinatingly, I knew witchcraft, and no more than a simple spell would do the job. I cast an awful curse - that which would slowly destroy the thing he loves most. Little did I know, that would be my downfall.
Love.... a funny word. The opposite of hate. What is it a man loves most? A wife? His only son? Perhaps. And yet, I found myself being destroyed. As it turned out, I, who hated him, was that which he loved most of all. How ironic, I thought, as I slipped into the black abyss of death. As the life fled from my body, I chuckled to myself - what an ironic tale. Yes, how ironic indeed...... | |
[WP]: You hate this one guy in particular. You also know witchcraft. So you cast a curse to slowly destroy the thing he loves the most. As time passes on, you find that nothing has changed, but you are starting to get sick. | "It backfired," I told Marie, glaring daggers at her. This was all her fault. I was fine to just continue being quietly passive-aggressive with Tom for the next two years until my contract was done and I could move over to the mountains and become some small town's crazy hermit witch. It was even occasionally entertaining. But no, she had to get all up-in-arms about what he said about me being 'frightening', and she had to egg me on after one of our fights, and she had to give me the stupid fucking spell book.
"What, how?" She asked, looking at my condition. Black vein-like lines had begun making their way from the tips of my digits to the rest of my body. It started off slow, but a couple of days in and it hurt every time I tried to move my hands or my feet, both of which were mostly covered in black at this point. "You did it perfectly. You were amazing! We were gonna show him--"
"I don't know how, but unless you figure something out--"
"Okay, okay, let's think. Did you cast it on you? Are you the thing you love most?"
I frowned. "No...? You saw me cast it."
"Okay, how about--"
Tom entered the staff room. "Well what are you two little foxes doing today?"
"Nothing, Sam and I--" Marie started, but I silenced her with a glare.
"We messed up a curse--one that was a lot stronger than it was supposed to be," I added, looking at Marie, "--and now some black magic is eating me alive."
He rolled his eyes. "Ha ha, very funny, 'let's all show the black magic guy how scary his research area is'. You know, if you're going to come up with a prank--"
I showed him my hands and he fell silent.
"Now, Tom, you know it is not like me to ask for your help--especially since this curse was directed at you--but if you could point me to the right resources on the topic of black magic..."
He paled.
"Oh, so it's worse than I thought." I went on, "Marie, can you get the book? I'm sure there's a clause in it somewhere that--"
"Kiss me," he said, barely above a whisper.
"Excuse me?"
"Kiss me! It's--if you want to live you need to kiss me," he said, suddenly desperate.
"What, is it dispelled by disgust?" Marie asked. I moved to rub my temples but my hands hurt too much.
"It's powered by love. Isn't it?" he asked, not expecting us to answer. "It's powered by love. I know this curse. I can overpower it, but it requires an intimate act. Now, unless you want to strip naked so we can do it here and now, I think a kiss is the best option."
"Fine," I said, "Prepare the spell."
He nodded, and I saw him cast white magic for the first time since I met him. It was mesmerizing, as he clothed his right hand in light. He slowly moved his fingers towards my chin, then held it softly.
"Ready?" he asked.
I nodded, and he kissed me.
A cool, white light came over me, and the painful black lines vanished from my skin.
I pulled away after a moment. "Thank you, Tom."
"I... yes. I--I mean, you--it--Anytime. I mean, not anytime, you shouldn't be doing that--why would you do that--I don't mean to be accusatory, I--it just--you scared me."
I squinted at him. "...What?"
"Nothing--I'm--you didn't--I'm not trying to--" he stammered some more and I stared at him until he shut his mouth and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I have to go."
"Tom, did I cast that spell right?" I asked, as he turned to leave.
"What?"
"Did I cast it right?" I asked, "I have been working under the assumption that I failed to cast it right, and that is why it affected me."
"I..." he moved his mouth in some vague shapes, but no sound came out of it.
"If I have failed at casting a spell of that magnitude, I should book an appointment with the Magical Performance Council, so that I may have my license placed in probation until such a time as I can--"
"Yes! It was fine! You are incapable of casting a spell wrong--do you have to torture me?"
I raised an eyebrow. "Look, how you feel is your business, I was just asking because--"
"You know. You have to know. How can you not know?" he asked, indignantly. "You're the most beautiful, most talented, most brilliant person to ever walk these halls--you don't have to lord it over me, and you don't have to mock me when I--when I..."
I chuckled. "I am not--"
"Yes you are! How can you possibly not see it?"
I choked out a laugh, "You realize that Merlin himself--"
"Okay, so maybe not the most, but--still!"
"You publish more than I do."
"Because you make me!"
To this I had no reply. I noticed Marie trying to leave the room discreetly. The silence dragged on for a moment. He looked at me, then looked everywhere but me, then sighed.
His voice was quiet when he said "I want to be good enough for you."
The next words came out of my mouth almost without my permission. "You're good enough right now, you don't need to..." I trailed off as I realized what I had said. He paused, and looked at me for a long moment. Then he spoke.
"Are you free for dinner tomorrow?" | AN IRONIC TALE
by STEVEBLAKE5
Hatred. One of the strongest emotions a man can feel. The total absence of love... unfathomable. And yet, I felt it.... and what's worse, I felt it towards another man. One of my own species. Who could inspire such a feeling? Adolf Hitler himself? Perhaps, but no..... this was just an ordinary man. A man no different from you or I.
Why, then, this hate? Who can say? Who knows what dwells in a man's heart. And yet, I had to destroy him. Fascinatingly, I knew witchcraft, and no more than a simple spell would do the job. I cast an awful curse - that which would slowly destroy the thing he loves most. Little did I know, that would be my downfall.
Love.... a funny word. The opposite of hate. What is it a man loves most? A wife? His only son? Perhaps. And yet, I found myself being destroyed. As it turned out, I, who hated him, was that which he loved most of all. How ironic, I thought, as I slipped into the black abyss of death. As the life fled from my body, I chuckled to myself - what an ironic tale. Yes, how ironic indeed...... | |
[WP]: You hate this one guy in particular. You also know witchcraft. So you cast a curse to slowly destroy the thing he loves the most. As time passes on, you find that nothing has changed, but you are starting to get sick. | College students spilled out into the quad, Miranda Bates being among them. She slowed as she passed by the tall oak tree shadowing over the alchemist building. Her attention fixed, watching someone she loathed – his name, Anthony Parker.
“Great spell you casted!” mocked Miranda’s best friend, Fiona, coming up from behind. Fiona was a tall, sharp looking individual. Everyone would turn to notice her because of her dark clothing that showcased her rare vibrant ruby hair. Her hair was a sign of rare magic and was not a common gene among the students. Miranda rolled her eyes in envy watching Anthony Parker play fetch with his dog, Murphy. “Maybe Murphy is immune to spells? Maybe Murphy is a familiar?”
“He’s not a familiar! He’s a dumb, stupid dog just like his owner!” Miranda’s anger sparked a small flame against the bark of the oak tree.
“Careful. We aren’t allowed to use magic in the quad.” Fiona reminded her, holding back her laughter.
“We aren’t really supposed to use magic at all.” Miranda tilted her head, biting down on her lip. She closed her eyes and curled her fist to help calm herself.
“Well,” Fiona smiled, “too bad for the sororities who don’t!” she winked. “When did you cast the spell?”
“Over two weeks ago.” Miranda explained before being interrupted by the cough she'd had all morning.
“You okay?” Fiona asked while taking out a water bottle.
“I’m fine.” Miranda took a sip.
“No, you’re rusty. I watched you cast it. You were trembling as if you were thinking about backing out of it altogether.”
“No, I wasn’t! Anthony and that damn dog deserve it!” Miranda snapped back. She pulled her long charcoal hair back into a bun. She ran her fingers down her thigh feeling the scar Murphy gave her before she had told Anthony she never wanted to see him again.
“Still haven’t gotten rid of the scar?” Fiona took her hand out and placed it over Miranda’s thigh.
“Don’t! That scar will remind me not to feel bad after Murphy’s gone.”
Fiona rolled her eyes before crossing her arms. “Yea, looks like you're succeeding in that department.”
“I don’t understand. The spell was made to look like natural sickness of the thing you love most. I don’t understand why Murphy's still not sick.”
Fiona pondered, resting her fore finger over her lips. “Maybe he doesn’t love Murphy the most?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. He doesn’t care about anything else except that little brat.”
“Well, it’s been fun, but it’s a Friday and I plan to get drunk, so – I’ll catch you later.” Fiona snapped her fingers changing her entire identity into a bright red eagle. She soared over the alchemist building as a professor walked out.
“Fiona! This is your last warning!” The professor dropped his books and ran after her. “Magic is not allowed!”
Anthony threw the stick over Murphy’s head. Murphy instantly turned around to recover the stick beside a group of bushes. Miranda continued watching until her cough came back. She leaned over coughing harder until she was forced to grab hold of the oak for support. Anthony turned his attention onto Miranda.
“What are you looking at? Go back to your beast.” Miranda coughed again. This time, however, she cupped her right palm over her mouth finding blood mixed in her saliva. “What in the?”
Miranda looked up only to find Anthony still staring at her. She quickly glanced over to find Murphy grabbing hold of the stick in his mouth.
“Did someone curse you? You know they will be arrested and put on trial.” Anthony walked up trying to help her between the coughs.
“Get away from me!” She pulled away from him.
“Look, I’m just trying to help. Do you know who would have cursed you?” Miranda glared into Murphy’s eyes who started to walk back with his stick.
“If your dog comes near me,” Miranda threatened. “I swear, I” she was interrupted by Anthony snapping his fingers. Slowly, Murphy turned into a small haze of fog before rolling away with the autumn leaves. Miranda’s eyes widened.
“Why did,” she started but Anthony immediately replied,
“He wasn’t real. Well, I mean, not really.”
“I don’t understand.” Miranda straightened her back before coughing again. “Why did your made-up dog bite me? Why did you waste magic creating a dog?”
“Well, ok the whole biting thing was my fault. I may have messed up the spell a little bit, but oh well.”
“Messed up the spell?” Miranda was confused.
“Yea, Fiona gave me a spell to use for the dog because she told me you had a thing for dogs.”
“Well I did, until yours bit me!” Miranda tried fighting the urge of coughing. “Wait, so Fiona gave you the spell for a dog? How did you mess it up so badly? Aren’t you like the top of your class?”
“Well yea,” Anthony lowered his head. “I was just nervous, I guess, but never-mind all that. We need to find out who cursed you.”
“Wait, why did you care if I was into dogs? Are you into me?” Miranda fell against the tree. Sweat started to run down her brow.
“Seriously, Miranda, you don’t look so good. We need to get you over to healing.”
“Fiona,” Miranda started to whisper before falling onto the ground.
“Miranda! Miranda! Can you hear me?” Anthony grasped her arms. Other students started to crowd around as a couple of Anthony’s classmates helped him pick Miranda off the ground.
Anthony leaned in closer to Miranda while she kept trying to whisper something into his ear. “Fiona gave me the spell to curse you.”
Anthony’s eyes widened in shock. Miranda’s eyes completely closed as her breathing slowed. Students were all whispering to one another as one student in particular stood far behind the crowd leaned up against the History Building. Fiona couldn’t hide her smile. She watched as Anthony held onto Miranda.
“Finally.” Fiona said to herself. “No more competition.”
***
Want to read more? Visit [13th Olympian Stories!](https://www.reddit.com/r/13thOlympian/) | AN IRONIC TALE
by STEVEBLAKE5
Hatred. One of the strongest emotions a man can feel. The total absence of love... unfathomable. And yet, I felt it.... and what's worse, I felt it towards another man. One of my own species. Who could inspire such a feeling? Adolf Hitler himself? Perhaps, but no..... this was just an ordinary man. A man no different from you or I.
Why, then, this hate? Who can say? Who knows what dwells in a man's heart. And yet, I had to destroy him. Fascinatingly, I knew witchcraft, and no more than a simple spell would do the job. I cast an awful curse - that which would slowly destroy the thing he loves most. Little did I know, that would be my downfall.
Love.... a funny word. The opposite of hate. What is it a man loves most? A wife? His only son? Perhaps. And yet, I found myself being destroyed. As it turned out, I, who hated him, was that which he loved most of all. How ironic, I thought, as I slipped into the black abyss of death. As the life fled from my body, I chuckled to myself - what an ironic tale. Yes, how ironic indeed...... | |
[WP]: You hate this one guy in particular. You also know witchcraft. So you cast a curse to slowly destroy the thing he loves the most. As time passes on, you find that nothing has changed, but you are starting to get sick. | There I was, lying on a hospital bed. And there were him, looking at me with his insane eyes.
After trying everything, every logical solution, trying this wasn’t going to hurt me, right? This book had been part of my family heritage for centuries. My mother praised it, but she also praised essential oils, so I guess that my skepticism was well founded. I believed in science, and everyone can test witchcraft in desperate situations, but oils? Mom, come on.
I started with the recipe. First, a picture. I cut out his photo out of a newspaper. My best friend thought I was nuts when he saw I kept all the newspapers of the incident. “Why would anyone want that trash?” Guess what, Derrick, it happens that I’ve found a use for them. Second, a drip of blood. It didn’t specify species, so I went for a drip from the pork chops I was going to have for dinner. Lastly… peppermint oil. Guess the obsession made somewhat sense now. I lighted the strongly scented picture on fire, opened the windows to get rid of the smell, cooked my pork chops and went to bed. It all went from bad to worse from there.
\- “… but I love you!” He moaned. “Why would you do this to me!”
\- “Dude, you killed my mom” I couldn’t believe I actually had to explain this.
\- “Well of course I did… I told her that I wanted you, but that stupid woman didn’t understand me. She said I was a pedophile, she was going to take you away from me!”
\- “Dude, I’m twenty, you’re forty!”
\- “I’m actually forty-seven, thanks for the compliment, my love.”
\- “You realize you’re making it worse, right?” I tried to say something else, but my chest became incredibly painful. Now it wasn’t only my liver, but my lungs were betraying me as well. Between all of the pain, I had a brilliant idea. “Do you want me to live?” I asked.
\- “More than anything on this world.”
\- “The spell is getting rid of the thing you love the most in this life. You cannot love things when you’re dead.”
I thought that my comment would make him realize that the thing he loved the most was himself. I wasn’t expecting him to nod soberly and open the window. I wasn’t expecting him to climb that window. I definitely wasn’t expecting him to say “Off I goooooo…” as he fell. After a couple of seconds, breathing became easier.
​
I wrote this as an English practice so any grammar corrections will be greatly appreciated. Thanks for such a cool prompt!
​ | She was the love of my life, my muse, my reason for existence. Though we barely exchanged words i felt a deep connection the moment we looked into each others eyes. It had to have been meant to be. I knew i had to act soon so no one else could steal her away and she could finally become mine. Her vibrant yellow hair, beautiful tan skin, and lovely inviting energy was enough to send any damn sicko in a 90-meter radius nuts.
Luckily for her i wouldn't let this happen. She was going to be my bride, we were going to grow old together and feed the ducks at the local pond while watching our grandchildren play near by. It was going to be perfect. How could any damn sicko live up to the perfect, affectionate, and caring husband i was gonna be? Exactly they couldn't, which is exactly why i needed to confess my love right away...
It was a fateful thursday morning, i had gotten up pretty early in anticipation of this event. I had took a shower, brushed my teeth rehearsed some lines to win her over, and as a nice touch to my already amazing appearance i drenched myself in AXE body spray, i had this in the bag! I got to school especially early that morning, from a little studying i noticed that she arrives fairly early to chat with her friends then at about 7:56AM goes to her first period class, human geography. I'd catch her in between her walk to her class and win her over. Simple as that, but as the clock grew closer and i made my approach something deeply unsettling happened.
This fucking barbarian of a man swoops up and snatches her like some kind of animal! Then puts his dirty, filthy lips on her warm, gentle skin. I almost couldn't believe what happened. I left early that day devastated. Lost and confused i wondered what kind of life i could have now that my reason for existence was taken from me. I wondered and wondered, took a nap, and eventually went out on a walk. Looking at all the people, lovely families, children. I came across this old couple feeding some pigeons.. It was at this moment i realized i had to fight for my dream to happen.
She was going to be mine no objections. I wondered where i could find such information as to how she could be mine, how i can undo that horrid spell that fucking barbarian unleashed upon her. Then i remembered the internet existed. I looked up "how to make a girl fall in love with you" nothing particularly useful initially popped up, but as i scrolled and scrolled i found something pretty interesting. "Witchcraft 101: how to cast a powerful love spell to get that special someone interested. Bingo. I found it!
I anxiously ran home oh so eagerly to try it out. According to the forum post all i needed was a pencil and a sheet of paper, i'd write my desire out and make a symbol based of of that. To charge it i'd need an offering "blood"? not about that life. "Semen"? This i can do. The forum post said all i need to do was unleash my load on the sheet of paper where my symbol was, but my love for her was too great, my desires too strong i could do much better. So i poked a hole in the paper and FUCKED THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF IT. If this had been a girl i would've been arrested for manslaughter by now. Anyways, you can imagine what my wish was " make that fucking behemoth get off my sweet little princess and into some other slut's pants, also make that little princess head over heels in love with me."
i was so confident in my magical prowess, i took a sip of strawberry cola and a good night's sleep in celebration. I was happy, and why wouldn't i? The next day i would see their relationship fall apart, and ours beginning. I was once again eager, abd hopeful. Everything's gonna be alright. I went to school the next day and saw them embrace once again, it hurt but i guess it'll take time to work. as the next day came however, the same thing happened. More days past, more weeks, and even months. I lost all confidence in the magic. My life was falling apart.. my car broke down, my grades plummeted and my grandmother died early this week. Things were obviously not going my way. In an attempt to fight against my pain, i developed a junk food addiction. There was a restaurant i was particularly fond of, dominos, my favourite dish was the thin slice box which tasted of both shame and heaven. I would go every friday with whatever money i had left. On my way this one particular day, i saw something that stopped me dead in my tracks.
The brute once again with her... They were embracing, from what i saw he had gotten her roses, and opened the car door for her, they were both smiling. In that moment i realized he makes her happy, way more happy then i could have ever made her. I made my way home rather quickly that day, i didn't even get any food. I guess i just lost my appetite.
A few weeks past since this event, i dropped out of school. My mother wants me to find another job but i haven't go the motivation. Lately I've been feeling very sick. These past few days have just been a series of waking up, eating whatever i have to, then falling back asleep. I never have many thoughts any more. To think i wanted to be a lawyer, guess all those AP classes really just were a waste huh.
My mom left tonight, so I'm the only one in the house, she's going out with her friends, probably to bitch about how shitty a son i turned out to be. That's okay though, when i have alone time i tend to make the best of it. I think I'll just go on a long drive to clear my mind. I walked into the garage, stepped into my vehicle, turned the AC on and prepared to take off. I couldn't help thinking about the girl though, never learned her name, and the brute. I hope they live a happy life together.
I feel very tired, a long drive sounded nice, and it's the perfect timing too, dark and rainy, perfect to think about things.
But i think I'll just close my eyes for a bit. | |
[WP]: You hate this one guy in particular. You also know witchcraft. So you cast a curse to slowly destroy the thing he loves the most. As time passes on, you find that nothing has changed, but you are starting to get sick. | She was a killer. A threat. A menace.
How dare he? How dare he wrestle her into submission, forcing her body into traps that kept her still. She cried as she was stolen away from her family, her people, her kind. What would they do without her? She was a necessity. The patience she possessed. An adept hunter and fighter... and in the deep darkness of night, she could create curses calling cruel spirits to her to obey whatever her demands may be.
She knew her captor was aware of her abilities. Because of it, she was granted special freedoms. Instead of being instantly murdered, as she witnessed happen to others, she was kept in his very own home and kept healthy.
She was curious as to why he hurt so many; one day she wandered over and saw him chewing on the flesh he had stripped and cooked himself. As the curious shock became apparent on her face he left his horrific meal and shoved her into a room where she couldn't see him eat.
Although sparing her life, his abuse towards her was still strong. His elaborate meals were not shared and she ate what gruel he dumped out for her. She was his plaything. He would touch her. Trying to stay alive, she would allow it. It was almost as if he was trying to foster... a relationship. Stroking the side of her face, his hand would move down her back - that was enough. She ran off, and he heaved a frustrated sigh.
It was only a few months after her capture that she could finally escape. The door to his home, now her hell, had been left slightly ajar. She crept up and silently, swiftly, pulled the door just open enough to sprint away. Her bounds were interrupted by his yell coming from behind her.
Ahead of her was the road to freedom. To the right was a dead worm, dried in the sunlight. She decided to turn right, deftly swiping up the worm, recalling the chants needed to use the spell she was considering. But her moment of hesitation had harmed her chances of escape, and she cowered under his shadow as his arms wrapped tightly around her body. She would have cried out for help, but the dead worm was safely kept in her mouth where her captor wouldn't see it.
That night she worked as he slept. Carefully crushing the worm while murmuring in a hushed tone, she cursed her captor. He would wake the next morning and witness one of his loved ones suffer. She quietly trodded back into the bed they shared and she slept. Throughout the night, her stomach twinged. It felt as if waves were crashing.
He awoke in a terror. She watched, eyes bleary and pained, then let out a moan. A phone call - could this be him getting the bad news she had cursed him with? She was excited - then she vomited. His disgust turned to worry as he quickly called a different subject, and the last words she heard as her vision went black were, "Is your vet's office open? I think my cat is sick." | She was the love of my life, my muse, my reason for existence. Though we barely exchanged words i felt a deep connection the moment we looked into each others eyes. It had to have been meant to be. I knew i had to act soon so no one else could steal her away and she could finally become mine. Her vibrant yellow hair, beautiful tan skin, and lovely inviting energy was enough to send any damn sicko in a 90-meter radius nuts.
Luckily for her i wouldn't let this happen. She was going to be my bride, we were going to grow old together and feed the ducks at the local pond while watching our grandchildren play near by. It was going to be perfect. How could any damn sicko live up to the perfect, affectionate, and caring husband i was gonna be? Exactly they couldn't, which is exactly why i needed to confess my love right away...
It was a fateful thursday morning, i had gotten up pretty early in anticipation of this event. I had took a shower, brushed my teeth rehearsed some lines to win her over, and as a nice touch to my already amazing appearance i drenched myself in AXE body spray, i had this in the bag! I got to school especially early that morning, from a little studying i noticed that she arrives fairly early to chat with her friends then at about 7:56AM goes to her first period class, human geography. I'd catch her in between her walk to her class and win her over. Simple as that, but as the clock grew closer and i made my approach something deeply unsettling happened.
This fucking barbarian of a man swoops up and snatches her like some kind of animal! Then puts his dirty, filthy lips on her warm, gentle skin. I almost couldn't believe what happened. I left early that day devastated. Lost and confused i wondered what kind of life i could have now that my reason for existence was taken from me. I wondered and wondered, took a nap, and eventually went out on a walk. Looking at all the people, lovely families, children. I came across this old couple feeding some pigeons.. It was at this moment i realized i had to fight for my dream to happen.
She was going to be mine no objections. I wondered where i could find such information as to how she could be mine, how i can undo that horrid spell that fucking barbarian unleashed upon her. Then i remembered the internet existed. I looked up "how to make a girl fall in love with you" nothing particularly useful initially popped up, but as i scrolled and scrolled i found something pretty interesting. "Witchcraft 101: how to cast a powerful love spell to get that special someone interested. Bingo. I found it!
I anxiously ran home oh so eagerly to try it out. According to the forum post all i needed was a pencil and a sheet of paper, i'd write my desire out and make a symbol based of of that. To charge it i'd need an offering "blood"? not about that life. "Semen"? This i can do. The forum post said all i need to do was unleash my load on the sheet of paper where my symbol was, but my love for her was too great, my desires too strong i could do much better. So i poked a hole in the paper and FUCKED THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF IT. If this had been a girl i would've been arrested for manslaughter by now. Anyways, you can imagine what my wish was " make that fucking behemoth get off my sweet little princess and into some other slut's pants, also make that little princess head over heels in love with me."
i was so confident in my magical prowess, i took a sip of strawberry cola and a good night's sleep in celebration. I was happy, and why wouldn't i? The next day i would see their relationship fall apart, and ours beginning. I was once again eager, abd hopeful. Everything's gonna be alright. I went to school the next day and saw them embrace once again, it hurt but i guess it'll take time to work. as the next day came however, the same thing happened. More days past, more weeks, and even months. I lost all confidence in the magic. My life was falling apart.. my car broke down, my grades plummeted and my grandmother died early this week. Things were obviously not going my way. In an attempt to fight against my pain, i developed a junk food addiction. There was a restaurant i was particularly fond of, dominos, my favourite dish was the thin slice box which tasted of both shame and heaven. I would go every friday with whatever money i had left. On my way this one particular day, i saw something that stopped me dead in my tracks.
The brute once again with her... They were embracing, from what i saw he had gotten her roses, and opened the car door for her, they were both smiling. In that moment i realized he makes her happy, way more happy then i could have ever made her. I made my way home rather quickly that day, i didn't even get any food. I guess i just lost my appetite.
A few weeks past since this event, i dropped out of school. My mother wants me to find another job but i haven't go the motivation. Lately I've been feeling very sick. These past few days have just been a series of waking up, eating whatever i have to, then falling back asleep. I never have many thoughts any more. To think i wanted to be a lawyer, guess all those AP classes really just were a waste huh.
My mom left tonight, so I'm the only one in the house, she's going out with her friends, probably to bitch about how shitty a son i turned out to be. That's okay though, when i have alone time i tend to make the best of it. I think I'll just go on a long drive to clear my mind. I walked into the garage, stepped into my vehicle, turned the AC on and prepared to take off. I couldn't help thinking about the girl though, never learned her name, and the brute. I hope they live a happy life together.
I feel very tired, a long drive sounded nice, and it's the perfect timing too, dark and rainy, perfect to think about things.
But i think I'll just close my eyes for a bit. | |
[WP]: You hate this one guy in particular. You also know witchcraft. So you cast a curse to slowly destroy the thing he loves the most. As time passes on, you find that nothing has changed, but you are starting to get sick. | It's been a long time since I wrote anything and it's my first writing prompt, but I found the scenario really cool! Feedback and critiques welcome.Edit: Catching writing errors
\-------------------------
The full moon hung low in the sky as I trudged my way up the path, mud beneath my boots. The cold night breeze caressed my hair, and I felt tingling along my skin as invisible presences drew close, only to retreat, as if I was a curiosity, quickly sated.
I felt it before I saw it. A mound, at the foot of a cluster of old beech trees, looking otherwise like an ordinary patch of foliage and undergrowth on slightly raised soil. My hair stood on end as I entered the centre of the mount, heart pounding.
I knelt, slowly, deliberately, lifting a black bag from the folds of my cloak, the bells on my wrist rustling gently with the movement. I reached into the bag, fingers closing around the handle of my magic dagger, brought it to my eyes, inscribed runes glinting in the moonlight.
The dagger never returns into the bag until its work is finished.
I drew out a picture of a young man from the bag. Brandon. A brown haired boy in a basketball uniform, wearing glasses, the flash of the camera glistening on his sweaty smile. A wave of anger rushed through me at the sight. I set the picture down on the floor, and, dipping my knife into red pigment, cut the strokes of a rune across the picture in swift, rehearsed strokes. It was as if all the hatred in me had been gathered from every nerve and every cell of my body and condensed into the very tip of the knife, slicing white hot into this man; this monster. Memories of my brother flashed through my head. My innocent brother, with his whole life ahead of him. That fateful night this man took him from the house, I had a sinking feeling in my stomach that I didn’t heed. I remembered the cold body of my brother lying in the hospital as they told me he died of a drug overdose- and I knew who gave it to him. He never apologized.
I held my dagger with a trembling hand as I completed the rune, my breaths haggard. Placing the dagger back into the bag, I struck a match. Its flames licked at the picture, and I watched it dissolve into ashes, its specks carried away by the wind. I shook my wrist, ringing the bells.
I wanted him to know what it was like to lose what he loved the most.
​
\---------------------------------
I woke up feeling like I couldn’t breathe. A coughing fit came over me, and I caught something liquid in my hand. Blindly grasping in the darkness, I flipped the switch of my bedside lamp, looking down at myself.
Blood. Bright red, over my sheets, on my hand. I stared at it for a long time as I caught my breath. My eyes immediately darted to the talismans hanging around my bed. The entire room was bristling with wards and protections. They’d not been disturbed.
I wiped my hand on the bloodstained cloth I had next to the bed, fumbling with the drawer as I reached for my pills, downing it quickly with the glass of water I had already prepared. Tuberculosis, the doctors said. And yet they found no signs of the bacteria. My lungs were haemorrhaging, and nobody knew why. They gave me medicine to try to stop the bleeding, but nothing was working.
Nothing would work. I knew what could make that happen.
As the sun rose, I showered and dressed, feeling extraordinarily lightheaded. I could barely stand on the train. My head was spinning and my mind raced.
I’ve already exhausted all the rituals I knew to counter curses, and I was running out of options.
As the doors opened, I briefly considered not leaving, death weighing heavily on my mind, but somehow, I summoned the strength to walk out, all the way to class.
If Brandon was a wizard, he did an exceedingly good job hiding it. I watched the brown haired boy from the picture stride confidently into the classroom with his friends. No hair stood up on my arm as he walked past me. No signs of any wards or talismans as he unzipped his bags to take his books out. Nothing seemed to have changed for him. He was still his usual, jovial self, a sight that caused me such fury.
I began to fear. Perhaps, he was a wizard of such unimaginable power that I couldn’t hope to curse him, and he’d placed one on me that couldn’t be stopped.
I immediately started coughing again, taking out my cloth to catch the blood, tried to cover it with my hands.
‘Clare, are you alright?’
I knew whose voice it was. I felt his hand on my shoulder.
‘I’m fine,’ I said, turning away.
‘I saw that- you’re coughing blood!’
‘I said I’m…’
A profound wave of dizziness suddenly took over me, and then I was on the ground, faces looming over me. I was in someone’s arms- Brandon’s.
‘Someone call the ambulance!’ He cried. My eyes widened in rage, and I weakly tried to push him away.
‘Fuck off… You… You did this…’ I said, feeling my head spin.
But even as the words left my mouth, I saw the terror on his face, the desperation in his voice, and I doubted.
‘Stay with me!’ He said.
And then there was nothing.
​
\--------------------------------------------------
​
I woke up with a start, in a room I didn’t know. I realized there was a mask over my face.
‘You’re finally awake,’ I heard someone say. A rustling of clothing, footsteps drawing near.
I knew that voice.
‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ I said acidly, turning to look at Brandon as he sat next to my bed. I realized that I was in a hospital ward. My heart sank as I thought about having to pay for all of that.
‘You’ve got no family here. Someone had to come.’
‘I wonder why.’
Brandon was silent. The air hung thick with the silence, and I saw something in his eyes change.
‘I know,’ he said quietly.
‘I don’t know what you did, but I’m dying. As you probably… wanted,’ I said, coughing.
‘What do you mean, “as I probably wanted”? I… I…’
‘Just admit it. This isn’t tuberculosis. This… This is…’
‘What are you saying, Clare? You’re not making any sense.’
‘You killed my brother. And now you’re coming for me. You must be pretty thrilled to see me dying.’
His voice was trembling. ‘How could you say that? You have no idea what happened there between me and your brother! He was my friend! I tried to tell him. I tried to stop him! But he insisted… Said he knew what he was doing… and then he… I…’
Brandon broke down, head in his heads. Then, gathering himself, he looked me in the eye.
‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry, for all the pain it must have caused you. I was stupid. Every single day, I wish I was the one who died.’
His words shocked me into silence.
‘I know you hate me. And I deserve all of that. But I don’t hate you. You know…’
I reeled mentally as I realized the enormity of what I’d done. Brandon never apologized not because he was a monster. He was just a coward, nothing more than a stupid teenager-
‘I… I love you, Clare. It hurts me so much to see you like this,’ he finished. He rubbed at an eye. ‘I want you to know that in case you… You…’
I was the monster. I did this.
The air was pregnant with unspoken words. He sat still, not daring to move.
I laughed. Laughed bitterly. Of course none of the protections worked. Of course I couldn't tell who cast the curse. *Of course*... Brandon looked up and stared at me, eyes wide in horror and confusion.
I’d have to go back to the forest. Back to the mound. Unmake the rune I made there. I couldn’t do it. But Brandon… Maybe...
I laughed- at myself, at Brandon, at everything. I am a fool.
‘Hey, Brandon,’ I whispered. ‘Tell you a secret…’ | She was the love of my life, my muse, my reason for existence. Though we barely exchanged words i felt a deep connection the moment we looked into each others eyes. It had to have been meant to be. I knew i had to act soon so no one else could steal her away and she could finally become mine. Her vibrant yellow hair, beautiful tan skin, and lovely inviting energy was enough to send any damn sicko in a 90-meter radius nuts.
Luckily for her i wouldn't let this happen. She was going to be my bride, we were going to grow old together and feed the ducks at the local pond while watching our grandchildren play near by. It was going to be perfect. How could any damn sicko live up to the perfect, affectionate, and caring husband i was gonna be? Exactly they couldn't, which is exactly why i needed to confess my love right away...
It was a fateful thursday morning, i had gotten up pretty early in anticipation of this event. I had took a shower, brushed my teeth rehearsed some lines to win her over, and as a nice touch to my already amazing appearance i drenched myself in AXE body spray, i had this in the bag! I got to school especially early that morning, from a little studying i noticed that she arrives fairly early to chat with her friends then at about 7:56AM goes to her first period class, human geography. I'd catch her in between her walk to her class and win her over. Simple as that, but as the clock grew closer and i made my approach something deeply unsettling happened.
This fucking barbarian of a man swoops up and snatches her like some kind of animal! Then puts his dirty, filthy lips on her warm, gentle skin. I almost couldn't believe what happened. I left early that day devastated. Lost and confused i wondered what kind of life i could have now that my reason for existence was taken from me. I wondered and wondered, took a nap, and eventually went out on a walk. Looking at all the people, lovely families, children. I came across this old couple feeding some pigeons.. It was at this moment i realized i had to fight for my dream to happen.
She was going to be mine no objections. I wondered where i could find such information as to how she could be mine, how i can undo that horrid spell that fucking barbarian unleashed upon her. Then i remembered the internet existed. I looked up "how to make a girl fall in love with you" nothing particularly useful initially popped up, but as i scrolled and scrolled i found something pretty interesting. "Witchcraft 101: how to cast a powerful love spell to get that special someone interested. Bingo. I found it!
I anxiously ran home oh so eagerly to try it out. According to the forum post all i needed was a pencil and a sheet of paper, i'd write my desire out and make a symbol based of of that. To charge it i'd need an offering "blood"? not about that life. "Semen"? This i can do. The forum post said all i need to do was unleash my load on the sheet of paper where my symbol was, but my love for her was too great, my desires too strong i could do much better. So i poked a hole in the paper and FUCKED THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF IT. If this had been a girl i would've been arrested for manslaughter by now. Anyways, you can imagine what my wish was " make that fucking behemoth get off my sweet little princess and into some other slut's pants, also make that little princess head over heels in love with me."
i was so confident in my magical prowess, i took a sip of strawberry cola and a good night's sleep in celebration. I was happy, and why wouldn't i? The next day i would see their relationship fall apart, and ours beginning. I was once again eager, abd hopeful. Everything's gonna be alright. I went to school the next day and saw them embrace once again, it hurt but i guess it'll take time to work. as the next day came however, the same thing happened. More days past, more weeks, and even months. I lost all confidence in the magic. My life was falling apart.. my car broke down, my grades plummeted and my grandmother died early this week. Things were obviously not going my way. In an attempt to fight against my pain, i developed a junk food addiction. There was a restaurant i was particularly fond of, dominos, my favourite dish was the thin slice box which tasted of both shame and heaven. I would go every friday with whatever money i had left. On my way this one particular day, i saw something that stopped me dead in my tracks.
The brute once again with her... They were embracing, from what i saw he had gotten her roses, and opened the car door for her, they were both smiling. In that moment i realized he makes her happy, way more happy then i could have ever made her. I made my way home rather quickly that day, i didn't even get any food. I guess i just lost my appetite.
A few weeks past since this event, i dropped out of school. My mother wants me to find another job but i haven't go the motivation. Lately I've been feeling very sick. These past few days have just been a series of waking up, eating whatever i have to, then falling back asleep. I never have many thoughts any more. To think i wanted to be a lawyer, guess all those AP classes really just were a waste huh.
My mom left tonight, so I'm the only one in the house, she's going out with her friends, probably to bitch about how shitty a son i turned out to be. That's okay though, when i have alone time i tend to make the best of it. I think I'll just go on a long drive to clear my mind. I walked into the garage, stepped into my vehicle, turned the AC on and prepared to take off. I couldn't help thinking about the girl though, never learned her name, and the brute. I hope they live a happy life together.
I feel very tired, a long drive sounded nice, and it's the perfect timing too, dark and rainy, perfect to think about things.
But i think I'll just close my eyes for a bit. | |
[WP]: You hate this one guy in particular. You also know witchcraft. So you cast a curse to slowly destroy the thing he loves the most. As time passes on, you find that nothing has changed, but you are starting to get sick. | I paused in my journal as a large drop of blood fell dramatically from my nose to land on the center of the adjacent page, turning it into something that resembled the flag of Japan. Briefly, I considered leaving it there. A monument, of sorts.
I imagined him reading this after I was gone, and seeing my deterioration in the pages as it went along. Imagined him realizing, as I did, what my selfish thoughts and careless magik had wrought. Hot tears charged down my face and leaped towards the page, mingling with the drop of blood to become some type of morbid splatter art.
A memory came to me, unbidden, of playing ball as a child. The ball hit a bump, popped up and caught me in the nose. It bled and I cried then, too. Mom had been a 'there, there honey, let's get you cleaned up' type of mother. So expressive with her love. Later, when Dad found out about it, he'd taken a much more Jimmy Dougan stance.
He'd missed the game, of course. Missed most of them. Missed some of my birthdays. My graduation. Important clients, important business trips, important job.
If he had at one point just told me how important I was, then maybe...
After the tears stopped again, I continued writing. I needed him to know, when he read this, that I didn't mean to hurt him. I didn't want him to suffer. I didn't know how to talk to him, and I realize now he didn't know how to talk to me.
I need him to know that I love him as much as he loves me, and not his job, and I had just wanted time with my dad. | She was the love of my life, my muse, my reason for existence. Though we barely exchanged words i felt a deep connection the moment we looked into each others eyes. It had to have been meant to be. I knew i had to act soon so no one else could steal her away and she could finally become mine. Her vibrant yellow hair, beautiful tan skin, and lovely inviting energy was enough to send any damn sicko in a 90-meter radius nuts.
Luckily for her i wouldn't let this happen. She was going to be my bride, we were going to grow old together and feed the ducks at the local pond while watching our grandchildren play near by. It was going to be perfect. How could any damn sicko live up to the perfect, affectionate, and caring husband i was gonna be? Exactly they couldn't, which is exactly why i needed to confess my love right away...
It was a fateful thursday morning, i had gotten up pretty early in anticipation of this event. I had took a shower, brushed my teeth rehearsed some lines to win her over, and as a nice touch to my already amazing appearance i drenched myself in AXE body spray, i had this in the bag! I got to school especially early that morning, from a little studying i noticed that she arrives fairly early to chat with her friends then at about 7:56AM goes to her first period class, human geography. I'd catch her in between her walk to her class and win her over. Simple as that, but as the clock grew closer and i made my approach something deeply unsettling happened.
This fucking barbarian of a man swoops up and snatches her like some kind of animal! Then puts his dirty, filthy lips on her warm, gentle skin. I almost couldn't believe what happened. I left early that day devastated. Lost and confused i wondered what kind of life i could have now that my reason for existence was taken from me. I wondered and wondered, took a nap, and eventually went out on a walk. Looking at all the people, lovely families, children. I came across this old couple feeding some pigeons.. It was at this moment i realized i had to fight for my dream to happen.
She was going to be mine no objections. I wondered where i could find such information as to how she could be mine, how i can undo that horrid spell that fucking barbarian unleashed upon her. Then i remembered the internet existed. I looked up "how to make a girl fall in love with you" nothing particularly useful initially popped up, but as i scrolled and scrolled i found something pretty interesting. "Witchcraft 101: how to cast a powerful love spell to get that special someone interested. Bingo. I found it!
I anxiously ran home oh so eagerly to try it out. According to the forum post all i needed was a pencil and a sheet of paper, i'd write my desire out and make a symbol based of of that. To charge it i'd need an offering "blood"? not about that life. "Semen"? This i can do. The forum post said all i need to do was unleash my load on the sheet of paper where my symbol was, but my love for her was too great, my desires too strong i could do much better. So i poked a hole in the paper and FUCKED THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF IT. If this had been a girl i would've been arrested for manslaughter by now. Anyways, you can imagine what my wish was " make that fucking behemoth get off my sweet little princess and into some other slut's pants, also make that little princess head over heels in love with me."
i was so confident in my magical prowess, i took a sip of strawberry cola and a good night's sleep in celebration. I was happy, and why wouldn't i? The next day i would see their relationship fall apart, and ours beginning. I was once again eager, abd hopeful. Everything's gonna be alright. I went to school the next day and saw them embrace once again, it hurt but i guess it'll take time to work. as the next day came however, the same thing happened. More days past, more weeks, and even months. I lost all confidence in the magic. My life was falling apart.. my car broke down, my grades plummeted and my grandmother died early this week. Things were obviously not going my way. In an attempt to fight against my pain, i developed a junk food addiction. There was a restaurant i was particularly fond of, dominos, my favourite dish was the thin slice box which tasted of both shame and heaven. I would go every friday with whatever money i had left. On my way this one particular day, i saw something that stopped me dead in my tracks.
The brute once again with her... They were embracing, from what i saw he had gotten her roses, and opened the car door for her, they were both smiling. In that moment i realized he makes her happy, way more happy then i could have ever made her. I made my way home rather quickly that day, i didn't even get any food. I guess i just lost my appetite.
A few weeks past since this event, i dropped out of school. My mother wants me to find another job but i haven't go the motivation. Lately I've been feeling very sick. These past few days have just been a series of waking up, eating whatever i have to, then falling back asleep. I never have many thoughts any more. To think i wanted to be a lawyer, guess all those AP classes really just were a waste huh.
My mom left tonight, so I'm the only one in the house, she's going out with her friends, probably to bitch about how shitty a son i turned out to be. That's okay though, when i have alone time i tend to make the best of it. I think I'll just go on a long drive to clear my mind. I walked into the garage, stepped into my vehicle, turned the AC on and prepared to take off. I couldn't help thinking about the girl though, never learned her name, and the brute. I hope they live a happy life together.
I feel very tired, a long drive sounded nice, and it's the perfect timing too, dark and rainy, perfect to think about things.
But i think I'll just close my eyes for a bit. | |
[WP]: You hate this one guy in particular. You also know witchcraft. So you cast a curse to slowly destroy the thing he loves the most. As time passes on, you find that nothing has changed, but you are starting to get sick. | I paused in my journal as a large drop of blood fell dramatically from my nose to land on the center of the adjacent page, turning it into something that resembled the flag of Japan. Briefly, I considered leaving it there. A monument, of sorts.
I imagined him reading this after I was gone, and seeing my deterioration in the pages as it went along. Imagined him realizing, as I did, what my selfish thoughts and careless magik had wrought. Hot tears charged down my face and leaped towards the page, mingling with the drop of blood to become some type of morbid splatter art.
A memory came to me, unbidden, of playing ball as a child. The ball hit a bump, popped up and caught me in the nose. It bled and I cried then, too. Mom had been a 'there, there honey, let's get you cleaned up' type of mother. So expressive with her love. Later, when Dad found out about it, he'd taken a much more Jimmy Dougan stance.
He'd missed the game, of course. Missed most of them. Missed some of my birthdays. My graduation. Important clients, important business trips, important job.
If he had at one point just told me how important I was, then maybe...
After the tears stopped again, I continued writing. I needed him to know, when he read this, that I didn't mean to hurt him. I didn't want him to suffer. I didn't know how to talk to him, and I realize now he didn't know how to talk to me.
I need him to know that I love him as much as he loves me, and not his job, and I had just wanted time with my dad. | It couldn't have backfired. No, there was no way. I was too adept, too well versed. I'd gone over the ritual again and again before casting the spell. I knew far too well how easily these things could go wrong and I'd taken every precaution to ensure that wouldn't happen. Still, I had found myself growing weaker and weaker without cause.
I usually never evoked the use of such dark magics. I'd never hurt anyone else in my life, magically or otherwise, but this man... No. This *monster* was a special case. I'd known him for years and the more I found out, the more I knew something had to be done.
To the outside world, Dr. Everett Baxter was a prominent cardiovascular surgeon and one of the best in the country, with such a carefully crafted backstory. When his young daughter mysteriously got sick and eventually succumbed to her illness, his wife supposedly took her own life, unable to bear the grief. I had been one of the doctors trying to treat little Emma and the case had certainly baffled all of us. There was no scientific reason she should have been ill. Even the autopsy had shown a perfectly healthy little girl. As for his wife, Maria, her death had been ruled a suicide, but nothing about it seemed consistent for me, but it had been for the insurance company. Dr. Baxter had an evil aura around him. I could sense it. It was more malevolent than anything I'd ever encountered. And I knew somehow he'd killed them both.
So after a while, I'd done it. I cast the spell to take away the thing he loved most. I had been so certain it would be himself. He wasn't capable of loving anything else.
"Dr. Reynolds, " He addressed me in the hall one afternoon. I knew I was looking worse for wear and probably shouldn't have been at work at all, but I couldn't bring myself to go home. "Do you have a moment we could speak in my office?"
My body was aching and every bone in my body was screaming at me to stay away from him, but curiosity had me. He had no business being on this floor, so he must have sought me out. I gave a nod and followed him to his office.
"Dr. Baxter," I began once we were inside, but he held up a hand to stop me.
"Let's skip all the formalities and pretense, shall we, Jenna? I'd surmise you don't have long left. Perhaps a day, maybe two? It would be a pity for you to die without understanding why," He stated, looking satisfied with the shock coursing through me. "I think we both know and have for some time now what one another really are. And I've figured out what you've done. I have to hand it to you. It was incredibly clever," He said, moving unbearably close as he circled me like a lion circling its prey. He leaned in behind me, his hot breath hitting my neck as he whispered to me. "That's one of the reasons I love you so much."
---
Thanks for reading! For more prompt fills and stories, visit /r/AgentPeggyCarter | |
[WP]: You hate this one guy in particular. You also know witchcraft. So you cast a curse to slowly destroy the thing he loves the most. As time passes on, you find that nothing has changed, but you are starting to get sick. | "It backfired," I told Marie, glaring daggers at her. This was all her fault. I was fine to just continue being quietly passive-aggressive with Tom for the next two years until my contract was done and I could move over to the mountains and become some small town's crazy hermit witch. It was even occasionally entertaining. But no, she had to get all up-in-arms about what he said about me being 'frightening', and she had to egg me on after one of our fights, and she had to give me the stupid fucking spell book.
"What, how?" She asked, looking at my condition. Black vein-like lines had begun making their way from the tips of my digits to the rest of my body. It started off slow, but a couple of days in and it hurt every time I tried to move my hands or my feet, both of which were mostly covered in black at this point. "You did it perfectly. You were amazing! We were gonna show him--"
"I don't know how, but unless you figure something out--"
"Okay, okay, let's think. Did you cast it on you? Are you the thing you love most?"
I frowned. "No...? You saw me cast it."
"Okay, how about--"
Tom entered the staff room. "Well what are you two little foxes doing today?"
"Nothing, Sam and I--" Marie started, but I silenced her with a glare.
"We messed up a curse--one that was a lot stronger than it was supposed to be," I added, looking at Marie, "--and now some black magic is eating me alive."
He rolled his eyes. "Ha ha, very funny, 'let's all show the black magic guy how scary his research area is'. You know, if you're going to come up with a prank--"
I showed him my hands and he fell silent.
"Now, Tom, you know it is not like me to ask for your help--especially since this curse was directed at you--but if you could point me to the right resources on the topic of black magic..."
He paled.
"Oh, so it's worse than I thought." I went on, "Marie, can you get the book? I'm sure there's a clause in it somewhere that--"
"Kiss me," he said, barely above a whisper.
"Excuse me?"
"Kiss me! It's--if you want to live you need to kiss me," he said, suddenly desperate.
"What, is it dispelled by disgust?" Marie asked. I moved to rub my temples but my hands hurt too much.
"It's powered by love. Isn't it?" he asked, not expecting us to answer. "It's powered by love. I know this curse. I can overpower it, but it requires an intimate act. Now, unless you want to strip naked so we can do it here and now, I think a kiss is the best option."
"Fine," I said, "Prepare the spell."
He nodded, and I saw him cast white magic for the first time since I met him. It was mesmerizing, as he clothed his right hand in light. He slowly moved his fingers towards my chin, then held it softly.
"Ready?" he asked.
I nodded, and he kissed me.
A cool, white light came over me, and the painful black lines vanished from my skin.
I pulled away after a moment. "Thank you, Tom."
"I... yes. I--I mean, you--it--Anytime. I mean, not anytime, you shouldn't be doing that--why would you do that--I don't mean to be accusatory, I--it just--you scared me."
I squinted at him. "...What?"
"Nothing--I'm--you didn't--I'm not trying to--" he stammered some more and I stared at him until he shut his mouth and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I have to go."
"Tom, did I cast that spell right?" I asked, as he turned to leave.
"What?"
"Did I cast it right?" I asked, "I have been working under the assumption that I failed to cast it right, and that is why it affected me."
"I..." he moved his mouth in some vague shapes, but no sound came out of it.
"If I have failed at casting a spell of that magnitude, I should book an appointment with the Magical Performance Council, so that I may have my license placed in probation until such a time as I can--"
"Yes! It was fine! You are incapable of casting a spell wrong--do you have to torture me?"
I raised an eyebrow. "Look, how you feel is your business, I was just asking because--"
"You know. You have to know. How can you not know?" he asked, indignantly. "You're the most beautiful, most talented, most brilliant person to ever walk these halls--you don't have to lord it over me, and you don't have to mock me when I--when I..."
I chuckled. "I am not--"
"Yes you are! How can you possibly not see it?"
I choked out a laugh, "You realize that Merlin himself--"
"Okay, so maybe not the most, but--still!"
"You publish more than I do."
"Because you make me!"
To this I had no reply. I noticed Marie trying to leave the room discreetly. The silence dragged on for a moment. He looked at me, then looked everywhere but me, then sighed.
His voice was quiet when he said "I want to be good enough for you."
The next words came out of my mouth almost without my permission. "You're good enough right now, you don't need to..." I trailed off as I realized what I had said. He paused, and looked at me for a long moment. Then he spoke.
"Are you free for dinner tomorrow?" | It couldn't have backfired. No, there was no way. I was too adept, too well versed. I'd gone over the ritual again and again before casting the spell. I knew far too well how easily these things could go wrong and I'd taken every precaution to ensure that wouldn't happen. Still, I had found myself growing weaker and weaker without cause.
I usually never evoked the use of such dark magics. I'd never hurt anyone else in my life, magically or otherwise, but this man... No. This *monster* was a special case. I'd known him for years and the more I found out, the more I knew something had to be done.
To the outside world, Dr. Everett Baxter was a prominent cardiovascular surgeon and one of the best in the country, with such a carefully crafted backstory. When his young daughter mysteriously got sick and eventually succumbed to her illness, his wife supposedly took her own life, unable to bear the grief. I had been one of the doctors trying to treat little Emma and the case had certainly baffled all of us. There was no scientific reason she should have been ill. Even the autopsy had shown a perfectly healthy little girl. As for his wife, Maria, her death had been ruled a suicide, but nothing about it seemed consistent for me, but it had been for the insurance company. Dr. Baxter had an evil aura around him. I could sense it. It was more malevolent than anything I'd ever encountered. And I knew somehow he'd killed them both.
So after a while, I'd done it. I cast the spell to take away the thing he loved most. I had been so certain it would be himself. He wasn't capable of loving anything else.
"Dr. Reynolds, " He addressed me in the hall one afternoon. I knew I was looking worse for wear and probably shouldn't have been at work at all, but I couldn't bring myself to go home. "Do you have a moment we could speak in my office?"
My body was aching and every bone in my body was screaming at me to stay away from him, but curiosity had me. He had no business being on this floor, so he must have sought me out. I gave a nod and followed him to his office.
"Dr. Baxter," I began once we were inside, but he held up a hand to stop me.
"Let's skip all the formalities and pretense, shall we, Jenna? I'd surmise you don't have long left. Perhaps a day, maybe two? It would be a pity for you to die without understanding why," He stated, looking satisfied with the shock coursing through me. "I think we both know and have for some time now what one another really are. And I've figured out what you've done. I have to hand it to you. It was incredibly clever," He said, moving unbearably close as he circled me like a lion circling its prey. He leaned in behind me, his hot breath hitting my neck as he whispered to me. "That's one of the reasons I love you so much."
---
Thanks for reading! For more prompt fills and stories, visit /r/AgentPeggyCarter | |
[WP]: You hate this one guy in particular. You also know witchcraft. So you cast a curse to slowly destroy the thing he loves the most. As time passes on, you find that nothing has changed, but you are starting to get sick. | I paused in my journal as a large drop of blood fell dramatically from my nose to land on the center of the adjacent page, turning it into something that resembled the flag of Japan. Briefly, I considered leaving it there. A monument, of sorts.
I imagined him reading this after I was gone, and seeing my deterioration in the pages as it went along. Imagined him realizing, as I did, what my selfish thoughts and careless magik had wrought. Hot tears charged down my face and leaped towards the page, mingling with the drop of blood to become some type of morbid splatter art.
A memory came to me, unbidden, of playing ball as a child. The ball hit a bump, popped up and caught me in the nose. It bled and I cried then, too. Mom had been a 'there, there honey, let's get you cleaned up' type of mother. So expressive with her love. Later, when Dad found out about it, he'd taken a much more Jimmy Dougan stance.
He'd missed the game, of course. Missed most of them. Missed some of my birthdays. My graduation. Important clients, important business trips, important job.
If he had at one point just told me how important I was, then maybe...
After the tears stopped again, I continued writing. I needed him to know, when he read this, that I didn't mean to hurt him. I didn't want him to suffer. I didn't know how to talk to him, and I realize now he didn't know how to talk to me.
I need him to know that I love him as much as he loves me, and not his job, and I had just wanted time with my dad. | Brittle bones, purple bruises and a weakness that makes you fall to your knees and never give up.
What do you love you so much that the mere thought of it gone brings great agony?
It hurts, it really fucking hurts. So many bruises on my body. Black, purple and yellow. I'm a tapestry of my own making.
How do he do it? How did he deflect it so it would rebound? I sold my soul for what? A bout of disaster.
Allan wipes my forehead done. Everything he does feels deliberate and malicious.
"What do did you do?" he asks.
I say nothing. Of course he blames me for my afflictions.
My nose trickles with blood. He stares at the flow. Slow. Seeping.
He grabs another tissue, he puts it to my nose.
"Blow," he says.
I grit my teeth.
"Blow," he repeats.
Nothing. I will say nothing you vile piece of excrement.
"Blow," he intones.
"And then what?" I rasp through a crushed wind-pipe, "You'll make me regret it?"
He punches my nose gruffily with the tissue.
"Oh, you did that already by yourself."
No you did.
His face lights up suddenly.
"But, me taking care of you ... It feels like a dream."
He taunting me, I know it.
"I thought you'd leave me," he says lowly, "but now you'll stay, you'll be mine now."
A hell of my own making. | |
[WP]: You hate this one guy in particular. You also know witchcraft. So you cast a curse to slowly destroy the thing he loves the most. As time passes on, you find that nothing has changed, but you are starting to get sick. | "It backfired," I told Marie, glaring daggers at her. This was all her fault. I was fine to just continue being quietly passive-aggressive with Tom for the next two years until my contract was done and I could move over to the mountains and become some small town's crazy hermit witch. It was even occasionally entertaining. But no, she had to get all up-in-arms about what he said about me being 'frightening', and she had to egg me on after one of our fights, and she had to give me the stupid fucking spell book.
"What, how?" She asked, looking at my condition. Black vein-like lines had begun making their way from the tips of my digits to the rest of my body. It started off slow, but a couple of days in and it hurt every time I tried to move my hands or my feet, both of which were mostly covered in black at this point. "You did it perfectly. You were amazing! We were gonna show him--"
"I don't know how, but unless you figure something out--"
"Okay, okay, let's think. Did you cast it on you? Are you the thing you love most?"
I frowned. "No...? You saw me cast it."
"Okay, how about--"
Tom entered the staff room. "Well what are you two little foxes doing today?"
"Nothing, Sam and I--" Marie started, but I silenced her with a glare.
"We messed up a curse--one that was a lot stronger than it was supposed to be," I added, looking at Marie, "--and now some black magic is eating me alive."
He rolled his eyes. "Ha ha, very funny, 'let's all show the black magic guy how scary his research area is'. You know, if you're going to come up with a prank--"
I showed him my hands and he fell silent.
"Now, Tom, you know it is not like me to ask for your help--especially since this curse was directed at you--but if you could point me to the right resources on the topic of black magic..."
He paled.
"Oh, so it's worse than I thought." I went on, "Marie, can you get the book? I'm sure there's a clause in it somewhere that--"
"Kiss me," he said, barely above a whisper.
"Excuse me?"
"Kiss me! It's--if you want to live you need to kiss me," he said, suddenly desperate.
"What, is it dispelled by disgust?" Marie asked. I moved to rub my temples but my hands hurt too much.
"It's powered by love. Isn't it?" he asked, not expecting us to answer. "It's powered by love. I know this curse. I can overpower it, but it requires an intimate act. Now, unless you want to strip naked so we can do it here and now, I think a kiss is the best option."
"Fine," I said, "Prepare the spell."
He nodded, and I saw him cast white magic for the first time since I met him. It was mesmerizing, as he clothed his right hand in light. He slowly moved his fingers towards my chin, then held it softly.
"Ready?" he asked.
I nodded, and he kissed me.
A cool, white light came over me, and the painful black lines vanished from my skin.
I pulled away after a moment. "Thank you, Tom."
"I... yes. I--I mean, you--it--Anytime. I mean, not anytime, you shouldn't be doing that--why would you do that--I don't mean to be accusatory, I--it just--you scared me."
I squinted at him. "...What?"
"Nothing--I'm--you didn't--I'm not trying to--" he stammered some more and I stared at him until he shut his mouth and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I have to go."
"Tom, did I cast that spell right?" I asked, as he turned to leave.
"What?"
"Did I cast it right?" I asked, "I have been working under the assumption that I failed to cast it right, and that is why it affected me."
"I..." he moved his mouth in some vague shapes, but no sound came out of it.
"If I have failed at casting a spell of that magnitude, I should book an appointment with the Magical Performance Council, so that I may have my license placed in probation until such a time as I can--"
"Yes! It was fine! You are incapable of casting a spell wrong--do you have to torture me?"
I raised an eyebrow. "Look, how you feel is your business, I was just asking because--"
"You know. You have to know. How can you not know?" he asked, indignantly. "You're the most beautiful, most talented, most brilliant person to ever walk these halls--you don't have to lord it over me, and you don't have to mock me when I--when I..."
I chuckled. "I am not--"
"Yes you are! How can you possibly not see it?"
I choked out a laugh, "You realize that Merlin himself--"
"Okay, so maybe not the most, but--still!"
"You publish more than I do."
"Because you make me!"
To this I had no reply. I noticed Marie trying to leave the room discreetly. The silence dragged on for a moment. He looked at me, then looked everywhere but me, then sighed.
His voice was quiet when he said "I want to be good enough for you."
The next words came out of my mouth almost without my permission. "You're good enough right now, you don't need to..." I trailed off as I realized what I had said. He paused, and looked at me for a long moment. Then he spoke.
"Are you free for dinner tomorrow?" | Brittle bones, purple bruises and a weakness that makes you fall to your knees and never give up.
What do you love you so much that the mere thought of it gone brings great agony?
It hurts, it really fucking hurts. So many bruises on my body. Black, purple and yellow. I'm a tapestry of my own making.
How do he do it? How did he deflect it so it would rebound? I sold my soul for what? A bout of disaster.
Allan wipes my forehead done. Everything he does feels deliberate and malicious.
"What do did you do?" he asks.
I say nothing. Of course he blames me for my afflictions.
My nose trickles with blood. He stares at the flow. Slow. Seeping.
He grabs another tissue, he puts it to my nose.
"Blow," he says.
I grit my teeth.
"Blow," he repeats.
Nothing. I will say nothing you vile piece of excrement.
"Blow," he intones.
"And then what?" I rasp through a crushed wind-pipe, "You'll make me regret it?"
He punches my nose gruffily with the tissue.
"Oh, you did that already by yourself."
No you did.
His face lights up suddenly.
"But, me taking care of you ... It feels like a dream."
He taunting me, I know it.
"I thought you'd leave me," he says lowly, "but now you'll stay, you'll be mine now."
A hell of my own making. | |
[WP]: You hate this one guy in particular. You also know witchcraft. So you cast a curse to slowly destroy the thing he loves the most. As time passes on, you find that nothing has changed, but you are starting to get sick. | College students spilled out into the quad, Miranda Bates being among them. She slowed as she passed by the tall oak tree shadowing over the alchemist building. Her attention fixed, watching someone she loathed – his name, Anthony Parker.
“Great spell you casted!” mocked Miranda’s best friend, Fiona, coming up from behind. Fiona was a tall, sharp looking individual. Everyone would turn to notice her because of her dark clothing that showcased her rare vibrant ruby hair. Her hair was a sign of rare magic and was not a common gene among the students. Miranda rolled her eyes in envy watching Anthony Parker play fetch with his dog, Murphy. “Maybe Murphy is immune to spells? Maybe Murphy is a familiar?”
“He’s not a familiar! He’s a dumb, stupid dog just like his owner!” Miranda’s anger sparked a small flame against the bark of the oak tree.
“Careful. We aren’t allowed to use magic in the quad.” Fiona reminded her, holding back her laughter.
“We aren’t really supposed to use magic at all.” Miranda tilted her head, biting down on her lip. She closed her eyes and curled her fist to help calm herself.
“Well,” Fiona smiled, “too bad for the sororities who don’t!” she winked. “When did you cast the spell?”
“Over two weeks ago.” Miranda explained before being interrupted by the cough she'd had all morning.
“You okay?” Fiona asked while taking out a water bottle.
“I’m fine.” Miranda took a sip.
“No, you’re rusty. I watched you cast it. You were trembling as if you were thinking about backing out of it altogether.”
“No, I wasn’t! Anthony and that damn dog deserve it!” Miranda snapped back. She pulled her long charcoal hair back into a bun. She ran her fingers down her thigh feeling the scar Murphy gave her before she had told Anthony she never wanted to see him again.
“Still haven’t gotten rid of the scar?” Fiona took her hand out and placed it over Miranda’s thigh.
“Don’t! That scar will remind me not to feel bad after Murphy’s gone.”
Fiona rolled her eyes before crossing her arms. “Yea, looks like you're succeeding in that department.”
“I don’t understand. The spell was made to look like natural sickness of the thing you love most. I don’t understand why Murphy's still not sick.”
Fiona pondered, resting her fore finger over her lips. “Maybe he doesn’t love Murphy the most?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. He doesn’t care about anything else except that little brat.”
“Well, it’s been fun, but it’s a Friday and I plan to get drunk, so – I’ll catch you later.” Fiona snapped her fingers changing her entire identity into a bright red eagle. She soared over the alchemist building as a professor walked out.
“Fiona! This is your last warning!” The professor dropped his books and ran after her. “Magic is not allowed!”
Anthony threw the stick over Murphy’s head. Murphy instantly turned around to recover the stick beside a group of bushes. Miranda continued watching until her cough came back. She leaned over coughing harder until she was forced to grab hold of the oak for support. Anthony turned his attention onto Miranda.
“What are you looking at? Go back to your beast.” Miranda coughed again. This time, however, she cupped her right palm over her mouth finding blood mixed in her saliva. “What in the?”
Miranda looked up only to find Anthony still staring at her. She quickly glanced over to find Murphy grabbing hold of the stick in his mouth.
“Did someone curse you? You know they will be arrested and put on trial.” Anthony walked up trying to help her between the coughs.
“Get away from me!” She pulled away from him.
“Look, I’m just trying to help. Do you know who would have cursed you?” Miranda glared into Murphy’s eyes who started to walk back with his stick.
“If your dog comes near me,” Miranda threatened. “I swear, I” she was interrupted by Anthony snapping his fingers. Slowly, Murphy turned into a small haze of fog before rolling away with the autumn leaves. Miranda’s eyes widened.
“Why did,” she started but Anthony immediately replied,
“He wasn’t real. Well, I mean, not really.”
“I don’t understand.” Miranda straightened her back before coughing again. “Why did your made-up dog bite me? Why did you waste magic creating a dog?”
“Well, ok the whole biting thing was my fault. I may have messed up the spell a little bit, but oh well.”
“Messed up the spell?” Miranda was confused.
“Yea, Fiona gave me a spell to use for the dog because she told me you had a thing for dogs.”
“Well I did, until yours bit me!” Miranda tried fighting the urge of coughing. “Wait, so Fiona gave you the spell for a dog? How did you mess it up so badly? Aren’t you like the top of your class?”
“Well yea,” Anthony lowered his head. “I was just nervous, I guess, but never-mind all that. We need to find out who cursed you.”
“Wait, why did you care if I was into dogs? Are you into me?” Miranda fell against the tree. Sweat started to run down her brow.
“Seriously, Miranda, you don’t look so good. We need to get you over to healing.”
“Fiona,” Miranda started to whisper before falling onto the ground.
“Miranda! Miranda! Can you hear me?” Anthony grasped her arms. Other students started to crowd around as a couple of Anthony’s classmates helped him pick Miranda off the ground.
Anthony leaned in closer to Miranda while she kept trying to whisper something into his ear. “Fiona gave me the spell to curse you.”
Anthony’s eyes widened in shock. Miranda’s eyes completely closed as her breathing slowed. Students were all whispering to one another as one student in particular stood far behind the crowd leaned up against the History Building. Fiona couldn’t hide her smile. She watched as Anthony held onto Miranda.
“Finally.” Fiona said to herself. “No more competition.”
***
Want to read more? Visit [13th Olympian Stories!](https://www.reddit.com/r/13thOlympian/) | Brittle bones, purple bruises and a weakness that makes you fall to your knees and never give up.
What do you love you so much that the mere thought of it gone brings great agony?
It hurts, it really fucking hurts. So many bruises on my body. Black, purple and yellow. I'm a tapestry of my own making.
How do he do it? How did he deflect it so it would rebound? I sold my soul for what? A bout of disaster.
Allan wipes my forehead done. Everything he does feels deliberate and malicious.
"What do did you do?" he asks.
I say nothing. Of course he blames me for my afflictions.
My nose trickles with blood. He stares at the flow. Slow. Seeping.
He grabs another tissue, he puts it to my nose.
"Blow," he says.
I grit my teeth.
"Blow," he repeats.
Nothing. I will say nothing you vile piece of excrement.
"Blow," he intones.
"And then what?" I rasp through a crushed wind-pipe, "You'll make me regret it?"
He punches my nose gruffily with the tissue.
"Oh, you did that already by yourself."
No you did.
His face lights up suddenly.
"But, me taking care of you ... It feels like a dream."
He taunting me, I know it.
"I thought you'd leave me," he says lowly, "but now you'll stay, you'll be mine now."
A hell of my own making. | |
[WP]: You hate this one guy in particular. You also know witchcraft. So you cast a curse to slowly destroy the thing he loves the most. As time passes on, you find that nothing has changed, but you are starting to get sick. | "Hahahahahahaha!" Laughter filled the hospital room, "you got to be kidding me. Holy crap, that horrendously backfired." Jake was sitting in front of me with his face in his hands.
Jake and I have always been rivals. Well not always, I actually I don't think he sees it that way. Come to think of it I'm quite positive.
"Well I'm not, I heard you were dying. I didn't fucking see you for 5 months and suddenly you resurface looking like Smeagol."
He removed his head from his hands and looked at me, obviously holding back tears. So weak and frail. I'm much stronger even in this state.
"Well" I said: "that has more to do with your expectations than mine, I figured you'd be dead right now, or at least emotionally crippled. Yet here we are. I figured my illness was karma come knocking. But no, you actually love me!"
His face turned to anger. "So what!? Is that so weird? We spend years tormenting eachother. I started looking forward to our bouts and eventually to seeing you."
I had to agree, he was the only one that actually challenged me. Everything and everyone has tried to take me down from countless peasants, knights, eventually soldiers and assassins to gigantic military operations and all were wiped away with a snap of my fingers and he was the only one to counter my spells. Not with any finesse but still.
"Well that's weird, I expected you to actually hate my guts, curse me in the in the middle of the night while thinking of how to stop me, always failing. I definitely didn't see this happening. Damn it."
Jake facepalmed. "You really thought you won everytime? I mean no one died after I arrived in your life. Most of your plans were stopped and the world flourished. I had millions of chances to end you and I didn't take them."
"Well that is your fault." I responded
"Fuck you."
"No fuck you."
I looked around, well this is it, my life is over because of one tiny factor.
"Can you cancel the spell?" Jake asked.
"Nope, unlike you I am good at my job. In all honesty I didn't see you countering an uncounterable spell with something so stupid."
"Well I didn't know you hated me so much."
"Hate, I hate you. No past tense, I'm still here."
I coughed and my vision blurred. This is probably it, not much left.
Minutes pass in silence, sometimes Jake sniffs, he looks broken. I feel kinda guilty, kinda stupid too.
"Well, if it counts for something, I tolerate you too. Being an evil overlord is kinda lonely. You were the one stable factor, I guess in time I grew fond of our battles too and now I feel stupid. We had a good run though." I coughed again and I felt my final moments nearing. "This is it I suppose. I am gonna haunt you, just so you know."
"I wouldn't expect anything else from you. Goodbye, Jonathan. I love you."
"Fuck you, that's sappy, jesus fuck, that is so dramatic, hahahah-" I coughed again and felt how I slipped away as I closed my eyes for the last time.
Weeks later as Jake stepped out of the shower and looked at his mirror covered in condensation, he smiled and brushed his teeth as he wiped away the words: "Fuck you."
| Brittle bones, purple bruises and a weakness that makes you fall to your knees and never give up.
What do you love you so much that the mere thought of it gone brings great agony?
It hurts, it really fucking hurts. So many bruises on my body. Black, purple and yellow. I'm a tapestry of my own making.
How do he do it? How did he deflect it so it would rebound? I sold my soul for what? A bout of disaster.
Allan wipes my forehead done. Everything he does feels deliberate and malicious.
"What do did you do?" he asks.
I say nothing. Of course he blames me for my afflictions.
My nose trickles with blood. He stares at the flow. Slow. Seeping.
He grabs another tissue, he puts it to my nose.
"Blow," he says.
I grit my teeth.
"Blow," he repeats.
Nothing. I will say nothing you vile piece of excrement.
"Blow," he intones.
"And then what?" I rasp through a crushed wind-pipe, "You'll make me regret it?"
He punches my nose gruffily with the tissue.
"Oh, you did that already by yourself."
No you did.
His face lights up suddenly.
"But, me taking care of you ... It feels like a dream."
He taunting me, I know it.
"I thought you'd leave me," he says lowly, "but now you'll stay, you'll be mine now."
A hell of my own making. | |
[WP]: You hate this one guy in particular. You also know witchcraft. So you cast a curse to slowly destroy the thing he loves the most. As time passes on, you find that nothing has changed, but you are starting to get sick. | The old ones had banished the practice of malevolent spells centuries ago, so a curse of this nature was a rare find indeed. It wasn't perfect - but I had a hunch it would do what needed to be done. Immediately, I began to clear the table. Bowls, half full of gruel, clattered to the floor. I spread the curse scroll out across the table.
A feeling I hadn't felt in months rushed through my body in waves.
Hope.
Leaping onto the rickety chair, I took a moment to close my eyes and focus. I could barely hear the cold drops of water dropping from the cellar ceiling over the sound of my own heartbeat. Carefully, I began to recite the curse.
A sound.
Footsteps?
He was home. I had to work quickly.
I was halfway through the reading when the familiar clinking of keys entering a padlock echoed through the chamber. Panicking, I began to rush my words. I might not get this chance again.
I raised my thumb to my mouth and bit down as hard as I could. It took all the willpower I could muster not to wail out in agony. I was shaking so much that I wasn't sure that the pentagram I had drawn would seal the curse.
Thankfully, just as the sound of the hatch opening reached my ears, the curse scroll began to emit its unmistakable purple sparks. I quickly stood, and ran back to my shackles, fastening myself in. Just as the curse scroll smoldered into nothingness, I saw *his* figure emerge from the stairway.
I pray my decay is swift.
Perhaps now I will finally be free of this place.
| Brittle bones, purple bruises and a weakness that makes you fall to your knees and never give up.
What do you love you so much that the mere thought of it gone brings great agony?
It hurts, it really fucking hurts. So many bruises on my body. Black, purple and yellow. I'm a tapestry of my own making.
How do he do it? How did he deflect it so it would rebound? I sold my soul for what? A bout of disaster.
Allan wipes my forehead done. Everything he does feels deliberate and malicious.
"What do did you do?" he asks.
I say nothing. Of course he blames me for my afflictions.
My nose trickles with blood. He stares at the flow. Slow. Seeping.
He grabs another tissue, he puts it to my nose.
"Blow," he says.
I grit my teeth.
"Blow," he repeats.
Nothing. I will say nothing you vile piece of excrement.
"Blow," he intones.
"And then what?" I rasp through a crushed wind-pipe, "You'll make me regret it?"
He punches my nose gruffily with the tissue.
"Oh, you did that already by yourself."
No you did.
His face lights up suddenly.
"But, me taking care of you ... It feels like a dream."
He taunting me, I know it.
"I thought you'd leave me," he says lowly, "but now you'll stay, you'll be mine now."
A hell of my own making. |
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.