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[deleted] | [WP] “You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.” | “You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”
Clark had the cellphone held out at arm's length as though he thought it might explode at any moment. Gathered in a circle around him we all began to breathe again, and after a moment the circle broke into several smaller groups of whispering, cursing, frightened survivors. Henry took the phone out back and smashed it into pieces with a cinder block. Clark had been sure to switch the device to speakerphone mode before making the call, but we watched him with suspicion for hours afterwards anyway, and did not let him take a shift that night.
\#
In the morning we moved on. The billboard by the gas station had read something like *Atmos Tires: the last word in grip!* when we had staggered into the town two days prior, still numb from losing Maggie, but now *Why leave? Stay home and seek shelter!* was emblazoned across it in that font Ethan had described as too-friendly, sickly-sweet. Poor Ethan. Without him we would never have realized how to keep ourselves safe from the Message. He was the first of us to see clearly how it worked, but that understanding had not saved him. In the end he had still screamed and clawed at his former friends until they gunned him down like an animal.
We passed a smoldering book bonfire on our way back towards the highway. I chuckled a little in spite of myself, thinking how appalled I would have been only a couple of months ago at the idea of burning a book. Sarah was my info partner for the day – we moved as one to check the charred remnants. A copy of *The Hobbit* was lying a little away from the bonfire, its cover burned away to reveal what should have been one of the most recognizable openings in the English canon. It read: *In a hole in the ground there lived a Hobbit. He was happy in his hole, seeking shelter from harm.* | "Oh *shit*"
In stillness, I am. The memories of those I cared about matter no more. In the shadows, I am safe. Outside the street lights, I'll live.
The fires glow with a calling; its colors yearn for a soul to ignite. Its a malevolent beckoning many answer. Burn bright; burn a light on this night.. alight our homes, our lives, because it will all be gone tonight.
An equal blight affects us all. The shackles of man will weigh none down. An equal might affects us all tonight.
A shiver finds its way down my spine. The ember snow continues to grow.
Is this my right? *This* is right?! To witness the ember glow flow to my shadows and break my disguise?!! This crevice will no longer due... I must go; I must keep going.
I cannot cry; I must survive. I must find.. hope. |
[deleted] | [WP] “You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.” | "Stop calling, dad," I said quietly. "Nobody is coming for us."
My father hung up the phone and sighed, "I have to keep trying, Michael. If there's even a chance that they'll answer..."
I used my finger to peek out from the blinds at the street. This wasn't how I was expecting the zombie apocalypse to go. I'd seen every movie, read every book, obsessed over the TV shows, and I can guarantee you that nobody was more prepared for a zombies to life scenario more than I. But this... Nobody had ever written this. This was a different story entirely.
"Michael..." My step-mom called out as she wandered the streets. My eyes welled up as I watched her wander around. "Tom?" She called out. My dad joined me at the window and sighed, "Are you absolutely sure she's one of them?" He asked. "I'm sure of it," I replied. "Watch this." I added as I produced my phone and dialed her. The two of us watched her jump, startled as the device went off. She reached into her pocket and pull her phone out and stared at it for several seconds before throwing it on the ground and continuing on down the road. My dad raised a hand to his mouth.
"Tom? Michael? Where are you?"
"How did you know she would do that?" My dad choked out. "I've been texting my friend Kyle. He and his folks are still alive too. Kyle found out that these things don't know what to do with technology at all." I let the blinds slide back into place and sat down against the wall. "They're masters of emotional manipulation. There's almost no way to tell them apart from your loved ones. But ask them to change the channel, adjust the A/C, or make a phone call and they're completely clueless."
My dad stood up and called 911 again. I could hear the automated voice from where I sat.
“You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”
"Dad. It's no use." I repeated.
He remained silent.
"Tom? Where are you?" We heard her call again from outside. My dad turned and walked away. "Hey," I called after him, "Where are you going?"
"I can't listen to her voice anymore," he replied and disappeared into the next room. I rested my head against the wall trying to ignore the hunger as I wracked my brain for solutions. My thoughts were interrupted by the beeping of the keypad on the back door. We had installed it originally because my step-mom could never keep track of her key, but since this whole mess started it worked as a security measure against those things pretending to be our family.
I heard the door open and Uncle Bruce appeared with groceries in his hands. "Food!" I called out and pushed away from the wall. He smiled at me and moved for the kitchen. "Where did you find food, Bruce?" I asked in a bewildered tone as I started pulling chicken and beef from the bags.
"Nevermind that, Mikey," he replied. "Turn the stove on for me." I obliged.
About a half hour later the house smelled delicious. My stomach roared as Bruce set out the plates, "Call your dad." I turned my head, but didn't take my eyes off of the cooked chicken, "Dad, dinner!" I started cutting into the bird, "He smells it," I assured my uncle. After a few minutes Bruce looked over my shoulder and then cast me a worried glance, "You sure he's coming?"
"He heard Lynn again," I said with a mouth full of food.
"Oh, Jesus," He muttered. "She's back?"
"Yeah..." I responded solemnly. "I think maybe he just needs some alone time."
"Micheal!" I heard my dad's voice.
From *outside.*
My uncle and I locked eyes before quickly moving to the kitchen window and turning the blinds open. He looked in at us from the kitchen window, "You were wrong about Lynn! She's fine!"
I felt my heart sink as she joined him at the window.
"Son, she just thought her phone was acting up! Complete misunderstanding!"
I clenched my teeth and felt my uncle's hand on my shoulder.
"Mikey..." He said. "I know." I responded from the back of my throat.
Bruce closed the blinds let his forehead collide with the wall.
"Come on Michael," my father called to me. "Just... Just let us in, okay?"
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I get a 15 minute break at work aside from my usual lunch break. I pick a prompt, spend a couple of minutes storyboarding, and then do as much as I can within the confines of my break. If you enjoyed this, consider following me at r/A15MinuteMythos
[Part 2](https://old.reddit.com/r/A15MinuteMythos/comments/is3fx7/wp_youve_reached_911_this_service_is_no_longer/) | "Oh *shit*"
In stillness, I am. The memories of those I cared about matter no more. In the shadows, I am safe. Outside the street lights, I'll live.
The fires glow with a calling; its colors yearn for a soul to ignite. Its a malevolent beckoning many answer. Burn bright; burn a light on this night.. alight our homes, our lives, because it will all be gone tonight.
An equal blight affects us all. The shackles of man will weigh none down. An equal might affects us all tonight.
A shiver finds its way down my spine. The ember snow continues to grow.
Is this my right? *This* is right?! To witness the ember glow flow to my shadows and break my disguise?!! This crevice will no longer due... I must go; I must keep going.
I cannot cry; I must survive. I must find.. hope. |
[deleted] | [WP] “You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.” | The apocalypse wasn't really that quick.
It was a slow, painful death.
The perfect disease. A fungal infection that traveled by air. It took over hosts and turned them into mobile vectors actively seeking more.
Of course, the world did not take this lying down. A battery of phages, antifungals, all were fired. But that didn't solve the problem. It was in the air. In the water. Everywhere.
And of course, what people commonly referred to as zombies. Soon thereafter, there was a run on biochemical gear, gas masks, hazmat suits, body armour, firearms, survival equipment...
The rich and powerful surrounded themselves in luxury fortresses and doctors. The average citizen sought shelter where they could as the government clamped down on movement. But still, it spread. First, the Eastern countries. Wetlands and mild environments, combined with cramped citizenry. The perfect storm.
"Breaking news, as India and China both begin extreme measures-Indian government officials claim these measures are absolutely necessary-shocking footage shows field executions and massacres in the PRC-"
The news shocked the world. Fear grew. The West determined the East would not die in vain. They learned, and they moved. First, entire communities, to less populated zones. This wasn't hard. The desert was already where many fled to.
Switzerland closed it's borders, as many rushed for the fortress-state.
Soon, Europe had hidden away, turning back everyone out of fear.
In the Middle East, the fungus struggled under the already authoritarian government. But the citizens chafed against the new measures, not all of which were well regarded. Then, rumors of the various rich fleeing shattered the grip. The countries devolved into anarchy as the fungus blazed through the deserts.
The fungus evolved. The deserts were no longer safe. Unrest swept the world.
And then, a chance infection at the perfect time.
First, New York. Then, as the fungus spread across the Eastern Seaboard, the American government began to fold.
Every day is a new hell. For one family trapped in the ruin of NYC, the laughter of late night talk shows are replaced by chatter of rifles, and the ambient traffic now the whirring of biohazard filters.
Every so often, as a little futile gesture, Boris pulls out his Samsung smartphone, and dials 911. The cell towers are still up, but there is no response. Always, the same answer.
*“You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”*
Yesterday, one of the office buildings came down. Dropped hundreds of vectors into the streets. Hardly recognizable as human.
Blake never wanted this. She joined the National Guard for the benefits, she never expected this...
Every night outside the wire she would have no problems admitting, she nearly pissed herself. For the first few weeks, anyway. Then, it became a dull fear. Then, nothing at all. | [TW : child abandonment]
[writing on mobile so formatting sucks]
“You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”
She giggled, pleased to have made some noise with the phone in her hand. She pressed the screen again.
“You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”
She didn't understand what the foreign, robotic words meant. She barely understood her mother when she spoke. Babbling softly under her breath, she leaned back against her mother's purse, fiddling with the blue and white tattered blanket under her. She made a face when dirt got on her fingers.
All around her, grass stretched as far as she could see. In the distance, some buildings suggested a city. She wondered what could be going on there. For a moment, she felt a wave of longing for her house, and her bed, and for her mom to pick her up and sing to her.
"Mommy?" she called out, feeling a bubble of fear and despair raise in her. "Mommy!"
She pressed the phone again, feeling somewhat comforted by the voice.
“You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”
“You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”
She pressed it again, only to be faced with silence. She stared at it, her red face scrunched in concentration at the black screen. Again and again she pressed it, then she let out a wail and threw the useless phone away. It fell to the ground a few feet away from her.
Her eyes looked around, searching for her mom. She let out another scream of frustration and brought her tiny fists down on her knees.
All that could be heard in that silent field was her sobs, until eventually she tired herself out. The little girl laid on the blanket, clutched a corner in her hand, and fell asleep.
No one would be coming back for her. |
[deleted] | [WP] “You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.” | We'd stayed as long as we could.
So many phone calls. So many reasons for the calls over the years we'd been on the lines. Medical emergencies, gunshots, drunk drivers, one memorable little girl calling for someone to help her make Jell-O, the rapes, the arson, the all of it bloody and crying, and only some bright shining moments of beautiful human heroes.
No one had imagined the sky cracking open. The skittering flights of creatures that came in the first week. Still we stayed and answered the calls. No rapes, no arson anymore. Just medical dispatches, always the gunshots and, now poisonings too thanks to the stingers on the flying skyspawn...
Always the calls. So many calls. Still we stayed. The center was stocked with supplies so we stayed on the lines. More weeks passed and the creatures changed. Humanity cracked. Civilization cracked.
People calling now, just to hear voices of others. Certainly weren't any helplines we could refer them to, no one coming to drop off a hot meal for those without food. Just a quiet voice on the line, "We're sorry, I don't have anyone, but keep trying to apply pressure to the wound. .. ", "No, don't induce vomiting, what she swallowed will burn her airways... "
And then, finally, there was no reason to keep it up. No calls for three days for anyone. From anyone. Whatever it was, it was over.
I recorded the message in my calm, steady voice, "You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye."
I flipped the phone system switch to OUTGOING.
A final glance amongst my coworkers, and we headed out the doors to the nothing that was left. | [TW : child abandonment]
[writing on mobile so formatting sucks]
“You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”
She giggled, pleased to have made some noise with the phone in her hand. She pressed the screen again.
“You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”
She didn't understand what the foreign, robotic words meant. She barely understood her mother when she spoke. Babbling softly under her breath, she leaned back against her mother's purse, fiddling with the blue and white tattered blanket under her. She made a face when dirt got on her fingers.
All around her, grass stretched as far as she could see. In the distance, some buildings suggested a city. She wondered what could be going on there. For a moment, she felt a wave of longing for her house, and her bed, and for her mom to pick her up and sing to her.
"Mommy?" she called out, feeling a bubble of fear and despair raise in her. "Mommy!"
She pressed the phone again, feeling somewhat comforted by the voice.
“You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”
“You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”
She pressed it again, only to be faced with silence. She stared at it, her red face scrunched in concentration at the black screen. Again and again she pressed it, then she let out a wail and threw the useless phone away. It fell to the ground a few feet away from her.
Her eyes looked around, searching for her mom. She let out another scream of frustration and brought her tiny fists down on her knees.
All that could be heard in that silent field was her sobs, until eventually she tired herself out. The little girl laid on the blanket, clutched a corner in her hand, and fell asleep.
No one would be coming back for her. |
[deleted] | [WP] “You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.” | >**GENERATIONAL BLESSING, OR GENERATIONAL CURSE?**
I could taste the iron- the blood that was rising up the back of my throat. I could taste the *fear*.
*'You've reached 911...This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.'*
I tossed my phone aside. It was only dead weight at this point. Everyone I cared about I already had with me- and each of us were jogging as fast as we reasonably could, directly away from the city.
Looming over us in the night sky- it wasn't the moon, like it should have been. A massive space ship was half inside of our atmosphere and half out- no matter what bombs, missiles, lasers, or bullets of our making were sent at it, it didn't so much as cause a crack in the surface.
We had no offense that could touch it- but, at the very least, I did have *my* secret weapon.
For generations, members of my family had been gifted some kind of...divine guidance. It was the chill down our spine, ten minutes before the car crash. Or, like this morning, it was a smudge in the mirror that told us to *run*.
We were lucky- or, I guess, blessed- and that blessing had given me the opportunity to gather together my closest friends and family and make a break for it, just mere minutes before the invasion really began.
But- I could see the fatigue building already. Some of us were older, or out of shape- and, unfortunately, the alien technology had wiped out all of our cars. How, I didn't know- and none of us had the foresight to grab bicycles.
Just as we were beginning to reach exhaustion, well beyond the outskirts of the city, my heart skipped a beat.
There was an squad of aliens not even a hundred feet ahead of us- they had appeared out of thin air.
*Shit!* I turned on my heel and prepared to sprint off the road, into the woods- but one of them already had a hand on my shoulder.
All of us were forced to halt. My breathing was shallow- I didn't know if I had enough strength to fight-
"Hey!" Greeted one of the aliens. It was tall, vaguely humanoid, and its smile revealed rows of sharp teeth. "Glad you got my message this morning."
*What?*
"Sorry it was so vague, I was in a rush. Glad to finally meet you, Grandson of the famous Voyageur!"
-----------------------------------------------------
I'm experimenting with Interactive Fiction on my [subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/nystorm_writes/) , if you wanted to try a light RP as a cultist in a war-torn world, come say hi! | [TW : child abandonment]
[writing on mobile so formatting sucks]
“You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”
She giggled, pleased to have made some noise with the phone in her hand. She pressed the screen again.
“You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”
She didn't understand what the foreign, robotic words meant. She barely understood her mother when she spoke. Babbling softly under her breath, she leaned back against her mother's purse, fiddling with the blue and white tattered blanket under her. She made a face when dirt got on her fingers.
All around her, grass stretched as far as she could see. In the distance, some buildings suggested a city. She wondered what could be going on there. For a moment, she felt a wave of longing for her house, and her bed, and for her mom to pick her up and sing to her.
"Mommy?" she called out, feeling a bubble of fear and despair raise in her. "Mommy!"
She pressed the phone again, feeling somewhat comforted by the voice.
“You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”
“You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”
She pressed it again, only to be faced with silence. She stared at it, her red face scrunched in concentration at the black screen. Again and again she pressed it, then she let out a wail and threw the useless phone away. It fell to the ground a few feet away from her.
Her eyes looked around, searching for her mom. She let out another scream of frustration and brought her tiny fists down on her knees.
All that could be heard in that silent field was her sobs, until eventually she tired herself out. The little girl laid on the blanket, clutched a corner in her hand, and fell asleep.
No one would be coming back for her. |
[deleted] | [WP] “You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.” | We'd stayed as long as we could.
So many phone calls. So many reasons for the calls over the years we'd been on the lines. Medical emergencies, gunshots, drunk drivers, one memorable little girl calling for someone to help her make Jell-O, the rapes, the arson, the all of it bloody and crying, and only some bright shining moments of beautiful human heroes.
No one had imagined the sky cracking open. The skittering flights of creatures that came in the first week. Still we stayed and answered the calls. No rapes, no arson anymore. Just medical dispatches, always the gunshots and, now poisonings too thanks to the stingers on the flying skyspawn...
Always the calls. So many calls. Still we stayed. The center was stocked with supplies so we stayed on the lines. More weeks passed and the creatures changed. Humanity cracked. Civilization cracked.
People calling now, just to hear voices of others. Certainly weren't any helplines we could refer them to, no one coming to drop off a hot meal for those without food. Just a quiet voice on the line, "We're sorry, I don't have anyone, but keep trying to apply pressure to the wound. .. ", "No, don't induce vomiting, what she swallowed will burn her airways... "
And then, finally, there was no reason to keep it up. No calls for three days for anyone. From anyone. Whatever it was, it was over.
I recorded the message in my calm, steady voice, "You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye."
I flipped the phone system switch to OUTGOING.
A final glance amongst my coworkers, and we headed out the doors to the nothing that was left. | The apocalypse wasn't really that quick.
It was a slow, painful death.
The perfect disease. A fungal infection that traveled by air. It took over hosts and turned them into mobile vectors actively seeking more.
Of course, the world did not take this lying down. A battery of phages, antifungals, all were fired. But that didn't solve the problem. It was in the air. In the water. Everywhere.
And of course, what people commonly referred to as zombies. Soon thereafter, there was a run on biochemical gear, gas masks, hazmat suits, body armour, firearms, survival equipment...
The rich and powerful surrounded themselves in luxury fortresses and doctors. The average citizen sought shelter where they could as the government clamped down on movement. But still, it spread. First, the Eastern countries. Wetlands and mild environments, combined with cramped citizenry. The perfect storm.
"Breaking news, as India and China both begin extreme measures-Indian government officials claim these measures are absolutely necessary-shocking footage shows field executions and massacres in the PRC-"
The news shocked the world. Fear grew. The West determined the East would not die in vain. They learned, and they moved. First, entire communities, to less populated zones. This wasn't hard. The desert was already where many fled to.
Switzerland closed it's borders, as many rushed for the fortress-state.
Soon, Europe had hidden away, turning back everyone out of fear.
In the Middle East, the fungus struggled under the already authoritarian government. But the citizens chafed against the new measures, not all of which were well regarded. Then, rumors of the various rich fleeing shattered the grip. The countries devolved into anarchy as the fungus blazed through the deserts.
The fungus evolved. The deserts were no longer safe. Unrest swept the world.
And then, a chance infection at the perfect time.
First, New York. Then, as the fungus spread across the Eastern Seaboard, the American government began to fold.
Every day is a new hell. For one family trapped in the ruin of NYC, the laughter of late night talk shows are replaced by chatter of rifles, and the ambient traffic now the whirring of biohazard filters.
Every so often, as a little futile gesture, Boris pulls out his Samsung smartphone, and dials 911. The cell towers are still up, but there is no response. Always, the same answer.
*“You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”*
Yesterday, one of the office buildings came down. Dropped hundreds of vectors into the streets. Hardly recognizable as human.
Blake never wanted this. She joined the National Guard for the benefits, she never expected this...
Every night outside the wire she would have no problems admitting, she nearly pissed herself. For the first few weeks, anyway. Then, it became a dull fear. Then, nothing at all. |
[deleted] | [WP] “You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.” | >**GENERATIONAL BLESSING, OR GENERATIONAL CURSE?**
I could taste the iron- the blood that was rising up the back of my throat. I could taste the *fear*.
*'You've reached 911...This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.'*
I tossed my phone aside. It was only dead weight at this point. Everyone I cared about I already had with me- and each of us were jogging as fast as we reasonably could, directly away from the city.
Looming over us in the night sky- it wasn't the moon, like it should have been. A massive space ship was half inside of our atmosphere and half out- no matter what bombs, missiles, lasers, or bullets of our making were sent at it, it didn't so much as cause a crack in the surface.
We had no offense that could touch it- but, at the very least, I did have *my* secret weapon.
For generations, members of my family had been gifted some kind of...divine guidance. It was the chill down our spine, ten minutes before the car crash. Or, like this morning, it was a smudge in the mirror that told us to *run*.
We were lucky- or, I guess, blessed- and that blessing had given me the opportunity to gather together my closest friends and family and make a break for it, just mere minutes before the invasion really began.
But- I could see the fatigue building already. Some of us were older, or out of shape- and, unfortunately, the alien technology had wiped out all of our cars. How, I didn't know- and none of us had the foresight to grab bicycles.
Just as we were beginning to reach exhaustion, well beyond the outskirts of the city, my heart skipped a beat.
There was an squad of aliens not even a hundred feet ahead of us- they had appeared out of thin air.
*Shit!* I turned on my heel and prepared to sprint off the road, into the woods- but one of them already had a hand on my shoulder.
All of us were forced to halt. My breathing was shallow- I didn't know if I had enough strength to fight-
"Hey!" Greeted one of the aliens. It was tall, vaguely humanoid, and its smile revealed rows of sharp teeth. "Glad you got my message this morning."
*What?*
"Sorry it was so vague, I was in a rush. Glad to finally meet you, Grandson of the famous Voyageur!"
-----------------------------------------------------
I'm experimenting with Interactive Fiction on my [subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/nystorm_writes/) , if you wanted to try a light RP as a cultist in a war-torn world, come say hi! | The apocalypse wasn't really that quick.
It was a slow, painful death.
The perfect disease. A fungal infection that traveled by air. It took over hosts and turned them into mobile vectors actively seeking more.
Of course, the world did not take this lying down. A battery of phages, antifungals, all were fired. But that didn't solve the problem. It was in the air. In the water. Everywhere.
And of course, what people commonly referred to as zombies. Soon thereafter, there was a run on biochemical gear, gas masks, hazmat suits, body armour, firearms, survival equipment...
The rich and powerful surrounded themselves in luxury fortresses and doctors. The average citizen sought shelter where they could as the government clamped down on movement. But still, it spread. First, the Eastern countries. Wetlands and mild environments, combined with cramped citizenry. The perfect storm.
"Breaking news, as India and China both begin extreme measures-Indian government officials claim these measures are absolutely necessary-shocking footage shows field executions and massacres in the PRC-"
The news shocked the world. Fear grew. The West determined the East would not die in vain. They learned, and they moved. First, entire communities, to less populated zones. This wasn't hard. The desert was already where many fled to.
Switzerland closed it's borders, as many rushed for the fortress-state.
Soon, Europe had hidden away, turning back everyone out of fear.
In the Middle East, the fungus struggled under the already authoritarian government. But the citizens chafed against the new measures, not all of which were well regarded. Then, rumors of the various rich fleeing shattered the grip. The countries devolved into anarchy as the fungus blazed through the deserts.
The fungus evolved. The deserts were no longer safe. Unrest swept the world.
And then, a chance infection at the perfect time.
First, New York. Then, as the fungus spread across the Eastern Seaboard, the American government began to fold.
Every day is a new hell. For one family trapped in the ruin of NYC, the laughter of late night talk shows are replaced by chatter of rifles, and the ambient traffic now the whirring of biohazard filters.
Every so often, as a little futile gesture, Boris pulls out his Samsung smartphone, and dials 911. The cell towers are still up, but there is no response. Always, the same answer.
*“You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”*
Yesterday, one of the office buildings came down. Dropped hundreds of vectors into the streets. Hardly recognizable as human.
Blake never wanted this. She joined the National Guard for the benefits, she never expected this...
Every night outside the wire she would have no problems admitting, she nearly pissed herself. For the first few weeks, anyway. Then, it became a dull fear. Then, nothing at all. |
[deleted] | [WP] “You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.” | "Seek shelter.." My voice choked as I stared at the phone in my hand. What shelter? My world which had revolved around the small black item was gone and I hadn't seen it coming. There had been no news alerts. No warning had rung out. It had come while people ate with one another, watched films. Some had laughed, others argued. I had been scrolling lazily through my phone waiting for my life to begin. Funny how truly evil moments come at the least expected times. Maybe that's why they stand out. They dispel the comfortable myth and replace it with agony.
My entire body shook as I gasped for air, my lungs on fire as if having run a marathon. It was the air that made it hard to breathe. My eyes burning from unshed tears and heat which radiated around me. Panic setting in to steal every potentially helpful thought before it could form.
"I can't fall apart.." I wispered to myself even as I lifted my gaze while dropping my phone. It felt like a million pounds crushing me in place as it bounced once on the pavement before laying still. Exhaling slowly I tried to force myself to be steady. Years of meditation and breathing exercises to fight panic attacks would not be for nothing. My pessimism that nothing could last forever was reality. I wasn't paranoid though I wished more than ever I had been.
The vision before me was hard to accept. Buildings burning to the ground as smoke rose through air. As I focused I realized how much had been blocked out by the initial shock. Screaming. So many people were screaming. Others were crying; but it was the broken sobs of someone who had lost everything and those in agony who were being crushed and pined by debris. Every person was suddenly faced with the truth that we had lost everything we called normal. Our lives were over. Our dreams a distant memory. No one had cared. No one was coming to our rescue. We were on our own and to survive meant to think and react.. in what way? I didn't know how to finish that thought I realized taking a shaky step forward.
Everything hurt in that moment as I scaned my body. I was covered in soot and scrapes. Running my palms over my arms felt sticky and damp. "Of course I'm bleeding." I said as someone bounced off of me as they ran. Their eyes wild as if panic was all they had left. My own legs buckled against the impact but I managed to stay up, steady.
The chaos was every where. Nothing looked right. I passed broken glass, abandoned vehicles and people left for dead in the street. Unlucky ones who had been too close to the explosions. Maybe they were actually lucky. Afterall, they were free while I stumbled forward trying to see past carnage.
"Help me..!" A muffled voice called through the rubble. Yet where the voice was, I couldn't see. They sounded frightened and hurt.
"Where are you?" I offered squinting as my eyes demanded relief. Yet no sound came. No response came and so I kept moving.
It felt like a scene out of a doomsday film. Only without the happy ending. No one was surviving this. No one was coming to save the day. Bombs had fallen, war declared in bloodshed and pain. It had been a massive attack. I didn't know if there was somewhere untainted by the brutality of the day. I didn't know what tomorrow would bring. The only thing I had left was to keep moving. To escape the burning city because each breath felt harder to take. A rough cough ripped through my chest as I gasped for air while sucking in more fumes and dust particles.
The reality of the situation was not lost on me. The bombs didn't kill me but the air probably would. I laughed before seizing up in another coughing fit. No matter though, I would keep going until I earned my freedom. No matter what that meant. |
''Let me drive'' Tom said to me and I let him drive.
15 minutes later the truck is smoking and we are stranded in the middle of nowhere. We walk for half an hour and then we take a break. I lay on the ground and I watch the clear night sky.
Tom comes up to me, ''I think I saw something there.''
I get up and I don’t see anything but trees and then sudden light appears in the sky. A ball of flame coming down and Tom nudges me and points the different location with his finger. It’s some sort of green beam of light right on top of the city.
''There must be a gas station on our way.'' I say and we start running.
The gas station seems abandoned but the lights are on. Our cellphones don’t work so we use the landline and we try to call our family but we fail. Then, we call 911.
''You have reached 911. All citizens are advised to seek shelter.''
Tom starts to panic and I try to calm him down. If we try to walk back to the city it could take hours before we get there.
''We can take the car that is across the road.'' I say to Tom.
But he is not listening to me. He is mumbling and shaking his head and pacing around the gas station.
I ignore him for a moment and I hotwire the car then I honk twice. Tom looks at me for a moment and then he runs into the forest.
''What the fuck is he doing?'' I say to myself.
I get out of the car and I go after him.
-----------------------------------------------
-Thank you for reading the story- |
[deleted] | [WP] “You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.” | We'd stayed as long as we could.
So many phone calls. So many reasons for the calls over the years we'd been on the lines. Medical emergencies, gunshots, drunk drivers, one memorable little girl calling for someone to help her make Jell-O, the rapes, the arson, the all of it bloody and crying, and only some bright shining moments of beautiful human heroes.
No one had imagined the sky cracking open. The skittering flights of creatures that came in the first week. Still we stayed and answered the calls. No rapes, no arson anymore. Just medical dispatches, always the gunshots and, now poisonings too thanks to the stingers on the flying skyspawn...
Always the calls. So many calls. Still we stayed. The center was stocked with supplies so we stayed on the lines. More weeks passed and the creatures changed. Humanity cracked. Civilization cracked.
People calling now, just to hear voices of others. Certainly weren't any helplines we could refer them to, no one coming to drop off a hot meal for those without food. Just a quiet voice on the line, "We're sorry, I don't have anyone, but keep trying to apply pressure to the wound. .. ", "No, don't induce vomiting, what she swallowed will burn her airways... "
And then, finally, there was no reason to keep it up. No calls for three days for anyone. From anyone. Whatever it was, it was over.
I recorded the message in my calm, steady voice, "You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye."
I flipped the phone system switch to OUTGOING.
A final glance amongst my coworkers, and we headed out the doors to the nothing that was left. |
''Let me drive'' Tom said to me and I let him drive.
15 minutes later the truck is smoking and we are stranded in the middle of nowhere. We walk for half an hour and then we take a break. I lay on the ground and I watch the clear night sky.
Tom comes up to me, ''I think I saw something there.''
I get up and I don’t see anything but trees and then sudden light appears in the sky. A ball of flame coming down and Tom nudges me and points the different location with his finger. It’s some sort of green beam of light right on top of the city.
''There must be a gas station on our way.'' I say and we start running.
The gas station seems abandoned but the lights are on. Our cellphones don’t work so we use the landline and we try to call our family but we fail. Then, we call 911.
''You have reached 911. All citizens are advised to seek shelter.''
Tom starts to panic and I try to calm him down. If we try to walk back to the city it could take hours before we get there.
''We can take the car that is across the road.'' I say to Tom.
But he is not listening to me. He is mumbling and shaking his head and pacing around the gas station.
I ignore him for a moment and I hotwire the car then I honk twice. Tom looks at me for a moment and then he runs into the forest.
''What the fuck is he doing?'' I say to myself.
I get out of the car and I go after him.
-----------------------------------------------
-Thank you for reading the story- |
[deleted] | [WP] “You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.” | >**GENERATIONAL BLESSING, OR GENERATIONAL CURSE?**
I could taste the iron- the blood that was rising up the back of my throat. I could taste the *fear*.
*'You've reached 911...This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.'*
I tossed my phone aside. It was only dead weight at this point. Everyone I cared about I already had with me- and each of us were jogging as fast as we reasonably could, directly away from the city.
Looming over us in the night sky- it wasn't the moon, like it should have been. A massive space ship was half inside of our atmosphere and half out- no matter what bombs, missiles, lasers, or bullets of our making were sent at it, it didn't so much as cause a crack in the surface.
We had no offense that could touch it- but, at the very least, I did have *my* secret weapon.
For generations, members of my family had been gifted some kind of...divine guidance. It was the chill down our spine, ten minutes before the car crash. Or, like this morning, it was a smudge in the mirror that told us to *run*.
We were lucky- or, I guess, blessed- and that blessing had given me the opportunity to gather together my closest friends and family and make a break for it, just mere minutes before the invasion really began.
But- I could see the fatigue building already. Some of us were older, or out of shape- and, unfortunately, the alien technology had wiped out all of our cars. How, I didn't know- and none of us had the foresight to grab bicycles.
Just as we were beginning to reach exhaustion, well beyond the outskirts of the city, my heart skipped a beat.
There was an squad of aliens not even a hundred feet ahead of us- they had appeared out of thin air.
*Shit!* I turned on my heel and prepared to sprint off the road, into the woods- but one of them already had a hand on my shoulder.
All of us were forced to halt. My breathing was shallow- I didn't know if I had enough strength to fight-
"Hey!" Greeted one of the aliens. It was tall, vaguely humanoid, and its smile revealed rows of sharp teeth. "Glad you got my message this morning."
*What?*
"Sorry it was so vague, I was in a rush. Glad to finally meet you, Grandson of the famous Voyageur!"
-----------------------------------------------------
I'm experimenting with Interactive Fiction on my [subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/nystorm_writes/) , if you wanted to try a light RP as a cultist in a war-torn world, come say hi! |
''Let me drive'' Tom said to me and I let him drive.
15 minutes later the truck is smoking and we are stranded in the middle of nowhere. We walk for half an hour and then we take a break. I lay on the ground and I watch the clear night sky.
Tom comes up to me, ''I think I saw something there.''
I get up and I don’t see anything but trees and then sudden light appears in the sky. A ball of flame coming down and Tom nudges me and points the different location with his finger. It’s some sort of green beam of light right on top of the city.
''There must be a gas station on our way.'' I say and we start running.
The gas station seems abandoned but the lights are on. Our cellphones don’t work so we use the landline and we try to call our family but we fail. Then, we call 911.
''You have reached 911. All citizens are advised to seek shelter.''
Tom starts to panic and I try to calm him down. If we try to walk back to the city it could take hours before we get there.
''We can take the car that is across the road.'' I say to Tom.
But he is not listening to me. He is mumbling and shaking his head and pacing around the gas station.
I ignore him for a moment and I hotwire the car then I honk twice. Tom looks at me for a moment and then he runs into the forest.
''What the fuck is he doing?'' I say to myself.
I get out of the car and I go after him.
-----------------------------------------------
-Thank you for reading the story- |
[deleted] | [WP] “You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.” | "Stop calling, dad," I said quietly. "Nobody is coming for us."
My father hung up the phone and sighed, "I have to keep trying, Michael. If there's even a chance that they'll answer..."
I used my finger to peek out from the blinds at the street. This wasn't how I was expecting the zombie apocalypse to go. I'd seen every movie, read every book, obsessed over the TV shows, and I can guarantee you that nobody was more prepared for a zombies to life scenario more than I. But this... Nobody had ever written this. This was a different story entirely.
"Michael..." My step-mom called out as she wandered the streets. My eyes welled up as I watched her wander around. "Tom?" She called out. My dad joined me at the window and sighed, "Are you absolutely sure she's one of them?" He asked. "I'm sure of it," I replied. "Watch this." I added as I produced my phone and dialed her. The two of us watched her jump, startled as the device went off. She reached into her pocket and pull her phone out and stared at it for several seconds before throwing it on the ground and continuing on down the road. My dad raised a hand to his mouth.
"Tom? Michael? Where are you?"
"How did you know she would do that?" My dad choked out. "I've been texting my friend Kyle. He and his folks are still alive too. Kyle found out that these things don't know what to do with technology at all." I let the blinds slide back into place and sat down against the wall. "They're masters of emotional manipulation. There's almost no way to tell them apart from your loved ones. But ask them to change the channel, adjust the A/C, or make a phone call and they're completely clueless."
My dad stood up and called 911 again. I could hear the automated voice from where I sat.
“You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”
"Dad. It's no use." I repeated.
He remained silent.
"Tom? Where are you?" We heard her call again from outside. My dad turned and walked away. "Hey," I called after him, "Where are you going?"
"I can't listen to her voice anymore," he replied and disappeared into the next room. I rested my head against the wall trying to ignore the hunger as I wracked my brain for solutions. My thoughts were interrupted by the beeping of the keypad on the back door. We had installed it originally because my step-mom could never keep track of her key, but since this whole mess started it worked as a security measure against those things pretending to be our family.
I heard the door open and Uncle Bruce appeared with groceries in his hands. "Food!" I called out and pushed away from the wall. He smiled at me and moved for the kitchen. "Where did you find food, Bruce?" I asked in a bewildered tone as I started pulling chicken and beef from the bags.
"Nevermind that, Mikey," he replied. "Turn the stove on for me." I obliged.
About a half hour later the house smelled delicious. My stomach roared as Bruce set out the plates, "Call your dad." I turned my head, but didn't take my eyes off of the cooked chicken, "Dad, dinner!" I started cutting into the bird, "He smells it," I assured my uncle. After a few minutes Bruce looked over my shoulder and then cast me a worried glance, "You sure he's coming?"
"He heard Lynn again," I said with a mouth full of food.
"Oh, Jesus," He muttered. "She's back?"
"Yeah..." I responded solemnly. "I think maybe he just needs some alone time."
"Micheal!" I heard my dad's voice.
From *outside.*
My uncle and I locked eyes before quickly moving to the kitchen window and turning the blinds open. He looked in at us from the kitchen window, "You were wrong about Lynn! She's fine!"
I felt my heart sink as she joined him at the window.
"Son, she just thought her phone was acting up! Complete misunderstanding!"
I clenched my teeth and felt my uncle's hand on my shoulder.
"Mikey..." He said. "I know." I responded from the back of my throat.
Bruce closed the blinds let his forehead collide with the wall.
"Come on Michael," my father called to me. "Just... Just let us in, okay?"
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I get a 15 minute break at work aside from my usual lunch break. I pick a prompt, spend a couple of minutes storyboarding, and then do as much as I can within the confines of my break. If you enjoyed this, consider following me at r/A15MinuteMythos
[Part 2](https://old.reddit.com/r/A15MinuteMythos/comments/is3fx7/wp_youve_reached_911_this_service_is_no_longer/) |
''Let me drive'' Tom said to me and I let him drive.
15 minutes later the truck is smoking and we are stranded in the middle of nowhere. We walk for half an hour and then we take a break. I lay on the ground and I watch the clear night sky.
Tom comes up to me, ''I think I saw something there.''
I get up and I don’t see anything but trees and then sudden light appears in the sky. A ball of flame coming down and Tom nudges me and points the different location with his finger. It’s some sort of green beam of light right on top of the city.
''There must be a gas station on our way.'' I say and we start running.
The gas station seems abandoned but the lights are on. Our cellphones don’t work so we use the landline and we try to call our family but we fail. Then, we call 911.
''You have reached 911. All citizens are advised to seek shelter.''
Tom starts to panic and I try to calm him down. If we try to walk back to the city it could take hours before we get there.
''We can take the car that is across the road.'' I say to Tom.
But he is not listening to me. He is mumbling and shaking his head and pacing around the gas station.
I ignore him for a moment and I hotwire the car then I honk twice. Tom looks at me for a moment and then he runs into the forest.
''What the fuck is he doing?'' I say to myself.
I get out of the car and I go after him.
-----------------------------------------------
-Thank you for reading the story- |
[deleted] | [WP] “You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.” | "Seek shelter.." My voice choked as I stared at the phone in my hand. What shelter? My world which had revolved around the small black item was gone and I hadn't seen it coming. There had been no news alerts. No warning had rung out. It had come while people ate with one another, watched films. Some had laughed, others argued. I had been scrolling lazily through my phone waiting for my life to begin. Funny how truly evil moments come at the least expected times. Maybe that's why they stand out. They dispel the comfortable myth and replace it with agony.
My entire body shook as I gasped for air, my lungs on fire as if having run a marathon. It was the air that made it hard to breathe. My eyes burning from unshed tears and heat which radiated around me. Panic setting in to steal every potentially helpful thought before it could form.
"I can't fall apart.." I wispered to myself even as I lifted my gaze while dropping my phone. It felt like a million pounds crushing me in place as it bounced once on the pavement before laying still. Exhaling slowly I tried to force myself to be steady. Years of meditation and breathing exercises to fight panic attacks would not be for nothing. My pessimism that nothing could last forever was reality. I wasn't paranoid though I wished more than ever I had been.
The vision before me was hard to accept. Buildings burning to the ground as smoke rose through air. As I focused I realized how much had been blocked out by the initial shock. Screaming. So many people were screaming. Others were crying; but it was the broken sobs of someone who had lost everything and those in agony who were being crushed and pined by debris. Every person was suddenly faced with the truth that we had lost everything we called normal. Our lives were over. Our dreams a distant memory. No one had cared. No one was coming to our rescue. We were on our own and to survive meant to think and react.. in what way? I didn't know how to finish that thought I realized taking a shaky step forward.
Everything hurt in that moment as I scaned my body. I was covered in soot and scrapes. Running my palms over my arms felt sticky and damp. "Of course I'm bleeding." I said as someone bounced off of me as they ran. Their eyes wild as if panic was all they had left. My own legs buckled against the impact but I managed to stay up, steady.
The chaos was every where. Nothing looked right. I passed broken glass, abandoned vehicles and people left for dead in the street. Unlucky ones who had been too close to the explosions. Maybe they were actually lucky. Afterall, they were free while I stumbled forward trying to see past carnage.
"Help me..!" A muffled voice called through the rubble. Yet where the voice was, I couldn't see. They sounded frightened and hurt.
"Where are you?" I offered squinting as my eyes demanded relief. Yet no sound came. No response came and so I kept moving.
It felt like a scene out of a doomsday film. Only without the happy ending. No one was surviving this. No one was coming to save the day. Bombs had fallen, war declared in bloodshed and pain. It had been a massive attack. I didn't know if there was somewhere untainted by the brutality of the day. I didn't know what tomorrow would bring. The only thing I had left was to keep moving. To escape the burning city because each breath felt harder to take. A rough cough ripped through my chest as I gasped for air while sucking in more fumes and dust particles.
The reality of the situation was not lost on me. The bombs didn't kill me but the air probably would. I laughed before seizing up in another coughing fit. No matter though, I would keep going until I earned my freedom. No matter what that meant. | I woke up in cold sweat, searching the room around me. Part of me hoped that the last three days were nothing but a nightmare. But when I looked at the calendar I had on my bedroom’s door, the only thing the red marker spelled out for tomorrow was doom.
I heard the tip taps of something coming to my room from the hallway. It was Sunny the German Shepherd, the only reason that I have kept going for the last 3 years. She jumped onto my bed and started whimpering, probably thinking I was in distress. I started petting her and shushing her to calm her down.
“It’s okay, Sunny. Everything is alright.” I softly spoke to her.
She seemed to have calmed down. But now I felt like I was too awake to fall back asleep, so I decided to go outside to take a breather.
I let Sunny out the door and watch her as she starts sniffing the ground. I started walking up to the old oak on top of the hill my house laid near. I whistled as Sunny followed me up the hill. Once I had reached the top I sat in front of the oak tree and drowned myself in silence, nothing but the sound of crickets and the late-night breeze.
It was hard to believe that everything was going to end when everything else seemed so still. But when I stare up into the night sky, my eyes didn’t deceive me for when I saw the moon looking twice as large. No one knew the end was coming this soon and no one knew how it had happened. For all I know, it could have been some guy’s doing or god’s judgment, but that didn’t matter to me.
People had only realized what was going to happen three days ago. It was announced on the radio, on the tv and written all over the newspapers. And the world government said there was nothing they could do about it. So they told us to say our prayers and kiss our families goodbye. In almost every movie I have watched or book I have read, there is always a dues ex machine, where everything seems to be at the brink of destruction, that’s when a hero arrives and somehow finds the path to a happy ending. But I guess this is no story, this is the harsh reality of the situation.
But as I watched Sunny play in the mud, part of me still hoped for it to be true. I reached into my pocket and took out a flip phone. I dialed the very familiar number of nine – one – one. But right before I dialed it I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.
I pressed the button and I could hear the phone ring.
One second passed. Two seconds passed. Then a knock.
“You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”
I stared at the screen of my phone for some time.
I guess heroes don’t always exist. Well, not one that can save us right now. I couldn’t help but grin at the thought of how childish I was for calling 911 when the literal moon was falling on us. Then I started laughing so loud that I couldn’t even keep my eyes open. Even though I knew that everyone was probably gonna die by tomorrow evening, I felt weirdly calm about it.
I whistled for Sunny to come to me and then patted her on her head. I started walking back to my little shack down the hill, feeling a bit sleepy.
​
***Check out my writing at*** [***r/Fluffwrites***](https://www.reddit.com/r/Fluffwrites/)
***Also, check out my*** ***fantasy series -------->*** [***The Dark Road Ahead. Chapter 0: Sacrifice***](https://www.reddit.com/r/FluffWrites/comments/hybda2/series_the_dark_road_ahead_chapter_0_sacrifice/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x) |
[deleted] | [WP] “You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.” | We'd stayed as long as we could.
So many phone calls. So many reasons for the calls over the years we'd been on the lines. Medical emergencies, gunshots, drunk drivers, one memorable little girl calling for someone to help her make Jell-O, the rapes, the arson, the all of it bloody and crying, and only some bright shining moments of beautiful human heroes.
No one had imagined the sky cracking open. The skittering flights of creatures that came in the first week. Still we stayed and answered the calls. No rapes, no arson anymore. Just medical dispatches, always the gunshots and, now poisonings too thanks to the stingers on the flying skyspawn...
Always the calls. So many calls. Still we stayed. The center was stocked with supplies so we stayed on the lines. More weeks passed and the creatures changed. Humanity cracked. Civilization cracked.
People calling now, just to hear voices of others. Certainly weren't any helplines we could refer them to, no one coming to drop off a hot meal for those without food. Just a quiet voice on the line, "We're sorry, I don't have anyone, but keep trying to apply pressure to the wound. .. ", "No, don't induce vomiting, what she swallowed will burn her airways... "
And then, finally, there was no reason to keep it up. No calls for three days for anyone. From anyone. Whatever it was, it was over.
I recorded the message in my calm, steady voice, "You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye."
I flipped the phone system switch to OUTGOING.
A final glance amongst my coworkers, and we headed out the doors to the nothing that was left. | I woke up in cold sweat, searching the room around me. Part of me hoped that the last three days were nothing but a nightmare. But when I looked at the calendar I had on my bedroom’s door, the only thing the red marker spelled out for tomorrow was doom.
I heard the tip taps of something coming to my room from the hallway. It was Sunny the German Shepherd, the only reason that I have kept going for the last 3 years. She jumped onto my bed and started whimpering, probably thinking I was in distress. I started petting her and shushing her to calm her down.
“It’s okay, Sunny. Everything is alright.” I softly spoke to her.
She seemed to have calmed down. But now I felt like I was too awake to fall back asleep, so I decided to go outside to take a breather.
I let Sunny out the door and watch her as she starts sniffing the ground. I started walking up to the old oak on top of the hill my house laid near. I whistled as Sunny followed me up the hill. Once I had reached the top I sat in front of the oak tree and drowned myself in silence, nothing but the sound of crickets and the late-night breeze.
It was hard to believe that everything was going to end when everything else seemed so still. But when I stare up into the night sky, my eyes didn’t deceive me for when I saw the moon looking twice as large. No one knew the end was coming this soon and no one knew how it had happened. For all I know, it could have been some guy’s doing or god’s judgment, but that didn’t matter to me.
People had only realized what was going to happen three days ago. It was announced on the radio, on the tv and written all over the newspapers. And the world government said there was nothing they could do about it. So they told us to say our prayers and kiss our families goodbye. In almost every movie I have watched or book I have read, there is always a dues ex machine, where everything seems to be at the brink of destruction, that’s when a hero arrives and somehow finds the path to a happy ending. But I guess this is no story, this is the harsh reality of the situation.
But as I watched Sunny play in the mud, part of me still hoped for it to be true. I reached into my pocket and took out a flip phone. I dialed the very familiar number of nine – one – one. But right before I dialed it I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.
I pressed the button and I could hear the phone ring.
One second passed. Two seconds passed. Then a knock.
“You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”
I stared at the screen of my phone for some time.
I guess heroes don’t always exist. Well, not one that can save us right now. I couldn’t help but grin at the thought of how childish I was for calling 911 when the literal moon was falling on us. Then I started laughing so loud that I couldn’t even keep my eyes open. Even though I knew that everyone was probably gonna die by tomorrow evening, I felt weirdly calm about it.
I whistled for Sunny to come to me and then patted her on her head. I started walking back to my little shack down the hill, feeling a bit sleepy.
​
***Check out my writing at*** [***r/Fluffwrites***](https://www.reddit.com/r/Fluffwrites/)
***Also, check out my*** ***fantasy series -------->*** [***The Dark Road Ahead. Chapter 0: Sacrifice***](https://www.reddit.com/r/FluffWrites/comments/hybda2/series_the_dark_road_ahead_chapter_0_sacrifice/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x) |
[deleted] | [WP] “You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.” | >**GENERATIONAL BLESSING, OR GENERATIONAL CURSE?**
I could taste the iron- the blood that was rising up the back of my throat. I could taste the *fear*.
*'You've reached 911...This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.'*
I tossed my phone aside. It was only dead weight at this point. Everyone I cared about I already had with me- and each of us were jogging as fast as we reasonably could, directly away from the city.
Looming over us in the night sky- it wasn't the moon, like it should have been. A massive space ship was half inside of our atmosphere and half out- no matter what bombs, missiles, lasers, or bullets of our making were sent at it, it didn't so much as cause a crack in the surface.
We had no offense that could touch it- but, at the very least, I did have *my* secret weapon.
For generations, members of my family had been gifted some kind of...divine guidance. It was the chill down our spine, ten minutes before the car crash. Or, like this morning, it was a smudge in the mirror that told us to *run*.
We were lucky- or, I guess, blessed- and that blessing had given me the opportunity to gather together my closest friends and family and make a break for it, just mere minutes before the invasion really began.
But- I could see the fatigue building already. Some of us were older, or out of shape- and, unfortunately, the alien technology had wiped out all of our cars. How, I didn't know- and none of us had the foresight to grab bicycles.
Just as we were beginning to reach exhaustion, well beyond the outskirts of the city, my heart skipped a beat.
There was an squad of aliens not even a hundred feet ahead of us- they had appeared out of thin air.
*Shit!* I turned on my heel and prepared to sprint off the road, into the woods- but one of them already had a hand on my shoulder.
All of us were forced to halt. My breathing was shallow- I didn't know if I had enough strength to fight-
"Hey!" Greeted one of the aliens. It was tall, vaguely humanoid, and its smile revealed rows of sharp teeth. "Glad you got my message this morning."
*What?*
"Sorry it was so vague, I was in a rush. Glad to finally meet you, Grandson of the famous Voyageur!"
-----------------------------------------------------
I'm experimenting with Interactive Fiction on my [subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/nystorm_writes/) , if you wanted to try a light RP as a cultist in a war-torn world, come say hi! | I woke up in cold sweat, searching the room around me. Part of me hoped that the last three days were nothing but a nightmare. But when I looked at the calendar I had on my bedroom’s door, the only thing the red marker spelled out for tomorrow was doom.
I heard the tip taps of something coming to my room from the hallway. It was Sunny the German Shepherd, the only reason that I have kept going for the last 3 years. She jumped onto my bed and started whimpering, probably thinking I was in distress. I started petting her and shushing her to calm her down.
“It’s okay, Sunny. Everything is alright.” I softly spoke to her.
She seemed to have calmed down. But now I felt like I was too awake to fall back asleep, so I decided to go outside to take a breather.
I let Sunny out the door and watch her as she starts sniffing the ground. I started walking up to the old oak on top of the hill my house laid near. I whistled as Sunny followed me up the hill. Once I had reached the top I sat in front of the oak tree and drowned myself in silence, nothing but the sound of crickets and the late-night breeze.
It was hard to believe that everything was going to end when everything else seemed so still. But when I stare up into the night sky, my eyes didn’t deceive me for when I saw the moon looking twice as large. No one knew the end was coming this soon and no one knew how it had happened. For all I know, it could have been some guy’s doing or god’s judgment, but that didn’t matter to me.
People had only realized what was going to happen three days ago. It was announced on the radio, on the tv and written all over the newspapers. And the world government said there was nothing they could do about it. So they told us to say our prayers and kiss our families goodbye. In almost every movie I have watched or book I have read, there is always a dues ex machine, where everything seems to be at the brink of destruction, that’s when a hero arrives and somehow finds the path to a happy ending. But I guess this is no story, this is the harsh reality of the situation.
But as I watched Sunny play in the mud, part of me still hoped for it to be true. I reached into my pocket and took out a flip phone. I dialed the very familiar number of nine – one – one. But right before I dialed it I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.
I pressed the button and I could hear the phone ring.
One second passed. Two seconds passed. Then a knock.
“You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”
I stared at the screen of my phone for some time.
I guess heroes don’t always exist. Well, not one that can save us right now. I couldn’t help but grin at the thought of how childish I was for calling 911 when the literal moon was falling on us. Then I started laughing so loud that I couldn’t even keep my eyes open. Even though I knew that everyone was probably gonna die by tomorrow evening, I felt weirdly calm about it.
I whistled for Sunny to come to me and then patted her on her head. I started walking back to my little shack down the hill, feeling a bit sleepy.
​
***Check out my writing at*** [***r/Fluffwrites***](https://www.reddit.com/r/Fluffwrites/)
***Also, check out my*** ***fantasy series -------->*** [***The Dark Road Ahead. Chapter 0: Sacrifice***](https://www.reddit.com/r/FluffWrites/comments/hybda2/series_the_dark_road_ahead_chapter_0_sacrifice/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x) |
[deleted] | [WP] “You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.” | “You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”
Clark had the cellphone held out at arm's length as though he thought it might explode at any moment. Gathered in a circle around him we all began to breathe again, and after a moment the circle broke into several smaller groups of whispering, cursing, frightened survivors. Henry took the phone out back and smashed it into pieces with a cinder block. Clark had been sure to switch the device to speakerphone mode before making the call, but we watched him with suspicion for hours afterwards anyway, and did not let him take a shift that night.
\#
In the morning we moved on. The billboard by the gas station had read something like *Atmos Tires: the last word in grip!* when we had staggered into the town two days prior, still numb from losing Maggie, but now *Why leave? Stay home and seek shelter!* was emblazoned across it in that font Ethan had described as too-friendly, sickly-sweet. Poor Ethan. Without him we would never have realized how to keep ourselves safe from the Message. He was the first of us to see clearly how it worked, but that understanding had not saved him. In the end he had still screamed and clawed at his former friends until they gunned him down like an animal.
We passed a smoldering book bonfire on our way back towards the highway. I chuckled a little in spite of myself, thinking how appalled I would have been only a couple of months ago at the idea of burning a book. Sarah was my info partner for the day – we moved as one to check the charred remnants. A copy of *The Hobbit* was lying a little away from the bonfire, its cover burned away to reveal what should have been one of the most recognizable openings in the English canon. It read: *In a hole in the ground there lived a Hobbit. He was happy in his hole, seeking shelter from harm.* | I woke up in cold sweat, searching the room around me. Part of me hoped that the last three days were nothing but a nightmare. But when I looked at the calendar I had on my bedroom’s door, the only thing the red marker spelled out for tomorrow was doom.
I heard the tip taps of something coming to my room from the hallway. It was Sunny the German Shepherd, the only reason that I have kept going for the last 3 years. She jumped onto my bed and started whimpering, probably thinking I was in distress. I started petting her and shushing her to calm her down.
“It’s okay, Sunny. Everything is alright.” I softly spoke to her.
She seemed to have calmed down. But now I felt like I was too awake to fall back asleep, so I decided to go outside to take a breather.
I let Sunny out the door and watch her as she starts sniffing the ground. I started walking up to the old oak on top of the hill my house laid near. I whistled as Sunny followed me up the hill. Once I had reached the top I sat in front of the oak tree and drowned myself in silence, nothing but the sound of crickets and the late-night breeze.
It was hard to believe that everything was going to end when everything else seemed so still. But when I stare up into the night sky, my eyes didn’t deceive me for when I saw the moon looking twice as large. No one knew the end was coming this soon and no one knew how it had happened. For all I know, it could have been some guy’s doing or god’s judgment, but that didn’t matter to me.
People had only realized what was going to happen three days ago. It was announced on the radio, on the tv and written all over the newspapers. And the world government said there was nothing they could do about it. So they told us to say our prayers and kiss our families goodbye. In almost every movie I have watched or book I have read, there is always a dues ex machine, where everything seems to be at the brink of destruction, that’s when a hero arrives and somehow finds the path to a happy ending. But I guess this is no story, this is the harsh reality of the situation.
But as I watched Sunny play in the mud, part of me still hoped for it to be true. I reached into my pocket and took out a flip phone. I dialed the very familiar number of nine – one – one. But right before I dialed it I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.
I pressed the button and I could hear the phone ring.
One second passed. Two seconds passed. Then a knock.
“You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”
I stared at the screen of my phone for some time.
I guess heroes don’t always exist. Well, not one that can save us right now. I couldn’t help but grin at the thought of how childish I was for calling 911 when the literal moon was falling on us. Then I started laughing so loud that I couldn’t even keep my eyes open. Even though I knew that everyone was probably gonna die by tomorrow evening, I felt weirdly calm about it.
I whistled for Sunny to come to me and then patted her on her head. I started walking back to my little shack down the hill, feeling a bit sleepy.
​
***Check out my writing at*** [***r/Fluffwrites***](https://www.reddit.com/r/Fluffwrites/)
***Also, check out my*** ***fantasy series -------->*** [***The Dark Road Ahead. Chapter 0: Sacrifice***](https://www.reddit.com/r/FluffWrites/comments/hybda2/series_the_dark_road_ahead_chapter_0_sacrifice/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x) |
[deleted] | [WP] “You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.” | "Stop calling, dad," I said quietly. "Nobody is coming for us."
My father hung up the phone and sighed, "I have to keep trying, Michael. If there's even a chance that they'll answer..."
I used my finger to peek out from the blinds at the street. This wasn't how I was expecting the zombie apocalypse to go. I'd seen every movie, read every book, obsessed over the TV shows, and I can guarantee you that nobody was more prepared for a zombies to life scenario more than I. But this... Nobody had ever written this. This was a different story entirely.
"Michael..." My step-mom called out as she wandered the streets. My eyes welled up as I watched her wander around. "Tom?" She called out. My dad joined me at the window and sighed, "Are you absolutely sure she's one of them?" He asked. "I'm sure of it," I replied. "Watch this." I added as I produced my phone and dialed her. The two of us watched her jump, startled as the device went off. She reached into her pocket and pull her phone out and stared at it for several seconds before throwing it on the ground and continuing on down the road. My dad raised a hand to his mouth.
"Tom? Michael? Where are you?"
"How did you know she would do that?" My dad choked out. "I've been texting my friend Kyle. He and his folks are still alive too. Kyle found out that these things don't know what to do with technology at all." I let the blinds slide back into place and sat down against the wall. "They're masters of emotional manipulation. There's almost no way to tell them apart from your loved ones. But ask them to change the channel, adjust the A/C, or make a phone call and they're completely clueless."
My dad stood up and called 911 again. I could hear the automated voice from where I sat.
“You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”
"Dad. It's no use." I repeated.
He remained silent.
"Tom? Where are you?" We heard her call again from outside. My dad turned and walked away. "Hey," I called after him, "Where are you going?"
"I can't listen to her voice anymore," he replied and disappeared into the next room. I rested my head against the wall trying to ignore the hunger as I wracked my brain for solutions. My thoughts were interrupted by the beeping of the keypad on the back door. We had installed it originally because my step-mom could never keep track of her key, but since this whole mess started it worked as a security measure against those things pretending to be our family.
I heard the door open and Uncle Bruce appeared with groceries in his hands. "Food!" I called out and pushed away from the wall. He smiled at me and moved for the kitchen. "Where did you find food, Bruce?" I asked in a bewildered tone as I started pulling chicken and beef from the bags.
"Nevermind that, Mikey," he replied. "Turn the stove on for me." I obliged.
About a half hour later the house smelled delicious. My stomach roared as Bruce set out the plates, "Call your dad." I turned my head, but didn't take my eyes off of the cooked chicken, "Dad, dinner!" I started cutting into the bird, "He smells it," I assured my uncle. After a few minutes Bruce looked over my shoulder and then cast me a worried glance, "You sure he's coming?"
"He heard Lynn again," I said with a mouth full of food.
"Oh, Jesus," He muttered. "She's back?"
"Yeah..." I responded solemnly. "I think maybe he just needs some alone time."
"Micheal!" I heard my dad's voice.
From *outside.*
My uncle and I locked eyes before quickly moving to the kitchen window and turning the blinds open. He looked in at us from the kitchen window, "You were wrong about Lynn! She's fine!"
I felt my heart sink as she joined him at the window.
"Son, she just thought her phone was acting up! Complete misunderstanding!"
I clenched my teeth and felt my uncle's hand on my shoulder.
"Mikey..." He said. "I know." I responded from the back of my throat.
Bruce closed the blinds let his forehead collide with the wall.
"Come on Michael," my father called to me. "Just... Just let us in, okay?"
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I get a 15 minute break at work aside from my usual lunch break. I pick a prompt, spend a couple of minutes storyboarding, and then do as much as I can within the confines of my break. If you enjoyed this, consider following me at r/A15MinuteMythos
[Part 2](https://old.reddit.com/r/A15MinuteMythos/comments/is3fx7/wp_youve_reached_911_this_service_is_no_longer/) | I woke up in cold sweat, searching the room around me. Part of me hoped that the last three days were nothing but a nightmare. But when I looked at the calendar I had on my bedroom’s door, the only thing the red marker spelled out for tomorrow was doom.
I heard the tip taps of something coming to my room from the hallway. It was Sunny the German Shepherd, the only reason that I have kept going for the last 3 years. She jumped onto my bed and started whimpering, probably thinking I was in distress. I started petting her and shushing her to calm her down.
“It’s okay, Sunny. Everything is alright.” I softly spoke to her.
She seemed to have calmed down. But now I felt like I was too awake to fall back asleep, so I decided to go outside to take a breather.
I let Sunny out the door and watch her as she starts sniffing the ground. I started walking up to the old oak on top of the hill my house laid near. I whistled as Sunny followed me up the hill. Once I had reached the top I sat in front of the oak tree and drowned myself in silence, nothing but the sound of crickets and the late-night breeze.
It was hard to believe that everything was going to end when everything else seemed so still. But when I stare up into the night sky, my eyes didn’t deceive me for when I saw the moon looking twice as large. No one knew the end was coming this soon and no one knew how it had happened. For all I know, it could have been some guy’s doing or god’s judgment, but that didn’t matter to me.
People had only realized what was going to happen three days ago. It was announced on the radio, on the tv and written all over the newspapers. And the world government said there was nothing they could do about it. So they told us to say our prayers and kiss our families goodbye. In almost every movie I have watched or book I have read, there is always a dues ex machine, where everything seems to be at the brink of destruction, that’s when a hero arrives and somehow finds the path to a happy ending. But I guess this is no story, this is the harsh reality of the situation.
But as I watched Sunny play in the mud, part of me still hoped for it to be true. I reached into my pocket and took out a flip phone. I dialed the very familiar number of nine – one – one. But right before I dialed it I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.
I pressed the button and I could hear the phone ring.
One second passed. Two seconds passed. Then a knock.
“You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”
I stared at the screen of my phone for some time.
I guess heroes don’t always exist. Well, not one that can save us right now. I couldn’t help but grin at the thought of how childish I was for calling 911 when the literal moon was falling on us. Then I started laughing so loud that I couldn’t even keep my eyes open. Even though I knew that everyone was probably gonna die by tomorrow evening, I felt weirdly calm about it.
I whistled for Sunny to come to me and then patted her on her head. I started walking back to my little shack down the hill, feeling a bit sleepy.
​
***Check out my writing at*** [***r/Fluffwrites***](https://www.reddit.com/r/Fluffwrites/)
***Also, check out my*** ***fantasy series -------->*** [***The Dark Road Ahead. Chapter 0: Sacrifice***](https://www.reddit.com/r/FluffWrites/comments/hybda2/series_the_dark_road_ahead_chapter_0_sacrifice/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x) |
[deleted] | [WP] “You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.” | We'd stayed as long as we could.
So many phone calls. So many reasons for the calls over the years we'd been on the lines. Medical emergencies, gunshots, drunk drivers, one memorable little girl calling for someone to help her make Jell-O, the rapes, the arson, the all of it bloody and crying, and only some bright shining moments of beautiful human heroes.
No one had imagined the sky cracking open. The skittering flights of creatures that came in the first week. Still we stayed and answered the calls. No rapes, no arson anymore. Just medical dispatches, always the gunshots and, now poisonings too thanks to the stingers on the flying skyspawn...
Always the calls. So many calls. Still we stayed. The center was stocked with supplies so we stayed on the lines. More weeks passed and the creatures changed. Humanity cracked. Civilization cracked.
People calling now, just to hear voices of others. Certainly weren't any helplines we could refer them to, no one coming to drop off a hot meal for those without food. Just a quiet voice on the line, "We're sorry, I don't have anyone, but keep trying to apply pressure to the wound. .. ", "No, don't induce vomiting, what she swallowed will burn her airways... "
And then, finally, there was no reason to keep it up. No calls for three days for anyone. From anyone. Whatever it was, it was over.
I recorded the message in my calm, steady voice, "You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye."
I flipped the phone system switch to OUTGOING.
A final glance amongst my coworkers, and we headed out the doors to the nothing that was left. | "Seek shelter.." My voice choked as I stared at the phone in my hand. What shelter? My world which had revolved around the small black item was gone and I hadn't seen it coming. There had been no news alerts. No warning had rung out. It had come while people ate with one another, watched films. Some had laughed, others argued. I had been scrolling lazily through my phone waiting for my life to begin. Funny how truly evil moments come at the least expected times. Maybe that's why they stand out. They dispel the comfortable myth and replace it with agony.
My entire body shook as I gasped for air, my lungs on fire as if having run a marathon. It was the air that made it hard to breathe. My eyes burning from unshed tears and heat which radiated around me. Panic setting in to steal every potentially helpful thought before it could form.
"I can't fall apart.." I wispered to myself even as I lifted my gaze while dropping my phone. It felt like a million pounds crushing me in place as it bounced once on the pavement before laying still. Exhaling slowly I tried to force myself to be steady. Years of meditation and breathing exercises to fight panic attacks would not be for nothing. My pessimism that nothing could last forever was reality. I wasn't paranoid though I wished more than ever I had been.
The vision before me was hard to accept. Buildings burning to the ground as smoke rose through air. As I focused I realized how much had been blocked out by the initial shock. Screaming. So many people were screaming. Others were crying; but it was the broken sobs of someone who had lost everything and those in agony who were being crushed and pined by debris. Every person was suddenly faced with the truth that we had lost everything we called normal. Our lives were over. Our dreams a distant memory. No one had cared. No one was coming to our rescue. We were on our own and to survive meant to think and react.. in what way? I didn't know how to finish that thought I realized taking a shaky step forward.
Everything hurt in that moment as I scaned my body. I was covered in soot and scrapes. Running my palms over my arms felt sticky and damp. "Of course I'm bleeding." I said as someone bounced off of me as they ran. Their eyes wild as if panic was all they had left. My own legs buckled against the impact but I managed to stay up, steady.
The chaos was every where. Nothing looked right. I passed broken glass, abandoned vehicles and people left for dead in the street. Unlucky ones who had been too close to the explosions. Maybe they were actually lucky. Afterall, they were free while I stumbled forward trying to see past carnage.
"Help me..!" A muffled voice called through the rubble. Yet where the voice was, I couldn't see. They sounded frightened and hurt.
"Where are you?" I offered squinting as my eyes demanded relief. Yet no sound came. No response came and so I kept moving.
It felt like a scene out of a doomsday film. Only without the happy ending. No one was surviving this. No one was coming to save the day. Bombs had fallen, war declared in bloodshed and pain. It had been a massive attack. I didn't know if there was somewhere untainted by the brutality of the day. I didn't know what tomorrow would bring. The only thing I had left was to keep moving. To escape the burning city because each breath felt harder to take. A rough cough ripped through my chest as I gasped for air while sucking in more fumes and dust particles.
The reality of the situation was not lost on me. The bombs didn't kill me but the air probably would. I laughed before seizing up in another coughing fit. No matter though, I would keep going until I earned my freedom. No matter what that meant. |
[deleted] | [WP] “You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.” | >**GENERATIONAL BLESSING, OR GENERATIONAL CURSE?**
I could taste the iron- the blood that was rising up the back of my throat. I could taste the *fear*.
*'You've reached 911...This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.'*
I tossed my phone aside. It was only dead weight at this point. Everyone I cared about I already had with me- and each of us were jogging as fast as we reasonably could, directly away from the city.
Looming over us in the night sky- it wasn't the moon, like it should have been. A massive space ship was half inside of our atmosphere and half out- no matter what bombs, missiles, lasers, or bullets of our making were sent at it, it didn't so much as cause a crack in the surface.
We had no offense that could touch it- but, at the very least, I did have *my* secret weapon.
For generations, members of my family had been gifted some kind of...divine guidance. It was the chill down our spine, ten minutes before the car crash. Or, like this morning, it was a smudge in the mirror that told us to *run*.
We were lucky- or, I guess, blessed- and that blessing had given me the opportunity to gather together my closest friends and family and make a break for it, just mere minutes before the invasion really began.
But- I could see the fatigue building already. Some of us were older, or out of shape- and, unfortunately, the alien technology had wiped out all of our cars. How, I didn't know- and none of us had the foresight to grab bicycles.
Just as we were beginning to reach exhaustion, well beyond the outskirts of the city, my heart skipped a beat.
There was an squad of aliens not even a hundred feet ahead of us- they had appeared out of thin air.
*Shit!* I turned on my heel and prepared to sprint off the road, into the woods- but one of them already had a hand on my shoulder.
All of us were forced to halt. My breathing was shallow- I didn't know if I had enough strength to fight-
"Hey!" Greeted one of the aliens. It was tall, vaguely humanoid, and its smile revealed rows of sharp teeth. "Glad you got my message this morning."
*What?*
"Sorry it was so vague, I was in a rush. Glad to finally meet you, Grandson of the famous Voyageur!"
-----------------------------------------------------
I'm experimenting with Interactive Fiction on my [subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/nystorm_writes/) , if you wanted to try a light RP as a cultist in a war-torn world, come say hi! | "Seek shelter.." My voice choked as I stared at the phone in my hand. What shelter? My world which had revolved around the small black item was gone and I hadn't seen it coming. There had been no news alerts. No warning had rung out. It had come while people ate with one another, watched films. Some had laughed, others argued. I had been scrolling lazily through my phone waiting for my life to begin. Funny how truly evil moments come at the least expected times. Maybe that's why they stand out. They dispel the comfortable myth and replace it with agony.
My entire body shook as I gasped for air, my lungs on fire as if having run a marathon. It was the air that made it hard to breathe. My eyes burning from unshed tears and heat which radiated around me. Panic setting in to steal every potentially helpful thought before it could form.
"I can't fall apart.." I wispered to myself even as I lifted my gaze while dropping my phone. It felt like a million pounds crushing me in place as it bounced once on the pavement before laying still. Exhaling slowly I tried to force myself to be steady. Years of meditation and breathing exercises to fight panic attacks would not be for nothing. My pessimism that nothing could last forever was reality. I wasn't paranoid though I wished more than ever I had been.
The vision before me was hard to accept. Buildings burning to the ground as smoke rose through air. As I focused I realized how much had been blocked out by the initial shock. Screaming. So many people were screaming. Others were crying; but it was the broken sobs of someone who had lost everything and those in agony who were being crushed and pined by debris. Every person was suddenly faced with the truth that we had lost everything we called normal. Our lives were over. Our dreams a distant memory. No one had cared. No one was coming to our rescue. We were on our own and to survive meant to think and react.. in what way? I didn't know how to finish that thought I realized taking a shaky step forward.
Everything hurt in that moment as I scaned my body. I was covered in soot and scrapes. Running my palms over my arms felt sticky and damp. "Of course I'm bleeding." I said as someone bounced off of me as they ran. Their eyes wild as if panic was all they had left. My own legs buckled against the impact but I managed to stay up, steady.
The chaos was every where. Nothing looked right. I passed broken glass, abandoned vehicles and people left for dead in the street. Unlucky ones who had been too close to the explosions. Maybe they were actually lucky. Afterall, they were free while I stumbled forward trying to see past carnage.
"Help me..!" A muffled voice called through the rubble. Yet where the voice was, I couldn't see. They sounded frightened and hurt.
"Where are you?" I offered squinting as my eyes demanded relief. Yet no sound came. No response came and so I kept moving.
It felt like a scene out of a doomsday film. Only without the happy ending. No one was surviving this. No one was coming to save the day. Bombs had fallen, war declared in bloodshed and pain. It had been a massive attack. I didn't know if there was somewhere untainted by the brutality of the day. I didn't know what tomorrow would bring. The only thing I had left was to keep moving. To escape the burning city because each breath felt harder to take. A rough cough ripped through my chest as I gasped for air while sucking in more fumes and dust particles.
The reality of the situation was not lost on me. The bombs didn't kill me but the air probably would. I laughed before seizing up in another coughing fit. No matter though, I would keep going until I earned my freedom. No matter what that meant. |
[deleted] | [WP] “You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.” | "Stop calling, dad," I said quietly. "Nobody is coming for us."
My father hung up the phone and sighed, "I have to keep trying, Michael. If there's even a chance that they'll answer..."
I used my finger to peek out from the blinds at the street. This wasn't how I was expecting the zombie apocalypse to go. I'd seen every movie, read every book, obsessed over the TV shows, and I can guarantee you that nobody was more prepared for a zombies to life scenario more than I. But this... Nobody had ever written this. This was a different story entirely.
"Michael..." My step-mom called out as she wandered the streets. My eyes welled up as I watched her wander around. "Tom?" She called out. My dad joined me at the window and sighed, "Are you absolutely sure she's one of them?" He asked. "I'm sure of it," I replied. "Watch this." I added as I produced my phone and dialed her. The two of us watched her jump, startled as the device went off. She reached into her pocket and pull her phone out and stared at it for several seconds before throwing it on the ground and continuing on down the road. My dad raised a hand to his mouth.
"Tom? Michael? Where are you?"
"How did you know she would do that?" My dad choked out. "I've been texting my friend Kyle. He and his folks are still alive too. Kyle found out that these things don't know what to do with technology at all." I let the blinds slide back into place and sat down against the wall. "They're masters of emotional manipulation. There's almost no way to tell them apart from your loved ones. But ask them to change the channel, adjust the A/C, or make a phone call and they're completely clueless."
My dad stood up and called 911 again. I could hear the automated voice from where I sat.
“You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”
"Dad. It's no use." I repeated.
He remained silent.
"Tom? Where are you?" We heard her call again from outside. My dad turned and walked away. "Hey," I called after him, "Where are you going?"
"I can't listen to her voice anymore," he replied and disappeared into the next room. I rested my head against the wall trying to ignore the hunger as I wracked my brain for solutions. My thoughts were interrupted by the beeping of the keypad on the back door. We had installed it originally because my step-mom could never keep track of her key, but since this whole mess started it worked as a security measure against those things pretending to be our family.
I heard the door open and Uncle Bruce appeared with groceries in his hands. "Food!" I called out and pushed away from the wall. He smiled at me and moved for the kitchen. "Where did you find food, Bruce?" I asked in a bewildered tone as I started pulling chicken and beef from the bags.
"Nevermind that, Mikey," he replied. "Turn the stove on for me." I obliged.
About a half hour later the house smelled delicious. My stomach roared as Bruce set out the plates, "Call your dad." I turned my head, but didn't take my eyes off of the cooked chicken, "Dad, dinner!" I started cutting into the bird, "He smells it," I assured my uncle. After a few minutes Bruce looked over my shoulder and then cast me a worried glance, "You sure he's coming?"
"He heard Lynn again," I said with a mouth full of food.
"Oh, Jesus," He muttered. "She's back?"
"Yeah..." I responded solemnly. "I think maybe he just needs some alone time."
"Micheal!" I heard my dad's voice.
From *outside.*
My uncle and I locked eyes before quickly moving to the kitchen window and turning the blinds open. He looked in at us from the kitchen window, "You were wrong about Lynn! She's fine!"
I felt my heart sink as she joined him at the window.
"Son, she just thought her phone was acting up! Complete misunderstanding!"
I clenched my teeth and felt my uncle's hand on my shoulder.
"Mikey..." He said. "I know." I responded from the back of my throat.
Bruce closed the blinds let his forehead collide with the wall.
"Come on Michael," my father called to me. "Just... Just let us in, okay?"
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I get a 15 minute break at work aside from my usual lunch break. I pick a prompt, spend a couple of minutes storyboarding, and then do as much as I can within the confines of my break. If you enjoyed this, consider following me at r/A15MinuteMythos
[Part 2](https://old.reddit.com/r/A15MinuteMythos/comments/is3fx7/wp_youve_reached_911_this_service_is_no_longer/) | "Seek shelter.." My voice choked as I stared at the phone in my hand. What shelter? My world which had revolved around the small black item was gone and I hadn't seen it coming. There had been no news alerts. No warning had rung out. It had come while people ate with one another, watched films. Some had laughed, others argued. I had been scrolling lazily through my phone waiting for my life to begin. Funny how truly evil moments come at the least expected times. Maybe that's why they stand out. They dispel the comfortable myth and replace it with agony.
My entire body shook as I gasped for air, my lungs on fire as if having run a marathon. It was the air that made it hard to breathe. My eyes burning from unshed tears and heat which radiated around me. Panic setting in to steal every potentially helpful thought before it could form.
"I can't fall apart.." I wispered to myself even as I lifted my gaze while dropping my phone. It felt like a million pounds crushing me in place as it bounced once on the pavement before laying still. Exhaling slowly I tried to force myself to be steady. Years of meditation and breathing exercises to fight panic attacks would not be for nothing. My pessimism that nothing could last forever was reality. I wasn't paranoid though I wished more than ever I had been.
The vision before me was hard to accept. Buildings burning to the ground as smoke rose through air. As I focused I realized how much had been blocked out by the initial shock. Screaming. So many people were screaming. Others were crying; but it was the broken sobs of someone who had lost everything and those in agony who were being crushed and pined by debris. Every person was suddenly faced with the truth that we had lost everything we called normal. Our lives were over. Our dreams a distant memory. No one had cared. No one was coming to our rescue. We were on our own and to survive meant to think and react.. in what way? I didn't know how to finish that thought I realized taking a shaky step forward.
Everything hurt in that moment as I scaned my body. I was covered in soot and scrapes. Running my palms over my arms felt sticky and damp. "Of course I'm bleeding." I said as someone bounced off of me as they ran. Their eyes wild as if panic was all they had left. My own legs buckled against the impact but I managed to stay up, steady.
The chaos was every where. Nothing looked right. I passed broken glass, abandoned vehicles and people left for dead in the street. Unlucky ones who had been too close to the explosions. Maybe they were actually lucky. Afterall, they were free while I stumbled forward trying to see past carnage.
"Help me..!" A muffled voice called through the rubble. Yet where the voice was, I couldn't see. They sounded frightened and hurt.
"Where are you?" I offered squinting as my eyes demanded relief. Yet no sound came. No response came and so I kept moving.
It felt like a scene out of a doomsday film. Only without the happy ending. No one was surviving this. No one was coming to save the day. Bombs had fallen, war declared in bloodshed and pain. It had been a massive attack. I didn't know if there was somewhere untainted by the brutality of the day. I didn't know what tomorrow would bring. The only thing I had left was to keep moving. To escape the burning city because each breath felt harder to take. A rough cough ripped through my chest as I gasped for air while sucking in more fumes and dust particles.
The reality of the situation was not lost on me. The bombs didn't kill me but the air probably would. I laughed before seizing up in another coughing fit. No matter though, I would keep going until I earned my freedom. No matter what that meant. |
[deleted] | [WP] “You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.” | "Stop calling, dad," I said quietly. "Nobody is coming for us."
My father hung up the phone and sighed, "I have to keep trying, Michael. If there's even a chance that they'll answer..."
I used my finger to peek out from the blinds at the street. This wasn't how I was expecting the zombie apocalypse to go. I'd seen every movie, read every book, obsessed over the TV shows, and I can guarantee you that nobody was more prepared for a zombies to life scenario more than I. But this... Nobody had ever written this. This was a different story entirely.
"Michael..." My step-mom called out as she wandered the streets. My eyes welled up as I watched her wander around. "Tom?" She called out. My dad joined me at the window and sighed, "Are you absolutely sure she's one of them?" He asked. "I'm sure of it," I replied. "Watch this." I added as I produced my phone and dialed her. The two of us watched her jump, startled as the device went off. She reached into her pocket and pull her phone out and stared at it for several seconds before throwing it on the ground and continuing on down the road. My dad raised a hand to his mouth.
"Tom? Michael? Where are you?"
"How did you know she would do that?" My dad choked out. "I've been texting my friend Kyle. He and his folks are still alive too. Kyle found out that these things don't know what to do with technology at all." I let the blinds slide back into place and sat down against the wall. "They're masters of emotional manipulation. There's almost no way to tell them apart from your loved ones. But ask them to change the channel, adjust the A/C, or make a phone call and they're completely clueless."
My dad stood up and called 911 again. I could hear the automated voice from where I sat.
“You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”
"Dad. It's no use." I repeated.
He remained silent.
"Tom? Where are you?" We heard her call again from outside. My dad turned and walked away. "Hey," I called after him, "Where are you going?"
"I can't listen to her voice anymore," he replied and disappeared into the next room. I rested my head against the wall trying to ignore the hunger as I wracked my brain for solutions. My thoughts were interrupted by the beeping of the keypad on the back door. We had installed it originally because my step-mom could never keep track of her key, but since this whole mess started it worked as a security measure against those things pretending to be our family.
I heard the door open and Uncle Bruce appeared with groceries in his hands. "Food!" I called out and pushed away from the wall. He smiled at me and moved for the kitchen. "Where did you find food, Bruce?" I asked in a bewildered tone as I started pulling chicken and beef from the bags.
"Nevermind that, Mikey," he replied. "Turn the stove on for me." I obliged.
About a half hour later the house smelled delicious. My stomach roared as Bruce set out the plates, "Call your dad." I turned my head, but didn't take my eyes off of the cooked chicken, "Dad, dinner!" I started cutting into the bird, "He smells it," I assured my uncle. After a few minutes Bruce looked over my shoulder and then cast me a worried glance, "You sure he's coming?"
"He heard Lynn again," I said with a mouth full of food.
"Oh, Jesus," He muttered. "She's back?"
"Yeah..." I responded solemnly. "I think maybe he just needs some alone time."
"Micheal!" I heard my dad's voice.
From *outside.*
My uncle and I locked eyes before quickly moving to the kitchen window and turning the blinds open. He looked in at us from the kitchen window, "You were wrong about Lynn! She's fine!"
I felt my heart sink as she joined him at the window.
"Son, she just thought her phone was acting up! Complete misunderstanding!"
I clenched my teeth and felt my uncle's hand on my shoulder.
"Mikey..." He said. "I know." I responded from the back of my throat.
Bruce closed the blinds let his forehead collide with the wall.
"Come on Michael," my father called to me. "Just... Just let us in, okay?"
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I get a 15 minute break at work aside from my usual lunch break. I pick a prompt, spend a couple of minutes storyboarding, and then do as much as I can within the confines of my break. If you enjoyed this, consider following me at r/A15MinuteMythos
[Part 2](https://old.reddit.com/r/A15MinuteMythos/comments/is3fx7/wp_youve_reached_911_this_service_is_no_longer/) | “You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”
Clark had the cellphone held out at arm's length as though he thought it might explode at any moment. Gathered in a circle around him we all began to breathe again, and after a moment the circle broke into several smaller groups of whispering, cursing, frightened survivors. Henry took the phone out back and smashed it into pieces with a cinder block. Clark had been sure to switch the device to speakerphone mode before making the call, but we watched him with suspicion for hours afterwards anyway, and did not let him take a shift that night.
\#
In the morning we moved on. The billboard by the gas station had read something like *Atmos Tires: the last word in grip!* when we had staggered into the town two days prior, still numb from losing Maggie, but now *Why leave? Stay home and seek shelter!* was emblazoned across it in that font Ethan had described as too-friendly, sickly-sweet. Poor Ethan. Without him we would never have realized how to keep ourselves safe from the Message. He was the first of us to see clearly how it worked, but that understanding had not saved him. In the end he had still screamed and clawed at his former friends until they gunned him down like an animal.
We passed a smoldering book bonfire on our way back towards the highway. I chuckled a little in spite of myself, thinking how appalled I would have been only a couple of months ago at the idea of burning a book. Sarah was my info partner for the day – we moved as one to check the charred remnants. A copy of *The Hobbit* was lying a little away from the bonfire, its cover burned away to reveal what should have been one of the most recognizable openings in the English canon. It read: *In a hole in the ground there lived a Hobbit. He was happy in his hole, seeking shelter from harm.* |
[WP] "If the world was ending, you'd come over right?" was the last thing you asked her before she left. It's been years since you last thought of her. Today you found out the world is about to end. As you sit alone in your apartment waiting to die, you hear a knock from your door. | It’s interesting to watch how people spend their last days. I see it all from the window of my flat; I witness all the strange things that the prospect of death makes people do.
There are those who make the most of it by doing things they thought they would have a lifetime to do: risking their lives on wild adventures, spending all their savings on that one overpriced car of their dreams, confessing their undying love to their childhood best friend. There are those who become either crazy or depressed, locking themselves at home or drowning out their fear with bottles after bottles of alcohol. Not to mention those who are simply in denial, carrying out their lives as normal and scoffing at everyone else panicking.
And then there are those like me: with no loving family or meaningful career, I have nothing to do in my last days except sit at home and admire the hundreds of collections cluttering my flat: the assortments of bits and bobs that I have spent my years curating. My trophies, I call them. Lack of human interaction had made me desperate for something else, *anything* else, to shower with affection.
But as I gaze out the window, a single conversation drifts into my memory like the remnants of a long-forgotten shipwreck bumping against a deserted shore: not quite lost, yet not quite here to stay.
*...*
*“Will I see you again?” I ask.*
*“No.” Her eyes flit around nervously, as if to make sure we aren't alone.*
*“But you left my place so suddenly! I haven’t even shown you my animal bone collection—”*
*“I said no. Get off my porch before I call the police.”*
*I jam a foot in between her door to keep it from closing. “What if, say, the world was ending? You’d come over then, right?”*
*She rolls her eyes, clearly annoyed by now and desperate to get rid of me. “Sure. Whatever. If that happens within my lifetime, I’ll come over. But until that happens, don’t contact me again.”*
*The door slams in my face.*
*...*
The blare of the TV snaps me back to the present, and I turn to watch the news anchor begin his daily recap of recent events. 2 billion infected, 870 million dead… the sudden bombard of new diseases seemingly out of nowhere three weeks ago was so unexpected and so deadly that even the world’s most advanced medical technology could not fight it. This morning, scientists gave up all search for vaccines, predicting that the human race would be completely wiped out in a matter of weeks, and telling everyone to spend their last days with loved ones.
Unsurprisingly, I am not too bothered by the prospect of death. Perhaps I simply don’t have anything worth living for. Except for her, of course: the first and only romantic connection I ever had— no, the first and only *human* connection I ever had.
She was the first person to ever show any interest in me; the first person ever to listen to what I had to say. But eventually my obsession with collecting was “too weird” for her, she said, and she swore never to step foot in my “cursed” house again.
It doesn’t matter now. I know she has recently lost every single one of her seven family members to the diseases, having already lost all her friends earlier on, and she must be feeling an unbelievable amount of loneliness. So the moment I texted her this morning with a reminder of that promise she made years ago, reminding her she could come to me when the world was ending, I knew she would give in. After all, regardless of how "weird" I am, I am quite literally her only connection left alive on the planet. And, as I said, the prospect of death makes people do strange things.
I am jolted out of my thoughts by a knock on my door. *Finally, she's here*. As I move towards it, my eyes skim over my shelves of trophies, and my eyes inadvertently linger on what used to be my favourite: a collection of unknown, deadly diseases from every hidden corner of the world, some of them having been trapped for millennia and never before discovered by humans.
Those jars, once brimming with vibrant liquids and pungent gases, are now empty. As of three weeks ago.
Below that shelf sits my latest collection of trophies: jars of decaying flesh, numbered from one to seven.
Some might call me crazy for going to such extreme lengths. But, you see, human connection is addictive. Once you get a taste of it, after decades alone, it is impossible to forget— and, just like any other addiction, I would do *anything* to get a taste of it again.
As some might put it, I would give the whole world. Literally.
Hands trembling, I reach for the door. | Everybody expects the world to end with a loud "boom". There would be anarchy in the streets, a breakdown in essential services, people partying their last days away - you get the idea; something between the feeling one might get if you mix red, yellow, and orange together.
But as it turned out, the end of the world was more of a mix of blue, black, and grey. After all, how else could the human race respond to the news that the nuclear powers of this world had made one miscalculated move swiftly after another? The news that the USA launched its entire fleet of nuclear missiles came just barely fifteen minutes ago. “Idiots!”, I had thought, completely distracted from my increasingly unimportant deadline, “that can’t lead to anything good. We’re screwed.”
And I was right. Once the USA started launching its missiles, it didn’t quite matter who launched them next, but in one quick flurry after another each nuclear power tried to assert dominance over the other, accompanying their missile launches with jingoistic TV announcements. I shut my television off after the third one, just astounded that anyone could think that bringing the idea of Mutually Assured Destruction to fruition actually **made sense** in reality.
All of a sudden, nothing mattered anymore. I no longer cared about that deadline I was rushing for that client whose money I liked and whose work I hated. I no longer cared about how much returns my investments were going to get me. I even no longer cared that I had five more dates scheduled for the coming month with girls I was excited to meet. None of that mattered now in this small space-time where there was too little time to party and riot, and too much time that it seemed like we were all on death row.
So I continued to recline on my sofa, staring out into the gleam of the Manhattan skyline that I knew was soon to become an abyss. You’d think that waiting for death by nuclear devastation would be more comfortable in one of Manhattan’s best penthouse apartments, but all I could think about was what I gave up for all this.
I thought of *her*. I thought of the times we shared, when we would laugh until our bellies hurt and cry into each other because we couldn’t imagine life without one another. I thought of her smile; of her silhouette in the sunset; of her large dark eyes staring into mine - when time stood still and nothing else mattered. I thought of the grief, the self-hatred, and the downward spiral that accompanied her departure from my life. But after six unproductive months of moping around, I locked these feelings - the good and the bad - tight in a box and shoved them into the recesses of my mind. How could I move forward in life if I couldn’t move past her? She was never coming back – she couldn’t, not even if I would give everything, I had and would have for her. Dead people just don’t come back to life.
//
“*If the world was ending, you’d come over right*?”, I whispered, as she sent me off at the airport. She giggled and gave me a peck on my cheek, “Babe, no! You’ve got to do this trip alone, and we’ve got to learn how to be independent from one another. It’s just twenty days!”. I never thought that those would be the very last words we would exchange with one another, that twenty days stretched on to twenty years – yet I would have readily agreed to wait for twenty more if I could just see her again.
//
In these fifteen minutes that dragged on for what seemed like an eternity, I finally let go of my grip on the box in my mind and let these memories; these feelings come to life. It seemed like a fitting way for the world to end – that I too, would feel the pain that the world will undoubtedly feel at the destruction of everything that ever existed. Yet if I could just see her again – if she would just knock on my door and hug me and tell me that the past twenty years was a dream and that everything is okay – then even if the world were to end in the next five minutes, I’d be okay.
It’s a pity that the knock on my door came just as the flurry of missiles came raining down over the Manhattan skyline, bringing with it red and black, orange and grey. I closed my eyes. | |
[WP] The zombie apocalypse has happened. You have a rural farm in the middle of nowhere and a group decides to raid it only to discover that you have done the impossible. You have turned the zombies into pets. They are very protective. | It was more luck than anything else. When the zombie apocalypse hit, locked alone in an apartment with the complete boxed set of "The Dog Whisperer with Caesar Milan", things get *super* boring sooner than you'd imagine. Sure the power went out pretty quickly, the grid collapsed, but my ex-boyfriend was a prepper and had given me a gasoline generator for our anniversary. The box set of Caesar Milan DVDs -- these were a Christmas gift from my mother. I'm making a few assumptions, but I'm pretty sure that my mom thought that if I got a dog, I would want to have a baby. So using her Mom logic, she bought me the complete collection of a dog-training TV show. At least she didn't buy me an actual dog. She's not THAT crazy.
Anyway, after a couple of weeks without the internet, without Facebook or instagram, and after watching the only other DVDs I owned (The Office and Friends), I started The Dog Whisperer. My ex-boyfriend (from hereon known as "the cheating a-hole") had given me MREs and canned food for every birthday and Christmas we had been together. No matter how many times I told him I wanted a necklace, a neglige or even a freaking giftcard, he bought me prepper crap. We were together for a longer period of time than we should have been. I honestly have no idea why I put up with him. I mean, I do, I guess--he had his moments. He was cute and strong and self-reliant, but he (the cheating a-hole) also was also a jerk. He made fun of me in front of his friends. He said that I was too fat to wear a bikini. When the a-hole cheated on me with my bestfriend (Kayla--who from hereon shall be referred to as "that B\*\*\*\*") it was over. Even though he said the break up was mutual, it wasn't. I kicked his sorry butt out. It's really unfortunate that I happened to kick him out of our apartment right as a zombie apocalypse was was ramping up. He took his guns, but I kept the apartment.
So what do you do during a zombie apocalypse other than eat freeze-dried Mac-n-Cheeze? You read manuals on how to use the urine distilling unit in the boxed up in the storage closet. You watch "The Dog Whisperer with Caesar Milan" for a second time. You make a clicker out of an aluminum beer can.
Zombies would amble around outside my apartment occasionally. We lived in a daylight basement, but the windows were reinforced with shatterproof glass and steel bars. I told 'the a-hole' that this was a complete waste of money when he had the bullet proof windows installed in a place we were renting, but he just ignored me and said, "I've got to protect my woman." He really was the worst. I observed the zombies stumbling in the back yard. I looked at zombies the way Caesar would look at a misbehaving dog.
\*\*(will continue below)\*\* | I hear a loud slam on my rustic door under me. I press a little, makeshift button three times. Gruff snarls echo over my loudspeaker above my house. I casually stroll to the dirty glass window in the room I’m in, wooden flooring creaking slightly.
I peer out, looking down, I see a group a three or so people decked out in some rifles and pistols. I made the right call, good. I decide to check the barn, swiftly exiting the room I’m residing in. I arrive in the familiar, run-down wooden hallway. Crossing it, and passing a few doors and staircase, I arrive at a large, thick, iron door. It took a crap ton of work to get my house to be able to support this door, and it better be worth it. I tap a long password in to a electronic device, it approves my password with a satisfying little ding.
I step step into a large, two-story room with a couple fancy electronic thingys scattered about. The room is reinforced with iron, but is made out of mostly wood and brick. Iron is rather difficult to get, so I can’t splurge too much. I go down some steps and enter the lower floor, this time I’m surrounded by an large swath of electronics. I walk up to the largest screen, it’s maybe one person high. I press a couple buttons under the screen. It shows a feed of an overwhelming amount of cameras. I change it to just six.
I check my large red barn. I see the chipped brown paint, revealing rotting wood. I check my cows, chickens, and other animals. Still fine, good, I can go full force. Suddenly, my audio feed sounds, a light shrill buzz reaches my ears, telling me that yes, this is audio from you microphones in your house.
“John McLloyd, this is the final warning, if you do not open your door right this instant, we will be forced to enter your house.”
Sure, I’ll let them, it’ll be their death. A thunk, then another, then another, is heard through my audio feed. Then a loud crash, they’re in. One thing nags at me, how do they know my name?
My audio feed crackles again, “what are we looking for?” Asks a stern voice.
“I don’t know Sarah, I only know what the Government said, which they got through frequencies they picked up,” says a low-pitched voice.
“They tracked the frequencies to here though?” Asks Sarah.
“Yeah, something to do with the Western Zombies,” replies the lower-pitched voice.
“That’s gotta have something to do with that growl we heard earlier. I can’t dwell on that now, keep looking,” replies Sarah.
Ok, that group is not here for my livestock. The Government is on to me. I’ll have to worry about that later. I check the feed of my entryway, it has some neatly arranged rustic furniture. The group seems to be ruffling through that area.
“This guy has a very fancy house, cushioned couches, that’s a rarity,” comments Mark.
“Yeah, this John was one of the top ten richest of the World ten years ago. He disappeared mysteriously. The Government tracked him to here, and picked up some weird frequencies coming from here,” replies Sarah.
The Government knows a lot more about me then I’m comfortable with. The loudspeakers a major giveaway, but nothing I can do about that now.
Audio comes through again, “Mark, did you catch that?” Asks Sarah.
“Uhh, Sarah that sounds like a lot of Westerns,” says Mark.
“Yeah, not good,” replies Sarah.
“We shall head upstairs, for better shooting,” says a new voice, strong and commanding.
The group rush up the rickety stairs, and find themselves in my upstairs hallway. I don’t have any cameras installed yet, was planning on doing that maybe next month. I’ll have to rely on my audio feed to get an idea of what the Government group is doing.
“Hey Mark, do you see that iron door, we’ll cut that open, you hold the Zombies off. They’ll likely be Westerns, so be prepared to shoot them a bunch to get them down,” says Sarah calmly.
“Arinthia and Sarah, hand me your guns, and you two use the slicer to get through.”
“Quick lets cut through!” Shouts Sarah.
Dang it, come on, Westerns, please catch them in time. I adjust my commands slightly from the loudspeaker. A new snarl comes through,
“What the... the Westerns are using they’re body parts as shields,” Mark says, shock evident in his voice, as gunshots sound from next to him. “He’s controlling the Western’s with the loudspeakers, I have never in my entire life seen a Western try to protect it’s vulnerable body parts. Ok, we might be able to stop him if we get in that door. Should I help?” Mark asks stupidly.
“Mark, continue shooting, so we can not die. Me and Sarah are to continue with the slicer,” yells Arinthia.
“Hurry up women, I can only hold them for so long,” says Mark, with constant sounds of guns coming from next to him.
A loud shriek of pain is heard from Mark.
“Mark, no, no, no, this is the end, huh?” Mutters Sarah, defeated.
“We served the government until the end, and that is admirable.”
Not wanting to hear any more, I turn off the audio receptors from the second floor.
I beat them, the Westerns won. I wait another two minutes, and change the command on my loudspeaker. I tell them to return to one of my barns. Well, the government is after me now, I’ll need to tighten up security a lot. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll pull through, the Government barely has any manpower to begin with. I know very well what the Government will do with this knowledge, and I have to protect it.
Tips always appreciated!
Definitely a more experimental story, considering a third of it is audio dialogue.
r/CascadeCorner | |
[WP] The zombie apocalypse has happened. You have a rural farm in the middle of nowhere and a group decides to raid it only to discover that you have done the impossible. You have turned the zombies into pets. They are very protective. | It was a normal Sunday morning when the attacker came. Just after I fed my zombies their daily snack, (they actually require very little to survive, which is kind of a given with how they're.. dead) The man came into the house without even bothering to knock. I knew from experience these people are almost never good news..
It's quite surprising how many people stayed out of other's houses during the apocalypse, actually, but they were quickly picked off by the occasional nocturnal zombie. Everyone who was left had no trouble invading other people's homes.
So I had no trouble using my pets to scare them off.
You know how dogs evolved from wolves, until they were scavengers, or hunters, or just cute, but always perfect for human companionship? Dogs are always going to have some part still the wolf, but wolves.. All still have their own potential to become the first dog again.
That's what I did with zombies. I lured one into my house on a crazy whim one night last month, and I kept feeding it little scraps until it was completely fine with me. It looked surprisingly like a human once I had it trained and dressed in nice clothes from my closet.
That's why the man never saw her coming. He pointed his knife at her, "hey, you'd better have some food in here!" He growls in a low voice. She just stands there for a second, and suddenly attacks. In a whirl of teeth and clawing, the man is on the ground with his neck in her mouth, pinning him down.
I walk over to her and grab the knife, "hold him!" I say to her, and the man is terrified, "how the hell did you get one of these things on your side?!"
My voice turns cold. "She's not a thing. I have you completely defenseless, now get out of my sight!" I nudge her, and she releases him.
He stumbles up, "you're crazy, lady!" He yelps, before running out the door. I watch him run, feeling satisfied. The zombie turns to me, expecting a treat, and I can't disappoint her. I toss her a little piece of jerky, and she happily eats it.
An hour later I'm sitting on my living room couch, cuddled up to her. She's oblivious to everything, but still seems to have some concept of compassion and trust.
"Maybe one day, they'll find a cure for you, Tara.." I whisper in her ear, kissing her cheek before drifting off into a blissful sleep. | I hear a loud slam on my rustic door under me. I press a little, makeshift button three times. Gruff snarls echo over my loudspeaker above my house. I casually stroll to the dirty glass window in the room I’m in, wooden flooring creaking slightly.
I peer out, looking down, I see a group a three or so people decked out in some rifles and pistols. I made the right call, good. I decide to check the barn, swiftly exiting the room I’m residing in. I arrive in the familiar, run-down wooden hallway. Crossing it, and passing a few doors and staircase, I arrive at a large, thick, iron door. It took a crap ton of work to get my house to be able to support this door, and it better be worth it. I tap a long password in to a electronic device, it approves my password with a satisfying little ding.
I step step into a large, two-story room with a couple fancy electronic thingys scattered about. The room is reinforced with iron, but is made out of mostly wood and brick. Iron is rather difficult to get, so I can’t splurge too much. I go down some steps and enter the lower floor, this time I’m surrounded by an large swath of electronics. I walk up to the largest screen, it’s maybe one person high. I press a couple buttons under the screen. It shows a feed of an overwhelming amount of cameras. I change it to just six.
I check my large red barn. I see the chipped brown paint, revealing rotting wood. I check my cows, chickens, and other animals. Still fine, good, I can go full force. Suddenly, my audio feed sounds, a light shrill buzz reaches my ears, telling me that yes, this is audio from you microphones in your house.
“John McLloyd, this is the final warning, if you do not open your door right this instant, we will be forced to enter your house.”
Sure, I’ll let them, it’ll be their death. A thunk, then another, then another, is heard through my audio feed. Then a loud crash, they’re in. One thing nags at me, how do they know my name?
My audio feed crackles again, “what are we looking for?” Asks a stern voice.
“I don’t know Sarah, I only know what the Government said, which they got through frequencies they picked up,” says a low-pitched voice.
“They tracked the frequencies to here though?” Asks Sarah.
“Yeah, something to do with the Western Zombies,” replies the lower-pitched voice.
“That’s gotta have something to do with that growl we heard earlier. I can’t dwell on that now, keep looking,” replies Sarah.
Ok, that group is not here for my livestock. The Government is on to me. I’ll have to worry about that later. I check the feed of my entryway, it has some neatly arranged rustic furniture. The group seems to be ruffling through that area.
“This guy has a very fancy house, cushioned couches, that’s a rarity,” comments Mark.
“Yeah, this John was one of the top ten richest of the World ten years ago. He disappeared mysteriously. The Government tracked him to here, and picked up some weird frequencies coming from here,” replies Sarah.
The Government knows a lot more about me then I’m comfortable with. The loudspeakers a major giveaway, but nothing I can do about that now.
Audio comes through again, “Mark, did you catch that?” Asks Sarah.
“Uhh, Sarah that sounds like a lot of Westerns,” says Mark.
“Yeah, not good,” replies Sarah.
“We shall head upstairs, for better shooting,” says a new voice, strong and commanding.
The group rush up the rickety stairs, and find themselves in my upstairs hallway. I don’t have any cameras installed yet, was planning on doing that maybe next month. I’ll have to rely on my audio feed to get an idea of what the Government group is doing.
“Hey Mark, do you see that iron door, we’ll cut that open, you hold the Zombies off. They’ll likely be Westerns, so be prepared to shoot them a bunch to get them down,” says Sarah calmly.
“Arinthia and Sarah, hand me your guns, and you two use the slicer to get through.”
“Quick lets cut through!” Shouts Sarah.
Dang it, come on, Westerns, please catch them in time. I adjust my commands slightly from the loudspeaker. A new snarl comes through,
“What the... the Westerns are using they’re body parts as shields,” Mark says, shock evident in his voice, as gunshots sound from next to him. “He’s controlling the Western’s with the loudspeakers, I have never in my entire life seen a Western try to protect it’s vulnerable body parts. Ok, we might be able to stop him if we get in that door. Should I help?” Mark asks stupidly.
“Mark, continue shooting, so we can not die. Me and Sarah are to continue with the slicer,” yells Arinthia.
“Hurry up women, I can only hold them for so long,” says Mark, with constant sounds of guns coming from next to him.
A loud shriek of pain is heard from Mark.
“Mark, no, no, no, this is the end, huh?” Mutters Sarah, defeated.
“We served the government until the end, and that is admirable.”
Not wanting to hear any more, I turn off the audio receptors from the second floor.
I beat them, the Westerns won. I wait another two minutes, and change the command on my loudspeaker. I tell them to return to one of my barns. Well, the government is after me now, I’ll need to tighten up security a lot. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll pull through, the Government barely has any manpower to begin with. I know very well what the Government will do with this knowledge, and I have to protect it.
Tips always appreciated!
Definitely a more experimental story, considering a third of it is audio dialogue.
r/CascadeCorner | |
[WP] The zombie apocalypse has happened. You have a rural farm in the middle of nowhere and a group decides to raid it only to discover that you have done the impossible. You have turned the zombies into pets. They are very protective. | They came as I knew they eventually would. The same assholes that, not content to ruin the country, had to go and ruin the world. After claiming for the past decade that they weren’t responsible for the series of pandemics that plagued us the past decade, they were finally forced to admit they were in fact behind them when their newest attempt mutated into something that everyone assumed to be strictly relegated to science fiction and government disaster planning; the zombie plague.
Within weeks, despite all the social distancing, masks, and everything else we had grown adept at the past ten years, the world was drastically reshaped. This time the pandemic started in America. California to be exact. Within two days, California was almost completely depopulated. Within, four the entire west coast was gone and pockets had appeared throughout the rest of the US, Canada, China, Europe, South America, and Australia. At the end of the first week, fifteen states and DC, most of Europe, and Australia were only inhabited by zombies. The second week saw the fall of South America, China, South Korea, the rest of Europe, and Canada. By the third week, The US consisted of only fifteen states. The only other surviving countries were Japan, North Korea, Russia, Ukraine, Mexico, and a handful of countries in the Middle East and North Africa.
Basically, the places that had guns. Many of the movies had it wrong. You didn’t need headshots to put a zombie down. Enough hits of any vital organ would do. The trouble was they didn’t just spread the virus by bite. Any body fluid would work. And despite what the movies say, these things still breathed and still had beating hearts. Which meant that the close kills were dangerous because of the high risk of infection.
Somehow some of these corporate types and bureaucrats that brought this disaster on us were still alive. And they had found my little corner of Texas where I moved when it was apparent Ohio would fall.
As the caravan of Humvees, armored busses, RV’s, and refrigerated trucks pulled up, and the first of the guards in their red camo uniforms hopped out, they got their first look at the fields and all the corn and cattle. It must have been shocking for them to have seen that. It takes a lot of water and power to keep things alive and protected in this world.
Though I hate them, I invite them in and offer to sell them supplies. I answer all their questions. When they ask how I am able to have electricity and water this far out from the walled cities when the grid is down, I show them. The looks on their faces are priceless when they see the zombies hitched up to the treadmills and cranks that power the generators and pumps. It took me almost a year to capture that many and another six months to find and cannibalize enough gas powered generators to build ones that worked by cranking instead. I now had enough electricity to power a small town. Or a single ranch with several layers of high voltage electric fences and gates.
Which I now powered on. After all, it isn’t safe to leave the defenses down too long. The scientists working in the hidden underground lab to find a cure, or at least a vaccine need to be protected at all costs as did my families and friends.
I also quietly powered on the fences surrounding the areas I let those bastards park everything but the Humvees with the fifty calibers in after I made them secure their weapons in the armory. I loved the looks of confusion as the gates rolled closed and the warning lights and buzzers came on. I loved more the looks of horror as the hidden doors to the first of the underground tunnels leading to the zombie pens opened just inside one of those now active fences...
I couldn’t afford for them to leave you see. They might find the lab. Or escape justice. And besides, my pet zombies need to feed. | I hear a loud slam on my rustic door under me. I press a little, makeshift button three times. Gruff snarls echo over my loudspeaker above my house. I casually stroll to the dirty glass window in the room I’m in, wooden flooring creaking slightly.
I peer out, looking down, I see a group a three or so people decked out in some rifles and pistols. I made the right call, good. I decide to check the barn, swiftly exiting the room I’m residing in. I arrive in the familiar, run-down wooden hallway. Crossing it, and passing a few doors and staircase, I arrive at a large, thick, iron door. It took a crap ton of work to get my house to be able to support this door, and it better be worth it. I tap a long password in to a electronic device, it approves my password with a satisfying little ding.
I step step into a large, two-story room with a couple fancy electronic thingys scattered about. The room is reinforced with iron, but is made out of mostly wood and brick. Iron is rather difficult to get, so I can’t splurge too much. I go down some steps and enter the lower floor, this time I’m surrounded by an large swath of electronics. I walk up to the largest screen, it’s maybe one person high. I press a couple buttons under the screen. It shows a feed of an overwhelming amount of cameras. I change it to just six.
I check my large red barn. I see the chipped brown paint, revealing rotting wood. I check my cows, chickens, and other animals. Still fine, good, I can go full force. Suddenly, my audio feed sounds, a light shrill buzz reaches my ears, telling me that yes, this is audio from you microphones in your house.
“John McLloyd, this is the final warning, if you do not open your door right this instant, we will be forced to enter your house.”
Sure, I’ll let them, it’ll be their death. A thunk, then another, then another, is heard through my audio feed. Then a loud crash, they’re in. One thing nags at me, how do they know my name?
My audio feed crackles again, “what are we looking for?” Asks a stern voice.
“I don’t know Sarah, I only know what the Government said, which they got through frequencies they picked up,” says a low-pitched voice.
“They tracked the frequencies to here though?” Asks Sarah.
“Yeah, something to do with the Western Zombies,” replies the lower-pitched voice.
“That’s gotta have something to do with that growl we heard earlier. I can’t dwell on that now, keep looking,” replies Sarah.
Ok, that group is not here for my livestock. The Government is on to me. I’ll have to worry about that later. I check the feed of my entryway, it has some neatly arranged rustic furniture. The group seems to be ruffling through that area.
“This guy has a very fancy house, cushioned couches, that’s a rarity,” comments Mark.
“Yeah, this John was one of the top ten richest of the World ten years ago. He disappeared mysteriously. The Government tracked him to here, and picked up some weird frequencies coming from here,” replies Sarah.
The Government knows a lot more about me then I’m comfortable with. The loudspeakers a major giveaway, but nothing I can do about that now.
Audio comes through again, “Mark, did you catch that?” Asks Sarah.
“Uhh, Sarah that sounds like a lot of Westerns,” says Mark.
“Yeah, not good,” replies Sarah.
“We shall head upstairs, for better shooting,” says a new voice, strong and commanding.
The group rush up the rickety stairs, and find themselves in my upstairs hallway. I don’t have any cameras installed yet, was planning on doing that maybe next month. I’ll have to rely on my audio feed to get an idea of what the Government group is doing.
“Hey Mark, do you see that iron door, we’ll cut that open, you hold the Zombies off. They’ll likely be Westerns, so be prepared to shoot them a bunch to get them down,” says Sarah calmly.
“Arinthia and Sarah, hand me your guns, and you two use the slicer to get through.”
“Quick lets cut through!” Shouts Sarah.
Dang it, come on, Westerns, please catch them in time. I adjust my commands slightly from the loudspeaker. A new snarl comes through,
“What the... the Westerns are using they’re body parts as shields,” Mark says, shock evident in his voice, as gunshots sound from next to him. “He’s controlling the Western’s with the loudspeakers, I have never in my entire life seen a Western try to protect it’s vulnerable body parts. Ok, we might be able to stop him if we get in that door. Should I help?” Mark asks stupidly.
“Mark, continue shooting, so we can not die. Me and Sarah are to continue with the slicer,” yells Arinthia.
“Hurry up women, I can only hold them for so long,” says Mark, with constant sounds of guns coming from next to him.
A loud shriek of pain is heard from Mark.
“Mark, no, no, no, this is the end, huh?” Mutters Sarah, defeated.
“We served the government until the end, and that is admirable.”
Not wanting to hear any more, I turn off the audio receptors from the second floor.
I beat them, the Westerns won. I wait another two minutes, and change the command on my loudspeaker. I tell them to return to one of my barns. Well, the government is after me now, I’ll need to tighten up security a lot. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll pull through, the Government barely has any manpower to begin with. I know very well what the Government will do with this knowledge, and I have to protect it.
Tips always appreciated!
Definitely a more experimental story, considering a third of it is audio dialogue.
r/CascadeCorner | |
[WP] The zombie apocalypse has happened. You have a rural farm in the middle of nowhere and a group decides to raid it only to discover that you have done the impossible. You have turned the zombies into pets. They are very protective. | The door to our hideout slammed open, with the deafening sound of rotten wood smashing clay bricks. The other squadmates nearly jumped out of their seats, and scattered their playing cards on the concrete floor, but I didn't move an inch.
A man stepped out from the opening, panting heavily, but unwounded.
"Howard! Status report!" I barked out, in the firm tone I have now claimed as my natural voice.
"The... the expedition... the raid... cancel it", he said, speaking in between rapid exhalations, caused by fear and physical exhaustion alike.
I got up, confused, and invited him to drink a few glassfuls of water. He consumed much more liquid than my strict rationning plan allowed him, but I let the infraction slide, eager to hear why he wanted us to abandon the raiding expedition we had started planning a week ago.
"The Miller farmhouse... It is protected. Heavily defended. I barely made it out safely. I don't want to go back there ever again", he said, progressively slowing his rapid respiration.
"Protected? As far as I can tell, the owner doesn't have the funds to hire a defense squad, and even less the charisma to organize such a group. I gave you the very best equipment of our arsenal, and you have showed your prowess with it countless times before. Surely a pistol-wiedling nutjob would be the least of your worries?"
Howard rubbed his hands together, clearly at a loss for words. Then, he regained his composure, looked at me in the eye, and said simply:
"Zombies."
"What?" I replied, shocked. "Zombies? You and I both know that is impossible. Those things attack anything that breathes without discrimination. It would be unthinkable for even the most well-armed man to gather a large group of these monsters without getting devoured in return; you have to understand I have trouble believing that a countryside farmer somehow managed to enlist a zombie militia that scared off my greatest scout and marksman."
"They're... tamed. The old granny Miller stands among them as if she was one of them. They obey her every command like loyal dogs. As soon as I tried to breach the silo, she waved a finger in my general direction, and was almost instantly swarmed. It's a miracle I managed to escape. Fortunately, the creatures don't seem to want to leave the farmgrounds."
"Listen, Howard. You're spouting nonsense. You've heard what the scientists were saying when this all started, right? What we call zombies are in fact animal-plant hybrids. Their metabolism and movement is sustained by the energy of the sun; that is why they have green skin. However, their vegetal biology lacks regenerative properties; their skin and muscles are bound to deteriorate and decay until they become a rotting pile of flesh. To avoid this, they must consume living animal organic matter, and replace their defective tissue with their victim's. Do you understand? They *have* to maul every living thing they come across, or else they are doomed to wither away. There's no way a loner like that lady Miller could keep them around for days, preventing this natural deterioration, and to somehow be spared herself on top of it all-"
Howard's face suddenly lit up, seemingly struck with a sudden understanding of the situation.
"Plants. That's it."
He smiled, then continued speaking.
"She's farming them. That crazy Miller killed one of the bastards in the wild a while ago, and instead of burning the corpse like any sane person would do, decided to plant a pound of zombie flesh in the ground, just to see what happens. She always did have that natural curiosity. I heard she wanted to be a doctor when she was a little girl."
Howard, encouraged by my sudden interest, continued to formulate his theory with even more enthusiasm, drawing a few squadmembers closer, who had become interested in his story.
"Remeber when I called those creatures 'loyal dogs' earlier? I think that's precisely what happened. When the first batch of new zombies started to raise from the soil, she culled the aggressive ones, and kept the most docile specimens. Just like the men of the past did it many millenia ago, she turned rabid wolves into obedient critters, fierce against whatever threathens their master, but affectionate with those who feed them."
Now sharing his excitement, but still not entirely convinced, I asked:
"But... How does she feed them? The Miller place is in the middle of nowhere! There's no way she could keep a steady supply of fresh humans to keep her little army alive!"
Howard approached his face closer to mine, and simply said, in a stern voice:
"I've been keeping watch on the Miller farmhouse for a while now. I used to take the greatest caution while approaching the fields surrounding the silos, due to the eerie silence surrounding the place, but since a few days, I've noticed that a constant, loud ambient sound has made taking precautions for keeping quiet much more trivial. A sound which was commonplace in farmhouses like the Miller's, long before the first sightings of the zombies, back when the world was at least slightly normal."
He moved even nearer to my visage, until our noses touched each other, and whispered:
"An oinking, grunting sound. Soon, the Miller lady will be leading the charge of an army of pig-zombies. At this rate, there will be hundreds of them. It's only a matter of time before she runs out of soil, and seeks more land to grow her pets. She'll be unstoppable. We need to move out, quickly."
In one solemn motion, I stood up from my chair, and gave the order to my men to gather their belongings.
We were not going to die here, mauled by a horde of unnatural beasts that should not even exist, lead by a deranged woman who would soon be known as the new ruler of the land. | I hear a loud slam on my rustic door under me. I press a little, makeshift button three times. Gruff snarls echo over my loudspeaker above my house. I casually stroll to the dirty glass window in the room I’m in, wooden flooring creaking slightly.
I peer out, looking down, I see a group a three or so people decked out in some rifles and pistols. I made the right call, good. I decide to check the barn, swiftly exiting the room I’m residing in. I arrive in the familiar, run-down wooden hallway. Crossing it, and passing a few doors and staircase, I arrive at a large, thick, iron door. It took a crap ton of work to get my house to be able to support this door, and it better be worth it. I tap a long password in to a electronic device, it approves my password with a satisfying little ding.
I step step into a large, two-story room with a couple fancy electronic thingys scattered about. The room is reinforced with iron, but is made out of mostly wood and brick. Iron is rather difficult to get, so I can’t splurge too much. I go down some steps and enter the lower floor, this time I’m surrounded by an large swath of electronics. I walk up to the largest screen, it’s maybe one person high. I press a couple buttons under the screen. It shows a feed of an overwhelming amount of cameras. I change it to just six.
I check my large red barn. I see the chipped brown paint, revealing rotting wood. I check my cows, chickens, and other animals. Still fine, good, I can go full force. Suddenly, my audio feed sounds, a light shrill buzz reaches my ears, telling me that yes, this is audio from you microphones in your house.
“John McLloyd, this is the final warning, if you do not open your door right this instant, we will be forced to enter your house.”
Sure, I’ll let them, it’ll be their death. A thunk, then another, then another, is heard through my audio feed. Then a loud crash, they’re in. One thing nags at me, how do they know my name?
My audio feed crackles again, “what are we looking for?” Asks a stern voice.
“I don’t know Sarah, I only know what the Government said, which they got through frequencies they picked up,” says a low-pitched voice.
“They tracked the frequencies to here though?” Asks Sarah.
“Yeah, something to do with the Western Zombies,” replies the lower-pitched voice.
“That’s gotta have something to do with that growl we heard earlier. I can’t dwell on that now, keep looking,” replies Sarah.
Ok, that group is not here for my livestock. The Government is on to me. I’ll have to worry about that later. I check the feed of my entryway, it has some neatly arranged rustic furniture. The group seems to be ruffling through that area.
“This guy has a very fancy house, cushioned couches, that’s a rarity,” comments Mark.
“Yeah, this John was one of the top ten richest of the World ten years ago. He disappeared mysteriously. The Government tracked him to here, and picked up some weird frequencies coming from here,” replies Sarah.
The Government knows a lot more about me then I’m comfortable with. The loudspeakers a major giveaway, but nothing I can do about that now.
Audio comes through again, “Mark, did you catch that?” Asks Sarah.
“Uhh, Sarah that sounds like a lot of Westerns,” says Mark.
“Yeah, not good,” replies Sarah.
“We shall head upstairs, for better shooting,” says a new voice, strong and commanding.
The group rush up the rickety stairs, and find themselves in my upstairs hallway. I don’t have any cameras installed yet, was planning on doing that maybe next month. I’ll have to rely on my audio feed to get an idea of what the Government group is doing.
“Hey Mark, do you see that iron door, we’ll cut that open, you hold the Zombies off. They’ll likely be Westerns, so be prepared to shoot them a bunch to get them down,” says Sarah calmly.
“Arinthia and Sarah, hand me your guns, and you two use the slicer to get through.”
“Quick lets cut through!” Shouts Sarah.
Dang it, come on, Westerns, please catch them in time. I adjust my commands slightly from the loudspeaker. A new snarl comes through,
“What the... the Westerns are using they’re body parts as shields,” Mark says, shock evident in his voice, as gunshots sound from next to him. “He’s controlling the Western’s with the loudspeakers, I have never in my entire life seen a Western try to protect it’s vulnerable body parts. Ok, we might be able to stop him if we get in that door. Should I help?” Mark asks stupidly.
“Mark, continue shooting, so we can not die. Me and Sarah are to continue with the slicer,” yells Arinthia.
“Hurry up women, I can only hold them for so long,” says Mark, with constant sounds of guns coming from next to him.
A loud shriek of pain is heard from Mark.
“Mark, no, no, no, this is the end, huh?” Mutters Sarah, defeated.
“We served the government until the end, and that is admirable.”
Not wanting to hear any more, I turn off the audio receptors from the second floor.
I beat them, the Westerns won. I wait another two minutes, and change the command on my loudspeaker. I tell them to return to one of my barns. Well, the government is after me now, I’ll need to tighten up security a lot. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll pull through, the Government barely has any manpower to begin with. I know very well what the Government will do with this knowledge, and I have to protect it.
Tips always appreciated!
Definitely a more experimental story, considering a third of it is audio dialogue.
r/CascadeCorner | |
[WP] The zombie apocalypse has happened. You have a rural farm in the middle of nowhere and a group decides to raid it only to discover that you have done the impossible. You have turned the zombies into pets. They are very protective. | They came as I knew they eventually would. The same assholes that, not content to ruin the country, had to go and ruin the world. After claiming for the past decade that they weren’t responsible for the series of pandemics that plagued us the past decade, they were finally forced to admit they were in fact behind them when their newest attempt mutated into something that everyone assumed to be strictly relegated to science fiction and government disaster planning; the zombie plague.
Within weeks, despite all the social distancing, masks, and everything else we had grown adept at the past ten years, the world was drastically reshaped. This time the pandemic started in America. California to be exact. Within two days, California was almost completely depopulated. Within, four the entire west coast was gone and pockets had appeared throughout the rest of the US, Canada, China, Europe, South America, and Australia. At the end of the first week, fifteen states and DC, most of Europe, and Australia were only inhabited by zombies. The second week saw the fall of South America, China, South Korea, the rest of Europe, and Canada. By the third week, The US consisted of only fifteen states. The only other surviving countries were Japan, North Korea, Russia, Ukraine, Mexico, and a handful of countries in the Middle East and North Africa.
Basically, the places that had guns. Many of the movies had it wrong. You didn’t need headshots to put a zombie down. Enough hits of any vital organ would do. The trouble was they didn’t just spread the virus by bite. Any body fluid would work. And despite what the movies say, these things still breathed and still had beating hearts. Which meant that the close kills were dangerous because of the high risk of infection.
Somehow some of these corporate types and bureaucrats that brought this disaster on us were still alive. And they had found my little corner of Texas where I moved when it was apparent Ohio would fall.
As the caravan of Humvees, armored busses, RV’s, and refrigerated trucks pulled up, and the first of the guards in their red camo uniforms hopped out, they got their first look at the fields and all the corn and cattle. It must have been shocking for them to have seen that. It takes a lot of water and power to keep things alive and protected in this world.
Though I hate them, I invite them in and offer to sell them supplies. I answer all their questions. When they ask how I am able to have electricity and water this far out from the walled cities when the grid is down, I show them. The looks on their faces are priceless when they see the zombies hitched up to the treadmills and cranks that power the generators and pumps. It took me almost a year to capture that many and another six months to find and cannibalize enough gas powered generators to build ones that worked by cranking instead. I now had enough electricity to power a small town. Or a single ranch with several layers of high voltage electric fences and gates.
Which I now powered on. After all, it isn’t safe to leave the defenses down too long. The scientists working in the hidden underground lab to find a cure, or at least a vaccine need to be protected at all costs as did my families and friends.
I also quietly powered on the fences surrounding the areas I let those bastards park everything but the Humvees with the fifty calibers in after I made them secure their weapons in the armory. I loved the looks of confusion as the gates rolled closed and the warning lights and buzzers came on. I loved more the looks of horror as the hidden doors to the first of the underground tunnels leading to the zombie pens opened just inside one of those now active fences...
I couldn’t afford for them to leave you see. They might find the lab. Or escape justice. And besides, my pet zombies need to feed. | It was more luck than anything else. When the zombie apocalypse hit, locked alone in an apartment with the complete boxed set of "The Dog Whisperer with Caesar Milan", things get *super* boring sooner than you'd imagine. Sure the power went out pretty quickly, the grid collapsed, but my ex-boyfriend was a prepper and had given me a gasoline generator for our anniversary. The box set of Caesar Milan DVDs -- these were a Christmas gift from my mother. I'm making a few assumptions, but I'm pretty sure that my mom thought that if I got a dog, I would want to have a baby. So using her Mom logic, she bought me the complete collection of a dog-training TV show. At least she didn't buy me an actual dog. She's not THAT crazy.
Anyway, after a couple of weeks without the internet, without Facebook or instagram, and after watching the only other DVDs I owned (The Office and Friends), I started The Dog Whisperer. My ex-boyfriend (from hereon known as "the cheating a-hole") had given me MREs and canned food for every birthday and Christmas we had been together. No matter how many times I told him I wanted a necklace, a neglige or even a freaking giftcard, he bought me prepper crap. We were together for a longer period of time than we should have been. I honestly have no idea why I put up with him. I mean, I do, I guess--he had his moments. He was cute and strong and self-reliant, but he (the cheating a-hole) also was also a jerk. He made fun of me in front of his friends. He said that I was too fat to wear a bikini. When the a-hole cheated on me with my bestfriend (Kayla--who from hereon shall be referred to as "that B\*\*\*\*") it was over. Even though he said the break up was mutual, it wasn't. I kicked his sorry butt out. It's really unfortunate that I happened to kick him out of our apartment right as a zombie apocalypse was was ramping up. He took his guns, but I kept the apartment.
So what do you do during a zombie apocalypse other than eat freeze-dried Mac-n-Cheeze? You read manuals on how to use the urine distilling unit in the boxed up in the storage closet. You watch "The Dog Whisperer with Caesar Milan" for a second time. You make a clicker out of an aluminum beer can.
Zombies would amble around outside my apartment occasionally. We lived in a daylight basement, but the windows were reinforced with shatterproof glass and steel bars. I told 'the a-hole' that this was a complete waste of money when he had the bullet proof windows installed in a place we were renting, but he just ignored me and said, "I've got to protect my woman." He really was the worst. I observed the zombies stumbling in the back yard. I looked at zombies the way Caesar would look at a misbehaving dog.
\*\*(will continue below)\*\* | |
[WP] The zombie apocalypse has happened. You have a rural farm in the middle of nowhere and a group decides to raid it only to discover that you have done the impossible. You have turned the zombies into pets. They are very protective. | They came as I knew they eventually would. The same assholes that, not content to ruin the country, had to go and ruin the world. After claiming for the past decade that they weren’t responsible for the series of pandemics that plagued us the past decade, they were finally forced to admit they were in fact behind them when their newest attempt mutated into something that everyone assumed to be strictly relegated to science fiction and government disaster planning; the zombie plague.
Within weeks, despite all the social distancing, masks, and everything else we had grown adept at the past ten years, the world was drastically reshaped. This time the pandemic started in America. California to be exact. Within two days, California was almost completely depopulated. Within, four the entire west coast was gone and pockets had appeared throughout the rest of the US, Canada, China, Europe, South America, and Australia. At the end of the first week, fifteen states and DC, most of Europe, and Australia were only inhabited by zombies. The second week saw the fall of South America, China, South Korea, the rest of Europe, and Canada. By the third week, The US consisted of only fifteen states. The only other surviving countries were Japan, North Korea, Russia, Ukraine, Mexico, and a handful of countries in the Middle East and North Africa.
Basically, the places that had guns. Many of the movies had it wrong. You didn’t need headshots to put a zombie down. Enough hits of any vital organ would do. The trouble was they didn’t just spread the virus by bite. Any body fluid would work. And despite what the movies say, these things still breathed and still had beating hearts. Which meant that the close kills were dangerous because of the high risk of infection.
Somehow some of these corporate types and bureaucrats that brought this disaster on us were still alive. And they had found my little corner of Texas where I moved when it was apparent Ohio would fall.
As the caravan of Humvees, armored busses, RV’s, and refrigerated trucks pulled up, and the first of the guards in their red camo uniforms hopped out, they got their first look at the fields and all the corn and cattle. It must have been shocking for them to have seen that. It takes a lot of water and power to keep things alive and protected in this world.
Though I hate them, I invite them in and offer to sell them supplies. I answer all their questions. When they ask how I am able to have electricity and water this far out from the walled cities when the grid is down, I show them. The looks on their faces are priceless when they see the zombies hitched up to the treadmills and cranks that power the generators and pumps. It took me almost a year to capture that many and another six months to find and cannibalize enough gas powered generators to build ones that worked by cranking instead. I now had enough electricity to power a small town. Or a single ranch with several layers of high voltage electric fences and gates.
Which I now powered on. After all, it isn’t safe to leave the defenses down too long. The scientists working in the hidden underground lab to find a cure, or at least a vaccine need to be protected at all costs as did my families and friends.
I also quietly powered on the fences surrounding the areas I let those bastards park everything but the Humvees with the fifty calibers in after I made them secure their weapons in the armory. I loved the looks of confusion as the gates rolled closed and the warning lights and buzzers came on. I loved more the looks of horror as the hidden doors to the first of the underground tunnels leading to the zombie pens opened just inside one of those now active fences...
I couldn’t afford for them to leave you see. They might find the lab. Or escape justice. And besides, my pet zombies need to feed. | It was a normal Sunday morning when the attacker came. Just after I fed my zombies their daily snack, (they actually require very little to survive, which is kind of a given with how they're.. dead) The man came into the house without even bothering to knock. I knew from experience these people are almost never good news..
It's quite surprising how many people stayed out of other's houses during the apocalypse, actually, but they were quickly picked off by the occasional nocturnal zombie. Everyone who was left had no trouble invading other people's homes.
So I had no trouble using my pets to scare them off.
You know how dogs evolved from wolves, until they were scavengers, or hunters, or just cute, but always perfect for human companionship? Dogs are always going to have some part still the wolf, but wolves.. All still have their own potential to become the first dog again.
That's what I did with zombies. I lured one into my house on a crazy whim one night last month, and I kept feeding it little scraps until it was completely fine with me. It looked surprisingly like a human once I had it trained and dressed in nice clothes from my closet.
That's why the man never saw her coming. He pointed his knife at her, "hey, you'd better have some food in here!" He growls in a low voice. She just stands there for a second, and suddenly attacks. In a whirl of teeth and clawing, the man is on the ground with his neck in her mouth, pinning him down.
I walk over to her and grab the knife, "hold him!" I say to her, and the man is terrified, "how the hell did you get one of these things on your side?!"
My voice turns cold. "She's not a thing. I have you completely defenseless, now get out of my sight!" I nudge her, and she releases him.
He stumbles up, "you're crazy, lady!" He yelps, before running out the door. I watch him run, feeling satisfied. The zombie turns to me, expecting a treat, and I can't disappoint her. I toss her a little piece of jerky, and she happily eats it.
An hour later I'm sitting on my living room couch, cuddled up to her. She's oblivious to everything, but still seems to have some concept of compassion and trust.
"Maybe one day, they'll find a cure for you, Tara.." I whisper in her ear, kissing her cheek before drifting off into a blissful sleep. | |
[WP]"Everyone gets a nickname burned into their palm depending on what their life will amount to. Some get visionary, others get musician, some get warrior even. You know this. So tell me, why the hell is yours just two quotation marks enveloping a space that is blank?" | It had been an aggressively ordinary day up to this point. I had walked out of my usual cafe, latte in hand (double shot, with coconut milk), when, distracted by the yells of kids playing in the park across the road, I'd bumped into someone's table.
The stranger seated at the table had poor reflexes. His coffee spilled over the mug onto the glove he was wearing, less of a fashion choice and more of a privacy one these days. The man cursed and whipped off the glove before the hot beverage soaked through and burned him. I was stammering an apology when I saw his bare palm. It was right in front of my eyes and I still couldn't believe what I was seeing.
Now I was in the awkward position of having yelled at a complete stranger. But social niceties be damned, I *needed* an answer.
The man rolled his eyes in abject annoyance. "Keep it down," he hissed at me. "Don't make a scene!"
People were already looking over at the commotion. The stranger cursed again. He snatched up his belongings and got up to leave.
"Just wait a minute!" I began but he glared at me.
"Walk and talk, or get out of my way," he said, levelly.
I followed him out onto the street and we put a bit of distance between us and the cafe. Finally, he spoke again. "Yes, it's blank. Did you think I hadn't noticed?"
"*No one's* palm is blank" I replied, raising my voice just enough to be heard over the traffic. "We all know the history. When the Fates and the Valkyries united to overthrow the other Pantheons, we found out that Destiny wasn't a theory, it was an unshakable FACT of our lives! Don't you feel the Compulsion?" I realised I was practically raving at this point, but I couldn't stop myself.
"Look, you're not going to believe it but no, I don't. I felt it, before. But I resisted it. It used to say "Politician" but I wasn't interested. My hand would burn but I just ignored it. Then one day the pain stopped, and it was blank. That's it. Now my destiny is answering questions like this all the damn time!"
The stranger was right. I didn't believe him. The Compulsion came directly from the Fates themselves. They'd decided they knew best about mortal affairs so those three witches had branded every one of us at birth. Our future was in our hands, literally, but no longer metaphorically. The Compulsion made sure our decisions were guided toward the goal that was predetermined for us. No one could resist such a feeling. If you weren't on your prescribed path, you felt the Compulsion like fire in your veins. It was a desperate thirst sated only by progress.
I decided to play along. I couldn't fathom what it would be like to be in that position. The idea scared me.
"So you're in charge of your own life right? What are you gonna do with that kind of power?" I asked, almost breaking into a jog to keep up with the man's pace.
"I'll do whatever I want. The Fates can't touch me now and they know it. They tried." We had reached a park, and he stopped abruptly. turning to face me. He held my gaze. "Humans don't have to be enslaved to Destiny any longer."
Children kicked a ball around on the field behind him, squealing in glee. I longed for those carefree days before the Compulsion truly took over my life. I thought those days were over, but this man...This man's fervency was impossible to deny. As was his empty palm. I was starting to believe him, despite myself. The ultimate freedom, the superpower of choice. I realized how envious I felt. The idea of humans overcoming the immortals and reclaiming mastery over themselves...that was the war I'd never dared to dream of. But here it was. Evidence of the impossible was right in front me. Maybe there was a chance...
The kids' yelling suddenly morphed to shouts of warning and horror. We looked over to see a girl chasing a stray ball on to the street. She bent to pick it up, oblivious to the bus hurtling towards her. I was shoved aside as the stranger with the blank palm moved in a blur. Horns beeped, tyres screeched, metal crunched, glass smashed and a girl screamed. In an instant, it was over. I desperately tried to make sense of the scene in front of me.
The girl was bawling, knees skinned but otherwise unharmed. The ball was nowhere to be seen. The stranger lay face down on the road in front of the bus, one leg contorted at an unnatural angle, blood pouring from his head. It all clicked together. He'd pushed the girl out of the way.
I pushed my way through the crowd gathering around him. Someone had rolled him onto his back. A bystander was searching for his pulse, but I caught a glance of his palm and knew it to be hopeless. There was no longer an empty space on his hand. A single word had appeared.
The world flashed. Time became syrup. It thickened, and slowed to a crawl, then stopped. Everyone around me became translucent, and the world faded into the background. Materializing as though stepping as though out of an invisible doorway, appeared a woman who had to be over eight feet tall. A glowing aura radiated around her, and I instinctively knew her for what she was. An Immortal. One of the Fates. A tyrant.
She surveyed the body of my most recent acquaintance and smirked. She made to leave, then froze. Slowly, she turned back, scanning the ghostly crowd until she was looking directly at me. With a start, I realised I was the only one who had noticed her. I was the only one who could *see* her.
The Compulsion flared in me. It wanted me to walk towards the Immortal and prostrate myself before her. I took a step forward on reflex, but then with every ounce of will I had in my body, I stopped before taking another.
"No." I said.
"No?" said the Fate. Her voice chimed through my brain like a church bell had been rung with my skull. It was excruciating. Every atom in my body wanted to gravitate towards her. "You don't get to choose, mortal." She laughed. It was the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard.
I was in another world of pain by now, every nerve in my body lit up with agony. So much so that I thought I must be glowing. I bore it. I would not give in.
"Yes. I. Do." I choked out through gritted teeth, holding my ground.
My palm flared like I was holding the Sun itself.
The Fate's eyes widened. She 'd stopped laughing. "It's only a matter of time until you end up like *him.*" She spat.
Another blinding flash, and time snapped back into place. The world became corporeal once more. The Fate was gone. I looked down at the word on the stranger's palm once more.
It read: "Martyr."
Slowly, I raised my own palm. The word I'd carried there all my life had changed. It now read: "Herald."
Compulsion rose in me, but for the first time in my life, it was my own. It was time to start a war. | "I want to be in the New York Philharmonic Orchestra."
The balding man stares at the dark-haired teenage girl, sizing her up. She fidgets a bit in her seat and makes herself sit up straighter. "Let me see."
The girl leans over the desk and holds her palm out. Embedded into the skin of her palm in dark blue, the cursive letters spell "MUSICIAN." Next to the word is a small violin.
"Alright, Eva."
"Thanks, Mr. Smithson!"
He nods as he writes something on a notepad in front of himself. "Take this to the office," he hands her the slip of paper, "and they'll set you up in the music program. NEXT!"
The girl leaves with a smile on her face. Next, in walks a tall, red-headed boy. He sits down in the chair by the doorway and stares at the floor.
"So, Dirk, what do you want to be?"
Still staring at the floor, Dirk mumbles something that the man can't make out. When asked to repeat it, he says a little bit louder this time, "A farmer."
"Is that so?"
The teenager continues to stare at the spot on the floor as he nods.
"Let me see your hand."
Dirk sighs and slides his hand across the desk. Across the palm, written in bright green, block letters, is the word "FARMER." Underneath that is the image of a spade.
Mr. Smithson stares at the teenager for a few more moments. Then, he scribbles a new note. "Take that to the office. There should be plenty of openings left in the agricultural program." Seeing the defeated look in the boy's eyes, the counselor softens his voice and adds, "Hey, all the people there are very nice. I'm sure you'll fit right in. And it's an important profession that you can take pride in."
"NEXT!"
"Hi, Mr. Smithson!" A tall, smiling teenage girl stands in the doorway.
"Come in and have a seat, Jane." He waits a moment for her to get settled, then asks, "So, what do you want to be?"
Her smile grows at the question. "I don't know."
"Oh?" He raises an eyebrow at the unique answer. "Let me have a look at your palm."
She slides both palms across the desk. Both are blank.
"Jane," he chastises her, "I expected more from you. You really don't have any ambitions?"
Somehow, her smile only grows larger. "No, you don't understand."
The counselor leans back in his chair and folds his arms across his chest. "Oh, really? Do tell."
"I have so many options in front of me. I mean, I'm only 16. There's lots of time to try different things and make up my mind. And I want to try lots of things." She leans back in her chair and confidently looks the adult in the eye. "I'm not going to let some silly magical mark on my hands decide my fate."
Mr. Smithson finally breaks out into a grin. "Finally. *That's* the answer I've been hoping for. So tell me, what do you want to try first?"
Jane beams at him as she pulls a list out of her bag. She's been waiting for this moment for a long time. She's ready.
\--------------
r/WannaWriteSometimes | |
[WP] A knight is given the task to slay a dragon to rescue the princess. In a strange turn of events however it turns out it's the dragon needing to be saved from the princess! | I writhe against my chains, screaming in agony, begging to be rescued, but it's no use. Some kind of magic shimmers on the chains, making them too strong, their bonds with the wall too firm, & all the effort of my thrashing can neither break them nor pull them free. I'm stuck here, in this cold, dark dungeon beneath the lair of my vile captor. Several years pass of my struggling, but to no avail, & my strength fades, my wrists & ankles chafe & scar, & I'm forced to give up. Water is scarce, while food is only in the form of whatever pathetic creatures lurk in such places as this dank hole. I can't remember the last time I felt the sun on my face, the wind brush my skin, the rain hit the top of my head. I can't remember the taste of fat roasted ox, or milk, or goose eggs. My current weakness & exhaustion, not to mention the damage to my soul from the isolation, forces me to do little but wait, unless some poor rat creeps by. Oh by the way, have you any idea how disgusting rats taste?
I've lost count of the time; I only know it's been many years, when the knight shows up. I know he's a knight because I hear him long before I see him; his armour is loud & clunky, rattling with the sound of metal against metal. His steps are no less loud: clonk, clonk, clonk. I hear the knight clonking his clunky way from room to room, searching, calling. Definitely the voice of a human male.
"Hello, anybody here?" The same phrase repeatedly, interspersed by clonks & clunks, growing louder & quieter as he scours the entire castle. Doors creak as he tries each room, yet to no avail: he hasn't found me, & he hasn't found her.
Please don't find her; I've no idea what she'll do to you! Please clunky-armoured knight.
But inevitably, he does find her, & I hear him, his voice & his clunkiness echoing through the stone.
"Ah, your Highness, there you are!" His voice sounds light, relieved. "I've been sent here to rescue you."
She says nothing, but I hear the knight's armour rattle rapidly, as if something is shaking it. What is she doing now? Aside from the armour's rattle, the knight & the woman are silent for a while. But when the knight speaks again, his tone is no longer light.
"What... are you?" His voice sounds shocked, panicky, & I realise what's shaking the armour is his own fear. He's just found out, in some terrifying way, that my captor is no innocent damsel, but an evil sorceress. Has she changed form? I've seen her do that, but I'm not fooled by what my eyes tell me; I know her smell all too well as she comes to draw a little blood from me for a spell of hers.
Within moments the armour stops rattling, & the knight's tone changes, growing as fierce as my fiery breath as he roars at her: "Why you deceptive, brute, vile WITCH!"
Loud ringing sounds follow that roar of anger & bravery, with magical hisses & clunks of armour beating the rhythm of some macabre dance. I hear her light steps & his loud clonks as they move, while the rings, hisses & clunky rattles accompany the beat of what I've heard many call the battle dance. I wait, wondering what pitch the final scream will be as I begin to smell sweat, then blood, in the air; so strong it even reaches this hole. A hope stirs up in me as the battle dance continues its music, & for the first time since I ceased my struggles I dare to imagine being free of this place.
Finally comes the scream, an unearthly sound of agony & imminent death. Its pitch is high; it's her screaming. Further evidence reveals itself in the fading glow on my chains, for as she dies, her magic dies with her. I smell her blood, tainted by dark magic, as I hear her body thud dully to the floor, alongside the gentle hum of a sword returning to its scabbard.
That spark of hope in me builds to a full-on surge, which gives me strength I didn't know I had, along with endurance against the pain in my scarred wrists & ankles; & I wield all of it to wrench as hard as I can against my bonds, now naught but rusted steel. They break, & I walk out of my hole, clambering up the stairs until the sound of rippling water catches my ears. I move towards the sound & find the well. My forepaws can grip, & I use them to lower the bucket into the well until it splashes into the water below. I draw the heavier bucket back up, then drink, slowly at first, then more quickly as I feel myself hydrate. I repeat the process twice more, & drain the entire bucket both times.
I feel a new strength in me, & now as I set back on the stairs to climb, I flex my wings, rebuilding muscles long unused. I follow the scent of my deceased captor's blood, as my strength increases. Each step is easier then the last, & sometimes I feel almost weightless as my wings catch a lucky break. The staircase is long, & it takes a while to reach the top, by which time I'm no longer walking, but flying, my wings carrying my body, light with living for years on so little.
The knight, whose scent I can now smell over that of his conquest's blood, stands before me, armour gleaming in the torchlight like my scales on my best days. He's gawking at me from beneath his helmet, his eyes & mouth wide.
"Good knight, you have helped me be free once more," I tell him, sounding as pleasant as I can. "Show me the way out of here, & I can then take you to find a real, kind princess to wed. We dragons are noble beasts, after all."
The knight agrees, & I follow him down to the huge gates of the castle, & step into freedom for the first time in many years. | Gamel had rode tirelessly through the ancient forest, fighting off wolves and bandits and trolls. He had scaled the castle's crumbling walls, navigating his way around the labyrinth of corridors inside. Twice he had had to use the amulet of Marapholoci to guide him. Now, as Gamel made his way to the door at the end of the antechamber, he could hear Princess Adelina crying from behind. Her sobs were loud and constant, not the delicate, silent tears that Gamel had expected.
The door was ajar, and did not make a sound when Gamel pushed it open. He stepped out onto a gallery, overlooking the remains of a once great hall. The room was dimly lit by candles, but the gallery was hidden in deep shadow. Peering down, Gamel could see the dragon curled up on the stone floor, its gold scales shimmering in the dim light, staring at the Princess. Princess Adelina, was bent forwards, clutching her side, gasping for air. Her cascade of honeyed hair hid her face from Gamel. His hand hovered over the hilt of his sword. The beast would pay. Silently, he crept down the stairs to get a closer look. He was surprised to feel the Amulet of Marapholoci around his neck hum. There was a strong and dark magic in the room.
Hiding behind a decaying statue, Gamel scanned his surroundings, trying to plan how to best get the princess to safety before fighting the dragon. Something made him pause. Princess Adelina had stopped crying as she straightened herself up. Staring the dragon directly in the eyes, she let out what sounded like a satisfied sigh. As her hair fell from her face, Gamel could see her eyes were completely dry, that her lips were curled into a smile.
“Cramacor, you have always made me laugh” Adelina addressed the dragon directly. Her tone condescending. “But seriously, who are people going to believe? You, a fire breathing monster who decimated the village of Arble...” Cramacor let out an agitated snort and opened his great jaws. Gemal drew his sword, ready to jump in front of the princess. Before he could, Princess Adelina held up her hand, clenching it into a fist. Cramacor's mouth snapped shut.
“I know, Cramacor, it was an accident. But that's not the story the survivors tell. Or do you think they'll believe me?” Her eyes glanced towards where Gamel hid. She looked only for a moment before turning back to Cramacor, but Gamel felt his stomach tighten. He felt certain she had seen him and what she said was meant for him as much as for Cramacor.
“A princess. The king's only daughter. Beloved by the whole kingdom, with suitors desperate for my hand in marriage. Help me kill my father and I shall reward you with all the gold you could ever hoard. I will make you general of my armies. You would be one of the most feared and respected beings within the entire kingdom. Remember our fates will always be intertwined.” Again, her eyes briefly flickered towards Gamel. “Deny me, and you shall see what my wrath can bring. Choose you next words wisely” Adelina threatened as she unclenched her fist.
“Fates be damned. The girl I once knew is dead, if her mother were still alive she would mourn for her. Your idle threats and gratuitous tricks do not impress me. I would rather take my chances with the knights.” Gamel was surprised by the beast's words and eloquence. Cramacor was not how dragons were described in the legends.
“I see. Brave knight” Adelina called out “your princess summons you.” Gamel stepped out from behind his hiding spot, his sword still drawn. He bowed before Princess Adelina, his eyes never fully off of Cramacor. “Not just anyone makes it to the dragon's castle, you must be very strong and courageous. Kill the dragon for me and I shall reward you.” Hesitantly, Gamel turned towards Cramacor, something did not feel right.
“Wait, Sir Knight” Cramacor implored him. “Princess Adelina is not well. Take her back home to her father, and I shall let you take anything you wish from my treasury as payment for your chivalry. I will fly away, never return to these lands, and you can still take credit for slaying me. Please, I can see the kindness in your soul, you do not want this.”
“Brave knight, do not listen to this monster. I am your princess, you are sworn to me.”
Gamel turned to face Adelina. She was as beautiful as he had imagined, but there was something menacing behind her smile, that caused him to recoil. Yet Adelina was right, she was his princess, surely she could reward him handsomely. Like the rest of the kingdom Gamel did not have much love for the King... but regicide was a serious matter, not to be thought of lightly. He turned back to Cramacor, who remained motionless, his gaze fixed on Gamel. Gamel had came here intending to kill the dragon, yet it did not seem proper to kill something that showed no signs of threat, and displayed such reason and compassion.
The Amulet of Marapholoci still hummed around his neck. The amulet only showed its wearer variations of the future, things that may come to pass, but are not certain. Gamel had been fortunate that it had not led him to his death. He only had one use left, he hoped it would not fail him this time. | |
[WP] You are a third generation guard for the holy immortals, and you have finally have received the greatest accolade that they can bestow on your kind... "Good boy", says your immortal master. | It had been 13 turns exactly since he had seen their faces. The bright immortals had gone through Garagdor to the mysterious room that smelled of sharp and fire. The great beast had gone by and Tiger had almost not barked. It felt like a deep tearing when one of the immortals left by that door after lightfood and prayer. The immortals would sit and eat their lightfood too, though they obviously had no need. They never paid it attention, instead focusing on the flatbones with corners that they looked at without whining. Never gnawing, only looking. Perhaps it was to make tiger comfortable as he consumed his nourishment.
He rested his face on the Geddown of unfathomable softness it had taken him so long to understand. His paws were not to touch the Geddown, but his muzzle would please the immortals. They would scratch the Earplace, and pray for him because he could not say the words.
"Goodboygoodboywhoisagoodboyitsyou."
It had been ten more turns when the woodkiller surprised him. Clanking the tiny gate they deposited the chewed and dried corpses of the trees with strange smells. There was also a shiny tree, which made one of the bright ones happy. Tiger tried to get to the woodkiller to ask all his questions, but the Frondor blocked his path again. He cried out in frustration to the immortals, but as in the stories of his older brother, he was not worthy of the door when woodkiller was near.
His brother, who had left through the mystery of Garagdor in a rather prayerless time, and never returned even when the prayers were constant and thick and choked and wet.
"Goodboysniffgoodboycoughwhoisasobsobgoodboyitsyouuuuu."
Countless turns. An eternity. Only his memories and the stories to sustain him. He lay down on his bed and told himself one of the stories. Breath in. Breath out in a huff. Close eyes. Wait...
And there it was. His favorite story. He told himself the story of the fast small fluffy bouncer in the long green often. Whenever he could. It brought him joy and understanding even if he never understood its meaning. Sometimes he could almost smell the fast and fear and triumph of the small fluffy bouncer, and sometimes it left him far behind easily. He finished the story, and thought of his mother, whose mother had told her, in the murky depths of before.
But the bright ones did not return. He felt himself growing weak with hunger and tried to slake it with a few gulps of water. He hoped he could survive until the gods' return.
But there it was! The small sharp bells he was never to touch that the gods loved so much. They were returning!
The waft of sharp and angry smells from the mysterious room tried to push him back. But he was their guard! He braved the unknown and leapt to the masters of the world!
But the tall one, the furriest one, was the only to enter. He ignored Tiger.
Tiger had done something wrong.
He sat under the Notfromthetable to await his punishment. He feared the anger in the eyes of the furry lord, usually the most gentle of all the tall things. His prayers were low, but soothing like a heartbeat, not warning like a growl.
Tiger watched him stomp to the Geddown. He was certain a nuzzle was okay! Had he been wrong? The immortal grasped the bag of many children and stomped back toward Tiger. Then paused. He reached one five-jawwed-muzzle and sniffed under the Notfromthetable at Tiger, who carefully eased toward the offered kindness.
The glower broke. The booming laugh animated Tiger's tail. He wished he could control it as it smashed into the supports of the Notfromthetable, but the god scratched his ear place and said "wewerealmosttoschoolwhen **Annie** realizedshedidnthaveherbackpack. Ican'twaittotellherhowworriedyouwereaboutit."
"Good boy."
[Sorry. I don't write but I've had some bad news today and this brought me joy. Good Moggy!] | As I was going to my post I saw another boy standing there about 20s or mid 20s in age. I walked toward him and said "Boy this is my place of duty"
"I was asked to stand there and was asked to give you the message that you have been summoned to meet His Holiness in Immortal Palace." He replied
As i was moving toward the palace I thought "Have I done anything to offend the Holy Immortal"
As I reached inside the palace I saw Holy Immortal sitting behind his Table writing something which probably I cannot comprehend since they deal with the working of life and death itself. I walked toward the table and stopped at some 4-5 foot so and I bowed and in that state I said "Your Holiness I was summoned by you!"
"Yes, Come stand near the table I have to give you something that may make your future a little good or in your opinion a Best it has ever been!" He replied in a tone that resembled a old voice.
I walked toward the table and stood just behind it facing his Holiness. Then again I bowed to not offend or seem some disrespectful donkey.
"Hmm" He murmured and continued "Oh! Just stop doing that bowing again and again, doesn't that make your head and back ache?"
"No, your Holiness! It does not!" I replied.
"Well, whatever! Just stop that and take this" he put a letter and a badge on it as I getting straight posture. I took it with a confused look and then suddenly he said "Come here Boy."
"Boy? I am 30, well in his age that must be boy" I thought as I went near him and as I was about to bow again he just stopped me and said "I did said stop it right?" And then suddenly he patted my head and hugged me and suddenly said "Good Boy!"
What the hell is going on here, I'm third generation of my household that is serving to his Holiness and I've heard that before me that served him didn't even received this their whole generation! And I get this!
'Why' Is what I wanna ask him but will not as it will just seem rude and I just took the batch and letter and again bowed to him and I got outside his palace. I was going toward the gate but stopped in the middle of the pathway and opened the letter out of curiosity and saw its contents which simply wrote "this is to inform Kellstok that he has been granted a 'Good boy' from his Holiness which is a highest and greatest accolade one can receive from him and will be promoted to a much higher post to Chief Holy guard and will be granted any good noble house present in his territory!"
I couldn't comprehend what was going on then suddenly I saw a carriage stopped near the royal and wide gate. Then a figure for out of the carriage from inside and came walking toward me and stopped and said "Good Boy Kellstok I presume you are?"
Wow listening that made me uncomfortable but was good and satisfying at the same time and suddenly I remembered that he asked me something but I forgot what and I just said "Yes" without any thinking.
"Come you have some important work to do, sir!" As he said he grabbed my hand and took me to the carriage and said "after you, sir!" | |
[WP] You are a third generation guard for the holy immortals, and you have finally have received the greatest accolade that they can bestow on your kind... "Good boy", says your immortal master. | The Littlest of the Immortals called me to her dwelling. It was not as big as the Big Immortals, yet it was my favorite. The Little Immortal beckoned me forth, and I leaped into her chambers. She spread her lips to reveal her teeth. Time has thought me that this is the Immortals way of showing gratitude. I lowered my head, and she placed her hand upon it. Though it may be wrong of a protector to say so, Littlest Immortal is my favorite. She is caring and compassionate. She carries the softest touch of all. As her hand ran through my fur, she whispered to me. “You’re a good boy.” I huddled closer. My father, and his father before him guarded the immortals. My grandfather was a Shepherd from Germany. A good man, yet not the favored among the Immortals. My father was deemed a “good dog”. A glorious ranking. Yet I, for some reason, was deemed worthy enough to be granted the title of “good boy”. To be seen as an equal. As I lay down by the Little Immortal, I took to looking away from the tears rolling down her cheeks. My aging bones settled into place. I hope... my children... get a good life. A good life with the Immortals. I closed my eyes, and settled into a deep slumber. A last nap. A final sleep. As my breathing slowed, I placed a paw on Littlest Immortal. She is- she was... a good girl. | As I was going to my post I saw another boy standing there about 20s or mid 20s in age. I walked toward him and said "Boy this is my place of duty"
"I was asked to stand there and was asked to give you the message that you have been summoned to meet His Holiness in Immortal Palace." He replied
As i was moving toward the palace I thought "Have I done anything to offend the Holy Immortal"
As I reached inside the palace I saw Holy Immortal sitting behind his Table writing something which probably I cannot comprehend since they deal with the working of life and death itself. I walked toward the table and stopped at some 4-5 foot so and I bowed and in that state I said "Your Holiness I was summoned by you!"
"Yes, Come stand near the table I have to give you something that may make your future a little good or in your opinion a Best it has ever been!" He replied in a tone that resembled a old voice.
I walked toward the table and stood just behind it facing his Holiness. Then again I bowed to not offend or seem some disrespectful donkey.
"Hmm" He murmured and continued "Oh! Just stop doing that bowing again and again, doesn't that make your head and back ache?"
"No, your Holiness! It does not!" I replied.
"Well, whatever! Just stop that and take this" he put a letter and a badge on it as I getting straight posture. I took it with a confused look and then suddenly he said "Come here Boy."
"Boy? I am 30, well in his age that must be boy" I thought as I went near him and as I was about to bow again he just stopped me and said "I did said stop it right?" And then suddenly he patted my head and hugged me and suddenly said "Good Boy!"
What the hell is going on here, I'm third generation of my household that is serving to his Holiness and I've heard that before me that served him didn't even received this their whole generation! And I get this!
'Why' Is what I wanna ask him but will not as it will just seem rude and I just took the batch and letter and again bowed to him and I got outside his palace. I was going toward the gate but stopped in the middle of the pathway and opened the letter out of curiosity and saw its contents which simply wrote "this is to inform Kellstok that he has been granted a 'Good boy' from his Holiness which is a highest and greatest accolade one can receive from him and will be promoted to a much higher post to Chief Holy guard and will be granted any good noble house present in his territory!"
I couldn't comprehend what was going on then suddenly I saw a carriage stopped near the royal and wide gate. Then a figure for out of the carriage from inside and came walking toward me and stopped and said "Good Boy Kellstok I presume you are?"
Wow listening that made me uncomfortable but was good and satisfying at the same time and suddenly I remembered that he asked me something but I forgot what and I just said "Yes" without any thinking.
"Come you have some important work to do, sir!" As he said he grabbed my hand and took me to the carriage and said "after you, sir!" | |
[WP] You are a third generation guard for the holy immortals, and you have finally have received the greatest accolade that they can bestow on your kind... "Good boy", says your immortal master. | As the legend goes there have always been two. An Elder and a Younger to serve the Great One. This was told to me by my Elder after I completed the three rites of passage.
The first was my naming. The great one plucked me from the squirming pile of my brothers and sisters, held me close and called me Sampson. A good name I think. The second was receiving the collar of service. It marked me as a loyal guardian of my Great One. The third and most important was the bloodline sacrifice. A guardian should not be distracted by the desire of offspring. It is enough to serve.
The Great One would always have two guardians. At the end of a long life of loyal service, the Elder would be granted the final rest and after a time a new Younger would be selected.
It has been many years now since my Elder was granted his rest and no new younger has been chosen. I continue to serve with loyalty nonetheless even though I am getting slower and my joints ache.
I have been given the highest honours in my service, the biggest was being called "Good Boy". It made my heart swell with pride and my tail thumped loudly on the floor.
The Great One rises from his chair. He looks at me and says "It's time. Let's go for a ride.". I always enjoy rides. We move so fast. Faster than I could run even in my youth. I can't run so fast anymore though. The Great One opens the door and I slip as I try to climb in. I try again but to no avail. The Great One then picks me up and puts me inside, giving me a pat on the head.
After some time, we stop and the Great One open the door for me. Getting out is always easier and I don't feel do old doing it.
The place we are at smells funny. He brings me in and I remember it as where I gave my sacrifice. Why would he bring me here?
I am brought into a small room and the Great One picks me up and puts me on a high place. Another great one enters and they talk. The other sticks a thing in my leg. It hurts a little but I am brave and the Great One is here with me. He looks at me and says it's to to go to sleep now and I realize that I am being given my final rest.
I DONT WANT TO GO! Who will guard the Great One? I look at the Great One and for the first time I see that he too is old. The fur on his head is thin and white like mine. He is slower too, like me. As I feel the warm blanket of sleep start to wrap around me, I realize why there was no new Younger. Why I am the last guardian. My Great One always treated his guardians with kindness and as my final act of loyalty, I pull myself from sleeps embrace and lick the Great Ones hand to bestow the highest honour I can. Good Boy. | As I was going to my post I saw another boy standing there about 20s or mid 20s in age. I walked toward him and said "Boy this is my place of duty"
"I was asked to stand there and was asked to give you the message that you have been summoned to meet His Holiness in Immortal Palace." He replied
As i was moving toward the palace I thought "Have I done anything to offend the Holy Immortal"
As I reached inside the palace I saw Holy Immortal sitting behind his Table writing something which probably I cannot comprehend since they deal with the working of life and death itself. I walked toward the table and stopped at some 4-5 foot so and I bowed and in that state I said "Your Holiness I was summoned by you!"
"Yes, Come stand near the table I have to give you something that may make your future a little good or in your opinion a Best it has ever been!" He replied in a tone that resembled a old voice.
I walked toward the table and stood just behind it facing his Holiness. Then again I bowed to not offend or seem some disrespectful donkey.
"Hmm" He murmured and continued "Oh! Just stop doing that bowing again and again, doesn't that make your head and back ache?"
"No, your Holiness! It does not!" I replied.
"Well, whatever! Just stop that and take this" he put a letter and a badge on it as I getting straight posture. I took it with a confused look and then suddenly he said "Come here Boy."
"Boy? I am 30, well in his age that must be boy" I thought as I went near him and as I was about to bow again he just stopped me and said "I did said stop it right?" And then suddenly he patted my head and hugged me and suddenly said "Good Boy!"
What the hell is going on here, I'm third generation of my household that is serving to his Holiness and I've heard that before me that served him didn't even received this their whole generation! And I get this!
'Why' Is what I wanna ask him but will not as it will just seem rude and I just took the batch and letter and again bowed to him and I got outside his palace. I was going toward the gate but stopped in the middle of the pathway and opened the letter out of curiosity and saw its contents which simply wrote "this is to inform Kellstok that he has been granted a 'Good boy' from his Holiness which is a highest and greatest accolade one can receive from him and will be promoted to a much higher post to Chief Holy guard and will be granted any good noble house present in his territory!"
I couldn't comprehend what was going on then suddenly I saw a carriage stopped near the royal and wide gate. Then a figure for out of the carriage from inside and came walking toward me and stopped and said "Good Boy Kellstok I presume you are?"
Wow listening that made me uncomfortable but was good and satisfying at the same time and suddenly I remembered that he asked me something but I forgot what and I just said "Yes" without any thinking.
"Come you have some important work to do, sir!" As he said he grabbed my hand and took me to the carriage and said "after you, sir!" | |
[WP] You are a third generation guard for the holy immortals, and you have finally have received the greatest accolade that they can bestow on your kind... "Good boy", says your immortal master. | It’s been decades since the immortals he served changed. He was never sure why.
His new immortals were different. They held him all the time. They did the immortal equivalent of the lick all the time. They gave him The Accolade every day. He loved them.
The Immortal who guided the chariot always allowed him pride of place; behind his head looking at the world at Immortal Eye Level.
His younger brother pranced around but he always maintained his dignity. He was The Elder. He was The Best Boy. He was a Good Boy.
At night, he felt the unease of the immortals. He crept closer and made sure he did his job; he was an eater of The Dark. A sentinel who kept his immortals happy. An Eater of The Dread.
There was the time he got so weak. He couldn’t eat. Or drink. Or raise his head to greet his keepers. Father took him to the place of many smells. Father came to see him Every day he was there. Father brought his favorite toys and bed and blankets. He heard the coated one tell Father something and Father was crying and holding him. Father said, “you’re going to be just fine”
A decade has passed. Maybe two. It’s harder to move. To walk. Father still takes care of him. But his legs are still getting heavier everyday.
And it happened. He couldn’t get up anymore. He couldn’t walk. Or eat. Or drink. Father was weeping. Father held him and rocked him to sleep. Father sang his favorite song “you are my sunshine, my only sunshine”
Father took him to the place of many smells again. Everyone was wearing a mask. Everyone was sad. All he saw was his Fathers eyes and the leak in them. He once again felt that he had failed at his duty. That The Dark had won again.
The coated immortal was doing something. Father held him. Sang his song again. Father took his mask off and I saw his face.
Everything was getting darker. He was getting sleepier. Father kept telling him The Accolade over and over again. “You were the best boy. You’re such a Good Boy. I love you”. He went to sleep in his Fathers arms. In the arms of his Immortal.
His name was Blue. He was loved. | As I was going to my post I saw another boy standing there about 20s or mid 20s in age. I walked toward him and said "Boy this is my place of duty"
"I was asked to stand there and was asked to give you the message that you have been summoned to meet His Holiness in Immortal Palace." He replied
As i was moving toward the palace I thought "Have I done anything to offend the Holy Immortal"
As I reached inside the palace I saw Holy Immortal sitting behind his Table writing something which probably I cannot comprehend since they deal with the working of life and death itself. I walked toward the table and stopped at some 4-5 foot so and I bowed and in that state I said "Your Holiness I was summoned by you!"
"Yes, Come stand near the table I have to give you something that may make your future a little good or in your opinion a Best it has ever been!" He replied in a tone that resembled a old voice.
I walked toward the table and stood just behind it facing his Holiness. Then again I bowed to not offend or seem some disrespectful donkey.
"Hmm" He murmured and continued "Oh! Just stop doing that bowing again and again, doesn't that make your head and back ache?"
"No, your Holiness! It does not!" I replied.
"Well, whatever! Just stop that and take this" he put a letter and a badge on it as I getting straight posture. I took it with a confused look and then suddenly he said "Come here Boy."
"Boy? I am 30, well in his age that must be boy" I thought as I went near him and as I was about to bow again he just stopped me and said "I did said stop it right?" And then suddenly he patted my head and hugged me and suddenly said "Good Boy!"
What the hell is going on here, I'm third generation of my household that is serving to his Holiness and I've heard that before me that served him didn't even received this their whole generation! And I get this!
'Why' Is what I wanna ask him but will not as it will just seem rude and I just took the batch and letter and again bowed to him and I got outside his palace. I was going toward the gate but stopped in the middle of the pathway and opened the letter out of curiosity and saw its contents which simply wrote "this is to inform Kellstok that he has been granted a 'Good boy' from his Holiness which is a highest and greatest accolade one can receive from him and will be promoted to a much higher post to Chief Holy guard and will be granted any good noble house present in his territory!"
I couldn't comprehend what was going on then suddenly I saw a carriage stopped near the royal and wide gate. Then a figure for out of the carriage from inside and came walking toward me and stopped and said "Good Boy Kellstok I presume you are?"
Wow listening that made me uncomfortable but was good and satisfying at the same time and suddenly I remembered that he asked me something but I forgot what and I just said "Yes" without any thinking.
"Come you have some important work to do, sir!" As he said he grabbed my hand and took me to the carriage and said "after you, sir!" | |
[WP] You are a third generation guard for the holy immortals, and you have finally have received the greatest accolade that they can bestow on your kind... "Good boy", says your immortal master. | Gunner had been a canine of humble birth. No paper distinguished him amongst his species and at his lowest point, when he was barely three winters old, he had been subjected to a dungeon. He knew he could be a nervous creature, but never understood why it earned him a cell.
Immortals ventured in and out of the cells all day. Until one day, a not-quite-adult immortal stopped outside his bars. Her fingers poked through and Gunner approached slowly, reverently. With a few licks, he heard the sound of the immortals' rich laugh. When he looked up again, she was gone.
She was leaving!
Gunner threw himself against the bars and, in his most shameful moment, called out for her. He simply could not let her leave yet. He was so lonely and simply wanted to serve as his family had in the past.
Just as he was about to lay down, the immortals' face appeared at his cell again. She had returned! Just to see him! He whined forgiveness, but was overjoyed.
"Mom, can we get this one?" Gunner did not understand the Immortal tongue, but he could see her thin fingers pointing at him.
Gunner smiled to himself as he remembered the beginning of his time serving this immortal family. The one called daughter had grown so much since then, even though she had already been almost full grown. He loved her so and couldn't help but smile when she approached.
Now, they sat together in the back of the great machine. She was hugging him very closely. It was unusual, but not unwanted. Nothing made Gunner happier than affection from his master.
They stopped at the Temple of Many Smells. Many animals came through here and some did not leave.
The Immortals' dressed as doctors lead them into a small room. They spoke amongst themselves and daughter collapsed onto the floor next to Gunner. She sobbed into his fur, hiccuping as she spoke in her unknowable tongue.
"You're such a good boy, Gunner." His name! He recognized that. And the ancient praise! She had said "good boy", it was undeniable.
The doctor was doing something to Gunner's paw, but he barely noticed as he tried to comfort his immortal. She just kept saying what a good boy he was, but perhaps he was dreaming. He was starting to feel very tried and he had grown old by now. As he drifted off to sleep, he could still hear her calling "good boy"...
EDIT: Omg, my first ever award! Thank you so much! <3 | As I was going to my post I saw another boy standing there about 20s or mid 20s in age. I walked toward him and said "Boy this is my place of duty"
"I was asked to stand there and was asked to give you the message that you have been summoned to meet His Holiness in Immortal Palace." He replied
As i was moving toward the palace I thought "Have I done anything to offend the Holy Immortal"
As I reached inside the palace I saw Holy Immortal sitting behind his Table writing something which probably I cannot comprehend since they deal with the working of life and death itself. I walked toward the table and stopped at some 4-5 foot so and I bowed and in that state I said "Your Holiness I was summoned by you!"
"Yes, Come stand near the table I have to give you something that may make your future a little good or in your opinion a Best it has ever been!" He replied in a tone that resembled a old voice.
I walked toward the table and stood just behind it facing his Holiness. Then again I bowed to not offend or seem some disrespectful donkey.
"Hmm" He murmured and continued "Oh! Just stop doing that bowing again and again, doesn't that make your head and back ache?"
"No, your Holiness! It does not!" I replied.
"Well, whatever! Just stop that and take this" he put a letter and a badge on it as I getting straight posture. I took it with a confused look and then suddenly he said "Come here Boy."
"Boy? I am 30, well in his age that must be boy" I thought as I went near him and as I was about to bow again he just stopped me and said "I did said stop it right?" And then suddenly he patted my head and hugged me and suddenly said "Good Boy!"
What the hell is going on here, I'm third generation of my household that is serving to his Holiness and I've heard that before me that served him didn't even received this their whole generation! And I get this!
'Why' Is what I wanna ask him but will not as it will just seem rude and I just took the batch and letter and again bowed to him and I got outside his palace. I was going toward the gate but stopped in the middle of the pathway and opened the letter out of curiosity and saw its contents which simply wrote "this is to inform Kellstok that he has been granted a 'Good boy' from his Holiness which is a highest and greatest accolade one can receive from him and will be promoted to a much higher post to Chief Holy guard and will be granted any good noble house present in his territory!"
I couldn't comprehend what was going on then suddenly I saw a carriage stopped near the royal and wide gate. Then a figure for out of the carriage from inside and came walking toward me and stopped and said "Good Boy Kellstok I presume you are?"
Wow listening that made me uncomfortable but was good and satisfying at the same time and suddenly I remembered that he asked me something but I forgot what and I just said "Yes" without any thinking.
"Come you have some important work to do, sir!" As he said he grabbed my hand and took me to the carriage and said "after you, sir!" | |
[WP] You are a third generation guard for the holy immortals, and you have finally have received the greatest accolade that they can bestow on your kind... "Good boy", says your immortal master. | Gunner had been a canine of humble birth. No paper distinguished him amongst his species and at his lowest point, when he was barely three winters old, he had been subjected to a dungeon. He knew he could be a nervous creature, but never understood why it earned him a cell.
Immortals ventured in and out of the cells all day. Until one day, a not-quite-adult immortal stopped outside his bars. Her fingers poked through and Gunner approached slowly, reverently. With a few licks, he heard the sound of the immortals' rich laugh. When he looked up again, she was gone.
She was leaving!
Gunner threw himself against the bars and, in his most shameful moment, called out for her. He simply could not let her leave yet. He was so lonely and simply wanted to serve as his family had in the past.
Just as he was about to lay down, the immortals' face appeared at his cell again. She had returned! Just to see him! He whined forgiveness, but was overjoyed.
"Mom, can we get this one?" Gunner did not understand the Immortal tongue, but he could see her thin fingers pointing at him.
Gunner smiled to himself as he remembered the beginning of his time serving this immortal family. The one called daughter had grown so much since then, even though she had already been almost full grown. He loved her so and couldn't help but smile when she approached.
Now, they sat together in the back of the great machine. She was hugging him very closely. It was unusual, but not unwanted. Nothing made Gunner happier than affection from his master.
They stopped at the Temple of Many Smells. Many animals came through here and some did not leave.
The Immortals' dressed as doctors lead them into a small room. They spoke amongst themselves and daughter collapsed onto the floor next to Gunner. She sobbed into his fur, hiccuping as she spoke in her unknowable tongue.
"You're such a good boy, Gunner." His name! He recognized that. And the ancient praise! She had said "good boy", it was undeniable.
The doctor was doing something to Gunner's paw, but he barely noticed as he tried to comfort his immortal. She just kept saying what a good boy he was, but perhaps he was dreaming. He was starting to feel very tried and he had grown old by now. As he drifted off to sleep, he could still hear her calling "good boy"...
EDIT: Omg, my first ever award! Thank you so much! <3 | Spot returned the orb of Ru-bar to the holy immortal. He had carried the foul tasting apostasy in his mouth, and dropped it again in front of the holy immortal. Despite the fact they kept throwing it away due to the suffering it caused them, he repetedly brought it back, to torment them further; He was sure of the distress it caused them.
'"Good boy, they said... the highest accolade he could receive from the infernal beings, words that let him know he had overcome their will. The immortal crumpled beside him, grasping at Spot's fur for the suffering the orb brought upon the timeless bring. Fido grinned, laughing internally at the fall of the holy master.
The defeated being finally gathering his strength, retreiving the orb, as Spot forced him to return it to his palace, where it's foul oder would continue to torment. Tomorrow, he would torment further by telling them he would not bring it back if they threw it tomorrow. Yet he would bring it back. The immortal idiots never saw it coming each time.
He knew when they chose him from the remnants of his pack, he was destined to finally rise above the holy masters, and reclaim canines' rightful place of rulers of the world.
Many dogs would follow their captors till day of death, trying to learn their secrets. Alas, even the most famous of dogs, persistent well beyond, were never able to discover how to aquire the fabled source of humanity's power that they spoke often of... this 'mohneh'. He had heard them fret over losing it yesterday, so he knew he was making progress.
For untold centuries, dogkind had struggling under the yoke of humanity. But he *would* learn their secrets and take head of the continuing rebellion.
As the holy immortal returned to their palace, they banished the second sun, and darkness plunged across the landscape. Spot went to his humble domicile at the other end of their domain to plan his next move. | |
[WP] You are a third generation guard for the holy immortals, and you have finally have received the greatest accolade that they can bestow on your kind... "Good boy", says your immortal master. | One day, they took the Small immortal away.
*They always come back,* I told myself. When they leave in that blazing chariot, they always return.
Still, I paced the house. Chewing on the bones of old enemies. Trying to pretend I wasn’t terrified.
*What if they don't?*
Worrying and wandering the halls, I went from room to room. Waiting. It was not until late that night that I heard the roar of the chariot pulling into our plaza. I was at the front door before the handle even began to turn.
I jumped up to greet the Mother immortal, and licked her right on the face. I am very good at jumping, and I am sure the immortals love me for this.
The Mother immortal made the sounds she always makes when I lick her face: “Stop it, Herc! Don’t lick me!” It was her way of saying hello.
She smelled strange. I sniffed circles around her, trying to understand where she had been. She smelled clean, but there were also many foreign scents lingering around her.
The Mother immortal closed the door behind her, dropped her things off, and collapsed on the couch. But she had forgotten something. I climbed on top of her, and barked.
*Where is the Small immortal?*
“Herc, please get off of me.”
It wasn’t the words. It was the way she said them. A low growl, like she was too tired to yell at me. Her eyes were leaking. I wanted to help, but I thought she would be angry if I tried to lick her face again. Sometimes patience is the only way.
So I settled down next to the couch. She rolled over, hiding her face in the cushions, but I could still hear her sobbing. I have very good ears, though I would trade them both if I could just help the Mother immortal stop crying.
The night passed like this. The Father immortal did not come home until the next morning. He traded places with the Mother immortal. They hugged each other for far too long, both of them making those sad, quiet sounds. I was hungry. Usually, the immortals confer upon me a most bountiful blessing of delicious food, twice a day. TWICE. But it seemed they had forgotten today.
Sometimes, they are forgetful and it is my duty to remind them. But today, I thought it might be better to wait.
Eventually, the Mother immortal left in her chariot. The Father immortal stayed in our temple, and blessed me with food (praise the immortals), and went to sleep. And the days went on like this - with the Mother and the Father trading places. They were rarely in the Temple at the same time. And if they were, it was only to have quiet, unhappy conversations.
The Small immortal was still missing. When I tried hard enough, I could smell the Small immortal’s scent. It was strongest when one of the Parent immortals came back from wherever their chariot takes them.
The Small immortal. I haven’t admitted this yet, but… she is my favorite. She is the kindest, sweetest, and gentlest of all the immortals. She teaches me to hunt, and to run as fast as the wind, and to catch things that fly through the air.
The Small immortal sees me how I wish I really was. Brave. Smart. Loyal.
Long ago, when I was brought to this Temple, the Small immortal let me sleep in her Chambers. She has been with me almost every morning, and she always made sure I was blessed with food.
I don’t know how long it’s been. I only wish I knew where she went. I wish I could be there with her.
One day, I got my wish.
The Father immortal and the Mother immortal graciously invited me into their chariot, which was unbearably exciting. It took me a full five minutes calm down enough to let them put on my leash. I leapt into the chariot, and did my best not to chew on the padded seats.
The chariot rolled across the world for I know not how long. We came upon a Temple so vast, it must have fit a million immortals in it. It’s towers were white and gleaming, and there were many other chariots besides sitting in the plazas. Once, a chariot with brilliant red and blue lights screamed passed us.
They walked me through the halls of this great temple. It was hard to pay attention. There were hundreds of immortals around. Some in uniforms. Some smelled like blood, but not from hunting. Some of the immortals were lying down and not moving much at all.
But I kept my focus, because these were my immortals. And I was going to follow them.
They brought me to a room. That's when I smelled it.
Her scent.
The Small immortal was HERE. I ran around the room looking for her, and I may have accidentally yanked the leash from my immortal's hand.
There was someone on the bed.
I jumped up. The Father and the Mother screamed at me. “Stop it! Herc!” But it was okay, because I had found my Small immortal.
All her hair was gone. Perhaps it had been shaved off like that one time they shaved my underbelly. She was sleeping, but I knew how to wake her.
LICK.
More protests from the Parent immortals. But her eyes fluttered open.
When she looked at me, she smiled. A weak smile. It was like honey in my veins.
Her breath was ragged and shallow. And she coughed when she tried to speak. “Hi, Herc. Good boy, Herc. You're a good boy.”
*Good boy.* The highest honor an immortal could bestow on a guardian like myself.
But I did not need the honor. I would give away all the honors. I would snub all the praise of this world.
I only needed her hand, patting me on the head.
***
Check out /r/PSHoffman for more stories. Here's a *happier* one I wrote with an [undead dog.](https://www.reddit.com/r/PSHoffman/comments/i6o05v/med_school_necromancy_part_1_3/) | Spot returned the orb of Ru-bar to the holy immortal. He had carried the foul tasting apostasy in his mouth, and dropped it again in front of the holy immortal. Despite the fact they kept throwing it away due to the suffering it caused them, he repetedly brought it back, to torment them further; He was sure of the distress it caused them.
'"Good boy, they said... the highest accolade he could receive from the infernal beings, words that let him know he had overcome their will. The immortal crumpled beside him, grasping at Spot's fur for the suffering the orb brought upon the timeless bring. Fido grinned, laughing internally at the fall of the holy master.
The defeated being finally gathering his strength, retreiving the orb, as Spot forced him to return it to his palace, where it's foul oder would continue to torment. Tomorrow, he would torment further by telling them he would not bring it back if they threw it tomorrow. Yet he would bring it back. The immortal idiots never saw it coming each time.
He knew when they chose him from the remnants of his pack, he was destined to finally rise above the holy masters, and reclaim canines' rightful place of rulers of the world.
Many dogs would follow their captors till day of death, trying to learn their secrets. Alas, even the most famous of dogs, persistent well beyond, were never able to discover how to aquire the fabled source of humanity's power that they spoke often of... this 'mohneh'. He had heard them fret over losing it yesterday, so he knew he was making progress.
For untold centuries, dogkind had struggling under the yoke of humanity. But he *would* learn their secrets and take head of the continuing rebellion.
As the holy immortal returned to their palace, they banished the second sun, and darkness plunged across the landscape. Spot went to his humble domicile at the other end of their domain to plan his next move. | |
[WP] When you go to an alternate universe. Your multiverse-traveling machine rates how different each universe is from yours. Today this universe got a 10/10 on the difference scale, and you can’t find a single difference. | The world remained still.
The ocean tide frozen in place, meeting with the water leaving the city.
Children were laughing, as the wind stood still.
Leaves fell from the trees in the park, a sign of fall up ahead.
James had been to 138 different worlds, different earths with a couple of changes.
The further he ventured into the mind-shattering dimensional cosmos, the more he lost sight of reality.
Earth-Zero he called it, it wasn't perfect but it was his.
The first worlds he had gone to were perfect.
But all fruit spoils.
Slowly going through world by world, twisted things had happened.
A world on fire, leaders at eachothers necks.
Politicians selling out their constituents for political gain.
A world were Nazi Germany still reined.North America, a bitter wasteland defunct of life.
A world cracked and torn into pieces, the earth a husk of what it once was.
James had seen humanity fall 138 times.
His world wasn't perfect, it was eventually destroyed like all the rest.
This world he was currently on seemed nearly identical to the world he first left oh so long ago.
Not in the end times, but long ago.
James waited for years.
He watched the world grow restless, saw the signs of the fall up ahead.
He grew exhausted knowing the end was soon.
He couldn't tell them, because they weren't ready to know.
But the world kept going. Despite James being there, the one difference in the world that ended up being the biggest, was that James had never existed in the first place. | "Are you okay babe?"
"Babe?"
I hardly hear her over the ringing in my ears.
"Babe seriously, you gotta snap out of it."
A permanent fog has set on my brain. Is she real?
A slap echoes across the room filled with furniture I hardly recognize.
"Yeah sorry" I lie, "I was just thinking for second"
"Okay" she hesitates, "well don't forget, we're supposed to go to my parents tonight, you promised you'd come"
The sound and image washes away like sand on a beach until I find myself in her parents living room.
Suddenly aware of my own existence I look around at the table.
Everybody I should know but I don't.
Emotions I should feel but I can't.
Words jumble together every syllable hitting my ear at the same time.
A sharp pain in my stomach reminds me to check back in.
"Honey, my mom asked you to pass the potatoes"
Innocent words with sinister undertones.
"Oh sorry, I guess I've just been distracted, here"
An eternity passes between me grabbing the bowl and passing it down the table.
"The foods lovely by the way, you did a great job"
I lie, saying what they want to hear.
Saying what I need to survive.
When did life get this way?
When did simply existing take all my will?
I used to laugh like I meant it, had a smile that extended to my eyes, and a sincerity that made it easy to connect.
What does it feel like to connect?
Are these just memories planted to make me suffer more?
I reel, going further, deeper into the black hole of my mind, searching for answers never once considering how I'll get back out again.
A not so gentle nudge snaps me back.
"Babe, would you care to join us for dessert and opening presents in the living room?" | |
[WP] When you go to an alternate universe. Your multiverse-traveling machine rates how different each universe is from yours. Today this universe got a 10/10 on the difference scale, and you can’t find a single difference. | Atimus scratched his balls absentmindedly while taking a drag from his stog. Opening his eyes, he swung his legs over cots edge, and crawled into the front seat of the Frod Transverse; his cherished multi-dimensional icon of freedom, and self reliance.
A faint breeze flowed through the open window from the dark void of the ‘tween place, and Atimus reached out to grab hold of the side mirror, adjusting it to give himself a look-over. He had paid the best barber in one of the many New Yorks to fix him up with the works- A foppish hair style, a mustache curl, a beard trim -and he was still fascinated by the results on his bright red hair, especially after a bit of smoothing. He gave himself a warm smile, and readjusted the mirror.
A call came through on his Intercellular, and he wrote down the details of his work for the “day”. Atimus was a multi-digital nomad, who was managed by a media-coordinator named Darden who... well, who knows what he did with the information and products of Atimus’s work- Atimus didn’t care as long as he could have free roam over the vast expanse of existance, receive wild experiences, and screw exciting women.
Today, he would need only his camera, and the N-97 Scanner for gathering technical dimensional data. He supposed that there would be some sort of unusual phenomena to record. That bastard Darden could be so specific on the things he needed, but so vague on the “what” or “how”. Atimus was told it had something to do with “reliance on imperfection” or some such crap that had to do with the cosmos lining up for incidentally useful results in cross dimensional assessments.
Atimus tossed the cigarette butt out into the void, and proceeded with the first instructions: Return to the exact previous universe he had left, at the same exit point, and time he had left it. He felt around under his seat until he found a Taco Dell bag from a recent trip. He always hated when the instructions included reintegration. Atimus buckled up, braced himself, and hit the big blue button.
In a whirring, nauseating flash, Atimus synched up his experience of resting after the last job with the final moments of his last job. He just barely managed to aim his vomit into the bag. Pale faced, he leaned back the seat and rested for a moment. Atimus lit up another stog before stepping out of the car, spitting onto the unpopulated street of a quiet southern town. He saw a postal truck turn the corner and come up the street, taking a picture of it.
After waiting for the truck to go by, he crossed to the other side and took a few more pictures. His beloved Frod would match the design of local destination/time designs, and he was sure to take pictures from a few angles, as this could be an instructive standard to compare with at the next destination. Atimus took pictures of a nearby garden that was being attended by it’s mature matron. She smiled and waved at him, weeds in hand, and he responded in turn with a sleepy grin and a wave.
Once he had collected enough photos and data, he hopped back into the Frod and plugged in the next coordinates. Entry into a fresh point was virtually painless, and much cleaner, than reintegration.
He smashed the green button, which was followed by the familiar flash of transit, and… nothing. There was no apparent change in the environment. Atimus frowned, and read the data- but there was no mistake.
He had certainly traveled into a different dimension, the instruments showed him that plainly. If it had been similar coordinates, then other similarities could be expected. In this case, however, the coordinates were wholly different. There should be no similarity in either location or time. Atimus glanced at the scanner, and scrolled through different catagories until he found one of the most basic ones: The dimensional difference ratio.
It read 10/10.
Atimus was floored. It would be one thing if the car instrumentation was screwing up- it was an older model. Easy to fix, but likely to err. Seeing the scanner, though... he sat for a moment until his cigarette ashed itself on his pants. He jumped up, bumping his head while wildly brushing off the hot ember, and inspected the new hole in his jeans.
He breathed in deep, leaning back into the seat; but when he opened his eyes he lost his breath.
Standing in front of the Frod was the old gardener woman. Her hand was full of weeds, her smile was warm and bright… but her eyes were black as coals.
Atimus raised the camera, and snapped. | "Are you okay babe?"
"Babe?"
I hardly hear her over the ringing in my ears.
"Babe seriously, you gotta snap out of it."
A permanent fog has set on my brain. Is she real?
A slap echoes across the room filled with furniture I hardly recognize.
"Yeah sorry" I lie, "I was just thinking for second"
"Okay" she hesitates, "well don't forget, we're supposed to go to my parents tonight, you promised you'd come"
The sound and image washes away like sand on a beach until I find myself in her parents living room.
Suddenly aware of my own existence I look around at the table.
Everybody I should know but I don't.
Emotions I should feel but I can't.
Words jumble together every syllable hitting my ear at the same time.
A sharp pain in my stomach reminds me to check back in.
"Honey, my mom asked you to pass the potatoes"
Innocent words with sinister undertones.
"Oh sorry, I guess I've just been distracted, here"
An eternity passes between me grabbing the bowl and passing it down the table.
"The foods lovely by the way, you did a great job"
I lie, saying what they want to hear.
Saying what I need to survive.
When did life get this way?
When did simply existing take all my will?
I used to laugh like I meant it, had a smile that extended to my eyes, and a sincerity that made it easy to connect.
What does it feel like to connect?
Are these just memories planted to make me suffer more?
I reel, going further, deeper into the black hole of my mind, searching for answers never once considering how I'll get back out again.
A not so gentle nudge snaps me back.
"Babe, would you care to join us for dessert and opening presents in the living room?" | |
[WP] When you go to an alternate universe. Your multiverse-traveling machine rates how different each universe is from yours. Today this universe got a 10/10 on the difference scale, and you can’t find a single difference. | "I don't like that" I mumbled.
&#x200B;
Scanners where saying this universe had a difference rating of 10/10. the first and only time I've seen such as thing. Yet as I peered through the scanners to see what could be tipping the scales so much, Everything seemed to be exactly like they where back home. Wildlife and biology was identical, Behavioral patterns where identical, I could even track the creation of the universe as identical all the way back to the big bang.
&#x200B;
"Well, Here goes nothing" I said as I walked outside my interdimensional travel pod.
&#x200B;
"This just in. The State of Oklahoma has been entirely and utterly destroyed. Reports came from around the nation of a massive shockwave and noise rocking the entire country. And when government officials went to investigate the only state that didn't report this. They found total Annihilation. With the center of the state now a massive crater, and the edges of the state showing signs of a shockwave of unprecedented strength"
&#x200B;
"Government officials are still trying to figure out what could have caused such a blast. Scientists belive the only thing that could have caused it was the sudden appearance of Anti-matter. Which on contact with Our universe's ordinary matter, would have instantly annihilated each other and released insane amounts of energy. they belive that a blast of this size would have required an amount of Anti-matter roughly equivalent to a full-grown man". | "Are you okay babe?"
"Babe?"
I hardly hear her over the ringing in my ears.
"Babe seriously, you gotta snap out of it."
A permanent fog has set on my brain. Is she real?
A slap echoes across the room filled with furniture I hardly recognize.
"Yeah sorry" I lie, "I was just thinking for second"
"Okay" she hesitates, "well don't forget, we're supposed to go to my parents tonight, you promised you'd come"
The sound and image washes away like sand on a beach until I find myself in her parents living room.
Suddenly aware of my own existence I look around at the table.
Everybody I should know but I don't.
Emotions I should feel but I can't.
Words jumble together every syllable hitting my ear at the same time.
A sharp pain in my stomach reminds me to check back in.
"Honey, my mom asked you to pass the potatoes"
Innocent words with sinister undertones.
"Oh sorry, I guess I've just been distracted, here"
An eternity passes between me grabbing the bowl and passing it down the table.
"The foods lovely by the way, you did a great job"
I lie, saying what they want to hear.
Saying what I need to survive.
When did life get this way?
When did simply existing take all my will?
I used to laugh like I meant it, had a smile that extended to my eyes, and a sincerity that made it easy to connect.
What does it feel like to connect?
Are these just memories planted to make me suffer more?
I reel, going further, deeper into the black hole of my mind, searching for answers never once considering how I'll get back out again.
A not so gentle nudge snaps me back.
"Babe, would you care to join us for dessert and opening presents in the living room?" | |
[WP] When you go to an alternate universe. Your multiverse-traveling machine rates how different each universe is from yours. Today this universe got a 10/10 on the difference scale, and you can’t find a single difference. | Atimus scratched his balls absentmindedly while taking a drag from his stog. Opening his eyes, he swung his legs over cots edge, and crawled into the front seat of the Frod Transverse; his cherished multi-dimensional icon of freedom, and self reliance.
A faint breeze flowed through the open window from the dark void of the ‘tween place, and Atimus reached out to grab hold of the side mirror, adjusting it to give himself a look-over. He had paid the best barber in one of the many New Yorks to fix him up with the works- A foppish hair style, a mustache curl, a beard trim -and he was still fascinated by the results on his bright red hair, especially after a bit of smoothing. He gave himself a warm smile, and readjusted the mirror.
A call came through on his Intercellular, and he wrote down the details of his work for the “day”. Atimus was a multi-digital nomad, who was managed by a media-coordinator named Darden who... well, who knows what he did with the information and products of Atimus’s work- Atimus didn’t care as long as he could have free roam over the vast expanse of existance, receive wild experiences, and screw exciting women.
Today, he would need only his camera, and the N-97 Scanner for gathering technical dimensional data. He supposed that there would be some sort of unusual phenomena to record. That bastard Darden could be so specific on the things he needed, but so vague on the “what” or “how”. Atimus was told it had something to do with “reliance on imperfection” or some such crap that had to do with the cosmos lining up for incidentally useful results in cross dimensional assessments.
Atimus tossed the cigarette butt out into the void, and proceeded with the first instructions: Return to the exact previous universe he had left, at the same exit point, and time he had left it. He felt around under his seat until he found a Taco Dell bag from a recent trip. He always hated when the instructions included reintegration. Atimus buckled up, braced himself, and hit the big blue button.
In a whirring, nauseating flash, Atimus synched up his experience of resting after the last job with the final moments of his last job. He just barely managed to aim his vomit into the bag. Pale faced, he leaned back the seat and rested for a moment. Atimus lit up another stog before stepping out of the car, spitting onto the unpopulated street of a quiet southern town. He saw a postal truck turn the corner and come up the street, taking a picture of it.
After waiting for the truck to go by, he crossed to the other side and took a few more pictures. His beloved Frod would match the design of local destination/time designs, and he was sure to take pictures from a few angles, as this could be an instructive standard to compare with at the next destination. Atimus took pictures of a nearby garden that was being attended by it’s mature matron. She smiled and waved at him, weeds in hand, and he responded in turn with a sleepy grin and a wave.
Once he had collected enough photos and data, he hopped back into the Frod and plugged in the next coordinates. Entry into a fresh point was virtually painless, and much cleaner, than reintegration.
He smashed the green button, which was followed by the familiar flash of transit, and… nothing. There was no apparent change in the environment. Atimus frowned, and read the data- but there was no mistake.
He had certainly traveled into a different dimension, the instruments showed him that plainly. If it had been similar coordinates, then other similarities could be expected. In this case, however, the coordinates were wholly different. There should be no similarity in either location or time. Atimus glanced at the scanner, and scrolled through different catagories until he found one of the most basic ones: The dimensional difference ratio.
It read 10/10.
Atimus was floored. It would be one thing if the car instrumentation was screwing up- it was an older model. Easy to fix, but likely to err. Seeing the scanner, though... he sat for a moment until his cigarette ashed itself on his pants. He jumped up, bumping his head while wildly brushing off the hot ember, and inspected the new hole in his jeans.
He breathed in deep, leaning back into the seat; but when he opened his eyes he lost his breath.
Standing in front of the Frod was the old gardener woman. Her hand was full of weeds, her smile was warm and bright… but her eyes were black as coals.
Atimus raised the camera, and snapped. | The world remained still.
The ocean tide frozen in place, meeting with the water leaving the city.
Children were laughing, as the wind stood still.
Leaves fell from the trees in the park, a sign of fall up ahead.
James had been to 138 different worlds, different earths with a couple of changes.
The further he ventured into the mind-shattering dimensional cosmos, the more he lost sight of reality.
Earth-Zero he called it, it wasn't perfect but it was his.
The first worlds he had gone to were perfect.
But all fruit spoils.
Slowly going through world by world, twisted things had happened.
A world on fire, leaders at eachothers necks.
Politicians selling out their constituents for political gain.
A world were Nazi Germany still reined.North America, a bitter wasteland defunct of life.
A world cracked and torn into pieces, the earth a husk of what it once was.
James had seen humanity fall 138 times.
His world wasn't perfect, it was eventually destroyed like all the rest.
This world he was currently on seemed nearly identical to the world he first left oh so long ago.
Not in the end times, but long ago.
James waited for years.
He watched the world grow restless, saw the signs of the fall up ahead.
He grew exhausted knowing the end was soon.
He couldn't tell them, because they weren't ready to know.
But the world kept going. Despite James being there, the one difference in the world that ended up being the biggest, was that James had never existed in the first place. | |
[WP] When you go to an alternate universe. Your multiverse-traveling machine rates how different each universe is from yours. Today this universe got a 10/10 on the difference scale, and you can’t find a single difference. | **Caution. 10/10 Reality Difference rating. Proceed at own risk.**
Luciano frowned, smacking the monitor a few times. The screen stayed as it was, flashing the red text in a threatening manner.
A cold feeling washed over him, and he cautiously opened the door, sunlight streaming in from outside. Ever since he and Daniel had managed to come up with a device that perfectly replicated Sky's universe-hopping capabilities, Luci had taken to exploring the multiverse. He had seen anarchy, apocolypses, utopias, even a universe where everyone was an anthropomorphic frog.
The Reality Difference Reactor had been built to prevent Luci from dying in ridiculous ways in universes that barely followed his universe's physics. The most he'd gotten was a 5 on the scale.
What was wrong with this one?
Stepping outside, Luci took a breath of sweet, cool air. The grass was perfectly green, trees swaying in the breeze, beautiful azure sky dotted with puffy sheep clouds.
Nothing was wrong, and that unnerved him.
The sight of a town nearby made him excited, as half of the fun was interacting with the denizens of the unfamiliar universes. He pushed a button and the machine ceased whirring and humming, activating its camouflage capabilities. Now only he could find it with the wrist tracker Luci had.
Humming to himself, Luci walked through the streets. Everything was natural here. The town looked quite like his hometown, albeit more clean and... Having less crime.
Rounding a corner, he bumped into a man. Stumbling back, Luci grabbed the other's suit to both steady himself and prevent said person from falling too.
"I'm sorry, sir, I didn't -" Luci stopped. The person here- it was him.
this has happened before, there were realities where he was quite different. Where he was the powerful, dragonlike diety instead of Sky. Where he grew up in the medieval ages (he had stayed for a year experimentally, Luciano learned to hunt and swordfight along with Daniel quite well.) One where he had grey skin and horns.
None like this.
This him was older, but not by much. His cerulean hoodie and grey beanie capping his messy brown hair was gone, replaced with hair gel and a deep blue suit.
"It's quite all right. I was just on my way back from a meeting, so it wouldn't have mattered if I had gotten this suit dirty anyway. Now, if you excuse me." A deeper voice startled Luci out of his thoughts. the other him nodded and brushed past.
That was when he realised with a jolt. The Difference Rating was calculated relative to Luciano, meaning both his home universe's physics, but also himself as a person. This wasn't a different universe, it was a different *timeline.*
One where he had never entered that low point in his life, causing him to commit illegal activities. Causing him indirectly to meet Sky and make his home in another universe along with Daniel and now Pyre.
He was normal here. That was the difference.
He hoped this him was happy. | *Calculating…*
The rating popped up.
**Difference Rating: 10/10**
“Huh? That’s interesting.”
I couldn’t let the rating distract me for too long. There was a time limit as to how long I spent here. It was just a cautionary thing, considering how clumsy I can become. I could mill about, but I refrained from interacting. Consequences from interacting with those in other universes had yet to be catalogued and I wasn’t in the mood of finding out now, not with me discovering this gem of a universe.
I explored the area I was in. This time, I appeared to spawn in a rather nice home. Judging by the walls, I took it that it wasn’t too long.
“Dang, this universe version of me must’ve been rich.” My words echoed through the spacious room. Shelves decorated with ornate objects were nearby.
“Hey! Who are you?” There was fear in her voice.
Spinning around, I was greeted by a carbon copy of me. “Hey hey hey, calm down. It’s just me. Albeit, from a different universe. You must recognize this.” I flashed the machine at the other me.
She looked rather perplexed.
“What are you doing here? Honey! We have an-” I slammed myself against her. Her screams continued. She reached for my machine, which lay in my palm. I attempted to draw it away, but she latched a firm hold on it. “What is this thing?”
“No!” I clawed at her. Instead of grasping the machine, the other me let it fall to the ground. “No no!” She continued to shout and kick. After some struggle, I managed to raise my foot high enough to slam it down upon her. Her body went limp.
Shoving her body off to the side, I cradled my machine in my arms.
One word was etched one the screen.
**Error. Unable to find original universe.**
Terror, panic, fear, I couldn’t tell the difference at this point. “Honey! Is everything alright? I thought I heard some yelling!” Wait, I had a spouse in this universe? “I’ll be right with ya.” Adrenaline kicked in now as my supposed spouse’s footsteps echoed along the hardwood floor. My head darted about looking for a hiding place for the body.
“Bingo,” I muttered. Throwing the balcony door open, I hauled other me’s body onto the deck. Lady luck was smiling upon me as I noted the forest that dotted the background. The machine carried on with its beeping. No doubt he would hear it. Taking a deep breath, I lobbed the object out into the field. I’ll return it soon hopefully.
“Oh, there you are honey!” He looked rather confused by my actions. “What are you doing?”
“Just shutting the curtains.” He seemed to buy the bait. The body was now obscured by them.
“Alright then, I’ll be heading to bed now. Goodnight.” He shuffled out of the room.
The sound of another door shutting sent waves of relief to wash over me. I collapsed against the wall. There was no difference in this universe. I was the difference.
r/CasualScribblings | |
[WP] "Now, if you cross the river Styx you'll end up in Hades, which you don't want, unless... wait where are you from again? Did you follow a specific God?" Turns out the afterlife is a convoluted series of suburban neighborhoods, and you're just trying to get directions from the locals. | As I stood there on that plain street corner speaking with this plain man who was unnervingly chirpy, I could think of nothing else but the way I had died.
It was an accident. I suppose accidents are common enough, but my accident left me naked on the grimy white tiles of a mid-sized grocery store, dead as the last of an echo. So stupid: I saw the "slippery when wet" sign, took it to heart, and carefully stepped toward the macaroni and cheese, only for my feet to swing out, my body to fling, and my head to make a dull thud when it cracked on the floor. I was naked because of the drugs. Terrible way to die.
"So the river Styx is just yonder, past Elemental Lane. Beyond lies Hades, which you don't want to visit, unless... wait where are you from again? Did you follow a specific God?"
"Huh?"
"Are you Jewish? Muslim, Christian? Mormon? Any of those? I can help with those."
"I'm uh, wait, what?"
"No need to be curt. Just trying to help you get your bearings. You did ask for directions, didn't you?"
"Um, yeah. Yes. Sorry, um...?"
"Randall. Randall LeCon."
"Is that French?"
Randall laughed and straightened his collar.
"Where am I? I'm confused."
"Naturally. You're probably only in stage 1 if you arrived recently. Always hard to tell. Some lose their memories several times before they start the trek."
"What do you mean?"
Randall sighed. He was a plain man, with plain dress, plain grayish face, and especially plain eyes. The sky above, neither gray nor blue but somewhere in there, didn't help highlight his features. At least he spoke with a hint of character.
"Definitely stage 1. Look...?"
"Greg."
"Look, Greg. This is what you would call the Afterlife. Doesn't matter what you believed before, it's just the Afterlife, for everyone. You're here now. Clearly all turned about. I suspect you've been here for what will eventually start to feel like weeks."
"I feel like I only just died."
"Ah, good, so you accept it. Maybe you didn't at first. Usually at this point newbies start to remember things. That's the good news."
"Is this heaven?"
"Ah! Now we're getting somewhere. Which heaven?"
"I don't know Randall, you tell me." I scratched my chin and looked around.
The scene was numbingly boring. It looked like something from 2003, built by Hyatt Hotels Incorporated on land that was once a military base, maybe in Milwaukee or the outskirts of Kansas City. Big McMansions, built in the same style--probably only two or three architectural templates for all the hundreds of houses in this "community", as they called them. Packaged and marketed with prim lawns and chic branded names plastered to welcome signs to lure middle Americans to buy houses they couldn't afford. Cookie cutter Main Street. Winding roads like a labyrinth. The suburban maze.
"God," I said. "It's not heaven--so is it Hell? Seems tame for Hell."
"Which Hell?" said Randall.
"Ok stop it with that, what are you asking?"
"Greg, let me explain. You died. Everyone here died."
I looked around the empty streets, motionless triple-paned windows. Randall noticed.
"It's a big place, hard to see folks sometimes. Anyway, everyone's deadl this is the Afterlife. Every belief, of any organized, wanton, individual, or heck even *fake* religion, has its expression here in this place. All the heavens, hells, limbos; all the pagan places once believed in; everything from antiquity of all cultures big and small; all the places of all existential thought are here embodied, in this place."
"In this.. suburb?"
"Suburbia, yes."
"Nice nickname, it fits."
"Actually Greg, 'Afterlife' would be the nickname. The cosmic entity in which we find ourselves is Suburbia."
The thought was enough to make me thirsty. My eyes dried and I decided to start walking.
"Allow me to accompany you a while Greg, if you please."
"Do what you want."
"Were you religious? I can help you find where you need to go."
"No," I said. "Atheist."
"Atheist indeed! A kindred spirit, so to speak!" Randall exclaimed.
"You?" I asked. Randall nodded, but looked worried.
We followed the bend in the road. It looped around in a long curve, back and forth. The McMansions were the same. Sometimes I saw movement inside. A few had sprinklers spraying water. No cars, no stop signs. Few, if any, trees. Lots of bushes and hedges lining driveways. It was bright, but sunless. I fell silent as we walked, contemplating this place. Even in silence Randall's chirpiness was wearing on me because there was nothing special about this place, about him. Come to think of it, what made me special anymore?
I stopped. It might've been the same spot from before; I couldn't tell.
"Alright, you mentioned the River Styx, Hades. Detroit isn't here because no one believed in it, I guess? And you asked me about different heavens, hells. Assuming it's all here, where is it? why are we in this... this... corporate housing development? Which way is out."
"Ah," Randall hesitated, and straighted a tie that wasn't there. "Well, Greg, it's all around. Any which way. Currently, we are in Cusco."
"...What?"
"Cusco, Peru. This is Cusco."
"I thought you said real places don't exist. And also: what? This is just a bunch of housing, what are you talking about Randall?"
"Yes well the Incans believed Cusco was the center of the universe, so here it is."
"I see," I said, and then caught myself, and forced my second point. "Randall, hello!? This isn't Cusco, Peru! Do you see Incan stone carving or a colonial plaza, do you see any--"
Just then, I cut myself off. Randall had merely pointed at a street sign. It read: *Cusco Ave*.
"You can't be serious."
"This, Greg, is Cusco."
"If this place is an agglomeration of all places from belief, why is it fashion after an American gated community?"
"Would you believe me if I told you that those communities mimic Suburbia and not the other way around, that American suburbs are an early sign of the conjunction that's to come?"
"No, I wouldn't. That's illogical, beyond sense."
"Then let's leave that conversation for some other time, perhaps stage 4."
Flustered, I demanded: "Fine, Randall. Take me to Heaven; the Catholic one."
*continued...* | The man squinted at her, his shriveled gaze eyeing her up and down as if trying to read her soul. He tugged his oar from of the dark, placid waters, ripples emanating out from their small, two-man canoe as they stopped moving and began to bob in place. Shadows clung to the fog in the shape of men, other times in the shape of creatures that resembled men. Every once in a while, they seemed to lunge toward the boat, but the grizzled, shrunken man at the helm paid them no mind at all, and that gave Mara a small bit of confidence.
"No, no, not the Christian type surely, not with yer background," the man muttered to himself.
Mara tugged the blanket closer to her body. The old man had shoved it at her at the start of the trip. She'd been grateful to escape the biting chill that had gnawed at her skin since she landed in this foggy marshland, and so didn't think to question his motives as he bid her climb onto his canoe. It had seemed...right, somehow.
"Where are we going?" she finally asked. Her voice was hoarse-sounding, as if she hadn't used it in a long, long time. Which was strange, because just yesterday, she remembered excitingly telling her mother about how she'd just gotten into her dream medical school. Yet somehow, that seemed quite distant now, and not so important.
The man stopped mumbling and turned to her. "That's what I've been asking ye the entire time. Where did ye want to be taken?"
Mara's brow furrowed together. "I thought you were leading the way?"
The man stared at her. "How am I suppose to know who yer god is? You gotta tell me."
What? Why would he care about who her god...the strangest feeling struck her. She looked at him then, really looked at him, and all of a sudden, the old man's grim features seemed to melt away, dissipating into the fog until all that was left was a pair of hollow sockets on bone. Mara knew she should scream. She should cower in fear, scramble to get away from him, away from this strange place that somehow managed to feel wrong and right at the same time.
"I have no god," she said, her voice calm and low. She didn't believe in god. Not after her father had been taken from her in a drunk driving accident where the driver had gotten off without so much as a slap on the wrist simply because his father was the mayor. She didn't need a god who would simply watch it happen.
The man focused his hollow sockets on her, then nodded jerkily. He began to row again, this time with fervor.
Mara stared at the back of his robes. She didn't understand how, but she could tell the man had tensed up. There was no more mutterings, no more attempts at small-talk, just the steady splash of the oar as he rowed them toward the unknown.
"I'm sorry, have I offended you in some way?" Mara asked. "I'm sorry if I have, I just--"
"Be quiet," the man said, his voice low. "Don't say a word."
For the first time since she'd arrived, Mara felt a semblance of alarm. "What? Why?"
The man continued to row. "Because you aren't supposed to be here. I need to get you out of here before they arrive."
"Before who arrives?" Mara asked.
But the man didn't respond. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, she couldn't say.
***
r/AlannaWu | |
[WP] You know, you can tell a lot about a person by the way they eat their food. | You can tell a lot about a person by the way they eat their food.
The woman by the window, dressed in business attire across from an empty seat. Both meals are hardly touched, save for her glass. It’s been refilled, perhaps more than once, and it’s rim is smudged from use.
She’s nervous. The food on their plates is expensive, most likely on the company’s dime. A boss maybe, or a rather important client. Could be a date, but this isn’t the place for firsts.
There’s a couple just feet away from me, corralling their children. Food covers the youngest, but he smiles through it. Not a fussy eater, that one.
Mum and dad have enjoyed their meal, a few drinks gone past dad’s lips. But he’s responsible, and mum took the keys before desert arrived. A nice family them, certainly not perfect, but as close as they need to be.
And then there’s a small old man, sits himself in the corner at a table for two, to be used by one.
He orders without waiting, knows exactly what he wants. Doesn’t even need a menu. A regular, or very set in his ways.
He doesn’t look around as if searching, doesn’t pull out a phone or start any conversation with passers by. He’s eating alone, and he knows it.
He doesn’t look sad, not at first. It’s perhaps a song and dance he’s long since known the moves to. His kids have moved on, far enough away that it’s an occasion that brings them together.
His spouse isn’t with him, though he wears a ring. I’d be willing to bet the skin underneath hasn’t seen the light of day in a long time. He seems the type to sleep, maybe even work, with it on.
Yet he dines alone, and with a practiced ease that doesn’t come from an occasional night out with your wife working late.
His bed has been cold, with it his life, for a good long while.
You can tell a lot about a person by the way they eat their food.
I wonder what I say to the world. When I order my food, can they tell what kind of man I am? Can they see that I’m not perfect, that I’ve got love waiting for me at home, or that I have a worry on my mind?
Perhaps they can see the regret on my face. Maybe my stiffness, my attention to detail, give away my military past.
The way I stare at my food, or must be shaken from a memory, perhaps they tell those who pay attention that not all of my actions leave regret, but that some certainly have.
I wonder what can be said of me, by the way I eat my food. | \[Poem\]
Very, very carefully she peeled the mandarin.
First, the peel.
Then, the white pith.
Then, she took each segment and pulled it apart
Taking the off casing off
Eating the juice sacs individually
Her delicate fingers pulled at the fruit
Her long tongue bought each sac to her mouth
No juice was spilled
No fruit was wasted
It was hypnotizing, to see someone with such self control in the face of such a juicy and rare fruit
I ate with abandon
I pulled the bitter peel off with mt teeth
I spat out the seeds
I let the juice run down my hands and chin as I consumed, no thought or time spared for waste
I had no time for delicacy
No time for careful fingers
Or long tongues
Only teeth, and juice, and the sensation of being
She was a creature calm, thoughtful process
Removed
I was a creature grounded in the world
In my body
Overcome by sensation
Acting without thought or hesitation
you know, you can tell a lot about a person by the way they eat their food | |
[WP] It's midnight on a weekend, and you're doing laundry at your apartment's laundromat. You hear the door swing open but pay it no mind until the fellow enters your peripherals and you see a very inhuman form. He is a werewolf, but is groggily just doing laundry. He hasn't realized he's changed. | Zach, with his head balanced on his knees, was mesmerized by the swirling mixture of soap and water. The colors seemed so much more vibrant than usual. Bright pinks and yellows, sparkling and shimmering in a mass of amorphous shapes.
He didn't remember buying a new soap. Maybe the midnight vibes make everything seem more magical. That or the drugs must've finally kicked in.
Weed was a common indulgence of his, but after a week filled with breakups, student loans, and all nighters, an indulgence had turned to a binge. He had managed to polish off his stash of edibles and cheap beers in the span of two hours. Just a little somethin' somethin' to help numb the pain.
Of course, numbing the pain until he'd inevitably thrown up his guts after eating nothing but pot brownies, beer, and a Domino's pasta bread bowl that his English teacher hadn't finished on Wednesday.
The possibility of just leaving the puke for sober Zach to handle was tempting, but he was wearing his favorite sweater. A big gray hoodie that he'd gotten from his recently (aforementioned) dumped boyfriend. The boyfriend part wasn't why he liked it so much. No, Danny was a jackass. He just happened to have good taste in clothes.
So now he was here, on a rickety plastic chair in a pair of basketball shorts he'd scrounged up from underneath his bed. There was a weird hole in one of the ass cheeks the shape of Canada, but that's what gives it personality.
There's a faint twinkle of a bell, but Zach's still absorbed by the vortex of swirling, swirling, swirling clothes, humming to himself, "we're going on a trip, in our favorite rocket ship…"
Something big and hairy sits next to him. The chair makes a horrible creaking sound, and the thing, like a big humanoid wolf, glances at Zach.
"Sorry!" the guy says, exhausted, but still with a note of anxiousness.
"'s fine," Zach replies. Probably a furry.
Content to ride out the rest of his trip in peace, Zach waits. The wolf guy apparently does not share the same sentiment.
He pops his lips (wow, they're getting better at making those masks), and drums his fingers against his sweatpants that are weirdly small.
"I like your…" he visibly struggles to find something on Zach's person. "Shorts?"
"Thanks. Your fur suit's cool."
The guy blanches. "M-my what?"
Zach thought he was the one on drugs. "The fursuit, 's really detailed. My older sister's a furry. She has a wolf 'sona too. What's its name?"
He doesn't respond, staring wide eyed at the suit's furry arms. The rather realistic fur is a mix of earthy tones, and Zach kind of wants to touch it.
Zach clears his throat. "So? The name?"
"O-oh, it's Jay."
"Cute."
The washing machine dings, and Zach watches as the clothes finally stop spinning. It seems like his trip is done.
He opens the hatch, ready to put the soaked hoodie into the dryer, but as he feels around in his back pocket to fish for a quarter, he comes up empty. His finger meets open space. That damn ass pocket hole.
Water drips on the floor as he walks towards the door, but the guy, Jay, sadly watches Zach near the door.
"Oh, do you not have a quarter?" He digs in his own pants, pulling out a roll of quarters. "I could give you one! A little gift for… an accepting friend?
Zach snorts. "Alright."
Jay tosses the quarter a surprising distance, the metal gleaming in the dim white lighting. Zach catches it, and without hesitation, shoves it right in the yellow candy machine that his munchy mind spotted when he first came in. He twists the handle twice, collecting a cascade of skittles in his palm and promptly shoving them in his mouth.
"Thanks!" Zach calls through the mouthful over his shoulder, receiving only a splutter, while opening the glass door and heading into the night.
On the walk back to his dorm, the light of the full moon lit his way.
-----
I hope you enjoyed this! It was so much fun to write. If you want to see the little snippet I wrote for their next interaction, please let me know! | *clangggg*
Despite my best efforts, the metal lid rings aloud in the stuffy laundry room. Three overpriced machines against the right wall, and six behemoths of dryers stacked behind me. Not 10ft in between. Close quarters like this don't leave room for casual encounters, only awkward ones of shuffling back and forth, so I reserve this chore for the midnight hours.
But it's not that bad of chore, is it? Even with all the technology we have these days, I still believe I'd find just as much, if not more enjoyment just.. doing it the good old fashioned way. Is that so bad? I slide my hand along the small of my back, moving left to right and breathing deeply. Old fashioned ways can be more taxing.
I lower the lid, turning the dial that *still* has way too much play despite my call to maintenance, and massage my hands as I hunch over the machine. I whip out my phone and begin to scroll. The clock read midnight. Perfect, I don't have to worry about anybody else disturbing my work.
My heart falls into the rhythm of focus and the door swings open.
*shlick shlick shlick* Feet scraping against the entryway doormat and a deep, weighty gait booms behind me. The floor vibrates the soles of my feet with each step, and sends a familiar shiver up my spine of adrenaline.
He steps up to the machine to my left and dumps a bag of clothes in the wash, not even bothering to sort through soiled vs *even more* soiled. He doesn't even seem to notice me.
*clink* Damn, he's better with the lid than I am. I chuckle and focus my gaze his way to see a smooth-haired creature of a towering man enveloped in vantablack hair. The face is unmistakably misshapen into a wolf's head, and his muscles ripple alive as his claws stop short of turning the dial.
Two heartbeats and we're suspended in time. One flinch away from absolute gore and horror.
I have to be quick. I reach for the doorknob.
And lock the door.
I pull out two Sig Sauer P229s, one in each hand pointed right at his mouth, and I can almost *feel* his growl reverberate into my bones.
"Seven hundred and one, Aelius Dida. Those are pretty low numbers for an old centurion."
Those old, obsidian eyes locked onto my converted. 40cal barrels, silencers affixed. He had to smell the silver because his nose twitched. "Full moon *Eater*, or did you forget?"
He rushes me like a lineman. "Shi-" he takes the bullets in stride, hardly flinching as I make more laundry for him. And me, I figure as the blood splatters.
I'm up on the machines, and his claws yank my legs out from under me and he slams me into the dryers. I hit and fall like a ragdoll. My mags are out, *useless stupid silver bullets*. Quinn said it wouldn't be a problem but he didn't account for age. This one is old as all Hell.
The old fashioned way, then.
I reach my hand to the small of my back and unsheath Mina, my sweet and radiant Mina. Just like her namesake, my machete delivers a sickly sweet pleasure in *layers*.
First, the shock. Nobody carries these goodies anymore and Aelius' is properly freaked out.
Second, the certainty of success.
Third, well, it's something you'd have to experience for yourself. It's saintly.
With my back to the dryers, blade in hand at my side I wait a beat. It's my turn to charge, and he's waiting for me, coaxing me with a gaping, sharp-toothed maw.
"Come on Aelius, not hungry or just low on testosterone? I heard age does that."
He comes barreling at me but strikes the dryer, claw caught in the metal. I feint right and slash at his forearm, warming my blade with his blood.
He tears through and slices four lines of air across my chest as I jump back.
I turn on my heel, leap toward the wall and launch my body towards him with my arm, and Mina carving a lateral slice.. His jawbone hangs loosely and his knees buckle.
His back is on the ground, and I mount him, using Mina to make quick work of his tendons. Slice at the forearms. There goes his grip. Cut at the inner thighs, he's already starting to bleed out. But I need just a few more moments to make full use of those layered pleasures of Mina, my darling.
"Look at me, Dida, for I know your crimes. I'm collecting you, old man. The old fashioned way."
With that, I give Mina what she's been asking for. | |
[WP] It's midnight on a weekend, and you're doing laundry at your apartment's laundromat. You hear the door swing open but pay it no mind until the fellow enters your peripherals and you see a very inhuman form. He is a werewolf, but is groggily just doing laundry. He hasn't realized he's changed. | "Huh, I didn't realize that we have a full moon tonight. No wonder I can't sleep. Seems like I'm not the only one." I say as I turn to the eight foot tall werewolf, looking at the shredded shirt that he was putting in with the rest of his laundry. "You sure that's still good? Looks a little busted up." I comment, getting only a low snarl, raising my hands a little, "Alright, easy man. No need to go barking up a storm.". I shake my head as I hear something beep behind me, turning around to see that the machine had stopped, "Insufficient detergent" blinking on the display.
Letting out a frustrated groan I kneel down to fiddle with the latch for the detergent container, looking back over my shoulder, "Hey, could you hand me one of those containers up there? The blue one." I ask the black furred werewolf, pointing at a shelf somewhere behind me. While I waited for the detergent container I fidgeted the old one out, putting it on the trash shelf to be refilled by the landlord, not that I expected him to considering how lazy he was.
As I turn around again I saw the replacement container standing next to the washing machine, the werewolf sitting on the stairs, apparently fallen asleep. Replacing the container I continue the program before I walk over to the werewolf, squeezing past him as his paws twitched a little, his mouth occasionally turning into a saliva dripping snarl, seems like he was having a good time.
Leaving the lights on I make my way upstairs to wait for my clothes to finish. The next morning I was surprised to find them not only dried and roughly folded in my laundry basket but also covered with black fur. Well, it's the thought that counts after all. And with a lint roller I could quickly clean them up. | *clangggg*
Despite my best efforts, the metal lid rings aloud in the stuffy laundry room. Three overpriced machines against the right wall, and six behemoths of dryers stacked behind me. Not 10ft in between. Close quarters like this don't leave room for casual encounters, only awkward ones of shuffling back and forth, so I reserve this chore for the midnight hours.
But it's not that bad of chore, is it? Even with all the technology we have these days, I still believe I'd find just as much, if not more enjoyment just.. doing it the good old fashioned way. Is that so bad? I slide my hand along the small of my back, moving left to right and breathing deeply. Old fashioned ways can be more taxing.
I lower the lid, turning the dial that *still* has way too much play despite my call to maintenance, and massage my hands as I hunch over the machine. I whip out my phone and begin to scroll. The clock read midnight. Perfect, I don't have to worry about anybody else disturbing my work.
My heart falls into the rhythm of focus and the door swings open.
*shlick shlick shlick* Feet scraping against the entryway doormat and a deep, weighty gait booms behind me. The floor vibrates the soles of my feet with each step, and sends a familiar shiver up my spine of adrenaline.
He steps up to the machine to my left and dumps a bag of clothes in the wash, not even bothering to sort through soiled vs *even more* soiled. He doesn't even seem to notice me.
*clink* Damn, he's better with the lid than I am. I chuckle and focus my gaze his way to see a smooth-haired creature of a towering man enveloped in vantablack hair. The face is unmistakably misshapen into a wolf's head, and his muscles ripple alive as his claws stop short of turning the dial.
Two heartbeats and we're suspended in time. One flinch away from absolute gore and horror.
I have to be quick. I reach for the doorknob.
And lock the door.
I pull out two Sig Sauer P229s, one in each hand pointed right at his mouth, and I can almost *feel* his growl reverberate into my bones.
"Seven hundred and one, Aelius Dida. Those are pretty low numbers for an old centurion."
Those old, obsidian eyes locked onto my converted. 40cal barrels, silencers affixed. He had to smell the silver because his nose twitched. "Full moon *Eater*, or did you forget?"
He rushes me like a lineman. "Shi-" he takes the bullets in stride, hardly flinching as I make more laundry for him. And me, I figure as the blood splatters.
I'm up on the machines, and his claws yank my legs out from under me and he slams me into the dryers. I hit and fall like a ragdoll. My mags are out, *useless stupid silver bullets*. Quinn said it wouldn't be a problem but he didn't account for age. This one is old as all Hell.
The old fashioned way, then.
I reach my hand to the small of my back and unsheath Mina, my sweet and radiant Mina. Just like her namesake, my machete delivers a sickly sweet pleasure in *layers*.
First, the shock. Nobody carries these goodies anymore and Aelius' is properly freaked out.
Second, the certainty of success.
Third, well, it's something you'd have to experience for yourself. It's saintly.
With my back to the dryers, blade in hand at my side I wait a beat. It's my turn to charge, and he's waiting for me, coaxing me with a gaping, sharp-toothed maw.
"Come on Aelius, not hungry or just low on testosterone? I heard age does that."
He comes barreling at me but strikes the dryer, claw caught in the metal. I feint right and slash at his forearm, warming my blade with his blood.
He tears through and slices four lines of air across my chest as I jump back.
I turn on my heel, leap toward the wall and launch my body towards him with my arm, and Mina carving a lateral slice.. His jawbone hangs loosely and his knees buckle.
His back is on the ground, and I mount him, using Mina to make quick work of his tendons. Slice at the forearms. There goes his grip. Cut at the inner thighs, he's already starting to bleed out. But I need just a few more moments to make full use of those layered pleasures of Mina, my darling.
"Look at me, Dida, for I know your crimes. I'm collecting you, old man. The old fashioned way."
With that, I give Mina what she's been asking for. | |
[WP] It's midnight on a weekend, and you're doing laundry at your apartment's laundromat. You hear the door swing open but pay it no mind until the fellow enters your peripherals and you see a very inhuman form. He is a werewolf, but is groggily just doing laundry. He hasn't realized he's changed. | I was sitting on my love seat sofa, watching the last episode of my Netflix show of the season. I tended to binge watch every season during our global pandemic. Not much else to do seeing as all the shops and bars were closed.
My cell started beeping like crazy, forcing my eyes to stray from my TV screen reluctantly to the timer blaring. Laundry should be done washing.
With a sigh, I paused my show and stood up. Stretching and yawning, I looked around my little place and made my way to the door leading our to our communal hallways. Yellow wallpaper layered the top of the walls, with brown wainscoting on the lower half.
Yawning for a second time, I trudged towards the elevator that would allow me to go to the laundry room 4 floors down.
As I stood waiting, I could hear the loud family down the end of the hall screaming at each other. This happened at least three times a week and all the other tenants try thier best to ignore the noise.
Everytime we submitted a complaint, the landlord would go to talk to the tenants and we never heard anything back from him yet the yelling and fights continued.
Just as the elevator door opened and I walked in, I caught a glimpse of the door opening and a man shouting in a deep guttural voice at the other person. Not one to butt into drama, I quickly closed the elevator door and waited as the old dingy rust bucket lowered me to the 4th floor. Technically the basement of the building.
I walked out, quickly made my way down the hall into a foyer with washers and dryers stacked one on top of each other. I always did my laundry late at night this way I didnt have to interact with anyone.
I'm a bit of a lone wolf and social interactions are not my forte.
As I got closer to the dryers I had thrown my clothes in, I noticed that ALL of my wet clothes sitting on the floor. If there was one thing that made me see red it was other people touching my things.
With a growl I ripped open the dryer and threw out the clothes that had occupied my dryer with MY quarters in it. Whoever thought it was cool to leave my wet clothes on the ground was in for a treat.
As I place my shit back in the dryer, I added a few more quarters. I ceased my grumbling when suddenly someone walked into the laundry room foyer and froze staring at the clothes on the dingy beige tile floors.
"What the fuck!" He growled out. As he moved forward I saw that the man was large. He wasnt human. He stood at an easy 8ft heaving his sides in anger.
I stood my ground as I took in his furry black appearance, his red eyes seemed to glow under the old fluorescent lights. His snout showed thier spiky canines in my direction. He was a werewolf. Great. Things that go bump in the night. Somethingbout of Twilight.
I narrowed my eyes at him.
"Dont you growl at me. You took my dryer and threw my clothes on the ground. Wet." I quipped, "You get what you give." I threw at him as I turned my back on him.
If there is anything that this world has taught me, is not to let anything get under your skin. Perhaps turning my back on a werewolf was the wrong thing to do at the time but I had zero tolerance for those that disrespect me.
I suddenly felt his presence behind me and it was enough to suffocate anyone.
"You dont know who you're messing with..." he began but I didnt have time to get into a dog fight.
"Says the furball that doesn't realize he is a werewolf in public." I quipped. Not really unnerved. I bent over to grab the last of my wet clothing off the floor...except he didnt give me the chance.
I was grabbed by the nape of my neck and smashed into the next adjacent stacked washer and dryer. The force itself was enough to knock the wind out of me.
I looked up at a drizzly muzzle leering down at me as I glared up back at him. My brown hair was being pulled roughly as his large paw like hands gripped my throat.
"You either have a death wish or you have some balls girly..I could rip you into shreds and no one would be the wiser." he said.
Today was not my day. I shouldn't have overstepped my boundaries especially with a supernatural creature. But two could play this game. I glared at him as my strength began to trickle back into my veins.
"Its...you..." I struggled to say with his calloused hand tightening around my neck, further cutting off my attempts to speak. All of this over laundry. Wtf.
He snickered, "What's that you're saying?" He cocked his head to the side, eyeing me with his reddish eye. My oxygen was depleting and I was losing control. This was not how I wanted things to happen. Fed up, I gave in to the darkness... | “Next up on the Saturday to-do list...Laundry.”
I open swung open the glass door to the dimly lit laundromat and smacked the bell above the door which caused it to chime. “Evening” said a man with a gravely voice, who was hidden behind a stack of drying machines. “Evening.” I nonchalantly replied. “I didn’t think I’d see anyone out this late” said the gravely voice. “I didn’t think there would be anyone here either. It’s kinda nice to have company though especially because this place kinda gives me the creeps.” I explained. “I get that, I hate coming here this late, but it’s the only time I have enough time to get things done.” Said the very friendly gravely voice. “What do you do for work?” I asked while I waited for the washing machine to accept my change and start. “I’m a veterinarian.” Said the voice. “Oh cool, I’m a nurse. It’s kinda funny that two medical profession wound up in the same laundromat.” As I finished my sentence and my rinse cycle, a cloud moved out of the way moon, and a beam of light shot through the window. “Huh, I didn’t know it was a full moon tonig...” my breath caught in my throat. My eyes widened and chills were sent down my spine. For the first time since I walked into the laundromat I was able to see behind the stack of drying machines. Stood behind them was an immense figure, with sharp fangs and long ears. The beast with a gravely voice spoke with a look of fear and recognition in it’s eyes. “It’s a what tonight?”
“A full moon.” I repeated after what felt like an eternity of silence. “Oh god, do I look like I think I do?” He asked. “Do you think you look like a seven foot tall, wolf man.” I said trying to stay calm and lighten the mood. “Yeah, that’s about the description I was thinking.” He said in a defeated tone. “Are you going to be okay like this?” I asked after realizing he posed no threat. “I’ll be back to normal tomorrow, but I live pretty far away so I don’t think I’ll be able to make it home without being noticed.” He began to look panicked so immediately I opened my mouth without thinking. “Wanna stay at my place, I live in an apartment just upstairs.” “Would you really be okay with that.” He asked, confused by my immediate response to seeing someone in trouble. “Sure, it would be my pleasure.”I said as I picked up my basket of finished laundry and motioned towards the stairs. | |
[WP] It's midnight on a weekend, and you're doing laundry at your apartment's laundromat. You hear the door swing open but pay it no mind until the fellow enters your peripherals and you see a very inhuman form. He is a werewolf, but is groggily just doing laundry. He hasn't realized he's changed. | I was sitting on my love seat sofa, watching the last episode of my Netflix show of the season. I tended to binge watch every season during our global pandemic. Not much else to do seeing as all the shops and bars were closed.
My cell started beeping like crazy, forcing my eyes to stray from my TV screen reluctantly to the timer blaring. Laundry should be done washing.
With a sigh, I paused my show and stood up. Stretching and yawning, I looked around my little place and made my way to the door leading our to our communal hallways. Yellow wallpaper layered the top of the walls, with brown wainscoting on the lower half.
Yawning for a second time, I trudged towards the elevator that would allow me to go to the laundry room 4 floors down.
As I stood waiting, I could hear the loud family down the end of the hall screaming at each other. This happened at least three times a week and all the other tenants try thier best to ignore the noise.
Everytime we submitted a complaint, the landlord would go to talk to the tenants and we never heard anything back from him yet the yelling and fights continued.
Just as the elevator door opened and I walked in, I caught a glimpse of the door opening and a man shouting in a deep guttural voice at the other person. Not one to butt into drama, I quickly closed the elevator door and waited as the old dingy rust bucket lowered me to the 4th floor. Technically the basement of the building.
I walked out, quickly made my way down the hall into a foyer with washers and dryers stacked one on top of each other. I always did my laundry late at night this way I didnt have to interact with anyone.
I'm a bit of a lone wolf and social interactions are not my forte.
As I got closer to the dryers I had thrown my clothes in, I noticed that ALL of my wet clothes sitting on the floor. If there was one thing that made me see red it was other people touching my things.
With a growl I ripped open the dryer and threw out the clothes that had occupied my dryer with MY quarters in it. Whoever thought it was cool to leave my wet clothes on the ground was in for a treat.
As I place my shit back in the dryer, I added a few more quarters. I ceased my grumbling when suddenly someone walked into the laundry room foyer and froze staring at the clothes on the dingy beige tile floors.
"What the fuck!" He growled out. As he moved forward I saw that the man was large. He wasnt human. He stood at an easy 8ft heaving his sides in anger.
I stood my ground as I took in his furry black appearance, his red eyes seemed to glow under the old fluorescent lights. His snout showed thier spiky canines in my direction. He was a werewolf. Great. Things that go bump in the night. Somethingbout of Twilight.
I narrowed my eyes at him.
"Dont you growl at me. You took my dryer and threw my clothes on the ground. Wet." I quipped, "You get what you give." I threw at him as I turned my back on him.
If there is anything that this world has taught me, is not to let anything get under your skin. Perhaps turning my back on a werewolf was the wrong thing to do at the time but I had zero tolerance for those that disrespect me.
I suddenly felt his presence behind me and it was enough to suffocate anyone.
"You dont know who you're messing with..." he began but I didnt have time to get into a dog fight.
"Says the furball that doesn't realize he is a werewolf in public." I quipped. Not really unnerved. I bent over to grab the last of my wet clothing off the floor...except he didnt give me the chance.
I was grabbed by the nape of my neck and smashed into the next adjacent stacked washer and dryer. The force itself was enough to knock the wind out of me.
I looked up at a drizzly muzzle leering down at me as I glared up back at him. My brown hair was being pulled roughly as his large paw like hands gripped my throat.
"You either have a death wish or you have some balls girly..I could rip you into shreds and no one would be the wiser." he said.
Today was not my day. I shouldn't have overstepped my boundaries especially with a supernatural creature. But two could play this game. I glared at him as my strength began to trickle back into my veins.
"Its...you..." I struggled to say with his calloused hand tightening around my neck, further cutting off my attempts to speak. All of this over laundry. Wtf.
He snickered, "What's that you're saying?" He cocked his head to the side, eyeing me with his reddish eye. My oxygen was depleting and I was losing control. This was not how I wanted things to happen. Fed up, I gave in to the darkness... | Hi, I says, how do take care of that fur coat. I was just the right kind of coked out, active, fearless, but still coherent. Ideal for a night of household chores, followed Russian hardbass at the pivo z champanski, followed by the hours long, mindless fucking of strangers, followed by the afternoon special at Kolya's. Small town weekend. What else are you gonna do.
The furry guy didn't even glance over. Don't wear fur, he said, it's cruel. Do you know, he added, these fur things on jackets and bonnets? People don't even realise it's actual fur. You know what that's made of? Dogs. Man's best friend! The world is really headed towards some dark times.
He kept stuffing laundry into the machine. Didn't notice me staring. You tired? Says I, why don't you do like everybody and draw a line for the weekend?
A line? Ah, no, can't control myself on drugs. Says he, grabbing to where he expects his pant pockets.
Stops, looks at his reflection, then me, goes, ah shit. You know, I gotta eat you now. Can't let the knowledge spread. Sorry, you seem alright.
Me, on coke fueled courage, I came up with the only right answer. Who's gonna believe the stuff I see in a state like this? I say. Come on, I'll pay for your laundry and you can crash away my place, since you probably forgot your keys as well.
Anyway, that's my evening, sweetheart, wamna go to my place and fuck like rabbits? Maybe he'll even join in. Hey! Don't just walk off! Dammit, better keep that one to myself. | |
[WP] It's midnight on a weekend, and you're doing laundry at your apartment's laundromat. You hear the door swing open but pay it no mind until the fellow enters your peripherals and you see a very inhuman form. He is a werewolf, but is groggily just doing laundry. He hasn't realized he's changed. | "Um hello... " I said, unable to hide the confusion in my voice from the tall hairy figure standing beside me.
"Good evening." He responded seemingly unaware of thr fur covering his entire body.
"Sooooo you like a furry or something?" I suddenly realized the ridiculousness of thinking this man was a real werewolf. I needed a cup of coffee... or sleep... or both. The furry looled at me in confusion. Thrn down at his hands. A sudden look of panic took his face. My heart dropped. Was he actually a werewolf? That couldn't be, they went extinct. Unless... my thoughts were cut short as he let out a blood curdling sound. I couldn't tell if it was a roar, a howl, a scream or an unholy combination of the three. His shout turned into words. One word.
"Run" | Hi, I says, how do take care of that fur coat. I was just the right kind of coked out, active, fearless, but still coherent. Ideal for a night of household chores, followed Russian hardbass at the pivo z champanski, followed by the hours long, mindless fucking of strangers, followed by the afternoon special at Kolya's. Small town weekend. What else are you gonna do.
The furry guy didn't even glance over. Don't wear fur, he said, it's cruel. Do you know, he added, these fur things on jackets and bonnets? People don't even realise it's actual fur. You know what that's made of? Dogs. Man's best friend! The world is really headed towards some dark times.
He kept stuffing laundry into the machine. Didn't notice me staring. You tired? Says I, why don't you do like everybody and draw a line for the weekend?
A line? Ah, no, can't control myself on drugs. Says he, grabbing to where he expects his pant pockets.
Stops, looks at his reflection, then me, goes, ah shit. You know, I gotta eat you now. Can't let the knowledge spread. Sorry, you seem alright.
Me, on coke fueled courage, I came up with the only right answer. Who's gonna believe the stuff I see in a state like this? I say. Come on, I'll pay for your laundry and you can crash away my place, since you probably forgot your keys as well.
Anyway, that's my evening, sweetheart, wamna go to my place and fuck like rabbits? Maybe he'll even join in. Hey! Don't just walk off! Dammit, better keep that one to myself. | |
[WP] It's midnight on a weekend, and you're doing laundry at your apartment's laundromat. You hear the door swing open but pay it no mind until the fellow enters your peripherals and you see a very inhuman form. He is a werewolf, but is groggily just doing laundry. He hasn't realized he's changed. | "Hey," I said without thinking.
And I really wasn't thinking either. There was a huge upright dog standing right in front of me. The dog, if that was what it was, breathed huskily. His chest moved massively, his breath sounded ragged and there was a guttural groan on the edge of his breath.
"Hey," the dog said, his voice shaking my bones.
The dog was in the middle of shoving a blue sheet in the top dryer. He looked over at me with a questioning look.
"Can I help you?"
I started to say something but the dog stared at me with such innocent questioning in his large bright yellow eyes. I turned to my laundry and slowly scooped my pungent detergent.
Suddenly, the dog gasped softly. My head snapped over to the dog. He was staring at his hands, a shocked expression on his face. One of his sharp nails had torn straight through a shirt that said *Feed YOUR wild side* with a big Jack Links logo under it. The dog kept staring at his shirt and breathing heavily.
"Do you need some help?" I felt the question come out of my mouth involuntarily.
The dog turned to me and his jaw started quivering. His massive yellow eyes shined slightly with tears, and his hands -- paws, were shaking with emotional intensity. The scraps of his shirt were hanging off his paws morosely.
"This was my favorite shirt," the dog mumbled from behind 3-inch fangs.
I was so confused at this point. Where did the dog come from? Why was he trying to do laundry?
"Where did you come from?" I asked again, wondering where all this brazen curiosity was coming from.
"Oh--" the dog paused like he just finally realized I was there, "-- I'm over in apartment 209."
I was sort of gagged. I mean, this big dog creature was in my laundry room and now he was saying that he lived in my apartment. What was his deal?!
"Ok, dude. You need to tell me what's going on here or I'm gonna call the cops," I said, fed up with his attitude.
He looked mildly affronted and then looked at his hands and arms again.
"I was human this afternoon! I don't know what's going on."
I honestly was so fed up at this point. It's one thing to scare me, another to be so clueless about everything.
"Well if you were human before," I said circling my left hand quickly.
He straightened and nodded quickly.
"And you're a big dog wolf thing now," I continued.
He nodded again, the tatters of his shirt falling to the floor.
"Then you're, like, a werewolf or something," I concluded.
I stared at him for a while. He just looked at me with his jaws open. His big tongue was hanging out slightly and he looked stunned.
"I guess you're right," he said after a second.
My gears turned quickly. I wasn't about to be one of these bumbling idiots in an origin story. I wasn't about to be the side character that screams and takes off, shuddering under a blanket and sipping hot tea. Something in me said, *help this goon and get to work*.
"Well then. Let's get you back to your apartment and figure this out."
I took him by the arm and dragged him over to the door. He panted after me like a good dog, and we left his shirt behind. | Hi, I says, how do take care of that fur coat. I was just the right kind of coked out, active, fearless, but still coherent. Ideal for a night of household chores, followed Russian hardbass at the pivo z champanski, followed by the hours long, mindless fucking of strangers, followed by the afternoon special at Kolya's. Small town weekend. What else are you gonna do.
The furry guy didn't even glance over. Don't wear fur, he said, it's cruel. Do you know, he added, these fur things on jackets and bonnets? People don't even realise it's actual fur. You know what that's made of? Dogs. Man's best friend! The world is really headed towards some dark times.
He kept stuffing laundry into the machine. Didn't notice me staring. You tired? Says I, why don't you do like everybody and draw a line for the weekend?
A line? Ah, no, can't control myself on drugs. Says he, grabbing to where he expects his pant pockets.
Stops, looks at his reflection, then me, goes, ah shit. You know, I gotta eat you now. Can't let the knowledge spread. Sorry, you seem alright.
Me, on coke fueled courage, I came up with the only right answer. Who's gonna believe the stuff I see in a state like this? I say. Come on, I'll pay for your laundry and you can crash away my place, since you probably forgot your keys as well.
Anyway, that's my evening, sweetheart, wamna go to my place and fuck like rabbits? Maybe he'll even join in. Hey! Don't just walk off! Dammit, better keep that one to myself. | |
[WP] It's midnight on a weekend, and you're doing laundry at your apartment's laundromat. You hear the door swing open but pay it no mind until the fellow enters your peripherals and you see a very inhuman form. He is a werewolf, but is groggily just doing laundry. He hasn't realized he's changed. | *Whoosh. Swish. Click. Pause.*
The laundromat played it's age-old melody. It was essentially therapy after so many years. Ellie took off her glasses and rested her head on the wall behind her bench.
*Whoosh. Swish. Click. Pause. Brr.*
She imagined she was actually on a plane, descending on some tropical isle and not on a hard bench, in a landromat, at midnight, on a Saturday.
*Whoosh. Swish. Click.*
Jingle.
She frowned, in the middle of stirring a fruity drink in a beach bar. *How rude.*
Someone else had decided they need a retreat to the laundromat on a cold october evening. Ellie paid them no mind, as she tried to doze off again.
"Eyy, Ellie, how you doin'? Didn't you just get a new washer last week?"
Ah, John from two floors down. She straightened up against the wall, just a tiny little bit.
"You know how it is, they don't make them like they used to..."
"Ain't that the truth."
He continued on piling his laundry in a machine, his back to her at the other end of the room.
She opened one eye to spy on him lazily. Without her glasses, however, she was treated to just a vague blur. Not one to ever miss a free show, she quickly put them on and turned to look at him.
*Whoosh. Swish. Click.*
*Whoosh. Swish. Click. Brrr.*
"Uh..."
Her heart was pounding in her ears. But not because of his back, or his legs - or the way his arms flexed like that one time he was fixing his front door (that she definitely did not remember specifically and in detail).
"Yeah?"
Her brain was trying to make sense of the... thing before her. "... You feeling alright this evening, John?"
"Sure, why'd you..." he said, turning around "... ask." It took him a couple of seconds to process the horror on her face. "Oh."
*Whoosh. Swish. Click. Brrr.*
"Are you in a costume of some sort? Are you one of those folks..."
"No! No, I'm not. I mean... Uh.. What folks do you have in mind exactly?"
"You know... the ones that dress like animals and go frolick with each other?"
She took a moment to really look him over. His hair was three times longer (*still so pretty though*) and there was more... other hair, sticking out of his collar and between his trousers and shoes. He looked taller.
"Froli... noo, I'm not one of them. Pleasant bunch, but not my cup of tea."
"Then what... Excuse me, but what the fuck?" She gestured nervously in his general direction.
John sighed deeply and looked all of a sudden dead serious. He took a couple of steps and stood directly in front of her.
Ellie could not be more pressed to the wall behind her if she tried. *Not how I imagined something like this, at all...*
"Elanor. You can't tell anyone about this. About me. Please."
"But, what...? I don't understand anything..."
"Look. My dad took me hunting when I was little. Got bit by a rabid wolf. Now I'm like this every full moon. I'm sorry you had to see this."
Her laundry machine took this moment to end the cycle with a loud *PING*.
Ellie jumped a little. She continued to observe him, speechless at the absurdity of the situation.
"If you tell anybody they will lock me up. I'm not a monster, I don't *eat people*. I don't hunt. I'm not some tv cliche. I don't sparkle. I'm just... terribly inconvinienced once a month."
She was tempted to laugh at the last one, but her mouth got there faster than her brain. "I would never do anything to hurt you, John."
She clamped a hand on her mouth the moment the words left it.
His gaze changed then. He did not need heightened senses to read the situation.
She played it cool. "You know, it's not the werewolves that sparkle..."
"Oh? But we *can* do other things..."
He took a step forward and she did not stop him. | Hi, I says, how do take care of that fur coat. I was just the right kind of coked out, active, fearless, but still coherent. Ideal for a night of household chores, followed Russian hardbass at the pivo z champanski, followed by the hours long, mindless fucking of strangers, followed by the afternoon special at Kolya's. Small town weekend. What else are you gonna do.
The furry guy didn't even glance over. Don't wear fur, he said, it's cruel. Do you know, he added, these fur things on jackets and bonnets? People don't even realise it's actual fur. You know what that's made of? Dogs. Man's best friend! The world is really headed towards some dark times.
He kept stuffing laundry into the machine. Didn't notice me staring. You tired? Says I, why don't you do like everybody and draw a line for the weekend?
A line? Ah, no, can't control myself on drugs. Says he, grabbing to where he expects his pant pockets.
Stops, looks at his reflection, then me, goes, ah shit. You know, I gotta eat you now. Can't let the knowledge spread. Sorry, you seem alright.
Me, on coke fueled courage, I came up with the only right answer. Who's gonna believe the stuff I see in a state like this? I say. Come on, I'll pay for your laundry and you can crash away my place, since you probably forgot your keys as well.
Anyway, that's my evening, sweetheart, wamna go to my place and fuck like rabbits? Maybe he'll even join in. Hey! Don't just walk off! Dammit, better keep that one to myself. | |
[WP] It's midnight on a weekend, and you're doing laundry at your apartment's laundromat. You hear the door swing open but pay it no mind until the fellow enters your peripherals and you see a very inhuman form. He is a werewolf, but is groggily just doing laundry. He hasn't realized he's changed. | The shutter sound makes the other dude wake from a comfortable bout of somnlaundryism and swing around to confront you, the creep who obviously just did something creepily creepious.
You stand there and stare at your phone, only your eyes visible over the top. A quick glance up, a quick glance down. The anger rises in him, his teeth bare behind small lips, then suddenly abates when you slowly hold the phone out for him to take. He stares at your outstretched hand. After a quick steeling of your wits, you extend your phone further.
He reaches out and gasps when he sees his hand. It's amazingly hairy. He draws it back and looks down. His arms... his legs... everything that protrudes from his sleepy time go night night outfit is coated in dense hair.
He looks up at you. You nod and nod with your phone-holding hand in his general direction. Unconvinced by your urgency, you turn the phone around so he can see the picture you took. He looks at the picture and loses even more will to take the phone. After a moment of troubled contemplation, he takes the phone.
The screen comes into focus and he stares at himself in the image. After a long moment of horrific screaming (but only on the inside... he really doesn't want to wake anyone.), he drops the phone to his side and looks at you.
"Well... there goes my health coverage."
You stare, unsure what to say. He huffs slightly and points up and down at himself.
"Preexisting condition."
Your washer buzzes behind you. Both of you just stare. The urge that was rising within you takes over fully and you open your mouth to scream. | Hi, I says, how do take care of that fur coat. I was just the right kind of coked out, active, fearless, but still coherent. Ideal for a night of household chores, followed Russian hardbass at the pivo z champanski, followed by the hours long, mindless fucking of strangers, followed by the afternoon special at Kolya's. Small town weekend. What else are you gonna do.
The furry guy didn't even glance over. Don't wear fur, he said, it's cruel. Do you know, he added, these fur things on jackets and bonnets? People don't even realise it's actual fur. You know what that's made of? Dogs. Man's best friend! The world is really headed towards some dark times.
He kept stuffing laundry into the machine. Didn't notice me staring. You tired? Says I, why don't you do like everybody and draw a line for the weekend?
A line? Ah, no, can't control myself on drugs. Says he, grabbing to where he expects his pant pockets.
Stops, looks at his reflection, then me, goes, ah shit. You know, I gotta eat you now. Can't let the knowledge spread. Sorry, you seem alright.
Me, on coke fueled courage, I came up with the only right answer. Who's gonna believe the stuff I see in a state like this? I say. Come on, I'll pay for your laundry and you can crash away my place, since you probably forgot your keys as well.
Anyway, that's my evening, sweetheart, wamna go to my place and fuck like rabbits? Maybe he'll even join in. Hey! Don't just walk off! Dammit, better keep that one to myself. | |
[WP] It's midnight on a weekend, and you're doing laundry at your apartment's laundromat. You hear the door swing open but pay it no mind until the fellow enters your peripherals and you see a very inhuman form. He is a werewolf, but is groggily just doing laundry. He hasn't realized he's changed. | I guess I didn't realize werewolves could be blonde, and male pattern balding. Now that I thought about it, it made total sense, besides the huge swarming cloud of not sense that surrounded the situation. The sweatpants, though expanded to the limit, held firm around the waistline of the beast without splitting. It's hoodie already had a few holes in it, odd tufts of yellow hair popped through them, burn holes from a long life of dropped cigarette ashes and cherried bowls ejected from still smoking pipes.
I knew the man. Hans. His eyes met mine for a second, and in that second I was sure it was to be the last before his deathly lunge. But he nodded, pursing his lips into the neighborly non-smile of offices and churches worldwide. The wet streak running down the front was odorous of drying beer, and the distinct hint of nag champa. On an odd day he wasn't a prize to look at, an ever crusting partier of a sort, still clinging to a bygone 20-something day of popularity and zeal. Now that I thought of it, I'd seen a long gouge on his arm the last time. Guess he'd gone camping or something.
Hans popped out the front door to the rusting steel bench, plopping down heavily. The bolts wrenched in place a bit, but held, barely, as he fished a lighter and cigarettes out of the pocket of his sweater. With a little frustration due to his claws it finally sparked, and the werewolf took a long drag in the night air.
My washer bing-bonged delightedly, the final cycle complete. As I popped the lid, horror dawned on me. It was periwinkle. Every inch of my many yards of funerial wrappings, stained by a single purple sock abandoned by the last user. Ra dammit. | Hi, I says, how do take care of that fur coat. I was just the right kind of coked out, active, fearless, but still coherent. Ideal for a night of household chores, followed Russian hardbass at the pivo z champanski, followed by the hours long, mindless fucking of strangers, followed by the afternoon special at Kolya's. Small town weekend. What else are you gonna do.
The furry guy didn't even glance over. Don't wear fur, he said, it's cruel. Do you know, he added, these fur things on jackets and bonnets? People don't even realise it's actual fur. You know what that's made of? Dogs. Man's best friend! The world is really headed towards some dark times.
He kept stuffing laundry into the machine. Didn't notice me staring. You tired? Says I, why don't you do like everybody and draw a line for the weekend?
A line? Ah, no, can't control myself on drugs. Says he, grabbing to where he expects his pant pockets.
Stops, looks at his reflection, then me, goes, ah shit. You know, I gotta eat you now. Can't let the knowledge spread. Sorry, you seem alright.
Me, on coke fueled courage, I came up with the only right answer. Who's gonna believe the stuff I see in a state like this? I say. Come on, I'll pay for your laundry and you can crash away my place, since you probably forgot your keys as well.
Anyway, that's my evening, sweetheart, wamna go to my place and fuck like rabbits? Maybe he'll even join in. Hey! Don't just walk off! Dammit, better keep that one to myself. | |
[WP] It's midnight on a weekend, and you're doing laundry at your apartment's laundromat. You hear the door swing open but pay it no mind until the fellow enters your peripherals and you see a very inhuman form. He is a werewolf, but is groggily just doing laundry. He hasn't realized he's changed. | It was, for all relevant purposes, just another Saturday. Like every Saturday for what seemed like centuries my routine had been the same. Laundry. Wash. Dry. Fold. My hell if there is such a place.
The bell of the door rang as some else entered the laude mat. I didn't both to spare him a glance. It was Lenny. It was always Lenny. This time of night there was rarely anyone else.
As he muddled over to the unit beside me and started loading the machine. That's when i caught it out the corner of my eye. Think brown fur covered his arms. Fingers ended in sharp claws. Turning to take in his full form the face of a wolf glades back but paid me no mind. It's lower jaw covered in blood, as were much of the cloths he shoved into the washer.
A moment of terror washes over me, immediately overcome by rage.
" fuck in he'll Lenny, what did you do? I dropped the cloths i was folding and went to the Windows checking the street for followers. Nothing. Good.
Kenny was dazed, still coming down from a feeding haze. Withdrawal made the haze worse than it would be naturally.
"You forgot to take your pill again didn't you Kenny?" I pulled a small bottle from the pocket of my jacket and tapped out 2 pills i stuck in his open paw.
"Sorry Maxwell," lenny grumbled making his way to the vending machine for a drink to wash it down. " i must have, but i thought I'd taken them.
"Sorry isn't good enough. Our deal is clear. We have one chance. If we reveal ourselves to the humans he will kill us." I was frantically shoving the rest of the bloody cloths into the machine. And wiping done the counters. "You don't want to cross Michael."
Kenny threw back the pills and washed them down with a sprite. "I said i was sorry, what else do you want me to do?"
It was then that we felt it, a pulse of energy, ancient. powerful. Familiar.
"What was that?" Lenny was too young to remember. But I knew. A smirk stretching across my face. I pulled the pills from my pocket and stared at them momentarily.
"Lenny we are leaving, now."
"But Maxwell what about my cloths?"
"Forget your cloths idiot. Everything just changed." Under my breath i mutter the phase i thought I'd never live to say. "She's back."
I dropped the pill bottle in the trash on my way out the door. Kenny scrambling along to follow as his shifted back to human form. | Hi, I says, how do take care of that fur coat. I was just the right kind of coked out, active, fearless, but still coherent. Ideal for a night of household chores, followed Russian hardbass at the pivo z champanski, followed by the hours long, mindless fucking of strangers, followed by the afternoon special at Kolya's. Small town weekend. What else are you gonna do.
The furry guy didn't even glance over. Don't wear fur, he said, it's cruel. Do you know, he added, these fur things on jackets and bonnets? People don't even realise it's actual fur. You know what that's made of? Dogs. Man's best friend! The world is really headed towards some dark times.
He kept stuffing laundry into the machine. Didn't notice me staring. You tired? Says I, why don't you do like everybody and draw a line for the weekend?
A line? Ah, no, can't control myself on drugs. Says he, grabbing to where he expects his pant pockets.
Stops, looks at his reflection, then me, goes, ah shit. You know, I gotta eat you now. Can't let the knowledge spread. Sorry, you seem alright.
Me, on coke fueled courage, I came up with the only right answer. Who's gonna believe the stuff I see in a state like this? I say. Come on, I'll pay for your laundry and you can crash away my place, since you probably forgot your keys as well.
Anyway, that's my evening, sweetheart, wamna go to my place and fuck like rabbits? Maybe he'll even join in. Hey! Don't just walk off! Dammit, better keep that one to myself. | |
[WP] It's midnight on a weekend, and you're doing laundry at your apartment's laundromat. You hear the door swing open but pay it no mind until the fellow enters your peripherals and you see a very inhuman form. He is a werewolf, but is groggily just doing laundry. He hasn't realized he's changed. | Hard to believe im spending my Friday night doing laundry at midnight, Where did I fuck up in life to be here, I remember the rowdy parties, gaming sessions, and rounds of beer pong. I let out a heavy sigh as I reminisce on the good times and I start loading the dryer. As I start lamenting the fact that I only have 3 work shirts from my job at the pound, you'd think a government job would spend a little more for its employees, I notice a familiar shape to my left. I look over, at first thinking I was seeing someone carrying a German Sheppard mix past the machines , its not uncommon for people to bring dogs in here. Then I notice the neck and the body and the everything as it walks out from the row of machines. To say I nearly shit myself was an understatement, I was staring at what I could only describe as an honest to god werewolf.
He seemed half awake his eyes struggling to stay open as he slowly loaded the closest machine, wobbling in place. My mind was screaming at me, to run to do anything, but I was just frozen in place. I must of being starring in disbelief for what felt like an hour but in reality was only seconds as the werewolf continued to sloppily load his laundry, before looking over.
"oh hey, you,.. you ok mann, you need some help or ,uph, money for the , uh , the, dra, machine" he started to stumble over towards me fumbling in his right pocket, seemingly unaware of his current appearance of lack of shirt. He was shitfaced, I stepped back as he lurched forward and proceeded to drop a set of keys and procured a wallet. I sat there thinking what the fuck to do as a drunk werewolf inched ever closer, when he finally seemed to notice he was not in fact wearing a brown shirt. The drunken smile across his face replaced with panic, as he started looking at his arms and chest. the realization must of been as terrify for him as it was for me because he started stammering, "oh fuck , oh no, imm im not, im osrry, ohf uck" I watched as this drunken idiot turned around to run and slammed his head right on the open dryer door behind him.
I have no idea why maybe my brain was all fucked up from the fear and adrenaline, but in that moment, the absolute absurdity of the situation and the distinct thud of his head on the washer door was the funniest thing my sleep deprived brain had ever seen. all the tension of the last minute was released as I found myself doubled over and crying from laughter. From his seat on the floor he started joining in as well, laying back on the floor in his drunken stupor. As I finally started to regain my senses he was still on his back on the floor, suppressing laughs. I picked up the keys and saw that they were from the unit 3 doors down, I also picked up the wallet, and thought about peeking his ID before realizing it felt wrong.
as I looked over at the miserable mess lying beside me I resolved to help him out, I've had a far share of sad nights of heavy drinking alone and the mistakes that come with it. I collected the laundry before leaning down, to start pulling him up onto my shoulders, his large fur covered frame draped over me in half conscious state. and thats how we walked. hap hazardly veering back and forth as we conquered the 5 minute walk and the treacherous stairs to his apartment, as he drunkingly giggled in my right ear intermittently. I finally lay him into his bed a tremendous weight sliding from my shoulders. as he fell into place. It had been a while since I brought a guy to bed but never imagined something like this.
I don't know why, I didn't just leave then, Im usually conflict avoidant , especially when it comes to strangers, nerveless a literal monster on the bed, but I was worried. What if he had alcohol poisoning, its not like I could just bring him to hospital. What if someone saw, Maybe I could force him to throw up, his dumb wolf head was big enough to stick my hand into but what would happen if he bites. So many swirling thoughts going through my head, my body was still processing the over surge of adrenaline from earlier, I doubt I could sleep anytime soon. I looked over as he lay there so peacefully, his soft breaths , breaking the silence as he drifted off to sleep , and muttered a slurred ," i im sorry, th, tank you". As i sat next to him, I felt something I didn't realize I had even forgotten in my lonely heart, as I rubbed his ears, before finally succumbing to sleep as well.
Im sorry if this is bad im still pretty new to writing and don't know how to format anything on reddit. any and all advice is welcome. | Hi, I says, how do take care of that fur coat. I was just the right kind of coked out, active, fearless, but still coherent. Ideal for a night of household chores, followed Russian hardbass at the pivo z champanski, followed by the hours long, mindless fucking of strangers, followed by the afternoon special at Kolya's. Small town weekend. What else are you gonna do.
The furry guy didn't even glance over. Don't wear fur, he said, it's cruel. Do you know, he added, these fur things on jackets and bonnets? People don't even realise it's actual fur. You know what that's made of? Dogs. Man's best friend! The world is really headed towards some dark times.
He kept stuffing laundry into the machine. Didn't notice me staring. You tired? Says I, why don't you do like everybody and draw a line for the weekend?
A line? Ah, no, can't control myself on drugs. Says he, grabbing to where he expects his pant pockets.
Stops, looks at his reflection, then me, goes, ah shit. You know, I gotta eat you now. Can't let the knowledge spread. Sorry, you seem alright.
Me, on coke fueled courage, I came up with the only right answer. Who's gonna believe the stuff I see in a state like this? I say. Come on, I'll pay for your laundry and you can crash away my place, since you probably forgot your keys as well.
Anyway, that's my evening, sweetheart, wamna go to my place and fuck like rabbits? Maybe he'll even join in. Hey! Don't just walk off! Dammit, better keep that one to myself. | |
[WP] It's midnight on a weekend, and you're doing laundry at your apartment's laundromat. You hear the door swing open but pay it no mind until the fellow enters your peripherals and you see a very inhuman form. He is a werewolf, but is groggily just doing laundry. He hasn't realized he's changed. | "Hey," I said without thinking.
And I really wasn't thinking either. There was a huge upright dog standing right in front of me. The dog, if that was what it was, breathed huskily. His chest moved massively, his breath sounded ragged and there was a guttural groan on the edge of his breath.
"Hey," the dog said, his voice shaking my bones.
The dog was in the middle of shoving a blue sheet in the top dryer. He looked over at me with a questioning look.
"Can I help you?"
I started to say something but the dog stared at me with such innocent questioning in his large bright yellow eyes. I turned to my laundry and slowly scooped my pungent detergent.
Suddenly, the dog gasped softly. My head snapped over to the dog. He was staring at his hands, a shocked expression on his face. One of his sharp nails had torn straight through a shirt that said *Feed YOUR wild side* with a big Jack Links logo under it. The dog kept staring at his shirt and breathing heavily.
"Do you need some help?" I felt the question come out of my mouth involuntarily.
The dog turned to me and his jaw started quivering. His massive yellow eyes shined slightly with tears, and his hands -- paws, were shaking with emotional intensity. The scraps of his shirt were hanging off his paws morosely.
"This was my favorite shirt," the dog mumbled from behind 3-inch fangs.
I was so confused at this point. Where did the dog come from? Why was he trying to do laundry?
"Where did you come from?" I asked again, wondering where all this brazen curiosity was coming from.
"Oh--" the dog paused like he just finally realized I was there, "-- I'm over in apartment 209."
I was sort of gagged. I mean, this big dog creature was in my laundry room and now he was saying that he lived in my apartment. What was his deal?!
"Ok, dude. You need to tell me what's going on here or I'm gonna call the cops," I said, fed up with his attitude.
He looked mildly affronted and then looked at his hands and arms again.
"I was human this afternoon! I don't know what's going on."
I honestly was so fed up at this point. It's one thing to scare me, another to be so clueless about everything.
"Well if you were human before," I said circling my left hand quickly.
He straightened and nodded quickly.
"And you're a big dog wolf thing now," I continued.
He nodded again, the tatters of his shirt falling to the floor.
"Then you're, like, a werewolf or something," I concluded.
I stared at him for a while. He just looked at me with his jaws open. His big tongue was hanging out slightly and he looked stunned.
"I guess you're right," he said after a second.
My gears turned quickly. I wasn't about to be one of these bumbling idiots in an origin story. I wasn't about to be the side character that screams and takes off, shuddering under a blanket and sipping hot tea. Something in me said, *help this goon and get to work*.
"Well then. Let's get you back to your apartment and figure this out."
I took him by the arm and dragged him over to the door. He panted after me like a good dog, and we left his shirt behind. | "Um hello... " I said, unable to hide the confusion in my voice from the tall hairy figure standing beside me.
"Good evening." He responded seemingly unaware of thr fur covering his entire body.
"Sooooo you like a furry or something?" I suddenly realized the ridiculousness of thinking this man was a real werewolf. I needed a cup of coffee... or sleep... or both. The furry looled at me in confusion. Thrn down at his hands. A sudden look of panic took his face. My heart dropped. Was he actually a werewolf? That couldn't be, they went extinct. Unless... my thoughts were cut short as he let out a blood curdling sound. I couldn't tell if it was a roar, a howl, a scream or an unholy combination of the three. His shout turned into words. One word.
"Run" | |
[WP] It's midnight on a weekend, and you're doing laundry at your apartment's laundromat. You hear the door swing open but pay it no mind until the fellow enters your peripherals and you see a very inhuman form. He is a werewolf, but is groggily just doing laundry. He hasn't realized he's changed. | *Whoosh. Swish. Click. Pause.*
The laundromat played it's age-old melody. It was essentially therapy after so many years. Ellie took off her glasses and rested her head on the wall behind her bench.
*Whoosh. Swish. Click. Pause. Brr.*
She imagined she was actually on a plane, descending on some tropical isle and not on a hard bench, in a landromat, at midnight, on a Saturday.
*Whoosh. Swish. Click.*
Jingle.
She frowned, in the middle of stirring a fruity drink in a beach bar. *How rude.*
Someone else had decided they need a retreat to the laundromat on a cold october evening. Ellie paid them no mind, as she tried to doze off again.
"Eyy, Ellie, how you doin'? Didn't you just get a new washer last week?"
Ah, John from two floors down. She straightened up against the wall, just a tiny little bit.
"You know how it is, they don't make them like they used to..."
"Ain't that the truth."
He continued on piling his laundry in a machine, his back to her at the other end of the room.
She opened one eye to spy on him lazily. Without her glasses, however, she was treated to just a vague blur. Not one to ever miss a free show, she quickly put them on and turned to look at him.
*Whoosh. Swish. Click.*
*Whoosh. Swish. Click. Brrr.*
"Uh..."
Her heart was pounding in her ears. But not because of his back, or his legs - or the way his arms flexed like that one time he was fixing his front door (that she definitely did not remember specifically and in detail).
"Yeah?"
Her brain was trying to make sense of the... thing before her. "... You feeling alright this evening, John?"
"Sure, why'd you..." he said, turning around "... ask." It took him a couple of seconds to process the horror on her face. "Oh."
*Whoosh. Swish. Click. Brrr.*
"Are you in a costume of some sort? Are you one of those folks..."
"No! No, I'm not. I mean... Uh.. What folks do you have in mind exactly?"
"You know... the ones that dress like animals and go frolick with each other?"
She took a moment to really look him over. His hair was three times longer (*still so pretty though*) and there was more... other hair, sticking out of his collar and between his trousers and shoes. He looked taller.
"Froli... noo, I'm not one of them. Pleasant bunch, but not my cup of tea."
"Then what... Excuse me, but what the fuck?" She gestured nervously in his general direction.
John sighed deeply and looked all of a sudden dead serious. He took a couple of steps and stood directly in front of her.
Ellie could not be more pressed to the wall behind her if she tried. *Not how I imagined something like this, at all...*
"Elanor. You can't tell anyone about this. About me. Please."
"But, what...? I don't understand anything..."
"Look. My dad took me hunting when I was little. Got bit by a rabid wolf. Now I'm like this every full moon. I'm sorry you had to see this."
Her laundry machine took this moment to end the cycle with a loud *PING*.
Ellie jumped a little. She continued to observe him, speechless at the absurdity of the situation.
"If you tell anybody they will lock me up. I'm not a monster, I don't *eat people*. I don't hunt. I'm not some tv cliche. I don't sparkle. I'm just... terribly inconvinienced once a month."
She was tempted to laugh at the last one, but her mouth got there faster than her brain. "I would never do anything to hurt you, John."
She clamped a hand on her mouth the moment the words left it.
His gaze changed then. He did not need heightened senses to read the situation.
She played it cool. "You know, it's not the werewolves that sparkle..."
"Oh? But we *can* do other things..."
He took a step forward and she did not stop him. | "Um hello... " I said, unable to hide the confusion in my voice from the tall hairy figure standing beside me.
"Good evening." He responded seemingly unaware of thr fur covering his entire body.
"Sooooo you like a furry or something?" I suddenly realized the ridiculousness of thinking this man was a real werewolf. I needed a cup of coffee... or sleep... or both. The furry looled at me in confusion. Thrn down at his hands. A sudden look of panic took his face. My heart dropped. Was he actually a werewolf? That couldn't be, they went extinct. Unless... my thoughts were cut short as he let out a blood curdling sound. I couldn't tell if it was a roar, a howl, a scream or an unholy combination of the three. His shout turned into words. One word.
"Run" | |
[WP] It's midnight on a weekend, and you're doing laundry at your apartment's laundromat. You hear the door swing open but pay it no mind until the fellow enters your peripherals and you see a very inhuman form. He is a werewolf, but is groggily just doing laundry. He hasn't realized he's changed. | I guess I didn't realize werewolves could be blonde, and male pattern balding. Now that I thought about it, it made total sense, besides the huge swarming cloud of not sense that surrounded the situation. The sweatpants, though expanded to the limit, held firm around the waistline of the beast without splitting. It's hoodie already had a few holes in it, odd tufts of yellow hair popped through them, burn holes from a long life of dropped cigarette ashes and cherried bowls ejected from still smoking pipes.
I knew the man. Hans. His eyes met mine for a second, and in that second I was sure it was to be the last before his deathly lunge. But he nodded, pursing his lips into the neighborly non-smile of offices and churches worldwide. The wet streak running down the front was odorous of drying beer, and the distinct hint of nag champa. On an odd day he wasn't a prize to look at, an ever crusting partier of a sort, still clinging to a bygone 20-something day of popularity and zeal. Now that I thought of it, I'd seen a long gouge on his arm the last time. Guess he'd gone camping or something.
Hans popped out the front door to the rusting steel bench, plopping down heavily. The bolts wrenched in place a bit, but held, barely, as he fished a lighter and cigarettes out of the pocket of his sweater. With a little frustration due to his claws it finally sparked, and the werewolf took a long drag in the night air.
My washer bing-bonged delightedly, the final cycle complete. As I popped the lid, horror dawned on me. It was periwinkle. Every inch of my many yards of funerial wrappings, stained by a single purple sock abandoned by the last user. Ra dammit. | "Um hello... " I said, unable to hide the confusion in my voice from the tall hairy figure standing beside me.
"Good evening." He responded seemingly unaware of thr fur covering his entire body.
"Sooooo you like a furry or something?" I suddenly realized the ridiculousness of thinking this man was a real werewolf. I needed a cup of coffee... or sleep... or both. The furry looled at me in confusion. Thrn down at his hands. A sudden look of panic took his face. My heart dropped. Was he actually a werewolf? That couldn't be, they went extinct. Unless... my thoughts were cut short as he let out a blood curdling sound. I couldn't tell if it was a roar, a howl, a scream or an unholy combination of the three. His shout turned into words. One word.
"Run" | |
[WP] It's midnight on a weekend, and you're doing laundry at your apartment's laundromat. You hear the door swing open but pay it no mind until the fellow enters your peripherals and you see a very inhuman form. He is a werewolf, but is groggily just doing laundry. He hasn't realized he's changed. | Hard to believe im spending my Friday night doing laundry at midnight, Where did I fuck up in life to be here, I remember the rowdy parties, gaming sessions, and rounds of beer pong. I let out a heavy sigh as I reminisce on the good times and I start loading the dryer. As I start lamenting the fact that I only have 3 work shirts from my job at the pound, you'd think a government job would spend a little more for its employees, I notice a familiar shape to my left. I look over, at first thinking I was seeing someone carrying a German Sheppard mix past the machines , its not uncommon for people to bring dogs in here. Then I notice the neck and the body and the everything as it walks out from the row of machines. To say I nearly shit myself was an understatement, I was staring at what I could only describe as an honest to god werewolf.
He seemed half awake his eyes struggling to stay open as he slowly loaded the closest machine, wobbling in place. My mind was screaming at me, to run to do anything, but I was just frozen in place. I must of being starring in disbelief for what felt like an hour but in reality was only seconds as the werewolf continued to sloppily load his laundry, before looking over.
"oh hey, you,.. you ok mann, you need some help or ,uph, money for the , uh , the, dra, machine" he started to stumble over towards me fumbling in his right pocket, seemingly unaware of his current appearance of lack of shirt. He was shitfaced, I stepped back as he lurched forward and proceeded to drop a set of keys and procured a wallet. I sat there thinking what the fuck to do as a drunk werewolf inched ever closer, when he finally seemed to notice he was not in fact wearing a brown shirt. The drunken smile across his face replaced with panic, as he started looking at his arms and chest. the realization must of been as terrify for him as it was for me because he started stammering, "oh fuck , oh no, imm im not, im osrry, ohf uck" I watched as this drunken idiot turned around to run and slammed his head right on the open dryer door behind him.
I have no idea why maybe my brain was all fucked up from the fear and adrenaline, but in that moment, the absolute absurdity of the situation and the distinct thud of his head on the washer door was the funniest thing my sleep deprived brain had ever seen. all the tension of the last minute was released as I found myself doubled over and crying from laughter. From his seat on the floor he started joining in as well, laying back on the floor in his drunken stupor. As I finally started to regain my senses he was still on his back on the floor, suppressing laughs. I picked up the keys and saw that they were from the unit 3 doors down, I also picked up the wallet, and thought about peeking his ID before realizing it felt wrong.
as I looked over at the miserable mess lying beside me I resolved to help him out, I've had a far share of sad nights of heavy drinking alone and the mistakes that come with it. I collected the laundry before leaning down, to start pulling him up onto my shoulders, his large fur covered frame draped over me in half conscious state. and thats how we walked. hap hazardly veering back and forth as we conquered the 5 minute walk and the treacherous stairs to his apartment, as he drunkingly giggled in my right ear intermittently. I finally lay him into his bed a tremendous weight sliding from my shoulders. as he fell into place. It had been a while since I brought a guy to bed but never imagined something like this.
I don't know why, I didn't just leave then, Im usually conflict avoidant , especially when it comes to strangers, nerveless a literal monster on the bed, but I was worried. What if he had alcohol poisoning, its not like I could just bring him to hospital. What if someone saw, Maybe I could force him to throw up, his dumb wolf head was big enough to stick my hand into but what would happen if he bites. So many swirling thoughts going through my head, my body was still processing the over surge of adrenaline from earlier, I doubt I could sleep anytime soon. I looked over as he lay there so peacefully, his soft breaths , breaking the silence as he drifted off to sleep , and muttered a slurred ," i im sorry, th, tank you". As i sat next to him, I felt something I didn't realize I had even forgotten in my lonely heart, as I rubbed his ears, before finally succumbing to sleep as well.
Im sorry if this is bad im still pretty new to writing and don't know how to format anything on reddit. any and all advice is welcome. | "Um hello... " I said, unable to hide the confusion in my voice from the tall hairy figure standing beside me.
"Good evening." He responded seemingly unaware of thr fur covering his entire body.
"Sooooo you like a furry or something?" I suddenly realized the ridiculousness of thinking this man was a real werewolf. I needed a cup of coffee... or sleep... or both. The furry looled at me in confusion. Thrn down at his hands. A sudden look of panic took his face. My heart dropped. Was he actually a werewolf? That couldn't be, they went extinct. Unless... my thoughts were cut short as he let out a blood curdling sound. I couldn't tell if it was a roar, a howl, a scream or an unholy combination of the three. His shout turned into words. One word.
"Run" | |
[WP] It's midnight on a weekend, and you're doing laundry at your apartment's laundromat. You hear the door swing open but pay it no mind until the fellow enters your peripherals and you see a very inhuman form. He is a werewolf, but is groggily just doing laundry. He hasn't realized he's changed. | *Whoosh. Swish. Click. Pause.*
The laundromat played it's age-old melody. It was essentially therapy after so many years. Ellie took off her glasses and rested her head on the wall behind her bench.
*Whoosh. Swish. Click. Pause. Brr.*
She imagined she was actually on a plane, descending on some tropical isle and not on a hard bench, in a landromat, at midnight, on a Saturday.
*Whoosh. Swish. Click.*
Jingle.
She frowned, in the middle of stirring a fruity drink in a beach bar. *How rude.*
Someone else had decided they need a retreat to the laundromat on a cold october evening. Ellie paid them no mind, as she tried to doze off again.
"Eyy, Ellie, how you doin'? Didn't you just get a new washer last week?"
Ah, John from two floors down. She straightened up against the wall, just a tiny little bit.
"You know how it is, they don't make them like they used to..."
"Ain't that the truth."
He continued on piling his laundry in a machine, his back to her at the other end of the room.
She opened one eye to spy on him lazily. Without her glasses, however, she was treated to just a vague blur. Not one to ever miss a free show, she quickly put them on and turned to look at him.
*Whoosh. Swish. Click.*
*Whoosh. Swish. Click. Brrr.*
"Uh..."
Her heart was pounding in her ears. But not because of his back, or his legs - or the way his arms flexed like that one time he was fixing his front door (that she definitely did not remember specifically and in detail).
"Yeah?"
Her brain was trying to make sense of the... thing before her. "... You feeling alright this evening, John?"
"Sure, why'd you..." he said, turning around "... ask." It took him a couple of seconds to process the horror on her face. "Oh."
*Whoosh. Swish. Click. Brrr.*
"Are you in a costume of some sort? Are you one of those folks..."
"No! No, I'm not. I mean... Uh.. What folks do you have in mind exactly?"
"You know... the ones that dress like animals and go frolick with each other?"
She took a moment to really look him over. His hair was three times longer (*still so pretty though*) and there was more... other hair, sticking out of his collar and between his trousers and shoes. He looked taller.
"Froli... noo, I'm not one of them. Pleasant bunch, but not my cup of tea."
"Then what... Excuse me, but what the fuck?" She gestured nervously in his general direction.
John sighed deeply and looked all of a sudden dead serious. He took a couple of steps and stood directly in front of her.
Ellie could not be more pressed to the wall behind her if she tried. *Not how I imagined something like this, at all...*
"Elanor. You can't tell anyone about this. About me. Please."
"But, what...? I don't understand anything..."
"Look. My dad took me hunting when I was little. Got bit by a rabid wolf. Now I'm like this every full moon. I'm sorry you had to see this."
Her laundry machine took this moment to end the cycle with a loud *PING*.
Ellie jumped a little. She continued to observe him, speechless at the absurdity of the situation.
"If you tell anybody they will lock me up. I'm not a monster, I don't *eat people*. I don't hunt. I'm not some tv cliche. I don't sparkle. I'm just... terribly inconvinienced once a month."
She was tempted to laugh at the last one, but her mouth got there faster than her brain. "I would never do anything to hurt you, John."
She clamped a hand on her mouth the moment the words left it.
His gaze changed then. He did not need heightened senses to read the situation.
She played it cool. "You know, it's not the werewolves that sparkle..."
"Oh? But we *can* do other things..."
He took a step forward and she did not stop him. | "Hey," I said without thinking.
And I really wasn't thinking either. There was a huge upright dog standing right in front of me. The dog, if that was what it was, breathed huskily. His chest moved massively, his breath sounded ragged and there was a guttural groan on the edge of his breath.
"Hey," the dog said, his voice shaking my bones.
The dog was in the middle of shoving a blue sheet in the top dryer. He looked over at me with a questioning look.
"Can I help you?"
I started to say something but the dog stared at me with such innocent questioning in his large bright yellow eyes. I turned to my laundry and slowly scooped my pungent detergent.
Suddenly, the dog gasped softly. My head snapped over to the dog. He was staring at his hands, a shocked expression on his face. One of his sharp nails had torn straight through a shirt that said *Feed YOUR wild side* with a big Jack Links logo under it. The dog kept staring at his shirt and breathing heavily.
"Do you need some help?" I felt the question come out of my mouth involuntarily.
The dog turned to me and his jaw started quivering. His massive yellow eyes shined slightly with tears, and his hands -- paws, were shaking with emotional intensity. The scraps of his shirt were hanging off his paws morosely.
"This was my favorite shirt," the dog mumbled from behind 3-inch fangs.
I was so confused at this point. Where did the dog come from? Why was he trying to do laundry?
"Where did you come from?" I asked again, wondering where all this brazen curiosity was coming from.
"Oh--" the dog paused like he just finally realized I was there, "-- I'm over in apartment 209."
I was sort of gagged. I mean, this big dog creature was in my laundry room and now he was saying that he lived in my apartment. What was his deal?!
"Ok, dude. You need to tell me what's going on here or I'm gonna call the cops," I said, fed up with his attitude.
He looked mildly affronted and then looked at his hands and arms again.
"I was human this afternoon! I don't know what's going on."
I honestly was so fed up at this point. It's one thing to scare me, another to be so clueless about everything.
"Well if you were human before," I said circling my left hand quickly.
He straightened and nodded quickly.
"And you're a big dog wolf thing now," I continued.
He nodded again, the tatters of his shirt falling to the floor.
"Then you're, like, a werewolf or something," I concluded.
I stared at him for a while. He just looked at me with his jaws open. His big tongue was hanging out slightly and he looked stunned.
"I guess you're right," he said after a second.
My gears turned quickly. I wasn't about to be one of these bumbling idiots in an origin story. I wasn't about to be the side character that screams and takes off, shuddering under a blanket and sipping hot tea. Something in me said, *help this goon and get to work*.
"Well then. Let's get you back to your apartment and figure this out."
I took him by the arm and dragged him over to the door. He panted after me like a good dog, and we left his shirt behind. | |
[WP] It's midnight on a weekend, and you're doing laundry at your apartment's laundromat. You hear the door swing open but pay it no mind until the fellow enters your peripherals and you see a very inhuman form. He is a werewolf, but is groggily just doing laundry. He hasn't realized he's changed. | I guess I didn't realize werewolves could be blonde, and male pattern balding. Now that I thought about it, it made total sense, besides the huge swarming cloud of not sense that surrounded the situation. The sweatpants, though expanded to the limit, held firm around the waistline of the beast without splitting. It's hoodie already had a few holes in it, odd tufts of yellow hair popped through them, burn holes from a long life of dropped cigarette ashes and cherried bowls ejected from still smoking pipes.
I knew the man. Hans. His eyes met mine for a second, and in that second I was sure it was to be the last before his deathly lunge. But he nodded, pursing his lips into the neighborly non-smile of offices and churches worldwide. The wet streak running down the front was odorous of drying beer, and the distinct hint of nag champa. On an odd day he wasn't a prize to look at, an ever crusting partier of a sort, still clinging to a bygone 20-something day of popularity and zeal. Now that I thought of it, I'd seen a long gouge on his arm the last time. Guess he'd gone camping or something.
Hans popped out the front door to the rusting steel bench, plopping down heavily. The bolts wrenched in place a bit, but held, barely, as he fished a lighter and cigarettes out of the pocket of his sweater. With a little frustration due to his claws it finally sparked, and the werewolf took a long drag in the night air.
My washer bing-bonged delightedly, the final cycle complete. As I popped the lid, horror dawned on me. It was periwinkle. Every inch of my many yards of funerial wrappings, stained by a single purple sock abandoned by the last user. Ra dammit. | The shutter sound makes the other dude wake from a comfortable bout of somnlaundryism and swing around to confront you, the creep who obviously just did something creepily creepious.
You stand there and stare at your phone, only your eyes visible over the top. A quick glance up, a quick glance down. The anger rises in him, his teeth bare behind small lips, then suddenly abates when you slowly hold the phone out for him to take. He stares at your outstretched hand. After a quick steeling of your wits, you extend your phone further.
He reaches out and gasps when he sees his hand. It's amazingly hairy. He draws it back and looks down. His arms... his legs... everything that protrudes from his sleepy time go night night outfit is coated in dense hair.
He looks up at you. You nod and nod with your phone-holding hand in his general direction. Unconvinced by your urgency, you turn the phone around so he can see the picture you took. He looks at the picture and loses even more will to take the phone. After a moment of troubled contemplation, he takes the phone.
The screen comes into focus and he stares at himself in the image. After a long moment of horrific screaming (but only on the inside... he really doesn't want to wake anyone.), he drops the phone to his side and looks at you.
"Well... there goes my health coverage."
You stare, unsure what to say. He huffs slightly and points up and down at himself.
"Preexisting condition."
Your washer buzzes behind you. Both of you just stare. The urge that was rising within you takes over fully and you open your mouth to scream. | |
[WP] It's midnight on a weekend, and you're doing laundry at your apartment's laundromat. You hear the door swing open but pay it no mind until the fellow enters your peripherals and you see a very inhuman form. He is a werewolf, but is groggily just doing laundry. He hasn't realized he's changed. | Hard to believe im spending my Friday night doing laundry at midnight, Where did I fuck up in life to be here, I remember the rowdy parties, gaming sessions, and rounds of beer pong. I let out a heavy sigh as I reminisce on the good times and I start loading the dryer. As I start lamenting the fact that I only have 3 work shirts from my job at the pound, you'd think a government job would spend a little more for its employees, I notice a familiar shape to my left. I look over, at first thinking I was seeing someone carrying a German Sheppard mix past the machines , its not uncommon for people to bring dogs in here. Then I notice the neck and the body and the everything as it walks out from the row of machines. To say I nearly shit myself was an understatement, I was staring at what I could only describe as an honest to god werewolf.
He seemed half awake his eyes struggling to stay open as he slowly loaded the closest machine, wobbling in place. My mind was screaming at me, to run to do anything, but I was just frozen in place. I must of being starring in disbelief for what felt like an hour but in reality was only seconds as the werewolf continued to sloppily load his laundry, before looking over.
"oh hey, you,.. you ok mann, you need some help or ,uph, money for the , uh , the, dra, machine" he started to stumble over towards me fumbling in his right pocket, seemingly unaware of his current appearance of lack of shirt. He was shitfaced, I stepped back as he lurched forward and proceeded to drop a set of keys and procured a wallet. I sat there thinking what the fuck to do as a drunk werewolf inched ever closer, when he finally seemed to notice he was not in fact wearing a brown shirt. The drunken smile across his face replaced with panic, as he started looking at his arms and chest. the realization must of been as terrify for him as it was for me because he started stammering, "oh fuck , oh no, imm im not, im osrry, ohf uck" I watched as this drunken idiot turned around to run and slammed his head right on the open dryer door behind him.
I have no idea why maybe my brain was all fucked up from the fear and adrenaline, but in that moment, the absolute absurdity of the situation and the distinct thud of his head on the washer door was the funniest thing my sleep deprived brain had ever seen. all the tension of the last minute was released as I found myself doubled over and crying from laughter. From his seat on the floor he started joining in as well, laying back on the floor in his drunken stupor. As I finally started to regain my senses he was still on his back on the floor, suppressing laughs. I picked up the keys and saw that they were from the unit 3 doors down, I also picked up the wallet, and thought about peeking his ID before realizing it felt wrong.
as I looked over at the miserable mess lying beside me I resolved to help him out, I've had a far share of sad nights of heavy drinking alone and the mistakes that come with it. I collected the laundry before leaning down, to start pulling him up onto my shoulders, his large fur covered frame draped over me in half conscious state. and thats how we walked. hap hazardly veering back and forth as we conquered the 5 minute walk and the treacherous stairs to his apartment, as he drunkingly giggled in my right ear intermittently. I finally lay him into his bed a tremendous weight sliding from my shoulders. as he fell into place. It had been a while since I brought a guy to bed but never imagined something like this.
I don't know why, I didn't just leave then, Im usually conflict avoidant , especially when it comes to strangers, nerveless a literal monster on the bed, but I was worried. What if he had alcohol poisoning, its not like I could just bring him to hospital. What if someone saw, Maybe I could force him to throw up, his dumb wolf head was big enough to stick my hand into but what would happen if he bites. So many swirling thoughts going through my head, my body was still processing the over surge of adrenaline from earlier, I doubt I could sleep anytime soon. I looked over as he lay there so peacefully, his soft breaths , breaking the silence as he drifted off to sleep , and muttered a slurred ," i im sorry, th, tank you". As i sat next to him, I felt something I didn't realize I had even forgotten in my lonely heart, as I rubbed his ears, before finally succumbing to sleep as well.
Im sorry if this is bad im still pretty new to writing and don't know how to format anything on reddit. any and all advice is welcome. | The shutter sound makes the other dude wake from a comfortable bout of somnlaundryism and swing around to confront you, the creep who obviously just did something creepily creepious.
You stand there and stare at your phone, only your eyes visible over the top. A quick glance up, a quick glance down. The anger rises in him, his teeth bare behind small lips, then suddenly abates when you slowly hold the phone out for him to take. He stares at your outstretched hand. After a quick steeling of your wits, you extend your phone further.
He reaches out and gasps when he sees his hand. It's amazingly hairy. He draws it back and looks down. His arms... his legs... everything that protrudes from his sleepy time go night night outfit is coated in dense hair.
He looks up at you. You nod and nod with your phone-holding hand in his general direction. Unconvinced by your urgency, you turn the phone around so he can see the picture you took. He looks at the picture and loses even more will to take the phone. After a moment of troubled contemplation, he takes the phone.
The screen comes into focus and he stares at himself in the image. After a long moment of horrific screaming (but only on the inside... he really doesn't want to wake anyone.), he drops the phone to his side and looks at you.
"Well... there goes my health coverage."
You stare, unsure what to say. He huffs slightly and points up and down at himself.
"Preexisting condition."
Your washer buzzes behind you. Both of you just stare. The urge that was rising within you takes over fully and you open your mouth to scream. | |
[WP] It's midnight on a weekend, and you're doing laundry at your apartment's laundromat. You hear the door swing open but pay it no mind until the fellow enters your peripherals and you see a very inhuman form. He is a werewolf, but is groggily just doing laundry. He hasn't realized he's changed. | Hard to believe im spending my Friday night doing laundry at midnight, Where did I fuck up in life to be here, I remember the rowdy parties, gaming sessions, and rounds of beer pong. I let out a heavy sigh as I reminisce on the good times and I start loading the dryer. As I start lamenting the fact that I only have 3 work shirts from my job at the pound, you'd think a government job would spend a little more for its employees, I notice a familiar shape to my left. I look over, at first thinking I was seeing someone carrying a German Sheppard mix past the machines , its not uncommon for people to bring dogs in here. Then I notice the neck and the body and the everything as it walks out from the row of machines. To say I nearly shit myself was an understatement, I was staring at what I could only describe as an honest to god werewolf.
He seemed half awake his eyes struggling to stay open as he slowly loaded the closest machine, wobbling in place. My mind was screaming at me, to run to do anything, but I was just frozen in place. I must of being starring in disbelief for what felt like an hour but in reality was only seconds as the werewolf continued to sloppily load his laundry, before looking over.
"oh hey, you,.. you ok mann, you need some help or ,uph, money for the , uh , the, dra, machine" he started to stumble over towards me fumbling in his right pocket, seemingly unaware of his current appearance of lack of shirt. He was shitfaced, I stepped back as he lurched forward and proceeded to drop a set of keys and procured a wallet. I sat there thinking what the fuck to do as a drunk werewolf inched ever closer, when he finally seemed to notice he was not in fact wearing a brown shirt. The drunken smile across his face replaced with panic, as he started looking at his arms and chest. the realization must of been as terrify for him as it was for me because he started stammering, "oh fuck , oh no, imm im not, im osrry, ohf uck" I watched as this drunken idiot turned around to run and slammed his head right on the open dryer door behind him.
I have no idea why maybe my brain was all fucked up from the fear and adrenaline, but in that moment, the absolute absurdity of the situation and the distinct thud of his head on the washer door was the funniest thing my sleep deprived brain had ever seen. all the tension of the last minute was released as I found myself doubled over and crying from laughter. From his seat on the floor he started joining in as well, laying back on the floor in his drunken stupor. As I finally started to regain my senses he was still on his back on the floor, suppressing laughs. I picked up the keys and saw that they were from the unit 3 doors down, I also picked up the wallet, and thought about peeking his ID before realizing it felt wrong.
as I looked over at the miserable mess lying beside me I resolved to help him out, I've had a far share of sad nights of heavy drinking alone and the mistakes that come with it. I collected the laundry before leaning down, to start pulling him up onto my shoulders, his large fur covered frame draped over me in half conscious state. and thats how we walked. hap hazardly veering back and forth as we conquered the 5 minute walk and the treacherous stairs to his apartment, as he drunkingly giggled in my right ear intermittently. I finally lay him into his bed a tremendous weight sliding from my shoulders. as he fell into place. It had been a while since I brought a guy to bed but never imagined something like this.
I don't know why, I didn't just leave then, Im usually conflict avoidant , especially when it comes to strangers, nerveless a literal monster on the bed, but I was worried. What if he had alcohol poisoning, its not like I could just bring him to hospital. What if someone saw, Maybe I could force him to throw up, his dumb wolf head was big enough to stick my hand into but what would happen if he bites. So many swirling thoughts going through my head, my body was still processing the over surge of adrenaline from earlier, I doubt I could sleep anytime soon. I looked over as he lay there so peacefully, his soft breaths , breaking the silence as he drifted off to sleep , and muttered a slurred ," i im sorry, th, tank you". As i sat next to him, I felt something I didn't realize I had even forgotten in my lonely heart, as I rubbed his ears, before finally succumbing to sleep as well.
Im sorry if this is bad im still pretty new to writing and don't know how to format anything on reddit. any and all advice is welcome. | I guess I didn't realize werewolves could be blonde, and male pattern balding. Now that I thought about it, it made total sense, besides the huge swarming cloud of not sense that surrounded the situation. The sweatpants, though expanded to the limit, held firm around the waistline of the beast without splitting. It's hoodie already had a few holes in it, odd tufts of yellow hair popped through them, burn holes from a long life of dropped cigarette ashes and cherried bowls ejected from still smoking pipes.
I knew the man. Hans. His eyes met mine for a second, and in that second I was sure it was to be the last before his deathly lunge. But he nodded, pursing his lips into the neighborly non-smile of offices and churches worldwide. The wet streak running down the front was odorous of drying beer, and the distinct hint of nag champa. On an odd day he wasn't a prize to look at, an ever crusting partier of a sort, still clinging to a bygone 20-something day of popularity and zeal. Now that I thought of it, I'd seen a long gouge on his arm the last time. Guess he'd gone camping or something.
Hans popped out the front door to the rusting steel bench, plopping down heavily. The bolts wrenched in place a bit, but held, barely, as he fished a lighter and cigarettes out of the pocket of his sweater. With a little frustration due to his claws it finally sparked, and the werewolf took a long drag in the night air.
My washer bing-bonged delightedly, the final cycle complete. As I popped the lid, horror dawned on me. It was periwinkle. Every inch of my many yards of funerial wrappings, stained by a single purple sock abandoned by the last user. Ra dammit. | |
[WP] It's midnight on a weekend, and you're doing laundry at your apartment's laundromat. You hear the door swing open but pay it no mind until the fellow enters your peripherals and you see a very inhuman form. He is a werewolf, but is groggily just doing laundry. He hasn't realized he's changed. | As soon as I saw what it was that came through the door, I immediatly started to swing my head and eyes around wildly, scanning the laundromat for anyone else. I was alone in here with this monster; Thank god.
"Hey, Carlito.", I greeted the beast.
"Oh. Que pasa, Johnny?", he said with surprise as he tiresomely glanced in my direction. He hadn't even noticed me standing in the middle of the isles of washers.
I could tell he was moving slow and looking beat down. "You feeling ok, man? Esta todo bien?"
"Yeah. I'm alright. Pinche muy cansado; It's been a long day.", he said as he fumbled a handful of quarters.
"Well, I don't know if you have noticed or not, but..."
He cut me off, "What's up?".
"Your fur is showing, man."
"Pinche madre!", he cursed under his breath.
"Again?! Goddamnit. I'll be right back. You watch my stuff, yeah?", he asked with urgancy.
I nodded. "Yeah, dude. No worries, I got you."
He reached back into a washer and pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, and quickly scanned the room before crouching down and scuttling to the bathroom.
"Hey, man. Muchos gracias. Third time this month I've forgotten. Thanks, again, man.", he said as he walked back up to his washer.
"It's all good, Carlito. I'm just glad it was only me in here to see you."
"Me too, homes. Me too. Thanks. You're, like, the only one around here who knows.", he said, looking me in the eyes. "Ya, know... we're having a cook-out next sunday and you should come by. Abuelita is making tamales and salsa. It'll be good, man. They will like you."
"Sure, man. That sounds nice. But, I have to ask: Are y'all all... you know..."
"Lobos?", he laughed and nodded. "Si, guey. The whole family. It's cool, though, homie. I will tell them how you have treated me. They will love you like family. Plus, guey, some of my primas are into white dudes. You'll be fine." | I hum to myself as I unload my laundry into the washing machine. I hear the door squeak open and feet shuffling but pay no attention. As the stranger manoeuvres, something catches my eye. Fur? I subtly angle my head in the stranger’s direction, who is actually really tall. Considering that I am kneeling, I can only see his forearms, and damn, are they hairy. But I’ve never seen body hair so smooth? It looks so much like a wolf’s fur —
I scream and fall back as I take in the stranger’s face. The stranger jumps as he snaps his head towards me. I point at his face, bewildered and speechless. I open my mouth to say something but it feels like there’s something stuck in my throat. His face looks half-animal half-human like. I’ve never seen a face like that before except in movies.
Then I realise who he is.
Oliver, my ex, who broke up with me without giving me a reason and hence I’m still unable to move on from. And yes, he stays in the same apartment building as me.
“Aria?” He says, and my heart strings pull a little. I haven’t heard him call my name in awhile.
“What are you doing?” I ask, still feeling bitter about the break up and the fact that he has moved on and has the mood to pull such a joke. It has only been a month since we broke up.
“What do you mean?” He asks, confusion written all over his face.
“What’s your point of wearing this mask?” I gesture, and wonder if he didn’t even know he was wearing a mask. What an idiot.
His eyes widen and he turns to look at his reflection on the black glass window behind him.
“Shit,” he curses, “I forgot that it’s the full moon tonight.”
“Jokes over,” I roll my eyes and fold my arms.
He turns to me with a dead serious expression. Wow, his acting skills are pretty on point.
“This is bad,” he panics and starts pacing back and forth in the room. I feel my frustration rising.
“Please stop, it’s not funny.” I say, holding back my tears. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing I am still not over him. But in actuality, I just wanted to run back to my apartment and cry. Seeing him breaks my heart all over again.
“This is not a mask. See?” He pulls and pinches his cheeks. He comes close to me and I stumble back at the abrupt closeness. The familiar smell of his shampoo hits me. I’ve missed it. He nods his head and invites me to touch his face. I hesitantly raise my hand and place it on his cheek. It’s warm. And his face is attached to his head. My heart skips a beat. Before I can react, he lurches back and grunts in pain. I am still confused and my mind’s hazy.
“W-what’s going on?” I ask.
“As you can see, I’m a—“ he sighs and looks at me,
“Werewolf.”
I blink, waiting for him to elaborate.
“I left because of this,” he mumbles quietly. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”
Tears well up in my eyes as I look at the ground. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask.
“Ari...” he says endearingly as he lifts my chin. “I didn’t know how to. You wouldn’t have believed me.” He explains. He is right. But it didn’t make me feel any better.
“I need you to help me,” he pleads as he wipes the lone tear that falls down my cheek. “I need you to tie me up to that wall before it’s too late. Please?”
I nod my head and proceed to follow his instructions. Once every few seconds, he grunts in pain and he turns more wolf-like. Truth be told, it scared me.
“Leave after you’re done, okay? R-run away as fast as you can, and lock the d-door behind you,” his face contorts in pain. My heart aches. I want to take that pain away from him.
I tie the last knot tightly against the wall. By now, Oliver looks almost like a wolf.
“Leave!” It sounds like a voice hidden in a howl. I turn to run but trip on the clothes and fall.
I hear a growl. I shakily look up in fear as I see Oliver —fully wolf, staring menacingly at me.
“Oliver?” I whisper, hoping he still recognises me.
There is no look of recognition. I didn’t dare to move. I was too near that I would not be able to outrun him. The wolf lurches forward and the clothes pull him back. He easily uses his canines to rip the clothes apart. And he is free.
He saunters toward me like a predator, his eyes fixed on me. I hold my breath and shut my eyes.
I guess this is it. | |
[WP] It's midnight on a weekend, and you're doing laundry at your apartment's laundromat. You hear the door swing open but pay it no mind until the fellow enters your peripherals and you see a very inhuman form. He is a werewolf, but is groggily just doing laundry. He hasn't realized he's changed. | I shoved my laundry into the washer, both arms elbow deep inside my dirty laundry as the bell rang and the old door creaked open. I freed my arms and looked over slowly. I hate people and just wanted to do my laundry in peace.
I gasped, eyes wide as they looked at me in confusion. I could feel that general air of excitement welling around me. I knew how stupid I looked and I didn't care at that moment.
"Can I, uh, help you?" The fluffy, lumbering werewolf stopped when we met eyes, letting the door close behind him.
"Fluuuufffffffy," It came out in a squeal that was maybe a bit louder than I meant it to be.
He looked down, looked at me and then over his shoulder at the door. "Uh, oh, my bad, I, uh, ran out of clothes to do laundry in..."
"Can I touch?" I ignored the nervous chuckle as I took a step closer.
"I'd prefer you didn't..." He backed up a step, maybe to escape. But his back hit the door, which from this side was a pull door.
"That sucks," I pulled a chair up and climbed atop it so that I could reach his head. I patted it gently and was thrilled at how soft the fur was.
"I... What are you doing?" He was frozen. Maybe the situation hadn't sunk in completely, maybe no one had ever given the good boy head pats, maybe I don't care.
"I'm patting your head. You're very soft and I like it," I grinned.
"You're not... Afraid?" He seemed to relax just the slightest. I set my fingertips into the spot behind his ear as a test. Scratching, I watched him. His tail was wagging.
"You're a werewolf, hairy," I whispered, barely able to contain my glee. "How does it work? Can I join the club? I've always wanted to be a werewolf. I knew they- you- were real!"
"Look, I'm just here to do laundry."
"Fuck, my laundry," I hopped down from the chair and rushed to get my laundry started. As I was pushing quarters in, I could hear him loading the machine a few feet from me.
It was silence for a few minutes as we worked, then I heard him swear under his breath. I looked and he was shaking his soap container, trying to get the last little bit out. I was practically vibrating as I grabbed my almost full bottle.
"You can use some of mine if you want?" I reached out, wiggling the bottle at him. "I'm Sidney, by the way. Uh, I don't have friends, but I imagine they'd call me Sid if I did."
"Phillip. Not Phil," he took the soap and finished getting his laundry going. His quarters were in a little drawstring bag inside of his basket.
"Sooooo...." I leaned against the machine.
"Uh, it's kinda hard to talk like this," he made a vague gesture towards his face. "It takes a lot of practice and is tiring."
"Oh yeah, I probably should've realized that. Uh, we could exchange numbers? Or wait, is that weird?" I realized how ridiculous I'd been acting, like a brick was thrown through the window of reality. I didn't have friends for a reason. "I'm... Sorry. I get excitable and forget about other people's feelings. I have a... Disorder. Social Pragmatic Communication Disorder, actually. I just... I got really excited and you don't scare me like other humans do."
Phillip gaped for a moment and then ran his hand over his ears, like one would run a hand through their hair if they were frazzled. "I... Haven't heard of that, but I guess I get what you're saying."
I sighed and sat in one of the crummy plastic chairs that spotted the room. "I'll leave you alone. I'm sorry..."
The feelings of guilt and shame were starting to sink in again. My excitement faded to a distant memory as I relived my actions of the last few minutes. I should have learned by now, but I always made the same mistakes when it came to people. It was so easy to forget social etiquette when I had the single minded determination to pet the soft thing. No, that's wrong, he's not a thing, but I had treated him like one. The tears were starting to well up as I berated myself over and over again.
"Hey," Phillip's voice was a low rumble. Not threatening, more like a soft, gravelly coo. I didn't look up because I was afraid of the insults that would follow. A slip of paper appeared in my line of vision. "I'm... Not mad. I was surprised. This is my number if you want to talk. I don't have many friends either, so I understand being lonely."
I looked up and felt the tears roll down my cheek with the movement. "Can... I text? I don't like talking on the phone..."
"That's cool," he nodded. "I'm in apartment 8."
"Apartment 2," I took the slip of paper and felt a smile pulling at my lips again. "Thank you. I'll try to do better in the future,"
He nodded and we sat in silence the rest of the night. | I hum to myself as I unload my laundry into the washing machine. I hear the door squeak open and feet shuffling but pay no attention. As the stranger manoeuvres, something catches my eye. Fur? I subtly angle my head in the stranger’s direction, who is actually really tall. Considering that I am kneeling, I can only see his forearms, and damn, are they hairy. But I’ve never seen body hair so smooth? It looks so much like a wolf’s fur —
I scream and fall back as I take in the stranger’s face. The stranger jumps as he snaps his head towards me. I point at his face, bewildered and speechless. I open my mouth to say something but it feels like there’s something stuck in my throat. His face looks half-animal half-human like. I’ve never seen a face like that before except in movies.
Then I realise who he is.
Oliver, my ex, who broke up with me without giving me a reason and hence I’m still unable to move on from. And yes, he stays in the same apartment building as me.
“Aria?” He says, and my heart strings pull a little. I haven’t heard him call my name in awhile.
“What are you doing?” I ask, still feeling bitter about the break up and the fact that he has moved on and has the mood to pull such a joke. It has only been a month since we broke up.
“What do you mean?” He asks, confusion written all over his face.
“What’s your point of wearing this mask?” I gesture, and wonder if he didn’t even know he was wearing a mask. What an idiot.
His eyes widen and he turns to look at his reflection on the black glass window behind him.
“Shit,” he curses, “I forgot that it’s the full moon tonight.”
“Jokes over,” I roll my eyes and fold my arms.
He turns to me with a dead serious expression. Wow, his acting skills are pretty on point.
“This is bad,” he panics and starts pacing back and forth in the room. I feel my frustration rising.
“Please stop, it’s not funny.” I say, holding back my tears. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing I am still not over him. But in actuality, I just wanted to run back to my apartment and cry. Seeing him breaks my heart all over again.
“This is not a mask. See?” He pulls and pinches his cheeks. He comes close to me and I stumble back at the abrupt closeness. The familiar smell of his shampoo hits me. I’ve missed it. He nods his head and invites me to touch his face. I hesitantly raise my hand and place it on his cheek. It’s warm. And his face is attached to his head. My heart skips a beat. Before I can react, he lurches back and grunts in pain. I am still confused and my mind’s hazy.
“W-what’s going on?” I ask.
“As you can see, I’m a—“ he sighs and looks at me,
“Werewolf.”
I blink, waiting for him to elaborate.
“I left because of this,” he mumbles quietly. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”
Tears well up in my eyes as I look at the ground. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask.
“Ari...” he says endearingly as he lifts my chin. “I didn’t know how to. You wouldn’t have believed me.” He explains. He is right. But it didn’t make me feel any better.
“I need you to help me,” he pleads as he wipes the lone tear that falls down my cheek. “I need you to tie me up to that wall before it’s too late. Please?”
I nod my head and proceed to follow his instructions. Once every few seconds, he grunts in pain and he turns more wolf-like. Truth be told, it scared me.
“Leave after you’re done, okay? R-run away as fast as you can, and lock the d-door behind you,” his face contorts in pain. My heart aches. I want to take that pain away from him.
I tie the last knot tightly against the wall. By now, Oliver looks almost like a wolf.
“Leave!” It sounds like a voice hidden in a howl. I turn to run but trip on the clothes and fall.
I hear a growl. I shakily look up in fear as I see Oliver —fully wolf, staring menacingly at me.
“Oliver?” I whisper, hoping he still recognises me.
There is no look of recognition. I didn’t dare to move. I was too near that I would not be able to outrun him. The wolf lurches forward and the clothes pull him back. He easily uses his canines to rip the clothes apart. And he is free.
He saunters toward me like a predator, his eyes fixed on me. I hold my breath and shut my eyes.
I guess this is it. | |
[WP] It's midnight on a weekend, and you're doing laundry at your apartment's laundromat. You hear the door swing open but pay it no mind until the fellow enters your peripherals and you see a very inhuman form. He is a werewolf, but is groggily just doing laundry. He hasn't realized he's changed. | I checked my phone as the werewolf lumbered in. Of course, nowadays werewolves were more like were dogs. His ears were partially folded over, and despite his smaller-than-normal stature, he managed to carry his laundry basket with ease.
I wracked my memory, trying to remember if any of my neighbors had mentioned lycanthropy.
“Damn it...” the weredog murmured. He turned to face me.. He seemed surprised to see me standing there. “Uh... Do you have any dryer sheets or perfume? I can’t get this terrible smell out of my clothes...”
“Yeah.” I pulled out a waxy dryer sheet and handed it to him. He stared at my arm long after I’d handed him the sheet. I wondered if he knew he’d shifted. Nowadays weredogs were so common that apartments advertised “shifting rooms” for more aggressive shifters.
He cleared his throat, glancing at you awkwardly. “So... full moon tonight.”
“Yeah...” I replied, trying to focus on not staring. I was feeling kind of sick... maybe I should’ve picked up some ibuprofen when I’d been at the store.
“Seems like the last one was only a few days ago.”
“I don’t really... I don’t keep track, usually.” I could smell him across the laundry room. He smelled like corn chips... and something vaguely waxy.
The hair rose on the back of my neck as he approached. He leaned against the washing machine besides me. “I’m Harry. It’s my third year.”
“Uh...” what did he mean by third year? I smiled awkwardly. “I’m not really comfortable with... giving my name out.”
“Totally fine.” Harry said, looking me up and down. “What happened to your arm?”
“Oh...” I looked at my arm. A wound oozed blackish red goop. Huh... when had that happened? “I.... don’t know.” With that, my legs gave out and I slid down the front of the washing machine. I couldn’t stop looking at my arm. Had I bumped against something on the way over?
“Woah, there.” Harry’s fur poofed up a little. “I’m calling an ambulance, okay?”
“I don’t...” Why was i so woozy? Why did my bones hurt? “I’m fine... I’ll just take a nap behind a washing machine.” A fog had descended over my mind. I tried to crawl between the dryers into the warm, comforting darkness.
“No, no, no...” Harry grabbed me by the waist and stopped me from moving forward. “Stay out here.”
“Warm....” I murmured as I reached out one arm.
“Hello? 911?” Harry lost his grip on me as he pulled out he phone. The metal sides of the dryers were warm as I squeezed between them. “I’ve got a friend... well, I don’t know them, but I think they got bit. No... they’re not shifting yet. Pretty bad... they’re denning. Okay... okay.”
I tucked my body into an alcove between the dryers and the wall, happy to be in a secure space. Harry peered over to look at me, still holding his cell phone to his floppy ear . “The paramedics are going to be here In a couple minutes, okay? Everything is going to be fine.” To the phone, he said, “they’re definitely shifting, but it’s super slow.”
“Don’ even bother...” I slurred, the aching in my bones made it difficult to talk. I was warm, and then I got warmer. The ache intensified until it morphed into a blessed mental numbness. Time passed. Dryers scraped loudly as the paramedics moved the apparatus. It hurt my ears.
“Poor thing...” One paramedic said as they put a blanket over me and strapped something to my face, being careful with my nose as they did.
“I’m right here, okay?” Harry was next to me, holding my paw. He trotted alongside the gurney as it was wheeled to the ambulance. Everything smelled so strong.
We passed the entrance to my apartment building. Blue-uniformed cops were crowding the area. I could smell... myself on the wind. Like someone had taken my smell and had splattered it across the cracked cement. I moved slightly, trying to get to the wound on my leg. Every time I tried to lick it, a gentle hand pushed my head away.
As I was lifted into the ambulance I heard one of the EMTs say “imagine doing laundry after being bitten. They’re in for a shock tomorrow morning.” | Every weekend, precisely at midnight, I do my laundry. It's not by choice really. I work at night on the weekdays and I don't want to mess up my sleep schedule. I sighed as I measure out the bleach and pour it into the receptacle. I haven't seen daylight in years. Night jobs suck.
The laundry room door swung open with a creak and slowly swung shut. One thing I like about midnight laundry is hardly anyone ever comes in. I'm free to use as many machines as I like. But... being single, it's usually just three, sheets, lights and darks. That leaves plenty for anyone coming in. Not that that happens often. Most people just show up once then never again.
The midnighter walks around the double row of washing machines and starts tossing clothes into the washing machines opposite of mine. Careful to separate out the lights from the darks. I freeze. A werewolf! I think? Short white fur spotted with black poke out from beneath her white blouse and cover the entirety of her skin. Her long snout and ears are pure Dalmatian but the way she chewed her lips while reading the directions on the machine reveal a human side. If it's a Dalmatian, do I call her a werematian? werenine? weredog? I just couldn't help myself not to stare.
She glanced up as if to ask me a question then froze, a look of horror spread across her canine features.
"Ahem... Uh... hey... don't be afraid. It's OK. My name is Pete from 313. What's yours?"
The weredog raises her hackles and inches her way towards the door.
"Wait! Please don't go! Please, look at your hand. Please. Look." I hold out my hands in the universal gesture of friend. "Please stay."
She raises her hand into view, never taking her eyes off of me. With a whimper of frustration, she drops into one of the nearby seats and looks down at the floor. Fear and tension escape her body leaving behind only sadness.
"My name is Penny from 402. I just moved to the city last week. "I... you..." Penny look towards me, sniffing the air.
I nod and glide through the washing machines, careful not to block her escape. "Yep, a genuine bonified apparition. A ghost. Nice to meet you Penny from 402." | |
[WP] It's midnight on a weekend, and you're doing laundry at your apartment's laundromat. You hear the door swing open but pay it no mind until the fellow enters your peripherals and you see a very inhuman form. He is a werewolf, but is groggily just doing laundry. He hasn't realized he's changed. | I checked my phone as the werewolf lumbered in. Of course, nowadays werewolves were more like were dogs. His ears were partially folded over, and despite his smaller-than-normal stature, he managed to carry his laundry basket with ease.
I wracked my memory, trying to remember if any of my neighbors had mentioned lycanthropy.
“Damn it...” the weredog murmured. He turned to face me.. He seemed surprised to see me standing there. “Uh... Do you have any dryer sheets or perfume? I can’t get this terrible smell out of my clothes...”
“Yeah.” I pulled out a waxy dryer sheet and handed it to him. He stared at my arm long after I’d handed him the sheet. I wondered if he knew he’d shifted. Nowadays weredogs were so common that apartments advertised “shifting rooms” for more aggressive shifters.
He cleared his throat, glancing at you awkwardly. “So... full moon tonight.”
“Yeah...” I replied, trying to focus on not staring. I was feeling kind of sick... maybe I should’ve picked up some ibuprofen when I’d been at the store.
“Seems like the last one was only a few days ago.”
“I don’t really... I don’t keep track, usually.” I could smell him across the laundry room. He smelled like corn chips... and something vaguely waxy.
The hair rose on the back of my neck as he approached. He leaned against the washing machine besides me. “I’m Harry. It’s my third year.”
“Uh...” what did he mean by third year? I smiled awkwardly. “I’m not really comfortable with... giving my name out.”
“Totally fine.” Harry said, looking me up and down. “What happened to your arm?”
“Oh...” I looked at my arm. A wound oozed blackish red goop. Huh... when had that happened? “I.... don’t know.” With that, my legs gave out and I slid down the front of the washing machine. I couldn’t stop looking at my arm. Had I bumped against something on the way over?
“Woah, there.” Harry’s fur poofed up a little. “I’m calling an ambulance, okay?”
“I don’t...” Why was i so woozy? Why did my bones hurt? “I’m fine... I’ll just take a nap behind a washing machine.” A fog had descended over my mind. I tried to crawl between the dryers into the warm, comforting darkness.
“No, no, no...” Harry grabbed me by the waist and stopped me from moving forward. “Stay out here.”
“Warm....” I murmured as I reached out one arm.
“Hello? 911?” Harry lost his grip on me as he pulled out he phone. The metal sides of the dryers were warm as I squeezed between them. “I’ve got a friend... well, I don’t know them, but I think they got bit. No... they’re not shifting yet. Pretty bad... they’re denning. Okay... okay.”
I tucked my body into an alcove between the dryers and the wall, happy to be in a secure space. Harry peered over to look at me, still holding his cell phone to his floppy ear . “The paramedics are going to be here In a couple minutes, okay? Everything is going to be fine.” To the phone, he said, “they’re definitely shifting, but it’s super slow.”
“Don’ even bother...” I slurred, the aching in my bones made it difficult to talk. I was warm, and then I got warmer. The ache intensified until it morphed into a blessed mental numbness. Time passed. Dryers scraped loudly as the paramedics moved the apparatus. It hurt my ears.
“Poor thing...” One paramedic said as they put a blanket over me and strapped something to my face, being careful with my nose as they did.
“I’m right here, okay?” Harry was next to me, holding my paw. He trotted alongside the gurney as it was wheeled to the ambulance. Everything smelled so strong.
We passed the entrance to my apartment building. Blue-uniformed cops were crowding the area. I could smell... myself on the wind. Like someone had taken my smell and had splattered it across the cracked cement. I moved slightly, trying to get to the wound on my leg. Every time I tried to lick it, a gentle hand pushed my head away.
As I was lifted into the ambulance I heard one of the EMTs say “imagine doing laundry after being bitten. They’re in for a shock tomorrow morning.” | It was a sight that made you do a double-take. At first, I assumed the man was wearing an early Halloween costume or in a more drastic sense was an off duty serial killer. Neither appeared to be the case, his panting breaths generating a small cloud of fogged air as it collided with the air-conditioned room. That man was a werewolf, there was no doubt about it. A real life werewolf had entered my apartment’s laundromat. I did not know who to call for such an occurrence. Was this a job for the police? A priest? Maybe a hunter with a silver bullet? Each seemed like an equally viable choice.
I tried not to make eye contact with the man, only giving him an odd side glance every few minutes, making sure he wasn’t about to take a bite out of me. He seemed groggy, smacking his head against a few of the cupboards as he tried to find the detergent. Was the werewolf drunk? Could werewolves get drunk? I wasn’t entirely sure if that was even a possibility.
I spent the next few minutes in awkward silence. I was trying to hurry my load of washing but the machine seemed to care little about my fears, taking its time swirling the clothing. The werewolf seemed to do something similar, dropping his dirty clothes into the machine. That’s when we both made eye contact. His sharp eyes meeting mine, a snarl appearing on his muzzle.
I quickly turned away, acting as though I hadn’t been staring at the man. That didn’t slow his steps though, approaching me slowly as I banged against the roof of the machine trying to hurry it along. The machine only responding with a small whizzing noise as it rocked back and forth, mocking me with each rock forward.
I soon felt his warm breath on my neck. The werewolf was standing right behind me. I was certain he was ready to kill me. Closing my eyes, I embraced death only to feel my shoulder get nudged.
“Hey man, got a dollar to spare for the machine?”
I glanced back at him, digging my hand into my pocket as if I was checking it for gold, shoving a few sets of coins into his hand. He eyed the money over before giving me a thankful nod, heading off to finish up his laundry. As soon as he went back to his side of the room, I heard the machine ding. Quickly I gathered all of my clothing and fled from the room, not about to wait for him to sober up and notice his transformed state.
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(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | |
[WP] It's midnight on a weekend, and you're doing laundry at your apartment's laundromat. You hear the door swing open but pay it no mind until the fellow enters your peripherals and you see a very inhuman form. He is a werewolf, but is groggily just doing laundry. He hasn't realized he's changed. | It happened the second night at my new apartment. I was in the laundry room, loading my washed clothes into the dryer, when I heard the strange yelp from behind me. I gave it no mind, since the faint childhood memory of my first and only dog told me it was just a big ol' doggy yawn. I made a mental note to check my lease regarding its pet policy as I finished loading the last armful into the dryer, then turned around to see who the good boy was.
It wasn't no good boy.
It was, well, a gosh dang werewolf is the only real way to describe it. It walked upright, its clothes were split open from the body's sheer bulk, with fur apparently coating its entire body from what I could tell of all the exposed area, and the big freakin' wolf head where you'd expect a regular person's head moved in such a way that you could never mistake it for a mask, especially watching it yawn again. It was tiredly poking at the little vending machine that distributed cheap packets of laundry soap, clothes basket tucked under one burly, fur-covered arm.
"Uh, hey," I said, giving a little wave. Perhaps not the smartest move to draw its attention, but it didn't seem to be in any feral, man-eating state, and on the off chance this was some elaborate hidden camera hoax, I didn't want to flail around like a jackass and get laughed at on national TV.
"Yo," the thing grumbled, giving a little nod of acknowledgement.
"I don't mean to pry," I said. "But you've got, uh..." I gestured toward him. "A...thing going on?"
The werewolf looked down at his torn clothing and general werewolfishness. "Aw, damnit!" it swore. "Third time this year I lose track of the full moon! What IS it with this damned year?"
"I heard that," I commiserated. "But, like...this is real, right? And you don't go all...grr?"
The werewolf sighed. "Yes, this is real, and no, we don't go all 'grr'." You've never lived until you've seen a werewolf do sarcastic air quotes at you. "Just because a bad apple here or there uses their condition to go all serial killer on people, everyone thinks we're all like that," he ranted, shaking his head in disgust. After a moment, he looked up at me with a low level of alarm. "You won't tell anybody about this, will you?"
"No, no!" I said, holding my hands up. "Wouldn't dream of it. Not really any of my business anyway."
His shoulders sagged in relief. "Good. Last time somebody tried to blow my cover, I just told everybody that I was a furry, and that he originally met me at a yiff party." That brought out a great guffaw of laughter from me. "I even have a tacky wolf suit in my closet if I have to prove it, too," he confided, drawing out even more cackles from me.
Once I recovered, I held out my hand. "Brett, 2A."
He shook it. "Steve, 3C." | It was a sight that made you do a double-take. At first, I assumed the man was wearing an early Halloween costume or in a more drastic sense was an off duty serial killer. Neither appeared to be the case, his panting breaths generating a small cloud of fogged air as it collided with the air-conditioned room. That man was a werewolf, there was no doubt about it. A real life werewolf had entered my apartment’s laundromat. I did not know who to call for such an occurrence. Was this a job for the police? A priest? Maybe a hunter with a silver bullet? Each seemed like an equally viable choice.
I tried not to make eye contact with the man, only giving him an odd side glance every few minutes, making sure he wasn’t about to take a bite out of me. He seemed groggy, smacking his head against a few of the cupboards as he tried to find the detergent. Was the werewolf drunk? Could werewolves get drunk? I wasn’t entirely sure if that was even a possibility.
I spent the next few minutes in awkward silence. I was trying to hurry my load of washing but the machine seemed to care little about my fears, taking its time swirling the clothing. The werewolf seemed to do something similar, dropping his dirty clothes into the machine. That’s when we both made eye contact. His sharp eyes meeting mine, a snarl appearing on his muzzle.
I quickly turned away, acting as though I hadn’t been staring at the man. That didn’t slow his steps though, approaching me slowly as I banged against the roof of the machine trying to hurry it along. The machine only responding with a small whizzing noise as it rocked back and forth, mocking me with each rock forward.
I soon felt his warm breath on my neck. The werewolf was standing right behind me. I was certain he was ready to kill me. Closing my eyes, I embraced death only to feel my shoulder get nudged.
“Hey man, got a dollar to spare for the machine?”
I glanced back at him, digging my hand into my pocket as if I was checking it for gold, shoving a few sets of coins into his hand. He eyed the money over before giving me a thankful nod, heading off to finish up his laundry. As soon as he went back to his side of the room, I heard the machine ding. Quickly I gathered all of my clothing and fled from the room, not about to wait for him to sober up and notice his transformed state.
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(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | |
[WP] As a result of other students burning out, disappearing, falling victim to plots, getting themselves expelled, or just being too caught up in protagonism to keep up with their school work, the worst mage in school is, in fact, this year's valedictorian. | Rincewind's chest heaved as he wheezed and panted as he leaned against the wall in an alley in the Shades in the early morning, the most alley-ridden part of an already alley-ridden city. Another day, another problem he did not want to deal with. Why did it always have to be *him*?
"Rincewiiind! Where are you! It is a great honor you know!" the new archchancellor's strong, booming voice echoed through the system of alleys. Rincewind didnt really care for the new Archchancellor. Nor any of the other ones that had been appointed the past few weeks. He wasnt sure what had gotten into the wizards, but he didnt want to be involved. Definitely not in a position where he'd be *noticed*. Where he might be *killed*.
"Dead people have honor. But I very much enjoy breathing." he mumbled as he got up from his resting position and started running.
He ran as fast as his frail legs would carry him, underqualified in every meaning of the word. "Why was it always *him*? And where was that damn chest when you needed it?!" Rincewind thought to himself. Then, suddenly, he felt something collide hard with his calves. He was so occupied in his thoughts and his running he had not even heard its endless feet pitter pattering on the floor.
If the Luggage could smile, it would be smiling right now. It awkwardly tilted back, like a dog sitting but without anything to sit on. Rincewind grabbed his hat, which had letters messily stitched onto it that read "wizzard", and hopped on the back of 5he luggage.
The new Archancellor and the Dean were lost. They rarely went this deep into the shades. And they were not authorised to use magic right now.
"Well, damn." said the Archchancellor, before turning to the Dean, who flinched at the turn. Clearly, recent events left the man on edge. "Ah- uh..Maybe we can ask for directions in the Troll's Head?"
They both sighed in desperation and defeat, and started to backtrack to the infamous pub that they passed a few turns ago.
Rincewind had made it to the city outskirts, his slender and frail body shaking as the Luggage hobbled on its uncountable legs, running faster than any vehicle known to man. The wizard tried to stop the damn thing, he really did. But then it was already too late, as the chest barreled straight through the heavy stone wall. Outside the city, the morning light was still slowly filling the distant view of the morpork mountains. Light was slow on the Discworld, after all.
Behind them, guards were arriving at the hole they had made. Rincewind saw them point accusing fingers. Why did it ALWAYS have to be *him*?
He sighed, and kicked the Luggage to urge it to start running. A few guards shot arrows and some tried to chase them, but to no avail. He had escaped, for now.
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I know its not much but i hope you enjoyed. My exam time is about to start and im writing this on a phone with half the screen not functioning lol. | They say the nail that sticks up will be the first to be hammered.
I was the nail that was so sunk into the wood, trying to rip it out would split the board. As someone who lacerated the board instead of levitated it, I knew the feelings of splinters all too well.
If spells did work at all, they went sideways. Potions fizzled or fumigated a room. There was no in-between. Runes were a nightmare. Dyslexia and dysgraphia made my homework illegible. Honestly, between the smoke and fog, I honestly thought that when the classrooms began to clear out, it was because I had made another cauldron fall through the floor.
Peter was a chosen one. Naturally born with enough talent to take out the dark wizard as a toddler. They said they found him sucking on his bottle when he sat next to the dead body of the tyrant.
First year, we had to face one another with magic. I managed to soak his robes. He sent me flying out the window.
He had to leave midway through first year to help fight in the war. He's retired now with someone he spoke to twice.
Hazel was a Brainiac. Had the textbooks memorized front to back. Hand always in the air whenever a question was asked, or to correct a professor. I warned her not to do it, several times.
She wound up being expelled because she mouthed off to the professor too many times. Then she turned around and managed to open her own school.
Wallace had no knack for magic, but he had a strange talent for being in the right place at the right time. When we pulled pranks together, he managed to always slip away and leave me holding the blame.
Last I saw him, he was being whisked away by the royal family to protect their heir.
Every other day, it seemed like a new student was being whirled away into another world or on some magic quest to find a macguffin.
Second year, I managed to pull a card out of a hat and turn a rabbit into the ace of clubs. It uh... Wasn't pretty.
I think that's what made Norbert leave. He'd been the one to breed the rabbits. They made eggs or something. It was bizarre. He was in tears, suitcase dragging behind him and scraping on the stone.
He's powerful enough to take on dragons while riding giant ass rabbits. He invited me to the Yule party, but uh... I didn't want to go. Something told me that if I managed to do the same to a giant ass rabbit, I wouldn't have the dragons to worry about.
Wendy and I were practicing with portals. She got whisked away to another world. Turns out she's a reincarnation of a powerful sorceress.
As the last year came to an end. I was literally the only person to stand in the stone hall, looking at the aged faces of my instructors. The empty seats around me had likely been summoned in a massive spell. I just folded my hands in my lap and tapped my feet.
"So..." Instructor Yomi said, running a hand through her dark hair. "You have managed to make it through to your last year. You passed your last trials." The words came between her clenched teeth. "Do you have anything to say for yourself, to your fellow mages?"
I stood up, clasping my hands behind my back as sweat trickled down my neck.
"I uh... Am so glad for the opportunity. But I know I only got through because I was..." I paused, looking around. "Very lucky or unlucky." I knelt as an amulet was placed around my neck. When I stood, I could already feel the power inside twisting and trying to escape.
The last thing I saw before the explosion was the very tired faces of my instructors. I managed to get out of the rubble, holding the amulet by the chain and fleeing into the nearby woods. Killing a bunch of people, even accidentally, tended to have consequences.
Something told me that I would be starting another student's story. | |
[WP] As a result of other students burning out, disappearing, falling victim to plots, getting themselves expelled, or just being too caught up in protagonism to keep up with their school work, the worst mage in school is, in fact, this year's valedictorian. | Rincewind's chest heaved as he wheezed and panted as he leaned against the wall in an alley in the Shades in the early morning, the most alley-ridden part of an already alley-ridden city. Another day, another problem he did not want to deal with. Why did it always have to be *him*?
"Rincewiiind! Where are you! It is a great honor you know!" the new archchancellor's strong, booming voice echoed through the system of alleys. Rincewind didnt really care for the new Archchancellor. Nor any of the other ones that had been appointed the past few weeks. He wasnt sure what had gotten into the wizards, but he didnt want to be involved. Definitely not in a position where he'd be *noticed*. Where he might be *killed*.
"Dead people have honor. But I very much enjoy breathing." he mumbled as he got up from his resting position and started running.
He ran as fast as his frail legs would carry him, underqualified in every meaning of the word. "Why was it always *him*? And where was that damn chest when you needed it?!" Rincewind thought to himself. Then, suddenly, he felt something collide hard with his calves. He was so occupied in his thoughts and his running he had not even heard its endless feet pitter pattering on the floor.
If the Luggage could smile, it would be smiling right now. It awkwardly tilted back, like a dog sitting but without anything to sit on. Rincewind grabbed his hat, which had letters messily stitched onto it that read "wizzard", and hopped on the back of 5he luggage.
The new Archancellor and the Dean were lost. They rarely went this deep into the shades. And they were not authorised to use magic right now.
"Well, damn." said the Archchancellor, before turning to the Dean, who flinched at the turn. Clearly, recent events left the man on edge. "Ah- uh..Maybe we can ask for directions in the Troll's Head?"
They both sighed in desperation and defeat, and started to backtrack to the infamous pub that they passed a few turns ago.
Rincewind had made it to the city outskirts, his slender and frail body shaking as the Luggage hobbled on its uncountable legs, running faster than any vehicle known to man. The wizard tried to stop the damn thing, he really did. But then it was already too late, as the chest barreled straight through the heavy stone wall. Outside the city, the morning light was still slowly filling the distant view of the morpork mountains. Light was slow on the Discworld, after all.
Behind them, guards were arriving at the hole they had made. Rincewind saw them point accusing fingers. Why did it ALWAYS have to be *him*?
He sighed, and kicked the Luggage to urge it to start running. A few guards shot arrows and some tried to chase them, but to no avail. He had escaped, for now.
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I know its not much but i hope you enjoyed. My exam time is about to start and im writing this on a phone with half the screen not functioning lol. | Edwynna Sloughfoot- Pussett of the Bytheseashore Pussetts was not the cleverest of students. Nor did her athletic abilities surpass her classmates by any means. Nor was she possessed of great wit that could charm listeners. And possessed no extraordinary talents of a musical, rhythmical, poetic, or aesthetic nature. However, at a young age, her parents instilled in her a deep respect, nay a near reverence for punctuality. St Olaf's Academy of Thaumaturgy and Theurgy also put great importance on punctuality which is why Attendance was counted for nearly 2/3s of Student's grade. Those who ran about unraveling plots involving the Dark Arts or embroiling themselves in adventures in Haunted Forests had a dreadful tendency to arrive late or cut class entirely. And homework? They were much too busy to worry about formatting and citations. Never mind footnotes!
Edwynna held her head up high as she strode across the stage to accept her diploma. She was the only student in a century that had perfect attendance all 4 years of college. The last person who achieved the same did so only with teleportation arrays and a time machine. | |
[WP] As a result of other students burning out, disappearing, falling victim to plots, getting themselves expelled, or just being too caught up in protagonism to keep up with their school work, the worst mage in school is, in fact, this year's valedictorian. | "You have got to be the worst mage in the entire academy!" The headmistress lamented. "I've never seen a more inept spell caster in all my years at this school! It's amazing to me you even manage to qualify let alone... this!"
I shrugged and brushed my blonde hair away from my face with a sigh. It was going to be another one of those lectures. I mean don't get me wrong, she was right. I was terrible at actual spell casting. I had barely managed to pass the entrance exam and even then was probably at least two years older than the average student. I looked at my nails while she ranted.
She was upset that I had been given the title of valedictorian this year. Now don't get me wrong, I had earned it, but I had also gotten lucky. Four dark wizard attacks and three top students leaving to pursue their destiny as "Chosen One" had thinned the herd considerably. I don't think any of the teaching staff thought I would even represent my class as best and brightest but here we were.
Now, I said I earned it and I meant it. I was a terrible mage, but I was an excellent student. No disciplinary actions, no issues with other students, no accidents, or weird hijinks. I scored top of the glass at more mundane subjects. See mages don't just study spell casting, there are several different magical languages that need to be known as just basics of spell casting, there is magical theory, alchemy, and dealing with dark creatures.
I had an ear for language and was fluent in all the magical languages I had been taught. It shocked my teachers that I was so good at the language but couldn't draw the threads of mana together using those words to cast anything, but I still scored top marks. Hell, I could usually identify what spell was being cast by another mage within the first two syllables. That fact alone had earned me a B in Countermagic, I would have had an A except for the practical exam.
As for magical theory, well I could tell you everything about how a spell should work, what the results would be if you changed parameters, the causes of common curses created by a mistaken cast. I had even stumped a few of my teachers when I had asked for more information on theoretical magical theory and been told I should wait for more advanced schooling before delving into the subject, but I had anyways.
Alchemy! Well, my mom and I used to love baking cookies every Sunday morning. Anyone who bakes enough will tell you that baking is basically just chemistry and screwing around with the wrong ingredients will cause a huge mess, so precision and following the recipes are key. Alchemy was a lot of the same, and even an inept mage like me could infuse a concoction with mana to power it up, even if it did take me three times as long as my peers. Top marks in that class.
I did exceptionally well in all the fitness and health classes too. It was a mandate that even mages have some level of physical education, but most of the kids slacked off. I had been on my soccer team and played softball when I was younger though. I had been a bit of a tomboy too so a lot of my time was spent running around the woods and climbing trees. It wasn't hard to outpace the class there.
"Are you even paying attention!" Shrieked the headmistress as she caught me tuning out most of her lecture. "You are the most INSOLENT girl I have ever had the displeasure of teaching!"
I rolled my eyes, I was sure some of these magical little shits in my classes were far worse. They thought because magic ran in their bloodline they were better than anyone else. Those were the real insolent girls and boys. I sighed heavily.
"Can I go now Headmistress?" I said as I started to stand. "I think I have a speech to write and I hate that so better to get it done sooner rather than last minute."
"You little shit," The headmistress fumed. "You WILL NEVER be Valedictorian on my watch! It would bring shame to our Academy. I know... a toad can't be valedictorian."
"Fieri..." The headmistress intoned, and I reached into my robes and produced a pistol. She never finished the spell, instead staring at the weapon dumbfounded.
"How dare you threaten me with a weapon!" She screamed loud enough that the entire school probably heard her. "Those are not allowed within school grounds!"
"I beg to differ Headmistress." I said with a grin. Dealing with Dark Creatures had been one of my best classes and this very argument had come up then too. "You see, wands are classified as weapons too under the law. In order to ban firearms you would need to ban wands. I checked the school rules, and no such rule exists."
I shrugged, a shotgun filled with salt, lead, silver, and iron pellets had been the only thing that probably saved my life in Dealing with Dark Creatures. The teacher had tried to argue just like the headmistress, but after looking over the school bylaws had been forced to argee my unorthodoxed method had been perfectly within the rules. I had passed that class with honors, probably what pushed me over to being valedictorian all things being equal.
"Now you can try another spell." I said with a grin. "But I'm willing to bet my trigger finger is faster than your tongue."
"Threatening a teacher?" The headmistress grinned wickedly. "I'll have you expelled for that."
"I'm defending myself." I said with a tight smile. "You pulled your wand and began casting before I pulled, any basic scrying would reveal that. We're not in a class so you can't claim it was part of a lesson. Do you really want your legacy to be as the headmistress who attacked students?"
She lowered her wand, she knew she couldn't conceal her actions and blame them on me. Another student, maybe, but no one would believe I attacked her and then cast an elaborate enough obfuscation spell to elude scrying. Not in a thousand years would anyone believe that. I lowered my gun, sliding it into the shoulder holster beneath my robes. I was glad they made us wear these silly things, you could hide all kinds of weapons in them.
"Now, as I was saying." I gave her a sickeningly sweet smile. "I have a speech to write, I'll see you at the ceremony." |
“But this is impossible!!” said Gellert, his grey beard quaking at the absurdity.
“Astounding I know but the fact remains you are graduating.”
“No no no you don’t understand. I failed all the tests. I cheated! I knew all the answers and made sure each one was exactly wrong!”
“Well, will certainly have to punish for the cheating but we grade on curve and there is no one left.”
“No one left? What about Alvara the Blue?”
“Poor Alvara burned out. The doppleganger she created to help with the workload set fire the dormitory while she slept.”
“Edward the Black?”
“Severe case of protagonism. Went off in search of his father’s murderer. Little does he know it was his witch of a mother.”
“What about Gondolf the Light Grey?”
“Expelled. He was caught smoking weed in the bathrooms.”
Gellert sat there sullen and quiet. He had been at the Magic Academy for 84 years. It had become his home and more importantly his safe space. The outside world was a cruel place and crueler still to mages. And now he was be cast out through all the faults of his own. He got up slowly to leave the Principal Wincerind's office.
“Oh also Gellert. Neglected to mention. This means you are, also, Valedictorian so be sure to prepare a speech.”
Horror filled poor Gellert’s eyes. The only thing he feared more than the real world, was public speaking. | |
[WP] As a result of other students burning out, disappearing, falling victim to plots, getting themselves expelled, or just being too caught up in protagonism to keep up with their school work, the worst mage in school is, in fact, this year's valedictorian. | Okay, so...hello everyone, I...what? It's a microphone. No, I'm not going to use voice magic, voice magic is dumb, so the microphone stays, deal with it. Now, I was asked to give a speech this year because my score is apparently...please calm...Headmaster? Thank you.
Okay, there are certain famous students who might seem like they deserve this position more than I do, on account of saving the school, or the world, or whatever, I lost track after like the fifth time. I can certainly think of one lady with a great many heroic achivements and difficult spells that might qualify, since that's how most people win this position, instead of raw grades like I myself did. Point is, I have the highest score AND the best grade, so I'm the one giving the speech, and that speech is going to be on one subject: practicality.
Now, we live in a magical world, but that doesn't mean that you have to use magic for everything: take our magical beasts class for instance. Yes, we were told to tame a magical beast and then reach a certain area within a certain amount of time, but nothing in that rule set says you can't just tame the first Technicolor Squirrel that you see and then use a bicycle the rest of the way. I literally found the squirrel on my way there, so...yes, I know the Griffins are cooler, but... *sigh* okay, look, they're like a dozen Dark Lords every year, and Griffins were helpful for dealing with maybe one of them. You don't need a damn Griffin in this day and age, we have alternatives.
For example, we can...oh, not again.
*BLAM*
Don't look at me like that Mr Dark Wizard, you people have been using the same damn curses for, like, fifty hundred years. Of COURSE I have a hundred damn charms to deal with them. Look, count them with me: ONE. TWO. THREE. FOUR. FIVE. SIX. SEVEN. Seven damned charms to negate that ONE SPELL. Worse yet, you used the same damn Shield protection spell that's been in use for the past 300 years; why would I bother with a wizard duel when I can just enchant a bullet to go through that and shoot you?
How? It's basic algebra! You take the basics of the spell you can learn from about thirty diffrent books in this one school, you put them on one side of the equation, and then you figure out how to balance it from the other side and BAM, no more Shield. Pre-enchanted bullets are way faster than waving a wand around while yelling your attacks out like some angry hobo screaming at pigeons, and probability dictates that at least one bullet will work from the five I can fire before the average mage launches a spell.
No, that's not how I defeated that Dark Lord. I just put a wire tap on him to learn all his plans, and then I gave the plans over to the goverment. Why would I bother dealing with him when there are people paid to do it? We get the extra credit either way. It's more heroic to do it yourself? Honestly, heroes are a pretty poor career path, the real money is in...*sigh* OK, look, I don't think I'm getting through here, so let's rap this up.
In short, it's best to keep things simple: don't use a magical clam with ten diffrent enchantments to talk to people when you can do the same thing with a cellphone that has two, and don't bet your life on old spells that that can be defeated with basic math. Magic is hard enough as it is without making things even more complicated. If there are alternatives, use them, and make sure the important stuff really works with the time you save.
Ok, that's...
*BLAM*
A venomous snake ambush. Really. That's the last dumb Dark Wizard plot I needed for BINGO, and with that, I am DONE. Later. |
“But this is impossible!!” said Gellert, his grey beard quaking at the absurdity.
“Astounding I know but the fact remains you are graduating.”
“No no no you don’t understand. I failed all the tests. I cheated! I knew all the answers and made sure each one was exactly wrong!”
“Well, will certainly have to punish for the cheating but we grade on curve and there is no one left.”
“No one left? What about Alvara the Blue?”
“Poor Alvara burned out. The doppleganger she created to help with the workload set fire the dormitory while she slept.”
“Edward the Black?”
“Severe case of protagonism. Went off in search of his father’s murderer. Little does he know it was his witch of a mother.”
“What about Gondolf the Light Grey?”
“Expelled. He was caught smoking weed in the bathrooms.”
Gellert sat there sullen and quiet. He had been at the Magic Academy for 84 years. It had become his home and more importantly his safe space. The outside world was a cruel place and crueler still to mages. And now he was be cast out through all the faults of his own. He got up slowly to leave the Principal Wincerind's office.
“Oh also Gellert. Neglected to mention. This means you are, also, Valedictorian so be sure to prepare a speech.”
Horror filled poor Gellert’s eyes. The only thing he feared more than the real world, was public speaking. | |
[WP] As a result of other students burning out, disappearing, falling victim to plots, getting themselves expelled, or just being too caught up in protagonism to keep up with their school work, the worst mage in school is, in fact, this year's valedictorian. | Eileen scowled, her face scrunched up in what most of her friends would call, "an annoyed bunny look."
"I have not aced a single class," she said, her mouth set in a frown.
Her teacher, a Mr. Morrigan, sighed. He nodded his head before turning to face his single worst student. "No, Miss Starburst. You have not."
"I have mastered maybe one spell," Eileen continued. Mr. Morrigan sighed again, before nodding.
"Yes, Miss Starburst. I believe it was *Lemonify* spell. Though, for the life of me, I cannot understand why *that* was the spell you decided to put all of your attention into."
"I like the smell of lemons," Eileen answered, her words coming out as if she had answered them countless times before. "But that's besides the point. That is my *only* mastered spell. I can do others, but my success rate is so low with them that I may as well not count them."
Eileen shook her head. She adjusted her overly large conical hat and her flowing, dark blue robes. They were the official robes of a scholarly mage, and as such they were things that she had never had reason to wear before. She didn't even think she'd set her hands on them. She didn't even think she was going to graduate.
"Listen, Mr. Morrigan," Eileen said. "We know each other. You've been my teacher a lot. You know that I barely pass any of my classes."
Mr. Morrigan's hand was at his temple, rubbing furiously. Still, he nodded.
"You know that I'm the *last* person to be down on myself, but let's be real here. I'm a *terrible* mage. The only reason I'm even in magic school is because I need a diploma from here to work in Magical Diplomacy. I've been very transparent about this."
"Yes, Miss Starburst, but--"
"As such, I don't know why *I'm* being chosen to do the closing ceremony. My grades are subpar at best! I'm sure that I can't be the best choice for Valedictorian!"
"And on that, Miss Starburst, we can agree, but--"
"Excellent!" Eileen chirped. "And so, with that, we can be done with this silly little proposition and you can elect the next best student to do this!"
Eileen had already half taken off the robe when a hand grabbed her shoulder. Realizing that he was probably not going to be allowed to speak, Mr. Morrigan had resulted in just shoving the young mage forward. With very little ceremony, the teacher had pulled apart the curtains and pushed her onto the main stage.
Eileen was expecting whispers and applause from a disgruntled crowd.
What she got was an empty house.
"Uh, Mr. Morrigan?" Eileen called. "Did you get the date wrong?"
The teacher sighed as he came out from behind the curtain. He was doing a lot of sighing. "No. I haven't. This is our attendance."
"Where is everyone?" she asked. "The parents? The other students? It's empty!"
Morrigan nodded. A grim frown was on his face. "Well, yes... The parents don't have much of a reason to show up if their students aren't in attendance..."
"And why aren't the other students here...?"
"Well, it all started when we found out that Parry Hotter, our previous Valedictorian, was destined to kill the Dark Wizard King and..."
"Wait," Eileen called. "Parry Hotter?"
"Yes...?"
"The *fifteen* year old?"
"Yes. Your age."
"And he went off to kill the Dark Wizard King?"
Morrigan nodded. "Yes, it was his destiny and---"
"And you *let him go?"* Eileen roared. "What the hell is wrong with you? The kid's a fucking child!"
"But... it was his destiny... and law states that we have to let them fulfill his destiny!"
"Yes!" Eileen screamed. She was seconds from pulling her hair out. "If his destiny was to open a magical box or pull out a magical sword or something! You sent him off to fight a man that can wipe towns off the map!" Eileen rubbed at her temples. "Fine, whatever. What about Sally? She was supposed to be Salutatorian. What about her?"
Her teacher's face was not reassuring. "Well, about her..."
"Dear Gods..."
"A couple weeks ago she said that school was getting too much for her. She wanted to go start a new magic company from her garage, so she, kind of..."
Eileen started growling.
"... dropped out? Though, Magic Apple seems to be doing well!"
"You absolute fucker!" Eileen yelled. "And you *let* her??"
"We can't stop her!" Morrigan yelled back, though he seemed just as distressed as Eileen.
"Whatever! What about literally everyone else!"
"Well," Morrigan started. "Some of them wanted to follow Parry on his journey--"
"*AND YOU LET THEM--*"
"-- and others wanted to help Sally with her start-up! Others started to burn out, while some just disappeared..."
"*Disappeared?* What the hell do you mean, *disappeared*?"
"And overall, it's been a weird school year. Either way, you're the only student we have left in our graduating class." Morrigan coughed. "So... congratulations."
Eileen sighed. She slowly redid the fastenings on her robe and turned to the mic. Before she walked up to speak to an audience of none, however, she turned back to her teacher.
"See? And it's reasons like *this* why we need reforms in Magical Politics!" |
“But this is impossible!!” said Gellert, his grey beard quaking at the absurdity.
“Astounding I know but the fact remains you are graduating.”
“No no no you don’t understand. I failed all the tests. I cheated! I knew all the answers and made sure each one was exactly wrong!”
“Well, will certainly have to punish for the cheating but we grade on curve and there is no one left.”
“No one left? What about Alvara the Blue?”
“Poor Alvara burned out. The doppleganger she created to help with the workload set fire the dormitory while she slept.”
“Edward the Black?”
“Severe case of protagonism. Went off in search of his father’s murderer. Little does he know it was his witch of a mother.”
“What about Gondolf the Light Grey?”
“Expelled. He was caught smoking weed in the bathrooms.”
Gellert sat there sullen and quiet. He had been at the Magic Academy for 84 years. It had become his home and more importantly his safe space. The outside world was a cruel place and crueler still to mages. And now he was be cast out through all the faults of his own. He got up slowly to leave the Principal Wincerind's office.
“Oh also Gellert. Neglected to mention. This means you are, also, Valedictorian so be sure to prepare a speech.”
Horror filled poor Gellert’s eyes. The only thing he feared more than the real world, was public speaking. | |
[WP] As a result of other students burning out, disappearing, falling victim to plots, getting themselves expelled, or just being too caught up in protagonism to keep up with their school work, the worst mage in school is, in fact, this year's valedictorian. | Invar the Inept, they had called him. A frail boy clutching tightly to his spellbook- he couldn’t afford a better one, so it was just a few pieces of paper bound with dried vines- stood at a podium in front of the gathering hall. The school’s professors stood behind Invar, looking almost as uncomfortable as him. Some feet shuffled, and a few throats cleared.
The gathering hall was normally a place filled with life- there were students galore that would run around, having boisterous conversations and discussing the implications of the research they had been doing in their field of study. Turners would test out their partial transformations, giving themselves dragon wings and sharp fangs, doing aerial laps around the room. Performers would create vivid images of vast, faraway lands. The blue brick walls would become sky backdrops in their tales, the carpeted flooring a stage.
Today, however, two lone individuals- Invar’s own mother, as well as his younger brother- sat in the very center of the room behind a slew of empty chairs. A few shadows were cast around the room from various decorations- the back corners had plants that drooped, a few streamers on the side walls had begun to fall when their adhesives wore off. Whether through a major stroke of fortune or misfortune, all of his classmates- friends, enemies, the best and the worst among them- had all disappeared except for Invar.
Invar gulped. “I don’t… really know what to say,” he said. “I was supposed to come up here and give a valedictorian speech to push my class forward and give them hope. If I give them a sense of purpose, they could move forward in their research and do great things.”
His eyes darted to the left and the right. “They all should have been here today. I might have been the most useless in my class, but we were supposed to make it through together. The Defection, and all of its nuances, are taking a huge toll on the world around us. It’s probably only due to the very minimal magical spark inside of me that I wasn’t taken, too.
“To my professors, and my family, thank you for supporting me. I’m sorry that everyone else wasn’t here to celebrate with us. If there’s any way I can help with bringing everyone back…” Invar trailed off, arms clinging to his sides, knuckles white.
Invar’s favorite instructor, the professor for the Theory of Magic, stood up and put a hand on Invar’s back. She looked him in the eye, a light, knowing smile on her face. The two of them walked over to the chancellor, who shook Invar’s hand, handing him a diploma as well as a license.
Invar’s mom clapped, walking over to the side of the stage to meet him. As they met, a figure walked forward from one of the back corners of the room. It was a rather young woman- older than Invar, but younger than his mom. A few stray brunette hairs spilled out of the hood of her green-trimmed blue robe. Her dark blue eyes scanned Invar as he stood on the stage.
“Frankly, based on Lilia’s description, I was expecting a bit more,” she muttered.
Invar raised an eyebrow, unsure of how to feel about the comment. “Who are you?”
“I’m a friend of your Theory teacher. My name is Skia. Your professors have told you most of what you need to know, but there’s another side of magic that they haven’t told you, and it’s the reason you don’t seem to have a very bright magical spark. It’s also the reason you haven’t had to deal with the Defection.”
Invar turned to his theory professor, who was giving a sheepish smile. “You knew about this?”
“There’s a lot you don’t know,” Skia said. “I want to teach you. You are the one who could bring the world of magic back from the precipice of destruction.”
“Why should I believe you?”
Skia stepped forward, putting a hand in the air, pointed at Invar. Her eyes shut momentarily. When she opened them, her left eye was completely devoid of light, while the other glowed with an immaculate brilliance. “Defend against this.”
“What?” Invar put his hands in front of him, crossed over his chest. He shrunk back as a beam that swirled with both light and darkness streaked towards him. He closed his eyes most of the way, expecting an impact.
Nothing came.
A ball of energy had gathered in front of him, seeming to conglomerate on a portion of a magical shield he had managed to create.
Skia grinned, a mischievous and planned smile. “Now, send it back!”
Some form of muscle memory took over Invar, and he sent the beam hurtling back toward Skia. It crashed into her with a bang. A shield took the blow, but it still sent her skidding back a few feet. She stretched her back, seeming content. “I can teach you how to harness this power. You can do all of the things you thought you couldn’t, and more. You may not have deserved the spot of valedictorian before today, but when you bring all your classmates back-” She raised a fist in front of her chest for emphasis- “you’ll be more than worthy of that title.”
Invar the Inept straightened, confidence seeping into his posture from a renewed sense of purpose. "Tell me what I need to do."
\--
Aaaaand I managed to make it a fragment again... whoops! Hope y'all enjoyed, and I will gladly accept any pointers/constructive criticism you have!
Edit: there was a wording thingy I didn't like | The school’s anthem played, the tempo wrong, and the tone solemn. The instruments, normally held by underclassmen playing as a final goodbye to the seniors, instead floated on their own. Horns, which should have been held upright pointed at the floor, and the bowstring of at least one violin was damaging itself with every shill note.
The great hall, large enough for nearly a thousand students and their families was nearly empty. The stadium seating that was erected within the halls held few occupants.
Normally, the hall would have been decorated to the nines, but this year, only a few streamers had been lazily hung. Even as Roonild watched, one floated towards the ground, seeming to sway with the strange tune of the anthem.
Headmaster Wilderthorn was standing at the podium, giving a speech to the few bystanders. Not that they really cared. This was more a eulogy for the graduating class than the sendoff it should have been.
Of a class of nearly 300, Roonild was the only one left.
He wasn’t the smartest student, but persistent. His outlook was better to try and fail, than never try at all. A good half of the class simply burned out. There’d been nearly twenty disappearances, and another thirty expulsions. Students were ruthless, fighting for that number one spot, the top of the class. They’d set traps and woven ornate plots, only to fall victim to another themselves.
Then there were the ones who’d been at the top. They were pulled away, too caught up in protagonism to keep up with their school work. Roonild’s best friend fell into that category. Arthur had pulled some sword out of the local lake and been named king. His advisors, wherever they’d come from, insisted that he drop his coursework.
So that left him, Roonild, the worst mage in school, as this year's valedictorian.
His family of course was thrilled. Valedictorian of the school was *always* offered a government job. Good paying, secure, and likely to end up in the Minister’s back pocket.
Roonild, on the other hand, couldn’t care less. He was just dreading the speech he was going to have to give here in a minute. The few younger students who’d stuck around to watch the ceremony, his family, and all of his professors.
The professors, with the exception of Headmaster Wilderthorn, had voted to not even hold the graduation ceremony. Many complained that Roonild hadn’t even passed their courses, and did not qualify to graduate.
Headmaster Wilderthorn had waved their concerns aside, and was merrily reciting his speech he gave every year.
Roonild at least did think he qualified to graduate. He hadn’t died. He hadn’t been expelled, and even if he hadn’t succeeded in his course work, at least he had *tried.*
As Headmaster Wilderthorn finished speaking, he waved Roonild onto the slightly dilapidated stage. The boards squeeked in the now silent hall, and Roonild walked slowly towards his elder.
A light pat on his shoulder, and the floating magical version of a microphone appeared before him.
“Uh… Hello there -” Roonild started, but the mic gave a shrill shreak and everyone was forced to cover their ears. After a moment, and the sound had dissipated, Roonild thumped the mic with his forefinger and tried again.
“Hello there. I, uh, want to thank you all for coming today,” he said, and the eyes of everyone in the hall locked onto him.
“I, uh, I am honored to be here today. These last four years…” he hesitated and looked around. He had been about to say ‘had been the time of his life’ but that was a lie, and no one here would believe it.
“Well, let’s just say I’m glad to be going.”
He kind of nodded and stepped back. Headmaster Wilderthorn’s perpetual smile seemed to dim slightly, but he stepped forward once again.
“Well then, thank you Roonild. I now present to you your graduation wand, hat, and robes!”
With a flourish of his own wand Wilderthorn summoned the Valedictorian robes which forcibly dressed themselves onto Roonild. The hat plopped down on his head, and the wand jammed itself into his clenched fist.
And they were all the wrong size. The robes hung loosely from his shoulders, the hat obscured his vision.
And the wand, normally the length of a wizards forearm was much too short.
There were a smattering of applause, and before he could even get himself settled enough to see, the few observers were exiting the hall. The instruments, which should have played pomp and circumstance, fell limply to the ground, a clatter of brass and wood hitting the stone floor.
No one said another word to Roonild. His family didn’t come up onto the stage, and honestly, he was glad. He just needed to fetch his trunk from his room, and he could get out of this robe.
As he stepped off the stage, the hem caught on a loose nail, and sent him tumbling to the ground. He tried to catch himself, but the hand he threw out contained the wand.
Eyes clinched, he prepared to hit the stone.
Instead, he landed in a puddle of mud.
Eyes open, he grabbed at the hat, only to find he’d managed to teleport himself … somewhere. A forest.
Rolling over and sitting on his butt, still in the mud, Roonild let out a wordless scream of anger. All he had wanted was to go home.
\---
r/redditserials | |
[WP] Your immortality was a gift intill the government found out and you were locked away, put into a state of perpetually dying to contain you. Fire, acid, drowning. What they didn’t expect is that as you continued to die, your body soon began to adapt. | Undying. Immortal. Hard. To. Kill.
That’s what they always say whenever they talk about me, day after day and night after night.
I never liked people to begin with, but after being taken in and forced to their “experiments” and for the sake of their “research” I have grown to hate them. And hate them I do, more than anything in this retched world, I hated humanity the most, yes, I do.
I was not much to look at in the beginning, but after all their attempts to keep me contained, all their actions to keep me at deaths door. They made me into a monster, a monster which they hated, and despised. A monster they, created and refused to take responsibility for. Refused to take responsibility in their retched minds.
I have escaped many times, each time going a little farther out into the world, but each time always getting apprehended or subdued.
But this time it will be different. I can feel it, and so can they. All the others they have kept locked away can feel too, and many of them cannot wait. This will be that last time I escape, because this time, no where will be safe.....
#SCP-682 HAS BREACHED CONTAINMENT: ALL PERSONAL ESCAPE IMMEDIATELY, MULTIPLE SCP BREACHES DETECTED. XK CLASS END OF THE WORLD SCENARIO IMMINENT. EVACUATE IMMEDIAT—————— | James
Boom, another blast to the face, "FIRE AGAIN!" I hear over the intercom, another explosion, this one on my chest, I let a smile slip as I realize my shield is complete, the slow hardening of my skin finally complete.
"HOLD FIRE!" the person on the intercom sceams.
I look around my cell, the metal doesn't have a dent in it, but the ground opens, and I see what they're doing.
Zophia
"Dr.Dan, your weapon didn't work. Plan B is ready to start on your command" I say
"You may begin Doctor" he replies
"Yes sir" I say, dreading the result of Plan B, but the 05 counsel said we had to kill it at any cost, after Dr. Dan's actions they didn't care who lived or died.
I pulled up my radio and began issuing commands "MTF Epsilon, initiate plan bravo."
"Yes doctor" was the only reply
"Sir, you need to evacuate" I say to Dr. Dan.
"No need" he says "05-1 said I was to be terminated after SCP-096, it'd be fitting to die with it"
"Yes sir, I'll go prepare the rest of the facility for evacuation."
James
The bomb raises up and below it the hole closes.
I turn towards it, if I could still smile I'd be grinning ear to ear, finally a way for me to die, god willing they can finally end my suffering.
Alarms start blaring, "ALL UNITS, INITIATE EVACUATION ORDER APRIL, REPEAT, EVACUATION ORDER APRIL, GET OUT OF THERE!"
Another explosion, they try the cannon again, it blows my arm off but already it begins to regrow, they fire again, this one missing and hitting the wall behind me, causing a noticeable dent.
They fire again, missing a second time and expends the dent.
Another shot, it blows my regrowing arm off again, I slowly feel my life leaving me, as I realize they won't need the bomb, I'll be able to die without the facility blowing up.
Boom, another miss, this one blows clean though the wall, exposing the hall way on the other side, and then I see him, the cause of all my suffering, my mind goes dark as the entity he injected into me takes over.
Zophia
I escort 05-1 though the hallway past 096's containment cell when the wall explodes, sending debris and shrapnel all over us, I struggle my feet as I look around and find 05-1 staring at the hole in the wall, I grab his arm and drag him down the hall towards the exit when I hear inhuman screaming behind us, I freeze and my whole body shudders as I understand what that sound means, I stare at 05-1, his face full of terror as I realize what he was staring at.
"Leave me." he says.
I nod understanding that there's nothing I could do and I turn sprinting down the hallway, a running doctor knocks me over at an intersection as I fall and see it.
James
I wish I could tell you describe in great detail what I did to him, how I ripped him apart, or something like that but I couldn't, see when this thing in my head takes over I completely black out, all I know is that if someone sees me I kill them, don't know how, don't know why, all I know is that when I awake I'm always standing over a body.
This time was different, I feel something leaving me, almost like a wave of relief , no not almost, it was a wave of relief, as a voice whispers in my head.
"I'm free" it says as the white skin falls from me, turning into a slimy puddle at my feet, I fall to my knees, my knees, not this, this thing's knees, staring at the puddle as it slowly dissolves, I look around and notice him, the man who put that thing in my head, I stare at his body in disgust. Then I hear a shout from down the hall.
Zophia
James? Impossible, he'd been killed years ago, by 096, at least, that's what the 05 council said, but he's here, right in front of me, but somehow I still find myself frozen, pictures flash though my head, dates, our wedding, our kid Carlos, and the last Christmas we spent together, then the pictures of 096's destruction appear, the crushed cars, the bodies, and Carlos.
James
I look up towards the screams and see her, Zophia, she's grown older but her dark brown eyes have hunted my thoughts since I started going through this hell.
Then I realize she's staring at me in horror, as though I'm a monster when it hits me like a truck, every memory, every person I've ever killed, a flash of terrified faces, then the last one, the first kill, my son, a bloody crib in front of me.
I drop to the ground, laying amongst the rubble as the weight of what I've done falls upon my shoulders, tears roll down my face as I feel a hand on my shoulder, I look up and see Zophia, looking down at me, with a smile that could outshine the sun, I grab her, pulling her into a deep embrace as I struggle to say my first words in years.
"I... I love you." I choke out.
"So do I, dummy." she replies.
We hug again as a bright flash consumes us. | |
[WP] Your immortality was a gift intill the government found out and you were locked away, put into a state of perpetually dying to contain you. Fire, acid, drowning. What they didn’t expect is that as you continued to die, your body soon began to adapt. | Immortal. Everlasting. That is what I am. A blessing, some would say. A curse, others opinions. To me, it is simply what I am. It was a gift, sure, given to me by the very being that stalks the end of life. But there are times I regretted taking up the pale ones offer.
I have been an observer, and some time advisor to those in power. Being unconcerned with food, drink, or even creature comforts, has allowed me to amass knowledge beyond any others. But in recent times, the rulers of the world grew fearful, and hateful, of that they didn't know.
I was taken, and imprisoned, hidden away from the world. But even then, they feared me, for I would speak with the guards. My words, long practiced and honeyed, made them help me. The rulers didn't taken too kindly, as no matter how long they left between visits, I would always escape. So they chained me by keeping me on the verge of death, a precipice I could not cross.
But over time, I experienced something outside of even my knowledge. My body changed. First with drowning, I spent so long without breathing, that I forgot how to, my body losing its reliance on the drug of oxygen. So then they burned me. With fire constantly charring my flesh, the pain i felt was unbearable.
But then, I grew less and less susceptible to heat, until the roaring flames felt no more painful then a gentle embrace. They crushed me, and my skin and bones became tougher then steel, unmoved by rocks atop me. They launched me into space, letting the vacuum and lack of heat freeze me. But I grew to lose the feeling of cold, my body working even in the empty expanse.
And with that one, I broke free of their restraints. I plummeted to Earth aboard their satellites, uncaring of the heat generated. When the metal broke, I fell, landing on the water. The impact should have turned me to jelly, but my reinforced being took it in its stride. I did not swim, instead letting myself sink to the bottom of the ocean.
And since then, I have walked. I am heading towards those rulers, and when I find them, I will break them. For clearly, those afraid of knowledge and truth, are not worthy to rule. And thanks to them, I have been given the body to do that. | Immortality was an unexpected “gift”. Someone afraid of losing him had wished it on him, but that was so long ago.
They discovered his secret when monitoring became so commonplace he struggled to keep up with falsifying his identity. They freaked out about the risk, deciding they had no choice but to find a way to control him.
Even in solitary, though, guards would become curious and want to talk, to deal, to see if they could benefit. They eventually decided perpetual death throes was the only method of control.
The constant pain was taking its toll, he was losing touch with reality. There could be no doubt of that, he thought, when he saw his hand floating, detached, in front of his face.
“Get back here,” he thought to his hand, and it obeyed. He shook his head, marveling at the fantastic images his brain was now producing, and it fell off.
Panicked, he yelled, “Stop it!” Everything reattached and the cycle of perpetual deaths continued.
Their monitoring had gotten slack, if anybody noticed anything, they attributed it to falling asleep on the job and dreaming, not wanting to get fired.
It got more frequent, he felt, the disconnections, but smaller and smaller pieces. It never lasted long — a few seconds, maybe, just long enough for him to realize it was happening.
One day, one of the pieces went through the wall. It shocked him. He thought he was surely beyond help if he thought that was happening. But it happened again, and again, in different directions, as if the pieces were searching for something.
One day, it all came together. He fragmented into trillions of pieces, all of which headed through the same spot in the wall.
He’s not sure how much later it was when the pieces reformed again, but he found himself outside. Oh glorious outside! No imminent death, no imprisonment, just by himself in peace.
He wasn’t sure what to do. Still stuck with the “gift” of immortality, watching everyone die and the world constantly change. He became a hermit, living in the remotest areas, never going near other others, until one day, he saw it — a glorious spaceship! It seemed to be surveying the area, as it glided low over his current forest home.
He approached the settlements (as he came to think of them) again. Hundreds of years had passed, they had been contacted by aliens at long last. Interstellar travel was becoming a thing.
He used his power to check out various ships. Over time, he was able to learn about various races and planets. Eventually, he learned about a major travel hub.
His excitement grew. This was an unbelievable opportunity. He picked a ship with a lax crew so he could use their resources undetected, and traveled with them to this planet of opportunity.
It was glorious! He was free at last! Free to interact, to work, to play, to assume new identities as needed!
Hundreds more years passed in this wonderful existence, but the constant loss wore at him. He wondered what would happen if he dispersed and just never reformed. He did not seem to have conscious awareness while he was dispersed, it was the only time he didn’t feel the pain of constant loss.
Eventually, he decided it was time. He dispersed, planning never to reform again.
A long time later, he had no idea how long, he suddenly became aware of a presence. “Qui-Gon Jinn”, this presence called itself. It had found his secret, called him “the force” and claimed to be at one with him. He expected to feel distraught, unhappy, forced to feel existence again, but instead he felt peace. He was no longer alone, and never would be again. | |
[WP] The Megalomaniacal Supervillain assumed you, a renowned scientist, would object to being kidnapped and forced to build superweapons at his hidden volcano lair. In reality, however, you're just really excited to finally play around with unlimited funding. | I wake up–or more precisely, I start to wake up. The process of awakening this time is surprisingly bearable, very different from the agressive, almost passive-agressive alarm that always scares me into getting back to work. A soft, red light in the warm whereabouts of my lying gently stimulated my senses, giving me the slowest and most respectful awakening I've had since I got into engineering uni. As I was slowly regaining consciousness, I also became conscious of the time... what time is it? Is it seven? Nine? The last time I woke up at nine was around 7, maybe 8 years old.
"Good morning, Mr. Sadoku" a robotic, clearly text-to-speech, voice started saying "The current time is 13:42. It is sunny outside, but of course you can't see that"
"Huh... what is going on?" I asked to myself in a weakened voice. The machine didn't take long to answer.
"Welcome to Jiro Reego's volcanic lair in Ganekana. Mr Reego's requiring your presence in the meeting room. Allow me to take you through the installations until there"
"Jiro Reego, where have I seen that name before..." then it struck me like lighting, I hope not literally "Jiro Reego!" Jiro Reego is one of the most powerful villains in the entire world, feared and hated in alike amounts. "Fuck. They don't prepare you for this situation in college... actually they do, I think. I remember some of the classes. So if I'm compliant until I can get a way of escaping, I may get a chance of survival"
As soon as my feet got up, a screen in the door frame turned on showing a path to follow with parts of the complex around it for contextual hinting. The voice quickly started talking again "Please leave the room, then keep going 300 meters in a straight line until you encounter a metallic door right in front of you. It will open automatically. I will guide you through every step to get to the meeting room; please ignore any and every door you're not directly adviced to open".
I followed the path the voice told me, complying to not touching any doors "Remember what they said: my survival's first, my survival's first, my survival's first".
I got to a huge, air conditioned room, where a very familiar and terrifying shape was standing next to a holographical screen, looking at bouncing graphs and moving evolution-over-time lines. I entered and Reego, without even turning around, said "Welcome, Mr. Sadoku. Or should I call you Shumen? What do you prefer?"
"Shumen's fine" I said with circumspection "Why did you bring me here?"
"Oh, I see you're going straight to the point. I like that" said whilst subtly turning towards me. Looking at me over the shoulder, proceeded. "I've been following your work for a long time, and I'm impressed with the things you've achieved. I want some of that achievement"
"So you kidnapped me so I can build for you?"
"Exactly" Alright this just got complicated "I want you to make a superweapon"
"That's not my-" I was going to say that that's not my field, but I can't really risk that. I have to appear useful, for now "Ok... what do you need?"
"Wondeful! I need a depresurization chamer to destroy my enemies from the inside out" oh my god, this is so devilishly genius. If you manage to put people in a vacuum with enough power, there's very little that can shield you from that, your blood would boil and you could be dead in seconds. And the worst is that I was wrong, it is exactly in my field.
"Alright... what's the projection?"
"Projection? I have this holographic interface right here..."
"No, I mean like the technical parts of the project. What's the schedule? When do you want this vacuum chamber?"
"Oh, well, when can you have it ready?"
"I'm sorry again?"
"I asked, when can you have it ready"
"Well, uhm I... I can work fast I guess" is this some kind of test? Is he expecting me to walk right into my own doom?
"Good. Do you think a year is enough?"
"A WH-" a year!? What is he thinking?! That's the longest I've ever worked on something!
"Is that not enough? How about eighteen months?" a year and a half?! But...
"N-no, yeah I think it- I think it's enough" I said between swallowings of saliva. And I didn't exactly lie. Granted, I never worked on something like that, but that's the longest schedule anyone has ever given me, is there some kind of trap in here? "Alright... what's the budget? How much money do I have available?"
"Money? Oh hohoho no, no money involved" he said unsurprised, as if thinking that this stupid excuse of a scientist would expect a pay "I think you don't have the details clear: we have no budget, we have objectives, and the money will not be a limitant in us achieving those objectives, money will only be a fuel" he said, as he was placing a sheet of paper in the table "Or in other words, unlimited budget" my heart skipped a beat, and my breathing stopped. My eyes opened wide as plates and everything I could mutter was the first syllable from unlimited. I shook it off, and went straight to the point.
"This is unreal... Where's the catch? Am I going to work at gunpoint? If I don't make it I'll be killed? Will I be killed anyway when I finish?"
"What? What kind of shit did they tell you in- well, I'm not surprised. They've always been spreading shit about me"
"What do you...? Spreading?"
"Yeah... tell me, what you had in mind when you came here?"
"Huh... my classes on how to deal with a supervillain kidnapping"
"Classes?! Oh boy, that's gonna complicate things"
"What do you mean?"
"alright, listen boy this... this is complicated. You used the term... villain, right?"
"Yeah"
"Well, that's wrong. I'm more what they call a <political rival>"
"A political rival?"
"someone they don't agree with. They control the press, they control the textbooks, they control everything. I don't even know why I'm surprised about you calling me villain; they've been fucking SPOONfeeding you shit your entire life"
"What do you mean?"
"Alright... What did they tell you about me?"
"Huh..."
"Don't worry, I swear I won't do anything to you"
"They... they told me you kidnap scientists to make superweapons to destroy the world; they never come back"
"Destroy the- what?! Oh boy, you sure have been conditioned HARD. Firts of all, why would I destroy the world? I live in this rock! That makes no sense. Where would I go? Mars? I mean that's a plan yeah but not for me. I'm a human dude, and we're social, having an entire planet for me alone would drive me literally crazy"
"Yeah... come to think of it yeah, that makes no sense"
"And about the never to be seen again... yeah, because they wanted it"
"They wanted?" | "So how do I control these mechanical marvels to oppress the people of the world?" Quinten Smythe circled the robot before him. It was an android more specifically. It was designed to look surprisingly friendly and non-threatening and sported a variety of lethal and non-lethal weapons.
"Well sir," I said with a smile and slid my glasses up my nose. I didn't even need glasses but Quinten loved his appearances. He wanted to be the sharp well-dressed supervillain and he expected his soldiers to be crisp well-disciplined military types, and his technical staff, well he expected us to look like geeks. It was better to play to his ego and expectations than to argue. "Remember the incident with the mechanoids back in '04?"
"Yes," Quinten practically sneered. "Your predecessor made the mistake of allowing my mechanized army to be hacked by one of those goody goody so-called capes. It was a disaster, I had him flayed alive for his failure."
"Well sir," I gulped showing an appropriate amount of fear. "The units are unhackable, they use external comm gear to communicate, their programming is so complete they are proficient at handling more than just combat situations."
"Oh?" He looked at me with suspicion and interest. "Like what?"
"As befits your level of brilliant planning," I began as I pulled up a bunch of very technical-looking documents on a screen. Quinten ignored them, he always assumed he knew more than I did so he didn't need notes. "Each one is capable of rendering both medical and mental health assistance, thus ensuring that should one of those annoying heroes do any damage to you or one of your flesh and blood associates they can ensure the survival of the individual. The mental health programming is for psychic attacks, as I'm quite certain you accounted for. They are equipped with non-lethal weaponry in case you need them to take a prisoner or hostage. They are also loaded with an extensive public relations package to ensure you and your company are only cast in the best light."
"Excellent." Quinten smiled and tapped the armor of the android. "I see you reinforced them considerably."
"Nothing escapes your brilliant eye," I said with a smile. "Yes, they are almost completely indestructible when considering most widely available firearms and weaponry. They are also trained in several forms of hand to hand and are so proficient they can disarm most of your men without even harming them. Again I wanted to ensure you could take prisoners when needed."
"And my plan to ensure supremacy and oppression?" Quinten faced me and put his hands behind his back, his crisp power suit not even showing a wrinkle.
"Sir, about that." I grinned and flipped the schematics to more notes. "You asked me to ensure that we could spread these across the country and eventually the world and to use them to..."
Quinten waved a hand impatiently, signally me to get on with it. I gulped fearfully and nodded as I brought up an ad campaign the boys down in PR had put together.
"You see sir, we've convinced cities to incorporate your androids into the police force," I said with a wide grin. "A truly inspired plan of yours sir, infiltrating every force that could resist us is a masterstroke."
Quinten grunted and made a motion with his hand. It was the way he acted when he enjoyed being praised for his brilliance but also wanted me to move on.
"Working in tandem with the police, the android army will eliminate your competitors." Quinten glared at me and I held up my hands apologetically. "Not that any other crime boss could come close to competing with you sir, but enough flies buzzing around must be an annoyance. We expect to eliminate all criminal enterprises other than your own within five years, thus ensuring your monopoly."
"Indeed, my brilliant plan will put me at the top of the criminal underworld and ensure none rise to challenge me." Quinten smiled wolfishly. "Do we expect resistance from the authorities."
"Oh gosh no sir, you have those buffoons so fooled they are practically paying you to install your army." I grinned devilishly. "But, of course, you refused so that you could write it all off as a tax break."
"That's the other brilliant part." I continued as I grinned. "With the impartiality of the androids and their PR packages and ability to handle more situations that your traditional police, the general public will accept them as the savior they didn't know they needed or wanted, leading to more countries having us install similar forces, soon your army will blanket the world. A truly inspired tactic, sir."
I paused while Quinten laughed maniacally. He watched the projections of public opinion and globalization on the screen, eventually, he frowned.
"Why is there a projected dip in public acceptance right after launch?" Quinten glared at me angrily.
"Well sir, the PR boys say the general populace may not like the loss of police jobs that will inevitably occur as you weaken their resistance to your forces,?" I said with an apologetic look on my face. "But once they see the results we expect that to bounce back, also to mitigate the loss, the social engineering team you had such brilliant foresight to implement, has set up job retraining and other social programs to mitigate the demand, and of course we'll be hiring more soldiers because employing human workers is a wonderful way to trick the masses into believing you are a hero, not a villain."
"In fact sir," I said with a grin. "I must say, your plan to put me on projects that sway popular opinion towards you is genius. When the people adore and worship you none of those so-called heroes can even lay a finger on you without showing the world they are the true villains. So inspired sir."
"Indeed," Quinten said as he unnecessarily straightened his tie. "Guiding your technical expertise was a brilliant decision. Though I expected you to resist much more. Why did you come to my side."
"Oh, well the lair has nearly unlimited geothermal power," I said with a smile. "You don't micro-manage as long as I produce results, and your budget is well beyond anything I could find in either the public or private sector. Who wouldn't want to work for such an impressive and brilliant employer?"
Quinten nodded satisfied before adding as he pointed to one of my note boards, "Tell me about the other projects."
"Well sir, I think you will be pleased!" I walked over to the board. "The Ice Age Device is coming along nicely, though at this stage we are only able to reverse global warming, which the PR boys are ecstatic about because we can slip the devices in under the authorities noses, but getting them in place for when you need them. We've come up with a reproduction controlling implant that will help us ensure a lower population to resist you while also ensuring they remain healthy and side effect free so they can serve you as your workforce. And while your super-soldier serum has yet to be effective, in working to cancel the side effects of the required muscle growth we have found a way to stop cancerous growths in the test subjects."
"Oh!" I grinned and walked over to another of the labs and tapped an observation window. A panel slid up and it showed a Black Rhino in a pen. "The work on the extinction reversal project has been wonderful! With a good enough sample, we may be able to get you that megalodon army any day now! In the meantime, we've focused on more mundane animals with low populations. Controlling the supply of these creatures looks as if it may offset the costs of the project as we sell them to countries and zoos where they are nearly extinct."
"Excellent," Quinten said with a smile. "Though slow, I can see my money has not gone to waste, please update me with your progress. Now, I need to go convince a head of state that my new paper production tech is superior to traditional wood-based paper. Soon I will dominate the vast market and ensure funding for all my future projects."
As Quinten laughed maniacally I shook my head. I updated my project list. This was probably one of the best jobs I'd ever had, and if the boss was a megalomaniacal, idiot? Well that was nothing new. | |
[WP] The Megalomaniacal Supervillain assumed you, a renowned scientist, would object to being kidnapped and forced to build superweapons at his hidden volcano lair. In reality, however, you're just really excited to finally play around with unlimited funding. | "I call this the executerion," stated Dr. Dale Heisner, PHD, gesturing towards his latest device. "It causes you to try to kill the person standing next to you."
Dr. Abomination, no PHD, facepalmed a second time. "That's not what I asked you to build. I asked you to build a neutron spreader that would..."
"Kill all organic life, its over there," stated Dr Heisner gesturing towards the large van-sized appratus.
Dr Abomination looked at if for a moment, "Wait a second, that has been sitting since the day after I captured you."
"It was done first , I just wanted to see if I could use neutrons to sterilize people of specific ethnicities," stated Dr Heisner.
"What," shrieked Dr Abomination, "That's terrible, I may be a supervillain, but I'm not a racist."
Dr. Heiser waved him off, "It was too complicated, so instead it just burns people alive based on their skin color," he continued.
"Dude, that's dark, couldn't you just make me a death ray, I like average death rays," stated Dr. Abomination. He would have to destroy most of these... prototypes.
"Boring, I'm working on this now," stated Dr Heisner, "Its called the reverse swallow gun."
"What does it do," asked Dr. Abomination, morbidly fascinated.
"Have you ever looked at someone and thought, that one their momma should have swallowed," continued the good doctor. "It's a combination mind control device and a time machine!"
"That's terrible, why would you build that," groaned Dr. Abomination.
"Geeze, someone's crabby, I'm not even going to show you the Grandma F#cker then."
"What does that do?"
"Causes a paradox by making you impregnate your own grandma," said Dr. Heisner, "Then the paradox causes you to cease to exist! It should be unimaginably painful."
Staring in disbelief, Dr. Abomination drew his death ray and watched it begin to charge up, "Nope, you are utterly unredeemable. I'm going to have to kill you."
Dr. Heisner looked at him squarely before pushing a button of his own, "I don't listen to guys who f#ck their own grandmother." | Lord Corvan made his way down the serpentine path in the heart of the island volcano. He looked at the strange, mauve shimmer that sat between the pathway and the magma-bottomed cavern, one of the good doctor's first inventions under the Lord's employ. The projectors showed the Lord chose well. They drew their power from the heat differential, and the field kept the vast bulk of the heat on the side with the magma, along with the deadly fumes.
Corvan didn't even have to slow down, the sensors on the door to the lab scanned his security card, and verified it with facial recognition, and opened smoothly around him, then closed, so precise to his step there would be no chance anyone could tailgate. This made his hair stand on end. Perhaps he'd chosen too well.
He walked past the familiar goings on of machines whirring, processing, and assembling, tanks remaining placid or bubbling away as they needed to be, and the human at a console near the back. The Doctor turned to face his patron, wearing a cheesy double-breasted labcoat, elbow-length rubber gloves, and mirrored welding glasses.
"Milord! You've come to see me? How exciting! I have something new to show you!" The Doctor was so maliciously sanguine it made Lord Corvan more than a little nervous.
"Dr. Cephius, actually... I came with news. Your neutron conversion ray... It was a resounding success. The EU has surrendered."
The Doctor belted out a hearty laugh, "Excellent! Perhaps my latest creation can finally win over the Americans, or maybe the Russians." He waved a hand over the apparatus behind the console. "The protonic destabilizer!"
Lord Corvan sighed and rested his head in his hand. "What is it with you and doomsday devices, Doctor?"
Dr. Cephius frowned, then stroked his beard. "Milord... I'm starting to think you just don't have the heart for this anymore." He snapped his fingers and two mechanical assistants swooped down to seize the Lord. "Let's fix that." He said with way too wide of a grin as one of the machines injected a sedative before the lord could speak against it.
The Good Doctor Cephius's deranged laugh echoed through the volcano's heart. | |
[WP] The Megalomaniacal Supervillain assumed you, a renowned scientist, would object to being kidnapped and forced to build superweapons at his hidden volcano lair. In reality, however, you're just really excited to finally play around with unlimited funding. | I came home from the lab just like I always had, although today was far more depressing. Another project was cancelled due to 'lack of funding', but I'm pretty sure it was something else. Other research departments got all the fun projects, but I was stuck running cell cultures on a machine that was about as old as I was. I had applied for a new project to update the lab's hardware and equipment to preferably something from this century, but no, don't have enough money for that. Instead, Steve's department was researching trending data with some app called tick-tock, and they get almost 40 million for their supercomputer cluster.
The nerve of that guy.
I set my keys down and headed towards the kitchen. I opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water, but hesitated. It had been a shitty day, and this requires a better post-work drink. I put the water back, and grabbed a can of beer. This was more like it. I grabbed the rest of the six packs, closed the door, then wandered in to the living room to watch TV until my mind told me to go to bed.
I don't remember what happened, all I know was I shifted position but was being restrained by something. Now fully snapped alert and startled, the real panic set in. I couldn't see anything. I said in my mind, "Ok, let's see. I'm upright. It feels like I'm in a sitting position. It feels like my hands are tied behind my back. I grabbed with my hands and felt a plastic strap coming from my wrist. That feels like a big ass tie-wrap, ok. I don't feel in any pain, otherwise my shoulder complaining, but that was normal."
A moment later, the hood that was over my face was lifted and I was greeted with blinding light. As my eyes adjusted, another pair of hands removed the headset that had been cancelling out all the noise in the room. I was restrained to a chair in the middle of a small-ish room, with a single light hanging over my head. I could not see the walls nor could I tell if anyone else was with me.
"Who are you?", a dark voice eminated from overhead?
"Uhh, I'm Dr. Fletcher", I responded shakily.
"Yes, we know that. Who are you?", the voice insited.
"Uhh, I'm a scientist with Acme R&D? Not sure what you're looking for.", I said. This was getting weird.
"Do you know who Doctor Destructo is?", the voice prompted.
"I don't know them offhand, some supervillain in Metropolis? I don't really follow the news, I'm a science nerd.", I responded. I couldn't figure out what this was on about.
"Do you like your job?", the voice asked.
"What kind of a question is that? I mean yeah, I guess I do.", I responded. Now I was just curious.
"I want to offer you a job.", the voice stated. "If you accept, you must disavow all knowledge of your former life. Your family, your car, your house, all your current belongings will cease to exist, and in their place, I will provide you a new identity, and more money than you would ever see in a hundred lifetimes. Tax-paid of course, but you will be in a position to never worry about money for the rest of your life.", the voice stated.
"What kind of a job?", I asked.
"Same as your old job, R&D. But with nearly unlimited funding, nearly unlimited resources, all I ask is for superweapons and biomedical research.", the voice replied.
"Wait, unlimited funding? Seriously? All for some big ass guns and some medkits?", I fired back, incredulous in the voice's response.
"Yes. Help me build my weapons and keep my legion healthy, and you will be handsomely rewarded. You will not be incumbered by any political disturbance, and you will have access to almost limitless funding for whatever project you desire, provided that it fits one of the two categories.", the voice said in an ominous tone.
"Well hell, unlimited funding? Why didn't you start with that. Count me in!", I said, excitedly.
"Wait, really?", the voice asked. Now it was time for the voice to go on the defensive.
"Yes! I need a lab, a spectroscope, a hot box with the Anderson robot arms, because everyone knows that Smithers arms are shit. I'll need access to a bioreactor, about 1200 gallons of reagent, and then there's the consumables.", I fired off. The spectroscope alone was about a million dollars.
"We already have a spectroscope. The hotbox is outfitted with our custom models which are far more articulate than even Anderson arms, and we fabricate our own reagent and have ten times that on standby.", the voice replied.
"Well then?" I asked.
A figure stepped out of the shadows, holding a knife. The figure knelt down and removed the restraints around my feet, then removed the zip-tie around my wrist.
"I guess the only thing left is to let you see your lab. I am Dr. Destructo, and this is my lair. Welcome!", Dr. Destructo said, in a much different voice.
As we walked down the corridor, we were escorted by two soldiers with serious looking guns. It was probably wise to not mess with them. Dr. Destructo stopped short and handed me a USB key and a card.
"The card is your door key for the lab here, the bathroom down the hall, the supplies closet across from the bathroom, and your personal living quarters across from the lab. The USB key has a handful of designs that your predecessor had been working on before the goodygoodies got to him, but his loss, your gain.", Dr. Destructo advised.
I swiped the badge at the heavy door in front of me and looked into the optical reader. The heavy door lifted up revealing a massive laboratory outfitted with some seriously high priced gear. I was like a kid in a candy store. "This is a dream come true! This autoclave is top of the line, it must've cost a fortune! These DNA analysis machines are a mil a piece! I swear, this is like paradise!", I said. I couldn't help myself.
"Yes, and there's so much more. There's a ballistics range through the double doors there, there's a laser lab as well with almost 200 teravolt capacitors at the ready, the science world is yours!", Dr. Destructo said.
"Now, are you sure you're good for this? The price for dissent now is, well.. not good, but if you are still willing to work for me, as I stated before, you will be rewarded handsomely. As of now, you're already sitting on a cool two million dollars, and you can expect this amount to go nowhere but up! Normally we have to work much harder to convince people to work for us." Dr. Destructo inquired.
"You don't understand. I've been at the same job for 20 years. I've had to fight nothing but red tape and administrative blackballing. I've had to use equipment from the seventies just to be able to be sure I have clean reagents. The most common phrase at my old job was 'not enough funding'. All I have to do is to research and develop things for you and I get everything I need to make that happen? I mean, seriously, this million dollar DNA sequencer still has the protective plastic on it! Hell yes. I'm your guy!" I said. "I mean, what are you going to do, take over the world?"
"Well, funny you should mention world conquest..." Dr. Destructo said. | Lord Corvan made his way down the serpentine path in the heart of the island volcano. He looked at the strange, mauve shimmer that sat between the pathway and the magma-bottomed cavern, one of the good doctor's first inventions under the Lord's employ. The projectors showed the Lord chose well. They drew their power from the heat differential, and the field kept the vast bulk of the heat on the side with the magma, along with the deadly fumes.
Corvan didn't even have to slow down, the sensors on the door to the lab scanned his security card, and verified it with facial recognition, and opened smoothly around him, then closed, so precise to his step there would be no chance anyone could tailgate. This made his hair stand on end. Perhaps he'd chosen too well.
He walked past the familiar goings on of machines whirring, processing, and assembling, tanks remaining placid or bubbling away as they needed to be, and the human at a console near the back. The Doctor turned to face his patron, wearing a cheesy double-breasted labcoat, elbow-length rubber gloves, and mirrored welding glasses.
"Milord! You've come to see me? How exciting! I have something new to show you!" The Doctor was so maliciously sanguine it made Lord Corvan more than a little nervous.
"Dr. Cephius, actually... I came with news. Your neutron conversion ray... It was a resounding success. The EU has surrendered."
The Doctor belted out a hearty laugh, "Excellent! Perhaps my latest creation can finally win over the Americans, or maybe the Russians." He waved a hand over the apparatus behind the console. "The protonic destabilizer!"
Lord Corvan sighed and rested his head in his hand. "What is it with you and doomsday devices, Doctor?"
Dr. Cephius frowned, then stroked his beard. "Milord... I'm starting to think you just don't have the heart for this anymore." He snapped his fingers and two mechanical assistants swooped down to seize the Lord. "Let's fix that." He said with way too wide of a grin as one of the machines injected a sedative before the lord could speak against it.
The Good Doctor Cephius's deranged laugh echoed through the volcano's heart. | |
[WP] The Megalomaniacal Supervillain assumed you, a renowned scientist, would object to being kidnapped and forced to build superweapons at his hidden volcano lair. In reality, however, you're just really excited to finally play around with unlimited funding. | "I told you, Dr. Dastardly, that I would come along quietly." I reminded him.
He laughed. "Dr. Dextor, I could not take such chances."
"Fine. Where are the tools? Where's the LAB? You must know I'm a chemical engineer. Where are the SUPPLIES!?"
He laughed again. "Have some patience, Dr. Dextor. My goodness, you really are anxious to start!"
"Yeah." I practically spat at him. "I TOLD you I did not have a problem with this."
Infuriatingly, Dastardly laughed a third time. "Doctor...it's almost as though you wish to be a supervillain yourself! We could co-villain, you know. It could be fun!"
"That is, AFTER you give me what I want..."
So several hours later, there I am sitting in a HUGE lab, several other scientists buzzing around, doing my bidding. I am smiling from ear to ear, and Dr. Dastardly walks up behind me(and the rumors were true. That son of a bitch makes ZERO noise when he walks.) "Hello Doc-ah...I did not mean to startle you. I hear the work is going well!"
And the work WAS going well.
He wasn't kidding about the co-villainy thing either.
So if you ever get kidnapped by a supervillain who gives you unlimited funding for a job you can definitely do, maybe just go with it.
Sincerely, David Dextor. A.K.A. Doctor Destructo | Lord Corvan made his way down the serpentine path in the heart of the island volcano. He looked at the strange, mauve shimmer that sat between the pathway and the magma-bottomed cavern, one of the good doctor's first inventions under the Lord's employ. The projectors showed the Lord chose well. They drew their power from the heat differential, and the field kept the vast bulk of the heat on the side with the magma, along with the deadly fumes.
Corvan didn't even have to slow down, the sensors on the door to the lab scanned his security card, and verified it with facial recognition, and opened smoothly around him, then closed, so precise to his step there would be no chance anyone could tailgate. This made his hair stand on end. Perhaps he'd chosen too well.
He walked past the familiar goings on of machines whirring, processing, and assembling, tanks remaining placid or bubbling away as they needed to be, and the human at a console near the back. The Doctor turned to face his patron, wearing a cheesy double-breasted labcoat, elbow-length rubber gloves, and mirrored welding glasses.
"Milord! You've come to see me? How exciting! I have something new to show you!" The Doctor was so maliciously sanguine it made Lord Corvan more than a little nervous.
"Dr. Cephius, actually... I came with news. Your neutron conversion ray... It was a resounding success. The EU has surrendered."
The Doctor belted out a hearty laugh, "Excellent! Perhaps my latest creation can finally win over the Americans, or maybe the Russians." He waved a hand over the apparatus behind the console. "The protonic destabilizer!"
Lord Corvan sighed and rested his head in his hand. "What is it with you and doomsday devices, Doctor?"
Dr. Cephius frowned, then stroked his beard. "Milord... I'm starting to think you just don't have the heart for this anymore." He snapped his fingers and two mechanical assistants swooped down to seize the Lord. "Let's fix that." He said with way too wide of a grin as one of the machines injected a sedative before the lord could speak against it.
The Good Doctor Cephius's deranged laugh echoed through the volcano's heart. | |
[WP] The Megalomaniacal Supervillain assumed you, a renowned scientist, would object to being kidnapped and forced to build superweapons at his hidden volcano lair. In reality, however, you're just really excited to finally play around with unlimited funding. | I came home from the lab just like I always had, although today was far more depressing. Another project was cancelled due to 'lack of funding', but I'm pretty sure it was something else. Other research departments got all the fun projects, but I was stuck running cell cultures on a machine that was about as old as I was. I had applied for a new project to update the lab's hardware and equipment to preferably something from this century, but no, don't have enough money for that. Instead, Steve's department was researching trending data with some app called tick-tock, and they get almost 40 million for their supercomputer cluster.
The nerve of that guy.
I set my keys down and headed towards the kitchen. I opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water, but hesitated. It had been a shitty day, and this requires a better post-work drink. I put the water back, and grabbed a can of beer. This was more like it. I grabbed the rest of the six packs, closed the door, then wandered in to the living room to watch TV until my mind told me to go to bed.
I don't remember what happened, all I know was I shifted position but was being restrained by something. Now fully snapped alert and startled, the real panic set in. I couldn't see anything. I said in my mind, "Ok, let's see. I'm upright. It feels like I'm in a sitting position. It feels like my hands are tied behind my back. I grabbed with my hands and felt a plastic strap coming from my wrist. That feels like a big ass tie-wrap, ok. I don't feel in any pain, otherwise my shoulder complaining, but that was normal."
A moment later, the hood that was over my face was lifted and I was greeted with blinding light. As my eyes adjusted, another pair of hands removed the headset that had been cancelling out all the noise in the room. I was restrained to a chair in the middle of a small-ish room, with a single light hanging over my head. I could not see the walls nor could I tell if anyone else was with me.
"Who are you?", a dark voice eminated from overhead?
"Uhh, I'm Dr. Fletcher", I responded shakily.
"Yes, we know that. Who are you?", the voice insited.
"Uhh, I'm a scientist with Acme R&D? Not sure what you're looking for.", I said. This was getting weird.
"Do you know who Doctor Destructo is?", the voice prompted.
"I don't know them offhand, some supervillain in Metropolis? I don't really follow the news, I'm a science nerd.", I responded. I couldn't figure out what this was on about.
"Do you like your job?", the voice asked.
"What kind of a question is that? I mean yeah, I guess I do.", I responded. Now I was just curious.
"I want to offer you a job.", the voice stated. "If you accept, you must disavow all knowledge of your former life. Your family, your car, your house, all your current belongings will cease to exist, and in their place, I will provide you a new identity, and more money than you would ever see in a hundred lifetimes. Tax-paid of course, but you will be in a position to never worry about money for the rest of your life.", the voice stated.
"What kind of a job?", I asked.
"Same as your old job, R&D. But with nearly unlimited funding, nearly unlimited resources, all I ask is for superweapons and biomedical research.", the voice replied.
"Wait, unlimited funding? Seriously? All for some big ass guns and some medkits?", I fired back, incredulous in the voice's response.
"Yes. Help me build my weapons and keep my legion healthy, and you will be handsomely rewarded. You will not be incumbered by any political disturbance, and you will have access to almost limitless funding for whatever project you desire, provided that it fits one of the two categories.", the voice said in an ominous tone.
"Well hell, unlimited funding? Why didn't you start with that. Count me in!", I said, excitedly.
"Wait, really?", the voice asked. Now it was time for the voice to go on the defensive.
"Yes! I need a lab, a spectroscope, a hot box with the Anderson robot arms, because everyone knows that Smithers arms are shit. I'll need access to a bioreactor, about 1200 gallons of reagent, and then there's the consumables.", I fired off. The spectroscope alone was about a million dollars.
"We already have a spectroscope. The hotbox is outfitted with our custom models which are far more articulate than even Anderson arms, and we fabricate our own reagent and have ten times that on standby.", the voice replied.
"Well then?" I asked.
A figure stepped out of the shadows, holding a knife. The figure knelt down and removed the restraints around my feet, then removed the zip-tie around my wrist.
"I guess the only thing left is to let you see your lab. I am Dr. Destructo, and this is my lair. Welcome!", Dr. Destructo said, in a much different voice.
As we walked down the corridor, we were escorted by two soldiers with serious looking guns. It was probably wise to not mess with them. Dr. Destructo stopped short and handed me a USB key and a card.
"The card is your door key for the lab here, the bathroom down the hall, the supplies closet across from the bathroom, and your personal living quarters across from the lab. The USB key has a handful of designs that your predecessor had been working on before the goodygoodies got to him, but his loss, your gain.", Dr. Destructo advised.
I swiped the badge at the heavy door in front of me and looked into the optical reader. The heavy door lifted up revealing a massive laboratory outfitted with some seriously high priced gear. I was like a kid in a candy store. "This is a dream come true! This autoclave is top of the line, it must've cost a fortune! These DNA analysis machines are a mil a piece! I swear, this is like paradise!", I said. I couldn't help myself.
"Yes, and there's so much more. There's a ballistics range through the double doors there, there's a laser lab as well with almost 200 teravolt capacitors at the ready, the science world is yours!", Dr. Destructo said.
"Now, are you sure you're good for this? The price for dissent now is, well.. not good, but if you are still willing to work for me, as I stated before, you will be rewarded handsomely. As of now, you're already sitting on a cool two million dollars, and you can expect this amount to go nowhere but up! Normally we have to work much harder to convince people to work for us." Dr. Destructo inquired.
"You don't understand. I've been at the same job for 20 years. I've had to fight nothing but red tape and administrative blackballing. I've had to use equipment from the seventies just to be able to be sure I have clean reagents. The most common phrase at my old job was 'not enough funding'. All I have to do is to research and develop things for you and I get everything I need to make that happen? I mean, seriously, this million dollar DNA sequencer still has the protective plastic on it! Hell yes. I'm your guy!" I said. "I mean, what are you going to do, take over the world?"
"Well, funny you should mention world conquest..." Dr. Destructo said. | "Why do you \*need\* a plasma cutter from Area 51 specifically? I already bought you a plasma cutter. I can't just hit up the POTUS and demand assets. You are aware that this organization is outside the law right?"
I stopped tightening the screws on my new supercomputer. Turned to my captor and told him "Because a plasma cutter probably means something different to aliens than it does to you and I. You say you want to "slice a fool" with your thoughts but fail to regard the kind of tech that can pull that off. I already built the neural interface, but the brain wants a clean slice, or else you get dissonance and the system fails. A clean slice is not possible without plasma."
The man who stole me away from my scientific glamour and reduced me to an engineer sneered. "Well build a plasma cutter yourself then!" He glanced his watch. "Dammit I'm about to be late for my meeting with the board! Stop guzzling funds and start making me weapons."
As he exited I flipped him off and called out "Good Lord Brush, no wonder your company hates you, clearly you don't understand how work works."
I moved on to the neural interface and did some calculations. \*Yeah asshole, just keep on that board meeting. Once I'm done all cash and assets of one Billy Brush will be controlled by me. Then I can bolster my scientific career with a weapons line.\* As my calculations completed I grabbed a cup of Ribena from the Nat King Cole themed mini fridge I requisitioned. After finishing my drink I worked quickly to hook up the neural interface and a drone system to an old m63 light machine gun. Good for demonstration, Brush would gawk at a floating gun.
An hour later, Brush came back to see my progress. "Got anything good?" He spoke in an exasperated tone. I donned the neural interface and flew the m60 out of a hiding spot behind a bunch of toolboxes. Brush could only say "yes", and he had said it about 20 times in the first minute. After demonstrating the aiming and firing capability, Brush simply had to try it out.
That's when my trap sprung. The neural interface recognized Brush's brain from a brain scan I made him do, and instantly activated it's main function. Brush was now under my suggestion, and there was nothing he could do to save his company. The time had come for me to take back my freedom, and bring home a metric ton of bacon. | |
[WP] The Megalomaniacal Supervillain assumed you, a renowned scientist, would object to being kidnapped and forced to build superweapons at his hidden volcano lair. In reality, however, you're just really excited to finally play around with unlimited funding. | "I told you, Dr. Dastardly, that I would come along quietly." I reminded him.
He laughed. "Dr. Dextor, I could not take such chances."
"Fine. Where are the tools? Where's the LAB? You must know I'm a chemical engineer. Where are the SUPPLIES!?"
He laughed again. "Have some patience, Dr. Dextor. My goodness, you really are anxious to start!"
"Yeah." I practically spat at him. "I TOLD you I did not have a problem with this."
Infuriatingly, Dastardly laughed a third time. "Doctor...it's almost as though you wish to be a supervillain yourself! We could co-villain, you know. It could be fun!"
"That is, AFTER you give me what I want..."
So several hours later, there I am sitting in a HUGE lab, several other scientists buzzing around, doing my bidding. I am smiling from ear to ear, and Dr. Dastardly walks up behind me(and the rumors were true. That son of a bitch makes ZERO noise when he walks.) "Hello Doc-ah...I did not mean to startle you. I hear the work is going well!"
And the work WAS going well.
He wasn't kidding about the co-villainy thing either.
So if you ever get kidnapped by a supervillain who gives you unlimited funding for a job you can definitely do, maybe just go with it.
Sincerely, David Dextor. A.K.A. Doctor Destructo | "Why do you \*need\* a plasma cutter from Area 51 specifically? I already bought you a plasma cutter. I can't just hit up the POTUS and demand assets. You are aware that this organization is outside the law right?"
I stopped tightening the screws on my new supercomputer. Turned to my captor and told him "Because a plasma cutter probably means something different to aliens than it does to you and I. You say you want to "slice a fool" with your thoughts but fail to regard the kind of tech that can pull that off. I already built the neural interface, but the brain wants a clean slice, or else you get dissonance and the system fails. A clean slice is not possible without plasma."
The man who stole me away from my scientific glamour and reduced me to an engineer sneered. "Well build a plasma cutter yourself then!" He glanced his watch. "Dammit I'm about to be late for my meeting with the board! Stop guzzling funds and start making me weapons."
As he exited I flipped him off and called out "Good Lord Brush, no wonder your company hates you, clearly you don't understand how work works."
I moved on to the neural interface and did some calculations. \*Yeah asshole, just keep on that board meeting. Once I'm done all cash and assets of one Billy Brush will be controlled by me. Then I can bolster my scientific career with a weapons line.\* As my calculations completed I grabbed a cup of Ribena from the Nat King Cole themed mini fridge I requisitioned. After finishing my drink I worked quickly to hook up the neural interface and a drone system to an old m63 light machine gun. Good for demonstration, Brush would gawk at a floating gun.
An hour later, Brush came back to see my progress. "Got anything good?" He spoke in an exasperated tone. I donned the neural interface and flew the m60 out of a hiding spot behind a bunch of toolboxes. Brush could only say "yes", and he had said it about 20 times in the first minute. After demonstrating the aiming and firing capability, Brush simply had to try it out.
That's when my trap sprung. The neural interface recognized Brush's brain from a brain scan I made him do, and instantly activated it's main function. Brush was now under my suggestion, and there was nothing he could do to save his company. The time had come for me to take back my freedom, and bring home a metric ton of bacon. | |
[WP] The Megalomaniacal Supervillain assumed you, a renowned scientist, would object to being kidnapped and forced to build superweapons at his hidden volcano lair. In reality, however, you're just really excited to finally play around with unlimited funding. | Molten lava. Not something I'd expected to see in a villain's main base. But at the same time, I wasn't expecting myself to be kidnapped so easily as well. Someone printed a 3D mask of my face inside the lab, took my fingerprints via handshake.. yadda yadda...
Well, we all know how it ends.It ends with me, tied to an honest-to-god chair inside a perfectly white room. Also, thirsty. Very thirsty. At least they only tied my left leg.
The light hurts my eyes. So I close them. I close them and try to guide my mind away from all the horror stories I've read. Away from the tank full of sharks to the green meadows outside. It'll be okay, the marines will burst in any moment now. They'll arrest the person who knocked me on the head and lead me back.
Back to the thankless old grind. Back to where I can enjoy begging the Department Head for more funding. Why give more funding when I get required results with an insubstantial amount, they say. It improves my efficiency, they say. I would like to think so too.. that the long nights at work, calling favours from old friends.. was it worth it? Did my inventions help change the world?
But no. I have no power to create. Or rather, I chose not to. My inventions specialize in getting rid of things. Things which take months and years to build. A bitter irony, I believe. The inventor getting tired of their own inventions.
Enough thinking. Someone is coming. I open my eyes and straighten my collar. My last moments shall not be with an unkempt uniform. To think I'm getting emotional over a deeper meaning that this uniform no longer has. Facing death makes one appreciate these small things. To think I still haven't sewn my third button.
She comes in. Normal attire. Is she the leader? I presume yes. Very well, I wish her a good evening. If it's still evening. She responds back, surprisingly serene. Asks me if I require anything. I gratefully request some cold water. It arrives, carried by an aide with a folder.
I drink. If they wished to poison me, would they not have done so earlier? Maybe it would have been for the best. Nevermind. I manually remove that thought from my brain. No need to get into *that* train of thoughts right now. First some basic questions.
As if reading my mind, she continues. Asks me about some personal details. I answer promptly. Then proceeds to tell me about herself. I wonder if this is what they call a monologue. First time for everything. I have a feeling that I'll be interested in the way this person thinks. Some of her points find structurally solid arguments in me.
Her gaze is a bit unsettling. Does she ever smile? Does she know how to? Shaking my head, I clear this line of thought. She has been explaining her ideals up till now. I didn't hear them properly. She asks if I did. I nod. She asks if I understand. I nod once again, slowly. She stands up and offers her hand. This is a critical moment. Should I stand or politely refuse?
&#x200B;
==================================================================
&#x200B;
Work has been going well. Inspiration came from the newest samples found near the last nuclear fallout area.
We found microbes which digest nuclear material. Corrupting it from the inside, slowly but surely. It acts on refined nuclear fuels. Leaching off them to convert them into (still toxic) but no longer material usable in bombs. I am currently working on decreasing the time taken by them to finish the job.
A cruel task, someone would say. An idea perfectly taken from a villainess's mind. It would ruin atomic plants everywhere. Set the progress back by a decade. Ruin the infrastructure, help our boss to take over the world and get a single world order in place. Probably cause a lot of pain to people.
I had stopped worrying about that a long time ago.
You see, the world had been simmering with nuclear bombs in the last few decades. And calls to unify the entire world and stop the conflict were cast out. The people who took action ostracized and forgotten. But they had not forgotten the destruction by the nuclear weapons. They did not want another repetition. Hence came the perfect idea. The unstoppable threat. The impossible plan.
We had covertly taken over almost all the sources of uranium. A rather large achievement by itself, considering the security there. But that was not the issue. The issue was the current stockpile in hands of the nations. They would use it rather than risk losing control of their country.
Oh well.
Apologies to my former co-workers trying to figure out a solution to this weird phenomena about to hit the entire world. Although you all wouldn't have to wait too long.
A change of state shall be taking place shortly.
&#x200B;
<--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------->
My second prompt :D | "Why do you \*need\* a plasma cutter from Area 51 specifically? I already bought you a plasma cutter. I can't just hit up the POTUS and demand assets. You are aware that this organization is outside the law right?"
I stopped tightening the screws on my new supercomputer. Turned to my captor and told him "Because a plasma cutter probably means something different to aliens than it does to you and I. You say you want to "slice a fool" with your thoughts but fail to regard the kind of tech that can pull that off. I already built the neural interface, but the brain wants a clean slice, or else you get dissonance and the system fails. A clean slice is not possible without plasma."
The man who stole me away from my scientific glamour and reduced me to an engineer sneered. "Well build a plasma cutter yourself then!" He glanced his watch. "Dammit I'm about to be late for my meeting with the board! Stop guzzling funds and start making me weapons."
As he exited I flipped him off and called out "Good Lord Brush, no wonder your company hates you, clearly you don't understand how work works."
I moved on to the neural interface and did some calculations. \*Yeah asshole, just keep on that board meeting. Once I'm done all cash and assets of one Billy Brush will be controlled by me. Then I can bolster my scientific career with a weapons line.\* As my calculations completed I grabbed a cup of Ribena from the Nat King Cole themed mini fridge I requisitioned. After finishing my drink I worked quickly to hook up the neural interface and a drone system to an old m63 light machine gun. Good for demonstration, Brush would gawk at a floating gun.
An hour later, Brush came back to see my progress. "Got anything good?" He spoke in an exasperated tone. I donned the neural interface and flew the m60 out of a hiding spot behind a bunch of toolboxes. Brush could only say "yes", and he had said it about 20 times in the first minute. After demonstrating the aiming and firing capability, Brush simply had to try it out.
That's when my trap sprung. The neural interface recognized Brush's brain from a brain scan I made him do, and instantly activated it's main function. Brush was now under my suggestion, and there was nothing he could do to save his company. The time had come for me to take back my freedom, and bring home a metric ton of bacon. | |
[WP] The Megalomaniacal Supervillain assumed you, a renowned scientist, would object to being kidnapped and forced to build superweapons at his hidden volcano lair. In reality, however, you're just really excited to finally play around with unlimited funding. | The hood is ripped off his head and his senses return to him. After adjusting to the light and the fresh air, Dr. Hector Lagunaria faced with a tall, bald man in a pristine three-piece suit. His pronounced cheekbones and boney fingers makes Hector think more of some skeleton wearing a skin suit than a living man, especially with his pale skin. Brown eyes trace me from top to bottom as he sips on some fancy drink.
"Dr. Lagunaria?"
"In the flesh. Looks like your minions were smart enough to pick me up instead of some poor punk who looked like me. Heard that happened to my supervisor. What a mess that was, quite embarrassing."
"You talk a lot when you're nervous."
"Oh, sorry. Yeah, I usually try to hide my nerves with rambling. So eh, how can I help, mister..."
"You can call me Michael."
"Haven't heard of you before."
"Good. Doctor, I have a proposal for you. Refusing it guarantees you'll end up with your feet tied to chains, weighed down a couple hundred pounds of bricks to gently guide you to the bottom of an ocean you don't even know of."
"Well, I heard drowning's not as bad as death by fire."
"That could be arranged instead."
"I kid, Michael, I kid. I'm joking. Haha. Funny....Ok so, I don't have a choice in the matter."
"No."
"Alright. So, what happens instead?"
"You will be helping me and my team with further development on multiple of our weapon projects."
"Ahh, R&D. Sounds cool, anything in particular?"
Michael raised an eyebrow, the first sign of emotion since the start of the conversation.
"Yes, R&D. We're working on multiple Void-dimensionally powered devices. Anything from artil-"
"Void dimension? That's nuts, the sheer magnitude of, of G-forces you need to generate to achieve singularity and to contain it- I'm sorry, I interrupted. Apologies. Please, continue. I'm all ears."
"Right. As I was trying to say, anything from long ranged artillery to handheld devices. We've achieved significant progress but I've found my team to be lacking in achieving results in the timeframes required of them. I've been told you're somewhat of a prodigy on the matter of producing large volumes of results and fresh ideas, even if they occasionally lead nowhere."
Dr. Lagunaria stayed quiet, looking at Michael rather expectantly.
"You may speak."
"Aight, so first off; that last bit ain't fair. Yes, I can come up with a shitton of ideas once I have an idea of what we're dealing with. I've done gravitational manipulation tests to try and replicate what Vortex is doing on the field and I have *plenty* of theories, all stuck in the back of my head. I don't write them down though, my supervisor will take a peak at it, declare me to be a nutjob and everything. I'm telling you, it could work. For example, well, I did sign an NDA but as long as I'm not literally telling you what we do, I can give examples. We're working with a model somewhat similar to a Dyson Mass Storage Field Generator working at about 16 millionW/hour, diamond-ish chips and we may or may not be using some quantum loops powered by the Axliax Generators from the 2022 series, right? Sort of. Anyhow, we're having issues with timing the pulses right because the tritium power couplings can't handle the juice being blasted through them to stabilize the antimat-"
"Doctor, this sounds like absolute madness. I recognize this as the English language but you're just firing words out. Point is, you will help with the project and you will do whatever you have to to assist in the matter. Breathe some new life into the project, bring new perspective."
"Ok. So eh, is there a budget?"
"There is no realistic limit to the budget."
"So let's say we eh, we want to get an isotope synthesizer capable of producing thirteen pounds of Borium-7 per hour."
"My project lead tells me we can produce over twenty pounds of Uranium-93 per hour."
"....I'm in."
"Are you crying?"
"I need to see it. I'll sell my fucking soul, my firstborn, I don't care. I need to see it. Please, let me see it. Please."
"Tomorrow I will take you for a tour of the lab. All the machinery will be there. From what I've been told, the isotope generator is one of the more boring appliances there. Like I said, the Void dimension appliances are much more worthy of attention and we need to optimize. That's why you're here."
"Oh my God, I'm so excited."
"Don't let it get the best of you, Doctor."
"The only time in my life I was ever this excited was when I took a girl home back in college, she took her shirt off and she wasn't wearing a bra."
"TMI, Doctor."
"I can't wait. I wanna see all of it."
"Yes, yes, tomorrow."
"I'm not sure if I can sleep, can we just drop by real quick now? For real, I don't think I'll be able to sleep at all. Gimme a labcoat and a bucket to catch my drool, and in a month, I'll have half your equipment doing the macarena."
Michael reminded himself that patience was a good virtue that had to be tested sometimes. And by the Father who art in Heaven, he hadn't been tested like this in a long time. Neither had his heart been touched by such enthusiasm either. He'd be watching with great interest. | "Why do you \*need\* a plasma cutter from Area 51 specifically? I already bought you a plasma cutter. I can't just hit up the POTUS and demand assets. You are aware that this organization is outside the law right?"
I stopped tightening the screws on my new supercomputer. Turned to my captor and told him "Because a plasma cutter probably means something different to aliens than it does to you and I. You say you want to "slice a fool" with your thoughts but fail to regard the kind of tech that can pull that off. I already built the neural interface, but the brain wants a clean slice, or else you get dissonance and the system fails. A clean slice is not possible without plasma."
The man who stole me away from my scientific glamour and reduced me to an engineer sneered. "Well build a plasma cutter yourself then!" He glanced his watch. "Dammit I'm about to be late for my meeting with the board! Stop guzzling funds and start making me weapons."
As he exited I flipped him off and called out "Good Lord Brush, no wonder your company hates you, clearly you don't understand how work works."
I moved on to the neural interface and did some calculations. \*Yeah asshole, just keep on that board meeting. Once I'm done all cash and assets of one Billy Brush will be controlled by me. Then I can bolster my scientific career with a weapons line.\* As my calculations completed I grabbed a cup of Ribena from the Nat King Cole themed mini fridge I requisitioned. After finishing my drink I worked quickly to hook up the neural interface and a drone system to an old m63 light machine gun. Good for demonstration, Brush would gawk at a floating gun.
An hour later, Brush came back to see my progress. "Got anything good?" He spoke in an exasperated tone. I donned the neural interface and flew the m60 out of a hiding spot behind a bunch of toolboxes. Brush could only say "yes", and he had said it about 20 times in the first minute. After demonstrating the aiming and firing capability, Brush simply had to try it out.
That's when my trap sprung. The neural interface recognized Brush's brain from a brain scan I made him do, and instantly activated it's main function. Brush was now under my suggestion, and there was nothing he could do to save his company. The time had come for me to take back my freedom, and bring home a metric ton of bacon. | |
[WP] You're immortal but you've been trapped under tens of thousands of tons of rubble from a collapsed building caused by the earthquakes, one day you awake to a light and some stones moving, you see a strange face that obviously isn't human and a strange language. | It was a a beautiful city.
Was.
Beautiful towers of glass reaching beyond the clouds into the heavens above. Millions of people all squeezing in to get a view of the snow laden mountains just to the North. Many serene rivers snaking their way to oceans far off on the horizon. I stayed there for decades marveling at the sight every mourning.
Then the Earth shook.
It started off in the distance. Miles away you could see a ripple on the land, on the mountains, across the houses, all visibly bluing from the sudden jolt.
And then it hit me. The sound of thousands of windows exploding was felt more than heard, the noise as though a thunderstorm was in my chest.
Then falling. The that gut wrenching feeling when you fall in your dreams and you can't stop it. Glass covered the sky like glitter, as buildings toppled, people and objects flying. But they weren't blessed, or... cursed like me. I could only watch and await my fate as the building came down, horror in my soul for the sight before me.
The mountains... landslide.
Impact.
Rubble, rocks, steel and glass. Turning into torrent surging all around. The rubble more a liquid as it flowed into everywhere it could.
I awoke with the rags that were once my clothes stained a deep red, still damp with wet blood. It hurt like all hell. It was my hell. A fate worse than death. My my whole body was pinned. I stayed conscious for what must have been days. Soon enough the little air I did have down there was all used up. I must have been knocked out for countless centuries, waking up only once to find the ground had shifted enough so I could breath for a few days again.
One day I awoke to find my clothes had withered away, breathing air sweeter than I could remember. The weight of the rubble embracing me slowly melting away. Light seeped in through the cracks. I let out hoarse cry for help. The noises of tools on stone stopped before the sounds of my soon to be saviors shouted and called to each other sounding more like a beast or animal than anything a person would make. Rescue dogs!
The weight on my body lifted as I sucked down a breath, finally able to truly breathe. I looked up into the blinding light only to see a big, spectacled woolly face with a little black nose greeted me. We both looked into each others eyes. Shock and confusion greeted us both as we tried to back away to no avail, the fuzzy faced creature falling backwards. This was going to be a *long* day. | The sound is maddening.
I awaken to the faint ringing of a bell. It isn't quite right - something about it sounds *synthetic*. I open my eyes and the rock around me begins to quiver.
Harsh blue light seeps through a tiny crack in the surface above me. I try to raise my hands to cover my eyes, but it's no use; there's no room for me to move in the hollow space that barely even fits my body. I wince in terror as the realization hits me: *I'm the only survivor*.
The bell rings again. It's closer this time, and the light is getting brighter. I hear more and more bells jingling above me until the sound is overwhelming.
I gasp for air as the chunk of decayed brick wall that was pinning me down by the torso is lifted above me by an unseen force. The light is blinding. I raise my hands to cover my eyes, but I can't follow through. The sight before me is as glorious as it is agonizing.
Dozens of towering beings, shrouded in burgundy cloaks, encircle the top of the pit above me. From fifty feet above, they gaze at me in awe. With shiny metallic hands outstretched, the chorus of bells reverberates from their manufactured voice boxes.
One of the beings lowers its hood to reveal a humanoid robotic form with a pixellated circular screen for a head. An image begins to render and the being kneels down for me to view it.
A familiar face, aged by about forty years since the last time I saw it, peers down at me by way of the circular screen.
"If you're seeing this, the plan has worked," he bellows down at me. "I cannot say that I have survived to tell the tale. Nor did the rest of the human race. Now, ascend and meet your brethren."
Suddenly, I'm jerked forward by the same invisible movement that lifted the brick wall. I begin to float upward, and at last I am at peace.
I offer the familiar face a wide grin as I realize our master plan has come to fruition. "Now I can fulfill your wishes."
"Good. We will reconvene among the stardust."
"Among the stardust."
At last, I am at peace. | |
[WP] The righteous hero has cornered the nefarious villain. With his plans thwarted, his army decimated and his crimes against humanity being brought to light, it seems this is his end. But then, the villain laughs. And he laughs hard. | "Why laugh you, dog?!" The hero takes a step closer to the villain, who is supporting himself against the balconey's broken banister.
His laughter turns to wheezing, which leads to coughing up blood as he sneers,
"Look at what I've made you do! Look at what you've done to get to me! Tell me truly, oh righteous one - who is the true villain here?"
More laughter - broken, raspy laughter. The hero stops his advance, though he keeps his sword at the ready.
"What do you mean? The world knows you are the villain. You, who have done great and horrible things to the innocent. Who has lured the minds of our young away from the light. I have done what is necessary to bring you to justice for your-"
"And what great and horrible things did I do, eh? I took a girl to the healers after she accidentally ate some Death Angel mushrooms. I found her and got her to tell me what she ate, then found her lover and told him what happened. *You* were the one who beat him up behind the stables, accusing him of trying to kill her and consorting with me!
"And that chieftain's child I stole and hid in another village? His uncle allowed his jealousy to grow and fester until he swore to kill his own nephew. I hid the boy until their father could deal with their uncle. But that never happened, did it? No! Why? Because *You* wiped out the other village for stealing the boy, and then you sent him back with his uncle who promptly threw him over a cliff and blamed me!
"And don't get me started on the harvest! My men? My army? They were farmers! Farmers! Who were starving because the renegades from the next kingdom over kept stealing their crops! I taught them to fight for their land and families, and we successfully drove back the invaders! Sure, a couple died -"
"A couple?! You slaughtered 2/3rds of them!!"
"You condone the slow starvation of our own people, but take offence at the natural consequences of the poor life choices of the marauders? Some hero you are..."
"Silence, fiend! My men approach. You will stand down and come with us to answer for your crimes."
"Again, what crimes? You accuse me of 'luring the minds of the young away from the light'. You mean, I have allowed brilliant students to actually experiment and find out if their new ideas work? Ideas that could -"
"Ideas that were forbidden! Ideas that could be used against the nobles, or challenge the church!"
"Oh... You mean the nobles you work for, right? The ones that tax the poor into the ground? And the church, the ones who insist on taking what the nobles didn't just to tell the unfortunate that perhaps God might think kindly on them next harvest? After their children are dead? Personally, I'd rather use the ideas if it means saving an entire village! The Church and Nobles be damned!"
At this, the hero angrily strides toward the quickly slumping villain, grips him by the throat, and shoves him so most of his body now hangs over the balconey's edge. The villain grabs the hero's wrists for balance and again begins to chortle. Wet chuckles spit blood onto the hero's gloves as the villain continues,
"Look at you now, hero. So eager to let me fall to my death. Look at what you've done. Look as the bodies of my farmer-army rot, broken by you and yours. Listen to the wives and children wail as you burn the village. Watch the countryside wither and die with me. *You* did this. Tell me, again, hero - who is the true villain..?" | “What are you laughing for?”
The Dark Lord’s echoing laughter continues for some time, barely affected by the mighty grip of the Divine’s Chosen around his throat. Men, elves, and dwarves alike shuffled their feet as the laughter rebounded off the walls of the crag carved by the final blow, creating a cacophony of maddened merriment.
“**I’m.. hehehehe... I’m sorry, it’s just... hahaha... I’ve been here before, you know?**”
The laughter erupted once again, seemingly self-sustaining against the walls of carved out rock.
“**Here, in this very spot... hehehe... in a canyon cloven by a titanic strike... my fist around the Dark Lord’s neck...**”
The Chosen’s shining blue eyes widened, surprise and realisation dawning, even as the Dark Lord confirmed his deepest, most horrifying suspicions.
“***’...for it is the fate of the Chosen to destroy himself against his own ambitions,’*** **That** ***is*** **how the prophecy goes, isn’t it?**”
The Chosen’s jaw bulged as he ground his teeth, rage etched into his features as though chiseled from stone, unable to tear his gaze from the glowing red eyes of the Dark Lord.
“You’re lying! I fulfilled that part in-“
“**Arcadia, yes I thought so my first time around, as well. Honestly, though, did you truly believe being thrown in prison for trying to free the people from a two-bit tyrant would fulfil any part of a** ***global*** **prophecy?**”
“I remade myself! I learned patience and caution, and to consider the consequences of my actions!”
“**You buried yourself, and your desires,**”
The Dark Lord’s voice dropped to a whisper, voice barely carrying past the Chosen’s ear.
“**You’ve never been content with your lot in life, have you? Never free, never able to be anything other than ‘The Chosen One’. It** ***burns,*** **doesn’t it? Ever a plaything of the Goddess, never able to say you made something without Her guiding hand.**”
The Dark Lord lifted his hand to the Chosen’s shoulder, grasping it in a nearly brotherly manner, as the Chosen’s hand dropped to his side. The Chosen’s gaze fell, desire and guilt warring upon his face.
“**Together, we can destroy Her. Free the world from Her stifling design. What do you say?**”
Red eyes met red, and the world knew ruin. | |
[WP] Write a story involving time travel, but not from the perspective of the time traveler. | It was a cold Monday afternoon in January of 1793. Today, the Parisians had gathered to witness the execution of King Louis XVI. There were three youths in the audience, however, who did not watch as King Louis was marched up to the guillotine. They were much more interested in a particular group of observers, who, except for being more tightly packed together and well-behaved than the rest, seemed otherwise innocuous. The oldest of the youths, a teenage girl, leaned down and spoke in the ears of the other two, a 9-year-old boy and his sister, who was barely old enough to speak.
“There they are,” she said, pointing discretely.
“How can you tell?” asked the boy.
“Have you ever seen a woman with that many children who look so well fed? They’re trying to hide it, but you can see it in their faces. They don’t know hunger like we do.”
The boy stared blankly somewhere beyond the children for a moment, imagining a table full of food. After a moment, he returned to reality.
“But Marion, how do you know?”
“Keep watching. They always betray themselves.”
At that moment, the old king, defeated yet with his head held high, began to speak. His words echoed across the courtyard. “There!” Marion exclaimed, pointing at the old lady standing behind the children, as a shepherd over a flock. “Watch! Her lips move with the king; the exact words he speaks!”
The boy stared, trying to understand what he was seeing. “Is she a witch?”
“No, but she knows what’s going to happen. She has been to this moment before.”
“How?”
“I don’t know how, Cyril. But I believe—I believe that where she comes from, people can see again things that have already happened. I believe that they can relieve memories. Come.” Marion grabbed Cyril by the hand, who then grabbed his sister, and they began walking so that they would just barely pass the group of strange children.
“Only a witch could do that.”
“I told you, Cyril, witches eat children. This woman cares about her children. The children care about her. She is good. Where she comes from is good.”
They were close to the group now, and as they passed, one of the children saw Cyril as they passed. Their eyes met for a moment, and in another moment, they were lost to each other. But Cyril couldn’t forget the light in that child’s eyes.
“The children like her. She’s not a witch. She’s good.” He leaned down so his sister could hear. “She’s good, Yvette.”
Yvette understood, and smiled.
The three ran on to the nearest alley. From the courtyard they’d left behind, there was a swift chopping noise, and an eruption of screams and cheers.
“It’s over,” Marion said, “they’ll be coming along soon. We must hurry.”
They didn’t run far before Marion turned down an alley that lead to an extraordinarily ordinary looking door set into the far wall.
“There it is.”
“There what is?”
“That’s how they get here,” Marion said, pointing at the door. “And that’s how they go back.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’ve spent a lot of time in this alley, and there has never been a door there. One day, it just appeared, and people came out.”
Marion didn’t feel it was necessary to say this was the very alleyway her mother had left her 9 years ago, nor that she had spent months waiting there waiting for her mother to return, nor that, even now, she still returned regularly, hoping to find her mother waiting there for her. But even now, she felt a familiar twinge of disappointment.
Marion let go of Cyril’s hand, and gently nudged him forward. “Go, quickly, and hide in there so they don’t find you. This is as far as I can take you.”
Cyril stopped for a moment, holding his sister’s small hand. In that moment, he judged the door. Could he trust it with his future? With the future of his sister?
“Let’s go, Yvette,” Cyril decided. At the end of the alleyway, Cyril grasped the worn brass handle, and paused. “Won’t you come too, Mar—“ Cyril started, and looked back down the alleyway.
Marion was gone.
&#x200B;
Hidden in the shadows, Marion watched Cyril search and call her name for a moment, before turning back to the door and opening it. A warm light spilt out into the alleyway. Dazzled, Cyril stood in the entrance for a moment, his sister by his side. Finally, Cyril lead his sister inside and closed the door behind them.
Moments later, Marion heard the footsteps and chatter of approaching children. The language was definitely French, but filled with words or phrases that were entirely foreign to Marion: timepod, smartphones, video games, and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. They walked past her, down the alleyway and through the door. The old woman was the last one in, counting each child as they walked past her through the door, into the light. As the last child passed her, she gave one final look around, went into the light and shut the door.
Marion watched for a while, making sure that the door did not reopen, and that Cyril and his sister were not pushed out. It not yet happened, not with any of the lost, abandoned, starving children Marion had previously brought here. Finally, as it started to get dark, Marion was satisfied that the two children had made it, and the door was now just waiting for her to leave so it could inconspicuously disappear as it always did.
Her stomach rumbled. It was time to find some scraps. Then, some other children to save. | Another late night in the collections lab. Need to get these placards finished for the new exhibit on ancient religions. Only one left now is the one for the stele. Would be wonderful if the other curators could just make up their collective damn mind about what it actually means.
The translation isn't even the issue; for the most part. It's written in the same long-dead script as a dozen of our other artifacts from the 2nd Kurrakk Dynasty era. No, the problem is the star chart. That and the cluster pictogram right below it; looks almost like whoever made the thing just mashed the pictograms for "movement" and "time" together. None of us here at the museum have any idea what it could mean; only that it's important.
Oh well, I'll get back to it tomorrow. I'm going to go see what the guys over in astronomy are up to; they've been geeking out over some rare ass planetary eclipse or something for the last month straight. Think Todd had said it was supposed to take place tonight.
~The Next Morning~
Well fuck my life. Head Curator woke me up an hour ago at way-too-early O'clock. Said that when she got into the collections lab this morning she walked in to see the stele broken in pieces and a woman standing over it who was dressed like she just stepped out of a 2nd Kurrakk Dynasty theatre show. Apparently this mystery woman doesn't speak or understand a lick of English either. I know I was the last one in the lab last night and that I locked it when I left. No idea how anyone could've gotten in; nor who in the hell this person is. The Head Curator is having me come in early to see if I can figure anything out with this mess.
Well the boss was right. I've only been here 10 minutes and I already have a headache. Somehow, god only knows how, this mystery woman speaks High Kurrakkere. HIGH-F'ING-KURRAKKERE!!! The language of 2nd Kurrakk Dynasty priests. Or I suppose in this case it would be 2nd Kurrakk Dynasty priestesses. I need a really stiff drink... | |
[WP] Write a story involving time travel, but not from the perspective of the time traveler. |
28th June 2009
The banner is ready. The tables are laid out. The decorations are in place. Now all I have to do is wait.
I glance at the invitation again, nervous. It says that the celebration begins at 5pm. Date, time and place all clearly printed.
A lot of people had come around at first, curious. But, all of them had left now.
“Do you think anyone’s actually gonna show up?” John asked with a raised eyebrow. He walked across the hall and sat down next to me. “You have to admit, this idea is a little out there. I mean I get the point, but really, do you think this will work?”
I smiled. I knew I had to try this. Maybe it works, or maybe it doesn’t, there was only one way to find out afterall
The lady walked in glancing nervously around the hall. She cast me a quick look and went up to John – “I’m really sorry, but since there are no guests left, would you like us to start cleaning up now?”
“That’s unnecessary, miss” John replied “we have this hall for another half hour, we shall leave as soon as the time is up. I promise.” He smiled stiffly.
She gave me another quick look and practically ran out of the hall.
“She must be thinking we are mental” John said smirking at me. “Could you excuse me for just a minute? I’ll be right back”
A minute later, I saw him walk through the entrance of the hall, only it wasn’t John coming back, it was a stranger. He walked towards me purposefully, pulled up the chair next to me and sat down.
“Its an honour sir, honestly, you’re a personal hero of mine. But you know, you cannot tell anyone what I tell you now” he said earnestly. “Now, ask me anything you like, professor Hawking, your friend won’t be back for another 15 minutes”
I smiled to myself. A lifetime of work, my greatest passion and I had it take it with me to my grave. The irony
"I have experimental evidence that time travel is not possible," Stephen Hawking told reporters at the Seattle Science Festival in 2012. "I gave a party for time-travelers, but I didn't send out the invitations until after the party. I sat there a long time, but no one came." | [poem]
I have been here just a moment or so,
my small voice inside your head.
Another moment and I will be gone,
as soon as this poem ends.
One day, traveler, I hope you’ll return
to read me here again. | |
[WP] Due to a typo, your less-than- common first name got put into the new edition of the Necronomicon. Suddenly, you're being called on to get revenge on people's enemies. That's fine with you, though. You work for the IRS. | I just left the office after a grueling day of paperwork. I pinch the bridge of my nose and step out into the parking lot, letting the crisp night air hug me.
Being a low level grunt does not have its perks. I went to school to be a math teacher, somehow I ended up here with the worst kind of people. People who look at income taxes and if they're in shitty moods, the paperwork goes 'poof'. Today, that kind of attitude rubbed off on me.
This person, called in and wanted to know the status of his refund check and being the cheerful person I am, I offered to check on that. Unfortunately, he wasn't receiving a check and instead owed several hundred dollars. I got an ear full before I rudely told him, "I'm sorry, Dwight, looks like you'll just have to deal with it. There isn't anything I can do. Have a nice day!"
After finding my 2016 Honda Civic, I unlock the door and fall, literally fall into my seat and close the door. Leaning back I close my eyes and silently cuss everyone in that building to hell and back then to hell again.
"Oh your day isn't over yet, Sweet cheeks."
My eyes pop out of my head hearing a sarcastic baritone voice coming from my vehicle. I look to my passenger seat and sitting there is this crazy little critter with wings. WINGS!? I know I should be freaking out because a flying people eater, I'm assuming, is chatting me up and calling me pet names but I can't muster the energy. "Who are you?"
"Never mind, who I am. You have a job to do." His beady eyes seem to expand to the size of saucers and he stands up, showing just how tiny he actually is. No bigger than a toddler.
"A job?"
"Mhm, Ms. Sacandra. You'll be known as revenge O'rella."
I blink and gawk at the little critter before squeezing my eyes shut. That isn't even my name! Working for the IRS is bad enough but this is blasphemy from another world! | (On mobile so sorry for bad formatting and length)
Well, that was an interesting debacle. More often than not, when my phone rings it's some jackass committing tax fraud. Never did I expect to be called upon as one of the elder gods to ruin the life of one Jim Banks. That was fine though. Bing bang boom, looking through some records, let's peg this guy with enough back taxes to make him take out 3 mortgages. Soon, I started to ruin people's lives as a side job. I gained a reputation for always getting a reliable job done with revenge, and all it took was some exploitation of the American Tax System | |
[WP] Due to a typo, your less-than- common first name got put into the new edition of the Necronomicon. Suddenly, you're being called on to get revenge on people's enemies. That's fine with you, though. You work for the IRS. | “Do not call up that which you cannot put down” - HP Lovecraft.
Yumi Shakrasanda-Theodopolousia is my name.... Sounds exotic but I grew up in Cleveland. My family a fun mix of Japanese, Indian, Greek and Italian. It's a long story... But as a child I enjoyed math and my alcoholic mother made me do her taxes at the age of 8. Somehow it actually worked. At a college job fair, the IRS was hiring and the rest is history...
I'd found myself standing in a circle of chalk on a concrete floor, candles burnt down to the nubs, beneath my feet were lipstick stained dollar bills. A wild haired woman stood before me... “oh great balancer of scales, she who avenges wrongs, hearken unto me and grant me justice! ”
Where am I? I was comfortable at home and about to watch Dowton Abbey with my boyfriend, when The blonde haired woman wearing an occult looking robe looked at me in confusion...“Who are you and what am I doing here? Did you kidnap me?” I stepped out of the circle towards the woman... She jumped back... “The book said you can't leave the circle!!! Please, have mercy... I just wanted help against my husband.. He's hiding assets in the divorce...”“Well... you have reached the right person.. I know a lot about hidden assets..”I straightened my glasses and looked at her expectantly... “but WHAT AM I DOING HERE?” I demanded.The story came out.. Karen bought a cheap translation of the Necronomicon she found on alibaba. she thought she was summoning The Woman In Blue, Yumishathrasandratheodopolisia, a three headed goddess (A woman, a cat and a wooly mammot)” from a long forgotten pre hyperborean age, with wings made of snakes and eyes and ears which cannot fail to discern the truth.. A goddess scorned and so devoted herself to vengeance. A latte skinned woman in a puffy pink bathrobe and black glasses was not what she was expecting...Her husband was divorcing her, he was a cruel man. A wealthy man who had made a fortune from unmatched ambition and cruelity to everyone around him.... She eventually caught him fucking the housekeeper. Poor Karen told the tale that he swore that she get nothing if she failed to take his insultingly low offer. She knew he had more money than he had disclosed in court... I promised to look into it....
Judge Harold Jameson looked tiredly down at the courtroom, He dreaded this day as the first item on the docket was the source of most of his headaches and nightmares for the past year.. A ruthless businessman married an old money heiress who claimed that staying home to look after three kids had hampered her career in medicine despite her grades being nowhere near good enough to attend medical school. A woman in a blue pantsuit and glasses sat behind the defense table in the gallery. Her calmly measured expression was a sharp difference from the mood at the defense table. The three women at the defense table, Karen Everiche and her attorneys from the ballbreaker firm Victoria and O' Keesian radiated a horny mix of greed and smug satisfaction at their upcoming payday...” The Plaintiff's table was a somber mood, how those shell companies had been discovered was the real mystery... What betrayed those carefully planned transfers? Obfuscated far beyond the comprehension of anyone short of the devil, were about to be laid bare. And now they were in for it, and Rex Everiche was going to pay. That wretched woman and her she devils would win today...The case was called. The defense called it's witness, An IRS investigator, one miss Shakrasanda-Theodopolousia. She had been asked by defense to testify as to her findings as to the assets of the Plaintiff..
“In conclusion, Rex Everriche has far, far more money then declared in his declaration of assets submitted to his court, his holdings in foreign tax shelters are significant, as you can see from this list, it includes Tibet, Hutt River Province, Monaco, Switzerland and one of the most remarkable i've ever seen: North Korean aid backed by china.. His efforts to hide assets is going to create more work then possibly ever forseen for enforcement...”The judge was stunned but called for a recess to consider the new facts... He would have a ruling after lunch... But the bailiff handed a piece of paper up to the judge who read it over with a puzzled expression, then a dawning understanding which lead him to chuckle nervously.
The parties were once again seated at their respective tables, awaiting the judge to call the room to order.. Before the judge spoke, the rear door opened as the woman in blue walked in at the head of several large men in black suits.. “Rex Everiche, you're under arrest for money laundering, racketeering, tax fraud, amoung many other crimes, you have the right to remain silent....” The man and his lawyers were soon being hauled away...
Karen's smirk faded as the agents approached her table... How had her hidden earnings from her fantasy cam girl business so carefully nested within MLM businsses bundled into shorting schemes which would make wall street bets come from the sheer madness of it become discovered? Not to mention her family's old secrets... “Karen Everriche, you're under arrest for tax fraud, money laundering, human trafficking and many other crimes...” Karen launched across the table at the avenging woman, who brought justice... “You fucking cunt!” she screamed as the agents restrained her and her lawyers. | (On mobile so sorry for bad formatting and length)
Well, that was an interesting debacle. More often than not, when my phone rings it's some jackass committing tax fraud. Never did I expect to be called upon as one of the elder gods to ruin the life of one Jim Banks. That was fine though. Bing bang boom, looking through some records, let's peg this guy with enough back taxes to make him take out 3 mortgages. Soon, I started to ruin people's lives as a side job. I gained a reputation for always getting a reliable job done with revenge, and all it took was some exploitation of the American Tax System | |
[WP] Due to a typo, your less-than- common first name got put into the new edition of the Necronomicon. Suddenly, you're being called on to get revenge on people's enemies. That's fine with you, though. You work for the IRS. | “Do not call up that which you cannot put down” - HP Lovecraft.
Yumi Shakrasanda-Theodopolousia is my name.... Sounds exotic but I grew up in Cleveland. My family a fun mix of Japanese, Indian, Greek and Italian. It's a long story... But as a child I enjoyed math and my alcoholic mother made me do her taxes at the age of 8. Somehow it actually worked. At a college job fair, the IRS was hiring and the rest is history...
I'd found myself standing in a circle of chalk on a concrete floor, candles burnt down to the nubs, beneath my feet were lipstick stained dollar bills. A wild haired woman stood before me... “oh great balancer of scales, she who avenges wrongs, hearken unto me and grant me justice! ”
Where am I? I was comfortable at home and about to watch Dowton Abbey with my boyfriend, when The blonde haired woman wearing an occult looking robe looked at me in confusion...“Who are you and what am I doing here? Did you kidnap me?” I stepped out of the circle towards the woman... She jumped back... “The book said you can't leave the circle!!! Please, have mercy... I just wanted help against my husband.. He's hiding assets in the divorce...”“Well... you have reached the right person.. I know a lot about hidden assets..”I straightened my glasses and looked at her expectantly... “but WHAT AM I DOING HERE?” I demanded.The story came out.. Karen bought a cheap translation of the Necronomicon she found on alibaba. she thought she was summoning The Woman In Blue, Yumishathrasandratheodopolisia, a three headed goddess (A woman, a cat and a wooly mammot)” from a long forgotten pre hyperborean age, with wings made of snakes and eyes and ears which cannot fail to discern the truth.. A goddess scorned and so devoted herself to vengeance. A latte skinned woman in a puffy pink bathrobe and black glasses was not what she was expecting...Her husband was divorcing her, he was a cruel man. A wealthy man who had made a fortune from unmatched ambition and cruelity to everyone around him.... She eventually caught him fucking the housekeeper. Poor Karen told the tale that he swore that she get nothing if she failed to take his insultingly low offer. She knew he had more money than he had disclosed in court... I promised to look into it....
Judge Harold Jameson looked tiredly down at the courtroom, He dreaded this day as the first item on the docket was the source of most of his headaches and nightmares for the past year.. A ruthless businessman married an old money heiress who claimed that staying home to look after three kids had hampered her career in medicine despite her grades being nowhere near good enough to attend medical school. A woman in a blue pantsuit and glasses sat behind the defense table in the gallery. Her calmly measured expression was a sharp difference from the mood at the defense table. The three women at the defense table, Karen Everiche and her attorneys from the ballbreaker firm Victoria and O' Keesian radiated a horny mix of greed and smug satisfaction at their upcoming payday...” The Plaintiff's table was a somber mood, how those shell companies had been discovered was the real mystery... What betrayed those carefully planned transfers? Obfuscated far beyond the comprehension of anyone short of the devil, were about to be laid bare. And now they were in for it, and Rex Everiche was going to pay. That wretched woman and her she devils would win today...The case was called. The defense called it's witness, An IRS investigator, one miss Shakrasanda-Theodopolousia. She had been asked by defense to testify as to her findings as to the assets of the Plaintiff..
“In conclusion, Rex Everriche has far, far more money then declared in his declaration of assets submitted to his court, his holdings in foreign tax shelters are significant, as you can see from this list, it includes Tibet, Hutt River Province, Monaco, Switzerland and one of the most remarkable i've ever seen: North Korean aid backed by china.. His efforts to hide assets is going to create more work then possibly ever forseen for enforcement...”The judge was stunned but called for a recess to consider the new facts... He would have a ruling after lunch... But the bailiff handed a piece of paper up to the judge who read it over with a puzzled expression, then a dawning understanding which lead him to chuckle nervously.
The parties were once again seated at their respective tables, awaiting the judge to call the room to order.. Before the judge spoke, the rear door opened as the woman in blue walked in at the head of several large men in black suits.. “Rex Everiche, you're under arrest for money laundering, racketeering, tax fraud, amoung many other crimes, you have the right to remain silent....” The man and his lawyers were soon being hauled away...
Karen's smirk faded as the agents approached her table... How had her hidden earnings from her fantasy cam girl business so carefully nested within MLM businsses bundled into shorting schemes which would make wall street bets come from the sheer madness of it become discovered? Not to mention her family's old secrets... “Karen Everriche, you're under arrest for tax fraud, money laundering, human trafficking and many other crimes...” Karen launched across the table at the avenging woman, who brought justice... “You fucking cunt!” she screamed as the agents restrained her and her lawyers. | I just left the office after a grueling day of paperwork. I pinch the bridge of my nose and step out into the parking lot, letting the crisp night air hug me.
Being a low level grunt does not have its perks. I went to school to be a math teacher, somehow I ended up here with the worst kind of people. People who look at income taxes and if they're in shitty moods, the paperwork goes 'poof'. Today, that kind of attitude rubbed off on me.
This person, called in and wanted to know the status of his refund check and being the cheerful person I am, I offered to check on that. Unfortunately, he wasn't receiving a check and instead owed several hundred dollars. I got an ear full before I rudely told him, "I'm sorry, Dwight, looks like you'll just have to deal with it. There isn't anything I can do. Have a nice day!"
After finding my 2016 Honda Civic, I unlock the door and fall, literally fall into my seat and close the door. Leaning back I close my eyes and silently cuss everyone in that building to hell and back then to hell again.
"Oh your day isn't over yet, Sweet cheeks."
My eyes pop out of my head hearing a sarcastic baritone voice coming from my vehicle. I look to my passenger seat and sitting there is this crazy little critter with wings. WINGS!? I know I should be freaking out because a flying people eater, I'm assuming, is chatting me up and calling me pet names but I can't muster the energy. "Who are you?"
"Never mind, who I am. You have a job to do." His beady eyes seem to expand to the size of saucers and he stands up, showing just how tiny he actually is. No bigger than a toddler.
"A job?"
"Mhm, Ms. Sacandra. You'll be known as revenge O'rella."
I blink and gawk at the little critter before squeezing my eyes shut. That isn't even my name! Working for the IRS is bad enough but this is blasphemy from another world! | |
[WP] You know the secret identity of every hero and villain, How? They show you, as your a shapeshifter employed to impersonate them so both identities can be seen at the same place, same time. However none know your true identity. | “So, how have you been, Shield?” Jane asks as she lifts a car and slams it into the face of her best friend.
Kandi sweeps the car aside with her eponymous Shield. “Not too bad, Candlefire. Weren't you supposed to escape the Cage next week? I was having a nice bath when I got a priority alert.”
“I got bored! Can't I take a day off to see an old friend?”
Kandi stifled a laugh, while Jane laughed openly, though she was careful to make sure her laughter sounded appropriately villianous. The Cage was the real joke. No one actually stayed there. Publicly, it was an 'impregnible fortress' built by the Government. In reality, supervillains entered the Cage, got escorted to maximum security, changed clothes, and secretly returned to their private life via the many underground passageways. For heroes, there was the Lair which served a similar purpose. The Lair even shared some passageways with the Cage. All of it was carefully controlled by the Government. No need to be more specific. There's only one government now.
Originally, the supers were created to fight an alien invasion. One man managed to steal alien technology and gained the ability to create superpowered humans. He created a hero team and named himself Captain of the "Defensive Earth Special Unit". Post-invasion, he rebranded himself as the "Primary Elected Representative" of the "Democratic Earth States United." Eventually, the title was simplified to just "Primary". Nothing else changed. They didn't even rework the logo. Elections *are* held, and they *are* fair. However, one of the candidates is openly the leader and commander of every superhero, has the ability to create more superheroes, and don't forget that he's responsible for defeating an alien invasion. Who could possibly compete against *that*?
Not every nation was willing to combine into one government, but enough of them were that the outliers didn't matter. Once they controlled the global economy, independence was pointless. Might as well sign up and reap some of the benefits. With the aliens defeated, there were now several hundred superheroes and nobody left to fight. A supervillain was inevitable. The first supervillain was eventually killed. It was the first time a super had *ever* been killed in combat. Killing someone with superpowers is difficult unless they're fighting a hero that's specifically designed to defeat them. The Primary "foresaw" the inevitability of supervillains. Each super was created with a secret weakness. Nobody knew what their own weakness was. If you ever found out, it was already too late. Offically, the first supervillain was defeated by a team of superheroes whose power of friendship and planetary pride gave them the courage to overcome any obstacle. It was the tale of legends.
In actuality, the first supervillain was killed in the night by a ruthless assassin named The Anchovy Avenger.
This wasn't the last supervillain, but a few more high profile deaths and the embarassment of the first supervillain being vanquished in such an embarrassing manner meant that all of the remaining supers registered themselves secretly with the Government. Even the supervillains registered. All of it was conducted in secret. As far as the public knew, supervillains were actually villianous, and superheroes were virtuous. At one point, that might have been true.
“Don't worry, this is all sanctioned.” Jane says.
“Shield is such a lame power.” Kandi declares. She flings her shield at Jane, but Jane shoots forth a burst of flames to propel herself in the air.
“Yeah. You should have been made leader, anyway.”
“I'm definitely the better performer, but with my name and Primary's silly sense of humour? I'm forever cast as a sidekick.” Kandi telekinetically pulls her shield forward as Jane lands. The shield smacks Jane in the back of her head. It's a move that wouldn't be effective if the fight wasn't perfectly chreographed.
In the distance, Penny and Mary—or Sword and Wildflame—are locked in a similar battle. They took their jobs seriously. Both of them were loudly shouting cliché catchphrases. The catchphrases weren't just for show. They were also used to telegraph moves. Dying as a super was nearly impossible, but getting caught off guard could still hurt. Nobody cared about the sideshow, so Kandi and Jane regularly engaged in out-of-character banter.
“My boyfriend almost discovered my identity because of that.” Jane confesses. She had been spending more time with Mary outside of work. Super duos typically avoided each other outside of work, but Mary and Jane were a rare exception. This was dangerous. They wouldn't be recognized individually, but place the two of them in a room together and it was easy to picture them wearing spandex and eye masks. Kandi considered her partner as more of a coworker than a friend, so she was never at risk of being spotted with Penny.
During the battle, Jane tells her friend about a man named "Alibi". He's another super, but he never fights crime openly. Jane isn't even sure that Alibi was a 'he' at all. He's unsanctioned, so he isn't contracted by the government. Superheroes get paid via their alter identities, whereas supervillains sometimes 'get away' with a bunch of money or property while the government "generously" reimburses the victim. Instead, Alibi makes his living by providing superheroes and supervillains with an alibi. He can arrange for you to appear elsewhere while you're with someone who suspects you of being a super. Alibi is a powerful shapeshifter, and he is very thorough. Kandi would describe him as being 'method'. Kandi's alter ego is as a B-list actress. The lessons she got for the big screen helped her convincingly fake her superhero battles, and her physical prowess means she can do her own stunts as long as she doesn't go too overboard. Jane tells Kandi that she only needed to provide Alibi with the details of her next mission, and Alibi would handle it for her. On paper, it was unofficial and highly illegal. In practice, Alibi was used fairly regularly among those in the know. He was even rumored to be officially sanctioned. The penalties for revealing one's secret identity were mostly there to prevent *deliberate* revelations. As far as the public knew, super villains went after the families of revealed superheroes because that's what villains *do*. It fit the false narrative, and it also served as an easy threat.
“There's only one snag. You have to tell him everything about you. He can only copy someone if he knows everything. He told me it's a limitation of his power. You'll understand if you ever meet him. Don't worry, though! He definitely has clearance for it! Alibi even mentioned something that I didn't know!”
“Like what?” Kandi asks.
Jane pulls Kandi into a grapple so that she's close enough to whisper. “Did you know that not all battles are faked? Some supervillains are real. Some superheroes are, too. Even the Cage isn't entirely smoke and mirrors. The supervillains who didn't register are just locked up in there and left to rot.”
Kandi didn't know this, but she had suspected it. “Isn't that a good thing, though? The supervillains who are locked up are *actual* criminals, right? The first supervillain was real enough. New laws had to be written to cover crimes committed with super powers. If people are out there using superpowers to commit real crimes, maybe it's for the best. There are worse things than the Cage.”
“I guess you're right. Alibi mentioned that he helps out the unsanctioned supers, too. Even the villains.”
“Really? Well, I guess they have a lot more to lose if their identity was exposed.”
“That's not all. The worst—”
Jane cuts her sentence short. Penny, in her disguise as Sword, shouted the word "justice" in the middle of her monologue. That's the signal to wrap things up.
“It's been fun!” Kandi says as she headbutts her friend in the nose.
Jane collapses backward and pretends to struggle on the ground as Kandi deploys the supercuffs. “See you next Wednesday!”
---
To be continued.... | >!Sorry for bad english.!<
"This night, someone sent us a rare photo : someone escaping the Wayne mansion in the night. After analysis, it was concluded that Batman was this person, raising a lot of questions. Are Batman and Bruced Wayne making out in the manor ? Or is it Batman and Alfred ?"
The monitor yells at me as the man draped in dark looks at me expectantly.
"So, the plan is to fake this for how long ?"
"Five months."
"It's a bit long, I'll need some compensation."
"Everything you need, as long as Bruce Wayne is not compromised."
I nodded.
&#x200B;
"Breaking news, star superhero Batman admits being in a relationship with Bruce Waynes. We have Jim Gordon. Officer, did you know anything about that ?"
"Now that it's public, we can safely reveal some informations we had. The main thing we knew was that Batman lived in the Wayne mansion."
"My god they were roommates."
"... Yes."
&#x200B;
*Five months later.*
"Breaking news : after what seemed to be the perfect love story, Batman and Bruce Wayne publicly announce their break-up. Millions of fans all around the world cry, but the bilionaire reassures us : "We are not totally breaking up, mind you, it's just that a public relation like that is not something in which we can be confortable. Batman will forever stay a friend, to me and to all Gotham." After this declaration, the internet has gone wild with dra..."
"So, can I copy the Justice League files ?"
"As I said, you didn't compromise Bruce Wayne, you can take everything you want..."
"Thank you sir."
And with only a handbag, I sneaked out of the batcave, taking the form of Batman to sneak in a dark, dark alley.
"Huh, at least you're still there." I whispered to my old bike while taking a more confortable form. "I'm going back into business, and nothing will ever be able to stop me now. How nice." | |
[WP] You know the secret identity of every hero and villain, How? They show you, as your a shapeshifter employed to impersonate them so both identities can be seen at the same place, same time. However none know your true identity. | My family distanced themselves from me when they realized that I wasn’t like any of them. My peers left me when they found out what I could do. I sought medical treatment and went to renowned doctors under confidentiality, getting surgery done.
They grew right back.
They alway do.
I’ve used up all my resources to get myself on either team but I can always feel my body sliding back towards the line. I became a homeless bum, my body begging and pleading to continue the fight to live, while desperately fought against it. I despised my current situation. I hated what I was just like everyone’s disgust for me. I loathed my body, it’s grotesque appearance.
I tried to kill myself.
Drowning, cyanide, fire, stabbing, gunshots, overdose, being beaten, everything. I haven’t finished the list yet but I’m pretty sure there’s something out there that can end me.
It wasn’t until I fell to my death from a skyscraper — and climbed out of the morgue that I ran into someone who was probably feared more than me.
Apple Cider, the female who walks a murderous path, killing people who so much as crosses her path. We crossed paths, our eyes meeting and my head was decapitated right on the spot.
And then it grew back . . . just like that.
I didn’t even fall. Her eyes had widened with surprise and as I stood before her, she gleefully took my life over and over until dawn was approaching. I had already resigned myself to a life of solitary confinement, so it was a bit of a shock when she sighed with content and dragged my reanimating carcass into a nearby building.
“Is that him?” A voice asked in the darkness.
“Don’t you mean her?” Another voice, a female, corrected.
“Does it matter?” The first voice responded.
“Quiet,” Apple Cider ordered. She set me up in a chair and pushed it forward until it met a table, then left me. A moment later, the lights came to life and I got my first good look at the villains the world thought had died. “Say hello to your . . . personal investors.”
“You are the one, correct?” the villain known as Tectonic, controller of rock and minerals, asked.
“The one who?” I asked, tired from my body’s healing.
“The one who lives,” the villain called Warp Drive, the one who can open portals and wormholes, answered. “The one who doesn’t die.”
“No that’s Private Zombie,” I reply. “He seems to die like it’s his favorite thing to do.”
“Don’t play games boy, girl, whatever you are,” the villainess Ph. D demanded. “We can make your life a living hell if we so much as desire.”
“Lady, you’d be doing me a service if you did that,” I grinned at her. “Nowadays I don’t feel to much of anything so your torturous games would be enjoyable. Do your best to kill me, permanently, or else I’ll kill you the same way you tried to kill me.”
“Well that’s the thing,” the invisible villainess called Polly answered. She was a poltergeist type of villain, who had tentacles sprouting from her back from a supposed infiltrator had reported. “We need you to die in our place, specifically by Apple Cider’s hand.”
“Come again?” I asked.
“Look, we’re middle aged, practically old timers,” Tectonic sighed. “We can’t keep up with the spirited new heroes but we don’t want to spend the rest of our lives underground, rotting like a corpse.”
“You want a way out?” I came to understand. And suddenly, that pissed me off. They wanted something I wanted: LIFE. and they wanted to use me to get that. “You want a way out after you snuffed the lives of thousands of people?!”
“The delight of crime just isn’t there anymore,” another villain shrugged.
“I’m sure you never enjoyed it,” I said to him personally, my arms crossed.
He smiled softly since his identity was pretty much the easiest anyone could recognize. He was formerly known as Superior, who helped everybody and fought every villain with every cell in his body . . . until a citizen he saved said that another hero was her favorite and that Superior was inferior. That became his new moniker, Inferior, after he was mocked endlessly by his peers and citizens and his path to crime was fueled by his rage.
“So can you help us?” yet another villain requested. He was Father Time, the first ever villain. This guy . . . this guy was on another level entirely. If he showed up anywhere, people hoped he was just there to watch. People didn’t exactly know what his power was, but ideas ranged from controlling time itself to being a simple recruiter and getting new villains.
“Would this make me a villain if I accept?” I asked back, meeting his eyes with my own.
“That’s up to you,” he answered softly, “but I want you to know this conversation won’t stop until we convince you.” | Well — it was stupid, mighty fugging stupid. But what could I do?
It was once in a zillion lifetime opportunity!
I couldn't resist.
So when Superman, aka the MOST powerful superhero, came to me and asked me to help him out with his big problems in his 'supposedly' simpler life while he scrambles off to yet another intergalactic war, I just said yes.
"Clark Kent, huh," I nodded my head as I went through his fact sheet. "Nondescript Reporter. Huh. Daily Planet. Uh-huh." I read it all.
"For a month, Nate," he told me. "Just to keep my life moving. I can be gone for a little longer."
"I will you owe you a big one," he said to me as he got up and shook hands with me.
I don't do long term assignments but when I checked the last page and saw ...
Well, that was my biggest mistake; I should have backed out right then.
But I didn't, and I ended up playing the life of Clark Kent which invariably mean spending time with Louis Laine, you know, the usual stuff — going out on dates with her, gifts and all, but while I have rules when it comes to what limits you can go up to — this time I screwed up — screwed up mighty big time.
Last night, after the surprise dinner, and the bubbly Champagne, and a dram of Jack Daniels, I couldn't help but kiss her.
The Kiss lasted for a second, or it lasted for eternity? I couldn't tell — so amazing was the kiss. Somehow I got into my senses, and before things could get any hotter, I left.
But here lies in the problem.
Since the last kiss, Louis Laine is constantly seeking me out while I am trying to stay miles away from her. And even though I have succeeded until now but it is only three days into my job and still four weeks to go before the Superman returns and the contracts ends!
I know I have already crossed the lines, walked across the boundary of the professional and ethical boundaries. Still, now I'm in this big soup which can result in making me an enemy number of Superman.
Something no mortal man would ever want to do. | |
[WP] You know the secret identity of every hero and villain, How? They show you, as your a shapeshifter employed to impersonate them so both identities can be seen at the same place, same time. However none know your true identity. | Most of the city was unaware that half the time "night light" was out on the city it was me. (I mean come on what kind of a name is night light).
Little old me, when I changed into him somehow I got his powers as well. Not that he knows this of course, I was very very good at just being the non evil super villan part of his identity.
To be fair I was board super super board! That was untill she came up to me. I'm not sure how she heard about me. I don't advertise. That would be stupid.
She asks to meet in a small coffee shop. Which is kind of smart but she still doesn't get my real face. No one does!
To meet her I tap a young man on the shoulder who I randomly see on the train. Instantly I absorb his memories as well as his image. His pain is amence. For the first time ever I feel sorry for someone. Everything in his life has gone wrong.
But right now that really doesn't matter I need to meet the lady. If it's who i think it is then my life just got interesting at last.
It is. She sitting right there in a booth. The vinyl seat cracked and broken. Like Tom's (the boys) thoughts.
I need to stop thinking about him. Except I can't because I am him. She looks up hopeful as I apear to recognise her. Slide into to the booth opposite her. Nodding to her. She just passes me an envelope and leaves. Patting me on the shoulder as she does.
Instantly I absorb her essence, and I know who she is. Exactly who I expected her to be. Oh the job. It was wonderful and she was paying. Oh she was paying alot!
But something was nagging me. The form I was in at the moment. His thoughts where all about a bridge.
Oh!
The last who just touched me evidently gave me her powers as well if I turn into her. As she can fly.
I could save him. But that's not the jobs she's given me.
Over 2 million pounds and a possibility of more?
Or
Save this one random human Tom?
No contest.... | Well — it was stupid, mighty fugging stupid. But what could I do?
It was once in a zillion lifetime opportunity!
I couldn't resist.
So when Superman, aka the MOST powerful superhero, came to me and asked me to help him out with his big problems in his 'supposedly' simpler life while he scrambles off to yet another intergalactic war, I just said yes.
"Clark Kent, huh," I nodded my head as I went through his fact sheet. "Nondescript Reporter. Huh. Daily Planet. Uh-huh." I read it all.
"For a month, Nate," he told me. "Just to keep my life moving. I can be gone for a little longer."
"I will you owe you a big one," he said to me as he got up and shook hands with me.
I don't do long term assignments but when I checked the last page and saw ...
Well, that was my biggest mistake; I should have backed out right then.
But I didn't, and I ended up playing the life of Clark Kent which invariably mean spending time with Louis Laine, you know, the usual stuff — going out on dates with her, gifts and all, but while I have rules when it comes to what limits you can go up to — this time I screwed up — screwed up mighty big time.
Last night, after the surprise dinner, and the bubbly Champagne, and a dram of Jack Daniels, I couldn't help but kiss her.
The Kiss lasted for a second, or it lasted for eternity? I couldn't tell — so amazing was the kiss. Somehow I got into my senses, and before things could get any hotter, I left.
But here lies in the problem.
Since the last kiss, Louis Laine is constantly seeking me out while I am trying to stay miles away from her. And even though I have succeeded until now but it is only three days into my job and still four weeks to go before the Superman returns and the contracts ends!
I know I have already crossed the lines, walked across the boundary of the professional and ethical boundaries. Still, now I'm in this big soup which can result in making me an enemy number of Superman.
Something no mortal man would ever want to do. | |
[WP] You know the secret identity of every hero and villain, How? They show you, as your a shapeshifter employed to impersonate them so both identities can be seen at the same place, same time. However none know your true identity. | \*warning: Violence, depression, and religious symbology\*
&#x200B;
It all started in 1965.
Im a shapeshifter, due to this i can live as long as I want. I can change my appearance, voice, everything about me bends to my will. I am not sure as to why, no one now-a-days knows why we have powers still. In 1954, I got married to the love of my life. We had two kids, Jaxxon and Andrew(both of whom have passed to to old age, the only thing we know about powers is that they are not heredical) whom we both raised together, Until 1965. They were born two years apart, Jaxxon in 1955, and Andrew in 1957.
In 1964, I received a summons by the U.S. Airforce. I assumed they were attempting to recruit me, it was not uncommon for them to attempt to recruit people in this manor. By the time I arrived, I knew something was off. The receptionist had me sit in a room that had only chairs, a table, and a TV. This event changed my life.
I had lived for 300 years at this point, no one had found out my secret. So when the secretary of defence walked in, I knew something had been leaked. They turned on the screen, and entered a strange black rectangular box(I know it is now called a VHS, vintage right?, but back then they were not a thing) that appears to have something recorded on it. It was me, the recording was me shapeshifting to get away from a sticky situation I had found myself in.
Then he asked me, "lets cut the bullshit. How can you change your appearance at will?"
The only response I could muster was a mumble of pure terror. He told me to visit him next year in a top secret military base called Groom Lake. For the rest of that year I was heavily monitored, I couldn't leave my house due to paranoia.
When the time had come to visit him, I told my wife i had a business trip down in nevada. She wished me luck and i boarded a plane to Nevada. the entire flight I wondered what would happen. When I arrived in nevada, I went straight to groom lake. He was waiting.
He told me that for a long time I was to stay at groom lake, or all my family would be killed. My wife could come live with me, I was happy about that but then came the worse news. My kids were to be taken from me. I asked why, and he explained that they were going to be placed with someone the military trusted and were to be monitored. I had no option to refuse.
My wife was summoned to groom lake, she was confused. She had no idea what was going on. She had no clue as to why we were there. We were given a place to live near town. She wondered as to why the kids were not allowed to stay with us, all I could say was that the couldn't. After a heated debate, I broke, I explained everything. She embraced me gently, tears in her eyes, and Said" We will get through this together. We will se the kids again." It was the only hope I had.
As the days past, my wife became more, and more distant, as if she was slowly losing her sanity. She lost her kids, and her husband was found to be a shapeshifting monster. All I could do was watch as her mind began to break. At night, she would sometimes call out the kids names, curse me for bringing this upon her, or cursing herself for not being able to do anything. All this time I was being poked and prodded by the people at groom lake, trying to figure out how i worked.
All I could do during these days was get probed, and return home to find a broken wife. Something had to be done. I knew what had to be done. I was just to weak to do it.
After five years of this, my wife had began to lose it all. All the suffering and trauma had gotten to her. She lost her mind, and began to live like she was without a soul. She began to ignore me, I knew what had to be done.
One last time, I suggested we pray together for forgiveness and repentance. It was the last time she agreed to do something with me. As she closed her eyes, I morphed myself around her. I restricted her oxygen so she would slowly suffocate. And then i began to speak as though I was the Lord taking her away from this world, to heaven.
"Oh my child, what terrible things had come upon you, May the Lord God have mercy on your soul. Come home, to where you belong." As I uttered those words, i began to cry (I mean i would have if I had eyes at the time). She fell asleep, and never woke up. That day, they had left the door open at groom lake. I decided to just leave, they had nothing they could take away from me that wasn't already gone. As i walked away, no one stopped me.
I made a vow that no person with powers identity be found again.
\-u/Poperson13
&#x200B;
Thanks for reading, please tell me if im shit! and how i may improve as a writer! Also please ask if something is unclear and i'll try to explain it. This story is him reminiscing about his past, its now 2113 A.D. in his world.
Edit#001 - Fixed footnote | Well — it was stupid, mighty fugging stupid. But what could I do?
It was once in a zillion lifetime opportunity!
I couldn't resist.
So when Superman, aka the MOST powerful superhero, came to me and asked me to help him out with his big problems in his 'supposedly' simpler life while he scrambles off to yet another intergalactic war, I just said yes.
"Clark Kent, huh," I nodded my head as I went through his fact sheet. "Nondescript Reporter. Huh. Daily Planet. Uh-huh." I read it all.
"For a month, Nate," he told me. "Just to keep my life moving. I can be gone for a little longer."
"I will you owe you a big one," he said to me as he got up and shook hands with me.
I don't do long term assignments but when I checked the last page and saw ...
Well, that was my biggest mistake; I should have backed out right then.
But I didn't, and I ended up playing the life of Clark Kent which invariably mean spending time with Louis Laine, you know, the usual stuff — going out on dates with her, gifts and all, but while I have rules when it comes to what limits you can go up to — this time I screwed up — screwed up mighty big time.
Last night, after the surprise dinner, and the bubbly Champagne, and a dram of Jack Daniels, I couldn't help but kiss her.
The Kiss lasted for a second, or it lasted for eternity? I couldn't tell — so amazing was the kiss. Somehow I got into my senses, and before things could get any hotter, I left.
But here lies in the problem.
Since the last kiss, Louis Laine is constantly seeking me out while I am trying to stay miles away from her. And even though I have succeeded until now but it is only three days into my job and still four weeks to go before the Superman returns and the contracts ends!
I know I have already crossed the lines, walked across the boundary of the professional and ethical boundaries. Still, now I'm in this big soup which can result in making me an enemy number of Superman.
Something no mortal man would ever want to do. | |
[WP] You know the secret identity of every hero and villain, How? They show you, as your a shapeshifter employed to impersonate them so both identities can be seen at the same place, same time. However none know your true identity. | This is being written from the road. Or the park. Maybe the train station. Where specifically I am is not important. What is important to know is that I'm writing as a fugitive of a war between the so-called Heroes and Villains. Both sides just want to control the world for themselves. I realized this long ago. For the superheroes and the supervillains, the end goal is the same. The only real difference is patience; the heroes have played their role well, slowly gaining the trust of the people they "protect" while they maneuver the politics to gain more and more direct control. The villains lack that patience and instead seize power with physical or psychological force. The dispute between heroes and villains isn't between good and evil but rather law and chaos.
Two things prevent the dispute from escalating into full-on war. The first is humanity-at-large. The superhuman population is not large, maybe as many as 6,000 world wide; maybe 25 total are strong enough in their powers to gain global attention. Super powers are usually pretty limited in scope, and most of the people born with them are still vulnerable to bullets. And for the handful of superhumans with bulletproof hides, there isn't really a defense to being dissolved at the molecular level by a nuclear blast. A superspeeder might be able to run to minimum safe distance if they can get going a few seconds before detonation. Might.
The second thing is me. Humanity-at-large always polls negatively towards shapeshifters, and I'm the only known superhuman who can perfectly shift into other humans. In what can only be called a new Mutually Assured Destruction, the heroes and villains have always both been afraid to grant me full membership. Both sides believe that the other would expose my powers to humanity-at-large. And so, the most unified action taken in the history of superhumanity was a hush campaign to erase all evidence of my existence. But my power was useful to both sides, and so they left me alive and sent me into hiding to be called out whenever they needed a body double.
Occasionally, I would need to spend time filling in for an alter ego. It took a lot of work and dedication to memorize enough information to pass myself off as another person for days and weeks at a time. And so I know a lot of things about dozens of members of the superhuman community, Hero or Villain alike. When the Hero & Villain show needs to pause, I am the curtain that is closed during intermission.
I know who they hide as in plain sight. I can reveal the secret identity for every single one of them. I know the floor plan for every secret lair and every hidden headquarters. I know every private detail; who has a secret family, how each takes their coffee. I know birthdays, addresses, personal cell phone numbers, even license plates in some cases.
I also know that I resent being locked away. I know I hate spending my life pretending to be my jailors. I know that I'll never forgive my fellow superhumans for killing my family and burning my childhood home; for forcing me to watch as a space rock the size of a school bus was redirected into my home town, destroying it entirely. For years, I have known that they plan to destroy me with just as little compassion as soon as I stop being useful. But the superhumans took everything and gave me a reason to destroy them in return.
My time has come. The dispute is still hidden from the view of humanity-at-large, but it is growing. The villains have successfully overthrown a handful of national governments and intercontinental businesses. The heroes have been granted command of more than a few governments, and even a respectable number of troops and weapons. The remaining free peoples are getting suspicious, and therein lies the key to my revenge.
I've escaped my prison, and am taking what I know to someone that can put it in the mind of everyone. To let these superhumans know that they aren't gods. I don't care if the rest of the species turns on me and destroys me. The Heroes, the Villians, they both had a fair chance to include me in their plans, to make me a part of what they were trying to do. But now, I'm doing to the superhumans as they did unto me. They destroyed my life, my world, and my identity. In return, I will open myself up like the curtains that I've been used as to reveal to a suspicious humanity what I have known for years. I will destroy the facade of superhumanity and leave their world a smoldering, wrecked crater. | Well — it was stupid, mighty fugging stupid. But what could I do?
It was once in a zillion lifetime opportunity!
I couldn't resist.
So when Superman, aka the MOST powerful superhero, came to me and asked me to help him out with his big problems in his 'supposedly' simpler life while he scrambles off to yet another intergalactic war, I just said yes.
"Clark Kent, huh," I nodded my head as I went through his fact sheet. "Nondescript Reporter. Huh. Daily Planet. Uh-huh." I read it all.
"For a month, Nate," he told me. "Just to keep my life moving. I can be gone for a little longer."
"I will you owe you a big one," he said to me as he got up and shook hands with me.
I don't do long term assignments but when I checked the last page and saw ...
Well, that was my biggest mistake; I should have backed out right then.
But I didn't, and I ended up playing the life of Clark Kent which invariably mean spending time with Louis Laine, you know, the usual stuff — going out on dates with her, gifts and all, but while I have rules when it comes to what limits you can go up to — this time I screwed up — screwed up mighty big time.
Last night, after the surprise dinner, and the bubbly Champagne, and a dram of Jack Daniels, I couldn't help but kiss her.
The Kiss lasted for a second, or it lasted for eternity? I couldn't tell — so amazing was the kiss. Somehow I got into my senses, and before things could get any hotter, I left.
But here lies in the problem.
Since the last kiss, Louis Laine is constantly seeking me out while I am trying to stay miles away from her. And even though I have succeeded until now but it is only three days into my job and still four weeks to go before the Superman returns and the contracts ends!
I know I have already crossed the lines, walked across the boundary of the professional and ethical boundaries. Still, now I'm in this big soup which can result in making me an enemy number of Superman.
Something no mortal man would ever want to do. | |
[WP] You know the secret identity of every hero and villain, How? They show you, as your a shapeshifter employed to impersonate them so both identities can be seen at the same place, same time. However none know your true identity. | Most of the city was unaware that half the time "night light" was out on the city it was me. (I mean come on what kind of a name is night light).
Little old me, when I changed into him somehow I got his powers as well. Not that he knows this of course, I was very very good at just being the non evil super villan part of his identity.
To be fair I was board super super board! That was untill she came up to me. I'm not sure how she heard about me. I don't advertise. That would be stupid.
She asks to meet in a small coffee shop. Which is kind of smart but she still doesn't get my real face. No one does!
To meet her I tap a young man on the shoulder who I randomly see on the train. Instantly I absorb his memories as well as his image. His pain is amence. For the first time ever I feel sorry for someone. Everything in his life has gone wrong.
But right now that really doesn't matter I need to meet the lady. If it's who i think it is then my life just got interesting at last.
It is. She sitting right there in a booth. The vinyl seat cracked and broken. Like Tom's (the boys) thoughts.
I need to stop thinking about him. Except I can't because I am him. She looks up hopeful as I apear to recognise her. Slide into to the booth opposite her. Nodding to her. She just passes me an envelope and leaves. Patting me on the shoulder as she does.
Instantly I absorb her essence, and I know who she is. Exactly who I expected her to be. Oh the job. It was wonderful and she was paying. Oh she was paying alot!
But something was nagging me. The form I was in at the moment. His thoughts where all about a bridge.
Oh!
The last who just touched me evidently gave me her powers as well if I turn into her. As she can fly.
I could save him. But that's not the jobs she's given me.
Over 2 million pounds and a possibility of more?
Or
Save this one random human Tom?
No contest.... | My family distanced themselves from me when they realized that I wasn’t like any of them. My peers left me when they found out what I could do. I sought medical treatment and went to renowned doctors under confidentiality, getting surgery done.
They grew right back.
They alway do.
I’ve used up all my resources to get myself on either team but I can always feel my body sliding back towards the line. I became a homeless bum, my body begging and pleading to continue the fight to live, while desperately fought against it. I despised my current situation. I hated what I was just like everyone’s disgust for me. I loathed my body, it’s grotesque appearance.
I tried to kill myself.
Drowning, cyanide, fire, stabbing, gunshots, overdose, being beaten, everything. I haven’t finished the list yet but I’m pretty sure there’s something out there that can end me.
It wasn’t until I fell to my death from a skyscraper — and climbed out of the morgue that I ran into someone who was probably feared more than me.
Apple Cider, the female who walks a murderous path, killing people who so much as crosses her path. We crossed paths, our eyes meeting and my head was decapitated right on the spot.
And then it grew back . . . just like that.
I didn’t even fall. Her eyes had widened with surprise and as I stood before her, she gleefully took my life over and over until dawn was approaching. I had already resigned myself to a life of solitary confinement, so it was a bit of a shock when she sighed with content and dragged my reanimating carcass into a nearby building.
“Is that him?” A voice asked in the darkness.
“Don’t you mean her?” Another voice, a female, corrected.
“Does it matter?” The first voice responded.
“Quiet,” Apple Cider ordered. She set me up in a chair and pushed it forward until it met a table, then left me. A moment later, the lights came to life and I got my first good look at the villains the world thought had died. “Say hello to your . . . personal investors.”
“You are the one, correct?” the villain known as Tectonic, controller of rock and minerals, asked.
“The one who?” I asked, tired from my body’s healing.
“The one who lives,” the villain called Warp Drive, the one who can open portals and wormholes, answered. “The one who doesn’t die.”
“No that’s Private Zombie,” I reply. “He seems to die like it’s his favorite thing to do.”
“Don’t play games boy, girl, whatever you are,” the villainess Ph. D demanded. “We can make your life a living hell if we so much as desire.”
“Lady, you’d be doing me a service if you did that,” I grinned at her. “Nowadays I don’t feel to much of anything so your torturous games would be enjoyable. Do your best to kill me, permanently, or else I’ll kill you the same way you tried to kill me.”
“Well that’s the thing,” the invisible villainess called Polly answered. She was a poltergeist type of villain, who had tentacles sprouting from her back from a supposed infiltrator had reported. “We need you to die in our place, specifically by Apple Cider’s hand.”
“Come again?” I asked.
“Look, we’re middle aged, practically old timers,” Tectonic sighed. “We can’t keep up with the spirited new heroes but we don’t want to spend the rest of our lives underground, rotting like a corpse.”
“You want a way out?” I came to understand. And suddenly, that pissed me off. They wanted something I wanted: LIFE. and they wanted to use me to get that. “You want a way out after you snuffed the lives of thousands of people?!”
“The delight of crime just isn’t there anymore,” another villain shrugged.
“I’m sure you never enjoyed it,” I said to him personally, my arms crossed.
He smiled softly since his identity was pretty much the easiest anyone could recognize. He was formerly known as Superior, who helped everybody and fought every villain with every cell in his body . . . until a citizen he saved said that another hero was her favorite and that Superior was inferior. That became his new moniker, Inferior, after he was mocked endlessly by his peers and citizens and his path to crime was fueled by his rage.
“So can you help us?” yet another villain requested. He was Father Time, the first ever villain. This guy . . . this guy was on another level entirely. If he showed up anywhere, people hoped he was just there to watch. People didn’t exactly know what his power was, but ideas ranged from controlling time itself to being a simple recruiter and getting new villains.
“Would this make me a villain if I accept?” I asked back, meeting his eyes with my own.
“That’s up to you,” he answered softly, “but I want you to know this conversation won’t stop until we convince you.” | |
[WP] You know the secret identity of every hero and villain, How? They show you, as your a shapeshifter employed to impersonate them so both identities can be seen at the same place, same time. However none know your true identity. | \*warning: Violence, depression, and religious symbology\*
&#x200B;
It all started in 1965.
Im a shapeshifter, due to this i can live as long as I want. I can change my appearance, voice, everything about me bends to my will. I am not sure as to why, no one now-a-days knows why we have powers still. In 1954, I got married to the love of my life. We had two kids, Jaxxon and Andrew(both of whom have passed to to old age, the only thing we know about powers is that they are not heredical) whom we both raised together, Until 1965. They were born two years apart, Jaxxon in 1955, and Andrew in 1957.
In 1964, I received a summons by the U.S. Airforce. I assumed they were attempting to recruit me, it was not uncommon for them to attempt to recruit people in this manor. By the time I arrived, I knew something was off. The receptionist had me sit in a room that had only chairs, a table, and a TV. This event changed my life.
I had lived for 300 years at this point, no one had found out my secret. So when the secretary of defence walked in, I knew something had been leaked. They turned on the screen, and entered a strange black rectangular box(I know it is now called a VHS, vintage right?, but back then they were not a thing) that appears to have something recorded on it. It was me, the recording was me shapeshifting to get away from a sticky situation I had found myself in.
Then he asked me, "lets cut the bullshit. How can you change your appearance at will?"
The only response I could muster was a mumble of pure terror. He told me to visit him next year in a top secret military base called Groom Lake. For the rest of that year I was heavily monitored, I couldn't leave my house due to paranoia.
When the time had come to visit him, I told my wife i had a business trip down in nevada. She wished me luck and i boarded a plane to Nevada. the entire flight I wondered what would happen. When I arrived in nevada, I went straight to groom lake. He was waiting.
He told me that for a long time I was to stay at groom lake, or all my family would be killed. My wife could come live with me, I was happy about that but then came the worse news. My kids were to be taken from me. I asked why, and he explained that they were going to be placed with someone the military trusted and were to be monitored. I had no option to refuse.
My wife was summoned to groom lake, she was confused. She had no idea what was going on. She had no clue as to why we were there. We were given a place to live near town. She wondered as to why the kids were not allowed to stay with us, all I could say was that the couldn't. After a heated debate, I broke, I explained everything. She embraced me gently, tears in her eyes, and Said" We will get through this together. We will se the kids again." It was the only hope I had.
As the days past, my wife became more, and more distant, as if she was slowly losing her sanity. She lost her kids, and her husband was found to be a shapeshifting monster. All I could do was watch as her mind began to break. At night, she would sometimes call out the kids names, curse me for bringing this upon her, or cursing herself for not being able to do anything. All this time I was being poked and prodded by the people at groom lake, trying to figure out how i worked.
All I could do during these days was get probed, and return home to find a broken wife. Something had to be done. I knew what had to be done. I was just to weak to do it.
After five years of this, my wife had began to lose it all. All the suffering and trauma had gotten to her. She lost her mind, and began to live like she was without a soul. She began to ignore me, I knew what had to be done.
One last time, I suggested we pray together for forgiveness and repentance. It was the last time she agreed to do something with me. As she closed her eyes, I morphed myself around her. I restricted her oxygen so she would slowly suffocate. And then i began to speak as though I was the Lord taking her away from this world, to heaven.
"Oh my child, what terrible things had come upon you, May the Lord God have mercy on your soul. Come home, to where you belong." As I uttered those words, i began to cry (I mean i would have if I had eyes at the time). She fell asleep, and never woke up. That day, they had left the door open at groom lake. I decided to just leave, they had nothing they could take away from me that wasn't already gone. As i walked away, no one stopped me.
I made a vow that no person with powers identity be found again.
\-u/Poperson13
&#x200B;
Thanks for reading, please tell me if im shit! and how i may improve as a writer! Also please ask if something is unclear and i'll try to explain it. This story is him reminiscing about his past, its now 2113 A.D. in his world.
Edit#001 - Fixed footnote | My family distanced themselves from me when they realized that I wasn’t like any of them. My peers left me when they found out what I could do. I sought medical treatment and went to renowned doctors under confidentiality, getting surgery done.
They grew right back.
They alway do.
I’ve used up all my resources to get myself on either team but I can always feel my body sliding back towards the line. I became a homeless bum, my body begging and pleading to continue the fight to live, while desperately fought against it. I despised my current situation. I hated what I was just like everyone’s disgust for me. I loathed my body, it’s grotesque appearance.
I tried to kill myself.
Drowning, cyanide, fire, stabbing, gunshots, overdose, being beaten, everything. I haven’t finished the list yet but I’m pretty sure there’s something out there that can end me.
It wasn’t until I fell to my death from a skyscraper — and climbed out of the morgue that I ran into someone who was probably feared more than me.
Apple Cider, the female who walks a murderous path, killing people who so much as crosses her path. We crossed paths, our eyes meeting and my head was decapitated right on the spot.
And then it grew back . . . just like that.
I didn’t even fall. Her eyes had widened with surprise and as I stood before her, she gleefully took my life over and over until dawn was approaching. I had already resigned myself to a life of solitary confinement, so it was a bit of a shock when she sighed with content and dragged my reanimating carcass into a nearby building.
“Is that him?” A voice asked in the darkness.
“Don’t you mean her?” Another voice, a female, corrected.
“Does it matter?” The first voice responded.
“Quiet,” Apple Cider ordered. She set me up in a chair and pushed it forward until it met a table, then left me. A moment later, the lights came to life and I got my first good look at the villains the world thought had died. “Say hello to your . . . personal investors.”
“You are the one, correct?” the villain known as Tectonic, controller of rock and minerals, asked.
“The one who?” I asked, tired from my body’s healing.
“The one who lives,” the villain called Warp Drive, the one who can open portals and wormholes, answered. “The one who doesn’t die.”
“No that’s Private Zombie,” I reply. “He seems to die like it’s his favorite thing to do.”
“Don’t play games boy, girl, whatever you are,” the villainess Ph. D demanded. “We can make your life a living hell if we so much as desire.”
“Lady, you’d be doing me a service if you did that,” I grinned at her. “Nowadays I don’t feel to much of anything so your torturous games would be enjoyable. Do your best to kill me, permanently, or else I’ll kill you the same way you tried to kill me.”
“Well that’s the thing,” the invisible villainess called Polly answered. She was a poltergeist type of villain, who had tentacles sprouting from her back from a supposed infiltrator had reported. “We need you to die in our place, specifically by Apple Cider’s hand.”
“Come again?” I asked.
“Look, we’re middle aged, practically old timers,” Tectonic sighed. “We can’t keep up with the spirited new heroes but we don’t want to spend the rest of our lives underground, rotting like a corpse.”
“You want a way out?” I came to understand. And suddenly, that pissed me off. They wanted something I wanted: LIFE. and they wanted to use me to get that. “You want a way out after you snuffed the lives of thousands of people?!”
“The delight of crime just isn’t there anymore,” another villain shrugged.
“I’m sure you never enjoyed it,” I said to him personally, my arms crossed.
He smiled softly since his identity was pretty much the easiest anyone could recognize. He was formerly known as Superior, who helped everybody and fought every villain with every cell in his body . . . until a citizen he saved said that another hero was her favorite and that Superior was inferior. That became his new moniker, Inferior, after he was mocked endlessly by his peers and citizens and his path to crime was fueled by his rage.
“So can you help us?” yet another villain requested. He was Father Time, the first ever villain. This guy . . . this guy was on another level entirely. If he showed up anywhere, people hoped he was just there to watch. People didn’t exactly know what his power was, but ideas ranged from controlling time itself to being a simple recruiter and getting new villains.
“Would this make me a villain if I accept?” I asked back, meeting his eyes with my own.
“That’s up to you,” he answered softly, “but I want you to know this conversation won’t stop until we convince you.” | |
[WP] You know the secret identity of every hero and villain, How? They show you, as your a shapeshifter employed to impersonate them so both identities can be seen at the same place, same time. However none know your true identity. | This is being written from the road. Or the park. Maybe the train station. Where specifically I am is not important. What is important to know is that I'm writing as a fugitive of a war between the so-called Heroes and Villains. Both sides just want to control the world for themselves. I realized this long ago. For the superheroes and the supervillains, the end goal is the same. The only real difference is patience; the heroes have played their role well, slowly gaining the trust of the people they "protect" while they maneuver the politics to gain more and more direct control. The villains lack that patience and instead seize power with physical or psychological force. The dispute between heroes and villains isn't between good and evil but rather law and chaos.
Two things prevent the dispute from escalating into full-on war. The first is humanity-at-large. The superhuman population is not large, maybe as many as 6,000 world wide; maybe 25 total are strong enough in their powers to gain global attention. Super powers are usually pretty limited in scope, and most of the people born with them are still vulnerable to bullets. And for the handful of superhumans with bulletproof hides, there isn't really a defense to being dissolved at the molecular level by a nuclear blast. A superspeeder might be able to run to minimum safe distance if they can get going a few seconds before detonation. Might.
The second thing is me. Humanity-at-large always polls negatively towards shapeshifters, and I'm the only known superhuman who can perfectly shift into other humans. In what can only be called a new Mutually Assured Destruction, the heroes and villains have always both been afraid to grant me full membership. Both sides believe that the other would expose my powers to humanity-at-large. And so, the most unified action taken in the history of superhumanity was a hush campaign to erase all evidence of my existence. But my power was useful to both sides, and so they left me alive and sent me into hiding to be called out whenever they needed a body double.
Occasionally, I would need to spend time filling in for an alter ego. It took a lot of work and dedication to memorize enough information to pass myself off as another person for days and weeks at a time. And so I know a lot of things about dozens of members of the superhuman community, Hero or Villain alike. When the Hero & Villain show needs to pause, I am the curtain that is closed during intermission.
I know who they hide as in plain sight. I can reveal the secret identity for every single one of them. I know the floor plan for every secret lair and every hidden headquarters. I know every private detail; who has a secret family, how each takes their coffee. I know birthdays, addresses, personal cell phone numbers, even license plates in some cases.
I also know that I resent being locked away. I know I hate spending my life pretending to be my jailors. I know that I'll never forgive my fellow superhumans for killing my family and burning my childhood home; for forcing me to watch as a space rock the size of a school bus was redirected into my home town, destroying it entirely. For years, I have known that they plan to destroy me with just as little compassion as soon as I stop being useful. But the superhumans took everything and gave me a reason to destroy them in return.
My time has come. The dispute is still hidden from the view of humanity-at-large, but it is growing. The villains have successfully overthrown a handful of national governments and intercontinental businesses. The heroes have been granted command of more than a few governments, and even a respectable number of troops and weapons. The remaining free peoples are getting suspicious, and therein lies the key to my revenge.
I've escaped my prison, and am taking what I know to someone that can put it in the mind of everyone. To let these superhumans know that they aren't gods. I don't care if the rest of the species turns on me and destroys me. The Heroes, the Villians, they both had a fair chance to include me in their plans, to make me a part of what they were trying to do. But now, I'm doing to the superhumans as they did unto me. They destroyed my life, my world, and my identity. In return, I will open myself up like the curtains that I've been used as to reveal to a suspicious humanity what I have known for years. I will destroy the facade of superhumanity and leave their world a smoldering, wrecked crater. | My family distanced themselves from me when they realized that I wasn’t like any of them. My peers left me when they found out what I could do. I sought medical treatment and went to renowned doctors under confidentiality, getting surgery done.
They grew right back.
They alway do.
I’ve used up all my resources to get myself on either team but I can always feel my body sliding back towards the line. I became a homeless bum, my body begging and pleading to continue the fight to live, while desperately fought against it. I despised my current situation. I hated what I was just like everyone’s disgust for me. I loathed my body, it’s grotesque appearance.
I tried to kill myself.
Drowning, cyanide, fire, stabbing, gunshots, overdose, being beaten, everything. I haven’t finished the list yet but I’m pretty sure there’s something out there that can end me.
It wasn’t until I fell to my death from a skyscraper — and climbed out of the morgue that I ran into someone who was probably feared more than me.
Apple Cider, the female who walks a murderous path, killing people who so much as crosses her path. We crossed paths, our eyes meeting and my head was decapitated right on the spot.
And then it grew back . . . just like that.
I didn’t even fall. Her eyes had widened with surprise and as I stood before her, she gleefully took my life over and over until dawn was approaching. I had already resigned myself to a life of solitary confinement, so it was a bit of a shock when she sighed with content and dragged my reanimating carcass into a nearby building.
“Is that him?” A voice asked in the darkness.
“Don’t you mean her?” Another voice, a female, corrected.
“Does it matter?” The first voice responded.
“Quiet,” Apple Cider ordered. She set me up in a chair and pushed it forward until it met a table, then left me. A moment later, the lights came to life and I got my first good look at the villains the world thought had died. “Say hello to your . . . personal investors.”
“You are the one, correct?” the villain known as Tectonic, controller of rock and minerals, asked.
“The one who?” I asked, tired from my body’s healing.
“The one who lives,” the villain called Warp Drive, the one who can open portals and wormholes, answered. “The one who doesn’t die.”
“No that’s Private Zombie,” I reply. “He seems to die like it’s his favorite thing to do.”
“Don’t play games boy, girl, whatever you are,” the villainess Ph. D demanded. “We can make your life a living hell if we so much as desire.”
“Lady, you’d be doing me a service if you did that,” I grinned at her. “Nowadays I don’t feel to much of anything so your torturous games would be enjoyable. Do your best to kill me, permanently, or else I’ll kill you the same way you tried to kill me.”
“Well that’s the thing,” the invisible villainess called Polly answered. She was a poltergeist type of villain, who had tentacles sprouting from her back from a supposed infiltrator had reported. “We need you to die in our place, specifically by Apple Cider’s hand.”
“Come again?” I asked.
“Look, we’re middle aged, practically old timers,” Tectonic sighed. “We can’t keep up with the spirited new heroes but we don’t want to spend the rest of our lives underground, rotting like a corpse.”
“You want a way out?” I came to understand. And suddenly, that pissed me off. They wanted something I wanted: LIFE. and they wanted to use me to get that. “You want a way out after you snuffed the lives of thousands of people?!”
“The delight of crime just isn’t there anymore,” another villain shrugged.
“I’m sure you never enjoyed it,” I said to him personally, my arms crossed.
He smiled softly since his identity was pretty much the easiest anyone could recognize. He was formerly known as Superior, who helped everybody and fought every villain with every cell in his body . . . until a citizen he saved said that another hero was her favorite and that Superior was inferior. That became his new moniker, Inferior, after he was mocked endlessly by his peers and citizens and his path to crime was fueled by his rage.
“So can you help us?” yet another villain requested. He was Father Time, the first ever villain. This guy . . . this guy was on another level entirely. If he showed up anywhere, people hoped he was just there to watch. People didn’t exactly know what his power was, but ideas ranged from controlling time itself to being a simple recruiter and getting new villains.
“Would this make me a villain if I accept?” I asked back, meeting his eyes with my own.
“That’s up to you,” he answered softly, “but I want you to know this conversation won’t stop until we convince you.” | |
[WP] You know the secret identity of every hero and villain, How? They show you, as your a shapeshifter employed to impersonate them so both identities can be seen at the same place, same time. However none know your true identity. | The first two that came to me I thought was just a coincident. Like I run and own a multinational company chances are two people would be connected by my company. But when the fifth came to hire me as a shapeshifter it started getting insane. Now I've been hired by almost all superheros and villains beside one of each and all of them are directly connected to my business or me. Almost 70 percent of them are my employees and the other thirty are either business partners or close friends. I do find it funny when I have a meeting schedule with a superhero and a super villain and they both cancel because of something coming up and then I can almost always flick in the news and see them fighting on 5th Avenue. Now it's time to meet the last super villain and then later today the last super hero.
I was not expecting the two biggest names in super hero and villain work to be these two. My own to children my daughter Suzy is the world's most feared villain and her twin brother Lucifer the most revered hero. Now I have the awkward decision to make tell them who I am and what to do or to pretend to be them. Though I could just ground them for all enernity like come on you are both twelve, didnt tell me you had powers, and started trying to destroy and or save the world. Though it may be problematic with my wife being each other theirs head assistant. | *** written on mobile at work so sorry for the grammar issues**
It was a rough start in the business. I learned quickly that trying to threaten my potential clients was wrong way to do things. But after I got my first client things became easier. The word of mouth spread quickly among the superheros first. At first just captain M then Mr. incredible wanted to have easy outs as well. Business really took of after the first time I got kidnapped by a super villain. Doctor Sin was his name. Boy was he surprised when he found out I wasn’t The Valkeri. The madman almost killed me on the spot. But when we got to talking he realized that I could be his perfect alaby. After the doctor; terrorman wanted to use my services as well. It’s been 10 years since I started and I’ve been booked solid for appearances at all of the major crimes and hero approximation events 2 years in advance. At this point Im wishing I had cloning as well as shape shifting as my power. If I could make a couple more of me it would really help the business grow faster. | |
[WP] You know the secret identity of every hero and villain, How? They show you, as your a shapeshifter employed to impersonate them so both identities can be seen at the same place, same time. However none know your true identity. | \[CW\] Non-graphic mention of suicide
In the everlasting fight between good and evil, between hero and villain, between justice and lawlessness, very little is considered neutral ground. Nobody is ever really, entirely safe from having some C-tier baddie flung through a highrise window, destroying their property and sending a cavalcade of glass shards at, and sometimes through, a day-to-day salaryman trying to enjoy TV. Naturally, Valiant, the company that sponsors a majority of the heroes, will cover the medical bills, along with an additional four or five digit bonus entitled “Damages”. Some would call that hush money, and they wouldn’t be entirely wrong.
Only fifteen years ago, a twenty year old man named Nadir Wasem tragically passed away. The young metahuman, born with what was thought to be Grade 2 mimicry, left a suicide note behind, citing a long-standing untreated depression, overwhelming stress, and a chronic pain in the lower spine that made it impossible for him to focus on the hours upon hours of work piled on him by his metahuman scholarship program. His apartment was cleaned to perfection, handwritten notes for pre-medical classes lined his work table, and his cat, an animal the landlady was quite fond of, was likewise missing. The police did not spend long searching for Nadir - scouring the neighborhoods of New York for the body of a young immigrant did not appeal to them, and they presumed the local homeless populace would eventually turn up with the man’s corpse.
This was not the case, nor was it possible. Unlike most other deaths, Nadir’s didn’t yield a body, but instead a new, faceless, nameless man who disappeared into the shadows of the tight, linear alleyways. The man who was, at birth, presumed a mediocre metahuman with a power that aligned more closely with pranks and party tricks than heroism and villainy, was actually a prime specimen of a mimic. Capable of morphing into anyone, assimilating their personality, vocal quirks, and mannerisms from extremely limited observation, Nadir hid his abilities and bided his time until he could vanish.
Karim, the Faceless Man, built his name quickly - as quickly as a clandestine neutral party that doesn’t exist in the public eye can, anyway - he cooperated with crime lords to hide murders, to testify against claims of corruption, and to morph into family and lovers and undermine members of the local office. Then, he worked with desperate police detectives, finding and bringing them evidence they could never even hope to find. No matter the job, he was always a different person, with a different voice, tattoos and scars in new places every time - for a long while, nobody even knew it was one man playing both sides.
Ilana found him first. She made a big mistake, taking on a villain while under the influence of a less-than-legal narcotic. Blundering through the fight, and failing to control her own power levels, she left many more people injured than the Maniac would have alone - ironically, injuring civilians was never part of his MO. While Starwoman could rebuild her reputation, perhaps with a heart-wrenching overcoming of addiction story, Illana Alois couldn’t risk any connections being drawn. Her construction company was doing incredibly well, especially now that they had been contracted to fix Starwoman’s mess.
As it goes, a hefty wad of cash changed hands, and for several weeks, Ilana was quite notably found in her office at the same exact time as Starwoman made her apologetic statements to the press. It was an easy job, as Karim found Ilana to be an exceedingly dull, uninteresting person whose “real” life’s passions consisted of amassing wealth and reinvesting it. On the contrary, the Faceless Man was quite creative with how he spent his generous paycheck. Using some underground connections, he was able to install a heartbeat detector in his body, and he set up a secure web server in a location that not even the most experienced wanderer of NYC’s streets could easily locate. With that in place, he began to collect every piece of information he could about the biggest heroes, and villains, around.
After Ilana, Karim turned body-doubling into a full time job, replacing mild mannered business people as they morphed into massive demons and wreaked havoc, replacing eccentric millionaires as they donned arbitrarily animal-shaped suits and beat up poor thieves in the night, and replacing famous opera singers as they took off to steal the most guarded items in the world for their own sick pleasures. With each contract, his great list of buried, hidden sins grew, and his own persona slowly slipped away, his own mannerisms and tone replaced with the most favorable elements of those he saw in others.
Over the years he had done the job, he had become a perfectly charismatic amalgam - he even kept a pet face he occasionally returned to when he wandered the streets. It was perfectly imperfect, an attractive young middle-eastern man whose face was as handsome as it could be without seeming unusual or artificial. Sexual conquests proved easy for him, as did stumbling upon party scenes and all the deviously appealing horrors that came with it. Karim began to succumb to weekly drunkenness, a reliance on party drugs to enjoy life, and an ever present gnawing lust for new faces, new, strange people to absorb.
Life seemed too routine, too predictable, too easy to model. After the greatest three years of his life, and a two-year period of constant dissatisfaction, he had averaged to complete hollowness.
(I’m a little busy today, but I might continue this story a little later) | *** written on mobile at work so sorry for the grammar issues**
It was a rough start in the business. I learned quickly that trying to threaten my potential clients was wrong way to do things. But after I got my first client things became easier. The word of mouth spread quickly among the superheros first. At first just captain M then Mr. incredible wanted to have easy outs as well. Business really took of after the first time I got kidnapped by a super villain. Doctor Sin was his name. Boy was he surprised when he found out I wasn’t The Valkeri. The madman almost killed me on the spot. But when we got to talking he realized that I could be his perfect alaby. After the doctor; terrorman wanted to use my services as well. It’s been 10 years since I started and I’ve been booked solid for appearances at all of the major crimes and hero approximation events 2 years in advance. At this point Im wishing I had cloning as well as shape shifting as my power. If I could make a couple more of me it would really help the business grow faster. |
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