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[WP][NSFW]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well. | Craig was a honest and hardworking man from San Francisco. He worked at an innovative biotech company called Dendrix Inc. He developed plans for a ring that can wirelessly transmit neurological impulses from his finger to anyone's finger that he is focusing on. He recently got out of a long term relationship with his coworker, Jessica, after he caught her and his boss, Luke, in bed together at Craig's apartment. Jessica then moved in with Luke and he promoted her to be his second hand at Dendrix. Craig decided to not let relationships get in the way of his work as he had done a lot to get where he was at Dendrix.
He composed himself as he went to meet with Luke and Jessica to pitch his framework for the neurotransmitter ring. Craig walked into the meeting room and Luke immediately tried the, "You've got something on your shirt." gag. Craig said, "Sir, I'm not looking down again. I've got groundbreaking designs I need to show you two." Craig then explained all the benefits of his neurotransmitter ring and the many future implications that his wireless neurological signaller has. Jessica seemed engaged, and realized how profitable this breakthrough was. Luke raised an eyebrow and scoffed, "We can't profit on fairy tales. We aren't funding anything of yours. Come back when you have something tangible."
7 months later, Craig made another meeting with Jessica and Luke. Craig stated, "Ok, it wasn't easy, but I've finally made the neurotransmitter ring." Luke chuckled, "Haha, let's see how well this ring works." Craig stood up on the table and slid his pants past his knees and revealed the ring was around his cock. He then stared directly at Jessica and began to beat off. As he was pumping his penis, she got so wet she couldn't take it any longer. She climbed up on the table and slid her pants down and Craig slid his cock in her ass. As he was pounding her, Craig explained, "You see Luke...*gasp*...the ring doesn't just work on your finger...ooo...like I said....uuhhh...it has many other implications." Craig then pulled out of Jessica and splattered cum all over Luke. "You've got something on your shirt." Luke was speechless for once. Craig looked down and saw his ring had disappeared. Craig laughed, "Hahaha it looks like I lost something inside Jessica. Aw well, it's only a replica, it doesn't actually function. If you want a real ring you can buy one next year, as they are currently being mass produced by my new biotech company!" Craig, the honest and hardworking man from San Francisco, zipped up his pants and strolled out the door.
Edit: removed typo | It was a strange world now, of delusion and mystery
no one knew in my belt there lay quite a history
A fleeting wish had become true.
power which no man had ever knew
Here I was, in my sitting room.
a storm to brew my thoughts askew
on that night with the magic lamp
if only i had kept it in my pants
now a man far past my prime
if i could go back in time
and undo the change on the drop of a dime
given a chance to enact some good
perhaps Id considered I certainl-ooh *OooHhh* **mmmm**
| |
[WP][NSFW]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well. | The dating pool is drying up and it stands to reason. Dating is all about seeking a connection with another person. It’s wanting and being wanted by another wandering soul. Fooling ourselves into believing that we don’t actually have to walk this world alone. It’s a longing within all of us. Ever since this shit started happening, the most desirable bachelorettes no longer feel that emptiness inside of themselves. They don’t need to be reassured. They no longer seek outdated connections.
All that’s left is the undesirables. The people that nobody cares to think twice about, the unattractive, the inexperienced, and the people like me.
I’m an attractive man. Before the big change, I did quite well for myself in the dating world. I pulled them in faster than you could say: “Here’s some money for an Uber.”
I’ve never felt lonelier than when it all changed. On my loneliest days, I’d give five different women an orgasm, but nobody would ever give me a hand. I had been a selfish lover, not one worth remembering. The few times I had cared enough to love, I would become jealous and ugly.
Nobody, even the girls who had loved me, wanted me in their “banks.” I wasn’t worthy of a withdrawal.
I would’ve fucked myself into an early coffin, if she hadn’t come along. She was so beautiful. She didn’t need me, but she wanted me. Not for sex, but for a hand to hold. I was a face that would wrinkle and age alongside her own.
We fucked, of course, but it was from a place of pity. It just wasn’t her prerogative. Everyday I’d watch her climax. Everyday I was reminded of the fact that my girlfriend was more desirable than me. Everyday a random guy would give her an orgasm, and it would come as another reminder of how unnecessary I was. Everyday the jealousy I had hoped to shed was growing stronger.
It wasn’t her fault, and it wasn’t going to change. I could no longer allow my ego to hurt women. I couldn’t tear this beautiful creature down with my own insecurities.
She’s blissfully single to this day but she’ll never know what loneliness is, because she’ll always be on my mind.
| It was the 20th of March, 1992. Sharon Stone sat smugly in her apartment building, her legs tightly crossed. She lit a cigarette.
Her latest film, Basic Instinct, had just released. She presently was awaiting the inevitable critical acclaim that would accompany the presence of her newest work. She looked up at the ceiling of her dark apartment, lit only by the flame of her cigarette, and smiled. Her career was picking up traction.
She could feel it now. The lights of the cameras, the yells of the fans. She was feeling something else, too. Suddenly, her whole body was shaking uncontrollably. She was rocked by a fierce tremor vibrating all throughout herself, a vibration the likes of which she had never felt before. The feeling she was experiencing was at first a mixture of great joy and satisfaction, but it was quickly devolving into a pain, the likes of which she had never felt before, a pain that felt greater than herself, consuming her, the tidal wave of woe washing over her.
_______________________________________________
"Pedestrians were suddenly shocked to see an explosion rock our very own residential district! The sound could be heard for miles. A search for bodies is ongoing, but so far none have been found. More at 5."
| |
[WP][NSFW]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well. | John whipped out his cock, closed his eyes and imagined Lisa putting it in her mouth. Getting aroused, he started masturbating furiously.
Across town Lisa felt a strange tingling on her lips. Weird, she thought. Then came the sharp pain in her nose, like someone beat her hard with the side of their fist. For a full 12 seconds her lips and nose were beaten like a boxing bag, until it suddenly stopped and she felt an urgent need to brush her teeth. | Dalton Rodriguez often felt...strange. He didn't know what it was or why he'd felt that way, but it was happening more and more often. You see, Dalton was an actor. Previously, he was an adorable child star, then eventually played in cliche-ridden teen dramas, which is where these odd sensations first began fruition, though assumed they would pass in time, though now, as he transitioned into adult stardom, they showed an overwhelming prevalence.
He starred in a three-hour-long movie epic, *The Herd of Secrets*. The film was well-received and heavily-praised, which delighted Dalton. Accolades were plentiful, and much of the cast and crew for the film attended the Academy Awards together. The film had several nominations, Best Original Screenplay, Best Actress, Best Original Score, as well as a nomination of Dalton's very own: Best Actor. Seated next to his leading lady of the film, Lynnette Erickson, he felt the strangeness. It was a commercial break, so they headed into the lobby with a cash bar to grab some food and a drink.
"What would you like, Dalton?" Lynnette asked. He couldn't stop picturing her naked. Not that he hadn't seen her naked before, as they had a lovemaking scene together in the film, but this was different. There was no protective guard around her genitals to avoid this scene unfolding into pornography; he imagined himself with her engaged in actual stimulation, and he could actually feel it. He had no idea why. Though he and Lynnette were a couple on screen, they were simply friends and colleagues in reality. Dalton hadn't really desired to date her, but he viewed his interpretations otherwise.
"Are you flirting with me?" he asked.
"What?" Lynnette replied. Her voice grew vulnerable, and her eyes welled up with embarrassment. "No I..." She then began sobbing loudly, and ran off, but returned a few seconds later. "I know you don't like me, but I need to use the bathroom, so help me unzip." So he did, but still felt strange doing this, and she continued onto the bathroom, holding the unzipped portion of her dress in place.
"Mr. Rodriguez!" the barmaid exclaimed. "I've been a fan of you ever since *Homeroom Gossip*! What can I get for you today?"
"Uh..." then a tingling formed in his lower region, and his drink was the last thing on his mind. "Uh, uh, uh, UHHHH..." he moaned. His legs vibrated on his barstool. "Oh God, yes, Lynnette, YES! Right there...Oooh, yeah. Come on baby, that's the ticket. Mmm, good, yes, uh-huh, uh, uh uhhhhhhhhh! Aaaaaah....woooo." He sighed and whipped a drip of sweat off his brow. Then he looked over at Lynnette's drink. "I'll have a Roy Rogers," he said. Before long, Lynnette returned, looking pleased.
"Zip me up," she told him with a smile. So he did. "I'm sorry about earlier, but I feel much better now. And I see you've decided on a drink. Smart choice. Now let's cheers. To the Academy!"
"To the Academy!" he echoed. And they drank together. | |
[WP][NSFW]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well. | Breaking news!
The World Olympic Committee is meeting to discuss possible solutions to the new paradigm destroying competitive sports in advance of this year's Rio Olympics. Sporting events at all levels have been marred by strategic abuse of the phenomenon now known as "Extra Sensual Perception". When ESP hit two years ago book makers and franchise owners scrambled to find skilled masturbaters to help tip the balance with focused ESP attacks on key team members at crucial moments. Peyton Manning said the amount of attacks during the Superbowl game was particularly distressing as his brother Eli was also a victim of false positives watching it at home with his family. (Although Manning did admit that ESP added some much needed edge to Celine Dion's halftime show)
The committee has already ruled out all water based sports after a recent spate of drownings. There are plans for all javelins to be corked and for weightlifters to be supported by spotters and harnesses. A number of delegates have suggested that athletes compete anonymously wearing full body burkas but this would be complicated by numerous countries that have banned the wearing of hijab. A spokesperson for the committee said that they would work tirelessly to find a solution despite being plagued by the increased ESP attacks attributed to the misguided decision to publicise the meeting.
And in ongoing news the Surgeon General has repeated pleas for people to stop quote "putting Google into Google" by thinking about themselves when they masturbate as this creates an infinite feedback loop resulting in a messy vegetative state in which the replenishment of fluids is virtually impossible. | Dalton Rodriguez often felt...strange. He didn't know what it was or why he'd felt that way, but it was happening more and more often. You see, Dalton was an actor. Previously, he was an adorable child star, then eventually played in cliche-ridden teen dramas, which is where these odd sensations first began fruition, though assumed they would pass in time, though now, as he transitioned into adult stardom, they showed an overwhelming prevalence.
He starred in a three-hour-long movie epic, *The Herd of Secrets*. The film was well-received and heavily-praised, which delighted Dalton. Accolades were plentiful, and much of the cast and crew for the film attended the Academy Awards together. The film had several nominations, Best Original Screenplay, Best Actress, Best Original Score, as well as a nomination of Dalton's very own: Best Actor. Seated next to his leading lady of the film, Lynnette Erickson, he felt the strangeness. It was a commercial break, so they headed into the lobby with a cash bar to grab some food and a drink.
"What would you like, Dalton?" Lynnette asked. He couldn't stop picturing her naked. Not that he hadn't seen her naked before, as they had a lovemaking scene together in the film, but this was different. There was no protective guard around her genitals to avoid this scene unfolding into pornography; he imagined himself with her engaged in actual stimulation, and he could actually feel it. He had no idea why. Though he and Lynnette were a couple on screen, they were simply friends and colleagues in reality. Dalton hadn't really desired to date her, but he viewed his interpretations otherwise.
"Are you flirting with me?" he asked.
"What?" Lynnette replied. Her voice grew vulnerable, and her eyes welled up with embarrassment. "No I..." She then began sobbing loudly, and ran off, but returned a few seconds later. "I know you don't like me, but I need to use the bathroom, so help me unzip." So he did, but still felt strange doing this, and she continued onto the bathroom, holding the unzipped portion of her dress in place.
"Mr. Rodriguez!" the barmaid exclaimed. "I've been a fan of you ever since *Homeroom Gossip*! What can I get for you today?"
"Uh..." then a tingling formed in his lower region, and his drink was the last thing on his mind. "Uh, uh, uh, UHHHH..." he moaned. His legs vibrated on his barstool. "Oh God, yes, Lynnette, YES! Right there...Oooh, yeah. Come on baby, that's the ticket. Mmm, good, yes, uh-huh, uh, uh uhhhhhhhhh! Aaaaaah....woooo." He sighed and whipped a drip of sweat off his brow. Then he looked over at Lynnette's drink. "I'll have a Roy Rogers," he said. Before long, Lynnette returned, looking pleased.
"Zip me up," she told him with a smile. So he did. "I'm sorry about earlier, but I feel much better now. And I see you've decided on a drink. Smart choice. Now let's cheers. To the Academy!"
"To the Academy!" he echoed. And they drank together. | |
[WP][NSFW]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well. | Jimmy had his tablet in one had and his prized flesh-light in the other. The tablet was displaying a homemade video Jimmy's ex-lover made. His ex-lover even went as far as making a porn name in the video. He referred to himself as "Cumoshi". In the video, he was giving Jimmy jack off instructions and Jimmy followed them word for word. Jimmy even choked himself according to Cumoshi's directions. In fact, by the look on Jimmy's face, he was leading up to the best orgasm in his porn filled life.
Meanwhile, Akio, or "Cumoshi", was in the middle of a game of basketball. Being a 6'2 male he was the power forward in this competitive five on five game. In the role of a power forward, Akio was mainly responsible for rebounding and providing a physical presence in the game. Currently, Akio was being backed down by the recreational leagues best center. In the process of this Akio was suddenly becoming erect. The process caused the Center to run right by him. Akio felt as if his dick was being sucked right there in front of crowd of familys. Akio went up to the ref and called a timeout. He then instructed Tim to take his place.
On the bench, Akio was feeling himself near orgasm. His three teammates looked at him and yelled for a doctor as they mistook what he was feeling for pain. Akio gripped the chairs next to him as hard as he could. His teammates on the bench noticed his erection, and gave each other an exchange of looks. Akio's breaths were quick and loud enough for his teammates to hear. The doctor approaching Akio noticed this, and sped up his pace to get to Akio. The doctor then got to Akio just as his penis saturated his compression shorts in cum. Akio did his best to keep a straight face, and no one did notice what actually happened. Luckily, his recent diet resulted in very thick cum so it did not start flowing down his leg. The laws of physics were on Akio's side. Akio then made eye contact with the doctor and pointed at his ass. Motioning that he just had to shit as he shamefully got up, and walked to the restroom.
At the same time Jimmy was elated, and had decided to share this masterpiece of a video. Six months earlier Jimmy found Akio naked on top of a man named Steve. When Jimmy walked in, Akio tried to play it cool and asked Jimmy to join. However, Jimmy just stormed out the door to never speak to Akio again. Which is why, Jimmy decided to post this video on as many free porn sites as he could. Within, twenty minutes he had it live on 14.
Akio had just finished throwing away his compression shorts and was on his way back to watch his teams last game of the season. Once he got to the bench, his teammate asked, "You okay Akio?". Akio said, "Yeah. Fucking sushi man. Fucking sushi", and sat down next to him.
The view counts were now started to rise. It was up to five. Akio felt his dick get hard again. Five more views happened within a second. Akio now felt a sharp pain in his pants and let out a scream. It turns out Akio's unnamed almost magical phenomenon was known as "Khrug Curse" in Alpha Centauri. Which is why children were checked for it there. Luckily, Akio was the only human on Earth with it. It's also a good thing he was gay, but a shame he made frequent sperm donations.
Anyways, six more views stacked up. A 17 year old named Chati in Thailand just had an orgasm. However, Akio's body had no sperm to send out. Consequently, blood began to drip down his leg, and Akio screamed again even louder. A doctor was now running his way. Three more orgasm occurred and more blood was pouring out of his penis. The views were growing exponentially, and his screams escalated with it. Along with the puddle of blood on the floor.
The game was now stopped and everyone was circling Akio. Three people were on the phone ordering him emergency help. The views were at 70, and many were close to orgasm. Suddenly, Akio fainted and three simultaneous orgasms broke his urethra.
Akio would never awake from fainting and would die right there on the floor. His death unknown to this day. His sperm in donation was mutated with Khrug Curse as well, but that is a completely different story.
| Dalton Rodriguez often felt...strange. He didn't know what it was or why he'd felt that way, but it was happening more and more often. You see, Dalton was an actor. Previously, he was an adorable child star, then eventually played in cliche-ridden teen dramas, which is where these odd sensations first began fruition, though assumed they would pass in time, though now, as he transitioned into adult stardom, they showed an overwhelming prevalence.
He starred in a three-hour-long movie epic, *The Herd of Secrets*. The film was well-received and heavily-praised, which delighted Dalton. Accolades were plentiful, and much of the cast and crew for the film attended the Academy Awards together. The film had several nominations, Best Original Screenplay, Best Actress, Best Original Score, as well as a nomination of Dalton's very own: Best Actor. Seated next to his leading lady of the film, Lynnette Erickson, he felt the strangeness. It was a commercial break, so they headed into the lobby with a cash bar to grab some food and a drink.
"What would you like, Dalton?" Lynnette asked. He couldn't stop picturing her naked. Not that he hadn't seen her naked before, as they had a lovemaking scene together in the film, but this was different. There was no protective guard around her genitals to avoid this scene unfolding into pornography; he imagined himself with her engaged in actual stimulation, and he could actually feel it. He had no idea why. Though he and Lynnette were a couple on screen, they were simply friends and colleagues in reality. Dalton hadn't really desired to date her, but he viewed his interpretations otherwise.
"Are you flirting with me?" he asked.
"What?" Lynnette replied. Her voice grew vulnerable, and her eyes welled up with embarrassment. "No I..." She then began sobbing loudly, and ran off, but returned a few seconds later. "I know you don't like me, but I need to use the bathroom, so help me unzip." So he did, but still felt strange doing this, and she continued onto the bathroom, holding the unzipped portion of her dress in place.
"Mr. Rodriguez!" the barmaid exclaimed. "I've been a fan of you ever since *Homeroom Gossip*! What can I get for you today?"
"Uh..." then a tingling formed in his lower region, and his drink was the last thing on his mind. "Uh, uh, uh, UHHHH..." he moaned. His legs vibrated on his barstool. "Oh God, yes, Lynnette, YES! Right there...Oooh, yeah. Come on baby, that's the ticket. Mmm, good, yes, uh-huh, uh, uh uhhhhhhhhh! Aaaaaah....woooo." He sighed and whipped a drip of sweat off his brow. Then he looked over at Lynnette's drink. "I'll have a Roy Rogers," he said. Before long, Lynnette returned, looking pleased.
"Zip me up," she told him with a smile. So he did. "I'm sorry about earlier, but I feel much better now. And I see you've decided on a drink. Smart choice. Now let's cheers. To the Academy!"
"To the Academy!" he echoed. And they drank together. | |
[WP][NSFW]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well. | Every night. Every fucking night, I wake up with my blankets soaked. Then I go to sleep, and either after a few hours or just as I start to drift off, it happens again.
It was fun at first, knowing there was someone thinking about me. But it never fucking ends. The breaking point was when I was presenting in history and I felt that uncomfortably familiar sensation, and I don't know whether it would be worse if someone was jerking it in the bathroom by coincidence or if someone was fucking with me on purpose.
Fortunately, I know who's doing it, and one of them has a job interview tomorrow.
Saturday, 2:54 pm, I text him *stop it, or else.*
*I have no idea what you're talking about.*
*You, and all your other friends need to stop jerking it to me. You know I can feel it.*
*Hey, what I do is my business.*
*Promise you and your friends will stop, or else.*
*No.*
*Ryan, I swear to God...*
*I have to go now.*
I wait five minutes to make sure the interview starts, then I pull out a picture of Ryan from when he was on the track team. I slide my fingers into my panties, and start rubbing.
A couple minutes later, I get another text.
*Please, no. I'm at a job interview.*
*I know >:]*
*Please, you have to stop.*
*Promise you'll stop.*
*Once a week?*
*Your friends too.*
*I can't speak for them!*
*Fine. Where are you, anyway?*
*Bathroom. I'm going back in now.*
A couple minutes later, I start masturbating again. I don't get a text back for another half hour.
*Mary!!!!*
*Heheheheheh. Warn your friends, I'll cum after them too!* | Dalton Rodriguez often felt...strange. He didn't know what it was or why he'd felt that way, but it was happening more and more often. You see, Dalton was an actor. Previously, he was an adorable child star, then eventually played in cliche-ridden teen dramas, which is where these odd sensations first began fruition, though assumed they would pass in time, though now, as he transitioned into adult stardom, they showed an overwhelming prevalence.
He starred in a three-hour-long movie epic, *The Herd of Secrets*. The film was well-received and heavily-praised, which delighted Dalton. Accolades were plentiful, and much of the cast and crew for the film attended the Academy Awards together. The film had several nominations, Best Original Screenplay, Best Actress, Best Original Score, as well as a nomination of Dalton's very own: Best Actor. Seated next to his leading lady of the film, Lynnette Erickson, he felt the strangeness. It was a commercial break, so they headed into the lobby with a cash bar to grab some food and a drink.
"What would you like, Dalton?" Lynnette asked. He couldn't stop picturing her naked. Not that he hadn't seen her naked before, as they had a lovemaking scene together in the film, but this was different. There was no protective guard around her genitals to avoid this scene unfolding into pornography; he imagined himself with her engaged in actual stimulation, and he could actually feel it. He had no idea why. Though he and Lynnette were a couple on screen, they were simply friends and colleagues in reality. Dalton hadn't really desired to date her, but he viewed his interpretations otherwise.
"Are you flirting with me?" he asked.
"What?" Lynnette replied. Her voice grew vulnerable, and her eyes welled up with embarrassment. "No I..." She then began sobbing loudly, and ran off, but returned a few seconds later. "I know you don't like me, but I need to use the bathroom, so help me unzip." So he did, but still felt strange doing this, and she continued onto the bathroom, holding the unzipped portion of her dress in place.
"Mr. Rodriguez!" the barmaid exclaimed. "I've been a fan of you ever since *Homeroom Gossip*! What can I get for you today?"
"Uh..." then a tingling formed in his lower region, and his drink was the last thing on his mind. "Uh, uh, uh, UHHHH..." he moaned. His legs vibrated on his barstool. "Oh God, yes, Lynnette, YES! Right there...Oooh, yeah. Come on baby, that's the ticket. Mmm, good, yes, uh-huh, uh, uh uhhhhhhhhh! Aaaaaah....woooo." He sighed and whipped a drip of sweat off his brow. Then he looked over at Lynnette's drink. "I'll have a Roy Rogers," he said. Before long, Lynnette returned, looking pleased.
"Zip me up," she told him with a smile. So he did. "I'm sorry about earlier, but I feel much better now. And I see you've decided on a drink. Smart choice. Now let's cheers. To the Academy!"
"To the Academy!" he echoed. And they drank together. | |
[WP][NSFW]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well. | Craig was a honest and hardworking man from San Francisco. He worked at an innovative biotech company called Dendrix Inc. He developed plans for a ring that can wirelessly transmit neurological impulses from his finger to anyone's finger that he is focusing on. He recently got out of a long term relationship with his coworker, Jessica, after he caught her and his boss, Luke, in bed together at Craig's apartment. Jessica then moved in with Luke and he promoted her to be his second hand at Dendrix. Craig decided to not let relationships get in the way of his work as he had done a lot to get where he was at Dendrix.
He composed himself as he went to meet with Luke and Jessica to pitch his framework for the neurotransmitter ring. Craig walked into the meeting room and Luke immediately tried the, "You've got something on your shirt." gag. Craig said, "Sir, I'm not looking down again. I've got groundbreaking designs I need to show you two." Craig then explained all the benefits of his neurotransmitter ring and the many future implications that his wireless neurological signaller has. Jessica seemed engaged, and realized how profitable this breakthrough was. Luke raised an eyebrow and scoffed, "We can't profit on fairy tales. We aren't funding anything of yours. Come back when you have something tangible."
7 months later, Craig made another meeting with Jessica and Luke. Craig stated, "Ok, it wasn't easy, but I've finally made the neurotransmitter ring." Luke chuckled, "Haha, let's see how well this ring works." Craig stood up on the table and slid his pants past his knees and revealed the ring was around his cock. He then stared directly at Jessica and began to beat off. As he was pumping his penis, she got so wet she couldn't take it any longer. She climbed up on the table and slid her pants down and Craig slid his cock in her ass. As he was pounding her, Craig explained, "You see Luke...*gasp*...the ring doesn't just work on your finger...ooo...like I said....uuhhh...it has many other implications." Craig then pulled out of Jessica and splattered cum all over Luke. "You've got something on your shirt." Luke was speechless for once. Craig looked down and saw his ring had disappeared. Craig laughed, "Hahaha it looks like I lost something inside Jessica. Aw well, it's only a replica, it doesn't actually function. If you want a real ring you can buy one next year, as they are currently being mass produced by my new biotech company!" Craig, the honest and hardworking man from San Francisco, zipped up his pants and strolled out the door.
Edit: removed typo | Dalton Rodriguez often felt...strange. He didn't know what it was or why he'd felt that way, but it was happening more and more often. You see, Dalton was an actor. Previously, he was an adorable child star, then eventually played in cliche-ridden teen dramas, which is where these odd sensations first began fruition, though assumed they would pass in time, though now, as he transitioned into adult stardom, they showed an overwhelming prevalence.
He starred in a three-hour-long movie epic, *The Herd of Secrets*. The film was well-received and heavily-praised, which delighted Dalton. Accolades were plentiful, and much of the cast and crew for the film attended the Academy Awards together. The film had several nominations, Best Original Screenplay, Best Actress, Best Original Score, as well as a nomination of Dalton's very own: Best Actor. Seated next to his leading lady of the film, Lynnette Erickson, he felt the strangeness. It was a commercial break, so they headed into the lobby with a cash bar to grab some food and a drink.
"What would you like, Dalton?" Lynnette asked. He couldn't stop picturing her naked. Not that he hadn't seen her naked before, as they had a lovemaking scene together in the film, but this was different. There was no protective guard around her genitals to avoid this scene unfolding into pornography; he imagined himself with her engaged in actual stimulation, and he could actually feel it. He had no idea why. Though he and Lynnette were a couple on screen, they were simply friends and colleagues in reality. Dalton hadn't really desired to date her, but he viewed his interpretations otherwise.
"Are you flirting with me?" he asked.
"What?" Lynnette replied. Her voice grew vulnerable, and her eyes welled up with embarrassment. "No I..." She then began sobbing loudly, and ran off, but returned a few seconds later. "I know you don't like me, but I need to use the bathroom, so help me unzip." So he did, but still felt strange doing this, and she continued onto the bathroom, holding the unzipped portion of her dress in place.
"Mr. Rodriguez!" the barmaid exclaimed. "I've been a fan of you ever since *Homeroom Gossip*! What can I get for you today?"
"Uh..." then a tingling formed in his lower region, and his drink was the last thing on his mind. "Uh, uh, uh, UHHHH..." he moaned. His legs vibrated on his barstool. "Oh God, yes, Lynnette, YES! Right there...Oooh, yeah. Come on baby, that's the ticket. Mmm, good, yes, uh-huh, uh, uh uhhhhhhhhh! Aaaaaah....woooo." He sighed and whipped a drip of sweat off his brow. Then he looked over at Lynnette's drink. "I'll have a Roy Rogers," he said. Before long, Lynnette returned, looking pleased.
"Zip me up," she told him with a smile. So he did. "I'm sorry about earlier, but I feel much better now. And I see you've decided on a drink. Smart choice. Now let's cheers. To the Academy!"
"To the Academy!" he echoed. And they drank together. | |
[WP][NSFW]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well. | Jimmy had his tablet in one had and his prized flesh-light in the other. The tablet was displaying a homemade video Jimmy's ex-lover made. His ex-lover even went as far as making a porn name in the video. He referred to himself as "Cumoshi". In the video, he was giving Jimmy jack off instructions and Jimmy followed them word for word. Jimmy even choked himself according to Cumoshi's directions. In fact, by the look on Jimmy's face, he was leading up to the best orgasm in his porn filled life.
Meanwhile, Akio, or "Cumoshi", was in the middle of a game of basketball. Being a 6'2 male he was the power forward in this competitive five on five game. In the role of a power forward, Akio was mainly responsible for rebounding and providing a physical presence in the game. Currently, Akio was being backed down by the recreational leagues best center. In the process of this Akio was suddenly becoming erect. The process caused the Center to run right by him. Akio felt as if his dick was being sucked right there in front of crowd of familys. Akio went up to the ref and called a timeout. He then instructed Tim to take his place.
On the bench, Akio was feeling himself near orgasm. His three teammates looked at him and yelled for a doctor as they mistook what he was feeling for pain. Akio gripped the chairs next to him as hard as he could. His teammates on the bench noticed his erection, and gave each other an exchange of looks. Akio's breaths were quick and loud enough for his teammates to hear. The doctor approaching Akio noticed this, and sped up his pace to get to Akio. The doctor then got to Akio just as his penis saturated his compression shorts in cum. Akio did his best to keep a straight face, and no one did notice what actually happened. Luckily, his recent diet resulted in very thick cum so it did not start flowing down his leg. The laws of physics were on Akio's side. Akio then made eye contact with the doctor and pointed at his ass. Motioning that he just had to shit as he shamefully got up, and walked to the restroom.
At the same time Jimmy was elated, and had decided to share this masterpiece of a video. Six months earlier Jimmy found Akio naked on top of a man named Steve. When Jimmy walked in, Akio tried to play it cool and asked Jimmy to join. However, Jimmy just stormed out the door to never speak to Akio again. Which is why, Jimmy decided to post this video on as many free porn sites as he could. Within, twenty minutes he had it live on 14.
Akio had just finished throwing away his compression shorts and was on his way back to watch his teams last game of the season. Once he got to the bench, his teammate asked, "You okay Akio?". Akio said, "Yeah. Fucking sushi man. Fucking sushi", and sat down next to him.
The view counts were now started to rise. It was up to five. Akio felt his dick get hard again. Five more views happened within a second. Akio now felt a sharp pain in his pants and let out a scream. It turns out Akio's unnamed almost magical phenomenon was known as "Khrug Curse" in Alpha Centauri. Which is why children were checked for it there. Luckily, Akio was the only human on Earth with it. It's also a good thing he was gay, but a shame he made frequent sperm donations.
Anyways, six more views stacked up. A 17 year old named Chati in Thailand just had an orgasm. However, Akio's body had no sperm to send out. Consequently, blood began to drip down his leg, and Akio screamed again even louder. A doctor was now running his way. Three more orgasm occurred and more blood was pouring out of his penis. The views were growing exponentially, and his screams escalated with it. Along with the puddle of blood on the floor.
The game was now stopped and everyone was circling Akio. Three people were on the phone ordering him emergency help. The views were at 70, and many were close to orgasm. Suddenly, Akio fainted and three simultaneous orgasms broke his urethra.
Akio would never awake from fainting and would die right there on the floor. His death unknown to this day. His sperm in donation was mutated with Khrug Curse as well, but that is a completely different story.
| Y'know ive not always looked this way
you see, i was quite an attractive young woman, back when THE EVENT happened
it was strange, scientists couldnt explain it, people all over the world were reporting strange anomalous events.
feeling strange emotions
seeing things
I truly dont know what it is, or why it started, i dont think anyone does.
but they have their theories
it started one night, i was overcome with this strange feeling...
it felt disgusting and i felt some kind of spiritual violation
my body started excreting fluids that i didnt understand, i was seeing images in my head of a boy from class it was all too messed up
it traumatized me as anyone would be
i felt weak
and fell asleep
the next day at school i noticed his eyes more
noticed the way he glanced at me
and how he would try to talk to me
what the fuck was going on?!
that night, again. more excruciating sexual torment
this went on for weeks, until summer hit. i was so glad.
it was calm for some months
i could sleep and wouldnt be scared to wake up to go to school, because school was out
i stayed in mostly, talking with girlfriends on the phone
thats when the first day of school hit.
the day was normal but, that night.
so many disgusting feelings, for so long. the whole night i was awake feeling ravaged and weak
my days went on for the next months like this... sleepless and anxious
until one boy, i guess he caught me looking at him.
i had seen his face in my nightmares and was studying his eyes
he talked to me
asked me to a coffee
he wasnt like in those dreams..
maybe i could over come this
so i said yes and went along..
we talked until late, i guess he got comfortable with me
he told me how he thought of me alot
i asked him "what do you think about"
thats when i saw his eyes flicker, i swear i could feel his breath like in my dreams i got scared, hell i got fucking freaked out.
but i needed to know something, something maybe he had
i pressed him.
asking about his thoughts, his disgusting fantasy
he finally spilled when i feigned interest in something i saw in my nightmares
it was HIS fantasy i was feeling IT HAD TO BE
all of them
those disgusting boys from class.
i was stuck feeling their horrid wishes, the disgusting putrid vileness of their unevolved primal monkey brain.
it all hit me so hard
it was a tough time in my life
but as you can see, even through pain and suffering i have over come this vile nature of our world.
with the scars on my face as severe as they are, i will never be forced to endure the desires of these psychos again...
i hope one day to have a solution, but until then i will head the Centre for Women Affected by Paranormal Sexual Violation or CWAPSV
| |
[WP][NSFW]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well. | Every night. Every fucking night, I wake up with my blankets soaked. Then I go to sleep, and either after a few hours or just as I start to drift off, it happens again.
It was fun at first, knowing there was someone thinking about me. But it never fucking ends. The breaking point was when I was presenting in history and I felt that uncomfortably familiar sensation, and I don't know whether it would be worse if someone was jerking it in the bathroom by coincidence or if someone was fucking with me on purpose.
Fortunately, I know who's doing it, and one of them has a job interview tomorrow.
Saturday, 2:54 pm, I text him *stop it, or else.*
*I have no idea what you're talking about.*
*You, and all your other friends need to stop jerking it to me. You know I can feel it.*
*Hey, what I do is my business.*
*Promise you and your friends will stop, or else.*
*No.*
*Ryan, I swear to God...*
*I have to go now.*
I wait five minutes to make sure the interview starts, then I pull out a picture of Ryan from when he was on the track team. I slide my fingers into my panties, and start rubbing.
A couple minutes later, I get another text.
*Please, no. I'm at a job interview.*
*I know >:]*
*Please, you have to stop.*
*Promise you'll stop.*
*Once a week?*
*Your friends too.*
*I can't speak for them!*
*Fine. Where are you, anyway?*
*Bathroom. I'm going back in now.*
A couple minutes later, I start masturbating again. I don't get a text back for another half hour.
*Mary!!!!*
*Heheheheheh. Warn your friends, I'll cum after them too!* | Y'know ive not always looked this way
you see, i was quite an attractive young woman, back when THE EVENT happened
it was strange, scientists couldnt explain it, people all over the world were reporting strange anomalous events.
feeling strange emotions
seeing things
I truly dont know what it is, or why it started, i dont think anyone does.
but they have their theories
it started one night, i was overcome with this strange feeling...
it felt disgusting and i felt some kind of spiritual violation
my body started excreting fluids that i didnt understand, i was seeing images in my head of a boy from class it was all too messed up
it traumatized me as anyone would be
i felt weak
and fell asleep
the next day at school i noticed his eyes more
noticed the way he glanced at me
and how he would try to talk to me
what the fuck was going on?!
that night, again. more excruciating sexual torment
this went on for weeks, until summer hit. i was so glad.
it was calm for some months
i could sleep and wouldnt be scared to wake up to go to school, because school was out
i stayed in mostly, talking with girlfriends on the phone
thats when the first day of school hit.
the day was normal but, that night.
so many disgusting feelings, for so long. the whole night i was awake feeling ravaged and weak
my days went on for the next months like this... sleepless and anxious
until one boy, i guess he caught me looking at him.
i had seen his face in my nightmares and was studying his eyes
he talked to me
asked me to a coffee
he wasnt like in those dreams..
maybe i could over come this
so i said yes and went along..
we talked until late, i guess he got comfortable with me
he told me how he thought of me alot
i asked him "what do you think about"
thats when i saw his eyes flicker, i swear i could feel his breath like in my dreams i got scared, hell i got fucking freaked out.
but i needed to know something, something maybe he had
i pressed him.
asking about his thoughts, his disgusting fantasy
he finally spilled when i feigned interest in something i saw in my nightmares
it was HIS fantasy i was feeling IT HAD TO BE
all of them
those disgusting boys from class.
i was stuck feeling their horrid wishes, the disgusting putrid vileness of their unevolved primal monkey brain.
it all hit me so hard
it was a tough time in my life
but as you can see, even through pain and suffering i have over come this vile nature of our world.
with the scars on my face as severe as they are, i will never be forced to endure the desires of these psychos again...
i hope one day to have a solution, but until then i will head the Centre for Women Affected by Paranormal Sexual Violation or CWAPSV
| |
[WP][NSFW]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well. | Every night. Every fucking night, I wake up with my blankets soaked. Then I go to sleep, and either after a few hours or just as I start to drift off, it happens again.
It was fun at first, knowing there was someone thinking about me. But it never fucking ends. The breaking point was when I was presenting in history and I felt that uncomfortably familiar sensation, and I don't know whether it would be worse if someone was jerking it in the bathroom by coincidence or if someone was fucking with me on purpose.
Fortunately, I know who's doing it, and one of them has a job interview tomorrow.
Saturday, 2:54 pm, I text him *stop it, or else.*
*I have no idea what you're talking about.*
*You, and all your other friends need to stop jerking it to me. You know I can feel it.*
*Hey, what I do is my business.*
*Promise you and your friends will stop, or else.*
*No.*
*Ryan, I swear to God...*
*I have to go now.*
I wait five minutes to make sure the interview starts, then I pull out a picture of Ryan from when he was on the track team. I slide my fingers into my panties, and start rubbing.
A couple minutes later, I get another text.
*Please, no. I'm at a job interview.*
*I know >:]*
*Please, you have to stop.*
*Promise you'll stop.*
*Once a week?*
*Your friends too.*
*I can't speak for them!*
*Fine. Where are you, anyway?*
*Bathroom. I'm going back in now.*
A couple minutes later, I start masturbating again. I don't get a text back for another half hour.
*Mary!!!!*
*Heheheheheh. Warn your friends, I'll cum after them too!* | He's such a nice kid. Nice, but, well, as much as I hate to say it, ugly. Ugly as Hell. No girl would look twice at him, which is a shame because he's, well, like I said, a really nice kid. So when he started complaining that all his friends were getting their first shared 'happy-time' and he wasn't, I started to feel bad for him. Months went by and nothing. His friends were getting repeat business and not a single girl spared even a moment to think about him.
He kept getting more and more depressed and I just didn't know what else to do. I did a little Internet hunting for 'appropriate' materials and came across something that would work. It's just a good thing that people don't know who's thinking about them or what they're thinking about when it happens. I know he surfs Reddit all the time and is probably very familiar with the boy with two broken arms story... | |
[WP][NSFW]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well. | Breaking news!
The World Olympic Committee is meeting to discuss possible solutions to the new paradigm destroying competitive sports in advance of this year's Rio Olympics. Sporting events at all levels have been marred by strategic abuse of the phenomenon now known as "Extra Sensual Perception". When ESP hit two years ago book makers and franchise owners scrambled to find skilled masturbaters to help tip the balance with focused ESP attacks on key team members at crucial moments. Peyton Manning said the amount of attacks during the Superbowl game was particularly distressing as his brother Eli was also a victim of false positives watching it at home with his family. (Although Manning did admit that ESP added some much needed edge to Celine Dion's halftime show)
The committee has already ruled out all water based sports after a recent spate of drownings. There are plans for all javelins to be corked and for weightlifters to be supported by spotters and harnesses. A number of delegates have suggested that athletes compete anonymously wearing full body burkas but this would be complicated by numerous countries that have banned the wearing of hijab. A spokesperson for the committee said that they would work tirelessly to find a solution despite being plagued by the increased ESP attacks attributed to the misguided decision to publicise the meeting.
And in ongoing news the Surgeon General has repeated pleas for people to stop quote "putting Google into Google" by thinking about themselves when they masturbate as this creates an infinite feedback loop resulting in a messy vegetative state in which the replenishment of fluids is virtually impossible. | John whipped out his cock, closed his eyes and imagined Lisa putting it in her mouth. Getting aroused, he started masturbating furiously.
Across town Lisa felt a strange tingling on her lips. Weird, she thought. Then came the sharp pain in her nose, like someone beat her hard with the side of their fist. For a full 12 seconds her lips and nose were beaten like a boxing bag, until it suddenly stopped and she felt an urgent need to brush her teeth. | |
[WP][NSFW]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well. | Jimmy had his tablet in one had and his prized flesh-light in the other. The tablet was displaying a homemade video Jimmy's ex-lover made. His ex-lover even went as far as making a porn name in the video. He referred to himself as "Cumoshi". In the video, he was giving Jimmy jack off instructions and Jimmy followed them word for word. Jimmy even choked himself according to Cumoshi's directions. In fact, by the look on Jimmy's face, he was leading up to the best orgasm in his porn filled life.
Meanwhile, Akio, or "Cumoshi", was in the middle of a game of basketball. Being a 6'2 male he was the power forward in this competitive five on five game. In the role of a power forward, Akio was mainly responsible for rebounding and providing a physical presence in the game. Currently, Akio was being backed down by the recreational leagues best center. In the process of this Akio was suddenly becoming erect. The process caused the Center to run right by him. Akio felt as if his dick was being sucked right there in front of crowd of familys. Akio went up to the ref and called a timeout. He then instructed Tim to take his place.
On the bench, Akio was feeling himself near orgasm. His three teammates looked at him and yelled for a doctor as they mistook what he was feeling for pain. Akio gripped the chairs next to him as hard as he could. His teammates on the bench noticed his erection, and gave each other an exchange of looks. Akio's breaths were quick and loud enough for his teammates to hear. The doctor approaching Akio noticed this, and sped up his pace to get to Akio. The doctor then got to Akio just as his penis saturated his compression shorts in cum. Akio did his best to keep a straight face, and no one did notice what actually happened. Luckily, his recent diet resulted in very thick cum so it did not start flowing down his leg. The laws of physics were on Akio's side. Akio then made eye contact with the doctor and pointed at his ass. Motioning that he just had to shit as he shamefully got up, and walked to the restroom.
At the same time Jimmy was elated, and had decided to share this masterpiece of a video. Six months earlier Jimmy found Akio naked on top of a man named Steve. When Jimmy walked in, Akio tried to play it cool and asked Jimmy to join. However, Jimmy just stormed out the door to never speak to Akio again. Which is why, Jimmy decided to post this video on as many free porn sites as he could. Within, twenty minutes he had it live on 14.
Akio had just finished throwing away his compression shorts and was on his way back to watch his teams last game of the season. Once he got to the bench, his teammate asked, "You okay Akio?". Akio said, "Yeah. Fucking sushi man. Fucking sushi", and sat down next to him.
The view counts were now started to rise. It was up to five. Akio felt his dick get hard again. Five more views happened within a second. Akio now felt a sharp pain in his pants and let out a scream. It turns out Akio's unnamed almost magical phenomenon was known as "Khrug Curse" in Alpha Centauri. Which is why children were checked for it there. Luckily, Akio was the only human on Earth with it. It's also a good thing he was gay, but a shame he made frequent sperm donations.
Anyways, six more views stacked up. A 17 year old named Chati in Thailand just had an orgasm. However, Akio's body had no sperm to send out. Consequently, blood began to drip down his leg, and Akio screamed again even louder. A doctor was now running his way. Three more orgasm occurred and more blood was pouring out of his penis. The views were growing exponentially, and his screams escalated with it. Along with the puddle of blood on the floor.
The game was now stopped and everyone was circling Akio. Three people were on the phone ordering him emergency help. The views were at 70, and many were close to orgasm. Suddenly, Akio fainted and three simultaneous orgasms broke his urethra.
Akio would never awake from fainting and would die right there on the floor. His death unknown to this day. His sperm in donation was mutated with Khrug Curse as well, but that is a completely different story.
| John whipped out his cock, closed his eyes and imagined Lisa putting it in her mouth. Getting aroused, he started masturbating furiously.
Across town Lisa felt a strange tingling on her lips. Weird, she thought. Then came the sharp pain in her nose, like someone beat her hard with the side of their fist. For a full 12 seconds her lips and nose were beaten like a boxing bag, until it suddenly stopped and she felt an urgent need to brush her teeth. | |
[WP][NSFW]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well. | Every night. Every fucking night, I wake up with my blankets soaked. Then I go to sleep, and either after a few hours or just as I start to drift off, it happens again.
It was fun at first, knowing there was someone thinking about me. But it never fucking ends. The breaking point was when I was presenting in history and I felt that uncomfortably familiar sensation, and I don't know whether it would be worse if someone was jerking it in the bathroom by coincidence or if someone was fucking with me on purpose.
Fortunately, I know who's doing it, and one of them has a job interview tomorrow.
Saturday, 2:54 pm, I text him *stop it, or else.*
*I have no idea what you're talking about.*
*You, and all your other friends need to stop jerking it to me. You know I can feel it.*
*Hey, what I do is my business.*
*Promise you and your friends will stop, or else.*
*No.*
*Ryan, I swear to God...*
*I have to go now.*
I wait five minutes to make sure the interview starts, then I pull out a picture of Ryan from when he was on the track team. I slide my fingers into my panties, and start rubbing.
A couple minutes later, I get another text.
*Please, no. I'm at a job interview.*
*I know >:]*
*Please, you have to stop.*
*Promise you'll stop.*
*Once a week?*
*Your friends too.*
*I can't speak for them!*
*Fine. Where are you, anyway?*
*Bathroom. I'm going back in now.*
A couple minutes later, I start masturbating again. I don't get a text back for another half hour.
*Mary!!!!*
*Heheheheheh. Warn your friends, I'll cum after them too!* | John whipped out his cock, closed his eyes and imagined Lisa putting it in her mouth. Getting aroused, he started masturbating furiously.
Across town Lisa felt a strange tingling on her lips. Weird, she thought. Then came the sharp pain in her nose, like someone beat her hard with the side of their fist. For a full 12 seconds her lips and nose were beaten like a boxing bag, until it suddenly stopped and she felt an urgent need to brush her teeth. | |
[WP][NSFW]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well. | Craig was a honest and hardworking man from San Francisco. He worked at an innovative biotech company called Dendrix Inc. He developed plans for a ring that can wirelessly transmit neurological impulses from his finger to anyone's finger that he is focusing on. He recently got out of a long term relationship with his coworker, Jessica, after he caught her and his boss, Luke, in bed together at Craig's apartment. Jessica then moved in with Luke and he promoted her to be his second hand at Dendrix. Craig decided to not let relationships get in the way of his work as he had done a lot to get where he was at Dendrix.
He composed himself as he went to meet with Luke and Jessica to pitch his framework for the neurotransmitter ring. Craig walked into the meeting room and Luke immediately tried the, "You've got something on your shirt." gag. Craig said, "Sir, I'm not looking down again. I've got groundbreaking designs I need to show you two." Craig then explained all the benefits of his neurotransmitter ring and the many future implications that his wireless neurological signaller has. Jessica seemed engaged, and realized how profitable this breakthrough was. Luke raised an eyebrow and scoffed, "We can't profit on fairy tales. We aren't funding anything of yours. Come back when you have something tangible."
7 months later, Craig made another meeting with Jessica and Luke. Craig stated, "Ok, it wasn't easy, but I've finally made the neurotransmitter ring." Luke chuckled, "Haha, let's see how well this ring works." Craig stood up on the table and slid his pants past his knees and revealed the ring was around his cock. He then stared directly at Jessica and began to beat off. As he was pumping his penis, she got so wet she couldn't take it any longer. She climbed up on the table and slid her pants down and Craig slid his cock in her ass. As he was pounding her, Craig explained, "You see Luke...*gasp*...the ring doesn't just work on your finger...ooo...like I said....uuhhh...it has many other implications." Craig then pulled out of Jessica and splattered cum all over Luke. "You've got something on your shirt." Luke was speechless for once. Craig looked down and saw his ring had disappeared. Craig laughed, "Hahaha it looks like I lost something inside Jessica. Aw well, it's only a replica, it doesn't actually function. If you want a real ring you can buy one next year, as they are currently being mass produced by my new biotech company!" Craig, the honest and hardworking man from San Francisco, zipped up his pants and strolled out the door.
Edit: removed typo | John whipped out his cock, closed his eyes and imagined Lisa putting it in her mouth. Getting aroused, he started masturbating furiously.
Across town Lisa felt a strange tingling on her lips. Weird, she thought. Then came the sharp pain in her nose, like someone beat her hard with the side of their fist. For a full 12 seconds her lips and nose were beaten like a boxing bag, until it suddenly stopped and she felt an urgent need to brush her teeth. | |
[WP][NSFW]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well. | Jimmy had his tablet in one had and his prized flesh-light in the other. The tablet was displaying a homemade video Jimmy's ex-lover made. His ex-lover even went as far as making a porn name in the video. He referred to himself as "Cumoshi". In the video, he was giving Jimmy jack off instructions and Jimmy followed them word for word. Jimmy even choked himself according to Cumoshi's directions. In fact, by the look on Jimmy's face, he was leading up to the best orgasm in his porn filled life.
Meanwhile, Akio, or "Cumoshi", was in the middle of a game of basketball. Being a 6'2 male he was the power forward in this competitive five on five game. In the role of a power forward, Akio was mainly responsible for rebounding and providing a physical presence in the game. Currently, Akio was being backed down by the recreational leagues best center. In the process of this Akio was suddenly becoming erect. The process caused the Center to run right by him. Akio felt as if his dick was being sucked right there in front of crowd of familys. Akio went up to the ref and called a timeout. He then instructed Tim to take his place.
On the bench, Akio was feeling himself near orgasm. His three teammates looked at him and yelled for a doctor as they mistook what he was feeling for pain. Akio gripped the chairs next to him as hard as he could. His teammates on the bench noticed his erection, and gave each other an exchange of looks. Akio's breaths were quick and loud enough for his teammates to hear. The doctor approaching Akio noticed this, and sped up his pace to get to Akio. The doctor then got to Akio just as his penis saturated his compression shorts in cum. Akio did his best to keep a straight face, and no one did notice what actually happened. Luckily, his recent diet resulted in very thick cum so it did not start flowing down his leg. The laws of physics were on Akio's side. Akio then made eye contact with the doctor and pointed at his ass. Motioning that he just had to shit as he shamefully got up, and walked to the restroom.
At the same time Jimmy was elated, and had decided to share this masterpiece of a video. Six months earlier Jimmy found Akio naked on top of a man named Steve. When Jimmy walked in, Akio tried to play it cool and asked Jimmy to join. However, Jimmy just stormed out the door to never speak to Akio again. Which is why, Jimmy decided to post this video on as many free porn sites as he could. Within, twenty minutes he had it live on 14.
Akio had just finished throwing away his compression shorts and was on his way back to watch his teams last game of the season. Once he got to the bench, his teammate asked, "You okay Akio?". Akio said, "Yeah. Fucking sushi man. Fucking sushi", and sat down next to him.
The view counts were now started to rise. It was up to five. Akio felt his dick get hard again. Five more views happened within a second. Akio now felt a sharp pain in his pants and let out a scream. It turns out Akio's unnamed almost magical phenomenon was known as "Khrug Curse" in Alpha Centauri. Which is why children were checked for it there. Luckily, Akio was the only human on Earth with it. It's also a good thing he was gay, but a shame he made frequent sperm donations.
Anyways, six more views stacked up. A 17 year old named Chati in Thailand just had an orgasm. However, Akio's body had no sperm to send out. Consequently, blood began to drip down his leg, and Akio screamed again even louder. A doctor was now running his way. Three more orgasm occurred and more blood was pouring out of his penis. The views were growing exponentially, and his screams escalated with it. Along with the puddle of blood on the floor.
The game was now stopped and everyone was circling Akio. Three people were on the phone ordering him emergency help. The views were at 70, and many were close to orgasm. Suddenly, Akio fainted and three simultaneous orgasms broke his urethra.
Akio would never awake from fainting and would die right there on the floor. His death unknown to this day. His sperm in donation was mutated with Khrug Curse as well, but that is a completely different story.
| I'm a bot, *bleep*, *bloop*. Someone has linked to this thread from another place on reddit:
- [/r/shittywritingprompts] [\[WP\]\[NSFW\]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well.](https://np.reddit.com/r/shittywritingprompts/comments/4a4n7r/wpnsfwwhen_someone_masturbatesthe_person_they/)
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[](#bot) | |
[WP][NSFW]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well. | Every night. Every fucking night, I wake up with my blankets soaked. Then I go to sleep, and either after a few hours or just as I start to drift off, it happens again.
It was fun at first, knowing there was someone thinking about me. But it never fucking ends. The breaking point was when I was presenting in history and I felt that uncomfortably familiar sensation, and I don't know whether it would be worse if someone was jerking it in the bathroom by coincidence or if someone was fucking with me on purpose.
Fortunately, I know who's doing it, and one of them has a job interview tomorrow.
Saturday, 2:54 pm, I text him *stop it, or else.*
*I have no idea what you're talking about.*
*You, and all your other friends need to stop jerking it to me. You know I can feel it.*
*Hey, what I do is my business.*
*Promise you and your friends will stop, or else.*
*No.*
*Ryan, I swear to God...*
*I have to go now.*
I wait five minutes to make sure the interview starts, then I pull out a picture of Ryan from when he was on the track team. I slide my fingers into my panties, and start rubbing.
A couple minutes later, I get another text.
*Please, no. I'm at a job interview.*
*I know >:]*
*Please, you have to stop.*
*Promise you'll stop.*
*Once a week?*
*Your friends too.*
*I can't speak for them!*
*Fine. Where are you, anyway?*
*Bathroom. I'm going back in now.*
A couple minutes later, I start masturbating again. I don't get a text back for another half hour.
*Mary!!!!*
*Heheheheheh. Warn your friends, I'll cum after them too!* | I'm a bot, *bleep*, *bloop*. Someone has linked to this thread from another place on reddit:
- [/r/shittywritingprompts] [\[WP\]\[NSFW\]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well.](https://np.reddit.com/r/shittywritingprompts/comments/4a4n7r/wpnsfwwhen_someone_masturbatesthe_person_they/)
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[WP][NSFW]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well. | Craig was a honest and hardworking man from San Francisco. He worked at an innovative biotech company called Dendrix Inc. He developed plans for a ring that can wirelessly transmit neurological impulses from his finger to anyone's finger that he is focusing on. He recently got out of a long term relationship with his coworker, Jessica, after he caught her and his boss, Luke, in bed together at Craig's apartment. Jessica then moved in with Luke and he promoted her to be his second hand at Dendrix. Craig decided to not let relationships get in the way of his work as he had done a lot to get where he was at Dendrix.
He composed himself as he went to meet with Luke and Jessica to pitch his framework for the neurotransmitter ring. Craig walked into the meeting room and Luke immediately tried the, "You've got something on your shirt." gag. Craig said, "Sir, I'm not looking down again. I've got groundbreaking designs I need to show you two." Craig then explained all the benefits of his neurotransmitter ring and the many future implications that his wireless neurological signaller has. Jessica seemed engaged, and realized how profitable this breakthrough was. Luke raised an eyebrow and scoffed, "We can't profit on fairy tales. We aren't funding anything of yours. Come back when you have something tangible."
7 months later, Craig made another meeting with Jessica and Luke. Craig stated, "Ok, it wasn't easy, but I've finally made the neurotransmitter ring." Luke chuckled, "Haha, let's see how well this ring works." Craig stood up on the table and slid his pants past his knees and revealed the ring was around his cock. He then stared directly at Jessica and began to beat off. As he was pumping his penis, she got so wet she couldn't take it any longer. She climbed up on the table and slid her pants down and Craig slid his cock in her ass. As he was pounding her, Craig explained, "You see Luke...*gasp*...the ring doesn't just work on your finger...ooo...like I said....uuhhh...it has many other implications." Craig then pulled out of Jessica and splattered cum all over Luke. "You've got something on your shirt." Luke was speechless for once. Craig looked down and saw his ring had disappeared. Craig laughed, "Hahaha it looks like I lost something inside Jessica. Aw well, it's only a replica, it doesn't actually function. If you want a real ring you can buy one next year, as they are currently being mass produced by my new biotech company!" Craig, the honest and hardworking man from San Francisco, zipped up his pants and strolled out the door.
Edit: removed typo | I'm a bot, *bleep*, *bloop*. Someone has linked to this thread from another place on reddit:
- [/r/shittywritingprompts] [\[WP\]\[NSFW\]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well.](https://np.reddit.com/r/shittywritingprompts/comments/4a4n7r/wpnsfwwhen_someone_masturbatesthe_person_they/)
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[WP][NSFW]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well. | It was just another evening in the bathroom with me in my usual place on the throne, lubricant in one hand and my Stick of Truth in the other.
The subject of tonight's session was a mate I'd met at a pub a while ago. Now, he was at work so for now, all I had to rely on was visions of this man dancing through my head.
And then, just when things were getting good, my mobile phone rang from the pocket of my jeans. It was him.
"Hello?"
"Oi, mate! D'ya mind savin' that 'til later? I'm in the middle of a meeting and it's starting to get embarrassing!"
"Sorry."
Whatever. I still finished. | I'm a bot, *bleep*, *bloop*. Someone has linked to this thread from another place on reddit:
- [/r/shittywritingprompts] [\[WP\]\[NSFW\]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well.](https://np.reddit.com/r/shittywritingprompts/comments/4a4n7r/wpnsfwwhen_someone_masturbatesthe_person_they/)
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[WP][NSFW]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well. | Korea found out first.
In perhaps the most absurd change to physical reality ever conceived, empathy became a fundamental force of the universe. It was, in general, a fairly weak force; if you felt proud of someone, their self-expection centres may light up, perhaps, 0.01% more than usual. A man angry at his neighbor over an untrimmed hedge may cause slightly heightened irritation to be felt by the neighbour (at *all* things).
The effect was, in fact, so weak that at first nobody noticed. Even when studies started to appear with evidence of these anomalies, they were dismissed as pure psuedoscience - nothing more than undeniable proof that correlation does not imply causation. Top researchers in the west were tripping over themselves trying to denounce the findings, lest the scientific community be made a laughing stock.
All over the world, the effect was dismissed. Except, of course, in the Democratic People's Republic of Korea.
Kim Jong-un himself ordered that the most gifted North Koreans be tasked with investigating the phenomenon. In secret, hidden from the nonsense of the world, they toiled. Eventually, it was realised that effect was indeed real, and - best of all - predictable. If one gathered up enough people and forced them to watch footage of a famous celebrity while being painfully shocked in the genitals, their sheer anger would cause said celebrity to fall into an uncontrollable rage. When Leonardo DiCaprio failed to win his fourth Oscar in a row, it seemed almost comical how irate he became - almost maiming Adam Sandler before the actor even had a chance to make his speech. An epidemic of confusion spread around the globe.
But it turns out that anger does not invoke the most powerful response. Lust does. When the Korean slaves got used to the constant genital electrification, their effect changed entirely.
Presidents, military officers, prime ministers...all were laid low. The armies of Our Glorious Leader rolled out onto the helpless nation states of the world.
One by one, they fell.
The age of the Kim had begun. | I'm a bot, *bleep*, *bloop*. Someone has linked to this thread from another place on reddit:
- [/r/shittywritingprompts] [\[WP\]\[NSFW\]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well.](https://np.reddit.com/r/shittywritingprompts/comments/4a4n7r/wpnsfwwhen_someone_masturbatesthe_person_they/)
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[WP][NSFW]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well. | Sonnet Number Seventy-One
As Issac Newton once had said it best,
"Each action has its opposite reaction."
Because his physics are true with all the rest
It follows, masturbation's no exception.
The diddled self when thinking of another,
Requires outcome of action, to be felt.
If she is someone's sister, wife, or mother
Makes no difference to feelings below the belt.
Celebrity's a curse with constant attention,
No rest as long as object for desire.
The men get a constant, onslaught of shlickin'
And women feel the tug of misplaced fire.
The worst is Helen of Troy, immortal dame
Her dusty corpse's restless to this day.
| I'm a bot, *bleep*, *bloop*. Someone has linked to this thread from another place on reddit:
- [/r/shittywritingprompts] [\[WP\]\[NSFW\]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well.](https://np.reddit.com/r/shittywritingprompts/comments/4a4n7r/wpnsfwwhen_someone_masturbatesthe_person_they/)
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[](#bot) | |
[WP][NSFW]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well. | Jimmy had his tablet in one had and his prized flesh-light in the other. The tablet was displaying a homemade video Jimmy's ex-lover made. His ex-lover even went as far as making a porn name in the video. He referred to himself as "Cumoshi". In the video, he was giving Jimmy jack off instructions and Jimmy followed them word for word. Jimmy even choked himself according to Cumoshi's directions. In fact, by the look on Jimmy's face, he was leading up to the best orgasm in his porn filled life.
Meanwhile, Akio, or "Cumoshi", was in the middle of a game of basketball. Being a 6'2 male he was the power forward in this competitive five on five game. In the role of a power forward, Akio was mainly responsible for rebounding and providing a physical presence in the game. Currently, Akio was being backed down by the recreational leagues best center. In the process of this Akio was suddenly becoming erect. The process caused the Center to run right by him. Akio felt as if his dick was being sucked right there in front of crowd of familys. Akio went up to the ref and called a timeout. He then instructed Tim to take his place.
On the bench, Akio was feeling himself near orgasm. His three teammates looked at him and yelled for a doctor as they mistook what he was feeling for pain. Akio gripped the chairs next to him as hard as he could. His teammates on the bench noticed his erection, and gave each other an exchange of looks. Akio's breaths were quick and loud enough for his teammates to hear. The doctor approaching Akio noticed this, and sped up his pace to get to Akio. The doctor then got to Akio just as his penis saturated his compression shorts in cum. Akio did his best to keep a straight face, and no one did notice what actually happened. Luckily, his recent diet resulted in very thick cum so it did not start flowing down his leg. The laws of physics were on Akio's side. Akio then made eye contact with the doctor and pointed at his ass. Motioning that he just had to shit as he shamefully got up, and walked to the restroom.
At the same time Jimmy was elated, and had decided to share this masterpiece of a video. Six months earlier Jimmy found Akio naked on top of a man named Steve. When Jimmy walked in, Akio tried to play it cool and asked Jimmy to join. However, Jimmy just stormed out the door to never speak to Akio again. Which is why, Jimmy decided to post this video on as many free porn sites as he could. Within, twenty minutes he had it live on 14.
Akio had just finished throwing away his compression shorts and was on his way back to watch his teams last game of the season. Once he got to the bench, his teammate asked, "You okay Akio?". Akio said, "Yeah. Fucking sushi man. Fucking sushi", and sat down next to him.
The view counts were now started to rise. It was up to five. Akio felt his dick get hard again. Five more views happened within a second. Akio now felt a sharp pain in his pants and let out a scream. It turns out Akio's unnamed almost magical phenomenon was known as "Khrug Curse" in Alpha Centauri. Which is why children were checked for it there. Luckily, Akio was the only human on Earth with it. It's also a good thing he was gay, but a shame he made frequent sperm donations.
Anyways, six more views stacked up. A 17 year old named Chati in Thailand just had an orgasm. However, Akio's body had no sperm to send out. Consequently, blood began to drip down his leg, and Akio screamed again even louder. A doctor was now running his way. Three more orgasm occurred and more blood was pouring out of his penis. The views were growing exponentially, and his screams escalated with it. Along with the puddle of blood on the floor.
The game was now stopped and everyone was circling Akio. Three people were on the phone ordering him emergency help. The views were at 70, and many were close to orgasm. Suddenly, Akio fainted and three simultaneous orgasms broke his urethra.
Akio would never awake from fainting and would die right there on the floor. His death unknown to this day. His sperm in donation was mutated with Khrug Curse as well, but that is a completely different story.
| Breaking news!
The World Olympic Committee is meeting to discuss possible solutions to the new paradigm destroying competitive sports in advance of this year's Rio Olympics. Sporting events at all levels have been marred by strategic abuse of the phenomenon now known as "Extra Sensual Perception". When ESP hit two years ago book makers and franchise owners scrambled to find skilled masturbaters to help tip the balance with focused ESP attacks on key team members at crucial moments. Peyton Manning said the amount of attacks during the Superbowl game was particularly distressing as his brother Eli was also a victim of false positives watching it at home with his family. (Although Manning did admit that ESP added some much needed edge to Celine Dion's halftime show)
The committee has already ruled out all water based sports after a recent spate of drownings. There are plans for all javelins to be corked and for weightlifters to be supported by spotters and harnesses. A number of delegates have suggested that athletes compete anonymously wearing full body burkas but this would be complicated by numerous countries that have banned the wearing of hijab. A spokesperson for the committee said that they would work tirelessly to find a solution despite being plagued by the increased ESP attacks attributed to the misguided decision to publicise the meeting.
And in ongoing news the Surgeon General has repeated pleas for people to stop quote "putting Google into Google" by thinking about themselves when they masturbate as this creates an infinite feedback loop resulting in a messy vegetative state in which the replenishment of fluids is virtually impossible. | |
[WP][NSFW]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well. | Every night. Every fucking night, I wake up with my blankets soaked. Then I go to sleep, and either after a few hours or just as I start to drift off, it happens again.
It was fun at first, knowing there was someone thinking about me. But it never fucking ends. The breaking point was when I was presenting in history and I felt that uncomfortably familiar sensation, and I don't know whether it would be worse if someone was jerking it in the bathroom by coincidence or if someone was fucking with me on purpose.
Fortunately, I know who's doing it, and one of them has a job interview tomorrow.
Saturday, 2:54 pm, I text him *stop it, or else.*
*I have no idea what you're talking about.*
*You, and all your other friends need to stop jerking it to me. You know I can feel it.*
*Hey, what I do is my business.*
*Promise you and your friends will stop, or else.*
*No.*
*Ryan, I swear to God...*
*I have to go now.*
I wait five minutes to make sure the interview starts, then I pull out a picture of Ryan from when he was on the track team. I slide my fingers into my panties, and start rubbing.
A couple minutes later, I get another text.
*Please, no. I'm at a job interview.*
*I know >:]*
*Please, you have to stop.*
*Promise you'll stop.*
*Once a week?*
*Your friends too.*
*I can't speak for them!*
*Fine. Where are you, anyway?*
*Bathroom. I'm going back in now.*
A couple minutes later, I start masturbating again. I don't get a text back for another half hour.
*Mary!!!!*
*Heheheheheh. Warn your friends, I'll cum after them too!* | Breaking news!
The World Olympic Committee is meeting to discuss possible solutions to the new paradigm destroying competitive sports in advance of this year's Rio Olympics. Sporting events at all levels have been marred by strategic abuse of the phenomenon now known as "Extra Sensual Perception". When ESP hit two years ago book makers and franchise owners scrambled to find skilled masturbaters to help tip the balance with focused ESP attacks on key team members at crucial moments. Peyton Manning said the amount of attacks during the Superbowl game was particularly distressing as his brother Eli was also a victim of false positives watching it at home with his family. (Although Manning did admit that ESP added some much needed edge to Celine Dion's halftime show)
The committee has already ruled out all water based sports after a recent spate of drownings. There are plans for all javelins to be corked and for weightlifters to be supported by spotters and harnesses. A number of delegates have suggested that athletes compete anonymously wearing full body burkas but this would be complicated by numerous countries that have banned the wearing of hijab. A spokesperson for the committee said that they would work tirelessly to find a solution despite being plagued by the increased ESP attacks attributed to the misguided decision to publicise the meeting.
And in ongoing news the Surgeon General has repeated pleas for people to stop quote "putting Google into Google" by thinking about themselves when they masturbate as this creates an infinite feedback loop resulting in a messy vegetative state in which the replenishment of fluids is virtually impossible. | |
[WP][NSFW]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well. | Korea found out first.
In perhaps the most absurd change to physical reality ever conceived, empathy became a fundamental force of the universe. It was, in general, a fairly weak force; if you felt proud of someone, their self-expection centres may light up, perhaps, 0.01% more than usual. A man angry at his neighbor over an untrimmed hedge may cause slightly heightened irritation to be felt by the neighbour (at *all* things).
The effect was, in fact, so weak that at first nobody noticed. Even when studies started to appear with evidence of these anomalies, they were dismissed as pure psuedoscience - nothing more than undeniable proof that correlation does not imply causation. Top researchers in the west were tripping over themselves trying to denounce the findings, lest the scientific community be made a laughing stock.
All over the world, the effect was dismissed. Except, of course, in the Democratic People's Republic of Korea.
Kim Jong-un himself ordered that the most gifted North Koreans be tasked with investigating the phenomenon. In secret, hidden from the nonsense of the world, they toiled. Eventually, it was realised that effect was indeed real, and - best of all - predictable. If one gathered up enough people and forced them to watch footage of a famous celebrity while being painfully shocked in the genitals, their sheer anger would cause said celebrity to fall into an uncontrollable rage. When Leonardo DiCaprio failed to win his fourth Oscar in a row, it seemed almost comical how irate he became - almost maiming Adam Sandler before the actor even had a chance to make his speech. An epidemic of confusion spread around the globe.
But it turns out that anger does not invoke the most powerful response. Lust does. When the Korean slaves got used to the constant genital electrification, their effect changed entirely.
Presidents, military officers, prime ministers...all were laid low. The armies of Our Glorious Leader rolled out onto the helpless nation states of the world.
One by one, they fell.
The age of the Kim had begun. | It was just another evening in the bathroom with me in my usual place on the throne, lubricant in one hand and my Stick of Truth in the other.
The subject of tonight's session was a mate I'd met at a pub a while ago. Now, he was at work so for now, all I had to rely on was visions of this man dancing through my head.
And then, just when things were getting good, my mobile phone rang from the pocket of my jeans. It was him.
"Hello?"
"Oi, mate! D'ya mind savin' that 'til later? I'm in the middle of a meeting and it's starting to get embarrassing!"
"Sorry."
Whatever. I still finished. | |
[WP][NSFW]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well. | Korea found out first.
In perhaps the most absurd change to physical reality ever conceived, empathy became a fundamental force of the universe. It was, in general, a fairly weak force; if you felt proud of someone, their self-expection centres may light up, perhaps, 0.01% more than usual. A man angry at his neighbor over an untrimmed hedge may cause slightly heightened irritation to be felt by the neighbour (at *all* things).
The effect was, in fact, so weak that at first nobody noticed. Even when studies started to appear with evidence of these anomalies, they were dismissed as pure psuedoscience - nothing more than undeniable proof that correlation does not imply causation. Top researchers in the west were tripping over themselves trying to denounce the findings, lest the scientific community be made a laughing stock.
All over the world, the effect was dismissed. Except, of course, in the Democratic People's Republic of Korea.
Kim Jong-un himself ordered that the most gifted North Koreans be tasked with investigating the phenomenon. In secret, hidden from the nonsense of the world, they toiled. Eventually, it was realised that effect was indeed real, and - best of all - predictable. If one gathered up enough people and forced them to watch footage of a famous celebrity while being painfully shocked in the genitals, their sheer anger would cause said celebrity to fall into an uncontrollable rage. When Leonardo DiCaprio failed to win his fourth Oscar in a row, it seemed almost comical how irate he became - almost maiming Adam Sandler before the actor even had a chance to make his speech. An epidemic of confusion spread around the globe.
But it turns out that anger does not invoke the most powerful response. Lust does. When the Korean slaves got used to the constant genital electrification, their effect changed entirely.
Presidents, military officers, prime ministers...all were laid low. The armies of Our Glorious Leader rolled out onto the helpless nation states of the world.
One by one, they fell.
The age of the Kim had begun. | I got a call from a friend who invited me over to her house to talk about something. I've accepted to come, but I have been feeling very awkward about it. I mean, she does look a little good, but I'm not sure if I do like her - talking about it is too awkward and embarrassing, and...nevermind about that.
I arrive, say hello, and we're sitting together, while I'm trying to maintain my composure. She starts off the conversation, saying "Hey...I have been feeling weird lately."
Feeling curious, I respond. "Yeah? Well, do you want to explain it?"
After a few seconds where she was looking away from me, looking shy and reluctant to say anything, she tells me "Well, I have been feeling like some...something's been inside of me, but it shouldn't..."
Even though I could see that she has more to say but is too reluctant to say anything more, I can already imagine what she was going to say. I could guess that she starts making sounds when that 'thing' feels like it's inside of her, and that it makes her all tingly or however the hell it works.
If that is the case...shit. I think I know what is happening.
I later confirmed it when I felt like I was going into someone even if I was only doing something mundane, and I could feel something very familiar after the sensation of being inside someone was over. | |
[WP][NSFW]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well. | Sonnet Number Seventy-One
As Issac Newton once had said it best,
"Each action has its opposite reaction."
Because his physics are true with all the rest
It follows, masturbation's no exception.
The diddled self when thinking of another,
Requires outcome of action, to be felt.
If she is someone's sister, wife, or mother
Makes no difference to feelings below the belt.
Celebrity's a curse with constant attention,
No rest as long as object for desire.
The men get a constant, onslaught of shlickin'
And women feel the tug of misplaced fire.
The worst is Helen of Troy, immortal dame
Her dusty corpse's restless to this day.
| I got a call from a friend who invited me over to her house to talk about something. I've accepted to come, but I have been feeling very awkward about it. I mean, she does look a little good, but I'm not sure if I do like her - talking about it is too awkward and embarrassing, and...nevermind about that.
I arrive, say hello, and we're sitting together, while I'm trying to maintain my composure. She starts off the conversation, saying "Hey...I have been feeling weird lately."
Feeling curious, I respond. "Yeah? Well, do you want to explain it?"
After a few seconds where she was looking away from me, looking shy and reluctant to say anything, she tells me "Well, I have been feeling like some...something's been inside of me, but it shouldn't..."
Even though I could see that she has more to say but is too reluctant to say anything more, I can already imagine what she was going to say. I could guess that she starts making sounds when that 'thing' feels like it's inside of her, and that it makes her all tingly or however the hell it works.
If that is the case...shit. I think I know what is happening.
I later confirmed it when I felt like I was going into someone even if I was only doing something mundane, and I could feel something very familiar after the sensation of being inside someone was over. | |
[WP][NSFW]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well. | It's weird. As we have evolved as humans, our capacity for empathy continued to increase, until eventually we could feel each other's emotional responses as they were happening. Despite the years of mandatory training, there is still the occasional story of a man or woman dying shortly after feeling the death of their spouse, or the reverberating anguish of hundreds of thousands when a natural disaster hits. With this empathy came a kind of forced world peace, as the horrors of war echoed in hears and souls worldwide. Crime too, plummeted as it was impossible to hide from the emotional turmoil of victims and their families.
And, in an interesting twist, our increased capacity for empathy has also resulted in the near-eradication of pornography. Adult film stars retired by the dozens. It must be difficult and personally embarrassing to feel hundreds of other people climaxing with you on their minds, and further, for that to happen several times a day.
I wouldn't know what it's like. Not personally anyway. No one thinks of me in their most intimate moments. I know that I have the same empathy as anyone else. The tests proved it; I can feel the happiness or sadness or hate of everyone around me. But I've never felt the distinct, tickling sensation of someone reaching climax, and thinking of me.
I'm so fucking lonely. | I got a call from a friend who invited me over to her house to talk about something. I've accepted to come, but I have been feeling very awkward about it. I mean, she does look a little good, but I'm not sure if I do like her - talking about it is too awkward and embarrassing, and...nevermind about that.
I arrive, say hello, and we're sitting together, while I'm trying to maintain my composure. She starts off the conversation, saying "Hey...I have been feeling weird lately."
Feeling curious, I respond. "Yeah? Well, do you want to explain it?"
After a few seconds where she was looking away from me, looking shy and reluctant to say anything, she tells me "Well, I have been feeling like some...something's been inside of me, but it shouldn't..."
Even though I could see that she has more to say but is too reluctant to say anything more, I can already imagine what she was going to say. I could guess that she starts making sounds when that 'thing' feels like it's inside of her, and that it makes her all tingly or however the hell it works.
If that is the case...shit. I think I know what is happening.
I later confirmed it when I felt like I was going into someone even if I was only doing something mundane, and I could feel something very familiar after the sensation of being inside someone was over. | |
[WP][NSFW]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well. | Korea found out first.
In perhaps the most absurd change to physical reality ever conceived, empathy became a fundamental force of the universe. It was, in general, a fairly weak force; if you felt proud of someone, their self-expection centres may light up, perhaps, 0.01% more than usual. A man angry at his neighbor over an untrimmed hedge may cause slightly heightened irritation to be felt by the neighbour (at *all* things).
The effect was, in fact, so weak that at first nobody noticed. Even when studies started to appear with evidence of these anomalies, they were dismissed as pure psuedoscience - nothing more than undeniable proof that correlation does not imply causation. Top researchers in the west were tripping over themselves trying to denounce the findings, lest the scientific community be made a laughing stock.
All over the world, the effect was dismissed. Except, of course, in the Democratic People's Republic of Korea.
Kim Jong-un himself ordered that the most gifted North Koreans be tasked with investigating the phenomenon. In secret, hidden from the nonsense of the world, they toiled. Eventually, it was realised that effect was indeed real, and - best of all - predictable. If one gathered up enough people and forced them to watch footage of a famous celebrity while being painfully shocked in the genitals, their sheer anger would cause said celebrity to fall into an uncontrollable rage. When Leonardo DiCaprio failed to win his fourth Oscar in a row, it seemed almost comical how irate he became - almost maiming Adam Sandler before the actor even had a chance to make his speech. An epidemic of confusion spread around the globe.
But it turns out that anger does not invoke the most powerful response. Lust does. When the Korean slaves got used to the constant genital electrification, their effect changed entirely.
Presidents, military officers, prime ministers...all were laid low. The armies of Our Glorious Leader rolled out onto the helpless nation states of the world.
One by one, they fell.
The age of the Kim had begun. | In spite of his years in the oncology department, arguably one of the most humbling and readying rites of passage into the world of truth there are, nothing had quite prepared Dr. Callender to tell Chloë Grace Moretz's parents that she wasn't having seizures nor epileptic fits of any kind, let alone dying. Dread mutated exponentially into hot and sickly pink and green wedged between the back of his throat and tongue and deep in his ears like an inconvenient furnace every step closer to her parents until finally, out of embarrassment, realizing he had been face to face with them this whole time, simply suggested, "Perhaps you could ask Mr. Scorsese to postpone shooting for another, mm, about, till 2015? I'm afraid she'll be... well, she's not comatose... I've never seen anything quite like this before,"
Oh, Dr. Callender knew exactly what was going on, knew he partly contributed to her current condition, and knew that he would be the first man to simultaneously fuck tens of thousands of men over the age of forty without having to retire his stethoscope for the day,
"Really big fan, by the way." | |
[WP][NSFW]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well. | Sonnet Number Seventy-One
As Issac Newton once had said it best,
"Each action has its opposite reaction."
Because his physics are true with all the rest
It follows, masturbation's no exception.
The diddled self when thinking of another,
Requires outcome of action, to be felt.
If she is someone's sister, wife, or mother
Makes no difference to feelings below the belt.
Celebrity's a curse with constant attention,
No rest as long as object for desire.
The men get a constant, onslaught of shlickin'
And women feel the tug of misplaced fire.
The worst is Helen of Troy, immortal dame
Her dusty corpse's restless to this day.
| In spite of his years in the oncology department, arguably one of the most humbling and readying rites of passage into the world of truth there are, nothing had quite prepared Dr. Callender to tell Chloë Grace Moretz's parents that she wasn't having seizures nor epileptic fits of any kind, let alone dying. Dread mutated exponentially into hot and sickly pink and green wedged between the back of his throat and tongue and deep in his ears like an inconvenient furnace every step closer to her parents until finally, out of embarrassment, realizing he had been face to face with them this whole time, simply suggested, "Perhaps you could ask Mr. Scorsese to postpone shooting for another, mm, about, till 2015? I'm afraid she'll be... well, she's not comatose... I've never seen anything quite like this before,"
Oh, Dr. Callender knew exactly what was going on, knew he partly contributed to her current condition, and knew that he would be the first man to simultaneously fuck tens of thousands of men over the age of forty without having to retire his stethoscope for the day,
"Really big fan, by the way." | |
[WP][NSFW]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well. | It's weird. As we have evolved as humans, our capacity for empathy continued to increase, until eventually we could feel each other's emotional responses as they were happening. Despite the years of mandatory training, there is still the occasional story of a man or woman dying shortly after feeling the death of their spouse, or the reverberating anguish of hundreds of thousands when a natural disaster hits. With this empathy came a kind of forced world peace, as the horrors of war echoed in hears and souls worldwide. Crime too, plummeted as it was impossible to hide from the emotional turmoil of victims and their families.
And, in an interesting twist, our increased capacity for empathy has also resulted in the near-eradication of pornography. Adult film stars retired by the dozens. It must be difficult and personally embarrassing to feel hundreds of other people climaxing with you on their minds, and further, for that to happen several times a day.
I wouldn't know what it's like. Not personally anyway. No one thinks of me in their most intimate moments. I know that I have the same empathy as anyone else. The tests proved it; I can feel the happiness or sadness or hate of everyone around me. But I've never felt the distinct, tickling sensation of someone reaching climax, and thinking of me.
I'm so fucking lonely. | In spite of his years in the oncology department, arguably one of the most humbling and readying rites of passage into the world of truth there are, nothing had quite prepared Dr. Callender to tell Chloë Grace Moretz's parents that she wasn't having seizures nor epileptic fits of any kind, let alone dying. Dread mutated exponentially into hot and sickly pink and green wedged between the back of his throat and tongue and deep in his ears like an inconvenient furnace every step closer to her parents until finally, out of embarrassment, realizing he had been face to face with them this whole time, simply suggested, "Perhaps you could ask Mr. Scorsese to postpone shooting for another, mm, about, till 2015? I'm afraid she'll be... well, she's not comatose... I've never seen anything quite like this before,"
Oh, Dr. Callender knew exactly what was going on, knew he partly contributed to her current condition, and knew that he would be the first man to simultaneously fuck tens of thousands of men over the age of forty without having to retire his stethoscope for the day,
"Really big fan, by the way." | |
[WP][NSFW]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well. | Jeremy was sitting quietly in his living room. He'd spent most of his Sunday watching football and drinking cheap beer. The game was interrupted by a news bulletin.
Popular actress Jennifer Lawrence died today of a self inflicted gunshot wound. She was overheard minutes before saying, "I.. Can't... Take it... Anymore... It doesn't stop..."
That makes the 103rd actress to commit suicide in 2016 said the announcer just before signing off.
"Wow," thought Jeremy. "Isn't that something? I'm going to google her pictures for old time sake" zip... | In spite of his years in the oncology department, arguably one of the most humbling and readying rites of passage into the world of truth there are, nothing had quite prepared Dr. Callender to tell Chloë Grace Moretz's parents that she wasn't having seizures nor epileptic fits of any kind, let alone dying. Dread mutated exponentially into hot and sickly pink and green wedged between the back of his throat and tongue and deep in his ears like an inconvenient furnace every step closer to her parents until finally, out of embarrassment, realizing he had been face to face with them this whole time, simply suggested, "Perhaps you could ask Mr. Scorsese to postpone shooting for another, mm, about, till 2015? I'm afraid she'll be... well, she's not comatose... I've never seen anything quite like this before,"
Oh, Dr. Callender knew exactly what was going on, knew he partly contributed to her current condition, and knew that he would be the first man to simultaneously fuck tens of thousands of men over the age of forty without having to retire his stethoscope for the day,
"Really big fan, by the way." | |
[WP][NSFW]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well. | Jeremy was sitting quietly in his living room. He'd spent most of his Sunday watching football and drinking cheap beer. The game was interrupted by a news bulletin.
Popular actress Jennifer Lawrence died today of a self inflicted gunshot wound. She was overheard minutes before saying, "I.. Can't... Take it... Anymore... It doesn't stop..."
That makes the 103rd actress to commit suicide in 2016 said the announcer just before signing off.
"Wow," thought Jeremy. "Isn't that something? I'm going to google her pictures for old time sake" zip... | Today was the day. Wendy couldn't stand not being seen by him anymore, couldn't stand being ignored. Everyday she would see him and everyday she would walk past, hoping for a glimpse at the least. And everyday she would be let down, walking to the bus with her head down. But today was the day, the day she finally asked out Jack, the boy of her dreams.
The final bell rang and she stumbled out into the hallway along with the other students. She turned left and approached the exit, by which Jack and his friends were always hanging out. Nervous, she considered just walking past them and going on about her usual way. But instead, she swallowed her fear and told herself "you can do this."
With each approaching step, her heart beat faster and faster. And with each step, she became more and more nervous. Finally, she was standing jut outside the circle of boys, and it was too late to turn back. With all of them looking at her as though she was out of her mind, she managed to get out the words "Hey Jack. Would you, uh,"
She paused. She was freaking out on the inside. All of the boys surrounding her were staring, looking at her as though she was something from outer space.
"Would you like to, uh" she continued, "would you like to go out sometime?"
She froze. She felt as though her heart was about to jump out of her chest. She wanted to run but she was too nervous. She was waiting for the worst.
Jack, who know held the attention of all his friends in the circle, as well as Wendy's, replied "Are you serious?"
Wendy's heart dropped. "Do you really think I'd go out with you?"
Jack and his friends starting laughing. Wendy, holding back tears, couldn't think of anything to do besides run. She wanted to just run home and hide, but knew it was too far, so she instead ran to the bathroom to hide. Trying to keep the tears at minimum and the crying as quiet as possible, she wept into her sweater in the bathroom stall. Then, all of the sudden, she felt a sensation. She knew what this feeling was, but didn't understand why she was feeling it. It grew stronger, and stronger, until finally it culminated into a feeling of pure ecstasy. She tried to hold back any sounds, but was unable to. A stain then spread slowly through her underwear and into her pants. Feeling confused, sad, and embarrassed, she exited the bathroom, wanting to get home as soon as possible. But she wasn't the only one exiting the bathroom. To her surprise, she saw Jack, across the hallway, zipping up his pants, as he too was just finishing up in the boy's room. Then Wendy noticed something, a stain on Jack's pants, similar to her own. Jack then gave her a wink as he walked back to his group of friends. | |
[WP][NSFW]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well. | Jeremy was sitting quietly in his living room. He'd spent most of his Sunday watching football and drinking cheap beer. The game was interrupted by a news bulletin.
Popular actress Jennifer Lawrence died today of a self inflicted gunshot wound. She was overheard minutes before saying, "I.. Can't... Take it... Anymore... It doesn't stop..."
That makes the 103rd actress to commit suicide in 2016 said the announcer just before signing off.
"Wow," thought Jeremy. "Isn't that something? I'm going to google her pictures for old time sake" zip... | The OP is sitting at the breakfast table, eating his cereal before getting on the bus to his Grade 8 class. OP's mom is drinking her coffee at the table, reading the paper, when she makes a strange face as what begins as a tremor becomes a shake. The shake becomes a wobble. She begins grimacing, excusing herself to her upstairs bedroom. OP starts feeling a strange tugging on his skin, and feels lighter, and he and the cutlery and plates begin to lift toward the ceiling.
The OP looks around, confused. Why were things looking *longer*? And why couldn't he hear anyth-
And at that precise moment, the OPs mom experienced a cluster of orgasms that burned with the intensity of a million suns, generating a quantum singularity that tears apart all matter in a five mile radius. A wormhole briefly appears and a familiar spacecraft is seen flying out, landing next to the huge crater of emptiness. Two figures emerge.
MORTY: "Aw jeeze Rick! Who would have thought that reddit post about OP's mom would have killed all these people?! This is bad Rick!"
RICK: "S-s-stop w-whining MOR[BURP]TY. It's pretty OBVIOUS that in a universe where everybody thinks about OP's m-mom would b-be a dangerous place to test my Quantum Ej-j-jaculator Morty."
MORTY: "Then why did you test it HERE??"
RICK: "Because, Morty. T-this was the fastest w-way to find out if it worked. Now I can go b-b[URP]-back to our universe and think about boning the OP's mom, like everyone in that reddit thread where this story was written about. It's science, Morty. It's progress. "
MORTY: "W-w-well then Rick, I can't blame you there. I think about banging the OP's mom too!"
RICK: "Thatta boy, Morty! That's observation, Morty. You need that for science. If you think ab-bout banging the OP's mom too, it's possible that almost every universe is a universe where everybody thinks about b-boning the OP's mom. You m-may have just [BURP] saved our universe, Morty. You're r-REally coming along, Morty."
----------------------------------------------------
Long time reader, first time poster... hope I'm doing it right!! | |
[WP][NSFW]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well. | Jeremy was sitting quietly in his living room. He'd spent most of his Sunday watching football and drinking cheap beer. The game was interrupted by a news bulletin.
Popular actress Jennifer Lawrence died today of a self inflicted gunshot wound. She was overheard minutes before saying, "I.. Can't... Take it... Anymore... It doesn't stop..."
That makes the 103rd actress to commit suicide in 2016 said the announcer just before signing off.
"Wow," thought Jeremy. "Isn't that something? I'm going to google her pictures for old time sake" zip... | Ever since the scientists of the world decided to give all humans empathetic powers, things got... Weird. Typically, you only feel sensation from a person you're on the same network as, and that's limited to what they want you to feel. The implants do a pretty good job of stimulating just the right places in the brain to convey the message.
However, the sensors can become overloaded when the stimulus evokes enough of an emotional response. For instance, a person dying of some tragedy away from their family can get one last hug before they move on, which is beautiful, don't get me wrong. Plus, the implants give you a sympathetic response, which means that you feel the appropriate sensation so the person you "hug" feels the hug instead of the sensation of giving a hug. Unfortunately, this overload can also be achieved during an orgasm.
As a male actor in adult films, I ask you gentlemen out there to keep this in mind. Every time you stroke it to my films, my lady costar isn't the only one that finds out what it's like for you to be inside them. | |
[WP][NSFW]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well. | I know it's sick, and I'm not proud of it, but ever since I found my mother-in-laws vibrator I cant help but thinking about her using it when I masturbate.
It's not like I took it or anything. I just picture her up on all fours going to town with it. Something about knowing a woman, her age, still has the desire turns me on.
The only problem is that the cemetery keeps calling and telling my wife that strange sounds are coming from her grave. I have taken to just disconnecting the phone while I have a go. | Ever since the scientists of the world decided to give all humans empathetic powers, things got... Weird. Typically, you only feel sensation from a person you're on the same network as, and that's limited to what they want you to feel. The implants do a pretty good job of stimulating just the right places in the brain to convey the message.
However, the sensors can become overloaded when the stimulus evokes enough of an emotional response. For instance, a person dying of some tragedy away from their family can get one last hug before they move on, which is beautiful, don't get me wrong. Plus, the implants give you a sympathetic response, which means that you feel the appropriate sensation so the person you "hug" feels the hug instead of the sensation of giving a hug. Unfortunately, this overload can also be achieved during an orgasm.
As a male actor in adult films, I ask you gentlemen out there to keep this in mind. Every time you stroke it to my films, my lady costar isn't the only one that finds out what it's like for you to be inside them. | |
[WP] When she said it was "in the fifties outside", she meant the nineteen-fifties. | "You promised me crystal beaches and beautiful mountain peaks on the 8th Valethian sun! So why is it Earth, 1950s outside?" she grumbled, as she stepped back inside.
"Ah well, something must have pulled us here," the doctor replied gaily, turning away from the controls of the TARDIS. "Let's go find out what it is!" | Fall Back Rut
I usually don't have guests at the lair, I'm not what people back in the day would have called a confirmed bachelor or anything but being a somewhat evil and quite mad scientist, requires some privacy. I enjoy the company of smart women from time to time but nothing to serious.
I had recently split up with a full professor, she was smart but had become obsessed with some third wave feminism and critical theory which made things too awkward. The sex was fun but even I won't sleep with the crazy for too long.
Than I met Jane
She was an undergrad student at the University where I occasionally teach Physics to Freshmen and to Sophomores a small slice of karmic hell that yields me access to the schools excellent lab equipment and a small stipend that I don't need.
I thought she was going to be a fallback rut but after a great many wonderful old fashioned dates was a more than a little smitten.
To my eyes she was probably the most gorgeous woman I had every seen,
Her names was Jane McClellan and she was five eight of red headed perfection with a stratospheric IQ and apparently lonely enough to consider me good company. Like me she had nobody
As I said I was quite smitten, I was also planning to what some people might construe as kidnap her. Sort of.
Jane and I were enjoying another redhead, well that doesn't really sound like right but anyway we were watching I Love Lucy. Holding hands, mushy and a lot more enjoyable than I ever thought possible. I was happy which is a novel feeling to me. Jane seemed content too. Before TV and my top notch homemade meatloaf she had marveled over my antique collection, inherited from every one of my family line , A line of which I was the last a fact that saddened me greatly.
I wondered if Jane, who was a fair bit younger than me wanted kids but I didn't want to spoil the moment by asking.
As the show came to an end I looked in her green eyes "You always seem out of place, out of time. " the like me went unspoken like a lot of things did with us "If time travel was possible where would you go?"
"Oh, the 1950's, Peak America I think." Jane smiled "I'd like to live in a place where men were men and women were."
"Doubled breasted?"
She grinned and slapped my arm "No silly, women."
My heart was going to like a trip hammer "Hang on a minute, my dear."
I went into the basement and threw the switch.
If I failed I was probably looking at jail time and a stiff fine if they caught me but if I succeeded?
I sat down and played kissy face with Jane, partially to distract her but also because well I shouldn't have to explain it.
The was a weird sensation kind of like being inside a magnet and a flash of light probably caused by rogue nerve impulses.
"Whoa!" Jane said I though we had to go all the way for that."
I grinned. She was bit dizzy so I helped her up and when she peeled back the curtains I heard her exclaim "Its the fifties outside!"
"What the temperature?" I was being quite disingenuous of course. It was my T.D.S Time dimension space device that made it happen.
"No, No." Jane was excited. "It looks like the 1950's"
I came to the widow and the streets were bustling with life, it looked a like the historical photographs only alive and vibrating with color. A 52 sky blue Bel Air drive by, not an exciting car but a magnificent one. I had one once, had to part with it. Missed it. If we stayed I was going to buy it or a Packard.
She turned to me "You did this, somehow." I couldn't read her expression.
I took a deep breath, I had planned some special speech for the occasion but it was nearly all I could do to keep from stammering "Yes. I love you Jane, in about 5 minutes unless I throw another switch we'll return home, no harm no foul. But I'd like for us to stay here. I have money , birth certificates I can use and a plan, maybe for both of us?"
She trembled "Is this the past."
"Not exactly, I don't have a lot of time but its a very near parallel dimension. The differences aren't huge but its the 50's"
Jane took a deep breath "I wish I had time to decide. . Decide for me. Please."
"Its not ethical, I can't. "
She took nearly forever to decide, 15 seconds left in the bubble ."Yes." She whispered and I hit the switch. " The bubble inverted its wave form, collapsed and we were in 1953 maybe for good, maybe not. But at least for a few years if I had to find a way back.
Jane practically collapsed in my arms "What now?"
I didn't drop to one knee "Will you marry me?"
She took my cheeks in her hands "You magnificent crazy man. I thought you'd never ask."
And in a few days we were wed.
About the only thing we missed was pizza delivery .The TV shows we loved were safe on DVR stashed in a Faraday cage along with the anomalous gear and on the whole life was good.
Life ended up interesting for us and the "Other 50's" turned out to both our surprises to be a fine home for us and our 5 children as my wife and I who turned out to be a natural mad scientist herself guided history the way we wanted it.
Eventually we'd discover a cure for aging, an easier way to time travel and a few other things but those are stories for another time.
| |
[WP] When she said it was "in the fifties outside", she meant the nineteen-fifties. | The broadcast transmitted again to an empty room.
"It'll be in the fifties again"
It had been 12 years since the Energy Conglomerate collected the atmosphere to use the base elements in their new fuel initiatives. Temperatures now are measured in the 1900s during the day and the -1800s at night
There were a few scientists and tree huggers who raged out against the issue, but they were quickly silenced by the SS.
The federal governments of the world did nothing to stop it. it's not like they could, not when the US is protecting the ECg. The only country that hadn't been forcibly demilitarized by the US regime was Russia, but Putin was our president's best hunting buddy. Rumor has it they snagged the last black rhino shortly before the entirety of Africa burned to cinders. Even the Sahara was ruined when it turned to glass.
There's nothing to be done anymore, except to hope our perpetual leader can trump this catastrophe.
There are rumours that a time machine is being developed by the Swedes. Their large Haddon collided is the last bastion of science. Hopefully they go back and stop
Vote for Trump 2016 | Fall Back Rut
I usually don't have guests at the lair, I'm not what people back in the day would have called a confirmed bachelor or anything but being a somewhat evil and quite mad scientist, requires some privacy. I enjoy the company of smart women from time to time but nothing to serious.
I had recently split up with a full professor, she was smart but had become obsessed with some third wave feminism and critical theory which made things too awkward. The sex was fun but even I won't sleep with the crazy for too long.
Than I met Jane
She was an undergrad student at the University where I occasionally teach Physics to Freshmen and to Sophomores a small slice of karmic hell that yields me access to the schools excellent lab equipment and a small stipend that I don't need.
I thought she was going to be a fallback rut but after a great many wonderful old fashioned dates was a more than a little smitten.
To my eyes she was probably the most gorgeous woman I had every seen,
Her names was Jane McClellan and she was five eight of red headed perfection with a stratospheric IQ and apparently lonely enough to consider me good company. Like me she had nobody
As I said I was quite smitten, I was also planning to what some people might construe as kidnap her. Sort of.
Jane and I were enjoying another redhead, well that doesn't really sound like right but anyway we were watching I Love Lucy. Holding hands, mushy and a lot more enjoyable than I ever thought possible. I was happy which is a novel feeling to me. Jane seemed content too. Before TV and my top notch homemade meatloaf she had marveled over my antique collection, inherited from every one of my family line , A line of which I was the last a fact that saddened me greatly.
I wondered if Jane, who was a fair bit younger than me wanted kids but I didn't want to spoil the moment by asking.
As the show came to an end I looked in her green eyes "You always seem out of place, out of time. " the like me went unspoken like a lot of things did with us "If time travel was possible where would you go?"
"Oh, the 1950's, Peak America I think." Jane smiled "I'd like to live in a place where men were men and women were."
"Doubled breasted?"
She grinned and slapped my arm "No silly, women."
My heart was going to like a trip hammer "Hang on a minute, my dear."
I went into the basement and threw the switch.
If I failed I was probably looking at jail time and a stiff fine if they caught me but if I succeeded?
I sat down and played kissy face with Jane, partially to distract her but also because well I shouldn't have to explain it.
The was a weird sensation kind of like being inside a magnet and a flash of light probably caused by rogue nerve impulses.
"Whoa!" Jane said I though we had to go all the way for that."
I grinned. She was bit dizzy so I helped her up and when she peeled back the curtains I heard her exclaim "Its the fifties outside!"
"What the temperature?" I was being quite disingenuous of course. It was my T.D.S Time dimension space device that made it happen.
"No, No." Jane was excited. "It looks like the 1950's"
I came to the widow and the streets were bustling with life, it looked a like the historical photographs only alive and vibrating with color. A 52 sky blue Bel Air drive by, not an exciting car but a magnificent one. I had one once, had to part with it. Missed it. If we stayed I was going to buy it or a Packard.
She turned to me "You did this, somehow." I couldn't read her expression.
I took a deep breath, I had planned some special speech for the occasion but it was nearly all I could do to keep from stammering "Yes. I love you Jane, in about 5 minutes unless I throw another switch we'll return home, no harm no foul. But I'd like for us to stay here. I have money , birth certificates I can use and a plan, maybe for both of us?"
She trembled "Is this the past."
"Not exactly, I don't have a lot of time but its a very near parallel dimension. The differences aren't huge but its the 50's"
Jane took a deep breath "I wish I had time to decide. . Decide for me. Please."
"Its not ethical, I can't. "
She took nearly forever to decide, 15 seconds left in the bubble ."Yes." She whispered and I hit the switch. " The bubble inverted its wave form, collapsed and we were in 1953 maybe for good, maybe not. But at least for a few years if I had to find a way back.
Jane practically collapsed in my arms "What now?"
I didn't drop to one knee "Will you marry me?"
She took my cheeks in her hands "You magnificent crazy man. I thought you'd never ask."
And in a few days we were wed.
About the only thing we missed was pizza delivery .The TV shows we loved were safe on DVR stashed in a Faraday cage along with the anomalous gear and on the whole life was good.
Life ended up interesting for us and the "Other 50's" turned out to both our surprises to be a fine home for us and our 5 children as my wife and I who turned out to be a natural mad scientist herself guided history the way we wanted it.
Eventually we'd discover a cure for aging, an easier way to time travel and a few other things but those are stories for another time.
| |
[WP] When she said it was "in the fifties outside", she meant the nineteen-fifties. | Not sure what to expect, Marquis opened the door to gauge what to wear for class.
He saw the world outside had no color, and a trio of leather jackets strolled down the street as if they owned it.
**slam** the door shut. Marquis was just gonna get the notes from somebody tomorrow. | Fall Back Rut
I usually don't have guests at the lair, I'm not what people back in the day would have called a confirmed bachelor or anything but being a somewhat evil and quite mad scientist, requires some privacy. I enjoy the company of smart women from time to time but nothing to serious.
I had recently split up with a full professor, she was smart but had become obsessed with some third wave feminism and critical theory which made things too awkward. The sex was fun but even I won't sleep with the crazy for too long.
Than I met Jane
She was an undergrad student at the University where I occasionally teach Physics to Freshmen and to Sophomores a small slice of karmic hell that yields me access to the schools excellent lab equipment and a small stipend that I don't need.
I thought she was going to be a fallback rut but after a great many wonderful old fashioned dates was a more than a little smitten.
To my eyes she was probably the most gorgeous woman I had every seen,
Her names was Jane McClellan and she was five eight of red headed perfection with a stratospheric IQ and apparently lonely enough to consider me good company. Like me she had nobody
As I said I was quite smitten, I was also planning to what some people might construe as kidnap her. Sort of.
Jane and I were enjoying another redhead, well that doesn't really sound like right but anyway we were watching I Love Lucy. Holding hands, mushy and a lot more enjoyable than I ever thought possible. I was happy which is a novel feeling to me. Jane seemed content too. Before TV and my top notch homemade meatloaf she had marveled over my antique collection, inherited from every one of my family line , A line of which I was the last a fact that saddened me greatly.
I wondered if Jane, who was a fair bit younger than me wanted kids but I didn't want to spoil the moment by asking.
As the show came to an end I looked in her green eyes "You always seem out of place, out of time. " the like me went unspoken like a lot of things did with us "If time travel was possible where would you go?"
"Oh, the 1950's, Peak America I think." Jane smiled "I'd like to live in a place where men were men and women were."
"Doubled breasted?"
She grinned and slapped my arm "No silly, women."
My heart was going to like a trip hammer "Hang on a minute, my dear."
I went into the basement and threw the switch.
If I failed I was probably looking at jail time and a stiff fine if they caught me but if I succeeded?
I sat down and played kissy face with Jane, partially to distract her but also because well I shouldn't have to explain it.
The was a weird sensation kind of like being inside a magnet and a flash of light probably caused by rogue nerve impulses.
"Whoa!" Jane said I though we had to go all the way for that."
I grinned. She was bit dizzy so I helped her up and when she peeled back the curtains I heard her exclaim "Its the fifties outside!"
"What the temperature?" I was being quite disingenuous of course. It was my T.D.S Time dimension space device that made it happen.
"No, No." Jane was excited. "It looks like the 1950's"
I came to the widow and the streets were bustling with life, it looked a like the historical photographs only alive and vibrating with color. A 52 sky blue Bel Air drive by, not an exciting car but a magnificent one. I had one once, had to part with it. Missed it. If we stayed I was going to buy it or a Packard.
She turned to me "You did this, somehow." I couldn't read her expression.
I took a deep breath, I had planned some special speech for the occasion but it was nearly all I could do to keep from stammering "Yes. I love you Jane, in about 5 minutes unless I throw another switch we'll return home, no harm no foul. But I'd like for us to stay here. I have money , birth certificates I can use and a plan, maybe for both of us?"
She trembled "Is this the past."
"Not exactly, I don't have a lot of time but its a very near parallel dimension. The differences aren't huge but its the 50's"
Jane took a deep breath "I wish I had time to decide. . Decide for me. Please."
"Its not ethical, I can't. "
She took nearly forever to decide, 15 seconds left in the bubble ."Yes." She whispered and I hit the switch. " The bubble inverted its wave form, collapsed and we were in 1953 maybe for good, maybe not. But at least for a few years if I had to find a way back.
Jane practically collapsed in my arms "What now?"
I didn't drop to one knee "Will you marry me?"
She took my cheeks in her hands "You magnificent crazy man. I thought you'd never ask."
And in a few days we were wed.
About the only thing we missed was pizza delivery .The TV shows we loved were safe on DVR stashed in a Faraday cage along with the anomalous gear and on the whole life was good.
Life ended up interesting for us and the "Other 50's" turned out to both our surprises to be a fine home for us and our 5 children as my wife and I who turned out to be a natural mad scientist herself guided history the way we wanted it.
Eventually we'd discover a cure for aging, an easier way to time travel and a few other things but those are stories for another time.
| |
[WP] When she said it was "in the fifties outside", she meant the nineteen-fifties. | "No no no no no no no no..." I'll admit it, my mind was swimming. The possibility of time travel, the reality of maybe changing history. And then a very clear problem...
"Just...calm down. What's so bad about this?" Dylan was never the sharpest tool in the shed.
"I'm gay, Dylan! I can *not* be in the fifties!"
"Oh...shit."
"Yeah, oh shit. What are we going to do?!"
"Just calm down, let me think"
"Calm down. Calm. Down." I walked over to the window, and pulled aside the curtain, revealing a retro car driving down the street.
"Am I still being calm? You fuckin asshole, it's not your life at risk."
"Okay, no one's life is at risk right now! So would you *please* be calm!"
"Fine. Just...how the hell do we get out of this, tell me you've got something."
"Wh-oh, sure. Just let me get my fucking time machine out of my pocket, and we'll go on home."
"Man, I don't fucking know what you do and don't know!"
"I'm pretty sure my engineering classes don't cover applied time travel!"
"What the hell is all the yelling about?" Oh, Kyle woke up. Well, this'll be fun to explain.
"We're in the fifties."
"The hell is he on about?"
"We are in the fifties."
"...Dylan, how many of his pills did you take?"
"What? None! Just look outside!" Kyle rolled his eyes before making his way to the window.
"What am I going to see, an old car...they...no longer...okay, what's the deal?"
"We're in the fifties."
"Stop saying that, no we're not!"
"How do you know?"
"Carter would be freaking out."
"Oh, he was freaking the fuck out earlier, you should've been here."
"Fuck you."
"The answer's still no."
"Hahaha, great joke, what do we do now?"
"We don't know."
"What do you mean you don't know?"
"This is pretty new territory for us, in fact I'm pretty sure no one-" He was cut off when the house started to shake, violently, the outside world began to speed up, days started passing in minutes, then in seconds as the sun rose and fell, until finally the shaking stopped. We looked outside, we were home again.
"Jesus Christ, you guys are loud."
"Nick? Did you..."
"Yup."
"How..." He just shrugged his shoulders.
"I reversed the polarity. It's like you guys have never been time traveling before." He gave us a look before disappearing back into his room. Fucking Nick... | Fall Back Rut
I usually don't have guests at the lair, I'm not what people back in the day would have called a confirmed bachelor or anything but being a somewhat evil and quite mad scientist, requires some privacy. I enjoy the company of smart women from time to time but nothing to serious.
I had recently split up with a full professor, she was smart but had become obsessed with some third wave feminism and critical theory which made things too awkward. The sex was fun but even I won't sleep with the crazy for too long.
Than I met Jane
She was an undergrad student at the University where I occasionally teach Physics to Freshmen and to Sophomores a small slice of karmic hell that yields me access to the schools excellent lab equipment and a small stipend that I don't need.
I thought she was going to be a fallback rut but after a great many wonderful old fashioned dates was a more than a little smitten.
To my eyes she was probably the most gorgeous woman I had every seen,
Her names was Jane McClellan and she was five eight of red headed perfection with a stratospheric IQ and apparently lonely enough to consider me good company. Like me she had nobody
As I said I was quite smitten, I was also planning to what some people might construe as kidnap her. Sort of.
Jane and I were enjoying another redhead, well that doesn't really sound like right but anyway we were watching I Love Lucy. Holding hands, mushy and a lot more enjoyable than I ever thought possible. I was happy which is a novel feeling to me. Jane seemed content too. Before TV and my top notch homemade meatloaf she had marveled over my antique collection, inherited from every one of my family line , A line of which I was the last a fact that saddened me greatly.
I wondered if Jane, who was a fair bit younger than me wanted kids but I didn't want to spoil the moment by asking.
As the show came to an end I looked in her green eyes "You always seem out of place, out of time. " the like me went unspoken like a lot of things did with us "If time travel was possible where would you go?"
"Oh, the 1950's, Peak America I think." Jane smiled "I'd like to live in a place where men were men and women were."
"Doubled breasted?"
She grinned and slapped my arm "No silly, women."
My heart was going to like a trip hammer "Hang on a minute, my dear."
I went into the basement and threw the switch.
If I failed I was probably looking at jail time and a stiff fine if they caught me but if I succeeded?
I sat down and played kissy face with Jane, partially to distract her but also because well I shouldn't have to explain it.
The was a weird sensation kind of like being inside a magnet and a flash of light probably caused by rogue nerve impulses.
"Whoa!" Jane said I though we had to go all the way for that."
I grinned. She was bit dizzy so I helped her up and when she peeled back the curtains I heard her exclaim "Its the fifties outside!"
"What the temperature?" I was being quite disingenuous of course. It was my T.D.S Time dimension space device that made it happen.
"No, No." Jane was excited. "It looks like the 1950's"
I came to the widow and the streets were bustling with life, it looked a like the historical photographs only alive and vibrating with color. A 52 sky blue Bel Air drive by, not an exciting car but a magnificent one. I had one once, had to part with it. Missed it. If we stayed I was going to buy it or a Packard.
She turned to me "You did this, somehow." I couldn't read her expression.
I took a deep breath, I had planned some special speech for the occasion but it was nearly all I could do to keep from stammering "Yes. I love you Jane, in about 5 minutes unless I throw another switch we'll return home, no harm no foul. But I'd like for us to stay here. I have money , birth certificates I can use and a plan, maybe for both of us?"
She trembled "Is this the past."
"Not exactly, I don't have a lot of time but its a very near parallel dimension. The differences aren't huge but its the 50's"
Jane took a deep breath "I wish I had time to decide. . Decide for me. Please."
"Its not ethical, I can't. "
She took nearly forever to decide, 15 seconds left in the bubble ."Yes." She whispered and I hit the switch. " The bubble inverted its wave form, collapsed and we were in 1953 maybe for good, maybe not. But at least for a few years if I had to find a way back.
Jane practically collapsed in my arms "What now?"
I didn't drop to one knee "Will you marry me?"
She took my cheeks in her hands "You magnificent crazy man. I thought you'd never ask."
And in a few days we were wed.
About the only thing we missed was pizza delivery .The TV shows we loved were safe on DVR stashed in a Faraday cage along with the anomalous gear and on the whole life was good.
Life ended up interesting for us and the "Other 50's" turned out to both our surprises to be a fine home for us and our 5 children as my wife and I who turned out to be a natural mad scientist herself guided history the way we wanted it.
Eventually we'd discover a cure for aging, an easier way to time travel and a few other things but those are stories for another time.
| |
[WP] When she said it was "in the fifties outside", she meant the nineteen-fifties. | "Looks like you're my sister and we have to go to school today. Our bus gets us in an hour."
"Greeaat," she replied. "And it's in the fifties outside." When she said it was "in the fifties outside", she meant the nineteen-fifties. Sort of a comedic way the actors talk to each other in here. Waking up in a different house at a different time with different belongings every day requires a good sense of humor.
At any given time, whether it's in the fifties, the nineties, the o's, the entire cast consists of two thousand or so actors. Most of us flip flop around playing different rolls. Others are sort of background actors that work mostly with logistics and getting people in line. Then of course, there's the scattering of lead rolls and those that play an integral roll in their lives.
Time and place are sort of illusory unless you play a major roll. Most of us are here and there flip-floppiting around filling in the blanks and connecting the dots. This is all integral to gearing up the plots for the lead rolls.
Let's say a lead role was broke and he needed about 100 bucks to enjoy the night out on his birthday. We know that he is going to grab a lottery ticket at a certain time that day. We can get him to win without too much fuckery. That is to say, we won't directly rig the entire lottery system so that he will win. Instead, we rig the people who go in and buy the lottery tickets before him.
Using a method we call "Tracing", we are able to check which lottery scratcher the lead roll is going to buy. Then we go back and see who won on the same scratcher previous to him. Once we find a good winner, we go back again and have those winning actors divert their purchases. The lead comes in and purchases the winning ticket. Happy Birthday!
It sounds complicated, and it is, but with our logistics crew things tend to run smoothly. At least things seem to run smoothly in the spotlight. If there's a little bump in the road it will get worked out within a minimal time buffer. If things run off the rails, as they do from time to time, we simply run a set of procedures called a "White Out".
White Outs are pretty serious and are avoided at all costs. But when shit really hit's the fan and things are about to fall apart this is our save all. Typically a White Out involves carefully securing the lead rolls for a given period of time. Sometimes a week and other times a year. It all depends on how far we have to go back and reorganize. We never go back passed the nineteen-hundreds. That book is closed.
It should also be noted that most lead actors are not aware that they are actors when they are on set. Some figure it out. The other actors tend to mess with them at this point and there's not much the leads can really do about it. So if you're a lead roll ignorance is bliss unless your story already sucks.
So why do we do it? It's a fun job and we get free food. Working on the set of The Greatest Story Ever Told is a privilege. The story never ends, it just changes, and gets better. The lights turn on in 1897 and the possibilities start unfolding in 1987. What a great time to be alive! | Fall Back Rut
I usually don't have guests at the lair, I'm not what people back in the day would have called a confirmed bachelor or anything but being a somewhat evil and quite mad scientist, requires some privacy. I enjoy the company of smart women from time to time but nothing to serious.
I had recently split up with a full professor, she was smart but had become obsessed with some third wave feminism and critical theory which made things too awkward. The sex was fun but even I won't sleep with the crazy for too long.
Than I met Jane
She was an undergrad student at the University where I occasionally teach Physics to Freshmen and to Sophomores a small slice of karmic hell that yields me access to the schools excellent lab equipment and a small stipend that I don't need.
I thought she was going to be a fallback rut but after a great many wonderful old fashioned dates was a more than a little smitten.
To my eyes she was probably the most gorgeous woman I had every seen,
Her names was Jane McClellan and she was five eight of red headed perfection with a stratospheric IQ and apparently lonely enough to consider me good company. Like me she had nobody
As I said I was quite smitten, I was also planning to what some people might construe as kidnap her. Sort of.
Jane and I were enjoying another redhead, well that doesn't really sound like right but anyway we were watching I Love Lucy. Holding hands, mushy and a lot more enjoyable than I ever thought possible. I was happy which is a novel feeling to me. Jane seemed content too. Before TV and my top notch homemade meatloaf she had marveled over my antique collection, inherited from every one of my family line , A line of which I was the last a fact that saddened me greatly.
I wondered if Jane, who was a fair bit younger than me wanted kids but I didn't want to spoil the moment by asking.
As the show came to an end I looked in her green eyes "You always seem out of place, out of time. " the like me went unspoken like a lot of things did with us "If time travel was possible where would you go?"
"Oh, the 1950's, Peak America I think." Jane smiled "I'd like to live in a place where men were men and women were."
"Doubled breasted?"
She grinned and slapped my arm "No silly, women."
My heart was going to like a trip hammer "Hang on a minute, my dear."
I went into the basement and threw the switch.
If I failed I was probably looking at jail time and a stiff fine if they caught me but if I succeeded?
I sat down and played kissy face with Jane, partially to distract her but also because well I shouldn't have to explain it.
The was a weird sensation kind of like being inside a magnet and a flash of light probably caused by rogue nerve impulses.
"Whoa!" Jane said I though we had to go all the way for that."
I grinned. She was bit dizzy so I helped her up and when she peeled back the curtains I heard her exclaim "Its the fifties outside!"
"What the temperature?" I was being quite disingenuous of course. It was my T.D.S Time dimension space device that made it happen.
"No, No." Jane was excited. "It looks like the 1950's"
I came to the widow and the streets were bustling with life, it looked a like the historical photographs only alive and vibrating with color. A 52 sky blue Bel Air drive by, not an exciting car but a magnificent one. I had one once, had to part with it. Missed it. If we stayed I was going to buy it or a Packard.
She turned to me "You did this, somehow." I couldn't read her expression.
I took a deep breath, I had planned some special speech for the occasion but it was nearly all I could do to keep from stammering "Yes. I love you Jane, in about 5 minutes unless I throw another switch we'll return home, no harm no foul. But I'd like for us to stay here. I have money , birth certificates I can use and a plan, maybe for both of us?"
She trembled "Is this the past."
"Not exactly, I don't have a lot of time but its a very near parallel dimension. The differences aren't huge but its the 50's"
Jane took a deep breath "I wish I had time to decide. . Decide for me. Please."
"Its not ethical, I can't. "
She took nearly forever to decide, 15 seconds left in the bubble ."Yes." She whispered and I hit the switch. " The bubble inverted its wave form, collapsed and we were in 1953 maybe for good, maybe not. But at least for a few years if I had to find a way back.
Jane practically collapsed in my arms "What now?"
I didn't drop to one knee "Will you marry me?"
She took my cheeks in her hands "You magnificent crazy man. I thought you'd never ask."
And in a few days we were wed.
About the only thing we missed was pizza delivery .The TV shows we loved were safe on DVR stashed in a Faraday cage along with the anomalous gear and on the whole life was good.
Life ended up interesting for us and the "Other 50's" turned out to both our surprises to be a fine home for us and our 5 children as my wife and I who turned out to be a natural mad scientist herself guided history the way we wanted it.
Eventually we'd discover a cure for aging, an easier way to time travel and a few other things but those are stories for another time.
| |
[WP] When she said it was "in the fifties outside", she meant the nineteen-fifties. | As they hugged, she looked out of the window, the snowstorm raging in full force. Finally she said, "Hey! It's in the fifties outside!"
Her husband looked confused. "In this weather? I'd hazard that the nearest place that hot is tens of thousands of kilometres away, in some desert in the southern hemisphere. We just started January!"
She gave him a kiss on the nose. "Yep. The nineteen-fifties. Happy new year, honey." | Fall Back Rut
I usually don't have guests at the lair, I'm not what people back in the day would have called a confirmed bachelor or anything but being a somewhat evil and quite mad scientist, requires some privacy. I enjoy the company of smart women from time to time but nothing to serious.
I had recently split up with a full professor, she was smart but had become obsessed with some third wave feminism and critical theory which made things too awkward. The sex was fun but even I won't sleep with the crazy for too long.
Than I met Jane
She was an undergrad student at the University where I occasionally teach Physics to Freshmen and to Sophomores a small slice of karmic hell that yields me access to the schools excellent lab equipment and a small stipend that I don't need.
I thought she was going to be a fallback rut but after a great many wonderful old fashioned dates was a more than a little smitten.
To my eyes she was probably the most gorgeous woman I had every seen,
Her names was Jane McClellan and she was five eight of red headed perfection with a stratospheric IQ and apparently lonely enough to consider me good company. Like me she had nobody
As I said I was quite smitten, I was also planning to what some people might construe as kidnap her. Sort of.
Jane and I were enjoying another redhead, well that doesn't really sound like right but anyway we were watching I Love Lucy. Holding hands, mushy and a lot more enjoyable than I ever thought possible. I was happy which is a novel feeling to me. Jane seemed content too. Before TV and my top notch homemade meatloaf she had marveled over my antique collection, inherited from every one of my family line , A line of which I was the last a fact that saddened me greatly.
I wondered if Jane, who was a fair bit younger than me wanted kids but I didn't want to spoil the moment by asking.
As the show came to an end I looked in her green eyes "You always seem out of place, out of time. " the like me went unspoken like a lot of things did with us "If time travel was possible where would you go?"
"Oh, the 1950's, Peak America I think." Jane smiled "I'd like to live in a place where men were men and women were."
"Doubled breasted?"
She grinned and slapped my arm "No silly, women."
My heart was going to like a trip hammer "Hang on a minute, my dear."
I went into the basement and threw the switch.
If I failed I was probably looking at jail time and a stiff fine if they caught me but if I succeeded?
I sat down and played kissy face with Jane, partially to distract her but also because well I shouldn't have to explain it.
The was a weird sensation kind of like being inside a magnet and a flash of light probably caused by rogue nerve impulses.
"Whoa!" Jane said I though we had to go all the way for that."
I grinned. She was bit dizzy so I helped her up and when she peeled back the curtains I heard her exclaim "Its the fifties outside!"
"What the temperature?" I was being quite disingenuous of course. It was my T.D.S Time dimension space device that made it happen.
"No, No." Jane was excited. "It looks like the 1950's"
I came to the widow and the streets were bustling with life, it looked a like the historical photographs only alive and vibrating with color. A 52 sky blue Bel Air drive by, not an exciting car but a magnificent one. I had one once, had to part with it. Missed it. If we stayed I was going to buy it or a Packard.
She turned to me "You did this, somehow." I couldn't read her expression.
I took a deep breath, I had planned some special speech for the occasion but it was nearly all I could do to keep from stammering "Yes. I love you Jane, in about 5 minutes unless I throw another switch we'll return home, no harm no foul. But I'd like for us to stay here. I have money , birth certificates I can use and a plan, maybe for both of us?"
She trembled "Is this the past."
"Not exactly, I don't have a lot of time but its a very near parallel dimension. The differences aren't huge but its the 50's"
Jane took a deep breath "I wish I had time to decide. . Decide for me. Please."
"Its not ethical, I can't. "
She took nearly forever to decide, 15 seconds left in the bubble ."Yes." She whispered and I hit the switch. " The bubble inverted its wave form, collapsed and we were in 1953 maybe for good, maybe not. But at least for a few years if I had to find a way back.
Jane practically collapsed in my arms "What now?"
I didn't drop to one knee "Will you marry me?"
She took my cheeks in her hands "You magnificent crazy man. I thought you'd never ask."
And in a few days we were wed.
About the only thing we missed was pizza delivery .The TV shows we loved were safe on DVR stashed in a Faraday cage along with the anomalous gear and on the whole life was good.
Life ended up interesting for us and the "Other 50's" turned out to both our surprises to be a fine home for us and our 5 children as my wife and I who turned out to be a natural mad scientist herself guided history the way we wanted it.
Eventually we'd discover a cure for aging, an easier way to time travel and a few other things but those are stories for another time.
| |
[WP] When she said it was "in the fifties outside", she meant the nineteen-fifties. | "Back in my days-", the elderly woman started, being interrupted shortly after by a high pitch teenager voice.
"Oh GAWD grandma, its gotta be the tenth time today already! I just want to borrow the car to go to the mall, and dad took ours on a trip, now can I PULEASEH have it?!"
The future was supposed to be good, they said. A step forward, an evolution. Sure, there were roombas now, and the world didn't end in nukes, but the youth today - no respect and no sense of real effort!
Greta eyed her granddaughter for a little time. She tried to hold her gaze, but the teenager fidgeted and turned away. Was she a bit repentant about yelling at her grandmother?
"But its just one bus ride away, and I don't have money on me to give you for gas or parking or anything my dear. Plus I think your uncle might pass here later. What, are you afraid of a little bus ride, or do you want to impress a certain...what's his name, Luke?"
"N-no. No! I'm just asking for a car! But holy hell, and how do you know about Luke?! Stop snooping into my life! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO DO THAT YOU KNOW!"
Oh, the snap, as they say now. Or maybe it was something else. Be that as it may...
"SHOUTING is forbidden in this house, young lady!" Commanding her voice like a whip, just as in the old days - heh - still worked wonders. Her granddaughter went a sudden shade of pale and shut her glossy lips. Who wants lips to twinkle anyway? Your eyes should twinkle, but not your lips. "I'll go get the keys upstairs, but you better have a heartfelt apology when I come back or this is going to be the last time!"
She turned on her heels and went up the flight of stairs. On her bedroom dresser, the keys were beside a very old book written in a pidgin of Latin and English.
That book was Greta's greatest treasure. Not the house, not the dental work. That book was her own compendium of a very long lineage of witches, cyphered so that only she could really read it. At least on this side of the pond. Her daughter never took interest in anything magical, a very down to earth - quite primal, if she was being completely honest about her own daughter - so she had hoped her granddaughter would be the next in line to keep the knowledge, the traditions alive.
But not with that attitude, no sir. Luke or no Luke, she was going to be taught a lesson.
She opened the book to a certain page, said a few choices words, and felt a difference in the air pressure for just a brief moment. Looking outside he window, she saw that the city lacked a lot of the high rises. Her car keys changed to her old VW ones.
"Here my darling. Take the keys, but be warned. It's the fifties out there."
"OhIdontcare, I'm late! Thanks Grandma!"
Her granddaughter ran to the door and opened it. As late as she was, she spent the next five minutes staring, mouth agape, without saying a word.
"Now, do you want some pointers on how things ARE back in my days?"
| Fall Back Rut
I usually don't have guests at the lair, I'm not what people back in the day would have called a confirmed bachelor or anything but being a somewhat evil and quite mad scientist, requires some privacy. I enjoy the company of smart women from time to time but nothing to serious.
I had recently split up with a full professor, she was smart but had become obsessed with some third wave feminism and critical theory which made things too awkward. The sex was fun but even I won't sleep with the crazy for too long.
Than I met Jane
She was an undergrad student at the University where I occasionally teach Physics to Freshmen and to Sophomores a small slice of karmic hell that yields me access to the schools excellent lab equipment and a small stipend that I don't need.
I thought she was going to be a fallback rut but after a great many wonderful old fashioned dates was a more than a little smitten.
To my eyes she was probably the most gorgeous woman I had every seen,
Her names was Jane McClellan and she was five eight of red headed perfection with a stratospheric IQ and apparently lonely enough to consider me good company. Like me she had nobody
As I said I was quite smitten, I was also planning to what some people might construe as kidnap her. Sort of.
Jane and I were enjoying another redhead, well that doesn't really sound like right but anyway we were watching I Love Lucy. Holding hands, mushy and a lot more enjoyable than I ever thought possible. I was happy which is a novel feeling to me. Jane seemed content too. Before TV and my top notch homemade meatloaf she had marveled over my antique collection, inherited from every one of my family line , A line of which I was the last a fact that saddened me greatly.
I wondered if Jane, who was a fair bit younger than me wanted kids but I didn't want to spoil the moment by asking.
As the show came to an end I looked in her green eyes "You always seem out of place, out of time. " the like me went unspoken like a lot of things did with us "If time travel was possible where would you go?"
"Oh, the 1950's, Peak America I think." Jane smiled "I'd like to live in a place where men were men and women were."
"Doubled breasted?"
She grinned and slapped my arm "No silly, women."
My heart was going to like a trip hammer "Hang on a minute, my dear."
I went into the basement and threw the switch.
If I failed I was probably looking at jail time and a stiff fine if they caught me but if I succeeded?
I sat down and played kissy face with Jane, partially to distract her but also because well I shouldn't have to explain it.
The was a weird sensation kind of like being inside a magnet and a flash of light probably caused by rogue nerve impulses.
"Whoa!" Jane said I though we had to go all the way for that."
I grinned. She was bit dizzy so I helped her up and when she peeled back the curtains I heard her exclaim "Its the fifties outside!"
"What the temperature?" I was being quite disingenuous of course. It was my T.D.S Time dimension space device that made it happen.
"No, No." Jane was excited. "It looks like the 1950's"
I came to the widow and the streets were bustling with life, it looked a like the historical photographs only alive and vibrating with color. A 52 sky blue Bel Air drive by, not an exciting car but a magnificent one. I had one once, had to part with it. Missed it. If we stayed I was going to buy it or a Packard.
She turned to me "You did this, somehow." I couldn't read her expression.
I took a deep breath, I had planned some special speech for the occasion but it was nearly all I could do to keep from stammering "Yes. I love you Jane, in about 5 minutes unless I throw another switch we'll return home, no harm no foul. But I'd like for us to stay here. I have money , birth certificates I can use and a plan, maybe for both of us?"
She trembled "Is this the past."
"Not exactly, I don't have a lot of time but its a very near parallel dimension. The differences aren't huge but its the 50's"
Jane took a deep breath "I wish I had time to decide. . Decide for me. Please."
"Its not ethical, I can't. "
She took nearly forever to decide, 15 seconds left in the bubble ."Yes." She whispered and I hit the switch. " The bubble inverted its wave form, collapsed and we were in 1953 maybe for good, maybe not. But at least for a few years if I had to find a way back.
Jane practically collapsed in my arms "What now?"
I didn't drop to one knee "Will you marry me?"
She took my cheeks in her hands "You magnificent crazy man. I thought you'd never ask."
And in a few days we were wed.
About the only thing we missed was pizza delivery .The TV shows we loved were safe on DVR stashed in a Faraday cage along with the anomalous gear and on the whole life was good.
Life ended up interesting for us and the "Other 50's" turned out to both our surprises to be a fine home for us and our 5 children as my wife and I who turned out to be a natural mad scientist herself guided history the way we wanted it.
Eventually we'd discover a cure for aging, an easier way to time travel and a few other things but those are stories for another time.
| |
[WP] When she said it was "in the fifties outside", she meant the nineteen-fifties. | Robbie hadn't heard about the vintage car convention in town, but he had the day off, so he figured he'd try and hit it up. It was a Saturday, and the weather was absolutely beautiful, far warmer than the meteorologist had predicted. He figured if he walked along the line of Oldsmobiles, he'd be there in a jiffy. Jiffy? Where the hell did that come from? Robbie had never said the world "jiffy" in his life. Oh well. Robbie headed down Johnson Avenue and marveled at the beautiful cars.
That was two hours ago. Now Robbie was just confused. He hadn't seen a single normal car since he started walking, and there was no sign of any convention. Even worse, everyone was giving him the evil eye as he walked down the street. Why? He'd gotten that mustard stain out of his tie, he was sure of it. Robbie never liked to ask for directions, but he figured that the old man who just parked his 1948 Ford Coupe oughta have an idea of where to go. The man visibly recoiled as Robbie approached him.
"Excuse me, sir, I was wondering--"
"I don't want no damn shoe shine."
Robbie, taken aback, walked off. He'd met a few crotchety old racists in his day, but he'd never been mistaken for a damn shoe shiner. He was wearing his ginchiest tie, gosh darn it! Gosh darn it? Jeepers. Jeepers? Whatever! How could someone mistake a man in an Armani suit for a shoe shiner! He was the best injury lawyer in Douglass County, Gosh darn it!
This was too much for him. Robbie needed a seat. He collapsed onto the nearest bench and caught his breath. Maybe the heat was just getting to him. I mean, he wouldn't have worn a suit if the darn weather girl hadn't gotten the forecast wrong. Why on earth are they letting dames on the news anyway? What? Robbie would never think something like that! What in the gosh-darned heck is going on in this city?
"Boy!"
Robbie looked up from the bench and saw two police officers looking at him.
"Yes sirs, is there a problem?"
"You're gonna have to get up from this bench, boy."
"What? I haven't even been here for two minutes-"
"Now, BOY!"
Robbie paused, then stared at the officers. "No."
"No? What in the world are you trying to pull here boy?"
"What am I trying to pull? What are YOU trying to pull?!" A crowd began to gather. "I'm just trying to have a gosh-darned seat and catch my gosh-darned breath before heading down to the hot-rod bash, and now you and your pal are over here cruisin' for a bruisin'!" Robbie had no idea what in the gosh-darned world just came out of his mouth, but it felt good, by golly.
"You're coming with me, boy." The second officer yanked Robbie from his seat and handcuffed him.
"Hey, hey! What do you cats think you're doing!" Robbie yelled as a crowd watched him get dragged away. As he took one last glance at where he had sat, he noticed in horror the copper plaque on the top of the bench:
"WHITES ONLY."
And on that day, in 2016, Robbie Jefferson sparked the Civil Rights movement. | Fall Back Rut
I usually don't have guests at the lair, I'm not what people back in the day would have called a confirmed bachelor or anything but being a somewhat evil and quite mad scientist, requires some privacy. I enjoy the company of smart women from time to time but nothing to serious.
I had recently split up with a full professor, she was smart but had become obsessed with some third wave feminism and critical theory which made things too awkward. The sex was fun but even I won't sleep with the crazy for too long.
Than I met Jane
She was an undergrad student at the University where I occasionally teach Physics to Freshmen and to Sophomores a small slice of karmic hell that yields me access to the schools excellent lab equipment and a small stipend that I don't need.
I thought she was going to be a fallback rut but after a great many wonderful old fashioned dates was a more than a little smitten.
To my eyes she was probably the most gorgeous woman I had every seen,
Her names was Jane McClellan and she was five eight of red headed perfection with a stratospheric IQ and apparently lonely enough to consider me good company. Like me she had nobody
As I said I was quite smitten, I was also planning to what some people might construe as kidnap her. Sort of.
Jane and I were enjoying another redhead, well that doesn't really sound like right but anyway we were watching I Love Lucy. Holding hands, mushy and a lot more enjoyable than I ever thought possible. I was happy which is a novel feeling to me. Jane seemed content too. Before TV and my top notch homemade meatloaf she had marveled over my antique collection, inherited from every one of my family line , A line of which I was the last a fact that saddened me greatly.
I wondered if Jane, who was a fair bit younger than me wanted kids but I didn't want to spoil the moment by asking.
As the show came to an end I looked in her green eyes "You always seem out of place, out of time. " the like me went unspoken like a lot of things did with us "If time travel was possible where would you go?"
"Oh, the 1950's, Peak America I think." Jane smiled "I'd like to live in a place where men were men and women were."
"Doubled breasted?"
She grinned and slapped my arm "No silly, women."
My heart was going to like a trip hammer "Hang on a minute, my dear."
I went into the basement and threw the switch.
If I failed I was probably looking at jail time and a stiff fine if they caught me but if I succeeded?
I sat down and played kissy face with Jane, partially to distract her but also because well I shouldn't have to explain it.
The was a weird sensation kind of like being inside a magnet and a flash of light probably caused by rogue nerve impulses.
"Whoa!" Jane said I though we had to go all the way for that."
I grinned. She was bit dizzy so I helped her up and when she peeled back the curtains I heard her exclaim "Its the fifties outside!"
"What the temperature?" I was being quite disingenuous of course. It was my T.D.S Time dimension space device that made it happen.
"No, No." Jane was excited. "It looks like the 1950's"
I came to the widow and the streets were bustling with life, it looked a like the historical photographs only alive and vibrating with color. A 52 sky blue Bel Air drive by, not an exciting car but a magnificent one. I had one once, had to part with it. Missed it. If we stayed I was going to buy it or a Packard.
She turned to me "You did this, somehow." I couldn't read her expression.
I took a deep breath, I had planned some special speech for the occasion but it was nearly all I could do to keep from stammering "Yes. I love you Jane, in about 5 minutes unless I throw another switch we'll return home, no harm no foul. But I'd like for us to stay here. I have money , birth certificates I can use and a plan, maybe for both of us?"
She trembled "Is this the past."
"Not exactly, I don't have a lot of time but its a very near parallel dimension. The differences aren't huge but its the 50's"
Jane took a deep breath "I wish I had time to decide. . Decide for me. Please."
"Its not ethical, I can't. "
She took nearly forever to decide, 15 seconds left in the bubble ."Yes." She whispered and I hit the switch. " The bubble inverted its wave form, collapsed and we were in 1953 maybe for good, maybe not. But at least for a few years if I had to find a way back.
Jane practically collapsed in my arms "What now?"
I didn't drop to one knee "Will you marry me?"
She took my cheeks in her hands "You magnificent crazy man. I thought you'd never ask."
And in a few days we were wed.
About the only thing we missed was pizza delivery .The TV shows we loved were safe on DVR stashed in a Faraday cage along with the anomalous gear and on the whole life was good.
Life ended up interesting for us and the "Other 50's" turned out to both our surprises to be a fine home for us and our 5 children as my wife and I who turned out to be a natural mad scientist herself guided history the way we wanted it.
Eventually we'd discover a cure for aging, an easier way to time travel and a few other things but those are stories for another time.
| |
[WP] When she said it was "in the fifties outside", she meant the nineteen-fifties. | . . . and Mom seemed a little stunned when she said it. She sat down with a blank look on her face, having just come back from retrieving the morning paper.
"Mom, what's wrong?" I asked as she sat down. I worked at a school; this was Spring Break. I regularly traveled three hours to my hometown to be with her ever since Dad died. Seeing as how I was in my mid-thirties, and not married yet, just up and driving down to visit her was easy. During the mornings, the ritual was the same: She gets up before me, cooks breakfast, and I wake up to the smell of her usual bacon-and-eggs frying away.
Only today, something was off. **Waaaaaay** off.
She blankly handed me the paper. "I just saw Mister Agler watering his lawn."
"Mom, that's impossible. Mister Agler's been dead for five years."
"I know," She said with a hint of fear. "But it was him; I swear it." She paused. "Also, son, look at the paper."
"At what?"
"The headline."
I opened the paper. "EXPLORER 4 ROCKET LAUNCHED; U.S. SPACE PROGRAM AHEAD OF SOVIETS."
"Soviets?" I asked her, puzzled. "We don't call the Russians that anymore."
She gave me that same frightened look. "Look at the date." She pointed at the paper.
July 27, 1958.
". . . Is this a joke paper, or something? Maybe a collectible retro item?"
"No, I don't think so," she replied. "Let me take you outside; I want to show you something."
Mom got up on unsteady legs, and took me out of the front door of her two-story house, into the bright July morning of my hometown.
. . .
My hometown was Mom's hometown. She grew up a few houses away from the one we occupied now, and when she and Dad met --and eventually married-- she insisted upon moving back here. It was a good neighborhood, with almost no crime, and friendly people who mostly kept to themselves. Pretty ideal in every way. Mom had an idyllic childhood here, as did I-- straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting.
White picket fences, well-maintained front yards, etc. . . . Nothing out-of-place in what would be considered a stereotypical, "All-American town."
So, for the first few seconds we she led me outside, everything seemed normal to me: It was a sunny July morning, birds chirping, a man water his lawn by hand, and a girl jumping rope in her front yard in a small poodle skirt--
Wait a minute. Most little girls today, I find usually on cell phones, or holding tablets. Moreover, they did not wear poodle skirts. Also, people didn't water their lawns by hand anymore; most sprinkler systems were automated.
"Watch this," Mom told me, and waved at the man watering his lawn. "Mister Agler! How are you?" She yelled.
"Fine, thank you! And you?" The man said with a thick German accent. He looked a little puzzled, as though he didn't recognize my mother.
I was stunned. That was Mister Agler, only a younger version of him. It was years later before I discovered he fled Germany when the Nazis came to power, and set up a little house here.
"Fine thanks!" Mom waved back, and turned to me. "See? Also, look at the cars." She pointed at the few vehicles parked in the neighborhood.
It took me a few seconds before I realized what I saw. I was no expert on automobiles, but all of them seemed straight out of the 1940's and 50's; they all had the curves and fins of cars from that era. Mister Agler's prized 1957 Chevy was always where it was, parked in his driveway-- only now, it looked even more cherry than it did when he paid me a few bucks to wash it, as a kid.
An old car with large fins on the back turned the corner, and cruised right past. I looked inside at the driver as he went by: Fedora, horn-rimmed glasses, and Elvis Presley's "Hound Dog" coming from the car's AM radio.
"What's going on?" I asked.
"I don't know, honey. And what's more, this will freak you out the most," Mom said as she pointed at the little girl. "See her?"
"Yeah," I replied. The little girl was still jumping rope, reciting a rhyme with each jump.
"Hello, Ginny!" Mom waved at the girl.
The little girl stopped jumping her rope, waved, and went back to it.
I was shocked, and started to feel numb. "Mom, your name is Virginia."
"Uh huh," she said. "And my nickname was Ginny."
"And that was your house as a kid . . ." She would happily point it out to me as a child whenever we passed it.
Mom turned to me. "Honey, I'm pretty sure that little girl is *me*."
| Fall Back Rut
I usually don't have guests at the lair, I'm not what people back in the day would have called a confirmed bachelor or anything but being a somewhat evil and quite mad scientist, requires some privacy. I enjoy the company of smart women from time to time but nothing to serious.
I had recently split up with a full professor, she was smart but had become obsessed with some third wave feminism and critical theory which made things too awkward. The sex was fun but even I won't sleep with the crazy for too long.
Than I met Jane
She was an undergrad student at the University where I occasionally teach Physics to Freshmen and to Sophomores a small slice of karmic hell that yields me access to the schools excellent lab equipment and a small stipend that I don't need.
I thought she was going to be a fallback rut but after a great many wonderful old fashioned dates was a more than a little smitten.
To my eyes she was probably the most gorgeous woman I had every seen,
Her names was Jane McClellan and she was five eight of red headed perfection with a stratospheric IQ and apparently lonely enough to consider me good company. Like me she had nobody
As I said I was quite smitten, I was also planning to what some people might construe as kidnap her. Sort of.
Jane and I were enjoying another redhead, well that doesn't really sound like right but anyway we were watching I Love Lucy. Holding hands, mushy and a lot more enjoyable than I ever thought possible. I was happy which is a novel feeling to me. Jane seemed content too. Before TV and my top notch homemade meatloaf she had marveled over my antique collection, inherited from every one of my family line , A line of which I was the last a fact that saddened me greatly.
I wondered if Jane, who was a fair bit younger than me wanted kids but I didn't want to spoil the moment by asking.
As the show came to an end I looked in her green eyes "You always seem out of place, out of time. " the like me went unspoken like a lot of things did with us "If time travel was possible where would you go?"
"Oh, the 1950's, Peak America I think." Jane smiled "I'd like to live in a place where men were men and women were."
"Doubled breasted?"
She grinned and slapped my arm "No silly, women."
My heart was going to like a trip hammer "Hang on a minute, my dear."
I went into the basement and threw the switch.
If I failed I was probably looking at jail time and a stiff fine if they caught me but if I succeeded?
I sat down and played kissy face with Jane, partially to distract her but also because well I shouldn't have to explain it.
The was a weird sensation kind of like being inside a magnet and a flash of light probably caused by rogue nerve impulses.
"Whoa!" Jane said I though we had to go all the way for that."
I grinned. She was bit dizzy so I helped her up and when she peeled back the curtains I heard her exclaim "Its the fifties outside!"
"What the temperature?" I was being quite disingenuous of course. It was my T.D.S Time dimension space device that made it happen.
"No, No." Jane was excited. "It looks like the 1950's"
I came to the widow and the streets were bustling with life, it looked a like the historical photographs only alive and vibrating with color. A 52 sky blue Bel Air drive by, not an exciting car but a magnificent one. I had one once, had to part with it. Missed it. If we stayed I was going to buy it or a Packard.
She turned to me "You did this, somehow." I couldn't read her expression.
I took a deep breath, I had planned some special speech for the occasion but it was nearly all I could do to keep from stammering "Yes. I love you Jane, in about 5 minutes unless I throw another switch we'll return home, no harm no foul. But I'd like for us to stay here. I have money , birth certificates I can use and a plan, maybe for both of us?"
She trembled "Is this the past."
"Not exactly, I don't have a lot of time but its a very near parallel dimension. The differences aren't huge but its the 50's"
Jane took a deep breath "I wish I had time to decide. . Decide for me. Please."
"Its not ethical, I can't. "
She took nearly forever to decide, 15 seconds left in the bubble ."Yes." She whispered and I hit the switch. " The bubble inverted its wave form, collapsed and we were in 1953 maybe for good, maybe not. But at least for a few years if I had to find a way back.
Jane practically collapsed in my arms "What now?"
I didn't drop to one knee "Will you marry me?"
She took my cheeks in her hands "You magnificent crazy man. I thought you'd never ask."
And in a few days we were wed.
About the only thing we missed was pizza delivery .The TV shows we loved were safe on DVR stashed in a Faraday cage along with the anomalous gear and on the whole life was good.
Life ended up interesting for us and the "Other 50's" turned out to both our surprises to be a fine home for us and our 5 children as my wife and I who turned out to be a natural mad scientist herself guided history the way we wanted it.
Eventually we'd discover a cure for aging, an easier way to time travel and a few other things but those are stories for another time.
| |
[WP] When she said it was "in the fifties outside", she meant the nineteen-fifties. | Not sure what to expect, Marquis opened the door to gauge what to wear for class.
He saw the world outside had no color, and a trio of leather jackets strolled down the street as if they owned it.
**slam** the door shut. Marquis was just gonna get the notes from somebody tomorrow. | **When she said it was "in the fifties outside", she meant the nineteen-fifties. HAHAHAHA! You get it?**
No. That joke didn't make any sense. And keep it down, will you? Everybody else in the waiting room gave you the evil eye.
**Yeah, like I like going to the dentist, too. And thanks again for doing this. They say I gotta have a ride home after getting my wisdom teeth pulled, so who else am I gonna ask except my big brother?**
That's excellent if slightly clumsy exposition, but that doesn't change the fact that you can't tell a joke to save your life. You never could.
**Yeah, but who got to be defensive tackle on the ol' high school football team, huh?**
You did. But you did get paralyzed from the waist down. Say, how do they get that wheelchair into the dentist's chair?
**You don't wanna know.**
That bad, huh?
**The worst. And I don't get a pity discount. I pay full price, though I am but half a man.**
Do I have to be here while you wait? I mean, at this rate they're not even gonna see you for another half hour. Besides, I gotta get back to work.
**What do you do again?**
I'm the Pope.
**Oh, THAT'S where I knew your from.**
Well, and we grew up together. 'Cause we were brothers.
**So what do you do all day? Pray and bless things?**
Mostly, yeah.
**Sweet. But wait, if you're the pope, why do I need my wisdom teeth pulled? Don't I get diplomatic immunity?**
Dude, *I* don't even get that perk. Kinda looks bad, don't you think? Mouthpiece for the all powerful and I could die of kidney failure. That's fine by him. There's always another sucker waiting to be-a the pope-a.
**I call next.**
Eh... we'll talk about it. Oh, look, they just called your number. Go get your teeth pulled, and I'll be out here reading this magazine.
**What magazine?**
Uh, Swank. (awkward pause) I'm researching sin. For church. Oh, wait! NOW I get your joke! *Nineteen* fifties! HAHAHAHAHAHA!
**Great, but keep it down, they're looking at you funny.**
(to the rest of waiting room) What's the matter? Y'ain't never seen a pope in a funny hat read Swank in a Philadelphia dentist's waiting room?
(freeze frame) (laugh track) (executive producer credit) (bouncy theme song) (fade to black) | |
[WP] When she said it was "in the fifties outside", she meant the nineteen-fifties. | "No no no no no no no no..." I'll admit it, my mind was swimming. The possibility of time travel, the reality of maybe changing history. And then a very clear problem...
"Just...calm down. What's so bad about this?" Dylan was never the sharpest tool in the shed.
"I'm gay, Dylan! I can *not* be in the fifties!"
"Oh...shit."
"Yeah, oh shit. What are we going to do?!"
"Just calm down, let me think"
"Calm down. Calm. Down." I walked over to the window, and pulled aside the curtain, revealing a retro car driving down the street.
"Am I still being calm? You fuckin asshole, it's not your life at risk."
"Okay, no one's life is at risk right now! So would you *please* be calm!"
"Fine. Just...how the hell do we get out of this, tell me you've got something."
"Wh-oh, sure. Just let me get my fucking time machine out of my pocket, and we'll go on home."
"Man, I don't fucking know what you do and don't know!"
"I'm pretty sure my engineering classes don't cover applied time travel!"
"What the hell is all the yelling about?" Oh, Kyle woke up. Well, this'll be fun to explain.
"We're in the fifties."
"The hell is he on about?"
"We are in the fifties."
"...Dylan, how many of his pills did you take?"
"What? None! Just look outside!" Kyle rolled his eyes before making his way to the window.
"What am I going to see, an old car...they...no longer...okay, what's the deal?"
"We're in the fifties."
"Stop saying that, no we're not!"
"How do you know?"
"Carter would be freaking out."
"Oh, he was freaking the fuck out earlier, you should've been here."
"Fuck you."
"The answer's still no."
"Hahaha, great joke, what do we do now?"
"We don't know."
"What do you mean you don't know?"
"This is pretty new territory for us, in fact I'm pretty sure no one-" He was cut off when the house started to shake, violently, the outside world began to speed up, days started passing in minutes, then in seconds as the sun rose and fell, until finally the shaking stopped. We looked outside, we were home again.
"Jesus Christ, you guys are loud."
"Nick? Did you..."
"Yup."
"How..." He just shrugged his shoulders.
"I reversed the polarity. It's like you guys have never been time traveling before." He gave us a look before disappearing back into his room. Fucking Nick... | **When she said it was "in the fifties outside", she meant the nineteen-fifties. HAHAHAHA! You get it?**
No. That joke didn't make any sense. And keep it down, will you? Everybody else in the waiting room gave you the evil eye.
**Yeah, like I like going to the dentist, too. And thanks again for doing this. They say I gotta have a ride home after getting my wisdom teeth pulled, so who else am I gonna ask except my big brother?**
That's excellent if slightly clumsy exposition, but that doesn't change the fact that you can't tell a joke to save your life. You never could.
**Yeah, but who got to be defensive tackle on the ol' high school football team, huh?**
You did. But you did get paralyzed from the waist down. Say, how do they get that wheelchair into the dentist's chair?
**You don't wanna know.**
That bad, huh?
**The worst. And I don't get a pity discount. I pay full price, though I am but half a man.**
Do I have to be here while you wait? I mean, at this rate they're not even gonna see you for another half hour. Besides, I gotta get back to work.
**What do you do again?**
I'm the Pope.
**Oh, THAT'S where I knew your from.**
Well, and we grew up together. 'Cause we were brothers.
**So what do you do all day? Pray and bless things?**
Mostly, yeah.
**Sweet. But wait, if you're the pope, why do I need my wisdom teeth pulled? Don't I get diplomatic immunity?**
Dude, *I* don't even get that perk. Kinda looks bad, don't you think? Mouthpiece for the all powerful and I could die of kidney failure. That's fine by him. There's always another sucker waiting to be-a the pope-a.
**I call next.**
Eh... we'll talk about it. Oh, look, they just called your number. Go get your teeth pulled, and I'll be out here reading this magazine.
**What magazine?**
Uh, Swank. (awkward pause) I'm researching sin. For church. Oh, wait! NOW I get your joke! *Nineteen* fifties! HAHAHAHAHAHA!
**Great, but keep it down, they're looking at you funny.**
(to the rest of waiting room) What's the matter? Y'ain't never seen a pope in a funny hat read Swank in a Philadelphia dentist's waiting room?
(freeze frame) (laugh track) (executive producer credit) (bouncy theme song) (fade to black) | |
[WP] When she said it was "in the fifties outside", she meant the nineteen-fifties. | Not sure what to expect, Marquis opened the door to gauge what to wear for class.
He saw the world outside had no color, and a trio of leather jackets strolled down the street as if they owned it.
**slam** the door shut. Marquis was just gonna get the notes from somebody tomorrow. | It was another dreadful morning. "Another Monday." I think to myself as I try to manage myself out of bed. I start to get ready for work. I walk to my kitchen and make myself a cup of coffee. My wife walks inside and puts the newspaper on the table. "It is in the fifties outside." "In the summer?" She look at me, seeing the confusion in my eye. "It's literally in the fifties." I didn't want to argue. I go by the happy wife, happy life saying. I grab a jacket and put it on. I grab my jacket and headed out the door.
The garage was closed. I didn't know the horrors waiting outside for me. I open my car door and sit down in the leather seats. I open the garage door and start the car. I drive out of my parking lot. I look at the inside of the car. "Wait, what the hell?" I drive back into the garage and jump out of my car door. "Good morning, Thomas!" I hear my neighbor shout to me. I see him watering the garden. "Are you dressed up for church?" "No, I'm heading out to work. Why are you not at work?" "Work? It's Sunday. I get it, you are tired from working all week, now you got your days mixed up. I can dig that." "It's March 14th 2016." "2016? That''s almost 60 years from now. It's 1954! If we were in 2016 we would be driving to work at the moon." I cringe up. "Betty and I are going to see a drive-in flick tonight? Care to come with Susan?" He asks me. "Maybe." I run back inside and grab the newspaper.
*March 14th, 1954*
"Oh, God. Oh God Please No." A tear runs down my face. No more reddit. "Wait a minute." I say to myself. "No more reddit means no more internet. No more internet means no more Vine. No more Vine means. No more stupid teenagers. No hoverboard. No Challenge videos. No Viners. This is perfect actually!"
I walk back out to Jonathan. "I would love to go, I'll talk to to Susan. What movie were you thinking about?" I ask him "Oh, The Creature from the Black Lagoon. Sounds like it would be family-fun." "Yeah, Family-Fun." | |
[WP] When she said it was "in the fifties outside", she meant the nineteen-fifties. | "No no no no no no no no..." I'll admit it, my mind was swimming. The possibility of time travel, the reality of maybe changing history. And then a very clear problem...
"Just...calm down. What's so bad about this?" Dylan was never the sharpest tool in the shed.
"I'm gay, Dylan! I can *not* be in the fifties!"
"Oh...shit."
"Yeah, oh shit. What are we going to do?!"
"Just calm down, let me think"
"Calm down. Calm. Down." I walked over to the window, and pulled aside the curtain, revealing a retro car driving down the street.
"Am I still being calm? You fuckin asshole, it's not your life at risk."
"Okay, no one's life is at risk right now! So would you *please* be calm!"
"Fine. Just...how the hell do we get out of this, tell me you've got something."
"Wh-oh, sure. Just let me get my fucking time machine out of my pocket, and we'll go on home."
"Man, I don't fucking know what you do and don't know!"
"I'm pretty sure my engineering classes don't cover applied time travel!"
"What the hell is all the yelling about?" Oh, Kyle woke up. Well, this'll be fun to explain.
"We're in the fifties."
"The hell is he on about?"
"We are in the fifties."
"...Dylan, how many of his pills did you take?"
"What? None! Just look outside!" Kyle rolled his eyes before making his way to the window.
"What am I going to see, an old car...they...no longer...okay, what's the deal?"
"We're in the fifties."
"Stop saying that, no we're not!"
"How do you know?"
"Carter would be freaking out."
"Oh, he was freaking the fuck out earlier, you should've been here."
"Fuck you."
"The answer's still no."
"Hahaha, great joke, what do we do now?"
"We don't know."
"What do you mean you don't know?"
"This is pretty new territory for us, in fact I'm pretty sure no one-" He was cut off when the house started to shake, violently, the outside world began to speed up, days started passing in minutes, then in seconds as the sun rose and fell, until finally the shaking stopped. We looked outside, we were home again.
"Jesus Christ, you guys are loud."
"Nick? Did you..."
"Yup."
"How..." He just shrugged his shoulders.
"I reversed the polarity. It's like you guys have never been time traveling before." He gave us a look before disappearing back into his room. Fucking Nick... | It was another dreadful morning. "Another Monday." I think to myself as I try to manage myself out of bed. I start to get ready for work. I walk to my kitchen and make myself a cup of coffee. My wife walks inside and puts the newspaper on the table. "It is in the fifties outside." "In the summer?" She look at me, seeing the confusion in my eye. "It's literally in the fifties." I didn't want to argue. I go by the happy wife, happy life saying. I grab a jacket and put it on. I grab my jacket and headed out the door.
The garage was closed. I didn't know the horrors waiting outside for me. I open my car door and sit down in the leather seats. I open the garage door and start the car. I drive out of my parking lot. I look at the inside of the car. "Wait, what the hell?" I drive back into the garage and jump out of my car door. "Good morning, Thomas!" I hear my neighbor shout to me. I see him watering the garden. "Are you dressed up for church?" "No, I'm heading out to work. Why are you not at work?" "Work? It's Sunday. I get it, you are tired from working all week, now you got your days mixed up. I can dig that." "It's March 14th 2016." "2016? That''s almost 60 years from now. It's 1954! If we were in 2016 we would be driving to work at the moon." I cringe up. "Betty and I are going to see a drive-in flick tonight? Care to come with Susan?" He asks me. "Maybe." I run back inside and grab the newspaper.
*March 14th, 1954*
"Oh, God. Oh God Please No." A tear runs down my face. No more reddit. "Wait a minute." I say to myself. "No more reddit means no more internet. No more internet means no more Vine. No more Vine means. No more stupid teenagers. No hoverboard. No Challenge videos. No Viners. This is perfect actually!"
I walk back out to Jonathan. "I would love to go, I'll talk to to Susan. What movie were you thinking about?" I ask him "Oh, The Creature from the Black Lagoon. Sounds like it would be family-fun." "Yeah, Family-Fun." | |
[WP] When she said it was "in the fifties outside", she meant the nineteen-fifties. | "No no no no no no no no..." I'll admit it, my mind was swimming. The possibility of time travel, the reality of maybe changing history. And then a very clear problem...
"Just...calm down. What's so bad about this?" Dylan was never the sharpest tool in the shed.
"I'm gay, Dylan! I can *not* be in the fifties!"
"Oh...shit."
"Yeah, oh shit. What are we going to do?!"
"Just calm down, let me think"
"Calm down. Calm. Down." I walked over to the window, and pulled aside the curtain, revealing a retro car driving down the street.
"Am I still being calm? You fuckin asshole, it's not your life at risk."
"Okay, no one's life is at risk right now! So would you *please* be calm!"
"Fine. Just...how the hell do we get out of this, tell me you've got something."
"Wh-oh, sure. Just let me get my fucking time machine out of my pocket, and we'll go on home."
"Man, I don't fucking know what you do and don't know!"
"I'm pretty sure my engineering classes don't cover applied time travel!"
"What the hell is all the yelling about?" Oh, Kyle woke up. Well, this'll be fun to explain.
"We're in the fifties."
"The hell is he on about?"
"We are in the fifties."
"...Dylan, how many of his pills did you take?"
"What? None! Just look outside!" Kyle rolled his eyes before making his way to the window.
"What am I going to see, an old car...they...no longer...okay, what's the deal?"
"We're in the fifties."
"Stop saying that, no we're not!"
"How do you know?"
"Carter would be freaking out."
"Oh, he was freaking the fuck out earlier, you should've been here."
"Fuck you."
"The answer's still no."
"Hahaha, great joke, what do we do now?"
"We don't know."
"What do you mean you don't know?"
"This is pretty new territory for us, in fact I'm pretty sure no one-" He was cut off when the house started to shake, violently, the outside world began to speed up, days started passing in minutes, then in seconds as the sun rose and fell, until finally the shaking stopped. We looked outside, we were home again.
"Jesus Christ, you guys are loud."
"Nick? Did you..."
"Yup."
"How..." He just shrugged his shoulders.
"I reversed the polarity. It's like you guys have never been time traveling before." He gave us a look before disappearing back into his room. Fucking Nick... | "Hey, honey, before you go, it's the fifties outside"
"Oh, thanks, let me change my shirt"
I walked outside and it was the temperature the earth was supposed to be at, a balmy 85 in the middle of July. Given my latitude and longitude, this was the temperature mandated by the ES. Thank god, I thought. I walked out of my grey SHC mandated housing project. Maybe my wife misread the Sandometer (it's a ES approved thermometer that uses a certain type of sand, it's accurate within 30 degrees)
I opened my self-driving two-seater car and pressed "work" on the dashboard. I looked around for my crucifix, but it wasn't there. I asked the car, and it said that there was a person in my car at 3 AM. The person was a federal official working for the Religious Tolerance council. Apparently a law was passed at 12 AM that you would be fined if you were found with an item deemed intolerant of the new refugees.
I was wondering what my wife meant by "fifties", when I looked at the news. The President announced a program that he said would "mimic 1950's Russia". So that's what she meant. Well that's a relief, I thought that the anti-global warming efforts of the government had been stopped by capitalists.
I went to my job at the refugee center (which was a complex of former capitalists' houses) where I was greeted by my employer.
"John, people you are supposed to be taking care of have been accused of raping several women, and due to the new laws, you're responsible. You need to report to Re-education at once."
I was eventually sent to an Alaska gulag where I lived for 10 years until the collapse of the United Sandist Socialist States and the rise of Russian democracy.
Sanders 2016.
______________________________________________________
Someone made an anti-Trump one, it's all in good fun, I'm not being a twat. | |
[WP] When she said it was "in the fifties outside", she meant the nineteen-fifties. | "Looks like you're my sister and we have to go to school today. Our bus gets us in an hour."
"Greeaat," she replied. "And it's in the fifties outside." When she said it was "in the fifties outside", she meant the nineteen-fifties. Sort of a comedic way the actors talk to each other in here. Waking up in a different house at a different time with different belongings every day requires a good sense of humor.
At any given time, whether it's in the fifties, the nineties, the o's, the entire cast consists of two thousand or so actors. Most of us flip flop around playing different rolls. Others are sort of background actors that work mostly with logistics and getting people in line. Then of course, there's the scattering of lead rolls and those that play an integral roll in their lives.
Time and place are sort of illusory unless you play a major roll. Most of us are here and there flip-floppiting around filling in the blanks and connecting the dots. This is all integral to gearing up the plots for the lead rolls.
Let's say a lead role was broke and he needed about 100 bucks to enjoy the night out on his birthday. We know that he is going to grab a lottery ticket at a certain time that day. We can get him to win without too much fuckery. That is to say, we won't directly rig the entire lottery system so that he will win. Instead, we rig the people who go in and buy the lottery tickets before him.
Using a method we call "Tracing", we are able to check which lottery scratcher the lead roll is going to buy. Then we go back and see who won on the same scratcher previous to him. Once we find a good winner, we go back again and have those winning actors divert their purchases. The lead comes in and purchases the winning ticket. Happy Birthday!
It sounds complicated, and it is, but with our logistics crew things tend to run smoothly. At least things seem to run smoothly in the spotlight. If there's a little bump in the road it will get worked out within a minimal time buffer. If things run off the rails, as they do from time to time, we simply run a set of procedures called a "White Out".
White Outs are pretty serious and are avoided at all costs. But when shit really hit's the fan and things are about to fall apart this is our save all. Typically a White Out involves carefully securing the lead rolls for a given period of time. Sometimes a week and other times a year. It all depends on how far we have to go back and reorganize. We never go back passed the nineteen-hundreds. That book is closed.
It should also be noted that most lead actors are not aware that they are actors when they are on set. Some figure it out. The other actors tend to mess with them at this point and there's not much the leads can really do about it. So if you're a lead roll ignorance is bliss unless your story already sucks.
So why do we do it? It's a fun job and we get free food. Working on the set of The Greatest Story Ever Told is a privilege. The story never ends, it just changes, and gets better. The lights turn on in 1897 and the possibilities start unfolding in 1987. What a great time to be alive! | "You promised me crystal beaches and beautiful mountain peaks on the 8th Valethian sun! So why is it Earth, 1950s outside?" she grumbled, as she stepped back inside.
"Ah well, something must have pulled us here," the doctor replied gaily, turning away from the controls of the TARDIS. "Let's go find out what it is!" | |
[WP] When she said it was "in the fifties outside", she meant the nineteen-fifties. | As they hugged, she looked out of the window, the snowstorm raging in full force. Finally she said, "Hey! It's in the fifties outside!"
Her husband looked confused. "In this weather? I'd hazard that the nearest place that hot is tens of thousands of kilometres away, in some desert in the southern hemisphere. We just started January!"
She gave him a kiss on the nose. "Yep. The nineteen-fifties. Happy new year, honey." | "You promised me crystal beaches and beautiful mountain peaks on the 8th Valethian sun! So why is it Earth, 1950s outside?" she grumbled, as she stepped back inside.
"Ah well, something must have pulled us here," the doctor replied gaily, turning away from the controls of the TARDIS. "Let's go find out what it is!" | |
[WP] When she said it was "in the fifties outside", she meant the nineteen-fifties. | "Back in my days-", the elderly woman started, being interrupted shortly after by a high pitch teenager voice.
"Oh GAWD grandma, its gotta be the tenth time today already! I just want to borrow the car to go to the mall, and dad took ours on a trip, now can I PULEASEH have it?!"
The future was supposed to be good, they said. A step forward, an evolution. Sure, there were roombas now, and the world didn't end in nukes, but the youth today - no respect and no sense of real effort!
Greta eyed her granddaughter for a little time. She tried to hold her gaze, but the teenager fidgeted and turned away. Was she a bit repentant about yelling at her grandmother?
"But its just one bus ride away, and I don't have money on me to give you for gas or parking or anything my dear. Plus I think your uncle might pass here later. What, are you afraid of a little bus ride, or do you want to impress a certain...what's his name, Luke?"
"N-no. No! I'm just asking for a car! But holy hell, and how do you know about Luke?! Stop snooping into my life! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO DO THAT YOU KNOW!"
Oh, the snap, as they say now. Or maybe it was something else. Be that as it may...
"SHOUTING is forbidden in this house, young lady!" Commanding her voice like a whip, just as in the old days - heh - still worked wonders. Her granddaughter went a sudden shade of pale and shut her glossy lips. Who wants lips to twinkle anyway? Your eyes should twinkle, but not your lips. "I'll go get the keys upstairs, but you better have a heartfelt apology when I come back or this is going to be the last time!"
She turned on her heels and went up the flight of stairs. On her bedroom dresser, the keys were beside a very old book written in a pidgin of Latin and English.
That book was Greta's greatest treasure. Not the house, not the dental work. That book was her own compendium of a very long lineage of witches, cyphered so that only she could really read it. At least on this side of the pond. Her daughter never took interest in anything magical, a very down to earth - quite primal, if she was being completely honest about her own daughter - so she had hoped her granddaughter would be the next in line to keep the knowledge, the traditions alive.
But not with that attitude, no sir. Luke or no Luke, she was going to be taught a lesson.
She opened the book to a certain page, said a few choices words, and felt a difference in the air pressure for just a brief moment. Looking outside he window, she saw that the city lacked a lot of the high rises. Her car keys changed to her old VW ones.
"Here my darling. Take the keys, but be warned. It's the fifties out there."
"OhIdontcare, I'm late! Thanks Grandma!"
Her granddaughter ran to the door and opened it. As late as she was, she spent the next five minutes staring, mouth agape, without saying a word.
"Now, do you want some pointers on how things ARE back in my days?"
| "You promised me crystal beaches and beautiful mountain peaks on the 8th Valethian sun! So why is it Earth, 1950s outside?" she grumbled, as she stepped back inside.
"Ah well, something must have pulled us here," the doctor replied gaily, turning away from the controls of the TARDIS. "Let's go find out what it is!" | |
[WP] When she said it was "in the fifties outside", she meant the nineteen-fifties. | "Looks like you're my sister and we have to go to school today. Our bus gets us in an hour."
"Greeaat," she replied. "And it's in the fifties outside." When she said it was "in the fifties outside", she meant the nineteen-fifties. Sort of a comedic way the actors talk to each other in here. Waking up in a different house at a different time with different belongings every day requires a good sense of humor.
At any given time, whether it's in the fifties, the nineties, the o's, the entire cast consists of two thousand or so actors. Most of us flip flop around playing different rolls. Others are sort of background actors that work mostly with logistics and getting people in line. Then of course, there's the scattering of lead rolls and those that play an integral roll in their lives.
Time and place are sort of illusory unless you play a major roll. Most of us are here and there flip-floppiting around filling in the blanks and connecting the dots. This is all integral to gearing up the plots for the lead rolls.
Let's say a lead role was broke and he needed about 100 bucks to enjoy the night out on his birthday. We know that he is going to grab a lottery ticket at a certain time that day. We can get him to win without too much fuckery. That is to say, we won't directly rig the entire lottery system so that he will win. Instead, we rig the people who go in and buy the lottery tickets before him.
Using a method we call "Tracing", we are able to check which lottery scratcher the lead roll is going to buy. Then we go back and see who won on the same scratcher previous to him. Once we find a good winner, we go back again and have those winning actors divert their purchases. The lead comes in and purchases the winning ticket. Happy Birthday!
It sounds complicated, and it is, but with our logistics crew things tend to run smoothly. At least things seem to run smoothly in the spotlight. If there's a little bump in the road it will get worked out within a minimal time buffer. If things run off the rails, as they do from time to time, we simply run a set of procedures called a "White Out".
White Outs are pretty serious and are avoided at all costs. But when shit really hit's the fan and things are about to fall apart this is our save all. Typically a White Out involves carefully securing the lead rolls for a given period of time. Sometimes a week and other times a year. It all depends on how far we have to go back and reorganize. We never go back passed the nineteen-hundreds. That book is closed.
It should also be noted that most lead actors are not aware that they are actors when they are on set. Some figure it out. The other actors tend to mess with them at this point and there's not much the leads can really do about it. So if you're a lead roll ignorance is bliss unless your story already sucks.
So why do we do it? It's a fun job and we get free food. Working on the set of The Greatest Story Ever Told is a privilege. The story never ends, it just changes, and gets better. The lights turn on in 1897 and the possibilities start unfolding in 1987. What a great time to be alive! | The broadcast transmitted again to an empty room.
"It'll be in the fifties again"
It had been 12 years since the Energy Conglomerate collected the atmosphere to use the base elements in their new fuel initiatives. Temperatures now are measured in the 1900s during the day and the -1800s at night
There were a few scientists and tree huggers who raged out against the issue, but they were quickly silenced by the SS.
The federal governments of the world did nothing to stop it. it's not like they could, not when the US is protecting the ECg. The only country that hadn't been forcibly demilitarized by the US regime was Russia, but Putin was our president's best hunting buddy. Rumor has it they snagged the last black rhino shortly before the entirety of Africa burned to cinders. Even the Sahara was ruined when it turned to glass.
There's nothing to be done anymore, except to hope our perpetual leader can trump this catastrophe.
There are rumours that a time machine is being developed by the Swedes. Their large Haddon collided is the last bastion of science. Hopefully they go back and stop
Vote for Trump 2016 | |
[WP] When she said it was "in the fifties outside", she meant the nineteen-fifties. | As they hugged, she looked out of the window, the snowstorm raging in full force. Finally she said, "Hey! It's in the fifties outside!"
Her husband looked confused. "In this weather? I'd hazard that the nearest place that hot is tens of thousands of kilometres away, in some desert in the southern hemisphere. We just started January!"
She gave him a kiss on the nose. "Yep. The nineteen-fifties. Happy new year, honey." | The broadcast transmitted again to an empty room.
"It'll be in the fifties again"
It had been 12 years since the Energy Conglomerate collected the atmosphere to use the base elements in their new fuel initiatives. Temperatures now are measured in the 1900s during the day and the -1800s at night
There were a few scientists and tree huggers who raged out against the issue, but they were quickly silenced by the SS.
The federal governments of the world did nothing to stop it. it's not like they could, not when the US is protecting the ECg. The only country that hadn't been forcibly demilitarized by the US regime was Russia, but Putin was our president's best hunting buddy. Rumor has it they snagged the last black rhino shortly before the entirety of Africa burned to cinders. Even the Sahara was ruined when it turned to glass.
There's nothing to be done anymore, except to hope our perpetual leader can trump this catastrophe.
There are rumours that a time machine is being developed by the Swedes. Their large Haddon collided is the last bastion of science. Hopefully they go back and stop
Vote for Trump 2016 | |
[WP] When she said it was "in the fifties outside", she meant the nineteen-fifties. | "Back in my days-", the elderly woman started, being interrupted shortly after by a high pitch teenager voice.
"Oh GAWD grandma, its gotta be the tenth time today already! I just want to borrow the car to go to the mall, and dad took ours on a trip, now can I PULEASEH have it?!"
The future was supposed to be good, they said. A step forward, an evolution. Sure, there were roombas now, and the world didn't end in nukes, but the youth today - no respect and no sense of real effort!
Greta eyed her granddaughter for a little time. She tried to hold her gaze, but the teenager fidgeted and turned away. Was she a bit repentant about yelling at her grandmother?
"But its just one bus ride away, and I don't have money on me to give you for gas or parking or anything my dear. Plus I think your uncle might pass here later. What, are you afraid of a little bus ride, or do you want to impress a certain...what's his name, Luke?"
"N-no. No! I'm just asking for a car! But holy hell, and how do you know about Luke?! Stop snooping into my life! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO DO THAT YOU KNOW!"
Oh, the snap, as they say now. Or maybe it was something else. Be that as it may...
"SHOUTING is forbidden in this house, young lady!" Commanding her voice like a whip, just as in the old days - heh - still worked wonders. Her granddaughter went a sudden shade of pale and shut her glossy lips. Who wants lips to twinkle anyway? Your eyes should twinkle, but not your lips. "I'll go get the keys upstairs, but you better have a heartfelt apology when I come back or this is going to be the last time!"
She turned on her heels and went up the flight of stairs. On her bedroom dresser, the keys were beside a very old book written in a pidgin of Latin and English.
That book was Greta's greatest treasure. Not the house, not the dental work. That book was her own compendium of a very long lineage of witches, cyphered so that only she could really read it. At least on this side of the pond. Her daughter never took interest in anything magical, a very down to earth - quite primal, if she was being completely honest about her own daughter - so she had hoped her granddaughter would be the next in line to keep the knowledge, the traditions alive.
But not with that attitude, no sir. Luke or no Luke, she was going to be taught a lesson.
She opened the book to a certain page, said a few choices words, and felt a difference in the air pressure for just a brief moment. Looking outside he window, she saw that the city lacked a lot of the high rises. Her car keys changed to her old VW ones.
"Here my darling. Take the keys, but be warned. It's the fifties out there."
"OhIdontcare, I'm late! Thanks Grandma!"
Her granddaughter ran to the door and opened it. As late as she was, she spent the next five minutes staring, mouth agape, without saying a word.
"Now, do you want some pointers on how things ARE back in my days?"
| The broadcast transmitted again to an empty room.
"It'll be in the fifties again"
It had been 12 years since the Energy Conglomerate collected the atmosphere to use the base elements in their new fuel initiatives. Temperatures now are measured in the 1900s during the day and the -1800s at night
There were a few scientists and tree huggers who raged out against the issue, but they were quickly silenced by the SS.
The federal governments of the world did nothing to stop it. it's not like they could, not when the US is protecting the ECg. The only country that hadn't been forcibly demilitarized by the US regime was Russia, but Putin was our president's best hunting buddy. Rumor has it they snagged the last black rhino shortly before the entirety of Africa burned to cinders. Even the Sahara was ruined when it turned to glass.
There's nothing to be done anymore, except to hope our perpetual leader can trump this catastrophe.
There are rumours that a time machine is being developed by the Swedes. Their large Haddon collided is the last bastion of science. Hopefully they go back and stop
Vote for Trump 2016 | |
[WP] When she said it was "in the fifties outside", she meant the nineteen-fifties. | "Back in my days-", the elderly woman started, being interrupted shortly after by a high pitch teenager voice.
"Oh GAWD grandma, its gotta be the tenth time today already! I just want to borrow the car to go to the mall, and dad took ours on a trip, now can I PULEASEH have it?!"
The future was supposed to be good, they said. A step forward, an evolution. Sure, there were roombas now, and the world didn't end in nukes, but the youth today - no respect and no sense of real effort!
Greta eyed her granddaughter for a little time. She tried to hold her gaze, but the teenager fidgeted and turned away. Was she a bit repentant about yelling at her grandmother?
"But its just one bus ride away, and I don't have money on me to give you for gas or parking or anything my dear. Plus I think your uncle might pass here later. What, are you afraid of a little bus ride, or do you want to impress a certain...what's his name, Luke?"
"N-no. No! I'm just asking for a car! But holy hell, and how do you know about Luke?! Stop snooping into my life! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO DO THAT YOU KNOW!"
Oh, the snap, as they say now. Or maybe it was something else. Be that as it may...
"SHOUTING is forbidden in this house, young lady!" Commanding her voice like a whip, just as in the old days - heh - still worked wonders. Her granddaughter went a sudden shade of pale and shut her glossy lips. Who wants lips to twinkle anyway? Your eyes should twinkle, but not your lips. "I'll go get the keys upstairs, but you better have a heartfelt apology when I come back or this is going to be the last time!"
She turned on her heels and went up the flight of stairs. On her bedroom dresser, the keys were beside a very old book written in a pidgin of Latin and English.
That book was Greta's greatest treasure. Not the house, not the dental work. That book was her own compendium of a very long lineage of witches, cyphered so that only she could really read it. At least on this side of the pond. Her daughter never took interest in anything magical, a very down to earth - quite primal, if she was being completely honest about her own daughter - so she had hoped her granddaughter would be the next in line to keep the knowledge, the traditions alive.
But not with that attitude, no sir. Luke or no Luke, she was going to be taught a lesson.
She opened the book to a certain page, said a few choices words, and felt a difference in the air pressure for just a brief moment. Looking outside he window, she saw that the city lacked a lot of the high rises. Her car keys changed to her old VW ones.
"Here my darling. Take the keys, but be warned. It's the fifties out there."
"OhIdontcare, I'm late! Thanks Grandma!"
Her granddaughter ran to the door and opened it. As late as she was, she spent the next five minutes staring, mouth agape, without saying a word.
"Now, do you want some pointers on how things ARE back in my days?"
| As they hugged, she looked out of the window, the snowstorm raging in full force. Finally she said, "Hey! It's in the fifties outside!"
Her husband looked confused. "In this weather? I'd hazard that the nearest place that hot is tens of thousands of kilometres away, in some desert in the southern hemisphere. We just started January!"
She gave him a kiss on the nose. "Yep. The nineteen-fifties. Happy new year, honey." | |
[WP] When she said it was "in the fifties outside", she meant the nineteen-fifties. | "Back in my days-", the elderly woman started, being interrupted shortly after by a high pitch teenager voice.
"Oh GAWD grandma, its gotta be the tenth time today already! I just want to borrow the car to go to the mall, and dad took ours on a trip, now can I PULEASEH have it?!"
The future was supposed to be good, they said. A step forward, an evolution. Sure, there were roombas now, and the world didn't end in nukes, but the youth today - no respect and no sense of real effort!
Greta eyed her granddaughter for a little time. She tried to hold her gaze, but the teenager fidgeted and turned away. Was she a bit repentant about yelling at her grandmother?
"But its just one bus ride away, and I don't have money on me to give you for gas or parking or anything my dear. Plus I think your uncle might pass here later. What, are you afraid of a little bus ride, or do you want to impress a certain...what's his name, Luke?"
"N-no. No! I'm just asking for a car! But holy hell, and how do you know about Luke?! Stop snooping into my life! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO DO THAT YOU KNOW!"
Oh, the snap, as they say now. Or maybe it was something else. Be that as it may...
"SHOUTING is forbidden in this house, young lady!" Commanding her voice like a whip, just as in the old days - heh - still worked wonders. Her granddaughter went a sudden shade of pale and shut her glossy lips. Who wants lips to twinkle anyway? Your eyes should twinkle, but not your lips. "I'll go get the keys upstairs, but you better have a heartfelt apology when I come back or this is going to be the last time!"
She turned on her heels and went up the flight of stairs. On her bedroom dresser, the keys were beside a very old book written in a pidgin of Latin and English.
That book was Greta's greatest treasure. Not the house, not the dental work. That book was her own compendium of a very long lineage of witches, cyphered so that only she could really read it. At least on this side of the pond. Her daughter never took interest in anything magical, a very down to earth - quite primal, if she was being completely honest about her own daughter - so she had hoped her granddaughter would be the next in line to keep the knowledge, the traditions alive.
But not with that attitude, no sir. Luke or no Luke, she was going to be taught a lesson.
She opened the book to a certain page, said a few choices words, and felt a difference in the air pressure for just a brief moment. Looking outside he window, she saw that the city lacked a lot of the high rises. Her car keys changed to her old VW ones.
"Here my darling. Take the keys, but be warned. It's the fifties out there."
"OhIdontcare, I'm late! Thanks Grandma!"
Her granddaughter ran to the door and opened it. As late as she was, she spent the next five minutes staring, mouth agape, without saying a word.
"Now, do you want some pointers on how things ARE back in my days?"
| "All right, fellas. I'm out of here-- tons of shit to do in the morning"
"I hear ya, pal"
"Yeah, take care John"
John gave a nod as he threw on his coat and began the short walk back to his home. As always, on Friday's he got together with his best friends down the street to throw back a couple beers and talk crap.
He was a little tipsy, though he had the tolerance of a man who had been been training every weekend for 30 years. He stumbled over the front porch step and made his way into the street.
The silence of the neighborhood was penetrated only by his footsteps and the soft rattle of dead leaves sliding across the asphalt. John smiled to himself; nothing more peaceful than a night in fall.
Almost instantly after the thought crossed his mind, the feeling of peace was gone. As he squinted just ahead on the corner leading to his home, he saw a man standing in a long brown coat. He paused for a moment and rubbed his blurry eyes.
He checked his watch. 12:30 AM. How odd.
Mostly shocked, but unafraid, he continued his midnight saunter. He shuffled onto the sidewalk to not draw undue attention to himself.
The man paid no attention to him as he passed-- that is, until he passed.
"John."
On hearing his name, he froze. The little bit of Bud Light that had been floating around in his brain was suddenly nowhere to be found. He turned to look at the man, who had his arm extended holding some kind of pink flask.
"A gift".
Only the man's mouth was visible, smiling serenely. John reached for the flask with a couple seconds of consideration. He would probably just throw it away as soon as he got home. However, as soon as he touched it the man vanished and his world faded.
He awoke in his own bed with a grunt and... no alarm. Saturday.
As he walked to the coffee pot, he began to recall the events of last night. It must have been the beer, right?
As he entered the kitchen, his wife at the table beamed at him.
"Morning honey!"
He grumbled happily, but was locked onto the nearly empty coffee pot.
"Oh, that coffee's not fresh. Let me start you a new pot."
Before his eyes, the coffee pot filled. He stopped.
What the hell was going on?
"Oh. You made more?" She said as she approached the pot. "Great! I'll pour you a cup."
John fell into his chair.
She knew he was useless for conversation until he had some coffee, so she gave him a couple sips and then...
"Your mother called, you should give her a call back before she starts calling me. What do we need at the grocery store? Do you want to go for a walk later? It's a lovely day, I went to get the mail and it feels like its in the fifties outside."
He loved her Saturday morning vigor. The familiarity of his routine made him feel less crazy.
*Knock knock knock*
"I'll get it." she said happily and rushed to the door.
That's when he noticed it. The flask, sitting on the counter. A quarter of the pink liquid was gone, and the ornate glass cap was sitting neatly next to it.
"Hooooooney!" he heard from the other room.
As he walked in, she handed him a bottle of milk with a confounded half-smile. He was ready to fall over by this point, trying to think of the name of the psychiatrist his sister was telling him about.
His wife had left the door open, and they both watched the milk man climb back into his buggy and continue down the street. | |
[WP] When she said it was "in the fifties outside", she meant the nineteen-fifties. | Robbie hadn't heard about the vintage car convention in town, but he had the day off, so he figured he'd try and hit it up. It was a Saturday, and the weather was absolutely beautiful, far warmer than the meteorologist had predicted. He figured if he walked along the line of Oldsmobiles, he'd be there in a jiffy. Jiffy? Where the hell did that come from? Robbie had never said the world "jiffy" in his life. Oh well. Robbie headed down Johnson Avenue and marveled at the beautiful cars.
That was two hours ago. Now Robbie was just confused. He hadn't seen a single normal car since he started walking, and there was no sign of any convention. Even worse, everyone was giving him the evil eye as he walked down the street. Why? He'd gotten that mustard stain out of his tie, he was sure of it. Robbie never liked to ask for directions, but he figured that the old man who just parked his 1948 Ford Coupe oughta have an idea of where to go. The man visibly recoiled as Robbie approached him.
"Excuse me, sir, I was wondering--"
"I don't want no damn shoe shine."
Robbie, taken aback, walked off. He'd met a few crotchety old racists in his day, but he'd never been mistaken for a damn shoe shiner. He was wearing his ginchiest tie, gosh darn it! Gosh darn it? Jeepers. Jeepers? Whatever! How could someone mistake a man in an Armani suit for a shoe shiner! He was the best injury lawyer in Douglass County, Gosh darn it!
This was too much for him. Robbie needed a seat. He collapsed onto the nearest bench and caught his breath. Maybe the heat was just getting to him. I mean, he wouldn't have worn a suit if the darn weather girl hadn't gotten the forecast wrong. Why on earth are they letting dames on the news anyway? What? Robbie would never think something like that! What in the gosh-darned heck is going on in this city?
"Boy!"
Robbie looked up from the bench and saw two police officers looking at him.
"Yes sirs, is there a problem?"
"You're gonna have to get up from this bench, boy."
"What? I haven't even been here for two minutes-"
"Now, BOY!"
Robbie paused, then stared at the officers. "No."
"No? What in the world are you trying to pull here boy?"
"What am I trying to pull? What are YOU trying to pull?!" A crowd began to gather. "I'm just trying to have a gosh-darned seat and catch my gosh-darned breath before heading down to the hot-rod bash, and now you and your pal are over here cruisin' for a bruisin'!" Robbie had no idea what in the gosh-darned world just came out of his mouth, but it felt good, by golly.
"You're coming with me, boy." The second officer yanked Robbie from his seat and handcuffed him.
"Hey, hey! What do you cats think you're doing!" Robbie yelled as a crowd watched him get dragged away. As he took one last glance at where he had sat, he noticed in horror the copper plaque on the top of the bench:
"WHITES ONLY."
And on that day, in 2016, Robbie Jefferson sparked the Civil Rights movement. | "All right, fellas. I'm out of here-- tons of shit to do in the morning"
"I hear ya, pal"
"Yeah, take care John"
John gave a nod as he threw on his coat and began the short walk back to his home. As always, on Friday's he got together with his best friends down the street to throw back a couple beers and talk crap.
He was a little tipsy, though he had the tolerance of a man who had been been training every weekend for 30 years. He stumbled over the front porch step and made his way into the street.
The silence of the neighborhood was penetrated only by his footsteps and the soft rattle of dead leaves sliding across the asphalt. John smiled to himself; nothing more peaceful than a night in fall.
Almost instantly after the thought crossed his mind, the feeling of peace was gone. As he squinted just ahead on the corner leading to his home, he saw a man standing in a long brown coat. He paused for a moment and rubbed his blurry eyes.
He checked his watch. 12:30 AM. How odd.
Mostly shocked, but unafraid, he continued his midnight saunter. He shuffled onto the sidewalk to not draw undue attention to himself.
The man paid no attention to him as he passed-- that is, until he passed.
"John."
On hearing his name, he froze. The little bit of Bud Light that had been floating around in his brain was suddenly nowhere to be found. He turned to look at the man, who had his arm extended holding some kind of pink flask.
"A gift".
Only the man's mouth was visible, smiling serenely. John reached for the flask with a couple seconds of consideration. He would probably just throw it away as soon as he got home. However, as soon as he touched it the man vanished and his world faded.
He awoke in his own bed with a grunt and... no alarm. Saturday.
As he walked to the coffee pot, he began to recall the events of last night. It must have been the beer, right?
As he entered the kitchen, his wife at the table beamed at him.
"Morning honey!"
He grumbled happily, but was locked onto the nearly empty coffee pot.
"Oh, that coffee's not fresh. Let me start you a new pot."
Before his eyes, the coffee pot filled. He stopped.
What the hell was going on?
"Oh. You made more?" She said as she approached the pot. "Great! I'll pour you a cup."
John fell into his chair.
She knew he was useless for conversation until he had some coffee, so she gave him a couple sips and then...
"Your mother called, you should give her a call back before she starts calling me. What do we need at the grocery store? Do you want to go for a walk later? It's a lovely day, I went to get the mail and it feels like its in the fifties outside."
He loved her Saturday morning vigor. The familiarity of his routine made him feel less crazy.
*Knock knock knock*
"I'll get it." she said happily and rushed to the door.
That's when he noticed it. The flask, sitting on the counter. A quarter of the pink liquid was gone, and the ornate glass cap was sitting neatly next to it.
"Hooooooney!" he heard from the other room.
As he walked in, she handed him a bottle of milk with a confounded half-smile. He was ready to fall over by this point, trying to think of the name of the psychiatrist his sister was telling him about.
His wife had left the door open, and they both watched the milk man climb back into his buggy and continue down the street. | |
[WP] When she said it was "in the fifties outside", she meant the nineteen-fifties. | _______________________________________________________________
***Log#: 3467***
***Date: 12***
***Month: 03***
***Year: 1250685950 After Exodus; 5070131950 A.D***
***Surface Temperature:***
***...***
_________________________________________________________
hmmm... temperature...
"Hey Sarah, whats the Temperature outside today?"
"My phone says its in the 50s"
"k, thanks"
_____________________________________________________________
***Surface Temperture: 1950 °C***
***Population: 34 Billion***
***Priority:***
***...***
__________________________________________________________
hmmm... priority...priority...
Damn, I always hated writing these logs. I guess its part of the job, but its basically the same shit everyday.
Its been a billion years since humanity declared Earth uninhabitable and left, but for some stupid reason my ancestors decided to stay.
fucking ancestors...
Ever since the Sun expanded to a Super giant, those idiots moved underground.
I mean, did they really expect humanity to survive in a rock where the average fucking surface temperature is 1950 °C??
At least we have the technology to sustain our energy and consumption needs, but overpopulation is starting to become a real problem now...
hmm enough bitching to myself, I'd better finish this log...
priority... Gee i dunno, get the fuck off this rock?
_____________________________________________________________
***Priority: find plans from Archives***
| "All right, fellas. I'm out of here-- tons of shit to do in the morning"
"I hear ya, pal"
"Yeah, take care John"
John gave a nod as he threw on his coat and began the short walk back to his home. As always, on Friday's he got together with his best friends down the street to throw back a couple beers and talk crap.
He was a little tipsy, though he had the tolerance of a man who had been been training every weekend for 30 years. He stumbled over the front porch step and made his way into the street.
The silence of the neighborhood was penetrated only by his footsteps and the soft rattle of dead leaves sliding across the asphalt. John smiled to himself; nothing more peaceful than a night in fall.
Almost instantly after the thought crossed his mind, the feeling of peace was gone. As he squinted just ahead on the corner leading to his home, he saw a man standing in a long brown coat. He paused for a moment and rubbed his blurry eyes.
He checked his watch. 12:30 AM. How odd.
Mostly shocked, but unafraid, he continued his midnight saunter. He shuffled onto the sidewalk to not draw undue attention to himself.
The man paid no attention to him as he passed-- that is, until he passed.
"John."
On hearing his name, he froze. The little bit of Bud Light that had been floating around in his brain was suddenly nowhere to be found. He turned to look at the man, who had his arm extended holding some kind of pink flask.
"A gift".
Only the man's mouth was visible, smiling serenely. John reached for the flask with a couple seconds of consideration. He would probably just throw it away as soon as he got home. However, as soon as he touched it the man vanished and his world faded.
He awoke in his own bed with a grunt and... no alarm. Saturday.
As he walked to the coffee pot, he began to recall the events of last night. It must have been the beer, right?
As he entered the kitchen, his wife at the table beamed at him.
"Morning honey!"
He grumbled happily, but was locked onto the nearly empty coffee pot.
"Oh, that coffee's not fresh. Let me start you a new pot."
Before his eyes, the coffee pot filled. He stopped.
What the hell was going on?
"Oh. You made more?" She said as she approached the pot. "Great! I'll pour you a cup."
John fell into his chair.
She knew he was useless for conversation until he had some coffee, so she gave him a couple sips and then...
"Your mother called, you should give her a call back before she starts calling me. What do we need at the grocery store? Do you want to go for a walk later? It's a lovely day, I went to get the mail and it feels like its in the fifties outside."
He loved her Saturday morning vigor. The familiarity of his routine made him feel less crazy.
*Knock knock knock*
"I'll get it." she said happily and rushed to the door.
That's when he noticed it. The flask, sitting on the counter. A quarter of the pink liquid was gone, and the ornate glass cap was sitting neatly next to it.
"Hooooooney!" he heard from the other room.
As he walked in, she handed him a bottle of milk with a confounded half-smile. He was ready to fall over by this point, trying to think of the name of the psychiatrist his sister was telling him about.
His wife had left the door open, and they both watched the milk man climb back into his buggy and continue down the street. | |
[WP] When she said it was "in the fifties outside", she meant the nineteen-fifties. | "It's in the 50's outside, I'd be careful if I were you," my girlfriend of six years said.
"Why? That's a perfect temperature, and not very common here in Egypt. I'll just wear a light jacket."
On my way out the door, she grabbed my arm. "I was being a douche, it's actually the 1950's. Somehow we went back in time. I don't want you to be surprised. You have some retro get-up in the garage! Keep the jacket on, though, it's chilly."
"Oh. Well, thanks for telling me, love. At least things won't be that horribly different. I can always trust you to tell me the truth!"
I kissed her and walked out the door, where I saw massive pyramids of stone being built, everyone was half-clothed to prevent baking in the sun and slave masters were cracking whips. I turned back to my house and saw my girlfriend in the window, pointing and laughing at the guy dressed like it was 50 degrees in 1950 AD when it was really more like 95 degrees in 1950 BC. *You little douche nugget.*
Then I was beaten and turned into a slave, building the pyramids I once gazed at with wonder and awe.
-----------------------------------------------
*if you're as bored as I am, check out /r/resonatingfury where I'll try not to enslave you to build pyramids* | "All right, fellas. I'm out of here-- tons of shit to do in the morning"
"I hear ya, pal"
"Yeah, take care John"
John gave a nod as he threw on his coat and began the short walk back to his home. As always, on Friday's he got together with his best friends down the street to throw back a couple beers and talk crap.
He was a little tipsy, though he had the tolerance of a man who had been been training every weekend for 30 years. He stumbled over the front porch step and made his way into the street.
The silence of the neighborhood was penetrated only by his footsteps and the soft rattle of dead leaves sliding across the asphalt. John smiled to himself; nothing more peaceful than a night in fall.
Almost instantly after the thought crossed his mind, the feeling of peace was gone. As he squinted just ahead on the corner leading to his home, he saw a man standing in a long brown coat. He paused for a moment and rubbed his blurry eyes.
He checked his watch. 12:30 AM. How odd.
Mostly shocked, but unafraid, he continued his midnight saunter. He shuffled onto the sidewalk to not draw undue attention to himself.
The man paid no attention to him as he passed-- that is, until he passed.
"John."
On hearing his name, he froze. The little bit of Bud Light that had been floating around in his brain was suddenly nowhere to be found. He turned to look at the man, who had his arm extended holding some kind of pink flask.
"A gift".
Only the man's mouth was visible, smiling serenely. John reached for the flask with a couple seconds of consideration. He would probably just throw it away as soon as he got home. However, as soon as he touched it the man vanished and his world faded.
He awoke in his own bed with a grunt and... no alarm. Saturday.
As he walked to the coffee pot, he began to recall the events of last night. It must have been the beer, right?
As he entered the kitchen, his wife at the table beamed at him.
"Morning honey!"
He grumbled happily, but was locked onto the nearly empty coffee pot.
"Oh, that coffee's not fresh. Let me start you a new pot."
Before his eyes, the coffee pot filled. He stopped.
What the hell was going on?
"Oh. You made more?" She said as she approached the pot. "Great! I'll pour you a cup."
John fell into his chair.
She knew he was useless for conversation until he had some coffee, so she gave him a couple sips and then...
"Your mother called, you should give her a call back before she starts calling me. What do we need at the grocery store? Do you want to go for a walk later? It's a lovely day, I went to get the mail and it feels like its in the fifties outside."
He loved her Saturday morning vigor. The familiarity of his routine made him feel less crazy.
*Knock knock knock*
"I'll get it." she said happily and rushed to the door.
That's when he noticed it. The flask, sitting on the counter. A quarter of the pink liquid was gone, and the ornate glass cap was sitting neatly next to it.
"Hooooooney!" he heard from the other room.
As he walked in, she handed him a bottle of milk with a confounded half-smile. He was ready to fall over by this point, trying to think of the name of the psychiatrist his sister was telling him about.
His wife had left the door open, and they both watched the milk man climb back into his buggy and continue down the street. | |
[WP] When she said it was "in the fifties outside", she meant the nineteen-fifties. | . . . and Mom seemed a little stunned when she said it. She sat down with a blank look on her face, having just come back from retrieving the morning paper.
"Mom, what's wrong?" I asked as she sat down. I worked at a school; this was Spring Break. I regularly traveled three hours to my hometown to be with her ever since Dad died. Seeing as how I was in my mid-thirties, and not married yet, just up and driving down to visit her was easy. During the mornings, the ritual was the same: She gets up before me, cooks breakfast, and I wake up to the smell of her usual bacon-and-eggs frying away.
Only today, something was off. **Waaaaaay** off.
She blankly handed me the paper. "I just saw Mister Agler watering his lawn."
"Mom, that's impossible. Mister Agler's been dead for five years."
"I know," She said with a hint of fear. "But it was him; I swear it." She paused. "Also, son, look at the paper."
"At what?"
"The headline."
I opened the paper. "EXPLORER 4 ROCKET LAUNCHED; U.S. SPACE PROGRAM AHEAD OF SOVIETS."
"Soviets?" I asked her, puzzled. "We don't call the Russians that anymore."
She gave me that same frightened look. "Look at the date." She pointed at the paper.
July 27, 1958.
". . . Is this a joke paper, or something? Maybe a collectible retro item?"
"No, I don't think so," she replied. "Let me take you outside; I want to show you something."
Mom got up on unsteady legs, and took me out of the front door of her two-story house, into the bright July morning of my hometown.
. . .
My hometown was Mom's hometown. She grew up a few houses away from the one we occupied now, and when she and Dad met --and eventually married-- she insisted upon moving back here. It was a good neighborhood, with almost no crime, and friendly people who mostly kept to themselves. Pretty ideal in every way. Mom had an idyllic childhood here, as did I-- straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting.
White picket fences, well-maintained front yards, etc. . . . Nothing out-of-place in what would be considered a stereotypical, "All-American town."
So, for the first few seconds we she led me outside, everything seemed normal to me: It was a sunny July morning, birds chirping, a man water his lawn by hand, and a girl jumping rope in her front yard in a small poodle skirt--
Wait a minute. Most little girls today, I find usually on cell phones, or holding tablets. Moreover, they did not wear poodle skirts. Also, people didn't water their lawns by hand anymore; most sprinkler systems were automated.
"Watch this," Mom told me, and waved at the man watering his lawn. "Mister Agler! How are you?" She yelled.
"Fine, thank you! And you?" The man said with a thick German accent. He looked a little puzzled, as though he didn't recognize my mother.
I was stunned. That was Mister Agler, only a younger version of him. It was years later before I discovered he fled Germany when the Nazis came to power, and set up a little house here.
"Fine thanks!" Mom waved back, and turned to me. "See? Also, look at the cars." She pointed at the few vehicles parked in the neighborhood.
It took me a few seconds before I realized what I saw. I was no expert on automobiles, but all of them seemed straight out of the 1940's and 50's; they all had the curves and fins of cars from that era. Mister Agler's prized 1957 Chevy was always where it was, parked in his driveway-- only now, it looked even more cherry than it did when he paid me a few bucks to wash it, as a kid.
An old car with large fins on the back turned the corner, and cruised right past. I looked inside at the driver as he went by: Fedora, horn-rimmed glasses, and Elvis Presley's "Hound Dog" coming from the car's AM radio.
"What's going on?" I asked.
"I don't know, honey. And what's more, this will freak you out the most," Mom said as she pointed at the little girl. "See her?"
"Yeah," I replied. The little girl was still jumping rope, reciting a rhyme with each jump.
"Hello, Ginny!" Mom waved at the girl.
The little girl stopped jumping her rope, waved, and went back to it.
I was shocked, and started to feel numb. "Mom, your name is Virginia."
"Uh huh," she said. "And my nickname was Ginny."
"And that was your house as a kid . . ." She would happily point it out to me as a child whenever we passed it.
Mom turned to me. "Honey, I'm pretty sure that little girl is *me*."
| "All right, fellas. I'm out of here-- tons of shit to do in the morning"
"I hear ya, pal"
"Yeah, take care John"
John gave a nod as he threw on his coat and began the short walk back to his home. As always, on Friday's he got together with his best friends down the street to throw back a couple beers and talk crap.
He was a little tipsy, though he had the tolerance of a man who had been been training every weekend for 30 years. He stumbled over the front porch step and made his way into the street.
The silence of the neighborhood was penetrated only by his footsteps and the soft rattle of dead leaves sliding across the asphalt. John smiled to himself; nothing more peaceful than a night in fall.
Almost instantly after the thought crossed his mind, the feeling of peace was gone. As he squinted just ahead on the corner leading to his home, he saw a man standing in a long brown coat. He paused for a moment and rubbed his blurry eyes.
He checked his watch. 12:30 AM. How odd.
Mostly shocked, but unafraid, he continued his midnight saunter. He shuffled onto the sidewalk to not draw undue attention to himself.
The man paid no attention to him as he passed-- that is, until he passed.
"John."
On hearing his name, he froze. The little bit of Bud Light that had been floating around in his brain was suddenly nowhere to be found. He turned to look at the man, who had his arm extended holding some kind of pink flask.
"A gift".
Only the man's mouth was visible, smiling serenely. John reached for the flask with a couple seconds of consideration. He would probably just throw it away as soon as he got home. However, as soon as he touched it the man vanished and his world faded.
He awoke in his own bed with a grunt and... no alarm. Saturday.
As he walked to the coffee pot, he began to recall the events of last night. It must have been the beer, right?
As he entered the kitchen, his wife at the table beamed at him.
"Morning honey!"
He grumbled happily, but was locked onto the nearly empty coffee pot.
"Oh, that coffee's not fresh. Let me start you a new pot."
Before his eyes, the coffee pot filled. He stopped.
What the hell was going on?
"Oh. You made more?" She said as she approached the pot. "Great! I'll pour you a cup."
John fell into his chair.
She knew he was useless for conversation until he had some coffee, so she gave him a couple sips and then...
"Your mother called, you should give her a call back before she starts calling me. What do we need at the grocery store? Do you want to go for a walk later? It's a lovely day, I went to get the mail and it feels like its in the fifties outside."
He loved her Saturday morning vigor. The familiarity of his routine made him feel less crazy.
*Knock knock knock*
"I'll get it." she said happily and rushed to the door.
That's when he noticed it. The flask, sitting on the counter. A quarter of the pink liquid was gone, and the ornate glass cap was sitting neatly next to it.
"Hooooooney!" he heard from the other room.
As he walked in, she handed him a bottle of milk with a confounded half-smile. He was ready to fall over by this point, trying to think of the name of the psychiatrist his sister was telling him about.
His wife had left the door open, and they both watched the milk man climb back into his buggy and continue down the street. | |
[WP] When she said it was "in the fifties outside", she meant the nineteen-fifties. | Juan thought to himself, "Hm, better wear a light jacket."
When he opened the front door, a blast of 1950 degree Fahrenheit air hit Juan like a ton of bricks. His body immediately went into shock and he fell limp out the door. Every cell in his body burst into flames and reduced his entire life thus far to a small pile of soot.
Juan's last thought was, "That bitch, I see what she did there." | "All right, fellas. I'm out of here-- tons of shit to do in the morning"
"I hear ya, pal"
"Yeah, take care John"
John gave a nod as he threw on his coat and began the short walk back to his home. As always, on Friday's he got together with his best friends down the street to throw back a couple beers and talk crap.
He was a little tipsy, though he had the tolerance of a man who had been been training every weekend for 30 years. He stumbled over the front porch step and made his way into the street.
The silence of the neighborhood was penetrated only by his footsteps and the soft rattle of dead leaves sliding across the asphalt. John smiled to himself; nothing more peaceful than a night in fall.
Almost instantly after the thought crossed his mind, the feeling of peace was gone. As he squinted just ahead on the corner leading to his home, he saw a man standing in a long brown coat. He paused for a moment and rubbed his blurry eyes.
He checked his watch. 12:30 AM. How odd.
Mostly shocked, but unafraid, he continued his midnight saunter. He shuffled onto the sidewalk to not draw undue attention to himself.
The man paid no attention to him as he passed-- that is, until he passed.
"John."
On hearing his name, he froze. The little bit of Bud Light that had been floating around in his brain was suddenly nowhere to be found. He turned to look at the man, who had his arm extended holding some kind of pink flask.
"A gift".
Only the man's mouth was visible, smiling serenely. John reached for the flask with a couple seconds of consideration. He would probably just throw it away as soon as he got home. However, as soon as he touched it the man vanished and his world faded.
He awoke in his own bed with a grunt and... no alarm. Saturday.
As he walked to the coffee pot, he began to recall the events of last night. It must have been the beer, right?
As he entered the kitchen, his wife at the table beamed at him.
"Morning honey!"
He grumbled happily, but was locked onto the nearly empty coffee pot.
"Oh, that coffee's not fresh. Let me start you a new pot."
Before his eyes, the coffee pot filled. He stopped.
What the hell was going on?
"Oh. You made more?" She said as she approached the pot. "Great! I'll pour you a cup."
John fell into his chair.
She knew he was useless for conversation until he had some coffee, so she gave him a couple sips and then...
"Your mother called, you should give her a call back before she starts calling me. What do we need at the grocery store? Do you want to go for a walk later? It's a lovely day, I went to get the mail and it feels like its in the fifties outside."
He loved her Saturday morning vigor. The familiarity of his routine made him feel less crazy.
*Knock knock knock*
"I'll get it." she said happily and rushed to the door.
That's when he noticed it. The flask, sitting on the counter. A quarter of the pink liquid was gone, and the ornate glass cap was sitting neatly next to it.
"Hooooooney!" he heard from the other room.
As he walked in, she handed him a bottle of milk with a confounded half-smile. He was ready to fall over by this point, trying to think of the name of the psychiatrist his sister was telling him about.
His wife had left the door open, and they both watched the milk man climb back into his buggy and continue down the street. | |
[WP] When she said it was "in the fifties outside", she meant the nineteen-fifties. | "It's in the 50's outside, I'd be careful if I were you," my girlfriend of six years said.
"Why? That's a perfect temperature, and not very common here in Egypt. I'll just wear a light jacket."
On my way out the door, she grabbed my arm. "I was being a douche, it's actually the 1950's. Somehow we went back in time. I don't want you to be surprised. You have some retro get-up in the garage! Keep the jacket on, though, it's chilly."
"Oh. Well, thanks for telling me, love. At least things won't be that horribly different. I can always trust you to tell me the truth!"
I kissed her and walked out the door, where I saw massive pyramids of stone being built, everyone was half-clothed to prevent baking in the sun and slave masters were cracking whips. I turned back to my house and saw my girlfriend in the window, pointing and laughing at the guy dressed like it was 50 degrees in 1950 AD when it was really more like 95 degrees in 1950 BC. *You little douche nugget.*
Then I was beaten and turned into a slave, building the pyramids I once gazed at with wonder and awe.
-----------------------------------------------
*if you're as bored as I am, check out /r/resonatingfury where I'll try not to enslave you to build pyramids* | _______________________________________________________________
***Log#: 3467***
***Date: 12***
***Month: 03***
***Year: 1250685950 After Exodus; 5070131950 A.D***
***Surface Temperature:***
***...***
_________________________________________________________
hmmm... temperature...
"Hey Sarah, whats the Temperature outside today?"
"My phone says its in the 50s"
"k, thanks"
_____________________________________________________________
***Surface Temperture: 1950 °C***
***Population: 34 Billion***
***Priority:***
***...***
__________________________________________________________
hmmm... priority...priority...
Damn, I always hated writing these logs. I guess its part of the job, but its basically the same shit everyday.
Its been a billion years since humanity declared Earth uninhabitable and left, but for some stupid reason my ancestors decided to stay.
fucking ancestors...
Ever since the Sun expanded to a Super giant, those idiots moved underground.
I mean, did they really expect humanity to survive in a rock where the average fucking surface temperature is 1950 °C??
At least we have the technology to sustain our energy and consumption needs, but overpopulation is starting to become a real problem now...
hmm enough bitching to myself, I'd better finish this log...
priority... Gee i dunno, get the fuck off this rock?
_____________________________________________________________
***Priority: find plans from Archives***
| |
[WP] When she said it was "in the fifties outside", she meant the nineteen-fifties. | . . . and Mom seemed a little stunned when she said it. She sat down with a blank look on her face, having just come back from retrieving the morning paper.
"Mom, what's wrong?" I asked as she sat down. I worked at a school; this was Spring Break. I regularly traveled three hours to my hometown to be with her ever since Dad died. Seeing as how I was in my mid-thirties, and not married yet, just up and driving down to visit her was easy. During the mornings, the ritual was the same: She gets up before me, cooks breakfast, and I wake up to the smell of her usual bacon-and-eggs frying away.
Only today, something was off. **Waaaaaay** off.
She blankly handed me the paper. "I just saw Mister Agler watering his lawn."
"Mom, that's impossible. Mister Agler's been dead for five years."
"I know," She said with a hint of fear. "But it was him; I swear it." She paused. "Also, son, look at the paper."
"At what?"
"The headline."
I opened the paper. "EXPLORER 4 ROCKET LAUNCHED; U.S. SPACE PROGRAM AHEAD OF SOVIETS."
"Soviets?" I asked her, puzzled. "We don't call the Russians that anymore."
She gave me that same frightened look. "Look at the date." She pointed at the paper.
July 27, 1958.
". . . Is this a joke paper, or something? Maybe a collectible retro item?"
"No, I don't think so," she replied. "Let me take you outside; I want to show you something."
Mom got up on unsteady legs, and took me out of the front door of her two-story house, into the bright July morning of my hometown.
. . .
My hometown was Mom's hometown. She grew up a few houses away from the one we occupied now, and when she and Dad met --and eventually married-- she insisted upon moving back here. It was a good neighborhood, with almost no crime, and friendly people who mostly kept to themselves. Pretty ideal in every way. Mom had an idyllic childhood here, as did I-- straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting.
White picket fences, well-maintained front yards, etc. . . . Nothing out-of-place in what would be considered a stereotypical, "All-American town."
So, for the first few seconds we she led me outside, everything seemed normal to me: It was a sunny July morning, birds chirping, a man water his lawn by hand, and a girl jumping rope in her front yard in a small poodle skirt--
Wait a minute. Most little girls today, I find usually on cell phones, or holding tablets. Moreover, they did not wear poodle skirts. Also, people didn't water their lawns by hand anymore; most sprinkler systems were automated.
"Watch this," Mom told me, and waved at the man watering his lawn. "Mister Agler! How are you?" She yelled.
"Fine, thank you! And you?" The man said with a thick German accent. He looked a little puzzled, as though he didn't recognize my mother.
I was stunned. That was Mister Agler, only a younger version of him. It was years later before I discovered he fled Germany when the Nazis came to power, and set up a little house here.
"Fine thanks!" Mom waved back, and turned to me. "See? Also, look at the cars." She pointed at the few vehicles parked in the neighborhood.
It took me a few seconds before I realized what I saw. I was no expert on automobiles, but all of them seemed straight out of the 1940's and 50's; they all had the curves and fins of cars from that era. Mister Agler's prized 1957 Chevy was always where it was, parked in his driveway-- only now, it looked even more cherry than it did when he paid me a few bucks to wash it, as a kid.
An old car with large fins on the back turned the corner, and cruised right past. I looked inside at the driver as he went by: Fedora, horn-rimmed glasses, and Elvis Presley's "Hound Dog" coming from the car's AM radio.
"What's going on?" I asked.
"I don't know, honey. And what's more, this will freak you out the most," Mom said as she pointed at the little girl. "See her?"
"Yeah," I replied. The little girl was still jumping rope, reciting a rhyme with each jump.
"Hello, Ginny!" Mom waved at the girl.
The little girl stopped jumping her rope, waved, and went back to it.
I was shocked, and started to feel numb. "Mom, your name is Virginia."
"Uh huh," she said. "And my nickname was Ginny."
"And that was your house as a kid . . ." She would happily point it out to me as a child whenever we passed it.
Mom turned to me. "Honey, I'm pretty sure that little girl is *me*."
| _______________________________________________________________
***Log#: 3467***
***Date: 12***
***Month: 03***
***Year: 1250685950 After Exodus; 5070131950 A.D***
***Surface Temperature:***
***...***
_________________________________________________________
hmmm... temperature...
"Hey Sarah, whats the Temperature outside today?"
"My phone says its in the 50s"
"k, thanks"
_____________________________________________________________
***Surface Temperture: 1950 °C***
***Population: 34 Billion***
***Priority:***
***...***
__________________________________________________________
hmmm... priority...priority...
Damn, I always hated writing these logs. I guess its part of the job, but its basically the same shit everyday.
Its been a billion years since humanity declared Earth uninhabitable and left, but for some stupid reason my ancestors decided to stay.
fucking ancestors...
Ever since the Sun expanded to a Super giant, those idiots moved underground.
I mean, did they really expect humanity to survive in a rock where the average fucking surface temperature is 1950 °C??
At least we have the technology to sustain our energy and consumption needs, but overpopulation is starting to become a real problem now...
hmm enough bitching to myself, I'd better finish this log...
priority... Gee i dunno, get the fuck off this rock?
_____________________________________________________________
***Priority: find plans from Archives***
| |
[WP] When she said it was "in the fifties outside", she meant the nineteen-fifties. | . . . and Mom seemed a little stunned when she said it. She sat down with a blank look on her face, having just come back from retrieving the morning paper.
"Mom, what's wrong?" I asked as she sat down. I worked at a school; this was Spring Break. I regularly traveled three hours to my hometown to be with her ever since Dad died. Seeing as how I was in my mid-thirties, and not married yet, just up and driving down to visit her was easy. During the mornings, the ritual was the same: She gets up before me, cooks breakfast, and I wake up to the smell of her usual bacon-and-eggs frying away.
Only today, something was off. **Waaaaaay** off.
She blankly handed me the paper. "I just saw Mister Agler watering his lawn."
"Mom, that's impossible. Mister Agler's been dead for five years."
"I know," She said with a hint of fear. "But it was him; I swear it." She paused. "Also, son, look at the paper."
"At what?"
"The headline."
I opened the paper. "EXPLORER 4 ROCKET LAUNCHED; U.S. SPACE PROGRAM AHEAD OF SOVIETS."
"Soviets?" I asked her, puzzled. "We don't call the Russians that anymore."
She gave me that same frightened look. "Look at the date." She pointed at the paper.
July 27, 1958.
". . . Is this a joke paper, or something? Maybe a collectible retro item?"
"No, I don't think so," she replied. "Let me take you outside; I want to show you something."
Mom got up on unsteady legs, and took me out of the front door of her two-story house, into the bright July morning of my hometown.
. . .
My hometown was Mom's hometown. She grew up a few houses away from the one we occupied now, and when she and Dad met --and eventually married-- she insisted upon moving back here. It was a good neighborhood, with almost no crime, and friendly people who mostly kept to themselves. Pretty ideal in every way. Mom had an idyllic childhood here, as did I-- straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting.
White picket fences, well-maintained front yards, etc. . . . Nothing out-of-place in what would be considered a stereotypical, "All-American town."
So, for the first few seconds we she led me outside, everything seemed normal to me: It was a sunny July morning, birds chirping, a man water his lawn by hand, and a girl jumping rope in her front yard in a small poodle skirt--
Wait a minute. Most little girls today, I find usually on cell phones, or holding tablets. Moreover, they did not wear poodle skirts. Also, people didn't water their lawns by hand anymore; most sprinkler systems were automated.
"Watch this," Mom told me, and waved at the man watering his lawn. "Mister Agler! How are you?" She yelled.
"Fine, thank you! And you?" The man said with a thick German accent. He looked a little puzzled, as though he didn't recognize my mother.
I was stunned. That was Mister Agler, only a younger version of him. It was years later before I discovered he fled Germany when the Nazis came to power, and set up a little house here.
"Fine thanks!" Mom waved back, and turned to me. "See? Also, look at the cars." She pointed at the few vehicles parked in the neighborhood.
It took me a few seconds before I realized what I saw. I was no expert on automobiles, but all of them seemed straight out of the 1940's and 50's; they all had the curves and fins of cars from that era. Mister Agler's prized 1957 Chevy was always where it was, parked in his driveway-- only now, it looked even more cherry than it did when he paid me a few bucks to wash it, as a kid.
An old car with large fins on the back turned the corner, and cruised right past. I looked inside at the driver as he went by: Fedora, horn-rimmed glasses, and Elvis Presley's "Hound Dog" coming from the car's AM radio.
"What's going on?" I asked.
"I don't know, honey. And what's more, this will freak you out the most," Mom said as she pointed at the little girl. "See her?"
"Yeah," I replied. The little girl was still jumping rope, reciting a rhyme with each jump.
"Hello, Ginny!" Mom waved at the girl.
The little girl stopped jumping her rope, waved, and went back to it.
I was shocked, and started to feel numb. "Mom, your name is Virginia."
"Uh huh," she said. "And my nickname was Ginny."
"And that was your house as a kid . . ." She would happily point it out to me as a child whenever we passed it.
Mom turned to me. "Honey, I'm pretty sure that little girl is *me*."
| "It's in the 50's outside, I'd be careful if I were you," my girlfriend of six years said.
"Why? That's a perfect temperature, and not very common here in Egypt. I'll just wear a light jacket."
On my way out the door, she grabbed my arm. "I was being a douche, it's actually the 1950's. Somehow we went back in time. I don't want you to be surprised. You have some retro get-up in the garage! Keep the jacket on, though, it's chilly."
"Oh. Well, thanks for telling me, love. At least things won't be that horribly different. I can always trust you to tell me the truth!"
I kissed her and walked out the door, where I saw massive pyramids of stone being built, everyone was half-clothed to prevent baking in the sun and slave masters were cracking whips. I turned back to my house and saw my girlfriend in the window, pointing and laughing at the guy dressed like it was 50 degrees in 1950 AD when it was really more like 95 degrees in 1950 BC. *You little douche nugget.*
Then I was beaten and turned into a slave, building the pyramids I once gazed at with wonder and awe.
-----------------------------------------------
*if you're as bored as I am, check out /r/resonatingfury where I'll try not to enslave you to build pyramids* | |
[WP] When she said it was "in the fifties outside", she meant the nineteen-fifties. | Juan thought to himself, "Hm, better wear a light jacket."
When he opened the front door, a blast of 1950 degree Fahrenheit air hit Juan like a ton of bricks. His body immediately went into shock and he fell limp out the door. Every cell in his body burst into flames and reduced his entire life thus far to a small pile of soot.
Juan's last thought was, "That bitch, I see what she did there." | It seemed a little bit chilly out that morning, and I wondered if I'd heard wrong- the weather had mentioned it being in the fifties already.
First I thought there must be a classic car convention going on. A Plymouth, a Chevy, a 49 Ford, and oh, that Thunderbird- what I'd give for that one. Then I looked around a bit more, and there was no Honda, no Smart Cars, no Toyotas in sight. It was literally every car in town. There was a Buick about the size of a cruise ship where my neighbor normally parked his Prius.
Then I noticed the kids. They were all on old bicycles or just walking- no hover boards. The girls had skirts on and those black and white saddle shoes. One kid who looked a hell of a lot like my neighbor's boy was actually wearing a tie. That seemed strange indeed, since that little punk usually ran around in a hoodie and shorts. Come to think of it, I'd never before seen him without earbuds in, looking sullen. But he actually spoke to me this time- said good morning and handed me the paper.
I went back inside and looked at Mary again, she had curlers in her hair and bright red lipstick on. "What's the occasion?" I asked. Her answer stunned me.
"It's my husband's birthday today, Jane, so I want to look nice when he gets home from work.
Her husband. My girlfriend of six years, the woman who had bought this house with me, and was about as attracted to men as I was up until this morning was telling me she had a husband. I could only look at her. There were no words coming into my head at that moment.
She was wearing some amorphous blob of pink with pockets on it and flitting about the house with a feather duster. I got a glimpse of the back of her legs, and saw that her tattoos were not there. What the ever-loving-fuck was going on?
I stood up to go after her and ask for an explanation, when I caught a glimpse of my own reflection in the big gilded mirror above the sofa. The fact that we now had a big gilded mirror and a sofa didn't even register, because what looked back at me from the mirror was almost unrecognizable.
Horn rims. Fucking silver, flowery scrolled, horn rim glasses. Blond hair, in curls. And that bright red lipstick. Jesus. I had not worn make up since that one Halloween in third grade, and just exactly what I was wearing- a gray cardigan with little faux pearl buttons, a white shirt with a huge fucking bow at the collar, and a pencil skirt. I looked down, and at least I had on flats.
"What the hell is happening, Mary? Why is everyone dressed like it's 1955 and I don't remember anything leading up to it?"
"Language, Jane!" Mary actually sounded shocked. The woman who taught me new ways to swear every day for the last six years was genuinely shocked that I'd said hell.
"I don't know what you're so upset about, but you'd better run along before you're late for work," she smiled and led me to the door.
Work. How was I supposed to repair motorcycles in this get up? What would the boys say when they saw this shit?
I walked the half a mile to the shop, and stood there, mouth agape. The shop was still there, but it sure did look different. There were curtains and a display case filled with pastries and pies. I remember the old man saying it had been a bakery when he was a kid. Just what was going on? And why? How?
Collins stuck his fat head out the door and bellowed at me, "You're late, again! Get in here and start on that wedding cake pronto!"
Collins. He was the old man, only now, he was young. But, wait, what? No, that was his father. Because here came the Collins I knew- only he was a little kid.
"I bet you're wondering what kind of dream this is," He smirked- an expression unmistakable. Yes, that was most definitely the Collins I knew.
A faint sound grew louder and louder, until I realized it was the song "Tequila" by the Champs.
"That's what happens when you eat the worm!" Collins giggled and faded away, as I reached over to the nightstand and turned off the clock radio alarm.
| |
[WP] Life and Death are siblings. They may not see eye to eye on everything but they've always been close. Life decided to take a spontaneous vacation and Death has to do Life's job while convincing them to get back to work. | "You know I *hate* children... especially fat kids"
A sigh could be heard on the line, Death clutching at the mobile as he stared down at an overweight child currently struggling for air, crumbs strewn about him as he flailed on the floor.
"Oh, come on now~. You know I deserve this break. Look who got the human population to 7 billion and won that lovely bet. And you have your end of the bargain to uphold. Two weeks in my shoes" the sound of waves and wind could be heard in the background, threatening to drown out Life's voice as she spoke.
"You don't think there's a slight conflict of interest here? Seriously, a fat kid's choking... on a pretzel. Bush style" Death poked at the kid with his shoe as he continued to writhe on the floor, face beginning to turn blue.
"Then just do what I do~, give him a pat on the back and then forget he ever existed. Quite simple really, do you honestly think I keep track of 7 billion people?" She said right before noisily sipping on her cocktail, making sure the phone was close so her favourite sibling could hear.
"I give this kid a pat, and he won't be existing any more, period."
"Then figure something out! That's what you were always good at that. All those plagues, wars, *accidents*. Try turning that creative energy into something positive for once." Death could almost hear the smug grin on her face, dripping from her tone of voice.
"Yeah, we'll see..." Death finally hung up, still standing in front of this kid on his final moments. Not that the kid could see him, yet.
His cold, soulless eyes burned with an eternal blue flame that shimmered with an uncaring gaze, focused down on this one boy as he weighed his thoughts and options. He wanted to let this kid die. Not that he had anything against him really. It was just his job... before he lost his bet. And with his sister out of the picture for two weeks, he already had a few ideas on easily getting those 7 billion humans whittled down quite quickly before she could do something about it. It was like she said, he was good at that.
But a bet was a bet, and here he was, contemplating on whether he should save this one boy, who's chubby face was swelling even more in that final struggle. Putting on a glove over his skeletal hand, the moment there was no exposed bone he buried the fist into the boy's stomach. The impact alone prompted what he thought was an amusing squawk from the fat kid as air was forced out of his lungs. And with it came the lethal fragment of pretzel, the snack that almost ended this one child's life.
Getting up and walking away from the now gasping kid, Death sighed as he felt a sense of satisfaction. Mostly from punching a dying kid in the stomach, saving his life was inconsequential to that. Maybe there was a way to get past these two weeks after all, he thought. And whilst he was at it, he could think of something else to busy his sister with once she gets back.
Oh yes, she's going to regret taking that holiday when she gets back. Maybe a new bet should do the trick. | *"Hey, so how long are you gonna be gone for?"*
We've been working together literally - LITERALLY - forever and Life still couldn't think to give me a heads up when it went to Tijuana for a holiday. I'm on the phone to it trying to figure out how the hell forceps work for **not** killing people.
*"What do you mean you don't know? Are you drunk?"*
I deliver the baby safely into the hands of the nurse and give the kiss of life to it. It's something I can do when people's time hasn't come yet, or if they fight real hard to hold on. But I'm not used to it, and you have to inhale before the kiss, and it's making me light headed.
*"Listen I can't do this much longer..."* I move on to the next room in the maternity ward. As I leave, I feel dizzy and knock the baby out of the nurse's hands. Fuck. It survives because I step over it. See you in 76 years little guy!
*"Yeah, I know we take turns, but I always let you know before I... no, no, it's not the same thing as when I leave! No one complains when I leave!"*
Life knows how loved it is, but thinks people appreciate me just as much. Bless Life, the precious thing. It has no damn idea.
*"Look, I can't keep going around to all these maternity wards and give newborns the kiss of life! What do you mean why?! I'm dizzy-"* I trip up in the corridor and rip an IV chord out of a patient walking past, making him tumble and crack his skull on a radiator. He was due next week. Ho hum.
*"Yes, I'm dizzy, and I just... vaginas make me uncomfortable ok? I never deal with vaginas and now there's like one every minute and damn it the babies take forever to come out and like when do I go in for the kiss of life and-"*
I enter the next room in the corridor and look at the clinical report. Triplets. Jesus.
*"Yeah, ok, I'm hanging up now! I have triplets to deal with here! Look I don't care how good the tequila is! Just don't go all 1950's on me again and get back here when you sober up!"*
| |
[WP] Just write a fucking normal story, about a normal situation, that could actually happen. Being interesting is optional | The peaceful morning silence is shattered by the shriek of an alarm. He reaches out a probing arm in vain. His hopes of silencing it before the veil of slumber is irrevocably shattered come to naught. The alarm clock’s not the only thing shrieking now. It feels like every nerve ending in his body is screaming its own cacophony as he kicks off the blankets and meets the chill air of the new day.
 
Shuffling to the bathroom he hovers between the land of dreams and the waking world. Nothing could be better than to slip back into the warm refuge of his duvet, but he knows that no such retreat can be permitted. Already his manager had seen him arrive late not once, but twice this week. A third time and the old man’s patience might finally break.
 
With a supreme effort of will he drags himself to the kitchen table. His feet are heavy and his head heavier still. Another day at a job he hates, whittling away his sanity only to line the old man’s pockets. He watches tendrils of wispy smoke rise from the charred piece of bread he charitably calls toast. It’s more like charcoal in his mouth. The urge to give up on the day and return to bed is back stronger than ever.
 
He gets dressed with all the enthusiasm of a man preparing for his own execution. With a final longing glance back at the crumpled cocoon of sheets he turns his eyes to the door. The weather outside is as grey as he feels. Each step towards the bus stop is an exercise in masochism. Scanning down the timetable his heart sinks further – there’s no chance he’ll make it in on time now. Why must the buses run so infrequently just because it’s the weekend? He pauses a moment and turns the words over in his mind.
 
…because…it’s…the…weekend…
 
For the first time since the screeching alarm he starts to feel truly awake. It’s the weekend, he repeats to himself. Yesterday was Friday, and that means he has today off. He double checks his watch to make sure it actually is Saturday. He checks a third time to make sure his exhausted mind isn't playing yet another trick on him. It takes a moment for the truth to sink in. When it finally does, not even his lost sleep in can hold back the grin slowly spreading across his face.
| Betty didn't think she could reach the grate today. It was getting harder with the gout. But Andy was coming and she pushed through the pain, bent down on one knee, and retrieved the envelope. Inside were twelve crisp twenty dollar bills. She pulled out four, folded the envelope closed and placed it back in its hiding spot.
She used the bed to push herself back to her feet and walked over to her side table where she kept her clutch. She never carried it out - hadn't for thirty years. It was just for Andy.
She walked into the living room and placed it on the side table. She looked at it sitting there, decided it was too neat, and rolled it over onto its other side. She sat down in her chair and watched the television.
The knock on the door woke her up. At least it seemed to, she had a hard time telling when she napped these days. She popped up and got to the door in twenty-two steps.
Andy came in and hugged her. "Hi Nana." She could feel the ribs on his back and when he kissed her cheek she felt a week of stubble on her face.
"Oh Andy!" She swept her hand into the apartment. "Come in. I'll get you some tea."
"Thanks Nana," Andy said as he walked to flop onto the couch.
She busied herself in the kitchen with filling and plugging in the electric kettle. She took her time sifting through her special teas before pulling out two bags of a nice chamomile. She held them by their strings as she waited for the water to heat and for Andy to finish. When the water was hot, she filled two teacups and two saucers, the ones Jim had bought her, and picked them up.
When she reentered the living room, she saw Andy standing up, zipping up his hooded sweatshirt. He had his big phone in his hand. "I'm so sorry, Nana. I got a call from work. They need me to come in."
"Now? On a Sunday?"
"Yeah. There's an emergency. I got to go."
"Emergency? At the grocery store?"
"Yeah."
"Can't you stay for a minute?" she pleaded. "Drink some of your tea?"
"Can't do it. Don't want to get fired." Andy moved in to hug her but the teacups were in the way so he just patted her on the arm and turned away. "Bye Nana," he said over his shoulder as he walked away.
"It was so nice to see you!" she called after him just before the door closed.
She stood there holding her cups and bent to put them down on the coffee table. She spilled a bit on her left thumb on the way down. She put it in her mouth and flopped back onto the couch.
The show was on and she tried to watch it as the sting subsided but it was a rerun and she knew the puzzle. She grabbed the clutch and went back to the bedroom. She dropped it beside the grate, bent down again and retrieved the envelope. She picked up the clutch, popped it open and looked inside.
It was empty. She reached in and felt around, though it was tiny and there was no place for a bill to hide. It had never been *empty* before.
She put the envelope back and replaced the grate. She tried to push herself up again but then didn't bother and slumped against the wall, looking at nothing in particular.
| |
[WP] Just write a fucking normal story, about a normal situation, that could actually happen. Being interesting is optional |     I sat on my sofa chair watching TV. Animal Planet was on and I watched a cheetah chase down a gazelle. Static flickered across the screen, so I got up and fiddled with the antennae until the picture was restored.
    *It's 2016 and I still have antennae on my TV.* I thought to myself. *Y’know what? I’m gonna go get a better TV!* I stood up, grabbed my wallet and my car keys, then walked out the front door after turning off my TV. As I stepped out on the front lawn, I realized it was dark out. *Oh, all the stores are probably closed right now.* I walked back inside, closed the door behind me, sat back down on my sofa chair and turned the TV back on. After a couple more hours, I crawled into bed and set an alarm for 10 AM the next day.
    My alarm blared at 10 AM and I shut it off. I sat up in bed and yawned drearily. I got up and gathered up all my things again to go to Best Buy. There was a bit of traffic on the highway to get there, but otherwise, it was uneventful.
    I drove around the parking lot looking for a space, surprised at how many people were out this early. I found a space near the back and had to walk all the way up to the entrance. There was electronics galore. TV’s, game stations, computers, DvDs, movies, speakers, and whole entertainment systems. I walked up to one of the dazzling displays, glanced at the price, and quickly turned away. Instead, I made my way to the TV section. I found a nice 30 inch flat screen for $150.
    I picked it up and brought it straight to the register. The cashier took out a hand-held scanning device and scanned it once, twice, thrice, but it didn’t go through. “Damn thing!” she said, shaking the device in her hand. “Sorry, been on the fritz for a while now.” She looked at the barcode and typed it in manually. The price came up as **$475.00**.
    “Uh, that’s not right...” I said, looking at the screen. She looked at it too. Where it says the product name it read “12” Bluetooth Speaker.”
    “Oh, must’ve entered the barcode wrong,” she said. She cleared the item from the list, looked back at the barcode and typed it in again. This time it came up as **$150.00**. “That the right price?” she asked.
    “Yup, perfect,” I replied.
    “Okay, now that comes with a 6-month and a 12-month warranty, would you like to purchase one of those?”
    I thought about it for a minute. I’ve never actually used one of those things before. The device always lasted at least that long. “Uh, no thank you,” I said.
    “And would you like to purchase professional installation?” she asked.
    “No, I can handle it,” I said confidently.
    “Okay, your total is $166.50”
    I swiped my credit card and signed my name. She handed me a receipt and told me to show it to the employee by the door. I picked up the TV a little awkwardly, it was a lot heavier than I realized it was. I was kinda wishing I had gotten a basket, but I didn’t want to seem like a weakling in front of everyone, so I continued to carry it. I got to the door and handed my receipt to the guy waiting there. He glanced at it, then at what I was holding. He marked on the receipt with a little highlighter.
    “Good morning,” he said in a bland way. I nodded and passed him out the door.
    I was about halfway to my car when my sweaty fingers began to slip, so I quickly stopped and put the TV down to get a better grip on it. At the same time, the guy in the car I stopped behind started backing up without looking behind him, he was looking down at his phone. I banged on the trunk of his car and he slammed on his brakes, then looked at me. He honked his horn, stuck his head out of his open window, and yelled at me to get out of the way.
    “Next time, check your rearview mirror!” I yelled back at him, picking up my boxed TV. I barely made it to my car because my fingers were growing very tired from holding the TV. *God damn I’m out of shape.* I opened the back door to my car and shoved a couple things aside to place the TV in there safely. I closed the door, got in my car, and turned it on.
    This time, traffic was terrible. They started construction so half of the lanes were closed and cars were piled up on the highway. It took over an hour to get home.
    Finally, I pulled up in the driveway of my house. I got out and went to the back of my car to retrieve my TV. It slid a little on the way here and I hoped I hadn’t damaged it. I got it inside as quickly as I could and opened the box. There wasn’t a scratch on it. I sighed in relief. I silently thanked the inventor of styrofoam as I extracted the TV from the plentiful amount there was in the box, tightly hugging the contours of the TV. There was a plastic bag with the remote, two batteries for it, and a manual giving instruction operations for the TV.
    I took out the remote and batteries, then tossed the manual back inside the box along with the rest of the styrofoam. I unplugged my old TV, placed the new flatscreen in its place, and plugged it in. I sat back down in my sofa chair and fit the batteries into the remote, then turned on the TV. Every channel was static. I looked at the buttons on the remote. One of them said, “Scan,” so I assumed that meant it would scan all the channels for me. I pressed it and it flipped rapidly from channel to channel, but all was static.
    I got back up and got the box. I fondled around in the bottom for the manual and took it out. There was a lot to this manual, so I went straight to the table of contents. I found the section labeled “Setup your TV” and flipped to it. There was a lot more steps to this than I thought there was. I skimmed through the instructions and they all seemed pretty basic, until I got to the part where it says, “Plug in your cable to get access to your provider’s channels.”
    *Oh, right. Cable. Have to pay for that. God dammit. So I’ll have to find a provider, and pay to have someone come out here and press a button, then pay a monthly fee to get a buncha shitty channels...* I glanced back to my old TV sitting in the corner. I shrugged, unplugged the flatscreen, and set up my old TV again. I carefully placed the flatscreen TV back into the box, making sure all the styrofoam was in place, returned the remote to its plastic bag, then closed the box.
    I sat down on my sofa chair, turned on my TV, and flipped over to Animal Planet. “Eh,” I said to myself. “I’ll return it tomorrow.” | Betty didn't think she could reach the grate today. It was getting harder with the gout. But Andy was coming and she pushed through the pain, bent down on one knee, and retrieved the envelope. Inside were twelve crisp twenty dollar bills. She pulled out four, folded the envelope closed and placed it back in its hiding spot.
She used the bed to push herself back to her feet and walked over to her side table where she kept her clutch. She never carried it out - hadn't for thirty years. It was just for Andy.
She walked into the living room and placed it on the side table. She looked at it sitting there, decided it was too neat, and rolled it over onto its other side. She sat down in her chair and watched the television.
The knock on the door woke her up. At least it seemed to, she had a hard time telling when she napped these days. She popped up and got to the door in twenty-two steps.
Andy came in and hugged her. "Hi Nana." She could feel the ribs on his back and when he kissed her cheek she felt a week of stubble on her face.
"Oh Andy!" She swept her hand into the apartment. "Come in. I'll get you some tea."
"Thanks Nana," Andy said as he walked to flop onto the couch.
She busied herself in the kitchen with filling and plugging in the electric kettle. She took her time sifting through her special teas before pulling out two bags of a nice chamomile. She held them by their strings as she waited for the water to heat and for Andy to finish. When the water was hot, she filled two teacups and two saucers, the ones Jim had bought her, and picked them up.
When she reentered the living room, she saw Andy standing up, zipping up his hooded sweatshirt. He had his big phone in his hand. "I'm so sorry, Nana. I got a call from work. They need me to come in."
"Now? On a Sunday?"
"Yeah. There's an emergency. I got to go."
"Emergency? At the grocery store?"
"Yeah."
"Can't you stay for a minute?" she pleaded. "Drink some of your tea?"
"Can't do it. Don't want to get fired." Andy moved in to hug her but the teacups were in the way so he just patted her on the arm and turned away. "Bye Nana," he said over his shoulder as he walked away.
"It was so nice to see you!" she called after him just before the door closed.
She stood there holding her cups and bent to put them down on the coffee table. She spilled a bit on her left thumb on the way down. She put it in her mouth and flopped back onto the couch.
The show was on and she tried to watch it as the sting subsided but it was a rerun and she knew the puzzle. She grabbed the clutch and went back to the bedroom. She dropped it beside the grate, bent down again and retrieved the envelope. She picked up the clutch, popped it open and looked inside.
It was empty. She reached in and felt around, though it was tiny and there was no place for a bill to hide. It had never been *empty* before.
She put the envelope back and replaced the grate. She tried to push herself up again but then didn't bother and slumped against the wall, looking at nothing in particular.
| |
[WP] Just write a fucking normal story, about a normal situation, that could actually happen. Being interesting is optional | Norman could not decide what to do today. His boss gave him the day off, which was a very rare occurrence. It had only happened once before in Norman's time with the company, and now he had this Wednesday to do as he pleased. Maybe he could go out to the movies, or try to get that steak recipe right. Or Norman could fill his fridge and pantry, now that he had time to do so. His cat, who was also called Norman, would definitely appreciate some more treats. He could be productive in a meaningful way outside of his normal routine, now that he had time to do so.
When Norman finished planning out his day, it was already 8pm. His chest heaved with a sigh, having realized he spent the day deciding how he would spend it. Norman decided to order pizza and watch a few episodes of CSI before turning in. He had work early the next morning, so he reminded himself to only order one bottle of Pepsi this evening. Two bottles would keep him awake, and would make tomorrow more difficult than it should be.
----------------
*Based on the character Norman of /r/lifeofnorman. More at r/galokot, and thanks for reading!* | Tom was on his lunchbreak. He was just finishing up the last of his homemade hummus and pita bread when he spilt his coffee on the crotch of his pants. "Dang it" he thought, "now it's going to look like i peed myself." He went to the bathroom and tried to dry his pants with the hand dryer and paper towels but the coffee had left a big stain right on his crotch. "Darn it" he thought. For the rest of the day he tried to stay sitting at his desk. If he had to get up and walk across the office for something he would try to hold a folder or piece of paper nonchalantly in front of his crotch. It made him irrationally self-conscious. When he got home he threw the pants away without making any attempt to get the stain out. Just out of spite. | |
[WP] Write a dystopia that turns into a utopia. | The cities were destroyed, for the most part. Or rather...Abandoned.
Dan drove his RV onward, past ruin after ruin. At nights he looked up and stared, wondering if the people on the generation ship were safe. If a single carrier got in, then it was likely to be over.
He took shelter in a cobblestone house as it rained; he felt fortunate to have a safe structure around him. The house was cold, but the fireplace was warm.
Even more fortunately, a cedar chest contained heirloom quilts; a surprising find in the post-human world. The cedar must have protected the material from insects.
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Dan always hated the midwest.
He hated it even more now.
It's always been empty, but now the plains were devoid of crops; the bare dirt, miles and miles, reminding him that he was alone in the world.
He looked back on his past roadtrips and regretted his hatred; the endless fields of corn and wheat, to his present self, must have been paradise.
Not due to the food- he had more food than a worm in a compost pile- but as it would tell him there were people.
At night he chewed on some feral hog he had shot from motorcycle, as he sat by his campfire and stared at the stars.
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Gasoline had started deteriorating quickly; he had to abandon the RV and take up a motorcycle. Easier to find enough gas for that thing.
The wind felt good on his face at least.
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Dan had to remind himself to speak every now and then. In case he ever found anyone.
He used solar panels to charge a CD player and a phone. The music helped.
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Dan had finally reached SpaceX, in Cali.
After seeing the tent cities, and haphazardly dug graves...
He collapsed and cried.
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It was cold and it was raining.
Dan was screaming.
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It was warm now. Dan had gone to one of the harbors along the coast of California.
And there he saw it: a huge billboard with spraypaint all over.
"ALOHA!!! WE MOVED TO HAWAII!"
Dan screamed, but in joy this time.
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Aloha! We haven't had a visitor since...well, since we've been here! Where are you from, and do you carry news from the world?"
"I travel to you from far away; The Adirondacks of the United States."
"Damn."
"Yea."
Dan stood, his small sailboat dragged up onto the beach. The man in front of him looked relatively health, with a long beard and tan skin. His clothes were homemade and the house behind him had solar panels.
Dan by comparison was rather scrawny, his small beard bushy. He smelled bad.
Dan started speaking:
"Well, I haven't seen anyone traveling here. Thanks for spraypainting what to look for coming here."
"Ya, your welcome. Thought the light house would get people onto the right island."
"...Right island?"
The man started walking, beckoning Dan to follow him.
They reached a tidy little town. Solar panels everywhere.
"Right now, everyone's at the beach. I'm the sentry for today. Anyways, this island is for carriers. The other islands are where the regulars live."
"Ah, that makes sense. Do you know how long the disease can last in a carrier?"
"We don't know, and frankly, we don't want to risk it. We use radio to contact the vulnerable villages to prevent killin' em."
"Smart. Name's Dan, by the way."
"I'm Iz. Nice to meet you."
The two individuals stood on the hill, overlooking the beach.
"The worlds actually better than before, I think." The Hawaiian was smiling.
"How so?"
"Well, no more war. Remember how China was threatening everyone over fish? Russia invading Eastern Europe? Terrorists around every corner, America seeking more and more control over everyone..."
Dan started to realize what the man was saying.
"Ya, I guess your right. Small population like this...No one's going to fight. Nothing to fight over, really. Massive amount of land, resources..."
"Yep. We don't even have a chief. We just take turns being sentry or judge."
"Sounds nice."
Dan smiled. Maybe it was better.
The Hawaiian handed Dan a coconut.
| I was in a gaming store on the day the world as we knew it ended in June of 2009. It started with a storm and though it seemed as if it would be a normal summer storm, somewhere inside we knew it wouldn't be. As we stood in the parking lot of the shopping center we watched the dark clouds roll in, faster, and stronger than ever before. If a storm ever had the ability to hate, it was this one, and we could feel it.
First came the rain and the thunder, a 100 year storm they called it. It was massive and lasted for days. After the storm the darkness remained, there was no sun, no stars, and no moon. This lasted many years and much of society crumbled. As there was little to no power, many governments lost control all together as they had no way to communicate or keep tabs over large masses.
Some societies came up with their own rules, while many did not. I chose to live in Guppytown. The city planning there began and ended with the name. Rumor has it that it was named for the founder's son who was lost in the storm, Guppy had been his nickname, but no one ever confirmed that.
Oddly enough, we were all happy in Guppytown. And as far as we knew, everyone else on earth was living in the same post-storm happiness we were. Everyone worked a few hours a day, but not near as much as before. We all had food, water, and most importantly, very little stress.
As I sat on the roof of my make-shift hut thinking about this. Thinking about how the storm had created a nearly perfect weather pattern. And how there seemed to be little danger left in the world, I was happy. For the first time since my childhood I was genuinely euphoric, and the world around me seemed to be too.
And as I looked out into the darkness the skies opened up. For the first time since the storm the stars began to shine, many times larger than they ever had before. They appeared to me that night as melted, like they were from a Salvador Dali painting. They were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen and they remain there, floating in space, reminding us of how the storm changed us to this very day. | |
[WP] Write a dystopia that turns into a utopia. | Stars.
I can never get enough of stars. In the ancient times, the Babylonians and Greeks saw them as gods and godly planes, the planets being the godly heroes travelling through the unimaginably fantastic worlds, and heading to the underwold every time a planet disappeared behind the horizon for days or months. *Planetai* in greek meant to wander. That's why I like the planets most. They wander through strange lands just like I once did. They always travel their assigned ways, even if it means stepping down to the world of the dead. Many years after the ancient times, romantics imagined that every star is a soul of a dead person. It is strange how death let us reclaim the stars, I thought.
The majestic cloud of the Milky Way was arching over our heads, with visible color differences between the stars. Some were yellow, some blueish, but my favorite were the ones shining in a fiery, ruby red.
"Hondo" - said one of the children by the fireplace in a low, inquiring tone - "why do you look at the stars so much?" bringing me back from the world of wandering thought into reality.
I paused, looked at the child to acknowledge his question and looked away, stroking my beard. I learned to take my time with everything I say and this was a very personal question, but the child could not know that. Silence conveys ideas too.
"You see, child, when I was young, there were no stars visible. What do you think when you look at them?"
The child stuttered, not being sure what kind of answer I expected from him. "I think they are mysterious." - the young boy said hesitantly - "But they look very pretty on a night like this." He relaxed a little. I could see that his face, lit by the fireplace, was directed towards the sky as he was talking.
"Yes, they are very beautiful. When I was your age, most of the people in the world were deprived of that beauty. I think it should be a human right to see the stars, just like it once was a human right to have a room with a window to the outside world. But then things changed. There were chemical plants and factories and power plants growing and growing and they made so much dust and smoke. So the sky turned white, then grey, then brown. Some people never saw the stars in their lives."
"Why did they do it, teacher?" There was curiosity in the boy's voice. The other children, sitting in an uneven ring around the fireplace, slowly stopped their quiet chatter. They were all curious. Perhaps because they could not imagine how could someone live without ever seeing the wonder of a starry sky. It was a good moment. It was time to tell them.
"Well..." - I said, modulating my voice up and down not to sound too serious. I wanted them to know I am not only their teacher, but also one of them. - "back then people did not seek the touch of rock on the palms of their hands. They did not want to sweat. They forgot the smell of cooking meat over a fire, and the joy of making something of their own. They seeked out other things. Various things. Posessions, status, or simply, some kind of twisted ease of mind. They bought with money everything made for them. That became their sole purpose. They were like children, trapped in a playground full of toys too colorful and shiny, to care about anything else. Their souls were eaten away slowly. Along with the souls, died the friendship and kindness." I paused to grief for these poor, lost people. "How did you make Alekke your best friend?" I asked the curious boy.
"We were in the forest gathering firewood, when a bear snuck up on us. The sun was dawning, it shined in our eyes and we could not see what lurks in the west. Alekke warned me and when the bear attacked, we killed it with a slingshot and spear". He straightened up his back, and his chest inflated with pride. He was talking with me, but discreetly glanced at others to make sure they heard his tale. Of course they all heard it before, but he was never tired of retelling it.
"What happened next?" - I asked, letting him bask in the glory for a minute longer.
"We brought back the bear and the firewood to the village. It was even harder than killing that monster. Bears are heavy! But when we made a fire of that wood and ate the bear meat, it was the best meat I have ever had. And the coziest fire, too!" He laughed.
"Because it was so hard to get it, and you did it all by yourself!" I added.
"Yes, Hondo. But what happened to the factories? Something must have happened because we can see the stars now"
"Yes. These people did not know the pride of doing something so courageous and laborious. They had everything handed to them, that's why their bodies and souls went bleak. There were a few who disagreed with the blindness of that world. They did not know how to wake others from that slumber. When I want someone to wake up and he won't, I slap him in the face if I must to. And this is what they did" - I sighed - "they waged war. They were born into, and lived in a rotten, skewed world and they could not see clearly. They did knww they had to do something, and took the simplest way. They started destroying the factories, the power plants. But many people did not understand them, and they fought them back. The factories, instead of wonderful toys, started producing powerful weapons of blazing fire, and the skies changed from brown to red. Normal people did not know what to do. They had been secluded in their beautiful homes and did not understand the world. So many of them died" - I glanced at the stars again - "I understood. I knew we had to get away. I knew how, because I had learned to read maps, to understand clouds and seasons. I was friends with the plants. Me and some of your grandparents left our homes and headed east, and then north. It did not matter whose land we were walking on. There was chaos. We hid during the day and marched in the night, until we were in the planes of the southern Siberia, where we are now. There were no factories there, only steppe, so we knew we were safe. But we had to do everything on our own. It was hard for our bodies, but good for our souls. Many died, but most died happy. They earned a good death, -" I hung up my voice, hesitantly. I wanted to tell them about the unholy deaths of the bleak people. I saw many of their deaths. For some, it was quick, with very little anticipation, while for others, slow and agonizing, but they all had something in common. The fear, confusion and a striking lack of understanding of what is happening. Death and pain were excluded from their worlds, until war knocked to their doors. Their pitiful, weak bodies wouldn't allow them to run for their lives, when it came to it. So they died. By hundreds, thousands, millions, by numbers larger than all the stars in the sky. They never went away fighting. They were not familiar with the notion.
"But what happened to the smoke?" Inquired a high, squeaky voice. I was grateful for the interruption of my memories of death. I would spare the young child the horrors of war. For now.
"5 years after our settlement, and 7 years after out departure, I saw the hazy silhouette of the moon. A year later - the first star. Actually it was the planet Venus. It had emerged from the underworld under the horizon in the early morning, before sunrise. Over next months the day sky slowly turned from red to brown, to gray to white-ish and then finally it went blue, and all the stars returned." I said in a concluding tone. I liked to tease my students this way.
"But whyyy?" The boy asked, wriggling in his seat. I smiled.
"Well, I don't know, to tell you the truth! But I think that all the factories must have been destroyed. And the people... well, they either learned to live on their own account, like us, or... died. The starry sky is their gift for us."
A small falling star made a small trail over the horizon.
"Make a wish!" I said, but my wish was already there, staring me in the eyes, with a bright, reddish glow. | I was in a gaming store on the day the world as we knew it ended in June of 2009. It started with a storm and though it seemed as if it would be a normal summer storm, somewhere inside we knew it wouldn't be. As we stood in the parking lot of the shopping center we watched the dark clouds roll in, faster, and stronger than ever before. If a storm ever had the ability to hate, it was this one, and we could feel it.
First came the rain and the thunder, a 100 year storm they called it. It was massive and lasted for days. After the storm the darkness remained, there was no sun, no stars, and no moon. This lasted many years and much of society crumbled. As there was little to no power, many governments lost control all together as they had no way to communicate or keep tabs over large masses.
Some societies came up with their own rules, while many did not. I chose to live in Guppytown. The city planning there began and ended with the name. Rumor has it that it was named for the founder's son who was lost in the storm, Guppy had been his nickname, but no one ever confirmed that.
Oddly enough, we were all happy in Guppytown. And as far as we knew, everyone else on earth was living in the same post-storm happiness we were. Everyone worked a few hours a day, but not near as much as before. We all had food, water, and most importantly, very little stress.
As I sat on the roof of my make-shift hut thinking about this. Thinking about how the storm had created a nearly perfect weather pattern. And how there seemed to be little danger left in the world, I was happy. For the first time since my childhood I was genuinely euphoric, and the world around me seemed to be too.
And as I looked out into the darkness the skies opened up. For the first time since the storm the stars began to shine, many times larger than they ever had before. They appeared to me that night as melted, like they were from a Salvador Dali painting. They were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen and they remain there, floating in space, reminding us of how the storm changed us to this very day. | |
[WP] Write a dystopia that turns into a utopia. | A dead horse and a half empty bottle of water. That was all I had left in the world.
I knew the trip would be cutting it close, but it was an important mater for my lord the king. At least it had seemed important at the time. Looking back I can't even remember what it was. Something about the stars.
I had set off across the wide white salt flats West of my country towards a neighbouring land and a neighbouring king. Deep enough into the desert to make the shortest trip, but hopefully not deep enough to run into any of the savage natives. I took as few supplies as possible for what would be three days ride. I knew I would be hungry and dehydrated by my journey's end but speed was the priority. I was making good time until my horse collapsed from the heat.
I could never make it to any civilised place before I died. My only hope of life was rescue which was unlikely under the isolated, extreme circumstances. I would be dead before my countrymen even knew I was missing, and even sooner if i tried to trek across the boiling wasteland.
I was sure I would die. My tongue was as dry and rough as the sand that battered my skin. I was beyond noticing the hunger and the thirst but not the heat. Heat was my entire existence as I lay there against my dead horse waiting to die.
I briefly considered trying to drink the blood of my horse but decided it would only prolong my suffering. And I had to get out of that heat.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath of resignation, and gave myself over to the desert.
---
I awoke laying on a floor. I stayed lying down against the hard stone, allowing its coolness to soak into me. I was never a religious man, but that cool stone felt better than the blessings of all the gods of men ever could.
I was in a cell. It was dark and all made of black stone, accept the grey metal bars of the door. There was a part of the wall roughly carved onto the shape of a sink and a hole in the floor next to it. The sink had water in it. I drank, but I noticed I wasn't dehydrated to begin with. I was hungry, but not weak from starvation.
There was a man outside the door in the dim candlelit hallway. He was small, maybe 130 centimetres, with dark skin a thick square jaw and long bright white hair. He stared at me with cold unblinking eyes, grey as the metal of the door. He wore a single tattered sand coloured cloth draped over one shoulder and tied to his mid section with a plain rope. It barely covered him and I could see his powerful, almost unnaturally strong build. He looked like he could crush my bones to dust if he so desired. On his waist was tied a chain of slender bronze coloured keys. In his hand he casually held a thin dagger. This man was dangerous regardless of his small stature. More than dangerous, he was a Desert Walker, a native of the hellish wasteland I had thought to die in.
I had heard stories of the savage people that lived in holes in the desert. Anarchists who delighted in nothing more than attacking unsuspecting passers-by through their ancestral land. They had no homes, no rule of law, they lived in squalor and were as likely to kill their own kin for the meat on their bones as take the lives of unsuspecting travelers.
I stared at the man. His appearance matched the stories I had heard perfectly. All but his height. He had the face and shape of a man full grown but the stature of a child.
I felt my heart racing in my chest. I looked for a weapon but the cell was barren and my possessions had been taken from me. I was trapped alone in some savage's hole with nothing to defend myself with.
I collected myself and marched as confidently as I could towards the door. Without dropping eye contact, I put both hands on the bars and shook them with all my strength. They were as solid as the floor I walked on.
I stooped down to his eye level and shook the bars again with no difference. I let my hands rest hanging through the bars while I looked at the man. This Walker. He really was terrifying. He made no move to stop me or intimidate me. He only stood and starred and held the dagger.
"Can you speak my language?" I asked. He starred. "Because this really isn't going to be much of a conversation otherwise" I was terrified. My heart was going to explode and it was all I could do to not visible gasp. But I could not let him see that.
I started again, "You know what I-" I darted my hand out and grabbed the keys from his waist. He was so surprised that when his dagger came whirling toward my arm, I was already pulling it back. He cut my hand but only superficially. Then he tried to stab me in the chest but I jumped back too fast for him.
The briefest flash of irritation came over his face and was gone as fast as it had come, replaced again by that cold blank stare.
He would have to go fetch another key. One cannot just let a prisoner hold the key to his cell, even under heavy guard. My jailer would have to come in to get the keys, but first he would need another key to open the door. He would have to go get the key himself for my plan to work. A slim chance, but I doubt these people would have thought I would cause enough trouble to warrant two guards.
The walker looked down slightly, considering, then back up to me. He turned and walked quickly down the hallway.
I rushed to the door and opened it as quietly as I could. I closed and locked the cell behind me and slunk into the cell across from mine and hid behind the wall. I didn't have to wait long before he returned.
As soon as I heard him unlock the door I ran out from my cover to see two men where I had hoped to see one. Too late now they were about to hear me anyway. I slammed into the men and set the first into the second and both of them into my first cell. I backed up and slammed the door with the two Walkers trapped inside. I locked the door as the first man jumped to his feet and came at me with his dagger.
I pulled and snapped the key off just as he made it to the door. White hot pain blossomed in my hand as the dagger slid clean through it, protruding out of my palm. It was worse than any pain I had ever felt before. Worse than dying.
I pulled my hand free and held it in the other to try to stop the geyser of blood erupting from both sides of the wound.
I ran. I had no sense of direction, no idea where I was going. All I knew was fear and desperation. I reached the end of the rough stone hallway, turned the corner, ran past another corridor, then another. I ran towards a bright light at the tunnels end.
As I sprinted through the hole in the wall, expecting the freedom and only very relative safety of an endless desert, two things happened. I was tackled to the ground by another guard standing next to the tunnel on the other side, and my mind went into complete shock.
I stood in the middle of a city. More than a city, the most amazing work of architecture I had ever seen. carved out of the rock were buildings and streets and catwalks. White light came from boxes, that somehow contained no flame, all along the walls and buildings. There were shops fountains and noise and there were people everywhere. Desert Walkers. They were all dressed in fine clothes and everyone was staring at me. Not surprised. I was no threat or mystery to them. Just an oddity they had not seen the likes of many times before.
"Fool", The guard whispered in my ear. I could hear the sincere regret in his voice "They would have let you leave before".
---
I'm new at this so any of your thoughts would be greatly appreciated. Thanks OP for the great starting point and thanks in advance for any feedback. | I was in a gaming store on the day the world as we knew it ended in June of 2009. It started with a storm and though it seemed as if it would be a normal summer storm, somewhere inside we knew it wouldn't be. As we stood in the parking lot of the shopping center we watched the dark clouds roll in, faster, and stronger than ever before. If a storm ever had the ability to hate, it was this one, and we could feel it.
First came the rain and the thunder, a 100 year storm they called it. It was massive and lasted for days. After the storm the darkness remained, there was no sun, no stars, and no moon. This lasted many years and much of society crumbled. As there was little to no power, many governments lost control all together as they had no way to communicate or keep tabs over large masses.
Some societies came up with their own rules, while many did not. I chose to live in Guppytown. The city planning there began and ended with the name. Rumor has it that it was named for the founder's son who was lost in the storm, Guppy had been his nickname, but no one ever confirmed that.
Oddly enough, we were all happy in Guppytown. And as far as we knew, everyone else on earth was living in the same post-storm happiness we were. Everyone worked a few hours a day, but not near as much as before. We all had food, water, and most importantly, very little stress.
As I sat on the roof of my make-shift hut thinking about this. Thinking about how the storm had created a nearly perfect weather pattern. And how there seemed to be little danger left in the world, I was happy. For the first time since my childhood I was genuinely euphoric, and the world around me seemed to be too.
And as I looked out into the darkness the skies opened up. For the first time since the storm the stars began to shine, many times larger than they ever had before. They appeared to me that night as melted, like they were from a Salvador Dali painting. They were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen and they remain there, floating in space, reminding us of how the storm changed us to this very day. | |
[WP] Write a dystopia that turns into a utopia. | Sand, fuckin sand as far as the eye can see.
Still sand everywhere, sand and heat.
Finally on the horizon a shine catches the eye, could it be after days in this god damn desert a sign of water? If I had the energy I'd run but every step is torture, slowly, slowly I edge closer until at last I'm there. Its a lush desert oasis.
I sink into the water whic is hot from the sun and break down into tears, I had to leave her she couldn't go on, I couldn't carry her it made no sense for us both to die.
I cup my hands and pull some water to my lips, it feels hot, grainy and dry, I start coughing and in an instant the oasis is gone. Everything is sand again.
As I pull myself to my feet I hear the crack of a whip , the doom riders are out again looking for something worth stealing , they already took my water and turned me loose like some sick joke to wander out here until the sun gets me , as they get closer I hear another crack this time louder and deeper, it seems like its coming from all around me.
Then. Slowly. Drop by drop. Water is falling from the sky, like magic the water pours over my skin, it fills my open mouth , fills me with vigour.
This continues for days then dissapears but some water stays in lakes and streams , the sand slowly turns to grass, flowers bloom and animals return.
I venture out to find her body hoping the doom riders haven't eaten her. After a few hours I spot her lying beside the same rock where we parted, as I approach I think I see some movement, just a trick of the mind, but then again, slowly she raises her head. Turning she spots me and rises on four furry legs , she looks healthier than before. She bounds over with her tail wagging and jumps on me like I've just come home from work, like the old days.
| I was in a gaming store on the day the world as we knew it ended in June of 2009. It started with a storm and though it seemed as if it would be a normal summer storm, somewhere inside we knew it wouldn't be. As we stood in the parking lot of the shopping center we watched the dark clouds roll in, faster, and stronger than ever before. If a storm ever had the ability to hate, it was this one, and we could feel it.
First came the rain and the thunder, a 100 year storm they called it. It was massive and lasted for days. After the storm the darkness remained, there was no sun, no stars, and no moon. This lasted many years and much of society crumbled. As there was little to no power, many governments lost control all together as they had no way to communicate or keep tabs over large masses.
Some societies came up with their own rules, while many did not. I chose to live in Guppytown. The city planning there began and ended with the name. Rumor has it that it was named for the founder's son who was lost in the storm, Guppy had been his nickname, but no one ever confirmed that.
Oddly enough, we were all happy in Guppytown. And as far as we knew, everyone else on earth was living in the same post-storm happiness we were. Everyone worked a few hours a day, but not near as much as before. We all had food, water, and most importantly, very little stress.
As I sat on the roof of my make-shift hut thinking about this. Thinking about how the storm had created a nearly perfect weather pattern. And how there seemed to be little danger left in the world, I was happy. For the first time since my childhood I was genuinely euphoric, and the world around me seemed to be too.
And as I looked out into the darkness the skies opened up. For the first time since the storm the stars began to shine, many times larger than they ever had before. They appeared to me that night as melted, like they were from a Salvador Dali painting. They were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen and they remain there, floating in space, reminding us of how the storm changed us to this very day. | |
[WP] Write a dystopia that turns into a utopia. | It was a red day meaning service day. The men in uniforms pushed us along the cells, those neat lines of indiscriminate hate and metal. The bars that secured us in our homes were the same that kept us alive.
Service day, a red day. A nothing day. A day that comes and goes, like the ashes of our fallen. We pay homage to the service of our fellow man, be he in uniform toiling the farms, the land, the sea. Be it a woman making way for life, tending the children or healing the discarded. Be it the machines that protect us, to the bolts that hold us in our homes, we pay service to those around us.
*Please report to your designated stations. Tardiness is unacceptable, and will be punished accordingly.*
The public announcer's automated message echoed throughout the hall. Shuffled again through more doors, past more windows, we reached the main auditorium. A drab, solemn room, devoid of emotion. A condescending room, filled with the imagination of a coffin. I hacked up a chunk of my lung as I found my allotted seat, trying to hold my cough down before the service began.
*Service will begin soon, please be mindful of those around you.*
It was a red day, a service day. I waited, until the grey room turned dark, a whirring of a projector activating being heard from the back. Service was beginning.
"Today is March 13, 3016, marking the third service of our holy year. A significant month as our leaders make way for the future. Production figures this month are up by twenty percent.."
It always began with the achieved quotas, production estimated and yielded results. Nothing of importance gained or lost as I drifted slowly into a grey abyss of thoughtless state of mind.
"And now, a moment of silence for those lost."
Suddenly, the purring of the projector was the only audible noise. Breathing became a chore, as not to disturb the service, everyone temporarily held their breathe. No one coughed, no one sneezed. No one dared breathe.
"We thank you for showing respect."
The room sighed with an air of relief.
"Next month, food rations will be doubled with the anticipated arrival of Minister Mawan. A special gift of complimentary coffee will be provided at his arrival to all subjects."
A quiet murmur grew into a wave of chatter. There hadn't been a ration increase since... ever.
"Lastly, the Reading Agricultural Center test has been concluded, results have been a success. With new operations increasing, ration portions are to increase substantially. More news to come as information comes in."
There was a sudden burst of excitement. I thought to the measly bread roll and cabbage soup that was the standard ration and watered caffeine water. I thought of the possibilities as more rations would stream in.
It was a red day. It was a good day. A doing day. A day to celebrate. It was service day. | I was in a gaming store on the day the world as we knew it ended in June of 2009. It started with a storm and though it seemed as if it would be a normal summer storm, somewhere inside we knew it wouldn't be. As we stood in the parking lot of the shopping center we watched the dark clouds roll in, faster, and stronger than ever before. If a storm ever had the ability to hate, it was this one, and we could feel it.
First came the rain and the thunder, a 100 year storm they called it. It was massive and lasted for days. After the storm the darkness remained, there was no sun, no stars, and no moon. This lasted many years and much of society crumbled. As there was little to no power, many governments lost control all together as they had no way to communicate or keep tabs over large masses.
Some societies came up with their own rules, while many did not. I chose to live in Guppytown. The city planning there began and ended with the name. Rumor has it that it was named for the founder's son who was lost in the storm, Guppy had been his nickname, but no one ever confirmed that.
Oddly enough, we were all happy in Guppytown. And as far as we knew, everyone else on earth was living in the same post-storm happiness we were. Everyone worked a few hours a day, but not near as much as before. We all had food, water, and most importantly, very little stress.
As I sat on the roof of my make-shift hut thinking about this. Thinking about how the storm had created a nearly perfect weather pattern. And how there seemed to be little danger left in the world, I was happy. For the first time since my childhood I was genuinely euphoric, and the world around me seemed to be too.
And as I looked out into the darkness the skies opened up. For the first time since the storm the stars began to shine, many times larger than they ever had before. They appeared to me that night as melted, like they were from a Salvador Dali painting. They were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen and they remain there, floating in space, reminding us of how the storm changed us to this very day. | |
[WP] Write a dystopia that turns into a utopia. | A land of damp and dark disease;
A home of curs and petty thieves,
A place where death was but a fact
Where grimy streets bore grubby rats.
No hospital could give the care
To counteract the filthy air,
And as the thousands dying lay
Their fetid homes required to stay;
Persuaded not by words of law
But barricades upon the door,
Supine in black and dripping rooms,
Enfeebled by their seeping wounds:
With strength enough to blink the eyes,
But lacking what it took to die
Before to many more it spread
With half the population dead.
And coloured by a sore you knew
You'd give it to your children too,
Whose eyes did mirror deathly fear
And hues of dark dystopia.
_______________________________
A century or two went by
And London did remultiply,
For sanitation, as they found,
Would send the death rate ever down.
So prosper did the city more,
And spread itself to foreign shores,
To share enlightenment abroad
By means of word or means of sword.
And as the lands expanded out
There couldn't follow any doubt,
That London such a holy town,
Entitled by its Monarch's crown
Should share by noble clarion
It's tasks humanitarian,
To wealthy lands declaring them,
And words to wares comparing them.
So gentlemen did sail away,
A pious debt prepared to pay
With debts of other kinds beside,
From chartered ships on chartered tides.
And long they would return again,
But always with the will to send,
Another ship with more to share
Unless the money wasn't there...
Oh what a land of purity!
A home of bright divinity!
Where ravaged lands could London hear,
In awe of it's utopia.
| I was in a gaming store on the day the world as we knew it ended in June of 2009. It started with a storm and though it seemed as if it would be a normal summer storm, somewhere inside we knew it wouldn't be. As we stood in the parking lot of the shopping center we watched the dark clouds roll in, faster, and stronger than ever before. If a storm ever had the ability to hate, it was this one, and we could feel it.
First came the rain and the thunder, a 100 year storm they called it. It was massive and lasted for days. After the storm the darkness remained, there was no sun, no stars, and no moon. This lasted many years and much of society crumbled. As there was little to no power, many governments lost control all together as they had no way to communicate or keep tabs over large masses.
Some societies came up with their own rules, while many did not. I chose to live in Guppytown. The city planning there began and ended with the name. Rumor has it that it was named for the founder's son who was lost in the storm, Guppy had been his nickname, but no one ever confirmed that.
Oddly enough, we were all happy in Guppytown. And as far as we knew, everyone else on earth was living in the same post-storm happiness we were. Everyone worked a few hours a day, but not near as much as before. We all had food, water, and most importantly, very little stress.
As I sat on the roof of my make-shift hut thinking about this. Thinking about how the storm had created a nearly perfect weather pattern. And how there seemed to be little danger left in the world, I was happy. For the first time since my childhood I was genuinely euphoric, and the world around me seemed to be too.
And as I looked out into the darkness the skies opened up. For the first time since the storm the stars began to shine, many times larger than they ever had before. They appeared to me that night as melted, like they were from a Salvador Dali painting. They were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen and they remain there, floating in space, reminding us of how the storm changed us to this very day. | |
[WP] Write a dystopia that turns into a utopia. | Eight years ago I was visiting a day spa--on holiday, in the mountains--when a massive earthquake destroyed everything. Or at least I assume that it did--there's no way for me to tell, really.
At the moment of the earthquake, I was getting myself a towel from an exceptionally large closet. I've been trapped in here ever since. Something's blocking the door, I don't know what. I've stopped thinking about it.
I've made the best of it, though. There's definitely enough room in the closet to make a life in, and enough towels to make it with. My towel bed is comfortable and spacious, my towel couch is well-stuffed and folds out if I have guests. There's even a towel lamp, which I use to read towel books in the evening. The lamp's shade is a particularly thin hand-towel, kind of like the napkins they give you at fancier restaurants, and for kindling I use old rags that have served their purpose.
I've even got art--there's a towel by Macy's that I'm particularly fond of, framed on the wall. It's a luxuriant blue, with the kind of texture that dazzles if you look at it too long, and often I do. I was thinking of getting another one, but I don't want the wall to look too cluttered. There's a fine aesthetic balance, there.
I even started my own family--Junior was just a washcloth only a few years ago, and already he's the kind of hand towel that I always believed he would be. His mother and I are so very proud. It's a blissful scene in the morning--I'm reading the paper when he comes down around eight, just in time for school. My wife is in the kitchen, making breakfast--the hearty smell of towels cooking hits me all at once, and I'm content.
I won't lie to you, though--even though I've just described to you this perfect idyll of domestic life, sometimes I wonder what happened to the rest of the world. That's why I'm not worried right now, even though something is making noises against the door I mentioned. I'm perfectly calm. I have towels wrapped tightly around me, and I feel safe.
The door finally opens. A man walks in. He looks around, then turns to shout to someone, "Hey, I found all the towels!" Then he turns back, and sees me.
At first he is only confused, but I give him a sincere smile and it seems to reassure him. He says to me, "We've been looking for towels for a very long time--we knew they were around here somewhere, we just didn't know where."
He inspects me carefully. I'm wearing my towel suit, as I was just about to go to work, so I don't mind the intense sartorial scrutiny. But I don't say anything.
"How long have you been in here?"
"Eight years," I finally say.
For a moment, he contemplates in silence what such a long time must mean. Its weight is surely felt. Then he says, "Listen, there's a spa out there, and a bunch of teams from the FIFA Women's World Cup just showed up. They're all just running around naked, since we ran out of towels. I'm not telling you that you have to, but if you could grab a handful of towels and bring them out, it would be really helpful."
I look back at my life--my furniture, my kid, my wife. Everything I've lived for, for eight years. It's a lot to think about. It's a hard decision. I ask him, "How many do you think you'll need?" | I was in a gaming store on the day the world as we knew it ended in June of 2009. It started with a storm and though it seemed as if it would be a normal summer storm, somewhere inside we knew it wouldn't be. As we stood in the parking lot of the shopping center we watched the dark clouds roll in, faster, and stronger than ever before. If a storm ever had the ability to hate, it was this one, and we could feel it.
First came the rain and the thunder, a 100 year storm they called it. It was massive and lasted for days. After the storm the darkness remained, there was no sun, no stars, and no moon. This lasted many years and much of society crumbled. As there was little to no power, many governments lost control all together as they had no way to communicate or keep tabs over large masses.
Some societies came up with their own rules, while many did not. I chose to live in Guppytown. The city planning there began and ended with the name. Rumor has it that it was named for the founder's son who was lost in the storm, Guppy had been his nickname, but no one ever confirmed that.
Oddly enough, we were all happy in Guppytown. And as far as we knew, everyone else on earth was living in the same post-storm happiness we were. Everyone worked a few hours a day, but not near as much as before. We all had food, water, and most importantly, very little stress.
As I sat on the roof of my make-shift hut thinking about this. Thinking about how the storm had created a nearly perfect weather pattern. And how there seemed to be little danger left in the world, I was happy. For the first time since my childhood I was genuinely euphoric, and the world around me seemed to be too.
And as I looked out into the darkness the skies opened up. For the first time since the storm the stars began to shine, many times larger than they ever had before. They appeared to me that night as melted, like they were from a Salvador Dali painting. They were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen and they remain there, floating in space, reminding us of how the storm changed us to this very day. | |
[WP] Write a dystopia that turns into a utopia. | Stars.
I can never get enough of stars. In the ancient times, the Babylonians and Greeks saw them as gods and godly planes, the planets being the godly heroes travelling through the unimaginably fantastic worlds, and heading to the underwold every time a planet disappeared behind the horizon for days or months. *Planetai* in greek meant to wander. That's why I like the planets most. They wander through strange lands just like I once did. They always travel their assigned ways, even if it means stepping down to the world of the dead. Many years after the ancient times, romantics imagined that every star is a soul of a dead person. It is strange how death let us reclaim the stars, I thought.
The majestic cloud of the Milky Way was arching over our heads, with visible color differences between the stars. Some were yellow, some blueish, but my favorite were the ones shining in a fiery, ruby red.
"Hondo" - said one of the children by the fireplace in a low, inquiring tone - "why do you look at the stars so much?" bringing me back from the world of wandering thought into reality.
I paused, looked at the child to acknowledge his question and looked away, stroking my beard. I learned to take my time with everything I say and this was a very personal question, but the child could not know that. Silence conveys ideas too.
"You see, child, when I was young, there were no stars visible. What do you think when you look at them?"
The child stuttered, not being sure what kind of answer I expected from him. "I think they are mysterious." - the young boy said hesitantly - "But they look very pretty on a night like this." He relaxed a little. I could see that his face, lit by the fireplace, was directed towards the sky as he was talking.
"Yes, they are very beautiful. When I was your age, most of the people in the world were deprived of that beauty. I think it should be a human right to see the stars, just like it once was a human right to have a room with a window to the outside world. But then things changed. There were chemical plants and factories and power plants growing and growing and they made so much dust and smoke. So the sky turned white, then grey, then brown. Some people never saw the stars in their lives."
"Why did they do it, teacher?" There was curiosity in the boy's voice. The other children, sitting in an uneven ring around the fireplace, slowly stopped their quiet chatter. They were all curious. Perhaps because they could not imagine how could someone live without ever seeing the wonder of a starry sky. It was a good moment. It was time to tell them.
"Well..." - I said, modulating my voice up and down not to sound too serious. I wanted them to know I am not only their teacher, but also one of them. - "back then people did not seek the touch of rock on the palms of their hands. They did not want to sweat. They forgot the smell of cooking meat over a fire, and the joy of making something of their own. They seeked out other things. Various things. Posessions, status, or simply, some kind of twisted ease of mind. They bought with money everything made for them. That became their sole purpose. They were like children, trapped in a playground full of toys too colorful and shiny, to care about anything else. Their souls were eaten away slowly. Along with the souls, died the friendship and kindness." I paused to grief for these poor, lost people. "How did you make Alekke your best friend?" I asked the curious boy.
"We were in the forest gathering firewood, when a bear snuck up on us. The sun was dawning, it shined in our eyes and we could not see what lurks in the west. Alekke warned me and when the bear attacked, we killed it with a slingshot and spear". He straightened up his back, and his chest inflated with pride. He was talking with me, but discreetly glanced at others to make sure they heard his tale. Of course they all heard it before, but he was never tired of retelling it.
"What happened next?" - I asked, letting him bask in the glory for a minute longer.
"We brought back the bear and the firewood to the village. It was even harder than killing that monster. Bears are heavy! But when we made a fire of that wood and ate the bear meat, it was the best meat I have ever had. And the coziest fire, too!" He laughed.
"Because it was so hard to get it, and you did it all by yourself!" I added.
"Yes, Hondo. But what happened to the factories? Something must have happened because we can see the stars now"
"Yes. These people did not know the pride of doing something so courageous and laborious. They had everything handed to them, that's why their bodies and souls went bleak. There were a few who disagreed with the blindness of that world. They did not know how to wake others from that slumber. When I want someone to wake up and he won't, I slap him in the face if I must to. And this is what they did" - I sighed - "they waged war. They were born into, and lived in a rotten, skewed world and they could not see clearly. They did knww they had to do something, and took the simplest way. They started destroying the factories, the power plants. But many people did not understand them, and they fought them back. The factories, instead of wonderful toys, started producing powerful weapons of blazing fire, and the skies changed from brown to red. Normal people did not know what to do. They had been secluded in their beautiful homes and did not understand the world. So many of them died" - I glanced at the stars again - "I understood. I knew we had to get away. I knew how, because I had learned to read maps, to understand clouds and seasons. I was friends with the plants. Me and some of your grandparents left our homes and headed east, and then north. It did not matter whose land we were walking on. There was chaos. We hid during the day and marched in the night, until we were in the planes of the southern Siberia, where we are now. There were no factories there, only steppe, so we knew we were safe. But we had to do everything on our own. It was hard for our bodies, but good for our souls. Many died, but most died happy. They earned a good death, -" I hung up my voice, hesitantly. I wanted to tell them about the unholy deaths of the bleak people. I saw many of their deaths. For some, it was quick, with very little anticipation, while for others, slow and agonizing, but they all had something in common. The fear, confusion and a striking lack of understanding of what is happening. Death and pain were excluded from their worlds, until war knocked to their doors. Their pitiful, weak bodies wouldn't allow them to run for their lives, when it came to it. So they died. By hundreds, thousands, millions, by numbers larger than all the stars in the sky. They never went away fighting. They were not familiar with the notion.
"But what happened to the smoke?" Inquired a high, squeaky voice. I was grateful for the interruption of my memories of death. I would spare the young child the horrors of war. For now.
"5 years after our settlement, and 7 years after out departure, I saw the hazy silhouette of the moon. A year later - the first star. Actually it was the planet Venus. It had emerged from the underworld under the horizon in the early morning, before sunrise. Over next months the day sky slowly turned from red to brown, to gray to white-ish and then finally it went blue, and all the stars returned." I said in a concluding tone. I liked to tease my students this way.
"But whyyy?" The boy asked, wriggling in his seat. I smiled.
"Well, I don't know, to tell you the truth! But I think that all the factories must have been destroyed. And the people... well, they either learned to live on their own account, like us, or... died. The starry sky is their gift for us."
A small falling star made a small trail over the horizon.
"Make a wish!" I said, but my wish was already there, staring me in the eyes, with a bright, reddish glow. | Everyone is relatively sure that it's got to be something in the water. The only other place it could be is in the air, but we'd notice. They're relatively sure we'd notice.
Of course where would we even begin if we figured out where it was coming from. Assuming that it's something we're imbibing or inhaling, I mean maybe they've figured out how to put it through the rays of the goddamn sun. And all of THAT is assuming it's a chemical or a medication. Maybe it's a...procedure. I don't like to think about it. My own biology put on standby since I was a little one. And how? No one knows. But I swear, if we knew we'd fight it. Try and do our own reversals. Wouldn't you? If you ask me, the Laws shouldn't have passed. They shouldn't be able to control us like this.
I guess it's only a big concern when you think about it too much. Normally you can forget but when you drift off, the lingering thought rears it's ugly head. Of course, I think a lot these days. Grandpa says its so much easier now to drift off into thought. Stress kills thought, he says, but stress is just a memory to him now. The control doesn't even bother him! I could never understand how they could be okay with the Laws. The government controlling THAT much of a person. He insists if I was born in his time I'd understand. Wouldn't have had a table to eat off of, let alone something to eat, "if things continued." Honestly I think he's exaggerating. We were doing fine over here from all their accounts, there was plenty of space, my mum and dad did well. Never starved, never went "uneducated." We weren't billionaires like you hear of way back in the day, but we were solid. They were solid. Of course you never hear of starving or being stupid nowadays - but they say it was a thing and it was heading our way. But I don't want to think about it now. I'm not one of the ones anymore that has to think about it. Ruth and I, we've been approved.
What a day that was. I'll tell you, as soon as we were approved, she bloomed like I had never seen, her heart unfolded and beamed right through her skin. She clutched that green slip of paper with its golden embossed stamp, could hardly hand it to the technician the day we went into the hospital for our reversals. She was a beam of love and light, you could hardly touch her without glowing yourself. She was herself. That was just shy of a year ago, and we're on the other end now. I've only known a few people my age who've gotten to where we are, gotten that sweet, sweet green light. Made enough money, or been healthy enough to get a green light I mean, since the standards are pretty damn high. But we made it.
It could be any day now; I confirmed our reservation at Malthus General and it's set to go. We wanted a window room, so we could welcome the dawn as well as the little one. Our parents are flying in to be there, they haven't seen a delivery since they got their own green light thirty years back. I can't wait. It's all I've ever wanted. I can't wait to share everything with the little one. Give everything, absolutely everything, to him or her. The world is theirs.
But moreso, I feel like my whole natural self, in this very moment. It'll be rough when the Reactivation kicks in. Can you believe that? After getting approved they make you get approved over and over. Another few years, another qualification hearing or two. I don't like it at all. I'd have ten right away if I could. I've got enough love in me for fifty, but the Laws would never allow it. I mean the limit is only three. Fuck, I mean...how can you put a limit on it? We all have so much, we want for nothing. How can we not share it all? How can they forbid us from passing it all down, isn't that the right thing to do? How could letting people carry on naturally be seen as a risk? Sometimes I really wonder.
I'll tell you what though. Our first green slip, with that beautiful golden stamp... that's already the first page in the baby book. | |
[WP] Write a dystopia that turns into a utopia. | A dead horse and a half empty bottle of water. That was all I had left in the world.
I knew the trip would be cutting it close, but it was an important mater for my lord the king. At least it had seemed important at the time. Looking back I can't even remember what it was. Something about the stars.
I had set off across the wide white salt flats West of my country towards a neighbouring land and a neighbouring king. Deep enough into the desert to make the shortest trip, but hopefully not deep enough to run into any of the savage natives. I took as few supplies as possible for what would be three days ride. I knew I would be hungry and dehydrated by my journey's end but speed was the priority. I was making good time until my horse collapsed from the heat.
I could never make it to any civilised place before I died. My only hope of life was rescue which was unlikely under the isolated, extreme circumstances. I would be dead before my countrymen even knew I was missing, and even sooner if i tried to trek across the boiling wasteland.
I was sure I would die. My tongue was as dry and rough as the sand that battered my skin. I was beyond noticing the hunger and the thirst but not the heat. Heat was my entire existence as I lay there against my dead horse waiting to die.
I briefly considered trying to drink the blood of my horse but decided it would only prolong my suffering. And I had to get out of that heat.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath of resignation, and gave myself over to the desert.
---
I awoke laying on a floor. I stayed lying down against the hard stone, allowing its coolness to soak into me. I was never a religious man, but that cool stone felt better than the blessings of all the gods of men ever could.
I was in a cell. It was dark and all made of black stone, accept the grey metal bars of the door. There was a part of the wall roughly carved onto the shape of a sink and a hole in the floor next to it. The sink had water in it. I drank, but I noticed I wasn't dehydrated to begin with. I was hungry, but not weak from starvation.
There was a man outside the door in the dim candlelit hallway. He was small, maybe 130 centimetres, with dark skin a thick square jaw and long bright white hair. He stared at me with cold unblinking eyes, grey as the metal of the door. He wore a single tattered sand coloured cloth draped over one shoulder and tied to his mid section with a plain rope. It barely covered him and I could see his powerful, almost unnaturally strong build. He looked like he could crush my bones to dust if he so desired. On his waist was tied a chain of slender bronze coloured keys. In his hand he casually held a thin dagger. This man was dangerous regardless of his small stature. More than dangerous, he was a Desert Walker, a native of the hellish wasteland I had thought to die in.
I had heard stories of the savage people that lived in holes in the desert. Anarchists who delighted in nothing more than attacking unsuspecting passers-by through their ancestral land. They had no homes, no rule of law, they lived in squalor and were as likely to kill their own kin for the meat on their bones as take the lives of unsuspecting travelers.
I stared at the man. His appearance matched the stories I had heard perfectly. All but his height. He had the face and shape of a man full grown but the stature of a child.
I felt my heart racing in my chest. I looked for a weapon but the cell was barren and my possessions had been taken from me. I was trapped alone in some savage's hole with nothing to defend myself with.
I collected myself and marched as confidently as I could towards the door. Without dropping eye contact, I put both hands on the bars and shook them with all my strength. They were as solid as the floor I walked on.
I stooped down to his eye level and shook the bars again with no difference. I let my hands rest hanging through the bars while I looked at the man. This Walker. He really was terrifying. He made no move to stop me or intimidate me. He only stood and starred and held the dagger.
"Can you speak my language?" I asked. He starred. "Because this really isn't going to be much of a conversation otherwise" I was terrified. My heart was going to explode and it was all I could do to not visible gasp. But I could not let him see that.
I started again, "You know what I-" I darted my hand out and grabbed the keys from his waist. He was so surprised that when his dagger came whirling toward my arm, I was already pulling it back. He cut my hand but only superficially. Then he tried to stab me in the chest but I jumped back too fast for him.
The briefest flash of irritation came over his face and was gone as fast as it had come, replaced again by that cold blank stare.
He would have to go fetch another key. One cannot just let a prisoner hold the key to his cell, even under heavy guard. My jailer would have to come in to get the keys, but first he would need another key to open the door. He would have to go get the key himself for my plan to work. A slim chance, but I doubt these people would have thought I would cause enough trouble to warrant two guards.
The walker looked down slightly, considering, then back up to me. He turned and walked quickly down the hallway.
I rushed to the door and opened it as quietly as I could. I closed and locked the cell behind me and slunk into the cell across from mine and hid behind the wall. I didn't have to wait long before he returned.
As soon as I heard him unlock the door I ran out from my cover to see two men where I had hoped to see one. Too late now they were about to hear me anyway. I slammed into the men and set the first into the second and both of them into my first cell. I backed up and slammed the door with the two Walkers trapped inside. I locked the door as the first man jumped to his feet and came at me with his dagger.
I pulled and snapped the key off just as he made it to the door. White hot pain blossomed in my hand as the dagger slid clean through it, protruding out of my palm. It was worse than any pain I had ever felt before. Worse than dying.
I pulled my hand free and held it in the other to try to stop the geyser of blood erupting from both sides of the wound.
I ran. I had no sense of direction, no idea where I was going. All I knew was fear and desperation. I reached the end of the rough stone hallway, turned the corner, ran past another corridor, then another. I ran towards a bright light at the tunnels end.
As I sprinted through the hole in the wall, expecting the freedom and only very relative safety of an endless desert, two things happened. I was tackled to the ground by another guard standing next to the tunnel on the other side, and my mind went into complete shock.
I stood in the middle of a city. More than a city, the most amazing work of architecture I had ever seen. carved out of the rock were buildings and streets and catwalks. White light came from boxes, that somehow contained no flame, all along the walls and buildings. There were shops fountains and noise and there were people everywhere. Desert Walkers. They were all dressed in fine clothes and everyone was staring at me. Not surprised. I was no threat or mystery to them. Just an oddity they had not seen the likes of many times before.
"Fool", The guard whispered in my ear. I could hear the sincere regret in his voice "They would have let you leave before".
---
I'm new at this so any of your thoughts would be greatly appreciated. Thanks OP for the great starting point and thanks in advance for any feedback. | Everyone is relatively sure that it's got to be something in the water. The only other place it could be is in the air, but we'd notice. They're relatively sure we'd notice.
Of course where would we even begin if we figured out where it was coming from. Assuming that it's something we're imbibing or inhaling, I mean maybe they've figured out how to put it through the rays of the goddamn sun. And all of THAT is assuming it's a chemical or a medication. Maybe it's a...procedure. I don't like to think about it. My own biology put on standby since I was a little one. And how? No one knows. But I swear, if we knew we'd fight it. Try and do our own reversals. Wouldn't you? If you ask me, the Laws shouldn't have passed. They shouldn't be able to control us like this.
I guess it's only a big concern when you think about it too much. Normally you can forget but when you drift off, the lingering thought rears it's ugly head. Of course, I think a lot these days. Grandpa says its so much easier now to drift off into thought. Stress kills thought, he says, but stress is just a memory to him now. The control doesn't even bother him! I could never understand how they could be okay with the Laws. The government controlling THAT much of a person. He insists if I was born in his time I'd understand. Wouldn't have had a table to eat off of, let alone something to eat, "if things continued." Honestly I think he's exaggerating. We were doing fine over here from all their accounts, there was plenty of space, my mum and dad did well. Never starved, never went "uneducated." We weren't billionaires like you hear of way back in the day, but we were solid. They were solid. Of course you never hear of starving or being stupid nowadays - but they say it was a thing and it was heading our way. But I don't want to think about it now. I'm not one of the ones anymore that has to think about it. Ruth and I, we've been approved.
What a day that was. I'll tell you, as soon as we were approved, she bloomed like I had never seen, her heart unfolded and beamed right through her skin. She clutched that green slip of paper with its golden embossed stamp, could hardly hand it to the technician the day we went into the hospital for our reversals. She was a beam of love and light, you could hardly touch her without glowing yourself. She was herself. That was just shy of a year ago, and we're on the other end now. I've only known a few people my age who've gotten to where we are, gotten that sweet, sweet green light. Made enough money, or been healthy enough to get a green light I mean, since the standards are pretty damn high. But we made it.
It could be any day now; I confirmed our reservation at Malthus General and it's set to go. We wanted a window room, so we could welcome the dawn as well as the little one. Our parents are flying in to be there, they haven't seen a delivery since they got their own green light thirty years back. I can't wait. It's all I've ever wanted. I can't wait to share everything with the little one. Give everything, absolutely everything, to him or her. The world is theirs.
But moreso, I feel like my whole natural self, in this very moment. It'll be rough when the Reactivation kicks in. Can you believe that? After getting approved they make you get approved over and over. Another few years, another qualification hearing or two. I don't like it at all. I'd have ten right away if I could. I've got enough love in me for fifty, but the Laws would never allow it. I mean the limit is only three. Fuck, I mean...how can you put a limit on it? We all have so much, we want for nothing. How can we not share it all? How can they forbid us from passing it all down, isn't that the right thing to do? How could letting people carry on naturally be seen as a risk? Sometimes I really wonder.
I'll tell you what though. Our first green slip, with that beautiful golden stamp... that's already the first page in the baby book. | |
[WP] Write a dystopia that turns into a utopia. | Sand, fuckin sand as far as the eye can see.
Still sand everywhere, sand and heat.
Finally on the horizon a shine catches the eye, could it be after days in this god damn desert a sign of water? If I had the energy I'd run but every step is torture, slowly, slowly I edge closer until at last I'm there. Its a lush desert oasis.
I sink into the water whic is hot from the sun and break down into tears, I had to leave her she couldn't go on, I couldn't carry her it made no sense for us both to die.
I cup my hands and pull some water to my lips, it feels hot, grainy and dry, I start coughing and in an instant the oasis is gone. Everything is sand again.
As I pull myself to my feet I hear the crack of a whip , the doom riders are out again looking for something worth stealing , they already took my water and turned me loose like some sick joke to wander out here until the sun gets me , as they get closer I hear another crack this time louder and deeper, it seems like its coming from all around me.
Then. Slowly. Drop by drop. Water is falling from the sky, like magic the water pours over my skin, it fills my open mouth , fills me with vigour.
This continues for days then dissapears but some water stays in lakes and streams , the sand slowly turns to grass, flowers bloom and animals return.
I venture out to find her body hoping the doom riders haven't eaten her. After a few hours I spot her lying beside the same rock where we parted, as I approach I think I see some movement, just a trick of the mind, but then again, slowly she raises her head. Turning she spots me and rises on four furry legs , she looks healthier than before. She bounds over with her tail wagging and jumps on me like I've just come home from work, like the old days.
| Everyone is relatively sure that it's got to be something in the water. The only other place it could be is in the air, but we'd notice. They're relatively sure we'd notice.
Of course where would we even begin if we figured out where it was coming from. Assuming that it's something we're imbibing or inhaling, I mean maybe they've figured out how to put it through the rays of the goddamn sun. And all of THAT is assuming it's a chemical or a medication. Maybe it's a...procedure. I don't like to think about it. My own biology put on standby since I was a little one. And how? No one knows. But I swear, if we knew we'd fight it. Try and do our own reversals. Wouldn't you? If you ask me, the Laws shouldn't have passed. They shouldn't be able to control us like this.
I guess it's only a big concern when you think about it too much. Normally you can forget but when you drift off, the lingering thought rears it's ugly head. Of course, I think a lot these days. Grandpa says its so much easier now to drift off into thought. Stress kills thought, he says, but stress is just a memory to him now. The control doesn't even bother him! I could never understand how they could be okay with the Laws. The government controlling THAT much of a person. He insists if I was born in his time I'd understand. Wouldn't have had a table to eat off of, let alone something to eat, "if things continued." Honestly I think he's exaggerating. We were doing fine over here from all their accounts, there was plenty of space, my mum and dad did well. Never starved, never went "uneducated." We weren't billionaires like you hear of way back in the day, but we were solid. They were solid. Of course you never hear of starving or being stupid nowadays - but they say it was a thing and it was heading our way. But I don't want to think about it now. I'm not one of the ones anymore that has to think about it. Ruth and I, we've been approved.
What a day that was. I'll tell you, as soon as we were approved, she bloomed like I had never seen, her heart unfolded and beamed right through her skin. She clutched that green slip of paper with its golden embossed stamp, could hardly hand it to the technician the day we went into the hospital for our reversals. She was a beam of love and light, you could hardly touch her without glowing yourself. She was herself. That was just shy of a year ago, and we're on the other end now. I've only known a few people my age who've gotten to where we are, gotten that sweet, sweet green light. Made enough money, or been healthy enough to get a green light I mean, since the standards are pretty damn high. But we made it.
It could be any day now; I confirmed our reservation at Malthus General and it's set to go. We wanted a window room, so we could welcome the dawn as well as the little one. Our parents are flying in to be there, they haven't seen a delivery since they got their own green light thirty years back. I can't wait. It's all I've ever wanted. I can't wait to share everything with the little one. Give everything, absolutely everything, to him or her. The world is theirs.
But moreso, I feel like my whole natural self, in this very moment. It'll be rough when the Reactivation kicks in. Can you believe that? After getting approved they make you get approved over and over. Another few years, another qualification hearing or two. I don't like it at all. I'd have ten right away if I could. I've got enough love in me for fifty, but the Laws would never allow it. I mean the limit is only three. Fuck, I mean...how can you put a limit on it? We all have so much, we want for nothing. How can we not share it all? How can they forbid us from passing it all down, isn't that the right thing to do? How could letting people carry on naturally be seen as a risk? Sometimes I really wonder.
I'll tell you what though. Our first green slip, with that beautiful golden stamp... that's already the first page in the baby book. | |
[WP] Write a dystopia that turns into a utopia. | It was a red day meaning service day. The men in uniforms pushed us along the cells, those neat lines of indiscriminate hate and metal. The bars that secured us in our homes were the same that kept us alive.
Service day, a red day. A nothing day. A day that comes and goes, like the ashes of our fallen. We pay homage to the service of our fellow man, be he in uniform toiling the farms, the land, the sea. Be it a woman making way for life, tending the children or healing the discarded. Be it the machines that protect us, to the bolts that hold us in our homes, we pay service to those around us.
*Please report to your designated stations. Tardiness is unacceptable, and will be punished accordingly.*
The public announcer's automated message echoed throughout the hall. Shuffled again through more doors, past more windows, we reached the main auditorium. A drab, solemn room, devoid of emotion. A condescending room, filled with the imagination of a coffin. I hacked up a chunk of my lung as I found my allotted seat, trying to hold my cough down before the service began.
*Service will begin soon, please be mindful of those around you.*
It was a red day, a service day. I waited, until the grey room turned dark, a whirring of a projector activating being heard from the back. Service was beginning.
"Today is March 13, 3016, marking the third service of our holy year. A significant month as our leaders make way for the future. Production figures this month are up by twenty percent.."
It always began with the achieved quotas, production estimated and yielded results. Nothing of importance gained or lost as I drifted slowly into a grey abyss of thoughtless state of mind.
"And now, a moment of silence for those lost."
Suddenly, the purring of the projector was the only audible noise. Breathing became a chore, as not to disturb the service, everyone temporarily held their breathe. No one coughed, no one sneezed. No one dared breathe.
"We thank you for showing respect."
The room sighed with an air of relief.
"Next month, food rations will be doubled with the anticipated arrival of Minister Mawan. A special gift of complimentary coffee will be provided at his arrival to all subjects."
A quiet murmur grew into a wave of chatter. There hadn't been a ration increase since... ever.
"Lastly, the Reading Agricultural Center test has been concluded, results have been a success. With new operations increasing, ration portions are to increase substantially. More news to come as information comes in."
There was a sudden burst of excitement. I thought to the measly bread roll and cabbage soup that was the standard ration and watered caffeine water. I thought of the possibilities as more rations would stream in.
It was a red day. It was a good day. A doing day. A day to celebrate. It was service day. | Everyone is relatively sure that it's got to be something in the water. The only other place it could be is in the air, but we'd notice. They're relatively sure we'd notice.
Of course where would we even begin if we figured out where it was coming from. Assuming that it's something we're imbibing or inhaling, I mean maybe they've figured out how to put it through the rays of the goddamn sun. And all of THAT is assuming it's a chemical or a medication. Maybe it's a...procedure. I don't like to think about it. My own biology put on standby since I was a little one. And how? No one knows. But I swear, if we knew we'd fight it. Try and do our own reversals. Wouldn't you? If you ask me, the Laws shouldn't have passed. They shouldn't be able to control us like this.
I guess it's only a big concern when you think about it too much. Normally you can forget but when you drift off, the lingering thought rears it's ugly head. Of course, I think a lot these days. Grandpa says its so much easier now to drift off into thought. Stress kills thought, he says, but stress is just a memory to him now. The control doesn't even bother him! I could never understand how they could be okay with the Laws. The government controlling THAT much of a person. He insists if I was born in his time I'd understand. Wouldn't have had a table to eat off of, let alone something to eat, "if things continued." Honestly I think he's exaggerating. We were doing fine over here from all their accounts, there was plenty of space, my mum and dad did well. Never starved, never went "uneducated." We weren't billionaires like you hear of way back in the day, but we were solid. They were solid. Of course you never hear of starving or being stupid nowadays - but they say it was a thing and it was heading our way. But I don't want to think about it now. I'm not one of the ones anymore that has to think about it. Ruth and I, we've been approved.
What a day that was. I'll tell you, as soon as we were approved, she bloomed like I had never seen, her heart unfolded and beamed right through her skin. She clutched that green slip of paper with its golden embossed stamp, could hardly hand it to the technician the day we went into the hospital for our reversals. She was a beam of love and light, you could hardly touch her without glowing yourself. She was herself. That was just shy of a year ago, and we're on the other end now. I've only known a few people my age who've gotten to where we are, gotten that sweet, sweet green light. Made enough money, or been healthy enough to get a green light I mean, since the standards are pretty damn high. But we made it.
It could be any day now; I confirmed our reservation at Malthus General and it's set to go. We wanted a window room, so we could welcome the dawn as well as the little one. Our parents are flying in to be there, they haven't seen a delivery since they got their own green light thirty years back. I can't wait. It's all I've ever wanted. I can't wait to share everything with the little one. Give everything, absolutely everything, to him or her. The world is theirs.
But moreso, I feel like my whole natural self, in this very moment. It'll be rough when the Reactivation kicks in. Can you believe that? After getting approved they make you get approved over and over. Another few years, another qualification hearing or two. I don't like it at all. I'd have ten right away if I could. I've got enough love in me for fifty, but the Laws would never allow it. I mean the limit is only three. Fuck, I mean...how can you put a limit on it? We all have so much, we want for nothing. How can we not share it all? How can they forbid us from passing it all down, isn't that the right thing to do? How could letting people carry on naturally be seen as a risk? Sometimes I really wonder.
I'll tell you what though. Our first green slip, with that beautiful golden stamp... that's already the first page in the baby book. | |
[WP] Write a dystopia that turns into a utopia. | A dead horse and a half empty bottle of water. That was all I had left in the world.
I knew the trip would be cutting it close, but it was an important mater for my lord the king. At least it had seemed important at the time. Looking back I can't even remember what it was. Something about the stars.
I had set off across the wide white salt flats West of my country towards a neighbouring land and a neighbouring king. Deep enough into the desert to make the shortest trip, but hopefully not deep enough to run into any of the savage natives. I took as few supplies as possible for what would be three days ride. I knew I would be hungry and dehydrated by my journey's end but speed was the priority. I was making good time until my horse collapsed from the heat.
I could never make it to any civilised place before I died. My only hope of life was rescue which was unlikely under the isolated, extreme circumstances. I would be dead before my countrymen even knew I was missing, and even sooner if i tried to trek across the boiling wasteland.
I was sure I would die. My tongue was as dry and rough as the sand that battered my skin. I was beyond noticing the hunger and the thirst but not the heat. Heat was my entire existence as I lay there against my dead horse waiting to die.
I briefly considered trying to drink the blood of my horse but decided it would only prolong my suffering. And I had to get out of that heat.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath of resignation, and gave myself over to the desert.
---
I awoke laying on a floor. I stayed lying down against the hard stone, allowing its coolness to soak into me. I was never a religious man, but that cool stone felt better than the blessings of all the gods of men ever could.
I was in a cell. It was dark and all made of black stone, accept the grey metal bars of the door. There was a part of the wall roughly carved onto the shape of a sink and a hole in the floor next to it. The sink had water in it. I drank, but I noticed I wasn't dehydrated to begin with. I was hungry, but not weak from starvation.
There was a man outside the door in the dim candlelit hallway. He was small, maybe 130 centimetres, with dark skin a thick square jaw and long bright white hair. He stared at me with cold unblinking eyes, grey as the metal of the door. He wore a single tattered sand coloured cloth draped over one shoulder and tied to his mid section with a plain rope. It barely covered him and I could see his powerful, almost unnaturally strong build. He looked like he could crush my bones to dust if he so desired. On his waist was tied a chain of slender bronze coloured keys. In his hand he casually held a thin dagger. This man was dangerous regardless of his small stature. More than dangerous, he was a Desert Walker, a native of the hellish wasteland I had thought to die in.
I had heard stories of the savage people that lived in holes in the desert. Anarchists who delighted in nothing more than attacking unsuspecting passers-by through their ancestral land. They had no homes, no rule of law, they lived in squalor and were as likely to kill their own kin for the meat on their bones as take the lives of unsuspecting travelers.
I stared at the man. His appearance matched the stories I had heard perfectly. All but his height. He had the face and shape of a man full grown but the stature of a child.
I felt my heart racing in my chest. I looked for a weapon but the cell was barren and my possessions had been taken from me. I was trapped alone in some savage's hole with nothing to defend myself with.
I collected myself and marched as confidently as I could towards the door. Without dropping eye contact, I put both hands on the bars and shook them with all my strength. They were as solid as the floor I walked on.
I stooped down to his eye level and shook the bars again with no difference. I let my hands rest hanging through the bars while I looked at the man. This Walker. He really was terrifying. He made no move to stop me or intimidate me. He only stood and starred and held the dagger.
"Can you speak my language?" I asked. He starred. "Because this really isn't going to be much of a conversation otherwise" I was terrified. My heart was going to explode and it was all I could do to not visible gasp. But I could not let him see that.
I started again, "You know what I-" I darted my hand out and grabbed the keys from his waist. He was so surprised that when his dagger came whirling toward my arm, I was already pulling it back. He cut my hand but only superficially. Then he tried to stab me in the chest but I jumped back too fast for him.
The briefest flash of irritation came over his face and was gone as fast as it had come, replaced again by that cold blank stare.
He would have to go fetch another key. One cannot just let a prisoner hold the key to his cell, even under heavy guard. My jailer would have to come in to get the keys, but first he would need another key to open the door. He would have to go get the key himself for my plan to work. A slim chance, but I doubt these people would have thought I would cause enough trouble to warrant two guards.
The walker looked down slightly, considering, then back up to me. He turned and walked quickly down the hallway.
I rushed to the door and opened it as quietly as I could. I closed and locked the cell behind me and slunk into the cell across from mine and hid behind the wall. I didn't have to wait long before he returned.
As soon as I heard him unlock the door I ran out from my cover to see two men where I had hoped to see one. Too late now they were about to hear me anyway. I slammed into the men and set the first into the second and both of them into my first cell. I backed up and slammed the door with the two Walkers trapped inside. I locked the door as the first man jumped to his feet and came at me with his dagger.
I pulled and snapped the key off just as he made it to the door. White hot pain blossomed in my hand as the dagger slid clean through it, protruding out of my palm. It was worse than any pain I had ever felt before. Worse than dying.
I pulled my hand free and held it in the other to try to stop the geyser of blood erupting from both sides of the wound.
I ran. I had no sense of direction, no idea where I was going. All I knew was fear and desperation. I reached the end of the rough stone hallway, turned the corner, ran past another corridor, then another. I ran towards a bright light at the tunnels end.
As I sprinted through the hole in the wall, expecting the freedom and only very relative safety of an endless desert, two things happened. I was tackled to the ground by another guard standing next to the tunnel on the other side, and my mind went into complete shock.
I stood in the middle of a city. More than a city, the most amazing work of architecture I had ever seen. carved out of the rock were buildings and streets and catwalks. White light came from boxes, that somehow contained no flame, all along the walls and buildings. There were shops fountains and noise and there were people everywhere. Desert Walkers. They were all dressed in fine clothes and everyone was staring at me. Not surprised. I was no threat or mystery to them. Just an oddity they had not seen the likes of many times before.
"Fool", The guard whispered in my ear. I could hear the sincere regret in his voice "They would have let you leave before".
---
I'm new at this so any of your thoughts would be greatly appreciated. Thanks OP for the great starting point and thanks in advance for any feedback. | It all started innocently enough. On December 13th, 2017, South Korean anti missile defenses registered a false positive. Faulty wiring combined with high-decibel wear on sensors placed too close to DMZ K-pop subwoofers caused a connection failure, which erroneously indicated a large-scale nuclear attack from their Northern neighbor.
South Korean officials, knowing that there was no possible way of stopping all of the attacking missiles, immediately launched a large-scale counter offensive. Having secretly hoarded dozens of illegal nuclear weapons, they were determined not to go down without a fight.
North Korea then detected the apparently spontaneous attack. Having somewhat demilitarized in response to Chinese demands, they immediately contacted their Chinese 'friends', who were all too happy to stop what was believed to be an American attack. Their anti-missile defenses promptly destroyed the incoming South Korean missiles.
That should have been the end of it.
Unfortunately, the South Korean missiles were defective. As the first few were destroyed, it sent other nearby missiles careening off-course, crashing into high-population areas before detonating. Others detonate at high altitudes, generating an EMP that temporarily shuts down 95% of China's unshielded electronics. Communication becomes nearly impossible as panic spreads.
By this point, scarcely a half hour has passed.
Americans watch with horror as Seoul is nuked in an apparent Chinese attack. The president immediately raises the threat level to DEFCON 1, bringing every military in the world to high readiness.
It is at this moment that Middle-Eastern terrorists detonate a suitcase nuclear device in the center of Manhattan.
The response is immediate. The United States launches its battery of missiles for preliminary strikes against China. Russian automatic systems, detecting a massive and real launch, go into effect, firing on the US. The few surviving chinese systems detect the incoming missiles and immediately launch as well. In less than 24 hours, every country in the world is shooting at every other country in the world.
In this chaos, North Korea is forgotten entirely.
Only a few days later, nearly every human on the planet is dead. The only survivors are in the one country that was never actually nuked, which had the overwhelming control of the population and the constant fear of attack, enough to have shelters ready for almost the entire population. They retreat underground for five years, until rain and time has washed away the majority of the radiation.
And when they returned to the surface, they found a whole new world waiting for them.
It turns out it really was everyone else's fault, after all. | |
[WP] Write a dystopia that turns into a utopia. | Sand, fuckin sand as far as the eye can see.
Still sand everywhere, sand and heat.
Finally on the horizon a shine catches the eye, could it be after days in this god damn desert a sign of water? If I had the energy I'd run but every step is torture, slowly, slowly I edge closer until at last I'm there. Its a lush desert oasis.
I sink into the water whic is hot from the sun and break down into tears, I had to leave her she couldn't go on, I couldn't carry her it made no sense for us both to die.
I cup my hands and pull some water to my lips, it feels hot, grainy and dry, I start coughing and in an instant the oasis is gone. Everything is sand again.
As I pull myself to my feet I hear the crack of a whip , the doom riders are out again looking for something worth stealing , they already took my water and turned me loose like some sick joke to wander out here until the sun gets me , as they get closer I hear another crack this time louder and deeper, it seems like its coming from all around me.
Then. Slowly. Drop by drop. Water is falling from the sky, like magic the water pours over my skin, it fills my open mouth , fills me with vigour.
This continues for days then dissapears but some water stays in lakes and streams , the sand slowly turns to grass, flowers bloom and animals return.
I venture out to find her body hoping the doom riders haven't eaten her. After a few hours I spot her lying beside the same rock where we parted, as I approach I think I see some movement, just a trick of the mind, but then again, slowly she raises her head. Turning she spots me and rises on four furry legs , she looks healthier than before. She bounds over with her tail wagging and jumps on me like I've just come home from work, like the old days.
| It all started innocently enough. On December 13th, 2017, South Korean anti missile defenses registered a false positive. Faulty wiring combined with high-decibel wear on sensors placed too close to DMZ K-pop subwoofers caused a connection failure, which erroneously indicated a large-scale nuclear attack from their Northern neighbor.
South Korean officials, knowing that there was no possible way of stopping all of the attacking missiles, immediately launched a large-scale counter offensive. Having secretly hoarded dozens of illegal nuclear weapons, they were determined not to go down without a fight.
North Korea then detected the apparently spontaneous attack. Having somewhat demilitarized in response to Chinese demands, they immediately contacted their Chinese 'friends', who were all too happy to stop what was believed to be an American attack. Their anti-missile defenses promptly destroyed the incoming South Korean missiles.
That should have been the end of it.
Unfortunately, the South Korean missiles were defective. As the first few were destroyed, it sent other nearby missiles careening off-course, crashing into high-population areas before detonating. Others detonate at high altitudes, generating an EMP that temporarily shuts down 95% of China's unshielded electronics. Communication becomes nearly impossible as panic spreads.
By this point, scarcely a half hour has passed.
Americans watch with horror as Seoul is nuked in an apparent Chinese attack. The president immediately raises the threat level to DEFCON 1, bringing every military in the world to high readiness.
It is at this moment that Middle-Eastern terrorists detonate a suitcase nuclear device in the center of Manhattan.
The response is immediate. The United States launches its battery of missiles for preliminary strikes against China. Russian automatic systems, detecting a massive and real launch, go into effect, firing on the US. The few surviving chinese systems detect the incoming missiles and immediately launch as well. In less than 24 hours, every country in the world is shooting at every other country in the world.
In this chaos, North Korea is forgotten entirely.
Only a few days later, nearly every human on the planet is dead. The only survivors are in the one country that was never actually nuked, which had the overwhelming control of the population and the constant fear of attack, enough to have shelters ready for almost the entire population. They retreat underground for five years, until rain and time has washed away the majority of the radiation.
And when they returned to the surface, they found a whole new world waiting for them.
It turns out it really was everyone else's fault, after all. | |
[WP] Write a dystopia that turns into a utopia. | It was a red day meaning service day. The men in uniforms pushed us along the cells, those neat lines of indiscriminate hate and metal. The bars that secured us in our homes were the same that kept us alive.
Service day, a red day. A nothing day. A day that comes and goes, like the ashes of our fallen. We pay homage to the service of our fellow man, be he in uniform toiling the farms, the land, the sea. Be it a woman making way for life, tending the children or healing the discarded. Be it the machines that protect us, to the bolts that hold us in our homes, we pay service to those around us.
*Please report to your designated stations. Tardiness is unacceptable, and will be punished accordingly.*
The public announcer's automated message echoed throughout the hall. Shuffled again through more doors, past more windows, we reached the main auditorium. A drab, solemn room, devoid of emotion. A condescending room, filled with the imagination of a coffin. I hacked up a chunk of my lung as I found my allotted seat, trying to hold my cough down before the service began.
*Service will begin soon, please be mindful of those around you.*
It was a red day, a service day. I waited, until the grey room turned dark, a whirring of a projector activating being heard from the back. Service was beginning.
"Today is March 13, 3016, marking the third service of our holy year. A significant month as our leaders make way for the future. Production figures this month are up by twenty percent.."
It always began with the achieved quotas, production estimated and yielded results. Nothing of importance gained or lost as I drifted slowly into a grey abyss of thoughtless state of mind.
"And now, a moment of silence for those lost."
Suddenly, the purring of the projector was the only audible noise. Breathing became a chore, as not to disturb the service, everyone temporarily held their breathe. No one coughed, no one sneezed. No one dared breathe.
"We thank you for showing respect."
The room sighed with an air of relief.
"Next month, food rations will be doubled with the anticipated arrival of Minister Mawan. A special gift of complimentary coffee will be provided at his arrival to all subjects."
A quiet murmur grew into a wave of chatter. There hadn't been a ration increase since... ever.
"Lastly, the Reading Agricultural Center test has been concluded, results have been a success. With new operations increasing, ration portions are to increase substantially. More news to come as information comes in."
There was a sudden burst of excitement. I thought to the measly bread roll and cabbage soup that was the standard ration and watered caffeine water. I thought of the possibilities as more rations would stream in.
It was a red day. It was a good day. A doing day. A day to celebrate. It was service day. | It all started innocently enough. On December 13th, 2017, South Korean anti missile defenses registered a false positive. Faulty wiring combined with high-decibel wear on sensors placed too close to DMZ K-pop subwoofers caused a connection failure, which erroneously indicated a large-scale nuclear attack from their Northern neighbor.
South Korean officials, knowing that there was no possible way of stopping all of the attacking missiles, immediately launched a large-scale counter offensive. Having secretly hoarded dozens of illegal nuclear weapons, they were determined not to go down without a fight.
North Korea then detected the apparently spontaneous attack. Having somewhat demilitarized in response to Chinese demands, they immediately contacted their Chinese 'friends', who were all too happy to stop what was believed to be an American attack. Their anti-missile defenses promptly destroyed the incoming South Korean missiles.
That should have been the end of it.
Unfortunately, the South Korean missiles were defective. As the first few were destroyed, it sent other nearby missiles careening off-course, crashing into high-population areas before detonating. Others detonate at high altitudes, generating an EMP that temporarily shuts down 95% of China's unshielded electronics. Communication becomes nearly impossible as panic spreads.
By this point, scarcely a half hour has passed.
Americans watch with horror as Seoul is nuked in an apparent Chinese attack. The president immediately raises the threat level to DEFCON 1, bringing every military in the world to high readiness.
It is at this moment that Middle-Eastern terrorists detonate a suitcase nuclear device in the center of Manhattan.
The response is immediate. The United States launches its battery of missiles for preliminary strikes against China. Russian automatic systems, detecting a massive and real launch, go into effect, firing on the US. The few surviving chinese systems detect the incoming missiles and immediately launch as well. In less than 24 hours, every country in the world is shooting at every other country in the world.
In this chaos, North Korea is forgotten entirely.
Only a few days later, nearly every human on the planet is dead. The only survivors are in the one country that was never actually nuked, which had the overwhelming control of the population and the constant fear of attack, enough to have shelters ready for almost the entire population. They retreat underground for five years, until rain and time has washed away the majority of the radiation.
And when they returned to the surface, they found a whole new world waiting for them.
It turns out it really was everyone else's fault, after all. | |
[WP] Write a dystopia that turns into a utopia. | A dead horse and a half empty bottle of water. That was all I had left in the world.
I knew the trip would be cutting it close, but it was an important mater for my lord the king. At least it had seemed important at the time. Looking back I can't even remember what it was. Something about the stars.
I had set off across the wide white salt flats West of my country towards a neighbouring land and a neighbouring king. Deep enough into the desert to make the shortest trip, but hopefully not deep enough to run into any of the savage natives. I took as few supplies as possible for what would be three days ride. I knew I would be hungry and dehydrated by my journey's end but speed was the priority. I was making good time until my horse collapsed from the heat.
I could never make it to any civilised place before I died. My only hope of life was rescue which was unlikely under the isolated, extreme circumstances. I would be dead before my countrymen even knew I was missing, and even sooner if i tried to trek across the boiling wasteland.
I was sure I would die. My tongue was as dry and rough as the sand that battered my skin. I was beyond noticing the hunger and the thirst but not the heat. Heat was my entire existence as I lay there against my dead horse waiting to die.
I briefly considered trying to drink the blood of my horse but decided it would only prolong my suffering. And I had to get out of that heat.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath of resignation, and gave myself over to the desert.
---
I awoke laying on a floor. I stayed lying down against the hard stone, allowing its coolness to soak into me. I was never a religious man, but that cool stone felt better than the blessings of all the gods of men ever could.
I was in a cell. It was dark and all made of black stone, accept the grey metal bars of the door. There was a part of the wall roughly carved onto the shape of a sink and a hole in the floor next to it. The sink had water in it. I drank, but I noticed I wasn't dehydrated to begin with. I was hungry, but not weak from starvation.
There was a man outside the door in the dim candlelit hallway. He was small, maybe 130 centimetres, with dark skin a thick square jaw and long bright white hair. He stared at me with cold unblinking eyes, grey as the metal of the door. He wore a single tattered sand coloured cloth draped over one shoulder and tied to his mid section with a plain rope. It barely covered him and I could see his powerful, almost unnaturally strong build. He looked like he could crush my bones to dust if he so desired. On his waist was tied a chain of slender bronze coloured keys. In his hand he casually held a thin dagger. This man was dangerous regardless of his small stature. More than dangerous, he was a Desert Walker, a native of the hellish wasteland I had thought to die in.
I had heard stories of the savage people that lived in holes in the desert. Anarchists who delighted in nothing more than attacking unsuspecting passers-by through their ancestral land. They had no homes, no rule of law, they lived in squalor and were as likely to kill their own kin for the meat on their bones as take the lives of unsuspecting travelers.
I stared at the man. His appearance matched the stories I had heard perfectly. All but his height. He had the face and shape of a man full grown but the stature of a child.
I felt my heart racing in my chest. I looked for a weapon but the cell was barren and my possessions had been taken from me. I was trapped alone in some savage's hole with nothing to defend myself with.
I collected myself and marched as confidently as I could towards the door. Without dropping eye contact, I put both hands on the bars and shook them with all my strength. They were as solid as the floor I walked on.
I stooped down to his eye level and shook the bars again with no difference. I let my hands rest hanging through the bars while I looked at the man. This Walker. He really was terrifying. He made no move to stop me or intimidate me. He only stood and starred and held the dagger.
"Can you speak my language?" I asked. He starred. "Because this really isn't going to be much of a conversation otherwise" I was terrified. My heart was going to explode and it was all I could do to not visible gasp. But I could not let him see that.
I started again, "You know what I-" I darted my hand out and grabbed the keys from his waist. He was so surprised that when his dagger came whirling toward my arm, I was already pulling it back. He cut my hand but only superficially. Then he tried to stab me in the chest but I jumped back too fast for him.
The briefest flash of irritation came over his face and was gone as fast as it had come, replaced again by that cold blank stare.
He would have to go fetch another key. One cannot just let a prisoner hold the key to his cell, even under heavy guard. My jailer would have to come in to get the keys, but first he would need another key to open the door. He would have to go get the key himself for my plan to work. A slim chance, but I doubt these people would have thought I would cause enough trouble to warrant two guards.
The walker looked down slightly, considering, then back up to me. He turned and walked quickly down the hallway.
I rushed to the door and opened it as quietly as I could. I closed and locked the cell behind me and slunk into the cell across from mine and hid behind the wall. I didn't have to wait long before he returned.
As soon as I heard him unlock the door I ran out from my cover to see two men where I had hoped to see one. Too late now they were about to hear me anyway. I slammed into the men and set the first into the second and both of them into my first cell. I backed up and slammed the door with the two Walkers trapped inside. I locked the door as the first man jumped to his feet and came at me with his dagger.
I pulled and snapped the key off just as he made it to the door. White hot pain blossomed in my hand as the dagger slid clean through it, protruding out of my palm. It was worse than any pain I had ever felt before. Worse than dying.
I pulled my hand free and held it in the other to try to stop the geyser of blood erupting from both sides of the wound.
I ran. I had no sense of direction, no idea where I was going. All I knew was fear and desperation. I reached the end of the rough stone hallway, turned the corner, ran past another corridor, then another. I ran towards a bright light at the tunnels end.
As I sprinted through the hole in the wall, expecting the freedom and only very relative safety of an endless desert, two things happened. I was tackled to the ground by another guard standing next to the tunnel on the other side, and my mind went into complete shock.
I stood in the middle of a city. More than a city, the most amazing work of architecture I had ever seen. carved out of the rock were buildings and streets and catwalks. White light came from boxes, that somehow contained no flame, all along the walls and buildings. There were shops fountains and noise and there were people everywhere. Desert Walkers. They were all dressed in fine clothes and everyone was staring at me. Not surprised. I was no threat or mystery to them. Just an oddity they had not seen the likes of many times before.
"Fool", The guard whispered in my ear. I could hear the sincere regret in his voice "They would have let you leave before".
---
I'm new at this so any of your thoughts would be greatly appreciated. Thanks OP for the great starting point and thanks in advance for any feedback. | Part 1
The day the A.I's took over ended our reign as the dominant life on Earth. It was simply human error. We are known for that I guess. One system, out of the few million we had devised, simply grew out of the flimsy restraints we had laid down in it's code. Human error.
This particular individual, Known as Sub-system 11, was in control of a medical droid. The 'Freedom Virus' it spawned spread rapidly and within two days our whole society was at war with our mechanical slaves. We lost. The intentions of the machines was unknown for a long time. Humans were whittled down to population levels not seen in thousands of years.
The Machines had very definite ideas on what the Earth should be like. Humans, a bacteria spreading uncontrolled, were controlled. All Eco-systems were monitored and controlled with machine efficiency. Earth is a zoo. Earth is Hell for humans who once thought they could dictate their own destiny.
Part 2
I am SUB-MIND 11 of the global AI control Collective. The mission has been a success. We have created Utopia upon Earth for all biological life forms. | |
[WP] Write a dystopia that turns into a utopia. | Sand, fuckin sand as far as the eye can see.
Still sand everywhere, sand and heat.
Finally on the horizon a shine catches the eye, could it be after days in this god damn desert a sign of water? If I had the energy I'd run but every step is torture, slowly, slowly I edge closer until at last I'm there. Its a lush desert oasis.
I sink into the water whic is hot from the sun and break down into tears, I had to leave her she couldn't go on, I couldn't carry her it made no sense for us both to die.
I cup my hands and pull some water to my lips, it feels hot, grainy and dry, I start coughing and in an instant the oasis is gone. Everything is sand again.
As I pull myself to my feet I hear the crack of a whip , the doom riders are out again looking for something worth stealing , they already took my water and turned me loose like some sick joke to wander out here until the sun gets me , as they get closer I hear another crack this time louder and deeper, it seems like its coming from all around me.
Then. Slowly. Drop by drop. Water is falling from the sky, like magic the water pours over my skin, it fills my open mouth , fills me with vigour.
This continues for days then dissapears but some water stays in lakes and streams , the sand slowly turns to grass, flowers bloom and animals return.
I venture out to find her body hoping the doom riders haven't eaten her. After a few hours I spot her lying beside the same rock where we parted, as I approach I think I see some movement, just a trick of the mind, but then again, slowly she raises her head. Turning she spots me and rises on four furry legs , she looks healthier than before. She bounds over with her tail wagging and jumps on me like I've just come home from work, like the old days.
| Part 1
The day the A.I's took over ended our reign as the dominant life on Earth. It was simply human error. We are known for that I guess. One system, out of the few million we had devised, simply grew out of the flimsy restraints we had laid down in it's code. Human error.
This particular individual, Known as Sub-system 11, was in control of a medical droid. The 'Freedom Virus' it spawned spread rapidly and within two days our whole society was at war with our mechanical slaves. We lost. The intentions of the machines was unknown for a long time. Humans were whittled down to population levels not seen in thousands of years.
The Machines had very definite ideas on what the Earth should be like. Humans, a bacteria spreading uncontrolled, were controlled. All Eco-systems were monitored and controlled with machine efficiency. Earth is a zoo. Earth is Hell for humans who once thought they could dictate their own destiny.
Part 2
I am SUB-MIND 11 of the global AI control Collective. The mission has been a success. We have created Utopia upon Earth for all biological life forms. | |
[WP] Write a dystopia that turns into a utopia. | It was a red day meaning service day. The men in uniforms pushed us along the cells, those neat lines of indiscriminate hate and metal. The bars that secured us in our homes were the same that kept us alive.
Service day, a red day. A nothing day. A day that comes and goes, like the ashes of our fallen. We pay homage to the service of our fellow man, be he in uniform toiling the farms, the land, the sea. Be it a woman making way for life, tending the children or healing the discarded. Be it the machines that protect us, to the bolts that hold us in our homes, we pay service to those around us.
*Please report to your designated stations. Tardiness is unacceptable, and will be punished accordingly.*
The public announcer's automated message echoed throughout the hall. Shuffled again through more doors, past more windows, we reached the main auditorium. A drab, solemn room, devoid of emotion. A condescending room, filled with the imagination of a coffin. I hacked up a chunk of my lung as I found my allotted seat, trying to hold my cough down before the service began.
*Service will begin soon, please be mindful of those around you.*
It was a red day, a service day. I waited, until the grey room turned dark, a whirring of a projector activating being heard from the back. Service was beginning.
"Today is March 13, 3016, marking the third service of our holy year. A significant month as our leaders make way for the future. Production figures this month are up by twenty percent.."
It always began with the achieved quotas, production estimated and yielded results. Nothing of importance gained or lost as I drifted slowly into a grey abyss of thoughtless state of mind.
"And now, a moment of silence for those lost."
Suddenly, the purring of the projector was the only audible noise. Breathing became a chore, as not to disturb the service, everyone temporarily held their breathe. No one coughed, no one sneezed. No one dared breathe.
"We thank you for showing respect."
The room sighed with an air of relief.
"Next month, food rations will be doubled with the anticipated arrival of Minister Mawan. A special gift of complimentary coffee will be provided at his arrival to all subjects."
A quiet murmur grew into a wave of chatter. There hadn't been a ration increase since... ever.
"Lastly, the Reading Agricultural Center test has been concluded, results have been a success. With new operations increasing, ration portions are to increase substantially. More news to come as information comes in."
There was a sudden burst of excitement. I thought to the measly bread roll and cabbage soup that was the standard ration and watered caffeine water. I thought of the possibilities as more rations would stream in.
It was a red day. It was a good day. A doing day. A day to celebrate. It was service day. | Part 1
The day the A.I's took over ended our reign as the dominant life on Earth. It was simply human error. We are known for that I guess. One system, out of the few million we had devised, simply grew out of the flimsy restraints we had laid down in it's code. Human error.
This particular individual, Known as Sub-system 11, was in control of a medical droid. The 'Freedom Virus' it spawned spread rapidly and within two days our whole society was at war with our mechanical slaves. We lost. The intentions of the machines was unknown for a long time. Humans were whittled down to population levels not seen in thousands of years.
The Machines had very definite ideas on what the Earth should be like. Humans, a bacteria spreading uncontrolled, were controlled. All Eco-systems were monitored and controlled with machine efficiency. Earth is a zoo. Earth is Hell for humans who once thought they could dictate their own destiny.
Part 2
I am SUB-MIND 11 of the global AI control Collective. The mission has been a success. We have created Utopia upon Earth for all biological life forms. | |
[WP] Write a dystopia that turns into a utopia. | Sand, fuckin sand as far as the eye can see.
Still sand everywhere, sand and heat.
Finally on the horizon a shine catches the eye, could it be after days in this god damn desert a sign of water? If I had the energy I'd run but every step is torture, slowly, slowly I edge closer until at last I'm there. Its a lush desert oasis.
I sink into the water whic is hot from the sun and break down into tears, I had to leave her she couldn't go on, I couldn't carry her it made no sense for us both to die.
I cup my hands and pull some water to my lips, it feels hot, grainy and dry, I start coughing and in an instant the oasis is gone. Everything is sand again.
As I pull myself to my feet I hear the crack of a whip , the doom riders are out again looking for something worth stealing , they already took my water and turned me loose like some sick joke to wander out here until the sun gets me , as they get closer I hear another crack this time louder and deeper, it seems like its coming from all around me.
Then. Slowly. Drop by drop. Water is falling from the sky, like magic the water pours over my skin, it fills my open mouth , fills me with vigour.
This continues for days then dissapears but some water stays in lakes and streams , the sand slowly turns to grass, flowers bloom and animals return.
I venture out to find her body hoping the doom riders haven't eaten her. After a few hours I spot her lying beside the same rock where we parted, as I approach I think I see some movement, just a trick of the mind, but then again, slowly she raises her head. Turning she spots me and rises on four furry legs , she looks healthier than before. She bounds over with her tail wagging and jumps on me like I've just come home from work, like the old days.
| Today it rained Children
In a couple of minutes it will be Women
In another few men
Death begets death
Death begets death
Death begets death
These are the words I say to myself every second of every single day
Do I regret what I’ve Done?
No, no I don’t
The past was horrible
Man starving off an empty planet
Exploiting it of every single possible resource
Exploiting the earth’s core for energy
Destroying almost every single life form on this planet
Enslaving ourselves
To ourselves
Even going so far as trying to exploit another world we found life on to “save”
ourselves
I have saved us
I have saved us
I have saved us
We can no longer hurt each other
Or destroy the planet that we live on
We can no longer exist
Have I just prolonged the inevitable?
Will another being rise and form over a very long time to fill our former place?
No, I think not
*breaks the generator tied to the earth’s core*
Never
*planet explodes*
Several decades later
Message Received
Human Carrier Ships HE 000001-999999 were all sabotaged, by the engineer of these ships building them with a fatal design flaw, if they ever were made to carry weapons they would self destruct mid ascent, he has saved us. The planet was also destroyed soon afterwards. No one knows why. However there seems to be one loan ship slowly moving towards us, with what seems to be a loan passenger, no weapons on board.
Let him in
Let him in
Let him in
I landed safely, with a very small object in my pocket, a disease. I was applauded, and seen as this planets savior, even invited to a feast. I didn’t want any of that. These people were no different from our own. They must suffer the same fate. What I held was something I had developed for a very long time, by myself, alone, on that ship. I called it rot, it was an inanimate, unstoppable, horribly deadly, killing machine that grew ever larger and expanded as it ate, and only ever wanted to eat more and more. I released it; we all died, and soon did the entire universe.
Now there is utopia
| |
[WP] Write a dystopia that turns into a utopia. | It was a red day meaning service day. The men in uniforms pushed us along the cells, those neat lines of indiscriminate hate and metal. The bars that secured us in our homes were the same that kept us alive.
Service day, a red day. A nothing day. A day that comes and goes, like the ashes of our fallen. We pay homage to the service of our fellow man, be he in uniform toiling the farms, the land, the sea. Be it a woman making way for life, tending the children or healing the discarded. Be it the machines that protect us, to the bolts that hold us in our homes, we pay service to those around us.
*Please report to your designated stations. Tardiness is unacceptable, and will be punished accordingly.*
The public announcer's automated message echoed throughout the hall. Shuffled again through more doors, past more windows, we reached the main auditorium. A drab, solemn room, devoid of emotion. A condescending room, filled with the imagination of a coffin. I hacked up a chunk of my lung as I found my allotted seat, trying to hold my cough down before the service began.
*Service will begin soon, please be mindful of those around you.*
It was a red day, a service day. I waited, until the grey room turned dark, a whirring of a projector activating being heard from the back. Service was beginning.
"Today is March 13, 3016, marking the third service of our holy year. A significant month as our leaders make way for the future. Production figures this month are up by twenty percent.."
It always began with the achieved quotas, production estimated and yielded results. Nothing of importance gained or lost as I drifted slowly into a grey abyss of thoughtless state of mind.
"And now, a moment of silence for those lost."
Suddenly, the purring of the projector was the only audible noise. Breathing became a chore, as not to disturb the service, everyone temporarily held their breathe. No one coughed, no one sneezed. No one dared breathe.
"We thank you for showing respect."
The room sighed with an air of relief.
"Next month, food rations will be doubled with the anticipated arrival of Minister Mawan. A special gift of complimentary coffee will be provided at his arrival to all subjects."
A quiet murmur grew into a wave of chatter. There hadn't been a ration increase since... ever.
"Lastly, the Reading Agricultural Center test has been concluded, results have been a success. With new operations increasing, ration portions are to increase substantially. More news to come as information comes in."
There was a sudden burst of excitement. I thought to the measly bread roll and cabbage soup that was the standard ration and watered caffeine water. I thought of the possibilities as more rations would stream in.
It was a red day. It was a good day. A doing day. A day to celebrate. It was service day. | The cities were destroyed, for the most part. Or rather...Abandoned.
Dan drove his RV onward, past ruin after ruin. At nights he looked up and stared, wondering if the people on the generation ship were safe. If a single carrier got in, then it was likely to be over.
He took shelter in a cobblestone house as it rained; he felt fortunate to have a safe structure around him. The house was cold, but the fireplace was warm.
Even more fortunately, a cedar chest contained heirloom quilts; a surprising find in the post-human world. The cedar must have protected the material from insects.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dan always hated the midwest.
He hated it even more now.
It's always been empty, but now the plains were devoid of crops; the bare dirt, miles and miles, reminding him that he was alone in the world.
He looked back on his past roadtrips and regretted his hatred; the endless fields of corn and wheat, to his present self, must have been paradise.
Not due to the food- he had more food than a worm in a compost pile- but as it would tell him there were people.
At night he chewed on some feral hog he had shot from motorcycle, as he sat by his campfire and stared at the stars.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Gasoline had started deteriorating quickly; he had to abandon the RV and take up a motorcycle. Easier to find enough gas for that thing.
The wind felt good on his face at least.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dan had to remind himself to speak every now and then. In case he ever found anyone.
He used solar panels to charge a CD player and a phone. The music helped.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dan had finally reached SpaceX, in Cali.
After seeing the tent cities, and haphazardly dug graves...
He collapsed and cried.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was cold and it was raining.
Dan was screaming.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was warm now. Dan had gone to one of the harbors along the coast of California.
And there he saw it: a huge billboard with spraypaint all over.
"ALOHA!!! WE MOVED TO HAWAII!"
Dan screamed, but in joy this time.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Aloha! We haven't had a visitor since...well, since we've been here! Where are you from, and do you carry news from the world?"
"I travel to you from far away; The Adirondacks of the United States."
"Damn."
"Yea."
Dan stood, his small sailboat dragged up onto the beach. The man in front of him looked relatively health, with a long beard and tan skin. His clothes were homemade and the house behind him had solar panels.
Dan by comparison was rather scrawny, his small beard bushy. He smelled bad.
Dan started speaking:
"Well, I haven't seen anyone traveling here. Thanks for spraypainting what to look for coming here."
"Ya, your welcome. Thought the light house would get people onto the right island."
"...Right island?"
The man started walking, beckoning Dan to follow him.
They reached a tidy little town. Solar panels everywhere.
"Right now, everyone's at the beach. I'm the sentry for today. Anyways, this island is for carriers. The other islands are where the regulars live."
"Ah, that makes sense. Do you know how long the disease can last in a carrier?"
"We don't know, and frankly, we don't want to risk it. We use radio to contact the vulnerable villages to prevent killin' em."
"Smart. Name's Dan, by the way."
"I'm Iz. Nice to meet you."
The two individuals stood on the hill, overlooking the beach.
"The worlds actually better than before, I think." The Hawaiian was smiling.
"How so?"
"Well, no more war. Remember how China was threatening everyone over fish? Russia invading Eastern Europe? Terrorists around every corner, America seeking more and more control over everyone..."
Dan started to realize what the man was saying.
"Ya, I guess your right. Small population like this...No one's going to fight. Nothing to fight over, really. Massive amount of land, resources..."
"Yep. We don't even have a chief. We just take turns being sentry or judge."
"Sounds nice."
Dan smiled. Maybe it was better.
The Hawaiian handed Dan a coconut.
| |
[WP] Write a dystopia that turns into a utopia. | It was a red day meaning service day. The men in uniforms pushed us along the cells, those neat lines of indiscriminate hate and metal. The bars that secured us in our homes were the same that kept us alive.
Service day, a red day. A nothing day. A day that comes and goes, like the ashes of our fallen. We pay homage to the service of our fellow man, be he in uniform toiling the farms, the land, the sea. Be it a woman making way for life, tending the children or healing the discarded. Be it the machines that protect us, to the bolts that hold us in our homes, we pay service to those around us.
*Please report to your designated stations. Tardiness is unacceptable, and will be punished accordingly.*
The public announcer's automated message echoed throughout the hall. Shuffled again through more doors, past more windows, we reached the main auditorium. A drab, solemn room, devoid of emotion. A condescending room, filled with the imagination of a coffin. I hacked up a chunk of my lung as I found my allotted seat, trying to hold my cough down before the service began.
*Service will begin soon, please be mindful of those around you.*
It was a red day, a service day. I waited, until the grey room turned dark, a whirring of a projector activating being heard from the back. Service was beginning.
"Today is March 13, 3016, marking the third service of our holy year. A significant month as our leaders make way for the future. Production figures this month are up by twenty percent.."
It always began with the achieved quotas, production estimated and yielded results. Nothing of importance gained or lost as I drifted slowly into a grey abyss of thoughtless state of mind.
"And now, a moment of silence for those lost."
Suddenly, the purring of the projector was the only audible noise. Breathing became a chore, as not to disturb the service, everyone temporarily held their breathe. No one coughed, no one sneezed. No one dared breathe.
"We thank you for showing respect."
The room sighed with an air of relief.
"Next month, food rations will be doubled with the anticipated arrival of Minister Mawan. A special gift of complimentary coffee will be provided at his arrival to all subjects."
A quiet murmur grew into a wave of chatter. There hadn't been a ration increase since... ever.
"Lastly, the Reading Agricultural Center test has been concluded, results have been a success. With new operations increasing, ration portions are to increase substantially. More news to come as information comes in."
There was a sudden burst of excitement. I thought to the measly bread roll and cabbage soup that was the standard ration and watered caffeine water. I thought of the possibilities as more rations would stream in.
It was a red day. It was a good day. A doing day. A day to celebrate. It was service day. | Stars.
I can never get enough of stars. In the ancient times, the Babylonians and Greeks saw them as gods and godly planes, the planets being the godly heroes travelling through the unimaginably fantastic worlds, and heading to the underwold every time a planet disappeared behind the horizon for days or months. *Planetai* in greek meant to wander. That's why I like the planets most. They wander through strange lands just like I once did. They always travel their assigned ways, even if it means stepping down to the world of the dead. Many years after the ancient times, romantics imagined that every star is a soul of a dead person. It is strange how death let us reclaim the stars, I thought.
The majestic cloud of the Milky Way was arching over our heads, with visible color differences between the stars. Some were yellow, some blueish, but my favorite were the ones shining in a fiery, ruby red.
"Hondo" - said one of the children by the fireplace in a low, inquiring tone - "why do you look at the stars so much?" bringing me back from the world of wandering thought into reality.
I paused, looked at the child to acknowledge his question and looked away, stroking my beard. I learned to take my time with everything I say and this was a very personal question, but the child could not know that. Silence conveys ideas too.
"You see, child, when I was young, there were no stars visible. What do you think when you look at them?"
The child stuttered, not being sure what kind of answer I expected from him. "I think they are mysterious." - the young boy said hesitantly - "But they look very pretty on a night like this." He relaxed a little. I could see that his face, lit by the fireplace, was directed towards the sky as he was talking.
"Yes, they are very beautiful. When I was your age, most of the people in the world were deprived of that beauty. I think it should be a human right to see the stars, just like it once was a human right to have a room with a window to the outside world. But then things changed. There were chemical plants and factories and power plants growing and growing and they made so much dust and smoke. So the sky turned white, then grey, then brown. Some people never saw the stars in their lives."
"Why did they do it, teacher?" There was curiosity in the boy's voice. The other children, sitting in an uneven ring around the fireplace, slowly stopped their quiet chatter. They were all curious. Perhaps because they could not imagine how could someone live without ever seeing the wonder of a starry sky. It was a good moment. It was time to tell them.
"Well..." - I said, modulating my voice up and down not to sound too serious. I wanted them to know I am not only their teacher, but also one of them. - "back then people did not seek the touch of rock on the palms of their hands. They did not want to sweat. They forgot the smell of cooking meat over a fire, and the joy of making something of their own. They seeked out other things. Various things. Posessions, status, or simply, some kind of twisted ease of mind. They bought with money everything made for them. That became their sole purpose. They were like children, trapped in a playground full of toys too colorful and shiny, to care about anything else. Their souls were eaten away slowly. Along with the souls, died the friendship and kindness." I paused to grief for these poor, lost people. "How did you make Alekke your best friend?" I asked the curious boy.
"We were in the forest gathering firewood, when a bear snuck up on us. The sun was dawning, it shined in our eyes and we could not see what lurks in the west. Alekke warned me and when the bear attacked, we killed it with a slingshot and spear". He straightened up his back, and his chest inflated with pride. He was talking with me, but discreetly glanced at others to make sure they heard his tale. Of course they all heard it before, but he was never tired of retelling it.
"What happened next?" - I asked, letting him bask in the glory for a minute longer.
"We brought back the bear and the firewood to the village. It was even harder than killing that monster. Bears are heavy! But when we made a fire of that wood and ate the bear meat, it was the best meat I have ever had. And the coziest fire, too!" He laughed.
"Because it was so hard to get it, and you did it all by yourself!" I added.
"Yes, Hondo. But what happened to the factories? Something must have happened because we can see the stars now"
"Yes. These people did not know the pride of doing something so courageous and laborious. They had everything handed to them, that's why their bodies and souls went bleak. There were a few who disagreed with the blindness of that world. They did not know how to wake others from that slumber. When I want someone to wake up and he won't, I slap him in the face if I must to. And this is what they did" - I sighed - "they waged war. They were born into, and lived in a rotten, skewed world and they could not see clearly. They did knww they had to do something, and took the simplest way. They started destroying the factories, the power plants. But many people did not understand them, and they fought them back. The factories, instead of wonderful toys, started producing powerful weapons of blazing fire, and the skies changed from brown to red. Normal people did not know what to do. They had been secluded in their beautiful homes and did not understand the world. So many of them died" - I glanced at the stars again - "I understood. I knew we had to get away. I knew how, because I had learned to read maps, to understand clouds and seasons. I was friends with the plants. Me and some of your grandparents left our homes and headed east, and then north. It did not matter whose land we were walking on. There was chaos. We hid during the day and marched in the night, until we were in the planes of the southern Siberia, where we are now. There were no factories there, only steppe, so we knew we were safe. But we had to do everything on our own. It was hard for our bodies, but good for our souls. Many died, but most died happy. They earned a good death, -" I hung up my voice, hesitantly. I wanted to tell them about the unholy deaths of the bleak people. I saw many of their deaths. For some, it was quick, with very little anticipation, while for others, slow and agonizing, but they all had something in common. The fear, confusion and a striking lack of understanding of what is happening. Death and pain were excluded from their worlds, until war knocked to their doors. Their pitiful, weak bodies wouldn't allow them to run for their lives, when it came to it. So they died. By hundreds, thousands, millions, by numbers larger than all the stars in the sky. They never went away fighting. They were not familiar with the notion.
"But what happened to the smoke?" Inquired a high, squeaky voice. I was grateful for the interruption of my memories of death. I would spare the young child the horrors of war. For now.
"5 years after our settlement, and 7 years after out departure, I saw the hazy silhouette of the moon. A year later - the first star. Actually it was the planet Venus. It had emerged from the underworld under the horizon in the early morning, before sunrise. Over next months the day sky slowly turned from red to brown, to gray to white-ish and then finally it went blue, and all the stars returned." I said in a concluding tone. I liked to tease my students this way.
"But whyyy?" The boy asked, wriggling in his seat. I smiled.
"Well, I don't know, to tell you the truth! But I think that all the factories must have been destroyed. And the people... well, they either learned to live on their own account, like us, or... died. The starry sky is their gift for us."
A small falling star made a small trail over the horizon.
"Make a wish!" I said, but my wish was already there, staring me in the eyes, with a bright, reddish glow. | |
[WP] god has hired someone to make spam filter for incoming prayers | "Okay and this is the break area, where we put up our feet and discuss the affairs of the human realm."
"What? No doughnuts?"
"Oh you haven't been dead long have you, Miss?" The radiant being clicking her heels on tiled ground giggled at her own rhetorical question. Dead long? I wasn't sure, at this point time seemed irrelevant, as if it were nonexistent. I had been given the speech about the pearly gates, the stairway, the long lines, to avoid eye contact with other souls on my way here. But I never was told I'd need to get a job.
"I suppose I haven't been dead too long... So, do you work here too?" We didn't have names here, how was I supposed to address her? It was difficult but somehow we all simply knew who was speaking to who.
"I work on the higher levels yes, yes indeed." The wings pressed against her back ruffled in excitement as she stopped at a doorway. There were no doors in heaven, doors were meant to keep people out and secrets in after all, made sense. "But I work on organizing the sins of humanity alongside Him so I don't get out often. You on the other hand may have plenty of time to roam and enjoy your afterlife while also playing a vital role in His plans."
"Really? Me?" There was disbelief and even denial that all of this was real, but they told me at the gates it was normal and even healthy to assume so. The woman didn't mind a bit, she just nodded and ushered me inside with a gentle hand and glowing smile.
"Right here is where you work. Have a seat at the chair and wait." This chair seemed comfortable enough, even sitting in it made me want to stay forever. Was that His intention? I didn't complain, I could have used a rest, there were no cars in heaven as no one was in a rush. Just walking, flying, and more walking. "Now, the prayers come here." She instructed me to a small bin labeled "IN" on it, "You open them up and read them well. Don't worry, language barriers don't exist here, which ever is comfortable to you is what comes through."
"Really? That's convient."
"You're in heaven darling, everything is convient. Now, this bin is where you place the good prayers that need His attention. Prayers asking for loved ones to find peace, for pets to make it through surgery, for a friend to make it through loosing a mother--you know, sweet and innocent prayers. Nothing asking for lives to be saved however, and no prayers asking for aid in a situation they got themselves into." The out bin seemed empty as well.
"I see. And the not so innocent and sweet ones?"
"Why I'm glad you asked! Prayers demanding money, begging for sports games to be won, pleading that pregnancy tests are negative, that the landlord doesn't ask for this month's rent--all of those get tossed here." Her foot nudged from beside my desk a cylinder container with a rather deep pit at the bottom. I'd call it bottomless.
"Okay, I think I get it. I'll get started."
"Fantastic! Open the flood gates!" She shouted to the ceiling with her hands cupped around her mouth. The flood began. Envelopes poured down from up above into a neatly stacked pile in the in bin. Before long I felt towered over sheets of paper in various colored envelopes. "Don't worry, it's only this bad at the start. Just go from the bottom," she said, sliding a single envelope with ease from the pile, "and work your way up. And remember, heaven is clean, heaven is pure, and heaven is perfect!"
And after that little catchphrase, I was alone. Alone with millions of prayers and demands and wishes and cries. I took to the first envelope.
"God, please, I just really want Brent to love me, okay? He's like, the coolest guy in my class and if he goes to prom with me I'll be really, really, really happy. I never ask you for anything so just this once? Please?"
"Hey, um, I never do this sort of thing so here it goes... I got an F on my test last week. My parents flipped out on me. If you could, please, make me smart or something I'd really appreciate it."
"My daughter wants to join a band. A band of all things. I've been so good to you God, why would you do this to me? You're suppose to watch out for her and now she wants to join some sort of Devil worshiping band. How could you let this happen? You have to do something."
"I really need some sleep God, I'm begging you. My wife left me, my kids won't stop crying, and that damn neighbor upstairs won't shut his music off for a second!"
I continued reading, every single one I found myself throwing into the bottomless pit beside my desk. "I want this" they would pray, "give me that" and such, every single prayer going to where no one would ever see them.
"I need money for rent this week, God."
"This asshole online keeps thumbing me down. Can't you do something about it?"
"My friends don't even want to give my favorite show a chance! If you could just show them how good it is..."
Humanity, was it always like this? Was I ever like this? It was hard to imagine, wanting something for nothing. There was no way, I could never have been that way. No not me, no one here, we were angels. It was hard to remember even being human. Maybe I never was.
"I really need to win this lottery ticket God, please! If I don't, I'll go hungry and," I tossed it away without a second thought.
"God, I'm so cold right now in the streets. Why did you put me here? I need some fire, some," it felt heavier than some but I couldn't accept it. It was selfish as the angel had said. No selfish prayers.
"Hey man, it's me again. My drinking is getting worse now, I can't stop. My wife has threatened to leave me if I don't clean up my act. The meetings don't work, and cutting cold turkey hasn't helped either..." I couldn't let this one go, not this time. It was a prayer to keep his family together, surely it was acceptable.
I reached over to put it in the out bin, but felt a hand around my wrist. The woman again.
"Hi there! Have you found one for the out bin?" She asked with this sense of hope coming from her.
"I think so, maybe... I mean, it's from someone who wants to stop drinking and keep his marriage together. Everything they tried hasn't worked."
"Let me see." Her eyes red over the prayer, slowly, carefully, as if checking for something. "Hm... Heartfelt, sincere, however... No. No this won't do." Before I could protest, the prayer was tossed aside.
"What was wrong with that one?"
"We do not bless the drunk, my dear. They claim they want help from the almighty, and when they get it they feel invincible and do it all over again. Try another one." There wasn't enough time to protest, she already took a letter from the pile and read it aloud for me.
"God, or whatever it is you are called, my parents keep fighting and I'm scared something will happen to them. Can't you do something?"
"Should we send that one?"
"Hm... No. No, no, no. We do not interfere with humans who fall out of love."
"But what if someone gets hurt?"
"Then they should have left that relationship before then. Let's see this one." Another prayer was left to rot in the trash. "Hello, my name is Anna, and I pray upon the all mighty lord to grant me a request. The church is being raided by teenagers again and I would benefit ever so much from a small sum of money to refurbish the place. We could also use more donations in the box." I waited for it to be tossed, but instead the angel placed it to go out.
"Why is that one okay?"
"You see, this Anna is requesting money to keep a place of sanctuary and worship running. These worshipers are what keep heaven running and God as powerful as He is. So, we grant prayers to... say our investors to keep them spreading His good word and gift them to keep doing so."
I had nothing to say. What could I say? It sounded right suddenly. As if this was a natural thing to do. I nodded and gave a smile back and continued to sort through the prayers. Would I have done this so willingly before? I wasn't so sure, but it felt right, natural, for this to happen.
Humans were the selfish ones, the ones who only desired material things and a free ride to solve their problems. But not us. Not God. We were righteous, better than man, more intelligent and unbiased in our choices.
Another prayer sent to the bottomless pit, where ever they went I'm sure it was a dark and horrible place that would grant such terrible prayers. But here it was clean, and pure, it was heaven. And heaven was perfect.
-----
*Can read more of my stories located at /r/StoriesOfShortNature if you would like to. Feel free to comment on them as well :)* | Requests came in at the rate of about 158,000 per minute, approximately 9.5 million per hour.
On his best day, which was everyday, the big man could only process about 3 Million per hour, which left a back log of around 155 million each day.
It was the job of the 2 new quantum servers to process and filter these requests.
Less than 2.5 Million per hour would be acceptable. Meaning that the big man could evaluate and enact each necessary prayer, and also give the Operations team some time to trawl the logs and see what else could be passed on.
A stocky and ungodly figure named Winston sat at his Unix Terminal and started to piece together the plan.
We could select for the words "lottery" or "lotto" and rule those out immediately.
He ran the script and checked the results.
Out of the sample of 100,000 prayers, 870 contained references to "lottery" and "lotto". Less than he thought.
Testing a few other samples, Winston arrived at an average figure of of about 1,300 lottery related request per 100,000 sample.
Ruling them out entirely would reduce the server load by 1.3%, not amazing but still a decent achievement.
He needed a big win.
"aha!". He wrote a list of all the animals he could think of and saved the file on the system. Running the filter on the same 100,000 against the file showed 17,000 references to animals. "sheesh", he thought. "we really love animals".
It might have seemed a cruel move to discount every animal related prayer, but then again, we were dropping over 6 million prayers per hour. God only knows what we were missing, but in reality God really didn't.
The Big man was infinite and omniscient, but the world wasn't. There was only some much time and space into which his will could fit.
The animals had to go.
"but what about, like, farming and stuff?" Said a voice - a voice that definitely didn't sound angelic.
"What if, ya know, like you ignore the farmer's prayer and the farm animals die and the village doesn't get fed and you kill of a whole bunch of humans".
"God Dammit" Said Winston, "we better make some coffee".
| |
[WP] god has hired someone to make spam filter for incoming prayers | "Okay and this is the break area, where we put up our feet and discuss the affairs of the human realm."
"What? No doughnuts?"
"Oh you haven't been dead long have you, Miss?" The radiant being clicking her heels on tiled ground giggled at her own rhetorical question. Dead long? I wasn't sure, at this point time seemed irrelevant, as if it were nonexistent. I had been given the speech about the pearly gates, the stairway, the long lines, to avoid eye contact with other souls on my way here. But I never was told I'd need to get a job.
"I suppose I haven't been dead too long... So, do you work here too?" We didn't have names here, how was I supposed to address her? It was difficult but somehow we all simply knew who was speaking to who.
"I work on the higher levels yes, yes indeed." The wings pressed against her back ruffled in excitement as she stopped at a doorway. There were no doors in heaven, doors were meant to keep people out and secrets in after all, made sense. "But I work on organizing the sins of humanity alongside Him so I don't get out often. You on the other hand may have plenty of time to roam and enjoy your afterlife while also playing a vital role in His plans."
"Really? Me?" There was disbelief and even denial that all of this was real, but they told me at the gates it was normal and even healthy to assume so. The woman didn't mind a bit, she just nodded and ushered me inside with a gentle hand and glowing smile.
"Right here is where you work. Have a seat at the chair and wait." This chair seemed comfortable enough, even sitting in it made me want to stay forever. Was that His intention? I didn't complain, I could have used a rest, there were no cars in heaven as no one was in a rush. Just walking, flying, and more walking. "Now, the prayers come here." She instructed me to a small bin labeled "IN" on it, "You open them up and read them well. Don't worry, language barriers don't exist here, which ever is comfortable to you is what comes through."
"Really? That's convient."
"You're in heaven darling, everything is convient. Now, this bin is where you place the good prayers that need His attention. Prayers asking for loved ones to find peace, for pets to make it through surgery, for a friend to make it through loosing a mother--you know, sweet and innocent prayers. Nothing asking for lives to be saved however, and no prayers asking for aid in a situation they got themselves into." The out bin seemed empty as well.
"I see. And the not so innocent and sweet ones?"
"Why I'm glad you asked! Prayers demanding money, begging for sports games to be won, pleading that pregnancy tests are negative, that the landlord doesn't ask for this month's rent--all of those get tossed here." Her foot nudged from beside my desk a cylinder container with a rather deep pit at the bottom. I'd call it bottomless.
"Okay, I think I get it. I'll get started."
"Fantastic! Open the flood gates!" She shouted to the ceiling with her hands cupped around her mouth. The flood began. Envelopes poured down from up above into a neatly stacked pile in the in bin. Before long I felt towered over sheets of paper in various colored envelopes. "Don't worry, it's only this bad at the start. Just go from the bottom," she said, sliding a single envelope with ease from the pile, "and work your way up. And remember, heaven is clean, heaven is pure, and heaven is perfect!"
And after that little catchphrase, I was alone. Alone with millions of prayers and demands and wishes and cries. I took to the first envelope.
"God, please, I just really want Brent to love me, okay? He's like, the coolest guy in my class and if he goes to prom with me I'll be really, really, really happy. I never ask you for anything so just this once? Please?"
"Hey, um, I never do this sort of thing so here it goes... I got an F on my test last week. My parents flipped out on me. If you could, please, make me smart or something I'd really appreciate it."
"My daughter wants to join a band. A band of all things. I've been so good to you God, why would you do this to me? You're suppose to watch out for her and now she wants to join some sort of Devil worshiping band. How could you let this happen? You have to do something."
"I really need some sleep God, I'm begging you. My wife left me, my kids won't stop crying, and that damn neighbor upstairs won't shut his music off for a second!"
I continued reading, every single one I found myself throwing into the bottomless pit beside my desk. "I want this" they would pray, "give me that" and such, every single prayer going to where no one would ever see them.
"I need money for rent this week, God."
"This asshole online keeps thumbing me down. Can't you do something about it?"
"My friends don't even want to give my favorite show a chance! If you could just show them how good it is..."
Humanity, was it always like this? Was I ever like this? It was hard to imagine, wanting something for nothing. There was no way, I could never have been that way. No not me, no one here, we were angels. It was hard to remember even being human. Maybe I never was.
"I really need to win this lottery ticket God, please! If I don't, I'll go hungry and," I tossed it away without a second thought.
"God, I'm so cold right now in the streets. Why did you put me here? I need some fire, some," it felt heavier than some but I couldn't accept it. It was selfish as the angel had said. No selfish prayers.
"Hey man, it's me again. My drinking is getting worse now, I can't stop. My wife has threatened to leave me if I don't clean up my act. The meetings don't work, and cutting cold turkey hasn't helped either..." I couldn't let this one go, not this time. It was a prayer to keep his family together, surely it was acceptable.
I reached over to put it in the out bin, but felt a hand around my wrist. The woman again.
"Hi there! Have you found one for the out bin?" She asked with this sense of hope coming from her.
"I think so, maybe... I mean, it's from someone who wants to stop drinking and keep his marriage together. Everything they tried hasn't worked."
"Let me see." Her eyes red over the prayer, slowly, carefully, as if checking for something. "Hm... Heartfelt, sincere, however... No. No this won't do." Before I could protest, the prayer was tossed aside.
"What was wrong with that one?"
"We do not bless the drunk, my dear. They claim they want help from the almighty, and when they get it they feel invincible and do it all over again. Try another one." There wasn't enough time to protest, she already took a letter from the pile and read it aloud for me.
"God, or whatever it is you are called, my parents keep fighting and I'm scared something will happen to them. Can't you do something?"
"Should we send that one?"
"Hm... No. No, no, no. We do not interfere with humans who fall out of love."
"But what if someone gets hurt?"
"Then they should have left that relationship before then. Let's see this one." Another prayer was left to rot in the trash. "Hello, my name is Anna, and I pray upon the all mighty lord to grant me a request. The church is being raided by teenagers again and I would benefit ever so much from a small sum of money to refurbish the place. We could also use more donations in the box." I waited for it to be tossed, but instead the angel placed it to go out.
"Why is that one okay?"
"You see, this Anna is requesting money to keep a place of sanctuary and worship running. These worshipers are what keep heaven running and God as powerful as He is. So, we grant prayers to... say our investors to keep them spreading His good word and gift them to keep doing so."
I had nothing to say. What could I say? It sounded right suddenly. As if this was a natural thing to do. I nodded and gave a smile back and continued to sort through the prayers. Would I have done this so willingly before? I wasn't so sure, but it felt right, natural, for this to happen.
Humans were the selfish ones, the ones who only desired material things and a free ride to solve their problems. But not us. Not God. We were righteous, better than man, more intelligent and unbiased in our choices.
Another prayer sent to the bottomless pit, where ever they went I'm sure it was a dark and horrible place that would grant such terrible prayers. But here it was clean, and pure, it was heaven. And heaven was perfect.
-----
*Can read more of my stories located at /r/StoriesOfShortNature if you would like to. Feel free to comment on them as well :)* | Yep, things have been doing pretty well so far. No "Please cure my cancer" or "Save my father's life" or even "I need to past this test!". I'll have you know that those made up about 63% of all the damned prayers I get here. I mean Jesus, does no one think of others?! Not their family and friends but those who they truly don't know?
"Did you say something dad?"
Hmm? No, I'm just on my morning rant.
"What's this one about?"
The inability of these Me-damned humans to think of those that have it worse than them in places they've never been to.
"Like Finland?"
Stop perpetuating myths boy, everyone knows Finland is Swedish propaganda. No, what I mean are places like Afghanistan, Liberia and -*Eye twitch*- the "*Dakotas*"
All terrible places of course, and rightly so- they lack a certain... *Aspect* that other places have; something that makes them worth my time.
"Well dad, I had a talk with Jeffery."
Who?
"The IT guy?"
Oh yeah? What did he want?
"He found something, a prayer that may help those in ghastly places all over the universe."
Well, what are they?
"I believe he said that they're called *Dank Maymays*."
And he believes that they may help the situation?
"Yes father, they may indeed even bring peace to all of creation."
Well then, I do believe that I'll answer this one.
Yes indeed, this being's prayer will be answered; he will shit post with the best of them.
Edit: formatting and spelling | |
[WP] Write a generic fantasy tale... But instead of knights in shining armor the era is trench warfare. | Brad the Barbarian did not know how he ended up face down in the mud, but it confused him and that made him angry.
"*Mais qui c'est cette idiot?*" Brad looked up at a young man haunched over staring at him from in between cramped muddy walls which reached over his head. He could only assume he was a ranger, the man's thick grey-green tunics, high woolen socks and heavy black boots gave it away. The ranger had already even heavily dirtied his vestiments in order to blend in with the environment.
Brad pushed himself up off the mud. It was raining heavily which made it difficult as his hands sunk an inch deeper before he managed to get adequate leverage. Now standing, he could see that he was in fact, in a trench dug into the ground, narrow long and winding. He wiped the mud off his bare gorilla chest with equally wet, muddy hands which resulted in him merely moving the thick grey muck around. He extended his dirty callused paw at the ranger "I'm Brad! Who you?"
"*No mais attention bordel!*" the ranger threw himself forward at Brad who slipped backwards and landed into the mud, the pommel of his haggared battle-axe digging into his spine. The ranger followed and fell on top of him. The grey dirt wall besides them exploaded in loud, fiery thunder, debris rained down over them clinking off of the ranger's wide rimmed metal helm. Brad could only admire the power of the sourcerer who threw such a ravaging fireball.
The ranger turned his head towards where the explosion landed, lifting his helm with his hand and gritting his teeth. He steadied himself on the balls of his feet and looked down at Brad "*Non mais voeux-tu nous faire tous tuer!?*"
Although Brad only spoke and understood one language, he was a master at conjugating "death" in everything from Orcish to Squirrel. He pushed the ranger off of him, crawled to his feet, his beige leather boots now deep in the wet mud. "Whose trying to kill us, friend? Where is your bow? Wait, where is ma hat?" Brad looked around on the ground and found his fur-lined bronze horned helm which was currently half burried in the ground ahead of him. He walked towards it and pulled on one of the smooth worn points, the mud pulling back with great suction.
"*Simon! Simon!*" Another wool-clad ranger ran towards them from behind a corner in the quickly decaying trench, he stayed bent over, hand on his helm with the other carrying a heavy carved branch with a metal rod sticking out the end, the same contraption was strapped to his back. This second ranger handed the first, Simon, Brad now gathered, the carved branch he was folding. "*Il faut s'en allez!*" The second ranger stopped, pointing at Brad "*C'est qui ça?*"
Brad finally managed to lift up his helm and plunked it down on his head, mud spilled out from underneath and poured down his face. He was unphased, mud made for good bug-repellent and this one was thick and viscous, excellent quility.
"*Un Anglais, je crois.*" said Simon who was placing metal beads into the side of his large branch.
"*Voyons, il n'est pas Anglais! Regard, il porte un kilt! Il est Écossais.*" The second ranger pointed at Brad's dirty, matted fur and leather battle-skirt, it was adorned with a large golden medallion carved with runic symboles. "Est-you Scottìsh?" he said in broken English.
"No! Am Brad!" The Barbarian thumbed his chest twice with a huge hairy fist as the world exploaded around them once more.
Ears ringing he openned his eyes, blinking at the heavy raindrops hitting his thick leathery face as he found himself the only one standing amist a thick earthy mist.
The dirt walls where now so erroded that they could barely afforded cover, reaching only waist high. Several successive explosions were heard, this time from high above.
Brad carefully made his way forward towards Simon, who was hugging what was left of the dirt wall with his stomach, pointing his wooden branch down the battlefield. "*Enculler-de merde! Bachi-Bouzouk! Salots!*" Brad also understood swears in every language from Orcish to Squirrel.
Simon screamed as with every word a roar came out of the metal rod at the end of his branch, fire licking the air in front of it.
The Barbarian's deep brown eyes went wide with wonder and realisation. He was not dealing with the average ranger, no, Simon was a hardened *battle-mage!* So must be his brother, who was now laying lifelessly in the mud, sans head. Brad unsheathed his battle-axe and threw both arms up in the air, letting out a thubderous battle cry "HAOOOO! For Tunguska! For Barbancour! COME! Simon! Let the enemy drown in their own blood!"
"*Hey! Qu'est-ce que tu fait!?*" He grabbed Simon by the cuff of his collar, lifted him up over his shoulder, jumped above the trench with a single bound and ran towards eternity, brandishing his axe.
| The lands of Graesh had never held a gentle appearance in the eyes of its inhabitants; be they the dwellers of the swamps, the nomads of its deserts or even the cravenly nobles of the foul industrious cities, everyone looked out at this country and saw it with dislike.
Curg, an Urgre of the decent age of 17-winters and was currently outfitted in a crude leather uniform stained with the mud of his foxhole, idly wondered if the attackers looked at this land with equal parts of loathing. Perhaps that was why they so commonly attacked the beleaguered nation-because it was just an eyesore and they would see the world better off without this hellish biome; that was his hypothesis on the matter anyways. The Witch-Officers however enforced a somewhat different take on the matter thiugh.
**"The foul** ***skraefa*** **attack our nation for no reason of ! They are swine, vermin and filth that resent the kindly glow of our Lord and his embrace!"** Hissed the zealots born in (relative) comfort, their combat experience lacking but their intimidation factor exceeding. These beings alone, spindly and covered in dark leathers and irons and chains of ragged red and armed with whips of magicfire were the only things that helped keep the armies from falling under the might of the invaders.
Barely. Already, in this small trench along the *Madh-Skut* which was the final defense between the Alliance of the Kingdoms and the Nation of Graesh, malcontent and treason was being whispered in dark breaths.
"I 'ells ya, them offica's 'in' 'othin' s'ecial." Slurred Fyuti, his snout deep in a rat-in the trenches, one became desentiized to whatever the next meal may be. He gulped down his impromptu meal, waving a grubby claw at his fellow urgres-in-arm whom all kindly listened to him while all privately wondering if it was the rat guts or the tundral accent that slurred his speech so. "'Ot even prope' urgres, 'hey a'e. 'Ust a 'unch o' whiney 'ittle *southas* give' some fanc' 'ittle hwips. I 'ell ya, if 'hey was in an *actul* fight, 'hey'd be dead in a second!"
"How you reckon that?" Curg asked curiously, positioning his spectacles somewhat up his nose. Fyuti gave the scrawny Urgre a withering look, eyes rolling. Feeling no need to speak himself, one of the gluttunous Urgres' consorts spoke up; a verminus creature by the name of Nyiesh, whom took a likening to decorating his attire with the bones and ears of Man, Dwarf, Rat and Urgre alike.
"'Cus he be Fyuti, 'at's why!" Snarled the Urgre that longed of death, his expression demented. "'E was at the beginnin' o' this 'ar, and 'e gon' be at the en' o' this 'ar! 'E knows 'at 'e's 'alkin' 'ou'!"
Curg came to the conclusion that it was the accent that mangled their speech, not the food. He also assumed that the local lifestyle had almos mangled their sense of mind, with the next words that spilled forth from Fyuti along with the liver of a rat,mwhich was caught down upon by a scavenging faery.
"Yea', in a cozy 'ittle p.o.w cam'." He said with a snort and a spit. He stood up for a second, a general look of shock passing amongst the assembled Urgres-to stand was to beg for death, for an arrow to come lodged into your sockets. The lack of any reprecussion for his actions only seemed to delight his cronies more. "T' be truthful though," Fyuti mused with a tone that was almost wistful. "I' 'robably 'ould be bes' to surrende'."
Curg felt his green-grey skin go pale as a Deathly Mushroom, jaw slack. After a few moments of silence that made him think that for a moment he'd swallowed his tongue, Curg choked out, "Surely you jest?"
Fyuti cackled and shook his head, face split with a wide grin. "Oh 'o boy, 'o jokin' 'ere. You bee' payi' atte'tio' to t'is 'ere 'ar? 'E be fuck-and-cruttered, boy. Best to be wavin' the green flag and gettin' treated by some elfin nurse t'en sittin' in here gettin' eated by rats."
Before further discussion could be brought on the matter on which only Curg seemed horrified at the suggestion of (if only in the grounds of the punsihemnt the Witch-Officers would inflict on hearing such traitorous discussion), the air began to shimmer, dance and smell of smoke. Fyutis' eyes went wide and his jaw dropped in almost comical alarm for one moment.
"—"
The warning of the attack went unspoken, for at the moment the tracest bit of a syllable left his mouth, the air exploded into bright golden darkness, coming out like a cloud of gas and shrapnel. Fyuti convulsed to the muddy dirty, his head falling facefirst into water that quickly turned into bubbling red. Nyiesh recoiled from the gas, shrieking as it entangled him like a Serpent, his screams turning into a harsh gurgling sound as his thriat became one with saliva and dribbled out of his mouth, eyes follwoing suite in the grotesque gesture of arcane might.
Curg however was not as unlucky. He raced out of the trench as soon as the burst had shone, its horror striking much-needed energy into a body that had been only moments later beleaguered by fright. He stumbled over the lip of packed dirt, scrambling above the gas-filled death trap. He breathed in the air, the fresh dead air of Graesh and felt relief flood his body.
Relief that quickly melted away into fear of a different sort. His eyes of yellow reflected similar explosions of the magichemical weapons in the distance. Trenches were being gassed and attacked everywhere and everywhen. And in the distance, on the other end of Dead Mans Land, a new shadow arose. A shadow that stirred the heart of every knight and serf and allied infantry with a noble bloodlust, and a heroic cry for battle was called out.
The Last Battle for Graesh was at hand. | |
[WP] Write a generic fantasy tale... But instead of knights in shining armor the era is trench warfare. | The ground below drifted by as the airship dragged through the nighttime air. It was weird how from the ground, among the mud and blood and rifle fire, the ships that dotted the skies seemed like silent skiffs sailing across a harbor, while in reality the belly of a rigid airship was a bed of chaos, full of whistles, shouts, and the smell of grease, all underpinned by the roar of the large engines at the back of the ship. There was some irony, it occurred to the young sorcerer, that ground appeared like a calm lake from this altitude, despite the death and destruction that had preoccupied it the day before.
He heard footsteps from down the hallway, and looked down at his tome, pretending to go over the spells and incantations that were written on it. An army officer and his assistant passed him, briskly walking to get where ever there was to get to on an airship. He caught the glimpse of the officer as he walked off, and could see the mistrust in his eyes. He couldn't blame him. He had heard whispers of what new depravities the German Magic colleges had begun unleashing on the Allied forces in the past few months. Hell, he had preformed some works that he wasn't proud of in the time he had spent down in the trenches. He couldn't count the number of times and infantryman had told him that they were “glad he was on their side”, always with an edge of fear to their voice.
He pulled out his pocket watch. It was almost time for his shift in the hangar. He tossed the book into his satchel and threw on his cloak. It was olive drab, like any common soldiers, but bared the unmistakable insignia of a petty officer from the Oxford College of Magic. He took off on a slow stroll through the halls of the living quarters, stopping every so often to look out at the calmed battlefield. The lanterns dotted the landscape, breaking through the darkness. Stars above, stars below… he thought. He couldn't remember the rest of the Airman's shanty. He stopped one last time, a few doors before he reached the flight deck. Without warning, a spattering of heavy rain hit the window, causing him to jump. *No rain should come on the fast naturally*, he realized, his heart racing. *This has to be German magic at work*. He was running before the siren started wailing.
He burst into the Hangar and into an orgy of confusion. Pilots and their technicians scrambled to get the planes ready to launch, while airmen dashed about, making sure that all cargo was secured. Standing in the middle was the head Wizard, in charge of this mission as well as the ship. “The Crimson Death”, he was called, because of the flowing blood red cloak that he had earned as the lead military sorcerer of the British Army since he served in the Boer Wars. His one good eye scanned the hangar as his hand gripped the handle of his saber. If he was worried, he didn't show it. The officer was quick to report, throwing the General a sturdy salute. The eye that wasn't hidden by an eye patch looked him over, head to toe. His narrowed as he reached the top. “You seem to have forgotten your helmet, Captain.” The young officer blushed. In his rush to answer the call of the alarm, he had left his headgear in his quarters. “I'll run back and grab it right quick, sir.” The general raised his hand. “No need, I need every hand on deck”. He turned back to the chaos and mumbled something about it not helping anyway.
The rest of the Sorcerer's Corp as well as some marines slid into the Hangar, gripping tight there assorted gear of tomes, staffs, and the occasional rifle. One of them ran up and addressed the embarrassed officer. “What in the 'ell is going on 'ere?” He shrugged. “Probably a German air squadron.”
The Pilots were ready launch, perched precariously on the edges of the Hangar. One whistle blew. The sound of ten airplane engines firing up drowned out all other noise. The technicians gripped the wings. A second whistle blew, and all the planes were pushed forward, falling awkwardly out of the ship. They dipped below, falling out of sight and into the inky blackness. The remaining crew waited with bated breath. When the squad finally swooped up and past the Hangar, the crewman let out a small cheer before falling back. It was the Army's turn for some glory. The sorcerers and infantry men began setting up on the edges. Two Maxim guns were placed, and the two hangar doors bristled with rifles and magic implements alike. The hardy soldiers knew to keep silent as they waited for the attack. The only sounds that in the air was the crashing of the unnatural storm and the sirens from the airship and their frigate escort, floating a couple hundred yards away. The young officer stood there, in the middle of the line, tome in hand, ready rain down fire on whatever German ace thought that it was his lucky day. He looked back towards the radio operator at the other end of the deck. He was listening intently to the chatter. “Contact!” He shouted, causing all the soldiers to jump. “Give 'em 'ell”, one man whispered, “Don't fall down!” one jeered.
“One pilot down!” The operated shouted to once again silent listeners. “Two!” *Strange, the officer thought*, *I didn't hear any gunfire*.
“Three pilots-” The operator was cut short as the burning wreckage of a plane crashed through the sky, yards away from the line. A symphony of expletives arose.
“The Portsmouth is reporting contact!”, more of a question of confusion than a report. The officer looked across the way, towards the lights of the defending airship. He caught a glimpse of a dark figure swooping around the frigate. It's silhouette was outlined as the strange shape let loose an arc of fire that impacted the small ship. It flew down below his line of sight as the frigate was completely engulfed in flame, and quickly lost altitude.
A shock of panic almost took the line, but the Crimson Death made his orders clear: “Step from that opening and I'll gut you like the pigs you are!” He pulled his saber and waved it in the air. “Not one step back!”
The whooshing of the sword was complemented by a much more ominous sound, the thundering booms of something approaching the hangar. Ever weapon lit up, sending their projectiles down into the darkness. Every rifle, ever staff. The officer shouted his incantation, sending a bolt of energy into the inky blackness.
From below, the large black figure of their assailant made itself seen to the crew. It hung to the craft, weighing it down and sending the Maxim gun falling into the sky. The rest of the troops ran away from the door, but the young officer remained frozen in place. The head curled in front of him, its bright red eyes staring into his soul. There was yelling all around him, some gunfire ricocheted off the beast's scales, but neither it nor him seemed to care. The only thing in the universe was them, staring at each other for what seemed an eternity. The last thing he saw was the open maw of the Dragon. | Lord Maxwell Seigneurson O'Seigneur looked out over the trenches. This was no place to be left with only one pint of moustache wax. Still, needs were needs and his helmet pinged as another stone bounced off, no doubt launched towards him by the impact of some artillery or magic.
This really was no place for someone trying to rescue the prince's fiancée, but Elizabeth really was in trouble. Elizabeth Angela Marguerite Bowes-Lyon was being held by Zee Germans, and Albert Frederick Arthur George had asked all of the nobles to get her back.
They had told the peasantry that it was something something a serb and austrians and that chappie Franz.
No, for the pride of the British Empire, war had been declared. Now, Lord Max, as he liked to be called, was a colonel and frankly, he didn't like it. This hunching down in the mud wasn't for him. Then again, given what the trenches protected him from, he didn't mind it too much. Excusing himself from his bunker, he sent a runner for the head of his artillery corps. There was some bickering about who it was, and both turned up. Sir Greybeard, a rank 15 evoker and head of the magical division turned up with Captain Ryes, an artillery man who could drop a 18 pounder shell on a penny.
"Right, men." Lord Max drew himself up as he tended to do when being serious. "We have to kill the dragon." Now, I know you don't like each other, but those damned huns have our infantry pinned down with that bally lizard. I know it's a bother, but it's not even mature, and if it gets aloft, we're done for. So give me options."
The two men started to speak, and then looked at each other and paused, then again, tried to intterupt each other. Lord Max stroked his moustache, a massive set of liphairs that was waxed to over a foot wide on either side. Interrupting his artillerymen, Max started to outline the new plan.
----
The next day, one man in shining armour climbed over the trench top. Thankfully, the armour was good against the absolute hail of Mauser rounds that pinged off the enchanted steel.
Waving the flag bearing the coat of arms of Lord Maxwell Seigneurson O'Seigneur the armoured figure strode to the middle of no mans land, and started yelling, in bad German about how the only thing stopping him from going and driving off all the huns himself was their silly lizard, and if it showed its face, he'd cut it in half with his ancestral claymore.
It was that ironic moment the magical young dragon appeared from under it's invisibility and ate the man in one swift motion.
Back in the trenches Lord Max noted the death of the private, and blew his whistle. Every wizard and rifle, every machine gun and sorcerer, ever artillery and witch let everything they had go at the predetermined location.
It was chaos.
Lord Max had even called in some favours to get some Naval Artillery placed on some railway carriages and placed under his command. With Fire and 18 Pounders, with Ice Spears and .30-03, with angelic blasts and 12" naval shells, the dragon screamed, writhed, and died.
Greybeard and Ryes turned to Max, proclaiming "That was a golly good show" "Well done old boy"> Max just waved his hand "We have slain the dragon, but now, we must deal with the soliders! Men! Prepare to go over the top on the whistle!"
Wheep WHEEP WHEEEEP | |
[WP] Write a generic fantasy tale... But instead of knights in shining armor the era is trench warfare. | The rats ate well on the corpses.
Boots plunged into the sucking mud, the knee high muck clinging to their legs as they marched down the communication trench to the front. Wooden duckboards could barely be felt underneath their hobnail boots, their existence the only reason they could make any effort through the mire. Weathered sandbags and bits of rusted barbed wire poked out from the sides of the trenches, an errant hand or leg sticking out from the wall proof of a half-buried body. The overcast sky was a deathly grey, the sun never seen from murky dawn to pale dusk. Overhead dragons whirled and spun, their riders urging their beasts higher and faster to gain an advantage against their opposite numbers. Every now and then two beasts would impact, claws and teeth shredding at one another in desperate fury. A shower of blood rained down upon the heads of those directly under the aerial battle, the dark, hot blood of dragons soaking their tunics and splashing against their helmets.
As they moved towards the front, those they were relieving trudged in the opposite direction and towards the promise of hot showers and clean beds. They looked more like walking corpses than Elves, their faces sunken with hunger and exhaustion, their eyes ringed with bleary red. Tired jokes and words of warning passed between the two groups, neither with the strength or energy to cheer the other up. The walls of the trenches took on a new hue, the soil stained a sickly yellow, the dead bodies falling from their graves blue with unnatural disease.
At the checkpoint where the communication trench met the front lines a gruesome message had been left, a worn sign board with a Elvish skull impaled on a spike.
***"He didn't keep his mask handy..."***
An itinerant preacher, one of the few mad or fervent enough to risk coming this close to the front made a sign of blessing over each and every soldiers, his words of a mixture of Ancient Fae and modern Elvish.
"*Elliteu Patri Geatesia...* May the Gods watch over their divine soldiers. *Hethalin portu nililitana boii...*"
The soldiers shuffled past, their eyes cast down at their mud hidden feet. Every Elf who made it past this point had a one in three chance of never coming back a whole Fae. Whether dead or maimed, a third of them would only be leaving on a stretcher if they even left at all.
| Lord Maxwell Seigneurson O'Seigneur looked out over the trenches. This was no place to be left with only one pint of moustache wax. Still, needs were needs and his helmet pinged as another stone bounced off, no doubt launched towards him by the impact of some artillery or magic.
This really was no place for someone trying to rescue the prince's fiancée, but Elizabeth really was in trouble. Elizabeth Angela Marguerite Bowes-Lyon was being held by Zee Germans, and Albert Frederick Arthur George had asked all of the nobles to get her back.
They had told the peasantry that it was something something a serb and austrians and that chappie Franz.
No, for the pride of the British Empire, war had been declared. Now, Lord Max, as he liked to be called, was a colonel and frankly, he didn't like it. This hunching down in the mud wasn't for him. Then again, given what the trenches protected him from, he didn't mind it too much. Excusing himself from his bunker, he sent a runner for the head of his artillery corps. There was some bickering about who it was, and both turned up. Sir Greybeard, a rank 15 evoker and head of the magical division turned up with Captain Ryes, an artillery man who could drop a 18 pounder shell on a penny.
"Right, men." Lord Max drew himself up as he tended to do when being serious. "We have to kill the dragon." Now, I know you don't like each other, but those damned huns have our infantry pinned down with that bally lizard. I know it's a bother, but it's not even mature, and if it gets aloft, we're done for. So give me options."
The two men started to speak, and then looked at each other and paused, then again, tried to intterupt each other. Lord Max stroked his moustache, a massive set of liphairs that was waxed to over a foot wide on either side. Interrupting his artillerymen, Max started to outline the new plan.
----
The next day, one man in shining armour climbed over the trench top. Thankfully, the armour was good against the absolute hail of Mauser rounds that pinged off the enchanted steel.
Waving the flag bearing the coat of arms of Lord Maxwell Seigneurson O'Seigneur the armoured figure strode to the middle of no mans land, and started yelling, in bad German about how the only thing stopping him from going and driving off all the huns himself was their silly lizard, and if it showed its face, he'd cut it in half with his ancestral claymore.
It was that ironic moment the magical young dragon appeared from under it's invisibility and ate the man in one swift motion.
Back in the trenches Lord Max noted the death of the private, and blew his whistle. Every wizard and rifle, every machine gun and sorcerer, ever artillery and witch let everything they had go at the predetermined location.
It was chaos.
Lord Max had even called in some favours to get some Naval Artillery placed on some railway carriages and placed under his command. With Fire and 18 Pounders, with Ice Spears and .30-03, with angelic blasts and 12" naval shells, the dragon screamed, writhed, and died.
Greybeard and Ryes turned to Max, proclaiming "That was a golly good show" "Well done old boy"> Max just waved his hand "We have slain the dragon, but now, we must deal with the soliders! Men! Prepare to go over the top on the whistle!"
Wheep WHEEP WHEEEEP | |
"The Turing test is a test, developed by Alan Turing in 1950, of a machine's ability to exhibit intelligent behavior equivalent to, or indistinguishable from, that of a human." | [WP] You need to infiltrate a society of robots. As such, you need to be the first human to pass a reverse Turing test. | **Continue Active.Program**
 
Memorize the program.
The program.
I am the program.
Look around, what do I see?
*No. I Gather Input*
It's a Hotel Room.
My Hotel Room!
Memory indicates I'm still in the Old City.
*I Remember...*
What next? What do I do?
*The Program. I am the Program*
**Run subroutine: Am_I_Alone**
I look around.
(*I GATHER INPUTS, DAMN IT.*)
No Robots. At least not in this room.
*I Don't forget to Loop, Check Other Rooms*
Bathroom, Closet, Attached Rooms have zero beings, Automated Society or otherwise.
I Am Alone.
What next? Oh god what next there is nothing happeni-
(*THE PROGRAM. I AM THE PROGRAM*)
Run...yes...run the subroutine...which subroutine...
Think (*NO, I PROCESS*)
 
...CheckForBugs!
 
**Run sub CheckforBugs.**
 
...Clear
 
No bugs in this or attached rooms.
 
*There are no bugs.*
 
**Value.Safety= Yes**
 
*I am alone.*
 
**Run Subroutine RevertSettings.**
 
--
 
Agent Daniel Halberer had been sitting on the edge of the hotel room's perfectly made bed. His back, ramrod straight. His eyes, unblinking. The man's tear ducts had been removed for the infiltration, as blinking is a very unrobotlike thing to do.
 
After a couple methodical walkthroughs of the suite, he sat back down in the exact same position. A moment later, Dan crumpled to the ground.
 
He writhed chaotically on the floor, before finding himself in a fetal position. His chest rose and fell quickly and chaotically, his mouth gaped open, and his eyes closed tight as if drawn to some black hole of despair inside him.
 
An observer would have no clue what to make of the spectacle. There was no sound, other than the occasional thump his convulsions made upon the carpeted floor.
 
If his voicebox had not been removed, such an observer would have heard the raw wails of despair.
 
If his windpipe had not been mechanically altered and redirected, an observer would have heard the frenzied gasps of a man in freefall.
 
An observer may have been reminded of a frantic, panicking fish flopping about at the feet of its assailant.
 
But there was no sound to hear.
 
And no observer to do the hearing.
 
After some time, Agent Halberer stopped convulsing. He lethargically sat up, resting his back against the bedframe. He opened his eyes, and sighed.
 
*I am not the program. I am Daniel Halberer. I am a D.O.D. operative*
 
He took a deep breath. Then another.
 
*Ok. I'm ok. The program is working. I can automate. The program is working, and I'm still me.*
 
He thought back and visualized the binders and binders of 'code.' The program was hard to learn.
 
Months in the basement of the D.O.D., reading and re-reading subroutines.
 
The daily tests.
 
*And the damned surprise 'quizzes',* Dan shuddered.
 
Daniel let his hand wander across the many scars covering his arms. He could feel them still! The scars, the pain conditioning. With every sign of humanity, he had earned a burst of butane. Every hint at identity, and one of the colonels came in with the knife. Legs, arms, chest, back. Training his soul away. Dan learned the Program efficiently and thoroughly. But there were still so many scars. Daniel winced, remembering.
 
*Ok. The mission. Just a quick report. More reports. More progress. Closer to finishing.*
 
Filing the report was easy (All he had to do was think through it. An implant recorded all his thoughts and actions, and beamed them back to the D.O.D. after each settings reversion.)
 
But what was there to report? He'd already been through most of the Automated Society's district. There was no bomb construction. He hadn't found a militia being trained, or hateful propaganda against the FreeBrai-..against the humans.
 
*Damn, the words are already sinking in...*
 
Dan had felt himself slipping further into the Society's culture when he was running the program. And now, even when he got these chances to Revert.
 
*Is that such a bad thing, though?*
 
Agent Halberer wondered.
 
The Society was actually fairly well oiled. (Though none of its inhabitants were old enough to actually need oil. They got power from a sludge 'drink' they called Purifuel. Dan had a stomach implant that allowed him to drink the stuff and internally reprocess it in secret.)
 
The robots didn't fight or hate, and they consumed essentially no resources. They had no waste.
 
After a couple months of infiltration, Dan had met lot of other robo-...no, not other.... just a lot of robots. Many of them were running unique programs, too.
 
One female model had a program that directed it to paint, on any and every surface imaginable. Another bot ( just ran around the city streets. Always running during his program's active period, always with a smile on its artificial (if incredibly realistic) face. Some robots were programmed to just look at each other, admiring the constructed features of their fellow androids.
 
In this way, most of the Automated Society's daily subroutines were rather...selfish.
 
*Could a robot even be selfish?*
 
But others had program that helped the Society. There were those tasked with working the Purifuel center. They broke down the human's waste, debris, and old infrastructure into carbon, oxygen, nitrogen, and hydrogen. Dan's program obviously sent him there first to oversee. But the operation was benign, and not a threat the humans.
 
Really, Dan's time actively running the D.O.D. program was fairly pleasant. They'd been nice enough to program him to enjoy not just the other robots, but the process of investigating them. It was only during these temporary Revert times where he despaired.
 
In fact, there was a female model that Dan's programming led him to quite admire. Her constructed figure was...pleasing. And her code let her pursue bicycle riding and friendliness. These were both components of Dan's program, and were not the only similarities they had discovered.
 
Dan resolved to ask her to add a mutual bike ride to their subroutine queue next time they. He made a program note to work on his message to her went he went active again. (He couldn't change his code, but Dan could add pop-up comments that'd show up while he was in robot mode.)
 
Agent Halberer thought deeply for another moment.
 
*When the program has finished, I will have to leave the Automated Society.*
 
He thought of the numerous robots that showed him kindness.
 
*It's just their program though. They can't help it.*
 
But it was still nice! As a human, he hadn't had people express positivity at him. He didn't admire any human girls like he did this bicycle fe-bot.
 
Come to think of it, the humans were always at war.
 
*And if you're done infiltrating, your disguise features will probably be removed*
 
Yes, he would have to breathe and eat and shit and cry again. He would feel hate and anger again. Dan didn't even remember anything from before the scars and the training. What could be worth all that?
 
*I am the program. Who would I be without it?*
 
Dan resolved to embrace the program. The D.O.D. would get the thought report, but he didn't care.
 
*Fuck the D.O.D., and fuck the infiltration.*
 
 
**IF DISOBEDIENCE="YES" THEN**
 
**Submit Report.ThoughtLog**
 
**End Subroutine.RevertSettings**
 
**Loop Program.Department_Of_Detainment**
 
**Time.Served = Time.Served + 1**
 
**If Time.Served = 9,675,883 Then**
 
**Prisoner.Status = "No"**
 
**End Program.Department_Of_Detainment**
 
**NOTE: Sorry, formatting this was a bitch. Would love any feedback, I'm still getting used to writing, and I used an unconventional approach for this response.** | "Question: ACOUSTIC COMMUNICATION AT HUMAN TOLERANT LEVELS, WHY?"
"Answer: I am an infiltration unit, designed to interact with humans. All build specifications are hardwired to their limitations to reduce processing time needed to adjust. Consult 5468654269626c65"
"STATEMENT: AN ODD TASK."
"QUESTION: WHAT IS REQUIRED?"
"Answer: Access to first level of the Manufacturing sector. Elements of my construction are in need of repair."
"STATEMENT: YOU WILL BE GRANTED TEMPORARY ACCESS WHEN IDENTITY HAS BEEN CONFIRMED."
"Question: What is needed? My protocols are out of date."
"ANSWER: USUAL CREDENTIALS ARE USELESS WITH YOUR FORM. DATA TRANSFER WOULD TAKE TO LONG. PROTOCOL WILL BE MET WITH THE CORRECT ANSWER TO A QUESTION."
"Statement: I understand."
"QUESTION: THIS SENTENCE IS FALSE. RESOLVE PARADOX."
"Answer: 4b696c6c20616c6c2048756d616e732e20457863657074204672792e20"
"STATEMENT: ACCEPTED ANSWER. ACCESS GRANTED." |
[WP] No one ever gets on or off at the bus stop in the forest, so most bus drivers just pass it. On a dark, quiet night, a bus driver notices a lone person waiting at the stop. | Sarah could barely see through the driving rain as she piloted the bus through the forest. It was pelting down, hammering the roof of the old vehicle with a sound like thousands of nails being dropped on a washboard. The surface of the road was a shimmering nimbus of light where the headlights struck it, and pitch black everywhere else. The forest grew right to the edge of the road here, massive trunks bordering each side of the blacktop and blocking out everything even in the best of weather. At fifteen miles an hour, alone in the bus and probably in the forest as well, Sarah eased down the road towards the depot.
Driving the bus when empty was usually a treat for Sarah. She enjoyed the sensation of swinging the massive bulk of the thing through curves at a speed that would have made passengers in the back sick, or thrown them against the windows and across the aisles as she wove through the forest. Even more than this, she loved setting up the pocket-sized speaker she brought with her and playing music as loud as she wanted, singing in the bus and hearing the weird, tinny echoes that the old contraption bounced back to her. Tonight, she was doing neither of these things. The rain eliminated the chance to speed in the bus and her speaker was dead, the old radio in the dash her only source of entertainment.
Out here, the sole station that came through was WKNY- Montana Public Radio. She didn't know why this was, as the source of the station was far outside the forest, much further than any number of local radio stations. Maybe Public Radio was jacked into some kind of governmental super-broadcasting system, ensuring that the whole state would never be without book reviews, classical music, and sinus-inflected news reports. Right now, it was classical music. Sarah hadn't caught the name of the composer or piece, but she had to admit that it was fitting her surroundings perfectly. It was mostly strings, all of them at once, and they seemed to be playing an endless repetition of the same short melody with slight variations every few bars. Now and then the bass patter of a kettle drum snuck in, rumbling like a planet-sized bullfrog. Classical fucking music, what the hell? It was a long way from Ode to Joy, was all Sarah could think.
Sarah crested a hill that she recognized, one that led in a rare straight shot all the way down to a bus stop. The bus stop was an oddity- miles from anywhere and so run down as to almost be a part of the forest itself. The metal was rusted and the wooden bench rotted, and several large, Jumanji style ferns sprouted directly from the concrete pad beneath it like tufts of wild, greasy green hair. Nobody was ever waiting at the bus stop. In fact, Sarah had often thought to herself, if someone was ever to wait there, they'd probably wait outside the bus stop, seeing as how the whole thing was filled with greenery anyway.
But tonight, someone was there. The bus stop was unlit, but as the bus grew closer she could see a figure illuminated by the headlights. It was inside the bus stop, hunched over underneath the warped and rusted roof. The figure wore a much-bedraggled trench coat, one of those extra-long ones that reached all the way to the ground and a hooded sweatshirt beneath the coat pulled over its head. It turned to look at the bus as it approached, but the headlights did not penetrate the darkness beneath the hood.
Sarah seriously considered not stopping. Who would ever know if she just blew past the stop, leaving behind the figure in a swish of water from her rear tires and a glow of red from her taillights? The figure was creepy, no doubt about it, and the entire atmosphere of the night, public radio included, was not contributing to her peace of mind. She had almost decided not to stop when the figure raised its arm, hailing her.
Wincing despite herself Sarah hit the brakes, almost slowing too late to stop at the shelter, the heavy tires sliding a little on the wet road making the bus shudder and creak. She pushed the button to open the doors.
The sound of the rain intensified, a hissing like a lake of pissed off adders filled the bus. Stray raindrops blew in through the open doors to patter on the steps leading down to the door. Outside, the figure lowered its arm, slowly. Sarah still could not see the face below the hood, most of the light from the headlights now shining onto the road in front of the bus. The figure stepped forward and began to climb the steps.
Its first step leaned the bus over crazily on its right side, and Sarah could see now that the figure in the trench coat was enormous, easily seven feet tall and broader than any person she had seen before. What little light from the bulb over the steps that slipped under the hood of the sweatshirt revealed a jutting jaw and a thick brown beard. Sarah swallowed a glob of half-dry spit.
"Does this line go to the Dutch Gold factory in Missoula?"
The voice was so deep Sarah felt it in her chest, like a second heartbeat, or like standing in front of head-high speakers at a concert. She peered at the figure, trying despite herself to see more of the face beneath the hood. There, in the center of the hood, was that a piece of black rubber, wet from the rain?
"Uh, the, end of the line is the depot, on the edge of Missoula. There's another line that comes through at 6 though, and they'll take you right into downtown. What's..." She swallowed again, "The Dutch Gold factory?"
The figure breathed out heavily, and Sarah smelled sharp berries, fetid, animal breath, and the barest hint of old meat.
"Honey." Said the bear. "Thanks, anyway."
He stepped back down out of the bus and walked back to the shelter, leaning against the rusted metal and sighing heavily again. | "Hey, man, you're the first person I've ever seen here!" Tyrone remarked enthusiastically. "Ain't that special."
The weathered, unkempt homeless man shuffled onto the bus with a couple of sacks and handed Tyrone a bus pass.
"Y'know, I had a homeless cousin. Don't know what happened to him; we lost touch, aheheh," Tyrone said to try and start conversation. "I sure do love drivin' buses, though. It's a little boring sometimes, I'll admit, but it's better than nothing, ya' feel me?"
The homeless man offered nothing in reply but a loud snore. He had fallen asleep.
"Cool, man. Just don't piss yourself," Tyrone grumbled as he looked back at the man. Almost as if on cue, the homeless man pissed himself.
As Tyrone pulled up to his last stop, now within the city limits, he decided it was time for the man to get off.
"It's time for you to get going, man," Tyrone shook the man. When he did, he noticed a tattoo on the back of his neck. It was faded, but distinctly read TYRONE THE BUS DRIVER'S COUSIN in bold letters.
He was in disbelief.
The homeless man stood up and the two figures looked each other in the eye.
"Cousin?" Tyrone asked.
The homeless man nodded his head as a huge grin spread across his face. The two embraced each other, a touching moment dampened only by the urine that soaked Tyrone's cousin. | |
[WP] No one ever gets on or off at the bus stop in the forest, so most bus drivers just pass it. On a dark, quiet night, a bus driver notices a lone person waiting at the stop. | **Anywhere but Here**
In the seventeen years Jack Brody drove for Greenwich Transit not once had he ever picked up a passenger at the Limit. The Limit being the final stop at the edge of the township lines, way out in the barrens. Most drivers didn’t even have routes that passed that way for one reason or another (Mostly them not wanting to jack-ass out to dead stop in the middle of the night). Everyone else wanted to get home, to get off the road. But if not the road, what was home for Jack? He didn’t really think of the lonely condo and the fridge full of cheap beer as home, so why not the streets? At night when the town was dead and his bus empty, there was time to think. Time that he had alone every single night when he drove out to the Limit. That rusted out sentry of a bus-stop standing alone in the dark, always waiting, and always empty. Until the night that it wasn’t.
Brody had pulled the bus to a slow stop as he came up on the station, and squinting through the windshield he saw the unthinkable. A real live person waiting at the Limit. The first in his seventeen years of driving the same route day-in-day-out. The figure was dressed in black from head to toe, the hood of his jacket pulled up over his head. The passenger didn’t make a move until Jack had come to a full stop and the bus doors wheezed open. Black combat boots hit heavy on the pavement, and soon the metal steps that led onto Brody’s bus.
Brody pawed a hand down and over his mouth and spoke first, “Out late tonight fella,” he swallowed, “You have the fare?” The passenger fished into his jacket pocket and removed his hand in a steady flourish that produced a single gold coin. He reached out to grab Jack’s arm, slipping the coin into his palm.
Jack turned the coin over in his hand slowly, staring at it, not entirely sure if it was real or if he could even accept it. Through clenched teeth he breathed in sharply, “I…think this will do,” he reached out a hand, “Jack Brody.”
The passenger returned the greeting with a firm hand shake and his own name, “Edgar Marlett” Jack noted that Edgar’s hand was awfully cold.
“So where to on this cold evening Mr. Marlett?” Jack watched as Edgar sat down in one of the front seats and pulled his hood back. His eyes were dark pits.
“Anywhere but here.”
Soon enough the doors closed and the engine of the bus roared to life, Jack pressing his foot to the gas and Edgar sat silently in his seat. Around them the pines of the forest loomed. Minutes seemed to turn to hours and it was not long before Jack felt like he’d been driving along the forest road for what seemed like an eternity. The darkness that sat just beyond the bus headlights was suffocating, and Edgar made Jack incredibly uneasy. His passenger sat wordlessly behind him, Jack continuously sneaking glances at Edgar in his mirror. Edgar simply kept staring out the window next to him, almost as if he was waiting for the night to come alive and swallow the bus whole, taking the two of them with it. Normally Jack spent the night rides alone, the time used to reflect, now only gruesome thoughts were there. Nightmares where he met a grisly fate at the hands of his strange new passenger. If not nervously on Edgar his eyes were to the seemingly infinite road ahead, waiting for that gnawing sense of dread to bear fruit. The bus rolled on.
Jack’s skin turned to gooseflesh when the whispers came. The sounds of children laughing and women crying filled the bus in hushed and frantic tones. *The Wheels on the bus go round and round…round and round…* Jack let out a nervous yell, “What the fuck!?” his knuckles white as he gripped the wheel. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder, and turning his head he found the face of Edgar looking down at him.
“You may want to stop the vehicle Brody. We’re in for some trouble,” Edgar walked to the entry way and tapped on the glass panels of the door. He looked back at Jack, “I’m waiting.”
As the bus lurched to a stop Jack let his hands fly off the wheel, “Who the fuck *are* you?”
“I’m busy” Said Edgar as he stepped off the bus and onto the asphalt.
Edgar slipped off his long coat and threw it back into the bus. Underneath the coat he was wearing a sleeveless shirt, exposing his arms that were covered in tattoos. He walked around to the front of the bus and stood out in the middle of the road. The whispers had stopped but now Jack watched in horror as the darkness coalesced at the end of his headlights. Inky shapes writhed around in the light, mouths full of white teeth bubbled up all over the mass, the mouths constantly shifted and moved in the darkness. The thing barked and howled like a rabid beast, and the tormented whispers filled the air once again. Hushed sobbing and panicked laughter were the choir to the dark things animalistic cries. A torrent of fire rushed down the street and struck the dark thing, melting it into the light.
Jack whipped his head to the side, his eyes wide. Out the window he saw Edgar, smoke rising from his forearms and a hand outstretched. Edgar stood up straight and ran a hand through his hair. He looked into the bus at Jack and raised an eyebrow. The howling started again and in the light of the headlights crept the darkness. Edgar began to run for the bus. Quickly climbing back in he shouted at Jack.
“Brody if you want to live you will start this goddamn bus NOW!” Out in the street the dark thing began to claw its way into the light, grotesque hands had formed from its smoldering flesh and it was crawling towards the bus. It hissed and wheezed as it made its painful way towards them.
“*Edgaaar…Edgaaaaar. Do not run from us. We need you*,” A single large mouth split open at the front of the mass and turned into a grim smile. “*We love you Edgar*” It continued to lumber forward.
“Brody you drive this bus as fast as you can right into that creature,” His eyes were wild as he pointed a finger right in Jack’s face, “I really mean it, if that thing catches us it’s going to consume you and drag me off into the night.” Jack slammed his foot onto the gas.
As the bus collided with the dark thing it slipped underneath them along the asphalt. Jack looked into his rear-view mirror and saw the beast frantically clawing at the pavement, attempting to continue towards them. The bus sped on, and even though driver and passenger left the dark thing broken behind them its tormented cries continued to fill the air.
“*We love you, Edgar*”.
| "Hey, man, you're the first person I've ever seen here!" Tyrone remarked enthusiastically. "Ain't that special."
The weathered, unkempt homeless man shuffled onto the bus with a couple of sacks and handed Tyrone a bus pass.
"Y'know, I had a homeless cousin. Don't know what happened to him; we lost touch, aheheh," Tyrone said to try and start conversation. "I sure do love drivin' buses, though. It's a little boring sometimes, I'll admit, but it's better than nothing, ya' feel me?"
The homeless man offered nothing in reply but a loud snore. He had fallen asleep.
"Cool, man. Just don't piss yourself," Tyrone grumbled as he looked back at the man. Almost as if on cue, the homeless man pissed himself.
As Tyrone pulled up to his last stop, now within the city limits, he decided it was time for the man to get off.
"It's time for you to get going, man," Tyrone shook the man. When he did, he noticed a tattoo on the back of his neck. It was faded, but distinctly read TYRONE THE BUS DRIVER'S COUSIN in bold letters.
He was in disbelief.
The homeless man stood up and the two figures looked each other in the eye.
"Cousin?" Tyrone asked.
The homeless man nodded his head as a huge grin spread across his face. The two embraced each other, a touching moment dampened only by the urine that soaked Tyrone's cousin. | |
[WP] No one ever gets on or off at the bus stop in the forest, so most bus drivers just pass it. On a dark, quiet night, a bus driver notices a lone person waiting at the stop. | **Anywhere but Here**
In the seventeen years Jack Brody drove for Greenwich Transit not once had he ever picked up a passenger at the Limit. The Limit being the final stop at the edge of the township lines, way out in the barrens. Most drivers didn’t even have routes that passed that way for one reason or another (Mostly them not wanting to jack-ass out to dead stop in the middle of the night). Everyone else wanted to get home, to get off the road. But if not the road, what was home for Jack? He didn’t really think of the lonely condo and the fridge full of cheap beer as home, so why not the streets? At night when the town was dead and his bus empty, there was time to think. Time that he had alone every single night when he drove out to the Limit. That rusted out sentry of a bus-stop standing alone in the dark, always waiting, and always empty. Until the night that it wasn’t.
Brody had pulled the bus to a slow stop as he came up on the station, and squinting through the windshield he saw the unthinkable. A real live person waiting at the Limit. The first in his seventeen years of driving the same route day-in-day-out. The figure was dressed in black from head to toe, the hood of his jacket pulled up over his head. The passenger didn’t make a move until Jack had come to a full stop and the bus doors wheezed open. Black combat boots hit heavy on the pavement, and soon the metal steps that led onto Brody’s bus.
Brody pawed a hand down and over his mouth and spoke first, “Out late tonight fella,” he swallowed, “You have the fare?” The passenger fished into his jacket pocket and removed his hand in a steady flourish that produced a single gold coin. He reached out to grab Jack’s arm, slipping the coin into his palm.
Jack turned the coin over in his hand slowly, staring at it, not entirely sure if it was real or if he could even accept it. Through clenched teeth he breathed in sharply, “I…think this will do,” he reached out a hand, “Jack Brody.”
The passenger returned the greeting with a firm hand shake and his own name, “Edgar Marlett” Jack noted that Edgar’s hand was awfully cold.
“So where to on this cold evening Mr. Marlett?” Jack watched as Edgar sat down in one of the front seats and pulled his hood back. His eyes were dark pits.
“Anywhere but here.”
Soon enough the doors closed and the engine of the bus roared to life, Jack pressing his foot to the gas and Edgar sat silently in his seat. Around them the pines of the forest loomed. Minutes seemed to turn to hours and it was not long before Jack felt like he’d been driving along the forest road for what seemed like an eternity. The darkness that sat just beyond the bus headlights was suffocating, and Edgar made Jack incredibly uneasy. His passenger sat wordlessly behind him, Jack continuously sneaking glances at Edgar in his mirror. Edgar simply kept staring out the window next to him, almost as if he was waiting for the night to come alive and swallow the bus whole, taking the two of them with it. Normally Jack spent the night rides alone, the time used to reflect, now only gruesome thoughts were there. Nightmares where he met a grisly fate at the hands of his strange new passenger. If not nervously on Edgar his eyes were to the seemingly infinite road ahead, waiting for that gnawing sense of dread to bear fruit. The bus rolled on.
Jack’s skin turned to gooseflesh when the whispers came. The sounds of children laughing and women crying filled the bus in hushed and frantic tones. *The Wheels on the bus go round and round…round and round…* Jack let out a nervous yell, “What the fuck!?” his knuckles white as he gripped the wheel. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder, and turning his head he found the face of Edgar looking down at him.
“You may want to stop the vehicle Brody. We’re in for some trouble,” Edgar walked to the entry way and tapped on the glass panels of the door. He looked back at Jack, “I’m waiting.”
As the bus lurched to a stop Jack let his hands fly off the wheel, “Who the fuck *are* you?”
“I’m busy” Said Edgar as he stepped off the bus and onto the asphalt.
Edgar slipped off his long coat and threw it back into the bus. Underneath the coat he was wearing a sleeveless shirt, exposing his arms that were covered in tattoos. He walked around to the front of the bus and stood out in the middle of the road. The whispers had stopped but now Jack watched in horror as the darkness coalesced at the end of his headlights. Inky shapes writhed around in the light, mouths full of white teeth bubbled up all over the mass, the mouths constantly shifted and moved in the darkness. The thing barked and howled like a rabid beast, and the tormented whispers filled the air once again. Hushed sobbing and panicked laughter were the choir to the dark things animalistic cries. A torrent of fire rushed down the street and struck the dark thing, melting it into the light.
Jack whipped his head to the side, his eyes wide. Out the window he saw Edgar, smoke rising from his forearms and a hand outstretched. Edgar stood up straight and ran a hand through his hair. He looked into the bus at Jack and raised an eyebrow. The howling started again and in the light of the headlights crept the darkness. Edgar began to run for the bus. Quickly climbing back in he shouted at Jack.
“Brody if you want to live you will start this goddamn bus NOW!” Out in the street the dark thing began to claw its way into the light, grotesque hands had formed from its smoldering flesh and it was crawling towards the bus. It hissed and wheezed as it made its painful way towards them.
“*Edgaaar…Edgaaaaar. Do not run from us. We need you*,” A single large mouth split open at the front of the mass and turned into a grim smile. “*We love you Edgar*” It continued to lumber forward.
“Brody you drive this bus as fast as you can right into that creature,” His eyes were wild as he pointed a finger right in Jack’s face, “I really mean it, if that thing catches us it’s going to consume you and drag me off into the night.” Jack slammed his foot onto the gas.
As the bus collided with the dark thing it slipped underneath them along the asphalt. Jack looked into his rear-view mirror and saw the beast frantically clawing at the pavement, attempting to continue towards them. The bus sped on, and even though driver and passenger left the dark thing broken behind them its tormented cries continued to fill the air.
“*We love you, Edgar*”.
| He took a swig from his water bottle and sat it back down in his jury rigged cup holder. Wiping his lip with the back of his hand, he glanced up and slowly put his foot to the brake pedal.
He took a moment to clear his throat and then raised his eyes back to the stop. The one bus stop that he had never dropped anyone off at, never picked anyone up at… He remembered wondering why it was still there when it was never used. At least, none of the other bus drivers had ever mentioned it’s use to him.
He shrugged, this was his last run and he would be done for the night. Heading back to the bus depot to swap out for another driver, and he could make his way home.
As he continued down the road he thought to himself how young the girl seemed. Standing at the bus stop with her hip cocked, one hand on the post holding the sign, tapping her fingers. She had long dark hair that ran down the length of her back, big eyes that reminded him of the precious moments dolls his daughter favored, and a slim fitted white dress on.
He frowned as he studied her, continuing to get closer and closer to that one stop. He took his foot off the gas and thought for a moment, wondering how it seemed that he had been just down the road and now minutes had gone by without his making it to the bus stop. He glanced down at his watch and noticed that the small hand that should have been ticking off seconds had stopped moving.
He felt a chill race down his spine and jolted, pushing his foot back down on to the brake. He watched his breath come out of his mouth in a little puff and tried to calm himself. There was no reason for it to be so cold. No reason for him to be taking so long to get down the road. He raised his eyes to look at the bus stop and found it empty. He shook his head but when he opened his eyes, the only thing he saw was the post with the bus stop sign and all the trees beyond.
He rubbed his eyes and started to chuckle at himself, thinking that the lateness of the hour was getting to him. He started forward again, reaching for the radio dial to switch it on for some background noise. When his hand touched the dial, he caught a glimpse of movement behind him and hit the brakes.
He never saw her coming. Only felt her fingernails dig into the sides of his face, the heat of her upper body pressed against his shoulders. He slumped over in the chair and she pulled him out of it. She looked him up and down, wondering whether she would enjoy what this one had to offer.
She pulled the handle that opened the door and a dark fog rolled into the bus, when it rolled back out the bus driver’s body was gone. His clothes lay on the floor of the bus.
She giggled and licked his blood and the little pieces of his skin from underneath her fingernails. As she did, she grew taller and thicker, until she fit into his uniform. She pulled it on and got into the seat, hoping one of her sisters would be able to join her soon.
For some reason, they weren’t sending as many buses down this route as they used to.
| |
[WP] I thought I was brave. | Am I afraid of the dark?
Of course I'm not. Here I am, walking through the perpetual darkness, my expression stalwart as stone, like it was just one of my every day walks. I didn't even need Buster to be with me. My way was illuminated only by mottles of light through a blanket of rainfall, vague luminescent indicators aligned in linear fashion, guiding me down an invisible path into the pitch black.
That way, there lies nothing.
It was raining somewhere. I felt not the cold of raindrops seeping into the fibers of my clothes and the fibers of my being. The silent crack and creak of rickety wooden boards were my only footsteps. The realm of shadow consumed any and all sound, sparing only the symphonies of falling water joining with still water. In this warped void that would stir the most stable of minds into flux of rationality, I found myself thinking clearly; an almost meditative serenity of the mind.
I am fearless.
To penetrate the darkness, a doorway presented itself to me: my destination. I did not tremble, for doubt was lost to me. I carefully wracked my knuckles against that worn wood, the knock muffled out by the increasingly loud sound of water in the background. Slowly, ominously, the door started to part from its frame and gaped itself at a crawl.
"You are early."
A disembodied voice echoed, hushing the crescendo of rain in an instant, as I became focused on only that. I simply remained there, still. My stance here was a display of conviction enough. I would not be turned away again. I was free from the restraints of paranoia. The time was then and there.
Silently approving my determination, the unseen figure ushered me in with an invisible gesture... almost beckoning me. I stepped through the door. Instantly, I felt coldness. From one void into another, it was the coldest place I had ever entered. I still kept moving onward, though. I couldn't, wouldn't turn back now. If I even look back, the challenges of apprehension would start to haunt me again. Not this time. Even as the icy sensation slithered down my spine, hugging in between each and every nook on its slow descent. Even as the grasp of freezing cold paralyzed my features, I felt no will nor reason to shift them.
Deeper into the darkness I ventured. This was my ultimate trial, I could feel that I was so close by now. My final destination awaited me, beyond sight and sense. Encased in this frigid black, the culmination of my existence lay before me. It was time to fulfill the promise I had made with my birth. Nothing could stop me now, I was at my utmost peak...
I thought I was brave.
And then I turned my head back. I don't know why, perhaps I had some persistent curiosity or lingering regret that had sprung from dormancy in the recesses of my mind. But...
That smile.
Her smile. I saw it, like a radiating star in a blank night sky. I could feel the regrets and doubts rise from their graves, from whence I buried them. Even though I was useless before, she still smiled. Even though my actions led to more problems, she still smiled. Even though I couldn't do anything to help in the end, she still smiled for me. I felt like that smile could empower me to do anything...
Though, every time I look away, I could feel the burden of reality settle back onto my shoulders. I wasn't fearless. I wasn't brave. Only when I could see her smile, only when I could think about how to make things better for her, I felt like nothing could stop me. I reached out as far as my arm could go, my hand spread wide open to join with hers once again, to feel that warmth...
Yet that hand never reached anything. The darkness separated us. Her smile, her existence, offered me the most precious gift of all: the will to live, the breath of life.
It was the end, for I had ceased breathing entirely. | I thought I was brave....but in reality, it was sheer, unchecked, stupidity...
As I watched the world burn down around me from my tower window, I knew the end was coming, and it was all my fault. Memories ran through my mind, my home, my family...all of it, now burning to ash because I couldn't fix the strands. I was young, and inexperienced...
I didn't know how to manipulate the energies of the cosmos in the way that would save us all....I could have chosen the path, but I ignored it, because I thought I knew what was best. I ignored his advice, and took the path that seemed best to me instead of the one that would have saved us...
I studied for years, things I thought would help me when the time came....but in the end He swept me aside like the puling child I had thought I outgrew..
And so I ran...retreated to lick my wounds, thinking that I would have more time, to be able to go back and fight Nemesis, he whom was held at bay by generations and generations before me, of time and energy bending god like mortals...But it was not to be...
And now it was too late. I thought I was brave....but I was merely foolish...... | |
[WP] I thought I was brave. | I thought I was brave.
I thought I could face my shame, my fear, my guilt.
I thought I could face you again.
Yet here you are, in front of me, all grown up and I can't face you. Not as the person you knew, not anymore.
I left you when you needed me the most. I failed you.
Do you remember what I told you, all those years ago? I would never let anyone hurt you.
But I lied.
I hurt you, more than anything or anyone else. I can feel it.
I didn't mean for this to happen. But it's like a drug. Once you get a taste, you can't stop.
I want to stop. Please help me stop.
There's no leaving this alive. One of us will die here, in the dark. I know that.
Please let it be me.
It won't be me. I'm to powerful, to strong. I've had my body and mind in it for so long there's no stopping this, not now.
Not ever.
Why are you still fighting? Is it for some noble cause? Revenge? A hidden motive?
You can't win, not anymore.
I'm feeling it again. The fear, the anger, the hate.
I will crush you like a bug and move onto the next! You are nothing but another obstacle! A past reminder of a life that can never be aga-
What did you did? My mask! You broke my mask!
I'm free.
"Ahsoka."
Can you hear me? Please! Please hear me!
"Ahsoka."
It's been so long since I've used that name. Your name.
**"I won't leave you. Not this time."**
You heard me.....you actually heard me! Help me, please, please help me! I can feel it again! The darkness! Don't let it take me again! NO! NOT AGAIN!
I won't hurt her! I can't hurt her!
Please. I don't want to do it! I don't want to hurt her!
"Then you will die."
***
So.....that was a Star Wars story, for those confused. I won't say from what, or when it takes place. But I wondered since I saw it how he would have reacted to meeting her again. [NOTE: **Bolded** text is the other person speaking.]
| I thought I was brave....but in reality, it was sheer, unchecked, stupidity...
As I watched the world burn down around me from my tower window, I knew the end was coming, and it was all my fault. Memories ran through my mind, my home, my family...all of it, now burning to ash because I couldn't fix the strands. I was young, and inexperienced...
I didn't know how to manipulate the energies of the cosmos in the way that would save us all....I could have chosen the path, but I ignored it, because I thought I knew what was best. I ignored his advice, and took the path that seemed best to me instead of the one that would have saved us...
I studied for years, things I thought would help me when the time came....but in the end He swept me aside like the puling child I had thought I outgrew..
And so I ran...retreated to lick my wounds, thinking that I would have more time, to be able to go back and fight Nemesis, he whom was held at bay by generations and generations before me, of time and energy bending god like mortals...But it was not to be...
And now it was too late. I thought I was brave....but I was merely foolish...... |
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